The Sacred Scarab Read Free Page B

quietly.
    Sinuhe clasped and unclasped his hands, and took a few shallow, gulping breaths. ‘A plague,’ he whispered. ‘A plague of mice.’
    The room went still.
    ‘We thought we were lucky,’ Sinuhe carried on. ‘We had a bumper crop – we even harvested early, earlier than all our neighbours. The stores of grain were waiting for Abana and his men, and then –’
    ‘Abana?’ Paneb interrupted. ‘I know that name.’
    ‘He is the new chief tax collector. They say he has come from the north.’
    Paneb seemed to stiffen, but he said nothing.
    ‘Tell us about the mice,’ prompted Sheri.
    Sinuhe’s hands began to tremble. ‘During the time that our grain was stored, they multiplied,’ he said. ‘But we didn’t even notice them until it was too late. They were hidden in the depths of the store, breeding and feeding . . . feasting.’
    ‘How much of the crop was lost?’
    ‘We managed to salvage some of it.’ He shook his head. ‘But, in fact, this was our greatest misfortune.’
    Paneb looked puzzled. ‘How?’
    ‘We hoped that the tax collectors would be reasonable. But when they saw that we had some grain, they demanded the full amount of tax. We protested, but there was nothing we could do. They took everything – our whole crop.’
    Silence fell. Paneb stroked his chin. Isis could tell that the story disturbed him deeply but, at the same time, she saw doubt on his face.
    ‘And what is it that you want me to do, cousin?’ he asked eventually.
    ‘Cousin Paneb, you are a man of Waset,’ said Sinuhe. ‘You are wealthy, with many connections. Give me some of your grain to tide us over. And, I beg you, use your influence to bring us justice.’
    Paneb looked genuinely astonished. ‘ Wealthy? ’ he echoed. ‘This is madness. We are not rich! We are performers – we never know from one week to the next where our food is coming from.’
    Isis saw disbelief spread across Sinuhe’s face. ‘But . . .’ He gestured around him. ‘Cousin, you say this, and yet you live in ease and comfort.’
    Paneb’s face darkened. ‘You think our life is easy?’
    ‘Try toiling under the sun, cousin.’ Sinuhe’s voice had a bitter edge to it. ‘That is what you –’
    ‘Enough!’ Paneb’s voice boomed, and the peasant seemed to cower before him.
    Isis saw Nefert shoot a glance at her husband. She stood up and smoothed her hands over her white gown. ‘I see you are troubled and tired,’ she said to the stranger. ‘No doubt you are hungry, too. Let us give you something to eat and drink. When you have rested, we can speak of this again.’ She turned around. ‘Isis, go and fetch some beer. Hopi, take some grain from the store and buy fresh bread from a neighbour.’
    Paneb gave a little nod of agreement to his wife and the taut features of the peasant softened a little.
    ‘Thank you,’ he said. He licked his dry, cracked lips. ‘I am very grateful.’
    .
    Hopi and Isis hurried out of the room, and dived inside the storeroom so that they could speak.
    ‘What a story!’ gasped Isis. ‘Do you believe him?’
    Hopi looked at her in surprise. It had never crossed his mind that Sinuhe might be lying. After their parents had died, he and Isis had known all about poverty and hunger. Perhaps his sister was too young to remember, but he could recognise the symptoms only too well.
    ‘Yes,’ he whispered. ‘He’s telling the truth, Isis. Why wouldn’t he be?’
    Isis pursed her lips. ‘Didn’t you see? Paneb doesn’t like him at all.’
    ‘Perhaps. But that doesn’t mean he’s lying. I believe what he said about the mice and the tax collectors.’
    ‘Oh, I believe the mice part,’ said Isis. ‘But there’s something funny about him, Hopi. Why hasn’t he seen Paneb for all this time?’
    Hopi reached for a little linen bag and scooped some grain from the top of one of the sacks. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘There’s bound to be a good reason.’ He tied a knot in the top of the bag, and