Three Novels of Ancient Egypt Khufu's Wisdom

  Only her top half could be seen. Those fortunate enough to be near her caught glimpses of her jet-black hair adorned with threads of shining silk as it fell about the radiant orb of her face and cascaded onto her shoulders in a halo of night, as though it were a divine crown. Her cheeks were like fresh roses and her delicate mouth was parted slightly to reveal teeth like jasmine petals in the sunlight set in a ring of cloves. Her dark, deep, heavy-lidded eyes had a glint in them that knew love as the creation knows its creator. Never before had a face been seen in which such beauty had chosen to take up lasting abode.

  The sight of her had everyone enthralled and stirred the waning hearts of tired old men. Fiery looks rained down on her from all directions, so hot they would have melted slate had they encountered it on their way. Sparks of loathing flew from the women's eyes, and in whispers the discussion went from mouth to mouth among those standing around her: “What an enchanting and seductive woman she is.”

  “Rhadopis. They call her the mistress of the island.”

  “Her beauty is overpowering. No heart can resist it.”

  “It brings only despair to him who beholds it.”

  “You are right. No sooner had I set eyes upon her than an untameable stirring arose in my breast. I was weighed down by the burdens of an oppressive tyranny, and feeling a devilish rebellion, my heart turned and shunned what was before me, and I was overcome by disappointment and unending shame.”

  “That is most regrettable. For I see her as a paragon of joy well worthy of worship.”

  “She is a calamitous evil.”

  “We are too weak to handle such ravishing beauty.”

  “Lord have mercy on her lovers!”

  “Do you not know that her lovers are the cream of the men of the kingdom?”

  “Truly?”

  “To love her is an obligation upon the notables of the upper classes, as though it were a patriotic duty.”

  “Her white palace was built by the brilliant architect Heni.”

  “And Ani, governor of the island of Biga, furnished it with works of art from Memphis and Thebes.”

  “How wonderful!”

  “And Henfer, the master sculptor, carved its statues and adorned its walls.”

  “Indeed he did, and General Tahu, commander of Pharaoh's guard, gave some of his priceless pieces.”

  “If all of them are competing for her affections, then who is the lucky man she will choose for herself?”

  “Do you think you'll find a lucky man in this unfortunate city?”

  “I do not think that woman will ever fall in love.”

  “How do you know? Maybe she will fall in love with a slave or an animal.”

  “Never. The strength of her beauty is colossal, and what need does strength have of love?”

  “Look at the hard, narrow eyes. She has not tasted love yet.”

  A woman who was listening to the conversation became annoyed. “She's nothing but a dancer,” she said, her voice full of spite. “She was brought up in a pit of depravity and corruption. Since she was a child she has given herself over to wantonness and seduction. She has learned to use her makeup skillfully and now takes on this enticing and deceptive form.”

  Her -words -were too much for one of the infatuated men.

  “Do not speak thus in front of the gods, woman,” he berated her. “Do you not know yet that her wondrous beauty is not the only -wealth the gods have endowed her -with? For Thoth has not been mean -with -wisdom and knowledge.”

  “Nonsense. What does she know about wisdom and knowledge -when she spends all her time seducing men?”

  “Every evening her palace receives a select group of politicians, wise men, and artists. It is no wonder then, as is widely known of her, that she understands wisdom more than most, is well versed in politics, and most discerning in matters of art.”

  “How old is she?” someone asked.

  “They say she is thirty.”

  “She cannot be a day over twenty-five.”

  “Let her be as old as she wishes. Her comeliness is ripe and irresistible, and seems destined never to fade.”

  “Where did she grow up?” inquired the asker again. “And where is she from?”

  “Only the gods know that. For me it is as if she has always been there in her white palace on the island of Biga.”

  All of a sudden a peculiar-looking woman cut through the assembled ranks. Her back was bent like a bow and she leaned on a thick stick. Her white hair was matted and disheveled, her fangs long and yellow, and her nose crooked. Her stern eyes emitted a fearsome light from beneath two graying eyebrows and she wore a long, flowing gown girded at the waist with a flaxen cord.

