Six for Gold by Mary Reed, Eric Mayer Read Free Book Online Page B

Minotaur the day before.
    “Pharos? Yes! Remember good! Yes?” The shopkeeper grinned, showing big teeth akin to granite blocks.
    Peter shook his head and tapped his satchel.
    The shopkeeper displayed one of the crude clay flasks, no bigger than his thumb. “Holy oil! Yes? Remember good! Yes?”
    Peter would have liked to buy a souvenir for the master, something featuring a pyramid. Under the circumstances he couldn’t part with so much as a nummus. He shook his head and showed the man the silks.
    When the shopkeeper understood the type of transaction Peter sought, his smile vanished. He pointed toward the end of the alley. “Pedibastet,” he said and turned away.
    Pedibastet’s establishment was one of the most curious Peter had ever encountered. Not even in Constantinople had he seen a shop selling cat mummies.
    Pedibastet sat on his haunches in front of his place of business. He was a swarthy man with an elongated face. His tunic was black, and his hair shone like ebony. On the ground before him lay his wares, feline corpses whose bodies were concealed in grubby wrappings reaching to their necks. Peter couldn’t help thinking of Anubis, guarding the dead.
    The purveyor of cat mummies stood up, bowed, and introduced himself. “I can tell you have journeyed from afar. I bid you welcome. Would you care for refreshment?” His Greek was not the best, but compared to the seller of souvenirs he might have been an orator.
    “Refreshment?” Having endured the sun beating on his head like a hammer for hours, Peter was tempted by the prospect of a sip of wine.
    Pedibastet motioned toward his shadowy doorway. A stout youngster, also garbed in black, darted out with a brimming cup which he pressed into Peter’s free hand before vanishing back into the darkness.
    “You will surely honor me by accepting my humble hospitality,” Pedibastet smiled. “After you have drunk my poor wine may I draw to your attention my offerings? Expensive they may be, I admit, but few in Alexandria have such wonderful samples of increasingly rare items, reminders of a time so ancient that not even the oldest of the old can recall it. In short…”
    A sweep of his hand took in all of Egyptian history and his stock of recumbent felines equally. “I have for sale,” he went on, “having obtained them at great expense and not a little danger, I may add, authentic mummies of the animal sacred to the great goddess Bast.”
    Peter looked at the small, log-like bundles topped by shriveled feline heads resembling large, whiskered raisins. Here and there tufts of fur protruded untidily between the wrappings.
    “Well…” His tone was doubtful. “I am not certain what purpose the mummy of a cat would serve in my master’s household.”
    The man waved his hand again. “You are obviously newly arrived in Egypt, my friend. Have you never heard of the luck of Bast? Your master is wealthy?”
    Peter agreed that was the case. He didn’t mention that the only wealth currently at his master’s disposal was in Peter’s possession.
    “In that case, your master would most certainly be interested in one of my little friends. An interesting and unusual memento of his visit, and of course the ladies do love the dear little things. Think how delighted he would be to display such treasures, timeless reminders of his journey to Egypt. Why, I would even lower my price for one such as he, for I am certain he is a man of culture, of great taste. See, already the luck of Bast is working for him! Take this beauty, for example.”
    He picked up a bundle that looked much like the rest, Peter thought. Indeed if anything it was somewhat more soiled than the others.
    Glancing around and lowering his voice as if he feared their conversation might be overheard, Pedibastet went on. “This cat came from the garden of the temple to the goddess of love. The temple lies in ruins now, but descendants of the sacred cats live there still. There are those who feed them, since