Ramses, Volume II

by Christian Jacq

  Moses had made no secret of the fact that at Pi-Ramses the pace would be more intense than usual, but promised bonuses in compensation. Many a Hebrew would prosper here, providing they spared no effort. Under normal conditions, three workmen could produce eight to nine hundred small bricks a day. At Pi-Ramses, they would have to manufacture different sizes: larger bricks for foundations, then a multitude of smaller ones. Usually foremen and stonemasons were responsible for the foundations.

  By the end of the first day, the Hebrews realized that Moses would be as harsh a taskmaster as he had promised. Any hope of spending their afternoons asleep in the shade of a tree quickly vanished. Like his co-workers, Abner threw himself into his work: mixing mud from the Nile with chopped straw. Finding the right consistency was the trick. Several huge flats had been set aside and trenches dug to a canal for water to moisten the river silt. Then, keeping time to songs, the men worked the mixture with picks and hoes, a technique that resulted in stronger bricks.

  Abner performed his tasks quickly and well. As soon as the mixture felt right to him, he loaded it in a basket, which a laborer hauled to the workshop, where it was poured into a rectangular wooden mold. Unmolding was a delicate operation; occasionally Moses supervised it in person. The bricks were left to dry for some four hours, then stacked and transported to the various work sites, beginning with the best-cured and therefore lightest-colored ones.

  Humble as it was, the well-made mud brick proved to be a remarkably solid building material. Correctly laid, it would last for ages.

  A competitive spirit awakened among the Hebrews. The higher salary and bonuses played a part, of course, but so did their pride in being part of such a colossal undertaking and their determination to rise to the occasion. If their enthusiasm waned, Moses got them fired up again. Thousands of perfect bricks were being produced each day.

  Pi-Ramses was coming to life, springing out of the Pharaoh’s dream to become reality. Foremen and stone cutters, following the king’s plans, laid solid foundations; laborers tirelessly carted load after load of the Hebrews’ bricks.

  Beneath the Delta sun, a city was taking shape.

  At the close of each day, Abner admired Moses more. The Hebrew chief moved from group to group, checking the quality of the food, sending those who were sick or overworked off to rest. Contrary to his expectations, his popularity continued to grow.

  Abner had already earned enough bonus money to build his family a fine new house, right here in the new capital.

  “Pleased with yourself, little friend?”

  Sary’s hollow face wore an evil grin.

  “What do you want with me?”

  “I’m your foreman. Have you forgotten that?”

  “I do my job.”

  “Not for long.”

  “What?”

  “Your bricks are below the standard.”

  “That can’t be!”

  “Two building foremen found bad bricks in the loads you sent them. They’ve written you up. If I turn it in to Moses, you’ll be fired, maybe even put in jail.”

  “What’s this all about? Why are you lying?”

  “You have one alternative: buying my silence. Hand your pay over to me and the report will disappear.”

  “You’re a jackal, Sary!”

  “You have no choice, Abner.”

  “Why do you hate me so?”

  “You’re a Hebrew, one among many. Let’s say you’re paying for all the rest.”

  “You have no right!”

  “I need an answer. Now.”

  Abner hung his head. Sary had beaten him again.

  FORTY

  In Memphis, Ofir felt more at ease than he had in Thebes. The northern capital was home to many foreigners, who seemed for the most part to fit in perfectly. Some adhered to Akhenaton’s doctrine. The sorcerer revived their flagging faith, promising that it would bring them happiness and prosperity in the near future.

  Those who were privileged to see Lita, silent as ever, were greatly impressed. None of them doubted that royal blood flowed in her veins, nor that she was the ill-fated pharaoh’s rightful heir. The sorcerer’s patient, well-reasoned arguments for the existence of a single god worked wonders, and Dolora’s Memphis villa was the setting for productive meetings that netted a daily increase in the number of believers.

  Ofir was not the first foreigner to propagate original ideas, but he was the only one to revive the heresy quashed by Akhenaton’s successors. His capital and burial place had been abandoned, no person of rank had been entombed nearby in the necropolis. It was generally conceded that Ramses, after bringing Karnak under his control, would stand for no religious troubles. Therefore, Ofir took care to be sparing in his criticism of the king and his policies, which might invite disapproval.

  The sorcerer was finally getting somewhere.

  Dolora brought him a drink of cool carob juice.

  “You seem tired, Ofir.”

  “Our work demands a constant effort. How is your husband doing on his project?”

  “He’s very unhappy. According to his last letter, he spends his days scolding lazy, dishonest Hebrews.”

  “I’ve heard the work is going very quickly, though.”

  “Everyone says it will be splendid.”

  “But dedicated to Set, the evil lord of the powers of darkness! Ramses wants to snuff out the light, hide the sun. We have to stop him.”

  “I’m convinced of it, Ofir.”

  “Your support is essential, as you know. Will you consent to let me use every means at my disposal to keep the Pharaoh from destroying Egypt?”

  The tall, languid woman bit her lips. “Ramses is my brother!”

  Ofir gently took Dolora’s hands.

