The Spitting Cobra (12 page)

‘That’s right,’ said Hopi.

‘Remarkable,’ murmured the priest. ‘And who is this man? Did you recognise him?’

‘Not at first,’ said Hopi. ‘I only realised who he was this morning. We went into his house and I saw the young boy as well.’ He hesitated. ‘He is a powerful man, that is the problem.’

‘Powerful or not, we must know who he is.’

Hopi nodded. ‘He is one of your foremen. Baki.’

.

Silence fell. Isis felt heavy with fear. If one of the most powerful villagers was behind the robbery, how could they ever bring him to justice?

‘We are doomed.’ Seti buried his bandaged head in his hands. ‘There is no hope. He will make sure that Tiya and I are found guilty. We are condemned, we will be sentenced to death.’

‘Hush, Seti.’ The priest of Serqet marched to and fro, his brow furrowed in thought. Then, suddenly, he stopped. ‘We must not forget the power of the goddess!’ he exclaimed. Snapping his fingers for his servant, Rahotep reached for a flagon of water. ‘Fetch me clean linen cloths,’ he said, ‘and a shallow bowl.’

‘Yes, sir.’ The servant hurried to do as he said.

Rahotep poured water into the bowl, then crouched down in front of Seti. Carefully, he unwrapped the linen bandages. Then he dipped a soft cloth into the water, and wiped away the ointment that covered Seti’s eyes. The flesh around them was still red and puffy, and he dabbed gently so as not to cause pain. Hopi and Isis drew closer, watching him work.

When he had finished, Rahotep cupped Seti’s face in his hands, and stared at him intently. ‘Seti,’ he said, ‘open your eyes.’

It seemed almost impossible, but Isis saw a flicker, and the tiniest slits appeared.

‘What do you see?’ demanded Rahotep.

‘It . . . it’s all blurred.’

Rahotep reached down for the cloth, rinsed it out and wiped Seti’s eyes again.

‘Now,’ he said. ‘Try again.’

This time, the slits were slightly wider. ‘I . . .’ Seti stopped. He lifted one of his hands, and waved it slowly in front of his face. He peered at it, bringing it closer, then taking it further away. He frowned, as though he couldn’t quite believe what had happened. His mouth quivered, then broke into a broad smile. ‘I can see.’ He gave a peal of laughter, and leaped to his feet. ‘I can
see
!’

.

CHAPTER NINE

Seti began to run around the courtyard, calling out the names of everything he saw. ‘It’s a water flagon! A bread oven! A string of onions! Look, look – it’s a beautiful statue!’ he cried, and reached out to touch the scorpion on top of the statue of Serqet. Rahotep smiled, but then lapsed back into his thoughts.

A strange realisation dawned on Hopi. For the first time in his life, he had actually helped someone to recover from the attack of a dangerous snake. Rahotep had said so, hadn’t he?
I have done all I can. But you did more.

‘It’s a miracle!’ shouted Seti. He turned to Hopi and flung an arm around him. ‘Hopi! The goddess has forgiven me, after all!’

Rahotep came out of his reverie. ‘You have received the blessing of the goddess Serqet,’ he said quietly. ‘And Hopi has been her instrument of healing. But come. We must take the next step, and gather witnesses. There is no time to lose.’

The priest of Serqet took Seti by the arm and guided him out of the courtyard towards the street. He seemed calm, decisive, as though he knew exactly what to do. Hopi felt stirrings of hope. Perhaps Rahotep would know how to get the better of Baki, after all.

As soon as they were outside, Rahotep began to call out, ‘Neighbours! Friends! Come out of your houses! Come forth, all those who saw the work of Meretseger this morning!’

He didn’t need to wait long. The day’s events had kept the villagers out on the street gossiping all day. The narrow street began to fill up. In seconds, a crowd had gathered, pushing and jostling towards the priest. Rahotep held up a hand for silence, and drew Seti to his side, placing his other hand on the young painter’s shoulder.

‘Who can say that this man was blinded?’ he asked.

A chorus of voices answered.

‘I saw it! I saw him in the cemetery!’ called one woman.

‘I saw him being carried to your house!’ shouted another.

‘And I helped to carry him down the mountain,’ added a boy.

‘Will you swear to it?’ asked Rahotep.

‘Of course!’ cried the crowd.

Rahotep raised his hand again. ‘Neighbours, you are our witnesses,’ he said, in a solemn voice. ‘This morning, you all saw that Seti was blind. But the goddess has not condemned him. Now he can see!’ He turned to face Seti and raised his arms high to the heavens. ‘Seti, what am I doing?’

Seti rubbed his eyes. ‘You’re putting your arms above your head.’

A murmur rippled through the crowd.

‘He can see. He can see. A miracle! He is blessed! The goddess has lifted her curse!’

‘Meretseger! Let us praise Meretseger! Let us take thanks to her shrine!’

But then Hopi became aware of a commotion at the back of the crowd. The villagers went quiet, and began to part to make way for three men. Hopi’s heart sank. It was Baki, Nakht and Khonsu. They had come looking for Seti.

.

Silence fell as the three men stood before Rahotep.

‘Brother, you know why we have come,’ said Nakht. His voice was sorrowful, as though he were carrying out his duty with great regret.

‘I do,’ said Rahotep. ‘I was indeed expecting you. But things are not as they seem, my brothers.’

Baki clucked his tongue impatiently. ‘We do not have time to listen to your theories, Rahotep,’ he said. ‘We are here to arrest Seti, as you know very well.’

The priest of Serqet did not respond. Instead, he turned to Seti and raised his hand. ‘Tell me,’ he said in a soft voice. ‘How many fingers am I holding up?’

Seti’s face was slowly looking more normal and now his eyes were quite visible under their swollen lids. ‘I can see three,’ he said.

