Ramses, Volume II

by Christian Jacq

  “Stay on my left,” he ordered his lieutenant. If the hairy giant gave the order to shoot, the chief would be protected by a human shield.

  “Are you afraid?” asked Ramses.

  The two Nubians broke away from the war party and walked toward the king and his sandal-bearer, coming to a halt only ten paces in front of them.

  “So you’re the Pharaoh who oppresses my people.”

  “Nubians and Egyptians live in harmony. You broke that peace when you killed the members of the convoy and stole the gold being shipped to our temples.”

  “The gold is ours, not yours. You’re the one who’s a thief.”

  “Nubia is an Egyptian province, subject to the law of Ma’at. Murder and robbery must be severely punished.”

  “Your laws mean nothing to me, Pharaoh. I make my own. Other tribes are prepared to join us. Killing you will make me a hero! Every warrior in Nubia will be at my command, and we’ll rid our country of Egyptians once and for all!”

  “Kneel down,” ordered the king.

  The chief and his lieutenant looked at each other, bewildered.

  “Lay down your arms, kneel, and submit to the law.”

  The chief leered at him. “If I bow to you, will you grant me your pardon?”

  “You’ve placed yourself outside the law. To pardon you would also go against it.”

  “You show me no mercy.”

  “I know none.”

  “Why should I bow to you?”

  “Because it’s the only freedom permitted you as an outlaw.”

  The lieutenant jumped in front of his chief, waving the dagger.

  “Let Pharaoh’s death set us free, then!”

  Setau, who hadn’t taken his eyes off the two men, opened the sack at his waist, releasing a sand viper. Slithering with deadly speed, it bit the Nubian’s foot before he could spear it.

  Crying out, he bent over to slash the bite with his dagger and let out the poison.

  “He’s already colder than water and hotter than flame,” intoned Setau, looking the chief straight in the eyes. “He’s sweating, his eyes are glazing over, he’s starting to drool. Now his eyes and eyelids are stiffening, his face is swelling, his throat is burning. He’s about to die. He can’t get up, his skin is turning purple, his whole body is shaking.”

  Setau held up his sack full of vipers. The Nubian war party backed away.

  “Kneel,” Pharaoh ordered once more. “Or prepare to die an awful death.”

  “You’re the one who’s going to die!”

  The chief held his spear over his head, then froze as a terrible roaring filled his ears. Turning, he barely caught a glimpse of the lion’s mane and gaping jaws before it clawed his chest open and snapped his neck with its jaws.

  At a signal from Serramanna, the Egyptian bowmen fired at the scattering Nubians. The foot soldiers advanced and disarmed the war party.

  “Tie their hands behind their backs!” shouted the Sard.

  As news of Ramses’ victory spread, hundreds of Nubians left their hideouts and villages to pay him homage. The king gave a white-haired tribal chief the use of the newly created fertile zone around the water hole. He was also put in charge of the prisoners of war, who were to do farmwork under police supervision. Escapees and repeat offenders would get the death penalty.

  Then the Egyptian forces marched to the oasis, which had served as the rebel stronghold. Meeting only feeble resistance, they took possession of the gold that would one day grace statues and temple doors in the motherland.

  At nightfall, Setau found two lengths of palm rib for kindling, held them between his knees, set a piece of dead wood between them, and twirled until sparks flew. The soldiers on watch would have a fire to keep away cobras, hyenas, and other pests.

  “Have you collected more snakes?” asked Ramses.

  He nodded. “Lotus is glad we came here. We’ve found enough now; tonight we’ll rest.”

  “It’s a wonderful country.”

  “You seem to like it as much as we do.”

  “It tests me and takes me beyond myself. Its power is mine.”

  “Without my viper, the rebels would have killed you.”

  “But they didn’t, did they?”

  “It was still a risky plan.”

  “It spared a great deal of bloodshed.”

  “Do you ever consider being more cautious?”

  “What for?”

  “I’m only Setau the snake charmer. It’s all right if I fool around with reptiles. But you, Ramses, are Lord of the Two Lands. Your death would plunge Egypt into disarray.”

