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faces of the men. None of them seemed to know what to do. Even their leader, Kerem, looked confused.
    ‘This is the meaning of power,’ Tutmose told Hopi. ‘It is knowing that others fear you. As a priest, this is a lesson you must learn. Let us keep the snake with us. We may yet need it again.’
    His words puzzled Hopi. What did he mean, need it again ? He didn’t want power over the men. Nevertheless, the snake may have saved several lives. The thought gave him a strange sense of pride. Slowly, he walked back to the place where he had dropped his bag, and lowered the snake into his papyrus basket.
    Tutmose turned to Kerem. ‘You must return to the boat,’ he told him. ‘The gods of Egypt rose up to protect you. Make sure your men understand this. And let them know that we have a great and powerful priest on board.’ He paused. ‘But say nothing of the snake to Hat-Neb and Nebo. Let them think that you fought for them bravely. I am sure you understand why.’
    ‘I understand,’ said Kerem. ‘I will tell the men.’
    Then Tutmose turned to Hopi. ‘There, young priest,’ he said. ‘The crew will say nothing, and it would be best for everyone if we do the same, don’t you think?’
    .
    All was quiet back on the shore. The camp had been packed away. Isis looked up at the boat deck and saw that the crew were already on board. She felt a sudden stab of panic about Hopi. What if he hadn’t come back?
    Painfully, gasping with every step, Hat-Neb climbed up the boat ladder. Isis followed just behind him, anxious to see if her brother was on board. But the first thing she saw was blood. Blood on men’s arms and faces. Drips of blood across the deck of the boat. Blood on the tip of a dagger that a man still held in his hand. She went cold.
    No one spoke as Hat-Neb staggered across the deck, his eyes glazed. He barely seemed to notice the crew or their injuries. He made straight for the cool shade of the cabin without a backward glance. Isis looked around, horrified. Tutmose was working hard, bandaging wounds with swathes of linen. And then she saw Hopi, carrying some fresh bandages from the cabin.
    ‘You’re safe!’ she exclaimed, rushing across the deck to greet him.
    ‘Yes, I’m fine.’ Hopi bent down to give Tutmose the bandages.
    As he straightened up again, Isis pulled him to one side. ‘So what happened?’ she whispered.
    ‘The boat was attacked,’ said Hopi. ‘But it’s all over now.’
    ‘But who were they? Did you see what happened?’ insisted Isis.
    Her brother wouldn’t give her an answer. ‘Keep your voice down, Isis,’ he muttered, glancing around the deck.
    Isis felt hurt. She was usually the first person that Hopi would talk to. She pursed her lips. ‘Hat-Neb was very sick in the desert,’ she announced in a loud voice. ‘Tutmose should go and see to him at once.’
    Tutmose turned around from bandaging a man’s arm, piercing Isis with his dark, beady eyes. ‘And who are you to say what I should or should not do?’
    ‘These men are not as important as Hat-Neb,’ retorted Isis.
    ‘That’s hardly for you to say,’ snapped Tutmose.
    The man gave a yelp of pain as the bandage shifted, and Tutmose turned back to his patient. Isis looked at Hopi, and saw that she had made him angry again.
    Oh no , she thought. And all because of that sneaky, horrible doctor!
    It was unbearable. She spun on her heel and ran into the cabin.
    Inside, Hat-Neb was spreadeagled on his cushions. Sheri and Kia were wiping his forehead while Mut hovered, looking helpless.
    ‘Food,’ he gasped. ‘I need food.’ He gestured towards one of the cabin caskets. ‘Honey pastries. Dates. Dried figs. Something sweet.’
    Kia opened the casket. Isis and Mut peered inside. It was stuffed with the finest dried fruits and delicacies. Kia lifted out a honey-coated pastry and placed it in a bowl with a handful of fat, golden dates. Hat-Neb reached for them in relief and ate hungrily, closing his eyes with