With these words the queen departed, turning a deaf ear to his protestations.
Anger engulfed the king, and he lost his composure. He considered Khnumhotep the one responsible for all his troubles. He summoned Sofkhatep and ordered him to inform Prime Minister Khnumhotep immediately that he was waiting for him. The bewildered lord chamberlain set off to carry out his lord's order. The prime minister showed up torn between hope and despair, and was shown in to the furious king. The man pronounced the traditional greeting but Pharaoh was not listening, and interrupted him harshly, “Did I not command you, Prime Minister, never to bring up the issue of the temple estates again?”
The man was shocked by the venomous tone, which he was hearing for the first time, and he felt his hopes fading. “My lord,” he said desperately, “I considered it my duty to bring to your most sublime attention the grievances of a constituency of your loyal and faithful people.”
“On the contrary,” said the king cruelly, “you wanted to stir up the dust between myself and the queen, so that under its cover you might achieve your aim.”
The man held back his hands imploringly, he wanted to speak but he could not get out more than, “My lord, my lord…”
“Khnumhotep,” roared the furious king, “you refuse to obey my orders, I will never trust you again after today.”
The high priest was speechless, frozen to the spot. His head sank to his chest in sadness and, in a tone of surrender, he said, “My lord, by the gods, it truly saddens me to withdraw from the glorious arena of your service, and I shall return as I was before, one of your loyal and insignificant slaves.”
The king felt relief after he had vented his ferocious anger, and he sent for Sofkhatep and Tahu. The two men came at once, wondering why they had been summoned. “I have finished with Khnumhotep,” said the king calmly.
There was deep silence. Signs of amazement appeared on Sofkhatep's face but Tahu remained unmoved. The king looked from one to the other saying, “What is the matter, why don't you speak?”
“It is a very serious matter, my lord,” said Sofkhatep.
“You think it serious, Sofkhatep? And what about you, Tahu?”
Tahu was motionless, his feelings dead, no reaction in his heart to the events, but he said, “It is a deed, Your Majesty, wrought by the inspiration of the sacred and worshipful powers.”
The king smiled, as Sofkhatep considered the matter from all angles. “From today Khnumhotep will find himself much freer,” the chamberlain said.
Pharaoh shrugged his shoulders in disdain. “I do not think he will expose himself to danger.”
Then Pharaoh continued in another tone, “And now, who do you suggest I should appoint as his successor?”
There was a moment of silence as the two men thought.
The king smiled and said, “I choose Sofkhatep. What do you think?”
“The one you have chosen, my lord, is the strongest and most faithful,” said Tahu sincerely.
As for Sofkhatep, he appeared disturbed and troubled by their words, but Pharaoh was quick to persuade him, asking, “Would you abandon your king in his hour of need?”
Sofkhatep sighed and said, “Your Majesty shall find me loyal.”
The new prime minister
Pharaoh felt a certain reassurance at the ushering in of this new era, and his anger abated. He left the affairs of state in the hands of the man he trusted and directed his attention toward the woman who had taken over his soul and heart and senses. With her, he felt that life was good, the world was blissful, and his soul full of joy.
As for Sofkhatep, the responsibility weighed heavily on his shoulders. There was no doubt in his mind that Egypt had received his appointment with caution, disapproval, and stifled indignation. He had felt isolated from the moment he stepped inside the government house. Pharaoh was content to be in love and had turned his back on all concerns and duties, and while the provincial governors paid him public homage, in their hearts they followed the priests. The prime minister looked around him and found only Commander Tahu to help and advise him, and although the two of them differed on many matters, they had in common their love for Pharaoh and their loyalty to him. The commander accepted Sofkhatep's call and stretched out his hand to help him and shared in his isolation and his many troubles. Together they struggled to save the ship tossed about on angry waves as storm clouds gathered on the horizon. But Sofkhatep lacked the qualities of an experienced captain, for though he was loyal and possessed great integrity, and in his wisdom the truth of matters were made manifest to him, he lacked courage and decisiveness. He had seen the error from the beginning, but he had not tried to rectify it as much as he had skirted about it, making light of its consequences for fear of incurring the wrath of his lord or hurting him. So it was that matters proceeded unimpeded down the road that anger had laid for them.
Tahu's vigilant spies brought back important news, saying that Khnumhotep had moved suddenly to Memphis, the religious capital. The news caused consternation between the prime minister and the commander and they were bewildered as to why the man would take upon himself the difficult journey from the South to the North. Sofkhatep expected some mischief and did not doubt that Khnumhotep would make contact with senior members of the clergy, all of whom were furious at the dire situation that had befallen them, and at the knowledge that the wealth that had been withheld from them was being prodigally scattered at the feet of a dancing girl from Biga, for there was not one person who was ignorant of this fact now. The high priest would find among them fertile ground to sow his teachings and reiterate his complaints.
The first indications of the clergy's discontent appeared when the messengers who had been sent out to announce the news of Sofkhatep's appointment as prime minister returned with official congratulations from the provinces. The priests, however, had remained alarmingly silent, moving Tahu to say, “They are starting to threaten us.”
Then letters began to pour in from all the temples bearing the signatures of all the priests from all ranks petitioning Pharaoh to review the question of the temple estates. It was a worrying and ominous consensus and it only added to Sofkhatep's woes.
One day Sofkhatep called Tahu to the government house. The commander hurried over. The prime minister pointed to his official chair of office and sighed, “That chair almost makes me dizzy.”
“Your head is too great for that chair to make it dizzy,” said Tahu.
Sofkhatep sighed sadly, “They have drowned me in a flood of petitions.”
“Have you shown them to Pharaoh?” asked the commander with some concern.
“No, Commander. Pharaoh does not allow a single soul to bring up the subject, and it is very rare that I am granted an audience with him. I feel confused and alone.”
The two men — were silent for a moment, each lost in his own thoughts. Then Sofkhatep shook his head in amazement, and said, as if addressing himself, “It is magic, no doubt about it.”
Tahu looked curiously at the prime minister, then suddenly understood what the man meant. A shiver ran down his spine and his face turned pale, but he managed to control his feelings, as he had become used to doing during the recent lean period of his life, and — with a simplicity that required enormous effort, he asked, “What magic do you mean, Your Excellency?”
“Rhadopis,” said Sofkhatep. “Does she not work her magic on Pharaoh? Nay, by the gods, what is — wrong — with His Majesty is clearly magic.”
Tahu's spirit shook at the mention of the — word. It seemed to him that he — was hearing something strange, — whose magical effect touched all his senses and emotions, and almost removed the plug he had stuffed mercilessly into the mouth of his emotions. He clenched his teeth and said, “People say that love is magic, and the magicians say that magic is love.”