Setau saw that there was no disputing the queen’s touching conviction. But how would she react when she was forced to accept the inevitable? The magician set aside his own grief to share Nefertari’s. He was already imagining the grim return to Pi-Ramses and the announcement of Ramses’ death.
Shaanar and his companions waited until they had covered a good distance, with the help of a strong northward current, before pausing to rest. They sank their boat and waded into the verdant countryside, where they would swap amethysts for donkeys.
“Where are we going?” demanded a Cretan henchman.
“You there, go to Pi-Ramses and debrief Ofir.”
“I hope he won’t shoot the messenger.”
“We have nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Ofir doesn’t like to lose.”
“He knows the odds against us; he knows that I’m doing all I can. And you have two valuable pieces of information to give him. First, I saw Setau on board the royal flagship. That means Kha is no longer under his wing. Second, I’m going to Nubia, as we agreed. I’ll kill Ramses there.”
“I’d rather go with you,” said the mercenary. “My comrade would make a better messenger. I’m good at fighting and tracking game.”
“All right.”
Shaanar was not in the least discouraged. The brief and bloody clash had turned him into a full-fledged war chief, releasing years of pent-up rage. With a handful of men and a bit of imagination, he had taken the mighty Ramses by surprise. In fact, he had almost triumphed!
The next time, he would do more than come close.
Silence reigned over the royal flotilla. No one dared engage in conversation for fear of disturbing the queen. As evening drew near, she still stood in meditation in the flagship’s prow.
Setau also kept the silence, letting her cling to the last shred of hope. Once the sun went down, Nefertari would have to face the unspeakable facts.
“I knew it,” she said so softly it startled Setau.
“Your Majesty . . .”
“Ramses is over there, on the roof of the white palace.”
“Your Majesty, it’s getting darker, and . . .”
“Take a good look.”
Setau squinted at the spot where Nefertari pointed. “You’re seeing things.”
“I’m not,” she said firmly. “Let’s move closer.”
Setau reluctantly relayed the queen’s command. The flagship raised anchor and sailed toward the City of the Horizon of Aton, already fading in the dusk.
The snake charmer looked once more toward the roof of the white palace that had once been home to Akhenaton and Nefertiti. Suddenly, he saw what looked like the standing figure of a man. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. It was no illusion.
“Ramses is alive,” Nefertari repeated.
“Full speed ahead!” yelled Setau.
And Ramses’ silhouette drew nearer, larger by the minute, in the sun’s last rays.
Setau was fuming.
“Why couldn’t the Lord of the Two Lands simply signal for help? That would be no disgrace!”
“I had other things to do,” answered the king. “Lotus and I swam underwater, but she lost consciousness, and I thought she’d drowned. We came ashore at the far end of the ghost town. I magnetized Lotus until she came back to life. Then we walked through the town looking for the highest point, where you’d be more likely to spot us. I knew Nefertari was following our every step. She’d look in the right direction.”
Quietly radiant, the queen discreetly displayed her emotion by clinging to Ramses’ arm as he stroked his lion.
“I thought the egg had failed to save you,” muttered Setau. “If you’d died, it would have compromised my career as a magician.”
“How is Lotus?” inquired the queen.
“I gave her a sedative. After a good night’s sleep, she’ll forget this unfortunate incident.”
A steward poured cool white wine into goblets for them.
“About time,” Setau commented archly. “I was beginning to think we’d left civilization behind.”
“During the fighting,” Ramses questioned him, “did you get a good look at the enemy leader?”
“They all looked pretty fierce to me. I didn’t even notice there was a leader.”
“He was bearded, angry and wild-eyed . . . and for a second, I felt sure that it was Shaanar.”
“Shaanar was lost in a sandstorm on his way to jail. Even scorpions die eventually.”
“What if he didn’t die?”
“If so, his only thought would be to stay out of sight. He’d hardly be roaming the country with a band of mercenaries.”
“This attack was planned, and it nearly succeeded.”
