Among the customs of the upright king was to pray each morning in the Temple of Khnum. On one of these mornings, he entered the Holy of Holies and secluded himself with the deity’s statue. He kissed its foot, then prayed fervently in profound gratitude, enumerating his many gifts and blessings. He ended his prayer by saying: “Praise be to my father Khnum for having invested me with people’s love and genuine loyalty, for the love of that which he has created is the Creator’s satisfaction. There is no one happier in the world than one who brightens the hearts of others for the sake of his own happiness, and who suffers for their suffering.”
Because the people of those days worshipped the gods with hearts filled with honesty, faith, and naïveté, the deities would grace them with speech sometimes, and with miracles at others. And so it was not strange for Pharaoh to hear a heavenly voice answer him:
“I granted you wisdom, O King — so why do you place so much confidence in others?”
The king was astonished at what the god had said. Distress rising in his heart, he replied with devout humility, “O Sacred Lord, I have served my people sincerely, and they have given me their love. I have been loyal to my friends, and they are bound in loyalty to me. How could this be a cause for reproach?”
The celestial voice, exalted beyond all equal or description, answered him:
“Behold the tree rich with leaves, whose branches covered in luxuriant greenery fill up the air. See how the people take refuge in its spreading shade from the burning rays of the sun, and how they pluck its low-hanging fruit. Then look upon this same tree in winter. See how the cold winds have stripped it bare, and how all of its leaves have fallen, and how its limbs are empty and exposed like a decaying corpse which embalming has not preserved. See then how the people forsake it, cutting off its branches to throw them in the fire.”
Pharaoh returned to his palace, depressed and dejected, pondering over and over again the meaning of what the god had told him. Doubt whispered in his breast and worry ruled his heart. For the first time, he began to envision the dear faces that accompanied him over so many long years in friendship and serenity with an aura of suspicion. He detected behind their amiable chatter naught but honey-coated lies, beyond their smiles only disgusting hypocrisy, and in their shows of obedience but the marks of dread and fear. A wave of violent, malevolent thought washed over him, and he wanted to return to that happy, vanished past whose white pages were now sullied with vile imaginings. It appeared to him that his life, which he had once felt securely to be an unbroken chain of joys, had been spurned by the eye of Fate. . a revolting farce and miserable misfortune hidden by a mask of fraudulent bliss.
Prince Sahura observed the king’s strange condition. Confused and discomfited, he asked his father what was troubling his tranquility. The prince loved his father to the point of worship, and the king loved his son as the most precious thing in his world. He trusted him as he trusted himself, so he confided in him the cause of his sorrow. He told him of his fears, and apprised him of his conversation with the god Khnum. Embarrassed, the prince did not know how to banish the phantoms of suspicion from Pharaoh’s mind.
Instead, the king continued to dwell on these thoughts, and said to his intended successor, “I cannot make an example of the deceivers without tangible proof of their duplicity. But I have arrived at a means by which I might expose their secret selves. So listen to me, my son: Starting tomorrow, I shall undertake a journey to the land of Punt. During my absence, you shall be charged with care of the State. Wait some days, then declare yourself sovereign over the Valley of the Nile. Entice my closest associates with high position and money. Make them promises and be generous with them — so that they lower their shield of submissiveness and obedience. By this means, we may see what is truly inside them.”
But the prince’s heart recoiled from Pharaoh’s plan. He remonstrated, saying, “I beg you, my lord, not to persuade me to take a position by which my youthful rebellion will be known to both heaven and earth! Nor to accept your long absence, which would rob my heart of its peace, and deprive the people of your care and vigilance.”
But the king prevailed over the prince’s anxieties, convincing him to bow to his wishes out of a sense of subservience. Userkaf then went to the youthful Queen Tey — she was not the heir apparent’s mother, who had died a long time before — to bid her good-bye. He also bid good-bye to his dear dog, Zay. Then he set out on a merchant ship to the sacred land of Punt, the source of fragrant incense. There he dwelt for not a little while, wandering among her lush, fertile valleys. Everywhere that he set down his foot, he received the honor and hospitality befitting one of Pharaoh’s subjects.
Yet Userkaf could not cease thinking about what he might encounter from his subjects and his companions upon his return. Whenever ill-thought tormented him, and deadly dreams and apprehensions appeared to him, he sought relief in beautiful memories, to evoke the feeling of trust they had given him, and to seek patience and repose from their inspiration. And when his breast was weighed down by worry and evil whisperings, and his heart stricken by homesickness, he longed to return to his native land.
So he gathered his scant baggage and sailed on an Egyptian ship, stepping once more onto the shore of that country to which he had offered the flower of his life for the sake of her welfare. He headed straight from the dock to the nearest village, where — dressed as a foreigner — he mixed, unrecognized, among its people. One day he asked a group of them, “O you men, who is your king?”
A young man with a sunburned face answered him, twirling an axe in his arms, “The blessed one’s name is ‘Sahura.’ ”
“And how do you see him?”
The young man answered with a passion to which his friends said, “Amen”:
“He comes to our aid if the Nile is too low, and helps us if calamity worsens, and all turns to gloom.”
The king then asked, “And how do you remember Userkaf?”
“Well enough — if he were still on the scene, and he were still our king.”
Pharaoh sighed, and asked in a wistful voice, “How can you abandon him, when he had been for you a most laudable ruler and guide?”
The youth threw him a nasty look, then said, as he gave him his back, “Sedition is an evil cursed by the gods.”
The king left the village in a melancholy way, heading toward the Nile and the seat of his realm. Looking up, he found himself facing the Temple of Khnum. He asked to meet Samun, the high priest, and was invited to enter the inner sanctum. When the high priest saw him, he knew him despite his alien attire. Overwhelmed with amazement and anguish, he shouted out hoarsely, “My lord, King Userkaf!”