He stared at her with a harsh, scrutinizing look and saw that she was possessed of a pride, imagination, and cruelty that never softened or gave way to fear and that the overbearing, haughty characteristics of her people were all present in her. Overwhelmed by fury, he felt a burning desire to subdue and humble her, especially after she had belittled his emotions with her pride and boasting. In a haughty, quiet voice he said to her, “I can see no reason to continue this debate with you and I should not forget that I am a king and you a captive.”
“Captive if you wish, but I shall never be humbled.” “On the contrary, you are protected by my mercy, so this courage becomes you well.”
“My courage never abandons me. Ask your men who snatched me by treachery and they will tell you of my courage and my contempt for them at the most critical and dangerous of all times for me.”
He shrugged his broad shoulders disdainfully and, turning to the table, took his helmet and placed it on his head. But before he could take another step, he heard her say, “You spoke the truth when you said that I am a captive, and your ship is not the place for captives. Take me and put me with the captives of my people!”
He looked at her in anger and exasperation and said, to provoke and scare her, “The matter is not as you imagine. The custom is that the male captives are taken as slaves, while the females are added to the victorious king's harem.” Eyes widening, she said, “But I am a princess.” “You were a princess. Now you are just a captive.” “Whenever I think that one day I saved your life, I go mad.”
Quietly he said, “Long may the memory stay with you! It was for its sake that I saved your life from the insurgents — who wished to send your head to Apophis.”
He turned his back on her and left the chamber in anger and fury. The guards saluted him and he ordered them to set sail to the north of Thebes. Then he — went to the front of the ship — with heavy, dragging steps, filling his chest with the moist night air, while the ship continued on its way, descending with the ever-flowing Nile current and cleaving the darkness toward the north of Thebes.
The king set his eyes on the city, fleeing to it from the troubles of his soul. The light radiated from the fleet moored at the city's shore, while the lofty palaces, now that their owners had left them and fled, were plunged in darkness. In the distance, among the palaces and gardens, the light of the torches carried by joyful revelers appeared and the breeze brought the echo of their voices as they rose in cheers and hymns. A smile passed over his broad mouth and he realized that Thebes was giving the Army of Deliverance the reception it reserved for its triumphant armies and immortal feasts.
The ship drew close to the royal palace, passing alongside it on its course, and the king saw that its lamps had been lit, the light radiating from its windows and garden. From this he gathered that Hur was attending to its preparation and cleansing and that he had returned indeed to the performance of his original role in the palace of Seqenenra. Ahmose observed the palace garden anchorage and the painful memory came back to him of the night when the royal ship had carried his family away to the furthest south, while the blood spurted behind them.
The king paced back and forth on the deck of the ship, his look turning often to the princess's locked chamber, at which he would ask himself in displeasure and annoyance, “Why did they bring her to me? Why did they bring her to me?”
16
On the morning of the following day, Hur, the commanders, and the counselors — went early to visit the king on his ship moored north of Thebes. The king received them in his cabin and they prostrated themselves before him. Hur said in his quiet voice, “May the Lord make your morning joyful, triumphant king! We have left behind us the gates of Thebes, whose heart flutters with joy and shakes with longing to see the light of its savior and liberator's brow.”
Ahmose said, “Let Thebes rejoice. Our meeting, however, will come only when the Lord decrees us victory.”
Hur said, “Word has spread among the people that their sovereign is on his way to the north and that he welcomes any who has the ability to join him. Do not ask, my lord, about the enthusiasm that overflowed in the hearts of the young men or how they swarm around the officers asking to be inducted into the army of the Divine Ahmose!”
The king smiled and asked his men, “Have you visited the temple of Amun?”
Hur replied, “Indeed, my lord; we visited it all together and the soldiers hurried to it, stroking its corners, rubbing their faces in its dust, and embracing its priests. The altar overflowed with offerings, the priests sang the hymn of the Lord Amun, and their prayers echoed from the sides of the temple. Affection melted all hearts and the Thebans organized themselves altogether in collective prayer. Nofer-Amun, however, has yet to leave his seclusion.”
