Fall of the House of Ramesses, Book 1: Merenptah

by Max Overton

  The Chief of Secrets pronounced himself satisfied and Merenptah walked through to the antechamber where a small meal had been laid out on a clean linen cloth. Aromas of fresh baked bread with butter and roasted thinly sliced beef made his mouth water, so he sat and ate, washing the food down with thin beer, while a scribe sat ready with scrolls and palette, ready to record any utterances that might issue from the royal mouth.

  Tjaty of the South Neferronpet entered and bowed. "Life, Health, Prosperity! Word from Men-nefer, Divine Father. The body of your glorious father Usermaatre Setepenre Ramesses has left and is expected within a few days."

  "All is in readiness in Ta-sekhet-ma'at?"

  "Yes, Great One."

  "Good, I shall inspect it this afternoon. Is Usermaatre's House of Millions of Years in good repair? Ready to welcome him?"

  "Yes, Majesty."

  "What else have you for me?"

  "Messuwy, King's Son of Kush requests an interview once more. My Lord, you cannot keep putting him off."

  "I suppose not." Merenptah sighed and pushed back his plate. "Schedule him for after I return from my inspection."

  "The Hem-netjer of Amun also requests an audience." Neferronpet saw the king's grimace and added softly, "You cannot refuse him, Majesty."

  Merenptah was well aware of the power of the priests of Amun, particularly here in the god's holy city, so he nodded. "A little before I depart for Ta-sekhet-ma'at. That way I'll have an excuse to cut it short. What else have you for me?"

  "Nothing that won't wait, Divine Father. You have the Law Courts this morning, of course."

  "Can't you do it?"

  Neferronpet inclined his head in acquiescence.

  There followed a long silence, during which the ever-present servants cleared away the dishes and swept up the crumbs from the floor.

  "I think I shall approach the god at Ipet-isut, the Most Select of Places."

  "I shall arrange a suitable escort, Majesty."

  "No. I feel like being alone with my thoughts. No escort."

  Merenptah arose and walked with as little ceremony as possible from the palace to the canal that connected the palace with the river. Despite his desire for anonymity, the king attracted attention, and the Tjaty sent word to the commander of the palace guard. He rushed men to the canal gate and had the royal barge standing by when the king arrived.

  "Life, Prosperity, Health!" Commander Padiamen saluted the king.

  Merenptah nodded. It was to be expected. "I go to Ipet-isut."

  The barge cast off and oarsmen beat the water to froth, propelling the small vessel toward the river. The canal ran through pastures, orchards and farms, with lowing herds and black soil showing between the verdant growth. Workers downed tools and knelt when they saw the royal banner fluttering in the light breeze, a few venturing to cry out praises of the king come amongst them. A pleasant aroma of living things wafted to Merenptah's nostrils and he smiled for the first time that day.

  I should retire to my estates and leave all these troubles to other men. Messuwy would willingly take my place. Merenptah frowned at this last thought, his good mood evaporating. But how would Kemet fare under his rule?

  Several small fishing boats scattered as the barge nosed out into the river, and the captain of the barge beat out the time for the oarsmen as the current gripped them, the vessel moving crabwise across the wide expanse of water toward the temple dock. Behind the dock, across a short expanse of open ground, loomed the city walls, the great pylons of the river entrance rising even higher. A sudden commotion gripped the priests waiting there as they recognised the royal banner on the barge. Some went hurrying into the depths of the temple complex dedicated to many gods, while others formed up outside in ranks to welcome their king. The Temple of Amun was the largest of these, by far, and so most of the priests were from that temple.

  Rams' horns blew as the barge docked and Merenptah stepped ashore, flanked by Padiamen's guards. The junior priests all dropped to their knees, and the senior ones bowed low, extending their arms in greeting to the king. Merenptah acknowledged them and was starting to move toward the entrance when a priest in leopard-skin and white linen emerged, his shaven head and eyebrows lending him an astonished expression.

  "Life, Prosperity, Health, Son of Re, Lord of Appearances," said the priest. "Welcome to the House of Amun."

  Merenptah cast about in his mind for the name of this Second Prophet of Amun, the Hem-netjer sen-nu en Amun, and for several breaths could not remember. "Ah, Bakenkhons," he said at last. He looked beyond the priest. "Roma-Rui is not here?"

