Fall of the House of Ramesses, Book 1: Merenptah

by Max Overton

  Tausret's cries grew louder and more sustained as her belly muscles contracted, rippling downward and pushing the baby's head from the birth canal. A woman took hold of the infant's head and shoulders, easing its passage, and then with a slippery rush, the child was born. Tausret gasped with the effort and stared at the blood and slime-covered infant, waiting for it to cry.

  One of the women snatched it up and dug her finger into its mouth, pulling a plug of mucus out, and then blew gently into its nose. Nothing happened and Tausret's gaze met Lady Nebettawy's.

  The old lady said, "Try again," and as the woman blew into the child's nostrils, leaned across and pinched the child's leg. The baby screwed up its face and uttered a thin wail, like the creaking of a tree in a high wind. The other women in the tent surreptitiously made signs against ill luck.

  Tausret looked around, her forehead lined in puzzlement. "What? What does it...Aaah, what's happening? Am I having another one?"

  "It is just the afterbirth," Lady Nebettawy said. "Soon over, and then you can rest."

  The pains did not last long and the placenta slipped from Tausret's body and was folded into a clean cloth by one of the women and removed from the birthing tent. While the women made her comfortable, and gave her watered wine to drink, Lady Nebettawy slipped outside and went in search of Prince Seti.

  "You have a son."

  "Gods be praised. He is strong?" Seti saw the look on Lady Nebettawy's face and paled. "Lady Tausret? She is well?"

  "Lady Tausret is recovering. It was no more arduous for her than for most women." She hesitated for a moment. "It would be best if you named your son quickly, Prince Seti. The gods will want to know his name in the Field of Reeds."

  Chapter Forty

  Year 8 of Baenre Merenptah

  The eighth year of Baenre Merenptah's reign brought a resurgence of trouble from the Nine Bows. The south came under attack, an amalgamation of Kushite tribes from the deep interior swarmed over the plantations near the river, killing and carrying off slaves and cattle. The newly appointed King's Son of Kush, Khaemter, mobilised his legion and set off after them. In a series of skirmishes, he ousted them from the eastern lands and then followed them into the west, finally bringing them to battle. He killed or captured the chiefs, scattered the tribesmen, and rescued many of the slaves. Those who had been freemen and women returned to their farms and villages, while Kemetu slaves found themselves back in familiar bondage. The captured chiefs were publicly executed and the province was pacified.

  In the north, pirates raided the towns and villages, looting and burning, and even dared to sail up the branches of the Great River, almost as far as Per-Ramesses. The city guards turned out and sent soldiers on boats to harry the pirates, but the invaders refused to be drawn into battle, loading their plunder and quietly slipping out to sea and safety. Seti marched out from Men-nefer, meaning to bring the pirates to battle and claim a victory of his own, but the pirates were Sea Peoples, and easily eluded the legions. Kemet had few ships capable of sea travel at their disposal and most of their captains preferred to hug the coastline. Seti sent his ships north along the coast searching for the pirates, and his land-based troops marched alongside, but failed to find their base. The Sea Peoples vanished over the horizon into the Great Sea, only to reappear somewhere else and attack an undefended town.

  The ancient capital of Waset also had its troubles, though these were mostly internal. Messuwy, now living in Khent-Min to the north of the city, had maintained close relations with Roma-Rui, the Hem-netjer tepy en Amun, and Setnakhte, the commander of the Amun legion. The three would meet from time to time, ostensibly for no better reason than friendship, though each of them had their own reasons for the association, and none of those reasons had anything to do with maintaining amicable relations.

  "Something must be done...and soon," Roma-Rui said. "Waset must resume its rightful place in the affairs of the kingdoms. Amun demands it."

  "Amun? Or you?" Messuwy asked.

  "In this, the god and I speak together."

  "Well, you can demand all you like, but I do not have the means to do anything."

  "You have the Amun legion."

  Setnakhte stirred from where he stared out of the window toward the open forecourt of the Great Temple of Amun. "That is not true," he said. "I command the legion."

