The Egyptian (33 page)

Before Minotauros left I said to him, “Have I leave to await Minea’s return in company with her friends, foreigner though I am?”

He surveyed me malevolently and answered, “There is nothing to prevent you. But I fancy that there is just now a ship lying in the harbor that will take you back to Egypt—for you wait in vain. No one who has been dedicated to the god has ever returned.”

But I persisted coaxingly, with the air of a simpleton: “It is true that I was somewhat taken with Minea, though it was tedious to be denied her for the sake of her god. But to speak truly I do not expect her to return; like the others I give that as my reason for remaining here, for there are many enchanting girls—and wives also—who like to look into my eyes and lay their breasts seductively between my hands, and that is a thing I have never before experienced. Minea was in fact a damnably jealous and quarrelsome girl who interfered with my pleasures though she could offer me none herself. Furthermore, I must ask your forgiveness if I was so drunk last night as unwittingly to offend you. I cannot quite call to mind the matter, being still a little fuddled.”

I thickened my speech in saying this and blinked and moaned about my headache until he smiled, taking me for an idiot, and replied, “If that is how the matter stands I shall not hinder your enjoyment, for in Crete we are not narrow in our views. Stay, therefore, and await Minea as long as you wish, but take care to get no one with child, for that—as you are a foreigner—would be unsuitable. Let not this counsel wound you; I offer it as one man to another that you may understand our customs.”

I assured him that I would be careful and babbled of my alleged experiences with the temple maidens of Syria and Babylon until he thought me a bigger fool than before and very tedious. He patted me on the shoulder and turned away to start upon the journey to the city. Nevertheless, I believe he adjured the watchman to keep an eye on me, and I believe also that he bade the Cretans to entertain me, for soon after he had gone a flock of women came to me. They hung garlands about my neck and looked into my eyes and leaned upon me until their naked breasts pressed against my arm. They took me with them in among the laurel bushes to eat and drink. Thus it was I saw their wantonness, and they were not shy of me. I drank heavily and feigned intoxication so that they had no joy of me but grew weary and smote me, calling me swine and barbarian.

Kaptah came and dragged me away by the arms, insulting me loudly because of my drunkenness, and he offered to take my place with them for their enjoyment. They tittered at the sight of him, and the youths mocked him, pointing at his great belly and his bald head. But he was a foreigner, and women everywhere are attracted by what is foreign. When they had done laughing, they let him join their company, giving him wine and stuffing his mouth with fruit, leaning against him and calling him their he-goat and being outraged at the smell of him—until his smell also began to seem alluring.

So that day passed until I was sickened by their gaiety and wantonness and could fancy no more tedious life than theirs, for lawless caprice is in the end more wearisome than a life of purpose. They whiled away the night as before, and my anguished dreams were broken by the cries of women, pretending to flee from pursuing youths who snatched at their clothes to pull them off. But in the morning they were weary and cloyed and longed to bathe, and the greater number returned that day to the city. Only the youngest and most indefatigable lingered by the copper gates.

On the third day these also went, and I let them take my chair, which had awaited me. Those who had come on foot were unfit to walk and staggered as they went from immoderate lechery and want of sleep; moreover it suited my purpose that none should wait for me. Every day I had given the guards wine, and when I brought them a jar at dusk, they were not surprised but received it joyfully. They had few pleasures in their loneliness, which lasted a month at a time, from the coming of one initiate to that of the next. If they marveled at all it was that I remained behind to await Minea, but as I was a foreigner they supposed me simple and drank my wine.

When I saw that the resident priest was of their opinion, I said to Kaptah, “The gods have now decreed that we must part. Minea has not returned, nor do I think she will unless I fetch her. But no one who has entered that dark house has ever come out again, and it is not to be expected that I shall do so. I have therefore written for you a clay tablet and attested it with my Syrian seal so that you may return to Syria and draw my money from the merchants’ houses. You may sell my house if you wish. When you have done this, you are free to come and go. If you fear that in Egypt you may be seized as a runaway slave, then stay in Smyrna and live in my house on my money. As matters now stand, you have not even to arrange for the embalming of my body. If I do not find Minea, I don’t care whether or not my body is preserved. Go therefore, and may the good luck of the scarab go with you—for you may keep the scarab since you have more faith in it than I. I do not think I shall need it on the journey I am now to take.”

