He followed the stream of people till he reached the edge of the square in front of the palace, -whose -walls and windows appeared to his eyes like light piled upon light. The sight made him feel -wretched, his heart beat violently, and a perfumed breeze, fragrant with memories of his youth, found him, as it passed over his fevered head, sad at heart and distracted. He went on, his sadness growing ever greater the closer his steps brought him to the cradle of his childhood and the playground of his youth.
Isfmis approached one of the chamberlains and showed him Governor Khanzar's letter. The man looked at it closely, then called a guard and ordered him to lead the trader and his train to the waiting area in the garden. The youth followed him, turning behind him into one of the side paths of the courtyard because the central path was so crowded with guests, chamberlains, and guards. Isfmis remembered the place very well and felt as though he had quit it for the last time only yesterday. When they reached the great colonnade that led to the garden, his heart beat faster and he became so agitated that he bit his lower lip, remembering how he had used to play in this colonnade with Nefertari, blindfolding himself until she had hidden herself behind one of the huge pillars, then removing the blindfold and searching everywhere until he found her. At that moment it seemed to his imagination that he heard her small feet and the echo of her sweet laugh. They used to carve their names on one of the pillars… would it still bear the traces? He would have liked to forget about his guard and search for the vestiges ofthat beautiful past, but the man hurried on, unaware of the melting heart an arm's length from him. When they reached the garden, the guard pointed to a bench and said to the youth, “Wait right here until the herald comes.”
The garden -was alight -with brilliant lamps and the breeze wafted the scent of sweet herbs and the fragrance of flowers from all sides. His eyes sought the place where the statue of Seqenenra used to stand at the end of the grassy pathway that divided the garden in two. In its place he found a new statue, lacking in artistry, representing a stocky individual with a huge frame, large head, curved nose, long beard, and wide, protuberant eyes. He had no doubt that he was before Apophis, King of the Herdsmen. He gazed at it long and balefully, then threw a bitter glance, burning with anger and hatred, at the guards. Everything in the palace and the garden was as he remembered it. He caught sight of the summer gazebo on its high mound, surrounded by bowing palms with their tall graceful trunks, and he recalled the happy days when the whole family would hurry there in spring and summer, his grandfather and father to become absorbed in a game of chess while Nefertari sat between Queen Setkimus and her grandmother Queen Ahotep and he sat in Tetisheri's lap. The hours would pass thus unnoticed as they whiled away the time in soft talk, reading verse, and eating ripe fruit. Isfmis sat for some time reading his memories in the pages of the garden, the pathways, and the arcades, absorbed and at ease, until the herald came and asked him, ‘Are you ready?” He stood up and said, “Quite ready, sir.” The other said, as he set off back, “Follow me.” He followed the herald, his men coming behind. They mounted the stairs and crossed the royal arcade until they arrived at the threshold of the royal hall. There they waited for permission to enter. The sound of loud laughter, of dancing feet and of violent music, reached him. He observed bands of cupbearers carrying jugs and cups and flowers and realized that these people knew neither shame when indulging themselves nor any restraint in their conduct of their feast days, and that the king excused them from maintaining their dignity and discipline, allowing them to revert to their original beastly nature. Then one of the slaves called his name and he advanced with unhurried steps till he found himself in the empty center of the hall, the company seated around him in their finest official costumes, peering at him -with interest. A certain embarrassment overtook him. He realized that the governor knew well how to excite the people's interest in what he had told them about him and his gifts so as to magnify his exploits in the eyes of the king, and he took a good omen from this. When he reached the middle of the hall, he ordered his retinue to halt and approached the throne alone, bowing his head in respect and saying in tones of slavish submission, “Divine Lord, Master of the Nile, Pharaoh of Upper and Lower Egypt, Commander of the East and the West!”
The king replied in a deep, resonant voice, “I grant you safety, slave.”
