The officer had more to say: “Our spies have reported, my lord, that there are priests inciting the masses on the outskirts of the city, claiming that Pharaoh is using an imaginary war in the South as a pretext to muster an army with which to crush the people. The people, believing them, have grown enraged. If the police had not stood in their way they would have stormed the approaches to the sacred palace.”
Pharaoh bellowed like thunder, “Doubt gives way to certainty. Pernicious treason has come to light. It is them, declaring their aggression and initiating the attack.”
These were strange and unbelievable words that assailed their ears, and it appeared upon all their faces as if they asked incredulously, “Is this truly Pharaoh? And this the people of Egypt?” Tahu could stand it no longer, and said to his lord, “My lord, this is a baneful day, as if the forces of Darkness thrust it unnoticed into the cycle of time. It began with bloodshed and the Lord knows best how it will end. Command me to do my duty.”
“What will you do, Tahu?” Pharaoh asked him.
“I will deploy the men-at-arms on the fortified defenses and I will lead out the company of chariots to meet the mob before they overcome the police and force their way into the square and the palace.”
Pharaoh smiled mysteriously and was quiet for a while, then in a solemn voice, he said, “I will lead them myself.”
Sofkhatep was aghast. “My lord,” he blurted out.
The king struck his chest aggressively with his hands, saying, “This palace has been a stronghold and a temple for thousands of years. It will not become the base objective of every rebel who cares to raise his voice in protest.”
The king removed the leopard skin and, throwing it aside in disgust, rushed into his chamber to don his martial attire. Sofkhatep was fast losing his nerve, and sensing dread and disaster, he turned to Tahu and in a commanding tone, said, “Commander, we have no time to lose. Be gone and make ready to defend the palace and await the orders that come to you.”
The commander left the room followed by the police officer, while the prime minister waited for the king.
Events, however, were not waiting, and the wind carried a clamorous racket that grew ever louder and more defiant until it drowned out every other sound. Sofkhatep rushed over to the balcony that overlooked the palace courtyard and gazed out into the square beyond. From all around, masses of people were pouring into the square, shouting and clamoring, brandishing swords and daggers and clubs, as if they were the waves of a huge and powerful flood. Nothing but bare heads and flashing blades as far as the eye could see. The prime minister felt a shudder of dread. He looked below and saw the slaves in hurried commotion, sliding the huge bolts into place behind the great door. The infantry looked as sprightly as falcons as they ascended the towers that had been erected on the northern and southern ends of the outfacing wall. A large company of them moved into the colonnade that led down to the garden, carrying lances and bows. The chariots stayed back at the rear, drawn up in two long rows below the balcony in readiness to charge down the courtyard if the outer gate were breached.
Sofkhatep heard footsteps behind him. He turned round to see Pharaoh standing at the door onto the balcony in the uniform of the commander in chief. Upon his head was the double crown of Egypt. Sparks shot from his eyes and wrath was drawn upon his face like a tongue of flame. He spoke with fury and rage. “We are surrounded before we can make a move.”
“The palace, my lord, is an impregnable fortress and stalwart warriors defend it. The priests will be routed in defeat.”
Pharaoh was frozen to the spot. The prime minister moved back and stood behind him, whereupon they looked out together in doleful silence at the throngs of people so vast their numbers could not be counted as they poured toward the palace like — wild beasts, brandishing their — weapons menacingly and crying out in voices like thunder, “The throne belongs to Nitocris. Down with the frivolous king.” The archers of the royal guard loosed their arrows from behind the towers and they hit their mark to deadly effect. The mob returned fire with a tremendous burst of stones, blocks of wood, and arrows.
Pharaoh nodded his head, and said, “Bravo, bravo, you rapacious people who come to overthrow the frivolous king. What anger is this? What revolution? Why do you brandish those weapons? Do you really want to plunge them into my heart? Well done, well done! It is a spectacle that deserves to be preserved on the temple walls for all eternity. Bravo, O People of Egypt.”
The guards were fighting fiercely and valiantly, pouring down arrows like rain. Whenever one of them fell dead, another would take his place with death defiance, while the commanders mounted on horseback rode up and down atop the walls directing the battle.
As he beheld these tragic scenes he heard behind him a voice he knew only too well saying, “My lord.”
He wheeled round astonished, and saw the one who had called him only two steps away. “Nitocris!” he exclaimed in wonder.
In a voice full of sadness the queen said, “Yes, my lord. My ears were rent with a foul screaming, the likes of which the Nile Valley has not heard before and I came to you, running, to declare my loyalty and to share your fate.”
With these words she knelt down on her knees and bowed her head. Sofkhatep withdrew. The king took her by the wrists and lifted her to her feet as he gazed at her with bewildered eyes. He had not seen her since the day she had come to his wing, and he had reproached her in the crudest manner. He was deeply hurt and embarrassed, but the cries of the people and the screams of the fighting men brought him back to his former state and he said to her, “Thank you, sister. Come, take a look at my people. They have come to wish me a happy feast day.”
She lowered her eyes, and said — with deep sorrow, “A monstrous blasphemy is that which they utter.”
The king's sarcasm transformed itself into a raging bitter anger, and in tones swollen with disgust, he said, “A crazy country, choking air, polluted hearts, treachery. Treachery and treason.”
The hair stood up on the back of the queen's neck at the mention of the word “treason,” her eyes froze in dread, and she felt her breath imprisoned in her chest.
Was it possible that the mob's chanting her name had provoked some misgivings? Would her reward be for him to accuse her after her heart had grieved at his woes, and she had come of her own accord to he who had insulted her and treated her harshly? The very thought broke her heart, and she said, “The pity of it, my lord. There is naught I can do except to share your fate, but I can only wonder who the traitor might be, and how the treachery was devised.”
“The traitor is a messenger to whom I entrusted a letter — he delivered it to my enemy.”
Surprised, the queen said, “I have no knowledge of a letter, or of a messenger, nor do I think that there is time to inform me. I want nothing from you save that I appear by your side before the people who are clamoring for me so that they will know I am loyal to you, and that I stand against those who stand against you.”
“Thank you, little sister. But there is no trick. All I must do is prepare for a noble death.”
Then he grabbed her arm and walked her to his room of contemplation, pulling back the curtain that was drawn over its door, and they entered together into the sumptuous room. The interior was dominated by a niche carved in the wall, in which were set statues of the previous king and queen. The royal siblings walked over to the statues of their parents, and stood before them in silence and humility, peering with sad and melancholy eyes. As he looked at the statues of his parents, the king said in a heavy voice, “What do you think of me?”