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CHAPTER NINE

Menna began to pace slowly up and down the courtyard.

‘Very interesting,’ he said. ‘Well, it’s clear enough what’s happening. This man you’ve seen is a trader. He takes Abana’s grain north and brings the natron south. That way, he profits from both.’

Hopi thought it over carefully. It was all beginning to make sense. ‘So he sells the grain, then collects natron for the embalmers,’ he said. ‘So why are the embalmers going short?’

‘Trading grain – especially stolen grain – must take time,’ replied Menna. ‘To cover his tracks, Abana probably sells it in small batches. It could take several days to get rid of a whole cargo.’

Hopi frowned. ‘But if it takes so long, why doesn’t the trader hurry up? He told Weni that he wasn’t leaving until tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow? But that’s the day of the festival!’ cried Isis. ‘Everyone will be celebrating!’

‘Of course!’ exclaimed Hopi. ‘Moving a cargo of grain down to the river is a big job. But tomorrow everyone will be on the other side, on the west bank. No one will notice the grain being loaded.’

Silence fell for a moment.

‘But, Hopi, what are we going to do?’ demanded Isis. ‘Abana’s guard is looking for us right now. It won’t take him long to come back. What do you think he wants? What will he do to us?’

Hopi didn’t know what to say. Abana was powerful enough to do anything, but would he really chase after a dance troupe because they knew about his stolen grain?

‘Abana’s powerful, but he’s not stupid,’ said Menna quietly. ‘He won’t want to draw too much attention to himself. Today the king will be arriving from his palace in the north.’

‘So what did the guard come for?’ asked Hopi.

‘I imagine the plan is to buy your silence. That, at least, will be his first resort,’ said Menna. ‘He will no doubt combine it with threats.’

‘But we’d never let him bribe us!’ exclaimed Hopi.

‘Paneb might do it for Sinuhe,’ said Isis.

Hopi was horrified. ‘He couldn’t! That would mean protecting the man who’s stolen Sinuhe’s grain!’ he said.

‘Yes, but Sinuhe wants repayment,’ said Isis. ‘This could be Paneb’s way of getting it for him.’

‘We need time,’ said Menna, breaking through their discussion. ‘We must consider the best way to deal with this. Isis, you should go and give your family warning. Persuade them to resist Abana, if they can.’ He turned to Hopi. ‘Meanwhile, you and I have thinking to do.’

.

Isis ran back through the busy streets, where anticipation about the festival was growing. Women were busy trading the garlands that everyone would wear; boys were dragging great bundles of palm fronds to hand out for people to wave; girls were carrying baskets of lotus flowers and sweet-smelling herbs. The excitement was infectious, in spite of all that was happening.

We’re going to see the king, Isis thought as she ran. We’re going to see the king . . .

She arrived back at her own street and scanned it carefully for Abana’s guard. There was no sign of him as yet, so Isis dived into the house.

‘Nefert! Paneb!’ she called, heading straight for the courtyard.

There was no one there but the two young boys, playing with their toys as usual. Music floated down the stairs; practice had begun. Isis ran to the practice room on the first floor and found the three women in the middle of a melody, while Mut sat on the floor carefully unwrapping the bandage around her ankle.

‘Mut! Have you tried walking yet?’ For a second, Isis forgot what she had come for.

Mut grinned. ‘Yes, I can put my weight on it, I think,’ she said. ‘But I haven’t tried dancing yet. I want to get this thing off first.’

Isis crouched down at once to help her dance partner take off the bandage. Then she helped Mut to her feet as the three women came to the end of their piece.

Nefert looked stern. ‘Wherever have you been, Isis?’ she demanded crossly. ‘You know it’s the festival tomorrow. We’re very behind as it is.’

Suddenly, Isis realised that if anyone would stand up to Abana, Nefert would.

‘Nefert, please don’t be angry,’ she pleaded. ‘I had to go and find Hopi. One of Abana’s guards came looking for me – I saw him on the street.’

At the mention of the tax collector, Nefert’s lips tightened. ‘What did he want?’

Isis bit her lip. ‘Well, I can’t be sure. I got Yuya to send him in the wrong direction.’ She took a deep breath. ‘But Hopi found Abana’s stolen grain and . . . and I told Abana that we knew about it.’

‘Stolen grain? You told Abana – but how . . .’

‘Hopi found a big storehouse in the grounds of his mansion. And then we had to go back to look for something,’ Isis explained desperately. ‘Abana nearly caught me, and I blurted out what I knew. Please, Nefert, we have to do something – Menna thinks he’ll try to buy our silence with a bribe but that he might threaten us, too.’