  “It is Daam,” cried those who saw her, “Daam, the sorceress!” She paid no heed to them as her bony feet carried her on her way. She claimed to be able to see the invisible world and to know the future. She would offer her supernatural power in exchange for a piece of silver, and those who gathered round her were either afraid of her or mocked her. On her way, the sorceress met a young man and offered to tell his fortune. The youth agreed, for if truth be told, he was drunk and staggering and his legs could hardly carry him. He pressed a piece of silver into her palm as he gazed at her with half-sleepy eyes.

  “How old are you, lad?” she asked him in her hoarse voice.

  “Twelve cups,” he answered, unaware of what he was saying.

  The crowd roared with laughter, but the woman was furious and threw away the piece of silver he had given her and went on her way, which never seemed to end. Suddenly another young man blocked her way, sneering: “What happenings await me, woman?” he asked her rudely.

  She looked at him a moment, angry and embittered, then said, “Rejoice! Your wife will betray you for the third time.”

  The people laughed and applauded her as the young man retreated in embarrassment, the arrow having been deflected to return and pierce his own breast. The sorceress walked on until she reached the courtesan's palanquin and, keen to test her generosity, she stopped before it, smiling slyly as she called to the woman sitting inside: “Shall I read your stars, O lady who is so carefully guarded?”

  The courtesan did not appear to have heard the voice of the sorceress.

  “My lady!” the old woman shouted. Rhadopis looked toward her, seemingly in panic, then turned her head quickly away, for anger had touched her.

  “Believe me,” the old woman told her, “there is none in all this clamoring crowd who has need of me today like you do,” whereupon one of the slaves approached the old woman and stood between her and the palanquin. The incident, despite its insignificance, would have aroused the interest of those standing nearby had not the shrill sound of a horn cut through the air. Immediately the soldiers lining the road raised their horns to their lips and blew a long continuous note, and all the people knew that Pharaoh's entourage had set off, and that soon Pharaoh would leave the palace on his way toward the temple of the Nile. Everyone forgot what they had been doing and gazed toward the road, necks craned, senses fine-tuned.

  Long minutes passed, then the vanguard of the army appeared marching in ranks to the strains of martial music. At their head was the garrison of Bilaq with their assorted war gear, marching behind their standard, which bore the image of a hawk. The soldiers were met with a wave of tumultuous applause.

  Then a hush fell over the crowd as a troop of infantry bearing lances and shields drew into view, their music infused with the spirit of the god Horus and their standard adorned with his image. Their lances were pointed straight up at the sky with geometrical precision, forming parallel lines in the air the length and breadth of the ranks.

  Next came the great battalion of archers with their bows and quivers of arrows marching behind their standard, which bore a royal staff. They took a long time to pass.

  Then in the distance, with a clattering and a jangling and a neighing of horses, the chariots appeared, moving in rows of ten, arranged so precisely they looked as if a pe
n had drawn them. Each chariot was drawn by two magnificent chargers and carried a charioteer with his sword and javelin, and an armored archer holding his bow in one hand and his quiver in the other. When they saw them, the spectators remembered the conquests of Nubia and Mount Sinai. They saw the troops in their mind's eye, swarming over the plains and down the valleys like vultures swooping from the sky, the enemy scattering before them in terror as destruction fell upon them. The crowd's excitement burned in their veins and their cries rent the heavens.

  Then the solemn cortege of Pharaoh appeared, led by the royal chariot, followed immediately by crescent formations of chariots in fives bearing princes and ministers with the chief priests, the thirty judges of the regions, the commanders of the army, and the governors of the provinces. Finally, a detachment of the royal guard with Tahu at their head brought up the rear.

  Pharaoh stood straight and tall in his chariot, solemn of mien like a granite statue that inclines neither right nor left, his eyes set firmly on the distant horizon, heedless of the great crowd and the cries ringing from the depths of their hearts.

  The double crown of Egypt was set upon his head, while in one hand he gripped the royal flail and in the other the scepter. Over his regal garments he wore a leopard skin cape in celebration of the religious festival.

