But in his vanity, Horemheb resented these words, nor did it please him to be touched by the prince. So he frowned and said, “You are drunk, Zannanza, and as for Aziru, I have no other purpose than to show the whole world the fate that awaits any man who trusts the Hittites. But since in the course of this night, we have become friends and have drunk many fraternal cups together, I will spare this ally Aziru of yours and for our friendship’s sake will give him an easy death.”
Zannanza flew into a rage from his words so that his face was distorted and paled, for the Hittites are tender of their honour — although as everyone knows, they betray and sell their allies without thinking of their honour if these allies bring no profit to them any more and if they think that betraying them would be more profitable. Indeed, all nations and all able rulers behave in the same way, but the Hittites are more barefaced in their behaviour than other nations without making any effort to find pretexts or excuses to beautify the matter or make it just. Zannanza became angry, but his companions laid their hands over his mouth, dragging him away from Horemheb and holding him fast until his impotent fury caused him to spew up the wine he had drunk and until he grew quieter.
But Horemheb let Aziru come out from his prison tent and was greatly astonished to see him step out into the sight of people with his head held high and proud as a King, wearing a royal mantle over his shoulders. For Aziru had eaten fat meat and drunk strong wine and tossed his head haughtily and laughed aloud as he walked to the place of execution and shouted insults at Horemheb’s officers and guards. His hair was combed and curled, and his face gleamed with oil, and he called to Horemheb over the heads of the soldiers, “Oh Horemheb, you filthy Egyptian. Fear me no longer, for I am in chains and you need not hide behind the spears of your soldiers. Come hither that I may wipe the dung from my feet on your cloak, for truly dirtier a camp I never saw in all my life, and I wish to enter the presence of my Baal with clean feet.”
Horemheb was delighted at his words and laughed aloud, shouting to Aziru, “I cannot approach you, because the Syrian stench of you turns my stomach, notwithstanding the mantle you have somehow stolen to hide your filthy carcass. Yet without a doubt you are a valiant man, Aziru, to laugh at death. Therefore I give you an easy death, for the sake of my own honour.”
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He sent his bodyguard to escort Aziru and to prevent the soldiers from casting mud on him, and the dung snouts surrounded Aziru and smote with their spear shafts at anyone who offered him abuse — for they no longer felt any hatred for Aziru because of the great sufferings he had brought on them but admired his courage. They also escorted Queen Keftiu and both Aziru’s boys to the place of execution, and Keftiu had adorned herself like women do and painted her face with red and white; and the boys stalked to the fateful spot with the bearing of King’s sons, the elder leading the younger by the hand. When Aziru saw them, he weakened, saying:
“Keftiu, Keftiu, my white mare, the apple of my eye and my love. I am grieved indeed that for my sake you must follow me into death, for life would still have been very sweet to you.” But Keftiu answered, “Be not distressed for me, my King, for I follow you willingly. You are my husband and strong like a bull, and I doubt there is any man who could content me the same way after you are dead. During the days of your life, I have also separated you from all other women and bound you to me. Therefore I will not permit you to go alone into the underworld but follow you to keep an eye on you and prevent you from rejoicing with other women, since all fair women who have died before me are assuredly awaiting you in the underworld. Certainty is best, and I would follow you there though my life were spared. Indeed, I would strangle myself in my own hair to follow you, my King, for I was but a slave and you made me queen, and I bore you two valiant boys.”
Aziru was elated at her words and became arrogant from joy and said to his sons, “My handsome boys! You were born into the world as the sons of the King. Die then like the sons of the King that I need not blush for your sake. Believe me, death is no more painful than a drawn tooth. Therefore be valiant, my handsome boys.” With this, he knelt upon the ground before the executioner and turned to Keftiu and said, “I am weary of seeing these stinking Egyptians all about me, and I am weary of seeing their bloodstained spears. Bare your blossoming breasts to me, Keftiu, that I may behold your beauty as I go, and I shall die as happily as I have lived with you.”
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