Beauty of Re

by Mark Gajewski

  I half–smiled and wondered what Hori would think if he knew the circumstances surrounding that proclamation.

  “Anyway, for generations now a portion of the booty brought back by your ancestors from war has filled the coffers of Amun as gifts of thanksgiving. As a result, Amun’s temple owns vast fields, countless herds of cattle, slaves, flocks of poultry, even craftsmen’s workshops. It employs tens of thousands of farmers and other workers in the valley around Waset, as well as here in the temple precinct itself – policemen, doorkeepers, night watchmen, priests, scribes, sculptors, craftsmen, metalworkers, butchers, bakers, brewers, weavers, herders, fowlers, sailors, beekeepers among them. If you added up all the land in Kemet controlled by temples, it would be more than the king himself controls, though of course the king can utilize temple property, being divine himself – herself. Temple storerooms hold much of Kemet’s taxes and tribute – ostrich feathers, skin shields, elephant tusks, baskets of grapes, sacks of nuts, grain. The share of the riches that belong to Amun you control now, as God’s Wife.”

  “Besides caring for Amun each day, and overseeing my own estates, what will my duties be?”

  “To serve the god at festivals – the Opet, of course, and at those honoring Osiris, and at each new moon, and at the beginning of spring, and in honor of Isis at harvest time, and in praise of Thoth and Re.”

  “And the Beautiful Feast of the Valley, proclaimed anew by my mother today.”

  Hori nodded. “You can see why temples need so much land and resources, for in addition to regular daily offerings to the gods the quantities are increased for each festival.”

  “Those offerings include…”

  “Bread, beer, ox meat, cows, goats, gazelles, antelopes, geese and waterfowl, dates, grapes, figs, pomegranates, onions, leeks, garlic, honey, milk and wine, grease, oil, perfume, incense, lamps and wicks, wax, salt, natron, cloth, jewelry, doves, lettuce, cucumbers, squash, melons, raisins, fresh water, flowers, clothing and articles of adornment, cultic implements, royal insignia – practically anything manufactured in the Two Lands. Priests inspect the meat offerings by collecting the animal’s blood in a bowl and testing it both before and after offering it.”

  “The priests and temple workers consume the food after it is offered?”

  “Yes. There are many types of priests in this and other temples. The majority of them are divided into four phyles that rotate in month–long terms of service. So each priest serves in that role three months annually. They carry the divine image during processions. Some fix the time for daily rituals. When they aren’t serving as priests they fill administrative posts in the temple. Their wives are usually temple singers and sistrum players, also organized into phyles. They’re supervised by the high priest’s wife.”

  “Tell me about the types of priests.”

  “The lowest level are ‘wab’ priests, the most numerous, who we just talked about. Above them are lector–priests, who are responsible for maintaining the ritual books and reading from them. You can recognize them by the broad band they wear diagonally across their chests.” Hori eyed Nefer speculatively. “Can you read, Majesty?”

  I laughed out loud at the audacity of his question. “And write. Better than most scribes. Nefer’s been educated to be a king, Hori.”

  “Love writing,” Nefer recited. “Shun dancing. Then you will become a worthy official. Do not long for the marsh thicket. Turn your back on throw stick and chase. By day write with your fingers, recite by night. Befriend the scroll, the palette. It pleases more than wine. Writing for him who knows it is better than all other professions. It pleases more than bread and beer, more than clothing and ointment. It is worth more than an inheritance in Kemet, than a tomb in the west.”

  Hori seemed surprised that Nefer knew the injunction taught to all scribal students. “Excellent, Majesty.” He continued. “There are also sem priests, who play the role of oldest living son in the Opening of the Mouth ceremony and other burial rituals. They wear the sidelock of youth and a panther skin. The ‘Father of God’ are the priests who sprinkle the path with water during processions. At the larger temples there are prophets, from first through fourth grades. The first prophet of each god serves as his high priest. Prophets are responsible for the basic administration and functioning of each temple. They serve full–time.”

