Three Novels of Ancient Egypt

During all this, Djedef was in a kind of daze that insulated him from what was going on around him. This was not the euphoria of victory — rather, it was a more serious and engrossing concern. For while he was listening to the prince's speech with his classmates, his eyes drifted from the speaker, only to find them settling on Princess Meresankh. Thunderstruck, he nearly fell on his face. By the gods in heaven, what did he see but the face of the peasant girl whose portrait he carried next to his heart! He wanted to look at it longer, but he feared that would cause a scandal, so he stared straight ahead without paying attention to anything. And when the gala ended and he recovered from his sudden surprise, he made his way back to the barracks like one touched by madness.

Could it be that his beautiful farmer's daughter is really Her Royal Highness Princess Meresankh? That seemed beyond belief— impossible even to imagine!

On the other hand, could one easily accept that there existed two faces with this same bewitching beauty? And had he forgotten the arrogance that the one in the picture showed him — a behavior not found among peasant girls? Yet all of these things together could not support this bizarre conjecture: if only he could carry out further inquiries in the features of her face!

And what, then, if she is the princess? Something immense had come to him whose consequences he could not predict. At this he lost his self-control and laughed — with bitter derision. “How fantastic!” he told himself. “Djedef son of Bisharu is in love — with the princess, Meresankh!” Then he gazed at the picture forlornly for quite a long time.

Are you truly the majestic princess?” he demanded of her image. “Be a simple peasant girl — for a peasant girl lost is nearer to the heart than a princess found.”

19

Djedef made ready to leave Bisharu's palace as an independent man for the first time. And this time he would leave behind him sadness mixed with admiration and pride, as Zaya kissed him until she drenched his cheeks with her tears. Kheny, too, blessed him in farewell: the priest himself had started preparing to depart their home for the temple. Meanwhile, Nafa gripped his hand warmly, saying, “The passing days will prove my prophecy true, O Djedef.” And a new member of Bisharu's family likewise bid him goodbye — this was Mana, daughter of Kamadi and wife of Nafa. As for old Bisharu, he put his coarse hand on the soldier's shoulder and told him with conceit, “I am happy, Djedef, that you are taking your first steps on the path of your great father.” Nor did Djedef forget to lay a lotus blossom on Gamurka's grave before taking leave of his house on the way to the palace of His Royal Pharaonic Highness, Prince Khafra.

By fortunate coincidence, one of his comrades in the prince's barracks was an old childhood friend, a decent, frank-spoken, warmhearted boy. His companion of yore, whose name was Sennefer, rejoiced at his arrival, receiving him warmly.

'Are you always on my trail?” he asked him, teasingly.

“So long as you're on the road to glory,” Djedef answered, grinning.

“Yours is the glory, Djedef. I once was champion of the chariot race, but as for you, there's never been a soldier like yourself: I congratulate you from my deepest heart.”

Djedef thanked him, and in the evening, Sennefer drew a flask of Maryut wine from his robe along with two silver goblets, saying, “I've grown accustomed to drinking a glass of this before going to sleep; a very beneficial ritual. Do you ever drink?”

“I drink beer — but why would I drink wine?”

Sennefer burst out laughing. “Drink!” he said. “Wine is the warrior's medicine.”

Then suddenly, he said to him seriously, “O brother Djedef, you have accepted an arduous life!”

Djedef smiled and said, somewhat disdainfully, “I am quite used to the soldier's life.”

“All of us are used to military life. But His Royal Highness is something else entirely,” Sennefer confided.

Surprise showed on Djedef's face. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“I'm counseling you, brother, on the obvious truth of the matter — and to warn you,” Sennefer said. “Serving the prince is a hardship like no other.”

“How is that?” asked Djedef.

“His Highness is extremely cruel, with a heart of stone, or even harder,” he confided. “A mistake to him is a deliberate offense,” Sennefer explained, “and a deliberate offense, to him, is a crime that cannot be forgiven. Egypt will find in him a strict ruler who does not treat a wound with balsam, as His Majesty his father sometimes does. Rather, he would not hesitate to cut off the worthless limb should it hinder him.”

“The firm monarch needs a bit of cruelty,” said Djedef.