“Could hatred turn a prince into a warrior chief who’d ambush his own brother and assault the sacred person of Pharaoh?”
“If it was Shaanar, we already know the answer.”
Setau glowered. “If that villain really is alive, we’ll have to be careful. The fury of the desert demons is in his blood.”
“This was no chance encounter,” said Ramses. “Call together the stone carvers from the surrounding towns.”
Some came from Hermopolis, the city of Thoth, others from Assiut, the city of Anubis. Several dozen stone carvers set up a tent city and within hours of their arrival set to work. The speech Ramses gave them was brief and to the point; he placed them under the supervision of two master builders.
In front of the ghostly city’s abandoned palace, Pharaoh had handed down his orders. The City of the Horizon of Aton must vanish from the earth. One of Ramses’ predecessors, Horemheb, had dismantled some of its temples, using the stones to fill in his monumental gates at Karnak. Ramses, however, planned to raze the palaces, houses, workshops, riverfront, and other structures. Only then would his work be done. Stone and mud brick would be recycled. The tombs, which harbored no mummies, would be left intact.
The royal flagship lay at anchor until the buildings had been leveled. Only the foundations were left, and soon the sands would drift over them, reducing the wayward capital to nothingness, no longer a gathering place for negative forces.
The salvaged building materials were loaded onto barges. They would be distributed to neighboring towns according to need. The demolition workers were offered meat, oil, beer, and clothing as incentives.
Ramses and Nefertari visited the royal palace one last time before it was razed. The painted tiling would be reused in the royal palace at Hermopolis.
“Akhenaton was wrong,” commented Ramses. “The religion he preached was narrow and intolerant. He betrayed the very spirit of Egypt. Unfortunately, I think that Moses is headed down the same road.”
“Akhenaton and Nefertiti were a strong couple,” Nefertari reminded him. “They respected our laws and were wise enough to acknowledge that their ideas were an experiment. At least they confined the cult of Aton to this remote spot.”
“But the poison spread beyond it . . . and I’m not certain that razing this place will clear away the dark shadows. But at least we’ll be giving it back to the mountains and desert, and no rebel group will use it as a base again.”
When the last stonemason left the leveled city, shrouded forever in silence and neglect, Ramses gave the order to set sail for Abydos.
THIRTY-ONE
Approaching Abydos, Ramses felt a lump in his throat. It had been too long between visits, knowing how much his father had loved the great temple, the importance he had placed on completing his shrine to Osiris.Yes, the Hittite wars and national security had claimed Ramses’ time and energy of late, but would any excuse matter to the god of resurrection when they met in the Judgment Hall of the Dead?
Setau had pictured a large turnout of “pure priests” with shaved heads, scented and dressed in spotless white, along with peasants bearing offerings, and priestesses playing the lute and lyre. Instead, the temple landing was deserted.
“Something’s not right,” he declared. “Let’s stay on boa
rd.”
“What are you afraid of?” asked Ramses.
“Suppose that some other band of marauders has taken over the temple and is waiting to spring a new trap for you.”
“Here, on the sacred ground of Abydos?”
“There’s no use taking risks. Let’s continue south and send in the army.”
“And admit that a single iota of my kingdom is off limits to me? Never—especially not Abydos!”
Ramses’ anger raged like one of Set’s thunderstorms. Not even Nefertari attempted to quell it.
The flotilla landed. Pharaoh took personal command of a unit of chariots hastily assembled from parts stored in the holds of the ships.
The avenue leading from the landing stage to the temple complex was also deserted, as if the holy city had been abandoned. Before the monumental gateway, bearing the mark of stonemasons, tools lay neatly in chests. Wooden sledges laden with blocks of Aswan granite sat idle beneath the tamarisks.
Puzzled, Ramses made his way to the palace adjoining the temple. On the steps leading to the main doorway, an old man was spreading goat cheese on slices of bread. The charioteers’ sudden appearance made him lose his appetite. Panic-stricken, he abandoned his meal and tried to run, but was intercepted by a foot soldier who brought him before the king.
