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  CRITICS SALUTE RAMSES

  “HE DIED THREE THOUSAND YEARS AGO. BUT HE IS STILL THE LITERARY STAR OF THE YEAR. THE RAMSES II SAGA . . . IS A MUST-READ BESTSELLER”

  —Paris Match

  “Officially, Christian Jacq was born in Paris in 1947. In fact, his real birth took place in the time of the pharaohs, along the banks of the Nile, where the river carries eternal messages. . . . Who could ever tell that Christian Jacq, Ramses’ official scribe, was not writing from memory?”

  —Magazine Littéraire

  “With hundreds of thousands of readers, and millions of copies in print, Christian Jacq’s success has become unheard of in the world of books. This man is the pharaoh of publishing!”

  —Figaro Magazine

  “In 1235 B.C., Ramses II might have said: ‘My life is as amazing as fiction!’ It seems Christian Jacq heard him. . . . Christian Jacq draws a pleasure from writing that is contagious. His penmanship turns history into a great show, high-quality entertainment.”

  —VSD

  “It’s Dallas or Dynasty in Egypt, with a hero (Ramses), beautiful women, plenty of villains, new developments every two pages, brothers fighting for power, magic, enchantments, and historical glamour.”

  —Liberation

  “He’s a pyramid-surfer. The pharaoh of publishing. His saga about Ramses II is a bookselling phenomenon.”

  —Le Parisien

  RAMSES

  Volume I: The Son of Light

  Volume II: The Eternal Temple

  Volume III: The Battle of Kadesh

  Volume IV: The Lady of Abu Simbel

  Volume V: Under the Western Acacia

  RAMSES VOLUME II: THE ETERNAL TEMPLE. Copyright © 1996 by Editions Robert Laffont (Volume 2). All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

  For information address Warner Books, Hachette Book Group, 237 Park Avenue, New York, NY 10017.

  A Time Warner Company

  ISBN: 978-0-446-93022-2

  Originally published in French by Editions Robert Laffont, S.A. Paris, France.

  A trade paperback edition of this book was published in 1998 by Warner Books.

  The “Warner Books” name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

  First eBook Edition: March 2001

  Visit our Web site at www.HachetteBookGroup.com

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  ONE

  Ramses was alone, awaiting a sign from the Invisible.

  Alone, facing the vast scorched stretches of desert. Alone, facing the destiny still just beyond his grasp.

  At twenty-three, Prince Ramses was tall and athletic, with well-defined, powerful muscles and a magnificent head of red-gold hair. A broad, high forehead, thick brows arching over small, bright eyes, a long, slightly hooked nose, rounded, delicate rimmed ears, full lips, and a strong chin added up to a commanding, attractive countenance.

  He had already been through so much—younger son of Pharaoh Seti, royal scribe, army officer, finally named co-regent by his father and initiated into the mysteries of Abydos.

  Seti had been a great ruler, an irreplaceable sovereign whose reign had brought peace and prosperity. But now Seti was dead after fifteen remarkable years on the throne, fifteen all-too-brief years that had flown like an ibis in the summer twilight.

  At first, Ramses had not even been aware that his distant, demanding, awe-inspiring father was gradually grooming him for kingship. Seti had put him through various tests, beginning with a face-to-face encounter with a wild bull, the symbol of pharaonic power. At fourteen, Ramses had the courage to confront the beast, but not the strength to overcome it. He would have been gored to death if Seti hadn’t roped the charging bull, leaving Ramses indelibly impressed with the understanding of a pharaoh’s first duty: protecting the weak.

  The king alone held the key to true power. Through the magic of experience, he communicated it to Ramses, stage by stage, without revealing his master plan. Over the years, father and son had grown closer, united in faith and purpose. Reserved, unbending, Seti was a man of few words, yet with Ramses he indulged in long conversations, attempting to spell out what was required of the Lord of the Two Lands, upper and lower Egypt.

  Those golden hours, those blessed moments had now vanished into the silence of death.

  Pharaoh’s words had poured like consecrated water into Ramses’ heart, where they would be stored as precious treasure, infusing his thoughts and actions. But Seti had departed, gone to commune with his fellow gods, and Ramses was alone, bereft of his father’s guiding presence.

  He felt defenseless, unable to bear the weight thrust upon his young shoulders. To govern Egypt . . . at thirteen, it had been his dream, a childish longing for a prize that could never be his. Convinced that his older brother, Shaanar, was his father’s chosen successor, he had finally surrendered the foolish notion.

  But Pharaoh Seti and Tuya, the Great Royal Wife, had decided otherwise. After observing their two sons in action, their choice had fallen on Ramses. Why hadn’t they found someone stronger and abler, someone as great as Seti! Ramses felt prepared to meet any challenger face-to-face, but not to steer the ship of state through the uncertain waters of the future. He had proven himself in combat, campaigning with Seti in Nubia; his boundless energy would see him through a war in defense of his country, if the need arose; but he had no idea how to command an army of bureaucrats, dignitaries, and priests, all of whom could outmaneuver him.

