“As I said, I’m a soldier, but I wouldn’t rule out the possibility of a truce as long as it wouldn’t weaken Hatti’s position.”
Ahsha relaxed.
“I told Ramses that you were a statesman, and I was right. If you wish, we can reach a peace agreement.”
“We’ll see. But you still haven’t told me what I want to know. Where do you get your information?”
“From officers who secretly side with Hattusili, although they pretend they’re supporting you.”
The revelation hit Uri-Teshoop like a thunderbolt.
“Hattusili will never agree to a peace treaty,” Ahsha continued, “or even a truce. His only goal is putting together another coalition, as he did at Kadesh, and crushing our troops.”
“I want names, Ahsha.”
“Shall we join forces against Hattusili?”
Uri-Teshoop suddenly felt his muscles tense, as they did when combat approached. Using an Egyptian to get rid of his rival was an unexpected twist of fate, an opportunity he couldn’t pass up.
“Help me eliminate those traitors, Ahsha, and you’ll have your truce. Maybe more.”
Ahsha named names. Each one he gave was like a stab wound. The list included some of Uri-Teshoop’s staunchest supporters, even commanding officers who’d fought alongside him, claiming they already considered him emperor-to-be.
Livid, Uri-Teshoop lumbered toward the door.
“Just one more thing,” Ahsha said suavely. “Could you please send my lady friend back in?”
THIRTY-SIX
Hiking the Aswan granite quarries with Bakhen, Ramses could picture his father selecting stone for obelisks and statues. At seventeen, he had had the good fortune to discover this magical place with Seti as the Pharaoh hunted for veins of perfect granite. Today it was he, Ramses, who led the search and relied on the same ability.
He used Seti’s old divining rod, allowing the earth’s secret currents to pass through his hands. The world of men was only an outgrowth from the primordial ocean of energy, to which it would return when the gods created a new cycle of life. The earth’s core, like the sky, was rife with metamorphosis; a perceptive mind could be trained to catch its echoes.
Outwardly, the quarry was lifeless, a closed and forbidding world, unbearably hot for most of the year. Yet it generously yielded its peerless granite, the material that made Egypt’s tombs and temples endure.
Ramses suddenly came to a halt.
“Dig here,” he ordered Bakhen. “You’ll find a monolith you can make into a colossal statue for the Ramesseum. Have you talked to your workmen?”
“They all volunteered to go to Nubia. I had to restrict the number. Your Majesty, I don’t like asking for favors, but . . .”
“Go ahead, Bakhen.”
“May I go along on the expedition?”
“I have a good reason for turning you down: your appointment as Third Prophet of Amon at Karnak requires your presence in Thebes.”
“I wasn’t expecting a promotion,” said Bakhen, flushing.
“I know, but your superior Nebu and I have decided that you’re ready for more responsibility. You’ll assist the high priest, make sure the estates continue to prosper, and oversee construction of my Eternal Temple. Thanks to you, Nebu’s load will be lightened.”
Hand over heart, Bakhen swore to discharge the duties of his new position.
The inundation was substantial, yet not so high as to damage the dikes, canals, and cropland. The water level made the journey easier for the royal couple, their escort, and the quarrymen. The churning rapids of the First Cataract gave way to eddies and whirlpools that made the going dangerous. There were sudden dropoffs and huge waves that might tip any boat incorrectly laden. The sailors took a wealth of precautions to sweep a channel through which the royal fleet could pass.
Ordinarily mellow and indifferent to human agitation, Fighter seemed on edge. The enormous lion was eager to be back in his native Nubia. Ramses calmed him, stroking the beast’s thick mane.
Two men asked to come aboard and requested an audience with the king. The first, a scribe in charge of Nilometer recording, presented his report.
“Your Majesty, the water level has reached twenty-one cubits, three and one-third palms.”
“Sounds excellent.”
“Quite satisfactory, Your Majesty. This year will see no irrigation problems in your kingdom.”
The other visitor was the chief of police from Elephantine. The news he brought was much less reassuring.
