The Egyptian

2

When Horemheb had returned to Memphis, his words remained with me, haunting me, and I blamed myself for being a bad friend to him and a bad counselor to Pharaoh. Yet my couch was soft beneath its canopy, my cooks served me little birds dressed with honey, there was no lack of antelope roasts, and the water ran quickly from my clock.

The second of Pharaoh’s daughters, Meketaton, was seized by a wasting sickness; her little cheeks glowed with fever and her collarbones began to show through the skin. I sought to strengthen her with tonics, giving her a solution of gold to drink, and I bewailed my fate that no sooner had Pharaoh’s attacks ceased than his daughter must fall ill so that I had no peace by night or day. Pharaoh also grew uneasy, for he loved his daughters dearly. The two eldest, Meritaton and Meketaton, accompanied him to his balcony on audience days and threw down golden chains and other tokens to those whom Pharaoh desired to honor.

As is the way of men, Pharaoh grew fonder of this ailing daughter than of the other three. He gave her balls of ivory and silver, and a little dog that followed her everywhere and slept at the foot of her bed. He grew thin and lost sleep because of his anxiety, rising several times each night to listen to the child’s breathing; every cough of hers tore at his heart.

In the same way also this little girl meant more to me than my property in Thebes, or Kaptah, or the year of famine, or all the people then starving and dying in Syria on Aton’s account. I lavished on her my utmost care and skill, neglecting my other distinguished patients, who were suffering from gluttony and boredom and above all from headaches since this was Pharaoh’s complaint. By humoring their headaches I had acquired much gold, but I was weary of gold and groveling.

I was often so curt with my patients that they said, “His dignity as physician to the household has gone to his head! Because he fancies that Pharaoh listens to him, he ignores what others have to say.”

Yet when I thought of Thebes and Kaptah and the Crocodile’s Tail, I was filled with melancholy, and my heart was hungry with a hunger I could not assuage. I was growing bald beneath my wig and there were days when, forgetting my duties, I dreamed daydreams and walked the Babylonian roads again with my nostrils full of the smell of dried grain on earthen threshing floors. I noticed that I had put on weight and that my sleep was heavy and that I needed a carrying chair because even a short walk left me breathless, although formerly the longest distances could never so affect me.

But when autumn came again and the river rose and the swallows emerged from the slime of the river bed to dart restlessly in the air above, the health of Pharaoh’s daughter mended. She smiled and no longer felt the pains in her chest. My heart followed the swallows in their flight, and with Pharaoh’s leave I boarded a ship for Thebes. He bade me greet on his behalf all the river-side settlers among whom he had divided the land of the false god, and he sent greetings also to the schools he had founded and hoped to hear good tidings of them on my return.

I touched at many villages and summoned the elders to talk with me. The journey was more comfortable than I had hoped, for Pharaoh’s pennant fluttered at the masthead, my bed was soft, and there were no flies on the river. My cook followed me in the kitchen boat, and gifts were brought to him from all the villages so that I had no lack of fresh food. But when the settlers visited me, I saw that they were mere skeletons, their wives stared about them with terrified eyes, afraid of every sound, and the children were sickly and bowlegged. These people showed me their corn bins, which were less than half full, and the grain in them was speckled red as if it had been exposed to a shower of blood.

They said to me, “At first we thought that our failures were the result of ignorance since we had never tilled the soil before. We know now that the land Pharaoh divided among us is accursed, and he who cultivates it is accursed also. At night, unseen feet trample down our crops; unseen hands break the fruit trees we have planted. Our cattle perish without cause, our irrigation ditches are stopped up, and we find carrion in our wells so that even drinking water is lacking. Many have abandoned their land and returned to the towns poorer than they were before, reviling the name of Pharaoh and his god. But we have persevered, trusting to the magic cross and the letters Pharaoh has sent us. We hang these out on stakes in our fields as a protection against locusts. But Ammon’s magic is more powerful than the magic of Pharaoh. Our faith is failing us, and we mean to leave this noisome land before we all die as the wives and children of many have already done.”

I also visited their schools, and when the teachers saw the cross of Aton on my clothes, they hid their canes and made the sign of Aton, while the children sat cross legged on the threshing floors staring at me so fixedly that they neglected to wipe their noses.

