The Egyptian

3

When Horemheb had repaired all his chariots, summoned auxiliary forces from Egypt, assembled in Gaza all the horses of southern Egypt, and exercised his troops, he issued a proclamation declaring that he came as liberator to Syria and in no way as conqueror. Under the kindly protection of Egypt, said he, all the Syrian cities had enjoyed freedom and unrestricted trade, each under its own king. By the villainous treachery of Aziru these cities had been forced to yield to his tyranny. Aziru had bereft the kings of their lineal crowns and oppressed the cities with burdensome taxation. In his greed he had sold Syria to the Hittites, of whose cruelty and evil practices the Syrians had daily proof. Therefore he, Horemheb the Invincible, Son of the Falcon, came to liberate Syria from the yoke of slavery, to encourage trade, and to reinstate the former kings so that under the protection of Egypt the land might flourish and prosper as before. He promised his help to every city that expelled the Hittites and closed its gates to Aziru. Those cides that continued to resist he would burn, plunder, and destroy, level their walls forever and carry away the citizens into slavery.

Finally Horemheb marched on Joppa and sent his fleet to close the harbor. With the help of his spies he noised abroad his proclamation, which aroused much uneasiness and indecision among the cities and disputes among his enemies, which was indeed its sole purpose. But Kaptah, like the cautious man he was, remained within the walls of Gaza in case Horemheb should suffer defeat, for both Aziru and the Hittites were gathering together a mighty force inland.

Roju Bull-Neck was reconciled with Kaptah, who cured him of his delusion by explaining that the soldiers, ravenous during the siege, had stolen the four hundred cruppers from the harness store and eaten them, for they were of soft leather and could be chewed to dull the edge of hunger. When Roju heard this, his frenzy subsided so that he could be loosed from his bonds, and he forgave his comrades the theft because of their great valor.

When Horemheb had departed with his men, Roju closed the gates of Gaza, vowing that never again would he admit any troops into the city. He drank wine and watched Kaptah’s play with the guard. At the time of Horemheb’s departure, Kaptah had won back from the old man only one and a half million deben of gold. They drank and threw dice from morning till night; they quarreled and hurled the dice in each others’ faces; they spat in their palms and cast the dice from the cup so that they rolled on the floor. The old man was miserly and desired to play for small stakes only, and he mourned and bewailed his losses. When Horemheb laid siege to Joppa, Kaptah made the guard raise his stakes, and when a messenger brought news that Horemheb had breached the walls, Kaptah beggared his opponent so thoroughly in a few throws as to reverse the debt to the tune of some hundred thousand deben of gold. Kaptah was magnanimous, however, and forgave it. He bestowed new clothes on him and a handful or so of silver so that the old man wept for joy and blessed him as his benefactor.

I do not know whether or not Kaptah cheated and played with loaded dice. I know only that he played with great skill and unbelievable good fortune. The tale of this gamble for a stake of millions-a gamble that continued for many weeks-spread throughout Syria, and the old man, whose blindness soon returned to him, lived for the rest of his days in a little hut by the walls of Gaza. Travelers even from other cities would visit him, and he would tell them of the play. After the passage of years he could repeat the score at each throw, for the blind have good memories. But he was proudest when he spoke of the last throw of all by which he lost one hundred and fifty thousand deben of gold, for never had such high stakes been played for with dice. People brought him gifts to persuade him to tell his story, so that he suffered no want but lived in greater comfort than if Kaptah had pensioned him for life.

When Joppa fell, Kaptah went there in haste, and I with him. We saw for the first time that wealthy city in the hands of the conquerors. And though the boldest of its citizens had risen in revolt against Aziru and the Hittites when Horemheb stormed in, yet he would not spare it. For two weeks he allowed his men to plunder and despoil it. Kaptah amassed a huge fortune in this city, for the soldiers bartered priceless carpets and furniture and statues, and such things as they could not carry away, for silver and wine. A handsome, shapely Syrian woman could be had in Joppa for two copper rings.

It was here that I realized fully the brutality of man to fellow man. During this time of drunkenness, robbing, and burning, every kind of abomination was committed. The soldiers set fire to houses for their own. amusement, so that at night they could see to loot, to rape, and to torture merchants and force them to disclose where their treasure lay hid. There were those who diverted themselves by standing at a street corner and, with club or spear, taking the life of every Syrian who came by, whether men or women, children or the aged. My heart was hardened at the sight of man’s iniquity. All that had happened in Thebes on Aton’s account was trivial beside what was done in Joppa because of Horemheb. He gave his soldiers a free hand, to bind them more closely to himself. To avoid sharing the fate of Joppa, many of the cities along the coast drove out the Hittites from their midst.

