Orphan of the Sun (13 page)

Tia beckoned Meryt to the front room. ‘Baki is
calmer now,' she whispered. ‘I must go to Peshedu's tomb. It is not enough to make an offering here. I must go and speak to my brother in his own chapel.'

‘Tia, this has nothing to do with my father, surely!' Meryt stared at her aunt in disbelief. ‘Why would he wish harm to Baki?'

Tia's eyes pleaded with her. ‘Please, Meryt, just do as I ask. Take care of Baki while I'm gone. Nauna is useless, she has no sympathy for him. I won't be long.' She reached into a casket for some incense and a burner. ‘Would you fetch me a loaf and some dates from the courtyard?' she asked over her shoulder.

As she did so, Meryt remembered the mysterious offering that she had found in the chapel the morning before. ‘Someone else has been offering to Peshedu,' she told her aunt, handing her the loaf. ‘I went there myself yesterday.'

Tia looked startled. ‘How strange! Are you sure?'

‘At first I thought it must be you,' said Meryt. ‘But it was not our bread lying there.'

‘No, no. It wasn't me.' Tia shoved the loaf and dates hurriedly into a bag. ‘Well, I must go. I want to be back for when Senmut arrives.' With a brief, worried smile, she kissed Meryt on the cheek and was gone.

Meryt wandered back through the house. The job of looking after Baki was not one she particularly relished, and she was relieved that his eyes were closed as she walked past. She slipped into the courtyard and sat down with her back leaning against the wall
of the house – out of sight of her cousin, but close enough to hear his movements.

Nauna and the children were on the roof, and all was quiet for a while. Meryt listened to Baki shifting around on the bed, and watched the goat chewing peacefully in the shade. She thought of Kenna, riding up over the mountain to fetch Senmut, and her cheeks flamed when she remembered what he had said about Ramose. How could he call it ‘a good thing', even if … even if … She struggled with her thoughts, unwilling to admit what was really in her mind. In the end she could not block it out. How could he say such a thing, even if he didn't want Meryt himself?

Meryt hugged her knees in frustration. It was all Dedi's fault. Until her friend had put the idea in her head, she had never thought of Kenna as anything other than a friend. But as soon as Dedi had said
such friends can become lovers
, she hadn't been able to get it out of her mind. Now it was there, plaguing her, while Kenna pined not for her but for Dedi. And Ramose? Meryt's heart filled with rage at the dim-witted stonecutter who had not even had the gumption to propose to her in person.

‘Mama!' Baki cried out from his bed, and Meryt scrambled to her feet. Baki was sitting up, staring around him, and when he saw Meryt he yelled again. ‘Mama! I want some wine!'

‘Tia's not here,' Meryt told him. ‘And there isn't any wine. I will fetch you some beer.'

She hurried into the courtyard and picked out a fresh flagon of beer, a cup and a strainer. Baki continued to call out. Meryt felt frightened at the harshness of his cries, and clutched the amulet around her neck before returning to her cousin's bedside. There, she averted her gaze from the glazed, feverish look in his eyes and concentrated on straining the beer. Then, to her relief, she heard footsteps. She guessed that Tia had returned, and looked up with a smile at the doorway.

It was not Tia. It was Senmut, still covered in the white gypsum plaster that was the mark of his trade. Meryt's smile faded and she handed the cup of beer to Baki. Senmut marched to his son's bedside and tilted his chin up, studying his face, then placed a hand on his forehead. ‘Where is Tia?' he demanded.

‘She'll be back in a minute,' Meryt told him. ‘She hasn't gone far. She left me to look after Baki.'

‘Father, I want wine,' said Baki, his voice hoarse. ‘Meryt won't give it to me.'

‘There isn't any!' protested Meryt.

‘You won't give it to me,' her cousin persisted. His breathing was now shallow and irregular and beads of sweat stood out on his forehead.

Meryt just had time to see the dismay on Senmut's face as it dawned on him that Baki really had fallen sick. Then he turned on her, his expression threatening. ‘I don't want you caring for my son,' he told her.

