Orphan of the Sun, page 7
Meryt leapt to her feet and faced her. ‘What did you say?’ she demanded. She was taller than Nofret and towered over her, shaking with rage. ‘Who told you this?’
Nofret backed away a few steps, her eyes filling with fear once more. Meryt moved quickly and barred her path. ‘Who? If you don’t tell me I shall come with you to the embalmers’ workshops and tell them what I have seen.’
Nofret’s shoulders dropped in defeat. She shrugged. ‘It’s no great secret. Nes told me,’ she said. ‘Do you think that servants never talk among themselves?’
Meryt let out her breath slowly, remembering Baki’s taunts of the day before. The Nubian servant Nes had been sitting there quietly all the time, grinding the grain, taking everything in. It was a sobering lesson.
Folding her arms, she looked at Nofret coolly. ‘And you think I wield the power of Sekhmet,’ she said, a slight threat in her voice. ‘Perhaps it is time you showed the gods greater respect. Your father’s fate was mild compared to what they can bring upon you.’
She expected the servant girl to quail before her, but now, Nofret’s attitude seemed to have shifted. She narrowed her eyes and gave a little smile. ‘You wouldn’t dare curse me,’ she said, inching around Meryt towards the exit.
Meryt snorted, and let her pass. ‘I hardly need to,’ she retorted. ‘You are doing enough for the gods to curse you of their own accord!’
As Nofret bounded down towards the main path, Meryt sat down in the patch of sunlight to think. The servant girl baffled her. On the one hand, she was the weak, timid creature she had always been. But on the other, she had a streak of something else – something fearless, sly, and full of defiance. It was strange. She had said that she was not stealing for her master, Userkaf, which was only natural; she would be terrified of admitting such a thing. But to deny it with such craftiness did not add up. Could it be that the servant girl wanted to harness the power of the amulets for her own purposes?
It was impossible to work out. Meryt sighed, and thought of her other discovery: that gossip about herself and Ramose was spreading through the village like wildfire, at least among the servants. It wouldn’t be long before everyone knew. The thought of her friend Kenna flashed into Meryt’s mind and her heart filled with anguish. How would he respond? Would he be sorry to lose his childhood friend or happy to see her married off? If only she could prevent the whole thing …
Well, she had to try. She picked up the basket containing her offering and stepped towards the chapel of her father’s tomb.
Chapter Five
The chapel was a lovely little place, its mud-brick dome decorated inside with pictures of Meryt’s great-grandfather greeting the gods and tending a vineyard in the Next World. As well as a house, each worker in the Great Place was also allocated a tomb, and as long as men apprenticed their sons those tombs remained within a family. Now, Peshedu’s line had ended, for Tia and Meryt didn’t count. Without an apprentice to hand it on to, his tomb would soon go to someone else. Tia would eventually lie alongside Senmut, and Meryt … well, there was no saying what would happen to her.
But for now, Peshedu lay undisturbed somewhere beneath the chapel, the tomb entrance sealed and hidden so that no one could break into it. Meryt stepped reverently to the chapel threshold and looked inside.
She gasped. There, on the chapel altar, lay a fresh offering. Figs, a fresh lettuce and two loaves. Meryt sniffed the air, which still held the faint smell of incense, and stepped inside. As far as she knew, the only person who made regular offerings to Peshedu was Tia. But Meryt was sure her aunt had not visited the tomb in the last two days – Tia had been totally absorbed by Baki’s ritual! And besides, the loaves were not as she or Tia made them. Meryt’s heart began to beat faster.
She held out a trembling hand and picked up the lettuce. Its leaves were still crisp. She put it down and gently pressed one of the loaves. Her finger left a deep imprint in the soft bread. Whoever had been here had visited in the last few hours – probably late the night before.
Meryt took a deep breath. Such offerings were not made lightly. There were few villagers who could afford to give away much of the food they ate. So there was someone who had enough of a connection to her father to give him some of their freshest goods … and Meryt had no idea who.
She searched her mind for an answer, but drew a blank. It was a total mystery. Eventually, she moved the offering carefully to one side and reached into her basket. She fetched out the pomegranate and the loaf and placed them on the altar. She prepared the incense in the burner, then placed the straw in a heap and quickly produced sparks with the kindling sticks. From her little straw fire, she lit the incense.
