Before the battle,
[The battle about to be described is taken entirely from the epos of
Pentaur.]
prayers were offered and victims sacrificed for each division of the
army. Images of the Gods were borne through the ranks in their festal
barks, and miraculous relics were exhibited to the soldiers; heralds
announced that the high-priest had found favorable omens in the victims
offered by the king, and that the haruspices foretold a glorious
victory. Each Egyptian legion turned with particular faith to the
standard which bore the image of the sacred animal or symbol of the
province where it had been levied, but each soldier was also provided
with charms and amulets of various kinds; one had tied to his neck or
arm a magical text in a little bag, another the mystic preservative
eye, and most of them wore a scarabaeus in a finger ring. Many believed
themselves protected by having a few hairs or feathers of some sacred
animal, and not a few put themselves under the protection of a living
snake or beetle carefully concealed in a pocket of their apron or in
their little provision-sack.
When the king, before whom were carried the images of the divine Triad
of Thebes, of Menth, the God of War and of Necheb, the Goddess of
Victory, reviewed the ranks, he was borne in a litter on the shoulders
of twenty-four noble youths; at his approach the whole host fell
on their knees, and did not rise till Rameses, descending from his
position, had, in the presence of them all, burned incense, and made a
libation to the Gods, and his son Chamus had delivered to him, in the
name of the Immortals, the symbols of life and power. Finally, the
priests sang a choral hymn to the Sun-god Ra, and to his son and vicar
on earth, the king.
Just as the troops were put in motion, the paling stars appeared in
the sky, which had hitherto been covered with thick clouds; and this
occurrence was regarded as a favorable omen, the priests declaring to
the army that, as the coming Ra had dispersed the clouds, so the Pharaoh
would scatter his enemies.
With no sound of trumpet or drum, so as not to arouse the enemy, the
foot-soldiers went forward in close order, the chariot-warriors, each in
his light two-wheeled chariot drawn by two horses, formed their ranks,
and the king placed himself at their head. On each side of the gilt
chariot in which he stood, a case was fixed, glittering with precious
stones, in which were his bows and arrows. His noble horses were richly
caparisoned; purple housings, embroidered with turquoise beads, covered
their backs and necks, and a crown-shaped ornament was fixed on their
heads, from which fluttered a bunch of white ostrich-feathers. At the
end of the ebony pole of the chariot, were two small padded yokes, which
rested on the necks of the horses, who pranced in front as if playing
with the light vehicle, pawed the earth with their small hoofs, and
tossed and curved their slender necks.
The king wore a shirt of mail,
[The remains of a shirt of mail, dating from the time of Scheschenk
I. (Sesonchis), who belonged to the 22d dynasty, is in the British
Museum. It is made of leather, on which bronze scales are
fastened.]
over which lay the broad purple girdle of his apron, and on his head was
the crown of Upper and Lower Egypt; behind him stood Mena, who, with his
left hand, tightly held the reins, and with his right the shield which
was to protect his sovereign in the fight.
The king stood like a storm-proof oak, and Mena by his side like a
sapling ash.
The eastern horizon was rosy with the approaching sun-rise when they
quitted the precincts of the camp; at this moment the pioneer Paaker
advanced to meet the king, threw himself on the ground before him,
kissed the earth, and, in answer to the king’s question as to why he had
come without his brother, told him that Horus was taken suddenly ill.
The shades of dawn concealed from the king the guilty color, which
changed to sallow paleness, on the face of the pioneer--unaccustomed
hitherto to lying and treason.
“How is it with the enemy?” asked Rameses.
“He is aware,” replied Paaker, “that a fight is impending, and is
collecting numberless hosts in the camps to the south and east of the
city. If thou could’st succeed in falling on the rear from the north of
Kadesh, while the foot soldiers seize the camp of the Asiatics from the
south, the fortress will be thine before night. The mountain path that
thou must follow, so as not to be discovered, is not a bad one.”
“Are you ill as well as your brother, man?” asked the king. “Your voice
trembles.”
“I was never better,” answered the Mohar.
“Lead the way,” commanded the king, and Paaker obeyed. They went on in
silence, followed by the vast troop of chariots through the dewy morning
air, first across the plain, and then into the mountain range. The corps
of Ra, armed with bows and arrows, preceeded them to clear the way; they
crossed the narrow bed of a dry torrent, and then a broad valley opened
before them, extending to the right and left and enclosed by ranges of
mountains.
