The Golden Falcon

by David C. Clark

  A sled bearing a statue was made much longer in front of the throne’s base as the statue would be raised into the upright position before moving to its final position in an operation using four teams. A large team hauling forward would raise the statue from its prone position whilst a second team, behind the statue, acted as a brake on its rate of descent onto its base. Secondary teams working at the sides of the sled kept tension on the statue to stop it toppling sideways or twisting off-centre. The co-ordination of the teams would be in my hands, as this was the most dangerous and delicate part of the operation.

  Men pulling on ropes cannot transmit their energy effectively when lifting an object upright by pulling parallel to it. Their energy must be transmitted up and then down by means of sheer legs, a simple device of two poles slightly shorter than the shoulder height of a statue, angled forward with slightly longer poles bound at an opposing angle. The feet of the two triangular frames are embedded into the ground and then united at the top by a cross beam fitted into a socket cut into the main poles, just up from the junction of the angled legs.

  The whole mechanism is stabilised by outspread guy ropes so it cannot move in any direction. The sled is hauled, with the statue’s back facing its destination, through the centre of the sheer leg frames and halted. Ropes are wrapped around the statue, then taken up over the beam and down to the gangs. As they pulled, their energy went up the ropes, over the beam and down to the object being raised. Sheer legs had been used for centuries to lift masonry objects and every architect was well schooled in the method. The skill came in selecting poles and beam timber strong enough to support the concentrated forces exerted upon the whole frame.

  Two hundred years ago, Queen Hatshepsut sent an expedition south to the Land of Punt, an achievement commemorated on the walls of her mortuary temple. Amongst the manifold blessings received from this enterprise and the subsequent trade between Punt and Egypt, were the rare shipments of ironwood logs -a much stronger and heavier timber than any imported from the North. I had been told the trees that yielded this timber grew many weeks travel south of Punt in dark and mysterious lands. Small pieces are highly prized by carpenters making expensive furniture as ironwood is a dark blood red colour and finishes as smooth as alabaster, when polished. Architects found a more prosaic use for the logs as they made excellent sheer leg poles and beams. The sections I would use had been given to me by Meketre, who in turn had inherited them from his predecessor. We architects guarded these precious pieces more fiercely than the king’s treasurer watched over his gold ingots.

  My assistants and I worked long hours to ensure we had everything in readiness. Writing this now, years after the event, brings back the memory of the complexity of the task. I commanded over 30,000 men, barges, miles of cordage, hundreds of litres of oil, watermen, warships and one very excited wife. Even though I kept telling her, at the time, should I fail I would be fed to the crocodiles for the king’s amusement and she could be sent to a Hittite slave market, she was immensely proud of what I was doing. She was but a woman – what did she know?

  The king arrived with four warships under the command of Prince Ramesses, commander of the kingdom’s fleet. On the voyage down from the Delta, he picked up Prince Khaemwaset at Memphis. Taking passage on a second barque was Queen Isetnofret on her first visit to Thebes accompanied by the three eldest royal princesses. On learning of this royal assemblage, I thought if that I did not succeed, I would at least have a distinguished audience to savour my distress. Once the royal family had disembarked and the queen and princesses sent to the palace, the king and his sons travelled over by chariot to find me. I had not met Prince Ramesses, who looked very much like his father, more so than Khaemwaset or Merenptah. After introductions were made, my servants were sent to bring food and drinks and we settled into chairs set out under a pavilion.

  Ramesses was radiant. “My children, I present to you the greatest architect the kingdom has known. The pyramids at Giza are nothing to the miracles this man has wrought on my behalf. He has created magnificent tributes in honour of my name. Your brother, Merenptah, sent me a report from Aswan that reads like the babbling of a child. It appears Lord Sennefer, my great and wondrous builder, has surpassed his previous endeavours with the first of the great statues I have dedicated to the gods about to arrive in Thebes. Sennefer, when you embarked on this commission, I asked Prince Khaemwaset to make offerings to the deities, requesting their intercession in this great project. It seems they have guided your hand with assuredness thus far.”

