The Egyptian

3

Now that I was free of the woman my heart was as light as a bird. My eyes longed to see new things, and I was filled with resdessness and a desire to be out of Smyrna. Spring had come again. The earth was fresh and green; leaves budded on the trees; there was a cooing of doves and frogs croaked in the pools. In the harbor ships were being fitted out for long voyages. With the spring also came word that the Khabiri had swarmed in from the desert and were ravaging the Syrian borders from the south to the north, burning villages and besieging cities. But Pharaoh’s armies came too, through the desert of Sinai from Tanis, and were giving battle to the Khabiri. They captured the chiefs and drove the enemy back into the desert. It happened every spring and had always happened. This time, however, the citizens of Smyrna were uneasy, for the city of Katna, garrisoned by Egyptian troops, had been plundered, the king slain, and all the Egyptians put to the sword without mercy shown to women or children and without any prisoners being taken and held for ransom. Such a thing had not been known within living memory, for the Khabiri were wont to avoid the fortified towns.

War had broken out in Syria, and I had never seen war. I set forth to join Pharaoh’s forces and see whether it held some hidden truth for me and also to study the wounds inflicted by war clubs and other weapons. But above all I went because the commander of the troops was Horemheb, and in my loneliness I longed to see again the face of a friend and hear his voice. Having taken ship along the coast, I made my way inland with the supply column, among the ox-drawn sleds of grain and the donkeys laden with jars of oil and wine and sacks of onions. We came to a small city set on a hill and girdled by a wall; the name of it was Jerusalem. A small Egyptian garrison was stationed here, and here also Horemheb had set up his headquarters. But the rumors that had reached Smyrna greatly exaggerated the size of his force, which comprised but one squadron of chariots and a couple of thousand archers and spearmen, while the Khabiri hordes were said to be as the sands of the desert.

Horemheb received me in a dirty mud hut, with the words, “I knew a Sinuhe once. He, too, was a doctor and my friend.”

He surveyed me, puzzled by the Syrian cloak I had taken to wearing. Like him I had aged, and my face had altered, but he knew me again and laughed, raising his gold-braided whip of office in salute.

“By Ammon, it is Sinuhe! I thought you were dead.” He drove out his staff officers and the scribes with their maps and papers and ordered in wine. “Marvelous are the ways of Ammon that we should meet again here in the Red Land, in this filthy, miserable town.”

At his words my heart stirred in my breast, and I knew that I had missed him. I told him as much as I thought fit of my life and adventures, and he said, “Come with us and share the honors of war! I mean to give these lousy Khabiri such a scalding that they will never forget me and will curse the day they were born. I was a green enough lad when we first met; you were a man of the world and gave me good counsel. I have learned-I have learned-and I carry a golden whip in my hand, as you see. But I won it by degrading service in Pharaoh’s bodyguard, rounding up the robbers and convicts whom in his madness he had freed from the mines. Trouble enough they gave us before they were all destroyed.

“When I heard that the Khabiri were attacking, I asked Pharaoh to give me troops to repel them. No other senior officer cared to compete with me for command, for wealth and honors shower down more profusely in Pharaoh’s neighborhood than they do in the desert-moreover, the Khabiri have sharp spears and their war cries are most horrible, as I have good reason to know. But at last I was able to gain experience and exercise my troops in real battle. However, Pharaoh’s one concern is that I should build a temple here in Jerusalem to his new god and drive out the Khabiri without bloodshed!”

Horemheb burst out laughing and slapped his leg with his whip, and I laughed with him. Then he fell silent, and after another pull at the wine he went on:

“To be frank, Sinuhe, I have changed somewhat since we last met, as a man must who lives in Pharaoh’s presence, whether he will or no. He disturbs me, for he thinks deeply-and talks-about his god, who differs from all other gods. I used often to feel as if a swarm of ants were loose in my brain. I could not sleep at night without wine and a woman to clear my head, so strange is this divinity of his. The god is without form though he is everywhere at once; his image is a circle and has hands, with which he blesses all that he has made; and slave and lord are equal in his sight. Tell me, Sinuhe, is this not the raving of a sick man? I can only think that he was bitten by a rabid ape when he was small-for who but a madman could fancy the Khabiri may be routed without bloodshed?”

