Hearing this, I begged Father to cut off my sidelock. If I am to work like a man, why should I still look like a boy? Alas, he refused.
First day of the first month of the season of Planting
As this was the first day of the season of planting, Father took me with him out into the fields, where he inspects the work of the surveyor scribes.
These scribes copy the exact shapes of the fields on papyrus, on a much smaller scale. In this way, when the flood goes down, they settle arguments about the sizes of fields. The river mud that makes our land so fertile also hides the boundaries between fields. The large stones that mark the field corners show through the mud, but by moving a stone a cubit each year, a farmer can steal his neighbor’s land little by little.
Though it is traditional for the surveyors to measure land today, it was really too early, and the ground was like a marsh. To carry out their duties, they had to wallow in mud and soon became covered in it. In the sun, the mud peeled off in patches, so that some of the men looked like oxen.
Twentieth day
I did not go out with Father this afternoon, for he is again concerned with a tomb robbery. Instead, I went swimming in the river with May and other friends from school. We had to sneak away secretly to do this, for each of us has been forbidden from diving in deep water. Our parents say it is dangerous unless one of them is with us.
May brought his dog and tied it up nearby. The water was deliciously cool, but we sprang out when we heard a commotion of splashing and barking. A wily crocodile had seen the dog drinking and snapped it up in his enormous jaws.
Having lost the dog, we all had to admit our narrow escape when we got home, and each of us was beaten. It was not for the loss of the dog (which May’s father considers an offering to the crocodile god, Sobek), but for our disobedience.
Twenty-first day
On the way to school today, I heard oxen lowing far from the marshes where they usually graze. In the sky, hundreds of birds circled, screaming almost as loudly as the herd below were mooing. I went to see what could be the cause of such a racket.
It was the farmers planting seed corn. As they scattered it, their children walked behind, shooing away the birds, but still many swooped down to peck at the seeds. Their feast continued until the farmers called on the herdsmen to whip their oxen across the field and stomp the seeds into the mud.
The herdsmen were easy to pick out: They stood apart, and had stubbly chins and shaven heads. They appeared awkward in their badly tied loincloths and spoke little. Alone in the wetlands, they need no clothes and have only their beasts and the fish for company.
Twenty-third day
I came home from school yesterday along the river. Moored at the wharf were several big ships of a kind new to me. Unlike riverboats, these ships were plain at the back, instead of having carved rear posts. One was filled with logs. The others carried cargoes of jars.
On the nearest ship was a boy of about my age. He did not wear his hair in a sidelock, so I guessed he was foreign. When I walked past, he greeted me with an insult so rude that I dare not write it down. However, he smiled as he shouted, so I smiled back and asked him how he knew our language. “Because I speak ALL languages,” he replied, and cursed me in five more ways, each one different.
He said he had sailed from the port of Byblos with his two brothers. They had a cargo of oil and wine, which they would barter here in Memphis for grain and linen.
He pulled me onto the ship by my arm and, pouring us both a sweet drink from a jar, he told me how he had learned so many ways of talking. From Byblos, he has sailed toward the setting sun, to the island of Crete and beyond. Besides cedar and pine, his ship has carried lapis lazuli, silver, copper sheets shaped like cowhides, ostrich eggs, amber, amethyst, and fine stone to flake into shaving blades.
After we had taken another drink, his eyes grew wilder and he told me of sea monsters he had killed with his bare hands, of exploding hills that belched fire and smoke, and of how he had escaped from pirates. As I remember no more after this, I must have fallen asleep.
I awoke at dusk and found myself lying on the riverbank. The ships had gone. So, too, had my palette and brushes. Then, when I got to my feet, I found that my legs would not work properly and I had trouble getting home. When I arrived, Father sent me to bed, saying, “I will beat you tomorrow, when you will feel it more keenly.”
However, when I awoke this morning, I felt that there were stonemasons in my head, using their chisels to get out. Father decided this was punishment enough.