Rahotep nodded. ‘Thank you,’ he said. He turned to the three men. ‘You see, Seti has recovered his sight. The goddess has sent a message, but it may not be the one we thought it was. We need to dig deeper, my brothers.’

Baki scowled. ‘If he can see, so much the better. He will be better equipped to face the accusations against him,’ he snapped. ‘We have spoken to his sister Tiya. She, too, is under arrest. You can’t protect him from his fate, Rahotep.’

A faint smile appeared on Rahotep’s face. Hopi saw that he was ready for this. The priest turned to the crowd. ‘You are my witnesses,’ said the priest of Serqet. ‘Has a miracle occurred among us today?’

The villagers looked at each other. Hopi saw that they were afraid of defying the foremen.

But then one woman nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I saw Seti blinded. And now he can see.’

‘Yes, yes,’ murmured others around her. ‘We cannot deny it.’

Now Rahotep drew himself up to his full height, and began to speak. ‘We all know that the gods are displeased with our village,’ he said. ‘But the gods have sent some very unusual tools.’

The three men looked puzzled. ‘Tools?’ asked Khonsu.

Rahotep indicated Isis and Hopi. ‘Our visitors,’ he said. ‘They are our tools. Hopi has already played a role in Seti’s healing. Now it is time for he and his sister to play another. They are young. They know little of the life of our village. Would you agree?’

‘Well, yes, absolutely,’ said Nakht. ‘But I don’t see –’

‘For that reason,’ Rahotep continued, ‘we can be sure that they are innocent and untainted by the evil in our midst.’ He looked Baki in the eye. ‘They have seen things with fresh eyes, and brought remarkable things to my attention.’

‘So what do you want them to do?’ growled Baki.

‘I ask that they be allowed to enter and search your house, Foreman Baki.’

.

Isis felt stunned. And scared. Foreman Baki was glaring directly at her with smouldering wrath in his eyes.

‘How dare you!’ the foreman roared. ‘Rahotep, you overstep the line!’

‘I am aware of that,’ said Rahotep calmly. ‘That is precisely why I have asked you before witnesses. But, my brother Baki, surely you can have no objection. These two are mere children, due to leave our village today. If there is nothing to find, they will not find it.’

Baki’s big, square face seemed to explode with rage. He turned to Nakht and Khonsu. ‘Brothers, you stand there and say nothing! This is an outrage! A minor priest challenging our authority – such a thing cannot be allowed!’

But Nakht and Khonsu exchanged glances. Nakht looked deeply uncomfortable. ‘My brother . . .’ He hesitated, looking around at the sea of eager faces. ‘This is very difficult. These children can do no harm, and Rahotep would demand nothing without good reason. If you refuse, the people will not be satisfied, and tongues will never stop wagging.’

A murmur of agreement ran through the crowd. ‘Yes! Let the visitors enter!’ shouted a woman from the back.

Isis saw that every villager was agog with curiosity, and guessed that no one had ever dared to challenge the authority of the foremen before. The excitement was tangible, and infectious.

Baki began to protest all over again, but now the crowd was taking matters into its own hands. There was a surge along the street as everyone turned towards the foreman’s house.

A woman reached out and clasped Isis’s hand. ‘Come, come!’ she cried. ‘We will show you the way!’

Isis grabbed Hopi in turn, and let herself be carried along by the tide of people milling and jostling towards Baki’s house. Then she felt herself being pushed to the front. She and Hopi stood before the house that they had entered that morning, looking up into the face of the guard.

‘Open the door!’ cried the crowd. ‘Baki’s servants and womenfolk must come out! The visitors must be allowed in!’

The guard looked flustered. ‘On whose authority?’ he demanded.

A chorus of voices answered him: ‘Foreman Nakht! Khonsu the scribe! The priest of Serqet!’

The guard searched the crowd for confirmation. Isis saw Nakht give a little nod. She stood close to Hopi as the guard brought out Baki’s wife, young daughters and servants. Then she and her brother stepped in. The door closed behind them, and they stood together on the threshold of Baki’s front room, with the sound of the crowd muffled on the street behind them.

.

They stared around the dim mud-brick house with its small but exquisitely decorated rooms. Shafts of light shone in from the courtyard at the back, giving a bluish tinge to the whitewash.

‘Where should we start?’ whispered Isis.

Hopi peered into the front room, which was painted with images of the household gods Bes and Tawaret. There was an altar in one corner and a birthing bed in another, but there were no nooks and crannies that might contain treasure.

‘Let’s take a look at the stores,’ said Hopi. ‘And the back rooms. Baki won’t have hidden anything where visitors might see.’

Isis nodded. She tiptoed forward. ‘It’s creepy, searching somebody else’s house,’ she muttered.

Hopi knew what she meant. He felt as though they were trespassing. They passed the entrance to a storeroom and he ducked his head to check inside. It was gloomy, but as his eyes adjusted he saw sacks of grain, bags of dried beans and lentils, flagons of wine, a string of onions and some garlic, a couple of pots of honey . . . but nothing else. He stepped right inside and felt around the walls.

‘Can you see anything?’ enquired Isis, behind him.

Hopi pulled out of the storeroom, shaking his head. ‘Nothing. Let’s carry on.’

They checked the middle room of the house, and then the back room, which had another storeroom leading off it. Each of the main rooms had fine furnishings – wooden beds with elegant headrests, chairs with pretty inlays and statues of both wood and stone. There were caskets, too, containing linen garments, fine oils and perfumes, wigs and jewellery. But although there were some lovely pieces, there was nothing that looked as though it belonged in a royal tomb.

They searched the courtyard, which was half open to the sky, with just a rough palm-frond roof sheltering one side of it. It contained nothing but firewood, a grain-grinder, a bread oven and cooking implements.