Usermarenakht leaned over and carefully anointed the mummy’s head with sacred oil. Then Meryatum lifted a helmet of solid gold inlaid with faience and lapis lazuli that glittered in the torchlight. I’d never seen anything like it. Its eyes were of quartz rimmed with copper and were extraordinarily lifelike. I was amazed at the helmet’s uncanny resemblance to the third Ramesses. It portrayed him wearing a blue– and gold–striped nemes headdress with the uraeus and vulture on his brow. Usermarenakht tilted the mummy upward from the coffin while Meryatum slipped the helmet over his father’s head. Then the two of them carefully arranged the mummy flush in the coffin. Ashakhet placed a spectacular pectoral on Pharaoh’s chest – water lilies with gold stems and petals of light and dark blue and green, attached to a gold barque decorated with both a crescent and full moon protecting a cartouche with Pharaoh’s name. Usermarenakht placed a papyrus–backed collar of flowers, leaves, berries, fruit and blue glass beads over the pectoral. I noted a scarab there too, the symbol of new life.
Meryatum and Ashakhet positioned themselves on either side of the sarcophagus and slowly emptied containers of fragrant liquid unguents over all but the mummy’s face and feet, drenching it.
Then the women of the royal family and I moved forward to say our last goodbyes. We tearfully draped Pharaoh’s mummy with floral garlands made of willow leaves or poppy flowers or olive leaves or blue lotus. Mine was a collection of flowers from the tower stairs that Pharaoh had watched me water every morning, his favorites. As I lay my wreath on the body of the pharaoh I’d loved and who’d treated me so well I whispered a prayer to the falcon god to guard him eternally, my eyes and cheeks unashamedly wet. Then, impulsively, I slipped the talisman over my head and touched it to his coffin. The same talisman that had given a final blessing to Horus Narmer and several of his royal successors. As I did I was gripped by an eerie feeling, as if all of those kings’ kas had gathered in this tomb to welcome the third Ramesses into their midst.
We women backed away, the two widows and Duatentopet sobbing and supporting each other. Usermarenakht arranged a white linen pall over the mummy and its helmet and anointed the pall with resin. Then porters lifted the decorated lid of the innermost gold coffin from the stack on the floor and secured it in place. The lid was shaped like Pharaoh’s body, his crossed hands holding a crook and flail, the face that of Ramesses. As the family recited prayers the three high priests poured more unguents over the lid. They covered it with a red linen pall and drenched it a final time.
Porters set the second gold lid, matching the first, in place. The priests covered it with a pall and anointed it. They did the same with a third.
Then a dozen porters lifted the heavy pink stone lid and staggered with it to the sarcophagus and dropped it with a thud and slid it into place, sealing the third Ramesses away for eternity.
The mourners retreated up the corridor to give lower–ranking priests enough room to complete the final arrangement of the burial chamber under the direction of the high priests. Several torchbearers took up positions to light the work.
“Stay with me, Neset,” Ramesses said. “They’re going to assemble four shrines around the sarcophagus to protect Father now.”
Priests selected the four smallest gold–covered wood panels leaning against the walls and positioned them abutting the four sides of the sarcophagus. They fit around it exactly.
“The first shrine is Per–nu, modeled after the predynastic temples of the lower valley.”
Priests fastened the edges of the panels together with gold pins, creating a long narrow rectangle. The front panel was pierced by two doors; the other three were solid. All were etched with images of gods and inscriptions from the Spells of Emerging in Daytime. Isis and Nepthys stretched their winged arms protectively on both doors and the back panel. Priests selected the smallest roof panel from the appropriate stack and lifted it with great difficulty, for it was quite heavy, setting it in place atop the four side panels and fastening it with pins. Ramesses stepped forward and shut the doors as Usermarenakht chanted incantations. There were copper rings on each door at top, middle and bottom; Meryatum passed long ebony bolts through the three sets. Ashakhet applied wet clay over the center of each bolt. Ramesses pressed his father’s signet ring into each lump of clay, creating three seals.
Priests placed small ritual objects around all four sides of the shrine’s base. Then they assembled a second rectangular shrine around the first, constructed of slightly larger panels. I scanned the inscriptions. They were from the Book of Amduat. Once assembled, the shrine’s doors were closed, the bolts shot, the clay applied and sealed, more ritual objects placed around its perimeter.
