Three Novels of Ancient Egypt

by Naguib Mahfouz

  He lay there, drifting in and out of consciousness, languid and inanimate. The short journey had drained the last dregs of the strength that was already quickly fading. But when he heard her voice and saw her beloved face, a faint breath of life stirred in him and the shadow of a distant smile passed across his clouded eyes.

  She had only ever seen him impassioned and bursting with life like a gusty wind and she almost lost her wits as she beheld him now, like one long since withered and grown old. She cast a burning glance at the arrow that had brought all this about and said as she winced with pain, “Why have they left it in your chest? Should I summon the physician?”

  He gathered all his dwindling and scattered strength together and said feebly, “It is no use.”

  Madness flashed in her eyes and she rebuked him, “No use, my darling? How can you say that? Does our life together no longer please you?”

  With desperate weakness he stretched out his hand until it brushed against her cold palm, and whispered, “It is the truth, Rhadopis. I have come to die here in your arms in this place, which I love more than any place in the world. You must not lament our fortune, rather grant me some cheer.”

  “My lord, do you bring me tidings of your own death? What evening hour is this? And I was waiting for it, my darling, with a spirit consumed with yearning, seduced by hope. I hoped you would come bearing me news of victory, and when you came you brought me this arrow. How can I be cheerful?”

  He swallowed his saliva with difficulty, as he pleaded with her in a voice that was more like a moan, “Rhadopis, put this pain aside and come nearer to me. I want to look into your lustrous eyes.”

  He wanted to see the fresh face radiant with happiness and delight to end his life — with that enchanting image but she was enduring pains no human could endure. She wished she could scream and wail and rant and give vent to her tortured breast, or to seek solace in raving madness or the roasting fires of hell. How could she be cheerful and composed and gaze upon him with that face which he loved and which comforted him more than any other in this world or the next?

  Still looking at her longingly, he said, “Those are not your eyes, Rhadopis.”

  With grief and sorrow in her voice, she said, “They are my eyes, my lord, but the spring that gives them life and light has dried up.”

  “Alas, Rhadopis! Would you not forget your pains this hour just for me? I wish to see the face of my darling Rhadopis, and listen to her sweet voice.”

  His request pierced her heart and she could not bear to deprive him of something he wanted in this black hour. With great cruelty to herself, she smoothed the surface of her face and forced a trembling smile to her lips. Without a sound she touched him tenderly as she had touched him when he lay as her lover and a look of contentment appeared on his pale and withered face and his pale lips parted in a smile.

  If she had been left to her emotions, the world would not have been wide enough to contain her insane ranting, but she yielded to his dear desire and fed her eyes on his face, not believing that it would disappear from her view forever after a few short seconds, and that she would never see it again in this world however much she suffered or sighed or shed tears of grief. His image, his life, and his love would all pass away, distant memories of an unfamiliar past. How preposterous for her broken heart to believe that he had once been her present and her future. And all this because a wild arrow had found its mark here in his chest. How could this despicable arrow put an end to her hopes when the whole world had been too narrow to contain them? The woman let out a deep and fervent sigh that stirred up the fragments of her broken heart. The king — was giving up the last remnants of life that still hung on in his breast and rattled in his throat. His strength — waned and his limbs — went limp, his senses died and his eyes dimmed. All that remained of him was his chest, heaving tumultuously, while therein death and life were locked in desperate and doomed combat. Suddenly his face contorted with pain and he opened his mouth as if to scream or cry out for help and he held the hand that she had extended to him, a look of indescribable panic in his eyes. “Rhadopis, raise my head, raise my head,” he cried.

  She took his head in her trembling hands and was about to sit him up when he emitted a fearful moan and his hand fell limply at his side. Thus ended the battle raging between life and death. She hurriedly laid his head back in its original position and let out an agonizing high-pitched scream, but it was shortlived and her voice cut off abruptly as if her lungs had been torn out, her tongue turned to stone, and her jaws clamped tightly shut. She stared with emotionless eyes into the face that had once been a person, and sat there immobile.

