Ramses, Volume I

by Christian Jacq

  “Are you saying that you and your husband tried to plot against Ramses?”

  The princess hesitated.

  “I’m not a judge. Tell me the truth, Dolora.”

  “Well, we had ideas, yes. But what do you expect? Ramses is out to get us!”

  “No need to shout. I understand completely.”

  “You’re not angry with me?” she asked, reverting to her usual listlessness.

  “I’m only sorry your plans didn’t work out.”

  “Ramses thought you were to blame.”

  “I think he’s an impostor, and he knows it. He thinks I’ve given up the fight, and I haven’t.”

  “Sary and I could work with you.”

  “I was going to suggest it.”

  “We won’t be able to do much where we end up!”

  “I’m not so sure. I have a villa near Thebes I can let you use. You can make contacts there. I know there are government and religious leaders who are less than thrilled with our brother. They need convincing that his accession may not be a foregone conclusion.”

  “You’re too kind, and we appreciate your help.”

  Shaanar’s eyes narrowed. “If you had gotten rid of Ramses, what was your next step?”

  “We thought . . . we just wanted him out of the way.”

  “You wanted your husband on the throne, didn’t you? He could claim a connection through you, am I right? If we’re going to work together, you’ll have to forget that fantasy. Back me and only me. I’m going to win the throne, and when I do, I’ll take care of my friends.”

  Ahsha did not head back to Asia without attending one of Shaanar’s famous parties, which featured delicious food, excellent entertainment, and the latest gossip. Acid comments about the crown prince and his bride were interspersed with fulsome praise for Seti. No one found it strange to see the king’s older son conversing with the young diplomat who was making such a name for himself.

  “Your promotion is all set,” revealed Shaanar. “In less than a month you’ll be chief interpreter with the Asian delegation. At your age, it’s an accomplishment.”

  “How can I express my gratitude?”

  “Keep me supplied with information. By the way, did you attend Ramses’ wedding?”

  “Yes, with a handful of his closest friends.”

  “Any leading questions?”

  “None.”

  “He still trusts you?”

  “Beyond a doubt.”

  “Did he ask what’s happening in Asia?”

  “No. He doesn’t dare encroach on his father’s territory. Besides, his mind was on his marriage.”

  “Any progress in the field?”

  “Significantly so. Several of the smaller principalities would gladly support you, with the right incentives.”

  “Gold?”

  “It’s traditional.”

  “And its use strictly limited to Pharaoh.”

  “Nothing prevents you from making extravagant promises. Channel them through me, and no one will be the wiser.”

  “Excellent idea.”

  “Until you take power, our most important tactic is making you sound like the answer to everyone’s prayers. When the time comes, you’ll handpick your cabinet.”

  The court was astonished to learn that Ramses and Nefertari continued to live as before. The regent went on working in his father’s shadow; his wife managed Tuya’s household. Shaanar explained that this outwardly humble behavior was a clever hoax. They were wolves in sheep’s clothing, and neither Pharaoh nor his queen sensed the danger.

  The various elements of Shaanar’s grand design were beginning to mesh. Moses had so far resisted his overtures, but if there was a way to persuade him, in time Shaanar would find it.

  Another important defection might prove closer at hand. Tricky, but worth a try.

  He went to Merur for the dedication of a huge artificial lake where the harem ladies could swim and go boating. Iset the Fair, now visibly with child, was one of the guests of honor.

  “Feeling well, my dear?” he greeted her.

  “Never better, thank you. My son will be Ramses’ pride and joy.”

  “Have you met Nefertari?”

  “Yes, she’s a lovely person. We’ve made friends.”

  “She accepts . . .”

  “We’ll both be Ramses’ wives. As long as he loves me, I don’t mind not being the consort.”

  “A noble attitude, but an awkward position.”

  “You have no understanding of Ramses or those who love him.”

  “I envy my brother’s luck, but I doubt you’ll be happy.”

  “As mother of the next crown prince, I’ll have glory to spare.”

