Shadows of the Nile (10 page)

Aline felt drawn to the jewelled box. She'd like to have seen inside it.

“It's all so fascinating, isn't it?” Gerald said. “What a pretty box, Aline. It does seem romantic that someone kept locks of hair in a box.”

“Romantic. Mm. Maybe.”

“Oh, and look here! Do you remember in the tomb there was a little alcove? It says here that these two statues were in that alcove. He must be the owner and the woman his wife.”

Aline examined them carefully. “They look so young. And like each other. I suppose the artist would depict them as attractive people, about to pass on.”

“Yes, I think you're right.”

“What I don't understand,” Aline murmured, “is if he died first, how did they get her into the tomb?”

“I reckon it was a bit like our burials. They open up the grave and put the second one in on top. I expect they'd have done the same with the tomb. Funny there's no mention of their names. There's usually something in the hieroglyphics to say who they were. Maybe it disappeared over time. Gosh, look at that old chair. Not much of it left now, but then think of its age – thousands of years old.”

Aline looked. She felt a shiver go down her back. She sensed extreme cold, an inability to move, intense fear. She felt the ring on her finger tighten a little, comforting her. Then there was warmth circulating round her body like a furnace. As she stared hard at the chair she saw something slither away from it.

“I'm off for a coffee,” Gerald announced. “Are you coming?”

“No, I'll carry on for a bit. I'll see you in a while.”

Gerald gave her a grin. “Don't be long.”

Aline wandered back to look at the statues. They looked mass-produced and so didn't look anything like the people who had died. Again she felt a great sadness. They'd gone a long time ago. She let her senses drift. Strange names came into her mind. Ptah, had he been called that? Who was the woman? She glanced down at the ring. It was glowing in the half-light. She could remember if she tried. Masika. Had that been her name? The chair – something nasty had happened there.

Suddenly she took a deep breath. In trying to recall the names she realised she'd missed something of vital importance in the tomb. She thought she'd examined all the walls in minute detail but she hadn't. The alcove! She'd been afraid of going down the steps to the tomb chamber and had only glanced fleetingly at it, and it was only half lit. But it did have small paintings. The statues would originally have stood in front of anything that had been drawn, and the paintings would have been important to the owner and his wife. She had to go back. She had just enough time before the boat sailed.

She walked quickly outside. No one saw her hurry up the path towards the tomb. It took just a few minutes and when she reached the entrance she was the only one around. The tourist parties had all dispersed for the moment and the tomb was wide open, empty of any living soul.

*

It was different from yesterday. There had been people around, shuffling along and talking, and filling the interior with life. Now it was as quiet as the grave, with only the dimmed lights giving a glow to the interior.

She hurried to the alcove. She didn't want to be alone in the tomb for any longer than was necessary. She stood for a moment staring almost vacantly at the paintings in the alcove, and then she drew a sharp breath. Amongst all the figures that were carved in the rock were two standing side by side. One must be the wealthy farmer, as he was very dark-skinned and wore a collar of precious gems. He wielded a knife with a jewelled handle, which was his symbol of strength and power over his subordinates. But it wasn't him that made Aline gasp in astonishment. It was the girl who stood next to him. She wasn't very old, maybe mid-teens. She wore a long white dress, with a heavy collar of beads around her neck. Most of her hair was covered by a black decorated wig, but escaping from beneath it and touching her shoulders were brown curls. Her skin was a completely different colour to the man's. It was pale, almost white!

Aline stared and stared. The paint could have deteriorated with age leaving the girl looking that way. The hair could have become discoloured with time. But somehow she knew otherwise. The girl was something to do with Aline herself. Could she have been an ancestor? It wasn't possible, surely. Peter had said her ancestors couldn't have come from this country – but the girl was white and she had her brown curly hair. What was such a young person doing all alone in Egypt at a time when most people in Europe would scarcely know where the country was?

Aline was certain she was connected to her in some way. She had to find out how.

