I dropped Ta-Miu before his eyes reached mine. As the cat leaped away, I swept one arm down to pick up the hunting bow, plucking an arrow from the quiver with the other. An instant was all I needed to pull back the bowstring, aim, and let the shaft fly. It whizzed through the darkness and struck him in the shoulder with such force that he lost his hold on Samut’s son and staggered back, dropping his dagger. Samut snatched his child into his arms and ran.
“I hear you!” I shouted back at the writhing, sobbing villain who had dared to threaten a helpless child. “Now you hear me!”
7
A PRINCE IN DENDERA
With his son safe at home once more and back in Kawit’s care, Samut summoned every able-bodied worker in his village to sweep through the surrounding countryside and capture the would-be tomb robbers. They found two of the three soon enough—the cold-voiced one was discovered hiding in a dry streambed, and the one I’d hit didn’t get very far before the men tracked him down by following the scattered drops of blood from his wounded shoulder. Samut told us how the two of them had been marched off to Thebes for judgment.
Kawit’s brother remained unaccounted for.
“She has him hidden in her house,” Samut told us when he came to our refuge the next morning. “She’s going to send him back north to Per-Bast as soon as they stop searching for him. I think that this time he’ll try to make a different sort of life for himself once he gets there.”
“He might succeed if he finds better companions,” I said.
Amenophis wore a long face. “He’s as guilty as the others of abducting your son and of beating you. How can you let him go free?”
Samut looked sheepish. “He was the youngest of those three, and a weak-willed soul. Even when we were growing up together, he was always too eager to be everyone’s friend, too willing to do anything in order to be accepted. And he’s Kawit’s kin; she still loves him, even though she says she wants to break his head open and stuff some common sense into it. I can’t stand the thought of how heartbroken she’d be if Pharaoh’s officers took him into custody. Let him have a second chance, for her sake; that’s what I say.”
“It’s wrong—” Amenophis began.
I laid my hand on his forearm. “It was Samut’s son in danger. If he can forgive Kawit’s brother, can’t you?”
We spent that day enjoying more of the tomb worker’s generosity. He brought us plenty of food and drink, as well as a new dress for me, one that had belonged to his late wife. There were even treats for Ta-Miu, the fish I’d promised her.
“I wish I could entertain you properly, in thanks for all that you’ve done for my boy and me,” he told us. “Why can’t you come out of this place and stay under my roof?”
“We have our reasons,” I replied. “Please don’t insist on hearing them. I can swear by any god or goddess you choose that we’ve done nothing wrong.”
Samut bowed low. “Forgive me, my lady. I’m a fool who puts his nose where it doesn’t belong. Of course you’ve done no wrong! I only asked because I yearn to do something more for you, to show my gratitude.”
“Do you have a boat to take us to Dendera?” Nava asked pertly.
Samut had no boat, but he saw to it that we did soon enough. He left us on our own for most of the day, and when evening came, Kawit was the one who brought our food and more.
“Make yourselves ready,” she said, setting down her basket. “My Samut—I mean, Samut has arranged for you to travel onward.” The covered basket that held our evening meal also contained a razor, a container of kohl, and a tiny flask of scent.
I pounced on the kohl with a happy cry. The black powder was more than just a way to make our eyes look larger; it protected them from the glare of sunlight and kept insects at bay, too. “It’s been ages since any of us painted our eyes! No wonder mine feel so tired. Come here, Nava, and let me do yours for you; then do you think you can do mine?”
“Allow me to do that for you, my lady,” Kawit said. “But first, let me fetch some water and I will shave your head for you, young master.” She inclined her head to Amenophis. “Samut regrets he doesn’t have any fine clothes to give you, but if you smell important, people will treat you better.” She handed him the vial of perfume.
“I couldn’t take this from him.” Amenophis raised his hands. We both knew how costly such a thing was and how precious the flower essences must be to our friend Samut. Why would a tomb worker spend his hard-earned livelihood on such a thing if he didn’t pine to own it? Every human soul I ever knew was happier if he or she could find some small touch of beauty to adorn their lives—a jewel, a hair ornament, a brightly colored belt, or this dab of sweet scent. “And why would he think I’d need to … smell important?”
“You’re going to Dendera, aren’t you? Samut said to me there’s got to be a reason for you three to head there now, when Hathor’s festival’s making the whole city rejoice. Folks feel more generous and forgiving at such times.” She got a knowing, conspiratorial look in her eyes. “Maybe even the same folks who don’t want you two to marry, hmm?”
Sweet Isis, she thinks we’re love-struck runaways with disapproving parents! I thought. I was about to correct her when a second thought crossed my mind: Oh, dear. That really isn’t so far from the truth. I could just imagine Aunt Tiye’s reaction when she found out that Amenophis and I were more than friends. It was as if Thutmose’s unfounded, jealous suspicions had been so strong that they’d become real. And what would my own parents have to say about it? If I ever fought my way free of Thutmose’s false, vicious charge of blasphemy and could reclaim a normal life, how would Father and Mery react if I married Amenophis?