Ramesses put his forefinger under my chin and raised it. His eyes met mine. They held sympathy, not anger. “Does my brother know?”
“Pentawere sentenced my husband to death, Majesty.”
“And you took him as lover in spite of it?” Ramesses asked, shocked.
So he’d heard the malicious rumors about our relationship. “We’re not lovers, Majesty. We’re two people in love,” I corrected. “Were.”
“I see.” He sounded unconvinced.
“Whoever had charge of the Great Kenbet would have done the same. It happened to be Pentawere. If my husband hadn’t robbed Pharaoh’s tomb he’d still be alive. It was his fault he was executed, not Pentawere’s.”
“I don’t know if I could be so forgiving,” Ramesses said. “You must love my brother very much.”
“I do, Majesty. Did.” I had to put Pentawere out of my mind. But how? Just because he was married to Naqi’a now didn’t mean I’d stop loving him. I just couldn’t be with him anymore. I knew I’d continue to love him forever, but from afar. My future life would be so much easier if I could just cast my love aside and forget him. But that was going to be impossible.
We moved on, following a sharp angle in the path that led into a long U–shaped valley with hills rising steeply on three sides. I felt as if a burden had been lifted from my shoulders. Again, Ramesses had not reacted as I’d expected. But how could I expect any type of reaction from him? He was putting on a false face for everyone, pretending to love his father while plotting his death. In the whole land, only Pentawere and I knew the true depths of his depravity, and only because I’d been shown by the falcon god. Or, rather, the two of us and Kairy. Ramesses’ likely accomplice had to know too.
“This is Ta Set Neferu,” I announced, stopping once more and pointing. “To the north lie the Valley of the Dolmen, the Valley of the Three Wells, and the Valley of the Cord. There’s a small cave at the base of the western cliff straight ahead of us. When it rains – which hardly ever happens – water pours over the cliff like a waterfall into the cave and then flows down the center of the valley.”
“The cave represents the womb of Hathor, and the water fertility,” Ramesses said. “Burial in Ta Set Neferu is a physical symbol of rebirth in the Afterlife.”
I nodded. Apparently Ramesses was attuned to the gods. To a certain point. Killing his father was certainly going to upset maat in countless ways. He and his father were intermediaries between mankind and the gods. His father was Horus on earth. When he died he’d become Osiris and Ramesses would become Horus. Though, if Ramesses was executed as I’d seen in my dream, Pentawere would become Horus. Who knew what would happen to Ramesses after that? Would the gods cast him down from the heavens? Would they let him in at all? It was too complicated for me to figure out so I stopped trying. “There are about ninety tombs in Ta Set Neferu,” I said, “all carved by craftsmen from Ta Set Maat. Sad to say, some have been pillaged.”
“By men like your husband?”
“Yes, Majesty. Those who’ve been caught are dead too.”
Ramesses wiped his brow again and sighed and scanned the slopes. “Too many of my brothers lie in this valley already.”
“We have to climb the hill to visit them. They lie near the crest.” I pointed upwards and to the left.
We took an ancient deeply worn path that wound up the hillside from the valley floor. As we ascended, the breeze picked up and cooled us slightly. We paused several times to rest and take in the spectacular view. Djeme was directly to our right, east. The emerald cultivated strip beyond the canal covered the broad plain all the way to the silver river. To the north were the hills that guarded the Great Place. Northeast we could see Ta Set Maat tucked in its small valley.
Ramesses pointed to a spot on the far slope of the wadi about halfway between the western cliff and the entrance. “That’s the tomb I had dug for my wife, Duatentopet, years ago.”
“My husband decorated it.”
After a steep climb we reached the first of his brothers’ tombs, Pareherunemef’s, directly southwest of and high above the cave in the west rock wall. Limestone columns outlined the door; they and a limestone lintel were inscribed with Pareherunemef’s titles. The door itself was sealed shut.
“He was my father’s charioteer and had charge of the royal stables, in Pi–Ramesses and here in Djeme,” Ramesses said. “His mother, Minefer, shares his tomb. She gave Father five sons. And one daughter, my wife.”
“When I was young I went with Grandfather all the time to visit Pareherunemef to arrange the delivery of manure to fertilize Pharaoh’s gardens. Every single visit he lifted me atop a horse and led me around the courtyard in front of the stables. I’ve never forgotten his kindness. I grieved when he died, Majesty.”
