Then that old priest rose who had been my guide in the Sanctuary of the Mother and made answer: “There is none; O Amenemhat; I know these things of my own knowledge.”
Once more my father spoke: “Is there any among you who has aught to urge against this royal Harmachis, in that by wickedness of heart or life, by uncleanliness or falsity, it is not fit or meet that we should crown him Lord of all the Lands?”
Then an aged Prince of Memphis arose and made answer:
“We have inquired of these matters: there is none, O Amenemhat.”
“It is well,” said my father; “then naught is wanting in the Prince Harmachis, seed of Nekt-nebf, the Osirian. Let the woman Atoua stand forth and tell this company those things that came to pass when, at the hour of her death, she who was my wife prophesied over this Prince, being filled with the Spirit of the Hathors.”
Thereon old Atoua crept forward from the shadow of the columns, and earnestly told those things that have been written.
“Ye have heard,” said my father: “do you believe that the woman who was my wife spake with the Divine voice?”
“We do,” they answered.
Now my uncle Sepa rose and spoke:
“Royal Harmachis, thou hast heard. Know now that we are gathered here to crown thee King of the Upper and the Lower Lands—thy holy father, Amenemhat, renouncing all his right on thy behalf. We are met, not, indeed, in that pomp and ceremony which is due to the occasion—for what we do must be done in secret, lest our lives, and the cause that is more dear to us than life, should pay the forfeit—but yet with such dignity and observance of the ancient rites as our circumstance may command. Learn, now, how this matter hangs, and if, after learning, thy mind consents thereto, then mount thy throne, O Pharaoh—and swear the oath!