The Egyptian (5 page)

Candidates for the lowest grade were divided into groups according to the profession they were to follow afterward. We, that is to say those who were to be disciples in the House of Life, formed a group on our own, but I found no close friend among my companions. I had taken Ptahor’s wise warning to heart and kept myself aloof, meekly obeying every order and feigning stupidity when the others jested or blasphemed as boys will. Among us were the sons of medical specialists whose advice and treatment were requited in gold. And there were with us also the sons of country doctors, often older than the rest of us, full-grown, gawky, sunburned fellows who strove to hide their shyness and addressed themselves laboriously to their tasks. There were lads from the lower classes who wanted to rise above their fathers’ trade and social level and had a natural thirst for knowledge, but they received the severest treatment of any, for the priests were by nature mistrustful of all who were not content with the old ways.

My caution stood me in good stead, for I soon noticed that the priests had their spies and agents among us. A careless word, a spoken doubt, or a joke among friends soon came to the knowledge of the priests, and the culprit was summoned for examination and punishment. Some were flogged, and some even expelled from the House of Life, which was thenceforth closed to them forever, both in Thebes and in the rest of Egypt.

My ability to read and write gave me a marked advantage over many of my fellows, including some of the older ones. I considered myself ripe to enter the House of Life, but my initiation was delayed. I lacked courage to ask the reason since that would have been regarded as insubordination to Ammon. I frittered away my time in copying out Texts of the Dead, which were sold in the forecourts, and grew rebellious and depressed, for already many of the less talented among my fellows had begun their studies in the House of Life. But under my father’s direction I was to gain a better grounding than they, and I have since reflected that Ammon’s priests were wise. They saw through me, noted my defiance and my unbelief, and therefore put me to this test.

At last I was told that my turn had come to hold vigil in the temple. I lived in the inner rooms for a week, during which time I was forbidden to leave the precincts. I had to fast and purify myself, and my father hastened to cut my hair and invite the neighbors to a feast in celebration of my maturity. For from this time, being now ripe for initiation—simple and meaningless though the ceremony in fact was—I would be regarded as fully grown, superior to my neighbors and to all other boys of my age.

Kipa had done her best, but to me her honey bread was tasteless, and the mirth and coarse jests of the neighbors were no diversion. In the evening after the guests had gone Senmut and Kipa caught my sadness, too. Senmut began to tell me the truth about my birth, Kipa prompting when his memory failed, while I gazed at the reed boat above my bed. Its blackened, broken struts made my heart ache. In all the world I had no real father and mother but was alone beneath the stars in a great city. I was, perhaps, but a miserable foreigner in the land of Kem or my origin a shameful secret… .

There was pain in my heart when I went to the temple wearing the initiation robe that Kipa, with such care and love, had made for me.

There were twenty-five of us young men and boys who were preparing to be received into the temple. When we had bathed in the temple pooi, our heads were shaved and we put on coarse clothes. The priest appointed as our director was not so pettily meticulous as some. Tradition entitled him to subject us to every kind of humiliating ceremony, but there were some among us of high rank and others who had already taken their law examination—full-grown men who were entering Ammon’s service to make their future more secure. These had brought plentiful provisions with them and made the priests presents of wine; some even ran off at night to the pleasure houses, for initiation held no meaning for them. I served with an aching heart and with many bitter thoughts in my mind, contenting myself with a piece of bread and a cup of water—the traditional diet for novices—and waiting in mingled hope and foreboding for what was to come.

For I was so young that I had an unspeakable longing to believe. It was said that Ammon himself appeared at the initiation and spoke individually to each candidate; it would have been ineffable comfort to find release from myself in the awareness of some ultimate and universal purpose. But before the physician even Pharaoh stands naked; already as a child I had seen sickness and death at my father’s side, and my eye had been trained to greater keenness than others of my age possessed. To a doctor nothing must be too sacred, and he bows to nothing but death; that my father taught me. Therefore, I doubted, and all that I had seen in the temple during those three years had only deepened my unbelief.

Yet I hoped that behind the veil in the dimness of the holy of holies I should find the Unknown, that Ammon would appear to me and bring peace to my heart.

