The Egyptian by Mika Waltari

Posted by admin_akashic on Mar 4th, 2022 in Stories

astonishment that the floor was of wood and that the walls also were panelled with wood, and trophies from many long voyages hung on the walls: spears of black men and plumes, mussels from the islands in the sea and painted Cretan bowls. Kaptah followed my gaze with pride and said:

“You will certainly be marvelling that the walls are of wood as in rich men’s houses. Know that all the planks are from old ships which have been broken up, and although I do not willingly think of sea voyages, I must mention that this yellow, sea-worn plank has sailed to the land of Punt and this brown one has scraped along the quays of the islands in the sea. But if you may, let us enjoy a tail, which the landlord himself has mixed for us with his own hands.”

A beautiful goblet was placed in my hand, moulded in the form of a mussel shell and held on the palm of the hand, but I did not look at it, having eyes only for the woman who brought it to me. She was perhaps no longer as young as the usual serving girls in taverns, nor did she walk about half-naked across the floor to attract the customers but was decently dressed, with a silver ring in one ear and silver bangles about her slender wrists. She met my gaze fearlessly and did not drop her eyes as is the way of most women. Her eyebrows were plucked fine, and in her eyes could be seen both a smile and a sorrow. They were warm brown, living eyes, and it did one’s heart good to look into them. I took the cup she offered on the flat of my hand, and Kaptah did the same, and instinctively I asked from her, still looking into her eyes, “What is your name, beautiful?”

Her voice was low as she said, “My name is Merit, and it is not seemly to call me beautiful as shy boys do when they first seek to get an excuse to caress the loins of a serving girl. I hope that you will remember this if ever you honour our house again, Sinuhe, the physician, You Who Are Alone.”

Mortified, I answered, “I have not the least desire to caress your loins, fair Merit. But how did you know my name?”

She smiled, and the smile was beautiful on her brown smooth face as she said mockingly, “Your fame has gone before you, Son of the Wild Ass, and seeing you I know that your fame is not a lie but everything is true what your fame has told about you.”

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In the depths of her eyes there lay, like a mirage, some remote grief, and through her smile sought my heart, and for her grief I could not be angry with her but said to her, “If by fame you mean this Kaptah next to me, this former slave of mine, whom today I have made a free man, you know very well that his word is not to be trusted. From birth, his tongue has been incapable of distinguishing truth from falsehood but loves both equally well — or maybe with a small bias toward falsehood. My physician’s skill nor my stick have been unable to cure this ailment.”

She said, “Falsehood may be sweeter than truth when one is much alone and past his first spring. I like to believe your words when you say ‘fair Merit,’ and I believe all that your face tells me. But will you not taste of the crocodile’s tail I have brought you, for I am curious to know whether it may be compared with any of the drinks in the strange lands you have visited.”

Still with my eyes on her, I raised the bowl and drank, but then I looked at her no longer for the blood rose to my head, I began to choke, and my throat seemed on fire. When at last I found my breath again, I said, “I will take back all what I said of Kaptah, for in this matter at least he did not lie. Your drink is stronger than any I have tasted and more fiery than the earth oil the Babylonians burn in their lamps, and I do not doubt that it would fell even a strong man like a blow from a crocodile’s tail.”

Saying this, I listened to myself, and my body was afire, and in my scorched mouth lingered the tang of spices and balms. My heart took wings like a swallow, and I said, “By Seth and all the devils, I cannot think how this drink has been mixed, nor do I know whether it has bewitched me, Merit, or your eyes have done so — but magic flows in my limbs, and my heart is young once more, and do not be surprised if I put my hand on your loins, for it is this bowl that will be to blame and not I.”

She drew back carefully and raised her hands in mockery, as she was slender and long-limbed, and she smiled saying to me, “It is not becoming of you to swear, for this is a decent tavern, and I am not yet

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