Three Novels of Ancient Egypt Khufu's Wisdom

by Naguib Mahfouz

  Tahu stepped closer. “Rhadopis, what are you saying?” he implored.

  She was angry again. “Are you not ashamed, Commander, to incite me to flee from the countenance of your lord?” she mocked.

  Her biting sarcasm struck him deep in his heart, and he reeled from the shock. “My lord has not seen you yet, Rhadopis,” he blurted as he felt the bitterness rise in his throat. “As for me, my heart was wrested from me long ago. I am a prisoner of a turbulent love that knows no mercy, that leads me only to ruin and perdition, trampled under the feet of shame and degradation. My breast is a furnace of torment -which burns more fiercely at the thought of losing you forever. If then I urge you to flee, it is to defend my love, and not to betray His Sacred Majesty at all.”

  She paid no heed to his complaints, nor to his protestations of loyalty to his lord. She was still angry for her pride, and so when he asked her what she intended to do, she shook her head violently as if to dislodge the malicious whisperings that had taken hold there, and in a cold voice full of confidence, she said, “I will not flee, Tahu.”

  The man stood there, grave-faced, astonished, desperate. “Are you to be content with ignominy, prepared to accept humiliation?”

  “Rhadopis will never taste humiliation,” she said with a smile on her lips.

  Tahu was fuming. “Ah, I understand now. Your old devil has stirred. That devil of vanity and pride and power, that protects itself with the eternal coldness of your heart and relishes to see the pain and torment of others, and sits in judgment of men's fates. It heard Pharaoh's name and rebelled, and now it wishes to test its strength and power, and to prove the supremacy of its accursed beauty, without regard for the crippled hearts and broken spirits and shattered dreams it leaves in its demonic wake. Ah, why do I not put an end to this evil with a single thrust of this dagger?”

  She regarded him with a look of composure in her eyes. “I have never denied you anything, and always have I warned you about temptation.”

  “This dagger will suffice to calm my soul. What a fitting end it would be for Rhadopis.”

  “What a sorry end it would be for Tahu, commander of the royal forces,” she said calmly.

  His hard eyes looked at her for a long time. He felt, at that decisive moment, a sense of mortal despair and stifling loss, but he did not allow his anger to get the better of him, and in a cruel cold voice he said, “How ugly you are, Rhadopis. How repulsive and twisted an image you display. Whoever thinks you beautiful is blind, without vision. You are ugly because you are dead, and there is no beauty without life. Life has never flowed through your veins. Your heart has never been warm. You are a corpse with perfect features, but a corpse nevertheless. Compassion has not shone in your eyes, your lips have never parted in pain, nor has your heart felt pity. Your eyes are hard and your heart is made of stone. You are a corpse, damn you! I should hate you, and rue the day I ever loved you. I know well that you will dominate and control wherever your devil wishes you to. But one day you will be brought crashing to the ground, your soul shattered into many pieces. That is the end of everything. Why should I kill you then? Why should I carry the burden of murdering a corpse that is already dead?”

  With these words Tahu departed.

  Rhadopis listened to his heavy footfall until the silence of the night enveloped her. Then she went back to the window. The darkness was absolute and the stars looked down from their eternal banquet, and in the solemn all-encompassing silence, she thought she could hear secrets fluttering deep in her heart.

  There was a power in her, violent with heat and unrest. She was alive, her body throbbing with life, not a dead corpse.

  PHARAOH

  SHE OPENED her eyes and saw darkness. It must still be night. How many hours had she been able to find sleep and tranquility? For a few moments she was not aware of anything at all, she could remember nothing, as if the past was unknown to her just as the future is unknown, and the pitch-black night had consumed her identity. For a -while she felt bewildered and -weary, but then her eyes grew used to the dark and she could perceive a faint light creeping in through the curtains. She could make out the shapes of the furniture and she saw the hanging lamp coated in gold. Her senses suddenly became sharper and she remembered that she had remained awake, her eyelids not tasting sleep until the gentle blue -waves of dawn washed over her. Then she had lain on her bed and sleep had carried her away from her emotions and her dreams. If that were so, it would be well into the next day, or even its evening.