She raced out of the tomb and up the hill. She knew she had to get a certain distance away in order for her plan to work. This time she didn't need Nephthys and her tricks to go back. She knew exactly what she had to do.

She stood quietly facing the river. She held her right hand over her left, protecting and feeling the ring. She could hear the wind coming down the Nile. She could see the shadows in the water. She knew she should stay in the present to be safe. That wasn't what she wanted. The wind swirled round her, whisking her away. She closed her eyes, hearing the wailing of time as it reverted for thousands of years.

She had turned from the here and now, and began to explore once again what had been.

Tadinanefer sat for a long time on the low wall. No one came near her. Even when a dog approached, it sniffed the air about her, jumped backwards, barked and ran off. She continued to stare at the ground. She wished Ptah had caught her and put her out of her miserable existence. She was not needed by anyone. Nobody would miss her.

It was as these depressing thoughts occupied her that a breeze swept quite unexpectedly down the narrow street. She could smell air so pure and sweet, so unnatural, it could only have been sent from above. It seemed to revive her. With the exuberance of youth returning to every corner of her body, she felt renewed energy and hope. She began to swing her legs. No one had caught up with her. She was alive and she'd remain that way, if she kept one step ahead of Ptah. And she would – he wouldn't triumph over her.

She could hear noise from the main street. There were cheers and the sound of horses. She was curious. It couldn't be anyone after her.

Cautiously she made her way up to where the people stood. She kept to the back of the crowd at first, and could see very little. She determined to get closer, and somehow squeezed her way to the front. There was some sort of procession. Men in beautiful clothes walked steadily along, carrying poles, their brown muscular chests gleaming in the sunlight. The gold around their necks and on their wigs sparkled so much she could scarcely look at them. Then, seated on a magnificent black horse, which also sparkled with precious stones embedded in its saddle and bridle, sat a very noble lord. His bejewelled wig and huge gold necklace made her realise just how wealthy he must be. But it was his face which held her attention and caused her to gasp. His dark eyes, proudly staring down at the crowds from his bronzed face, seemed almost familiar to her, as did his aristocratic nose and sensuous mouth. She reached out without thinking, in a futile attempt to touch him, and was immediately whacked by one of guards. The blow was so hard that she fell.

“Get out the way, tramp,” he hissed at her.

The rider looked at her in the commotion and their eyes met. He frowned, hesitated a second, seemed almost to say something, decided against it, and rode on. But even as she struggled to her feet, still reeling with pain from the blow, she couldn't take her eyes off him. As she did so, she saw a faint twitch in the back of his shoulders, as if he too felt something had passed between them.

*

Long after the crowds dispersed, she stood rooted to the spot. She held her arm, trying to numb the excruciating pain. The guard had been quite brutal in his attack. She wondered if her arm was broken.

A gentle hand touched her.

“Are you all right?” a voice spoke softly.

“I'm not sure,” Tadinanefer replied quietly.

“You poor lad. You've suffered a bad injury and you look as if you could do with a good meal and fresh clothes. Come with me to the temple and I'll find people to bathe you and make you well again. Come, come, follow me.”

She needed little encouragement. She walked a few paces behind the woman, not losing sight of her, as they went through many streets, filled with people, and wound their way up a hillside; they entered through a large pillared gate, the outbuildings of a big complex.

As soon as they were safely in a small outer room, the woman turned and smiled. Tadinanefer was struck by the sweetness in her face. She was much older than Tadinanefer, maybe thirty-something.

“My name is Chione; now let me look at your arm.”

Tadinanefer hesitated.

“Don't worry,” Chione continued. “I only want to look at your injury. The men will help you otherwise.”

Tadinanefer pulled back her sleeve. The whiteness of her arm contrasting with the purple bruise caused Chione to gasp. However she said nothing and proceeded to examine her arm with the expertise of someone experienced with injuries.

“I think it's only badly bruised. I've got potions to heal it, but I don't understand how it's turned your arm white. But there's nothing to worry about. I'll massage the blood back into your limb and its colour will be restored. Here, sit for a moment and I'll try now.”

