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Shaanar could move in for the kill.
While the new king was busy forming his government
and bringing Thebes to heel, his brother had been quiet,
seemingly detached. Soon he would have to make himself
heard, or else be suspected of plotting in the back-
ground.
After much thought, Shaanar had concluded that his
best course was to play Ramses for a fool, in a manner so
blatant that the new pharaoh would have to lash out at him,
never realizing that it was exactly the reaction his brother
Ramses: The eternal temple 107
wanted. If his little experiment worked, Shaanar would
know that Ramses could be manipulated.
And Shaanar would manipulate him for all he was worth.
For the tenth time, Ramses was lecturing Watcher about
his fishing expeditions. It wasn t nice to steal from the
palace ponds. It was nice to share his catch with Fighter, but
didn t they both get enough to eat as it was? The yellow dog
listened attentively, yet his expression told the king he was
wasting his breath. With the lion as his accomplice, Watcher
knew he could get away with murder.
The towering figure of Serramanna appeared in the
doorway of Ramses office.
Your brother wants to see you, but he refuses to be
searched.
Let him in.
Serramanna stepped aside. Shaanar shot him an icy look
in passing.
Would Your Majesty be so good as to grant me a pri-
vate interview?
The yellow dog tagged after Serramanna, who always
had a treat for him.
It s been a long time since we talked, Shaanar.
You have so much to do. I didn t want to be a nuisance.
Ramses circled his brother, inspecting.
What are you looking at? Shaanar said anxiously.
You re thinner, brother dear.
I ve been trying to cut back these last few weeks.
Despite his dieting, Shaanar was still plump. His small
108 Christian Jacq
dark eyes shone in a moon face with the pudgy cheeks and
the full lips of a true food lover.
Why the beard?
I ll never stop mourning Seti, he said. To lose our
father so young . . .
I sympathize, Ramses said feelingly.
I m sure you do, but your duties leave you little time to
dwell on it. It s not the same for me.
What brings you here today?
You ve been expecting me, haven t you?
The king made no comment.
I m your older brother and my reputation is excellent.
I ve put our differences behind me; I can live with the fact I
was passed over for the throne. But I can t resign myself to
being a royal showpiece, of no real use to my country.
I understand how you feel.
My work as chief of protocol is no longer enough for
me, especially since Romay, the new chief steward, has been
handling most of it.
What do you want, Shaanar?
I ve thought long and hard before approaching you. I
had to swallow my pride.
There should be no question of such a thing between
brothers.
Will you meet my demands?
Not when I have no idea what they are.
Will you hear me out?
Please go ahead.
Shaanar began to pace. Could I ask to become vizier?
Impossible. You d be accused of favoritism. Head the
police? The bureaucracy is too complicated. Chief royal
scribe? Too much responsibility, not enough time for my
royal duties. What about overseeing your construction proj-
Ramses: The eternal temple 109
ects? No, I have no experience. Agriculture? You ve already
filled the position. Finance? You kept the incumbent. You
plan to reform the temples, but I have no inclination toward
the religious life.
Where does that leave you?
With the one job I m suited for: secretary of state.
You re aware of my interest in trade relations. Instead of
concentrating on negotiations for my personal gain, I want
to work toward strengthening diplomatic ties with our
neighbors, as well as within our dependent territories.
Shaanar finally came to a halt, asking, Does my pro-
posal shock you?
It s a tall assignment.
My major goal would be avoiding war with the Hittites.
No one wants bloodshed. I ve always promoted peace; will
you give me a chance to do something concrete about it?
Ramses pondered. I ll grant your request, he finally
told his brother. But you ll need help, Shaanar.
Admittedly. Do you have someone in mind?
My friend Ahsha. A professional diplomat.
A minder?
A partner, I hope.
As Your Majesty sees fit.
Meet with him as soon as possible, then outline your
program for me.
On his way out of the palace, Shaanar could barely con-
tain a whoop of joy.
He had twisted Ramses around his little finger.
nineteen
amses sister threw herself at his feet.
R Forgive me, I beg of you, she sobbed. Forgive my
husband and me!
Get up, Dolora. Don t make a spectacle of yourself.
Dolora let him help her to her feet, but was still afraid
to look at him. Tall and listless, she seemed about to swoon.
Forgive us, Ramses. We didn t know what we were
doing!
You wanted me dead. Twice your husband tried to have
me killed. Sary, who practically raised me!
It was wrong of him, very wrong. I should never have
played along. We were too easily influenced.
By whom, sister dear?
The high priest at Karnak. He brainwashed us into
thinking you d be a bad king, that you d lead the country
into a civil war.
You had no faith in me at all, then.
My husband knew you as an impetuous boy, always
itching for a fight. Now he sees the error of his ways . . . if
you only knew how truly sorry he is!
Ramses: The eternal temple 111
And could our dear brother have been in on the plot?
No, lied Dolora. He s the one we should have listened
to. Once he was reconciled to our poor father s decision to
name you as his successor, Shaanar became one of your
staunchest supporters. His only thought now is serving
Egypt in a position that will make full use of his talents.
Why didn t Sary come with you?
Dolora hung her head. He fears the wrath of Pharaoh.
As well he should. But luckily for both of you, our
mother and Nefertari have been pleading in your favor.
They want to keep peace in the family, out of respect for
Seti s memory.
Are you pardoning me? asked his sister, astonished.
I m appointing you honorary superior of the harem at
Thebes. A grand title, but not too tiring for you. Just make
sure you behave yourself, Dolora.
And . . . my husband?
He s going to head the brickyard at Karnak. Seti s addi-
tions to the temple are still being finished, so he ll have
plenty to do. It s time he accomplished something con-
structive.
But Sary has always been a scribe, an academic. He can t
do manual labor!
Remember the teachings of the sages, Dolora. The
hand and the mind must work together, or men turn evil.
Now hurry and report to your new assignments, both of
you. There s work to be done.
Leaving the palace, Dolora breathed a sigh of relief. Just
as Shaanar had predicted, she and Sary had escaped the
112 Christian Jacq
worst. Having just come to power, still in the sway of his
mother and his wife, Ramses was inclined to be merciful.
Being forced to work was a real punishment to her, but
less harsh than house arrest in some desert outpost or exile
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