Free The Spitting Cobra by Gill Harvey Page A

But he had only just heard of her. ‘How . . . what . . .’ he stuttered.
    But now Rahotep raised a hand to silence him. He was listening – listening to a commotion that was growing outside. Hopi heard it, too: footsteps and the babble of many voices. They drew closer, closer . . . then came a hammering on the front door.
    The servant reappeared. ‘Shall I open it, sir?’ he asked Rahotep.
    ‘Of course, of course.’
    Rahotep moved to where he could see the door. Curious, Hopi stood behind him. When it opened, his eyes widened: this was a serious visit indeed. Outside on the street stood Nakht, Baki and Khonsu, surrounded by a retinue of guards.

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    CHAPTER SEVEN
    Isis was still reeling from the news. Seti and Tiya . . . brother and sister. Tiya’s broken arm . . . the cobra’s attack on Seti . . . and the golden bracelet that must have come from somewhere . Surely they had to be guilty? But Heria seemed so upset at the thought of it that Isis could find nothing to say.
    ‘Isis, we have to go.’ It was Mut, standing in the doorway. ‘Everyone is ready. Where’s Hopi?’
    Isis stood up reluctantly. ‘He’s at the house of Rahotep,’ she said.
    ‘You mean the snake man?’ Mut frowned. ‘What’s he doing there?’
    ‘He went to see Seti.’
    Mut’s face darkened. ‘Why would he want to see a man who’s been punished by the gods? Why can’t he just leave it all alone?’
    It was too much for Isis. ‘Why can’t you try to understand him for once?’
    Mut stalked into the room and snatched up her few belongings. ‘I don’t want to understand him. I hate snakes and I hate scorpions. So does Mother. You heard what she said.’
    Isis felt as though Mut had hit her, hard, in the middle of her stomach.
    ‘We’re going,’ Mut carried on. ‘Mother and Father are waiting for us. They want to leave now . If you don’t come and meet us quickly we’ll just leave you here.’
    Isis felt fury flare up. ‘And that’s exactly what you want, isn’t it?’ she cried. ‘You want to get rid of us. You’ve wanted it right from the start! You hate Hopi and you hate me, too! Go on, then! Go! Leave us here!’ She grabbed her linen bag. ‘Hopi and I have looked after ourselves before. We’ll do it again, if we have to!’ And she ran out into the street with sobs rising in her throat.
    She ran towards the main gate along the busy street where villagers stood outside their houses, sweeping their doorways and gossiping.
    ‘Please,’ asked Isis, stopping briefly to address an elderly woman, ‘where is the house of Rahotep?’
    ‘At the end, dear,’ replied the woman, pointing. ‘Last house before the gate.’
    ‘Thank you,’ Isis gulped, and set off again, dodging people as she ran. For some reason, a crowd had gathered outside the house of Rahotep. Breathless, she began to wriggle her way through until she could see the door. But then she stopped. The door was firmly shut, and two stern guards stood on either side of it.
    .
    The three village elders gathered around the priest of Serqet.
    ‘We have come to see the painter Seti,’ said Khonsu.
    ‘I know,’ replied Rahotep. ‘But you are too early. He needs to rest.’
    ‘We’ll see him anyway.’ Baki jerked his head towards Hopi. ‘And get rid of this boy.’
    Rahotep regarded him calmly. ‘I cannot do that,’ he said. ‘That boy’s destiny is intertwined with that of Seti. He must stay.’
    The three men looked at each other. ‘He can’t do any harm,’ said Nakht.
    Baki shrugged. ‘I suppose not.’
    ‘Take us to Seti,’ ordered Khonsu, turning back to the priest.
    Rahotep had no choice. He led the way into the back room where Seti lay still in the cool, dim light. He seemed to be asleep, but as the men gathered around him, he spoke.
    ‘Who’s there?’ the painter asked in a hoarse voice.
    ‘Can you hear me clearly?’ asked Rahotep.
    Seti licked his lips. ‘Yes. But I am thirsty.’ With a struggle, he sat up.
    Rahotep fetched a