In The Twelfth Dynasty Egyptian Literature
A Reconstruction
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In The Twelfth Dynasty Egyptian Literature
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“Your father, the king, is dead! His soul flew up to heaven and united with God. Assassins attacked him in his chambers. His body is desecrated and missing. You must return. The army secretly awaits you. The plotters think they have control. When you return they will be identified and crushed. Make haste. Come in secrecy to the gardener’s chambers.”
Sesostris I listened to the trembling runner, who himself also loved the old king. How horrible his task to tell the new king, the co-regent that he now ruled alone. “Get the runners, my chair, quietly now,” the new king would mourn in his small sedan chair as the twelve strong matched men carried him to the next station. The royal tent, the carpets and tapestry had protected the king from the cold Libyan desert night. His attendants would not prepare to disassemble the camp to leave, until the king had been gone at least two days so as not to hint to his party of his departure. The twelve men, always at the royal ready stood easily alert. They dressed with the long white pleated linen skirt, and thick leather shoes, all alike. They seemed identical because each had been chosen as having ideal height and weight. When then ran together they became like a 24 legged creature. The leader sang a low sounding chant giving the beat, setting the most efficient pace. They knew exactly how far they could go, at which speed, to maximize efficiency. The measured stations, along the guarded path, always accompanied a traveling king. A double crew alternated the watch. They could deliver the king back to the House, from this point, in two days. The king stood, gathered nothing, but put on a long robe and walked slowly to the evening light. The twelve, three at each end of the long carrying poles, all knelt with heads bowed low. The king stepped in front of the cubical leather seat. A few decorations efficiently identified the passenger. The seat allowed the king to sit with his feet upon the seat, not dangling. He put his knees to his chest. A horizontal strap held his legs and knees compactly. Sesostris sat down and settled into the pose. He crossed his arms, putting his hands on opposite shoulders. The top of his cloth-covered head emerged only up to his eyes, putting his head at the same height as the runners, who lifted the poles to their padded shoulder pole holders. The twelve stood as one and, softly to the quietly sounded beat, started the run. They gathered speed to maximum, sadness a heavier burden than the passenger. They ran almost unobserved into the night. Outside the royal tent, hiding in some bushes, shaking after he had listened to the message that he had anticipated, Sinuhe realized the deed was done. A few days before, Sinuhe had suggested to his younger half-brother, Sesostris, that they take an expedition to Libya. Sinuhe, the seasoned and successful general, would teach the co-regent some of the usual military methods on the neighbors who persisted in those hit-and-run raids. “It is a good time to practice the games we tried on the boards, Sire,” Sinuhe suggested. “I would enjoy the respite. Fighting will distract me so that I will recover from the loss of my sister.” Sinuhe had loved his full sister greatly, a surprise child born after their mother had returned to their father. Sinuhe was about 15 when the baby girl came to brighten his parents’ lives. Sesostris, however, seemed irritated that the girl, his half-sister seemed to get so much attention. Her skin so white proclaimed that their mother went back to that old priest, who she was married to before she married his dark father—his late father, Amenemhet I. Sesostris knew his father really loved him, their skin so warm and brown bonded them. Sesostris knew his mother loved him, too. But he preferred to think that his father had so many much more young and beautiful girls in the harem that he released his wife to go back to her old priest husband, Seni. Sesostris did not want to think that his mother loved the old priest Seni, the previously deposed king, more than she loved his father, then the powerful strong new king. That white-skinned Sidiptu kept reminding him of his mother’s choice, making him uncomfortable. And he knew that, ironically his half-sister, Sidiptu loved him. She wanted to marry him. He just did not want her, even though he knew that it would be a marriage made in public relations heaven. He suspiciously thought that she only wanted to marry him so that she could be queen. He recalled when she told him how Sinuhe had planned for her to marry their oldest brother, the high priest Khuni-Khak. Sesostris considered also that perhaps she really did love him, because he was so much younger and better looking than that strange old man. As the prized daughter of royalty, she seemed too valuable to waste on a priest. The only appropriate mates would be from among her brothers. Her child would be doubly royal and beloved because the populace loved and revered that family. The most famous kings and priests shared the