Prince in Exile (11 page)

Hapu didn’t know what to do in front of such a vision so he fell to his knees and bowed down before her. Ramose stood smiling at his sister, he reached out to make sure she was real. Hatshepsut pulled her arm away before he could touch her. Her four companions drew around their mistress as if she might be contaminated by closeness to such an inferior person.

“What is it that you want, servant?” asked Hatshepsut. Her voice was like music from a lute. “Why are you in this part of the residence? Only my personal maids and the vizier’s servants are permitted in here.”

Karoya just kept staring. Hapu tried to speak but failed. Ramose’s smile faded. He realised that his sister didn’t know who he was.

“Penu,” he said. “Don’t you recognise me? It’s Ramose.”

Hatshepsut turned and studied his face.

“Ramose?” she said.

“Your brother.”

The calm, self-confident look on the princess’s face faded as she stared at the wet-haired boy in the stained kilt. She changed before his eyes from a composed princess to a confused young girl. She peered into his face.

“Ramose?”

“You’ve changed so much in such a short time. Have I changed too?”

Hatshepsut reached out and pushed a lock of wet hair back from his face and touched the scar on his forehead.

“Is it really you, Ramose?”

Ramose nodded. “It’s me, Penu.”

Hatshepsut put her arms around her brother. Ramose felt her wet cheek brush his as he hugged her. He wanted to cry out with happiness. He had his sister back.

In Hatshepsut’s chamber, Ramose sat next to her on the golden gazelle-shaped couch and told her his story. He told her about his faked death, his escape to the tomb makers’ village and how the banishment of Keneben his tutor had cut off his only link with the palace. He told her how much he’d missed her. Hapu sat with his mouth open as he heard the story for the first time. Hatshepsut listened, her face pale with shock.

“You’ve been very brave,” she said when he finished. “Father would be proud of you.”

“I thought that Father was going to be in the inspection party,” Ramose said.

“He isn’t well. I took his place at the last minute.” Hatshepsut’s face clouded with sadness. “He became ill while he was in Kush.” The princess glanced at Karoya.

“I have to see him,” said Ramose. “I have to let him know that I’m still alive.”

“I don’t think it would be a good time to go back,” said Hatshepsut. “Mutnofret is even more powerful now. She acts as if her brat is already pharaoh. She and Wersu are acting together as co-regents. Father is too ill to realise what she’s doing.”

“What do you want me to do? Stay here forever?”

“No, of course not,” said Hatshepsut taking her brother’s hand. “Just wait. Wait until father is strong again. I’ll arrange for Keneben to be sent back to Thebes. I’ll send you word when it’s safe to come, when Wersu and Mutnofret are away from the palace. It won’t be long, I promise.”

“I want to go home, Penu.” Ramose felt tears well in his eyes. He couldn’t help it. The memories of home flooded back.

Hatshepsut reached out and hugged him again.

“I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you, living as you have and being all alone.”

“I haven’t been alone,” he said, turning to Karoya and Hapu.

As soon as the princess looked at Hapu, he fell to his knees again.

“This is Hapu,” said Ramose. “He’s an apprentice painter in the Great Place. We’ve been working together there on Father’s tomb. He’s become a good friend.”

Hatshepsut smiled. “He seems rather stunned by these events.”

“He’s only just found out who I am.”

He turned to Karoya. “And this is Karoya. She’s a slave from Kush who grinds grain for the scribe.”

“A slave? You have a strange collection of friends, Ramose.”

“Karoya saved my life.”

“The slave girl doesn’t seem surprised to know who you are.”

“I told her some time ago. She had already half guessed, anyway.”

“A very clever slave it would seem.”

“A very inquisitive slave,” replied Ramose smiling at Karoya.

Hatshepsut had regained her composure. She looked and sounded like a princess again.

“Here,” she said taking off one of her bracelets and handing it to Karoya. “A reward for taking care of my brother. I suspect he’s needed some help.”

