Out of the Black Land - By Kerry Greenwood Page 0,25

is traded for three times its weight in gold.’

‘Come, then you shall learn some Kritian, if I must learn Egyptian,’ she said.

‘Why should I do that?’ I teased.

‘Because it would be sweet to speak again in my own tongue, and I shall never see my home again,’ she responded, and burst into tears.

I was shocked at my insensitivity. I would never be sent away from my country, never have to learn difficult words in another tongue to speak to my captors. I tried to imagine how much she must miss the green island and the sound of her own language, and thought how I would miss the land of the Nile, the speech of the women, the scent of dung fires which kept off mosquitoes, the taste of plum and melon. I imagined it so well that I made myself cry and hugged her close and she wept into my neck, strong sobs which hurt her slim body. When the tears had died down a little, we kissed, I mopped her face with a linen cloth and we began to learn Kritian as I re-drew the kohl around her strange brown eyes.

‘Adelphemou,’ she taught me as my first words, which means, my sister.

Ptah-hotep

The summons from the High Priest of Amen-Re came for dinner the next day, when I had settled my scribes into my office and instructed them in their duties. It was basic record keeping, really, as the master had said. Not difficult, but requiring steady attention and some skill. Few actual orders issued from the office of the Great Royal Scribe, but he acted as auditor for the whole of the nation, expected to uncover fraud and misreporting, to protect the common people from over-zealous officials and extortion, and to oversee the administration of the kingdom.

He was—I was—also responsible for receiving the Nomarch’s accounts, the Chief Watcher’s report on the state of lawlessness in Egypt, and for recording the Lord Akhnamen’s thoughts and orders.

That seemed to be enough for one very youthful scribe whose previous heaviest responsibility had been as overseer of a class of ten boys.

And Pharaoh still had not sent for me. I wondered if he had forgotten me, and if I should ask for an audience with him. Perhaps he was leaving me for a decan to find out if I could avoid assassination for ten days.

That might prove to be harder than I thought.

Meryt had come to me at dawn, brow wrinkled.

‘Lord, someone tried to get into my chamber last night.’

‘There could be many reasons for that,’ I said sleepily. With her beautiful smile and her rounded body, many men would have found Meryt attractive. She shook her head and her earrings chimed.

‘Nothing as innocent as that,’ she protested. ‘Besides, no one would dare. I belong to you, Master. I don’t like this. I heard someone try the door; saw the handle move. Lord, I want to spend some of your gold and make you a gift.’

Her face was solemn, and I shook myself into real wakefulness.

‘You may spend my gold. I will accept your gift,’ I said, matching her seriousness.

‘Thank you. I will be gone perhaps an hour, Master. Wait for me, fasting, if you will.’

‘Very well,’ I agreed. Fasting was no great pain to me. I doused a pang of some unexpected emotion—was it disappointment as to the nature of her gift? Since I had refused her offer of her body, she had not attempted any intimacy. Meryt bowed and left, closing my door behind her.

She had returned within her time, towing a heavy chain behind her. It appeared to be suspended in the air and I was surprised at the size of the hound to which it was attached. He was huge.

‘This is Anubis,’ Meryt informed me. ‘A Nubian hound for a Nubian slave, and he has cost you an ingot of gold, Master.’

Anubis sat down, all paws together, and regarded me with an intelligence which was vaguely disturbing from a canine. He was part-jackal, perhaps, a black, high shouldered dog with a pointed muzzle, long legs and a long whip-like tail. I had seen such hounds racing alongside chariots.

‘He’s a hunting dog, a war-dog,’ I said. ‘Meryt, what have you spent my gold ingot on? He surely will not be comfortable in a palace.’

‘His kind comes from the Mountains of the Moon; my home now lost forever. Such hounds belong to kings, and his father belonged to my father, captured as loot when my village was raided. He is a