What does a young child know?
Next to nothing. It’ll take years of growth, years for wisdom to mature, and years to see things in the right perspective. To understand what has happened, what is happening, what will happen- actions, reactions, consequences… it is too much to ask of a child of seven, to ask it to be able to understand what is happening, to see events in their appropriate light. As that same young child, I didn’t understand most things at the time either.
My priorities in life were simply to survive, even though I was barely aware of it. I trusted my parents to provide for clean clothing and a place to sleep, as little as it might have been, and I trusted myself to get through the day of working at our lands. Still, not knowing isn’t equal to not experiencing or being blind to whatever situation is taking place. Whilst not knowing, there were impressions and events that left their mark on me. I never closed my eyes for anything around me, as life continued to teach me its lessons.
When I heard my mother cry for the first time, I was afraid that she was injured, that she was in physical pain. I ran to the only one I knew who had medical knowledge, one of our many neighbours, and I ran as fast as my bare feet could carry me. We lived too far away from the city to simply stop by a healer, or a priest, and I didn’t know what to do. I cried all the way, for I loved my mother dearly, and I was afraid of losing her. She was the centre of our family, the one in charge of the household, the one who loved and cared.
I continued to cry when my father gave me a sound beating for my rash presumptions and wasting the time of our esteemed neighbour, interrupting him from his work on the land for ‘silly women’s tears’. It was a painful lesson to learn, particularly because my father’s hands were calloused and strong from all the menial labour he did. From that moment on, I would never assume or presume, but observe and watch, and draw my conclusions after verification of every factor involved.
The second time I heard my mother cry, I tentatively looked around the doorpost, and saw her sitting on the floor, with a bundle of funny smelling clothing in her hands. To this day, I blame myself for not asking her what was really troubling her mind. I just wandered over to her and put my smudged hands on her knees while I looked up at her. She gave me a smile and embraced me.
“Mahaado,” she said, calling my name. “Mahaado…”
“Mother,” I answered her, while my mind was racing. She wasn’t injured, there was still some food left from yesterday, none of my siblings had scraped his or her knee or broke something… I wasn’t sure why my mother was crying, and I didn’t feel like it was my place to pry.
“Mahaado,” she repeated again, burying her hands in my shoulder length hair, pressing me against her as if she never wanted to let me go. I wanted to protest- I was already seven for crying out loud, and she wanted to hold me like a baby! Still, it felt comfortable and nice, so I didn’t try to squirm away- after all, she was my mother. Her embrace was gentle yet firm, her hands roaming my shoulders, holding me like I was a newborn. I knew she wanted to tell me something, as she opened and closed her mouth without any words coming out, and I didn’t have the heart at that time to ask her. I was the one observing, the one watching, and the one holding faith that she would tell me, eventually.
What do you know when you think you’re an adult?
At age nine, I knew how to read the sun dial, I knew how to work at the lands to help my neighbours and father, and I knew how to pray for the Pharaoh’s well being and his wisdom for our nation. I knew how to show gratitude to the Gods, I knew how to behave in public and to be home at dinner time, for the very simple reason there wouldn’t be anything left for me if I wasn’t in time. Only if there was absolutely nothing for me to do, I was able to spend some time with children my age, my friends.
They had to work too- helping their parents, working on the lands, running errands. No work meant no food, even though there was almost always something to eat to be found- but it was necessary, one would always help his or her family with the daily grind of life. We had the responsibility to grow crops to the best of our knowledge and power, to earn money with our hard work and provide for our families. It was hard, and unsatisfactory- nothing changed in my life but get up early, work, eat, work some more, and go to bed late. I wasn’t really interested in ploughing, in sowing, in cultivating- I wanted to know how things worked and learn more than the daily routine I went through ever since I was able to walk.
I kept those thoughts mostly before me, until I got send to the city for running errands. Some chores at the lands were too much to ask of children when it came to physical strength, and since we little ones were good at running fast, we were paying visits to the city as soon as we could be trusted for completing a chore effectively and without problems. I often passed a tall building when in the city, and I knew this was a ‘school’ where I heard others talk about. I immediately envied those attending it, those clothed in shentis which covered their upper bodies and went below the knee, who wore sandals and held scrolls on their arms, discussing their knowledge amongst each other. They laughed and talked, in a language almost different than mine, in a tone of voice that just oozed their better standing.
When I came home one afternoon after running an errand, I asked my parents why I had never been send to a school or a scribe. My father merely shrugged, saying that he didn’t have the money to send me to school. He was a simple farmer, and managed to get the barest of crops every year from his lands, no matter how much effort he put into ploughing, sowing and harvesting. It was frustrating and difficult, and more than probably the reason he often let his hands do the talking- not that he beat us every day, not at all. Especially during harvest time he didn’t limit himself to his children, often his friends found themselves at the receiving end of a beating, a scolding, a fight.
He didn’t like it that he had to work so hard while others got better results with less effort- and it didn’t help that most of our neighbours didn’t have any qualms in rubbing it in. He was easy to anger, my father, but he was an honest man- he prayed to the Gods, he had faith in the Pharaoh, he did his work without a single complaint. He didn’t have that many friends, but he knew someone who had had lessons from a scribe years ago and if the man agreed, maybe he could teach me at least basic reading and writing.
