The Egyptian (57 page)

I was summoned in haste to bind up Akhnaton’s wound, which was slight, and in this way I chanced to see the two assassins. One was shaven headed, and his face gleamed with sacred oil, and the ears of the other had been cut off for some shameful offense. As the guards bound them, they tore at their bonds, shouting hideous imprecations in the name of Ammon. They would not cease even when the guards struck them on the mouth until the blood flowed. Doubtless the priests had bewitched them so that they could feel no pain.

This was an alarming incident, for never yet had anyone dared to raise his hand openly against Pharaoh. Pharaohs may have died unnaturally before that time, but such deaths were not openly contrived. What was done was done secretly, by poison perhaps, or a thin cord, or by suffocation beneath a mat so as to leave no trace. Now and again also the skull of some Pharaoh had been opened against his will. But this was the first open assault, and it could not he hushed up.

The prisoners were questioned in the presence of Pharaoh but refused to speak. When they opened their mouths, it was to invoke Ammon’s aid and curse Pharaoh although the guards smote them on the mouth with their spear shafts. And at the sound of that god’s name even Pharaoh grew so enraged that he allowed the guards to go on striking until the men’s faces were battered and bloody and the teeth flew from their mouths. The prisoners still called on Ammon to help them, and Pharaoh at length forbade further violence.

Then they cried out in their defiance, “Let them torture us, false Pharaoh! Let them crush our limbs, gash our flesh, burn our skins, for we feel no pain!”

So hardened were they that Pharaoh turned aside to wrestle with himself. Regaining control, he was bitterly ashamed because he had allowed the guards to strike the men in the face. He said, “Release them! They know not what they do.”

When the guards had unbound the ropes of rushes, the captives swore worse than before. They foamed at the mouth and shouted in unison, “Kill us, accursed Pharaoh! In the name of Ammon give us death, false Pharaoh, that we may win eternal life!”

When they perceived that Pharaoh meant to free them unpunished, they wrenched themselves from the hands of the guards and dashed head first against the courtyard wall so that their skulls were fractured and they died soon afterward.

Everyone in the golden house knew that Pharaoh’s life must henceforth be in danger. His adherents doubled the guard and would not let him long out of their sight, although in his sorrow he desired always to wander alone in his garden and by the shore. Those who believed in Aton roused themselves to more ardent devotion, while those who professed the faith for the sake of wealth and position began to fear for their places and increased their zeal in Pharaoh’s service. Thus in both kingdoms fanaticism increased, and the people were stirred up as much on Aton’s account as on Ammon’s.

In Thebes, also, ceremonies and processions were arranged in celebration of the thirtieth anniversary. Baskets of gold dust were conveyed thither; ostrich feathers, panthers in cages, giraffes, little monkeys, and parrots with brilliant plumage were brought along the river, that the people might behold the wealth and majesty of Pharaoh and praise his name. But the people of Thebes surveyed the festival procession in silence. There was street fighting, and the cross of Aton was ripped from men’s clothing. Two of Aton’s priests were clubbed to death when they ventured forth among the crowds unguarded.

Worst of all, the foreign envoys were witnesses to these things, and learned also of the attack on Pharaoh’s life. Aziru’s ambassador had many agreeable tales to tell his master on his return to Syria. He took with him many costly presents from Pharaoh to Aziru, and I also sent presents to Aziru and his family by the hand of his envoy. I sent his son a whole little army carved in wood, with gaily painted spearmen and archers, horses and chariots; I had ordered half to be made like Hittites and half like Syrians, in the hope that he would let them fight each other when he played. These figures were fashioned by the highly skilled woodcarvers of Ammon, who had been out of work since the temples and the temple workshops closed. I paid more for them than I did for all my presents to Aziru.

Pharaoh Akhnaton suffered greatly at this time and wrestled with doubt; his faith was so much shaken that he would sometimes cry out bitterly because his visions had faded and Aton had foresaken him. At last, however, he turned the attempted assassination to account, deriving from it new strength and the conviction that his mission was yet loftier than before and his works of more vital importance since there was still so much darkness and fear in the land of Egypt. He tasted the bitter bread and salt water of hatred, and that bread could not satisfy his hunger nor that water quench his thirst. Yet he believed he acted in loving kindness when he redoubled the persecution of Ammon’s priests and sent to the mines those who spoke the name of Ammon aloud. The greatest sufferers were of course the simplehearted and the poor, for the secret power of Ammon’s priests was formidable, and Pharaoh’s guards dared not interfere with them. Thus hatred bred hatred, and unrest continued to increase.

