Ancient Evenings (61 page)

“Why, this Khetasar even said: ‘If a man flee from the country of Egypt to the Hittites, then shall the great Prince of the Hittites take him into custody and cause him to be brought back to Ramses the Second, the great Monarch of Egypt. But when he is brought back, let not his crime be brought against him, nor shall his house be burned, nor his wives and children killed, nor his mother slain, and he shall not be beaten in his eyes, or in his mouth, or on his feet.’ And it would be the same for any Hittites,” said Menenhetet, “who fled from their country to ours. I was much impressed with the good sense of this. It takes no great effort to make people go back to the land from which they have fled, if they are not afraid of terrible punishment. I was even more impressed when our Ramses allowed the name of the Prince of the Hittites to come before His own. That had to be due to His respect for all these fine words written on silver. Besides, the treaty concluded with the names of the most powerful strange Gods. It was said, ‘A thousand of the male and female Gods of the country of the Hittites, together with a thousand of the male and female Gods of the country of Egypt, will be with us as witnesses to these words: ‘The God of Zeyetheklirer, the Gods of Kerzot, the God of Kherpenteres, the Goddess of the city of Kerephen, the Goddess of Khewek, the Goddess of Zen, the God of Zen, the God of Serep, the God of Khenbet, the Queen of the Heavens, and the Gods and all the Lords of Swearing, the Goddess and the Mistress of the Soil, the Mistress of the Mountains and the rivers of the land of the Hittites, of the heavens, the soil, the great sea, the wind and the storms.’

“That was how it ended,” said Menenhetet,” ‘the wind and the storms,’ and there was a hush when all was read and we were finished. Ramses pressed the cartouche of His ring on the soft silver of the tablet, and the mark was made. He embraced the messengers. Lo, the war was done.”

When Menenhetet was silent, our Pharaoh yawned. He did not seem pleased to hear the names of so many strange Gods, and remarked, “Hathfertiti may be wise in her wish that you return to more amusing matters. Yes,” He said, “You hide yourself too much in this account. You are too modest.” He shook His flail as if to clear the air of all echoes of this treaty. “Do you know,” He said, “that when I first ascended the throne, your name was always on the lips of My little queens?”

“My name?” asked my great-grandfather.

“None other.”

“But I have not been in the House of the Secluded since the year I served there for Usermare.”

“For that, you were mentioned all the more. I grew to detest their fascination. Even when they were silent, I was obliged to hear the little queens think of you.”

On this pause I lived in the mind of my mother, and knew her discomfort. It was as simple as the beating of my own heart: Our Pharaoh spoke so easily of hearing the thoughts of others. Now, He must be enjoying her thoughts far better than she could hope to dwell in His! On that instant, like a cloth thrown on a spill of soup, the inside of her head became as clean as a floor that is wiped.

Ptah-nem-hotep gave a smile. I wondered if He was amusing Himself with how empty and polished were the thoughts presented to Him; then He laughed. “Yes,” He said, “no man in Egypt attracted more attention than you, Menenhetet, among My beauties. They live in a sea of gossip, and you were the storm that hides in the wind of the sea. Even now, they suffer a perfect fury that not one of them was invited to be with us. I can hear them”—He pointed an indolent finger in their direction. “So be it. They will talk of you tonight, and tell again all the stories I have already heard about your second life, and your third, and your fourth. Of course, your first life is their favorite. They will never quit speaking of how you were General-of-all-the-Armies, and yet, so great, they say, was the prestige of the House of the Secluded in the years of Usermare, that you were made Governor of the Secluded.”

“Is that how they speak of it?” asked Menenhetet.

“By half,” said Ptah-nem-hotep. “Some of the little queens keep a high opinion of their importance. Others wonder how a General-of-all-the-Armies could bear to become a keeper of concubines. They have quarrels over this, I assure you. Still, I expect you fascinate them for a better reason. No story absorbed My harem beauties (nor Myself) so much as the one that is always whispered—for they believe it is a sacrilege. Indeed I can hardly believe it either. Especially since your account of your first meeting with Ramses the Second and His Queen is most innocent. But they say—you see, I whisper it Myself—they say you became the lover of Queen Nefertiri. I even heard that you departed from your first life and entered your second by way of a knife left in your back. That you died as your seed went forth into the Queen.”

