“Thank you,” said Meryt-Re, unrolling it. The papyrus was crammed with hieroglyphs. “Are you sure it says what it is supposed to say?”
“It is my own work,” said Neferhotep, with a lift of his chin.
“It’s very nice,” she assured him.
“And I almost forgot this, too,” said Neferhotep. “My apologies.”
He pulled something from underneath his leopard skin and gave it to Ramose.
“Ah, yes,” said Ramose. “You showed it to Ka-Aper?”
“Yes. It’s why he wanted to see more. He asked if he could keep it, since it is a sign sacred to Amon-Ra, but I had to tell him no.”
“As well,” said Ramose. “I made this for a very special young lady. I was going to wait for your birth anniversary.” He glanced at Meryt-Re, who rolled her eyes.
“Oh, all right,” she said, “but please be quick about it.”
“Can you guess who this is for?” asked Ramose, smiling at Jennifer.
She shook her head, bewildered.
“For my beautiful daughter,” said Ramose. He allowed the item to fall from his hand, where it dangled, spinning in the sunlight.
Jennifer gasped. The amulet!
The scarab amulet! Jennifer’s memory flooded back. Grandma Jo—the museum—the tomb painting—the hieroglyphs—the dust inside the amulet, blowing into her face…and the dizzying tumble through the sparkling darkness. Then waking up to find herself…here.
In…
In ancient Egypt.
The amulet had caused her to travel through time.
Jennifer swayed, nearly falling.
“Are you all right?” asked Meryt-Re, steadying her with one hand.
“I’m, uh, fine,” said Jennifer.
“Just tired, I imagine,” said Ramose, smiling fondly at her. “I had to carry her in from the garden last night,” he told Neferhotep. “She was fast asleep, with her head in the herbs. I couldn’t even wake her.”
“Truly?” asked Neferhotep. Jennifer glanced at him. He was staring at her with an odd expression. “Were you stargazing again last night?”
“Uh, yes,” she said, remembering what Meryt-Re had mentioned earlier.
“It’s all right, Neferhotep,” said Meryt-Re. “You know she’s been doing that since she was three years old. Nothing bad has ever happened.”
“I know,” said Neferhotep, sighing. “But I do worry. The Walkers of the Night. . .”
Ramose laughed. “The demons? Oh, Neferhotep.”
“They do exist,” said Neferhotep, solemnly.
“Well, we’ve never had a problem. Besides, you put protective spells around the garden years ago, and you renew them every year. Nothing could get in.”
“I suppose. And Miw would warn you if one did. It’s time I renewed those spells, though.”
“As you wish,” said Ramose.
“We would appreciate that,” said Meryt-Re, with a glance at her husband. “We appreciate everything you do for us. Not everyone has a priest of Amon-Ra in the family.”
Neferhotep shrugged.
“If you are truly worried, then perhaps this will help,” said Ramose, lifting the amulet. He lowered the thong over Jennifer’s head, and it settled in front of her chest with a comforting weight. She had recognized it instantly, though in this time it was still bright and clean. She gripped it in her fist. It felt right, like something she had been meant to wear.
“Thank you,” she said to Ramose.
“And look,” he said. “It is not just a heart scarab.” He gestured for her to let go of the amulet. “Do you see the latch? Ah, my clever child. You open it like you already knew how.”
Jennifer pried the amulet open a little way. She hesitated, then held her breath and pulled it apart.
“See?” said Ramose. “It is hollow.”
Jennifer let her breath trickle out. It was empty. She hadn’t been sure what would happen when the amulet opened. She ran a finger around the inside, which had been polished smooth.
What had Grandma Jo thought, when she disappeared? Or—maybe she hadn’t.
They were calling her ‘Dje-Nefer,’ and they didn’t seem surprised to see her. Maybe, when she traveled through time, she had somehow ended up in someone else’s body—Dje-Nefer’s. This body had different skin and hair…perhaps it wasn’t her own. She remembered how she had felt when she woke up.
That meant Dje-Nefer could be in her body, back in her own time. She shook her head. No. Forward in her own time. Jennifer shivered, feeling the long black hair brush her shoulders.
“What’s the matter, Dje-Nefer?” asked Meryt-Re.
Jennifer looked at her, then at the others. Ramose was still smiling at her. Neferhotep’s eyes narrowed, as he watched her.