Twenty-fifth day
Father announced that he is to visit Saqqara tomorrow. He has already been there with the scribes who are looking into the robberies from the tombs, but now he wishes to return alone — for, as he says, “With the scribes nearby, I suspect that I see only what they want me to see.” Tamyt and I begged to go with him, for we have never been to this great city of tombs. At first he said no, but our begging wore him down.
First day of the second month of Planting
Our trip to Saqqara nearly landed Tamyt and me in jail! And it is only now — three days later — that I dare write down what happened.
When we reached the City of the Dead, I was disappointed. Though the biggest pyramid (Djoser’s) is tall and impressive, the other three are small and dull. We passed by quickly because a strong breeze from the desert was whipping up the sand and stinging our legs. There was more shelter among the other tombs, which surround the bigger pyramids like buildings in a town.
All the robbed tombs seemed alike, so after we had seen the first few with father, Tamyt and I began to chase each other through the narrow alleys between them. We enjoyed this game so much that we did not notice the breeze becoming a storm. By then, all we could do was find shelter. Sand choked and half blinded us and matted our hair. We crept through a doorway and huddled together.
After what seemed like hours, the wind died down. I could smell smoke and saw that flickering flames lit up the painted walls of the tomb where we were sheltering. Four men stood around a ladder that led down to the underground burial chambers. They were gathering up beautiful jewelry and golden decorations broken off from furniture. I heard one hiss, “Hurry! We have been too long. The moon is high. It is near the time we told the guards to come.”
Tamyt and I scurried to the darkest corner so they would not see us. When the men slunk past our hiding place, Tamyt shrank back, and I saw why when I followed her eyes. A torch lit up the hand of the man carrying it, and he had only three fingers! On one finger was a gold ring engraved with signs.
I glimpsed the ring for just a moment before they hurried off into the night. When they had gone, I ran to the ladder and started to climb down. Tamyt called, “Nakht! No!” but then she climbed down after me. A sweet smell filled the tunnel, and the glow from tiny lamps led away to where it forked. Tamyt grabbed me and whispered that we should turn back, but I broke free and followed the lamps down the left tunnel.
Where the narrow corridor grew wider, the scent was overpowering. Tamyt’s whispers rose to a shriek, “Look!” The burial chamber was in chaos, and the brightly painted coffin lid was split in two. I lit a splinter and held it up. It blazed just long enough for us to glimpse into the coffin at a shiny black face. The tomb robbers had ripped off the mummy’s linen strips to get at jewelry bound between them. It was the sweet smell of the funeral ointments that filled the tunnels.
There was another horror to follow: we heard footsteps on the ladder! I grabbed Tamyt, and we scarcely had time to slip into the shadow of another dark chamber before bright torches lit up the tunnel. It was not the robbers returning but the cemetery guards. Tamyt and I thought the guards would search everywhere and find us, but instead the two men merely glanced around, then climbed out. It was as if they had expected to discover the robbery.
As soon as they had left, we rushed to the foot of the shaft, but the ladder had gone. We could see its end high above us — far out of reach.
Father came after daybreak. His voice calling our names woke us, and when we replied, he lowered the ladder. We climbed out, and I was sure this time I would get a beating, but instead he just looked tired and relieved.
I sat in front of him as we rode home in our second-best chariot. “When the wind dropped last night, it was too dark to find you on my own,” he told us. “I could not ask the guards for help because I should not have been there myself.”
I remember no more of what he said, for I fell asleep. Both Tamyt and I had been too afraid to get much sleep as uninvited guests in the underground tomb.
Fourth day
Today I did not go to school. I stayed home with Tamyt, for Father wanted to know what we had seen at Saqqara.
We told him everything we could remember. When he heard about the three-fingered man and his ring, he urged us to tell him what the ring looked like. I could remember there was an owl carved on it, and a grain store. But there were other signs as well, and no matter how hard I tried, I could not remember what they were. Worse than this, Father asked, “Which finger was missing?” and neither of us knew. Of course, losing a finger is not unusual: few quarrymen have all eight.
