“Pharaoh must carry out his plan.”
The Nile and the Nubian scenery blocked out the thought of Shaanar and his hatred. At each stop, Lotus and Setau captured fine cobras, including one with black and red stripes on its head. The venom harvest would be plentiful. Lotus was more fetching than ever, the palm wine flowed, and the warm nights made the voyage seem like a honeymoon cruise.
As the dawn’s clear light revived the green of the palm trees and gold of the hills, Nefertari savored the joy of the day’s rebirth, hailed by the song of countless birds. Every morning, dressed in a traditional white dress with shoulder straps, she worshiped the gods of the sky, the earth, the world between. She thanked them for giving life to the people of Egypt.
Stranded on a sandbank was a small trading ship.
The royal flagship pulled up beside it. There were no signs of life on the abandoned craft.
Ramses, Setau, and two sailors took a rowboat to examine the wreck more closely. Nefertari tried to dissuade the king, but he was convinced that the boat must be Shaanar’s and wanted to search for clues.
The bridge yielded nothing.
“The hold,” said a sailor. “The door is stuck.”
With Setau’s help, he broke the wooden latch.
But why would a boat run aground where the river was easy to navigate? Why abandon ship without even taking the time to unload the cargo?
The sailor disappeared into the hold.
A horrible scream tore through the blue morning. Setau jumped back. Even he, who fearlessly handled the deadliest reptiles, froze in his tracks.
Several crocodiles had entered the boat through a gaping hole. The sailor disappeared legs first into their jaws. His screams had already stopped.
Ramses wanted to try to save the man. Setau held him back.
“You’ll be next. There’s nothing we can do for him.”
A new trap, cruel as the last one. Shaanar had based his plan on his brother’s notorious fearlessness.
Fuming, the king headed back to the rowboat with Setau and the other sailor, hopping off the wrecked hull and onto the sandbank.
In their path was a crocodile, monstrously large and staring at them, jaws parted, ready to spring. Huge as he was, they knew he could move like lightning. In hieroglyphs, after all, the crocodile stood for danger that struck without warning.
Setau looked around. They were hemmed in by crocodiles, their fangs showing. Some of the reptiles even seemed to be smiling at the thought of such a delicious breakfast.
From the flagship, no one could see their predicament. In a while the crew would wonder what was taking them so long, but it would be too late.
“I don’t want to die this way,” muttered Setau.
Ramses slowly pulled out his dagger. He wouldn’t give in without a fight. When the beast attacked, he’d slip underneath it and try to slash its throat. It would be a desperate struggle and Shaanar would come out the winner, hiding behind the scenes.
The giant crocodile came forward a few feet, then stopped. The sailor was on his knees, covering his eyes with his hands.
“You and I will run at him yelling,” Ramses told Setau. “Maybe they’ll hear us back on ship. You go left and I’ll take the right side.”
Ramses’ last thought was for Nefertari, so near and already so far away. Then he emptied his mind, gathered his energy, and looked straight at his huge opponent.
He was about to let go a scream when he noticed a rustling in the thorny brush along the shore. Next came a mighty trumpeting, so loud that even the crocodiles were terror-stricken.
The sound matched the proportions of a gigantic bull elephant rushing through the water toward the sandbank.
He snatched the crocodile by the tail with his trunk and flung him back in the water. The whole pack of reptiles scattered.
“So it’s you, old friend!” exclaimed Ramses.
The elephant wrapped his trunk, flanked by mammoth tusks, around the King of Egypt’s waist, depositing Ramses on his neck as his broad ears flapped.
“I saved your life once. Now you’ve saved mine.”
The young male from whose trunk Ramses had long ago extracted an arrow was now a magnificent bull. His small eyes gleamed with intelligence.
When Ramses petted his forehead, the elephant once again trumpeted, this time with joy.