‘Peshedu, blessed spirit of Re – life, prosperity, health,’ she began, swinging the incense. ‘Hear your daughter’s prayer. These are troubled times. I may be forced to marry the stonecutter Ramose against my will. I have asked for help from the goddess Hathor but she has sent me only one dream. In this dream, you guide Ramose away from me towards the Great Place. Father, what does this mean?’
She fell silent for a moment and stared at her offering, imagining her father enjoying the ripe pomegranate in the Next World. Then she spoke again.
‘Peshedu, blessed spirit of Re – life, prosperity, health. Tia says you plague the family and that she has no peace from you. Father, why should this be? I believe you were a good man, and I have been a good daughter since you left us for the sacred barque of Re. I have served Senmut and Tia well and done their bidding. Please answer my prayer.’
As she prayed, the rays of the sun reached the chapel door and inched towards the altar. Meryt stared at the patterns formed by the smoke dancing in the sunlight, then gazed at the stranger’s offering – the lettuce, the figs and the two fresh loaves. ‘And who has been here before me?’ she murmured, as the last of the incense burnt out.
By the time Meryt left the chapel, the whole of the western cemetery was bathed in morning sunlight. She walked down to the village slowly, swinging her reed basket, watching the comings and goings from the southern gate. As she reached the road, one of Kenna’s brothers came out of the village on his father’s donkey. He trotted past her with a smile and a wave, calling that he was off to do a little moonlighting in an official’s tomb.
Meryt waved after him, then turned back to the gate. She didn’t see the woman in front of her.
‘Careful!’ the woman cried out as Meryt jogged her basket. It fell, its contents spilling on to the road.
‘Oh! I’m sorry –’ Meryt hurriedly crouched beside the woman to help her pick up everything. She stared at what lay on the ground. Plants of all sorts, flowerheads and seeds. Lotus blossoms and the root of the mandrake. Pungent fenugreek and hemp, thorny twists of acacia, and many others that Meryt did not recognise. The woman must have been down in the valley gathering all this since before the break of dawn … Meryt looked at her face. It was Teti, the rekhet, the Knowing One.
Meryt felt her stomach twist in fear. Teti’s powers of divination and magic were well known in the village, and she did not want to anger her. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she repeated.
Teti was picking up each stem and blossom tenderly, brushing off the coating of white limestone dust. But many were bruised, and seeds lay scattered all around. She shook her head. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘I can always collect more.’
‘Let me help you,’ blurted Meryt.
Teti looked at her, a little smile playing on her lips. Shyly, Meryt met her gaze. She had never been this close to the Knowing One before, and she was surprised at how young and gentle she seemed. Her face was oval and pretty; her eyes smiled as though she laughed a lot.
‘I doubt you know how,’ said Teti. ‘Can you tell one leaf from another?’
Meryt looked at the profusion before her. ‘I know some,’ she said. ‘I know the celery and the acacia and the lotus. I could learn.’
Teti seemed amused. ‘Very well,’ she said. ‘Do you know where I live?’
Meryt nodded. ‘Just outside the village wall on the north side.’
‘Tomorrow or the day after?’
Meryt thought for a moment. The men would return to work in the tombs the next day. Until they had gone, she would do better to show willing around the house.
‘The day after,’ she replied. ‘I suppose you leave before dawn.’
Teti nodded. ‘The morning dew has powers of its own,’ she said, with a smile. ‘But only those who rise early can harness it. What’s your name?’
‘Meryt-Re.’ Meryt returned her smile, feeling glad. She placed a delicate lotus blossom on the top of Teti’s basket, remembering Dedi’s words only a few days before. You sound like Teti, she had said. Standing here with the rekhet in front of her, the words seemed somehow less frightening.
‘Thank you, Meryt-Re,’ said Teti. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’
Nauna’s voice greeted Meryt when she was still four houses’ distance from home.
‘About time too! Where do you think you’ve been?’
Senmut’s mother was standing in the street with a broom, keeping an eye on local goings-on. Meryt quickened her step, breaking into a jog. It wasn’t worth explaining things to Nauna. She gave the older woman a respectful nod and slipped past her into the house.