“This is Per–wer, modeled after the predynastic temples of the upper valley,” Ramesses explained.
A third shrine slowly took shape around the second. Also modeled after the predynastic temples of the upper valley, it was inscribed with passages from the Spells of Emerging in Daytime. Once it was in place and sealed, priests set up a frame of slender wood poles around and over it, then draped the frame with the brown linen pall. Sewn on the pall at regular intervals were gilded bronze flowers, giving the linen the illusion of being a night sky spangled with stars.
Priests began assembling the fourth and final shrine.
“Come with me,” Ramesses said. “Since you were kind enough to tell me how tombs are constructed and decorated the day we visited Ta Set Neferu, I thought you’d like to see how they’re furnished.”
We walked through three large rooms at the farthest reaches of the tomb. Their walls were etched with images of gods and texts from the Book of Gates and they were virtually filled with items from floor to ceiling, the objects ranging from spectacularly beautiful to utilitarian and practical. I stared wide–eyed; I’d never imagined so many riches gathered in one place. No wonder the Great Place was so heavily guarded; if every pharaoh had taken as much or more to the Afterlife the amount of wealth buried underground in the valley was immense.
Linen was draped over many of the grave goods. While most of them had been made especially for the tomb, I recognized some items Pharaoh had used in life. Others bore dockets with the names of officials who’d donated them in Pharaoh’s memory. I saw table objects, tools, measuring instruments, ankh signs, bowls of gold and stone, seals, ceremonial beards, ostraca inscribed with figures, wicks, candle remnants, ring–bottomed bowls, flat–bottomed bowls, flowers, vases, weapons, games, sandals, shrouds, jars full of ointments and perfumes, cups and bowls and animals of glass in nearly every color imaginable, clothing and rolls of linen, disassembled chariots, vessels of metal and clay. There were caskets and chests and ebony boxes full of necklaces, amulets, hairpins, bracelets, jar stoppers, finger stalls, heart–scarabs, jewels. Rolls of papyri, wigs, see–faces in boxes, baskets of food, dried meat. A docket was attached to nearly every container, detailing its contents.
One corner was filled with painted wooden models of farmers and craftsmen and soldiers and boats. I bent low to inspect an offering bearer. She wore a form–fitting garment held up by a single strap that passed over her left shoulder and attached to her skirt at her navel, the skirt in a blue–feather pattern. Two long colored chains dangled over her shoulders, bands decorated wrists and ankles, and her short black round wig was bound with a white headband.
There was much furniture, including several beds and many tables and stands and chairs. One, made of ebony, had an image of Bes flanked by two of Taweret on the backrest, lions’ paws for the legs, and an antelope beneath each arm. There was an amazing leather canopy with a sky–blue top section and rows of starry rosettes and panels decorated with lotus and papyrus and winged scarabs. There was a trumpet made of copper, its gently flaring bell, engraved to represent a stylized lotus blossom, narrowly banded with gold leaf on the end. There were nude female figurines made of faience to serve Pharaoh for eternity.
Numerous large statues of gods stood upon pedestals within tall wooden shrines, their names inscr
ibed in yellow paint, bodies covered with gesso and thin sheets of gold, eyes inlaid with obsidian and calcite and copper and glass. Each statue was draped with a fringed linen shawl that covered it from shoulder to foot, wore a linen headdress, and had a garland of fresh lotus flowers or lilies around its neck.
Alabaster jars were scattered about, filled with oils and fats and matured unguents from famous presses. Some were as much as eighty–five years old, according to their dockets, having been produced during the reign of Ramesses the Great. Some jars had been mended and showed signs of use. I paused beside a cluster of wine jars from Pharaoh’s and Amen’s domains in Ta–mehi. Not only did the dockets list the vintage, but the name of the vintner as well.
All three rooms were cluttered with shabati, “he who responds,” of faience and stone and pottery and bronze and wax and glass. The figures were designed to ensure Pharaoh an Afterlife free from toil. When the gods called on him to perform a task the figures would do it in his stead. I read the inscription on one: “O shabati, as to an assignment of Osiris Usermaatre–Meryamen for any work that must be done in the god’s land, in order to plant the field, in order to irrigate the land, to move the sand from the east to west, if one assigns Pharaoh work at any time daily say ‘Me, look at me.’” The shabati ranged from four to nine inches in height. Some were in decorated boxes.
