Orphan of the Sun (22 page)

And with that, she pushed past Meryt and started back down the track to the village gate.

Meryt felt nonplussed, and a little lost. Her plan had failed, more or less; Nofret's admission, such as it was, had got her nowhere. She was going to have to think the whole thing through much more carefully.

I have nothing to lose
. Strange, powerful words that somehow shook Meryt to her core, for she could not say the same for herself. Despite the difficult times she was going through, she loved Set Maat and its people. She loved the tomb of her father and the knowledge that she came from a long line of craftsmen. She loved Tia and Dedi and Kenna, little Mose and Henut. When times were good she even loved Senmut, in her own way. Deep down she knew she had faith – faith in Teti, faith in her friends and faith in the future.

But Nofret had nothing.
Nothing to lose
. And yet, Meryt thought slowly, if she had nothing to lose then she surely had something to gain.

Meryt began to make her own way back, and as she reached the eastern tombs she thought she could hear more of a hubbub than usual. Curious, she quickened her pace and saw as soon as she passed
through the gate that the main street was thronging with people.

‘What's going on?' she asked the Medjay guard.

‘Haven't you heard? Nebnufer has been arrested.'

‘
Nebnufer
has been arrested!' Meryt was shocked. She thought of the two men she had seen in Nebnufer's house. Somehow she had imagined that it was Nebnufer himself who had summoned them. Surely this couldn't be right! ‘But what for?' she asked.

‘Stealing tomb equipment, that's what I heard,' said the guard. ‘The top Medjay men went round to his house. They found a pile of new copper tools in his storeroom – government stock. He'll have some explaining to do by the sound of it.'

Meryt could scarcely take it in. ‘
Stealing!'
she exclaimed. ‘That's ridiculous. As if Nebnufer needs to steal anything.'

The guard shrugged and grinned. ‘Well, that's what they found,' he said. ‘Guess it's in the vizier's hands now.'

Meryt felt cold inside. She had no doubt that Userkaf was somehow at the bottom of this, but once the matter was referred to the vizier it would be difficult to show it for what it was – or certainly to prove anything. The situation had escalated beyond her wildest imaginings.

She walked quickly towards Dedi's house. To her dismay, there were clusters of people gossiping outside it.
Nebnufer
, she heard.
Userkaf. Sennedjem
. She
decided not to disturb the household, and to return later.
The kenbet is meeting …
Everyone was talking about it. She broke into a jog, weaving her way through the crowds. And then she felt a hand on her elbow, and spun round.

It was Tia who stood there. ‘Meryt, I'm so glad I found you.' Her eyes were sunken with weariness, and a faint twitch irritated the skin beneath her left eye. Meryt thought she had aged beyond her twenty-seven years, and she reached out to touch her aunt's arm.

‘You look so tired,' she said.

Tia's eyes filled with tears, and she struggled to blink them away. ‘I've left Senmut with Baki,' she said. ‘I told him I was going to make an offering to Peshedu.'

Meryt thought quickly. Whatever was happening at Nebnufer's house, it would have to wait. ‘Let's go to Peshedu's tomb anyway,' she said. ‘There, you can rest.'

Her aunt nodded, and Meryt took her arm. Together, they walked slowly to the western gate and the cemetery that now stood in shadow, long since abandoned by the morning sun.

‘How is Baki?' Meryt asked, when they had left the milling people behind. ‘Is he any better?'

Tia's bottom lip trembled. ‘He is knocking on the door of the Next World,' she said, her voice anguished. ‘I am so afraid. I don't know how long he has left.'

Meryt's heart filled with guilt. If only she had made sure that her cousin received the linen charm when Teti had given it to her. She hoped desperately that Mose had done what she had told him. ‘Did Mose give you the balm from Teti?'

‘Yes. Thank you, Meryt. I used it on his wound, but I fear it will not be much help.'

Meryt frowned. ‘I don't understand. Whatever you believe about Baki, this balm has come from Teti and she is sure it can cure him.'

Tia shrugged and was silent, breathing heavily as they climbed the hill. Meryt supported her until they reached the chapel courtyard, where her aunt leant against the wall in relief. ‘Let's sit,' she said. ‘I need to rest.'

