“Is the office staff in on it, too?”
“Just one scribe and two warehouse foremen. Since the linen we take is never logged, there’s no way to trace it. A pretty good setup, eh?”
“Aren’t you afraid of getting caught?”
“It’s foolproof.”
“But if someone talked . . .”
“Even if they did, no one would get excited, believe me. Now tell me how much of a cut you want.”
“The same as the scribe, or whoever gets the best deal.”
“You’ve got nerve! I think we can work together. In a few years we’ll both have a nice little nest egg and we won’t have to work our tails off. How about finishing up this shipment?”
Bakhen nodded and went back to work.
Nefertari laid her head on Ramses’ shoulder as the sunrise flooded their bedroom with light. Both of them venerated this daily miracle, this renewed victory over darkness. Celebrating the morning rites, they associated themselves with the solar bark’s journey through the realms of darkness, the gods’ nightly battle with the monster intent on destroying all of creation.
“I need your magic, Nefertari. This won’t be an easy day.”
“So your mother agrees with me about Karnak?”
“Sometimes I have the feeling you’re in league with her.”
“We do see things the same way,” she admitted with a smile.
“The two of you have convinced me. Today I plan to dismiss the high priest of Amon.”
“Why did you wait this long?”
“I needed proof of mismanagement.”
“And you got it?”
“I put Bakhen on the case. My old combat instructor turned priest. He uncovered a ring of warehouse workers skimming linen and reselling it. That means the high priest is either corrupt himself or no longer knows what goes on at Karnak. In either case, he needs to be replaced.”
“Is Bakhen trustworthy?”
“He’s young, but devoted to Karnak. What he uncovered disturbed him deeply. He knew he was honor-bound to report the wrongdoing he witnessed, yet I practically had to drag it out of him. Bakhen would never inform on others for the sake of his own advancement.”
“When will you be seeing the high priest?”
“First thing this morning. I’m sure he’ll deny any involvement and claim I’m accusing him falsely.”
“Why are you so hesitant?”
“I’m afraid he’ll retaliate by interfering with food redistribution. That’s the price I’ll have to pay for avoiding civil war.”
Her husband’s grave tone impressed Nefertari. This was no tyrant locked in a power struggle with a rival, but a pharaoh willing to take huge risks to preserve the unity of the Two Lands.
“I have a confession to make,” she said dreamily.
“You knew more than you were telling me about Karnak?”
“Nothing of the sort.”
“Then my mother is using you as her messenger.”
“Wrong again.”
“Does it have anything to do with the high priest’s dismissal?”
“No, though it may affect the future of the kingdom.”
“How long do you plan to keep me in suspense?”
“A few more months. Ramses, I’m pregnant.”
He sheltered Nefertari gently in his strong arms. “The best doctors in the country will be at your side every moment.”
“Don’t fret so.”
“How can I keep from worrying? I want our child, but your life and health mean even more to me.”
“I’ll have the best possible care.”
“Suppose I order you to cut back on your public appearances?”
“No. I’m your partner, remember?”
Ramses was growing restless. By now the high priest was so late that his conduct bordered on an insult. What possible excuse could he offer? If he’d gotten wind of Bakhen’s revelations, he was probably trying to stall the investigation, destroying evidence and discharging ringleaders and witnesses—tactics that would ultimately backfire.
As the sun reached its zenith, the Fourth Prophet of Amon requested an audience. The king admitted him at once.
“Where is the First Prophet and High Priest of Amon?” he demanded.
“He died just before noon, Your Majesty.”
TWENTY-FOUR
A conclave was held by order of the Pharaoh. In attendance were the Second, Third, and Fourth Prophets of Amon at Karnak, as well as the high priests and priestesses of the nation’s other major cult centers. The only ones failing to heed the call were the prelates of Dendera and Athribis, the former being too old and infirm to travel, the latter too ill to leave his residence in the Delta. They were represented by two delegates with full voting powers.
This distinguished company met in a hall of Tuthmosis III’s complex at Karnak, the pharaoh of whom it was said “His Monument Shines like the Sun.” Here the high priests of Amon were ordained, here they received instruction in their duties.
“I need to consult with you,” declared Ramses, “to choose the new head of this great institution.”
There was a murmur of approval. Perhaps this young pharaoh was not as impulsive as some claimed!
“I thought by rights the Second Prophet assumed his functions,” offered the high priest of Memphis.
“I don’t consider seniority a sufficient criterion.”
“May I encourage Your Majesty not to rule seniority out entirely?” chimed in the Third Prophet of Amon. “In the secular domain, it is no doubt possible to fill high positions from the outside, but that would be a mistake where Karnak is concerned. A man of experience, a man of honor—”
“Honor! Since you bring it up, were you aware that employees have been stealing temple property within these very walls?”
An astonished rumble greeted the king’s revelation.
“The culprits have been arrested and sentenced to work as weavers, since their crime was reselling linen. They will never again set foot inside a temple.”
“Our late prelate . . . was he implicated in the affair?”
“Apparently not, but you can understand why I’m hesitant to appoint one of his assistants.”
