But no one made bold to persecute me, because I was a royal physician, and everyone in the poor quarter by the harbour knew me and my work. Therefore no crosses or shameful pictures appeared on my walls, and no carcasses were flung into my courtyard, and even the drunken rioters avoided my house when they wandered the streets at night, shrieking the name of Amun to annoy the guards. Respect for those who bore the sign of Pharaoh was in the people’s very blood, despite everything the priests did to convince the people that Pharaoh Akhenaten was a false Pharaoh.
But one hot day little Thoth came home from playing, beaten and bruised, with blood running from his nose and a tooth missing from his jaw though he could hardly afford losing a tooth since he was developing his permanent teeth and his mouth already looked funny. He came home sobbing although striving to be very brave, and Muti was greatly aghast and wept with rage as she washed his face. Having washed his face, Muti was unable to control herself any longer, and seizing a washing club in her bony fist, she cried, “Amun or Aten, it is all one, but this the rush weaver’s brats shall pay for.” She was gone before I could stop her, and soon from the street came the howls of boys and the oaths of a grown man and cries for help, and Thoth and I peeped fearfully out through the door and saw Muti thrashing in the name of Aten all five sons of the rush weaver, his wife and even the man himself so that he tried to protect his head with hands in vain and bled from his nose.
Presently, Muti returned, still panting with fury, and when I sought to upbraid her and explain that hatred bred hatred and vengeance begot vengeance, she came near to beating also me with the washing club. In the course of the day, her conscience began to trouble her, and having packed honey cakes and a jar of beer in a basket, she took them and an unworn garment to the rush weaver and made peace with him and his wife and his children and said, “Keep your brats in line just as I keep mine, meaning the son of my master. It is not appropriate that good neighbours start arguing about horns and crosses for truly I will show my bare behind to any god who hurts my son and makes his nose bleed.”
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After this incident, the rush weaver held Muti in great veneration and wore the gift garment on festival days, and his boys became the friends of Thoth and pilfered honey cakes from our kitchen and together fought as much with the sons of horns as with sons of crosses whenever those strayed onto our street to make mischief — and Thoth fought beside them so that not even Seth could have told if he was a horn or a cross. But my heart quivered for small Thoth each time he went to play on the street. Yet I did not want to stop him for he had to learn to hold his own and get his cup full. I nevertheless said to him every day, “Words are stronger than fists, Thoth. Knowledge is stronger than ignorance, believe me.”
5
There remains little to say of this sojourn in Thebes, but yet I continue to tell about Thebes for after this there are only bad things left to tell. Under Pharaoh’s orders, I also needed to visit the golden house, though I greatly feared going there for Mehunefer’s sake and I scampered between guards and courtiers like a rabbit in bushes fearing for her vulture claws. There I met with the bearer of the crook Ay, and he was extremely gloomy and worried, and he spoke to me openly, saying:
“Sinuhe, everything slips from my fingers, and I fear that tomorrow is even worse than today. Try to speak sense to Pharaoh, if you can, and if you can’t do anything, then at least make him drink narcotic medicines so that he stays in stupor and forgets his dreams since his orders are becoming increasingly mad, and I doubt he has any idea what is about to happen. Indeed, the power has started to taste sour in my mouth, and that accursed Horemheb is conspiring against me and stops grain loads at Memphis that I have sent to Syria according to our peace agreement in order to receive gold. That Horemheb becomes more impudent by the day and does not take my orders any more but rules in Memphis as if he was Pharaoh’s deputy — though he well knows that I am Pharaoh’s deputy here. Truly, soon the crook is powerless in my hand, and my flail has no effect for Pharaoh has forbidden capital punishment, and no criminal can be thrashed with sticks. How does he think the people will respect laws when a thief’s
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