The Egyptian

by Mika Waltari

  Eie threw a gold ring from his arm toward him, saying carelessly, “You may call upon me some time at the golden house, spearman.”

  But Horemheb let the gold ring fall in the sand at his feet and looked defiantly at Eie.

  “I take my orders from Pharaoh, and if I am not mistaken, Pharaoh is he who bears the royal headdress. The falcon led me to him, and that is sign enough.”

  Eie remained unruffled.

  “Gold is costly and is always of use,” he remarked. He picked up the gold ring and put it back upon his arm. “Make your obeisance to Pharaoh, but you must lay aside your spear in his presence.”

  The prince stepped forward. His face was pale and drawn but lighted still by a secret ecstasy that warmed my heart.

  “Follow me,” he said, “follow me, all of you, upon the new way, for the truth has been revealed to me.”

  We walked with him to the chair, though Horemheb mumbled to himself, “Truth lies in my spear.” The porters set off at a trot to where the boat awaited us alongside the landing stage. We returned as we had come, unobserved, though the people stood packed outside the palace walls.

  We were allowed to enter the prince’s room, and he showed us big Cretan jars upon which were painted fish and other creatures. Word came that the Queen Mother was on her way to make her obeisance to him, so he gave us leave to go, promising to remember us both. When we had left him, Horemheb said to me in perplexity, “I am at a loss. I have nowhere to go.”

  “Stay here with an easy mind,” I counseled him. “He promised to remember you, and it is as well to be at hand when he does. The gods are capricious and quickly forget.”

  “Stay here and buzz around with these flies?” he demanded, pointing to the courtiers who were swarming at the prince’s door. “No, I have good reason to be uneasy,” he went on somberly. “What is to become of an Egypt whose ruler is afraid of blood and believes that all nations and languages and colors are of equal merit? I was born a warrior, and my warrior sense tells me that such notions bode ill for such a man as I.”

  We parted, and I bade him ask for me at the House of Life if ever he needed a friend.

  Ptahor was waiting for me in our room, red eyed and irritable.

  “You were absent when Pharaoh drew his last breath at dawn,” he growled. “You were absent, and I slept; and neither of us was there to see Pharaoh’s soul fly from his nostrils straight into the sun, like a bird.”

  I told him what had happened that night, and he raised his hands in great astonishment.

  “Ammon keep us! Then the new Pharaoh is mad.”

  “I think not,” said I doubtfully. “I think he has knowledge of a new god. When his head has cleared, we may see wonders in the land of Kem.”

  “Ammon forbid! Pour me out some wine, for my throat is as dry as roadside dust.”

  Shortly after this we were conveyed under guard to a pavilion in the House of Justice, where the Keeper of the Seal read the law to us from a leather scroll and told us that we must die since Pharaoh did not recover after his skull had been opened. I looked at Ptahor, but he only smiled when the executioner stepped forward with his sword.

  “Let the stauncher of blood go first,” he said. “He is in a greater hurry than we are, for his mother is already preparing pease pottage for him in the Western Land.”

  The stauncher of blood took a warm farewell of us, made the holy sign of Ammon, and knelt meekly on the floor before the leather scrolls. The executioner swung his sword in a great arc above the head of the condemned man, till it sang in the air, but stopped short as the edge just touched the back of his neck. But the blood stauncher fell to the floor, and we thought he had swooned from terror, for there was not the smallest scratch upon him. When my turn came, I knelt without fear; the executioner laughed and touched my neck with his blade without troubling to frighten me more. Ptahor considered he was too short to be required to kneel, and the executioner swung his sword over his neck, too. So we died, the law was accomplished, and we were given new names engraved in heavy gold rings. In Ptahor’s ring was written “He Who Is Like a Baboon” and in mine “He Who Is Alone.” Then Ptahor’s present was weighed out to him in gold and mine also, and we were clad in new robes. For the first time I wore a pleated robe of royal linen and a collar heavy with silver and precious stones. When the servants tried to lift the blood stauncher and revive him, they found him stone dead. I saw this with my own eyes and can vouch for its truth. But why he died I do not know, unless from the mere expectation. Simple though he may be, a man who can arrest the flow of blood is not like other men.

