Moses (24 page)

“And who shaves you—that sullen bull who drives your chariot?”

“I shave myself,” Moses said, and Nun smiled thinly without looking at either man.

“You'll find that not so easy when the work is blood and death. Teach the Bedouin to shave you, lad. A servant is made and not born, and if he can handle a chariot axe as he does the reins, you have a man worth holding on to. He cares for it well, too, and a good chariot is life and death here in the South. Grease your axles three times a day, and watch your tires. I'd give a hundred of the chariots, few as I command, to have the iron tires the Hittites use. The gods themselves can't split an iron tire when it's well forged. But a little crack in these bronze hoops will send them off when you most need them—and then the gods can't help you, no, sir—and the wheel goes next. Watch your tires the way you watch your horses' feet. Well—I didn't call you up here to lecture you on chariot care. And sometimes I think that the gods decide when we are to be born and when we are to die, and iron tires won't change that, eh?”

“No, I suppose not, Seti-Keph,” Moses answered.

“The fact is that this afternoon we'll break out march early, for I have a social call to make. Sokar-Moses will come with me; but I would think it a grave discourtesy to the man we will visit to have a prince of the Great House among my captains and not do him the honour of asking you to cross his threshold. So will you come, Moses? It will be for the evening, and I can promise you that you will not be bored.”

“I don't understand,” Moses said.

“How then? Will you not come? I know there are no others of godly blood here, but I am not well enough versed in manners to think that it would belittle you, O Prince of Egypt, to break bread with plain people. You do so on the march. Does crossing a man's threshold make the difference?”

“No, no—please, Seti-Keph, I will be honoured.”

The sour face of the Captain of Hosts broke into a smile. His temperament was almost childlike in its mercurial quality. “What then, boy, speak up?”

“Only—who lives here? Even the peasant villages are behind us now. These are the marches where Kush and Libya raid as they please—”

“Oh, no—no, not as they please, Prince of Egypt. If you doubt the long, hard hand of the God-King, only look behind you!”

“Still, for one man it must be dangerous. Who is he?”

Seti-Keph laughed with pleasure. “The one man for whom it is not dangerous. He's a physician, Moses, and some say he is the best in the world-and even the angriest men do not harm a doctor. We are none of us exempt from the need, and he treats all who come to him. Thus he lives in peace where perhaps another could not. His house is on the escarpment, within sight of the First Cataract.”

“How do you know him, Seti-Keph, and why does he live here alone?”

“Not alone, Moses, for he has his wife and daughter with him, and slaves too. As to how I know him—well, I have been this way before and Kush has felt my fist before; but I also knew of him when he lived in Karnak and men came to him for treatment from all the world. But, you see, his father was with the evil ones, and this man's name is Aton-Moses, and he will not change his name. For my part, I have my religion and I was born with it and I will die with it. I don't hold with dabbling in the affairs of the gods, and the politics of this earth are dangerous enough for me to want no part of the politics of the next world. But a time came when the priests would brook this situation no more, and they told him to change his name and reveal the tomb of his father, so that they might burn the mummy and consign his father to the blind darkness of un-being forever—or else himself face death without embalming.”

“What did he do?” Moses asked slowly.

“He laughed at them, as I have the story. To one priest, he said—You have pains in your belly now. Within thirty days, you will need an operation or face death. Who else can operate on you? Then, to another priest, be said—You have headaches, and they will open your head. What then? I can cure your headaches without trepanning. Who else can? And to a third priest—Who will prepare your medicine when I am dead?

“So you see, Moses, one does not kill a doctor so easily. Then they sent their complaint to the God-King, and he said to exile this physician to the southern edge of the land, but not to kill him. That was more than twenty years ago, and he has lived here since. Nor do I think he would ever leave this place, and later you will see why. So when we break march, cleanse yourself and dress yourself as a prince of Egypt, for it would not be seemly that we go to him in the dirt and cloth of our journey.”

