“Do you think he can be trusted?” Neti asked.
The question had Shabaka look at her and tilt his head. “Why would you ask that?”
Neti looked to Seota and then to Shabaka, “Because I met his father today.”
“We both know that one should not judge people by their family,” Shabaka cautioned her.
“I’m not.”
“What then?”
Neti lifted her hands in a frustrated gesture before saying, “Let’s just say I would not blame Sereb if he took off.”
“That bad?”
“If you were to take the high priest in Amun, the opinion of a father who insists that his son continues his trade and their traditions, and added the intelligence of an uneducated worker, you would end up with something close to him.”
“The high priest of Amun bit is frightening enough.”
“Needless to say, he was about as helpful as the high priest ever was to our cause.”
“Meaning this is all a curse and punishment from the gods.”
“That’s the short of it.”
“Did you learn anything though?”
Neti shook her head, “Seota has started on the hieroglyphs, but there is nothing there so far. We will go back tomorrow.”
“While you do that, I will move the camp to the villa.”
“Do you think that is wise?” Neti asked.
“Sereb showed me the storage area. There were new sleeping mats and pillows. So we cleared out two of the visitors’ chambers and placed the sleeping mats and pillows there.”
“It would be nice to have access to a kitchen.”
“There is some grain and dried fruits in the storage area. We will be able to remain there until you have finished with the hieroglyphs.”
“They were not looted?”
Shabaka shook his head. “It seems the villa manager kept the possibility in mind and moved the stores.”
Neti nodded. “I’ll work with Seota.”
“I will have to get word to Ramesses as soon as we return to Memphis. I don’t know what he will want to do about it, but I would not be surprised if he left the villa empty.”
For two days Neti and Seota made their way to the Sphinx, diligently copying down the hieroglyphs as requested. And every evening Neti would pour over the scripts, seeking an answer. It was on the third evening that Seota started scratching the back of her one thigh, just above the back of the knee. Neti’s attention was drawn to the action when Seota repeated it. Neti looked at the girl and for a moment considered reprimanding her, but from the girl’s expression she became suspicious and called her to their room.
“Turn around and lift the lower part of your shift.”
“What?” Seota asked, shocked.
“Just do it,” Neti firmly instructed, causing her to look at Neti with hesitation.
Neti could not understand the girl’s hesitation, having seen the girl naked before she had purchased her. She did not consider it that great an intrusion.
As Seota lifted the lower part of her shift, the changes in her body were obvious. Although Neti had seen the obvious signs, the girl’s weight gain was most obvious in the condition of her legs. They were toned, her knee joints no longer as obvious. She looked healthy, more womanly than she had when they had first met. However, the red patch on the back of her thigh did not look good.
“When did you get this?” Neti asked, lowering to her haunches, but not touching the girl.
“It started this morning,” Seota said, looking around.
“And it itches.”
Seota nodded, “But when I scratch it, it starts burning.”
“And earlier today?” Neti asked, causing Seota to look at her in confusion.
“When you scratched it,” Neti clarified.
“It did not hurt as much,” Seota replied.
“You can lower your slip now.”
“What do you think it is?” Seota asked, concerned. “You don’t think it could be the same as the others had?” the girl asked, panicked. “I don’t want to end up killing myself like them,” she said as she turned towards Neti.
Neti held up her hands, palms front, and said honestly, “I don’t know what it is. But stay here.”
Neti returned to where Shabaka and Sereb were still eating their meal and lowered to her haunches next to Shabaka, whispering, “We have a problem.”
Shabaka turned to look at her in question. “And we are whispering, why?”
“I think Seota may have the sickness.”
Shabaka’s eyes enlarged as he turned to her, “Are you certain?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen it on anyone still alive.”
“We did consider the chance that we too may become ill.”
“Yes, but I never thought it would happen.”
Shabaka nodded. “What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know enough to be able to make a decision. I don’t even know if what she has is an illness.”
“Does it not look like the others?”
“Her skin is just very red.”
Shabaka looked at Sereb, who was looking at them suspiciously. “Do you think he might know?”
“He might,” she said, “…but I don’t particularly want him looking at her thighs.”
“We could ask him.” Shabaka said in return.
Neti looked towards Sereb, who became visibly wary of them.
“What is the matter?” he finally asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You saw the others when they were ill?”
“I was out in with the goats, often for days,” Sereb said, his tone already defensive.
“But you saw the sores? You know what they look like?”
The boy nodded hesitantly.
Neti looked at Shabaka. “I don’t know,” she said.
“We need to know what we are dealing with,” Shabaka said.
Neti remained silent for several moments before finally nodding her head.
“We need you to take a look at something for us,” Shabaka said.
Sereb looked from one to the other and then said, “Seota?”
Neti nodded.
The boy’s shoulders drooped. Neti knew enough of men to know that the boy had been taken by Seota. He also knew that his attentions would not be welcomed. He finally nodded and rose from the ground.