bloodline. Merger into that line provided royal legitimacy. Sesostris tried to ignore those priests, his older half-brother Khuni, and his mother’s husband, the old priest Seni, who both seemed sneaky and arrogant. They always seemed to be stargazing and talking in hushed tones, as if they were discussing something important, something that they did not share with him. But nevertheless, Sesostris also loved the old priest Seni, his grandfather, having chosen his given name to remain his regnal name, Sesostris, to honor Seni. The name SenUsert, or SenWosret, variants of the same name, included the name of the cow goddess those priests always seemed to be watching. Usert and Wosret were names for Hathor that cow goddess. Sesostris himself often watched the goddess slowly cross the sky, gazing with his grandfather, tracking variations from her usual path. This heavenly being, the ancients recorded, appeared where she had not been before. Any change in the heavens caused extreme dismay among the populace who hung on to the old legends from the ancients. No one could dissuade them from their fears, of offer a reassurance from a new interpretation of the records. Often the leaders secretly had documents written with old style usage propagandizing to convince the people of this or that prophecy being fulfilled. They used old papyrus and made a big to do about discovering it. Usually the people just laughed and grumbled about how the leaders thought they were stupid. But some believed. Or feigned belief because royal favors rewarded the loyalists. The priests excelled at the subtleties and usually maintained the faith of the believers. They kept the records of the movements in the heavens. They explained to each person how the time and place of each individual’s birth destined them to certain characteristics. They praised each believer as necessary to the survival of the whole group. They emphasized the role of the firstborn in each family. They recalled and did not cover up the ancient requirement that these chosen firstborn often gave their lives to the gods of the sky to guarantee the safety of the rest of the family. The priests also regularly recalled for the people, at the holy services, reminding them of the ancient horrors brought on the sinful people in ancient times. Death and destruction visited many different times because of rampant sin. “The heavens proclaim the glories of God,” the priests proclaimed relentlessly. “Each individual’s thoughts and actions reverberate to the skies repelling or attracting heavenly wrath. Nothing escapes the measuring.” The priests seemed so preoccupied with the ancient records and the daily movements that they almost did not care about the royal intrigues or even who was king. A strange group, the king decided, almost inhuman with their disdain for the kingship and all its power and trappings. Nevertheless, they survived with great royal subsidy, to study the mysteries because the superstitious citizens demanded it. The citizens also required that the royals bow to the priests and gods, and that they measure their own behavior. Although, the royals used a different standard for their behavior based on their wealth and tradition. None but the royal could intermarry, others had to find mates from among cousins or more distant relatives. However, the royal family also had to marry foreigners, who were certainly inferior, the Egyptians agreed. The royal riches included many pampered wives, but only those of the ancient bloodline could produce kings. The others provided peaceful foreign trade and relations. Seni had married a Nubian queen, Sesostris’ grandmother, Nofret, in order to unite the upper and lower areas of the long skinny riverland. The union produced the great king Amenemhet I, Sesostris’ now dead father. The death caused the great king Amenemhet I to become Osiris. Any king who died became deified as Osiris. The next king, while living, became the god Horus. Sinuhe was the younger half-brother of the dead king, and was also the older half-brother of the new king. Sesostris and Sinuhe shared the same mother. But Sinuhe and Amenemhet shared the same father, Seni, who was Sesostris’ grandfather. “Quietly, quietly now, tell no one of the mission.” The king said distractedly as fresh runners replaced the pole bearers. The king got out of the chair to stretch then returned to his humble pose, his knees back to his chin, his arms folded around them, as if trying to make himself a lighter burden. He turned inside to his disciplined mental exercises to control his thoughts and lift his ba and his ka to the light. He had experimented as a youth and discovered that those exercises worked. He learned some of the secrets of the priests, which gave him strength to perform his duties and make his decisions. He relied heavily on his discipline. He felt one with the runners: he too carried an important burden in his heart. His thoughts again turned to Sinuhe. He loved his tall red-haired exuberant half-brother who, being about ten years older, took him under his wing. The pale skin and that wild coloring never irritated the king as Sidiptu’s skin had. The man radiated brightness and an open heart. So in charge, he