The Golden Falcon

by David C. Clark

  The day was proclaimed a public holiday and Thebans flocked to the river’s edge to greet their victorious king. Red and white pennants fluttered gaily from the electrum tipped poles set into the temple pylons and, for once, the air was free of the dusty haze that rose from thousands of workmen’s feet and mason’s chisels. With quiet amusement, I observed the impressive party of local dignitaries assembled at the king’s quay. The Governor of Thebes and his retinue mingled with a flock of temple priests led by the high priest. Nobles, heavily bewigged and wearing their whitest linen, preened like peacocks. A row of chariots, double banked and manned by charioteers, formed an honour guard. Ebony black stallions, coats gleaming in the sunlight from hours of grooming, snorted and pawed the ground in excitement.

  Behind the chariots, stood ranks of Egyptian and Nubian bowmen and formations of lancers, their bronze tipped spears glittering. Flanking them, muscular axemen rested their deadly weapons on their broad shoulders. Massed infantry, battle standards held proudly aloft and resplendent in their polished leather helmets and tan kilts, waited impassively.

  The royal flotilla approached with slow majesty. The barque carrying the king was in the van, driven forward by two banks of oarsmen. Their oars rose and fell to the sonorous cadence of the hortator’s wooden mallets - water dripping off the oars sparkling like shards of sun struck calcite. The barque’s slender stern post arched up in the form of a lotus blossom. The bow, which rose well out of the water, displayed beautiful inlaid bands of electrum and gold. Motionless under a pure white awning, the king sat enthroned, wearing his crown, the royal beard affixed to his chin and he held, in his crossed arms, the flail and crook, the symbols of his authority. Beside him, on a slightly smaller throne, sat Queen Nefertari, clothed in a leopard skin robe denoting her regal status. In a tented pavilion behind the queen, clustered young princes and princesses with their governesses. Behind the royal barque came the smaller, less ornate vessels carrying stores, furnishings and the impedimenta of the royal house in progress. Two fearsome war ships brought up the rear of the procession, their decks lined by members of the Royal Guard.

  The king’s barque was expertly manoeuvred next to the quay, gangplanks placed on board and Ramesses rose from his throne. Soldiers, instantly obedient to their officer’s command, snapped to attention and pharaoh, followed by his queen, walked onto the quay. He stopped and spread his arms outwards with a smile of pure pleasure lighting his face. Cheering lustily, the exuberant crowd pressed forward and had to be restrained by guardsmen. The king greeted the dignitaries in order of rank, inclining his head towards the high priest and then his party mounted chariots and whisked away to the palace. Once the royal party had sped off, I climbed down from my vantage point to be met by a junior scribe from the vizier’s office.

  “My compliments, Lord. I bear a message from the king to his architect. I am commanded to advise that Pharaoh Ramesses wishes you to attend him two days hence, three hours after Re has begun his passage across the heavens. The audience will be at the mortuary temple and you are enjoined to reserve the day at his pleasure. The king also commands I give you this.” He handed me a small wooden chest inlaid with ivory and ebony.

  I thanked the messenger and bade him farewell. Upon opening the chest I found, nestled on a bed of blue linen, an exquisite scarab pendant carved from greywacke. Its wings were outspread and made of gold filigree with inlays of lapis lazuli, obsidian and carnelian. Surely, this was a piece of jewellery only a king could afford to commission. Under the scarab, lay a small piece of papyrus on which the king had written ‘To my trusted friend, Sennefer. Adorn yourself with my earnest thanks.’ I knew Ramesses enjoyed my company and took satisfaction from my work but this gift intimated our friendship had moved to a higher, and possibly more demanding, level. At home that evening, when I exhibited my gift, Ipi pouted and said she may need a matching piece so she would be as dazzling as her spouse. Her pout turned into a smile when I intimated she needed no trinket to out shine her husband.

  Two days later, at the appointed hour, pharaoh arrived with his usual alacrity. He raced his chariot up to the temple, stopped in a cloud of dust and sprang down, arms extended in greeting, a look of warm welcome upon his face.

