Orphan of the Sun, page 13
It was a while before there was an answer. When Teti appeared, her eyes looked big and wide, almost trance-like, and for once she did not smile.
‘Meryt,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I’m glad you have come. I am helping someone at the moment. Go up to the roof and wait for me there.’
She ushered Meryt through her house, and Meryt saw three huddled figures in the front room – women who covered their faces as she passed. The room smelt strongly of incense and other herbs, and the atmosphere was heavy and depressed. Meryt felt a chill run through her. She wondered what was happening, but knew instinctively that death was hovering close by. Teti took her as far as the courtyard, then pointed silently at the staircase. Meryt nodded, and the rekhet disappeared back into the house.
There were no lights up on the roof. Meryt sat and looked out to the Peak of the West, watching its silhouette gradually blend in with the night sky. The desert air was growing cooler every evening, and she wished she had brought something to wrap around her shoulders. Her memory flitted to Nofret, and the beautiful linen shawl she had offered. Meryt dismissed the thought hurriedly. She already owned a shawl; the problem was that all her belongings, such as they were, lay in Senmut’s house. She had access to nothing, not even her ostracon of the goddess Hathor. She rubbed her arms and legs, and waited.
‘I’m sorry to keep you so long.’ Teti’s voice greeted her, and she turned to see the rekhet appear at the top of the steps, carrying a lamp. She stood looking over to where Meryt was sitting, her face still solemn in the flickering orange light.
Meryt stood up, her heart beating faster. ‘Would it be better if I came back another time?’ she asked, almost hopefully.
‘No, no. You can come downstairs now.’ Teti turned and went down again and, summoning all her courage, Meryt followed her.
In the front room, Teti busied herself with clearing away the remains of the incense she had burnt, and made the room bright with several lamps. She disappeared for a moment, then returned with a handful of fresh herbs that she wafted around the room, muttering to herself.
‘There. The air is lighter now,’ she said, when she had finished. To her astonishment, Meryt realised it was true. Teti smiled, and sat down next to her. ‘I am glad you are here, Meryt.’
Meryt smiled nervously. ‘I want to know how to save Baki,’ she blurted. ‘He is very sick and it is all my fault. I have to face up to it, as you said.’
Teti looked at her quickly. ‘Did I say it was your fault? I don’t think so.’
‘But you said …’
‘That you have a gift with dreams.’
Meryt was puzzled. ‘Yes, but I dreamt about Baki and you told me he has been touched by magic.’
Teti shook her head. ‘You have misunderstood. Seeing something does not mean that you caused it. These are two different things. The dream may be yours, but the magic has nothing to do with you.’
Meryt sat in silence, allowing Teti’s words to sink in. At last she raised her head. ‘But can we still save him?’
‘We can try. But first, you must tell me all that has happened with him in recent weeks.’
Meryt’s heart leapt into her mouth. To tell the whole story might mean mentioning Ramose and Heria. Perhaps this was where her prayers had led her – perhaps it was Teti who could give her the words of the goddess. And at the prospect of being told that she must marry the stonecutter, her courage failed her. ‘Just about Baki? Or other things?’ she stuttered.
‘Just about Baki,’ Teti reassured her. ‘Why, what else might there be?’
‘N … nothing,’ said Meryt. She hesitated. ‘But there are other things that affect the whole family.’ She regarded the rekhet fearfully.
‘Let’s start with Baki,’ said Teti calmly.
Nodding in relief, Meryt went over what she had said that morning: her own entry into the family at the age of two, the rivalry that had always existed between herself and her cousin, and how Senmut always favoured his oldest son.
‘Baki has been training as a plasterer for two years now,’ she explained. ‘Senmut has assurances from Sennedjem that he will be taken on by the gang. But it has brought out the worst in Baki. He seems to have no respect for others or for the gods. He speaks lightly of curses and thinks that nothing can touch him. He went into his ritual with a smile on his face, for he did not believe that he would suffer pain. I warned him that he should be careful but he laughed at me. And now he has fallen sick.’
Teti listened carefully. ‘And how has he been treated?’
‘My aunt has made offerings. I dare say my uncle has too. And I went to Harmose, the doctor.’
