ABACUS (17 page)

Chapter 28: Mummies

I'm not sure about this,” AP told Nekhti some time later. “I can't just arrive at your house and say I've nowhere to stay.”

“It'll be okay. My mother and father are very friendly—you'll see. If I didn't bring you home, I'd be in big trouble.”

After leaving the temple grounds, they crossed the avenue and began threading their way through the town. Even Kate would have found it challenging navigating the winding roads and alleyways. “They're made of mud brick—the same as yours in the desert,” said Nekhti, nodding toward the small square houses which stood so close together it would have been a tight squeeze walking between them. All had flat roofs and some had a second storey. “I expect your houses have tiny windows to keep out the sun too?”

AP nodded absentmindedly, totally engrossed in his new surroundings. With suppertime approaching, the air was filled with enticing aromas. Most were unfamiliar, though he recognized the smell of charcoal.

“We've got a big house,” Nekhti announced proudly, “with upstairs rooms. And father has a garden out back where he grows all sorts of things.”

When they arrived, Nekhti led the way through the narrow front door. This opened into a dimly lit room occupying the full width of the house. The floor was covered with rush matting. Nekhti's mother, Nefret, was busy preparing a meal in the kitchen area at one end of the room, helped by her two daughters. An open side door was letting in the delicious smells of baking from an oven standing just outside. When Nekhti explained AP's situation, Nefret stopped what she was doing to greet him. “You're welcome to stay with us for as long as you want,” she said enthusiastically. “You'll be much more comfortable here than at the temple.”

Her two daughters—both about Kate's age—were equally welcoming. Like their mother, each wore a simple long dress of thin, cool linen.

“Now the weather's getting hot, you two boys can sleep on the roof,” Nefret continued. Then, turning to Nekhti, “Go and show Aypee around. You've both got time to bathe before supper.”

AP hung back, fascinated by what was going on. Nefret stepped outside to the oven, which looked like a giant upturned flowerpot. After she had peered through the opening at the front to check on the bread, one of her daughters added more charcoal to the fire at the bottom. Meanwhile, her other daughter was kneeling at a low table on the kitchen floor, cutting up a huge fish with a knife. AP started feeling hungry.

“This is where we bathe,” said Nekhti, nodding toward a small room beside the kitchen area. “And the one next to that—well, I'll show you later.” He led the way to the other end of the main room to show his guest the eating and living area. Instead of one large dining table, there were several small ones, and AP was surprised at how low they were—hardly higher than his shins. For seating, there were many low stools, and two chairs with small backs and no arms. “Let's bathe,” said Nekhti, heading back to the small room.

There was no door, just a knee-high wall. Seeing AP hesitate, Nekhti said, “I'll go first.”

The walls and floor were lined with stone—mud brick would have washed away. A tall table stood in one corner, with a large hand basin and two small bowls. One bowl contained a white powder, the other a greasy-looking gray cream. Beneath the table was a tall water jug. Nekhti filled the basin from the jug, adding some of the white powder. “You must use natron for washing in the desert too,” he said, adding a pinch more. [25]

“Er, yes,” AP replied. He knew the Egyptians used natron in mummification, but didn't realize they used it for washing too.

Slipping off his kilt without any embarrassment, Nekhti gave himself a good wash-down, splashing water everywhere. Once he'd dried himself with a linen towel, he rubbed some of the cream into his skin. Then he put on a clean kilt. AP, feeling distinctly uncomfortable, had kept his eyes fixed on the floor.

“You must use a lot of this in the desert,” said Nekhti, rubbing in more of the greasy cream. “That desert air must dry out your skin.”

“Oh yes,” said AP, “I slap it on!”

“Here,” said Nekhti, handing him a clean kilt. “You can use one of mine. Leave your dirty one in the basket—the washing gets done tomorrow.”

“I can't expect your mother to do my washing.”

“Mother?” repeated Nekhti. “Washing may be women's work in the desert, but it's men's work in this part of Egypt.”

AP looked puzzled.

