The Amulet of Amon-Ra (4 page)

“If, by effort, you mean that half the night you were lazing on your boat while your nets drifted in the river, I believe you,” said Meryt-Re. “You are only trying to get as many of my cakes as you can. Two.”

“It is the god's own truth that these perch are worth the gold found in the tombs of the pharaohs. Four cakes.”

Meryt-Re pursed her lips, then sighed dramatically as she laid the fish back in its basket. “Well, if that is the way it is to be, I will have to look elsewhere.” She turned to go.

“Wait! Wait, Meryt-Re,” said Seneb, as he reached behind himself, digging in a small basket at his back. He showed a slightly larger, fresher-looking fish to Meryt-Re.

“Saving the best for yourself, Seneb?” she asked.

“Had you but asked, I would have offered it earlier,” he said in an oily voice.

“Hm,” said Meryt-Re. “Well, that is certainly better quality. I'll take it.”

Seneb held it back as she reached for it. “Three cakes,” he said.

Meryt-Re grimaced, then nodded. “Done.” Seneb passed the fish to her. “Dje-Nefer?”

“What?” said Jennifer.

“Take the fish,” said Meryt-Re.

“Oh. Right,” said Jennifer. She slid two fingers under the gills, as she had seen Meryt-Re do, grimacing at the slimy feel, and almost dropped it. It landed in her basket with a plop. Jennifer wiggled her dirty fingers and wondered where to wipe them. Not her dress—it would smell bad all day. She finally settled on using a corner of Seneb's tent fabric.

Meanwhile, Meryt-Re had lifted her basket for Seneb to select his cakes. They were all the same, as far as Jennifer could see, but Seneb took his time to find the three biggest ones. Jennifer half-expected him to try to sneak another, but Meryt-Re was watching too closely.

Meryt-Re scowled and shook her head as they left Seneb's booth, but once out of his sight, her expression cleared.

“That old pirate. I could have gotten him down to two. But this is a very good fish, so I do not begrudge him the extra cake,” said Meryt-Re. “I just hope Ka-Aper is satisfied with simple fare. As a high priest, he must be used to eating at the palace, and I doubt if they eat fish very often. Let us see if we can also find a duck. It has been a long time since your father tasted one.”

Meryt-Re next headed towards a booth hung with the bodies of birds. Some were ducks, but other, smaller ones, were birds that Jennifer couldn't identify. They smelled bad, too, but not nearly as awful as Seneb and his fish.

Jennifer kept silent as Meryt-Re showed the papyrus that Neferhotep had given her to the bird vendor. After what seemed like a very heated argument, he finally accepted it and gave Meryt-Re a smallish duck in return. Meryt-Re dropped the duck into Jennifer's basket.

The bird-seller hung his head as they left, but when Jennifer glanced back, he was already smiling at his next customer.

A man pushed past her, and she stumbled, nearly dropping the basket. Meryt-Re pulled her away from him and his plodding donkey, both of them laden with clattering clay pots. Three short-legged, pointy-eared brown dogs yapped and bounced after him, nipping at the donkey's legs.

“Careful, Dje-Nefer,” said Meryt-Re. “We made good bargains, but I don't have enough cakes, nor another of Neferhotep's papyri if we lost them. Come . . .”

“Dje-Nefer! Dje-Nefer!”

A young girl with frizzy black hair and a heart-shaped, delicate face came hurtling out of the crowd to fling one arm around Jennifer's neck. “Dje-Nefer! Your father said you would be here, and here you are. I'm so glad I found you. Do you like my new necklace? Mother says I can get new earrings, too. She's looking at some now. Oh! I love your scarab! Did your father make it? It's beautiful. I wish I had something like that. What did you get? Can I see? Oh, a duck! We had one last night, and it was bigger than this, but mother didn't like it. She says you just can't get good food right now. Are you having a special dinner?”

The girl paused for breath.

“Hello, Tetisheri,” said Meryt-Re, slipping the words into the brief silence.

“Greetings of the day, Meryt-Re,” said Tetisheri, bowing. She grinned at Jennifer, slipping her arm down around Jennifer's waist. “Will you be much longer? What else do you have to get?”

