The Sacred Scarab Read Online Free PDF Page B

Isis sat still, and closed her eyes to let her dance partner encircle them with the black kohl eyeliner, then sucked in her cheeks as Mut brushed on a little red ochre powder.
    ‘I’m dreading this,’ Isis whispered.
    ‘Sorry, Isis,’ murmured Mut. ‘But you’ll be fine without me. Just think – I have to stay in the house with him . The boys are scared he’ll put mice in their beds.’
    Isis grinned, in spite of herself. Then she let out a long, slow breath. She’d be glad when the night was over.
    ‘Everybody ready?’ called Paneb’s voice from down the stairs.
    Isis reached for her linen shawl and slung it around her shoulders. Nefert appeared in the doorway in her beautiful white performance gown, made of linen so fine you could almost see through it.
    ‘See you later,’ muttered Isis.
    .
    The mansion of Abana the tax collector was on the road towards the great temples of Ipet-Isut, where many of Waset’s most gracious homes were situated. The troupe was met at the gate by guards, who ushered them through lush gardens lit up with oil lamps, and guided them to the back of the house. There, servants led them past a courtyard where vast amounts of food and drink were being prepared, then into a little room, where the women removed their shawls and checked their make-up.
    ‘Well, he’s certainly rich,’ commented Nefert. ‘This is one of the biggest mansions we’ve ever visited.’
    ‘Newly rich.’ Kia sniffed. ‘Look at all this new furniture – far too much of it everywhere. The man has no taste at all.’
    Isis was feeling too nervous to take much notice. She wished that Hopi had come, but he didn’t join the troupe at parties in Waset; there was no need. A servant led them into a banqueting hall, where the richest men and women of the town were already milling around, admiring each other’s wigs and sipping wine. Isis wondered which man was Abana. Usually, the host came to talk to the troupe personally, but they had only met servants and guards so far.
    A male servant told them to start playing, and Isis tried to relax. She felt exposed without Mut. It was strange – almost as though her dance partner gave her a kind of shield. She stuck to old routines, ones that she could do without thinking. Gradually, the guests began to sit down and watch. But she still had no idea who the host was.
    The troupe played and danced until the servant said they could stop for a break. He led them back to the same little room, where they were served grapes, figs, slices of melon and beakers of beer.
    Paneb seemed preoccupied, almost angry. ‘How am I supposed to approach Abana when I don’t even know who he is?’ he demanded.
    ‘We can always enquire once we’ve finished,’ said Sheri.
    ‘He’ll be drunk by then.’ Paneb spat out a grape pip. ‘Then what am I going to tell Sinuhe?’
    He paced up and down in a fury. Isis watched him, baffled. She still didn’t understand why Paneb was so bothered about Sinuhe. She thought of the peasant’s rough hands and rougher manners. The longer he stayed in their house, the less she liked him.
    ‘Brother, you must not worry about your cousin too much,’ said Kia. ‘After all, his misfortunes are not your fault. We can do only so much to help.’
    ‘Only so much!’ Paneb glared at his sister-in-law. ‘Kia, you don’t know what you’re saying. I must speak with Abana before the end of the evening.’
    The servant returned to take them back to the banqueting hall. The guests were more boisterous now, and many of the women were drunk. Isis felt everyone’s eyes on her as she danced.
    Not long now , she kept telling herself, not long . . .
    One man in particular seemed to be watching her closely and, as she gave her final bow, he beckoned her over.
    Isis glanced anxiously at Nefert, who put down her lute.
    ‘I’ll come with you, Isis,’ she said.
    They walked over and stood in front of the man, who was surrounded by a group of friends. Isis bowed her head