Читать книгу Out of the Black Land - Kerry Greenwood - Страница 23

The scribe came that evening, before Tey had finished her remarks on how appalling our presence in the mammissi had been. Indeed, I feared that she would never get to the end of them, and I was to be scolded down to my grave.

'The only reasons that I am not at this moment beating you until you scream,' she added 'is that you came with your stories at the right moment, to distract the Queen. She had been labouring for hours before she called for me, and she was at the end of her strength. So, it has ended well. And what did you think of the great female mystery, daughter?' she demanded, more mildly.

'Strange and terrible,' I said. 'Were all of us thus born?'

'All except Amenhotep our Lord may he live,' said a voice from the door.

'Even he, may he live forever, and divine conception aside, was born of a woman,' snapped Tey. 'Who are you?'

'I am Ptah-hotep, the Great Royal Scribe,' said the young man mildly. 'I was asked by the Princess Sitamen to bring a scribe for your daughters, Lady. Here he is. His name is Khons, and he asks more questions than anyone could answer.'

'He should be heart-friend to these two, then,' snarled Tey. 'This is Great Royal Wife Merope, a barbarian princess, and this is my daughter the Lady Mutnodjme, sister to the Divine Spouse Nefertiti. Have you eaten, young man?'

This was a polite enquiry made of all visitors, but it was not delivered in a polite tone. Even Khons raised an eyebrow and looked at the Great Royal Scribe who, I could not help but note seemed awfully young to be so eminent.

He was good looking. He had very long hair, braided into a plait by someone with a great deal of skill. She had threaded in blue beads and small mirrors that winked and flashed as he moved. He wore no jewellery but his scribal ring, big enough to stiffen a hand to the knuckle. His cloth was perfectly plain. He had the pale skin, high cheekbones and elongated eyes of the Theban bloodline, and those black eyes were wary, giving nothing away. His voice was low, clear and firm and his mode of address very formal.

'Great Royal Nurse Tey, Gracious Lady, I am sure that you will wish to be exceedingly hospitable to the Teacher Khons, because I will be obliged to report to the Princess on his progress and I would be very loathe to have to say anything to your discredit. I am bidden to dine with the High Priest of Amen-Re so I cannot stay long, but I would enjoy a cup of beer and a little conversation with your daughter Lady Mutnodjme and Great Royal Wife Merope.'

Merope, who had been hanging back, came forward and offered him her hand to kiss. He sank to one knee and did so with due solemnity. My mother flicked a hand at the slaves, and chairs were brought. We all sat down.

Great Royal Nurse Tey was examining the scribe closely and suddenly decided to like him, which was how Tey was. If she loved you, she loved you no matter how she might later scream or slap. If she hated you, she hated fiercely and could not be diverted. It was a pity that she had never loved me and I did not know how to change her mind.

'I greet the Great Royal Scribe,' she said formally. 'I beg that he should forgive my hasty words. I have just come from the childbirth of the Queen Tiye may she live and I am fatigued.'

'May we hope that the Great Lady was safely delivered?' Scribe Ptah-hotep matched her in courtesy.

'Indeed, of a son. She has called him Smenkhare. As you are dining with the High Priest, please inform him of this event. Do me the honour of tasting this brew,' she said, as the slaves brought a jar of the very light ale which we drank on very hot days.

Ptah-hotep handed his cup to a slave who stood by the door. A Nubian woman with beaded hair sipped and nodded and returned it to him.

'Your precautions are wise, Lord, if you will forgive me saying so.'

'I forgive you, certainly,' said the young man. Honours were, I decided, about even. Tey was interested in the Scribe but could not, in politeness, ask any more questions.

Teacher Khons was older than the Scribe Ptah-hotep. He was thickset and looked strong, and I wondered at the mess that someone had made of his back. He had been beaten many times. I wondered who had beaten him and why. He had a shaved head and golden rings in his ears and a fine, wide, dazzling grin which showed teeth like seeds. He grinned at us and we smiled back, a little nervously. I wondered if his teeth could bite as well as smile.

'Let us see if we will suit,' he said to me. 'Greetings, Lady Mutnodjme, Lady Merope. What would you ask of your teacher?'

