The Egyptian by Mika Waltari

Posted by admin_akashic on Mar 4th, 2022 in Stories

In the meantime, the body of Tutankhamun had been prepared to withstand death forever, and Ay had the priests carry him swiftly to his eternal resting place, which had been hewn in the rock of the western mountains amongst the tombs of the Valley of the Kings. He had with him many presents, but his riches were minor for Ay had stolen a lot from him; and his tomb was next to nothing in comparison with the tombs of the great Kings, so that he was buried in the same meaningless manner as he had lived amongst his toys in the golden house. As soon as he had the entrance to the tomb sealed, Ay pronounced the period of mourning at an end, letting the joyful pennants be hoisted in the poles along the Avenue of Rams, and Horemheb sent his chariots to occupy all squares and crossroads of Thebes. But none rebelled when Ay was crowned Pharaoh, for the people were weary and tired, as an animal that is goaded with spears along an endless path — so no one questioned his right to the crown, and no one expected anything good from him.

Thus Ay was crowned Pharaoh, and the priests, whom he had bribed with immeasurable gifts, anointed him with holy oil in the great Temple and put the white lotus crown of the Upper Kingdom and the red papyrus crown of the Lower Kingdom upon his head. They carried him in the golden boat of Amun before the people, and the people shouted his praise for he distributed bread and beer amongst them — and so poor had Egypt become that bread and beer were great gifts for the people of Thebes. But I knew, as did many others as well, that his power was only a fantasy and henceforth the true ruler of Egypt was Horemheb, who had the spears backing him. So many wondered in secret why he did not himself take the power into his own hands, instead of allowing the aged and detested Ay to ascend the throne of Pharaohs.

But Horemheb knew well what he was doing, for the people’s cup of hate was not yet drained empty, nor had the suffering ended in the land of Egypt — for alarming news from the land of Kush summoned him to a new war against the black men. Having secured Egypt’s power in the south and once more strengthened the border stones beyond the cataracts, he knew that he still had to renew the conflict against the Hittites for the conquest of Syria. For this reason, he wanted the people to blame Ay for all the suffering and misery so that they might later praise the name of Horemheb as victor, restorer of peace and fair ruler.

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Ay never considered this, being blinded by power and the glitter of the crowns, and he willingly fulfilled his part of the deal that he had struck with Horemheb on that day of Akhenaten’s death. So the priests brought princess Beketamun in a ceremonial procession to the temple of Sekhmet, where they arrayed her in the crimson robe of the goddess, decorating her with the jewels of the goddess and raising her onto Sekhmet’s altar. Horemheb and his troops arrived at the temple, in celebration of his victory over the Hittites and the liberation of Syria. All Thebes shouted his praise, and he distributed golden chains and tokens of honour amongst his men at the temple and released them to the city. Then he stepped inside the temple, and the priests closed its copper doors behind him. Sekhmet appeared to him in the shape of princess Beketamun, and he took what was his, for he was a warrior and had waited long.

That night, all of Thebes celebrated the festival of Sekhmet, and the sky glowed red with the light of torches and lamps. Horemheb’s dung snouts drank all the wine taverns and alehouses dry and smashed down the doors of the pleasure houses, making girls cry on the streets of Thebes. Many were wounded that night, and the soldiers lit a few houses, but no great harm was done, and at dawn, the soldiers once more assembled before the temple of Sekhmet to see Horemheb come forth. They cried aloud and swore in many tongues from surprise when they saw the copper gates open and Horemheb stepped out of the temple — for Sekhmet had been true to her female lioness head, and Horemheb’s face and arms and shoulders were scratched and bleeding as if a lion had torn at him with its claws. This diverted his men greatly, and they loved him ever more for it. But princess Beketamun was borne away by the priests in a closed chair down to the shore, and she returned to the golden house without showing herself to the people.

After she was gone, the soldiers pushed themselves into the temple and collected the shreds of her crimson dress from the floor and shared them amongst themselves as souvenirs and used the shreds of cloth as talismans to attract unwilling women. Such was the bridal night of my friend Horemheb, and I know not what pleasure he had of it, for shortly afterward he mustered his troops and went to mobilise his army at the first cataract in the south, in order to march on the land of Kush. And the priests of Sekhmet did not lack from sacrifice while he waged war, for they got fat and swelled from the amount of meat and wine in their temple.

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