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Puduhepa has a plan to check Uri-Teshoop s rise.
The proud and noble Puduhepa had been meditating in
the temple of Ishtar for three days. When the soothsayer
deposited the carcass of a freshly killed vulture on one of
the altars, she knew her time had come.
Draped in a long garnet robe, a silver diadem in her hair,
Puduhepa clutched the handle of the dagger she would sink
into Uri-Teshoop s back when he bent to look at the vul-
ture s entrails, as the soothsayer would certainly suggest.
The handsome priestess had dreamed of a peace that
could never be, a balance of power within Hatti and a truce
with Egypt; but Uri-Teshoop s very existence reduced such
aims to nothingness.
She alone could prevent this demon from wreaking
havoc. She alone could help transfer power to her husband,
Hattusili, who would set the empire to rights again.
Uri-Teshoop entered the sanctuary. Puduhepa was hid-
den behind a massive column near the altar.
The emperor s son had not come alone, she noted with
annoyance. Puduhepa knew that she should give up and slip
out of the temple unseen. But when would another such
opportunity come her way? Uri-Teshoop s security would
only grow tighter. If she moved swiftly enough, she could
dispatch her husband s rival, most likely falling prey herself
to his bodyguards.
168 Christian Jacq
Shirking this sacrifice would be dastardly. She must
think about her country s future, not her own existence.
The soothsayer slashed the vulture s belly. A terrible
stench filled the air. Plunging his hands into the entrails, he
spread them out on the altar.
Uri-Teshoop approached, leaving a gap between himself
and his bodyguards. Puduhepa gripped the dagger handle
even tighter and prepared to strike. She must pounce like a
wildcat, concentrating all her energy in one deadly blow.
A sudden cry from the soothsayer stopped her in her
tracks. Uri-Teshoop backed away.
Your Highness, it s horrible!
What do you see in these entrails?
You must defer all your plans. At this time the outlook
is unfavorable.
Uri-Teshoop s impulse was to slit the priest s throat.
Even if he did, the members of his entourage who were pres-
ent would broadcast the news of the unfavorable reading. In
Hatti, no one ignored a soothsayer s predictions.
How long must I wait?
Until the omens change, Your Highness.
His blood rising, Uri-Teshoop stormed out of the
temple.
twenty-eight
he Egyptian court was rife with conflicting rumors
Tabout the royal couple s departure for the south. Some
claimed it was imminent, others that it had been postponed
indefinitely, given the unstable situation in the protec-
torates. Some even thought that the king, despite having
sent his royal sons to head the regiments, would be forced
to march off to war again.
Light flooded Ramses office as he stood in prayer before
his father s statue. On the broad table sat dispatches from
Canaan and southern Syria. Watcher, the yellow-gold dog,
slept curled in his master s armchair.
Ahmeni burst into the office. A message from Ahsha!
Can you authenticate it?
The handwriting is his, and he inserted my name in
code.
How was it sent?
One of the couriers brought it direct from Hatti. He
says that it never left his hands.
Ramses read Ahsha s letter detailing the extent of the
Hittite empire s internal troubles. He understood why the
earlier dispatches had persuaded his friend to put the forts
along the northeastern border on high alert.
170 Christian Jacq
The Hittites are in no shape to attack us, Ahmeni. The
queen and I can leave.
Outfitted with his amulet and his magic wristband, Kha
was copying a mathematical formula that showed how to
calculate the ideal angle for hoisting stones up a building
under construction, surrounded by earthworks. His sister,
Meritamon, grew more skilled each day at her harp. She
loved to play with their little brother, Merenptah, whose
first attempts at walking were closely monitored by Iset the
Fair and Fighter. The enormous Nubian lion liked to gaze
through half-closed eyes as the human cub toddled around.
Fighter s head snapped to attention when Serramanna
appeared at the garden gate. Interpreting the Sard s inten-
tions as peaceful, the lion gave a small roar and settled back
into his sphinx-like pose.
I d like to speak with Kha, Serramanna said to Iset the
Fair.
Has he done something wrong? she asked, haltingly.
No, of course not. But he may be able to help with my
investigation.
Wait here. As soon as he s worked out his problem, I ll
send him over.
Serramanna had made progress.
He knew that a Libyan sorcerer named Ofir was respon-
sible for murdering Lita, his sadly deluded protégée. As the
leading proponent of Akhenaton s heresy, he had used reli-
gion as a cover for his role as a Hittite spy, as well as to
spread sedition. These were no longer theories; they were
facts gleaned from a peddler nabbed by Serramanna s men
Ramses: The lady of abu simbel 171
when he showed up at Ofir s former Memphis residence (a
house deeded to Shaanar). The peddler was only a small-
time Hittite agent, to be sure, working on call for the Syrian
merchant Raia. He never heard that Raia had fled to Hatti
and the underground network had been dismantled. Fearing
rough treatment, he was more than willing to talk, and with
his cooperation Serramanna tied up a number of loose
ends.
But Ofir still eluded him, and Serramanna was not at all
convinced that Shaanar had died in the desert. Had the two
of them taken off for Hatti together? Experience had
taught the Sard that evildoers never gave up and their imag-
ination was limitless.
Kha approached the giant and looked straight up at him.
You re tall. You must be awfully strong.
Will you answer some questions for me?
Are you good at math?
I know how to count my men and the arms I issue
them.
Do you know how to build a temple or a pyramid?
Pharaoh gave me another job: catching criminals.
What I like is writing and reading hieroglyphs.
That s just what I wanted to talk to you about the
brush you re missing.
It was my favorite one. I really miss it.
You must have given this some thought, then. I m sure
you can help me figure out who s guilty.
I have an idea, but I m not sure. An accusation of theft
is not something to be made lightly.
The boy s maturity astounded the Sard. If there really
was a clue, Kha would never have overlooked it.
Have you noticed anyone around you behaving
strangely?
172 Christian Jacq
For a few weeks, I seemed to have a new friend.
And who was that?
Old Meba, the diplomat. He showed a sudden interest
in my work. Then, just as suddenly, he was gone.
A broad grin lit the hulking Sardinian s weather-beaten
face.
Thank you, Prince Kha.
In Pi-Ramses, as in Egypt s other cities, the Feast of
Flowers was a day of public celebration. As the nation s
chief priestess, Nefertari never forgot that from the First
Dynasty forward the government had relied on a cycle of
feast days cementing the marriage of heaven and earth. The
royal couple s continuation of the tradition involved the
population as a whole in the life of the gods.
On temple altars as well as doorsteps, floral arrange-
ments vied for attention. Here were huge bouquets, palm
fronds, bunches of roses; there were lotuses, cornflowers,
mandrakes with their stems.
Dancing with round or square tambourines, waving
acacia branches, wearing garlands of cornflowers and pop-
pies, women in the service of Hathor roamed through the
city s main streets, crushing thousands of petals beneath
their feet.
Ramses sister, Dolora, had positioned herself near the
queen, whose beauty dazzled everyone lucky enough to
catch sight of her. Nefertari remembered her girlhood
dream of a cloistered life. How could she have conceived of
a Great Royal Wife s obligations, which seemed to weigh
more heavily each day?
Ramses: The lady of abu simbel 173
The procession surged toward the temple of Amon,
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