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Authors: Terry Deary
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phantom came back? he says. Came back? He came back twice as large, twice as ugly and twice as evil. He says that if I’m still here when he comes back tonight he’ll crush me like a scarab beetle. And he could too. He’s big enough to crush a crocodile.”
The old woman spread her arms wide to show how big the phantom was. Suddenly she swept her arms forward and pointed at Menes. “So you needn’t think I am paying you anything, young scribe. You’re hopeless, useless, worthless.”
Chapter 3
The Greedy Ghost
Menes sniffed away a tear. “I’ll try again,” he offered.
“He’ll try again!” Maiarch cackled. “Well you won’t try your silly prayers. They’re hopeless, useless, worthless.”
“Maybe we could try something else,” Ahmose put in.
“Someone will have to do something,” the old woman moaned. “The gods will be very angry.”
“Uh? Why?” Ahmose asked.
“Why? he says. Why? Because the phantom didn’t just disturb my sleep and threaten me. He walked up to my altar … see it there?”
The boys looked at the wall behind them. A lamp lit the stone statue of the god Bes – an ugly dwarf.
“Bes looks after women and children,” Menes said.
“He’s supposed to – my old legs won’t get me to the temple, so I have my own altar in the house. Every day I put fish, bread and beer on the altar for Bes.”
“Does he eat it?” Menes asked. He’d always wanted to know what happened to the food offered to the gods in the temple. They seemed to eat a lot.
“He doesn’t usually eat it,” Maiarch said. “But last night he didn’t even have the chance. When the phantom had finished frightening me he walked up to the altar and pinched all the fish and bread and beer. The cheek of it. He packed it in his mouth and said he’d be back tonight.”
“That’s no phantom,” Ahmose said. “Phantoms don’t eat fish. They eat human spirits. I don’t think you have a ghost, old lady.”
“Here! Here! Here! Watch who you’re calling old,” Maiarch squawked. “I’m only sixty summers old – King Pepi lived to a hundred or more.”
Ahmose sighed. “What I’m saying is you have a common thief. He’s just trying to scare you so he can rob you.”
Menes shook his head. “But why doesn’t he just take what he wants. Old Maiarch can’t stop him.”
“Now you’re calling me “old”, you young monkey,” Maiarch moaned.
Ahmose nodded slowly. “So, what does he want?”
“The best way to find out is to ask him,” Menes said.
Ahmose’s mouth fell open. “You think a thief will stop and chat?”
“He will if we’ve captured him. If we make him talk,” Menes said. “We’ll be here tonight. We’ll grab him and force him to talk.”
“He’s stronger than an ox,” Ahmose reminded him.
“Big enough to crush a crocodile,” Maiarch added.
“Don’t worry,” Menes told them. “I have a fool-proof plan.”
“Better than your hopeless, useless, worthless scrap of parchment?” the old woman asked.
“Much better.”
“What’s the plan?” Ahmose asked.
“I’ll tell you after school,” Menes promised.
Chapter 4
Opet and Beer
At the end of the afternoon Menes raced through the city, over the fields and down to the small house of baked mud at the edge of the Nile.
His father was trying to patch his old boat with reeds while his younger sisters worked on mending the nets.
His mother was pouring beer from a large stone jar – straining it through a linen cloth into a bowl. “What’s wrong with your back?” she asked when she saw her son’s red and purple marks.
He shrugged, “Master Meshwesh beat me for talking.”
“I know teachers are told to beat bad boys,” she sighed, “but Meshwesh seems to enjoy it. Let me get you some beer and bread for dinner.”
“I’ll have this,” Menes said, reaching for the bowl.
“No you won’t!” his father cried. “That is extra strong beer. It’s for the Festival of Opet tonight. I’ve
The old woman spread her arms wide to show how big the phantom was. Suddenly she swept her arms forward and pointed at Menes. “So you needn’t think I am paying you anything, young scribe. You’re hopeless, useless, worthless.”
Chapter 3
The Greedy Ghost
Menes sniffed away a tear. “I’ll try again,” he offered.
“He’ll try again!” Maiarch cackled. “Well you won’t try your silly prayers. They’re hopeless, useless, worthless.”
“Maybe we could try something else,” Ahmose put in.
“Someone will have to do something,” the old woman moaned. “The gods will be very angry.”
“Uh? Why?” Ahmose asked.
“Why? he says. Why? Because the phantom didn’t just disturb my sleep and threaten me. He walked up to my altar … see it there?”
The boys looked at the wall behind them. A lamp lit the stone statue of the god Bes – an ugly dwarf.
“Bes looks after women and children,” Menes said.
“He’s supposed to – my old legs won’t get me to the temple, so I have my own altar in the house. Every day I put fish, bread and beer on the altar for Bes.”
“Does he eat it?” Menes asked. He’d always wanted to know what happened to the food offered to the gods in the temple. They seemed to eat a lot.
“He doesn’t usually eat it,” Maiarch said. “But last night he didn’t even have the chance. When the phantom had finished frightening me he walked up to the altar and pinched all the fish and bread and beer. The cheek of it. He packed it in his mouth and said he’d be back tonight.”
“That’s no phantom,” Ahmose said. “Phantoms don’t eat fish. They eat human spirits. I don’t think you have a ghost, old lady.”
“Here! Here! Here! Watch who you’re calling old,” Maiarch squawked. “I’m only sixty summers old – King Pepi lived to a hundred or more.”
Ahmose sighed. “What I’m saying is you have a common thief. He’s just trying to scare you so he can rob you.”
Menes shook his head. “But why doesn’t he just take what he wants. Old Maiarch can’t stop him.”
“Now you’re calling me “old”, you young monkey,” Maiarch moaned.
Ahmose nodded slowly. “So, what does he want?”
“The best way to find out is to ask him,” Menes said.
Ahmose’s mouth fell open. “You think a thief will stop and chat?”
“He will if we’ve captured him. If we make him talk,” Menes said. “We’ll be here tonight. We’ll grab him and force him to talk.”
“He’s stronger than an ox,” Ahmose reminded him.
“Big enough to crush a crocodile,” Maiarch added.
“Don’t worry,” Menes told them. “I have a fool-proof plan.”
“Better than your hopeless, useless, worthless scrap of parchment?” the old woman asked.
“Much better.”
“What’s the plan?” Ahmose asked.
“I’ll tell you after school,” Menes promised.
Chapter 4
Opet and Beer
At the end of the afternoon Menes raced through the city, over the fields and down to the small house of baked mud at the edge of the Nile.
His father was trying to patch his old boat with reeds while his younger sisters worked on mending the nets.
His mother was pouring beer from a large stone jar – straining it through a linen cloth into a bowl. “What’s wrong with your back?” she asked when she saw her son’s red and purple marks.
He shrugged, “Master Meshwesh beat me for talking.”
“I know teachers are told to beat bad boys,” she sighed, “but Meshwesh seems to enjoy it. Let me get you some beer and bread for dinner.”
“I’ll have this,” Menes said, reaching for the bowl.
“No you won’t!” his father cried. “That is extra strong beer. It’s for the Festival of Opet tonight. I’ve
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