  She recalled the events of the previous night. The image of Tahu came back to her, fuming and raging, groaning with despair, threatening hatred and abomination. What a violent man he was, a bully with a brutal temper, madly infatuated. His only fault was that his love was stubborn and persistent, and he was deeply smitten. She sincerely hoped he would forget her or despise her. All she ever gained from love was pain. Everyone yearned for her heart and her heart remained unapproachable and aloof, like an untamed animal. How often she had been forced to plunge into disturbing scenarios and painful tragedies even though she hated it. But tragedy had followed her like a shadow, hovering around her like her deepest thoughts, spoiling her life with its cruelty and pain.

  Then she remembered what Tahu had said about young Pharaoh and how he had desired to see the woman the sandal belonged to, and that he would summon her eventually to join his thriving harem. Ah, Pharaoh -was a young man -with fire in his blood and impetuosity in his mind, or so she had been told. It was no wonder Tahu had said what he had, and it was not impossible to believe it either, but she wondered whether events might not take a different course. Her faith in herself knew no bounds.

  She heard a knock at the door. “Shayth,” she called lazily. “Come in.”

  The slave opened the door and, stepping into the room with her familiar nimble gait, said, “Lord have mercy on you, my lady. You must be famished.”

  Shayth opened the window. The light that came in was already fading. “The sun went down today without seeing you,” she laughed. “He wasted his journey to the earth.”

  “Is it evening?” asked Rhadopis, stretching and yawning.

  “Yes, my lady. Now, are you going to the perfumed water, or would you like to eat? It's a pity, but I know what kept you awake last night.”

  “What was it, Shayth?” asked Rhadopis with interest.

  “You did not warm your bed with a man.”

  “Stop it, you wicked woman.”

  “Men are always so forceful, my lady,” said the slave with a glint in her eye. “Otherwise you would never put up with their vanity.”

  “Enough of your nonsense, Shayth,” she said, then complained of a sore head.

  “Let us go to the bath,” said Shayth. “Your admirers are starting to assemble in the reception hall, and it pains them to see you are not there.”

  “Have they really come?”

  “Has the reception hall ever been empty of them at this hour?”

  “I will not see a single one of them.”

  Shayth's face went pale, and she looked at her mistress suspiciously. “You disappointed them yesterday. What will you say today? If only you knew how anxious they are at your tardiness.”

  “Tell them I am not well.”

  The slave girl hesitated, and was about to object, but Rhadopis yelled at her, “Do as I say!”

  The woman left the bedchamber in a fluster, -wondering -what had brought such a change over her mistress.

  Rhadopis was pleased with her response. She told herself that this was not the time for lovers, and in any case she could not muster her scattered thoughts to listen to anyone, nor form her ideas into any conversation, let alone dance or sing. Let them all be off. Still, she was afraid that Shayth would return with pleas and protestations from the guests and she got off the bed and hurried to the bathroom.

  Inside and alone, she wondered if Pharaoh would send for her that very evening. Yes, that was why she was so nervous and confused. Perhaps even afraid? But
no. Such beauty as hers, that no woman had ever possessed, was enough to fill her with boundless self-confidence. That is how she was. No man would resist her beauty. Her gorgeous looks would not be debased for a single soul, even if it were Pharaoh himself. But then why was she nervous and confused? The strange feeling came back to her, the one she had felt the previous night, and which she had first felt throb in her heart when she set eyes upon the young pharaoh as he stood like a statue in the back of his chariot. How magnificent he was! She wondered if she were confused because she stood before an enigma, an awesome and omnipotent name, a god worshipped by all. Was it because she wished to see him a passionate human being after she had beheld him in all his divine glory, or was she nervous because she wanted to be assured of her power in the face of this impregnable fortress?

  Shayth knocked on the bathroom door, and informed her that Master Anin had sent with her a letter for her lady. Rhadopis was furious and told Shayth to tear it up.