“Clothes are washed in the Nile.” When AP still didn't understand, he explained. “Crocodiles live in the Nile. Sometimes they eat people.”

“Oh, I see. Well, that's one thing about the desert—no crocodiles!”

Blushing brightly, AP bathed himself as fast as he could and got dressed.

Fortunately, the room next to the bathroom did have a door, though it was barely shoulder-high. Nekhti swung it open so AP could look inside. The toilet seat was made of limestone and supported on four blocks. Beneath was an earthenware pot filled with sand. Standing beside it were a water jug, several hand basins, and a bowl of natron. “When you're finished,” said Nekhti, glancing down at the toilet, “the pit's in the garden. I'll show you in a moment.”

AP nodded, as if this was all familiar to him, but he was desperately trying to work out the details of using an Egyptian toilet.

“That's my parents' bedroom,” said Nekhti, pointing to a narrow doorway leading off from the main room. “My sisters share the one beside it.”

“And through here is the garden.” Opening a narrow door, he led the way to a patch of green no bigger than AP's patio back home. “See, we've got a date palm and a fig tree, and father's growing onions, garlic, beans and melons.”

AP was surprised at how much had been crammed into such a small area.

“We've got a well too.” Nekhti pointed to a deep hole in the ground. “And over there, behind the palm, is the pit—for the toilet.”

They reached the second floor by a mud-brick stairway built against the back wall of the house. “This is the bedroom I share with my brothers,” said Nekhti, stepping inside. The windows were tiny, and close to the ceiling, like the ones downstairs. The beds were simple wooden frames, criss-crossed with woven strips of linen and supported on four short legs. Several thick linen sheets were piled on top, to keep out the cold night air. Instead of a pillow, there was a wooden headrest that looked extremely uncomfortable.

“We're going to sleep on the roof,” said Nekhti enthusiastically. He clambered up a flimsy wooden ladder leaning against the rear wall, and disappeared through a small opening in the ceiling. “Come on up,” he called down to AP.

From their vantage point on the rooftop, they could look over the neighborhood. The sun was sinking fast and the first star was shining in a sapphire sky. Off in the distance, AP could see the temple of Horus. As he stood there, gazing across the ancient skyline, an idea popped into his head—the perfect thing for Kate to demonstrate her new powers.

“Let's go downstairs,” said Nekhti, rousing his friend from his thoughts. “My father and brothers have just returned from work.”

The evening meal with Nekhti and his family reminded AP of childhood birthday parties. Everyone was talking at once, and the noisiest of them all was Shedou, Nekhti's father. Beer was the regular drink, for adults and children, and the more beer Shedou drank, the louder he became. AP didn't like the taste, and surprised everyone by sipping from the bowl of water beside his plate. All too late, he realized it was for washing his fingers. Nefret set a jug of water and a cup beside him, and the embarrassing incident was forgotten. AP ate his fill of Nile perch, flatbread and leeks.

“So what are we going to do with you, young Aypee?” roared Shedou toward the end of the meal. “How about coming to work with me and the boys?” Then, turning to Nekhti, he added, “My youngest son doesn't want to join the family business, though he still works with us when he's not playing at the temple!” He guffawed with laughter and his three older sons joined in.

“I don't play at the temple,” Nekhti protested. “I go there to learn about the priesthood. One day I'm going to become an important priest, then you'll all see.”

This made them laugh all the louder, but it was all good-natured. Shedou leaned across from his table and patted Nekhti on the shoulder. “I'm sure you will. Then I might have to start visiting the temple myself!

“So, young Aypee, are you going to come to work with us tomorrow morning?”

“Of course,” said AP, “though I still don't know what work you do.”

For the first time that evening the room fell silent.

“Nekhti hasn't told you?” asked Shedou. Nekhti shook his head. “Well, in that case, we'll keep it as a surprise until we get there.”

Soon after clearing away the meal, everyone started getting ready for bed. AP was surprised at how early ancient Egyptians retired.

