The Egyptian (19 page)

The priest sang of darkness, of lions that slink from their lairs by night, and of serpents, and many of those who listened were afraid. He sang of the day’s brightness and declared that when the birds spread their wings in the morning it was in adoration of Aton. He declared also that this new god quickened the babe in the womb and gave fertility to the seed of man. Listening to him, one might fancy that there was not one tiny thing in the world with which Aton did not concern himself, nor could even a chick crack its shell and cheep without Aton’s help. The priest ended:

“Thou alone dwellest in my heart
And no man knoweth thee but the King thy son.
Thou sharest thy thought with him,
Thou anointest him with thy power.
The world lieth between thy hands as thou didst create it;
By thy light do men live
And if thou veil from them thy countenance they perish.
Thou art life and men live through thee.
All eyes are turned toward thy glory
Until the hour of thy setting,
All labor ceaseth
When thou declinest in the West.
Since thy creation of the world
Thou has prepared it for the coming of thy son:
For him who was born of thee,
The King who liveth by the truth,
Lord of both Kingdoms, the Son of Ra,
Who liveth by the truth.
For the Lord of the Crowns didst thou create the world
And for his great consort, his beloved,
Queen of the Two Kingdoms, Nefertiti,
Who shall live and bloom from everlasting to everlasting!”

The soldiers listened and wiggled their toes in the sand. When at last the song came to an end, they shouted in relief and to the honor of Pharaoh, for all that they grasped of the hymn was the intention to praise Pharaoh and hail him as the son of the god, which was right and fitting: so it had ever been and ever would be. Horemheb gave the priest leave to go, and the young man, delighted by the acclamation of the troops, went away to write an account of the event to Pharaoh.

The men marched away, followed by ox sleds and pack asses. Horemheb dashed ahead in his chariot, while the senior officers proceeded in their chairs, complaining of the heat. I was content to sit on the back of a donkey like my friend the quartermaster, and I took with me my medical chest of which I expected to make good use.

The column marched until evening with only a brief rest during which the men were allowed to eat and drink. An ever increasing number grew footsore and dropped out by the roadside, unable to rise despite the kicks and whippings of the sergeants. The men swore and sang by turns. With the lengthening of the shadows came the whine of arrows from the rocks bordering the road and now and then a cry from the ranks, where a man clutched his shoulder, in which an arrow was sticking, or fell headlong upon the road. Horemheb did not stay to pick off the snipers but pressed onward until the troops were moving at a jog trot. The light chariots cleared the way ahead, and soon we saw lying along the roadside the bodies of Khabiri in ragged cloaks, their mouths and eyes crawling with flies. Some of our men fell out to turn these bodies over in search of plunder, but there was nothing left to take.

The quartermaster sweated on his donkey and bade me take his last greeting to his wife and children, for he felt that this was to be his last day. He told me where in Thebes his wife was to be found and begged me to see to it that no one looted his corpse—provided we were not all dead by evening, he added, with a gloomy shake of the head.

At last there opened out before us the wide plain on which the Khabiri were encamped. Horemheb gave order for the sounding of horns and disposed his troops for attack, spearmen in the center and bowmen on either flank. The chariots, save for a few of the heavier ones, he dispatched to play a certain part elsewhere, and they raced off at such speed that the dust whirled up and hid them. From the valleys beyond the hills rose the smoke from burning villages. The Khabiri on the plain seemed numberless, and their howls and yells filled the air as they advanced upon us, shields and spear points glinting menace in the sunlight.

Horemheb shouted with a loud voice, “Stiffen your knees, you toads, for the fighters among them are few, and what you see are cattle and women and children—all to be yours before nightfall. In their cooking pots hot food awaits you. Away with you now, that we may eat, for already I am as famished as a crocodile!”

But the Khabiri host rolled nearer, far outnumbering ours. Their spears looked sharp in the sunlight, and battle held no charms for me. The ranks of our spearmen wavered, and they looked this way and that as I did. The sergeants slashed with their whips and swore—and doubtless the men were too weary to turn and fly, for they stiffened their ranks, and the bowmen twanged nervously at their bowstrings, awaiting the signal.

When the Khabiri 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. The sound of the arrows was bzzzt, bzzzt, like the buzzing of flies. I know of no more maddening noise than the singing of arrows past the 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, you scum!” His charioteers gave the horses their heads and away they went after him; the bowmen 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 Khabiri—for each man was shrieking for himself to drown his terror. I heard myself bellowing also at the full pitch of my lungs and found therein great relief.

The chariots thundered in among the attacking Khabiri, and away in the forefront, above the swirling dust and thrusting spears, glittered the plumed helmet of Horemheb. In the rear of the chariots charged the spearmen led by their battle standards—their lions’ tails and hawks—while the bowmen scattered about the plain discharging volleys into the harassed enemy. From this moment all was one hideous, clashing, thundering, shrieking, howling confusion. Arrows whistled past my ears; my donkey shied and bolted into the thick of the struggle, and I yelled and kicked in my extremity but could not hold him. The Khabiri 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 Khabiri uttered a shriek of rage and set off in full retreat, for they saw that those chariots which had been sent round the plain had entered their camp; their women were being attacked and the cattle driven off. This sight they could not endure but ran to the rescue, a move that was their undoing. The chariots rounded upon them and scattered them, and the remainder were dealt with by the 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 our men prolonged the massacre, plunging their spears into all they saw, slaying 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 subordinates came to their senses and rounded up the rabble with their whips. But my mad 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, bringing the beast to a halt so that I could climb down. Thenceforward I was known among them 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 Khabiri 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 tents and loads of forage the sacred chest was brought forth and placed before Horemheb. He opened it and lifted out Sekhmet, the Lionheaded, whose carven 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. Horemheb conferred chains and bracelets upon them and honored the most valiant with promotion. He was dusty and bloodstained, and his golden whip was dripping, but his eyes smiled upon his warriors as he hailed them as his own jolly ruffians and bruisers.

