The Egyptian (51 page)

I saw that these people were unfeignedly ill and unable to rise from their litters. One was a young woman whose limbs were wasted and shriveled and lifeless; only her dark, frightened eyes moved in her emaciated face. The second was a boy whose whole body was covered with hideous eruption and many bloody scabs. The third was an old man whose legs were paralyzed so that he could not walk; the affliction was genuine; though I drove a pin into his leg, he felt no pain.

At length I said to the priest, “I have examined these patients with the utmost care. Were I their physician, I could do no more than send them to the House of Life. The woman and the old man could hardly be cured even there, although the boy’s sufferings might be alleviated by daily sulphur baths.”

The priest smiled and bade us both sit on seats that were at the end of the room, in semidarkness, and wait there patiently. Next he summoned slaves who lifted up the litters of the sick and set them on the altar, and then he kindled an intoxicating incense. From the passage came the sound of singing, and a group of priests entered, chanting the hymns of Ammon. Having taken up positions about the sick people, they began to pray, to leap, and to shout. They leaped and shouted until the sweat poured down their faces; they cast off their shoulder cloths, swung bells in their hands, and gashed their breasts with sharp stones.

I had seen similar rites in Syria, and I contemplated their ecstasy with the cold eye of a physician. Their shouts grew louder, and they beat on the stone walls with their fists. The wall opened, and the sacred image of Ammon loomed over them in the lamplight. At that instant the priests fell silent, and their silence followed the din with stunning force. The countenance of Ammon shone out at us from the dark recess, glowing with celestial light.

Suddenly the chief one among the priests stepped forward to the sick people, and calling each of them by name, he cried, “Arise and walk, for great Ammon has blessed you because of your faith in him!”

With my own eyes I saw the three sick people rise uncertainly from their beds, staring at the image of Ammon. Trembling all over they rose to their knees and then stood feeling their limbs incredulously until they broke out into weeping, praying, and blessing the name of Ammon. The stone walls closed; the priests departed, while slaves bore away the incense and lit many bright lamps, that we might examine the sick people a second time. Now the young woman could move and walk a few steps when he guided her. The old man could walk by himself, and the eruption had vanished from the skin of the young boy, which was now clean and smooth. All this had taken place within a few water measures’ time. I could never have believed it had I not seen it with my own eyes.

The priest who had welcomed us came up with a triumphant smile and said, “What do you say now, royal Sinuhe?”

I looked him fearlessly in the eye and answered, “I perceive that the woman and the old man were under some spell that fettered their wills, and magic is cured by magic if the magician’s will be stronger than that of those bewitched. But an eruption is an eruption and is not to be cured by spells but by months of treatment and medicinal baths. Therefore I must confess that I have seen nothing to compare with this.”

His blazing eyes were on me as he demanded, “Do you then acknowledge, Sinuhe, that Ammon is still king of all gods?”

But I said, “I wish that you would not pronounce the name of the false god aloud, for Pharaoh has forbidden it, and I am the servant of Pharaoh.”

I saw that he was incensed at my words, yet he was a priest of the highest grade, and his will conquered his heart.

Mastering his feelings, he said smiling, “My name is Hrihor; you may denounce me by it to the guards. But I do not fear the guards of false Pharaoh, or his whip or his mines. I heal all those who come to me in the name of Ammon. Let us not dispute these matters; let us rather converse like men of culture. Allow me to invite you to my cell for some wine; you must certainly be weary after sitting for many water measures’ time on a hard seat.”

He led me through stone passages to his cell. By the pressure of the air I knew that we were underground and guessed that these were the vaults of Ammon, of which many tales are told but which no layman is supposed to have seen. Hrihor dismissed the physician from the House of Life, and he and I alone entered his cell—a dwelling place that lacked no comfort to rejoice a man’s heart. His bed was canopied, his coffers and chests were of ivory and black wood, his mats were soft, and the whole room was fragrant with rare spices. Courteously he poured perfumed water over my hands, bade me sit, and offered me honey cakes, fruit, and a venerable, full-bodied wine from Ammon’s vineyard, spiced with myrrh.