  "Messuwy is the king's son," Roma-Rui said.

  "And without any power. Neferronpet is Tjaty in the south, and second only to the king. If he commands me, I must obey. With that proviso, I control the military might of Ta Shemau with my legion."

  "That will not always be the case," Messuwy said. "When I am king..."

  "If you ever become king," Setnakhte corrected. "Baenre has cut you off from the succession. You have been supplanted."

  "For now," Messuwy conceded. "But I will take care of that upstart brother of mine."

  "Who now has a son and heir."

  "A sickly son who could easily die."

  "And your son is crippled," Setnakhte said. "Is he any worthier to become a king?"

  Messuwy glared at the legion commander. "I can have other sons."

  "The same could be said of Crown Prince Seti."

  "Gentlemen, please," Roma-Rui interjected. "This bickering solves nothing. We have a common purpose."

  "Baenre is our anointed king," Setnakhte said quietly. "To move against him openly is treason."

  "He is an old man and in poor health," Messuwy pointed out. "He could die any day, and we must be prepared to seize control of the kingdoms."

  "That might be possible in Ta Shemau where the Amun legion holds sway, but what of Kush? And of Ta Mehu?"

  "Khaemter controls the Kushite legion," Messuwy said. "He will support me."

  "And in the north?"

  Messuwy shrugged. "When the army sees that the south is mine, they will forsake the boy. Mine is the better claim."

  "And if they do not?" Setnakhte asked. "Two legions against how many? Five? Six? We would be slaughtered."

  "We must recruit more men in the south."

  "Offering them what? Do you have gold we don't know about?"

  "I'm sure the coffers of Amun are rich enough to support the rightful king of Kemet."

  "Do not presume on the god's good will," Roma-Rui said sharply. "Amun can make a contribution, but the temple coffers are not bottomless."

  Messuwy smiled. "Find the men and I will equip them."

  "Say we find a thousand men...two even. We are still outnumbered two to one, and the northern legions are battle hardened after Perire."

  "Then I shall have to persuade some of the northerners to support me, won't I?"

  Setnakhte shook his head. "It is a very risky business."

  "Then I shall have to reduce the odds," Messuwy said. "What if the only choice for the northern legions was between Seti's sickly son and me? Who would they choose? An infant or a grown man used to command?"

  "But Seti..." Roma-Rui started, and then fell silent, frowning.

  "Will be taken care of," Messuwy finished.

  "How?" Setnakhte asked.

  "Best you do not know."

  Setnakhte nodded slowly. "Before or after the king dies?"

  "At the same time."

  "How can you possibly know that?" Roma-Rui asked. "Even if you...even if you had a hand in it, how could you know when the king would die?"

  "Unless he had a hand in that too," Setnakhte said.

  "You would dare?" Roma-Rui asked.

  "My birthright has been taken from me," Messuwy said. "I would dare."

  "Amun could not have a hand in killing the king," Roma-Rui stated. "It would shatter the Ma'at of the kingdoms."

  "But would you speak against me when I was proclaimed king? You know I would make Waset my capital, and Amun my god."

  The Hem-netjer smiled. "I would not speak against any man who put Amun back into his rightful preeminent place in Kemet."

  The conversation turned to less controversial topics and
after a while Setnakhte excused himself and left. He made his way down into the temple forecourt from the Hem-netjer's quarters, and thence out onto the bustling streets of Waset. Soldiers saluted him and civilians crossed the road rather than pass close by the commander, but Setnakhte did not see them. He was wrapped in his own thoughts until he arrived back at his own house, a modest two-storey mud brick affair a javelin cast from the rear of the army barracks.

  A servant ran to fetch water, and another disrobed him, while a third ran to inform the mistress of the house that her husband had returned. She sent servants to prepare food and drink and then waited until Setnakhte appeared, the dust and sweat of the day sluiced from him, and dressed in a fresh linen kilt.

