Chapter 7.
Under the cover of darkness the two men entered the temple through a concealed entry in the rear of the building. Now, sitting together in the dim candle light inside the ‘holy of holies,’ the Pharaoh was first to speak.
“It went well, don’t you think?” Khufu leaned back in his chair, extending his bare feet in front of him.
“Remind me to have the cobbler replace this strap. It is beginning to chafe.” He leaned down and picked up the sandal, inspecting it.
“As you wish, my pharaoh.” Amon observed carefully, looking for any hint of how the pharaoh would broach the subject. From childhood, Khufu had played an intimate part in the circles of power which surrounded the throne. It was difficult for him to adopt an air of humility in Amon’s presence. It was a tenuous wire upon which the two of them were dancing. Khufu was powerful. But the knowledge that he had gained from Amon made him realize that his power was limited. He knew that he needed Amon, or at least his knowledge, in order to prevail against the forces which were building against him. Hoping to provide Khufu an easy entrance into the subject, Amon asked:
“What news from the Nubian emissary?”
“His information is worse than useless!” Khufu toyed with his sandal a moment more; then dropped it to the floor.
“The tribe he claims to represent is but a small group of nomads. If what he claims is correct, why haven’t they capitalized on this before now?”
“My pharaoh, sometimes it is difficult for even a wealthy man to hold on to his treasure. This king, as he calls himself, rules over how many?”
“Only a small number, a few hundred at most.”
“Perhaps he fears his treasure will be taken if he exposes it.”
“What good is treasure if you can’t spend it?”
A trite statement, thought Amon, coming from a man with so much wealth that he paid it practically no heed.
“Perhaps he desires to spend it prudently.” Amon tried to manipulate the course of the conversation.
“Assuredly this is true.” Khufu bent to put his sandals back on, favoring the tender spot on his heel.
“Why, then would he offer me his fortune without any guarantee whatsoever that I will do as he asks?
“He must surely be surrounded by other ‘kings.’ Perhaps he has been threatened and needs your backing so he can retain power.”
“That is not at all uncommon among ‘those’ people.” The pharaoh spat the words out distastefully.
“They have fought among themselves for generations. Even my father was unable to settle their disputes. They are a primitive people . . . and barbarous.”
Amon had been waiting for this moment to interject.
“Never the less, it may just be possible to win their confidence with a few well-timed overtures. Perhaps this ‘king’ may be the means through which you will unite the tribes.”
Khufu stood and began slowly pacing the floor in front of the altar. He remembered how his father had struggled with the southern nomads. They, like the sands upon which they trod, had always just slipped away. His father had expended treasure and blood to win favor with those allusive tribes. But his efforts to control and organize them had always met with failure.
“Remember this!” Khufu spun to face the priest. “Remember this, ‘Yunu,’ if that is truly your name! My armies are sufficient to conquer any foe! I have but to speak it and that barbarian king and all who follow him will be wiped from the face of the earth.”
“Most certainly this is true, my pharaoh.”
Amon had seen such outbursts before. The pharaoh speaking in such an emotional manner here and now, privately, without fear of consequence, had a miraculous way of showing how much Khufu, the man, trusted ‘Yunu,’ the stranger from the southern desert.
Amon was certain the pharaoh felt safe in his presence. An occasional opportunity to vent was sometimes very hard for a man, especially a pharaoh, to find. It was in part this display of trust and understanding which he had offered Khufu from the very beginning that had allowed him to attain the position he was in now.
The pharaoh knew his power in military terms. But, young as he was, he was frequently uncertain of what he should do politically. He was surrounded and ‘protected’ on all sides by relatives and ‘friends’ of the family. He was certain not all of the advice they had given him had been without ‘advantage’ for them also.
Amon provided an outlet, a place where Khufu could test his ideas in a protected environment, free from prying eyes and wagging tongues. Amon was as close to a friend as the pharaoh had ever had. Amon knew this and valued the friendship. It was one of the reasons he was here.
