The Sacred Scarab Read Free Page A

hurriedly, taken aback. He opened the door wider. ‘Come and sit in the front room. I’ll fetch him for you.’
    Sinuhe stepped inside, his eyes wide and curious, as though he had never been to the house before. Hopi led him into the room that the family reserved for guests.
    ‘Wait here,’ he said, and made his way upstairs to the room where the adults were talking.
    ‘There’s a man here,’ he announced. He looked at Paneb. ‘He says he’s a relative – your cousin Sinuhe.’
    Silence fell. The women looked at each other, then at Paneb, their expression stunned. But, if anything, Paneb looked even more surprised.
    ‘Who is this man?’ Nefert demanded.
    ‘I . . . I can explain,’ said Paneb. But, as he got to his feet, Hopi saw that his eyes said something else. Perhaps he could explain, but he certainly didn’t want to.

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    CHAPTER TWO
    Isis heard Hopi talking.
    ‘We’ve got a visitor,’ she said, scrambling to her feet. She handed the stirring spoon to Ramose. ‘I’ll go and see who it is.’
    Hopi had already disappeared up the stairs. Tiptoeing forward, Isis peeked into the guest room and saw a man sitting with his head bowed. His skin was a deep, deep brown from long hours working in the sun, and his kilt was shabbier than anything Paneb or Hopi would wear. His toenails were deeply ingrained, not with the dust of Waset, but with the rich black earth of the surrounding farmland.
    Paneb came jumping down the stairs two at a time, and Isis shrank back, out of the way. Nefert, Kia and Sheri followed more slowly, with Hopi limping behind them. Isis met her brother’s gaze and, together, they sidled up to the doorway to watch.
    Sinuhe stood up as Paneb entered. ‘Cousin Paneb,’ he murmured, ‘may the gods be with you. It is too long since we last met.’
    ‘Cousin Sinuhe,’ Paneb responded. ‘It has indeed been a long time. What brings you into Waset? Are you and your family well?’
    ‘We are quite well, thank you,’ said Sinuhe. ‘For that, at least, we can be grateful.’ He hesitated. He looked at the three beautiful women standing behind Paneb, then around the front room with its murals, wooden chairs and caskets. ‘I see that you, too, are well, cousin. The gods have blessed you.’
    Paneb’s face hardened. ‘Yes. We are fortunate, cousin Sinuhe,’ he said. ‘But make no mistake: it is the result of hard work.’
    ‘No doubt,’ Sinuhe responded. ‘I did not come to suggest –’
    ‘Good. Pray, tell us why you have come,’ Paneb interrupted him. ‘Only something of the greatest importance can have brought you here.’ He gestured at the chairs. ‘Please sit.’
    The peasant lowered himself back down. ‘The gods have given me a sign. You must understand – it is they who have sent me, cousin Paneb.’
    Paneb looked at him shrewdly. ‘You’ve come begging, haven’t you?’
    ‘No!’ The word burst from the peasant’s lips. Then his confidence seemed to waver. His gaze slid away, down to the ground. ‘Well, we are desperate, cousin, but I would not have come if the gods had not willed it.’
    Isis stared at him, fascinated. He seemed humble but proud, respectful but angry, all at the same time.
    ‘Go on,’ said Paneb, his voice relenting a little. ‘Explain yourself. What has befallen you?’
    Sinuhe straightened his back again. ‘As you know, our farmland is south of Waset,’ he said. ‘We grow emmer wheat. Each year, the tax collectors come and measure the fields to decide how big our harvest will be. Then they tell us how much we must pay in tax.’
    Isis had heard that the king’s stores were piled high with the best grain in the country, but she’d never quite realised how it got there.
    ‘The tax collectors often demand more than they should,’ said Sinuhe. ‘We are used to that. We are used to them shifting the boundaries, then moving them back again when it suits them. But this year . . .’ he trailed off.
    ‘What has happened?’ Paneb asked