  “I see nothing has changed. By ancient custom, all my subjects must pay attendance to their monarch. Heads must be lowered in submission, foreheads should touch the ground and public prayers offered for my well-being. I know of no exemption granted to the royal architect. I arrive in Thebes, the multitudes bend down before me like reeds before a breeze and I espy you sitting on a pile of rocks watching from afar. Have you no regard for your king?”

  “With every breathe I pray for your welfare and you know of my regard. However, if it brings you joy, I will join the gaggle of geese who flock to your side and bow like a fowl pecking at grain upon the ground.”

  “Sennefer, I have missed you. My world is full of cautious administrators, thick headed military men and sour faced priests. I am in need of some humour and irreverence. You do me the honour of providing both.”

  “Master, it is I who is honoured though I am not worthy of the gift you gave me. The scarab pendant is for a prince, not a humble man who plays with stones and set squares.” I responded, delighting to be in his company again.

  “It is nothing and you are worthy of receiving more such tokens of my esteem. You have heard of my victory at Qadesh?”

  “Who has not? The battle is the subject on every lip. The gods brought you a great victory, returned you to the safety of your kingdom and the warmth of your family, the prestige of the realm is well embellished and your subjects are ecstatic.”

  As we spoke, we had walked some way towards the new pylon and the king indicated to his guard he wished to speak to me privately.

  “I was a complete fool. I almost got killed at Qadesh. My generals gave me bad advice, I did not take enough care in the preparations for the battle and my troops lacked valour under pressure. It was only the divine intervention of Amun that saved both me and the day. Just when I despaired of seeing the sun set on the day, Amun armed me with the power of a thousand men. My soldiers saw I fought alone and in peril of my life. With determination, they hacked their way through the Hittite legions and rallied to me in time to turn a sure disaster into a miserable deadlock. We did not win anything at Qadesh and I will still have to return to Syria to destroy these Hittites and their barbarian allies.” He was bitter and I could see it cost him much to speak of the battle.

  “Ramesses, all that is important is that you survived victorious and the people believe you have crushed our enemies. You, more than any other man, know appearances are sometimes more important than reality.”

  “My friend, Amun’s gift of a brave heart and strong sword arm overcame my rank naivety in military affairs, otherwise I could face possible disloyalty from within my army for the error I made on the day of the battle. General Horemheb, standing in the background, observed Tutankhamen and Ay and their failings. Like a hawk watching field mice, he saw their weakness and moved quickly to seize the throne. So you and I must move with alacrity to quell any disquieting rumours about Qadesh. The people must know their king has great courage and our enemies fell like wheat before the scythe. In strong words and graphic images, knowledge of the intimate bond between me and Amun must be widely disseminated.”

  He paused in contemplation. “I cannot explain what happened when I beseeched Amun, but the god spoke to me and stood at my side. By day’s end my chariot wheels dripped with Hittite blood yet no arrow flew near nor any sword strike me. Truly, I am of the gods.” He sounded, to my ear, somewhat amazed by this episode.

  “Call your scribe and forgive the formality of my manner.” My scribe, who had been some distance from us, came quickly to our side, sat on the ground and produced his writing tools. The king declaimed,

  “I issue a rescript to the royal architect. My great victory at Qadesh is to be widely proclaimed. You will use the walls of the outer pylon a
t Luxor to depict the clash of arms. I wish the entire surface to be covered with epic scenes of the conflict. On the inner walls of the temple at Abu Simbel, my valorous deeds are to be inscribed. Within my mortuary temple, the pylon walls are to record the glorious battle. I further command the erection of two obelisks to stand on either side of the entrance to the courtyard on which will be engraved the words of my call to Amun and his reply. You are to depict Amun and your king with hands clasped in mutual embrace.”

  “At Abydos, you will cause the walls of my new temple to be inscribed with scenes of my triumph. At the temple dedicated to Seth in Pi-Ramess, you will to chronicle my crushing of the Hittite barbarians. In all these inscriptions, the courage of my army is to be exalted and the cowardice of the enemy writ clearly, their ranks laid low by the might of Egypt and their corpses mutilated. The image of my chariot is to be deeply inscribed as I wish to venerate my noble horses for they flinched not when trampling Hittites beneath their hooves. Menna, my stalwart charioteer, will be mentioned for his steadfast valour. I, Ramesses, decree this work be done in honour of my heavenly father, Amun.”

