As we traversed the valley, I had cast my eyes over a number of possible locations. Directly across from his father’s tomb there was a prominent hill and I suggested he consider the site. He said a tomb built there would not face the sun and the location was rejected. Ramesses raised his arm as we walked the valley floor.
“You see that area?” pointing to a steep hill that almost reached the level of the terrace. “That is where I wish to be interred, at the foot of the incline. You see it faces the eastern horizon and my back will be guarded by the escarpment.”
To my comment his father’s tomb was not within sight, Ramesses replied “It is a small matter as I know he is with me always in this lifetime. Upon my death, we will be joyfully united and, together, we will talk of many things.”
Ramesses then indicated an insignificant portal set into the mound between Seti’s tomb and the place where he had decided to build his own tomb. We walked up to an entrance bare of any identifying marks. He signalled to one of the temple priests hovering nearby and a very flustered young priest joined us.
“To whom does this tomb belong?”
“Master, the archives record the tomb was built for Horhernakht, a military commander who served under King Horemheb but it was never occupied. We know not where the general was entombed and the tomb stands empty.”
“I wish to see the place.”
The now blushing priest replied “Let me call for some assistance as the doors need to be opened and the tomb inspected for unbidden visitors.”
He referred to the deadly cobras infesting the valleys. The doors were badly split with parts of the lower sill broken off as they had been crafted from some cheap wood and the entrance by a snake, seeking a cool retreat, was a distinct possibility. The priest summoned two of the Royal Guards, who cast open the doors. A torch was ignited and thrown into the tomb. We had moved some little way back well clear of the entrance to allow the guards room to strike should a viper emerge.
Snakes do not defer to rank and even a king is wary of deadly serpents. Our precautions served us well as an agitated cobra slithered out of the entrance. The king, seeing some sport, grabbed a lance from one of his guards and threw it at the snake. His aim was true and the cobra was transfixed by its point. The guards entered the tomb with drawn swords, re-emerging after a few minutes to declare the tomb safe. We entered, accompanied by the priest and the guards who held their swords unsheathed. Unworthy of even a minor prince, it was a modest affair with a flight of stairs, a short corridor and a small chamber bare of decoration. The limestone was sound and the western sun shone directly into the tomb’s entrance.
“Sennefer, I will acquire this tomb for the internment of my children.”
“For how many shall I plan?”
He looked at me and smiled “For as many children as Min and Sobek allow my seed to fall on fertile ground and spawn a regal multitude.”
“I doubt if this valley is large enough to accommodate so many.” I responded in good humour. Little did I know the tomb, which he subsequently limited to his male progeny, would be lavishly enlarged many times and become a small necropolis in itself. Throughout my service to the king, I oversaw the excavation of a subterranean edifice that ultimately housed over one hundred crypts, seventy storerooms and shrine chapels, a vast pillared hall and extensive corridors. We left the small tomb and moved towards the narrow cleft in the hills marking the entrance to the necropolis, where the king halted and looked at me keenly.
“Sennefer, you must begin work on my tomb as soon as possible.”
“Master, you have seen but twenty two inundations. The gods favour you with good health and a sturdy body. Your queen is with child again. No war clouds threaten the kingdom’s peace and Maat spreads her benevolence throughout the land. You have commissioned many new works and your building programme is already heavy.”
He smiled “Are you not equal to the task? Perhaps I should be looking for a more vital architect? You have only seen twenty four inundations, your wife is also with child and through your efforts, my building programme is well managed.”
“You mock me, Master. My shoulders are broad and there is still room on my drafting table for a few more commissions,” I said returning the smile “but why do you hurry to see work on your tomb commence?”
