Winged Pharaoh

by Joan Grant

  One day he was walking by the river—still carrying his tail over his arm—and he saw a man paddling a raft, and he said to himself, “That same thing will I do also, and then at last they will believe I am their sort of monkey.” In the water he saw what he thought was a log of wood, and he jumped on to it. It started to move along the water, and he felt very grand and important.

  Suddenly the log of wood opened two very wicked eyes and looked at him. And he knew it for a crocodile. He was so frightened that he jumped into the water and swam away very fast.

  But, just as he reached the bank, the crocodile bit his tail—right off!

  And as he walked home to his mother all the monkeys, whom he had been too proud to play with, pointed and laughed and chattered at him. Nobody was at all sorry for him, except his mother, who of course still loved him in spite of his horridness.

  Soon after, there was a great storm, and the tree they lived in swayed about so fiercely that the poor monkey who hadn’t got a tail to hold on with fell off on to his head and was killed.

  And before a year had passed, he was born again to the same mother. He learned to swing by his tail quicker than any child she had ever known; and he listened to everything she told him; and he became the nicest and friendliest monkey in all the forest.

  For now he knew that wisdom and happiness can only be found by learning that which the wise Gods have arranged for one to be taught.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Zeb the Lion Boy

  I called my lion cub ‘Natee’, and until he was a year old he was allowed to sleep in my room on a mattress at the foot of my bed. Then my father decided he must be kept with the other tame lions where they lived in the court next to the hunting-dogs, but I was sure I could persuade him to let him stay with me.

  I had been down by the marsh with Neyah. Very early that morning he had woken me to tell me that I could go swan shooting with him.

  We crept past Maata’s window, in case she should hear us, and beyond the garden we found three boys, who were friends of Neyah’s waiting for us. We had bow-cases slung over our shoulders, and little arrows for wild-fowl, in bark quivers. It was still dark, with a faint line of light on the horizon. When we got to the marsh we crawled through the reeds until we came to the lake. Then we lay on the damp earth at the edge of the shallow water, waiting for the birds to return from feeding.

  It was getting light when we heard the curious creaking noise that wild swans make with their wings. It was a flight of about thirty, shaped like an arrowhead, and as they flew over us, we loosed our arrows at them. One dropped a tuft of feathers, but flew on unharmed.

  Then we heard voices and knew it was the fowlers coming to search their snares, so we crept away very quietly. We didn’t want to be seen, because we had promised not to go out without telling our attendants.

  When I got back I found that Natee was not in my room, so I went to the lion court to see if he was there. No one was about. I unbolted the door of the courtyard and saw Natee asleep in the sun with a young lioness of about the same age as himself. I called him, and he swung across the court to me. One of the lion boys heard me; he came running up and said that Natee was to stay in the court, for he had been given orders that I was not to take him out unless I had somebody with me. I took Natee by the collar and started to lead him away, but the boy stood in the gateway and would not let me pass.

  I ordered him out of my way, but he would not move. I saw a heavy whip of plaited hide lying on a bench by the wall, and I picked it up and lashed the boy again and again across the face and shoulders. He didn’t cry out; he just stood there, looking at me. I was so angry that nothing existed for me but the boy standing in front of me and the weals the whip was cutting across his face and shoulders.

  Then Natee sprang forward and knocked the boy down. Natee wasn’t angry, but he was growling, and there was blood all down the boy’s arm where Natee had mouthed him roughly; but the boy was frightened and lay on the ground, so I called to Natee and he followed me. Then I took him by the collar and led him to my room.

  Natee was very glad to be back with me. I shut him in my room while I went to bathe, and when I got back he had chewed another hole in my mattress and pulled some of the feathers out; and he had gnawed the leg off my bed, which was a pity, because it was a very nice bed, and the legs of it were like antelopes’ legs, with little gilt hooves. I loved Natee very much, but I scolded him sternly. He didn’t mind at all, and licked my arm affectionately with his rough tongue.

