The Horned Viper

by Gill Harvey

  Dawn was filtering through the flaps of the shelter. Isis eased herself from underneath the sleepy cat and crept outside, where some of the crew had begun to stir. Isis wandered towards them. Many seemed tired and grumpy, and Isis could see blood seeping through their bandages. She wished she could talk to them but only Kerem spoke Egyptian, and he was already busy, marching down to the boat with linen under his arm.

  She decided to quiz him anyway. Skipping down the riverbank, she caught up with him and touched his arm. He turned to her in surprise.

  ‘Kerem,’ she began, ‘is it true that your crew fought off a whole boat of men yesterday, and made them run away?’

  Kerem frowned. ‘We fought, yes. You can see the injuries.’

  ‘And you fought to protect Hat-Neb, didn’t you?’ asked Isis. ‘It was very loyal and brave of you.’

  Kerem gave a short laugh. ‘Loyal and brave!’ he repeated. He stopped walking and looked at her. ‘You understand nothing, little dancer.’

  Isis was puzzled. ‘Why?’

  Kerem shook his head, and carried on walking. ‘We fight when we must fight. This is our work. It does not make us loyal or brave. And yesterday we did not fight for long, because your gods came to save us.’

  Isis was curious. ‘How did the gods save you?’ she asked. ‘Do you mean Sobek, the crocodile god? Hat-Neb sacrificed two lambs to him before we left.’

  Kerem hesitated. ‘You ask too many questions,’ he said.

  ‘But was it Sobek?’ Isis persisted.

  Kerem had reached the boat. He splashed through the shallow water and started hoisting his pile of linen covers up the ladder.

  ‘It was not the crocodile,’ he said. ‘It was a snake god.’

  ‘A snake god! What snake?’ Isis’s thoughts immediately flew to Hopi. But what had her brother got to do with it?

  ‘I don’t know,’ he replied. ‘I can’t tell you. This is not my land, and these are not my gods.’

  And he disappeared over the side of the deck.

  .

  The viper’s body lay quietly on Hopi’s lap. It was fairly small for a horned viper; probably a male, because the females were bigger.

  ‘You see, it’s quite docile,’ said Hopi. ‘If it was a cobra, it would be much more likely to strike.’

  It was not long after dawn. Tutmose had shaken him awake, wanting to be taught about viper-handling. Now, as Hopi held it firmly behind the head, he studied the snake intently.

  ‘I see,’ he said.

  ‘It’s quite calm at the moment,’ Hopi explained. ‘But if it was cornered in the wild, it might make a warning sound by rubbing its scales together.’ He ran a finger down the length of its body. ‘They’re tough, these scales. They make a rasping sound: fffffff . . .’

  ‘Fascinating,’ said Tutmose.

  ‘Try holding it.’ Hopi offered him the viper.

  Tentatively, the doctor reached out and stroked the snake’s body, then recoiled. ‘It’s so cold.’

  ‘You haven’t touched a snake before? They’re always cold.’

  Tutmose placed his hand on the viper once more, then pulled a face. He looked nauseous. ‘Perhaps this was a bad idea,’ he admitted.

  Hopi was curious, especially after everything that had happened. ‘Why would you need to learn how to handle it anyway?’

  Tutmose sighed. ‘I’m a doctor,’ he said. ‘A snake’s venom might be useful to me. You can get it, I suppose?’

  ‘Get what? The venom?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, I’ve never milked a viper,’ confessed Hopi. ‘It’s not easy, because you have to make them strike.’

  ‘Could you try? Just to show me?’ Tutmose seemed almost excited.

  Hopi hesitated, uneasy. ‘I could show you in theory,’ he said.

  ‘Theory’s no good,’ said Tutmose impatiently. He stood up, and wandered around the shelter. Then he came back to sit close to Hopi. ‘Listen,’ he said in a low voice, ‘you saw what happened yesterday. Our boat came under attack. Hat-Neb is in danger – there are many who would like to see him dead. These men were not the only ones. If he has been attacked once, he will be attacked again.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Hopi. ‘What has he done?’

  The doctor placed a hand on Hopi’s shoulder. ‘He has a reputation for cruelty,’ he said. ‘Nevertheless, it is my job to protect him, with magic if necessary. And a snake’s venom is full of power. You must know that.’

