The Egyptian

by Mika Waltari

  The terror-stricken survivors said to one another, “This has been a day of horror, and it was well we saw nothing during the battle. Had we beheld the multitude of the Hittites and the numbers of our own dead, our hearts would certainly have leaped into our throats, and we should not have fought as we did, like lions.”

  The remainder of the Hittites, surrounded, raised their hands in the air. Horemheb caused them to be bound, while all the marsh rats of the Nile came up to marvel at them, to touch their wounds, and to pull from their helmets and clothes the images of double-headed axes and winged suns.

  Horemheb distributed wine and beer among his men and allowed them to plunder the fallen, both Hittites and Egyptians, that they might feel they too had a share in the spoils. But the most precious gains were the heavy chariots and those horses that remained unharmed. That very night he sent word to the free forces on either flank, exhorting all brave men among them to take service with his chariots like his own “scum,” for the desert folk were better skilled with horses than the Egyptians, who feared them. All horsemen answered his call gladly and rejoiced at the sturdy chariots and fine beasts.

  I had my hands full with the wounded, stitching gashes, setting limbs, and opening skulls that had been crushed by the war clubs of the Hittites. Although I had many helpers, three days and three nights had passed before all were cared for, during which time many of the severely injured died.

  Next day the Hittites launched a fresh attack with their light chariots, to recapture those they had lost. On the third day they still sought to break through the barricades, not daring to return to their commander-in-chief in Syria with news of their defeat.

  But on this third day Horemheb was no longer content with defense. Having cleared a way through his own obstacles, he sent forward his “scum” in their captured chariots to chase the light vehicles of the Hittites and scatter them. We suffered great losses because the enemy were swifter and more accustomed to chariot warfare. Once more there was much work for me. Yet these losses, said Horemheb, were unavoidable, for only in battle could his ruffians learn to handle horses and chariots, and it was better to exercise when the enemy were defeated and discouraged than when, fully rested and equipped, they took the offensive.

  “Without chariots with which to meet chariots we shall never conquer Syria,” said Horemheb. “This fighting behind barricades is childish and profitless, despite the hindrance it has proved to the invasion of Egypt.”

  He hoped that the Hittites would send their foot soldiers into the desert also, for these, without sufficient water, would have been an easy prey. But the enemy were prudent, and apt learners. They held their troops in Syria in the hope that Horemheb, blinded by his victory, would send his men forward into that country, where they would have been rapidly annihilated by the fresh and seasoned forces of the adversary.

  Nevertheless, this defeat caused profound consternation in Syria. Many cities rose in revolt against Aziru and closed their gates against him, weary of his ambition and of the rapacity of the Hittites. They hoped thus to win Egypt’s favor and a share in speedy conquest. The cities of Syria have ever been at odds with one another, and Horemheb’s spies fanned their discontent, spreading exaggerated and alarming reports of the great desert defeat.

  While Horemheb rested his troops among those victorious hills, while he conferred with his spies and laid fresh plans, he continued to send his message to the beleaguered city: “Hold Gaza!” He knew that it could not hold out much longer, yet to win back Syria he must have a base on the coast. He set rumors about among his men of that country’s wealth and of the priestesses in the temple of Ishtar, who with consummate arts give pleasure to the valiant. I did not know why he lingered, until one night a starving, thirst-tormented man crept through the barricades, surrendered himself as a prisoner and begged to be brought before Horemheb. The soldiers mocked him for his impudence, but Horemheb received the man, who bowed low before him, stretching forth his hands at knee level, despite his Syrian dress. He then laid a hand over one of his eyes as if in pain.

  Horemheb said, “Why surely no dung beetle has stung you in the eye?”

  I chanced to be in his tent when this was said and regarded it as idle chatter since the dung beetle is a harmless insect and hurts no one.

  But the thirsty man said, “Truly a dung beetle has stung me in the eye, for in Syria there are ten times ten of them, all exceedingly venomous.”

  Horemheb said, “I greet you, valiant man. Speak freely, for this physician here in my tent is simple and understands nothing.”