I will speak no more of those days, for in recalling them my heart turns to stone in my breast and my hands grow cold. I say only that at the time of Horemheb’s attack there were in the city, besides Aziru’s garrison and the Hittite soldiery, nearly twenty thousand inhabitants. When he departed there were not three hundred left alive.

Thus did Horemheb wage war in Syria, and I went with him, dressing his men’s wounds and witnessing all the evil that one human being can do another. The war continued for three years, during which Horemheb defeated the Hittites and Aziru’s troops in many battles. Twice his own forces were surprised by Hittite chariot squadrons, which wrought great destruction and forced him to withdraw behind the walls of captured cities. He contrived to maintain sea communications with Egypt, and the Syrian fleet was never able to get the better of his own, which was now seasoned in war. He could always call up reinforcements from Egypt after his defeats, and gather strength for renewed thrusts. The cities of Syria were laid in ruins, and men hid themselves like wild beasts in the recesses of the hills. The whole region was laid waste, and ravaging hordes trampled the crops and broke down the fruit trees, that the enemy might not live off the land he claimed. Thus the wealth and man power of Egypt drained away, and Egypt was like a mother rending her garments and strewing ashes in her hair as she sees her children die. All along the river, from the Lower Kingdom to the Upper, there was no town, no village, no hovel that had not lost husbands and sons in Syria for the sake of Egypt’s greatness.

During these three years I aged more rapidly than in all my earlier years. My hair fell out, my back grew bent, and my face became as wrinkled as a dried fruit. I snapped and spoke harshly to the sick as many physicians do when they grow old, despite their good will. In this respect I was no different from other doctors, although I saw more than most.

In the third year the plague came to Syria, for this follows ever in the wake of war, being engendered in any place where great numbers of rotting corpses are heaped together. The whole of Syria was but one huge, open grave. Whole races died out so that their speech and customs fell into oblivion. Pestilence slew those whom the fighting had spared. Within the armies of both Horemheb and the Hittites it claimed so many victims that warfare ceased and the troops fled into the mountains or the desert, where the scourge could not follow. This plague was no respecter of persons: high and low, rich and poor were its victims, nor was there any known remedy. Those who sickened lay down on their couches, drew a cloth over their heads, and most often died within three days. Such as survived bore terrible scars in armpit and groin, where the pestilent humors were forced out during recovery.

The disease was as capricious in sparing as in slaying. It was not always the strongest and healthiest who survived, but often the weak and starving, as if in these it had found too little to feed on. In tending patients, I came at last to let as much blood from them as I dared and to forbid them food so long as the sickness lasted. I cured many in this way, but a like number died under my hands, and I could not be sure that this treatment was correct. Yet I was compelled to do something for them, that they might retain their faith in my arts. A sick man who loses faith in his recovery and his physician’s skill dies more easily than one who believes in them. My treatment was better than many others since it was at any rate cheap for the patient.

Ships carried the plague to Egypt, but fewer died there. It lost its virulence, and the number of those who survived exceeded that of the dead. It disappeared from the land that same year with the rising of the waters. In the winter it departed from Syria also, enabling Horemheb to muster his troops again and continue the war. The following spring he crossed the mountains into the plain before Megiddo and defeated the Hittites in a great battle. When Burnaburiash of Babylon saw the successes of Horemheb, he took fresh courage and remembered his alliance with Egypt. He sent his troops into what had been the land of Mitanni and drove the Hittites from their grazing grounds in Naharani. When the Hittites perceived that the devastated country of Syria was now beyond their grasp, they offered peace, being wise warriors and thrifty men, unwilling to hazard their chariots for empty glory when they needed them to quiet Babylon.

Horemheb rejoiced at this peace. His forces had dwindled, and the war had impoverished Egypt. He desired to build up Syria and its trade and so draw profit from the land. He agreed to make peace on condition that the Hittites yield Megiddo, which Aziru had made his capital and which he had fortified with impregnable walls and towers. Therefore, the Hittites took Aziru prisoner, and having confiscated the immense wealth he had amassed there from all over Syria, they handed him over with his wife and two sons in chains to Horemheb. They then plundered Megiddo and drove the flocks and herds of Amurru northward out of the country, which by the terms of peace was now under Egypt’s control.

Horemheb did not quibble at this. Having brought the fighting to an end, he held a banquet for the Hittite princes and chiefs and drank wine with them all night, boasting of his prowess. On the following day he was to execute Aziru and his family before the assembled troops, in token of the eternal peace that should thereafter prevail between Egypt and the land of Hatti.