easily commanded loyalty. He walked the walk of a mighty leader. He took long strides, so that the others had almost to run to keep up. His charisma and presence dominated almost any situation. Sesostris knew that many people loved Sinuhe as much as he did. Despite Sinuhe’s take-charge attitude, he always knew his role: a team player. He knew all the members contributed and he seemed never to lord it over any of the players. They absorbed his appreciation of each of their contributions. He seemed to include each player as interchangeable with himself. And he required of no one what he would not do himself. He praised no one, expecting exactly what he anticipated that each could do. He expected no praise, or love from his henchmen. Like a child he remained unselfconscious and almost unaware that he was always in charge but never a bully. Despite his fame capturing the admiration of the people, his humility of heart overshadowed, indeed, caused his celebrity. His charisma and endearing charm made him a popular hero, a worthy model for young men, and an object of desire for the young women. His mere presence proclaimed “Mighty is his Ka.” Sesostris’ thoughts stayed on Sinuhe. Why, the king wondered about himself, did he leave Libya without telling Sinuhe? He searched his heart and knew. He loved both of these men, his father and Sinuhe, and he knew that they hated each other. He knew it involved Sidiptu. He knew without confirmation, that Sinuhe had ordered the death of his father. He sat crying quietly as the runners padded in unison, seemly sympathetically absorbing any discomfort on the path. Maybe they knew what had happened. Maybe they speeded him to his own assassination. He knew he had let his brother escape. He knew he would regret it when he got to the palace in Ittawy. His father had moved the House from southern Thebes to northern Ittawy, near Memphis, so that he could keep an eye on the Asiatic factions who always required surveillance. The new city nestled among the ancient monuments built by former kings for the priests to better observe and serve the skies. The human scale of the new town also featured low buildings, lots of square pillars for the holy words, and square pools for bathing, and some for the pet fish. The palace featured a second floor with balconies over pillared walkways. Many pools and moats proclaimed the wealth of the inhabitants. Wings of the building joined at the throne room. Colors covered the walls in pictures and words. Everywhere musicians rotated their services providing their voices and sounds according to the watch. The women workers shared the most protected interior garden spaces. They wove the carpets under the roof-like clipped and trained trees, which provided a comfortable and breezy shade. The ladies grouped by age sat sometimes sixteen in a row, for a very large carpet or tapestry, and looped and tied their colored wool according to the carpet master who ordered each stitch as he paced back and forth to each end. The hypnotic task allowed for certain songs to be hummed that enhanced the motions and provided magic to the product. Women also washed linen garments in the pools, although some preferred to walk to the river. They fed the captive pet fish, and often caught the river fish. Their little naked children followed them on their tasks. Despite the pleasure of the task guardsmen stood at the protected areas of the river’s edge. They stood with two long sturdy poles to attack any crocodiles that may have emerged to eye the tasty temptations playing near their distracted mothers. On the outer edges of the complex, the male workers tended the larger animals and the fields. Oxen pulled the plows through the soft black soil as the farmers sowed the seeds. Their measured pace did not exhaust them and the yield rewarded their mild efforts with much leisure time. Craftsmen produced delicate pottery for the kitchens or the small shabti figures for religious offerings. Others used metals and polished stones to make jewelry that everyone enjoyed wearing. They loved the gold from Nubia, so bright and easily worked. They also carved rare woods from the northern forests or beautiful marble imported from exotic quarries. Maat prevailed in their hearts and daily lives. The peaceful orderliness calmed their hearts and minds making happiness the usual state. Travel continued as the king refused any rest. He slipped in and out of sleep, and sadness. He remembered how his father, ten years earlier, had elevated him to be his equal. “Hear all Egypt, behold a new Horus rises to protect the land!” The king had approved a day the astronomers chose, and it had turned out to be a comfortable breezy day. Their royal wardrobe attendants had spent months preparing their regalia. The two kings dressed the same in their long white robes, and headgear, the combined two crowns of upper and lower Egypt. The red crown looked like a rounded chair with a thin back, the white crown like a bowling pin, which sat inside the red one. Massive golden necklaces, bracelets and belts highlighted their dark skin. The older darker man stood, still lean and muscular, next to his slightly taller bronze son. He put his arm around his son