Wrath of Ra

by Carole Wilkinson

  “And you, Karoya?” asked Hapu.

  Karoya didn’t reply straightaway. She sat shaping dough into flat discs as she had done on many other occasions when the three had travelled together.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she said. “I want my people to be free from Egypt’s oppression, but I don’t want to be at war with Egypt.”

  She placed the circles of dough on hot stones to bake them.

  “I have lost my place in the world,” she said quietly.

  Ramose knew exactly how his friend felt. They had a lot in common. They had both lost their closest family members. At a young age, they had been thrown from the only life they had known into a different world. Their lives had changed forever. Now they found that they belonged in neither world.

  “What can I do to help you?”

  “There is nothing you can do, Ramose,” Karoya finally said. “I’ll travel as far as Semna with you and then I will have to decide what I will do.”

  “I’ll go back to Semna, too,” said Hapu. “I’ll report to the fort commander there and wait for another boat heading to Sai.”

  Ramose nodded. They were all going their separate ways, but, for a little while at least, they would be travelling together.

  The three friends decided to walk to Semna rather than wait at the swollen river’s edge in the hope of a boat passing by and stopping for them. Karoya hated sailing even when the river was at its calmest. She needed no encouragement to avoid it at a time of the worst inundation in fifty years. Hapu thought that he needed to get fit again after weeks of inactivity at the rebel fort. Ramose agreed with the plan. He didn’t like to admit it, not even to himself, but he was happy to delay his return to the palace as much as possible.

  They travelled early in the day and in the evening, resting during the hottest period of the day. The river provided fish as always. Karoya had a useful supply of grain. They collected whatever else they could as they walked through the barren rocky land towards Semna. It took them three and a half days. It wasn’t an easy walk, but no one complained. They were all happy to postpone their separation. Ramose would never have guessed when he’d sailed by that desolate rocky land a month before that he would so soon have chosen to travel through it on foot. He could never predict what the gods had in store for him.

  On the afternoon of the fourth day, the fort of Semna loomed on the opposite side of the river. There was a local boat that ferried people from one side of the swollen river to the other. Unfortunately, they had nothing with which to pay the boatman.

  “But I’m Prince Ramose,” Ramose insisted, wishing that just for once someone would believe him. “When I reach the other side, I can arrange to have you paid threefold.”

  The boatman refused to believe that Pharaoh’s brother would be standing on a wharf in a dirty, ragged kilt and mended sandals without so much as a piece of copper. Hapu was threatening to send a battalion of soldiers over to sink his boat if he didn’t take them across the river.

  “I can pay for their passage,” said a voice behind them.

  The three friends all turned at once.

  “Vizier Wersu!” said Ramose, his scowl transformed into a smile. “It’s good to see a familiar face.”

  The confused boatman bowed down to the vizier. He’d never seen him before, but with his flowing robes and glittering medallion at least he looked like a vizier.

  The vizier went across the river with them. It was a slow trip, but Ramose needed the whole passage to tell the vizier all his adventures. It wasn’t until the boatman was tying up his craft that Ramose finally asked the vizier what he was doing in Semna.

  The vizier hesitated before he answered. “A number of matters required us to come to Semna,” he said. “Not the least being concern for your safety.”

  “So you got the letter from Kashta?” asked Ramose, puzzled that the letter had arrived so quickly.

  “No, Highness,” replied the vizier. “We left Thebes four weeks ago. We had not heard about your capture, but we did get news that the boat you were on had sunk and that no survivors had been found.”

  “Not entirely true as you see,” said Ramose, smiling grimly.

  “Look!”

  Karoya and Ramose followed Hapu’s pointing finger and saw a beautiful cedar boat moored downstream. The prow and stern curved up into elaborately carved papyrus stalks in flower. On the deck was a covered cabin, painted in red, blue and gold. It was the royal barge.

  “His Majesty will be overjoyed to hear that you are safe,” said the vizier.

  “Is Pegget here in Semna?” asked Ramose.

  “He is, Highness. He has come to dedicate the new temple to Ra here in Semna.”