“Who are you?” inquired Ramses.
The old man’s voice trembled. “One of the palace washermen.”
“Why aren’t you at work?”
“There’s, uh, nothing to do, since everyone’s gone. Well, almost everyone . . . a few priests, the ones my age, are still around the sacred lake.”
Despite an energetic effort on Ramses’ part, early in his reign, the temple remained unfinished. Breaching the monumental gateway, the king and a handful of soldiers walked through the administrative enclave, made up of offices, workshops, a butcher shop, bakery, and brewery—all unstaffed. Their pace quickened as they approached the resident priests’ quarters.
Seated on a stone bench, hands resting on the knob of his acacia-wood cane, an old man with a shaved skull attempted to rise and greet the king.
“Spare yourself the trouble, servant of god.”
“You are Pharaoh . . . I’ve heard so much about the Son of Light whose power shines like the sun! My eyes are weak, but there’s no mistaking you . . . How lucky I am to see you before I die. At the age of ninety-two, the gods have given me great joy.”
“What’s going on here at Abydos, old man?”
“Oh, it’s the half of the month when the staff is all requisitioned.”
“On whose orders?”
“The mayor of the next town over . . . He decided there were too many people working here and that repairing canals made more sense than saying prayers.”
The mayor was a jolly fellow with plump cheeks and thick lips. Since his paunch made it hard for him to walk far, he usually got about in a sedan chair. But it was a chariot that now took him to Abydos at a very fair clip.
Wheezing, the mayor prostrated himself before the king, who was seated on a gilded wooden throne with lion-claw feet.
“Forgive me, Your Majesty, I wasn’t forewarned of your arrival! If I’d known, I would have provided a reception worthy of you, I would have . . .”
“Are you responsible for requisitioning personnel from Abydos?”
“Yes, but . . .”
“Have you forgotten that it’s strictly against the law?”
“No, Your Majesty, but I thought that the temple staff was underemployed and might be put to good use serving the province.”
“You took them away from duties assigned by my father and upheld by me.”
“Still, I thought . . .”
“You’ve committed a very grave infraction, the punishment for which has been set down in a decree: a hundred lashes, the nose and ears cut off.”
The mayor blanched and stammered.
“It can’t be true, Your Majesty. That’s inhuman!”
“You knew what you were doing, and you were aware of the punishment. There’s not even any need of a trial.”
Aware that a judge would hand down an identical sentence, if not something harsher, the mayor began to plead and sob.
“I admit that I did wrong, but it wasn’t for my personal benefit! With the help of the temple staff, the dikes were repaired in record time and the canals thoroughly dredged.”
“In that case, I’ll offer you the choice of another sentence: you and your municipal staff can serve as construction workers at the temple until its completion.”
Each priest and priestess accomplished his or her ritual task, ensuring that the temple of Osiris was like the horizon, illuminating all that gazed upon it. Ramses had dedicated a golden statue of his father; he and Nefertari also made a ceremonial offering to Ma’at. The gods felt at home in the temple, with its electrum-plated Cedar of Lebanon doors, silver floors, granite trim, and brightly painted bas-reliefs. On the altars were flowers, flasks of perfume, and food for the unseen hosts.
There were stockpiles of gold, silver, royal linen, oils for special occasions, wine, honey, myrrh, and unguents. The stables housed fat oxen, healthy cows and calves; the storerooms were bursting with top-quality grain. As a hieroglyphic inscription proclaimed: Pharaoh multiplies all species for the gods.
In a speech to the province’s notables, gathered in the palace audience chamber at Abydos, Ramses decreed that the boats, fields, land, livestock, donkeys, and all other property of the temple could not be removed from the premises on any account. As for the wardens, bird-catchers, fishermen, farmers, beekeepers, gardeners, vintners, hunters, and other workers on the temple estates, they were to remain in service to Osiris and never to be requisitioned for work in any other domain.