  "Welcome, husband. I have sent for meat and beer."

  "Ah, Tiy-merenese, you anticipate my every need."

  Nothing more was said until Setnakhte had eaten his fill of the beef and fresh baked bread, washing it down with strong beer. He pushed the plate away and leaned back, closing his eyes.

  "What has happened, husband?"

  Setnakhte opened his eyes. "What makes you think something has happened?"

  "I know you, husband. You come from Amun's house to which you were no doubt summoned, and you return with a scowl upon your face before which the gods themselves would quail."

  He grunted. "And how is it that you know where I was?"

  "It is where you go every time that Messuwy comes to the city."

  Setnakhte sat up. "Who else knows?"

  "I imagine anyone observant, husband. I don't like Messuwy; for all that he's the king's son. You would do well to stay clear of him."

  "As you say, he is the king's son. I can scarce refuse him."

  "You are a king's son too."

  Setnakhte smiled. "And you are a king's grand-daughter, and the daughter of a Kushite prince, but none of this makes us his social equals. He beckons, I come." He shrugged. "It is the way of things."

  "What do you talk about?"

  "Do not ask, wife."

  "Nevertheless, I am asking. You keep company with a disaffected prince and a high priest who openly despises a king who puts his faith in another god before Amun? These are not safe companions, husband."

  "I know. Now put this out of your head, Tiy."

  "I cannot. Not when they might be a danger to you. What did you talk about today that made you so solemn when you returned?" Setnakhte just shook his head, so Tiy-merenese continued in a low voice. "You know I am discreet, husband, and completely loyal to you and our son. I have sent the servants away so that none may overhear us. What did these men want of the commander of the Amun legion?"

  Setnakhte looked at his wife of ten years for a long moment and then nodded. "Not a word outside this room. If this was carried to the king I would lose my life and I have no doubt little Ramesses would suffer too." He hesitated, as if changing his mind, and then sighed. "Messuwy and Roma-Rui plot against the king and the Crown Prince, and would involve me."

  Now it was Tiy-merenese's turn to contemplate her partner. "In what way?"

  "Messuwy means to become king and move the capital back to Waset and the preeminent worship of Amun. I am to lead the Amun legion in support of him."

  "What have you told them? You haven't said that you would do it?"

  "I...I have intimated that I am not against the idea."

  "You cannot do this, husband."

  "What am I to do? If I refuse, then at the very least I will be removed and someone else put in my place that will support them."

  Tiy-merenese frowned but remained silent.

  "On the other hand, if I support them I am guilty of treason. If they win, I will be rewarded, but if they lose..." Setnakhte shook his head.

  "Can they win?"

  Setnakhte shrugged. "If it was a straight fight against the northern legions, then the south would fall in a heartbeat. It won't be that straightforward, however. Messuwy means to kill the king and the Crown Prince together, and then launch his rebellion. Given the fact that he is the king's eldest son, the legions may accept him. Seti's infant son is the only real alternative."

  "You are half-brother to Baenre. You have a claim too."

  "A better one than Messuwy, perhaps, but not to Seti's son. My mother was only a concubine. No, Baenre is the king and Seti is his legitimate heir, not Messuwy."

  "So what are you saying, husband?"

  Setnakhte smiled at his wife. "Talking with you always clears my mind. I know now I cannot join forces with Messuwy and Roma-Rui. I must refuse to rebel, no matter what the consequences."

  "There will be consequences if you know too much for their safety, husband. You cannot be seen to openly oppose them, not yet."

  "But if I don't, I risk being branded a traitor with them. And what if either the king or Seti are not killed? Their vengeance will be swift and deadly."

  "Who else is in this plot?" Tiy-merenese asked. "Who of note in Waset or the south?"

  "Khaemter, King's Son of Kush, and a handful of minor nobles."

  "Tjaty Neferronpet?"

  "No. There is little love between him and Messuwy, or Roma-Rui for that matter."

  "Then you must take him into your confidence. Tell him what you have learned. Make sure he understands the danger."

