The Egyptian

by Mika Waltari

  Eie did not quell such talk but rather spread new stories among the people, of Tutankhamon’s thoughtlessness and greed, and of his attempts to gather all the treasures of Egypt into his tomb.

  Throughout this time I was never once in Thebes but traveled everywhere with the army, which required my skill, and I shared its hardships and privations. Yet from the men of Thebes I learned that Pharaoh Tutankhamon was frail and sickly and that some secret illness consumed his body. It seemed that the war in Syria had used up his strength. Whenever news come of a victory for Horemheb, Pharaoh fell sick. After a defeat he recovered and rose from his bed. This, they said, had every appearance of sorcery, and anyone who kept his eyes open could see that Pharaoh’s health was bound up with the Syrian war.

  As time went on, Eie grew ever more impatient, and time after time he sent this message to Horemheb:

  “Can you not cease this warfare and give peace to Egypt? I am already an old man and weary of waiting. Conquer, Horemheb, and bring us peace that I may have my agreed reward. I will see to it that you too have yours.”

  For this reason I was not at all surprised when, after the war was over and we were sailing up the river in warships decked with banners, we were met by the news that Pharaoh Tutankhamon had stepped into the golden boat of his father Ammon to sail to the Western Land. It was said that Tutankhamon had had a severe attack on the day that tidings reached Thebes of the fall of Megiddo and the conclusion of peace. The nature of the fatal disorder was the subject of dispute among the physicians of the House of Life. It was said that his stomach was blackened with poison, but no one had certain knowledge of the cause. The people would have it that he died of an access of his own malignance when the war ended, because his greatest delight had been to see Egypt suffer.

  I know that in pressing his seal into the clay at the foot of the peace treaty, Horemheb killed Pharaoh as surely as if he had thrust a knife into his heart. Peace was all that Eie had been waiting for before sweeping Tutankhamon from his path and ascending the throne as the “Peace King.”

  We were compelled to soil our faces and to haul down the bright pennants of the ships, and Horemheb, in bitter resentment, loosed and threw into the river the bodies of Syrian and Hittite commanders, which, in the manner of the great Pharaohs, he had hung head downward from the bows of his ship. He had left his marsh rats in Syria to bring peace to the country and to stuff themselves on the fat of the land after all the hardships and tribulations of the war. His ruffians-his scum-he brought home with him, to celebrate the peace in

  Thebes. These also were bitter and cursed Tutankhamon, who even in death destroyed their pleasure.

  So I returned to Thebes and resolved never again to leave it. My eyes had seen enough of man’s evil ways, and there was nothing new beneath the ancient sun. I resolved to remain and live out my days in poverty in the copperfounder’s house. All the wealth I had acquired in Syria had been spent on sacrifices for Aziru, being riches I had no desire to keep. To me they smelled of blood, and I should have had no joy of them.

  Even yet my measure was not full. A task was now allotted me that I did not desire and that filled me with dread. I could not evade it, and once more, after only a few days, I departed from Thebes. Eie and Horemheb believed that they had spun their webs and carried out their plans with great sagacity, so as to bring power fully into their hands. But this power slipped through their fingers before they knew it, and the destiny of Egypt hung on a woman’s whim.

  BOOK 15

  Horemheb

  1

  In accordance with the bargain struck with Horemheb, Eie was to be crowned Pharaoh as soon as Tutankhamon’s funeral obsequies were over. He therefore hastened the embalming and stopped further work on the tomb, which remained small and insignificant in comparison with those of the great Pharaohs. By the same agreement he had engaged to coerce Princess Baketamon into marriage with Horemheb, thus enabling Horemheb to prefer a lawful claim to the throne after Eie’s death, despite his low birth. Eie had arranged with the priests that, after the period of mourning was over and Horemheb came to celebrate the festival of victory, Princess Baketamon should appear before Horemheb in the guise of Sekhmet, in Sekhmet’s temple, and there give herself to him, that their union might be blessed by the gods and Horemheb himself become divine. Such was Eie’s plan, but the Princess, with much care and forethought, had made her own, in which I know Queen Nefertiti encouraged her. Queen Nefertiti hated Horemheb, and she hoped also to become-next to Baketamon-the most powerful woman in Egypt.