“I don’t need a reward,” said Karoya looking the princess in the eye.

“Then take it as a gift from me.”

Karoya took the bracelet from the princess, turning it over in her hands so that it caught the rays of sun that were angling in through the grilles in the ceiling.

Hatshepsut looked down at Hapu who was still on his knees.

“Stand up,” she said touching him on the head.

Hapu stood up, blushing under the princess’s gaze. “I’d like to thank you as well for helping my brother.” She went over to a chest and opened the lid. It was full of jewellery.

Karoya stared at the chest. “I’ve never seen so much gold and jewels,” she said.

“This is just my travelling chest,” said Hatshepsut reaching into the chest.

She pulled out a small amulet on a gold chain.

“Here,” she said. “Take this. It’s in the shape of the knot of Isis, so that the goddess will watch over you.”

Hapu took the amulet in his hand. It was made of red jasper and finely carved with papyrus reeds. He opened his mouth to thank the princess, but his voice failed him again. Princess Hatshepsut smiled at the apprentice painter, aware of the effect she was having on him. She turned to Ramose.

“There is a banquet I must attend. Wersu will be wondering where I am.”

Ramose glanced at the women. “Can we trust them?”

“Yes. They’ll do whatever I ask them,” said Hatshepsut. “I’ll send one of them with you to the gate, so that I know you got away safely.”

Ramose hugged his sister, clinging onto her, not wanting her to go. She pulled herself gently away. Ramose watched her as she swept out of the rooms. Part of him would have given anything to follow her and step back into his old life again. Another part of him knew he had to follow through what he’d started. He turned back to his friends.

“She’s…” said Hapu. It was all he could manage to say.

Ramose smiled. “We’d better get out of here,” he said. He led his friends down the corridor.

When they reached the courtyard, they were surprised to find it was almost dark. They were more surprised to find six royal guards barring their way with long-handled spears. A tall, thin figure in a long robe stepped out of the shadows. He was holding a lamp in insect-like hands. It was Vizier Wersu.

The lamplight threw sharp shadows on his crocodile face. Behind him were two smaller figures dressed in the working kilts of the tomb makers: Weni and Nakhtamun.

Ramose hung back in the shadows behind Karoya where the vizier couldn’t see his face.

“Search them,” ordered Wersu. Three guards stepped forward and grabbed Ramose and his friends.

“Take your hands off me,” yelled Karoya punching the guard as he tried to search through the folds of her belt. He found the princess’s bracelet and held it up.

The guard holding Hapu easily found the amulet that the princess had given him.

“See, I told you they’d come into the royal residence to steal,” said Nakhtamun triumphantly.

“I can’t find anything on this one, sir,” said the guard searching Ramose. “Wait a minute, bring over the light.”

The vizier strode over towards Ramose.

“He’s got something in his hand.”

The guard grabbed Ramose’s hand and roughly prised open his fingers. In the palm of his hand was his heart scarab. The lamplight illuminated the blue and gold of the scarab and a trick of the light made it look huge.

“It’s a heart scarab,” said the vizier, moving his lamp closer to the jewel in Ramose’s hand. “A royal one by the look of it.”

“He’s a tomb robber!” cried Weni. “I knew he was up to something.”

Ramose turned his head away, afraid that the vizier would recognise him.

“He’s not a tomb robber,” cried Hapu. “You don’t know who you’ve got there.”

The vizier turned to Hapu.

“You’ll be very sorry you did this, Weni,” continued Hapu. “Ramose is no thief, he’s—”

“Someone I summoned to the residence,” said a calm voice behind them.

Everyone turned and saw Princess Hatshepsut drifting toward them in the light of four lamps held by her female companions. The circle of light only reached as far as her knees, giving the illusion that she was floating above the ground. The red eyes in the snake’s head on her crown flashed.

“I thought it would be amusing to meet some people my own age who live and work out here in the desert,” said Hatshepsut looking Vizier Wersu square in the eye. “Why are you holding my guests at the point of a spear?”

