The Egyptian by Mika Waltari

Posted by admin_akashic on Mar 4th, 2022 in Stories

“If you want to do all this for me, Sinuhe, you indeed are my friend, and I do not understand why you would do it, since I have caused much ill also to you like to every Egyptian. You have also spoken to me about death beautifully, and perhaps things are as you say, and death is but a long dream and cool water. But nevertheless, my heart hurts when I think of a blossoming apple tree in the land of Amurru and when I hear the baaing of the sheep in my ears and see kids jumping on the mountain slopes. My heart hurts especially when I think about the springtime in the land of Amurru, the blooming of the lilies and the scent of the lilies and balms, for lily is the royal flower that matches with my body. Thinking about all this hurts my heart when I know that I will never see the land of Amurru again, not in spring nor in autumn, not in the summer heat nor in the winter wind. But the hurt in my heart is sweet when I think about the land of Amurru.”

Thus we talked throughout the night in Aziru’s prison tent and recalled our meetings during the time when I dwelt in Zemar and we were both in the prime of our youth and strength. Aziru also told me about various incidents in his childhood — but telling about his childhood would take too long since every man’s childhood is alike, and the memories of a man’s childhood are valuable only to the man himself. At dawn, my slaves brought us food that they had prepared, and the guards did not forbid them, for they also had their share of the food, and my slaves brought us hot fat mutton and groats cooked in fat, and into our cups they poured strong wine from Sidon, spiced with myrrh. I also bade my slaves wash Aziru clean of all the filth that people had cast on him and comb and dress his hair and cover his beard in a net fashioned of gold thread. I hid his tattered garments and his chains beneath a royal mantle, for his chains could not be removed, being of copper and welded on him by the Hittites, so I could not have him arrayed in fresh clothes. My slaves did the same service for Keftiu and her two sons, but Horemheb would not allow Aziru to see his wife and children before they met at the place of execution.

When the hour came and Horemheb stepped out from his tent in the company of the drunken Hittite princes, leaning on their shoulders and laughing aloud, I went up to Horemheb and said, “Truly, Horemheb, I have done you many services, and it may be that I saved your life when in Tyre I drew the poisoned arrow from your thigh and dressed the wound. Now you do me this service and let Aziru die without shame, for he is the King of Syria, after all, and he fought bravely. Your own honour will be enhanced if you let him die without shame, and your Hittite friends have tortured him enough and crushed his limbs in forcing him to disclose where his wealth was hidden.”

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Horemheb looked very black at my words, for he had thought of many ingenious ways to prolong Aziru’s death, and all was prepared for it — and already at dawn the army had gathered at the foot of the hillock on which the executions were to take place, fighting amongst themselves for the best places and hoping for an entertaining day. But Horemheb had arranged this not because he took delight in prolonging death but in order to amuse his men and spread terror throughout Syria so that after Aziru’s terrible death no one would dare to even dream of revolt. I must say this to Horemheb’s honour, for he was not by nature cruel, as he was reputed to be, but he was a warrior, and death to him was no more than a weapon in his hand. He was nevertheless happy to allow rumours to exaggerate his brutality that it might strike terror into the hearts of his enemies and gain him the veneration of the people. He believed that men had more respect for a cruel ruler than for a gentle one and that they regarded gentleness as weakness.

Therefore Horemheb scowled when I spoke to him and took his arm from about the neck of Prince Zannanza — and he stood before me swaying and started to smite his leg with his golden whip. He said, “You, Sinuhe, are a perpetual thorn in my side, and I am becoming very weary of you, since unlike any men of sense, you are bitter and revile all who prosper and raise themselves to honour and affluence, but yet you are the first to tender and comfort those who fall and are defeated. You well know with what toil and cost I have brought the most skilful executioners here from every corner of the land for Aziru — even to set up their many tearing and boiling devices on the hill in the sight of the army has cost a great quantity of silver. I cannot at the last moment deprive my mud rats of their pleasure, for all have suffered hardships and bled from many wounds on this man Aziru’s account.”

Zannanza, the Hittite prince, slapped him on the back and laughed and said, “You say rightly, Horemheb. You will not now deprive us of our pleasure, since to save him for your enjoyment, we tore no flesh from his bones but only very carefully pinched him with pincers and wooden screws.”

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