The Twice Born

by Pauline Gedge

  7

  HE ROSE BEFORE DAWN, washed quickly, picked up his two bags, and left the house on foot, walking briskly through the quiet town towards the docks and Nakht’s barges. The bags were heavy and his arms still ached, but it was good to stride out, to inhale the cool air that began to stir against his skin with the immanence of Ra’s birth, to have purpose, especially as that purpose was escape. It took him a long time to pass his uncle’s flower-choked arouras full of scents so heady that they made him briefly giddy. As he approached the town itself, he began to encounter other early risers bent on their business of the day. Many did not recognize him and greeted him cheerfully, but a few gave him a wide berth and one woman stretched out an arm towards him, index finger and thumb rigidly pointed at his chest, to ward off the evil residing within him. He bowed to her mockingly and went on his way smiling.

  The ramps of the barges still rested on the watersteps of the dock as Huy wove his way between the bales of linen, stacked clay jars and chests, and huge baskets packed with flagons of wine waiting for shipment, and as he came up to the vessels he saw Thothmes emerge from one of the cabins. “Huy!” he called, leaning over the rail. “This way! Father and Nasha are going to share the other barge! Aren’t we lucky? Why didn’t you send to me last night for a litter this morning? You look hot!”

  Gratefully, Huy relinquished his bags to the sailor who had risen from his post at the foot of the ramp and ran up onto the deck.

  Thothmes hugged him. “We weren’t sure you’d come,” he said reproachfully. “Father started pacing the dock not long ago. A bad sign.”

  Glancing behind him, Huy indeed saw the Governor coming towards the ramp. Seeing Huy, he flung up his hands with a rueful smile and veered towards the other barge. Huy’s eyes followed him to where Nasha, resplendent in red linen and thin gold bracelets, was trying to attract his attention. She was eating what looked like a hunk of white cheese and waving to him with the other hennaed hand.

  The order to cast off and run in the ramps was given, the helmsmen scrambled to their positions, the sailors manned the oars, and the barges began to edge away from the dock. Lifting his face to the first rays of a reborn Ra, Huy closed his eyes, forcibly thrusting his last night at home below the level of his consciousness. The rank odour of the water, the tang of the ropes, the faintly sweetish scent of the cedar boards beneath his sandalled feet, wrapped him in the strong arms of the moment, a reality more powerful than the phantoms that had tormented him, and he turned to Thothmes with a grin. “I’m starving. Is there anything edible aboard this raft?”

  Nakht had his men tie up early that evening, and by the time Ra had sunk into Nut’s waiting mouth the linen tents were billowing gently in the evening breeze and the smell of fish frying over a merry fire enveloped the four travellers. Nakht was sitting on a stool, wine in hand, Nasha beside him, Thothmes and Huy cross-legged in the sand at his feet. Huy watched the servants come and go in a mood of utter contentment. He sipped his wine, aware of the flutter of Nakht’s kilt against his naked back, Nasha’s high voice chattering on about some inconsequential thing, of his own sense of complete security under the protection of this kindly family. No matter what happens to me, I will always be able to retreat to Nakht’s house and be safe. “Was your business with my sepat’s governor concluded successfully, Lord?” he asked.

  Nakht smiled down at him. “Certainly. As you must know, he controls the flow of natron from the great depression west of your town. I had acquired the King’s permission to negotiate for an increase of natron to the sepat under my care. He is a most obliging man.”

  “The King?”

  Nakht chuckled. “No, your governor. The King can also be obliging when he wishes, but as he ages he becomes somewhat, shall we say, less cooperative?”

  “Father!” Thothmes broke in indignantly. “You speak of our god! He is the perfect example of justice and wisdom!”

  “Oh, don’t start extolling your idol’s virtues, Thothmes, or we shall never get to the fish,” Nasha said rudely. “My stomach is flogging my spine with hunger.”