Father thanked us for our help, but I could tell that he wished we had noticed more.
Tenth day
These past days I have been unable to write, for my left arm has been quite useless. Returning from school a few days ago, May and I stopped by the river, where there is a rope hanging from a tree. May swung on the rope and landed nimbly on his feet. Then he challenged me to do the same. I leaped and clung to the rope as he had, and it carried me high into the air. But as I swung back, I lost my grip, and the ground rushed up toward me. I put out my arm, but the ground was stronger and my arm snapped like a twig.
May laughed at first, but when he realized how badly I was hurt, his eyes filled with fear. He helped me home, and as soon as Mother saw me, she sent Ahmose for the Sunu.
Though he does not usually see patients in the afternoon, the Sunu came immediately, for Ahmose made my injuries sound far worse than they really were. Once he had examined me, however, he sighed with relief, saying, “The boy has only a broken arm.” Then he commanded Ahmose to cut down a tree branch about one cubit long and a hand thick.
When Ahmose returned, the Sunu took the stick and, with a knife, cut the bark from it. Then he poured honey where my skin was broken and wrapped the bark around it. Finally he tied the bark up so I could not move my arm. While doing all this, he recited a magic spell to heal me.
Finally the Sunu brought out a tiny jar shaped like the head of a poppy. He mixed the powder in it with water and made me sip it. This bitter medicine slowly made the pain in my head and arm go away and then sent me to sleep.
Thirteenth day
To help me write, Tamyt has set out my palette and fetched water for me. There is nothing really worth writing about. But for the practice (and because I am so BORED), I will describe the things that go on in the house.
Today I watched Ahmose and the others make bread. They were making a lot, so they kneaded the dough with their feet in a big jar. Ahmose threatened to make me do it. “It is only your arm that is broken,” she said, “so your legs can do some work!”
I watched them cook the bread in the oven in the yard. They baked little triangular loaves to offer the gods at a festival and half-baked loaves that they will break up tomorrow to make into beer. We ate some flat loaves that Ahmose had made with dinner.
Fourteenth day
My arm feels much better. Perhaps writing practice helps it? The women ground wheat today. I had not realized how much time it takes. Each had a turn at the stone, except for the eldest, whose back and knees are worn out from the grinding. Unless one of them works at the stone all the time while the sun shines, there will not be enough flour for tomorrow’s bread. To lighten the work, they sang songs and gossiped as they rocked back and forth.
First day of the third month of the season of Planting
My arm is much improved now and tomorrow is the feast day of Nut. To celebrate, we are going to the Delta for three days’ hunting.
Third day
Though we set off from home before dawn yesterday, we did not arrive here until after dusk. The mosquitoes began feasting on us before we had even moored our boat, and my face already has a million bites.
Today our Uncle Sety took our three cousins, Tamyt, and me to hunt duck. We laid down two framed nets in shallow water. Then we hid, each taking hold of a draw rope. When the birds were over the nets, Sety signaled we should all pull together so the nets clapped over the birds. But we pulled in such a rush we all fell over!
Fourth day
Today we saw a hippopotamus hunt! The people who live here want to kill the beast because it has been destroying their crops. What it does not eat, the hippopotamus tramples flat, so whole fields can be lost in a single night.
The farmers gathered on the bank this morning, having armed themselves with harpoons — spears with cruel hooks at their tips and ropes tied to their ends. We did not dare go too close but followed after them in our wooden boat.
After an hour, we guessed that they had spotted the hippo, for all the hunters suddenly stood upright on their boats and became silent. From a distance, though, we could not see their quarry. All that a sleeping hippo shows above the water are his eyes, ears, and nostrils.
The hunt leader paddled closer, slowly and warily. I held my breath as he raised his harpoon, then hurled it with all his might at the beast. The point glanced off the hippopotamus’s thick hide, which angered him mightily. He opened his vast mouth and let out such a loud roar that, all around us, birds took flight and the air was filled with wing beats and frightened screeches.