Having no son, Pharaoh sought to secure his throne by marrying his two elder daughters, Meritaton and Ankhsenaton, to the sons of trusted followers at his court. Meritaton broke the jar with a boy named Sekenre, who held the rank of Pharaoh’s cup bearer and believed in Aton. He was an excitable boy of fifteen, much given to daydreaming, and was pleasing to Pharaoh Akhnaton. Pharaoh allowed him to assume the royal headdress and chose him for his successor since he no longer expected to have a son of his own.

But Ankhsenaton broke the jar with a ten-year-old boy named Tut, upon whom were conferred the dignities of Master of the Horse, and Overseer of the Royal Building Works and Quarries. He was a slender, sickly boy who played with dolls and liked sweetmeats and was obedient and docile. There was no evil in him, if no particular good, and he believed all he was told, echoing the words of the last speaker. These boys were of the noblest blood in Egypt, and by marrying his daughters to them, Pharaoh thought to secure to himself and Aton the alliance of their two illustrious families. The boys pleased him because they had no wills of their own; in his fanaticism he would tolerate no difference of opinion nor listen to his counselors.

Outwardly all went on as before, but the attempt on Pharaoh’s life was an evil sign. Worse still, he stopped his ears to human voices and would listen only to those within him. Life became oppressive in Akhetaton; the streets were quieter, and the people laughed less than formerly and spoke in an undertone as if some secret fear were looming over the City of the Heavens. Often I would be roused from my thoughts while at work beside the murmuring water clock and looking out would be aware of a sudden, deadly hush over the city; not a sound would reach me save that of my clock as it measured out immeasurable time. At such moments the murmur of it seemed sinister, as if an allotted span were drawing to its close. Then carriages would roll again past my house, and I would see the colored plumes waving above the horses’ heads. With the cheerful clatter of the wheels would mingle the voices of servants plucking fowls in the kitchen Court. Then I would be reassured and fancy that I had had a bad dream.

Nevertheless there were cold, clear moments when I saw the city of Akhetaton as no more than the fair rind of a fruit that inwardly was eaten away by maggots. The grubs of time sucked the substance from its gay life so that joy faded and laugher died in Akhetaton. I began to yearn for Thebes and had no need to seek out pretexts for the journey; my heart abundantly supplied me with these. So it was with many who fancied themselves devoted to Pharaoh; they left Akhetaton, some to see their estates, others to marry off their kinfolk. Many returned to Akhetaton, but some did not, being now indifferent to Pharaoh’s favor and relying more on the secret power of Ammon. I arranged for Kaptah to send me a number of papers testifying that my presence in Thebes was necessary, that Pharaoh might not prevent my going.

Once I had stepped aboard and was on my way up the river, my soul seemed liberated from a spell. Spring had come again, the river had fallen, and the swallows were flashing above the swift yellow waters. The fertile mud had spread over the fields, and fruit trees were in blossom. I hastened, filled with the sweet unrest of spring, like a bridegroom hastening to his beloved. So much is man the slave of his heart that he will shut his eyes to what does not please him and believe all that he hopes. Freed from the spell and the prowling fear of Akhetaton, my heart was jubilant as a bird released from its cage. It is hard to be bound by the will of another, as everyone in Akhetaton was bound by the fevered, fitful, and oppressive will of Pharaoh. To me, his physician, he was but a man, and this slavery was worse for me than for those to whom he was a god.

I rejoiced at seeing once more with my own eyes and hearing with my own ears, at speaking with my own tongue and living according to my will. Such freedom is in no way harmful; rather it made me humble and melted the bitterness from my heart. The greater my distance from Pharaoh the more clearly did I see him as he was and wish him well. The nearer I came to Thebes the more immediate and living were the memories in my heart, and the greater were Pharaoh Akhnaton and his god.

