The king lived on, seemingly indestructible but the price he paid for his longevity was great. As his reign lengthened, so it was marked with more deaths.
After Khaemwaset’s passing, Neferure and I left Memphis and moved north to Pi-Ramess. Memories of Ipi still lingered in the house and I found myself recalling, with fondness, her pleasure in my coming home with unusual gifts, the joy received from the exquisite treasures given by Nefertari and Isetnofret and the care she took in living with items bought in Thebes and the Delta for our living quarters. Before her entombment, I packed many of the most cherished tokens of our life together, in cedar chests and placed them within her crypt but it proved too emotionally wrenching to remove every trace of her and nor did I wish this. There were still pieces in the house that brought back sweet memories and, if Neferure noticed these occasional moments of reflection, she tactfully made no mention of my tender recollections.
Happily, Hathor and Sobek granted to us several children and watching them grow into adulthood and develop their own lives has been a delight. Our sons have followed in my footsteps and my family is well respected throughout the land.
As the seasons passed, the gods continued to reap a melancholy harvest amongst the king’s children. By his eighty-ninth year, his twelve eldest sons had died and many younger sons and daughters had made their voyage into eternity. Only his great wife, Bintanath, survived from his eldest daughters and the Beautiful Valley held the tombs of Nebettawy, Meryetamun, Hentmire, Henttawy, Sutereray and his beloved Nefertari.
The loss of his elder sons grieved him deeply as these were the men who helped him consolidate his rule. Amunhirkopshef, Meryamun, Seti, Senpenre and Prehirwenemef had stood beside their father at the triumphal service after Qadesh. Ramesses, Admiral of the fleet he built with dedication, Mentuhirkopshef and Setemhiramun were at his side during the siege of Dapur, Nebenkharu served with excellence as governor of Nubia and Meryre and Horhiwonemef followed distinguished careers in pharaoh’s army. Khaemwaset’s death was the most grievous blow of all and Ramesses felt his loss more keenly than the rest. As the king aged, much of the burden of kingdom’s stewardship fell to Merenptah and his brother, Amenhotep, with Ramesses relinquishing administrative matters to his remaining eldest sons.
Being of a similar age, Ramesses and I slipped easily into the habits of old men. Some days, we fished on the river’s edge, made devotions together, discussed the vagaries of life or played senet in tree-shaded pavilions in the palace gardens. To pass the time and keep our minds sharp, he had taken to ordering copies of archives from the House of Life for despatch to Pi-Ramess, where we spent hours studying the chronicles of the past. One summer’s afternoon, fresh from the luncheon table we sat, reading together. Perhaps the food was too rich and he became dyspeptic. He looked up from a scroll, tapped me on my arm and said,
“I wish to talk about a matter taxing my mind.”
“Master, as always I am at your immediate service. Of what do you wish to talk?” He no longer admonished me when I showed less than reverence for his person, acknowledging long ago I was incorrigible and beyond redemption.
He grumbled. “Merenptah is a solid man but lacks the strategic finesse of Khaemwaset. His greatest strength, his military skills, will stand the kingdom in good stead against the Sea People and Libu, who become more restive by the year. I do not know how much longer the Hittites can resist the hostile pressures they face from these aggressive parasites. I advised Merenptah to attack and destroy some portion of their alliance before it becomes too powerful but he tells me he prefers to wait and watch, not, in my opinion, the sign of a dynamic ruler.”
“Possibly, Great Lion of the Desert, he does not want a repetition of the difficulties you experienced at Qadesh. The Sea People are principally a maritime power and our naval commanders don’t know, as yet, where their main battle fleets are based so Merenptah strengthens our naval forces and trains more soldiers. Let the trouble come to us, if it must. It is my observation that sailors do not make good soldiers and the Delta’s fortifications are immense. Now that we receive shipments of iron weapons from the Hittites, our infantry is much better equipped than they were when you impetuously sallied forth into Canaan as a young warrior-king.”
“I curse the infirmity age brings. My teeth give me endless trouble, my back is bent and my body aches. If it was not for these irritants, I would gird my loins again and show my son how to smite Asiatic heads.”
“You become petulant in your old age. You have many capable children left to defend the kingdom. Was it not last week the vizier and treasurer spoke of the stability and wealth of your realm. You have built strong and deep.”
“Sennefer, let me give you a short lesson in governing a kingdom. You are a brilliant architect, possibly the best this country has seen but there is more to the strength of a country than just its buildings. Yes, our fortifications are admirable, our army and navy well equipped and trained, we have been at peace for over sixty years, the granaries burst with seed and my treasury rooms are stacked high with gold and electrum bars. But what has made this so?” He looked at me keenly, not really expecting an answer to this rhetorical question. One thing I had learnt about Ramesses was that, when he wanted to expostulate, the listener should remain mute and, though he was an aged lion, his claws had not been drawn and he could unsheathe them when annoyed or frustrated.
“One thing and only one thing, me! You have spent half your lifetime researching our past and you possess a profound intellect. The House of Life is a tribute to you and Khaemwaset and, if Nefertari were still alive, she might kiss your leathery face by way of thanks. Over the past decade, we have read almost every scroll and document stored in those dusty rooms and what do you learn from these piles of dry papyrus? Surely you have read about the Akkadians, Amorites, Sumerians, Assyrians,Cretans, Babylonians and their King, Hammurabi? You know of the Hittites but do you study the information coming in from my agents to the north of Hatti? From whence come these Sea People, why do they ally against the Hittites and lust after our wealth?”
“My kingdom, Egypt, has enjoyed a civilisation for over1,700 years and, as far as I can detect, there has never been a nation like ours in the great world around us. Yet during the centuries, other kingdoms have risen, matured and then fallen like over-ripe fruit from a tree. Mighty warriors have built these kingdoms, just as Kamose and Ahmose rose up from obscurity to re-build the realm after the Hyksos invaders. We only need to look at the role Horemheb took in recent history to observe the singular importance of one great man.” He paused to ensure he held my attention.
“When last I consulted the King List I counted over one hundred and ninety men and a few women who have claimed to be a ruler. I ask you, how many of those rulers can you name, let alone declare great? Most were ephemeral, many were fools, the majority sat on the throne as though it was a bed and a few, so few you could not fill the room in which we sit, were men who aspired to greatness and achieved it. The royal mantle has fallen on many shoulders but the spark igniting the passion to rule majestically has been given to only this handful. The gods have looked at Egypt, their creation, and infused the few chosen or determined enough to seize an opportunity presented.”
“I, a living god, was delivered to make our land the most magnificent country the world has known and this I have achieved. The burning desire to succeed, to build in honour of the gods and then successfully rule a kingdom is a unique gift. I dared to believe they had honoured Khaemwaset with the same aptitude but he was taken prematurely and I know not why my parents have so forsaken me. Now I live in hope Merenptah has been granted this same inspired gift but doubts gnaw at my soul.”
“And in your heart, Ramesses, do you see this talent?”
“To be honest, despite demonstrating much ability, I have yet to see the bond with Horus manifest itself as he seems not divinely inspired or he conceals the inspiration well. My deeper concerns lie with his children, his heir, Prince Seti and his brothers, Khaemwaset and Merenptah, as I perceive no spark, no sign of strength, no great devotion to the gods and this troubles me deeply. I am almost ashamed they bear the same names as the best of my own.” Deep within my soul, I was anguished at the king’s terrible despair and sought to find words to bring him comfort.
“They honour you in their choice of names. They are as yet young and you must allow them time to mature.”
“I fear you are wrong, Sennefer. Seti is now older than I was when I ascended the throne and he has married Tawosret, an odious, grasping woman, who is not fit to walk in an embalmer’s shadow, let alone at the side of a future ruler. Have seeds already been sown that will grow into weeds to choke the throne with their rankness?”
“Only the gods can answer your question. I may not fully understand the attributes required to rule a kingdom, although you obviously possess these skills. What can never be questioned is the significance of your rule and achievements. If you were to die at this moment, none will ever doubt your greatness, what you have built, not only in buildings and monuments to the gods but a kingdom that has enjoyed a time of peace and prosperity without parallel. Surely this is as much as you can hope for. You cannot live forever. One day soon, we must both be called to meet Osiris and be judged on what we have achieved. Be content, Ramesses, your path has been wide and long and is festooned at every step with the garlands of your glory.”
The familiar smile returned. “You have grown wise in your old age. Perhaps you are right and I overly concern myself with matters I can no longer control. When I was a young and lusty king, I beheld magnificent visions of the future, my mind was filled with building great monuments, of battles to be waged and how I would engender a powerful dynasty but now, as I hobble around in this dried up old frame, I am frustrated because I cannot foresee how Egypt’s future will enfold. Of one matter, however, I am sure. It is my belief that you will outlive me, as the gods wish you to see my remains safely locked away in that cold basalt pile awaiting me in the Theban Hills.”
