Masons steadily chipped away at the two protruding blocks on Khufu’s pyramid whilst we walked over to the paved area in front of Khafre’s pyramid where labourers had prised up enough pavers to reveal a stairway filled with rock chips. Leaving them to dig out the rubble, we skirted King Menkaure’s pyramid. The granite blocks facing the lower courses and the upper Tura limestone facing appeared undisturbed and it was decided his pyramid had not been violated.
The surrounding temples and causeways were in good condition and would require minimal restoration. Sand had drifted into the buildings and banked up around the noble’s tombs. To the east and west of Khufu’s pyramid lay symmetric rows of semi buried tombs and behind Khafre’s tomb there was a single line of identical tombs faced in limestone. We walked along the rows, reading the chiselled inscriptions. Most were family tombs of men who had served the pharaohs.
At first glance, none appeared to have been disturbed as their cladding was intact. The area around them was paved in limestone slabs precisely fitted into a mortar foundation. Once sand was swept off the paving, it became obvious sections had been crudely prised up and re-laid without care.
“Am I to assume that disturbed paving indicates robbery?” asked Ramesses.
“I believe that a safe assumption but until we lift more paving I cannot be certain. These tombs are all of a similar construction. A large pit was carved out of the rock with an entrance way and chambers created by laying brick walls within the pit. The ceilings are timber plank overlaid with clay and rubble, then that layer was covered in brickwork and faced with limestone. There are several variations of the basic design but the concept is well known and still widely used in the burials of our nobility. Although more substantial, Queen Isetnofret’s tomb is of a similar style and, unfortunately, just as vulnerable as the ones we now inspect.”
“If these tombs have been plundered, I will immediately commission a more secure tomb for the queen in Saqqara. Whilst I will have Nefertari beside me at Thebes, I cannot forsake Isetnofret as she was a loyal, devoted wife and mother and her remains deserve to remain inviolate.”
“It would be my honour, Ramesses. Ipi treasured her friendship with Isetnofret and it would not be difficult to build her a more secure tomb. In this style of tomb, the entrance is filled with stone and the doorway blocked with a portcullis of granite or limestone. The builders did their best but the design was fatally flawed.”
“How do you mean?” asked Khaemwaset.
“Well, consider this.” I picked up a large piece of limestone and threw it against the side of tomb where it shattered into pieces. “limestone is an excellent building material. Its softness makes it easy to shape, engrave and excavate but its principal virtue is its downfall. Determined robbers can cut through this soft stone and gain access to the interior very quickly. Using a granite portcullis was a waste of time as thieves would simply quarry around it and one man can gouge a hole big enough to permit entry in a few days. Depending on what they wished to steal, they need nothing larger than a manhole. If the plunder was bigger, all they have to do is chip more of the stone away from around the portcullis and let it fall backwards into the corridor.”
“What you are saying is there is nothing we can do to permanently protect these tombs?”
“Nothing. Look around you. We are a great distance from the nearest habitation and priests tending the dead can be bribed to look the other way or even share in the division of spoils. We can open all the tombs breached, make good any internal damage and re-seal them. If the remains of their occupants have been disturbed, priests can effect whatever is necessary to restore the dignity of the dead.”
“Otherwise, you can rest assured whatever we do by way of repairs can be undone sometime in the future. I am afraid we will uncover the same situation in every burial ground in the country. You know how I seek to armour your tomb but few have a king’s resources at their command. I doubt I am the first architect to concern himself with trying to shield his patron’s body and possessions. We may find, when we venture into the pyramids, their architects employed every method they knew of to protect their masters.”
“This nefarious business is a terrible affront to the gods and an act of unimaginable evil. Let me think on this awhile.” He walked along the rows of tombs, making a count as he proceeded. We waited until he returned.
“Open every tomb adjacent to the pyramids that evidences disturbance. Khaemwaset, send to Memphis and Heliopolis for priests and those who prepare the dead to effect the restoration of despoiled bodies and the re-consecration of tombs breached. Sennefer, enlarge the fort outside Memphis and build small garrisons at the extreme ends of the necropolis. I will assign additional soldiers to guard this sacred ground. What happens after my death is a matter for my successors to consider but I ask you, Khaemwaset, as my heir, to maintain vigilance over the necropolis. For now it is my divine obligation to assist Anubis and Sokar in protecting the dead.”
“What of the other cemeteries in the Kingdom?”
“Let us finish this business here, then move through the Memphis necropolis systematically. I must give considerable thought to the problem of not only the other cemeteries in the land but to the fundamental problem of tomb robberies. At the moment, I am not sure if we can do anything other than to ensure priests attempt to frighten as many of my subjects with the consequences of sacrilege. To educate my people widely is not possible and probably undesirable. If I make an issue of the problem, I may cause more scum to consider the rewards of tomb robbery.”
Within the day, masons forged entrances into both pyramids and then stood down, forbidden to venture further. I pointed out to Ramesses how short a time and how few men were needed to break into a tomb as, effectively, that is what our workmen had done. It was no easy matter to ascend to the opening high on the side of the great pyramid whilst preserving our dignity. Having no way of knowing the plan of the pyramid’s internal arrangements, I had bundles of cedar oil torches sent up to the entrance so we could explore at our leisure. Before we made our way into the corridor, the prince offered up a brief prayer and we began the descent through a particularly narrow passage that took us to a junction which offered a choice of a lower or upper pathway. Looking up, I noted access to the upper passageway was blocked by a large, seemingly intact slab of sandstone so we continued our descent. Just after the point where the corridor cut into the pyramid’s rock foundation, it took us to a gloomy chamber.
“What is this? There is nothing here except an empty, crudely fashioned room. The floor is natural rock and bears little imprint of mason’s chisels. Surely this cannot be the burial chamber of the king?” exclaimed Ramesses.
“A moment.” I made a quick foray into a short tunnel leading off the unfinished room but found nothing other than a blank wall at its end. Returning I said “This is not the burial chamber, although it may have been considered so when the pyramid was conceived. Remember, at the time and still today, we excavate down into rock. Back a short distance, I noticed an opening in the roof of the descending corridor and further up from that point, there is a large slab set into the passage ceiling. I have an idea but it will involve us climbing up into the structure. By my calculations, we are now almost directly under the apex of the pyramid. Do either of you suffer anxiety from being in small, dark places?”
“This is not my idea of an ideal place to visit and I find myself somewhat uncomfortable. Is this structure safe?” asked Khaemwaset, who was perspiring freely.
“Perfectly safe. You see how the blocks are locked into each other? Nothing will move inside this building but I agree with you about the discomfort. We can retrace our steps to the surface if you wish”.
“No. As long as we have torches, I am reasonably calm but I would not like to be here without light. Let us continue whilst I still feel courageous.”
