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Hopi.’
    ‘I’ve heard your name spoken already,’ said the peasant. ‘What I mean is this: who are you? What are you doing in this house?’
    Hopi stared at him for a moment. This wasn’t what he’d been expecting. ‘I’m the brother of Isis,’ he said eventually. ‘Isis is a dancer. She works with the troupe alongside Paneb’s daughter Mut.’
    Sinuhe ignored this information. ‘I see how you steal from my cousin.’
    Hopi’s mouth dropped open. ‘ Steal? ’ he echoed. ‘What are you talking about?’
    ‘I see how you help yourself to food.’ The peasant’s eyes were flashing; he seemed genuinely angry. Hopi wasn’t sure how to react.
    ‘I live here,’ he said. ‘I’m allowed to help myself to food. If you think I make no contribution –’
    ‘I think you’re a lazy good-for-nothing. I see how you come and go as you please. I see how you spend your days in idleness. I see what you are.’ Sinuhe’s lips became flecked with foam as he spat his words out at Hopi.
    Hopi sat very still. The peasant was clearly raving, but his words were frightening, too.
    Stay calm , he told himself. He’s just a poor peasant.
    ‘I . . . I bring . . .’ The words came out weak and quavery, and he had to clear his throat. ‘I bring an income to this house, sir,’ he carried on. Saying it out loud made him braver. ‘It’s not very much yet, but it will be more when I’ve finished my apprenticeship. I’m a trainee priest of Serqet and the people of Waset reward me for what I do.’
    But Sinuhe wasn’t listening. ‘He never understood hardship,’ he mumbled. He folded his gnarled hands together. ‘I knew this was what I would find. Waste and idleness. Decadence and ruin . . .’
    Hopi decided he’d had enough. He had wanted to help this man, and instead he was listening to insults. He got up and left the room, leaving the oil lamp to Sinuhe.
    .
    Isis woke to the sound of voices. Nefert . . . Paneb . . . Sheri, perhaps . . . the voices rose and fell. Then they grew louder, and she opened her eyes. Morning light was filtering into the room.
    ‘I don’t think it’s fair on her.’ That was Sheri.
    ‘She managed perfectly well last night,’ responded Paneb. ‘We wouldn’t ask her to do it otherwise. I don’t like to make her work against her will, but this problem lies heavily upon me, Sheri. It will do her no harm.’
    With a start, Isis realised that the adults were talking about her . She lay stiffly under her linen cover, listening.
    ‘But there are other ways,’ insisted Sheri. ‘This problem is between you and your cousin. It has nothing to do with Isis. It isn’t right to make use of her like this.’
    ‘Sister, you don’t understand –’
    ‘If I was your sister, I might,’ Sheri snapped back. ‘But as your sister-in-law, I can’t even be sure he is kin.’
    Paneb fell silent. Isis rolled on her side and peeped out from under her sheet. The three adults were at the top of the steps on the roof, their voices drifting down to where she lay. She threw back the cover and sat up. Mut and the boys were nowhere to be seen; they must be down in the courtyard already. Isis crept closer to the steps.
    ‘I wish I could explain,’ said Paneb. ‘But all I can say is that there’s no doubt. He is my cousin, and I am obliged to help him.’
    ‘Very well,’ said Sheri. ‘We can give him some grain. But what more can he possibly expect after all these years?’
    Paneb gave a heavy sigh. ‘I’m afraid it’s not quite so simple,’ he said. ‘A gift of grain will not be enough to satisfy him. He has vowed to remain here until I fulfil my responsibilities.’
    ‘ Fulfil your responsibilities? ’ Now it was Nefert’s turn to sound incredulous. ‘Whatever is that supposed to mean? You haven’t told me this, Paneb.’
    ‘Sinuhe spoke to me this morning,’ said Paneb.
    Isis tiptoed a little further up the steps. Now she could just see the three adults sitting cross-legged on the