The king smiled and, happening to turn, saw Commander Ahmose Ebana standing silent and oppressed. He signaled to him to draw close and the commander approached his master. The king placed his hand on his shoulder and said to him, “Bear your portion of injury, Ahmose, and remember that the motto of your family is ‘Courage and Sacrifice.’ “
The commander bowed his head in thanks, the king's sympathy bringing him some solace. Ahmose looked at his men and said, “Counsel me on whom I should choose as governor of Thebes and charge — with the onerous task of organizing it.”
Commander Mheb said, “The best man for this critical post is the wise, loyal Hur.”
However, Hur quickly intervened to say, “My duty lies in watching vigilantly over my lord's servants, not in absenting myself from his presence.”
Ahmose said, “You are right and I cannot do without you.” Then Hur said, “There is a man of great virtue and experience, known for his wisdom and originality of thought, and that is Tuti-Amun, agent of the temple of Amun. If my lord wishes, let him charge this man with the affairs of Thebes.”
Ahmose said, “We declare him our governor of Thebes.” Then the king invited his men to take breakfast at his table.
17
The army passed the daylight hours dressing its wounds and taking its share of rest and recreation, song and drink. Those soldiers who were from Thebes raced one another to get to their homes, where hearts embraced and souls mingled. So great were the joy and emotion, that Thebes seemed as though it were the beating heart of the very world. Ahmose, however, did not leave his ship, and, summoning the officer charged with guarding the princess, asked him about her. The man told him that she had gone the night without tasting food. It occurred to him to put her on another ship, under the charge of trustworthy officers, but he could not arrive at a definite decision. He had no doubt that Hur was displeased at her presence on his ship and sure that the chamberlain found it difficult to understand why the daughter of Apophis should be given this honored status in his eyes. Ahmose knew the man inside out and that his heart had no place for anything but Thebes’ struggle. He, on the other hand, found his emotions athirst and overflowing. He was making himself sick with the effort of holding himself back from hovering about the chamber and its occupant or of distracting himself from his obsessive desire for her, despite his displeasure and anger. Anger does not destroy love, but conceals it briefly, just as mist may cloud briefly the face of a polished mirror, after — which it is gone and the mirror's original purity returns. He did not, therefore, give in to despair and would say to himself consolingly that maybe it was remnants of defeated pride and fallen conceit from which she suffered, that maybe her anger would go away and then she would discover the love that lay behind the outward show of hatred and relent, submit, and give love its due, just as she had anger. Was she not the one in the cabin, who had saved his life and granted him sympathy and love? Was she not the one who had become so upset by his absence that she had written him a message of reproof to hide the moans of suppressed love? How could these emotions of hers wither just because of an upsurge of pride and anger?
He waited until the late afternoon, then shrugged his broad shoulders, as though making light of the
matter, and went to the chamber. The guard saluted him and made way, and he entered with great hopes. He found her seated unmoving and silent, dejection and ennui showing in her blue eyes. Her dejection pained him and he said to himself, “Thebes for all its vast-ness was too narrow for her, so how must she feel now that she is a prisoner in this small chamber?” He stood unmoving before her and she straightened her back and raised her insolent eyes to him. He asked her gently, “How was your night?”
She did not answer and lowered her head to look at the ground. He cast a longing look at her head, shoulders, and bosom and repeated the question, feeling at the same time that his hope was not far off, “How was your night?”
She appeared not to want to abandon her silence, but raised her head sharply, and said, “It was the worst night of my life.”
He ignored her tone and asked her, “Why? Is there anything you lack?”
She replied without changing her tone, “I lack everything.”
“How so? I gave orders to the officer charged with guarding you to…”
She interrupted him with annoyance, “Don't even bother to speak of such things! I lack everything I love. I lack my father, my people, and my liberty. But I have everything that I hate: these clothes, this food, this chamber, and these guards.”
Once again he was stricken by disappointment and felt the collapse of his hopes and the disappearance of all he longed for. His features hardened and he said to her, “Do you want me to release you from your captivity and send you to your father?”
She shook her head violently and said vehemently, “Never!”
He looked at her in amazement and confusion but she resumed in the same tones, “So that it not be said that the daughter of Apophis abased herself before the enemy of her great father or that once she needed someone to comfort her.”