  So godless, so iniquitous was this plan that only the guile of a malignant woman could have conceived it. So incredible was it that it came near to succeeding. Only when this scheme became known could the magnanimity of the Hittites be accounted for, as shown in their offers of peace, their yielding of Megiddo and the land of Amurru, and in their other concessions.

  Since the death of Nefertiti’s husband and her enforced submission to Ammon, the Queen had been unable to endure the thought of being set aside from the throne and becoming of no more consequence than any other lady about the court. She was still beautiful, though her beauty now required meticulous care for its preservation. It won to her many of Egypt’s nobles, who hung like drones about the court and its inconsiderable Pharaoh. By her intelligence and guile she also won the friendship of Princess Baketamon, whose innate haughtiness she fanned to a blaze until what had been pride became mania. The

  Princess became so arrogant that she would not suffer the touch of any ordinary mortal nor even allow anyone to pass through her shadow. She had preserved her virginity in the belief that there was no man in Egypt worthy of her and was already past the normal age for marriage. Maidenhood had gone to her head, but I believe a good marriage might have cured her.

  Nefertiti persuaded Baketamon that she was born to achieve great things and to liberate Egypt from the hands of low-born usurpers. She spoke to her of the great Queen Hatshepsut, who fastened a royal beard to her chin, girded herself with a lion’s tail, and ruled Egypt from the throne of the Pharaohs. She declared that Baketamon’s beauty resembled that of the great queen.

  She also spoke much evil of Horemheb so that the Princess in her maidenly pride began to dread him as a man of low birth and as one who might possess her with a warrior’s roughness and defile her sacred blood. Yet I believe she was secretly fascinated by his rough strength-she had looked on him overmuch and been inflamed by his glance, although she would never admit as much even to herself.

  Nefertiti had no difficulty in exerting her influence over the Princess when, as the Syrian war drew to an end, Eie’s and Horemheb’s plans became ever more evident. I do not fancy that Eie attempted to conceal his purpose from his daughter Nefertiti. But she hated her father because, having made what use he could of her, he had thrust her aside and kept her hidden in the golden house because she was the widow of the accursed Pharaoh. Beauty and intelligence united in a woman whose heart the years have hardened are dangerous qualities-more dangerous than knives unsheathed, more destructive than the copper scythes of chariots. The best proof of this lies in the scheme Nefertiti contrived and in which she persuaded Princess Baketamon to join.

  The plot came to light when Horemheb, having just arrived in Thebes, began in his impatience to loiter about the apartments of Princess Baketamon in order to see and speak with her, although she refused to receive him. Chancing to see there a Hittite envoy who sought an audience of the Princess, he wondered why she should receive such a man and give him so long an interview. Of his own accord, therefore, and without taking counsel of any, he arrested this Hittite, whose manner was haughty and who addressed him in terms only to be used by such as are sure of their authority.

  Horemheb then reported this to Eie. At night they forced an entry into her rooms, slew the slaves who guarded her, and discovered certain correspondence she had hidden in the ashes of a brazier. Profoundly dismayed at the contents of these tablets, they imprisoned Baketamon in her rooms and
set a guard both on her and on Nefertiti. That same night they came to the copperfounder’s house, which Muti had had rebuilt with Kaptah’s silver; they came in an ordinary carrying chair, concealing their faces. Muti admitted them, muttering angrily when they ordered her to wake me. I was not asleep; ever since witnessing the horrors in Syria, I had slept badly. I rose from my couch while she was yet grumbling, and having lit lamps, I received these strangers in the belief that they required my help as a physician.

  When I saw who they were, I marveled, and when Muti at my order had brought in wine, I sent her back to bed. In his great fear Horemheb would have slain her because she had seen their faces and might hear their talk. Never had I seen Horemheb so frightened, and it gave me the greatest satisfaction.

  I said, “I shall not permit you to slay Muti; you must be brain sick to talk so wildly. Muti is a deaf old hag who snores like a hippopotamus. If you will listen, you will soon hear her. Drink wine, therefore, and be assured that you need not tremble because of an old woman.”

  Horemheb said impatiently, “I have not come here to talk of snores, Sinuhe. What is a life more or less when all Egypt is in mortal danger? It is Egypt you must save.”

