The Phantom and the Fisherman (3 page)
“And at the end of it all there’s the Devourer waiting for you. Part crocodile, part hippo and part lion. If you’ve been evil he rips out your heart and eats it!” Menes cried.
“That’s why people need us so much. We can write the prayers that will help them.”
Ahmose smiled. “I see. You have written prayers for Maiarch to drive away the phantom.”
“I have,” Menes said. “She promised to pay me well. Maybe enough to buy my dad a new boat. Without a boat he can’t fish. Without fish to sell my family will starve.”
“I could lend you money,” Ahmose said.
Menes gripped his arm. “Thanks, friend. But it would be better if I could earn it myself. Maybe she’ll pay me today.”
They turned a corner into the great paved square in front of the temple.
“This is Maiarch’s house,” Menes said, leading the way through an arch into a fine garden. There was a large pond with golden fish swimming in sparkling water. Trees gave shade and flowers covered the grass. “Maiarch is very rich,” Menes explained. “She had this new house built just for herself.”
“It’s even bigger than our house,” Ahmose said.
The boys walked into the shadowy darkness of the house. An ancient woman lay on a low couch. Her skin was wrinkled and pale as old parchment. Her eyes were bright as a bird’s.
“Good day, Maiarch,” Menes said. “This is my friend Ahmose.”
“Sit down, sit down,” the old woman croaked. The boys sat on the floor.
“Did it work?” Menes asked.
“Did it work? he says. Did it work? It did not. Hopeless. Useless. Worthless scrap of parchment.”
“The phantom came back?”
“The phantom came back? he says. Came back? He came back twice as large, twice as ugly and twice as evil. He says that if I’m still here when he comes back tonight he’ll crush me like a scarab beetle. And he could too. He’s big enough to crush a crocodile.”
The old woman spread her arms wide to show how big the phantom was. Suddenly she swept her arms forward and pointed at Menes. “So you needn’t think I am paying you anything, young scribe. You’re hopeless, useless, worthless.”
Menes sniffed away a tear. “I’ll try again,” he offered.
“He’ll try again!” Maiarch cackled. “Well you won’t try your silly prayers. They’re hopeless, useless, worthless.”
“Maybe we could try something else,” Ahmose put in.
“Someone will have to do something,” the old woman moaned. “The gods will be very angry.”
“Uh? Why?” Ahmose asked.
“Why? he says. Why? Because the phantom didn’t just disturb my sleep and threaten me. He walked up to my altar … see it there?”
The boys looked at the wall behind them. A lamp lit the stone statue of the god Bes – an ugly dwarf.
“Bes looks after women and children,” Menes said.
“He’s supposed to – my old legs won’t get me to the temple, so I have my own altar in the house. Every day I put fish, bread and beer on the altar for Bes.”
“Does he eat it?” Menes asked. He’d always wanted to know what happened to the food offered to the gods in the temple. They seemed to eat a lot.
“He doesn’t usually eat it,” Maiarch said. “But last night he didn’t even have the chance. When the phantom had finished frightening me he walked up to the altar and pinched all the fish and bread and beer. The cheek of it. He packed it in his mouth and said he’d be back tonight.”
“That’s no phantom,” Ahmose said. “Phantoms don’t eat fish. They eat human spirits. I don’t think you have a ghost, old lady.”
“Here! Here! Here! Watch who you’re calling old,” Maiarch squawked. “I’m only sixty summers old – King Pepi lived to a hundred or more.”
Ahmose sighed. “What I’m saying is you have a common thief. He’s just trying to scare you so he can rob you.”
Menes shook his head. “But why doesn’t he just take what he wants. Old Maiarch can’t stop him.”
