Twelfth day
Today we went out from the city to meet the Overseer of Fields and to watch the start of the harvest. There was a ceremony to honor the harvest god, Min, and then the Overseer cut the first of the grain in the field. The Overseer is not a fit man, so by the time he had cut just one armful, he was red and sweating. The harvesters teased him, saying, “Go on, cut some more. Don’t be shy.”
Then they set to work, keeping time with help from a singer and a village girl who played the flute. As the reapers cut, others stacked. Meanwhile the assessor scribes again measured the fields to make sure that the boundary stones had not been moved.
As the villagers harvested each field, they loaded the crops onto the backs of donkeys to take them for threshing.
The threshing floor has a raised circle of baked mud to stop the grain from spreading. Three oxen walk in circles on the crop. Their hooves break the seed heads from their stalks and remove the seeds’ tough coats. Women then take the grain for winnowing. They throw the grain in the air and the breeze blows away the useless chaff, and the good grain falls to the ground.
The threshing and winnowing will go on for days, but before sunset there was already a heap of grain taller than I am. The scribes watched as two sacks were filled with great ceremony. Then, with more prayers to Min, they carried the sacks on donkeys back to the city. One sack went into the common granary; the other was stored to sow as seed next planting season.
Twentieth day
Today the women finished a length of linen that they had been weaving for a month. Tamyt and Mother cut it from the loom and carefully rolled it. They then spent the WHOLE afternoon talking about what they will get in exchange for the cloth. Tamyt wants to barter it for a chair, “So that I do not have to squat on the floor like a servant when we eat.” But Mother wants to use it to pay the rent on our fields.
The argument did not end until it was time to prepare dinner, when the two of them were too busy bossing the cooks around (and too hot from the fire) to talk anymore.
Twenty-second day
This morning I went to the craftsmen’s quarter of town, but not with Father. Instead, I followed another scribe, an Overseer of Goldsmiths. He keeps track of the workers who use gold and silver — and those who use copper and bronze, for these metals are scarce too.
At the workshops we visited, he weighed each piece of jewelry and every other object the goldsmiths had made. He had a record of how much metal the craftsmen had received, and with some clever calculation, he judged how much metal had been wasted. “In this way,” he told me, “I can be sure that a worker is not taking home even the tiniest shavings of precious gold.”
Twenty-third day
I returned once more to the craftsmen’s quarter with the Overseer of Goldsmiths. This time we visited five scorching factories. Everywhere we went there seemed to be a fire pit to melt metal. Beside each one, a filthy boy stood fanning the fire with a foot bellows until it roared louder than the wind from the desert and burned hotter than the sun. By the last factory, I had decided that overseeing metals was not the kind of work I wished to do.
My guide must have noticed my discomfort, for he soon took me to visit some other workshops. In one street alone, we visited painters, potters, workers of leather, and carvers of stone vessels. Each workshop was a surprise, for although I have often seen what they make in these places, I have never seen how they make it.
We passed quickly through the potters’ yard, as this had another searing furnace in it for baking pots. However, we stayed long enough for me to notice that the workers themselves were like living pots: the mud with which they worked covered them from head to foot! I kept glancing at their eyes to remind myself that there were people inside their muddy skins.
The stone-vessel makers were likewise covered, but with dry dust from the rock they cut. This same dust made the older ones cough and spit without ceasing. Their work is the most tiresome of all: to hollow out a jar or bottle, they must turn a drill a million times or more until the walls are thin enough for light to shine through. The outside they shape with bronze chisels. Then they polish the jars with sand and mud.
The tanning yard, which we visited last, was by far the worst. The loudest sound there was the buzz of flies, which feed on the fresh animal skins waiting to be treated. I cannot describe the smell. The stench of drying hides mingles with the reek of the urine that fills the pits where they soak and soften. . . . Worst of all, the tanners walk in these vats of filth, treading the hides! No wonder their houses are outside the city wall. The smell clung to me so strongly that when I returned home, I was not allowed in the house until I had taken off all my clothes and washed from head to toe — twice.
First day of the second month of Heat
Something so incredible has happened that I cannot make my brush shape the letters fast enough! But I know I must not hurry. Unless I write down everything from the beginning, I will spoil the end of the tale — just as a roast duck spoils if the fire is too hot.
Yesterday began normally enough, but we knew that in the evening the Controller of Granaries would be coming to eat with us. So from the moment the sun rose, Father was asking nervously about the food and other arrangements. After a hundred questions, Tamyt and Mother refused to answer any more, and they bustled off to organize the meal.
This took all day (and indeed, the fussing had begun a week ago). There was more food than I have ever seen. Besides a delicious ox head, there were birds’ eggs and both fresh and pickled fish. Ahmose strangled and plucked some of the ducks in the garden, where they have been fattening ever since we finally trapped them in the Delta.
The Controller of Granaries arrived an hour late. He arrived in a procession fit for a priest. Though Father was furious at his lateness, we all bowed low to him anyway. When we gathered to eat, Father said I had to sit next to him. I thought this very odd, for I normally sit with Tamyt, but Father stared hard at me, as he does only when he is about to be cross, so I sat down.
