Fall of the House of Ramesses, Book 3: Tausret

by Max Overton

  "The room's deserted," he whispered. "A single torch to give us some light. I'll go first and make sure there's nobody hiding." Ament hauled himself up and over the sill, and disappeared into the room.

  Silence followed, and Paraemheb crouched below the window waiting. He rose slowly and looked over the sill and almost cried out as Ament's head appeared before him.

  "Come on," Ament said. He helped Paraemheb into the room and pointed toward the darkened doorway to the bedchamber. "He's in there, fast asleep. No guards or servants."

  Paraemheb took out his dagger and strode into the bedchamber, Ament on his heels. A simple bed lay at the far end of the room and a man lay on it, half covered by a linen sheet, breathing heavily. There was little other furniture in the room and as their eyes became accustomed to the gloom, the two men made their way over to the bed. They stood and looked down at the sleeping man and Paraemheb shuffled his feet, changing his grip on the dagger, but making no other move.

  "Strike," Ament whispered.

  "He's asleep."

  "Well, of course he is." Ament stared at the young Tjaty incredulously. "You want to wake him up before you kill him?"

  "It...it doesn't seem right to send him to the gods without a chance to make his peace with them."

  "I can see you're not a soldier," Ament muttered. "All right, I'll wake him up, but you must be ready to kill him swiftly, before he can raise the alarm."

  "Would it matter?" Paraemheb asked. "The guards are on our side."

  "Of course it would. They'd have to intervene as their orders are to protect him. Now, give me a moment, and when he wakes, strike swiftly for his heart." Ament moved to the head of the bed and took up a position where he could grasp Messuwy firmly, and clap a hand over his mouth to prevent him crying out. "Ready?"

  Paraemheb nodded and Ament took hold of the sleeping man. Messuwy awakened and immediately began struggling, issuing muffled cries for help.

  "Strike," Ament said. "Quickly."

  Paraemheb hesitated, and then instead of stabbing his victim, spoke. "Messuwy, you executed my uncle Neferronpet, though his only crime was obeying his king. For this you must die..."

  "Get on with it," Ament rasped, fighting to hold the struggling man on the bed.

  "...and I will carry out this sentence of death as my uncle's nearest relative." The Tjaty thrust forward with the dagger, piercing Messuwy's chest.

  Messuwy heaved violently as the blade went in, and Ament lost his grip. The wounded man struggled to sit up, but the only sounds that escaped his lips were strangled gasps and whimpers.

  Ament threw himself onto the bed and wrestled Messuwy down. "Again, Paraemheb, before he can raise the alarm."

  Paraemheb stabbed tentatively, the blade barely breaking skin, and Ament swore softly, released his hold on Messuwy's mouth, reached across to the Tjaty's hand and rammed the blade home.

  Messuwy convulsed, and uttered a croak as he fell back, his fingers fluttering weakly on the blood-soaked sheets. "Eh...pl...please..." he whispered. "Don't..."

  "What is he trying to say?" Paraemheb gasped, dropping the dagger with a clatter to the tiles.

  "He's just trying to stop us," Ament said. "Now pick up the knife and finish him off."

  "N...no. Please don't...don't hurt...my son...innocent..."

  Ament groaned and, stepping around the bed, he scooped the knife off the floor and bent over Messuwy. Pressing the blade to the man's throat, he started to thrust and then stopped, looking into Messuwy's eyes only a hand span from his own. "Rest easy, Messuwy. They've just made your son king."

  Messuwy's fingers ceased their fluttering and gripped Ament's tunic. "T...truly?"

  "I swear on all the gods, Messuwy. Siptah will be crowned king."

  A bubble of blood formed on Messuwy's lips as he tried to smile. "Th...then I have...have won."

  "No, Messuwy, you lose," Ament whispered. He leaned forward and thrust the knife blade deep into the man's throat.

  Chapter 4

  Tausret speaks:

  I have in my hands a report from Paraemheb, Tjaty of Ta Shemau, in which he says that an unknown person broke into the old eastern palace of Waset and murdered the man Messuwy, sometimes known as Menmire Amenmesse, who once claimed to be Lord of the Two Lands.