  “Nefertari could run the country.”

  “You’re only twenty-five, Ramses, but you can’t act so young anymore. You’ll have to send others into battle.”

  “Pharaoh can’t be seen as a coward.”

  “No; just don’t overdo it. I’m only telling you to be a bit more careful.”

  “But I have the best protection: Nefertari’s magic, you and your snakes, Serramanna and his royal bodyguard, Watcher and Fighter . . . I’m the luckiest man on earth.”

  “Save your luck for when you need it.”

  “I’ll never run out.”

  “Pig-headed as ever, I see. I might as well go to bed.”

  Setau turned his back on the king and stretched out beside Lotus. Her contented sigh convinced Ramses to slip away. His friend might not get to rest for long.

  How could he make Setau realize his real place was high in the government? Ramses’ failure to recruit him was his first major setback. Should Setau be free to go his own way or be forced into an official position?

  Ramses spent the night gazing at the starry sky, his father’s new home, where he dwelt with the souls of all the departed pharaohs. He thought about his accomplishments: finding water in the desert, putting down the rebellion, just as his father had done. It made him feel proud, but he was far from content with his victory. The earlier campaign had not had lasting results. This time would be the same. He would have to get to the root of the problem, but how could he determine what it was?

  In the first light of dawn, Ramses sensed a presence at his back and slowly, very slowly, turned around.

  There stood an enormous elephant. It had crept into the oasis, stepping nimbly around the dried palm ribs strewn all around. The lion and watchdog had opened their eyes but sounded no warning, as if they did not sense a threat to their master.

  The big bull elephant with flapping ears and long tusks was his friend. Years earlier, Ramses had saved him, removing a spearhead from the tender trunk.

  The King of Egypt stroked that trunk now, and the lord of the savannahs trumpeted in joy, waking the whole encampment.

  The elephant sauntered away, covering a hundred paces in a few long strides, then turned to look back at the king.

  “He’s telling us to follow,” said Ramses.

  FIFTY-THREE

  Ramses, Serramanna, Setau, and a handful of veteran soldiers followed the elephant across a strip of arid plain, then up a thorny slope to a plateau topped with a venerable acacia tree.

  The elephant waited for Ramses to catch up. Following the huge beast’s gaze, he discovered a splendid view. The oversized spur of rock where they stood, a landmark for navigation, looked down on a vast bend in the Nile. Ramses, mystical spouse of Egypt, contemplated the life-giving waters, the divine river in all its majesty. On the nearby rocks, hieroglyphic inscriptions dedicated the spot to the goddess Hathor, queen of the stars and patroness of sailors, who often stopped here.

  With its right front foot, the elephant sent a boulder tumbling down the cliff. It landed in a sandy coulee between two promontories. To the north, the cliffs were vertical, almost straight down to the water. To the south, they sloped gradually into a vast open stretch, broadening westward.

  On the shore below, a boat hollowed out of a palm trunk was moored, with a boy sleeping inside.

  “Go get him,” the king ordered two of his soldiers.

&nb
sp; The boy saw them coming and took to his heels. He would have gotten away if he hadn’t tripped on a rock and sprawled on the riverbank. The Egyptian soldiers twisted the young Nubian’s arms and brought him before the king.

  The runaway’s eyes darted in fear. Were they going to cut off his nose? “I’m not a thief,” he cried. “The boat belongs to me, I swear it, and—”

  “Answer my question,” Ramses told him, “and you’ll go free. What do they call this place?”

  “Abu Simbel.”

  “You may go.”

  The boy ran back to his dugout and paddled away with all his might.

  “We can’t stay here long,” advised Serramanna. “I don’t think this spot is secure.”

  “No sign of any snakes,” complained Setau. “Bizarre. Could Hathor have driven them off?”

  “Don’t follow me,” the king commanded.

  Serramanna stepped forward. “Majesty!”

  “Don’t make me say it twice.”

  Ramses began the descent toward the river. Setau restrained the Sard.

  “You’d better do as he says.”