  At this the spy said, “My lord Horemheb, the hay has come!”

  He uttered no more than this, but I took him for one of Horemheb’s spies. Horemheb left the tent immediately and gave orders for a beacon to be lit upon the hilltop. Soon afterward a chain of answering fires winked across the hills as far as the Lower Kingdom. In this manner he sent word to Tanis for the fleet to put to sea and engage the Syrian vessels off Gaza, should conflict prove unavoidable.

  Next morning the horns rang out, and the army marched away across the desert to Syria. The chariots drove on ahead as an advance guard, to clear the route of enemies and to choose camping places for the troops. Yet how Horemheb dared give battle to the Hittites in open country was more than I could understand. The men followed him gladly, however, dreaming of the wealth of Syria, which was theirs for the winning. I stepped into my carrying chair and followed them, and we left behind us the hills of victory, where the bones of Hittites and Egyptians lay peaceably together, to whiten in the sand of the barricaded valley.

  2

  I come now to the war in Syria, although I have little to say of it, being unskilled in military matters. All battles look alike to me-all burning cities and plundered houses, all wailing women and mutilated bodies, wherever I may encounter them. My report would be monotonous indeed were I to speak of all I saw. The war in Syria lasted three years, a cruel, merciless war in which great numbers perished. Villages were laid waste, gardens were ravished of their fruit trees, and cities deserted.

  But I must speak first of the guile of Horemheb. He led his troops fearlessly into Syria, removing the boundary stones erected by Aziru and allowing his men to plunder the villages and enjoy the women as a foretaste of the fruits of conquest. He marched straight on Gaza, and no sooner had the Hittites grasped his purpose than they mustered their forces on the plain near the city to cut him off and destroy him, this ground being well-suited to chariot warfare. They were confident of success.

  But winter was already so far advanced that they had now to feed their horses on forage bought of Syrian traders. Before ever this battle began, the horses fell sick and staggered in the traces; their droppings were green and watery, and many of the animals died. Thus Horemheb could engage the enemy upon an equal footing, and having once beaten off the chariots, he routed the demoralized foot soldiers with ease. Javelin throwers and bowmen swiftly completed the work begun by the chariots. The Hittites sustained a worse defeat than ever before and left as many dead upon that field as did the Egyptians. It was known thereafter as the Field of Bones. As soon as Horemheb entered their encampment he set fire to their stocks of forage until all was burned. This forage had mixed with it certain poisonous herbs that caused the Hittite horses to sicken, although I did not then know in what manner Horemheb had contrived this.

  Thus Horemheb reached Gaza, while Hittites and Syrians in the whole of the south took refuge in fortified cities, and he scattered the besiegers. Meanwhile, the Egyptian fleet sailed into Gaza harbor, much battered and disabled; many vessels were still burning after an indecisive battle that had raged for two days offshore. They brought provisions and reinforcements for Gaza and carried home to Egypt our wounded and disabled men.

  The day that saw the opening of the gates of Gaza the impregnable to admit Horemheb’s troops is still celebrated throughout Egypt as a day of festival. This winter day is the Day of Sekhmet when small boys with wooden clubs and reed spe
ars re-enact the siege of Gaza. No city was ever more valiantly defended, and its commander well deserved the praise and acclamation he received. I shall give his name despite the indignity he offered me in having me hoisted up the walls in a basket. His name was Roju.

  He was called by his own men Bull-Neck, which well describes his appearance and his nature, for a more dogged and suspicious man I never met. After the victory the horns of Horemheb blew all day long in vain before Roju would believe that it was safe to open the gates. Even then he would admit Horemheb only, to satisfy himself that the man was what he appeared to be and not a Syrian disguised.

