Three Novels of Ancient Egypt

There were times when madness coursed through her veins and a fleeting light shone in her eyes. She wanted to jump up and thrash about and avenge her broken heart, then quickly she would say to herself with great scorn, “How can it be right for Nitocris to compete with a woman who sells her body for pieces of gold?” Her blood would cool down and the sadness would freeze in her heart like deadly poison in the stomach.

But today it had been proven to her that there were hearts other than hers suffering pain as a result of the king's irresponsibility. Here was Khnumhotep complaining to her of his concerns, and telling her quite openly, “It is not right that the property of the temples should be seized so that Rhadopis the dancer can squander it.” Moreover, the cream of the wise men believed in what he was saying. Should she not come out of her silence? If she did not speak now, then when was she supposed to cure his madness with her wisdom? It pained her that these whispered grumblings should reach the unshakeable throne. She felt that her duty required her to remove the apprehensions and to restore some semblance of order. What did her pride matter? She would step on it. She resolved to move forward with steadfast steps along the path of equanimity, with the help of the gods.

The queen was relieved with this line of thought that had come about as a result of her wisdom and inner conviction. Her former stubbornness disappeared, having persevered long and desperately, and now she was firmly resolved to confront the king with strength and sincerity.

She left the hall and returned to her royal chamber, and spent the remainder of the day in thought and contemplation. During the night her sleep was intermittent and fraught with torment, and she was desperate for noon to come, for that was when the king awoke after his busy night. Feeling no compunction, she walked confidently over to the king's quarters. Her unusual journey caused some commotion among the guards, and they saluted her.

“Where is His Majesty the King?” she asked one of them.

“In his private quarters, Your Majesty,” replied the man reverently.

She walked slowly to the room where the king spent time on his own, and passing through the large door, she found him sitting in the center of the room a good forty feet from the entrance. The chamber was filled with works of art and opulence of indescribable beauty. The king was not expecting to see her and it had been several days since they had last met. He rose to his feet in surprise and greeted her with a nervous smile, and motioned to her to sit down. “May the gods bring you happiness, Nitocris. If I had known you wanted to see me I would have come to you,” he said.

The queen sat silently and said to herself, “How does he know I did not want to meet him all this time?” then she directed her words to him. “I do not want to disturb you, Brother. I have no objection coming to you so long as it is duty which moves me.”

The king paid no attention to her words because he was feeling acutely distressed, for her coming and her expressionless face had moved him. “I am embarrassed, Nitocris,” he said.

She was surprised that he should say so. It had irked her slightly to see him so happy and in such good health, like a radiant flower, and despite her self-composure she was agitated. “Nothing hurts me more than your being embarrassed.”

It was the most delicate insinuation but it irritated him and changed his mood. He bit his lip and said, “Sister, men are subject to oppressive desires, and may fall prey to one of them.”

His admission struck cruelly at her pride and feelings, and she forgot about being reasonable and spoke honestly, “By the gods, it saddens me that you, Pharaoh, should complain of oppressive desires.”

The irascible king felt the sting of her words and was roused to anger. The blood rushed to his head, and he shot to his feet, his face boding evil. The queen was afraid that his anger at her would spoil the anger on behalf of which she had come, and she regretted what she had said. “It is you who drives me to say such things, Brother,” she said hopefully, “but that is not why I have come. Your anger no doubt will wax doubly when I tell you that I have come to you to discuss grave matters which touch upon the politics of the kingdom upon whose throne we sit together.”

He suppressed his rage and asked her in a quieter voice, “What is it you wish to speak about, Queen?”

The queen regretted that the tone of the conversation had not set a suitable atmosphere for her purpose, but she saw no way out. “The temple estates,” she said without further ado.

The king scowled. “Did you say the temple estates?” he yelled angrily. “I call them the priests’ estates.”

“May your will be done, Your Majesty. Changing the name changes nothing of the matter.”

“Do you not know that I hate to have that phrase repeated to me?”

“I am trying to do what others cannot. My intentions are good.”