We went back to the aperture in the corridor’s roof and climbed upwards through a winding, roughly cut tunnel. We could use only one flaming torch, held by Ramesses, as we ascended and the task was by no means pleasant. Finally the king poked his head up into a dark, open area. We followed and re-lit our torches, which illuminated walls of polished stone.
“What is this? I can just make out a roof above our heads and walls shaped in a step like fashion. What is its purpose?” questioned Ramesses.
“This corridor was fashioned by a process we architects call corbelling. The stones are arranged in a series of inward inclined layers designed to dissipate the great weight imposed by the upper mass of the pyramid. The floor slopes upwards. Let us see where it leads and we can determine its purpose. Notice in the lower blocks, niches cut for beams. The king’s sarcophagus was pulled up this passageway by ropes slung around timber beams. This great vaulted corridor should take us to the burial chamber.”
“I hope you remember where we are and how we reached this point, O Great Architect, as I am completely lost.” Ramesses had a grim look on his face. Even though the air was cool, he also perspiring freely.
“If you look behind you, will see a narrow descending passageway. I will explore the lower section in a moment. The crudely formed tunnel we climbed up ends at the beginning of this noble corridor. We will not miss it when we finish our ascent and wish to return. You are in good hands, Master. Your final resting place is in Thebes and not in this pile of stone.”
Taking the lead, I climbed higher with my respect for Khufu’s architect increasing by the minute. What a builder he must have been! The design was brilliantly conceived and executed in this vast limestone corridor. To have laid so many courses of stones so exactly that they met just where he wanted them would have taken considerable skill. How fascinating it would be if we could meet in the Second Life and discuss his work. However, I had little time to inspect the intricacies of the stonework as this was not the reason we were inside the monument. The corbelled corridor ended at a level- floored antechamber which preceded the burial chamber, a substantial room completely clad in polished dark red granite. Standing against the western wall lay a broken granite sarcophagus and there was no evidence of a lid or anything within the sarcophagus. We swept our torches along its sides looking for some indication of its occupant but no mark graced its polished surface nor did a survey of the walls reveal any inscriptions.
“Surely there must be another chamber as this cannot be the resting place of Pharaoh Khufu? All that effort just to finish up in this simple bare room.” whispered Ramesses. “You seem to be correct about the pyramid having been broken into. Look, lying in the bottom of the sarcophagus and on the floor there are pieces of a wooden coffin but I see nothing else.”
At that moment, I was thinking more about architecture rather than the whims of a long gone ruler and the broken sarcophagus was all the proof I needed to know the crypt had been robbed. “If you are both willing to wait here for a few moments, I wish to investigate something. Have no fear, I will return and you have many torches. It is doubtful you will find anything on the walls but look closely for any sign of a hidden chamber. I will return shortly.”
Khaemwaset was looking very pale so I hastened down the great corridor until my passage was barred by a large squared granite block at a point I thought corresponded to the place I had noticed a limestone slab at the juncture of the two corridors. Retracing my steps, and just before I reached the beginning of the great corridor, I chanced upon a wooden bridge which led into a long passageway ending in another chamber with a pointed stone roof. This room was very roughly finished, the floor uneven and niches had been started in the walls. Making a quick mental note, I thought it best to return to the burial chamber as being inside this mass of stone was beginning to tell on my nerves and it would not be seemly to have the king and his heir panicking.
“Master,” I said, re-entering the crypt “If you have nothing more to see, we should leave as the air becomes close. There is another smaller chamber lower down but it is ill-formed and devoid of ornamentation or contents. Unhappily, we have to retrace our steps down through the tunnel to the lower level before we can escape to the world of sunlight.”
On the descent, I pointed out the entrance to the second chamber and other features but by this time we were all eager to leave the confines of the tomb and breathe fresh air. It would be unfair to say that we ran up the descending corridor but our leaving the tomb was much faster than our entry. After we regained solid earth, returned to the comforts of the pavilion, taken refreshments and removed the grime from our bodies, Ramesses asked for my opinions.
“The thieves entered at the same place we began our tour. The shaft leading up to the grand corridor had been jammed by granite blocks that slid down its length after the king was entombed. The workmen who released the blocks left the pyramid by the same rough cut tunnel we used to attain the crypt and, although I suspect the king did not know about this means of escape, the builder certainly did. The king was entombed, the blocks released which sealed the main entrance to the crypt, then the workmen escaped into the lower descending corridor and came out on the side of the structure and the entrance was sealed with facing blocks. The second chamber I quickly visited may have been planned as the crypt for his queen but it is unfinished. I believe we will find the queen was interred in one of the three smaller pyramids.”
I took a sip of juice. “The sarcophagus is slightly wider than the great corridor which means it was put in place before it was completed, a fact allowing me to better understand how these massive structures were constructed. The first chamber we visited, carved down into the rock, was probably meant to be the original burial chamber but the plans changed as the pyramid developed in the mind of the architect who was, without question, a clever fellow.”
“Greater than you?” asked the king
I smiled. “At least as remarkable. However, he failed his king. The only safeguard designed to protect the king’s body were two limestone blocks plugging the entrance in the face of the pyramid and someone obviously remembered where those blocks were placed. The building’s vast bulk, the beautiful internal design and the sliding granite blocks offered, in the end, absolutely no protection at all. It would have been an easy matter for the master builder to increase the difficulty of re-entering the tomb. I begin to wonder if Khufu’s architect wearied of the king’s demands and possibly the onerous burdens he placed on his subjects and intentionally left the tomb vulnerable to robbers. It would have been a simple matter to completely seal the lower corridor with sliding blocks before the facing blocks were placed.”
“You noted the condition of the tunnel between the upper and lower corridors? First, it was literally hacked through the stone courses and was certainly not part of the building plan. The architect would have not only detected it but noticed the men who freed the granite sealing blocks climbing out of the entrance. It was not chiselled out after the entombment as there are no limestone chips in the lower passageway. It was quarried out as the construction proceeded.”
“Sennefer, that is a shocking accusation to make” exclaimed Khaemwaset.
“No, my son, it is not. I have ventured the opinion before that the three kings who built so lavishly were vain and stupid men. They must have squandered the kingdom’s wealth to build in this manner. Almost unimaginable volumes of stone, vast flotillas of vessels and thousands labouring away to achieve what? How many men would have been killed or broken during this project? How much suffering did the kings inflict upon their subjects? Djoser and his architect, Imhotep, inadvertently started a process that did not run its course before those who followed had ordained the cutting and placement of millions of tonnes of stone and sacrificed the lives of countless numbers of men to build monuments in veneration of only themselves. I can readily imagine a humane and sensitive man, with the architectural brilliance Sennefer so appreciates, turning against the injustice of his king. Much human blood would have been spilt on these stones before that period of madness only stopped in the chaos at the end of the pyramid building era.”
