“Have you gotten wind of another plot?” fretted Ahmeni.
“There won’t be just one. That’s why I’m here, with a few of my trusted assistants.”
“Guard snakes,” teased Ahsha, “the latest in security.”
“At least I have something concrete to contribute.”
“Criticizing diplomacy, are we?”
“It complicates everything, when life is basically simple. Good on one side, evil on the other, and nothing in between.”
“Your simplistic outlook is the problem,” retorted Ahsha.
“It suits me,” Ahmeni chimed in. “You’re either for Ramses or against him.”
“And what if the balance tips in the wrong direction?” asked Moses.
“My position will never change.”
“Soon Ramses will no longer be our friend, but Pharaoh of Egypt. He’ll view us differently.”
Moses’ words were disturbing. Everyone waited to hear how Ramses would answer.
“Moses is right. Since this burden has fallen to me, I accept it. And since you’re my friends, I’ll call on you for help.”
“What will you have us do?”
“The four of you have already gone far. I’ll ask you to join me on a new journey, seeking the greater good of Egypt.”
“You know where I stand,” declared Setau. “The minute you’re safe on the throne, I go back to my snakes.”
“I still plan to try and convince you to work with me.”
“Waste of time. When this security mission is over, I leave. Moses can be your master builder, Ahsha can head the Foreign Service, and more power to them!”
“Are you leaving any appointments for me to make?”
Setau shrugged.
“Why don’t we get started on the wine?” suggested Ahsha. “A rare vintage, the cellar master tells me.”
“I propose a toast,” said Ahmeni. “To Ramses’ health, and a long, full life in which to enjoy it, by the grace of the gods.”
Shaanar had sailed not with the regent, but on his own ship, a splendid vessel with a crew of forty. As chief of protocol, he had invited a party of notables, most of whom were no friends of Ramses. Seti’s older son carefully refrained from joining in their criticism, merely compiling a mental list of future supporters. The courtiers thought Ramses too young, too inexperienced to make a go of it.
He smugly noted that his own excellent reputation remained intact, while his brother would continue to suffer in comparison to Seti. There were already cracks in the foundation; the trick would be to expand them, further weakening the new Pharaoh’s base of power.
Shaanar’s guests sampled jujube fruit and cool beer. His mild manners and moderate opinions made him a favorite with the courtiers, who enjoyed basking in the limelight with an increasingly prominent member of the royal family.
For more than an hour, a man of average stature, with a trim goatee and a brightly striped tunic, had been waiting for an audience. He looked humble, almost submissive, yet calm and collected.
When he found a free moment, Shaanar motioned the man forward. He approached, bowing deferentially.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Raia. I come from Syria, but I’ve been a traveling merchant in Egypt for a number of years now.”
“Dealing in what?”
“Preserved meats and the finest Asian vases.”
Shaanar lifted an eyebrow. “Vases?”
“Yes, Sir Prince, I’m the exclusive distributor for some very fine manufacturers.”
“Do you know that I’m a collector?”
“So I was told just recently. I came here in hope of arranging a private showing for you.”
“Are your prices high?”
“That depends.”
Shaanar bit. “On what?”
From a sturdy cloth sack, Raia extracted a small, thin-lipped vase, solid silver, with a palmetto design. “What do you think of this, Sir Prince?”
Shaanar’s eyes widened. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead, his hands grew damp. “A masterpiece . . . an unbelievable masterpiece. How much?”
“A gift, to the future pharaoh of Egypt.”
Could he be hearing things? “I think you have your princes mixed up, my good man. My brother, Ramses, is the future pharaoh, not me. So name your price.”
“You’re the prince I want, all right. In my profession, there’s no room for mistakes.”
Shaanar tore his eyes away from the stunning vase. “What is your point?”
“That many people are displeased with Ramses.”
“He’ll be crowned in a matter of days.”
“So he may, but will that end the dissatisfaction?”
