Pharaoh

by Wilbur Smith

  I looked at him sharply, uncertain if he was being sarcastic; but even in the light of the candles his expression was without cynicism. ‘Follow me then, good Nasla.’ The more I saw of him the more I liked and trusted him. I led him along the tunnel, considering the likelihood that we were the first persons who had passed this way in many centuries. To withstand the pressure of the water above us the construction of the walls had to be much more robust than elsewhere. The materials the ancients had utilized were baked red clay bricks, not the pretty ceramic tiles used nearer the surface. The joints between the bricks were so fine as to be almost invisible. I inspected them closely and found no leaks.

  I then studied the horizontal tunnel in which we stood, and compared its relationship to the shaft down which we had descended from the surface. As I had expected the tunnel seemed to run in the direction of the west bank and the fortress of Abu Naskos. However I had no magic fish to check this assumption.

  ‘Come along, Nasla,’ I ordered him and we set off along the tunnel. It ran almost dead straight for 310 paces which I counted aloud as I paced it out. The tiles beneath our feet were dry. The air in the tunnel was cold and ancient in taste and stuffy to breathe, but sufficient to sustain life.

  Then the floor of the tunnel angled upwards abruptly under our feet. Nasla looked at me enquiringly over the top of his candle flame, and I explained what was taking place: ‘We have passed beneath the river and reached the western bank. Now we are climbing. I expect we are heading for the foundations of the fortress. Of course that is only a guess, but look at the walls now.’

  The walls of this part of the tunnel were once again decorated with colourful ceramic tiles, indicating that the Nile water above us was shallower or even non-existent. There were no images printed upon the tiled walls, but they were covered with some type of flowing archaic script. I realized that these must be the inscriptions of the ancient builders. Probably they were memorials to their own genius and skill. I wasted no time in attempting to decipher them but hurried forward, anxious to learn where the tunnel came to the surface. One hundred and fifty paces further along the ascending tunnel we were brought abruptly to a halt. It seemed that the roof had collapsed in a solid rockfall. We could go no further. My disappointment was so intense that I had to express it in some unequivocal manner. I shouted an obscenity and drew back my fist to punch the solid wall of broken rock that confronted me.

  Nasla seized my elbow from behind and prevented me breaking all the bones in my right hand. I struggled with him briefly and then I capitulated gracefully.

  ‘Thank you,’ I told him. ‘I am grateful to you. You prevented me from doing further damage to the wall.’

  ‘That’s all right, my lord. I am accustomed to it. My brother Batur also has an extremely foul temper.’ He said it in such a friendly and pleasant tone that I was forced to press my forehead against the wall and close my eyes for a few seconds to control my burgeoning rage.

  Then I said in a tight whisper, ‘I think you had better say no more, good Nasla. But take me back the way we came. I need some fresh air. Otherwise one of us might die down here.’

  Let no one tell you that I am unable to control my temper. By the next morning I was almost completely recovered and I realized that it was only a temporary setback. I decided that I would need the benefit of Rameses’ good sense and judgement. I found him on the west bank of the river assisting Hurotas with the sapping works before the walls of Utteric’s fortress. I was delighted to find that Queen Serrena Cleopatra was by his side as I had hoped and expected she would be.

  She acted as my guide and led me on an extended tour of the siege works. I was amazed at the knowledge she displayed of the technique involved. By then it was time for the midday meal. We ate it together seated under the branches of a spreading elm tree from where we had a grand view over Utteric’s fortress and the field of battle. In the background lay the river and the four islands which had so much occupied me. At this distance they appeared to be insignificant, but they served to get our conversation going in the right direction. Rameses and Serrena were not aware of my preoccupation with the islands. I had a conflict of interest between them and Inana. They had no idea of my special relationship with the goddess, so I had to gloss over that part of my story, and attribute all my knowledge to the old ship’s pilot Ganord who had given me the first ceramic tile from the tunnels and shafts beneath the islands.