At dinner, we talked about the tomb robberies. The Controller said that the robbers had killed a man who discovered them at work. When Tamyt heard this, her eyes grew wide with alarm at our narrow escape. The conversation ended with Father saying, “Don’t worry, sir. I feel we are close to solving the mystery.” The Controller simply nodded with his head down, but he looked up suddenly when Father continued, “The answer has been staring me in the face all the time.”
When we were ready to eat fruit, the Controller of Granaries picked up a fig and held it in his left hand to peel it. The light from the lamp fell on his ring, and I saw that it was just like the ring the tomb robber had worn at Saqqara! I jumped up and pointed. “The ring!” I gasped. “It’s carved with the same symbols!” The cup I had been holding fell to the floor and smashed, and Mother came and slapped my hand. She pushed me to sit down, hissing, “Now, apologize!” in my ear.
I made an excuse, and the meal went on, but after this slip, I thought the Controller of Granaries looked at me very strangely: never directly, but out of the corner of his eye.
But there was another shock to come. When it was time for the Controller to go, I watched his servants help him down the steps. I gazed at their muscular arms, down to where their big hands gripped their master’s arms to assist him. It was then that I noticed that one of them had a finger missing, like the tomb robber we saw at the City of the Dead!
I might have been mistaken about the ring, but this time I was sure. I jumped forward and grabbed the servant’s arm, shouting, “It’s him! He’s a tomb robber!”
Tamyt ran forward to help me, but the robber was quicker. He let go of the Controller of Granaries — who lost his balance and sprawled down the steps — and pushed us roughly away. In a few long bounds, he had reached the garden wall. Without looking to see what lay beyond, he vaulted straight over it and escaped into the street. I ran after him, but his long legs had taken him out of sight even before I heard the gate slam shut behind me.
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By the time I got back to the house, everyone was inside again. The Controller sat defiantly on a chair, but his servants stood roped together in a sulky row. To get the city guard to take them away and lock them up, Father had to agree to take the blame for any trouble the Controller might cause and promise each guard a fat goose and two cubits of linen.
And so it was that Tamyt and I caught the tomb robbers — in our own house!
Fourth day of the second month of Heat
Since the arrest of the Controller of Granaries, everyone in Memphis seems to know us. People I have never seen before greet me by name in the street. Strangers stand and point at our house.
Sixth day
Our house is soon to have a new room! Mother and Father will sleep in it; Tamyt will have their old room, I will move into hers, Ahmose will sleep in my old room, and the wall of her room will be knocked through into the stable. Thus we shall have space for another ass.
Eighth day
The Vizier, the king’s most important official, arrived in Memphis today to question the Controller of Granaries.
Father said that the Controller denied everything at first and angrily demanded to be released. However, he seemed less sure of himself when the Vizier suggested they go to visit his house, which has been sealed since his arrest.
It took a whole day’s searching to find the stolen treasures. Indeed they might never have been found if the Vizier had not asked for a drink of water. The sharpeyed guard who went to the well noticed a scraping of gold on a stone at its edge. Lowering himself on the well rope, he discovered, halfway down, a hidden chamber filled with tomb ornaments.
Eleventh day
Today I went with Father into the fields to escape the crowds and heat in town. He wanted to see a machine that a farmer had built by the river to bring water to his crops. The name of this machine is shaduf, but a better name would be “stork,” for it looks just like that bird drinking from the river.
The action of the machine was very simple. The farmer pulled down on the rope to lower the bucket into the water. When it was full, the weight of the lump of clay on the other end lifted the heavy bucket out of the water as if it weighed nothing! Finally the farmer tipped the water into a trough that slopes toward his field.
Our curiosity was soon satisfied, and we sat down in the shade of a tree and discussed the tomb robberies and the Controller of Granaries.
“The robbers broke into only the richest tombs,” Father explained, “and when the officials hurried me around Saqqara, I began to suspect they were protecting someone important. When you told me about the short time the guards spent at the tomb, it convinced me that these were not ordinary tomb robbers.”
I asked him how he guessed the Controller of Granaries was involved, and he scratched his head thoughtfully. “Well, you said that there were hieroglyphs of an owl and a granary on the tomb robber’s ring. Those are the symbols for a controller of granaries. Members of the household might wear them too. Of course, there are several controllers of granaries. But only one of them recently bought a very large house, much larger than you would expect for a man of his importance. I knew he wouldn’t rob tombs himself, so I guessed he sent his servants. I thought you or Tamyt might recognize the scoundrels again if you could get close enough. So I needed an occasion at which the Controller could show off. I threw a banquet, and sure enough, he brought his whole entourage.”
I didn’t know what an entourage was, but I didn’t want to interrupt.
“I wasn’t sure how the evening would unfold,” he continued, “but we caught them — even the three-fingered man did not escape the guards for long.”