She walked slowly to the chapel entrance and lowered herself to the ground just outside it. Meryt joined her and waited until her aunt's breathing steadied, and she seemed ready to talk. ‘When did you last come here?' she asked.

‘Yesterday,' Tia told her. ‘And someone else had been here again.'

Meryt thought of Heria, hurrying down the hill back to the village. ‘I know who it is,' she said. ‘But I don't know why she comes.'

Tia looked at her sharply. ‘She? Who is it?'

Meryt studied her fingers. They still smelt slightly of the fragrant tallow that she and Dedi had used to make the perfume cones. ‘Heria,' she said.

‘Heria!' Tia's eyes filled with wonder.

‘So you don't know why either?' said Meryt.

Tia shook her head. ‘No idea. She knew your father, of course.' She sighed and lapsed into silence again, playing with the string of amulets that she wore around her neck. Meryt watched her. Tia was clearly exhausted, and troubled to the core of her being. She wondered whether to question her, but could see that she needed to speak in her own time.

‘Meryt, there is something I need to tell you,' her aunt said eventually. ‘That's why I came to find you.'

Meryt's heart began to thump harder in anticipation, and she nodded. ‘It's about Peshedu, isn't it?'

‘Yes.' Tia swallowed, wringing her hands together. ‘I don't know how … how …' she trailed off, her eyes filling with tears once more.

‘Mose told me that you have angered him in some way,' said Meryt, trying to help her. ‘But you are so gentle and good. I can't imagine what you might have done.'

‘Oh, Meryt.' Tia's tears began to fall in big, heavy drops. ‘I have done so much. I doubt you will forgive me, when you know.'

‘
I
forgive you!' cried Meryt in amazement. ‘What has it to do with me?'

She had to wait for several minutes before Tia could speak again. When she did, she spoke in little gasps, as though she were afraid to let the words out. ‘If it were not for me, you might still have a father, Meryt,' she said. ‘And now Peshedu is punishing me for this with the death of my own dear son.'

‘No!' Meryt shook her head in bewilderment. ‘Peshedu died of the coughing disease. That is what you have always told me. Is this not true?'

Tia made a little motion with her shoulders that was not quite a shrug. ‘Perhaps,' she stuttered. ‘But he might … he might have lived if it were not for me.'

‘Men rarely recover from the coughing disease,' said Meryt quietly. ‘I have always accepted this, Tia. You know that.'

‘Yes. Yes. But he was getting better. I know he was, for I was the one who nursed him and implored the gods for his recovery. And then …' Tia stopped, and wiped her eyes with the edge of her dress. The kohl she always wore made a black smudge on the clean white linen, but she didn't seem to care.

‘And then?' Meryt prompted her.

‘The priests of Ptah had given me a spell,' Tia carried on, her voice barely above a whisper. ‘I was to repeat it seven times a day at his bedside. But I grew careless. We were short of grain, for Peshedu's treatment had cost us much, and Senmut began to complain that I cared more for my brother than I did for him. I did as much weaving as I could manage, and one day, news came that Paser the scribe wanted three new kilts. Peshedu was sleeping, so I left him and ran to Paser's house with the kilts. I forgot that it was time to repeat the spell. Paser kept me waiting for … for … half the afternoon.' She took a deep, shuddering breath. ‘And when I returned, your father was …was …'

Tia could not finish her sentence, and Meryt felt a strange stillness. She imagined her father, lying on his sick bed, drifting towards the Next World for lack of the magic that could have saved him. The darkness that must have slowly crept up on him. The terror of dying untended and alone … She had never felt so close to her father's death before – or to his life, that precious, precious life. It was as though the world were slowing down, going backwards, as Tia continued to speak. ‘He left me for the Next World without a word. I could only think that he was punishing me for abandoning him in his hour of need. He has never given me peace from that day to this.'

Meryt stared at Tia, unseeing, as the vision of a different world flashed before her – one in which she lived happily in her own father's home, without Baki to taunt her or Senmut to fill her with guilt. In the house of her uncle she would have been only an occasional guest, the daughter of a respected sculptor in the Great Place and a playmate for her cousins, not a burdensome orphan to be resented and despised. She would have been happy, wanted and loved.