  "Once Messuwy knows I have betrayed him..."

  "He must not know. Assure him of your support, and talk to Neferronpet in secret. You will have done your duty to the king and his heir, yet if by some chance Messuwy succeeds, you will appear to be his friend."

  Setnakhte scowled. "And where is my honour in all this? I swore an oath to Baenre."

  "Of what use is your honour if you are dead, and your family with you? Talk to Neferronpet."

  * * *

  It took a few days to arrange, because Setnakhte could not be seen with Neferronpet. One of the feasts of Amun came round and the populace flocked to the Great Temple of Amun where Roma-Rui and the other Prophets of the god oversaw the ceremony of bringing out the ancient statue of Amun and its adoration by the citizens of the god's city. Neferronpet did not attend the main ceremony, preferring to worship alone in one of the smaller temples to the god on the Western Bank.

  The interior of the temple was dark, with only a few fluttering flames giving the appearance of movement to the god in his niche. A score or so of worshippers were present, mostly workers from the Great Field, and a few poor peasants who could not afford the ferry passage over the river. Neferronpet sat on one of the stone benches and listened to the droning prayers of a few junior priests, only glancing sideways when a figure loomed in the darkness and sat down beside him.

  "Not in the Great Temple, Tjaty?" said a low voice.

  Neferronpet turned to stare at the shadow on the bench beside him. "Who are you?"

  "Surely the Tjaty of Ta Shemau would be welcomed by Roma-Rui?"

  "Who are you?"

  "In a moment. You are not a friend of the Hem-netjer, are you?"

  "It is no secret we have our differences." Neferronpet stood up. "If you will not tell me who you are, I will leave you to worship the god alone."

  "Please sit down, Neferronpet. I must talk to you about a plot to kill the king."

  Neferronpet stared at the man sitting in deep shadow. "Are you serious? If so, come and see me at the palace."

  "If I do that, I am a dead man." The shadow shifted, looking around in the shadows of the inner temple for any eavesdroppers. "I am Setnakhte, commander of the Amun legion. Hear me now, I beg you."

  "Setnakhte? What is this? You are a friend of Roma-Rui and...others."

  "Not a friend. Nothing more than an associate. One that they have taken into their confidence."

  "Why would they confide in you?"

  "I command the Amun legion. They will need military support."

  "Who is 'they'?"

  "Roma-Rui, Khaemter the King's Son of Kush and..." Setnakhte leaned close and whispered, "...Messuwy...and others."

  "And you say they mean to..
.?"

  "Yes."

  Neferronpet sat in silence for a time, as the prayers of the priests droned on in the darkness. "You have proof?"

  "No."

  "But you know when...and how?"

  "No."

  "Then you have nothing."

  "Nothing will get the king killed."

  "What do you want me to do about it?"

  "I don't know...something...anything. You are Tjaty, you have the ear of Baenre."

  "You want me to accuse the king's son and the Hem-netjer of Amun of treason, without any proof? Why would the king listen to me?"

  Setnakhte sighed and put his hand on Neferronpet's shoulder. "I don't know. I have done my duty bringing this to you. Act on it, I beg, Neferronpet. Save the king and Kemet." He rose and withdrew from the inner temple, a shadow in the darkness.

  * * *

  Neferronpet sat in the darkened chamber for a long time, thinking. At length, one of the priests approached him to ask if anything was wrong. The ceremony was long over and all the other worshippers had left the temple. The Tjaty thanked the priest, saying only that he had been communing with the god. Then he left, making his way back to his offices in the western palace. Here, he sat and thought some more before taking up papyrus and ink brush, and committing his thoughts to writing. When he had finished, he read it through and called for a messenger, telling him, "Include this with the reports being sent to the king tomorrow."

  The messenger bowed and trotted off with it. Once it was in the small lambskin leather pouch destined for the king, the messenger forgot about it and went off in search of food and companionship before his journey north.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Year 8 of Baenre Merenptah