The other case was a simple one: the patient was a young boy whom the guards had found lying senseless in the street, having been robbed. His head was beaten in, and he was at the point of death. I chanced to be at the House of Life when he was brought in and saw that I had nothing to lose by operating as the physicians refused to attend him, being convinced that he must die. I opened the crushed skull as rapidly as possible, removed the splinters of bone from his brain, and covered the hole with a plate of purified sliver. He recovered and was still alive when I left Thebes two weeks later, although he found difficulty in moving his arms and could feel nothing when his hands and the soles of his feet were tickled with a feather. I believed that in time he would be completely cured. The case was remarkable in that its urgency had given me no time to shave his head before operating, and when I had stitched the scalp together again over the silver plate, the hair went on growing as before and entirely hid the scar.
Although I was treated with respect in the House of Life because of my position, the older physicians avoided me and withheld their confidence, for I was from Akhetaton, while they were governed by fear of the false god. I never spoke to them of Aton and discussed professional matters only with them. Day after day they sought to read my mind, and sniffed about me like dogs on a trail until I marveled at their behavior.
At length, after the third skull operation, a certain physician of exceptional wisdom and proficiency approached me and said, “Royal Sinuhe, you must have observed that the House of Life is emptier than in former days and that our knowledge is less sought after than it once was, although there are as man*y sick people as ever in Thebes, and more. You have traveled in many countries, Sinuhe, and seen many cures, yet I doubt if you have seen such healing as is performed secretly in Thebes today. This healing requires neither knife nor fire, neither medicine nor bandages. I have been instructed to tell you of it and to invite you to witness some examples. You must promise not to speak of what you see, and you must suffer your eyes to be blindfolded when you are conveyed to the sacred healing place, that you may remain in ignorance of where it lies.”
His words repelled me, for I feared trouble with Pharaoh, and yet my curiosity was aroused. I said, “I have indeed heard that strange things are happening in Thebes. Men tell tales and women see visions, but of cures I have heard nothing. As a physician I am exceedingly skeptical of cures effected without knife or fire, medicine or bandages, and I prefer not to involve myself in deceptions lest my name be taken falsely, to testify to things that do not exist and cannot occur.”
He protested eagerly.
“We believed you to be without prejudice, royal Sinuhe, since you are widely traveled and have learned much that is unknown in Egypt. Flowing blood can be stanched without the use of forceps or hot irons; why then may not cures be effected without knives or fire? Your name shall not be linked with the affair, of that we can assure you, but we have our reasons for desiring you in particular to see these things and to satisfy yourself that there is no deception. You are alone, Sinuhe, an impartial witness. That is what we want.”
His words astonished me and whetted my curiosity. As a doctor I was ever eager to learn new things, and I agreed to come. When darkness had fallen, he called at my house with a carrying chair. I stepped into it, and he bound my eyes with a cloth so that I might not see the direction we were taking. On our arrival he led me through passages and up and down many steps until I was weary and told him I had had enough of the foolery. He pacified me, removed the bandage from my eyes, and led me to a stone hall where many lamps were burning.
Three sick people lay on litters on the floor, and a priest came to meet me, shaven headed and gleaming with oil. He addressed me by name and invited me to examine the patients thoroughly and satisfy myself that there was no trickery. His voice was steady and gentle and his aspect wise. I did as he asked, assisted by the surgeon from the House of Life.
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
