The Egyptian

by Mika Waltari

  Still with my eyes on her I raised the bowl and drank. Then I looked at her no longer. The blood rose to my head, I began to choke, and my throat seemed on fire.

  When at last I found my breath again I gasped, “I will take back what I said of Kaptah, for in this matter at least he did not lie. Your drink is stronger than any I have tasted and more fiery than the earth oil the Babylonians burn in their lamps. I do not doubt that it would fell even a strong man like a blow from a crocodile’s tail.”

  My body was afire, and in my mouth lingered the tang of spices. My heart took wings like a swallow and I said, “By Set and all the devils, I cannot think how this drink has been mixed, nor do I know whether it has bewitched me, Merit, or your eyes. Magic flows in my limbs and my heart is young once more-do not be surprised if I put my hand on your loins, for it is this bowl that will be to blame and not

  I.”

  Demurely she drew back and raised her hands in mockery. She was slender and long-limbed and she smiled as she said, “It does not become you to swear. This is a decent tavern, and I am not yet so very old nor so very far from being a virgin-though you may not believe this. As to this drink, it is all the dowry my father has provided, for which reason this slave of yours has diligently courted me, hoping to obtain the secret with me, and for nothing. But he is one eyed and old and fat, and I do not fancy that a mature woman could take much pleasure in him. And so instead he has had to buy the tavern, and he hopes also to buy the formula, though truly much gold will have to be weighed out before we can agree on that.”

  Kaptah was pulling desperate faces to silence her.

  I tasted the drink again and as its fire coursed through my body I remarked, “In truth I believe that Kaptah would be willing to break a jar with you for the sake of this drink although he knows that after the wedding you would soon begin to throw hot water over his feet. Even without it I can well understand his feelings when I look into your eyes-though you must remember that just now the crocodile’s tail speaks in me, and tomorrow I may not answer for my words. Is it true, then, that Kaptah owns this wine shop?”

  “Begone, you,, insolent baggage!” cried Kaptah, adding a string of gods’ names he had learned in Syria. Then turning to me, he went on in a pleading tone, “Lord, the matter came out too suddenly. I intended to prepare you for this gradually and beg your approval, being still your servant. But it is true that I have bought this house of the landlord, and I also intend to worm the secret of the drink from his daughter. It has made this place famous up and down the river wherever cheerful men assemble, and I have remembered it daily when I have been far away. As you know, I have robbed you all these years as well and cleverly as I am able, and I have been at some pains to invest my own silver and gold, for I must think of my old age.

  “Even in my youth the innkeeper’s trade was to me the most enviable and alluring,” he went on, for the crocodile’s tail was making him sentimental. “In those days, it is true, I fancied he could drink as much beer as he liked for nothing. Now I know that he must be moderate in this and must never be drunk, and this will be very wholesome; too much beer sometimes affects me strangely so that I seem to see hippopotamuses and other hideous objects. An innkeeper is forever meeting people who may be useful to him and hears all that is going on, and this greatly tempts me since from my youth up I have ever been exceedingly inquisitive. My tongue will be of great service to me, and I believe that with my stories I shall so entertain my guests that they will unwittingly empty cup after cup and marvel when the hour of reckoning arrives. After ripe reflection, it seems as if the gods intended me for an innkeeper, though by some error I was born a slave. Yet even this is now an advantage, for truly there is no trick or lie by which a customer may seek to slip away without paying that I do not know or have not tried myself in my time.”

  Kaptah emptied his bowl, rested his head on his hands smiling.