  Aziru’s siege had been but child’s play compared with the Hittites’ ruthless and persistent attack. Day and night these had hurled in burning brands, and when we arrived, there were but few survivors among the inhabitants. A few women and old men crept out to us from beneath the gutted houses, shadowlike in their horrible emaciation. All the children had perished and the men had toiled and worn themselves to death under Roju’s whip, repairing the breaches in the walls. The survivors showed no joy at the sight of Egypt’s army marching through the battered gateway. The women shook their bony fists, and the old men cursed us. Horemheb distributed grain and beer among them, and many died that night in agony. It was the first time for months that they had eaten their fill, and their starved stomachs were unequal to the meal.

  If I could I would portray Gaza as I saw it on that day of victory. I would describe the dried human skins hanging from the walls and the blackened skulls pecked at by birds of prey. I would speak of the charred ruins and of the sooty bones of animals lying in rubble-blocked alleys. I would reproduce if I might the hideous stench of that beleaguered city-a stench of pestilence and death that made Horemheb’s men hold their noses. All this would I describe, to give some notion of that great hour of victory and to make plain why it was that I could not heartily rejoice on this long-dreamed-of, long-awaited day.

  On every surviving soldier of the Gaza garrison Horemheb bestowed a golden chain; it cost him little, for less than two hundred fit men were left. It was a marvel that they had held on. But to Roju Bull-Neck Horemheb gave a chain of green precious stones set in gold and enamel, also a golden whip, and he made his men cheer Roju so that the walls trembled at the sound. All cheered in deep and heartfelt admiration for the man who had held Gaza.

  When the shout had died away, Roju fingered his chain suspiciously and said, “Do you take me for a horse, Horemheb, that you adorn me with golden harness? And is this whip braided with pure gold or with alloyed Syrian gold?”

  He said also, “Take your men out of the city, for their numbers distract me. I cannot sleep in my tower at night for their noise, although I slept soundly enough when battering rams were thundering at the gates and fires crackled on every side. Take your men hence, for in Gaza I am Pharaoh, and I will order my men to attack yours and slay them unless they cease their din and let me sleep.”

  And indeed it proved that Roju Bull-Neck could get no sleep now that the siege was over. Not even drugs or wine could give it to him. He lay brooding on his bed, striving to recall in what manner the stores had been consumed.

  One day he very humbly approached Horemheb and said to him, “You are my lord and greater than I. Punish me, therefore, for I am accountable to Pharaoh for all the things he entrusted me with-and what shall I do? All my papers were burned when the Hittites hurled their jars of fire into my room, and my memory is enfeebled through lack of sleep. I seem to remember all other things, but in the stores there should be four hundred leather cruppers for donkeys, and I can’t find them anywhere. My store scribes can’t find them either although I whip them every day. They can now neither sit nor walk but crawl about the floor on hands and knees. Horemheb, where are those four hundred cruppers, which were never needed because we long ago ate the donkeys? By Set and all devils! Have me flogged in the sight of all, for Pharaoh’s wrath fills me with dread. I shall not dare to enter his presence as my rank requires if I do not find the cruppers.”

  Horemheb sought to calm him, saying that he would gladly give him four hundred of these, but the proposal threw Roju into yet greater agitation.

  He said, “It is evident that you seek to lure me into deceit, for if I accept these, they will still not be those entrusted to me. You do this that you may degrade me and accuse me before Pharaoh, because you are envious and covet the post of garrison commander in Gaza! I will not consent to your deceitful proposal but I will find those four hundred cruppers if I have to tear down Gaza stone by stone to do it.”

  Unknown to Horemheb, Roju ordered the execution of the store clerk who had endured all the hardships of the siege by his side and set men to tearing up the floor of his tower with pickaxes to find the lost harness. When Horemheb saw this, he ordered him to be locked in his room and watched, and then he consulted me. I visited Roju, and with the help of many strong men I bound him to his bedstead and then administered a soothing draught. But his eyes blazed like those of a wild beast; he writhed on the bed, foaming at the mouth in fury.

  He said to me, “Am I not commander in Gaza, you jackal of Horemheb? I remember now that there was in the fortress dungeon a Syrian spy whom I captured before your master came. By reason of my many duties I forgot to hang him from the wall. This spy is an exceedingly cunning fellow, and I now understand that it is he who has made off with those four hundred cruppers. Bring him before me that I may squeeze them out of him and sleep in peace once more.”