  Hopi said nothing. He didn’t want to get involved in Hat-Neb’s protection. On the other hand, he didn’t want to fall out with Tutmose, either.

  ‘Very well,’ he agreed reluctantly. ‘I will need a small container – a jar, perhaps – to collect the venom. And a piece of linen,’ he said.

  Tutmose smiled. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘Today, Hat-Neb is going on a hunting trip in the marshes. We will find a jar on the boat, and you can show me then.’

  .

  Isis watched as the crew swung the boat out into the middle of the river. She was thinking. A snake god . . . it was too much of a coincidence. Hopi must be involved, and she was determined to work out how. She found him sitting at the prow of the boat and sat down next to him.

  ‘Hopi,’ she said, ‘why won’t you tell me about yesterday?’

  Hopi shifted uncomfortably. ‘Tell you what?’

  ‘Kerem told me that they were saved by a snake. A snake god. Do you know anything about that?’

  Isis noticed Hopi’s hand drifting to his bag. She stared at it. Surely her brother didn’t have a snake on board?

  ‘Er, no. No,’ said Hopi. ‘Nothing to do with me.’

  Isis felt stung. She knew her brother too well. ‘Don’t lie to me, Hopi!’ she hissed. ‘You have a snake in your basket. I know you do.’

  ‘Isis.’ Hopi’s voice was urgent. ‘Be careful. Keep out of all this. You don’t understand.’

  ‘Understand what?’ cried Isis. ‘What’s that horrible doctor done to you, Hopi? You’ve changed. You’ve become all dark and sly.’

  Hopi looked shocked. ‘Don’t say that, Isis.’ He hesitated. ‘Listen. The reason I’m not telling you things is this. You think Hat-Neb and Nebo are kind and strong, and that they’ll look after you. But I’ve told you before: they’re not what you think. Last night I saw –’

  Isis sprang to her feet. ‘You don’t know them like I do,’ she retorted. ‘That doctor has poisoned your mind against them. I’m going to tell Nebo about your snake.’

  Hopi grabbed her arm. ‘Don’t you dare, Isis!’

  Isis stared down at him, full of defiance. ‘You can’t stop me,’ she said.

  She ran off down the deck to the back of the boat and looked out towards the riverbank, her feelings in turmoil. It was true that Hopi couldn’t make her keep quiet, but she had never been disloyal to him before. She hated arguing with him. But she didn’t know how to make him see that he was wrong. She folded her arms, wondering what to do. Maybe she wouldn’t speak to Nebo just yet.

  She went into the cabin, where Sheri and Kia were playing their instruments softly. They stopped when Isis came in, and smiled.

  ‘Are you looking forward to your hunting trip, Isis?’ asked Sheri. ‘You’re not afraid of coming across any crocodiles? If you don’t want to go, just say so.’

  ‘I think Hat-Neb and Nebo will keep me safe,’ replied Isis. She looked at them anxiously. ‘They will, won’t they?’

  ‘Of course they will,’ said Sheri. ‘You’ll be fine.’

  Isis smiled in relief. ‘I think it’s going to be fun. Why don’t you want to come?’

  Kia laughed. ‘We’d rather sit here and relax,’ she said. ‘You and Mut go and enjoy yourselves.’

  They seemed so happy and normal that Isis felt reassured. She kissed them both, then went back outside to find that Kerem had already hired two boats from local fishermen. The little craft were soon loaded up; Isis and Mut clambered in with Hat-Neb, Nebo and Killer the cat, while Kerem followed in the second boat with one
of the crew. Isis sat close to Hat-Neb as Nebo began to paddle.

  ‘Are you ready, my daughter?’ Hat-Neb asked. ‘You will have a wonderful day today, I promise. And I won’t let anything harm you. You know that, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’ Isis nodded, and her anger at Hopi welled up once again. Hat-Neb was only ever kind and thoughtful. How could her brother think anything else?

  .

  Hopi watched his sister leave in the little boat. There was no doubt about it: Isis had mastered her fear of the river. He was glad for her, of course, but it still hurt, because this man Hat-Neb had driven such a wedge between them. He wondered if she would tell Nebo about the viper. Surely she wouldn’t really betray him?

  With Kerem gone, the rest of the crew huddled together on the deck, muttering among themselves. Hopi noticed that the two men with the worst injuries were slumped against the rail of the boat. The one that Nebo had punched rocked backwards and forwards, twisting his lip, in a quiet, lost world of pain. For a second, Hopi caught his eye. It shook him. The man’s eyes blazed with anger.

