Orphan of the Sun (25 page)

‘That's not true!' exclaimed Meryt. ‘I see the bust of my father every day and it still seems sacred to me.'

Kha studied her, his smile dying. ‘You are a strange young woman, Meryt-Re,' he murmured. ‘First I was struck by how well you play the lyre. Now you have entered my workplace, where young women never intrude. What is it that has brought you here?'

Meryt let her eyes wander over the paintings for a moment, uncertain where to start, then bowed her head. ‘I have dreams,' she blurted, before she could stop herself. ‘I see things that others do not see.'

She looked up, and saw that wariness had come across the painter's gentle features.

‘And what have your dreams been telling you?' he asked quietly.

Meryt took a deep breath. Now that she had started, there was no point in holding back. ‘What I know concerns the draughtsman Userkaf,' she told him. ‘He is using power that does not belong to him.'

Kha's eyebrows shot up. He stared at Meryt intently. ‘Go on.'

Meryt paused. She knew she had to choose her words with great care. ‘You are his friend,' she said. ‘You know him well.'

Kha folded his arms. His friendliness had gone. ‘What are you trying to say?' he demanded. ‘Yes, I am a friend of Userkaf's. You are treading on slippery ground, young Meryt. What is it that you want from me?'

A gust of wind blew down the shaft and the lamps sputtered, casting eerie shadows around the tomb. Meryt felt a shiver run down her spine, for she could not escape while Kha was standing in front of the shaft. How foolish she had been! Perhaps Nofret's tale was true. The man who stood before her might be dangerous – and she was trapped with him in a tomb that could all too easily become a place of darkness. She looked around, mute with fear, knowing there was no other exit.

‘I …' Her voice came out in a squeak and she cleared her throat. ‘I have seen that the gods have pardoned you.'

Kha took a step towards her, and Meryt backed away. ‘Pardoned me for what?' he demanded. ‘What is it that you know?'

There were beads of sweat on Meryt's forehead, for there was much that she believed, but little that she actually knew. She decided to take a gamble. ‘Userkaf offered you riches,' she said, the words coming out breathlessly. ‘Bribes. He offered them to others too. But you were the only one to refuse.'

Her heart thudded painfully against her chest as she watched his reaction. Kha's face remained neutral and calm.

‘And what else?' he asked.

Meryt wondered whether to mention the amulets, but an instinct warned her not to. ‘Just that the gods have pardoned you,' she repeated. ‘Please do not harm me, Kha.'

‘Harm you!' The painter shook his head.

Meryt let out her breath in relief. So she was safe, at least.

‘I am more concerned that you may harm yourself,' the painter continued. ‘What you talk about is a serious matter.'

Meryt fingered the new, heavy amulet around her neck. She nodded. ‘I know,' she said. ‘I did not ask for the gift of dreams.'

Kha stroked his chin. ‘The gods must surely be with you,' he admitted. ‘It is true Userkaf has bribed many of the men. In return, they give him their support. He has done well, for his offers are generous.'

‘But you stood alone, and refused the temptation.'

‘Yes, I refused,' said Kha. ‘But Userkaf has my support, all the same.'

Meryt frowned. To usurp a foreman appointed by the vizier was against all the principles of truth and justice by which they lived. If Kha was trying to undermine him, he was defying the will of the gods despite refusing the bribes. ‘Is Nebnufer such a terrible foreman?' she asked. ‘Does he deserve this treachery?'

Kha said nothing but looked uneasy, and Meryt realised she had touched his conscience. The image
of her dream flashed before her once again: the painter standing alone wearing a ragged loincloth, his painter's palette worn out. And suddenly she knew what she had to say. ‘You imagine that Userkaf will be a good foreman, don't you?' she said. ‘You think he will treat you all better than Nebnufer, and act with wisdom and justice. This is foolishness. Userkaf's tools are betrayal and deception, and that will never change. How do you think he will treat someone who refused to accept his bribes?'