“You will note just how easily our masons broke into the side of the pyramid and how little time was taken climbing up to the burial chamber. A small group of men could easily break open the sarcophagus, steal anything of value and decamp into the night. Unless I have missed something, I did not find any rooms other than the one I pointed to on the way out, so it is possible the king was buried with few possessions but we will never know. Another thing. I seriously doubt the robbers re-sealed the tomb. Why should they have bothered? I suspect a later ruler detected the robbery and ordered two new blocks be inserted into the open face.”
“Quite possible. If you desire to further explore the great pyramid you have my permission as I am sure there are aspects you wish to learn about but then close up the monument. Fill the corridors of Khafre’s monument and re-seal it. Khaemwaset, offer prayers for their souls. Concentrate your efforts on the tombs of their servants. Whilst anguished by the sacrilege committed through the removal of the king’s body, I am deeply saddened by the suffering inflicted upon those who lived under their heavy hands. Let this be done. I have spoken.”
“Tonight we dine and consider the tombs of the royal families and nobles. We should repair the small damage to the exteriors of the pyramids but our efforts must be devoted to the restoration of temples and shrines erected in honour of the deities. Sennefer, please excuse us for the afternoon. I wish to pray with my son for those whose remains lie before us now. Please re-join us after sunset.”
I crossed to Khafre’s pyramid to issue instructions to seal its entrance. The foreman told me he had cleared the full length of the corridor which was cut downwards into the limestone, ran flat for a while and then ascended slightly until it met a second corridor apparently leading up towards the side of the pyramid. Intrigued,I told him to bring some torches as I wished to make an inspection though I was sure the burial chamber would be empty and my visit would cause no offence to the gods. Entering the darkened corridor, I came upon a smashed granite portcullis which assured me I would find nothing within this tomb. At a juncture between an upper and lower corridor, there was another broken portcullis and, in the belief the upper corridor would finish against the facing stones of the pyramid, I ventured forward until I arrived at the crypt to find a repetition of the dismal vista we found in Khufu’s crypt. A lonely polished granite sarcophagus lay in a recess in the floor of the burial chamber, its broken lid lying beside it, the sarcophagus devoid of content. Such a waste. My inspection offered nothing further and I returned to the foreman, instructed him to refill the corridor and repave the area around its entrance.
On the morrow, I would return to the great pyramid and learn more of its intriguing design but the memory of the two cold, empty royal crypts nestled within the architectural miracles of Khufu and Khafre developed within me a deep sense of futility that remained for many moons. Even if Ramesses’s opinion was correct and both kings were little touched by Horus, they had commissioned fabulous monuments. The shame of it was their builders appeared to have failed to protect their master’s remains by not taking just a few more steps to defend the burial chambers more resolutely. Granite faced crypts, massive structural supports to restrain stresses, sliding blocks to seal corridors, all very clever techniques but when the crucial test was applied, the reason for the pyramid’s construction fell short in the execution. Now I was in a similar position and I knew I must not fail.
The macabre business of opening, repairing and re-sealing noble’s tombs began. Fortunately, most private tombs still retained the remains of their occupants. Many had been broken into centuries ago, though we found evidence of thefts in tombs of more recent construction. Everywhere, funerary goods had been rifled, unknown items stolen and tombs left roughly re-sealed in an attempt to hide the marks of robbery. Coffins had been crudely broken apart and the linen wrapped bodies torn open in search of jewellery. The sight of so many violated and dismembered bodies was sickening. Several tombs contained the burnt remains of bodies and it was not comprehensible why thieves would go to that degree of desecration unless they were particularly irreligious or unsavoury creatures and no better than wild beasts.
Khaemwaset made bitter observations about the quality of workmanship provided by those who prepared bodies for immortality. There was much to indicate a lack of diligence from embalmers, both present and past. Many remains had rotted after entombment, proving the preservation the bodies had been performed poorly or in un-necessary haste, linen bindings negligently applied and, shockingly, animals substituted for the bodies of infants.
He was quick to respond to this dishonourable treatment of the dead. Embalmers plied their trade in workshops attached to the temples as the priestly class was responsible for monitoring the preparation of bodies for entombment. A stern edict was sent to every temple, making it clear any failure to properly attend to this sacred duty would be punished by death. He later told me, with evident satisfaction, over the next years, several embalmers had lost their heads. It distressed me again to learn there appeared no limit to the perfidiousness of certain of the king’s subjects.
Scribes recorded the location of each tomb in the necropolis. Artists copied decorations and inscriptions and their renditions were housed in the House of Life for the use of future tomb makers. Before each consignment of records was sent to Thebes, I read through them and this ultimately led to a discussion some time after the campaign commenced. Ramesses was in Memphis on court business and he took a day away from these duties to accompany Khaemwaset and me on a visit to recently refurbished tombs just south at Darshur.
Pronouncing himself satisfied, we repaired to the palace and over a dinner of roast duck and goat, we sat at our leisure, talking as old men when the troubles of the day are passed and the wine flows. The night air was warm, the sky ablaze with stars. Khonsu’s moon, a perfect orb, hovered over the city, bathing the terrace on which we sat in his pale yellow glow. I addressed them both.
“You know I am a callow fellow when it comes to the deeper understanding of our religious beliefs. For years, I have supervised the drafting of decorations for tombs and temples under the imprimatur of the head priest at Karnak but frankly, I must admit to some confusion. My time to meet Osiris draws nearer with every breath and I fear not the prospect of my death for this will reunite me with Ipi, though I mean no disrespect to Neferure, who has brought an enduring happiness to my life.”
Ramesses held his hand up. “A man may have many loves in his life. In different ways I loved Nefertari, Isetnofret, Hentmire and Maa-Neferu, my Hittite wife. Each brought to my life devotion, love, physical joy, duty and care. Your love of Ipi was true and constant and my daughter is full of praise for her husband.”
He spoke of my marriage to one of his daughters. A year ago, Khaemwaset had again mentioned that several of his sisters had expressed an interest in meeting me, despite my age, which caused me to mildly rebuke him for his irreverence to the mature man. He retorted. “You are an attractive, accomplished man and it is not rightful you remain without a partner. I know that without my wife there would be little happiness in my life. Surely you suffer the pangs of not having a companion to leaven the seriousness of your work?”
“I do. It is now many years since Ipi departed, there seems little surcease to the gravity of my life and the nights are long. When she was with me, her laughter wiped cares from my brow, life was always brighter and my bed warm.”
“Then I believe it is time you meet my sister, Neferure. For reasons completely beyond my comprehension, she seems fascinated with you and she is always pestering me about you. ‘When will Sennefer be in Pi-Ramess?’, ‘Can I travel down to Memphis to meet him?’, ‘He is so distinguished!’ Her chatter is like a mosquito flying around my head in the middle of the night. Do I have your permission to affect a meeting?”