I would not partake of his banquet but made my way in the darkness to the tent where Aziru lay in chains. I went to Aziru because in the whole of Syria he now had no friend. A man who has lost all his possessions and is condemned to an ignominious death never has any friends. I knew that he dearly loved life, and I hoped to persuade him, by all that I had seen of it, that it was not worth living. I desired to assure him as a doctor that death is easy, easier than life’s torments, sorrows, and sufferings. Life is a searing flame, death the dark waters of oblivion. I desired to say all this to him because he was to die the following morning and would be unable to sleep because he loved life so dearly. If he would not listen to me, I thought to sit silently beside him, that he might not lie alone. A man may live without friends, perhaps, but to die without one friend is hard indeed-hardest of all after a life of kingship.

He and his family had been brought in a shameful manner to Horemheb’s camp, where the soldiers mocked him and cast mud and horse droppings on him. I avoided him then and covered my face with my garment. He was an exceedingly proud man and would not have wished me to see his degradation since I had once beheld him in the days of his majesty and power. I now went in darkness to his tent, and the guards said one to another, “Let us admit him, for he is Sinuhe the physician and his errand must be lawful. If we forbid him, he will revile us or by witchcraft deprive us of our manhood. He is malignant, and his tongue stings more fiercely than a scorpion.”

In the darkness of the tent I said, “Aziru, King of Amurru, will you receive a friend on the eve of your death?”

Aziru sighed deeply, his chains rattled, and he replied, “I am a king no longer and have no friends-but is it indeed you, Sinuhe? I know your voice even in the dark.”

“It is I.”

“By Marduk and all the devils of the underworld! If you are Sinuhe, bring a light. I am weary of lying in the darkness; I shall have enough of that by and by. The accursed Hittites have torn my clothes and crushed my limbs in torture so that I am no pretty sight. Yet as a physician you must be accustomed to worse ones, and I am not ashamed, for in the face of death it is not worth while to blush for one’s wretchedness. Bring a light that I may see your face and put my hand in yours. My liver aches, and water runs from my eyes because of my wife and my boys. If also you can fetch some strong beer to moisten my throat, I will rehearse all your good deeds tomorrow in the kingdom of death. I cannot pay for even a mouthful, for the Hittites have robbed me of my last copper piece.”

I bade the guards bring a suet lamp and light it, for the acrid smoke of torches stung my eyes. They also brought a jar of beer. Aziru rose up groaning to a sitting posture, and I helped him put the reed to his mouth, that he might suck up the Syrian beer, which is muddy with husks and malt. His hair was matted and gray, and his splendid beard had been torn when the Hittites tortured him, and great patches of skin had come away with it. His fingers were crushed, his nails black with blood, and his ribs broken so that he groaned as he breathed, and he spat blood.

When he had drunk and spat sufficiently, he gazed at the flame of the lamp and said, “How clear and gentle is that light to my weary eyes, now that I have lain so long in darkness. The flame flickers and will die-and so also does the life of man flicker and die. I thank you, Sinuhe, for the lamp and the beer, and I would willingly make you a gift in return. You know well enough that I have no more presents to give, for my Hittite friends in their rapacity have broken the very teeth you gilded.”

It is easy to be wise after the event, and I would not remind him that I had warned him against the Hittites. I took his crushed hand in mine and held it, and he bowed his proud head and wept, so that the tears fell on my hands from his bruised and swollen eyes.

He said, “I rejoiced and laughed before you unashamed in the days of my glory; why then in sorrow should I be ashamed of my tears? Know, Sinuhe, that I do not weep for myself or for my riches and my crowns, although I have ever clung greedily to power and to this world’s goods. I weep for my wife Keftiu-for my big, handsome son-and for my little, little son-because they also must die tomorrow.”

I said to him, “Aziru, King of Amurru! Remember that all Syria is but one open, stinking grave, because of your ambition. Numberless are those who have died for your sake, and it is only fitting that you should die tomorrow since you have lost. Perhaps it is right that your family should die with you. Know, however, that I begged Horemheb to spare the lives of your wife and sons. He would not consent, for he means to wipe out your seed and your name and your very memory in Syria. Therefore he will not even concede you a grave, Aziru, and wild beasts will snarl over your remains. He does not wish the men of Syria to gather at your tomb in times to come and swear iniquitous oaths in your name.”

