He awoke at dawn to the sound of a trumpet and rose, feeling a strange energy at odds with the exhaustion, weakness, and lack of sleep that he had suffered. He left his tent and in the quietness of morning heard movement stirring throughout the camp and saw the wraiths of his men coming toward him, recognizing his faithful, valiant officers from their voices and greeting them warmly. They had done much during his absence. One of them said, “We sent the wounded in boats to Thebes and those who were lightly injured too, so that they could join the defenders of the walls of Thebes. Thebes will certainly defend itself well, to obtain the best conditions.”
Another officer told him — with great ardor, “We people of the South pay little heed to life at times of trial. There isn't a man among us whose patience has not run out waiting for the final battle.”
A third said, “How — we long to find martyrdom in this sacred spot, watered by the pure blood of our sovereign!”
Pepi praised them warmly and related to them what had taken place in Thebes by way of the flight of the royal family but did not tell anyone — where they — were headed. This news affected the officers deeply and they cheered for King Kamose, for Ahmose the crown prince, and for the Sacred Mother, Tetisheri.
The shadows of night dissolved and a brilliant light was reflected on the sky of the horizon. The soldiers formed their ranks in preparation for the battle of death. The king of the Herdsmen understood well what had come over the army of the Egyptians after the death of their sovereign and he wanted to strike a lightning blow with such forces as would paralyze any resistance on their part. Thus, chariots and archers readied themselves at the head of his troops, in order to put paid with one stroke to the small army that barred their way. When the two hordes caught sight of one another, the fighting started, the raging sea joined up with the quiet stream, the army of Apophis closed in on the Egyptian army, and the wheel of death started to turn. The Egyptians gave everything men can give by way of bravery and heroism, but they fell fast, hero after hero, and the horses’ hooves trampled them cruelly. It seemed to Pepi that the battle would be over quickly, especially when he saw how many commanders and officers were meeting their ends. Seeing his right wing rapidly reduced to nothing and the enemy on the verge of surrounding them, he decided to end his life as nobly as possible. He surveyed the army of his enemy and set his sights on the place where the flag of the Hyksos fluttered above Apophis and his higher commanders, among whom, no doubt, stood the killer of Seqenenra, and he made that his target, ordering his guard to follow him and protect his back; then he ordered his driver to dash forward. It was a sudden move, unexpected by the enemy, which was ever cautious of its own safety. His chariot avoided all those that sought to bar its path and, firing its arrows into the hearts of the lancers, drew closer and closer to Apophis, till most had divined its goal. Then they cried out in fear and anger, and Pepi and those with him fought as though crazed by love of death. Death pampered them long enough for them to burst through the ranks to the line of Apophis and his commanders, where Pepi found himself surrounded on all sides by enemy horsemen and saw hundreds of foot soldiers interpose themselves between his chariot and the king. He fought fiercely, blood flowing from his face, neck, and legs, until it seemed to the enemy that he must be immortal, and the arrows andjavelins, the swords and daggers, tore at him like ravenous dogs and he fell as Seqenenra fell, surrounded closely by his valiant guards, the army shaken by his terrible attack. The combat, in the field, was at its end and the Egyptians were breathing their last. Apophis ordered his men to draw back from the corpse of the man who had swooped down upon him through the serried ranks. He descended from his chariot and approached it on foot till he was standing at its head and contemplated the arrows that were planted in every part of it like the quills of a hedgehog. Then he shook his big head and smiled and said to those around him, “He died a death worthy of our bravest men!”
15
Thebes awoke as on any other day, knowing nothing of what was written for it on Fate's tablet. Then villagers appeared, carrying the wounded from the field of battle. The people gathered around them and started asking them question after question. The peasants told them the truth of what had happened, telling them that the army had been defeated and Pharaoh killed, and that his family had fled to an unknown place. The people were stupefied and exchanged looks of denial and alarm. As the news spread in the city, it filled with disturbance and commotion, the people leaving their houses, hastening to the highways and markets, and gathering in the government offices and the temple of Amun to take comfort from the crowd and listen to their leaders. The nobles and the rich who owned estates and villas fled them in terror and groups escaped to the south or hid themselves in the poor quarters.
More sad news arrived, of the fall of Gesyi and Shanhur, and of the Herdsmen's advance toward Thebes to besiege it and force it to surrender. The ministers, the priests, and the thirty judges met in the Hall of the Columns at the temple of Amun and consulted with one another, all aware of the gravity of the situation and feeling that the end was near and resistance futile. Nevertheless, they did not favor surrender without conditions or restrictions, believing that they could stay behind their impenetrable walls till they had obtained a promise to spare the blood of the citizens — all but User-Amun, who was greatly agitated and unable to contain his anger. He told them, “Never surrender Thebes! Let us resist to the death like our sovereign Seqenenra. The walls of Thebes cannot be breached and if they are really threatened, then let us lay waste to the city and set fire to it! Let us leave nothing to Apophis from which he might benefit!”
