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CHAPTER THREE

Isis woke up with a start. Something had disturbed her, outside the light fabric shelter where she and Mut lay with Sheri and Kia. She sat up and listened. Perhaps it was nothing, just the breeze in the palm trees. But she was about to lie down again when she saw a human shape, silhouetted against the fabric by the moonlight. There was definitely someone there.

Her heart thudding a little faster, Isis got to her feet and tiptoed outside. The palm trees rustled and swayed, and she slipped behind one of the straight, tall trunks.

The camp was silent, so quiet that Isis could hear the lap-lap of the River Nile against the banks. She peered out from around the tree. Next to their shelter were two smaller ones for Tutmose and Hopi, and then, slightly apart, was a bigger shelter for Hat-Neb. Some of the crew stood guard around it, dozing, while the solid form of Nebo lay across the entrance.

She began to think she must have imagined the shadow. The night air was cool, giving her goosepimples, and she decided to head back to bed. Then something caught her eye, down towards the river. Hurriedly, she ducked back behind the trunk and watched.

It was Tutmose, creeping stealthily from the direction of the boat.

Huh, thought Isis. She wasn’t surprised. Who else would be creeping around suspiciously late at night? He was carrying something long and thin. Isis stared, trying to make out what it was. Tutmose turned it slightly, so that she saw it more fully. It was Hat-Neb’s ostrich-feather fan.

Silently, Tutmose stepped inside his shelter and disappeared. Isis stood rooted to the spot for a few seconds. Was Hopi awake? Did he know about the strange behaviour of his ‘friend’, the doctor? She pursed her lips. She’d known there was something slippery about him. She went back to bed, her mind made up. In the morning, she’d warn her brother – first thing.

Not long after dawn, Isis crept outside to see the boat crew already bustling about, preparing breakfast and carrying things back down to the riverside. Mut was still fast asleep. Now, she decided, was her chance to speak to Hopi. She pulled on her linen gown and ran to the back of her brother’s shelter. Peeping underneath the fabric, she saw that Hopi was still asleep. She wriggled inside.

‘Hopi!’ She shook her brother’s shoulder.

‘Wh-what?’ he mumbled sleepily.

‘Wake up. I need to speak to you.’

Hopi rolled over and opened his eyes. ‘Isis.’ He frowned, and closed his eyes again.

She sat down next to him. ‘Hopi, you have to listen to me,’ she said urgently. ‘You must be careful. I know Tutmose is up to something. I know he is . . . are you listening to me?’ She shook his shoulder again.

‘Stop it!’ Hopi shrugged her off irritably. He sat up and wiped his hand over his face. Isis waited for a moment, letting him get his bearings. ‘So. What is it?’ he asked eventually.

‘It’s Tutmose. He creeps around the camp at night, stealing things from the boat – things belonging to Hat-Neb. I saw him carrying his fan, you know, the one that Nebo carries! He’s horrible, Hopi –’

‘Don’t be stupid, Isis. You don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Hopi cut her short. He flung off his covers and stood up. ‘I don’t know what’s happened to you. Yesterday you were very rude to Tutmose. You didn’t apologise and then you didn’t speak to me all evening. So what’s going on?’

Isis felt a pang of shame. ‘I’m sorry about that,’ she said. ‘I was busy with Hat-Neb.’

‘Hat-Neb, Hat-Neb!’ exclaimed Hopi. ‘You think he’s wonderful, don’t you? All he does is flatter you and give you things, and try to make you believe he’s so very, very nice –’

‘Well, he is.’

‘No, he isn’t.’

Isis was shocked. How could her brother say such a thing? ‘He’s one of the nicest people I’ve ever met!’ she declared. ‘He says I’m just like a daughter to him.’

‘Isis!’ Hopi sounded really angry. ‘You’ve only just met this man. He is not your father. He is nothing like your father. Don’t you ever, ever dare say that again.’

‘But he protects me and cares for me,’ pouted Isis. She was upset. Why couldn’t Hopi see how good Hat-Neb was? ‘And he’s cured my fear of crocodiles.’

Hopi opened his mouth to say something, then snapped it shut again. He ran a hand through his hair. Then he stood in front of Isis and placed his hands on his hips. ‘Hat-Neb is rich, it is true. But only Sobek himself could have cured your fear,’ he said. ‘And I don’t want to hear any more of this nonsense about Tutmose. He’s a doctor, with important work to do.’

