all sense of awe and majesty — even though the caravan was like no more than a fistful of water in a shoreless sea. Does the circling kite want to be seen by the clutch of little chicks? What is his love, anyway? And what are his agonies to anyone else? Who can feel them, in that infinite space, and how one's cry is lost in that endless universe! What does Djedef himself matter — and who can care about his love?
The sudden snorting of his horse alerted him to his surroundings. The caravan had been advancing steadily until its forward part reached the place called Rayyan, and they halted for rest. This was among the most favorable spots in the desert for hunting, with Mt. Seth stretching by it north to south, a refuge for the various kinds of animals that hunters seek. From the mountain's slope to what bordered it in the east, two great hills extended, enclosing a large patch of desert, then they narrowed as they stretched eastward. Ultimately, only twenty arm lengths separate them in a very rare and special place, naturally perfect for hunting and the chase.
The men began to feel tired, so the servants and soldiers rushed to put up the tents. Meanwhile, others were absorbed in organizing the cooking utensils and fuel for the fire as the work proceeded with a lively purpose. Indeed, in scarcely a few minutes a complete military camp was formed, the horses tethered, and a space cleared for the cooking fire. The guards took up their positions as the princes headed toward the grand tent raised on wooden pegs inlaid with pure gold. The princes rested for an hour, until, refreshed, they set out for the chase.
The servants set up a great hunting net near the narrowest point between the two adjoining hills. The soldiers scattered along the triangle drawn by Mt. Seth and these two smaller promontories. Others crossed onto the slope of the mountain to stampede the placid animals, while the princes mounted their horses, inspected their weapons, then spread out across the spacious plain, ready for action.
Princess Meresankh, on her elegantly trimmed steed, remained in front of the great tent to observe the expected struggle, seen time after time between men and beasts. She watched the movements of the princes with enormous interest. Evidently, she found the hunting to be slow, for in an audible voice she asked the officers that stood at the rear, without turning toward them, “What's wrong with me that I don't see any game?”
A voice she knew well answered, “The soldiers have gone off to beat the animals from the bush.” It continued, “Soon, Your Highness, you should see them coming down the slope of the mountain, howling, lowing, and roaring.”
She looked far off at the slope of Mt. Seth. The officer's claim proved true, for it was not long before she saw groups of gazelles, rabbits, and stags racing downhill in their differing gaits, ignorant of what the Fates had hidden from them. As they fled, the mounted princes drove them on. Then each one of them bolted after his particular prey, and the battle began. The hunters pursued the beasts in order to drive them toward the net that awaited them, its maw open wide.
Altogether, Prince Khafra was the most skilled hunter in the party. All had noticed his nimbleness and athletic trimness, his complete mastery over his horse, and his superb handling of its movements, as well as his ability to communicate with beasts, to press them hard, and to push them forward to the destination he desired. He had never failed in the chase, and nor in his aim, and had worn even his dogs to exhaustion in pursuit of his numerous victims.
Prince Ipuwer likewise displayed a rare proficiency, stirring wonder with the speed of his onslaught, the accuracy of his aim, and his physical adroitness — he was an equestrian without equal.
The princes continued in their violent diversion as time ran unnoticeably by, and the hunt almost ended in unadulterated enjoyment — if an incident hadn't occurred that nearly spoiled it entirely. Prince Khafra was chasing a fleeing gazelle below the mountain's slope: when passing a tall rise, he found his way blocked by an enormous lion, its fangs bared. Many soldiers cried out to him in warning, but — ever stalwart — he put his hand on his spear to pull it from its sheath. The lion did not wait, however, but instead made a great leap and struck Khafra's horse on the face with his massive paw. Immediately, the stallion's feet grew heavy and he stumbled about like a drunk about to fall down. As he did so, the lion crouched, preparing to bound forward again even more fiercely than before. Events were unfolding rapidly, when the prince, wielding his spear, was able to aim and hurl it at the lion — which was in midleap — with terrific force. But at that moment his horse fell dead from the lion's first blow, and the spear flew wide of its mark, sparing the big cat. The prince fell on his back, far from any weapon, at the mercy of his feline foe.