  “Hapuseneb is the high priest of Amun, my counterpart.”

  “Yes. The high priests of the three major temples – Ipet–Isut, Re’s at Iunu, and Ptah’s at Mennefer – have additional titles. Hapuseneb is the Opener of the Gate of Heaven, since he opens the shrine of Amun each day. Ptah’s high priest is the Greatest of the Masters of Craftsmen, and Re’s is the Greatest of Seers. But of the three, Hapuseneb is the most important. As Chief of the Servants of God of Upper and Lower Kemet he oversees the distribution of offerings to all the temples in the land. Occasionally he calls an assembly of representatives from each temple to meet with the king to receive his – her – instructions on cults and new construction, accompanies the king on journeys, celebrates the Heb–Sed festival, and discusses priestly problems, like revenue and repairs. There is no man as powerful in the land, except, of course, your mother the king, Majesty.”

  And Thut, I thought. How could Hori fail to mention the actual king?

  “And what do these priests do each day?” Nefer asked.

  “Aside from performing the god’s rituals, they all specialize in something, whether it be medicine, record–taking, architecture, or administration. My own specialty is astronomy.”

  “I’m fascinated by the heavens,” Nefer said excitedly. “I love to lay on my back along the river at night and gaze at the stars. I know that the gods live among them on the rim of the world. But beyond that, I know next to nothing. Will you teach me, Hori? I want to know all there is to know.”

  “I would be honored, Majesty.”

  Nefer jumped up from her seat. “Then we’ll begin this very night.”

  “As you wish.”

  Aachel sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. “Every time Nefer takes up a new subject,” she told Hori, “she’s relentless, consumed, passionate. She can’t help herself. She so loves to master a topic. I feel a little sorry for Mery and me, and you. Now that Nefer has adopted the study of astronomy none of us is going to get much sleep at night.”

  From the look on Hori’s face, I could tell he wasn’t going to mind one bit spending time in Aachel’s company.

  ***

  Nefer and I spent most of the next week with Hori and Seniseneb, getting accustomed to her new duties, while Aachel became acquainted with and organized the household staff, for Nefer had put her in charge of her quarters. At the end of that week, Senenmut appeared one morning to show Nefer around the workshops and estates of Amun’s temple. He was accompanied by Minmose, who was to be her steward; Samut, Overseer of Works at Ipet–Isut; and Amenemhat, the temple administrator.

  “Your mother the king has done a superb job managing Amun’s resources this past decade and a half,” Senenmut told Nefer as we left our quarters. “All of the god’s enterprises are better organized and more productive than they were under the oversight of any previous God’s Wife.”

  “With your help,” Nefer said.

  Senenmut chuckled.

  South and west of our quarters, which were in the midst of priestly houses outside the temple wall a little back from the bank of the river, a large building was under construction. We paused beside men making mud bricks. Dark–skinned Nubians were filling jars of water from the river and hauling them ashore and emptying them into a knee–deep pit of mud and wheat chaff. A second group was in the pit, using their feet and adzes to mix the mud to a proper consistency, their bodies practically covered with the mud. They looked to me like Retenuians, their hair blonde, stubble on their chins, some with blue eyes. Other men were filling reed baskets with the wet mud and hauling it to masons. They were emptying the mud from the baskets and filling molds and setting them in long ro
ws to dry in the sun.

  Samut pointed to porters trundling bricks towards the building. “Those bricks baked in the sun for two days, and now they’re ready to use. As long as we have dirt in Kemet, we’ll never lack for building materials.”

  We moved closer. The wall on the far side of the building was already complete, the one closest to us about half its height. A dirt ramp pressed against the wall, only a foot or so lower than its top. Men were dragging large rectangular blocks of limestone up the ramp and masons were lifting the stones and setting them in place.

