Karoya followed the priest.
“Now what do we do?” asked Ramose, once the priest was out of sight.
“I don’t know. I thought you had a plan.”
“I do. I have to get to Thebes to see my father.”
“And how did you imagine you would do that?”
Ramose hesitated. “I don’t know.”
“Well, it’s time you thought about that,” said Hapu. “Staying in Abydos for a while will give you some time to work out the best way to get to Thebes.”
“Or it will give me some time to get thrown into prison for pretending to be someone who I’m not.”
“You told him you were a scribe,” said Hapu, defensively. “I just…added a few details.”
Servants arrived with terracotta jars of water for bathing. Others followed with food—the sort of food they hadn’t seen for months: grapes and watermelon; freshly baked pyramid-shaped loaves of bread; lentils flavoured with cumin; roast goose and a salad of lettuce, cucumber and spring onions.
Karoya returned with clean clothes. Although they were all hungry, they were eager to wash off the dirt and sweat from their long journey. Once they were clean and wearing soft linen garments, they ate the food.
Ramose was glad to be dressed in Egyptian clothes again. And he was pleased to be full of good food, but Hapu was right. He didn’t have a real plan. Now that he was getting closer to Thebes he began to wonder what exactly he was going to do.
“I have to think of a way to get inside the palace,” Ramose said. “I have to see my father without the vizier knowing.”
“You’ll need a disguise,” said Hapu.
“I’m too tired to think of anything now,” said Ramose. “We’ll devise a plan in the morning.”
“I will sleep outside, like a good slave,” said Karoya.
Ramose smiled at her. “I am very glad that you are both here to help me.”
Hapu unrolled his reed mat on the floor. Ramose slept on a comfortable bed with a roof over his head for the first time since he had been whisked away from the palace. It felt strange.
The next morning, Ramose was woken by Karoya bringing in breakfast. Hapu yawned and stretched and surveyed the platters of food with pleasure.
“Can’t we just stay here in Abydos?” he asked, helping himself to some plum cakes.
Ramose picked up a fig and walked out into the courtyard. The morning air was already hot. He didn’t like Abydos. It was a dry desert town, too far away from the river. He was just about to bite into the fig when the priest who had spoken to them the day before arrived. He handed a pen box and a palette to Ramose.
“You are to work at the Temple of Osiris,” the priest said. “I will take you there.”
“What, now?” asked Hapu, through a mouthful of cake.
“Yes,” said the priest. “The work has been delayed for far too long already. It must be completed in time for the Festival of Osiris next month. Come.”
The priest turned and marched off. Ramose and Hapu had no choice but to follow him. He led them to the pylon. Guards allowed the priest to enter. They walked through the huge gateway. Through the pylon, they found themselves on a long avenue lined on either side with enormous sphinxes made of red granite.
The avenue led to the second pylon. They passed through this gateway and finally entered the temple itself. Inside it was cool and dimly lit by small windows high above their heads.
Temple workers were busy going about the daily business of the temple. Young women passed by carrying baskets of food offerings on their heads. The sound of chanting and the smell of burning incense drifted from chambers that they passed.
The ancient temple of Osiris was being repaired. Ramose had to record the progress of the work and ensure that the architect’s instructions were followed.
After half a day of writing out the texts to be carved on the walls in hieroglyphs, Ramose looked at his ink-stained hands and threw down his reed pen.
“I can’t stay here,” he said to Hapu, who was managing to look busy while doing nothing at all. “I have to get to Thebes. I have to see my father.”
“What are you going to do, run to Thebes?” said Hapu. “If we work here for a while, we’ll earn grain which we can exchange for passage on a boat.”
“It will be too late by then, I know it,” said Ramose. “I’ll go to the river and stow away on a boat.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” said Hapu.
Ramose was already on his way out of the temple, though. Hapu hurried after him. The guards at the temple gate glared at them suspiciously as they passed. Ramose headed back to the house where they were staying. Karoya was kneading dough.
“What are you doing back so early?”
“We’re leaving,” said Ramose.
“But—”
“We’re leaving now.”
Karoya didn’t argue further. She put her kneading stone in her bag. She wrapped the bread dough in a cloth and put that in the bag as well.
“Leave the nomad coats,” said Ramose picking up his reed bag. “We don’t want to look like we’re leaving. We have to pretend we’re going to a job outside of the city.”
Ramose strode down the street with his pen box and a piece of papyrus in his hand. “Don’t look so guilty, Hapu. Pretend it’s a game.”
Hapu changed his expression from that of a guilty thief to that of a rich and haughty merchant. Ramose laughed at his friend. He was still smiling when they reached the edge of the city, walked out of the gate and found two temple guards waiting for them. One of the guards grabbed Ramose. The other one held Hapu and Karoya.
“What are you doing?” shouted Hapu, though he had a good idea.
The priest came out of the shadows of the city wall. One of the guards took Ramose’s pen and papyrus. The other guard pulled the dough from Karoya’s bag.
“You are under arrest for stealing temple property,” the priest said.
“I knew we’d end up in prison,” moaned Hapu.
They weren’t taken to prison, though. The priest led them back to the temple and set them to work again, this time with the two guards watching them.