  Henceforth, being officially dead, I could not sign my name as Sinuhe without adding He Who Is Alone, and at court I could be known by no other name.

  2

  When I went back to the House of Life in my new clothes and with the gold ring on my arm, my teachers bowed before me. Yet I was still a pupil and had to write a detailed account of Pharaoh’s operation and death, attesting it with my name. I spent much time over this and ended with a description of the soul of Pharaoh flying from his nostrils in the shape of a bird and passing straight into the sun. Later I had the satisfaction of hearing my report read to the people on each of the seventy days during which Pharaoh’s body was being prepared for immortality. During the whole of this period of mourning all pleasure houses, wine shops, and taverns in Thebes were closed so that to buy wine or hear music one had to enter by the back door.

  But when these seventy days had passed, I learned that I was now a qualified physician and might start to practice in whatever quarter of the city I chose. If on the other hand I preferred to pursue my studies in one or other of the special branches-among the dentists or ear doctors, for instance, or the obstetricians, layers-on-of-hands, surgeons, or in any other of the fourteen different subjects in which instruction was given at the House of Life-I need only choose my branch. This was a special mark of favor, testifying how amply Ammon rewarded his servants.

  I was young, and the learning in the House of Life no longer absorbed me. I had been seized with the fever of Thebes; I desired wealth and fame; I desired to profit by the period of my fame among the people. With the gold I had received I purchased a small house on the outskirts of the fashionable quarter, furnished it according to my means, and bought a slave-a scraggy fellow with one eye, but good enough for me. His name was Kaptah. He assured me that his one eye was my good fortune, for now he could tell my would-be patients in the waiting room that he had been stone blind when I had bought him and that I had given him back partial sight. I had pictures painted on the walls of the waiting room. In one of these Imhotep the Wise, the god of doctors, was shown giving me instruction. I was painted small before him, as the custom is, but below the picture was an inscription that ran thus:

  Wisest and most skillful of thy disciples is Sinuhe, Son of Senmut, He Who Is Alone.

  Another picture showed me making sacrifice to Ammon, that I might be seen to do him honor and win the confidence of my patients. But in a third, great Pharaoh looked down upon me from the heavens in the shape of a bird, while his servants weighed out gold for me and clothed me in new robes.

  I commissioned Thothmes to do these paintings for me although he was not an authorized artist and his name did not appear in the book in the temple of Ptah. But he was my friend, and because of his work those who looked upon the pictures for the first time raised their hands in astonishment, saying, “In truth he inspires faith, this Sinuhe, son of Senmut, He Who Is Alone, and will surely cure all his patients bv his skill.”

  When all was ready, I sat down to await the sick. I sat for a long time, but none came. In the evening I went to a wine shop, having still a little gold and silver left from Pharaoh’s gifts. I was young and fancied myself a clever doctor; I had no misgivings about the future and together with Thothmes made good cheer over my wine. In loud voices we discussed the affairs of the Two Kingdoms, for everywhere-in the market, before the merchants’ houses, in the taverns and pleasure
houses-such matters were vigorously debated by all at this time.

  It had come to pass as the old Keeper of the Seal had foretold. When the body of great Pharaoh had been made proof against death and attended to its resting place in the Valley of the Kings, where the doors of the tomb had been sealed with the royal seal, the Queen Mother ascended the throne bearing in her hands the scourge and the crook. Upon her chin was the beard of sovereignty and the lion’s tail was about her waist. The heir was not yet crowned Pharaoh, and it was said that he desired to purify himself and perform his devotions to the gods before he assumed power. But when the Queen Mother dismissed the old Keeper of the Seal and raised Eie, the unknown priest, to honor at her right hand so that he surpassed in rank all the illustrious men of Egypt-then the temple of Ammon hummed like a beehive, there were ill omens, and misfortune attended the royal sacrifices. The priests interpreted many strange dreams that men had had. Winds veered from their usual quarter against all the laws of nature, and there was rain for two days running in the land of Egypt. Merchandise standing at the wharves suffered damage, and grain rotted. Certain pools on the outskirts of Thebes were turned to blood, and many went to see them. But the people were not yet afraid, for such things had happened in every age when the priests. were angered. Though there was unrest and much empty talk, the mercenaries at the barracks-Egyptians, Syrians, Negroes, and Shardanas-were given lavish presents by the Queen Mother, and good order was maintained. The might of Egypt was undisputed; in Syria it was upheld by the. garrisons, and the princes of Byblos, Smyrna, Sidon, and Gaza-who in their childhood had dwelt at Pharaoh’s feet and grown up in the golden house-mourned his death as if he had been their father, and wrote letters to the Queen in which they declared themselves dust beneath her feet.

