Three Novels of Ancient Egypt Khufu's Wisdom, Rhadopis of Nubia, Thebes at War

by Naguib Mahfouz

  But -when he reached his fifth birthday, life began to reveal to him some of its secrets. At that time Kheny turned eleven years old, and Nafa, twelve. They finished their first level of schooling. Kheny chose to enter the School of Ptah to progress through its various levels, studying religion and morals, science and politics, because the youth - who had a natural leaning toward these subjects - aimed someday for a religious post, or perhaps a judgeship. Nafa, however, did not hesitate before enrolling in Khufu's school of fine arts, for he loved to fill his time with painting and engraving.

  There came the time for Djedef to enter elementary school, and for four hours each day, the world of dreams in Zaya's room with Gamurka would be banished. He spent these hours with children and strangers, learning how to read and write, how to do sums, how to behave, and to love his homeland.

  The first thing that they all heard on the first day was, “You must pay attention completely. Whoever doesn't should know that a boy's ears are above his cheeks - and he listens very closely once they've been smacked.”

  And for the first time in Djedef's life the stick played a part in his instruction, even though he got off to a good start by appearing well prepared to learn. He avidly applied himself to the beautiful language of the hieroglyphs, and quickly excelled in addition and subtraction.

  Thanks to his strong and loveable personality, the teacher of morality and ethics had a profound influence upon him. He had a beguiling smile that fanned infatuation and confidence within the students’ souls. What made Djedef love him even more was that he resembled his father Bisharu in his huge girth, his great jolly jowls, and his gruff, resounding voice. Djedef would lean toward him, utterly captivated, as the teacher said, “Look at what our sage Kagemni says — may his spirit in the heavens be blessed - when he tells us: ‘Do not be stubborn in disputes, or you will earn the punishment of the Lord.’ Also, ‘That lack of courtesy is stupidity and a reproach.’ Or, ‘If you are invited to a banquet, when the best food is offered to you, do not covet it nor undertake to eat it, for people will think ill of you. Let a swallow of water suffice for your thirst, and a bite of bread be enough for your hunger.’ “ Afterward, he would interpret these sayings for the children, then recite proverbs as -well as stories to them. Often he would admonish, “Don't let the infant -within you forget what strenuous chores your mother endures for the sake of your fun. She bears you in her womb for nine months, then she holds you close to her for three years, feeding you -with her milk. Do not annoy her, for the Lord hears her complaints, and answers her pleas.”

  Djedef would lean toward him, utterly rapt, savoring his sayings and his tales, totally under his sway. His primary education lasted seven years, in which he learned the basics of science, and became adept at reading and writing.

  During this period, the fondness between him and his brother Nafa took strong root. He would sit with him while he painted and made drawings, following with his bewitching eyes the meandering lines that he traced, which together made the most beautiful shapes and the most creative works of art. All the while, Nafa possessed his heart with his never-ending laughter, his playful air, and his disarming pranks.

  Kheny, though, had a clear influence over his mind. His budding knowledge continued to transcend basic principles, plumbing theology and the higher sciences at this precocious age. Because he found Djedef's handwriting pleasing, Kheny would dictate to him the notes from his lectures, enlightening his young mind with quotations from the wisdom of Kagemni, insights from the Book of the Dead, and spells from the poetry of Taya. All of this gently penetrated Djedef's immature mind, but with an aura of vague obscurity that awoke him from his innocence into a state of confused and uneasy wonder about life.

  He loved Kheny, despite his gloomy gravitas, and whenever he allowed himself time to play, Djedef and Gamurka would race to his room. Djedef would also write down his lectures for him, or leaf through books adorned with pictures. In his childish way, he contemplated Ptah, Lord of Memphis, and his long staff with a curved end, bearing three signs — for strength, life, and immortality — and the image of Apis, the sacred bull, in which the spirit of Divine Ptah resides. Meanwhile, he would pelt Kheny with questions, which the older boy would answer patiently. Kheny also told to him the great Egyptian myths - it was extraordinary how they held him in thrall! In rapt attention, Djedef would sit squatting on his heels on the ground, leaning toward his brother, -with Gamurka in front of him. His canine friend's face was turned toward him, giving his back to the teacher and his holy fables.