  “He’s already done us so much harm. Of course, I’ll abide by your decision, but why wait any longer? Ramses isn’t waiting for anything! And the further he goes, the stronger his magical defenses become. I’m not sure I’ll be able to break through them if we stall.”

  “It’s such a big step . . .”

  So Dolora was still unwilling to attack her brother. Ofir let go of her hands.

  “There may be another way.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  “Queen Nefertari is rumored to be pregnant.”

  “It’s no rumor. She’s already showing.”

  “Have you any affection for her?”

  “Not in the least.”

  “I’ll ask one of my compatriots to bring what I need tonight.”

  “I’ll stay in my room!” cried Dolora, retreating hastily.

  The man arrived in the middle of the night. The house was quiet; Dolora and Lita slept. Ofir opened the door to the merchant, took the sack from him, and paid with two linen sheets Dolora had donated.

  The transaction took only a few moments.

  Ofir shut himself up in a small room to which he had blocked all the openings. A single oil lamp gave off a dim light.

  On a low table, the sorcerer laid out the contents of the bundle: a statuette of an ape, an ivory hand, a crude figurine of a naked woman, a miniature pillar, and another figurine of a woman, this one holding snakes in her hands. The ape would supply him with the technique of the god Thoth. The hand was for action. The naked woman gave him power over the queen’s reproductive organs. The pillar represented the lasting effect of his spell. The snake woman would poison Nefertari’s body with black magic.

  Ofir’s task would not be easy. The queen possessed great personal strength, and, like her husband, had been endowed with protective forces at the time of her coronation. But pregnancy weakened those defenses. The new life inside her sapped Nefertari’s own life force.

  It would take at least three days and nights for the spell to take hold. Ofir was slightly disappointed not to be attacking Ramses directly, but without his sister’s consent that would be impossible. When he had Dolora completely in his sway, he would try again. For now, he could begin to weaken the enemy.

  Leaving the d
aily business of governing in the hands of Ahmeni and his cabinet members, Ramses made frequent visits to Pi-Ramses. Thanks to Moses’ leadership and organization, as well as a strict schedule, the work was progressing by leaps and bounds.

  The atmosphere was upbeat. The men were happy with the quality and quantity of their rations. On top of that, generous bonuses were paid as promised, on the merit system. The hardest workers would make a tidy bundle and be able to set themselves up either in the new capital or another town, perhaps even buy a plot of land. There was also a well-equipped infirmary to care for the sick and injured. Unlike other construction sites, Pi-Ramses was not plagued with workers feigning illness in order to go on leave.

  The king was safety-conscious; several foremen were permanently assigned to site security. All but a few minor injuries had been avoided when the temple of Amon’s granite blocks were set in place. Thanks to a scrupulously observed rotation of work gangs, the men never reached the point of exhaustion. Two days off every six days allowed them to rest and recuperate.

  Moses alone drove himself relentlessly. He rechecked all work, resolved conflicts, made urgent decisions, reorganized substandard work crews, reordered materials and supplies, wrote reports, slept an hour after lunch and three hours each night. Their leader’s energy impressed the Hebrew brickworkers so deeply that they toed the line for him. No supervisor in their experience had ever defended their interests as he did.

  Abner could have spoken to Moses about Sary’s extortion, but he was afraid of how his foreman might retaliate, given his strong police connections. Labeled as a troublemaker, Abner would be deported and never see his wife and children again. Once he’d started receiving payments, the foreman had stopped harassing him and been almost pleasant. It seemed the worst was over. The Hebrew walled himself in silence and molded his bricks with the usual care and speed.

  That morning, Ramses was touring the work site. As soon as his visit had been announced, the Hebrews washed, trimmed their beards and mustaches, tied fresh white bands around their best wigs, and lined up their bricks in perfect order.

  The first chariot that stopped in front of the brickyard discharged a glowering giant with sword and shield in hand. Was one of the workers about to be disciplined? The presence of twenty archers did little to lighten the mood.

  Serramanna filed stonily down the tense and motionless rows of Hebrew brickmakers. When they had passed inspection, the Sard signaled one of the soldiers to let the royal chariot advance.

  The brickmakers bowed to Pharaoh, who called them by name, congratulating them on their work. Cheers greeted his announcement that new wigs and white Delta wine were to be distributed; but what touched the men most deeply was the attention the king paid to the freshly molded bricks. He picked up several at random, weighing them in his hands.

  “Perfect,” he declared. “Double rations for a week and an extra day off. Where is your foreman?”

  Sary stepped forward.

  Ramses’ old teacher was the only one not especially eager to see the monarch. If Sary had never plotted against Ramses, he might still be head of the royal academy and a court insider.

  “Satisfied with your new assignment, Sary?”

  “I thank Your Majesty for granting me the privilege.”

  “If my mother and Nefertari hadn’t interceded, your punishment would have been much stiffer, believe me.”

  “I’m aware of that, Majesty, and hope my new attitude will convince you to forgive my past transgressions.”

  “They’re unforgivable, Sary.”

  “The remorse I suffer weighs on my heart.”

  “It can’t weigh too heavily; it’s been quite some time, and you’re still around.”

