The Egyptian (27 page)

Her speech was harsh and her blows severe. I left her and went aft. To pass the time I opened my medicine chests and began to clean my instruments and weigh out drugs. She sat in the bows, drumming her heels on the bottom of the boat in her exasperation; presently she threw off her clothes in a passion, rubbed her body with oil and began so wild and violent a dance that the boat rocked. I could not resist a sideways glance, for her performance was masterly beyond belief.

She could bend backward without effort till she rested on her hands, arching her body like a bow, then raise her feet straight up into the air. All the muscles of her body quivered under the gleaming skin, she grew breathless, and her hair billowed about her head, for the dance demanded a degree of skill such as I have never seen equaled though I have watched dancing girls in the pleasure houses of many lands.

As I watched her, my anger melted away, and I brooded no longer upon what I had lost through stealing this capricious, ungrateful girl. I remembered also that she had been ready to stab herself to death in defense of her maidenhood and knew that I had behaved ill in demanding of her what she could not give. When she had danced so long that the sweat ran down her body and every muscle quivered with exhaustion, she covered herself, head and all, with a garment, and I heard her weeping. Then I forgot my drugs and instruments. Hastening to her, I touched her shoulder gently and asked, “Are you ill?”

She made no answer, but pushed my hand away and wept the more. I sat down beside her, and my heart was full of grief.

“Minea, my sister, do not weep—do not weep at least because of me, for truly I never mean to touch you—never, never—even if you were to ask me. I would save you all pain and sorrow and would have you stay always as you are.”

She raised her head and wiped away her tears in a gesture of annoyance.

“I fear neither pain nor sorrow, you fool. And I do not weep because of you but because of my fate, which has separated me from my god and made me as weak as a rag so that a glance from a blockhead makes my knees give beneath me.”

I held her hands, and she did not withdraw them but turned to me at length, to say, “Sinuhe, in your eyes I must appear ungrateful and vixenish, but I can’t help it, for I don’t know what has come over me. I would gladly tell you of my god so that you might understand me better but to speak of him to the uninitiated is forbidden. I can tell you only that he is the god of the sea and lives in a dark house, and no one who has entered that house has ever returned but dwells with him eternally. But there are some who say that he resembles a bull although he lives in the sea. We who are dedicated to his service are trained to dance before bulls. It is said also that he is like a man despite his bull’s head, but I believe this is no more than a tale.

“I know only that every year twelve are chosen by lot from among those dedicated to enter his house one at a time when the moon is full, and there is no greater joy for those so dedicated than to enter this house. The lot has already fallen to me, but before my turn came, our ship foundered, as I have told you. The merchants stole me away and sold me in the slave market of Babylon. All my youth I have dreamed of the wonderful mansions of the god and of his couch and of immortality. Although we who are consecrated have permission to return to this world after a month is past, no one yet has ever done so—so I think the world has nothing to offer those who have once beheld the god.”

A cloud seemed to veil the sun as she spoke; the scene took on a wan and deathly hue in my eyes, and I was seized with trembling, for I knew that Minea was not for me. Her story was like the stories told by the priests of every land—and she believed it, which barred her from me forever. I did not want to vex or sadden her.

Warming her hands between mine, I said only, “I understand that you desire to return to your god, so I will bring you over the sea to Crete—for I know now that that is where you come from. I guessed it when you spoke of bulls, but what you said of the god in the dark house makes me sure of it. It is what merchants and seamen in Smyrna have told me though I never believed them until now. They would have it that the priests slew all who tried to return from the god’s house, lest any should learn from them what he is like. That was only the talk of sailors and the common people; you being initiated will know better.”

“I must go back—you know it!” she pleaded. “Nowhere else on earth should I find peace. I rejoice at every day to be spent with you, Sinuhe, and not because you delivered me from evil but because no one has ever treated me as you have. I have not the same yearning for the god’s house as before but go to it with sorrow in my heart. If it be granted me, I will return to you after the allotted time—still, I don’t think that will be, for no one has ever come back. Our time is short, and nobody knows what tomorrow may bring as you say, so let us enjoy every day as it comes, Sinuhe, and waste no thought on what is to come. That is best.”

