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CHAPTER TWO

With the wind in its sails, the boat sailed south, against the flow of the Nile. Isis settled into the central cabin, where there were lots of comfortable cushions to sit on. It was cool, too, the wooden sides providing constant shade from the sun. While Sheri and Kia tuned their instruments and began to play some gentle melodies for Hat-Neb, a thin, serious-looking man appeared with some bottles of ointment to apply to his master’s back.

Isis and Mut played with Killer, teasing him with a piece of cloth. Time and time again the cat pounced, his eyes wild, until at last he grew bored. He sat and licked his paws, then sauntered off to stretch out on a cushion. As the afternoon wore on, everyone became drowsy. The ointment man went out on to the deck. Hat-Neb fell asleep and began snoring in one corner, so Sheri and Kia laid down their instruments. Soon they were dozing, too. Only Mut and Isis remained awake, under the watchful gaze of the fan-bearer. Mut curled up on a cushion next to Killer and stroked him.

Isis sidled over to the fan-bearer. He shifted, but said nothing. Isis took in his enormous muscles and big, wide shoulders.

‘What’s your name?’ she whispered.

The fan-bearer still said nothing.

Hat-Neb gave a particularly long, burbling snore, and Isis giggled. She was feeling mischievous. She put her face close to the Nubian’s, and looked into his dark eyes.

‘Are you allowed to laugh?’ she enquired. She scrunched up her nose with her finger. Then she put her two little fingers in her mouth and stretched it wide. The Nubian’s eyes slid away from hers, refusing to watch.

‘Oh come on,’ protested Isis. ‘It’s perfectly safe. You can talk to me.’ She glanced at Mut, but she wasn’t listening. Isis stuck her tongue out, then looped it right around until it touched the tip of her nose. ‘I bet you can’t do that,’ she said. ‘Not many people can.’

The faintest glimmer of a smile appeared on the fan-bearer’s face. Isis grinned. She was getting through to him!

‘My name’s Isis,’ she told him. ‘Go on, tell me yours.’

The muscles of the Nubian’s cheeks began to move. Isis saw his hesitation and naughtily pinched his arm. His eyes flew wide open in protest.

‘My name is Nebo,’ he said in a deep voice. He rubbed his arm. ‘And you are very bad girl.’

‘Sorry.’ Isis giggled again. ‘It didn’t really hurt, though, did it?’

Nebo shook his head, the faint smile quivering again. ‘You are cheeky. Just like –’ he began.

‘Like who?’

The smile disappeared. Nebo looked away. ‘No one,’ he said.

But Isis was curious. ‘Tell me,’ she said. She decided to guess. ‘Do you have a little girl somewhere? I bet you do.’

The fan-bearer stiffened. He was silent for a moment.

‘Did something happen to her?’ Isis knew she should leave it, but she couldn’t resist.

Then Nebo looked directly at her and said, very quietly, ‘This not something to talk about, Isis.’

Isis looked back at him, and saw the suffering deep in his eyes. ‘Sorry,’ she said again. And this time, she meant it.

.

Hopi sat at the prow of the boat in the open-sided shelter. He had no desire to sit in the cabin with everyone else, especially after being so humiliated by the fan-bearer. Besides, it was much better out on the deck, where he could watch the crew and see the view to the riverbanks.

The crew made him curious. He would have expected an important man like Hat-Neb to employ Egypt’s best sailors, but these men looked very rough and ready. They were not even Egyptian. They were all foreigners – hired sailors from somewhere far to the north. And they clearly hadn’t been in the country long, because only their captain, Kerem, could speak Egyptian. The rest spoke a strange language that Hopi had never heard before.

The boat was gliding slowly up the river, passing palm trees and open fields, where the barley and flax swayed in the breeze. Hopi waved to farm labourers and children, laundrymen pounding linen on the rocks, and fishermen in their little papyrus boats. Sometimes, he saw evidence of crocodiles: the ripple of a snout in the shallows, or a grey-brown body basking in the sun.

‘Young Hopi! You’re sitting comfortably, I see,’ said Tutmose, appearing from across the deck. He sat down cross-legged in the shelter, wiping his hands on a piece of linen.

‘I like it better here than in the cabin.’

‘You avoid the company of others?’

Hopi hesitated. He wanted Tutmose to think well of him. ‘Not always. There is a right time for everything.’

‘Wise words,’ said Tutmose. ‘But then, you’re obviously a very wise young man.’

‘Oh, I don’t know about that,’ said Hopi.

‘A trainee priest of Serqet? Don’t be modest,’ said Tutmose. ‘Only a few are chosen for such a role. You’re one of a small elite, you must know that!’

Hopi felt a flush of pride, mixed with embarrassment. He had received very little praise in his life. Only a few weeks ago, he had been a nobody.

‘But I know very little,’ he said. ‘I am only at the beginning of my apprenticeship.’

‘But you know a fair bit about snakes, I suppose? You’ve handled them, and so on?’

