Ramses, Volume V

by Christian Jacq

  “It’s the life your mother would have chosen, if fate hadn’t dictated otherwise.”

  “Weren’t you the master of her fate?”

  “Pharaoh’s duty is to act in the world, although his innermost thoughts may remain with the temple. Today I must preserve the peace, Meritamon. To that end I plan to marry the daughter of Emperor Hattusili.”

  “Will she become Great Royal Wife?”

  “She will, but I need to celebrate my second sed-feast before the wedding. Which leads me to a decision I cannot make without your consent.”

  “I have no desire to play a role in the government, as you well know.”

  “The sed-feast cannot take place without the active participation of a native-born Great Royal Wife. Would you consider acting as a stand-in?”

  “Meaning I’d have to leave Thebes, go to Pi-Ramses, and what then?”

  “Although you’d officially be Queen of Egypt, you could return here to the life you’ve chosen.”

  “I won’t be called to a public life in the future?”

  “I’ll only ask for your help with my jubilees, which Kha plans to schedule every three or four years until the end of my lifetime. You’re free to accept or refuse, Meritamon.”

  “Why me?”

  “Because years of meditation have given you the spiritual and magical capacity to fulfill a demanding religious role.”

  Meritamon stood still, gazing back at the temple of Gurnah.

  “You ask too much of me, Father, but you are Pharaoh.”

  Setau grumbled. Far from his beloved Nubia, a fabulous hunting ground for snakes, he felt exiled. Still, he had plenty to do. Lotus’s nightly excursions into the countryside yielded fine specimens, and the venom he extracted from them by day had been the basis for many improved remedies, breathing new life into the royal laboratories. Also, acting on Ahmeni’s advice, he was making good use of this stay in Pi-Ramses to hone his management skills. As he matured, Setau had been forced to admit that his enthusiasm was not enough to convince high officials to grant him the resources he needed for his little corner of Nubia. Without becoming a practiced courtier, he had grown more adept at presenting his requests, and the results were pleasing.

  Leaving the office of the head of the merchant marine, who had agreed to earmark three new cargo ships for him, Setau encountered Kha, whose face looked less serene than usual.

  “Problems?”

  “Organizing this sed-feast requires almost constant attention . . . and I’ve just had some upsetting news. The inspector of temple supplies for the Delta, who should be able to supply me with most of the sandals, linen, and alabaster cups that we’ll need, has almost nothing on hand. That throws off all my calculations.”

  “Has he offered you any explanation?”

  “He’s away on business; his wife is the one who wrote me.”

  “He doesn’t take his job very seriously! I’m only a junior official, but I’d never act that way. Let’s go ask Ahmeni about this.”

  Munching on a goose drumstick, absentmindedly dipping it in red wine sauce, Ahmeni perused the reports the inspector in question had sent from his headquarters north of Memphis.

  Ramses’ private secretary quickly reached a conclusion, and it was unequivocal.

  “Something doesn’t click. Kha was well within his rights to request extra supplies for the sed-feast, and according to my records the inspector should have no problem supplying his needs. I don’t like the look of it . . . not at all.”

  “Could there be some mistake in the inspector’s calculations?”

  “Perhaps, but I checked them against my own books, and I know there’s no mistake there.”

  “This may have an impact on the celebrations,” confessed the high priest. “To welcome the gods and goddesses we need the finest temple linen available, the best sandals, the—”

  “I’ll call for an audit at once,” announced Ahmeni.

  “Just what a scribe would propose,” railed Setau. “An audit will be long and complicated, and Kha has no time for that. Let’s try something less official. Name me as your deputy and I’ll clear this up in no time.”

  Ahmeni frowned. “We’d be stretching the law . . . And what if it’s dangerous?”

  “I have some reliable helpers. Let’s not waste time talking. Write me my orders, Ahmeni.”