I was musing upon this as I wandered along the colonnades to which laymen had access. I surveyed the colorful sacred pictures and the inscriptions that told of the stupendous gifts the Pharaohs had brought back to Ammon from the wars, as the god’s share of the spoils. And there I met a lovely woman whose robe was of linen so transparent that her breasts and loins might be seen through it. She was straight and slender, her lips, cheeks, and eyebrows were colored, and she looked at me in unabashed curiosity.

“What is your name, you handsome boy?” she asked, her eyes lingering upon the gray shoulder cloth that showed me to be a candidate for initiation.

“Sinuhe,” I answered in confusion, not daring to meet her gaze; but she was so beautiful that I hoped she would ask me to be her guide about the temple. Such requests were often made to the novices.

“Sinuhe,” she repeated thoughtfully, surveying me. “Then you must be easily frightened and flee when a secret is confided to you.”

This was an allusion to the Sinuhe of the story, and it annoyed me; there had been enough of that teasing at school. I drew myself up and looked her in the eye, and her glance was so strange and clear and searching that I felt my face beginning to burn and a flame seemed to be running over my body.

“Why should I fear?” I retorted. “A physician-to-be dreads no secrets.”

“Ah,” she smiled, “the chick has begun to cheep before it has cracked the shell. But tell me, have you among your comrades a young man named Metufer? He is the son of Pharaoh’s master builder.”

It was Metufer who had filled the priest with wine and given him a gold bracelet as initiation present. I felt a pang as I told her that I knew him and offered to fetch him. Then it struck me that she might be his sister or some other kinswoman; this cheered me and I smiled at her boldly.

“How am I to fetch him, though, when I do not know your name and cannot tell him who has sent me?”

“He knows,” returned the woman, tapping the pavement impatiently with her jeweled sandal. I looked at the little feet, unsoiled by dust, and at the beautiful toenails lacquered bright red. “He knows who it is. Perhaps he owes me something. Perhaps my husband is on a journey, and I am waiting for Metufer to come and console me in my grief.”

My heart sank once more at the thought that she was married, but I said briskly, “Very well, fair unknown! I will fetch him. I will say that a woman younger and fairer than the moon goddess calls for him. He will know then who it is, for whoever has seen you once can never forget you.”

Scared at my own presumption I turned to go, but she caught hold of me.

“Why such haste? Wait! You and I may have something more to say to one another.”

She surveyed me again until my heart melted in my breast and my stomach seemed to have slipped down to my knees. She stretched forth a hand heavy with rings and bracelets, touched my head and said kindly, “Is not that handsome head cold, being so newly shaven?” Then softly, “Were you speaking the truth? Do you think I am beautiful? Look more closely.”

I looked at her, and her robe was of royal linen, and in my eyes she was fair—fairer than all the women I had seen—and in truth she did nothing to hide her beauty. I looked at her and forgot the wound in my heart, forgot Ammon and the House of Life. Her nearness burned my body like fire.

“You do not answer,” she said sadly, “and need not. In those splendid eyes of yours I must appear a hag. Go then and fetch the young candidate Metufer, and be rid of me.”

I could neither leave her nor speak, though I knew she was teasing. It was dark between the huge temple pillars. Dim light from some distant stone tracery gleamed in her eyes, and there was no one to see us.

“Perhaps you need not fetch him.” She was smiling now. “Perhaps I should be content if you delight me and take your pleasure with me, for I know of no other to give me joy.”

Then I remembered what Kipa had told me of women who entice handsome boys; I remembered it so suddenly that I started back a pace.

“Did I not guess that Sinuhe would be afraid?”

She approached me again, but I raised my hand in dismay to hold her off, saying, “I know now what manner of woman you are. Your husband is away, and your heart is a snare, and your body burns worse than fire.”

But though I spoke this way, I could not flee from her.

She was taken aback but smiled again and came close against me.

“Do you believe that?” she said gently. “But it is not true! My body does not burn at all like fire; indeed, it is said to be desirable. Feel for yourself!”