“Your Majesty, there’s been a sighting of someone who corresponds to the description you broadcast. He went through a customs checkpoint.”
“Why wasn’t the man stopped?”
“The officer in charge was away, and no one wanted to take the responsibility, especially since the man’s papers were in order.”
Ramses held his anger in check.
“What else?”
“The suspect chartered a clipper heading south. He claimed to be a traveling merchant.”
“What was his cargo?”
“Jars of dried beef for the forts near the Second Cataract.”
“When did this happen?”
“A week ago.”
“Circulate his description to all the fort commanders and say that they should arrest him on sight.”
Relieved to escape without a reprimand, the policeman hurried off to do as told.
“Shaanar is heading us off in Nubia,” Nefertari concluded. “Do you think it’s wise to pursue our journey?”
“What do we have to fear from a fugitive?”
“Who knows what he may do? His hatred has reached the point of madness.”
“I won’t let Shaanar keep us from reaching our destination. There’s no denying his intent to harm us, Nefertari, but it doesn’t frighten me. One day we’ll meet face to face. My brother will bow to his sovereign and take his punishment from the gods.”
The king and queen embraced. This moment of communion only strengthened Ramses’ determination.
A wary Setau was jumping from boat to boat, checking them stem to stern, examining the cargo, tightening the ropes, testing the sails, pounding on the rudders. Sailing was not his favorite pastime, and he had no faith in overconfident sailors. Fortunately the river authorities had made sure there was a broad channel, clear of reefs, navigable even at flood stage. Yet the snake charmer would not feel truly safe until he set foot on dry land for good.
Back in his cabin on the royal flagship, Setau inventoried his supplies. Jars with philters, vials, and assorted flasks filled with solid and liquid remedies, baskets for various sizes of snakes, grinders, mortars and pestles, bronze razors, small sacks of lead oxide and copper filings, pots of honey, gourds . . . practically nothing was missing.
Humming an old Nubian tune, Lotus was folding kilts and tunics, tucking them into wooden chests. In the rising heat she was naked; her feline movements intrigued Setau.
“The ships seem to be in good shape,” he said as he caught her by the waist.
“Did you check them out thoroughly?”
“You know how thorough I am.”
“Go have another look at the masts. I need to finish the packing.”
“It can wait.”
“I like things in their place.”
Setau’s loincloth fell to the cabin floor. “Then wouldn’t you have a place for this?”
Lotus yielded to her husband’s logic, as well as his knowing hands.
“You’re taking advantage of me just when I’m almost home in Nubia.”
“What better way is there to celebrate than making love?”
As the convoy of ships continued southward, the crowds grew thicker. A few bold urchins, using reeds for flotation, began to follow the fleet as far as the channel. On everyone’s mind was the fact that the royal couple would offer the people a banquet, and the beer would flow like water.
The vessels built for the journey to Nubia were real floating palaces, both solid an
d comfortable. Equipped with a single center mast and a huge sail attached with a tangle of ropes, they had twin rudders, one each on the port and starboard sides. The cabins were spacious and well appointed, with strategic openings for ventilation.
Once past the cataract, the fleet picked up speed again.
Nefertari had been planning to invite Setau and Lotus for a drink in her cabin, but the sighs and laughter behind their door dissuaded her from knocking. Amused, the queen leaned her elbows on the prow beside Fighter, who was busily sniffing the Nubian air.
The Great Royal Wife thanked the gods for giving her so much happiness, a feeling she must in turn shower on her people. She had begun her career as a shy, quiet lute player, destined to serve in obscurity. Now she led a prodigious existence at Ramses’ side.
With each new dawn her love for him grew with the serene power of a magic link that nothing and no one could ever shatter. If Ramses had been a farmer or stoneworker, Nefertari would have loved him just as ardently. But fate had assigned them a special role, precluding selfish thoughts of their personal feelings. They must constantly focus on the civilization that was their legacy and that they must pass intact to their own successors.
