Fall of the House of Ramesses, Book 1: Merenptah

by Max Overton

  There were several times in the first few days of our journey when I considered slipping away at night. I could have found work as a farm labourer, but I could not leave them defenceless on the river. I stuck by them and we grew used to each other. If the difference in our social positions was too great to cross, at least we achieved something like the friendly camaraderie I had found as a soldier. Seti made a bow and Tausret made a spear, carving bones to make tips, and soon we were eating well on wildfowl from the reed beds and fish that we could net or spear. Excess fish or fowl were traded in village markets for bread and vegetables, a cooking pot, weak beer, and some new clothes.

  And so, after half a month, we came close to Waset, and Seti drew away from me again, becoming silent and sullen. He insisted once more on being called 'Lord Seti' and even Lady Tausret refrained from her usual banter.

  "We have to decide how to approach the king," she told me.

  "I thought that was just a story," I admitted. "Someone less exalted than the king is more likely to listen to you though. A judge, maybe. Just how important a man was your grandfather?"

  Tausret smiled. "His name was Usermaatre."

  I frowned. "The same name as the dead king? That is unusual, to say the least."

  "Usermaatre Setepenre Ramesses was his name. King Baenre Merenptah is his son and Seti here is his grandson."

  I stared open-mouthed. "Th...this boy...this Lord Seti...is the new king's son?" The magnitude of the revelation terrified me and I sought to lessen it somewhat. "By a palace concubine?" I asked, with hope in my voice.

  "By a woman who if she had lived, would have become queen."

  "And...and you, Lady?"

  "Baenre Merenptah is my adoptive father. Seti is my brother."

  I fell to the ground and prostrated myself, shivering with fear. This was the woman I had secretly lusted after, the king's daughter. If my thoughts became known, I was a dead man. Even keeping that secret, I was likely to end up dead. I had helped the king's children evade the proper authorities and put them in danger. I would have to run, somehow make my way into the wilds of Kush, beyond the reach of the King of the Two Lands.

  The Lady Tausret might have read my thoughts...no, not those ones, thank all the gods, the ones about fleeing for my life.

  "Get up, Ament. You have nothing to fear. We are still the same people we were an hour ago."

  "Yes, Lady," I groaned, "but now I know who you really are. Forgive me my presumption."

  "Nothing will happen to you. I will explain matters to the king."

  "I think it would be safer if I hid before you land in Waset. Just in case the king does not see things your way."

  Tausret smiled, and I knew that though I might flee, or even die, she held me in regard. I knew I would dare anything for this woman.

  "As you will, Ament."

  I guided the fishing boat in toward the shore within sight of the Waset docks, and instructed Seti and Tausret on what was needed to bring the boat to its journey's end.

  "You have seen me sail this boat often enough. It is not hard."

  Lord Seti nodded but said nothing. Lady Tausret touched my hand. "Thank you, Ament. May the gods protect you."

  I stepped ashore and watched them sail toward the docks of Amun's City. I felt relief for I had delivered my charges safe to their destination. Now all that remained was to ensure my own survival. I started toward Waset on foot. I had to have work if I was to eat and the bustling anonymity of the city would protect me, I hoped.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Year 1 of Baenre Merenptah

  King Baenre Merenptah knew what was required, despite his private feelings. Upon his return from Ta-sekhet-ma'at, where he had inspected the last minute additions to his father's tomb, he had sent word to Messuwy, King's Son of Kush, that he would receive him in the Great Audience Hall as befitted his station.

  Messuwy arrived well before the appointed time, excitement and anticipation making his thoughts race. There were many ways the king could have received him, alone in a private audience chamber, with a few select officials in a small throne room, or publicly, in the Great Audience Hall. The fact that it was to be public must mean honours were to be bestowed.

  He means to make me his heir, before everyone, he thought.

