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and Meryt realised she did not know her aunt’s view on the matter; so her next words came as a surprise. ‘Whatever happens, you will always have a place here – if I can help it,’ said Tia quietly.
    Meryt was astonished, and touched. She smiled at her aunt. ‘Thank you, Tia,’ she murmured. ‘But I know such a thing is out of your hands.’
    â€˜Perhaps not so much as you might think,’ said Tia, with a little jut of her jaw. ‘But we shall see.’
    They lay down, and Meryt stroked the ostracon gently before dozing off.
Send me a message, my goddess
, she thought, as sleep overcame her.
    This time she dreamt. She was looking out through a window to the rocky hillside above the village – the Peak of the West, home of the snake goddess Meretseger. There was a figure standing there, his kilt billowed by a strong, hot wind blowing in from the desert. He turned and toiled up the narrow path that led over the cliffs to the Great Place, his lean body curled against the sand-filled blasts. In her dream Meryt left the window and struggled after him, calling, but the wind whipped away her words and the figure battled on ahead of her. She knew it was her father, Peshedu, but he seemed forever beyond her reach.
    She paused to gasp for breath. Then, as she looked up to see how far he had progressed, she saw another figure descending the path in the opposite direction. He was wrapped in a linen shawl to protect him from the wind and sand, but Meryt recognised him nonetheless. It was Ramose.
    Her father stopped. The men greeted each other, and they embraced. Then, as Meryt began her pursuit once more, Ramose turned in his tracks and accompanied her father, using his linen shawl to wrap around them both as they hurried on, back to the Great Place …
    Meryt woke, her heart pounding. She sat upright and stared at the ostracon. It lay there innocently, giving nothing away. She looked around the room, which was quiet but for Tia’s gentle breathing. Her mouth dry, she rose and went out to the courtyard for a drink of water. As she lifted the cup to her lips, she realised that her hand was trembling.
    Was this a message? She had no way of knowing, but the dream had been so vivid, unlike the usual jumble of images. If it was, what was Peshedu doing with Ramose? Was her father answering her prayer on behalf of the goddess? Was he trying to say that he approved their marriage? Meryt felt cold and desolate. What other meaning could the dream suggest? Could she really trust the appearance of Peshedu, when Tia was so sure that he was the troublemaker in their household …? Meryt did not wish to believe such a thing of her own father, but now she foundherself hoping it was true.
    She decided to head to her favourite spot, up on the limestone hill that overlooked the Nile. She hurried through the village, her head bowed, and didn’t see a figure approaching in the opposite direction. She cannoned into him.
    â€˜Meryt-Re!’ he exclaimed.
    Meryt looked up. ‘Ramose,’ she managed to say.
    For an instant, their eyes locked and they gazed at each other. Meryt took in his plump, solid frame, his heavy jowls that were furred with two days’ stubble, and his dull, doe-like eyes. It was too much. Instinctively, she took flight and ran.
    â€˜Meryt!’ Ramose called after her. ‘Wait! I would like to talk to you …’
    But Meryt didn’t stop. Gasping for breath, she ran until she reached the edge of the village, only slowing to pick her way between the yellow-white boulders of the hillside. She reached the top and flopped down on to a boulder, almost crying with exertion and distress. She buried her head in her lap.
    Slowly, she grew calmer. Her fate was not yet sealed. The goddess seemed to have sent her a dream, but its meaning was by no means clear. Her heart lightened as another interpretation occurred to her – that her father had turned Ramose in his