He laughed “May I remind you that a true servant of the crown would hesitate before he questioned the desire of a king. I see I must explain everything to you as though you were a child. Last night I dined with Nebwenenef who told me many of the tombs of my forebears had to be completed in great haste when their intended resident prematurely passed into the Afterlife. The modest size and lack of adornment of my grandfather’s crypt is, apparently, not exceptional. Nebwenenef disclosed that several of the tombs were far from complete at the time of the king’s internment and were partially deficient in the liturgical scenes necessary to ensure the king’s soul was comprehensively instructed on his voyage to eternity. You saw yourself the inadequate nature of the tombs of my grandfather and Horemheb.”
“A rare admission of his predecessor’s imperfections by your spiritual guide, Your Majesty.” The high priest and his acolytes had remained behind at the tomb of Seti, leaving the king and I to walk back to our chariots alone save for the small squad of Royal Guards.
“He assured me all necessary rituals would have been performed during the temple ceremonies and at the grave itself but the much reduced size and number of chambers and corridors did not permit a full exposition of scenes from the various Books of the Dead.”
“He mentioned one record indicates Tutankhamen’s tomb is but four cramped chambers with his earthly goods not arranged in a manner pleasing to a king, even one as unworthy as Tutankhamen. The wall decorations were far from complete and the king lacked guidance from the essential depictions in the Books of the Dead his spirit would crave. Of course, Tutankhamen was so childish I wonder if his soul knew how to follow the most simple of directions for his meeting with Anubis and Osiris.” said Ramesses with a smirk. “I have always thought Osiris looked down upon the child, recognised the royal lineage badly served and took Tutankhamen to his bosom early before any further mischief could upset the kingdom. The madness which King Akhenaton and his vain, stupid wife, Nefertiti, visited upon the realm must have carried through to Tutankhamen. The product of their tainted union was himself impotent and bereft of the slightest signs of majesty.”
We reached our chariots and drove to the top of the escarpment where Ramesses halted and looked across the plain stretching out to the river banks. In the distance, pennants at the temples fluttered in a slight breeze atop their gilded masts. Work advanced steadily on his mortuary temple as an army of masons prepared the stones for the pylon, columns and principal chapel. Already the outer walls had been raised up. The royal barque lay at its berth awaiting our arrival for the trip to the city. We could see flocks of geese and wild fowl resting amongst the papyrus clumps along the river’s edge. Stands of palms and fruit trees softened the flatness of the terrain and herds of cattle grazed in the river meadows. Out on the river, a fleet of barges sat low in the water waiting to discharge their cargos of limestone. At the quays adjacent to the construction site, gangs of sweating labourers toiled under the blistering sun, hauling masonry blocks off a row of moored vessels and up to the temple precinct.
To minimise the weight carried on river transports, statues, obelisks and other sculptured objects were almost completely executed at the quarries before they began the long voyage to monuments under construction. Centuries ago, a highly efficient system had been devised to discharge barges carrying the semi-worked blocks. When barges attained their destination, their captains manoeuvred them into bays set at right angles to the river. These inlets were designed to just allow the vessel entrance with the assistance of gangs who pulled the barges into their final mooring. Barge keels are almost flat, allowing them to settle on the bottom of these inlets when they were being either loaded or discharged with t
heir heavy burdens. Stout cedar beams are placed on each side of the barges and the blocks levered up onto these timbers.
After an object had slid down the beams to the quay, it was dragged onto wooden sleds or rollers and then hauled away by teams of men, each assisted by boys pouring a slurry of water and fine sand under the carriage runners to reduce the friction between the ramp’s surface and its load. Long ramps of packed limestone ran from the quays to the mason’s yards. Over time, the surface of a ramp became almost finely polished. The chanting of haulage teams as they dragged their burdened sleds is one of the joys of a building site as the monotonous intonation produces an almost hypnotic effect on the listener.
Throughout my apprenticeship, I attended the unloading of a number of very large stone sculptures from river craft. My Master took me to see this activity as he said one day, if I was diligent, I too would be responsible for the movement of massive masonry, colossal statutes and the most difficult of all worked stone – the obelisk. Obelisks were transported on long, wide-beamed water craft and specially strengthened barges carried statues already mounted on sleds sitting athwart the deck.