We drank together, and he said, “Sinuhe, we know you; we have followed your steps, and we are aware that you bear great love toward the false Pharaoh, also that his false god is less alien to you than we could wish. Yet I assure you that in his god no more is comprehended than exists already in Ammon. Pharaoh’s hatred and persecution have but purified Ammon and made him stronger than before. However, I will not allude to divine matters but will appeal to you as a man who has cured the sick without requiring gifts and as an Egyptian who loves the Black Lands more than the Red. Pharaoh Akhnaton is a curse to the poor and ruin to all Egypt, and he must be overthrown before the evil he has engendered becomes so great as to be irredeemable even by bloodshed.”

I drank his wine and said, “I have had enough of gods; I care not for them. But Pharaoh Akhnaton’s god is different from any that have ever been. He has no image, and all men are equal before him; all, whether poor men, slaves, or even foreigners, have value in his sight. I believe that one cycle is at an end and a new one beginning; at such times even the incredible can happen—things against all reason. Never in any age has such an opportunity occurred for renewing the world and making all men brothers.”

Hrihor raised his hand in protest, smiling, and said, “I see that you dream daydreams, Sinuhe, although I believed you to be a man of sense. My aims are less ambitious. I desire only that all shall be as it was, that the poor may receive full measure and the laws be enforced. I desire only that every man be left to follow his trade in peace and in what faith he chooses. I desire distinction between slave and lord, servant and master; the continued supremacy and honor of Egypt, as a land where children may be born each into his own station and continue in it to his life’s end and where no vain restlessness eats at men’s hearts. All these things do I desire, and therefore Akhnaton must fall.”

He touched my arm appealingly and leaning forward went on, “You, Sinuhe, are a man of moderation and peace, and wish ill to none. We live in a time when each of us must make his choice. He who is not with us is against us and must one day suffer for it. You are not so foolish as to believe that Pharaoh’s rule can long endure? It is a matter of indifference to me which gods you serve; Ammon can survive without your faith. But it is in your power, Sinuhe, to remove the curse from Egypt. It is in your power to restore to Egypt its former majesty.”

His words disturbed me. I drank more of the wine, and my mouth and nostrils were filled with the rich fragrance of myrrh. With a forced laugh I said, “You must have been bitten by a rabid dog or stung by a scorpion, for indeed I have little power of any kind—I cannot even heal the sick as well as you.”

He rose.

“I will show you something.”

Taking up a lamp, he led me out into the passage, where he opened a door that was secured with many locks. He held the lamp to illuminate a cell blazing with gold and silver and precious stones, and he said, “Have no fear: I shall not tempt you with gold. I am not so foolish. But it will do you no harm to see that Ammon is still richer than Pharaoh. I will now show you something else.”

Opening another massive copper door, he threw light into a little cell where, on a stone shelf, lay a waxen image crowned with the double crown, its breast and temples transfixed with sharp bone pins. Involuntarily I raised my hands and recited the prayers that give protection from sorcery, such as I had learned before my initiation as priest of the first grade. Hrihor regarded me with a smile, and the lamp in his hand was steady.

“Do you believe now that Pharaoh’s days are nearly numbered? We have bewitched this image in the name of Ammon and pierced its head and its heart with the sacred pins. Yet the workings of sorcery are slow, and much evil may yet come to pass. Moreover, his god is able to protect him somewhat from our magic. Now that you have seen this, I would speak with you further.”

He secured the doors again with care and led me back to his room, where he refilled my cup with wine. The wine slopped over my chin, and the rim of the cup clattered against my teeth, for I knew that with my own eyes I had seen a sorcery more potent than all others and one that no one hitherto had been able to withstand.

Hrihor said, “From this you may see that Ammon’s power extends even to Akhetaton. Do not ask me how we acquired hairs from his head and clippings from his nails to mix with the wax. I tell you only that we did not buy them for gold but were given them in the name of Ammon.”

Regarding me narrowly and weighing his words with care, he went on, “Ammon’s power increases daily as you saw when I healed the sick in his name. His curse on Egypt daily becomes more terrible; the longer Pharaoh lives, so much more must the people suffer for his sake-and sorcery is slow. What would you say, Sinuhe, if I gave you a medicine to cure Pharaoh’s headaches so that he need never again suffer pain?”