  The carefree stage of childhood came to an end. Djedef lived it to the full, and more, yet his mind had grown beyond his age. He was like a young flowering tree, its branches covered in bloom - yet still no taller than the span of a few hands!

  10

  TIME, SADLY, moves always onward — never turning back! And as it moves, it delivers the destiny decreed for each person, executing its will - whose alteration and exchange are the sole comic diversion easing the boredom of eternity. From it comes all that time decays, and all that is renewed; all that revels in youth, and all that moans with age unto its final demise.

  Time had done what it does to the family of Bisharu.

  The man himself was now fifty. His corpulent body had started to sag, white hair covering his head, as bit by bit, he began to lose his strength, his youth, and his energy. His nerves were on edge as he shouted and yelled, scolding the guards and rebuking the scribes more and more often. Yet he was like the Egyptian bull, which bellows loudly even when not in pain, for his nature had two qualities that it never relinquished, that would not submit to the rule of time. These were his sense of honor and the goodness of his heart. After all, he was the inspector for the construction of Khufu's pyramid: woe be to whoever dared talk to him directly, if he were not of similar title or rank. He talked about himself tirelessly, as much as he could - and nothing so pleased him as the chatter of sycophants and flatterers.

  And if he were summoned to appear before Pharaoh because of his position, his criers spread the news everywhere that his influence reached, so the people of his house, big and small, as well as his friends and subordinates would hear of it. Nor was that enough, for he would tell Nafa, Kheny, and Djedef, “Go broadcast the glorious news among your brothers, and let you little ones compete in telling of the honor that your father has attained by his loyal work and high talent.” Yet he remained the good-hearted man he had always been - loath to cause anyone harm, and whose anger never went beyond the tip of his tongue.

  Zaya had now turned forty, yet the years showed little upon her. She kept her beauty and her freshness, -while becoming a highly respected lady, thanks to her deep-rooted virtues. Indeed, -whoever saw her living in Bisharu's palace would not imagine that she could ever have been the wife of Karda the laborer, and servant of the Lady Ruddjedet. She not only wrapped the memories of the past in the shrouds of forgetfulness, she forbade her memory from ever approaching that history enfolded in time. She wanted only to savor the main reason for her happiness — her motherhood of Djedef. In truth, she loved him as though she had actually borne him for nine months within her, and it was her dearest hope to see him grow to be a noble, contented man.

  At that time, Kheny had passed through the longest phase of his advanced training; only three years remained for him to master his specialty. Since by nature he tended toward study and deep immersion in the secrets of the universe, he chose theology and the path that led to the priesthood. The matter was not entirely of his own choice — for the priesthood was a forbidding discipline whose doors are barred to all but those who merit it. He would first have to complete his final studies, then endure tests and trying duties for several years in one of the temples. But Kheny the student was received sympathetically when he showed both acute intelligence and noble ethics in his scholarly life, as though he inherited from his father only his gruff, raucous voice. Slender and sharp-featured, of a calm demeanor, his traits called more to mind his mother, who wa
s marked with godliness and piety.

  In that, he was the exact opposite of his brother Nafa, who had his father's heavyset figure, full face, and his many-layered character. Gentle and easygoing, to his good fortune his features had emerged finer than Bisharu's thick and coarse ones. Finishing his studies, he was a certified master of painting and drawing, and - with his father's assistance - he rented a small house on the street named after King Sneferu, the most important commercial road in Memphis. This became his studio, where he made and displayed his artistic creations, and composed a sign in immaculate hieroglyphs that he hung outside, which read: “Nafa, son of Bisharu, Graduate of the Khufu School of Fine Arts.” He continued to work and dream, patiently awaiting the crowds of buyers and admirers.

