“Dje-Nefer?” Meryt-Re called. “Oh, there you are.”

“I’m coming,” said Jennifer, tearing her gaze away from the striped canopy. “Sorry.”

Who had that man been? She couldn’t resist taking one last peek, but he was gone. She could just see the heels of one of the boys disappearing around a corner.

“Come on,” said Meryt-Re, leading her back into the middle of the street. Jennifer looked up at the buildings they were passing. They didn’t seem to be the same ones they had passed on the way to the market. Perhaps Meryt-Re had decided to take a different route home.

Meryt-Re led her around some tall stone columns, their every surface covered with hieroglyphs. Carvings in the stone were painted with bright blues, reds, and oranges. Jennifer stared up and up, to the very tops of the columns, which were capped with rounded blocks. Beyond them, a bird circled high above in the cloudless blue sky. Jennifer’s eyes watered in the glare from the sun.

“Whatever are you gawking at, Dje-Nefer?” asked Meryt-Re. “You act like you’ve never seen these before.”

Jennifer’s head snapped down. “I, uh, thought I saw a hawk.”

“A hawk? That’s a good omen,” said Meryt-Re. “Come along now, and mind you don’t stumble. There are rough stones here.”

Meryt-re turned a corner, and Jennifer dutifully followed, her gaze focused on the ground. She raised her eyes for a moment and stopped dead.

Before them was a ribbon of shining dark water, glittering in the sun. A wide stretch of black mud led down to it on either side. On the far bank, a few palm trees dotted the edge. Beyond that, the desert spread out over the land, rising in high, soft dunes of pinkish-brown sand. Farther away, the dunes flowed up against walls of craggy ivory stone that jutted into the sky.

“Great Hapi must be very sad,” said Meryt-Re, shaking her head. “The Nile is so low.”

The Nile! Jennifer grinned. The source of life and water for all of Egypt.

“I have never seen the river so depleted,” Meryt-Re continued. “The canals are down to a mere trickle. Look, you can see it has gotten even lower since just a week ago. The nilometer isn’t even in the water anymore.”

Nearby, a man was cursing and struggling to push his reed boat away from the shore, where it was stuck fast. He swore again as he bumped against a spindly wooden structure with a sling tied to one end of a long pole. The sling lay flat on the ground, well away from the water.

Meryt-Re was eyeing it, too. “It will be harder to get water without the use of the shaduf,” she said. Her voice lowered. “Seven years, we’ve had this drought. The Nile’s annual flood has been sickly, hardly raising the level at all. I fear that not just Hapi, but perhaps all the gods, are not pleased with our Pharaoh, may Ma’at guide her soul.”

Jennifer’s head came up.

“Her?” she blurted. “Pharaoh” meant King, never Queen. All the Pharaohs had been male—except one. Could it be?

“Yes,” said Meryt-Re, giving Jennifer a small frown. “Her Majesty Hatshepsut must surely be worried. The drought has all but emptied our country’s grain storehouses.”

Jennifer nodded, and tried not to smile. Hatshepsut! The famous female Pharaoh. She had taken the throne after her half-brother, Thutmose II, had died when his only son was just a baby. Despite the fact that only men could call themselves Pharaohs, she had taken the title. If the stories could be believed, she had even worn men’s clothing and a Pharaoh’s false beard.

Meryt-Re suddenly grabbed Jennifer and ran to the side of the road. Jennifer peered around her trying to see what was coming this time. Another sedan chair? She glanced at Meryt-Re, who stood rigid beside her, her lips compressed into a thin line, although her face was carefully blank.

A group of about twenty men wearing brilliant white kilts and shiny bronze helmets marched by. Their leader glowered at Jennifer and Meryt-Re as he shouted out the rhythm. Some of the men carried short swords and large painted shields; others had bows and quivers full of arrows slung over their shoulders. They passed in a jingle of weapons and the slap of sandals on the stones. Behind them, a man and a woman, their hands tied, stumbled along at the end of a rope. One of the soldiers tugged on it, making the woman cry out in pain as the rope dug into her wrists.

Meryt-Re watched them pass in silence. When they had all gone around the corner, she let out a long breath. “Pharaoh’s soldiers,” she said.

“Who were the people behind them?” asked Jennifer.

Meryt-Re bit her lip and glanced furtively around. She answered in a quiet voice. “Probably more so-called ‘traitors’ to the crown. There have been rather a lot of them lately. I must remember to watch what I say.”

“You mean like about the drought?” asked Jennifer.

“Ssh!” said Meryt-Re. “We will speak no more of it.” She walked away, basket swinging. Jennifer hurried to catch up.

Hatshepsut’s restored temple had been decorated with paintings of trips to foreign lands, rather than battle scenes, like so many of the male Pharaohs had on theirs. Hatshepsut’s reign had been peaceful, more concerned with trading ventures and the creation of beautiful monuments. Nothing indicated that she had needed soldiers to help enforce her reign.

Meryt-Re didn’t talk again all the way back to the house. Jennifer followed her through the front door and blinked in the sudden darkness, a relief after the sunlight outside. The tiles on the floor were deliciously cool against her sore, hot feet as she padded across the room behind Meryt-Re, and into the kitchen.