  Someone came to the door, which I had bolted, and said that my father wished to see me at once in the room where he set his seal.

  He was looking at a papyrus roll when I went in. He had just come from giving audience and still wore ceremonial dress; and the Flail was on the table by his hand. When he saw me he did not smile; he looked like a statue, as if he was sitting in judgment. He said, “A whip in the hand of one of the Royal House is a symbol of justice. In your hand it was an instrument of injustice and of cowardice; for you struck one who was but showing his loyalty to Pharaoh and obeying the orders of your father. Moreover, you have injured a boy who, because of his rank and yours, could not strike back. To strike such a one is the action of an arrogant coward and is unworthy of our tradition. If you were a man, or in fact, if you were not a young girl-child, I should order you to be whipped. Then, had you done this wilfully, you would gain a just reward; and had you done it through ignorance, you would gain an experience that would remind you that he who raises a lash unjustly shall have weals upon his own back. As you are but a child, I hope that the flail of my anger will be sufficient to teach you this law.”

  It was the first time I had realised what I had done; and I thought how brave the boy had been, and how he had never moved all the time I was hitting him. I so wished I wasn’t a girl, and that I could be beaten instead of seeing my father so cold and stern and far away. I tried to make myself angry, so that I shouldn’t cry.…I’m not a coward! I’ll show him I’m not…and I put my wrist in my mouth and bit it until the blood ran through my teeth. It was very difficult to do, because it hurt, a lot! Then I held out my wrist with the blood on it and said, “That’s quite as much as Natee bit the boy, and I’ll go and tell him he can hit me back without remembering who I am, or that I’m a girl. I’m not a coward.”

  Then I turned and ran out of the room.

  When I got back to my room Natee was gone. I bolted the door and lay face downwards on my bed, and I cried and I cried and I cried, and my mouth got full of feathers. Then I heard a tapping on the door, and I thought it was Neyah pretending to be Father. Neyah was the only person I didn’t mind crying in front of, because he said it was only like having a stomach-ache and nothing to be ashamed of. So I unbolted the door. But it was not Neyah; it was my father. He had taken off his head-dress and his beard, and he was smiling. He took me in his arms and sat down on the bed with me on his lap. He never said anything about all the feathers, or about my bed being so rickety with its chewed leg. I was so relieved that he didn’t hate me that I couldn’t help crying three tears on his bare shoulder; and when I licked them off again, they tasted very salty.

  Then he told me he had a much better idea about how to make the Scales true again between me and the lion boy. He said that although they could be adjusted by the lion boy hitting me, a much better adjustment could be made by my trying to undo the hurt of the whip. And he said that he had a special ointment that would take the pain out of the weals, and that he also would heal them. So I blew my nose very hard and washed my face in cold water, and then we went down to the court of the attendants. The boy, who was called Zeb, was lying on a bench. First I told him that I knew I had been wrong, and I asked him to forgive me. And Zeb said it didn’t matter at all and the weals didn’t hurt. I said, “Zeb, I’m very, very sorry.” And he went down on one knee and took my hands; he held the backs of them against his eyes and said, “I will serve you truly with all my heart until I die.” And my father told him that
henceforward he should be one of my own attendants.

  Then my father showed me how to put the ointment on his weals. And for five days I tended Zeb, until the weals had quite gone.

  I explained to my father that I had lashed Zeb unthinkingly, because I was so angry, that I could think of nothing except that he stood in my way. It was when I was walking with him by the marsh; Shamba, his favourite lioness, who was more clever than any hunting-dog, was with us. My father said, “Sekeeta, your temper should be controlled by your will, as Shamba is controlled by mine. Trained anger, like a trained lion, is a faithful protector and a powerful weapon. With controlled anger a man can smite a wrongdoer as though he lashed him with a flail. And the fear of such anger is a protection for the weak against those who might hurt them if they did not fear it, just as no one would dare attack a month-old child if it were under Shamba’s protection. But he whose temper is unmastered is like a child that is chained to a maddened he-goat. He must follow where it leads; through village middens, and through swamps, and even into a cage of wild leopards that would tear them both to pieces. And so, Sekeeta, remember: anger beneath your will is a flail in your hand, but uncontrolled anger is a lash upon your shoulders.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Seers in Judgment

  Often Neyah would sit beside my father when he gave judgment, to prepare him for the time when, at the age of fourteen, he would be his co-ruler. Sometimes I would go too, so that I also might learn of his justice.