She began to stroke her arm very gently, quietly murmuring ancient words. In performing her task, her head covering slipped and now it was Tadinanefer's turn to gasp in surprise.

“You have strange ears! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude, but they're different.”

“I was born with these. I know they stick out but they were a special gift from the Gods. They give me healing powers. But look – I believe the colour is coming back into your arm. It's going a bit red. I think after a few more minutes it'll be well again. I'll call one of the men and they'll look after you.”

“No! Please wait.” Tadinanefer struggled for words. She had to reveal her identity. That was dangerous enough, and yet to be thrown over to the male fraternity would be even more of a disaster.

“I'm not what I seem. I had to take on these men's clothes because my master was cross with me, and I ran away from him. He chased after me and would have killed me, if he'd caught me. I'm in disguise. I'm not a boy at all – I'm really a female.”

Chione stared at her, clearly not certain whether to believe her or not.

“Please, will you allow me to take off my clothes? You'll soon know I'm a woman. I… have something else I must tell you.”

“Yes?”

“Like you, I'm unusual. Because my parents came from another country I'm a different colour to everyone else. My arm wasn't white because of losing blood. The whole of my body is white. My hair is a different colour to everyone else's. It's very brown and very curly. Please don't be afraid of me. There are a few white people in this country but none as far as I know around here. I can't help being what I am, just as you are.”

“Let me see your hair first,” Chione said cautiously.

Slowly Tadinanefer unwound the rags from her hair. It was unkempt and dirty but even so the beauty of its colour was quite unmistakable. No man could ever have owned hair like it.

Chione was amazed, and hesitated. Then she suddenly gained courage.

“Okay, take your clothes off, but I must tell you I have guards I can call instantly if you're lying.”

Tadinanefer wiped the mud from her face. She slipped the dirty garments over her head and stood completely naked. Her body gleamed like pale marble. She stood very still, letting Chione study her in utter astonishment.

“I can't believe it! I've never seen anything like you,” she gasped. “You're like one of the stone statues in the temples. How did you get to be that colour? You say your parents were from another country. I've never seen a white person before.”

“My parents came from a far-off place where the people are white, and some have gold-coloured hair, like my mother and father. They died here, sadly, and I was bought by a wealthy man. He wanted to take me with him to the afterlife before my time. My adopted mother stopped it and helped me to escape. But he's still after me and will kill me if he finds me.”

Chione's face flooded with compassion. “Here, wrap yourself in this blanket. No one will find you here. It's too heavily guarded. First we must get you clean, clothed and fed. The Gods have sent you to us to be protected. I'll take you with me to the women's quarters and we'll look after you.”

She led Tadinanefer across the square into another set of buildings. Here she was fussed over, and everything was done to make her comfortable. For the first time in many days she slept, in the knowledge that she was safe and cared for.

*

She dreamt of the man on the black horse. He kept looking down at her with a strange warm light in his eyes, as she lay hurt and wounded on the stony earth. Instead of her holding out her hand to him, he stretched out his arm to her as if to lift her up and place her beside him on his black stallion.

She woke with a start. She had to find out who he was and where he lived. She must find him again. She had to see him.

*

Ptah didn't find her. Chione told her that even if he'd been to the temple he wouldn't have been allowed near the women, who were protected by the heavens. Mostly the women were very young and beautiful, like Tadinanefer, and Chione said they'd been brought to the temple to remain as virgins until a decision was made about their future. There were a few with some sort of minor deformity who were accepted because they carried a gift of healing, or teaching, like Chione. Tadinanefer's colour was quickly ignored and she was allowed to walk in the confines of the women's gardens where no one from the outside world could see her.

She became good friends with Chione. She quickly learned the ways of prayer, and Chione began to teach her how to read the prayers written on the walls in hieroglyphics, and how to copy the writings onto papyrus. She also taught her how to draw and was surprised at how talented she was.

“You write and draw well,” Chione said, one time. “We must record many things, so people will know how we lived in years to come.”

