Orphan of the Sun (19 page)

‘Come, come. A pinch is nothing. Let me soothe you,' laughed Userkaf, ignoring the glares of his wife.

‘No!' The dancer shrieked again, and made a dash across the room.

Userkaf dived after her amidst a gale of laughter, and his group of friends cheered him on. But not everyone was amused. Ahmose, one of Dedi's brothers, stepped forward and barred the draughtsman's path.

‘Let her go,' he said quietly. ‘She is not for your pleasure. She has been hired by my father to dance.'

Instantly, Userkaf squared up to him. ‘Not for my pleasure!'

‘Leave it, Userkaf.' Ahmose's voice was firm.

Userkaf gave him a shove. ‘Like father, like son!' he exclaimed, with a drunken leer. ‘What d'you all think to that!
Not for my pleasure!'

He shoved Ahmose again, and a shout went up around the room. Meryt looked around quickly. Nebnufer and Wab were not at their seats, but Neben-Maat rose and tried to steer Userkaf off.

But the draughtsman's blood was running high. He pushed Neben away and rallied his friends. ‘We come to Nebnufer's party to be insulted by his sons!' he cried. ‘Are we going to take such treatment?'

Those closest to him were spoiling for a fight. ‘No!' they chorused, their eyes glittering, and Meryt scrambled to her feet in alarm. The situation was getting out of hand. Nebnufer's sons lined up and Userkaf threw a punch. In seconds, the men in the room were at each other – some throwing themselves into the action, others pulling them off, and the women screaming at them all around.

‘
Stop at once!'
Nebnufer's voice resounded across the room, and the guests turned to face him – some guiltily, some furiously, and all in shock that the foreman could bellow so loud. ‘I
will not
have my house turned into a common brawling place! Who started this?'

There was a pause. The guests looked around, some with flushed cheeks and defiance, others with shame. Dedi and Meryt stood side by side, their mouths open.

Then Dedi stepped forward. ‘It was Userkaf, Father,' she said timidly, but her eyes flashed in anger all the same.

‘Is this true?'

There was a murmur of agreement around the room.

Nebnufer turned to the draughtsman. ‘Get out. You and all your friends. Get
out
!
'

He spat out the words in rage, and there was no doubting that he meant it. Meryt thought she had never seen anyone speak with quite such power and anger. One by one, Userkaf's friends moved towards the door, their heads bowed in shame. Userkaf grabbed his wife's arm roughly and steered her towards the door.

There, before walking out, he turned around and pointed a finger at Nebnufer. ‘Look at you,' he sneered. ‘Standing there with all your little servants and your filthy roasted pig. You think you can tell me what to do, but I'll prove you wrong. You wait and see. One day I'll prove you wrong!'

And then he left, banging the door behind him.

Chapter Nine

There was a hush throughout the room once they had left. Nebnufer said nothing else. He stormed out and went up to the roof with Wab. His sons followed him. Meryt looked around. The servants were beginning to discreetly tidy up, so she joined in, glad of something to do. Dedi had disappeared, no doubt with Neben-Maat, and the last of the guests began to drift away.

Everything was piled into the courtyard to be cleaned in the morning, and the servants disappeared into the night. Meryt found a lamp and, wandering through the house, found that the little back room that she was sharing with Dedi was empty. She took off her borrowed fineries and looked around. To her relief, the linen charm was still where she had hidden it, tucked into a little crack in the mud-brick wall. She found her dress and a linen sheet and settled down in one corner, clutching the charm to her chest.

Meryt lay in the darkness with her eyes open, listening to the murmur of voices on the roof. By the sound of it, Nebnufer and his family were still
embroiled in heated discussion. She thought over the events of the evening – the hot, sweaty room, the laughing guests, the drunkenness of Userkaf. And then she thought of the painter Kha, and the cup of water that he had brought for her. She shook her head. Her instincts told her that he was a good man. Nofret's story made little sense.

When at last sleep overcame her, she began to dream. First, there was a faint image of an object – something glinting in the sunlight. She felt drawn towards it, for it was an object of great beauty, and she wanted to hold it and touch it and own it for herself. Then, as she drew closer, she saw what it was. It was the stolen
udjat
amulet that she had seen on the hillside path – but it seemed brighter and bigger, the gold pulsating with radiance and the lapis lazuli a brilliant blue. She reached out to pick it up in great excitement. But as she touched it, she yelped and drew back in pain, for the amulet was hot – so hot that the tips of her fingers were burnt and she could only watch as the gold melted before her eyes, leaving the pieces of precious lapis lazuli scattered on the ground. She reached to pick them up one by one, but each one vanished as she touched it, leaving no trace.

It grew dark and she looked up in bewilderment. The moon was shining in the sky and a man was standing on the hilltop above the village, looking down at her. It was Kha, and his face was full of sorrow. All he wore was a ragged loincloth. As she
gazed up at him, he opened his palm, and Meryt saw what he was holding. It was his painter's papyrus brush, but it was worn and tattered, a worthless object. Kha let it drop to the ground, shaking his head. Then he opened both his palms towards her, and she saw that he was holding nothing else.

The images began to blur, mingling with others in a confused jumble of colours and faces. But when Meryt awoke, the faint light of dawn was already filtering into the room, and the dream of Kha and the amulet was as clear as ever. With a sinking sense of dread, she knew that once again, her dreams had shown her more than she wished to know.

Meryt rose and found a little linen pouch in the courtyard. She placed the linen charm inside, then sat toying with it, her mind in turmoil. She knew she had to return to Teti's house to collect the balm for Baki, and the sooner the better – even if she had no idea how to deliver it. But she was terrified that the
rekhet
might begin to question her further. What if she asked about Meryt's dreams? She did not want to admit that there were more than the one she had described. Now, she had dreamt not only about Ramose, her father and her cousin, but about the matters which lay at the heart of the village affairs. Could she hide this from Teti, or would the
rekhet
see straight through her? If it was a gift, it was one she had not asked for.

