Orphan of the Sun (18 page)

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.

As servants began to offer drinks, Meryt and Dedi waited in the courtyard with the hired dancers. Their turn would come later; for now, a blind harpist was entertaining the guests on his own. The dancers were lively and full of chatter, sneaking drinks from the servants and sampling some of the food. Nebnufer had slaughtered a young pig from his little farm in the valley, and the smell of roasting pork filled the air.

Meryt sat with Dedi in one corner, watching the scene. ‘You could go and join the feast,' she said to her friend.

Dedi smiled. ‘I will join it later, with Neben-Maat,' she replied. ‘For now I am happy to stay out here with you. Let my brothers do the hard work of talking to everyone. It will be more fun once the
guests have drunk a few glasses of wine.'

Meryt felt grateful, for Dedi had gone out of her way to make her feel comfortable. She caressed the lyre on her knee, and when Wab at last beckoned them into the house, she realised she was looking forward to playing it.

The room was hot, and the heady perfume that everyone wore on their heads mingled with the smell of sweat and rich food. From the look on many people's faces and the raucous cheer that went up as they entered, Meryt guessed that the wine had been flowing freely. She glanced around quickly, trying to spot the people she knew. Userkaf had positioned himself opposite Nebnufer, and already had a boisterous air. She looked for Kha. The painter sat in one corner with his wife, looking amused, but also slightly detached from the rest of the room. Meryt frowned in puzzlement. He was very different from the man she had imagined.

At a nod from Wab, Meryt began to play. The room fell quiet, and she was glad that she had started with the easiest tune. As the melody progressed, Dedi joined in with the sistrum, keeping up a regular rhythm, and the hired dancers swayed in time to the music. Soon, the room was alive with chatter once more, and Meryt relaxed. The party was fun. As she came to the end of the first tune, everyone clamoured for more, and she grinned. Her fingers flew as she plucked at the lyre, and time seemed to fly just as fast.

Eventually they took a break, and went out to the courtyard to breathe in the cool night air. Other people had gathered there too, escaping the confines of the middle room as the evening progressed.

‘Can I get you something to drink?' said a voice, and Meryt turned round in surprise. It was Kha, and she looked at him warily. ‘You must be thirsty, that's all,' he carried on. ‘I was watching you. You are talented, you know.'

Meryt felt embarrassed. ‘Thank you,' she mumbled. ‘Water is all I need.'

‘I will fetch some for you,' said the painter. ‘Stay here.'

He was only gone a few minutes. He handed Meryt a cup, bowed politely, and disappeared. She gulped the water gratefully, feeling bemused. Could this really be the man that Nofret described?

‘Meryt, we need to start again,' said Dedi at her shoulder. ‘Neben has arrived. He wants to hear us play.'

Meryt followed her friend back into the main room. It bore little resemblance to the civilised gathering of a few hours before. People stood and sat where they pleased. One of the wives had drunk too much wine and was being comforted by others in a corner. Userkaf was telling a story, surrounded by a group of his friends. Meryt scanned the room for Kha, but he was nowhere to be seen, so she sat down and started to play once more.

This time there was no hush. The dancers gyrated
all around the room from one group to another. Nebnufer called out for more wine. Neben-Maat sat down next to Dedi and caressed her legs as she shook the sistrum. The room was full of shrieks and laughter and Meryt barely knew what she played.

And then one of the shrieks seemed louder. Meryt looked up in surprise, and her fingers ceased. Everyone turned to one corner, where a dancer stood in fury, her face now streaked with tears.

‘He pinched me! He pinched me really
hard
–' She was clearly furious, and pointed a shaking finger at Userkaf.