The Herder Prince
Part I
And it came to pass
…I
“
The older man watched the effect of his words. Words became thoughts, he knew. Words dropped into men’s minds were like pebbles dropped into a pool. One could almost observe the mind’s ripples. Amenhoteph, High Priest of Ra, second most powerful man in all the Black Land of Egypt, had a way with words. After all, moulding the minds of men was his trade.
“But if Pharaoh Khaneferre should discover who is behind this?”
“Khaneferre is pragmatic. He will do what is best for Egypt – that is his care, his sacred burden. Nothing stands in the way, whatever his personal feelings. As in all other… shall we say…unpleasant matters I have had to deal with on his behalf; he will turn a blind eye, feigning ignorance. Khaneferre is a past master at subterfuge. Oh no, do not worry about Khaneferre.”
“But what of the other temples? The priests of Toth intrigue against us and support this Contender. You know that the Princess Royal, Bithia, is titular High Priestess of Isis and as such she is powerful. It is rumoured that she has taken the successor to the High Priest of Osiris as her lover. These are enormous forces gathered against us.”
Amenhoteph watched a white heron settle gracefully on the slow-flowing Nile. He had ruminate every single argument over recent months; moving argument and counter-argument around like pieces on a board game; sorting through ‘what ifs’ and possibilities. As High Priest of Ra part of his duties was to run a well-paid spy network, both locally and abroad. He had spies in every court, under every throne throughout the known world. No ruler, be he Yantin-annu of Byblos, Zimrilim of Mahri or even the mighty King of Babylonia, could sneeze without Amenhoteph being informed of it. The temples and court of Egypt were the training grounds for his novices.
Amenhoteph sighed wearily. Kofu was not just young; he was a little dense. As his nephew Kofu would be the next High Priest of Ra since his own son Cheops, had died. What a loss; not just to him as a father but to the Temple of Ra and to all of Egypt. Now there was a young man! A brilliant scholar, Cheops had an immediate understanding of the times, situation and implications. Ruthless! Oh, what a High Priest he would have made. If only Cheops had survived, it would not have mattered which prince became pharaoh; he would have been able to sway either. But with Kufo as his successor this choice became critical. Not for the first time Amenhoteph mourned the loss of his only son.
“Yes, those gathered against us are powerful. All the more reason we should set the process in motion immediately; all the more reason we should proceed with the utmost stealth, and choose the best people. People who can’t be traced back to us… should they fail.”
“What about Princess Bithia? She will fight back. She will know we are behind this strategy. As the daughter and sister of a pharaoh she has great influence. As the mother of the commander of Egypt’s army she wields enormous power; she will not surrender that willingly.”
“Exactly, Kufo. Bithia is our most important enemy. We don’t just fight the Contender; we fight Pharaoh’s own sister, Princess of Egypt; one who would rule through her son. For that very reason we have to be even more cautious. You know how matters stand between Bithia and me. She has always been my bitter foe, ever since I prevented her from marrying the king of Babylonia. Bithia was born to rule. She has the blood of many pharaohs in her veins and might even have made a better ruler than Khaneferre. She is more intelligent, more disciplined and what is more, she has great patience and a better understanding of statecraft than all the pharaohs I have served. Oh yes, she would have made a formidable pharaoh. But as a woman all she can do is intrigue - she is bitter, frustrated and deadly.”
“And if we… lose?” Kufo’s words hung in the hot desert air like a falcon about to stoop.
“If we lose, my dear Nephew, it will mean the end of the rule of Ra’s priesthood. It will usher in the era of the Priesthood of Osiris, with the Priestesses of Isis acting as the power behind the throne. It will catapult Egypt into civil war, tearing it into two separate kingdoms – as it was before Khaneferre ascended the throne. Every country in the known world will swoop down upon the Black Land of the Nile to feed on the carcass like vultures. Not to mention that it will mean the end of our house, the entire family of Amenhoteph, not just of you and me.”
“But will the people believe such a lie?”
“The people believe what they want to believe. Take the slaves, for instance. They have been waiting for centuries for a…Deliverer. They don’t realise that if they just had a strong leader, organized themselves and conspired with our enemies, they could have long since delivered themselves. This bondage they have willingly placed themselves under, fostered by their own priesthood, has very much served our purpose. That is why I do not suppress it. If a Deliverer should arise, it is always easier to kill one man than many – ¬¬¬ even at the risk of creating a martyr. Cut off the head and the body is ineffective. Oh yes, they will believe it.”
“And the Egyptians?”
“They believe what we tell them to believe. We hold the Egyptians in religious bondage as much as the Levites hold Abraham’s children. Have you never noticed how, in times of trouble, people flock to the temples? They might be a little lax regarding their sacrifices and offerings, their praise, worship and obedience in times of abundance but at the first sign of trouble they are down here on their knees, grovelling in the dust for the gods’ intervention, for succour – begging to be punished so that they can be forgiven. As penitents, riddled with guilt, they bring in ten times the sacrifices and offerings they neglected in good times. Religion is a far more effective way of controlling people than any army. People control themselves by their own superstitions, their own fears and their own hopes. We don’t really have to do anything, they do it all for us. So – no army, no bloodshed, no loss of lives or goods; more effective, eh?”
Amenhoteph’s lips curled into a thin sneer.
