FOURTEEN

Now, even as He had promised, the Pharaoh spoke for a long time, or so, within the turns of my spell, did it seem long. My parents did not speak, and only the fireflies danced, but with such close response to the Pharaoh’s voice that in truth I saw Him and my great-grandfather most clearly.

“I cannot bear Khem-Usha,” said the Pharaoh. “You may ask—why then did I leave My guests to go with him? What could he have said to take Me out of My chair, and away from you and your family? Well, that, I cannot speak of yet. Say it is a matter between Khem-Usha and Myself, a call on a boyhood friendship—except we never liked each other. Now, however, it is worse. I cannot bear priests. They inhabit My thoughts. They are like ants upon the very food of My thought. And he is My High Priest. When I visit Thebes, he upbraids Me for not coming to the Temple of Amon more often, then he dares to scold Me here for not attending the Temple of Ptah. ‘Don’t you realize,’ I said to him, ‘that I spent part of My boyhood in the Hat-Ka-Ptah, right here in Memphi. Let Me remind you, Khem-Usha,’ I told him, ‘that when I was a child, I caught the eye of the King, My Father, and it created such jealousy in the harem that My mother was terrified one of the other little queens would do away with Me. Don’t you remember, Khem-Usha?’ I said to him, and of course he did. His mother was the little queen of whom My mother was so frightened. There could not have been a harem prince with poorer prospects than My own in those days. There were all those half brothers ahead of Me, and everybody was certain I would become a priest. Nobody knew My kinsmen would die so quickly, did they then?” Now He struck the leopard’s tail across His own thigh. “I tell you too much,” He said.

“Yes,” my great-grandfather replied. “Tomorrow, You will not forgive me for all you have said tonight.”

“I will. You would do well to trust Me. I have decided to trust you, My friend.”

“You are confident that I am Your friend?” asked Menenhetet.

“At the least, you are the enemy of My enemy.” Ptah-nem-hotep gave His short laugh.

My great-grandfather bowed.

“I wish to talk more than you can realize,” the Pharaoh said. “I feel a great wrath toward Khem-Usha. I would end his influence upon Me. I do not understand him. Tonight, while we were alone, he spoke for longer than I have ever heard him go on in My presence. I could not believe it! Khem-Usha, the imperturbable. Can there ever have been a High Priest so calm as Khem-Usha? But tonight, he was full of complaints. He is not so indifferent to the Feast of the Pig as he pretends. On all other nights he may act as if his fingers are in the honey of Maat, and he alone knows the sweetness of eternal calm, but tonight I must have roused him more than I thought. He certainly acted as if it were the Night of the Pig.” Ptah-nem-hotep smiled. “Once he was alone with Me, a few of his complaints came forth. The true ones. I could welcome that. Kings art lied to by all people, so the truth is air to Me and fresh blood. The Night of the Pig feels like the Night of the Blessed Fields. I come to know the mind of others more quickly. That enables Me to rule with justice, not vanity. And if I rule with justice, then, respect Me or not, the Gods still have to offer Their support. That must be true. So I encouraged Khem-Usha to speak. To My surprise, he complained that his duties were too many. That was a most unusual remark. I have never seen any other man take so many tasks upon himself. Khem-Usha understands piety: Duty brings power. So I did not believe it when he said that he could not continue to act as My Vizier.

“Why, after the last Vizier died, Khem-Usha employed every means to be appointed as acting Vizier. He would, he promised, fulfill the task for Me until I could find a truly suitable man. Of course, he knew there were not many able people in the Court any more. While I did not like him much, I chose him. He did the work. Now he is complaining that the task is too hard. Too hard, ne means, unless he is given the full title of Vizier as well. So I decided to tease him. ‘That is true,’ I told him. ‘I think you might give up trying to be both High Priest and Vizier.’

