wager that you two gentlemen are guests here,” he said.
The two men laughed and one of them said, “You would be right to do so, my dear sir. We are from Thebes. Two of the many thousands who have answered the call of the illustrious festival and hastened to the capital from all nations. Could that majestic barge belong to one of your notable citizens?”
The man smiled mysteriously and shook his finger at them in warning as he said, “Be in good spirits, my dear gentlemen. The boat does not belong to a man but rather to a woman. Indeed, it is the ship of a beautiful courtesan whom the people of Abu and its two islands Biga and Bilaq know well.”
“And who, pray, is this beautiful woman?”
“Rhadopis, Rhadopis the enchantress and seductress, queen of all hearts and passions.”
The man pointed to the island of Biga and continued: “She lives over there in her enchanting white palace. That is where her lovers and admirers head to compete for her affections and to stimulate the flow of her compassion. You may be lucky enough to see her, may the gods protect your hearts from harm.”
The eyes of the two men, and many others in the crowd, turned once again toward the boat, their faces filled with curiosity, as the barge slowly neared the shore and the skiffs and fishing boats scrambled to make way for it. As the barge inched forward, it gradually disappeared behind the hill on which the temple of the Nile stood, the bow passing first out of sight, then the cabin. When at last it came to rest at the wharf, all that could be seen of it was the top of the mast and part of the billowing sail that surged in the breeze like a banner of love that offers shade to hearts and souls.
A brief moment passed and then four Nubians, coming from the shore, strode into view and proceeded to open a way through the heaving throng of people. Following close behind came four others carrying on their shoulders a sumptuous palanquin, the like of which only princes and nobles possess. In it was a young woman of ravishing beauty, reclining on pillows, her tender-skinned arm leaning upon a cushion. In her right hand she held a fan of ostrich feathers, and in her eyes, gazing proudly at the distant horizon, a sleepy, dreamlike look shimmered, fit to pierce all creatures to the quick.
The small procession edged slowly forward, eyes transfixed upon it from all quarters, until at length it reached the front row of spectators. There the woman leaned forward a little with a neck like a gazelle, and from her rosy lips sprang such words the like of which the soul desires. The slaves drew to a halt and stood motionless in their places like bronze statues. The woman resumed her former posture and was lost once again in her dreams as she waited for Pharaoh's procession which, without a doubt, she had come to see.
Only her top half could be seen. Those fortunate enough to be near her caught glimpses of her jet-black hair adorned with threads of shining silk as it fell about the radiant orb of her face and cascaded onto her shoulders in a halo of night, as though it were a divine crown. Her cheeks were like fresh roses and her delicate mouth was parted slightly to reveal teeth like jasmine petals in the sunlight set in a ring of cloves. Her dark, deep, heavy-lidded eyes had a glint in them that knew love as the creation knows its creator. Never before had a face been seen in which such beauty had chosen to take up lasting abode.
The sight of her had everyone enthralled and stirred the waning hearts of tired old men. Fiery looks rained down on her from all directions, so hot they would have melted slate had they encountered it on their way. Sparks of loathing flew from the women's eyes, and in whispers the discussion went from mouth to mouth among those standing around her: “What an enchanting and seductive woman she is.”
“Rhadopis. They call her the mistress of the island.”
“Her beauty is overpowering. No heart can resist it.”
“It brings only despair to him who beholds it.”
“You are right. No sooner had I set eyes upon her than an untameable stirring arose in my breast. I was weighed down by the burdens of an oppressive tyranny, and feeling a devilish rebellion, my heart turned and shunned what was before me, and I was overcome by disappointment and unending shame.”
“That is most regrettable. For I see her as a paragon of joy well worthy of worship.”
“She is a calamitous evil.”
“We are too weak to handle such ravishing beauty.”
“Lord have mercy on her lovers!”
“Do you not know that her lovers are the cream of the men of the kingdom?”
“Truly?”
“To love her is an obligation upon the notables of the upper classes, as though it were a patriotic duty.”
“Her white palace was built by the brilliant architect Heni.”
“And Ani, governor of the island of Biga, furnished it with works of art from Memphis and Thebes.”
“How wonderful!”
“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.