Jennifer opened her mouth to reply. She didn't want to say that she didn't know, but it didn't make any difference anyway. Tetisheri plowed on without waiting for an answer. Jennifer glanced at Meryt-Re, who was smiling and nodding, although she didn't really look like she was listening to the flood of words from Tetisheri.

“Isn't it late to be shopping?” asked Tetisheri, as usual, not waiting for an answer. “My mother sends our servants to shop for food in the morning, although she says she can't trust them to get the best. Look, a lot of the booths are closing for their afternoon naps. We should too. Always sleep when the sun is high, my mother says.”

“I wish we could,” said Meryt-Re. “No nap for us today. We have some cooking to do.”

“Cooking! It will be so hot,” said Tetisheri. “My mother always tells our cook to work in the mornings.”

“We have no choice. The priest Ka-Aper is coming to dine with us this evening and we must prepare the meal,” said Meryt-Re.

Tetisheri gasped. “Ka-Aper? Really? My father talks about him all the time.”

“I suppose he would,” said Meryt-Re. “Would you like to join us for the meal?”

Tetisheri squealed with delight. “Oh, may I? My parents are dining out tonight, and I will only have the servants as companions. Thank you!” And she dashed away, back in the direction she had come.

“We eat at sunset!” Meryt-Re shouted at her retreating back. Then she chuckled. “That girl. I am glad you and she get along so well. That will make it easier when she and Mentmose are married.”

“Married!” said Jennifer, startled. Why, Tetisheri couldn't be much older than Jennifer!

“Oh, don't look so put out,” said Meryt-Re. “You know they won't be wed for a few years yet. You still have time for girlish things.” She looked speculatively at Jennifer. “But I suppose we ought to think of betrothing you again soon.”

“Me?” said Jennifer, even more startled.

“Yes, you. It's such a shame that the boy we had chosen for you died when you were both toddlers. I remember you used to dress up in one of my old outfits and pretend you were getting married. You cried when we told you he had died of his sickness. He was such a nice boy. Ah, well. At least Mentmose's betrothed is healthy and pleasant. If a little chatty.”

“Just a little,” Jennifer muttered.

“We have a few more things to get,” said Meryt-Re, “and, as Tetisheri reminded us, it is getting late.”

Jennifer kept tight hold of her basket as they made their way down a winding path made by the food vendors, stopping here and there to buy small items. The bargaining for these went more swiftly, while Meryt-Re kept an eye on the sun. Soon, Jennifer had a chunk of soft white cheese, some small onions, a handful of almonds, a woven string of dates and a big cloth bag of beans in her basket, as well as the bag of polishing powder that Ramose had requested. Meryt-Re's supply of cakes steadily lowered. By far the most expensive item was a tiny pot of honey, which she bargained for with several of the cakes.

Meryt-Re stowed the honey carefully in her now-empty basket, and relieved Jennifer of some of her items. Jennifer was glad, for her basket was getting very heavy.

They wound their way back through the market, dodging other late shoppers intent on their own errands. The sun was high overhead when they left. Many of the vendors had shut their curtains or thrown sheets over their wares. Although the road was still crowded, most people, it seemed, deserted the streets when it got too hot. Jennifer could understand why. She hoped that Mentmose had been able to get the water jug filled, so she could have a drink.

A woman jostled Jennifer, and she gripped the basket handle tighter. The woman mumbled an apology as she glanced over her shoulder and moved towards the side of the street. The rest of the people were also getting out of the way. Pinned up against the wall by the press of bodies, Jennifer could just barely see what had caused the commotion. Two armed men pushed people aside to clear space for a bald man wearing a leopard skin over one shoulder. The man's kilt had several complicated pleats and fell nearly to his ankles. He was walking under a striped canopy held up by four boys.

As he passed, some people bowed their heads in greeting, or perhaps salute. Jennifer wasn't sure which. The man ignored them.

But as he passed Jennifer, he glanced her way.

Even though she was almost melting in the heat, Jennifer shivered. For a brief moment, as their gazes met, she felt like a mouse being eyed by a snake.