  The King's Herald, Usef, had met him at the entrance to the outer chamber in Nebmaatre's great palace and conducted through the waiting courtiers in complete silence. Messuwy had never been in this audience chamber before and for a breath or two, thought he was in a garden. The floor was a mosaic, tiled to represent a huge pool that stretched the length of the hall, bordered with representations of plants and animals. The walls, too, were covered in pictures and he glimpsed scenes of great beauty between the two lines of silent courtiers awaiting their turn in the king's presence.

  He walked through the centre, a pace behind the herald, and as he passed each noble or official the man bowed, recognising the superior status of the King's Son. They reached the end of the hall, where two doorkeepers stood, armed and ready to defend the king. They had complete control over who entered, so Usef bowed, followed by Messuwy. The doorkeepers stared, recognising the men before them but accenting the holiness of the king's presence by making them wait.

  The doorkeepers stood aside at last and Messuwy passed into the Vestibule, its many huge decorated columns making it look as crowded as the outer chamber. Usef halted, so Messuwy did too, remaining in complete silence as they awaited the royal summons.

  So this is what it means to be king, Messuwy thought. To command complete obedience. This will be mine one day. One day soon; my father is an old man.

  While he waited, Messuwy looked around the Vestibule. Beneath his feet, the chamber was tiled to represent a pool of water, blue with wavy lines, and fish swimming in it. Ducks and lily pads dotted the floor, and if he half-closed his eyes he could imagine he stood in a pool with columns bursting out of the water like huge trees. The rows of carved and painted columns were decorated with plants from all over Kemet, sedge and reed, palms and acacia, willow, tamarisk and lotus. There were others that he did not recognise and wondered if they were found in foreign lands. The room, though enclosed and covered, admitted shafts of sunlight through openings high on the walls, and the shafts lit the columns and their pictures as if he stood within a forest.

  Beasts threaded their way through the painted foliage, birds in brightly coloured profusion, lions and leopards, apes and jackals, cobras and butterflies. He raised his eyes, following the length of the columns to a ceiling painted pale blue to imitate the sky. Where the ceiling met the walls were a double row of vultures, and beneath them, painted on the walls glimpsed between the columns, were huge paintings of the gods. Amun figured prominently, this being Amun's City, and Messuwy found himself nodding in appreciation.

  Amun is a god I could follow. Re is universal and necessary, but Set is altogether too bloody-minded, a warrior's god, and Ptah is a god of craftsmen. Amun though...ancient and powerful. If I become king...when I become king, I will seriously consider moving the court back to Waset and seeking Amun's favour.

  The call came, bidding Messuwy approach his king. Usef started forward and Messuwy followed, through the great double doorway into the throne room. A double row of columns divided the tiled room lengthwise, each soaring edifice of stone a counterpart of the ones in the vestibule. The difference here was the subject matter of the mosaics. The path from the door to the raised throne was covered with images of bound prisoners and stylised glyphs representing the Nine Bows, all of Kemet's foreign enemies. As they walked the length of the room, they symbolically trampled the king's enemies underfoot.

  It seemed at first as if the throne room was empty except for the figure waiting on the throne, but as they approached, Messuwy saw senior officials lining the room, and the Tjaty of the South, Neferronpet, standing beside the throne but necessarily on a lower step. The throne was set on a platform, with two sets of steps rising to it, one on either si
de of an open space prepared for the petitioner.

  The throne itself was empty, the king not deigning to appear until everyone was in position. On this occasion, when nothing sacred was to be discussed or proclaimed, the throne was an elaborately carved chair of ebony wood, gilded profusely so it gleamed in the flickering light of torches. Carved lions flanked the throne, supporting it, and their raised tails provided a back rest for the king. A footstool, carved in the form of a crouching and bound enemy of Kemet, lay in front, while a formal carved canopy protected the throne and king. Royal cobras reared on the canopy, each surmounted by golden discs of the sun.

  Messuwy almost gasped at the sight of this splendour, it having been many years since he had attended a formal royal audience. He held audiences himself at Napata as King's Son of Kush, but these viceregal affairs were simple compared to this display in Nebmaatre's formal throne room in Waset. He stared, taking in every detail, thirsting for the day when all these honours would be accorded to him, and almost missed the moment when his father, King Baenre Merenptah entered.

