by Mika Waltari
He retorted impatiently, “All this I know better than you, and your chatter is as the buzz of flies in my ear. Let us rather return to what you said of the evil spirits, for my heart is full; and, when I have drunk wine, I long for some woman to smile at me, whoever it be. But her robe must be of royal linen; she must wear a wig and paint her lips and cheeks yellow red, and to awaken my desire her eyes must be curved like the rainbow.”
I smiled. “You say wisely. Let us therefore debate the matter like friends.”
“Listen! Among my fellow officers is one Kefta from Crete, whom I once had occasion to kick. He now respects me, and he invited me to go with him today to a reception at a house near the temple of some cat-headed god. I have forgotten the name of the god, having felt no inclination to go.”
“You mean Bast. I know the temple, and the place is in all likelihood well suited to your purpose, for light women pray much to the cat-headed one and make sacrifice to win wealthy lovers.”
“But I do not go without you, Sinuhe. I am of low birth, ignorant of behavior in Thebes and especially among the women of Thebes. You are a man of the world and were born here, and you must come with me.”
I was flushed with wine, and his confidence in me was flattering; I would not confess that my knowledge of women was as slight as his. I sent Kaptah for a carrying chair and bargained with the porters while Horemheb drank more wine to give himself courage. The men carried us to the temple of Bast. When they saw that torches and lamps burned before the doors of the house we were to visit, they began to complain loudly of their payment until Horemheb slashed at them with his whip and they fell into injured silence.
I led the way in, and no one seemed surprised at our coming. Cheerful servants poured water over our hands, and the aroma of hot dishes, of ointments and flowers, was wafted out as far as the veranda. Slaves adorned us with garlands, and we stepped boldly into the great hall.
When we had entered, I had no eyes for any but the woman who came toward us. She was clad in royal linen so that her limbs gleamed through it like the limbs of a goddess. On her head she wore a heavy blue wig, and she had much red jewelry; her eyebrows were blackened, and beneath her eyes was painted a green shadow. But greener than all green were the eyes themselves, like the Nile in the heat of summer, so that my heart was drowned in them. For this was Nefer- nefernefer, whom I had once met in the colonnade of Ammon’s great temple. She did not recognize me but smiled at Horemheb, who raised his officer’s whip in greeting. Kefta, the young Cretan, was there also; he ran up to Horemheb and embraced him, calling him his friend.
No one heeded me, and I had leisure to gaze at the sister of my heart. She was older than I remembered, and her eyes no longer smiled but were hard as green stones. They did not smile though her mouth smiled, and they rested first upon the gold chain about Horemheb’s neck. But my knees were weak as I beheld her.
There was much shouting and laughter; overturned wine jars and crushed flowers lay about the floor, and the Syrian musicians handled their instruments to such purpose that no conversation could be heard. It was evident that there had been a great deal of drinking, for one woman vomited. A servant handed her a bowl too late so that her dress was befouled and everyone laughed.
Kefta the Cretan embraced me, also, smearing salve all over my face as he did so and calling me his friend. But Nefernefernefer looked at me and said, “Sinuhe! I once knew a Sinuhe; he also was to be a physician.”
“I am that Sinuhe,” I said, looking her in the eye and trembling.
“No, you are not he.” She made a gesture of denial. “The Sinuhe I knew was a young boy with eyes as clear as a gazelle’s-but you are a man with the ways of a man. There are two furrows between your eyebrows, and your face is not smooth like his.”
I showed her the ring with the green stone that I wore on my finger, but she shook her head, pretending to be puzzled, and said, “I must be entertaining a robber in my house, who has killed that Sinuhe and stolen the ring I once gave him in token of our friendship. His name also you have stolen, and the Sinuhe who pleased me no longer lives.”
She raised her hands in the gesture of grief, and in my bitterness I took the ring from my finger and handed it to her, saying, “Take back your ring then, and I will go and vex you no longer.”
But she said, “Do not go!” and again, laying her hand lightly on my arm as she had done once before, she said softly, “Do not go!”
