by Overton, Max
"And who might you be, young miss?" Pa-it asked.
The girl hesitated then said, "Scarab, sir."
Pa-it smiled. "That's a funny name for a girl. Where do you come from?"
Scarab waved vaguely in the direction of the river. "Downriver."
Min guffawed. "More like 'in river' you mean. She's soaking wet and covered in mud, da."
"I fell in," Scarab snapped. "I'm cold and I'm hungry and I'd like to warm myself by your fire before I go ..." The girl's voice trailed off and she looked around at the men and woman. "I...I can pay."
"We don't charge for the use of a fire," Pa-it said gruffly. "We'd be happy to give you a bit of food too. Nothing fancy," his eyes drifted over her body, noting the soft hands, the shaved head and, despite its muddy state, the expensive blue wool cloak of her bundle of possessions. "Nothing like you're used to, I'm sure." He nodded at his wife, who ducked back inside the hut. "If you'd like to partake of our hospitality, young miss?" Pa-it indicated the door.
Scarab ducked through the doorway and found herself in a single large room. Sleeping mats occupied one end, with a cooking fire beneath an opening in the roof for the smoke to exit, providing the only light. A low wooden table sat in the middle and a variety of pots and baskets lined the wall nearest the cooking fire. The woman ushered her to the table, putting a piece of coarse bread and a handful of ripe dates in front of her.
"I'm Asenath," the woman said. "Do you want a drink?"
"Please. A little wine would warm me."
Asenath snorted. "Wine? What sort of house did you work in? We don't have no wine here, never have. Water'll have to be good enough for you."
"She never worked in any sort of house, Asenath," Pa-it said quietly, following the girl in. "She may be wearing a servant's kilt but look beneath the mud, look at her hands. She's never worked in her life."
Scarab blushed and ducked her head, nibbling at the piece of bread. She gasped as Asenath grabbed her hand and drew it into the light.
"Soft," she said. "You're right, husband." Asenath released Scarab's hand and reaching out with calloused fingers, turned the girl's face to the fire. "Who are you? Are you some nobleman's daughter or mistress, running away?" She looked up at her husband. "She'll bring trouble, husband. Mark my words."
Pa-it grunted, motioning his sons to the other side of the table. He squatted by the doorway and regarded the girl for several minutes as she ate her meager meal. "You are too young to be some man's mistress, young Scarab, so I'm guessing you are a daughter running away." He grimaced, his voice getting flintier. "What was the reason? Daddy wouldn't buy you another brooch?"
"My parents are dead," Scarab replied. "I live with my brother in the pal...I live with my brother."
"In the palace? In Akhet-Aten?" Pa-it frowned. "You are the sister of a court official? What is his name?"
"Da?"
"What is it, Khu?"
"I seen her, Da. Last year when I was in the city for the festival. She was in one of them huge chairs carried by slaves. Of course, she was in fine clothes and all but I'm sure it were her. Someone said her name were Meke-something."
"Carried in the procession with the king? Meke? Meketaten, the princess?"
"Think so, Da. It were her though. Not as pretty as the others but still nice to look at."
Scarab scowled and poked her tongue out at the young man. He laughed and pulled a face in retaliation.
"Is that true?" Pa-it asked. "You were being carried in the Heb-Sed procession?"
"She's not Meketaten," Asenath said. "Meketaten was one of the king's daughters and she died last year, just after the festival."
"I never said I was Meketaten," Scarab said indignantly. "Though I was carried in her chair."
The older son Min leaned forward and tapped the table. "Then what was you doing in her chair? They only carried the king and queen and their daughters in the procession."
Scarab felt like she was being backed into a corner. "I...I'm not a daughter. I'm a sister."
"What's your real name, child?" Pa-it asked gently.
"Beketaten," Scarab whispered. "Please don't tell anyone I'm here. I...I'll leave immediately and no-one will know." She started to get up.