I smiled “So the prince asks the commoner if he can arrange a meeting between a princess and a simple builder. As long as she is not ugly like her elder brother, I see no harm in satisfying her childish desires.”
“She is no child. Like her mother, she is well educated and sometimes of a serious demeanour. You will need your wits around you when you meet her but the king and I have no great fear you are slow witted.”
“Your father knows of her interest?”
“He not only knows of her interest, as she also pesters him about you, he is keen to see her make a marriage. She has firmly rejected any attempt made by him to affect a match, making it abundantly clear there is only one man she is interested in. Personally, I believe she is bewitched and should be sent to the Temple of Isis for a long period of religious instruction as her love is blind to your many imperfections. I will send a message to the Delta telling my innocent little sister I am in need of her assistance with some matter. Then we will let Hathor have her way with you both.”
Some few months later, I was summonsed to join Khaemwaset for dinner in his apartment. The invitation requested I wear my finest garments, noting I would meet a guest of some importance. Believing I was to meet some visiting noble, I presented myself, suitably attired, at the appointed hour. Unusually, no servant attended his quarters, so I strolled out onto the terrace overlooking the river. Hearing a slight noise behind me, I turned to find an elegantly dressed woman standing in the shadows. I made to introduce myself thinking her the wife of the noble we would dine with this night. Before I could speak she said, “I am Neferure and you are Sennefer. We have not met before but I know of you from my father and brothers.” She extended her hand in greeting. I took her hand, felt myself blushing and stumbled through a clumsy greeting in return.
“Perhaps you will sit with me before we dine? My brother sends his apologises as he has been detained on some important matter of state and cannot join us. You do not mind dining with me alone, do you, Lord Architect?”
We had moved closer to each other and now stood under a flaring torch, its flames highlighting her head and body. She had the same hair as her father, burnished copper tresses shone in the light. Tall, slender with high cheekbones, her mother’s golden skin and her father’s long fine nose. I am rarely at a loss for words but I stood like a ka-statue, no words coming readily to my lips.
“Come, Sennefer, do I disquiet you? My brother tells me you are eloquent and speak our language with some fluency. Perhaps a goblet of wine will restore your senses and let me know you have a voice.” She laughed mischievously at my discomfort. Taking my hand in hers, she walked me to the couch, clapped her hands and a servant arrived with a flask of wine, two fine glass goblets and a platter of dates and cheese.
I began “Princess…” “No, Sennefer, when I am with you I am only Neferure. I apologise, the builder of mighty monuments was about to speak. Please continue.” She laughed again, a magic tinkling like a shaken sistrum.
“Neferure, this is a rare pleasure.” I mumbled. “Your brother made no mention of your visiting Memphis. I had not imagined you to be so beautiful. You have left me quite speechless.”
“Four sentences. At least it is a beginning. May I suggest we dine on the terrace where perhaps you can manage of few more words as I have waited many years to meet the man who has brought so much honour to my father. He sends his warmest greetings and blessings.”
The dinner with Neferure was one of the most enchanting moments of my life. Inevitably, as our attraction grew over the next months and matured into a deep love, I summoned my courage, travelled to Pi-Ramess to ask the king for his daughter’s hand in marriage. His response was immediate and enthusiastic.
“You have chosen well and it pleases me greatly to see you smile again. Neferure is very close to my heart, though she needs a strong man to tame her but with gentleness. You are such a man. Keep in mind, I believe if she was a man she would make an excellent ruler.”
“Master, I doubt if I had anything to do with making a choice. I am embarrassed to admit the choice was made by your daughter as I was rendered powerless from our first meeting. The thought of her being by my side gives me new life.”
“I am glad, my friend. You may not know it but my daughter had waited patiently for your visits to Pi-Ramess for years and took every opportunity to spy upon you in the most shameless manner. A man needs a woman to make his life whole and you are the only man I know who can bring her to full flower. A little news. I have also taken a new wife, Sutereray, and unlike the daughters I have married, she warms my bed wonderfully. We may both regain some measure of youth.”
“Sennefer. Lord architect, are you still with us or does your mind wander more frequently in your declining years?” queried Ramesses, possibly discerning the reason for my silence. I stopped my reverie and gathered my thoughts.
“Thank you, Ramesses, for your words of kindness. Both women have enriched my life immeasurably and, yes, I believe my mind is still functioning. Years ago, we discussed the reason for being entombed surrounded by treasured possessions and I questioned how the dead could enjoy the funerary goods within a tomb. I now understand that when the ba bird visits my remains, it will derive comfort amongst the reminders of this life.”
Khaemwaset said “A reasonable interpretation. Our mortal shell is made imperishable by embalming, so it is fitting it rests amidst representations of the first stage of a journey that ends in eternity.”
“What form does the Second Life take? I have studied many texts about the passage from this life to the next through the Underworld and understand the necessity of books of instruction and guidance on the difficult journey but there is scant reference to the nature of the Afterlife. What form do I take, how am I sustained, do I recognise my friends? Will I know Ipi?”
The king answered. “It is heartening to see you may, at last, seek to escape your irreverent ways. You touch on the great unknown for none who have made the voyage to the Second Life have returned. Let my son and I try to explain the glorious story of life and our faith, as we believe it. I have studied our religion, though not as deeply as Khaemwaset. You remember I expelled a tribe of captive Canaanites as they were a troublesome people and not worth the effort of keeping them as slaves? Like Akhenaten, they worshipped one god, Yahweh, whom they believe created the world and oversaw its functions. These Canaanites were an unhappy and fractious people, much given to lamentations and breast beating. They are also a foolish people as their belief in one god makes no concession to the reality of life.”
“We are a pragmatic people and have been from the moment Atum’s tears brought forth life and the family of gods who rule us. In his principal manifestation, he is Amum-Min-Kamutef, the original creator. As Amum-Re,he constantly regenerates the elements. From him sprang Geb, the earth god and Nut, the sky goddess, who begat Osiris, Isis, Nepthys and Seth. Other children were born of his tears and each fulfils a particular role in our lives. Khnum fashions each of us on his potter’s wheel. Our gestation, birth and early life are attended by Hathor, Heket, Nekhbet, Sobek and Theoris. The land is made fertile by Osiris from the fountainhead of his body. In this, he is supported by Tefnut, Runenetet, Mnevis, Hapi, Min, Satet and Anuqet, all of whom have separate but important parts to play in the endless cycle of birth, life, death and immortality.”
“Anubis stands guardian of the dead, Isis the bridge between this life and eternity, Nephthys mourns the dead and revives their ba, Selket, with the sons of Horus, Amset, Duatmutef, Hapi and Qebehsenuf, protect our remains. Sokar stands guard over the Memphite necropolis whilst Meretseger protects the dead in the Great Place. In life, Amun, Re, Ptah and Sakhmet with Khepri, Khonsu, Horus, Bastet, Bes, Amaunet, Nut, Shu and Werethekau, give impetus to the great wheel of mortal existence as it turns, causing the sun to rise, stars in the night sky to gleam and the moon to shine. My hand in war is strengthened by Neith and Montu.”
