Three Novels of Ancient Egypt

by Naguib Mahfouz

  She had seen him before, on the day of the grand coronation a few months previously. He was standing in his chariot as he had today, tall and exceedingly handsome as he gazed into the distant horizon. That day she had wished, as she had wished today, that his eye might fall upon her.

  She wondered why. Was it because she longed for her beauty to win the honor and esteem it deserved, or was it because she wanted deep down inside to see him as a human being, after having beheld him in all the sacredness of the gods, as one deserving of her worship? How would one ever understand such a longing, and did it really matter? For whatever its true nature, she wished it honestly, and she wished it with sincerity and great desire.

  The courtesan remained absorbed in her reverie for a while, blissfully unaware of her small entourage struggling to make its way through the heaving crowd, and paying not the slightest attention to the thousands who, greedily and with great savoring, almost swallowed her up. She was carried onto her barge and stepped off the palanquin and into the cabin, where she sat down upon her small throne as if in a trance, hearing but not listening, looking but not seeing. The boat slipped through the calm waters of the Nile until it berthed at the steps leading up into the garden of her white palace, the pearl of the island of Biga.

  The palace could be seen at the far end of the lush garden, which stretched right down to the banks of the river. It was surrounded by sycamores, and tall palm trees swayed in the breeze above so that it looked like a white flower blossoming in a luxuriant bower. She walked down the gangplank and stepped on to the polished marble stairway that led up between two granite walls into the garden. On either side were high obelisks engraved with the fine poetry of Ramon Hotep. Finally she reached the velvet lawns of the garden.

  She passed through a limestone gateway upon which her name was carved in the sacred language. Set in the middle was a life-size statue of herself, sculpted by Henfer. The time he had spent working on it had been the happiest days of his life. He had depicted her sitting upon her throne as she was wont to do when receiving her guests. He had brilliantly captured the extraordinary beauty of her face, the firmness of her breasts, and her delicate feet. She emerged on a path lined on either side with trees whose branches had met and intertwined to shade those strolling below from the sun with a ceiling of flowers and green leaves. The ground was covered with grass and herbs, and to the right and left, other paths of the same description led off, those on the right to the garden's south wall and those on the left to its north wall. The path she had taken led to a vineyard where grapes clambered over trellises set on marble columns. A wood of sycamore spread out to her right and a grove of palms to her left, wherein had been built here and there pens for monkeys and gazelles, while statues and obelisks stood all around the borders, which seemed to extend as far as the eye could see.

  Finally her feet led her to a pool of clear water. Lotus plants grew around the edges, and geese and ducks glided across the surface, while birds sang in the trees and the sweet smell of perfume mingled in the air with the nightingale's song.

  She walked halfway around the pool and stood before the summer room. A number of her slave girls were there to wait upon her, and they bowed reverently as she entered, then stood awaiting her orders. The courtesan lay her body down on a shaded couch to rest, but she could not sit still for long and she jumped to her feet, shouting to her slave girls, “The people's hot breaths annoyed me. And the heat, how it exhausted me. Take off my clothes. I want to feel the cool water of the pool against my body.”

  The first slave girl approached her mistress and gently removed the veil which was woven with golden threads from eternal Memphis. Then two others came up and took off her silk cape to reveal a translucent chemise that covered her body from just above the breasts to below the knees. Two more slave girls followed and with gentle hands removed the lucky blouse to dazzle the world with the body now set free, in whose creation all the gods had joined, and in which each had demonstrated his art and ability.

  Another slave girl approached and took out the clips from her jet-black hair, which cascaded over her body, covering it from her neck to her wrists. She bent over to untie her golden sandals and placed them by the edge of the pool. Her body swayed as she strode slowly down the marble steps into the water, which covered first her feet, then her legs and thighs, until she was immersed entirely in the still water, which took in the body's sweet smell and gave it cool peace in return. Relaxing, she surrendered to the water and let it caress her as she splashed and played without a care in the world. She swam for a long time, sometimes on her back, then on her belly, or on one of her sides.