Aroused by anger and exasperation at her conceit and pride, he said, “You are not embarrassed to display your conceit because you feel sure of my compassion.”
“You lie!”
His face turned pale and he stared at her with a harsh look and said, “How callow you are, you who know nothing of sorrow or pain! Do you know the punishment for insulting a king? Have you ever seen a woman flogged? If I wished, I could have you kneeling at the feet of the least of my soldiers begging for pardon and forgiveness.”
He looked at her a long time to ascertain the effect of his threat on her and found her challenging him with her harsh, unflinching eyes. Anger swept over her with the same speed that it overtook all those of her race and she said sharply, “We are a people to whose hearts fear knows no path and our pride will not be brought low though the hands of men should grasp the heavens.”
He asked himself in his anger, should he attempt to humiliate her? Why should he not humiliate her and trample her pride into the ground? Was she not his captive, whom he could make into one of his slave girls? However, he did not feel at ease with this idea. He had had ambitions for something sweeter and lovelier, so that when his disappointment caught up with him, his pride rose up and his anger grew sharper. He renounced his desire to humiliate her, though he made his outward demeanor conceal his true thoughts, saying in tones as imperious as hers, “What I want does not require that you be tortured and for that reason you will not be tortured. And indeed, it would be bizarre for anyone to think of torturing a lovely slave girl like you.”
“No! A proud princess!”
“That was before you fell into my hands as a prisoner. Personally, I would rather add you to my harem than torture you. My will is what will decide.”
“You should know that your will may decide for you and your people, but not for me, and you will never put a hand on me alive.”
He shrugged his shoulders as though to make light of this, but she went on, “Among the customs passed down among us is that if one of us should fall into the snares of abjection and has no hope of rescue, he abstain from food until he die with honor.”
Contemptuously he said, “Really? But I saw the judges of Thebes driven to me, and prostrate themselves before me, groveling, their eyes pleading for pardon and mercy.”
Her face turned pale and she took refuge in silence.
The king, unable to listen to more of her words and suffering the bitterness of disappointment, could stay no longer. As he got ready to leave the chamber, he said, “You will not need to abstain from food.”
He left the chamber angry and depressed, having decided to transfer her to another ship. No sooner, however, had his anger died down and he was alone in his cabin than he changed his mind, and he did not give the order.
18
Chamberlain Hur appeared before the king in his cabin and said, “My lord, envoys from Apophis are come seeking permission to appear before you.”
Ahmose asked in surprise, “What do they want?”
The chamberlain said, “They say they carry a letter for your High Person.”
Ahmose said, “Summon them immediately!”
The chamberlain left the cabin and sent an officer to the envoys, returning to his master to wait. The envoys soon appeared with a small party of guards’ officers. They were three, the leader in front, and two others carrying an ivory chest. They were, as their flowing garments evidenced, chamberlains, white-faced and long-bearded. They raised their hands in greeting, without bowing, and then stood, with obvious insolence. Ahmose returned their greeting proudly and asked, “What do you want?”
Their leader said in an arrogant, foreign accent, “Commander.
Hur, however, did not let him complete what he intended to say, and said to him with his customary calm, “Envoy of Apophis, you are speaking to the pharaoh of Egypt.”
The leader said, “The war is still ongoing and its outcome is still to be decided. As long as we are still men and there are weapons in our hands, Apophis is pharaoh of Egypt, without partner.”
Ahmose gestured to his chamberlain to be quiet and said to the envoys, “Speak of the matter about which you came.”
The leader said, “Commander, on the day of the withdrawal from Thebes, the peasants abducted Her Royal Highness, the Princess Amenridis, daughter of our lord king, Apophis, Pharaoh of Egypt, son of the Lord Seth. Our lord desires to know whether his daughter is alive or did the peasants kill her.”
“Does your master remember what he did to our women and children at the siege of Thebes? Does he not remember how he exposed them to the arrows of their sons and husbands, which tore their bodies to pieces, while your cowardly soldiers sought shelter behind them?”
The man said sharply, “My lord does not shirk responsibility for what he does. War is a struggle to the death and mercy cannot be called on to prevent defeat.”
