Orphan of the Sun, page 19
Ramose lowered a bag of tools from his bulky shoulders, and shook his head. ‘I am sorry I cause you such fear,’ he said. ‘I never meant to. Please don’t go.’
He seemed so mild and unthreatening, and Meryt’s curiosity began to get the better of her. ‘It is not fear, exactly,’ she said slowly, toying with her amulet.
‘No. You just don’t want to be near me,’ said Ramose, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. ‘It hasn’t been difficult to work out. I am not the kind of man you thought you’d end up with. Right?’
Meryt hung her head in embarrassment. ‘I … suppose so,’ she admitted, then felt doubly awkward – both for herself and on his behalf. How could he expose himself this way with her? Didn’t the man have pride? ‘I’m sorry, Ramose.’
‘Well, you needn’t worry,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t what I really wanted either.’
‘Wasn’t …!’ Meryt’s mouth dropped open. ‘What do you mean?’
Ramose met Meryt’s gaze for a second, then looked away hastily and scratched the back of his head. ‘I would have been good to you, though,’ he mumbled.
‘You would have … What?’ Meryt closed her mouth again with a snap, a sense of outrage building up inside her. She thought of the agonies she had been through: the prayers to the goddess Hathor, the offering to her father, her fear of Senmut and the endless hours pondering her dream. ‘My whole life rested on this and all you can say is that you would have been good to me, as though I were a … a … donkey or a she-goat!’
Ramose looked up, his big, doe-like eyes defensive. ‘I tried to talk to you,’ he said. ‘You ran away. I wanted to let you know the truth.’
‘The truth! That I’m the best wife you could find, said Meryt bitterly. ‘She’ll do, is that what you thought?’
The stonecutter’s features twisted with hurt. ‘No. It wasn’t like that.’
‘So what was it like?’ cried Meryt. ‘Do you know what I’ve been through because of this? My uncle Senmut wanted to get rid of me. You came along with your offer and he jumped at it. I had to fight tooth and nail for time to think about it and then … and then …’ Her voice quaked as she thought about Baki. ‘And then he found another excuse and got rid of me anyway.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Ramose, his face sorrowful. ‘I do mean it, you know.’
But Meryt was angry, and a momentary streak of cruelty rose within her. ‘Do you always do what your mother tells you?’ she asked.
Ramose recoiled as though he’d been slapped, and Meryt regretted her words at once. The stonecutter bit his lip. ‘You don’t understand,’ he said. He tried to smile, but he now seemed too upset.
‘Why?’ asked Meryt, more gently. ‘Please tell me.’
The stonecutter took a deep breath. ‘The offer was genuine. I would have married you in honour of your father. It was him that I loved, you know.’
Peshedu. Meryt stared at the stonecutter as his words sank in, taking her breath away. How could this be? What was Ramose talking about? She shook her head, bewildered. ‘You … you knew him?’ she whispered. ‘But you are only young.’
‘He died when I was seven,’ said Ramose. ‘Until then I loved him well.’
Meryt licked her lips, which felt suddenly dry. She was lost for words. ‘And …?’ she managed – for surely there was more.
‘We both did.’ Ramose scuffed his sandal against a boulder, staring at his feet. ‘Mother and I.’
‘You …’ Meryt gulped at the words.
Ramose looked up again, his expression frank. He seemed relieved to have got things off his chest. He picked up his bag of tools as though the matter were closed. ‘Well, now you know,’ he said, with a brief smile. ‘May the gods be with you, Meryt-Re.’
And he walked off towards the northern end of the cemetery.
Chapter Twelve
Meryt watched the stonecutter disappear down one of the tomb shafts, feeling slightly light-headed. She was not sure which had been the greater shock – the revelation that Ramose did not really want her, or the thought that her father and Heria had … what? What? She stamped her foot in frustration and began to hurry away from the tombs, scattering stones as she leapt down the path.
She did not want to face the heaviness that Ramose’s words had created in her chest. To know that he would not pursue her further should have brought her relief – and it had, to some extent. But the thought that he had never wanted her in the first place was a blow, an unexpected blow, for if Ramose did not want her – bumbling, podgy Ramose – then what hope could there possibly be for her?