Ramesses barked a command and one of the butlers hurried to us. He opened his linen sack and spread its contents on the small altar just outside the tomb’s door. I knelt. Ramesses recited the appropriate spells, then lit the food on fire. He added incense. Sweet smoke wafted to the heavens. I added my prayers to his, clutching my talisman.
Sethherkhepshef’s tomb was only a few steps away. We repeated the ritual there, then proceeded a few more steps to Khaemwaset’s.
As the servant prepared the offerings Ramesses reflected on his half–brother. “He was my eldest brother, Tyti’s firstborn. If he’d lived he’d have ruled the valley instead of me. He filled many roles – fan bearer, sem priest, and finally Greatest of Craftsmen at Mennefer, the most powerful priestly position in the land, overseer of all other high priests. He took up those roles when I was young and so I didn’t know him as well as I would have liked.”
Meryamen’s tomb was a difficult hike from Khaemwaset’s. The trail curved from southwest to north, the tomb itself directly west of and high above the cave I’d earlier pointed out to Ramesses. We had to clamber up and down five small slopes and ravines to reach our destination. Again we repeated the ritual.
Amenherkoshef’s tomb was only a few minutes walk north. From a bit of flat ground in front of its entrance we could see directly down the center of Ta Set Neferu, all the way to Djeme and the river beyond.
“Amenherkoshef picked out this spot,” Ramesses said. “He wanted to enjoy this view for eternity. I loved all my brothers, Neset, but Amenherkoshef commanded my cavalry. We were very close.”
“Is that why you named your son after him, Majesty?”
“It is. We roamed the North together for years, Neset. I miss him every day. I’m curious to see the decorations – I’m told they’re spectacular.”
A steep set of stairs led downward into the hill to the tomb’s dark entrance. The stone was brighter than at any of the other tombs, for it had been excavated more recently.
“Your brother’s not actually buried here, Majesty,” I informed him. “He lies in your grandfather’s tomb in the Great Place.”
“I know, Neset. Father feared robbers. For now, Amenherkoshef rests in the tomb originally prepared for Tawosret, Great Wife of the second Seti. As you said, the tomb she shares with my grandfather Setnakhte.”
I couldn’t help laugh. “Majesty, the workers in Ta Set Maat went on strike over the excavation of this very tomb. A strike Pentawere settled for love of me. And then it wasn’t even used!”
“That’s ironic.”
“I remember my grandfather’s father, Kanufer, telling me how he chipped out Tawosret’s cartouches in her tomb and replaced them with your grandfather’s.”
“Because she overstepped her authority and claimed to be pharaoh in her own right?”
“That’s my understanding, Majesty.”
“It must be unusual to reuse a tomb,” Ramesses said.
“Not necessarily. It’s rumored that many bodies were shuffled about in the Great Place after the heretic died and Pharaoh Tutankhamen returned his court to Waset. Supposedly the tomb of the second Amenhotep was reopened to receive the body of his great wife, Tiye. The heretic and his wives and daughters we
re moved from Akhetaten and either placed together in one tomb or apportioned among several. Some claim that when Pharaoh Tutankhamen died some of those tombs were reopened and the bodies either destroyed or deprived of their identities. But a flash flood during the reign of Pharaoh Ay sealed many tombs in the lower level of the Great Place under a deep layer of mud and rock, so their entrances are no longer visible. No one remembers where they are.”
By now Re was directly overhead.
Ramesses ascended the steps. “Join me in the shade while my butlers lay out food. After we eat we’ll explore.”
A limestone wall thrust up some feet from each side of the steps and we sat side by side, our backs against the northern wall, shielded from the sun’s rays. As the butlers emptied sacks and filled plates I turned to the right and looked out over the vista. The view was spectacular. The whole valley between the eastern and western deserts lay before me, some portions obscured by hills. The river itself and its emerald border simply disappeared north and south into the haze of distance. The desert too was obscured in its farthest reaches by windblown sand. The tips of gold–clad obelisks in Ipet–Isut shone like beacons.
Butlers placed plates before us and moved a discrete distance away. As we ate Ramesses questioned me about the tomb. “You said your father helped construct it?”
“He excavated it. Two gangs worked on this tomb, Majesty, as they do on all tombs, a left and a right, each with a dozen workers headed by a foreman. Once they’d dug it into the hillside other craftsmen smoothed the walls, covered them with a layer of plaster, drew images, and painted them.”
