The Egyptian (64 page)

As soon as Eie had Tutankhamon’s consent he hastened to assemble many ships, and in these the whole court embarked. Akhetaton was abandoned by all save the embalmers in the House of Death, who were preparing the body of Akhnaton to live forever. The last of the inhabitants fled hastily and never looked behind them. In the golden house the eating and drinking vessels were left on the tables, while Tut’s playthings lay abandoned about the floor in an eternal game of funerals.

Desert winds tore open the shutters; sand drifted over the floors where brilliant ducks flew through the ever green rushes and colored fish swam in salt water. The desert returned to the gardens of Akhetaton; fish pools dried up, irrigation ditches were blocked, and fruit trees withered. The mud of the house walls crumbled, roofs fell in, and the whole city decayed into ruins. Jackals howled through the empty halls, and on the soft, canopied couches they made their lairs. So perished the city of Akhetaton, as rapidly as Pharaoh Akhnaton had brought it to life.

The people of Thebes rejoiced greatly at the return of Ammon and the accession of the new Pharaoh. So foolish is the heart of man that he ever puts his hope in the future, learning nothing from his past errors and fancying that tomorrow must be better than today. The people lined the Avenue of Rams to greet their new Pharaoh with cries of joy and to strew flowers in his path.

But in the harbor and the poor quarter the ruins still smoldered; an acrid smoke arose from them and the river stank of carnage. Along the copings of the temple roofs, crows and vultures stretched their necks, too gorged to fly away. Here and there among the ruins and gutted houses, frightened women and children scrabbled after their household goods in the places where their dwellings had stood. I walked the quays, which still stank of stale blood, looking at the empty baskets and thinking of Merit and little Thoth, who had perished on Aton’s account and through my madness.

My steps led me to the ruins of the Crocodile’s Tail, and I thought of Merit, who had said to me, “Perhaps I am but the cushion to soften your loneliness when I am not your worn mat.” I saw little Thoth; his cheeks and limbs were childishly soft, and he put his arm about my neck and laid his cheek to mine. With sharp smoke in my nostrils, I walked in the dust of the harbor, seeing before me the body of Merit transfixed and little Thoth’s bloody nose and his hair matted and sticky with blood. I reflected that Pharaoh Akhnaton’s death had been an easy one. I reflected also that nothing in the world is more terrible than the dreams of the Pharaohs, because the seed they sow is blood and death.

The jubilant shouts of the people reached my ears, as they greeted Pharaoh Tutankhamon in their delusion that this bewildered boy, whose thoughts ran only on a fine tomb, would root out injustice and restore peace and prosperity to the land of Kem.

I wandered thus wherever my feet led me, aware that I was alone and that my blood in Thoth had drained barrenly away. I cherished no hope of immortality; death was to me rather a rest and a sleep and the warmth of a brazier on a winter’s night, Akhnaton’s god had robbed me of my hope and my joy, and I knew that all gods dwelt in dark houses whence there is no return. Pharaoh Akhnaton had drunk death from my hands, but this held no consolation for me; with death he had drunk a most merciful oblivion. But I lived and could not forget. My heart was consumed with bitterness, and I nursed resentment against the people who were now bellowing before the temple like cattle, having learned nothing from the past.

My feet carried me to the ruins of the copperfounder’s house; children hid themselves at my coming, and women digging amid the rubble for their pots and pitchers hid their faces when they saw me.

The mud walls of the house rose before me black with soot; the pool in the garden was dry and the boughs of the sycamore black and leafless. But a shelter, beneath which I saw a water jar, had been erected among the ruins. Mud came to meet me with earth in her graying hair, and limping because of her wound. She bowed before me on trembling knees and said in bitter mockery, “Blessed be the day that brings my lord home!”

More she could not utter. Her voice was strangled in acrimony. Squatting upon the ground, she hid her face in her hands. Her thin body had been wounded in many places by the horns of Ammon, but the wounds had cicatrized, and I could do nothing for them. I asked, “Where is Kaptah?”

“Kaptah is dead,” she answered. “They say the slaves murdered him when they saw that he betrayed them and served wine to Pepitamon’s men.”

But I did not believe her, knowing that he could not die—knowing that whatever happened, Kaptah would live on.

