Khnumhotep had a wise old head on his shoulders and was possessed of keen insight, but his patience was running thin and he could remain impassive no longer. He thought long and deep about the matter and determined he would do his utmost to divert events from the direction in which they were heading. He sent a messenger to Lord Chamberlain Sofkhatep requesting the pleasure of his company at the government house. The lord chamberlain hurried over to meet him. The prime minister shook his hand and said, “I thank you, venerable Sofkhatep, for accepting my request.”
The lord chamberlain bowed his head and said, “I do not hesitate to carry out my sacred duty in serving my lord.”
The two men sat down facing one another. Khnumhotep had an iron will and nerves of steel and his face remained placid despite the troubling thoughts that raged in his breast. He listened to the words of the lord chamberlain in silence then said, “Venerable Sofkhatep, all of us serve Pharaoh and Egypt with loyalty.”
“That is correct, Your Excellency.”
Khnumhotep decided to bring up his grave business in hand and said, “But my conscience is not happy with the way events are moving these days. I am encountering problems and inconveniences. I am of the opinion, and I think that I am telling the truth, that a meeting between you and me would undoubtedly be of great benefit.”
“It gives me great pleasure, by the gods, that your intuition is correct, Your Excellency.”
The prime minister nodded his large head in an indication of approval, and when he spoke his tone displayed wisdom. “It is better that we be open, for openness, as our philosopher Kagemni has pointed out, is a sign of honesty and sincerity.”
Sofkhatep agreed. “Our philosopher Kagemni spoke the truth.”
Khnumhotep spent a moment gathering his thoughts and then spoke with a hint of sadness in his voice. “It is very rare that I have the opportunity to meet His Majesty these days.”
The prime minister waited for Sofkhatep to comment, but he remained silent, and Khnumhotep continued, “And you know, venerable sir, that many times I request an appointment to meet him, and I am informed that His Worshipful Self is out of the palace.”
“It is not for any person to ask Pharaoh to account for his comings and goings,” replied Sofkhatep without hesitation.
“That is not what I mean,” said the prime minister. “But I believe it is my right as prime minister to be accorded the opportunity to stand before His Majesty from time to time, in order to carry out my duties as efficiently as possible.”
“I beg your pardon, Your Excellency, but you do gain audiences -with Pharaoh.”
“Very rarely does the opportunity present itself, and you will find that I do not know what I should do to present to His Sublime Self the petitions that are overflowing the government offices.”
The lord chamberlain scrutinized him for a moment and then said, “Perhaps they are to do with the temple estates?”
A sudden light sparkled in the prime minister's eye. “That is it, sir.”
“Pharaoh does not wish to hear anything new about the subject,” said Sofkhatep quickly, “for he has spoken his final word on the matter.”
“Politics does not know final words.”
“That is your opinion, Your Excellency,” said Sofkhatep sharply, “and it could be that I do not share it with you.”
“Are not the temple estates a traditional inheritance?”
Sofkhatep disapproved, for he sensed that the prime minister was trying to draw him into a conversation that he did not wish to partake in. Indeed, he had already made his reluctance quite clear, and in a tone that left no room for doubt, he said, “I am happy to take His Majesty's word at face value, and I will go no further.”
“The most loyal of His Majesty's subjects are those who give him sound and sincere advice.”
The lord chamberlain was most indignant at the abrasiveness of these words, but he suppressed the rage at his offended pride, saying, “I know my duty, Your Excellency, but I do not question it except before my conscience.”
Khnumhotep sighed in despair, and then said with quiet resignation, “Your conscience is beyond all suspicion, venerable sir, and I have never been in any doubt about your loyalty or your wisdom. Perhaps that is what led me to seek your guidance on the matter. As for the fact that you believe that this does not agree with your loyalty, then I regret that I will have to do without you. Now I have only one request.”
“And what is that, Your Excellency?” said Sofkhatep.
“I would request that you bring it to the attention of Her Majesty the Queen that I seek the honor of meeting her today.”
Sofkhatep was taken aback, and stared at the prime minister in amazement, for even if the man had not overstepped the mark with this request, it was certainly unexpected, and the lord chamberlain was perplexed.
“I am presenting this request in my capacity as the prime minister of the kingdom of Egypt,” he said firmly.
Sofkhatep was worried. “Shall I not wait until tomorrow so that I may inform the king of your desire?”
“Indeed not, venerable sir. I am requesting the assistance of Her Majesty the Queen in order to surmount the obstacles which stand in my way. It is a golden opportunity that cannot be missed for me to serve my king and my country.”
There was nothing Sofkhatep could do except to say, “I will put your request to Her Majesty at once.”
“I shall await your messenger,” said Khnumhotep as he shook Sofkhatep's hand.
“As you wish, Your Excellency,” said the lord chamberlain.
