Naguib Mahfouz - Before the Throne

“Was the queen never vanquished by the woman in you?” Hatshepsut put to her.

“I never knew defeat, except before my son.”

“But a woman is still a woman,” insisted Ptahhotep.

“Yet Tiye was of a kind never seen before — nor shall occur again,” the queen replied.

“This lady has proven the worthiness of woman to rule even more than Hatshepsut herself had,” advised Isis. “Her husband was a great king, and how preposterous that his appetite for women or taste for the pleasures of life in any way reduced his performance as pharaoh. Only after he had made his lowest subjects happy did he live a life of comfort and ease, in which they also shared with him. My heart is gladdened by this son and this daughter.”

And so Osiris commanded them, “Go take your seats among the Immortals.”

HORUS HAILED, “King Akhenaten and Queen Nefertiti!”

In came a man whose face fused both the male and the female, along with a ravishing woman. They walked forward in their winding sheets until they stood before the throne.

Thoth read from the divine tome, “Dual heirs to the throne and rule, they carried out their duties faithfully. A religious revolution dawned, calling for the worship of a new, sole deity. Abolishing the old gods, Akhenaten proclaimed the reign of love and peace, and the equality of human beings. Yet internally the country fell prey to dissent and corruption, while abroad the empire faced both dismemberment and loss. The land found itself on the verge of civil war, and the king fell from power. A counterrevolution then took hold: the historians and kings blotted his epoch from the annals, considering it the most destructive period ever for the country — one that destroyed it utterly.”

Osiris bid Akhenaten to address the court.

“From a very early age,” began Akhenaten, “I persistently sought to fill my soul with knowledge and divine wisdom, until the celestial inspiration descended into my heart — the light of the one and only God, and the call to worship him. I dedicated my life to that, then my rule, when I took the throne — in pursuit of the same goal. Immediately there arose a conflict between my luminous cause and the darknesses of ignorance and tradition, the ambitions of the priests and governors for higher rank and glory, the subjugation of the peasantry and the subjects of the empire. I never once resorted to violence in my holy spiritual struggle — I never approved the use of bloodshed or coercion. For some years, I tasted victory, and well-being spread its wings. But then the clouds of conspiracy and intrigue gathered, and the armies of darkness crept in around us, until they besieged us on all sides. I fell without any strength left, and defeat settled over me. Yet my trust in the final triumph never for a moment wavered. Never had a king known a life as heavenly as mine, nor an end so wretched.”

“Believe what he has said, O Lord,” Nefertiti beseeched Osiris. “We waged the struggle of heroes — until the forces of evil overwhelmed us. The looming tower was brought low, its foundations fallen in.”

The first to comment was the wise Imhotep. “We had always surmised that the power of the one Deity lay behind Amun, Ra, Ptah, and the pantheon of gods,” he said. “But we observed that the people clung to their bodily images, gathering around them in every province to gain strength and solace, so we let things continue as they were. This was a mercy to believing hearts, saving them from oblivion.”

“We found the people lost in error,” rejoined Akhenaten. “The time had come for them to face the Truth, in all its aspects.”

“Handling the people is a difficult art, Your Highness,” answered Ptahhotep. “He who does not master it will find his benevolent impulses frustrated, and will kill what he loves while striving to save it.”

“If it weren’t for those seeking personal interest,” complained Akhenaten, “we could have achieved the salvation of those we love.”

“What did you do with those who opposed you for selfish motives?” asked Abnum.

“I committed myself from the beginning,” answered Akhenaten, “to treat others with kindness, to avoid harm and aggression.”

“Evildoers deserve naught but the club and the sword!” exclaimed Abnum.

“I believed in love for one’s enemies, as well as one’s friends.”

“Your message was lost through your own naivete,” Abnum upbraided him. “The only good man is a warrior!”

“I left for you the greatest empire in history,” added Thutmose III. “How could it have perished when you such had an incomparable army waiting at your command?”

“Love and peace were my ideals,” replied Akhenaten.

“Please go on,” Osiris urged him.

“I preached for the One God, who is the Father and the Mother to all humanity,” Akhenaten continued. “They are all equal under His shelter. I would call for love to replace the sword in the relations between people.”

“No wonder the empire was lost with this kind of thinking,” Thutmose III reproved him. “You must be crazy!”

“I will not permit anyone’s speech to cross the bounds of courtesy,” Osiris rebuked him. “Apologize!”

“I apologize,” Thutmose III replied, “but I also declare my regret that my life was spent in vain!”

“I unified Egypt with the sword,” Menes reminded Akhenaten, “on a hill of skulls. By necessity, the empire was created by the same means. Yet to our misfortune, an enemy called ‘ideas’ inflicted itself upon us, invading us from within — and turned our glory into a laughingstock.”

“Your debate is pointless,” Akhenaten replied dismissively. “The matter, pure and simple, is that I heard the voice of the God. And that this heavenly blessing did not descend on you.”

“Always we were pursued by these same views, both from our enemies and our friends,” remarked Nefertiti. “The world shattered us with its brutality, but today we stand here before a just divinity.”

“Then why did you abandon your husband when the crisis reached its climax?” Hatshepsut confronted her.

“I never doubted him,” Nefertiti answered defiantly. “But I was deluded to think that if I left him, I could save him from being killed.”

“This son was entrusted with a message by which he strove to save mankind,” Isis said to them. “Yet no one was ready either to understand him, or to reach an accord with him — and this was the tragedy. I shall remain proud of him for all eternity.”

“Take your seat, with your wife, among the Immortals,” Osiris told him.

HORUS HAILED the court, “King Smenkhkara, King Tutankhamun, and King Aya.”

Thoth, the Sacred Recorder, read aloud, “Smenkhkara ruled for four years, Tutankhamun for six years, and Aya for four years. Their reigns were times of disturbance and corruption. None of them was capable of confronting the crisis.”

Osiris asked them to speak.

“I began my rule as coregent with Tutankhamun,” responded Smenkhkara, “but I was not able to restore the throne’s prestige.”

“Real authority lay with the priests of Amun,” said Tutankhamun.

“And the influence of the priests increased in my time,” admitted Aya. “I was weakened by age, and failed to achieve reform.”

“How could you repudiate me,” Akhenaten grilled Aya, “when you were the closest person to me, and I was your wife’s father?”

“I renounced you to avoid civil war in our country,” answered Aya.

“You were unfaithful to the One True God after you had proclaimed your belief in Him right in front of me.”

“My three sons were not suited for the throne,” Isis asserted. “Without the blind law of hereditary succession, not one of them would have sat on it, yet they deserve mercy, just the same.”