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as his. But he stared openly at the older boys and wondered if one day his own penis would be as round and dangling.
    One of those older boys was hurrying towards Harnakht, towing a much smaller child about Huy’s own age, he thought. “This is my friend Kay,” Harnakht said, “and his charge, Thothmes. How is he getting on, Kay?”
    Kay rolled his eyes. “He has no sense of direction. Three times already I’ve had to rescue him from the temple corridor because he went the wrong way after leaving the bathhouse. I hope you will do better!” His eyes were on Huy.
    Harnakht introduced them and turned to Thothmes. “This is my charge, Huy. In a month you two will be sharing a cell and Kay and I can go back to raiding the kitchen in the middle of the night.”
    “I was named Thothmes after our great King,” Thothmes told Huy with a weighty dignity.
    Kay laughed. “He says that to everybody he meets for the first time. You’re a solemn little thing, aren’t you, Thothmes? Well, we must return to our cell.”
    Obediently the boy took his hand and they moved away, but Thothmes looked back. “I am glad there is another new boy in the school, and I look forward to sharing with you, Huy,” he called.
    “His manners are excellent,” Harnakht commented. “He bows to every adult regardless of their station. He even bowed to me when I first met him. His father is the Governor of this sepat, the thirteenth of Lower Egypt, and rightly regards a good education as the most important asset for any child. He could go home every afternoon, but his parents want him to enjoy everything the school has to offer. He is rather a pet in a humourless kind of way.”
    Huy resolved at once that he would also make himself a pet. He had never been taught to bow to anyone but Khenti-kheti’s priest. Thothmes’ delicacy had given him pause.
    The bathhouse, a short way along the corridor behind the Holiest of Holiest and just within another compound, was a large room with a sloping stone floor. Great urns filled with water and smaller ones containing oil hugged the walls. A pile of linens of different sizes sat on a long table. Three boys stood drying themselves and talking loudly, their voices echoing in the humid air. Huy drew it in with pleasure. Iunu’s atmosphere was drier than the air of his home and carried fewer scents, which he now realized he had been missing.
    “I am going to leave you here for a while,” Harnakht said. “Take up one of those ladles, douse yourself with water, grab a handful of natron from the bowl, and scrub yourself thoroughly. But I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how to wash yourself. And don’t forget to oil your lock! Can you find your way back to our cell?”
    Huy nodded. Unlike Thothmes the pet , he thought scornfully. In truth he was already slightly jealous of Thothmes.
    When Harnakht had gone, Huy self-consciously approached one of the urns, ladle in hand, aware of the strange boys still chattering together on the farther side of the chamber, but they did not so much as glance at him. The urn was as tall as he. Standing on tiptoe, he was able to scoop out enough water to wet himself. He had expected it to be cold, but it was lukewarm. I suppose , he thought as he plunged a hand into the natron, that it is brought to the bathhouse hot and those who dawdle like we did must miss its comfort . He managed the remainder of the chore tolerably well, awkwardly rubbing oil onto whatever parts of his body he could reach, and he did not forget to draw some through his new youth lock. His head felt as though it kept wanting to fall to one side, but he knew that, when he became used to the one piece of hair he had left, its lopsided weight would cease to bother him.
    He found his way back to his cell and struggled into the fresh loincloth and kilt he found waiting on his cot. The quality of the linen was higher than his own. The exercise was becoming easier and he was briefly grateful to his uncle for