“As long as you die soon.” I jested. “Getting out of bed is now a task almost equal to raising another colossus in your honour and this body grows wearier with each passing day. But I have a serious question, the asking of which must reflect on my fear of your majesty but I am long intrigued by a small and trifling matter.”
“Take care, even if the quaver in your voice comes not from fear but from infirmity. I believe I am still the pharaoh, am I not? Your question?”
“If you are a living god, why are you afflicted by such trouble with your teeth?”
He laughed heartily. “I live in eternal hope that Thoth notes your perpetual impiety. You will soon have an opportunity of asking Osiris your question in person, ancient builder. Come, we have talked too long, my mouth hurts and I must see if there are any fish left in the river for us to catch before Re’s barque sinks too low on the horizon.”
Five days later he lay dead, his great heart still and his earthly concerns extinguished at his last breath. Queen Bintanath came to my quarters to break the much dreaded but long expected news. She and Neferure, both now elderly ladies, held each other tightly and wept freely. I sat motionless, unwilling to accept that he was really gone, finally severing the bond of seventy years of intimate friendship. Recovering, I uttered my first thought. “May I see him?” I asked of Bintanath.
“Of course. Sennefer, you were his greatest friend. I will take you both to where he lies.”
As we moved through the palace to the king’s apartment, all those attached to the royal household, wept. The air chilled and the sky darkened ominously, though it was still early morning. We entered the chamber where he lay as though asleep upon his pallet but the spark of life had fled his body. What was left was a mere shrunken husk, the once tanned skin waxen yellow, his red hair dull and lifeless. I crossed to the bed, touched his still warm face and closed his sightless eyes with my fingers. Moving his arms with gentle care, I crossed them over his chest and took the royal insignia from the table beside him, placed the flail in his left hand and the crook in his right. Then, satisfied he gave the appearance of a king lying in state, I prostrated myself before him, shuddering with grief until Bintanath bade me rise. Neferure leant down and kissed her father’s lips in farewell.
Just before we made to leave the man I loved as a brother, the sound of beating wings filled the room and there arose from the bed the spectre of a mighty falcon. It hovered over the body, then took flight out over the terrace and upwards towards the sun. Heavy black clouds had raced up from the west and blackened the firmament; lightning bolts flashed across the sky and peals of thunder tore asunder the dawn silence. We looked up into the turbulent sky, seeking to follow the falcon’s path as it rose higher till it was lost from sight. The pale orb of the sun, flickering like a torch starved of fuel, shone dimly through the roiling clouds. Bintanath and Neferure joined me on the terrace, fearful and trembling.
“Fear not, the Pharaoh journeys to his true home.” I said to calm them. Behind the clouds, the sun began to blaze, creating a corona that drove the clouds away before its spreading rays. The lightning and thunder abated and the wind-swept bowl of the sky regained a brilliant clear blue. “Look, he has boarded the solar barque and sits before Amun-Re.”
The chill lifted from the palace and we stood on the terrace, bathed in the intensifying warmth of the solar disc. Still looking skywards, we stood transfixed as a golden falcon flew towards us, filling our vision and we heard again the rush of beating wings. Alighting and shimmering within a radiant aura, the bird’s gilded talons hooked onto the balustrade and the falcon spread wide its bejewelled wings. The feathered head turned towards us, its eyes studied us closely, and then the giant wings swept forward and enfolded us for a moment before releasing their embrace. The plumed head inclined forward, its brazen beak dipping in salute and then the bird took flight, soaring ever higher until it vanished into the rays of the sun. We stood motionless, overcome with awe and emotion, until the spell was broken by a hammering on the door.
“Enter” commanded the queen. The high priests from the Temples of Seth, Amun, Re and Ptah, garbed in the robes of death, entered and prostrated themselves before the king’s body. They rose and offered condolences. The priest from the Temple of Seth said “With your permission, Queen Bintanath, we come to claim the body as the process of preserving his mortal shell must commence immediately.”
“A moment”. She and Neferure moved to his body, kissed his forehead and hands and stood back. “You have my permission and I entrust him to you. Treat his remains with reverence as his ba now watches over us.”
The priest clapped his hands and eight Sem priests entered with a golden bier mounted on their shoulders. They went to the bed, placed the bier on the ground and reverently lifted the body onto the carriage, covering it with a white linen shroud. Silently, they lifted the grim burden to their shoulders, and led by the temple priests, departed the chamber.
Tidings of the king’s passing circulated through the city and spread throughout the land. The kingdom mourned. For most, Ramesses was the only ruler they had known and, in their hearts, all felt an enormous sense of loss. Merenptah, who had been at the fortress at Saite, immediately returned to Pi-Ramess and swiftly took matters into his hands. He ordered one month of mourning and every temple was instructed to offer daily prayers to the dead king until the funeral ceremonies were complete. Later in the day, messengers streamed out across the land to announce a new king had taken up the reins of power. Wisely, another series of commands put the armed forces on full alert lest our enemies seek to take advantage of the realm’s distress. Merenptah summonsed me to his quarters soon after his arrival and, after expressing my sorrow at his loss, he thanked me.
“Lord Sennefer, the moment has finally come to complete your last and most noble work. Some ninety days must pass before my father’s body is ready for the voyage to Thebes. As soon as we have assembled his funerary goods here, I would ask you travel there with the treasure ships. Upon your arrival, please give this letter to the Royal Guard commander, whom you can safely take into your confidence. It is an instruction to convey the funerary goods from the treasure ships to the tomb in the Great Place. He will arrange a detachment of Guard officers to replace the temple guards in the valley until the entombment ritual is complete for both ceremonies. You will also have at your disposal a band of highly trusted officers from the Guard here to assist you with your other tasks. They are men loyal to my father.”
“This second letter is to be handed to Bakenkhons at the temple. It permits you to open the treasury in the Ramesseum, take out the goods therein and move them to the tomb. He will provide you with more information once the treasure room is opened.” Handing me a cylinder of carved ivory, he said “You will find within, a list drawn up by my father of the goods he wished taken into the second crypt. There is an authorisation which permits you and Bakenkhons to open the tomb of Queen Nefertari, remove her coffins and place them within the hidden tomb. You are to take nothing from her tomb other than her coffins and the two chests noted on the document. A third document allows you to open a sealed room in the Ramesseum at an appropriate moment and remove its content. You must guard this cylinder with your life.”
We met in the antechamber to the throne room, the chamber Ramesses had made the very centre of his power. A visitor would need to be blind not to recognise the throne room for what it was - a chamber of adoration of Ramesses, the god. Along one wall, seated on red granite thrones were colossal statutes of Ramesses with Amun, Re and Montu. Against a second wall, stood diorite statues of Ramesses, Ptah, Sakhmet and Nefertem and the third wall was lined with enthroned images of Ramesses, Seth, Amun and Re. The fourth wall behind the throne, carved in relief, had a depiction of the pharaoh embraced by Amun. Whilst the statues are not as large as those at the Ramesseum, they certainly were not noted for their modest scale.
“I think your son’s first commission will be the construction of a new throne room as there is no possibility of my using me father’s seat of power. It has always overwhelmed me and speaks only of his authority.” I thought it best, for the moment, not to tell Merenptah of the many statutes his father had usurped from monuments all over the kingdom. At least, the colossi in the throne room were sculpted under specific commission.
“My sisters told me of the golden falcon. Just as the sky cleared over Saite, I felt the brush of wings against my cheek and a sensation of warmth flooded my body. I knew then that my father had died and the burden of kingship had passed to me with his blessings, yet I doubt if I am equal to the task.”
Now I had to deal with Merenptah the king, a man already unsure of his confidence. I remembered the younger Ramesses entering his father’s throne room in Thebes just days after his ascension. He walked to the throne and sat upon it with the ease of a man taking his seat at the dining table. He radiated self-assurance and issued decrees and commands as naturally as breathing. I thought to help Merenptah move out of his father’s shadow.
“Merenptah, I have known you man and boy, so you may take heart from what I say. Your father always spoke of his great faith in you and your abilities. He found no fault in the joint regency of the past fifteen years. Long did he train you for this moment and you will govern wisely and with strength now his mantle has passed to you. You are now the pharaoh and one with Horus.”
“Thank you. Your words encourage me. He spoke infrequently about my regency and rarely discussed the decisions I made. Did you know my father had an elder brother? Prince Siptah died well before my father ascended the throne. He spoke not of his brother and rarely of his sister, Tia, who died years ago. Many in our family believe Ramesses saw you as the brother he had lost in his childhood and there were times I was envious of your friendship, though I know it gave my father constant comfort to have you as his confidant.”
