RAMSES AND SESEN
The youthful Ramses, leader of the recent successful expedition against
the Nubians, had won for himself many titles of distinction. Yet,
chief among these undoubtedly, was his new appointment to the rank of
Fan-Bearer-on-the-Right-of-Pharaoh.
The post of Fan-Bearer was an office eagerly sought by the more exalted
nobles, since it gave one the ear of Pharaoh, as did perhaps no other
position at Court. The one possible exception was the post held by Dedu,
son of Den, through four generations at least, the coveted post of
Keeper-of-the-King’s-Robes.
The title of Fan-Bearer had been given Ramses by Pharaoh at Thi’s earnest
solicitation. The Queen-Mother had been prompted to this step through
no love she bore the youthful soldier, but as part of a plan which was
intended to lull the stubborn adherents of Amen into a sense of false
security.
The aged Enana, grandfather to Ramses, was the subject of the
Queen-Mother’s especial detestation. Indeed, detestation was by far too
mild a word to express her feelings in respect to the old magician.
By conferring the title of Fan-Bearer upon Enana’s grandson, Thi hoped to
put Enana and the other followers of Amen off their guard. For, would not
the very title imply a definite and continuous sojourn in the capital?
Yet, of late, Thi felt that the attempt to keep the young soldier near
the Court had been ill-advised. For various rumors, vague hints of an
alarming nature, had reached the ears of Menna the Overseer.
These ill-defined rumors had been promptly reported to Thi, with various
embellishments, of course, on the part of Menna, son of Menna.
Without a doubt, someone who knew the Court, someone who was familiar
with the secret intrigues of harem life in the palace, had been quietly
spreading broadcast palace secrets of a most terrifying nature.
One report had it that the present Pharaoh was a Syrian, born before
Thi’s parents came down into Egypt.
It was hinted that Yakab the Chancellor was his true father. Had they
not both the same extraordinarily attenuated figure? Did not both suffer
from the same racking cough? Did not both speak with a marked lisp? Thi,
the Queen-Mother, was almost stout; the late Pharaoh had been a corpulent
man, in his youth possessed of unusual strength. The face was that of
Thi, perhaps, but the body that of Yakab the Chancellor!
Yes, it was plain that Thi had done away with Pharaoh’s former wife, the
Lady Hanit; that Menna and Thi had planned the murder of the true heir
to the throne, the Lady Hanit’s son, in order that Yakab’s son, by Thi,
might ascend the Egyptian throne.
Finally it was whispered that the murdered Prince still lived; that he
had escaped from Menna, son of Menna, into whose baleful charge he had
been placed.
All unwittingly, Ramses had been drawn into this maelstrom of palace
intrigue. His name was frequently mentioned in connection with the
probable succession to the throne.
The subject of a successor to the Horus Throne was one of great
importance at this moment. Queen Noferith had borne the king but
girls—“five little beams of Shu the sun-god” their royal father had
playfully called them. And of these one had recently become the perfume
of the heavenly lotus which the sun-god holds to his august face!
Pharaoh felt sure that Ramses himself knew nothing of these rumors. In
many a bitter discussion with his mother and Menna the Overseer Pharaoh
had frequently stated his conviction that Ramses would utterly condemn
such traitorous thoughts should they ever come to his ears.
Pharaoh had loved Ramses like a brother. He had admired him as some
superior being. For a time neither Menna’s craftily embellished reports
nor Thi’s openly avowed hatred of Enana’s grandson could turn Pharaoh
from his blind trust in the good faith of his boyhood’s hero.
Himself ever a sickly child, Pharaoh had sighed for his coming of age,
that he might take the field with Ramses, and be himself a witness of the
latter’s many deeds of valor.
For years had Pharaoh pictured himself in the famous Warbonnet of the
Pharaohs, that bright blue headdress which Thothmes and a long line of
heroic forebears had carried far into the ranks of their stricken foes
and, with one exception, returned in safety to their acclaiming people.
Yes, even King Sequenen’s horrible death, at the hands of the Hyksos
invaders, was better far than his present life of inaction, a life varied
only by tiresome harem plots, counterplots and the probabilities of a
general religious or civil upheaval.
