The Spitting Cobra (9 page)

They turned to leave. It was only as they stepped back out into the street that Isis noticed Hopi’s expression. Her brother’s face was frozen in shock.

.

Hopi was still trying to take it all in. That boy who had served the sweet pastries . . . Hopi would recognise his face anywhere – and that of his master, too.

‘What is it? What is it?’ Isis whispered.

Hopi shook his head, mute. He didn’t dare speak in front of Heria and Mut. The man he had seen on the mountain the day before was none other than Foreman Baki. But what could it possibly mean? It didn’t make sense.

They hurried back up the main street to the house where Paneb and Nefert were staying, and Heria banged on the door.

Nefert and Paneb were sitting on the floor with their hosts and their two young boys, eating breakfast. Mut rushed to Nefert, and flung herself into her arms.

‘Mother, the party’s been cancelled!’ she cried.

‘Cancelled?’ Nefert and Paneb spoke at once.

‘One of the village men has been attacked by a cobra!’ Mut buried her head on Nefert’s shoulder. ‘They say there’s a fearful cobra goddess, and she’s angry with everyone, and they’re all afraid of her vengeance . . . it’s horrible. I don’t like it here, Mother. I want to go home!’

‘A cobra!’ Nefert’s voice was sharp, and she immediately looked at Hopi. ‘You didn’t have anything to do with this, I hope?’

‘No! No. I mean, I knew what had happened . . .’ Hopi was aghast.

‘He did.’ Mut sat up again. ‘He knew all about it before we did! He said it was a spitting snake and he was out there doing things with a flagon of beer, everyone saw him –’ Mut’s eyes were wild and accusatory.

Hopi’s heart went cold. It was no use. He was going to have to accept the truth: the family would not tolerate him and his interests.

‘I was doing no harm. I was trying to help,’ he said quietly, but he didn’t expect anyone to listen.

There was silence. Then Paneb looked around at the row of faces. ‘Who told you that the party has been cancelled?’ he asked.

‘Nakht himself, sir,’ said Heria. ‘He and Baki and my father sent us to tell you.’

‘Then there is nothing more to be said. We shall leave at once.’ Paneb got to his feet and turned to his hosts. ‘We are grateful for your hospitality, but these troubles are nothing to do with us. We shall pack our belongings and head back to Waset before noon.’

Hopi looked at Nefert, who was still clutching Mut close to her. What was she thinking? Would she ever truly accept him? It seemed less likely with every day that passed.

‘Isis, Hopi, go and tell Sheri and Kia what has happened,’ Paneb instructed them. ‘I will go and fetch Happy from his tethering post. I want everyone to gather their belongings and be ready to leave as soon as possible.’

Hopi and Isis turned and left the house. As soon as they were outside, Isis tugged on Hopi’s arm.

‘So what was it?’ she demanded. ‘What did you see in Baki’s house?’

But Hopi wouldn’t answer. What did any of it matter? His heart was heavy, for he was sure that their days with the family were numbered. He and Isis would have to return to begging on the streets. Foreman Baki was not his concern.

‘Nothing,’ he muttered, and started limping up the street.

‘Hopi! You saw something! I
know
you did.’ Isis skipped alongside him. She lowered her voice. ‘We can’t leave the village now. We know too much.’

‘And what will we live on if we stay?’ asked Hopi, his voice bitter. ‘Tell me, Isis. Will we live on the air, or the earth between the rocks?’

They reached the house where Sheri and Kia were staying, and knocked.

.

Back at Heria’s house it had taken Isis five minutes to gather together her things. She had very few. Hopi had even fewer, and had gone to say goodbye to Seti and Rahotep. Mut had stayed behind to help Nefert with the two boys; once she came back to the house of Khonsu for her own things, it would be time to leave.

With her little linen bag at her feet, Isis sat down with Heria to wait.

‘I wish you weren’t going,’ said Heria. ‘I’m going to miss you.’

‘I wish I wasn’t going, either,’ said Isis glumly. It was so frustrating. She was dying to tell Heria all about the tomb, but she didn’t dare. Instead, she thought about the bracelet on Tiya’s arm. As Hopi had said, it could have come from the royal tomb. It certainly looked like it. She thought for a moment. Asking questions couldn’t do any harm, could it?

‘Heria,’ she said, ‘where did Tiya get that bracelet she was wearing?’

Heria’s eyes flew wide open. ‘What bracelet?’

‘She was wearing a gold bracelet at the party,’ said Isis. ‘You told her to take it off.’

‘Oh, yes. I’d forgotten you’d seen it.’ Heria looked frightened. ‘You won’t tell anyone about it, will you?’

Isis leaned forward. ‘Why? What’s the big secret?’

‘I don’t know,’ Heria whispered. ‘I don’t know what Father’s been investigating, but I think it’s got something to do with the royal tombs.’

Isis couldn’t resist. ‘You think the bracelet was stolen?’ she suggested.

Heria nodded. ‘Yes. I think one of the tombs has been robbed. I can’t believe that Tiya had anything to do with it but . . . I told her to hide it anyway.’

‘But didn’t you ask her where she got it?’ demanded Isis. ‘
I
would have done.’

‘Of course I did.’ Heria looked hurt. ‘She just says the same thing every time.’

‘I remember. She said it was a gift from her brother,’ Isis recalled.

‘Yes. And now Meretseger has punished Seti,’ said Heria, her big eyes looking sad and thoughtful. ‘So I don’t know what to think. I hate to think that either of them would do anything wrong.’

‘But what’s Seti got to do with Tiya?’ asked Isis.

Now Heria’s eyes filled with astonishment. ‘You don’t know?’ she exclaimed. ‘It was Seti who gave Tiya the bracelet.
He’s
her brother, of course!’

.

