Three Novels of Ancient Egypt

Zaya's face was transformed by yearning. Djedef lifted his face toward hers, filled with happiness and love. But alas, the months had passed fleetingly, and the time had come to say goodbye. Not embracing, nor kissing, nor weeping could lessen the tribulation. He descended the staircase between his two brothers and secured his place in the vehicle beside them. Then the wagon set off, carrying the dear one away as she gazed long after it through the mist of her tears — until it was swallowed by the blue light of dawn.

12

The wagon arrived at the military academy in Mereapis, the most beautiful suburb of mighty Memphis, — with the rising of the sun. Yet they found the square in front of the school already crammed — with boys hoping to enroll, all accompanied by one or more relatives. Each of them waited his turn to be called for scrutiny, after which he remained inside the academy — or was sent back whence he came.

That morning, the square was like a fairground, filled with festively decorated horses and sumptuous vehicles — for only the sons of the officer caste, or of the wealthy, were admitted to the college of war. Djedef turned anxiously right and left as he looked around, yet the faces he saw weren't strange to him, for many of those present were his classmates from primary school. So, pleased and charged with courage, his sagging spirits revived.

The voice of the school's crier called out continuously, while the torrent of students kept pouring into the building's monumental entrance. Some of them stayed within, while others emerged, their faces dejected, in obvious distress.

Kheny was staring sternly into the crowd. “Are you mad at me?” Djedef asked, disturbed by his look.

Kheny put his hands on the boy's shoulders. “May the Lord protect us, dear Djedef,” he said. “The military is a sacred profession so long as it is just a public duty to which one devotes its full due for a time, and then returns to normal life. The soldier would not neglect any god-given talent, and would guard his spirit against useless distraction. I am confident, Djedef, that you will not disappoint any of the hopes that inflamed your soul in my room. As for your military escapade, and your commitment to carry it out — this entails the renunciation of your human feelings, the destruction of your intellectual life, and a regression back to the ranks of the animals.”

Nafa laughed, as usual. “The truth is, my brother, you are rhapsodizing the pure life of wisdom, that of the priests,” he said. “As for my own models, I sing the praises of beauty and pleasure. There are others — and these are the soldiers — who resent contemplation and — worship sheer force. Mother Isis be praised that she endowed me with a mind that can perceive beauty in each of the colors that cover all things. Yet, in the end, I am not able to look after anyone's life but my own. In truth, the capacity to choose between these lives comes only to those who know them both, who are not biased against either one of them. But it's impossible to find such an arbiter.”

Djedef's wait was not long, for soon the school crier called out, “Djedef son of Bisharu,” and his heart pounded. Then he heard Nafa say to him, “Farewell, Djedef, for I don't think you'll be returning with us today.”

The youth embraced his brothers and strode through the forbidding door. He went into a room to the right of the entrance, and was met by a soldier who ordered him to remove his clothes. The boy took off his robe and walked up to an elderly, white-bearded physician, who examined each limb and member, glancing appraisingly at his form. Then the doctor turned to the soldier and said, “Accepted.” Overcome with joy, the boy put his robe back on, as the soldier led him out into the academy's courtyard, leaving him to join those who had been accepted before him.

The school's grounds were as vast as a large village, surrounded on three sides by a huge wall, adorned with warlike scenes of battlefields, soldiers, and captives. On the fourth side were barracks, storehouses for weapons and provisions, plus the headquarters for the officers and commanders, grain sheds, and sheds that housed the chariots and wagons, altogether resembling a formidable fortification.

The youth looked over the place in astonishment, his eyes eventually fixing on the assembled throng of his fellows. He found them puffing themselves up with tales of their family lineages, boasting of the exploits of their fathers and grandfathers.

“Is your father a military man?” one boy asked him.

Irked at the question, Djedef shook his head. “My father is Bisharu, Inspector of the King's Pyramid,” he said.

Yet the boy's face showed that he wasn't impressed by the title of inspector. “My father is Saka, Commander of the Falcon Division of spearmen,” he bragged.