‘But I saw him –’

Hopi swept his hand around the shelter. ‘Think, Isis. We’re in the middle of nowhere. This shelter, and your shelter, and the shelter that Tutmose slept in are all going back on to the boat. There will be nothing left on the riverbank. So how can he possibly have stolen something? He’d have to take it straight back on to the boat again, wouldn’t he?’

Isis didn’t know what to say. Hopi’s words made sense. She hated arguing with him, but she couldn’t agree with him over Hat-Neb. And even if Tutmose hadn’t been stealing, she still thought that what she had seen was very strange.

.

Hopi watched as Hat-Neb strode up and down the deck, giving Kerem his orders. As usual, Nebo stood just behind him, holding the ostrich-feather fan firmly in his grip. A fan was a magical object, a symbol of life-giving breath. Hopi smiled to himself. Hat-Neb’s fan was still very much where it should be. Isis must have been imagining things.

The wind that usually blew from the north was dropping. The crew clambered around the sails, but it was no use. The boat was drifting slowly to a halt. Hat-Neb was annoyed, but this wasn’t a rowing boat. The crew had only one option – to steer the boat to the shore, and wait for the wind to pick up again.

Hopi was pleased. He knew the ways of the wind very well. It would stay calm through the heat of the day, and only get breezy again later in the afternoon. He had time to explore on his own, as he did when he was at home. This was a deserted stretch of river. Beyond a narrow strip of green, there was nothing but yellow rocks and sand: the perfect hunting ground for snakes. So, once on the shore, he slipped away, and began to climb a low, barren hill. From there, he would be able to survey all around.

The midday sun was hot. Noises carried on the still air, and Hopi could hear the shouts of the crew setting up shelters as he reached the brow of the hill. He turned to view the scene. The River Nile shimmered, a thick ribbon of calm, deep blue as far as he could see. It was unusually empty, as there were no villages nearby. Hat-Neb’s boat was alone.

Hopi set off again, scanning the ground for telltale signs of life. Patches of sand drifted up against the rocks, and he looked at these particularly carefully. Eventually, he spotted what he’d hoped for: the squiggly track of a snake, repeated time and again as it sidewinded its way across the sand. He bent over to inspect it more closely. It was fresh. He could see the impression of the whole body, and knew at once that it was the trail of a horned viper.

He followed the trail until it disappeared, seemingly into nowhere. Then he squatted, quiet and still, as he often did, letting himself become part of the landscape. Beads of sweat began to run down his face, but he didn’t move a muscle. A fly buzzed around his head. He ignored it. The only parts of him that moved were his eyes, which roved over the sand.

At last, his patience was rewarded. His eyes rested on two tiny horns, perfectly camouflaged. The horned viper preferred to hunt at night, when it was cooler; during the day, it buried itself, leaving just these little horns showing. Hopi gripped his stick tighter. Then, with a lightning move of his wrist, he flicked the stick so that its fork landed just behind the horns, pinning the viper down. The whole of its body emerged from the sand at once, thrashing in protest. It was a beauty. Grinning in delight, Hopi scrambled to his feet. With his free hand he opened his papyrus basket, and whipped the snake into it. Quickly, he fitted the lid.

Brushing himself down, Hopi wondered how long he had been gone. He squinted up at the sun and saw that it had begun to move to the west. He should hurry. He hitched the bag on to his shoulder and set off, feeling very proud of himself. This would be the perfect start to explaining his work to Tutmose. He had walked further than he thought, and began to half-run, half-limp, worried that the boat might leave without him. The river came into view, and Hat-Neb’s little camp, still resting on the riverbank. Hopi stopped. Hat-Neb’s boat was no longer alone. There was another, advancing from the south. And it was huge.

The massive wooden barge was laden with a great stone obelisk of pure granite that looked golden in the light of the sun, and a row of solid limestone blocks. It was so big that it had to be pulled along by a tug boat manned by twelve strong rowers. Hopi watched it advance slowly, surely up the river. He shaded his eyes from the sun and peered at the rowers. Was he imagining it, or was the barge slowing down?

He hurried on. Some of Hat-Neb’s crew were standing on the riverbank, watching the rowers. There was no doubt about it now. The rowers were pulling in, tugging the massive barge after them. They were going to stop. Excited, Hopi began to limp as fast as he could towards the shore.