  Hearts were filled with joy and excitement, and such was the din rising into the air that the birds in the sky flew away in fear. Rhadopis was carried away by the fervor and a sudden surge of life rushed through her, lighting up her face -with a radiant light as she clapped her tender hands.

  Then suddenly, above the noise of the crowd, one voice cried out in haste: “Long live His Excellency Khnumhotep!” Dozens of other voices echoed the call, which caused great unease and consternation, and the people looked round to see who could be so bold as to call out the prime minister's name in young Pharaoh's hearing and who had lent support to this audacious and unimaginable challenge.

  The cry left no noticeable trace and had not the slightest effect on any in the king's entourage, thus the procession continued on its way until at last it reached the temple hill. The chariots pulled up all at once and two princes carrying a cushion of ostrich feathers adorned with a cover of gold lace walked up to Pharaoh's chariot. The king stepped on to it and blew into a horn. The soldiers saluted and the musicians of the royal guard played the anthem of the sacred Nile as Pharaoh solemnly ascended the steps leading up the hill. He was followed by the great and mighty of his kingdom: generals, ministers, and governors, and at the door of the great temple waited the priests, laid in prostration before him. As Lord Chamberlain Sofkhatep announced the arrival of Pharaoh, the high priest of the temple rose to his feet and bowed, and hiding his eyes with his hands, spoke in a low voice: “The servant of the god of the sacred Nile is honored to extend humble and sincere greetings to our lord, Master of Upper and Lower Egypt, Son of Ra, Lord of the Radiant Ones.”

  Pharaoh extended the scepter and the high priest kissed it reverently. The priests stood up and fell into two rows so that Pharaoh might pass. His retinue followed him into the Great Hall of the Altar, which was lined on all sides with towering columns. They circled the sanctuary as the priests burned incense; its smell wafted through the temple and its smoke hovered over the heads lowered in reverence and humility. Some of the chamberlains brought in a bull that had been sacrificed and placed it on the altar as an offering and oblation. Then Pharaoh recited the customary words: “I stand before you, O Sacred God, having purified myself and presented this sacrifice as an offering to you, that you may bestow your bounty on the land of this good valley and its faithful people.”

  The priests repeated the prayer in resonant, moving voices that overflowed with faith and piety as they raised their faces to the sky, their arms open wide. All present repeated the prayer, and as the sound of their voices carried outside the temple, the people began to recite it until before long, not a single tongue remained that had not uttered the prayer of the sacred Nile. Then the king walked on, accompanied by the high priest and followed by the men of the kingdom, into the Hall of Columns with its three parallel vaults. They stood in two rows, with the king and the servant of the god in the middle, reciting the anthem of the sacred Nile in trembling voices, their hearts astir in their breasts, as the sound of their voices echoed through the grave and solemn blackness of the temple.

  The high priest ascended the steps leading to the Eternal Chamber. As he neared the door to the Holy of Holies, he took out the sacred key and opened the great door, then, turning to one side, prostrated himself in prayer. The king followed and entered the divine chamber where the statue of the Nile in its celestial barge resided, then closed the door behind him. The large chamber with its high ceiling was dark and imposing. Near the curtain, which was drawn over the statue of the god, candles were set on tables of shining gold. The solemn aura of the place penetrated deep into the great king's heart, and his senses grew dull. Reverently, he approached the holy curtain and pulled it aside with his hand. Then, bending his back, which was not wont to bend, he genuflected on his right knee and kissed the foot of the statue. He retained his dignity, but the signs of worldly glory and pride were gone from his face and its surface now wore the pale hue of piety and humility. Pharaoh prayed for a long time and, absorbed in his worship, he forgot his ancient glory and worldly might.

  When he had finished he kissed the sacred foot once again, stood up, and drew shut the holy curtain. He withdrew to the door with his face toward the god until he breathed the air of the outer hall and then closed the door behind him.