  The king entered the throne room by a door from his personal chambers, wearing full regalia and strode toward the throne. The senior courtiers present immediately dropped to their knees and bent forward to kiss the floor before extending their arms toward the approaching king in mute supplication. Messuwy was a moment late, and if his head had not been bent, he might have seen the flicker of anger that crossed his father's face.

  Merenptah seated himself and looked out over the rows of bowed heads. Neferronpet stood to one side, staff in hand, and head bowed but watching his monarch closely. When the king nodded, he thumped the end of his staff on the tiled floor and the courtiers rose to their feet.

  "Life! Health! Prosperity! Divine Father, Lord of the Two Lands, Son of Re, High Priest of Every Temple, Mighty Bull, Lord of Appearances, Great One, look down with favour upon us and protect us."

  Merenptah listened impassively and nodded again. Neferronpet rapped on the floor again.

  "Ipuher, Overseer of Granaries in Ta-senet, you are charged with improper care of the city's grain stores and the loss of a thousand deben weight of fine wheat," Tjaty Neferronpet said. "Do you have anything to say in mitigation of your sentence?"

  Ipuher shuffled out of the line of courtiers, his face pale. He knelt and held out his arms. "Have mercy, Son of Re. Rodents..." his voice trailed off and he started weeping. "I have a wife and three daughters, Majesty. I beg you not to leave them fatherless."

  Neferronpet looked toward Merenptah, who nodded.

  "Ipuher, the king in his mercy judges that you shall pay the treasury an equal weight of the fine wheat that you stole, and also pay a fine of fifty deben in gold."

  A low moan escaped Ipuher's lips. "I cannot pay. I will be bankrupt."

  "Then bankrupt you shall be," the Tjaty said. "Further, you will be beaten in the marketplace of Ta-senet, one hundred blows, that all might see the just punishment for your transgressions and take warning that the king, Life! Prosperity! Health!, is ever mindful of the good of his subjects."

  Guards led the weeping Overseer away, and Neferronpet called for the next case.

  "Lords Nakhtmin and Menre, stand forth."

  Two men strode from among the courtiers and bowed low to the king.

  "Lord Nakhtmin, you are charged that one of the servants on your estate took a cow from Lord Menre's estate that is alongside yours, did slaughter the beast, and serve it to you and your household. Further, that when Lord Menre remonstrated with you, you did order one of your men to strike Lord Menre, which he did, bruising his right eye. Do you have anything to say, Lord Nakhtmin, before the king, Life! Prosperity! Health!, passes sentence?"

  "Son of Re, may you live forever. I did not order my servant to take a cow from my neighbour's land, only to slaughter one from my own herd. If he took one from Lord Menre, it is his error, not mine. Further, the man who struck Lord Menre did so because he was incensed at the Lord Menre's unjust accusation. He acted to protect me, as was his duty, nothing more."

  "And you, Lord Menre? Have you anything to add?"

  "I have sworn before the gods that my account is true," Menre said. "I stand by it."

  "Then hear the judgment of the king," Neferronpet said. "The servant who slaughtered Lord Menre's cow shall be beaten with two hundred blows and Lord Nakhtmin shall recompense Lord Menre by turning over to him ten cows to be selected by Lord Menre's Overseer of Herds. The servant who raised his hand to Lord Menre and injured him is sentenced to death by impalement, and Lord Nakhtmin, for inciting the man to violence against his neighbour will have his own right eye put out."

  Nakhtmin blanched. "Have mercy, Divine Father."

  Merenptah considered the two men. "Lord Menre, you are the injured party. Will you accept anything less?"

  Nakhtmin turned to his fellow lord, an abject expression on his face. "Please," he whispered.

  Menre thought for a moment. "My wound, while grievous, is healing, Divine Father. I would accept recompense."