  “As you can see,” Samut said, “the main section of this building is of limestone, and the auxiliary structures of mud brick. We laid the floor of this building, then the first several courses of stone for its walls and pillars. Once the wall became too high for the workers to lift the stones, we built dirt ramps on both sides of the four walls. We are using the outer ramps to drag stones for the next course of the walls. Once the roof is in place, craftsmen from the Place of Truth will stand on the inner and outer ramps and smooth and decorate the walls from the top down. We’ll gradually remove the ramps as they work.”

  “Everyone seems to know what they’re doing,” I observed. The work was going both smoothly and quickly as far as I could tell, every man bent to his assigned task with little direction from anyone.

  “They have much practice,” Minmose said. “We are constantly building new granaries and warehouses and houses and such as Amun’s estates expand, which they have done greatly under Her Majesty’s regency. Never has the god been so prosperous.”

  We followed Samut a little ways south to a huge mud–brick building. A long line of porters, sweating heavily, were carrying boxes and baskets inside, pausing at its entrance to have their burdens recorded by scribes.

  “This reminds me of the warehouses at Peru–nefer,” I told Senenmut.

  “It is a warehouse, where the portion of the king’s taxes apportioned to Amun are stored,” he said. He introduced Nefer to Sa–Menkhet, Scribe of the Seal of Amun, and Amenhotep, Overseer of the Magazine of Amun.

  “The taxes of an empire!” Amenhotep exclaimed. “Gold rings, grain, honey, cloth, beads, furniture, statues, shields, spears, quivers, necklaces, axes, pots, ostrich feathers, elephant tusks, baskets of grapes. We also receive pigeons and cattle and monkeys, though they clearly aren’t kept here.”

  I noticed great piles of tiger nuts. Their taste a cross between coconuts and almonds, when ground and mixed with water and kneaded in a three–legged trough into dough and then fried into “wah” they were one of my favorite treats. A man struggled past, burdened with a large earthenware jug of wine. Behind him monkeys scampered around piles of dom, trying to steal the sweet–tasting fruit.

  Samut led us to the adjoining flat–topped building. “This is the Double Treasury of Gold and Silver.” Several men were inspecting piles of metal before its door. “This is Djehuty. He is overseer of the treasury of Montu, overseer of the silver houses, and overseer of the gold houses. This is his son Mentunakht, and Amenmose, a scribe in the treasury of Amun.”

  “Each god wants to make sure he receives his due,” Senenmut whispered to Nefer.

  Beyond the treasury were a cluster of mud–brick buildings, some with smoke rising from them, some large with high walls and many rooms, some open–sided, with roofs of palm fronds laid across wooden frames.

  “These are the temple workshops,” Samut explained. “This is where most of the activities that keep the temple functioning on a day to day basis occur.”

  We followed him to one of the larger buildings. Rectangular blocks of stone were being dragged inside by men pulling on long ropes. Deep marks gouged the ground all the way from a quay on the river. The deck of the boat docked there held many more blocks. Porters were wrestling them into position to be lowered ashore.

  “This is the stone carver’s workshop.” Samut led us inside and introduced us to the master.

  The building was crowded, with carvers and apprentices working on blocks in all sizes and states of completion.

  Senenmut directed our attention to a two–foot tall statue of dark stone. I realized it was of Nefer and Senenmut and, like Nefer, bent to inspect it closely. Senenmut was posed like a scribe, with one leg folded under and the other pulled up to his chest, dressed in a knee–length kilt and shawl, with a shoulder–length wig. Nefer was on his lap, sitting perpendicular to him, her hair the sidelock of youth, adorned with a uraeus. She wore a cloak, and her right index finger rested against her mouth, another sign of youth. I saw how the statue combined the scribe’s pose with that of a nursing woman, making it clear that Senenmut was both learned and close to the royal family. The statue was nearly complete. The carver was in the process of polishing the final side.

  “It’s magnificent,” Nefer said.

  Senenmut smiled. He pointed to a cartouche carved on his shoulder on the statue. “Your mother’s name,” he said. “It will be the style from now on. All officials who create statues of their own will decorate them with your mother’s cartouche.”

  I wondered if that was to somehow convince themselves that Thut was not their king.