But Pharaoh, under Thi’s baleful influence, was as pliable as the clay in
the deft fingers of the potter. The Queen-Mother presently took fright
at these oft-repeated and ever highly-colored rumors, and it was not long
before she and Menna had convinced Pharaoh that the grandson of Enana, at
Thebes, was a constant menace.
Thus, when “the rewards of the King” were yet warm in Ramses’ hands, that
happy young warrior was dismayed to receive a roll of papyrus, straight
from the hands of Majesty, a brief note whose finely written contents
necessitated another exile from Sesen, from Thebes and the home he so
dearly loved, the villa of Enana the Magician, his grandsire. Ramses was
commanded to depart for the north with the setting of the morrow’s sun,
there to take over the Egyptian army guarding the hostile frontier in
Asia. Bitter disappointment, and somewhat of anger, caused the voice of
Ramses to tremble as he directed his chairmen to set him down at Enana’s
villa.
The home of Ramses’ grandsire was built upon a circular island on the
western side of the Nile. Seen from a distance, this island appeared to
float upon the quiet waters. The low white walls which surrounded its
garden, its branching cedars, full crested palms and feathery mimosa
trees, were mirrored in the waters of the inundation.
Enana the Magician had felt called upon to live comparatively near to
Semet, Thebes’ unending burial ground, since, during the former monarch’s
lifetime he had been appointed “Guardian of the Royal Tombs.”
Enana was proud of his skill in necromancy; Enana was even more proud
of his knowledge of astrology, botany, medicine and of his intimate
acquaintance with the Magic Scrolls of the Conjurers and Sorcerers of
Amen. But, above all else, Enana enjoyed hearing himself addressed as
Guardian of the Ancestors, whenever a summons from Majesty or a Court
Function had necessitated his presence at the Palace. Alas, as far as
Enana and Renet, his wife, were concerned, such functions had long since
ceased!
Nevertheless, to-day was a gala day with Enana, a day of rejoicing to
his entire household. For to-day Enana, son of Enana, had arrived at the
ever-prayed for one hundred and ten years!
One other living person alone could boast of such a record and that was
the father of Thi, the Queen-Mother. But Iuya was only a nobleman by
courtesy, an Asiatic, an heretical believer in Aton. Enana scorned Iuya
as a pretentious old scoundrel, who spent the major part of his time
decrying everything Egyptian and lauding Syria, and all things Syrian.
All morning had the aged Magician, and the Lady Renet, his wife, sat
beside the garden pool listening to the effusive congratulations of his
friends, his neighbors, and the many members of his house and wide domain.
All that morning his bustling servants had been busy arranging the
various presents along the awning-shaded corridor which faced the
tree-set garden.
Bars and collarettes of gold, electrum and silver; bead stands of lazuli,
malachite, crystal, carnelian, amethyst, beryl, jasper; great pendants
in gold, silver or bright blue fayence; finger-rings of gold encrusted
with colored pastes or set with little green glazed beetles, carved in
stone and engraved below with felicitous expressions; treasures big and
little were piled high in seemingly innumerable vessels and exposed on
brightly painted wooden tables or stands along the halls and corridors.
Clusters of white, soft pink or pale blue lotus flowers were bound about
frames bent to represent the _anekh_ or sign of “longevity.” The _nofer_
or sign of “happiness,” in the shape of little lutes, hung from every
branch in the garden.
There had been but one thing lacking in a morning of
never-to-be-forgotten successes. As Khufu the Butler had remarked, not a
single member of the Royal House had visited their honored master; not
even a Royal Usher had come with the customary messages of felicitation
or with the usual “gold of honor.” To Khufu, as to the other devoted
servants of the aged Magician, this neglect was the occasion of grave
concern.
Not so to Enana! Well he knew the reason of this breach of courtesy, this
public affront.
Enana’s early training had been behind the walls of Amen’s great temple
in the Apt. There for years had he served Amen, God of Thebes, as
chorister, incense-bearer, lector, _keri heb_ and, lastly, as Chief
Magician.
Enana was known as a devoted follower of Amen, as an ardent and
incorruptible believer in the power of the greatest of all gods, Amen
of Thebes. As such he knew well that he had incurred the undying hatred
of Thi the Syrian, whose one ambition in life, now that her son was
established on the throne, was the overthrow of Amen and the destruction
of all the other local gods of Egypt. If Thi could compass it, Aton, the
Syrian sun-god, should be the sole object of worship from Suan of the
north to Suan of the south.