“The road is good,” said Rameses, turning to Mena. “The Mohar has
learned his duties from his father, and his horses are capital. Now he
leads the way, and points it out to the guards, and then in a moment he
is close to us again.”
“They are the golden-bays of my breed,” said Mena, and the veins started
angrily in his forehead. “My stud-master tells me that Katuti sent them
to him before his departure. They were intended for Nefert’s chariot,
and he drives them to-day to defy and spite me.”
“You have the wife--let the horses go,” said Rameses soothingly.
Suddenly a blast of trumpets rang through the morning air; whence it
came could not be seen, and yet it sounded close at hand.
Rameses started up and took his battle-axe from his girdle, the horses
pricked their ears, and Mena exclaimed:
“Those are the trumpets of the Cheta! I know the sound.”
A closed wagon with four wheels in which the king’s lions were conveyed,
followed the royal chariot. “Let loose the lions!” cried the king, who
heard an echoing war cry, and soon after saw the vanguard which had
preceded him, and which was broken up by the chariots of the enemy,
flying towards him down the valley again.
The wild beasts shook their manes and sprang in front of their master’s
chariot with loud roars. Mena lashed his whip, the horses started
forward and rushed with frantic plunges towards the fugitives, who
however could not be brought to a standstill, or rallied by the king’s
voice--the enemy were close upon them, cutting them down.
“Where is Paaker?” asked the king. But the pioneer had vanished as
completely as if the earth had swallowed him and his chariot.
The flying Egyptians and the death-dealing chariots of the enemy came
nearer and nearer, the ground trembled, the tramp of hoofs and the
roar of wheels sounded louder and louder, like the roll of a rapidly
approaching storm.
Then Rameses gave out a war cry, that rang back from the cliffs on
the right hand and on the left like the blast of a trumpet; his
chariot-guard joined in the shout--for an instant the flying Egyptians
paused, but only to rush on again with double haste, in hope of escape
and safety: suddenly the war-cry of the enemy was heard behind the
king, mingling with the trumpet-call of the Cheta, and out from a cross
valley, which the king had passed unheeded by--and into which Paaker had
disappeared--came an innumerable host of chariots which, before the king
could retreat, had broken through the Egyptian ranks, and cut him off
from the body of his army. Behind him he could hear the roar and shock
of the battle, in front of him he saw the fugitives, the fallen, and the
enemy growing each instant in numbers and fury. He saw the whole danger,
and drew up his powerful form as if to prove whether it were an equal
match for such a foe. Then, raising his voice to such a pitch, that it
sounded above the cries and groans of the fighting men, the words of
command, the neighing of the horses, the crash of overthrown chariots,
the dull whirr of lances and swords, their heavy blows on shields and
helmets, and the whole bewildering tumult of the battle--with a loud
shout he drew his bow, and his first arrow pierced a Cheta chief.
His lions sprang forward, and carried confusion into the hosts that were
crowding down upon him, for many of their horses became unmanageable at
the roar of the furious brutes, overthrew the chariots, and so hemmed
the advance of the troops in the rear. Rameses sent arrow after arrow,
while Mena covered him with the shield from the shots of the enemy. His
horses meanwhile had carried him forward, and he could fell the foremost
of the Asiatics with his battle-axe; close by his side fought Rameri and
three other princes; in front of him were the lions.
The press was fearful, and the raging of the battle wild and deafening,
like the roar of the surging ocean when it is hurled by a hurricane
against a rocky coast.
Mena seemed to be in two places at once, for, while he guided the horses
forwards, backwards, or to either hand, as the exigences of the position
demanded, not one of the arrows shot at the king touched him. His eye
was everywhere, the shield always ready, and not an eyelash of the young
hero trembled, while Rameses, each moment more infuriated, incited his
lions with wild war-cries, and with flashing eyes advanced farther and
farther into the enemy’s ranks.
Three arrows aimed, not at the king but at Mena himself, were sticking
in the charioteer’s shield, and by chance he saw written on the shaft of
one of them the words “Death to Mena.”
A fourth arrow whizzed past him. His eye followed its flight, and as he
marked the spot whence it had come, a fifth wounded his shoulder, and he
cried out to the king:
“We are betrayed! Look over there! Paaker is fighting with the Cheta.”
Once more the Mohar had bent his bow, and came so near to the king’s
chariot that he could be heard exclaiming in a hoarse voice, as he let
the bowstring snap, “Now I will reckon with you--thief! robber! My bride
is your wife, but with this arrow I will win Mena’s widow.”