“Do you know, he only nodded when I said this. Then he enumerated his duties as if I were not familiar with them. He just about whined through this speech. I did not appreciate what he was doing. I did not understand how clever he is. On every other day of the year he will never say a word unless he can say it slowly. He has no feelings that are small. His manner looks to move you aside—like a hippopotamus! If I give him a rebuff, he merely adds it to his weight—all the better to bulk him up—one is dealing with a hippopotamus!” Now Ptah-nem-hotep stopped and gave such a curious look to my great-grandfather that I did not know if His mouth was twisted by derision or by anguish, but then I realized He was speaking once more in the exact voice of Khem-Usha, and in his manner as well, that same voice which went on much too steadily for anyone to interrupt. “Each morning,” He began, “after prayers are conducted at dawn, I must unseal the heavy doors of the Court so that the office of the Royal Estate may open. Without me, no day of governing can begin. So, there is no morning when I do not read every report that comes from the authorities of the Crown in each nome of the forty-two nomes. Even the most petty official is required to write to me three times a year—on the first day of Sowing, of Harvest, and of Inundation. By this means am I able to see into many lies these same officials have forgotten, for they contradict themselves, or tell the truth today where yesterday they did not. So I am alert to the seed of upheaval in a modest discontent, and can sniff the beginnings of treason in the smallest reluctance to follow orders. In that manner, no nome can stir without my knowledge. As Minister of War, I review each month the disposition of our troops within the Two-Lands, and abroad. As Minister of Ecclesiastical Affairs, I oversee the scribes who tally the gifts given to the temples. As Minister of Economic Affairs, I must know when to proclaim the cutting of timber and the irrigation of the canals. As Minister of Justice, I review the decisions of all judges in all courts, and I not only perform these tasks daily but each season pay a visit to the nomes, and meet Your Officials, so that I may recognize whether they are to be trusted. And these are but a few of my tasks as Your acting Vizier. Yet, as High Priest, I must meet each afternoon with the Treasurer of the Sanctuary, the Scribe of the Sacrifice, the Superintendent of Property of the Temples of Amon, the Scribe of the Corn Accounts, the Superintendent of the Meadows, of the Cattle, of the Storehouses, of the Painters and Goldsmiths, and I do not even speak of my greater duties, yet which of the holiest rituals in the Temple of Amon at Karnak can take place without my person? At dawn, and again at midday, I serve as proxy for Your Person, inasmuch as You so rarely appear in Thebes. Then I must do it again at evening. In the Temple, I am obliged to serve both as High Priest, and as Pharaoh. How much could go wrong unless I am there to instruct the priests in clearness-of-voice, correct gesture, the divine order of the words, and the sequence of the prayers.

“Yet, with the accomplishment of all these duties—and this is my true pain—I find that each day I have failed to instruct You, for on those rare days when You are in Thebes beside me, I can see, as I offer my sermon, that You do not listen. Nor does it matter to You that in Memphi Your day is spent enjoying musicians, or reading from Your favorite love poems, while ignoring the maxims and deeds of great ancestors. Nor that You spend the afternoon speaking to Your cook, plucking flowers in Your garden, or drinking with officers of the King’s Guard. Or, to the greater glory of the Two-Lands, You entertain, on rare occasion, a visiting Prince. It does not matter that You are renowned in the gossip of Memphi as a Pharaoh Who cannot wait for night, but visits His harem by day to watch His little queens dance, and—by what I near—hardly more than that. Yet none of this would matter if You could listen to me and know my words, for then You could stand as Master of the Earth—in Your own Person!—there to fortify Egypt with the Will of Your ancestors. I see a great breastplate on my Pharaoh, and the Crown of the White Land and the Crown of the Red rests upon His head, yet within the robes, no man sits but Yourself, and Your voice is small!”

“He did not say those last words,” exclaimed my great-grandfather.