Never had Moses heard Seti-Keph speak with such respect and deference of any man—not even of Ramses himself—and he was eager for the march to end. Early in the afternoon, they broke for camping, not yet within sight of the legendary cataract, but already at a place where the river plunged and tumbled over large rocks, the water churning and foaming as it roared north—and already the slave-porters were fighting their life and death struggle with the supply boats.

Moses let Nun unharness and curry the horses, while he himself bounded down the bank and into the churning river. When he was clean, he had Nun break out the baggage, and while a circle of curious soldiers looked on respectfully, he combed out his thick black hair, put a gold circlet on his brow, and clad himself in the spotless white linen and shining gold insignia of a prince of Egypt.

[12]

AS THEY APPROACHED the house, Sokar-Moses driving Seti-Keph's chariot, in which the three of them rode, the thunder of the cataract became louder and louder—and then, by some freak of acoustics, muffled itself as they came over the ridge. It was a fine sight, the River Nile visible far in either direction, the foaming, tumbling rapids beneath them, and the round, blazing sun dropping into the western desert. But when the house appeared, Moses had eyes for nothing else; for he knew immediately that in all his life he had not seen such a house, nor would he likely see one such again.

Not that it was so different from other Egyptian houses, but there was something so graceful, so complete in its proportions as to have a deep effect on the observer—who afterwards would admit its beauty because there was nothing discordant about it. Like many noble houses in Karnak, it was a simple rectangle in shape, the flat roof supported by stone walls; but unlike the houses of Karnak, it had no wall around it to hide its grace, and it was built not of sandstone but of white limestone that glowed pink and purple in the late sunlight, and in the side walls it had great windows to let in the light—windows curtained by hangings of bright yellow and black. Its entire shape was a natural outgrowth of the upcropping escarpment, and it stood apart from the slave quarters and the stables, so that no unnatural influence might mar its simple beauty. As they drove up to the front, Moses saw that it was entirely open to the river, its verandah framed with the ancient reedshaped columns, marble cut to simulate bundles of tied river-reeds—a type of column that had not been used for more than a century. The limestone verandah stretched in front of the columns to the escarpment edge, and then led down in steps of curved terrace that narrowed finally to a little staircase cut out of the cliff rock itself. And placed here and there on the terrace were reclining cats and one marvellously carved sphinx—all of them in black volcanic basalt—with three large, white, house cats moving sinuously among the carvings.

As slaves ran up to take the horses, three people moved across the terrace, one a small, round-cheeked and obviously good-humoured Egyptian who welcomed them with such warmth that it would seem he had been waiting their arrival all the years he lived there, the second a slight, timid-appearing woman, past middle age, apparently his wife, and the third a young woman of poise and beauty, the daughter—Moses guessed—clad in a thin, transparent gown that left one rich, round breast bare and lovely, in the manner of the southern folk.

It was many a week since Moses had seen an attractive woman, and forgetting his manners, he gaped foolishly; but in the excitement of the meeting, no one noticed. SetiKeph and Aton-Moses embraced warmly, both of them bubbling with pleasure, while Sokar-Moses and Moses stood waiting to be introduced. Aton-Moses named his family with easy formality that demonstrated his breeding, his “beloved wife and companion,” the Lady Setep-Aton, smiling at Seti-Keph to show that he understood and regretted this constant use of “Aton” in the family names; and then the “jewel and comfort of my declining years,” his daughter, the Lady Merit-Aton. But even as he spoke, his eye fixed on Moses, and his manner became suddenly wary and dubious. This was noticed by Seti-Keph, who quickly said,

“No, no, my dear friend—I bring no disturbing guests to you. My messenger mentioned Sokar-Moses, this giant beside me, who is my right arm and first under me in command of the hosts. And this young man, I took the liberty to bring with me; for I know you would have been hurt had I neglected to. He is what he seems to be-the blood of the Great House of the God-King and a prince of Egypt; but he is a good lad, and I think you know that I am no poor judge of men.”