  According to the report, the murderer broke in through the window, stabbed Messuwy to death and vanished. None of the guards saw anything, and the death was not reported until the next morning when a servant came to wash and dress him. It is the opinion of General Setnakhte, the report says, that the murderer was a person who had a grudge against the man who was lately king of Ta Shemau, and he says there are many of those. Setnakhte says that a search for the murderer has been made, but he has vanished without trace.

  I read it in the presence of my northern Tjaty, Hori, as we were conducting business in the Hall of Audiences, and of course I sent everyone except Hori away so I could digest the news in private. I read the words again, my lips silently sounding out the syllables, and when I finished I rolled it up and handed it to my Tjaty.

  "I'm going to have to tell Siptah, I suppose."

  "He should know his father is dead."

  "But how will he take it?"

  "He will grieve, but does he need to know he was murdered?" Hori asked. "All he really needs to know is that his father has died."

  "He'll find out eventually."

  "There will be rumours, but once he is buried in his rock-cut tomb that is all there will be."

  "I suppose he must be buried? He was responsible for the death of my Seti."

  "Whatever else he was, the man was anointed king and is, moreover, the father of the new king. You must give him the honours due to his station. We can make the actual burial a quiet ceremony with only the immediate family present."

  Hori was right, of course. A rock-cut tomb could be found to house his remains, though I would make sure that his name was erased from monuments throughout the kingdoms. He was responsible for the death of my beloved Seti, and I was determined to have his name chiselled out and recarved to the memory and honour of Userkheperure Seti. I expect Siptah will take exception to my actions, but there is little he can do. He will be king, but a king lacking all power--that will reside in my hands--the hands of the regent.

  It is nearly time to accompany the body of my husband south to the Great Field and there inter him with all due ceremony. His tomb is unfinished and unready to take the body of a king--another act to be laid at the door of his brother. When Messuwy claimed the throne in the south he had all work on my Seti's tomb abandoned, but through an oversight, work continued on mine. Consequently, my tomb is nearly finished and I shall let my husband lie within my tomb until his is ready.

  I had thought to put off the crowning of the new king for a time, while I gathered the reins of power into my own hands, but Hori and Bay argued most strenuously against it. They have said that the Two Lands are in turmoil since the war of the brothers and the subsequent death of the king. It would calm the kingdoms, they said, to have a king on the throne once more. Confidence in the continuation of the House of Ramesses must be fostered, and in truth the foundations of that House are presently built on sand. Forgetting the multitude of lesser descendants of Usermaatre, there are only three surviving members of the central royal family--me, my son and my nephew.

  I will never marry again, and Siptah is weak and crippled, hardly kingly material, so everything rests on the tiny shoulders of my darling Seti-Merenptah. It is a great burden for one so young, but I will make sure he survives, marries, and brings forth a quiverful of sons. In the meantime, I suppose I must allow Siptah to play at being king.

  Shortly, we take the Royal Barge to Waset, there to lay my husband in his temporary tomb. Siptah will perform the Ceremony of the Opening of the Mouth, under my supervision, and then I will see him crowned king in Waset. I have had to think up a suitable throne name for him--something that honours the main gods of his house, but not Set. I will not have
him bearing the name of my beloved Seti. A name that honours Re and Ptah, of course, and Amun, for we must get the enthusiastic support of Waset behind his reign.

  Sekhaienre Meryamun Ramesses-Siptah--'He whom Re causes to appear, Beloved of Amun, Re fashioned him, son of Ptah'. What grand names for a little boy who still has his side-lock and plays with toy chariots. And what blasphemy is inherent in his names--to accuse the great god Re of fashioning such a crippled king. Still, there is little I can do about it--for now, at least. It will not always be so, for in a few years--eight or nine--Seti-Merenptah will be old enough to be crowned king, and then we shall see. The son of my traitorous brother-in-law will disappear from the throne and from memory, along with all his supporters, and my own son will reign as the worthy successor to the great Userkheperure Seti. The House of Ramesses will build itself anew and rise to greater heights than ever it was in the days of my grandfather Usermaatre Ramesses.