And I did not go though I knew that her body would burn me worse than fire and that never again could I be happy without her. Servants poured out wine for us, and wine was never more delectable in my mouth than then.
The woman who had been ill rinsed her mouth and drank more wine. Then she drew off her soiled gown and threw it down; she also removed her wig so that she was quite naked. She pressed her breasts together with her hands, telling the servants to pour wine between them, and she let any drink there who cared to. She reeled down the room laughing loudly-young, beautiful, reckless-and, pausing before Horemheb, she offered him the wine between her breasts. He bent his head and drank. When he raised it again, his face was dark, and he looked the woman in the eyes, seized her bare head in his hands, and kissed her. Everyone laughed, and the woman laughed with them. Then becoming shy all at once, she demanded a fresh gown. Servants clad her, and she put on her wig again. She sat close to Horemheb and drank no more. The Syrian musicians played on; I felt the fever of Thebes in my blood and knew that I was born to live in the sunset of the world-that nothing mattered any more as long as I might sit beside the sister of my heart and gaze on the greenness of her eyes and the redness of her lips.
Thus it was through Horemheb that I came to meet Nefernefernefer my beloved once again; but it would have been better for me if I had never met her.
4
“Is this your house?” I asked her as she sat beside me, surveying me with her hard green eyes.
“This is my house, and these are my guests. I have guests every evening, for I do not care to be alone.”
“And Metufer?” I asked, for I wished to know all, despite the pain it might cause me. She frowned a little.
“Did you not know that Metufer is dead? He died because he misused money Pharaoh had given his father for the building of a temple. Metufer died, and his father is no longer the royal master builder. Did you not know that?”
“If that is true,” I said smiling, “I can almost believe that Ammon punished him, for he mocked the name of Ammon.” I told her how Metufer and the priest had spat in the face of Ammon’s statue to wash it and how they had rubbed themselves with Ammon’s sacred ointment.
She smiled, but her eyes had a hard, distant look in them. Suddenly she said, “Why did you not come to me then, Sinuhe? If you had sought me, you would have found me. You did ill in not coming and in visiting other women with my ring on your finger.”
“I was but a boy and I feared you-but in my dreams you were my sister, Nefernefernefer, and-laugh at me if you will-I have never yet lain with any woman. I have been waiting to see you again.”
She laughed and made a gesture of disbelief.
“You are certainly lying. In your eyes I must seem an ugly old woman, and it diverts you to mock me and lie to me.” Her eyes were gay now as in other days, and she looked so much younger that my heart swelled and ached as I looked at her.
“It is true that I have never touched any woman,” I said, “but it may not be true that I have waited for you. Let me be honest. Very many women have come before me, young and old, pretty and plain, wise and simple; but I have looked upon all alike with the eye of a physician; and not one of them has stirred my heart; though why this should be I cannot tell.”
“Perhaps when you were a little boy you fell from the top of a wagon load and landed astride the shaft, so that ever since then you have been melancholy and happier alone”; and, as she laughed, she touched me lightly as no woman had ever touched me. Reply was needless, for she knew herself that what she said was un
true. She quickly withdrew her hand, whispering: “Let us drink wine together. I may yet take my pleasure with you, Sinuhe.”
We drank wine while the slaves carried some of the guests out to their chairs, and Horemheb put his arm about the woman beside him, calling her his sister. He took the gold chain from his neck and would have hung it about hers.
But she resisted and said angrily, “I am a decent woman and no harlot!” Rising, she moved away in an offended manner, but in the doorway beckoned secretly and Horemheb followed her. I saw nothing more of either of them that evening.
Those who yet remained went on drinking. They staggered about the floor tripping over stools and rattling sistra they had filched from the musicians. They embraced, calling each other brother and friend-and then fell out with blows and cries of gelding and eunuch.
I was drunk, not with wine but with the nearness of Nefernefernefer and with the touch of her hand, until at last she made a sign and the servants began to put out the lights, carry away tables and stools, and gather up the trampled garlands. Then I said to her, “I must go.”
