The Egyptian (48 page)

This tale was very long and very exciting, and the people shuffled their feet and raised their hands in impatience to hear what the conclusion might be. My mouth also hung open as I listened. When the story was ended and the false Pharaoh received his punishment and was hurled into the bottomless pit—when his name had been cursed and Ra had rewarded his faithful—then the listeners leaped and cried out in their delight and threw coppers into the storyteller’s bowl.

I was greatly puzzled and said to Merit, “This is a new tale, which I have never heard before, although I fancied I had learnt them all as a child since my mother Kipa was passionately fond of them and favored the storytellers highly—to such a degree that my father Senmut would sometimes menace them with his stick when she fed them in our kitchen. Yes, this is a new story. Were it not impossible, I should say that it concerns Pharaoh Akhnaton and the false god whose name we dare not speak aloud. This tale should be forbidden!”

Merit smiled.

“Who can forbid a story? This one is told in both Kingdoms, at every gateway and beneath every wall in the smallest villages, and the people love it. When the guards threaten the storytellers, these maintain that the tale is an ancient one-and they can prove it, for the priests have found it in writings that are centuries old. Therefore the guards cannot prevent it although I have heard that Horemheb, who is a stern man and cares nothing for proofs and writings, has had a few storytellers hung from the walls and has thrown their bodies to the crocodiles.”

Merit held my hand and smiled as she continued, “Many prophecies are spoken of in Thebes. Whenever two men meet, they tell one another of the prophecies they have heard, and of ill omens. As you know the grain stocks are dwindling, the poor people starve, and taxes lie heavily upon rich and poor. Worse things are foretold, and I tremble when I think of all the evil with which these prophecies threaten us.”

I withdrew my hand from hers, and my heart also. The crocodile’s tail had long cleared from my head, which now ached. My spirits drooped, and her dull stubbornness did nothing to cheer me. So we returned sulkily to the tavern, and I knew that what Pharaoh Akhnaton had said was true: “Aton shall separate the child from its mother and the man from the sister of his heart until his kingdom is established upon earth.” But I had no wish to be separated from Merit because of Aton, and so I remained in an exceedingly ill humor until the evening I saw Kaptah.

No one could long remain sullen at the sight of Kaptah rolling in through the tavern door, huge and ponderous as a farrowing sow—so fat that he had to turn sideways to get in. His face was as round as the full moon and gleaming with sweat and expensive oils; he wore a fine blue wig and had hidden his empty eye socket with a disk of gold. He had ceased to wear Syrian dress but was clothed in the Egyptian fashion, in the finest garments the tailors of Thebes could produce, and his Wrists and thick ankles jingled with heavy gold rings.

When he saw me he cried out with his arms raised in surprise, then bowed low before me and stretched forth his hands, a posture his belly made difficult of achievement.

“Blessed be the day that brings my lord home!”

His feelings overcame him, and he wept, throwing himself on his knees to embrace my legs and making such clamor that I recognized my old Kaptah despite the royal linen and the gold bangles, the costly oil and the blue wig. I raised him by the arms and embraced him, and I seemed to be hugging a fat ox that smelled of new bread, so powerfully did the odor of the corn exchange hang about him.

He smelled my shoulders politely also, dried his tears, and laughed, “This is for me a day of such great joy that I will offer every customer now sttting in my house one crocodile’s tail free! Should they desire a second they must pay for it themselves.”

He led me into the inner part of the house and gave me soft mats to recline on. He allowed Merit to sit beside me while servants and slaves brought me the best the house could offer. His wines were comparable to those of Pharaoh, and his roast goose was a Theban goose, which has no parallel in the whole of Egypt, for it is fed with rotten fish, which imparts to the meat the finest, most delicate flavor.

When we had eaten and drunk he said, “Sinuhe, my lord and master, I trust that you have carefully examined all reports and accounts prepared for you by the scribes at my bidding and dispatched to your house in Akhetaton during these past years. Perhaps you will permit me to charge this dinner to our expense account, also the crocodiles’ tails that in my great joy I have presented to the customers. This will be all to your advantage, for I have the greatest trouble in deceiving Pharaoh’s taxation department on your behalf.”