Isfmis straightened up and was able to steal a quick glance at the man seated on the throne of his fathers and grandfathers, recognizing in him without a doubt the original of the statue in the garden. At the same time he deduced, from the redness of his face, the look in his eyes, and the glass of wine before him, that he was drunk. The queen was sitting on his right and Princess Amenridis on his left. To the youth as he gazed at her she seemed in her royal clothes like a scintillating star, looking at him calmly and proudly.
The king threw a penetrating look at him and what he saw pleased him. He smiled slightly and said in his thick voice, “By the Lord, this face is worthy to be that of one of our nobles!”
Isfmis bowed his head and said, “It pleased the Lord to give it to one of Pharaoh's bondsmen.”
The king guffawed and said, “I see you speak well. It is with sweet words that your people seek to gain our sympathy and our cash. Seth, in his wisdom, gives the sword to the strong master and glibness of tongue to the weak slave. But what has this to do with you? Our friend Khanzar has told me that you bear us a gift from the lands of Nubia. Show us your gift.”
The youth bowed his head and moved aside. He made a signal to his men and two of them approached with the ivory casket and placed it before the throne. The youth went up to it, opened it, and drew forth a pharaoh's double crown of pure gold, studded with rubies, emeralds, pearls, and coral. As he lifted it, it attracted all eyes and the people, dazzled, broke out in a clamor of astonishment and admiration. Apophis, for his part, stared, his eyes bulging and avaricious, and unthinkingly he removed his own crown and took the new crown between his large hands and placed it on his bald head, so that he appeared clothed in new majesty. The king was jubilant and his face glowed with satisfaction. He said, “Trader, your gift is accepted.”
Isfmis bowed respectfully. Then he turned to his men and gave them a special sign and they drew aside the closed curtain of the litter, revealing the three pygmies seated and clinging to one another. Their sudden appearance caused great astonishment among all the people. Most of them got to their feet and craned their necks. The young trader called to them, “Bow to your lord Pharaoh!” and the three pygmies jumped down as one and formed a line, then approached the throne with firm, deliberate steps, made a triple obeisance before Pharaoh, and then stood silently, their faces expressionless. The king exclaimed, “Trader, what might these creatures be?”
“They are people, my lord, whose tribes live in the furthest reaches of southern Nubia. They believe that the world contains no other peoples than themselves. If they see one of us, amazement ties their tongues and they call to one another in wonder. These three I raised and I have trained them well. My lord will find them a model of obedience and a form of entertainment and recreation.”
The king shook his large head and laughed his mighty laugh, saying, “Anyone who claims to know everything is a fool. You, young man, have brought joy to our hearts and I grant you my favor.”
Isfmis bowed his head and then retraced his steps, walking backward. When he reached the center of the hall, he found someone barring his way and grasping his arm. Isfmis turned to look at the owner of the thick hand and saw a man in fine military clothes with a beautiful beard and thick moustaches, his veins throbbing with rage. His flushed face, and the flash of madness in his eyes, indicated how drunk he was. He greeted his lord and said, “I have no doubt that it pleases our lord to witness the arts of valiant combat at our national feasts, as our sacred traditions require. I have saved up for my lord's sacred person a bloody duel that will delight the onlookers.”
Lifting the glass to his thick lips, the king said, “How delightful that the
blood of warriors be spilled on the floor of this hall to dispel our boredom! But who is the happy man whom you have honored with your enmity, Commander Rukh?”
The drunken commander pointed to Isfmis and said, “This, my lord, shall be my opponent.”
The king was amazed, as were many of the nobles, and he asked, “How has this Nubian trader attracted your anger?”
“He rescued a peasant woman - she had had the impudence to direct an insult at my person — from punishment, by paying fifty pieces of gold to ransom her.”
The king laughed his mighty, ringing laugh and asked the commander, “Are you willing to have a peasant as your opponent?”
“My Lord, I see that he is well-built and his muscles are strong. If his heart is not that of a bird, I will close my eyes to his lowly origin, to please my lord and make my contribution to the joy of the feast.”