“Dje-Nefer?” Meryt-Re called. “Oh, there you are.”

“I'm coming,” said Jennifer, tearing her gaze away from the striped canopy. “Sorry.”

Who had that man been? She couldn't resist taking one last peek, but he was gone. She could just see the heels of one of the boys disappearing around a corner.

“Come on,” said Meryt-Re, leading her back into the middle of the street. Jennifer looked up at the buildings they were passing. They didn't seem to be the same ones they had passed on the way to the market. Perhaps Meryt-Re had decided to take a different route home.

Meryt-Re led her around some tall stone columns, their every surface covered with hieroglyphs. Carvings in the stone were painted with bright blues, reds, and oranges. Jennifer stared up and up, to the very tops of the columns, which were capped with rounded blocks. Beyond them, a bird circled high above in the cloudless blue sky. Jennifer's eyes watered in the glare from the sun.

“Whatever are you gawking at, Dje-Nefer?” asked Meryt-Re. “You act like you've never seen these before.”

Jennifer's head snapped down. “I, uh, thought I saw a hawk.”

“A hawk? That's a good omen,” said Meryt-Re. “Come along now, and mind you don't stumble. There are rough stones here.”

Meryt-re turned a corner, and Jennifer dutifully followed, her gaze focused on the ground. She raised her eyes for a moment and stopped dead.

Before them was a ribbon of shining dark water, glittering in the sun. A wide stretch of black mud led down to it on either side. On the far bank, a few palm trees dotted the edge. Beyond that, the desert spread out over the land, rising in high, soft dunes of pinkish-brown sand. Farther away, the dunes flowed up against walls of craggy ivory stone that jutted into the sky.

“Great Hapi must be very sad,” said Meryt-Re, shaking her head. “The Nile is so low.”

The Nile! Jennifer grinned. The source of life and water for all of Egypt.

“I have never seen the river so depleted,” Meryt-Re continued. “The canals are down to a mere trickle. Look, you can see it has gotten even lower since just a week ago. The nilometer isn't even in the water anymore.”

Nearby, a man was cursing and struggling to push his reed boat away from the shore, where it was stuck fast. He swore again as he bumped against a spindly wooden structure with a sling tied to one end of a long pole. The sling lay flat on the ground, well away from the water.

Meryt-Re was eyeing it, too. “It will be harder to get water without the use of the shaduf,” she said. Her voice lowered. “Seven years, we've had this drought. The Nile's annual flood has been sickly, hardly raising the level at all. I fear that not just Hapi, but perhaps all the gods, are not pleased with our Pharaoh, may Ma'at guide her soul.”

Jennifer's head came up.

“Her?” she blurted. “Pharaoh” meant King, never Queen. All the Pharaohs had been male—except one. Could it be?

“Yes,” said Meryt-Re, giving Jennifer a small frown. “Her Majesty Hatshepsut must surely be worried. The drought has all but emptied our country's grain storehouses.”

Jennifer nodded, and tried not to smile. Hatshepsut! The famous female Pharaoh. She had taken the throne after her half-brother, Thutmose II, had died when his only son was just a baby. Despite the fact that only men could call themselves Pharaohs, she had taken the title. If the stories could be believed, she had even worn men's clothing and a Pharaoh's false beard.

Meryt-Re suddenly grabbed Jennifer and ran to the side of the road. Jennifer peered around her trying to see what was coming this time. Another sedan chair? She glanced at Meryt-Re, who stood rigid beside her, her lips compressed into a thin line, although her face was carefully blank.

A group of about twenty men wearing brilliant white kilts and shiny bronze helmets marched by. Their leader glowered at Jennifer and Meryt-Re as he shouted out the rhythm. Some of the men carried short swords and large painted shields; others had bows and quivers full of arrows slung over their shoulders. They passed in a jingle of weapons and the slap of sandals on the stones. Behind them, a man and a woman, their hands tied, stumbled along at the end of a rope. One of the soldiers tugged on it, making the woman cry out in pain as the rope dug into her wrists.

Meryt-Re watched them pass in silence. When they had all gone around the corner, she let out a long breath. “Pharaoh's soldiers,” she said.

