Before the Throne Page 2

  “It would have been more propitious,” Djoser chided, “to direct the power at your disposal toward raids to secure the nation’s borders.”

  “The goods of neighboring countries came to me without combat,” objected Khufu. “My concern for the lives of my subjects was no less than my zeal for glory and immortality.”

  “Yet you took an innocent life when a man prophesied to you that a child other than your own would inherit your throne,” Osiris reminded him.

  “The king is obliged to protect his throne in order to defend the unity of his country,” said Khufu. “And in doing so, he is bound to be right sometimes—and wrong at others.”

  “Were you not, in this case, defying the will of the God?”

  “We do what we think duty demands, and the God does what He wills.”

  “Word spread that your eldest daughter fell into debauchery,” Osiris told Khufu.

  In a wounded tone, Khufu replied, “Sometimes the honor of even the noblest is injured without their knowledge.”

  “But it was said that you blessed her lewdness in order to wrench yourself from a painful predicament.”

  “That is pure calumny!” Khufu fumed. “Deceit has no place in this hallowed hall!”

  Granted permission to speak, Isis said, “This enlightened king is like a sun in the sky of sovereign thrones. And how many vanished empires have left behind them such a towering pyramid as his? All the while, his greatness is a source of envy for the weak and incapable, both abroad, and among his own people.”

  At this, Osiris commanded Khufu, “Take your seat, O King, among the Immortals.”

  4

  HORUS PROCLAIMED, “The Sage Ptahhotep!”

  A short, reed-thin man entered, whose bare head and feet detracted not at all from his subtle dignity. He tread cautiously forward until he stood politely before the court.

  Thoth, Recorder for the Gods, began to recite, “The Sage Ptahhotep. He lived one hundred and ten years, and served as vizier to King Izezi, one of the rulers of the Fifth Dynasty. He is the author of highly valued admonitions that achieved great acclaim.”

  When Osiris called upon him to speak, the wise man said, “I studied science in the temple of Ptah. My erudition was obvious, even as a child. After a long period in the priesthood, the king chose me as his minister. The days of greatness and glory had gone, as though they had never been. Those who sat on the throne were kings without power, and without wisdom as well. While they busied themselves with planning, building, and seeking to achieve their whimsical goals, the influence of the priests and the ambitions of the provincial governors for authority and to attain their own ends grew ever stronger. Corruption spread among those who held office, as the peasants were burdened with oppression and degradation. Meanwhile, the groans of complaint arose until they clogged the heavens like a fog. Over and over again, I contemplated the prevailing conditions, unable to accept them, dismayed by the darkened relations between humanity and the gods. Yet I did not stint in offering advice—which was lost in the folds of indolence and greed. And when I reached my one-hundred-and-tenth year, the king summoned me and ordered me to compose a book of my choicest words of wisdom—and this I did.”

  “Let us hear one of your sayings,” Osiris commanded.

  “ ‘If an important man invites you to supper, accept only what is offered to you, and do not speak unless you are asked to,’ ” said Ptahhotep.

  “What provoked your interest in manners at table?”

  “While apparently focusing on etiquette at meals, I was really critiquing the covetousness of the priests, who were demanding larger and larger endowments while gorging themselves on food and drink!”

  “Tell us another,” said Osiris.

  “ ‘Do not betray one who trusts you to bolster your glory, or to build your house,’ ” said Ptahhotep. “Here I was speaking of the provincial governors, who were constantly expanding their own influence—thus threatening the nation’s unity.”

  “Had they forgotten,” King Menes asked, “the blood that was shed for the sake of unifying the country?”

  “And how could they spurn the traditions and the morals that were held sacred in my era?” seconded Khufu.

  Osiris motioned to Ptahhotep to resume his recitation. “And you also said,” he reminded the sage, “ ‘When you enter another’s house, be careful not to approach the women, for how many have met their doom that way!’ Did you base that on what was said had happened in Khufu’s harem?”

  “To similar purpose,” replied Ptahhotep, “I also said, ‘If you are wise, you will put your house in order and love your wife, who is your partner in life. Feed her and clothe her; give her fragrances and bestow pleasure upon her. Do not be harsh with her, for by tenderness you will possess her heart. If her requests are granted, she will be your happiness and well-being.’ ”

  “Give us a proverb addressed to all,” commanded Osiris.

  “Fail not to adorn yourself with the ornament of learning and the finery of fair behavior.”

  “There were no sages in my time,” said King Menes. “But men freed their land from the invaders and unified their kingdom. And yet, here was an age of dissolution and corruption that produced nothing of value but some pretty words. Of what use, then, is wisdom?”

  “Wisdom will endure like a pyramid—or even longer,” Khufu declared.

  Isis pleaded, “Do not belittle my insightful son. We are in need of the wise man in times of decline, just as we need a doctor during a plague. The sweet scent of the sound word shall linger forever.”

  Finally, Osiris told him, “Proceed, O Sage, to your place among the Immortals.”

  5

  HORUS DECLAIMED with his reverberating voice, “The rebels of the Age of Darkness that fell between the collapse of the Old Kingdom and the creation of the Middle Kingdom!”