She tried to speak, but the words stuck in her throat.

‘I tried to appease him,' Tia carried on. ‘I made sure of his life in the Next World. All that he left behind was yours, but you were only two years old. I swore that I would care for you for your whole life if I had to. So he was given the best embalming and funeral. We paid for many amulets to be placed among his wrappings, and his tomb lacked for nothing.
I hoped it would assure him that I never meant any harm.'

Meryt bowed her head. She felt almost sick. Her limbs began to shake. With a strangled cry, she buried her head in her arms and started to sob.

‘Meryt … Meryt … Don't. Hush, please don't. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry,' Tia's voice begged, but it could make no difference now. Meryt rocked to and fro, lost in her own world of grief. ‘Hush, hush, please, don't,' Tia repeated, and Meryt felt an arm around her shoulders.

She couldn't bear it. ‘Leave me alone!' she cried, without looking up. ‘There is nothing you can do for me now!'

Tia said nothing more, and Meryt could not say when she felt the touch of her hand leave her shoulders. All she could feel was the life of the father that she had lost – snatched away from him as he lay abandoned and alone.

But some time later, as darkness began to fall, Meryt looked up to find that her aunt had gone. She crept into the chapel and laid down to one side of the altar, where she was sheltered from the cool evening breeze. She curled into a ball and waited for the velvety blackness of night to cloak her. Soon, the heavy weight lying in her chest pulled her down, down, into a dreamless sleep from which she never wanted to wake.

When at last Meryt opened her eyes, she didn't know where she was. A shaft of sunlight was beaming on
to her face and she sat up, shielding her gaze from its glare. She looked around, taking in the offerings on the altar and the beautiful paintings on the dome of the chapel. It did not take long to remember what had happened the day before, and she sat still, wishing she could find the hidden entrance to the tomb itself and join her father for ever. In the Next World, they would never be parted and there would never be another death to face alone.

But then she felt angry, for life could have been so different. Peshedu might have lived. And to add to this pain, Tia's words crept back to haunt her:
I tried to appease him … I swore that I would care for you for your whole life if I had to
. Now, Meryt was alone, with the knowledge that the woman who had shielded her all her life had done so only out of guilt. The bitterness of it was like the taste of a tamarind in her mouth.

She felt her stomach rumble in hunger, and looked at Tia's most recent offering. What good could it do anyway, lying there on the altar? It was only to beg forgiveness for Meryt's own predicament! Peshedu would hardly blame her for eating it. She picked up a loaf and tore off a chunk, then helped herself to a handful of dates. She stared at them, daring herself to take the first bite. When she did, a strange sense of recklessness came over her and she ate hungrily, ramming the food into her mouth with savage, bitter glee. As she did so, Meryt thought of Nofret's words.
I have nothing to lose
. Suddenly, she knew exactly
what the servant girl had meant.

As the day grew brighter, Meryt's thoughts drifted to the moment before meeting Tia. It seemed an eternity ago, but then she remembered: the buzzing crowds, Nebnufer's arrest, and talk of a council meeting. Despite herself, she felt curious.

She left the chapel and began to walk through the cemetery to the western gate, looking down at the village as she did so. From the sound of it, the bustle on the streets had returned to normal; people were going about their morning business. She glanced up and spotted a group of men walking up the path that led to the Great Place, and guessed that they were men from Sennedjem's gang. They reminded her of Senmut, and the house that could never be her home again.

It was too painful a thought to dwell on. Pushing it away, she walked through the gate and made her way to Dedi's house. The street outside was now quiet. The door, which was usually left ajar, was firmly shut. She looked around, and caught sight of a neighbour's head peeping at her from behind her front door, then quickly retreating again. Meryt felt chilled, a sense of foreboding filling her as she raised her hand to knock.

At first, no one answered. Then, after a long, long pause, Dedi's brother Yuya opened the door, his expression wary.

‘Oh, it's you, Meryt,' he said. ‘Dedi's not here. Mother's taken her away for a few days. All the
women have gone – the servants too.'