Sting of the Scorpion (6 page)

“You don’t know how far it is to the river,” said Karoya. “You may not be able to carry enough food and water to get you there.’

“It’s too risky,” complained Hapu.

“I have to go,” said Ramose. “You two stay here and wait for the next nomads to come along.”

Ramose didn’t like to admit it, but the oracle’s words had affected him strongly. He still didn’t know what they meant, but whatever his destiny was, he had to face it. He had wandered from his path. He had wasted valuable time. He had to get to Thebes as soon as possible. He had to see his father.

He asked Jenu if he could have some leather for a waterskin. She nodded and cut him a length of goat hide from her stock. She showed him how to make the bag with the hairy side facing in. She also gave him a supply of dried goat meat and cheese. Ramose mended his sandals and his nomad coat. By the time he had finished his preparations, it was too late in the day to start his journey.

“We’re not staying behind,” said Karoya as the sun started to get low in the sky. “We’re coming with you.”

“You don’t have to,” said Ramose. “Stay here.”

“And then what would we do?” asked Hapu.

Ramose looked at his friends. Since the day they had chosen to follow him instead of going to the place that had been allotted to them, their destinies were tied up with his.

Hapu looked at the pool of water unhappily. “I think it would be better if we all waited here until other nomads come. But if you want to leave now, I’ll come too.”

“I’ll be grateful for your company.”

They left before sunrise the next morning. Jenu bade them all goodbye.

“The gods will be with you,” said the old woman. “They won’t abandon you.”

Karoya said goodbye to Mery with tears in her eyes. Jenu clutched Mery to her in case she tried to follow them.

“The cat will keep me warm at night,” Jenu said happily.

Earlier, Ramose had offered to come back and give her as much gold as she wanted once he had achieved his goal, if she gave the cat back. The old woman had refused.

The three friends loaded themselves up with food and water and walked out into the desert. The sun rose in front of them. They walked towards it in single file, keeping space between them. No one felt like talking.

In the heat of midday, they stopped and made a shelter from the hot sun with a length of goat-hair cloth and some sticks that Jenu had given them. They ate a light meal, drank a little water and slept until the worst of the heat had passed.

When they woke, they walked until two or three hours after the sun had set, then ate cold meat and cheese. They slept again and then walked in the darkness before dawn. They spoke little, not wanting to waste precious energy on idle talk.

Ramose wasn’t sure that they would make it to the river. He wasn’t convinced that he had a future just because a blind nomad woman had told him so. He kept walking.

Ramose glanced at Karoya. She had hardly spoken since they had left the oasis. Once or twice he had seen her wipe away some tears. He knew what a great sacrifice she had made for him. Karoya loved Mery dearly. The cat had been the only thing that was truly hers and she had given it away for his sake. All he’d got in return for her sacrifice were a few meaningless words from the oracle. He hoped one day he’d be able to repay her.

The routine was the same the next day and the next. Ramose didn’t tire; he just grew stronger and stronger. He began to feel like the desert would never stop and that didn’t matter because he knew he could walk forever. He was very surprised, therefore, when at mid-morning on the fifth day a large temple gradually rose up over the horizon, bright and shimmering in the heat haze. He recognised it immediately. It was a place he had visited before.

Abydos was a big town, not as big as Thebes, but big nonetheless. It had sprung up around the Temple of Osiris. The people who lived in the town all worked at the temple. Those who didn’t have jobs within the temple buildings worked outside the walls producing food for the workers and for offerings to Osiris.

“We shouldn’t have here,” hissed Karoya.

“We had to. We’ve run out of food.”

Ramose hoped that in such a big town they might not attract as much attention as they had in the villages along the Nile. He was wrong. He hadn’t realised how foreign they looked. They were still wearing the heavy clothing made from dark, hairy cloth given to them by the nomads. They hadn’t bathed properly in weeks. Ramose had no idea what his hair looked like, but Hapu’s was a tangled mess.

The temple workers in their white linen kilts and tunics looked spotlessly clean. They all smelled of perfumed oils and incense. Everyone who passed Ramose and his friends stepped around them so that they didn’t get too close to the foul-smelling foreigners.

“What are we going to do?” said Ramose. “We have no gold for food. We can’t beg on the streets.”

They wandered through Abydos, past the neat houses of the temple workers. Wherever they went, people turned to stare at them. They walked through the metalworkers’ quarter. The sound of hammers and bellows stopped as they passed. It was the same as they walked through the part of the town where the potters worked. The potters’ wheels stopped turning and all eyes followed the strangers.

“We’ll get arrested,” said Hapu.

