ruthless as we suspected him to be. Isis and Hopi have discovered his store of stolen grain, and he wants to make sure they’re silenced. His guard is hunting for our house as I speak.’
Alarm spread over Paneb’s features. ‘Then we must –’
‘Wait.’ Nefert held up one hand. ‘Before we do anything at all, we must settle our own issues. I’m tired of fighting something I don’t understand. Why is it that Sinuhe can make such demands upon us?’
Isis and Mut exchanged glances. Isis felt excited and scared all at once. Silence fell, until at last Paneb spoke.
‘Very well, I can’t hide the truth any longer,’ he said.
Isis waited, holding her breath.
Paneb carried on, ‘Sinuhe is not a distant cousin. He and I grew up together on the land he now farms. Our fathers were brothers and they both died young.’
Isis stared from one man to the other. They were so very different – Paneb with his soft, plump body and beautiful linen kilt; Sinuhe with his dark, wizened skin and shabby loincloth. She could barely believe it.
‘Our grandfather held our birthright,’ Paneb continued. ‘It was symbolised by an obsidian scarab that had passed down through the generations. I had no wish to lead the life of a peasant and I left . . . I left everything to Sinuhe.’
The scarab that Isis had found! But now it was broken . . .
‘You mean you ran away,’ said Sinuhe, his voice bitter. ‘You left me with nothing but hardship. You left me with your mother as well as my own, and with all our unmarried sisters.’
Isis saw shame creep over Paneb’s features. It clearly pained him deeply to think about his past.
‘But, cousin, you were given the birthright,’ he said. ‘You were given the fields. I had nothing. I was nothing for a long, long time: a man with no family trade. Believe me, my body grew leaner than yours is now.’
‘A young man on his own can always survive,’ retorted Sinuhe. ‘You fled your responsibilities. I am the one who has toiled year in, year out to grow crops. I am the one who cared for your family. I am the one who bore the greatest burden, and it is a burden I shouldered alone.’
Paneb looked close to tears. ‘I am sorry, my cousin,’ he said. ‘Everything you say is true. I failed my family. I failed you. I should have stayed to help you farm the land and pay the king his taxes.’
It was a tense moment. Everyone was astounded to hear the truth about Paneb’s past. Then, to Isis’s surprise, Nefert stepped forward and placed her hand in her husband’s.
‘These were the faults of his youth,’ she said to the peasant. ‘Paneb has grown up now. He has us. He protects us – a wife and her widowed sisters – and he chose to take two orphans under his roof.’
‘That may be so,’ Sinuhe muttered. ‘But my family’s belly is empty.’
Paneb seemed to gain strength from Nefert standing at his side. ‘You are right, cousin,’ he said. ‘And believe me, I have been trying to make amends. Your burden has weighed very heavily upon me. But what Nefert says is true: we now face the anger of Abana, and I must protect us all. We have no time to lose.’
Sinuhe nodded reluctantly. ‘Very well. I have seen for myself what Abana can unleash on a family. I will do whatever you say.’
‘Thank you, cousin.’ Paneb looked around at everyone. ‘We must leave the house at once,’ he said. ‘Isis, run to Meryt-Amun’s house to see if they will take us in for the night. We’ll take everything we need for the festival, and board up the door.’
As the women began to pack away their instruments, Paneb turned to Sinuhe. ‘You, my cousin, can rest in the shade on the street, and tell the guard that we have fled.’
Relief spread around the room as Paneb took charge. Isis ran to the door, then looked back to see that Paneb’s face was grave.
‘Never let it be said again that I have failed to look after my family,’ he finished, and drew himself up tall.
.
CHAPTER
Alarm spread over Paneb’s features. ‘Then we must –’
‘Wait.’ Nefert held up one hand. ‘Before we do anything at all, we must settle our own issues. I’m tired of fighting something I don’t understand. Why is it that Sinuhe can make such demands upon us?’
Isis and Mut exchanged glances. Isis felt excited and scared all at once. Silence fell, until at last Paneb spoke.
‘Very well, I can’t hide the truth any longer,’ he said.
Isis waited, holding her breath.
Paneb carried on, ‘Sinuhe is not a distant cousin. He and I grew up together on the land he now farms. Our fathers were brothers and they both died young.’
Isis stared from one man to the other. They were so very different – Paneb with his soft, plump body and beautiful linen kilt; Sinuhe with his dark, wizened skin and shabby loincloth. She could barely believe it.
‘Our grandfather held our birthright,’ Paneb continued. ‘It was symbolised by an obsidian scarab that had passed down through the generations. I had no wish to lead the life of a peasant and I left . . . I left everything to Sinuhe.’
The scarab that Isis had found! But now it was broken . . .
‘You mean you ran away,’ said Sinuhe, his voice bitter. ‘You left me with nothing but hardship. You left me with your mother as well as my own, and with all our unmarried sisters.’
Isis saw shame creep over Paneb’s features. It clearly pained him deeply to think about his past.
‘But, cousin, you were given the birthright,’ he said. ‘You were given the fields. I had nothing. I was nothing for a long, long time: a man with no family trade. Believe me, my body grew leaner than yours is now.’
‘A young man on his own can always survive,’ retorted Sinuhe. ‘You fled your responsibilities. I am the one who has toiled year in, year out to grow crops. I am the one who cared for your family. I am the one who bore the greatest burden, and it is a burden I shouldered alone.’
Paneb looked close to tears. ‘I am sorry, my cousin,’ he said. ‘Everything you say is true. I failed my family. I failed you. I should have stayed to help you farm the land and pay the king his taxes.’
It was a tense moment. Everyone was astounded to hear the truth about Paneb’s past. Then, to Isis’s surprise, Nefert stepped forward and placed her hand in her husband’s.
‘These were the faults of his youth,’ she said to the peasant. ‘Paneb has grown up now. He has us. He protects us – a wife and her widowed sisters – and he chose to take two orphans under his roof.’
‘That may be so,’ Sinuhe muttered. ‘But my family’s belly is empty.’
Paneb seemed to gain strength from Nefert standing at his side. ‘You are right, cousin,’ he said. ‘And believe me, I have been trying to make amends. Your burden has weighed very heavily upon me. But what Nefert says is true: we now face the anger of Abana, and I must protect us all. We have no time to lose.’
Sinuhe nodded reluctantly. ‘Very well. I have seen for myself what Abana can unleash on a family. I will do whatever you say.’
‘Thank you, cousin.’ Paneb looked around at everyone. ‘We must leave the house at once,’ he said. ‘Isis, run to Meryt-Amun’s house to see if they will take us in for the night. We’ll take everything we need for the festival, and board up the door.’
As the women began to pack away their instruments, Paneb turned to Sinuhe. ‘You, my cousin, can rest in the shade on the street, and tell the guard that we have fled.’
Relief spread around the room as Paneb took charge. Isis ran to the door, then looked back to see that Paneb’s face was grave.
‘Never let it be said again that I have failed to look after my family,’ he finished, and drew himself up tall.
.
CHAPTER
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