The Plot on the Pyramid (3 page)
The stone reached the edge of the hole and the Boat Gang began to turn it so it would slide down neatly into the space.
Antef shook his whip in Yenini’s face. “I am the servant of Amenemhat. It is the King who tells me what my job is. It’s not your job to tell me my job. It’s my job to tell you your job,” he gabbled. “That’s my job and I’m doing my job – so you do your job or my job will be to send you to the King to be punished.”
“Don’t threaten me,” Yenini roared. He let go of the rope and stepped towards Antef. The little man jumped back in fear. His foot slipped on the edge of the hole and he slipped back into it.
The hole was just too deep for him to climb out. “Throw me a rope you desert snakes, you river rats, you savage scorpions you … you … slimy ox dung!”
Yenini was red with rage. “It is time for lunch.”
“You take lunch when I say you can take lunch! The King is coming this afternoon. He wants to see this stone in place. You will
not
stop for lunch. I forbid it,” Antef wailed. “Get me out of here!”
The Boat Gang looked at each other. They dropped the ropes and walked back down the pyramid for a rest.
Back in the village Nephoris was carrying Pere home …
Yenini’s family lived in a village on the edge of Lisht. That morning the people were working in the shade of the houses but one man worked in the full glare of the sun.
Using precious cedar wood, the artist Oneney was building a large statue.
“Big man,” Pere said.
“Statue,” Nephoris explained. “It’s a statue of King Amenemhat. When he dies the statue will go inside the pyramid with the King’s mummy.”
The King’s statue was almost finished. It was dressed in a white kilt and carrying a shepherd’s crook. The life-sized model had one leg raised as if it was striding forward.
Beside it stood a finished model. A small round man in a wig, beard wig and purple robes, no taller than Nephoris.
“That’s a model of Antef, the work-driver” Nephoris told her brother. “That will go in the pyramid too, so the dead King has company. Dad doesn’t like Antef.”
“Naughty man,” Pere said and slapped the model.
Oneney was painting the crown on Amenemhat’s head a bright red. A bowl was full of red paint.
“Blood,” Pere said as Nephoris carried him past the artist.
Oneney shook his head. “No, young Pere. Beetles. I crush beetles to make the red colour.”
Nephoris shuddered but Pere just looked puzzled.
“Your mother is looking for you,” Oneney told her.
“I heard her calling. What does she want?” Nephoris asked.
Oneney shrugged.
Nephoris’s mother stood at the door of their house holding a small package wrapped in cloth.
“What’s wrong?” Nephoris asked.
Her mother held out the parcel. “Last night the cat caught a rat and left it in the middle of the floor – a nice present for us. I didn’t want Pere picking it up and chewing at it. You know what he’s like …”
“Rat,” Pere said and licked his lips.
“This morning your father set off for the pyramid to work and I packed him some bread and onion like I always do,” her mother went on.
“Yes,” Nephoris said.