“You will work under guard until the work is finished,” the priest said. “Then we will decide what to do with you.”
Ramose had no choice. He picked up his pen and went back to work.
“We’ll never get out of Abydos,” he said miserably as they walked under guard back to their quarters that evening. “It’ll take me a month to finish the work and then who knows what they’ll do with me.”
“Something will turn up,” said Hapu hopefully.
When they got back to the house where they were staying, the priest was waiting for them.
“Now what’s wrong?” said Hapu. “Did Ramose make a mistake with one of the hieroglyphs?”
“You are under arrest,” said the priest.
“You don’t have to remind me,” said Ramose angrily. “I haven’t forgotten that you arrested me this afternoon.”
“There are new charges against you,” replied the priest.
“What?” asked Ramose with a growing sense of dread.
“You are charged with impersonating a temple scribe,” the priest said. “Guards, take them to the high priest.”
The high priest was seated on a high-backed chair which was placed on a raised platform. He had a slender sceptre in one hand. Draped over his left shoulder was a leopard skin. The animal’s head was still attached. Its dead eyes seemed to stare straight at Ramose.
The guards forced the boys to their knees. The high priest stood up and walked over to them, looking at them with distaste. “Which one is the impostor?” he asked.
One of the guards pointed to Ramose.
“He’s not an impostor,” said Hapu. “He’s a replacement. We told you, the scribe was injured.”
“Really?” said the high priest circling around the pair like a vulture. “I don’t believe that a grubby wretch who wanders in from
the desert is a temple scribe.”
“Are you suggesting we’re lying?” said Hapu, who was offended that his story wasn’t believed, even though not a word of it was true.
“Yes, I am,” replied the high priest. “We received a letter from the vizier last week. He is searching for three young people.”
Ramose went cold. A few weeks in the desert didn’t mean they were out of the vizier’s clutches.
“That doesn’t mean it’s us,” said Hapu, not sounding quite as bold.
“Unfortunately for you, the real scribe arrived this morning,” said the priest. “He says he knows nothing about a replacement.”
Hapu’s confidence evaporated like water in the midday sun. “But, there must be a misunderstanding,” he stammered.
“We’ll see. Here is the scribe.”
A man wearing a travel cloak entered the chamber. Ramose couldn’t believe his eyes.
“Keneben!” he exclaimed.
6
HOMECOMING PRINCE
Keneben’s mouth fell open as he stared in amazement at Ramose. Then he broke into a smile. Ramose couldn’t help himself. He rushed up to his tutor and threw his arms around him.
“My heart rejoices to see you,” he said, unable to prevent tears blurring his vision.
Ramose owed his life to the tutor. It was Keneben who had saved him from the queen’s plot to kill him. His friend had then been banished to a foreign country.
“Are you well, Keneben?”
“Praise Amun, I live, prosper and have health.”
The high priest watched this display of affection with complete surprise.
“This young man claims to be a scribe, taking your place. Is this true?”
“Not exactly, High Priest,” said Keneben.
Ramose’s smile faded.
“I come bearing news that the young scribe is unaware of.” Keneben looked at Ramose, rustling a papyrus he was holding in his hand. “I have just received news from Thebes that will bring sorrow to us all.”
Keneben paused.
“Our pharaoh is gravely ill. It is expected that he will ascend to heaven before the new moon.”
“May Amun grant Pharaoh long life and happiness,” said Ramose.
The high priest muttered similar words. It was what all Egyptians said whenever the pharaoh’s name was mentioned, but no one meant it more sincerely than Ramose. The gods had granted his wish to see his tutor again. He hoped they would answer this prayer as well.
“Though I was about to start work here at Abydos,” continued Keneben, “my services are urgently required at Thebes. Those of the young scribe will be required as well.”
The high priest scowled as if he were disappointed that he couldn’t punish Ramose.
“For this reason, High Priest, I ask your permission that we both return to Thebes as soon as possible.”
“I will arrange for your passage to Thebes.”
“Thank you, High Priest.”
Keneben and Ramose bowed to the high priest and left.
“Is it true, Keneben?” asked Ramose when he and Keneben were alone. “Is my father really about to die?”
“It is true, Highness,” said Keneben. “I wish it were happier circumstances that had brought us together.”
Ramose took his tutor’s hand in his. The last time he had spoken to Keneben was at the beginning of his adventures. He had said a sorrowful goodbye to his tutor as he left Thebes to start a life in exile as an apprentice scribe.
It seemed such a long time ago, but it was not much more than a year. He hadn’t heard anything from his tutor since the secret letter he’d received at the Great Place, telling him that Keneben had been banished from the palace to the distant land of Punt. The tutor’s skin was darker, as if he had spent a lot of time in harsh sun. There were lines on his face where before there had been none.
Keneben listened as Ramose told him what had happened since they last met.
“I used to hate studying,” said Ramose, “but there have been many times in the past months that I would have done anything to be back in the schoolroom copying texts.”
“It has been difficult for you, Highness,” said Keneben. “No prince should have to endure such hardship.”
“What about you, Keneben?” Ramose asked.