Nefert took a deep breath. ‘I’ve seen how this man behaves,’ she said. ‘He won’t try to buy anything. He’s too greedy and cruel for that. Well, Isis, it seems that you and Hopi have brought everything nicely to a head. Who knows, it may even be for the best. We must act quickly. Tell both Paneb and Sinuhe that I want to speak with them at once.’

.

‘The first thing to find out is where the loading will take place,’ said Menna. ‘That’s too active a task for me, I’m afraid. It’s up to you, Hopi.’

Hopi nodded. ‘I’ll start at the embalmers’ workshops. They may be able to point me in the right direction.’ He was still holding the heart scarab. He reached for his linen bag and knotted the precious amulet into one corner. ‘I’ll take this to them at the same time.’

‘Very well,’ said Menna. ‘But be careful. If you must ask for help, choose who you speak to wisely.’

‘I will.’ Hopi shouldered his bag and set off.

His leg felt a little better today, and he made his way quickly through the people milling in the streets. At the workshops, he found Weni watching his assistant at work in the second tent, pulling the brain through the nostrils of a new arrival. The stench was worse than ever. It made Hopi feel sick.

‘Weni,’ he called from the entrance.

The embalmer looked up. ‘Good day to you, Hopi. You got my message, then,’ he said, coming over.

‘Yes, I’ve brought the missing scarab,’ said Hopi.

‘Good. Follow me.’ Weni led the way to the third tent, where Hopi handed over the amulet. Weni summoned Hetep, and they went through the same ritual as before.

‘I wonder if you can help me,’ said Hopi, once the transaction was done. ‘It may be of great help to you, too. I need to find the boat belonging to your supplier of natron.’

‘Really?’ Weni looked surprised. ‘What is it to you, young apprentice?’

‘We suspect him of more than delaying your natron,’ said Hopi. ‘If we track him down, we may uncover a great injustice. But first, I must find his boat.’

‘Very interesting,’ said Weni. ‘It would be a great relief to have this problem solved. Come.’ He led Hopi outside and pointed to the jetty. ‘The boat moors there when it brings us the natron. When it leaves, it goes downriver, towards the north. Perhaps that’s where you’ll find it.’

‘Thank you,’ said Hopi. ‘I hope I’ll soon have good news.’

He followed the little path that led down to the wooden jetty, which jutted out well into the river so that a heavy boat could moor. But there was no sign of the boat now. Hopi set off downstream along the shore, thinking. Abana’s house must be further towards the temples of Ipet-Isut – and, of course, away from the river towards the desert. The most direct route from the tax collector’s grain store to the river would surely end close to here.

The riverbank undulated, and Hopi had to wade through a marshy area where reeds and lotus flowers grew in the shallow water. It was difficult to see ahead through the reeds and Hopi made slow progress, parting them carefully as he went. When he emerged on the other side, he immediately knew he had found what he was looking for. There, up ahead, was a flat cargo boat, pulled in to the side of the river.

The boat seemed to be deserted. Its sails were furled on the two big masts, and there was no one on deck. Hopi stepped back among the reeds again, then followed the marshy area inland up a disused irrigation channel. On the bank, a clump of date palms grew, offering shelter both from the sun and prying eyes. But Hopi could see just enough. Standing in the shade were five donkeys tethered together. And piled in a heap next to them were panniers, perfect for carrying sacks of grain.

Hopi wondered what to do. This could be any cargo boat, any group of donkeys, but that was very unlikely. This was a secret, sheltered mooring and it was in the right place. Eventually, he made his decision, and clambered out of the irrigation channel to take a closer look.

‘Hey!’

Hopi was expecting the shout, and stopped. A man had been lying under the palm trees, and now he got up. He brushed himself down and walked over. To Hopi’s relief, it wasn’t the trader himself, but a rough-looking peasant with rotting teeth.

‘What are you doing here?’ demanded the man.

‘I thought it would be a good place for lotus,’ said Hopi. ‘It’s all been picked further down the river, because of the festival.’

The man grinned. ‘That’s girls’ work.’

Hopi pointed to the scars on his leg. ‘Girls’ work is all I can do,’ he said in a humble voice. Keeping his eyes lowered, he nodded towards the donkeys. ‘I expect they’ll be going to the festival, too, won’t they, sir?’

‘What, my donkeys? Nah.’ The man shook his head. ‘I’ve been given a big job for them here. Pays better than I’ve been paid all year.’

‘Really? Your employer must be rich.’

‘Must be, I suppose. No one in their right mind pays extra to have grain shifted on the day of the festival. Suits me, though.’ The man laughed, exposing his blackened teeth.

‘I wish you luck,’ said Hopi, turning back towards the river.

‘And you, you little lotus-picker!’

