Winged Pharaoh

by Joan Grant

  CHAPTER THREE

  Pharoah in Audience

  Every night before I sat in audience, I sent out this call: “Master, if to-morrow there be that before me which of my own experience I cannot judge truly, may I be shown away from Earth that which is necessary for my understanding: so that I can see the truth, and the Scales beneath which I sit remain a true symbol of justice.”

  One morning, on waking, I knew that I must judge between two women: one I should remember by the five gold bracelets that she would be wearing on her left arm; the other, who was the innocent one, would have a white scar, shaped like an arrow-head, on her right temple.

  The throne in the Hall of Audience was made of gilded wood, and its feet were lion-pawed. When I sat alone in audience, I held the Crook and the Flail; when Neyah and I were together, I held the Golden Lotus. On each side of the room there was a table at which sat the scribes who kept the records of all judgments. With them were those who read out the history of the case that was to be heard. This custom had been introduced by Neyah in the fifth year of his reign. Before then, every disputant had told his own story in his own time, and sometimes a man would talk for an hour and still leave his hearers with little knowledge of what he wished to say. So now to each one a scribe was allotted, who could put a long confused story into a few words.

  The first case read out to me was between the widow of a rich noble from Abidwa and a girl who had a child, but who was unmarried. The child’s father—who had died before it was born—was the son of the rich widow; and she was claiming the right to take her grandson and bring him up in her own household, saying that it was his proper home, for the child’s mother was a prostitute and had no claim either on the child or on her charity.

  The mother of the child wished to keep it with her, saying that, having inherited a small farm-land, she had the means to clothe it and feed it, and that she would bring the child up in accordance with the teachings of the Light.

  I ordered the two women to be brought in.

  One was a woman of about forty-five. She was over-richly dressed; her mouth was bitter, her hands soft and fat. And on her left arm were five gold bracelets. The other, a young girl, wore a white tunic of coarse linen and a blue cloak, which was draped over her head and hid her hair, but I could see that there was a scar upon her temple.

  The noble’s widow was plainly in awe of me and was unsure of ceremony. I knew that she wished that she were at the palace for a festival, which she could attribute to her nobility, and not for justice, when all are equal. Her face was not of the pure race. Perhaps she was the daughter of some rich trader; by the shape of her nose she must have had a strain of Zuma blood. Her fat hands were restless, she twisted her necklaces in her fingers, and her bracelets jingled on her arms. Yet she felt secure in her respectability and her riches, and had no fear of the claim of one whom she considered a prostitute.

  The girl stood very still, her arms hanging at her sides. She had the proud carriage of women who are used to carrying jars upon their heads. Her eyes never left my face. She was calm, for she knew that I should give true judgment and that, knowing her heart, I should leave the child in her keeping.

  I spoke to the girl, and asked, “Why did you have this child?”

  And she answered me, “Daughter of Horus, Bearer of Double Wisdom, Weigher of Hearts, and Mirror of the Truth! I loved his father, the husband of my heart; yet I could not share his house as wife, for I have few possessions and my husband’s mother wished him to marry one of noble blood, who could bring treasures to enrich his house. Although we could not be one before the priests, yet were our bodies joined on Earth, and when we slept we were fearless before the Gods and in our hearts we knew no shame.

  “When he fell ill, before our child was born, a servant told me that he often called for me. Yet they would not let me see him, though I waited in the garden and spoke to his mother and begged her, very humbly, that I might go to see my beloved and comfort him. She saw that I was big with child, and told me that I was a creature of the night, who by my presence made her garden fouler than a village midden. Yet when her son died, leaving no other child, she had me spied upon until my child was born, then sent her servants to my house to try to take my son away from me.”

  I asked her what she could give her son.

  “He shall have food and shelter, sun and air, the river to bathe in, plants to grow, and animals to play with; and when he is older he shall have a field to plough and a cow to milk and take to pasture; and he shall learn the ways of boats, and how to cast a fishing-net. I will teach him gentleness and truth, so that he may look in a mirror and be unafraid of what his eyes read from his own eyes. And I will teach him to keep his body pure and strong; and that the greatest happiness on Earth is to find another more beloved than oneself.”

  And all that this girl said I knew was true, for I had heard it in my dream.

  Then I turned to the other woman, and I asked her what she could give her grandson.

  She railed against the girl, saying that she was a liar and a prostitute, of whom her son had taken careless pleasure for an hour; and only from the kindness of her heart had she decided that, in duty to her son, she must protect his child from living with such a woman; and that, being of noble birth, she could not have her grandson ploughing a field and living like a servant. Then she said what riches would be his: orchards and vineyards, serving-maids and gold; which, she being a widow, all belonged to her, and when she died would go to the child, whom she would make her heir.

  When she had finished I waited a moment before I spoke. She was so sure I would decide in her favour. She did not realize that I saw her heart and knew its worth. Then I said to her, “In your house the child would have all that he needed for the comfort of his body. He would have a gilded bed, but where would his spirit go to when he lay upon it? You have shown that you know nothing of how to assist the growth of the spirit of a child.