  Eie bore out his words, saying, “Truly Egypt is in mortal danger, Sinuhe-and I also! Never before has so great a peril menaced the land; in our distress we turn to you.”

  I laughed bitterly and threw out empty hands. Horemheb brought out King Shubbiluliuma’s clay tablets for me to read and also copies of the letters Princess Baketamon had sent to him before the war ended. I read them and had no further desire to laugh, and the wine in my mouth lost its savor. Princess Baketamon wrote thus:

  “I am Pharaoh’s daughter, and in my veins flows the sacred blood. There is in all Egypt no man worthy of me. I have heard that you have many sons. Send a son to me that I may break the jar with him, and he shall rule over the land of Kem at my side.”

  So incredible was the tenor of this letter that the cautious Shubbi- luliuma would not believe it and by the hand of a secret envoy returned a suspicious inquiry as to terms. In a further letter Baketamon repeated her offer, with the assurance that both the Egyptian nobles and the priests of Ammon were on her side. At this Shubbiluliuma was persuaded of her sincerity and had hastened to make peace with Horemheb and was even now preparing to send his son Shubattu to Egypt. It was agreed that Shubattu should set forth from Kadesh on an auspicious day, with a great quantity of presents for Baketamon. According to the last clay tablet that had been received, he was already on his way to Egypt with his suite.

  “By all the gods of Egypt!” I said in amazement. “How am I to help you? I am but a physician and cannot incline the heart of a mad woman to Horemheb.”

  Horemheb replied, “You helped us once before, and he who once takes up the oar must row whether he will or no. You must journey to meet Prince Shubattu and see that he never reaches Egypt. I do not know how you will contrive this and do not wish to know. I say only that we cannot openly murder him, for this would cause another war with the Hittites. I prefer to choose the time for that myself.”

  His words alarmed me, and my knees began to tremble. My heart turned to water, and my tongue stumbled as I said, “Though it be true that I once helped you, yet I did it as much for my own sake as for Egypt’s. This prince has never wronged me, and I have seen him but once outside your tent on the day of Aziru’s death. No, Horemheb, you shall not make an assassin of me. I would rather die, for there is no more shameful crime. In giving poison to Pharaoh Akhnaton I acted for his own good; he was sick, and I was his friend.”

  Horemheb scowled and smote his leg with his whip, and Eie said, “Sinuhe, you are a wise man and can see that we must not lose a whole kingdom beneath the couch of a capricious woman. Believe me, there is no other way. The prince must die on his way to Egypt-whether by accident or by illness is indifferent to me. You must journey to meet him in the desert of Sinai; you will go at the orders of Princess Baketamon, as a physician, to examine him and see whether he is competent to fulfill the duties of a husband. He will readily believe this and will receive you cordially, with many questions as to Baketamon. Even princes are human, and I fancy he is most curious to know by what manner of sorceress Egypt hopes to bind him. Sinuhe, your task will be easy, and you will not despise the gifts its fulfillment will bring you, for they will make you a rich man.”

  Horemheb said, “Choose quickly, Sinuhe, between life and death. Should you refuse, we cannot allow you to live now that you know so much, though you were a hundred times my friend. The name your mother gave you was an ill omen; already you have learned too many of the secrets of the Pharaohs. One word, and I slit your throat from ear to ear-though unwillingly, for you are our best agent and we cannot entrust the task to any other. You are bound to us through a joint crime, and this crime we shall also share with you-if indeed you call that a crime which frees Egypt from the power of the Hittites and of a mad woman.”

  Thus I found myself caught in a net my own deeds had knotted, and of which I could break not one mesh. I had bound my destiny with those of Eie and Horemheb forever.

  “You know very well that I do not fear death, Horemheb,” I said, in a vain attempt to give myself courage.

  I write for myself, without seeking to appear better than I am. To my shame I must confess that the thought of death filled me with fear that night, chiefly because it came on me so swiftly. I thought of the swallows’ darting flight above the river and of the wine from the harbor; I thought of the goose Muti roasted in the Theban manner, and life was suddenly very sweet to me. I thought also of Egypt and reflected that Pharaoh Akhnaton had had to die that Egypt might live and that Horemheb might avert the Hittite attack by force of arms. Yet Akhnaton was my friend. This prince of a foreign land was quite unknown to me, and doubtless he had done such deeds in the course of the war as to merit a thousand deaths. Why should I hesitate to murder him to save Egypt once again since I had already slain Akhnaton?

