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Ancient Egypt Magazine

Issue Three - September / October 2000

King Djoser

When the king was ready to cross to the west, he would enter a recreation of his earthly courts, but now built in everlasting stone. That was the vision of Imhotep, chief architect and vizier to King Djoser.

Not that it was easy to achieve, even for a man as powerful as Imhotep, who represented the king in all things, and had the will of the gods to guide him. A heavenly plan was not enough, because it took real men to build it. It took several skilled medical practi­tioners to deal with the constant injuries resulting from working on site at Saqqara. There were other problems too.

One day, the foreman in charge of working on the foundations had lost several days work by misinterpreting Imhotep’s intentions. The work had to be redone. But whenever the work had to stop for a time, Imhotep, whose brain was never still, used the time to make new plans. Often, surprisingly, a mistake turned out to be a bonus as it gave him new ideas. Everything must be as the gods willed it in the end.

His foremen did not know whether he was close to genius or insanity. "It’s changed again," became the regular muttered complaint of one to another as their labour force, freed by the inundation, for a time, from work in the fields, toiled under the hot sun dragging, squaring up, shaping and fitting the stones together. The site rang with construction noise.

When it was realised that the plan, eventually, was to bury the king under what amounted to a stack of tombs, one skilled man commented "Good – plenty of work for us and the sons, then. And his Majesty won’t be bothered under all that."

"Don’t you believe it," was the muttered aside of another.

As the massive building began to climb skywards, doubts began to increase. When it reached the height of four levels, some waited for the gods to withdraw their support. When it was realised that Imhotep had decided this move was so successful that he was going to extend it to six, the response was derisory. "Is he never going to be satisfied, not until he reaches the sun god himself?"  It took a strong head now to work on the higher reaches of the construction, and the smallest tumbling stones could kill one of the workmen below if they were kicked over the edge into space.

In death, the king would still be surrounded by life, just as the building site that was the final resting place of the royal family was constantly buzzing with activity. He would be served by living priests, who would come and offer food to his statue, peering out from the special chapel built to the side of the massive building that would be his home for eternity.

Round the central stepped structure, other creations in stone began to rise, imitating earthly, temporary things; reeds and mats, doors of wood now massively rendered in stone, and, amazingly, columns that represented the green and growing plants of Egypt.

"Columns," said the foreman. "Columns, and spitting cobras. To protect the king. Of course."

Shaking his head, he went back to outline the next stages to the workmen.

The wall began to rise round the whole complex.  Central to the whole of the ritual that would be carried out here was the court for the king’s jubilee festival, in which he would prove, before the everlasting gods, now, that he was still fit to rule. Over and over and over again it would be performed, through the millennia, for the gods. Once a king in Egypt, always a king in Egypt. The only people to see the ghostly performance now would be the priests, the gods and the king’s own dead family.

The king came out at last to see his final resting place. Those who had the court gossip said he was a serious and reserved man, who never gave his feelings away.

The work wasn’t quite finished, of course.

"They say they think the world smells of fresh wallwash," said a wit.

The king inspected his building works, and congratulated his architect. The rest of the workmen kept a respectful distance. Then he returned, to the east bank, the world of the living, to worry about whether there would be a food shortage again this year.

The departing workmen gazed at the site where the serdab chapel would be placed with the statue of the king waiting for offerings for eternity.  A lonely little prison, it appeared to some of them.

"Come on," said the foreman impatiently. "Papyrus columns. What next?"

Silence fell on the funerary complex.

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