  Hopi didn’t know what to do. He spread his palms, then pointed up at the sky. ‘The gods will help you,’ he wanted to say. He must speak to Tutmose – surely he could do more for these men. But the doctor was not on the deck. Hopi glanced at the shore, and to his surprise, there was Tutmose, weaving his way between the vendors on the riverbank.

  Where does he think he’s going? Hopi thought to himself.

  There was only one way to find out. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, Hopi scrambled down the boat’s ladder and followed him.

  The riverbank was busy, with a bustling market and many people working on papyrus stems – soaking or splitting them, or pressing together the strips to form precious sheets for writing on. The doctor wound through the workers quickly, and Hopi cursed his limp as he left the market and headed along the narrow streets. Tutmose stopped to speak to someone, and Hopi slipped into a doorway. He could just hear the doctor’s voice.

  ‘My name is Imhotep, from the . . .’ He heard Tutmose say. ‘. . . do you know of . . .’

  The rest was lost. Hopi frowned. Imhotep? Why was Tutmose giving another name?

  A few more words drifted his way: ‘. . . of course, yes. I can pay very well.’

  Hopi felt reassured. Tutmose must be getting more treatments for the injured men. He peeped around the doorway and saw that the doctor had set off again with a local man by his side. Hopi emerged from the doorway and followed, but people had begun to notice the strangers in their midst. Women stared as he limped along. Then, to his frustration, Tutmose turned down an alleyway and disappeared.

  Hopi felt lost. He couldn’t just hang around. Reluctantly, he retraced his steps to the boat to wait. There, he found the crew sitting in the shade, their faces sullen. The injured men lay with their eyes closed. Hopi wished that Tutmose would hurry up.

  He went into the cabin, where Sheri and Kia were resting. They smiled at him as he came in.

  ‘Is everything all right, Hopi?’ asked Sheri.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Hopi. He hesitated. ‘I’m worried about the crew. You know, the ones who were injured.’

  Kia frowned. ‘Tutmose said that none of them were badly hurt.’

  ‘Yes, but . . . some of them seem quite sick.’

  The two women looked at each other. ‘I’m sure the doctor knows best, Hopi,’ said Sheri quietly.

  Hopi fell silent. Sheri and Kia were professionals. Long years of being entertainers at drunken parties had made them cautious, and Hopi knew that they would steer clear of any trouble. So he went back out on to the deck, striding up and down, until at last he saw Tutmose approaching along the riverbank.

  ‘Tutmose!’ he exclaimed, as soon as the doctor reached the deck. ‘I’m glad you’re back. Have you brought more treatments? The crew are growing impatient.’

  The doctor barely looked at him. ‘They can wait,’ he said shortly.

  Hopi was taken aback. ‘But . . . but they are suffering,’ he said. ‘And they seem to be getting angry.’

  Tutmose shrugged dismissively. ‘They are annoyed with Hat-Neb for going hunting,’ he said. ‘They want to reach their destination. The sooner we get there, the sooner they’re paid. Boat crews are all the same.’

  He turned his back on Hopi and disappeared into the cabin. Hopi was bewildered. So Tutmose had not been fetching supplies for the crew. He didn’t seem to care much about them at all. But if that was the case, what had he been seeking in the town – and why had he used a false name?

  .

  Isis closed her eyes as they paddled across the river towards the thick stands of papyrus reeds, with their soft fronds waving in the breeze. As they grew closer, the air filled with the sounds of birds – the twittering of weavers and warblers, the harsher squawks of ducks and geese, and the wild cries of the ibis. Isis opened her eyes again, and was entranced. She forgot that crocodiles might be gliding beneath them. Instead, she felt full of happiness at the beauty of the sunlight glinting through the reeds and sedges.

  The Nubian nosed the boat onwards through the thickets, past vibrant blue lotus flowers and mounds of rich silt. Killer stood right at the front, his whole body tense and eager. Hat-Neb stood up and reached for a throwing stick. A duck broke cover, taking to the sky with a loud quack.

  Hat-Neb didn’t hesitate. He hurled the throwing stick, and it caught the bird neatly across the neck. It fell, fluttering, somewhere ahead, and Killer leaped from the boat. The water was shallow, and the cat bounded through it, barely wetting his paws. He disappeared between the reeds in the direction of the stricken duck. They waited a few moments, and then Killer returned with the bird dangling from his mouth.