‘What did he give you?’
‘He told us to apply honey and goose fat. We had no goose fat, so Harmose gave us a pot of his own.’
Teti snorted. ‘Old and rancid, no doubt.’
‘I don’t know. It was only a small pot and Tia soon finished it.’
‘Well, that is as much as you can expect from Harmose. He is not the best of his profession. His father took much greater care over his patients. It’s time the government appointed someone new, but who is to say so? All the men still swear by him.’ Teti sighed. ‘This story tells me little, I’m afraid. It is possible that Baki has brought the evil upon himself, for the gods can sometimes be harsh. I can weave a spell to bind the magic, and make a fresh balm to apply to his wound. After that … we shall have to wait and see.’
Meryt took this in. ‘But … what about my dream?’ she asked tentatively, not sure that she wanted to hear the answer.
Teti smiled. ‘It is as I told you,’ she said. ‘You have dreams that other people do not. And you have taken the first steps to making use of your gift. And now, we must begin to weave our spell, if your cousin is to be saved. Wait here.’
The rekhet got up and left the room, but soon returned with a strip of linen and a nefret flower, one of the riverside plants that they had picked only that morning. She lay them at Meryt’s feet, then opened a casket that lay in one corner and brought out incense and a burner.
‘The flower will bring healing. We will bind it into the cloth with a knot,’ explained Teti. ‘We will make seven knots in all. The other six will bind the ailment and banish it from Baki’s body.’
Meryt nodded, and sat quietly as Teti filled the incense burner, lit it and began to chant in a low voice, swaying gently to and fro. First she began with a list of names, calling them out in a rapid, rhythmic murmur. Then she reached for the linen and tied the first knot.
‘Ailment of Baki, I call you by your most secret name and I bind you. The magic that has called you is broken. You will lose your power over Baki, son of Senmut and Tia.’
The lamplight flickered and smoked as Teti swayed more forcefully, her eyes closed and sweat breaking out on her forehead. Meryt watched her in awe, sliding away from her slightly for fear of what such magic might do. Teti twisted the linen in her hands and tied another knot, repeating the spell in a slightly louder voice, then another, until six knots were tied and the incantation chanted over each. By the time the six knots were tied, she was breathing heavily and Meryt was scarcely breathing at all, her back pressed against the wall of the room.
Teti opened her eyes, which now looked glazed and heavy. She picked up the nefret flower and made a final knot, encasing the delicate plant inside it. ‘Ailment of Baki!’ she cried. ‘I call you by all your names and by your most secret name of all. In the name of all the gods I break the magic that holds you to Baki and I bind your power. You will allow the nefret flower to do its work.’
Silence fell, and Meryt allowed herself to breathe again as Teti gently caressed the knotted linen. When all was still and the incense had burnt out, the rekhet looked up and smiled. ‘The spell is cast,’ she said. ‘I will make the balm for his wound in the morning, with fresh dew. Meanwhile you can take this and place it under his head. It would be better if the incantation were spoken at the same time, but this is probably the best we can do for now.’
‘Senmut may not let me in,’ said Meryt timidly. ‘What should I do if he refuses?’
Teti handed her the linen charm and held on to her hand for a moment. ‘You will find a way,’ she said, looking deep into Meryt’s eyes. ‘Come back for the balm tomorrow.’
Full of hope and determination, Meryt went straight to her home, clutching the piece of linen close to her chest. She paused outside the front door, then raised her hand to the red wood. Tears sprang to her eyes as she did so. Here she was, standing at the door of her own home, afraid to enter – and about to knock as though she were just a stranger. Steeling herself, she rapped out a quick tattoo then stood back in the shadows to wait, praying that it would not be Senmut who answered.
It was Tia who came to the door. She looked out on to the street anxiously, her face pale in the moonlight.
‘Tia!’ Meryt whispered. ‘It’s me.’
She stepped forward, but Tia recoiled in fear. ‘Meryt! Senmut …’
‘What’s going on?’ Senmut’s voice called from inside the house.
