She thanked him for his kind attention and promised him she would do as he asked.
The stream of visitors continued. The architect Heni arrived, followed by Ani, the governor of the island, and a little while later, the poet Ramon Hotep. The last one to arrive was the philosopher Hof, who had until recently been the grand professor at the university in On, and who had returned to Abu, his place of birth, after reaching the age of seventy. Rhadopis was constantly teasing him. “Why is it that whenever I see you I want to kiss you?” she exclaimed.
“Perhaps, my lady, it is because you are fond of antiques,” replied the philosopher dryly.
A group of slave girls entered carrying silver bowls filled with sweet perfume and garlands of lotus flowers, and they anointed the head, hands, and chest of each guest with perfume and gave him a lotus flower.
Rhadopis spoke in a loud voice, “Would you like to know what happened to me today?”
They all turned toward her eager to hear, and the hall fell silent. She smiled and said, “While I was bathing at noon today, a falcon swooped down and stole one of my golden sandals and flew away with it.”
Smiles of surprise appeared on their faces, and the poet Ramon Hotep said, “Seeing you naked in the water has unhinged the birds of prey.”
“I'll swear by Almighty Sothis that the falcon is wishing he had carried off the owner of the sandal instead,” said Anin excitedly.
“It was so very dear to me,” said Rhadopis sadly.
“It is truly distressing that something should be lost that has enjoyed your touch for days and weeks, and its only fate in the end will be to fall from the sky. Imagine if it falls into a remote field and a simple peasant's foot slips it on,” said Henfer.
“Whatever its fate will be,” said Rhadopis sadly, “I will never see it again.”
The philosopher Hof was surprised to see Rhadopis so upset about a simple sandal, and he consoled her, saying, “In any case, the falcon carrying off your sandal is a good omen, so do not be sad.”
“What happiness does Rhadopis lack when all these men are her lovers?” asked one of the guests, who was an important official.
Hof looked at him sternly. “She would be happier if she got rid of some of them,” he said.
Another group of slave girls entered bearing jugs of wine and golden goblets. They moved among the throng, and wherever the signs of thirst appeared, they would pour the guest a brimming cup to slake the dryness in his mouth and fuel the fire in his heart. Rhadopis rose slowly to her feet, walked over to the ivory box, and held up the wonderful goblet. Then, holding it out to the slave who was bearing the wine, she said, “Let us drink a toast to Master Anin for his beautiful gift, and his safe return.”
They all drank to the man's health. Anin emptied his cup in one swallow, and nodded to Rhadopis with a profound look of gratitude in his eyes. Then, turning to his friend, he said, “Is it not a most fortunate occurrence that the mention of my name should trip upon the tongue of Rhadopis?”
“Amen to that,” said the man, at which point Governor Ani, who knew Master Anin and had spotted him earlier, and knowing he had been in the South, said, “Welcome back Anin. How was your trip this time?”
Anin bowed respectfully, and said, “May the gods preserve you from every evil, my Lord Governor, this time I did not go beyond the region of Wawayu. It was a successful journey, most fruitful and rewarding.”
“And how is His Excellency, Kaneferu, governor of the South?”
“The truth is that His Excellency is greatly vexed by the rebellion of the Maasayu tribes, for they harbor great hatred toward Egyptians. They lie in wait for them, and if they come upon a caravan, they attack it without mercy, kill the men, steal the goods, and then escape before the Egyptian forces can apprehend them.”
The governor looked concerned and asked the merchant, “Why does His Excellency not send a punitive expedition against them?”
“His Excellency is always sending forces after them, but the tribes do not confront battle formations. They flee into the desert and the jungles and our troops are obliged to return to base when their supplies run out. Then the rebels resume their raids on the caravan routes.”
The philosopher Hof listened to the words of Anin with great interest, for he had some experience of the land of Nubia and he was well acquainted with the Maasayu question.
“Why are the Maasayu always in revolt?” he inquired of the merchant. “Those lands under Egyptian rule enjoy peace and prosperity. We do not oppose the creeds of others. Why are they hostile to us?”
Anin — was not concerned to know the reasons. He believed it was the value of the merchandise that tempted folk to swoop down upon it. Governor Ani, however, had made a thorough study of these matters. “The truth, esteemed professor,” he said to the philosopher, “is that the Maasayu question has nothing to do with politics or religion. The reality of the matter is that they are nomadic tribes living in a desolate and barren land. They are threatened by starvation on occasion, and at the same time they possess treasure of gold and silver that cannot enrich them or fend off their hunger, and when the Egyptians undertake to put it to good use, they attack them and plunder their caravans.”
“If that is the case,” said Hof, “then punitive attacks are of no use. I recall, my Lord Governor, that Minister Una, may his soul be exalted in the realm of Osiris, at one time expended great effort to secure a treaty with them based on mutual benefit; he would provide them with food and they in return would guarantee the safety of the caravan routes. It seems a shrewd idea, does it not?”
The governor nodded his head in agreement.
“Prime Minister Khnumhotep resurrected Minister Una's plan and signed the treaty a few days before the festival of the Nile. We shall not know the results of his policy for a long time, though many are optimistic.”
The guests soon tired of politics and split up into smaller groups, each one vying for Rhadopis's attention. She, however, had been intrigued by the name Khnumhotep and remembered the voice in the crowd that had shouted out his name earlier in the day. She felt the same shock and disapproval she had at that moment, and anger rose in her breast. She moved over to where Ani was sitting with Hof, Henfer, Heni, and Ramon Hotep. “Did you hear that amazing cry today?” she asked softly.
Those who frequented the white palace were brothers. No pretensions stood between them and no fear stayed their tongues. Their conversations broached every subject with the utmost candor and lack of inhibition. Hof had been heard criticizing the policies of the ministers many times, — while Ramon Hotep had expressed his doubts and fears about the teaching of theology, openly declaring his epicurean beliefs, and calling for the enjoyment of-worldly things.
Master Architect Heni drank a draught from his cup, and looking into Rhadopis's beautiful face, said, “It was a bold and audacious call, the like of which has not been heard in the Nile Valley before.”
“Indeed,” said Henfer. “No doubt it was a sad surprise to young Pharaoh so soon into his reign.”
“It has never been the custom to call out a person's name, — whatever his position might be, in the presence of Pharaoh,” said Hof quietly.
“But they flaunted that custom so insolently,” said Rhadopis, clearly outraged. “Why did they do that, my Lord Ani?”
Ani raised his thick eyebrows and said, “I suppose you ask what the people in the streets are saying. Many of the populace now know that Pharaoh wishes to appropriate a large portion of the clergy's estates for the crown and to ask for the return of the lavish grants showered on the men of the priesthood by his father and forebears.”
“The clergy have always enjoyed the favor of the pharaohs,” said Ramon Hotep in a tone not lacking in indignation. “Our rulers have bestowed lands upon the priests and have given them money; the theocrats now own a third of all the agricultural land in the kingdom. Their influence has spread to the remotest regions and all and sundry are held in their sway. Surely there are causes more deserving of money than the temples?”