They smote the enemy as a massive fist mashes a fragile bird, while the bowmen seized all the fortified positions and the overlooking hills. Meanwhile, the spearmen moved forward behind them to protect the chariots, and to fight whoever doubled back to encircle them.
The decisive engagement ended in just a few hours. The tribesmen's villages spent that night at the mercy of the occupying army. The ground was strewn with the bodies of those killed or wounded, as the soldiers roamed here and there without any order. The Egyptians devoted themselves to searching among the corpses for their brothers in battle who had fallen on the field of honor. They kept carrying them to the encampment outside the wall, while others gathered the remains of the enemy dead in order to count them. Yet others bound the prisoners with ropes as they stripped them of their weapons, lining them up, row upon row. Then the little hamlets were emptied of their women and children and bunched into different groups, where they screamed and wailed beside their captured menfolk, guards surrounding them on every side. As the troops returned, each went to where the standard of his own unit was raised. The brigades then stood in formation, all headed by officers that had made it through the scourge of battle alive.
The commander came, followed by the leaders of the brigades, and reviewed the victorious army that saluted him with a prodigious fervor. He greeted his gallant officers, congratulating them for their success and their survival, as he paid tribute to those who had given themselves as martyrs. Then he walked with his war chiefs to the spot where the cadavers of the fallen foe were thrown. Some of their bodies were stretched out next to each other; their blood flowed from them in rivers. Djedef found a detachment watching over them, and asked the officer in command, “How many killed and wounded?”
“Three thousand enemy killed, and five thousand wounded,” the man replied.
“And our losses were how many?”
“One thousand of our own killed, and three thousand wounded.”
The youth's face darkened. “Have the Bedouin tribes cost us so dear?” he wondered aloud.
Next, the commander went to see the place where the prisoners were held. They were gathered under guard, the long ropes splitting them into groups, their arms tied behind their backs, their heads bent down until their beards touched their breasts. Djedef glanced at them, then said to those around him, “They shall work the mines of Qift that complain of being short of labor, where they'll be glad indeed to get these strong men.”
He and his consort then moved on to a raucous area, from which there was no escape, where the noncombatant captives were kept. The children bawled and cried, as the parents slapped their faces and shrieked at them. The women beat their own faces, lamenting their menfolk who were killed or wounded, or taken prisoner, or gone fugitive. While Djedef did not know their language, he gazed at them from his chariot with a look not lacking in sympathy. His sight fell upon a band of them who seemed more affluent than the rest.
“Who are these women?” he asked the officer supervising their guards.
“They're the harem of the tribesmen's leader,” answered the officer.
The commander considered them with a smile. They regarded him with cold eyes, which no doubt concealed behind them a blazing fire, — wishing that they could overpower this conquering commander — who had taken them and their master captive — and who had turned them from privileged persons into the lowest of the low in a single blow.
One of them broke free from the others and wanted to approach the commander. Between her and her goal was a soldier, who signaled to her threateningly — but she called out to Djedef in clear Egyptian, “O Commander, let me come close to you, and may the Lord Ra bless you!”
Djedef was dumbfounded, as they all were, at what issued from her tongue — she spoke Egyptian with a native accent. The commander ordered the soldier to let her approach him. She did so with slow, deliberate steps until she neared the youth, then bowed before him in deference and respect. She was a woman of fifty, of dignified appearance, her face showing the traces of an ancient beauty that time and misery had destroyed. Her features bore an uncanny resemblance to the daughters of the Nile.
“I see that you know our language, madam,” Djedef addressed her.
The woman was moved so intensely that her eyes drowned in tears. “How could I not know it, since I was raised to know no other?” she said. “I am Egyptian, my lord.”
The young man's astonishment increased and he felt a powerful sympathy for her. “Are you truly an Egyptian, my lady?”
She answered with sadness and certainty, “Yes, sir — an Egyptian, daughter of Egyptians.”
“And what brought you here?”
“What brought me here was my wretched luck, that I was kidnapped in my youth by these uncouth, uncivilized men, who obtained their just portion at your courageous hands. The vilest torment was inflicted upon me until their leader rescued me from their evil — only to afflict me with his own. He added me to his harem, where I suffered the debasement of being a prisoner — which I endured for twenty years.”
This roused Djedef's emotions even further. “Today, your captivity ends, my lady, who are bound to me by race and nation,” he told the despairing woman. “So be gladdened.”
The woman to whom time had been so cruel for twenty long years sighed. She wanted to kneel at the commander's feet, but he grasped her hand empathetically. “Be at ease, my lady. From what town do you come?”
“From On, my lord — the residence of Our Lord Ra.”
“Don't be sad that the Lord subjected you to twenty years of evil, out of wisdom known only to Him,” he said. “Yet He did not forget you. I will recount your story to My Lord the King and petition him to set you free, so that you may return to your native district, happy and content.”
Anxiously the woman pleaded, “I beg you, sir, please send me to my hometown at once. The gods may grant that I will find my family.”
But the youth shook his head. “Not before I raise your case with Pharaoh — for you, and this applies to all the prisoners — are the king's property, and we must invariably render those things entrusted to our care to their rightful owner. Yet be reassured, and do not fear anything, for Pharaoh, Lord of the Egyptians, will neither keep them as captives nor humiliate them.” He wanted to restore confidence to this tortured soul, hence he sent her to his camp, honored with great esteem.
When evening came that day the army had finished burying its dead and dressing the wounds of the injured. The men repaired to their tents to take their ration of rest after the fatigue of the exhausting day. Djedef sat in front of the entrance to his own tent, warming himself by the fire and contemplating his surroundings with dreamy eyes. On the earth, the greatest thing moving him was the sight of the Egyptian standards mounted over the wall of the fortress; in the sky, it was those stars that were like eyes sparkling miraculously for eternity by the power of the Creator and the splendor of creation. Lovely visions hovered in the heaven of his imagination, like these stars — standing in his heart for his happy memories of Memphis and the dreams that they conjured. In his rapture, he did not forget that solemn moment soon approaching when he would stand before Pharaoh and ask for the heart of the dearest creature to himself in Egypt. What a grave moment that would be! Yet, how beautiful life would be if he were propelled from triumph to triumph, transported from happiness to happiness. May it go that way always! If only the Fates would have mercy on man. But the obvious reality is that happiness is scarce in this world. And could he ever forget the image oft hat woman of rare pride, whom the Bedouin had kidnapped amidst her own happiness, stolen her youth, and made her endure oppression for all of twenty years? How outrageous!