Prince Kamose leapt up in terror and shouted at him, “Is my father really injured?”
Pepi said in a sad, heavy voice, “Our sovereign Seqenenra fell fighting at the head of his troops like a mighty hero. That noble, undying page in the annals of your mighty family has been turned.”
Raising his head, Kamose said, “Dear God, how could you let your enemy overcome your faithful son? Dear God, what is this catastrophe that falls on Egypt? But what use is it to complain? This is not the time to weep. My father has fallen, so I must take his place. Wait, Commander, till I return to you in my battle dress!”
However, Commander Pepi said quickly, “I did not come here, my lord, to summon you to the fight. That matter, alas, is decided.”
Kamose gave him a sharp hard look and asked, “What do you mean?”
“There is no point in fighting.”
“Has our brave army been destroyed?”
Pepi hung his head and said with extreme sorrow, “We lost the decisive battle by which we had hoped to liberate Egypt, and the main force of our army was destroyed. There is no real advantage to be gained from fighting and we will fight only to provide the family of our martyred sovereign time to escape.”
“You want to fight so that we can flee like cowards, leaving our soldiers and our country prey to the enemy?”
“No. I want you to flee as do the wise who weigh the consequences of their actions and look to the distant future, submitting to defeat should it occur, and withdrawing from the combat for a time, then losing no time in gathering their scattered forces and starting anew. Please, my lord, summon the queens of Egypt and let the matter be decided by counsel.”
Prince Kamose summoned a chamberlain and sent him to look for the queens, while he kept pacing to and fro, alternately seized by sorrow and anger, the commander standing before him uttering not a word. The queens came hurrying, Tetisheri and Ahotep, then Setkimus, and when their eyes fell on Commander Pepi and he had bowed to them in greeting, and they had seen the anguish written on Kamose's face despite his apparent calm, they felt fear and agitation and looked away. Impatiently, Kamose and he asked them to sit and said, “Ladies, I called you to give you sad news.”
He paused a moment so that they would not be taken unawares, but they were alarmed and Tetisheri asked anxiously, “What news, Pepi? How is our lord Seqenenra?”
Kamose replied in a trembling voice, “Grandmother, your heart is perceptive, your intuition speaks true. God strengthen your hearts and help you bear the painful news. My father Seqenenra was killed in the field and we have lost the battle.”
He turned his head from them so that he would not see their grief and said, as though to his own despairing soul, “My father has been killed, our armies defeated, and our people condemned to suffer every woe, from the near south to the distant north.”
Tetisheri, unable to restrain herself, let out a sigh so anguished she seemed to be vomiting up the fragments of her heart, and said, hand on heart, “How sharp a wound for this aged heart to bear!”
Ahotep and Setkimus sat with lowered heads, hot tears oozed from their eyes, and, were it not for the commander's presence, they would have sobbed out loud.
Surrounded by all this sorrow, Pepi stood silent, his heart heavy, every sense shattered. He hated to waste time futilely and, fearing that the opportunity for his lord's family to escape would be lost, he said, “Queens of the family of my lord Kamose, be patient and strong! Though the matter is too grave for composure, yet the moment calls for wisdom and not for a surrender to sorrow. I entreat you, by the memory of my lord Seqenenra, staunch your tears with patience and pack your belongings, for tomorrow Thebes will be no safe refuge.”
Tetisheri asked him, “And Seqenenra's body?”
“Put your mind at rest, my lady. I shall fulfill my duty to it in full.”
Once more she posed a question, “And where do you want us to go?”
“My lady, the kingdom of Thebes will fall into the hands of the invaders for a while but we have another safe home in Nubia. The Herdsmen will never covet Nubia, for life there is a struggle they are too pampered to bear. Take it as a secure refuge. There you have supporters from our own people and followers among our neighbors, and there you will be able to take stock in peace, foster hope for a new future, and work for that with patience and courage, until such time as the Lord grants that glorious light pierce the shadows of this dark night.”
Kamose was listening to him calmly and tranquilly and he said, “Let the family flee to Nubia. For myself, I prefer to be at the head of my army and share its fortunes, in life and in death.”
Seized by anxiety, the commander looked pleadingly at his lord and said, “My lord, I can never turn you aside from something that you have decided, so I entrust the matter to your wisdom. All I ask is that you listen to me a little.
