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CHAPTER TEN

The atmosphere at the harbour was uneasy. Kerem and his men had formed a circle around Sheri, Kia and Mut, who were trying hard to hide their fear. Hopi hurried up with Isis, breathless.

‘Everything is in place,’ he announced. ‘We shall all receive our payment.’

‘Hopi! That’s wonderful,’ exclaimed Sheri, rising to her feet and kissing him on the cheek.

But Kerem looked suspicious. ‘How?’ he asked. ‘You mean the crew also?’

‘Yes,’ Hopi assured him. ‘The only problem is this: we shall have to collect it ourselves.’

‘Collect it? You mean Hat-Neb has agreed to pay after all?’ Sheri sounded delighted.

‘Not exactly. It’s a bit more complicated than that.’ Hopi leaned against the broad trunk of the fig tree, nursing his weary leg.

‘He has struck a deal with Tutmose,’ announced Isis. ‘It’s very clever. We’ll all be on our way back to Waset before Hat-Neb has even woken up.’

Kia frowned. ‘What do you mean, woken up? Why is he asleep?’

‘He isn’t. Not yet. But he will be tonight. And that is when we shall collect our payment,’ said Hopi. ‘Tutmose won’t risk being caught red-handed, but he has agreed to drug Hat-Neb’s guards. I will go to Hat-Neb’s house with Isis. We shall take our payment from his stores. And then we shall leave. The crew may stay here if they wish, but we can take the dawn boat to Waset.’

‘You mean – steal from him?’ Kia sounded horrified.

‘We shall take what is rightfully ours,’ said Hopi. ‘How is that stealing?’

No one replied to that. Silence fell. Kerem turned away, and began to stride up and down. He stared out at the Nile for a while. Then he marched back, and stood in front of Hopi.

‘Why does Tutmose help us?’ he asked. ‘Why do you trust this man?’

‘I don’t trust him,’ said Hopi. ‘But I have his pouch of poisons, and he needs it back. Such poisons are difficult to come by and it would take him a long time to replace them. Anyway, he is very afraid, for we have the power to betray him.’

‘We must come with you to the house of Hat-Neb,’ said Kerem.

Hopi shook his head. He had thought it all through. ‘No. It would be better if you stay and guard the poisons. Tutmose may try to trick us, so I want to leave them here. He can come and collect them afterwards. Anyway, only Isis will enter the house.’

‘Isis! No!’ said Sheri. ‘I can’t allow it! Hopi, she could be killed! How can you even think of such a thing?’

Hopi looked at his sister. Going into the house alone had been her idea. She could move faster than anyone else, and silently, too. He was afraid for her, but proud at the same time.

‘It’s better this way,’ he said. ‘I will only slow her down.’

Isis nodded. ‘I know I can do it,’ she said quietly. ‘I am quick and small. I can outrun Tutmose any day.’

‘But, Isis, there may be more guards. What if they come from behind . . .’ Sheri was distraught.

‘Look around you, Sheri.’ Hopi’s voice was sharp.

The crew were growing impatient, tired of all the talking. They spoke to Kerem, and he snapped something back. Sheri and Kia looked nervously at their sharpened daggers and unkempt hair.

Isis followed their gaze. ‘You see,’ she said. ‘We have little choice.’

.

Hat-Neb’s mansion was outside the town, surrounded by a high whitewashed wall. Isis and Hopi tiptoed along a track lined with palm trees and lush vegetation. The air throbbed with the sound of crickets and croaking frogs.

‘The gate’s open,’ whispered Isis. ‘You stay here.’

Hopi stepped off the track. Isis slipped forward, keeping to the shadows. Maybe Tutmose would have set a trap for her, after all. The gate creaked, and Isis jumped. She waited, but there was nothing except the wind rustling the palm fronds. She reached the edge of the wall and began to creep forward on all fours.

Something grunted, close by. Isis froze. Another grunt, followed by a deep, whistling sigh. She breathed out in relief. It was the sound of snoring. So the guards were asleep. Isis spotted the guard just outside the gate, his head lolling against the wall. Isis swallowed. She would have to step over his legs to go through the gate. She wiped her hands on her linen dress and looked back up the track, but Hopi had melted into the darkness. She was on her own. She placed one foot on the other side of the guard’s legs and peered into the grounds.

Another guard was lying on the other side of the gate. He, too, was fast asleep. Isis pushed the gate open just enough for her slender body to slip through. The hinges squealed, and her mouth went dry. But the guards slept on, and Isis found herself inside the gardens of Hat-Neb’s magnificent house.

The gardens were beautiful. In the moonlight, Isis saw a big pond with lotus flowers floating on its surface, the water rippling gently. The scent from herbs and the blossoms of shrubs filled the air. For a second, Isis felt a pang of sadness that the man who owned all this had turned out to be so horrible.