I was excited about this, until I realized that the man demanded from me to run all his errands as well- it was double the work load, but it was worth it. He taught me reading and writing, and I took in all his knowledge as fast as I could- a whole other world opened up to me! I was finally able to read scrolls, to read the word ‘school’ on the school building, to read the hieroglyphs on the walls of the temples. Where I would stare at the paintings and carvings of Pharaohs and their glorious deeds before, now I could read all about them, memorizing the dates, the events, their names. My teacher was very much amused with my hunger for knowledge, but encouraged me, unlike my own father.
“One day Mahaado, you’ll be able to get into the Palace’s library and read the books there,” he used to say. I would gape at him like a fish- me, a barefoot farmer boy, would be able to go into that magnificent, glorious place that was the Royal Palace, and visit its library there?
“Yes, at certain days it’s open to public,” he told me, and I was in awe at his description of the large rooms, the walls filled with scrolls- describing it to me as if we were already walking around there, at our own leisure. I smiled to myself; yes, one day I’d set foot inside that magnificent library and read all the scrolls in there. I’ve been to the Palace before, even though I could hardly remember it- my mother told me she’d taken me and my siblings to the large square in front of the building when the Prince was shown to the public, the newborn heir to the throne. I must’ve been four or five at that time, but all I can recall is that I was looking at the gigantic crowd, amassed together, suddenly falling to their knees and bowing to something I couldn’t see.
While enjoying the man’s lessons, I learned about ka and ba, the spirit and the soul, the reflection of the true nature of a person. I learned about mythologies, the Gods, the world- strange countries in the north, mystical lands rumoured to be overseas. I learned about various alphabets, how to write down figures, how to interpret text. It was an exhausting, hard time and I often felt tired- I couldn’t keep my eyes open at night when I returned home.
My mother would look at me with that look in her eyes that she always had when she thought I was asking too much of myself, and tried to gently nudge me into taking things a little more easy. My father would shrug, as that was his standard reply- after all, I brought this on myself by asking if I could go see a scribe, now didn’t I? I refused to complain, as this was what I wanted- I wanted to learn, I wanted an answer to my questions: not why the sun went down in the west, but exactly why he set there, and why not in any other direction.
The tiredness finally took its toll on me and I fell asleep during ploughing, which resulted in another beating and I was informed that if I didn’t find the mule that had vanished with the plough, I wouldn’t have to bother coming home at all. It wasn’t that difficult to track down the animal, as I followed her trail, discovering she’d thrown off the plough- but when I took a closer look at the ropes holding it in place, they were raffled and cut.
That’s when I noticed the mass of footprints- someone had taken the plough of our mule, and I needed to hurry to find her. She was our property and indispensable to our work and daily life, and if something happened to her… I heaved a sigh of relief when I noticed the animal standing close to a crevice, two men standing next to her, trying to get her to the other side.
“Hey! Heey!” I waved frantically, increasing my pace to catch up with them. “That’s our mule!”
The two men looked up, hands fisted in the thick fur, growling as they saw me approach.
“We found her,” the left one said, lisping as he was missing some teeth.
“Finders keepers,” the other one agreed, grinning as he cocked his head. Undoubtedly, a kid my age wasn’t very impressive to two full-grown men. I was weighing my options- I didn’t recognize those two, and running back for help would give them enough time to vanish with our source of income- without the mule, we had to plough the land by hand…
“Please, this is our mule,” I told the men, keeping my eyes on the animal. “We need her. It’s not fair to steal one another’s animal…”
“Steal?” The left one laughed out loud, as if I had told something very witty. “We found her, kid. The Gods must’ve placed her on our path so we could take her.”
This was infuriating, and I took a small step closer, my mind racing on how to get the mule back without everyone getting into a fight- not that I was looking for any kind of fight. “It was my irresponsibility that made her walk away, and there was a plough attached to her. I found it a few meters away, ropes cut. That means she couldn’t have taken it off herself…”
The grins disappeared from their faces, making way for an annoyed grimace. “Are you accusing us of stealing, kid?”
“I’m not accusing anyone of anything, but she’s our mule and..”
“That’s pretty much of an accusation I heard there,” the right one interrupted me, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t like being accused of anything, kid. The mule’s ours- you should’ve paid better attention.”
“Please,” was all I could say before he slapped me, hand flat on my cheek, the force of the impact hard enough to split my lip. I fell to the ground, rocks and sand aggravating my fall, cutting and scraping my skin. I didn’t cry out, this hit was nothing- my mind was focused on saving our mule, as the two started pulling and pushing her to get her to cross the crevice. Our animal wasn’t safe in the hands of these rogues and would end up as their dinner.. and this was all my fault! I wasn’t angry- I was desperate. The pain wasn’t much, I briefly tasted blood in my mouth and I started to get up on my feet again.
“Please, don’t,” I mustered enough strength to speak, trying to solve the situation… and I saw the right man turn towards me, annoyance clear on his face.
“Stupid kid,” he mumbled, letting go of the mule and cracking his knuckles.
Panic started to well up in me, not knowing what to do- turn around and run away after all, letting them escape with our mule? He was approaching fast, his scruffy clothing rustling behind him, raising his fist to attack me and I took in a deep gulp of breath, bracing myself for whatever was about to come- but it never came.
