The Amulet of Amon-Ra

by Leslie Carmichael

  “I hope the tomb robbers don’t get to him,” said Jennifer.

  “Dje-Nefer, don’t be so gloomy,” said someone from behind Jennifer.

  She turned. Tetisheri beamed at her.

  “What are you doing here?” Jennifer blurted.

  “Same as you,” said Tetisheri. “Aren’t funerals beautiful?”

  “Beautiful? But he’s dead,” said Jennifer.

  Tetisheri looked puzzled. “Of course, but his mummy will soon be reborn to a new life and will be honored at the gods’ side.”

  “Hm,” said Jennifer. The mummy in the museum hadn’t looked reborn at all. It was still pretty dead.

  “Were you shopping?” asked Tetisheri.

  “Yes, for clothing,” said Jennifer.

  “Clothing? Why?” said Tetisheri. “Your mother usually makes your clothes, doesn’t she? Are you going somewhere special? I know! You’re having dinner with Ka-Aper again, aren’t you?”

  Meryt-Re put her hand on Jennifer’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. When she spoke, it was barely above a murmur. “Actually, we are going to the feast at the palace tonight.”

  “Oh! So am I!” Tetisheri squealed.

  “Your family has been invited as well?” asked Meryt-Re.

  “Of course!” said Tetisheri. “My father is the second assistant official to the Curator of Monuments.”

  “I had forgotten his new position. Of course he would be going.”

  “This time, I get to go, too. Mother just told me. Do you think Mentmose would like to escort me?” Tetisheri asked, blushing slightly.

  Jennifer stifled a snort.

  “Perhaps we could all go together,” Meryt-Re suggested.

  “What a good idea!” said Tetisheri, beaming. “I’ll go tell my parents.” She dashed away, and melted into the crowd.

  “What does a Curator of Monuments do?” asked Jennifer, hoping that Dje-Nefer wouldn’t know that.

  “I am not entirely sure,” said Meryt-Re, smiling, “but you can be certain that it is a very, very important job. At least, so Tetisheri’s mother told me.” She sighed. “She also hinted that Tetisheri’s betrothal to Mentmose may no longer be…appropriate.”

  “That would make Mentmose happy,” said Jennifer.

  Meryt-Re’s smile tilted. “I know he is not pleased with our choice of a wife for him. Satyah and I were close friends when we were younger and pledged to match our children together. When you were all small and her husband not so exalted, it seemed no hardship for her. But now…well. Anyway, Mentmose should be grateful. Tetisheri is devoted to him, despite her mother’s recent objections. He could do much worse.”

  “She talks too much, but she’s nice,” said Jennifer.

  Meryt-Re laughed. “A fair assessment. Now let us be about our own business.”

  “Will Tetisheri be shopping for new clothes, too?” asked Jennifer.

  “Likely they already have outfits being custom-made for them. Satyah hired a seamstress as soon as Hekhanakhte was appointed to his new office.” Meryt-Re started walking again, steering Jennifer away from the market and down a narrow side street.

  “I thought we were going to buy clothes,” said Jennifer.

  “We are,” said Meryt-Re. “As you so aptly put it, Tetisheri talks too much. She has probably told several people by now that we are all going to the feast.”

  “So?”

  “So, clothing vendors in our market may hear it and would then know that we are in need of their wares. The price would go up because of that. It is always better to pretend that you are not interested in what they have to sell. We will go to a different market where they do not know us so well. And hope that no one there knows Tetisheri!”

  “Will they have what we need?” asked Jennifer, trying to keep up with Meryt-Re’s quickening pace.

  “That is a chance we will have to take,” said Meryt-Re.

  They emerged from the shaded, twisting road into a sunlit open area. Jennifer nearly bumped into Meryt-Re, as she slowed her rapid walk to a leisurely saunter. Jennifer strolled along beside her, trying to match her calm survey of the vendors.

  Like the other market, this one was filled with a disordered jumble of booths, a path of beaten earth winding between them. They passed more sellers of pottery, brass items and vegetables, and even someone sitting under an umbrella, cross-legged on a mat. He was writing a letter that was being dictated to him by a well-dressed nobleman.

  “A scribe,” murmured Meryt-Re. “This market must be frequented by some of the upper classes. We shall see what we can find.”

