Three Novels of Ancient Egypt

Obeying his lord's command, Tarn saluted and departed — with confusion and fear drawn upon his countenance. The three men were left standing there alone, ashen-faced. Sofkhatep broke the silence — with a plea. “I beseech you, my lord, refrain from going to the temple today.”

Pharaoh could not stomach such advice and, knitting his brow in anger, he said, “Am I to flee at the first call that goes up?”

The prime minister said, “My lord, the populace are — worked into a frenzy. We must take time to reflect.”

“My heart tells me that our plan is headed for certain failure, and if I give in today I will have lost my dignity forever.”

“And the people's anger, my lord?”

“It will die down and abate when they see me cut through their ranks in my chariot like a towering obelisk, facing peril head on, not surrendering or submitting.”

Pharaoh began to pace up and down the room, irascible and in a violent temper. Sofkhatep was silent, concealing his own rage. He turned to Tahu as if calling for help, but it was clear from the commander's ghostlike complexion, distant eyes, and heavy eyelids that he was swamped by his own woes. A profound silence fell over them, and all that could be heard were the king's footsteps.

A court chamberlain hurried nervously into the room, breaking their stillness. He bowed to the king and said, “An officer of the police requests permission to be granted an audience, my lord.”

The king granted him permission, and he cast his two men a look to ascertain the effect of the chamberlain's words on their demeanor. He found them perturbed and ill at ease, and a wry smile formed on his lips as he shrugged his broad shoulders disdainfully. The officer entered, breathless from the effort and commotion. His uniform — was caked — with dust and his helmet battered and askew. It did not bode well. The man saluted and before being permitted to speak, said, “My lord! The citizenry is engaged in violent battle with the constables of the police. Many men have been killed on both sides, but they will overpower us if we do not receive substantial reinforcements from the pharaonic guard.”

Sofkhatep and Tahu were horrified. They looked at Pharaoh and saw his lips were trembling with rage. “By every god and goddess in the pantheon,” he roared, “these folk have not come to celebrate the festival!”

The officer had more to say: “Our spies have reported, my lord, that there are priests inciting the masses on the outskirts of the city, claiming that Pharaoh is using an imaginary war in the South as a pretext to muster an army with which to crush the people. The people, believing them, have grown enraged. If the police had not stood in their way they would have stormed the approaches to the sacred palace.”

Pharaoh bellowed like thunder, “Doubt gives way to certainty. Pernicious treason has come to light. It is them, declaring their aggression and initiating the attack.”

These were strange and unbelievable words that assailed their ears, and it appeared upon all their faces as if they asked incredulously, “Is this truly Pharaoh? And this the people of Egypt?” Tahu could stand it no longer, and said to his lord, “My lord, this is a baneful day, as if the forces of Darkness thrust it unnoticed into the cycle of time. It began with bloodshed and the Lord knows best how it will end. Command me to do my duty.”

“What will you do, Tahu?” Pharaoh asked him.

“I will deploy the men-at-arms on the fortified defenses and I will lead out the company of chariots to meet the mob before they overcome the police and force their way into the square and the palace.”

Pharaoh smiled mysteriously and was quiet for a while, then in a solemn voice, he said, “I will lead them myself.”

Sofkhatep was aghast. “My lord,” he blurted out.

The king struck his chest aggressively with his hands, saying, “This palace has been a stronghold and a temple for thousands of years. It will not become the base objective of every rebel who cares to raise his voice in protest.”

The king removed the leopard skin and, throwing it aside in disgust, rushed into his chamber to don his martial attire. Sofkhatep was fast losing his nerve, and sensing dread and disaster, he turned to Tahu and in a commanding tone, said, “Commander, we have no time to lose. Be gone and make ready to defend the palace and await the orders that come to you.”

The commander left the room followed by the police officer, while the prime minister waited for the king.