Orphan of the Sun Read Online Free PDF Page B

they were rich. ‘Bonuses from the king are good for everyone in the long run,’ he said. ‘We come and buy your surplus, don’t we?’
    â€˜True, true,’ laughed the fisherman. ‘You have to look on the bright side.’
    Slinging his bag over the donkey’s withers, Kennaturned to Meryt. ‘I’ve some grain left over. Let’s buy some dates.’
    With a big handful of dates each, they began to lead the donkey back towards the village. When they reached the temple of Amenhotep III, they decided to rest for a while. The king’s shrine was now neglected, as he faded from people’s memory; so the area around this temple was often deserted. Kenna hobbled the donkey and they sat in the shade of the temple walls to finish the dates.
    â€˜So what’s your news?’ asked Kenna, idly throwing the date stones at a pecking hoopoe. ‘Any gossip?’
    Meryt bit into another date, not sure how to answer. A strange feeling crept over her. There was, of course, the proposal from Ramose, but she held back from speaking of it. Dedi’s strange suggestion about Kenna came back to her and she found herself blushing.
Such friends can become lovers …
    â€˜Nothing much,’ she said.
    â€˜I don’t believe it,’ said Kenna, with a laugh. ‘There’s always plenty of gossip to report.’ He looked at her quizzically.
    â€˜Tanefru’s newborn is sick,’ said Meryt hurriedly, for something to say.
    Kenna leant back against the temple wall. ‘Another sick child. This is nothing new.’
    â€˜True.’ Meryt leant back beside him, and they lapsed into silence. Another hoopoe flew down to join its mate, making a flutter of its brilliant feathersas it landed. Meryt watched it, thinking about Ramose, and her devotional ostracon. She wondered how long it would take the goddess to answer her. A few days? A few weeks? It was impossible to know.
    A movement caught her eye, and she looked up. She nudged Kenna. ‘Look. It’s Nofret,’ she whispered.
    Nofret was scurrying past the temple, and seemed to be making her way towards the river. Her head was bowed, and it was clear that she hadn’t seen them.
    â€˜I caught her heading out of the village last night, on her own,’ said Meryt. ‘She wouldn’t say where she was going.’
    Kenna snorted. ‘It’s no big secret,’ he said. ‘Userkaf has hired her out, that’s all. How come you didn’t know?’
    â€˜Hired her out?’ demanded Meryt-Re. ‘Who to? Someone outside the village?’
    Kenna nodded. ‘She’s working as a servant girl in the embalmers’ workshops in the Fields of Djame.’
    â€˜The Fields of Djame!’ Meryt was astonished. The Fields surrounded the great mortuary temple of King Ramesses III, and as such were part of the main administrative centre for this side of the river. The king himself would be embalmed there, and in the meantime it was wealthy officials and royalty who kept the embalmers busy. ‘How ever did Userkaf manage that?’
    â€˜You know what he’s like,’ said Kenna, with ashrug. ‘He’s always done things differently. He’s ambitious, and makes friends in high places. He probably knows the chief embalmer or something.’
    It was true. Userkaf was a vibrant character in the village, a draughtsman by trade but an unlikely one: his flamboyant behaviour was at odds with the fine concentration and precision required in his work. He was fond of wine and beer and was always first to appear at parties. Rumour had it that he was fond of other men’s wives too, but that was harder to prove.
    â€˜But she looks so nervous all the time,’ commented Meryt. ‘She’s been miserable for weeks.’
    â€˜You would be too,’ said Kenna. ‘The embalmers’ workshops are gruesome places. They’re filled with the stench of flesh and