  “You think that riches are more important than love, for you wish to give the child possessions, and yet take it from its mother. This shows that you are a fool.

  “If you acknowledge the child as your grandson, then should his mother be as a daughter to you. But in your self-righteousness you look down upon the girl. Thinking that she has sinned—and therefore that you son has shared her sin—you should have done all that was in your power to compensate her for what your son had brought her to. But instead, you wish to rob her of her child. And so you are a thief.

  “You would drive your son’s love from your door. So you are without compassion.

  “Yet you, who are a thieving fool without compassion, dare to despise one who has known unselfish love for a man and for a child. This shows you have no wisdom and small experience.

  “And lastly, you dared not go for judgment in your own city: for there they know that, but for your pride of position, the girl would have been the wife of your son. And so you brought your case to me, thinking that I, Pharaoh, would be deceived by you. This shows that, thief, and fool, without compassion, having no knowledge or experience, you dare to hold your ruler in contempt, thinking to keep your petty truth from me.

  “For this you should be whipped upon the feet.

  “Instead, you shall give to the mother of your grandson that part of all your possessions which would have been hers if she had been your son’s wife before the priests, instead of only in her heart and thus before the Gods. As well as this, you shall give her two ass-loads of gold and one of silver. And when you see less food upon your table, and fewer serving-maids about your house, it may remind you that I am Pharaoh, and the Truth.”

  Then there was brought before me a man who was kinsman to the Vizier of the Lands of the Jackal. He was a rich noble called Shalnuk, and he had demanded the right of being heard by Pharaoh.

  He had diverted the water-channels to his own vineyards, where he tried to grow three vines where one should have flourished. And the farm-lands between the borders of his estate and the river
dried up, and all the grain perished.

  When I found that he had done this not of his ignorance, but because he thought that the little fields below him mattered not and the hearts of the farmers were beyond the boundaries of his compassion, I gave judgment upon him:

  “You have sinned because you did not understand what it was that you did to others. In the green shade of your garden you forgot the sorrow of the parched fields. As understanding is the fruit of experience, and understanding is what you lack, you shall eat of the fruit that is unfamiliar to you. You shall live in the hut of a ploughman and have a rich field and two oxen to draw your plough. Beside your new home there shall be a grain-bin six cubits high and three cubits across the circle. When this is filled with the grain that you have reaped from your sowing, then shall your own lands be returned to you.”

  But though in three months this bin could have been filled, for three years Shalnuk laboured. When his grain began to gild the stalks, the plant-spirits of the grain were called away, so that it rotted and fell unripened from the ear. Thus did he labour under the hot sun, until his field was watered with the tears of his heart and he shared the sorrow of all who had suffered because of him. Then, when hope had all but died in him, his corn ripened and his granary was filled. And once again the floors of his house heard the footsteps of their master. And now in the Land of the Jackal there is no kinder overlord to his people.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The Poisoner

  One day, while Neyah and I were walking together through the vineyards in the young darkness soon after sunset, he said that he had just heard the proof of the wisdom of one of his judgments. And he told me of Benshater, who had been the chief scribe of the Vizier of the Land of the Hawk. Three months before, soon after I became Pharaoh, the vizier had died, and the messenger who had brought the news of his death brought also a petition from Benshater that he should be appointed to the office. Neyah was about to set his seal to the new title when he remembered that I had told him of a dream in which I had seen a golden hawk lying dead and bloated in the sun as if it had died of poison. Although at the time neither of us had thought the dream was of any importance, now Neyah saw its significance, for the standard of the dead vizier was a golden hawk upon a blue ground. So Neyah sent back the messenger empty-handed, saying that the candidate for office must come to the Royal City before the title could be granted.

  When Benshater came before him in audience, Neyah found that he was a scholar as well as a scribe; and so well did his face mask the evilness of his heart, and so plausible was his tongue, that he might have deceived even Pharaoh. But the seer who was watching him reported that the light of his ba was so heavy with cruelty, greed, and jealousy, that not only was he unworthy to guide others, but his light would throw a shadow in a dark pit. To every question Benshater made smooth answer, and Neyah saw that he was too clever to betray himself. So he told him to return on the following day to hear the decision of Pharaoh. Then Neyah asked Ney-sey-ra to look into the jar of Benshater’s memory: for in the water of his maat would be the reflection of those earthly deeds that had filled it.

  Ney-sey-ra did so, and he told Neyah that Benshater had poisoned the vizier. And he told him, also, the name of the poison; that it had been given in the spiced milk that the vizier drank instead of wine or beer; and the days on which it had been administered, which were fifteen.

  On the next day Benshater came before Neyah, thinking to receive great honour and the titles and office of vizier; but instead he heard the history of his crime. Neyah recounted to him in detail all that his evil had brought to pass, and Benshater thought that he had been betrayed by some hidden watcher of his crime, for he knew of no other way in which it could have been discovered. And he fell upon his face before Pharaoh and screamed for mercy.