“In the Second Life, kings judged favourably become oarsmen on Amun-Re’s solar barque. During the sacred barque’s nocturnal passage through the Underworld, Seth defends Amun-Re against the incessant attacks of Apophis who seeks to destroy him as the god spreads light and warmth to the souls tending divine wheat in the verdant Fields of Reeds.”
“As a builder, Thoth and Seshat shepherd your skills. Many of our gods form divine associations. In Memphis, Ptah, Sakhmet and Nefertem, at Abydos, Osiris, Isis and Horus and in Thebes, Amun-Re, Mut and Khonsu are holy triads. Together, the parts make a homogeneous family of deities, some living amongst us and others residing below the Western Horizon.”
“I, above all past rulers, have been uniquely blessed by my father, Amun-Re. I know not the reason for this singular benediction but I am his son. He has blessed me with many wise and brave children and he delivered unto my hands you, Sennefer.”
“Master, I do not believe I am endowed with any exceptional abilities. I am your willing servant, an attendant through whom you express your devotion to the gods, a mere tool in your hands with which to fashion monuments.”
“You are wrong, my friend. From the beginning, I merely decreed that you build and you interpreted my command with little hesitation. Your works are prodigious and the stones you took raw and unworked, house shrines to the gods in supreme glory. Thoth himself watches over you. Does not his avatar, the ibis, accompany your labours?”
At this point, Ramesses stretched his arm outwards into the darkness that enveloped the necropolis.
“What of the work of your peers? All I see in this graveyard are monuments to men, self-exalting mortals who worshipped themselves and gave scant credence to our gods. Those in your field of architecture respect Imhotep, King Djoser’s great builder and it is right he should be so respected. But of the king himself? I judge him to have been a man of immense vanity. Where is the humility in his pyramid complex? Where is the self-effacement in any who followed his example? For centuries, kings who ordained pyramids be built, did so with one objective in mind. Our investigations confirm that the rulers who commissioned these monstrosities channelled the effort of their people and the kingdom’s resources to the creation of monuments in self worship and not to the gods who graced them with the crook and flail.”
“The gods are slow to anger.” he continued, his face stern. “Daily, as Re-Harakhty commands the solar barque rise into the sky, so the deities present a fresh opportunity for a ruler to pause and consider his duty. Throughout his life, a ruler is rarely judged as he has total freedom to choose wisely or badly. The moment of judgement comes when a ruler stands, bareheaded, before the scales of Osiris. Then, The Ruler of the West chooses to either throw his heart to Ammut to be consumed or indicates, with his wand, a seat on the solar barque where each day is golden.”
I could see my folly in posing innocent questions to two exponents of the faith. Ramesses poured another beaker of wine and settled more comfortably on his couch. The night would be long. Khaemwaset spoke. “Our history is extensive. It is a chronicle of endless regeneration and mortality moving over vast cycles of time. We see a representation of these cycles in our lifetime. All life is created, lives and dies at the behest of the deities. Behind this divine intervention, a more subtle cycle unfolds. Our land has experienced five lengthy revolutions of the divine wheel. From the primeval mound watered by Atum’s tears, there arose a lotus blossom from which our first King, Menes, sprung fully formed. For almost three hundred years, he and his inheritors gathered into their hands the elements we recognise as Egypt. Then, the first line collapsed amidst internal fighting and the land lapsed into chaos.”
“Djoser, a righteous man came to the throne. He and his successors were the great pyramid builders, yet the record of royal lineage is unclear. It indicates the possibility of usurpation of the crown by several minor men until the reign of King Teti, when unity returned under a strong line of rulers though, ultimately, the last rulers of the era caused the gods to avert their eyes from our land, which again was cleft in half with one group, claiming to be the sons of Horus, ruling the north. In Thebes ,the true inheritors of the divine mantle, established a new, brave dynasty that culminated in the re-unification of the country under King Mentuhotep I.”
Pausing to take refreshment, Khaemwaset continued. “It is not known what happened during the rule the final successor, Mentuhotep IV, other than texts that record a great famine afflicted the land until Amenemhat seized the throne and moved the capital from Thebes to Itj-tawy. Think on this. This event, which heralded the beginning of new line of dynamic rulers, happened only seven hundred years ago. The line he initiated ran some two centuries and ended with the brief reign of Queen Sobkneferu. There followed complete chaos. In a period of about one hundred and thirty years, at least fifty men claimed the throne. We have their names, there are texts, some buildings of note, unfinished pyramids litter the landscape and queens seemed to have married any commoner with a strong arm. The crown was caught by whoever could leap highest. Our work in Memphis may allow us to untangle this maze but one aspect is clear beyond dispute. Our gods were ignored and they in turn shunned the kingdom. The river failed to flood, famine and despair became the companion of all.”
“The result of the disregard of our gods was a foregone conclusion. Like a weakened lion in its death throes, our land succumbed to the ultimate divine punishment; invasion and enslavement by the Asiatic Heka-khasut, the Hyksos, whose leaders dared, called themselves pharaohs. In the south, around Thebes, valiant men struggled to regain control of Egypt They beseeched Amun, asking him to give them the strength to defeat and expel the Hyksos. The gods detected a return to true veneration and the admission that, without our gods by their side, we could but wallow in the mire of foreign rule.”
“Khnum turned to his potter’s wheel and fashioned the noble King Ta’a, who started the revolution that saw Ahmose finally throw the Hyksos back into the sea, their blood washing his chariot wheels. Amun-Re’s light flooded the land again and the people rejoiced until Amun’s supremacy was threatened by the fool, Akhenaten, who sought to overthrow the throne of reason with his misbegotten concept of divinity. Then, the gods were quick to react with bountiful mercy. The gods saw in Akhenaten and his son, Tutankhamen, the denigration of righteousness. Khnum fashioned another exemplary man, Horemheb, destined to restore virtue in Egypt. His decree at the Karnak temple reads. ‘Marvel at all you see before you, our gods guide us anew and justice is restored to the land and its people’.
Ramesses spoke, “Do you perceive divine intervention throughout this cycle, Sennefer? You must study our history to understand the nature of this cycle and the relationship between deities and humans. It is a partnership but never an equal bargain, as we are the god’s creatures. We need do little more than repay them for what they willingly render unto us. You will not find an evil deity as each god is part of a whole and the whole is benevolent.”
