Ramses, Volume IV

by Christian Jacq

  Suddenly she paused and began to rock like a sinking boat. Benteshina gripped her neck for dear life.

  “Your Highness, wake up! Wake up!”

  Opening his eyes, the prince discovered he was in the act of strangling his majordomo. The first light of dawn filtered into the bedroom.

  “Why are you disturbing me so early?”

  “Get up, I beg of you, and look out the window.”

  Reluctantly, Benteshina followed his servant’s suggestion. His flabby bulk meant he moved slowly.

  Not a hint of mist on the sea: the day would turn out to be beautiful.

  “What is there to see?”

  “Look at the entrance to the harbor, Your Highness.”

  Benteshina rubbed his eyes. Three Egyptian warships stood there, forming a blockade.

  “The overland routes?”

  “They’re closed off, too. A huge Egyptian army has us surrounded! The city is under siege, My Lord.”

  “What shape is Ahsha in?” asked Benteshina.

  The majordomo hung his head. “On your orders, they threw him in the dungeon.”

  “Bring him to me.”

  Ramses always fed his horses himself. Victory in Thebes and the Goddess Mut Is Satisfied, as the two superb mounts were called, were inseparable in peacetime as well as in battle. Both the mare and the stallion welcomed the king’s caresses and would whinny proudly whenever he praised their courage. They were not in the least afraid of Fighter, the Nubian lion, their stalwart companion in facing down thousands of Hittite soldiers.

  The Ra division general bowed to the king.

  “Your Majesty, our troops have been deployed as you ordered. Not one inhabitant can escape from Beirut. We’re ready to attack.”

  “Intercept all the caravans that were heading into the city.”

  “Shall we plan on a siege?”

  “Possibly. If Ahsha is still alive, we’ll free him.”

  “That is our hope, Your Majesty, but can the life of just one man be worth it?”

  “The life of just one man is sometimes very precious, General.”

  Ramses spent the remainder of the morning with the horses and his lion. Their calmness seemed like a favorable omen, and indeed, before the sun had reached its highest point, the aide-de-camp arrived with the message the king had been expecting.

  “The Prince of Amurru requests an audience, Your Majesty.”

  Dressed in an ample robe of multicolored silk that concealed his paunch, wearing his favorite scent, attar of roses, Benteshina appeared relaxed and smiling.

  “Hail, Son of Light! Hail . . .”

  “I have no use for a traitor’s flattery.”

  The Prince of Amurru remained unruffled. “Our meeting is intended to be constructive, Your Majesty.”

  “Selling out to the Hittites was a bad choice, Benteshina.”

  “There’s still one point in my favor: I have Ahsha.”

  “Do you think the fact that he’s in one of your dungeons will keep me from razing this city?”

  “I’m certain of it. Aren’t you known the world over for your sense of friendship? Besides, a pharaoh’s disloyalty would offend your gods . . .”

  “Is Ahsha still alive?”

  “He is.”

  “I’ll require proof.”

  “Your erstwhile secretary of state will make an appearance on top of the main palace tower, Your Majesty. Ahsha may be a bit worse for the wear after his stint in the dungeon, I admit. He hasn’t been there long, though, only since an escape attempt.”

  “What are you asking in exchange for his freedom?”

  “I want your pardon. When I release your friend to you, you’ll forgive this slight transgression on my part. You’ll issue a decree stipulating that your trust in me is unwavering. It’s a great deal to ask, I know, but I need to maintain my position and my modest fortune. And of course, if you give in to the misguided notion of holding me prisoner, your friend will be executed.”

  There was a long silence before Ramses replied. “I need to think,” he said calmly.

  Benteshina had only one fear: that Ramses would put statecraft ahead of friendship. The Pharaoh’s hesitation made him tremble.

  “I need time to convince my generals,” explained the king. “Do you think it’s easy to give up a victory and pardon a criminal?”

  Benteshina felt better. “Isn’t ‘criminal’ an overstatement, Your Majesty? Regional alliances are a political balancing act. Since I’m trying to make amends, can’t we forget the past? Egypt represents my future, and I promise to prove my loyalty. If I may, Your Majesty . . .”