  It was her scream that broadcast the painful news and the two men rushed into the room, unnoticed by her, and stood in front of the litter. Tahu cast a dismal glance at the king's face, the wan pallor of death overspreading his own face, and did not utter a word. Sofkhatep too approached the corpse and bowed in deep reverence, his eyes blinded by tears that ran down his cheeks and dripped onto the ground, saying in a shaking voice whose grieving tones tore at the pervading silence, “My master and lord, son of my master and lord, we commit you to the most exalted gods whose will has decreed this day the beginning of your journey to the eternal realm. How gladly I would sacrifice my doting senility for your tender youth, but it is the immutable will of the Lord. So now farewell, my noble lord.”

  Sofkhatep stretched out his emaciated hand to the coverlet and unhurriedly drew it over the corpse. Then he bowed once again and returned to his place with heavy steps.

  Rhadopis remained on her knees, in a state of utter bewilderment, engulfed in her sorrow, her eyes transfixed inconsolably on the corpse. An unnerving stillness like death had penetrated her body and she displayed not a single sign of life. She did not weep, nor did she scream out. The men stood motionlessly behind her, their heads turned to the ground, — when one of the slaves who had carried the litter entered and announced, “The queen's handmaiden.”

  The men turned to the door and saw the handmaiden enter, deep sadness etched upon her face, and they bowed to her in greeting. She returned the greeting — with a nod of her head and cast a glance at the covered body then turned her eyes to Sofkhatep, who spoke in a voice filled with grief. “It is all over, venerable lady.”

  The woman was silent for a moment like one in a daze, then said, “Then the noble corpse must be taken to the royal palace. That is Her Majesty the Queen's wish, Prime Minister.”

  As the lady-in-waiting headed for the door, she gestured to the slaves. They rushed over to her and she ordered them to lift up the litter. As the slaves moved forward and bent down over its poles to lift it up, Rhadopis, who had not felt a thing going on around her, suddenly realized with horror what was happening, and in a hoarse incredulous voice she demanded, “Where are you taking him?”

  She threw herself on the litter. Sofkhatep stepped over to her and said, “The palace wishes to carry out its duty in respect of the sacred corpse.”

  The woman, in a state of shock, said, “Do not take him from me. Wait. I shall die on his chest.”

  The lady-in-waiting was looking down on Rhadopis, and when she heard her words, she said roughly, “The king's chest was not created to be a final resting place for anyone.”

  Sofkhatep bent down over the grieving woman and, gently taking hold of her wrists, slowly raised her to her feet as the slaves carried away the litter. She managed to free her hands from his and turned her head violently around her but there was no sign on her forlorn face that she recognized any of those who were present, and she cried out in a dismembered voice like the rattle of death, “Why are you taking him? This is his palace. This is his room. How can you subject me to such humiliation in front of him? It does not please my lord that anyone should mistreat me, you cruel, cruel people.”

  The lady-in-waiting paid no attention to her and marched out into the garden — with the slaves following her, carrying the litter. The men left the room in a silent and subdued m
ood. The woman — was on the verge of madness. For a short moment she was frozen to the spot, but then she shot off behind them, only to find a coarse hand grabbing her arm. She tried to extricate herself but her efforts were to no avail.

  She swung round furiously and found herself face-to-face with Tahu.

  Tahu's end

  She stared at him in disbelief, as if she did not know him. She tried to free her arm but he would not allow her to do so. “Let me go,” she said viciously.

  Slowly he shook his head from right to left as if to say to her, “No, no, no.” His face was terrible and frightening, and a look of insanity flashed in his eyes as he muttered, “They are going to a place where it is best you do not follow.”

  “Let me go. They have taken away my lord.”

  He glowered at her and in an aggressive tone, as if he were giving a military order, he said, “Do not challenge the wishes of the queen who now rules.”

  Her anger abated and turned to fear and she ceased to resist. For once, she gave in, and knitting her brow, she shook her head in confusion as if she were trying to muster her scattered and bewildered powers of comprehension. She stared at him with a look of incredulous denial, and said, “Do you not see? They have killed my lord. They have killed the king.”