  Serramanna reluctantly gave in. The king on his own, in the middle of nowhere, in hostile territory! No matter what Ramses said, he would remain on guard.

  Reaching the riverbank, Ramses turned to face the sandstone cliff.

  Here was the unknown heart of Nubia. And he, the Son of Light, would need to reveal it, make of Abu Simbel a wonder outlasting the centuries and sealing the pact between Egypt and Nubia.

  The Pharaoh spent several hours in meditation, immersing himself in the spirit of Abu Simbel: clear sky, sparkling water, hard rock. The province’s main temple would be built here, concentrating divine energy and radiating a protective force field so strong that the clash of arms would be forever stilled.

  Ramses observed the sun. Its rays did not merely glance off the cliff, but penetrated to the heart of the rock, lighting it from inside. He would tell his architects to capture this miracle.

  By the time the king climbed back to the top of the cliff, Serramanna’s nerves were stretched to the limit. He was tempted to quit for good, but the elephant’s placid attitude changed his mind. He refused to appear less patient than an animal, even the most majestic of animals.

  “We’re going back to Egypt,” decreed the king.

  After cleansing his mouth with natron, Shaanar surrendered his face to the barber, who was also skilled in the painless removal of body hair. Ramses’ older brother was extremely fond of massages. He particularly liked having his scalp rubbed with perfumed oils before the hairdresser came to do his wig. These small pleasures lightened his days and helped him present his best face to the world. He might not be as handsome or athletic as Ramses, but he could be just as well groomed, if not more so.

  His clepsydra, a costly water clock, told him the hour was drawing near for his appointment.

  His litter, comfortable and roomy, was the finest in Memphis except for the Pharaoh’s, which he one day planned to occupy. Shaanar had the bearers drop him off at the canal that gave heavy barges passage into the main river landing.

  Ofir the sorcerer sat in the shade of a willow tree. Shaanar leaned against the trunk and watched a fishing boat go by.

  “Any progress, Ofir?”

  “Moses is an exceptional man, with a mind of his own.”

  “In other words, you can’t convince him.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “I need facts, Ofir. Vague impressions won’t do.”

  “The road to success is a long and winding one.”

  “Spare me the philosophy. Have you signed him on, or haven’t you?”

  “He listened. It’s a beginning.”

  “Interesting, I admit. Did he indicate any approval?”

  “Moses is familiar with Akhenaton’s ideas. He knows they’ve contributed to the Hebrew faith and that a collaboration could be fruitful.”

  “And the Hebrews will follow him?”

  “He’s more popular than ever. Moses is a born leader. Once Pi-Ramses is finished, he’ll rally his people.”

  “How long will that be?”

  “A few more months. He has the brickmakers working at lightning speed.”

  “Ramses and his capital! His fame will spread beyond the northern border, I’m afraid.”

  “Where is the Pharaoh now?”

  “In Nubia.”

  “A dangerous place.”

  “Don’t fool yourself, Ofir. The royal couriers have relayed excellent reports. More miracles for Ramses: he found a spring in the desert, opened up new farmland. He’s bringing back the gold for the temples. A successful expedition, an exemplary victory.”

  “Moses knows that he’ll have to confront the Pharaoh.”

  “His closest friend . . .”

  “His belief in the One God will lead him to it. And our support will be crucial.”

  “That’s your role, Ofir. You understand why I have to remain in the background.”

  “I’ll need your help.”

  “In what form?”

  “A place in Memphis, servants, a communication network.”

  “Granted, on the condition that you submit regular reports on your activities.”

  “Confidential reports.”

  “When are you going back to Pi-Ramses, Ofir?”

  “Tomorrow. I plan to tell Moses how our numbers are growing.”

  “I’ll take care of your material concerns; you focus all your attention on convincing Moses to fight for his faith, against Ramses’ tyranny.”

  Abner the brickmaker hummed to himself. In less than a month, the first Pi-Ramses barracks would be finished and the initial detachment of foot soldiers transferred from Memphis. The premises were spacious and well ventilated, the fittings remarkable.

