She walked with dragging feet beside my chair and kept up a constant muttering: “I hoped that you had settled down and learned to behave decently during your long sojourn among royalty, but it is plain that you have done nothing of the kind and are as unruly as before. Yet I seemed to read peace and composure in your face yesterday. I was also glad to note that your cheeks were somewhat plumper, for when a man grows fat he grows tranquil. It will certainly not be my fault if you lose weight here in Thebes, but the fault of your own graceless courses. All men are alike and all evil in the world springs from the little tool they hide beneath their loincloths because they are ashamed of it-as well they may be.”
So incessant was her nagging that I was reminded of my mother Kipa. I should certainly have been moved to tears had I not quickly snapped at her, “Shut your mouth, woman, for your chatter disturbs my thoughts and is like the buzz of flies in my ear.”
She fell silent at once, delighted at having teased me into shouting at her and so making her feel that the master had indeed come home.
She had prepared the house very handsomely for my reception. Bunches of flowers were tied to the pillars of the entrance, the garden was swept, and the carcass of a cat that had lain before my door now lay before that of the neighbor. She had hired children to stand in the street and shout “Blessed the day that brings our lord home!” She had done this because she was indignant that I had no children of my own; she would have liked me to have some if they could have been obtained without a wife. I gave the children copper, and Muti distributed honey cakes among them, and they went away rejoicing.
Then Merit came, very beautifully arrayed and with flowers in her hair, and her hair gleamed with perfumed oil so that Muti sniffed and wiped her nose as she poured water over our hands. The food she had prepared for us was sweet to my palate, for it was Theban food. In Akhetaton I had forgotten that nowhere in the world is there to be found such food as in Thebes.
I thanked Muti and praised her skill, which delighted her although she tried to scowl and snort, and Merit complimented her also.
Whether this meal in the copperfounder’s house was in any way memorable or noteworthy I do not know. I mention it for my own sake because it was then I felt happy, and I said, “Stay your course, water clock, for this hour is a good hour. Let it never pass.”
While we were eating, people had gathered in my courtyard: people from the poor quarter, who had arrayed themselves in their best clothes and come to greet me and to bewail their aches and pains.
They said, “We have sorely missed you, Sinuhe. While you dwelled among us we did not value you at your true worth. Only when you had gone did we perceive how much good you did us, and how much we lost in losing you.”
They brought me presents, very modest ones, for these people were poorer than ever because of Pharaoh Akhnaton’s god. Among them was the old scribe who held his head askew because of the growth in his neck; I was astonished to find him still alive. There also was the slave whose fingers I had healed; he held them up proudly and moved them before my eyes. A mother showed me her son who had grown up handsome and sturdy; he had a black eye, and there were scars on his legs, and he told me he could thrash any boy of his size in the neighborhood.
And there was the girl whose eyes I had healed and who ill repaid me by sending to me all the other girls from the pleasure house, that I might remove disfiguring birthmarks and warts from their skin. She had prospered, having earned enough to buy a public bath near the market, where she also sold perfumes and supplied the merchants with the addresses of young and free-hearted girls.
All brought gifts, saying, “Do not scorn our presents, Sinuhe, royal physician though you be and a dweller in Pharaoh’s golden house, for our hearts rejoice to see you, so long as you do not speak to us of Aton.”
I did not so speak but received them one by one, according to their ailments. I listened to their woes, prescribed for them, and gave them treatment. Merit put off her beautiful dress in order to help me. She bathed their sores, purified my knife in fire, and mixed narcotic drinks for those who were to have a tooth extracted. Whenever I looked at her I was glad-and I looked at her often as we worked, for she was fair and shapely. Her bearing was graceful and she was not ashamed to put aside her dress to work, as poor women do, nor did any of my patients wonder at it, being too much concerned with their own troubles.
The day wore on while I received patients and talked to them as in former times, rejoicing in my knowledge when I could effect their cure. Often I drew full breath and said, “Stay your course, water clock; water, cease your flow, for not many of my hours will be so fair.” I forgot the visit that I must pay to the Queen Mother, who had been informed of my arrival. I think I forgot because I had no wish to remember, being happy.
By the time the shadows lengthened, the last of my patients had left the court. Merit poured water over my hands and helped me to cleanse myself. With gladness I did the same for her, and we dressed.
When I would have stroked her cheek and brushed her mouth with mine, she pushed me away, saying, “Make haste to visit your witch, Sinuhe, and lose no time, that you may return before nightfall. My sleeping mat awaits you with impatience. Yes, I feel that the mat in my room awaits you very eagerly-though why this should be I do not know. Your limbs are soft, Sinuhe, and your flesh flabby, nor are your caresses in any way remarkable. Nevertheless, to me you are different from all other men, and I can well understand the feelings of my mat.”
She hung the symbols of my dignity about my neck and set the doctor’s wig on my head, stroking my cheeks as she did so so that despite my dread of the Queen Mother’s anger I had no wish to leave Merit and go to the golden house. But I urged my bearers and my oarsmen until we came alongside the palace walls. My boat touched at the landing stage just as the sun was setting behind the western hills, and the first stars appeared.
Before I speak of my conversation with the Queen Mother I must mention that only twice during these years had she visited her son in the city of Akhetaton. Each time she upbraided him for his madness, thereby troubling him sorely, for he loved his mother and was blind to her character-blind as sons often are until they marry and their eyes are opened by their wives. But Nefertiti had not opened Pharaoh Akhnaton’s eyes, for the sake of her father. Queen Taia and Eie lived freely together at this time and no longer attempted to conceal their lust, and I do not know whether the royal house had ever before witnessed such open shame. Yet I cast no slur on Pharaoh Akhnaton’s origins, for I believe them to have been divine. If he had had none of the late Pharaoh’s blood in his veins, he would have had no royal blood at all. Then he would have been a false Pharaoh as the priests averred, and everything that happened would have been yet more iniquitous and meaningless and mad. I prefer to believe what my heart and my reason tell me.
The Queen Mother received me in a private room where many little birds with clipped wings hopped and twittered in their cages. She had never forgotten the trade of her youth but still loved to catch birds in the palace garden, by liming the branches of trees and by means of nets. When I entered, she was braiding a mat of colored rushes. She addressed me sharply and rebuked me for my delay.
Then she asked, “Is my son at all recovered from his madness, or is it time to open his skull? He makes far too much ado about this Aton of his and stirs up the people, which is no longer needful, since the false god is overthrown and there is no one to compete with Pharaoh for power.”
I told her of his condition, of the little princesses and their games, of their gazelles and dogs, and of how they went rowing on the sacred lake of Akhetaton. She was mollified and, bidding me sit at her feet, offered me beer. She did this not from miserliness but because she preferred beer to wine.