Neheti's Brother - A Short Children's Story
NEHETI’S BROTHER
A Short Children’s Story
Jean Daniel
Copyright 2026
All Rights Reserved.
NEHETI’S BROTHER
Neheti
lived with her family in Alexandria, Egypt, a bright white city that sat
between the marshes of the
Now, in
He ate
and played and napped alongside the sons of the Pharaoh, and saw the pretty
princesses in their jeweled costumes, and the mysterious visitors from other
lands. Minu did all this, while Neheti stayed at home.
Every
morning her mother would say: “Come, Neheti, bid your brother goodbye, and wish
him well in his work.”
Neheti
would do as she was asked, then she would run frowning to the kitchen, where
the cook, Nani, would give her a honeycake and a slice of melon for her misery.
“Why must
I stay here, Nani, while Minu goes to the palace?”
“We all
have our jobs to do, little one. But why do you worry? Your mother has taught
you well. Can you not read the writing on the temple walls? And you know the
name of every Pharaoh, going back a hundred years. You know more than I, and I
am a grown woman!”
“It is
not so much the learning,” Neheti pouted. “It is the palace. I want to see the
palace, to be inside it. To see what Minu does there.”
“You
shouldn’t be so jealous of your brother,” Nani scolded.
“I’m not.
I just want to see the palace.”
The next
morning, Minu went off, as usual, while Neheti sat with her mother, Nefera, on
their sunny porch, learning to read the picture words called hieroglyphics.
Other
mornings, she would learn to sew with golden threads, to make beautiful
gossamer tunics for the ladies who lived in the palace.
“Why
can’t we go to the palace, Mother?”
“Always
the same question, Neheti. The palace school is for your brother, and the other
boys who wish to be scribes, the keepers of records.”
“Why
can’t I be a scribe?
“Isn’t it
time for your cooking lesson?”
Neheti
sighed. “Yes, Mother.”
Neheti
went to the kitchen, where she helped Nani with baking the flat bread, and
plucking the geese for roasting, and basting a duck with honey and spice, all
the while thinking of her brother at the palace.
The next
day, after Minu left, Neheti and Liti the housekeeper walked to the city market
to buy food and to barter for precious, glittering fabrics and fragrant oils
from other lands.
In the
afternoon, Neheti sat down with Tana-khi, the weaver, who taught her to weave
colorful rugs and bed covers and curtains for the windows.
Neheti
had just finished a bed cover for Minu. She took it to his bedroom and laid it
on his bed. While there, she noticed one of his tunics, draped across a chair.
“That
gives me an idea,” she thought, and sneaked the tunic to her room.
Things
went along as always the next morning, except that, once Minu had left, Neheti
crept upstairs to her room, and put on his tunic.
Egyptian
children had mostly shaven heads, with boys wearing one lock of braided hair,
while girls wore three longer braids.
Neheti
untied her hair, twisted it into one long cord, hoping no one would look close
enough to tell any difference.
She made
her way to the palace, slipping through the tight crowds on the sidewalks of the
tree-lined streets.
Gilded
horse-drawn chariots and lowly wooden wagons pulled by mules paraded through
the city, carrying their masters to villas and markets and temples and shops.
Everyone
had a place to go, but no one seemed to hurry, no one but Neheti.
She
reached the outer gates of the palace, fell in with some schoolboys, and
entered without trouble.
Up the
steps they went, passing all sorts of guards and soldiers with gleaming swords
and sharp-edged spears at their sides.
Neheti’s
heart shook, fear pushing her through the sunlit halls.
A group
of young girls, perhaps the Pharaoh’s daughters, all in silken gowns, their
throats banded with gold and rainbows of jewels, giggled at the schoolboys as
they stumbled by. Neheti was thrilled to see them, wondered what it must be
like to live as they did, in that shiny, magical palace.
She
followed the boys into a bright room, where other boys sat on mats on the
floor. Minu was there, his head bent down as he wrote upon a sheet of papyrus,
a coarse, thick paper made from the reeds which grew by the river
Neheti
ducked behind the huge statue of a scribe, a man who wrote everything down, to
keep records, for history, a very important job for a man of
Neheti
curled up behind the statue, waited to see what wonderful things Minu would do
during the day.
The boys
wrote their picture words over and over, until it was time for lunch. Then a
trio of servant girls served them food in the nearby courtyard, wonderful
platters of fruit and bread and honey, while Neheti still hid, her belly
growling.
Afterwards,
the boys played games in the courtyard, chasing and tumbling and laughing
aloud, while Neheti still hid, her legs tired, and cramping.
The boys
returned to their writing, as the day lingered on. Neheti still hid, her eyes
weary. She soon fell asleep, curled up behind the statue.
There was
a horrible crash. Neheti woke, found herself lying on the floor, the shattered
statue in pieces about her.
All the
boys were standing around her, pointing and laughing.
The
teacher was angry, shouting at them.
Minu, his
face red as beets, grabbed Neheti’s hand and pulled her up off the floor.
“Who is
this, Minu?” the teacher asked.
“My sister,”
Minu admitted, embarrassed.
“What are
you doing here, Minu’s sister?”
Neheti
brushed herself off, glanced round at all the laughing faces. She took a deep
breath, held her head up high.
“I wanted
to see the palace, to see what Minu did here. And now that I have seen it, I
want to do it, too!”
“What?”
the teacher exclaimed. “YOU want to be a scribe?”
“Yes,
sir, I do!”
“But
girls can’t be scribes!” a boy laughed.
“And why
not?” asked Minu. “Neheti can write very well. She can read, she can sew, and
cook, and weave. She even made a cover for my bed that is beautiful.”
Neheti
looked shyly at her brother.
“You
liked the bed cover?”
“Yes,
very much.” He turned to the teacher. “Sir, why can’t Neheti be a scribe?”
The
teacher could offer no reason. So Neheti stayed there, and a messenger was sent
to Nefera, to tell her where her daughter was, and that she was all right.
And when
time came to go home, Neheti and Minu walked together, proudly.
“Thank
you, Minu,” Neheti smiled, “for asking the teacher to let me stay.”
“That’s
okay. But...” he paused, “could you do something for me?”
“What?”
“Teach me
how to weave a bed cover like the one you made for me?”
“I will.
Just as Tana-khi taught me!”
“You
know,” Minu said, “I always imagined that you sat home, playing with Mew Mew’s
kittens, or with Beba the monkey. I wished I could stay home, too, and play.
But then I saw that you did so many other things, things I can learn, too.”
Neheti nodded and smiled again.
They
reached home, laughing together, and scurried in to see their mother, who was
frowning.
“Neheti,
child! Why were you at the palace?”
“I am
sorry that I worried you, Mother, but I was learning to be a scribe!”
“You? A
scribe? Well, I’m not surprised. You could always do anything you put your mind
to. Is it hard work, to be a scribe?”
“It is,”
Minu said, “but I will help her learn.”
“Yes, and
I will teach him to weave a bed cover, for you. But, for now, let’s run out to
the marshes, and play with Mew Mew’s kittens and Beba the monkey.”
“Could
we, Mother?” Minu asked.
“Of
course. It is still awhile before dinner. But mind you stay clear of the
water.”
"We will,
Mother.” they promised together.
They ran
out to the marshes, where Mew Mew’s kittens played at battle, and Beba the
monkey turned flips, and snatched bites of melon slices right out of their
mouths.
THE END
Comments
Post a Comment