  The King of the land of Mitanni, in Naharani, sent his daughter as a bride to the new Pharaoh as his father had done before him and as had been agreed with the celestial Pharaoh before his death. Tadu- khipa, for such was her name, arrived in Thebes with servants and slaves and asses laden with merchandise of great value. She was a child just six years old, and the prince took her to wife, for the kingdom of Mitanni was a wall between the wealth of Syria and the lands of the north, and guarded the caravan routes all the way from the land of the twin rivers to the sea. Rejoicing ceased among the priests of Se- khmet, the celestial daughter of Ammon, and the hinges of her temple gates were rusted fast.

  It was of this we spoke, Thothmes and I; we rejoiced our hearts with wine as we listened to Syrian music and watched the dancing girls. The fever of the city was in my blood; yet each morning my one-eyed servant came to my bedside deferentially and brought me bread and a salt fish and filled my beaker with ale. Then I would wash myself and sit down to await my patients, to listen to their woes and to heal them.

  3

  It was floodtime. The waters had risen as high as to the temple walls, and when they sank again, the land sprouted forth in tender green, birds built their nests, and lotus flowers blossomed in the pools amid the perfume of acacias. One day Horemheb came to my house and greeted me. He was dressed in royal linen with a gold chain about his neck. In his hand he carried a whip denoting that he was an officer in Pharaoh’s household. But now he held no spear.

  “I come for counsel, Sinuhe the Lonely,” said he.

  “What can you mean? You are as strong as a bull and as bold as a lion. There is nothing a doctor can do for you.”

  “I ask you as a friend not as a physician,” he said sitting down. Kaptah poured water over his hands, and I offered him cakes my mother Kipa had sent me and wine from the harbor, for my heart rejoiced at the sight of him.

  “You have been promoted then. You are now an officer of the household and no doubt the light of all women’s eyes.”

  His face darkened. “And what filth it all is! The palace is full of. flies that blow on me. The Theban streets are hard and hurt my feet, and my sandals chafe them sore.”

  He kicked off the sandals and rubbed his toes. “I am an officer in the bodyguard, yes-but some of the officers are ten-year-olds whose side locks are still unshorn, and because of their high birth they laugh at me and mock me. Their arms have not strength to draw the bowstring, and their swords are gold and silver toys; they might cut meat with them but never strike down an enemy. The soldiers drink and lie with the household slave girls and are without discipline. In the military school they read outdated treatises-they have never seen war or known hunger and thirst or fear of the enemy.”

  He rattled the chain about his neck impatiently and went on. “What are chains and honors when they are won not in battle but in prostrations before Pharaoh? The Queen Mother has tied a beard to her chin and girded herself with the tail of a lion, but how can a warrior look up to a woman as his chief? In the days of the great Pharaohs the warrior was a man not altogether despised, but now the Thebans look upon his profession as the most contemptible of all and shut their doors to him. I waste my time. The days of my youth and strength trickle away while I study the arts of war under those who would turn and fly at the mere sound of a Negro war cry. By my falcon! Soldiers are made upon the field of battle and nowhere else, and they are tried in the clash of arms. I will stay here no longer!”

  He smote the table with his whip, overturning the wine cups, and my servant fled with a yelp of fear.

  “Horemheb, my friend-you are ill after all. Your eyes are fevered, and you are bathed in sweat.”

