Three Novels of Ancient Egypt

Annoyed, Djedef — withdrew from their conversation, pledging to his young self that he would triumph over them, and surpass them one day. Meanwhile, the process of examining and selecting the students dragged on for three hours. Those who were accepted were kept waiting until finally an officer approached them from the direction of the barracks. He glanced at them sternly, then called out to them. “From this moment forward, you must put all anarchy behind you forever,” he warned. “You will regulate yourselves with order and obedience. From now on, everything — including food, drink, and sleep — is subject to strict discipline.”

The officer lined them up in single file, and marched them toward the barracks. He ordered them to enter one by one, and as they did, they passed by a small window in the great warehouse, where each one was handed a pair of sandals, a white loincloth, and a tunic. Then they were split up among different dormitories, each one holding twenty beds in two opposing rows. Behind each bed was a medium-sized wardrobe, on top of which was a sheet of papyrus stretched in a wooden frame, upon which it was demanded that each individual write his name in the sacred script.

They all felt they were in peculiar surroundings, a place run with rigid organization, that produced a spirit of rigor and toughness. The officer loudly ordered them to take off their familiar clothes and to don their military uniforms. Then he warned them not to venture out into the courtyard unless they heard the sound of the horn — and they all complied with this command. A rapid movement spread throughout the dormitories, the first military action that these young boys would carry out. They rejoiced in their white warriors’ regalia, exulting as they put it on. And when the horn was sounded, they scurried nimbly to the courtyard, where the officers lined them up into two straight lines.

Thereupon appeared the academy's director, a senior officer with the rank of commandant. His uniform — was hung — with insignia and medals. He reviewed them with care, then stood before them as he declaimed: “Yesterday you were carefree children, but today you are beginning a life of dutiful manhood acted out through military struggle. Yesterday you belonged to your fathers and mothers, but today you are the property of your nation and your sovereign. Know that the life of a soldier is strength and sacrifice. Order and obedience are incumbent upon you, in order to fulfill your sacred obligation to Egypt and Pharaoh.”

Then the director cheered in the name of Khufu, King of Egypt, and the little soldiers cheered as well. The man commanded them to sing the anthem, “O Gods, preserve Your son whom we worship, and his fortunate kingdom, from the source-spring of the Nile, unto its estuary.” The great courtyard was filled with their birdlike voices, singing with a bursting enthusiasm and a magnificent beauty, invoking the gods, Pharaoh, and Egypt in a single melody.

That evening, when Djedef lay for the first time on this strange bed in these alien surroundings, his loneliness would not let him sleep. He sighed from the depths of his being as his imagination wandered back and forth between the darkness of the dormitory and the happy vision of Bisharu's house. He felt as though he could see Zaya as she bent toward him, and Nafa laughing contentedly, and Kheny holding forth in his logical, but effusive fashion. His dearest thought was of Gamurka as the dog licked his cheek and greeted him with his wagging tail. And when he had lost himself in his dreams, his eyelids grew heavy as he fell into a deep slumber, from which he did not stir till the sound of the horn at dawn. He then sat up in his bed without any hesitation, staring around himself with surprise, watching his friends awake and overcome the power of sleep with difficulty. Their yawns and complaints filled the air, though they were also mixed with laughter.

There would be no play time after today, for the life of busyness — and battle — had begun.

13

During this time, the architect Mirabu asked for an audience with Pharaoh, and appeared before him in his official reception hall. His Majesty reposed on the throne of Egypt, — which he had occupied for twenty-five years, performing the most glorious works for his country. He was frightful, resolute, and powerful, and a single glance did not suffice to take in all his grandeur, just as his fifty years of life had not been enough to weaken the solidity of his build or his exuberant vitality. And so he retained the sharpness of his vision, the blackness of his hair, and the acuity of his mind, as well.

Mirabu prostrated himself before him, kissing the hem of the royal robe. Pharaoh welcomed him with affection.

“Peace be upon you, Mirabu,” he said. “Rise and tell me why you have come to see me.”