“There are four hundred–one,” Ramesses said. “One for each day of the year, and thirty–six whip–carrying supervisors who oversee thirty–six shabati each.”
Exactly like in Grandfather’s tomb. I spotted a gardener and picked it up. It was inscribed on the soles of its feet: Made by the true servant who is beneficial to his Lord, the Pharaoh’s gardener, Meniufer, for his Lord, the Osiris, Lord of the valley, Usermaatre–Meryamen, justified. I’d stumbled on a gift to Pharaoh given him by Grandfather years ago, a reminder that pharaohs assembled their grave goods long before their deaths.
I spied a box in the shape of Osiris, filled with soil and planted with grain and newly watered. It’d sprout in the darkness to symbolize the rebirth of Pharaoh.
Ramesses pointed out a brick of unbaked mud against the west side of the tomb, a djed pillar of faience set in its center. “There are three more like it – the one on the east wall has a clay figure of Anubis, on the south a reed with a wick, and on the north a mummiform shabati–like figure. All are inscribed with chapter one hundred fifty–one of the Spells of Emerging in Daytime, describing the role they play protecting Pharaoh against the enemies of Osiris from whichever of the four cardinal directions they come.”
Ramesses and I returned to the burial chamber just as the priests finished setting in place the last panel of the final gold outer shrine. The shrine represented the baldachin under which Pharaoh renewed his power during the Heb–Sed. Its panels were inlaid with blue faience and alternating symbols of Osiris and Isis and inscribed with passages from the Spells of Emerging in Daytime and the Book of the Heavenly Cow. There was barely enough room for Ramesses and me to squeeze between the side of the shrine and the wall of the burial chamber. The shrine’s top was within an inch of the tomb’s ceiling. Ramesses closed the doors and after they were bolted marked the clay with the signet ring.
Usermarenakht placed the wooden canopic chest in front of the shrine. Meryatum filled the four cavities around the canopic jars with resin and drenched the tops of the jars for good measure. He closed the top of the chest. Thus were Pharaoh’s organs reunited with his body.
The priests placed scrolls containing texts and magic formulas to help Pharaoh make it through the dangerous journey to the Afterlife in special decorated boxes and set them next to the outer shrine. I removed my floral collar and linen head shawl and placed them in a large earthenware jar next to the entrance of the burial chamber atop those left behind by other mourners. Nothing that had been used in the funeral was allowed to leave the tomb.
I took one last look at the glittering shrines and funerary objects and turned and followed the priests and torchbearers and Pharaoh up the long corridor to the outside, the distant pinprick of sunlight through the tomb’s door becoming ever larger and brighter as we neared the opening. Usermarenakht came after us, walking backwards, bent over, carefully sweeping away our footprints and all evidence of our passage. After we crossed the wooden bridge over the well in the passageway, waiting workmen disassembled it, dropping the pieces into the depths with resounding crashes.
Once everyone was outside the tomb Usermarenakht pulled the doors shut. Meryatum and Ashakhet applied wet clay to the seam. One final time Ramesses pressed his father’s ring against the clay, sealing the tomb. Then more clay was applied and Usermarenakht impressed the necropolis seal – a jackal atop nine bows representing the valley’s traditional enemies.
We ascended the steps to the valley floor. Workmen had dug a hole beside the top step. Everything left over from and used in the funeral banquet, as well as all material left over from the embalming procedure, had already been placed in it. Ramesses dropped in his father’s ring. Meryatum filled the hole with dirt and carefully smoothed it. The funeral ceremony was over.