  She would have remained there in sweet oblivion had not a sudden scream of terror from her slave girls rung in her ears. She stopped swimming and, turning toward them, was just in time to see a huge falcon swoop down by the edge of the pool. The bird flapped its wings and Rhadopis let out a shriek of terror. She dived under the water shaking with fear, and with enormous effort she held her breath until she felt her lungs would burst. When she could bear it no longer, she raised her head cautiously out of the water and looked around nervously. She saw no trace of the bird, but when she looked up at the sky she could just make out the falcon nearing the horizon. She swam quickly to the side of the pool and staggered up the steps in a state of shock. She put on one of her sandals but then could not find the other and she looked for it awhile before she asked, “Where is the other one?”

  “The falcon took it,” said the slave girls nervously.

  A look of sadness crossed her face but she did not have the time to express her distress, for she hurried into the summer room with the slave girls all around her drying droplets of water that shone like pearls off the ivory skin of her succulent body.

  As sunset approached, Rhadopis prepared to receive her guests. Their numbers grew greatly during the days of the festival, which drew people to the South from all over the land, and she dressed in her most beautiful clothes and put on her finest jewelry. Then she left the mirror for the reception hall to await their arrival, for it was time for them to be shown in.

  The hall was a gem of art and architecture. It had been built by the architect Heni, who had designed an oval structure, constructing the walls of granite like the houses of the gods, and dressing them with a layer of flint, colored with delightful pigments. The ceiling was vaulted and adorned with pictures and intricate designs, and from it hung lamps embellished with silver and gold.

  The sculptor Henfer had decorated the walls and her lovers had competed with one another to furnish it, presenting her with fine chairs, sumptuous couches, and beautiful feathers. Rhadopis's throne was the most wonderful of all these works of art, made from the richest ivory. Its legs were elephant tusks and its seat was of pure gold encrusted with emeralds and sapphires. It had been given to her by the governor of the island of Biga.

  Rhadopis did not wait for long before one of her slaves entered and announced the arrival of Master Anin, the ivory merchant. The man entered immediately and rushed over in his flowing robes, proudly showing off his false hair. Behind him came a slave carrying a gilded ivory box. He set it down near the courtesan's chair and went out of the hall. The merchant bowed over Rhadopis's hand and kissed her fingertips. She smiled at him and said in her sweet voice, “Welcome, Master Anin. How are you? We really should see you more often. It has been so long.”

  The man laughed. He was delighted, and said, “What can I do, my lady? Such is the life I have chosen for myself, or — which the Fates have decreed for me, that I should always be traveling the roads. A wanderer am I, hopping from country to country. I spend half the year in Nubia and the other half between the North and the South, buying and selling, selling and buying, always on the move.”

  She looked at the ivory box and still smiling asked, “What is this beautiful box? Could it be one of your precious gifts?”

  “Not the box exactly, but rather what is inside it. It is from the tusk of a wild elephant. The Nub
ian trader I bought it from swore that four of his strongest men were killed trying to bring the beast down. I kept it in a safe place and never showed it to customers. Then when I rested up awhile in Tanis, I delivered it into the hands of the town's skilled craftsmen and they lined it with a layer of pure gold and gilded it on the outside so that it became a goblet fit only for kings to drink from. I said to myself, ‘How fitting that this cup that has cost valuable lives should be given to her for whose sake no effort should be spared, if she would accept.’ “

  Rhadopis laughed politely and said, “Why thank you, Master Anin. Your gift, despite its great value, is not so beautiful as your words.”

  He was overjoyed and, staring at her with eyes full of admiration and yearning, said in a faint voice, “How beautiful you are, how ravishing. Every time I return from my travels I find you more ravishing and more beautiful than I left you. It seems to me as if time's only task is to enhance and magnify your unrivaled pulchritude.”

  She listened to him lauding her beauty as one listens to a familiar tune, and thinking she would enjoy a little sarcasm, she asked him, “How are your sons?”