‘Oh yes! Of course.’ That was the one thing that Hopi knew he was good at.

‘So, there you are!’ exclaimed Tutmose. ‘A special gift indeed. Most people shrink in terror from doing such a thing.’

‘Yes, I suppose so.’ Hopi had to agree. ‘But you’re a doctor. You must know a lot about them, too.’

Tutmose shook his head. ‘I spend all my time flattering men like Hat-Neb. I offered my services because I heard that he suffers with his back. Today I have been applying ointments to it, but there is really nothing wrong. He is the sort of man who creates imaginary ailments, but chooses to ignore any real ones.’ He shrugged dismissively. ‘I have little opportunity to learn new things. I would be glad to discover anything that you can teach me.’

Hopi could hardly believe it. A royal doctor, wanting to learn from him! It certainly made up for being treated like a criminal by Hat-Neb and his guard.

He smiled. ‘I’d be happy to, sir.’

‘And you must let me know if there is anything I can do in return.’

It was a generous offer, but Hopi could think of nothing, for the moment. ‘I certainly will do that, sir.’

They lapsed into silence. Hopi blessed his good fortune – this trip would be insufferable without Tutmose. He flushed with anger once more as he thought of how the fan-bearer had gone through his things. He wondered what the doctor would say, if he knew.

‘Perhaps you could tell me,’ he said, ‘the name of Hat-Neb’s fan-bearer?’

Tutmose looked at him quickly. ‘Hat-Neb’s . . . you mean the Nubian? Nebo?’

‘Yes. You say Nebo is his name?’

Tutmose nodded, then glanced over his shoulder to check that no one was listening. He moved a little closer. ‘Take care, young Hopi,’ he said in a low voice. ‘That guard is a dangerous man.’

‘I know,’ said Hopi.

Tutmose shuffled closer and placed a hand on Hopi’s arm. ‘Let me give you some advice, my young friend,’ he said.

Hopi nodded. ‘I’ll be happy to hear it.’

‘Make sure you keep your knowledge to yourself. The Nubian says little, but hears much. He hunts out the slightest threat to his master and squashes it like a mosquito under his thumb. Do not raise suspicion by revealing your skills.’

So Tutmose didn’t trust him, either. Hopi was glad. ‘I wasn’t going to,’ he said. ‘I’ll avoid him as much as I can.’

Tutmose sat back again, and nodded. ‘Very wise.’

.

Isis poked her head out of the cabin. She was beginning to wonder what had become of Hopi; he hadn’t joined them once since boarding the boat. In fact, he’d looked gloomy ever since Hat-Neb had first come to visit. It was time to investigate. Outside on the deck, the afternoon sunlight was becoming golden and mellow. Isis found Hopi in the shelter at the front of the boat, deep in conversation with the ointment man. He looked up as she approached.

‘Isis, have you met Tutmose?’ he asked her. ‘He’s a doctor. A royal doctor. He has worked in the king’s court.’

‘I’ve just seen him treating Hat-Neb.’ Isis sat down next to her brother to study the doctor more closely. He was thin, with long, nervous hands; his small, beady eyes were set deep into their sockets, and darted to and fro as he spoke. ‘What were you putting on Hat-Neb’s back?’ she asked. ‘Is he sick?’

Tutmose smiled – a cold, humourless smile. ‘You might say that he brings sickness on himself,’ he said.

Isis was alarmed. ‘How? What’s wrong with him?’

The doctor shook his head. ‘This is not your concern,’ he said.

‘But it is! I mean – I’d hate to think he was sick! He’s being so kind to us,’ insisted Isis. ‘Can you cure him?’

The humourless smile appeared again. ‘Of course.’

Isis stared at him. Something told her that he didn’t care whether he cured Hat-Neb or not. It made her angry. ‘So, can you cure Hopi’s limp?’ she challenged him.

Tutmose looked affronted. ‘I do not give cures for wounds that have already healed,’ he said.

‘But it hasn’t healed. Not completely,’ Isis goaded him. ‘It still hurts sometimes, doesn’t it, Hopi? And you still limp.’

Hopi glared at her. ‘My leg’s as good as it will ever get. You know that, Isis.’

Isis shrugged. ‘I would have thought a royal doctor could cure anything.’

‘I’m sure he can cure most things,’ said Hopi.

Isis met his gaze, and saw that her brother’s eyes were flashing. He was annoyed with her and she felt indignant. Hopi was supposed to be on her side. She wanted to talk to him on his own, but Tutmose showed no sign of moving. Instead, the doctor leaned forward and smiled.

‘Is that the first time you have seen a doctor at work, Isis?’ he asked, placing a bony finger on her hand.

Isis snatched her hand away. ‘Of course it isn’t,’ she said. ‘Who do you think treated Hopi?’ She had been young at the time, but she had a very clear memory of the doctors who had tended Hopi’s leg. They had been kind to treat him at all, for there had been little inheritance to pay them with.

‘Not a good memory, perhaps,’ said Tutmose.