  Deep in the warehouse district north of Memphis, Dame Cheris was directing operations with the skill of a seasoned general. Small, dark, attractive, and strong-willed, she directed the mule drivers arriving with laden convoys, divided tasks among the packers, checked invoices, and waved her big stick in the face of anyone who dared cross her.

  A woman of character, the kind that appealed to Setau.

  With his disheveled hair, several days’ growth of beard, and new antelope-skin tunic that was somehow even shabbier than the old one, Setau quickly caught her eye.

  “No loitering here,” she warned him.

  “I’d like to speak with you.”

  “No time to talk. I have work to do.”

  “Your work is exactly what I was hoping we could discuss.”

  Dame Cheris flashed him a malicious grin. “Could it be that you don’t like to see a woman running things?”

  “No, I simply wonder whether you’re credentialed to act in an official capacity.”

  Her dark eyes registered astonishment. A vagabond would never express himself in those terms.

  “Who are you?”

  “A deputy auditor named by the central government.”

  “Pardon me, but I had no idea, the way you’re dressed . . .”

  “My superiors disapprove, but they humor me because I get results.”

  “Speaking of credentials, would you mind showing me your written orders?”

  “Here you are.”

  The papyrus bore all the necessary seals, including the vizier’s stamp of approval.

  Dame Cheris read and reread the text which gave this deputy auditor the right to examine the warehouses as he saw fit.

  “In fact, my orders were to present this document to your husband.”

  “He’s out of town.”

  “Shouldn’t he be overseeing the operations?”

  “His mother is very old, and she needed him.”

  “So you’re filling in, I take it.”

  “I know the job and I do it well.”

  “A serious problem has arisen, Dame Cheris. You seem unable to supply the palace with the items required for the king’s upcoming sed-feast.”

  “Well . . . the order was unexpected . . . and it’s true that we’re experiencing shortages.”

  “And how do you explain that?”

  “I don’t know all the details, but apparently there’s been a large transfer of goods to a secondary site.”

  “What site is that?”

  “I wasn’t told.”

  “Who authorized the transfer?”

  “I wouldn’t know, but as soon as my husband is back he can answer all these questions to your satisfaction, I’m quite certain.”

  “Tomorrow morning I’ll start examining your books and inspecting the warehouses.”

  “Tomorrow I’d planned a cleaning detail and—”

  “Remember, Dame Cheris, I’m on a special mission. My superiors want a report as soon as possible. You’re to give me free access to your books.”

  “You won’t know where to begin!”

  “I’ll manage. See you tomorrow, Dame Cheris.”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Dame Cheris had no time to lose. Once again, her imbecile of a husband had overreacted to an official requisition. When he showed her a copy of his reply, she’d flown into a violent rage. Too late to intercept the courier . . . Cheris had promptly packed her husband off to a village south of Thebes, hoping the incident would blow over and the palace would fall back on other resources.

  Unfortunately, the government reaction had been quite different. His bizarre appearance notwithstanding, this de
puty auditor seemed determined and resolute. Cheris had momentarily considered trying to buy him off, but that was too risky. She’d have to activate her emergency plan.

  At closing time she had four packers stay behind with her. Her losses would be major, but this was the only way to escape detection. Still, it would be hard to sacrifice the goods they’d so patiently misappropriated.

  “We’ll meet just past midnight,” Cheris ordered her four strong men. “Go inside the building to the left of the main warehouse.”

  “It’s always locked,” objected one of the packers.

  “I’ll unlock it for you. You’ll transfer the contents to the main warehouse—fast as you can, and without a sound.”

  “It’s outside regular hours, Mistress.”

  “That’s why I’m offering an extra week’s pay for this one night of work. And a bonus besides, if you do a good job.”

  Broad smiles spread over the four men’s faces.

  “After tonight, you’ll forget about what you did here. Do we understand each other?”

  The threat in Cheris’s sharp voice was barely veiled.

  “Understood, Mistress.”