Aziru heard this with dismay and said, “For the sake of my god Baal, make sacrifice of meat and wine before the Baal of Amurru when I am dead, Sinuhe, or I shall be condemned to wander in perpetual hunger and thirst through the dark regions of death. Do this service also for Keftiu, whom you once loved, although because of your friendship you gave her to me-and also for my sons, that I may die with a quiet mind. I do not blame Horemheb for his decision, for no doubt I would have treated him and his family thus had he fallen into my hands. Truth to tell, Sinuhe, though I weep, yet I am glad that my family is to perish with me and that our blood shall mingle in its flow. In the land of death I should forever suffer torment at the thought of Keftiu in the arms of another. She has many admirers, and minstrels have tuned their strings in honor of her luxuriant beauty. Well is it also that my sons perish, for they were born kings and wore their crowns even in the cradle. I would not have them carried into slavery in Egypt.”

He sucked again at the beer, and for all his misery he grew a little tipsy. He picked with broken fingers at the filth the soldiers had cast on him, and said, “Sinuhe, my friend, you accuse me falsely in saying that Syria is an open grave through my doing. I am to blame only for losing the war and allowing the Hittites to deceive me. If I had won, all the evil that has come about would have been laid at Egypt’s door, and my name would be praised. Because I lost, the blame is cast on me, and my name is anathema throughout Syria.”

The strong beer mounted to his head, and tearing his graying hair he cried aloud, saying, “O Syria, Syria! My torment, my hope, my love! I did all for your greatness, and for the sake of your freedom I rose in revolt-but now on the day of my death you cast me out. Fair Byblos, blossoming Smyrna, wily Sidon, Joppa the mighty! All you cities that gleamed like pearls in my crown, why did you forsake me? Yet I love you too dearly to hate you for your desertion. I love Syria because it is Syria: false, brutal, capricious, and ever ready to betray. Races die out; nations rise up only to fall; kingdoms dissolve; fame and glory flee like a shadow-nevertheless endure, endure, my proud cities! Let your white walls sparkle against the red hills of the coast-shine on from age to age-and my dust, borne by the desert winds, shall fly to caress you!”

My heart was filled with sadness to see him yet imprisoned in his dreams, but I would not rebuke him since they brought him comfort on the eve of his death. I held his maimed hands, and he held mine moaning.

We talked throughout the night, recalling our meetings in the time when I dwelt in Smyrna and we were both in the pride of our youth and strength. At dawn my slaves brought us food that they had prepared, and the guards did not forbid them, for they also had their share. The slaves brought us hot fat mutton and rice cooked in fat, and into our cups they poured strong wine from Sidon, spiced with myrrh. I bade them wash Aziru clean of all the filth that had been cast on him and comb and dress his hair and hide his beard in a net fashioned of gold thread. I hid his tattered garments and his chains beneath a royal mantle, for his fetters could not be removed, being of copper and welded on him, so I could not array him in fresh clothes. My slaves did the same service for Keftiu and her two sons, but Horemheb would not allow Aziru to see his wife and children before they met at the place of execution.

When the hour came, and Horemheb, laughing loudly, stepped from his tent with the drunken Hittite princes, I went up to him and said, “Truly, Horemheb, I have done you many services, and it may be that I saved your life when in Tyre I drew the poisoned arrow from your thigh and dressed the wound. Do me this service: Let Aziru die without indignity, for he is the king of Syria and he fought bravely. Your own honor will be enhanced if you accord him this. Your Hittite friends have tortured him enough and crushed his limbs in forcing him to disclose where his wealth was hidden.”

Horemheb looked very black at my words, for he had thought of many ingenious ways to prolong the death agony. All was prepared, and already at dawn the army had gathered at the foot of the hillock on which the executions were to take place. The men were fighting among themselves for the best places, that they might make the most of a diverting day. Horemheb had arranged this not because he took delight in torture but in order to amuse his men and spread terror throughout Syria, that after so terrible a death no one might dare even to dream of revolt. I must say this to Horemheb’s honor, for he was not by nature cruel, as he was reputed to be. He was a warrior, and death to him was no more than a weapon in his hand. He allowed rumor to exaggerate his brutality, that it might strike terror into the hearts of his enemies and gain him the veneration of all. He believed that men had more respect for a cruel ruler than for a mild one and that they regarded gentleness as weakness.

He scowled, and taking his arm from about the neck of Prince Shubattu, he stood before me swaying and striking his leg with his golden whip.

He said to me, “You, Sinuhe, are a perpetual thorn in my side. Unlike any men of sense you are cross grained. You revile all who prosper and raise themselves to honor and affluence; you are tender and ready with consolation to those who fall and are vanquished. You well know with what toil and cost I have brought the most skillful executioners here from every corner of the land on Aziru’s account; even to set up their many racks and cauldrons has cost a great quantity of silver. I cannot at the last moment deprive my marsh rats of their pleasure, for all have suffered hardships and have bled from many wounds on Aziru’s account.”