  Nor -was Gamurka spared the effects of time, for as he grew large, his long black coat became short. His face looked tough and strong, and his fangs warned of cruelty and the infliction of pain. His voice turned rough and gravelly; when he barked it echoed so fiercely that it spread terror in the hearts of cats, foxes, and jackals alike, announcing to all that the protector of the inspector's house was on guard. But for all his size and raw vitality, he was gentler than the breeze with his dear companion Djedef, with whom the ties of affection grew closer and closer with each passing day. When the boy called him, he came; when he gave him a command, he obeyed; and if he scolded him, he cowered and quieted down. He and Djedef also exchanged confidential messages by means other than language - for Gamurka would know when Djedef was approaching the house through a hidden sense, and would rush up to meet him when he saw him. The dog grasped what was inside the boy with a rare, amazing power that sometimes even the people closest to him lacked. He knew when he was ready for fun: he would kiss him playfully, jumping up to lay both his forepaws on the youth's loincloth. He also knew his master's moments of fatigue or annoyance: then he would lie silently between Djedef's feet, and content himself with wagging his tail.

  Now the boy had attained the age of twelve. The time had come for him to choose that to which he would devote his life. In truth, just a little while before, he had not thought at all about this dangerous question. Until now, the young man had shown a praiseworthy interest in everything, even deceiving Kheny with his passion for philosophy until the older boy was sure the priesthood was his only possible future. But Nafa - whose love of art ruled his sight — would watch him as he swam, as he ran, and as he danced. He saw his burgeoning body and his trim form, saying to himself when he imagined him dressed in military clothes, “What a soldier he'd make!” Thanks to their mutual affection, Nafa had a great influence on Djedef. As a result, he pointed him in the direction that Zaya most wanted for him. From that day onward, nothing so attracted Zaya during the popular festivals as the sight of soldiers, horsemen, and detachments of the army.

  Bisharu did not concern himself -with -which art or science Djedef would choose to practice in life, for he had not meddled at all in Kheny or Nafa's choices for their own careers. But he was inclined to speculate, so he said, while all of them were sitting in the summer salon, and as he softly rubbed his massive belly, “Djedef- Djedef who only yesterday was still crawling instead of walking. Djedef has worked his little head very hard thinking about an appropriate choice for his career to pursue as a responsible adult. Time has come and gone, so please be compassionate, O Time, with Bisharu, and bear with him until the building of the pyramid is complete, for you will not find an effective replacement for him.”

  Declaring her own wish, Zaya said, “There is no need for a lot of questions. For whoever gazes upon Djedef's handsome face, his towering stature, and his upright bearing would have no doubt that he is looking at an officer of Pharaoh's charioteers.”

  Djedef smiled at his mother, whose speech had affirmed his own passion - recalling the squadron of chariots that he saw cutting through the streets of Memphis one day during the Feast of Ptah. They rode in tightly ordered parallel ranks, the charioteers in the vehicles standing erect, neither leaning to the side nor bobbing up and down, like imposing, immovable obelisks - drawing all eyes ineluctably toward them.

  But Kheny was not satisfied with Zaya's choice, saying in his viscous voice, which resembled that of his father, “No, Mother, Djedef is a priest by temperament.

  “I regret thwarting your desire this time, my brother,” he continued. “How often has he made clear to me his readiness to learn and his inclination toward science and knowledge? How often have I been pressed to answer his many clever and intelligent questions? His preferred place is Ptah's academy, not the college of war. What do you think, Djedef?”

  Djedef was brave and forthright on this occasion, not hesitating to express his opinion. “It upsets me that I must disappoint your hope this time, my brother,” he said, “but the truth is that I wish to be a soldier.”

  Kheny was dumbfounded, but Nafa, laughing aloud, told Djedef, “You chose -well — you look like nothing if not a soldier. This satisfies my own imagination. If you had chosen another discipline in life, you would have been so bitterly disappointed that it would have shaken your trust in yourself.”