as proud as any father, and introduced him to the cheering Egyptians. The musicians sang new songs of praise for both the kings. Dancing music would come later. The announcer proclaimed all the titles and praises of the two gods. The elaborate celebration took three days, and the citizens enjoyed grand feasting as sumptuous as a single coronation. The people had never had two kings ruling together before, but seemed to accept the change with equanimity. Sesostris prayed to be able to rule as wisely as had his father. He appreciated those ten years that he stood next to his father, learning how to maintain power, public opinion and peace. Why did his father initiate the unusual co-regency situation Sesotris wondered. Did he fear ruling alone? Did he remember something that had happened when he became king himself? Did he know something that Sesostris had not yet discovered? Did it have something to do with Sinuhe? When Amenemhet I took his own father’s white wife (Sesostris’ mother), he announced by doing so, that he took over as king. The king presented his tall, elegant stepmother, as his own new wife and the crowd understood that the old king had been deposed, but not killed. The reigning king sleeps with any woman he chooses: the harem is his. But Sesostris suspected that Amenemhet had felt his black mother’s pain when Seni had acquired a replacement —white—queen. Sesostris suspected that Amenemhet had taken his father’s wife not primarily to proclaim himself king, but primarily to punish his father for hurting his mother. And Sesostris knew he was the result of the punishment, the child of revenge. How Amenemhet’s mother, Nofret reacted to her son taking the woman who took Nofret’s own husband would certainly be mixed. She feared perhaps that her son would also love the perfectly shaped and graceful woman. Losing both the hearts of her husband and her son to the same woman would be doubly painful. And the white woman looked at Nofret innocently, almost telling her that she hated the situation also. She did not want to marry Amenemhet but made the deal with him to save her own older children. The royal son of the white trophy wife would resemble both women, reminding each of the other when looking at the baby. Sesostris remembered that his black grandmother always had a strange reaction to him, love and revulsion. The revulsion caused by his blue eyes, his tall graceful elegance, reminded her of the woman who had unwillingly stolen her husband’s heart. But the child’s dark skin kept him kept him close to Nofret. She loved holding him as a baby in the dark so that she could not see his eyes and his narrow nose. They used to sit on the balcony looking at the skies. The teacher priests told them the tales of the stars. They used to draw the figures of the hippopotami and fishes of the sky by the light of the oil lamps. He memorized the traveling stars. He loved her tales involving the sky gods. He nagged Nofret to tell the tales again even though he knew them word for word. He loved her so much. But he still loved his mother, Nefery, her weekly visits, bringing treats and surprising toys. She used to take him to the river and show him how the little toy boats would float either by current or by the winds with their little cloth sails. She helped him pick up the papyrus plants and peel, pound and press them into paper so that he could draw the figures of the gods, and make the glyphs of his names. She taught him how to draw faces and legs in profile, but eyes and shoulders in front view. They played with the mud making little statues and bowls and sometimes had them fired at the royal pottery. His mother always brought Sinuhe to visit. The preteen lanky boy delighted in playing with the future king. He would lift and spin with the child who giggled in glee. “Stop! No spinning, no tossing. Be careful, Sinuhe!” both of the ladies would command in unison, causing the boys to flop down to the floor. Sinuhe would crawl on the floor acting like a crocodile, while the toddler would jump on top and ride him squealing in delight. They would roughhouse gently while the ladies did their needlework and watched. Sinuhe would teach baby Sesi how to play the board games. They would play the toy soldiers games. They would play the writing games. Sesi loved his brother who loved him back. Somehow the family stuff did not estrange them. It would not until now, Sesostris understood as his childhood memories dug deeper into his broken heart. Nofret in her youth had been the black beautiful powerful queen of the country of gold, Nubia, and considered herself a prize, worthy of any great king. “My father told me to rule over Egypt. He said that the Nubian warriers had defeated the northerners and kept control of the land. When he sent me to marry Seni, I knew it would be hard to leave my home, my people. He told me I would be Queen of Egypt and that I would insure peace for both our countries. I came on a royal raft, sitting high on a display throne. Almost covered with gold, I could not walk or move my arms. I wore more than one hundred necklaces, from my breasts to my chin. My earrings fanned out sideways like butterfly wings. The rings of the pointed crown