Six for Gold by Mary Reed & Eric Mayer

ebony. On the ground before him lay his wares, feline corpses whose bodies were concealed in grubby wrappings reaching to their necks. Peter couldn’t help thinking of Anubis, guarding the dead.
    The purveyor of cat mummies stood up, bowed, and introduced himself. “I can tell you have journeyed from afar. I bid you welcome. Would you care for refreshment?” His Greek was not the best, but compared to the seller of souvenirs he might have been an orator.
    â€œRefreshment?” Having endured the sun beating on his head like a hammer for hours, Peter was tempted by the prospect of a sip of wine.
    Pedibastet motioned toward his shadowy doorway. A stout youngster, also garbed in black, darted out with a brimming cup which he pressed into Peter’s free hand before vanishing back into the darkness.
    â€œYou will surely honor me by accepting my humble hospitality,” Pedibastet smiled. “After you have drunk my poor wine may I draw to your attention my offerings? Expensive they may be, I admit, but few in Alexandria have such wonderful samples of increasingly rare items, reminders of a time so ancient that not even the oldest of the old can recall it. In short…”
    A sweep of his hand took in all of Egyptian history and his stock of recumbent felines equally. “I have for sale,” he went on, “having obtained them at great expense and not a little danger, I may add, authentic mummies of the animal sacred to the great goddess Bast.”
    Peter looked at the small, log-like bundles topped by shriveled feline heads resembling large, whiskered raisins. Here and there tufts of fur protruded untidily between the wrappings.
    â€œWell…” His tone was doubtful. “I am not certain what purpose the mummy of a cat would serve in my master’s household.”
    The man waved his hand again. “You are obviously newly arrived in Egypt, my friend. Have you never heard of the luck of Bast? Your master is wealthy?”
    Peter agreed that was the case. He didn’t mention that the only wealth currently at his master’s disposal was in Peter’s possession.
    â€œIn that case, your master would most certainly be interested in one of my little friends. An interesting and unusual memento of his visit, and of course the ladies do love the dear little things. Think how delighted he would be to display such treasures, timeless reminders of his journey to Egypt. Why, I would even lower my price for one such as he, for I am certain he is a man of culture, of great taste. See, already the luck of Bast is working for him! Take this beauty, for example.”
    He picked up a bundle that looked much like the rest, Peter thought. Indeed if anything it was somewhat more soiled than the others.
    Glancing around and lowering his voice as if he feared their conversation might be overheard, Pedibastet went on. “This cat came from the garden of the temple to the goddess of love. The temple lies in ruins now, but descendants of the sacred cats live there still. There are those who feed them, since 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