“A ruler can only kill the body, the gods can damn the soul to the Underworld’s darkness for all eternity. Who do you think possesses the greater power – the mightiest pharaoh or the lowliest priest?”
“What about Prince Djedneferre?”
“Unlike our other young prince, Djedneferre is biddable. He should be encouraged to concentrate on those talents he has mastered so well – hunting, hawking, dancing, carousing with his concubines, board games, barging down the Nile and all other occupations that become a man of his status, and leave the tedious duties of governing the country to his willing and well-trained priests.”
“Djedneferre is no fool,” Kufo retorted.
“I never said he was. But he is young and has never had to cope with the burdens of ruling. He lacks his cousin’s discipline. I saw that when I had the training of them both as youths. He had little interest in the deeper levels of the Mysteries, lacked concentration, was impatient and never understood the necessity of learning how to bend peoples’ minds. He will make a very autocratic ruler, not a leader, lacking the ability to think matters through to their logical conclusion, not checking all the consequences of his actions and for that very reason he will have to rely very heavily in his counsellors.”
“What about the army?” Kufo asked.
“Ever soldier swears an oath of allegiance to the pharaoh the day he enters the army, not to his general,” Amenhoteph pointed out.
“The rank and file, maybe. But the officers honour their generals and are loyal to the Supreme Commander. There are many who owe him their lives, not just their rank and privileges. That could prove dangerous,” Kufo murmured.
“We will have to differentiate between those who can be bought with money and privilege, those who can be influenced by… persuasion, those who can be coerced by blackmail and… those who cannot. This last group will have to be eliminated. I have already chosen the next Supreme Commander. It is just a matter of training him properly and installing him when the time comes,” Amenhoteph said in a confidential tone.
“And who is the next Supreme Commander, if I may be so bold?” Kufo asked.
“Tahira, the eldest son of my favourite concubine,” Amenhoteph returned.
“Admirable; an excellent choice and one that will give us control of the army. Will Great Khaneferre and Prince Djedneferre accept him?” Kufo asked.
“Khaneferre appointed Tahira as Commander of the Chariotry, in spite of the discord it caused. He knows the wisdom of weighting both scales. Tahira knows he is neither liked nor trusted by his fellow officers or his Supreme Commander, which makes him all the more useful to us, apart from family ties. Tahira is an able commander who has proved his worth and valour on the battlefield, even if he is not a brilliant general. Djedneferre wouldn’t care one way or the other as long as he does not have to do the fighting and dying.”
“So; how will we set the process in motion?” Kufo seemed a little less hesitant now.
Amenhoteph stared out of the temple portico, over the vast expanse of desert beyond the reed-lined lakes surrounding Avaris, capital of Lower Egypt. The midday heat caused the distant dunes to shimmer like a mirage. Only here, close to the ancient river, was there life, verdure and commerce. The Nile was the Giver of Life. How he longed to take a barge and drift down the Nile, leaving all these petty details behind, all the cares of this kingdom, all these burdens. In a way he envied Crown Prince Djedneferre’s ignorance of kingship, statecraft and…anything.
Turning around he faced his nephew.
“We will start with Nefriteri, the woman who will marry the next pharaoh and the one person old Khaneferre really cares for. Her softly spoken doubts in Khaneferre’s ear will be a powerful tool, perhaps the very thing that tips the scales. We will sow doubt and suspicion in the very heart of the royal family. Bithia has charmed Nefriteri to accept her son as the next pharaoh and we need to counter that,” Amenhoteph said.
“Perhaps Memnet can help us?” suggested Kufo. “She wet-nursed Djedneferre and now serves Nefriteri as her Slave of the Bath. Memnet overheard certain … secrets… but Bithia once caught her sacrificing a baby to the goddess Heqt and has been blackmailing her ever since. Unable to forgive, Memnet hates Bithia with a passion and asked me to curse her. Shall I bring her to you?”
“No, Kufo. I entrust this enterprise to you. No one must ever be able to point a finger at me. To implicate me is to implicate the Pharaoh. You must see to it that Memnet pours our poison into Nefriteri’s ear. Memnet delights in gossip and fortunately for us already has an axe to grind against Bithia.”
“Yes, Uncle. I will see to it myself.”
Amenhoteph wondered if he would. One nephew was as useful or expendable as another. If Kufo failed, he had two brothers, both a little brighter than Kufo. But time now was of the essence.
“I want you to select five others besides Memnet, five whom we can also use to spread these rumours. Choose your candidates with care; they must be able to work independently from us, and each other. You must be able to lay our… facts… before them, certain that they will take the right course of action. If they support our opposition it will make the story much more plausible. Rumours have a way of growing and gathering momentum, all we need do is set them in motion.”
“And what about him? What about Prince Moses?” Kufo asked at last.
“Moses? Moses is the stuff heroes are made of. He has all the qualities needed for a Deliverer, a true martyr. He might even come to believe the story himself.”
Amenhoteph put his arm around Kufo’s thin shoulders, shepherding him gently but firmly out of the door. He had done as much as he could to allay Kufo’s fears, answer his questions, and offer suggestions. If he did not put an end to this interview, the younger man would spend the entire day expressing his doubts. Action was called for now, action would dispel these doubts. No one could act and still doubt.
Watching Kufo walk down the temple corridor to his quarters, Amenhoteph sighed and shook his head. Much had to be accomplished before he handed over the reins to his successor – whoever that might be. Suddenly he felt very old and tired.
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