And intense light, too bright on the eyes and cold when it touched the skin, cleared the sky. I lifted up my hands to protect my eyes, but my fear and panic had gone, dissolved completely as the light slowly started to dim. Instinctively, I knew I had generated this light somehow, and I wasn’t afraid of it. Even more, it felt familiar. The man recoiled, lowering his fist, his mouth wide open, gaping. At his reaction, I dared to look up to see for myself- seeing what... had come from me.
It was a humanoid being, floating in the air as if the wind itself was carrying him, clad in purple clothing, wielding some kind of staff that was pointed towards the two rogues. I was agape myself- this was heka. Magic. This was my ka! The spirit that dwelled within me, fuelled by my own nature- it had felt my fierce protectiveness, my desire to retrieve our mule and ensure our family’s well being, and it had come out, responding to my dire need.
I couldn’t talk, as I was staring open-mouthed at the being, its face obscure safe for two greenish, glowing eyes, narrowed in indignation at the sight of the other men. I never gave a command, I never spoke- but it simply acted, as if it could hear my thoughts, my wish for this to be over, for this situation to end, for me to return safely with our mule to home. Home.
The point of the staff started to glow dangerously, nailing the men to the ground in fear, starting to wail in misery, crying out in pain and panic as the wave emitted from the staff hit them, and once again light took possession of the sky, swallowing them whole as well as me and the mule and everything in my eyesight and I fell to the ground again, my mind confused and wondering.
Something tickling me woke me up; it was the rough tongue of our mule, licking my cheek and nudging her head to my face, scraping a little impatiently with her hoof over the rocky ground. I remained speechless as I got up, holding onto the animal to find my balance. As I looked around, there was no sight of the men to be seen, and this little voice in the back of my head told me that I would never see them again… maybe no one would ever see them again.
It filled my heart with fear and awe… fear for what I’ve done, for what I summoned, for what was dwelling inside me, and awe for that same being that had appeared, guarding me, immediately choosing to protect me. I had all the way home to ponder it, and with my hand on the mule’s neck I started to walk, the thick calloused layers of my feet barely registering the hard soil.
Now, as I think back, I wonder if my mother knew. If she knew that I... harboured that kind of heka inside of me. Only a few are able to detect any other’s heka, maybe only noticing it presence, not its strength or nature. Maybe she cried because she knew all along and she was afraid of her own son being able to produce such a being? I knew from that moment that my ka revealed itself to me, I had to be even stronger, as its existence was depending on the strength of my heart.
It had responded to my devotion to protect my family, my desire to ensure everyone’s safety even if it was a simple animal- and I was going to build on that, not allowing my heart to be tainted, to turn this... fantasy being into something evil, something that would ruin things instead of doing good. I also realized that That day, I surpassed our humble community, the hardworking people on the land, my teacher who silently rolled up the scrolls as I came to see him ever since my ka showed itself. He didn’t say anything because there was nothing more to say, nothing more he could teach me- so we silently said goodbye and I never went back to him, and he never called me for running another errand.
The changes were great. People I called my friend were either afraid or in awe of me, not understanding the concept of ka and ba, not wanting to even think of the possibility that they could harbour such a spirit within themselves as well. Now that my heka was revealed it made me feel stronger, more confident. I tried to summon it, to no avail, which made me believe that maybe the spirit ka only came out in times of need. I was in need of someone who could teach me, who could show me the right path to deal with this.
Instead of the world opening up to me, it started closing itself off of me as I frantically searched for answers, stumbling into walls wherever I looked, frustrating me to no end. My father didn’t want to hear anything about it, reminding me of my duties and obligations as eldest son of the family and all the work that needed to be done. My mother didn’t want to talk about it, her eyes saddening as I tried to bring the subject up, sometimes ruffling my hair as I opened my mouth. She continued to cook, to mend my clothes, to be the centre of the family as if nothing happened- and when time passed, I started to doubt if it had happened, as my spirit ka didn’t show itself anymore. I was just a kid, and maybe it was a mere child’s fantasy and had I been dreaming all along.
A few years later, the call for me to report at the Royal Palace came as a surprise nonetheless. The news of my heka, my spirit ka had travelled slower but longer than I thought, and even if I hadn’t manage to summon it again -fortunately, there hadn’t been any situations calling for such drastic measures, my heka had eased life a little for me and my family. It was the third time I heard my mother crying, and yet again I didn’t dare to ask her.
She was crying in front of the messenger, clad in a long shenti and a purple cloak, indicating he was a royal messenger, and I could read the scroll myself, the words strung together in a command to bring ‘the one displaying heka of such sort that he is able to summon it from himself, not with the help of any other instrument’ to the Royal Palace. I would never see her cry again, as she turned around and started packing, mumbling something incomprehensible as she gathered my meagre belonging- some clean clothes, the pair of raggedy sandals I only wore when paying a visit to a temple.
I wasn’t sure what it entailed, to be called to report to the Royal Palace- were they going to punish me for showing off my heka? Was I wrong for having shown such power, even though I never used it, wasn’t able to use it?