THIRTY-SEVEN
In places it flowed straight, direct and proud. In others it curved lazily, hugging a village that rang with childish laughter. This was the Nile of the Deep South, majestic as its celestial counterpart. Between parched hills and granite islands, it created a slim band of greenery, studded with dum palms. Cranes, ibises, flamingos, and pelicans hovered above the royal fleet as it confronted the absolutes of blue sky and desert.
When the king went ashore, the natives came to dance around the royal tent. Ramses conferred with the tribal chiefs. Setau and Lotus registered their complaints and requests. Evenings were spent around the fire, in praise of the great river, the inundation, and the name of Ramses the Great, guardian of Egypt and of Nubia.
Nefertari became aware that the Pharaoh was a god in the making; since the victory at Kadesh, the story of the battle had been repeated throughout the land, even in the most remote villages. Seeing Nefertari and Ramses in person was considered a gift from the gods. Amon’s spirit had strengthened Ramses’ sword arm, it was said, and Hathor projected her love through Nefertari.
The north wind died down, slowing their progress. Ramses and Nefertari enjoyed the pace, spending most of their time on the bridge in the shade of a parasol. Fighter was back in his usual mellow mood, dozing nearby.
The golden sand and the purity of the desert seemed like echoes from the other world. The closer the royal fleet drew to Hathor’s domain, a forgotten region where the goddess fashioned a miraculous stone, the more Nefertari felt they were on the brink of a major accomplishment, a link to the origin of all things.
The nights were delicious.
In the royal couple’s cabin stood Ramses’ favorite bed, the mattress made of twisted skeins of hemp attached to the mortise-and-tenon frame. Twin straps kept it flexible. The frame was reinforced for strength. The bedstead was decorated with papyrus flowers, bachelor’s button, and mandrake twining around the papyrus stalks and lotus blossoms that represented the north and the south of Egypt. Even in his sleep, Pharaoh united the Two Lands.
The nights were delicious, for in the heat of the Nubian summer Ramses’ love was as vast as the starry sky.
Thanks to the small fortune in silver Ofir had furnished, Shaanar was able to hire about fifty Nubian fishermen, eager to better their lot even if it meant taking part in a wild and dangerous escapade. Most of them viewed the Egyptian as a rich thrill seeker. If he wanted to support their families for the next several years, who were they to complain?
Shaanar disliked Nubia. He suffered in the heat, sweating through the day. Yet even though he was forced to drink huge amounts of water and eat bad food, he was where he wanted to be. His latest strategy was sure to be the end of Ramses.
This country, however hateful, would furnish him with a cohort of ruthless killers that Ramses’ soldiers would be unable to repel. The Nubians were difficult to discipline, perhaps, but fearless in battle.
He settled down to wait for Ramses’ flagship.
The Viceroy of Nubia whiled away the days in his comfortable palace at Buhen near the Second Cataract. Several fortresses in the vicinity kept him safe from any Nubian aggression. In the past, tribal chiefs had rebelled, attempting to invade Egypt; the government therefore decided to reinforce the frontier with impressive strongholds whose regularly rotated garrisons earned top pay.
Also known by the title “Royal Son of Kush” (after a Nubian province), the viceroy had one overriding preoccupation: the mining of gold and its transport to Thebes, Memphis, and Pi-Ramses. Goldsmiths there worked the precious metal, “the flesh of the gods,” on monumental doors, temple walls, and statues; Pharaoh used it to underwrite his diplomatic relations with several countries, buying their cooperation.
The viceroy’s post was sought after, for although it required long absences from the homeland, it meant the chance to govern a huge stretch of territory with the support of an established military presence, including many native soldiers among its ranks. The present viceroy, fearing no unrest, was able to indulge his taste for fine food, music, and poetry. His wife, after giving him four children, was fiercely jealous, curtailing his enjoyment of Nubia’s tantalizing young women. A divorce would be too costly, since his wife would be granted a generous settlement as well as maintenance.