AP gazed up at the slimmest crescent moon—a luminous C in a black sky of stars. “There'll be a new moon tomorrow,” he thought, and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

There was a private guest house on the edge of town. Visitors could stay there in seclusion, safe from prying eyes and inquisitive ears. The latest arrival was a man on a mission. From his well-dressed appearance he might have been a nobleman—someone above suspicion. Important people would have accepted him as one of their own. Lesser people would have bent to his will in an effort to please. He had traveled far that day, and retired early. But sleep did not come easily to Robert Drew. His mind was too busy planning his next move. There must be no mistakes this time. Mordax's brats had to be stopped and the chronoverser recovered.

* * *

“Not much farther,” said Shedou next morning, as they walked past the entrance to the temple grounds. “It's around the back, on the far side.”

AP noticed the smell as soon as they rounded the second corner. He thought it might be the drains, and then wondered whether these even existed in ancient Egypt. Nekhti exchanged guilty glances with his friend.

“That's our workshop over there.” Shedou pointed to a large single-storey building standing some distance away from the back wall of the temple compound. Several smaller ones surrounded it.

“Welcome to the House of Embalming and Purification,” Shedou proudly announced.

The words hammered into AP's skull. Seeing mummies in museums never bothered him, but he'd never seen a “real” dead person before.

“Don't worry Aypee,” said Shedou, draping a large arm across his shoulder, “you won't have to see anything you'd rather avoid. Nekhti's never got used to handling bodies, so we give him other jobs. Just stay with him, Aypee, and you'll be fine.”

Nekhti had given AP a pair of old sandals to wear to work, and as he followed his friend into one of the small buildings, they crunched over the white powder covering the floor. There was a huge pile of the stuff at the far end, with a stack of empty baskets nearby.

“We've got to fill them with natron and carry them to this end,” Nekhti explained, “then line them up beside the door.”

They walked to the other end. “Here,” said Nekhti, passing AP an empty basket, “you hold it steady while I shovel.”

Although it was hot and dusty inside, Nekhti said it was far better than being in the workshop. AP had no wish to visit the embalming room, but was intrigued to know what went on there, so Nekhti explained.

“First they give the body a good washing with natron and water—the beginners get that job. After that, they coat the face with hot resin.”

AP looked puzzled

“The sticky stuff from trees,” Nekhti explained. “It goes hard when it sets.”

AP nodded, recalling the sticky beads he'd seen on tree trunks.

“Next, they have to remove all the internal organs, starting with the brain.” At this point Nekhti paused—the basket was full, and they carried it to the far end.

“When they've got all the brain out,” Nekhti continued, “they fill up the braincase with strips of linen dipped in resin.” He purposely avoided giving details of how they removed the brain through the nostrils, after hammering a hole through the skull with a chisel. “Then they pull out the intestines and things, and wash out the space with wine and spices. The embalmer does the same with the chest, but he leaves the heart in place.”

“Why?”

“The dead person needs his heart so he can still think.”

AP nodded—ancient Egyptians believed thinking took place in the heart.

Swapping jobs, AP took a turn at shoveling.

“The embalmers have to pack all the empty spaces in the body,” Nekhti began again, “to keep its natural shape. They use rags, straw, wood shavings—anything will do.”

AP listened intently.

“Once that's been done, they heap the body with natron and leave it for forty days. That draws out all the water. Burying a body in the desert does the same thing, but it gets too shriveled. Embalmed bodies look more lifelike, so it's easier for the person to go on living in the afterlife.”

Nekhti paused. “I forgot about the organs. They cover them with natron too. Then they're wrapped in linen, scented with oils, and put into four special stone pots, called canopic jars.”

After shoveling for two hours, Nekhti said they'd filled enough baskets. Other workers had already collected most of these, but before starting their next job, they delivered one themselves.

Setting the basket down outside the embalming room door, AP couldn't resist a peek inside. The dimly lit workshop was crammed with tables, each with a body at a different stage in the process. He saw several gruesome sights, but the picture that stayed in his mind was of the jackal-headed Anubis, bending over a body to perform some mystical rite. Although AP knew it was only an embalmer wearing a mask, the experience was unsettling.