It was all too much. She passed through the western gate and stamped along the streets in fury. ‘How dare he,’ she muttered to herself, trying to ignore the choking feeling in her throat and the stinging tears at the corners of her eyes.
Best to forget it all right away. He was only an ugly useless stonecutter! She would follow Teti’s advice: in times of trouble, keep your hands working. She would go to the rekhet’s house and make herself busy for the rest of the day.
Teti had returned from her early morning foray and was chopping herbs as Meryt walked in.
‘Can I help?’ Meryt demanded, her voice abrupt, for she did not want the rekhet to see her distress.
Teti looked up and smiled. ‘Later, perhaps.’ She nodded in the direction of the staircase. ‘You have a visitor.’
Meryt was not in the mood for any more surprises. She gazed at the staircase resentfully, as though it might move and engulf her.
‘Go on up,’ laughed Teti. ‘He is harmless, I assure you.’
‘He?’ Meryt squinted up at the edge of the roof, where a little figure now stood looking down at her. It was Mose. He waved and beckoned, a happy smile on his lips.
Despite herself, Meryt was pleased to see her cousin. She grinned, and climbed up the steps to greet him with a hug. ‘Mose, it’s good to see you. Is everything well?’ she asked him. ‘Did you give your mama the amulet?’
Mose gazed up at her, his eyes dancing. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It made her happy, Meryt. She sent me to find you.’
‘Oh!’ Meryt felt gladness swell up, followed quickly by doubt. ‘Could she not come herself?’
Mose grinned at her. ‘She doesn’t need to,’ he said. ‘I’ve come to fetch you instead.’
Meryt was not sure she had heard correctly. She frowned and stepped back. ‘Why? Has Senmut gone back to the Great Place?’
Her cousin shook his head. ‘He is still here.’
‘But …’
Mose looked up at her, his young eyes full of understanding. ‘Mama says you needn’t be afraid.’
Meryt pursed her lips. Mose had obviously got things wrong. She led him further on to Teti’s roof and sat him down on the mats. ‘Listen,’ she said firmly. ‘Your papa has said that I mustn’t go back to your house. You know that, don’t you? I’m glad that Tia is happy about the amulet, but that doesn’t mean I can come home.’
Mose looked troubled. ‘You don’t trust me,’ he said in a small voice.
‘Oh, Mose.’ Meryt reached out and hugged him. ‘Of course I trust you. But …’
‘You think I’m too young.’ A flash of resentment appeared in Mose’s eyes, then disappeared again, replaced by the usual calm. ‘I know Papa was angry with you. But Baki got better when you sent him the spell and the balm.’
‘But your papa doesn’t know about that.’
Her cousin nodded. ‘He does. I told him.’
‘You told him!’ Meryt thought of Senmut trampling the linen charm in the dust and drew back from Mose, horrified. ‘I told you not to, Mose!’
Mose gave a heavy sigh. ‘I will be glad when I am grown up,’ he said gravely. ‘Then people will stop thinking I know nothing. Mama told me that it wasn’t your fault that Baki was sick. I thought she was right. So I put the charm under his head and I gave the balm to Mama. When Baki started to get better, I told Papa why.’ He squinted up at Meryt. ‘How could that be the wrong thing to do?’
Meryt was speechless. ‘Well …’
‘It is better that he knows the truth.’ Mose nodded to himself. ‘And now you can come home.’
He stood up and took Meryt’s hand to pull her to her feet, then began to lead her confidently towards the steps. Meryt followed uncertainly, then pulled back. ‘Wait. I can’t … I can’t just go home like that.’
Mose frowned. ‘Why not?’ he asked.
It was hard to resist his childlike determination. Full of doubt, Meryt followed her cousin down the steps to the courtyard. Teti looked up from her herbs and smiled.
‘Teti, should I go?’ Meryt asked her.
The rekhet cocked her head on one side. ‘The gods are with you,’ she said. ‘Let them lead you on. They seem to guide you well, Meryt-Re.’
‘I hope so,’ murmured Meryt, embarrassed. She wished she could talk it through with Teti for longer, but Mose was already tugging her away towards the doorway.
Mose trotted quickly to the village gate. Whenever Meryt slowed down, he chivvied her along as though she were a wayward sheep. In spite of herself, Meryt was impressed by her little cousin. He had the makings of a fine young man. But then, as they neared the family home, Meryt’s heart began to beat faster. She dragged her feet and resisted her cousin’s hand.
