Three Novels of Ancient Egypt

“And Henfer, the master sculptor, carved its statues and adorned its walls.”

“Indeed he did, and General Tahu, commander of Pharaoh's guard, gave some of his priceless pieces.”

“If all of them are competing for her affections, then who is the lucky man she will choose for herself?”

“Do you think you'll find a lucky man in this unfortunate city?”

“I do not think that woman will ever fall in love.”

“How do you know? Maybe she will fall in love with a slave or an animal.”

“Never. The strength of her beauty is colossal, and what need does strength have of love?”

“Look at the hard, narrow eyes. She has not tasted love yet.”

A woman who was listening to the conversation became annoyed. “She's nothing but a dancer,” she said, her voice full of spite. “She was brought up in a pit of depravity and corruption. Since she was a child she has given herself over to wantonness and seduction. She has learned to use her makeup skillfully and now takes on this enticing and deceptive form.”

Her — words — were too much for one of the infatuated men.

“Do not speak thus in front of the gods, woman,” he berated her. “Do you not know yet that her wondrous beauty is not the only — wealth the gods have endowed her — with? For Thoth has not been mean — with — wisdom and knowledge.”

“Nonsense. What does she know about wisdom and knowledge — when she spends all her time seducing men?”

“Every evening her palace receives a select group of politicians, wise men, and artists. It is no wonder then, as is widely known of her, that she understands wisdom more than most, is well versed in politics, and most discerning in matters of art.”

“How old is she?” someone asked.

“They say she is thirty.”

“She cannot be a day over twenty-five.”

“Let her be as old as she wishes. Her comeliness is ripe and irresistible, and seems destined never to fade.”

“Where did she grow up?” inquired the asker again. “And where is she from?”

“Only the gods know that. For me it is as if she has always been there in her white palace on the island of Biga.”

All of a sudden a peculiar-looking woman cut through the assembled ranks. Her back was bent like a bow and she leaned on a thick stick. Her white hair was matted and disheveled, her fangs long and yellow, and her nose crooked. Her stern eyes emitted a fearsome light from beneath two graying eyebrows and she wore a long, flowing gown girded at the waist with a flaxen cord.

“It is Daam,” cried those who saw her, “Daam, the sorceress!” She paid no heed to them as her bony feet carried her on her way. She claimed to be able to see the invisible world and to know the future. She would offer her supernatural power in exchange for a piece of silver, and those who gathered round her were either afraid of her or mocked her. On her way, the sorceress met a young man and offered to tell his fortune. The youth agreed, for if truth be told, he was drunk and staggering and his legs could hardly carry him. He pressed a piece of silver into her palm as he gazed at her with half-sleepy eyes.

“How old are you, lad?” she asked him in her hoarse voice.

“Twelve cups,” he answered, unaware of what he was saying.

The crowd roared with laughter, but the woman was furious and threw away the piece of silver he had given her and went on her way, which never seemed to end. Suddenly another young man blocked her way, sneering: “What happenings await me, woman?” he asked her rudely.

She looked at him a moment, angry and embittered, then said, “Rejoice! Your wife will betray you for the third time.”

The people laughed and applauded her as the young man retreated in embarrassment, the arrow having been deflected to return and pierce his own breast. The sorceress walked on until she reached the courtesan's palanquin and, keen to test her generosity, she stopped before it, smiling slyly as she called to the woman sitting inside: “Shall I read your stars, O lady who is so carefully guarded?”

The courtesan did not appear to have heard the voice of the sorceress.

“My lady!” the old woman shouted. Rhadopis looked toward her, seemingly in panic, then turned her head quickly away, for anger had touched her.

“Believe me,” the old woman told her, “there is none in all this clamoring crowd who has need of me today like you do,” whereupon one of the slaves approached the old woman and stood between her and the palanquin. The incident, despite its insignificance, would have aroused the interest of those standing nearby had not the shrill sound of a horn cut through the air. Immediately the soldiers lining the road raised their horns to their lips and blew a long continuous note, and all the people knew that Pharaoh's entourage had set off, and that soon Pharaoh would leave the palace on his way toward the temple of the Nile. Everyone forgot what they had been doing and gazed toward the road, necks craned, senses fine-tuned.