“Bes protect us,” said Meryt-Re with a weary sigh. She patted the head of a small statue of a chubby dwarf, whose tongue stuck out from between his curly beard and moustache, as she passed by the kitchen shelving. “Let’s hope he will make sure this evening’s dinner impresses our guest, eh, little one?”

Jennifer nodded. Meryt-Re had swung her basket to the floor and was busy emptying it.

“Dje-Nefer, please check the dough. It should have risen by now,” she said.

Jennifer looked under the cloth. The dough was twice the size it had been. “I think so,” she said.

Meryt-Re took the bowl and punched the bread down again with her fists. Then she divided it in half and put both pieces on the floor, covering them again with the cloth.

“All right,” she said. “Now we can pause for a bite to eat. Are you hungry?”

Jennifer’s stomach growled, and they both laughed. It had been a long time since breakfast.

“Did I hear someone mention a mid-day meal?” Ramose appeared around the corner of the kitchen, followed by Mentmose.

“No, you did not,” said Meryt-Re, smiling, “but you shall have one, nonetheless. We can eat some of the cakes that I didn’t take with me this morning and some cheese and dates, but that’s all. The rest I need for this evening.”

“I look forward to that,” said Ramose. “Did you—”

“Yes, Ramose, I bought a duck. Not the best of birds perhaps, but it will serve.”

“In your hands, it will dazzle,” Ramose said.

Meryt-Re rolled out the eating mat, then rapidly laid food out on a plate. She set it in the middle of the mat, along with a clay jug and four mugs. All of them sat cross-legged around it, on the floor.

The liquid that Meryt-Re poured from the jug sparkled golden as it frothed into the mugs. Thirsty, Jennifer grabbed her mug and took a big gulp, then choked and almost spit it out. Too late, she remembered that beer was the common drink of the Egyptian people.

“Has it gone bad?” asked Meryt-Re, sniffing her own. She took a sip. “It seems all right to me.”

Jennifer swallowed, wincing at the taste. “No, it’s fine,” she said, her voice hoarse. “Fine. I just…took too much.”

“Drink up,” said Ramose. “It’s good for you.”

Jennifer eyed him. He seemed perfectly serious. Thick and rich, the beer smelled a lot like the rising bread. All the same, she didn’t think she would have any more. Feeling a little dizzy, she set the mug down.

The others had been busily stuffing themselves with the contents of the platter, especially Mentmose. Jennifer reached for a barley cake and some of the white cheese that Meryt-Re had bought in the market. Her eyebrows rose as she bit into it. It was delicious. She snatched a second piece out from under Mentmose’s hovering fingers.

“Hey!” he said. “You should have better manners, minnow.”

“Speaking of manners,” said Ramose. “I expect you both to be on your best behavior this evening.”

“Of course, Father,” said Mentmose.

“I invited Tetisheri to dine with us, as well,” said Meryt-Re.

Mentmose groaned. “Oh, no. Why? She’ll spoil everything.”

“Mentmose, she is your betrothed. You will marry her in a few years, and you really ought to have a better attitude about it,” said Meryt-Re. “I’m sure you will come to appreciate her.”

Mentmose snorted.

“Your mother and I were betrothed when we were babies,” said Ramose, giving Meryt-Re a fond look. “Neither of us knew what to expect, but our marriage has been good. Wonderful, in fact.” He smiled at Meryt-Re, who smiled back. “Yours will be, too. Even if Tetisheri is a bit of a ninny.”

“Ramose!” said Meryt-Re, as Mentmose choked up, laughing. “You shouldn’t say such things about your future daughter-in-law.”

“Well, he’s right,” said Mentmose.

From what she’d seen of Tetisheri, Jennifer could only agree.

“Nevertheless,” said Meryt-Re. “Treat her politely tonight.”

“All right,” said Mentmose, sighing.

Meryt-Re gathered up the empty plate and the mugs, including Jennifer’s half-full one. “Did you want this?”

Jennifer shook her head. Meryt-Re shrugged, then poured it back in the jug.

“Now we must get to work on this meal,” she said, wiping her hands on a cloth. “I’ll need you to turn the spit for the duck, Mentmose. Mind you remember to turn it at a constant speed. We don’t want burnt meat on one side and raw on the other. Dje-Nefer, you can prepare the vegetables.”

At least that was something she knew how to do. Meryt-Re rummaged on the shelves and handed Jennifer a bronze knife.

The rest of the afternoon went by in a blur. Meryt-Re took the risen dough and threw it into the hot ceramic ovens she had wedged into the fire earlier. The dough began to sizzle even before she slapped lids on the pots. As Jennifer chopped a small mound of onions and white roots, Meryt-Re flitted from one task to another. First she plucked the duck, nearly burying herself in a blizzard of feathers. Then she gutted it neatly. Jennifer was glad she hadn’t been stuck with that messy job. She cleaned the fish as well, which was even worse, in Jennifer’s opinion. The fish guts that she threw into a clay pot stank up the whole kitchen, and Mentmose was sent scurrying upstairs with it. Jennifer spotted him through the hole in the kitchen roof, pouring the slimy mess into a lidded container in the garden.