As this was happening, the princes, soldiers, and officers were urging their mounts onward toward the threatened heir apparent, each one willing to give up his own life to save him. Djedef was flying on his horse like a bird through the air, quickly covering the distance that separated him from the prince, beating the others to him, arriving just as the lion made his fatal leap. Not wasting a moment, he drew out his long spear, and, grasping it with both hands, leapt from the back of his galloping horse — with immense speed, falling like a flaming meteor on the raging lion. Planting his lance in the monster's mouth, he pierced it through to the sandy ground, where the lion, transfixed, could not reach him — with his claws. The other princes and soldiers then caught up — with them and — circling the heir apparent — fired arrows at the dying beast until it expired. Princess Meresankh appeared on her own stallion, terrified, her comely face clothed — with horror and fear. Seeing her brother standing healthy and in one piece, she came down from her horse, ran to him and embraced him around his neck, exclaiming in heartfelt gratitude, “Praise be to the merciful Lord Ptah!”
The princes approached the heir apparent and congratulated him on his survival: they all prayed together to the Lord Ptah in profoundest thanks.
Prince Khafra looked at his slain steed with obvious regret, then walked up to the body of the lion that had nearly furnished his demise: he looked at it, arrows covering it like the fur of a hedgehog. From there he looked at the horseman standing to its right like a handsome statue. Suddenly he remembered him — the outstanding man whom he had chosen to be an officer in his personal guards. The gods, it seemed, had selected him for his role at this nerve-wracking moment, and the prince felt astonishment and gratitude toward him. He drew close to him, put his hand on his shoulder and said, “O courageous officer, you have saved me from certain death. I will repay you for your incomparable heroism with an appropriate reward.”
Prince Ipuwer also came up to Djedef, whose intrepid actions had shaken him. He pumped his hand vigorously as he said, “O valorous soldier, you have rendered to your country and your king services over and above any example of appreciation.”
They all returned to the camp, a heavy silence looming over them, their spirits dissipated in the numbness that follows escape from an unexpected peril. On the way back, one of the men of Prince Ipuwer's retinue said to him, “The gods would not have been pleased to torment the heart of the old king. He has locked his lofty self away in his dreary burial chamber, where he is writing for his people — all of whom love him — his thesis on survival of evil and illness. After all, how else can one repay good deeds but with more good deeds?”
The exalted gentlemen took their ease, after which they were presented with a banquet. After they had dined, the crown prince ordered the servants to distribute goblets of red Maryut wine to the soldiers in celebration of his survival. The soldiers imbibed it and prayed again in thanks to their god. Then they all sang Pharaoh's anthem with voices like the rumble of thunder reverberating through the expanse of desert. They kept this up for a while, then prepared themselves for departure. The tents were struck, the baggage and the hunting equipment packed up, and the caravan departed in the same manner that it came — except that the crown prince ordered the officer Djedef to ride in his company. He announced his wish to make Djedef one of his closest companions.
The doughty lad's heart fluttered with the rapture of joy and glory, for none enjoyed this magnificent honor except the princes and the prominent men of state. He felt an indescribable happiness in riding in the wing of majesty that centered around Princess Meresankh. He imagined her hearing the violent beating of his heart as it pounded with love and passion. He was afraid to turn his head toward her, but he saw her gorgeous face in his mind's eye, and in the emptiness that spread out before him. He beheld her radiance despite the drab tones on the horizon, which announced the approach of nightfall.
If only she would bestow upon him a word of thanks like the others, he would deem it above all glory and the world together!
23
The crown prince was serious — when he said that he would reward Djedef for saving his life. The Fates seemed to have chosen Khafra from among all men to pave the fortunate youth's road to glory. And indeed, but a
