Ancient Evenings

by Norman Mailer

  “Inside, in the middle of the stone floor was a circle of silver soil, that is, some white sand with many shavings of silver, and Ramses would kneel upon it, and stare in contemplation on the Sacred Bark which rested on the silver sand. I, kneeling beside Him, would feel these filings cutting my knees. The King, however, did not move. Ramses the Second had little patience in other matters, yet there was no time of day happier to Him than resting on His knees before the Bark of Amon. That boat, if I may describe it for my family, was no more than six paces long, but covered with gold leaf, and ornamented by a ram’s head of silver in the prow, and another in the stern. We looked at these wonders and rested our knees on the silver sand in this great stone room old as the centuries, and therefore possessed of the chill of great age even on a hot day. Besides, the presence of Amon was enough to bring cold to the air! It was dark, all but entirely dark in that place if not for the single shaft of light that came down from the small opening high in the south wall to light up the monumental bulk of the old altar, but now in the near-darkness it was the ark that kept our attention more, for its gold sides glowed with fire in the gloom like the rich light one can sometimes see in one’s heart. Kneeling, I could feel the presence of Amon in His cabin on that ark. In His small cabin, not so high as the space from my knees to my breast, was the Greatest God, there within! And we could know Him, for His mood was more powerful than the coming of night to the Nile, indeed we always could say as we knelt before Him whether He was happy with us or much displeased.

  “Soon, the High Priest, Bak-ne-khon-su, would come into the Sanctuary with two young priests—the one who was Tongue, and the one called Pure.”

  Ptah-nem-hotep asked, “Are these the Superintendents of Prayer and Purity?”

  “Their titles have changed,” said Menenhetet.

  “Ever so much”

  “It was different then. Bak-ne-khon-su would wear no more than a white skirt; his feet were bare. Tongue and Pure would oil their scalps. Their heads would gleam. I would be impressed by the cleanliness of their dress, for many a priest had linen spattered with the blood of sacrifice. Some even smelled of burnt meat. But not the High Priest. He was a man with a simple manner and now he said no more than, ‘The clay is broken and the seal is loosed. The door is open. All that is evil in me, I throw on the ground.’ With that, he prostrated himself before the Pharaoh and kissed His toe, even as Tongue and Pure kissed the ground to either side of Bak-ne-khon-su. All three kept looking up with adoration.

  “I can tell you that despite their rank, they were not brothers to know much of matters outside the Temple. Bak-ne-khon-su was most unlike Khem-Usha. If he was a Third Priest by the age of twenty-two, he had to wait until he was near to forty before becoming a Second Priest. During all those years, it was said he remained a vessel of innocence, but little more. No one thought of him with great regard until my Pharaoh made him High Priest. I think his loyalty to Ramses the Second may have been his first virtue. I might also say he conducted all services with exceptional care.

  “So, for instance, when Pure opened the door of the cabin, Bak-ne-khon-su not only kissed the ground, but did it with his arms behind him so that he was obliged to incline himself forward until supported by no more than his knees and his nose, yet from this awkward position, he was able to roll his face on the ground in genuine terror at the awesome act of opening the cabin and this was true even if they did it every day.

  “My eyes had grown used to the dark of the Sanctuary, so I could see the statue. The gold of Amon’s skin was smooth; His hair, and the chin-phallus of His beard, were black; and the black stone of His eyes looked at me carefully. I could swear to that. I felt a new fear this morning, for it may be that I had never dared to look into the face of Amon before, yet He seemed less like a God than a small man, with features not nearly so handsome as Ramses the Second and certainly not so fine as the delicate and somewhat sunken cheeks of Bak-ne-khon-su. Indeed, Amon looked like a wealthy little fellow you might see in the streets. He was certainly being treated with intimacy. The High Priest stood up, bowed in four directions, took a cloth and said, ‘Let Thy seat be adorned and Thy robes exalted,’ and he reached into the cabin and wiped the old rouge from Amon’s cheeks. With another prayer he applied new rouge. Amon now looked more cheerful.” I hardly wished to stop listening to my great-grandfather, but it was impossible to ignore my father at this point, who smiled at Ptah-nem-hotep as if he would call attention to the importance of those moments when he, as Chief Overseer of the Cosmetic Box, would apply rouge to the Pharaoh’s cheeks.

