There was once a story of two people, a man and a woman not so different from the classic tale of love and devotion. The girl went by the name of Mara and her lover was Heru. But this story doesn’t start with the man and woman; no, it starts with two children who merely liked to play together.
Mara’s nurse was pulling her hair out again. The hellion child that she had been paid to look after was missing again! This was the last straw, “Mara! Little demon, if you don’t come here now I’m telling your mother!”
But as usual, no one answered. Sabba sighed, she could never tell the Lady. She loved Mara too much, and so did her mistress. Telling her this would only worry her. Sabba already knew where Mara was anyway.
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“Come on Mara! Keep up!” shouted the boy.
Mara hitched her skirts up and tried to follow quickly, “Wait Heru! You’re too fast!”
“Dummy!” but Mara looked up and she could see his mouth curving in a grin.
“Hurry up or we’ll miss it!”
“Miss what?” Just then Mara reached the top of the ridge and her breath was stolen from her chest. From their vantage point, they could see every aspect of the bay where the ships docked. It was always amazing to see as ships pulled in and out of the harbour.
“There! Father!” shouted Heru waving frantically.
Mara struggled to locate Heru’s father, “Where is he?”
“There,” said Heru pointing to a glint that came from a ship, “He’s signaling us!”
Interrupting them came the sound of a horn. Mara gasped, “Come on Heru! We’re gonna be late!” Scrabbling down the dirt the children raced to the clay brick house that served as a teaching house.
Sabba caught Mara on the way, “Where were you child? You’re late!”
Mara’s voice was full of apology as she said, “I know Sabba! I’m sorry, we forgot the time.” Mara tried to wiggle her way from Sabba’s grasp as the older woman tried to wipe the dirt from her charge’s face to follow Heru who had already entered the building.
In the end, she made it just on time. An aisle with cushions and slates on either side divided the room. On one side, sat the children of the nobles and successful merchants, this was where Mara sat. The other side sat children of labourers, fishermen and craftsmen who could afford to send their children there. That was where Heru sat.
The wise man came in and set their tasks, ordering them to work. As they wane through their calligraphy, he walked around checking and correcting their work, in his hand a switch. He stopped at Heru.
“What do you think you are doing? Is this the work I set you?” the wise man demanded, the switch came down hard on Heru’s slate. He always had trouble with this boy who never paid attention in class yet produced exceptional work.
“I ask you to write your words and what do I see instead? Mara, Mara, Mara! Is that the only word you know?” When the boy didn’t respond, to further ingrain the lesson the teacher said, “Your hands.”
Heru knew what was to happen; he’d seen it far too many times before. Palms faced up, he steeled himself for the pain.
FWAP! FWAP! The reed came down swift and painful. He was up to his fifth, tears streaming down his face when suddenly, “STOP!”
Mara latched onto the man’s arm. Their teacher was so surprised he actually stopped. Mara dropped to the floor where Heru sat. As she used the shawl that covered her head to wipe his tears she murmured soft words to him. The teacher watched them, then went over to his desk and pulled a sheet of papyrus over.
- - - - -
“Where shall we go today, Heru? Could we go see your father?” asked Mara.
“Sure! He would love – Father! What are you doing here?” Heru ran to embrace his father. Mara tried to follow after him but was restrained. When she looked up she was surprised, “Father?” There was something wrong, her father was never this serious without cause.
“Come Mara, let’s go home.”
She pulled back, “No I want to go with Heru and play!”
Heru turned. When he saw Mara’s father pulling her away he tried to go to her, only to be held back by his own father. Shouting and screaming each other’s name, the friends were ripped apart. That was the last time they saw each other for years.
- - - - -
That day, their families had explained to them why the decision must be so. For Mara, being the daughter of a trader, she was expected to marry into a prosperous family. Mingling with commoners would tarnish their family name. Heru was told that being the son of a common worker, there were social rules and constraints they were expected to follow and never to let their hopes fly beyond that. As such, Mara was forbidden to one such as he, as a friend or anything more.
Years passed. Heru grew up and by the time he was sixteen seasons old, he left with a caravan as an assistant to a merchant. Slowly over the years, he gathered his wages, hoarding his wealth that he used to help his mother and father back on the shores of the Nile.
The blistering Egyptian sun also witnessed Mara’s growth to womanhood. She became a very beautiful girl and was golden hearted as well. Her preparation to organize a household didn’t stop each day. Her mother became her trusted friend and she and her other friends often indulged in frivolities as most young women did.
Both had forgotten each another; the bond that had caused them to feel as two parts of one whole lay dormant. And gradually, each moved on.
- - - - -
Mara pulled her skirts up to ease her running as she made her way to the bazaar. The blue scarf pinned to her pitch black streaming hair blew out behind her. Her skippered feet made light patters on the dirt road as she wove her way through the crowd.
Everyone came out every week for the bazaar like the termites crawling out of the woodwork. Rushing to the square where all the entertainment was to be had.
“Mara! Mara!”
She stopped for a moment listening to the voice, ascertaining the direction. Then she was off again. Ducking, dodging, weaving until she reached her friends.
“Where were you? We were worried you wouldn’t come!” huffed Rehena.
Mara doubled over trying to catch her breath as she waved away all questions from her friends.
“We’d better get going if we want to see them,” said her other friend, Leda.
Together they pushed their way through the throng, it was not often the head of the dancers guild performed. Thus it was an opportunity not to be missed. They made it through the crush.
There, in the middle of the square was a raised stone dais, four feet off the ground. From the tempo of the music, they had just started. Through her dance, Mara stood awestruck; her movements were graceful and controlled. The dancer moved flawlessly, embodying the tragic tale she told with her actions, not a word passed her lips. The usual noise of the market was still there, but it faded into the background.
Once the dancer had finished, a lively tune kicked up. Anyone else who wanted to dance took that opportunity, milling about the dais while the dancer did the same on top. Mara, Rehena and Leda took that opportunity to join in. Somewhere along the way, Mara had been separated from them, but she danced still.
Until she bumped into someone. “Oh, I’m sor-”
She looked at the stranger’s face, “-ry” she finished pathetically.
A memory fluttered at the back of her mind, beckoning her to remember, and a bond snapped back into place.
Heru didn’t have to think long to remember Mara. She was very different from all those years ago, but the mischief in the eyes and the wild hair was the same. Her lips parted in a surprised pout as she recognized him for whom he was.
Embarrassed she averted her gaze and hurried off. Heru didn’t once let her out of his sight. He followed her, like a hungry man would follow the subtle scent of food. They played this game for a while. Then she went to a couple of girls who were at a jewelry stall. As he came up closer behind them, he could see she had just bought a pair of anklets.
Her wrist tipped back, the gold trailing from her fist. As she was about to move away, Heru reached out his hand and grasped one delicate chain. She spun her head to look at him. He smiled down at her as he slowly wound the ornament about his fingers. With her head bent and a smile on her face, Mara pulled away. That left Heru there in the middle of the marketplace, with an anklet in his hand and a stupid grin on his face.
(Part 2 to be continued in next issue)