Three Novels of Ancient Egypt

“May the gods answer your prayer until I have finished my book,” said Khufu.

“I would never forbid the doing of good,” replied Hemiunu, “but I do wish that our lord be given eternal peace and comfort.”

“No, O Hemiunu,” said the king. “Egypt has built me a place of rest for my soul, while I grant her nothing but my own mortal life.”

The two men stopped talking as Khufu mounted the royal chariot. Then the vizier clambered in and grasped the reins, as the horses moved in an ambling gait. Each time that the vehicle passed a group of soldiers or priests, they prostrated themselves in salute and respect. The horses trotted steadily until they traversed the plateau and crossed its borders to the Valley of Death, — which led to the gates of Memphis. The darkness — was still pitch-black and the sky filled — with stars, twinkling so intensely that it might make an observer think that they were falling upon another nearby, bewitching hearts with their encompassing majesty.

Midway through the Valley of Immortality, as the king and his chief minister rode in quiet meditation, they were startled to hear one of their steeds scream violently, before leaping in the air and falling to the ground. The horse's collapse prevented the chariot from continuing, and stopped the second stallion in his tracks. The two men were amazed, and the vizier thought of going down to see what had felled the lead horse. But before he could move, he shrieked in pain and shouted, “Take care, sire — I am wounded!”

Khufu grasped that a human being had struck the horse before targeting the vizier, as well. Thinking this must be a highway robber, he called out powerfully, “Flee, you coward! Who is it that would assassinate Pharaoh?”

But then he heard a voice like thunder yell, “To me, Sen-nefer!” Looking at the place whence it came — as he clutched the stricken Hemiunu to his breast — he saw a ghost coming out from the right side of the valley like an arrow in flight. Next, the voice boomed out again, “Shield yourself within your chariot, my lord!”

Meanwhile he saw standing on the road, another ghost, which had come from the left side of the valley. The two shades fought each other viciously, trading murderous blows with their swords. Then one of them screeched and crashed to the ground — dead, without a doubt. But which of them had fallen, the friend or the foe? Yet the king's anxiety did not last long, for he heard the voice of his savior ask, “Is my lord alright?”

“Yes, O valiant one,” he answered. “But my vizier is hurt.”

Just then, Khufu heard the clash of blades behind his chariot. Turning quickly, he saw a detachment of troops embroiled in seething combat, and the courageous man who had slain his would-be assassin join them, as troop vanquished troop. The king watched the battle in hapless anger.

The fighting tipped in favor of Pharaoh's supporters as they brought down their adversaries one by one. Terror gripped the traitors as, in the distance, they spotted a squadron of horsemen approaching from the direction of the holy plateau, bearing torches and cheering the name of their glorious king. Rattled with fright, they sought to escape — but those who opposed them were stronger and more ruthless. They cut them off and killed them, sparing not one.

The arriving knights encircled Pharaoh's chariot, their torches lighting up the valley to reveal the corpses of the enemy dead. The faces of those who fell defending the king were also exposed, their blameless blood streaming down over their necks and their brows.

The horsemen's chief advanced upon Khufu's vehicle — and when he saw his sire standing upright, he praised the god as he knelt in reverence. “How is Our Lord the King?” he asked.

Khufu held up his vizier as he came down from his chariot. “Pharaoh is well, thanks to the gods, and to the valor of these men,” he said. “But how are you, Hemiunu?”

“I'm fine, my lord,” he answered weakly. “I was hit in the forearm, but that's not fatal by itself. Let's all pray in thanks to Ptah, who saved our king's life.”

Pharaoh peered around him and saw the young commander. “You're here, Commander Djedef? Are you trying to put all of the royal family together in your debt!” he exclaimed.

The youth bowed in deep respect. “We all — each one of us — would sacrifice ourselves for our lord,” he replied.

“But how did this happen?” asked the king. “To me it appears that what occurred here was no trifling event, certainly not coincidence. I could just perceive in the dark a case of high treason, foiled by your loyalty and your bravery. But first we must have a look at the faces of those killed. Let's begin with the one who rashly fired arrows at us, to halt us on our way.”