“Who were the people behind them?” asked Jennifer.

Meryt-Re bit her lip and glanced furtively around. She answered in a quiet voice. “Probably more so-called ‘traitors' to the crown. There have been rather a lot of them lately. I must remember to watch what I say.”

“You mean like about the drought?” asked Jennifer.

“Ssh!” said Meryt-Re. “We will speak no more of it.” She walked away, basket swinging. Jennifer hurried to catch up.

Hatshepsut's restored temple had been decorated with paintings of trips to foreign lands, rather than battle scenes, like so many of the male Pharaohs had on theirs. Hatshepsut's reign had been peaceful, more concerned with trading ventures and the creation of beautiful monuments. Nothing indicated that she had needed soldiers to help enforce her reign.

Meryt-Re didn't talk again all the way back to the house. Jennifer followed her through the front door and blinked in the sudden darkness, a relief after the sunlight outside. The tiles on the floor were deliciously cool against her sore, hot feet as she padded across the room behind Meryt-Re, and into the kitchen.

“Bes protect us,” said Meryt-Re with a weary sigh. She patted the head of a small statue of a chubby dwarf, whose tongue stuck out from between his curly beard and moustache, as she passed by the kitchen shelving. “Let's hope he will make sure this evening's dinner impresses our guest, eh, little one?”

Jennifer nodded. Meryt-Re had swung her basket to the floor and was busy emptying it.

“Dje-Nefer, please check the dough. It should have risen by now,” she said.

Jennifer looked under the cloth. The dough was twice the size it had been. “I think so,” she said.

Meryt-Re took the bowl and punched the bread down again with her fists. Then she divided it in half and put both pieces on the floor, covering them again with the cloth.

“All right,” she said. “Now we can pause for a bite to eat. Are you hungry?”

Jennifer's stomach growled, and they both laughed. It had been a long time since breakfast.

“Did I hear someone mention a mid-day meal?” Ramose appeared around the corner of the kitchen, followed by Mentmose.

“No, you did not,” said Meryt-Re, smiling, “but you shall have one, nonetheless. We can eat some of the cakes that I didn't take with me this morning and some cheese and dates, but that's all. The rest I need for this evening.”

“I look forward to that,” said Ramose. “Did you—”

“Yes, Ramose, I bought a duck. Not the best of birds perhaps, but it will serve.”

“In your hands, it will dazzle,” Ramose said.

Meryt-Re rolled out the eating mat, then rapidly laid food out on a plate. She set it in the middle of the mat, along with a clay jug and four mugs. All of them sat cross-legged around it, on the floor.

The liquid that Meryt-Re poured from the jug sparkled golden as it frothed into the mugs. Thirsty, Jennifer grabbed her mug and took a big gulp, then choked and almost spit it out. Too late, she remembered that beer was the common drink of the Egyptian people.

“Has it gone bad?” asked Meryt-Re, sniffing her own. She took a sip. “It seems all right to me.”

Jennifer swallowed, wincing at the taste. “No, it's fine,” she said, her voice hoarse. “Fine. I just…took too much.”

“Drink up,” said Ramose. “It's good for you.”

Jennifer eyed him. He seemed perfectly serious. Thick and rich, the beer smelled a lot like the rising bread. All the same, she didn't think she would have any more. Feeling a little dizzy, she set the mug down.

The others had been busily stuffing themselves with the contents of the platter, especially Mentmose. Jennifer reached for a barley cake and some of the white cheese that Meryt-Re had bought in the market. Her eyebrows rose as she bit into it. It was delicious. She snatched a second piece out from under Mentmose's hovering fingers.

“Hey!” he said. “You should have better manners, minnow.”

“Speaking of manners,” said Ramose. “I expect you both to be on your best behavior this evening.”

“Of course, Father,” said Mentmose.

“I invited Tetisheri to dine with us, as well,” said Meryt-Re.

Mentmose groaned. “Oh, no. Why? She'll spoil everything.”

“Mentmose, she is your betrothed. You will marry her in a few years, and you really ought to have a better attitude about it,” said Meryt-Re. “I'm sure you will come to appreciate her.”