  Ptah-kefer, who was one of the chief officials of the Royal Household, sat on the left side of the Hall of Audience, between the throne of Pharaoh and the table of the scribes. Being a seer priest of the highest grade of initiation, he wore the double scarlet feather, which were the Feathers of Maat, Goddess of Truth, meaning that from his body he could see two truths, the truth of Earth and the truth of the spirit.

  Sometimes in his judgments my father would use Shamba, his lioness, in what he used to call ‘the ordeal by lion.’ He would tell a man whose heart he was weighing to walk up the room and put his hand in Shamba’s mouth; and he would tell him that, if he were pure in heart, the lioness would mouth him gently, but that, if he were guilty, then she would crush his arm to pulp. If the man were innocent, he would approach Shamba, and her teeth would be so gentle that they would not have marked the feathers of a bird. And the innocent man would depart with yet another story to tell of the wisdom of Pharaoh, saying that it was so great that even the lioness at his feet was bathed in his glory and could weigh hearts as wisely as Tahuti. But if the man were guilty, before he reached Shamba my father would raise the Flail and pronounce judgment upon him. Neyah and I would keep our faces as calm as statues, although we knew that when Father had told Shamba to be at peace, if Set walked on Earth she would have been gentle with him; and when he had told her to attack, she would have torn out the throat of the great Ptah himself.

  Once Father said to us: “Wise rulers know that many of their people are but children, although they may have the bodies of men; so he treats them as children, in ways that are within their understanding, so that they are obedient and content.”

  I asked him how he was always sure when a man had nothing to fear from Shamba. And he told me that Ptah-kefer watched the man as he walked up the room; and if he were afraid, then Ptah-kefer moved the ring on his finger. But my father said that if we wanted to know why he moved the ring, we had better ask him ourselves.

  And Ptah-kefer told us, “With our earth eyes we cannot see patience, or anger, or jealousy, or greed; we can only see the reactions of them. But if I look at a man with the eyes of my spirit, I can see his thoughts, perhaps I should say his emotions, as colour; and the darker the colour, the more clouded he is by Earth; and the paler the colour, the nearer he is to the source of light, to which one day we must all attain.

  “Jealousy and greed I see as a dull dark green; but true sympathy, which is compassion, is the pale green of the sky before dawn. Wisdom is a pale clear yellow, like sunshine on a white wall; deceit, and lust for riches, are clay-coloured, like the mud from which bricks are baked. And in the same way every kind of emotion has its special shade, and those that are most often experienced determine the colour of the light that shines from each one of us. But fear clouds the colours with a dirty grey, like oily smoke; and fierce impatience flecks them with a red, like little drops of blood. There are many other signs like these, by which I can judge a man; and if one walks toward Shamba with no hidden fear, then do I know that he has spoken truth.”

  I said, “But suppose the man was very silly and didn’t like lions, the same as I don’t like even very small and harmless snakes?”

  “None who are not men of evil fear the justice of Pharaoh; for they know that his Flail is but to protect them and the lion at his feet is part of his justice. He that would fear Pharaoh or Shamba must fear his own heart.”

  “Well, suppose he was a guilty man but he was very fond of lions, as I am, and he had one like Natee, then he couldn’t be frightened of other people’s tame lions.”

  “There are other ways by which I could tell a man guilty. Say, for instance, that two men disputed about a piece of land. If the colour of one man was heavy with greed, and the other had the turquoise blue of the poet or sculptor, and so much of it that I knew he thought too little of riches and might let his children go hungry and his wife patch her only tunic while he pondered on the small embellishments of Earth, then I would know that if he claimed the land, it was beause it was rightfully his, and not the greed of possessions.

