Ancient Evenings

  “ ‘It is the Hittites we will meet,’ said Ramses the Second sitting beside me on the floor, ‘and they fight with three men in each chariot. They are strong, but slow. They fight with bow and arrow, and with the sword and spear and,’—He took His time to say the next—‘sometimes they fight with an axe. They live in a country that has many trees, and they know how to use the axe.’

  “In this darkness, I could not be certain of His expression, but I felt a new kind of fear. How wonderful is a new fear! It is like a face one has never seen before. It gives a thrill to new parts of one’s flesh. While it was one thing to be killed by a sword, and that was bad enough, there were now lamentations along my back and in my arms and thighs at the thought of being mangled by an axe.

  “ ‘The Hittites have long black beards,’ said my Ramses, ‘and there is old food in such growth, and vermin, and their hair is matted on their shoulders. They are uglier than bears, and cannot live without the blood of battle. If they capture you, they are the worst foe of all. They will put a ring through your lips to jerk your head as you march, and some will flay you alive. So, of the Hittites I capture, I will bring back a hundred, and they will build My tomb.’ He smiled, and while He did not speak His thought, I saw those Hittites as they would look when the work was done, and they were without their tongues. ‘Yes,’ He said, ‘it is better than using Egyptians.’

  “Now He stopped, and looked at me, and on His face was the same smile He had when He saw the peasant girl. If I could have moved, perhaps He would have done no more than smile, but I did not wish to, I could not, and He stood up then and seized the hair of my head even as His Father Seti held the head of captured slaves, and His member was before me. Then He came forth into my mouth from the excitement of looking into my face. No man had I allowed to do this to me before. Then, still holding my hair, He threw me to my knees, grasped me about the waist, and with not a scruple, thrust up the middle of me tearing I know not what, but I heard a clangor in my head equal to the great door of a temple knocked open by the blow of a log carried forward at a run by ten good men, it was with the force of ten good men that He took me up my bowels, and I lay with my face on the stony soil of the cave, while a bat screamed overhead. I heard Usermare cry out, ‘Your ass, little Meni’—even though I was near to His height and could equal His weight—‘your ass, little Meni, is Mine, and I give you a million years and infinity, your ass, little Meni, is sweet,’ wherefore He came forth with such a force that something in the very sanctuary of myself flew open, and the last of my pride was gone. I was no longer myself but His, and loved Him, and knew I would die for Him, but I also knew I would never forgive Him, not when I ate, not when I drank, and not when I defecated. Like an arrow flew one thought through my mind: It was that I must revenge myself.

  “ ‘We shall never be destroyed in battle,’ He said. ‘We are now the beast that moves with its own four legs.’ And He gave a last kiss and sighed as if He had eaten all of a banquet. But I knew the taste in my mouth of the Very Green and the blood of my bowels kept knocking on my heart.

  “We climbed down and walked back in the moonlight, watching the clouds pass over the stars. I could hear their voices. You can hear the voice of a cloud if you are silent enough on a quiet night although that whisper is near to the most quiet sound of them all. In the dawn as we came back with our chariot to the boat on the riverbank, we stopped to watch the flight of a hawk, and I knew that bird of Horus was most intimate to the sun, for it would see the first rising to the east while we still breathed in the dark to the west.”

  FIVE

  Menenhetet was well aware of how we felt. The smile on his lips was thin when Ptah-nem-hotep looked away. I had seen a thief’s face once just before his hand was chopped off in a public square—Eyaseyab having rushed to the sight in the heat of curiosity. The thief gave a smile, that peculiar ridiculous grimace we offer when we have been caught in a trivial act.

  The thief lost his smile when the blade came down. I woke up screaming on many a night at the look of bewilderment in his eyes. For the thief looked like he was falling to his death.

  Now I saw just such a look on my great-grandfather’s face, and I knew he was still living in the dust of the cave of Usermare’s tomb. Nonetheless he shrugged. He had the look of a donkey laboring beneath bags of grain he had carried every day of his life.