Hopi smiled to himself as he tramped back down the irrigation channel. This was Abana’s trading point – he was sure.

.

The three sisters looked very imposing, sitting in a row in the practice room. Isis had never noticed before how strong they could seem; they were all tall and beautiful, with expressive features. Their faces usually showed warmth and laughter, but now they were serious, even stern, and there was no doubt that they meant business.

Isis had been the one to tell Paneb and Sinuhe that Nefert wanted to speak to them. Both men came into the room – Sinuhe wary, Paneb defensive.

Nefert didn’t waste any time. ‘Paneb, enough is enough,’ she said. ‘Our cousin’s arrival has caused us all grief. And now it may bring us even greater misfortune if we don’t face up to what’s happening to us.’

Paneb looked around at the women’s faces. ‘And what is that? What’s going on?’

‘My sisters and I wanted nothing to do with the tax collector Abana. We went to his house because you insisted on it, and all because of your cousin,’ Nefert carried on.

Paneb couldn’t deny it. ‘Yes, that is true.’

‘And now it turns out that Abana is every bit as dishonest and ruthless as we suspected him to be. Isis and Hopi have discovered his store of stolen grain, and he wants to make sure they’re silenced. His guard is hunting for our house as I speak.’

Alarm spread over Paneb’s features. ‘Then we must –’

‘Wait.’ Nefert held up one hand. ‘Before we do anything at all, we must settle our own issues. I’m tired of fighting something I don’t understand. Why is it that Sinuhe can make such demands upon us?’

Isis and Mut exchanged glances. Isis felt excited and scared all at once. Silence fell, until at last Paneb spoke.

‘Very well, I can’t hide the truth any longer,’ he said.

Isis waited, holding her breath.

Paneb carried on, ‘Sinuhe is not a distant cousin. He and I grew up together on the land he now farms. Our fathers were brothers and they both died young.’

Isis stared from one man to the other. They were so very different – Paneb with his soft, plump body and beautiful linen kilt; Sinuhe with his dark, wizened skin and shabby loincloth. She could barely believe it.

‘Our grandfather held our birthright,’ Paneb continued. ‘It was symbolised by an obsidian scarab that had passed down through the generations. I had no wish to lead the life of a peasant and I left . . . I left everything to Sinuhe.’

The scarab that Isis had found! But now it was broken . . .

‘You mean you ran away,’ said Sinuhe, his voice bitter. ‘You left me with nothing but hardship. You left me with your mother as well as my own, and with all our unmarried sisters.’

Isis saw shame creep over Paneb’s features. It clearly pained him deeply to think about his past.

‘But, cousin, you were given the birthright,’ he said. ‘You were given the fields. I had nothing. I was nothing for a long, long time: a man with no family trade. Believe me, my body grew leaner than yours is now.’

‘A young man on his own can always survive,’ retorted Sinuhe. ‘You fled your responsibilities. I am the one who has toiled year in, year out to grow crops. I am the one who cared for your family. I am the one who bore the greatest burden, and it is a burden I shouldered alone.’

Paneb looked close to tears. ‘I am sorry, my cousin,’ he said. ‘Everything you say is true. I failed my family. I failed you. I should have stayed to help you farm the land and pay the king his taxes.’

It was a tense moment. Everyone was astounded to hear the truth about Paneb’s past. Then, to Isis’s surprise, Nefert stepped forward and placed her hand in her husband’s.

‘These were the faults of his youth,’ she said to the peasant. ‘Paneb has grown up now. He has us. He protects us – a wife and her widowed sisters – and he chose to take two orphans under his roof.’

‘That may be so,’ Sinuhe muttered. ‘But my family’s belly is empty.’

Paneb seemed to gain strength from Nefert standing at his side. ‘You are right, cousin,’ he said. ‘And believe me, I have been trying to make amends. Your burden has weighed very heavily upon me. But what Nefert says is true: we now face the anger of Abana, and I must protect us all. We have no time to lose.’

Sinuhe nodded reluctantly. ‘Very well. I have seen for myself what Abana can unleash on a family. I will do whatever you say.’

‘Thank you, cousin.’ Paneb looked around at everyone. ‘We must leave the house at once,’ he said. ‘Isis, run to Meryt-Amun’s house to see if they will take us in for the night. We’ll take everything we need for the festival, and board up the door.’

As the women began to pack away their instruments, Paneb turned to Sinuhe. ‘You, my cousin, can rest in the shade on the street, and tell the guard that we have fled.’

Relief spread around the room as Paneb took charge. Isis ran to the door, then looked back to see that Paneb’s face was grave.

‘Never let it be said again that I have failed to look after my family,’ he finished, and drew himself up tall.