After Ramesses and I finished our food and wine he rose. A butler handed him a bowl with a lit linen wick.
“Just like tomb workers use,” I observed.
He ordered the butlers to return to Djeme. Mayernu went with them; Kairy remained on guard a short distance away. More proof he was a favorite. Ramesses descended the steps. I followed. We entered the tomb’s first chamber. It was long and narrow and angled downward. The ceiling was only a few feet higher than our heads. The corridor opened into an antechamber with a smaller chamber to its right. I caught my breath at the magnificence of the images and the brilliance of the colors – blue, red, yellow, black, white. The figures and scenes were the finest I’d ever seen.
“The theme of my brothers’ tombs,” Ramesses said, “is Father introducing them to the gods. Usually gods are portrayed introducing the deceased to other gods, but Father wanted the introduction depicted in a new way. My brothers are all drawn as boys wearing the sidelock of youth. Each of them is shown taking a ritual journey, using the correct passwords, proceeding through the gates of the Underworld to eternal life.” Ramesses pointed to the first scene. “Here’s Thoth. And here’s Father, his hand joined to Isis wearing her elaborate headdress. Here’s Amenherkoshef carrying a fan, following Father, who’s censing before Ptah. Here they’re led forward by Ta–Tjenen, then by Duamutef, then Imsety, then Isis.”
I leaned forward and inspected the scenes closely. “Your father’s name is inscribed in the cartouche on his belt buckle… The detail is amazing, Majesty. And this elaborate blue and gold tail, and the patterned sleeves, and the gracefully draped kilt… I’ve seen Pharaoh and you and Pentawere wearing every single item painted on these walls. The master craftsman who drew these images must be very familiar with the royal family.”
“Here they’re censing before Shu, and here they’re led by Qebehsenuef and Hapy. And here they stand before Hathor.”
We moved nearer the burial chamber.
“Here Amenherkoshef is dressed as an Iunmutef priest, wearing a panther skin and claws,” Ramesses continued.
“The left and right walls contain scenes from the Spells of Emerging in Daytime,” I said. “Chapters one hundred forty–five and one hundred forty–six, I believe.”
“How do you…”
“All of us in Ta Set Maat know the spells, Majesty, from an early age. We work on so many tombs and coffins and funerary papyri.”
“In this chamber Father’s guiding Amenherkoshef through twenty–one gates, each protected by a genie.”
“Your father and brother have to recite these inscriptions written on the walls to the genies so they can pass through the gates,” I said. I held the bowl of oil close to one inscription and read it out loud. “This is the seventh gate. Here they must say, as they stand before it: ‘Make a way for me, for I know you. I know your name and I know the name of the god who guards you. Shroud Which Veils the Limp One, Mourner Who Wishes to Hide the Body is your name. Ikenty is the name of the doorkeeper.’”
We passed through the door at the far end of the chamber. Painted above it was a particularly beautiful scene of two gracefully–coiled serpents protecting the third Ramesses’ cartouches. Above them soared a winged solar disk. I noticed an empty earthenware bowl on the floor. No doubt left behind by one of the tomb workers.
The last chamber was undecorated. A sarcophagus lay in its center. Even though I knew it was empty I shivered.
“If this tomb is so fine, imagine what those of the Osiris–pharaohs must be like,” Ramesses murmured.
“I’ve been in your father’s, Majesty. It’s magnificent.”
“When?”
“I spent a day carrying water to the men excavating eight new storage rooms in his tomb a few years ago. Hay, a foreman who’d been in charge of the original excavation, gave me a tour.”
“I suppose I’ll see it when we lay Father there,” Ramesses said. “A very long time from now, I hope.”
“Locating your tomb in the Great Place will be one of your first duties as Pharaoh,” I reminded him. “Approving the plan, burying the foundation deposits, ordering its construction by the craftsmen in Ta Set Maat.”
We retraced our steps and exited the tomb. The breeze had completely died while we were inside and the sky had turned a weird greenish–yellow and the very air seemed charged. I paused on the top step and looked to the west. Great dark clouds roiled high in the sky. Bolts of pink lightning were practically raining onto the desert. Thunder rumbled, deep and dim. A storm was miles away but rapidly heading towards us.
“We’d better take shelter in the tomb until it passes,” I said practically.
“Surely we can outrun it to Djeme.”
“Have you ever been caught in a rainstorm at Waset, Majesty?”