The arrow cut through the air, and fell with fearful force on the
charioteer’s helmet; the shield fell from his grasp, and he put his hand
to his head, feeling stunned; he heard Paaker’s laugh of triumph, he
felt another of his enemy’s arrows cut his wrist, and, beside himself
with rage, he flung away the reins, brandished his battle-axe, and
forgetting himself and his duty, sprang from the chariot and rushed upon
Paaker. The Mohar awaited him with uplifted sword; his lips were
white, his eyes bloodshot, his wide nostrils trembled like those of an
over-driven horse, and foaming and hissing he flew at his mortal foe.
The king saw the two engaged in a struggle, but he could not interfere,
for the reins which Mena had dropped were dragging on the ground, and
his ungoverned horses, following the lions, carried him madly onwards.
Most of his comrades had fallen, the battle raged all round him, but
Rameses stood as firm as a rock, held the shield in front of him, and
swung the deadly battle-axe; he saw Rameri hastening towards him with
his horses, the youth was fighting like a hero, and Rameses called out
to encourage him: “Well done! a worthy grandson of Seti!”
“I will win a new sword!” cried the boy, and he cleft the skull of one
of his antagonists. But he was soon surrounded by the chariots of the
enemy; the king saw the enemy pull down the young prince’s horses, and
all his comrades--among whom were many of the best warriors--turn their
horses in flight.
Then one of the lions was pierced by a lance, and sank with a dying roar
of rage and pain that was heard above all the tumult. The king himself
had been grazed by an arrow, a sword stroke had shivered his shield, and
his last arrow had been shot away.
Still spreading death around him, he saw death closing in upon him,
and, without giving up the struggle, he lifted up his voice in fervent
prayer, calling on Amon for support and rescue.
While thus in the sorest need he was addressing himself to the Lords of
Heaven, a tall Egyptian suddenly appeared in the midst of the struggle
and turmoil of the battle, seized the reins, and sprang into the chariot
behind the king, to whom he bowed respectfully. For the first time
Rameses felt a thrill of fear. Was this a miracle? Had Amon heard his
prayer?
He looked half fearfully round at his new charioteer, and when he
fancied he recognized the features of the deceased Mohar, the father of
the traitor Paaker, he believed that Amon had assumed this aspect, and
had come himself to save him.
“Help is at hand!” cried his new companion. “If we hold our own for only
a short time longer, thou art saved, and victory is ours.”
Then once more Rameses raised his war-cry, felled a Cheta, who was
standing close to him to the ground, with a blow on his skull, while the
mysterious supporter by his side, who covered him with the shield, on
his part also dealt many terrible strokes.
Thus some long minutes passed in renewed strife; then a trumpet sounded
above the roar of the battle, and this time Rameses recognized the
call of the Egyptians; from behind a low ridge on his right rushed some
thousands of men of the foot-legion of Ptah who, under the command of
Horus, fell upon the enemy’s flank. They saw their king, and the danger
he was in. They flung themselves with fury on the foes that surrounded
him, dealing death as they advanced, and putting the Cheta to flight,
and soon Rameses saw himself safe, and protected by his followers.
But his mysterious friend in need had vanished. He had been hit by an
arrow, and had fallen to the earth--a quite mortal catastrophe; but
Rameses still believed that one of the Immortals had come to his rescue.
But the king granted no long respite to his horses and his fighting-men;
he turned to go back by the way by which he had come, fell upon the
forces which divided him from the main army, took them in the rear while
they were still occupied with his chariot-brigade which was already
giving way, and took most of the Asiatics prisoners who escaped the
arrows and swords of the Egyptians. Having rejoined the main body of the
troops, he pushed forwards across the plain where the Asiatic horse and
chariot-legions were engaged with the Egyptian swordsmen, and forced the
enemy back upon the river Orontes and the lake of Kadesh. Night-fall
put an end to the battle, though early next morning the struggle was
renewed.
Utter discouragement had fallen upon the Asiatic allies, who had gone
into battle in full security of victory; for the pioneer Paaker had
betrayed his king into their hands.
When the Pharaoh had set out, the best chariot-warriors of the Cheta
were drawn up in a spot concealed by the city, and sent forward against
Rameses through the northern opening of the valley by which he was to
pass, while other troops of approved valor, in all two thousand five
hundred chariots, were to fall upon him from a cross valley where they
took up their position during the night.
