The Horned Viper (8 page)

He went into the cabin, where Sheri and Kia were resting. They smiled at him as he came in.

‘Is everything all right, Hopi?’ asked Sheri.

‘I’m not sure,’ said Hopi. He hesitated. ‘I’m worried about the crew. You know, the ones who were injured.’

Kia frowned. ‘Tutmose said that none of them were badly hurt.’

‘Yes, but . . . some of them seem quite sick.’

The two women looked at each other. ‘I’m sure the doctor knows best, Hopi,’ said Sheri quietly.

Hopi fell silent. Sheri and Kia were professionals. Long years of being entertainers at drunken parties had made them cautious, and Hopi knew that they would steer clear of any trouble. So he went back out on to the deck, striding up and down, until at last he saw Tutmose approaching along the riverbank.

‘Tutmose!’ he exclaimed, as soon as the doctor reached the deck. ‘I’m glad you’re back. Have you brought more treatments? The crew are growing impatient.’

The doctor barely looked at him. ‘They can wait,’ he said shortly.

Hopi was taken aback. ‘But . . . but they are suffering,’ he said. ‘And they seem to be getting angry.’

Tutmose shrugged dismissively. ‘They are annoyed with Hat-Neb for going hunting,’ he said. ‘They want to reach their destination. The sooner we get there, the sooner they’re paid. Boat crews are all the same.’

He turned his back on Hopi and disappeared into the cabin. Hopi was bewildered. So Tutmose had not been fetching supplies for the crew. He didn’t seem to care much about them at all. But if that was the case, what had he been seeking in the town – and why had he used a false name?

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Isis closed her eyes as they paddled across the river towards the thick stands of papyrus reeds, with their soft fronds waving in the breeze. As they grew closer, the air filled with the sounds of birds – the twittering of weavers and warblers, the harsher squawks of ducks and geese, and the wild cries of the ibis. Isis opened her eyes again, and was entranced. She forgot that crocodiles might be gliding beneath them. Instead, she felt full of happiness at the beauty of the sunlight glinting through the reeds and sedges.

The Nubian nosed the boat onwards through the thickets, past vibrant blue lotus flowers and mounds of rich silt. Killer stood right at the front, his whole body tense and eager. Hat-Neb stood up and reached for a throwing stick. A duck broke cover, taking to the sky with a loud quack.

Hat-Neb didn’t hesitate. He hurled the throwing stick, and it caught the bird neatly across the neck. It fell, fluttering, somewhere ahead, and Killer leaped from the boat. The water was shallow, and the cat bounded through it, barely wetting his paws. He disappeared between the reeds in the direction of the stricken duck. They waited a few moments, and then Killer returned with the bird dangling from his mouth.

‘Good work, Killer!’ Hat-Neb praised him.

Killer jumped back into the boat and dropped his catch. He had finished it off with a neat bite to the back of the neck – it was already dead. Isis stroked its warm feathers, feeling a little sorry for it. But she also loved the taste of roasted duck.

It was becoming difficult to take the boat further, because the water was so shallow. Hat-Neb motioned to Nebo to stop paddling. Carefully lifting his linen tunic, he stepped out of the boat.

‘We will walk from here,’ he said. ‘A little river water will not do us any harm. Come, and I will show you how to use a throwing stick.’

Isis took his hand and stepped out, followed by Mut. This was a strange, wonderful world: stands of papyrus reeds towered high above her head, and the lotus flowers were dazzling. She picked a delicate blue bloom, and tucked it into her hair as Hat-Neb waded slowly forward.

Another duck – and he threw his second stick. Again, the bird fell, squawking, and Killer leaped to fetch it.

Hat-Neb handed Isis a stick. It was gently curved with a kink at one end, and he showed her how to hold it.

‘If you miss, don’t worry,’ he told her. ‘I have plenty more and we can collect them all later.’

Isis held the smooth, strong wood. She was sure she would never be able to throw it hard enough. ‘Like this?’ she asked.

