Fall of the House of Ramesses, Book 1: Merenptah

by Max Overton

  Merenptah smiled and nodded. "Excellent. Get started immediately. I want it complete in two years." He turned and strode off toward his chariot. Neferronpet clapped the architect on the shoulder and hurried after his monarch.

  * * *

  First Prophet of Amun, Hem-netjer Roma-Rui, scowled as the soldiers formed up around the king and escorted him away, followed by his faithful Tjaty Neferronpet. He beckoned to his fellow priests and led the way to the temple's own barge, the 'Glory of Amun', where they boarded it and the temple sailors bent their backs to the task of carrying the priests across to the Great Temple on the eastern bank. Here, Roma-Rui dismissed the other priests but took Third Prophet Amenhotep with him to his private chambers. Like his own, the Third Prophet's eyebrows had been shaved, giving the two men a look of perpetual astonishment.

  Amenhotep was apprehensive, not sure why he had been singled out by the Hem-netjer for a private audience. Roma-Rui saw his nervousness and made a point of putting him at his ease. He had his wife Tabest order wine and fine bread from the temple kitchens and serve Amenhotep herself. Then, dismissing the woman, Roma-Rui drew up a chair and sat close to the Third Prophet, leaning forward and regarding the man intently.

  "You look nervous," Roma-Rui commented. "Why?"

  Amenhotep cleared his throat. "Well, er, I...I don't know what I have done."

  "Done?" Roma-Rui laughed. "Do you think if you had done something I disapproved of I would invite you to my home and have my wife serve you like an honoured guest?"

  "I, uh, suppose not, Hem-netjer. Er, why then?"

  "Tell me, Amenhotep, where your loyalties lie."

  The Third Prophet licked his lips and stared at Roma-Rui. "My loyalties? Why, er, to Amun and the King."

  "Not to me?"

  "Of course to you, Hem-netjer, as First Prophet of the god."

  "You acknowledge I have authority over you?"

  "Of course."

  "And where does my authority come from?"

  "The god Amun."

  "Not the king?"

  Amenhotep raised his non-existent eyebrows at this thought. "Amun appoints you, Hem-netjer, not the king."

  "Can the king dismiss me from office?"

  The Third Prophet licked his lips again. "I...I suppose he could, but..." His voice trailed off.

  "But what? Complete your thought."

  "I was only going to say that although the king could dismiss you, he would be foolish to do so. In theory, the king rules all Kemet, and the two Tjatys, Neferronpet and Prehotep govern under him, but in reality Amun-Re rules all, and you are the voice of Amun."

  "Are you saying I am more powerful than the king?"

  A look of horror crossed Amenhotep's face and he opened his mouth to deny such a treasonous thought, and saw the look of concentration on the Hem-netjer's face. He shifted in his seat and said, "Yes...and no."

  "Explain yourself."

  Amenhotep frowned, obviously searching for words.

  Roma-Rui leaned back in his chair and took up a cup of wine. "Take your time, Khemet-nu Amun. Your words may be important."

  Amenhotep took the High Priest at his word. He considered carefully before speaking. "First, let me speak of the king. We accept that he is chosen by the gods, yet he always descends from the ruling family. Menmaatre Seti inherited the throne from his father Menpehtyre Ramesses, and Usermaatre Ramesses inherited from Menmaatre. Now we have Baenre Merenptah inheriting from Usermaatre, father to son. One could ask where the gods' choice in all this is. One only has to be born of the king to inherit the throne.

  "Second, I speak of the Hem-netjer tepy en Amun. Here we have the opposite situation to that of the royal family. In theory, the king appoints you, but the god is always consulted." Amenhotep allowed himself a quiet chuckle. "As the priests of Amun are the spokesmen of the god, it could be said that the priests decide the next Hem-netjer."

  "Can the king remove a Hem-netjer from office?"

  "I suppose he could...the king could order his soldiers to arrest a priest, but unless the priest had committed a sin against the god..."

  "Let us move from the general to the specific," Roma-Rui said. "As you may have noticed, Baenre has no great love for me. I have never hidden my desire to bring the court back to Waset, setting it once more under Amun's protection, but the king does not share my desire. He has moved his court to Men-nefer and follows Ptah. That is a mistake. Ptah, god of architects and artists is all very well for a time of peace, but with Usermaatre gone, Kemet will soon be at war again. That is why we need Amun to lead the nation.

