Egypt Read Free Page B

and all those who have opposed him, or failed to support him, over the years,’ whispered Nebi.
    â€˜How many of us will be on that list!’ replied the older man, looking around at the company.
    â€˜It is a dismal prospect,’ agreed Hor. Lifting his stubby hand to the west, like a tragic actor, he intoned: ‘Like an army of shadows, his numberless soldiers in their divisions will return from their long campaigns against our arch-enemies, the Hittites, and turn their forces instead upon our own great people, to conquer and dominate and suppress our liberty. I see his ships, under blood-red sails, appearing out of the dark night. I see his troops occupying the streets of our city. I see the best men led forth to execution. I see calamity. I see blood running in the streets. I see the world turned upside down.’
    The audience seemed spellbound by his prophecy. I glanced at Nakht, who was observing the poet. We exchanged a slight rise of the eyebrows at the oracular melodrama of the performance. But Hor was serious.
    â€˜I have you all amazed. But Horemheb is famous for his cruelties and his passion for revenge. I heard a story, from the mouth of one who was there, that, once, the general ordered a captive Hittite commander to be boiled alive before him, for his entertainment … while he ate his dinner .’
    There were cries of revulsion among the group. More guests had gathered to listen, with their goblets and trays. But at this point, Nakht intervened.
    â€˜Come now, friend. Your poetic imagination is a great gift, but as a prophet perhaps you relish your visions of doom too greatly. The future is not so sure. Nor is it necessarily so bleak. No oracle can decide for certain what will happen. Indeed, we have reasons for imagining a different future altogether.’
    â€˜Such as? The ascension of Horemheb bringing “order” and “a return to the old values” and so on…?’ said Hor, sarcastically.
    â€˜His ascension would, in any case, be entirely illegitimate: he has not one drop of royal blood in him. Even Ay himself could claim a bloodline association with the royal family, however debatable. But Horemheb has simply married his way into the family, driven his poor first wife madly to her death, and then made the Queen, last of the true dynasty, into his sworn enemy,’ said Nakht.
    He rose, and walked among the little gathering. ‘Life, prosperity, health to the Queen,’ he intoned loyally, to appreciative murmurs from most of those present. And then he continued. ‘Friends, is Horemheb truly so powerful? Has he no opposition? Yes, he is General of the army of the Two Lands of Egypt; but do we, the leading men of Thebes, have no faith in our own power and authority? Do intellect and morality count for nothing in the way the future unfolds? Does Amun, the God of our great city, and of the royal family itself, have no power to save us? Can we not save ourselves?’
    There was a murmur of support for Nakht’s speech from the guests. But only Hor spoke what was on everyone’s mind.
    â€˜We would not be in this position at all if King Tutankhamun had not died in such tragic circumstances. He would have ruled, perhaps gloriously. There would have been heirs. The empire might have been great again. A new king, son of kings, could have emerged, heralding a bright future. Instead of which…’
    He held up his squat hands, with their many gold rings, and shrugged helplessly.
    â€˜The King’s death was an accident. No one could have foreseen it, or prevented it,’ replied Nakht, in a manner that warned everyone from contradicting him, or from saying anything further.
    Only one person spoke up: ‘It is true, there is a crisis in this land. Outside this bubble of affluence and illusion there is desperation. Poverty, cruelty and injustice have done their work on the people; corruption has replaced justice for the poor, and