‘But Tia asked …' Meryt stuttered.

Senmut's eyes flashed. ‘You heard what I said.
Keep away from him, do you hear?'

Meryt's mouth dropped open. Then she backed away. ‘Yes, Uncle.'

‘Then go.'

The expression on Senmut's face was thunderous, and Meryt didn't need to be told twice. She turned and ran from the house, heading for the eastern hilltop overlooking the River Nile. When she reached the summit, gasping and out of breath, she flung herself down on a rock and thumped the ground in frustration. It seemed as though the whole world were conspiring against her – the whole world, or perhaps the gods. But why? What on earth had she done?

After a while, she calmed down and gazed out over the view, fingering her father's scarab amulet. There was no way she could go home, not right away. She knew from experience that Senmut's anger would take some time to cool, and while Baki was still unwell it would be best to keep a low profile. She decided to wait for nightfall and creep in for shelter once everyone else was asleep. Meanwhile, she needed to think.

These were indeed difficult times, and Senmut's reaction to her made little sense. Did he really think she was a danger to Baki? Surely he could not believe that! But then she remembered her dream, and the seed of doubt that had been there ever since she'd woken up began to grow. She thought of Tia, making her offering to Peshedu, and frowned. Could it be that both herself and her father were cursed by the
gods? Perhaps Senmut was right to say that nothing good would ever come of her.

When at last the sun had set and all she could see were the twinkling lamps in people's houses, Meryt crept back down the hillside and through the village. When she reached her home, she stood outside the front door and listened. There was a murmuring of voices from the back room and the courtyard, but there was no one in the middle room. As quietly as she could, she stepped inside and opened a large wooden casket. Fumbling in the darkness, she felt around until she found an old linen cloak. She closed the casket softly, wrapped the cloak around her shoulders and tiptoed back into the front room to lie down.

It wasn't easy to fall asleep. Meryt was hungry. She dreaded Senmut walking through and finding her, though for the moment she could hear that he was busy arguing with Tia. She guessed that Tia was reasoning with him on her behalf; at least, she hoped so. Tia was her only ally in the household, other than the children. She curled into a ball, comforted by the fact that she was going to help Teti in a few hours' time. Thinking of the
rekhet
's warm smile made her feel better, and she gradually drifted off to sleep.

She woke a few hours later. The household was quiet. In the darkness of the front room, it was harder to tell whether dawn was on its way, so she threw off the cloak and went to the front door. Out on the
street, she saw the faintest glimmer of light to the east, and felt relieved that the night was almost over. The people of Set Maat were early risers, but even so the streets were still deserted as Meryt headed north. She jumped nervously as a guard dog yapped at her, and broke into a jog until she reached the gate.

Teti lived in a little house outside the village wall. Meryt knew that her husband had been a scribe, one of the men who registered the attendance of the men at the tombs and oversaw their supply of equipment. But, like so many people of the village, he had died young. Teti had no children and had lost their house, which had been handed on to another workman. But scribes were well paid, and Teti's inheritance had allowed her to build her own home just outside the village walls. There were several such houses, and Meryt was unsure which one belonged to the
rekhet
. So she sat on the path that led to the valley to wait.

The sky was only just growing pink when she heard footsteps, and saw the
rekhet
approaching with a smile on her lips.

‘Ah, here you are,' said Teti. ‘Thank you for coming.'

‘Oh! Thank you for letting me,' said Meryt, scrambling to her feet. ‘It's the least I can do. I'm so sorry I jogged your basket.'

Teti's smile broadened. ‘These things happen for a reason,' she said. ‘Shall we get going?'

They walked at a brisk pace down towards the river valley. Meryt noticed that Teti's eyes were
trained on the ground, scanning the path and the rocks around, and that nothing escaped her notice. Sometimes she bent down to scoop up a pebble or even small pieces of dung, wrapping them carefully in linen and popping them in her basket. They passed between the grand mortuary temples and soon reached the area of irrigation, where suddenly there was rich, black earth and the new crop was pushing up its lush, strong shoots.

