The days passed until one day one of the chamberlains of the governor of the South came to the fishermen's quarter asking after the convoy of the one named Isfmis, then handed him a letter from the governor permitting him to enter the royal palace at a certain time on the day of the feast. Many saw the messenger and rejoiced, hope dawning in their hearts.
On that evening, as the convoy slept, Isfmis remained alone on deck in the calm and glory of the quiet night, bathed in the moonlight, which poured gemstones and pearls of light, shining and glittering, over his noble face. A feeling of lightness entered him and he felt a delightful sense of satisfaction as his imagination wandered at will between the recent past and the extraordinary present. He thought of the moment of departure in Napata and of his grandmother Tetisheri giving him the good news that the spirit of Amun had inspired her to send him to Egypt, while his father Kamose stood nearby and counseled him in his deep, impressive voice. He remembered his mother, the queen Setkimus, as she kissed his brow and his wife Nefertari as she cast upon him a farewell glance from between moist eyelashes. A look of tenderness as pure and modest as the light of the moon appeared in his eyes and droplets of the beauty that charged the space between the sky and the water of the Nile seeped into his heart. He felt refreshed and intoxicated with a divine ambrosia. But an image of light and splendor stealthily invaded his imaginings, causing his body to shudder, and, closing his eyes as to fly from it, he whispered to himself in exasperation, “God, I think of her more than I should. And I shouldn't think of her at all.”
13
The day of the feast came. Isfmis spent the daylight hours on board the ship, then, in the evening, put on his best clothes, combed his flowing locks, applied perfume, and left the ship, followed by slaves carrying an ivory casket and a litter with lowered drapes. They took the road to the palace. Thebes was making merry, the air resounding to the beating of tambourines and the sound of song. The moon lit up streets crammed with drunken soldiers roaring songs and the carriages of the nobles and the notables making their way toward the royal palace, preceded by servants carrying torches. The youth was plunged into deep dejection and said to himself sorrowfully, “It is my fate to share — with these people in the feast — with — which they commemorate the fall of Thebes and the killing of Seqenenra,” and directed an angry look toward the clamorous soldiery, remembering the — words of the physician Kagemni, “When soldiers get used to drinking, their arms grow feeble and they loathe to fight.”
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!”