The Egyptian (39 page)

“You are quite right, Kaptah. The slave trade is something we will not embark upon, for it is a dirty and degrading business—though why this should be so I do not know since everyone buys slaves, uses slaves, and needs slaves. So it has ever been and ever will be, yet something tells me I could not be a slave trader, nor would I have you one.”

Kaptah sighed with relief and said, “I read your heart aright, lord, and so we escaped that evil—for, thinking the matter over, I suspect that I might have paid undue attention to the women when assessing their value and so squandered my forces. I can no longer afford to do this since I am growing old; my limbs are stiffening and my hands shake very grievously, especially in the mornings when I wake and before I have had time to grasp the beer jar. Having thus examined my heart, let me hasten to assure you that all the houses I have bought for you are respectable, yielding modest but certain profit. Not one pleasure house did I buy, nor slums whose moldering hovels bring in better returns than the snug houses of the well-to-do. But I have one favor to ask you.”

All at once Kaptah became diffident and regarded me searchingly with his one eye to assess the gentleness of my mood. I myself poured wine into his cup and encouraged him to speak out, for I had never seen Kaptah uncertain of himself and it aroused my curiosity.

At length he said, “My request is impudent and presumptuous, but since by your own pronouncement I am free, I make bold to utter it, in the hope that you will not be angry. I desire you to come with me to the wine shop in the harbor called the Crocodile’s Tail, of which I have often spoken to you, so that we may enjoy a measure of wine together and that you may see what manner of place it is that I dreamed of when I sucked muddy beer through a reed in Syria and Babylon.”

I burst out laughing and was not offended, for the wine had put me in a good humor. There was melancholy in the spring twilight, and I was very lonely. Unbecoming and singular though it might be for a master to go with his servant to a miserable harbor tavern and to taste a drink that because of its potency was called crocodile’s tail—yet I remembered that Kaptah had once of his own free will accompanied me through a certain dark doorway, well knowing that no one had ever come out of it alive. I laid my hand on his shoulder and said, “My heart tells me that a crocodile’s tail is the very thing to finish off the day. Let us go.”

Kaptah leaped for joy as slaves will, forgetting the stiffness of his bones. He ran and fetched my stick from its hiding place and wrapped my shoulder cloth about me. We then set off to the harbor and to the Crocodile’s Tail, while over the water the wind brought the scent of cedarwood and the green-growing earth.

The Crocodile’s Tail lay in the middle of the harbor quarter, crowded in among big warehouses in a dim alley. Its mudbrick walls were immensely thick so that in summer it was cool and in winter conserved its warmth. Above the door, besides a beer jar and a wine jar, there hung a huge dried crocodile with shiny glass eyes, its gaping jaws full of many rows of teeth. Kaptah drew me inside eagerly, called the landlord, and made his way to some cushioned seats. He was well known in the place and quite at home; the other customers, having glanced suspiciously at me, resumed their conversations. I saw to my astonishment that the floor was of wood and that the walls also were paneled. On these walls hung trophies from many long voyages: Negro spears and plumes, mussels from the islands in the sea, and painted Cretan bowls.

Kaptah followed my gaze with pride and said, “You will certainly be marveling that the walls are of wood as in rich men’s houses. Know that all the planks are from old ships which have been broken up, and although I do not willingly think of sea voyages, I must mention that this yellow, sea-worn plank has sailed to the land of Punt and this brown one has scraped along the quays of the islands in the sea. But if you approve, let us enjoy a ‘tail,’ which the landlord himself has mixed for us.”

A beautiful goblet was placed in my hand, molded in the form of a mussel shell, of the kind that must be held on the palm of the hand. I did not look at it, having eyes only for the woman who brought it to me. She was perhaps no longer as young as most serving girls, nor did she walk about half naked to catch the eye and the senses of the customers. She was decently dressed, with a silver ring in one ear and silver bangles about her slender wrists. She met my raze fearlessly and did not drop her eyes as is the way of most women. Her eyebrows were plucked fine, and in her eyes could be seen both a smile and a sorrow. They were warm, brown, living eyes, and it did one’s heart good to look into them. I took the cup she offered on the flat of my hand, and Kaptah did the same.