I said to him, “This is all mumbo-jumbo to me; I understand not a word of it. Do what seems best, for you know I place full trust in you. I have read your records and accounts yet must confess that I understood but little of them, since they contain an inordinate quantity of figures and my head ached long before I came to the end of the sums.”

Kaptah laughed delightedly, and the laugh rumbled from his belly as from under soft cushions. Merit also laughed, for she had drunk wine with me and was now leaning back with her hands behind her head so that I might observe how beautiful still was the curve of her breasts beneath her dress.

Kaptah said, “Oh, Sinuhe, my lord and master, I rejoice to see that you have kept your childish disposition and understand no more of everyday things than does a swine of pearls—though it is far from my intention to liken you to a pig. Rather I render thanks and praise to all the gods of Egypt on your behalf since they might well have given you as a servant some thief or good-for-nothing who would have beggared you, while I have made you rich.”

I pointed out that he had no need to thank the gods for this but rather my good judgment since I had bought him myself in the slave market—and cheaply, because he had lost one eye in a tavern brawl.

At the recollection of these things I was moved and said, “Truly I shall never forget my first sight of you, bound by the ankle to the slave stake and shouting shameless words to the women who passed by or begging beer from the men. Yet I was wise to buy you although I was doubtful of this at the time.”

Kaptah’s face darkened and twisted itself into many folds as he replied, “I do not care to be reminded of such old and tedious matters, which are unbecoming to my dignity.” He went on to praise the scarab very highly, saying, “You were wise to leave the scarab with me to watch over your affairs, for it has made you rich—richer than you could ever have dreamed—despite the tax gatherers who swarm over me like flies. I have had to hire two Syrian bookkeepers to keep special books for their benefit, for no one—not Set himself—could make head or tail of Syrian bookkeeping. And talking of Set, my thoughts turn to our old friend Horemheb to whom I have lent money in your name as you know. I will not speak of him now but of your wealth, little though you may grasp of such matters. Thanks to me you are richer than many Egyptian nobles. Wealth means possession not of gold but of houses and stores and ships and quays, cattle and land and orchards and slaves. You own all these although you may be unaware of it since I have been compelled to enter many items in the names of servants and scribes to evade taxation. Pharaoh’s taxes bear hardly upon the well-to-do who must pay more than the poor, so while a poor man hands over one fifth of his grain, a rich man is compelled to give a third or even half. This is iniquity—the most godless iniquity of all that Pharaoh has perpetrated. This and the loss of Syria have beggared the country. What is strangest of all, as national wealth decreases, the poor become poorer than before and the rich become richer. Not even Pharaoh can alter this.”

Having drunk once more Kaptah began to boast of his dealings in grain.

“Our scarab, lord, is strange in that on the first day of our return from our travels it brought me to the wine shop patronized by corn merchants. I began at once to purchase grain on your behalf and already in the first year was able to make a profit since Am—I mean certain large pieces of land lay fallow and unsown as you know. Grain is a remarkable commodity in that it may be bought and sold before it is ever sown, and also because its price rises from year to year as by witchcraft so that the buyer cannot help making a profit. For this reason I do not intend to sell but shall continue to buy it and store it in my granaries until the price by measure is paid in gold, as is bound to happen if this state of things continues.”

Kaptah, having examined my face, poured out more wine for all three of us and went on gravely, “However, no man stakes all he has on a single throw, and so I have spread your profits evenly among many ventures so as to play as it were with several dice on your behalf, my dear lord. I have stolen no more from you than formerly—not half what I have earned for you by my sagacity; hardly even a third, although I know of no one from whom it would be more rewarding to steal, my dear and blessed lord Sinuhe.”

Merit leaned back on her mat, smiling, and laughed aloud at my bewildered expression as I sought to grasp all that Kaptah was saying. He continued his explanations.