“There is one feeling I never voiced whilst he was alive but I considered him as the brother I never had. He was the only person I could turn to in times of personal distress. His solicitude and strength was given without question and in full measure.”
“You did not need to speak of it as in his heart my father felt the same of you. You must feel his passing deeply.” Before I lost my self-control on hearing this sentiment, I spoke again.
“Be not envious of our friendship. There are many things a son does not know about his father but be assured of his love and respect. As for our friendship, you must remember I knew your father many years before your birth and the first years of his reign were the days of the full flush of his glory. The friendship did not spring fully formed. It took many years of punishing labour and a good many disagreements to mature. Both of us had to make concessions to each other before we enjoyed the blessings of a deep intimacy, but note this well, he told me of your birth with tears of joy in his eyes and his sense of pride deepened as he watched you develop from childhood to manhood.”
“Merenptah, we must talk of a serious matter. Your father told me a week before he died it that was his belief I would outlive him to discharge my final duty. I fear it will also be the last act of my life, so I entrust to you the care of my wife and your sister, Neferure. Many years ago, your sister asked if she may be entombed with me and to this I happily agreed. I have arranged with my son that when my time comes, he is to attend to my funeral and entombment outside Thebes in a manner similar to Khaemwaset’s burial. Now, as the last drops drain from the water clock that is the measure of my life, I can only look forward to being re-united with Ramesses beyond the Western Horizon. With your approval, I must take my leave as we both have many tasks to perform. We shall see each other again in Thebes. Until then, I give you my hand in farewell and may our gods bless you as they did your father.”
As I drew nearer to the culminating moment of my life, I found myself filled with a strength and vigour I could not comprehend. I was older than Ramesses and, until the moment of his death, I was stooped over and in almost daily pain from the ailments assailing my body. Now I walked upright with the step of a much younger man, free of the daily misery of old age. Had the enfolding wings of the falcon wrought some miracle? I mentioned this strange transformation to Neferure as we prepared for the trip south.
She said. “I also feel I have shrugged off the lethargy of age and I experience an intense sense of peace. Bintanath asked me if I was feeling younger and stronger when she admitted to a similar sensation. My fingers are no longer stiff and twisted, we have both lost the grey from our hair and you, my dear husband, look many years younger. We believe Ramesses has invested us with new life to face our final sad duty with fortitude and tranquillity.”
“Neferure, I have sent a messenger ahead to Memphis asking my son and grandson to meet us there in case I falter in my final task.”
“Task, what task? We only have to attend the ceremonies at the temple and Ramesseum and then accompany my father’s encoffined body to his tomb. There is little else to be done and your duties as his overseer will be at an end.”
“Neferure, I am committed to complete a great and sacred mission for your father in Thebes but until my work is complete, I cannot divulge the details. Do not demand any information about this responsibility as the matter is subject to an oath I swore to your father years ago. However, I must tell you it is doubtful I will ever return to Pi-Ramess or even leave Thebes. The duty I must fulfil in the Great Place may be my last act in this world. My time draws near and I wish to make the most of the next few months together with you.”
Embracing me she replied “My darling husband, you have given me many years of great joy since we met on the terrace in Memphis and I have treasured each day. When I married you, it was my belief, as you were then of a mature age, that we would only have a few years of happiness before you passed to the Second Life. It has been my good fortune the deities granted you great longevity and my cup of fulfilment overflows. Come, let us continue packing lest I find my eyes moist with emotion.” She kissed me, rested her head against my chest and I felt the wetness of tears through my garment.
We found Memphis a city in deep mourning. The air was filled with the perfume of incense burning before the temple shrines and the sonorous chanting of priests professing their devotion to the dead king. A messenger soon found Rekhmire and my grandson, Pashedu, who responded that they would be ready to embark early next morning. I told Neferure there was a private matter I needed to attend to before we left. I located a chariot, drove through the city and climbed high up into the Libyan Hills.
Reaching Khaemwaset’s resting place on its lonely promontory, I dismounted and sat near where he lay. I spoke to him of my grief, tears falling from my eyes when I looked to the south where my destiny awaited me, unable to determine if the tears were those of happiness or misery. I peered at the western horizon in a futile attempt to see the future and spied, flying towards me, the golden falcon, its radiant wings pulsing in graceful flight. The great bird alighted at the edge of the promontory and its golden eyes looked at me keenly as if distressed by my suffering. The falcon inclined its feathered head towards me, spread its wings, rose and flew westward again.
A sensation of calmness descended upon me. I bade Khaemwaset a final farewell and returned to the city in a state of peace. Neferure had been disquieted by my demeanour before I left but, after telling her of my pilgrimage to her brother’s tomb and the third appearance of the gilded falcon, she was re-assured in the knowledge her father was offering comfort to her suffering spouse.
We voyaged ever southward towards Thebes. Great sadness attended the city as this had been Ramesses’ spiritual home. Clouds of incense floated over the temples, no gay pennants flew now and people went about their business in sombre mood as the city prepared itself for the final act in the life of their beloved pharaoh.
After settling Neferure in the palace, Rekhmire and I took passage over the river and attended the office of the high priest, Bakenkhons. He was making offerings to Amun-Re deep within the shrine room when we arrived so I used the moment to revisit the works of Ramesses in the Amun Temple. My hands ran over stonework we had conceived and built together, my fingers followed carved inscriptions he had approved in his early vainglorious days and my eyes swept upwards to the decorations covering the walls.
“Father, the temple must make you very proud. I doubt if I can create designs and decorations of such magnitude or quality. What you built here is exceptional and an inspiration to any who claim to be builders.” Rekhmire said, spreading his arms out towards the pylons, pillars and statuary.
“My son, you do not lack for talent or skill. I was able to achieve all this only because my inspiration came from the pharaoh. It was the touch of his greatness that permitted the full flowering of the meagre talents bestowed upon me by Thoth and nothing more. We communicated in so many unspoken ways about his dreams and desires and he was always amused about my ability to translate his simple drawings into reality. Rekhmire, you will soon inherit my title. I have spoken with Merenptah of this matter and he has willingly given his approval to my request that you be elevated to Royal Overseer of Works. Serve him honourably as he may yet surprise you. He carries within his blood many of his father’s gifts but only the gods can determine his fate and his ability to build with the vision of Ramesses.”
Bakenkhons found us in the pillared hall. Our greetings were warm though overlaid with the sadness we suffered. We retired to his office, where he closed the door and broke open the seals on the ivory cylinder and read the contents in silence. He went to a small chest, opened its lid and extracted a key, which he handed to me.
“You will find two rooms behind the treasury door that opens with this key. The first holds goods Ramesses wished placed in the known tomb. The contents of the other room must be moved in secrecy to the hidden crypt. Just before the king’s body arrives in Thebes, we will open Nefertari’s tomb and remove her coffins with the two chests and transport them to the basalt crypt. I will assign priests to you for these tasks, men who can be trusted to keep their silence. I believe it wise to undertake the movement of the queen’s remains under the veil of darkness, lest we draw too much attention from the curious. The Guards officers will assist you with the placing of funerary goods within the tombs. The second room in the treasury holds three heavy cedar boxes. You know what I refer to. For these you will need strong arms to lower them into the tomb and place them in their rightful place. When King Merenptah arrives, we can discuss the third matter. Now I must return to the shrine as I am sure you have much to do. Go with the blessings of Amun.”
We had four weeks before the arrival of the funeral barque. The king’s tombs had to be opened, cleaned and the temporary wall I caused to be built in the well shaft decades ago, dismantled to permit the placement of funerary possessions within the second tomb. I had given much thought to the matter of secrecy as certain steps required employing heavy labour and the last act would be conducted openly in full daylight. Speed, and another ruse, would deepen the veil of deceit and, if the Guard officers and priests were equal to the task, then I would not need any assistance from those in whom I did not have complete trust.
Rekhmire, his son, Pashedu, and I went to the valley with the Sem priest to open the tomb and inspect it as I had not seen the interior for many years. The priest cut the cords bearing the high priest’s seals and Rekhmire swung the doors open. We lit torches and entered the dark corridors. I paused at the planks over the well shaft and peered down, noticed nothing remiss and proceeded downwards through the pillared hall and antechambers to the burial crypt and storerooms. The interiors were undamaged and remarkably free of dust and sand. One of the doors sagged on its hinges but this was a minor matter and easily repaired.