The other hunters hurled their harpoons. One managed to thrust his so hard that it stuck in the beast’s thick hide. The hippopotamus vanished beneath the water. The man who had speared it tied the harpoon’s rope to his boat, but it pulled the boat through the water at such speed the hunter’s fear was plain to see. Eventually he was forced to cut the rope. The hunt was over — for today, at least.
Seventh day of the fourth month of the season of Planting
At school today, May told me his brother has learned that the king’s army has just returned from a mighty journey to the land of Punt. He said that the Queen of Punt is so fat that she cannot walk, that the soldiers carried whole ships across the desert and back, that they brought back a mountain of incense, gold, elephant tusks, skins of spotted cats bigger than men, and black wood that is as hard as stone. I might have believed him if the story had not been so fantastic, but it was obviously all lies.
Ninth day
Tamyt has thought of a brilliant way to find out who the tomb robbers are. She says we should ask the gods. “When there is a festival, the priests carry a god through the street,” she reminded me. “You can write a question on a piece of pottery and then, when the priests stop to rest, you can place it before the god. If the answer is yes, the bearers will move forward. If no, they move back.”
This seemed like a good idea to me at first, but we could not think of a way to ask our question so the god could answer with a simple yes or no.
Then I remembered that May’s brother is a priest at the temple of the god Ptah. Perhaps if he asked the question, Ptah would say more than just yes or no? Tamyt agreed that we should ask, so I wrote on my best, squarest piece of limestone:
“Great and glorious god Ptah,
how can we catch the tomb robbers?”
I wrapped it in a piece of cloth to give to May.
Thirteenth day
Yesterday, after school, May took Tamyt and me to meet his brother at the temple. Normally I hurry past the tall gateway, in case the god inside should see me passing and become angry. So when we got there, I was scared at first, but May walked straight in and waved to us to follow. His brother was sitting beyond, in the courtyard. It is HUGE. It seems at least twice as big on the inside as it is
outside! Beyond the courtyard, there is a covered area held up by columns. Each is as tall as a palm tree, and much thicker, and there are hundreds of them.
May’s brother led us among them, and when my eyes got used to the darkness, I saw colorful carvings on the wall. May whispered that they showed the king worshipping the gods.
When we had walked around once, I asked if our question had been answered. May’s brother first said, “I could not ask the god myself, for I am not yet a full priest, so I gave it to one who may approach the god.”
“And did he answer?” Tamyt asked.
“Of course. Ptah is all-knowing, but sometimes his replies are puzzling . . .” he said, then paused.
Now I was becoming impatient, too, but did not dare interrupt him again.
“The god answered your question,” he said at last, and handed it back to me wrapped in a linen bag. “Ptah says . . . that Anubis, the god of the dead, may not act at once, but those who offend him cannot escape his anger in the end.”
As we left the temple, Tamyt and I argued about what this meant. But as we could not agree, we walked on in silence. When we got home, she said, “It feels like we asked Ptah for sweet dates and he has given us only their stones. It would have been better to have no answer at all.”
Third day of the first month of the season of Heat
Today I saw Father for the first time in three days, for he has been busy organizing the harvest. This year, he says, the god Min has smiled on us. When the harvest yield is safely stored in granaries, nobody need starve — even if the river does not flood for five years in a row.
At school we learned that the assessor scribes work out how much grain each farmer should have grown by using the sizes of the fields that the surveyors measured and the height of the last flood. I asked what would happen if rats stole a farmer’s grain and he could not pay what was expected from him. Our teacher told me that he would have to borrow or pay in some other way, or he would get a painful beating on the soles of his feet. I said this was not very fair, but he corrected me: “This is how it has always been done, and anyway, it keeps farmers from hiding the grain and makes sure they are eager to kill any rats that might eat it.”
Egyptian Diary Page 2