I was abashed at her words, for she spoke the truth, and truth has often this effect.
So I answered her, “Oh, Merit my friend-I am already old, and finished.”
But she retorted, “So you fancy, but your eyes when you look at me are far from old, and I am glad of this.”
“Merit, for the sake of our friendship, make haste to bring me a crocodile’s tail lest I become outrageous in my manner toward you, which would ill become my dignity as skull surgeon to the household, especially in a harbor tavern.”
She brought me the drink in a shell and set it on my palm. The drink burned my throat, which was accustomed to mellow wines, yet the burning was sweet to me for my other hand rested upon her flank.
“Merit,” I said, “you once told me that a lie may be sweeter than the truth to one who is alone and whose first spring is over. And so I tell you that my heart still flowers and is young at the sight of you; long are the years that have severed us, and not one day of them has passed but I have whispered your name to the wind; I have sent my greeting to you with the swallows as they flew upstream, and every morning I have awakened with your name on my lips.”
She looked at me, and in my sight she was slender still, and beautiful. In the depths of her eyes was a glint of smiles and sorrow, as in the waters of a deep well. She stroked my cheek with her hand and said, “You speak beautifully, Sinuhe-why should I not also confess that my heart has yearned for you and my hands have sought yours when at night I have lain alone upon my mat? Whenever by reason of the crocodile’s tail some man has talked nonsense to me, I remembered you with sadness. But in Pharaoh’s golden house there must be many fair women, and no doubt as a physician you have used your leisure hours conscientiously on their behalf.”
It is true that I had taken pleasure with some of the court ladies who in their boredom came to ask my professional advice. Their skin was smooth as fruit and soft as down, and in winter especially it was warmer to lie two in a bed than singly. But it was trivial and I have not troubled to record it in my book. I replied, “Merit, if I have not always slept alone, it is true that you are the only woman who is my friend.”
The crocodile’s tail worked within me. My body was growing as young as my heart, and a sweet fire ran through my veins as I said, “Doubtless many men have shared your mat during this time, but you would do well to warn them of me as long as I remain in Thebes, for when roused I am a violent man! When I fought against the Khabiri, the soldiers of Horemheb named me the Son of the Wild Ass.”
She raised her hands in mock terror and said, “That is what I have so greatly dreaded, for Kaptah has told me of many wild skirmishes and brawls into which you were led by your fiery nature and from which you were rescued only through his fidelity and resolution.”
When I heard Kaptah’s name and guessed at all the shameless lies he must have told her of myself and my life in foreign lands, my heart melted within me, and tears streamed from my eyes as I cried, “Where is Kaptah, my former slave and servant, that I may embrace him? For my heart has missed him sorely, unbecoming though it be in me to speak thus of a slave.”
Merit strove to silence me.
“Truly I see that you are unaccustomed to crocodiles’ tails and my father is looking wrathfully in our direction because of your noise. You will not see Kaptah before evening, for his time is taken up with important business at the corn exchange and in the taverns. You will be astounded when you meet him, for he hardly remembers that he was once a slave and carried your sandals on a stick across his shoulders. I will take you out for a breath of cool air before he comes. You will doubtless wish to see how Thebes has changed since you were here, and in this way we can be alone.”
She went to change her dress and anoint her face and adorn herself with gold and silver. Only by her hands and feet could she have been distinguished from a lady of the aristocracy, though perhaps few ladies had so clear and steady a glance as hers or so proud a mouth. I bade the slaves carry us along the Avenue of Rams, and we sat close together in the chair so that I breathed the scent of her ointments, which was the scent of Thebes, more pungent and intoxicating than all the rare cosmetics of Akhetaton. I held her hand in mine, and there was not one evil thought left in my heart. After a long journey I had come home.