Heavy palm fibre ropes bound the cargo to the sleds and where the bindings touched polished surfaces, pads of woven papyrus and cloth were placed under the restraints to prevent damage. Masonry transports are very broad and have stout beams fitted crosswise to their length on which sat the burdened sleds. Transverse beams fit flush into gunwales so there is no hindering lip to overcome when a sled is dragged onto the slip timbers fitted into the vessel’s side, making it an easy task to drag the loaded platform to the side of the barge and down onto the berth. When first I watched this process, I was amazed at how quickly these tasks were accomplished. My Master said that builders and watermen had mastered this activity over the centuries and it was rare to experience any mishaps. More masonry was lost on the voyage through vessels capsizing or breaking their backs, than during the loading and discharging operations.
Ramesses enquired, ‘How many bricks must be made to build the compound wall?” I told him that several million were required, pointing out the brick yards that occupied every open space around the Ramesseum. Hundreds of men scooped up the alluvium, mixed it with water and shredded papyrus stems, then pressed the sticky mass into wooden moulds with their hands and feet. When each brick was turned out to harden in the sun, it was stamped with the royal cartouche. Hundreds of thousands of these bricks lay in serried rows around the brick yards and, as each batch of bricks was deemed dry enough to lay, labourers loaded them into hods for delivery to the walls. The air rang with the chanting of stone haulers, the ring of bronze tools on stone, raucous laughter and chatter from the multitude toiling under the sun. Occasionally, flocks of wild fowl rose in clouds in search of less disturbed waters.
Ramesses watched the site for a few moments. “You manage your work well. There is obvious organisation in the project and I must commend you as construction flows very efficiently. Your progress exceeds my expectations.”
I made an affected bow, my arms outstretched in obedience, my head lowered. The king laughed, “If your bow any lower, I shall expect a plea for more money, more men or some such impossible impost upon the royal purse.”
A grim look replaced the smile. “I see war on the horizon. As the commander of our army, I must soon lead our forces into battle and, even though I have the god of war, Montu, at my side, it is only reasonable to countenance the possibility of my death on the field of combat. It is for this reason I urge speed in the building of my tomb. I have to plan for all things both fortunate and otherwise as my agents in the north bring news that does not portend well for our future. King Muwatallis of the Hittites strengthens his alliance with the peoples further to his south and west. Whilst this may be of little immediate concern to Egypt, I also receive reports that the forges in the Hittite kingdom resound with the shaping of more weapons of iron.”
Ramesses had already conducted a minor excursion against a small but militant band of marauders who had settled on some islands just off our coast. The invaders were easily defeated in a combined naval and land engagement with the survivors impressed into our army, as they had proven to be tenacious warriors.
“I am confronted with a political complication that may lead to an early war. A former ally of the Hittite king, Benteshina, ruler of the Amurru, makes overtures to me as he wishes to switch his allegiance from the Hittites to the Egyptians. For the moment, I remain cautious as my emissary, Amenemipet, believes the Hittite king receives this news with ill grace and may seek to punish Benteshina. King Muwatallis may then attempt to bloody our noses in reprisal.”
With this insight into foreign affairs in mind, we mounted our chariots and drove towards the barque waiting to convey us across the river. Once aboard, he and I moved to the bow where we could continue our discussion in privacy.
“I have no particular thoughts about my tomb other than it should be large enough to accommodate an appropriate level of funerary accoutrements and personal possessions to satisfy both the god’s and my needs. I have asked the high priest to meet with you at an early moment to advise on the design and adornment of the tomb.”
“Ramesses, I have already gathered every available record on the construction of the earlier royal tombs, though a search of temple archives yielded meagre results. Apparently, it is an unwritten tradition that all documents, plans and diagrams retained in the royal architect’s office are despatched to the temple after the completion of a tomb, where they are destroyed. Nebwenenef spoke to me earlier today and we meet again in two days to begin the design. With your consent, Meketre, the builder of your father’s tomb will join us. I will submit drawings of the tomb architecture for your approval well before we open the rock face.”