When I asked him what would happen to the Controller, he did not reply but got up and said, “Come, it’s cooler now. Let’s go home.”
Sixteenth day
Yesterday, the work to extend our house began. The builders started by making bricks. They did this faster than I would have believed possible. One man mixed dirt, straw, and water while two more poured the mixture into wooden molds. Then they knocked out the blocks to dry in the sun.
I was curious to know why they add straw to the mud, so I asked the overseer, Mekhu, what its purpose was. Instead of explaining, he called over one of his men, who led me to a pile of mud that lacked straw. He showed me how to fill a mold (though more of the mud ended up on me than in the brick) and turn it out. Finally he pressed my hand into the mud to mark the brick as my own, saying, “We would not want to make your bricks part of our wall.” He told me to return when the bricks were dry.
Eighteenth day
Early this morning, a grand messenger arrived. Father thought it was an urgent message for him, but to his amazement, the messenger (who wore the king’s cartouche) asked for Tamyt and me. He read from a papyrus scroll and informed us that in order to honor our capture of the tomb robbers, we were commanded to appear before the king at Thebes in a month’s time! I could not believe it! I hugged Tamyt and rushed out to tell May.
Twentieth day
Our new room is already half built. The men who were brick-makers are now brick-layers. They lay the bricks row upon row, fastening them together with more mud. The lowest part of the wall is not of brick but stone, because were it made entirely of mud brick, our whole house would collapse if the river rose too high.
The corners of the walls are made of stone too, as these are most easily damaged. The doorways and window edges are made of squared timber for strength.
Twenty-first day
Two tailors are at work on outfits for our visit to the palace! We shall both wear pleated kilts, and Tamyt will also wear a tunic. She has tried this on already, and complains that it is so tight she can hardly move her legs. We must also wear shoes. Mine made my feet sore, but Ahmose greased the strap between the toes and now they are not so bad.
Twenty-second day
Yesterday morning, Mekhu’s workers carried tree trunks up from the river and split them in half with wooden wedges. In the cool of the evening (though with much groaning, cursing, and sweating) they lifted the trees to the top of the wall and laid them side by side. Today they covered the logs with palm matting and then with a layer of bricks, sealing it all with a wash of mud.
I know now why bricks need straw. Mekhu put my brick on the ground and beckoned to his heaviest worker to stand on it. The brick crumbled in a moment. Yet it took the weight of two men to crush a brick with straw. “You see,” he told me, “apart, mud and straw are like lone soldiers: they are weak. But a properly made brick is stronger than either straw or mud, just as warriors are stronger when they join together as an army.”
Twenty-third day
Our new room is almost complete. Hieroglyphics at its base spell out, “Mekhu built me,” but this is false. Mekhu sat in the shade drinking palm wine while his sunburned slaves were working. The builders will lime-wash the walls brilliant white tomorrow. However, I will not see the room finished for a month or more because tomorrow morning, I leave for Thebes with Father and Tamyt!
Eighth day of the third month of Heat
At last we are in Thebes! For the boatmen, sailing upriver against the current is much harder than traveling downriver. The boatmen were always adjusting the sails so we could travel as fast as the wind allowed. And this was NEVER fast enough for me. Sometimes our boat moved so slowly that people walking on the bank passed us by.
Eleventh day
Around dawn this morning, I heard a wild commotion coming from the river. By climbing a palm tree in the garden, I could get a view of the harbor. At first I saw only distant masts, but when the ships came closer, I heard the sound of drums and trumpets, and I realized it must be the king’s army returning from Punt, just as May’s brother had reported. Tamyt and I slipped out and hurried down to the dockside for a better look.
There we could see nothing, for EVERYONE from the city wanted to do the same. But from the top of a wall, we watched the ships unload. We did not need to ask what was in the first, for a
s it drew up at the dockside, the smell of myrrh and frankincense was so strong that it overpowered (for a moment at least) the stinking gutters of Thebes.
Next came — in three boats — a forest! I would not have believed this had I not seen it with my own eyes. To the astonishment of all who watched, ten trees of two kinds, complete with roots, were lifted from each boat. (Later I crushed in my hand a leaf that had fallen from one of the trees, and it smelled of myrrh.)
Behind the trees came great lengths of timber, as black as the darkest night, and after that, shining white elephants’ teeth — longer than a man is tall. And following these were the skins of spotted cats as big as cattle. Perhaps some of what May told me was true.
Last to come ashore were soldiers. Foot soldiers with spears and shields led them. They carried weapons I had not seen before: long, curved, metal war swords, polished to a fine shine. (If farmers had these for cutting barley instead of a row of flint blades, the harvest would take half as long to reap!) Behind them marched black-skinned Nubian archers, carrying their bows unstrung.
Later we found out that we had missed the greatest sight of all! The king himself had been on the far side of the dock to receive the gifts from Punt. We also learned news of this strange and distant place, including the fact that the Queen of Punt must be carried wherever she goes because she is so fat!
Egyptian Diary Page 3