The middle room was empty save for the remnants of the feast, which were strewn across the floor, and the air stank of stale wine and beer. In the back room, Baki still lay on the bed, his eyes bright with pain.
‘The wine is finished,’ Tia was telling him. ‘I’m sorry, Baki. The men drank it all.’ She spotted Meryt in the doorway, and gave a wan smile. ‘I will send Meryt to Harmose for another ointment.’
Meryt stepped forward. ‘Do you want me to go now?’ she asked. ‘I could go before clearing up.’
Nauna appeared behind her. ‘Any excuse to avoid work!’ she grumbled.
‘Nauna, Baki is in pain,’ said Tia sharply.
The older woman sniffed. ‘Senmut was much braver,’ she muttered. ‘I didn’t have to waste grain on ointments and wine. He took the pain like a man.’
‘I am a man,’ came Baki’s voice from the bed. ‘Little you know about it, Nauna.’
‘Enough, Baki,’ said Tia firmly. ‘Don’t speak to your grandmother like that. Meryt will go to the doctor.’
‘Shall I take grain from the cellar?’ asked Meryt.
Tia nodded. ‘Or a leftover loaf or two, if there are any.’
Meryt went into the courtyard and replaced the kindling sticks. Henut and Mose were milking the goat, Henut holding a bowl while Mose squeezed the udders expertly. Meryt had a quick look around. There were four loaves left, and she put two into her linen bag as Henut smiled up at her.
‘Dada has a headache,’ the little girl told her. ‘We’re mustn’t make any noise.’
Meryt thought of the previous night’s revelries, and guessed that Senmut had staggered on to the roof once the sun had risen to get more sleep. ‘Never mind. You can help me in the middle room when I get back. I won’t be long.’
She headed out to the street once more, this time walking north to the doctor’s house. Her job was soon done. Harmose accepted the loaves and told her to apply a mixture of honey and goose fat to Baki’s wound.
‘Wrap it up with lint,’ he told her. ‘He’ll be fine in a few days.’
‘Is that all?’ asked Meryt.
‘Yes, yes,’ said Harmose brusquely. ‘Why, what else do you expect for two loaves?’
Meryt hesitated. ‘I thought there might be a charm. A spell,’ she suggested.
Harmose wiped his forehead impatiently. ‘There’s no evil to cast out of a wound like that. It was made by the priests,’ he said. ‘What good do you think a spell would do? Apply the honey and fat as I’ve told you.’
Meryt stood at the doctor’s door uncertainly. She did not want to return home empty-handed. ‘We have no goose fat,’ she said.
‘Oh, by Sobek and Mut! Wait here.’
Meryt did as he said, her dislike of the man mounting with each passing moment. At last he reappeared with a small jar half-full of fat.
‘Bring the jar back when the fat is finished,’ he snapped. ‘I’m a doctor, not the king’s fool.’
It was a disagreeable morning. Baki wailed as Tia did the doctor’s bidding, and Nauna grumbled constantly as though it were she who had the headache. When Senmut at last came down from the roof, he growled at the children and demanded food that had been finished off the night before. As the heat of the day drove everyone into the shade to rest, Meryt escaped, and ran to Dedi’s house.
‘Meryt!’ her friend greeted her in a low voice. ‘Come in. Father is asleep with my brothers on the roof, but we can sit in the courtyard.’
The two girls padded through the house, past the womenfolk, who were dozing in the middle room, and out into the yard at the back. Half of it was shaded with reed roofing, and the girls squatted down to chat.
‘How are you? Did Baki endure his ritual well?’ asked Dedi.
‘Well enough,’ replied Meryt, with a grimace. ‘But I doubt being a man will improve him much.’
‘Oh, you never know,’ said Dedi. ‘A few months of hard work in the tombs will do him good – although he’ll be one of Sennedjem’s men. He won’t be working under Father’s strict regime, will he?’
Meryt looked at her friend, trying to gauge her expression. It was the first time she had ever heard Dedi refer to Nebnufer’s firm hand in the tombs. Userkaf’s accusation must have had an impact, despite the council’s findings. ‘I doubt there is really so much difference between the two foremen,’ she said in a reassuring tone.