Shubattu, the Hittite prince, slapped him on the back and laughed, “You say rightly, Horemheb! You will not now deprive us of our pleasure. To save him for your enjoyment we tore no flesh from his bones but only very carefully pinched him with pincers and wooden screws.”

In his vanity Horemheb resented these words, nor did it please him to be touched by the prince. He frowned and said, “You are drunk, Shubattu, As for Aziru, I have no other purpose than to show the whole world the fate that awaits any man who trusts the Hittites! Since in the course of this night we have become friends and have drunk many fraternal cups together, I will spare this ally of yours and for friendship’s sake will give him an easy death.”

Shubattu’s face was distorted with rage, for the Hittites are tender of their honor, although as everyone knows they betray and sell their allies without a thought if profitable. Indeed all nations do so and all able rulers. The Hittites are more barefaced in their behavior than others and made no effort to find pretexts and excuses to disguise the matter and give it some veneer of justice. Yet Shubattu was wroth. His companions laid their hands over his mouth, and dragging him away from Horemheb, they held him fast until his impotent fury caused him to spew up the wine he had drunk, and he grew quieter.

Horemheb summoned Aziru from his tent and was greatly astonished to see him step out into the sight of all with the proud bearing of a king, wearing a royal mantle over his shoulders. For Aziru had eaten fat meat and drunk strong wine. He tossed his head and laughed aloud as he walked to the place of execution and shouted insults at the officers and guards. His hair was combed and curled, his face gleamed with oil, and he called to Horemheb over the heads of the soldiers: “Horemheb, you filthy Egyptian! Fear me no longer, for I am defeated and you need not hide now behind the spears of your troops. Come hither that I may wipe the dirt from my feet on your cloak, for such a sty as this camp of yours I never saw in all my life. I would enter the presence of Baal with clean feet.”

Horemheb was delighted at his words, and laughing loudly he shouted to Aziru, “I cannot approach you, because the Syrian stench of you turns my stomach, notwithstanding the mantle you have somehow stolen to hide your uncleanly carcass. Yet without doubt you are a valiant man, Aziru, to laugh at death. I give you an easy death, for the sake of my own honor.”

He sent his bodyguard to escort Aziru and to prevent the soldiers from casting mud on him. The ruffians of Horemheb surrounded him and smote with their spear shafts at any who offered him abuse, for they no longer felt any hatred for Aziru because of the great sufferings he had brought on them; they admired his courage. They escorted Queen Keftiu also and Aziru’s two boys to the place of execution. Keftiu had adorned herself and painted her face with red and white, and the boys stalked to the fateful spot with the bearing of princes, the elder leading the younger by the hand.

When Aziru saw them he weakened and said, “Keftiu, Keftiu, my white mare, my love and the apple of my eye! I am grieved indeed that you must follow me even into death, for life would still have been very sweet to you.”

Keftiu answered, “Be not distressed for me, my king. I follow you willingly. You are my husband, and your strength is that of a bull. There is no other man who could content me after you had gone. During our life together I have sundered you from all other women and bound you to me. I will not permit you to go alone into the land of death, where all those fair women who have died before me are assuredly awaiting you. I would follow you there though my life were spared-I would strangle myself in my own hair, my king, for I was but a slave and you made me queen, and I bore you two fine boys.”

Aziru was elated at her words and said to his sons, “My handsome boys! You were born into the world as the sons of a king. Die then like princes, that I need not blush for you. Believe me, death is no more painful than a drawn tooth. Be valiant, my sweet boys!”

With this he knelt upon the ground before the headsman. Turning to Keftiu he said, “I am weary of seeing these stinking Egyptians all about me, and their bloodstained spears. Bare your sweet bosom to me, Keftiu, that I may behold your beauty as I go. I shall die as happily as I have lived with you.”

Keftiu bared her opulent breasts, the headsman raised the great sword and at one stroke swept Aziru’s head from his shoulders. It fell at Keftiu’s feet, the. rich blood spurted violently from the great body with the last beats of the pulse and splashed the boys so that they were stricken with horror, and the younger one shuddered. But Keftiu lifted Aziru’s head from the ground, kissed the swollen lips, and stroked the torn cheeks. Pressing the face to her bosom she said to her sons, “Hasten, my valiant boys! Go to your father without fear, my little ones, for your mother is all impatience to follow him.”

The two boys knelt down obediently, the elder one still holding the other by the hand, and the headsman smote their heads from their young necks with ease. Then, having thrust their bodies aside with his foot, he severed Keftiu’s fat, white neck at a stroke. Thus all of them received an easy death. But by Horemheb’s order their bodies were thrown into a pit to be devoured by wild beasts.