Ahmose said simply and quietly, “Ahmose, Pharaoh of Egypt.”
Khanzar gave a loud laugh that echoed around the field and said sarcastically, “And who appointed you ruler of Egypt, when its king is the one who wears the double crown that you presented to him on bended knee?”
Ahmose said, “He appointed me who appointed my father and my forefathers before him. Know, Commander Khanzar, that he who is about to kill you is the grandson of Seqenenra.”
A look of gravity appeared on the governor's face and he said quietly, “Seqenenra. I remember that man — whose ill fortune dictated that he should one day seek to bring me down. I am starting to grasp it all — excuse me for my slowness of understanding. We Hyksos are heroes of the battlefield and we do not excel at cunning or know any language but that of the sword. As for you Egyptians who lay claim to the throne, you disguise yourselves for long in the clothes of traders before you can pluck up the courage to wear the dress of kings. Let it be as you wish; but do you really desire to fight me single-handed, Isfmis?”
Ahmose said vehemently, “Let us wear whatever clothes we desire, for they are our clothes. You, however, never learned to wear clothes at all until Egypt took you in. And do not call me Isfmis, since you know that I am Ahmose, son of Kamose, son of Seqenenra, a lineage venerable in nobility and age, descended from the loins of Glorious Thebes, one that never roamed shelterless in the deserts or shepherded flocks. Indeed, I wish to fight you single-handed. This is an honor you will gain that I may quit myself of a debt that I bear toward the greatest man Thebes has ever known.”
Khanzar shouted, “I see that conceit has blinded you from a true knowledge of your own worth. You think that your victory over Commander Rukh is good cause for you to stand before me. God have mercy on you, conceited youth! What do you choose for your weapon?”
Ahmose said, a mocking smile on his lips, “The sword, if you will.”
Khanzar said, shrugging his broad shoulders, “It is my dearest friend.”
Khanzar got off his horse and handed its reins to his squire. Then he unsheathed his sword and grasped his shield. Ahmose did likewise and they stood in silence, two arms’ lengths apart. Ahmose asked, “Shall we begin?”
Laughing, Khanzar replied, “How lovely these moments are, in which Life and Death exchange whispers! Have at you, young man!”
At this the king leapt forward and assailed his huge opponent courageously, aiming at him a mighty blow that the governor met with his shield. Then the governor attacked in his turn, saying, “A clean blow, Isfinis! Methinks the ringing of your sword on my shield sings the melody of Death. Well met, — well met! My breast welcomes the envoys of Death. How often has Death wanted me as I played between its claws, then, baffled, let me go, realizing at the end that it had really come for someone else!”
The man never ceased speaking as he fought, as though he were a skillful dancer who sang while he danced. Ahmose, realizing that his opponent was stubborn and intrepid, with muscles of steel, a foe full of tricks, light on his feet, a master of attack and feint, exerted all his strength and skill in avoiding the blows aimed at him, knowing that these were mortal blows for which there would be no cure should they reach their mark. Despite this, he took a blow on his shield whose heft he felt and he saw his opponent smile confidently, at which anger and fury arose within him and he aimed at the man a terrible blow that he in turn took on his shield. Struggling to master nerves and will alike, he asked Ahmose, “Where was this stout sword made?”
Controlling himself likewise, Ahmose replied, “At Napata, in the far south.”
As he dodged a hard blow aimed at him with exquisite skill, the man said, “My sword was made in Memphis, by the hands of Egyptian craftsmen. The man who made it had no idea that he was providing me with the tool that I will use to slay his sovereign, who trades and fights for him.”
Ahmose said, “How happy he will be tomorrow when he finds out that it brought the enemy of his country bad luck!”
Ahmose, seeking an opportunity for a violent attack, had scarcely finished speaking before he aimed at his mighty opponent three strokes one after the other with lightning speed. Khanzar warded them off with armor and sword but was forced to retreat a few steps and the king sprang after him and fell upon him brutally, directing blow after blow at his foe. Realizing the danger of this development, Khanzar stopped jesting with his opponent and closed his mouth, from which the smile had disappeared. He furrowed his brow and defended himself against his enemy's attacks with great strength and terrible courage, displaying unimaginable feats of skill and valor. The point of his sword gashed Ahmose's helmet and the Herdsmen, thinking that he had finished off his stubborn opponent, cheered loudly, to the point that Ahmose thought to himself, “I — wonder if I am hurt?” However, he felt no fatigue or-weakness, and, gathering his strength, struck his enemy a mighty blow that the latter met — with his shield. The blow struck it hard and he let it fall uselessly from his hand, his arm trembling. Shouts of joy and anger arose from the two sides and Ahmose ceased fighting, looking at this opponent — with a smile of triumph. The other brandished his sword and prepared to fight without a shield. Ahmose immediately took off his own shield and threw it to one side. Astonishment appeared on Khanzar's face and, giving him a strange look, he said, “What nobility, worthy of a king!”
The fight resumed in silence and they exchanged two mighty blows, of which Ahmose's was the faster to the huge neck of his opponent. The latter, seized by a terrible convulsion and his hand losing its grip on the hilt of his sword, fell to the ground like a building demolished. Approaching with slow steps, the king looked into his face with eyes filled with respect and said to him, “What a valiant and doughty fighter you are, Governor Khanzar!”
The man said, as he breathed his last, “You spoke truly, king. After me, no other warrior will bar your way.”
Ahmose took Khanzar's sword and placed it next to his body, then mounted his steed and returned to his camp, knowing that the Herdsmen would fight with fury and a lust for revenge. As he approached his charioteers, he called out to them, “Soldiers, repeat our immortal cry ‘Live like Amenhotep or die like Seqenenra!’ and remember that our destiny is forever tied to the outcome of this ongoing battle. Never accept that the patience of years and the struggle of generations be lost in the weakness of an hour!”
Then he attacked, and they attacked, and the fighting continued fiercely till sunset.
For ten whole days, the fighting went on in this way.
8
On the evening of the tenth day of fighting, King Ahmose returned from the field exhausted, his strength all spent, and he called together his entourage and commanders. Though the fall of Khanzar had inflicted on the Herdsmen's army an irreplaceable loss, their chariot battalion continued to resist and repel the attacks of the Egyptians, causing them terrible losses. The king was absorbed by anxiety and feared that day by day the huge chariot battalion would be destroyed. On that particular evening, he was angry and sad at the fall of so many of his brave charioteers who had stood firm in the face of death, indifferent to their fate. As though talking to himself, he said, “Hierakon-polis, Hierakonpolis, will your name, I wonder, be coupled with our victory or with our defeat?”
The others present were no less sad and angry than the king, but the tiredness and agitation that they saw on his handsome face alarmed them. Chamberlain Hur said, “My lord, our charioteers are fighting the Herdsmen's chariot battalion in its full strength and with all the equipment it possesses; thus our losses do not scare us. If soon we triumph over the enemy and destroy his chariots, his infantry will have no power over us. They will take refuge behind the walls of their fortresses, in flight from the assaults of our chariots.”