  In came a group of people of varying shapes and sizes. They approached, wrapped in their shrouds but with bare heads and feet, until they lined up in single file before the throne.

  Thoth, Scribe of the Gods, read a new page aloud. “These are the leaders of the revolution: they directed the angry people in a bloody, destructive revolt. They then ruled the country for the long period that lasted from the fall of the Old Kingdom to the start of the Middle Kingdom. Afterward, they left behind them nothing to mark their former presence but ruined temples, plundered tombs, and monstrous memories.”

  “Nominate someone to speak for you,” Osiris ordered them.

  They all pointed to a tall, gaunt man with a stony face.

  “Abnum,” they said, “for he was the first to call for disobedience and fighting!”

  Osiris then called upon him to speak.

  “History has neglected our names and deeds,” intoned Abnum. “History remembers the elite, and we were from the poor—the peasants, the artisans, and the fishermen. Part of the justice of this sacred hall is that it neglects no one. We have endured agonies beyond what any human can bear. When our ferocious anger was raised against the rottenness of oppression and darkness, our revolt was called chaos, and we were called mere thieves. Yet it was nothing but a revolution against despotism, blessed by the gods.”

  “How could the gods bless aggression against sacrosanct things?” erupted Khufu.

  “The tragedy began with the weakening of King Pepi II through the ravages of age,” replied Abnum. “He became confused, and no longer knew what was happening around him. The governors of the provinces became independent in their nomes, and ruled autocratically over their inhabitants, imposing tyrannical taxes upon them. The priests made common cause with the governors, eager to preserve their temple estates, and so permitted them every form of evil through their fraudulent religious edicts. They paid no mind to the laments of the deprived, and their sufferings from sorrow, humiliation, and starvation. Whenever an oppressed person approached them, they demanded subservience and patience, and promised that their lot would be better in the world to come. Our despair became extreme
—for no governor was just, no law was sovereign, and no justice came down to us. So I went out among my people and urged them to disobey and to fight oppression with force—and quickly they answered the call. They smashed the barrier of fear and of obsolete traditions, and dealt lethal blows to the tyrants and oppressors. The holy fire spread everywhere in the country, the missiles of burning rage raining down upon the governors, the bureaucrats, the officials of the temples and cemeteries, until we occupied the key positions of power.”

  “Have you not read the verses of the wise Ipuwer, which lament the loss of the sanctities, what befell the elite, and the destruction of values?” Osiris asked.

  “Ipuwer was a great poet,” answered Abnum. “But he was loyal to the oppressors. His tears of sadness were shed for the sons and daughters of tyrants—and he was shocked that their places were taken by the common people’s children.”

  “You speak, Abnum,” adjudged Ptahhotep, “from a standpoint of envious hatred: that is a horrendous sin.”

  “That hatred was sown in our hearts by the oppressors themselves.”

  “By the gods, what I’m hearing is amazing,” interjected Djoser. “What was Egypt but a boat filled with sacred traditions, which capsized as a building does when a key brick loosens? Pharaoh is the divinity made flesh. The nobility are his deputies who reflect his light. The civil functionaries serve him and his subjects are the bearers of his message. How could their places be filled by a bunch of peasants, artisans, and fishermen?”

  “Yet they did indeed take their positions,” Abnum answered, “proving that they were better than those whom they replaced, and that the gods embody themselves in whoever raises the standard of justices and mercy, regardless of their identity.”

  “What impudence!” shouted Djoser.

  Osiris swiveled toward him. “I will not suffer any speech that violates courtesy. Apologize.”

  “I offer you my apology: I am sorry,” said Djoser.

  “The traditions of this court permit you to take part in discussions,” Osiris said to those seated in the gallery of Immortals, “but within the limits of politeness. Remember well that you might in future be addressing persons who belong to other faiths, founded after your own.”

  Then, turning toward Abnum, he said, “Your era was one of darkness, yet did you not leave even one monument, nor a single document, behind you?”

  “That is the work of historians,” pleaded Abnum. “The peasants set up a government drawn from their own sons. As they ruled the country, security was established while justice spread its reach, along with the shade of compassion. The poor were satisfied; they gained science and knowledge, filling the highest positions. The nation ascended, with no less greatness than the state of King Khufu, yet without wasting money on building pyramids or waging wars. This renaissance was financed through agriculture, industry, and the arts, plus the revival of the villages and towns. And when—after we had gone—Egypt of the pharaohs returned, they burned the papyri that recorded our deeds.”

  “The wisdom to build pyramids was lacking among you,” rebuked Khufu.

  “Nor did you have the sagacity to declare war in order to raid the lands on your borders,” echoed Djoser.

  “We felt it was better to educate a peasant than to throw up a temple,” Abnum rebutted.

  “You have spoken blasphemy,” said Ptahhotep.

  “The gods do not need places of worship, but the peasants need learning. That is why the gods blessed our rule for a hundred years with peace and prosperity.”

  “Then why did your kingdom come to an end?” asked Khufu.

  “When our rulers forgot the root that had nurtured them,” explained Abnum. “They dreamed, like those before them, that they were descended from the offspring of Ra. They were afflicted by pride, and darkness crept into them, until they were apprehended by that which overtakes all oppressors.”