She paused. Kha was standing very still, and she knew that her meaning had hit home. ‘The gods have pardoned your treachery,' she carried on. ‘But the pardon brings with it a price. Nebnufer's future depends on the vizier and what is said at the trial. It rests in your hands, Kha.'

Kha's expression grew cold as he realised what she was saying. ‘You are telling me to speak out,' he said. He snorted, and shook his head. ‘Userkaf is my friend. So are the others. What they are doing is wrong, but …' he spread his hands. ‘You do not know what you are saying, young Meryt,' he finished.

Meryt moved towards the tomb shaft. Kha allowed her to pass, and she placed her foot on the first narrow step. ‘I cannot make you do anything,' she said, meeting the painter's gaze. ‘All I can say is that I have seen that the gods are with you. Do not be afraid to do what you know is right.'

Then, after one last look around the half-painted
tomb, she turned and began to clamber up the narrow shaft towards the daylight.

The morning air seemed fresh and wholesome as she emerged in the unfinished courtyard. Meryt took deep, long breaths and stretched her limbs. She hadn't noticed it at the time, but now that she was above ground she realised that the air in the tomb had been hot and oppressive from the mixture of stale breath and burning linen wicks. She sat in a patch of sunlight and closed her eyes, glad that she was not a man, and would never have to work in the tombs.

So she had been right. Userkaf had bribed his fellow-workmen to gain their support, having sold the precious amulets to traders. It did not answer the question of the stolen copper tools, but it was a start. She could only hope that Kha would act on what she had told him, for without the evidence of a workman Nebnufer stood no chance.

The sound of sandals crunched on the limestone pathway and a shadow fell across her face. She opened her eyes, and gasped.

‘Ramose!'

The stonecutter was looking down at her with a perplexed expression. ‘I have often hoped to come across you, but I never thought it would be here,' he said.

Meryt scrambled to her feet. ‘I was just going,' she said. ‘I only came to … to …' she trailed off, not wishing to reveal the reason for her visit.

Ramose lowered a bag of tools from his bulky
shoulders, and shook his head. ‘I am sorry I cause you such fear,' he said. ‘I never meant to. Please don't go.'

He seemed so mild and unthreatening, and Meryt's curiosity began to get the better of her. ‘It is not
fear
, exactly,' she said slowly, toying with her amulet.

‘No. You just don't want to be near me,' said Ramose, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. ‘It hasn't been difficult to work out. I am not the kind of man you thought you'd end up with. Right?'

Meryt hung her head in embarrassment. ‘I … suppose so,' she admitted, then felt doubly awkward – both for herself and on his behalf. How could he expose himself this way with her? Didn't the man have pride? ‘I'm sorry, Ramose.'

‘Well, you needn't worry,' he said. ‘It wasn't what I really wanted either.'

‘Wasn't …!' Meryt's mouth dropped open. ‘What do you mean?'

Ramose met Meryt's gaze for a second, then looked away hastily and scratched the back of his head. ‘I would have been good to you, though,' he mumbled.

‘You would have …
What?'
Meryt closed her mouth again with a snap, a sense of outrage building up inside her. She thought of the agonies she had been through: the prayers to the goddess Hathor, the offering to her father, her fear of Senmut and the endless hours pondering her dream. ‘My whole life rested on this and all you can say is that you would
have been good to me, as though I were a … a … donkey or a she-goat!'

Ramose looked up, his big, doe-like eyes defensive. ‘I tried to talk to you,' he said. ‘You ran away. I wanted to let you know the truth.'

‘The truth! That I'm the best wife you could find, said Meryt bitterly. ‘
She'll do
, is that what you thought?'

The stonecutter's features twisted with hurt. ‘No. It wasn't like that.'