  "No, Son of Re," Bakenkhons managed to look surprised despite his shaven look of perpetual astonishment. "The Hem-netjer tepy en Amun went across to the palace at first light to speak to your Majesty."

  "Neferronpet mentioned something, but I was to see him later. Well, never mind. Shall we proceed?"

  In company with the Second Prophet, Merenptah walked down the avenue of ram-headed sphinxes that led across a large, open space. Normally crowded with petitioners seeking to sacrifice to Amun-Re, the area had been rapidly cleared when the royal barge had first been seen.

  This whole area could be enclosed within the temple. Another pylon and a forecourt perhaps. I would have to consider something like that...if I was to rule in Waset.

  Merenptah felt small as he walked toward the massive edifice of the entrance pylon. He looked up at the blue sky far above him and contemplated the insignificance of man when compared to this great temple of the god.

  "I suppose that's why it was built that way," he murmured.

  "Your pardon, Majesty?" Bakenkhons asked.

  Merenptah shook his head and continued on through the massive pylon into the hypostyle hall. The tapering towers that comprised the sides of the gate were painted with huge representations of the gods. Tall poles thrust yet higher into the azure sky, and gaily coloured banners fluttered in the stiff breeze that once again blew from the north.

  The hypostyle hall was cool and dim after the sun-soaked avenue and open space in front of the temple. Merenptah knew that a lot of the hypostyle hall had been built by his father and grandfather, and vowed to continue adding to the temple. One hundred and thirty-four vast columns rose, each fashioned and carved as papyrus stems, painted and ornamented with more images and proclamations. Such was the proximity of the great columns that shadows predominated, though as Merenptah continued on down the centre aisle he passed from shadow to sun to shadow to sun. His footsteps echoed back at him, his sandals slapping against the stone paving, followed a beat later by those of the priest walking a pace behind him.

  It must be like walking in a forest, though I cannot imagine that trees grow this large or as thickly as these stone pillars.

  The next pylon loomed, the one built by Nebmaatre Amenhotep, but added to by his own father Usermaatre who had built an antechamber to the gateway. Merenptah walked through and into a small space between the huge pylon of Nebmaatre and a much smaller one built by Aakheperkare Djehutymose. Above the towers, obelisks speared the sky and beyond them, through the next gateway he could see the deep shadows of the Temple of Amun. Faintly, in the hidden depths, the holy fires flickered in the inner precinct. He shivered, feeling the presence of the god.

  What am I doing here? he thought. I respect Amun, of course, but I am 'Beloved of Ptah'. I should be worshipping him today.

  Merenptah stopped and turned to the north. Across the wide expanse of the Temple Complex he could see a small gateway and a temple dwarfed by the structure he stood within. He smiled and took a few steps toward it.

  "Majesty, the Lord Amun awaits within the precinct," Bakenkhons said, not quite daring to stretch out his arm to pluck the king's sleeve.

  "I have changed my mind. I will worship in Ptah's temple today."

  Merenptah heard the shocked in-drawing of breath by the priest, but paid it no attention. He strode toward the small temple, disturbing several groups of people including priests and acolytes who
had not expected to see their king. They dropped to the hard-baked earth and prostrated themselves. Merenptah ignored them, intent on reaching the cool shadiness of the temple portico. Bakenkhons was on his heels and the expression on his face attempted to show disdain as well as habitual astonishment at the simple precinct dedicated to the god of craftsmen and architects. Merenptah moved inside, leaving the Second Prophet of Amun outside. The priest of Ptah sneered at his fellow priest before greeting the king and with a smile drew him to the Holy of Holies. The king lifted up his arms to the tall statue of the god.

  "Hail Ptah of the beautiful face," Merenptah cried. "O Ptah, Lord of Truth, Master of Justice, Master of Ceremonies and Lord of Eternity. Ptah, who listens to prayers, hear my voice." The king bent his head and murmured his thoughts in a low voice so no man could hear him, only the god. That way, he would know if the god answered his prayers. Afterward, Merenptah retraced his steps, Bakenkhons falling in to step beside him.

