Three Novels of Ancient Egypt

by Naguib Mahfouz

  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.

  “A bit of cruelty, yes — but not cruelty in all things,” Sennefer continued. “You'll see everything for yourself in due course. Yet there hardly comes a day when a number of punishments aren't issued, some against the servants, some against the soldiers, some for the lower ranks, and perhaps some for the officers. And as time goes by, he only gets nastier — more boastful and crude, in fact.”

  “Usually, a man's nature softens as the years advance — this is what Kagemni says.”

  Sennefer laughed loudly as he said, “ ‘It is not becoming for an officer to quote the sayings of the wise.’ That is what His Highness says! His Highness's life deviates from Kagemni's description. Why? Because he's forty years old. A crown prince who's forty — think of it!”

  The young man looked at him quizzically, as Sennefer went on talking in a low voice. “One wants heirs apparent to come to power young, for if the Fates are awful to them, then they are awful to everyone else!” he opined.

  “Isn't His Highness married?”

  “And he has both boys and girls,” answered Sennefer.

  “Then the throne is secure for his progeny.”

  “This does nothing to relieve his chagrin… it's not what the prince fears.”

  “What does he fear, then? His brothers uphold the laws of the kingdom honestly.”

  “There's no doubt about that,” said Sennefer. “Perhaps they lack ambition because their mothers are just concubines in the harem — and Her Majesty the Queen gave birth only to the crown prince and his sister, Meresankh. The throne rightfully belongs to those two before anyone else. But what worries the prince is… the vigorous health of His Majesty the King!”

  “Pharaoh is idolized by all Egypt,” said Djedef.

  “There's no argument there,” the officer said. “But I imagine that I can see the lusts lodged deep in people's souls that the conscience does not allow to emerge. God forbid that a traitor be found in Egypt. No, brother… and now, what's your opinion of the Maryut wine? I'm Theban, but I'm not prejudiced.”

  “What you served me was fine,” Djedef replied.

  This was enough chatter for Sennefer, who went off to sleep. But Djedef's cheek never touched his pillow, because his friend's mention of Meresankh had stirred his anguish and his burning love, just as food thrown on the water's surface excites the fish's hunger. Restive and disturbed, he spent the long, black night exchanging secrets with his sorrowing heart.

  20

  Within the heir apparent's palace, Djedef felt deep inside that he was close to an obscure secret. No doubt, he dwelt on the horizon — where it — would arise — and, inevitably, one of its blazing rays would someday illuminate it. Meanwhile, he waited in hope, in fear, and in rapture.

  One late afternoon, he patrolled the palace meadows that overlooked the Nile, as the sun of the month of Hatur poured forth a joyous light recalling the days of his youthful prime and splendor. Making his rounds, he saw a royal ship lying in anchor at the garden's staircase — and none of the chamberlains were there to greet it. So he hurried — as duty obliged — to receive the honored messenger, and stood facing the ship like a striking statue.

  He saw a divine, glorious vision hidden in the robe of a king's daughter. With pharaonic grandeur and ethereal grace, she came down from the ship to ascend the staircase. So ethereal was she, in fact, it seemed as though her weight was pulled upward, not downward. Djedef was looking at Her Royal Highness Princess Meresankh!

  He drew out his long sword and gave a military salute, as the princess passed by him like a ravishing dream. And just as quickly, she departed the twisting paths of the garden.

  How could this not be her?

  Sight can be deceived, and so can hearing, but the heart never is — and if this wasn't her, then his heart would not beat so intensely that it was almost torn to pieces. And why else would it leave him in ecstasy like a staggering drunk? Yet her mind seemed neither to sense or to recall him — and hadn't something happened between them that would merit remembrance? Could she so quickly forget so strange an encounter? Or could she be just snobbishly pretending not to know him?

  And what good would it do him, — whether she remembered him or not? What is the difference between the princess being the girl in the picture, or someone else — who resembles her? For his heart beats so hard only for the love of this lovely painting, and shall continue to do so, whether she resides in the body of the princess from the Great House of Pharaoh, or in that of the peasant girl from the villages around Memphis. And he shall remain in despair of her in either case, for there is no alternative to love — just as there is none to its denial.

  He set his gaze toward the trees, and saw the birds drawn by their branches, continually warbling in song, their appearance announcing their joy from passionate love and affection. He felt a sentiment for them that he had not known before. He envied that they could cavort without cost, that they could love witho
ut torment, and that their natures transcended all doubts and illusions. He looked at his own colored uniform, his cocky headdress, and his sword, and felt insignificant: he had an urge to laugh at himself with snickering bitterness.

