Three Novels of Ancient Egypt Khufu's Wisdom by Naguib Mahfouz
Again, Djedef laughed. “Do you think that by your philosophizing you can convince me that you're a man?”
Nafa fixed him with a sharp stare. “Do you still need proof?” he replied. “Well, then, you should know — I'm going to be married.”
“Is what you say true?” Djedef asked, the incredulity plain on his face.
Nafa was practically drowning in laughter -when he answered, “Has it reached the point where you would deny that I should get married?”
“Certainly not, Nafa,” said Djedef, “but I remember how you made Father mad at you, by your abstention from marriage.”
His face grown serious, Nafa placed his hand over his heart. “I fell in love, Djedef,” he said. “I fell in love — very suddenly.”
Djedef- his feelings now gathered in concentrated awareness - asked in concern, “Suddenly?”
“Yes, I was like the bird hovering safely in the sky until he feels an arrow dive into his heart — and he falls.”
“When did this happen, and where?”
“Djedef, when one talks about love, you don't ask about the time and the place!”
“Who is she?”
He said with reverence, as though intoning the name of Isis, “Mana, daughter of Kamadi in the Office of the Treasury.”
“And what will you do?”
“I will marry her.”
Djedef wondered, in a dreamy voice, “Is this how things change?”
“And even faster than that,” said Nafa. ‘An arrow and its victim - and what is the bird to do?”
Truly, love is an awesome thing. Djedef knew art, the teachings of the sages, and the sword. As for love, this was a new mystery indeed. And how could it not be a mystery, if it could do in one instant what Bisharu and he were unable to do in years! Meanwhile, he sensed his own passion flaring and his spirit wandering in far distant valleys.
“A happy Fate has willed that I be successful in my life as an artist, and Lord Fani invited me to decorate his reception hall. Some of my pictures were valued at ten pieces of gold - though I refuse to sell them. Look at this little one!”
Puzzled, Djedef turned toward where Nafa was pointing, and saw the miniature image of a peasant girl on the banks of the Nile, the horizons of evening tinged with the hues of sunset. As though awakened by the beauty of this picture that drew him from the valleys of his dreams, he approached it slowly, until he came to -within an arm's length of it. Nafa saw his amazement and could not have been more pleased.
“Do you not see it as a picture rich in both color and shadow? Look at the Nile, and the horizons!” he exclaimed.
Djedef answered in an otherworldly voice, “Just ask me to look at the peasant girl!”
Contemplating her picture, Nafa said, “The brush has immortalized the flow of the Nile, which has such dignity.”
But Djedef interjected, without paying any attention to what the artist was saying, “By the gods… such a soft, supple body, as slender and upright as a lance!”
“Look at the fields, and at the bent-over crops, whose direction shows…” said Nafa.
As though he didn't hear his brother at all, Djedef muttered: “How gorgeous this bronze face is, like the moon!”
“… that the wind was blowing from the south!” continued Nafa.
“How beautiful these two dark eyes - they have such a divine expression!”
“Joy isn't all there is in this picture. Notice also the sunset -only the gods know how much effort I put into drawing and tinting it,” said Nafa.
Djedef looked at him with a mad enthusiasm. “She's alive, O Nafa — I can almost hear her murmuring. How can you live with her under one roof?”
Nafa rubbed his hands happily. “For her sake, I turned down ten pieces of pure gold,” he said.
“This painting will never be sold.”
“And why is that?” asked Nafa.
“This picture is mine, even if I should pay for it with my life!”
Nafa said, laughing, “O age seventeen! You're like a blazing fire, a leaping flame. You give life and womanly qualities to stones, colors, and water. You passionately adore illusions and imaginings, and turn dreams into actualities… and you've brought us all the tortures of hell!”
The boy blushed, and fell silent. Nafa took pity on his exasperation, and said, “I am at your command, O Soldier.”
“You must never part with this picture, O Nafa,” said Djedef imploringly.
Nafa strode over to the picture, and lifting it from its place, presented it to his brother, saying, “Dear Djedef, she's yours.”
Djedef held it gently with his hands, as though he were clasping his own heart, then said like one obliged to be grateful, “Thank you, Nafa!”
Nafa sat down contented. As for Djedef, he stuck to his place without budging, absorbed in the face of the divine peasant girl.
At length he said, “How does the creative imagination captivate one so?”
“She's not a creature of imagination,” said Nafa, calmly.
The youth's heart quaked as he asked with desire, “Do you mean that the possessor of this form moves among the living?”
“Yes,” Nafa answered.
“Is… is she like your image of her?”
“She is even more beautiful, perhaps.”
“Nafa!” shouted Djedef.