  By the time they had finished the meal, full dark had fallen, but they sat on, drinking and talking easily by the light of the dying fire. Huy thought of the other occasions when he and Ker had stopped very close to this spot on their way to Iunu, but it seemed to him that some other young man, a twin perhaps, had taken his place then, had lived with Hapu and Itu, gone to school, stood beside Ker on a similar barge, done all the things he had been told he had done, while he himself, the real Huy, had watched this other self invisibly from some perpetually changeless realm. The sense of dislocation was uncomfortable. He was unable to will it away, and he was glad when Nasha’s copious yawn brought the evening to an end.

  He and Thothmes shared a tent, and by the time they had unfolded their cots, undressed, and pulled their blankets up over tired bodies, Huy’s feeling of being his own double had vanished. The two friends spoke little. Fresh river air and good food had tired them and it was not long before Thothmes fell asleep. For a while Huy lay on his back, eyes on the shadows lurking in the cone of the tent above him, thinking of Anuket, of how his cell would seem to him now, and whether his classmates would welcome him or if they had succumbed to rumour and would treat him with suspicion. He was less lonely with Thothmes, Nasha, and Nakht than he had been with his own family, yet he found himself suddenly longing to see Henenu the Rekhet, in whose company there would be no dislocations or misunderstandings. With her he could be himself.

  The sight of Iunu’s towers and pylons gleaming in the whiteness of noon was as thrilling to him as though he had never seen the city before. Now he could name every landmark: the pink granite obelisk of Osiris Senwosret the Third rearing above the double brick walls of the old quarter, a jumbled glimpse of the tombs of the High Priests to the southeast, the two much-newer stelae the present Horus had erected, the purposeful bustle above the great stretch of watersteps. But I am somehow apart from it all, he thought as Nakht’s barges nudged their moorings. I have somehow lost the ability to be consumed by any human activity, to enter into any experience so deeply that I may temporarily forget the inner presence of my soul. I drank three mugs of wine last night. The others became very merry, but I merely stood apart like an unseen guest and watched them. No amount of wine will ever be able to render me drunk, I know it. He sighed. I have also lost the ability to be shocked or surprised by the transformings taking place within me, his thoughts ran on. I am defenceless against minute shifts of perception and ominous discoveries, and therefore must accept them.

  “Huy, wake up!” Thothmes said loudly in his ear. “The ramps are out and we must take litters to the temple. These barges are too big for the canal. Whatever are you dreaming about?”

  Across from them the litter-bearers were already waiting. Huy saw his bags at the feet of one of the men, and Nakht and Nasha climbing into one of the litters. He hurried ashore to speak to them. “Thank you, Governor, for your kindness,” he said, bending to take the hand offered to him. “I owe you and Thothmes a great deal.”

  “You owe me also,” Nasha retorted, leaning over her father, “for adding my nagging female voice to Thothmes’ pleading. Otherwise you would be making this journey without our fascinating company. I will see you on the next feast day, Huy.”

  He nodded. “You are an irresistible force, Nasha. Greet Anuket for me. And stay away from the Street of the Basket Sellers.” He had not meant to say that; the words had been blurted out of him without the permission of his mind.

  Nasha’s expression darkened. “It wasn’t a silly joke, was it, Huy?” she murmured. “I will do as you say providing you explain yourself to me fully next time you come to visit us.”

  Nakht was looking mystified as well as annoyed. “I have no time for the secret games of the young,” he said testily. “Nasha, Huy, say your farewells and let us go home. Thothmes, continue to make sure that the reports on your progress are all good.” He signalled to the bearers.


  “I promise, Nasha,” Huy called as the litter was raised.

  “Oh, Huy!” Thothmes said in exasperation as they climbed onto their cushions. “Why did you remind her? She’d forgotten all about it!”

  “I couldn’t seem to help myself,” Huy told him. “Besides, you won’t be at home very often to remind her yourself, will you?”

  Thothmes did not reply.

  They got out where the river met the temple canal. Huy hoisted his bags and they walked along its verge together. Nothing has changed, Huy thought, his gaze rising to the mighty facade of Ra’s home. The sun still dazzles on the stone of the concourse, the frontal pillars still pierce the sky, the priests still pace to and fro in their white sheaths. It is as beautiful and peaceful as ever. But when he came to the place where the canal opened out into the lake, he veered away from the water and would not look into it. I died there, he told himself. You hear me, Methen? I take your advice. I do not forget.