  “Master, I thank you and the prince for his prayers of divine benevolence but the work is not yet halfway to success. There is much to be done and the matter still fraught with difficulties.”

  “Ha, you are too modest. The high priest will make a special offering to the gods tomorrow to ensure their blessings of this work, which is acquitted in their honour. Khaemwaset prayed for the beneficence of Ptah in Memphis. Prince Ramesses personally trained his captains in the skills of riverine manoeuvring and Merenptah brings us his boyish enthusiasm. Nothing more can be done. When does this fine work begin?”

  “The cargo is only two days passage from Thebes. The quays, basin and ramp are finished, manpower is being organised, my equipment is assembled, your warships have arrived, transport vessels are docked, we have an admiral available and you have asked for divine guidance. I think we are almost ready though, Master, I still have much to complete before the raft actually docks. Prince Ramesses, I have sent a messenger to the principal watermen to come here swiftly so they can meet with you and your captains. Forgive them if they are a little rough around the edges but they are solid fellows and will perform well.”

  The prince said “Sennefer, I may be a prince of the royal blood but I have served my time in our fleet. My officers and men have as many ribald stories and speak the same crude language as your watermen. You have presented us with an interesting challenge and I trust my men will bring honour and glory to our father.”

  “Well spoken, my son. Lord Sennefer, we must leave you to your labours now. We are resident at the palace and I ask you and your wife honour us with your company one evening after this task is complete. Queen Isetnofret requests you bring your daughter with you. The queen, who is the mother of these ruffians here, hopes your daughter, by her presence, will bring some gentleness to the dining table.”

  “Pharaoh, I thank you for the invitation which I gladly accept on behalf of my family. I apologise but I must play with some equipment. Please enjoy the humble hospitality my office affords you.” With the assent of the king, I took my leave to oversee the erection of the sheer legs, a matter demanding my special skills.

  Well before dawn two days hence, a vessel arrived to warn us of the coming of the raft later in the morning. Events moved swiftly at this news. Still under moonlight, the four warships slipped their moorings and moved in pairs upriver. I had raised up a dais for the royal party from where they could watch the event unfold. As the sun rose, I watched the king, his queen, Prince Khaemwaset and the princesses leave the palace for the river’s edge. Prince Ramesses was onboard one of the warships and Prince Merenptah upriver in company with the raft as it approached the city. Before leaving my quarters, I made my own personal offering to Thoth, beseeching him to guide my hand over the next few days. Ipi kissed me and wished me good luck, saying she would be at my side in spirit. I was more strained than I would admit but sensed the same nervous tension and elevated awareness a general must feel before he engages in battle.

  From my own platform at the edge of the basin, I watched as the great vessel hove into view, moving sedately in the current, sunlight from Re’s divine barque silhouetting the colossus with a brilliant halo. A thunderous cheer went up as the crowds caught sight of the statue, which appeared to be miraculously floating on the water. Thousands of Thebans lined the banks and soldiers had their hands full ensuring they did not impeded our activities.

  The warships moved abreast the raft and lines wer
e thrown aboard and secured to stern posts. The warships turned, beating upriver in line astern to the pounding of the hortator’s hammers as the rower’s oars bit into the current. The raft perceptibly slowed as they took the strain. Small groups of men at the the Lady’s stern readied the anchor blocks as the outer helmsmen pushed their rudders inwards. I could see Imhotep gauging the distance between the raft and the point at which he wanted her to stop. Desperately, I thought they will never halt her in time though she had slowed dramatically when I heard the shout ‘Cast off the anchors’. Heavy blocks plunged into the river and, with a shudder; she stopped dead in the water. Sweat trickling from under my wig and I breathed again. A fleet of punts put out from the shore carrying warping ropes. The warship’s crew still held station behind the raft, their oars rising and falling as they continued to act as a brake against the current. Prince Ramesses, smiling broadly, signalled to his family who returned the salute.