The teachers said, “We know that there is no greater madness than the notion that every child should learn to read and write, but what would we not do for Pharaoh, whom we love and who is our father and our mother and whom we venerate as the son of his god? But we are learned men and it ill befits our dignity to sit on threshing floors, to wipe the noses of grimy children and draw ugly signs in the sand-for we have no tablets or reed pens-moreover these new characters can never reproduce all the wisdom and knowledge that, with great trouble and cost, we have acquired. Our salaries are irregularly paid, and the parents reward us very meagerly; their beer is weak and sour, and the oil in our jars is rancid. Yet we persist, to demonstrate to Pharaoh that it is impossible to teach all children to read and write, for only the best pupils whose heads are soft and receptive can learn.”

I tested their proficiency, with which I was far from satisfied. Still less pleased was I by their swollen faces and unsteady gaze, for these teachers were broken-down scribes to whom no one would give employment. They had accepted the cross of Aton for the sake of their livelihood.

The settlers and elders of the villages swore bitterly in the name of Aton and said, “Lord Sinuhe, speak for us to Pharaoh, and beg him at least to lift from us the burden of these schools, or we cannot long survive. Our boys come home black and blue from the beatings, and with torn locks, and these terrible teachers are insatiable as crocodiles. They eat us out of house and home, they extort our last coppers from us and the hides of our cattle to buy themselves wine. When we are out in the fields, they enter our houses and take pleasure with our wives, saying that this is the will of Aton in whose sight there is no difference between man and man or between woman and woman. Truly we desired no change in our lives, for if indeed we were poor in the cities, yet we were happy also. Here we see nothing but muddy ditches and lowing cattle. They were right who warned us, saying, ‘Beware of change: among the poor it must always be for the worse. Whatever changes are made in the world, be assured that with them the grain measure of the poor must dwindle and the oil sink in their jars.’“

My heart told me that they were right in what they said, and I would not dispute it but continued on my journey. I was filled with sadness on Pharaoh’s account and I marveled that all he touched he blighted so that the diligent grew lazy because of his gifts and only the worthless clustered about Aton like flies on a carcass. Then my heart was seized with a terrible suspicion: What if Pharaoh and the noble idlers about his court-even I myself during the past few years-were no more than parasites, vermin, fleas in a dog’s coat? The flea may fancy that the dog exists solely for the benefit of fleas and for their nourishment. Pharaoh and his god might be such fleas, giving much vexation and doing no good whatever since dogs are all the better for being free of vermin.

Thus my heart awoke after its long sleep, and it spurned the city of Akhetaton. I looked about me with fresh eyes, and nothing that I saw was good. But in this my eyes may have been distorted by the magic of Ammon, who in hidden ways governed the whole of Egypt, the City of the Heavens being the only place in the land over which he had no control. Where truth lay I cannot say, for although there are those who think always in the same manner and draw in their heads like tortoises at the hint of any new thing, yet my thoughts have ever been modified by what I have seen and heard. Many things have therefore influenced my thinking even when I have not understood them well.

I saw once more the three hills on the horizon, the eternal guardians of Thebes. The roof of the temple and its walls rose before my eyes, but the tips of the obelisks no longer blazed in the sunshine, for their gilding had never been renewed. Yet the sight of them was refreshment to my heart, and I poured wine into the waters of the Nile as seamen do who return after a long voyage-though their libation is of beer since they prefer to keep their wine, if any, for themselves. I saw again the great stone wharves of Thebes and caught the harbor smell: the smell of rotting grain and foul water, of spices and herbs and pitch.

When in the poor quarter I beheld the house that had been the copperfounder’s, it appeared to me exceedingly cramped and narrow, and the alley before it filthy, full of flies and stench. Nor did the sycamore in the court delight me although I had planted it myself and it had grown tall in my absence, so spoiled was I by the wealth and abundance of Akhetaton. I was sorrowful and ashamed because I could not rejoice over my home.

Kaptah was not there, but only my cook Muti, who exclaimed bitterly, “Blessed be the day that brings my lord home, but the rooms are not cleaned and the linen is in the wash and your arrival causes me much trouble and vexation, although I expect but little happiness from life in general. Yet I am not at all astonished at your sudden coming, for that is the way of men from whom nothing good is to be expected.”

I pacified her, telling her that I would sleep on board that night. Having asked for Kaptah I left her and was carried to the Crocodile’s Tail. Merit met me at the door and did not recognize me because of my fine clothes and my chair.

She said, “Have you reserved your place here for this evening? For if not I cannot allow you to enter.”

She had grown somewhat plumper, and her cheekbones were less sharp, but her eyes were the same save for a few lines about them.

My heart was warmed and laying my hand on her loins I said, “I can understand that you have forgotten me, for many must be the lonely, sorrowful men you have warmed on your mat-nevertheless I fancied I might find a seat in your house and a cup of chilled wine, even if I do not presume to think of that same mat.”