  As though he had picked up Huy’s silent words, Thothmes paused. “I don’t like to remember it either,” he said quietly, “but I can’t make the memory fade. I dream about it sometimes. Perhaps now that you are back we will be able to truly put that day behind us.”

  “Perhaps. If I don’t talk about what I have become.”

  “Well, no one will hear it from me,” Thothmes said stoutly. He slipped his arm through Huy’s as they crossed the square and took the left-hand path.

  It was the hour of the sleep, nevertheless a few students were sitting outside their cells in the grass, and before long Huy was recognized. By the time he and Thothmes arrived at their own cell, a crowd of noisy young men had surrounded them and Huy had answered their relieved questions. It seemed, to his surprise, that he had been missed, that his fellows had been concerned for his welfare and were glad to have him back. “Your hair is getting long, Huy,” one of them remarked, tugging at it gently. “Will Pabast shave you again? Will you sport your scar with your usual impudence? I’d like to see it.” Obediently Huy bent his head and they crowded around him, parting his thick hair and exclaiming in sympathy at the raised, jagged welt.

  “Is Sennefer still here?” Huy asked. It had not occurred to him until now that his executioner might even now be watching him from some shaded corner of the courtyard.

  “Oh, no!” another boy said. “He was expelled the day after he attacked you with the throwing stick. The Overseer whipped him first in front of all of us. Remember when you were flogged for sneaking around the priests’ quarters? That was nothing to the punishment Sennefer got. Twenty lashes with the willow switch, and he was bawling after the first five. We heard that he’s in school at Khmun. Probably making his classmates’ lives miserable.”

  Someone was tugging insistently at Huy’s kilt. Turning, he found himself looking down into the face of Samentuser. The child had grown and thinned, but it was his eyes that struck Huy first. They met his own clearly and steadily. “The Governor Nakht has forbidden Sennefer to ever touch a throwing stick again, even though he is a noble,” Samentuser said haltingly. “The Governor had to petition the King himself for such a dire prohibition, and the King granted the request. Huy, I am sorry for my unacceptable behaviour under your guidance. I ask your forgiveness.” He held out both hands, palms up, in the universal gesture of respect or pleading, and Huy took them at once.

  “You were indeed a spoiled and whining nuisance,” he laughed, “but I see that school is working its magic on you. Of course I forgive you, little worm. I …”

  Samentuser’s fingers had grown steadily hotter. Huy could feel the bones under skin from which the healthy fat seemed to have been burned away. The boy’s cheekbones stood out like humps of stone. His eyes were red. He was struggling to breathe, the air from his cracked lips stank of fever. “I’m dying, aren’t I, Mother?” he gasped. “Aren’t I?”

  Carefully Huy forced the smile to remain on his face. Slowly he released Samentuser’s hands. It took every ounce of control not to wipe his own on his linen. “I am only relieved that you are well past the need for a guide and will not be tempted to try my patience,” he managed to finish. The boy beamed at him then glanced shyly around at the group. Huy felt as though he was going to faint. Weakness flooded him and he knew he would not be able to speak again. He was saved from doing so by a sudden flurry at the rear of the little crowd. It parted to reveal the majestic figure of Harmose.

  “You are all late for your afternoon lessons,” he said coolly. “Swimming, wrestling, target practice—your instructors cannot wait to punish you. Be off! And you, Samentuser, are not even in your own courtyard. Run away before I fetch my switch.” The boys scattered. Thothmes had moved surreptitiously to support Huy, who was leaning back against him while a portion of strength returned. “So you are the cause of this unseemly disturbance,” the Overseer said, eyebrows raised. “Welcome back, Huy. It is good to see you. I trust you are fully recovered from your ordeal. I received your letter requesting permission to return, but no word has come from your uncle. Your position is therefore not confirmed, but in the meantime you may resume your lessons.” He gave Huy a critical stare. “I must say you are pale. You are excused afternoon lessons. Swimming, wasn’t it? Unpack your bags instead. I will inform the High Priest.” Huy bowed and Harmose strode away.

  “It happened again, didn’t it?” Thothmes said as they entered the cell and Huy collapsed onto the unmade cot. “With Samentuser? What is his fate, Huy?”