We approached the temple, where black birds circled and squawked above the emptiness, for they had never returned to their hills but settled within the precincts. This was accursed ground and repugnant to the people. We stepped from the chair and wandered through the deserted forecourts; the only folk we saw were those about the Houses of Life and of Death. To move these institutions would have been too costly and troublesome a business. Merit told me that people avoided the House of Life also, for which reason most of the physicians had moved into the city itself to carry on their profession. We walked in the temple garden, but grass overgrew the paths, and its trees had been felled and stolen. The only people we encountered in the gardens which Pharaoh had turned into a public park and playground were one or two dirty, skulking vagabonds who gave us sidelong looks.
Merit said, “You chill my heart in bringing me to this evil place. Doubtless, the cross of Aton will protect us though I would prefer you to remove it from your collar since because of it you might be stoned. Hatred is still rife in Thebes.”
She spoke truly. When we had come back to the open place before the temple, the people spat on the ground when they saw my cross. I was astonished to observe one of the priests of Ammon walking boldly among the crowd with his head shaven, despite Pharaoh’s order, and arrayed in white. His face gleamed, his robe was of the finest linen, and he seemed to have suffered no hardship. The people made way for him with veneration. Prudence bade me keep one hand on my breast to hide the cross of Aton, for I was loath to be the cause of needless uproar.
We paused by the wall where a storyteller sat on his mat with an empty bowl before him. His audience stood in a ring, and the poorest among them sat on the ground, having no need to consider their clothes. The story he was telling I had never heard before, for he spoke of a false Pharaoh who had lived many, many years ago and whose mother was a black witch. By the will of Set, this witch won the love of the good Pharaoh and gave birth to the false one, who sought the ruin of the Egyptian people and would have bound them in slavery to Nubians and savages. He overthrew the statues of Ra so that Ra cursed the land, which became barren. The people were drowned by mighty floods, locusts devoured the standing crops, and pools were transformed into foul-smelling blood. But the days of the false Pharaoh were numbered, for the power of Ra was greater than that of Set. The false Pharaoh died a miserable death, as did also the witch his mother, and Ra struck down all those who had denied him, and he divided their houses and goods and land among those who had remained steadfast to him throughout these trials and believed in his return.
This tale was very long and very exciting, and the people shuffled their feet and raised their hands in impatience to hear what the con- elusion might be. My mouth also hung open as I listened. When the story was ended and the false Pharaoh received his punishment and was hurled into the bottomless pit-when his name had been cursed and Ra had rewarded his faithful-then the listeners leaped and cried out in their delight and threw coppers into the storyteller’s bowl.
I was greatly puzzled and said to Merit, “This is a new tale, which I have never heard before, although I fancied I had learnt them all as a child since my mother Kipa was passionately fond of them and favored the storytellers highly-to such a degree that my father Senmut would sometimes menace them with his stick when she fed them in our kitchen. Yes, this is a new story. Were it not impossible, I should say that it concerns Pharaoh Akhnaton and the false god whose name we dare not speak aloud. This tale should be forbidden!”
Merit smiled.
“Who can forbid a story? This one is told in both Kingdoms, at every gateway and beneath every wall in the smallest villages, and the people love it. When the guards threaten the storytellers, these maintain that the tale is an ancient one-and they can prove it, for the priests have found it in writings that are centuries old. Therefore the guards cannot prevent it although I have heard that Horemheb, who is a stern man and cares nothing for proofs and writings, has had a few storytellers hung from the walls and has thrown their bodies to the crocodiles.”
Merit held my hand and smiled as she continued, “Many prophecies are spoken of in Thebes. Whenever two. men meet, they tell one another of the prophecies they have heard, and of ill omens. As you know the grain stocks are dwindling, the poor people starve, and taxes lie heavily upon rich and poor. Worse things are foretold, and I tremble when I think of all the evil with which these prophecies threaten us.”
I withdrew my hand from hers, and my heart also. The crocodile’s tail had long cleared from my head, which now ached. My spirits drooped, and her dull stubbornness did nothing to cheer me. So we returned sulkily to the tavern, and I knew that what Pharaoh Akhnaton had said was true: “Aton shall separate the child from its mother and the man from the sister of his heart until his kingdom is established upon earth.” But I had no wish to be