  “Now Bak-ne-khon-su removed yesterday’s garment from the golden limbs and plump golden belly of Amon, and replaced it with fresh linen and new jewelry. Each piece removed was blessed by Tongue and kissed by Pure, then laid away in a chest of ebony and ivory. A perfume of sandalwood was sprinkled upon Anion’s brow and a cup of water was set before Him with a plate containing a few fine bites of meat and duck and honey. Then the priests lit the incense, and prayed aloud, ‘Come, White-Dress,’ they said, ‘come, White-Eye of Horus. The Gods dress with Thee, and Thy name is Dress. The Gods adorn Themselves, and Thy name is Adornment.’

  “I was young then and had no idea I would ever die and live again, and become a High Priest, but even in that early hour, the smell of incense in the Sanctuary was like no odor I knew, for it was scalding to the nostrils, yet sweet and mysterious, and with good reason. I came to learn when I was High Priest that there was much in the incense. I tell it now because You are my Pharaoh, but in my second life as a priest, I would not have dared to speak of what was in it. Of course, even as I tell this now, I do not recite the prayers that accompany the mixing, only that this subtle powder held the balm of resin, and onycha and galbanum and frankincense, and there were lesser quantities of myrrh, cassia, spikenard and saffron. I can say there were also carefully chosen amounts of aromatic fruit rind powdered with cinnamon, then marinated with lye and wine and salt, plus salt of copper to give a blue flame. Indeed, the lye was best taken from the root of leeks wherever leeks could be found to grow in high stony places. This was a secret of the High Priest of those days.”

  I wished to hear more, but Menenhetet paused. He would wait—so his manner said—while those who desired could muse over the salts and powders he had described. These herbs could bring back memories, after all, of funerals, or perfumed couches, and so his audience was likely to be distracted by many thoughts. But I had no need to brood on galbanum and frankincense. I waited to hear the story. My great-grandfather’s tale might be full of bends but like our Nile, it did not matter if the river flowed south for a time since we knew it would always turn to the north again.

  So, I was patient. I knew that the four lives of my great-grandfather were like the four corners that make the foundation of a box. His mind could hold what any of us might wish to put within it—there was no matter on which he had not thought. Even as one can step into a boat and float down our river, thinking at first only of how far one has gone, so after hours of travel one begins to see that it is not really a large distance one has traversed but yet the river is longer by far than the greatest journey one has taken before—that way, too, did the long slow current of my great-grandfather’s mind give promise to pass every palace and cave I had encountered in my sleep.

  Now when he began to speak again of the presence of Ramses the Second in the Sanctuary, I could feel the attention of my mother and father return, then of Ptah-nem-hotep, for He had pondered the longest over the ingredients of the incense.

  “In other places than the Temple,” said Menenhetet, “Ramses the Second was, as I say, impatient. Indeed, He had the impatience of a great lady just so much as of a great man. His face, as I believe I have related, would have been as perfect on a woman as on a man. It was therefore a pure expression of Maat that He had so great an Estate below. One knew what a man He was when offered a glimpse through His robes of the stoutest longest friend any man ever carried. The dissatisfaction of beaut
y may have been on His face, but the authority of Egypt dwelt between His thighs.”

  “I have heard as much,” said Ptah-nem-hotep in a voice as dry as the sands of our desert.

  “Yes,” said my great-grandfather, “and I have observed that most of those who are so fortunate as to have been given the great member of a God often show an uncontrollable lack of patience. Our Usermare, Ramses the Second, on any ordinary occasion, could wait for delay no more than a lion can be taunted, but in the Temple, He was as peaceful as the shade of a tree.

  “So when Bak-ne-khon-su asked of my Pharaoh which question the Lord of the Two-Lands might like to present to the Hidden One this morning after the sacrifice, the Chosen-of-Ra replied only, ‘In the curl of My tongue is the question still sleeping.’ In truth, how could He know His true question after the cloud crossed the sun?

