Three Novels of Ancient Egypt

The queen spoke in her measured tone, “I believe that you would not request an audience except for the most urgent of matters. For that reason I did not hesitate to receive you.”

“May Your Majesty's wisdom be exalted, for the matter is indeed most grave, concerning as it does the very essence of national policy.”

The queen waited silently while the man mustered his strength. Then he continued, “Your Majesty, I am colliding with strong obstacles such that I have come to fear that I am not able to carry out my duty in a way that pleases both my conscience and His Majesty, Pharaoh.”

He was silent for a moment and snatched a quick look at the queen's calm face as if to examine the effect his words had had on her, or to await a word of encouragement for him to elaborate. The queen understood the meaning of his hesitation and said, “Speak, Prime Minister, I am listening to you.”

“I am colliding with these obstacles,” he said, “as a result of the decree issued by the king to seize most of the temple properties. The priests are troubled and have resorted to petitions which they have obediently submitted to Pharaoh, for they know that the temple estates were granted by the pharaohs favorably and in good faith. They are concerned that the revoking of the privilege will be greatly resented.”

The prime minister was silent for a moment then continued, “The clergy, Your Majesty, are the king's soldiery in time of peace. Peace needs men of sterner mettle than men of war, and among them are teachers, physicians, and preachers, while others are ministers and governors. They would not hesitate to give up their properties gladly if the harshness of war or famine required them to do so, but…” The man hesitated for a moment, then, lowering his voice, he continued, “But what saddens them is to see this wealth spent in other ways….”

He did not want to overstep this careful limit of allusion, for he had no doubt that she understood everything and knew everything. But she did not comment on his words, and seeing no alternative but to present to her the petitions, he said, “These petitions, Your Majesty, express the feelings of the high priests of the temples. My lord, the king, has refused to look at them. Could my lady peruse them, for the complainants are a portion of your loyal people and deserve your consideration.”

The queen accepted the petitions, and the prime minister placed them on a large table and stood silently, his head lowered. The queen made no promises, nor had he expected her to, but he was optimistic that the petitions had been received. Then she gave him permission to depart and he withdrew with his hands over his eyes.

On his way back, the prime minister said to himself, “The queen is extremely sad. Perhaps her sadness will serve our just cause.”

Nitocris

The prime minister disappeared through the door and the queen — was left alone in the large hall. She leaned her crowned head against the back of the throne, closed her eyes, and sighed deeply. The breath came out hot and stifled with sadness and pain. How long she had been patient and how much she had suffered. Not even those nearest to her knew of the tongues of flame that scorched her innards without mercy, for she had continued to regard people with a face like the Sphinx, calm and shrouded in silence.

There was nothing about the matter that she did not know. She had witnessed the tragedy from the first scene. She had seen the king topple into the abyss, fall prey to an untamable passion, and rush into the arms of that woman, — whose ravishing beauty every tongue extolled, without a thought for anyone else. A poisoned arrow had pierced her self-respect and wound its way into her deepest, inmost emotions. But she had not flinched, and a violent struggle had arisen in her breast between the woman with a heart and the queen with a crown. The experience had proven that like her father, she was unyielding; the crown had tempered the heart and pride had smothered love. She had withdrawn within her sad self, a prisoner behind curtains, and so she had lost the battle and emerged from it broken winged, not having fired a single arrow from her bow.

The real irony was that they were still newly wed, though that short time had been sufficient to reveal the violent defiance and capricious passion that his soul harbored, for he had wasted no time in filling the harem with countless slave girls and concubines from Egypt, Nubia, and the lands of the North. She had paid no attention to them, for none of them had driven him away from her and she had continued to be his queen, and the queen of his heart, until that enchanting woman had appeared on his horizon and so fatally attracted him, altogether taking over his emotions and his mind, and totally distracting him from his wife, his harem, and his loyal advisers. Hope had played with her deceptively for a time and then given her over to despair, despair shrouded in pride, and she felt her heart imbibing the agony of death.