'Tell us about the divine birth,' I said. Birth was on my mind and I had privately resolved to see it again.

Teacher Khons spoke promptly:

The Divine Amenhotep's mother lay down in her bed one night, and behold! her husband came to her, and lay down with her, and did such things as were pleasing to her .

And she said, 'You have pleased me and lain inside me, and I felt your seed spring in me. I am scented with your essence; my soul took flight; I love you'.

But he did not speak in reply but left her and was gone.

That night she conceived the Lord Amenhotep; and yet her husband had slept the night alone.

'How?' I demanded. 'How can she have conceived if her husband slept alone? You just said he lay with her.'

'It was Re the Sun, even Amen-Re himself, who lay with the great Royal Wife,' explained Teacher Khons.

We thought about it.

'Amen-Re in the shape of her husband?' I puzzled it out. 'He came to her in her husband's form?'

'She was a virtuous woman who took no lovers,' explained Khons. 'Therefore he had to come in her husband's shape, or she would have rejected him, even the god, even the Sun himself.'

'But...' I began. The Scribe Ptah-hotep lifted a hand.

'I must leave you, I regret. Teach them well, Khons, I leave it in your hands. You will lodge here, and the Great Royal Wife Tiye is responsible for your expenses. Farewell, ladies.' He stood up. The Nubian woman opened the door for him.

'Come again,' urged Tey, making one of her infrequent bows. The young man returned the bow and his mirrors glittered.

'Lady,' he acknowledged, and left.

'Tell us another,' urged Merope.

Tey flapped a hand at me. 'In a moment. Teacher Khons, you may lodge here, and the young ladies will show you where you can lay your mat. It is very kind of the Queen to send you, and I appreciate it. If you can answer some of the ladies' questions, you will be performing a valuable service.

'Tell me,' she said, escorting him to the small chamber next to ours and instructing a woman to lay out his mat and refold his bundle of creased garments, 'What do you know of the scribe Ptah-hotep? He has impressed me very favourably.'

'Lady, he took me out of the school of scribes and rescued me from a marshy fate. He was the best scribe at the school, which is why the Master offered him to Pharaoh Akhnamen may he live! Otherwise, I did not know him well,' said Khons, watching a slave lay out his frayed and damaged wardrobe with evident embarrassment.

'We will ask the Queen for some new cloths,' said Tey, slightly amused. 'Where do you come from, Teacher?'

'From the North, Lady, the Nome of Set. My father trades in pots in the market,' he added, fiercely rather than humbly.

'Mine trained racehorses,' returned Tey. 'It is difficult, is it not? To live in a palace that knows no lack, with people who have never walked on hard earth or lived on fish and beans? But we manage, Teacher.

'Now, even though it is still so hot - will the Southern Snake never stop blowing? - I must be away to visit my Lady the Queen, and you can tell stories to these voracious maidens. Ask the slaves for whatever you want,' said Tey, and went.

I heard the outer door slap closed. Then I drew a deep breath, echoed by my new sister, and we both sat down on Teacher Khons' sleeping mat.

'Tell us another,' we said, almost in unison.

'First you will tell me,' he said in a guarded fashion, 'Is the lady your mother always like that?'

'How?' I asked.

'So short, so brisk, so... decided.'

'Yes,' we both agreed.

'Ah. Then we had better make some progress in learning or I'll be off to Khnum at Hermopolis faster than a vulture flies. Tell me what you already know, Lady Mutnodjme.'

'I can read and write cursive and understand most of the hieroglyphs. I can tell stories. Do you know a lot of stories?'

'Hundreds.' He turned to Merope. 'And you, Lady?'

'I never learned to write,' said Merope. 'But I can tell stories, too.'

'And you can speak Kritian,' he added. 'An accomplishment that many of us would envy. Very well. While you are learning cursive, my Lady will learn hieroglyphics. And we will tell lots of stories. Will that please my ladies?'

'Yes. Who beat you?'

'My Master at the school of scribes.'

'Why?' I traced the scars where thin canes or whips had cut his smooth flesh.

'For asking too many questions. For arguing.' He smelt pleasantly of frankincense, now that I was close to him. Merope also edged nearer, and Teacher Khons began to look nervous.

