The next morning she waited until the king had returned, then set off just before noon on one of the royal barges for the gilded white palace of Biga. She was touched by a mood of regret and dismay, for she had not put on royal attire and she was angry with herself for that. The barge berthed by the steps of the palace and she stepped out to be greeted by a slave. She told him that she was a visitor and wished to meet the mistress of the palace and he led her to the reception hall. The air was cold and the winter wind blew icy gusts through naked branches that looked like mummified arms. She sat down in the hall and waited alone. She felt uncomfortable, helpless. She tried to console herself by telling herself that it was right for the queen to sacrifice her pride for the sake of her sublime duty. As the waiting dragged on, she wondered uneasily if Rhadopis would leave her there awhile as she did with the men. She felt a twinge of anxiety and she regretted having been so hasty as to come to the palace of her rival.
A few minutes more passed before she heard the rustle of a garment. She raised her heavy head, and her eyes fell upon Rhadopis for the first time. There was no doubt it was Rhadopis, and Nitocris felt a burning pang of despair. Face-to-face with this devastating beauty, she forgot for a moment her troubles and the purpose of her visit. Rhadopis was taken unaware as well by the sedate beauty of the queen and her dignified demeanor.
They held out their hands to one another in greeting and Rhadopis sat down next to her imposing yet unknown guest, and finding her inclined to silence she addressed her in her musical voice, “You have alighted in your own palace.”
“Thank you,” replied the guest curtly in a deeply solemn voice.
Rhadopis smiled and said, “Would that our guest might permit us to know her noble personage?”
It was a natural enough question, but it irritated the queen as if she had not been expecting it, and she found herself with no alternative but to announce herself. “I am the queen,” she said calmly.
She looked at Rhadopis to see what effect her revelation had, and she saw the smile recede and her eyes shine with astonishment, and her breast swell up and stiffen, like a viper when it is attacked. The queen was not as calm as she appeared, for her heart had changed when she saw her rival. She felt her blood was on fire, scorching her veins, and she was filled with hatred. They had come face-to-face like two champions prepared for mortal combat. She was overcome with a feeling of bitterness deformed with anger and resentment. For a moment the queen forgot everything, save that she was looking at the woman who had plundered her happiness, and Rhadopis forgot everything, except that she was in front of the woman who shared her lover's name and throne.
Such was the atmosphere that charged their conversation from the beginning with anger and resentment, and set it on a regrettable and violent course. Moreover, the queen was displeased with her love rival's lack of respect. “Do you not know, woman, how to greet a queen?” she demanded indignantly.
Rhadopis sat frozen to the spot, a rush of violent agitation rocked her heart, and her pent-up rage almost exploded. But she controlled her nerves, for she knew another — way to extract her revenge, and drawing a smile on her lips she bowed her head as she sat — she had been sitting with her head resting on the back of the chair out of languor and contempt — and said in a tone not devoid of sarcasm, “This is indeed a momentous day, Your Majesty. My palace shall be remembered by posterity.”
The queen's face glowed with anger. “I could not agree more,” she said sharply. “Your palace will be remembered, but fondly on this occasion, and not as the people are wont to remember it.”
Rhadopis looked at her with a derision that veiled her wrath and exasperation. “Is not that an insult to the people? Are they to think ill of a palace where their lord and majesty pastures his heart and passion?”
The queen accepted this jibe gracefully and cast a meaningful glance at the courtesan. “Queens are not like other women,” she said, “occupying their hearts with love.”
“Is that so, Your Majesty? I thought the queen was a woman after all else.”
“That is because you have never been a queen, not for a single day,” said the queen with obvious irritation.
Rhadopis's breast filled up and turned to stone. “I beg your pardon, Your Majesty, but I am a queen.”
The queen glared at her curiously. “Are you indeed? And over which kingdom have you ruled?” she asked mockingly.
“Over the widest kingdom of all,” she said proudly, “over Pharaoh's heart.”
The queen felt painfully weak, and ashamed. She knew for certain that she had sunk down to the level of the dancer by entering with her into a fight. She had shed her raiment of glory and dignity to appear naked in the skin of a jealous woman, put on the defensive to win back her man, seizing her rival by the neck, plotting her downfall. As she looked at herself and her rival sitting next to her, arrogant and haughty, firing the arrow back into her own chest, boasting to her about her husband's love and authority, she felt queer and bewildered, and she wished it were all an unpleasant and ridiculous dream.
She suppressed her emotions completely, and burying them deep in her soul, quickly regained her natural aloofness. In place of the anger and resentment, blue blood flowed in her veins; not seeking to condemn just out of pride, and remembering the purpose of her visit, she resolved to pardon the courtesan for the way she had behaved.
She looked at Rhadopis, her face now reflecting both outer and inner calm, and said, “You did not receive your queen well, madam. Perhaps you misunderstood the purpose of my visit and became angry. Rest assured I did not come to your palace on a matter of personal business.”
Rhadopis was silent and shot her a look full of trepidation.
