she could see the picture of her face nearing completion directly in front of her on the opposite wall. She saw the young artist at the bottom of the wall and thought at first that he was absorbed in his work, as was his wont. Then she saw him kneel down, his arms folded across his chest, his head raised as if he was deep in prayer, except that his head was turned toward the head and face of her that he had engraved.
Her instinct drove her to hide behind a bough and she continued to watch him furtively with surprise and some alarm. She saw him rise to his feet as if he had finished his prayer, and wipe his eyes with the edge of his wide sleeve. Her heart quivered, and she remained for a moment motionless, surrounded by absolute silence. All she could hear was the intermittent cries of the ducks and their flapping as they swam on the water, then she turned round and raced back down to the palace.
What she had hoped would not happen, out of compassion for him, had happened. She had observed its possibility in his honest eyes every time he stared at her, but she had been unable to avert the calamity. Should she keep him far away from her? Should she close the door of the palace in his face with any pretext she could think to use against him? But she was concerned she might torment his delicate soul. She did not know what to do.
Her dilemma did not last long however. Nothing in the universe was capable of taking possession of her consciousness for more than a fleeting moment, for all her feelings and emotions were the booty of love, possessions in the hands of a covetous and eager lover whose desire for her knew no bounds. He would fly to her palace of dreams, renouncing his own palace and his world, unhindered by regret. Together they would escape existence, seeking refuge in their own love-filled spirits, succumbing to the magic and allure of their passion, consumed by its fire, seeing the rooms and the garden and the birds through its wonder and grandeur. The greatest cause for concern that Rhadopis felt those days was that she might discover, in the morning after he had bade her farewell, that she had omitted to ask him — whether it — was her eyes that stirred his desire or her lips. As for Pharaoh, he might remember on his — way back to his palace that he had not kissed her right leg as affectionately as he had her left, and perhaps this regret would cause him to rush back to erase from his mind this most trivial cause for concern. They were days unlike any other.
Khnumhotep
The times that had granted happiness and joy to some brought sullen gloom to the face of the prime minister and high priest, Khnumhotep. The man sat in the government house observing events with a pessimistic eye, listening to what was said with keen ears and a sad heart. Then he resorted to patience, as much as patience allowed.
The decree issued by the king to sequester the temple estates had caused him untold anguish, and had placed a number of psychological crises in the way of effective government, for the mass of the priests had received the announcement with alarm and pain, and most of them had been quick to write petitions and solicitations and send them to the prime minister and lord chamberlain.
Khnumhotep had noticed that the king had not been granting him a tenth of the time he had granted him before, and it was now rare that he managed to meet him and discuss with him the affairs of the kingdom at all. It was widely rumored that Pharaoh had fallen in love with the courtesan of the white palace of Biga and that he spent his nights there with her. Moreover, groups of craftsmen had been seen driving to her palace together with gangs of slaves carrying sumptuous furniture and precious jewels. Senior figures were whispering that the palace of Rhadopis was being turned into an abode of gold, silver, and pearl, and that its columns were witness to a steamy love affair that was costing Egypt a fortune.
Khnumhotep had a wise old head on his shoulders and was possessed of keen insight, but his patience was running thin and he could remain impassive no longer. He thought long and deep about the matter and determined he would do his utmost to divert events from the direction in which they were heading. He sent a messenger to Lord Chamberlain Sofkhatep requesting the pleasure of his company at the government house. The lord chamberlain hurried over to meet him. The prime minister shook his hand and said, “I thank you, venerable Sofkhatep, for accepting my request.”
The lord chamberlain bowed his head and said, “I do not hesitate to carry out my sacred duty in serving my lord.”
The two men sat down facing one another. Khnumhotep had an iron will and nerves of steel and his face remained placid despite the troubling thoughts that raged in his breast. He listened to the words of the lord chamberlain in silence then said, “Venerable Sofkhatep, all of us serve Pharaoh and Egypt with loyalty.”
“That is correct, Your Excellency.”
Khnumhotep decided to bring up his grave business in hand and said, “But my conscience is not happy with the way events are moving these days. I am encountering problems and inconveniences. I am of the opinion, and I think that I am telling the truth, that a meeting between you and me would undoubtedly be of great benefit.”
“It gives me great pleasure, by the gods, that your intuition is correct, Your Excellency.”
The prime minister nodded his large head in an indication of approval, and when he spoke his tone displayed wisdom. “It is better that we be open, for openness, as our philosopher Kagemni has pointed out, is a sign of honesty and sincerity.”
Sofkhatep agreed. “Our philosopher Kagemni spoke the truth.”
Khnumhotep spent a moment gathering his thoughts and then spoke with a hint of sadness in his voice. “It is very rare that I have the opportunity to meet His Majesty these days.”
The prime minister waited for Sofkhatep to comment, but he remained silent, and Khnumhotep continued, “And you know, venerable sir, that many times I request an appointment to meet him, and I am informed that His Worshipful Self is out of the palace.”
“It is not for any person to ask Pharaoh to account for his comings and goings,” replied Sofkhatep without hesitation.
“That is not what I mean,” said the prime minister. “But I believe it is my right as prime minister to be accorded the opportunity to stand before His Majesty from time to time, in order to carry out my duties as efficiently as possible.”
“I beg your pardon, Your Excellency, but you do gain audiences — with Pharaoh.”
“Very rarely does the opportunity present itself, and you will find that I do not know what I should do to present to His Sublime Self the petitions that are overflowing the government offices.”
The lord chamberlain scrutinized him for a moment and then said, “Perhaps they are to do with the temple estates?”
A sudden light sparkled in the prime minister's eye. “That is it, sir.”
“Pharaoh does not wish to hear anything new about the subject,” said Sofkhatep quickly, “for he has spoken his final word on the matter.”
“Politics does not know final words.”
“That is your opinion, Your Excellency,” said Sofkhatep sharply, “and it could be that I do not share it with you.”
“Are not the temple estates a traditional inheritance?”
Sofkhatep disapproved, for he sensed that the prime minister was trying to draw him into a conversation that he did not wish to partake in. Indeed, he had already made his reluctance quite clear, and in a tone that left no room for doubt, he said, “I am happy to take His Majesty's word at face value, and I will go no further.”
“The most loyal of His Majesty's subjects are those who give him sound and sincere advice.”
The lord chamberlain was most indignant at the abrasiveness of these words, but he suppressed the rage at his offended pride, saying, “I know my duty, Your Excellency, but I do not question it except before my conscience.”
Khnumhotep sighed in despair, and then said with quiet resignation, “Your conscience is beyond all suspicion, venerable sir, and I have never been in any doubt about your loyalty or your wisdom. Perhaps that is what led me to seek your guidance on the matter. As for the fact that you believe that this does not agree with your loyalty, then I regret that I will have to do without you. Now I have only one request.”
“And what is that, Your Excellency?” said Sofkhatep.
“I would request that you bring it to the attention of Her Majesty the Queen that I seek the honor of meeting
