by Mika Waltari
His words caused me to tremble, and I said, “Whoever may have brought her, she deserved her fate. Yet from your words I suspect that she was not dead but came to life under the hands of the washers.”
Ramose answered, “Most certainly that frightful woman was restored to life, though how you know of this I prefer not to guess. She awoke, for such women never die-and if they die, they should be burned so that they can never return. When we came to know her we gave her the name of Setnefer: the devil’s beauty.”
A dreadful suspicion seized me and I asked, “Why do you speak of her as of something that has been? Is she not still in the House of Death? The washers vowed that they would keep her there for seventy times seventy days.”
Ramose rattled his knives and pincers angrily, and I believe he would have struck me if I had not brought him a jar of the best wine in Pharaoh’s cellar. He merely felt its dusty seal with his thumb and said, “We bore you no ill will, Sinuhe; you were to me as my own son, and I would have kept you all your life in the House of Death and taught you my art. We embalmed the bodies of your parents as only those of the eminent are embalmed and did not spare the finest oils and balsams. Why then did you wish us so ill as to bring that terrible woman to us alive? Know that before her coming we led a simple, hard -working life, rejoicing our hearts with beer and greatly enriching ourselves by thefts of jewelry from the dead, without regard to sex or standing, and also by selling to sorcerers such organs as they require for their spells. But after the coming of that woman the House of Death became like some abyss of the underworld. The men knifed one another and fought together like mad dogs. She stole all our wealth from us-all the gold and silver we had amassed in the course of years and hidden in the House of Death-nor did she scorn copper. Even our clothes she took from us, for having robbed the young men of all they possessed she set them on to steal from the old ones such as I, whose lust could no longer be kindled. No more than thirty times thirty days had passed before she had stripped us naked of possessions. Then she left, taking all her wealth with her, and we could not prevent her, for if one placed himself in her path he was opposed by another-for the sake of a smile or a touch of her fingers. Thus she took from us our property and our peace. She had by then no less than three hundred deben of gold, to say nothing of silver, copper, linen bands, and salves that for years we had stolen from the dead, as the custom is. She vowed to return to us in a year to see how much we had been able to save by then. There is more theft in the House of Life than there has ever been before; moreover the washers have learned to pilfer from each other and not only from the bodies, so that our peace has altogether departed. By this you may understand why we gave her the name of Setnefer, for she is exceedingly fair though her beauty is of Set.”
It was now I learned how childish my revenge had been since Nefernefernefer returned unharmed from the House of Death richer than before and, as I believe, suffered no ill effects from her stay save the smell, which soaked into her body and for some time prevented her from plying her trade. My revenge had eaten at my own heart and left her unharmed. When I knew this, I knew also that revenge brings no satisfaction. Its sweetness is brief and it turns against the avenger, to eat at his heart like fire.
BOOK 11
Merit
1
Everyone has seen water running from a water clock. So also does human life trickle away, though it is measured not by water but by events. This is a profound truth, to be grasped only in old age when a man’s time runs away to nothing, in monotony. A single day in an eventful period leaves its mark upon him and can seem longer than a year or so of monotonous labor that leaves his heart unchanged. I learned this truth in the city of Akhetaton, where my time flowed smoothly by like the current of the Nile and my life was a brief dream-a lovely, fading song. The ten years I spent in the shadow of Pharaoh Akhnaton in the golden palace of the new city were shorter than any one of the years of my youth: those years of travel and of change.
At Akhetaton I added nothing either to my wisdom or to my science; rather I drew on what I had gathered in so many countries, as a bee survives the winter on the honey it has stored up in the comb. Yet, as running water alters the shape of a stone, so time may have changed my heart; though of this I remained unaware. I was less lonely than before. I may have grown quieter, less puffed up over myself and my talents, though I can claim no credit for this; it was because Kaptah no longer lived with me, but was far away in Thebes, where he managed my property and the Crocodile’s Tail.
