by Gill Harvey
‘Amulets!’ Isis felt a rush of pride for her brother, and also a ripple of fear. Funerary amulets were very powerful – full of magic. ‘You have them here?’
Hopi nodded. ‘They’re in my bag.’
Isis gazed at it with a new respect. ‘How many are there?’
‘About thirty.’
‘Thirty!’
‘That’s the usual number, Isis.’
‘I know, but . . .’ Isis shook her head. The thought of there being so much magic in her brother’s bag was unsettling somehow. She badly wanted to see them, but she didn’t dare ask. ‘I can’t believe they’re just sitting there.’
‘I know. Well, they won’t be for long.’ Hopi drew the bag closer to his side. ‘And first, we have to sort out this business about Abana. When do you have to go back?’
‘Tonight,’ said Isis.
‘I can’t do much about that,’ said Hopi. ‘But there’s one thing I can do. You don’t have to go alone, Isis. I’m coming with you, and nobody’s going to stop me.’
Isis felt so relieved that she barely noticed the movement at the top of the stairs. But about an hour later, as Mut helped her with her make-up, she remembered it. There had been someone there while she was talking to Hopi, someone who’d ducked down as she’d turned her head. Suddenly, it was clear. It had been Sinuhe, listening to every word.
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CHAPTER FIVE
‘Hurry up, Hopi. You can walk faster than that.’
Nefert’s voice was sharp, and Hopi bristled. It wasn’t his fault that he had a limp.
Isis shot him a nervous, sympathetic smile. ‘We’re almost there,’ she whispered, and pointed out the large, imposing gateway that led to Abana’s mansion.
Nefert knocked, and a guard opened the gate just a crack, holding an oil lamp.
‘Who are you?’ he demanded.
‘We’re Abana’s performers,’ responded Nefert. ‘He’s expecting us.’
The guard peered at them, moving his lamp around to give them a good once-over. ‘I was told one girl was coming,’ he said. ‘No one else has been authorised.’
‘Oh, but that’s absurd!’ exclaimed Nefert. ‘She’s young. I can’t possibly allow her in alone. Besides, she needs some music. I play the lute.’ And she showed her instrument, which was slung over her shoulder.
The guard looked dubious. ‘Suppose that makes sense,’ he said grudgingly. He nodded at Hopi. ‘What about him?’
‘I’m her brother,’ said Hopi. ‘I’ve come to look after her.’
The guard snorted, and Hopi bit his lip. He should have known that a guard would want better reasons than that.
‘She’ll be looked after all right here.’ The guard cast an eye at the scars on Hopi’s leg. ‘Don’t look like you’re much use to her, anyway.’
‘How dare –’ began Hopi.
‘Hush.’ Nefert silenced him with a glance. ‘Very well. I shall accompany Isis inside.’ She turned to Hopi. ‘I’m sorry, Hopi, but I’ll see that no harm comes to her. You may as well go home.’
The guard opened the gate wider to allow Nefert and Isis inside. He grinned at Hopi. ‘Sorry, brother. Better luck next time,’ he said, and banged the gate shut.
Hopi was furious. He thumped the gate with his fist. Then he turned and leaned against it, thinking fast. He wasn’t going to leave now, whatever the guard might say.
The road was deserted. Hopi began to walk along the boundary wall, examining it closely. It was made of mud brick smoothed over with plaster. Here and there, the plaster had broken off to reveal the brickwork beneath. In the moonlight, he hunted for a piece of stone, then found a section where acacia bushes grew close to the wall. He began work, chipping through the plaster to make footholds. He looked up. The wall wasn’t so very high. As long as the guards didn’t patrol the wall too often, he should be all right.
Hitching his bag over his shoulder, he began to climb. He peered over the top into the grounds and saw that the house was hidden behind trees. There were no signs of any guards. Feeling more courageous, he hooked one leg up over the top of the wall and dropped down on the other side. Thinking ahead, he found another stone and began making footholds for his escape. He was much more exposed now, conscious of every little scrape and tap.
Voices.
Hopi flattened himself against the wall, and froze. There was nowhere to hide.
Two men were walking through the grounds, deep in discussion. They hadn’t seen Hopi. He dived behind a tree, listening.