  “But it is seldom that your father needs my sight; for, of his wisdom and understanding, he can read the hearts of men; and though he sees not the colour of their thoughts, to him their characters are as clear as though he saw them written on a scroll.

  “Long ago, when this earth was new, a wise man said, ‘Let thy light so shine forth, that wheresoever thou goest, even if it be to the Caverns of the Underworld, those who are with thee shall fear no darkness, for thou shalt light them upon their journey.’ And this light he talked of is the selfsame light that shines from all of us, of which I have told you. When our feet have reached the end of our earth journey, then will the colours of Earth have been transmuted into the whiteness of pure light. But in this whiteness is all pure colour; and in it there are the colours of the three Wards of Earth: the pale clear yellow of Wisdom, which is all experience; the gentle green of Compassion, which is perfect understanding; the true scarlet of the Warriors of Maat, which is courage that is beyond fear.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The Legend of Creation

  One day I questioned Ptah-kefer about the stars, and he said, “There are other worlds like ours, numberless as the drops of water in the river. To try to conceive of such an immensity is foolish: for he that tries to stare the secrets from the sun grows blind and cannot see even what is beneath his hand.”

  Then he told me the Legend of Creation.

  Long, long ago the Gods of Gods, who dwell so far ahead of us that we cannot conceive a thousandth part of their greatness, sent for their servant Ptah. And they gave him a bowl of Life, which, though he emptied it, was always full; and they told him that he must teach this Life how to gain wisdom, until at last it should become the pure flame of spirit with all experience. And they appointed him the overlord of Earth, a place of insentient sand and lifeless rock.

  Then throughout Earth Ptah scattered Life, and the mountains began to feel the sun that scorched their sides, and the valleys knew the deep coldness of a winter night. And the time came when this Life returned to Ptah; and from his bowl he heard a faint voice, which said, “Now we know something of heat and cold. Let us go on.”

  Then Ptah clothed the hills with trees, and the valleys he covered with young grass and flowers; and into them he poured his bowl. And Life learned how plants thrust their roots through the ground in search of strength to unfurl their blossoms to the sun; how some clasped the rocks with tendrilled vines, and others threw
their shade beside the lake. But all that they gained they shared among themselves, so that a blade of grass knew how great winds stir the branches of a tree, and the fierce cactus shared with the gentle moss its tenderness.

  Then once more the bowl was filled by Life returning. Now it spoke with a stronger voice, and said, “We have learned our lessons through the plants; now we want bodies in which we can move and seek our destiny more speedily.”

  Then Ptah made animals upon Earth. First, simple ones like worms and snails; and then the bodies of hares and antelopes, of lions and zebras, singing-birds and fish.

  Then again Life returned, and said, “Now we are wise; we can cross a desert at night; we can find water and shelter for ourselves; we have wandered far over Earth and learned a great diversity of things. Make us bodies worthy of ourselves.”

  And Ptah answered them, and said, “I have sent you forth into rocks, and into plants, and into animals. You have returned to me sharing one another’s memory and experience, and sharing also the friendliness of growing things, which as animals you still have, though long to lose. Now I will make you bodies like my own, and for the first time you shall say, ‘I am’; and in saying this must say, ‘I am alone’. No longer can I lead you on your way. Now you must start upon a long journey, which does not end until you can greet me, not as your creator but as your brother.”

  And Life said, “We demand this chance, this right, to journey to your brotherhood.”

  Then Ptah created man. And man walked upon Earth, and he rejoiced in it. The grassy valleys were soft beneath his feet; his nostrils delighted in the scent of flowers, and the taste of fruits was pleasant on his tongue. While in hot noons he rested in the shade, gazelles would come and nuzzle in his hand; lions would walk with him beside cool streams; and he would test his fleetness with the deer.