Three Novels of Ancient Egypt

But the commander was not satisfied. “Please forgive me, sire,” he said, “but I have no dealings with lions. However, as I'm standing right in front of him, perhaps he could try his magical art on me. If he so wishes — that is, to make me believe in him — then he could force me to submit to his will, and wrench control of my own strength from me.”

A heavy silence fell. The faces of some of those assembled seemed anxious, while others expressed exultation or the simple love of gawking. Both groups looked at the magician to see what he would do with the obstinate commander. They huddled about him as he stood quietly and serenely, a confident smile stuck to his thin, angular lips. Pharaoh let out a huge laugh, asking in a voice not lacking in sarcasm, “Arbu, do you really hold yourself so little dear?”

With stunning self-assurance, the commander replied, “My self, sire, is strong, thanks to the strength of my mind — which mocks the conceits of mere legerdemain.”

At this, anger flashed on the face of Prince Hordjedef. Aiming his vehement speech directly at the commander, he said to the king, “Let what you wish come to pass. If it pleases my lord, may Djedi be permitted to respond to this challenge?”

Pharaoh gazed upon his furious son, then told the wizard, “Very well, then — let us see how your sorcery overcomes the might of our friend Arbu.”

Commander Arbu stood regarding the magician — with an arrogant glare. He wanted to turn his face away from him — with contempt — then felt a power pulling at him from — within the man's eyes. Seething — with rage, he struggled to turn his neck, to — wrench loose his gaze from the overwhelming attraction that held it fast. Instead, weak and frustrated, he found his eyes locked into the bulging, gleaming orbs of Djedi, — which burned and blazed like a pair of crystals reflecting the rays of the sun. Their brilliance outshone that in Arbu's own eyes, — which darkened as the light of the world seemed to fade out of them. The great soldier's strength disappeared with it, as he sank into submission.

When Djedi was convinced that his preternatural power had taken full effect, he stood up tall and erect. Pointing to his seat, he shouted at the commander imperiously, “Sit down!”

Arbu carried out the order slavishly. He staggered like a drunk, throwing himself onto the chair with an air of doomed compliance, in a state of total devastation.

A disbelieving ‘Ah!” escaped the lips of those present. Prince Hordjedef smiled with relief and pride. As for Djedi, he looked respectfully at Khufu, saying with an easy grace, “Sire, I am able to make him do whatever is desired, and he would be powerless to resist a single demand. Yet I am reluctant to do this to a man such as he, one of our homeland's most estimable commanders, and of Pharaoh's personal companions. So I ask, is my lord satisfied with what he has seen?”

Khufu nodded his head as though to say, “Yes.”

Quickly going over to the bewildered commander, the sorcerer ran his nimble fingers over Arbu's brow, reciting in a faint voice a peculiar incantation. Little by little the man began to revive, the life gradually creeping back into his senses until his consciousness returned. For a while he remained like a person perplexed, peering all around him as though knowing nothing of what he saw. Then his eyes rested on Djedi's face — and he remembered. His cheeks and his forehead flushing a deep red, he avoided looking at the fearsome fellow as he rose from his seat, stumbling embarrassed and vanquished along the balcony's floor.

The king smiled at him, upbraiding him gently, “How falsehood had possessed you!”

The commander bowed his head and mumbled, “Lofty is the power of the gods — their — wonders are exalted on earth and in heaven!”

To the magician, the king then remarked, “You have done well, O most able man. But have you the kind of authority over the Unseen that you have over the minds of created beings?”

“I do indeed, my lord,” Djedi replied confidently.

Khufu fell deep into thought, contemplating what sort of questions to ask the magician. At length his face brightened with the light of revelation. “Can you tell me,” he inquired, “if one of my seed is destined to sit on the throne of Egypt's kings?”

The man seemed gripped with fear and unease. Pharaoh perceived what troubled him.

“I grant you full freedom to speak,” he said. “I assure you there will be no penalty for whatever you say.”

Djedi glanced meaningfully at the face of his lord — then tilted his head toward the sky, absorbed in fervent prayer. He continued this, without moving or speaking, for a full hour. When he returned to confront the king, his kin, and the courtiers, his skin had turned sallow, his lips white, and his countenance confused. The group grew alarmed as they sensed the approach of imminent evil.

His patience exhausted, Prince Khafra demanded, “What's wrong with you that you don't speak, when Pharaoh has guaranteed your immunity from harm?”