  Hauling ropes were attached to the raft’s forward bollards and the slow process of drawing her into the berth began. The area around the basin had been cleared of onlookers and only the newly harnessed haulers and their overseers remained, fibre ropes snaked around their feet. Nebamun and Imhotep had boarded the raft and stood on top of the statue. Nebamun looked about him and bellowed to the throng to be quiet. He turned to face the warships. “INCREASE YOUR SPEED”. The tempo of the oarsmen increased and the water churned with their efforts. “GANG ONE. TAKE THE STRAIN”. The first gang hauled on the rope furthest from the shore and slowly the bow swung towards the land. “GANGS TWO AND THREE. TAKE THE STRAIN”. Two more teams bent to their task. The quarry master, taking advice from Imhotep, signalled to the men manning the anchor cables to let out more rope on the far side of the platform. “WARSHIP ONE AND TWO. DECREASE YOUR SPEED”. The warships, furthest away from the lagoon, slowed the pace of their rowing and allowed themselves to be drawn into the arc the raft made as she swung landward, her bow angling towards us.

  “GANGS THREE, FOUR, FIVE AND SIX. TAKE THE STRAIN.” Another signal to the anchormen to let out more rope. Between the gangs hauling on the ropes, the anchormen letting out more cable and the warships reducing their upriver drag, the raft continued to pivot on its corner nearest the bank. “WARSHIPS THREE AND FOUR. REDUCE YOUR SPEED.” The oarsmen on all four warships slowed their strokes as the raft wheeled towards the basin. In an act of absolute precision the Lady, now at a right angle to the shore, nosed into the lagoon. “WARSHIPS. DETACH YOUR LINES.” Another signal to the men on the anchor ropes caused them to cut their lines. ‘ALL GANGS HAUL.” This was a dangerous moment. With nothing restraining the raft, it could have spun back into the river and broken free. I held my breath again. “HAUL”. The gangs hauled like men possessed. The great vessel inched further into the lagoon until she was captured, the down river edge grinding along the granite quayside. Nebamun roared his last command. “STOP HAULING”. She continued her forward motion until the bow hit the end of the reinforced quay, rebounded slightly and stopped like a butterfly alighting on a leaf. As a roar went up from the crowd, I turned my eyes heavenward and thanked Thoth from the depth of my soul. Amidst great cheering, the royal party left the dais and moved to inspect the vessel and her cargo. The quarry master climbed down from his position on the royal stomach, bowed low to the king, who made some motions with his hands near his stomach causing a peal of laughter to break from Nebamun and the king’s entourage.

  The warships returned to their anchorage. The haulers, being served by water boys, lay down or squatted on the sand, their ropes piled into untidy heaps. I took a deep breath and wiped the sweat from my brow with a handful of linen. The king beckoned and I left my platform and walked over to the royal party. Ramesses extended his hand, his delight evident. “This is fine work, Lord Architect. You are to be congratulated. Did you not feel the hand of Amun upon your shoulder these past hours?”

  “Master, I did nothing. The honours are to be given to the quarry master, your son who commanded the warships so skilfully and Imhotep, who calculated how to berth the monster. It is they who deserve thanks and praise and not I.”

  “You are, as always, too modest. Merenptah informs me it was you who worked out the entire sequence of events in the finest detail.”

  “What are scraps of papyrus and scribbles on slate compared to the practical skills you have seen before you today. Nebamun has a voice that would bestir Osiris and yonder, your son worked his craft with a dexterity that will be spoken of with awe wherever watermen gather. I am thankful to Amun and Thoth for their benevolence today. We are but his servants.” I replied with a humility I truly felt.

  He moved close and looked deeply into my eyes. “Your reserve becomes you, Sennefer, and you have my gratitude. Amun looks at you now and notes you well.” He stepped back and raised his voice. “When do you commence the next stage of this adventure?”

  Ropes were fitted to the sled and the boys carrying pitchers of oily slurry hopped on-board the raft. Haulers trudged along the river bank dragging their ropes and harness with them, overseers marshalling them into place as we watched. When hauling the cargo off the raft, it would again dip low into the water and I had to create a solid bridge between its side and the quay.