A stunned silence greeted the Pharaoh’s remarks.
“Does Your Majesty have a name to put forward?” asked the high priest of Heliopolis.
“I expect this conclave to propose a serious candidate.”
“How much time do we have?”
“According to custom, it is now my duty to visit a certain number of towns and temples, accompanied by the queen and select members of the court. Upon my return, you will inform me of the outcome of your deliberations.”
Before leaving on the tour of Egypt that was a traditional part of the first year of a pharaoh’s reign, Ramses visited the temple of Gurnah, on the West Bank of Thebes. Here Seti’s ka was maintained in perpetuity. Each day, specially trained mortuary priests placed offerings of meat, bread, fruits, and vegetables on the altars and recited litanies to safeguard the immortal presence of the late king’s soul.
The king contemplated one of the reliefs that depicted his father, forever young, addressing the gods. Ramses implored Seti’s spirit to come out of the stone, burst forth from the walls, and surround him with all the force of an astral being.
With each passing day, Ramses had grown more acutely aware of Seti’s absence, until it became both a trial and a summons. A trial, because he could no longer seek the advice of a knowing, generous mentor; a summons, since his dead father’s voice unceasingly urged him to forge ahead, no matter what obstacles lay in his path.
In plush Theban villas, under shopkeepers’ awnings, on doorsteps where mothers sat nursing babies, the topic of conversation was the same: which members of the court would Ramses and Nefertari take with them on their tour of the Two Lands, as the new pharaoh staked his claim in the pantheon of gods?
Everyone knew someone who had firsthand knowledge from a source close to the king or f
rom a palace employee. It was widely held that the royal fleet would first head south, to Aswan, then turn around and sail down the Nile to the Delta. The crews had been told that the pace would be intense, with frequent short stops. There was general rejoicing that this rite of passage would be accomplished in good time, that the new king and queen would maintain the harmonious law of Ma’at.
As soon as the fleet was under way, Ahmeni buried Ramses in a pile of briefs he was supposed to study before meeting with the nine provincial leaders, the temple administrators, and the mayors of the major population centers. The king’s private secretary provided him with a biography of each important personage he would meet, outlining career, family situation, stated avowed ambitions, relations with other political leaders. When the information was less than solid or had not been verified, Ahmeni made note of the fact.
“This is a gold mine!” Ramses exclaimed. “How many days and nights have you spent putting it together?”
“I don’t keep track. My only concern is accurate information. Without that, what basis is there for government?”
“Just skimming your masterpiece, I see that Shaanar has a network of rich, influential supporters.”
“Does that come as any surprise?”
“I didn’t realize how broad his base is.”
“More hearts and minds for you to win over.”
“You’re an optimist.”
“You’re the king and you’re meant to reign. Everything else is besides the point.”
“Don’t you ever rest?”
“I can rest when I’m dead. As long as I’m your sandal-bearer, it’s my job to smooth the way for you. I’m your advance man, aren’t I? Now try this camp stool out for me.”
The Pharaoh’s folding stool consisted of a leather seat on a sturdy frame. The legs broadened into duck’s heads, encrusted with ivory.
“I’ve drilled your entourage,” Ahmeni assured him. “Everything will be taken care of along the way. Your meals will be up to palace standards.”
“You’re even serious about food,” teased Ramses.
“First of all, good food guarantees long life. Second, moderation in food and drink preserves energy and concentration. I’ve sent couriers ahead instructing the mayors and high priests in the cities where we’ll be stopping to find lodging for all the members of our group. You and the queen, of course, will stay in the palaces.”
“Have you made arrangements for Nefertari?”
“What do you think?” Ahmeni huffed. “Your wife’s condition is of national concern. Her cabin is well ventilated and as quiet as we can make it. Five physicians will be on call and you’ll receive daily updates. Just one small problem . . .”
“Concerning Nefertari?”
“No, concerning the landing stages. I’ve had alarming reports about the state of certain river ports, but I’m skeptical. I think the provincial governors are simply looking for another handout. Fair enough, in view of your tour, but you mustn’t cave in to pressure. You’ll have to decide each case as you see it.”
“How are our relations with the two viziers?”
“Terrible, from their point of view, but from ours, excellent. The viziers of the north and south are solid public servants, but overcautious. They live in fear of being fired. Keep them on. They’d never dare betray you.”
“I was thinking . . .”
“Of appointing me vizier? I hope not. I’m of far more use to you in my present capacity. I can work behind the scenes, without a huge bureaucracy to drag me down.”
“Tell me how the courtiers feel about being invited.”
“Thrilled to be included, but not too happy about Serramanna’s security checks. He views every one of them as a potential criminal. I register their complaints. Then I file them away. Your Sard is doing an excellent job, and he can’t be too careful.”
“My dog and my lion are helping, too.”
“They’ll be well looked after.”
“How is Romay working out?”
“I’ve had glowing reports. You’d think he’d been your chief steward for ages. Your household has never run more smoothly. Your instinct didn’t fail you.”
“Is Nedjem having as much success?”