The artist grinned, as the enraptured young man interrogated him, “Do you know her?”
“I have seen her at times on the banks of the Nile,” he replied.
“Where?”
“North of Memphis,” said Nafa.
“Does she always go there?”
“She used to go in the late afternoon with her sisters, and they would sit down and play and then disappear with the setting sun. I used to take my place hidden behind a sycamore fig tree — I could hardly wait for them to arrive!”
“Are they still going there?” asked Djedef.
“I don't know,” replied Nafa. “I stopped following their movements when I had completed my picture.”
Djedef looked at him doubtfully. “How could you?” he said.
“This is a beauty that I worship, but which I do not love.”
Djedef, paying no attention to what Nafa was saying, asked him, “In what place did you see her?”
“North of the Temple of Apis.”
“Do you think that she still goes there?” Djedef queried.
“And what, O Officer, prompts your question?”
A look of confusion flashed in Djedef's eyes, and Nafa asked him, “Could Fate have it that these two brothers are wounded by the arrow of love in the same week?”
Djedef frowned as he returned to regarding the picture thoughtfully.
“Don't forget that she's a peasant girl,” said Nafa.
“Rather, she's a ravishing goddess,” Djedef muttered back.
“Ah, Djedef, I was struck by the arrow and destroyed in the palace of Kamadi,” said Nafa, laughing, “but I fear that you may be struck in a broken-down hut!”
16
THE DAY bore the seal of dreams, as around midafternoon, Djedef — the enchanting portrait next to his breast — -went to the bank of the Nile, rented a boat, and headed north. He was not truly aware of what he was doing, nor could he stop himself from doing it. Simply put, he had fallen under a spell and could submit only to its commands, and hear only its call. He set off in pursuit of his unknown objective driven by an all-conquering passion that he could not resist. This magic had seized a man for whom death held no terror, who had no regard for danger. Naturally, then, he struck out boldly for his goal, for it was not his custom to shrink back — and whatever would be, would be.
The boat made its way, cutting through the waters, propelled by the current and the youthful strength of his arms. All the while, Djedef kept his eyes fixed on the river's edge, searching for the object of his persistent quest. And what should he see first but the mansions of the wealthy people of Memphis, their marble staircases descending to the banks of
Djedef leapt out of the boat and strode up to within an arm's length of them, addressing the one he had come for with a tender voice, “May the Lord grant you a good evening, O lovely peasant girl!”
She glared at him with pride and scorn as she said in a voice more melodious than those of the other birds surrounding her, “What do you want from us, sir? Just keep going on your way!”
He looked at her reprovingly. “You don't wish to greet me?” he asked.
Furiously she turned her head — crowned with hair black as night — away from him, while the group of women called out to him, “Keep going on your way, young man. We don't speak to those we do not know!”
“Do you see it as the custom in this fine country that raised you to greet a stranger so harshly?” Djedef replied.
One of them said sharply, “What shows upon your face is infatuation, not unfamiliarity!”
“How cruelly you are treating me!”
“If you truly -were a stranger, this is not a place -where strangers would come. Return south to Memphis, or go north, if you wish, and say goodbye to us in peace - for we do not speak to anyone -with -whom -we are not acquainted!”
Djedef shrugged his shoulders dismissively and said, pointing at the gorgeous peasant girl, “My mistress knows me.”
They were again seized by disbelief and looked at the lovely girl, whom they found enraged. “That is a slanderous lie!” they heard her say to him.
“Never, by the Lord's truth. I have known you for a long time, but I hadn't resolved to find you until my patience betrayed me, and I could no longer bear to miss you so.”
“How can you claim that, when I have never laid eyes on you before this moment?”
“And she doesn't want to see you after this moment, either,” one of her companions quipped.
Bitterly, another complained, “There's nothing uglier than when soldiers attack girls!”
But he paid them no heed. Then he said to the one from whose face he could not turn his eyes away, “The more I see you, the more my soul is filled with you.”
“Liar … you're shameless.”
“Far be it from me that I should lie - but I bear your cruel speech with love, out of respect for the lovely mouth that utters it.”
“No - you're just a liar who has been rejected, looking for a crooked way in!”
“I said, far be it from me that I should lie - and here's proof.”
As he spoke, he reached his hand into his breast and pulled out the picture of her face, then told her, “Would I be able to paint this picture without filling my eyes with your splendor?”
The girl glanced at the picture - and was unable to suppress a sigh of disbelief, anger, and fear. Her companions were also indignant. One of them attacked him without warning, wanting to snatch it away from him, but he put up his arm with lightning speed, grinning triumphantly. “Do you see how you occupy my imagination and my soul?” he said.
