by Scott Peters
Then, as if seeing him for the first time, her mouth opened.
"Oops." She clapped her hand over her eyes.
"Um, could you maybe let go now?" he said.
She smothered a nervous giggle.
Ramses struggled into the muddy garment. After a moment, he said, "Thanks. You can look."
She sat up and wiped her forehead. "Sorry about that. And about your trap."
"The trap's not mine."
"Actually, I don’t think it’s anyone’s now," she said with a shudder. "I'm glad I'm not still in there. Look at it."
The sides had caved in; the pit was only half as wide, and shrinking. Brown water flowed over the edge in a steady stream toward the river.
She scanned his face. "You saved my life."
Her irises were flecked with gold. They felt familiar and foreign all at the same time. Like he could talk to her about anything, if only he could think of something interesting to say. And that was the problem. He couldn't think of anything.
The air pressed close, all hot and humid; on the river, an ibis sang out and another replied.
To his surprise, the girl dropped her gaze to the ground. Her cheeks colored.
Ramses felt his do the same. Feeling incredibly awkward, he tried to break the tension by saying, "What were you doing here by yourself?"
"I was . . . wait, what’s that supposed to mean?"
"Well, I was just—"
She smiled. "Oh, it doesn’t matter. If you want to know, I was gathering herbs. And I feel pretty dumb right now. I walked right into that hole."
"If I hadn’t been so slow . . ."
"My basket!" she said. "By the gods, it took me all day to gather those herbs—please don’t tell me it drowned." She slicked dirt-smeared hair from her face and leaped up. She ran, searching. "It has to be here!"
Ramses stood and pushed through the rushes. "Is this it?" He held up the woven reed container, and then started to gather the spilled cuttings.
"That’s twice," she said when he gave it to her.
"Twice what?"
"Twice you know what. Twice that you saved me. Thanks."
Although she was coated with half-dried muck, he couldn’t tear his eyes away.
She laughed. "We look like mud-rats. My father’s going to kill me."
Ramses remembered Uncle Hay’s warning to keep Sepi’s best tunic clean.
"Yeah, I’m pretty much dead, too."
"Really? Your father will be mad?"
"No . . ." He let the words hang, not wanting to say more.
Chapter Fourteen
"So what are you doing out here?" the girl asked.
Ramses had a sudden impulse to show her his drawing of Ptah—to tell her he was practicing for the exam at the famous Place of Truth. Then just as quickly he pushed it away. The drawing might frighten her, the way it had frightened him.
And if it didn't, she’d probably think he was a show-off.
He shrugged.
At this, she said, "Well, who are you?"
"A farmer. My name's Ramses."
"A farmer?" She eyed his fancy tunic. "Your farm must be pretty impressive to go around dressed like that."
He glanced down at Sepi’s ruined outfit. Uncle Hay was going to kill him. But for some reason, he couldn't stop himself from laughing. "I don’t usually dress like this. I’m running an errand."
And he was late, he reminded himself. Very late. Still, he didn’t want to leave.
"I better let you go." She paused. When he made no move to depart, she said, "I always wondered what that’s like. Living on a farm. I bet yours is nice."
"It’s good . . . it’s—" Wait, she didn’t live on a farm? Then what was she doing out here in the middle of nowhere? Again, he noted the regal tilt of her head, the rich cut of her muddied linen dress.
"Where are you from?" he said.
"Not far."
"Well if it’s not a farm, what is it?"
She laughed. "Right now it’s a place in a lot of trouble." He watched her wring out her dress. Muddy droplets sparkled with sunlight as they fell.
"I guess if you wanted to tell me about it, you would," he said.
"It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just . . . can we talk about something else? How about you. Do you have a big family?"
"No. It’s just me. My parents are gone."
"I’m sorry." Her cheeks colored. "I didn’t mean to pry."
"It’s okay. It’s not like it’s a secret."