In response to this interruption, the voice of the High Priest left the throat of my Pharaoh, and His own voice came forth. “No, he said it. I was not prepared. His wit was so weak, his feelings were so pompous. I was even sorry for him. To think, he dared to say, ‘Your voice is small!’ ”

“How,” asked my great-grandfather, “did You respond?”

“I told him he was an ox and built for burden, and that the fate of Egypt depended more upon the tenderness with which I hold a flower, than upon the reports of a thousand of his scribes. Yet all the while I spoke, I did not believe Myself. My Gods had most certainly deserted Me. I had been chided by Khem-Usha, then insulted, but the walls of his temple most certainly did not crash.

“To My horror, I now began to talk too much. It is due to that unhappy business between us as boys. I said to him, ‘I may be no more than the eleventh son of My Father, but My mother had one splendid virtue in His eyes, Khem-Usha, she was loyal through all those terrible times in the harem when His little queens, most certainly including your mother, tried to assassinate Him. That is why I was brought into the line of succession. Of course, that by itself does not bring Me very near to Amon, does it? Yet, this I will say, Khem-Usha, I am the Pharaoh, and your duties exist to no better purpose than to allow Me as many hours as I require each day to meditate upon the needs of the Two-Lands.’ Yet all the while I was scolding him, I kept feeling the point of his rebuke. My voice was too small! ‘Declare,’ I wished to say to him, ‘that I am not a good King. Say My third leg is as weak as Horus the boy. Dare even to say that I watch My little queens, but rarely join them. But do not tell Me that My voice is small. For I can speak in all the voices of Egypt, and most certainly your own.’ Then I rose in My anger and said aloud to him, ‘Let your duties as Vizier be given to another. Serve only as My High Priest.’ He was much agitated at what I said, especially when I added, ‘Menenhetet may be just the Vizier for Me.’ He was aghast, I assure you, and soon left.”

“You spoke of me as Your Vizier,” said my great-grandfather.

“I did.”

“You meant each word?”

“I do not know. At the moment I spoke, it made great sense to Me.”

“For if you did not mean it,” said my great-grandfather, “we may all be dead.” He gave a shrug as if the foundation of pride was to live lightly with such thoughts.

“I believe I know what you mean. Still, I would hear you say it.”

“I will not deny,” said Menenhetet, “that I have thought of being Your Vizier. If the wisdom acquired in four lives cannot serve a vast purpose, then of what use is it? So I came here with the hope that we could talk of such serious matters. Yet, I cannot say I have been confident. For weeks I have heard that You will depose Khem-Usha as Vizier and replace him with Your Chief Scribe, Nes-Amon.”

“Do you believe such rumors?”

“He is a Libyan,” said my great-grandfather, “but then, Nes-Amon has been with You for many years. You have raised him to the rank of Prince. He is an able man”

“I have discussed the post with him. The Libyan does not have your knowledge.”

“Still,” said my great-grandfather, “You can depend on his loyalty. If I were Your Vizier, there would not be a day when someone did not murmur to You that I am no longer to be trusted.”

“That is a judgment I reserve for Myself. My judgment of men—if I am given the opportunity to listen—is faultless. Of course, few men dare to speak to a Pharaoh. You do. Indeed, I have just decided to tell you the truth. Until tonight, I was ready to choose Nes-Amon as My next Vizier. He is, indeed, an able man. But there is a place in every servant’s heart where he is not to be trusted. I will admit to you that Khem-Usha, when he whispered to Me, was not speaking of our boyhood together—far from it! Rather, he said word had come to him that Nes-Amon was ready to march upon the Palace. The influence of Nes-Amon is large with My charioteers.”

“When did Khem-Usha say this would take place?”