“Who are you, merchant?” challenged Shaanar.
“Raia, a man who believes in your future and wants to see you on the throne of Egypt.”
“What would you know of my intentions?”
“That you clearly wish to expand foreign trade, make Egypt less arrogantly insular, and improve relations with the most powerful kingdom in Asia.”
“You mean . . . the Hittites?”
“We understand each other.”
“Ah. You’re a secret agent. And your employers like what they see in me?”
Raia nodded affirmatively.
“What are you proposing?” asked Shaanar, as excited as if he were being offered another rare vase.
“Ramses is rash and war-loving. Like his father, he wants to flex Egypt’s muscle. You, Sir Prince, are a reasonable man, better able to come to terms with foreign powers.”
“If I betray Egypt, Raia, I’m risking my life.”
Shaanar recalled how Tutankhamon’s widow had been condemned to death for her dealings with the Hittites, even though she was attempting to protect the throne.
“A certain amount of risk is to be expected on the way to the top.”
Shaanar closed his eyes. The Hittites . . . Naturally, he’d considered them as a weapon to use against Ramses, but that was no more than idle speculation. Now, suddenly, the idea sprang to life in the form of this ordinary, harmless-looking merchant.
“I love my country . . .”
“No one would doubt it. But you love power more. And only an alliance with the Hittites will put it in your hands.”
“I need to think this over.”
“I’m afraid I can’t indulge you.”
“You want my answer now?”
“My own safety is at stake, now that you know who I am.”
“And if I refuse?”
Raia did not respond, but his expression became fixed and unreadable.
Shaanar had little trouble convincing himself that it was meant to be. He would handle his powerful new partner with the utmost care, exploiting the Hittites without endangering Egypt. Ahsha, of course, would have to be kept in the dark, though he could still be of use.
“It’s a deal, Raia.”
The merchant smiled faintly.
“You live up to your reputation, Sir Prince. I’ll be in touch with you every now and again. Now that I’m supplying vases for your collection, there’s no reason for me not to visit. Take this one, please, to seal our bargain.”
Shaanar closed his hands around the silver curves. The future was looking brighter already.
TWELVE
Ramses had memorized every parched and rocky inch of the Valley of the Kings, the “Great Place” he had first visited with his father. Seti had shown him the tomb of his own father, the first Ramses, their dynasty’s founder, an elderly vizier selected to succeed the childless Horemheb. After only two years he passed on, entrusting his son with the mission of reasserting Egypt’s power, a power now invested in Ramses II.
The stifling summer heat felled some of the servants carrying furnishings for Seti’s tomb, but it seemed to have no effect on Ramses. Heartsick, he marched at the head of the procession transporting his father’s mummy to its final resting place.
Ramses felt a rush of hatred for the place tha
t was claiming his father, leaving him so alone. Then the familiar magic took over: the Valley radiated life, not death.
The stony silence rang with the voices of the old ones. They spoke of light, transfiguration, resurrection. They demanded worship and respect for the celestial world that gave rise to all forms of life.
Ramses was the first to set foot inside Seti’s vast tomb, the longest and deepest carved into the Valley. Once he was Pharaoh, he planned to decree that no other tomb surpass its dimensions. In the eyes of posterity, Seti would remain without equal.
Twelve priests carried in the mummy. Clad in a panther skin, Ramses was to conduct the rites of judgment and rebirth. Ritual texts on the walls of the tomb would guide his father on the journey and serve his soul through all eternity.
Seti’s mummy was a masterpiece of the embalmers’ art. He looked perfectly at peace with himself and his life on earth, as if at any minute the eyes might open, the lips might speak . . . The priests placed the lid on the sarcophagus, to be enclosed in a gilded shrine where Isis would work her alchemy, making the Pharaoh’s mortal remains immortal.
“Seti was a just ruler,” murmured Ramses. “He upheld the law of Ma’at and was beloved of the light. He walks living into the West.”