“You must understand, lord, that when I speak of profits I mean net profits, all that is left after taxation. I have also had to subtract certain presents for the taxation officers because of my Syrian bookkeeping and great quantities of wine with which it was needful to ply them to make them squint when they examined my figures. That alone was no small item, for they are astute men with unusual powers of resistance; they grow fat in their profession. From time to time I have distributed grain to the poor that they might bless my name. When times are unsettled, it is well to live in harmony with the poor. This distribution of grain is an excellent stroke of business since Pharaoh in his madness allows a rebate on all corn so distributed. When I give a measure of grain to a poor man, I cause him to testify with his thumbprint that he has received five measures, for the poor cannot read—and if they could they would be so thankful for one measure that they would bless my name and press their fingers at the foot of any document I put before them.”

When Kaptah had delivered himself of all this he folded his arms in a challenging manner, puffed out his chest, and awaited my praise. But his words had set my mind to work and I thought hard for some time. At length I asked, “Then we have large stocks of grain?”

Kaptah nodded vigorously, still awaiting my commendation, but I went on, “If such is the case you must hasten to the settlers who are cultivating the accursed land and distribute the grain among them for seed, for they have none. What corn they have is speckled as if blood had rained on it. The river has fallen, and the time of plowing and sowing has come; you must go in haste.”

Kaptah regarded me compassionately with a shake of the head, and said, “My dear lord, you should not vex your valuable head with matters you do not understand, but let me do your thinking for you. The matter stands thus: We dealers first profited from the settlers by lending grain to them, for they were compelled by poverty to pay back two measures for every one borrowed. If they were unable to pay, we made them slaughter their cattle and took the hides in payment for debt. When grain increased in price, this arrangement became unprofitable, and it is now to our advantage to let as much land as possible remain unsown this spring so that the price of grain may rise still higher. Let us therefore not be such maniacs as to lend the settlers corn for sowing, for that would be to damage our own interests, and I should make enemies of all the corn merchants.”

But in this I was resolute, and I said sharply, “Do as I order, Kaptah, for the grain is mine, and I am not thinking now of profits but of men whose ribs show through their skins like the ribs of miners—of women whose breasts hang like empty bags—of children walking bowlegged on the river bank, their eyes crawling with flies. It is my will that you should divide this grain among them for sowing and that you should help them by every means to get it sown. I desire you to do this for Aton’s sake and for the sake of Pharaoh Akhnaton, whom I love. Do not give it to them free, for I have seen how gifts breed laziness and ill will and sloth and greed. Were they not given land and cattle for nothing? And still they failed. Use your stick on them, Kaptah, if it be needful. See to it that the corn is sown and reaped. When you come to claim your own again, I will permit you to rake nothing off for yourself: you will take from them one measure for every one lent.”

When Kaptah heard this he tore his clothes and lamented.

“Measure for measure, lord? Madness, for where am I to steal if not from your profits? In other respects also your talk is foolish and godless. Besides the corn merchants I shall have the priests of Ammon against me-and I may safely speak his name aloud now that we are sitting in a closed room with none to hear or inform against me. I call his name aloud, lord, for he lives still, and his power is more formidable than ever before. He curses our houses and our ships and our warehouses and shops—this tavern he curses also so that it may be wise to transfer it to Merit’s name if she agrees—and I am indeed thankful so much of your property is entered under other names so that the priests cannot learn of it and call down maledictions on it.”

Kaptah babbled on to gain time in the hope that I should repent of my purpose. When he saw that I was resolved, he swore bitterly and said, “Have you been bitten by a mad dog, lord? Or stung by a scorpion? I thought at first that this was some feeble jest of yours. The plan will make us poor; nevertheless perhaps the scarab can help us. Moreover—to be quite frank—I do not like to look on thin people myself but turn my eyes the other way. I wish that you would do the same, for what a man doesn’t see he need never know. I have soothed my conscience by the distribution of grain among the poor since this was profitable. What I most dislike about your plan is that you require me to venture on uncomfortable journeys and tramp about in the mud, where doubtless I shall stumble and fall into some irrigation ditch—and then you will have my life upon your conscience, lord, for I am a tired old man, and my limbs are stiff. I should miss my soft couch and Muti’s soups and steaks; also walking makes me breathless.”