  The vizier was staring out at the river as he spoke. Ramose suspected he wasn’t telling him everything.

  Inside the towering fort of Semna it was much the same as the fort they had visited at Buhen, except that where there had been a large open space for soldiers to exercise, here there was a pavilion. It was a huge structure made from many, many cubits of white linen. Coloured pennants fluttered from the tops of the gold-tipped poles. The simple mud brick buildings were not suitable for a visit from the pharaoh. The vizier escorted Ramose and his friends into the pavilion.

  “If you wouldn’t mind waiting here, Highness,” said the vizier.

  Ramose didn’t much like being told to wait like a servant. After ten minutes had passed and he was still standing there, he turned to his friends.

  “I’m not waiting around,” he said crossly. “I’m going to find my brother.”

  He took three paces in the direction that the vizier had taken and then he came to an abrupt halt. Four palace guards marched out and stood to attention, barring his way. They were followed by servants who spread embroidered rugs on the earth floor and lit incense. They brought out an ornate throne-like chair and placed it on the central rug. Three men who Ramose recognised as ministers from Thebes emerged next and stood around the empty chair. Then six women, all elegantly dressed, came out and also took their places around the throne. Finally, a single figure drifted out dressed in an exquisite pleated gown with intricate embroidery around the hem. Ramose stared at the figure.

  “Hatshepsut,” he said.

  “Ramose,” replied the princess as she took her seat and her women arranged her gown. “I see you are as grubby and dishevelled as ever.”

  “I was expecting our brother,” said Ramose, ignoring her comment.

  “Pharaoh is busy rehearsing the ritual for the dedication of the temple.”

  “You don’t seem surprised to see me. Even though it had been reported that I had drowned.”

  “You do have a habit of coming back from the dead.” She glanced at Karoya and Hapu. “I see you have found your friends along the way.”

  Hapu and Karoya both bowed to the princess.

  “I suppose you are planning to disappear to foreign lands again.”

  “No, sister,” said Ramose. “I have had time to think about my responsibilities. I intend to return to Thebes to serve our brother and Egypt.”

  The corners of Hatshepsut’s mouth turned up. Ramose felt a cold chill run down his spine.

  “I am most pleased to hear that you are keen to serve Egypt,” she said. “The war with Naharin does not go well.”

  “I will undertake some military training, as you suggested.”

  “But I thought you were in favour of a non-military response to the uprising.”

  “If that is possible, yes.”

  “You remember my proposal with regard to the Naharini?”

  Ramose felt as if a noose were tightening around his neck. “I’d forgotten about it until your reminder. I’ve had other matters on my mind.”

  “Things have progressed since your sudden departure. Your betrothed, Princess Tiya, arrived in Thebes soon after you left, keen to renew your acquaintance.”

  Hapu and Karoya looked at Ramose.

  “Your arrival is very timely, Ramose,” continu
ed Hatshepsut. “Here is the princess now.”

  The three friends turned together as the Naharini princess entered. Ramose’s mouth fell open. Hapu gaped in astonishment. Karoya stifled a laugh.

  The princess had none of the practised grace of Hatshepsut. She stomped out crossly and folded her arms. She muttered something in Naharini.

  “What did she say?” whispered Hapu.

  “Something about hating lettuce and cucumbers,” said Ramose, who knew a little of the Naharini language.

  Ramose stared at his betrothed. She was pretty even when she was pouting. She was dressed in the manner of the Naharin, which Ramose thought was quite attractive.

  Her dress was midnight blue and caught in around the waist by a cord. She wore lots of beads, not in the form of jewellery, but sewn onto her dress. The princess had brown hair that fell in soft waves to her shoulders. Her eyes were a startling blue. Under one arm was tucked a cloth doll. The princess was, by Ramose’s estimation, about seven years old.

  10

  THE BARBARIAN PRINCESS

  “Is this my husband?” asked the Naharini princess in broken Egyptian as she looked Ramose up and down with a scowl.

  Hatshepsut gave a slight nod.