“No.”
“This will be my third. They’re rare. They only last a few hours and affect a comparatively small area. But they can be violent and the downpour enormous. I’ve seen one fill a wadi in minutes and turn it into a seething river. I’ve seen what had been a bone–dry ravine suddenly alive with tumbling boulders, its sides ripped apart by too many cascades to count. This storm’s moving faster than it seems. We shouldn’t challenge it.”
“My Lady’s right,” Kairy concurred. He’d drawn near when we exited the tomb, his eyes on the western sky. “It came up very quickly, Majesty. It’s intensifying.”
“Then we’ll wait,” Ramesses decided. He sat down on the top step. “But we won’t go inside until the last minute.”
I nodded. “Some storms are legendary, Majesty, still spoken of in Ta Set Maat centuries later.” I settled beside him. “One, during the reign of Pharaoh Ahmose, destroyed the royal necropolis containing the tombs of the pharaohs of the house that preceded his. I’ve already mentioned the one during Ay’s time. But the most spectacular occurred late in the reign of Ramesses the Great. A huge storm much like the one approaching us swept towards the river from the desert, with drenching rain and tremendous and countless bolts of lightning. The accumulated water roared across the desert and when it reached the rim of the Great Place it plunged over in a maelstrom of foam and rock. The high slopes of the sacred valley turned into a mass of sludge and quickly oozed downward, completely changing the valley’s landscape. Floodwater gouged away the cliff at the valley’s head and carried limestone to the valley floor. Boulders as much as a dozen feet in di
ameter tumbled from the rim, gouging channels as they fell. Tons of rock and sand smashed and buried storerooms and workers’ huts on the valley floor thirty feet deep. It hid the entrances of the oldest tombs, likely smashed and soaked their walls and half–filled their corridors with rock and sand and water. Some of that water may still be there today, for all I know, since it has nowhere to go. Within days the thick layer of flood debris set as hard as rock. Fortunately, the doors of some tombs stood firm against the flood. Ramesses the Great’s tomb, which was under construction, was partly filled with debris and had to be redone.”
“Amazing!”
I nodded. “The rain stopped as suddenly as it had come, after only twenty minutes. But the damage had been done, not just to the Great Place but the whole valley in the Waset area. The plain alongside the river was inundated. Sheets of water dissolved the mud–brick houses of farmers and its force swept away countless people and animals. For weeks afterward bloated corpses and carcasses floated in the river. The water poured into tombs and lapped around temple walls for days.”
“I’m glad we didn’t run for it,” Ramesses said.
“Storms aren’t entirely destructive,” I assured him. “Once I saw a ravine filled with a torrent hours after a mighty storm struck on the desert plateau fifteen miles away. Before the rush of water the ravine had been completely barren. Two months later the streambed was entirely carpeted with desert plants. They attracted moths, whose larvae were feeding on greenery a month later. But only a few of the plants survived the hot summer months. Seeds in the desert sleep long before they’re awakened, Majesty. But in the Great Place no plants grow ever, not even after a storm. It’s no place for the living.”
Daylight faded as the storm neared, the dark clouds briefly lit by brilliant flashes of lightning. A sudden clap of thunder boomed and echoed in the narrow valley and I held my hands over my ears until the reverberations receded. If there was one thing I hated it was thunderstorms. Heavy raindrops began to patter down, just a few at first, then rapidly, peppering the thick dust. Ramesses and Kairy and I hurried down the steps to take shelter inside the tomb, and not a moment too soon. The clouds burst directly overhead and a virtual deluge poured down, accompanied by more lightning and thunder. I couldn’t see anything through the sheets of rain. The temperature dropped. In only a moment water began trickling down the steps into the tomb, wetting the corridor floor from side to side. We retreated farther into the darkness beyond the water’s reach. Without a lamp the increasingly dim point of light that marked the tomb’s entrance was our only reference point. I whispered a prayer to Meretseger and the falcon god and unconsciously gripped Ramesses’ arm, my fear outweighing protocol. He patted my hand reassuringly, found a dry place, then sat. I sat beside him, my left leg and arm pressed against his, my back against the tomb wall. Even though I’d dreamed about Ramesses being executed for killing his father, right now he seemed like a haven. In fact, he’d shown no sign all day of being the bloodthirsty man he must really be if he was going to commit patricide.
The Gardener and the Assassin Page 46