  Chapter 5

  Year 1 of Sekhaienre Ramesses-Siptah

  With a great effort of will, Queen Tausret set aside her personal feelings and put in train the arrangements for the coronation. The preserved and richly wrapped body of Userkheperure was loaded onto the royal barge with priests and an accompanying honour guard of senior army officers. The funeral barge would make its slow progression to Waset and thence to the king's funerary temple on the west bank, where it would lie in state until the new king and regent arrived.

  Another barge was outfitted with the luxuries necessary for conveying living royalty and, accompanied by Chancellor Bay, Tjaty Hori, General Iurudef and Commander Ament, Tausret and Siptah went on board. Tausret insisted on taking her infant Seti-Merenptah with her, despite the exhausting schedule planned, for the young boy was the Crown Prince, and the populace needed to see him as well as their next king.

  The citizens and slaves of Men-nefer turned out to see them off, crowded together within sight of the wharves, lining the riverbank, and a not inconsiderable number standing and cheering from the unstable platforms of small boats up and down the river. Priests of every god gathered, uttering loud prayers for the safety and well-being of the regent, king and heir, and bright banners flew from every vantage point. Tausret fostered the good will of the populace by ordering many cattle slaughtered and roasted, and released grain from the city granaries to make enough bread and beer to satisfy everyone.

  And so, amid an aura of celebration, the royal barge set out on its progress throughout the kingdoms. The captain shouted his commands, slaves slipped the mooring ropes, and the oarsmen dug deep into the cool green waters, easing the barge out into the current. No sail was raised to catch the light northerly wind, for the first part of the voyage lay within the delta, where the Great River divided and branched out, holding the rich farmlands of Ta Mehu within its encompassing arms.

  The sun shone warmly from the lapis vault of the heavens, a cool wind blew, and high above a circling hawk screamed. Members of the royal party, appreciative of the tensions that pulled at the unity of the coming reign, eagerly sought out any omen in their surroundings that could be interpreted as approval by the many gods of Kemet. The disc of Re was unblemished; Heru in the form of a hawk circled overhead and then dipped to the north, pointing the direction, and Hapi as god of the Great River ran smoothly, assisting them on their way. A ripple from a crocodile in the shallows spoke of Sobek's approval, and a flight of sacred ibis flying from west to east brought forth a murmur of joy from the watchers on board. Viewed correctly, almost any natural feature of land, sky or river could be viewed as an expression of the gods, and when the gods' approval was so desperately sought, those expressions were interpreted in a favourable way.

  Siptah sat in the bows, rejoicing as the barge, propelled by the sweep of oars, carved its way through the wide waters. He pointed and exclaimed as a fish broke the surface or a bird took flight, looking back to where his Uncle Bay sat, eager to share the wonders. For all that he was the new King of all Kemet; he was also a young boy of ten years and fidgeted with excitement.

  "I wish my father was here," Siptah said wistfully. "How did he die?"

  Bay frowned, debating how much information to offer his young nephew, how much sense the boy could make of recent events.

  "All men die," he replied quietly, "and your father, while not as old as Baenre or Usermaatre, was still older than many men. He is with the gods now."

  "He has ascended to Re? He was king after all, wasn't he?"

  Bay nodded. "He was king in the south."

  "But I will be king over all Kemet, won't I?" Siptah rubbed his hand over his shaved head, hesitating over the smooth surface where his side lock had been only days before.

  "You will indeed, Majesty. Queen Tausret will act as regent until you come of age, but you will be king."

  "I wish you'd be regent, Uncle. The Queen frightens me." Siptah shivered, despite the warmth of the sun, and looked back down the length of the boat to where Tausret sat with her baby in her arms. "Sometimes she looks at me as if...as if...I don't know...as if she wanted me dead. Is that silly, Uncle?"

  "Yes it is, Majesty. All the officials of the court and all the army commanders got together and persuaded the Queen that you should be king, and that her baby should be Crown Prince. She accepted our advice, so you should not worry about anything."