Nedjem, the secretary of agriculture, had just put the finishing touches on his report. Thanks to an optimum flood level, the Twin Kingdoms would have an abundant supply of grain. The Treasury scribes’ careful management would bring tax relief. Returning to his capital, Ramses would note that each member of his cabinet had performed outstandingly, under Ahmeni’s scrupulous supervision.
Nedjem hustled to the palace garden, expecting to find Kha and his sister, Meritamon. Only the girl was there, practicing on her lute.
“Has your brother been gone for long?”
“He hasn’t been here.”
“But this is where we were supposed to meet . . .”
Nedjem headed toward the library, where he had left Kha shortly after lunch. The boy had planned to copy passages from the books of wisdom dating from the time of the pyramids.
The prince was there, sitting cross-legged in the classic scribe’s position. A fine brush flew over the papyrus spread on his lap.
“Aren’t you tired by now?”
“No, Nedjem. These texts are so beautiful that copying them gives me energy.”
“You may need to take a break.”
“Oh, no, not now! I really wanted to study the engineering on the pyramid of Unas at Saqqara.”
“But your dinner . . .”
“I’m not hungry, Nedjem. Please let me stay.”
“All right, but only a little while.”
The boy rose, kissed his guardian on both cheeks, then sat back down and immersed himself once again in reading, writing, and research.
On his way out of the library, Nedjem shook his head in wonderment. Once more he was amazed by Ramses’ eldest son’s exceptional gifts. The child prodigy was now an adolescent who confirmed his early promise. If Kha continued to grow in wisdom, the Pharaoh would be assured of having a worthy successor.
“How is agriculture faring, my dear Nedjem?”
The voice that broke into his meditation was that of an elegant, smiling Meba.
“Fine, just fine.”
“It’s been so long since we’ve had a chance to talk. Would you accept an invitation to dinner?”
“I’m afraid I have to refuse. Prior commitments, you know.”
“Too bad. I wish you could join me.”
“I do, too, but official duties come first, as I’m sure you’ll agree.”
“A faithful servant of Pharaoh could hardly do otherwise.”
“Unfortunately, men are only men, and often forget their duty.”
Meba hated this naive and pompous wet blanket, but to get the information he needed he was willing to put on a show of respect and consideration.
The old diplomat’s situation was far from promising. Several fruitless attempts had convinced him he’d never break Ahsha’s code and learn the content of his confidential messages. Ahmeni would remain on his guard.
“May I drive you home, then? I have a new chariot and two very steady horses.”
“I’d just as soon walk,” Nedjem said gruffly.
“May I ask how Prince Kha is doing?”
The agriculture secretary’s face lit up. “Exceptionally well, thank you.”
“What an amazing boy!”
“More than amazing. He has the makings of a king.”
Meba grew serious. “Only a man like you, Nedjem, can shelter him from evil influences. A talent like his can’t help inspiring jealousy and resentment.”
“Don’t worry. Setau has provided him with protection against the evil eye.”
“Are you sure he’s taken every precaution?”
“There’s a papyrus-stem amulet to keep him growing strong
, and a wristband with magical inscriptions. No matter what evil comes his way, he’ll be safe.”
“It does sound impressive.”
“Not only that, every day Kha renews his knowledge of secret inscriptions in the temple of Amon’s laboratory. Believe, me the boy is well taken care of.”
“You’ve reassured me. To show my thanks, may I invite you to dine some other time?”
“To be frank, I don’t have much use for society.”
“I know how you feel, my dear man. Unfortunately, in my position there’s no way around it.”
When the two men parted, Meba felt like jumping for joy. Ofir would be proud of him.
FORTY-ONE
When the flagship landed at Abu Simbel, the bull elephant, arriving overland, trumpeted a welcome. From atop the cliffs he would watch over Ramses, who now looked wonderingly on the creek with golden sand where the mountain parted and came back together. The king recalled how he had first discovered this enchanted place, how Lotus had come here in search of the goddess’s magic stone.
The Nubian beauty could not resist plunging naked into the river and swimming smoothly toward the sunlit banks. Several sailors followed suit, glad to have reached their destination safely.