These tactics had been successfully carried out, and notwithstanding
the Asiatics had suffered a severe defeat--besides losing some of their
noblest heroes, among them Titure their Chancellor, and Chiropasar, the
chronicler of the Cheta king, who could wield the sword as effectively
as the pen, and who, it was intended, should celebrate the victory of
the allies, and perpetuate its glory to succeeding generations. Rameses
had killed one of these with his own hands, and his unknown companion
the other, and besides these many other brave captains of the enemy’s
troops. The king was greeted as a god, when he returned to the camp,
with shouts of triumph and hymns of praise.
Even the temple-servants, and the miserable troops from Upper
Egypt-ground down by the long war, and bought over by Ani--were carried
away by the universal enthusiasm, and joyfully hailed the hero and king
who had successfully broken the stiff necks of his enemies.
The next duty was to seek out the dead and wounded; among the latter was
Mena; Rameri also was missing, but news was brought next day that he had
fallen into the hands of the enemy, and he was immediately exchanged for
the princess who had been sheltered in Mena’s tent.
Paaker had disappeared; but the bays which he had driven into the battle
were found unhurt in front of his ruined and blood-sprinkled chariot.
The Egyptians were masters of Kadesh, and Chetasar, the king of the
Cheta, sued to be allowed to treat for peace, in his own name and in
that of his allies; but Rameses refused to grant any terms till he had
returned to the frontier of Egypt. The conquered peoples had no choice,
and the representative of the Cheta king--who himself was wounded--and
twelve princes of the principal nations who had fought against Rameses,
were forced to follow his victorious train. Every respect was shown
them, and they were treated as the king himself, but they were none
the less his prisoners. The king was anxious to lose no time, for sad
suspicion filled his heart; a shadow hitherto unknown to his bright and
genial nature had fallen upon his spirit.
This was the first occasion on which one of his own people had betrayed
him to the enemy. Paaker’s deed had shaken his friendly confidence, and
in his petition for peace the Cheta prince had intimated that Rameses
might find much in his household to be set to rights--perhaps with a
strong hand.
The king felt himself more than equal to cope with Ani, the priests, and
all whom he had left in Egypt; but it grieved him to be obliged to
feel any loss of confidence, and it was harder to him to bear than any
reverse of fortune. It urged him to hasten his return to Egypt.
There was another thing which embittered his victory. Mena, whom he
loved as his own son, who understood his lightest sign, who, as soon
as he mounted his chariot, was there by his side like a part of
himself--had been dismissed from his office by the judgment of the
commander-in-chief, and no longer drove his horses. He himself had been
obliged to confirm this decision as just and even mild, for that man was
worthy of death who exposed his king to danger for the gratification of
his own revenge.
Rameses had not seen Mena since his struggle with Paaker, but he
listened anxiously to the news which was brought him of the progress of
his sorely wounded officer.
The cheerful, decided, and practical nature of Rameses was averse to
every kind of dreaminess or self-absorption, and no one had ever seen
him, even in hours of extreme weariness, give himself up to vague and
melancholy brooding; but now he would often sit gazing at the ground in
wrapt meditation, and start like an awakened sleeper when his reverie
was disturbed by the requirements of the outer world around him. A
hundred times before he had looked death in the face, and defied it as
he would any other enemy, but now it seemed as though he felt the cold
hand of the mighty adversary on his heart. He could not forget the
oppressive sense of helplessness which had seized him when he had felt
himself at the mercy of the unrestrained horses, like a leaf driven by
the wind, and then suddenly saved by a miracle.
A miracle? Was it really Amon who had appeared in human form at his
call? Was he indeed a son of the Gods, and did their blood flow in his
veins?
The Immortals had shown him peculiar favor, but still he was but a man;
that he realized from the pain in his wound, and the treason to which
he had been a victim. He felt as if he had been respited on the very
scaffold. Yes; he was a man like all other men, and so he would still
be. He rejoiced in the obscurity that veiled his future, in the many
weaknesses which he had in common with those whom he loved, and even
in the feeling that he, under the same conditions of life as his
contemporaries, had more responsibilities than they.
Shortly after his victory, after all the important passes and
strongholds had been conquered by his troops, he set out for Egypt
with his train and the vanquished princes. He sent two of his sons to
Bent-Anat at Megiddo, to escort her by sea to Pelusium; he knew that the
commandant of the harbor of that frontier fortress, at the easternmost
limit of his kingdom, was faithful to him, and he ordered that his
daughter should not quit the ship till he arrived, to secure her against
any attempt on the part of the Regent. A large part of the material of
war, and most of the wounded, were also sent to Egypt by sea.