Three Novels of Ancient Egypt

Now it was the second year, and here she was, holed up in her palace while the world feasted and made merry outside. She would not be destined to appear again except on the rarest of occasions, for Rhadopis was no longer the courtesan and dancer, but rather for a whole year now and forever after, she was the pulsating heart of Pharaoh. Her thoughts roamed here and there, but it was not long before they were inevitably drawn back to he who was uppermost in her mind, and she wondered what had happened at the extraordinary meeting that her lord had convened in order to have the message read out before it. Had the conference taken place and the assembled grandees rallied to the call, thereby bringing her cherished hope ever nearer to fulfillment? O Lord, when would evening come?

She grew tired of sitting and stood up to stretch her legs. She strolled over to the window that looked out upon the garden and cast her eyes over the spacious grounds. And there she remained until she heard a frenzied hand knocking on the door. With considerable irritation she turned round and saw her slave girl Shayth fling open the door and charge into the room, gasping for breath as her eyes darted back and forth and her chest rose and fell. Her face was pallid as if she had just risen from the bed of a long sickness. Rhadopis's heart beat faster and she was filled with dread as she asked her apprehensively, “Shayth, what is the matter?”

The slave tried to speak, but she burst into tears as she knelt in front of her lady, and clasping her hands to her breasts, she wept uncontrollably. Rhadopis was overcome with an intense perturbation, and she shouted, “What is wrong with you, Shayth?

“By God, speak woman! Do not leave me prey to confusion.

I have hopes and I fear they will be dashed by some malicious conspiracy.”

The woman breathed a deep sigh and, gulping for air as she spoke, said in a tearful sobbing voice, “My lady, my lady. They have flared up in open revolt.”

“Who have?”

“The people, my lady. They are screaming things, angry and insane. May the gods tear out their tongues.”

Her heart leapt into her mouth and in a trembling voice she said, “What are they saying, Shayth?”

“Alas, my lady, they have gone berserk and their poisonous tongues are ranting frightful things.”

Rhadopis was out of her mind with terror and she shouted out sternly, “Do not torment me, Shayth. Tell me honestly what they were saying. O Lord!”

“My lady, they mention you in a very unflattering way. What have you done, my lady, that you so deserve their wrath?”

Rhadopis clasped her hand to her breast. Her eyes were wide with panic as she said in a halting voice, “Me? Are the people angry with me? Could they find nothing on this sacred day to take their minds off me? Dear Lord! What did they say, Shayth? Tell me the truth, for my sake.”

The woman wept bitterly as she spoke. “The insane louts were crying out that you had made off with the money of the gods.”

She let out a gasp from her stricken breast, and muttered woefully, “Alas, my heart is plucked out and quakes in fear. What I dread most is that the victory we anticipated is lost amid the uproar and the cries of rage. Would it not have been more worthy of them to ignore me out of respect for their lord?”

The slave struck her breast with her fist and wailed, “Not even our lord himself escaped their venomous tongues.”

The terrified woman let out a scream of terror, and she felt a shudder rock the very foundations of her being. “What are you saying? Did they have the audacity to besmirch Pharaoh?”

“Yes my lady,” sobbed the woman. “O the pity of it. They said, ‘Pharaoh is frivolous. We want a serious king.’ “

Rhadopis raised her hands to her head as if she were shouting for help, her body was contorted with the severity of the pain and she threw herself desperately onto the divan as she said, “Dear Lord, what horror is this? How does the earth not quake, and the mountains crumble to dust? Why does the sun not pour down its fire upon the world?”

“It is quaking, my lady,” said the slave. “It is quaking mightily. The populace is locked in violent combat with the police. Blood gushes and flows. I was almost trampled underfoot, and I ran for my life, oblivious to the fray, and I came down to the island in a skiff. My fears only increased when I saw the Nile heaving with boats, the people on board shouting the same slogans as those on the land. It was as if they had all agreed to come out at the same time.”