  He felt a twinge of disappointment and he was silent for a moment, then, bending over the box, he raised its lid. She could see the goblet resting on its side. “How biting your humor is, my lady,” he said as he looked up at her. “And yet you will not find a single white hair on my head. Could anyone, having set eyes upon your face, retain in his heart the slightest affection for another woman?”

  She did not answer but continued to smile. Then she invited him to be seated, and he sat down near to her. Immediately after, she received a group of merchants and land owners, some of whom frequented her palace every evening and others who she saw only at festivals and on special occasions, but she welcomed them all with her captivating smile. Then she espied the slim figure of the sculptor Henfer enter the hall with his tight curly hair and flat nose, and his Adam's apple protruding gently. He was one man whose company she enjoyed, and she extended her hand, which he kissed with deep affection.

  “You lazy artist,” she teased.

  Henfer was not enamored of the description. “I finished my work in no time,” he said.

  “What about the summer room?”

  “It is all that remains to be decorated. I'm afraid I have to tell you that I will not decorate it myself.”

  Rhadopis looked surprised.

  “I am traveling to Nubia the day after tomorrow,” Henfer explained. “My mother is sick and has sent a messenger requesting to see me. I have no alternative but to go.”

  “May the gods relieve her pain and yours.”

  Henfer thanked her and said, “Do not think I have forgotten the summer room. Tomorrow my most outstanding pupil, Benamun Ben Besar, will come to see you. He will decorate it in the most beautiful fashion. I trust him as I trust myself. I trust you will welcome him and offer him your encouragement.”

  She thanked him for his kind attention and promised him she would do as he asked.

  The stream of visitors continued. The architect Heni arrived, followed by Ani, the governor of the island, and a little while later, the poet Ramon Hotep. The last one to arrive was the philosopher Hof, who had until recently been the grand professor at the university in On, and who had returned to Abu, his place of birth, after reaching the age of seventy. Rhadopis was constantly teasing him. “Why is it that whenever I see you I want to kiss you?” she exclaimed.

  “Perhaps, my lady, it is because you are fond of antiques,” replied the philosopher dryly.

  A group of slave girls entered carrying silver bowls filled with sweet perfume and garlands of lotus flowers, and they anointed the head, hands, and chest of each guest with perfume and gave him a lotus flower.

  Rhadopis spoke in a loud voice, “Would you like to know what happened to me today?”

  They all turned toward her eager to hear, and the hall fell silent. She smiled and said, “While I was bathing at noon today, a falcon swooped down and stole one of my golden sandals and flew away with it.”

  Smiles of surprise appeared on their faces, and the poet Ramon Hotep said, “Seeing you naked in the water has unhinged the birds of prey.”

  “I'll swear by Almighty Sothis that the falcon is wishing he had carried off the owner of the sandal instead,” said Anin excitedly.

  “It was so very dear to me,” said Rhadopis sadly.

  “It is truly distressing that something should be lost that has enjoyed your touch for days and weeks, and its only fate in the end will be to fall from the sky. Imagine if it falls into a remote field and a simple peasant's foot slips it on,” said Henfer.

  “Whatever its fate will be,” said Rhadopis sadly, “I will never see it again.”

  The philosopher Hof was surprised to see Rhadopis so upset about a simple sandal, and he consoled her, saying, “In any case, the falcon carrying off your sandal is a good omen, so do not be sad.”

  “What happiness does Rhadopis lack when all these men are her lovers?” asked one of the guests, who was an important official.

  Hof looked at him sternly. “She would be happier if she got rid of some of them,” he said.

  Another group of slave girls entered bearing jugs of wine and golden goblets. They moved among the throng, and wherever the signs of thirst appeared, they would pour the guest a brimming cup to slake the dryness in his mouth and fuel the fire in his heart. Rhadopis rose slowly to her feet, walked over to the ivory box, and held up the wonderful goblet. Then, holding it out to the slave who was bearing the wine, she said, “Let us drink a toast to Master Anin for his beautiful gift, and his safe return.”