'Sit further away,' he ordered. 'It is too hot to be close in this wind.'

'Where does the wind come from?' I asked, as I moved to another mat.

'It is the breath of Apep, the great Southern Snake, foe of Re the Sun since the beginning of time. At Ephipi, and into Mesoré, the power of Re is diverted to the other side of the world, and Apep roars, desiring to take the Black Land again into his maw and slake his thirst by drinking the Nile dry.'

'Could he do that?'

'Once he did just that,' said Khons. He slid down until he was leaning on one elbow, chin in hand, examining us with his black eyes.

'When?'

'Shall I tell you the tale?'

'Tell us about Apep and Re,' we chorused. Merope and I lay down also on reed mats, and Basht came padding in and settled down with her chin on Merope's chest. It seemed that the striped cat liked stories, too.

'Apep is a gigantic serpent,' he began.

'How gigantic is he?' I asked.

'He is two hour's walk from end to end, and in the middle as wide as the Nile at flood,' replied Khons. We gasped and he continued the tale:

You know that the Lord Amen-Re sails his sun-boat under the world into the Tuat every night? Every hour of darkness he must fight off some attacker or fiend, for the otherword is not as here, my students, it is dark and the water is troubled. Fiends stalk the darkness, and the evening carries more dangers than just robbers and thieves.

As the sun boat navigates the Tuat river in black darkness, Apep comes swimming. Each undulation of his body is as high as the sky, and five armies could march under him abreast. Slithering he comes, for he is cold. Faintly he shines, for he is slimy.

In the night frightened wayfarers see the gleam of his teeth under the cold stars, and dig holes in the sand to hide from the cold stare of his eyes. For he is the great devil, the everlasting Foe of all that is warm, and breathes, and lives.

'What about fish?' I asked. 'They do not breathe and are cold. Do they belong to Apep?'

This would have been the point where any other storyteller would have snapped at me for interrupting, but Teacher Khons took it in his stride.

'Fish breathe, Lady, they just breathe water, not air. And they are warmer than the water in which they swim, and they can be eaten by humans, so they are not of Apep. But the green viper and the horned viper are his own children, and live to slay anyone who touches them.

Now this Apep attacks the boat on which the Sun who is Re rides through the Tuat, and the kind gods fight him; even She who is Beauty and Music, even the gentle Hathor.

Apep roars, and the stink of his breath burns the sail of the Sun Boat; he dives, and the river banks are flooded and washed by his bow-wave. And the gods kill and dismember him, he who is Destruction, and cast him into the river.

But every day, while the Sun Re is in the sky, Apep reforms and draws his bones and his flesh together, and every night he attacks again.

Some men say that one night, if belief fails, then he will win: and that will be the end of light, and warmth, and the world.

We shivered pleasurably. 'You have the spell which they recite every day in every temple of Amen-Re in the Black Land,' said Teacher Khons. 'The priests say it as they destroy a wax image, melting it and spitting on it and crushing it underfoot. We will listen while you read it, Lady Mutnodjme.'

I took the scroll, scanned the cursive script and began to read:

Apep is fallen into the flame; a knife is stabbed into his head: his name lives no more. I drive darts into him, I sever his neck, cutting into his flesh with this knife. He is given over to the fire which has mastery over him.

Horus mighty of strength has decreed that he should come to the front of the boat of Re: his fetter of steel ties him and binds him so that he cannot move. He is chained, bound, fettered, and his strength ebbs so that I may separate the flesh from the bones, cut off his feet and his arms and hands; cut out his tongue and break his teeth, one by one, from his mouth: block up his ears and put out his eyes. I tear out his heart from its throne: I make him not to exist. May his name be forgotten and his heirs and his relatives and his offspring, may his seed never be established: may his soul, body, spirit, shade and words of power and his bones and his skin be as nothing.

I looked at Teacher Khons. 'Why, then, is the serpent still alive?' I asked.

'Because spells cannot mend everything,' said Teacher Khons, turning a gold ring in his ear. 'Because gods are a way of looking at the world. Because there must be a balance, and while there is good there must be Amen-Re, and while there is evil there must be Apep.'

That sounded reasonable. I began to think that having a teacher was going to be very interesting.