  “The door to the Sanctuary was now opened by Tongue and Pure, and a white ram came through the portal, led by two young priests, one at each horn. Two priests followed at the rear holding pointed sticks to prod the ram’s flanks. Then, as now, gold cords tied the beast’s front feet close to each other. He could walk but not run. I may say, however, that in those days more care was taken with the animal itself. His horns were covered with gold leaf, and his skin was powdered until he was sweet smelling and whiter in appearance than our linen.

  “This animal was, however, distraught. Some beasts are at peace with Amon when they enter the Sanctuary, which is in itself a good sign. For then their entrails usually prove firm, and do not excite any dispute concerning the shape. This animal, however, must have seen the same cloud, because on encountering the altar, he gave one mournful sound, as though wounded by the knife already, and defecated. Three large wet deposits were laid on the stone.

  “It was three and that is the number of change. We would have preferred four, the base of good foundation. The priests waited, therefore. But when no further tremor showed in the animal’s hide, and the ram’s mouth relaxed, we could feel Amon stirring in the manner of a guest getting ready to leave. Tongue and Pure came forward then with two handfuls of silver sand from the sacred circle on which the Bark was laid, and they drew smaller circles of silver around each dropping.

  “Now the animal was brought to the sacrificial stone. I have not described the altar, but I think it is because I never liked to look at it. The Sanctuary, being the old Sanctuary—it is all rebuilt now—was a thousand years old, old as Sesostris, I say, yet the altar was more ancient. I do not believe it had been washed in that thousand years. Old blood lay upon older blood—you shiver, Hathfertiti, and make a face,” said my great-grandfather, “but there is much to be studied, for this ancient blood was darker than the night and harder than stone. The Gods may race through our veins, but They make Their home where blood has dried on the rock.

  “Bak-ne-khon-su began to speak to Amon. He had a light voice, and he spoke tenderly as if to the God Himself, using the quiet tones of a man who has spent every day in the service of his ruler, and never uncomfortable in the life he had chosen. While the priests held the ram’s head by the altar, its neck above the fount, Bak-ne-khon-su approached with a sacrificial knife and began to utter the words Amon once spoke to the King Thutmose the Third,

  ‘I have made them see Thy Majesty as a circling star ‘Who scatters its flame in fire and gives forth its dew.’

  “He drew the knife across the neck of the ram, and the animal gave one shake of its horns as if it had just looked into the eye of the sun. Then it stood there shaking to some piteous quivering of its heart. We listened to the sound of blood dripping down upon blood. It is so much more serious than the little cry of water falling on other water.

  “Bak-ne-khon-su said:

  ‘I have made them see Thy Majesty as a crocodile,

  ‘The Lord of Fear in the water,

  ‘I give Thee to smite those who live on islands.

  ‘In the midst of the Very Green, they hear Thy roar.’

  * * *

  “And on that,” said Menenhetet, “with the skill of a Royal Carpenter splitting a post, so did Bak-ne-khon-su kneel before this ram held by the four priests, and, in the dim light, took a long cut with the knife down the ram’s body that not one in a hundred good butchers could have repeated, so quick and certain was the gesture. All of the loose organs, the stomach, the entrails, the liver, and the spleen, fell with a sigh to the stone, and the animal tumbled over. I saw an expression of great beauty come over its worried face and pass from the eyes to the nostrils. I saw its expression change from a twitching terrified beast to a noble one, as if it knew that its life was out there on the stone, and the Gods were offering attention. Like all that lives, the Gods know how to feed on the dead. May the dead not learn to feed upon us.”

  It was a small remark, yet in the warm night under the soft glow of the fireflies, I knew that fear when we cannot say of what we are afraid. Is it of wild animals, evil friends, or angry Gods? Or are they gathered together in the same air?

  “That sacrifice,” said Menenhetet, “was of relief to me. I had been close to the dread warriors often feel before a battle, and had hardly been able to breathe as the ram was led forward. Yet the final convulsion of its legs relieved a noose upon my chest, and I took in all the air I could, all the cavernous odors of flesh that has been packed in darkness upon flesh.

