Dialogue between Hotep and Huy during the Plague of Darkness

From the characters in The Prince of Egypt (1998)

Kaiser Augustus
Jul 22, 2017 · 4 min read

All of Egypt was engulfed in darkness. Fires would not burn in all the land. There was silence, for people feared even to speak, and the stillness was only broken by a shriek or a calling out of a name, for one lost, perhaps never to be found.

The Pharaoh’s high priests, Hotep and Huy, sit in their chamber, rubbing themselves with oil. Before the darkness, there was the gnats, and the boils, and the hail. Their skin, once smooth from the lack of work, from the indulgence in their lavish life, were now pocked, scarred, and marked by the recent events, supposedly because the of the wrath of the Hebrew God.

But they knew this couldn’t be the case, not because they believed in the Egyptian Gods, as the Pharaoh insisted, but because they knew there were no Gods…

And from this knowledge they derived their power.

“I can’t believe this…” said Hotep. “I can’t believe this at all. God. People will believe anything… Especially slaves…”

Huy lathered his thigh with oil and said, “Tells you something that the slaves believe it more than our people.”

“I’ve asked about this God of the slaves, you know,” said Hotep, who had laid down on his bed. The darkness was so pervasive that it was almost indistinguishable from having his eyes closed. “He is a wrathful God, a jealous God. And there’s only one.” He took the match he had placed behind his bed and struck one.

Not even sparks.

“Only one God?” said Huy, with a bit of a laugh. “Does he guard the chamber pot as well as the kitchen? I’d be wary of that God… Especially if he doesn’t clean his hands…”

“Well,” said Hotep. “The god is supposed to be all-powerful, you see.”

“That’s interesting…” said Huy. “But rather boring… Their priests must do a lot of work trying to make that sound appealing… Why does the sun rise? Oh, God. Why is there evil? Oh, God. What happens when we die? Oh, God. For goodness sake, give them some variety…!”

“Some passion! Some savagery! Like Horus and Set wrangling for the throne! Anubis weighing your heart after death against a feather — I’ve always thought that was a bit of genius, don’t you? Weighing a heart against a father? The poetry!”

Hotep had always enjoyed the poetry of the myths, although personally he never believed in them: That is the secret of the priests, the first secret that is revealed to them when they are initiated. None of it is true.

Thus, they are given the power over something most people would not dare touch: The sacred stories that order their lives, that grant them the divine maat — balance, harmony, law, the very conditions of Being.

It is not what the myths say that brings the maat, but that the myths are told at all…

None of it is true — until through their myths their words become the truth.

“You can’t expect slaves to have any sense of poetry, honestly…” said Huy. “All they know is there is this thing that is powerful, and it must do everything, just like that! A powerful thing, that’s all God is reduced to… Handing out plagues… Turning out the lights…”

“So why is this happening, then, you think?” asked Hotep.

“I don’t know,” said Huy. “I don’t care.”

“Me neither.” Hotep yawned. “But we’ll have to make something up either way, or that fool the Pharaoh won’t stop talking about it. He may even believe the Hebrews… He might let them go, if he’s persuaded by enough coincidences.”

“It is our job to make sense of these coincidences,” echoed Huy. “It is our job to make the coincidences disappear… and in their place… maat, where it never was before. Sometimes I do think we’re magicians, Hotep, I really do. With the power of speech we can do so much…”

“God forbid you base your self-worth on your tongue, Huy.” Hotep guffawed again. “Everyone has one.”

“But how many,” said Huy, his voice sweet with irony, “can use their tongues like we do? Our whims may not make the sun rise in the morning, but we make the Pharaoh think his whims do… And I say that’s better than magic.”

Hotep yawned. The darkness was making him drowsy. “God of the Hebrews.” He laughed again at the thought. “Slaves will believe anything…”

Huy yawned as well, spurred by his companion. “What if a worse plague visits us tomorrow?”

“There are ten fingers,” said Hotep. “And ten plagues. How perfect.” The bed rustled as he turned to sleep. “All the better to make a story with.”

“Knowing you, you’d want it to be something dramatic, don’t you?”

“Extravagant… Deadly…”

“Oh, Hotep, you are naughty…”

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