Kaptah was silent for a long time and he did not look at me. At length he said, “Lord, I bear you no grudge if at times you have beaten me with needless severity, for you did it with good intent. But more often you have listened to my counsel and have talked to me as a friend rather than as to a servant, so that at times I have been concerned for your dignity until your stick once more established the divinely ordained division between us. The situation now is that I have set Minea’s little foot upon my head and am thus responsible to her as her servant. Nor can I allow you to enter that dark house alone, so that even if I cannot attend you thither as your servant—since you have ordered me to leave you, and I must obey your orders even if they are foolish—yet as a friend I shall come with you. For I cannot leave you alone and certainly not without the scarab—although like you I believe that even the scarab can hardly help us in this matter.”

He spoke so gravely and thoughtfully that I scarcely knew him, nor did he whine as was his custom. But to my mind it was mad for two of us to seek death where one would suffice. I told him this, and again ordered him to leave me.

But he was obstinate and said, “If you will not let me come with you, then I will follow after you. But I would rather come with you, for so greatly do I fear that dark house that my body turns to water at the thought of it. For that reason I hope you will allow me to bring a jar of wine so that I may take a mouthful now and then upon the way to give me courage, lest I shriek out in my terror and disturb you.”

I finished off the discussion, saying, “Cease this chattering and bring the wine if you wish, but let us start now for I believe the guards are asleep and overcome by the drink I mixed for them.”

The guards were sleeping soundly, and the priest also, so I was able to remove the key without difficulty from the place in the priest’s house where I had observed it. We also took with us a dish of embers and some torches, though we did not light them then, for the moon was bright and the little door was easy to unlock. We stepped into the house of the god and shut the door behind us. In the darkness I heard Kaptah’s teeth rattle against the rim of the wine jar.

When Kaptah had fortified his valor with wine, he said in a faint voice, “Lord, let us light a torch. Its glow will not be seen from outside, and this obscurity is worse than the darkness of death: that is unavoidable, but we have entered this of our own free will.”

I blew on the charcoal and, lighting a torch, perceived that we were in a large vault, the entrance of which was closed by the copper gates. From this vault issued ten passages leading in different directions and separated from one another by massive walls of brick. I was prepared for this as I had heard that the god of Crete dwelt in a labyrinth, and the Babylonian priests had taught me that labyrinths were constructed on the same plan as the viscera of sacrificial beasts. For this reason I believed that I might find my way, so often had I beheld the entrails of bulls at the sacrifice, and I assumed that the Cretan labyrinth was built on this plan.

Therefore, I pointed to the passage that lay farthest to one side and said, “We will go in there.”

But Kaptah said, “We are in no great hurry, and nothing was ever lost by caution. Let us beware of going astray, and above all let us ensure that we find our way back—if we are ever to come back, which I gravely doubt.”

Upon this he took a ball of thread from his pouch and fastened the end of it to a bone pin, which he drove between the bricks. The device was so cunning in its simplicity that I should never have hit on it myself, though I did not say this lest I lose dignity in his eyes but merely told him sharply to hasten. So I entered the mazes of the dark house with the image of bovine entrails impressed on my memory, while Kaptah following unrolled the thread.

We wandered endlessly about in the darkness, while new passages continually opened out before us. At times we came up against a wall and had to turn and go some other way. At last Kaptah stood still and sniffed the air. Then his teeth chattered, and the torch wavered in his grasp as he said, “Lord, do you smell the bulls?”