“My lord, to fight today is to waste oneself wantonly and destruction will be the unavoidable outcome. Egypt will not benefit by your death, nor will your death alleviate any of her sufferings. However, there is no doubt that if she lose you, she will lose something that cannot be replaced. All hopes of salvation depend on your life, so do not deny Egypt hope after she has been denied happiness. Make Napata your goal and set off! There you will find space to think and plan and prepare means of defense and struggle. This war will not end as Apophis wants, for a people such as ours that has lived a sovereign nation cannot tolerate humiliation for long. Thebes will be liberated within a short time, my lord. Your determination will never flag and you will pursue the filthy Herdsmen until you have driven them from your country. The glory ofthat wonderful day hovers before my eyes in the darkness of the melancholy present. So do not hesitate, but be resolute in your wisdom. Now that I have shown you the proper path, decide as you see fit.”
Pepi stopped speaking but his eyes continued to plead and hope and Tetisheri turned to Kamose and said in a low voice, “What the commander says is true, so follow his advice.”
The unhappy commander felt a ray of hope and joy sprang again in his heart, but Kamose frowned and said nothing. Lying for the first time in his life, Pepi said, “I myself will join you there in a short while. I have two sacred duties to perform: to take care of my lord's corpse, and to oversee the reinforcement of the walls of Thebes. Perhaps that way, by successful resistance, we will be able to bargain for surrender on the best terms.”
The queens were unable to contain themselves any longer and burst out weeping, and Pepi himself was overcome and said, “We must be brave in the face of this adversity. Let us take Seqenenra as our model and remember always, my lord, that the cause of our defeat was the war chariots. If one day you turn against the enemy anew, make chariots your -weapon. Now I must go to summon the slaves to load up the golden valuables and weapons that are in the palace that cannot be dispensed with.”
With these words, Commander Pepi left.
12
The palace was filled with sudden activity. All the rooms were lit and the slaves set about loading up the clothes, arms, and caskets of gold and silver, taking them to the royal ship in mournful silence under the supervision of the head chamberlain. The royal family waited the while in King Kamose's room, plunged in melancholy silence, heads bent, eyes darkened with despair and grief. They remained thus for a while, until Chamberlain Hur came in to them and said in a low voice, “It is finished, my lord.”
The chamberlain's words entered their ears as an arrow does the flesh. Their hearts beat fast and they raised their heads distractedly, exchanging looks of despair and grief. Was everything truly finished? Had the hour of farewell come? Was this the end of the era of the palace of the pharaohs, of Thebes the Glorious, and of immortal Egypt? Would they be denied henceforth the sight of the obelisk of Amenhotep, the temple of Amun, and the hundred-gated walls? Would Thebes reject them today only to open its gates tomorrow to Apophis so that he might ascend the throne and hold the power of life and death in his hands? How could the guides become the lost,
the lords the fugitives, the masters of the house the dispossessed?
Kamose saw that they had not moved, so he rose lethargically and muttered in a low voice, “Let us bid farewell to my father's room.” They stood as he had, and the family proceeded with heavy, listless steps to the room of the departed king and stood before its closed door, intimidated, not knowing how they could intrude without his permission or face its emptiness. Hur moved forward a step and opened the door. They entered, their labored breaths and ardent sighs preceding them, and their looks hung with tenderness and love on the mighty hall, the luxurious seats, and elegant tables, their attention coming to rest on the king's oratory, with its beautiful, sanctified niche, in which had been sculpted his image, making obeisance before the Lord Amun. All of them could see him sitting on his divan, supporting himself on his cushion, smiling his sweet smile at them, and inviting them to sit. They all felt his soul enfold them and surround them and their sorrowful spirits hovered in the heaven of their memories — memories of a mother, a wife, and a son, memories whose traces mingled with their deep sighs and freely flowing tears.
Kamose awoke to the hearts dissolving about him, and, approaching the image of his father, bent reverently before it, gave its brow a kiss, and then turned aside. Next Tetisheri came forward and bent over the beloved image, planting on its brow a kiss into which she put all the pains of her bereaved and mourning heart. All the family bade farewell to the image of their lost lord and then they left as they had entered, in sorrowing silence.