Should she tell them? That she had traveled through time, and wasn’t really Dje-Nefer? She doubted they would believe her. She wasn’t sure she entirely believed it herself.
No. They would laugh. They might even think she was some sort of demon, like this Neferhotep fellow was so worried about.
She gave them a weak smile. “Just tired, like you said.”
“Did you dream?” Neferhotep asked abruptly.
“Uh…yes,” said Jennifer, startled into remembering. “There was a man…I think…with a white, uh, crown. Split into two sections.”
Neferhotep’s painted eyebrows shot up. “Amon-Ra!”
“There, you see,” said Ramose. “Nothing to worry about. If Amon-Ra is coming to my daughter in her dreams, then she is well-protected. He and this scarab will keep her safe.”
“Well…that is so,” said Neferhotep. Now he looked at Jennifer with an entirely different expression. Thoughtful, even respectful. “Dreams are powerful omens, you know.”
“That’s true,” said Meryt-Re, “but if you wish to discuss this any further with Dje-Nefer, it will have to wait, Neferhotep. We must get to the market.”
“Yes, of course,” said Neferhotep. “I didn’t mean to delay you. But, if you don’t mind—I’d like to offer more protection for your daughter, in the form of a spell. Will you allow me to do that?”
“Certainly,” said Meryt-Re.
“Good. It may take me some weeks to concoct, however,” said Neferhotep. “I will go and return at sunset, with Ka-Aper. May Amon-Ra watch over you all.”
He bowed and left the kitchen. Ramose followed, then came back alone.
“Now,” said Meryt-Re, business-like, “we must get going. Mentmose, I need you to go to the river and fill the water jar.”
Mentmose scowled. “But father was going to show me how to make tjehnet today.”
“It will have to wait. I will probably need your help this afternoon to do the cooking, too.”
“But,” said Mentmose. “Oh, all right.”
Ramose clapped him on the shoulder. “We would need more water to make the paste anyway. Help your mother today. We can grind the turquoise and the clay for the tjehnet tomorrow. Besides, it might be wise for you to learn some cooking skills.”
“That’s for girls,” scoffed Mentmose.
“Yes, but it is still worth learning,” said Ramose. “Now I must be off to my workshop to choose which pieces I should present to the honorable Ka-Aper.”
Mentmose sighed. Hefting the water jug onto his hip, he headed for the doorway.
“I think we’ll take two baskets,” said Meryt-Re. “I’ll carry one and you can carry the other, Dje-Nefer.”
She plucked two woven baskets out of the pile, one of which she had slung over her arm. She handed the other to Jennifer. Meryt-Re rummaged on the shelves and proceeded to fill her basket with several flat round pastries that looked something like cinnamon buns.
“There. We can go now,” said Meryt-Re. “Oh, wait—why haven’t you put any kohl on your eyes yet? Oh, never mind. I’ll get some.”
She left, and Jennifer could hear her trotting up the stairs. It was only a minute before she was back, carrying a small clay pot and a brush. With quick, expe
rt strokes, she outlined Jennifer’s eyes with a sticky black paint. It dried instantly, but itched. Jennifer had to stop herself from rubbing at it.
“Don’t you smudge that,” said Meryt-Re, holding up a warning hand. “All right, let’s go.”
She picked up her basket, and Jennifer followed her into the larger room, which had a wide wooden door set into one wall. As she opened it, a blast of noise from the street poured into the room.
People streamed past in both directions. Most of them wore Egyptian-style outfits like Ramose and Meryt-Re, but there were also men and women wearing baggy tunics and head scarves, or outfits of gaudy fabric wrapped around their bodies, or short woolen kilts and vests. Some even wore shining helmets and pieces of armor. A group of children ran by, all of them naked. The boys’ heads were shaved bald, except for one long lock that dangled from the right side.
As she and Meryt-Re stepped outside, Jennifer blinked in the bright sunlight. It nearly blinded her after the cool darkness of the house.
The sweat that trickled down Jennifer’s sides in the intense heat dried almost as soon as it formed, too quickly to wet the fabric of the dress. She thought she now understood why the ancient Egyptians wore such loose, light clothing, and briefly envied the naked children. She licked dry lips, feeling like she was turning into a mummy on the spot.