Once alone, Khnumhotep frowned and gritted his teeth so tightly that his wide chin looked like a slab of granite as he paced up and down the room deep in thought. He did not doubt the loyalty of Sofkhatep, but he had little faith in his courage and determination. He had called on him because he had not wanted to leave any stone unturned, but he had had little hope in the outcome. He wondered with some disquiet if the queen would accept his request and invite him to meet her. What on earth would he do if she refused? The queen was not to be dismissed lightly. Perhaps with her keen intelligence she would be able to unravel this complex knot and rescue the relationship between the king and the clergy from collapse and disintegration. No doubt the queen was aware of the young king's misbehavior, and was seriously pained by it, for she was a queen well known for her astute mind, and she was a wife who felt joy and sadness like other wives. Was it not regrettable that the properties of the temples were being stripped, wrested away from them so that their yields might be squandered under the feet of a dancer?
Gold was pouring into the palace at Biga through the doors and windows. The finest craftsmen in the land -were flocking there and -working day and night to make furniture for its rooms, jewelry for its mistress, and adornments for her clothes. And where … -where -was Pharaoh? He had abandoned his -wife, his harem, and his ministers, and -wanted no more from the -world than to spend his time in the palace ofthat bewitching harlot.
The man sighed a deep sad sigh and muttered to himself, “He -who sits on the throne of Egypt should not spend his time in dalliance.”
He was soon lost in deep thought, but he did not wait long, for his chamberlain entered and asked permission for a messenger from the palace to see him. The prime minister granted him leave to enter and waited for the man with bated breath, for despite his strong -will and nerves of steel his lips were twitching at that decisive moment. The messenger came in and bowed his head in greeting. “Her Majesty the Queen is waiting for Your Excellency,” he said tersely.
He immediately gathered up the bundle of petitions and went to his chariot which sped him to the palace. He never imagined that the messenger would come so quickly. The queen was clearly troubled and sad, suffering from the pangs of her lonely isolation. No doubt she was struggling to maintain her composure under the strain of insult and deprivation, brooding behind an unbending fafade of silence and pride. He sensed that she was of his opinion and that she saw events as the clergy,
and indeed all intelligent citizens, saw them. In any case, he would do his duty and let the gods decree what should come to pass.
He reached the palace and went straight to the queen's chambers. He was soon invited to meet Her Majesty in the official reception hall. He was ushered into the hall and headed toward the throne. Bowing his head until his forehead touched the hem of the queen's garment, he said with great solemnity, “Peace be upon Your Majesty, Light of the Sun, Splendor of the Moon.”
“Peace be upon you, Prime Minister Khnumhotep,” said the queen softly.
The prime minister resumed an erect posture, though his head remained lowered. “The tongue of your most obedient slave is unable to express its thanks to Your Sublime Being for your kindness in granting him this audience,” he said humbly.
The queen spoke in her measured tone, “I believe that you would not request an audience except for the most urgent of matters. For that reason I did not hesitate to receive you.”
“May Your Majesty's wisdom be exalted, for the matter is indeed most grave, concerning as it does the very essence of national policy.”
The queen waited silently while the man mustered his strength. Then he continued, “Your Majesty, I am colliding with strong obstacles such that I have come to fear that I am not able to carry out my duty in a way that pleases both my conscience and His Majesty, Pharaoh.”
He was silent for a moment and snatched a quick look at the queen's calm face as if to examine the effect his words had had on her, or to await a word of encouragement for him to elaborate. The queen understood the meaning of his hesitation and said, “Speak, Prime Minister, I am listening to you.”
“I am colliding with these obstacles,” he said, “as a result of the decree issued by the king to seize most of the temple properties. The priests are troubled and have resorted to petitions which they have obediently submitted to Pharaoh, for they know that the temple estates were granted by the pharaohs favorably and in good faith. They are concerned that the revoking of the privilege will be greatly resented.”
The prime minister was silent for a moment then continued, “The clergy, Your Majesty, are the king's soldiery in time of peace. Peace needs men of sterner mettle than men of war, and among them are teachers, physicians, and preachers, while others are ministers and governors. They would not hesitate to give up their properties gladly if the harshness of war or famine required them to do so, but…” The man hesitated for a moment, then, lowering his voice, he continued, “But what saddens them is to see this wealth spent in other ways….”
He did not want to overstep this careful limit of allusion, for he had no doubt that she understood everything and knew everything. But she did not comment on his words, and seeing no alternative but to present to her the petitions, he said, “These petitions, Your Majesty, express the feelings of the high priests of the temples. My lord, the king, has refused to look at them. Could my lady peruse them, for the complainants are a portion of your loyal people and deserve your consideration.”
The queen accepted the petitions, and the prime minister placed them on a large table and stood silently, his head lowered. The queen made no promises, nor had he expected her to, but he was optimistic that the petitions had been received. Then she gave him permission to depart and he withdrew with his hands over his eyes.
On his way back, the prime minister said to himself, “The queen is extremely sad. Perhaps her sadness will serve our just cause.”