“I have been informed that they are thieves,” said the vizier. “The slave girl has what looks to be one of your bracelets, Highness.”

“It was a gift from me, as was the amulet that I gave to the young man who blushes easily.”

Hapu blushed again.

“What about the heart scarab? Surely that has been stolen from a tomb.”

Ramose glanced at his sister. She wouldn’t be able to explain away the scarab so easily. Her face was as calm as ever.

“Really, Vizier Wersu,” said Hatshepsut with a laugh. “Can’t you tell a real lapis lazuli scarab from the painted ceramic copies that can be bought at any market stall in the city?”

The vizier peered at the stone in the dim light. Ramose kept his head turned away and his heart scarab firmly in his hand.

“Now, Vizier,” continued Hatshepsut. “If you’ve finished, I think you have kept the tomb officials waiting long enough. They are wondering where you are.”

Vizier Wersu was angry at being made to look foolish. “I’ll see that you boys receive ten lashes and a fine of a month’s wages for this,” he said glaring at Weni and Nakhtamun.

Hatshepsut turned and drifted serenely back into the royal residence in the halo of light provided by her companions.

“Come along, Vizier,” she said.

The vizier dismissed the guards with a jerk of his head and followed the princess. The guards escorted Weni and Nakhtamun out. Ramose watched his sister until she was out of sight. Hapu turned to Ramose.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were a prince?” said Hapu. “Didn’t you trust me to keep your secret?”

“It had nothing to do with trust,” said Ramose. “It’s dangerous knowledge. I didn’t want to put you at risk.”

Hapu looked at his friend with confusion. “I don’t know how to speak to you any more.”

“Speak to him the same as you always have,” exclaimed Karoya. “He’s the same person he was when you thought he was an apprentice scribe.”

Hapu didn’t look convinced.

“She’s right,” said Ramose. “When I first came here I was a spoilt prince. I think I’ve changed.”

“Oh,” said Karoya, “and what are you now?”

Ramose thought for a moment. “I’m still a prince,” he said. “But now I’m a prince who knows what it’s like to get dirt under his fingernails.”

Karoya laughed.

Ramose was standing on a dry, rocky hill. He looked around. There wasn’t a blade of anything growing. He looked down at himself. His clothes were dusty and his reed sandals were worn. He knew exactly where the remains of his red leather sandals were, the ones with the turned-up toes: they had been thrown into the rubbish pit outside the tomb makers’ village weeks ago.

He heard a mournful chanting drifting up from below. Snaking along in the valley was a procession. At the front was a jackal-headed priest. The sun reflected on gold and jewels. A beautiful coffin on an ornate sled was being pulled by six oxen. Six priests followed behind. They all wore brilliant white robes with leopard skins draped over their shoulders. It was a funeral procession. Ramose looked closer. How many loads of funeral goods were there? How many mourners were there?

He had a special interest in this funeral.

It was his own.

It was just like his dream seventy days ago, except this time he knew for sure it wasn’t a dream and he knew that he wasn’t dead.

“Look!” he said to Hapu. “That’s my funeral.”

Hapu smiled awkwardly. He was still getting used to the fact that his friend was a prince. “It looks impressive. Nicely painted sleds and tomb furniture from what I can see.”

Karoya was standing on his left, with the length of red and green cloth wrapped over her head to shield her from the sun. The princess’s gift glinted on her arm. “A lot of fuss for a clumsy apprentice scribe, I’d say.”

Ramose smiled at his friends. That was why he knew he wasn’t dreaming. In his dream he’d been alone and frightened in a strange place. Now he knew where he was, he knew where he was going and he had the company of friends.

He looked back over the desert hills to the green Nile valley and the silver strip of the river. Somewhere within the whitewashed walls beside the river, below the pennants fluttering from gold-tipped flagpoles, was his sister. That was where his future lay, over there in the palace on the banks of the beautiful river. But for now he had a life over the next hill in the Great Place, another shift to work. He turned back to the path.