The city of Akhetaton shut itself away within the dreams and visions of Pharaoh and was unconcerned with the outside world. All that happened beyond Aton’s boundary stones was as remote and unreal as moonlight upon water. The only reality was what took place within the city of Akhetaton. Yet in looking back upon it now one sees that the opposite may have been true: Akhetaton and its doings were but shadow and illusion, while reality lay in the hunger, suffering, and death beyond its borders. For all that was unpleasing to Akhnaton was hidden from him, and when any matter arose in which a decision from him was necessary, it was presented to him as it were, veiled and sweetened, and with gentleness, lest the sickness in his head return.
During this time Eie the priest ruled in Thebes as bearer of the crook on the King’s right hand. Pharaoh had left behind him all such administrative duties as were tedious or unpleasant, placing full trust in Eie, who was his father-in-law-and a man of great ambitions. Eie was the true ruler of the Two Kingdoms, since all that touched on the life of the common people, whether farmers or townsmen, lay in his hands. Once Ammon had been overthrown, no power was left to rival that of Pharaoh-which was Eie’s-and Eie hoped that the disturbances would soon subside. Nothing could have been more to his mind than the city of Akhetaton, which kept Pharaoh far away from Thebes. He did what he could to collect funds for the building of it and for its adornment and was continually sending lavish gifts to render Akhetaton still more acceptable to Pharaoh. Peace might have come again and all have been as before-save for Ammon only-but for the fact that Pharaoh was a stumbling block to Eie.
Eie’s government was shared by Horemheb in Memphis, who was answerable for security and good order throughout the country. His ultimately was the power behind the rods of the tax gatherers and behind the hammers that hewed away the name of Ammon from all images and inscriptions and penetrated the very tombs for this purpose. Pharaoh Akhnaton permitted the tomb of his own father to be opened so that the name of Ammon might be effaced from its inscription. Nor did Eie oppose him so long as he remained content with such innocent pastimes. He preferred the thoughts of Pharaoh to be engaged in religious matters which did not affect the everyday life of the people.
For some time after the days of terror in Thebes, Egypt lay calm as a summer lake. Eie delegated the collection of revenues to his chief officers, which saved him much trouble. These leased taxation rights to the tax gatherers of cities and villages and substantially enriched themselves. If the poor bewailed their lot and bestrewed their heads with ashes when the tax gatherers visited them, it was no more than they had done in every age.
In Akhetaton the birth of a fourth daughter was a greater misfortune than the fall of Smyrna. Queen Nefertiti began to suspect that she was the victim of witchcraft and went to Thebes to seek help from her mother’s Negro sorcerers. It was indeed strange for a woman to give birth to four girls and not a single boy. Nevertheless it was her fate to give Pharaoh Akhnaton six daughters in all and no son-and her fate was bound with his.
As time went on, the tidings from Syria grew ever more alarming. Whenever a courier ship berthed, I went to the King’s archives to study the latest tablets with their renewed appeals for help. As I read them, I seemed to hear the singing of arrows past my ears and smell the smoke of burning houses. Through the respectful phrases I could hear the shrieks of the dying and of mutilated children. The men of Amurru were brutal, and they had been schooled in the arts of war by Hittite officers. Not one single garrison in Syria was able to wi
thstand them. I read messages from the King of Byblos and the Prince of Jerusalem. They pleaded their age and their fidelity; they invoked the memory of the late Pharaoh and their friendship for Akhetaton in their appeals for help, until Pharaoh was weary of their supplications and sent their letters to the archives unread.
When Jerusalem had fallen, the last of the faithful cities capitulated, Joppa also, and formed alliances with King Aziru. Then Horemheb journeyed from Memphis to have audience of Pharaoh and to demand from him an army with which to organize resistance in Syria. Hitherto he had but carried on a secret war with letters and money, in order to save at least one outpost in that country.
He said to Pharaoh Akhnaton, “Let me hire at least one hundred times one hundred spearmen and archers, and a hundred chariots, and I will win back Syria for you. Now that even Joppa has yielded, Egyptian power in Syria is lost.”
Pharaoh Akhnaton was greatly cast down when he heard that Jerusalem had been destroyed, for he had already taken steps to make it a city of Aton, to pacify Syria. He said, “This old man in Jerusalem-I cannot just now recall his name-was a friend of my father’s. When I was a boy, I saw him in the golden house at Thebes, and he had a long beard. By way of compensation I will pension him out of Egyptian funds although the revenues have notably diminished since trade with Syria ceased.”