User-Amun raged and gestured with his hands as though he were preaching, but the men were not enthusiastic about his idea. Nofer-Amun said, “We are responsible for the lives of the people of Thebes and its destruction will expose thousands of them to the loss of their houses and to hunger and misery. Though we have lost the battle, let our goal be to minimize the damage and limit the destruction.”
Meanwhile, the Herdsmen were pitilessly attacking the northern wall, the guards resisting them steadfastly and courageously, the dead falling on both sides. The ministers had made an inspection of the wall and were reassured as to the resistance, but the enemy's fleet assaulted that of the Egyptians after receiving reinforcements, and a fierce battle took place that ended with the smashing of the Egyptian navy. The Herdsmen's fleet then laid siege to western Thebes and many soldiers disembarked to the south of the city, making the siege of the city complete. They followed with a fierce attack from the north, south, and east, threatening it with famine and thirst. The leaders thus saw no alternative but to surrender in order to avoid a catastrophe and they sent an officer to announce a halt to the fighting and seek permission for an envoy from the city to approach in order to discuss the conditions for a final surrender. The officer returned having secured this agreement and the fighting on all the walls came to a halt. The leaders chose Nofer-Amun, the High Priest of Amun, to be their envoy.
The priest accepted reluctantly and mounted his carriage, which took him, eyes downcast, heart broken, toward the Herdsmen's camp. On his way, he passed the various divisions drawn up in rows in all their strength, arrogance, and vainglory. He found some officers waiting for him, at their head a man of short stature, stout, with a thick beard, whom he recognized from the first glance as the envoy Khayan, the herald of ill-fortune who had brought ruin with him to the kingdom of Thebes. The gloating nature of his reception was not lost on Nofer-Amun — the man appeared arrogant, haughty, and puffed up with pride. Looking at Nofer-Amun out of the corner of his eye, he said without greeting, “You see, Priest, the pass to which your prince's views have brought you? You get very excited and make beautiful speeches, but you cannot fight a war and your kingdom has been condemned to disappear forever!”
The chamberlain did not wait for a reply but proceeded in front of him toward the king's tent. Nofer-Amun saw that the tent was like a pavilion, hung with curtains, before it the white,
gross guardsmen with their long beards. Permission was granted and he entered and saw in the foreground King Apophis, dressed as a pharaoh, and with the double crown of Egypt on his head. He was terrifying in appearance, with penetrating gaze, white-complexioned with a reddish cast, and a beautiful, flowing beard. He was seated in the midst of a circle of his commanders, chamberlains, and advisers, and the priest bowed to him respectfully and stood silently waiting his command. The king said in sarcastic tones, “Welcome to the priest of Amun, who after today will never again be worshipped in the land of Egypt!”
The priest did not acknowledge these words and remained silent. Then the king laughed loudly and asked him contemptuously, “Are you come to us to dictate to us your conditions?”
Nofer-Amun replied, “Nay, I have come, King, to listen to your conditions, as must the leader of a people who have lost their battle and their sovereign. I have but one request, that you spare the blood of a people who took up arms only to defend its existence.”
The king shook his large head and said, “It would be better for you, Priest, to listen carefully to me. The law of the Hyksos does not change over the days and the generations. It is the way of war and power forever. We are white and you are dark. We are masters and you are peasants. Throne, government, and command are ours. So say to your people, ‘He who works on our land as a slave will be paid and he who cannot bring himself to do so, let him flee wherever he please in some other land.’ And tell them, “I shall spill the blood of a whole town if any harm comes to one of my men. And if you wish me to spare the people's blood, other than that of Seqenenra's family, have your lords come to me on their knees, the keys of Thebes in their hands. As for you, Priest, go back to your temple and close its doors upon yourselves forever!”
Apophis did not wish to extend the meeting further and he rose to show that it was over, so the priest bowed again and departed the place.
Thebes drank its cup to the dregs. The ministers and judges took its keys and went to Apophis and knelt before him. Thebes opened its gates and Apophis entered at the head of his victorious, conquering armies.
On that day, Apophis made the blood of the family of the ruler of Thebes free for any man to take and ordered all the borders between Egypt and Nubia closed. Then he celebrated his victory with a mighty celebration in which all his armies took part and he divided the land and the wealth among his men. And the South, land and people, fell into his hands.
TEN YEARS LATER
1
The clouds of darkness parted, revealing the sleepy blue of dawn. The surface of the Nile appeared, breathing the breezes of first light. A convoy of ships was descending the river, its head pointing toward the border of Egypt, to the north. The sailors were Nubians, while their two commanders, who were seated in the ship's forward deck cabin, were Egyptians, as their brown complexion and clear features showed. The first was a youth barely twenty years old, endowed by nature with great height, a slender, graceful figure, and a firm, broad chest. His oval face was radiant with the bloom of youth and an exquisite beauty, his black eyes with purity and goodness, and his fine, straight nose with strength and symmetry. It was one of those faces to which nature lends its own majesty and beauty in equal portion. He was wearing the clothes of a rich merchant and had wrapped his lissome body in a costly cloak that perfectly fitted his form. His companion was a man in his sixties, somewhat lean and short, with a prominent, high, straight forehead. His posture manifested the tranquility that often accompanies old age, while his eyes were penetrating. His interest appeared to center more on the youth than on the merchandise carried by the ship and when the convoy approached the region of the border, they left the cabin and went to the prow, gazing with tender, longing eyes. With excitement and apprehension, the youth asked, “Do you think we will set foot on the soil of Egypt? Tell me what we are going to do now.”