The queen's anger and resentment had not abated but she pushed them to one side and said calmly, “I have come, my lady, on far more important business, business that concerns the glorious throne of Egypt, and the peacefulness that should characterize the relations between the one on the throne and his subjects.”
Rhadopis spoke with irritation and derision, “Glorious matters indeed. And what can I do about them, my lady? I am nothing but a woman whom love delights to make its full time occupation.”
The queen sighed and, disregarding Rhadopis's tone of voice, said, “You look down, I look up. I had thought you might be concerned about His Majesty's honor and happiness. If I am correct, then you should not lead him astray. He is pouring mountains of gold into your palace, and wresting from the finest of his men their lands until the people cry out in pain, and moan in complaint, and say that His Majesty withholds from us money which he squanders blindly on a woman he loves. Your duty, if you are truly concerned for his honor, is as clear as the sun on a cloudless day. You must put an end to his extravagance, and convince him to return the money to its rightful owners.”
But the anger coursing through Rhadopis's veins prevented her from understanding exactly what it was the queen was saying, for her passions were aroused and she was filled with resentment. “What really saddens you,” she said cruelly, “is that you see the gold directed with Pharaoh's affections toward my palace.”
The queen shuddered, and she began to shake. “How repulsive,” she cried.
“Nothing — will come between me and His Majesty,” said Rhadopis angrily and with pride.
Silence stayed the queen's tongue. She felt utter despair and her pride was deeply wounded. She could see no point in remaining any longer, and she rose to her feet and turning her back to the woman, she went on her way, pained, sad, and so furious that she could hardly see the way in front of her.
Rhadopis gulped for air, and leaned her spinning head on her palm, lost in sad and apprehensive thoughts.
A glimmer of light
Rhadopis sighed from deep in her — wounded heart, and said to herself, “How I regret that I have become heedless of the — world. But still it refuses to forget me or to leave me at peace now that I am cleansed of my past and those hordes of men.” Dear Lord, were the
priests really accusing her palace of consuming their stolen wealth? Were they really scourging her love with tongues of flame? She had huddled inside her palace contentedly, lost touch with everyone, and never stepped outside into the real world. She had no idea that her name was bandied about with such resentment on the tongues of these zealots who were using her as a ladder to reach up high enough to touch her worshipful lover. She did not think the queen was exaggerating, even if more than one motive had driven her to speak, for she had known for some time that the priests were concerned that Pharaoh would seize their lands, and she had heard with her own ears at the festival of the Nile those people shouting the name of Khnumhotep. There was no doubt that beyond the quiet, beautiful world that she inhabited was another more clamorous world, in which cauldrons were bubbling with affliction and resentment. She felt gloomy after long months of peace and serenity the like of which she had never experienced in her entire life. She felt her ribs curving compassionately around her lover, streaming with love and affection, and out of the depths of this sudden and unexpected grief that had come upon her, she remembered what Ani had said one day about the pharaonic guard being the only force the king could rely on, and how she had asked herself in alarm why His Sacred Majesty did not conscript soldiers, or mobilize a strong and powerful army.
She spent the whole day in her chamber, depressed, and did not go to the summer room as was her wont to sit for the sculptor, Benamun. She could not bear the thought of meeting anybody, nor sitting motionless in front of the young man's insatiable eyes. She saw no one until evening time, and she did not taste rest until she saw her — worshipped lover come through the door of her bedchamber, trailing his flowing garments. She sighed from the depths of her heart as she opened her arms and he hugged her to his broad chest as he did every time, and planted on her face the happy kiss of greeting. Then he sat down by her side on the couch and waxed lyrical about the beautiful memories the view of the Nile had brought back to his mind as it had borne his barge just a moment earlier.
“Where is the beautiful summer?” he said to her. “Where are those nights spent awake, when the barge cuts through the dark still brow of night, when we lie in the cabin and succumb to passion in the cool breeze, listening to the music of the songstresses and watching with dreamy eyes the graceful movements of the dancers?”
She was unable to keep up with his reminiscences, but she did not want him to feel alone in an emotion or a thought and she said, “Do not rush, my darling. Beauty is not in the summer, nor in the winter, but in our love, and you will find the winter warm and gentle so long as the flame of our love burns.”
He laughed his raucous laugh, and his face and body shook. “What a beautiful thing to say. My heart desires such wit more than all the glory in the world. But tell me, what do you think about some hunting? We shall go out into the mountains tomorrow and run after the gazelles, and amuse ourselves until our ravenous spirits are sated.”
Her mind had begun to wander. “May your will be done, my darling.”
He looked at her carefully, and realized at once that her tongue was speaking to him but her heart wandered far away.
“Rhadopis,” he said, “I swear to you by the falcon that brought our hearts together, some thought steals your mind from me today.”
She looked at him through two sad eyes, unable to say a word. Concern came over his face and he said, “My intuition was correct. Your eyes do not lie. But what is it you are holding back from me?”