  “I don’t like him,” said Princess Tiya. “He’s dirty.”

  “Prince Ramose has just arrived after a long and dangerous journey, Princess,” said Vizier Wersu. “He was captured by rebels. He has not yet had time to bathe.”

  “I’d rather have a pet monkey,” the princess said. “There are plenty of husbands in Naharin,” she added knowledgeably, “but no monkeys.”

  Hapu and Karoya were trying not to laugh as the little princess turned and stomped out without another word.

  Ramose raised an eyebrow. “I don’t seem to have made much of an impression on my bride.”

  Hatshepsut glared at him. “I am not concerned about her feelings…or yours. This alliance will stop an outbreak of war to our north.”

  Ramose was about to speak again, when Tuthmosis rushed in, barefoot, with several servants trailing anxiously after him.

  “Ramose, I’m so glad to see you,” said the pharaoh. “I thought you were dead.”

  “Not this time, Pegget,” said Ramose, hugging his brother.

  “You must have more adventures to tell me about,” said the boy as a servant knelt at his feet to put on his sandals and another one tried to comb his hair.

  “I have. I’ll tell you when we have our evening meal.”

  Hatshepsut stood up. “It’s about time you accepted your duty to Egypt, Ramose,” she said and left with her entourage.

  The vizier led the travellers out of the pavilion.

  “I’m afraid there are only soldiers’ quarters available for you, Highness,” he said apologetically, as they approached a low mud brick building.

  “This is a commander’s room,” he said, stopping outside a door.

  “It’ll do fine, Vizier,” said Ramose. “What about Hapu and Karoya?”

  “I’ll find a room for Karoya,” said the vizier. “Hapu will have to report to the barracks.”

  A cool bath made Ramose feel better. He scrubbed off the dirt of the desert and put on a clean white kilt. His reflection looked back at him from a polished bronze mirror. He looked like a prince again. Now he had to act like one.

  He was on his way to speak to the vizier, when his brother came tearing out of the royal apartments and raced straight past him. He was followed a few moments later by Princess Tiya, who was running full pelt after the young pharaoh.

  “You can’t catch me,” shouted Tuthmosis.

  “Yes I can,” yelled the princess.

  Ramose smiled and continued on his way. He found the vizier poring over a papyrus.

  “Vizier Wersu,” said Ramose, smiling at his friend. “You’re hard at work I see.”

  The high spirits of the children had further improved Ramose’s mood.

  “This has just arrived from Libya,” said the vizier, grim-faced and unaffected by Ramose’s good humour. “The news is not good. We must send another battalion north immediately.”

  The vizier looked old and tired. He, more than anyone, was burdened with the weight of responsibility for Egypt and her people.

  “At least you don’t have to worry about Naharin,” Ramose said, pulling up a stool and sitting next to the vizier. “Once Princess Tiya and I are married, there’ll be peace with the Naharini.”

  Vizier Wersu looked at Ramose with relief.

  “You intend to go ahead with the marriage?”

  “It’s my duty,” replied Ramose.

  The vizier’s careworn mouth started to form a smile.

  “I have one condition though.”

  The half-formed smile dissolved.

  “I want my wife and I to live in the palace at Thebes. I have sworn to the gods that I will support and advise my brother. My first duty is to Pharaoh. I can’t keep an eye on him if I’m in Naharin.”

  The vizier sighed. “Princess Hatshepsut will not like this arrangement.”

  “You’ll have to make her like it, Vizier.”

  Ramose looked into the old man’s watery eyes.

  “Wersu, this marriage is a strategy, no different to attacking a city or capturing a fort. It will be more effective if the young princess lives in Egypt. She’ll be a hostage. A spoilt and pampered one, but a hostage nonetheless.”

  “I will speak to Princess Hatshepsut,” said the vizier, getting creakily to his feet. “She can not argue with the wisdom of your proposal.”

  Ramose smiled. “Good. Let’s go and eat, then.”

  Karoya and Hapu were already in the pavilion, both washed and dressed in clean white clothing.