The rich smell of onions was everywhere. It was the first thing that struck Hopi as he entered Rahotep’s house. Then he saw them, too – strings of onions hanging from doorways, and a whole sack by the side of the storeroom.

A servant showed him to the back of the house. ‘You must stay very quiet and watch. Do not interrupt,’ he instructed Hopi.

Hopi peered into the back room, which was lined with pots and jars and yet more onions; herbs were piled in one corner. A strange scene was beginning to unfold. Seti lay on the floor, his face wrapped in linen bandages; by his side lay a beaker of liquid and a large bowl. Rahotep stood over him, his arms outspread, chanting an incantation with his eyes shut.

‘Flow out, poison! Come forth,’ he intoned. ‘Horus will cast you out. He will spit you out and punish you. Flow out, poison! Flow out!’

He bent down and touched Seti’s bandaged eyes, then stood and chanted again. ‘Come forth! Cast yourself upon the ground. This is not your place. Flow out, poison! Flow out!’

Suddenly, Seti sat up, his stomach heaving. Quick as a striking snake, Rahotep reached for the bowl and placed it in front of his patient. When he had finished vomiting, Seti lay back down with a groan.

Rahotep turned, and saw Hopi in the doorway. ‘Welcome,’ he said. He bent down to pick up the bowl and the beaker. ‘Come, we will go to the courtyard now. The potion has done its work. Seti can rest.’

He led the way outside, handing the bowl to a servant. The beaker, however, he handed to Hopi. ‘Taste it,’ he said.

Hopi sniffed it first. Strong, acrid smells repelled him, and he jerked back.

‘Go on,’ Rahotep encouraged him. ‘I want you to tell me what is in it.’

Gingerly, Hopi took a sip. ‘Onions,’ he said. ‘Many of them. Beer, and salt. And something I don’t recognise.’ He handed the beaker back. The liquid was foul.

Rahotep smiled. ‘The taste you cannot place is the
sam
-plant,’ he said. ‘But otherwise, well done. This potion makes the victim vomit, as you have seen.’

Hopi was intrigued, but also puzzled. Why was Rahotep telling him all this?

‘Thank you for showing me, sir,’ he said. ‘But the party of Baki has been cancelled, and we have no reason to stay. I just wanted to see Seti before I go.’ He hesitated. ‘Will he ever get his sight back, do you think?’

‘That rests in the hands of the gods. Or the goddesses, I should say,’ said Rahotep. He put a hand on Hopi’s shoulder. ‘I have done all I can. But you did more.’

Hopi blushed. He looked away, and spotted a statue of a woman in the corner of the courtyard, with the figure of a scorpion carved on her head. ‘Is that a statue of Serqet, sir?’ he asked.

‘It is.’

Hopi felt drawn to the little statue, and stepped forward to look at it more closely. Its eyes seemed to meet his gaze, and he felt a warm tingle run up and down his spine.

‘Do you still have your amulet?’ enquired Rahotep.

‘Yes, of course.’ Hopi patted his linen bag, where the faience scorpion lay resting in its depths.

The priest of Serqet smiled. ‘You did not receive it by chance,’ he said.

Hopi felt his heart beat a little faster. ‘Then how?’

‘You have been chosen by the goddess to be one of her servants,’ answered the priest. ‘Of this I am more than sure.’

Hopi’s mouth dropped open. A servant of the goddess Serqet? But he had only just heard of her. ‘How . . . what . . .’ he stuttered.

But now Rahotep raised a hand to silence him. He was listening – listening to a commotion that was growing outside. Hopi heard it, too: footsteps and the babble of many voices. They drew closer, closer . . . then came a hammering on the front door.

The servant reappeared. ‘Shall I open it, sir?’ he asked Rahotep.

‘Of course, of course.’

Rahotep moved to where he could see the door. Curious, Hopi stood behind him. When it opened, his eyes widened: this was a serious visit indeed. Outside on the street stood Nakht, Baki and Khonsu, surrounded by a retinue of guards.

.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Isis was still reeling from the news. Seti and Tiya . . . brother and sister. Tiya’s broken arm . . . the cobra’s attack on Seti . . . and the golden bracelet that must have come from
somewhere
. Surely they had to be guilty? But Heria seemed so upset at the thought of it that Isis could find nothing to say.

‘Isis, we have to go.’ It was Mut, standing in the doorway. ‘Everyone is ready. Where’s Hopi?’

Isis stood up reluctantly. ‘He’s at the house of Rahotep,’ she said.

‘You mean the snake man?’ Mut frowned. ‘What’s he doing there?’

‘He went to see Seti.’

Mut’s face darkened. ‘Why would he want to see a man who’s been punished by the gods? Why can’t he just leave it all alone?’

It was too much for Isis. ‘Why can’t
you
try to understand him for once?’

Mut stalked into the room and snatched up her few belongings. ‘I don’t want to understand him. I hate snakes and I hate scorpions. So does Mother. You heard what she said.’

Isis felt as though Mut had hit her, hard, in the middle of her stomach.

‘We’re going,’ Mut carried on. ‘Mother and Father are waiting for us. They want to leave
now
. If you don’t come and meet us quickly we’ll just leave you here.’

Isis felt fury flare up. ‘And that’s exactly what you want, isn’t it?’ she cried. ‘You want to get rid of us. You’ve wanted it right from the start! You hate Hopi and you hate me, too! Go on, then! Go! Leave us here!’ She grabbed her linen bag. ‘Hopi and I have looked after ourselves before. We’ll do it again, if we have to!’ And she ran out into the street with sobs rising in her throat.

She ran towards the main gate along the busy street where villagers stood outside their houses, sweeping their doorways and gossiping.

‘Please,’ asked Isis, stopping briefly to address an elderly woman, ‘where is the house of Rahotep?’