I, too, was by now aware of a repulsive stench like the stench of bulls, though even more vile, and it seemed to issue from the very walls as if the whole labyrinth had been a gigantic cattle shed. I ordered Kaptah to continue without breathing in, and when he had taken a deep draught from the wine jar, we hurried forward until my foot slid on some slippery object. On bending down, I found it to be the rotting skull of a woman, to which hair still adhered. Then I knew that I should not see Minea alive again, but a lunatic urge to make sure drove me forward. I cuffed Kaptah and forbade him to whimper, and we went on, unrolling the thread as we advanced. But soon we encountered another wall and had to turn about.

All at once Kaptah stopped short, pointing to the ground; his scanty hair rose on his head, and his face was contorted and gray. I followed his gaze and observed some dried cattle dung on the ground—but the heap was as high as a man so that if a bull had left it the creature must have been big beyond belief.

Kaptah had the same thought, for he said, “This cannot be from a bull, for such a bull could not enter these passages. I believe it is the droppings of a monstrous serpent!”

So saying he took another deep draught from the jar, his teeth chattering against the rim, and I reflected that the maze seemed made for the movements of such a serpent and was seized with the impulse to turn back. But then I remembered Minea, and impelled by wild despair, I pressed forward, dragging Kaptah with me and gripping my knife in a moist hand, though I knew that no knife could help me.

As we continued, the stench of the passages grew ever more appalling, resembling the miasma from some enormous grave, and it was difficult for us to breathe. Yet I rejoiced, knowing that we were near our goal. We rushed onward until a faint light was perceptible in the passages. We were now into the mountain itself; the walls were no longer bricked but hewn from soft rock. Now the way led downward, and we stumbled over human bones and heaps of dung until at last a great cavern opened before us. We stood on a rocky ledge overhanging an expanse of water and were enveloped in most foul and poisonous air.

Light entered this cavern from the sea, a dreadful greenish light that enabled us to see without torches, and somewhere in the distance we could hear waves thundering against the rocks. On the surface of the water before us floated what appeared to be a row of immense leather sacks, until the eye perceived them to be one huge, dead animal—an animal more huge and more terrifying than can be imagined, which emitted the stench of corruption. Its head had sunk into the water; it was that of a colossal bull. The body resembled the body of a serpent, which, made light by decomposition, rocked its hideous curves on the water. I knew that I beheld the god of Crete—knew also that it had been dead for months. Where then was Minea?

As I thought of her, I thought also of all those who had preceded her. I thought of the youths to whom women were forbidden and of the girls who must preserve their maidenhood in order to enter into the bliss and glory of the god. I thought of their skulls and bones lying in the passages of the dark house. I thought of the monster pursuing them through the maze and blocking the way with its monstrous bulk so that neither their leaps nor any other stratagem could help them.

This leviathan had lived on human flesh—one meal in the month—a meal furnished by the rulers of Crete in the form of the fairest girls and most perfect youths, because these rulers fancied that by so doing they could maintain the sovereignty of the seas. From out of the dread depths of the ocean the creature must once, long ago, have been driven into the cavern by some tempest. A barrier had been thrown across the entrance to prevent its return and the labyrinth built for it to run in. It had then been fed with sacrifices until it died, and there could be no other such monster in the whole world. Where then was Minea?

Mad with despair I shouted Minea’s name and awoke the echoes in the cavern until Kaptah pointed to the rock on which we stood; it was stained with dried blood. Following the track of this down into the water, my eyes beheld Minea’s body, or what was left of it. It stirred slowly along the bottom, dragged by sea crabs that were tearing at it ravenously. Her face was gone and I recognized her only by the silver net over her hair. I did not have to look for the sword gash in her breast, for I knew that Minotauros had followed her here, thrust his blade through her from behind, and thrown her into the water, that none might learn that the god of Crete was dead. This he must have done to many a boy and girl before Minea.

When I had seen and comprehended it all, a terrible cry burst from my throat. I sank down in a swoon and would certainly have fallen from the ledge to join Minea had not Kaptah dragged me to safety, as he afterward told me. Of what then befell I know nothing save by Kaptah’s account, so mercifully profound was the swoon following upon anxiety, torment, and despair.