Therefore my hope and my belief were the same, and I rejoiced, feeling that I was a good man and better than many others. If I am to be honest with myself and live in truth, I must confess that I felt myself to be a better man than Pharaoh himself since I harmed no one willingly, forced my faith on none, and in the days of my youth had tended the poor without requiring gifts. As I pursued my way up the river, I saw everywhere the traces of Pharaoh Akhnaton’s god. Though it was now the height of the sowing season half the fields of Egypt lay unplowed, unsown, and barren save for weeds and thistles, and the flood waters had filled the ditches with mud that no one cleared away.

Amman was exerting his power over the hearts of men, driving the settlers from the land that had been his, and cursing Pharaoh’s fields also, so that plowmen and laborers fled from them and hid themselves in the cities. A few of the settlers remained in their huts, scared and bitter.

I spoke with them and said, “Madmen! Why do you not plow and sow? You will die of hunger when the winter comes.”

They looked at me with enmity because my clothes were of the finest linen and answered, “Why should we sow, when the bread that grows in our fields is accursed, killing those who eat it as the speckled grain has already killed our children?”

So remote lay the city of Akhetaton from the life of reality that it was only now I learned that the speckled grain caused the death of children. I had not heard of such a sickness before. It spread from child to child; their bellies swelled, and they died with pitiful moaning. Neither physicians nor sorcerers could help them. It seemed to me that this sickness could not originate from the grain but rather from the flood waters whence came all the infectious diseases of winter. It is true that this one killed only children, but when I surveyed the grown people who dared not sow their fields, preferring to submit to death by famine, I saw that the illness had killed at least their hearts. I did not blame Pharaoh Akhnaton for all I saw, but Ammon, who so poisoned the lives of these people in the fields that they chose death rather than life.

Impatience to look once more upon Thebes drove me onward. The sweat poured down the faces of my oarsmen. With reproach they showed me their hands, which were blistered and swollen because I urged them to such speed. I promised to heal the sores with silver, and I quenched their thirst with beer in my desire for goodness.

But as they pulled, their haunches braced askew, I heard them mutter one to another, “Why should we row this fat swine if all men are equal before his god? Let him try it himself, to learn how it feels, and then heal his hands with silver if he can!”

The stick at my side cried out to lay about me, but my heart was filled with goodness because I was on my way to Thebes. Having reflected on the men’s words, I perceived their justice.

I went among the speakers and said, “Oarsmen, give me an oar!”

I stood and rowed among them until the hard wood of the oar rubbed blisters on the palms of my hands, and the blisters turned to sores. My back strained sideways until I thought my spine would crack, and I drew my breath with pain.

But I said to my heart, “Will you give up the labor you took on yourself, for your slaves to mock and scorn you? This and much more than this they endure every day. Experience their toil, their sweat, their swollen hands, that you may know what the boatmen’s life is like. You, Sinuhe, once required your cup to be full!”

So I rowed until I was near swooning and the servants had to carry me to my bed.

The next day also I rowed with my flayed hands, and the oarsmen no longer laughed at me but begged me to cease, saying, “You are our lord, and we your slaves. Row no more, or floor becomes roof for us, and we shall seem to walk backward with our feet in the air. Row no more, for there must be order in all things; every man has his station as ordained by the gods, and yours is not the oarsman’s stretcher.”

But I rowed among them all the way to Thebes; my food was their bread and their porridge and my drink the bitter beer of slaves. Every day I could row for a longer time; every day my limbs grew wirier; every day I took more delight in living and noted that I had ceased to be short winded.

My servants were uneasy on my account and said to one another, “Surely a scorpion has bitten our master, or he has gone mad like everyone else in Akhetaton, madness being an infectious disorder. Yet we do not fear him, for we have the horn of Ammon hidden beneath our clothes.”

But I was not mad and had no intention of rowing beyond Thebes.

So we approached the city, and the scent of it reached us far out on the river—a scent surpassing all others for one who was born in that place. I bade my servants rub healing salves into my hands and wash me and dress me in my best clothes. The loincloth was too wide for me, for much of my belly had melted away in rowing, and it was necessary to tighten it about me with pins, which they very woefully did. I laughed at them and sent them to warn Mud of my arrival, not daring to present myself unannounced.