  “You’re getting ahead of yourself. Ramses isn’t on the throne yet.”

  “Are you questioning Pharaoh’s judgment?”

  “Of course not . . . but there’s no telling what might happen. My dear, you know how highly I regard you. The way Ramses treats you has been unspeakably cruel. Your grace, your intelligence, and your noble lineage make you the perfect choice for Great Royal Wife.”

  “That was a dream. I prefer reality.”

  “Are you dreaming still? Because I’m prepared to offer you the chance my brother has robbed you of.”

  “How dare you, when I’m carrying his child?”

  “Think it over, Iset. Think hard.”

  Despite discreet feelers and tantalizing third-party offers, Shaanar had been unable to buy one of Seti’s personal physicians. Incorruptible? No, they were merely prudent. They had more to fear from Seti than from his older son. Pharaoh’s physical condition was a state secret; breaches of confidentiality met with severe sanctions.

  Since the doctors were out of reach, Shaanar changed his approach. Doctors prescribed medications, and temple laboratories controlled the manufacture of all pharmaceuticals. If only he knew which one . . .

  The process was painstaking, but it finally paid off. Seti’s pills and potions were all made to order at the temple of Sekhmet. Approaching the laboratory director, an elderly, well-to-do widower, would be too risky. However, checking on his assistants proved worthwhile. One, a man in his forties, complained that on his salary he could hardly afford to keep his new, younger wife in gowns, jewelry, and cosmetics. He was the perfect candidate.

  Studying the pharmacy records, Shaanar deduced that Seti suffered from a serious but lingering illness. Within three years, four at the most, the throne would be vacant.

  At summer’s end, Seti made an offering of wine to the harvest goddess, a benevolent cobra. Her basalt likeness could be found protecting the fields. The farmers gathered around the king; his presence was a blessing in itself. The ruler liked to mingle with these simple folk, whom he preferred to most of his courtiers.

  When the ceremony was finished, there were speeches of thanks to the goddess of abundance, the god of grains, and to Pharaoh, who represented them on earth. Ramses became aware of his father’s direct connection to his people, who loved him as much as his officials feared him.

  Seti and Ramses sat down in a palm grove, by a well. A woman brought them grapes, dates, and cool beer. The crown prince had the feeling that for the king this was a respite, far from the court and affairs of state. His eyes were closed, his face glowing with a faint light.

  “When you are Pharaoh, Ramses, look deep in the souls of men. Look for advisers who are upright and firm, able to give an impartial opinion yet ever mindful of their oath of obedience to you. Name them to the right positions, to make sure that Ma’at is respected. Be merciless with the corrupt as well as with those who corrupt them.”

  “But, Father, you have a long time left to reign. We haven’t celebrated your jubilee yet.”

  “Twenty-five years on the throne of Egypt? It’s not to be.”

  “You’re solid as a block of granite, aren’t you?”

  “No, Ramses. Stone is eternal, my royal names will live through the ages, but my mortal form will disappear. I feel the
time coming.”

  The prince felt a searing pain in his chest.

  “But the country needs you so much.”

  “My son, you have endured many trials. You are wise beyond your years, but still in the springtime of life. As you grow older, remember the look in the wild bull’s eyes. Let it inspire you and give you the strength you need.”

  “At your side, it all seems so easy. Fate may still grant you many more years as king.”

  “The most important thing is to prepare yourself.”

  “Do you think the court will accept me?”

  “When I go, your opponents will set up roadblocks, and try to undermine your path. Your first great battle will be one you fight all alone.”

  “Without a single ally?”

  “Not even your family. Where you were most generous, you will find ingratitude; where you were kindest, betrayal. Beware of your closest associates and friends. Rely only on yourself. On that fateful day, no one will be there to help you.”

