Chapter 1.
There’s a strange, almost transcendental change that occurs in the desert every morning just before the sun breaks the horizon. Strange as it may seem, the deadly heat of the day is completely replaced every night by a bone-chilling cold that can, and has killed many an unprepared creature caught in its frigid grasp.
Now, as the outlines of mountain tops in the east changed from black to gray, then to silver-edged brown, the all-encompassing cold was forced to shrink back into the sands. There it would wait until the cover of darkness when it could once again emerge to dominate.
The temperature change was abrupt. It always was this time of year. Trade winds coming off the Mediterranean Sea had not yet shifted northward, as they always did with the coming of summer solstice. The cool air they brought with them struggled for dominance over the on-rushing heat, forming dust devils which danced erratically across the shallow valleys between the dunes. As the sun broke the horizon, the last of them dissolved into nothingness, obliterated by the relentless heat.
The old man lay still in his bed. He had been awake now for several minutes, but remained, eyes closed, wrapped in that enchanting netherworld between slumber and wakefulness.
He felt the oppressive heat first on his cheek, even before the sun’s rays touched the side of his tent.
Slowly and carefully he stretched, forcing the pain and stiffness out of his worn out old joints, forcing his mind to surface to the reality of the dawn.
“Today’s the day!” That was his first thought as he felt the uncomfortable cold quickly replaced by heavy, suffocating heat. He had experienced this sensation almost every day of his live and had grown accustomed to the feeling. But today he was caught off guard, caught up in the realization that today was the culmination of a lifetimes work. He shuddered, with excitement as much as with the sudden change in temperature.
He was an old man, by most standards. For his near fifty years he had lived and worked here at the edge of the desert. He had taken two wives here. He had raised eight children here, all in the shadow of hundreds of magnificent stone monuments, a few of which he had hewn himself.
He was a master stone mason. He had worked all his life with stone. Though he would never admit it to another person, (least of all, either of his wives) stone was, and always would be, his one true love.
As a young man he had begun as a lowly hod carrier, lumbering up and down the steep, pebble-strewn trails leading into and out of the quarries. Across his back he slung stone slabs, some seeming more than his own weight. Up those narrow trails he had climbed, sometimes on all fours, sometimes slipping, only rarely falling . . . sweating and toiling day after day, for years seemingly without end.
His tenacity did not go un-noticed.
After years of dedicated service, he was promoted out of the quarries, left to earn his way as an apprentice to any craftsman who would have him. Some of his earliest memories were of watching with fascination as skilled craftsmen transformed rough stone into beautiful works of art. He dreamed of some day being able to do the same. And so it had become.
He and his life’s work had grown up together. From time to time he and his family had moved, but only to new job locations, and usually that had not been very far. This was his lifetime home, here at the edge of the desert.
He sat up slowly, scratching that special itch; the one on his right shoulder where the big callus was. His jaw popped gently as a yawn escaped, jarring his memory. He remembered how it had been so many years ago, when he was young and ambitious. He and his friends had anxiously awaited the time when they would be old enough to work in the quarry. That was the place where everyone got their start. All citizens were free to visit any time they wanted to observe the work being done there. But most people stayed away after seeing it for the first time.
It was hot there . . . hotter than most other places, primarily because it was below ground level. The winds which are so common in the desert, swirled right over the tops of the surrounding hills, pausing only long enough to deposit dust over everything below.
The old man stepped out of his tent and carefully stretched once again, being careful not to look directly into the rising sun. Now, as he had done so many thousand times before, he turned deliberately and slowly, looking back over the top of his tent at the magnificent structure he had helped create.
Rays crept over the tallest of the blooming date palms, casting hazy shadows into the dusty morning air. Hummingbirds buzzed and flitted about quietly, moving from one blossom to the next, gorging themselves on the sweet nectar.
The air was hot, sticky, oppressive, with only the slightest hint of a breeze barely jostling the palm leaves. Below them in the newly transplanted Baobabs, birds of all sizes and colors hopped from branch to branch, incessantly squawking their greetings to one another.
Then like an explosion, they all flew out of the trees at once. Not a voice could be heard above the mad flapping of feathers slapping the air, trying to escape the approaching commotion on the ground below.
The hod carriers were in an exceptionally good mood today. Walking in loose ranks, usually two abreast, they talked excitedly. Today they didn’t have to carry any more stones. The day had finally come. For just under a year they had carried bricks and stones of all sizes and shapes down this shallow hill from the quarry.
Now the construction was done. Now all that was left to do was the final clean-up. Then the celebration would begin.
The temple, the newest building to be commissioned for King Khufu, sat in a shallow depression, just to the south and east of the ‘bent’ pyramid, the tomb of the former Pharaoh, King Snefru.