When he returned, he was set to sliding the duck on a metal pole. He propped it in the middle of the fireplace on two tall tripods.

“Grind this for me,” said Meryt-Re, handing Jennifer some grains. She copied what she had seen Meryt-Re do earlier. Hers wasn’t as fine as Meryt-Re’s had been, but the woman seemed satisfied enough with the result.

As Mentmose turned the spit, grease from the duck spattered on the coals, sending clouds of gray smoke up through the skylight. While Meryt-Re filled the fish with a mixture of green herbs and patted Jennifer’s crumbly flour on the outside, she had Jennifer turn the bread pots in the fire with a wooden paddle. Occasionally, Jennifer took a turn at the spit while Mentmose rested his arms. Meryt-Re threw the chopped onions and a few of the roots into a metal pan, along with a bit of grease from the duck. The mouth-watering scent of frying onions filled the kitchen. Jennifer sniffed appreciatively.

“Smells good, doesn’t it?” said Meryt-Re, smiling at her. “Now take the rest of those roots and add some oil and vinegar.”

It took Jennifer a few moments to find those, but she eventually located them.

“Can I stop now, Mother?” asked Mentmose, rolling his shoulders.

Meryt-Re threw a double handful of almonds into the onion mixture and inspected the duck. Its skin was crispy and flaking.

“Yes, I think it is done,” she said. “And just as well, for it is nearly time for our guests to arrive.”

Jennifer glanced up at the skylight, surprised to see that the sun was lowering. She’d been so busy helping Meryt-Re that she hadn’t noticed the time passing.

Mentmose let go of the spit with a groan and massaged his hands. Meryt-Re took the spit from Mentmose and expertly slid the duck off onto a pretty clay platter that Jennifer had found on the shelves. The fish, covered with the onion sauce, went onto another. Using the wooden paddle, Meryt-Re slid the bread out of the ovens. The crusts were burnt black, but Meryt-Re didn’t seem dismayed by this. She deftly peeled them off with a sharp knife, leaving the inner cores steaming gently on a plate.

The last of the sunlight was just disappearing as they carried the dishes into the larger main room. Ramose was lighting several tiny clay oil lamps with a burning taper. Some he placed on the floor, and the others he hung from the ceiling. He had changed into a cleaner kilt.

“Ra goes to bed and Nut will soon watch over us,” he said.

“May it always be so,” said Meryt-Re. “Go change, Mentmose.”

She turned to Jennifer and gestured that she should turn around. Jennifer did so, brushing at the front of her dress. A few crumbs fell, but she had managed not to spill anything on it. Meryt-Re nodded, satisfied.

“By Bes, that smells wonderful,” said Ramose. “You’ve outdone yourself, my dear.”

“I only hope my humble efforts are enough,” said Meryt-Re, twisting her hands together. “Oh, I’m so nervous, Ramose. What if he doesn’t like it?”

Ramose put his arm around her shoulders. “I’m nervous, too,” he admitted. “But we will show this Ka-Aper that we are capable of entertaining even the greatest of guests. Why, if the Pharaoh herself walked through our door, she would be impressed. Unless she has no taste.”

“Ramose! You should not speak of her so,” said Meryt-Re. “What if someone heard you?”

There was a knock on the door, startling them apart. Ramose opened it. Tetisheri stood in the doorway, bright-eyed and smiling. She wore a long white dress like Jennifer’s, and gold earrings drooped from her ears, matching the necklace she had shown Jennifer in the market.

“Am I late?” she asked. “I wanted to come earlier, but first Father needed my help sorting his correspondence and then Mother wanted me to attend her when she went visiting, and then I had to change, and . . .”

“It’s all right, Teti,” said Meryt-Re. “Our guest will be here shortly. But I should change, too. And get some scent balls for all of us!” She dashed up the stairs before Jennifer could puzzle out this reference, just as Mentmose was descending.

“Hello, Mentmose,” said Tetisheri, her eyes shining.

He grunted in response. At a look from his father, he relented. “Hello, Tetisheri. That’s a pretty outfit.”

Tetisheri seemed to physically swell at this praise. She seized Mentmose in one hand and Jennifer in the other and towed them both into a corner, where she proceeded to tell them every detail of her trip to the market and to her mother’s friend’s house.

Jennifer glanced up at the window in the main room. Outside, the sky was darkening. The murmur of foot traffic seemed to have lessened considerably. She could hear voices, coming closer, although she couldn’t make out what they were saying.

Meryt-Re dashed back down the stairs in a clean, white dress, a small bag swinging from one hand, just in time to hear a knock on their front door. Ramose swung it open and Neferhotep stepped inside, then gestured for his companion to follow. The man ducked under the sill and into the house, his face shadowed.

“Welcome, Ka-Aper, Reverend Sir,” said Ramose, bowing. “We are honored by your presence.”

“It is I who am honored,” Ka-Aper said in a deep voice. He stepped into the light cast by the overhead oil lamps.

Jennifer took a step backwards. It was the man she had seen in the street, walking under the striped canopy.