from his mouth, wishing I had water with which to revive him. Horemheb surveyed him and asked coolly, “Is he dying?”
“He is not,” I replied impatiently. “He has the holy sickness.”
Horemheb gripped his spear as he looked at me.
“You need not despise me though I come barefoot and am poor. I can write passably and read what is written, and I shall have command over many. Which god has taken possession of him?”
The people believe that a god speaks through those suffering from the holy sickness, hence his question.
“He has his own god,” I answered, “and I think he is a little queer in the head.”
“He is cold.” Horemheb drew off his cloak and spread it over the prince. “Morning in Thebes is chilly, but my own blood suffices to keep me warm. My god is Horus. This is surely a rich man’s son, for his skin is white and delicate, and he has never worked with his hands. And who are you?”
“A physician and initiate of the first grade of priesthood in Ammon’s temple in Thebes.”
The heir to the throne sat up, moaned, and looked dazedly about him. His teeth chattered as he spoke.
“I have seen! The instant was as a cycle of time-I was ageless-he stretched forth a thousand hands above my head in benediction, and in every hand the symbol of eternal life. Must I not then believe?”
At the sight of Horemheb his eyes cleared, and he was beautiful in his radiant wonder.
“Is it you whom Aton, the one god, has sent?”
“The falcon flew before me, and I followed; that is why I am here. I know no more than that.”
The prince looked with a frown at the others weapon.
“You carry a spear,” he said in rebuke.
Horemheb held it forth.
“The shaft is of choice wood,” he said. “Its copper head longs to drink the blood of Pharaoh’s enemies. My spear is thirsty, and its name is Throat Slitter.”
“Not blood!” cried the prince. “Blood is an abomination to Aton. There is nothing more terrible than flowing blood.”
“Blood purifies the people and makes them strong; it makes the gods fat and contented. As long as there is war, so long must blood flow.”
“There will never be war again,” declared the heir to the throne. Horemheb laughed.
“The lad’s daft! War there has always been and always will be, for the nations must test each other’s worth if they are to survive.”
“All peoples are his children-all languages-all complexions-the black land and the red.” The prince was gazing straight into the sun. “I shall raise temples to him in every land, and to the princes of those lands I shall send the symbol of life-for I have seen him! Of him was 1 born, and to him I shall return.”
“He is mad,” said Horemheb to me, shaking his head in compassion. “I can see he needs a doctor.”
The prince raised his hand in greeting to the sun, and his face was once more filled with a passionate beauty as if he were looking into another world. We let him finish his prayer and then began to lead him toward the city. He made no resistance. The fit had left him weak; he staggered and moaned as he went; so at last we carried him between us, and the falcon flew ahead.
When we came to the edge of cultivation, we saw a royal carrying chair awaiting us. The slaves had lain down upon the ground, and out of the chair stepped a fat priest whose head was shaven and whose dark face was grave and beautiful. I stretched forth my hands at knee level before him, for I took him to be Eie, of whom Ptahor had spoken. But he did not heed me. He threw himself prostrate before the prince and hailed him as king, so I knew that Amenhotep III was dead. The slaves then hastened to tend the new Pharaoh. His limbs were washed, massaged, and anointed, he was robed in royal linen, and upon his head was set the royal headdress.
Meanwhile Eie spoke to me. “Did he meet his god, Sinuhe?”
“He met his god, and I watched over him that no evil might befall. How do you know my name?”
He smiled. “It is for me to know all that goes on within the palace walls. I know your name and that you are a physician and that I might therefore entrust him to your care. You are also one of Amnion’s priests and have sworn him your oath.”
There was a hint of menace in his tone as he said this. Throwing out my hands, I exclaimed, “What signifies an oath to Ammon?”
“You are right and have nothing to repent of. And this spearman?”
He pointed to Horemheb, who was standing apart, testing the spear point on his hand, with the falcon perched upon his shoulder.
“It were better perhaps that he should die,” he added, “for Pharaoh’s secrets are shared by few.”
“He covered Pharaoh with his cloak when it was cold and is ready to wield his spear against Pharaoh’s enemies. I believe he will be more useful to you alive than dead, priest Eie.”
Eie threw a gold ring from his arm toward him, saying carelessly, “You may call upon me some time at the golden house, spearman.”
But Horemheb let the gold ring fall in the sand at his feet and looked defiantly at Eie.
“I take my orders from Pharaoh, and if I am not mistaken, Pharaoh is he who bears the royal headdress. The falcon led me to him, and that is sign enough.”
Eie remained unruffled.
“Gold is costly and is always of use,” he remarked. He picked up the gold ring and put it back upon his arm. “Make your obeisance to Pharaoh, but you must lay aside your spear in his presence.”
The prince stepped forward. His face was pale and drawn but lighted still by a secret ecstasy that warmed my heart.
“Follow me,” he said, “follow me, all of you, upon the new way, for the truth has been revealed to me.”
We walked with him to the chair, though Horemheb mumbled to himself, “Truth lies in my spear.” The porters set off at a trot to where the boat awaited us alongside the landing stage. We returned as we had come, unobserved, though the people stood packed outside the palace walls.
We were allowed to enter the prince’s room, and he showed us big Cretan jars upon which were painted fish and other creatures. Word came that the Queen Mother was on her way to make her obeisance to him, so he gave us leave to go, promising to remember us both. When we had left him, Horemheb said to me in perplexity, “I am at a loss. I have nowhere to go.”
“Stay here with an easy mind,” I counseled him. “He promised to remember you, and it is as well to be at hand when he does. The gods are capricious and quickly forget.”
“Stay here and buzz around with these flies?” he demanded, pointing to the courtiers who were swarming at the prince’s door. “No, I have good reason to be uneasy,” he went on somberly. “What is to become of an Egypt whose ruler is afraid of blood and believes that all nations and languages and colors are of equal merit? I was born a warrior, and my warrior sense tells me that such notions bode ill for such a man as I.”
We parted, and I bade him ask for me at the House of Life if ever he needed a friend.
Ptahor was waiting for me in our room, red eyed and irritable.
“You were absent when Pharaoh drew his last breath at dawn,” he growled. “You were absent, and I slept; and neither of us was there to see Pharaoh’s soul fly from his nostrils straight into the sun, like a bird.”
I told him what had happened that night, and he raised his hands in great astonishment.
“Ammon keep us! Then the new Pharaoh is mad.”
“I think not,” said I doubtfully. “I think he has knowledge of a new god. When his head has cleared, we may see wonders in the land of Kem.”
“Ammon forbid! Pour me out some wine, for my throat is as dry as roadside dust.”
Shortly after this we were conveyed under guard to a pavilion in the House of Justice, where the Keeper of the Seal read the law to us from a leather scroll and told us that we must die since Pharaoh did not recover after his skull had been opened. I looked at Ptahor, but he only smiled when the executioner stepped forward with his sword.
“Let the stauncher of blood go first,” he said. “He is in a greater hurry than we are, for his mother is already preparing pease pottage for him in the Western Land.”
The stauncher of blood took a warm farewell of us, made the holy sign of Ammon, and knelt meekly on the floor before the leather scrolls. The executioner swung his sword in a great arc above the head of the condemned
