Embarrassed, I rose to my knees and greeted him in the ordinary way. “If you are a robber,” I said, “you’ll get little from us, but I have here a sick boy, and the gods may bless you for your help.”
He screeched like a falcon, and the bird fell from the air like a rock to alight upon his shoulder. I thought it was better still to be careful, if he ended up being a god after all, though one of the lesser ones. I spoke to him respectfully and asked politely who and where he was from and where was he going to.
“I am Horemheb, son of the falcon,” he said proudly. “My parents are but cheese makers, but it was foretold at my birth that I should win command over many. The falcon flew before me, and I followed, having found no shelter for the night in the city. Thebes is shy of spears after dark. But I mean to enter Pharaoh’s service as a warrior. They say he is sick, therefore he may need strong arms to protect his sovereignty.”
His body was valiant like that of a young lion and his gaze flickered like a flying arrow. Enviously, I thought how many a women would say to him, Pretty boy, would you like to console me in my loneliness?
The prince moaned, passed his hands gropingly over his face, and contorted his limbs. I removed the rag from his mouth, wishing I had water with which to revive him. Horemheb surveyed him curiously and asked coolly:
“Is he dying?”
“He is not dying,” I replied impatiently. “He has the holy sickness.”
Horemheb gripped his spear as he looked at me. “You need not despise me though I come barefoot and am poor. I can write passably and read what is written, and I shall have command over many. Which god has taken possession of him?”
The people believe that a god speaks through those suffering from the holy sickness, hence his question.
“He has his own special god,” I answered. “I think he is a little mad in the head. When he recovers, can you help me to carry him back to the town, so that we can find a chair and see him back home.”
81
“He is cold,” said Horemheb and drew off his cloak and spread it over the prince. “Morning in Thebes is chilly, but my own blood suffices to keep me warm. I know many gods, and I could tell you of many who favour me. But my special god is Horus. This is surely a rich man’s son, for his skin is white and delicate, and he has never worked with his hands. And who are you?”
He talked a lot and vividly for he was a poor boy who had travelled a long way to reach Thebes and experienced unfriendliness and humiliation during his trip. “I am a physician,” I replied to him. “I am also initiated as a priest of the first grade in the Temple of Amun.”
“You must have brought him to the desert to cure him,” wondered Horemheb. “But you should have put more clothes on him. Not that I want to judge the skills of physicians,” he continued politely.
Cold, red sand glowed in the light of the rising sun, his spearhead glittered red, and his hawk screeched circling around his head. The heir to the throne sat up, his teeth chattered, he moaned weakly and looked dazedly about him.
“I have seen,” he said. “An instant was like a century, I had no age, and he stretched forth a thousand blessing hands over my head, and every hand gave me the sign of eternal life. Must I not then believe?”
“I hope you did not bite your tongue,” I said anxiously. “I tried to protect you, but I did not have a wooden peg to wedge between your teeth.” My words were only flies buzzing in his ears. He looked at Horemheb, and his eyes cleared and brightened, and he was beautiful smiling in his wonderment.
“Is it you whom Aten, the only one, has sent?” he asked, wondering.
“The falcon flew before me, and I followed my falcon,” Horemheb said. “That is why I am here. I know no more than that.” The prince looked with a frown at his spear.
“You carry a spear,” he said in rebuke.
Horemheb held the spear forth. “The shaft is of choice wood,” he said. “Its copper head longs to drink the blood of Pharaoh’s enemies.
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