The Deathstalker

by Gill Harvey

  ‘But you have found us at last,’ said Sheri. ‘It is a miracle for which I shall be forever thankful.’ She clutched her golden fly to her chest and burst into tears.

  .

  CHAPTER TEN

  Hopi gathered what was left of the herbs and placed them back in his bag. As he did so, he brushed his hand over his papyrus basket, and felt himself flush. What if these soldiers knew what he had inside? Hurriedly, he slung the bag over his shoulder.

  ‘Thank you, young priest,’ said an officer. ‘Tell me, how can we repay you?’

  ‘Oh.’ Hopi hadn’t thought of that. It was usually Menna who dealt with such things. He thought for a moment, and remembered the young Libyan, terrified and tied to a stake in the centre of the pit. Perhaps he could do something for him. ‘You have a prisoner,’ he said.

  The officer smiled. ‘We have more than a hundred prisoners.’

  ‘I mean, there’s one particular prisoner. He tried to escape and he was sent to the pit.’

  The officer immediately looked suspicious. ‘How do you know about that?’ he demanded. He took a step towards Hopi. ‘Who told you about the pit?’

  ‘No one. I mean . . .’ Hopi thought quickly. ‘My sister is one of the dancers who visited you. She told me what happened while she was here.’

  The officer narrowed his eyes and took another step towards Hopi. ‘Don’t I recognise you?’ he demanded. ‘Weren’t you here with her last night?’

  ‘No. I mean, yes.’ Hopi was sweating. He didn’t know what to say. ‘Yes. But I left with the troupe.’

  The officer shook his head. ‘No, I don’t think you did. I don’t remember seeing you then and I have a very good memory.’ He stroked his chin. ‘Something went missing in the course of the evening,’ he said. ‘Do you know what that was?’

  Hopi bowed his head. ‘Yes, I know,’ he managed to say. ‘I heard that you lost your scorpions.’

  The officer was studying him carefully. There was silence, and Hopi realised that all the officers were staring at him now.

  ‘You seem to know a lot about them,’ said one of them casually.

  Hopi’s heart started to yammer inside his chest. He thought of the deathstalkers lying in the depths of his basket, and wondered what the officers would do to him if they found them. But then he realised they had no reason to suspect him. He had helped the commander. He had acted as Menna would have wanted him to, and he drew himself up taller.

  ‘Yes, I know a lot about them,’ he said. ‘I am a servant of the goddess Serqet. I also know what you used those scorpions for, and see what has befallen your commander! Her creatures should never have been used in that way. Now see the power of her curse!’ He pointed down at Commander Meref. As they watched, his body twitched and juddered, but he did not regain consciousness.

  The threatening officer stepped back, now looking afraid.

  ‘The boy is right,’ muttered another. ‘We knew that this displeased the gods.’

  ‘Serqet has spoken,’ announced Hopi. ‘The charioteer Djeri also acknowledges that he has been punished.’

  ‘Djeri! You have seen him?’ the officer gasped. ‘Is he alive?’

  ‘I have been treating his injuries,’ said Hopi. ‘The goddess has spared him, but he will be scarred for life.’

  The officers looked stunned.

  ‘This boy knows too much,’ exclaimed one. ‘He wields too much power. I, for one, will accept what he has to say.’

  ‘And I also,’ said another.

  A ripple of agreement spread around the tent.

  ‘What must we do to halt the wrath of the goddess?’ asked the first.

  Hopi considered his words carefully. ‘From now on, your prisoners must be treated fairly. The pit must cease to exist,’ he said, then paused. ‘What has become of that Libyan?’

  ‘He is still awaiting punishment,’ an officer answered.

  ‘The terror he has endured is punishment enough,’ said Hopi. ‘Please return him to his fellow prisoners. If he has relatives, make sure that their fate is decided together, and is a just one.’

  The men around him looked at each other.

  ‘Is that all?’ asked one.

  Hopi nodded. ‘Yes.’

  He watched as relief spread slowly over their faces. It was nothing compared to the relief that he was feeling himself, but he tried not to let it show.

  He turned to go. ‘I must leave you now. I will return tomorrow. By then, you can be sure of the commander’s destiny one way or the other.’