Ahmose shook his head in disgust and said, “On the contrary, war is an encounter between men, whose outcome is decided by the strong, while the weak suffer. For us it is a struggle that must not be allowed to suppress our gallantry and religious values… though I wonder at how the king can ask about his daughter, when such are his understanding of and opinions on — war.”
The envoy said — with disdain, “My master enquires for a reason that he alone knows and he neither asks for mercy, nor — will show it himself.”
Ahmose thought for a moment, not unaware of the motive that drove his enemy to ask after his daughter. He therefore asked clearly and in accents born of contempt, “Go back to your master and tell him that the peasants are a noble people who do not murder women and that the Egyptian soldiers think it below them to kill captives, and that his daughter is a captive who enjoys the magnanimity of her captors.”
Relief appeared on the man's face and he said, “These words of yours have saved the lives of many thousands of your people, women and children, whom the king has taken captive and whose lives are hostage for the life of Princess Amenridis.”
Ahmose said, “And hers for theirs.”
The man was silent for a moment and then he said, “I have been commanded not to return before I see her for m
yself.”
Displeasure appeared on Hur's face but Ahmose hastened to tell the envoy, “You shall see her yourself.”
The leader then indicated the ivory chest that his two followers were carrying and said, “This chest contains some of her clothes. Will you permit us to leave it in her room?”
The king was briefly silent, then said, “You may do so.”
However, Hur inclined his head toward his master and whispered, “We must search the clothes first.”
The king agreed with his chamberlain's opinion and the chamberlain ordered the chest placed before the king, who opened it with his own hands and took out the contents, garment by garment. In the course of so doing, he came across a small casket. This he took and opened, only to find therein the necklace with the emerald heart. The king's heart trembled when he saw it as he remembered how the princess had picked it out from among his other jewelry at the time when he was called Isfmis and sold gems, and his face reddened. Hur, however, said, “Is prison a proper place for baubles?”
The envoy said, “This necklace is the princess's favorite piece of jewelry. If the commander wishes, we shall leave it. If he does not, we shall take it — with us.”
Ahmose said, “There is nothing — wrong — with leaving it.” Then the king turned to the officers and ordered them to accompany the envoys to the princess's chamber, and the envoys left, the officers behind them.
19
The same evening, forces coming from the south, recently trained at Apollonopolis Magna and Hierakonpolis, caught up with the army and small ships loaded with weapons and siege towers sent from Ombos moored at the harbor of Thebes. The captain gave the king the good tidings that a force of chariots and trained horsemen would arrive soon. Men from Thebes and Habu were inducted into the army, with the result that Ahmose's army both replaced the men it had lost and increased its number beyond that it had possessed the day it first crossed the borders in its invasion. The king saw no reason to remain in Thebes any longer, so he ordered his commanders to get ready to march north at dawn. The soldiers said their farewells to Thebes and its people and turned from recreation and calm to face struggle and fighting. At daybreak, the soldiers blew the bugles and the huge army moved forward in ranks like the waves of the sea, preceded by the vanguards with the king and his guard at the head and the chariot battalion and others following. The fleet, under the command of Ahmose Ebana, set sail, its sturdy vessels cleaving the waters of the Nile. All were eager for battle; their will had been honed by victory till it was like iron, or harder still. In the villages, the army was met with boundless enthusiasm and the peasants hurried to its route, cheering and waving flags and fronds of palm. It continued on its way without mishap until it found itself at the forenoon at Shanhur, which it entered without resistance, and in the evening at Gesyi, which opened its gates to it. Everyone spent the night at Gesyi and they resumed their march at dawn. They made fast progress, so that they reached the edge of the Field of Koptos and could see the valley that ends up at that city. Here a sad silence enveloped the army at the memories that arose in people's minds, and Ahmose recalled the defeat that had overtaken the army of Thebes in that valley ten or more years ago. He remembered the fall of his brave grandfather Seqenenra, who had watered this ground with his blood, and his eyes scanned the sides of the valley as he asked himself, “Where, I wonder, did he fall?” He happened to look at Hur and saw that his face was pale and his eyes brimming with tears, which affected him yet more. “What a painful memory!” he said to him.
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