In the Land of the Bow
In the Land
of the Bow
Paul Collins and Keith Taylor
When Christopher got his
new bike he knew it would
take him to all kinds of
interesting places. But he
never thought he’d end
up thousands of years in
the past, in ancient Egypt.
Join the young hero in this
historical fiction/fantasy as
he finds himself battling a
fiendish and deadly plot.
Springboard 6
Written by Paul Collins and Keith Taylor
Cover image of archer with bow, image from PhotoAlto; Egyptian temple carving
(background), image from Photodisc
© 2007 Macmillan Education Australia Pty Ltd
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval
system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying,
recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner.
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In the Land of the Bow
In the Land
of the Bow
While every care has been taken to trace and acknowledge copyright, the publishers
tender their apologies for any accidental infringement where copyright has proved
untraceable.
Published by
Macmillan Education Australia Pty Ltd
Level 1, 15–19 Claremont Street, South Yarra, Victoria 3141
www.macmillan.com.au
Edited by Gordon Coutts/Emma Turner
Designed by Kevin Currie
Printed in Hong Kong
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
ISBN: 978-1-4202-6211-7
Contents
Over the Edge....................................4
Amenemhêt........................................7
The Young Scribe.............................15
Insult to the Pharaoh........................20
Falsely Accused.................................26
Amenitré’s Plan................................ 35
More Trouble Brews.........................42
The Scurrilous Artist.......................50
Caught in the Alley.......................... 58
A Thoroughly Evil Scheme ............. 67
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over the edge
Over the
Edge
I
t was really dumb of me to go
riding along Joan Grifford’s
Walk, but Mum and Dad had
just bought me a fantastic new
mountain bike, which was
equipped with a progressively
rated suspension, a dual mode
link, and the Marzocchi Z1
Bomber suspension fork.
It had everything, but I say it had everything
because I don’t have the bike any longer – it went
sailing over the cliff with me.
It was already spitting when I ventured outside,
but I wouldn’t listen to Mum’s warning: “It’s
going to thunder, Christopher, so be sensible and
wait a little while, OK?”
As I said, I didn’t listen, but went racing off
regardless, climbing onto the bike and careening
up to the old deserted lighthouse. The grass
was slippery and the winding path is dangerous
even at the best of times, but I had a new bike
and I wanted to see exactly what that baby was
capable of.
Anyway, I was tearing along like a crazy
person, and then a thin line of lightning forked
out and sliced a tree completely in half. The tree
came thundering down in front of me. I was
going too fast, and the brakes either failed or
the tyres couldn’t grip the slippery grass – either
way, I crashed sideways and narrowly missed
the tree, for which, at the time, I was incredibly
grateful. Then I slid along on the seat of my
pants, thinking stupidly, Mum’s going to kill me for
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In the land of the bow
wrecking these pants. And then I went over
the cliff.
Let me tell you what goes through your mind
when you’re plummeting down a cliff at a zillion
kilometres per hour: I thought of my new bike
wrecked on the rocks, I pictured my broken body
on the beach, and I wondered what Mum and
Dad would say when they heard I’d done such a
stupid, stupid thing.
Down, down, down I fell, feeling as though
the ground was rising up to swallow me forever.
SMACK!
Amenemhêt
S
uddenly, I woke up, and I
immediately gagged at the
rancid stench. I bolted upright and
when I saw – and smelled – where
I was and what I was sitting on, I
opened my mouth to scream – it
definitely wasn’t a hospital bed!
I was on a straw pallet, like you see in those
Roman or Conan the Barbarian movies, and it
smelled something terrible. Confused, I looked
down at myself and realized I was dressed in
really ugly, uncomfortable, scratchy clothing.
My heart was pounding like a metal press
– thudthudthudthudthud.
Dozens of thoughts and images ran through
my mind. People always said the sailors who died
around here haunted the lighthouse – maybe
their evil spirits had taken me away! Then again,
that was really dumb, because I didn’t believe in
ghosts at all.
My head was throbbing, so I touched it
gingerly, then stared in shock and amazement
at my hand – there was congealed blood all over
it. And my curly, bushy hair – it had somehow
completely disappeared!
The room started spinning and I sat back
down again, but the next thing I knew a woman
came rushing into the room with a bowl of water.
She was screaming in a language that wasn’t
English, yet for some reason I could understand
every single thing she said.
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In the land of the bow
amenemhêt
“Neper, quickly! Call for the physician to come
at once – Amenemhêt’s awake!”
Amenemhêt? The room was spinning faster
and faster, uncontrollably, until I felt myself
dropping to the floor and falling into oblivion.
When I awakened next, I decided to take
things rather more carefully, so I just kept my
eyes shut and concentrated on figuring this
whole thing out. One moment I was about to die,
and the next moment I was in some primitive
place, with people speaking a foreign language
and referring to me by someone else’s name, so
either I was dreaming or I was having the worst
nightmare any kid had ever had.
Strange new thoughts suddenly appeared in my
head – the Pharaoh Akheperkare had died and
his son, Prince Tuthmes, was now king, and the
savage tribes further up the river had rebelled as
soon as they heard about it – but then they always
did that, hoping the new king wouldn’t be strong
enough to stop their uprising. And of course,
the king always showed just how completely and
utterly wrong they were.
Say what? Maybe I’d been studying ancient