Governor Khanzar, however, would not contemplate a duel and had fixed his brother Judge Samnut with a reproachful glance, realizing that it was he who had alerted the commander to Isfmis's presence, without heed for the situation, while he, for his part, thought what a waste it would be should Rukh's sword deny him the precious treasures of Nubia. Going up to Commander Rukh, he told him firmly, “It is inconceivable that the decorations you wear should be scratched in a fight with a peasant trader, Commander.”
But Rukh replied, forestalling him, “If it is shameful for me to fight a peasant, then it is disgraceful for me to allow a slave to challenge me without exacting upon him the punishment that he deserves. But when I saw Pharaoh grant this trader his favor, I preferred to treat him fairly and give him a chance to defend himself.”
Those who heard the commander thought that what he said was right and just; they hoped earnestly that the trader would agree to fight, so that they could watch the duel and bring their feast-day pleasure to its climax. Isfinis was at a complete loss and could think of no way out. At one moment he would feel the eagerness of the people to hear his response and the look of challenge and contempt directed at him by the stubborn, drunken commander, -which made his blood boil in his veins. Then he would think of the advice of Tetisheri and Latu, and how, if that gross commander were to kill him, the fruits that he was so close to plucking would be lost and this favorable opportunity would pass his family by; at this his blood would cool and his resolution grow numb. Dear God! He could not refuse and he could not flee, for if he did so the commander would despise him, all eyes would look at him with contempt, and he would leave the place with his tail between his legs and his heart broken, even if he did thus obtain his noble goal. At this point he heard the commander say to him, “You have challenged me, peasant. Are you ready to face me?”
Isfinis was silent, feeling crushed and numb. Then he heard a voice say, “Leave the boy! He knows nothing of fighting.” And another voice said, “Leave the boy! A warrior fights with his soul, not with his body.” At this, rage took possession of him, and he became aware of a hand on his shoulder and a voice saying to him, “You are not a warrior, and it is no disgrace if you excuse yourself.” He looked and saw Khanzar, and felt a shudder pass through his body at the touch of the hand that slew his grandfather. At that dreadful moment, he glanced toward the throne, and saw Princess Amenridis regarding him with interest. Anger overcame him and, unaware of what he was doing, he said in a clear voice, “I thank the commander for condescending to fight with me and I accept the hand that he has extended to me.”
The people were overjoyed and the king laughed and drank another cup, as heads on all sides turned to look at the two opponents. The commander's face relaxed and he smiled a vengeful smile. He asked Isfinis, “Do you fight with the sword?”
He bowed his head in assent and the other gave him a sword. Isfinis removed his cloak to reveal his upper garment and trousers. His tall, strong body attracted looks, as did the slenderness and rectitude of its form and the beauty of his face. He was given a shield and he grasped the sword in his right hand and put the shield on his left, standing at one arm's length from the commander like one of those statues on -which the doors of the temples had closed.