  Thanks to Moses, Abner now headed a small crew of his fellow craftsmen, experienced and industrious as himself. Sary’s extortion was only a bad memory. Abner would move his family to the new capital and work in public building maintenance. The future was looking bright.

  Tonight he would enjoy a meal of Nile perch with his comrades. Then they would play a game of snake, advancing their pieces along the serpent’s back while avoiding various pitfalls. Abner had a feeling it was his lucky night.

  Pi-Ramses was changing. The construction site was gradually turning into a real city. It didn’t seem long now until the dedication, the moment when Pharaoh would bring his capital to life. It had been his special privilege, Abner reflected, to serve a great king’s vision and work with Moses.

  “How are you, Abner?”

  Sary wore a Libyan tunic with wide vertical stripes of black and yellow, cinched at the waist with a green leather belt. His face had grown even more emaciated.

  “What do you want with me?”

  “Asking after your health, that’s all.”

  “Move along.”

  “Is that any way to talk to me?”

  “I think you’ve forgotten I was promoted. I don’t report to you anymore.”

  “Proud as a peacock, aren’t we, Abner? Easy, now.”

  “I’m busy this evening.”

  “What could be more urgent than old friends?”

  The Hebrew was growing uneasy, to Sary’s amusement. “You’re a reasonable fellow, Abner. You want a nice little life for yourself, but you know that everything has a price. And I’m the one who sets it.”

  “Buzz off!”

  “That’s right, Hebrew. You’re an insect. Bugs don’t complain when you squash them. I expect half of your wages and bonuses. When the work is done here, you’ll volunteer to stay on as my servant. Mmm, I’ll enjoy having a Hebrew houseboy. I’ll keep you busy, don’t worry. You’re lucky, Abner. If I hadn’t noticed you, you’d end up as vermin.”

  “You can’t make me, I tell you, I—”

  “Stop babbling and do as I say,” the foreman snarled in parting.

  Abner crouched in a corner, hanging his head. This time Sary
had gone too far. This time he’d speak to Moses.

  FIFTY-FOUR

  Peerless Nefertari, her beauty like the morning star at the dawn of a good year, her touch like a lotus flower. Luminous Nefertari, catching him in the dark loops of her fragrant hair.

  To love her was to be reborn.

  Ramses gently massaged her feet, then kissed her legs, letting his hands wander over her lithe, tanned body. She was the garden where the rarest flowers grew, the pool of clear water, the distant country of frankincense trees. When they came together, their desire was strong as the surge of a cresting river, tender as a woodwind tune in the twilight.

  As soon as the expedition returned from Nubia, the king had gone straight to his wife, ignoring well-wishers and advisers. Nefertari and Ramses had celebrated their reunion beneath the verdant foliage of a sycamore. The refreshing shade of the great tree, its turquoise leaves and notched fruit red as jasper, were one of the treasures of the palace at Thebes where they had managed to slip away.

  “You were gone forever . . .”

  “The baby?”

  “Kha and Meritamon are both doing wonderfully. Your son thinks his little sister is very pretty but a little noisy. He’s already trying to teach her to read. His tutor made him stop.”

  Ramses held his wife closer. “That’s a mistake. Why hold him back?”

  Before Nefertari could answer, her husband’s lips sought hers as the sycamore branches bent discreetly over them in the cool north wind.

  Bakhen, carrying a long staff, marched in front of the royal pair. It was the tenth day of the fourth month of the inundation season, Year Three of Ramses’ reign, and he was leading them to inspect the newly completed additions to the temple of Luxor. A long procession followed them down the avenue of sphinxes leading from the temple of Karnak.

  The new facade of Karnak imposed silence. The two obelisks, the colossal royal statues, and the massive yet elegant pylon gateway formed a composition worthy of the greatest builders of old.

  The obelisks repelled negative energy and attracted divine power to the temple, where it would nourish the ka produced here. At the bottom were dog-faced baboons, symbols of the god Thoth’s intelligence, uttering the sounds that helped bring forth each new dawn. Each element, from hieroglyph to colossal statue, contributed to the daily rebirth of the sun, which now sat in glory above the twin towers of the pylon and central doorway.