  “I knew,” he now said, “that I would never forget. And I did not. But I have never spoken of it until this evening. Now, I will speak of it again. For I have never known more shame than in the days that followed. Yet a great part of this shame was for the joy of remembering. My bowels felt gilded. The light of a God was in my chest. A God had entered me. I was not like other men, although I felt more of a woman.”

  It was true. As he spoke, the woe lifted from my parents, and from Ramses the Ninth as well. They felt troubled, and I could know their shame—it was not unlike the way I would feel when still too young to control myself in bed, I would soil my linen. Yet I also felt their respect for Menenhetet and it was different now, and not without the finest awe. For he was no longer alone before us. Another presence was with him.

  “I remember,” he said, “that I did not sleep for two days, and thought the moon had entered my heart. I saw nothing but a pale radiance within. I vowed I would never allow Usermare-Setpenere to enter me again, and that was equal to admitting I was terrified of seeing Him, I, who had never been frightened of any man. Still, if He were to make the attempt, I would have to resist, and that would be my death. So I wondered how to avoid the presence of my Majesty, and kept wondering, until I realized that He, by His turn, was avoiding me. For no sooner had we returned on that dawn to Thebes than my King was occupied with mobilizing His troops for the march into Syria against the Hittites, and messengers were sent to bring up troops from Syene and others went north to Memphi, and Busiris in the Delta, and Buto and Tanis, to inform the garrisons how many men would be called. All the while, we were busy in Thebes collecting our own stores.

  “Then, we embarked on boats, some three thousand of us from Thebes, plus a thousand horses, a total of thirty boats, and we took five days going down the river to Memphi. Our bodies sat so close to one another on the deck that when fights commenced from the fretting of one chin on another’s back, there was not room to reply in any better way than to bite the other man’s nose, and twice I did. They carried the mark on their face until they died. Let me say, and it is obvious, I should think, that I was not on the Falcon-Ship. On most days, that Royal Barge was so far downstream we could not even see the reflection from the gold of His mast, although I could hear the sounds of laughter. That came back over the water. In fact, I did not see my King again for Fifteen days until we came to Gaza where the army was at last assembled, but even there I was never near Him alone for we camped on a vast plain full of dust from the drilling of new detachments, and the clouds left by our chariots. It was, all the same, preferable to the boat. There, two hundred of us had been packed in, the support for your back no more than the knees of the soldier behind you, and no way to feel sorry for yourself, because on either side of our rank of six men was a poor oarsman pumping on the oars even as he pumped his life out. They say it is easier to row downstream, and it is, but not much when you are rowing steadily, and besides, the pace is faster. Pressed together in the open hold with the red mainsail spread over us as an awning, we were not able to see the sky—just as well in that heat. We had nothing but the gasp of those fellows pulling on their lungs to the creak of the oars, and I never saw more than the bodies in front of me, or the naked sweat of the oarsmen to either side, their raised benches blocking all view of the horizon. Nor did I even feel the thousand limbs of the river passing beneath, nor hear the rustle of the water, no, in the hold of that boat with two hundred other soldiers, we heard nothing but grunts, and were fed nothing but grain and water until we farted like cattle. With so much fermentation in the gas, you could get drunk from breathing it. There was a monkey tha
t belonged to the captain and I believe the monkey did get drunk, or maybe it was his excitement at being handled by so many of us, whatever, he was the only entertainment we had. He would make me laugh until the veins in my head came near to breaking, for when the captain would stand in the bridge near the bow, his fat buttocks squeezed together, his hand shielding his eyes against the glare of the river, so would the monkey do the same, and we would roar. Yet all the while I was laughing, I was also sitting on my sore seat, not knowing if I had a wound in which to take pride or shame, and so feeling like the lowest servant of the Gods. Like the monkey among us.

  “In Gaza, I never saw the city. They said it was now an Egyptian city, but we camped out in the desert and drank goats’ milk, which did not reduce our gas. To travel is to break wind—as our saying goes—and in the tents we talked of nothing but fresh food. Once our legs were back, for I could hardly walk after two weeks on the boat, we charioteers went out foraging and even ate some goose. We roasted it near a grove of dead trees and the wood of the fire was silver and blazed with a heat like the sun from the fat that dripped on it. There was a happiness in that fire as if the wood, drier than bone, had slaked its thirst at last.