NITOCRIS
THE PRIME MINISTER disappeared through the door and the queen -was left alone in the large hall. She leaned her crowned head against the back of the throne, closed her eyes, and sighed deeply. The breath came out hot and stifled with sadness and pain. How long she had been patient and how much she had suffered. Not even those nearest to her knew of the tongues of flame that scorched her innards without mercy, for she had continued to regard people with a face like the Sphinx, calm and shrouded in silence.
There was nothing about the matter that she did not know. She had witnessed the tragedy from the first scene. She had seen the king topple into the abyss, fall prey to an untamable passion, and rush into the arms of that woman, -whose ravishing beauty every tongue extolled, without a thought for anyone else. A poisoned arrow had pierced her self-respect and wound its way into her deepest, inmost emotions. But she had not flinched, and a violent struggle had arisen in her breast between the woman with a heart and the queen with a crown. The experience had proven that like her father, she was unyielding; the crown had tempered the heart and pride had smothered love. She had withdrawn within her sad self, a prisoner behind curtains, and so she had lost the battle and emerged from it broken winged, not having fired a single arrow from her bow.
The real irony was that they were still newly wed, though that short time had been sufficient to reveal the violent defiance and capricious passion that his soul harbored, for he had wasted no time in filling the harem with countless slave girls and concubines from Egypt, Nubia, and the lands of the North. She had paid no attention to them, for none of them had driven him away from her and she had continued to be his queen, and the queen of his heart, until that enchanting woman had appeared on his horizon and so fatally attracted him, altogether taking over his emotions and his mind, and totally distracting him from his wife, his harem, and his loyal advisers. Hope had played with her deceptively for a time and then given her over to despair, despair shrouded in pride, and she felt her heart imbibing the agony of death.
There were times when madness coursed through her veins and a fleeting light shone in her eyes. She wanted to jump up and thrash about and avenge her broken heart, then quickly she would say to herself with great scorn, “How can it be right for Nitocris to compete with a woman who sells her body for pieces of gold?” Her blood would cool down and the sadness would freeze in her heart like deadly poison in the stomach.
But today it had been proven to her that there were hearts other than hers suffering pain as a result of the king's irresponsibility. Here was Khnumhotep complaining to her of his concerns, and telling her quite openly, “It is not right that the property of the temples should be seized so that Rhadopis the dancer can squander it.” Moreover, the cream of the wise men believed in what he was saying. Should she not come out of her silence? If she did not speak now, then when was she supposed to cure his madness with her wisdom? It pained her that these whispered grumblings should reach the unshakeable throne. She felt that her duty required her to remove the apprehensions and to restore some semblance of order. What did her pride matter? She would step on it. She resolved to move forward with steadfast steps along the path of equanimity, with the help of the gods.
The queen was relieved with this line of thought that had come about as a result of her wisdom and inner conviction. Her former stubbornness disappeared, having persevered long and desperately, and now she was firmly resolved to confront the king with strength and sincerity.
She left the hall and returned to her royal chamber, and spent the remainder of the day in thought and contemplation. During the night her sleep was intermittent and fraught with torment, and she was desperate for noon to come, for that was when the king awoke after his busy night. Feeling no compunction, she walked confidently over to the king's quarters. Her unusual journey caused some commotion among the guards, and they saluted her.
“Where is His Majesty the King?” she asked one of them.
“In his private quarters, Your Majesty,” replied the man reverently.
She walked slowly to the room where the king spent time on his own, and passing through the large door, she found him sitting in the center of the room a good forty feet from the entrance. The chamber was filled with works of art and opulence of indescribable beauty. The king was not expecting to see her and it had been several days since they had last met. He rose to his feet in surprise and greeted her with a nervous smile, and motioned to her to sit down. “May the gods bring you happiness, Nitocris. If I had known you wanted to see me
I would have come to you,” he said.
The queen sat silently and said to herself, “How does he know I did not want to meet him all this time?” then she directed her words to him. “I do not want to disturb you, Brother. I have no objection coming to you so long as it is duty which moves me.”
The king paid no attention to her words because he was feeling acutely distressed, for her coming and her expressionless face had moved him. “I am embarrassed, Nitocris,” he said.
She was surprised that he should say so. It had irked her slightly to see him so happy and in such good health, like a radiant flower, and despite her self-composure she was agitated. “Nothing hurts me more than your being embarrassed.”
It was the most delicate insinuation but it irritated him and changed his mood. He bit his lip and said, “Sister, men are subject to oppressive desires, and may fall prey to one of them.”
His admission struck cruelly at her pride and feelings, and she forgot about being reasonable and spoke honestly, “By the gods, it saddens me that you, Pharaoh, should complain of oppressive desires.”
The irascible king felt the sting of her words and was roused to anger. The blood rushed to his head, and he shot to his feet, his face boding evil. The queen was afraid that his anger at her would spoil the anger on behalf of which she had come, and she regretted what she had said. “It is you who drives me to say such things, Brother,” she said hopefully, “but that is not why I have come. Your anger no doubt will wax doubly when I tell you that I have come to you to discuss grave matters which touch upon the politics of the kingdom upon whose throne we sit together.”