  "Now, my question is this, Amenhotep, can the king remove me from office?"

  "You? Why would he...?"

  "I have just told you he views me as an enemy."

  "But to...who would he put in your place?"

  "Bakenkhons."

  Amenhotep gaped. "Baken..."

  "He is Second Prophet."

  Amenhotep shook his head, unable to say anything.

  "Why do you think you are here discussing this and not him? If Baenre asked him, he would not refuse. As Second Prophet, many would accept him. Perhaps even you."

  "N...never, Hem-netjer." Amenhotep essayed another chuckle but it came out more as a nervous squeak. "Even if he asked me to take over, I would refuse."

  "Very loyal," Roma-Rui said dryly. "However, he would never ask. The god would not accept you."

  "D...do you think the king will try to depose you?"

  "Not yet, but the time will come. The king is an old man. He may not last much longer."

  Amenhotep looked round nervously, for such talk could be construed as treason. Wishing a man dead was only a small step from realising it. "If Seti becomes king, it will be easy to manage a child," he whispered.

  "If Seti becomes king and is still a child, he will be managed by Neferronpet and Prehotep, neither of whom have any great love of Amun or myself. And if Seti comes to the throne as a man, then he will likely rule from Men-nefer."

  "So there is no possibility of success?"

  "Only if a man friendly to Amun and me comes to the throne after Baenre."

  "But there is no one...except...would he?"

  Roma-Rui smiled. "Who?"

  "Messuwy?"

  "Son of Baenre Merenptah. Eldest son, who thinks he should be heir simply because he is eldest. A proven administrator in Kush, and a man hungry for power."

  "He really is a possibility?" Amenhotep asked.

  "Possibility for what?" Roma-Rui asked. "We are just talking idly."

  Amenhotep's shaved eyebrows lifted again. "We are? But I thought..."

  "The temple apartments are one of the few places where a man can talk without the constant worry of being overheard by ever-present servants or slaves. Even so, I would be foolish to talk in such a manner unless I could be absolutely certain of the loyalty of my audience."

  "You know I am loyal," Amenhotep declared. "I am married to your daughter Sitamen."

  Roma-Rui nodded. "Yes, and there is one further thing that ties you to me. Gold."

  Amenhotep frowned. "Gold?"

  "A hundred deben of the temple gold has gone missing, Third Prophet. I regret that even being related to you is not enough to save you from the just anger of the king when he finds out."

  "I? I haven't taken any gold."

  "The evidence proves otherwise."

  "What evidence?"

  "A sworn statement by a junior priest that he saw you, in company with two temple guards, remove the gold from the treasury, take it to a dealer, and use the gold to purchase a small, but nicely-appointed rock tomb in the western desert."

  "What? This is nonsense. I don't have a tomb yet...though my wife is pestering...who is this priest? Let him accuse me to my face."

  "Regrettably, he died not long after dictating his sworn statement to a scribe in my presence. Likewise your two co-conspirators, the soldiers."

  "Show me this statement, for it is false. And besides, I do not own a tomb."
/>   "I have both the statement and the bill of sale safely in my possession, Amenhotep. You can be thankful that I have them, because as long as I am Hem-netjer tepy en Amun, they will remain hidden. Of course, if I should die, or be arrested for treason, they would be found and you would fall with me. You understand that, I trust?"

  Amenhotep nodded, his eyes wide and his face pale. "Why? Why would you do such a thing?"

  "To bind you to me," Roma-Rui replied. "I must be utterly assured of your loyalty. And in case you think that simple theft of temple gold is not enough of an incentive, your name will appear on certain documents showing extensive correspondence with a certain Lord Sethi that could be construed as treasonous."

  "I don't know a Lord Sethi, and I've never written letters to him."

  "Then perhaps you had better meet him." Roma-Rui arose and went to the door, calling a servant to him and giving him whispered instructions. He returned to his chair and poured himself another cup of wine, sipping it while he waited. Amenhotep, meanwhile, got up and paced nervously, casting apprehensive looks toward the doorway. A short time later, the servant returned with a young man in tow.