  ‘Good work, Killer!’ Hat-Neb praised him.

  Killer jumped back into the boat and dropped his catch. He had finished it off with a neat bite to the back of the neck – it was already dead. Isis stroked its warm feathers, feeling a little sorry for it. But she also loved the taste of roasted duck.

  It was becoming difficult to take the boat further, because the water was so shallow. Hat-Neb motioned to Nebo to stop paddling. Carefully lifting his linen tunic, he stepped out of the boat.

  ‘We will walk from here,’ he said. ‘A little river water will not do us any harm. Come, and I will show you how to use a throwing stick.’

  Isis took his hand and stepped out, followed by Mut. This was a strange, wonderful world: stands of papyrus reeds towered high above her head, and the lotus flowers were dazzling. She picked a delicate blue bloom, and tucked it into her hair as Hat-Neb waded slowly forward.

  Another duck – and he threw his second stick. Again, the bird fell, squawking, and Killer leaped to fetch it.

  Hat-Neb handed Isis a stick. It was gently curved with a kink at one end, and he showed her how to hold it.

  ‘If you miss, don’t worry,’ he told her. ‘I have plenty more and we can collect them all later.’

  Isis held the smooth, strong wood. She was sure she would never be able to throw it hard enough. ‘Like this?’ she asked.

  But Hat-Neb didn’t reply. She turned to look at him. Beads of sweat stood on his forehead, and his hand was clutched to his neck. With a choking sound, he sank to his knees in the mud. Then, slowly, he toppled over.

  .

  CHAPTER SIX

  Isis screamed, and dropped to her knees by Hat-Neb’s head. He was covered in mud and quite unconscious. She and Mut tried to lift him, but he was much too heavy.

  Nebo appeared through the reeds. ‘You let me,’ he said. ‘I do it.’

  The two girls moved to one side to let him take their place. Even for the strong guard, Hat-Neb was a lot to manage. The Nubian grunted as he shifted his master into a sitting position in the mud.

  ‘Is he still breathing?’ asked Mut anxiously.

  Nebo said nothing. His face was grim as the other boat crew appeared. ‘You help me,’ the Nubian growled, looking at Kerem. ‘We put him in the boat.’


  Kerem and the other man stepped forward, and each grasped one of Hat-Neb’s thighs. With Nebo lifting his shoulders, they managed to carry him back to the boat and flop him into it. Hat-Neb stirred. His eyes flickered. He groaned, and his muscles twitched. Then, all at once, he came to life and vomited violently over the side of the boat. Isis clutched Mut’s arm. This was all so frightening and horrible. No one seemed to know what to do; even Nebo seemed unsure.

  Blindly, Hat-Neb wiped a hand over his face. He opened his eyes and stared around, his eyes glassy.

  ‘Drink some water,’ said Nebo, reaching for a flagon in the bottom of the boat. He lifted it to Hat-Neb’s mouth, making him take several large gulps. More dribbled down his chin and on to his linen tunic.

  ‘Enough,’ gasped Hat-Neb, spluttering.

  Killer appeared with the second duck in his mouth, which he dropped silently near the boat. Then he leaped inside and miaowed, his tail twitching. Hat-Neb moved his hand vaguely, and placed it on the cat’s head.

  ‘Killer,’ he mumbled. ‘Good cat.’ He coughed, then struggled to push himself upright. He looked around, his eyes growing clearer now, and registered the circle of faces staring at him anxiously. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘What’s happened here then?’

  ‘We go back to the boat,’ said Nebo. ‘You are sick.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ said Hat-Neb weakly. ‘I am Hat-Neb. The gods protect me. I am fine.’

  The Nubian nodded his head at Kerem, asking him to push the little boat back into deeper water. Together, the three men eased it out of the shallows.

  ‘You get in,’ the Nubian told Isis. ‘Come, I help you.’

  Still feeling a little afraid, Isis took his arm and clambered back into the boat.

  ‘Don’t look so upset, little Isis,’ said Hat-Neb. ‘Just the effects of fine wine.’

  But Isis saw that he was gripping the sides of the boat, and a pale, greenish sheen seemed to shine through the deep gold of his skin.