Ptah-nem-hotep smiled, a true sweetness on His lips. Had He been waiting through this night to encourage Menenhetet to tell us about the love of Queen Nefertiri? He was certainly amused by the shock He had given to all.

My mother had every thought at once, including every one of my father’s. His thoughts leaped into her. He saw Menenhetet lying on Nefertiri’s belly. Indeed, my father was so overcome by the sight of family flesh upon royal flesh that his groin was plucked, and he came forth right there and was wet beneath his linen. My mother was instantly offended by the waste. The fresh seed of my father was the finest lotion she had ever found for her face.

Menenhetet began to cough. A desert wind could have been whistling down the caverns of his body. Yet so soon as it was gone, he was quick to speak.

“I do not wish,” he said, “to contradict Your amusement, but there is much I cannot recollect. To be born more than once, as I have been born these four times, is not the same as remembering each life clearly.”

“All the same,” our Pharaoh replied, “My request is that you tell us of your friendship with Queen Nefertiri.”

“I served first as Governor to the little queens,” said Menenhetet. “Only later did I become Companion of the Right Hand to the King’s Consort, Queen Nefertiri.”

“Then I would hear of these matters in order. As you tell us, so may you remember much that you believe is forgotten.”

Menenhetet bowed, and touched his head to his fingers seven times. “I will,” he said, “say again that these matters are more difficult to relate than the story of one great battle.”

“Yes,” said our Pharaoh, “but I feel no haste. It is My preference to be entertained on this night through all the hours of darkness.”

“And to be amused by Your guests,” said my mother.

“Yes, by My guests,” said Ptah-nem-hotep, and as if her attention—if it became too sulky—would spoil His own, He gave her a dazzling smile, then turned back to Menenhetet. “Find your memory, old friend,” He said.

“May I speak,” asked Menenhetet, “of the years after Eshuranib when I rose in the army? I think that may warm my thoughts. For I confess, it is not comfortable for me to move so quickly into the Gardens of the Secluded.”

“I say again,” said our Pharaoh, “tell it in your manner.”

Menenhetet nodded. “I would go back to my careful study of the treaty with the Hittites written on silver. For I would never have become General-of-all-the-Armies if not for the influence of those words on me. I had never read language so fine. It suggested to me that I must learn the arts of subtle men. This Khetasar had known how to address Usermare. All I had gained until then had come from the gifts of my body, but, now, if I would thrive in the world, I must learn the arts of speech.”

“Did you discover many principles for such use?” asked my Pharaoh.

“One principle above all: Avoid all subjects of which your superiors are afraid. All men are afraid, I learned, and do everything in their power to conceal what they fear the most. Those, for example, who are cowardly will tell you of their acts of courage so long as you were not there to witness them.

“I, who used to believe all that was told me, began to look for the lies. I soon could recognize ambitious men by the traps they set to discover if you told the truth as little as themselves. I came to enjoy such games and the people you could play them with. Be certain I studied flattery. That was still the fastest way to become valuable to one’s superior. Of course, by the balance of Maat, I also had to learn that it was not wise to become too indispensable, or you would never be given a promotion. Look at the best of houseservants. They always die in the same job. The trick, therefore, is not only to please one’s superior but inspire a little uneasiness—the fear, at least, that you know his fear. That will make him wish to promote you. He can still receive your compliments but at a safer distance. I even had to learn how to keep my inferiors from advancing more quickly than myself, which was a skill I had always scorned before. What need had I of flanks in my early days? Like Ramses, Beloved-of-Amon, I believed in nothing but attack. Yet I had learned, by way of Hera-Ra, that the unforeseen could destroy you. So I was careful to slow the ambition of officers beneath me, yet quietly, so they did not know, and to my superiors I tried never to be unsettling. I had come to understand that no one hates the unforeseen so much as men of powerful family and mediocre ability. Amuse them, titillate them, confirm them in their habits, speak softly to their fears, but do not alter their day. They are terrified of all that is larger than themselves.”