  “Furthermore,” he went on, “the business is the safest and soundest of all, for whatever may come to pass, thirst remains. Though Pharaoh’s power be shaken or the gods fall from their thrones, yet taverns and wine shops will never lose their patronage. Man drinks wine in his gladness and in his grief. When he prospers he drinks, and in wine he drowns his failures. The place is mine already, and for the present the landlord manages it with the help of this witch Merit, and we are to share the profits until I settle here to rest in my old age. We have made an agreement to this effect and have sworn to it by all the gods of Egypt. I do not fancy he will cheat me more than is reasonable, for he is a pious man and goes to the temple at all the festivals to make sacrifice-although I believe he does this partly because several of the priests come here. But I do not doubt his piety; it is no more than fitting, and a wise man will always combine his commercial and spiritual affairs, nor-nor-indeed I forget where I was and what I meant to say, for this is a day of great rejoicing for me, and I rejoice most of all that you have taken no offense but still regard me as your servant although I am the landlord of a tavern-a business not everyone considers respectable…”

  After this speech Kaptah began to drool and weep laying his head in my lap and throwing his arms about my knees in maudlin emotion.

  Taking him by the shoulders I jerked him into his seat again and said, “Truly I do not think you could have found a more suitable occupation or better security for your old age, yet there is one point which I do not understand. If the landlord knows that his tavern is so profitable and he possesses the secret of the crocodile’s tail, why did he agree to sell it to you instead of keeping it for himself?”

  Kaptah regarded me reproachfully with tears in his one eye, and said, “Have I not said a thousand times that you have a singular gift for poisoning all my joy with your common sense, which is more bitter than wormwood. Say, as he does, that we have been friends from our youth up and love each other as brothers, and we desire to share our happiness and good fortune! I see from your look that this does not suffice for you, and I confess that in this deal also a jackal lies concealed. Rumors are abroad that there will be widespread disturbances when Ammon and Pharaoh’s god strive with one another for power. As you know the taverns suffer first at such times; their shutters are smashed and their landlords whipped and cast into the river, jars are overturned and the furniture knocked to pieces, and in the worst cases, when the place has been drunk dry, it is set on fire. This is the more certain to happen if the owner is on the wrong side, and this man is a man of Ammon and everyone knows it. He can scarcely change his skin at this time of day. He has had doubts of Ammon since hearing that Ammon has begun to sell land, and I have of course done my best to fan these doubts. You forget, lord, that we have the scarab. I am persuaded that it can spare a little protection for the Crocodile’s Tail although it is of course busy with your various interests.”

  I pondered for some time, and said at length, “At any rate, Kaptah, I must acknowledge that you have achieved a great deal in one day.”

  He waved aside my praise, saying, “You forget, lord, that we disembarked yesterday. But truly I have not let grass grow under my feet. Incredible as it may seem to you, even my tongue is weary, since one single crocodile’s tail can cause it to stumble.”

  We then rose to depart, bidding the landlord farewell, and Merit came with us to the door, the silver bangles jingling on her wrists and ankles. In the darkness, of the doorway I laid my hand on her loins and felt her nearness.

  She removed my hand firmly and pushed it from her, saying, “Your touch might please me, but I will not consent to it while the crocodile’s tail speaks through your hands.”

  Abashed I raised my hands and regarded them, and they reminded me most vividly of the feet of a crocodile. We took the shortest way home, spread out our mats, and slept very deeply that night.

  7

  Thus began my life in the poor quarter of Thebes. As Kaptah had foretold, I had many patients, and lost more money than I earned. I required many costly medicines, and it was not worth my while to
heal the starving if they could not buy enough meal and fat to regain their strength. The gifts I received were of small value though they gave me joy, and even greater joy was it to learn that the poor had begun to bless my name. Every evening the sky over Thebes glowed red with the lights of the inner city. I was weary after my day’s work, and even at night my thoughts were with the sufferings of my patients. I thought also of Aton, Pharaoh’s god.

  Kaptah engaged an old woman to keep house for us, a woman who did not disturb me and who was weary of life and of men as her face showed. She cooked well and was quiet and never stood in the porch to insult the poor because of their smell or to drive them away from me with harsh words. I soon grew accustomed to her, and she was never in my way. She was a shadow, and I ceased to notice her. Her name was Muti.