There, in front of Moses and the rest of them, Seti-Keph rambled on with his explanation, as if he knew that there could be no welcome and ease in the lovely white house until he had made their position clear.

“I know that you have heard a good deal about the sons of the God-King in the Great House, but this young man is something else indeed—and mind you, I make no comments on what happens in the Great House. I am an old soldier, and an ignorant one, too. But this man was sent into exile for three years by the God-King, and for many a day now I have watched him. He is an Egyptian, and without mean pride—and he travels with a single servant who drives his chariot, without retainers, without embalmers and women and priests and scribes, and he is a truthful man, Aton-Moses. For many a day I debated whether to bring him here, and then I decided, knowing him, that your house would be honoured by his presence. His name is Moses.”

The family, the three of them, mother, father and daughter, regarded Moses gravely; then the father bowed from the waist, covering both eyes with the tips of his fingers. The mother and daughter did likewise. Then, when they had uncovered their eyes, Aton-Moses said,

“Never before has a person from the Great House entered my home, and surely this has a meaning beyond honour, though we are honoured beyond the ability of words to express. If I was slow in my response, O Prince of Egypt, it is because for these many years I have played a careful game with our lives and happiness as the stake—as good Seti-Keph has no doubt told you; and I would just as well that no one at the Great House be reminded of my existence. Here and about, the people cherish my little skill and weave their own wall about me—but the Great House and the City of Ramses are a long distance away. Enough of explanations. We welcome and honour you, O Prince of Egypt—for my own hospitality stands in doubt now.” His eyes twinkled as he finished speaking, and his welcome was so direct and warm that Moses' heart went out to him. The woman of the house nodded uncertainly, but the lovely Merit-Aton smiled at Moses with delight and admiration.

Aton-Moses clapped his hands, and slaves appeared with stools for them to sit on and with perfumed water to wash their feet and with wine to quench their thirst. They sat in a half-circle on the verandah, the house shading them from the last heat of the sun, and small bronze tables were set before them. Bowls of ripe grapes and figs were put down and simple clay dishes full of sliced melon and goat-flesh, the meat cooked in a savoury sauce of honey that Moses had never tasted before. Wicker baskets of hot bread were constantly presented to them, and for each person, a high-necked clay flask was provided, each one holding about two quarts of liquid. These were placed on the floor, and a long hollow reed allowed the diner to drink without disturbing the heavy bottle. The drink was a cold, slightly-fermented fruit juice, and Moses thought that in all his life he had never tasted anything so delicious and stimulating. He saw the others accept the dinner as nothing very extraordinary—and he realized how little of the life and custom of his own land had reached him through the walls of the Great House. He also recognized something that he had heard a good deal about—the very different status of women here in Upper Egypt. Whereas in the Delta the men would have dined alone, here the women participated on a basis of easy equality, something that SetiKeph and Sokar-Moses were apparently well acquainted with, for they fell into it as a matter of course.

For the first hour, Moses said nothing. He nibbled at his food—for the excitement and pleasure of the occasion had taken away his appetite—and listened to the conversation, which was mainly between Seti-Keph and Aton-Moses. How little of the news and politics of Lower Egypt reached here Moses realized as he heard the Captain of Hosts review the history of the past five years—and he also realized how little of those politics he had really understood. He heard the long war between Hatti and Egypt analysed as a power struggle for the riches of Canaan and for control of the iron mines in Lebanon and the vast wealth of Mesopotamia, and he saw war and conquest in a new perspective, as he had never seen them before. He listened to SetiKeph's account of the expedition to Kush, why it was undertaken and what Ramses hoped to accomplish by it. And he realized that Seti-Keph was a man who exercised neither judgment nor ethical attitudes toward his own profession. Once, not too long ago, Moses would thereby have dismissed the man as a brute; but he was learning that the question of who is and who is not a brute is none too simple—even as the nature of man constituted a maze he had never dreamed of.

Aton-Moses shook his head seriously and unhappily. “Wars should not be fought because a few bands of wild young men came down and crossed the frontier.”