Three Novels of Ancient Egypt

The king was experiencing a tempest in his heart and soul. Unable to remain idle, he issued an order to his commanders to make a triumphal victory entrance into Thebes at the head of the army. When he turned to Hur, he found that he was staring at him with startled, puzzled, pitying eyes.

15

The field emptied and the king made his way toward the Nile followed by his guards. He urged the drivers of his chariot to hurry and plunged into his private dreams and thoughts. What a shock his heart had been subjected to today! What a surprise he had endured! It had never occurred to him that he might meet Amenridis again. He had despaired of ever seeing her and she had become for him a dream that had illumined his night for a brief moment, then been swallowed by the darkness. Then he had seen her again, unexpectedly and without design. The fates had thrown her on his mercy and put her all of a sudden under his control. In such a state of ferment was his breast, so hard was his heart beating, and so heated were the emotions that had been awoken in him, that sweet memories were brought back to life and he surrendered himself to their tender current, forgetful of all else.

But she, could it be that she had recognized him? And if she had not, did she still remember the happy trader Isfmis, whose life she had rescued from a certain death and to whom she had said, with beating heart and welling tears, “Till we meet again!”? And whom she had yearned for in his exile and to whom she had sent a message in whose lines she had hidden her love as fire is hidden in the flint? Did her heart still beat as it had the first time in the cabin of the royal vessel? Dear God! How was it that he felt that he was approaching a boundless happiness? Should he trust his heart or suspect it? The king thought of her wretched appearance when the insurgents had thrust her toward him. His strong body trembled and a shudder ran through it. He asked himself sadly — as he thought of her with the angry people around her spitting on her, abusing her, and insulting her father, and remembered the anger, fury, and pride that had shown in her face — would her anger abate if she knew that she was the prisoner of Isfmis? He felt an anxiety that had never assailed him in the most trying of circumstances. His cavalcade having reached the shore, he descended and went to the royal vessel, where he summoned the officer to whom he had entrusted her and asked him, “How is the princess?”

“She has been put, my lord, in a private chamber and brought new clothes. Food has been offered her, but she refuses to touch it and she treated the soldiers with contempt and called them slaves. Nevertheless, she has been given the best treatment, as Your Majesty commanded.”

The king looked uneasy and went with quiet steps to the chamber. A guard opened the door, closing it after the king had entered. The chamber was small and elegant, lit by a large lamp suspended from the ceiling. To the right of the entrance the princess, in simple clothes of linen, sat on a luxuriously upholstered couch. She had combed her hair, which the insurgents had disarranged, and let it fall in a large plait. He looked at her, smiled, and found that she was looking at him in astonishment and disbelief, seemingly confused and mistrustful, as though she could not believe her eyes. He greeted her, saying, “Good evening, Princess.”

She did not answer him but, on hearing his voice, seemed to become yet more confused and mistrustful. The youth held her in a long look of love and infatuation, then asked her, “Do you lack anything?”

She looked closely at his face, raised her eyes to his helmet and lowered them to his armor, and asked him, “Who are you?”

“I am called Ahmose, Pharaoh of Egypt.”

Distaste appeared in her eyes. He wanted to confuse her yet more, so he took off his helmet and placed it on a table, telling himself that she would not be able to believe her eyes. He saw her looking at his curly hair in disbelief. As though it was he who was startled, he said to her, “Why do you look at me thus, as though you knew someone who resembled me?”

She did not know what to say and made no reply. He longed to hear her voice and feel her tenderness, so he said to her, “Suppose I told you my name was Isfmis, would you answer me?”

No sooner did she hear the name Isfmis than she stood up and shouted at him, “So you are Isfmis!”

He took a step toward her, looked at her tenderly, and grasped her — wrist, saying, “I am Isfinis, Princess Amenridis.”

She tore her wrist away and said, “I understand nothing.”

Ahmose smiled and said gently, “What do names matter? Yesterday I was called Isfinis and today I am called Ahmose, but I am one person and one heart.”

“How strange! How can you say that you are one person? You were a trader who sold trinkets and pygmies and now you fight and wear the clothes of a king.”