  The congregation greeted Pharaoh with prayers and walked behind him to the Great Hall of the Altar, then followed him out of the temple, up to the brim of the hill that looked out over the Nile. When the people thronging the decks of the boats saw Pharaoh and his court, they started to cheer and wave their standards and brandish their staffs in the air. The high priest stepped forward to read the traditional address and, unrolling the sheet of papyrus in his hands, he read out in a resounding voice: “Peace be upon you, O Nile, whose inundation fills the valley, proclaiming life and joy. For months you reside in the Netherworld, and when you hear the beseeching of your servants, your great heart is filled with compassion for them. You come out of the darkness into the light, to flow abundantly down the belly of the valley. The earth bursts forth with life and soon the plants are trembling with joy and the desert is consumed beneath a carpet of velvet. The gardens are in bloom and the fields are awash with green. The birds are singing and all hearts are cheered with ecstasy and joy, for the naked are clothed and the hungry are fed, the thirsty are given to drink, and maidens and young men are joined in matrimony. The land of Egypt is consumed in happiness and delight. Come, glory be to You, come, glory be to You.”

  The temple priests recited the anthem of the Nile to the strains of lyres, flutes, and pipes, and a sweet and mellow rhythm flowed from the drums.

  As the music drifted on the wind, Prince Nay approached Pharaoh and handed him a roll of papyrus sealed with wax, containing the anthem of the sacred Nile. The king took it and raised it to his forehead. Then he let it fall into the Nile where the bouncing waves carried it noisily to the north.

  Pharaoh proceeded back down the hill and stepped into his chariot and the procession returned as it had come, effusing greatness and glory, to be hailed by a million hearts of his loyal subjects, all sharing in the buzz of excitement and the intoxication of joy.

  THE SANDAL

  PHARAOH'S PROCESSION returned to the royal seraglio, with the king managing to maintain his dignity and bearing until he was alone. Only then did the anger show on his handsome face and unnerve the slave girls who were removing his apparel. His jugular vein was swollen with blood and his muscles tense. He was furious beyond belief and extremely volatile. He would not rest until those responsible were severely punished. The insolent cry was still ringing in his ears. He thought it a brazen intrusion upon his desires and he cursed and raged
and vowed to wreak havoc and destruction.

  Custom dictated that he should wait a whole hour before he met the grandees of the kingdom, who had come from all over the country to attend the festival of the Nile, but he did not have the patience and he rushed like a swirling wind to the queen's chambers and flung open the door. Queen Nitocris was sitting with her handmaidens, a look of peace and contentment glowing in her clear eyes. When the maidens saw the king and beheld the anger blazing in his face they rose to their feet nervous and confused, bowed to him and the queen, and withdrew in great haste. The queen remained sitting for a moment, looking at him intently with her peaceful eyes. Then she rose gracefully to her feet, walked over to him and, standing on her tiptoes, kissed his shoulder, asking, ‘Are you angry also, my lord?”

  He was in dire need of someone to talk to about the fire ignited in his blood, and was glad of her question.

  “As you see, Nitocris,” he declared.

  The queen realized immediately, knowing his ways so well, that her first duty was to soothe his anger whenever it raged. She smiled and said softly, “It is more becoming of a king to behave reasonably.”

  He shrugged his broad shoulders dismissively, saying, “Are you asking me to behave reasonably, Queen?” he scoffed.

  “Reasonableness is a false and insincere garment in -which the weak masquerade.”

  The queen was clearly pained. “My lord,” she asked, “why are you uneasy about virtue?”

  “Am I truly Pharaoh? And do I not enjoy youth and strength? How then should I desire and not obtain that which I desire? How can my eyes look at the lands of my kingdom, and a slave blocks my way and tells me, ‘That will never belong to you'?”

  She put her hand on his arm and tried to lead him into the diwan, but he moved away and began to pace up and down the room muttering angrily to himself.

  In a voice that betrayed deep sorrow, the queen said, “Do not picture things in this way. Always remember that the priests are your faithful subjects and that the temple lands were granted over to them by our forefathers. Now those lands have become the inalienable right of the clergy and you want to take them back, my lord. It is no wonder they are uneasy.”