Dedi laughed. ‘I was only joking,’ she said. ‘I agree. There has been much discussion of it over the last few days, and Sennedjem came to eat with us last night. He and Father are still firm friends.’
Meryt felt relieved. The two foremen were clearly sticking together, and her friend seemed to think the matter was closed. She decided not to mention her misgivings about Userkaf. It could do no good, for she did not know what the troublesome draughtsman’s aims might be. ‘So did Neben-Maat come to dinner too?’ she asked.
Dedi flushed. ‘Yes,’ she said, with a coy smile. ‘Sennedjem is happy for the marriage to go ahead. I shall be Neben’s wife before the harvest.’
‘That’s wonderful! What will you be …’
Meryt’s question was drowned as someone banged on the front door, and the two girls looked at each other in surprise.
Dedi frowned. ‘I wonder who that can be? Most people are asleep.’
The banging continued. ‘Nebnufer!’ called a voice. ‘Wake up. There is news!’
The face of Ahmose, one of Dedi’s brothers, appeared at the top of the steps. ‘Who is it, Dedi?’
‘No idea,’ she replied. ‘Should I go and see?’
There was more hammering on the door. ‘Yes, hurry up!’ Ahmose told her. ‘I’ll wake Father.’
Meryt waited while Dedi went to open the door. Within seconds, a workman from Nebnufer’s gang was rushing through the house and up the courtyard steps. Dedi trailed after him, looking bewildered. She beckoned to Meryt and they followed the man up on to the roof.
‘It’s Userkaf again!’ cried the man. ‘Nebnufer, you must do something!’
Nebnufer was sitting with his legs covered in a linen sheet, and his sons on either side. ‘Calm yourself,’ he said. ‘I cannot do anything until I understand what you are saying.’
‘Userkaf is not satisfied with the findings of the council. He is going to consult the oracle. This is what I have heard.’
‘Where did you hear it?’
The man looked uncertain. He hesitated, and Meryt realised he was afraid. ‘I … I just heard it on the street,’ he said. ‘I came to tell you right away.’
Nebnufer rose to his feet. ‘Thank you, Ipuy,’ he said. He placed a fatherly hand on the man’s shoulder. ‘We shall see. Things rumoured on the street do not always come to pass.’
‘But …’ Ipuy began, shuffling his feet.
Meryt saw conflict on his face and wondered what he was hiding. Nebnufer must have seen the same thing, for he smiled gently. ‘Are you sure this is only a rumour?’ he asked.
‘Yes … yes,’ the workman assured him. ‘I overheard it. That’s all.’
‘Well, it will not be long before we find out,’ said Nebnufer. ‘The oracle speaks this evening. I shall continue to rest until then. Go peacefully, Ipuy, and may the gods be with you.’
‘Aren’t you going to do anything?’ Ipuy demanded.
Nebnufer looked at him sternly. ‘The gods are just, Ipuy,’ he said. ‘Amenhotep is my guide just as he is yours. Let the oracle speak. I shall not prevent it.’
The workman left. Nebnufer and his sons were silent, and Dedi led Meryt back down the steps away from them. Dedi’s beautiful face was still, the happy smiles gone. The two girls were sitting down in the courtyard as Dedi’s mother, Wab, appeared in the doorway.
‘What happened, Dedi?’ Wab asked. ‘What did Ipuy want?’
‘It was about Userkaf,’ Dedi told her.
Wab hurried up the steps to the roof, and Dedi sighed. ‘I thought it was all over,’ she said, her voice trembling slightly. ‘I don’t understand why Userkaf is causing so much trouble. What if …’
She trailed off, but Meryt could guess her friend’s mind. What if we are forced to call off the marriage? She reached and touched Dedi’s arm.
‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘Your father is right. The oracle is just. Everything will be fine and Userkaf will be shamed.’
‘But he seems so determined,’ said Dedi. ‘What is he trying to achieve?’
Meryt shrugged. She did not know the answer any more than Dedi did. She thought of Nofret and the amulets but, as she had done with Kenna, she kept the information to herself. No good could come of speaking about it. Let the thefts rest on Nofret’s head alone.
‘He will achieve nothing,’ she said firmly. ‘Just wait and see.’