But all the while, Baki lay sick in Senmut's house, and she could not refuse to help him. With great
reluctance, Meryt padded out of the house and made her way in the early morning light to Teti's house.

‘Meryt! I was expecting you yesterday,' said Teti at once, when she opened the door.

Meryt hung her head. ‘I know,' she said, feeling wretched. ‘I … I had to help my friend's family. They have been good to me. I …'

‘Never mind.' The
rekhet
's voice was urgent. ‘Come in. I have the balm ready for you in the courtyard. You must not delay – your cousin's life hangs in the balance and may not last much longer.'

The words jolted through Meryt like the sting of a scorpion. ‘How do you know?' she asked. She followed Teti inside.

‘This is the way of his illness,' said Teti, over her shoulder. ‘Though the spell will have done some good, at least.'

Meryt felt tongue-tied. She knew she should confess that Senmut had refused to accept the charm, but her courage failed her. As Teti handed her a little pot, she averted her eyes. ‘Thank you,' she muttered, shoving the pot into her linen pouch. ‘I will go to my home right away.'

Teti nodded. ‘Hurry,' she said. A smile lit up her eyes, briefly. ‘It is not yet too late.'

Meryt began to jog down the path, but once out of sight of Teti's house, she slowed to a walk. She had everything she needed to help her cousin, but the chances of her being allowed into the house were
slim. She would have to think of some other way of reaching him; there was little point in trying to calm Senmut's rage. But however hard she thought, she could not think of one. She walked slower and slower, dragging her steps and staring at her feet, wishing that the problem would just go away.

She heard a donkey's quick little footsteps coming through the gate and looked up. It was Kenna. He reined in and dismounted, his face full of concern.

‘Meryt! I've been looking for you. They tell me that you have left Senmut's house.'

‘Yes.' Meryt didn't know what else to say.

‘But why? What have you done?'

Meryt twisted the linen bag between her fingers, feeling miserable and ashamed. Kenna was so good and light-hearted; she could not bring herself to load him with her heavy burden. Besides, it might fill him with fear, and she did not want to lose his friendship.

‘Baki is sick,' she said lamely. ‘I am staying with Dedi for a few days, that's all.'

‘Why should Baki's illness drive you from the house? It makes no sense,' said Kenna, in a matter-of-fact tone.

‘Well, it's true, all the same.' Meryt hesitated. ‘Don't worry, Kenna. I'm fine.'

She began to walk forwards once more, but Kenna put a hand on her arm. ‘I am not entirely stupid,' he said quietly. ‘I hear things just as much as everyone else in this village. I know what rumours go around and I know that you are in greater trouble than you
say. Does our friendship count for nothing after all these years?'

Meryt felt tears forming and blinked them back. What good would it do to tell him the truth? There was nothing he could do to help her. Yes, he was her friend, but friends could not prevent unwanted dreams or unwanted marriages – and certainly not the shadow of death itself. He was better off not knowing, for then these things could not touch him.

‘I know you are my friend, Kenna,' she managed to say. ‘That is enough for me at the moment.'

‘Enough for you!' Kenna's voice was anguished. ‘Why will you not let me help you?'

Meryt looked at him calmly. ‘What do you think you could do?'

‘There must be something …'

Their eyes met, and Meryt wished with all her heart that life was the way it had always been – that she and Kenna were on a carefree trip to the market, hunting for scarab beetles in the dust, or playing
senet
in the shade of his courtyard. But things had changed, and nothing could take her burden from her.

But then it struck her. There
was
something that Kenna could do. It was so obvious that she couldn't believe she hadn't thought of it before. ‘Well … perhaps there is,' she said slowly. ‘It shouldn't be too difficult. You could fetch me my cousin Mose – without Senmut seeing him go.'

‘Mose? But he is just a child.'

‘He is less of a child than Baki,' said Meryt. ‘If you do this, you will truly be helping me. But whatever you do, don't let Senmut see you. I will wait here, at the gate.'

‘Is this all you will let me do?'

‘You will be doing more than you know,' Meryt assured him.

Kenna traced a pattern in the dust with his stick, his face unhappy. Then he shrugged, and sighed. ‘Well, if that is what you want, I'll do it.'

He vaulted lightly on to the donkey's back and turned back towards the village. With a sharp thwack of his stick, he pushed the creature into a canter and was off, his legs sticking out and his arms waving.

Meryt settled to wait in the shade of the village wall, watching the flow of traffic in and out. There were the usual comings and goings of the laundrymen and water-carriers, the gardeners and the bringers of wood. A pair of travelling traders approached on mules, and Meryt watched them, curious. Such people brought strange goods and strange tales. Most had travelled the length of the land and some even further, to lands she could not imagine, and told of unlikely places and even more unlikely beliefs.

The traders rode their mules sedately up to the Medjay guard at the gate. Meryt heard them being questioned, and discovered they had come from Per
Ramesses, far to the north, the city of the king's palaces. Meryt tried to imagine the splendour of it – the palaces, the gardens, the princesses and courtiers, all bedecked in the finest jewellery and gold – and wondered what the traders had come to offer and receive. She watched the guards let them pass, and caught sight of Kenna's donkey trotting through the village gate. And behind her friend, his arms around Kenna's waist, sat the little figure of Mose.

‘I'm here!' Meryt called out to them. She got to her feet, her heart full of gladness at the sight of her cousin. She suddenly realised how much she had missed him, and her face split into a grin.