  FORTY-NINE

  Iset the Fair gave birth to a lusty boy. They named him Kha-em-Waset, “He Who Appears in Thebes,” where Iset now lived in the royal palace. Once Ramses had seen him, Kha was handed over to a wet nurse so that his beautiful mother could rest and recover. Ramses was proud of his firstborn son. Touched by his happiness, Iset the Fair promised to give him more children if he would keep loving her.

  When he left, she felt very much alone. Shaanar’s words came back to haunt her. Ramses had gone home to Nefertari, so exasperatingly kind and thoughtful that it would have been simple to hate her. But Ramses’ principal wife was beginning to win people over without even trying, just by being herself. Iset the Fair had also fallen under her spell, to the point of condoning Ramses’ behavior.

  It was hard being on her own. She missed the glitter of court life in Memphis, the endless conversations with her childhood friends, boating on the Nile, poolside parties at splendid mansions. Thebes had its wealth and splendor, but it was not her home.

  Perhaps Shaanar was right. Perhaps she should never have settled for the role of secondary wife.

  Homer ground up dried sage leaves and dumped the powder inside a good-sized snail shell, inserted a hollow reed, lit the mixture, and inhaled hungrily.

  “Strange custom,” remarked Ramses.

  “Helps me write,” said the poet. “How is that wonderful wife of yours?”

  “Still working for the queen.”

  “Your women are so independent. In Greece, they don’t get out much.”

  “And you think we’re mistaken?”

  “To tell the truth, I don’t, at least not on that score, but you have plenty of other customs I disagree with.”

  “Feel free to tell me.”

  Ramses’ receptiveness amazed him. “You don’t mind criticism from your guests?”

  “If your comments can lead to improvements, they’re more than welcome.”

  “Strange country . . . In Greece, we spend hours debating, our orators are fiery, we argue with daggers drawn. Here, who questions a word that Pharaoh says?”

  “He is the instrument of Ma’at, the goddess of truth. If Pharaoh falters, disorder will follow, and man will revert to his natural state of misery.”

  “Have you no faith in the individual?”

  “None at all, for my part. When man fends for himself, cowardice and treachery are rampant.”

  Homer drew another puff. “In my Iliad you’ll find an old acquaintance of mine, a soothsayer who could read the past, present, and future. I feel a certain peace of mind for your country at present; your father is a wise man in the truest sense. But the future . . .”

  “So you’re a soothsayer, too?”

  “What poet isn’t? Listen to these verses from the first book of my poem: ‘From the peaks of Olympus, Apollo descends, furious, carrying the bow on his shoulder and the quiver well closed: he is full of rage, and on his back, when he leaps, the arrows knock against each other. Like dark night he approaches, shooting men . . . innumerable pyres must light to burn the corpses.’”

  “In Egypt only the most hideous crimes carry the penalty of burning at the stake.”

  Homer seemed irritated.

  “Egypt is at peace . . . but for how long? I had a vision, Prince Ramses, a vision of arrows falling from the sky like rain, piercing the bodies of young men. There’s war on the way, and no way out of it.”

  In Thebes, Sary and Dolora were hard at work for Shaanar. After long discussions, they had decided to do as he asked and become his staunchest supporters. Not only would they be getting back at Ramses, but they could also earn prominent positions in Shaanar’s court—allies in war, allies in victory.

  Dolora had no trouble establishing relations with the best families in town. She was, after all, a princess. She had moved south, she explained, to learn more about their marvelous province, enjoy the country life, and be closer to the great temple of Amon at Karnak, where she and her husband planned several long retreats.

  At parties and in private conversations, Dolora dropped hints about Ramses. Who knew him better than she did? Seti was a great king, an irreproachable ruler; Ramses would be a tyrant, ignoring Thebes and its dignitaries. The temple of Amon would receive less support, and commoners like Ahmeni would be put in positions usually reserved for aristocrats. She added detail after detail, building a horrific picture. Opposition to Ramses solidified.

  Sary’s tack was to take the moral high ground. The head of the Kap accepted a teaching position in the temple school at Karnak and volunteered to help design altar displays. His humility was much admired. Influential members of the religious hierarchy enjoyed his conversation and invited him to dine. Like his wife, he spread poison everywhere he went.