.

Isis heard shouts. The Nubian leaped to his feet, followed by Tutmose. Hat-Neb awoke from his slumber and sat up. Isis ran to join Nebo and the doctor at the entrance of the shelter, but Nebo’s heavy hand stopped her from going outside. She could just see Kerem, calling out to members of the crew.

‘Is it pirates?’ demanded Hat-Neb, still half asleep on some cushions.

‘No, master,’ said Nebo. ‘A barge crew.’

‘A barge crew!’ Hat-Neb sat up, fully alert. ‘What’s their cargo?’

‘A consignment of stone from the quarries of the south, by the looks of it,’ said Tutmose. ‘An obelisk, and about twenty blocks.’

Hat-Neb slumped back down again and closed his eyes. ‘Well, they won’t be able to stop,’ he murmured. ‘What are the crew getting excited about?’

‘Actually,’ said Tutmose, ‘they are stopping. It would seem they have recognised the insignia on your boat.’

Hat-Neb’s eyes flew open again. He stared at Nebo. Then, with a great deal of effort, he got to his feet.

‘You must leave,’ said Tutmose. ‘At once. I will go and talk to them.’

‘No,’ growled Nebo. ‘I go.’

Isis stared at the three men. Mut joined her and they held hands, frightened and bewildered. Sheri and Kia rose from their cushions and put their arms around the girls.

‘If you go to meet them, you will make it worse,’ insisted Tutmose. ‘I will speak to them. I will tell them you are not on board. Take the women and children, and hide in the desert until they have gone.’

Isis was baffled. Who were these men? And why should Hat-Neb have to hide from them? Then her thoughts flew to Hopi. She’d seen him walking up the hill. She hoped he wouldn’t get muddled up with all of this.

Nebo was clearly furious. ‘This is my work. The crew – they will do nothing.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. You’re wasting time. The crew have a great deal to lose and they will do as I say.’ Tutmose peered out of the tent. ‘Hurry. They are coming ashore.’

Hat-Neb was sweating. ‘He’s right,’ he muttered. ‘Come, Nebo. We must go.’

The Nubian hesitated for only a second longer. As more shouts reached their ears, he turned to the women, his face still clouded with anger.

‘You follow me,’ he said, ushering Hat-Neb through a gap in the back of the tent, through a small clump of doum palms and away from the sounds of shouting.

He marched quickly, glancing back to check that everyone was keeping up. Hat-Neb puffed and panted, his arms flapping by the sides of his flabby body.

They reached the edge of the vegetation, but the Nubian kept walking, out into the scorching desert. The sun was beating down, the rocks shimmering with heat. Eventually, he stopped behind some yellow boulders.

‘We stay here,’ instructed Nebo.

There was a little bit of shade behind the biggest rock, and Hat-Neb flopped against it in relief.

‘Oh! By Amun, I can’t walk any further!’ he exclaimed. His eyeliner was smudged, making black circles under his eyes, and sweat was streaked down his face. Sweat had soaked through his beautiful linen gown so that the pleats had almost disappeared. He leaned his head back against the rock and closed his eyes. ‘Where’s my fan?’ he murmured. ‘I need my fan.’

But Nebo ignored him. He had walked around the rocks to stare back the way they had come.

Isis crept to join him. ‘Who are those men?’ she whispered. ‘You wanted to fight them yourself, didn’t you?’

Nebo looked down at her briefly. ‘I like to fight,’ he said.

‘You like it?’

Nebo didn’t respond. He stood perfectly still, listening. They could hear shouts in the distance, but they didn’t seem to be getting any closer.

‘When I am fighting, I am not thinking,’ said the Nubian eventually, placing his hand on her shoulder.

‘And that’s why you like it?’

Nebo shrugged. ‘Yes.’

Isis thought about it. ‘Perhaps it’s the same when I dance,’ she said. ‘Then I don’t think about anything. I just am.’

‘Then you understand this.’

‘I think so.’ Isis nodded gravely. ‘You won’t let those men hurt us, will you?’

Nebo’s grip on her shoulder tightened. ‘I am very strong, Isis. I keep you safe.’

Isis leaned against him. He felt solid, as though nothing could make him falter. And she believed him. Nothing could happen while he was guarding them. She just hoped that Hopi was not in danger, either.