From the way she was packing things, I guessed soon enough that my mother wanted to come along, and it felt like rocks were plunging into my stomach. I was still only a child, afraid of losing everything he knew- even though it was monotonous, suffocating and hard work here at our lands, I would’ve continued it to my death if that was asked of me, and I’d preferred it over the uncertainty of what was going to happen… if I were to be punished, if I were to be praised or scolded… my mother didn’t speak to me as she put a loaf of bread into a piece of cloth, wrapping it as if we were going to make a trip to never return.
I realised she didn’t walk as fast as I did, and that we would be mere hours on the way. As the messenger realised that himself, he threw a faint annoyed look at my mother- by that time, I didn’t know he was such a mediocre messenger that he wasn’t even given a horse or a carriage to deliver the message himself. It took time for my mother to gather her things, and I was told to say goodbye to my family- I did was I was told, feeling insecure and strange, and had hoped for at least some words of encouragement or compassion of my father- but he couldn’t be bothered to come along. It was the last I would ever see of him. It was my mother who accompanied me, even though she couldn’t be missed from the household; while we were following the messenger and studying his purple cloak swirling in front of us, my head seemed to burst from all the many questions I had.
My mother was carrying a basket with gifts for the Pharaoh- gifts consisting of simple things we could hardly miss ourselves. I doubted that I was going to see the Pharaoh, but she insisted that no one appeared empty-handed in front of our exalted King and I felt humbled, staring at my hands. I hadn’t brought a thing. I was still wondering why my own father hadn’t taken a little time to see me out, or what all the commotion was all about. The messenger didn’t speak, as if he didn’t want to interact with us commoners, and my mother didn’t know herself what was going on. We were summoned to the Royal Palace for whatever reason- that it had to do with my heka was clear to me, but what?
When we arrived at the large doors and the messenger was having his papers checked, my mother finally spoke since the moment we started walking.
“Mahaado,” she said, and there was this strange hint of pride in her voice. My mother always spoke fondly of me, as I was her eldest son, but this time it was more. Pride, sadness, fondness, love and… acquiescence. Acquiescence to what? The messenger waved over at us, indicating that we could follow him. The burly guards lifted their spears up, allowing us passage and the only thing I could do was to look up, not at them, but at the splendour of the Palace. The stone used to build it was of a shiny surface, cool and smooth to the touch, rendering footsteps almost silently.
It felt hollow though, and I didn’t dare to speak, afraid my voice would resonate too loudly through these large halls. I had no choice but to follow the messenger who guided us, obviously knowing his way around. He halted after a short but brisk walk for which I was thankful- out of the corner of my eyes, I’ve noticed my mother growing more and more tired.
“Wait here,” the messenger said and made a vague gesture with his hand. Following his direction, I noticed a bench out of the same, smooth stone and guided my mother over there, allowing her to sit down. I had long since been carrying the basket for her and I put it at her feet, leaving it in the shade. She was about to say something, but I shushed her.
“Mother, rest for a bit. I’m going to get you some water, all right?”
Nodding and returning a faint smile to me, I knew she needed it- all we had had was a slice of bread and we drank the last of our water before we left. Sure in this great Palace there was someone who could help us to a cup of water? Determined, I assured her to stay where she was so I could find her again, and turned on my heels. I almost smacked to the floor because I wasn’t used to wearing sandals- but my mother insisted that no one would visit the Pharaoh with bare feet.
I started to look around for someone who could help me; and as I wandered through the large corridors, I entered some kind of courtyard. There was no one around- how could there be so little people in such a large Palace? I squinted my eyes at the bright sun, and a flicker caught my eyes. Over there, all the way in the north corner, there was a fountain! I rejoiced when I noticed people standing close by- finally! I hurried forward, adamant on finding a cup or jug so I could bring my mother her desired water.
A small child was sitting on the edge of the elaborately crafted fountain. Made of stone, the fountain sported images of our beloved Gods, and many, many ornaments in gold. Lotus flowers were drifting in the remarkably clear water, the same water the child was sticking his hands into, amusing himself by splashing water up, laughing in delight at the drops, uncaring if his shenti got a little wet. The simple clothing he wore were completely overshadowed by the amount of gold on his body- braces around his arms, wrists, calves and waist, a broad collar around his neck, and some sort of crafted headpiece to top it off. Not only was the amount of gold astounding, his hair was of the strangest kind I had ever seen: deep rich black with dark red tips, and golden bangs to frame his face, swinging with every movement he made. I figured he must be a very rich child, but rich child or no, if he leaned any closer, he would fall into the fountain.
“Be careful or you’ll fall in,” I admonished, keeping the curiosity out of my voice as well as not sounding too scolding. I had experience with my many siblings and other children. I’d be able to pull him out of the fountain if he really did fall in; besides, the water didn’t seem too deep to me.
The child looked up, looking directly at me, and his crimson red eyes startled me for the briefest of moments, before he laughed- not at me, but simply in entertainment. Now I noticed the big and colourful fish in the fountain and figured out why he was splashing the water- apparently, he tried to catch the fish. It surprised me how comfortable the child felt with all the gold adorning him, and he looked quite content just sitting and playing. He stuck his hands in the water again, missing the fish by a mile, but still laughing.
“Fish,” he said.
