Before the Throne

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.”