Everyone was in awe of the site’s natural splendor. The cliff ’s rocky spur was a landmark for navigators. The Nile curved sinuously along the bluffs, divided into two promontories with a flow of tawny sand between them.
Her body shining with silver rivulets, Lotus scaled the cliff, laughing, followed by Setau in his antelope skin saturated with medicinal potions.
“What does this place say to you?” Ramses asked Nefertari.
“I feel the presence of the goddess Hathor. The stones are like stars with the gold of the sun on them.”
“To the north, a steep slab of granite reaches almost to the high waters. To the south, the hills flatten out. The two rocky points are a couple; that’s what matters most. Here I’ll celebrate our love, building two temples intertwined for all time, like Pharaoh and the Great Royal Wife. Your image will be carved in stone, forever greeting the sun with each new day.”
Although it was unseemly in public, Nefertari tenderly put her arms around Ramses’ neck and kissed him.
When his boat was in sight of Abu Simbel, the Viceroy of Nubia rubbed his eyes, sure he was seeing a mirage.
On the shore, dozens of stonecutters had set up a full-scale quarrying operation. Some of them worked the cliffs with the aid of scaffolding, while others were extracting blocks of stone. Cargo ships had brought the necessary equipment, and to establish the indispensable discipline, gang leaders had divided the workmen into teams in charge of specific tasks.
The master builder was none other than Ramses himself. On the esplanade stood a scale model and plans. The king would make sure that his vision was perfectly translated, rectifying errors after conferring with the architect and head stonemason.
How could he make his presence known without disturbing the Pharaoh? The Viceroy of Nubia decided it was prudent to wait until Ramses noticed him. Didn’t they say that the king was short-tempered and hated interruptions?
Something lightly touched his left foot, something smooth and cool . . . The viceroy looked down and froze.
A black and red snake, some three feet long. It had slithered through the sand and come to a halt at his feet. The slightest move and it would bite him. Even a cry for help would make the reptile strike.
A few feet away stood a bare-breasted young woman in a short kilt that flapped in the breeze, revealing more charms than it concealed.
“A snake,” murmured the viceroy. Despite the heat, he had goosebumps.
Lotus saw no cause for alarm.
“What are you afraid of?”
“It’s a snake!” he gasped.
“Speak up, I can’t hear you.”
The reptile slowly wound its way up his calf. The viceroy couldn’t get a word out.
Lotus came closer. “Did you do something to upset it?”
He was close to fainting.
The pretty Nubian picked up the red and black snake, wrapping it around her left arm. Why was this flabby little man afraid of a snake whose venom she’d already milked?
The viceroy ran headlong into a rock and landed in a heap not far from the king. Ramses considered this important personage sprawled in the sand with some curiosity.
“I expect you to bow to me, but aren’t you overdoing it a bit?”
“Forgive me, Your Majesty, but a snake . . . I narrowly escaped with my life!”
The viceroy got to his feet.
“Have you arrested Shaanar?”
“I swear, Your Majesty, I’ve spared no effort. I’ve put all the wheels in motion.”
“You haven’t answered my question.”
“We’ll get him in the end. My soldiers have every bit of Nubia under control, both upper and lower. They’ll find the scoundrel.”
“Why haven’t you come before?”
“The demands of local security . . .”
“In your eyes, is that more important than the security of your king and queen?”
The viceroy turned crimson. “Of course not, Your Majesty. That’s not what I meant at all, and . . .”
“Follow me.”
The provincial governor feared the wrath of Pharaoh, but Ramses remained calm.
The viceroy followed him inside one of the big tents set up at the edge of the work site. It served as Setau’s infirmary. The snake charmer was treating a quarryman’s leg abrasion.
“Do you like Nubia, Setau?” queried the king.
“Do you even need to ask?”
“Your wife seems happy here, too.”
“She’s wearing me out. She has twice her normal energy and can’t seem to get enough of me.”
The viceroy was aghast. How dare the man speak that way to the Lord of the Two Lands?