But Hat-Neb didn’t reply. She turned to look at him. Beads of sweat stood on his forehead, and his hand was clutched to his neck. With a choking sound, he sank to his knees in the mud. Then, slowly, he toppled over.

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CHAPTER SIX

Isis screamed, and dropped to her knees by Hat-Neb’s head. He was covered in mud and quite unconscious. She and Mut tried to lift him, but he was much too heavy.

Nebo appeared through the reeds. ‘You let me,’ he said. ‘I do it.’

The two girls moved to one side to let him take their place. Even for the strong guard, Hat-Neb was a lot to manage. The Nubian grunted as he shifted his master into a sitting position in the mud.

‘Is he still breathing?’ asked Mut anxiously.

Nebo said nothing. His face was grim as the other boat crew appeared. ‘You help me,’ the Nubian growled, looking at Kerem. ‘We put him in the boat.’

Kerem and the other man stepped forward, and each grasped one of Hat-Neb’s thighs. With Nebo lifting his shoulders, they managed to carry him back to the boat and flop him into it. Hat-Neb stirred. His eyes flickered. He groaned, and his muscles twitched. Then, all at once, he came to life and vomited violently over the side of the boat. Isis clutched Mut’s arm. This was all so frightening and horrible. No one seemed to know what to do; even Nebo seemed unsure.

Blindly, Hat-Neb wiped a hand over his face. He opened his eyes and stared around, his eyes glassy.

‘Drink some water,’ said Nebo, reaching for a flagon in the bottom of the boat. He lifted it to Hat-Neb’s mouth, making him take several large gulps. More dribbled down his chin and on to his linen tunic.

‘Enough,’ gasped Hat-Neb, spluttering.

Killer appeared with the second duck in his mouth, which he dropped silently near the boat. Then he leaped inside and miaowed, his tail twitching. Hat-Neb moved his hand vaguely, and placed it on the cat’s head.

‘Killer,’ he mumbled. ‘Good cat.’ He coughed, then struggled to push himself upright. He looked around, his eyes growing clearer now, and registered the circle of faces staring at him anxiously. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘What’s happened here then?’

‘We go back to the boat,’ said Nebo. ‘You are sick.’

‘Nonsense,’ said Hat-Neb weakly. ‘I am Hat-Neb. The gods protect me. I am fine.’

The Nubian nodded his head at Kerem, asking him to push the little boat back into deeper water. Together, the three men eased it out of the shallows.

‘You get in,’ the Nubian told Isis. ‘Come, I help you.’

Still feeling a little afraid, Isis took his arm and clambered back into the boat.

‘Don’t look so upset, little Isis,’ said Hat-Neb. ‘Just the effects of fine wine.’

But Isis saw that he was gripping the sides of the boat, and a pale, greenish sheen seemed to shine through the deep gold of his skin.

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Hopi couldn’t bear to stay on the deck any longer. The eyes of the crew followed him everywhere. But he didn’t want to go into the cabin, either, where Tutmose must be sitting enjoying himself with Sheri and Kia. Perhaps they were right. Perhaps it was just a case of waiting until they reached their destination. But the atmosphere on the deck was getting steadily worse, and Hopi longed to escape.

He reached the hatch that led from the deck into the cramped hold and peered into it. Awkwardly, he clambered down the steep, narrow steps, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. At first, he thought there was nothing there – nothing but foul-smelling water swilling around the bottom. But then he began to see more in the gloom: on wooden boards above the water sat sacks of grain, flagons of beer and wine, and caskets of other foodstuffs. Of course – this was where Hat-Neb kept his supplies. There were finer goods, too – bowls, caskets and statues of wood and stone, some of them representing Hat-Neb himself. Hopi listened to the Nile waters lapping the hull of the boat, and gave a sigh of relief. It was much more peaceful than on deck.