"Stay where you are child, nobody's going to hurt you." Pa-it glanced across at Min. "Go and ask Ankhu and Menna to join us. Apologize for the lateness of the hour but don't say anything about young Beketaten here."
Min nodded and left. After he left a silence fell on the hut. Scarab finished up her dates, spitting the stones out into her hand and lining them up neatly on the edge of the table. Asenath gathered them up with a grunt of annoyance and threw them in the fire, then wiped a rag over the table to clear the crumbs. The males sat or squatted and looked at the girl with curiosity.
Two men ducked under the door lintel and straightened up. One was an older man with an arm twisted and gnarled by some ancient accident. His hair, despite the lines and wrinkles was jet black and wavy. The younger one was tall and thin, with a sour expression as if he had a mouthful of vinegar. Min followed the two men in and stood in one corner.
"Ah, Ankhu, Menna," Pa-it said. "Thank you for coming. I am sorry to disturb you so late but we may have a problem--as a community, that is."
"Who's the girl?" The younger man tossed his head in Scarab's direction.
"She says her name is Beketaten."
"So?"
"Don't be slow-witted, Menna," the older man with the twisted arm said. "I know of only one Beketaten." He stared at Scarab. "Youngest daughter of the old king Nebmaetre. Is that you, girl?"
Scarab nodded.
"Thought it might be." Ankhu grinned. "Nobody outside of the nobility in Akhet-Aten is going to take on an Aten name. You know the king's not exactly loved, don't you?"
"Be cautious, Ankhu," Pa-it said quietly. "She is sister to the king."
"Does anyone know she's here?" Menna asked.
"She came in alone, bedraggled and muddy from the direction of the river. I think she ran away, but I don't know why. I called you both here because we have a problem. If they come looking for her ..."
"And they will," Menna growled. "There'll be a huge hue and cry for the king's fornicating sister."
"Watch your tongue, Menna." Asenath hissed. "Small wonder you cannot find a wife."
"As I was saying," Pa-it went on. "If they come looking for her, we could all pay. 'The people suffer when nobles anger', I think the proverb goes. More so with a king. Nobody is going to worry that she came to us. They'll say we kidnapped her."
"Please," Scarab said. "I don't want to make trouble for anyone. I'll just leave and no-one need ever know I was here."
"That might be a bit late, child. No doubt you have left a trail that the army scouts will follow."
"Not necessarily," Ankhu interrupted. "How did you cross the river?"
"I took a small boat. It went aground on a sand bank downriver and I had to wade. That's when I got all wet."
"They'll find the boat. Now if we put, say her cloak in the river, and rip it a bit, they might think a crocodile took her."
Khu grinned. "We could put some chicken blood on the cloak too. That'd convince them."
"Please, please." Pa-it waved his arms placatingly. "That only diverts attention from the village momentarily. What happens later when they find her?"
"Dump her in the river for the crocodiles, then," Menna growled. "I'll do it."
Asenath stepped between Scarab and Menna. "You keep your hands to yourself."
"We are not going to kill her," Pa-it said firmly. "Sorry, child. Menna is thinking only of the village and our safety, but I promise you nobody here will harm you."
"Well, what are we going to do with her?"
"We have two choices. We either let her walk out of here and deny all knowledge of her when the king's soldiers arrive ..."
"Dangerous."
"... or we help her escape so the soldiers don't find her."
"More dangerous."
>
"Please, I only want to get to Waset. If you show me how to get to the caravan road I'll go and never come back. If they catch me on the east bank of the river, they'll never think to ask here."
"You know how far it is to Waset?"
Scarab shook her head, tears starting to show in her eyes. "I've got to get there, I've got to."
"If you walked, little girl, it would take you a month."
Scarab opened her mouth but no sound came out. Her chin wobbled and she burst into tears. Between her sobs she gasped. "That will be too late. I've got to get there before the new moon."
Asenath put her arm around Scarab, holding her close until her sobs became muffled. She sniffed loudly and wiped her tears away with her fingers, spreading the dried mud on her cheeks into streaks.
