by Mika Waltari
I drank wine, and I wept, saying, “Merit, your cheeks are smooth as glass and your hands are warm. Let me touch your cheeks with my hps this night and put my cold hands into your warm ones so that I may sleep without dreaming, and I will give you whatever you desire.”
She smiled sadly and said, “The crocodile’s tail speaks through your mouth, but I am accustomed to that and I take no offense. Know therefore, Sinuhe, that I require nothing of you and never in my life have required anything of a man; from none have I taken a gift of any value. What I give I give from my heart, and to you also I give what you ask, for I am as lonely as you.”
She took the wine cup from my trembling hand, and having spread her mat for me, she lay down beside me, warming my hands in hers. I brushed her smooth cheeks with my lips and breathed in the fragrance of cedar from her skin, and I took pleasure with her. She was to me as my father and my mother-she was as a brazier on a winter’s night and a beacon on the shore that guides the seaman home through a night of tempest. When I fell asleep, she was to me Minea-Minea whom I had lost forever-and I lay against her as if on the floor of the sea with Minea. I saw no evil dreams but slept soundly, while she whispered in my ear such words as mothers whisper whose children fear the dark. From that night she was my friend, for in her arms I could believe once more that there was something greater than myself beyond my understanding, for which it was worth while to live.
Next morning I said to her, “Merit, I have broken a jar with a woman who is now dead, and I still have the silver ribbon with which I bound her long hair. Yet for the sake of our friendship, Merit, I am ready to break the jar with you if you wish it.”
Yawning she held the back of her hand across her mouth and said, “You must drink no more crocodiles’ tails, Sinuhe, since they make you talk so foolishly next day. Remember that I grew up in a tavern and am no longer an innocent girl who might take you at your word-and be sorely disappointed!”
“When I look into your eyes, Merit, I can believe that there are good women in the world,” I said, and I brushed her smooth cheeks with my mouth. “That was why I said it, that you might know how much you are to me.”
She smiled.
“You note that I forbade you to drink crocodiles’ tails, for a woman first shows her fondness for a man by forbidding him something, to feel her own power. Let us not talk of jars, Sinuhe. You know that my mat is yours whenever you are thus lonely and sorrowful. But be not offended if you find that there are others lonely and sorrowful besides yourself, for as a human being I too am free to choose my company, and I hold you in no way bound. And so, in spite of all, I will give you a crocodile’s tail with my own hand.”
So strange is the mind of man and so little does he know his own heart that my soul at this moment was as free and light as a bird, and I recalled nothing of the evil which had come to pass during those days. I was content and tasted no more crocodiles’ tails that day.
4
Next morning I came to fetch Merit to watch Pharaoh’s festival procession. Despite her tavern upbringing she looked very lovely in the summer dress that was made in the new fashion, and I was not at all ashamed to stand beside her in places reserved for the favored of Pharaoh.
The Avenue of Rams was brilliant with banners and lined with the vast crowds who had come to see Pharaoh. Boys had climbed the trees in the gardens on either side, and Pepitaton had ordered countless baskets of flowers to be set out along the road so that, according to custom, the spectators could strew them in Pharaoh’s path. My mood was hopeful for I seemed to glimpse freedom and light for the land of Egypt. I had received a golden bowl from Pharaoh’s house and had been nominated skull surgeon to his household. Beside me stood a mature and lovely woman who was my friend, and around us in the reserved places we saw only happy, smiling people. Yet profound silence reigned; the squawking of crows could be heard from the temple roof-for crows and vultures had taken up their abode in Thebes and were so gorged that they could not rise and fly back to their hills.