“He told Me there was a good chance it would take place tonight. I laughed. ‘You do not have a nose for military matters,’ I told him. ‘No army likes to move under a full moon, and when it is the Night of the Pig—all would get lost.’ I convinced him. I said: ‘If My Palace were open to you, Khem-Usha, you still would not dare to take it. Not tonight. Depend on it. Nes-Amon feels no more confident than you.’ I believe Khem-Usha agreed. He certainly became less agitated about Nes-Amon, and it was then he began to scold Me about the extent of his duties—I think he was trying to frighten Me by demonstrating the extent of his influence over the Two-Lands. Yet I do not know why he dared to speak to Me so at the end. He was taking a terrible chance. He understands how unhappy I am already with the situation. Why double the jeopardy of his position by insulting Me?”

“I think Khem-Usha wants You to dismiss him,” said my great-grandfather. “Many are loyal to him now but not so devoted that they will dare to move against You. You are the Pharaoh. But if You take away his powers, then those who serve him closely have also lost. So then they must move with him.”

“What would you advise Me to do?”

“I would encourage Nes-Amon to think that he will certainly replace Khem-Usha, and I would convince Khem-Usha that You will soon make him full Vizier. At the proper moment, appoint a Vizier over both of them. Leave Thebes and Upper Egypt to Khem-Usha, and Memphi and Lower Egypt to Nes-Amon. They can each be called Vizier-to-the-High-Vizier.”

“You would be the High Vizier?”

“It would take every skill I possess.”

“I should think so.” Ptah-nem-hotep gave a cough, rueful as despair itself. “I do not know what to do,” He said. “Your enemies will never allow any quality in you more noble than bat shit.”

“That is what I fear the least,” said Menenhetet. “A man with a dreadful reputation who has just been given terrible powers is treated with great respect. All nope he will not act like a tyrant.”

“Then, what is your fear?”

“That You will lose everything tonight. I would raise my guard to man the walls.”

“I do not trust My officers. The half who are not close to Nes-Amon may be loyal to Khem-Usha.” Now, Ptah-nem-hotep gave a sweet smile to Menenhetet. “My situation is as follows: I detest Khem-Usha, no longer trust Nes-Amon, and do not know you at all. Yet, at this moment, I feel happy. My belief is that the Pharaoh, if He is wise enough to think only of what is before Him, whether it be His Crook, His Flail, or no more than the flower in His hand, is the greatest force in the Two-Lands. No army can move against Him when His thoughts have no fear. Do you Believe this?”

“I do not know.”

“I will tell you. I do not have the wisdom one needs. But I am drawn to you. If you are wise enough not to deceive Me, and tell Me all that I wish to know, then I cannot fail to increase in strength and wisdom. Of course, it is hard not to suppose that you would deceive Me.”

“There are nights,” said Menenhetet, “when I would seek to deceive the Lord Osiris Himself.”

Ptah-nem-hotep laughed with true merriment. “I want you to tell Me,” he said, “of My ancestor, Ramses the Second. He is the one whose strength I will need in the hours and years to come. I want to know what took place at the Battle of Kadesh, and all that followed upon it.”

“To tell You might take every moment that is left in this night.”

“I am awake until morning.” He hesitated. “Will you speak of the Battle of Kadesh?”

“If I think on this matter, I want to be Your Vizier.”

“After listening to you, I may have no other choice.”

My great-grandfather laughed. “When I tell my story truly, You will learn so much that You will have no further need of me. You will be a Pharaoh greater than others, and Master of the Secrets. Who, but myself, has known the Great Pharaoh, Ramses the Second?”

“You make Me grateful before you begin.”

My great-grandfather gave a smile that showed the strength of his face and the youth of the sixty years of his fourth life. “The story of my first life will certainly take us through the night. That is much more certain than that I shall be Vizier. But if this—as I feel with every breath I take—is a night when much comes to an end, and much is ready to change, then let us go back to the patio. I will offer a story far better than any father ever gave a son, but I would like to tell it by the light of the fireflies. You saw them truly. They bring back thoughts of campfires after the roar of the day is done. And I would like my granddaughter to listen as well. And my great-grandson. They are now the nearest to my flesh of all four lives.”