The Horned Viper (7 page)

It was a relief that the evening was over. As everyone began to prepare for bed, Tutmose came and sat next to Hopi by the fire.

‘Where is the viper?’ he whispered.

‘It’s here,’ replied Hopi, indicating his linen bag.

‘You won’t let it escape, will you?’

Hopi shook his head. ‘No.’

‘Good.’ The doctor smiled. ‘Perhaps you could teach me how to handle it. I have often wondered how it is done.’

‘Not now, surely!’ exclaimed Hopi, looking around anxiously.

Tutmose shook his head. ‘No, no, not now.’ He lowered his voice. ‘But you could show me at dawn, couldn’t you? Before we head to the boat?’

‘I suppose so.’

The doctor looked satisfied. He rose, and disappeared into his shelter. Hopi gazed into the flames, thinking. He didn’t mind showing Tutmose the viper, of course – that was why he had caught it. But the attack had changed things. The crew were very unhappy, and rightly so. How could Hat-Neb and Tutmose carry on like this, as though everything was the same as before?

.

CHAPTER FIVE

Isis awoke with something warm and heavy on her legs. She looked down to see Killer curled up on her covers, fast asleep. She reached to stroke him for a moment, then lay back to think about the night before. She and Mut had seemed to dance for ever. Hat-Neb had demanded more and more; they’d barely had time to catch their breath all evening. But the crew had looked sullen and miserable, and she still had no idea what had really happened to them.

Dawn was filtering through the flaps of the shelter. Isis eased herself from underneath the sleepy cat and crept outside, where some of the crew had begun to stir. Isis wandered towards them. Many seemed tired and grumpy, and Isis could see blood seeping through their bandages. She wished she could talk to them but only Kerem spoke Egyptian, and he was already busy, marching down to the boat with linen under his arm.

She decided to quiz him anyway. Skipping down the riverbank, she caught up with him and touched his arm. He turned to her in surprise.

‘Kerem,’ she began, ‘is it true that your crew fought off a whole boat of men yesterday, and made them run away?’

Kerem frowned. ‘We fought, yes. You can see the injuries.’

‘And you fought to protect Hat-Neb, didn’t you?’ asked Isis. ‘It was very loyal and brave of you.’

Kerem gave a short laugh. ‘Loyal and brave!’ he repeated. He stopped walking and looked at her. ‘You understand nothing, little dancer.’

Isis was puzzled. ‘Why?’

Kerem shook his head, and carried on walking. ‘We fight when we must fight. This is our work. It does not make us loyal or brave. And yesterday we did not fight for long, because your gods came to save us.’

Isis was curious. ‘How did the gods save you?’ she asked. ‘Do you mean Sobek, the crocodile god? Hat-Neb sacrificed two lambs to him before we left.’

Kerem hesitated. ‘You ask too many questions,’ he said.

‘But was it Sobek?’ Isis persisted.

Kerem had reached the boat. He splashed through the shallow water and started hoisting his pile of linen covers up the ladder.

‘It was not the crocodile,’ he said. ‘It was a snake god.’

‘A snake god! What snake?’ Isis’s thoughts immediately flew to Hopi. But what had her brother got to do with it?

‘I don’t know,’ he replied. ‘I can’t tell you. This is not my land, and these are not my gods.’

And he disappeared over the side of the deck.

.

The viper’s body lay quietly on Hopi’s lap. It was fairly small for a horned viper; probably a male, because the females were bigger.

‘You see, it’s quite docile,’ said Hopi. ‘If it was a cobra, it would be much more likely to strike.’

It was not long after dawn. Tutmose had shaken him awake, wanting to be taught about viper-handling. Now, as Hopi held it firmly behind the head, he studied the snake intently.

‘I see,’ he said.

‘It’s quite calm at the moment,’ Hopi explained. ‘But if it was cornered in the wild, it might make a warning sound by rubbing its scales together.’ He ran a finger down the length of its body. ‘They’re tough, these scales. They make a rasping sound:
fffffff
. . .’