It was a mistake for Pharaoh to allow painted Negroes to walk behind his chair. The mere sight of them aroused the fury of the people. There were few who had not suffered some injury during the preceding days. Many had lost their homes by fire, the tears of wives had not yet dried, men’s wounds still smarted beneath the bandages, and their bruised and broken mouths could not smile. But Pharaoh Akh- naton appeared, swaying high in his chair above the heads of the people and visible to them all. Upon his head he wore the double crown of the Two Kingdoms-lily and papyrus. His arms were crossed on his breast, and his hands were hard clenched about the crook and whip of royalty. He sat motionless as an image, as the Pharaohs of all ages have sat in the sight of the people, and there was a dread silence as he came, as if the sight of him had struck men dumb. The soldiers guarding the route raised their spears with a shout of greeting, and the more eminent of the onlookers also began to shout and throw flowers in front of the royal chair. But against the menacing hush of the crowd, their cries sounded thin and pitiful, like the buzz of a solitary midge on a winter’s night, so that they soon fell silent and looked at one another in amazement.
Now, against all tradition, Pharaoh moved. He raised the crook and whip in ecstatic greeting. The crowd surged back and suddenly from its manifold throat broke a cry as terrible as the thunder of bursting seas among the rocks.
“Ammon! Ammon! Give us back Ammon, the king of all gods!”
As the mob billowed and swayed and the cry rolled out ever louder, the crows and vultures winged upward from the temple roof and flapped their black pinions above the chair of Pharaoh. And the people cried, “Away with you, false Pharaoh! Begone!”
The shout alarmed the bearers so that the chair halted in its course. When they again moved forward, goaded by the nervous officers of the guard, the people poured in an irresistible flood across the Avenue of Rams, swept away the chain of soldiers, and threw themselves pellmell before the chair to block its advance.
It was no longer possible to follow exactly what was happening. The soldiers began to belabor the people with their cudgels to clear the way, but soon they had recourse to spears and daggers in their own defense. Sticks and stones sang through the air, blood flowed across the street, and above the roar rose the screams of the dying. But not one stone was cast at Pharaoh, for he was born of the sun like all other Pharaohs before him. His person was sacred, and no one in the crowd would have dared even in his dreams to lift a hand against him, though in their hearts all hated him. I do not believe that even the priests would have done so unheard of a thing. Pharaoh looked on unmolested. Then he arose, forgetting his dignity, and called out to halt the soldiers, but no one heard his cry in all the din.
The mob stoned the guards, and the guards defended themselves and slew many of the people, who cried out unceasingly, “Ammon! Ammon! Give us back Ammon!” and also, “Away with you, false Pharaoh! Begone! Thebes will have none of you!” Stones were cast on those of high rank, and the people surged threateningly about the reserved enclosures, so that women threw away their flowers, dropped their phials of perfume, and fled.
At Horemheb’s command the horns were sounded. From courts and sidestreets came the chariots that he had disposed there out of sight lest the people be provoked. Many were crushed beneath the hoofs and wheels, but Horemheb had ordered the removal of the scythes from the sides of the chariots to prevent unnecessary bloodshed. They drove slowly and in a prearranged order, encircling Pharaoh’s chair and also protecting the royal family and others in the procession, and so escorting them away. But the crowds would not disperse until the royal barges were seen rowing back across the river. Then they broke out in jubilation, and their rejoicing was yet more terrible than their anger. The ruffians among the crowd besieged the houses of the rich until the soldiers restored order and the people dispersed to their homes. Evening drew on and the crows circled down to tear at the bodies that remained lying in the Avenue of Rams.
Thus Pharaoh Akhnaton w
as confronted for the first time by his raging people and saw blood flowing on his god’s account. He never forgot this sight. Hatred dropped poison into his love, and his fanaticism grew until at last he decreed that everyone who spoke the name 0f Ammon aloud or held his name concealed on images or vessels should be sent to the mines.
I speak of these events before coming to the time in which they took place, to make plain their cause. That same evening I was summoned hastily to the golden house, for Pharaoh had had an attack of his sickness. His physicians feared for his life and sought to share the burden of responsibility, for he had spoken of me. He lay long like one dead; his limbs grew cold, and his pulse was no longer to be detected. After a period of delirium during which he bit his tongue and lips until the blood flowed, he came to himself. He then dismissed all the other physicians, for he could not endure the sight of them.
