The Sacred Scarab (10 page)

In a couple of bounds, he had wriggled over the top and scrambled down. He was in. He leaned against the wall, thinking through his actions the night before. In the fig grove, by the grain store and even by the house, he’d been moving very stealthily. He wouldn’t have lost the scarab then. But he’d had to dash to the wall and spring upwards; it was most likely that he’d lost it while climbing. He kneeled down and felt around again. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Frantic now, Hopi extended his search. Perhaps it had flown out of his bag and dropped a little further away. He scrabbled around, turning over pebbles and digging into the sand. It was no use. There was no sign of the scarab on this side of the wall, either.

Hopi knew he couldn’t put Isis at risk any longer. He hoisted himself back up the wall and managed to drop down on to his good leg. He looked up the road. He couldn’t see Isis, but the light was dimmer now. Perhaps she was hidden in shadow. Slowly, he walked up towards the gate.

It was shut, and Isis was nowhere to be seen.

.

When Isis heard the gate clank shut behind her, she kicked herself. She should never have let this happen. It had been going perfectly at first: she’d knocked, a guard had answered and, to her relief, it was a man she didn’t recognise – he was older, with a kindly face.

‘Hello,’ she said, ‘I’m going to see my uncle, but I think I’m lost.’

The guard smiled. ‘Oh dear, that won’t do,’ he said. ‘Do you know which way he lives?’

‘Not far from the temples of Ipet-Isut. He’s a scribe there, you see.’

‘Is he now?’ The guard looked impressed. ‘Well, you’re not too far off track. I can soon point you in the right direction. I’ll walk you up the road myself, if you can just hang on a few minutes.’

‘Thank you,’ said Isis. Waiting a few moments was fine by her – it would give Hopi all the time he needed. She smiled prettily. ‘So, who lives in this house?’

The guard laughed. ‘Most people know the answer to that question,’ he said. ‘But maybe you’re too young to care about tax collectors.’

‘You might be right,’ said Isis, laughing with him.

‘The work’s all right, though,’ the guard carried on. ‘I’m the day guard, so I go off duty at sunset. Any minute now, you see.’ He pointed up at the darkening sky, then beckoned her. ‘Just come inside for a minute. I have to go to the house to report that I’m leaving.’

His broad smile had reassured her and, without thinking, Isis had stepped through the gate. Then –
bang
. It had shut.

‘You sit here. Won’t be long,’ the guard called over his shoulder. ‘Here comes the night guard. He’ll look after you until I get back.’

‘I really need to go straight away –’ she began.

But it was too late. Isis felt her heart sink. The guard walking towards them was the one who’d been on duty the night before.

‘Well, if it isn’t our little dancer!’ He grinned. ‘Couldn’t keep away from us, hey?’ Then, to her horror, he called after his colleague, ‘Tell the boss his favourite dancer is here!’

‘No!’ Isis turned and pulled at the gate.

The guard put his weight against it, keeping it fast. He had stopped smiling. ‘I reckon Abana will be interested to find out what you’re doing here.’

Isis gave a trembling smile, and looked appealingly into the guard’s eyes. ‘Please,’ she whispered, ‘I was only passing by. Please don’t get me into trouble.’

But the guard was unmoved. ‘
I
haven’t done anything,’ he said. ‘Just my job, that’s all.’ He looked towards the house. ‘Well, well. What about that? Here comes the boss now.’

Isis felt sick. Abana was walking towards her. She made for the gate again, but it was hopeless: the guard would not let her pass.

‘Isis. How nice to see you,’ said Abana. There was a veiled threat in his voice. ‘I think you should come inside.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m not going to. Let me out.’

‘But it seems that you came to see me of your own accord,’ said Abana smoothly. ‘Now you’re in a hurry to leave. That’s very strange. I think we were talking of favours . . .’

‘I don’t want anything to do with you,’ she spat. ‘I know what you are. You’re a cheat and a thief.’

Abana’s face lost its oily smile. ‘Be careful what you say, little she-cat.’

‘What I say is the truth! You’ve got a store full of stolen grain,’ raged Isis. ‘You take everything from peasants who have lost their crops. You’ve no right to be the king’s servant.’

‘She must be silenced. Seize her.’ Abana’s voice was cold.

The guard made a lunge for Isis, but he hadn’t reckoned on her quick reactions. She ducked under his outstretched arm and ran. In the gathering dusk, she saw the grove of fig trees up ahead and sprinted for it. Her legs flying, she zig-zagged around castor bushes and tamarisk trees, feeling insects batting her cheeks. She reached the grove and dived in among the trees, off the pathway. Glancing back, she saw that she had seconds to spare.

Little she-cat
. . . she’d show him.

She leaped at a fig tree, grabbed its lower branches and swung herself up. Scraping her elbows and knees, she pushed herself higher. On a thick branch close to the trunk she stopped. She should be well hidden here. Gasping for breath, she tried to sit still among the broad, green leaves.

The guards crashed through the grove, calling and swearing. Isis thanked the gods that darkness was falling, so they could no longer see her faint footprints in the sandy soil. She leaned against the trunk and waited for silence.

‘She’s here somewhere! Find her!’ yelled Abana’s voice, somewhere close by.

But when the guards replied, they were well beyond the grove.

‘She must have got over the wall!’ one of them called back.

‘Damn her,’ Abana spoke under his breath. He was right next to her tree.

‘No sign of her, master.’ One of the guards was returning.

Abana began to move towards the house. ‘Leave it. Call off the search.’ His voice became a growl. ‘I’ll deal with this some other way.’

It was almost dark. Bats swooped and dived overhead. Isis knew that for now, all she could do was wait.