  Hapu’s eyes lit up when he saw the food that was being brought into the pavilion.

  “This is better than soldier’s rations,” he said to Ramose, as servants surrounded him with food. “I’d marry a spoilt brat of a princess if I could eat like this every day.”

  Hapu piled his bowl with gazelle meat, vegetables and enough bread to feed six people. Princess Tiya was not so easy to please. She shook her pretty head at everything that was offered to her. An old woman, who Ramose guessed was the child’s nanny, was trying hard to make her eat some beans. The princess picked up the beans and hurled them across the room. Some specially prepared meat was brought from the kitchens and she eventually settled down to eat.

  “What a little monster your future wife is,” said Hapu.

  “She reminds me of myself when I was that age,” said Ramose.

  “You weren’t such a brat, were you?”

  “I’m afraid I was.”

  Tuthmosis gestured to Ramose to eat with him. Throughout the meal, Ramose kept an eye on Vizier Wersu who was in deep conversation with Hatshepsut. After everyone had finished eating, the vizier stood and asked for silence.

  “I have an announcement to make,” he said. “Prince Ramose and Princess Tiya will be married as soon as it can be arranged. The royal couple will live in the palace at Thebes.”

  “That sounds like a wonderful idea, Vizier Wersu,” said Tuthmosis. “I’d like it if Tiya lived with us in Thebes.”

  The little princess was sulking again. “I want a pet monkey, not a husband.”

  “That will be my marriage gift to you,” said Ramose graciously.

  The princess’s face broke into a smile. “All right. I’ll marry you,” she said. Everyone laughed. Everyone except Hatshepsut, who glared at Ramose.

  “But before we return to Thebes and start planning the marriage,” the vizier reminded them, “we must concentrate on our purpose here in Semna. We have a temple to dedicate to Ra.”

  The happy mood was contagious. Everyone in the royal pavilion smiled and laughed. Even the normally morose ministers managed to smile. Dancers and musicians entertained the royal party. The little princess climbed up on the platform and played a game with Tuthmosis which involved throwing carved pieces of lapis lazuli in the air and s
eeing how many could be caught on the back of the hand.

  Ramose went back to join his friends.

  “We play a similar game in Kush,” said Karoya as she watched the children play. “Except we use ordinary stones, not jewels.”

  The two children were laughing as they played.

  “It’s good to see Pegget happy,” said Ramose.

  The only one who hadn’t caught the mood was Hatshepsut. She came up to Ramose.

  “The Naharini king may not want his daughter living in Thebes,” she said.

  “That’s why I’m writing to him personally and sending him a gift of twenty talents of gold,” Ramose replied with a broad smile. “That should make the loss of his daughter less painful.”

  Hatshepsut left the pavilion without another word.

  “I didn’t expect your forthcoming marriage to make you so happy,” said Hapu, as he got up to go to the barracks. “You’ve been smiling all evening.”

  “It’s not the marriage that’s making me happy,” said Ramose. “It’s the fact that I’ve beaten Hatshepsut. There was nothing she could say against my proposal.”

  Ramose woke with his heart beating fast, as if a sudden noise had disturbed his sleep. He’d fallen asleep as soon as he lay down on the clean, white sheets. Now he was wide awake again.

  He had the distinct impression that there was someone in the room. He listened. There was no sound. He sat up and looked around. Moonlight illuminated every corner of the simple room. It was empty.

  The incident left him with an uneasy feeling that he couldn’t shake. He couldn’t get back to sleep. He rose as soon as it was light.

  Ramose spread a sheet of papyrus on a low table and opened his battered pen box. Someone had filled it with fresh reeds.

  “I thought I was up early,” said Hapu as he poked his head around the door.

  “I couldn’t sleep. I have to write to the Naharini king.”

  Ramose picked up one of the reeds and chewed the end to make a brush.

  “Yerck,” he said, spitting out fibres of reed. “The reeds here in Semna taste worse than the reeds from Thebes. When I get back to the palace, I’m going to have a servant whose only job is to chew the end of my pens for me.”