She cried out in astonishment, “Sinuhe, is it you? Blessed be the day that brings my lord home!”

She laid her strong, lovely hands on my shoulders and, scanning my face narrowly, went on, “Sinuhe, what have you been doing? If your solitude was once that of a lion, it is now that of a lapdog, and you are on a leash.” She took off my wig, stroked my bald head kindly, and went on. “Sit then, Sinuhe, and I will bring you chilled wine, for you are sweating and out of breath from your wearisome journey.”

I said anxiously, “On no account bring me a crocodile’s tail, for my stomach is no longer equal to that-to say nothing of my head.”

Stroking my knee, she mocked me, saying, “Am I already so old and fat and ugly that when you meet me for the first time for years you think only of your stomach? And you were never wont to fear headaches in my company-indeed, so eager were you for those crocodiles’ tails that I had to restrain you.”

I was abashed at her words, for she spoke the truth, and truth has often this effect.

So I answered her, “Oh, Merit my friend-I am already old, and finished.”

But she retorted, “So you fancy, but your eyes when you look at me are far from old, and I am glad of this.”

“Merit, for the sake of our friendship, make haste to bring me a crocodile’s tail lest I become outrageous in my manner toward you, which would ill become my dignity as skull surgeon to the household, especially in a harbor tavern.”

She brought me the drink in a shell and set it on my palm. The drink burned my throat, which was accustomed to mellow wines, yet the burning was sweet to me for my other hand rested upon her flank.

“Merit,” I said, “you once told me that a lie may be sweeter than the truth to one who is alone and whose first spring is over. And so I tell you that my heart still flowers and is young at the sight of you; long are the years that have severed us, and not one day of them has passed but I have whispered your name to the wind; I have sent my greeting to you with the swallows as they flew upstream, and every morning I have awakened with your name on my lips.”

She looked at me, and in my sight she was slender still, and beautiful. In the depths of her eyes was a glint of smiles and sorrow, as in the waters of a deep well. She stroked my cheek with her hand and said, “You speak beautifully, Sinuhe-why should I not also confess that my heart has yearned for you and my hands have sought yours when at night I have lain alone upon my mat? Whenever by reason of the crocodile’s tail some man has talked nonsense to me, I remembered you with sadness. But in Pharaoh’s golden house there must be many fair women, and no doubt as a physician you have used your leisure hours conscientiously on their behalf.”

It is true that I had taken pleasure with some of the court ladies who in their boredom came to ask my professional advice. Their skin was smooth as fruit and soft as down, and in winter especially it was warmer to lie two in a bed than singly. But it was trivial and I have not troubled to record it in my book. I replied, “Merit, if I have not always slept alone, it is true that you are the only woman who is my friend.”

The crocodile’s tail worked within me. My body was growing as young as my heart, and a sweet fire ran through my veins as I said, “Doubtless many men have shared your mat during this time, but you would do well to warn them of me as long as I remain in Thebes, for when roused I am a violent man! When I fought against the Khabiri, the soldiers of Horemheb named me the Son of the Wild Ass.”

She raised her hands in mock terror and said, “That is what I have so greatly dreaded, for Kaptah has told me of many wild skirmishes and brawls into which you were led by your fiery nature and from which you were rescued only through his fidelity and resolution.”

When I heard Kaptah’s name and guessed at all the shameless lies he must have told her of myself and my life in foreign lands, my heart melted within me, and tears streamed from my eyes as I cried, “Where is Kaptah, my former slave and servant, that I may embrace him? For my heart has missed him sorely, unbecoming though it be in me to speak thus of a slave.”

Merit strove to silence me.

“Truly I see that you are unaccustomed to crocodiles’ tails and my father is looking wrathfully in our direction because of your noise. You will not see Kaptah before evening, for his time is taken up with important business at the corn exchange and in the taverns. You will be astounded when you meet him, for he hardly remembers that he was once a slave and carried your sandals on a stick across his shoulders. I will take you out for a breath of cool air before he comes. You will doubtless wish to see how Thebes has changed since you were here, and in this way we can be alone.”

She went to change her dress and anoint her face and adorn herself with gold and silver. Only by her hands and feet could she have been distinguished from a lady of the aristocracy, though perhaps few ladies had so clear and steady a glance as hers or so proud a mouth. I bade the slaves carry us along the Avenue of Rams, and we sat close together in the chair so that I breathed the scent of her ointments, which was the scent of Thebes, more pungent and intoxicating than all the rare cosmetics of Akhetaton. I held her hand in mine, and there was not one evil thought left in my heart. After a long journey I had come home.