But each word stung my heart like salt in a wound, for I dreaded losing her, and every moment not spent in her company seemed to me wasted.
“Where will you go?” she asked in feigned surprise.
“I go to keep watch tonight in the street before your house. I go to make sacrifice in every temple in Thebes, in thanksgiving to the gods that I have met you again. I go to pluck blossoms from the trees to strew in your path when you leave your house and to buy myrrh with which to anoint your door posts.”
She smiled and said, “It would be better if you did not go, for flowers and myrrh I have already. And if you go fired so with wine, you will run astray among strange women. That I will not allow.”
Her words filled me with joy. I would have seized her, but she resisted me, saying, “Stop! My servants can see us. Though I live alone, I am no contemptible woman.”
She led me out into her garden, which lay in moonlight and was filled with the scent of myrtle and acacia. The lotus flowers in the pool had closed their chalices for the night, and I saw that the edge of the pool was inlaid with colored stones. Servants poured water over our hands and brought us roast goose and fruits steeped in honey, and Nefernefernefer said, “Eat and enjoy yourself here with me, Sinuhe.”
But my throat was roughened by desire, and I could not swallow. She gave me a mocking look and ate greedily. Each time she glanced at me the moonlight was mirrored in her eyes. I would have drawn her into my arms, but she pushed me away, saying, “Do you not know why Bast, the goddess of love, is portrayed as a cat?”
“I care neither for cats nor gods,” said I, reaching out to her, my eyes blurred with desire. She pushed my hands aside.
“Quite soon you may touch me. You may lay your hands on my breast and my stomach if it will quiet you, but first you shall listen to me and learn why a woman is like a cat and why passion, too, is like a cat. Its paws are soft, but they hide claws that rip and tear and stab mercilessly into your heart. Ay, indeed, a woman is like a cat, for a cat also takes pleasure in tormenting its prey and torturing it without ever tiring of the game. Not until the creature is maimed will she devour it and then set forth to seek another victim. I tell you this because I would be honest with you; I have never wished you ill. No, I have never wished you ill,” she repeated absently, taking my hand and moving it to her breast while the other she placed in her lap. I trembled, and the tears sprang from my eyes. Then she pushed me away again.
“You may leave me now, never to return, and then I shan’t hurt you. But if you don’t go now, you can’t blame me for anything that may happen.”
She gave me time to go, but I did not. Sighing a little then as if weary of the game, she said, “So let it be. You must have what you came for, but be gentle, for I am tired, and I fear I may fall asleep on your arm.”
She took me to her room and to her couch of ivory and ebony. There, slipping off her robe, she opened her embrace to me.
It was as if my whole self were being burned away to ashes by her body.
Soon she yawned and told me, “I am very sleepy-and I must believe that you have never lain with a woman before, for you go about it very clumsily and give me no pleasure. But when a youth takes his first woman, he gives her a priceless treasure. I will ask no other present of you. But go now and let me sleep, for you have had what you came for.”
And when I sought to embrace her again, she defended herself and sent me away. I went home with a body molten and seething, knowing that never should I be able to forget her.
5
On the following day I told my servant Kaptah to send away all my patients and bid them seek other doctors. I sent for a barber, washed and anointed myself with sweet-smelling oils, dressed, and ordered a chair, telling the porters to run. I desired to hasten to the house of Nefernefernefer without soiling my clothes or feet with dust. Kaptah looked after me with concern and shook his head, for I had never before left my workroom in the middle of the day, and he feared that if I neglected my patients the fees would dwindle. But I had one thought only, and my body burned as with fire-a glorious fire.
A servant admitted me and led me to Nefernefernefer’s room. She was adorning herself before the mirror and looked at me with hard, indifferent eyes.
“What do you want, Sinuhe? You weary me.”
“You know very well what I want,” I said, trying to gather her into my arms and remembering her ardor of the night before. But she pushed me roughly away.
