Three Novels of Ancient Egypt

O ye who listen to the sermons of the wise, lend me your ears, I have seen the world since the beginning of time, the passing of your forebears, who came and alighted here awhile like thoughts alight on the mind of a dreaming man. I have had my fill of laughing at their promises and threats. Where are the pharaohs, where are the politicians, where are the vanquishing heroes? Is the grave truly the threshold of eternity? No messenger has returned thence to put our hearts at rest, so do not shun pleasure, and do not let earthly delights pass you by, for the voice of her who pours the wine is more eloquently wise than the shrieking of the preacher.

The courtesan sang the words with a serene and tender voice, liberating the listeners’ souls from the shackles of the body to float in the welkin of beauty and joy, mindless of worldly troubles and the cares of this life, partaking of the most sublime mystery. And when she stopped, the guests remained enraptured, sighing sighs of joy and sadness, pleasure and pain.

Love drove all other emotions from their breasts and they vied in drinking, their eyes transfixed on the gorgeous woman who tripped lightly through their midst, flirting with them, teasing them, supping with them. And when she came to Ani, he whispered in her ear, “May the gods bring you happiness, Rhadopis. I came to you a shadow of myself, weighed down with woes, and now I feel like a bird soaring in the sky.”

She smiled at him and then moved over to Ramon Hotep and offered him a lotus flower to replace the one he had lost. “This old man says that art is jest and fantasy,” he said to her. “I say, to hell with his opinion. Art is that divine spark of light that flashes in your eyes, and, resounding in harmony with the throbbing of my heart, works miracles.”

Rhadopis laughed. “What do I do that causes miracles to happen? I am more powerless than a suckling child.”

Then she hurried over to where Hof was sitting and sat down next to him. He had not tasted the wine and as she looked at him seductively, he laughed and said sarcastically, “What a poor choice of one to sit with.”

“Do you not love me like the rest of them do?”

“If only I could. But I find in you that which a cold man finds in a burning stove.”

“Then advise me what I should do with my life, for today I am sorely troubled.”

“Are you really troubled? With all this luxury and wealth you complain?”

“How could it have escaped you, O Wise One?”

“Everyone complains, Rhadopis. How often I have heard the bitter grumbling of the poor and the wretched who yearn for a crust of bread. How often I have listened to the bellyaching of rulers — who groan under the — weight of enormous responsibilities. How many times I have listened to the whining of the rich and reckless who have tired of wealth and luxury. Everyone complains, so what is the use of hoping for change? Be content with your lot.”

“Do people complain in the realm of Osiris?”

The old man smiled. “Aah. Your friend Ramon Hotep scoffs at that exalted world while the scholar priests tell us it is the eternal abode. Be patient, beautiful woman, for you are still little experienced.”

The wave of dalliance and sarcasm came over her again, and she thought to tease the philosopher. “Do you really think I have little experience?” she said, feigning a serious tone. “You have seen nothing of the things I have seen.”

“And what have you seen that I have not?”

She pointed to the drunken throng and laughed. “I have seen these outstanding men, the cream of Egypt, mistress of the world, prostrating themselves at my feet. They have reverted to a state of barbarism, and forgotten their wisdom and dignity, they are like dogs or monkeys.”

She laughed delicately, and with the agility of a gazelle she stepped into the center of the hall. She signaled to her musicians and their fingers plucked the strings, as the courtesan danced one of her select dances at which her lithe and lissome body excelled, working miracles of nimbleness and flexibility. The guests were absorbed in the entertainment, and clapped their hands in time to the drums, a subtle fire smoldering in their eyes, and when she ended her dance, she flew like a dove back to her throne, whereupon she cast her eyes round their greedy faces. The sight made her roar with laughter: “It is as if I am among wolves.”