After a moment she said, "How old are you? You look like you’re the same age as me. And you’re in charge of a whole farm?"
"Well I’m not exactly . . ." He thought of Aunt Zalika and felt his face growing hot. "I mean, yes, it’s my farm, but . . ." He swallowed, searching for words.
"No wonder you wear such fancy tunics to run errands along the river," she said, admiration in her voice.
"It’s not like that." He had to correct her. Quick. Before it was too late.
"Neferet!" a man shouted in the distance.
The girl leapt to her feet. On a rise to the west, a crowd of men appeared. Ramses eyed them in surprise. There had to be at least a dozen of them. At first, he saw only a mob. But then he realized the men wore uniforms. Kilts with thick leather belts at their waists. Weapons dangling from straps. Several carried fiber shields. They were soldiers of some kind. And they were no mob—they were walking in formation, with a single man at the head.
He turned to Neferet, but she was staring at the men, pale-faced. "Jabari?"
"Thank the gods," the man cried, "We’ve searched everywhere!"
Neferet gulped. "I'm in big trouble," she told Ramses. "I have to go."
"Why? Who are they?"
"My father must have sent them."
Her father? Who was her father to command such men?
Looking worried, Neferet hurried away a few steps, but then turned back. Reaching her hands up around her neck, she removed the turquoise amulet. "I want to give you this."
It was a carved figure of Maat, goddess of justice and truth. The goddess held a tiny feather: the feather she used to weigh the truths of men.
"I can’t take it," he said, awed by the valuable piece.
"Please." She pressed it into his fist. "As my thank you?"
Being this close to her made his stomach go all fluttery and strange. She bit her lip, and he wondered if she felt it too. For a moment, they held the amulet between their palms. When she gazed up at him from under her dark lashes, she looked like a drawing come to life.
"Will I see you again?" he said.
She nodded, swallowing. "I’ll try to come back here sometime—"
"Step away from her!" the man she'd called Jabari barked.
Ramses jumped, and she pulled away quickly.
"I said, step away!" The man's hand went to his sword. It rasped free of it's sheath.
"Stop!" Neferet said. "He's a friend!"
Still, Ramses did as he was told. Friend or not, the other men were advancing on him.
"Are you all right?" Jabari demanded.
"Of course I'm all right," she said. "Everything’s fine."
"Everything's not fine. We must go," Jabari said, shooting a dark look at Ramses.
She nodded and called, "Goodbye then."
"Goodbye," Ramses said. "Thank you." Awkwardly, he stood there, holding her amulet.
The men closed around her in a protective circle. He watched in amazement as they led her away. Again, he thought of how he'd found her wandering alone. It seemed even stranger, given she was clearly someone important. A merchant's daughter, perhaps?
The group marched south twenty paces or so. He realized they were about to trample the drawing. He opened his mouth to warn them, when Neferet cried out.
"Stop!" she said.
The group staggered to a halt, nearly tripping over one another. He saw them all stare downward, following her gaze. They were staring down at Ptah. Were they afraid of the sight, the way th
e priest had been? The way Ramses himself had been just a short while ago?
He saw Neferet between them, speaking quickly to the guard named Jabari. She pointed back at Ramses. The man shook his head. Firmly, he guided her away. The others fanned out to walk on either side of the image.
The last guard glanced back, and his expression shocked Ramses.
It wasn’t fear. Instead, it was an unmistakable look of respect.
The group made for the rise. Four uniformed men lifted a curtained litter onto their shoulders. The fabric blew back to reveal a glimpse of Neferet. He couldn’t just let her go. He had to see her again!
His fingers closed around her turquoise amulet.
He ran after them.
Jabari turned and barked, "Step back. Now!"
"Who is she?"
Legs planted, sword glinting, the guard measured him from head to toe. Never had Ramses felt so small and insignificant. "She’s daughter to the Chief Scribe of the Place of Truth."
The Chief Scribe’s daughter?