  “Am I not a man?” He smote his chest. “I can lift a brawny slave in either hand and crack their heads together. I can bear heavy burdens as a soldier should, I can run long distances without becoming breathless, and I fear neither hunger and thirst nor the desert sun. But all this is shameful in their eyes, and the women in the golden house admire only such men as do not need to shave; they like them with slender wrists and hairless chests and hips like girls’. They admire the ones who carry sunshades and paint their mouths red and twitter like the birds in the trees. I am despised for being strong and for having sunburned skin and hands, that show that I can work.”

  He fell silent, staring before him. At length he emptied his goblet.

  “You are alone, Sinuhe-and so am I, for I guess what is to come. I know that I was born to a high command and that one day both kingdoms will have need of me. But I can no longer bear to be alone, Sinuhe. There are sparks of fire in my heart; my throat feels tight; I cannot sleep. I must get away from Thebes-the filth stifles me, and the flies soil me.”

  Looking at me then, he said in a low voice, “Sinuhe, you are a doctor. Give me a remedy that will conquer love.”

  “That is easy. I can give you berries that when dissolved in wine will make you strong and hot as the baboon so that women sigh in your arms and roll their eyes. That is easily done.”

  “Nay, you misunderstand me, Sinuhe. There is nothing wrong with my strength. I want a remedy for folly. I want a remedy to quieten my heart-and turn it into stone.”

  “There is no such remedy. A smile-a glance from green eyes-and the physician’s arts are powerless. This I know. But the wise say that one evil spirit can be driven out by another. Whether this is true I know not-but I fancy the second might be worse than the first.”

  “What do you mean?” he demanded irritably. “I am weary of twisted phrases.”

  “Find another woman to drive the first from your heart. That is all I meant. Thebes is full of lovely, seductive women who paint their faces and wear the thinnest of linen. You may find one among them to smile upon you, being young and strong with slender limbs and a gold chain about your neck. But I do not understand what keeps you from the one you desire. Even though she be married, there is no wall too high for love to surmount. When a woman desires a man, her cunning can remove all barriers. Stories from both kingdoms prove that. The love of women is said to be as constant as the wind, blowing always and merely changing its direction. Women’s virtue, they say, is like wax and melts in the heat. So it has been and ever will be.”

&nbs
p; “She is not married,” snapped Horemheb. “You are beside the mark with your prattle of constancy and virtue. She does not even see me though I dwell under her eyes nor take my hand if I stretch it forth to help her into her chair.”

  “She is then a lady of some distinction?”

  “Vain to speak of her. She is lovelier than the moon and the stars and more remote. Truly I could more easily grasp the moon in my arms. Therefore, I must forget-therefore, I must leave Thebes or die.”

  “You have surely not fallen victim to the charms of the Queen Mother,” I exclaimed jestingly, for I wanted to make him laugh. “She is too old and fat to please a young man.”

  “And she has her priest,” returned Horemheb with contempt. “I believe they were adulterers while the king yet lived.”

  I stopped him with my raised hand and said, “You have drunk from many poisoned wells since you came to Thebes.”

  “The one I desire paints her lips and cheeks yellow red, and her oval eyes are dark, and no one has yet touched those limbs veiled by the royal linen. Her name is Baketamon, and in her veins flows the blood of the Pharaohs. Now you know all my madness, Sinuhe. But if you tell anyone or remind me of it with so much as a word, I will seek you out and slay you wherever you may be-I will put your head between your legs and throw your body on the wall.”

  I was greatly alarmed at what he said, for that a man of low birth should raise his eyes to Pharaoh’s daughter to desire her was a dire thing indeed. I answered, “No mortal may approach her. If she is to marry anyone, it will be her brother, the heir, who will raise her up to be his equal as royal consort. And thus it will be, for I read it in her eyes at the deathbed of the King when she looked at no one but her brother. I feared her as a woman whose limbs will bring no warmth to any man, and emptiness and death dwell in her glance. Depart, Horemheb, my friend; Thebes is no place for you.”