Yellow-orange rays touched the top course of bricks, the last the hod carriers had had to labor under.
Creeping down the face of the wall, the rays fell upon a freshly painted yellow orb. The orb, 6 feet in diameter, rested on top of the head of a 45 foot profile of a man. Both were carved in bas-relief into the stone. Where the head of a man should have been, the profile of a ram’s head stared resolutely into the distance.
A nemes (headdress) sat atop the head, then cascaded stiffly downward, covering the broad shoulders of the carving. Thin shadows accentuated the smooth straight outline of the body. Far below at the statues feet, workers knelt, shoulders bent to the task of collecting remaining paint pots and reed brushes. Last minute touch-ups were finally complete.
This, the last of the many figures carved into the wall, stood head and shoulders above the others, equalled in height only by the figure which it faced. Its size and stature were commensurate with its importance. The new Pharaoh had decreed the new god Amon-Ra to be chief among gods, and had commissioned that the new god’s likeness be carved in magnificent splendor on the temple wall opposite his likeness. Each stood on opposite sides of the temple entrance, facing each other.
The entire building rested on a foundation eight feet above ground level. Extending across the entire front of the building, sixteen stone steps descended from the portico down to the plaza. At the bottom of the steps and flanking the entrance were two stone obelisks, each nearly 30 feet tall. The entire face of the temple was painted in beautiful bright colors.
The temple stood facing east at the head of a plaza over 200 yards long and 80 yards wide. High walls enclosed the north and south sides of the huge space. Each wall had a wide portal midway down its length. Guards flanked each opening, standing at relaxed attention, feet spaced at shoulder width, watching the hectic activity within. At the east end of the plaza sat two large statues of crouching lions, each facing back toward the temple. Beyond the statues a stone ramp descended to the street below.
Throughout the plaza, overseers strutted about authoritatively, shouting and pointing, berating the occasional unfortunate slow-moving worker. Other workers dashed about the courtyard collecting odds and ends left over from the construction. Some carried worn copper chisels and wooden mallets. Others, yolks on their calloused shoulders, lab
ored under the weight of baskets filled with stone chips. Following behind, old women stooped over reed brooms, sweeping up the last evidence of months of labor. The workers chattered to one another in eager anticipation of the majestic ceremony which would soon begin.
As the last of the clean-up was completed, overseers shooed the remaining workers out of the plaza, then looked about intently, trying to find anything which might still be out of place. Just beyond the walls of the plaza the workers dropped their burdens, dusted themselves quickly, and then raced to stand in the queues which had been forming since dawn.
Most of the city had turned out. A murmur of excitement filled the air as the guards snapped to rigid attention, blocking access to the plaza. Those at the front of the queues jostled for a clear view of what was about to begin.
Far to the east the faint sound of drums beating cadence began. An electric silence fell over the crowd as everyone strained to see. There in the distance the first ranks of soldiers in columns rounded the corner. Twenty-score foot soldiers, followed by five-score drummers marched majestically up the street toward the Grand Plaza. On and on they marched,feet slapping the ground in time with the pounding drums.
Swarms of people lined the street, cheering and waving palm fronds as the army marched forward. The pace never slackened as rank after rank ascended the ramp and entered the plaza.
Separating into two columns, they continued, one turning to the left, the other to the right. At command, each column turned west, marching parallel, ten yards from the massive walls. They marched in perfect unison, the sounds of sandal-clad feet and pounding drums echoing off the high walls. When the first man in each column reached the foot of the temple steps, the command to halt was given. Another command and each column turned outward, facing the walls. Each soldier took a wide stance, shield and lance held at the ready. The drum corps then moved forward into the plaza where it split and moved along side the soldiers. Another command and the portal guards moved aside.
Throngs of excited citizens swarmed forward, separating left and right, jostling for the best viewpoint. Too quickly the space between the guards and the walls was filled. Portal guards once again blocked the entrances. The overflow ran east, quickly lining both sides of the street below.
In the distance a new procession could be faintly seen. Dust stirred up by marching feet still hung in the air.
The procession drew nearer. Up the ramp they came. Rank after rank of lesser bureaucrats entered between the two majestic stone lions. Waving and shouting, they moved forward to the base of the steps.
Behind them, honored guests moved forward. At the base of the steps guards separated everyone to the left and right, then formed themselves into a barrier, blocking access to the central plaza.
Next came the Elite, favored of the Pharaoh, ranking military and government officials. Progressing ever forward with aloof, feigned indifference, they ascended the stairs. Stopping just below the highest level, they moved outward, fanning away from the center.