  At first the royal couple were only vaguely interested when I pointed out the four islands, but then I deployed my full skills as a raconteur and both of them rapidly became completely captivated by the mystery of them. When I neared the high point of my story Serrena wriggled around on her buttocks, barely able to contain her eagerness to reach the denouement, and even Rameses’ eyes glowed with anticipation. When I finally reached the point in my recital where my quest was cut short by the rockfall neither of them would at first accept that was how it ended.

  ‘What happened then, Tata? What did you do then?’ Serrena demanded.

  ‘Yes, Tata. Tell us what you found beyond the rock jam,’ Rameses joined in. ‘Or is all this make-believe? Are you just having a bit of fun with us?’

  When they finally accepted that it was a true account of what I had discovered they both wanted me to take them immediately to the island and its tunnel. I had some difficulty convincing them that it was only expedient to wait for darkness before we set off. We passed the time by discussing the underwater tunnel that stretched from the fourth island to the foundations of the fortress of Abu Naskos.

  ‘When you come to think of it, it was a rather fruitless and unproductive work by the ancients,’ Rameses suggested.

  Serrena turned on him immediately. ‘What do you mean, my darling husband? It was a magnificent undertaking!’

  ‘Magnificent?’ Rameses chuckled. ‘To build a tunnel from a man-made island in the middle of a mighty river to an underground destination? I would describe it as asinine in the extreme.’

  ‘You have missed the point entirely,’ she retorted. ‘The tunnel began on the east bank of the river where our original camp was situated. It passed below the surface of the Nile to all four of the man-made islands in succession – Fish, Bird, Otter and Fox – before it entered the foundations of the fortress that preceded Abu Naskos.’

  ‘Why?’ Rameses demanded. ‘Why did they build four islands?’

  ‘Because the Nile is too wide for less than that. The air in a single tunnel would become stale and poisonous. They had to let the tunnel breathe.’

  Rameses looked abashed. ‘What happened to the tunnel between the first three islands?’

  ‘Once the Old People went away it collapsed with age and neglect,’ Serrena explained sweetly.

  ‘Oh!’ he said. ‘I see!’ And so did I. I was pleased that I had not become embroiled in the discussion and been left as speechless as Rameses.

  There were six of us who made the crossing to Fox Island. Apart from the three of us I had decided to forgive Nasla his recent indiscretions and take advantage of his knowledge of the layout of the fortress and the islands. In addition we needed two ordinary sailors to guard the boat while we went ashore.

  We arrived at Fox Island two hours after dark and we went ashore immediately. Nasla had covered the entrance to the shaft with dead branches and other rubbish and this had not been disturbed during our absence. Now Nasla cleared this away and I led the rest of the party down the shaft, stopping only for Rameses and Serrena to examine the ceramic tiles and the images of desert foxes, which delighted Serrena particularly.

  When we reached the bottom of the shaft and crowded into the tunnel, I explained to the couple that we were now beneath the river. Serrena looked up at the roof so close above her head with a solemn expression on her face and then edged closer to Rameses and took his hand for reassurance. As I led them on along the tunnel I told them that this was 310 paces long, almost the same as the width of the river above us. Then when the floor of the tunnel inclined up
wards I explained the reason for this: ‘We have now reached the west bank and we are rising up towards the shore.’

  Rameses smiled and Serrena recovered her voice and pointed out the flowing archaic script that covered the walls from this point onwards. Then to my astonishment she began to translate it fluently into the Egyptian language.

  ‘Be it known to all peoples of this world that I, Zararand, King of Senquat and Mentania, hereby dedicate these works to the eternal glory of Ahura Mazda, the god of goodness and light …’

  Before I could prevent myself I blurted out, ‘What language is that, Serrena, and where did you learn to read and speak it?’

  Serrena broke off in confusion and glanced at Rameses. ‘I do not remember exactly.’ She was suddenly hesitant. ‘I have had so many different tutors over the years.’