  He had mastered archery and horseback riding, and excelled in hand-to-hand combat, achieving all that to which a youth aspires — yet he knew not how to make himself happy! Nafa was more fortunate because he had married Mana of the long, graceful neck and honey-colored eyes. And Kheny would wed in quiet simplicity, because he views marriage as a religious obligation. As for Djedef, he had to keep hidden within his breast a secret, despairing love, which withered his heart the way that the denial of Nile water and sun withers the leafy tree.

  He remained rooted where he stood, longing to see her yet another time. To him, this visit seemed clearly unofficial, for had it been known by all in the palace, they would have received her in a manner appropriate to her station in the royal family. Therefore it was certainly possible that she would return to the boat by herself. His thinking turned out to be correct, for the princess reappeared alone after His Royal Highness had bid her goodbye at the palace entrance.

  Djedef was at his place by the garden's staircase, in attendant readiness, until — when she passed by in front of him — he drew out his sword in salute. Suddenly Meresankh stopped and turned toward him — with highborn hauteur, inquiring bitingly, “Do you know your duties, Officer?”

  “Yes, Your Highness,” he blurted, shaken as though by an earthquake.

  “Do your duties include kidnapping maidens other than in time of war?”

  As embarrassment seized him, she continued staring cruelly at him for a moment, then said, “Is it a soldier's duty to act treacherously?”

  Unable to bear the pain, he told her, “O my mistress, the brave soldier never behaves treacherously.”

  At this, she asked him mockingly, “Then what would you say to one who skulks in waiting behind the trees for virtuous maidens, and paints them on the sly?”

  Then her tone changed. “You should know that I want that picture,” she demanded sternly.

  Djedef obeyed, as he was accustomed to obey. He put his hand into his breast, pulling the painting out of its deep hiding place, and presented it to the princess.

  She had not been expecting this. Surprise flashed on her face, in spite of her pride — but she soon regained her grip on herself as she stretched forth her soft-skinned hand and snatched the image from him.

  Then she processed back to her ship, enveloped in majesty and grandeur.

  21

  Djedef's life in the prince's palace — went on-with nothing novel on the horizon, until one day he discovered a new source of pain.

  On that day, His Highness Prince Khafra went out in his most exalted ceremonial uniform, preceded by a squadron of guards, among them Djedef's friend Sennefer. The prince returned toward the evening, and Sennefer came back to his chamber at the same time that Djedef did after fulfilling his duty, both as a guard and as inspector of the guards. Of course, it would have been natural to ask his friend what had prompted the prince to go out in a manner reserved usually for the great feasts. But he knew from experience that Sennefer was the sort who could not keep a secret. And in fact, Sennefer had only relaxed briefly when he said, while pulling on his nightshirt, “Do you know where we went today?”

  “No,” said Djedef, calmly.

  “His Highness Prince Ipuwer, governor of Arsina Nome,” Sennefer said, weightily, “went to Memphis today — where he was received by the heir apparent!”

  “Isn't His Highness the son of His Majesty the King's maternal uncle?”

  “Yes,” answered Sennefer, “and it is said that His Highness came bearing a report on the tribes of Sinai — there have been many more incidents lately involving them in the lands of the Eastern Delta.”

  “Then His Highness was a herald of war?”

  “True enough, Djedef,” replied Sennefer. “And what I've learned is that for a long time, the crown prince has leaned toward taming the tribes of Sinai, and Commander Arbu supports his view. Yet Pharaoh preferred to be patient until the country's forces were ready, after the huge effort expended in construction, especially in building the king's pyramid. After waiting for a time, the prince asked for the fulfillment of what his father had promised. But it's said that His Majesty the King is preoccupied these days in — writing his great book, — which he wants to make the greatest guide in both religious and worldly affairs for the Egyptians. So, as the king didn't seem prepared to think seriously about the question of — war, Prince Khafra turned to his relative Prince Ipuwer. He agreed that he would meet — with him himself to advise the king on the facts of the tribes’ insolence and their disdain for the government's authority, and of the consequences should this situation continue. Therefore, it seems likely that with the prince's coming a division of the army will be marching northeast in the very near future.”

  Silence reigned for a moment, then Sennefer, driven by his love of chatter, resumed, “His Majesty the King threw a banquet for the prince, attended by all the members of the royal family. At their head were Pharaoh and the princesses.”

  Djedef's heart pounded at the mention of the princesses — and especially of the enchanting princess with all her magnificent beauty and pride. He sighed, without realizing that the sound had attracted Sennefer's ears. The young man looked at him in reproach and said, “By the truth of Ptah, you aren't paying attention when I speak!”

