In the ancient days of the land of Kemet, where the Nile flows as a silver vein through the desert, there lived two brothers of remarkable character. The elder was named Anpu, a man of great strength and responsibility who possessed a household and a wife. The younger was Bata, a youth of unmatched vigor and skill who served his brother with a devotion that was the envy of all the neighbors. Bata was not merely a laborer; he possessed a mystical connection with the animals of the fields. He understood the language of the cattle, and under his care, the cows grew fat and the harvests were more bountiful than any in Memphis. Each day, he would follow the plow and lead the herds, returning at sunset to the home of Anpu, bearing the gifts of the earth. For many years, the brothers lived in harmony, their bond forged in the heat of the Egyptian sun and the shared labor of the soil.
However, shadow crept into this idyllic life through the heart of Anpu's wife. One afternoon, while the brothers were working in the fields, Anpu sent Bata back to the house to fetch a fresh supply of seed. When Bata entered the granary, Anpu's wife was struck by his youthful beauty and tried to entice him to stay with her. Bata, a man of pure integrity, was horrified by her request. He rebuked her, comparing her to a mother and Anpu to a father, and vowed never to speak of her transgression to anyone. He then shouldered the heavy sacks of grain and returned to the field to finish his work. Fearful that Bata would eventually tell his brother, the wife devised a cruel plan. She bruised herself, disheveled her hair, and lay in bed, pretending that Bata had attacked her when she refused his advances.
When Anpu returned home that evening, he found his wife in a state of distress. She told him a web of lies, claiming that Bata had sought to betray him. Consumed by a blind rage, Anpu sharpened his spear and hid behind the door of the stable, waiting to kill his brother. But the cattle, who loved Bata, whispered a warning as they entered the stalls. They told Bata to flee, for his brother stood waiting with a weapon. Bata looked beneath the stable door and saw the feet of Anpu. He turned and fled toward the desert, with Anpu in hot pursuit. In his desperation, Bata cried out to Re-Harakhti, the god of the rising sun, to judge between the innocent and the guilty. The god heard his plea and caused a great river filled with crocodiles to spring up between the two brothers, halting Anpu's chase.
From the opposite bank, Bata shouted the truth to his brother. To prove his sincerity and his renunciation of the life he once knew, Bata performed a shocking act of self-mutilation, casting his manhood into the river. He told Anpu that he was going to the Valley of the Cedar, a distant and magical land. There, he would place his heart on the highest flower of a great cedar tree. He told Anpu that if the tree were ever cut down, his heart would fall to the earth, and he would die. Anpu would know this had happened if a jar of beer given to him suddenly foamed over. Filled with remorse, Anpu returned home and punished his wife, while Bata journeyed into the lonely wilderness of the Valley of the Cedar.
For many seasons, Bata lived alone in the valley, hunting wild beasts and building a life in the solitude of the trees. The Ennead, the nine great gods of Egypt, looked down upon him with pity. Re-Harakhti said to Khnum, the divine potter, 'Fashion a wife for Bata, so that he may not be alone.' Khnum took the clay of the Nile and molded a woman of such staggering beauty that she possessed the essence of every god within her. However, the Seven Hathors, who decree the fate of all mortals, prophesied that she would die a sharp death. Bata loved his new wife dearly, but she was a creature of vanity and secrets. He warned her never to go near the sea, for the waters might carry her away, and he told her the secret of his heart hidden in the cedar blossom.