Three Novels of Ancient Egypt

“A bit of cruelty, yes — but not cruelty in all things,” Sennefer continued. “You'll see everything for yourself in due course. Yet there hardly comes a day when a number of punishments aren't issued, some against the servants, some against the soldiers, some for the lower ranks, and perhaps some for the officers. And as time goes by, he only gets nastier — more boastful and crude, in fact.”

“Usually, a man's nature softens as the years advance — this is what Kagemni says.”

Sennefer laughed loudly as he said, “ ‘It is not becoming for an officer to quote the sayings of the wise.’ That is what His Highness says! His Highness's life deviates from Kagemni's description. Why? Because he's forty years old. A crown prince who's forty — think of it!”

The young man looked at him quizzically, as Sennefer went on talking in a low voice. “One wants heirs apparent to come to power young, for if the Fates are awful to them, then they are awful to everyone else!” he opined.

“Isn't His Highness married?”

“And he has both boys and girls,” answered Sennefer.

“Then the throne is secure for his progeny.”

“This does nothing to relieve his chagrin… it's not what the prince fears.”

“What does he fear, then? His brothers uphold the laws of the kingdom honestly.”

“There's no doubt about that,” said Sennefer. “Perhaps they lack ambition because their mothers are just concubines in the harem — and Her Majesty the Queen gave birth only to the crown prince and his sister, Meresankh. The throne rightfully belongs to those two before anyone else. But what worries the prince is… the vigorous health of His Majesty the King!”

“Pharaoh is idolized by all Egypt,” said Djedef.

“There's no argument there,” the officer said. “But I imagine that I can see the lusts lodged deep in people's souls that the conscience does not allow to emerge. God forbid that a traitor be found in Egypt. No, brother… and now, what's your opinion of the Maryut wine? I'm Theban, but I'm not prejudiced.”

“What you served me was fine,” Djedef replied.

This was enough chatter for Sennefer, who went off to sleep. But Djedef's cheek never touched his pillow, because his friend's mention of Meresankh had stirred his anguish and his burning love, just as food thrown on the water's surface excites the fish's hunger. Restive and disturbed, he spent the long, black night exchanging secrets with his sorrowing heart.

20

Within the heir apparent's palace, Djedef felt deep inside that he was close to an obscure secret. No doubt, he dwelt on the horizon — where it — would arise — and, inevitably, one of its blazing rays would someday illuminate it. Meanwhile, he waited in hope, in fear, and in rapture.

One late afternoon, he patrolled the palace meadows that overlooked the Nile, as the sun of the month of Hatur poured forth a joyous light recalling the days of his youthful prime and splendor. Making his rounds, he saw a royal ship lying in anchor at the garden's staircase — and none of the chamberlains were there to greet it. So he hurried — as duty obliged — to receive the honored messenger, and stood facing the ship like a striking statue.

He saw a divine, glorious vision hidden in the robe of a king's daughter. With pharaonic grandeur and ethereal grace, she came down from the ship to ascend the staircase. So ethereal was she, in fact, it seemed as though her weight was pulled upward, not downward. Djedef was looking at Her Royal Highness Princess Meresankh!

He drew out his long sword and gave a military salute, as the princess passed by him like a ravishing dream. And just as quickly, she departed the twisting paths of the garden.

How could this not be her?

Sight can be deceived, and so can hearing, but the heart never is — and if this wasn't her, then his heart would not beat so intensely that it was almost torn to pieces. And why else would it leave him in ecstasy like a staggering drunk? Yet her mind seemed neither to sense or to recall him — and hadn't something happened between them that would merit remembrance? Could she so quickly forget so strange an encounter? Or could she be just snobbishly pretending not to know him?

And what good would it do him, — whether she remembered him or not? What is the difference between the princess being the girl in the picture, or someone else — who resembles her? For his heart beats so hard only for the love of this lovely painting, and shall continue to do so, whether she resides in the body of the princess from the Great House of Pharaoh, or in that of the peasant girl from the villages around Memphis. And he shall remain in despair of her in either case, for there is no alternative to love — just as there is none to its denial.