  The warehouse district was deserted. At regular intervals, policemen patrolled the area with guard dogs.

  The four packers hid inside a large building where sledges used to haul heavy goods were stored. After a meal of beer and fresh bread, they slept in shifts.

  When the night was darkest, Dame Cheris’s imperious whisper sounded.

  “Come on.”

  She had pulled the wooden bolts and broken the dried-mud seals barring entry to the building where her husband supposedly stored copper for use in temple workshops. Without asking questions, the packers removed a hundred jars of top-quality wine, four hundred fifty lengths of finest linen, six hundred pairs of leather sandals, a number of disassembled chariots, thirteen small chunks of iron ore, three hundred rolls of wool, and a hundred alabaster cups.

  Just as the packers were loading the last of the contraband, Setau popped out of a dark corner where he had been watching the drama unfold.

  “Nice try, Dame Cheris,” he said coolly. “You’ve put back everything that you and your husband stole from the government. Nice try, but it’s too late.”

  The small dark woman kept her head. “What are you demanding in exchange for your silence?”

  “The names of your fences. We want to know who’s redistributing temple goods.”

  “It’s not important.”

  “Talk, Dame Cheris.”

  “You won’t take a cut?”

  “It’s not my style.”

  “Too bad you’re all alone, and I have four helpers.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ve brought a partner.”

  Lotus was suddenly framed in the warehouse doorway. Bare-breasted, a brief papyrus kilt covering her slim hips, she held a reed basket with a leather lid.

  Dame Cheris felt like laughing. “Some help she’ll be!” she said acidly.

  “Call off your henchmen,” Setau said calmly.

  “Seize these two,” Dame Cheris curtly told the burly packers.

  Lotus set the basket down and opened it. Out slithered four highly excited puff adders, easily identified by the three blue and green bands on their necks. Their exhalation produced a terrifying hiss.

  Scrambling over the bolts of cloth, the four packers made a hasty getaway.

  The vipers surrounded Dame Cheris, who was looking green herself.

  “You’d better talk,” advised Setau. “The venom from these snakes is highly toxic. It might not kill you, but the internal damage would be irreversible.”

  “I’ll tell you everything,” promised the small brunette.

  “Whose idea was it to misappropriate temple property?”

  “My . . . my husband’s.”

  “Is that the whole truth?”

  “All right. My husband’s and mine.”

  “How long has this been going on?”

  “A little over two years. If this new sed-feast hadn’t come up with all its special demands, no one would ever have noticed.”

  “You must have had to pay off the temple scribes.”

  “Nothing that complicated. My husband kept two sets of books, we sold the goods in lots of varying sizes, according to how things came in. The shipment I was just preparing was quite a large one.”

  “Who’s your buyer?”

  “A merchant captain.”

  “His name?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Describe him, then.”

  “Tall, bearded, brown eyes, a scar on his left forearm.”

  “Is he the one who pays you?”

  “Yes, with gemstones and a little gold.”

  “When were you due to make the transfer?”

  “The day after tomorrow.”

  “Well then,” concluded Setau with a grin, “we’ll have the pleasure of making his acquaintance.”

  The barge made its landing after an uneventful day on the river. It was hauling huge terra-cotta jars that kept drinking water fresh for an entire year, thanks to a trade secret known only to middle Egypt’s potters. But on this barge the jars were empty, for the captain would be using them to stash the contraband he received from Dame Cheris.

  The captain had made his career in the merchant marine, and his fellow officers considered him highly professional. No serious accident to mar his record, no mutinous crews, a reputation for on-time deliveries . . . But he kept a string of mistresses, and his expenses had grown much faster than his income. After some hesitation, he had agreed to move stolen goods. His share of the traffic allowed him to live on the grand scale he craved.

  Dame Cheris was as well organized as he was. As usual, the cargo would be ready and waiting, the transfer from warehouse to barge would be swift and smooth. No one would take any notice, especially since the crates and baskets were labeled as foodstuffs.

