Chapter 17.
The three men retired to the Pharaoh’s receiving hall, accompanied by a dozen armed guards, as was customary. Pharaoh was in the lead, while the chief priest and the high priest follow behind, abreast of each other.
Shehat was conspicuously silent, searching for something to say. The high priest paid no attention to him, instead focusing his attention on the Pharaoh’s back.
“You will remain here.” Khufu pointed to a place on the floor as he continued forward. He came to his throne and turned to face the two priests. Staring coldly at Shehat, he began:
“Summon the queen mother!” He commanded as he sat down, adjusting his robe to cover his feet. Never did his stare waver.
The guards had already stationed themselves at each entrance. They stood in mute silence, eyes focused on the two men in the center of the room. The silence was palpable.
Shehat was noticeably uncomfortable. Before, it had always been customary for the two priests to seat themselves on the divans close the throne. He knew then that something was wrong. Hesitantly he began:
“My Pharaoh. . . .” Khufu raised his palm toward the man, who stopped speaking immediately. Shehat felt his palms becoming clammy. He swallowed, trying to bring moisture back into his mouth. It wasn’t working.
Distantly he could hear the sound of footsteps, rhythmic, regular, the sound of soldiers marching. The cadence grew louder, until to his left he saw the queen mother under escort. This was not unusual. She always had an armed escort wherever she went.
The guards escorted Hetepheres to her customary position to the right of the throne. She turned, and was about to sit. Khufu broke eye contact with the chief priest, turning to his mother.
“You will remain standing, mother.”
“What do you mean!? Remain standing INDEED!” she rasped.
“You will be SILENT!” the Pharaoh yelled.
Khufu turned his attention away from her, again focusing on the two men before him. Hetepheres attempted to speak, but the Pharaoh stopped her with a penetrating glare.
“You WILL remain silent, or I will have you bound and gagged!”
Khufu motioned. The two guards moved closer to flank her. Hetepheres seemed to noticeably shrink where she stood.
“He knows!” The thought transfixed her.
“High Priest Yunu. You will come forward to take your customary place at my left.
Once again focusing his stare at the chief priest, Khufu pointed his sceptre at the man as he began speaking.
“Shehat. You are no longer chief priest. Remove your priestly attire now.”
“But my Pharaoh, I can explain. . . .”
“You will cease to speak IMMEDIATELY, lest I revert to that which tempts me at this moment. Guards! Remove this man’s garb, all but his loincloth. Shackle his ankles. Shackle his wrists. Drive him to his knees!”
Amon sat down slowly, watching the queen mother’s reaction. She was noticeably pale. She looked to be trembling as she looked from her son to Shehat, then back again.
“There are no words either of you can utter which will disentangle you from the sinister web you have woven. Together you have conspired to overthrow me. And in so doing, openly oppose the principles for which I stand.
“For generations this kingdom has grown, in size, power and influence. We and the leaders before us have built a civilization, the first and only one of it’s kind in the world. As we have grown, we have become too accustomed to the luxuries we enjoy, so much so that they no longer satisfy us.
“Power. The ability to control, to manipulate, to force our will upon others. This has become the aphrodisiac which we crave above all else. It is all-consuming and is never sufficient.
“It is that which has corrupted us so much so that we are no longer concerned for those who are under our care. It has warped our thinking to the point we have forgotten if it weren’t for THEM, we would have to do for ourselves.”
The Pharaoh stood slowly, walking toward the now defrocked chief priest.
“YOU, ignoble ‘priest’!” Khufu spat the words. You, who profess loyalty. You, who profess humility. You, who claim to intercede with the gods for the benefit of the people who place their trust in you.”
Khufu stared fiercely into the eyes of the man now cowering before him. Raising his sceptre as though to strike, he hesitated, then turned toward his mother.
“And YOU, mother to a Pharaoh! You, who colluded with a priest. You, who spread your legs, and conceived a bastard child. You, who killed that child for your own selfish ends. Your treachery is beyond that of the man with whom you conspired.”
Khufu turned away from his mother and walked slowly, deliberately, back toward his throne. There he stood rigidly unmoving, contemplating what he should do next. He looked across at Amon. Their eyes met.
Amon sensed his consternation. He knew the struggle his friend was experiencing. Whether to lash out, to take retribution, to be avenged of the wrong committed upon him. To do what he had been taught from birth. Or whether to exercise restraint.
The Pharaoh had the authority, the power to do with these two as he pleased. No one would dare question his decision.
But these new concepts which the high priest Yunu . . . the man Amon, had introduced him to, had a profound impact on his thinking.