  The scribe dipped his reed pen into an inkwell on a leather strap strapped across his bare chest, nodded to his customer, and continued writing. Jennifer tried to peek at the letter, but Meryt-Re wouldn’t let her.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “I just wanted to see the hieroglyphs,” said Jennifer.

  Meryt-Re shook her head. “Why? Neither you nor I would be able to read them. That’s a man’s job. I don’t know what’s gotten into you. First asking about school, now this. Bad enough that your father lets you play at painting our walls.”

  “Paint?” said Jennifer. Her mouth opened in surprise. So that’s who the artist was. Dje-Nefer! “But they’re good!”

  “Don’t go getting ideas above yourself, Dje-Nefer.” Meryt-Re frowned. “Your painting is just for fun. You’ll have to give it up soon.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’ll be too busy with women’s work. It is work, you know, no matter that you might not yet understand that.” Meryt-Re gave Jennifer a speculative look as they hurried on. “Perhaps we have already indulged your hobby for too long.”

  Jennifer gulped. She hadn’t meant to get Dje-Nefer in trouble.

  “Here we are,” said Meryt-Re, with a swift glance at a nearby booth, where several men’s kilts hung from poles. The seller also had piles of linen on his tables.

  But instead of looking directly at the booth, Meryt-Re fingered a pile of dark woolen blankets stacked neatly under a nearby awning. The man selling them oozed up beside her and chattered away about how fine they were, and how useful they would be after the annual Nile flood, when it got so much colder. Jennifer could tell that Meryt-Re was only half-listening to him.

  “Weren’t we looking for…,” Jennifer began.

  “Sh,” said Meryt-Re. Jennifer looked at her, confused. But Meryt-Re gave her a tiny nod, and the ghost of a wink. She left the blanket seller and sauntered past the one with the men’s outfits. The man in the booth turned their way as they passed.

  “Something for your husband, mistress?” he asked, showing a lot of teeth.

  Meryt-Re pretended not to be interested, but eventually she let him talk her into looking at two. Bargaining for the kilts went slowly, with the man insisting that Meryt-Re was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen—barring the Pharaoh herself, of course—and that times were so hard, he needed her to be as generous as she was lovely. In the end, Meryt-Re reluctantly handed over an onyx sheep, a malachite horse, and two turquoise elephants for two fine linen shirts, two sheer linen tunics, and a pair of beaded pectorals.

  Meryt-Re sighed when they left. “As I suspected, wares in this market are somewhat more expensive than where I usually shop. The quality is very good. Let us see if we can find some outfits for ourselves now. Or at least for me. We may not have enough for a new dress for you.”

  “That’s all right,” said Jennifer.

  A little further away, they found a booth offering women’s clothing, next to a cheese seller’s booth. Stretched across the fabric of a large covered booth were several outfits, sparkling in the sun. Jennifer sucked in a breath at their opulence. The golden belt and collar on a long white dress shimmered in the sun as a breeze rippled the awning.

  “Lovely, aren’t they?” Meryt-Re murmured. “Shall we look at the cheese?” she said in a louder voice.

  Jennifer obediently inspected cheeses with Meryt-Re, giving the
clothing booth an occasional glance. In the shade of the canopy, a gray-haired woman was bargaining with a customer, who finally agreed to a price. With a handshake and a nod, the woman accepted something in exchange, passed across the table in front of her. A teenage boy stood close beside her. He wrapped the merchandise in a piece of fabric and handed it to the customer.

  “Let’s go,” said Meryt-Re. She shook her head at the man selling the cheeses. He was still trying to get her to buy one even as she walked away.

  As they approached the clothing booth, the old woman came out of the shadow of her awning and smiled at them. Jennifer gasped.

  “Grandma Jo?”

  “Pardon?” said the old woman.

  “Grandma Jo!”

  The old woman flicked a puzzled glance at Meryt-Re, then stared at Jennifer. “Do I know you, dear?”

  “Are…aren’t you…,” Jennifer began.

  Meryt-Re gazed at Jennifer with a baffled expression. “Dje-Nefer? Are you all right?”

  Jennifer stared. “I,uh,” she stammered, clutching her scarab amulet. “I thought…never mind.”