“He is hardly in a condition to enjoy a pension,” returned Horemheb dryly. “An exquisite bowl ornamented with gold has been fashioned of his skull, at Aziru’s command and sent by him as a gift to King Shubbiluliuma in Hattushash-unless my spies are very much in error.”
Pharaoh’s countenance went gray, and his eyes were bloodshot, but mastering his agony, he said quietly, “I find it hard to believe such a thing of King Aziru, whom I considered my friend and who so willingly received the cross of life at my hands. But perhaps I have been mistaken in him and his heart is blacker than I supposed. But, Horemheb, you desire of me an impossibility in asking for spears and chariots, for already the people are complaining at the taxes and the harvest has been less abundant than I hoped.”
“For the sake of your Aton, at least give me an authority for ten chariots and ten times ten spearmen, that I may take them to Syria and save what may be saved.”
But Pharaoh Akhnaton said, “I cannot wage war for Aton’s sake, for bloodshed is abomination to him. I would rather relinquish Syria. Let Syria be free and form its own federal state, and let us trade with it as before-for Syria cannot do without Egyptian grain.”
“Do you suppose that they will be content with that, Akhnaton?” exclaimed Horemheb thunderstruck. “Every Egyptian slain, every breached wall, every city captured increases their self-esteem and urges them to ever more outrageous demands. After Syria will come the copper mines of Sinai, without which we can no longer forge spears and arrowheads.”
“I have already said that wooden spears suffice for the guards,” retorted Pharaoh irritably. “Why do you torment me with ceaseless talk of spears and arrowheads so that the words go round and round in my head when I try to compose a hymn to Aton?”
“After Sinai comes the turn of the Lower Kingdom,” went on Horemheb bitterly. “As you said yourself, Syria cannot do without Egyptian grain, although I hear they are now obtaining it from Babylon. But if you do not fear Syria, then fear at least the Hittites, to whose lust for power there are no bounds.”
Pharaoh Akhnaton laughed in a pitying manner as any sensible Egyptian would have laughed to hear such talk, and he said, “For as long as we can remember not one single enemy has set foot within our borders, and none would dare. Egypt is the wealthiest and mightiest of all kingdoms upon earth. I have sent the cross of life to King Shubbiluliuma also, and-at his own request-gold, so that he can erect a life-size figure of me in his temple. He will not disturb the peace of Egypt since he may have gold of me whenever he asks it.”
The veins in Horemheb’s forehead swelled, but having by now learned to master his feelings he said no more. I told him that as a physician I could no longer allow him to weary Pharaoh, whereupon he turned and followed me out.
When we reached my house, he slapped himself sharply on the thigh with his golden whip, saying, “By Set and all devils! A dung cake on the road is of more use than his cross of life. Yet certainly of all things this is the maddest: when he looks me in the eye, lays his hand on my shoulder, and calls me his friend, I believe in his truth, although I know but too well that he is wrong and I am right! That strange force in him is ever replenished in this city, which is as gaudy as a harlot and smells like one. If one might bring before him every human being in the world, for him to speak to each of them, touch them with his gentle fingers, and pour his strength into them, I believe that he might change the world-but it is not possible. Faugh! If I stayed long in this place, I should begin to grow breasts like the courtiers-and end by giving suck!”
2
When Horemheb had returned to Memphis, his words remained with me, haunting me, and I blamed myself for being a bad friend to him and a bad counselor to Pharaoh. Yet my couch was soft beneath its canopy, my cooks served me little birds dressed with honey, there was no lack of antelope roasts, and the water ran quickly from my clock.
The second of Pharaoh’s daughters, Meketaton, was seized by a wasting sickness; her little cheeks glowed with fever and her collarbones began to show through the skin. I sought to strengthen her with tonics, giving her a solution of gold to drink, and I bewailed my fate that no sooner had Pharaoh’s attacks ceased than his daughter must fall ill so that I had no peace by night or day. Pharaoh also grew uneasy, for he loved his daughters dearly. The two eldest, Meritaton and Meketaton, accompanied him to his balcony on audience days and threw down golden chains and other tokens to those whom Pharaoh desired to honor.