“Men are always subject to pain,” I said. “Only the dead never feel it.”

His burning eyes were on me, and his will chained me to my seat. I could not even raise my hand as he said, “That may be true, but this medicine leaves no trace. No one will blame you, and not even the embalmers will notice anything unusual in his entrails. You need know nothing of it at all; merely give Pharaoh a potion to relieve his headaches. When he has taken it, he will fall asleep, never again to suffer pain or sorrow.”

He raised his hand to prevent my speaking and went on, “I do not bribe you with gold, but if you will do this thing, your name shall be blessed for all eternity and your body shall never be destroyed but shall endure forever. Invisible hands will protect you all the days of your life, and there is no human desire of yours that shall not be fulfilled. This I promise you, having authority so to do.”

He raised his hands. His burning eyes held me, and I could not avoid his gaze! I could not move or rise or even raise my hands. He said, “If I say to you ‘Arise,’ you will do so. If I say ‘Raise your hands,’ you will raise them. But I cannot compel you to bow before Ammon against your will nor induce you to perform deeds to which your heart is opposed. This limits my power over you. I conjure you, Sinuhe, for the sake of Egypt give him this medicine, and cure his headaches forever.”

His hands fell. I could move once more and raise the wine cup to my lips, and I trembled no longer. I breathed in the fragrance of myrrh and said to him, “Hrihor, I promise nothing, but give me the drug. Give me this merciful medicine, for perhaps it is better than poppy juice, and the time may come when Pharaoh himself desires to sleep without waking.”

He gave me the potion in a vessel of colored glass and said, “The future of Egypt lies in your hands, Sinuhe. It is not fitting that any man’s hand be raised against Pharaoh, but so bitter is the misery among the people that the day may come when they remember that even Pharaoh is mortal—that a knife will draw his blood. This must not be, for it would undermine the authority of the Pharaohs. The fate of Egypt lies in your hands, Sinuhe.”

I secured the medicine within my girdle and said mockingly, “Upon the day of my birth the fate of Egypt lay in certain swarthy fingers that knotted reeds together. There are things you do not know, Hrihor, though you fancy yourself omniscient. I have the drug, but remember I promise nothing.”

He smiled, raised his hands in farewell, and said, according to custom, “Great shall be your reward.”

He then accompanied me through the passages, concealing nothing. His eyes could penetrate men’s hearts, and he knew that I should not betray him. I can affirm that the vaults of Ammon lie beneath the great temple, but I will not divulge in what manner they are entered since the secret is not mine.

A few days later the death of Taia, the Queen Mother, occurred. She died of the bite of an asp while overhauling fowling nets in the palace gardens. Her own physician was not at hand as is often the case with physicians when they are most needed, and I was summoned from Thebes. But when I arrived at the golden house, I could do no more than certify her death, for which I could not be blamed, for the bite of an asp is always fatal unless the wound can be incised before the pulse has beaten a hundred times, and the veins above it closed.

Custom required that I should remain in the golden house until the porters from the House of Death arrived to bear away the body. Thus it was I encountered the somber priest, Eie, beside the bier.

He touched the swollen cheeks of the Queen Mother and said, “It was time she died, for she was a repulsive old woman who intrigued against me. Her own acts condemned her, and I hope that now she is dead the unrest among the people will subside.”

I do not think that Eie had murdered her, for he would scarcely have dared to do that: joint crimes and shared secrets form bonds more powerful than those of love.

News of the death spread through Thebes. The citizens arrayed themselves in their best clothes and gathered joyfully in the streets and squares. To gain their favor, Eie caused Queen Taia’s Negro sorcerers to be driven with whips from the cellars of the golden house. There were four of them, also a witch woman as fat and ugly as a hippopotamus. The guards drove them out through the Papyrus Gate, where the mob fell on them and tore them to pieces. Not all their witchcraft availed to save them then. Eie had all the materials of their craft burned where they lay, their drugs and sacred tree stumps also, which I regretted, for I should have been glad to examine these things.