Kamose found Chamberlain Hur waiting for him and asked, ‘And you, Hur?”
“My duty, my lord, is to follow you like a faithful dog.”
The king put his hand on his shoulder in thanks and they all advanced through the pillared halls, Commander Pepi going before them and Kamose walking at the head of his family, followed by the little prince and princess, Ahmose and Nefertari, then Tetisheri, then Queen Ahotep, and then Queen Setkimus, with Chamberlain Hur bringing up the rear. They descended the stairs to the colonnade, arriving finally in the garden, where slaves accompanied them on either side, carrying torches and lighting the way before them. They reached the ship and were taken out to it one by one, until it had gathered them all. Now came the moment of departure and they took there a farewell look, their eyes losing themselves in the darkness that reigned over Thebes as though enfolding it in garments of mourning. Their stricken hearts broke, wrung by the pain of their tender longing, silence engulfing them so that they seemed almost to have melted into the darkness. Pepi stood before them not saying a word and not daring to break that sad silence, until the king noticed his presence and, sighing, said to him, “The time to say farewell has come.”
Pepi said, in a sad and trembling voice, fighting hard to master his emotions, “My lord, would that I had died before I found myself in this position. Let my consolation be that you travel in the path of the Lord Amun and of glorious Thebes. I see that the time to say farewell has truly come, as you say, my lord. So go, and may the Lord protect you with His mercy and watch over you with the eye of His concern. I hope that I may live long enough to witness the day of your return as I have the day of your departure, so that my eye may be gladdened once more by the sight of dear Thebes. Farewell, my lord! Farewell, my lord!”
“Say, till we meet again!”
“Indeed! Till we meet again, my lord!”
He approached his lord and kissed his hand, still controlling his emotions lest he wet that noble hand with his tears. Then he kissed the hands of Tetisheri, Queen Ahotep, Queen Setkimus, the crown prince Ahmose, and his sister Nefertari. He took the hand of Chamberlain Hur affectionately, bowed his head to them all, and left the ship, dazed and silent.
At the garden steps, he stood and watched as the ship started to move with the touch of the oars on the water and drew away from the shore, slowly and deliberately, as though feeling the weight of the sadness of those on board, who had all gathered at the rail, their throbbing spirits bidding farewell to Thebes. Then he let himself go and wept, surrendering himself till his body shook. He continued to look after the precious ship as it slipped into the darkness until it was swallowed by the night. Then he sighed from the depths of his heart and remained where he was, unable to leave the shore and as lonely as if he had fallen live into a deep grave. Finally, he turned slowly away and returned to the palace with slow, sluggish steps, muttering “My Lord, my Lord, where are you? Where are you, my Masters? People of Thebes, how can you sleep in peace when death hovers over your heads? Arise! Seqenenra is dead and his family has fled to the ends of the earth, yet you sleep. Arise! The palace is empty of its masters. Thebes has bid farewell to its kings and tomorrow an enemy -will occupy your throne. How can you sleep? Outside the walls, humiliation lies waiting!”
Taking a torch, the commander walked dejectedly through the halls of the palace, moving from -wing to -wing until he found himself before the throne room, and turned toward it and crossed its threshold, saying, “Forgive me, my lord, for entering without your permission!” To the light of the torch he advanced with faltering steps between the two rows of chairs on which the affairs of state had been settled until he ended at the throne of Thebes and knelt, then prostrated himself and kissed the ground. Then he stood sadly in front before it, the light of the torch flickering with a reddish glow upon his face, and said in a loud voice: “Truly a beautiful and immortal page has turned! We, the dead tomorrow, shall be the happiest people in this valley that never before knew night. Throne, it saddens me to tell you that your master will never return to you and that his heir has gone to a distant land. As for me, I shall never allow you to be the site where the words that tomorrow will consign Egypt to misery take form. Apophis shall never sit upon you. May you disappear as your master disappeared!”
Pepi had resolved to summon soldiers from the palace guard and carry the throne off to wherever he might decide.