  "Cattle or land?" Merenptah demanded. "Or gold?"

  "Lord Nakhtmin has a very nice vineyard near Per-Bast. The wine from its presses is rich and sweet."

  "Let it be so recorded. The vineyard passes from the possession of Lord Nakhtmin into that of Lord Menre."

  Neferronpet murmured to the Court Scribe, who dutifully recorded the judgment, and then called on Messuwy.

  "Lord Messuwy, King's Son of Kush, and son of Baenre Merenptah, draw near and hear the words of your king."

  Messuwy moved out from among the other courtiers and stood alone and silent in the open area in front of the throne. The raised dais forced him to look up at his father like any common petitioner, but he quelled the feeling of resentment that swept through him.

  That will change.

  Merenptah shifted on his throne and nodded in the direction of his son. "King's Son of Kush, you stand before your king to give an accounting of your governorship of our province of Kush."

  Messuwy opened his mouth and shut it again, suddenly worried by the hostility in his father's voice. "Son of Re, I submitted my report..."

  "I read it. You tell me the province is at peace and prosperous, but if that is the case, why has the gold from the King's Mines dried up? Over the last few years the gold coming into the Treasury has dropped significantly."

  "Majesty, I..."

  "You tell me that the activity of bandits has increased in Kush, yet you are doing nothing to counter them. This is hardly what I would call at province at peace," Merenptah went on, his voice hardening. "Are you unconcerned that these men are stealing from your king, even from the very gods of Kemet?"

  "Majesty, you are wrong if..." A sharp intake of breath from the courtiers alerted him to his error, but too late. "I..."

  "I am wrong?" The king half rose from his throne. "How dare you?"

  Messuwy went pale and dropped to his knees, his trembling hands outstretched. "Forgive my indiscretion, Divine Father. I did not mean...I can explain..."

  "Then stand and do so before I make an example of you."

  Messuwy rose to his feet and straightened his kilt, stalling to give himself time to control his terror. "Majesty, I only meant to say that you have been misled by your advisers, if they tell you..."

  "My advisers are at fault? King's Son of Kush, you are the one telling me these bandits are robbing me."

  "Yes, Majesty, that is in my report, but if your advisers tell you that I am not concerned by these depredations, then that is a lie."

  "Go on."

  "Majesty, I am aware of the depredations laid at the door of these bandits, but they are not ordinary thieves. My spies tell me they are organised under the leadership of a man they call the...the Falcon, a man who strikes fast and hard before disappearing back into the rocky wilderness. I have sent soldiers after him, but he laughs at their efforts. I have doubled the guards on mule-trains bringing gold from the mines, but he avoids well-guarded convoys and strikes
at others. I do not have the resources to stamp out this vermin, not if I am to keep peace in the rest of Kush at the same time."

  "Yet you have not thought to ask for more troops," Merenptah observed.

  "I considered it, Divine Father, but my predecessor Setau, and his military adviser, Mernudjem, both advised me to solve the problem without recourse to additional troops."

  "You have written instruction to this end?"

  "No, Great One. They offered verbal advice only."

  "And now they are conveniently dead, no longer available for questioning."

  "Son of Re, what could I do? Usermaatre had appointed me Deputy King's Son of Kush. How could I question the orders of Setau or ask that his advice be put in writing? As for Mernudjem, his military expertise was greater than mine, so of course I looked to him for advice."

  "And since Setau died and you became King's Son of Kush?"

  "Majesty, I continued the same course of action, but I, and my military adviser Sethi, both now think we need more troops."

  Merenptah concealed his distrust and dislike of his eldest son. "You shall have them. Tell Neferronpet what you need and he will arrange it. I look to a speedy resolution of these depredations in Kush. I wish to see the head of this Falcon within six months." He looked at his Tjaty. "Is there other business?"

  "No, Divine Father." Neferronpet struck his staff on the tiled floor to signal the end of the audience. As Merenptah rose to his feet, the Tjaty called out, "Life! Prosperity! Health!"