“I worked as a scribe in Punt for many months,” Keneben told him. “It was a most unhappy time.”
“But now you’ve returned,” said Ramose. “I saw you on the royal barge a few weeks ago. I knew that you were back from Punt and in favour with my sister again.”
Keneben’s grim mouth melted into a smile. “Yes. It was thanks to the efforts of your sister, Princess Hatshepsut, that I was able to return to the palace. She told the vizier that her studies were not progressing with the new tutor they had employed. She insisted that I teach her. I have been back at the palace now for several months.”
The tutor’s face flushed as he spoke of the princess. She had always had that effect on him.
They talked until late that evening. Ramose was unwilling to let Keneben out of his sight in case he disappeared again. It was a long time since he’d had news from the palace. He heard how his sister had grown tall and slender, how she had become even more beautiful, how her penmanship was the best Keneben had seen.
For Ramose, the palace had been a fading memory. There had been blank spaces in his memories, people and places that he could no longer picture. Now he could picture it all in detail. For the first time in months he felt like a prince again. It actually seemed possible that he would return to the palace and take his rightful place as the pharaoh’s heir. He didn’t want to lose that feeling.
Hapu and Karoya were asleep by the time Ramose went back to his quarters. He couldn’t get to sleep. The air in the room was stifling. Eventually he climbed over the snoring Hapu and took his mattress out into the courtyard. He breathed in the cooler air and looked up at the stars. In a few days, he would be looking at the same stars from Thebes.
When he finally fell asleep, he dreamt about the riverbank at the edge of the palace gardens. There was one place where blue lotuses grew at the water’s edge. In the dream, he was wading in the river, smelling the perfume of the lotus flowers. The sun was setting. He was thinking that this was strange, because the blue lotus flowers only opened in the morning. By evening they were usually closed tight. Then he looked again. The lotus petals turned into teeth and he realised he wasn’t surrounded by lotus flowers but by crocodiles that were snapping at his legs.
The next day, Ramose, Hapu and Karoya were aboard a boat on their way to Thebes with Keneben. The boat was crowded with all sorts of people who were needed in Thebes. The death of a pharaoh was one of the most important events that could happen in Egypt. Though everyone prayed Pharaoh would live, preparations had to be made in case he didn’t.
A strong breeze filled the sail. Ramose stood at the prow of the boat. He breathed in the cool Nile air. After travelling for so long on foot, it was wonderful to watch the fields and villages slip by so quickly. In a few days they would be in Thebes.
“You are still so young,” said Keneben. “I had hoped Pharaoh would live long, so that you would be a grown man before you took his place.”
“I am still young, as you say, and I may have only grown a little in height, but I have grown much in knowledge,” Ramose said. “I have endured more than I thought possible, Keneben.”
“You’ve had to look after yourself. Few princes know what it is like to be truly alone.”
“I haven’t been alone,” Ramose said, glancing at Hapu and Karoya who were sitting further back in the boat. “I couldn’t have done it without my friends.”
“Your sister told me that you had loyal friends. But a prince should not have to suffer such hardship.”
“It’s made me stronger, Keneben. I believe I am ready to become the pharaoh, even if I am still young. If my father is ready to be united with the sun, I am ready to take my place on the throne of Egypt.�
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Ramose secretly hoped that the news that he was still alive would give his father a reason to hold on to life. He remembered the oracle’s words. She had said he would see his father before he died. He didn’t really believe that the old woman at the oasis could see people’s futures, but her words encouraged him.
Ramose spent the time on the boat telling Keneben more about his adventures. In his turn, Keneben recounted to Ramose all that had happened to him in Punt. Hapu and Karoya sat apart from them. In the evening, the boat was tied up and they sat on the banks of the river eating their evening meal. Ramose went over to his friends.
“I haven’t seen much of you two,” he said.
“You’ve been busy talking to your tutor,” said Hapu.
“That doesn’t mean that you can’t sit with us.”
“When you are the pharaoh,” said Karoya, “you will not have time to sit and talk to slaves and apprentice painters.”
“You’ll be busy meeting with advisers, generals and foreign ambassadors,” agreed Hapu.
Ramose had been concentrating so hard on how he would achieve his goal, he hadn’t given much thought to what he would actually do when he became the pharaoh.
“I’ll talk to whomever I please when I’m the pharaoh,” he said grandly. “I’ll free all slaves. I’ll increase the wage of apprentice painters. I’ll give every Egyptian free cakes on my birthday!”
“You’ll be a popular pharaoh,” laughed Karoya.
For the first time, Ramose allowed himself to believe that he really was going home. He chatted all evening, about going back to the palace, about sleeping in his own bed, about the jewellery he would have made for his sister.
“You’ll have to discuss with the vizier how you want to rule Egypt,” said Hapu.
Mention of the vizier spoiled Ramose’s good mood. He hadn’t considered how he would deal with his enemy when he became the pharaoh.
“I will appoint a new vizier,” he said. “Someone I can rely on. Someone I can trust.”
The three friends ate in silence. No matter what Ramose said, they all knew that things would be different between them once they arrived in Thebes.
Sting of the Scorpion Page 5