There was much work for me, as the spears and clubs of the Khabiri inflicted horrible wounds. I labored in the light of the burning tents, and the cries of the wounded mingled with those of the women as they were dragged away by the soldiers, who cast lots for them. I washed and stitched together gaping wounds, thrust entrails back into gashed bellies, and replaced torn flaps of scalp. To those whose death was certain I gave beer and narcotics that they might pass away in peace during the night.

I attended also some of the Khabiri whose injuries had prevented flight, stitching and dressing their wounds. For what reason I did this I hardly know unless it was that I though Horemheb would get a better price for them when he sold them as slaves if I healed them first. But many of them cared nothing for my help and rather tore open their wounds afresh when they heard the crying of their children and the lamentations of their ravished women. They curled up their legs, drew their garments over their heads, and bled to death.

I watched them and felt less proud of the victory than before. They were but poor starving desert folk, tempted by the cattle and grain of the valleys to make these desperate raids into Syria. They were gaunt and suffered often from eye diseases. Though they were valiant and terrifying in war and left behind them a trail of burning villages, yet I could not but feel compassion when I saw them draw their ragged garments over their heads to die.

On the following day I met Horemheb and begged him to set up a guarded camp where the soldiers who had been most gravely wounded could recover since if they were taken straight to Jerusalem they would be sure to perish on the way.

Horemheb thanked me for my help, and said, “I never credited you with such valor as you displayed yesterday, riding into the thick of battle on your mad donkey. You cannot have known that in war the physician’s task does not begin until the battle is over. I have heard the men call you the Son of the Wild Ass, and if you wish it, I will take you into battle in my own chariot. Good fortune must surely attend you since you are still alive, though you carried neither spear nor club.”

“Your men praise your name and swear to follow wherever you lead them,” I said, to flatter him. “But how is it that you are not even wounded after charging alone into the thick of the spears? Are you protected by some powerful magic, or how comes it that you feel no fear?”

“I know that I am destined to perform great deeds, though how I know this I cannot tell you. A warrior either has good fortune on his side or he has not, and I have had it since the falcon led me to Pharaoh. It is true that my falcon did not love the palace and flew away never to return. But as we were marching across the desert of Sinai, enduring great hunger and greater thirst—for I suffered with my men to learn what they were feeling and so have command over them—I saw in some valley a burning bush. It was of living fire shaped like some big bush or tree, and it was not consumed but burned night and day. The earth round about it had a smell that went to my head and inspired me with courage. I saw it as I was driving ahead of my troops to hunt the wild beasts of the desert, and it was seen by no other save my charioteer, who can bear witness to the apparition. But from that moment I have known that no spear or arrow or war club can touch me before my appointed time.”

I believed his account and was filled with awe, for he had no reason to invent such a tale for my amusement. Indeed, I hardly think he could have done so, being a man who believed only in what he could touch with his hands.

On the third day Horemheb divided his troops, sending some back to Jerusalem with the plunder—for not many traders came to the battlefield itself after our slaves, cooking pots, and grain—and another party he sent to herd the grazing cattle. I had set up a camp for the wounded, which was guarded by a special platoon, but the greater number of the sick men died. Horemheb himself set off with his chariots in pursuit of the Khabiri, for by questioning the prisoners he had learned that the fugitives had contrived to rescue and carry away their god.

He took me with him against my will, and I stood behind him in the chariot, clutching him round the waist and wishing I had never been born. He drove like a maniac, and I thought every instant we should overturn and I should be flung out headfirst among the stones. But he only scoffed and told me he would give me a taste of war since I had come to find out what it had to say to me.

He gave me a taste of it: I saw the chariots sweep like a storm over the Khabiri—the happily singing, palm-waving Khabiri—as they drove their stolen cattle to their hiding place in the wilderness. His horses trampled down women and children and the aged; he was wreathed in the smoke of burning tents; and in blood and tears the Khabiri learned that it was better to live in poverty in the desert and starve to death in their dens than to raid wealthy, fertile Syria, that they might smear their sun-dried skins with oil and stuff themselves with stolen grain. Thus I tasted war—which was war no longer but persecution and murder—till Horemheb himself had had enough and turning, ordered the setting up of the boundary stones that the Khabin had thrown down.

He had caught up with the Khabiri god, however, and swooped upon it like a hawk, scattering the bearers who dropped it and fled. The image was later chopped up into firewood and burned before Sekhmet. The warriors smote their chests saying, “See how we burn the god of the Khabiri!” The name of this god was Jehou or Jahveh; it was the only one the raiders possessed, and they had to return bereft to the wilderness. They were thus poorer, for all their erstwhile palm waving and songs of joy, than when they had set out.