The Egyptian by Mika Waltari

Posted by admin_akashic on Mar 4th, 2022 in Stories

He spoke slyly, but I was still astonished about his words and asked, “So you plan to labour and work all your life to gather enough gold to pay your debt to this crazy old man, who squeaks behind my door?”

Kaptah drank wine and smacked his mouth, saying, “It indeed pays to lie a few weeks on hard rocks in a dark dungeon and drink rotting water to fully appreciate soft seats, good light and the taste of wine in a man’s mouth. But no, Sinuhe, no — I am not as crazy as you think I am. Nevertheless, a given word is a given word, and therefore we have no other way, but you have to cure the man’s eyesight so that I can teach him to play dice with me. He was an avid dice player before the constant darkness made him blind, and I can naturally do nothing about it if he loses while he plays dice with me — and you might guess that I plan to play dice with high stakes.”

As far as I understood, this was the only respectable way how Kaptah could free himself from his impossible debt, for Kaptah was an expert dice player if the dice was of his own choosing. Therefore I promised to use all my skill to make the old man see at least enough to recognise the pips on the dice, and in return Kaptah promised to send Muti so much silver that Muti could rebuild the old copper founder’s house in Thebes and survive while I was away. Such we agreed between us, and I asked the old man in, with Kaptah assuring him he would pay his debt if he got a little more time to pay; and I examined the man’s eyes and noticed that his blindness was not caused by darkness but by an old eye disease which had been left without treatment. The following day, I cured his eyes with a needle, like I had learned to cure eyesights in the Mitannian way. But I could not guarantee how long he could see since eyes cured by a needle are apt to scar quickly and cannot be restored any longer.

I also brought Kaptah to Horemheb, and Horemheb was greatly rejoiced to see him, embracing him and calling him a brave man, and he assured him that all of Egypt was thankful to him for his great achievements — which he had done in secret and without waiting for praise for the sake of Egypt. But as Horemheb spoke, Kaptah’s face fell, and he began to weep and shed tears, saying, “Behold my belly, which has shrunk to a wrinkled bag from my exertions in your service and behold the wounded extension of my back and my torn ears that rats chewed in the dungeons of Gaza for your sake, Horemheb. All you talk to me about is the gratitude of Egypt, but gratitude won’t bring a single grain to my belly and gratitude won’t moisten my throat with wine,

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and I fail to see anywhere the gold bags which you promised me for my deeds — even if I firmly believed that you would put aside my share of the spoils which you have already got. No, Horemheb, I don’t ask for your gratitude, but I ask you as a man of honour to pay your debt to me since I have to sort out my debt to others, and I stand unexpectedly deep in debt for your sake, and more deeply in debt than you can imagine.”

But when Horemheb heard him speaking of gold, he frowned and started impatiently smiting his leg with his golden whip and said, “Your talk is like flies’ buzzing in my ears, Kaptah, and you speak like a mindless man, and even your mouth is filthy. You know very well that I have no loot to share with you and that I use all the gold I can lay my hands on for the war against the Hittites; and I myself am a poor man, and glory alone is my reward. Therefore I wish you pick a more suitable moment to talk about gold with me, but what I can do for you is that I can imprison your creditors and accuse them of various crimes and hang them on the wall, and so acquit you of your debts.”

Kaptah was not willing to pay off his debt in such an unfair way, but Horemheb laughed at him bitterly, smiting his legs with his golden whip, saying, “Every rich man is a criminal since a man can collect large amounts of gold only by means of indifference, extortion and by robbing the poor. Indeed, wherever there is lot of gold, I can always come up with a sufficient accusation, and no one can question my judgement — but even the accused himself knows his guilt in his heart. Therefore I would be keen to ask, Kaptah, how was it possible that this Roju, the Gaza commander, had you stretched in a rack as a Syrian spy and closed you in his dungeons, for mad though he may be, yet he is a fine warrior and must have had some reason for his action.”

Then Kaptah tore his fine garment in token of his innocence — and it was easy for him to tear it since it was my garment, and he lost nothing by tearing it. He cried in a high voice and beat his chest with his hands, saying, “Horemheb, Horemheb, was it you who just now spoke

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