  I motioned the scribe to leave us. The mention of Seth recalled my first discussion with Ramesses about the new temple he wished built in dedication to this deity, considered to be the god of storms, deserts, disorder and foreign lands. Orthodoxy has it that Osiris was murdered by his brother Seth, who dismembered his victim and buried the pieces throughout the kingdom. Osiris’ wife, Isis, travelled the land, collected the pieces of her mutilated husband and re-assembled them. He sprang to life again but only long enough to have intercourse with her and from this brief union was born Horus, the hawk headed god. Isis unites the world of the living and the dead and she is worshipped as the protector of the dead. Osiris, Lordship of the Afterlife, is venerated at Abydos, where his severed head was first interred. Their son, Horus, symbolising structure and order, is locked in perpetual combat with his uncle, Seth, who yearns for celestial power.

  At the time I remarked, “Master, you wish to dedicate a temple to the god Seth. Surely this is unwise?”

  He looked at me sharply “You question my decision, architect?”

  “You spoke of your need for men on whom you could rely to voice the truth, men you could trust and could consult with freely without them fearing royal disfavour?” I replied, looking at the king directly. A vision of my becoming the royal architect of drains and stables in Nubia flashed through my mind. I faced a king who thought he was a god and who now glowered at me.

  His frown turned into a warm smile. “If only my generals had your courage. Sennefer, I seek a promise you will always be so frank with me.” He put his arm around my shoulder in a sign of affection. “However, restrict your disrespect for your king to private utterances lest I be forced to remove your head should you question my wisdom in public. Let me explain my beliefs regarding Seth. If my kingdom was limited to Thebes, your observation would be correct. In the Delta, Seth is not regarded with the same disdain as in Upper Egypt. There the god has many roles. He is regarded as the guardian of the borders between the kingdom and Asia. Further northwards, Seth is believed to create disorder as a necessary forerunner to the restoration of order. Do you know that many people along the edges of the Great Sea also venerate Seth? The city, Per-Ramessu-mery-Amun, built on the ruins of the Hyksos capital, is in the region where the Ramessu family lived for generations. My father took the name Seti from Seth and I am favoured by this god. My hair is red, the colour of danger, and red is his symbolic colour.”

  “In building a temple to honour Seth at Pi-Ramess, I do so to let our northern neighbours see we acknowledge a god who enjoys an intimate relationship with their principal Canaanite god, Baal. This small concession may help to calm the waters, which still roil to our north.”

  The explanation given, Ramesses relaxed and sat next to me, placing his arm on my shoulder.

  “If the battle at Qadesh is portrayed favourably, this lessens the possibility that my generals desire to speak the truth and curry favour for themselves amongst my subjects. A lesson in kingship for you. Just after my grandfather died, the nomadic people in Palestine revolted against our dominance. My father, new to the throne, was obliged to campaign before the flowers on his coronation garlands had withered. He punished the Shasu, trampled the Kanana and crushed the Khare. He moved like a pillar of fire against Qadesh, the fortress of the Innuaamu and the Amorites, smiting heads, leaving the fields drenched with enemy blood and vultures feasted mightily. Still the Hittites refused to bow before his might. He again marched into their lands, slew their princes, captured their men and women and laid waste to all he conquered, leaving desolation and ashes in his wake. The trains full of booty groaned under their burden and Seti returned to Egypt as a mighty warrior. You have seen the record of his triumph. My generals can also read.”

  “During my campaign, they were like mice confronted by a cat. Their bodies would be carrion if not for Amun’s intercession. They must hear his voice as I heard it on the glorious day the god rode at my side. The generals will have to make a choice; accept the false bravado I give them in the depictions of the battle or attempt to belittle my role as commander of our forces. If they are wise, they will choose to bask in my reflected glory.”

  “If not?” I queried.

  “Then their blood will stain Egyptian soil when I have them slain.”

