night by yourself.”
Ramose looked at the pink glow in the sky. “It isn’t the night.”
“What are you doing up so early?” asked Hapu rubbing his eyes. “The boat to Tombos doesn’t leave till mid-morning.”
“I’m not going to Tombos,” said Ramose. “I’m going to Memphis to see my father.”
4
RIVER JOURNEY
“And you weren’t even going to say goodbye?” Karoya was sitting with her arms folded crossly.
“I thought it would be better if you were as surprised as everyone else. I didn’t want you to get into trouble.”
“I’m coming with you,” said Hapu, scrambling to his feet.
“I have to hurry,” said Ramose gathering up his things. “The boat to Memphis leaves soon.”
“I suppose once you’re pharaoh you won’t be interested in having an apprentice painter for a friend.”
“Certainly not a slave.”
“That’s not true. I was just concerned about your safety. It’ll be dangerous when I get to Memphis. I have enemies there. My father is ill. It won’t be easy to get to see him.”
His friends sat in silence.
“I’ll send for both of you when it’s safe. I promise.”
“If it’s going to be so difficult, you’ll need help,” said Hapu rolling up his reed mat. “And anything’s better than going to Tombos.”
Ramose didn’t have time to argue. He couldn’t decide whether he was glad or not that his friends were coming with him. He appreciated the company, but three people wandering around Egypt were a lot more obvious than one. They had to work out a story.
It was easy enough to get on the boat to Memphis. The boatman was happy to carry them without asking questions once he had one of Ramose’s gold rings in his hand.
It was a long way to Memphis. The winds blew from the north, any boat sailing south only had to put up a sail to be carried down the Nile. Travelling north wasn’t so easy and the wooden boat had a crew of oarsmen to push it against the prevailing wind. They were away before most people were awake.
The journey was going to take two weeks at least. Ramose would have plenty of time to think about what he would do when he arrived in the northern city. The boatman was very curious about his young passengers. Ramose told him the story that they had invented—that he and Hapu had been apprenticed to workers at the temple of Ptah. He pulled out a scroll of papyrus and showed the boatman. The boatman looked at the squiggly writing and the important-looking red seal on the bottom and nodded.
“The old temple is being rebuilt,” said Ramose. Hapu nodded knowledgeably. “The slave girl will cook for us on our journey.” Karoya tried to look like an obedient servant.
The boatman looked suspiciously at Mery, who was miaowing loudly and unhappily from her basket.
“A present for the lady of the household where we will be staying,” explained Ramose. Hapu nodded again.
The boatman seemed satisfied with their story and went off to shout at the oarsmen.
Hapu waited until he was well out of earshot before he spoke. “That papyrus is the list of food sent to the Great Place from the city last month!”
Ramose grinned. “I knew he wouldn’t be able to read.”
“So I am your slave as usual,” said Karoya.
“You
are
a slave, Karoya,” said Hapu. “What else was he supposed to say?”
“He could have said I was a princess from Kush going to pay tribute to Pharaoh.”
“I don’t think you’re quite dressed for the part. And where are all your servants, Your Highness?”
“Stop arguing, you two,” said Ramose. “The boatman will hear.”
He glanced over at the boatman who was now settling down for a rest.
“You will have to be our slave while we are travelling, Karoya. Anything else would just attract attention. I promise you that as soon as I am pharaoh, the first thing I will do is grant you freedom and see that you are returned to your homeland.”
They were the only passengers on the boat. The boat had a cargo of logs, precious