‘It’s nothing,’ she called, then turned to Meryt with a finger to her lips. ‘You must go,’ she whispered urgently. ‘If Senmut finds you here …’
She did not have time to finish her sentence. Senmut himself appeared, looking tired and irritable. ‘Tia, come inside. Who wants us at this hour?’
Meryt swallowed. Summoning all her courage, she stood before her uncle, offering the charm.
‘Teti the Knowing One has sent a charm for Baki,’ she told him, her voice trembling. ‘It is to break the magic that hangs over him.’
Senmut stared at her. For a second, Meryt’s heart filled with hope. Perhaps he would accept her, after all. But then he reached forward and snatched the knotted linen from her and flung it to the ground. With a furious glance at Meryt, he spat at it, then stepped forward and ground it into the baked mud of the street.
‘That is what I think of your charm,’ he snarled at her. ‘Do you think I would allow such a thing to touch my son? You found good company in Teti. That woman is a good-for-nothing. She has the Evil Eye.’
And with that, he stormed back into the house. Tia hesitated, her face streaked with tears. Meryt thought she might stay to speak for longer, but Senmut was calling her and neighbours were beginning to peer out on to the street. She hugged Meryt quickly.
‘I have to go,’ she whispered. ‘Where are you staying?’
‘At Dedi’s house,’ Meryt replied, as Tia extricated herself.
‘That’s good,’ said her aunt. ‘They will care for you well.’ She stepped back into the house and smiled wanly.
‘But, Tia …’ Meryt began.
It was no good. Tia had already retreated into the house, closing the door behind her. Meryt reached down and picked up the linen charm. The knots were still intact, and she brushed off the dust gently, her fingers trembling. May the gods forgive him, she murmured, fear gripping her heart. But she did not know which gods to address, or what their response might be. Clutching the charm tightly in her fist, she wandered towards Dedi’s house, feeling empty, lost and confused.
It was Wab who opened the door. She stared at Meryt for a moment, then opened the door wider to let her in. ‘It’s late,’ she said abruptly.
Meryt hung her head and said nothing. Wab tutted and ushered her through to one of the back rooms, where Dedi already lay under covers on the floor. She peeped out as Meryt appeared.
‘Meryt! Where have you been? I’ve made up a bed for you.’ She sat up, indicating the reed matting next to her, on which further covers were laid. ‘Have you been out with Kenna?’
Meryt shook her head. All she wanted to do was crawl under the covers and fall asleep. She had failed Teti. She had failed Baki. And now, judging by the reception from Wab, she was being a nuisance to her friend’s family too. She sat down heavily and slipped the linen charm under the matting.
‘There’s something wrong.’ Dedi’s voice was sharp. ‘Meryt, where have you been?’
‘I asked you to trust me,’ Meryt mumbled.
‘What was it that you were carrying when you came in?’
Meryt let her shoulders sag. So Dedi had seen the charm, anyway. She gave up. ‘A charm,’ she said dully. ‘Teti gave it to me. It was to help Baki’s recovery but Senmut would not allow me to give it to him.’
‘Why ever not?’ exclaimed Dedi.
Meryt looked at her. She knew that Dedi’s family did not think badly of Teti. Perhaps there could be some support for her here, after all. ‘He says Teti has the Evil Eye.’
‘That’s nonsense.’ Dedi looked indignant. ‘Teti is the most gentle person in the village.’
‘Do you really think so?’
‘Yes.’ Dedi’s eyes flashed. ‘It is always the men who say things like that. I am sorry, Meryt. That’s where you went, isn’t it – to Teti?’
Meryt nodded.
‘Well, I’m glad,’ declared Dedi. ‘You have done a good thing for your family.’
Meryt tried to smile. ‘Thank you,’ she said quietly, and lifted the covers over her legs. She could not bring herself to explain further. Let Dedi think the best of her; she had said enough.
Meryt slept fitfully in the strange room. She was afraid of rolling over and waking Dedi. It was just another fear to add to the many that ran through her mind, and she was tense and jittery by the morning. Dedi, on the other hand, slept soundly and was energetic from the instant she awoke.