Jennifer tried to keep up with Meryt-Re’s purposeful strides. Her bare feet slapped the paved road, sending up tiny puffs of dust from between the stones. Sand filled the cracks and mounded up in miniature dunes against the edges of the tall buildings surrounding them.
The buildings were covered from top to bottom in hieroglyphs and brightly-painted reliefs of people, animals and gods. They weren’t as nice as the ones inside Dje-Nefer’s house, she decided.
On one building, a giant mural of a god with the head of a bird dominated the wall. The bird’s beak curved gracefully downwards, and he held a scroll in one open hand. From a door near the base, a man wearing a white kilt and a thin leather strap that lay diagonally across his chest led a single file of identically dressed boys of different ages away down the street. Jennifer realized that the bird-headed god must be Thoth, the patron of scribes, and that the building had to be a school.
Jennifer frowned. “Shouldn’t I be in school, too?” she asked.
Meryt-Re groaned. “You’re not going to start that again, are you? Mentmose had his few years, but I thought we established long ago that girls do not go to school, Dje-Nefer.” Meryt-Re threw Jennifer an exasperated look. “No matter how much they nag their mothers.”
“Sorry,” Jennifer mumbled.
Meryt-Re shook her head and strode away. Jennifer hurried to catch up with her. Hundreds of people filled the street, some strolling, others walking more quickly, although no one was foolish enough to run in the relentless heat. Meryt-Re threaded herself easily through the crowd. Jennifer tried to stay as close as possible to her. Once, Meryt-Re grabbed her arm to pull her closer, and they both ended up squeezed against the side of a building as four men carrying a richly-decorated sedan chair trotted by. A man wearing a striped headcloth sat regally under the canopy, looking bored. Jennifer couldn’t help staring after him. Meryt-Re gently towed her away.
The market, which they reached in a remarkably short time, was even more crowded than the street. People here, however, were in no hurry. They meandered from booth to booth, stopping to chat with the vendors, to inspect the goods, and to buy. Jennifer gaped at the number and variety of items for sale. It was a riot of noise and color.
Bright awnings shaded untidy piles of ceramic pots at one booth and precise stacks of bronze plates at another. Across from them, mounds of baskets gave way to heaps of clay oil lamps. Further away, fabric pinned on a striped awning fought for space beside complete outfits, their beads sparkling in the sun, while long poles laid horizontally across tables dripped with glittering jewelry. And all around was noise, the sound of people talking, laughing, arguing, shouting, and even singing.
The market was a maze. Instead of being lined up in neat rows, the booths were spread out in no particular order, as if it had just grown there, like some strange garden. Meryt-Re seemed to know exactly where she was going, though. They twisted and turned, going first one way, then the other, swerving around a clump of jumbled booths, only to go back in almost the same direction they had come from. Meryt-Re walked steadily onwards, ignoring the shouts of the vendors, who held items out to her. Jennifer jogged beside her, staying close.
At last, Meryt-Re stopped at a tent held up at the four corners by long poles that slanted outwards, stretching the striped fabric taut. The awning shaded dozens of woven baskets, and a skinny man who sat cross-legged in the middle. Jennifer wrinkled her nose at the smell rising from the baskets. Flies bigger than she had ever seen in her life buzzed around, swooping in and out of the tent. Waving them away, she peered into one of the baskets. A few glassy-eyed fish stared back at her.
“Good morning, Seneb,” said Meryt-Re. “What do you have today?”
“Finest catfish and perch,” said Seneb, smiling at her. He was missing several teeth, Jennifer noticed. “I just caught them this morning.”
Jennifer doubted that. Maybe it was the heat, but the fish sure smelled like they’d been out of the water longer than Seneb claimed. And frankly, he needed a bath, too. Jennifer breathed through her mouth as he lifted an arm and waved it at his stock.
“You won’t find better anywhere else,” he claimed.
Despite the heat and the fishy reek, Meryt-Re took her time examining the fish, inspecting each part, perhaps trying to find one that was actually fresh. Finally, she chose one that didn’t look too bad, and picked it up, sliding her fingers under its gills.
“Will you take one of my barley cakes for this?” she asked.
“Your barley cakes are among the finest in the city, Meryt-Re. But only one?” Seneb put his hand over his heart and arranged his face into a sad expression. “Dear lady, you wound me.”
