Three Novels of Ancient Egypt

He turned toward his sons, examining each of them one by one, as though he were trying to read what lay behind and inside them.

“I see you holding back in silence,” he said, “anxiously concealing a hidden sorrow. Each one of you regards his brother with a suspicious and resentful eye. And how could this not be so, when the heir apparent has died? The king is dying, and each of you harbors ambitions toward the throne, wanting it for himself. I do not deny that you are all noble youths of lofty morals — but I want to put myself at rest about my succession, and about your brethren.”

Baufra, the oldest of the princes, interrupted him. “My father and my lord,” he said, “however our longings may have divided us, they have conditioned us to obey you. Your will for us is like the holy law that compels our subservience without any dissent.”

The king grinned ruefully, beholding them with eyes that swiveled exhaustedly in their sockets. “What you said is beautiful, O Baufra,” he said. “Truly, I say to you, that I, at this frightful hour, find within myself an overawing power over the sublimity of human emotions. I feel that my fatherhood over the believers is of more import than my fatherhood toward my sons. They have appointed me to say what is right — and to do it, as well.”

Once again, he scrutinized their expressions, then proceeded, “To me, it seems that what I have said now has caused you no astonishment. And the truth is that, without disavowing my fatherhood of you, I find before me one who is more deserving of the throne than any of you, one whose assuming the crown will help preserve the virtue of your own brothers. He is a youth whose zeal has long destined him for leadership, while his courage has achieved a magnificent victory for the homeland. His heroism saved Pharaoh's life from perfidy. Be sure not to ask, ‘How can he sit on Egypt's throne if the blood of kings flows not in his veins?’ For he is the husband of Princess Meresankh, in whose veins runs the blood of kings and queens alike.”

Djedef looked astounded as he exchanged confused glances with Meresankh, while the princes and men of state were all caught so off-guard that their tongues were frozen and their eyes seemed dazed. They all stared at Djedef.

Prince Baufra was the first to risk rupturing this silence. “My lord, saving the king's life is a duty for every person, and not the sort of deed that anyone would hesitate to perform. Therefore, how can the throne be his reward?”

Sternly, the king replied, “I see that you would now stoke the fires of rebellion after having sung the anthems of obedience but a short while ago. O my sons, you are the princes of the realm and its lords. You shall have wealth, influence, and position — but the throne shall be Djedef's. This is the last will of Khufu, which he proclaims to his sons, by the right he has over them to command their obedience. Let the vizier hear it, so that he may carry it out by his authority and by his word. Let the supreme commander hear it also, that he may guard its execution with the force of his army. This last bequest of Khufu he leaves in the presence of those that he loves, and who love him; of those with whom he has dwelt closely in amity, and who, in return, offer their affection and fidelity.”

An intimidating silence settled over them, that none dared to disturb, as each withdrew to his own thoughts — until there entered the chief chamberlain. He prostrated himself before the king, then announced, “My lord, the Inspector of the Pyramid, Bisharu, begs Your Majesty for an audience with you.”

“Invite him to come in, for from this moment he belongs to our household.”

Bisharu entered — with his short height and wide girth, and prostrated himself before Pharaoh. Afterward, the king ordered him to stand, granting him permission to speak.

His voice subdued, the man said, “Sire! I wanted to appear before Your Majesty last night about something very important, but I arrived just after my lord's departure for the pyramid. Hence I had to wait, with much apprehension, until this morning.”

“What do you wish to say, O father of brave Djedef?”

“My lord,” Bisharu continued, his voice even lower, as he stared at the floor, “I am not the father of Djedef, and Djedef is not my son.”

Stunned, Pharaoh replied with mocking irony, “Yesterday, a son denies his father — and today, a father denies his son!”

In sorrow, Bisharu went on, “My lord, all of the gods know that I love this young man with the affection of a father for his son. I wouldn't say these words if my loyalty to the throne were not greater in me than the sway of human emotions.”

The king's perplexity multiplied, as the interest grew in the faces of all those in attendance — especially the princes, who hoped that a disaster for the young man would rescue them from the king's final testament. They all kept glancing back and forth between Bisharu and Djedef, whose color had gone pale, his expression rigid.