Mentmose snorted.

“Your mother and I were betrothed when we were babies,” said Ramose, giving Meryt-Re a fond look. “Neither of us knew what to expect, but our marriage has been good. Wonderful, in fact.” He smiled at Meryt-Re, who smiled back. “Yours will be, too. Even if Tetisheri is a bit of a ninny.”

“Ramose!” said Meryt-Re, as Mentmose choked up, laughing. “You shouldn't say such things about your future daughter-in-law.”

“Well, he's right,” said Mentmose.

From what she'd seen of Tetisheri, Jennifer could only agree.

“Nevertheless,” said Meryt-Re. “Treat her politely tonight.”

“All right,” said Mentmose, sighing.

Meryt-Re gathered up the empty plate and the mugs, including Jennifer's half-full one. “Did you want this?”

Jennifer shook her head. Meryt-Re shrugged, then poured it back in the jug.

“Now we must get to work on this meal,” she said, wiping her hands on a cloth. “I'll need you to turn the spit for the duck, Mentmose. Mind you remember to turn it at a constant speed. We don't want burnt meat on one side and raw on the other. Dje-Nefer, you can prepare the vegetables.”

At least that was something she knew how to do. Meryt-Re rummaged on the shelves and handed Jennifer a bronze knife.

The rest of the afternoon went by in a blur. Meryt-Re took the risen dough and threw it into the hot ceramic ovens she had wedged into the fire earlier. The dough began to sizzle even before she slapped lids on the pots. As Jennifer chopped a small mound of onions and white roots, Meryt-Re flitted from one task to another. First she plucked the duck, nearly burying herself in a blizzard of feathers. Then she gutted it neatly. Jennifer was glad she hadn't been stuck with that messy job. She cleaned the fish as well, which was even worse, in Jennifer's opinion. The fish guts that she threw into a clay pot stank up the whole kitchen, and Mentmose was sent scurrying upstairs with it. Jennifer spotted him through the hole in the kitchen roof, pouring the slimy mess into a lidded container in the garden.

When he returned, he was set to sliding the duck on a metal pole. He propped it in the middle of the fireplace on two tall tripods.

“Grind this for me,” said Meryt-Re, handing Jennifer some grains. She copied what she had seen Meryt-Re do earlier. Hers wasn't as fine as Meryt-Re's had been, but the woman seemed satisfied enough with the result.

As Mentmose turned the spit, grease from the duck spattered on the coals, sending clouds of gray smoke up through the skylight. While Meryt-Re filled the fish with a mixture of green herbs and patted Jennifer's crumbly flour on the outside, she had Jennifer turn the bread pots in the fire with a wooden paddle. Occasionally, Jennifer took a turn at the spit while Mentmose rested his arms. Meryt-Re threw the chopped onions and a few of the roots into a metal pan, along with a bit of grease from the duck. The mouth-watering scent of frying onions filled the kitchen. Jennifer sniffed appreciatively.

“Smells good, doesn't it?” said Meryt-Re, smiling at her. “Now take the rest of those roots and add some oil and vinegar.”

It took Jennifer a few moments to find those, but she eventually located them.

“Can I stop now, Mother?” asked Mentmose, rolling his shoulders.

Meryt-Re threw a double handful of almonds into the onion mixture and inspected the duck. Its skin was crispy and flaking.

“Yes, I think it is done,” she said. “And just as well, for it is nearly time for our guests to arrive.”

Jennifer glanced up at the skylight, surprised to see that the sun was lowering. She'd been so busy helping Meryt-Re that she hadn't noticed the time passing.

Mentmose let go of the spit with a groan and massaged his hands. Meryt-Re took the spit from Mentmose and expertly slid the duck off onto a pretty clay platter that Jennifer had found on the shelves. The fish, covered with the onion sauce, went onto another. Using the wooden paddle, Meryt-Re slid the bread out of the ovens. The crusts were burnt black, but Meryt-Re didn't seem dismayed by this. She deftly peeled them off with a sharp knife, leaving the inner cores steaming gently on a plate.