Anyone found in violation of the royal decree would be subject to corporal punishment, stripped of all functions, and sentenced to several years’ hard labor.
At Ramses’ urging, the construction work moved rapidly ahead. The chapels glowed with continual services. Evil was banished. The temple once again basked in the law of Ma’at.
It was a happy time for Nefertari. Her stay in Abydos was her girlhood dream come true, giving her the unhoped-for chance to live in close contact with the gods, steep herself in their beauty, and glean their secrets as she celebrated the daily rites.
As the time came to close the doors of the naos—the inner sanctum—for the night, Ramses was nowhere near. The queen went to look for him and found him in the long corridor where the list of kings was inscribed, going back to the First Dynasty. Through the power of hieroglyphs, their names would live forever in human memory. The name of Ramses the Great would follow his father’s.
“How can I live up to their example?” the king wondered aloud. “Prevarication, cowardice, falsehood . . . what pharaoh will ever succeed in cleansing them from the hearts of men?”
“No pharaoh ever will,” replied Nefertari. “But all of them fought the good fight, and some won battles even though the war was lost in advance.”
“If even the holy ground of Abydos is infringed upon, is it even worthwhile handing down my decrees?”
“It’s not like you to be so discouraged.”
“That’s why I’ve come to consult my ancestors.”
“They can only have given you one piece of advice: go on, learn the uses of adversity, let it make you stronger.”
“I wish we could stay in this temple, Nefertari. There’s a peace here that I can never find in the outside world.”
“It’s my duty to warn you against the temptation, no matter how completely I agree.”
Ramses took his queen in his arms.
“Without you, nothing I do would have meaning. In two weeks’ time, the Mysteries of Osiris will be celebrated. We’ll take part in them, and I have a proposition for you. The decision will be entirely yours.”
Wielding clubs and uttering hoarse cries, a band of rascals attacked the head of the procession. Wearing the mask of the jackal god, the
Abydos priest serving as “trailblazer” fended off his attackers with ritual curses. The enactment would keep evil forces away from the bark of Osiris.
The initiates lent a hand to the trailblazer, pushing aside the enemies of light. The procession resumed its way toward the “Island of the First Morning,” where Ramses, in the role of Osiris slain by his brother Set, lay on a bed with a lion-head carving. The waters of the Nile surrounded the primeval mound to which the sister goddesses Isis and Nephtys would make their way over a footbridge.
The island was deep inside a colossal building formed of ten monolithic pillars supporting a ceiling worthy of the old-time pyramid builders. The secret sanctuary of Osiris culminated in a long, narrow transverse chamber; here rested the god’s sarcophagus.
Nefertari played the role of Isis, the bride of Osiris, while Iset the Fair was Nephtys, whose name means “Queen of the Temple.” She assisted Isis in the rites that would bring Osiris back from the dead.
Nefertari had accepted Ramses’ proposal, approving of Iset’s participation in the pageant.
The two women knelt, Nefertari at the head of the bed, Iset the Fair at the foot of it. A ewer of fresh water in the right hand, a round loaf of bread in the left, they recited the long and moving litanies that would pump new life into the form lying still on the bed.
Their voices rose in a single melody, under the protection of the sky goddess whose vast body, spangled with stars and decans, was depicted above the bed of resurrection.
At the end of a long night, Ramses-Osiris awoke. And he pronounced the words that every pharaoh before him had said in this identical pageant: “May I be granted light in the sky, creative power on earth, a true voice in the great beyond, and the ability to travel to the head of the stars. May I grasp the front rope of the bark of the night and the back rope of the bark of the day.”
THIRTY-TWO
Uri-Teshoop was in a rage.
Consulting with another soothsayer in the temple of the Storm God had done no good: the same dire predictions, the same advice not to launch an offensive. The majority of the soldiers were so superstitious that Uri-Teshoop could not afford to disregard the omens. And none of the oracles could tell him when the outlook might change.
Ramses, Volume IV Page 16