Everyone straggled back to the entrance of the Great Place by ones and twos, in silence, then down the long narrow wadi to the open plain beside the river. Iset and Tyti had their arms around each others’ waists and both were crying. Duatentopet’s arm was linked in Ramesses’; girls holding aloft sunscreens shaded them both. As I walked a few steps behind them I thought about the dead pharaoh’s ba, now on its journey to Osiris’ hall of judgment. It would be confronted along the way by the monsters and demons who inhabited the realm of darkness. The spells on the walls of Ramesses’ tomb would help him in his journey and as he faced two inescapable trials. In the first he’d have to list, for forty–two gods, all the sins he hadn’t committed in life. In the second his heart would be weighed against the feather of Maat. If his heart was heavier than the feather he’d be immediately annihilated by Ammut, but if it was lighter he’d earn an audience with Osiris and gain immortality. Then his ba and ka would combine to form his akh, his transfigured being. I prayed Pharaoh would survive his trial, for I’d loved him deeply.
***
Four days after Pharaoh’s burial, a procession headed by Vizier Neferronpet and me halted a few paces from Ta Set Maat’s entrance. It was late afternoon and the sun beat down relentlessly. I was using the fan Pentawere had given me to keep somewhat cool. We were accompanied by a handful of servants and two dozen porters lugging wooden chests. Carriers set down the vizier’s and my palanquins and we both stepped out of them. A young girl bearing a sunscreen immediately hurried to the vizier. Village officials were waiting nervously just outside the entrance to greet Neferronpet – Amennakht, the chief scribe; Khonsu, foreman of the right gang; Anhirkawi, foreman of the left; the two proctors, Reshpetref and Kamose. From their faces I could tell none of those men had expected to see me.
I’d dressed ostentatiously, assuming as much, in a sheer white dress, draped with the best of the jewelry Pentawere had gifted me. I wanted the people of Ta Set Maat, who’d shunned me and driven me from the village, to envy what I’d become. My dress was held up by only one strap, over my left shoulder, ensuring the white scar on my right would stand out against my dark skin. A reminder of why I was held in high regard by our current pharaoh. I carried my gardener’s staff as well, a reminder that I was an official who reported directly to Pharaoh. Something no one in the village could claim.
Anhirkawi, who’d courted me relentlessly before my marriage and then accused me of being in league with Mesedptah the day he’d ruined my rooftop garden, refused to meet my eyes with his. Amennakht regarded me as guiltily as he had the day Pentawere and I had visited for the festival; he still hadn’t thanked me for saving his son Harshire the day Pentawere and I resolved the workers’ strike.
“Greetings, Vizier,” Amennakht intoned, bowing low.
Every village official followed his lead.
“My Lady and I have co
me to see about the tomb of Ramesses, fourth of his name,” Neferronpet intoned.
Amennakht eyed me uncertainly. “Of course, Vizier. We’ll speak in my home. Please follow me.”
Amennakht led Neferronpet into Ta Set Maat. I walked a step behind, followed by the village officials and the porters with their chests. Khaemwase, the village gatekeeper, recorded our names on a sheet of papyrus as we passed. We headed down the single street towards the rear of the village, where Amennakht’s home was located. It was hot in the enclosed space; a young girl with a fan positioned herself behind the vizier, cooling him. The street had been swept clean and was free of the usual assortment of cats and small animals and children. The entryway of every house on both sides of the street was crowded with people, all curious, all bowing as the vizier passed. No vizier had visited the village in generations and I could sense the excitement.
I nodded pleasantly at former acquaintances and distant relatives. A few responded; most had no idea what to make of me. I’d left Ta Set Maat in disgrace after Mesedptah was executed. Then I’d resolved the craftsmen’s strike and come to the village with Pentawere, Pharaoh’s son, very clearly as his woman. Then I’d saved the current pharaoh’s life, and even visited his father’s tomb in the Great Place in company with the royal family, an occasion witnessed by many of the village’s craftsmen. And now I was here with the vizier. Everyone was having a hard time reconciling what I’d become with what I’d once been. And whispering about my jewels.
I stepped out of the procession and briefly hugged Naunakht as I passed her house. She was the one person who’d stood by me in my darkest hour. Penanuke, in the next house – once mine – slunk back from the door as I passed. As did Pagerger and Meresamun and my half–brothers and sisters as I passed theirs. My father remained in his entryway, looking at me with a mixture of pride and guilt. I smiled at him magnanimously. I spotted both Menat and Taiunes, widows of tomb robbers convicted along with Mesedptah, both great with child. I couldn’t help wonder which craftsmen they’d snared in their webs, and if those men were currently robbing tombs to keep them in style.
The Gardener and the Assassin Page 61