The Egyptian by Mika Waltari

Posted by admin_akashic on Mar 4th, 2022 in Stories

She tilted her head sideways, watching me with her green eyes. Her face was pale and small when she said, “Your father’s property is your lawful inheritance, Sinuhe, as well you know, for your parents have no daughter who would be entitled to the inheritance together with the son, but you are their only child. You have also kept it hidden from me that he is blind and that he has entrusted you with his seal and the stewardship of his property so that you can dispose of it as if it was your own.”

This was true, for when my father Senmut’s sight had grown dim, he had given me his seal and asked me to look after his property as he could no longer see to sign his name. Kipa and he had often said that the house would fetch a good price and enable them to buy a little homestead outside the city and to live there until the time came for them to take possession of their tomb and start their journey to immortality.

I could not speak, so overwhelmed was I with horror at the thought of deceiving the father and mother who trusted me. But Nefernefernefer half closed her eyes and murmured, “Take my head between your hands and touch my breast with your lips for there is something about you that makes me weak, Sinuhe. I forget my own advantage where you are concerned, and all this day I will take my pleasure with you if you will make over your father’s property to me, however little it may be worth.”

I took her head between my hands, and it was smooth and small in my hands, and an unspeakable fever filled me. “Be it as you wish,” I said, and my voice grated on my own ears. But when I would have approached her, she said, “You shall enter into the realm that is already yours, but first seek out a legal scribe to prepare the appointed documents, for I do not trust men’s promises, such treachery as they are, and I must guard my reputation.”

I left her to send for a legal scribe, and each step away from Nefernefernefer was a torment to me. I urged the scribe to hasten, and I pressed my father’s seal on the paper and signed it with his name on his behalf, so that the scribe could send the documents to the royal archive the same day. But I had no more silver or copper to pay to the scribe for his work and he was unsatisfied about it, but he agreed to wait for his pay until the property was sold, and also this was written down in the papers.

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But when I returned, the servants told me that Nefernefernefer was sleeping, and I had to wait until late evening for her to wake up. At last, she received me, took the scribe’s receipt and slipped it carelessly into the black casket. “You are obstinate, Sinuhe,” she said, “but I am a woman of honour and always keep my promises. Take what you have come for.” She lay upon the bed and opened her embrace to me, but took no pleasure in me, but turned her head aside to look at herself in the mirror and hid her yawn behind her hand, so that the delight I sought was turned to ashes. When I arose from her, she said, “You have had what you wanted, Sinuhe, and now let me be, for you are very wearisome. You bring no pleasure to me, so clumsy and rough you are, and your hands hurt me. But I don’t want to count the pains you cause me, because you can’t do any better; if you just at last let me be. Another day you may return, but you have no doubt already got tired of me.”

I was like the shell of a blown egg as I staggered away from her and returned home. I desired to be at peace in a dark room and bury my head in my hands and give vent to the misery and disappointment of my heart in weeping. But on the veranda sat a stranger wearing a plaited wig and a Syrian robe of many colours. He greeted me haughtily and said he had come to consult me as a physician.

“I do not receive patients any more,” I said, “for the house is no longer mine.”

“I have evil swellings on my feet,” he said, and he mixed Syrian words with his speech. “Your wise slave Kaptah recommended your skill in treating such swellings. Relieve me from my torment and you shall not regret it.”

So stubborn was he that at length I led him into my room and called to Kaptah for hot water to wash my hands. But Kaptah was gone — and not until I examined the feet of the Syrian, did I recognise Kaptah’s own gnarled and swollen joints. Kaptah plucked off his wig and burst into roars of laughter.

“What mummery is this?” I said and thrashed him with a stick till his laughter turned to howls. But when I had thrown the stick aside, he said:

“Since I am no longer your slave but the slave of another, I may safely tell you that I think of making my escape and therefore wished to discover whether you would know me in this dress.”

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