  I was drawn to a slightly larger than life–size statue of pink granite that clearly represented Hatshepsut and moved to it, followed by the rest. She was seated with her hands on her knees, wearing a short kilt. A nemes headdress spilled over a broad collar onto her bare torso. Her cheeks and chin were tapered, her lips slightly full, eyes almond–shaped. Her waist was narrow and her hips curved like a woman’s, but she also wore a king’s false beard. The statue was clearly an attempt to portray Hatshepsut with attributes of a male king. Hieroglyphs spelling out her title adorned the chair to the right and left of her legs. Those on the right had already been carved; those on the left had been drawn on the stone in ink.

  “It follows the model approved by Maatkare exactly,” Senenmut told the master stone carver, with satisfaction. “You have done well.”

  “Thank you, My Lord,” he beamed.

  The stone carver showed us into another room, where some statues were being carefully gilded with gold and others, mostly limestone, were being painted. I noted several limestone offering tables in one corner. In a third room seven sphinxes were being carved from limestone – “bound for the processional way” – the master said, each showing Hatshepsut with a beard and a lion’s mane, with her name in a cartouche under the beard. Three of them had already been painted; one was partially outlined in ink and hadn’t yet been carved.

  “I’ll be an old man before we completely line the processional way with these,” the master carver told Senenmut.

  We moved into a large walled yard, open to the sky. Towering blocks of red granite were surrounded by scaffolds there. Carvers were busily at work, carefully tapping copper chisels against the stone with wooden mallets.

  “These will be colossal statues,” the master carver explained. “They’ll stand before one of Her Majesty’s new pylons. The stone arrives on boats from the cataract quarries, and the blocks are dragged here. My men dress each block using strings and pegs to ensure they are square.”

  A man was writing an inscription on the back of one in ink.

  We spent the rest of the morning touring the various workshops, at each arranging for items to be created to decorate Nefer’s quarters.

  We watched a bead maker use a single bow to power three drills at once, making holes in beads. Craftsmen sat nearby, stringing the beads onto chains of gold to make collars and necklaces. I dipped my hands into baskets brimming with red and blue and green beads and let them run through my fingers in colorful cascades.

  Leather workers were making sandals and saddles and ropes and leather rolls for writing. One man stretched and softened leather on a three–legged post, while another stretched a skin and cut it into the proper shape. One man was cutting a piece of leather into a continuous spiral.

  “It’ll be used to rig a ship,” he explained.

  The scent
of sawdust came from the carpenters’ workshop. In one room men were making a shrine for a statue. They were heating glue in a pot over a fire and applying it to a strip of veneer, pressing the strip onto the shrine. Beside them, a cabinetmaker was smoothing the surface of a box with an adz. His carpenter’s square and dovetail jig were at his feet. Another man was sawing a plank lashed vertically to a pole, while nearby a man was drilling holes in a bed frame, keeping the bronze drill bit in place using a hand–held cup. I watched a workman turning the end of a chair leg into a lion’s paw.

  Several guards stood at the entrance to the next building, which was surrounded by a high wall. I heard the ringing of hammers on metal. “This is where craftsmen fashion gold and silver,” Samut said.

  It was hot inside. Piles of charcoal lay near several blazing fires. Beside them men pumped leather bellows with their feet.

  “Meet Kenamun and Wesy,” Samut said. “They oversee gold workers and sculptors for the Temple of Mut.”

  Kenamun stood beside a gold scale with the head of the goddess Maat atop the balance. A worker stood at his side, and a scribe. Wesy stood near the door, carefully observing all the craftsmen in the room.

  Kenamun placed a weight shaped like a bull’s head on one scale tray and then small bits of gold on the other until the scale was in balance. Another weight shaped like a hippo lay on the table. He handed the gold to the workman. The scribe recorded the man’s name and the amount on a leather scroll.

  “We track the amount given, and then weigh the finished product to make sure no gold goes missing,” Kenamun explained.

  We moved around the workshop, observing. A man was beating a ring of gold with a hammerstone into a thin sheet.