Obviously, we could not pull the statue against the pylon as the gangs would run out of headway as they approached it. I had considered trying to erect sheer legs behind the pylon but the poles were not long enough and there was the added impedance of the small courtyard and a corridor of statues behind it. It is conventional practice to arrange construction around the placement of all awkward or heavy objects before you built any structure that would block a haulage way. I no longer had this luxury.
Pharaoh’s desire to emplace two new behemoths was made after construction finished in the main sections of his mortuary temple. If I had to erect an obelisk instead of an enthroned statue, it could be dragged to a place parallel to the pylon and raised by haulage teams work parallel to the pylon face. Now I was limited to a choice of two possible methods. The first was to swing the ramp out in a wide arc, get the statue upright, haul it backwards along the ramp so it would come in parallel to the pylon and then drag it around, using the rear base as a pivot.
The other option was to drag it in a straight line towards the pylon, raise the statue upright and then, at ironwood poles sunk into the ground on both sides of the ramp near the wall, bend the ropes around these poles and have the gangs turn, face the river and haul the statue right up against the wall without the need to swing it around when it arrived at its final position. The first method was longer, slower and still left me with the problem of trying to turn a 1,000 tonne mass on its base. The direct route, required more men hauling due to the loss of effort caused by wrapping ropes around poles. I could also take the ropes out at ninety degrees from the pylons and have men hauled at right angles to the load rather than have them haul, in effect, backwards. Once I determined the capacity of the gangs I would make a decision.
This matter had troubled me almost from the moment the king conceived the task and there were many discussions with the quarry master about what we thought was the better way of positioning the statutes. Finally, we decided to use the direct haul method. If it did not work, I could always go back and try the other way, even if it meant dragging the statue back to the riverside and building a wide sweeping ramp. This sounded easy but building a ramp strong enough to take the weight of heavy masonry was time consuming and expensive, especially as the ramp surface had to be faced with stone. If the surface was not flat, there was always the chance the object being hauled could jar and crack or the weight might cause a section of the ramp to collapse, the statue topple and my future made instantly clear by imperial edict.
I caused ironwood logs to be sunk upright in clusters near the end of the ramp as a number of sets would be needed as the sled moved closer to the pylon. The sled runners were beginning to show the first signs of wear and it was necessary to check the pads under the ropes securing the statue were not chaffing the granite itself. By the time all was ready for the final positioning, we were confident the planning had covered every eventuality.
Nebamun and I rose well before Re’s golden barque completed its traverse through the Underworld and commenced its voyage across the sky. Ipi, almost overwhelmed with excitement and bursting with pride, would watch the spectacle from a position of safety but close enough to blow me a kiss. We made offerings to Thoth before leaving for the day’s task. The stable boy had harnessed my chariot and we rode swiftly to the river through thousands of men taking up their positions along ropes. After leaving Nebamun at the sled, I drove back to check the sheer legs and to confer with my overseers. The king and his sons had arrived and were afoot near the sled. Possibly his jest about working on the ropes was not one made in vain He clearly understood the enormity and difficulties of this day’s work for we had discussed the problems involved in raising the colossi and moving them against the pylons.
I decided I need not attend the beginning of the haul but would enjoy the spectacle from afar. There is a deep sense of majesty watching an army of men working in concert. Activity on both sides of the river ceased as all available manpower had been called up to serve the statue on its passage to immortality. I saw Nebwenenef, attended by a phalanx of white robed acolytes, making devotions and, on a dais well away from the noise and dust. I observed the queen and her daughters seated under an elaborate awning with fan bearers wafting ostrich feathers over their heads. My wife and daughter had taken up their position on the pylon along with many of my assistants and the senior watermen. Crimson and blue flags fluttered on poles over the pylon and the plain from the river’s edge to the mortuary temple took on the appearance of a battlefield before the clash of combat, a scene made more martial by the presence of soldiers ensuring the throng did not intrude into our work space.