We approached the temple, where black birds circled and squawked above the emptiness, for they had never returned to their hills but settled within the precincts. This was accursed ground and repugnant to the people. We stepped from the chair and wandered through the deserted forecourts; the only folk we saw were those about the Houses of Life and of Death. To move these institutions would have been too costly and troublesome a business. Merit told me that people avoided the House of Life also, for which reason most of the physicians had moved into the city itself to carry on their profession. We walked in the temple garden, but grass overgrew the paths, and its trees had been felled and stolen. The only people we encountered in the gardens which Pharaoh had turned into a public park and playground were one or two dirty, skulking vagabonds who gave us sidelong looks.

Merit said, “You chill my heart in bringing me to this evil place. Doubtless, the cross of Aton will protect us though I would prefer you to remove it from your collar since because of it you might be stoned. Hatred is still rife in Thebes.”

She spoke truly. When we had come back to the open place before the temple, the people spat on the ground when they saw my cross. I was astonished to observe one of the priests of Ammon walking boldly among the crowd with his head shaven, despite Pharaoh’s order, and arrayed in white. His face gleamed, his robe was of the finest linen, and he seemed to have suffered no hardship. The people made way for him with veneration. Prudence bade me keep one hand on my breast to hide the cross of Aton, for I was loath to be the cause of needless uproar.

We paused by the wall where a storyteller sat on his mat with an empty bowl before him. His audience stood in a ring, and the poorest among them sat on the ground, having no need to consider their clothes. The story he was telling I had never heard before, for he spoke of a false Pharaoh who had lived many, many years ago and whose mother was a black witch. By the will of Set, this witch won the love of the good Pharaoh and gave birth to the false one, who sought the ruin of the Egyptian people and would have bound them in slavery to Nubians and savages. He overthrew the statues of Ra so that Ra cursed the land, which became barren. The people were drowned by mighty floods, locusts devoured the standing crops, and pools were transformed into foul-smelling blood. But the days of the false Pharaoh were numbered, for the power of Ra was greater than that of Set. The false Pharaoh died a miserable death, as did also the witch his mother, and Ra struck down all those who had denied him, and he divided their houses and goods and land among those who had remained steadfast to him throughout these trials and believed in his return.

This tale was very long and very exciting, and the people shuffled their feet and raised their hands in impatience to hear what the con- elusion might be. My mouth also hung open as I listened. When the story was ended and the false Pharaoh received his punishment and was hurled into the bottomless pit-when his name had been cursed and Ra had rewarded his faithful-then the listeners leaped and cried out in their delight and threw coppers into the storyteller’s bowl.

I was greatly puzzled and said to Merit, “This is a new tale, which I have never heard before, although I fancied I had learnt them all as a child since my mother Kipa was passionately fond of them and favored the storytellers highly-to such a degree that my father Senmut would sometimes menace them with his stick when she fed them in our kitchen. Yes, this is a new story. Were it not impossible, I should say that it concerns Pharaoh Akhnaton and the false god whose name we dare not speak aloud. This tale should be forbidden!”

Merit smiled.

“Who can forbid a story? This one is told in both Kingdoms, at every gateway and beneath every wall in the smallest villages, and the people love it. When the guards threaten the storytellers, these maintain that the tale is an ancient one-and they can prove it, for the priests have found it in writings that are centuries old. Therefore the guards cannot prevent it although I have heard that Horemheb, who is a stern man and cares nothing for proofs and writings, has had a few storytellers hung from the walls and has thrown their bodies to the crocodiles.”

Merit held my hand and smiled as she continued, “Many prophecies are spoken of in Thebes. Whenever two. men meet, they tell one another of the prophecies they have heard, and of ill omens. As you know the grain stocks are dwindling, the poor people starve, and taxes lie heavily upon rich and poor. Worse things are foretold, and I tremble when I think of all the evil with which these prophecies threaten us.”

I withdrew my hand from hers, and my heart also. The crocodile’s tail had long cleared from my head, which now ached. My spirits drooped, and her dull stubbornness did nothing to cheer me. So we returned sulkily to the tavern, and I knew that what Pharaoh Akhnaton had said was true: “Aton shall separate the child from its mother and the man from the sister of his heart until his kingdom is established upon earth.” But I had no wish to be separated from Merit because of Aton, and so I remained in an exceedingly ill humor until the evening I saw Kaptah.