The king gave the word for the fight to start and each unsheathed his sword. The angry commander was the first to attack, directing at his enemy a murderous blow that he imagined would be fatal, but the youth avoided it with amazing alacrity and it struck the air harmlessly. The commander allowed him no respite but, quick as lightning, aimed a still harder blow at his head. With a quick movement, however, the youth received it on his shield. Cries of admiration arose from every part of the hall and the commander realized that he was fighting with a man who knew well how to parry and thrust. He took heed and the fight started once more, following a new plan: they attacked, clinched, and separated, and feinted and turned back to the fight, the commander furious and violent, the youth amazingly calm, warding off his enemy's attacks with easy deftness and confidence. Every time that he parried a blow with his amazing skill, his enemy grew more agitated and crazed in his anger. Everyone realized that Isfmis was well able to defend himself and scarcely moved onto the offensive unless to thwart a strategy or make a blow miscarry; his skill was plain for all to see and he excelled his opponent in this and in agility to a degree that caught the enthusiasm of the audience, whose delight in the fight had caused them to forget the difference of race. Rukh became frantic and attacked him again and again, violently and strongly, never tiring or flagging, aiming blow after blow at him, some of which Isfmis warded off with his shield and some of which he skillfully avoided, remaining unhurt, serene, and full of boundless confidence, neither losing his temper nor discarding his insouciance, like some impregnable fortress. Despair started to overcome the exasperated commander and, as he became aware of how delicate and embarrassing was his position, he was driven to take risks. He raised the arm with which he held his sword and gathered all the strength and resolution he could muster to deliver a mortal blow, confident that his opponent's strategy was limited to defending himself. To his surprise, however, Isfinis directed a brilliant blow at the hilt of his sword, the point of his sword wounding the commander's palm. His hand lost its grip and the youth struck the sword a second blow that sent it flying, to fall close to Pharaoh's throne. Rukh was left defenseless, the blood dripping from his hand, and unable to contain his fury, while the audience hooted with pleasure, delighted at the trader's valor and the exquisite manner with which he refrained from pressing his advantage. The commander yelled at him, “Why don't you get on with it and finish me off, peasant?”
Isfinis replied calmly, “I have no reason to do so.”
The commander ground his teeth and bowed to the king in salute, then turned on his heel and left the hall. The king laughed till his body was convulsed, then gestured to Isfinis, who gave his sword and shield to a chamberlain and, approaching the throne, bowed to the king, who said to him, “Your fighting is as strange as your pygmies. Where did you learn to fight?”
“Divine King, in the land of Nubia the trader cannot guarantee the safety of his caravan if he does not know how to defend himself and his companions.”
The king said, “What a country! We too, men and women, were mighty fighters when we used to wander the cold northern marches of the desert, but when we took to living in palaces and became comfortable with affluence and ease and took to drinking wine instead of water, peace seemed good to us and now I have to watch a commander of my army defeated in combat with a peasant trader.”
The king's face was beaming and his mouth smiling as he spoke, so Governor Khanzar approached the throne and, after bowing in salute, said, “My lord, the youth is brave and deserves to be granted safe-conduct.”
Pharaoh nodded drunkenly and said, “You are right, Khanzar. The fight was fair and honorable and I grant him safe-conduct.”
The governor thought this an excellent opportunity, so he said, “My lord, the youth is prepared to perform exceptional services to the throne, including bringing to it amazing valuables taken from the
treasures of Nubia, in return for Egyptian grain.”
The king looked at the governor for a while, thinking of the crown that was on his head. Then he said -with no hesitation, “He has our permission to do so.”
Khanzar bowed in thanks and Isfinis prostrated himself in front of Pharaoh and stretched out his hand to kiss the hem of the royal robe. Then he stood submissively, resisting the temptation to look to the left of the throne, and retreated until the door of the Great Hall hid him from sight. He was overjoyed but asked himself, “I wonder what Latu would say, if he found out about the duel?”
Isfinis and the slaves got back to the ship after midnight and found Latu unsleeping, looking out for them. He approached the youth anxiously, eager to hear his news, and Isfinis related to him the successes and the tribulations that he had faced in the palace. Latu said to him, “Let us praise the Lord Amun for the success that He has granted us! Yet I would be betraying my duty if I did not tell you frankly that you committed a grave error in giving in to your anger and pride. You should never have exposed our great hopes to the risk of collapse for the sake of a sudden surge of anger. Might not the commander have beaten you? Might not the king have struck you down? You must never forget that here we are slaves and they are masters, and that we are seeking a boon that they hold in their possession. Never lose sight of the fact that you must appear to be grateful and loyal to them, and above all to that governor who directed at your mighty grandfather, and at the whole of Egypt, the fatal stroke. Do this for Egypt, and for those we left behind us, fearful and prayerful, in Napata!”
Three Novels of Ancient Egypt Khufu's Wisdom Page 53
