Three Novels of Ancient Egypt

During this time violent and crushing blows had slammed into the great gate of the palace. No one had been bold enough to scale the walls, as if they were afraid, having been unsettled by the garrison's sudden withdrawal and imagining some mortal trap had been set for them. So they directed all their force at the gate, — which — was unable to — withstand their pressure for long. The entire structure was wrought with convulsions as the bolts burst open and it came down with a mighty thud that sent violent shock waves through the earth. The clamoring hordes flooded in and spread throughout the courtyard like dust in a summer wind, surging forward violently as if engaged in combat. Fearing some unseen danger, those in front slowed down as much as they could, but still edging forward until they came within sight of the royal palace and their eyes fell upon the one standing at the entrance to the colonnade, the double crown of Egypt upon his head. They recognized him instantly and were taken aback by the sight of him standing there alone in front of them. The feet of those at the head of the mob clung fast to the ground and they raised their hands to halt the surging flood of people pouring down behind them, shouting into the throng, “Slowly, slowly.”

A faint hope flickered in Sofkhatep's heart when he saw the fear that came over those at the front of the crowd, paralyzing their legs and causing them to avert their eyes. In his battered and exhausted heart he expected a miracle that would take the place of his black thoughts. But among the throng there were some conniving deviously against the wishes of Sofkhatep's heart, fearing that their victory might turn to defeat and their cause be lost forever. A hand reached out for its bow, nocked an arrow, took aim at Pharaoh and loosed the string. The arrow leapt out from the midst of the crowd and slammed into Pharaoh's upper chest, no power or wish could deflect it. Sofk-hatep cried out as if it were he who had been hit. He held out his hands to support the king and they met Tahu's cold hands halfway. The king pursed his lips but no moan came out, nor any sigh. Knitting his brow, he mustered what strength remained in him to maintain his balance. Pain was drawn over his face and he quickly felt weak and drained. His eyes clouded over and he gave himself up to the arms of his two trusted men.

A terrible hush fell upon the front ranks and a heavy silence bound their tongues. Their panic-stricken eyes darted wary glances at the great man propped up by his two counselors, as he fingered the spot — where the arrow had entered his chest, and warm blood flowed copiously from the wound. It was as if they could not believe their eyes, or as if they had attacked the palace for some other goal than this.

A voice from the rear tore through the silence, asking, “What is happening?”

Another responded in a more subdued tone, “The king has been killed.”

The news spread like wildfire through the crowd, as the people repeated the words and exchanged looks of horror and confusion.

Tahu called a slave and ordered him to fetch a litter. The man ran off into the palace to return with a group of slaves carrying a royal litter. They set it down on the ground and all lifted Pharaoh and laid him gently down on it. The news spread inside the palace and the king's physician hurried out. The queen appeared behind him moving with hurried steps and in obvious distress. When her eyes alighted upon the litter and he who lay upon it, she ran to him in trepidation, and falling to her knees next to the physician, she said in a trembling voice, “Alas, they have stricken you, my lord, as was your desire.”

The people beheld the queen and one of them cried out, “Her majesty the queen.”

The heads of the dumbfounded populace all bowed in unison as if they were performing a communal prayer. The king started to come round from the effects of the initial shock, and opening his heavy eyes he looked weakly and quietly at the faces of those gathered round him. Sofkhatep was gazing into his face in a silent stupor. Tahu stood motionless, his face like the faces of the dead. The physician, having removed the shirt of mail, was examining the wound. As for the queen, her face wore an expression of anguish and pain and she said to the physician, “Is he not well? Tell me he is well.”

The king was aware of her words, and he said simply, “It is not so, Nitocris. The arrow is fatal.”

The physician wanted to remove the arrow, but the king said to him, “Leave it. There is no point in hoping for an end to this torment.”

Sofkhatep was deeply moved and he said to Tahu with a great fury that completely changed the tone of his voice, “Call your men. Avenge your lord from these criminals.”