  The resemblance was amazing, even though the woman’s braided gray hair was longer than Grandma Jo’s ever had been. Her eyes were outlined with a thick line of dark green kohl, and her skin was darker than either Meryt-Re’s or Jennifer’s. Could it be Grandma Jo? But surely, she would have said something, if she was.

  The old woman shrugged, then turned to Meryt-Re, who was eyeing Jennifer with a most peculiar expression. “May I help you, dear?”

  “No, no, thank you. We were just looking.”

  “For anything in particular?”

  “My daughter was just admiring one of your outfits,” said Meryt-Re.

  “Which one?” asked the woman, all business.

  “The white one, with the beaded collar,” said Meryt-Re. “But we really can’t take the time to look at it. We have so much to do.”

  “Wait, I have one just like it in the back. Ti, go get it, please.”

  The boy trotted behind her, into a closed-off area in the rear of the tent.

  “My grandson,” said the old woman.

  “A fine boy,” said Meryt-Re. The woman beamed at her.

  Ti soon returned, carefully carrying a folded dress and a small wooden box. The woman took the dress from him and shook it out in front of Meryt-Re. Ti lifted a layered collar of green beads from the box and held it up in front of Jennifer, grinning at her.

  “It’s nice,” said Meryt-Re. “What are you asking?”

  “Two deben of gold,” said the woman.

  “Mm. Well, perhaps some other time,” said Meryt-Re, turning away. “My clothing chest is full enough.”

  The old woman raised one eyebrow. “Surely a lady such as yourself could make room for one more? You deserve finery, my dear.”

  “Don’t we all,” said Meryt-Re, laughing. “Thank you, but we really must be on our way.”

  The woman leaned closer to Meryt-Re and laid the dress on the table. “But can you not see yourself in this? The beads of the pectoral are made of the very best malachite, perfect for your complexion.”

  “Well…,” said Meryt-Re, bending to examine the dress more thoroughly. “It is lovely. But see? There is a flaw in the linen.”

  Jennifer squinted at the spot where Meryt-Re was pointing. She couldn’t make out more than a tiny bump on the surface.

  “The malachite in the collar is pretty, but I know where I can get better,” Meryt-Re continued.

  “I assure you, you will not find clothing superior to mine,” said the old woman.

  “My grandmother Mutemwija makes the best,” said Ti, scowling.

  “Hush, boy,” said Mutemwija. “You are right about the flaw, however. Perhaps we could come to an agreement.”

  “I’m not carrying any gold with me today,” Meryt-Re said loftily. “I have this.”

  She rummaged in her basket and pulled out one of Ramose’s carvings, a translucent, white sitting cat. Its eyes were made of pale green chips.

  Ti’s eyebrows flew up and then back down again so swiftly that Jennifer wasn’t sure if she had imagined it. Mutemwija’s face was expressionless as she took the cat from Meryt-Re and inspected, much as Meryt-Re had done with the dress, looking for flaws. Jennifer stroked her scarab amulet and doubted she would find any.

  “Quartz, is it?” asked Mutemwija, glancing at Meryt-Re. “This might be enough for the gown, but not the necklace also.”

  “Quartz is difficult to carve,” said Meryt-Re, with a toss of her black hair. “My husband Ramose is one of the finest stone artists in all of Kemet. Ptah guides his hand—as surely as he does yours. He is the exclusive supplier of amulets to a high priest of Amon-Ra.”

  Mutemwija turned the cat over to look at the base. “I suppose this is meant for a tomb, then? It is very fine, but as I say, not quite enough. Now, if you had something to go with it…”

  Meryt-Re retrieved another carving, twin to the first, but made of turquoise, and with the cat’s tail curving in the opposite direction. This cat’s eyes were black.

  “Ahhhh,” said Mutemwija. “A matched set. Very well. The cats for the dress and the pectoral, and we have a bargain.”

  “I accept,” said Meryt-Re, offering her hand for the woman to shake. “Now we really must be moving on.”

  Ti wrapped up the dress and necklace and handed it to Meryt-Re, who slipped it into her basket.

  “May one ask if the lady will be wearing my creation somewhere special? I must say, it is one of my favorites,” said Mutemwija.

  Meryt-Re leaned conspiratorially closer. “The palace!” she said. “My family and I have been invited to dine there this evening. Have we not, Dje-Nefer?”