I interjected “What of Seth, the bringer of disorder and chaos. He is called the Lord of the Deserts and Foreign Lands - not a flattering appellation. He and Horus still fight for mastery of the world. Yet, Seth stands on the bow of the solar barque where, nightly, he succeeds in overcoming Apophis, Re’s greatest enemy. Your grandfather named his son Seti, your father commenced the temple to Seth in Abydos and I remember a conversation about the appropriateness of building in honour of Seth. Your response at the time was short and very crisp. However, my confusion remains. Either Seth is a deity representing evil or he is a loyal defender of Re? Whilst ma’at represents order, isfet is the opposing concept of sin, evil and wrong-doing. Does the concept of isfet reside in Seth?”
“Hah” said Ramesses. “I see you do not sit idly at your table playing with measuring instruments. There have been many members of my family with the name Seti. The family has, for as long as we know, resided in the Delta. My great-grandfather was the royal household’s envoy in Canaan during the reign of Akhenaten. Seth is an ancient Asiatic deity and he was worshipped as a minor deity in the eastern Delta. Khaemwaset, perhaps you can tell Sennefer of this god who is near to the heart of the Paramessu family.”
“We do not accept Seth as a god of disorder, in fact, we acknowledge Seth as the companion of Horus, protector of the king, with whom he is shown handing the king the crown.”
“Surely, there is a deity that embodies all that is evil?”
“No, none embody the concept of isfet. To understand isfet, you must appreciate our fundamental theology. The gods suffer not the emotions that beset humans. There is no discord amongst them, as thoughts of sin, jealousy, lust, greed, envy and hatred do not exist. They do not compete with each other but complement each other in bringing love and prosperity to the world. We mortals experience every emotion as we are not, as yet, divine. Only after death, do we shrug off these fervent coils. Our religion teaches there is a choice in our lifetime between praising the benevolence of the deities whilst striving to achieve the inner and outward precepts of ma’at. Those who chose an opposite path and give sway to baser emotions will suffer the most dire fate of all – the loss of their soul.”
“To answer your question about Ipi,” said the king. “She awaits you as do all that preceded us and, in time, we will welcome those who follow us. Enough of this serious subject, it slows my blood and all this talking has made me thirsty. We need to take some time from our labours. What better way of clearing the head than some hunting.”
“Hunting? I rarely see a gazelle, antelope or lion in the necropolis and I am certainly past fighting crocodiles and hippopotami on the river.”
“You become old in your ways, Sennefer. Too many days are spent poring over crumbling scrolls and reading of dead kings. Even my son here becomes stooped with the burden of learning. The next Sed Festival at Thebes is nigh, is it not?”
“The festival is in one month, father. You need stay three days for the celebration and then you are free of religious commitments until the Festival of Min.”
“We should go to Thebes now and spend six or seven days there as I would like to inspect my tomb. Then we can sail down to Elephantine, visit the temple and fortresses and pass some time amongst my subjects. Thereafter, we voyage northwards and stop wherever we like and take as much time as we wish. A journey from Memphis to Elephantine and back to Pi-Ramess will take at least half a year. There are palaces in every major city, our wives will make pleasant company and I will be seen by my subjects. Khaemwaset may join us as his responsibilities allow. Sennefer, what do you say?”
“Now that Rekhmire has assumed most of my responsibilities in all but title, I have few commitments save the work in the necropolis. I planned to travel to Thebes to inspect the secret tomb anyway, so I would be honoured to join you in your travels.”
“Excellent. I will ensure we have some fishing lines for you.”
Thus began our odyssey. The days drifted into months and months into years in an endless cycle of travel and leisurely work. Ramesses tried to persuade Neferure and me to take up permanent residence in Pi-Ramess but we preferred the life in Memphis, although we were little in residence anywhere. So well established became the king’s peregrinations along the river, they took on the nature of a regal progress. He instructed the building of a special fleet of vessels that could drop anchor at any remote spot he fancied yet be equipped with all the luxuries he needed to cosset him as he aged. Long gone were the simple desert tents and rough food of his youth. They were replaced with graceful furniture, soft bedding, pavilions of fine linen and a vessel designated a kitchen ship.
As the years passed, his desire to hunt remained strong but his ability to go roughshod into the field and best lions and other prey lessened. He would still accompany the hunters but no longer challenged the animals, being content to watch the chase from his chariot. Depending on the season and our destination, our wives chose either to join us or remain in the palaces, explaining that the novelty of desert living, though sometimes fascinating, could never replace the comforts of well-appointed accommodation. We noticed, without comment, the excuse arose the closer we came to cities with fresh opportunities to find novelties. If the voyage took Ramesses from the Delta to Thebes, he took one or two of his wives with him but only Sutereray would accompany him past Thebes on the southern leg of a voyage. She and Neferure became fast friends as she found her elder sisters too pompous in the largely ceremonial role of royal wives.
I chanced to overhear a conversation between them one afternoon as we sailed on a lazy river towards Herakleopolis. My wife remarked “The royal wives, Meryetamun, Bintanath and Nebettawy, all wither on the vine and dry up. What is their life? They have beautiful clothes and jewellery, their apartments are well furnished but they cannot enjoy the companionship of the bed chamber with the king or any other man. Their wombs are empty. We lack for nothing, enjoy more freedom and know well the pleasures of our lusty husbands. I would not exchange this life for the sterility of their existence.”
“I blush to admit it, but your father is like a lion and I am well satisfied. He can be very tender but if the mood strikes him…” Sutereray laughed.
“Perhaps they eat some divine food. Sennefer is two years older than the king but he behaves like a youth in the bed chamber. Unhappily, I am yet to bear him children but it is not through any lack of effort.” As I found my cheeks burning, I thought it best to withdraw and join Ramesses, who was fishing at the stern.
“This is the life. I have struck a happy balance between duty and leisure. The small vessel that came alongside this morning carried messages from the north. The vizier and treasurer report all is well, the Sed Festival is behind me for another three years, my ministers advise my subjects are content and the fish bite well today. Khaemwaset sent me another long and detailed report. My son works too hard, worries himself overly and takes on onerous responsibilities - repairs around Memphis, The House of Life at Thebes and his duties as high priest - it is too much. Merenptah has relieved me of the burdens of administration and yet finds time for leisure. You are very close to Khaemwaset. Is there nothing you can do to slow the pace of his life?” pleaded Ramesses.
“No, Ramesses. I have urged him to spend more time with us on these voyages. The work in the necropolis is almost a matter of course now. Workmen have few complaints about life in their village and refurbishing pillaged tombs is in the very capable hands of Khaemwaset’s eldest son. A remarkable young man, almost a copy of his father! He will be a worthy successor to the high priesthood when your son comes to the throne. Remember when we were Khaemwaset’s age? We too laboured mightily. He is young and will learn soon enough to take his ease.”
“How does he look to you? When I last saw him he appeared drawn and he lacks the vigour we once enjoyed. You and I spent more time outdoors in our youth and drew sustenance from fresh air and sunlight whilst he seems content to dwell within the cloisters of the temple.”