  When he was allowed to view the construction site Moses directed, Sary congratulated his former student on Karnak’s incomparable new hall of columns, truly in proportion to the greatness of the gods.

  Bearded and weather-beaten, Moses had toughened physically. He was meditating in the shade of a giant pillar.

  “It’s so good to see you again! Another one of my students who’s gone on to do great things.”

  “Don’t speak too soon. I won’t rest easy until the last column is standing.”

  “One hears nothing but praise for how hard you work.”

  “Making sure the workers work hard, that’s all.”

  “You’re brilliant, Moses, and you do me credit.”

  “Are you here on business?”

  “No, Dolora and I have taken a villa just outside Thebes; I’m teaching scribes in a temple school at Karnak.”

  Moses raised an eyebrow. “That sounds like a demotion.”

  “It is.”

  “What happened?”

  “Do you want the truth?”

  “If you want to tell me.”

  “It’s not easy to talk about.”

  “Then don’t.”

  “All right. The fact is, Ramses had me fired. He made horrible accusations against his own sister and me.”

  “Can he back them up?”

  “He doesn’t have one shred of evidence. Otherwise he’d insist on pressing charges, you know that.”

  “Yes, he would,” thought Moses, momentarily stunned.

  “Power has changed him,” Sary continued. “My wife made the mistake of suggesting he take things more slowly. He’s as headstrong and extreme as ever, unsuited for his new responsibilities. I’m sorry to say so, believe me. Like Dolora, I tried to reason with him: no use whatsoever.”

  “Exile must be difficult.”

  “Exile? I’d hardly call it that. The country is magnificent, the temple soothes my weary soul, and I’m satisfied passing my knowledge on to young scribes. I’m beyond the age of ambition.”

  “Wouldn’t you say that you’ve suffered an injustice?”

  “Ramses is the prince regent.”

  “Misuse of power is still a crime.”

  “It’s better this way, beli
eve me. But take care with Ramses.”

  “Why should I?”

  “I’m convinced he plans to eliminate his oldest friends, one by one. He no longer has any use for us, and neither does Nefertari; it’s the two of them against the world. She’s a terrible influence. Be careful, Moses! It’s too late for me, but look out for yourself.”

  The Hebrew meditated longer than was his custom. He respected his former teacher, who showed no hostility toward Ramses. Had marriage changed his old friend?

  The lion and the yellow dog had accepted Nefertari. Except for Ramses, she was the only one who could pet Fighter without risk of being mauled. Every ten days the young couple and their pets took a day off and went to the country. Fighter ran alongside the chariot, and Watcher wedged himself behind his master’s legs. They would picnic at the edge of a field, watch ibises and pelicans soar and dive, and greet the villagers. Nefertari charmed them with her beauty and ability to find the right tone for each person and every situation. More than once, she found an unobtrusive way to ease someone’s struggles with old age or infirmity.

  Whether dealing with Tuya or a servant, Nefertari’s manner was the same. She was attentive and calm, and possessed all the qualities Ramses lacked: patience, restraint, equanimity. Her every gesture bore the stamp of a queen. From the first, he knew she was irreplaceable.

  The love that grew between them was quite different from his feelings for Iset the Fair. Nefertari also took joy in her lover’s body and her own, but even in their moments of passion, a different light shone in her eyes. Unlike Iset the Fair, Nefertari understood Ramses’ innermost thoughts.

  At the start of the twelfth year of his father’s reign, Ramses asked Seti for permission to take Nefertari to Abydos and introduce her to the mysteries of Osiris. The royal couple, the regent, and his wife left together for the holy city, where Nefertari was initiated.

  The morning after the ceremony, Queen Tuya gave her a golden bracelet to wear as she celebrated the daily rites at the Great Royal Wife’s side. The young woman was moved to tears. She had not left the religious life behind after all.