Prince Khafra, weighing in his mind what the king wished to do, said, “But my lord, this is a project that will take many long years.”
Arbu joined in his dissent, “It took Kagemni all of two decades to write his tome!”
But Pharaoh simply shrugged his broad shoulders. “I will devote to it what remains of my life,” he said.
After a moment's silence, he asked, “Do you know, gentlemen, the place where I have chosen to compose my book, night after night?”
Khufu looked into their puzzled faces, then told them, “The burial chamber in the pyramid that we feted today.”
Surprise and disbelief showing in their expressions, the king continued, “In worldly palaces the tumult of this fleeting life prevails. They are not suitable for creating a work destined for eternity!”
And with this, the audience ended — for Pharaoh did not like discussion when he had already fixed upon a final opinion. So his friends withdrew, during which time the heir apparent rode in his chariot along with his chief chamberlain, telling him with intense agitation, “The king prefers poetry to power!”
As for Khufu, he made his way to the palace of Queen Meritites, finding her in her chamber with the young Princess Meresankh, sister of Khafra, who was not yet more than ten years old. The princess flew toward him like a dove, happiness flashing in her lovely dark eyes. At the sight of Meresankh — she of the face like a full moon, with a golden brown complexion and eyes that could cure sickness with their cheer — Pharaoh could not help but smile lovingly. And so, his breast relieved of all sorrows and concerns, he greeted her with open arms.
14
An air of delight stirred — within Bisharu's palace that night. Signs of it were plain in the laughing faces of both Zaya and Nafa — and that of the inspector himself. Even Gamurka seemed to sense that something good was coming, feeling deep inside that he should rejoice, for he raced around barking, rushing back and forth in the garden like a reckless arrow in flight.
They were all waiting expectantly, when suddenly they heard a clamor from without — as the loud voice of the servant cried out ecstatically, “My young lord!” At this, Zaya leaped to her feet and ran toward the staircase, flowing down the steps without looking left or right. And at the end of the entrance hall she saw Djedef in his white uniform and military headdress, shimmering like the rays of the sun. She threw wide her arms to embrace him — and found that Gamurka had beaten her to him. He assaulted his master excitedly, hugging him with his forepaws, yipping at him to complain of the agony of his yearning.
She pulled the dog aside and grasped her dear boy to her heart, smothering him with kisses. “The Spirit answered me, my son,” she shouted. “Oh, how I have missed your eyes, and how upset I was with longing for the sight of your beautiful face. My darling, you've become so much thinner, and the sun has scorched your cheeks — you're worn out, dear Djedef!”
Drawn to the noise, Nafa came, laughing as he greeted his brother, “Welcome, Mighty Soldier!”
Djedef smiled, glancing between his mother and brother, while Gamurka danced enraptured in front of him, cutting ahead of his path on every side. Kissing his cheek, the inspector received him warmly. Bisharu looked at him for a long while with his bulging eyes that revealed his discernment.
“You have changed in these two months,” he said. “You are now truly starting to show the marks of manhood. You missed the celebration for the great pyramid, but don't feel sorry for that, because I'll show it to you myself — for I am still, and will continue to be, the inspector for the area until I take my retirement. But — why are you so tired, my child?”
Djedef laughed as he said, while playing about Gamurka's head, “Army life is cruel and harsh. During the — whole day in the academy — we are either running, swimming, or riding — now I'm an expert horseman!”
“May the gods preserve you, my son,” said Zaya.
“Do you also throw spears or practice shooting arrows?” asked Nafa.
Djedef explained the school's regimen to his brother — with the effusive prolixity of the fascinated pupil.
“No,” he said, “in the first year, we train with games, and in horseback riding. In the second year, we learn fencing with swords, daggers, and javelins. In the third year, we drill with spears, and theoretical studies are thrust upon us. Then in the fourth year, we have archery, and history lessons as well. In the fifth year, we take up the war chariot, and finally, in the sixth year, we review the military sciences and visit fortresses and citadels.”
“My heart tells me that I'll see you as a great officer, O Djedef. Your face inspires enthusiasm — and there's no harm in that, for in my calling, we predict people's futures from the nature of their features.”
Then Djedef, as if suddenly remembering something very important, inquired with interest, “Where is Kheny?”
“Didn't you know that he has joined the ranks of the priests?” Bisharu answered for him. “They now keep him behind the walls of the Temple of Ptah. They are teaching him the religious sciences, along with ethics and philosophy, in total isolation — far from the din and distractions of the world. They are trained for a life that is the closest of all to that of the soldier — for they wash themselves twice by day, and twice by night. They also shave their heads and their bodies, wear garments of wool, and renounce the consumption offish, pork, onion, and garlic. They must pass the toughest examinations, and instruct other people in the sacred secrets of knowledge. Let us all pray that the gods steady his steps, to make him a sincere servant for them, and for their faithful believers.”
To this, all of them then said, as though with one breath, “Amen.”
“So when shall I have the good fortune to see him?” asked Djedef.
“You won't see him for four years, the years of the greatest temptation,” said Nafa, regretfully.
Djedef's face had darkened with sorrow and longing for his earliest mentor, when Zaya asked him, “How will we see you, from now on?”
“On the first of every month,” the boy answered.
At this, her brow furrowed, but Nafa laughed, “Don't stir up sadness, Mother,” he said. “Let's see how we can spend this day — what do you think of an outing on the Nile?”
Zaya shouted, “In Kiyahk?”
“Does our soldier dread the harshness of storms?” Nafa asked, sarcastically.
“But I can't do it in this month's weather,” answered Zaya, instead. “Nor can I be separated from Djedef for even one minute of this day. So let's all stay in the house together. I have saved up a long talk with him that I cannot bear to keep to myself any longer.”
Meanwhile, all of them had noticed that Djedef's formerly carefree spirit had disappeared, that he spoke but rarely, and that an unfamiliar stiffness and gravity now enfolded him. Nafa looked at him with surreptitious anxiety, and asked himself: “Will Djedef keep this new personality for very long? He's running away from seriousness and rigidity. Perhaps he didn't feel the loneliness in Kheny's absence when he was under the stress of his army discipline.” But he denied his fears to himself, saying, “Djedef is still new to his military life. He's not able to digest all of it in just a short time. He'll feel some alienation and pain until he becomes accustomed to it completely. At that time he will put aside his unhappiness, and his normally jolly and pleasant nature will return.” Then he thought that if Djedef accompanied him to look over his art, then perhaps his gaiety would revive. So he said to him, “Hey, Officer Big Shot, what do you think of going to see some of my pictures?”
But Zaya was furious. “Stop trying to steal him away from me!” she shouted. “On the contrary — for he's not leaving this house today!”
Nafa drew a deep breath and said nothing. Then a thought occurred to him. He produced a large sheet of papyrus and a reed pen, and said to his brother, “I will draw a portrait of you in this beautiful — white outfit. This — will help me keep the memory of this lovely occasion, so that I may look upon it fondly on the day your shoulders are adorned with a commander's insignia.”