Another man might have taken her by force, carried her to his own land, and lived there with her all his days. I knew that she was speaking the truth and that she would never have a happy day if she betrayed her god; rather the time would come when she would curse me and flee from me. Such is the power of the gods when men believe in them, though over those who do not believe they can have none.

Doubtless these things were written in the stars before my birth and were unsusceptible of change. So we ate and drank in our boat, hidden by the reeds, and the future was remote from us. Minea bent her head and swept her hair across my face, smiling. When she had drunk wine, she touched my mouth with her wine-scented lips and the pain she caused my heart was sweet—sweeter perhaps than if I had taken her, though I did not think it then.

At dusk Kaptah awoke and crept out from under the mat, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

“By the scarab—and not altogether forgetting Ammon—my head is no longer like an anvil. I could feel in harmony with the world once more if only I had something to eat, for my stomach feels as if it were full of ravening lions.”

Without asking leave he joined us in our meal and crunched birds baked in clay, spitting the bones overboard. At the sight of him I was reminded of our plight.

“You drunken bat! You should have cheered us with good counsel and helped us out of this, for we shall soon all three be hanging by the heels in a row. Instead, you drank yourself sodden and snored face downward like a pig in the mire. Say quickly what is to be done, for the King’s soldiers must already be in pursuit to slay us.”

Kaptah scratched his head.

“This boat is indeed too large for three of us to row upstream. To speak truth I have no love for oars; they raise blisters on my hands. We should therefore go ashore and steal two donkeys on which to load our bundles. Let us dress in shabby garments so as not to attract attention, and we must bargain and haggle at the inns. You must not let it be known that you are a physician but feign to be of some other trade. We shall be a company of mummers traveling from village to village, entertaining the rustics in the evening on the threshing floors. No one chases jugglers, and thieves think them not worth the trouble of robbing. You can tell the yokels’ fortunes in oil, as you have learned to do; I can tell them funny stories without end; and the girl can dance for her bread. It would never do to steal the boat from the poor boatmen, who are no doubt lurking somewhere in the reeds, waiting only for darkness to murder us. We should be wise to set off at once.”

Evening was upon us, and there was no time to be lost. Kaptah was certainly right in supposing that the boatmen would conquer their fears and return to fetch their boat, and they were ten strong men. We smeared ourselves with their oil and soiled our clothes and faces with mud, then divided the remains of my gold and silver between us, hiding it in our girdles and other garments. My medicine chest, which I was unwilling to leave, we rolled up in the mat and laid on Kaptah’s back, despite his protests. Then, letting the boat drift in among the reeds, we waded ashore. In the boat we left food and a couple of wine jars, Kaptah believing that the men would stay to get drunk, after which they would not trouble to pursue us. If they tried to accuse us before the judges when they were sober, they would give conflicting evidence, and their story would be so confused that the judges would drive them away with sticks—or so I hoped.

Thus we began our wandering and came in time to a caravan route that we followed all night, though Kaptah cursed the day he was born because of the weight of the bundle that sat askew on his shoulders. In the morning we reached a village whose inhabitants greeted us warmly and with respect because we had dared to travel by night regardless of devils. They gave us porridge made with milk and sold us two donkeys; they held festival when we left them, for they were simple folk who had not seen minted gold for many months but paid their taxes in grain and cattle and dwelled in mud huts among their beasts.