They entered the room and Seota looked at Neti then at Sereb, her expression concerned. Neti indicated with her hand that Seota was to turn around. Seota did as requested and Neti reached for the end of her slip, looking pointedly at Sereb. “No touching.”
Sereb nodded.
She lifted the back of the slip to about mid thigh and then looked at Sereb. She knew from his expression alone and had no need for a vocal confirmation. She lowered the slip again before turning to him. Seota also turned.
“Do you know of any treatment, anything we can do to stop it?”
For a moment Sereb looked confused and Neti expected a reply in line with his father’s, however the boy said noting, appearing to be in thought instead. “She must not scratch it.”
“Scratch it?” Neti asked, confused.
“Scratching makes it worse.”
“But it’s irritating,” Seota moaned. “What else am I to do?”
Sereb thought for a while. “There is a thing that puts blisters on animals, which we put oil on to make it go away… but I don’t know if it will work.”
Neti suddenly looked at Sereb, “The healers in Memphis treated the others with a type of oil. You don’t know which?”
The boy shook his head. “I was just always told that if your skin itches you should put oil on it.”
Common advice. Everyone next to the river says that, Neti thought, but said nothing.
“So I must put oil on it?” Seota asked, obviously concerned.
“It could not hurt,” Sereb said.
“What kind of oil?” Neti asked.
“I don’t
know, but I know she must not scratch it.”
“I can’t bandage it,” Neti said. “I have not brought any bandages.”
“There are ten royal cubits of fabric in the storage room, can’t you make any?” Sereb asked.
Neti was hesitant to use any more of the Pharaoh’s stocks than they needed.
“I could make some,” Seota was quick to offer.
Neti nodded. “I’m certain you could, but it is the Pharaoh’s fabric. It may be needed for something.”
“I don’t think he would object, especially given the circumstances,” Shabaka said from the doorway. “And if he does, I will settle the matter with him.”
Neti looked for a moment towards Shabaka and then to Sereb. “We could place a oil rag against her skin that way. Hopefully it will help.”
“Do you know of anything else that might help?” Shabaka asked Sereb.
“Our people kept records, they knew this sickness,” he said pointing to Seota, but that knowledge is no longer known.
“But if there were records, how could it not be known?” Neti asked, confused.
“Because there is no one who understands them.”
“Or do you mean no one can read them?” Neti asked, remembering what his father had said.
Sereb looked at her for several moments before he shrugged his shoulders. “Our people were not as intelligent as you. They could not read and write like you do, but they knew it was important for them to keep records, to put things down so that one day the small children would also know.”
Neti nodded.
“So they devised their own way of putting things down. They used cloth, because it was easier to find than paper.”
“And where are these lengths of cloth now?” Neti asked.
“The Keeper of the Temple, my father,” the boy corrected, “is charged with safeguarding them. But he does not understand them.”
“Why not?” Shabaka asked.
“He was not supposed to take the position, his brother was more intelligent and prepared for the position. He was told all the tales.”
“What happened?”
“I do not know the entire story, but his brother was killed during a fight. My father does not speak of it.”
Neti nodded. “That explains a lot.”
“I know that there is a tale of the disease linked to Khufu’s Pyramid.”
“Yes,” Neti nodded. ‘We were, or at least I was told that the workers all became ill and that a great number of them died from it.”
With every word, Seota became visibly more distressed.
“It is the discomfort that drives the people mad,” Sereb said. “Or at least, that was what I noticed.”
“Explain,” Shabaka demanded.
“At first the patches would look like that…” he said, again pointing to Seota. “And then they would scratch and scratch. And that is when it got worse. The patches started spreading, and all they could think of doing was scratching. Nothing got done, and they started screaming at one another, accusing one another of being lazy. One of them found that the medicine helped with the pain when they scratched. But soon they were fighting over that.”
“You know a lot for one who was supposedly not here.” Shabaka said.
“I wasn’t, not all the time.”
“So how do you know?” Neti demanded. “Because it is very strange that you are the only one not affected and still alive.”
Sereb was startled, but only for a moment. He looked about the room, but finally stood his ground, possibly knowing that he would need to get past Shabaka to escape.
“One of the servants told me.”
Shabaka’s eyebrow shot up. “One of the servants?” he asked, disbelieving.
“Okay, she might have been more to me.”
“Where is she now?” Shabaka demanded.
“We burned her with the others.” There was a note of distress in his voice that provided reason enough for them to believe him.
“Why did they go as far as killing one another?” Neti asked, still keeping an eye on Seota.
“I do not know. It was as if they became mad, as if the sickness made them mad.”
“And that is what you think?” Neti asked. “Or is that what you know?”
“I was taught, as a child, that the sickness was inflicted upon on my elders because they had sinned, and that the gods were angry.” He shook his head. “But I do not understand this. These people did nothing to anger the gods.”