The Sem priest and Pashedu, who had never been inside a royal tomb before, were amazed by the beauty and complexity of the wall decorations. Drawing heavily on the Books of the Dead, Ramesses, Nebwenenef and I had chosen the most beautiful representations of the stages of the pharaoh’s journey to the Second Life and the king had taken great delight in following the creation of these decorations whenever he inspected the tomb. Now I can look back with some humour, but during that time he kept scribes, artists and painters in a state of constant terror lest they make some mistake whilst they worked on the carved inscriptions and painted images. The king would arrive, armed with his own copies of The Guides of the Netherworld, gather the decorators together and go over every section of new work. Rarely did he find a mistake but all involved in the commission were relieved to see him climb back into his chariot and depart the valley. Fortuitously, the inscriptions in the basalt vault were much less onerous in their detail and what few deemed necessary, Nebamun personally carved.
Dismissing the priest at the well shaft on our ascent, we pulled up the covering planks and I climbed down a ladder left in place and peered closely at the walls. Satisfied, we left the tomb, I directed the priest to close the gates, telling him we wished to linger awhile. As he departed, I made great show of pointing out various tombs to Rekhmire and Pashedu which gave us an excuse to clamber up the hillside over Ramesses’s tomb. Taking measuring instruments from my robe, I sighted three objects in the valley and casually walked to a particular point on the hill’s crest.
“Just under my feet lies the mouth of the tunnel leading to the second tomb.” Years of sand and small rock falls had obscured the tunnel opening which was closed by a timber trapdoor. Pointing to a deep, split cleft in the escarpment, I instructed “You take a sighting from the cleft in the west and a second over there to the south,” indicating the entrance to the mausoleum contained the king’s children, “and a third bearing from the doors of Seti’s tomb which can just be seen from where we stand.” Turning to my son, I said quietly,
“Should I fail before the burial, you know what to do? Are any matters unclear in your mind?”
“Father, you will not fail. From what you have told me of the falcon, Ramesses’s spirit watches over you very closely.” We returned to Thebes late in the afternoon, too late to open the treasure rooms but early enough to assemble my family for dinner. My grandson was eager to learn more about Ramesses, whom he never met and Neferure and I spent the evening regaling our family with stories about the pharaoh and his life.
I had asked Rekhmire to bring his son to my quarters early the next morning.
“Pashedu, like your father, you are an architect in the service of the king. My position as royal architect will soon pass to your father and if you prove worthy, you may yourself inherit the title. It is a position of great responsibility and even greater trust. If you capture a king’s trust you may work directly for him as I did with Ramesses but be warned. The king’s overseer hears many confidences, knows many secrets and the role requires your ability to manage what you see and hear in equal measure to your skills as a builder. Yes, there is wealth, power and even fame but these are secondary matters and must never be allowed to cloud your judgement. Today, I chose to invite you into the world of royal secrets, a world I and your father have lived in for many years.”
I paused to gauge his reaction. “You will see unfolded in the next few weeks a sight none have seen before and part of what you learn may benefit you, or more correctly, the ruler you have the honour to serve. If the deities favour you and Merenptah’s successors, you may come to savour the intimacy I shared with Ramesses and the fruits of such intimacy are worth more than all the wealth and power I now hold. Are you ready to accept the heavy burden of responsibility that comes with being a king’s close confidant? Note, however, that responsibility may come with great danger and grave risk.”
Pashedu looked first at his father and then at me. “Grandfather, wherever I travel you are spoken of as a great man and my colleagues believe you were anointed by Thoth himself. It is for you to choose. Though I am ready to accept the burdens you entail, your heart must guide you in your decision.”
I stood, as did his father and I extended my hand. “Your father has taught you well. You can join us in our venture but pledge your silence to us both now.” We all shook hands and I felt the pride of knowing another generation of my family would strive to engender the trust of a pharaoh. If Thoth saw merit in my grandson, he would bring him close to the bosom of another king.
As the palace was part of the great mortuary compound, we did not need to venture far to reach the treasure rooms. I showed the guards my letter of authority and they stood aside whilst I disengaged the copper mechanism that locked the heavy timber doors. We entered, then Pashedu closed the doors behind us. I parted a curtain shielding the contents from the eyes of the curious. The room blazed with gold, the brilliance of gems and coloured faience work. I had not been inside the treasury chamber for three decades and I knew Ramesses had periodically augmented the contents so even I was dazzled at the richness spread out before us. For Rekhmire and Pashedu, this massing of riches was beyond their comprehension and far surpassed the wealth on display in royal palaces.
Dominating the whole collection were three coffins resting on sturdy timber frames. The smallest was of solid gold worked to resemble the enswathed body of the king and deeply engraved in semblance of a falcon’s plumage. Beside it, a mask of beaten gold with the facial details perfectly formed. A nemes cloth inlaid with carnelian, quartz, coloured glass and lapis-lazuli surmounted with the vulture and cobra heads framed the youthful face forever frozen in gleaming metal. The outer coffins were fashioned in thickly gilded wood with rich and carefully wrought decorations. All portrayed the king in mummiform outline, his arms crossed, holding the royal insignia and the false beard affixed to his chin.
Banked against a wall stood the panels of the gilded shrines that would be mounted over the granite sarcophagus and the smaller shrine housing for the viscera chest containing the king’s entrails. Arrayed around the room was a fabulous suite of furniture including a throne of rare wood covered with thinly beaten sheet gold and inlaid with precious stones, glass and faience. Chests of various sizes were neatly stacked, no doubt filled with jewellery, clothing, royal insignia, foodstuffs and ornaments. I countered thirty six painted and gilded statues of the king, deities and animals - lions, antelopes, hippopotami, bulls, cows, crocodiles and birds. Two heavy double beds mounted on carved alabaster leopards, model barques, chariots, tables, stools, chairs, bows, spears, couches and statuettes constituted only part of the impressive display of imperial wealth.
The contents of the second room were more austere. The room was packed with plain wooden crates and chests secured with ropes and the seals of Bakenkhons. Written on each chest were simple descriptions of the contents - shawabty, weapons, wine, vases, chariot parts, various types of foodstuffs and even toys. Rekhmire and Pashedu looked around and appeared unimpressed by the drab collection of unadorned crates and apparently pedestrian items. “A moment! In life, not all you see is what it appears to be.” I produced a knife and cut the ropes binding one of the larger crates marked chariot parts.
“You are stronger than us, Pashedu. You might lift the lid of the box so we may see the chariot parts therein as an immortal king has many idle whims to satisfy.” He went to the box and, with some effort, threw open the chest and fell back in amazement. Nestled within the straw was another golden coffin. Innocently,I said there must be some mistake. “Please open this chest” indicating one labelled cooking pans. I gave the knife to Pashedu who opened the small chest which was replete with beautifully crafted jewelled pectorals and necklaces. I looked at them both and laughed.
“My children, the content of these crates form part of a great deception. They are what will go into the second tomb. I think it is time I explained to you both the full nature of this trickery. Pashedu, I caution you as what you now hear and see is a secret you must take to your grave. No other, not your wife or children, must know of this aspect of Ramesses’s burial and you will deny all knowledge of this affair no matter who questions you, including a pharaoh or the high priests who succeed Merenptah and Bakenkhons. Your father knows some of the story I am about to unfold and only Merenptah and Bakenkhons are left who know the details of the charade. Sit a while and let me tell you of the deception the king and I planned so many years ago.” We sat for several hours amidst pharaoh’s wealth. When I finished my story, Padeshu’s eyes glistened with emotion.
“The king planned so many years ago to move the body of his first wife to the second crypt. That is surely a sign of very deep affection. I had not considered such a matter the natural act of a king.”
“Grandson, kings are still humans and experience the same range of feelings as you and I. You must never forget, your ability to work with the emotional responses of a ruler will determine the degree of your success as overseer. Now you are party to a secret greater than any in the history of our kingdom. What you and your father do to assist me in the next weeks will permit you the honour of participating in the closing episode in the life of a god on earth. There was no greater privilege than for me to have served this man as his architect, builder, friend, advisor and finally protector of his mortal remains. We have much to do, let us be about our work and remember the falcon watches us.”
Our immediate task was to dismantle the temporary wall in the well shaft separating the first and hidden tomb thus permitting the delivery of the contents of the second treasure room into the rear chambers in the basalt tomb. When that was finished, we laid a solid walkway of planks over the well shaft, thus hiding the now open wall from view. Then, the contents of the first treasure room were transferred to the first tomb, leaving only the coffins and viscera chest behind. After the arrival of the fleet carrying the first contingent of royal family members and the lesser nobility from Pi-Ramess, more artefacts were disgorged and added to the wealth destined for the king’s tomb. Day after day, sleds burdened with funerary goods left the Ramesseum under heavy guard and travelled up the roadway into the Theban Hills and down into the Great Place. Following the king’s instructions, priests arranged the possessions in the storerooms and shrine chambers where they were blessed as sacred goods necessary to sustain the king in his next life.