  So month followed month. The unrest in Thebes increased, and nothing was heard of Horemheb’s return. The sun scorched the gardens yellow and the hottest part of the summer was at hand. At times I craved a change and went with Kaptah to the Crocodile’s Tail to joke with Merit and look into her eyes, though she remained remote from me and made my heart sore. I listened to the talk of the other customers and soon observed that it was not everyone who was given a seat and a goblet in this house. The customers were picked and chosen, and although some of them might live by grave robbing or blackmail, they forgot their trade when at the tavern and comported themselves in a decent manner. I believed Kaptah when he told me that in this house only such people met as had a use for one another. No one had a use for me, and here also I was a stranger, although I was tolerated and men were not shy of me, because I was Kaptah’s friend.

  I heard a great deal here; I heard Pharaoh cursed as well as praised, but his new god was for the most part mocked. But one evening an incense dealer came to the tavern with torn garments and ashes in his hair.

  He came to soothe his sorrows with a crocodile’s tail and shouted, “May this false Pharaoh be cursed to all eternity-this bastard, this usurper, who acts according to his own whims, to the detriment of my sacred calling. Hitherto. I have made my best profits on materials I obtain from the land of Punt, and the voyages on the Eastern Sea are not at all hazardous. Every summer ships have been fitted out for the trade routes, and during the following year at least two out of every ten ships have returned with no more than a water measure’s delay. Thus I have always been able to make accurate assessment of my holdings and profits. But now! Was there ever greater madness? At the last refit Pharaoh himself came down to the harbor to inspect the fleet. He saw the seamen lamenting aboard the ships and their wives and children weeping on the shore, slashing their faces with sharp stones as is only seemly on such an occasion, for it is well known how many sail and how few return. It has been so ever since the days of the great queen. Nevertheless, believe it or not, this cranky boy, this damned Pharaoh forbade the vessels to sail and has decreed that no more ships are to be fitted out for Punt. Ammon save us! Every honest merchant knows what that means. It means ruin for countless men, poverty and starvation for the wives and children of seamen. Consider the fortunes invested in ships and warehouses, in glass beads and earthenware jars! Think of the Egyptian agents who must now languish forever in the straw huts of the land of Punt, abandoned by the gods!”

  Not until the incense dealer had been given the third crocodile’s tail on the flat of his hand did he grow quieter. Then he made haste to beg forgiveness if in his grief and indignation he had uttered disparagement of Pharaoh.-

  “Yet,” he went on, “I believe Queen Taia, who is a wise and discerning woman, should govern her son better. I believed Eie the priest also to be a sensible man, but they all seek to overthrow Ammon and allow Pharaoh to give free rein to his madness. Poor Ammon! A man commonly comes to his senses once he has broken a jar with a woman and married, but this Nefertiti, this royal consort, thinks only of her clothes and of her indecent fashions. Believe it or not, the women of the court now paint themselves green round the eyes with malachite and go with their robes open from the navel downward in the sight of men.”

  Kaptah was curious and said, “I have never seen such fashions in any other land, though I have encountered many curiosities, especially in the matter of women’s dress. Do you mean to tell me that women now walk abroad with their private parts uncovered, the Queen also?”

  The incense dealer was offended and replied, “I am a man of decorum, with a wife and children. I did not lower my eyes below the navel, nor would I counsel you to do anything so unbecoming.”

  Merit now interposed wrathfully, “It is your own mouth that is shameless and not these new summer fashions, which are wonderfully cool and do full justice to a woman’s beauty, provided she has a fair and well-formed belly and a navel that has not been disfigured by an unskilled midwife. You might safely have allowed your eyes to travel lower, for beneath the open robe there is a narrow loincloth of finest linen that cannot offend the eye of decorum.”

  The incense dealer would have liked to reply to this, but the third crocodile’s tail was stronger than his tongue. Therefore he laid his head in his hands and wept bitterly over the dress of the court women and over the fate of the Egyptians abandoned in the land of Punt.