  A guard escorted Hopi to the edge of the camp, and he set off for Waset as the afternoon sun began to drift towards the west. Before reaching the entrance to the town, he stopped and looked around. There was a rocky area just off the track and he walked towards it. It was time the deathstalkers were given their freedom.

  He crouched down and opened his bag, then lifted out his basket. Taking great care, he pulled off the lid and tipped the basket on one side, then waited for the scorpions to appear. Nothing happened. Hopi frowned and gave the basket a little shake. Still nothing. Curious, he picked it up and peered inside.

  There was nothing there. The basket was completely empty.

  .

  From the roof, Isis and Hopi stared out over the darkening sky, sharing a bowl of raisins between them.

  ‘I can’t believe you were there,’ said Isis. ‘Right there in the camp. Nes wouldn’t go and see the commander – he took me straight to his tent for the golden flies.’

  ‘Maybe he was wise not to,’ said Hopi. ‘Maybe he wants nothing to do with him. It sounds as though Nes is a good man.’

  ‘Yes, he is good,’ agreed Isis. ‘Imagine, he kept the flies all those years. Sheri and Kia have spent most of the day crying, but they are happy, I think.’

  Hopi nodded. ‘They must be.’

  Isis handed the rest of the raisins to her brother. She’d had enough. The day’s events had given her butterflies, and there was still more to come. Nes had invited her back to the camp to witness the distribution of the prisoners of war, and though she didn’t know whether to look forward to it or dread it, at least horrible Commander Meref would be in no fit state to make their lives any more miserable.

  ‘Could you come with me tomorrow?’ she asked her brother. ‘Back to the camp, I mean?’

  ‘I have to go back to see the commander,’ said Hopi.

  ‘So we can go together!’ Isis was delighted.

  ‘Well, maybe. I’ll need to talk to Menna first.’ Hopi frowned. ‘It’s very odd, the way I haven’t seen him all day. I hope nothing’s wrong. And it’s odd that my basket was empty, too.’

  Suddenly, Isis remembered something. ‘Hopi,’ she said slowly, ‘I think I may have seen him.’

  ‘You? Where? Was he in town?’

  Isis shook her head. ‘No. On my way out to the camp, I saw an old man in the distance.’ The more she thought about it, the more she was convinced. ‘I’m sure it was Menna.’

  ‘Menna, out in the desert? But why?’

  ‘You tell me, Hopi.’ Isis looked at him. ‘Don’t you think it was him who took the deathstalkers? Maybe he was releasing them out there.’

  ‘But he wouldn’t have had to go so far to do that.’ A strange look came into her brother’s eyes, and she saw that he was having the same thought as herself.

  ‘You don’t think he . . .’ Isis felt a thud of shock.

  ‘He couldn’t have.’ Hopi seemed just as flabbergasted.

  ‘He could, Hopi.’

  Hopi shook his head. ‘But . . .’

  Isis saw the first star appear in the sky above Waset. ‘He was all wrapped in linen against the sun and carrying his staff. It wouldn’t have been that difficult for an old man like him to get into the camp. He could have pretended to be sick, or perhaps a wandering prophet.’

  Hopi looked thoughtful. ‘I would never have imagined such a thing.’

  Isis shrugged. ‘Well, think about it,’ she said. ‘Maybe he felt that Serqet
needed a helping hand.’

  .

  Hopi woke at first light. He had much to do before going back to the camp with Isis, and first on his list was a visit to Menna. Surely Isis was wrong. Surely his tutor could not have taken the affairs of the gods into his own hands like that?

  The rest of the family was still sleeping. Quietly, he went down to the courtyard and splashed some water on to his face, then slipped out into the street. To his relief, his tutor’s door yielded to his push, and he let himself in. The first shafts of sunlight had just reached the courtyard, and Menna sat there cross-legged, basking in its rays.

  ‘Menna,’ said Hopi. ‘You’re back. I looked for you all day yesterday.’

  The old man nodded. ‘Yes. And I hear you were busy in my absence.’

  ‘You heard what happened? But how?’

  Menna smiled. ‘You know very well not to ask such questions, Hopi.’

  Hopi settled himself on the mats next to his tutor. ‘But . . .’ He shook his head, frustrated. ‘Admit that you released the deathstalkers, at least.’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘In the army camp? It was you, wasn’t it?’

