Three Novels of Ancient Egypt

Despite his brawn, the king's eyes showed the strain of the great responsibilities that weighed upon him. Though his outward aspect had not altered, it was obvious that the hardships of passing time had overpowered his inner being. This was not lost on his closest intimates, such as Khafra, Hemiunu, Mirabu, and Arbu. They noticed that Pharaoh was little by little becoming an ascetic, practicing nonphysical pursuits — no matter how much more manly activities, such as hunting and the chase, were dear to his heart. He now inclined toward gloomy contemplation and reading: sometimes the dawn would overtake him while he was sitting on his cushion, studying books of theology and the philosophy of Kagemni. His former sense of humor changed to sarcasm, replete with dark thoughts and misgivings.

The most amazing thing about that evening — and the least expected — was that the king should have displayed any sign of anxiety or distress whatsoever on this, of all nights, when he was marking the most monumental achievement in history. Of all the people with him, the one most aware of the king's unease was the architect Mirabu, who could not restrain the urge to ask him, “What so clearly preoccupies the mind of my lord?”

Pharaoh looked at him somewhat mockingly, and asked, as one wondering aloud, “Has history ever known a king whose mind was carefree?”

Thinking little of this answer, the artist went on, “But it is only right for my sire to rejoice this evening, without any reservation.”

“And why is it right for your lord to rejoice?”

Mirabu was stunned into silence by the king's derisive reply, which almost made him forget the beauty of Pharaoh's praise and the grandeur of his celebration. But Prince Khafra was not pleased with the psychological changes in the king.

“Because, my lord,” he said, “we fete today the blessing of the greatest technical accomplishment in the long annals of Egypt.”

Laughing, Khufu replied, “Do you mean my tomb, O Prince? Is it right for a person to exult over the construction of his grave?”

“Long may the God keep our lord among us,” Khafra said, adding, “Glorious work merits rejoicing and recognition.”

“Yes, yes — but if it reminds one of death, then there must also be a bit of sadness.”

“It reminds us of immortality, my lord,” said Mirabu, with passion.

“Do not forget, Mirabu,” said Pharaoh, smiling, “that I am an admirer of your work. But the intimation of one's mortality fills the soul with grief. Yes, I do not dwell on what has inspired your magisterial monument with deathless profundity — rather, on the fact that immortality is itself a death for our dear, ephemeral lives.”

Here Hemiunu interjected with staidness, reflection, and faith, “My lord, the tomb is the threshold to perpetual existence.”

To this, the king replied, “I believe you, Hemiunu. Yet the coming journey requires considerable preparation — especially since it is eternal. But do not think that Pharaoh has any fear or regret — no, no, no — I am simply astonished by this millstone that keeps on turning and turning, grinding up kings and commoners alike each day.”

Prince Khafra was growing annoyed — with the king's philosophizing. “My lord spends too much time thinking,” he said.

Knowing his son's nature, Pharaoh answered, “Perhaps, Prince, this doesn't please you.”

“Forgive me, sire,” said Khafra. “But the truth is that contemplation is the task of the sages. As for those whom the gods submit to the tribulations of rule, it's no wonder that they seek to shun such difficult matters.”

“Are you insinuating that I have toppled into the abyss of old age?” Khufu questioned him, jeeringly.

The companions grew alarmed. But the prince was the most alarmed of all. “The Lord forbid, my father!” he blurted.

Derisively, but with a strong voice, the king replied, “Calm yourself, O Khafra. Know that your father will retain his grip on authority with an iron hand.”

“Then I am entitled, my lord,” said Khafra, “to be gratified, though I have heard nothing new.”

“Or do you think that the king is not a king unless he declares a war?” Khufu asked.

Prince Khafra was always pointing out to his father that he should send an army to chastise the tribes of Sinai. He grasped what Pharaoh was getting at, and was taken aback for a moment.

Hemiunu seized on this momentary silence. “Peace is more manly than war for the strong, upright king,” he said.

The prince rejoined in a forceful tone that bespoke the hardness and cruelty traced upon his face, “But the king must not allow a policy of peace to prevent him from making war when the need to fight is serious!”

“I see that you're still dwelling on this ancient subject,” Khufu remarked.

“Yes, sire,” said Khafra, “nor will I desist till my view is accepted — for the tribes of Sinai are corrupting the land: they threaten the government's prestige.”