She pushed the thought away and tiptoed down a path that led towards the house. It wound between dark bushes, and she entered the blackness with her eyes wide, straining to see. She stopped. Something was there. Someone was there, in front of her, shifting out of the shadows. Isis yelped in terror.

‘Don’t worry,’ murmured a voice. It was Tutmose.

Shaking, Isis said nothing.

The doctor moved closer, and spoke in her ear, ‘You can enter the house by the side door, on the left ahead of you. What you seek is in a room to the right along the corridor. I will wait for you outside the grounds.’

Isis found her voice. ‘Hopi is already there,’ she whispered. ‘Once I have come back out safely, we shall take you to collect your poisons.’

Tutmose melted back into the shadows, and Isis swallowed. This is it, she thought to herself, and hurried on towards the house.

Everything was as Tutmose said it would be. Isis found the door open, and slipped inside. All was silent. Isis listened, and heard the distant rhythm of Hat-Neb’s snores, somewhere above. She wondered where Nebo might be, and her courage almost failed her. But then she drove herself on. This would soon be over.

With no moonlight to help her, she groped her way along the corridor until her fingers came to a doorway on her right. She stopped to listen again. Still nothing. Holding her breath, Isis entered the cold, quiet room. Moonlight filtered through the clerestory windows that ran around the top, and she gazed on an extraordinary sight. The room was stacked with precious goods: no ornate objects of great craftsmanship, but many of the elements that were used to make them. There were open caskets of precious stones – carnelian, turquoise, jade, lapis lazuli and slabs of creamy alabaster; planks of the finest cedar propped up against the wall; on the floor, a pile of leopard skins of the sort worn by priests. Filling the air was the heavy scent of incense; Isis caught wafts of cinnamon, frankincense and myrrh, and saw a row of priceless oils and ointments. It was hard to take it all in.

Then she came to her senses. She had come for gold; that was what she must find. She stepped further into the room, bewildered. She ran her hand along the caskets of precious stones, picked up a handful of carnelian pieces, then let them drop from her fingers.

‘Perhaps I can help you.’

Isis froze, her hand still hovering over the casket of carnelian. Her heart thudded against her chest. For a second, she closed her eyes. It had happened. She had been caught.

She let her hand drop, and turned round to face Nebo. The fan-bearer stood in the doorway, his massive frame quite clear in the glimmering moonlight.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asked.

‘I . . . I came to take our payment. Ours, and that of the crew.’

‘And how did you get past the guards?’

Isis licked her lips. ‘I can’t tell you that.’

Seconds ticked past. Isis expected Nebo to reach out and grab her. She slid her eyes around the room, looking for an escape, but there was nowhere for her to go. She was trapped.

‘So what did they tell you to take?’ Nebo asked.

Isis stared at him. What difference did it make now? She shrugged. ‘Gold for the crew. That is what they were promised. We were to be paid to the value of eight debens of copper, so I was going to take a small piece of gold for us, too. If I could find some.’

‘I show you.’ Nebo pointed to a small casket in the far corner.

Isis couldn’t believe it. What was he doing? Was he playing games with her? She tried to move her feet, but they felt stuck to the floor.

‘Go!’ ordered the Nubian. ‘The gold is there!’

But Isis still couldn’t move. All she could think of was how his dagger had felt, when its cold, sharp point had touched her throat.

‘You would have killed me, on the boat,’ she said. She tried to move her feet again, and this time they obeyed. Still keeping her eyes on Nebo’s face, she moved slowly to the casket in the corner.

‘Yes,’ said Nebo. ‘I would have killed you.’

‘So why don’t you just kill me now?’ Isis put her hand on the casket and lifted the lid. She looked away from the fan-bearer to see what lay inside, and gasped. The casket was full of gold in all its forms – rough nuggets fresh from the mines, small beaten bars, strips of gold wire . . .

A heavy hand landed on her shoulder. She jumped, and looked up into Nebo’s face.

‘Do you have a bag?’ he asked.

With a trembling finger, Isis pointed to the pouch that she had slung around her waist.

‘Take what you are owed.’

Isis was bewildered, terrified. Her mouth dry, she counted out what she guessed was about the right amount of gold, and placed it in her pouch.

‘Now go.’ Nebo took his hand off her shoulder.

This wasn’t right. It had to be a trick. Isis looked up at Nebo distrustfully. ‘Why are you doing this?’ she whispered.

‘Because of . . . because, little Isis, you make me think of my . . .’ Nebo’s voice shook with emotion. He stopped himself and stood a little straighter. ‘Hat-Neb does not know you are here.’

‘But he is in the house. I heard him . . .’

Nebo said nothing. Isis came to her senses. If he was giving her a chance, she must take it. She ran a few light steps to the door. The fan-bearer did not stop her.