“It is not a very big fish, Seneb,” said Meryt-Re. “I have seen far larger ones at your booth in the past.”
“Alas, they are no longer to be found. It is the drought,” said Seneb. “It has made everything scarce. Even the fish have deserted us for more hospitable areas. I assure you, these fine specimens were caught with considerable effort on my part. I cannot let them go for less than five cakes each.”
“If, by effort, you mean that half the night you were lazing on your boat while your nets drifted in the river, I believe you,” said Meryt-Re. “You are only trying to get as many of my cakes as you can. Two.”
“It is the god’s own truth that these perch are worth the gold found in the tombs of the pharaohs. Four cakes.”
Meryt-Re pursed her lips, then sighed dramatically as she laid the fish back in its basket. “Well, if that is the way it is to be, I will have to look elsewhere.” She turned to go.
“Wait! Wait, Meryt-Re,” said Seneb, as he reached behind himself, digging in a small basket at his back. He showed a slightly larger, fresher-looking fish to Meryt-Re.
“Saving the best for yourself, Seneb?” she asked.
“Had you but asked, I would have offered it earlier,” he said in an oily voice.
“Hm,” said Meryt-Re. “Well, that is certainly better quality. I’ll take it.”
Seneb held it back as she reached for it. “Three cakes,” he said.
Meryt-Re grimaced, then nodded. “Done.” Seneb passed the fish to her. “Dje-Nefer?”
“What?” said Jennifer.
“Take the fish,” said Meryt-Re.
“Oh. Right,” said Jennifer. She slid two fingers under the gills, as she had seen Meryt-Re do, grimacing at the slimy feel, and almost dropped it. It landed in her basket with a plop. Jennifer wiggled her dirty fingers and wondered where to wipe them. Not her dress—it would smell bad all day. She finally settled on using a corner of Seneb’s tent fabric.
Meanwhile, Meryt-Re had lifted her ba
sket for Seneb to select his cakes. They were all the same, as far as Jennifer could see, but Seneb took his time to find the three biggest ones. Jennifer half-expected him to try to sneak another, but Meryt-Re was watching too closely.
Meryt-Re scowled and shook her head as they left Seneb’s booth, but once out of his sight, her expression cleared.
“That old pirate. I could have gotten him down to two. But this is a very good fish, so I do not begrudge him the extra cake,” said Meryt-Re. “I just hope Ka-Aper is satisfied with simple fare. As a high priest, he must be used to eating at the palace, and I doubt if they eat fish very often. Let us see if we can also find a duck. It has been a long time since your father tasted one.”
Meryt-Re next headed towards a booth hung with the bodies of birds. Some were ducks, but other, smaller ones, were birds that Jennifer couldn’t identify. They smelled bad, too, but not nearly as awful as Seneb and his fish.
Jennifer kept silent as Meryt-Re showed the papyrus that Neferhotep had given her to the bird vendor. After what seemed like a very heated argument, he finally accepted it and gave Meryt-Re a smallish duck in return. Meryt-Re dropped the duck into Jennifer’s basket.
The bird-seller hung his head as they left, but when Jennifer glanced back, he was already smiling at his next customer.
A man pushed past her, and she stumbled, nearly dropping the basket. Meryt-Re pulled her away from him and his plodding donkey, both of them laden with clattering clay pots. Three short-legged, pointy-eared brown dogs yapped and bounced after him, nipping at the donkey’s legs.
“Careful, Dje-Nefer,” said Meryt-Re. “We made good bargains, but I don’t have enough cakes, nor another of Neferhotep’s papyri if we lost them. Come . . .”
“Dje-Nefer! Dje-Nefer!”
A young girl with frizzy black hair and a heart-shaped, delicate face came hurtling out of the crowd to fling one arm around Jennifer’s neck. “Dje-Nefer! Your father said you would be here, and here you are. I’m so glad I found you. Do you like my new necklace? Mother says I can get new earrings, too. She’s looking at some now. Oh! I love your scarab! Did your father make it? It’s beautiful. I wish I had something like that. What did you get? Can I see? Oh, a duck! We had one last night, and it was bigger than this, but mother didn’t like it. She says you just can’t get good food right now. Are you having a special dinner?”
The Amulet of Amon-Ra Page 3