"If you need to get to Waset quickly, Beketaten, wouldn't it be better to ask your brother for a chariot? And an escort too?" Asenath handed Scarab a grimy rag.
"Thank you. And please call me Scarab, I don't like my other name." She took the rag and blew her nose loudly. "I can't go to the king. It...it's too dangerous."
"Told you," Menna said, a note of satisfaction in his voice. "This girl is trouble."
"Be quiet, Menna. Go on, Scarab. Why is it dangerous? Would the king hurt you?"
"No. The king wants to marry me but that's not why it's dangerous."
"Marry you?" Pa-it said incredulously. "But you're his sister."
Scarab shrugged. "My family does that sort of thing. He's marrying his daughters too. He wants sons very badly."
"So why is it dangerous?"
Scarab thought hard. She looked around the circle of faces, Asenath and Khu friendly, Menna hostile, the rest just curious. Taking a deep breath she tried to slow her racing heart and calm herself.
"I overheard the queen and the Grand Tjaty Ay plotting to overthrow the king on the night of the new moon. I can't tell the king because I have no proof and I'm only a girl. He'd call my uncle Ay in, who'd deny it and the king would believe him. Then Ay would have me killed." She paused and looked around again. "So you see, there is no-one in Akhet-Aten I can go to without Ay finding out. My only hope is to get to Waset and tell my brother Smenkhkare. He'll know what to do."
Min whistled. "Sounds like one of those exciting stories you hear on the street corners during festivals."
"But this is no story," Scarab said seriously. "If I don't reach Waset before the new moon, the king will be overthrown and maybe killed."
"Can't say I'd mind," Menna commented.
"Menna! She's the king's sister."
Menna raised his hands defensively toward Asenath. "Sorry little girl. It's just that your brother Akhenaten is not too popular in the countryside. He may be happy with his one god but the rest of us would like our old ones back."
Ankhu shifted in his seat and scratched his leg. "There's another proverb it would be good to remember, Menna. 'The fall of stars brings nothing but trouble.' For 'stars' read 'king'."
Pa-it nodded. "There will be bloodshed. There always is when kings fall. You may not like the present one but will you like this Ay any better? He doesn't sound like anyone I'd like to know. "
"So will you help me?" Scarab asked.
"Help you how?"
"Sell me a horse. I...I have some jewelry, I could pay for one. If you'd rather," she hurried on, "I could give you a note and Smenkhkare would pay you in gold later."
"Scarab, child," Pa-it's voice was gentle. "Nobody in the village has a horse. What would we want with one? They are only good for riding or pulling chariots."
"Then you can't help me." Scarab started crying again. "The king will die and Ay will come looking for me to kill me too."
Pa-it watched his wife comfort the girl again, drying her tears and holding her. He thought about her predicament and also what had to be done for the safety of the village. The others, his friends and sons, looked at him, waiting for his decision. He made it.
"Scarab cannot stay here. She needs to be in Waset and we need her over the other side of the river as soon as possible. At dawn, Min will take the blue cloak, rip it and put chicken blood on it. He will find a place a little downriver and put it where it can be found. Scarab will stay here tomorrow, inside this hut, not leaving it for any reason. Tell nobody else she is here. If we are questioned it will help that nobody else has seen her. Their denials will have the ring of truth. At dusk tomorrow we will take Scarab back to the east bank and across to the caravan trail. If the gods smile on her a caravan will pass in a day or two and carry her to Waset. There is nothing more we can do."
Scarab looked up through her tears and smiled tremulously. "It will be enough. I thank you Pa-it of Akhet-Re."
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Chapter Thirty-Two
And so I found myself once more on the east side of the river, heading south to Waset and my beloved Smenkhkare. Asenath washed my kilt and headdress, gave me water to wash the mud from my body and fed me, replacing my sodden loaf and filling my water jug. I lost my lovely blue wool cloak though. Min took it at dawn and, as the other farmers in the little community left for their day's work in the fields, hurried off toward the river, the torn and bloodstained cloak over one arm. I gave Asenath one of my necklaces, the lapis one with the silver thread. She did not want to take it but I insisted. It was one I had been given in Waset so I knew she could sell it safely in Akhet-Aten.