  “What now?”

  “The people of Beirut would prefer to avoid a blockade. My subjects and I are used to a certain standard of living, which depends on the regular delivery of food and trade goods. You wouldn’t want your friend Ahsha to starve, now would you?”

  Ramses rose. The meeting had come to an end.

  “Your Majesty, if I may . . . How long do you think you might need to decide?”

  “A few days.”

  “I’m sure we’ll be able to reach an agreement that will be to our mutual advantage.”

  Ramses sat meditating by the sea, his lion curled at his feet. Waves broke in front of him as dolphins leaped playfully in the distance. The wind blew hard from the south.

  Setau sat down at the king’s right hand.

  “I’ve never cared for the sea,” he remarked. “Not enough snakes in it. You can’t even see to the other side.”

  “Benteshina is blackmailing me, Setau.”

  “And you can’t decide between Ahsha and Egypt.”

  “Can you blame me?”

  “I’d only blame you if your choice was easy. But I know which way you have to go, and I can’t say I like it.”

  “Do you have a plan?”

  “Why else would I interrupt the Lord of the Two Lands when he’s deep in thought?”

  “Make sure it’s not dangerous for Ahsha.”

  “That’s more than I can promise.”

  “Is there any chance that your plan will work?”

  “A slight one.”

  Benteshina’s majordomo did his best to satisfy his master’s incessant requests. The Prince of Amurru drank heavily and demanded the finest of vintages. The palace wine cellars were regularly restocked, but it was hard to keep up with the ruler’s constant entertaining. Thus the majordomo kept an eye out for his shipments.

  When the Egyptian troops surrounded Beirut, he had been expecting a caravan with a hundred amphorae of Delta Red. The prince would settle for nothing less.

  To the majordomo’s delight, he saw a procession of wagons laden with wine jars pull into the palace courtyard. The blockade had been lifted at last! Benteshina must have struck a bargain with Ramses!

  The majordomo rushed in front of the lead wagon and shouted his instructions to the driver: part of the shipment should go to the main cellars, part to a storeroom adjacent to the kitchens, the rest to a storage area near the banquet room.

  The unloading began, to the sound of singing and laughter.

  “Shall we have a sample?” the majordomo asked the lead driver. “Just for quality’s sake, of course.”

  “Good idea.”

  The two men ducked into the wine cellar. The majordomo bent over a jar, already tasting its delicious contents. As he was caressing the rounded vessel, a violent blow to the back of the head knocked him cold.

  The lead driver, an officer in Ramses’ army, freed Setau and the other members of the commando from the jars. Armed with light, hollow-backed hatchets with solid lacing around three grips on the handle, they dispatched the Lebanese guards, who were unprepared for an inside attack.

  As a few members of the strike force opened the main gate to the city, letting the Ra division infantry storm through, Setau headed straight for Benteshina’s private quarters in the palace. When two guards attempted to bar the snake charmer’s entry, he pulled a pair of squirming and angry vi
pers from a sack.

  At the sight of the reptiles Setau was brandishing, Benteshina began to tremble.

  “Let Ahsha go, or you’re a dead man.”

  Benteshina didn’t wait to be asked twice. Heaving like a winded ox, he led the way to the room where Ahsha was held prisoner.

  At the sight of his friend, alive and well, Setau momentarily forgot himself. One hand fell open. The viper struck Benteshina like lightning.

  NINE

  Heading gracefully toward fifty, slender, with a fine, straight nose, almond eyes that were huge and sharp, and a determined chin, Queen Mother Tuya remained the guardian of tradition and the conscience of the Kingdom of Egypt. Supervising a sizable staff, she advised without giving orders, yet insisted on respect for the values that had made Egypt’s monarchy great and lasting, forging a link between the visible world and the invisible one.