Still looking into her eyes I said in spite of myself, “What is your name, loveliness?”

Her voice was low as she answered, “My name is Merit, and it is not seemly to call me loveliness as shy boys do when they first seek to caress the loins of a serving girl. I hope that you will remember this if ever you honor our house again, Sinuhe the physician, You Who Are Alone.”

Mortified I answered, “I have not the least desire to caress your loins, fair Merit. But how did you know my name?”

She smiled, and the smile was beautiful on her brown face as she said mockingly, “Your fame has gone before you, Son of the Wild Ass, and seeing you I know that fame has not lied but spoken truly in every particular.”

In the depths of her eyes there lay, like a mirage, some remote grief; it sought my heart through her smile and I could not be angry with her.

“If by fame you mean Kaptah here—this former slave of mine whom today I have made a free man—you know very well that his word is not to be trusted. From birth his tongue has been incapable of distinguishing truth from falsehood but loves both equally well—unless indeed it has a bias toward falsehood. I have been unable to cure this either by doctoring or beating.”

She said, “Falsehood may be sweeter than truth when one is much alone and past the spring of life. I like to believe your words when you say ‘fair Merit,’ and I believe all that your face tells me. But will you not taste of the crocodile’s tail I have brought you? I am curious to know whether it may be compared with any of the drinks in the strange lands you have visited.”

Still with my eyes on her I raised the bowl and drank. Then I looked at her no longer. The blood rose to my head, I began to choke, and my throat seemed on fire.

When at last I found my breath again I gasped, “I will take back what I said of Kaptah, for in this matter at least he did not lie. Your drink is stronger than any I have tasted and more fiery than the earth oil the Babylonians burn in their lamps. I do not doubt that it would fell even a strong man like a blow from a crocodile’s tail.”

My body was afire, and in my mouth lingered the tang of spices. My heart took wings like a swallow and I said, “By Set and all the devils, I cannot think how this drink has been mixed, nor do I know whether it has bewitched me, Merit, or your eyes. Magic flows in my limbs and my heart is young once more—do not be surprised if I put my hand on your loins, for it is this bowl that will be to blame and not I.”

Demurely she drew back and raised her hands in mockery. She was slender and long-limbed and she smiled as she said, “It does not become you to swear. This is a decent tavern, and I am not yet so very old nor so very far from being a virgin—though you may not believe this. As to this drink, it is all the dowry my father has provided, for which reason this slave of yours has diligently courted me, hoping to obtain the secret with me, and for nothing. But he is one eyed and old and fat, and I do not fancy that a mature woman could take much pleasure in him. And so instead he has had to buy the tavern, and he hopes also to buy the formula, though truly much gold will have to be weighed out before we can agree on that.”

Kaptah was pulling desperate faces to silence her.

I tasted the drink again and as its fire coursed through my body I remarked, “In truth I believe that Kaptah would be willing to break a jar with you for the sake of this drink although he knows that after the wedding you would soon begin to throw hot water over his feet. Even without it I can well understand his feelings when I look into your eyes—though you must remember that just now the crocodile’s tail speaks in me, and tomorrow I may not answer for my words. Is it true, then, that Kaptah owns this wine shop?”

“Begone, you insolent baggage!” cried Kaptah, adding a string of gods’ names he had learned in Syria. Then turning to me, he went on in a pleading tone, “Lord, the matter came out too suddenly. I intended to prepare you for this gradually and beg your approval, being still your servant. But it is true that I have bought this house of the landlord, and I also intend to worm the secret of the drink from his daughter. It has made this place famous up and down the river wherever cheerful men assemble, and I have remembered it daily when I have been far away. As you know, I have robbed you all these years as well and cleverly as I am able, and I have been at some pains to invest my own silver and gold, for I must think of my old age.