As is the way of men, Pharaoh grew fonder of this ailing daughter than of the other three. He gave her balls of ivory and silver, and a little dog that followed her everywhere and slept at the foot of her bed. He grew thin and lost sleep because of his anxiety, rising several times each night to listen to the child’s breathing; every cough of hers tore at his heart.
In the same way also this little girl meant more to me than my property in Thebes, or Kaptah, or the year of famine, or all the people then starving and dying in Syria on Aton’s account. I lavished on her my utmost care and skill, neglecting my other distinguished patients, who were suffering from gluttony and boredom and above all from headaches since this was Pharaoh’s complaint. By humoring their headaches I had acquired much gold, but I was weary of gold and groveling.
I was often so curt with my patients that they said, “His dignity as physician to the household has gone to his head! Because he fancies that Pharaoh listens to him, he ignores what others have to say.”
Yet when I thought of Thebes and Kaptah and the Crocodile’s Tail, I was filled with melancholy, and my heart was hungry with a hunger I could not assuage. I was growing bald beneath my wig and there were days when, forgetting my duties, I dreamed daydreams and walked the Babylonian roads again with my nostrils full of the smell of dried grain on earthen threshing floors. I noticed that I had put on weight and that my sleep was heavy and that I needed a carrying chair because even a short walk left me breathless, although formerly the longest distances could never so affect me.
But when autumn came again and the river rose and the swallows emerged from the slime of the river bed to dart restlessly in the air above, the health of Pharaoh’s daughter mended. She smiled and no longer felt the pains in her chest. My heart followed the swallows in their flight, and with Pharaoh’s leave I boarded a ship for Thebes. He bade me greet on his behalf all the river-side settlers among whom he had divided the land of the false god, and he sent greetings also to the schools he had founded and hoped to hear good tidings of them on my return.
I touched at many villages and summoned the elders to talk with me. The journey was more comfortable than I had hoped, for Pharaoh’s pennant fluttered at the masthead, my bed wa
s soft, and there were no flies on the river. My cook followed me in the kitchen boat, and gifts were brought to him from all the villages so that I had no lack of fresh food. But when the settlers visited me, I saw that they were mere skeletons, their wives stared about them with terrified eyes, afraid of every sound, and the children were sickly and bowlegged. These people showed me their corn bins, which were less than half full, and the grain in them was speckled red as if it had been exposed to a shower of blood.
They said to me, “At first we thought that our failures were the result of ignorance since we had never tilled the soil before. We know now that the land Pharaoh divided among us is accursed, and he who cultivates it is accursed also. At night, unseen feet trample down our crops; unseen hands break the fruit trees we have planted. Our cattle perish without cause, our irrigation ditches are stopped up, and we find carrion in our wells so that even drinking water is lacking. Many have abandoned their land and returned to the towns poorer than they were before, reviling the name of Pharaoh and his god. But we have persevered, trusting to the magic cross and the letters Pharaoh has sent us. We hang these out on stakes in our fields as a protection against locusts. But Ammon’s magic is more powerful than the magic of Pharaoh. Our faith is failing us, and we mean to leave this noisome land before we all die as the wives and children of many have already done.”
I also visited their schools, and when the teachers saw the cross of Aton on my clothes, they hid their canes and made the sign of Aton, while the children sat cross legged on the threshing floors staring at me so fixedly that they neglected to wipe their noses.
The teachers said, “We know that there is no greater madness than the notion that every child should learn to read and write, but what would we not do for Pharaoh, whom we love and who is our father and our mother and whom we venerate as the son of his god? But we are learned men and it ill befits our dignity to sit on threshing floors, to wipe the noses of grimy children and draw ugly signs in the sand-for we have no tablets or reed pens-moreover these new characters can never reproduce all the wisdom and knowledge that, with great trouble and cost, we have acquired. Our salaries are irregularly paid, and the parents reward us very meagerly; their beer is weak and sour, and the oil in our jars is rancid. Yet we persist, to demonstrate to Pharaoh that it is impossible to teach all children to read and write, for only the best pupils whose heads are soft and receptive can learn.”