But Teti was not interested in the farmland that morning. She led Meryt down towards the river along winding pathways where wild plants and rushes grew.

‘Look! The dew,' she said, reaching out to a big, bold plant and gently pulling its leaves towards her. With her other hand, she fished out a little bottle and curved the edges of a leaf towards its rim. Meryt watched as the droplets of dew were captured one by one. Teti smiled at her. ‘I use so much. I'm always running out,' she said.

They moved on, and Teti pointed out the plants she needed to gather – wild dill and hemp, different sedges and wormwood. Meryt warmed to her task and was soon absorbed in the hunt, picking flowers for her own enjoyment as well as the plants for Teti. There were date palms along the riverbank too, and their fruit lay scattered here and there. Meryt's stomach rumbled and she remembered that she had not eaten the night before. She gathered some of the dates and ate them hungrily.

Suddenly, Teti gave a shout. ‘Meryt! Come back!'

‘What is it?' Meryt looked up. She had wandered away on her own, and was now very close to the water's edge. Teti was beckoning her urgently, and out of the corner of her eye, Meryt saw a sudden ripple on the surface of the river.

‘This way!' shouted Teti.

It was a crocodile. Meryt caught a glimpse of its slitted snake-like eyes before its snout broke the surface. She yelped in fear, then ran, scratching her legs on the sharp edges of reeds and tearing her linen dress. She reached Teti but could not stop. Her terror had taken over. Suddenly, she was back in her dream with Baki, running away from the maddened dog with all her strength. Her legs pumped on and on.

She ran until she reached an open field where she collapsed in the mud, her lungs sore and wheezing. It was several minutes before Teti appeared, her face full of concern.

‘Meryt! Are you all right?'

Meryt nodded, still unable to speak, as Teti kneeled beside her and stroked her arm.

‘You did well to run so hard,' said Teti. ‘You should not have strayed so close to the water.'

Meryt struggled to get her breath back. ‘I know,' she gulped. Everyone knew of the dangers that lurked in the Nile, and children were taught not to dabble in the shallows in areas where the crocodiles were plentiful.

Her breathing grew steadier, and Teti gazed into
her eyes. ‘You did well to run so hard,' the
rekhet
repeated. ‘But the crocodile would not have pursued you. It likes to take its prey by surprise. So it was not fear of being caught that drove you on like that. It was something else, wasn't it?'

Meryt felt mesmerised by Teti's soft brown eyes, which seemed to see beyond the surface, deep into her mind. ‘Yes,' she whispered.

‘Can you tell me about it?' Teti asked gently.

Meryt hesitated. ‘It was a dream,' she said.

‘You were being chased?'

‘Yes. By a dog.' Meryt shivered.

‘And were you alone in this dream?'

Again, Meryt hesitated, fearful of what might happen if she were honest. She knew that Teti's powers included divination, similar to the powers of the oracle. People went to her if they were afraid to go through the usual channels. Meryt had the feeling that Teti could give an interpretation of her dream, if she chose … but she was not sure that she wanted to hear it.

‘You don't have to tell me.' Teti's voice was soft and reassuring.

‘I was with my cousin Baki,' Meryt blurted.

‘And did the dog bite you?'

Meryt took a deep breath, and shook her head.

‘It bit your cousin Baki,' guessed Teti.

Meryt raised her eyes to those of the
rekhet
, biting her lip, and nodded. ‘Do you know what it means?' she whispered. ‘I am so afraid. He has fallen sick.'

Teti squeezed Meryt's arm. ‘I am not surprised. This is not a matter to be taken lightly.' The
rekhet
's face grew serious. ‘Your cousin has been touched by magic.'

Meryt stared down at the mud on her linen dress, her heart pounding. ‘Will he live?' she managed to ask.

Teti reached for Meryt's hand, and pulled her to her feet. ‘That too will depend on magic,' she said.

Chapter Seven