  The phrase “they have killed the king” rang ominously in his ears, almost too dire to comprehend, and the turmoil in his breast subsided as he said, “Yes, Rhadopis. They have killed the king. I for one would never have conceived before today that an arrow could end Pharaoh's life.”

  And she said with idiotic simplicity, “How could you let them take him away from me?”

  He erupted into fits of insane terrifying laughter and said, “Do you wish to go after them? How crazy you are, Rhadopis. You are blind to the consequences, sadness must have left you in a stupor. Wake up, temptress. She who now sits on the throne of Egypt is a woman you have treated with great disdain. You snatched her husband from between her hands and pitched her from the lofty peak of glory and felicity into the pits of misery and oblivion. She could, in an instant, dispatch those who would drag you before her shackled in irons, then deliver you into the hands of torturers who do not know the meaning of the word mercy. They would shave your head of its silken hair and gouge out your dark eyes. They would cut off your fine nose and amputate your delicate ears and then drive you through the streets on the back of a cart, a mutilated and repulsive spectacle, displaying you to the malicious delight of your detractors. And the town crier would walk before you inviting them at the top of his voice to behold the pernicious whore who lured the king from himself, then lured him from his people.”

  Tahu was speaking as if to satisfy some burning thirst for revenge, his eyes shining with a fearsome light, but she was not moved by his words, as though something stood between him and her senses. Oddly silent, she stared at some unseen object and then shrugged her shoulders in blatant contempt. Fury and rage flared up in his heart at her coldness and distraction. The anger rushed from his heart into his hand and he gripped her tightly, feeling an uncontrollable desire to aim a massive blow at her face and smash it to pieces and gratify his eyes with its disfigurement, as the blood spurted from its pores and orifices. He spent a long moment scrutinizing her calm inattentive expression, disputing with his demonic desire. Then she raised her eyes to him but no sign or characteristic of life was visible in them. He was disturbed and his ardor flagged, and a look of startled fright appeared on his face, like one caught red-handed in a crime. His fingers loosened their grip, and he let out a deep heavy sigh, as he said, “I see that nothing concerns you anymore.”

  She paid no attention to what he said, but then out of the blue she said, as if speaking to herself, “We should have followed them.”

  “No, we should not,” said Tahu angrily. “Neither of us is any use to the world. No one will miss us after today.”

  Naively, calmly, she repeated, “She has taken him from me, she has taken him from me.”

  He knew that she meant the queen. And he shrugged his shoulders saying, “You possessed him while he was alive. She has taken him back dead.”

  She looked at him oddly and said, “You fool, you ignorant fool. Do you not know? The treacherous woman killed him so she could have him back.”

  “Which treacherous woman is that?”

  “The queen. She is the one who divulged our secret and stirred up the people. She is the one who killed my lord.”

  He was listening to her silently, a mocking demonic smile about his mouth, and when she finished speaking he laughed his mad frightening laugh, then said, “You are mistaken, Rhadopis. The queen is neither traitor nor murderer.”

  He gazed into her face as he took a step nearer to her, and she looked at him, consternation and bewilderment in her eyes, as he said in a terrible voice, “If it concerns you to know the traitor, here he is, standing before you. I am the traitor, Rhadopis, I.”

  His words did not affect her as he had imagined. They did not even rouse her from her stupor, but she shook her head lightly from side to side as if she wished to shake off the lethargy and indifference. He was consumed with anger and he grabbed her by the shoulders roughly and shook her violently as he yelled at her, “Wake up. Can you not hear what I am saying to you? I am the traitor. Tahu, the traitor. I am the cause of all these calamities.”

