House of Dreams by Pauline Gedge Read Free Book Online Page B

The subject of the famine often came up in the summers, spoken of with worried speculation before the village women moved on to lighter topics.
    “It was predicted, you know,” my mother’s friend was saying. “The oracle at Thebes warned the Osiris One and his evil foreign Viceroy before it happened, but I suppose there was such disorder in the country that no one took any notice. You don’t care about famine when you are about to be slaughtered in your bed.”
    My mother gave a non-committal grunt and leaned back against the wall, wiping her neck and the depths of her considerable cleavage. I saw her eyes close. She disliked sensational conversation, preferring to dissect the small failings and harmless secrets of her neighbours.
    “I hear that an oracle is coming to Aswat,” the other woman went on, “a very famous Seer consulted by Pharaoh himself. He wants to commune with our own oracle, the Lord Wepwawet’s I mean of course, here in our temple.”
    “What about?” my mother murmured with a sigh. Her eyes remained closed.
    “Well it seems that Great Horus is building a fleet of ships to go trading to Punt and the Red Sea and even the Indian Ocean and with Wepwawet being a God of War the King needs to know whether or not it will be safe to send them out.” She turned to my mother and spoke conspiratorially. “After all, Ramses has had to go to war three times in the last twelve years. He can’t want his ships set upon when they’re coming back, loaded with the treasure he so badly needs!”
    My mother opened her eyes. “And how do you know what our Divine Incarnation needs?” she said sharply. “That is not our business. Finish your beer, impertinent one, and tell me how your sons are doing in school.”
    Her friend was not abashed. She was my mother’s favourite companion because she could not be daunted. She had straightened and taken breath to resume the onslaught when I interrupted her.
    “This Seer,” I said. “When is he coming? How long will he stay? Will he give readings for the villagers as well as consulting with Wepwawet’s oracle?” I was strangely excited, my lethargy gone.
    She smiled at me, her teeth a sudden white flash in the bronze of her face. “I don’t know,” she admitted, “but my husband says he will come within the week. The priests have been cleaning and praying as though Pharaoh himself was going to appear. Ask Pa-ari. He’ll be able to tell you more.”
    “Don’t get any foolish ideas, Thu,” my mother said easily. “Even if the man agrees to read for people here in the village, his fee will be high and you, my little bleating lamb, will not be considered.” To soften her words she refilled my beer cup and gestured for me to drink. “You could hardly offer him your services as an apprentice midwife!”
    I grimaced at her, shrugged in silent agreement, then drank, but my thoughts were suddenly busy. What could I offer such a man to induce him to gaze into my future and tell me once and for all whether I would ever leave this place? The women were laughing kindly at me, then they turned back to each other. My mother’s friend said coyly, “I hear that a certain man came to see you late one night to obtain a handful of colocase. Oh I know you won’t talk, my dear, but the implications are quite delicious.”
    I was not interested in the desire of the man in question to cure his sterility. I was no longer listening to the increasingly drowsy conversation. Rolling onto my back I put my hands behind my head and gazed up into the harsh blueness of the sky. I would have to confirm this snippet of information with Pa-ari, make sure it was not a tale that had grown larger and more distorted in the telling. And if it was true, what payment could I offer a mighty Seer? What would he accept? I had nothing of any value—three sheaths, a simple bone comb to hold back my hair, a necklet of yellow-painted clay beads, a pretty cedarwood box my father had brought home for me