The Phantom and the Fisherman (2 page)
Ahmose was the same age as Menes but his father was a wealthy corn dealer. “If we can write, the temple will pay us well to work. Maybe one of the lords will give us a job. Yes, being a scribe will make us rich.”
“So why is Master Meshwesh a teacher? Why isn’t he making money at the temple?” Menes asked.
Ahmose took his friend by the arm and dragged him round the corner of the garden wall so they were hidden from the bullying master.
He spoke quickly and quietly. “He was the scribe to Payneshi, the governor of our region. He had to keep a record of all the corn and the animals, the gold and the jewels, the slaves and the wine of Payneshi.”
“An important job,” Menes said.
“But Master Meshwesh used his scribe skills to cheat Payneshi. If Payneshi got two bags of gold then Meshwesh wrote that he had
one
bag of gold, you see?”
Menes shook his head. “No.”
“Meshwesh wrote one bag of gold on the list – and there was one bag of gold in Payneshi’s counting house. The other bag of gold would go into Meshwesh’s pocket, you see?”
“Did he have big pockets?” Menes asked.
Ahmose groaned. “I don’t mean he put it in his pocket – I mean he pinched it. He was caught when the Pharaoh sent a box of jewels to Payneshi and then sent a message to ask if Payneshi liked them.”
“Did he?” Menes asked.
“He never got them! Payneshi realised Meshwesh must have stolen them,” Ahmose explained. “He was furious.”
“Did he get the box of jewels back?” Menes asked.
“No. Meshwesh must have hidden them. He said he knew nothing about them. Payneshi banished Meshwesh from the city of Karnak for five years. Now he’s back to torment us. No one trusts him – no one will give him a scribe job – so he has to be a teacher,” Ahmose said. “See?”
Menes shook his head. “No.”
“No?”
“If he really did hide the treasure then he’d just go and find it.”
“Maybe he forgot where it was,” Ahmose said.
“Would you forget where you’d hidden a fortune?” Menes asked.
Ahmose shook his head. “It’s a mystery … and talking about mysteries why did you ask if I believed in ghosts?”
“Because there’s a foul phantom in the new house at the temple gate,” Menes said. “Old Maiarch is being driven from her home. I have to use my scribe skills. And I have to kill it!”
Ahmose shuddered even though the noon-day sun was scorching the street. “How do you know the phantom won’t kill
you
?” he asked.
Menes shrugged. “It’s a chance I have to take.” He peered round the corner of the wall. Master Meshwesh was dozing in the shade. “Come with me.”
“Are we going to see the ghost?”
“We are going to see old Maiarch,” Menes said as he led the way down the cool alleys that led to the Temple of Horus.
“Is she dead?”
“No, but she nearly died of fright when she saw the phantom,” Menes said. “She woke up in the middle of a moonless night and saw him. Just a shape in the starlight. He was big as an ox. He roared like a hippo when she woke up.”
“You can’t kill a phantom – not a monster like that,” Ahmose said. “You’re a scribe, not a soldier.”
Menes laughed. “And it’s my reed pen I’m going to use to kill him,” he said.
“You can’t stab a phantom with a reed pen,” Ahmose argued.
Menes hurried on. “When the king dies they wrap him as a mummy. And inside the wrapping they put the Book of the Dead.”
“The book is full of prayers that will help the spirit in the afterlife. Protect it from the monsters that are waiting there to attack it. We all need a Book of the dead – even if we aren’t rich enough to be made into mummies.”
Ahmose nodded. “I’ve heard about the monsters. There’s a snake that spits poison at you.”
“And boiling hot lakes,” Menes reminded him.
“Rivers of fire.”