Day after day we trudged the roads of Babylonia. We met merchants; we stepped out of the way of rich men’s chairs and bowed as they passed. The sun burned our skins, and our clothes became tattered, and we grew accustomed to staging our performances on threshing floors of beaten earth. I poured oil into water and foretold lucky days and abundant harvests, men children, and profitable marriages—for I pitied their poverty and was loath to prophesy anything but good. They believed me and rejoiced greatly. If I had told them the truth, I should have spoken of unrelenting tax gatherers, hard blows, corrupt judges, fevers at floodtime, locusts and flies, scorching drought and bad water in summer, heavy toil and, after toil, death—for that was their life. Kaptah told them stories of sorcerers and princesses and of foreign lands where people carried their heads under their arms and turned into wolves once a year. They believed his stories and venerated him and fed him well. Minea danced for them every day to keep in practice for her god, and they marveled at her art, saying, “Never have we seen the like of this!”

The journey was profitable to me, for it taught me that, if the rich and powerful are everywhere alike and think in the same way, so also are the poor the same the world over. Their thoughts are the same though their customs differ and their gods bear different names. My heart melted toward them for their great simplicity, and I could not refrain from healing the sick when I saw them, from lancing boils and cleansing eyes that I knew would otherwise soon be sightless—and all this I did of my own will, asking nothing in return.

But why I so exposed myself to the peril of discovery I cannot say. Perhaps my heart was softened by Minea, whom I saw every day and whose youth warmed my side at night when we lay on those earthen floors that smelled of straw and pungent manure. Perhaps I did it for her sake, to propitiate the gods by meritorious actions; but it may also be that I desired to test my skill, lest my hands lose their steadiness and my eyes their keenness in the detection of disease. For the longer I live the more clearly do I see that what a man does he does for many reasons—reasons of which he himself may be unaware; therefore, his actions are as dust beneath my feet, since I cannot know his motives or his purposes.

We encountered much hardship. My hands grew callused, the soles of my feet thickened, and the dust blinded my eyes. Nevertheless, when I recall this journey of ours along the dusty Babylonian roads, it seems beautiful, and I cannot forget it. Nay, I would give much of what I have known and possessed in this world if I might make that journey once more, with youth, keen eyes, and unwearying body restored to me and Minea beside me, her eyes gleaming like moonlight on the river. Death shadowed us all the way—a death that would have been no easy one if we had been discovered and had fallen into the hands of the King. But in those distant days I never thought of death nor feared it, though life was more precious to me than ever before, walking thus beside Minea and watching her dance on the sprinkled threshing floors. In her company I forgot the crime and shame of my youth, and every morning when I awoke to the bleating of kids and the lowing of cattle my heart was as light as a bird; I would step out to see the sun rise and sail like a golden ship into the gentle blue of the sky.

At last we reached the ravaged border country, but herdsmen, believing us to be poor, showed us the way so that we entered the land of Mitanni and came as far as Naharani without paying tribute or encountering the guards of either King. Only when we came to the great city, where people did not know each other, did we venture into the bazaars, where we bought new clothes and washed and dressed ourselves according to our station, after which we put up at the best inn. Since my gold was fast running out, I lingered a while in that city to practice my calling, finding many patients and healing many sick, for the people of Mitanni were as curious as ever and loved all that was strange. Minea also attracted attention by her beauty, and many offered to buy her of me. Kaptah rested after his labors and grew fat and met many women who granted him their favors for the sake of his stories. When he had drunk in the pleasure houses, he would tell of his day as King of Babylon, and everyone laughed and slapped his knees and cried, “Never have we met such a liar! His tongue is as long and fluent as the river.”

So the time passed until Minea began to gaze at me with misgiving, and at night she lay awake weeping. Then I said to her, “I know that you yearn for your own country and your god, and we have a long journey before us. Yet I must first visit the land of Hatti, where the Hittites live, for reasons I cannot tell you. I believe that from their country one may sail for Crete—though of this I am not sure—and if you prefer it I will take you straight to the Syrian coast, whence vessels bound for Crete sail every week. But I have heard that a caravan is soon to start from here to take the yearly gifts from the King of Mitanni to the King of the Hittites, and with this we may travel in safety and see and hear many new things. However, the decision shall not be mine but yours.”