Orphan of the Sun Read Online Free PDF

always fun, especially with Kenna, who had been a friend from the day when Meryt had been chased up the street by a maddened dog at the age of six. Kenna, then nine, had shooed the creature off with a big stick, and Meryt had been awed by his bravery. Kenna was now sixteen. As the fourth son in his family, he could not become his father’s apprentice and learn the craft of carpentry in the tombs. He had picked up a few skills, but essentially he had no craft of his own. He ran messages to and from the tombs and the village, did general odd jobs for his family, and made little sets of the game
senet
. His uncertain future didn’t seem to concern him, for he was always easy-going and sunny; but Meryt was becoming aware that his father felt differently. She worried for her friend sometimes.
    They passed near the walls of the massive temple of Ramesses II, which shone in brilliant hues in the morning sun, the paintwork still relatively unaffected by the sands that blew across the valley. Following the temple canals, they rode on to the temple of Amenhotep III, one of the oldest on the plain, and beyond, down to the river.
    The early morning market was already in full swing. Kenna and Meryt dismounted and wanderedalong on foot, looking at what was on offer. Some women sat selling produce from gardens – much in demand until the main crop was harvested; others offered reams of fine linen and clothing. The date harvest had begun and mounds of the mud-gold fruit lay everywhere, graded according to quality.
    The sight made Meryt hungry and she offered Kenna some of her coarse brown bread. Kenna looked at it in disgust.
    â€˜What happened to that?’
    â€˜Tia burnt it,’ said Meryt, with a giggle. ‘Have some. It’s tasty, anyway.’
    She ripped off a piece and handed it to him. Kenna took it and chewed it, grimacing. Meryt laughed at him, and handed him a leek. They ate a mouthful of each in turn, heading for the area where the fishermen sat with baskets of their shining catch.
    Kenna waved as they approached. Two of the fishermen were well known in Set Maat. They visited often, because they were employed by the government to supply the villagers with a weekly ration of fish, which formed part of the craftsmen’s wages. Once the fishermen had enough for the ration, they were free to sell whatever else they caught.
    The two men shook their heads as Kenna and Meryt approached. ‘Go away,’ said one, with a grin. ‘We haven’t caught enough yet. We’re just heading out in the boats again.’
    Kenna laughed. ‘Go on,’ he said. ‘I only want six.’
    â€˜Six!’ The fisherman shook his head in mockdismay. ‘Well, as it’s you …’
    He tipped his basket so that Kenna could see inside. Kenna picked out six of the biggest with an expert eye, and handed over his grain for the man to measure out his payment.
    â€˜What’s the news from the east bank, and the north?’ Kenna asked him, as the man measured out enough grain, handed back the surplus and wrapped the fish in fronds of fresh papyrus.
    â€˜Another of the king’s sons died last week,’ said the fisherman. ‘That’s what I heard. That’s two in the last month. They’ll all be coming down for the funerals – the king and half the court.’
    â€˜Must be good for business,’ Kenna commented.
    The fisherman shrugged. ‘I don’t see that end of things, Kenna,’ he said. He smiled. ‘I still have to catch the right amount of fish whatever happens. You’re the hoity-toity lot who get all the bonuses.’
    Kenna looked slightly embarrassed. He placed the fish and the remainder of the grain in his bag. It was true that the families of Set Maat were better off than most, for the craftsmen’s work was valued highly by the king, and their wages reflected that. In the eyes of the peasants who farmed the land or fished in the river,