Orphan of the Sun (20 page)

Kenna jumped off the donkey's back and helped Mose down to the ground. He looked so small and timid here, away from the family home, and Meryt drew a deep breath. She desperately did not want to get him into trouble, or do him any harm. She hoped she was doing the right thing.

‘Shall I leave you?' asked Kenna. ‘I could come back in a while, if you like. I was on my way to the coppersmith's forge when I met you. I could pick Mose up on the way back.'

Meryt hesitated, then nodded. ‘Thank you, Kenna,' she said, smiling at Mose, who reached for her hand.

She led her cousin back into the shade as Kenna trotted off down the valley. When they were sitting comfortably with their backs against the cool mud-brick wall, she began to question him gently.

‘Does Tia know you are here?' she asked.

Mose shook his head. ‘Kenna climbed on to the roof and told me to meet him on the street. He said not to tell anyone. It was easy. Mama and Papa take no notice of what I do now they are caring for Baki.'

‘Well, I'm glad you're here,' said Meryt. ‘How is Baki? Is he any better?'

Mose studied his fingers. ‘He is still very sick. Mama and Papa are afraid he will die,' he said softly.

Meryt took a deep breath. ‘That is why I've brought you here. I have something that might help him.'

Mose frowned. ‘What kind of thing?'

‘It is a spell. And a balm for his wound. We must get them to him, somehow, but Uncle does not want me in the house. You might be Baki's only hope.'

Mose looked dubious. ‘I don't see how that will help,' he said.

‘This is serious, Mose. Baki might die,' Meryt said urgently. Surely he knew how Senmut felt about her? He had heard it all when she had visited. Mose might be young, but he had sense enough to realise what was going on.

‘I know that.' Mose's face was calm.

‘And you know that Uncle blames me.'

‘Yes. But it isn't your fault.' Mose hugged his knees and rocked gently.

‘Well … I hope it isn't. Not in the way he means,' agreed Meryt, not wishing to alarm him. She felt
uneasy. At the very least, she had failed to deliver the charm, which in itself might prove fatal; and despite Teti's reassurances, she still felt a ripple of fear at what her hatred might have brought about.

But Mose's next words took her by surprise. ‘Mama says it is her fault, not yours. She told me why Peshedu is always angry with her. It is because she did something bad, a long time ago. This is why Baki is sick.'

He spoke with great authority and Meryt was shocked. ‘But whatever did she do to make Peshedu so angry?' she exclaimed.

‘I don't know,' said Mose. ‘She wouldn't tell me that.'

Meryt stared at him. Of course, Tia had always been bothered by Peshedu – and more so recently than ever before. It had always been difficult to understand. But if she had done something to anger him, what sort of thing would justify such a fate for Baki? ‘And what does your father think?' she asked.

Mose pursed his lips. ‘He is still blaming you. He doesn't believe what Mama says.'

‘But you believe her.'

‘Yes. Mama tells the truth.'

Meryt shook her head in bewilderment. There was no doubt that Mose believed what he was saying, but it made little sense to her. And meanwhile, Baki was drawing ever closer to the Next World.

‘Listen,' she said, reaching for the linen bag beside her. ‘Baki has been touched by magic. Whoever is to
blame, you must take what I have here.' She fished out the linen charm. ‘This spell is strong enough to bind the magic, but we must get it to him quickly. Will you do this for me, Mose?'

Mose hesitated, then took the charm from her and examined it curiously. ‘Mama is praying to Peshedu,' he said. ‘But I will take this anyway.'

‘Thank you, Mose. You must put it under his head, when Senmut is not watching,' Meryt instructed him. ‘And here is a balm for his wound. Give it to Mama and tell her it comes from Teti. But whatever you do, don't tell Senmut.'

‘I will try,' said Mose.

‘Good boy.' Meryt gave him the bag containing the balm. ‘And tell Tia – tell your mama – to come and visit me at Dedi's house, if she can. I need to speak to her.'

Mose nodded, and folded the top of the bag carefully. Then he stood, and looked down at Meryt with a mournful expression. ‘I miss you, Meryt,' he said, in a small voice, reaching for her hand. ‘Will you be coming back soon?'

Meryt swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to smile. ‘I don't know, Mose. I really don't know.'