Khufu, like all the other pharaohs before him, had been raised in a community of privilege. From his birth, through his early formative years, into adulthood, he had been taught that he was superior, elite, and that all others were there to serve him. This was his reality. He had never considered it to be otherwise.
But from the day that Yunu came into his life, Khufu’s belief system had begun to change.
The concepts which the high priest introduced him to were foreign. Freedom. Cooperation. Responsibility. Compassion. These were abstract concepts which he understood on an intellectual, self-centered level, but had never felt the need to apply in his own life.
But over time, as he had continued conversing with the high priest, learning from him, he had come to be comfortable with these concepts. He had begun applying them in his life and had experienced the simple satisfaction derived from doing the right thing without expecting something in return. And in so doing he had received an unexpected reward . . . inner peace.
And now these two. His mother and his chief priest, conspiring to do away with him, to discard the values which he had so recently come to appreciate and hold as sacred. To once again subjugate the people who he had come to love and appreciate. Essentially to stifle the right of the individual to choose for himself.
The pharaoh broke eye contact with the high priest. Amon saw resolve on the face of his friend.
“So. Now. What shall be your punishment?”
Khufu sat, then turned to face Hetepheres.
“Mother. Your treachery is deserving of the ultimate punishment. But alas, you ARE the Queen Mother. For all you’ve done, for all your scheming, your lying, your deception, yet you are still my mother and I cannot bring myself to meet out that which you deserve.
“Therefore it shall be your lot to live with the knowledge of your foul acts. To carry this burden throughout the remainder of your miserable life. To stand in silent support of the Pharaoh you and your lover chose to betray.
“Your treachery shall be made known to no one but those within this room. Your guards will know, but they will not speak of it, even among themselves. They will watch over you and protect you. But you will henceforth never leave their sight. Nor will you leave the confines of this palace.
“You will not speak unless spoken to. Your silence shall be your torment. And when at last you pass from this life, your body will be given full honor, commensurate with a person of your station. And I, as your Pharaoh and as your son, will mourn your passing.”
A long moment passed before Khufu looked up from the floor. He looked up toward the ceiling, took a deep breath, and then settled his gaze on the defrocked priest.
“Shehat. I remember as a child seeing you walk these halls with my father. It seemed that you were always at his side. It just seemed natural that the two of you should be together. For so long I took that for granted. Never did it come to my mind that you would betray him.
“But indeed, betray him you did. Not with the cur Hakim, as you have done against me; but before that, even before my own birth, with my father’s own WIFE!
“From the day of your arrival within these walls you have plotted and schemed, weaving your web of deception, even as you professed undying loyalty to my father, even as you luxuriated in the embrace of his wife.
“The lust of the loins, this I can comprehend, for it is of the natural man. Even the desire for power is comprehensible. But to deceive even those people most close to you; to smile, to cajole, to flatter, to lie, all for the sake of a lust for power. This I cannot fathom.
“You would destroy a nation. You would subvert a civilization, turn it back toward barbarism, all for the sake of what? Vanity? Greed? Power?
“This vain ambition is beyond comprehension. It is beyond justification. And, so far as my authority is concerned, it is beyond redemption.”
The Pharaoh leaned his sceptre against the side of his throne, clasped his hands together and lowered his head in thought. Another long uncomfortable few moments passed.
Through all this, Amon sat quietly, listening carefully to his friend’s words, sensitive to the emotions barely being kept in check by a man trying to reconcile the training of his upbringing with the knowledge he had so recently acquired.
“My Pharaoh . . .” Shehat dared to utter.
Amon spoke quietly, tersely:
“It is wisdom in me that you should hold your tongue.”
Shehat opened his mouth to speak, but stopped short when the Pharaoh rose deliberately to his feet.
“This, then is my decision. You have disgraced this throne. You have disgraced this bloodline. You have defiled and disgraced a queen. And you have disgraced your progenitors. Therefore it is meet that your name shall no longer be known or remembered among this people.
“From this day forward until your work is finished, you shall be hidden from the sight of men. By night you shall go among the monuments wearing chains; mallet and chisel in hand. In all places where your name or likeness is inscribed, you shall cause them to be removed, destroyed, that they will no longer be seen or remembered among this or an other people, for ever more.
“Then, when your work here is complete, you shall be taken seven days ride into the wilderness. There your shackles will be loosed and you will be set free, with one half skin of water, one half loaf, and your loincloth. There, if you choose, you will commune with the gods you profess to adore. Perhaps they will show mercy.”