  He raved so long about his Syrian spy that I grew weary, and taking lighted torches I descended into the dungeon, where a number of rat- gnawed bodies sat chained to the walls. The guard was an old blind man whom I questioned as to a certain Syrian spy who had been imprisoned before the end of the siege. He vowed and declared that all the prisoners had perished long ago, having been first questioned on the rack and then left without food or water. I knew human nature, and the old man’s demeanor aroused my suspicions.

  I pressed him hard and threatened him until he prostrated himself before me, saying, “Spare my life, lord, for I have faithfully served Egypt all my days and in the name of Egypt have tortured prisoners and stolen their food. But this spy is no ordinary man. His tongue is strange and whistles like a nightingale, and he has promised me great wealth if I will feed him and keep him alive until the coming of Horemheb. He has also promised to restore my sight, having been blind himself until a great physician healed his one eye. He has promised to bring me to this great physician that my sight also may be restored and that I may live in the city among my fellows and enjoy my wealth. He already owes me more than two million deben of gold for the bread and water I have given him, and I have not told him that the siege is over and that Horemheb has come to Gaza, that he may incur yet heavier debt with every passing day. He swears that Horemheb will release him and give him chains of gold, and I must believe him for the twittering of his tongue is not to be resisted. Yet I do not intend to bring him before Horemheb until he owes me three million deben of gold. That is a round sum and easy to bear in mind.”

  My knees had begun to quake and my heart to melt in my breast, for I seemed to know of whom he spoke. But I controlled myself and said, “Old man, there is not so much gold in all Egypt and Syria put together. From your words I know that this man is a great deceiver and merits punishment. Bring him before me instantly, and pray to all the gods that no evil may have befallen him, for you will answer for it with your blind old head.”

  Weeping bitterly and calling on Ammon to help him, the old man led me to a little cellar behind the others, the mouth of which was blocked up with stones that Roju’s men might not find it. When I shone the light of my torch into this hole I saw chained to the wall a man whose Syrian dress was tattered, whose back was raw, and whose emaciated paunch hung in folds. One eye was blind, and in the torchlight he blinked the other and turned it toward me.

  He said, “Is it you, my lord Sinuhe? Blessed be the day that brings you to me, but let t
he smiths make speed to free me from these fetters. Bring me a jar of wine that I may forget my sufferings, and let slaves wash me and anoint me with the finest ointments, for I am accustomed to comfort and a life of abundance, and these sharp stones have rubbed the skin from my backside. Nor have I anything against a soft couch and a few of Ishtar’s virgins for company, seeing that my belly no longer hampers me in the delights of love. Yet-believe it or not-within a few days I have eaten more than two million deben worth of bread.”

  “Kaptah, Kaptah!” I cried, falling on my knees and throwing my arms about his rat-bitten shoulders. “You are incorrigible! They told me in Thebes that you were dead, but I would not believe it, for I think you can never die. My best proof of that is to find you here in the cellar of the dead, living and in good health among the corpses, notwithstanding that those who have perished in their chains all about you were more respectable men and more pleasing to their gods than you. It rejoices me indeed to find you alive.”

  Kaptah said, “You are still the same vain prattler, my lord Sinuhe. Talk not to me of gods, for in my distress I have called on all the gods I know-even those of Babylon and of the Hittites-and not one of them has helped me. I have eaten myself into beggary because of this rapacious guard. The scarab alone has helped by leading you to me, for the commander of this fortress is a madman and believes no sensible words. He allowed his men to plunder me and to rack me in a very terrible manner, so that I bellowed like a bull on their wheel. But the scarab I kept, to my good fortune, for when I saw what was to come I concealed it in a part of my body that it is an indignity for a god to inhabit but that may have been agreeable to the scarab since it led you to me. Only to that can such a remarkable meeting be attributed.”