From then on, Meryt scarcely had a minute to herself. Her friend was full of enthusiasm for the tasks of the day, the first of which was preparing the perfume cones. It was easy enough to do. Wab had ordered a vat of tallow from suppliers in the valley, which was to be softened with linseed oil and infused with the essence of frankincense and myrrh before being shaped into little cones. Every guest would be handed one as they arrived to fix to the top of their wig. There, they would gradually melt and release their sweet, heavy scent over the course of the evening.
Dedi and Meryt sat side by side, moulding the little mounds of fat and placing them on wooden boards. Dedi was happy and relaxed, humming a tune as she worked, and Meryt envied her. She sat in silence, worrying about the linen charm and about returning to Teti for the balm. What if Baki died before she was able to get them to him? And what if Senmut never allowed it?
When a servant brought bread and fruit for them to eat, she found she could barely touch anything. She nibbled on a piece of bread, wondering how to get away. But today was the day of the party and Wab was never far off, ordering her servants around and checking on everyone’s progress. Meryt remembered that she would be playing the lyre that evening, and her stomach churned nervously.
‘I’ll get the lyre out once we’ve finished this,’ said Dedi, as though reading her thoughts. ‘We can practise for a while until the flowers are delivered. The servants will help us make the garlands – we won’t have time to make them all ourselves.’
Meryt nodded, resigned to the inevitable. She would not be able to return to Teti’s that day. The charm had been spat and trampled upon. You will find a way, Teti had said; but it was becoming all too clear that she would not.
‘You look beautiful,’ said Dedi, dabbing a little more red ochre on to Meryt’s cheeks. ‘You should wear green around your eyes more often.’
Meryt peered at herself in Dedi’s polished bronze mirror. Her own wig, with its coarse date-palm strands, did little to flatter her. But Dedi and Wab had a spare wig that Wab had said she could wear. It was made of real human hair, shiny and smooth, that fell in an elegant line beyond her shoulders. To her surprise, Meryt felt a ripple of excitement. Perhaps, after all, the party would be fun, and she would be able to forget her troubles for a few hours. She smiled. ‘Thank you, Dedi,’ she said, and took a deep breath. ‘I suppose the first guests will be arriving soon.’
Her friend nodded. ‘Yes, we need to hurry. Mother wants us to greet them with the cones and the garlands at the door.’
She gave Meryt’s make-up a final dab, then checked her own in the mirror. As ever, Dedi looked stunning. To distinguish her from the servants, she wore a dress of exceptionally fine linen – so fine it was almost transparent – which flowed around her body like the morning mist. She insisted that Meryt should also wear her spare linen gown, and lent her a collar of colourful beads to add to her own simple bangles. Along with the wig and the make-up, it made her feel special, and she followed her friend through the house with a lighter heart.
Nebnufer and Wab took up pride of position in the middle room of the house as guests began to troop in. The house was larger than most but it was still small, and Meryt realised that the invitations had been restricted to just a portion of Nebnufer’s gang – mainly the draughtsmen, sculptors, painters and their wives. It was obvious why. This was no spontaneous party, but an attempt to placate the troublemakers.
When half the guests had arrived, Userkaf himself stepped through the door. Meryt slipped a garland around his neck, then one around the neck of his wife. The draughtsman barely noticed her, and so she studied him curiously. He was not handsome, but he had a strange, vibrant energy that made him seem very alive. His eyes were already darting around the house, sizing up what was on offer and who else had been invited. There was a murmur as he walked through to the middle room, and Meryt raised an eyebrow. There was no doubt that his arrival had caused a stir.
Dedi nudged her, and she realised that another guest was waiting for his garland. She picked one up – and stared at the man who stood before her. It was Kha, the painter. Nofret’s tormenter. The man who demanded the sacred amulets for his own secret use …
Kha lowered his head for her to slip the garland over it. ‘Thank you,’ he said politely, with a deep, warm smile.
Meryt tried not to stare at him, but she was surprised, all the same. He looked such a gentle man, one whose smile reached his eyes. He put a hand on his wife’s waist and shepherded her forward, allowing her to lean on him a little. They seemed such a quiet, happy couple, and Meryt could scarcely tear her eyes away as they wandered through to join the throng. She took a deep breath, wondering what the evening would bring.