At dusk, Pa-it and his sons smuggled me out of the village and took me south, past the boundary steles of Akhenaten's city, past the cliffs that came right down to the water's edge, to where a small boat waited to ferry me across.
"I will row you across," Pa-it said. "I'll take you to the caravan route and leave you there. There is no more I can do."
"There is, da, but I will do it," Khu said quietly. "I am going with her."
"What are you saying, son?"
"Scarab is only a child." Khu flashed a grin at me and my retort died unspoken. "She will need a man to see her safely to her brother." He shrugged. "And I've always wanted to see Waset."
Pa-it gripped his son's shoulders and stared into his eyes. "You are your own man, Khu, but what am I going to tell your mother?"
"She knows already, da. Do you think I would leave without saying goodbye?"
Pa-it rowed Khu and me over to the eastern shore and left us on the reed-covered edge. He said nothing, just handing me my bundle of possessions and giving Khu a bronze dagger. Khu hefted his own small bundle then, giving his father a quick kiss, turned and started up the bank towards the sand and rock.
I looked back as we left the grassy verge of the river but Pa-it and his little boat were already out of sight. I heard only a faint splash in the darkness and the sound of insects at my feet. Turning, I ran to catch up with Khu.
I am not sure quite what I expected on my journey. I think probably a proper road that I could make good time on. Certainly nothing like the wilderness of sand and rock that rose before me. The cliffs around Akhet-Aten should have warned me. They are dry and desolate and inhabited by all sorts of scorpions and snakes. The slope we climbed toward the desert plateau that night was like those cliffs, only not as steep. I was thankful for my sandals when we started but by the time we neared the top I realized the difference between proper footwear and the beautifully made but flimsy sandals made for pampered palace ladies. One of them fell apart and the other was chafing me badly, so I took them off and threw them aside.
Khu noticed my predicament. "It'll get easier when we get to the top. There's less rock and more sand."
I saw the rocks did not bother his bare feet so I did not complain, biting back the pain when my soft feet met a hard stone. He was right though. We crested the slope and looked out over the rolling hills of sand gleaming silver and black in the light of moon, seeming to stretch on forever. I looked back at the inky darkness of the river far below us, invisible with the moon behind me.
"How far to the caravan road?" I scanned the
gleaming sands hopefully for a broad, plainly marked road, not seeing it.
"With luck we'll be there by midnight. You won't see it until we are almost on it. Over there somewhere." Khu pointed slightly south of east.
We headed off into the desert, keeping to the tops of what I learned were dunes, as much as possible. The ridges were fairly firm and we could make good progress, but every so often we had to descend the dune when the crest curved away from our intended route and then we sank into the soft sand up to our knees. We stopped after an hour or so to rest. Already it was impossible to see where we had come from and our footprints were not visible further away than twenty paces. A gentle wind stirred the sand grains, filling in our tracks, losing us in the wilderness. At least it was not hot. I sweated when we moved, particularly on the hard trek up and down the faces of the dunes, but when we stopped, exposed on a crest, the wind rapidly chilled me. I shivered but I no longer had my thick blue wool cloak, only a thin threadbare gray one given to me by Asenath.
"Go easy on the water," Khu admonished as I raised my water jug to my lips again. "There's a well of sorts at the rock fort but we may not get there until dawn."
"A fort? Will there be soldiers there?"
"No. It's just called a fort because there is a ring of large boulders. There is supposed to be a well there too. I've never been there but I met a man at the festival last year who had, and he told me about it."
"But there will be a caravan there?"
"Maybe, now come on." Khu got to his feet and brushed the sand off the back of his kilt. "We have to keep moving. We don't want to be out here in the sun."