Came the day when the flotilla arrived bearing the body of Ramesses. I stood with the other nobles waiting silently on the eastern quay. Too many times in my life had I stood on the same quay watching the arrival of a barque carrying the body of a member of the royal household. His beloved Queen Nefertari, several royal wives and too many sons and daughters had all made the mournful voyage to Thebes, the way station to the sacred valleys. The doleful beating of drums roused me from my memories as the first barque appeared on the horizon. In the van, a warship carried the new king, Merenptah, closely followed by Ramesses’s great ship, familiar with its blood red sails and gilded woodwork. In its wake followed more vessels carrying princes and princesses, foreign ambassadors, merchants, noblemen and their wives from the cities to the north.
The new king alighted and we bowed low, then stood back as the funeral barque made its mooring. Raised up on a gilded plinth lay a plain black rectangular coffin with the gold filled cartouche of Ramesses engraved on each side. Pallbearers from the temple boarded the vessel, lifted the chest high onto their shoulders, made their way down the gangway and placed the coffin under a pavilion,waiting until the other vessels discharged the mourners. At a sign from the king, the priests lifted their burden again and moved, in solemn procession, towards the temple followed by the dignitaries and a sorrowing multitude of Thebans.
As the cortege made its way through the silent throng lining the avenue to the temple, I experienced a feeling of unreality. Futile thoughts assailed me; that is not my friend inside the coffin, he has not left me and I followed the body of a stranger. I stumbled, Rekhmire and Neferure moved to steady me. Blindly, I let myself be led into the temple courtyard as the coffin was carried into the shrine hall away from our sight. His body would lay in communion with the deities for five days before being moved to the mortuary temple across the river, another step closer to eternity.
I busied myself with practical matters. Several thousand tonnes of sand had to be delivered to a site near the mouth of the Great Place, a task I assigned to Rekhmire as there was a matter of delicacy and timing to organise with Bakenkhons. Pharaoh Seti had died seventy years ago and, though the temple archives provided some guidance, no priest alive knew the exact ritual to follow upon the death of a king and this uncertainty worked in our favour. Bakenkhons would arrange the ceremony to suit our secret purpose, without causing offence or disquiet.
“Sennefer, it is possible you are the only man alive who knew King Seti, though you would not have attended the most intimate part of his funeral service. I have studied the scrolls to determine the rituals attending the funeral of a king and they indicate his body should be sealed into his coffins here in Karnak before the ceremony at the mortuary temple. It will be of assistance to us if only the inner coffin is closed but not sealed before the service. I break with another tradition instructing that once the service is concluded at the mortuary temple, the cortege moves directly to the Great Place. As Ramesses was divine, I believe it is fitting he should lie in state for one evening in the company of the gods who reside within his great monument before moving westward in the rays of the morning light. None will question my judgement in these matters. You have chosen the men to assist you in the final hours?”
“Yes. The king, Princes Amenhotep and Hori, Rekhmire, my grandson and I begin our task a few hours after the ascent of the moon. Your priests must absent themselves from the place of state and the valley.”
“I have already issued the instruction. It is known we will stand vigil besides the king’s coffin during the last night. The doors to the room where the catafalque stands will be closed at sunset. None will enter until I command the opening of the doors in the morning. The temple guards have been replaced by officers of the Royal Guard chosen by Merenptah for their loyalty to his father.”
“Then, I believe we are ready though I admit to still being uncomfortable with this deception, Bakenkhons.”
“Lord Sennefer, we seek to deceive the wicked and no harm will be done tomorrow night. If I thought there was an act of sacrilege involved I would have advised you of this well before now. Ramesses sanctioned our actions and I assure you there is no act of disrespect to him or to the deities and every religious ritual necessary to assist the king on his voyage will be observed. Clear your mind of any discomfort or guilt as this last task is the greatest honour any man could undertake for his master.”
“Let me tell you a story. I knew Ramesses principally as a man of religion. You built for him and I ministered to his soul or rather I thought it my responsibility when I became high priest. When Nebwenenef held this position, I was briefly attached to the temple here. One of my duties was to assist him during the principal festivals and serve Ramesses when he made observances at the shrines. Apparently, Seti was almost perfunctory in his observance. He would go to the shrine room, stay a short while and then leave. However, his son was scrupulous in the observation of his devotions. Ramesses would purify himself in the sacred pool, change into clean garments and sit quietly in reflection for many moments before he entered the shrine room. Nebwenenef was early of the opinion that Ramesses was a god and, when he first voiced this opinion, I must have appeared incredulous so he instructed I be present the next time the king came to the temple when he would show me something to evidence his belief.”
“Few are permitted into a shrine room once it has been consecrated. Entry is restricted to the king, high priest and the sem priest who cleanses the shrine. Not even the heir can humble himself before Amun, Re or Khonsu. Construction had begun on the Ramesseum, his tomb and the temples. You remember him then? Vital, alive, running from this building site to the next, full of ideas. He almost drove our archivist to madness with his demands for scrolls and texts. Nebwenenef and I were eating lunch one afternoon when he burst into our room and said he needed to make an offering to Amun then and now. Hurriedly, we changed into our ceremonial robes as the king bathed and donned a pure white kilt, nothing else, just a kilt, no head cloth and no sandals.”
“The shrine rooms are almost at the end of the temple. You have seen where they lie. The rooms before it get progressively smaller and darker until oil lamps are needed to illuminate the passage to the principal shrine. Just outside the sanctum there are two stone benches,one for the king, the other for the high priest. They are called the Seats of Tranquillity, for there a king and priest must dismiss all thoughts of the ephemeral world and its concerns before approaching the god. I was then only an sem priest and as no seat was provided for one of that rank, I was obliged to stand whilst the king made his devotionals. Ramesses sat, composed himself and entered the shrine room alone. We heard the king offering up devotional prayers. A few oil lamps flickered but the area was in almost total darkness when Nebwenenef called my attention to the shrine room from where a yellowish glow emanated. Watching the portal intently, we observed the glow turned golden until brilliant light flooded the chamber and two voices could be heard. The king’s and a voice I did not recognise speaking in a language I could not comprehend. The high priest indicated I should very carefully look into the shrine room. Stealing up to the doorway, I looked in and saw the king with both hands clasped on the statue of Amun. The statue is human in form and size but has the head of a ram with the solar disc fixed between its twin horns. The hair stood up on my neck. The solar disc was blazing with light mirrored by a golden luminescence coming from the king’s body. One glimpse was enough and I stepped back very quickly. After some time, the king left the room and the temple without saying a word to us. My friend, I have witnessed this phenomenon on four occasions and I have no doubt tomorrow we bid farewell to the earthly manifestation a living god.”
“I never saw the radiance though many were the times he created an aura I could not apprehend. When it occurred, I thought it was just the supreme confidence of a strong king but, from what you now disclose, there can never be an issue of his divinity in my mind.” I told him of the golden falcon. “You are singularly blessed, Sennefer. Ramesses loved you before all men and the appearance of the falcon is evidence his love extends beyond the grave.”
“I feel his loss almost beyond words, Bakenkhons, and a part of me has also died. However, I must now take my leave. There is much to attend to before we meet again tomorrow at the mortuary temple.”
The penultimate day dawned. By mid-morning, Thebes was almost deserted as all who could cross the river had made an early passage. As the solar barque reached its zenith, the coffin was placed on an ebony sled and hauled by priests to the quay, lifted onto the funeral barque and slowly rowed across the river to where the royal family and nobility waited. One hundred priests lifted ropes of woven golden thread to their shoulders and drew the sled to the mortuary temple. The two colossi loomed over the procession, their granite eyes coldly surveying the swaying ranks of priests as they passed through the great pylon,crossed the first courtyard, moved up the staircase into the second courtyard and then entered the darkened forest of pillars in the great hall until finally placing the catafalque and its coffin before the sanctuary of the deities.
Neferure and I were only permitted to wait in the Hall of the Litanies whilst the king was glorified and venerated. Burning incense perfumed the air, sistrums tinkled and the music of harps reached our ears from within the sanctuary. We heard priests chanting and, periodically, the high priest making offertories. Then the coffin on its carriage was lifted high, carried back through the temple and placed on the terrace fronting the first pylon so the people could farewell their late monarch. All wept and fell to their knees. Merenptah, resplendent in pharaonic apparel and carrying the insignia of office, came to the side of the coffin, dropped to his knees and offered a silent prayer. He rose and turned towards those gathered in homage, raising the crook and flail above his head in a gesture to re-assure the people the mantle of authority had passed to a new king.