‘. . . can’t get back any faster,’ one man was saying.
‘You could if you . . .’ Hopi missed the end of the sentence.
‘But then I’d lose the contract.’ The first man seemed frustrated and angry.
‘Yes. Well, maybe. But that’s why I’ve brought you here. I want you to see what a big shipment you’d be losing if you refuse,’ said the second man.
They moved down the pathway, and Hopi could hear no more. But they were walking away from the mansion, not towards it. Hopi’s curiosity got the better of him. What shipment was the man talking about? And where were they going? Slipping from tree to tree, he began to follow.
Beyond the gardens, there was a dense grove of fig trees that seemed to stretch right to the edge of the grounds. But as he made his way through it, Hopi could see that it ended sooner than he’d thought. There was an open area up ahead with a building positioned at the centre. Hopi was just in time to spot the two men disappearing into it.
Hopi waited in the shadows of the fig trees for the men to return. They soon reappeared, and he managed to catch a glimpse of their faces in the moonlight as they passed, walking back towards the house. They were silent now, preoccupied. When all was quiet, Hopi crept towards the building, circling it until he saw an entrance. It certainly wasn’t a house – it had no windows and only one door. Hopi pushed it, then pulled it. It was shut fast. He put his eye up to chinks in the planks, but he couldn’t see anything in the darkness.
Then he noticed. On the ground leading up to the entrance, there were clues. Hopi bent down and scooped up half a handful of something that lay scattered around. He fingered and sniffed it. It was grain.
As Hopi gazed up at the building, his heart filled with anger. This store was enormous – enough to feed half the town. It wasn’t difficult to work out what the tax collector was up to. This wasn’t a government granary, but Abana’s stolen grain. The man must be exposed, but how? Abana was head of all Waset’s tax collectors; he answered only to the highest men in the land.
A jackal howled in the distance, out towards the desert. Hopi realised that it was getting late. He would have to think about his discovery later – if he didn’t hurry, he might miss seeing Isis dance altogether.
.
The house seemed very different without all its guests. The rooms were badly lit, with many in darkness. A servant holding a single oil lamp showed Isis and Nefert into a shadowy chamber, where they found Abana sitting alone, eating a leg of goose. Isis felt her stomach lurch with nerves.
Nefert sat down with her lute and began to play. Abana ripped at the goose flesh with his teeth until Isis started to dance. Then he paused, still gripping the leg bone, to stare at her. Isis knew she was dancing badly. It was very difficult performing on her own with him looking at her like that. Her legs felt stiff and heavy, her movements clumsy. But Abana didn’t seem to mind. He finished the goose leg without taking his eyes off her, then slammed the bone down on to his plate.
‘Stop!’
Isis was mid-pirouette, but did as he said, her arms still up in the air. Nefert stopped plucking the strings of the lute.
‘What is it, sir?’ asked Nefert. ‘Are we not pleasing you?’
‘I told you it was just the girl I wanted. I didn’t ask for music.’
‘But she can’t dance without music,’ Nefert pointed out.
‘Nonsense.’ Abana stood and walked towards Isis. He grasped her by the shoulders, his fingers still oily with go
ose fat. She tried not to shudder.
‘Let her go.’ Nefert’s voice was sharp.
Abana grinned. ‘Dance, girl,’ he instructed Isis.
Isis threw a frightened glance at Nefert. To her relief, her guardian stood up, her features stern.
‘Let her go!’ Nefert shouted.
Abana released Isis with a shove that sent her spinning. She gasped, nearly fell, then managed to regain her balance.
Her eyes flashing, Nefert stepped between Isis and Abana. ‘That’s enough!’ she said. ‘Such behaviour is unacceptable. We shall leave immediately.’
The tax collector gave a cynical smile, and strolled back to his table to pick up the goose bone. ‘If you leave, I shall pay you nothing,’ he said, with his back turned.
‘That matters little to us.’ Isis couldn’t be sure, but she thought that Nefert’s voice shook.
‘Is that so? And what about the favour you wanted to ask?’ Abana queried. He turned around and looked at them with mocking eyes, sucking on the bone.