“Even in my youth the innkeeper’s trade was to me the most enviable and alluring,” he went on, for the crocodile’s tail was making him sentimental. “In those days, it is true, I fancied he could drink as much beer as he liked for nothing. Now I know that he must be moderate in this and must never be drunk, and this will be very wholesome; too much beer sometimes affects me strangely so that I seem to see hippopotamuses and other hideous objects. An innkeeper is forever meeting people who may be useful to him and hears all that is going on, and this greatly tempts me since from my youth up I have ever been exceedingly inquisitive. My tongue will be of great service to me, and I believe that with my stories I shall so entertain my guests that they will unwittingly empty cup after cup and marvel when the hour of reckoning arrives. After ripe reflection, it seems as if the gods intended me for an innkeeper, though by some error I was born a slave. Yet even this is now an advantage, for truly there is no trick or lie by which a customer may seek to slip away without paying that I do not know or have not tried myself in my time.”

Kaptah emptied his bowl, rested his head on his hands smiling. “Furthermore,” he went on, “the business is the safest and soundest of all, for whatever may come to pass, thirst remains. Though Pharaoh’s power be shaken or the gods fall from their thrones, yet taverns and wine shops will never lose their patronage. Man drinks wine in his gladness and in his grief. When he prospers he drinks, and in wine he drowns his failures. The place is mine already, and for the present the landlord manages it with the help of this witch Merit, and we are to share the profits until I settle here to rest in my old age. We have made an agreement to this effect and have sworn to it by all the gods of Egypt. I do not fancy he will cheat me more than is reasonable, for he is a pious man and goes to the temple at all the festivals to make sacrifice—although I believe he does this partly because several of the priests come here. But I do not doubt his piety; it is no more than fitting, and a wise man will always combine his commercial and spiritual affairs, nor—nor—indeed I forget where I was and what I meant to say, for this is a day of great rejoicing for me, and I rejoice most of all that you have taken no offense but still regard me as your servant although I am the landlord of a tavern—a business not everyone considers respectable…

After this speech Kaptah began to drool and weep laying his head in my lap and throwing his arms about my knees in maudlin emotion.

Taking him by the shoulders I jerked him into his seat again and said, “Truly I do not think you could have found a more suitable occupation or better security for your old age, yet there is one point which I do not understand. If the landlord knows that his tavern is so profitable and he possesses the secret of the crocodile’s tail, why did he agree to sell it to you instead of keeping it for himself?”

Kaptah regarded me reproachfully with tears in his one eye, and said, “Have I not said a thousand times that you have a singular gift for poisoning all my joy with your common sense, which is more bitter than wormwood. Say, as he does, that we have been friends from our youth up and love each other as brothers, and we desire to share our happiness and good fortune! I see from your look that this does not suffice for you, and I confess that in this deal also a jackal lies concealed. Rumors are abroad that there will be widespread disturbances when Ammon and Pharaoh’s god strive with one another for power. As you know the taverns suffer first at such times; their shutters are smashed and their landlords whipped and cast into the river, jars are overturned and the furniture knocked to pieces, and in the worst cases, when the place has been drunk dry, it is set on fire. This is the more certain to happen if the owner is on the wrong side, and this man is a man of Ammon and everyone knows it. He can scarcely change his skin at this time of day. He has had doubts of Ammon since hearing that Ammon has begun to sell land, and I have of course done my best to fan these doubts. You forget, lord, that we have the scarab.

I am persuaded that it can spare a little protection for the Crocodile’s Tail although it is of course busy with your various interests.”

I pondered for some time, and said at length, “At any rate, Kaptah, I must acknowledge that you have achieved a great deal in one day.”

He waved aside my praise, saying, “You forget, lord, that we disembarked yesterday. But truly I have not let grass grow under my feet. Incredible as it may seem to you, even my tongue is weary, since one single crocodile’s tail can cause it to stumble.”

We then rose to depart, bidding the landlord farewell, and Merit came with us to the door, the silver bangles jingling on her wrists and ankles. In the darkness of the doorway I laid my hand on her loins and felt her nearness.

She removed my hand firmly and pushed it from her, saying, “Your touch might please me, but I will not consent to it while the crocodile’s tail speaks through your hands.”