The Twice Born Read Free Page A

hotly. “We were going to wait until after tomorrow, let him enjoy his Naming Day!”
    Hapu leaned forward. “I would have waited, but Huy does not deserve such consideration. What gift has our son chosen to lay before the god of our city as a thanksgiving for his life?” He sat back. “And for health, a quick intelligence, people who love him, an existence untainted by any want. What gift? A thing he does not care to keep, that will cause him no pain when he bends his head. Everyone loves him,” he went on gently, seeing his wife grow pale. “Ptah created a miracle in your womb, Itu, and there he sits, with his huge dark eyes like yours, and his black hair and the sheen of perfection on his skin. Tomorrow my brother Ker will come, and Heruben, bringing a small mountain of gifts for him, not just because he is four but also because their affection for him has no bounds. And is he grateful? Not any longer. He is becoming selfish and greedy. He begins to accept everything as his right. That evil seed must not be allowed to grow.”
    “You and your plants!” Itu choked. “Surely you exaggerate! It is natural for a baby to want to hold on to the things that make him happy. We have not explained to him the importance of the sacrifice he is expected to make, that’s all. Explain it and he will run to his room and prepare to give the god his paints or his big ball instead. He has a generous heart, my husband! He does!”
    “No, I don’t think so,” Hapu said slowly. “How has it been possible for him to express this generosity? He is our only child. His world is made up of adoring adults and the creatures of the garden and the orchards. It is too late to change the gift. The choice has been made, and made from a self-centredness that bodes ill for his future. We have not raised him sensibly,” he finished, shaking his head. “However Khenti-kheti receives the skittles, whether to reward the outward act or punish the inward holding-back, the die is cast.”
    Huy had been listening to this interchange with increasing dread. His glance flicked between his parents. His father had bitten into the fleshy fruit of a fig and was placing the stem on his plate. His mother’s hands had disappeared under the edge of the table. She looked mutinous.
    “Am I really going to school, Father?” Huy demanded. “Ishat told me so, but I didn’t believe her.” Suddenly the wine was making his throat sting. “Father? I don’t want to go to school! The chief gardener’s little boys go to school and they get beaten all the time! School is for stupid children! I’m not stupid!” He had not understood most of the words his father had used, but his mother’s last outburst seemed clear enough. He had better exchange the skittles for something else. “If you think that the god won’t want my skittles, then he can have my toy dog,” he put in hopefully. “I don’t care.” His parents ignored him. Neither of them even looked his way.
    He began to cry, crawling across the floor and clambering onto Itu’s lap. His arms went around her neck. “Mother, don’t make me go!” he sobbed. “Please don’t! I’ll be good, I promise! I won’t tease Hapzefa anymore and I won’t run away when you call me and I won’t keep asking for water at night when I don’t want to go to sleep!” Her arms tightened protectively around him.
    “See what you’ve done, Hapu?” she said. “Surely there could have been a better way!”
    Her husband got up and, coming around the table, squatted beside them. His hand went to his son’s head and he kissed the hot little cheek. “Many boys from poor families cannot go to school, Huy, and so they remain poor all their lives, hefting stone and making bricks. Their lives are shortened. Their bodies break. All because they cannot read and write. I am not sending you to the school in town. Your uncle Ker recognizes your aptitude and has offered to meet all your expenses at the temple school in Iunu. It is