The Golden One - Elizabeth Peters [65]
We passed through the towers of the gateway into the great open court. Emerson’s keen gaze swept the surroundings, from the smaller temple on our right, past the great pylons of Ramses III, and on to the left, where the chapels of the God’s Wives stood. His handsome countenance proclaimed his emotion: greed, pure and simple. If Emerson has a particular Egyptological passion, it is for temples, as mine is for pyramids, and he had wanted for years to tackle Medinet Habu. However, as he had admitted to me only this past year, it would be the work of a lifetime. He said it again as he stared wistfully about—a man trying to convince himself of something he knows is true and does not want to believe.
“We haven’t a large-enough staff,” I said, as I had said before. “And there is no hope of hiring skilled persons at the present time. Many of our younger colleagues are in the army.”
“Damned war,” Emerson muttered. “But with Lia and David, and Walter and Evelyn—”
“Yes, my dear, that would be very nice, and I hope with all my heart that one day they will join us. Until then we must make the best of what fate has to offer, and accept the good with gratitude and the bad with fortitude.”
“Good Gad,” said Emerson, and went stamping off toward the rope-enclosed area where Cyrus’s men were working.
Cyrus hailed us with pleasure and offered tea, which Emerson refused, without consulting anyone else. “I want to have a look round first, Vandergelt.”
“You wasted your time coming here if you expected I’d have anything new to show you,” Cyrus said grumpily, but he led the way toward the small building. On the lintel of the doorway were several rows of hieroglyphs, which Ramses scanned with an expert eye. The cat, which had climbed up onto his shoulder, leaned forward and stared as intently as he. I caught myself on the verge of asking it for a translation.
“What does it say?” I inquired, addressing Ramses.
“It’s an invocation to visitors, asking them to pray for the Adorer of the God Amenirdis and her successor, who built the chapel for her. ‘O you living ones who are on earth . . . if you love your children and would leave to them your positions, your hopes, your lakes, and your canals . . . please say . . . ’ The usual prayer, asking for bread and beer and every good thing for the lady’s spirit.”
“How sweet!” I exclaimed.
Ramses gave me an amused look. “Not really. The lady asks very nicely, but the inscription ends with what can only be described as a threat. If a visitor doesn’t speak the proper words, he and his wife will be afflicted with illness.”
The open forecourt, with columns on either side, led to an enclosed sanctuary. On the right of this building, which was both tomb and mortuary temple, were three smaller chapels, dedicated to a queen and two more of the God’s Wives. I had always been intrigued by these ladies, for their status was unusual. Kings’ daughters all, they were not kings’ wives, but wives of the god Amon, who had apparently lost the ability to procreate as he had done in the Eighteenth Dynasty, when he visited the queen in the shape of her husband and fathered the royal heir. These God’s Wives, who also held the title of Adorer of the God, did not bear children but adopted their successors. There were practical political reasons for this policy; the Late Period was a time of turmoil, with the throne of Egypt passing from pharaoh to usurper to conqueror and back; many of these men, residing in the north, sent royal daughters to Thebes to succeed the reigning God’s Wife, achieving thereby continuity and a certain legitimacy.
The position was one of high honor, the occupant surrounded by luxury and prestige; but I had often wondered about the women themselves. Doomed to lifelong celibacy, forbidden the joys of motherhood, they had not even the pleasures of power to compensate, for it is more than likely—men being what they are—that the ladies were mere figureheads, controlled by the king and