She took my limp hand and carried it to her belly. I felt her beauty through the thin stuff so that I began to quake, and my cheeks burned.

“You still do not believe me,” she said with feigned disappointment. “My dress is in the way, but stay—I will draw it aside.” She pulled away her robe and held my hand to her bare breast. It was soft and cool beneath my hand.

“Come, Sinuhe,” she said very softly. “Come with me, and we will drink wine and take our pleasure together.”

“I may not leave the precincts of the temple,” I said in a fright and was ashamed of my cowardice and desired her and feared her as I would have feared death. “I must keep myself undefiled until I have received my consecration, or I shall be driven from the temple and never again be admitted to the House of Life. Have pity on me!”

I said this knowing that if she asked me once again I must follow her. But she was a woman of the world and knew my distress. She looked about her thoughtfully. We were still alone, but people were moving to and fro nearby, and a guide was loudly reciting the marvels of the temple to some visitors and begging copper from them before showing them new wonders.

“You are a very shy young man, Sinuhe!” she said. “The rich and great must offer gold before I call them to me. But you would remain undefiled.”

“You would like me to call Metufer,” I said desperately. I knew that Metufer would never hesitate to slip out of the temple when night fell, although it was his turn to watch. He could do such things, for his father was Pharaoh’s master builder—but I could have slain him for it.

“Perhaps I no longer wish you to call Metufer,” she said, looking mischievously into my eyes. “Perhaps I should like us to part friends, Sinuhe. Therefore I will tell you my name, which is Nefernefernefer, because I am thought beautiful and because no one who has pronounced my name can resist saying it once more, and again. It is a custom also for parting friends to give one another keepsakes. Therefore I want a gift from you.”

I was once more aware of my poverty, for I had nothing to give her: not the most trifling little ornament, not the smallest copper ring—nor if I had could I have offered such things to her. I was so bitterly ashamed that I bent my head, unable to speak.

“Then give me a present to revive my heart,” she said, and she raised my chin with her finger and brought her face quite close. When I understood what she wanted, I touched her soft lips with mine. She sighed a little.

“Thank you. That was a beautiful gift, Sinuhe. I shall not forget it. But you must be a stranger from a far country since you have not yet learned how to kiss. How else is it possible that the girls of Thebes have not taught you, though your hair is shorn for manhood?”

She drew from her thumb a ring of gold and silver in which was set a large stone without any inscription and put it on my hand.

“I give you a present also, Sinuhe, so that you may not forget me. When you have been initiated and have entered the House of Life, you can have your seal engraved upon this stone, like men of wealth and position. But remember that it is green because my name is Nefernefernefer, and because it has been said that my eyes are as green as Nile water in the heat of summer.”

“I cannot take your ring, Nefer,” and I repeated it “nefernefer” and the repetition gave me untold joy, “but I shall not forget you.”

“Silly boy! Keep the ring because I wish it. Keep it for a whim of mine, and for the interest it will pay me some day.”

She shook a slim finger before my face, and her eyes laughed as she said, “And remember to beware of women whose bodies burn worse than fire!”

She turned to go, forbidding me to follow her. Through the temple door I saw her step into a carved and ornamented chair that was awaiting her in the courtyard. A runner went before and shouted to clear a way, the people standing aside whispering and looking after her. When she had gone, I was seized with a deadly emptiness as if I had dived headfirst into a dark abyss.

Metufer noticed the ring on my finger some days later; he gripped my hand suspiciously and stared at it.

“By all the forty just baboons of Osiris! Nefernefernefer, eh? I would never have believed it.” He looked at me with something like respect although the priest had set me to scrub the floors and carry out the most menial tasks because I had not had the wit to give him a present.

Then I conceived such a hatred of Metufer and his words as only a youth can feel. However much I longed to ask him about Nefer I would not stoop to it. I hid my secret in my heart, for a lie is more lovely than the truth and a dream purer than earthly contact. I contemplated the green stone upon my finger, remembering her eyes and her cool bosom, and seemed still to sense her perfumed ointments on my fingers. I held her, and her soft lips still touched mine—in consolation, for by then Ammon had revealed himself to me and my faith was gone.