  "The Temple of Amun now, Majesty?"

  "Not today. Send word to my escort, I am returning to the palace."

  Bakenkhons tried hard to hide his displeasure, but it is foolish to deny a king, so he sent a junior priest running with the message while he accompanied Merenptah back through the hypostyle hall and forecourt, emerging into the avenue of sphinxes where Padiamen and his soldiers were waiting. The short voyage back across the river was uneventful and the canal with its peaceful messages of growth and prosperity served to calm the king's disturbed thoughts.

  What city will I make my capital? Per-Ramesses is my father's city, his presence is too great there for me to be comfortable. Waset? City of Amun? The previous capital? He shook his head. The priests of Amun are too powerful and dark. Men-nefer? It is Ptah's city and I love its airy palace and temples, but I must decide on what is best for Kemet, not just me.

  The barge docked at the palace quay and Merenptah hurried inside, calling for his Tjaty. Neferronpet came running, leaving the law courts to attend on his king. He found him in the throne room, pacing up and down.

  "Tell me of the Nine Bows, Tjaty. Which of Kemet's enemies dares move against us now that Usermaatre has passed on?"

  Neferronpet paused to collect his thoughts. "Our enemies are threefold, Majesty. Hatti and their allies are quiet, having been thoroughly cowed by the glorious exploits of your father. It is possible they will stir if they perceive Kemet's strength has lessened, but nothing yet. Similarly, rebel Kushite tribes were once a threat but now with Wawat and Kush ably governed, there is no current threat. In the northwest, however, the People of the Sea have allied with the Tjehenu. Recent incursions by the Ribu, one of the tribes of the Tjehenu, shows where the threat to the Ma'at of Kemet lies."

  "It is as I thought. In view of the threat, I will make my court in Men-nefer."

  "A wise choice, Majesty."

  "I must make a decision on the disposition of the legions, so I will need to confer with General Maktef tonight. Inform him."

  "Yes, Majesty."

  "The Hem-netjer tepy en Amun is here in the palace?"

  "Roma-Rui is presently in the gardens, Majesty."

  "I will see him now, alone."

  * * *

  The First Prophet of Amun entered the throne room and bowed. There was nothing Merenptah could point to as disrespectful in the action, but he had the feeling the priest had little love for the king. Merenptah maintained an impassive expression and rose to his feet, honouring the god the priest represented if not the man.

  "Hem-netjer of Amun, you requested an audience?"

  "Yes, Begotten of Geb."

  Merenptah's jaw clenched and pain shot through his teeth. He dares to use a princely title? Does he not recognise me as king? "I left that title behind when my father Usermaatre died."

  "Indeed, King's Son Merenptah, Noble in All the Land. I mean no disrespect, but..."

  "Yet you persist in offering me only princely titles. I am Baenre Merenptah, Lord of the Two Lands, Son of Re. You will accord me my due."

  Roma-Rui bowed and said nothing.

  Merenptah waited and eventually ground out, "Well?"

  "Your pardon, my Lord, I was waiting for you to speak."

  "You asked to see me," Merenptah pointed out, sitting down once more. "Say what you came to say."

  "Kemet is blessed above all nations by having many gods to rule every aspect of life, yet even the many gods recognise that Amun is in a pre-eminent position. For many years, the kings of Kemet paid homage to Amun by bearing His Holy Name and residing in Amun's Holy City, but of late..." Roma-Rui waved his hand negligently as if the past hundred years and several generations of kings were of no account, "...the court has moved north, forsaking Amun, and have put their faith in other gods...Set, for instance...or Ptah."

  "You criticise my family?"

  "What's done is done, but we have before us an opportunity to return the Great House to Amun's fold. Move your court to Waset, and be crowned here in Truth, taking a throne name that reflects your devotion to Amun."

  "My chosen throne name honours Re. If you choose, you may regard it as honouring Amun-Re."

  "And Waset? You will move your court back to this city?"

  "I am satisfied elsewhere."

  "It would be advisable to seek the protection of Amun. These are troubling times."

  Merenptah sat on his throne and stared at the First Prophet, trying to work out if the man was deliberately goading him, a dangerous occupation even for a High Priest, or was simply unaware of what he was saying. A fool then? I don't believe it, so why does he do this?