“You know this distinguished gentleman. He’s finally done us the honor of paying a visit.”
“I hate administrators,” retorted Setau. “They end up smothering on a bed of roses.”
“I’ll be sorry to see that happen to you.”
Setau looked at the king in astonishment.
“What do you mean?”
“Nubia is a vast territory, and governing it is a challenge. Don’t you agree, Viceroy?”
“Yes, yes, Your Majesty!”
“The province of Kush alone demands a firm hand. Would you agree with that too?”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
“Since I have the greatest regard for your opinion, I’ve decided to name my friend Setau ‘Royal Son of the Province of Kush’ and allow him to run it.”
As if unconcerned, Setau folded bandages. The viceroy looked like a lifeless statue.
“Your Majesty, think of the problems, my relations with Setau . . .”
“They’ll be frank and cordial, I’m sure. Go back to the fortress of Buhen and work on arresting Shaanar.”
Stunned, the viceroy withdrew.
Setau stood with his arms crossed. “I suppose this is your idea of a joke, Your Majesty.”
“There’s a wealth of snakes in the region. You’ll harvest a great deal of venom. Lotus will be happy, and you’ll be able to live on this incomparable site. I need you, my friend, to oversee the construction and see that the two temples of Abu Simbel go up as planned. They must immortalize the image of the royal couple, celebrating the central mystery of our civilization here in the heart of Nubia. But if my decision displeases you, you’re free to refuse.”
A sort of groan escaped from Setau. “You must have fixed this up with Lotus. And who can resist the will of Pharaoh?”
Through the magic of ritual, the king transferred his enemies’ souls from south to north, west to east, and vice versa. Thanks to the reversal of cardinal directions, placing the site outside the manifest world, Abu Simbel would be sheltered from human torment. Where the temples would one day stand, the queen creat
ed a force field to protect them from outside attack.
In the small outer chapel in front of the facade, Ramses offered Ma’at the love that bound him to Nefertari, linking the royal couple’s union to the light. Their marriage, perpetually celebrated at Abu Simbel, would serve as a beacon for divine energy, a spring to nourish the people of Egypt.
The twin temples came to life before the eyes of Ramses and Nefertari. The workmen dug the inner sanctum deep in the cliff. The stone would be cut a hundred feet high, a hundred twenty wide, almost two hundred deep.
When the names of Ramses and Nefertari were cut for the first time into the stone of Abu Simbel, the king would give the order to begin preparations to depart.
“Will you go back to Pi-Ramses?”
“Not yet. I’m going to look for a number of other sites in Nubia where temples can be built. The gods and goddesses will inhabit this fiery land, and you’ll direct the construction. Abu Simbel will be the central flame, flanked by sanctuaries that will help consolidate the peace. The work will take years to finish, but in the end we’ll conquer time.”
Moved and thoughtful, Lotus watched the royal flagship sail into the distance. From atop the cliff she admired Ramses and Nefertari in the prow of their white-sailed vessel, gliding on the blue water in the image of Nubia’s sky.
What before she had only sensed, Lotus today could formulate: loving Nefertari and winning her love were what had made Ramses a great pharaoh.
Nefertari, the Lady of Abu Simbel, blazed the paths of heaven and earth.
FORTY-TWO
Shaanar was angrier than ever.
Nothing was going according to his plans. After his failed attempts to eliminate Ramses, or at least sabotage his expedition, Shaanar had been forced to try to outrun him, fleeing deeper into the south.
He stole a boat in some village; unfortunately, the local fishermen complained to the authorities, and the viceroy’s soldiers were in hot pursuit. Without the skill of his Nubian sailors, he would have been caught. Out of caution, he abandoned ship and made his way through the desert, hoping they’d lose his trail. Now Shaanar’s right-hand man, a Cretan mercenary, was cursing the heat, the scorching air, the ever-present danger of snakes, lions, and other wild beasts.
Ramses, Volume IV Page 21
