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nothing about them. Payneshi banished Meshwesh from the city of Karnak for five years. Now he’s back to torment us. No one trusts him – no one will give him a scribe job – so he has to be a teacher,” Ahmose said. “See?”
    Menes shook his head. “No.”
    “No?”
    “If he really did hide the treasure then he’d just go and find it.”
    “Maybe he forgot where it was,” Ahmose said.

    “Would you forget where you’d hidden a fortune?” Menes asked.
    Ahmose shook his head. “It’s a mystery … and talking about mysteries why did you ask if I believed in ghosts?”
    “Because there’s a foul phantom in the new house at the temple gate,” Menes said. “Old Maiarch is being driven from her home. I have to use my scribe skills. And I have to kill it!”

Chapter 2

The Fearful Phantom
    Ahmose shuddered even though the noon-day sun was scorching the street. “How do you know the phantom won’t kill you ?” he asked.

    Menes shrugged. “It’s a chance I have to take.” He peered round the corner of the wall. Master Meshwesh was dozing in the shade. “Come with me.”
    “Are we going to see the ghost?”
    “We are going to see old Maiarch,” Menes said as he led the way down the cool alleys that led to the Temple of Horus.

    “Is she dead?”
    “No, but she nearly died of fright when she saw the phantom,” Menes said. “She woke up in the middle of a moonless night and saw him. Just a shape in the starlight. He was big as an ox. He roared like a hippo when she woke up.”

    “You can’t kill a phantom – not a monster like that,” Ahmose said. “You’re a scribe, not a soldier.”
    Menes laughed. “And it’s my reed pen I’m going to use to kill him,” he said.
    “You can’t stab a phantom with a reed pen,” Ahmose argued.
    Menes hurried on. “When the king dies they wrap him as a mummy. And inside the wrapping they put the Book of the Dead.”

    “The book is full of prayers that will help the spirit in the afterlife. Protect it from the monsters that are waiting there to attack it. We all need a Book of the dead – even if we aren’t rich enough to be made into mummies.”
    Ahmose nodded. “I’ve heard about the monsters. There’s a snake that spits poison at you.”

    “And boiling hot lakes,” Menes reminded him.
    “Rivers of fire.”

    “And at the end of it all there’s the Devourer waiting for you. Part crocodile, part hippo and part lion. If you’ve been evil he rips out your heart and eats it!” Menes cried.

    “That’s why people need us so much. We can write the prayers that will help them.”
    Ahmose smiled. “I see. You have written prayers for Maiarch to drive away the phantom.”
    “I have,” Menes said. “She promised to pay me well. Maybe enough to buy my dad a new boat. Without a boat he can’t fish. Without fish to sell my family will starve.”
    “I could lend you money,” Ahmose said.
    Menes gripped his arm. “Thanks, friend. But it would be better if I could earn it myself. Maybe she’ll pay me today.”

    They turned a corner into the great paved square in front of the temple.
    “This is Maiarch’s house,” Menes said, leading the way through an arch into a fine garden. There was a large pond with golden fish swimming in sparkling water. Trees gave shade and flowers covered the grass. “Maiarch is very rich,” Menes explained. “She had this new house built just for herself.”

    “It’s even bigger than our house,” Ahmose said.
    The boys walked into the shadowy darkness of the house. An ancient woman lay on a low couch. Her skin was wrinkled and pale as old parchment. Her eyes were bright as a bird’s.
    “Good day, Maiarch,” Menes said. “This is my friend Ahmose.”

    “Sit down, sit down,” the old woman croaked. The boys sat on the floor.
    “Did it work?” Menes asked.
    “Did it work? he says. Did it work? It did not. Hopeless. Useless. Worthless scrap of parchment.”
    “The phantom came back?”
    “The