not every trace of the old religions are gone. I mention this as I can see you are a man of the world, and can draw your own conclusions.”
Pedibastet looked around again. “I would not tell this to anyone,” he continued, “but your face is that of a man who can be trusted. I have a few temple cats living with me, so devoted am I to their welfare. Would you care to see them?”
Intrigued, Peter indicated he would.
Pedibastet gestured him inside his cavern-like shop. It was odd, Peter thought as he entered, that the man would leave his priceless stock outside unguarded for anyone to steal.
Perhaps the local populace was not interested in such antiquities.
The interior was eye-wateringly pungent and, once his eyesight had adjusted to the gloom, Peter saw it was sparsely stocked. One or two boxes turned upside down displayed small wooden statues, roughly carved and painted, and a few pottery pieces. Every item offered for sale depicted cats.
One or two live specimens were also in evidence, washing their faces. A small brown cat watched from a corner, while a portly black feline sitting by the half-open back door observed the men with disdainful eyes as they passed by on their way to the garden behind the shop. The green and shady place Peter had expected to see turned out to be little more than a walled expanse of dirt where more cats slept or sunned themselves.
Within a few steps, Peter discovered that while a garden of plain dirt was not aesthetically pleasing it was, however, very convenient for the relief of cats.
“I thank you for your hospitality,” Peter said after glancing around. “However, I have something I would like to sell you. The merchant down the street seemed to think you might be interested.”
Pedibastet’s mask of affability dropped as swiftly as a eagle plummeting down on its prey. “You are not here to buy one of my wonderful mummies?”
Peter apologized. “I regret I seem to have misled you.”
Pedibastet gazed thoughtfully at Peter’s satchel. “But your master is rich?”
“He is, sir.”
“Then why would he want to sell me anything?”
“He doesn’t know. If he did, he would be displeased.”
Pedibastet did not seem deterred by the admission. “Do you think he might be interested in my humble offerings?”
“My master is interested in many strange matters.”
Pedibastet pondered briefly and then smiled. “I’m a little short of funds today. People speak ill of Egyptian bankers, and…well, I’m certain you don’t want the details. Suffice it to say, doing business in Alexandria is different than doing it in other great cities. As a gesture of good will, however, which you can repay by bringing your master to my shop tomorrow, I will purchase your wares for a small sum, provided you add a service to them.”
“A service?”
“You will need to be nimble. Can you run very fast? But no…” Pedibastet paused for a heartbeat. “At least you could try. My assistant broke his leg and the boy Rameses is busy wrapping one or two new arrivals more securely.”
“How do you expect me to obtain more silks? And what does being nimble have to do with it?”
“Silks?” Pedibastet’s long face dropped.
Peter opened his satchel to reveal its contents.
“Not a cat?”
Peter looked at the seller of cat mummies in horror. “You thought I was trying to sell you the master’s cat? That’s what you expected me to catch? Cats? But why? You have so many already. Surely you don’t mean—”
“I breed cats.” Pedibastet’s tone was soothing. “What did you think? There are many cat lovers in Egypt. Now, as to your master’s visit—”
“Are you certain your real business is not ransoming cats?”
Pedibastet looked dumbfounded. The idea had never occurred to him although, he admitted to himself, it was definitely one to be pursued as soon as possible.
“There must be no one but fools left in Constantinople for anyone to have hired you as a servant!” he
Pedibastet looked around again. “I would not tell this to anyone,” he continued, “but your face is that of a man who can be trusted. I have a few temple cats living with me, so devoted am I to their welfare. Would you care to see them?”
Intrigued, Peter indicated he would.
Pedibastet gestured him inside his cavern-like shop. It was odd, Peter thought as he entered, that the man would leave his priceless stock outside unguarded for anyone to steal.
Perhaps the local populace was not interested in such antiquities.
The interior was eye-wateringly pungent and, once his eyesight had adjusted to the gloom, Peter saw it was sparsely stocked. One or two boxes turned upside down displayed small wooden statues, roughly carved and painted, and a few pottery pieces. Every item offered for sale depicted cats.
One or two live specimens were also in evidence, washing their faces. A small brown cat watched from a corner, while a portly black feline sitting by the half-open back door observed the men with disdainful eyes as they passed by on their way to the garden behind the shop. The green and shady place Peter had expected to see turned out to be little more than a walled expanse of dirt where more cats slept or sunned themselves.
Within a few steps, Peter discovered that while a garden of plain dirt was not aesthetically pleasing it was, however, very convenient for the relief of cats.
“I thank you for your hospitality,” Peter said after glancing around. “However, I have something I would like to sell you. The merchant down the street seemed to think you might be interested.”
Pedibastet’s mask of affability dropped as swiftly as a eagle plummeting down on its prey. “You are not here to buy one of my wonderful mummies?”
Peter apologized. “I regret I seem to have misled you.”
Pedibastet gazed thoughtfully at Peter’s satchel. “But your master is rich?”
“He is, sir.”
“Then why would he want to sell me anything?”
“He doesn’t know. If he did, he would be displeased.”
Pedibastet did not seem deterred by the admission. “Do you think he might be interested in my humble offerings?”
“My master is interested in many strange matters.”
Pedibastet pondered briefly and then smiled. “I’m a little short of funds today. People speak ill of Egyptian bankers, and…well, I’m certain you don’t want the details. Suffice it to say, doing business in Alexandria is different than doing it in other great cities. As a gesture of good will, however, which you can repay by bringing your master to my shop tomorrow, I will purchase your wares for a small sum, provided you add a service to them.”
“A service?”
“You will need to be nimble. Can you run very fast? But no…” Pedibastet paused for a heartbeat. “At least you could try. My assistant broke his leg and the boy Rameses is busy wrapping one or two new arrivals more securely.”
“How do you expect me to obtain more silks? And what does being nimble have to do with it?”
“Silks?” Pedibastet’s long face dropped.
Peter opened his satchel to reveal its contents.
“Not a cat?”
Peter looked at the seller of cat mummies in horror. “You thought I was trying to sell you the master’s cat? That’s what you expected me to catch? Cats? But why? You have so many already. Surely you don’t mean—”
“I breed cats.” Pedibastet’s tone was soothing. “What did you think? There are many cat lovers in Egypt. Now, as to your master’s visit—”
“Are you certain your real business is not ransoming cats?”
Pedibastet looked dumbfounded. The idea had never occurred to him although, he admitted to himself, it was definitely one to be pursued as soon as possible.
“There must be no one but fools left in Constantinople for anyone to have hired you as a servant!” he
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