*

Tadinanefer tried to be happy and content in her new life, but something was missing.

“That day you found me,” she said to Chione one evening as they sat together, “there was a procession. Do you know who it was for?”

“I'm not sure,” Chione replied thoughtfully. “There are always a lot of people passing through the town. I do recall it was for someone very wealthy, possibly a nobleman, or maybe even our Pharaoh, or someone in his family. I don't know who it was. Why? Is it important?”

“No, not really.” Tadinanefer knew it wasn't wise to push the subject any further. She wasn't quite sure whether talking about the outside world was totally accepted, and she didn't want to alienate Chione. Even so she decided the time had come to see what was around the complex.

*

The very next day, when she was alone in the women's section, she decided to try and climb the wall. She'd examined it several times and there were footholds in the wall where stones had either become dislodged or she could remove a loose one and put it aside to gain access to the top. She knew it was dangerous, and she might fall and really hurt herself, but it was a risk she had to take. Gathering her skirt about her, she knotted it to one side of her body and swung easily into the first foothold. The wall was dusty and it was difficult to hold on to parts of it to steady herself, but she was determined not to give up. She breathed slowly and worked her way up, taking each step as it came. Once or twice she glanced down, more fearful than anything that one of the women might come out for their evening walk, but no one appeared and soon she had reached the top.

Catching her breath, she paused for only a second and then slid carefully down the other side, using the same technique as before, and soon she had reached the ground, and was outside the women's quarters. She was still within the confines of the temple but she'd come out at the back where no visitors would ever go. There was another small wall to climb but that proved easier than the first. As she stood at last beyond the temple she unknotted her skirt and looked around to see just where she was.

She knew that this time she'd no intention of leaving; she was merely trying out an escape route for when she could manage to get clothes and food to take with her. Where she would go she didn't know, but she'd somehow find out where the rider and his stallion were.

She walked carefully round the corner of the wall. She was more or less on the outskirts of the town and it would be easy enough to escape quickly and disappear just as long as she was once more in disguise.

“What! What's this?”

She turned quickly. She'd been an idiot. She hadn't watched her back and now someone stood in her way, barring her return.

“What on earth are you?” the man said, incredulously.

She faced her adversary. He didn't look like a temple guard. He was well dressed, with gold round his neck, quite young, and he looked as if he'd always enjoyed the good things in life.

“You're a very funny colour,” he continued. “Why are you so white? Are you ill? And why is your hair like that?” He reached out and pulled it, making her wince in pain.

“Don't touch me,” she hissed at him. “I'm special and I'll put a curse on you if you're not careful.”

He looked at her curiously. “Are you from that so-called temple?”

“No, I'm not. Why should I be?”

“Because you've just come over the wall. And they've been known to take in some odd women. Another thing – you're wearing the thin white dress those girls always wear there. Not that I think you're odd, in fact now I look closely at you I think you're very desirable and very different. No, you're very nice.” He started to look at her more closely, his eyes moving down her body. He grasped her skirt. “I've only ever seen a few people like you. Are you that colour all over?”

She suddenly realised the danger she was in. Masika, her mother, had instructed her about growing up and how to watch out for the advances of men who didn't love her but just wanted to use her.

“Yes, but wait. I'm not ready. Meet me near that building over there in a few minutes and we can talk more.”

He hesitated. “I thought you females always did your potions and spells before you came out here. Where are yours? I can come and help you if you like.”

“They're just near the wall, back a bit. But I must do my rituals on my own. I'll be quick.”

He stared at her for a moment. “Don't mess me about,” he muttered, and stood back.

She raced to the wall and climbed it with agility this time. She was soon back in the women's section, breathing heavily from her exertion, and more than just a little scared. Perhaps racing out into the outside world without a proper plan wasn't a good idea and she'd have to work on something else.

Then she began to realise something. If she could climb the wall then any of the young girls could do exactly the same thing and get to the outside. Why would they do that? Had the man been waiting for someone? Were some of the women not quite as chaste as they were made out to be?