“Unhappily, your observation is all too true. He is always tired and recently he complains of pains in his chest. The prince is not well and I think you should order him to join us once we reach Memphis. Some time spent in the Delta would be an excellent restorative.”
“I shall speak with him when we arrive. Perhaps I will ask him to join Merenptah on a mission to the Hittite king as raids by the Sea People are becoming a too frequent event. I am considering a joint land and sea offensive against their strongholds and Khaemwaset is the most able of my sons in matters of diplomacy. The journey to Hatti is long and pleasant and it would be a diversion from his self-imposed burdens. Enough of this worry. Find yourself a fishing line as the perch appear to be drawn to my hook. I will offer a prayer to Hapi to see if he can induce the fish to find your lure.”
Next morning, my slumber was disturbed by a great commotion. Neferure woke with a startled look. Clearly alarmed, she asked “What is wrong? What is that noise?” I dressed quickly and went to the deck. Ramesses was already there, watching a warship thrashing its way towards us at battle speed, the sweat on the rower’s bodies obvious even in the cool of the morning’s first light. “Your eyesight is keener than mine. Is that the vizier standing on the deck?”
“Yes, and Khaemwaset’s son stands at his side.” The rowers shipped oars, helmsmen threw their rudders hard over and mooring lines were thrown on board the royal barque and the two vessels swiftly lashed together. Our captain hastily ordered a gangway pushed between them. The vizier and Khaemwaset’s son, Prince Hori, crossed the gangway and prostrated themselves at the king’s feet. I was watching the men on board the vizier’s vessel. All were downcast and many had faces wet with tears. I was filled with a sense of foreboding and turned my attention to the two men prostrate on the deck. The king pulled Menna, the vizier, to his feet.
“What is it, what is the matter? Is the kingdom under attack?” demanded Ramesses. Drawing a deep breath, Menna looked directly at him.
“Master, would it be so. I bring terrible tidings. Your son, Prince Khaemwaset, was found dead this morning in his quarters. His manservant found him stretched out on the floor many hours after he began his voyage to the Second Life. I am deeply sorry.” His eyes watered and tears fell down his cheeks. Ramesses flinched as though bitten by an asp. He appeared ready to crumble and I grabbed his arm to steady him. He looked down at his grandson, still prostrate on the deck.
“Come, Hori, raise yourself up.” said Ramesses tenderly. Prince Hori stood and fell against his grandfather’s chest and Ramesses locked him in an embrace, their bodies shuddering in the depth of their emotions. Sutereray and Neferure appeared on deck at this moment, heard the news and moved to comfort their men. The rest of us withdraw a short distance and I conferred with Menna. “How did he die? Was his death natural or was there some attack on his person?”
“No, Sennefer, he died naturally. The doctors examined his body for signs of wounds or poisons. It is their opinion, his heart failed him. His body has been taken to the mortuary temple and we await the king’s instructions. Word was spreading when I left Memphis and the people are in a state of great lamentation.”
Ramesses looked quite ill and I thought he might collapse. Still supporting Prince Hori,he spoke, though quietly, ‘Sennefer, Sutereray, Neferure, gather your possessions quickly and board the warship. Captain, exchange our rowers with the warship’s crew as we need fresh men to get us to Memphis as soon as possible. You can follow us with my fleet. Menna, Hori, you will join us on the warship.”
It took but a few minutes for us to make our preparations and embark the warship. Oarsmen exchanged places, the commander cut loose the moorings and turned his vessel southwards. Once mid-stream, the order was given to row at speed to Memphis some ten kilometres away. The king called us to the commander’s cabin where he sat, his emotions under tight control. “Menna, attend me with writing instruments. Sutereray, Neferure, please take care of Prince Hori whilst we meet.”
As these requests were made, the hortator’s wooden mallets beat out an urgent cadence. This was the first time I had been on a warship driven at speed and she fairly flew down the river. Although heavily timbered, she raced like a warhorse charging against massed infantry, her keel cutting a deep furrow in the water, sails billowing as we hastened towards the place of death.
“Menna, proclaim one week of national mourning once we arrive. You are to send a messenger to Thebes requesting the high priest join us in Memphis immediately as I cannot ask Prince Hori to preside over the services for his father. Sennefer, you will break the seals at Prince Khaemwaset’s treasury and prepare to move his funerary goods to his tomb.” He addressed the warship’s commander. “Captain, as soon as we reach Memphis, you need attain Pi-Ramess as quickly as possible. I will give you a message to deliver to my family. When they are ready, you will commandeer as many transports as you need to bring them to Memphis. You may go.”
“Menna, where is Prince Merenptah?” The vizier replied. “I understand he is on manoeuvres with the army at Sile.”
“Come to my palace this afternoon. I will have letters for Prince Merenptah, my children and provincial governors for you to despatch. Bring with you the Guard commander as I will have a message for him to despatch to the fortresses in the Delta and another to be delivered to the garrisons at Elephantine and Kush. I want my army on full alert lest our enemies see an opportunity to attack a kingdom in mourning. Now, gentlemen, I must comfort my family in this time of grief.”
Menna, the captain and I stood aside as he went to his family, then silently watched as the river banks sped past. Idly I asked the captain, “How long can the oarsmen keep up this pace?”
“It is a good thing we are so near the city as a well trained crew can only maintain battle speed for not more than a short time but the oarsmen seem strangely strengthened by the gods. My vessel has never before moved so swiftly. See, the sails are full, yet no breeze ruffles the trees on the river banks. The breath of Isis fills the sails and Hapi’s hand lifts the keel high in the water. Truly, our king is a god.”
Memphis soon hove into sight. First, the tops of the temple pylons, then its walls and finally the city itself. A profound silence had fallen on the city. Where the warship came alongside the quay, the officials and townsmen awaiting us were mute. When the king stepped ashore, all fell to their knees, their foreheads touching the ground. Gone were the bright colours of previous arrivals, no musicians filled the air with their merry sounds though a slow, swelling sound came towards us.
Two lines of priests approached the quay, softly intoning a mourning chant for their now dead high priest. Ramesses sent our wives to the palace. Then he took station between the priests, beckoning Menna, Hori and me to stand behind him as we began the sombre march to the mortuary temple. How wrong this was, I thought. We should be here to mourn the passing of the king, not his eldest son and heir. Was this the price Ramesses had to pay for being a god? Would his divinity continue to plague him all the days of his life?
How terrible our procession to the temple. Each step cost the king dearly, the strain evident in the tensed leg and back muscles and a barely perceptible quivering of his head. Though in public it is forbidden to touch a pharaoh, Menna and I moved close to him, should he falter. He struggled along the processional avenue, through the pylons and across the courtyard before reaching the sepulchre reserved for the dead. The cortege stopped, unsure what to do.