‘Fascinating,’ said Tutmose.

‘Try holding it.’ Hopi offered him the viper.

Tentatively, the doctor reached out and stroked the snake’s body, then recoiled. ‘It’s so cold.’

‘You haven’t touched a snake before? They’re always cold.’

Tutmose placed his hand on the viper once more, then pulled a face. He looked nauseous. ‘Perhaps this was a bad idea,’ he admitted.

Hopi was curious, especially after everything that had happened. ‘Why would you need to learn how to handle it anyway?’

Tutmose sighed. ‘I’m a doctor,’ he said. ‘A snake’s venom might be useful to me. You can get it, I suppose?’

‘Get what? The venom?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, I’ve never milked a viper,’ confessed Hopi. ‘It’s not easy, because you have to make them strike.’

‘Could you try? Just to show me?’ Tutmose seemed almost excited.

Hopi hesitated, uneasy. ‘I could show you in theory,’ he said.

‘Theory’s no good,’ said Tutmose impatiently. He stood up, and wandered around the shelter. Then he came back to sit close to Hopi. ‘Listen,’ he said in a low voice, ‘you saw what happened yesterday. Our boat came under attack. Hat-Neb is in danger – there are many who would like to see him dead. These men were not the only ones. If he has been attacked once, he will be attacked again.’

‘Why?’ asked Hopi. ‘What has he done?’

The doctor placed a hand on Hopi’s shoulder. ‘He has a reputation for cruelty,’ he said. ‘Nevertheless, it is my job to protect him, with magic if necessary. And a snake’s venom is full of power. You must know that.’

Hopi said nothing. He didn’t want to get involved in Hat-Neb’s protection. On the other hand, he didn’t want to fall out with Tutmose, either.

‘Very well,’ he agreed reluctantly. ‘I will need a small container – a jar, perhaps – to collect the venom. And a piece of linen,’ he said.

Tutmose smiled. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘Today, Hat-Neb is going on a hunting trip in the marshes. We will find a jar on the boat, and you can show me then.’

.

Isis watched as the crew swung the boat out into the middle of the river. She was thinking. A snake god . . . it was too much of a coincidence. Hopi
must
be involved, and she was determined to work out how. She found him sitting at the prow of the boat and sat down next to him.

‘Hopi,’ she said, ‘why won’t you tell me about yesterday?’

Hopi shifted uncomfortably. ‘Tell you what?’

‘Kerem told me that they were saved by a snake. A snake god. Do you know anything about that?’

Isis noticed Hopi’s hand drifting to his bag. She stared at it. Surely her brother didn’t have a snake on board?

‘Er, no. No,’ said Hopi. ‘Nothing to do with me.’

Isis felt stung. She knew her brother too well. ‘Don’t lie to me, Hopi!’ she hissed. ‘You have a snake in your basket. I know you do.’

‘Isis.’ Hopi’s voice was urgent. ‘Be careful. Keep out of all this. You don’t understand.’

‘Understand what?’ cried Isis. ‘What’s that horrible doctor done to you, Hopi? You’ve changed. You’ve become all dark and sly.’

Hopi looked shocked. ‘Don’t say that, Isis.’ He hesitated. ‘Listen. The reason I’m not telling you things is this. You think Hat-Neb and Nebo are kind and strong, and that they’ll look after you. But I’ve told you before: they’re not what you think. Last night I saw –’

Isis sprang to her feet. ‘You don’t know them like I do,’ she retorted. ‘That doctor has poisoned your mind against them. I’m going to tell Nebo about your snake.’

Hopi grabbed her arm. ‘Don’t you dare, Isis!’

Isis stared down at him, full of defiance. ‘You can’t stop me,’ she said.

