The Phantom and the Fisherman
Illustrated by Helen Flook
A&C Black • London
Reprinted 2009
First published 2004 by
A & C Black Publishers Ltd
36 Soho Square, London W1D 3QY
www.acblack.com
Text copyright © 2004 Terry Deary
Illustrations copyright © 2004 Helen Flook
The rights of Terry Deary and Helen Flook to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work respectively have been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyrights, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
eISBN 978-1-40811-600-5
A CIP catalogue for this book is available from the British Library.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means – graphic, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or information storage and retrieval systems – without the prior permission in writing of the publishers.
This book is produced using paper made from wood grown in managed, sustainable forests. It is natural, renewable and recyclable. The logging and manufacturing processes conform to the environmental regulations of the country of origin.
Printed and bound in Great Britain
by CPI Cox & Wyman, Reading RG1 8EX.
Contents
Chapter 1: The Miserable Master
Chapter 2: The Fearful Phantom
Chapter 6: The Terrible Teacher
“Do you believe in ghosts?” Menes whispered to his friend Ahmose.
Menes heard the sudden swish of a stick then felt it strike him on the back.
“No talking in class!” the fat and sweating teacher hissed.
“Sorry, Master Meshwesh,” Menes muttered. He bent his head over the plaster board in front of him. He dipped his reed pen in water, rubbed it against the black ink-block and started writing again.
Lessons were in a cool garden with a sparkling fountain. But still Menes sweated over his work.
But fat Master Meshwesh wasn’t finished with him yet.
“You will never be a good scribe if you talk when you should be working, will you, Menes?”
“No, Master Meshwesh,” the boy sighed.
“But, if you work hard, you will grow to be a temple scribe and as rich as a lord. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Menes?”
“Yes, Master Meshwesh.”
The teacher was panting in the midday sun and licking his thick lips.
“Yes, Master Meshwesh,” he mimicked.
“Rich. Learn to write and you can become a priest. Or even a corn dealer, like Ahmose’s father. Not like your father. A poor and stinking fisherman. If you talk in class I’ll have you thrown out of school and you’ll end up like your fishy, foul father.”
Suddenly the master grabbed Menes by the ear and lifted the boy to his feet. He breathed his onion breath into the boy’s face. “Have you brought any fish from home for me?”
“Yes, Master Meshwesh!” Menes squealed as the fat thumb and finger squeezed his ear.
“Good,” the teacher said. “In that case we will stop for lunch.”
The ten boys rinsed their pens in the water, stood up and stretched. Menes opened his linen bag and took out two pieces of dried fish and some bread. The teacher let loose the boy’s ear, snatched the food in one huge paw and grinned his gap-toothed grin.
“Tasty!” he said and smacked his lips.
“One fish was for me,” Menes said.
“Well, I’ve just taken it from you as a punishment,” Master Meshwesh said. He walked over to the shade of a garden wall and began to fill his face with the food in one hand then wash it down with a flask of beer in the other.
The boys knew he would sleep for an hour after lunch as he did every day. They would be free to talk.
Menes shook his head. “Tell me, Ahmose, do you think learning to write will make us rich?”