‘No, it isn’t,’ said Isis. She wished she’d never started talking about it.

‘It was a difficult time for us both. Isis has been terrified of crocodiles ever since,’ put in Hopi.

That smile curled the doctor’s lips again. ‘Ah, now there’s an ailment I’ve never had to treat!’ he exclaimed.

Isis glared at him and scrambled back to her feet. ‘Well, Hat-Neb has treated it!’ she snapped. ‘That makes him much more of a doctor than you are, doesn’t it?’ And she spun round and flounced along the deck.

.

Hopi was astonished. He had never seen Isis behave that way. He felt embarrassed. Of course, Tutmose could have been a little more sensitive; his sister’s fear of crocodiles had been very real before the offerings to Sobek. But Isis had been rude from the start.

Tutmose raised an eyebrow. ‘Quite fiery, your little sister,’ he remarked.

‘Well, she can be,’ Hopi admitted. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll make sure she apologises right away.’ He began to get up. ‘I’ll go after her –’

Tutmose placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘No, no, there’s no need,’ he said. ‘Girls are governed by strange impulses. I have seen worse cases than this.’

Hopi settled down again, feeling torn. He didn’t want to offend this man. There seemed to be so much that they could gain from each other.

‘Well, thank you for understanding,’ he said.

‘Not at all, not at all,’ said Tutmose. He got to his feet. ‘Now, I’m just going to check my list of supplies. We will be stopping at some useful villages – places where certain herbs grow, and so on. I hope to do some stocking up. You will excuse me.’

‘Of course.’

Hopi would have liked to see what supplies he was talking about, but he didn’t feel he could ask just yet. Still, there was time. In spite of Hat-Neb and Nebo, and in spite of this strange behaviour from Isis, he was enjoying himself. He had rarely met anyone who would talk to him the way Tutmose did – apart, of course, from Menna. Few people were interested in the lives and habits of desert creatures, yet this doctor seemed to have nothing but respect for his knowledge.

He thought for a moment about Isis. He really ought to try to talk to her about the way she had spoken to Tutmose. It was too bad. But now she was in the cabin with Hat-Neb, and Hopi was reluctant to draw attention to himself. He sighed and wandered down the boat to see what else was happening. Kerem the captain was shouting orders to the team of men in charge of the big, heavy rudder-paddles. The afternoon was now well advanced, and they were guiding the boat into the shallows. It was time to go ashore.

.

On the riverbank, Hat-Neb sent Kerem with members of the crew to buy fresh poultry and fish, along with vegetables, herbs and beans from the nearby village gardens. Mats were unrolled under palm trees, and a little camp was set up for the night.

‘Now, my daughters,’ said Hat-Neb, coming up to Isis and Mut. ‘It is almost time for you to show me how well you can perform. And just to make you dance that little bit better, I have something to give to you.’ From behind his back, he produced a little casket, and opened the lid. ‘Look.’

Isis and Mut peered inside and gasped. There lay two beautiful bead collars, each with a scarab amulet embedded in the middle.

‘Are these really for us?’ asked Mut.

‘Just for you. One each. Would you like to try them on?’

Hat-Neb reached into the casket himself, and gently lifted the first collar out. It had three rows of carnelian beads, and the scarab was finely carved out of turquoise. It was exquisite.

‘Come, Isis. This one is for you,’ said Hat-Neb. He placed the collar around her neck and fastened the clasp. Isis felt the unfamiliar beadwork with her fingers and smiled. She had never owned anything so lovely in her life.

Hat-Neb did the same for Mut, then sent them off to show Sheri and Kia. The two women exclaimed in admiration as the two girls twirled around.

‘Now you must take them off and keep them very safe,’ said Kia. ‘It’s time to get ready for dancing. You can put them on again later.’

The sun set over the palm trees to the west, on the other side of the river, and fires were lit in the camp. As the crew cook prepared the food, Sheri and Kia reached for their instruments, and Isis and Mut began to dance. Isis felt a thrill of happiness and freedom as she twirled around, stepping in perfect time with Mut. Most of the parties they worked at were in people’s houses and courtyards, where there was not very much space. Here, there was the whole riverbank. They performed their best acrobatics – frontflips and backflips, several in a row; cartwheels; somersaults. With every turn, Hat-Neb roared his approval. At last they stopped, and bowed to their employer.

‘Wonderful,’ he enthused. ‘Now, let us all eat. Later, you can dance again.’

Isis sat down next to Sheri.

‘No, no, come and sit here, my daughters,’ exclaimed Hat-Neb. ‘You and Mut must eat the choicest fish and meat. I will select it for you myself.’

As Isis accepted a tender piece of goose meat, she looked across the fire and saw that Hopi was still talking to that horrible doctor. It bothered her. Couldn’t her brother see what he was really like?

Perhaps he would see, after a few days. And meanwhile, she would try not to worry. Meeting Hat-Neb was one of the best things that had ever happened to her, almost like finding the father she had lost. Maybe Hopi would come to feel the same way, in time.