Three Novels of Ancient Egypt

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?”