  “Bak-ne-khon-su knelt then and laid his ten fingers on the entrails and lifted the topmost coils gently to search the turns beneath. Near the center, like a snake that had swallowed a rabbit, was a swelling in one loop, and I felt a congestion in my throat, and will try to explain, for in truth it was an uncouth age compared to ours, that in those days we studied the entrails with much seriousness. The animal might be dead, but in its coils had been left the power to fertilize the land. So these entrails had as much to tell as any piece of gold. The gold we spend may no longer belong to us, but on its travels it inspires great warmth in others.”

  “If this is what they call philosophy,” said my mother, “it has a mighty stench.”

  “On the contrary,” said Ptah-nem-hotep, “I am fascinated by the places through which your heart has passed. You study what others choose to wash away.”

  Menenhetet nodded at the fine edge of this remark, and went on.

  “Standing around the circle of silver sand, our eyes on the navel of the little gold belly of Amon, we waited while the priests cut away pieces of meat from the haunch of the ram, and laid them on the fire of the altar. There, in the thick air of the smoke as new blood charred on the hot stone, we felt the worth of the ram pass into the bellies of the Gods Who were waiting—which is to say I felt close to a great force in the room. Then I heard the voice of Amon stirring His golden belly, even as Bak-ne-khon-su had stirred the entrails of the ram. The High Priest began to speak, but no longer in his own tones, rather in a sound mighty as the echo of a great chamber. Out of the lungs and throat of Bak-ne-khon-su came a huge and unforgettable voice:

  “ ‘To the King Who is My slave. Seven times may You fall at My feet. For You are the footstool of My feet, the groom of My horse, You are My dog.’

  “ ‘I am Your dog,’ whispered Ramses. He had trouble speaking, but I could never have uttered a word. My teeth ground upon one another like bone mortared to bone. Never had the voice of Amon been so great in the Sanctuary. Walls could have shattered from the power of that voice. ‘Yes, I am Your dog,’ repeated Ramses, ‘and I live in fear of Your displeasure. This morning, a cloud passed before the face of Amon-Ra.’

  “Bak-ne-khon-su was silent, and the voice of Amon was silent, but a babble came from the fire. Through the crackle of the flames, I could hear many voices, and as if this were the sound of many princes and persons inquiring of Him, Ramses the Second now opened His jaws and with as much courage, I am certain, as if I had tried to speak into the mouth of a cave where a beast was waiting, so did He say, ‘You Who are Ra and Amon are the God of all good and great soldiers, and I bow before You.’ My Phara
oh began to tremble like the ram as He spoke: ‘Last night an officer came into My presence with a message from the King of the Hittites, Metella, who declares that he wishes to insult the Two-Lands. He has killed our allies, and taken many cattle and sheep. Now he is in his city of Kadesh with a mighty army and challenges Me to war. He challenges Me! Help Me to avenge this insult.’

  “Ramses the Second began to weep—a sight I had never seen before. In a voice that choked, He whispered, ‘A cloud covered the sun this morning. I shiver before Him Who dares to insult You. I feel weak in My limbs.’

  “The air was heavy with burning meat,” said Menenhetet, “an odor so heavy I would not breathe it again until the Battle of Kadesh, but through that thickness of smoke and the lamentations of the Pharaoh, a silence followed. I would swear I saw the corners of the painted mouth of Amon turn downward in displeasure. Yet through the smoke, and by the white light that still trembled in my heart when I closed my eyes, how could I know what I saw? I had not eaten since dawn, and the smell of meat burning on the altar inflamed my stomach. Then, the great clamor of the voice of Amon was heard again in the throat of Bak-ne-khon-su. In cries of fearful rage, so did Amon say: ‘If You betray Me, Your legs will run like water down a hill, Your right arm is dead, Your heart will weep forever. But if You are with Me, they will see You as a Lord of Light. You will shine over their heads like Myself. You will be like a lion in his rage. You will crush the barbarian, and crouch over their corpses in the valley. You will be safe on the sea. The Very Green will be like a string tied to Your wrist. Yes!’ said Amon in a voice so great that Bak-ne-khon-su’s lips went still and the golden statue began to vibrate on the seat of its cabin in the Bark (until, through my closed eyes, I could see those gold lips moving beneath their rouge) ‘Yes, they will look upon Your Majesty as My two Princes, Horus and Set. It is Their arms I bring together to guard Your victory. Bring to My temples the gold and jewels of Asia.’