  “The lessons I learnt at Qadesh were valuable but costly. I doubt the Hittite king trembles in his boots when he hears my name, despite my bloodying his nose. We are not finished with the Hittite question so I must take every step to bring peace between ourselves and the Hittites as I doubt Egypt is strong enough to crush them. Their soldiers fight like men possessed. As fast as my army cut into their ranks, more soldiers willingly took their place. They did not flee the battlefield. If Amun had not taken my hand, my bones would now lay bleached in the sands.”

  “We withdrew from the battlefield whilst Muwatallis and his troops remained. We gained no territory and not one ounce of gold in tribute. So many men killed and what do I have to offer Amun when we celebrate the victory? Some cattle, a few chariots, a wagon load of weapons and a handful of slaves. Still, as you said, appearance is sometimes greater than reality. So I must make much of little. It is in the hands of the gods if I am to be given another opportunity to best our enemies in battle but until that moment, I must work with what Amun granted me at Qadesh.”

  “I will prepare in my own hand, the saga of the encounter and attempt to sketch the scenes I wish you to engrave on the monuments. Of one thing I am beyond doubt. I heard the voice of Amun in answer to my entreaty and I was suffused with the strength he delivered unto me. It is righteous and fitting that I now profess profound veneration of my intimate kinship with him. He spoke to me as a father to a son and in my darkest hour, his light shone upon me. His strength was my strength.”

  As I listened to the king speak of his relationship with Amun, he did indeed seem to increase in stature and radiate the aura the high priest had observed. I did not understand my own reaction to this phenomenon. I, the cynic, the man of little faith, could feel a tingle in my spine. Was it possible Ramesses was the son of god? The king looked directly at me, breaking the mood and the tension in the air eased. He still had his arm around my shoulder as he spoke of Amum and I felt a strange heat across my back. He withdrew his arm and stood back from me.

  “Sennefer, your responsibilities are now considerable. The commissions I have given you are numerous and demanding, yet you continue to acquit yourself superbly. As a reward for your services and loyalty, I would have you build a tomb for yourself and your family at my expense in Thebes. It’s design and decoration is to be of your choosing. This is the least I can do for the man who brings such majesty to the buildings I deem raised up.”

  “Now, I have another command. No, actually a desire from my heart. If you can spare some little time from your labours, you may wish to join me on the river. The stench of m
y general’s fear is still fresh in my nostrils and I am in need of some clean air. It is reported that a herd of hippopotami instils trepidation in the hearts of my people to the north of the city and I look forward to some sport in the company of an honest man. You may laugh as there is a touch of irony in my hunting hippopotami. In parts of the Upper Kingdom, Seth is depicted as a hippopotamus. On the solar barque, as it traverses the Underworld, Horus carries the spears that I, the king, must use to spear the hippopotamus. Perhaps you will see my hair change colour as my spear brings death to the god this afternoon,” he finished with a mischievous laugh.

  Chapter 13 – THE BOARD MEETING

  Egypt – Present day

  The final report recommended potentially controversial remediation of the tombs of Queen Hatshepsut and King Siptah, causing us to spend a considerable amount of time polishing our submissions so that each proposal had a clearly defined justification and cost analysis. Though the Society had agreed to foot the project costs, we did not expect a walkover and had to respond to every conceivable objection during our presentation.

  I knew enough about hidden agendas to anticipate jaundiced opinions bubbling to the surface now the philosophical decision to release millions of pounds in funds had evolved into a financial D-Day scenario. I trusted my father would unleash his powers of persuasion to overcome those who wished to ride personal hobby horses rampantly across the fields we had so carefully ploughed. The meeting was much less tempestuous than expected. Dief opened the discussion with a brief overview of the steps taken to identify project tombs and discussed the implications of each before introducing Yousef who, with the aid of impressive computer graphics, showed the current state of the tombs and was able to conceptualise their appearance after re-construction.

  The rescue plan for Hatshepsut’s KV20 was a technically extensive repair job on a derelict tomb and I hoped this would not create any significant explosions of outrage in the Board room. Success in restoring KV20 would create a significant addition to the tombs open to the public and, in the process, salvage what had long been written off as of very limited value. The tomb’s renaissance would garner international kudos for the Society and Council, whilst stroking a few egos in the process.