“This is vileness and depravity,” she said, seething with fury.
“Why?” he challenged her. “That you so captivated me that I created your image?”
“Give me the picture,” she commanded, with a sharpness not without an element of entreaty.
“I shall not part with it, so long as I live,” he replied.
“I see you are one of the soldiers from the military academy,” she remarked. “Beware, then — your ill manners could expose you to the harshest of punishments.”
Calmly he answered, “To gaze upon you, I would expose myself to the sternest chastisement.”
“How amazing that you have brought this affliction upon yourself!”
“Yes — one that is most deserving of compassion.”
“What did you want to accomplish with this picture?” she demanded.
“With this picture, I wanted to cure myself of what your eyes have done to me - and now I want you to cure me of what you have done to me with this picture,” he answered.
“I never dreamed that I'd ever meet a man of your insolence.”
“And did I ever dream that I would surrender my mind and my heart in a fleeting instant?”
Then another girl shouted at him, “Did you run after us in order to spoil our happiness?”
Another said to him in the same tone, “You foolish, impudent young man! If you don't leave very quickly, I'll scream for help from the people nearby!”
He looked confidently into the empty space surrounding them and said quietly, “I'm not used to asking for anything, so this is painful for me.”
The beautiful peasant girl shouted, “Do you want to force me to listen to you?”
“No, but I do long that your heart would soften so it would want to hear me out.”
“And if you found my heart like a rock that would not soften?”
“Could that delicate breast really enfold a stone?”
“Only when it's faced by the most foolish of fools.”
“And in the face of a lover's suffering?”
She stamped the earth -with her foot and said violently, “Then it becomes even crueler.”
“The heart of the crudest girl is like a block of ice: if a warm breath touches it, then it melts and pours as pure water,” he retorted.
“This talk that you think so refined,” she replied, sarcastically, “shows that you're a phony soldier, the body of a girl hiding in military clothes. Perhaps you stole this uniform, just as you stole my image before.”
Djedef's face flushed. “May the Lord indulge you,” he said. “I truly am a soldier — and I shall win your heart, as I win in every field of battle.”
“What field of battle are you talking about?” she retorted in derision. “The nation has not known war since before the art of soldiery condescended to your acquaintance. You're just a soldier whose victories are awarded in the fields of peace and safety.”
Increasingly embarrassed, Djedef said, “Do you not know, my beauty, that the life of a pupil in the military academy is like that of a soldier in the field? But, since you've no knowledge of such things, my heart forgives your taunting me so.”
Enraged, she burst out, “Truly I deserve rebuke -
She was about to walk away, but he blocked her path, smiling. “I wonder how I can gain your affection?” he said. “I am very unlucky. Have you ever taken a trip on the Nile in a skiff?”
Frightened of his trapping their mistress, the girls gathered around to protect her. “Let us go now, because the sunset is upon us,” one of them told him.
Yet he would not let them leave. Frustrated, one of them, searching for a moment of inattention, saw her chance and leapt upon him like a lioness, clinging to his leg and biting him on the thigh. Then they all jumped upon him, holding onto his other leg and restraining him by force. He began to resist them calmly without really defending himself, but was unable to move and saw - and the sight nearly drove him mad - the lovely peasant girl running toward the end of the field like a fleeing gazelle. He called out to her begging for her help, but lost his balance and fell upon the grass, while the others still clung to him, not letting go until they -were sure that their mistress had disappeared. He stood up, agitated and angry, and ran in the direction that she had gone - yet saw nothing but emptiness. He returned, despondent, but hoping to find her by following her companions. Yet they outsmarted him, refusing to budge from their places.
“Stay or go now as you wish,” one of them said mockingly.
“Perhaps, soldier boy, this is your first defeat,” said another, maliciously.
“The battle is not finished yet,” he answered in utter pique. “I'll follow you even if you go to Thebes.”
But the one -who first bit him said, “We will spend our night here.”
17
THE NEXT month that he spent in the academy -was the longest and crudest of all. At first he was in great pain over his sullied honor and pride, asking himself wrathfully, “How could I have suffered such a setback? What do I lack in youth, good looks, strength, or wealth?” He would gaze a long time into the mirror and mutter, “What's wrong with me?” What, indeed, had driven the gorgeous creature away from him? What had brought down insult after insult upon him? Why had she fled from him as though he were a leper? But then his intense desire to pursue her and capture her would return, and he would wonder, if he persisted in wooing her day after day, would he be able to curb her defiance and win her heart? What girl can be cruel forever? But this came to him while he was a prisoner for a month behind those huge walls that could withstand any siege.