She sighed from the depths of her heart, and as her right hand played unwittingly with his cloak, she said softly, “I wonder at our life. How much we are oblivious to what is around us, as if we were living in a deserted and uninhabited world.”
“We are well to do so, my darling. What is the world to us other than endless noise and false glory? We were lost for so long before love guided us. What is it that unsettles you?”
She sighed again and said sadly, “What use is sleep to us if all around people are awake and cannot close their eyes.”
He frowned, and a fleeting light shone in his eyes, and he knew in his heart that something was bothering her. “What is it that saddens you, Rhadopis?” he asked worriedly. “Share your thoughts with me, for have we not talked enough about things other than love?”
“Today is not like yesterday,” she said. “Some of my slaves who were walking in the market related to me how they saw a group of angry people muttering that your wealth was being spent on this palace of mine.”
Pharaoh's face showed anger, and he saw the specter of Khnumhotep hovering over his calm and peaceful paradise, clouding its serenity and disturbing its security. His anger intensified and his face turned the color of the Nile during the inundation, and he said to her in a trembling voice, “Is that what troubles you, Rhadopis? Woe be unto those rebels if they do not cease their transgression. But do not let it spoil our happiness. Pay no attention to their wailing. Leave them be and think solely of me.”
He took her hand in his and squeezed it gently and she looked at him and said beseechingly, “I am worried and sad. It pains me that I should be a cause for people to denounce you. It is as if I feel a mysterious fear, the essence of which I cannot comprehend. A person in love, my lord, is quick to fear at the least cause.”
“How can you be afraid when you are in my arms?” he asked her unhappily.
“My lord, they eye our love with envy, and resent this palace for its love and tranquility and comfort. Often have I said to myself in my sadness and inquietude, ‘What has the gold that my lord lavishes upon me to do — with love?’ I will not deny to you that I have come to hate the gold that incites people against us. Do you not think that this palace will still be our paradise even if its floors were torn bare and its walls disfigured? If the glitter of gold will distract their eyes, Your Majesty, then fill their hands with it so that they go blind, swallowing their tongues.”
“Do not say such things, Rhadopis. You are reminding me of a matter I hate to hear about.”
“Your Majesty,” she pleaded, “it is about to envelop the sky of our happiness. Remove it with a single word.”
“And what word might that be?”
She thought he was beginning to yield and see sense. “To give them back their lands,” she said happily.
He shook his head violently. “You do not know anything about the matter, Rhadopis,” he insisted. “I spoke, but my word has not been respected; it has been implemented reluctantly, and they have not silenced their protests. They continue to threaten me and giving in to them is a defeat I will not accept. I would rather die than allow that. You do not know what defeat means to my soul. It is death. If they were victorious over me and took what they desired, you would find me a stranger, pathetic and pitiful, unable to live or to love.”
His words penetrated to her heart and she held his hands more tightly. She felt her body tremble. She could bear anything, but not that he be incapable of life or love. She relinquished her desire, and regretted her beseeching, and in a quivering voice she exclaimed, “You shall never be conquered. Never.”
He smiled at her tenderly. “Nor shall I err or falter, nor shall you be the fate that brings disgrace upon me.”
A hot tear slipped from beneath her trembling eyelids.
“You shall never be disgraced,” she said breathlessly, “you shall never be defeated.”
She leaned her head against his chest, and let herself be lulled to sleep by the beating of his heart. In her slumber she felt his fingers playing with her hair and her cheeks, but she did not find peace for long, for one of the thoughts that had darkened her day tugged at her mind, and she looked up at him with worried eyes.
“What is the matter?” he asked.
She hesitated before she spoke. “It is said that they are a strong party, with great sway over the hearts and minds of the people.”
He smiled: “But I am stronger.”
She paused a moment then said, “Why do you not conscript a powerful a
rmy that would be at your command?”
The king smiled and said, “I see that your misgivings are getting the better of you once again.”
She sighed with irritation, “Did it not reach my ear that people are whispering among themselves that Pharaoh takes the money of the gods and spends it on a dancer? When people come together their whisper becomes a loud cry; like evil it will flare up.”
“What a pessimist you are, seeing evil everywhere.”
But she asked him again, pleading, “Why do you not summon the soldiery?”
He looked at her for a long time, thinking, then said, “The army cannot be called up without a reason.”
He appeared angry and continued, “They are confused and misguided. They feel that I am displeased with them. If I announce conscription they will be alarmed. Maybe they would rise up desperately to defend themselves.”
She thought for a moment, then, in a dreamy voice, as if she were talking to herself, she said, “Make up a pretext and summon the army.”
“Pretexts make themselves up by themselves.”
She felt desperate, and lowered her head sadly, her eyes closed. She was not asking for anything, but suddenly, in the utter darkness, an auspicious idea jumped out at her. She was staggered and when she opened her eyes, joy shone in them. The king was astonished, but she did not notice, for she could scarcely contain her excitement. “I have found a reason,” she said.
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