  When Kaptah and I were leaving, I said to Merit at the door, “You know that I am alone, and your eyes have told me that you also are alone. I have pondered over the words you once said to me and believe that at times a lie can be sweeter than truth for a solitary person whose first springtime is past. I should like you to wear such a new summer dress as you were speaking of, for you are shapely and your legs are long, and I do not think you will need to be ashamed of your belly when I walk with you along the Avenue of Rams.”

  This time she did not put aside my hand but pressed it gently and said, “Perhaps I will do as you suggest.”

  Yet her promise gave me no pleasure when I stepped out into the hot evening air; rather I was filled with melancholy. From far out upon the river came the lonely notes of a double-reed pipe.

  On the following day Horemheb returned to Thebes and with him an armed force. But to tell of this and of all else that happened, I must begin on a new book. Yet I should first mention that in the course of my practice I twice had occasion to open skulls; one patient was a powerful man and the other a poor woman who believed herself to be the great Queen Hatshepsut. Both recovered and were cured, though I believe the old woman was happier in thinking herself queen than when her reason was restored.

  BOOK 10

  The City of the Heavens

  1

  The summer was at its hottest when Horemheb returned from the land of Kush. The swallows had long vanished into the river mud; the pools about the city stagnated while locusts and flea beetles attacked the crops. But in Thebes the gardens of the wealthy were green and cool and luxuriant, and on either side of the Avenue of Rams flowers bloomed in all the colors of the rainbow. Only the poor lacked water, and their food alone was polluted by the dust that fell everywhere like a net, filming the leaves of the acacias and sycamores in their quarter of the city. Southward, on the farther shore, Pharaoh’s golden house’ with its walls and gardens rose through the heat haze with the blue, misty glow of a dream. Although the hottest season was now upon us, Pharaoh had not left for his summer palaces in the Lower Kingdom but remained in Thebes. From this everyone knew that something was about to happen. As the heavens darken before a sandstorm, so the hearts of the people were overshadowed with dread.

  No one was surprised to see warriors marching into Thebes at dawn on all the southern roads. With dusty shields, gleaming copper spearheads, and strung bows the black troops marched along the streets and stared about them in wonder, the whites of their eyes flashing in their sweaty faces. They followed their barbarous standards into the empty barracks, where cooking fires soon began to blaze and stones were heated to put in the great earthenware cauldrons. Meanwhile, ships of the fleet were berthing alongside the quays, and the chariots and plumed horses of the officers were
put ashore from the transports. There were no Egyptians to be seen among these troops, who were for the most part Nubians from the south and Shardanas from the desert in the northwest. They occupied the city; watch fires were kindled at the street corners, and the river was closed. Gradually in the course of the day labor ceased in workshop and mill, in office and warehouse. The merchants carried in their goods from the street and barred their shutters, and the keepers of taverns and pleasure houses hurried to hire sturdy fellows with cudgels to protect their premises. The people arrayed themselves in white and began to stream from all quarters of the city toward the great temple of Ammon, until its courts were crammed and many were gathered outside the walls.

  Meanwhile the word flew round that during the night the temple of Aton had been defiled and desecrated. The rotting carcass of a dog had been thrown on the altar, and the watchman had been found with his throat slit from ear to ear. When the people heard this they shot sidelong glances of fear, but many could not refrain from secret jubilation.

  “Cleanse your instruments, lord,” said Kaptah gravely. “I believe that before nightfall there will be much work for you to do. If I do not mistake, you will be opening skulls also.”

  Yet nothing noteworthy took place before the evening; a few drunken Nubians plundered shops and raped a couple of women. The guards seized them, and they were flogged in the sight of the people, which brought little consolation either to the merchants or to the women. Hearing that Horemheb was aboard the commander’s ship, I went to the harbor, though with little hope of speech with him. The guard heard me with indifference and went to announce my arrival, then to my surprise returned to summon me to the captain’s cabin. Thus for the first time I boarded a warship and looked about me with great curiosity, yet only the armament and the more numerous crew distinguished it from other vessels, since merchantmen also had gilded bows and colored sails.