  But Menna wouldn’t be drawn. ‘I spent some time in the desert,’ was all he would say. He touched Hopi’s arm. ‘Don’t get too comfortable there. I want you to get up again in a minute.’

  Hopi gazed at him. ‘Menna, tell me, please!’

  The old man’s wise, far-seeing eyes met his. ‘You did well yesterday, Hopi. I am proud of you. You are well on the way to entering the priesthood of Serqet.’

  ‘Thank you. I hope I shall serve her well.’ Hopi felt a thrill at Menna’s words, but he also knew, now, that his tutor would never admit where he had been the day before. Resigned, he got to his feet. ‘I shall do your bidding. I should hurry, because I’ve agreed to go back to check on the commander later.’

  Menna nodded. ‘Your errand should not take you too long. I want you to check on Djeri’s progress – and I want you to tell him something. Tell him that I am renewing the offer I made many years ago.’

  ‘The offer? What offer?’ Hopi was baffled.

  ‘He will know exactly what I mean.’

  Hopi thought back to the awful scene with Djeri the day before. He still didn’t know how to feel about it. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘But you know that it was he who caught Commander Meref’s deathstalkers?’

  Menna sighed. ‘Yes, I know.’

  ‘But how could he do such a thing, Menna? I wanted to think well of him, but how can I, when he did that?’

  The old priest looked thoughtful. ‘You are right to ask, Hopi. It is true that he strayed off the path, and the goddess was forced to punish him. But there is still hope for young Djeri. He understands what he has done, and he is sorry for it. What he needs now is not more suffering, but guidance.’

  Suddenly, Hopi had an inkling as to what the offer might be. His heart lifted, for if Menna could forgive Djeri, then so could he. ‘You are giving him a second chance.’

  ‘You will see. Go now,’ said Menna. ‘And may the gods go with you.’

  Hopi left and hurried to Djeri’s house. He found the soldier sitting up, eating a breakfast of bread and dates. He looked up as Hopi came in.

  ‘Welcome,’ Djeri greeted him.

  ‘You’re looking better,’ commented Hopi. ‘How does the leg feel?’

  ‘It itches,’ said the soldier.

  Hopi smiled. ‘Well, don’t scratch, whatever you do. I’ll check it for you when you’ve finished eating.’ He sat down and watched as Djeri polished off a flat loaf and popped another date into his mouth. ‘I have come with a message from Menna.’

  Djeri stopped chewing and looked at him warily. ‘Is that so?’

  ‘He says . . . he says he is renewing the offer that he made to you, many years ago.’

  The soldier swallowed, then sat very still. Hopi waited for what seemed like a long time. At last, Djeri spoke. ‘What do you think?’ he asked.

  Hopi shrugged. ‘I don’t know what he offered you. Though I think I can guess.’

  The soldier grimaced. ‘He asked me to become an apprentice priest of Serqet. Like you.’

  ‘I thought as much.’ Hopi nodded. ‘And you turned him down.’

  ‘Yes. I didn’t want to sit studying herbs and potions,’ said Djeri. ‘I wanted to be a man of action. Marching, horses, the heat of battle . . . I love it.’ He paused, and his expression grew sad. ‘I loved it, I mean.’

  Hopi understood, then, that Djeri had accepted his fate. He knew that he would never return to the army. ‘So will you say yes?’ he asked.

  Djeri looked at him. ‘I suppose it will mean working with you, won’t it?’

  ‘I’m afraid so.’

  The soldier extended his hand to Hopi. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘It seems that my fate is linked to Serqet, whatever my wishes may have been. I will say yes to Menna. And there are some compensations – I will be glad to call you my brother, and my friend.’

  .

  The atmosphere in the camp had changed overnight. Isis noticed it immediately. The sense of shock had been replaced with a buzz of excitement, and something in the air had lifted. She stood at the edge of the arena, listening to laughter and chatter as the soldiers began to gather. In the absence of Commander Meref, his second in command had taken control and was approaching the arena with an entourage of fellow officers. The chatter quietened down, and Isis glanced up at Nes standing by her side.

  ‘Is it going to start?’ she asked.