“They look nice,” I had to admit. They were bright and colourful, but I couldn’t understand why someone would keep fish in a fountain; they meant merely dinner to me.
“They do not bite,” he said and nodded, as if he had just discovered something incredibly wise and was sharing this piece of wisdom with me. I had to laugh, be it a little softly. He was cute.
“No, fish don’t bite. They don’t have teeth,” I said, and pointed to one of the larger fish. “They have gills with which they swim, and see that thing attached to its face? That is how they sense what’s in the water, and how they find food.”
“Really?” He widened his eyes, and stared into the water with new-found admiration, as if he truly saw fish for the first time.
I decided to sit on the edge of the fountain as well, so I could keep an eye on the little boy, and leaned forward again.
“What’s your name?” I asked him.
“My name is only reserved for those in my service,” he said, sounding... almost adorably pouting as if I offended him somehow- which hadn’t been my intention, of course. I just asked for his name.
”Your service?” I repeated, dumbfounded. This child had servants? The people close to the fountain, standing a little to the side... I noticed them before, but never realised how close they were. Guards, servants, keeping a watchful eye over him, standing by to immediately react should anything happen. I stared at the boy, figuring he must be of very high nobility and that I more than probably shouldn’t be talking to him.. yet, I didn’t want to leave him alone. If I asked politely, he could probably tell one of his servants to bring my mother some water… as I saw him leaning forward, face close to the water again, my arm slowly rose, as to grab him before he would tip over and fall in.
“Leave him be,” a voice boomed behind me and I cringed, freezing in my movement. That voice held so much authority that it was hard to disobey, yet managed to sound gentle in a strange way. “He can swim, and if he falls in, he will learn not to ignore advice given to him.”
“Father!” the young child said gleefully, mirth shining in his eyes and he jumped off the edge of the fountain, fish completely forgotten as he ran over to the man who had spoken, a tall man clad in luxurious robes, wearing some kind of golden object. I slid off the edge of the fountain as well, knowing that this man was very, very, very important- it was as if he was wrapped in an invisible cloak of importance and kingly composure, his movements graceful yet showing a confident demeanour. He bend through his knees to welcome the boy in his arms, patting him on the back a few times before straightening himself again, his eyes focusing on me, and I couldn’t help but swallow. This man was authority in the flesh, undeniably. His hand rested on the shoulder of his son, who stood next to his leg, hand fisted in the thick, rich fabric of his robes.
“You must be Mahaado,” the man spoke, suddenly showing a smile. “The one the whole Palace is looking for?”
“I…” I was left without words. People were looking for me?
“Mahaado! Mahaado!” That was the sound of my mother’s voice, and I saw her approach, all but running, looking panicked.
“Mother? But…”
She wrapped her arms around me again, almost protectively. “You were gone for so long! I was afraid you got lost…”
“Mother...”
“Leave him be,” the tall man repeated, this time with definitely an amused tone in his voice. “They’ll learn from their own mistakes, and it shows how studious this young man is. I’m sure he already memorized the structure of the Palace, am I right?”
I blushed furiously for a moment, not wanting to admit that indeed, I had memorized how I walked, how the Palace was built, and I was frustrating myself finding out what kind of stone the workers had used, because I didn’t recognize it.
“I’m sorry, mother,” I said, “I didn’t want to worry you, I was looking to find some water…”
“Let us go inside,” the man said, still sounding amused and he turned around to leave, his son firmly clinging to his leg. He reached down and gently disentangled his son’s fingers from his robe, sliding the small hand into his own, taking him with him as he walked towards one of the large doors.
“Mother..?” I asked, as I didn’t know what to make out of this. I had embarrassed and worried my mother, and I felt horribly for it- she was looking at me with a mixture of relief and horror on her face, and I couldn’t understand why. The guards and servants who had been watching suddenly started walking, following the man and the child, not one of them greeting us in passage but one of the maids.
“He sure has a lot to learn, hasn’t he?” She asked my mother, but it wasn’t brusquely or rude. “It’s a good thing the King is so favourable of children. He wouldn’t have accepted it from anyone adult.”
I stared after her, wondering why she was talking like that to my mother who bowed her head in silent answer, starting to smooth out my clothing as if it already wasn’t impeccable in place. It took a few moments for me to pale, as realization hit me and I finally made the connection.
At the age of eleven, I became an adult, the moment I realized I had been talking to the future Pharaoh, a son of the gods, and I had admonished him for not leaning too far in the fountain. I had met the current Pharaoh, and hadn’t knelt for him or shown any signs of recognition. The Gods decided not to smite me that day- for reasons unknown to me.
My life changed drastically ever since that day I was brought to the Royal Palace. I was entrusted into the care of one of the Pharaoh’s Priests, and he started teaching me the moment I stepped into his room. Whatever I thought I knew, and I thought I knew pretty much already, paled in the comparison of the wisdom of this great man. He laughed at my basic skills, mocking me for being a simple farm boy and lamenting himself for being the one to educate me with decades of knowledge in much shorter time. He ridiculed my pronunciation, my handwriting, taunted me for being unable to uphold myself in debate or conversation, for my general lack of insight.
