nods at the Quiet Gentleman and continues. ‘Hannu and I are going on a trip and we’re going to take the girl as hostage. The boy comes too because he’s old enough to understand the situation and, according to Hannu, he’s good at looking after his sister and we might be busy.’
My mother screams. My father says: ‘Hush, hush. It’ll be all right. They won’t be going far. Tomorrow everything will be back to normal.’ He appeals to the Quiet Gentleman. ‘You’re not going far, are you, sir?’
‘We’re going upriver,’ Jatty says. ‘We’ll be away for as long as we need to be. It may be a month. It may be a year. But if word reaches us that you’ve talked, we’re going to take this little girl to the Great River and throw her to the crocodiles. Are you clear about that?’
My father’s skin is suddenly ashen. ‘A month? A year?’ is all he says.
‘As long as it takes,’ insists Jatty. ‘You behave, nothing will happen. Talk and she dies.’
My father opens his mouth then closes it. He looks like a fish gulping for air.
‘But why?’ I say. ‘You’ve got what you came for.’
Nebet glares at me. ‘Which is what?’
‘The statue.’
‘Oh, that,’ Jatty says. ‘You think that’s all we’re after? No, that’s more of a . . .’
‘Enough!’ the Quiet Gentleman snaps. ‘The less everyone knows, the better.’
‘Indeed,’ Nebet says. ‘And let no one forget it.’
And that’s that. My mother is crying and clasping Imi, who looks really scared. My father takes me to one side and says: ‘Look after her, boy, or I’ll follow you through the Two Kingdoms and into hell.’
For the first time in his life, he looks like he means it.
And I have no idea where we’re going. All I know is that it’s got something to do with the horizon, a workshop and a man called Thutmose.
We’re travelling up the Great River on a cargo boat.
The river is milky smooth and earthy brown. There are fields on either side and dusty date palms droop in the heat. The boat is long and wide, low in the water, weighed down with cargo. Small fishing boats hug the banks. I see a horse running across a field of grass so green it makes me want to laugh with joy because the horse is beautiful and the rider looks so free.
I’m standing right at the back of the boat, where the giant helmsman nestles the steering oar under one massive arm. I stand next to him, my own arm wrapped round the sternpost. When the helmsman moves the rudder, eddies bloom and the water chuckles. I feel happy.
If I walk from one end of the boat to the other, climbing over the bales of hay, sacks of grain, jars of oil and wine, stacks of wood, rolls of linen, that’s thirty big paces. If I walk from side to side, right in the middle where the mast is, that’s ten big paces. The sailors look at me, call me mad monkey and laugh, but not unkindly. Even though my world is ten paces wide and thirty paces long, I feel free.
Then Imi joins me. Her skin is dull as if the sun has dried it. My happiness turns to dust and falls away. She needs looking after and that’s my job, but I don’t know what to do. The helmsman glances down at her.
‘Water,’ he says in a deep voice. ‘The little girl needs a drink.’
I dip a ladle in the pitcher of water he keeps by him and hold it to Imi’s lips. At first she presses her lips together, but I remember how she used to do that when she was a baby. Always started off by saying no. I persist. She takes a sip, then another, then takes the ladle and tips it into her mouth and drinks deeply and the relief I feel is like a drink of cool water.
‘Where are we?’ she says.
‘On the river. The Great River.’
‘Where are we going?’
I look up at the helmsman, who pulls the corners of his mouth down and shrugs. ‘People it call it the Horizon, little girl, but if you want to call it by its full name, you can try the City of the Sun’s Horizon, Home of the Only Living God on Earth, Akenaten, Champion of the Sun Itself and his Wife, Nefertiti, the Beautiful One is Approaching. It is the new capital of the Land of the Two Kingdoms.’ He points to the river ahead of us. ‘See that boat? See how high she rides? She’s delivered her cargo and now she’s heading back downriver to pick up more.’
‘Is the boat a lady?’ Imi asks.
‘If you treat her right. If you don’t then she turns into a –’
‘Boy!’
The Quiet Gentleman’s picking his way down the boat towards us. He beckons to me.
‘Careful,’ he says, when we’re out of earshot. ‘You’ll have to keep her from talking and remember the story. I’m your uncle. We’re going to find work in Horizon City. The king has spies everywhere on the river, don’t forget.’
‘But Jatty’s talking to everyone,’ I protest. It’s true, though no one really wants to talk to him.
‘Jatty’s a fool and may have to be dealt with. Now, get your sister something to eat.’
‘But suppose she asks me when we’re going home? What do I say?’
‘The better she behaves, the sooner she’ll be going home. Tell her that.’
But it’s hard to keep an eye on Imi all the time. Every evening, when we drop anchor, the sailors gather round a small brazier and cook the fish they’ve caught. They save Imi the best bits, sing her songs and tie knots for her and, while I know I should keep her away in case she talks about the fight at the inn, I can’t when she seems to be happy with them.
Once I saw her ask the captain, who sits on a sort of throne just behind the mast, when she was going home. He looked embarrassed and shot a glance at the Quiet Gentleman. It took a while for me to work out that he was frightened and didn’t know what to say. It was then, I think, that I understood the Quiet Gentleman’s power, his ability to scare, applied to everyone and not just me. I found the thought strangely comforting.
It’s getting towards the evening of the second day and we’ve dropped anchor. Towns, villages and even fields have slid away behind us, though the land on either side is lush with reeds and grass. There’s a gentle bend in the river so we can’t see the boats behind us or ahead.
Imi’s asleep. I’m looking up at the stars in the clearest sky I have ever seen and wondering how the frogs can make quite so much noise when the Quiet Gentleman comes and sits beside me.
‘We’ve got a problem,’ is all he says.
‘Not of my making,’ I answer.
‘Not directly maybe,’ he says. ‘Jatty’s made a friend at last.’
I did notice that Jatty was hanging out with one particular sailor. ‘That skinny one with the face like a dog?’ I ask.
‘That’s the one. Notice anything odd about him?’
‘He wags his tail if you chuck him a bone?’
The Quiet Gentleman ignores my quite good joke. ‘He works less than the others, but the captain never shouts at him.’
‘So what?’
‘He’s a spy. Everything passes up and down the river: ships, goods, people, news. If the king wants to find out what’s going on in his kingdom, he just has to plant snitches on boats and in harbours.’
‘You think Jatty . . .’