From my perch atop the sheer leg beam, I watched the epic unfold. Gangs rose to their feet, lines formed and then fanned out. I heard, even from this distance, the commands from the quarry master. There came the familiar sounds of creaking harness leather and ropes adjusting to the strain. Sitting as I was in a direct line with the head of the statue, I could not determine any movement other than the churning legs and swaying bodies of the haulers but it was soon evident the sled was moving towards me and as it advanced up the ramp, a swelling chant filled the air as the gangs toiled ever closer. Slowly, the lines of straining men reached and then passed around and through the sheer legs, the massive statue looming ever nearer the cross beam. I watched marker posts set into the ramp and, when the front of the sled reached the markers, I raised my arm. Nebamun responded and commanded the men to stop. I looked down upon the granite face of the pharaoh and his cold blank eyes appeared, for a moment, to glint in the sunlight. The king, attended by the princes, had walked alongside the sled. He looked up at me and smiled in acknowledgement. For him, this was an adventure, one ordained by his gods and I prayed their benevolence continued to favour me this day. I leant over the beam. “Master, this next operation is fraught with danger. May I recommend you and your sons move back some distance?”
He scoffed “Sennefer, I have faced a Hittite army, numberless lions, herds of hippopotami and rebellious Syrian filth. Should I be afraid of my own image?”
One gang swung around to face the river. The other, between the pylon and the sheer legs, also swung around, their backs towards the temple walls, lifting their heavy ropes to their shoulders, reformed into long lines and fanned out. The rope handlers took ropes up over the beam and fed them around the back of the throne and upper torso of the body, placing linen pads under the ropes to protect the polished surface. A third and fourth team took up station to the left and right of the sled with their ropes also secured around the statue. These gangs would stabilise the statue as it rose onto its base and counter any possibility of it toppling sideways.
The raising of the statue required considerable co-ordination as the four teams had to maintain an equal tension on their ropes as the colossus rose up from its bed. If the figure started to topple I hoped Ramesses and his sons knew how to run swiftly. I could not begin to imagine what the penalty would be for killing a king. As this thought passed through my mind, an ibis settled on the statue’s right shoulder. Ibises usually sought out quiet spaces – yet again, another chose to settle in the midst of tumult. A small mystery but one I had little time to dwell on.
One by one, the section overseers signalled their readiness. I stood on the beam, Nebamun next to me. I gave the first command for the rear and side teams to take the strain. My next command, bellowed out by the quarry master, was to the river gang who would haul the statue onto its base. They had to apply a constant, slow tension on their ropes as they struggled forward. Bringing a statute to its feet is a task demanding intense concentration. It requires striking the right balance between forward momentum as the statue pivots up and a restraining counter pressure to ensure it did not move forward so quickly, it would topple. Whilst juggling the front and rear gangs, I also had to make sure the side teams did not apply too much drag and cause the statue to twist sideways. Hunting lions was infinitely less stressful.
As the gangs hauled, b
oys poured palm oil on the ropes just before they passed over the beam next to me. I did not care to think about the consequences of a rope parting. Nebamun and I would be whipped off the beam and crushed like scorpions under a sandal. The statue began to lift, first by millimetres, then by centimetres and finally, by metres. Its progress was steady and whilst I gave urgent commands and my eyes were in a hundred places, I was aware of the head looming up towards me. The beam was twelve metres from the ground, the statue stood nineteen. The king’s head and shoulders continued to rise, first below me, then level with the beam and then higher. The colossus reached the critical moment when it would move forward under its own weight. The granite plinth on which the enthroned image sat was rectangular with the lower edges rounded as its width was the pivot on which the statue rose upwards. Great control had to be maintained as this was a critical moment. The ibis had not moved – very unusual as the chanting and shouted commands made its perch a less than peaceful haven.
I watched a device attached to the base that showed me the angle of the statue and once it reached a mark on the scale, I indicated to Nebamun he must immediately order the rear gang to take an increasing strain and begin to haul ever so slowly backward whilst I ordered the forward gang to stop pulling. The side gangs, keeping a balanced lateral tension, let their ropes rise up with the statue.