  “All should be ready in about one hour. Today, we can only drag the statue off the vessel as Re will be too far advanced on his passage to begin the long haul to your temple. That is the task of the morrow. Now, I crave your indulgence as I have to see to the placing of the ironwood bridging.”

  This was a critical concern in the unloading as the cargo’s weight would bear down on the ironwood bridge during its transfer from the raft to the shore. The height of the quay and the depth of the lagoon had been carefully measured to ensure the underside of the raft did not sink too far before it grounded on the river bottom whilst the burden was dragged off. The depth of the river was monitored daily at the Thebes Nilometre and the quay master had only just dug out the last few centimetres of mud from the discharging basin and broken through the coffer wall after I was assured the river level was constant. I conferred with Nebamun, surveyed the field of operation one last time and decided all was ready. A messenger was despatched to the king and his party who regained their position on the dais. I chose to station myself on the quay from where I could detect any signs of misfortune.

  At my signal the quarry master regained his place on the statue, the order for silence was given and boys cast palm oil onto the runners and deck. Again the command ‘TAKE THE STRAIN” was issued and shoulders leant forward into their harnesses. The solar barque was high in the sky making this hot work. “PULL” the voice bellowed. The haulers dug their feet into the loose soil. “PULL” again and the sled moved slightly as it had done at Aswan. “PULL”. Men took up the chant, ropes tensioned and harness leather creaked. “PULL”. The sled slid towards the runners, the raft dipping. I measured the progress of the sled and the angle of the deck. “More oil” I commanded and boys working in the looming shadow of the statue, threw pitcher after pitcher of oil onto the bearers. The cargo slid more quickly, edged off the raft and onto the bridging. This was the moment I feared. The raft’s near side sank perceptibly until it grounded. The sled was well onto the bridging bearers which groaned and flexed under the weight they were taking. One snapped and shattered, a jagged splinter struck an oiler who fell, bleeding, into the water. A waterman dove in after him.

  “PULL” came the command again. The nearside runner attained the quay and slid freely on the polished granite facing stones. “PULL” At last, the offside runner slipped smoothly onto the quay and I knew we had succeeded. Nebamun watched me closely and when I signalled the sled was squarely centred on the ramp, he bellowed “DROP YOUR ROPES”. The raft, free of its burden, levelled itself, sending waves out into the river. I almost cried with relief and the release of tension. The king looked across from his dais, his face lit with satisfaction. He and the princes raised their arms in salute. They then saluted the quarry master who h
ad come to my side. Sweat ran off his steaming body in rivulets and his large frame quivered with the effort he had expended.

  Using words that would surely offend the tender ears of a lady, he let out a stream of oaths. “That” he panted, pointing to the motionless sled, “is the most difficult thing I have done in my life. I thought when the bearer shattered they would all go and we would have one very expensive pile of granite pieces sitting on the quay and river bank.”

  I bent down to pick up a splinter of ironwood that had hit me across my legs, thinking to give him a souvenir. As I straightened up, I noticed an ibis standing, untroubled, on the end of the quay. The quay and the area around us still teemed with activity and the shouted commands of foreman dispersing their gangs hardly made it a place conducive of the quietness normally associated with water birds. The bird looked at me, then up at the statue. Thinking little of it, I handed the splinter to Nebamun and we both laughed weakly.

  Our kilts were sweat sodden and we were both emotionally drained. I suggested we should retire to a quiet room in my offices and indulge in some cool wine. He nodded his head in mute assent. I gave instructions to my assistants and hailed my chariot. Thankfully, I believe the king understood our desire to be away as he raised his arm in a gesture of farewell and two grimy, tired men sped off across the desert to a well earned beaker or two of wine. Tomorrow was another day and its challenge could wait till then.

  Before the dawn broke, we began moving the statue early to take advantage of the cooler morning air as the demands of heavy hauling under a blazing sun soon sapped the strongest men of their strength and there was much strenuous work to be done this day. The ramp from the quay was in a direct line to the Ramesseum but it was still a good two kilometre haul. The sled would be dragged to the sheer legs, the statue raised upright and then hauled to its place against the pylon.