“Sennefer, Hori, attend me.” he exhaled through gritted teeth. Quickly, we flanked him as he stumbled into the room as Menna closed the curtains against the eyes of the curious. In front of us lay the prince, his body on a plinth of alabaster, shrouded from head to toe. Finally, confronted with the reality of his son’s death, Ramesses fell to the floor like a mortally wounded animal. He lay, panting with laboured breath, unable to raise his eyes to the plinth. I knelt and cradled his head to my chest. He wept. Great wrenching sobs wracking his frame and the tears flowed freely down his cheeks. Prince Hori folded back the shroud from his father’s face, kissed his forehead before embracing the still form.
At last the tears stopped and the king calmed himself. With my assistance, he rose and walked to the plinth. Hori stepped back as he folded the shroud down to his son’s waist, exposing the awful colour of death to our eyes. Khaemwaset’s face was contorted in the pain he must have felt when the spark of life fled and his hands were clenched against his chest in the rigour of death.
Behind the plinth there stood a statue of Osiris, with Anubis recumbent at his feet. Ramesses approached the figure. He stood before it, placing his hands on the god’s shoulders. He said something we could not comprehend, despite the silence in the room. Moving back to the body, he gently placed his hands on the distorted face and looked at Osiris and I swear before all the gods, his son’s face lost the look of pain and changed to one of serenity. Taking the lifeless arms in his hands, Ramesses again looked at Osiris and down to the body. Moving gently again, he took the arms from the chest and placed them along the sides of the body. The clenched fists opened without being touched. Silently, Ramesses replaced the shroud, pausing only to kiss his son farewell. He took one final look at Osiris, then at the enshrouded body and turned to us.
“Speak not of this to anyone. We must go as there is nothing more I can do to ease my son’s journey to the Afterlife.” He took our hands in his and they were strangely hot and dry.
We left the temple and, whilst I spent many days in intimate conversation with Ramesses as we waiting for the day of entombment, no word was spoken between us of the episode. Time passed slowly during the period required to preserve Khaemwaset’s body. His brothers, sisters and the nobility arrived from across of the kingdom. He had instructed only the most immediate members of his family should attend his entombment as he had chosen a remote place for his tomb in the Libyan Hills, far to the west of Memphis. When he asked me to build a tomb, he revealed that, in death, he wished not to be encumbered with worldly possessions. He wanted no decorations on the walls of his crypt, a simple basalt sarcophagus and unadorned coffins of cedar wood.
“My life has been lived in preparation for eternity. I know the texts that offer guidance to the dead and I have no need for possessions in the Beautiful West. When the ba bird flies to my tomb it will find only my mortal remains. I will draw nourishment from the primeval waters and Field of Reeds and I hope to spend my Second Life in the service of the gods. Advice of my wishes has been given to my father, should I die before him.”
He had then laughed. “If however, I am the pharaoh when I die, it will be necessary to suffer the charade of a regal burial in the Great Place in the same tomb as my father, as I don’t wish to see a royal tomb prepared for me but never used. Later, my remains are to be removed in secrecy and taken to my resting place in the hills. Instructions for this eventuality have been given to Merenptah and my son in sealed pouches. What I have learned about the base nature of some of our fellow creatures taught me that my earthly husk must never be found by mortals. The place I have chosen will allow Re to bathe me in his divine light and, during the hours of night, I will serve Osiris as he presides over the Underworld.”
All the official mourners had arrived by the time the ritual preparation of the body was complete. Bakenkhons conducted the ceremony then, at the conclusion of the service, he surprised those attending by disclosing Khaemwaset’s wish that only the most immediate members of the royal family would accompany his body to his grave site. The morning after the service, a small group, led by me - Ramesses, Merenptah,Hori, Bakenkhons and Menna - left Memphis The coffin was mounted on a stout sled and hauled by twenty temple priests.
Once we left the plain and began the ascent into the Libyan Hills, the priests were blindfolded and I led them to the plateau by a circuitous path. When we reached the grave site, the blindfolds were removed and the coffin lowered down a long shaft dug into the limestone. Once it reached the bottom, the funeral party followed it down by ladder. We hauled the coffin up a ramp, through a pillared hall and placed Khaemwaset within his sarcophagus and slid the lid in place. Bakenkhons performed the Opening the Mouth ritual, recited prayers, we offered private farewells and then returned to the surface. I lingered a moment before ascending.
Beside the shaft’s mouth there was a stack of granite boulders I had shipped from Aswan years ago when quarrying the tomb and a pile of limestone chippings created during the excavation. I held my hand up indicating silence, a silence broken by a grinding sound deep within the hill, two dull thuds and then, the ground on which we stood trembled slightly. I instructed the priests to drop the granite boulders down the shaft and shovel the chips into the hole. Ramesses, watching this business, asked what were those sounds below us.
“The confirmation that your son’s tomb has been internally sealed. Before I ascended, I broke two clay pots, sand ran out of small tunnels cut into the rock which in turn released two limestone blocks that slid down, hit the first columns in the pillared hall causing them to collapse, bringing down the ceiling, which had been weakened when we built the crypt. The columns were many and slender and I believe the sliding blocks destroyed them all as I designed them to act like scythes cutting through wheat stalks. Your son’s burial chamber is now isolated by, what I hope, was a considerable fall of rock. The masonry being thrown into the shaft is just a device to increase the difficulties of robbers, should they ever find the location of the tomb.”
“During the excavation, I had most of the chippings taken away and dumped in another valley. The well worn track to the tomb has been covered by rocks and sand placed there by the last of the masons when the excavation was completed. Time has softened the route and, as you probably noticed, the path I took was over apparently virgin ground. You may also observe that, from where we stand, it is impossible to determine where we are in relation to the city. The plateau is deeply furrowed with small valleys and one area looks very much like the other. Only three men knew the exact location of this tomb. One now lies beneath our feet. Prince Hori and I are the other two and we take the secret to our grave. I believe we can trust Bakenkhons and Menna as I doubt they are candidates for tomb robbers.”
“You are a unique man, Sennefer and the gods have given you very unusual talents. I read my son’s letters after his death, something I never conceived I would be in a position to do. He was fulsome in his praise of your years of devotion to the restoration of the Memphite necropolis. Khaemwaset would have made a gifted ruler as he was endowed with aspects of character I lack and greater wisdom in many matters. I have lived too long. It is a terrible thing to bury the son who should have taken my place on the throne. My grief is only tempered by the knowledge his remains are inviolate and his soul now reposes with the Elect of Heaven.”
As we spoke, the last boulders and chips went down the shaft. The priests then shovelled rocks and sand over the mouth until the area was indistinguishable from its surrounds. We gathered and Bakenkhons led us in one final prayer, accompanied by the chanting of the priests. Just before we turned towards Memphis, Ramesses and Hori looked back, tears in their eyes, hopefully the last humans to look upon the grave of a truly great son of Egypt.