‘I’m not sure I can do this, Mose,’ she protested, as he pulled her determinedly forward. ‘What if …’ She didn’t finish her sentence, for in the doorway of the house she spotted Tia.
Her aunt was peering out, her face full of apprehension. Meryt met her gaze, and they both stood still.
‘Tia.’ Meryt whispered her name, terrified that Mose had made a horrible mistake and that she would be sent away again, just as her hope was beginning to rise.
But Tia’s face split into a smile, and slowly, she held out her hand. Meryt’s heart gave a bound. She let go of Mose and placed her fingers in Tia’s.
‘Come in,’ said Tia simply.
Meryt stepped into the front room. In front of Peshedu’s bust, arranged neatly on the floor, were three loaves, a golden melon and a plump gourd. Next to them were Tia’s incense burner, a little box of incense and a little bowl containing embers from the oven.
‘Where is Senmut?’ asked Meryt, hovering in the doorway.
‘He is with Baki, on the roof.’ Tia looked at Mose. ‘Go and tell them we are here,’ she instructed him.
Meryt backed towards the street in fear.
‘Stay. He will not banish you again,’ Tia assured her. She lowered herself down next to the offering, clutching her growing belly. ‘I will take you to him and you will see. But first I must offer to Peshedu. You can join me, if you wish.’
Meryt hesitated. This all seemed so sudden. She noticed that Peshedu’s scarab now rested around Tia’s throat, and she reached up instinctively to touch the child-dwarf that had replaced it.
Seeing her gesture, Tia’s eyes filled with tears. She closed her hand around the scarab and looked away for a moment, biting her lip. Then she swallowed, and smiled. ‘Something happened the moment I touched the scarab,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I felt as though a burden had lifted and I knew the blessing of forgiveness. Thank you, Meryt.’
Meryt knelt beside her aunt and silently took her hand.
‘I was still afraid you would not come,’ Tia carried on. ‘But I promised Peshedu that if you did, the first thing I would do would be to offer my thanks.’
Meryt squeezed Tia’s hand. She could find nothing to say, but watched as Tia reached for the incense and the burner. Trying to block out her fear of Senmut, she sat quietly while her aunt performed a simple ritual before the bust.
When it was over, they sat for a few moments in silence.
‘It has been so hard recently,’ said Tia eventually. ‘The closer you have come to adulthood the more I have felt my guilt, and your father’s anger. I was sure he would punish me through Baki – and I was right. I did not want you to marry Ramose against your will and yet Senmut thought it was the best solution for us all.’
‘Against the will of Ramose, also?’ murmured Meryt.
Tia sat upright with a jolt. ‘Whatever do you mean?’
Meryt sighed. ‘Are you really saying you didn’t know?’
Tia’s mouth had dropped open. ‘Know what?’ she stuttered. ‘No. I don’t know anything. Heria approached Senmut about the marriage and she has always been the one pushing for it. I thought Ramose a coward but I never imagined …’ She shook her head. ‘How did you find out?’
‘He told me himself,’ said Meryt. ‘He said …’ The words stuck in her throat as she gazed up at the bust of her father, his handsome features so calm and still.
‘What?’ Tia touched her arm.
‘He said he would have married me for love of Peshedu.’
Tia’s eyes widened. She leant forward on to her knuckles, her forehead creased into a frown. ‘But he was only a boy when he died,’ she said slowly. ‘Younger than Mose.’
Meryt nodded, and threw Tia a meaningful look. ‘Yes. But his mother knew Peshedu well.’
‘Ha!’ The laugh burst from Tia’s lips like a shout. ‘Heria! And my own brother! I never heard of such a thing.’
‘Can it be true?’ Meryt scrutinised her aunt’s face, not sure whether she wanted it to be true or not; she didn’t know what it might mean.
Tia had become thoughtful, casting her mind back, searching her memory for clues. ‘Well … perhaps,’ she said. ‘Perhaps it can. If it is, I shall make it my business to find out.’
There was a scuffling in the doorway, and Meryt looked around. It was Mose standing there, his hands behind his back and his face scrunched up as though trying not to laugh. Then came a muffled giggle from the next room, and she guessed that Henut was not far behind.