  The slave girl feared to incur her mistress's anger and she stumbled out of the room in disarray. Rhadopis emerged from the bathroom into the bedchamber, stunningly beautiful, flawlessly attired. She ate her food and drank a cup of fine vintage Maryut. But hardly had she relaxed on her couch than Shayth came running into the room without knocking. Rhadopis glared at her. “There is a strange man in the hall. He insists on meeting you,” said the frightened slave.

  “Have you gone completely mad?” cried Rhadopis in anger. “Have you joined forces against me with that bunch of tiresome men?”

  “Be patient a moment, my lady,” urged Shayth as she gasped for breath. “I showed out all the guests. This man is a stranger. I have not set eyes on him before. I stumbled upon him in the corridor leading to the hall. I do not know where he came from. I tried to block his way but he would not be swayed. He ordered me to inform you of his request.”

  Rhadopis looked gravely at her slave for a moment. “Is he an officer from the royal guard?” she asked with interest.

  “No, mistress. He does not wear the uniform of an officer. I asked him to tell me who he was, but he just shrugged his shoulders. I insisted you would not be receiving anyone today but he set little store by my words. He ordered me to inform you that he was waiting. Oh dear, my lady. I would have you think well of me, but he was insistent and audacious. I could find no way to deter him.”

  She wondered if it was an emissary from the king. Her heart missed a beat at the very thought, and her chest heaved. She ran to the mirror and inspected herself, then she twirled on the tips of her toes, her face still fixed on the mirror. “What do you see, Shayth?” she asked the slave.

  “I see Rhadopis, my lady,” replied Shayth, amazed at the change that had come over her mistress.

  Rhadopis left the bedchamber, leaving her bewildered slave in a daze. She floated like a dove from room to room and then descended the stairs, which were covered in sumptuous carpets. Then, pausing a moment at the entrance to the hall, she spotted a man with his back to her, his face toward the wall as he read the poetry of Ramon Hotep. Who could it be? He was as tall as Tahu but slimmer and more delicate, broad-shouldered, with beautiful legs. Across his back was a sash encrusted with jewels hanging down between his shoulders as far as his waist, and on his head he wore a beautiful tall helmet in the shape of a pyramid that did not look like the headgear of the priests. Who was it? He did not know she was there because her feet made no noise on the thick carpet. When she was only a few steps from him, she said, “My lord?”

  The stranger turned to look at her.

  “O Lord,” she gasped, as she realized she was standing face-to-face -with Pharaoh. Pharaoh himself in all his divine glory. Merenra the Second, none other.

  The surprise shook her to the core and she was totally overcome. She thought for a second it might be a dream, but there was no mistaking the dark face, the fine proud nose. She could never forget him. She had seen him twice before and he had found his way into her memory and engraved upon its tablet deep impressions that would never fade. But she had not reckoned on this meeting. She had not prepared for it or drawn up one of her ingenious plans. Here was Rhadopis meeting Pharaoh, completely out of the blue, when she had prepared herself to receive merchants from Nubia. She was taken unawares, overwhelmed, totally defeated, and for the first time in her life, she bowed and said, “Your Majesty.”

  His eyes surveyed her intently, then settled on her gorgeous face, and he noticed her bemusement with a strange pleasure, as he watched the magic effusing seductively from her features. When she greeted him, he spoke to her in a voice possessed of clear tones and refined accent. “Do you know who I am?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” she said in her sweet musical voice. “It was my happy fortune to see you yesterday.”

  He could not look at her face enough, and he began to feel a drowsy numbness come over his senses and his mind, and he no longer paid heed to his will. “Kings have authority over people,” he began suddenly. “They watch over their souls, and their belongings. That is why I have come to you, to bring back something precious that came into my possession.”

  The king put his hand under the sash and pulled out the sandal. “Is this not your sandal?” he said as he handed it to her.

  Her eyes followed Pharaoh's hand and watched incredulously as the sandal appeared from under the sash. “My sandal,” she stammered.

  The king laughed kindly, and without taking his eyes off her, said, “Yours, Rhadopis. That is your name, is it not?”