  Then Neyah gave judgment upon him: “You who have given a slow and painful death to one whom you should have honoured, shall die in the same manner in which because of you, he died. You shall not know the time of your release. You shall be kept in a dark prison, where your guilty heart will conjure pictures of your sins and of your victim, and you will cringe from these your sole companions. Lest your body should grow weak, you shall be exercised at night, but your eyes shall be bandaged, for they are unworthy to look upon the stars. Twice a day food shall be brought to you, and while you eat you shall have a lamp. For many days you may enjoy your food, but one day, although it will have tasted the same, when you have eaten of it your bowels will twist within you as though they were trying to wring your spirit from your body. But you will recover, and you will grow strong again before this same thing shall happen to you; and it shall happen many, many times, until at last while you are racked with pain, you will implore the Gods to make your torment yet more unbearable so that your spirit may be free of it.

  “You may think to avoid your punishment by refusing to eat the food that is sent to you, but you do not know the power of hunger; it would need a stronger will than yours to starve to death while your quivering nostrils savoured choice dishes from the royal kitchens. You will remember that many dishes will give you nothing but a pleasant feeling of repletion; and, when the pangs of hunger grow keen, it is easy to forget that food might be poisoned. Even if you can resist hunger, thirst is a greater torment; you will find that there are few who would choose to die of thirst when to their hand there is a goblet of warm, spiced milk; and until the day you die you shall drink no other liquid than that in which your master drank his death.”

  Neyah paused in his story, and I told him that I thought it was a worthy judgment. He laughed and said that I had heard but a quarter of its wisdom. “This morning Benshater was found rigid in death, his bitten lips drawn back, his body twisted as though it still writhed in a last agony, and his blind eyes staring as though at some shape of horror. And yet, my sister, of my wisdom there has been no trace of poison in his food. If he had but known it, for nearly three months he has shared the dishes of our household and sometimes even those served to our own table. Yet having always before him the picture of a terrible death, which in his spirit he must have undergone ten thousand times, at last his body was so encompassed by his mind that he died, most suitably, a victim of the memory of his own evil.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Tribute

  Twice every year the people of Kam make a free gift of a twelfth part of what they have gathered during the past six months. This tribute is used for the common welfare of the country, excepting a tenth part, which belongs to the priests, and a tenth part, which belongs to Pharaoh.

  The wealth of Kam is administered by the viziers, who barter those things of which we have too much with other countries which have things that we lack. At every big city there are the Watchers of the River, who record the height of the water; and by the rising of the river they know whether the harvest will fill the granaries and there will be grain for barter, or whether there is a danger of famine, and gold and ivory must be turned into bread.

  Those of our people who have grain-lands, or animals, or anything that time does not destroy quickly, give a portion in tribute: a twelfth of their harvests, or animals from their herds, or linen of their weaving. Fishermen, and others whose goods perish, give each day a twelfth part to the temple or to the poor as a free gift. And those who work for another and who are without possessions work one month in twelve for Pharaoh, on the grain-lands or in the brick-fields or in the making of roads and water-channels.

  Throughout the land tribute is received at the temples, save in the Royal City, where it is brought to Pharaoh. In the first year of my reign Neyah and I received tribute from the steps of the outer courtyard of the palace. We were seated on two thrones of ceremony, which were covered with zebra-skins. Below us were the scribes, who kept the tallies of all that was brought. On the left side of the courtyard were those officials who would take the tribute into their care, the Overseer of the Granaries, the Royal Herdsman, the Vizier of Pharaoh, and the Overseer of the Royal Househol
d.

  In the order of tribute there was no degree of rank, for before Pharaoh all the people of Kam are equal. A farmer, with two little donkeys loaded with sacks of grain, was followed by a noble, whose porters carried tusks of ivory; then came a woman with two ducks in a wicker cage, followed by a merchant, who brought six flagons of sheptees oil; then a little girl with a bunch of radishes and a string of onions; a boy with a she-goat and twin kids; a man carrying two bales of raw wool; a noble with four collars of gold; then a kinswoman of the Royal House with two tame gazelles and her servants bearing unguents in six jars inlaid with gold and lapis lazuli; a man leading a red and white bull; and a woman with linen napkins finely embroidered; a noble from the South with gold and malachite; then six carts filled with grain, and two others with wine-jars of a rare vintage.

  Tribute is used first for the welfare of the dwellers in the temples; for the food and linen of the priests, for the temple servants, and for the journeys of the seers and healers that go about the country; so that the life of no priest is burdened by the small complexities of Earth.

  Secondly it is used to look after children who have no parents, and old people who can no longer work in the fields. Either they live in the house of a friend, who is then given sufficient grain from the granaries for their bread and for barter, or they live in houses that have been specially built for them by Pharaoh. Each city has a house for children set in gardens where they can play together and learn the care of plants, and a farm where they are taught of their brothers the animals. Some learn to be fishermen or to build in brick. The girls learn to weave linen, to make clothing, to cook, and to look after a house. They are cared for by childless women who long for children.