All over Egypt barbers toiled, shaving off beards now that the official mourning was over. Women again pinned up their hair, and society ladies summoned their hairdressers.
On the eve of the coronation, Ramses and Nefertari gathered their thoughts in the temple of Gurnah, where mortuary prayers for Seti would henceforth be said on a continuous basis, maintaining his ka—his spiritual essence—and affirming his presence among the living. Then the couple proceeded to the temple of Karnak to see the high priest, who welcomed them with cold formality. After a frugal dinner, the regent and his wife withdrew to the royal quarters within the god Amon’s earthly residence. Each of them meditated before a separate throne, symbolizing the primordial mound that emerged from the ocean of energy at the beginning of time. It figured in the hieroglyph for Ma’at, the timeless law, “She Who Is Righteous and Gives Good Direction,” the law that they must embody and impart to their subjects.
Ramses had the feeling his father was close at hand, seeing him through these last tense hours before his life changed forever. As king, his life would no longer be his own. His only care would be for his people’s welfare and his nation’s prosperity.
Once again, the prospect overwhelmed him.
He wished he could flee this palace within a temple, take refuge in his lost youth, Iset the Fair, the carefree pleasure they once knew. But now he was Seti’s designated successor and Nefertari’s husband. He would have to master his fear and ride out this one last night before his coronation.
The shadows parted and dawn came forth, announcing the sun’s rebirth. Once more it had won the nightly struggle with the monster from the depths. Two masked priests, one in the guise of a falcon, the other an ibis, stood on either side of Ramses. They symbolized the gods Horus, protector of royalty, and Thoth, master of hieroglyphs and sacred learning. Pouring the contents of two tall vases over the prince’s naked body, they cleansed him of his humanity. Then they remade him in the image of the gods, applying nine different unguents in the order, head to toe, that would open his energy centers and give him a perception of reality different from other men’s.
The ritual garments also helped construct his new and unique identity. The two priests dressed the prince in a kilt of white and gold, the same as the first pharaohs wore. On the sash, they hung a bull’s tail, the emblem of royal potency, that recalled to Ramses the terrifying encounter with a wild bull his father had arranged as a test of his youthful courage. Now he would embody the bull’s power, which he must learn to exercise with care.
Then the ritualists fastened a large jeweled collar, with seven rows of colored beads, around his neck, placed copper bracelets on his wrists and upper arms, and shod him in white sandals. They presented him with the white club he would use to strike down his enemies and make the darkness into light. Around his forehead they tied the golden band called sia, meaning “intuitive seeing.”
“Do you accept the ordeal of power?” asked the Horus priest.
“I do.”
Horus and Thoth took Ramses by the hands and led him into another room. On a throne were the crowns of the Two Lands. Protecting them was a priest wearing the mask of the god Set.
Thoth stepped aside as the brothers Horus and Set embraced. Despite their eternal rivalry, they were bound together in the person of the Pharaoh.
Horus lifted the red crown of lower Egypt, basket-shaped with a spiral flaring in front. On top of it, Set placed the white bulb-shaped war helmet of upper Egypt.
“The two powers are united in you,” declared Thoth. “You govern and unify the black land and the red land, you are the rushes of the south and the beehive of the north, you make both lands green.
“You alone will be able to lay a hand on these two crowns,” revealed Set. “Within them is thunder to strike down any usurper.”
Horus gave the Pharaoh two scepters. The first was called “Mastery of Power” and was used to bless offerings. The other, known as “Magic,” was a shepherd’s crook serving to keep his people together.
“The time has come to appear in glory,” Thoth decreed.
Preceded by the three god-priests, Pharaoh left the temple’s hidden rooms, heading for the huge inner courtyard where the privileged few allowed within the temple gates had gathered.
On a platform, beneath a dais, was a gilded wooden throne, rather modest and squarely built. Seti’s throne, the one he had used on official occasions.