  I was immediately vexed with myself. I had asked the question in haste. I should have realized it was part of her inherent memory as a divine, a residual echo from her previous existences which even she was unable to place accurately.

  ‘Probably your husband taught you.’ I made a joke of it and Rameses looked at me aghast. I winked at him and he grinned with relief and then burst out laughing.

  ‘I must plead guilty, Tata. Of course I taught her.’ He grinned. ‘I have taught her everything she knows.’ Serrena punched his shoulder and we all laughed. The awkward moment passed and I led them on along the tunnel, until abruptly we were confronted by the rockfall that blocked our way.

  I turned back to the three of them and spread my hands in a gesture of resignation. ‘This is as far as it goes!’

  ‘What has happened here?’ Serrena demanded.

  ‘The roof of the tunnel has collapsed in a rock jam,’ I explained. ‘We can go no further than this. It seems that everything beyond this point remains a mystery for ever.’

  ‘But can we not simply clear the fallen rocks away, just as the original miners must have done?’ Serrena wanted to know. Her bitter disappointment was eloquently expressed in the tone of her voice.

  ‘It’s a rockfall,’ I repeated. ‘There is no solid roof above it. It’s a death trap. If you go in there and try to clear it, it will collapse on you again …’

  Rameses brushed past me and went to kneel in front of the rockfall. He ran his hands over the intruded face, beginning at floor level and working his way to the top of the wall, standing on his tiptoes to reach that high. He worried a fragment of raw rock loose from the wall; then he thrust his hand into the aperture that it had left and groped upwards. Finally he pulled his hand and forearm free from the wall and turned back to me, holding the fragment in his other hand and proffering it to me.

  ‘No, Tata, for once in your life, you are wrong,’ he told me. ‘That is not a rockfall. It’s a rock filling. Look at the chisel marks in this chunk! I felt the roof above where I pulled it out. It is solid and unbroken. It was worked by man! It is a wall of packed rock and not a fall of rock.’

  I pushed past him without replying and went to the rockfall, deliberately referring to it in my own mind as such. I am taller than Rameses, so I did not have to stand on tiptoe to reach into the aperture that he had left. This time I did not hurry my examination. With an effort I removed two more pieces of rock from the top of the rockfall and examined them minutely. Indisputably they also had been marked by man-made tools. I then thrust my arm into the empty space in the wall which I had opened and felt for any joint in the rock roof above that point. There was none. It was solid. The tunnel had not been blocked by a rockfall; it had been deliberately sealed by men.

  I turned back to face Rameses and steeled myself. ‘You are right. I was wrong.’ Such simple words; so difficult to say.

  Rameses understood. He reached out and placed one arm around my shoulders and squeezed. ‘It seems that you and I have some more work to do,’ he said simply. He understood my foibles and tactfully made allowances for them. In that moment I loved him as much as one man can love another.

  We estimated that there was space in the tunnel for no more than twenty men to work at one time. However, we had absolutely no idea how long it would take us to clear the obstruction. We decided that to begin with we could have our workforce carry the loose rock back from the face and stack it along one wall of the tunnel. If this proved to be insufficient space then we would have to carry it up the shaft to Fox Island and then dump it into the river.

  There were other small problems to take into consideration. We did not know how deep below ground level we would be working, and how clearly the noise of our labours would be transmitted to the fortress above us. Nor did we have any idea how long it would take, and how twenty men and more could live, work and sleep in such a confined space for an indefinite period.

  ‘You will think of a way,’ Serrena told me blithely. ‘You always do, Tata.’

  After sixteen days even I was reaching the limits of my ingenuity and endurance. We discovered soon enough that the ancients had gone to great lengths to make a formidable project an almost impossible one. They had used a malleable substance similar to clay to bind the large rocks together; this had dried and hardened to a consistency which exceeded the rocks themselves in strength. These had to be broken into manageable pieces to be manhandled out of the rock pack. The noise of the flint-headed hammers was so deafening that the men had to plug their ears with cloth. These barriers had been alternated with an ingenious combination of pitfalls and rockfalls. Eight of our workmen were killed by these devices and several others were badly injured. Then abruptly, without prior warning, we found ourselves out of the tunnel and into a warren of small store-rooms and passageways.

