Chapter 20: Trusting Amun Is Actually Useless
For Ramesses, what was unfolding before his eyes was nothing short of a nightmare.
Rewinding a bit: earlier that morning, after a night's rest, Ramesses emerged from his tent and first saw Kadesh shrouded in thick mist.
Without the Hittites present, the towering walls of Kadesh were the only thing that could threaten the Egyptian army—a consensus across his ranks.
Yet the city's location was extremely advantageous for the defenders. It likely housed several thousand soldiers, and even with his own troops and foreign mercenaries, he commanded fewer than ten thousand. The Ra Legion would soon arrive, but after their long march, they could not immediately engage in battle.
Thus, the Pharaoh decided to wait until the remaining Set and Ptah legions arrived and were organized. Then, using five legions, he would attack from four directions simultaneously, diluting the enemy forces and minimizing the losses in the siege.
Ramesses inspected his camp. Under officers' orders, soldiers checked weapons and cleaned the camp. Anyone out of uniform would be punished. Neither Pharaoh nor officers would tolerate a sloppy military formation.
However, when Ramesses passed Hikigaya's tent, he stopped.
It wasn't that he hadn't considered invoking the power of the gods—indeed, divine presence was close at hand—but as he had said before, if one could not deliver victory as an offering to the gods…
Why would the gods protect them?
If he were a god, he would abandon such a worthless follower.
Thinking this, Ramesses relaxed his expression, stepped forward, and continued inspecting the camp.
By noon, the messenger sent to the Ra Legion returned with good news: the delayed legion had crossed the Orontes River, passed the second ford near Kadesh, and entered visual range of the Amun Legion.
But at that moment, Ramesses heard thunder.
Looking up, the sky was clear—no clouds in sight.
Gradually, the Pharaoh felt the ground tremble, as if the entire Kadesh region quivered under a terrifying sound.
Soon, he knew exactly what it meant.
Hundreds, even thousands, of Hittite chariots charged out from the forests east of the Orontes River. In an instant, they crossed the second ford and crashed into the flank of the Ra Legion, right before the eyes of the Amun Legion.
The chariots easily sent soldiers flying. Limbs and screams scattered across the battlefield. Those who dodged the first impact were soon crushed by the following waves of Hittite chariots.
Behind the chariots came even more Hittite infantry—savage warriors from the highlands, yelling as they surged along the chariot path toward the ford.
Hittites attacked en masse across the hills, while the Egyptian corpses began clogging the ford.
Ramesses saw Muwatalli—the Hittite king—leading his chariot corps, ruthlessly trampling the Ra Legion before his eyes.
Finally realizing the difference between reckless advance and blitzkrieg, Ramesses ordered the Amun Legion to prepare to defend. But before the order could take effect, the Ra Legion collapsed completely.
The fleeing remnants of the Ra Legion stormed the camp, scattering the Amun soldiers who had just assembled outside the perimeter. Some even reached near Ramesses himself.
Ramesses didn't even have time to scold them. The fastest Hittite chariots, following the paths carved out by fleeing soldiers, entered the camp. The Amun Legion infantry suffered the same fate as the Ra Legion: within breaths, row after row fell. Hundreds were impaled by Hittite spears, more were trampled and thrown aside, and even many Egyptian chariots, which should have been powerful, were overturned before they could mobilize.
This was what unfolded before Ramesses' eyes. His corps, powerless, was crushed. Survivors scattered like frightened rabbits, clinging to life.
From the north came the sounds of battle—another Hittite army advanced. Their chariots were fewer than the southern ones, but their infantry was vast.
By all appearances, the Egyptian army under Kadesh was finished.
And Ramesses, the ambitious Pharaoh, was likely to die here. With the young Pharaoh's fall, Egypt would again face invasion by the peoples of Asia.
"I… I've lost?" Ramesses muttered. Anger quickly spread through him. He gritted his teeth, eyes fixed on the Hittites flaunting their power before him, biting his lips until they bled.
Some Hittite chariots regrouped, moving toward Ramesses.
"Pharaoh!" a servant shouted. "On this day of battle, you defend Egypt! Your courage befits your sacred blood! But the enemy surrounds us! Please, flee!"
Ramesses looked at the servant with disdain.
"Leave!" he said. "If you have already grown fearful, remove yourself from my sight!"
He glanced at his personal guards, the pirates who had once kidnapped him. Faced with the Hittite chariots, they showed no fear, eyes sharp, waiting for orders.
Behind them were more mercenaries, also unafraid.
This amused Ramesses—Egyptian soldiers, sworn to defend Pharaoh, had fled, while foreign mercenaries, motivated by gold, still protected him.
They could flee, but he could not. The kingdom could have fearful soldiers or generals, but the Ramesses lineage could not have a fearful Pharaoh.
He donned the blue crown, put on armor inlaid with bronze plates, and calmly draped his warhorse with red, blue, and green barding.
He mounted the gilded, magnificent chariot, flanked by kneeling statues of Asians and Nubians, symbols of Egypt's authority and dominion over north and south—a shattered dream in the making.
The chariot held his weapons: two quivers—one full of arrows, the other with a bow and Egyptian longsword.
A personal guard climbed aboard to serve as the Pharaoh's charioteer.
The mercenaries drew their weapons, staring ahead.
A lion's roar sounded—his battle companion, protector and now comrade.
Barriers were moved aside, leaving a clear path for the chariot.
Ahead, deafening sounds rose as the Hittite chariots charged again amid flying sand and debris.
Ramesses looked to the sun—Amun, the hidden god of light. No one knew the deity's true form; in fact, Ramesses himself did not truly revere Amun.
He had built great pylons and mined colossal obelisks to glorify Amun, but now it seemed utterly useless.
He did not look back at his tents—there was no need. He was ashamed to claim the protection of the god of war.
He would not blame others. If dying for Egypt was his fate, so be it.
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