His public devotions finished, Merenptah re-entered the temple behind priests bearing their precious burden. Shouts of alarm rose from the crowded outer courtyard. The sun was now low in the western sky and long shadows from the Theban Hills crept across the plains towards the Ramesseum. Cries broke from the crowd. “Look, look at the sun.” and “Look to the west.”
The golden orb appeared swollen and encircled by a brilliant white corona. Long fiery flares arced out from its circumference. “The solar barque is burning.” said a man next to me. The sound of the commotion reached the inner temple and the king re-appeared with the high priest. A press of royalty and nobility surged onto the terrace from between the pylon. Panic festered, many had fallen prostrate to the ground and others looked ready to flee. Merenptah, in a voice straight from the parade ground, spoke with reassuring authority.
“My people, calm yourselves and rejoice. There is no need of fear. My father, Divine Ramesses, sends us a sign he is now as one with Amun-Re. Exult at his homecoming and fill your hearts with prayers to the gods. Feel the warmth of their splendour as the king takes his rightful place on the oar benches of the solar barque.”
Seizing the moment, he turned towards the flaming orb, raised the flail and crook up to the rays of the sun and stood bathed in the brilliance of the great white light, his jewelled collar and pectoral gleaming. I thought his gift of oratory lacked somewhat but he had learnt from his father how to create a dramatic presence when an opportunity suddenly arose. His subjects, calmed by his proclamation, moved as one to face the western horizon, heads raised up in adoration, arms outstretched in imitation of the king’s gesture. Slowly the corona melted away, the flares flickered and died and the orb resumed its usual appearance.
Merenptah lowered his arms and then crossed them in regal pose upon his chest. He turned and walked, with slow dignity, back inside the temple. The mourners, realising the crisis had ended, begun to disperse. It would be many hours before they had all crossed the river and retired for the night. “We should also go back to the palace.” I said to Neferure. “I am bereft of feeling, sick at heart and in need of some sleep before this night’s long work. Please take me home.”
Merenptah, Prince Hori and Bakenkhons commenced their vigil just after the rising of the moon. Under the veil of darkness, Rekhmire, Padeshu and I returned to the mortuary temple and slipped into the treasury rooms which were to the side and just in front of the sanctuary. Once certain the temple was empty save for the Guard officers, Hori opened the treasury door and helped us lift a long cedar box labelled ‘tools’ and carry it across to the sanctuary. The box was placed beside the still unsealed coffin of the king. Until that moment I had not laid eyes on the linen bound remains of Ramesses and I momentarily faltered when compelled to look down upon his funeral mask.
Rekhmire and his son had opened the cedar box to reveal an identically enfolded body, though devoid of a face mask and jewellery. The inscriptions and cartouche on the bandaging were an exact copy of those on Ramesses windings. Hori and Bakenkhons lifted the body from the wooden box and placed it on the ground. Then we surrounded Ramesses’s coffin and lifted his remains out and placed them in the cedar box, taking off the mask and stripped him of his ornamentation which Merenptah then arranged on the second shrouded figure before it was placed in the king’s coffin. By now, I and the others were perspiring freely due to the gravity of handling the king’s remains. This was a grim business and I noted every man was stone faced. Rekhmire fastened the lid back on the cedar box. Merenptah asked “Are we ready? Sennefer, you do not have to take your share of this burden. It is enough you are here with him.”
“Master, I will see this to the end and carrying my portion of his weight is not a trial.”
At the king’s signal, Hori and Rekhmire slid the carrying poles through the lugs on the box and we lifted it from the ground. How light it was. Bakenkhons tapped on the sanctuary door which was opened by the Commander of the Royal Guard. Silently, we made our way through the pillared hall and left the mortuary temple by a side entrance. The Commander opened one of the external gates just in front of the Temple of Tuy and Nefertari, where we met a contingent of Guard officers.
Our party, twenty in number, began the long march to the Great Place. Our path was well lit by moonlight and there was no need of torches. The cortege ascended into the hills and then down into the valley, pausing periodically to relieve each other of the burden. The Great Place was a patchwork of intense darkness relieved by stretches of moonlit ground. On reaching the tomb, the cedar doors were swung open, torches lit and we descended the corridor until attaining the well shaft. My son supervised the removal of the planks covering the shaft, ropes were produced and the box carefully lowered to its floor.
Once inside the crypt, we carried the box to the side of the great basalt block against which were two ladders. Reverently, the shrouded body was taken out of its wooden housing and lifted up to the platform on which sat the double basalt sarcophagus. I issued instructions.
“Open those four cedar crates and remove their contents. That one first.” I indicated with my hand. The box contained the largest of the gilded coffins. This was lifted into the sarcophagus and placed next to the coffin of Queen Nefertari, which had been moved the night before. “Then the next box.” This opened to reveal a slightly smaller coffin inlaid with gold and faience. It was lowered into the first coffin. “Now the final crate. Take care, as you will find the contents very heavy.”
The officers placed ropes under the solid gold coffin concealed in the third long chest. Struggling under their fabulous burden, they lifted it out and then up onto the platform. They climbed up and lowered it, with great effort, into the nest of coffins within the sarcophagus. Bakenkhons withdrew, from the fourth box, an exquisite golden face mask, necklaces and pectorals which he handed to Merenptah who arranged them on his father’s body, tears streaming from his eyes. When satisfied with the arrangement of the ornamentation, he and Prince Hori lifted the body and placed Ramesses within the golden coffin.
Bakenkhons took four alabaster viscera vases from the coffin that had borne Ramesses to his tomb. These he handed to Merenptah who placed them into a partitioned recess set into the platform. Bakenkhons scaled a ladder and stood beside Merenptah. He produced from his robe an instrument, the one used to symbolically open the king’s mouth and re-unite the body with its spiritual elements. This he handed to the king. He asked him to read from a scroll he took from his robe and Merenptah intoned
The spirit for whom I do this will never perish
He will exist in the glory of the god
Nothing evil can befall him
He will exist as a spirit in the west with all his faculties
He will not die again
He will eat and drink with Osiris
He will drink water from the drinking place at the river
He will be alive and exist as a god
He will be worshipped by the living as Re
In a final act, the high priest handed Merenptah a flask of cedar and juniper oils which he poured over the body. “Men, it is time to say our farewell. The moment has come to seal Ramesses into his House of Eternity.”
Now the moment had come to bid my friend of seventy years farewell I was strangely calm. Around me, many men wept as the coffin lids were brought to the platform. I bent down and touched the mask and a thought passed through my mind that we would soon meet again. Then the lids were placed on the three coffins and locked in place with silver pins. Bakenkhons recited a final prayer. I had one final instruction. At the foot of the sarcophagus, there was a table with the polished basalt lid resting on its top. I took four copper pins from my robe, handed one each to the king, Hori and Bakenkhons, retaining one for myself.
“We must push the basalt lid into the recess in the sarcophagus until it is almost home. Then stop when I tell you.” The officers, all strong men, pushed the lid from the side and it slid into place and I offered a silent prayer of thanks to Nebamun and his masons. Just before the final push, I showed my companions how to position the pins under the edge of the lid. I could not hear the pins drop into place though I am sure Thoth guided them into the locking holes.
Soundlessly, the men moved the table and empty cedar boxes into the last storeroom at the far end of the corridor and cleared the floor of debris. It was time. I handed a copper hammer to the king and bade him follow me into the corridor off which lay the treasure rooms. In the light of our torches every room gleamed with riches. I pointed to a series of clay pots projecting from the walls on both sides. “Strike each one hard and be sure they are smashed.”
He swung the hammer down on the first pot. It shattered and sand flowed out of a hole in the wall. Slowly, the first basalt door slid down and settled into place, closing the room. He struck one pot after another until all were broken and more doors descended, sealing each chamber. At the end of the corridor he stopped. I pointed to two more pots and he struck again, releasing a heavy portcullis which sealed the corridor with a resounding thud. Back in the burial chamber, I took a long copper rod and handed it to him.
“You must place it within this hole and then strike as though you were spearing a hippopotamus. That blow will start the process that locks your father and Nefertari into the block.”
“Sennefer, I have thought on this moment since you first revealed the story of this crypt. You are the Royal Architect and your work remains unfinished. By my command, finish your work now.” He thrust the rod into my hands. I took a deep breath, inserted it into the aperture, stabbed hard and felt the clay pot break under the impact.
I stood back, listening and watching. Like the solar barque making its descent below the horizon, the sarcophagus slowly sank into the block then stopped, its lid flush with the platform’s top. Next, the pillars supporting the first massive overhead block started to descend onto the base. Under our feet, sand was pouring out into the drainage tunnels. I heard the ends of the pillars breaking more pots as they continued their descent. The upper block settled onto the platform. As I watched, I recalled the childish and prideful games I had played with Pharaoh many years ago in Pi-Ramess, the two small sarcophagi and his attempt to break them, the sand running through his fingers and my drawings, now long consigned to the fire. Tears sprang to my eyes.