  Official inscriptions styled her “The God’s Mother, Who Bore Ramses, the Powerful Bull.” In truth, Tuya saw herself as Seti’s widow. Together they had built a strong and serene country that their son must keep happy and prosperous. Ramses had his father’s energy and faith in his mission. Nothing mattered more to him than his people’s well-being.

  To save Egypt from an invasion, Ramses had been forced to wage war on the Hittites. Tuya had approved of her son’s decision, for compromising with evil led only to disaster. Combating it was the only acceptable option.

  But the conflict wore on, and Ramses took ever-greater risks. Tuya prayed that Seti’s soul, in its new incarnation as a star, would protect his successor. In her right hand, she held a mirror with a papyrus-stalk handle. The hieroglyph for the plant signified blooming health. When such a mirror was placed in a tomb, it assured eternal youth for the occupant’s soul. Tuya pointed the polished bronze disk toward the sky and asked her mirror the secret of the future.

  “May I have a word?”

  The Queen Mother turned around slowly. “Nefertari . . .”

  The Great Royal Wife, in her long white dress with a red sash, was as lovely as the paintings of goddesses on the walls of eternal dwellings in the Valleys of the Kings and Queens.

  “My dear, I sense that you bring me good news.”

  “Ramses has freed Ahsha and recaptured the province of Amurru. Beirut is back under Egyptian control.”

  The two women embraced.

  “When will he be back?”

  “I don’t know,” confessed Nefertari.

  As they entered into conversation, Tuya sat down at her vanity table, massaging her face with a pomade made from honey, red natron, alabaster powder, donkey’s milk, and fenugreek seed. This treatment smoothed wrinkles, firmed the skin, and brightened the complexion.

  “Something’s worrying you, Nefertari.”

  “I’m afraid that Ramses may still be pushing northward.”

  “Toward Kadesh, you mean?”

  “Toward another trap that the Hittite emperor has laid for him. Letting him retake our protectorates with relative ease may well be part of Muwattali’s plan.”

  The tribal elders were meeting in Aaron’s spacious mud-brick home. They had sworn all of the Hebrews to silence about Moses’ return to Egypt; the Pharaoh’s police must be kept in the dark.

  Moses was still popular. Many Hebrews hoped that he would once again help the brickmakers hold up their heads. Yet the elders’ elected chairman, Libni, had his reservations.

  “What brings you back here, Moses?” the old man asked gruffly.

  “I saw a burning bush on the mountaintop—a bush that burned without being consumed by the fire.”

  “It was just your imagination.”

  “No, a sign from God.”

  “Have you lost your mind, man?”

  “God called to me from that bush and He spoke to me.”

  A murmur swept through the assembly.

  “What did He say?”

  “God has heard the cries and moans of the children of Israel in their bondage.”

  “Come now, Moses. We’re paid for the work we do here. It’s not as if we were prisoners of war.”

  “The Hebrew people are not free to follow their conscience.”

  “Of course we are! You’re not making sense.”

  “Yahweh told me: ‘Once you’ve led the people out of Egypt, you will come to worship me on this mountain.’”

  The elders clucked in consternation. “Out of Egypt!” one of them exclaimed. “What does that mean?”

  “God has seen His people’s misery in Egypt. He wishes to free us and lead us to a land of plenty.”

  It was more than Libni could take. “You’ve been away too long, Moses. The Hebrews have lived in this country for generations. You yourself were born here. Egypt has become our home.”

  “I’ve spent the last few years in Midian, working as a shepherd. I married and had a son. I thought I’d settle in the desert, but God had other plans for me.”

  “You were hiding from the law.”

  “I killed an Egyptian, it’s true, but only because he attacked a Hebrew.”

  “We can’t blame Moses for what he did,” one of the elders chimed in. “Now it’s our turn to protect him.”

  The rest of the council voiced their assent.

  “If you desire to live among us,” declared Libni, “we agree to hide you. But you must give up this crazy plan of yours.”

  “I’ll win you over, one at a time if I have to. It’s the will of God.”

