When you face your next impossible situation—when you are surrounded, like Ramses at Kadesh; when your body betrays you; when the world tells you to retreat—remember the old man with the fused spine and the crooked smile. He didn't win because he was the strongest. He won because he refused to stop being Ramses .
The Egyptian royal bodyguard is dead. The scribes are running. The cooks are grabbing spears. king ramses courage
Modern CT scans of his mummy reveal severe dental abscesses, ankylosing spondylitis (a painful fusion of the spine), and advanced arthritis. By the time he was 60, he was stooped, his hips were riddled with bone spurs, and his arteries were clogged. When you face your next impossible situation—when you
And Ramses is alone. Here is where courage stops being a concept and becomes a noun. According to the Poem of Pentaur (the official Egyptian battle report, which, yes, is propaganda, but propaganda often hides a grain of terrifying truth), Ramses realizes he has no reinforcements coming. He turns to his fleeing charioteer and says, “What is this you have done, my princes? Is there one among you who can seize a bow? My infantry and chariotry have deserted me.” The Egyptian royal bodyguard is dead
Djed, Sekhem, Seneb —Stability, Power, Health. Long live the King.
The Hittites crash through the Ra division, scattering it like leaves. They turn on the Ptah division, still marching in the rear. Within minutes, the Egyptian army is being annihilated. Soldiers are throwing down their weapons and fleeing. The Hittites charge straight into Ramses’ camp.
When we think of ancient Egyptian pharaohs, we often picture gold, opulence, and god-like divinity. We imagine towering statues and glittering tombs. But if you strip away the jewels and the monuments, what remains is the raw, beating heart of a man who stared into the abyss of war, time, and mortality—and refused to blink.