  “Ra! That’s an honor,” said Mutemwija, smiling at Jennifer. “Dje-Nefer, is it?” She slurred the name, making it sound more like Jennifer’s. “May I know your name?”

  “It’s Meryt-Re,” said Meryt-Re. She glanced at the sun. “But we really must…”

  “Wait,” said Mutemwija. She whispered something to Ti, who then trotted to the back. When he returned, he was carrying a small bundle under his arm. Mutemwija took it from him, then handed it to Meryt-Re.

  With a puzzled frown, Meryt-Re shook it out. It was a dress like hers, but in a smaller size.

  “Will that fit your daughter?” asked Mutemwija.

  “Well, yes, but I can’t…”

  Mutemwija held up her hand, palm outward. “A gift. For your little girl. She reminds me of my daughter’s daughter.”

  “A gift?” said Meryt-Re.

  “A gift?” Ti squawked, looking appalled.

  Mutemwija patted him on the shoulder. “Yes. And if you should happen to mention my name at the palace tonight…”

  Ti’s expression cleared.

  “Of course,” said Meryt-Re. “I will tell as many people as possible where I got this lovely outfit.”

  “I would be grateful,” said Mutemwija. “My grandson and I have only recently arrived from the south.”

  “So you do not yet have a large client base,” said Meryt-Re. “I see. I will do what I can. The quality of your work speaks for itself.”

  “Thank you,” said Mutemwija.

  Meryt-Re inclined her head and walked away. Jennifer followed, sneaking a glance over her shoulder.

  Mutemwija was staring after them. She raised her hand in farewell, then turned to talk with another customer.

  “I am very pleased,” Meryt-Re confessed to Jennifer. “I can’t believe we got my new outfit for only two of Ramose’s carvings.”

  “Is that good?” asked Jennifer.

  “Oh, yes, very good. I was expecting to have to use more. The quality of this outfit—of both of them—is exceptional. I would have recommended her to others even if she had not asked me to. She will have to learn to price her wares accordingly if she is hoping to do well in this market.”

  “She…was very nice,” said Jennifer, looking over her shoulder once agai
n. Mutemwija’s booth was no longer visible. “Maybe she liked you.”

  “I think it more likely that she liked you,” said Meryt-Re. “You heard her say you reminded her of her granddaughter.”

  Mutemwija had certainly reminded her of Grandma Jo, so the feeling was mutual.

  “It’s so sad that your grandmother is no longer alive,” said Meryt-Re.

  “What?” squeaked Jennifer.

  “Pardon?” Meryt-Re frowned at her.

  “But she…uh, sorry. I just didn’t hear you clearly,” said Jennifer.

  Meryt-Re gave her an odd look, but didn’t say anything else. They rounded a corner of the market, to see a woman walking towards them with a black wig carefully balanced on a wooden stand.

  “That’s the next thing we need to purchase,” said Meryt-Re.

  To Jennifer’s newly-educated eyes, bartering for the wigs seemed to go well enough, although Meryt-Re didn’t seem as happy about the trade as she had been for the other items. She exchanged an orange-red ankh, two miniature headrests, an Eye of Horus carved from the same dark blue stone as her scarab, and the hippo, since the man’s wife was expecting their third child.

  “Well, they are real hair,” said Meryt-Re, as they walked away. “It was worth it.”

  “Are we done?” asked Jennifer. She was sure that the sunlight beating down on her shoulders was giving her a sunburn..

  “Almost,” said Meryt-Re. “We just need to buy sandals. The clothing vendor told me that old Khufu, across the market, makes the best.”

  “Was he telling the truth?” asked Jennifer, wriggling her sore bare feet.

  “Oh, Khufu is probably his cousin or something, but I have no doubt he makes good sandals, or he would not have recommended him. Angry customers would only bring him misfortune.”

  “I wonder if he’s going to tell Khufu we’re coming,” said Jennifer, thinking about the secrecy that Meryt-Re had wanted to keep, so that she could get better bargains.

  “Possibly,” said Meryt-Re. “Let us see if we can outfly the news. However, I had a reason for asking about sandals. Now he knows that Ramose the amulet-maker is moving up in the world. He will tell others.”