  “Your wealth dissipated and crimes were committed that know no sanction by any religion, morality, or law,” lamented Osiris.

  “I bear witness before your justice that I personally gave no orders for any of that, nor was I ever informed of it,” the leading rebel remonstrated.

  “I concede that this is one of the wisest and noblest of my sons,” said Isis. “My country was granted good fortune in his time that she has not tasted before or since. His faith testifies to his truthfulness and piety. As for the sins committed during his revolution, there are always criminals who conceal themselves among the restless masses to launch their malicious acts of mayhem.”

  Osiris, after thinking for a moment, uttered his judgment: “Gentlemen, take your seats among the Immortals.”

  6

  HORUS HAILED, “Amenemhat the First!”

  A strongly built man of medium height entered, in the manner of those before him, until he stood before the throne.

  Thoth, Scribe of the Gods, began reading aloud, “Leading ruler of the Middle Kingdom. He cleared the country of intruders, while putting a stop to internal quarrels. He presided over the provincial governors with wisdom, and he invaded the land of Nubia.”

  Osiris asked him to speak.

  “I was one of the provincial potentates,” said Amenemhat I, “when the central government was extremely weak and corrupt. The wars between the chiefs of the nomes did not abate until Bedouin tribes seized some parts of the realm. I was greatly saddened by what had befallen my country, and resolved to save her. Imposing austerity upon myself and my family, I drilled my men for action. Then I invaded the provinces surrounding me, and declared myself king, demanding the loyalty of the governors to me. In doing so, I was content to concede some prerogatives to them, while choosing my personal retinue from among their sons. Then I marched with a mighty army to rid the nation of the foreign interlopers. I set the administration in order, restoring the temples and spreading security and justice throughout the countryside. Following that, I struck into Nubia to set up a house of worship there to the gods that had backed my victory.”

  “You were nearly killed in a conspiracy among your courtiers,” remarked Osiris. “How do you explain that?”

  “A woman wanted to usurp the throne in favor of her son, and recruited some of the Nubians to help her.”

  “Nubia was a poor country, which could not endure the plunder of some of her lands to endow them for a temple,” said Osiris.

  “We encountered necessities that we could not avoid,” Amenemhat I asserted.

  “It was your duty to return power to the peasants,” admonished Abnum. “But you forgot your own origins, and placed the edifice of the old oppressor back on its foundations, instead.”

  “The provincial governors had forgotten their roots, while putting the peasants back in power would have meant civil war!” Amenemhat I protested.

  “You restored the sacred heritage of Egypt to her,” said Khufu with approval.

  Then Isis added, “He saved Egypt from chaos, and sat her once again on the throne of glory. He was unable to do more good than that.”

  “Take your place among the Immortals,” pronounced Osiris.

  7

  HORUS SHOUTED, “Amenemhat the Second!”

  Thoth then read aloud, “He followed his father’s policies.”

  Summoned by Osiris to speak, Amenemhat II said, “I was thoroughly versed in all of my father’s ways. Finding no better path, I followed them loyally and to the letter.”

  “But not to take a step forward is to take two steps backward,” Abnum protested.

  “I deepened Egypt’s ties to Nubia,” Amenemhat II rejoined. “And I forged new bonds with the land of Punt, from which we imported incense and perfumes.”

  Abnum asked a question of Osiris. “My Lord,” he said, “shall all the Immortals be equal in the Other World?”

  “You must learn, Abnum, that you are no longer a revolutionary,” Osiris said dryly. “But there is no harm if I describe Destiny for you. Be aware that my trial sends souls to three different abodes: Paradise, the Infern
o, and that which lies between the two, the Place of the Insignificant—for those who are not guilty, and merit neither Hell nor Heaven. In addition, there are distinct ranks in Heaven, among them kings and servants, according to the kind of work each performed in the world.…”

  “For this king’s sake,” interrupted Isis, “take into account that the nation was blessed in his age with that which had graced his father’s—safety and prosperity that could not be denied.”

  And so Osiris decreed, “Take your seat among the Immortals.”

  8

  Horus called out, “Amenemhat the Third!”

  A giant came in, walking in his winding sheet until he stood before the throne.

  Thoth, Scribe of the Gods, then read aloud, “In his time, the state enjoyed stability, security, and strength. He directed his ardor to extracting minerals from the desert and revitalizing the means of irrigation. The harvests increased, and wealth spread over all.”

  Osiris asked him to speak.

  “I inherited a stable kingdom,” said Amenemhat III, “that I made even more secure by building a strong army. In my fifty-year reign, I fortunately was fated to send mining expeditions into the deserts. I reformed the methods for watering crops, and well-being overflowed from it. Literature and art rose as they never had before. In my epoch, the people used to chant and sing: ‘He clothes the Two Lands in the garb of greenery; He is our nourishment—his mouth gives bounty.’ ”

  Osiris addressed him, “Your grandfather left a teaching that said:

  Summon all sternness to treat with those ’neath thee,

  For folk but revere those who fill them with fear.

  Make no one your brother and no one too dear!