The drumming stopped. The noise of the throng quickly abated to a whisper; then to complete silence. All eyes turned to the east.
At the far end of the plaza a phalanx of 100 Elite Guard marched slowly, silently up the ramp, proceeding between the silent stone lions.
In the center of the phalanx, high above all others, the Pharaoh sat upon his litter-borne throne. Thirty-six bearers carried the litter at shoulder height (twelve on each side; six in front and six in back). Standing behind and to the Pharaoh’s sides, three slaves stood holding palm fronds interlaced with ostrich feathers. These they held above the Pharaoh’s head, shielding him from the sun. Behind each slave a guard stood at the ready, sword drawn.
Centered in front of the Pharaoh was a short lavishly decorated platform half the width of the litter. Upon the platform rested an ornately carved rectangular container covered in gold flake. Upon the containers lid was a carved and gilded likeness of a falcon, wings outstretched to its sides. Upon the falcons head a disc rested on edge, facing forward. It to was covered in gold. At the corners, midway down the sides, gold rings were attached, two in front, two in back. Two carved wooden poles, each six feet long, extended through the rings. Holding the end of each pole a bearer knelt, shaved head bowed, eyes closed.
As the phalanx approached, all citizens dropped to their knees and bowed their heads until the Pharaoh’s litter passed.
The next litter was surrounded by a smaller phalanx of soldiers. This time the citizens remained standing as it passed. Upon the litter the Pharaoh’s three wives sat abreast in elegant splendor. Behind each woman a slave stood, palm frond shade in hand. Again, each slave had a guard.
The last litter in the procession was much smaller than the others and was not surrounded by soldiers. Eight litter-bearers, two on each corner, carried the litter at waist height, befitting the lesser status of the High Priest whom they carried. No slave shaded him. No guard watched over him.
The phalanx of soldiers surrounding the Pharaoh opened in front as his litter approached the stairs. The bearers ascended, keeping the litter level. At the top of the stairs they continued onto the portico. Slowly the litter was rotated until the Pharaoh’s throne faced outward toward the plaza. After lowering the litter to the floor, the bearers bowed deeply while backing away.
The litter bearing his wives stopped at the foot of the stairs. The three then rose and walked to the edge of the litter. Majestically they stepped from the litter onto the bottom step. Upon reaching the top step, they moved to the Pharaoh’s right where they turned and faced the onlookers.
The litter bearing the High Priest stopped several feet short of the first step. Once the litter was lowered to the ground, the priest stepped forward and down onto the smooth stones. Dropping to his knees, he bowed down, touching hands and forehead to the ground. There he remained for several long seconds. Arising, hands clasped in front of him, head bowed in humility, he began to ascend the steps.
A quiet murmur began among the onlookers. This was the new High Priest. He alone, out of hundreds who had vied for this most coveted position, had been chosen by Pharaoh himself. This most lowly of priests, whom no one could recall ever seeing before this day, had now been elevated to a position of power and authority second only to Pharaoh himself.
At the top of the steps he paused. A nervous silence fell upon the crowd. Several moments passed.
The Elites knew that this was a moment of testing. They knew that what the priest chose to do next would forever influence his standing with them, the entrenched aristocracy. Should he choose to be viewed as their equal, they would find ways to undermine his authority. They would not willingly share their power and influence with anyone; let alone a relative stranger. They would discredit him at every opportunity. Plots would be set against him. His days as High Priest would be numbered.
More moments passed. Tensions continued to build. Those closest to the pharaoh cast discrete glances to one another. Already, silent alliances were being formed.
At the top of the steps another priest watched in veiled disdain. Seshat-Sekhentiu had held his position as Chief Priest for many years. Even when the late pharaoh Snefru died, Seshat had managed to out-maneuver his competitors. When Khufu took over power, few dared question Seshat’s right to remain. Several had tried. Two had not survived the attempt. Their ‘loss’ had been appropriately mourned within the circles of power. However, after the ‘unfortunate’ deaths happened, competition for his position had dwindled very quickly.
Now this upstart . . . this stranger had appeared out of no where and had gained immediate favor with Pharaoh. “How could that be?” the question plagued him. Yes, this newcomer was only High Priest of the new god (and there were so many high priests and so many gods). But he had not earned his position. He had not been appropriately appreciative of the status and influence of those who surrounded Pharaoh. For one person to wield such power so quickly was unheard of. If he could attain this much power this quickly, wh
at more could he do?
Seshat watched as the newcomer skillfully manipulated the onlookers below. Such talent! Skills such as this in the hands of the right person could be quite useful, if he could be persuaded. . . . If not, well. . . . Much had to be considered.