  “Then the King called a great council of all of us together in His leather tent which was as large as twenty tents, and more than a hundred of us sat in a council of war in a large circle about Him. Our Ramses the Second never looked more magnificent, and had made a new friend since last I saw Him. A lion, on a short leash, stood by His right side.

  “This lion, Hera-Ra, was a remarkable beast. How it had been tamed, I do not know—it came in tribute from Nubia—but the Pharaoh received it only the week before we left, and it was said that neither the King nor the animal could now bear to be without the other. That gave me the first jealousy I ever felt. I did not know whether I had been treated lately like the lowest of charioteers because Usermare-Setpenere had lost respect for me, or just found the lion more attractive. I even wondered if the King dared to treat the buttocks of the lion in the way He had mine. It was not an absurd thought if you knew Ramses the Second. Left to yourself, your will might feel strong as rock, but when He looked in your eyes, or seized you, like His Father, by the hank of your hair, then your will flowed away into the thousand limbs of water. Certainly, there was an understanding between Him and this Hera-Ra. Face-of-Ra indeed, the lion had a head more like a God than a man, and looked at everyone with a large and intelligent calm that had much friendliness in it, something like the way a two-year-old noble will think of all who come near as bearers of great pleasure for himself. The noble, of course, is spoiled, and flies into a rage so soon as the first wrong sound offends his ear—like this, was the lion. Like this, for that matter, was Usermare-Setpenere. They both looked at you with the same friendly interest.

  “But it is true. I was jealous of Face-of-Ra and felt a weak smile on my lips at the way the lion listened to all that was said, then turned to his friend and Monarch. Once, when two officers spoke at the same time, each trying to gain the King’s ear, Hera-Ra was on his feet, his great blunt nose pointing in turn toward each of them, as though to fix their smell forever in his nostrils, these disputants. He was no doubt thinking that he would bite their heads off. All the while, I was telling myself that if it came to it, I would bite his nose off before he came near mine. Yes, I hated that lion.

  “I had never been in a council of war before, and so I would not have known if it were always as calm as on this meeting, although the presence of Hera-Ra gave caution to all that was said. Even the quiver of his hind leg offered a suggestion of impatience, and once when he yawned at a long tale told by a scout who had discovered nothing of the enemy in his searches, it was obvious the fellow had spoken long enough.

  “As each said his piece, I came to learn that many of these strange officers were Governors or Generals who ruled over many places in this region from which our Two-Lands received tribute. So my Monarch had summoned them to Gaza to report on the armies of the Hittites. Those legions seemed to have disappeared, however. There was no word of them. In Megiddo and Phoenicia the country was quiet. On the banks of the Orontes, no movement. Palestine and Syria were sleeping. Lebanon was calm.

  “The Prince, Amen-khep-shu-ef, now spoke, and as He did, Hera-Ra laid his paw on the knee of the Pharaoh Who in turn covered that paw with His own hand. ‘My Father,’ said Amen-khep-shu-ef in a clear voice, ‘if I may speak My opinion.’

  “ ‘No opinion could be more valuable,’ His Father said.

  “The Prince, now thirteen, was already like a man. He looked more a brother than a son, and since Nefertiri, as I believe I have said, was Usermare’s sister, you could say the father was the uncle as well. It is certain Amen-khep-shu-ef spoke to the Pharaoh as to an elder brother of whom He was envious. ‘Having listened,’ He remarked, ‘to all that has been said, I am ready to think the King of the Hittites is a coward. He dare not come to us in battle but will hide behind the walls of his city. We will not see his face. So our armies must prepare to lay siege. It will be years until the last of the Hittites has fallen.’