He drank again.

“Horus is my god, and I have nothing against Ammon, either. But I can see that Ammon has grown too powerful, and the new god has set himself up in opposition to strengthen Pharaoh’s sovereignty. That is what the Queen Mother herself said to me, and it was echoed by Eie, the priest who now carries the crook upon the King’s right hand. With the help of Aton they intend to overthrow Ammon or at least to limit his power, for it is not fitting that Ammon’s priests should rule Egypt over the head of Pharaoh. That is sound statesmanship, and as a warrior I can well understand that a new god is indispensable. If Pharaoh were content merely to raise temples to him and fee priests into his service, I should have nothing to complain of. But Pharaoh thinks and talks too much about him. Whatever the occasion, sooner or later he brings the conversation round to him, by which he makes those about him crazier than himself. He says that he lives by truth-but truth is like a sharp knife in the hands of a child; a knife should be carried in its sheath and used only when need occurs. So it is with truth, and for no one is truth more dangerous than for the ruler.”

He took another draught of wine.

“I thank my falcon that I was able to leave Thebes, for the city is seething like a nest of serpents because of it, and I do not wish to involve myself in squabbles between gods. The priests of Ammon are already spreading pretty stories about Pharaoh’s origins and fomenting sedition against the new god. His marriage also has caused indignation, for the Princess of Mitanni, who used to play with dolls, died suddenly, and Pharaoh has raised up Nefertiti, the daughter of the priest, to be his consort. Certainly this Nefertiti is beautiful and dresses well, but she is very willful and her father’s daughter in everything.”

“How did the Princess of Mitanni die?” I asked, for I had seen the scared, wide-eyed child gazing out at Thebes as she was carried, decked out and adorned like an image, along the Avenue of Rams to the temple.

“The physicians say she could not stand the climate,” he laughed. “And that is a barefaced lie, for it is common knowledge that no country has so healthy a climate as Egypt. But you yourself know that the death rate among the royal children is high-higher than in the poor quarter though it seems hard to believe. It is wisest to name no names, but I would halt my chariot before Eie the priest’s house if I dared.”

After this we lay down in the tent to sleep.

In the morning I was roused by the sound of horns and saw the soldiers falling in by companies, while sergeants ran up and down the ranks yelling at them, buffeting them, and striking them with their whips. When all were paraded, Horemheb stepped out from the dirty hut with his golden whip in his hand, and a servant held an umbrella over his head and kept the flies off him with a fly whisk while he addressed the soldiers:

“Soldiers of Egypt! This day I lead you into battle, for my scouts report that the Khabiri are encamped beyond the hills. What their numbers are I cannot say, for these scouts took to their heels in a fright and never stayed to count them. I hope there will be enough to put an end to all of you so that I am spared the sight of your miserable faces and can go back to Egypt to raise an army of real men who love glory and the spoils of war.”

He glared savagely at the troops, and the glare struck home: not one among them dared move an eyelash.

“I shall lead you into battle, and you are to know-every one of you ¦-that I go in the forefront and shall not stay to see which if any of you follow. For I am the son of Horus; the falcon flies before me; and I mean to vanquish the Khabiri if I have to do it alone. Nevertheless, I tell you now that this evening my whip will drip blood, for with my own hands I will flog any who do not follow me. And I tell you that my whip bites deeper than the spears of Khabiri, which are of poor copper and brittle. There is nothing terrible about the Khabiri save their voice, which is indeed appalling. If any of you quail at the sound of shrieks, stop your ears with clay. Do not go into battle whining like old women-at least feign manhood: you wear loincloths, not skirts. If you defeat the Khabiri, you may share out their cattle among you and their other possessions, for they have collected much booty in the cities they have sacked. You may also divide their women among you; I think you will enjoy a tumble with them tonight, for the Khabiri women are comely and fiery, and they love bold warriors.”