Ramesses nodded in agreement. “Meketre will be a valuable advisor. I have another commission since you appear to have much free time. You must also build a tomb for my Queen, Nefertari, in the necropolis reserved for the royal families. She has borne one child but one cannot foretell if any wife will live to a mature age. The goddess Hathor blesses women with fertility but Osiris reaps a heavy harvest amongst our women. I wish the queen’s tomb to be the most beautiful that can be conceived. Even though she recoils from the prospect of her death, I have asked Nefertari and the high priest to work closely with you on ornamentation befitting her rank and my devotion.”
I had been introduced to the queen at the enthronement ceremony. Nefertari is exceptional in her beauty; a diminutive and graceful woman with the sloe-eyes of an antelope, a ready smile on her roseate lips and, when she walks, one is reminded of a gazelle’s dainty elegance. Ramesses married her before his coronation and the union had produced a son, Prince Amunherkhepeshef, and another child quickened in her womb. Beyond doubt, theirs was a marriage of love rather than of political convenience or dynastic ambition.
The Great Place and vale of the royal families are not conjoined and they lie at some considerable distance from each other. The Place of the Kings is approached by a long roadway built on an axis following the course of the sun. When the king’s funeral party makes its mournful progress towards the valley it was symbolically the first stage of the king’s voyage into the sunset and his ultimate meeting below the western horizon with his judge, Lord Osiris and his father, Amun.
The burial ground for the royal families is to the north of the king’s valley. The necropolis’ formal title is Ta-set-neferu, meaning the Place of Perfection and this sanctified ground is reserved for the wives and progeny of royal families and members of merit from the nobility. It is much more open, laying as it does in the wide sweeping embrace of a depression at the foot of the plateau, devoid of the steep escarpments and cloistered atmosphere of the pharaoh’s valley.
A roadway running behind the great mortuary temples leads directly to Ta-set-neferu where its few tombs are not screened from public gaze. Royal family members do not share the eminence of a king so their burial sites are not accorded the
same reverence or import which is acceded to a pharaoh. Only Queen Hatshepsut, after declaring herself king, granted herself the right to be buried amongst the pharaohs.
Ramesses did not hold certain aspects of Queen Hatshepsut’s character in high regard. After he offered up devotional prayers to the queen outside her tomb, he drew me aside, so as not to offend any of Nebwenenef’s sensibilities, and said in a low voice,
“I take no issue with a female becoming the ruler of Egypt. Hatshepsut was not the first woman to hold the regency for an immature heir, nor was she the first woman to be a ruling queen. What is incomprehensible, and causes me some amusement, was a queen declaring herself a king. I have in my mind an image. The queen sits in audience attended by her vizier, court officials, big strapping guards, towering Nubian fan bearers and priests of every level with not another woman in sight. Hatshepsut, wearing the clothing of a man save for a bodice, rises from her throne and addresses her retinue. “Gentlemen, I have thought much on this matter. I carry the flail and crook, I wear the beard on my chin and the crown upon my head. From this day forth you will address me as ‘King’ and no longer as ‘Queen.’”
Hiding their smiles, they bow low in obedience for she is pharaoh whose wish is a command. Her vizier is the first to raise his head. He glides to her side and, embarrassed, whispers in her ear. “Ma’am, perhaps it would be a little easier for us to accept you as a man if you took some precautions. Your left breast has slipped out of your bodice.”
The king roared with laughter in which I joined, not a little concerned that laughing at a ruler, male or female, could cause grievous offence. Ramesses had an ability to intuit my thoughts. “You are safe, Sennefer. Hatshepsut usurped her power by abusing her regency and declaring herself ruler. She was never Horus on Earth no matter how much she tried to associate her reign with the approbation of the gods. The best parts of her reign are the buildings she left us. Her mortuary temple is very graceful, don’t you think?”
The Golden Falcon Page 14