  "Ah, my Lord Sethi. Welcome." Roma-Rui waited until the servant had closed the door before arising and embracing the man. "This is Amenhotep, Khemet-nu amun. You have heard me speak of him. Amenhotep, this is Sethi, military adviser to King's Son of Kush, Messuwy son of Baenre Merenptah."

  Lord Sethi stared at the younger priest and then glanced at Roma-Rui. "Can he be trusted?" he asked bluntly.

  "Well?" Roma-Rui asked. "Can you?"

  "Apparently we have corresponded extensively, Lord Sethi," Amenhotep said. "If that does not constitute trust, then I do not know what does."

  "You are satisfied?" Sethi asked Roma-Rui.

  The Hem-netjer smiled. "Not only is he my son-in-law, but he is bound to me by bonds of gold. You may speak freely."

  Sethi nodded. "Very well. A certain man wishes to know what you can do for him."

  "A certain man?" Amenhotep asked. "You mean Mess..."

  "No names," Sethi snapped. "A certain man will do for the moment."

  "I can deliver Waset to him," Roma-Rui said. "And with Waset comes the whole southern Kingdom."

  "And what would you want in return?"

  "The supremacy of Amun, the court to be in Waset, an acknowledgement of Amun in the royal titulary, and removal of certain people."

  "You want a lot."

  "Not really. Amun will help a certain man attain the throne of Kemet, and as Amun's City would be central to his power, what is more logical than to govern from Waset. As for the name..." Roma-Rui shrugged. "...a name is power, as you well know, and Amun's power is supreme."

  "And the men you would be rid of?"

  "I will draw up a list."

  "A certain man may not agree to some of the names. It might depend on who aids him."

  "I would be prepared to negotiate. Or rather, Amenhotep here will. From now on, you deal with him, never with me. I must distance myself for the time being."

  "And today's meeting?"

  "Naturally, as military adviser to the King's Son of Kush, you came to pay your respects to me as Hem-netjer tepy en Amun when visiting Waset. Third Prophet Amenhotep was with us the whole time and can vouch for the propriety of the discussion. You will not see me again until I place the crown on a certain man."

  Chapter Fifteen

  Year 3 of Baenre Merenptah

  As attentive as any mother looking out for her child, Ament watched Prince Seti as he braced himself against the lightweight wicker structure of the hunting chariot and stared with every appearance of eagerness across the sand and rock of the desert. He shaded his eyes with one hand and clutched his short recurved bow in the other. Beside him, a charioteer waited patiently, reins grasped in his hands, controlling the two white stallions that champed and blew, straining to run. Ament's own chariot, behind and to the right of Seti, held a charioteer as well as himself, now Leader of Fifty and a member of the Prince's Bodyguard. His mind ran over the many things that could go wrong in a hunt, the several ways his charge could come to harm.

  At least we're not hunting lions or something else as dangerous like the wild bull or the pehe-mau in the river shallows, Ament thought. The royal huntsmen had disappointed the prince, but not his guardians, by failing to find anything more exciting than an ostrich within a day's travel from Men-nefer. Seti had leapt at the chance of getting out of the palace, and thrown together the hunt within a twelfth part of a day. Refusing a retinue of guards and other nobles, he had sent the huntsmen off and consented to the presence of a single accompanying chariot and guard. Now the prince and Ament waited while the huntsmen circled the ostrich and herded it back toward them.

  The afternoon sun still had heat despite the lengthening shadows, and Ament took out his goatskin water bottle and shook it, grimacing at its light weight. He unstoppered it and sipped at the tepid, slightly rancid-tasting water, nonetheless feeling refreshed. During the time they had waited here, from a little past midday, Ament had drunk from his water skin at least a hand of times, yet he had seen the prince drink only twice. The Fifty smiled to himself, offering up grudging admiration for the wiry youth he still sometimes thought of as a soft small boy. A little over two years had passed since their voyage south to Waset, and both Seti and Ament were very different people.

  Ament had been a simple fisherman turned soldier, a man with his foot on the first rung of responsibility, yet he had thrown any chance of further advancement away on a whim. He had chosen to guide a runaway Lord and Lady on the long journey from Men-nefer to Waset, knowing that his career was in ruins and likely his life forfeit. Instead, the king had rewarded him for keeping his son and adoptive daughter safe. If this can be called a reward, shepherding an increasingly unruly prince. Ament sighed. How much he has changed in the last two years. He thought back to the sulky boy Seti had been and compared him to the assured young prince he had become.