pressed down on my short hair, and rose a foot high. My neck muscles complained and I complained to the attendants who devised a pair of rods that alleviated the weight on my head. They stood next to me holding the crown and giggled at my plight. The fan bearers and water bearers had a much more comfortable cruise. They sang to me the music of my heartbeat. They loved me and bragged to each other that we would wow them at the palace. Crowds on both banks cheered my arrival with their stringed music and grateful frenzy. The women whistled their bird calls in delight. Many jumped on their own vessels and joined the journey until we had a fleet of hundreds of cheering boats. They each had new colors on their sails. Our ostrich fans dyed pink and purple and green fanned an elaborate greeting to each new boat. No spectacle has appeared before or since my arrival.” Sesostris recalled his bitter grandmother reminiscing about her arrival. “I never thought that I would love that white man so much, and that it would be over so quickly. And then even after I gave him a king, a good strong son, my Amenemhet, he chose that white woman, his royal aunt. He explained to me that she, like me, was a peace pawn, with foreigners, the Asiatics. This crushed the idea that my father told me that I would rule Egypt. “But Seni had three children with Nefery, while having had only one with me. In other words, he loved her. “When my son, Amenemhet I, took over as king, he knew what to do, how to take control with minimum bloodshed. I had urged him to move before Nefery’s sons grew strong. He converted the army to his side. He paid mercenaries. He enjoyed the support of his fierce and loyal Nubian allies. He took that woman from his father, Seni. Amenemhet proclaimed himself king.” Sesostris felt somehow in the same situation—the pain and the kingship. The heartache seemed the more important reason for the coup, overshadowing the apparent and usual motive: a selfish opportunistic power grab. Amenemhet had known that his father, Seni, had hurt his mother and would probably hurt him too if he did not move fast. He recognized the accuracy of his mother’s advice. He knew that his father favored the white woman’s children. “He took his father’s wife and you were born from that usurpation,” Sesostris’ grandmother’s words emerged in his memory. “But he named you after his father as if to say to the people that the transition was amicable. “Those were hard years after you were born. I went to your mother and asked for you. I saw pain in her blue eyes as she held you gently. She stood so tall and dignified I found it hard to hate her. She handed you to me and kissed you. I heard her heart break. It echoed in her voice as she ordered your nurse and five attendants to accompany you. I resisted the urge to hug her, but I thanked her. I wondered how much she hated my son, your father. I tried not to picture him taking her by force. He had promised her to spare her older children if she gave him a son. She asked that he also adopt them in a bargain to protect them after you would be born. But she loved you. I know she did. I loved you, I think, more than she did. I tried never to think about her, a difficult task. “Forgive me for thinking of her when I looked into your blue eyes. I don’t know whether to blame men or their politics. Maybe it would have been easier if both countries had made war rather than this fake peace that pains our royal hearts. The sadness of the pawn mother falls onto her son after he realizes the circumstances of his birth. “She gave you to me. And visited every week. You loved her visits so much. But they pained me.” Sesostris still curled, his body aching from his motionless pose, understood the pain of both his mother and his grandmother. He wondered if they remained both alive in the coup chaos. He surmised that his black grandmother would be dead, if not from the assassins, than by her own hand, grieved by the loss of her son, the king. His mother being alive would confirm to him that Sinuhe led the plot. He wondered how involved she would have been in the plot, perhaps even the initiator. She certainly had reason to hate his father. Which brought Sesostris’ thoughts to Sidiptu. “That stupid excited child. She was so innocent. She had no resentment or even curiosity about me being her half-brother. She just loved me and could not imagine anyone not loving her. She seemed so unselfconscious like Sinuhe, but somehow he wore it better than she did.” Sesostris recalled how Sidiptu had constantly tried to visit with him and chattered brightly, her harem mates quietly enduring her behavior. He really didn’t hate her, he just recalled how much she looked like their mother. Sesostris recalled her elaborate poetry. She sang it to him with her sweet voice, picking on her harp, her maids humming and strumming along side her. He allowed the entertainment, and even invited some of his classmates to enjoy the event. These women certainly equaled the professional musicians, and had studied with them. Their beauty distracted their listeners from their daily tasks. Her lyrics lifted the eyebrows of the gossipers: If you don’t embrace me, who will you hug? Even if you enjoy