“Not that we know of,” Shabaka deadpanned, causing everyone to look at him.
Shabaka shrugged his shoulders, “It’s the truth. We never know what others get up to, what the gods see or are subjected to. So we cannot say for certain that the gods were not angered.”
“If so, why now? Why these people?” Neti asked.
“That would be the most pressing question. But for now I think we should tend to Seota.”
Neti nodded.
Neti and Seota went in search of the fabric and oil, with Neti reprimanding Seota every time she tried to scratch.
Chapter Twelve
When they awoke the following morning, Sereb was missing. The donkey and goats were still in their stalls, with only a wineskin taken from the storeroom.
“Where do you think he could have gone?” Neti asked.
“To drown his sorrows,” Shabaka said, shrugging his shoulders. When Neti threw him an incredulous look he added, “That was a lot of wine he took.”
“Be serious.”
“I am. I know that if I lost someone I cared about, that would probably be what I would do,” Shabaka said, for a moment fighting the aching sensation in his chest at the remembrance of Neti’s disappearance.
Neti shook her head. “Would that be before or after you’d caught the person responsible?”
“Why do you say that, as if it is inconceivable?”
“Because I know you. If someone you cared about went missing, you would probably turn over the whole of Egypt to find them,” Neti said. “Or die trying.”
“Someone going missing and losing someone is a great deal different,” Shabaka said, not actually wanting to contemplate the possibility of either, especially given with their situation. “You should know that.”
Neti nodded. “Which is why I say you would first find the person responsible. It is in your nature.”
“And you?”
Neti looked at him for a moment, her shoulders drooping. “I think we both know what I have done.”
Shabaka said nothing, only nodded. It was something he knew she had no desire to discuss. “You should check on Seota.”
At his words, Neti froze. He turned to look at her, noticing her hesitation.
“I don’t really know if I want to.”
Shabaka walked over to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I know that this is difficult, and that we have been here on so many occasions already, but I’m here and we will see this through together, no matter what.”
Neti nodded, but swallowed before she spoke, distress evident in her voice, “It’s just…it always feels like I am losing someone close to me.”
“That is because you always feel responsible for them in some manner. It is one of your strongest traits.”
Neti pinched her lips together and nodded.
Shabaka pulled her closer and Neti did not resist as he pulled her into a hug. “You didn’t give up on me and you won’t give up on Seota.”
Neti again nodded, drawing from his strength.
“And I think we are about to get answers.”
“What?” Neti asked, pulling back, for a moment looking up at him before following his gaze. “Sereb is back,” Shabaka stated.
“With his father,” Neti added.
“You mean the imitation high priest?”
Neti nodded as she fully pulled from his embrace, feeling far more fortified than she had a moment before. She turned to watch the two approaching men. Even from a distance she could see Sereb carryin
g something bulky.
“You think he went to fetch the scrolls?” Shabaka asked.
“That would definitely explain the need for wine.”
“For him, or to convince his father?” Shabaka asked.
“Both.”
When they came closer Sereb, outstripped his father and came up to them. “I convinced my father to show you the scrolls.”
“Is that why he came with?” Shabaka asked, nodding his head at the approaching man.
“He does not trust anyone who works with the Pharaoh. H says they are all out to twist things in their own manner.”
“Is that so?” Shabaka asked.
Sereb shrugged his shoulders. “I have not known you very long, but I know you seek answers. You do not seem like those who turn away from difficult matters – or you simply would have left here.” He extended the rolls of fabric towards Neti. “I do not know if you will be able to make sense of them though.’
Neti took the rolls of fabric, which were heavier than they initially appeared, and said, “Thank you.”
“You again,” the man said accusingly as he came to a standstill, glaring at Neti. “I should have known you would talk Sereb to believe your ways. I would have thought you’d have gotten your answers already from the Sphinx.”
“We were copying it for the records in Thebes.”
“You mean you came for the altered version,” the man angrily said. “I may not read but I can see when they change symbols.”
“It was a request from the Keeper of the Truth.”
“Truth, my foot. You followers of the Pharaoh don’t know what the truth is. Those who align themselves with him only do so not to be slaves. You disgust me. The way you treat people, treat slaves! You are as much a slave as my forefathers were.”
“Father!” The boy cautioned.
“I will not be dictated to. I will not be told what happened. I know what happened!”
“It is not our intent to alter anything, I assure you,” Neti calmly said. “We only want to learn what this sickness is and what we can do to prevent it.”
“Prevent it! And how do you suppose the two of you would prevent the wrath of a god? Or even cure those struck by it? They are like lepers, marked for life.”
“You mean they don’t always die?”
“Why would they die? There would be no retribution in death, no punishment for their sins. Death is only punishment to the family of the cursed. But living with the reminder of one’s punishment, punishment that is visible for all to see, only that will gratify the wrath of a god.”
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