Three Novels of Ancient Egypt

The king seemed vexed, and raising his hand with great difficulty, he said, “Do not move, Tahu. Do my orders not matter to you now, Sofkhatep, as I lie here thus? There shall be no more fighting. Inform the priests they have achieved their goal and that Merenra lies on his deathbed. Let them go in peace.”

A shudder ran through the queen's body as she leant to his ear and whispered, “My lord, I do not love to weep in front of your killers, but let your heart rest assured, by our parents and by the pure blood that runs in our veins, I will heap such revenge upon your enemies, that time will recount the tale of it for generations to come.”

He smiled to her a light smile expressing his thanks and affection. The physician washed the wound, gave him a soothing potion to dull the pain, and placed some herbs around the arrow. The king gave himself up to the man's ministering hands but he felt that death was near and his final hour fast approaching. He had not forgotten, as life drained from him, the beloved face he longed to bid farewell to before his inevitable demise. An expression of yearning appeared in his eyes, and he said in a faint voice, oblivious to what was happening around him, “Rhadopis, Rhadopis.”

The queen's face was close to his, and she felt a sharp blow pierce the membrane around her heart. A sudden dizziness took hold of her and she raised her head. He paid no attention to the feelings of those around him and he beckoned to Tahu, who stepped forward, and said to him hopefully, “Rhadopis.”

“Shall I bring her to you, my lord?” he asked.

“No,” replied the king feebly. “Take me to her. There is some life remaining in my heart, I want it to expire on Biga.”

With deep uncertainty Tahu looked at the queen, who rose to her feet and said calmly, “Carry out my lord's desire.”

Hearing her voice, and minding her words, the king said to her, “Sister, as you have forgiven me my sins, so forgive me this too. It is the wish of a dying man.”

The queen smiled a sad smile and leaned over his brow and kissed it. Then she stepped aside to make room for the slaves.

Farewell

The boat slipped gently downstream toward Biga, the litter inside the cabin carrying its precious cargo. The physician stood at Pharaoh's head, and Tahu and Sofkhatep at his feet. It was the first time grief had reigned over the barge as it bore the slumbering, surrendering lord, the shadow of death hovering about his face. The two men stood in silence, their eyes never leaving the king's wan face. From time to time he would lift his heavy eyelids and look at them weakly, then close them again helplessly. Gradually the boat drew nearer to the island, docking eventually at the foot of the steps leading up to the garden of the golden palace.

Tahu leaned over and whispered in Sofkhatep's ear, “I think one of us should go ahead of the litter lest the shock prove too much for the woman.”

At this terrible hour Sofkhatep did not care about the feelings of anyone, and he said abruptly, “Do what you think fit.”

But Tahu stayed where he was, and seized by confusion and hesitation, he said, “It is terrible news. What person would know how to break it to her?”

Sofkhatep said decisively, “What are you afraid of, commander? He who has been tried as sorely as we have throws caution to the wind.”

With these words Sofkhatep hurried out of the cabin, up the steps to the garden and down the path until he reached the pool, where he found the slave girl, Shayth, blocking his way. The woman was amazed to see him, for she knew him from the old days, and she opened her mouth to speak but he gave her no chance, and blurted out, “Where is your mistress?”

“My poor mistress,” she said, “she can find no rest today. She's been going round the rooms and wandering through the garden till….”

The man's patience — wore thin and he interrupted her, “Where is your mistress, woman?”

“In the summer room, sir,” she said, much offended.

He proceeded to the room with great haste, and entered, clearing his throat as he did so. Rhadopis was seated upon a chair — with her head in her hands. When she felt him enter she turned round, and recognized him at once. She leapt sharply her feet and asked — with grave concern and apprehension, “Prime Minister Sofkhatep, — where is my lord?”

Such was his sadness that he spoke in a kind of trance, “He is coming shortly.”

And she clasped her hand to her breast in joy, and said delightedly, “How I — was tormented by fears for my master. News of the tragic rebellion reached me, then I heard nothing more and I — was left alone — with dark fears gnawing my heart. When — will my master come?”

Then, suddenly, it occurred to her that he was not in the habit of sending a messenger ahead of him and she was seized with anxiety, and before Sofkhatep could utter a word she said, “But why has he sent you to me?”

“Patience, my lady,” said the prime minister impassively. “No one has sent me. The grievous truth is that my lord has been wounded.”