  She lowered her head, and mumbled, “Yes, Your Majesty.” She was nervous and did not say more. Pharaoh went on, “It is a beautiful sandal. The most wonderful thing about it is the picture engraved on the inside of its sole. I thought it a beautiful illustration until I set eyes on you, for now I have beheld true beauty, and I have learned a higher truth as well, that beauty, like fate, takes people unawares in ways of which they have never conceived.”

  She clasped her hands together and said, “My lord, I never dreamed that you would honor my palace with your presence. And as for the fact that you would bear my sandal… Lord, what can I say? I have lost my mind. Please forgive me, my lord. I forgot myself and left you standing.”

  She rushed over to her throne and, pointing to it, bowed respectfully, but he chose a comfortable couch and sat down upon it. “Come here, Rhadopis. Sit next to me,” he said.

  The courtesan approached until she stood in front of him, struggling to overcome her perturbation and surprise. He took her wrist in his hand, it was the first time he had touched her, and sat her down next to him. Her heart beat wildly. She put the sandal to one side and lowered her eyes. She forgot that she was Rhadopis, the one they all worshipped, who dallied with the hearts of men as she pleased. The shock had taken her completely unawares - the divine incarnation had shaken her to the core, as if a blazing light had suddenly been shone into her eyes, and she cowered like a virgin resisting her man for the first time. But then her awesome beauty entered the fray, unbeknownst to her, stronghearted and supremely confident, and shed its enchanting radiance on the astonished eyes of the king, as the sun shines its silver rays on a sleeping plant, arousing it from its slumber to glisten enchantingly. Rhadopis's beauty was overpowering and irresistible, it burned whomever came near it, sowing madness in his mind and filling his breast with a desire that could never be quenched or satisfied.

  There could not have been two people on that immortal night — Rhadopis stumbling in her confusion, and the king lost in her beauty — more in need of the mercy of the gods in all the world.

  The king, desperate to hear her voice, asked her, “Why do you not ask how the sandal came into my hands?”

  “Your presence has made me forget all matters, my lord,” she said anxiously.

  He smiled. “How did you lose it?”

  The tenderness in his voice soothed her fears. “A falcon flew off with it -while I -was bathing.”

  The king sighed and looked up, as if he was reading the inscriptions o
n the ceiling, and closed his eyes to imagine the enchanting scene; Rhadopis, the water lapping against her naked body, and the falcon swooping down from the sky to carry off her sandal. She heard his breath, and felt it caress her cheek, and he looked once more at her face. “The falcon flew away -with it and carried it to me,” he said passionately. “What a wonderful story it is! But I -wonder incredulously, I might never have set eyes on you if the gods had not sent to me this noble and generous falcon. What a tragic thought! I think deep inside that it must have been too much for the falcon that I did not know you when you were only an arm's length away from me, so he threw the sandal at me to rouse me from my indifference.”

  She was amazed. “Did the falcon throw the sandal into your hands, my lord?”

  “Yes, Rhadopis. That is the beauty of the story.”

  “What a coincidence. It is like magic.”

  “Are you saying that it is a coincidence, Rhadopis? Then what is coincidence if not our determined fate?”

  She sighed and said, “You speak truly, my lord. It is like one who knows but seems not to.”

  “I will announce my desire to all and sundry, that not one person of my people shall ever do harm to a falcon.”

  Rhadopis smiled a happy, enchanting smile that flashed in her mouth like a magic spell. The king felt a burning desire consume his heart. It was not his habit to resist an emotion and he succumbed with obvious enthusiasm, saying, “He is the only creature to whom I will be indebted for the most precious thing in my life, Rhadopis. How beautiful you are. Your loveliness renders all my dreams worthless.”

  She was delighted, as if she was hearing these words for the first time. She gazed at him with clear, sweet eyes, inflaming his passion, and in an almost plaintive voice he said, “It is as though a red hot -whip -were scourging my heart.” He moved his face closer to hers and whispered, “Rhadopis, I want to be immersed in your breath.”