  Siptah thought about this for a time. "If little Seti is Crown Prince, then what happens when I get married and have a son of my own? Won't he then become Crown Prince?"

  "Again, Majesty, this is not something for you to worry about. That is why you have a regent and many advisers who love you. They have only your best interests at heart."

  "I suppose...oh, look, Uncle...did you see that fish? It leapt up and turned a somersault in the air. What do you suppose it means?"

  Bay smiled. "It might mean that a crocodile was chasing it, or it might just mean the fish was very happy and wanted to see the young boy who was its new king."

  Siptah laughed and stood up, stumbling a bit on his withered left leg. He gripped the prow of the boat and looked out over the river, letting loose a cry of pure joy.

  ***

  Heads turned as the laughter rang out and despite her worries, Tausret smiled. She restrained her child who had hauled himself to his feet and was attempting a shaky walk across the planking of the deck.

  "Someone's enjoying themselves, aren't they, dear Seti?" Tausret said.

  "Why shouldn't he?"

  Tausret looked round in surprise. "I did not see you there, Ament. I forget how small these boats are."

  "Your pardon if I intrude, Great Lady, but I couldn't help but overhear and I don't think little Seti is ready to give you an answer."

  Tausret smiled again. "Well, Siptah will find out all too soon what it means to be king. I don't begrudge him a little longer to play the child. I remember my own sense of wonder on the river when I wasn't much older than him."

  "I remember, Great Lady. You and..." Ament hesitated a moment, and then ploughed on. "When you and the king made the trip to Waset all those years ago. You might have been having fun but I certainly was not."

  "Poor Ament. Still you came out of it well enough."

  "Perhaps, though sometimes I wish for the simple life of the common soldier. None of the decisions and all I had to worry about was where my next pot of beer was coming from."

  "You wouldn't have Jerem and Ephrim in your life. How are they? I presume they're on your sister's estate?"

  Ament nodded. "Acting the uncles to her swarming brats, and loving every day."

  "How many now?"

  "Six, and she's expecting again."

  "The Kaftor are evidently a fertile breed." The smile on her face slipped and she hugged Seti close. "I wish he had brothers and sisters."

  Ament said nothing. He watched the Queen closely until it appeared as if the mood had lifted, and said, "Have you identified all your enemies, Great Lady?"

  "I'm not sure I have enemies now that Messuwy is dead. I h
ave you to thank for that, I know. You carried word to Setnakhte, and he made it happen. I could not have gone against my husband's wishes, though I begged him to do it, so the act is not unwelcome."

  "I merely did what I thought was best, and with respect, Great Lady, you are wrong. You still have enemies and one of them is up at the front of the boat, no doubt planning your downfall."

  "What? Siptah? He's but a boy."

  "I meant Chancellor Bay."

  Tausret looked troubled. "Bay has always been loyal."

  "Bay was always good at playing both sides. He was loyal to you while he advanced in your court, but I believe he fed information to Messuwy at the same time. Thus, whoever won the war, he could expect their gratitude."

  "Can you prove that?"

  Ament shook his head. "Rumours and hearsay. He's very careful."

  "And very powerful. Don't accuse him without proof, Ament. If you do, I may not be able to save you."

  Ament smiled. "I always thought of you as the most powerful person in Kemet after the king."

  "Oh, I'm the most powerful woman, but the laden table that is Kemet has been overturned, and while we are all picking up the pieces, none can yet say who will end up with the choicest dishes."

  "I have faith in you, Great Lady."

  "Thank you, Ament. Let us hope I have other loyal men who remember who their king was and who is his son."

  Ament looked across to where Tjaty Hori stood conversing with General Iurudef and Commander Besenmut of the Ptah legion. "You have some loyal men, Great Lady, and some who have yet to learn where their loyalty lies."

  ***

  Tjaty Hori looked up as if he felt Ament's gaze upon him. He glanced over to where the Commander stood near the Queen, and a slight frown wrinkled his brow. Iurudef had continued talking, but Hori had now lost the thread of the conversation.

  "I'm sorry," he muttered. "What did you say?"