  “He not only spoke like a man, but an adviser. He had a deep voice, and if you did not look at His young face, you might have thought He was as old as His father. Certainly all who heard Him were impressed. Some of the Generals could not have followed His words more closely if they had been listening to a command of the Pharaoh, and they nodded when He was done. A few were even so brave as to ask permission of Usermare to speak, and then offered their agreement to the words of the Prince. Since they rushed forward without knowing the opinion of the Pharaoh, I thought them so stupid I would not have liked to serve in their command. Then I realized they were all of the same party, and must have spoken to each other before this council, everybody from Amen-khep-shu-ef in His white pleated skirt and jeweled sword to the roughest of our provincial Generals with chest-hair as thick as the hide of a bear, and a broken face looking as mangled by old battles as the rocks and gullies of the Place of Truth. But I soon ceased to wonder what they would gain. It was simple. If Usermare-Setpenere agreed with His son, He would not wish to lead the campaign. Given the breadth of His impatience, how could He bear a mean struggle in which His armies would be reduced by illness faster than by battle? Indeed the prospect might prove so boring that He would soon depart, leaving Amen-khep-shu-ef to conduct the siege. That could be agreeable for the Prince. In His Father’s absence, He would live as a King.

  “It was obvious my Pharaoh was not happy with this discussion. I was hardly prepared to say anything at this point, but on the next instant, Ramses the Second, not having had a glance for me during all these weeks on the river, nor at Gaza, now passed over His other advisers and, as if I were the veteran of ten campaigns, inquired what I thought. I must say I had a tongue that had rested through these weeks and was in secret as lively as a horse in need of exercise. In fact I had to take care not to speak too quickly. To make the Pharaoh strain to follow your argument was a discourtesy. So I reined in my voice. Yet I still had much to say. (I had, after all, heard much gossip on the boat.) ‘Foundation-of-Eternity-in-Ra,’ I began, ‘the King of the Hittites has called forth his allies and it is said that the Mysians, the Lysians, and the Dardanians are with him, as well as the soldiers of Ilion, Pedasos, Carchemish, Arvad, Ekereth, and Aleppo. These peoples are barbaric. While they may be fierce in battle, they are also impatient.’

  “Now I saw the King close His eyes, as if a thought unpleasant to Himself had passed through His mind, and Hera-Ra yawned in my face. Already, I had spoken too much. I can say that the crease between my buttocks began to itch, and the loins of this lion were so unruly that I could swear they began to swell. A red tip appeared, and all for the word impatient. All the same, the seriousness of our discussion obliged Ramses the Second to separate His temper from His irritations. He gave a thwack to the back of the lion, as if to say ‘Do not frighten this soldier until he has finished speaking,’ and gave a nod. He would forgi
ve me for reminding Him that there could be similarities between a barbarian and Himself. I went on, therefore: ‘These enemy soldiers want our bodies to roast by the fire. They want plunder. If that does not happen soon, they will talk of going back to their own countries. If I were the Hittite King, I would not wish to keep such troops for a siege. I would want to bring them into battle.’

  “ ‘Then where are they?’ asked my King.

  “I bowed, I struck my head to the ground seven times for I did not wish to insult Ramses the Second a second time by disclosing my reply too quickly. Instead, I addressed Him by so many of His great names that the tongue of Hera-Ra lolled in pleasure, and then I said, ‘The King of the Hittites knows every hill and valley of Lebanon. I fear, Good and Great God, that the Hittites will try to come down on our flank as we march.’

  “I knew the Prince Amen-khep-shu-ef was furious. I had made an enemy. But I also saw that our King was as the center of a wheel on a chariot. We, who were advisers, were His spokes. We could never be friends with one another. ‘The peasant who knows so much about horses that he has become Your First Charioteer,’ said Amen-khep-shu-ef, ‘speaks of impatient barbarians as if that is the truth on which we may depend. But where is the King of the Hittites? No enemy walks in our sight. No spy speaks to us. I say they hide in their forts and will stay there. Barbarians do not possess that royal strength some see as impatience. Rather they are stupid like cattle and can wait forever.’ The Prince now looked at me with all the force of the oldest son of Usermare-Setpenere. Although He resembled His mother and had dark hair, His Father’s confidence was in His manner. Any thought that came to Him was an offering from the Gods and so could not be false—so said His manner.