The Brighid had kept records of the reign of Snefru, and Amon had researched them thoroughly before returning to his home world.
He had studied Khufu from the time he was just a boy sitting on his mother’s lap. Hetepheres had been beautiful back then. She was in her prime, sitting proudly at the side of her husband, King Snefru, Pharaoh.
He had seen the young Khufu passed from one servant to the next, to the next. There was always someone for him to play with, but that person was always an adult, a servant. Not a friend.
The only children the future pharaoh ever saw were his younger siblings. Even then they were separated much of the time. Each child had his own set of servants. Each servant had things that had to be coordinated with the other servants. Schedules had to be kept, bathing, washing, eating, playing. Everything was scheduled.
Khufu had grown up a lonely child. All his needs and desires had been filled . . . all but one. He had never had a close friend.
Amon understood the isolation the pharaoh felt. He remembered his own early days, back in the forest. It was so hard being the center of everyone’s attention. Family and friends were constantly badgering him with their problems. It seemed he never had time for himself. He never had anyone to confide in. The young, one-day pharaoh reminded him of himself. Amon had grown close to the young boy. Now he was doing so with the man.
His mind had been wandering. He needed to get back in character.
“But would it not be more advantageous to gain the nomads as allies, my king, rather than defeat them and then have to feed them? After all, its nothing but desert where they live. Let them keep it. But let us form an alliance with a few of their more influential leaders, and we can rest secure from an invasion from the south, or the west. We will have friends in all the right places.”
“If we’ve thought of this, then others have too.” The pharaoh rose to his feet and stretched.
“This opportunity has not gone unnoticed by others close to my court. Of this I am reasonably certain. The Nubian question has been a topic of consternation for generations. Lately, though, I seem to be hearing more than usual.”
Amon saw this as an opportunity to infiltrate a little further into the inner circles surrounding the pharaoh.
“My king, I am not without my ‘resources’ from before the time of our meeting. Perhaps they can be of assistance in this matter. They will be discrete, I assure you.”
“Your past perplexes me, high priest.” The pharaoh turned to face him, hand pursing his lower lip.
“How is that you have come to be who you are? My people tell me only that you came out of the southern desert, sole survivor of an attack by unknown assailants. How is it that without any formal schooling, you master such complex issues as mathematics and engineering?”
“And what of your age? You are but young, more so even than me. Yet you claim to possess the knowledge of generations.”
“My king, such things can be learned, if one has keen eyes and ears and a willingness to expend the effort. It is, and ever has been my joy to see monuments raised to the greatness of mankind. I am fortunate that this knowledge has come as an added reward for my fascination with the subject. And I am grateful that you would entrust all this to my keeping.”
“As usual you change the subject.” Khufu snapped. “I want
to know more about YOU, not what you think. You are a man such as I have never known before. You are sometimes devious, as I see from your response just now. But there is an air of honesty about you that I cannot fathom. Why is it that I am prone to trust you?” Khufu gazed at the floor momentarily, thinking.
“Beyond that, there is something you hold back. There is more to you than you will allow me to see.” The pharaoh strode slowly up to Amon, tapping him slowly on the chest. “What is it, Yunu? What will you not tell me?”
“My king, all that I am is here before you. I am but a man with a profound love for my people.” Amon raised a hand, gently grasping the pharaoh’s arm.
“True, I carry with me secrets, as does every man. They are common among us. They may be secrets of shame, or guilt or remorse or regret.” Amon looked deeply into Khufu’s eyes.
“But they are unique to me, just as yours are to you.” They are personal, they are private. And, they are harmless.” He smiled as he squeezed the pharaoh’s arm reassuringly.
“I am here before you now as a friend more than anything else you may suspect. I have seen a side of you that not even the privileged have seen. You have opened yourself up to me in a way that I am sure you would not do with others. I appreciate and respect your trust in me, and will never do or say anything that would compromise that trust.”
Placing his other hand on Khufu’s shoulder, he continued:
“I am required by law to love the Pharaoh. But the man, my brother. Him I love willingly.”