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.”
So, he smiled through the pain. That is a physical courage we rarely talk about—the courage to simply endure for the sake of others. Let’s talk about Abu Simbel. Ramses ordered two temples carved into a solid sandstone mountain on the Nubian border. The façade features four colossal seated statues of himself, each 66 feet tall. king ramses courage
He is walking into a trap.
Djed, Sekhem, Seneb —Stability, Power, Health. Long live the King. And Ramses is alone
Furthermore, the temple was oriented so that twice a year (on his birthday and his coronation day), the sun would penetrate the inner sanctuary to illuminate the statues of Ramses and the gods—except for Ptah, the god of darkness, who remained in shadow. Ramses literally rewrote the laws of the universe to prove he was divine. He turns to his fleeing charioteer and says,
For over six decades, he ruled the most sophisticated civilization on earth. But while historians love to debate his architectural achievements (Abu Simbel, the Ramesseum) and his staggering progeny (over 100 children), I want to talk about something deeper: his courage. Not the fleeting bravery of a soldier in a single battle, but the existential courage of a king who decided to become a legend while he was still breathing.