  Seti had been determined to prove himself worthy of the throne, and had thrown himself into the manly pursuits of hunting and war. He studied tactics and strategy under retired generals, practised with the bow, spear, and sword against common soldiers, gained mastery of light-weight war chariots, and went out hunting at every opportunity. Ament had to admit that he had become quite skilful at the latter, wedding his skill with the bow and chariot to knowledge of the habits of wild animals. He brought home wildfowl by the hundred, gazelles and wild goats by the score, and a handful of larger beasts, limited only by the fact that he was not allowed to roam too far from home. Seti thirsted after a lion, but that had so far eluded him, for which Ament thanked the gods. The boy was not ready for such formidable prey, no matter what he thought.

  The girl was another matter. Young woman, Ament corrected himself. She has matured in the last two years and is now rising on twenty summers. Ament smiled. Were it not for our vastly different stations, I'd offer for her. He thought about what it would be like to marry a princess.

  It'd never happen anyway. She's too valuable to the king, and no doubt the king plans to marry her off to some nobleman or even young Seti. He frowned, considering her plight. Locked away in the Women's Quarters of the palace and only coming out under guard. No wonder she looks unhappy. Ament shrugged. Nothing I can do about that. She'll just have to make the best of her lot in life.

  A distant horn sounded, snapping Ament's attention back to the hunt. Another falling wail from behind a low ridge to their left, and now he could hear the excited barking of the hunting dogs. Prince Seti heard it too, and looked over his shoulder at Ament, grinning. Both charioteers made their preparations, calming their steeds as the excitement of the men spilled over.

  "There!" Seti's charioteer pointed to the end of the ridge.

  A cock ostrich paced into view with two hens a few lengths behind. Seti said something and his chariot started forward, rocking as it bounced over the rough terrain.

  Ament nodded, and his o
wn chariot followed the royal one. He held on tightly, envious of his charioteer's skill at keeping his footing in the unstable vehicle. The chariots picked up speed, angling across the sand and rock to intercept the running birds. Seti braced himself and selected an arrow from the quiver in front of him, fitting it to his string. He yelled with excitement, screaming out instructions to his charioteer who, having taken part in many hunts did his best to ignore the Prince's unhelpful orders. The chariot drew closer to their prey and then turned slightly, paralleling the course of the fleeing birds about fifty paces distant.

  "Closer, Huy!" Seti screamed at his charioteer.

  Ament could not hear Huy's reply, but imagined it was along the lines of "Any closer and they'll turn away". Evidently, Seti insisted, for the chariot started moving toward the ostriches as the Prince drew back his bow. The string thrummed on the release, and in the same instant the cock swerved away, the arrow passing harmlessly in front of it. All three ostriches now put on a burst of speed, but the long chase that the hunters and their dogs had put them through started to have its effect. They slowed again and gradually the chariots gained on them, Seti's to the left and Ament's on the right but slightly further back.

  Seti drew his bow again, and this time the presence of another chariot to their right, dissuaded the cock bird from swerving away. The cock continued on in a straight line and the arrow pierced his thigh, immediately slowing his progress. The hens drew level and Seti cursed as he aimed another arrow, wanting to finish off the cock. Abruptly, the cock bird stopped, limping and plucking at the embedded arrow with its beak. The hens drew ahead, abandoning the cock and allowing Seti to place an arrow deep within his chest. The cock uttered a hoarse cry and fell over, his legs kicking futilely against the sand.

  The hen birds slowed and circled back, and Seti placed two arrows deep in one of them, and she sank to the sand with a tired hiss. Seti motioned the chariot closer, but the last ostrich turned and ran. They chased, and quickly drew alongside the exhausted bird. Seti aimed his arrow but then paused. He put his bow aside and drew his bronze sword, calling to Huy to move closer still. Huy nodded and eased the bouncing vehicle closer to the tiring hen bird. Seti grasped the railing firmly in his left hand and leaned out, only his sandaled foot wedged in the wickerwork preventing him from overbalancing. He swung his sword and it bit cleanly through the neck of the hen, her head falling to the sand in a spray of blood.