The granite head towered over me and the sky was blotted out by the massive torso. The rear gang now braked with maximum exertion and the statue slowly settled squarely onto its base with a dull thud and the slightest cloud of dust puffed out from under the sled. Another thunderous cheer rose from thousands of throats and I started to breath again, tears of joy steaming from my eyes.
I looked around about me, multitudes of people were on their feet, screaming and cheering. Ramesses scaled a ladder put up against the cross beam and stood beside me, clasping my hand, his face lit with pleasure. Then Ramesses, Pharaoh and Mighty Ruler of Egypt, put his arm around my sweaty shoulder and raised his other arm in salute. Later, my wife told me that was the proudest moment of her life. I knew how she felt.
How great was the upright statue. This was Ramesses in his full glory – powerful, wise upon his throne and father to his people. The red Aswan granite shone in the light falling upon it from Re’s golden barque as it would do for a thousand times a thousand days. When we had all gone to the Afterlife, the statue would still be here watching over his realm. I still had to move the statue up to and onto its plinth.
“Master, I have work to do. You statue has not completed its journey to the temple and in a few weeks its brother will be ready to leave and travel the same perilous route. Only after they are both seated at the pylon and grace your domain can you congratulate me.” I said, still full of the emotions of the moment.
His look was enigmatic “Today, you have greatly honoured me and the gods. You need do no more. I will gladly extend the temple out to meet my statues. Rest, my friend.”
“Pharaoh, I promised you these statues will rest there and there”, indicating with my hand, pointing to the wings of the pylon. “Let me have the honour of fulfilling my promise.”
He looked at me again, his eyes moist. He shook his head, took my hand again and climbed off the frame. Nebamun, who had discreetly moved to the end of the beam, rejoined me.
“You are a remarkable man, Sennefer.” He paused. “Are we ready to continue?”
“Yes, Nebamun, whilst we still have the will to succeed, let us assemble the men as there are many more hours before the sun leaves the sky. Tonight, Amun-Re’s divine light will encircle the head of pharaoh as his barque descends into the Underworld.”
Instructions were given, the huge gangs re-assembled to drag the statue the final distance. The lines ran out, men struggled, the colossus inched it way towards the temple with the afternoon sun warming its back. When the haulers could not move further forward the ropes were bent around the ironwood pylons and the hauling continued. I thanked Thoth for providing me with the wisdom to choose this way of moving the statue to its base. As it crawled forward, its crowned head and muscular torso towered over the wall. Finally, the statue rested firmly on its plinth and when the tumult ceased, the gangs departed for the day, the crowds dispersed, it stood in isolated splendour, its granite eyes forever watching over the Nile. The last rays of the day created a halo of light behind the king’s head and I could rest, exhausted but satisfied.
Only as I climbed wearily onto my chariot to return to my home did I see the king standing in the twilight, his sons in a small, quiet group some distance from him. His hands were extended in an act of supplication, his head lifted towards the heavens. He noticed me, and I raised my arm in salute and he returned the gesture before returning to his devotions.
Chapter 26 – A KING’S REQUEST
Egypt- 1250 BC
Ramesses intimated he wished to witness the loading and voyage of the second statue. Apparently, Prince Merenptah’s dramatic tale of the first event had charged the king with high interest. As soon as I finalised certain matters in Thebes, Nebamun, Imhotep and I took passage to Aswan with Ramesses promising to follow promptly. We needed to move with haste as Sopdet had appeared in the eastern night sky, heralding the imminent rising of the river. None of us wanted the battle of shipping a huge vessel and its cargo with the river in full spate. As yet, there were no reports of the advent of the inundation from the Nilometres at Elephantine or the great fortresses at Semna and Kumma, near the Second Cataract. At Aswan, I was relieved to see the second raft had been already hauled into the quay, waiting for its burden with all else in readiness for the king’s arrival. My relief was tempered by our captain noting a slight increase in the river’s flow as we journeyed southwards. Alarmingly, the flood may have begun earlier than we contemplated.
