Three Novels of Ancient Egypt

Kheny turned dreamy eyes upon him. “Oh how long it has been!” he replied. “It's as though I were listening to you ten years ago, when you would hurl a question at me — do you remember, Djedef? You shouldn't be surprised, for a priest's life is spent between question and answer — or between a question and the attempt to answer it. The question is the summary of the spiritual life. Pardon me, Djedef, but what interests you about life in the temples? Not all of what is known is uttered. Suffice it that you be aware it is a life of inner struggle and purity. They habituate us to making the body pure and obedient to our will, then they teach us the divine knowledge. For where does the good seed grow except in the good soil?”

“And what are you busying yourself with, dear brother?” asked Djedef.

“I shall soon work as a servant of the sacrifices to Lord Ptah, exalted be His name. I have won the sympathy of the high priest, who has predicted that it will not be ten years before I am elected one of the ten judges of Memphis.”

“I believe that His Holiness's prophecy will come true before then,” Djedef said with passion. “You are a great man, my brother.”

Kheny grinned in his quiet way. “I thank you, dear Djedef. And now, tell me, are you reading anything useful?”

Djedef laughed. “If that's how you count military strategy, or the history of the Egyptian army, then I'm reading something useful!”

Then Kheny inquired empathetically, “Wisdom, O Djedef! You were listening to the words of the sages with zeal in this very place, but ten years ago!”

“The truth is that you planted the love of wisdom in my heart,” Djedef said. “But my life in the military leaves me little free time for the reading I crave. Be that as it may, the distance between myself and liberation has been shortened.”

Disturbed, Kheny said, “The virtuous mind never dismisses wisdom even for a day, just as the healthy stomach does not renounce food for a day. You should make up for what you have already lost, O Djedef. The virtue of the science of war is that it trains the soldier to serve his homeland and his sovereign with his might, though his soul does not benefit at all. And the soldier who is ignorant of wisdom is like the faithful beast — nothing more. Perhaps he would do well under an iron hand, but if left to his own devices, he is unable to help himself, and can help only others instead. The gods have distinguished him from the animals by giving him a soul, and if the soul isn't nourished by wisdom then it sinks to the level of the lesser creatures. Don't neglect this, O Djedef, for I feel from the depths of my heart that your spirit is lofty, and I read on your handsome forehead splendid lines of majesty and glory, may the Lord bless your comings and your goings.”

The conversation flowed between them sweetly and agreeably, closing with the subject of Nafa's marriage. Kheny learned of it for the first time from Djedef, calling down blessings on the husband and the wife. Then a thought occurred to Djedef and he asked, “Kheny, won't you marry?”

“Why not, Djedef?” the priest said to the young man. “The clergyman cannot remain sure of his own wisdom if he does not marry. Can mortal man ascend to heaven with a soul still yearning for the earth? The virtue of marriage is that it takes care of one's lust and so purifies the body.”

Djedef left his brother's chamber at midnight, and repaired to his own room. He had started to remove his robe while recalling his talk with the priest, when sorrow assailed him as he remembered his day, and the frustration it had brought him. But just before dropping onto his bed he heard a light tapping, and he bid the person knocking to come in.

Zaya entered, her face distressed.

“Did I awake you?” she asked him.

“No, Mama, I hadn't gone to sleep yet,” he said, feeling afraid. “Is everything alright?”

The woman hesitated, trying to speak, but her tongue would not obey. She gestured for him to follow her, and he did so apprehensively until she halted at her bedroom. She pointed at the floor — and Djedef saw Gamurka sprawled out as though wounded by a fatal shaft. He could not control himself as he cried out in alarm, “Gamurka… Gamurka… what's wrong with him, Mama?”

With a choking voice, the woman said, “Have courage, Djedef, have courage.”

His heart torn out of his chest, the soldier knelt by the dear dog, which did not greet him as normal by leaping about with joy. He stroked his body but Gamurka did not stir.

“Mama, what's the matter with him?” he asked again.

“Be brave, Djedef, for he is dying.”

The fearsome word horrified Djedef. “How did this happen?” he said in a protesting tone. “He came to see me this morning, the way he always does.”

“He wasn't like he always was, my dear. Even though his love for you obliterated his pain at the time, he's now very old, Djedef, and the final feebleness has been clear in him these last few days.”