“What for? We haven’t done anything wrong,” said Ramose.

“Not recently,” said Hapu.

“Egyptians don’t like strangers,” said Karoya. “People will want to know who we are. What are you going to tell them?”

“I’ll think of something,” Ramose answered.

Hapu and Karoya looked at Ramose doubtfully. Ramose actually didn’t have any ideas for a cover story. He was tired of sneaking and hiding, tired of hiding from his enemies. He was ready to face them—the sooner the better. He just had to work out how to go about it.

They found themselves at the foot of the temple walls. The dazzling white walls loomed above them.

“What is your business in Abydos?” demanded a stern voice behind them.

The three friends turned. A man in a perfectly white kilt without a crease stood glaring at them. He had a shaved head which shone in the sunlight. His eyebrows and eyelashes had also been removed. This told Ramose that the man was a priest.

“I’m a scribe,” said Ramose, not knowing what else to say.

The priest was puzzled. From the stranger’s clothing, he was probably expecting Ramose to have the harsh tones and ugly accent of a foreigner. Yet Ramose spoke in perfect Egyptian with the grammar of a scholar.

“You can’t be the scribe we’re expecting,” said the puzzled priest. “You’re far too young.”

The priest was waiting for an answer. Ramose didn’t know what to say.

“No, he’s not,” Hapu said, suddenly. “The scribe had an unfortunate accident.”

Ramose and Karoya looked across at Hapu in surprise.

“Yes,” continued Hapu, “the scribe’s right hand was crushed when a block of stone fell from a sled.”

“How unfortunate,” said the priest, still frowning dubiously at the strangers.

“This is the scribe’s apprentice,” said Hapu.

The priest looked at Ramose’s nomad coat and his worn sandals.

“I am not at all sure that an apprentice can take the role of temple scribe,” he said, scratching his shaved head.

Hapu thought for a moment. “He was an apprentice,” he said. “But now he isn’t. His training is finished.”

The priest peered at Ramose again. Ramose thought that after his recent adventures he must look at least five years older than he actually was.

“He is the cleverest apprentice in memory,” said Hapu, who seemed to be enjoying inventing a new history for Ramose as much as he enjoyed making up stories as they travelled. “The scribe is completely confident that Ramose is skilled enough to take his place.”

The priest looked at Hapu. “And you are…”

“I,” said Hapu, pulling himself to his full height of almost three cubits, “I am Hapu, temple artist and assistant to scribe Ramose.”

The priest was still troubled by the strange clothing of the scribe and his party. “Where are you from? Somewhere in the south, beyond the cataracts?”

“We have come from Kharga Oasis,” continued Hapu. “We were attacked by barbarians on the way. They took all our possessions, even our clothes, and abandoned us in the desert. We’re lucky we survived.”

“What were you doing in Kharga Oasis?” asked the priest, looking terrified at the thought of being lost in the desert. “I thought you were coming from Thebes.”

“Scribe Ramose had to record some details about a new temple at the oasis,” Hapu told him. “We were attacked as we were returning to the Nile.”

“How terrible. What else can you expect from barbarians, though?” the priest said shaking his head.

While he was out in the desert, Ramose had vowed that when he became pharaoh he would tell Egyptians that nomads were not criminals and barbarians. He’d only been back in Egypt for a few hours and already he had broken his promise and was confirming the same old myths and lies.

“How did you get from Kharga to Abydos?” asked the wide-eyed priest, who, like most Egyptians, would rather have jumped into a pit of snakes than venture into the desert for any reason.

“We walked,” said Ramose simply.

“Praise Amun for protecting you,” said the horrified priest.

“We are very tired and hungry,” said Hapu. “Perhaps you could show us to our quarters and arrange for our servant to fetch us some food.”

Karoya glared at Hapu.

“Yes, immediately,” replied the priest.

The priest led them towards the first pylon of the temple of Osiris. The pylon, a gateway flanked on either side by huge tapering stone towers, was covered with carved images and hieroglyphs. They didn’t enter the temple though. Instead of walking through the pylon, the priest led them around the eastern wall of the temple to a group of simpler, lower buildings where the temple craftsmen lived. They entered one of the houses. Inside it was cool and clean.

“We will need clothes,” Hapu said.

The priest nodded.

“Scribe Ramose will require scribal tools, since his own were stolen,” said Hapu.

The priest looked at Ramose to confirm this. Ramose nodded and smiled weakly. He was beginning to wonder what Hapu was getting them into.

“If your slave girl will follow me,” the priest said. “I will provide her with all that you need.”

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.