good fortune, you will not be satisfied. But touch my lips and thighs and you will be satisfied!” The song could go on for hours. “And any time the lover comes to me, The house will be open, beds with linen sheets, A lovely girl awaiting! And the girl will say, “This place belongs to the captain’s boy.” The king and the crowd knew the song invited the king to bed and wed the star singer. She certainly enjoyed the rapture of the enthralled listeners, who perhaps imagined that the beauty sang to them. Her control over their enraptured hearts made the hours fly. When the singing ended, the audience cried for more. The singers would offer a few more verses and bow in gratitude. The time passed caused no boredom or tiredness. Their hearts continued the song for many days after the concerts. After these performances, Sesostris always graciously walked up to the star singer, Sidiptu and bowed to her and allowed her to enjoy the cheers of the listeners. He embraced her and presented her as his jewel that he shared to amuse his guests. She returned his apparent pleasure with her. Everyone knew her songs aimed at him, offered herself to him. No one in the crowd would have refused her advances. But the young king somehow resisted her. He knew that she was right, that there was no other acceptable or appropriate candidate to be his wife and queen. But somehow, she broke his heart. Somehow he wondered about his father and mother, and why this girl existed. He speculated about her birth, and all his scenarios brought him pain. He wondered why she seemed so oblivious to their family background. If even once she had wanted to bring up the subject of their parents, perhaps he could have bonded a bit with her. But she seemed to always be so desperate to captivate him. Sesostris continued his reminiscences. “She became agitated and serious when Sinuhe arranged for her to marry their oldest brother, Khuni, the high priest. She loved Sinuhe, probably even more than she loved me, but she did not love the oldest brother. How those two brothers could be so different with both the same parents seems ridiculous. I even agreed with her, we both loved Sinuhe more.” “She wanted me to marry her, make her queen, rescue her from her arranged distasteful marriage. I did not want her, despite her beauty. She used to wear this hair decoration of stars on wires around her head. It made her look so elegant. Her tall narrow body seemed so quiet compared to her chatter. I did not want to irritate Sinuhe, who always complained when he found out about her visits. I did not want to interfere with Sinuhe’s plans. “But Father seemed delighted when I mentioned her attentions. Except he became irritated when I told him of the marriage arrangement. “He hated the plan Sinuhe had for her to marry her oldest brother. Somehow he considered it a threat to us. “I don’t know why he cared so much about them or their plans. I was already king. “Sidiptu started acting desperate, she nagged me and cried. Father, suggested that I tell her to talk to him. “I remember that night. I told her that maybe Father could stop her planned marriage, he was king after all. I didn’t want to get involved. “She went to Father’s chambers. That was the last time I saw her. “I heard the rumors, that she had offered herself to him for marriage, but I think she wanted him to order me to marry her. What business did she have going to him anyway? Why did I send her to him? Why did I care so much? “Father seemed gleeful the next day. He laughed and joked and talked about king’s privileges. His deep voice cracked a bit when he described Sidiptu coming to him without her harem mates. He slowly told me about the pale yellow dress with the thin gold threads that followed the tiny pleats vertically. She wore the delicate stars in her elegant wig. He said she had wild eyes like a cat in a cage. They were blue like her mother’s eyes were twenty years ago. He compared the two women, her mother was taller and fearless. In fact, Father said, ‘I recall that she feigned fear of me back then. I know she was not afraid of me. Her iron discipline discouraged me a bit. But this young one, I could not tell which prevailed, her sheer courage or her fear. I wasn’t sure if she feared me, or feared someone else . . . ’ His eyes became strange, speaking of fear, as his words broke off . . . “The next day I heard that she had died a terrible death. Somehow she had fallen to the crocodiles. Sinuhe was with her before she went over the balcony. Mother and grandfather Seni were shattered. “Father then came to me after he had heard and seemed quite agitated, and told me to write a story. ‘In case something happens to me, I am getting old and the job is wearing me down, write about how I enjoyed the pleasures of the young ladies. Describe how I would order a group of perfect beauties, virgins to be dressed only in golden fish net, with a few jewels here and there. Tell how they would get into a small yacht, a golden one. I would invite some of my favored assistants to sit with me on the reviewing stand on the river. The nubile ladies would row while standing in the craft, so that we could appreciate their bodies. Slowly they would row in front of us as we discussed the merits of each of the girls. ‘Tell that on one day, the lead rower, the one who called the beat, the captain of the little ship stopped the cruising. The boat floated as the rowers held up their oars. ‘What is it?’ I called out to her. She replied, ‘My fish pendant, my hair ornament has fallen into the water.’ I laughed at her and replied, ‘I will buy you many of them, my beauty, keep rowing.’ ‘No!’ she pouted in defiance. ‘I want mine, the one that I lost!’ ‘Well, then in order to amuse the guests, write that I ordered the water out of the riverbed in a great chunk and put it on top of the other water. Tell that a servant ran down and picked of the jewel and handed it to her. Then the water was replaced and the ladies continued rowing. ‘The people who read will understand that the fish jewel was her virginity. They will understand that I owned all the ladies of the harem. They will know that this young child foolishly tried to control the ship of state. They will know that she realized her mistake and wanted her virginity restored. But even the king cannot undo what was done, no matter how much one wishes it. Miracles may help, but they are rare. She made the mistake. Make it known that it was not my idea. Portray me as a good king, please my son.’ Sesostris had listened to the strange tale his father had spun, and understood what his father was trying to say. He just didn’t understand the fear in his eyes. Sesostris recalled saying to his father, “Why is this necessary. You do not have to explain any of your actions. You are the king. So what, the girl has proven herself to be a gold-digging slut. Forget about her.” His father had hugged him, tried to control his agitation, and said, ‘Nevertheless, hire the scribe to record my version.’ Sesostris remembered his father’s words, and realized now, that it was Sinuhe his father had feared. Sesostris vividly recalled that Sinuhe had asked him to go with him to skirmish with the Libyans. The realization dawned on the traveling king, “It was Sinuhe. He planned Father’s murder in revenge for of Sidiptu’s visit. He even went with me so as not to arouse suspicion.” The understanding brought the king no peace. During the tormented ride home Sesostris considered which scribe he would hire to preserve the honor of his father. Not only would the scribe write the strange tale about the virgins on the yacht that his father requested, but also he would write a prophecy that would be “discovered” foretelling of his father’s great reign. Sesostris wrote his ideas in his head that the scribe would polish and embellish. He listed the facts that he wanted covered in the text. He would tell the scribe to write in the old style, and the words would be “uncovered” by some diggers. That way no one would suggest that it written by a devoted son. He thought that it should appear to be a prophecy, so as to be protected by magic, and no one would doubt the “ancient” document’s holiness. It should include the pet name Sesostris called his father, his dear Ameny, who came from the south. It should tell how he saved beloved Egypt from the strange bird Asiatics. It should tell how his Father adopted that Asiatic, Sinuhe, who should not be named lest his fame should grow. It should tell how the plotter, who lived as a parasite in the royal house, showed his gratitude by murdering his royal father. It will warn of an untrustworthy brother who kills his benefactor. It will tell that the priest, his brother Khuni, sat, with his back turned while the murder happened. Pleased with his mental list, he wanted the people to know who caused the tragedy. During the quiet twilight the runners padded swiftly through the hidden and guarded path, outside the small city’s walls, to the gardener’s quarters. The loyal soldiers, represented by a select contingent of ten, had feigned acceptance of the plotters, somberly greeted their king and laid out their plans for the recovery. The exhausted traveler cried with relief that he still commanded these loyal men. He had given up the temptation to despair that they would greet him with knives. “We have as least eighty percent of the main army. By secret ballot we surveyed the ranks and told all to pretend to accept the coup,” the third ranking general whispered. The king sank into the comfort of their protection. They quietly provided him a couch and covers. He refused the warmed bread but drank the water they held for him. He fell into a deep sleep well guarded, in the small vine covered building among the bushes. By morning the heads of 75 priests on tall spears looked down on the townspeople in the square at the main entrance to the palace. Across the square, 125 heads from the harem henchmen, looked back across the slippery red pavement. The reward notice posted proclaimed: “Whosoever brings to me, the God Sesostris I, the severed head of the royal prince Sinuhe, impaled on a spear, will be rewarded with all of his possessions and royal titles.” But the parts of the assassinated king’s body were not recovered for the proper burial required for resurrection. And Sinuhe, back in Libya, was headed for parts unknown. |
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