  Her body shook violently, and she thrashed about wildly and freed herself from his hands. She took a few steps backward as she looked at his startled face with fear and madness in her eyes. His anger and irritation abated, and he felt his body and head go limp. His eyes darkened and he said softly, in sad tones, “I utter these appalling words so candidly because I sincerely feel that I am not of this world. All ties that bind me to it have been severed. There is no doubt that my confession has caused you great consternation, but it is the truth, Rhadopis. My heart was shattered by hideous cruelty, my soul torn apart with unspeakable pains that demented night I lost you forever.”

  The commander paused to let his troubled breast calm down, and then continued, “But I harbored a hope, and resorted to patience and resignation, and determined sincerely to carry out my duty to the end. Then came that day you called me to your palace in order to reassure yourself of my loyalty. I lost my mind on that day. My blood was ablaze and I became strangely delirious. My madness drove me into the arms of the lurking enemy, and I divulged to him our secret. Thus did the trusty commander turn into the vile traitor, stabbing his comrades in the back.”

  He was swamped with emotion at the memory, and his face grimaced in pain and grief. He looked cruelly into her panic-stricken eyes as his fury and anger returned, and cried out, “You pernicious and destructive woman! Your beauty has been a curse upon all who have ever set eyes upon you. It has tortured innocent hearts and brought ruin to a vibrant palace. It has shaken an ancient and respected throne, stirred up a peaceful people, and polluted a noble heart. It is indeed an evil and a curse.”

  Tahu fell silent, though the rage still boiled in his veins, and seeing the torment and fear she was in, he felt relief and pleasure, and he mumbled, “Taste agony and humiliation and behold death. Neither of us should live. I died a long time ago. There is nothing left of Tahu save his glorious, emblazoned uniforms. As for the Tahu who took part in the conquest of Nubia, and whose courage on the field of battle earned the praise of Pepi II, Tahu, commander of the guard of Merenra II, his bosom friend and counselor, he does not exist.”

  The man cast a quick glance about the room and unbearable anguish showed in his face. He could no longer stand the stifling silence nor the sight of Rhadopis, who was transformed into an unfeeling statue. He snorted into the air with bitterness and disgust as he said, “Everything should end, but I will not deny myself the harshest punishment. I shall go to the palace and summon all those who think well of me. I will announce my crime for them all to hear, and I will unmask the traitor who, though his lord's right-hand man, betrayed him in the end. I shall tear off the decorati
ons that adorn my wicked breast, I shall throw aside my sword and plunge this dagger into my heart. Farewell, Rhadopis, and farewell to life that demands from us so much more than it deserves.”

  With these words Tahu departed.

  The end

  No sooner had Tahu left the palace than the skiff” bearing Benamun Ben Besar docked at the garden stairway. The young man was exhausted, all color drained from his face, his clothes smeared with dust. The unrest he had seen in the city, the raging fury of the people in revolt, had left his nerves in shreds. Only with great effort had he managed to reach his lodgings. The scenes he had encountered on the way there paled in significance next to the horrors that greeted him on the return journey. So it was that he breathed a great sigh of relief when he found himself walking down the garden paths of the white palace of Biga, the summer room lying in front of him a little way ahead. He reached the room, and believing it to be empty, crossed the threshold. He soon realized his mistake, however, when he saw Rhadopis slumped on the divan underneath her magnificent portrait with Shayth sitting cross-legged at her feet, the two of them contained in an unearthly silence. He hesitated a moment. Shayth sensed his presence and Rhadopis turned toward him. The slave stood up, bowed to him in greeting and left the room. The young man stepped over to the woman, beaming with joy, but when he saw the expression on her face all his emotions stood still and he was overcome with anxiety, struck speechless. There was no doubt in his mind that the news of events outside had reached the ears of his goddess, and that the reports of the pains afflicting the people had reflected themselves on her lovely face and clothed it in this coarse mantle of despair. He knelt down in front of her, then leaned over the hem of her dress and kissed it passionately. He looked at her with his two clear eyes, full of compassion, as if to say to her, “I would gladly take upon myself your suffering.” The relief that appeared on her face when she saw him did not escape him. His heart raced with delight and his face turned bright red. In a feeble voice Rhadopis said to him, “You took a long time, Benamun.”