The Egyptian (78 page)

In that hour I hated Horemheb, but I hated myself more. Once again my hands had sown death, and my friends had suffered through me. I said nothing but stretched forth my hands at knee level and left him, and the guards took me away. Twice he opened his mouth to speak to me before I went, and he took a step forward. Then he stopped and said, “Pharaoh has spoken.”

The guards shut me into a chair and carried me away from Thebes, past the three hills and eastward into the desert along a stone-paved road that had been built at Horemheb’s command. We journeyed for twenty days until we came to the harbor where ships took aboard cargoes for the land of Punt. There were people living here, and so the guards carried me a three days’ journey from there, along the coast to a deserted village where fishermen had once dwelt. Here they measured out an area for my walking and built me a house in which I have lived all these years. I have lacked nothing. I have lived the life of a rich man. Here are writing materials and paper of the finest, caskets of black wood in which I keep the books I have written, and all the requirements of a physician. But the book I now write is the last, and I have no more to say for I am old and tired, and my eyes are so dim that I can scarcely distinguish the characters on the papyrus.

I do not think I could have survived had I not recorded—and thus relived—my life. I have written to make clear to myself the reason for my existence; yet now that I bring my last book to an end I am more ignorant of it than when I began to write. Nevertheless, writing during these years has greatly comforted me. Every day the sea has been before my eyes. I have seen it red; I have seen it black. I have seen it green in the daytime and in the darkness white. On days of searing heat I have seen it bluer than blue stones. It is enough, for the sea is vast and terrible for a man to have before his eyes forever.

I have also beheld the red hills about me. I have examined sand fleas; scorpions and serpents have been my confidants, and they no longer shun me but listen when I speak. Yet I believe they are bad friends to man, and I have had as great a surfeit of them as of the endless, rolling billows of the sea.

I should mention that in the course of my first year in this village of whitened bones and tumbledown huts, when ships were sailing once more to Punt, Muti came to me from Thebes with one of Pharaoh’s caravans. She greeted me and wept bitterly at the sight of my wretchedness, for my cheeks had fallen in, my belly had shrunk, and my mind was steeped in indifference.

She soon recovered and began to scold me, saying, “Have I not warned you a thousand times, Sinuhe, not to run your head into snares in your foolish man’s way? Men are deafer than stones—they are little brats of boys who must always be cracking their heads against the wall. Truly you have run your head against the wall often enough, my lord Sinuhe, and it is time you settled down and led the life of a wise man.”

But I rebuked her, saying that she ought never to have left Thebes, for she had now no hope of return. By her coming she had bound her life to the life of a banished man.

In reply she railed at great length. “On tho contrary: What has happened to you is the best thing that has ever happened, and I believe that Horemheb has shown himself your true friend in bringing you to so peaceful a place in your old age. I too have had enough of the bustle of Thebes, and of those whining neighbors, who borrow cooking pots without returning them and empty their garbage into my court. When I come to think of it, the copperfounder’s house was never the same after the fire. The roasting pit burned the meat, and the oil turned rancid in the jars. There were drafts along the floors and the shutters rattled unceasingly. Now we may make a fresh start and build everything to our liking. I have already chosen an excellent place for the garden. I shall cultivate herbs and watercress, which you greatly enjoy, my lord. I shall give work enough to these lazy drones whom Pharaoh has set to protect you from robbers and evildoers. They shall hunt fresh game for you every day—they shall catch fish and gather mussels and crabs on the shore, although I suspect that sea fish are not so good as those we had from the river. Moreover, I think of selecting a suitable burial place, if you will permit me, my lord. Having come so far, I never mean to leave here again. I have had enough of wandering from place to place in search of you, and journeys frighten me since never until now have I set foot outside Thebes.”

Thus did Muti comfort me and cheer me with her grumbling. I believe that it was thanks to her that I stretched forth my hand to life again and began to write. She goaded me to it although she could not read and secretly regarded my writing as nonsense. Yet she was glad for me to have some occupation, and she saw to it that I rested between times and enjoyed all the good dishes she prepared for me. She fulfilled her promise and set Pharaoh’s guards to work, making their lives a burden to them so that they cursed her with great feeling behind her back and called her a witch and a crocodile. But they dared not oppose her, for then she reviled them volubly, and her tongue was sharper than an ox goad.

I fancy that Muti’s influence was most wholesome. She kept the men in continual activity so that their time passed quickly. She rewarded them by baking good bread for them and brewing strong beer in great jars. They had fresh greenstuff from her herb garden, and she taught them how to vary their diet. Every year when the ships sailed to Punt, Kaptah sent us many donkey loads of goods from Thebes. He commissioned his scribes to write to us of all that went on in the city so that I did not live altogether in a sack. All this was of benefit to my guards. They learned new skill from Muti and grew rich from the presents I made them so that they did not long too sorely for Thebes.

Now I am weary with writing, and my eyes ache. Muti’s cats jump on my knee and rub their heads against my hand. My heart is weary of all I have written, and my limbs long for their eternal rest. Though I may not be happy, yet am I not unhappy in my loneliness.

I bless my paper and my pen, for thanks to them I could become a little boy again in the house of my father Senmut. I have walked the roads of Babylon with Minea, and Merit’s lovely arms have been about my neck. I have wept with those who mourned and shared out my grain among the poor. But I will not remember my evil deeds or the bitterness of my loss.

All this have I, Sinuhe the Egyptian, written, and for my own sake. Neither for gods nor for men, nor to immortalize my name, but only to bring peace to my own poor heart, whose measure is now full. I know that the guards will destroy all that I have written as soon as I am dead, and by the command of Horemheb they will pull down the walls of my house. Yet I do not know whether I greatly care.

Nevertheless, I am carefully preserving these books I have written, and Muti has plaited a strong cover of palm fiber for each of them. I keep these covered books in a silver box, and the silver box lies within a casket of hard wood, and that again within a copper one, just as the divine books of Thoth were once enclosed, to be sunk to the bed of the river. Whether my books will thus escape the guards, and whether Muti will hide them in my grave, I do not know, nor am I much concerned.

For I, Sinuhe, am a human being. I have lived in everyone who existed before me and shall live in all who come after me. I shall live in human tears and laughter, in human sorrow and fear, in human goodness and wickedness, in justice and injustice, in weakness and strength. As a human being I shall live eternally in mankind. I desire no offerings at my tomb and no immortality for my name.

This was written by Sinuhe, the Egyptian, who lived alone all the days of his life.