Sensing her son’s hesitation, Tuya took three steps in his direction and bowed low.
“May Your Majesty rise like a new sun and take his place on the throne of the living.”
Ramses was deeply moved by this welcome from the Pharaoh’s widow, the Queen Mother he would worship until the end of his days.
“This is the testament of the gods that Seti left you. As it legitimized his reign, so will it yours, so will it your successor’s.” Tuya handed Ramses a leather case containing a papyrus written in Thoth’s own hand, at the dawn of civilization, declaring Pharaoh the heir to Egypt.
“Here are your five royal names,” continued Tuya in her clear, steady voice.
“Strong Bull, Beloved of Ma’at,
Protector of Egypt, He Who Binds Up Foreign Lands,
Rich in Armies, Powerful in Victories,
Chosen of the God of Light, Powerful in His Rule,
Ra-Begot-Him: Son of Light.”
Total silence fell as she chanted the titles. Even Shaanar felt the poison of ambition drain from him as he surrendered to the magic of the moment.
“A royal couple rules the Two Lands,” Tuya said now. “Step forward, Nefertari. Take your place beside the king as his Great Royal Wife and Queen of Egypt.”
Despite the solemnity of the occasion, Ramses was so entranced by his bride’s fresh beauty that he wished he could take her in his arms. In a long linen gown, with a golden collar, amethyst earrings, and jasper bracelets, she gazed at the king and repeated the time-honored formula:
“I recognize Horus and Set united in one being. I sing your name, Pharaoh, you are yesterday, today, and tomorrow. I live through your word and will keep you from evil and danger.”
“I recognize you as Queen of the North and South and of all lands, lady of utmost sweetness who pleases the gods, who is mother and wife of the god, who has my love.”
Ramses set a crown on Nefertari’s head. Its two tall plumes declared her Great Royal Wife and associate ruler.
Like a blot on the sun, a falcon spread its wings, circling above the new king and queen, then dove for them so suddenly no royal archer had time to react.
A cry of horror and disbelief rose from the onlookers as the raptor landed on the new king’s back, digging its claws into his shoulders. Ramses stood absolutely motionless;
Nefertari stared.
Time stood still as the awestricken courtiers registered the miracle. The falcon was Horus, protector of the monarchy. This man was truly chosen to govern Egypt!
The falcon flew back toward the sun, strong and serene.
A single cheer proclaimed Year One of the reign of Ramses, beginning this twenty-seventh day of the third month of summer.*
THIRTEEN
As soon as the ceremony was over, Ramses was swept up in a whirlwind of activities.
The chief steward of the Pharaoh’s household had him inspect his palace at Thebes, both public rooms and private quarters. As head of state, he toured the grand reception room bedecked with columns, mosaics, and wall paintings in lotus, papyrus, fish, and bird motifs; the smaller private audience chambers; the scribes’ offices; the balcony for official appearances, a winged solar disk above its window; the dining room with a table in the middle laden night and day with baskets of fruit and flower arrangements; the bedchamber with colored pillows piled high on the bed; the tiled bathroom.
Ramses was introduced to the members of his household: the priests in charge of secret rituals, the scribes of the House of Life, the physicians, the chamberlain who superintended the private quarters, the head of the royal messenger service, the royal treasury, granary, livestock, and so on, all eager to meet their brand-new pharaoh and assure him of their continuing devotion.
“And this is . . .”
Ramses got to his feet. “That’s the end.”
“Majesty, please!” the chief steward spluttered. “So many important people . . .”
“More important than I am?”
“Pardon me, I didn’t mean . . .”
“Take me to the kitchens.”
“That’s not your place!”
“Who would know better than I where I belong?”
“Pardon, I . . .”
“Do you pass all your time finding excuses? I’d rather hear why the vizier and the high priest of Amon weren’t here to pay their respects to me.”
“I have no idea, Your Majesty. That’s completely beyond the scope of my authority.”
Ramses, Volume II Page 6