Orphan of the Sun (17 page)

‘I will do all I can to help, if you are good enough to allow me to stay,' Meryt said, raising her eyes to the older woman's.

Wab seemed to be sizing her up carefully. ‘I am surprised that your aunt does not have greater need of you,' she said. She sounded suspicious. ‘She is heavy with child. This is not the time to be sending away what help she has!'

‘No,' agreed Meryt, her voice trembling slightly. ‘To tell you the truth, Tia would rather I stayed. It is my uncle who has asked me to leave.'

‘Yes. So Dedi told me.' Wab's tone was unconvinced. For a moment, Meryt thought that she was going to question further, or send her away. But then she shrugged. ‘Well, as it happens, an extra pair of hands will come in useful this week. And Dedi will be pleased to have you here.'

Meryt looked at her friend, who was grinning in excitement. She smiled nervously, then turned back to Wab. ‘Thank you very much,' she said. ‘I am very grateful. And I will work hard for you, I promise.'

Wab raised her perfect eyebrows. ‘I will expect it,' she said.

‘Mother wants us to make the perfume cones,' Dedi put in enthusiastically. ‘The servants will make all the bread and beer, but we can prepare the flower garlands for the guests.'

‘Yes,' agreed Wab. ‘And there will be other work
too, if you have time.'

In spite of her situation, Meryt's smile widened. Making perfume cones and flower garlands was not exactly the most unpleasant of tasks. Her time of exile might even be an enjoyable one.

Dedi slipped her arm around her mother's waist. ‘You won't make us work too hard, will you, Mother?' she asked playfully.

Wab's stern features relaxed a little. ‘Hard enough. But I am not your father,' she responded, a smile twitching her lips.

Dedi laughed merrily, and Meryt recoiled in surprise. How could this family take Userkaf's accusations so lightly? Did they not see what he was like? Yes, the council and the oracle had found against him, but he would surely spring back with something new. That much was obvious! Meryt opened her mouth to speak, then changed her mind. It was too great a risk – she could not afford to jeopardise her lodgings so soon.

Wab went back down the steps, and Dedi reached for Meryt's arm, squeezing it in delight. ‘It's going to be so good having you here,' she said. ‘We don't need to make the cones until tomorrow. They will lose their shape if they're made too soon. But we can choose a nice girdle for you to wear around your hips.'

Meryt's mouth dropped open. ‘But I won't be actually going to the party, will I?' she asked.

‘Of course you will,' laughed Dedi. ‘We all will. In
fact I was wondering if you would like to play the lyre.'

‘Play the … what, at the party?'

‘Where else, silly! You play it much better than I do. If you play the lyre and I play the sistrum, we will only need to hire a harpist and some dancers. Father will be pleased – the party is costing him enough as it is.'

Meryt felt almost winded. She loved playing Dedi's lyre, but she had never played it in public. It would be an enormous privilege to play at Nebnufer's party. She swelled with pride and happiness – and then, just as quickly, the weight of her situation dawned on her again, and her heart sank. How could she play the lyre happily at a party when Baki lay sick – and she had no home to call her own?

‘What is it?' asked Dedi anxiously. ‘You don't need to worry about it, Meryt. You're just as talented as the musicians we usually hire. You have time to practise. You'll manage easily.'

‘It's not that.' Meryt chewed her lip, then managed to smile. ‘I would love to play the lyre. Thank you, Dedi.'

‘So what is it?' Dedi was persistent.

Meryt realised that she could carry on no longer. It was crazy, thinking that she could just hide in her friend's house, away from the life that had crumbled around her. The fact was that she knew what Baki needed. Senmut might not take her back whatever
happened, but she would never forgive herself if she did not at least do her best to save his oldest son. She took a deep breath and looked her friend in the eye. ‘Dedi, do you trust me?'

Dedi looked taken aback. ‘Of course I do. Why?'

‘There is something I have to do. I can't rest until I've done it.'

‘What sort of thing?'

Meryt searched her friend's face pleadingly. ‘I can't tell you. Not yet. Will you trust me enough to let me go for a few hours?'

Astonishment flooded Dedi's features. ‘Meryt, you're not a prisoner! We are not going to make you stay in the house against your will. You are a guest.'

She seemed almost offended, but Meryt was too anxious to care. ‘Thank you, Dedi,' she said quickly. ‘I'll be back as soon as I can. Then I will do everything you want me to, I promise.' And before Dedi could reply, she turned and ran lightly down the staircase.

The sun was disappearing behind the Peak of the West as Meryt emerged from Dedi's house. She gazed up at the darkening western cliff for a moment and mouthed a silent prayer to Meretseger, the goddess who lived there. Meretseger was a brooding goddess with none of the loving kindness of Hathor, and perhaps it was fitting to turn to her at a time such as this.

She hurried in the fading light to the edge of the village and slipped out through the northern gate,
then up the pathway that led to Teti's house. Feeling breathless with nerves, she knocked on the
rekhet
's door.

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.'