  “I don’t believe that I may tell you anyone’s fate but your own,” Huy murmured. “Thothmes, did you bring any of your father’s wine with you? I would like a mouthful or two.”

  Rooting about in his satchel, Thothmes produced a small flagon and a cup. “I’ll make up your cot for you while you drink it,” he offered, but Huy shook his head.

  “I’m feeling better already. Let me drink and then I’ll attend to my chores. Gods, it’s good to be back here with you!”

  The evening meal was served in the courtyard as usual. Huy and Thothmes fetched their food from the long table, joined in the prayer of thanks to Ra led by one of the priests, and settled down with their backs against the warmth of their cell wall. Several boys wandered over to perch in the grass beside them, dipping their sesame bread into the fragrant garlic and onion soup and bringing Huy up to date on everything he had missed. “We are still ploughing through the Wisdom of Amenemopet,” one of them grimaced. “We have just finished the eighth stanza. ‘Let your integrity be felt in the vitals of the people,’ and so on. But an architect comes twice every week to teach us the rudiments of his craft. I find that very interesting. I might change my mind about becoming a scribe and take architecture instead. My father could get me taken on as an apprentice somewhere when I leave this place.”

  “I don’t like it so much,” Thothmes said. “All those planes and angles and calculations about the stresses of various kinds of stone. I’ll be following my father as governor of Iunu. A course in recognizing a good architect would be more useful to me than the details of his profession. What about you, Huy?”

  Huy had been pushing the dried figs and dates about on his plate. “I don’t even know yet if I’ll be allowed to stay in school, so I try not to think about my future,” he said slowly. “My greatest hope is to be a good scribe, but I may end up cutting flowers for my uncle. I won’t feel safe until I hear from the Overseer.”

  “You should be allowed free schooling after what happened to you!” one of the boys said indignantly. “Or Sennefer’s father should be made to shoulder the responsibility. I heard our teacher telling the Overseer that such a dreadful thing has never happened before in the whole history of this school!”

  Thothmes sniffed. “Just try squeezing anything out of that man. He may be governor of the Nart-Pehu sepat, but if he had his way he would be administering the Uas sepat, where the King lives. My father says that he is even jealous of the Vizier and fancies himself greater than the High Priest of Amun himself. He is not a happy man.”
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  “How can he be, with a son like Sennefer?” someone else put in, and they all laughed.

  Huy got up. “I’m looking forward to class tomorrow, but tonight I’m tired. I think I’ll spend the rest of the evening on my cot. It’s very good to see you all again.” He delivered his empty dishes to the servant behind the table, and as he was turning away Pabast hurried up to him.

  “I heard that you were back,” he said peremptorily. “I will come early in the morning to inspect your injury and see how I may shave it without pain.”

  Huy’s smile grew as he looked into the man’s self-important face. “I am now a senior here, and as such I may wear my hair in any way I want. I’ve decided to let it grow, Pabast. You need not worry, I will keep it clean and oil it often. I appreciate your concern and I thank you for your previous services to me.”

  “You may indeed grow it, but not to the length of some crazy man living in the desert,” Pabast responded primly, and Huy laughed.

  “Trust you to have the last word! You may report me to the Overseer the moment you see me running around with my hair flying about my buttocks!” Pabast tutted and made a show of clattering the soiled dishes on the table. Huy walked back to his cell.

  He had unpacked his goods and spread his linen on the cot. Khenti-kheti stood in his usual place on the table. Ishat’s scarab rested at the feet of the god, glinting faintly in the dying light of the day. Prostrating himself, Huy stood, and after the formal prayers to the totem of his town he begged Khenti-kheti to open a way for him to stay in school, to keep the ominous gift of the other gods quiescent within him, to prosper his lessons and take care of those he loved.

  He was just finishing when Thothmes came in, his youth lock tousled, his skin luminous with beads of water. “Do you think you’ll have the courage to continue with your swimming lessons, Huy?” he asked, rifling through his chest and bringing out a square of linen. He began to dry himself vigorously. “Will you at least try? And what about going into the papyrus swamps? Nasha will want to take us out duck hunting as soon as possible.”