Daughter to the man who'd announced the apprenticeship? Daughter to the man who—to Ramses—was the most important person in all Egypt, except for Pharaoh Tutankhamen himself? This was unbelievable.
"That’s right," Jabari said. "You should look awed. Now step back, or I’ll be forced to arrest you."
Ramses did as he was told. Jabari turned and joined the procession, his belt and sword jangling from his waist. The guards marched in rhythm, disappearing into the shimmering distance.
"Neferet," Ramses said. The beautiful one.
Still, he thought, even if she were a simple peasant, he'd feel the same. Neferet was unlike any girl he'd met. She was courageous. She was smart. And she was funny.
He stood for a long time and stared after them, her still warm amulet clutched in his fingers.
Chapter Fifteen
In the curtained litter, Neferet’s stomach fluttered. She wiped her sweaty hands on her legs and tried to fix her dress. It had dried stiff and muddy as a board. She gave up and knotted her fingers together.
The sun god, Ra, shone through a gap in the curtains. Ra had long since crossed his zenith in the sky as her procession neared the front gates to the Place of Truth.
She couldn’t believe her father had sent a search party to find her.
She was in huge trouble.
She thought of Ramses. No matter what happened, meeting him was worth it.
The men slowed and the curtains grew still. Hot sunlight burned through the linen hangings. She heard the village gates creak open. Footsteps echoed off the thick, mud-brick walls as cool shadows enveloped her.
"We’re here," Jabari announced.
"I know." She pushed the curtains aside and slid from her seat, her eyes cast down. "Thank you."
"You had us worried. I was worried."
"I’m sorry you had to search for me like that," she mumbled.
"Humph."
The sight of vegetable sacks and water jugs waiting by the gate gave her a jolt. It was later than she thought. Much later. She hadn’t been gone that long, had she?
"Today’s supply caravan came already?" she gasped.
"Hours ago."
It was that late? She was in serious trouble.
Behind her, wood thudded against metal as two guards secured the gates.
"Locking them won’t stop her," Jabari said. "She'll just climb right out!"
"I said I’m sorry."
"It’s not me you need to worry about."
Neferet thought of her father. She could already see his furious face. "I know."
She ran down the narrow, shaded alleys. Her feet stirred up dust and her stomach twisted into knots.
She had good reason to be out in the desert, she told herself. Very good reason. She was getting Merit’s herbs! So what if she’d gone further than she was supposed to? The physician would back her up, wouldn’t she?
She groaned.
Nothing could excuse her for staying out so long, or for going so far. It would be back to Layla’s house. Back to being Layla’s mother’s prisoner.
"She’s a good girl," Layla’s mother would tell her father. "All she needs is a woman’s care." And then she’d force Neferet to sew curtains for the whole village.
She’d never see Ramses again.
As she neared the last turn to her house, the babble of women’s voices carried down the street. She slowed, edging up to the corner. Carefully, she peeked around it at her front door. Girls with their mothers swarmed around her doorstep.
She pulled back into the shadows.
Flea-dung!
"Just wait until she gets here. I’ll give her a piece of my mind," a woman said. "Shaming her father like this. Where has she been? She wants attention, that’s what this is. She’s spoiled rotten."
"She’ll ruin our village," said another, "Running wild like she does."
"She already has!" said a third. "She made Paneb run away."
Neferet gasped. She hadn’t made him run away! She’d tried to stop him!
"The girl is evil."
Evil? Neferet felt as if she’d been stabbed.
"It’s so sad," came Layla’s voice. "Who does she think she is? That she can just take off, whenever she likes?"
A woman said, "Well—she does work for the physician gathering herbs."
"Gathering herbs?" Layla cried. "That's just an excuse. She likes to cause drama. She's desperate for attention. Always was. And now she has guards out looking for her? What's next? It's embarrassing to have a girl like that in our village. I told you, she's a troublemaker. All we had to do was wait."