Those in the tomb stood mesmerised as another set of pillars began to sink into the block and the first rectangular curtain of basalt plates began its descent. I remembered the magic Khaemwaset had used to impress the workmen at Giza and I permitted myself a smile at the thought of what a little magic could achieve. My son looked at me and nodded in approval as a third set of pots were crushed deep below us and another set of pillars began to sink. As the second curtain completed its fall, we heard the final set of pots being smashed underfoot and the last basalt curtain settled onto the block, its serrated edges uniting with the locking plates that hedged the perimeter of the lower section.
I picked up four long bronze rods and inserted them in holes cut into the side of the block at an angle. Where placed, they would further inhibit any from lifting the upper sections of the basalt shroud. Into each hole, I tapped in a basalt plug thus hiding evidence of another layer of protection.
“It is finished.” I said. Ramesses and Nefertari were now entombed within a basalt bastion, their bodies forever locked within a fortress. In two days time, I would return to move the limestone block into its place in the well shaft and Rekhmire could see to the pouring of sand into the burial chamber and treasury corridor. Then my work as Ramesses’ builder would be at an end. I could not attend the burial ceremonies tomorrow of the man who now lay in the king’s golden coffins at the mortuary temple. That would be one charade too many.
Merenptah broke our silence “Let us now leave. He is gone, safe in the embrace of Osiris but his memory will last an eternity. We must return to Thebes before Re’s barque appears in the east.” We left the tomb and, during the walk back to the temple, the king thanked each of the officers and shared reminiscences with them about his father. All could be relied upon to keep as secret what they had seen this night. As we neared the temple he came to my side. “You did me a great honour tonight, Master.”
“No, Sennefer, you have spent your entire life honouring my father as his builder and friend. It was only fitting you should strike the blow to complete your work.” He smiled in the darkness, the same smile that had come so readily to his father’s face. “Of course, if your great device had failed, I could place the blame on your shoulders.”
I laughed for the first time in many days. “Your father taught you well. What of the plans I gave to your father?”
“I burnt them just after his death. Your son knew how the device worked and I may avail myself of the same knowledge for my own tomb. What I have just witnessed was more spectacular than the shipping and mounting of the colossi at the Ramesseum. You are indeed a gifted man.”
“My gift comes from the gods. A question: who now lies within your father’s temple awaiting a grand tomb?”
“For many years, my father’s agents scoured the kingdom looking for a man who resembled him. Naturally, the man would have to be of a similar age and appearance but he also needed reddish hair, the one factor which saved many men from a premature death. Ten years ago, such a man was found, perhaps ironically at Sile in the Eastern Delta. A careful check into his forebears assured Ramesses the man was not related. He was a mere leather worker at a small family tannery just outside the town. His wife was dead and his children, not wanting to follow in their father’s trade, had left the Delta and moved to Memphis. After his death, notice was sent by the tannery manager to his children who wrote back advising that their father could be buried in the desert sands as far as they were concerned. Obviously some disharmony existed within his family.”
“It was fortunate you found a man with a close resemblance who died so conveniently.”
“Perhaps his death was timely. Prince Setpentre, who commanded the fortress, invited the tanner to a small banquet. It seems he died soon after eating the meal. Perhaps, royal food proved to be too rich for his palate. His body was taken to Pi-Ramess, preserved most expensively and returned to the palace where the king, by his own hand, wrote the inscriptions on the funeral linen before sending the body to the treasure rooms at Thebes.”
“Now let me tell you more. Long before he died, my father issued further instructions about this matter of deception. Today we looked upon a man in an outer gilded coffin. Beside him lies the solid gold inner and second coffin, which is of richly gilded and inlaid cedar wood. In a few hours, mourners will see only the sealed outer coffin which will be given weight by the addition of viscera jars lest the priests, who will take the coffins to the tomb, become suspicious. The two inner coffins were placed in the treasury rooms tonight for my use when I come to my own entombment. My father was convinced his tomb would be despoiled at some time in the future and was determined the robbers would find little of value. The funerary goods you saw in the first treasury chamber were replaced by some ordinary gilded goods, a few chests of cheap jewellery, cases and pottery vessels filled with wheat, some wine and much old furniture collected from all the royal palaces. This collection now resides in the storerooms of my father’s formal tomb.
“Bakenkhons knows of this?” I asked, somewhat amazed.
“Yes, he was party to the discussions about this matter several years ago. It was his suggestion we weight the coffin with the jars. Should my father’s tomb be broken into the thieves are in for a rude surprise. There is just enough to satisfy their appetite and lead them to believe they have all my father’s funeral possessions.”
I laughed. “A game within a game.”
“Yes. One great legacy of your work was your educating us about the robberies of the dead. You opened our eyes to the theft from monuments and tombs. I remember my father saying it would be cheaper to strew the wealth, accompanying rulers to their tombs, across the desert for Libyans to collect as they herd their cattle. The method you chose to protect my father and his possessions was, in our opinion, an inspiration from the gods. So strongly did my father hold this belief, he has made me swear that I will not reveal anything of our methods to my sons lest everything you have done be defeated. He said to me only last year ‘Let your sons find their own gifted builder. Sennefer was sent to me by the deities and he carries the special blessing of Thoth.’”
“I do not know if I necessarily believe that. Throughout my life, I drew inspiration from your father and many were the times we thought as one about a particular project. I chose to believe his divinity cast a brilliant light on my life and allowed me to best use the simple talents Khnum mixed together when he fashioned me on his wheel.”
“Well spoken. Now, there are some matters before we reach the temple. I know not of your own arrangements for your tomb other than that your son will supervise your interment. This is fitting and proper. I have asked Rekhmire to inform me of your passing so I may have the honour of being present at your funeral. I was commanded by my father to tell you the rituals may be celebrated within his mortuary temple, should you so chose. He further commanded one quarter of the goods you saw in the first treasury room be given to you as a gift to take with you to the Second Life. Under instructions from her father, Neferure is to include much jewellery as he was sure she and Ipi may want for some finery.”
“It is a high honour you would wish to be with me in my final moments and I can think of no better place to hold the service than in the building that meant so much to both your father and myself but I cannot accept the gift. It is too generous.” I protested.
Smiling again, he said “My father warned me of your tendency to disregard certain aspects of the authority of the crown. You cannot refuse my father’s command now re-affirmed by me. Even you will find it difficult to refuse a command from two kings. He said he could not dine at your celestial abode unless it was well appointed and the shades of your wives as well adorned as his wives. He also made a point of stressing both fishing and hunting equipment was to be within your treasure house. Please, Sennefer, I beg you accept these gifts from two men who are eternally grateful for your devotion. See this as another small reward for the years of service to the king. I must sternly warn that if you do not, you will suffer his ill favour for an eternity and that is a fate I cannot allow you to inflict upon yourself.”
“Let it be as you both command. I just hope he always catches the bigger fish and kills the stronger lion.”
It was good we could make light of death. Merenptah was not a young man himself when Ramesses died and his thoughts must have turned to his own passage to the solar barque. We slipped back into the temple and went through the formalities of leaving through the main gates. I back to my quarters and some much needed sleep and the king to prepare for the public entombment of the man passing as his father. As we parted, he explained if there was comment on my absence from the rituals, his response would be that I was too overcome with grief, and the effects of my great age, to attend. I thanked him for his consideration.
“It is done?” asked Neferure as I entered our sleeping chamber just as the first light of dawn appeared to the east. “You look exhausted, dear husband.”
“Yes, he is gone and, save for some details, my work is finished. He and Nefertari are now safe forever.” I related the events of the night and she took satisfaction from the details of the final deception.
“It will be quite difficult for my brother, Prince Hori and I to appear in a state of complete reverence today, knowing we follow the body of a tanner in a wooden box to the tomb. Why should there be any body in the sarcophagus at all? No, wait, let me first attend to you. You need to bathe and have some nourishment as we have some hours before I must go to the temple for the service. My sister, Bintanath, will come to collect me later in the morning. When she visited yesterday she told me there are over fifty of our brothers and sisters gathered here for the ceremony. My father was certainly a prolific progenitor. We Paramessu must be the largest family in the kingdom!”
I bathed, changed into fresh linen and re-joined Neferure for breakfast. Around us, the preparations for the service began . Whilst the majority of mourners would come on foot,the higher born came to the Ramesseum by chariot and we heard the clatter of horse hooves on the temple’s front pavement, the chanting of priests and the threnody of musicians. It was a still morning and the air heavy with the fragrance of burning frankincense and myrrh.