“Never have I heard you speak more eloquently,” said our Ptah-nem-hotep. “It is the voice of the highest servant.” He reached across the table and tapped Menenhetet with His flail. “But why,” said Ptah-nem-hotep, “do you tell these truths? Why not hold more closely to your principles and offer a few lies?”

Now, my great-grandfather showed a smile. “The art of the liar is to speak so well that You will never know when he is ready to betray You for the first time.”

“You set My heart to beating,” said Ptah-nem-hotep. “Now, you must tell Me what is next.” I could see, however, that He was greatly amused for He had succeeded in making my great-grandfather eloquent once more.

FOURTEEN

“I May,” said Menenhetet, “have spoken too much of these low arts. It would give the impression I was not a true soldier. That is misleading. While the Hittites never rose again, our armies were always in some small war, and I fought at Askelon, at Tabor in Galilee, in Arvad and the lower regions of Retenu, a hundred battles, although none like Kadesh. We were always strong, and never were we surprised again in our camps.

“All the same, we fought for years. Each year we would gain much territory and take several towns. Then we would go back to Thebes and the territories would be in revolt again. Our Majesty took so much in taxes and spoil.

“My career, however, prospered. I was the only Egyptian officer who could make war in the field, yet had studied the skill of flattery in Thebes. Our High Priest, Bak-ne-khon-su, was so old by now that on many a day, he sent one of his Second Priests for the daily audience with the King. So I learned the art of flattering Second Priests. That is the most demanding practice. May I say it helped if you brought something to eat—at least to those priests who were fat. The thin ones proved more difficult. Sometimes, they could only be charmed by one’s knowledge of special prayers. But then the fat fellows were always happy to tell you which verses appealed to the thin priests.” He smiled. “I must say there were some very thin servants of Amon who were satisfied only if you gave them gifts of the rarest papyri, or stones of fine color brought back from the wars. Misers are the same in all occupations. Be certain I cultivated each priest, fat or thin, who could speak to Ramses the Second, and I watered them like my own tree. Of course, my Pharaoh did not like me a great deal better than on the day He had sent me away to the Nubian desert, but how could He name a Libyan or a Syrian to command His Armies when an Egyptian as suitable as myself was near? I also knew how to speak of the infinite love of Amon for my Pharaoh’s face. He did not really want me for General-of-all-the-Armies, but when the choice came down at last to Amen-khepshu-ef, or myself, I think He found that He did not trust His son. How can any terror be greater than the fear of being betrayed by one’s own blood? I was at last promoted, and given my gold carriage.

“I think I would have been His General for many years, if not for a trait in Usermare-Setpenere that caused great imbalance in the stability of those days. While our Two-Lands were never more powerful, nor a Pharaoh more esteemed and more beloved, yet His desire for women was insatiable. How he thrived among the rivalries, jealousies, intrigues, and detestations He stimulated among them in the near to thirty years since the Battle of Kadesh. Only a God could have lived so far beyond the balance of Maat. In this manner, He was also Ramses the Great.

“He was, of course, much changed from the young King Who rode with Nefertiri. I would even say it was the great and horrible day at Kadesh that affected Him forever, and in all ways. Certainly, His love for Nefertiri did not remain the same. Until that campaign, my King might spend an afternoon with one of His little queens from the House of the Secluded, or knock the cup of a farmgirl, or two farmgirls, as He did with me on that ride into the valley of His tomb, but that was no more than a sport. Nefertiri was His sister, the love of His childhood, His first bride, His only Queen. On the day They were married She was twelve, and He thirteen, and they say Her beauty was so full of light you could not look at Her. Even in the first years I knew Him, I do not believe He had many thoughts which were not of battle, prayer, Nefertiri, or His other true taste—the buttocks of brave men.