Isis saw Nefert hesitate, just for a second. But then her guardian raised her chin and spoke haughtily. ‘There are no favours that we wish to ask of you.’ She picked up her lute. ‘Come, Isis. We must go.’
Thankfully, Isis placed her hand in Nefert’s, and they hurried out of the room. A servant pointed them in the direction of the gate.
‘That was quick, hey?’ commented the guard, his tone insolent.
Nefert gripped Isis’s hand a little tighter. ‘Let us out, please.’
The guard grinned, and shoved the gate open. ‘Dare say that brother will be pleased to see you,’ he sneered.
.
Hopi had reached the walls of the mansion, but it was impossible to see inside. There was an open veranda, but it was deserted; doors to the inner chambers were all shut. There were only clerestory windows, high up towards the roof. Hopi had been sure there would be some way to spy on Abana, but if there was one, he couldn’t see it.
He made his way around the house, listening for the sound of Nefert’s lute. Servants’ voices drifted out from somewhere deep inside, but that was all. Hopi edged carefully to the veranda, wondering if there was some way he could break in. The voices drew closer, and Hopi froze.
‘What was that?’ he heard.
‘What?’
‘I saw something moving in the shadows there . . .’
He’d been spotted. His heart thumping, Hopi backed away from the veranda, then tore through the gardens to the place where he’d climbed the wall. With a surge of energy, he leaped at it, bounding up with a strength he didn’t know he possessed. Wriggling to the top, he threw one leg over, then hurled his body after it. He landed badly, crashing on to the ground, and almost yelped in pain.
But he couldn’t stop. He scrambled to his feet. Wincing with every step, he half-ran, half-hobbled up the road and dived behind a limestone statue that stood at the entrance to the next house. Gasping for breath, he peered around it. The guards had come out and were staring up the road. One of them approached, and Hopi ducked back, trying to quieten his breathing. The guard stopped before reaching him, calling back to his companion.
‘Can’t see anything here.’
‘Leave it, then. Could have been a jackal.’
Hopi closed his eyes in relief as the guard’s steps retreated back to the gate. He shifted his weight, trying to breathe through his nose. Agonising pains were shooting up his bad leg. He rubbed it, wondering whether to wait for Isis. He had no idea how long he had spent digging footholds in the wall, or investigating the grain store. Perhaps she had already left. Eventually he could bear the uncertainty no longer. Limping heavily, he began to hobble home.
.
Nefert was silent as they made their way back through the streets of Waset. Isis could still feel her anger smouldering beneath her tight-lipped features. She was intensely grateful that her guardian had defended her so fiercely, but she longed to speak to Hopi. The moment they arrived back, she ran through the house looking for him. Sinuhe was in the front room. Sheri, Kia, Mut and the boys were up on the roof. But her brother was nowhere to be seen.
She ran down from the roof, past the first-floor practice room, and stopped. She could hear angry voices.
‘You just walked out?’ Paneb sounded incredulous.
‘Of course we walked out.’ Nefert was clearly still furious.
‘She’s old enough to cope with a bit of solo dancing.’
‘Not for a man like that! I won’t stand for it, Paneb. Just think if it had been Mut.’ Nefert’s voice shook with rage. Isis felt relieved; she knew now that Nefert would defend her to the end.
‘We have to find a solution to this.’ There was something desperate in Paneb’s tone.
‘He’s your cousin – you find a solution! As if I don’t feel betrayed enough.’ Nefert quavered as though she were close to tears.
‘How have I ever betrayed you?’ It was Paneb’s turn to sound outraged. ‘I’ve been constant for all these years, I’ve found the troupe work and success beyond your wildest hopes.’
‘You lied to me from the outset! You are not what you seem.’ Nefert was clearly crying now.
Paneb seemed to think for a moment. ‘Is it so terrible that my cousin is a peasant?’ he asked. His voice was quieter, but there was no more warmth in it. He seemed hard and distant.
Isis was horrified. She had heard Nefert and Paneb quarrel before, but never like this. And it was all because of Sinuhe. How had one man managed to create such havoc in their household?
‘I no longer care who he is, or what he’s doing here,’ said Nefert. ‘I just want him to leave.’