“Summon the boatmen,” he said to me, “and hoist red sails on my ship. Let my friends come with me, for I am going upon a journey and will let my vision lead me until I find a land belonging neither to gods nor to men. This land I will dedicate to Aton and build there a city that shall be the city of Aton. I will never again return to Thebes.”
He said also, “The conduct of the Thebans is more hateful to me than all that has gone before-more loathsome, more contemptible than anything my forebears ever saw, even among foreigners. Therefore I spurn Thebes and leave it to its own darkness.”
So intense was his agitation that he demanded to be carried to his ship while yet ailing, nor could I as his physician prevent him.
Horemheb said, “It is better so. The people of Thebes will have their way, and Akhnaton will have his; both will be satisfied, and there will be peace in the land once more.”
I attended Pharaoh on his voyage down the river. He was too impatient to wait even for the royal family but set sail first. Horemheb ordered an escort of warships to accompany the vessel that he might come to no harm.
So beneath her red sails Pharaoh’s ship glided down the river, and Thebes fell behind. Walls, temple roofs, and the gilded tips of the obelisks sank below the horizon, and lastly the three peaks, the eternal guardians of Thebes, vanished also. But the memory of Thebes remained with us for many days, for the river was full of fat crocodiles whose tails splashed up the foul waters, and a hundred times a hundred swollen corpses drifted with the current. There was no shoal or clump of reeds without its body, held fast by clothes or hair, and all because of Pharaoh Akhnaton’s god. But he knew nothing of this, for he lay in his cabin on soft mats, where servants anointed him with perfumed oils and burned incense about him, that he might not smell the smell of his god.
When we had been sailing for ten days, the river was pure again, and Pharaoh stepped into the bows to look about him. The earth was summer yellow; farmers were gathering in their harvest, and in the evenings the cattle were driven down to the water’s edge to drink, and herdsmen blew on their double pipes. When the people saw Pharaoh’s ship, they arrayed themselves in white and ran down to the shore, where they shouted their greetings and waved their branches of palm. The sight of these contented people was better than any medicine to Pharaoh. Now and then he would give orders for the ship to put in to the bank, and he would go ashore to talk to the people, to touch them, and to bless the women and children with his hands. The sheep also came shyly up, to nuzzle and nibble at the hem of his robe, and he laughed for joy.
In the darkness of night he stood in the bows gazing at the burning stars, and he said to me, “I will divide all the land of the false god among those who are content with little and have labored with their hands, that they may be happy and bless the name of Aton. I will divide all the land among them, for my heart rejoices at the sight of plump children and laughing women and men who labor in the name of Aton without fear or hatred of any.”
He said also, “The heart of man is dark; I should not have believed this had I not seen it for myself. For so lucent is my own clarity that I do not comprehend the darkness, and when light pours into my heart, I forget all the hearts that are twisted and shadowy. There must be many who do not comprehend Aton, though they see him and feel his love, for they have lived their lives in darkness, and their eyes do not know the light when they see it. They call it evil and say that it hurts their eyes. Therefore I leave them alone and do not trouble them, but I will not dwell among them. I gather about me those who are dearest to me and will remain among them, never to leave them, that I may not suffer those evil pains in my head through seeing things that oppress my spirit and are hideous in the sight of A ton.”
Screwing up his eyes at the stars, he went on, “Night is abomination to me. I do not love the darkness; I fear it. I do not love the stars, for when they shine, jackals slink from their dens, lions leave their lairs and roar with blood lust. Thebes is night to me, and so I spurn it-in truth I spurn all that is old and crooked and put my faith in the young and in children. The spring of the world is born of them. Those who from childhood dedicate themselves to the teaching of Aton are purified, and so the whole world shall be purified. Schools shall be transformed, the old teachers driven forth, and new texts written for children to copy. Moreover I will make writing simpler than it now is, for we need no pictures to understand it; I shall cause a script to be adopted that even the humblest may quickly learn. There shall no longer be a gulf between scribes and people; the people shall learn to write so that in every village-even the smallest-there shall be one to read what I shall write to them. For I shall write to them often, of many things that they should know.”
