Pepi had resolved to summon soldiers from the palace guard and carry the throne off to wherever he might decide.
13
The soldiers picked up the throne as he commanded and set it on a large carriage. The commander walked before it to the temple of Amun and there they picked up the throne a second time and proceeded behind their commander, preceded by priests, to the sacred hall. In the sacred dwelling, close to the Holy of Holies, they beheld the royal litter, surrounded by soldiers and priests. They placed the throne at its side, astonishment registering on the faces of the priests, who had no forewarning of the matter. Pepi ordered the soldiers to depart and asked for the chief priest. The priest disappeared for a short while, then returned following the priest of Amun, who, understanding well the gravity of such a nocturnal visit, came hurrying, his hand extended to the commander, and saying in his quiet voice, “Good evening, Commander.”
Pepi answered in accents that betrayed his concern and anguish, “And to you too, Your Holiness. May I speak with Your Holiness alone?”
The priests heard what he said and quickly withdrew despite their curiosity and disquiet, leaving the place empty. When the chief priest noticed the litter and the throne, dismay appeared on his face and he said to the commander, “What has brought the carriage here? What is this litter and how comes it that you have left the field at this time of night?”
Pepi replied, “Listen to me, Your Holiness. There is nothing to be gained by delay or by making light of our situation. But you must hear me out so that I may inform Your Holiness of everything I know and then go to perform my duty. A battle that will be remembered forever has taken place, in which pain and glory alike took part. No wonder, for we have lost the battle for Egypt, our sovereign has been slain defending his country, treacherous hands have ripped apart his pure body, our royal family has fled Thebes, and, when the people of Thebes awake, they will find no trace of their kings or their glory. Gently, Your Holiness, gently! It is midnight, or almost so, and my duty calls out to me to make haste. This litter bears the corpse of our sovereign Seqenenra and his crown and here is his throne. This is our national heritage that I entrust to you, Priest of Amun, that you may preserve the body and keep it safe and keep these relics in a secure resting place. Now I commend you to the Lord's safekeeping, priest of that Thebes that will never die, though it reel under its wounds!”
The priest would have interrupted the commander, so agitated was he, but the commander did not allow him and he maintained a wooden silence, holding himself unmoving as though lost to all feeling. Pepi grasped the stupefaction and pain that the man must be feeling and said, “I commend you to the Lord's keeping, Your Holiness, confident that you will carry out your duties toward these sacred, precious relics in full.”
The commander turned away from him toward the litter, bowed his head reverently to kiss its covering, and gave it a military salute. Then he walked back-ward away from it, the litter hidden from his eyes by his tears. When he reached the stairs leading to the Hall of the Columns, he turned his back and walked quickly out of the temple, sparing glances for nothing. He knew that the time had come for him to rejoin his officers and men, so that he might make the last attack — with them, as he had promised.
His preoccupation with his duties did not, however, make him forget something — which, as soon as he thought of it, weighed unceasingly on his heart: his family — Ebana his wife, his little son Ahmose, and all the kin — who lived together on his farm on the outskirts of Thebes. He could not cover the distance to his farm by night and were he to do so he would not be able to fulfill his promise to his soldiers and they would think he had fled. He would meet his end without casting a farewell glance at the faces of Ebana and Ahmose. Yet there was something that weighed even more on his heart. He asked himself sorrowfully, “Will the Herdsmen leave the landowner on his land or leave those who have wealth their wealth? Tomorrow, the masters will be driven into the streets or murdered in their houses and Ebana and Ahmose will be left with no one to take their part.” The man grew dejected and for a long while his heart tugged toward his house and family, but his heart was on one course and his will of steel on another. He sighed in sorrow and said, “Let me then write her a letter,” and, having spread out a sheet on his chariot, wrote to Ebana, extending his greetings, commending her to the Lord's keeping, and praying for his son's safety and happiness. Then he narrated to her the events that had occurred and what had happened to the army and its sovereign. And he told her of the royal family's flight to a place unknown (omitting, for reasons of his own, to mention Nubia) and advised her to collect as much of her wealth as she could and flee with her son and those of the family and their neighbors who were dependent on her to the country outside Thebes, or to one of the quarters of the poor, where she could mix with the common folk and share with them a common fate. Finally, he gave her and his son his blessings and ended the letter by saying, “We shall meet for certain, Ebana, here or in the Netherworld.” He gave the letter to his driver and charged him to take it to his country villa and deliver it to his wife, then jumped into his chariot, cast a last look at the temple of Amun and the peacefully sleeping city as it lay plunged in darkness and cried out from the depths of his heart, “Lord God, keep your city safe! Thebes, farewell!”
Then he gave his horses their heads and they galloped off with him along the road to the north.
14
The commander reached camp after midnight. The injured army slept, so he went to his tent and threw himself on his bed exhausted, saying, “Let us rest a little, so that we may die a death worthy of the commander of the army of Seqenenra” and closed his eyes. Unbidden thoughts, however, interposed a thick veil between him and sleep. Phantoms of the horrors with which he had been afflicted during the preceding day and night appeared before him. He saw the archers facing the chariots that poured down upon them like a flashflood; his lord Seqenenra falling smitten, the javelin in his side; Kamose raging with anger, then submitting in sorrow, while Tetisheri moaned from the wound inflicted on her ancient heart; the farewell to Ebana and little Ahmose; and the lowering clouds gathering on the southern horizon. These thoughts seemed to come together into a single wave that rose and then broke, unbeknownst to him, for sleep had slipped between his eyelids.
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.