  Bisharu shrugged his shoulders disdainfully. “It's all the same to me if you choose the army or the priesthood,” he averred. “In any case, you have several months ahead of you to reflect on the subject. Oh, come on then, my sons! I imagine that none of you will follow in your father's footsteps — that not one of you will take on such a momentous role as I have fulfilled in life.”

  The months went by without any change in Djedef's decision. But during this time, Bisharu faced a severe mental crisis, which his alleged fatherhood of Djedef had set in train. In confusion he asked himself, “Should I continue to claim this fatherhood, or has the time come to proclaim the truth and to sever its bonds? Kheny and Nafa know the facts of the matter, though they absolutely never refer to it, either in private or in public, out of love for the boy, and in order to spare him distress.”

  As Bisharu calculated the impact of this shock on the blameless spirit of the happy youth, his ample torso shuddered. When he recalled Zaya, and what he would endure of her anger and resentment, he flinched in apprehension. Yet he did not think of this out of ill will or indifference to Djedef, but because he believed that the reality would somehow announce itself, if he did not do so first himself. Indeed, the very best thing would be to reveal it now and be done with it, rather than to hold it back until Djedef grew up, thus doubling the torment it would cause him. The good man hesitated, leaving the matter unresolved -and when it was time to reach a decision before enrolling Djedef in the military academy, he confided his secret thoughts to his son Kheny.

  But the matter horrified the young man, who told his father in deep pain and sadness, “Djedef is our brother, and the affection that binds us is stronger even than that between brothers by blood. What harm would it do you, father, if you let things be as they will be, rather than take the dear boy by surprise with this unexpected blow of disgrace and humiliation?”

  The one thing that could cost Bisharu due to his adoptive fatherhood of Djedef was his inheritance. But of the vanities of this world, Bisharu possessed no more than a substantial salary and a grand palace, and his paternity - or lack thereof- of Djedef threatened neither of these. For this reason, he sympathized with Kheny's anger, saying in self-defense, “No, my son, I would never humiliate him; I have called him my son, and I will continue to do so. His name will be inscribed among the students of the military college, ‘Djedef son of Bisharu.’ “

  Then he laughed in his usual way, rubbing his hands as he said, “I've gained a son in the army.”

  Wiping away a tear that ran down his cheek, Kheny rejoined, “No - you've earned the Lord's pleasure, and His pardon.”

  11

  THE MONTH of Tut was nearly done, and -with it, only a few days remained for Djedef to stay in Bisharu's house before his departure to study the ways of war. These days were also the most nervous ones for Zaya. As she considered the two long months that
he would be secluded within the academy - and then the long years that she would only be able to rest her eyes on him for a single day per month — fits of absentminded confusion overwhelmed her. The sight of his beautiful face and the sound of his beloved voice would be denied her, and with them the confidence and well-being that his nearness instilled in her. How brutal life can be! Sorrow enshrouded her long before the reasons for it would come to pass. Enfolding layers of pain oppressed her, like the waves of clouds driven by the winds amidst the fog of the dark and gloomy months of Hatur and Kiyahk.

  When the cock crowed at dawn on the first day of the month of Baba, Zaya awoke and sat on her bed, muddled with sadness. An impassioned sigh was her first greeting to this day from the world of sorrows. Then she abandoned her bed and walked lightly to Djedef's little room to wake him and to dote over him. She entered the chamber on the tips of her toes in order not to disturb him, and Gamurka greeted her while stretching. But her plan was dashed when she found the youth had already awoken without her assistance. Softly he was singing a hymn, “We are the children of Egypt; we are descended from the race of the gods.” The boy had risen by himself, obeying the first call of soldiery. From her heart, she cried out to him, “Djedef!” Slowly becoming aware of her, he then ran toward her like a bird greeting the morning's light, hanging from her neck and lifting his mouth toward her. She kissed him while he kissed her cheeks, and picked him up in her arms and kissed his legs, before carrying him outside saying, “Come and say goodbye to your father.”

  They found Bisharu still deeply asleep, sending up jarring snorts and grunts as he slumbered. She shook him -with her hand until he sat upright, moaning, “Who's there? Who's there? Zaya?”