‘So what was it like?' cried Meryt. ‘Do you know what I've been through because of this? My uncle Senmut wanted to get rid of me. You came along with your offer and he jumped at it. I had to fight tooth and nail for time to think about it and then … and then …' Her voice quaked as she thought about Baki. ‘And then he found another excuse and got rid of me anyway.'

‘I'm sorry,' said Ramose, his face sorrowful. ‘I do mean it, you know.'

But Meryt was angry, and a momentary streak of cruelty rose within her. ‘Do you always do what your mother tells you?' she asked.

Ramose recoiled as though he'd been slapped, and Meryt regretted her words at once. The stonecutter bit his lip. ‘You don't understand,' he said. He tried to smile, but he now seemed too upset.

‘Why?' asked Meryt, more gently. ‘Please tell me.'

The stonecutter took a deep breath. ‘The offer was genuine. I would have married you in honour of
your father. It was him that I loved, you know.'

Peshedu
. Meryt stared at the stonecutter as his words sank in, taking her breath away. How could this be? What was Ramose talking about? She shook her head, bewildered. ‘You … you knew him?' she whispered. ‘But you are only young.'

‘He died when I was seven,' said Ramose. ‘Until then I loved him well.'

Meryt licked her lips, which felt suddenly dry. She was lost for words. ‘And …?' she managed – for surely there was more.

‘We both did.' Ramose scuffed his sandal against a boulder, staring at his feet. ‘Mother and I.'

‘You …' Meryt gulped at the words.

Ramose looked up again, his expression frank. He seemed relieved to have got things off his chest. He picked up his bag of tools as though the matter were closed. ‘Well, now you know,' he said, with a brief smile. ‘May the gods be with you, Meryt-Re.'

And he walked off towards the northern end of the cemetery.

Chapter Twelve

Meryt watched the stonecutter disappear down one of the tomb shafts, feeling slightly light-headed. She was not sure which had been the greater shock – the revelation that Ramose did not really want her, or the thought that her father and Heria had … what? What? She stamped her foot in frustration and began to hurry away from the tombs, scattering stones as she leapt down the path.

She did not want to face the heaviness that Ramose's words had created in her chest. To know that he would not pursue her further should have brought her relief – and it had, to some extent. But the thought that he had never wanted her in the first place was a blow, an unexpected blow, for if Ramose did not want her – bumbling, podgy Ramose – then what hope could there possibly be for her?

It was all too much. She passed through the western gate and stamped along the streets in fury. ‘How dare he,' she muttered to herself, trying to ignore the choking feeling in her throat and the stinging tears at the corners of her eyes.

Best to forget it all right away. He was only an ugly useless stonecutter! She would follow Teti's advice: in times of trouble, keep your hands working. She would go to the
rekhet
's house and make herself busy for the rest of the day.

Teti had returned from her early morning foray and was chopping herbs as Meryt walked in.

‘Can I help?' Meryt demanded, her voice abrupt, for she did not want the
rekhet
to see her distress.

Teti looked up and smiled. ‘Later, perhaps.' She nodded in the direction of the staircase. ‘You have a visitor.'

Meryt was not in the mood for any more surprises. She gazed at the staircase resentfully, as though it might move and engulf her.

‘Go on up,' laughed Teti. ‘He is harmless, I assure you.'

‘He?' Meryt squinted up at the edge of the roof, where a little figure now stood looking down at her. It was Mose. He waved and beckoned, a happy smile on his lips.

Despite herself, Meryt was pleased to see her cousin. She grinned, and climbed up the steps to greet him with a hug. ‘Mose, it's good to see you. Is everything well?' she asked him. ‘Did you give your mama the amulet?'

Mose gazed up at her, his eyes dancing. ‘Yes,' he said. ‘It made her happy, Meryt. She sent me to find you.'

‘Oh!' Meryt felt gladness swell up, followed quickly
by doubt. ‘Could she not come herself?'

Mose grinned at her. ‘She doesn't need to,' he said. ‘I've come to fetch you instead.'