  Before the goods were loaded, however, he would be subjected to stiff negotiations. He was squeezed between Cheris’s escalating demands and his client’s attempts to pay less each time. The discussions could take hours, but eventually they would come to terms.

  The captain headed for Cheris’s official residence. According to their agreement, she waved to him from her balcony, the all-clear signal.

  The captain strode through the courtyard and entered a salon with two blue-painted columns and padded benches along the walls.

  Dame Cheris’s light footsteps sounded on the stairs. Following her was a gorgeous Nubian woman.

  “But . . . who’s this with you?”

  “Don’t turn around, Captain,” said Setau’s husky voice. “There’s a cobra at your back.”

  “It’s true,” confirmed Dame Cheris.

  “Who the hell are you?” asked the captain.

  “The Pharaoh’s deputy. My mission is to put a stop to your illegal dealings. But I also need to find out who your boss is.”

  The old sailor felt trapped in a nightmare. His world was crashing down around him.

  “Tell me who’s in charge,” insisted Setau.

  The captain knew what consequences were facing him. He’d bring the ringleader down as well.

  “I only met him once.”

  “Did you know his name?”

  “Yes . . . He’s called Ahmeni.”

  Dumbfounded, Setau took a few steps and halted in front of the captain.

  “Describe him!”

  Finally the captain got a good look at his inquisitor. He’d bet this deputy was the only snake around! Convinced that the reptile was an invention, he turned and bolted.

  The snake uncoiled and bit him in the neck. The pain and shock sent the captain tumbling to the ground in a heap.

  Her way now clear, Dame Cheris ran into the courtyard.

  “No!” yelled Lotus as the second cobra, a female, struck the pretty little woman in the back as she ran through her doorway. Breathless, her heart in a vise, Dame Cheris crawled a short d
istance, clawing the ground, then went still. The reptile went slinking back to its mate.

  “There’s no way to save them,” said Lotus regretfully.

  “They robbed their country,” Setau reminded her. “And they’ll be judged harshly in the afterworld.”

  Setau sat down, head in his hands. “But Ahmeni mixed up in this business? I can’t believe it.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  Emperor Hattusili’s latest letter was a masterpiece of diplomacy. Ramses had read it carefully a good ten times and still couldn’t tell what Hattusili was saying. Did he want war or peace? Would he still have his daughter marry Ramses, or was he cloaked in outraged dignity?

  “What do you make of this, Ahmeni?”

  The king’s official sandal-bearer and private secretary looked thinner than ever, despite the quantities of food he consumed throughout the day. After an in-depth consultation, Neferet the chief physician had given Ahmeni a clean bill of health but advised him to reduce his workload.

  “We need Ahsha here. He would have known what to make of this convoluted prose.”

  “But what do you think?”

  “Although I’m usually inclined to be pessimistic, I have the feeling that Hattusili is giving you an opening. Your sed-feast begins tomorrow; magic will give you the final answer.”

  “I’ll be glad to spend some time with the assembled gods and goddesses.”

  “Kha has done a magnificent job,” appraised Ahmeni. “Everything will be in place. Have you heard how Setau caught the thieves that were skimming temple goods? The recovered items are already in Pi-Ramses.”

  “And the culprits?”

  “They met an accidental death. The case will be submitted to the vizier’s tribunal, with a probable sentence of obliteration of the guilty parties’ names.”

  “I’m retiring now until dawn.”

  “May your ka be with you, Majesty, so that your light may shine upon Egypt.”

  At summer’s end, the night was clear and warm. Like most of his compatriots, Ramses had decided to sleep beneath the stars, on the terraced roof of the palace. Lying on a simple reed mat, he contemplated the sky, where the souls of pharaohs who had passed into light now sparkled. The axis of the universe passed through the pole star; the immortals clustered around it, beyond time and space. Since the era of the pyramids, the wisdom of the sages had been written in the sky.