“He takes his role as secretary of agriculture very seriously. Spends a couple of hours every day quizzing me on administrative matters, then confers with his technical advisers. He won’t see much of the scenery on this trip!”
“And my beloved brother?”
“Shaanar’s ship is a floating palace. He’s been hosting receptions right and left, proclaiming the future glories of Ramses’ Egypt.”
“And he thinks I’ll fall for that?”
“It’s not as insincere as you might think. He really seems excited about the appointment.”
“Are you saying that Shaanar may actually begin to support me?”
“In his heart of hearts, of course not. But the man is clever and knows how far he can go. You had the foresight to indulge his taste for power and keep him in the limelight. Let’s hope he enjoys it too much to make any trouble.”
“Let’s pray he does.”
“Time for bed now. Tomorrow will be a long day: at least ten audiences and three receptions. Will your bunk be comfortable?”
“Bunk?” thought Ramses. He had a headrest, a mattress of plaited skeins of hemp attached to a mortise-and-tenon frame, with lion’s feet on the four legs, a footrest decorated with cornflowers, poppies, and lotus blossoms to sweeten his sleep.
“You’ll need more pillows,” noted the secretary.
“One is enough.”
“Heavens, no!” Ahmeni protested. “Look at this paltry excuse for a pillow,” he said, plucking it from the head of the bed.
Then he recoiled, stiff with horror, as the black scorpion he had uncovered stirred and prepared to attack.
TWENTY-FIVE
Serramanna was nearly inconsolable. He simply couldn’t fathom how a scorpion had been sneaked into the Pharaoh’s cabin. Close questioning of the servants yielded no results.
“They’re not involved,” the Sard informed Ramses. “I need to talk to your chief steward.”
Romay had little use for Serramanna, yet did not protest when the king requested him to cooperate in the investigation.
“How many of your staff have access to the royal bedchamber?” probed the bodyguard.
“Five. Well, five from the permanent staff.”
“What does that mean?”
“Occasionally I need to use temporary workers.”
“Any at our last stop?”
“I did hire one man to take the bed linens in to the local laundry.”
“What was his name?”
“It’s in the payroll ledger.”
“Don’t bother checking,” said the king. “He would have used an assumed name, and besides, we won’t have time to turn back and track him down.”
“No one told me about this outside hiring! You’ve made a mockery of my security measures!”
“Has something happened?” asked Romay, staring.
“That’s for me to know! In the future, I want to search every single person boarding His Majesty’s ship. I don’t care whether it’s a general, a priest, or a street sweeper.”
Romay turned toward Ramses, who nodded his agreement.
“What about meals?”
“One of your cooks will taste every dish under my supervision.”
“As you like.”
Once Romay was out of the cabin, Serramanna slammed his fist into a beam, so hard that the wood cracked. “That scorpion wouldn’t have killed you, Majesty,” the giant offered, “but it would have made you good and sick.”
“And I’d have had to give up the rest of the tour . . . a sign of the gods’ disapproval. That’s how someone wanted to make it look.”
“It won’t happen again,” promised the bodyguard.
“I’m afraid it may, as long as we don’t know who’s behind it.”
&nbs
p; Serramanna frowned.
“Do you suspect anyone?” asked the king.
“Men aren’t always as grateful as they should be.”
“Out with it, man.”
“Romay is in the perfect position . . . He could have been lying about the outside help.”
“Go ahead and investigate.”
“It’s my job,” said Serramanna.
Stop after stop, the new king and queen’s grand tour was a triumph. Ramses’ presence and Nefertari’s charm won over every provincial governor, high priest, mayor, and other notables. Ramses made sure not to downplay his older brother, considering Shaanar’s extensive contacts and the general relief at his appointment to the State Department. In the first place, it showed that there was no serious division within the royal family; furthermore, the prince’s love of country and vision for Egypt would guarantee a strong defense policy, essential for preserving civilization from barbarian attack.
In each new town, the royal pair paid homage to Tuya, who inspired reverence whenever she appeared. Frail, silent, low-key, Tuya’s mere presence represented continuity and legitimacy.
As the fleet neared Abydos, the cult center of Osiris, Ramses summoned his friend Ahsha to the prow of the flagship. No matter what the hour or day, the young diplomat was unruffled and impeccable.
“Glad you came along, Ahsha?”
“Your Majesty is winning the hearts of his subjects, which is well and good.”
“Everyone loves a pharaoh,” said Ramses ironically.
“Even if you’re dealing with hypocrites, at least they acknowledge your authority.”
“What do you think of Shaanar’s new position?”
“A bit unconventional.”
“In other words, it shocked you.”
“I have no right to question Pharaoh’s decisions.”
“Do you consider my brother incompetent?”
“In the current international climate, diplomacy is a highly skilled profession.”
“Who would dare to challenge Egypt’s might?”
“Your personal triumph here at home mustn’t blind you to the Hittite threat. The enemy realizes you’re going to take a hard line against them, so they’ll dig in. They may even be considering direct aggression.”
Ramses, Volume II Page 12