Well, Neferet had waited long enough.
Every head turned as she strode out of the shadows. Layla flicked invisible dust from a crisp new skirt. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, Neferet tried to look as lady-like as possible, but her gritty dress made walking difficult. It rubbed against her legs with a rasping sound that made her blush. She pushed matted hair from her dirt-baked forehead.
All around her, jaws slackened.
Layla broke the silence with a snort of laughter. "Did you get lost digging for grubs or something?"
Beside her, Layla’s mother’s painted brows were high with shock. "Neferet!" she sputtered. "What in the name of the gods?"
"I was picking herbs for Merit and I fell."
"You fell? And then what—did you roll all the way home?"
At this, Neferet bit back a laugh. She couldn’t help it. That was funny!
"Oh, you think it’s funny to mock us, do you?" demanded Layla’s mother. "You and your father, he’s no better for letting you do it! Our whole village is in trouble, and here you are rolling in the dirt, and he’s done nothing to help us! Nothing, do you hear? He—" Layla's mother's mouth snapped shut.
Everyone glanced up as the door to Neferet’s house opened.
Her father emerged on the top step. He stood beneath the inscription of his name, his eyes dark and his shoulders dusty with work. In silence, he surveyed the scene.
"Good evening, ladies," he finally said. His gaze stopped on Layla’s mother. He stared at her steadily, the way he sometimes stared at Neferet when she did something wrong.
Layla's mother grew flustered. "Oh! Yes, good evening!"
Neferet felt a surge of pride. He’d be furious with her later, but for now she ran to him.
He dropped a protective arm around her shoulders. His stern eyes swept over the gathering, moving from one face to the other until they all looked embarrassed. "Why are you here, at my house, instead of at home cooking dinner?"
"Have you seen Neferet?" Layla’s mother said.
"I see her now."
"Well, where has she been?" She gestured at Neferet. "We were worried!"
"Your worry is appreciated," he said in a voice that made it clear he knew their motives had more to do with gossip than actual concern. "Ladies, good night. Please go home. Now." He led Neferet inside and shut the door.
"Hello Fathe
r!" she said, forcing a bright tone.
"Where have you been?" he demanded.
"Just, well, you know . . ."
"No, I don’t."
Chapter Sixteen
Standing just inside the door, her father stared down at her, unsmiling.
When Neferet felt nervous, she talked quickly. She stumbled through an explanation at breakneck speed. "Well I didn’t mean to take so long, but this morning, Merit, the village physician, said she needed more of those plants she uses for Tui’s salve. It’s that lotion for his arthritis? It’s the only thing that helps, he can’t paint without it. So I thought you wouldn’t mind, and then, I had to get a new reed basket, because mine has a hole in it . . ."
Neferet eyed her father. He hated long-winded explanations. She was in enough trouble already; did she have to tell him about Ramses?
"Go on."
"Right. So anyway, I was barely outside the village, that's where I usually look for the herbs, but couldn’t find any! I guess everyone in Thebes must have arthritis too. I had to walk and walk and still only found a couple of tiny shoots. It’s hard work you know. I didn’t notice how far I’d gone, because I was very focused on doing a good job. Tui . . ."
"Who’s the boy?"
She felt her cheeks turn red. So, he already knew. Of course he knew. When the sentries found her, they must’ve sent a runner to tell him.
"The boy, yes, I was just getting to that," she said.
"Then get to it."
"Well I didn’t see him, and then I tripped into this trap. But it’s not like he did it on purpose. Tripped me, I mean—"
"See why I don’t want you going out alone?" he shouted.
From beyond the door came the shuffle of feet and the muffled murmurs of women and girls.
"You could’ve been killed," he growled.
Neferet knotted her fingers in the folds of her filthy dress. "He wasn’t dangerous."
"Yes, because the guards came."
"No! They came later. We were there for a long . . ." she stopped.
"For a long time?" His wooly brows arched.