The viceroy loathed any threat to his tranquil existence. Now this dispatch announcing the arrival of the royal couple, not even specifying the purpose of their visit or when they’d arrive in Buhen! And another dispatch calling for the arrest of Shaanar, Ramses’ older brother, long given up for dead and drastically changed in appearance. The viceroy hesitated to send a boat out to meet the monarch. Since Pharaoh was in no danger on the river, it would make more sense to concentrate on drawing up guest lists of the welcoming banquets.
The commander of the Buhen fortress made his daily report to the viceroy.
“No trace of the suspect in the region, but there is one strange thing.”
“I don’t like things that are strange, Commander.”
“You don’t want to hear it?”
“If I must.”
“Some local fishermen left their village for two days,” the officer revealed. “When they got home, they started drinking and brawling. One of them died in a fight. In his hut I found a small silver ingot.”
“That would be worth a fortune!”
“Yes, but we can’t find out where it came from. I think someone paid these fishermen to hijack army supply shipments.”
If the viceroy pursued the investigation and it led nowhere, Pharaoh would accuse him of being inefficient. The best course was to do nothing, in hope that His Majesty would never hear of the matter.
The wind was so feeble that the sailors spent their time sleeping or playing dice. They were grateful for the easy pace, the pleasure-filled layovers, and the chance to meet the welcoming Nubian beauties.
The captain hated to see his crew so unoccupied. He was organizing a cleaning detail when a violent collision shook the boat, knocking several sailors onto the deck.
“We’ve hit a rock!”
In the prow of the royal flagship, Ramses heard the crash. All the other ships immediately trimmed their sails and halted in the middle of the relatively narrow stream.
Lotus was the first to realize what had happened.
The muddy river was dotted with gray boulders, but a closer look revealed round eyes and minuscule ears poking above the surface.
“Hippos,” she said to Ramses.
She nimbly climbed to the top of the mast and confirmed that the fleet was trapped. Back on the bridge, she made no attempt to hide the truth.
“I’ve never seen so many of them, Your Majesty! We can’t move backward or forward. It’s strange . . . you’d swear they’d been herded together here.”
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br /> Pharaoh recognized the danger. Adult hippopotami weighed more than three tons and were equipped with fearsome tusks that could crack a ship’s hull. This group seemed particularly irascible, though they floated with lordly ease and swam with surprising grace. Their huge jaws gaped menacingly at the slightest provocation.
“If the dominant males have decided to fight for the females,” Lotus explained, “nothing will stand in their way. They’ll sink our boats. We could all end up mauled or drowned.”
Dozens of ears wiggled, half-closed eyes blinked, nostrils bobbed above the surface, maws gaped, and sinister grunts scared off the egrets perching in nearby acacias. The males’ huge bodies were crisscrossed with scars from earlier combat.
The sight of the horrible yellow tusks paralyzed the sailors. They quickly picked out the hefty males heading groups of twenty increasingly agitated hippos. If the herd rushed the fleet, their jaws would crush the rudders, making it impossible to steer; then they would ram the hulls until the boats sank. Jumping ship was an option only for those willing to swim through a pack of raging monsters.
“We’ll spear them,” suggested Setau.
“Not with this many,” Ramses answered. “We’d only kill a few and make the rest of them even angrier.”
“We can’t just stand by and do nothing!”
“Is that what I did at Kadesh? My father Amon rules the winds; let us be still and listen for his voice.”
Ramses and Nefertari raised their hands in offering, palms turned heavenward.
At his master’s right, Fighter the lion stood firm, gazing into the distance.
The order was relayed from ship to ship until the entire fleet was silent.
Several of the hippos slowly lowered their jaws and gradually submerged their fragile hides, leaving only the tips of their nostrils and ears above water. Their eyelids appeared to droop.
For a few endless minutes, nothing moved.
Then Lotus felt a northerly breeze on her cheek—the breath of life. The royal flagship carefully advanced, and the rest of the fleet soon followed, passing the suddenly pacified hippos without incident.
Ramses, Volume IV Page 19