The Egyptian by Mika Waltari

Posted by admin_akashic on Mar 4th, 2022 in Stories

When the Habirus had drawn near, they uttered their war cry, a howl so horrible that the blood left my head and my legs gave beneath me. At that instant, they charged, letting fly with their arrows as they ran, and in my ears the sound of the arrows went bzzzt, bzzzt, like the buzzing of flies. I had known of no more maddening noise in my life than the singing of arrows past a man’s ear. Yet I was heartened to see how little damage they did, for they either flew over our heads or were warded off by the shields. Now Horemheb shouted, “Follow me, my dung snouts!” His charioteers gave the horses their heads and away they went after him, the archers let fly their arrows as one man, while the spearmen charged after the chariots. A cry burst from all throats, a yell more terrifying than the howl of the Habirus, for each man was shrieking for himself to drown his terror, and I heard myself bellowing also at the full pitch of my lungs and found therein great relief.

The chariots thundered inward against the attacking horde of Habirus, and away in the forefront, above the swirling dust and thrusting spears, glittered the ostrich-feathered helmet of Horemheb. In the rear of the chariots, charged the spearmen led by their lion tail and hawk standards while the archers scattered about the plain discharging volleys into the chaotic cluster of Habirus. From this moment, all was one hideous clashing, thundering, shrieking, howling confusion. Arrows whistled past my ears, and my donkey shied and bolted into the thick of the struggle, so that I yelled and kicked in my extremity but could not hold him. The Habirus fought resolutely and without fear, and those of them who were trampled underfoot by the horses still lunged with their spears at those who charged over them, and many an Egyptian was slain as he stooped to lop off the hand of his victim in token of triumph. The reek of blood outdid the reek of sweating soldiers, and ravens circled down from the sky in ever growing flocks.

Suddenly, the Habirus uttered a frenetic shriek and set off in full retreat, for they saw that those chariots which had been sent round the plain had entered their camp, chasing their women and driving their plundered cattle off, and this sight they could not endure but ran to the rescue of their camp and women, a move that was their undoing. The

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chariots rounded upon them and scattered them, and the remainder were dealt with by Horemheb’s spearmen and archers. When the sun had set, the plain was full of handless corpses, the camp was in flames, and from every quarter came the bellowing of frantic cattle.

In the delirium of victory, the soldiers continued killing, plunging their spears into all they saw, slaying also men who had already laid down their arms, braining children with their clubs and madly shooting arrows into the stampeding livestock until Horemheb ordered the horns to be sounded, whereupon officers and sergeants came to their senses and rounded up the soldiers with their whips. But my livid donkey still galloped about the battlefield, bumping and jolting me upon his back like a sack of flour till I hardly knew whether I was alive or dead. The soldiers laughed at me and mocked me until at last one of them smote the donkey on the muzzle with the butt of his spear so that it was surprised; it came to halt and raised its ears, and I could climb down from its back. Thereon I was known amongst the soldiers as the Son of the Wild Ass.

The prisoners were driven together into enclosures, the weapons stacked, and herdsmen sent forth to round up the cattle. So numerous were the Habirus that many of them had made good their escape, but Horemheb surmised that they would run all night and be in no great haste to return. In the light of the blazing loads of forage and tents, the sacred chest was brought forth and placed before Horemheb. He opened it and lifted out Sekhmet, the Lion-headed, whose wooden breast swelled proudly in the firelight. The soldiers, in high jubilation, sprinkled her with drops of the blood that was flowing from their wounds and cast down before her the severed hands in token of conquest. These formed a great heap, and some men brought to it as many as four and five hands. Horemheb conferred chains and bracelets upon them and honoured the most valiant with promotion as sergeants. He was dusty and bloodstained, and his golden whip was dripping, but his eyes smiled upon his warriors as he hailed them as his beloved dung snouts and blood spillers.

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