Three Novels of Ancient Egypt

He leaned forward and kissed her head. Then he turned to the statues of his parents, bowed to them, and left.

He found Sofkhatep waiting in the outer lobby, motionless like a statue worn down since time immemorial. When he saw his lord, life stirred within him and he followed in silence, construing the king's exit to his own convenience and said, “My lord's appearance will instill a spirit of zeal in their valiant hearts.”

The king did not answer him. They strode down the steps together into the long colonnade that ran down the garden to the courtyard. He sent for Tahu and waited in silence. At that moment, his heart was suddenly drawn to the south-east, where Biga lay, and he sighed from the depths of his heart. He had said farewell to everything except the person he loved the most. So, would he breathe his final breath before setting eyes upon Rhadopis's face and hearing her voice for the last time? He felt a poignant longing in his heart and a deep sadness. Tahu's voice saluting roused him from his troubled trance, and instantly, as if pushed by an irresistible power, he asked about the way to Biga, saying, “Is the Nile safe?”

His face drawn and drained of color, the commander replied, “No, my lord. They attempted to attack us from the rear in armed barges, but our small fleet repelled them without much effort. The palace will never be taken from that direction.”

It was not the palace that worried the king. For that he bowed his head and his eyes clouded over. He would die before he cast a farewell glance upon that face, for which he had sold the world and all its glory. What was Rhadopis doing at this grievous hour? Had news reached her that her hopes were dashed, or did she wander still in vales of happiness, waiting impatiently for him to return?

Time did not permit him to surrender to his thoughts, and consigning his pains to his heart, he said to Tahu in a commanding tone, “Order your men to abandon the walls, cease fighting, and return to their barracks.”

Tahu was stunned with amazement and Sofkhatep, unable to believe his ears, said with some irritation, “But the people will break down the gate at any minute.”

Tahu stood there, showing no sign of moving, so the king roared in a voice like thunder that rang terrifyingly down the colonnade, “Do as I command.”

Tahu departed in a daze to effect the king's order, while Pharaoh walked forward with deliberate steps toward the palace courtyard. At the end of the colonnade he met with the company of chariots that had been deployed there in rows. Officers and men had seen him and their swords — were drawn in salute. The king summoned the company commander and said to him, “Take your company back to its barracks and remain there until you receive further orders.”

The commander saluted and, running back to his company, gave the order to the soldiers in a powerful voice. The chariots moved quickly and in orderly fashion back to their barracks in the south wing of the palace. Sofkhatep's limbs were trembling, and his feeble legs could hardly carry him. He had understood what the king intended to do, but he was unable to utter a single word.

The men-at-arms quit their positions in compliance with the dreadful order, and coming down from the walls and towers, they fell in under their standards and ran quickly back to their barracks behind their officers. The walls were now empty, and the courtyard and colonnades were deserted. Even the force of regular guards, whose duty it was to guard the palace during peacetime, had left.

The king remained standing at the entrance to the colonnade, with Sofkhatep to his right. Tahu came back out of breath and stood on Pharaoh's left, with a look upon his face like that of a fearsome specter. Both men wished to plead with the king and warmly beseech him, but the harsh look frozen upon his face dissipated their courage and they were compelled to silence. The king turned to them and said, “Why are you waiting with me?”

The two men were filled with great fear, and all Tahu could do was to utter a word of fervent sympathy: “My lord.”

As for Sofkhatep, he said with unusual calmness, “If my lord orders me to forsake him I will obey his order without question, but I will put an end to my life immediately thereafter.”

Tahu sighed with relief, as if the old man had come upon the solution that had stubbornly evaded himself, and he mumbled, “You have spoken well, Prime Minister.”

Pharaoh was silent, and did not say a word.