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