  I answered, “Lay aside your knife, Horemheb, for the sight of a blunt knife is irritating to me. Be it as you say. I will save Egypt from the power of the Hittites, though how I do not yet know. In all probability I shall lose my life in the doing of it, for the Hittites will certainly slay me if the prince dies. But I care little for my life, and I do not desire the Hittites to rule in Egypt. I undertake this for the sake neither of gifts nor of fair promises, but because the deed was written in the stars before my birth and may not be evaded. Receive the crowns from my hand, Horemheb and Eie; receive your crowns and bless my name, for I, an insignificant physician, have made Pharaohs of you!”

  I felt a great desire to laugh as I said this. I reflected that the sacred blood ran most probably in my own veins and that I was the only rightful heir to the throne of the Pharaohs, while Eie was by origin no more than a minor priest of the sun and the parents of Horemheb smelled of cattle and cheese. At that moment I saw them both for what they were: robbers despoiling the dying body of Egypt, children playing with crowns and emblems of power, so chained and fettered by their desires that happiness could never be theirs.

  I said to Horemheb, “Horemheb, my friend, the crown is heavy. You will learn this some hot day when toward evening the cattle come down to the water’s edge to drink and the voices about you fall silent.”

  But Horemheb said, “Make haste now and go. A ship awaits you, and you must meet Shubattu in the Sinai desert before he reaches Tanis with his suite.”

  Thus I departed once more from Thebes, suddenly and by night. I went aboard Horemheb’s swiftest ship, taking my medicine chest, some wine, and the remains of the roast goose that Muti had served me for dinner.

  2

  Once more I was alone, in a loneliness exceeding that of other men, for there was no one to whom I could lay bare my innermost thoughts and reveal the secret that, if it were made known, would have occasioned the death of thousands. I had therefore to be wilier than a serpent, and I was goaded on by the knowledge that if caugh
t I should suffer a hideous death at the hands of the Hittites.

  I was sorely tempted to abandon the task and seek refuge in some remote place, like my namesake Sinuhe of the legend, and let destiny roll forward over Egypt. Had I acted so, the course of events might well have altered and the world today been otherwise. Yet now in my old age I perceive that all rulers are in essence alike and all nations also. It signifies little who rules or which nation oppresses another since ultimately it is the poor who suffer.

  But I did not flee, being weak. When a mortal is weak, he lets himself be led even to the commission of a fearful deed sooner than choose his own way.

  Therefore, Prince Shubattu must die. Sitting beneath the golden awning with a jar of wine beside me, I strove to hit on some way of killing that would remain undiscovered, so neither I nor Egypt might be held answerable. The task was no easy one, for the prince would certainly travel in a style befitting his rank. The Hittites, being suspicious by nature, no doubt kept a sharp watch upon his safety. Even if I met him alone in the desert, I could not have slain him with such means as offered, for spear and arrow leave traces, and the crime would have been manifest. I considered whether I might lure him to seek me with the basilisk of the desert, whose eyes are green stones, and hurl him into a crevasse so that I could report that his foot had slipped and that he had broken his neck. But this plan was childish, for I was certain never to be left alone with him. As for poison, the Hittites were ever attended by cupbearers who tasted both food and drink beforehand so that this also was impracticable.

  I then remembered stories of the secret poisons of the priests and of the golden house. I had heard that there were ways of introducing poison into fruit still growing green upon the tree so that whoever plucked and ate the fruit when ripe met his death. There were also certain scrolls that brought slow death to him who opened them, and flowers whose scent, when priests had handled them, was fatal. But these were secrets of the priesthood, and I fancy that many of these tales were tales only. Even had they been true and I conversant with them, I could not well have cultivated fruit trees in the desert. No Hittite prince would open a scroll; he would hand it to his scribe. Nor were the Hittites in the habit of smelling flowers but rather slashed at their stems with whips and trod them underfoot.