  They all drank to the man's health. Anin emptied his cup in one swallow, and nodded to Rhadopis with a profound look of gratitude in his eyes. Then, turning to his friend, he said, “Is it not a most fortunate occurrence that the mention of my name should trip upon the tongue of Rhadopis?”

  “Amen to that,” said the man, at which point Governor Ani, who knew Master Anin and had spotted him earlier, and knowing he had been in the South, said, “Welcome back Anin. How was your trip this time?”

  Anin bowed respectfully, and said, “May the gods preserve you from every evil, my Lord Governor, this time I did not go beyond the region of Wawayu. It was a successful journey, most fruitful and rewarding.”

  “And how is His Excellency, Kaneferu, governor of the South?”

  “The truth is that His Excellency is greatly vexed by the rebellion of the Maasayu tribes, for they harbor great hatred toward Egyptians. They lie in wait for them, and if they come upon a caravan, they attack it without mercy, kill the men, steal the goods, and then escape before the Egyptian forces can apprehend them.”

  The governor looked concerned and asked the merchant, “Why does His Excellency not send a punitive expedition against them?”

  “His Excellency is always sending forces after them, but the tribes do not confront battle formations. They flee into the desert and the jungles and our troops are obliged to return to base when their supplies run out. Then the rebels resume their raids on the caravan routes.”

  The philosopher Hof listened to the words of Anin with great interest, for he had some experience of the land of Nubia and he was well acquainted with the Maasayu question.

  “Why are the Maasayu always in revolt?” he inquired of the merchant. “Those lands under Egyptian rule enjoy peace and prosperity. We do not oppose the creeds of others. Why are they hostile to us?”

  Anin — was not concerned to know the reasons. He believed it was the value of the merchandise that tempted folk to swoop down upon it. Governor Ani, however, had made a thorough study of these matters. “The truth, esteemed professor,” he said to the philosopher, “is that the Maasayu question has nothing to do with politics or religion. The reality of the matter is that they are nomadic tribes living in a desolate and barren land. They are threatened by starvation on occasion, and at the same time they possess treasure of gold and silver th
at cannot enrich them or fend off their hunger, and when the Egyptians undertake to put it to good use, they attack them and plunder their caravans.”

  “If that is the case,” said Hof, “then punitive attacks are of no use. I recall, my Lord Governor, that Minister Una, may his soul be exalted in the realm of Osiris, at one time expended great effort to secure a treaty with them based on mutual benefit; he would provide them with food and they in return would guarantee the safety of the caravan routes. It seems a shrewd idea, does it not?”

  The governor nodded his head in agreement.

  “Prime Minister Khnumhotep resurrected Minister Una's plan and signed the treaty a few days before the festival of the Nile. We shall not know the results of his policy for a long time, though many are optimistic.”

  The guests soon tired of politics and split up into smaller groups, each one vying for Rhadopis's attention. She, however, had been intrigued by the name Khnumhotep and remembered the voice in the crowd that had shouted out his name earlier in the day. She felt the same shock and disapproval she had at that moment, and anger rose in her breast. She moved over to where Ani was sitting with Hof, Henfer, Heni, and Ramon Hotep. “Did you hear that amazing cry today?” she asked softly.

  Those who frequented the white palace were brothers. No pretensions stood between them and no fear stayed their tongues. Their conversations broached every subject with the utmost candor and lack of inhibition. Hof had been heard criticizing the policies of the ministers many times, — while Ramon Hotep had expressed his doubts and fears about the teaching of theology, openly declaring his epicurean beliefs, and calling for the enjoyment of-worldly things.

  Master Architect Heni drank a draught from his cup, and looking into Rhadopis's beautiful face, said, “It was a bold and audacious call, the like of which has not been heard in the Nile Valley before.”

  “Indeed,” said Henfer. “No doubt it was a sad surprise to young Pharaoh so soon into his reign.”

  “It has never been the custom to call out a person's name, — whatever his position might be, in the presence of Pharaoh,” said Hof quietly.