He started training me in controlling and perfecting my heka, which he ordered me to summon on the spot, almost crying out loud in rage when I told him I couldn’t. I was nothing but a mule in his eyes, the lowest of servants, and he couldn’t understand why exactly he was saddled with the unholy duty of moulding me into a Priest. The second I heard him voice that complaint, my blood almost froze; so that was the goal of having me report to the Palace. I figured as much that no one was attacking me for my heka- people were impressed with my spirit ka as soon as they heard about it, praising me for being able to summon it at such a young age.
I had to grit my teeth and work hard- I absorbed everything, reading until the late hours of the night, writing as fast as I’ve never written before, staining my fingers with ink, ruining reeds with the force I was writing down the hieroglyphs with. I wanted to show my teacher that his farm boy could handle whatever what was thrown at him, and that I could do whatever he demanded of me. The days weren’t as hard compared to the physical labour I’ve done before, working on my father’s lands, but long and difficult as I was given tasks and assignments, receiving responsibilities and obligations to fulfil. If I wanted to remain in the Pharaoh’s service, I had to answer to all these expectations of people around me, and the expectations I laid upon myself.
I learned the Pharaoh’s name when he was thirteen and I was sixteen. My teacher told me his name, and stressed the importance of immediately forgetting it. One was not worthy enough to address the Pharaoh with his given name, ever- with the risk of capital punishment. When I was alone in my small room, I would say his name out loud, tasting it how it would roll off. Atemu. Pharaoh Atemu.
I had the fortunate privilege to be around the Prince for quite some time, as we studied together. I shared history and mythology classes with him, and we went to temples and shrines together to do our homework. I received the honour of teaching him the basic principles of heka- it made me swell with pride, even though my teacher said he was too busy to teach the young Prince himself, I knew he was assigning me this responsibility due to my training for Priesthood.
As the time went by, a younger girl by the name of Mana joined us. I immediately sensed her great promise, the dormant power of heka, harboured within her. Even as I was still a student myself, I already had an apprentice- it made rumours fly around wildly in the Palace, and I was stern and determined to become the best magus, just as my Magus of Fantasy Illusion, as I had named my spirit ka, who had grown immensely in power with all the summoning and training.
I learned how to use heka in battle, developing a strong bond with my magus as we were dependent on each other, especially in battle- he was alive as long as I had any ba left. We trained together, the young Prince, Mana and me, even though the former two didn’t have any spirit ka, we trained in fighting, strengthening our bodies. Even with all the studying and work together, there was still room for play and relaxation.
The courtyard I had met the Prince for the first time became ‘our’ courtyard, where one of us could always be found. It wasn’t as large as the main courtyard, which spanned miles in surface; it was rather small, with the large fountain and two other, large basins of water, all adorned with those beautiful lotus flowers. The sun would be there only for a few hours a day, shadows offering cool shades from the high temperatures during the afternoon and early evening.
We often met there to study together or just hang around; even the future Pharaoh was sometimes bored, cranky or even rebellious when throwing a particularly boring and tedious scroll into the fountain. Which his father wasn’t very pleased with- and despite being the Pharaoh’s apple of his eye, the Prince wouldn’t and couldn’t avoid his punishment for destroying a perfectly fine document.
The Palace’s library became familiar territory to me as I spend hours and hours studying and researching. It reminded me of how confident my previous teacher was that I once would visit the Palace’s library- and now I was anchored in it, sitting behind one of the large tables, with papyri strewn all around me. Servants would bring me food and drink, sometimes gently reminding me either of a meeting I had to attend or to get some rest.
I got used to my new life fast, though I never forgot about what I had called my ‘previous’ life- that one of a farm boy, struggling to make ends meet, day after day. I was dressed in large robes as I grew tall, I was given gold to wear to indicate my status of being a Priest in training, I was talking to the Pharaoh- marvelled that he wanted my advice, my opinion, even though I wasn’t a full-fledged Priest yet.
I learned so much from the meetings with him and his advisors, learned from my teacher who would never praise me and always pushed me to strive for more. I saw the pride in his eyes as I perfected my heka, my Magus of Fantasy Illusion growing with the strength of my heart, my devotion to the Pharaoh and his family strengthening with every passing day.
Besides work and play, there was laughter and tears. Laughter when we were forgetting all our duties and plights and ran around the Palace, Mana and the young Prince hiding in pots- easily detectable for me, but for the fun of it I would pretend not being able to find them as they were snickering in their hiding places. Mana was growing up to be a headstrong girl, beautiful in her appearance and potentially very strong in her heka.
It annoyed me that she was sometimes quite lax in her studies, trying to practice spells she wasn’t ready for or forgetting an important part of it, rendering her magic useless in certain occasions. While she called me boring and sometimes too strict for my own good, there wasn’t much I didn’t tolerate from her. She’d be a great sorceress once, if only she had the same determination and devotion as my Prince. Ah… that was a slip of the tongue. I often used to think of the young Prince as ‘my’ Prince, simply because we were friends, and it was obvious that we were gravitating towards each other, as our bond seemed to strengthen as time went by and our duties and obligations started to weigh heavier.