She ran off down the deck to the back of the boat and looked out towards the riverbank, her feelings in turmoil. It was true that Hopi couldn’t make her keep quiet, but she had never been disloyal to him before. She hated arguing with him. But she didn’t know how to make him see that he was wrong. She folded her arms, wondering what to do. Maybe she wouldn’t speak to Nebo
just
yet.

She went into the cabin, where Sheri and Kia were playing their instruments softly. They stopped when Isis came in, and smiled.

‘Are you looking forward to your hunting trip, Isis?’ asked Sheri. ‘You’re not afraid of coming across any crocodiles? If you don’t want to go, just say so.’

‘I think Hat-Neb and Nebo will keep me safe,’ replied Isis. She looked at them anxiously. ‘They will, won’t they?’

‘Of course they will,’ said Sheri. ‘You’ll be fine.’

Isis smiled in relief. ‘I think it’s going to be fun. Why don’t you want to come?’

Kia laughed. ‘We’d rather sit here and relax,’ she said. ‘You and Mut go and enjoy yourselves.’

They seemed so happy and normal that Isis felt reassured. She kissed them both, then went back outside to find that Kerem had already hired two boats from local fishermen. The little craft were soon loaded up; Isis and Mut clambered in with Hat-Neb, Nebo and Killer the cat, while Kerem followed in the second boat with one of the crew. Isis sat close to Hat-Neb as Nebo began to paddle.

‘Are you ready, my daughter?’ Hat-Neb asked. ‘You will have a wonderful day today, I promise. And I won’t let anything harm you. You know that, don’t you?’

‘Yes.’ Isis nodded, and her anger at Hopi welled up once again. Hat-Neb was only ever kind and thoughtful. How could her brother think anything else?

.

Hopi watched his sister leave in the little boat. There was no doubt about it: Isis had mastered her fear of the river. He was glad for her, of course, but it still hurt, because this man Hat-Neb had driven such a wedge between them. He wondered if she would tell Nebo about the viper. Surely she wouldn’t really betray him?

With Kerem gone, the rest of the crew huddled together on the deck, muttering among themselves. Hopi noticed that the two men with the worst injuries were slumped against the rail of the boat. The one that Nebo had punched rocked backwards and forwards, twisting his lip, in a quiet, lost world of pain. For a second, Hopi caught his eye. It shook him. The man’s eyes blazed with anger.

Hopi didn’t know what to do. He spread his palms, then pointed up at the sky. ‘
The gods will help you
,’ he wanted to say. He must speak to Tutmose – surely he could do more for these men. But the doctor was not on the deck. Hopi glanced at the shore, and to his surprise, there was Tutmose, weaving his way between the vendors on the riverbank.

Where does he think he’s going?
Hopi thought to himself.

There was only one way to find out. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, Hopi scrambled down the boat’s ladder and followed him.

The riverbank was busy, with a bustling market and many people working on papyrus stems – soaking or splitting them, or pressing together the strips to form precious sheets for writing on. The doctor wound through the workers quickly, and Hopi cursed his limp as he left the market and headed along the narrow streets. Tutmose stopped to speak to someone, and Hopi slipped into a doorway. He could just hear the doctor’s voice.

‘My name is Imhotep, from the . . .’ He heard Tutmose say. ‘. . . do you know of . . .’

The rest was lost. Hopi frowned. Imhotep? Why was Tutmose giving another name?

A few more words drifted his way: ‘. . . of course, yes. I can pay very well.’

Hopi felt reassured. Tutmose must be getting more treatments for the injured men. He peeped around the doorway and saw that the doctor had set off again with a local man by his side. Hopi emerged from the doorway and followed, but people had begun to notice the strangers in their midst. Women stared as he limped along. Then, to his frustration, Tutmose turned down an alleyway and disappeared.

Hopi felt lost. He couldn’t just hang around. Reluctantly, he retraced his steps to the boat to wait. There, he found the crew sitting in the shade, their faces sullen. The injured men lay with their eyes closed. Hopi wished that Tutmose would hurry up.