Horemheb paused and surveyed his men, who with one accord raised a great shout, struck their shields with their spears, and brandished their bows. He smiled and with a flick of his whip went on:

“I see that you burn for your thrashing, but first we are to consecrate a temple to Pharaoh’s new god At on. He is by nature an unwarlike god, and I do not think you will take much delight in him. Therefore, the main force may set out upon their march while the reserves stay behind to consecrate the temple and assure themselves of Pharaoh’s favor toward us.”

Once more the troops acclaimed him, then began to stream from the city in disorder, each company following its own standard, borne upon a pole. These emblems were lions’ tails and hawks and crocodile heads, which went before them into battle. The light chariots drove on ahead to clear the road. But those officers who held the highest command remained behind with the reserves and followed Horemheb to the temple, which stood on a rise at the outskirts of the city. The temple was small and built of timber. It had been hastily knocked together and daubed with mud. It was unlike other temples, being open in the middle, where the altar stood. No god was to be seen so that the puzzled soldiers looked about to find him.

Horemheb told them, “The god is round and is like the sun’s disk, so look into the sky if your eyes can endure the brightness. He holds out his hands over you in benediction, though my mind misgives me that today after your march his fingers upon your backs will feel like red-hot needles.”

The soldiers murmured that Pharaoh’s god was too distant. They desired one before whom they might prostrate themselves and whom they might touch with their hands if they dared. But they fell silent as the priest stepped forward, a slim youth with unshaven head, who bore a white cloth over his shoulder. His eyes were clear and eager, and upon the altar he offered up spring flowers and oil and wine, which made the soldiers laugh aloud. He also sang a hymn to Aton that was said to have been composed by Pharaoh. It was very long and monotonous, and the men listened to it with open mouths and very little comprehension.

“Most beautiful art thou upon the horizon,

Living Aton, source of all things living!

When thou arisest in the eastern sky

All lands are filled with thy glory.

Fair art thou, great art thou, radiant above the world.

Thy beams embrace all lands and them hast thou created,

And they are bound together with the rays of thy love.

Far art thou, yet thy rays touch the ground;

Exalted art thou; yet the soles of thy feet move upon the dust.”

The priest sang of darkness, of lions that slink from their lairs by night, and of serpents, and many of those who listened were afraid. He sang of the day’s brightness and declared that when the birds spread their wings in the morning it was in adoration of Aton. He declared also that this new god quickened the babe in the womb and gave fertility to the seed of man. Listening to him, one might fancy that there was not one tiny thing in the world with which Aton did not concern himself, nor could even a chick crack its shell and cheep without Aton’s help. The priest ended:

“Thou alone dwellest in my heart

And no man knoweth thee but the King thy son.

Thou sheerest thy thought with him,

Thou anointest him with thy power.

The world lieth between thy hands as thou didst create it;

By thy light do men live

And if thou veil from them thy countenance they perish.

Thou art life and men live through thee.

All eyes are turned toward thy glory

Until the hour of thy setting,

All labor ceaseth

When thou declinest in the West.

Since thy creation of the world

Thou has prepared it for the coming of thy son: For him who was born of thee, The King who liveth by the truth, Lord of both Kingdoms, the Son of Ra, Who liveth by the truth.

For the Lord of the Crowns didst thou create the world And for his great consort, his beloved, Queen of the Two Kingdoms, Nefertiti,

Who shall live and bloom from everlasting to everlasting!”

The soldiers listened and wiggled their toes in the sand. When at last the song came to an end, they shouted in relief and to the honor of Pharaoh, for all that they grasped of the hymn was the intention to praise Pharaoh and hail him as the son of the god, which was right and fitting: so it had ever been and ever would be. Horemheb gave the priest leave to go, and the young man, delighted by the acclamation of the troops, went away to write an account of the event to Pharaoh.