I was reminded daily that I was in the presence of the future Pharaoh, the King of the nation, the ruler of our lands, and that I had the good fortune of knowing him personally. He didn’t show any signs of heka himself, but he was interested in the mechanics and diversities of it and it was a pleasure to teach him. I had to remain calm and composed as his eyes rested on me, filled with curiosity and interest as I told him about the workings of magic, of the existence of various spell types, and sometimes the room seemed just too warm, and not because of the temperature outside.
Atemu… yes, in my thoughts I called him Atemu for that was his name, grew up to be a headstrong man, stubbornness matching his father, determined and strong, and... astoundingly beautiful. The long dark lashes framing his crimson red eyes who always bore an intense gaze, the shape of his face, his small lips… everything was beautiful about him. The way he moved, the way he talked, the way he laughed... even when he was irritated or annoyed, he was still beautiful. The gold adorning his ears and head always looked magnificent on him, his natural skin colour contrasting with the jewellery majestically.
He would throw a fit sometimes how he hated being small- which must’ve been something of his mother’s side, as his father was tall enough. Mana didn’t mind much, she was about his height and hated craning her neck to everyone she was talking to. Still, I couldn’t be thinking of him as ‘my’. He was the Prince, a handsome young man who would be betrothed to a princess or young empress soon, and I couldn’t help myself but feel jealous at the one who would be holding his hand in holy matrimony, exchanging vows with him and look into his eyes at night.
To block these thoughts, I completely buried myself in my studies, finishing and surpassing my teacher to his own surprise, far earlier than he expected. I made sure I spend enough time with my apprentice and with my… the young Prince who was being prepared for ascending the throne when the time was there. I was raised to Priesthood, accepting the mystical Sennen Ring as a part of my new position, the symbol of my obligation and duties.
The artefact was from my predecessor, who had passed away- I frowned when receiving the Item but quickly covered it up as not to disturb the ceremony; I detected a great evil in this Ring. Both the Pharaoh and the Prince congratulated me with my progress and my success; for once, I wished my father and my mother were there to see me, for the both of them how I had worked hard and done my best. To my sadness, and as far as I recall I felt really lonely that one night, ties with the family were severed when one was accepting into and ascending into Priesthood. I’d never seen my mother again since the day she brought me to the Palace, and I knew I would never see my father or my siblings again.
I already realized by then how the tears and pain in my family had stemmed from the desolate future they’d only seen for themselves, of working the flesh off their bones for barely any profit, for being unable to express themselves but with fighting and beatings instead of words, of not having any much looking forward to than the next cycle of sowing, reaping, harvesting, ploughing.
Tears were abundant the day the great Pharaoh died after a short sickness, striking him suddenly and leaving the most skilled healers baffled and powerless. My service to Pharaoh Akunamukanon shifted to service to Pharaoh Atemu, a child of thirteen, more than adult in the eyes of many, having been prepared all his life for this particular moment.
The day his father died and he ascended the Throne, he looked… wrong. Yes, he had his usual confident, composed look that made it clear to everyone that he was a ruler, a Pharaoh of a great nation, and he would take on this burden without fail. Not everyone was able to see it, as his confidence and slight arrogant nature were excellent deterrents for his true feelings, that what lied deeply hidden in his heart- the sadness of his father’s death, the uncertainty now that he lost his greatest mentor and role model, and he sat on a Throne too large for him, his feet not reaching the ground.
I couldn’t see anything different from the small, young child who spoke to me in the courtyard, playing with the fish in the fountain, telling me that his name was reserved only for those in his service, and from the slightly taller, still young boy who was sitting up straight in a cold and hard seat that resembled his Throne, calmly accepting his duties and obligations as he hid sadness and fear behind his exterior of regal demeanour.
I was in his service now as his Priest, attending his court, and I only saw him burdened, weighed down more with each passing minute. We had been a unity, the three of us -him, me and Mana, and the bond between us was shifting as he was speaking, pronouncing the holy vows of accepting his position and the promise of ruling the nation. I wasn’t Mahaado anymore; I was the wielder of the Sennen Ring, advisor and Priest of his court. I had a duty to uphold and dignity and wisdom to maintain, but my obligations and responsibilities were nothing compared to what was awaiting our young Prince… no, Pharaoh.
Maybe what I did next, was wrong… or maybe people would say it would be wrong. He was surrounded by people- people who wanted to be in his favour, people who wanted a favour, people who were his enemies, people who were his friends. They were all circling around him, eyeing him as if he was some kind of prey, and he had to face them all, take decisions, disappoint one and grace the other, and he would make more enemies and more friends as he was going along. It was a long day, filled with all kinds of ceremonies and festivities, celebrating the crowning of a ‘new’ Pharaoh while the previous one was buried, judged by the Gods for his deeds and his sins.
He had to be tired, seeing how his posture started to slouch in the hard seat, but before I could say something about it, his vizier, an elderly man that went by the name of Shimon, whispered something to his ear. Probably some kind of excuse, because suddenly he stood up and left his Throne, as usual guards quickly herding around him. I send Shimon a thankful smile, to which he nodded; that man was as loyal as one could possibly be, also deriving from the late Pharaoh’s court. I didn’t know him very well personally, but I had gathered that he was in excellent standing with the royal family and knew that he would be of great service to our current Pharaoh.