Incensed by my skepticism, Mud cried, “It must be easy and pleasant for you to laugh now, Sinuhe—now that you have seen your Aton triumph! You men are all alike. Every evil in the world comes from men, for they never grow up. They remain boys; they throw stones at one another, strike one another—and their chief delight is to bring sorrow on those who love them and wish them well. Have I not always wished the best for you, Sinuhe? And how am I rewarded? With a lame leg, wounds in the body, and a handful of moldy corn! Yet I do not accuse you on my account, but on Merit’s who was far too good for you and whom you knowingly and of set purpose sent to her death. I have wept my eyes dry for little Thoth, also, who was like my own son and for whom I baked honey cakes. But what do you care for all this! You come here smugly, with all your riches scattered, to rest beneath the roof I have raised here with such toil and difficulty, that I may feed you! I would wager much that before morning you will be whining for beer, and that in the morning you will beat me because I do not serve you as diligently as you would wish. You will set me to labor for you that you may lie idle. Such is the nature of men.”

Thus she spoke, and her nagging was so homelike that I remembered Kipa and Merit, and my heart was flooded with such unspeakable sorrow that tears poured from my eyes.

At this she was much disconcerted and said, “You know very well, Sinuhe, you hot-hearted man, that I mean no ill by what I say but speak only to instruct you. I still have a fistful of corn left, which I will grind and make into a good gruel. I will prepare a bed of dry rushes for you. Perhaps in a little while you will be able to follow your calling so that we may live. Do not concern yourself about this, for I have found washing to do in the houses of the rich, where there are quantities of bloodstained clothes, so that I can always earn something. Moreover, I fancy I can borrow a jar of beer from the pleasure houses where the soldiers have been billeted, to rejoice your heart.”

Her words made me ashamed of my tears. I composed myself and said to her, “I did not come here to be a burden to you, Mud. I am soon going away and perhaps shall not return for a long time. For this reason I desired to see the house where I had been happy, to stroke the rough bark of the sycamore and touch the threshold that was worn by the feet of Merit and little Thoth. Give yourself no trouble for my sake, Muti. I shall send you a little silver if I can, that you may manage while I am gone. But I bless you for your words as if you were my own mother, for you are a good woman even though your tongue at times may sting like a wasp.”

Muti sobbed and rubbed her nose with the back of her rough hand.. She would not let me go but kindled a fire and prepared food for me from her meager store. I was compelled to eat lest I wound her, though every mouthful was near choking me.

Muti watched me, and with a shake of her head she snorted, “Eat, Sinuhe! Eat, you stiff-necked man, though the corn be moldy and the meal repugnant. I suppose you will now run your stupid head into all the nets and snares that come your way, but I can do nothing for you there. Eat, then, and gain strength, Sinuhe; come back again for I will faithfully await you. Have no concern for me, for old and lame though I be, yet I am exceedingly tough. I shall earn my bread well enough with washing and baking so long as there is any bread in Thebes if only you will come back again, lord.”

So until darkness fell I sat among the ruins of my house, and Muti’s fire shed a lonely glow into the sooty darkness. I reflected that it would be better if I never returned since I brought only sorrow and misfortune upon those who loved me—better to live and die alone, as I had come down the river on the night of my birth.

When the stars came out and the guards began to smite their shields with their spear shafts, to scare the people in the ruined alleys of the harbor, I said farewell to Muti and made my way once more to Pharaoh’s golden house. As I walked along the streets toward the shore, the night sky once more glowed red over Thebes and the lights of the great streets shone out; from the center of the city came the sound of music. For this was the night of Tutankhamon’s enthronement, and Thebes was making festival.

But that same night the priests were laboring with great zeal in the temple of Sekhmet, clearing away the grass that had grown up between the flagstones, re-erecting the lionheaded image in its place, robing it in red linen, and adorning it with the emblems of war and devastation.

As soon as Eie had crowned Tutankhamon with the crowns of both kingdoms—the red crown and the white, papyrus and lily—he said to Horemheb, “Now is the hour, you Son of the Falcon! Let the horns sound and declare war! Let blood flow like a purifying wave over the land of Kem, that all may be as before and the people forget the memory of the false Pharaoh.”