The minutes passed, and the darkness became thick and velvety. Then she heard something – a slight scraping – from the direction of the boundary wall. She listened.

‘
Isis!
’ Her brother’s voice was calling, very softly.

Swiftly, nimbly, Isis climbed down the tree and ran towards the sound.

‘
Isis!
’ came Hopi’s voice again.

She could just see the wall, with Hopi’s head peering over it. She waved frantically and leaped at it, scaling it in seconds. Then they were both down on the other side, hugging each other.

‘I thought he’d got you!’ exclaimed Hopi.

‘He almost did,’ said Isis. ‘I hid up a tree. Come on, let’s go.’

They ran up the street, Hopi half-hopping as he went.

‘Did you find the scarab?’ asked Isis, when they finally slowed to a walk again.

Hopi shook his head.

‘I knew you wouldn’t,’ said Isis. ‘But don’t worry, Hopi. Now I know what I’m going to do. I’ll get it back from Sinuhe, I promise.’

.

The rich smell of roasting mutton floated through the house as they entered. Hopi guessed it was Sheri’s idea; she was always the one who tried to cheer the household up, and there was nothing like good food to do that. They went through to the courtyard and found everyone apart from Paneb and Sinuhe gathered around the fire.

‘We’ve got mutton ribs!’ shouted Ramose, as Isis and Hopi joined them. ‘Sheri and Kia went to the market!’

Hopi sank down gratefully and took the hot, charred rib that Kia offered him. He sat gnawing it, feeling a little strength return. It had been a long day, and he had hardly eaten; the discovery that he had lost the scarab had taken away his appetite.

‘Who will take these up to Paneb?’ asked Sheri, removing some ribs from the fire.

There was a brief silence. Paneb would normally be eating with them, but since his row with Nefert, he was keeping himself apart. Hopi could still feel the tension in the air. He looked around at the awkward faces.

‘I will,’ he offered, throwing his bone back into the fire.

He stood, took the ribs from Sheri and carried them up the stairs. Paneb was sitting on his own on the roof, gazing out towards the Nile.

‘I’ve brought you some food.’ Hopi handed him the ribs.

‘Thank you, but I’m not hungry.’ Paneb sighed, and waved them away. ‘You eat them, my boy.’

‘No, no, I’m not very hungry, either.’

Paneb looked up at him. ‘Turning down good mutton? That’s not like you. Is something wrong?’

Hopi avoided the question. The two mutton ribs dangled from his fingers. ‘What should I do with them?’

‘Perhaps we should both make an effort. Come, sit.’ Paneb patted the mat next to him. ‘Let’s eat one rib each.’

Hopi lowered himself down next to his guardian. They ate in silence, ripping the thin shreds of meat from the bones. Paneb finished his, and threw the bone over the low roof wall for dogs or jackals to find.

‘I hope you’re happy living with us, Hopi,’ he said.

Hopi looked at him in surprise. ‘Of course.’

‘And your studies with Menna are going well?’

‘Yes,’ Hopi said, with a shrug. ‘But . . .’ The thought of facing Menna in the morning made him quail inside.

Paneb seemed to be studying him. ‘You don’t seem very grateful. Believe me, Hopi, you’ve been very lucky.’

‘I’m truly grateful, Paneb! It’s just that . . . I fear I’ve displeased Menna today. He set me a challenge and I’ve failed.’

‘It can’t be as bad as all that,’ said Paneb. ‘Tell me. Perhaps I can help.’

Hopi hesitated. He still couldn’t bring himself to admit the loss of the amulet. Quickly, he thought of something else.

‘He sent me out into the fields to observe the life of the scarab,’ he said, feeling bad, even though he was telling a truth. ‘I watched them making dung balls and pushing them into their burrows. But Menna told me that this is only one half of their cycle. I haven’t seen the magical half.’

‘You don’t know what happens?’ Paneb sounded surprised. ‘Is that what’s bothering you?’

Hopi didn’t want to tell an outright lie. ‘He said I should go and find out, but I haven’t.’

Paneb chuckled. ‘All that knowledge of snakes and scorpions, and you don’t know the ways of the simple scarab.’

In spite of himself, Hopi was curious. ‘So what happens?’

In the darkness, his guardian fingered the amulet he wore around his neck. Hopi knew it was a simple faience scarab with a blue glaze; nothing unusual.

‘Out of that ball of dung, new life springs forth,’ said Paneb. ‘This is the scarab’s power. It creates itself out of nothing, out of dung and earth.’

‘You’ve seen this?’

Paneb nodded. ‘It’s an extraordinary sight, the young scarabs coming out of the ground. I am surprised you haven’t seen it, Hopi.’

Hopi thought about this. He had grown up in the town, where snakes and scorpions made their way into people’s houses and granaries. And he had spent long hours on the fringes of the desert, hunting for more of the same. He had spent
some
time in the fields, of course, looking for snakes among the crops . . . Then it dawned on him.

‘You grew up on farmland, Paneb?’

His guardian went quiet for a long, long time. Then Hopi felt the man’s hand on his arm.

‘Yes, Hopi,’ he said. ‘I can no longer deny it, much as I’ve tried. I grew up toiling in the fields with my family. With Sinuhe. I was born as nothing but a peasant.’

.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Isis was struggling to stay awake. She was tired, but if she dozed off, all would be lost – she’d be fast asleep right through to the morning. She
had
to stay awake; she had it all planned. She lay back and watched the stars shifting slowly across the sky. The moon had risen, casting ghostly shadows over the softly breathing bodies around her. Paneb was snoring on one side of the roof. Everyone else was quiet; they seemed to be sleeping, too.