I excused myself from the festivities as well, following the small procession to the Pharaoh’s private quarters, waiting patiently until all the guards but the ones in front of the doors had dispersed. He was alone in his room, and I knew he was crying. I never had seen him cry before, but the loss of one’s father, especially a good man like Pharaoh Akunamukanon, would be hard on anyone. I brushed past the guards, who didn’t bother to acknowledge my presence- after all, they knew me, and I would’ve frozen them in place if they hadn’t allowed me to pass.
The first room I entered was the antechamber, spacious enough to house a variety of furniture for those waiting for permission of the Pharaoh to continue and walk further into his private room. I noticed the bowl with fresh fruit on one of the side tables- it looked like perfection, patiently waiting to be consumed. Scraping my throat as to announce myself, I opened the door which separated the antechamber from his private quarters and walked in.
“Great Pharaoh,” I voiced out loud, “with your permission…?” It suddenly dawned me that this was the first time I called him Pharaoh instead of Prince. He made that almost unnoticeable gesture with his head, but that was the permission I needed to make my way over to him, my ankles sinking away in the thick carpet. He brusquely rubbed at his face, pursing his lips in a tight line as he avoided looking into one of the many mirrors.
“My Pharaoh, it is of no shame to cry, for the loss of someone that dear to us all and you in particular is great…”
He showed me a soft smile, for the briefest of moments before he turned his head away again. “The last time I cried was at a shrine to the Gods, when my father asked for their forgiveness,” he said. “As far as I’m concerned, that was the last time I cried.”
“I understand, my Pharaoh,” I said, bowing. I knew there had to be more behind this story, but I left it to him to fill it in whenever he saw fit. After all, it wasn’t my duty to question my Pharaoh, let alone pry into his... business.
“Pharaoh Akunamukanon was a good man. He will be welcomed in the Kingdom of our Gods and stay among them…”
“Thank you,” he answered me, almost automatically, as if the words didn’t register. He was numb of sadness, tired beyond exhaustion, and facing a task that would’ve been too much to bear for the most of us. I moved my hand to reach past him, taking a piece of cloth from the table he was sitting at, and I dabbed at his cheeks to remove the traces of tears. The kohl around his eyes had ran all over his face, smudging and smearing his smooth, golden skin.
He closed his eyes, those large, crimson eyes, brushing the long dark lashes past his cheekbones. He was so vulnerable at that moment, naked in a way, open and pure, and my fingers started to tremble. There was only this tiny piece of cloth between my fingers and his skin, preventing me from really touching him.
”Mahaado,” he said, rupturing the silence, “what am I going to do without my father?”
“You will rule the country as he did before you, my Pharaoh.” I dabbed some more, despite the kohl being as good as cleaned off his face now.
“I... I simply can not..”
“Yes you can,” I said, reluctantly removing the dirty cloth, waiting for him to open his eyes.
“I am not my father,” he said a little sullenly, head still tilted.
“Fortunately, you are not. My Pharaoh, you bear the traits and assets of your father.. his great sense of justice, of responsibilities, his care for his nation and his people. Those are the important things, the pillars of your ruling, and you will give your own mark to it, growing as you go along.”
“I have had a great example in my life,” he suddenly murmured. “I do not know if I can live up to it, simply because I am not my father.”
“I am sure you can,” I repeated. “My Pharaoh, you are young and strong. You have had one of the best educations and preparations this country, the people around you, has to offer. It is difficult as the grieving and mourning is still so fresh…”
“How can we be celebrating..?” He asked, shaking his head, but finally opening his eyes.
“We celebrate the birth of a new beginning,” I said softly. “The end of a previous chapter, the turning of a new page.”
“I should have known you would come up with a comparison that involves a book,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips, tone of voice a little teasingly. I blushed faintly, knowing that he knew me all too well. Searching for some kind of distraction, I saw the large golden Puzzle lying on the table. The heritance of his father, the ultimate symbol of the Pharaoh’s power.
Without thinking twice, I took the artefact, looping the cord around my fingers, lifting it up over his head. He leaned a little forward and I hung it around his neck, taken aback by the sheer weight of it. The Puzzle didn’t only symbolize the power of its wielder, but also the burden of the man who stood at the head of a glorious nation.
“Remember that you have your Court- your Priests and advisors who will always help you.”
“Yes, that is right,” he said, heaving a small sigh, turning his head towards me as his hand went to cup the Puzzle. “I have you.”
The blush on my cheeks tinted deeper, and I wasn’t really sure how he was addressing the situation… but there was one answer I could give him.
“Yes, you have me.”
I didn’t imagine the bright smile he gave me, a smile that dissolved into an attempt to stifle a yawn. The day and the latest events had certainly been certainly exhausting and he needed his rest. I wasn’t about to suggest to the Pharaoh that he should go to bed, though. He was far above me, the living representation of the Gods, and he would know what to do best.
I remained standing where I stood, awaiting his command, awaiting his every wish he would utter. He wasn’t speaking, but his eyes were set in determination, that fierce look that I had seen often with him, holding the same pride and confidence that I knew from his father, passed onto his son, who was at the brink of ruling this nation, and I knew by then that the country was safe, I was safe, everyone was safe, as the Pharaoh had ascended the Throne, a strong Pharaoh who held values and justice high, and I would be at his side for as long as he needed me.
Chapter 2