Latest / Ramses the Great: Egypt's Most Powerful Pharaoh — Fexingo History / Ramses the Great's Scribe and the Battle of Kadesh Propaganda
Transcript
- Lucas: So we've talked a lot about Ramses' battles, his chariots, his monuments. But one thing we haven't really touched on is the man who helped craft his image — the royal scribe. And I'm thinking specifically of a guy named Pentaur. Luna: Pentaur — that name sounds familiar. Is he the one who wrote the poem about Kadesh? Lucas: Exactly. The so-called 'Poem of Pentaur' is the most famous piece of Egyptian propaganda from the New Kingdom. It's a long epic that describes the Battle of Kadesh as a glorious victory for Ramses — even though, by any objective measure, it was more of a draw. And Pentaur was the scribe who put it into words, probably working under Ramses' direct supervision. Luna: So he was basically a spin doctor for the pharaoh. Lucas: In a way, yes. But in ancient Egypt, scribes were far more than that. They were the literate elite — the ones who could read and write hieroglyphs and hieratic script. They ran the bureaucracy, recorded taxes, drafted diplomatic letters, and composed temple inscriptions. A royal scribe like Pentaur would have been one of the most educated men in the kingdom. Lucas: And we know his name because it appears at the end of the Kadesh inscriptions — he literally signed his work. That's rare in Egyptian art; most artists and scribes remained anonymous. So Pentaur was clearly proud of what he wrote, and Ramses apparently wanted him recognized. Luna: Where exactly can we see the Poem of Pentaur today? Lucas: It's inscribed on the walls of several temples — the Ramesseum, Luxor Temple, Abu Simbel, and a few others. The longest version is at the Ramesseum, Ramses' mortuary temple on the west bank of Thebes. It's carved in beautiful hieroglyphs, and it tells the story of how Ramses single-handedly rallied his army after being ambushed by the Hittites near the Orontes River. Lucas: The poem describes Ramses calling out to the god Amun-Re, and then charging into the enemy lines in his chariot, slaughtering Hittites left and right. It's incredibly vivid — almost like an action movie. But the Hittite records from Hattusa tell a very different story. Luna: They claim the Egyptians were defeated? Lucas: Not exactly defeated, but they certainly don't claim a great Egyptian victory. The Hittite version says that Ramses was tricked into walking into an ambush, and that only the arrival of Egyptian reinforcements saved him from disaster. In fact, both sides ended up claiming victory — which is usually a sign that the battle was inconclusive. Luna: So Pentaur's poem is basically a work of fiction? Lucas: Not entirely fiction — it's more like a heavily edited version of events. There were real elements: the ambush did happen, Ramses did fight bravely, and the Egyptian army did survive. But the poem exaggerates Ramses' role, downplays the Hittite strength, and omits the fact that the Egyptians lost the element of surprise and suffered heavy casualties. It's propaganda in its purest form. Lucas: And it worked. For centuries, the official Egyptian version was accepted as fact. It wasn't until modern archaeologists discovered the Hittite archives at Hattusa that we got the other side of the story. Luna: Scribes like Pentaur must have had enormous power — they controlled the narrative. Lucas: Absolutely. In fact, the word 'scribes' in ancient Egyptian, sesh, literally means 'to draw' or 'to write', but it also carried connotations of authority. Scribes were the ones who recorded the pharaoh's deeds for eternity — so they effectively decided what history would remember. And Ramses, more than any other pharaoh, understood the importance of that. Lucas: Think about it: he built more statues, more temples, and more inscriptions than almost any other ruler. He wanted his name to be immortal. And scribes like Pentaur were the tool he used to achieve that. Luna: How did someone become a scribe in ancient Egypt? Was it like going to school? Lucas: Very much so. Boys from wealthy families — and occasionally girls, though it was rare — would start training around age five. They'd go to a school attached to a temple or a government office, where they'd learn to read and write by copying texts over and over again. The curriculum was tough: they memorized lists of words, composed letters, and studied classic works like the 'Instructions of Amenemope'. Lucas: A scribe's tool kit was simple but essential: a wooden palette with two depressions for black and red ink, a bundle of reed pens, a water pot, and a bag of ground pigment. Black ink was made from carbon, red ink from ochre — and red was used for headings, important names, and sometimes for curses. Luna: So red ink was like the highlighter of ancient Egypt. Lucas: Exactly! And scribes were taught to write beautifully — bad handwriting was a mark of shame. There's even a famous text called the 'Satire of the Trades' that warns boys that if they don't become scribes, they'll end up as miserable fishermen or bricklayers. It was a way to motivate students. Luna: Speaking of motivation — you know, this episode, like all our episodes, takes a lot of research and time to put together. And I know we say it sometimes, but if you're getting value from these conversations and you want to help us keep making them ad-free, one really easy way is to buy us a coffee. Lucas: Yeah, that's right. It's the smallest thing — honestly, if today's episode was worth a coffee to you, that's the link: buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. All lowercase. No pressure at all, but it genuinely helps us keep going. Luna: And we really appreciate it. Now — back to Pentaur. Did he write anything else besides the Kadesh poem? Lucas: We're not sure. The name Pentaur appears on a few other inscriptions, but they're mostly fragments. It's possible he was part of a team of scribes working on Ramses' building projects, composing the texts that were carved on temple walls. In fact, there's a famous scene at the Ramesseum showing the pharaoh's scribes at work, counting booty from battle — it's a rare depiction of scribes in action. Lucas: One interesting detail: in the same complex, there's also a text called the 'Bulletin', which is a more straightforward, less poetic account of Kadesh. It lists the Egyptian forces and the order of battle, and it's much more factual. Scholars think the Bulletin was meant for military audiences, while the Poem was for public consumption. Luna: So Ramses had a two-pronged propaganda strategy: one for the troops, one for the people. Lucas: Exactly. The Bulletin gives you the impression of a well-organized army that fought bravely but didn't necessarily win. The Poem gives you the hero narrative. Together, they create a powerful image of Ramses as both a capable commander and a divinely favored king. Lucas: And this is where the god Amun-Re comes in. In the poem, Ramses prays to Amun-Re before charging, and the god answers him, saying 'I am with you, I am your father, my hand is with you.' That divine endorsement was crucial — it turned a near-disaster into a demonstration of Ramses' special relationship with the gods. Luna: So the scribe wasn't just writing history; he was writing theology. Lucas: Precisely. Scribes like Pentaur were the architects of the pharaoh's divine image. Without them, Ramses would have been just another king. But with their words carved in stone, he became Ramses the Great. Luna: It's strange to think that so much of what we know about ancient Egypt comes from these carefully crafted texts. Lucas: It is — and that's why we have to read them critically. But at the same time, the Poem of Pentaur is an incredible work of literature. Even if it's biased, it gives us insight into how Egyptians saw their king, how they understood war, and how they used writing to shape reality. And that's valuable in its own way.