  “Is it too much to hope for Your Majesty’s pardon?”

  “I don’t hold with that notion, Sary. There’s no way around the law of Ma’at. You’ve flouted it, and your soul is forever stained. Make sure you cause Moses no trouble. This is the last chance I’m giving you.”

  “I swear to Your Majesty that—”

  “Enough said, Sary. Be glad of the chance to take part in creating Pi-Ramses.”

  When the king climbed back in his chariot, cheers rose again, even louder this time. Reluctantly, Sary chimed in.

  FORTY-ONE

  A planned, construction proceeded more slowly on the temples than on secular edifices. Nevertheless, immediate shipments of granite began, and expert stone haulers, including a number of Hebrews, made regular deliveries to the work site.

  Thanks to the brickmakers’ industriousness, the royal palace rose quickly from its stone foundation, already dominating the center of the capital. Shipping was under way, the warehouses were open, carpenters were turning out fine furniture, ceramic tile was being mass-produced. Villas seemed to pop up overnight, neighborhoods grew, the barracks would soon be ready to house their first troops.

  “The palace lake will be splendid,” announced Moses. “It ought to be dug by the middle of next month. Your capital is going to be beautiful, Ramses. It’s built with love.”

  “You can take credit for that, Moses.”

  “All I’ve done is execute your plans.”

  The king detected a slight reproach in his friend’s tone of voice. Just as he was about to ask why, a courier from Memphis galloped up. Serramanna made him stop at a respectable distance. The messenger jumped down and approached his sovereign, panting.

  “Your Majesty’s presence is urgently requested in Memphis. The queen has been taken ill.”

  Ramses collided with Dr. Pariamaku, chief of the palace medical staff, a learned and commanding man of fifty with long, expressive hands. An experienced surgeon, he had a reputation as an excellent doctor, though strict with his patients.

  “I want to see the queen,” demanded Ramses.

  “The queen is sleeping, Majesty. The nurses applied a massage oil mixed with a sleeping draft.”

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  “There are signs of a premature delivery.”

  “Isn’t that dangerous?”

  “Very high-risk, I’m afraid.”

  “I order you to save Nefertari.”

  “I still predict a favorable outcome.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “My staff performed the usual tests, Your Majesty, placing barley and wheat in two cloth sacks that were sprinkled with the queen’s urine for several days in a row. Both grains sprouted, indicating she will give birth successfully. Since the wheat sprouted first, she will have a girl.”

  “I’ve heard the opposite.”

  Dr. Pariamaku gave him an icy stare. “Your Majesty must be referring to another technique, in which the grains are covered with soil. In any case, we must hope that the seed of your heart, implanted in the queen’s heart, is firmly fixed in the infant’s skeletal system. High-quality sperm gives a straight spine and excellent bone marrow. Need I remind you that the bones and tendons come from the father, the flesh and blood from the mother?”

  The doctor was rather pleased with his lecture. And such an illustrious student!

  “Need I remind you that I studied anatomy and physiology at the royal academy, Doctor?”

  “Of course not, Majesty.”

  “Nothing led you to expect complications?”

  “My learning has certain limits, Majesty . . .”

  “My power has none, Doctor. I demand a safe delivery.”

  “Majesty . . .”

  “Yes, Doctor?”

  “Your own health must be closely monitored. I have not yet had the honor of examining you, which is among my foremost responsibilities.”

  “No need. I’ve never been sick a day in my life. Call me the moment the queen wakes up.”

  The sun was low in the sky when Serramanna granted Dr. Pariamaku entry into the king’s office.

  The distinguished physician was ill at ease.

  “The queen has awakened, Majesty.”

  Ramses rose.

  “However
. . .”

  “Out with it, Doctor!”

  Pariamaku, who had boasted that he would be able to handle Ramses, was beginning to miss Seti, taciturn and uncooperative as the late king had been. Ramses was like a raging storm—best to stay out of his way.

  “The queen has just been taken to the delivery room.”

  “I demanded to see her immediately!”

  “The midwives decided there wasn’t a second to lose.”

  Ramses snapped the reed pen in his hand. If Nefertari died, would he have the strength to go on?

  Six midwives from the House of Life, wearing long tunics and turquoise necklaces, helped Nefertari to the delivery room, an airy, flower-filled pavilion. Like all Egyptian women, the queen would give birth naked, straight-backed, squatting over stones with a bed of reeds on top of them. This symbolized each newborn’s destiny, its life span determined by Thoth.

  The first midwife would support the queen from behind, the second would ease her through each stage of labor, the third would catch the baby, the fourth would attend it, the fifth was the wet nurse, and the sixth would hold two ankh amulets—the “key of life”—for the queen until the infant’s first cry was heard. Though aware of the dangers facing them, the six women moved serenely.

  After thoroughly massaging Nefertari, the head midwife had applied poultices over her lower abdomen. Judging it necessary to hasten what promised to be a painful labor, she inserted a paste of turpentine resin, onion, milk, fennel, and salt into the vagina. To ease the labor pains, she prepared dried earth to be mixed with warm oil and rubbed on the genital area.