On the threshold, she looked back. ‘Who will take the blame, when he finds out?’

Nebo shook his head. ‘He will never find out.’

He and Isis looked at each other, and Isis understood.

‘He is dying?’

‘Yes.’

Isis knew she should have left already, but she wanted to ask one last question. ‘What will you do when he has gone?’

Almost imperceptibly, Nebo flexed his muscles, and in the pale light, Isis saw the life die in his eyes. ‘There is always work for a man who will kill anything,’ he said.

Isis felt a chill run down her spine. With a little cry, she turned away, and fled down the corridor into the night.

.

The contest was in full swing. Pairs of boys fought to overbalance each other in their little boats, while the villagers laughed and cheered. Hopi watched as one boy lost his balance and fell into the water. He surfaced, spluttering and laughing, and pulled himself back on to his wobbling craft.

‘I’d love to have a go at that, wouldn’t you?’ said Mut wistfully.

‘No thanks,’ replied Isis. ‘I don’t mind the river as much as I used to, but I don’t like it that much!’

Hopi shielded his eyes from the sun as the passenger boat moved on downriver, beyond the village games. They had passed the marshes where Isis and Mut had gone hunting, and were well on their way back to Waset. He was feeling impatient. There was so much to tell Menna – and so much to ask him, too.

But the boat was slowing down. It looked as though it was pulling in to the bank – again. Hopi sighed. Passenger boats always took for ever to get anywhere. They were laden high with people’s belongings, merchandise, even their livestock. Passengers got on and off at inconvenient places, made the boat wait for hobbling relatives or while they carried out a transaction . . .

He wondered what they were stopping for this time. Now they had passed the village, they were in the middle of nowhere. Then he noticed that a group of women at the back were shouting, pointing and hurriedly shifting their possessions. Hopi tutted. The boat must be leaking, and worse than usual.

The captain guided the long vessel towards a shallow bank, where a clump of doum palms rose up against a barren hillside. Hopi gave a start. He recognised this spot. It was exactly where they had been attacked by the barge crew.

‘Everyone out!’ called the captain cheerfully. ‘Relax for a while. I’ll soon have it fixed. Just needs a bit of plugging up.’

With a good deal of grumbling, the passengers disembarked, splashing to the shore with their goods on their shoulders, to sit in the shade of the palms. Mut, Isis and Hopi helped Sheri and Kia to carry their instruments to safety, then Hopi grabbed Isis by the hand.

‘Come with me,’ he said. ‘There’s something I want to show you.’

He began to walk up the hillside with its view of the river. Isis followed him, skipping lightly from rock to rock as they climbed. They reached the brow of the hill, and Hopi flopped on to the dry ground.

Isis sat down next to him. They surveyed the riverbank below, and the wind billowing the sail of a passing pleasure boat. Hopi was reaching for his bag when Isis spoke.

‘Hopi,’ she said, ‘there’s something I want to say.’

‘Oh?’ Hopi looked at her quickly. She sounded serious.

Isis studied her fingers. ‘It’s just that . . . you were right about Hat-Neb,’ she said. ‘And I’m sorry.’

Hopi smiled. His sister might be impulsive, but she was always very fair. ‘And Nebo?’ he asked.

Isis frowned. ‘I was wrong about him, too,’ she said. ‘But it’s funny. Some bad people have good bits, too.’

‘And the other way round,’ agreed Hopi. He sighed. ‘Well, the same goes for Tutmose. I was wrong about him.’

‘We were both wrong, and neither of us wanted to see it. It was horrible,’ said Isis. ‘And that’s what I’ve been thinking about. I never want to disagree with you again. Not like that. Never, never, never.’

Hopi grinned. ‘Maybe we won’t be able to help it.’

‘We have to help it.’ Isis sounded very determined. ‘I won’t let it happen again. Not if you won’t.’

‘Sounds fair to me,’ said Hopi.

Isis smiled. ‘Good.’

They turned their faces to the breeze for a moment, and listened to the voices drifting up from between the swaying doum palms.

‘Was this what you wanted to show me?’ asked Isis. ‘The view?’

‘Oh! No. I nearly forgot,’ said Hopi. ‘This is where I caught the horned viper. Well, not far from here.’ And he reached again for his basket.

‘You still have it!’ exclaimed Isis.

‘Of course. There hasn’t been anywhere to release it,’ said Hopi.

He lifted the lid off the papyrus basket, and placed it on its side so that the snake could escape. Together, they watched as it slithered out, testing the air with its tongue. The bulge of the rat inside it had gone down, and it moved steadily up towards a cluster of rocks.

‘Welcome home,’ murmured Hopi.

The viper passed the rocks, its tongue still flicking. It reached a patch of golden dune that stretched out to the desert beyond, and paused for a moment. Then, with deft sideways movements, it vanished beneath the sand.