The old man replied, “We shall anchor the convoy on this shore and send an envoy in a boat up to the border to find a way ahead, which he will pave with pieces of gold.”
“Everything depends on their reputation for acquiescence to bribery and responsiveness to the lure of gold. But if our expectations are disappointed…”
The youth stopped talking, anxiety in his eyes. The old man said, “So long as one expects nothing but evil from these people, his expectations will not be disappointed!”
The ship turned toward the shore, the rest of the convoy following, and dropped anchor. The youth chose himself to be the convoy's representative. He was so excited and determined that the old man did not stop him and the youth transferred to a boat and rowed with his sinewy arms, leaving the convoy and heading for the border. The old man followed him with his eyes, pleading earnestly, “Lord God Amun, this little son of yours seeks entry to your country for a noble purpose: to strengthen your authority, elevate your name, and liberate your sons. Help him, Lord! Grant him victory, and keep him safe!”
The youth left, pulling strongly on the oars, his back to his goal, turning every now and then to look behind him, his breast burning with longing. As he approached, the very air of his country seemed to acquire a new deliciousness, to which his heart responded with violent pounding. Then, at one of his backward glances, he saw a small war ship moving upstream toward him to cut him off. He realized that the border guards had noticed him and were coming to investigate and brought his boat toward the ship until he heard the voice of the officer standing in the bow shouting at him, “What are you doing, fellow, approaching the prohibited area?”
The youth kept silent until the boat was in the lee of the ship, then respectfully and humbly greeted the bearded officer and, feigning stupidity, said, “The Lord Seth bless you, brave officer! I am bound for your glorious country with costly merchandise!”
The officer scowled and said roughly, “Be off with you, fool! Don't you know that this route has been closed for ten years?”
The handsome youth made a show of astonishment and said, “Then what must one like me, who has collected together costly goods to bring to the divine pharaoh of Egypt and the men of his kingdom, do? Will you allow me to meet the noble governor of Biga Island?”
The officer responded brutally, “You would do better to go back to where you came from while still alive, if you don't want to be buried where you stand prattling.”
The youth pulled out from under his cloak a purse, full of gold pieces, and threw it at the officer's feet, saying, “In our country, — we greet our gods by offering them presents. Accept my greetings and my request!”
The officer picked up the purse and opened it and his fingertips played with the pieces of gold. His eyelids blinked and he looked back and forth in stupefaction from the gold to the youth. Then he shook his head as though unable to hide his exasperation at this young man who had forced him to go back on his decision and he said in a quiet voice, “Entering Egypt is forbidden. However, your honorable intentions may merit your exemption from the ban. Follow me to the governor of the island.”
The youth was delighted, and took his seat once more in the boat and pulling strongly and energetically on the oars continued downstream in the wake of the ship, heading for the shore of Biga. The ship anchored, and then the boat, and the youth put his feet on the ground with care and affection, as though treading on something pure and holy. The officer said to him again, “Follow me!” and he followed in his footsteps. In spite of his effort to maintain control of his emotions, he let himself go; intoxication filled his senses and sublime tenderness seized his heart, which would not stop beating wildly. His feelings became so agitated that he fast became overwhelmed. He was in the land of Egypt! The Egypt of which he retained the most beautiful recollections, the most charming images, and the happiest memories! He would have loved to be left alone to fill his breast with its soft breeze and rub its dust into his cheeks! He was in the land of Egypt!
He awoke from his reverie to the unfamiliar voice of the officer telling him for the third time, “Follow me!” and he look
ed and he saw the palace of the governor of the island. The officer went in and he followed, paying no attention to the piercing looks directed toward him from all sides.
2
He was given permission to enter the reception hall, the officer preceding him. It was the place — where the governor received those whose complaints could be settled simply with gold. The youth cast a look at the governor as he went by, taking in his thick, long beard, his piercing, almond-shaped eyes, and his prominent nose, so hooked as to look like the sail of a boat. The man regarded the newcomer minutely, with a cautious and dubious look. The youth bowed before him with great reverence and said with extreme politeness, “The Lord bless your morning, noble governor!”
The officer had spoken to him of the strange arrival who carelessly threw down purses full of gleaming gold pieces and led a convoy loaded with gifts with which to acquire the acquaintance of Egypt's masters. He returned the greeting with a wave of his hand and asked in a gruff, deep voice, “Who are you, and of what country?”
“My lord, I am called Isfinis and my country is Napata, of the land of Nubia.”
The man shook his head doubtingly and said, “But I see that you are not Nubian and, if my eyes are not mistaken, you are a peasant.”
Three Novels of Ancient Egypt Page 47