On the following day, when Tutankhamon in his golden house was playing at funerals with his dolls, in company with his royal consort—when the priests of Ammon, drunk with power, burned incense in the great temple and cursed the name of Pharaoh Akhnaton to all eternity—then Horemheb ordered the horns to be sounded at the corners of the streets. The copper gates of Sekhmet’s temple were flung open, and at the head of picked troops Horemheb led the triumphal march along the Avenue of Rams, to make sacrifice to the goddess. Eie had his desire, for from the right hand of Pharaoh he ruled over the land of Kem. Now came Horemheb’s turn, whose demand also was fulfilled, and I followed him to the temple of Sekhmet because he wished me to behold the greatness of his power.

Yet to his honor be it said that in the hour of his triumph he disdained all outward show and sought to impress the people by the simplicity of his demeanor. For this reason he drove to the temple in a heavy, workday chariot. No plumes waved above the heads of his horses; no gold gleamed on the wheel spokes. Instead, keen copper scythes slashed the air upon either side of the car. Behind him followed the ranks of the javelin throwers and bowmen. The thud of their bare feet on the stones of the Avenue of Rams was as deep and steady as the roar of the sea. The Negroes beat on drums fashioned of human skin.

Silent and awestruck the people beheld the stately figure erect in the chariot, above the heads of all—beheld his troops who gleamed with health at a time when the whole country suffered want. They watched this progress in silence, as if suspecting that their sufferings were only now beginning. Horemheb halted before the temple of Sekhmet, stepped down from his chariot and entered, followed by his officers. The priests came to meet him with hands and robes splashed with fresh blood and led him before the image of Sekhmet. The goddess was arrayed in a red robe, moistened with the blood of the sacrifice so that it clung to her body, and the stone breasts rose proudly from the garment. In the twilight of the temple her savage lion’s head seemed to move, and her jeweled eyes stared down as if alive on Horemheb as he crushed the warm hearts of the offerings in his hand and prayed for victory.

The priests leaped round about him, rejoicing, and gashing themselves with their knives, and they cried out with one voice, “Return as conqueror, Horemheb, Son of the Falcon! Return as conqueror, and the goddess will descend to you, living, and embrace you with her nakedness!”

But Horemheb did not allow the leaping and outcry of the priests to ruffle his composure; he performed the appointed rites with cool dignity and left the temple. Outside he raised his bloodstained hands and spoke to the waiting multitude.

“Harken to me, all people in the land of Kem! Harken to me, for I am Horemheb, the Son of the Falcon; in my hands I bear victory and deathless glory for all those who will follow me into the holy war. At this hour the chariots of the Hittites thunder over the Sinai desert; their vanguard lays waste the Lower Kingdom, and the land of Kem has never yet been threatened by so great a peril. The Hittites are coming, whose numbers are beyond reckoning and whose cruelty is an abomination to all men. They will lay waste your homes, put out your eyes, violate your wives, and carry off your children into slavery. Therefore the war I declare on them is a holy war; it is a war for your lives and for the gods of Kem. If all goes well, we will win back Syria when we have defeated the Hittites. Prosperity will return to us, and every man will receive full measure of corn and his full share in the spoils. Strangers have desecrated our country long enough; they have mocked at our weakness long enough and derided the impotence of our arms! The hour is now come for me to restore to Kem its military glory. Only by summoning our full strength can the day be won. Therefore, women of Egypt, twist your hair into bowstrings, and send out your husbands and your sons with rejoicing to the holy war! Egyptian men, forge your ornaments into arrowheads and follow me, and I will give you a war the like of which the whole circle of the world has never seen! The spirits of the great Pharaohs, and all the gods of Egypt—foremost among these Ammon, the exalted—fight at our side. Harken to me, all people! Horemheb, the Son of the Falcon, has spoken!”

He ceased, dropping his bloodstained hands to his sides and panting, for he had shouted with a tremendous voice. Then the horns sounded; the soldiers smote their shields with their spear shafts and stamped their feet. Here and there a shout rose from the multitude, the shout swelled to a storm of voices, and all the people cried exultantly together. Horemheb smiled and stepped up into his chariot, while warriors cleared a way for him through the roaring crowds.