“Is this malice or stupidity? To come now! A merchant has arrived from Sidon with a jewel that was once a queen’s-a forehead ornament from a tomb. This evening someone is to give it to me; I have long yearned for a gem such as no one else possesses. Therefore I shall make myself beautiful and let them anoint my body.”
She undressed without embarrassment and stretched herself upon the bed for a slave girl to rub salve into her limbs. My heart rose into my throat, and my hands sweated at the sight of her beauty.
“Why tarry, Sinuhe?” she asked when the slave had gone, leaving her lying there unconcernedly upon her bed. “Why have you not gone? I must dress.”
Giddiness seized me, and I rushed at her, but she warded me off so adroitly that I could not take her and stood there finally shedding tears of thwarted desire.
I said at last, “If I could buy you that jewel I would, as you well know-but no one else shall touch you-I will die first.”
“Ah?” she said, her eyes half shut. “You forbid anyone else to touch me? And if I give up this day to you, Sinuhe-if I eat and drink and play with you today-since no one knows what tomorrow will bring-what will you give me?”
She stretched out on the bed so that her flat belly was hollowed. There was not a hair on her, either on her head or on her body.
“I have indeed nothing to give you,” and I looked about me as I said it-at the floor of lapis lazuli inlaid with turquoises and at the many golden cups that were in the room. “Truly I have nothing to give you.”
My knees gave beneath me, and I was turning away when she stopped me.
“I am sorry for you, Sinuhe,” she said softly, stretching her lithe body once more. “You have already given me what you had that was worth giving-although its value appears to me much overrated. But you have a house and clothes and all the instruments that a physician needs. You are not altogether poor, I think.”
Trembling from head to foot, I said, “All that is yours, Nefernefernefer, if you wish. It is worth little, but the house is fitted up for a doctor’s use. A student in the House of Life might give a good price for it if his parents had the means.”
“Do you think so?”
She turned her naked back to me, and as she contemplated herself in the glass, she drew her slender fingers along the black lines of her brows.
“As you will. Find a scribe, then, to record this so that all you possess may be transferred to me in my name. For though I live alone, I
am not a woman to be despised, and I must make provision for the future when perhaps you will cast me off, Sinuhe.”
I stared at her naked back; my tongue grew thick in my mouth, and my heart began to beat so violently that I turned hastily and went. I found a law scribe who quickly made out the necessary papers and dispatched them to the royal archives-for safekeeping. When I returned, Nefernefernefer had clothed herself in royal linen and wore a wig as red as gold; neck, wrists, and ankles were adorned with the most splendid jewelry. At the entrance a handsome chair awaited her.
Handing her the scribe’s receipt I said, “All that I possess is now yours, Nefernefernefer, even to the clothes I have on. Let us now eat and drink and take our pleasure together this day, for no one knows what tomorrow may bring.”
She took the paper carelessly, put it in an ebony casket and said, “I am sorry, Sinuhe, but I find that my monthly trouble is upon me so you cannot come to me as I had wished. You had better go now until I have made the appointed purification, for my head is heavy, and my body pains me. Come another day, and you shall have your desire.”
I stared at her with death in my breast and could not speak. She stamped with impatience.
“Away with you. I am in a hurry.”
When I sought to touch her, she said, “Do not smudge the paint on my face.”
I went home and set my belongings in order, that all might be ready for the new owner. My one-eyed slave followed every step I took, shaking his head, till his presence maddened me. I burst out, “Do not hang at my heels; I am no longer your master. Another owns you now. Serve him obediently when he comes, and do not steal so much from him as you did from me, for it may be his stick is harder than mine.”
Then he cast himself to the ground, raising his hands above his head in the depth of his grief and weeping bitterly.
“Do not send me away, lord, for my old heart has grown into your ways and will break if you banish me. I have always been faithful to you, young and simple though you are. What I have stolen from you I have stolen with due regard to your advantage. I have run about the streets on my old legs in the noonday heat, crying your name and merits, though the servants of other physicians have beaten me and cast dung upon me.”