  Nes nodded. ‘Yes. As soon as the officers are seated, they will start bringing the prisoners.’

  Isis felt nervous. She wasn’t sure how much she really wanted to see people being handed out as property, but at the same time, she was too curious not to – especially where Neith and her brother were concerned.

  The officers sat down. A pair of trumpets sounded and the second in command stood up.

  ‘Company of Amun, servants of the king,’ he began, ‘you have fought well in recent weeks. Some of you have shown exceptional bravery. For that, you will be rewarded. But before our ceremony begins, I have an announcement to make.’

  He paused and seemed to be gauging the soldiers’ mood. Isis saw that they were listening intently, but without hostility.

  ‘Commander Meref can no longer serve us,’ said the second in command, and a murmur rippled through the assembly of soldiers. ‘It is my duty to take his place.’

  As he carried on speaking, someone nudged Isis, and she turned round quickly. It was Hopi.

  ‘How is the commander?’ she whispered. ‘Is he dead?’

  Hopi shook his head. ‘Not dead. But much weakened,’ he whispered back. ‘He is lucky to be alive.’

  ‘Thanks to you and your spells,’ said Isis.

  Hopi looked wry. ‘I suppose so. I’m not sure he deserved them.’

  ‘You did your duty,’ said Isis. ‘You must always do that.’

  The trumpets sounded again, and now Isis saw movement. The prisoners were approaching, escorted by guards. She felt almost sick with nerves. A scribe stepped forward and began to recite a list of soldiers: those who had fought bravely, those who were injured, those who had won awards and those who would receive slaves. It seemed to take for ever. The prisoners had come to a halt, and Isis craned her neck to see if she could spot Neith, but all she could see were men. She couldn’t even see Neith’s brother.

  At last the allocations began, and the prisoners were shuffled forward into the arena. Isis saw that the male prisoners had been divided up. There was now not one group, but three, with the women in a cluster behind them.

  ‘What do the groups mean?’ she whispered to Nes.

  He bent down to speak to her. ‘The strongest will be trained as soldiers. They will serve with us in the army,’ he said. ‘The second group will be sent to

  the quarries to work. The third group will become personal slaves – that’s reserved for old men and women.’

  I
sis felt a cold hand clutch her heart. So Neith was going to lose her brother, one way or another. She imagined being separated from Hopi and wanted to cry. Then the scribe caught her attention.

  ‘Where is Nes, the Lion?’ he called.

  Nes raised his hand. ‘I am here.’

  ‘Nes, as always, you have excelled yourself in battle,’ said the scribe. ‘Another slave is yours for the taking. Make your choice.’

  Nes stepped forward and addressed his fellow soldiers. ‘Thank you, comrades.’ He surveyed the slaves for only a second. ‘I have no doubt who to choose. I shall take the girl Neith. Where is she?’

  Isis gasped. So Neith would end up on Nes’s farm! She didn’t know whether to be happy or sad. She knew that the farming life was hard, especially for a girl on her own, but surely Nes would treat her kindly.

  The guards separated Neith out from the other women and she was pushed to the fore. Isis gazed at her sorrowfully. And then she realised that Nes was still speaking.

  ‘. . . But I don’t wish to keep her for myself. Long ago, I knew two soldiers who fought bravely and died on duty. Their wives have waited many years for a reward. And so Neith shall go to them, as their handmaiden.’

  Isis gripped Hopi’s arm. She couldn’t believe it. Neith was going to Sheri and Kia . . . ?

  ‘That means she’ll be living with us!’ she breathed.

  The scribe was busy noting it down. Then he frowned. ‘I’m not sure that’s possible,’ he said.

  Isis felt her heart was in her mouth. Surely there couldn’t be a problem?

  ‘By ordination of the priest of Serqet, this girl’s brother must be allocated at the same time,’ announced the scribe.

  ‘That’s easily resolved,’ said Nes. ‘Her brother is young and spirited. He is to become a soldier. But I will care for him personally and I’ll supervise his training myself. And he shall receive the same rights as any of us to see his family.’

  The scribe glanced across at the new commander. ‘Do you agree to this, sir?’

  Isis watched the man’s face. He was clearly trying to make up his mind.

  ‘Yes, it seems fair to me,’ he responded eventually.