  The founder of their dynasty, the first Ramses, had been an elderly vizier, unwillingly appointed Pharaoh. When Seti inherited the throne, he was mature and experienced. He, Ramses, was only t
wenty-three and had been content to live in his father’s shadow, following his directives and responding to the least of his demands. It had been so wonderful to have a trusted guide! To work under Seti’s orders, to serve Egypt by obeying the Pharaoh, to have him available with the answer to every question . . . that paradise was lost.

  Now fate had unfairly dictated that Ramses, a spirited, even rash young man, should take Seti’s place. It might be better if he fled, laughing, so far into the desert that no one would ever find him.

  Of course, he could count on his supporters: his mother, Tuya, an exacting and faithful ally; Nefertari, his beautiful, calm young wife; and his four boyhood friends. Moses, the Hebrew, now supervised royal construction projects, Ahsha was in the diplomatic corps, Setau was a snake charmer, and Ahmeni had devoted his life to Ramses as his private secretary and sandal-bearer.

  However, he could count far more enemies. His brother, Shaanar, had still not given up on claiming the throne for himself. It was anyone’s guess what plots he was currently hatching. If Shaanar appeared before him this very instant, Ramses would offer no resistance. His brother might as well wear the double crown if he coveted it so desperately.

  But did Ramses have the right to betray his father and abdicate the responsibility with which he had been entrusted? It would be so simple to conclude that Seti had been mistaken, that in the end he might have changed his mind. But Ramses would not lie to himself. His fate depended on the answer he received from the Invisible.

  It was here, in the desert, the heart of this “red land” charged with a dangerous energy, that the answer would come to him.

  Sitting cross-legged in the classic scribe’s pose, Ramses waited. The vast and solitary desert was the place for a pharaoh. The rocks and sand harbored a fire that would either strengthen his soul or break him. Let the fire pass judgment!

  The sun approached its zenith, the wind died down. A gazelle leaped from dune to dune. Danger was near.

  It came out of nowhere: an enormous lion, twice as big as normal. The blazing mane made it look like a triumphant warrior, the sleek dark brown body rippled with muscles.

  At the sight of Ramses, it loosed a fearful roar that echoed far into the distance. Teeth flashing, claws bared, the big cat studied its prey.

  Seti’s son had no way to escape him.

  The lion came closer, then stopped a few yards from Ramses, who noticed his golden eyes. For a few seconds, they stared each other down.

  Flicking his tail at a fly, the lion loped forward, suddenly tense.

  Ramses rose to his feet, still staring hard.

  “It’s you, Fighter, whom I saved from certain death. What do you have in mind for me?”

  Forgetting the danger, Ramses remembered plucking the baby lion from the brush as his army left Nubia. Fighter’s remarkable constitution had allowed him to survive a cobra bite. Cured by Setau’s remedies, the cub grew to colossal proportions as Ramses’ pet.

  For the first time, Fighter had escaped from the pen where he was kept in his master’s absence. Reverting to the wild, he was ready to pounce on the man who had raised him.

  “It’s up to you, boy. Kill me now, or fight at my side for life.”

  The lion reared on his hind legs and set his paws on Ramses’ shoulders, nearly knocking him over. The prince held steady. Fighter’s claws retracted. He sniffed Ramses’ face. There was friendship, trust, and respect between them.

  “You’ve sealed my fate, boy.”

  There was no longer any choice for the young man Seti had named Son of Light.

  He would have to fight like a lion.

  TWO

  In Memphis, the palace was deep in mourning. Men stopped shaving, women wore their hair down. The mummification process took seventy days, and during that time the country was in limbo. The throne remained vacant until Seti’s successor was officially proclaimed, which could happen only after the Pharaoh was entombed and his mummy united with the heavenly light.

  The frontier posts were on alert, troops ready to check any attempted invasion, at the order of the prince regent and the Great Royal Wife. The principal threat was from the Hittites, to the north in Asia Minor. While there appeared to be no imminent danger, a surprise attack was always possible. For centuries, the rich agricultural provinces of Egypt’s Delta had been tempting prey for Bedouin raiders roaming the Sinai desert, as well as for Asian princes who occasionally managed to form coalitions and storm the northeastern border.

  Seti’s departure for the Land of the West was cause for alarm. Whenever a pharaoh passed away, the forces of chaos might prey on Egypt, destroying a civilization that had lasted through eighteen dynasties. Would young Ramses be able to keep the Two Lands safe from danger? Some of the notables were less than sure he could and wished he would step aside in favor of Shaanar, his more prudent and craftier brother.