  Dismayed, Djedef said, “How can you claim that?”

  “Because you sighed like one who is unable to think while his mind has gone off to his sweetheart.”

  The pounding of Djedef's heart worsened. He tried to speak, but Sennefer did not let him, as, laughing loudly, he said with interest, “Who is she? Come on, who is she, Djedef? Ah… you're giving me a look of denial. I won't press you now, because I will know her one day, when she's the mother of your children. What memories! Do you know, O Djedef, that I sighed the same way in this same room two years ago, and spent nights deluding myself with fantasies and dreams? And the next year she became my dear wife — today she is the mother of my son, Fana. What a room this is, so charged with passion! But why don't you tell me who she is?”

  Djedef replied, with grief-edged sharpness, “You're deluded, Sennefer!”

  “Deluded, am I? Youth, good looks, and strength — and already all dull and dried up? Impossible.”

  “Sennefer — it's true.”

  “As you wish, O Djedef — I — won't insist that you answer the question. But, — while — we're on the subject of romance, I'll tell you that I heard — whispers circulating in the corridors of Pharaoh's palace, — which hint at other reasons for Prince Ipuwer's visit than the — war I mentioned.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They say that the prince will be given a chance to see the youngest of the princesses up close — and she is of proverbial beauty. Perhaps there the people of Egypt will soon hear the news of the engagement of Prince Ipuwer to Princess Meresankh.”

  This time Djedef felt extremely weak, but he took control of himself, stifled his emotions, and met the blow with stunning forbearance. His face gave nothing away of the battle raging within him, securing him from the danger of his friend's sharp eyes and his painful, gossipy tongue. He was wary of commenting at all on what Sennefer had said, or to ask him for more details or clarifications, for fear that he would be given away by the tone of his voice. So he maintained a heavy, terror-stricken silence, like a huge mountain weighing over the mouth of a volcano.

  Sennefer, unaware of what was happening to his companion, threw himself down on his bed. Yawning, he continued his gossip. “Princess Meresankh is a great beauty,” he ventured. “Have you ever seen her? She's the loveliest of the princesses. And, like her brother the crown prince, she's terrifically arrogant, with a will of iron. They say Pharaoh loves her like no one else. The price for her looks will be very high — no doubt about th
at. Beauty certainly turns men's heads….”

  Sennefer yawned again, then closed his eyes. Djedef stared at him in the feeble lamplight with eyes clouded by misery. When he was sure that Sennefer had surrendered to sleep, he moaned to himself in torment. Shunning his bed and feeling an intense unrest, he grew weary, and tiptoed out of the room. The air was moist, — with a chilling breeze, and the night black as pitch. In the darkness, the date palms looked like slumbering ghosts, or souls whose tortures stretched through eternity.

  22

  After a few days, all in the palace knew that His Highness the Crown Prince had invited Prince Ipuwer, along — with Her Highness Princess Meresankh, plus various other princes and companions, on a hunt in the Eastern Desert.

  On the morning of the appointed day came Princess Meresankh. Her face was a nimbus of splendor, lighting up hearts and flooding them with joy. Just behind her came His Highness Ipuwer accompanied by his retinue. Thirty-five years old and powerfully built, his whole appearance proclaimed his nobility, honor, and courage.

  The chief chamberlain himself had overseen the preparations for the hunting party, which he had provisioned with all necessary water, stores, weapons, and netting. The chief of the guard picked a hundred soldiers from his force to escort the expedition, putting ten officers — among them Djedef — in command over them. Aside from all these there were also the servants, aides, and hunters. Then, at the heir apparent's arrival in the palace garden, the great caravan began to move. At its head was a troop of horsemen well acquainted with the route for the hunt, while behind them came His Pharaonic Highness Prince Khafra, the alluring Princess Meresankh at his right, Prince Ipuwer at his left. Surrounding them was a cluster of nobles and princes. Following this magnificent defile came a wagon bearing water, and another holding the stores, cooking utensils, and tents, while trailing them came the third, fourth, and fifth wagons, carrying the hunting tackle, bows, and arrows. All of them proceeded between two lines of mounted horsemen, as the rest of the chariots from the guard troop, headed by its officers, Djedef among them, brought up the rear. The caravan ambled eastward, leaving behind the crowded city and the sacred Nile. As it headed into the desert, nothing seemed to surround them but the daunting horizon. JNo matter how long one marched, its expanse — stretching ever onward — seemed to retreat further, like one's shadow, — with each step taken.