  “We have no intention of leaving Egypt,” the youngest member of the council said firmly. “We have our houses and gardens. There’s just been an increase in incentive pay for brickmakers. No one goes hungry here. Why would we want to go anywhere else?”

  “Because I’m bound to lead you to the Promised Land.”

  “You’re not our elected leader,” protested Libni. “You can’t tell us what to do.”

  “You’ll end up doing as God commands.”

  “Are you challenging my authority?”

  “I didn’t mean to offend you, Libni, but I have no right to hide my intentions. What man could be vain enough to believe his will is stronger than the will of God?”

  “If you’re really His messenger, you’ll have to prove it.”

  “There’ll be plenty of proof. Don’t worry.”

  Prone on a nest of cushions, Ahsha was letting the lovely Lotus work out the knots in his muscles. Slender as she was, her skilled hands were amazingly strong.

  “How does your back feel now?”

  “Better, but farther down the pain is still unbearable.”

  “You’ll have to live with it!” thundered Setau, ducking into Ahsha’s tent.

  “Your wife is divine.”

  “I’m glad you remember she’s mine.”

  “Setau! You can’t be thinking . . .”

  “Diplomats are all liars, and you’re up there with the best of them. Get up now. Ramses is expecting us.”

  Ahsha turned to Lotus. “Can you help me?”

  Setau yanked his friend upright. “You’re good as new. No more massages, friend!”

  The snake charmer handed the diplomat a kilt and shirt. “Now hurry. You know how the king hates to be kept waiting.”

  After naming a replacement for the Prince of Amurru (an Egyptian-educated Lebanese who might prove more loyal than Benteshina), Ramses had proceeded with a series of appointments throughout Phoenicia and Palestine. He was determined that the princes, mayors, and heads of villages should be natives and that each of them would swear an oath to uphold the alliance with Egypt. If they broke their word, the Egyptian army would react immediately. To this end, Ahsha had instituted a system of observation and reporting which he hoped would bring better results. The military presence would be de-emphasized and the network of informants well compensated. The head of Egyptian diplomacy believed in the virtues of espionage.

  On a low table, Ramses had spread out a map of the region. His troops’ efforts were paying off. Canaan, Amurru, and southern Syria
once again formed a vast buffer zone between Egypt and Hatti.

  It was Ramses’ second victory over the Hittites. One more decision faced him, a decision vital to the future of the Twin Kingdoms.

  Setau and Ahsha, somewhat more disheveled than usual, finally made their appearance in the spacious tent where the council of generals and officers had convened.

  “Have all the enemy fortresses been dismantled?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” the Ra division general advised. “The last one, at Shalom, fell yesterday.”

  “Shalom means peace,” Ahsha informed them. “That’s the goal we’ve finally achieved here.”

  “Should we continue north,” asked the king, “to take Kadesh and deal a fatal blow to the Hittites?”

  “Speaking for your officers, that would be our preference,” the general declared. “We’d like to top off our victory by flattening the barbarians.”

  “It will never work,” assessed Ahsha. “Just as before, the Hittites have backed away from our advance. Their troops are intact and as they head north they’re laying traps that could take a serious toll on our forces.”

  “With Ramses leading us, we can’t lose!” said the general fervently.

  “You don’t know the territory,” countered Ahsha. “The Hittites will have the advantage in the high plateaus, the gorges and forests of Anatolia. Even at Kadesh, our men would die by the thousands, and there’s no guarantee we could take the fortress.”

  “Diplomats always preach caution. This time we’re ready!”

  “This meeting is dismissed,” ordered Ramses. “You’ll learn my decision at dawn tomorrow.”

  TEN

  Thanks to Aaron’s hospitality, Moses spent several untroubled weeks among the brickmakers. His wife and son were free to explore the bustling Egyptian capital. Once they felt at home in the Hebrew community, they branched out to mingle among the Delta natives, Middle Easterners, Palestinians, Nubians, and other members of Pi-Ramses’ diverse population.

  Moses, however, lived like a recluse, appearing in public only before the council of elders. He repeatedly asked to address them, airing the same unpopular views and incredible claims as the first time.