Three Novels of Ancient Egypt

The two hardly separated, for when Djedef went to bed, Gamurka would lay by his side. If Djedef sat quietly — which happened rarely — the puppy, legs akimbo, stretched out across from him. Or he would keep licking his companion's cheeks and hands, as his love required. He followed the boy about in his walks in the garden, or rode with him in the boat if Zaya carried him to it to tour about the palace pond. They would raise their heads over the boat's rim to gaze at their reflections in the water. As they stared, Gamurka would not stop yapping, while Djedef delighted at the beautiful little creature that looked so much like him, — who dwelt in the pond's depths.

When spring came, the heavens were filled with the hymns of the birds, cleaving the heavy mantle of winter that had cloaked the joyous sun. The universe donned the festive garb of youth — the trees in brocades of silk, the shrubs with colorful flowers and their fragrances. Love was in the air, and many couples amused themselves by boating, while children were left to run about all but naked. Kheny and Nafa leapt about in the water, swimming and throwing a ball back and forth to each other. Djedef would stand with Gamurka, watching them enviously — and would ask his mother if he could do what they were doing. Then she would lift him up from under his arms, setting him in the water up to his waist, and he would kick with his feet, shouting with glee and happiness.

When they had sated themselves with frolic and games, they would return all together to the summer garden. Zaya would sit on the couch and in front of her would be Djedef, Kheny, and Nafa, and before them would lie Gamurka, again with his legs akimbo.

She would tell them the story of the shipwrecked sailor who floated over the crashing waves on a plank of wood to a lost island. She told them how the giant serpent who ruled the island had appeared to him, and how it would have killed him — if it hadn't realized that he was a faithful believer of praiseworthy conduct, as well as one of Pharaoh's subjects. The serpent looked after him, giving him a ship filled with precious treasures, with which the sailor returned to his homeland safe and sound.

Djedef didn't really understand these tales, but he eagerly followed their telling with his two beautiful dark eyes. He was happy and well loved, for who could not adore Djedef for those two deep black orbs, his long, straight nose, and his light, laughing spirit? He was loved when he spoke and when he did not, when he played and when he sat still, when he was content and when he was restless. He lived like the immortals, never worried about tomorrow.

But — when he reached his fifth birthday, life began to reveal to him some of its secrets. At that time Kheny turned eleven years old, and Nafa, twelve. They finished their first level of schooling. Kheny chose to enter the School of Ptah to progress through its various levels, studying religion and morals, science and politics, because the youth — who had a natural leaning toward these subjects — aimed someday for a religious post, or perhaps a judgeship. Nafa, however, did not hesitate before enrolling in Khufu's school of fine arts, for he loved to fill his time with painting and engraving.

There came the time for Djedef to enter elementary school, and for four hours each day, the world of dreams in Zaya's room with Gamurka would be banished. He spent these hours with children and strangers, learning how to read and write, how to do sums, how to behave, and to love his homeland.

The first thing that they all heard on the first day was, “You must pay attention completely. Whoever doesn't should know that a boy's ears are above his cheeks — and he listens very closely once they've been smacked.”

And for the first time in Djedef's life the stick played a part in his instruction, even though he got off to a good start by appearing well prepared to learn. He avidly applied himself to the beautiful language of the hieroglyphs, and quickly excelled in addition and subtraction.