Three Novels of Ancient Egypt

As Bisharu calculated the impact of this shock on the blameless spirit of the happy youth, his ample torso shuddered. When he recalled Zaya, and what he would endure of her anger and resentment, he flinched in apprehension. Yet he did not think of this out of ill will or indifference to Djedef, but because he believed that the reality would somehow announce itself, if he did not do so first himself. Indeed, the very best thing would be to reveal it now and be done with it, rather than to hold it back until Djedef grew up, thus doubling the torment it would cause him. The good man hesitated, leaving the matter unresolved — and when it was time to reach a decision before enrolling Djedef in the military academy, he confided his secret thoughts to his son Kheny.

But the matter horrified the young man, who told his father in deep pain and sadness, “Djedef is our brother, and the affection that binds us is stronger even than that between brothers by blood. What harm would it do you, father, if you let things be as they will be, rather than take the dear boy by surprise with this unexpected blow of disgrace and humiliation?”

The one thing that could cost Bisharu due to his adoptive fatherhood of Djedef was his inheritance. But of the vanities of this world, Bisharu possessed no more than a substantial salary and a grand palace, and his paternity — or lack thereof- of Djedef threatened neither of these. For this reason, he sympathized with Kheny's anger, saying in self-defense, “No, my son, I would never humiliate him; I have called him my son, and I will continue to do so. His name will be inscribed among the students of the military college, ‘Djedef son of Bisharu.’ “

Then he laughed in his usual way, rubbing his hands as he said, “I've gained a son in the army.”

Wiping away a tear that ran down his cheek, Kheny rejoined, “No — you've earned the Lord's pleasure, and His pardon.”

11

The month of Tut was nearly done, and — with it, only a few days remained for Djedef to stay in Bisharu's house before his departure to study the ways of war. These days were also the most nervous ones for Zaya. As she considered the two long months that he would be secluded within the academy — and then the long years that she would only be able to rest her eyes on him for a single day per month — fits of absentminded confusion overwhelmed her. The sight of his beautiful face and the sound of his beloved voice would be denied her, and with them the confidence and well-being that his nearness instilled in her. How brutal life can be! Sorrow enshrouded her long before the reasons for it would come to pass. Enfolding layers of pain oppressed her, like the waves of clouds driven by the winds amidst the fog of the dark and gloomy months of Hatur and Kiyahk.

When the cock crowed at dawn on the first day of the month of Baba, Zaya awoke and sat on her bed, muddled with sadness. An impassioned sigh was her first greeting to this day from the world of sorrows. Then she abandoned her bed and walked lightly to Djedef's little room to wake him and to dote over him. She entered the chamber on the tips of her toes in order not to disturb him, and Gamurka greeted her while stretching. But her plan was dashed when she found the youth had already awoken without her assistance. Softly he was singing a hymn, “We are the children of Egypt; we are descended from the race of the gods.” The boy had risen by himself, obeying the first call of soldiery. From her heart, she cried out to him, “Djedef!” Slowly becoming aware of her, he then ran toward her like a bird greeting the morning's light, hanging from her neck and lifting his mouth toward her. She kissed him while he kissed her cheeks, and picked him up in her arms and kissed his legs, before carrying him outside saying, “Come and say goodbye to your father.”

They found Bisharu still deeply asleep, sending up jarring snorts and grunts as he slumbered. She shook him — with her hand until he sat upright, moaning, “Who's there? Who's there? Zaya?”

“Don't you want to say goodbye to Djedef?” she laughed as she shouted at him.

He sat in his bed, rubbing his eyes, then peered at the youth in the weak light of the lamp. “Djedef, are you going?” he said. “Come here and let me kiss you. Go now, in the protection of Ptah!”

He kissed him — with his great, coarse lips once more, then added, “You are a child now, Djedef, but you're going to grow into a skillful soldier. I predict this for you, and the predictions of Bisharu, servant of Pharaoh, are never wrong. Go then safely, and I'll pray for your sake in the Holy of Holies.”

Djedef kissed his father's hands, then went out with his mother. In the outer parlor, he met Kheny and Nafa standing there ready. Nafa cackled as he scolded him, “Hey, fearless warrior, the wagon is waiting!”