‘He says the gods have sent him,’ said Paneb. ‘He was given a sign.’
‘And you’re content to listen to the riddles of a simpleton!’ shouted Nefert. ‘Sort it out, Paneb, or who knows what will befall us!’
Isis couldn’t bear to hear any more. She slipped back down to the courtyard and sat there in the dark, the words of the argument rattling around her head. What a dreadful evening it had been . . . she could still feel the oily grip of Abana’s hands on her shoulders, and see the mockery in his eyes when they’d left. She wanted very badly to talk to Hopi.
‘Isis.’
She looked up, and saw her brother standing in the doorway to the courtyard. ‘Hopi! There you are!’ Isis got up and rushed into his arms.
Hopi hopped over the threshold. ‘Isis, you’re back already . . . Ow!’ He grimaced as he put his foot down.
‘You’re hurt!’ exclaimed Isis. ‘What happened?’
‘I was trying to escape,’ said Hopi. He told her about the grain store he had found, and how he had almost been caught. ‘I fell as I landed,’ he finished. ‘It’s nothing – I’ll be all right. I just need some of Mut’s balm.’
‘I’ll get it.’ Isis ran to fetch it, then squatted down next to him, dipping her fingers in the balm. ‘There. Does that help?’
‘Ow,’ Hopi winced as Isis rubbed a bit too hard. ‘Yes, a bit. So why are you back so early? What happened?’
In a low voice, Isis described everything that had happened, from her horrible evening with Abana to the row between Nefert and Paneb. As she expected, Hopi was furious about the tax collector.
‘We’ll pay him back, Isis. We will,’ he vowed.
Isis finished dabbing the balm, and looked up. ‘It’s fine. Nefert stood up for me and we left straight away.’ She sighed. ‘I’m more worried about her row with Paneb. Sinuhe is causing us a lot of problems, Hopi.’
Hopi nodded. ‘We’ll soon work out why, Isis,’ he promised. ‘Once I’ve delivered Menna’s amulets, I’ll make it my business to find out.’
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CHAPTER SIX
In spite of his painful leg, Hopi was determined to make Menna’s delivery as quickly as possible the next morning. The workshops were towards the temples of Ipet-Isut, not far from the grand houses of people like Abana; the difference was that they were hidden away along
the riverbank, out of public view. Embalming was a gruesome business, and people didn’t like getting too close to it.
Towering palm trees marked the site of the workshops, and Hopi hobbled to the entrance. He found a pair of guards half asleep under a tree, and shook one of them awake.
‘I have a delivery,’ Hopi told him. ‘I’m the apprentice of Menna, priest of Serqet. He has sent a letter for the head embalmer.’ He delved into his bag and brought out a little papyrus scroll.
The guard rubbed his eyes. ‘Can’t read,’ he mumbled, then nudged his colleague. ‘Go and get one of the embalmers. Boy says he’s got a delivery.’
The second guard sleepily got to his feet, and set off towards one of the tents that Hopi could just see between the trees. When he returned, it was with a man whose kilt and hands were stained with dried blood.
‘I am an assistant embalmer. Do you have authorisation to be here?’ the man enquired. Hopi showed him the papyrus scroll. The assistant inspected it and nodded. ‘You are welcome, apprentice of Menna,’ he said. ‘I’ll take you to Weni, the chief embalmer. Follow me.’
Hopi set off after him, curiosity burning. He had always wanted to see this place. Up ahead were three tents. As the assistant led him past the first one, Hopi peered back at it, wondering what was inside.
The assistant spotted his interest and smiled. ‘That’s where we wash the bodies when they first arrive,’ he explained, and carried on towards the second. ‘This tent is where we prepare them for drying and cover them in natron.’
He pushed back a flap and entered. Hopi followed him eagerly, not sure what to expect – and immediately got a surprise. The first thing that hit him was the smell: the heavy stench of dead flesh, thick and choking. The tent was spacious enough – designed, no doubt, so that fresh air could circulate – but nothing could mask that horrible odour. Hopi felt his stomach turn.
The assistant led the way past mounds of natron salt and a stack of canopic jars. Hopi stared at the mounds. They were body-shaped. There were dead people lying buried in the salt, slowly drying out.