Pharaoh’s talk disturbed me. I knew this new script that was easy to learn and to read; it was not sacred writing, nor was it as beautiful or as rich in content as the old, and every self-respecting scribe despised it.
Therefore I said, “Popular script is ugly and barbarous, and it is not sacred writing. What will become of Egypt if everyone is made literate? Such a thing has never been. No one will then be content to labor with his hands; the soil will lie unfilled, and people will take no pleasure in their ability to write when they are starving.”
I should not have said this, for he cried out in high indignation, “So near to me then is the darkness! It stands beside me in you, Sinuhe. You cast doubts and obstacles in my path-but truth burns like fire within me. My eyes pierce all barriers as if they were barriers of pure water, and I behold the world that will come after me. In that world is neither hatred nor fear; men share their toil with one another and there are neither rich nor poor among them-all are equal-all can read what I write to them. No man says to another ‘dirty Syrian’ or ‘miserable Negro’. All are brothers, and war is banished from the world. And seeing this, I feel my strength increase; so great is my joy that my heart is near to bursting.”
Once more I was persuaded of his madness. I led him to his sleeping mat and gave him soothing medicine. Yet his words were a torment, and my heart felt the sting of them, for there was something in me that had matured to receive his message.
I said to my heart, His mind is greatly disordered because of his sickness, nevertheless the disorder is both beneficient and infectious. I could wish that his visions might come true although my reason tells me that such a world could exist nowhere but in the Western Land. Still my heart cries out that his truth is higher than all other truths that have been spoken and that no greater truth will ever be spoken after him, notwithstanding that bloodshed and ruin break from his footprints. If he lives long enough, he will overthrow his own great kingdom.
And as I gazed at the stars through the darkness I reflected, I Sinuhe am a stranger in the world and do not even know who brought me into it. Of my own will I became the poor man’s physician in Thebes, and gold means little to me, though I prefer a fat goose to dry bread and wine to water. None of that is so important that I could not abstain from it. Having no more than my life to lose, why should I not be a prop for his weakness-stand at his side and encourage him, without misgivings? For he is Pharaoh! The pow
er is his and. there is no more wealthy or more fertile land in the whole world than Egypt, and who knows but Egypt may survive the trial? If such a thing could be, then indeed the world would be renewed: men would be brothers and there would be neither rich nor poor. Never before has a man been offered such an opportunity to bring his truth into being, for this man is born Pharaoh, and the chance will never come again. Here is the one moment in all ages of the world when his truth may be made reality.
Such were my waking dreams aboard the rocking ship, while the night wind bore to my nostrils the fragrance of ripe grain and of the threshing floors. But the wind chilled me and the dream melted and I said to myself ruefully, If only Kaptah were here to hear his words! For although a physician is a clever man and can heal many maladies, yet the world’s sickness and misery is so great that not all the doctors in the world could cure it even if they were competent-and there are ills before which physicians are powerless. Thus Akhnaton may be a physician for the human heart, but he cannot be everywhere. There are hearts so hardened and blackened that not even his truth can avail them anything. Kaptah would say, Even were the time to come when there would be neither poor nor rich, yet there will always be wise and stupid, sly and simple, for so there have ever been and ever will be. The strong man sets his foot on the neck of the weakling; the cunning man runs off with the simpleton’s purse and sets the dunce to work for him. Man is a crooked dealer and even his virtue is imperfect. Only he who lies down never to rise again is wholly good. Already you may see the fruits of that goodness, and those who have most reason to bless it are the crocodiles of the river and the gorged crows on the temple roof.
Pharaoh Akhnaton spoke with me, and I spoke with my weak and vacillating heart. On the fifteenth day we reached land that belonged neither to a god nor to any eminent man. From the shore its hills shaded from golden yellow into blue. The soil lay uncultivated, and only a few herdsmen guarded their flocks there and lived in reed huts along the bank. Here Pharaoh went ashore and dedicated the land to Aton in order to found on it a new city; this future city he named Akhetaton, the City of the Heavens.