The-Egyptian-by-Mika-Waltari

The Egyptian by Mika Waltari

Pharaoh Akhenaten ate only porridge made in milk from a golden plate, and a fragile head of an antelope was moulded by a goldsmith to the handle of his golden spoon. Having eaten his porridge, he broke some dry bread and ate it and did not drink wine, but unmixed water was poured to his golden cup. When he was finished eating, he said loudly, face bright and anxious:

“Tell all people that Pharaoh Akhenaten lives by the truth, and his meal is water and bread and poor man’s porridge, and there is no difference between his meal and the meal of the poorest farmer.”

After this, he greatly praised the bread that Aten had blessed and the ground grains that Aten had blessed and the clear water that Aten had blessed. Those who wanted to please him, refused, when they were offered meat of the reed dove, goose made in the Theban way and honey cakes, and settled with bread and water like Pharaoh, remaining hungry — for the meal lasted for a long time, as a total of twelve different meat dishes and eight different pastries and various ice creams were served. One could see from their roasted faces and arms and legs that they were those who Pharaoh had promoted from amongst the lowest to his side as counsellors in various state affairs. I did not doubt their intelligence or knowledge for many of them had wise eyes and a fair forehead, but reverence should not have prevented them from eating as the rest of the courtiers ate everything that was offered without scruple and drank wine and became merry and noisy and derisive.

Later, I learned and saw for myself that Pharaoh Akhenaten did not despise wine but delighted his heart with it when everything went according to his will. And he did not despise a fat goose or antelope meat, and it was only when he felt he needed to cleanse his body before seeing visions that the meat of living animals repulsed him. He was very fickle when it came to eating and drinking, and I think it was because eating and drinking did not mean to him as much as to other people, and he did not pay too much attention to what he ate and drank when his heart was full and thoughts rushed into his mind so vividly that he could not dictate them to his scribes completely.

 

 

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I believe he would have settled for a farmer’s simple meal to be equal to his poorest subjects. But as the evening went on, he got up from his seat and went to his guests as the rejoicing host and touched their shoulders with his long fingers and addressed them, and while standing next to them, he occasionally took a bird’s leg or a fruit or a honey cake from their plates, chewing it absent-mindedly as he spoke — and he must not have noticed what he did for he was not a pretender. But those who had settled for porridge and bread looked malevolently and hungrily at every mouthful that went down his long, thin throat. And when he felt thirsty from talking a lot, he could drink wine from the same cup of the one he had spoken with to express his special favour. This was also a sign that the guest could take the cup from which Pharaoh had tasted to his home and keep it as an expensive memory and show it to his children, and this was quite beneficial since the cups were beautiful and expensive. This way, I also took a cup with me as a memory — a large golden one which weighed two debens — for its sides were moulded with golden grapes.

The guests started getting up and moving from table to table to meet friends and exchange court gossip. A short, broad-faced man wearing royal linen with gold about his neck and wrists approached me. Only from his brown, playful eyes I recognised him as Thutmose, and I cried from joy and got up to embrace him. I told him I had looked for him at The Syrian Jar, but he said:

“It is not suitable for my dignity to socialise in lowly wine taverns, and I am busy enough drinking all that my high-ranking friends and patrons offer me in their houses. He, the enlightened one, has appointed me as the royal sculptor, as you can read from my chain. It was me who drew him the sun disk of Aten and the countless arms that reach from the rays to offer the cross of life to everyone who wants to receive it.”

“Thutmose, my friend,” I said. “Have you sculpted the King to the pillars of the great temple of Aten, for I have never seen anything like that?”

He answered evasively and said, “There are many sculptors in the service of Pharaoh, and we work together with our only laws being our eyes. We do not dishonour Pharaoh but we love him and want to express his true form in our sculptures. Truly, my friend Sinuhe, today

 

 

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