Three Novels of Ancient Egypt

Her dark eyes were touched by his words and she said with deep sadness, “I would gladly sacrifice myself for you, my darling. You will never wither as long as my breast waters you with pure love.

“I shall live victorious every moment of my life, and I shall never give Khnumhotep the pleasure of saying that he humiliated me for even an hour.”

She smiled at him sadly and asked, “Do you wish to govern a people without at times resorting to subterfuge?”

“Surrender is the subterfuge of the incapable. I shall remain, while I am alive, as straight as a sword upon whose blade the forces of the traitors will be smashed.”

She sighed sadly and regretfully and did not try to win him round. She was content with defeat in the face of his anger and pride, and from that moment she began to ask herself incessantly, “When — will the messenger return? When — will the messenger return? When — will the messenger return?”

How tedious the — waiting — was. If those — who desire knew the torment of-waiting as she now did, they — would prefer abstinence in this world. How she counted the hours and minutes and watched the sun rise and waited for its setting. Her eyes ached from long looking at the Nile as it — wound its — way from the South. She reckoned the days with bated breath and throbbing heart, and often cried out when she could stand the apprehension no more, “Where are you, Benamun?” Even love itself she tasted as one distracted, far away in thought. There would be no peace of mind, no rest until the messenger returned with the letter.

The days elapsed, slowly dragging their intolerable heaviness, until one day she was sitting engrossed in her thoughts, when Shayth burst into the room. Rhadopis raised her head and asked her, “What pursues you, Shayth?”

“My lady,” said the slave girl eagerly, panting for breath, “Benamun has returned.”

Joy engulfed her and she jumped to her feet like a startled bird as she called out, “Benamun!”

“Yes, my lady,” said the slave girl. “He is waiting in the hall. He asked me to inform you of his arrival. How he has caught the sun on his travels.”

She ran in great bounds down the stairway to the hall and found him standing there waiting for her to appear. A burning desire shone in his eyes. She seemed to him like a flame of joy and hope, and in his mind he had no doubt that her joy was because of him and for him. Divine rapture flowed over him and he threw himself at her feet like one in worship. Wrapping his arms around her legs passionately and with great affection, and falling upon her feet with his mouth, he said, “My idol, my goddess, I dreamed a hundred times I kissed these feet, and now my dreams are come true.”

Her fingers played — with his hair as she said gently, “Dear Benamun, Benamun, have you really returned to me?”

His eyes shone — with the light of life. He thrust his hand inside his jerkin and pulled out a small ivory box and opened it. Inside it was dust. “This dust is some ofthat which your feet trod upon in the garden,” he said. “I gathered it up with my hands and kept it in this box. I carried it with me on my journey and would kiss it every night before surrendering to sleep and place it against my heart.”

She listened to him, anxious and perturbed. Her feelings had turned away from the words he spoke and as her patience expired, she asked with a calmness that masked her apprehension, “Do you not bear anything?”

He thrust his hand into his jerkin once again and took out a folded letter which he held out to her. She took receipt of it with trembling hand. She was awash with happy feelings and she felt a numbness in her nerves and a languor in her powers. She cast a long look at the letter and held it tightly in her hand. She would have forgotten Benamun and his ardent passion had not her glance fallen upon him, and she recalled an important matter. “Did not a messenger from Prince Kaneferu come with you?” she inquired.

“Yes, my lady,” said the youth. “He it was who carried the message during our return. He is waiting now in the summer room.”

She was unable to stand there any longer, for the joy that flooded her senses was enemy to stillness and immobility, and she said, “May the gods be with you for now. The summer room awaits you and untroubled days lie ahead for us.”

Off she ran carrying the letter, calling out for her beloved lord from the deepest recesses of her heart. Were it not for her sense of propriety she would have flown to him in his palace, like the falcon had done before, to bear him the glad tidings.

The meeting

The day of the festival of the Nile arrived, and Abu welcomed revelers from the farthest reaches of the North and South. Ballads rang out on the city's air and its houses were adorned with banners and flowers and olive branches. The priests and the governors greeted the rising sun on their way to Pharaoh's palace where they joined the great royal cavalcade, which was due to set off from the palace in the late morning.