The season before the inundation swept down the river valley was a time of increasing concern, leavened with great expectations. The cereal grains, that had grow so abundantly in fields covered in the rich bounty of black soil, were being delivered to royal granaries,which filled rapidly as treasury officials made provision to sustain the kingdom’s subjects through the fallow months of flood until the blossoming of new crops, a half year away. Life slowed as the river shrank and flowed sluggishly. Fields, ponds and irrigation channels dried out and green leafed trees took on a wilted, brownish hue, fish and wild fowl were no longer plentiful and livestock foraged widely for fodder.
The Nile was Egypt - its past, present and future. The mighty river flowed from the immense lake created by Atum’s tears and, unquestionably, the outcome of the inundation, favourable or otherwise, was determined by the judgement of our gods. If the deities found fault with pharaoh, Atum’s tears might not fall and drought followed with the dire affliction of poor harvests and famine. The god might weep copiously and the river swell excessively with fields, houses, temples and granaries submerged in a surfeit of water. Sowing of new season crops would be delayed, plagues of insects and rodents swarmed and misery stalked the realm. The inundation’s success or failure was the measure of the righteousness of a ruler and a test of how effectively the King discharged his role as intercessor for his subjects.
If unfavourable, it was a clear sign life lacked harmonious balance and the gods no longer smiled upon the pharaoh and his people. There had been long periods in our history when the realm was stricken with prolonged drought and the lean years were marked by political instability, civil wars and disharmony. If the king was less than diligent in his duties, the deities withheld their blessings whilst they determined a new and more devout king be fashioned on Khnum’s potter’s wheel.
A complex equilibrium exists between the people’s devotion to their king, the king’s obsecrations to the divinities and their judgement of the pharaoh. A propitious flooding spoke more resoundingly than all the temples, shrines and statues a king erected in his lifetime, as Amum valued the sincerity in the heart of his earthly representative more than he did the number or magnitude of monuments buil
t in glorification of his name.
Ramesses dryly explained “You will observe, in the judgement scenes from the Books of the Dead, when the worthiness of my soul is determined, Osiris weighs my heart on the scales and does not measure the weight of stones I used to build temples in honour of the divine family. Whilst Thoth, your patron, stands besides the scales to record the assessment I see no images of temples or statues, raised up by he who is judged, portrayed in the background.”
From the beginning of his reign, our king received heavenly approbation. Every year, the great river renewed the fertility of Kemet from the body of Osiris entombed beneath his great temple at Abydos and the realm waxed fat in years of plenty. Yet until the greenish-blue waters were flushed northwards by the influx of red muddy water from the primal waters far beyond the kingdom, all Egyptians waited with anxiety, for who knew the decision of the gods? Would they spread their beneficence over the land or would they judge the kingdom harshly that year?
I watched the river with apprehension of another kind. We were at lunch when a fast sail boat docked, bringing news of the impending arrival of the royal squadron. As the fleet drew near we saw, just astern of the king’s barque, the vessels of Prince Khaemwaset and Prince Merenptah and behind them, in line abreast, five imperial warships beating upriver with their oars silently rising and falling in unison.
“Very impressive” said Imhotep, momentarily downcast. “Makes my transport vessels look very shabby, don’t they?”
“Ah, yes, but you will have your moment of glory soon enough. Think, you will soon be in command of five warships. A high honour for a smelly old water rat.” responded Nebamun.
Both he and Imhotep had received a considerable gift of gold as reward for their role in the sculpting and shipment of the first statue and I am sure they saw another gift forthcoming should they acquit themselves well in the next few days. The royal barques shipped oars and came to rest against the quay. Ramesses bounded down the gangway, followed by the princes, greetings were exchanged and we walked to where the second colossus lay on its sled.
The Golden Falcon Page 36