At the present moment, however, Enana had pushed from his mind all
thoughts of Thi. All his present enjoyment was centered in the scheme
next his heart and in his anticipation of seeing Ramses, his grandson,
whom it mostly concerned.
At any moment the young soldier might dash through the gate in that
impetuous way so dear to the frail old man.
Enana sat with his wrinkled hands resting upon the squares of gold leaf
with which his tunic was faced. His beady black eyes were fixed upon the
open door, his ears alert to catch the first shout of Ramses’ bearers,
as they rounded the great Mortuary Temple near by. From time to time his
hand went to his bosom where rested the magic book.
But the sun-god began his descent into the realms of darkness, lights
broke out in the distant city, a line of chanting priests bearing torches
appeared upon the walls of Amenhotep’s temple, the light upon the high
stand at Enana’s elbow was lit. Yet Ramses did not come.
Ah, Enana, but a little patience! Magician though thou art, the Goddess
Hathor is more powerful than thou!
Even as Ramses had finished reading the royal command and set his hand to
the arm of his carrying-chair, Seneb the Usher advanced bowing and handed
him a second note.
Joy lit up the stern face of the young soldier as he read; a sudden
animation seemed to fill his whole being. Bidding his chairmen await him
in the outer court, he turned and followed Seneb, the Usher, through the
columned aisles of the Audience Hall.
Arrived before the line of granite sphinxes which fronted the Treasury of
Silver, Seneb bowed again, turned on his heel and left him.
Three women stood beneath a doorway which fronted the innermost court.
Eagerly Ramses advanced as the form of the Princess Sesen stepped out
from its shadows:
“Sesen, they told me thou wert with thy Father in Thinis! Had I known, in
truth, that the Palace held thee, I would have come to claim thy promised
reward.
“By Hathor! Thou are more radiantly beautiful than when I left thee last!
How often have I lain awake at night thinking of thee. The hot nights
upon the desert sand passed quickly, restfully, for dreams of thee!
“Sesen, thou knowest all my love; all my hopes are centered in thee.
What are the rewards of Majesty to the reward that thou hast promised
me—thyself. Look! I have kept my word. I found the famous jewel which
Enana told thee of and—it is thine!”
Slowly Ramses drew from his girdle a great emerald set in gold. A
rose-colored band of fine gazelle hide showed it to have been worn about
the forehead of its former owner, the Nubian King.
King Shaba will need “the panther’s eye” no more. His ashes lie beneath
the smouldering ruins of his palace. Vultures hover above the demolished
houses of Napata, his Capital.
Sesen clasped her hands upon her bosom with delight. Without replying she
took the jewel from Ramses’ hand and bound it about her gold-filleted
wig. Ramses smiled down upon the happy little maid, as she sank into his
arms. The great jewel seemed to glow upon her forehead, as if it pulsed
to the rapid beating of her heart:
“Sesen, my Lotus! I love thee, I love thee!”
“And I, Ramses, my hero, feared for thee. Hathor’s altar has groaned
beneath the burden of my offerings for thy safe return.”
Her words brought to Ramses’ mind the command of Pharaoh. He had found
her but to lose her.
“Dove of Hathor, but a few short weeks and I return to claim thee for the
Lady of my House.”
“Thou returnest? Whither goest thou?”
“Alas, my Dove! The King commands that I head the Egyptian host which now
stands facing Kheta and her allies in Syria. By to-morrow’s sunset I must
leave to help old Noferhotep with his task. Yet, have no fear for me. The
Little People, I think, do but try out Noferhotep. He, poor man, grows
weary of the task of waiting, with nothing but patrol work at best to
break the monotony of his years of frontier life. Fear not for me. I have
thy love, my Sesen! If need be, I could cut my way through Asia, with thy
name my battle-cry. To-morrow I will see thee after the morning service.
The Lady Renet and her maids will come to escort thee to our house for
the betrothal. Breath of Ra, how happy will she be, she and Enana, my
grandsire. Now must I hurry to them. As thou knowest, ’tis a gala day
with my grandsire. May Hathor bless thee, my Sesen; may Aah cast her
protecting beams about thee.”
For an instant the lovers held one another in a close embrace. The next,
Ramses had mounted his chair. As he did so, twinkling lights broke out
among the dark patch of trees in which stood Enana’s distant villa.