  "I make offerings to all the gods and as king I intend to repair temples and shrines throughout Kemet, building new ones where needed. No god will be overlooked, and though my family traditionally singles out Set and Ptah for special attention, I can assure you that Amun has been the beneficiary of many riches from the king's treasury."

  "Amun fell into disfavour once before, King's Son, in the days of the Heretic. The gods visited great ill on Kemet for those blasphemies. I would not like to see those days return."

  "Nor I...nor any sane man, but there is no talk of that. I have just said that Amun remains high in my favour and I am..."

  "High is not the same as pre-eminent."

  Merenptah sucked in his breath sharply at the daring of the man. It was unheard of to interrupt the king without abject apology. He glared at Roma-Rui.

  "You have leave to go," he said coldly.

  "Be mindful of what I have said 'Beloved of Ptah'. Amun is not a god to be taken lightly or deprived of his due."

  "Leave now, or the god will find himself with a new First Prophet."

  "As the god wills." Roma-Rui bowed, turned, and strolled from the throne room as if leaving the presence of an inferior.

  Merenptah considered having him arrested for insolence but refrained. Not yet. I am interested in how far this foolish priest will go. Why does he goad me thus?

  Chapter Eleven

  Year 1 of Baenre Merenptah

  The little fishing boat was tethered to an old water-logged chunk of wood caught in the reed beds, while the three young people had waded through to higher ground and found shelter underneath a willow tree. As dawn painted the white walls of Men-nefer in broad strokes of gold and rose, the young boy and girl stretched limbs unaccustomed to sleeping on hard ground and yawned, wanting breakfast.

  "I'm hungry," Seti complained. "I want honey cakes and milk."

  "Can you see any?" Tausret asked. "I'm hungry too, but we didn't bring any food." She looked around at the deserted farmland and reed beds rustling in the early morning breeze. "Where's Ament?"

  "Who cares?" Seti said, scratching himself. "It was only ill luck that brought him to us anyway."

  "Maybe, but what if he's gone looking for soldiers to take us back to the city?"

  "Perhaps we should go back. I'm hungry and my back hurts from that horribly hard ground."

  "What's happened to wanting to tell your father about your
fitness to be heir?"

  Seti scowled but said nothing.

  A splashing in the reeds made them turn quickly, alarmed that a crocodile was creeping up on them, but it was only Ament, clutching something in his arms.

  "There you are," Tausret cried. "Where have you been, sneaking off like that?"

  "Your pardon, Lady. I went to find us something to eat."

  "Honey cakes?" Seti asked hopefully.

  Ament smiled. "Nothing that nice, my Lord, but sustaining nonetheless." He knelt and laid a clutch of eggs and some dirty white tubers on the grass. "Duck eggs, and these are the roots of a particular sort of reed. It would be better to cook them but as we don't have a fire we'll have to eat them raw."

  Seti picked up a tuber and bit into it. "Yeeach." He spat it out. "I'm not eating that."

  Tausret tried a piece and chewed it thoroughly before swallowing. "It's not as bad as all that. Try it again, Seti, or try an egg."

  Ament held an egg out with a small smile on his face.

  Seti refused the tuber, but cracked the egg into his upturned mouth. "There's som'thin' innit," he mumbled, and spat the contents into his hand. A half-formed chick lay bloody amidst yolk and white. He cried out in horror and threw it away before bursting into tears.

  "You did that on purpose, you...you commoner. I want to go home," he wailed.

  "Well, you can't." Tausret picked up an egg and looked at it for a moment before putting it down and picking up another tuber instead. "I don't think I want eggs this morning, thank you all the same, Ament."

  Ament shrugged and broke the eggs one after the other, swallowing the contents quickly. He saw Seti's horrified expression and shrugged. "You get used to eating anything you can find when you're hungry."

  "But wouldn't you prefer honey cakes and milk? Or beef, or nice white bread?"

  "Of course, Lord Seti, but where is a common soldier going to find food like that? We get fed coarse bread and onions with weak beer on most days, and maybe a bit of meat on holy days."

  "That's not fair. Even palace servants eat better than that, eating the scraps off the king's table."