“In answer to your question about a body, it is assumed that your father’s tomb will be robbed and those who break in, will steal whatever they can carry out of the tomb. The sarcophagus will be smashed open, coffins stripped of their gold and windings torn open to get to the amulets and heart scarab. If the robbers do not find a well adorned corpse, they may believe they have been cheated of their prize. Better the body of a tannery worker is despoiled than that of a king.”
“A gruesome business when spoken about so coldly.”
“Yes, this grim matter caused me to enlarge my tomb after I married you. This is a subject we must discuss with my son and Pashedu, now Ramesses has granted us part of his own treasures. As you know, it is planned to have Ipi’s remains transferred to my tomb after my death. I was not to know when I commissioned it, I would meet a wilful princess who would bewitch me with her charms and fill my life with so much pleasure.”
“I was never wilful. Charming and bewitching possibly but wilful, never.” She kissed the tip of my nose.
“I will let Osiris be the judge of that, my little gazelle. Our tomb is remote from the city and the royal valleys. Like Prince Khaemwaset, I spent many years walking the Theban Hills, looking for a secluded yet beautiful position and I found such a place in a valley on the far side of the hills facing the western horizon across the desert waste.” I spoke quietly “I will die soon now that my service to Ramesses is almost complete. Of this I am sure.” Neferure reached for my hands as I spoke of my death, her eyes brimming with tears.
“Hush, my dear, do not speak so easily of your passing for it hurts me so.”
“The golden falcon will call me to his side and I am now an ancient ruin myself.” trying to make light of the matter. “Our tomb was extended to accommodate both you and Ipi in separate chambers and fortunately there is ample provision for storage as I did not wish to hear two wives complaining about a lack of furniture or jewellery in the Second Life. One lifetime is enough.”
She playfully bit my hand. “Have I ever complained? My jewellery chest is heavy, my wardrobe is filled with fine clothing and our house is well furnished.”
“When you looked at me with those beautiful eyes and dropped hints as clear as the sky in mid-summer, I needed no further prompting. I seem to remember a diadem you saw in Abydos some years ago that cost more than a king’s ransom, more than I thought I could afford at the time. You fluttered your eyelashes, a pout appeared on your tender lips and your hand slipped suggestively to my thigh. The merchant thanked me profusely as we left his emporium with a small chest clutched to your bosom.” She laughed, the mischief in her laugh still warming my heart.
“Be serious, woman. Your Master speaks. After your death, both your coffin and Ipi’s will be taken to the distant valley with some small trifles of jewellery and perhaps a few tattered robes. Once you are both entombed, my son or grandson, whomever supervises the burial,will strike another of my famous clay pots and,if my calculations were correct, the tomb will be buried under thousands of tonnes of stone coming down from the overhanging cliffs. None will ever be able to find our tomb and touch our bodies. Now, you should prepare for the events of this day as I need to rest awhile. Tomorrow, my son and I need to do some work and this wreck of a man needs his sleep. Getting up early in the morning is still a problem.”
“Perhaps my hands will help your rising?” she said with a very suggestive look on her face. We had not slept together as man and wife for many years but the memories were delicious. “Be about you business, woman.” Again she kissed me, her tongue flickered wickedly for a moment and she left me to my slumber.
Two days after the entombment I awoke early, dressed and tenderly kissed Neferure on the forehead as she lay asleep upon our bed. Then I, Rekhmire, his son, and the Guards officers made our way to the valley and the tomb of Ramesses. The great cedar wood doors were closed and sealed with the insignia of the high priest. Silence had again settled on the Great Place, now the ceremonies had finished.
We climbed the hill above the entrance, took our measurements and the officers dug into the overburden. It took but minutes to uncover the wooden trapdoor, remove it and lower our tools. Torches lit, we climb down into the tomb. Taking a torch, I went to the well shaft, looked up and saw the wooden planks had not been dislodged. A man was sent up to remove these and then sweep the well shaft floor. Pashedu inspected the limestone false wall. “You are sure we can move the block without causing damage to the inscribed face?”
“Not when it was the size and weight I originally planned. You learn many tricks about our art as you grow older, my son. When it was first parted from the virgin rock, I calculated its weight to be about twenty four tonnes, which is an easy weight to manage when space is not a limiting factor. However, some time later I watched masons carving a granite sarcophagus in Aswan. They take a rectangular block and hollow it out and, as we only need one observed face, I asked Nebamun to have this block hollowed out so it now looks like a giant sarcophagus trough. The weight was reduced by two thirds but it increased the risk of damage whilst it is positioned.”
“Look at this.” I took him into the well shaft. “Look at the corners of the three solid walls. You will observe they have been chiselled with each face bevelled on all four edges and some of the edges are chipped as though the masons were careless in their work. As I cannot control the possibility of the plugging block’s edges getting chipped as it is driven into place, I thought to make every face in the well look the same. See, around the bottom of the shaft there is a black painted border matching the same border on the false wall. In the darkness, any who climb down here will only see an area of blackness as even the floor is painted black. I am not so happy about the frieze painted around the top of the shaft but it is an innocuous scene of reeds and the river. I would have preferred another black border but on this I was overruled by the temple priest vested with the final authority on tomb decorations.”
“All of this is good. But how do you ensure the block will go straight into the aperture. You cannot hammer the block as it may fracture.”
“With levers, a great degree of patience and the guidance of Thoth. Ask your father to bring the men and the ironwood levers and we will begin. Possibly your grandfather may teach you a little more today.”
The rectangular block already stood proud of the backing wall. I instructed my men to form into two groups and place their levers midway against the back wall and the rear edge of the block on both sides. On my instruction, they pulled backwards and the block slid forward. “Again” and it slid forward again, moving closer to the aperture as it was levered across the floor. A third application of muscle moved it further still. We stopped and made some very careful observations of the alignment of the block and the opening. Some careful but forceful pushing from the sides ensured aperture and block were lined up perfectly. There is a mechanical principle applicable to the use of levers and the principle applied to this task. The further away from the point of leverage you are, the longer must be the levers to apply effective force and we had moved the block far away from the backing wall. Obviously, in the confined space of the corridor, we could not use longer levers. Anticipating this,I had previously arranged to have blocks of squared granite, each cut to a specific size, deposited in the corridor.
“As we cannot use longer levers, the point of leverage needs to be shortened between the wall and the object being moved.” I said to my grandson. “Bring those blocks over here and placed them four deep and six high against the backing wall as this will, in effect, bring the wall forward.”
“Very clever, grandfather, you have the makings of a great architect.”
We worked for most of the day, taking periodic breaks up in the fresh air as the tomb became hot and close from our exertions. The first oxen drawn sleds bearing sand had arrived and more could be seen entering the valley. Our last effort saw the block levered into the aperture, up to to a red ochre line drawn down its outer sides.
“It is home now - its engraved face forms the fourth wall of the shaft. Now, move these granite blocks forward to provide a buttress from the back wall right up to the edges of the block. They will stop anyone trying to push it inwards from the well shaft.”
On close inspection, the joint between the solid walls and the block was almost invisible. I said to Pashedu, “The facing blocks on the great pyramid were placed with no more than one quarter of a millimetre gap. With good masons, patience and the right tools it is possible to achieve what has been done here today.”
We watched the placement of the buttressing blocks. The Guardsmen then hoisted their equipment up the tunnel and ascend the ladder to the surface. I shook my grandson’s hand and then addressed Rekhmire,
“There is nothing more to do within the tomb. Leave me a while, my son, as I wish to stay here a moment or two. You have done good work here today and I am proud of you. I have always been proud of you. You are a fine man and a good father.” He looked at me apprehensively, squeezed my arm and climbed up the ladder.
How blue the sky is today, I thought, looking up the shaft towards the light. I walked along the corridor to the vault with its black monolith, feeling a deep lethargy overwhelming me. I sat on the stepped buttressing and memories came flooding to my mind. The young pharaoh, vibrant and fresh from his coronation in Thebes, the first lion hunt with the king, our planning of great monuments and temples, the years of happiness with Ipi, her face fleeting across my vision, young children playing in our house, of Nebamun, Imhotep and the hauling of the great colossi,Ramesses discussing Qadesh, Khaemwaset and I inspecting the pyramids, the sweetness of my first meeting with Neferure in Memphis, the king and I fishing together in the Delta and the golden falcon looking at me on the palace terrace.
How cool the basalt was on my back and how brilliant the flaming of the torch….
Waiting on the top of the hill Rekhmire, Pashedu and the officers felt the ground tremble beneath them, heard a thunderous beating of wings coming from deep underground and looked down. A falcon of shimmering gold and an ibis of gleaming electrum, flew from the mouth of the tomb, wings beating faster, taking them up high over the escarpment where they slowly circled the Great Place and wheeled westward towards the horizon and their home.