  The Great Royal Wife, Tuya, had not changed her habits since Seti’s death. Forty-two years old, slender and regal, with a fine, straight nose, piercing almond eyes, and a nearly square jaw, her moral authority was unquestionable. She had always been Seti’s full partner; when he was forced to leave the country on state business, it was she who ruled Egypt, and ruled it firmly.

  At daybreak, Tuya liked to stroll briefly in her garden, among the tamarisk and sycamore trees, organizing her workday as she walked. Her time was divided between secular and religious duties.

  With Seti gone, all her activity seemed devoid of meaning. Tuya’s sole desire was to join her husband in a world without conflict, far from the vanity of men; yet she was resigned to serving out her time on earth. Great happiness had been hers. She must repay her country by serving until she drew her last breath.

  Nefertari’s elegant silhouette emerged from the morning mist. “More beautiful than the palace beauties,” as the common folk said, Ramses’ wife had shining black hair and sublime blue-green eyes. An accomplished musician who played at the goddess Hathor’s temple in Memphis, a gifted weaver, educated in classical literature (including her husband’s favorite, the sage Ptah-hotep), Nefertari was not of noble birth; but Ramses had found her beauty, intelligence, and unusual maturity for her age an irresistible combination. Nefertari never called attention to herself, yet attracted everyone. Within moments of meeting her, Tuya had recruited the girl to oversee her household, a position Nefertari continued to fill even after her marriage to the prince regent. The two women were very close, almost reading each other’s thoughts.

  “The dew is thick this morning, Majesty. A blessing on our fair land.”

  “You’re up early, Nefertari.”

  “Not as early as you, and you’re the one who needs rest.”

  “I can’t sleep anymore.”

  “What can we do to ease your pain, Majesty?”

  A sad smile fluttered on Tuya’s lips. “Seti is irreplaceable. The rest of my life will be bearable only if Ramses prospers in his reign. The thought of it is all that keeps me going.”

  “I’m worried, Majesty.”

  “Tell me what you fear.”

  “That Seti’s wishes will not be respected.”

  “Who would dare go against them?”

  Nefertari remained silent.

  “You’re thinking of Shaanar, I know. He’s vain and ambitious, but he would never be so foolish as to defy his father’s will.” The soft gold of dawn began to light the queen’s garden. “Do you think I’m naive, Nefertari? You don’t seem to share my opinion.”

  “Majesty . . .”

  “Has something happened to . . . ?”

  “No, it’s only a feeling.”

  “Daughter, you’re intuitive and quick as lightning. I know you never speak ill of others. But at this point nothing can stop Ramses from being crowned, short of his death.”

  “That’s exactly what I fear, Majesty.”

  Tuya stroked the branch of a tamarisk. “Would Shaanar resort to murder as his stepping-stone to power?”

  “I hate the idea as much as you d
o, but I can’t get it out of my mind. You may think I’m a fool and tell me it’s all in my imagination. Even so, I had to say something.”

  “What security measures has Ramses taken?”

  “His lion and watchdog guard are always on duty, along with Serramanna, the head of his royal bodyguard. Since he came back safe from the desert, I’ve finally convinced him of the need for constant protection.”

  “We’re only ten days into the mourning period. In two months, Seti’s body will be placed in his tomb, preserved for eternity. Then Ramses will be crowned and you will become Queen of Egypt.”

  Ramses bowed to his mother, then pressed her tenderly to him. Seemingly so fragile, she was a lesson in dignity and nobility.

  “Why has God put us to such a cruel test?” he asked.

  “Seti’s spirit lives on in you, my son. His time is over, yours is beginning. He will never die if you continue his work.”

  “His shadow dwarfs me.”

  “You, the Son of Light? You must part the darkness, overcome the chaos that looms around us.”

  The young man pulled away from his mother.

  “My lion was loose in the desert. He approached me as a friend.”

  “The sign you were hoping for, wasn’t it?”

  “Definitely, but may I ask you a favor? Whenever my father went abroad, you filled in for him.”

  “Yes, according to tradition.”

  “You have experience. You have everyone’s respect and admiration. What keeps you from replacing him now?”

  “You know that was not Seti’s wish. He represented the law we must all try to follow. You are the one he chose, my son, and you must succeed him. I’ll help all I can and advise when you ask.”

  Ramses did not press her. His mother was the only person who could alter his destiny and lift this burden from him, but she would never swerve from the course her late husband had set. Despite his misgivings, Ramses would have to make his own way.

  Serramanna, Ramses’ Sardinian bodyguard, stuck close to the king-to-be, never leaving his wing of the royal palace. Naming the former pirate to this prestigious position had been a controversial move. Some were convinced that sooner or later the mustachioed giant would turn on Seti’s son.