Mose hung his head, then shrugged and turned away. ‘I don't want to wait for Kenna,' he said. ‘He might be a long time at the coppersmith's. I'd rather walk.' And with that, he turned towards the village gate, the little linen bag dangling from his hand.

Meryt waited for her friend, thinking over what
Mose had told her. He was young, but he knew when adults were telling the truth and when they were fobbing him off. If Tia had told him she had done something to anger Peshedu, then it was probably true.

So what was the problem with Peshedu? Meryt's father seemed to be at the heart of many things. He had appeared in Meryt's dream with Ramose … he was somehow connected to Heria … and now Tia was saying that he had caused Baki's illness too, because of something she had done. But what?

Meryt had no idea, but a voice niggled away in her head and would not go away however hard she tried to ignore it.
Your dreams hold the answer
, whispered the voice.
You have to go back to Teti. Go and look at your dreams
.

It was maddening and frightening in equal measure, and Meryt sat fighting with herself, pulled first one way and then the other. When she finally spotted Kenna coming up the road on the donkey, she waved in relief.

‘Where's Mose?' he asked, trotting up to her.

‘He's gone home on his own,' Meryt told him. ‘Thank you for fetching him, Kenna.'

‘That's fine.' Kenna looked curious. ‘I just wish I knew what was really going on.'

Meryt gave a little smile. ‘And I wish I could tell you,' she responded. ‘Maybe someday I will be able to.'

Kenna met her gaze. ‘I hope so,' he said softly. He played with the donkey's floppy ears, and Meryt was
filled with yearning – not just for the times when they had been free of troubles, but for a life in which Kenna might look after her and take all her troubles away …

But it was no use. Such a life could not exist. Kenna saw her as his childhood friend, no more. There was all the difference in the world between the looks he gave to Dedi, and the way he looked at her. She had to continue alone, and with this realisation, Meryt made up her mind about what she would do.

‘Where are you going now?' asked Kenna. ‘Do you want a ride with me back into the village?'

Meryt shook her head. ‘I have to go and visit someone.'

‘Visit someone?' Kenna looked puzzled. ‘But we are outside the village.'

‘It is Teti that I need to see,' admitted Meryt. Kenna's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and she regretted saying it at once. ‘Look, I think she may be able to help me, that's all. Please don't ask why.'

‘I wasn't going to judge,' protested Kenna. ‘Teti is wiser than many in the village. My mother has turned to her before now.' He shook his head sorrowfully. ‘But if you are turning to her, I know your problems are beyond me.'

‘Yes.' There was little else she could say. It was true.

‘Well … I hope you will come and find me soon, in happier times.' Kenna gave one of his lopsided grins,
and Meryt smiled.

‘Thank you, Kenna,' she said. ‘I will.'

The smell of baking bread drifted from Teti's courtyard as Meryt approached her house. It was a comforting smell, and when Teti appeared with her hands coated in flour, Meryt smiled nervously.

The
rekhet
seemed to be in a good mood. ‘Come in, come in,' she said gaily. ‘I'm just kneading another batch of bread. Are you hungry?'

‘No … not really,' said Meryt, following her through to the courtyard. Her stomach felt like one big tangled knot; the last thing she felt like doing was eating.

‘Are you sure? There's fresh bread, just out of the oven.' Teti squatted down by a big bowl and pummelled her dough.

Meryt spotted the pile of golden loaves, but still could not find an appetite. ‘Maybe later,' she said politely.

Teti nodded. ‘Did your cousin get the balm?' she asked.

‘I hope so,' said Meryt honestly. ‘I didn't give it to him directly.' She took a deep breath. ‘Actually I was wondering if you could help me with my dreams.'

Teti looked up at Meryt with a warm smile, and lifted the dough out of the bowl. ‘I'm glad,' she said. ‘It is not as frightening as you think. Though I remember thinking so when I first discovered such things for myself.'

Meryt found her words reassuring, and watched as Teti ripped up the dough and shaped it into six round loaves. The
rekhet
checked the little oven and threw on more wood before sliding the loaves inside. ‘There,' she said, rubbing the dough off her hands. ‘I'll just wash, then we can begin.'

She tipped water over her hands and scrubbed them vigorously, then dried them and fetched the papyrus scroll that she had shown Meryt before.

