writes out the prayers for you, will you be able to read them?”
Huy shook his head. “Not yet. But my teacher will help me.”
“Good. You seem to be acquiring a new and somewhat surprising interest in the state of your soul. Do you like the other boys here?”
“Most of them.” Huy settled down to tell his uncle all about Harnakht, Kay, and Thothmes, the objectionable Sennefer, and the lofty inapproachability of the jewelled and perfumed young men who fascinated him.
Ker laughed at the way he described them. “Before you know it, you too will be tall and beautiful. I am very proud of you, Huy. You are a credit to all of us at home.”
The beer had made Huy sleepy. He yawned, thinking of his cot in the coolness of his cell. Ker indicated the cabin. “Crawl onto the cushions in there and rest,” he offered. “I must do business with the High Priest this afternoon. I have incense gum for him and a quantity of kyphi perfume for the dancers. My men will remain on board.” He leaned over and kissed Huy’s hot forehead. “Don’t worry, the Overseer knows where you are.”
Huy had not seen the Overseer since that first miserable day when Ker had deposited him in this place that had seemed so vast and terrifying. But I suppose , he thought as he burrowed into the cabin’s cushions and drowsily watched the slatted pattern of light around him, that he must know everything about everyone here or he wouldn’t be an Overseer . The cabin felt like some animal’s den, cozy and safe. Voices and the rhythmic shush of sandals on paving came to him pleasantly muted. The odour of the barge’s wood was like the music of some old, familiar lullaby, and as he fell asleep Huy fancied that he could also smell a panful of perch frying over a fire on a sweet spring evening by the river.
Ker’s vessel pulled away from the temple watersteps just as Huy’s swimming class wandered into sight. Huy was disappointed. He would have liked the other boys to have boarded the barge, however briefly. But Ker was on his way to Weset and had many river miles to cover. He had said an affectionate goodbye to his nephew, and Huy was sad as he watched the helmsman clamber onto his high seat and grasp the tiller. For a moment he wished he might be making the journey to that holy city where the King sat on his golden throne and all the men around him must surely look like the nobles’ sons here at the school. But then Thothmes called him and the others were leaping into the water with screams of delight, and Huy began to shed his kilt and loincloth. It had not occurred to him to want to go home.
3
OVER THE NEXT TWO MONTHS , the fixed routine of life at the school gradually became a matter of second nature to Huy. He no longer had to run to Harnakht for direction or reassurance if he could not remember where he had to be or what was coming next. The rhythm of his days—eating, washing, studying, exercising—even the walls of the precinct itself, provided a womb of predictability inside which he could safely flourish.
Long before Thothmes had finally learned to negotiate the many rooms and passages himself, Huy knew them, and the other boy’s temporary dependence on Huy accelerated the bond already growing between them. Huy was not tempted to exert control over his cellmate as he had always tried to do over Ishat. He might have Thothmes at his mercy where a corridor branched, but Thothmes was his better in the knowledge of the many things the pupils in their class took for granted. Huy absorbed information quickly, holding his tongue when the conversation turned to the family lives of those who were his social superiors. He was making swift progress under his teacher’s critical eye and could comfort himself with the knowledge that, although this boy might be the son of a governor or that one belong to one of the King’s Overseers, he himself had a sharper mind and a greater love for the hieroglyphs he was beginning to
Huy shook his head. “Not yet. But my teacher will help me.”
“Good. You seem to be acquiring a new and somewhat surprising interest in the state of your soul. Do you like the other boys here?”
“Most of them.” Huy settled down to tell his uncle all about Harnakht, Kay, and Thothmes, the objectionable Sennefer, and the lofty inapproachability of the jewelled and perfumed young men who fascinated him.
Ker laughed at the way he described them. “Before you know it, you too will be tall and beautiful. I am very proud of you, Huy. You are a credit to all of us at home.”
The beer had made Huy sleepy. He yawned, thinking of his cot in the coolness of his cell. Ker indicated the cabin. “Crawl onto the cushions in there and rest,” he offered. “I must do business with the High Priest this afternoon. I have incense gum for him and a quantity of kyphi perfume for the dancers. My men will remain on board.” He leaned over and kissed Huy’s hot forehead. “Don’t worry, the Overseer knows where you are.”
Huy had not seen the Overseer since that first miserable day when Ker had deposited him in this place that had seemed so vast and terrifying. But I suppose , he thought as he burrowed into the cabin’s cushions and drowsily watched the slatted pattern of light around him, that he must know everything about everyone here or he wouldn’t be an Overseer . The cabin felt like some animal’s den, cozy and safe. Voices and the rhythmic shush of sandals on paving came to him pleasantly muted. The odour of the barge’s wood was like the music of some old, familiar lullaby, and as he fell asleep Huy fancied that he could also smell a panful of perch frying over a fire on a sweet spring evening by the river.
Ker’s vessel pulled away from the temple watersteps just as Huy’s swimming class wandered into sight. Huy was disappointed. He would have liked the other boys to have boarded the barge, however briefly. But Ker was on his way to Weset and had many river miles to cover. He had said an affectionate goodbye to his nephew, and Huy was sad as he watched the helmsman clamber onto his high seat and grasp the tiller. For a moment he wished he might be making the journey to that holy city where the King sat on his golden throne and all the men around him must surely look like the nobles’ sons here at the school. But then Thothmes called him and the others were leaping into the water with screams of delight, and Huy began to shed his kilt and loincloth. It had not occurred to him to want to go home.
3
OVER THE NEXT TWO MONTHS , the fixed routine of life at the school gradually became a matter of second nature to Huy. He no longer had to run to Harnakht for direction or reassurance if he could not remember where he had to be or what was coming next. The rhythm of his days—eating, washing, studying, exercising—even the walls of the precinct itself, provided a womb of predictability inside which he could safely flourish.
Long before Thothmes had finally learned to negotiate the many rooms and passages himself, Huy knew them, and the other boy’s temporary dependence on Huy accelerated the bond already growing between them. Huy was not tempted to exert control over his cellmate as he had always tried to do over Ishat. He might have Thothmes at his mercy where a corridor branched, but Thothmes was his better in the knowledge of the many things the pupils in their class took for granted. Huy absorbed information quickly, holding his tongue when the conversation turned to the family lives of those who were his social superiors. He was making swift progress under his teacher’s critical eye and could comfort himself with the knowledge that, although this boy might be the son of a governor or that one belong to one of the King’s Overseers, he himself had a sharper mind and a greater love for the hieroglyphs he was beginning to
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