‘We wanted to say …’ began Mose, as his little sister’s face peeped around his legs.
‘Wanted to say welcome home!’ squealed Henut, jumping out from behind him. She leapt towards Meryt, presenting a very squashed and wilted lotus flower in her grubby fist. ‘We got them for you.’
Mose shuffled towards her shyly with his own lotus, which was slightly less bruised though no less wilted. Meryt took both the flowers, sniffing them in turn. She swallowed the lump in her throat and smiled. ‘Thank you,’ she said, as Henut wrapped both arms around her thighs.
Their happy greeting made Meryt all the more aware of what lay ahead, and she looked across at Tia nervously. Senmut, Baki and Nauna had made no attempt to come and find her, and despite what Mose had told her she found it hard to believe that they would welcome her.
‘Let us eat,’ said Tia. ‘It is a little late for breakfast, but today is a special day.’
She led the way through the house to the courtyard. Mose and Henut escorted Meryt on either side, oblivious to the tension that was building up inside her. They reached the courtyard and stopped. Senmut and Baki sat on the reed matting in the shade, while Nauna milked the goat. Baki grinned, but Meryt knew instantly that it was the provocative grin of old. She felt a jolt of fear.
Senmut looked up at Meryt and gave a nod of acknowledgement. She smiled stiffly, and allowed Mose and Henut to lead her to a sunny patch on the mats.
‘I made some fresh cheese,’ said Tia, her tone determinedly cheerful. ‘There is a new batch of bread and the gardeners brought some cucumbers.’
Meryt watched as Nauna filled some cups with warm goat’s milk. The older woman had not greeted her, but offered Meryt the first cup of milk, which she accepted graciously. It might be only a little thing but it was a start, at least.
The family was quiet as Tia bustled around, placing the cheese and bread in the centre of the floor and shooing away the cats. She added a bowl, a knife and two cucumbers, then joined the circle and began to chop them up.
Meryt realised she wasn’t hungry. She had already eaten a breakfast of bread and cheese in Teti’s house. But Senmut raised his eyes to hers and handed her a chunk of bread, and she did not like to refuse it.
‘You need to eat,’ he said gruffly. ‘You have grown too thin.’
Baki sniggered, but Meryt felt the goodwill in Senmut’s words and allowed their warmth to comfort her.
‘Thank you, Uncle,’ she said quietly. ‘I will eat as much as I can.’
The meal continued, interspersed by Henut’s happy chatter and Nauna’s complaints that the goat no longer yielded enough milk. Baki, who had stayed quiet at first, began to talk about his new-found status as a man.
‘I will soon start receiving wages, won’t I?’ he asked, of no one in particular. ‘We will have extra grain. Extra everything. We’ll be rich.’
‘Not yet,’ said Senmut. ‘Your recovery is not yet complete. You will stay here for another two weeks.’
‘Two weeks! But I am better.’
‘The walk to the Great Place is long and arduous,’ said Senmut. ‘Make the most of your freedom, Baki. You have a whole lifetime in which to work.’
‘Yes. Unlike some people,’ said Baki nastily, throwing a glance at Meryt.
Meryt stiffened, and concentrated on chewing her bread. There was an awkward pause, which even Henut did not try to break.
At last, it was Senmut who spoke. ‘Do not say such things, Baki,’ he said, his voice strained. ‘Meryt brought the balm that healed you. For this you should treat her with respect.’
Meryt looked across at Mose, who gave her a little smile. He had been right – and she had been wrong to doubt him. But all the same, she thought she caught an edge of fear in Senmut’s voice. She tried to meet her uncle’s gaze, but he looked away again hurriedly and reached for the bowl of cucumber. She sighed. Things might have changed, but not as much as she had hoped.
The meal over, Senmut disappeared to while away the afternoon with friends. Nauna headed out to gossip with neighbours, and Baki challenged Mose to a game of senet. Meryt was left with Tia and Henut to clear up in the courtyard. Meryt saw that her aunt had started to tire more quickly than in the past, and told her to go and rest.
‘I can’t,’ protested Tia. ‘Nes is coming to grind the grain. I need to keep an eye on her.’