‘We will need this,' said Teti, ‘but it is not enough on its own. There is much more to the understanding of dreams than the scribes can tell us.' She unravelled the scroll carefully. ‘Do you want to start by reading this? For now I can read it to you, but you can learn to read it yourself too, if you wish.'

‘Well – perhaps,' said Meryt, rather breathlessly. ‘But there is a dream I would like to tell you first.'

‘Another dream? Or the one in which Baki was bitten?'

‘Another,' replied Meryt. ‘I consulted the goddess Hathor recently and the dream I had was … was not what I was expecting.'

Teti looked curious. ‘Go on,' she said.

Suddenly, the gates of her heart opened, and Meryt found herself pouring out the whole story – the proposal from Ramose, his mother Heria's offerings in her father's chapel, and the threats from Senmut. ‘I begged for time,' she explained, ‘and my uncle gave it to me. I made an offering to Hathor but when I dreamt, it was not only Ramose that I saw.'

‘Describe the dream to me. Everything you can remember.'

Meryt frowned, trying to think of all the details. ‘I was looking out of a window,' she began, ‘and I saw my father, Peshedu, climbing up towards the Peak of the West. He met Ramose coming the other way, and Ramose turned to walk alongside him. Together they disappeared from view towards the Great Place.'

Then she went over it again, remembering more: the hot desert wind, the linen billowing around the men, and Teti questioned her over each point. ‘You were looking out of a window,' said the
rekhet
thoughtfully. ‘Well, the
Dream Book
has something to say about that. Let's find it, shall we?'

She pored over the scroll, running her finger down the columns for a moment. Then she stopped. ‘It says here,
if a man sees himself in a dream, looking out of a window: Good. It means the hearing of his cry by his god.
The goddess heard your request, Meryt. There can be no doubt about that.'

Meryt stared at the script uncertainly. ‘Are you sure that's good?' she asked.

Teti laughed. ‘Of course it's good.'

So perhaps there was hope, after all! But then Meryt frowned. ‘But I still don't know what it means,' she said. ‘I don't understand what Peshedu has to do with Ramose.' She carried on with the story, describing what Mose had just told her about Tia.

Teti took it all in. ‘You are blessed, Meryt-Re,' she said gently. ‘Do not fear the gods, because they are
with you, and so is your father.'

‘But can it be true that he has brought about Baki's illness? Why would he do such a thing?' Meryt was still disturbed, despite the
rekhet
's words of comfort.

‘All these things will become clear,' said Teti. ‘Peshedu has led Ramose away from you with the blessing of the goddess Hathor. Look at your dream. Feel your way through it. Can you not sense that this is so?'

‘Well … no,' said Meryt. ‘I don't know what to think. I thought perhaps Peshedu was giving Ramose his blessing.'

‘And so he might be,' agreed Teti. ‘But not in relation to you.'

Meryt frowned. ‘I don't see how you've worked that out.'

‘You will learn,' said Teti, with a smile. ‘In time, you will know which way a dream is leading. You must let your mind go. It will lead you to the truth if you allow it to.'

They lapsed into silence as Meryt thought it over. A cat appeared over the courtyard wall and Teti coaxed it towards them. It rubbed against her legs, purring loudly as she scratched it behind the ears.

Meryt reached out as the silky creature wandered over to her, begging for attention. ‘I will try to understand, Teti,' she said, stroking its head. ‘You are right. The dreams are not so frightening when you look at them closely.'

‘No. I am glad you think so.'

The cat found a piece of bread crust on the floor and batted it with its paws, making them laugh, and Meryt suddenly realised she had managed to relax. It was peaceful here, on the outskirts of the village, and her fears were growing less. She watched the cat for a moment, then smiled. ‘Do you think I could have a piece of bread now?' she asked.

‘Of course.' Teti rose and fetched a fresh loaf, which she broke in half. ‘Here you are,' she said, handing Meryt a chunk. ‘I think we may be destined to eat bread together often, you and I, Meryt-Re.'

By the time Meryt got back to Dedi's house, it was as though the party had never happened. Each room had been cleaned from top to bottom by the servants and Meryt felt instantly guilty. Wab was marching around, stern-faced, giving orders for rooms to be swept when they were already clean, and Meryt wished she could shrink away unseen. But there was little chance of that.