13
The soldiers picked up the throne as he commanded and set it on a large carriage. The commander walked before it to the temple of Amun and there they picked up the throne a second time and proceeded behind their commander, preceded by priests, to the sacred hall. In the sacred dwelling, close to the Holy of Holies, they beheld the royal litter, surrounded by soldiers and priests. They placed the throne at its side, astonishment registering on the faces of the priests, who had no forewarning of the matter. Pepi ordered the soldiers to depart and asked for the chief priest. The priest disappeared for a short while, then returned following the priest of Amun, who, understanding well the gravity of such a nocturnal visit, came hurrying, his hand extended to the commander, and saying in his quiet voice, “Good evening, Commander.”
Pepi answered in accents that betrayed his concern and anguish, “And to you too, Your Holiness. May I speak with Your Holiness alone?”
The priests heard what he said and quickly withdrew despite their curiosity and disquiet, leaving the place empty. When the chief priest noticed the litter and the throne, dismay appeared on his face and he said to the commander, “What has brought the carriage here? What is this litter and how comes it that you have left the field at this time of night?”
Pepi replied, “Listen to me, Your Holiness. There is nothing to be gained by delay or by making light of our situation. But you must hear me out so that I may inform Your Holiness of everything I know and then go to perform my duty. A battle that will be remembered forever has taken place, in which pain and glory alike took part. No wonder, for we have lost the battle for Egypt, our sovereign has been slain defending his country, treacherous hands have ripped apart his pure body, our royal family has fled Thebes, and, when the people of Thebes awake, they will find no trace of their kings or their glory. Gently, Your Holiness, gently! It is midnight, or almost so, and my duty calls out to me to make haste. This litter bears the corpse of our sovereign Seqenenra and his crown and here is his throne. This is our national heritage that I entrust to you, Priest of Amun, that you may preserve the body and
keep it safe and keep these relics in a secure resting place. Now I commend you to the Lord's safekeeping, priest of that Thebes that will never die, though it reel under its wounds!”
The priest would have interrupted the commander, so agitated was he, but the commander did not allow him and he maintained a wooden silence, holding himself unmoving as though lost to all feeling. Pepi grasped the stupefaction and pain that the man must be feeling and said, “I commend you to the Lord's keeping, Your Holiness, confident that you will carry out your duties toward these sacred, precious relics in full.”
The commander turned away from him toward the litter, bowed his head reverently to kiss its covering, and gave it a military salute. Then he walked back-ward away from it, the litter hidden from his eyes by his tears. When he reached the stairs leading to the Hall of the Columns, he turned his back and walked quickly out of the temple, sparing glances for nothing. He knew that the time had come for him to rejoin his officers and men, so that he might make the last attack -with them, as he had promised.
His preoccupation with his duties did not, however, make him forget something -which, as soon as he thought of it, weighed unceasingly on his heart: his family — Ebana his wife, his little son Ahmose, and all the kin -who lived together on his farm on the outskirts of Thebes. He could not cover the distance to his farm by night and were he to do so he would not be able to fulfill his promise to his soldiers and they would think he had fled. He would meet his end without casting a farewell glance at the faces of Ebana and Ahmose. Yet there was something that weighed even more on his heart. He asked himself sorrowfully, “Will the Herdsmen leave the landowner on his land or leave those who have wealth their wealth? Tomorrow, the masters will be driven into the streets or murdered in their houses and Ebana and Ahmose will be left with no one to take their part.” The man grew dejected and for a long while his heart tugged toward his house and family, but his heart was on one course and his will of steel on another. He sighed in sorrow and said, “Let me then write her a letter,” and, having spread out a sheet on his chariot, wrote to Ebana, extending his greetings, commending her to the Lord's keeping, and praying for his son's safety and happiness. Then he narrated to her the events that had occurred and what had happened to the army and its sovereign. And he told her of the royal family's flight to a place unknown (omitting, for reasons of his own, to mention Nubia) and advised her to collect as much of her wealth as she could and flee with her son and those of the family and their neighbors who were dependent on her to the country outside Thebes, or to one of the quarters of the poor, where she could mix with the common folk and share with them a common fate. Finally, he gave her and his son his blessings and ended the letter by saying, “We shall meet for certain, Ebana, here or in the Netherworld.” He gave the letter to his driver and charged him to take it to his country villa and deliver it to his wife, then jumped into his chariot, cast a last look at the temple of Amun and the peacefully sleeping city as it lay plunged in darkness and cried out from the depths of his heart, “Lord God, keep your city safe! Thebes, farewell!”