A scuttling, squeaking sound caught his attention. There were rats down here! He felt a thrill of excitement. His viper could catch one – it would be wonderful to watch it hunt. He reached for his papyrus basket, then hesitated. Was it really wise to let the viper loose? He weighed it up in his mind. Hat-Neb and the others wouldn’t be back for hours – they had taken their lunch with them. The crew had nothing to do, and no reason to visit the hold. There would be plenty of time to catch the snake before the others returned.

His mind made up, he pulled the papyrus basket from his bag. He wedged it between two sacks, took off the lid and watched as the viper slowly emerged, on full alert, to explore its new environment. At once the snake headed into the darkness between the bags of grain. Hopi felt a pang of anxiety. He couldn’t see it now. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea after all . . .

‘Hopi!’ A voice made him jump. It was Tutmose.

Hopi squinted up at the hatch. ‘I’m here.’

The doctor’s face peered down at him. ‘What are you doing in there? Come on up.’

Hopi looked around the hold. The snake had completely disappeared. ‘Yes, coming,’ he called, trying to catch a glimpse of the viper.

‘Well, come on then,’ insisted Tutmose.

There was no choice. He’d just have to find the snake later. Reluctantly, Hopi climbed back up the ladder and out into the bright daylight.

The doctor seemed surprisingly cheerful. ‘So,’ he said, ‘you were going to teach me something. You haven’t forgotten, I hope?’ He held out a small ceramic jar from the cabin, along with a piece of linen.

‘Oh!’ Hopi was startled. Panic rose in his chest. He had hoped that Tutmose had forgotten the idea – and now the snake was no longer in his basket. ‘N-no . . . it’s just that . . .’

‘Come, we will go to the far shelter.’ Tutmose smiled. ‘No one will disturb us there.’

Hopi tried to smile back, but couldn’t. He gazed down the deck and saw that the crew were watching them, their eyes flitting from Hopi to the doctor and back again. He took a deep breath.

‘I . . . I can’t,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry, Tutmose. I don’t think the viper can be milked after all – it’s not like a cobra. I think it’s better left alone.’

‘What’s changed your mind?’ Tutmose seemed annoyed.

Hopi didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t think of an excuse.

Tutmose looked at him closely. ‘You’ve released it, haven’t you?’ he demanded.

‘No, no – well, not exactly,’ stuttered Hopi.

‘Show me your basket.’

It was no use. He would have to tell Tutmose what he had done. ‘It’s down there. In the hold,’ Hopi whispered.

‘What? Loose?’ Tutmose almost shouted.

‘Sshhh. It’s perfectly safe. I’ve let it out so that it can catch a rat, if it wants to. I’ll catch it again before anyone needs to go down there.’

The doctor’s face filled with anger. ‘How could you be so stupid?’ he hissed.

Hopi scrambled towards the hatch. ‘I’ll catch it again right away,’ he said hurriedly. ‘I was going to anyway. I’m sorry, Tutmose.’

But at that moment there were shouts further along the deck. The crew were on their feet, calling and pointing. Hopi and Tutmose looked out across the Nile to see what the fuss was about. There, just a few paddles’ length away, was the hunting expedition that had set off only a few hours before.

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Isis started calling. ‘Hopi! Sheri! Kia!’ she cried, waving her arms as the little fishing boats reached the shore.

The fishing boats’ owners appeared, looking very surprised to see their property back so soon. Hat-Neb stepped out, swaying, and cursing under his breath. Nebo steadied him, and he tottered up the bank.

‘I must complain to my wine merchant,’ he muttered. With great determination, he struggled across the little harbour to clamber up the ladder of his own boat, then stood leaning on the rail to catch his breath.

Isis followed him up. The first person she saw was Hopi, who was staring at them as though they had come back from the Next World, not just the west bank marshes.

Hat-Neb gulped a few deep breaths, then turned to Kerem. ‘Tell your men to bring up all the flagons of wine from the hold,’ he ordered. ‘I want to inspect them. Then set sail for Djeba.’ Still staggering, he walked along the deck and disappeared into the cabin.