  We searched this area eagerly but found that there was no ingress or egress from it. It had been sealed off entirely. I called for Nasla as the acknowledged expert on the structure and layout of the fortress of Abu Naskos which Rameses and I were convinced stood above this complex of dungeons. He was reluctant to give us advice without first consulting his elder brother. We agreed with him that this was a sensible course of action and sent him back to join Hurotas’ troops, who were still laying siege to the fortress. At the same time we dismissed most of our workmen, who had rendered such sterling service in breaching the many obstacles to reach our present position. We kept only five of them, who had proven themselves to be the most sensible and hardworking.

  Rameses, Serrena and I moved back up the tunnel to Fox Island and set up a temporary camp there while we waited for Nasla to return from his contact with his elder brother Batur. It took three more days for this to happen. Nasla had experienced difficulties in contacting his brother, but finally he had succeeded handsomely and the two of them had exchanged long coded messages over the walls of the fortress.

  The most important of these was that Batur had heard our efforts to break through the final barrier into the ancient store-rooms beneath the fortress. He had been thoroughly alarmed by these noises. However, Rameses and I had restricted the loudest and most noisy work to the hours after midnight when Utteric’s troops were asleep or at their posts on the battlements high above ground level. There had been no general alarm caused by the sounds of our subterranean labours, muted as they were by the intervening store-rooms and stone walls.

  The second most important news was that the two brothers had arranged means to guide us to the point where we would be able to make direct contact with Batur. It had become apparent that the maze of small rooms and passageways in which we had reached a dead end were part of the original creation of the ancient ruler, Zararand, King of Senquat, who had left his details inscribed on the walls of the tunnel.

  Centuries later, when the ancient Senquatian kingdom had either fled this very Egypt, or had been defeated and annihilated in battle, the fortress had been taken over by the Hyksos rulers. They were the ones who had built the present fortress over the ancient ruins. It was the Hyksos who had covered in and sealed off the original foundations and subterranean store-rooms in which Rameses and I now found ourselves trapped.
It became apparent to us that Utteric had no idea of what lay beneath his fortress of Abu Naskos.

  Having learned this, Rameses and I were eager to move back into the subterranean complex where Nasla could guide us to make contact with his brother Batur. It would then be up to Rameses and I to make the most of the element of surprise and rush out from Utteric’s own basement in force to fall upon him and send him and his minions to the perdition they all so richly deserved. This course of action would have to be coordinated closely with King Hurotas’ forces that were surrounding the fortress above ground level.

  However, Rameses’ and my first priority was to burrow our way through from the ancient store-rooms beneath the false floor into the building above occupied by Utteric and his troops. At the midnight hour agreed with Batur we returned with Nasla and our five workmen along the tunnel under the Nile and into the sealed-off basement. We all spread out through the abandoned store-rooms and passageways. I made the men extinguish their candles as there was no need to waste them. Then we settled down to wait in strict silence. The darkness was complete and the silence eerie. Even I was soon disorientated by this and I wondered how the men were faring. I considered shouting to them to give them comfort, but I thought better of it. They might have queried my own fortitude.

  I lost all sense of time but finally the abysmal silence was broken by the intermittent and barely audible sound of metal being tapped by metal somewhere above our heads. This was followed by a chorus of relieved cries and the flare of candles being relit by our waiting men. For the next hour or so we tracked the sounds down to their origin.

  This was where Batur on the floor above us had inserted a metal rod into a predrilled aperture part of the way through the roof and was beating on it with a smaller rod. At this point we drilled with an auger a small hole completely up through the roof. This was a tedious and exhausting job, for the roof slab was four cubits thick. Finally Nasla applied his ear to the aperture and recognized his brother’s voice whispering down it from the top end.