“How, my lady? He is a man the door of this palace is never closed to.”
“Tahu?”
“Yes, it is he.”
“And what has brought him at this late hour of the night?”
A mischievous glint flashed in the woman's eye. “That you will know soon enough, my lady.”
With a wave of her hand, Rhadopis signaled her to call him, and the slave girl disappeared. A moment later the commander's tall, broad figure filled the doorway. He greeted her with a bow then stood before her, looking at her face in confusion. She could not help noticing his pale color and furrowed brow, and the darkness in his eyes. She ignored him and walked over to the divan and sat down. “You look tired. Is your work wearing you out?” she asked him.
He shook his head. “No,” he said curtly.
“You do not look your usual self.”
“Is that so?”
“You must know that. What is the matter with you?”
He knew everything, no doubt about it, and she would know in a moment, whether he told her himself or not. He was wary of being so audacious as to speak, because he was risking his happiness and he was afraid she would slip through his hands and be lost to him forever. If he were able to prevail over her will, everything would be so easy, but he had almost given up hope ofthat, and was tormented by pangs of anguish.
“Ah, Rhadopis! If only you felt for me the love I feel for you, then I could beseech you in the name of our love.”
She wondered why he needed to beseech. She had always considered him an aggressive man who detested beseeching and pleading. He had always been satisfied with the charm and enticement of her body. What was it that had upset him? She lowered her eyes. “It is the same old talk as before.”
Her words, though they were true, still angered him. “I know that,” he shouted. “But I am repeating it for reasons of the present. Ah, your heart is like an empty cavern at the bottom of an icy river.”
She was familiar with such comparisons, but her words twitched nervously as she spoke. “Have I ever refused to give you what you wanted?”
“Never, Rhadopis. You have granted me your enchanting body, which was created to torment mankind. But I have always yearned for your heart. What a heart it is, Rhadopis. It stands firm and steadfast amidst the stormy tempests of passion as if it does not belong to you. How often I have asked myself in confusion and exasperation, what faults do mar me? Is it that I am not a man? Nay, for I am the very paragon of manhood. The truth is that you do not have a heart.”
She wanted nothing to do with him. It was not the first time she had heard these words, but normally he spoke them with sarcasm or some mild anger. Now, at this late hour of the night, he was speaking with a shaking voice full of fury and resentment. What could have inflamed him so? To elicit an explanation she asked him, “Have you come at this late hour of the night, Tahu, to simply repeat these words in my ears?”
“No, I have not come for the sake of these words. I have come for a far more serious matter, and if love fails to help me in its regard, then let your freedom assist me, for it seems you are keen to hold on to that.”
She looked at him curiously, and waited for him to speak. He could stand the tension no longer and, determined to get to the point without further delay, he addressed her quietly and firmly as he looked straight into her eyes. “You should leave the palace of Biga, and escape from the island as soon as possible, before dawn breaks.”
Rhadopis was stunned. She looked at him with disbelief in her eyes. “What are you saying, Tahu?”
“I am saying that you should disappear, or else you will lose your freedom.”
“And what threatens my freedom on Biga?”
He ground his teeth, and then asked her, “Have you not lost something valuable?”
“Why yes. I lost one of the golden sandals you gave to me.”
“How?”
“A falcon snatched it away while I was bathing in the garden pool. But I do not understand what a lost sandal has to do with my threatened freedom.”
“Slowly, Rhadopis. The falcon carried it off, that is true, but do you know where it landed?”
She could tell from the way he spoke that he knew the answer. She was astonished. “How should I know that, Tahu?” she muttered.
He sighed, “It landed in Pharaoh's lap.”
His words echoed ominously in her ears and pervaded all her senses. All else faded from her mind. She looked at Tahu with confusion in her eyes, unable to utter a sound. The commander scrutinized her face with nervous and suspicious eyes. He wondered how she had taken the news, and what feelings surged in her breast. He could not contain himself and asked her softly, “Was I not right in my request?”
She did not reply. She did not seem to be listening to him. She was drowning in a storm of confusion and the waves crashed against her heart. Her stillness filled him with fear, and her confusion was almost too much for him to bear, for he read into it meanings that his heart refused to acknowledge. At length his patience ran out and his anger put him on the defensive. His eyes narrowed as he roared at her, “Which valley are you lost in now, woman? Does this terrible news not alarm you?”
Her body trembled at the power in his voice, and anger blazed in her heart. She glared at him with hatred in her eyes, but she suppressed her rage, for she was going to get her own — way. “Is that how you see it?” she asked him coldly.
“I see that you are pretending not to understand what this means, Rhadopis.”
“How unjust you are. What does it matter if the sandal landed in Pharaoh's lap. Do you think he will kill me for it?”
“Of course not. But he held the sandal in his hands and asked who the owner might be.”
Rhadopis felt a flutter in her heart. “Did he receive an answer?” she asked.
Tahu's eyes misted over. “There was a person there waiting for a chance to confound me,” he said. “The Fates have made him friend and foe at one and the same time. He snatched the opportunity and stabbed me in the back, for he mentioned your enchanting beauty to Pharaoh, sowing the seed of desire in his heart and igniting passion in his breast.”
“Sofkhatep?”
“The very same, that enemy-friend. He stirred temptation in the young king's heart.”
“And what does the king want to do?”
Tahu crossed his arms over his chest, and spoke loudly, “Pharaoh is not a person who just desires a thing when it is dear to him. If he loves something, he knows how to take it for himself.”
Silence fell once again, the woman falling prey to burning emotions while the nightmare settled in the man's breast. His anger grew at her reticence, and because she was not alarmed or afraid.
“Do you not see that this threatens to curtail your freedom?” he said furiously. “Your freedom, Rhadopis, which you are so eager to preserve, and care about so much. Your freedom, which has destroyed hearts and devastated so many souls, and which has made anguish, grief, and despair plagues that have smitten every man on Biga. Why are you not afraid to stay here and lose it?”
She disapproved of the way he was describing her freedom and she vented her indignation. “Would you hurl such vile accusations at me when my only fault is that I have not allowed myself to be a hypocrite and tell a man falsely that I love him?”
“And why do you not love, Rhadopis? Even Tahu, the mighty warrior, who has fearlessly plunged into the hazards of war in the South and the North, who was raised on the backs of chariots, has loved. Why do you not love?”
She smiled mysteriously. “I wonder if I possess an answer to your question?” she asked.
“I do not care about that now. That is not why I came. I am asking you what you are going to do.”
“I do not know,” she said quietly and with astonishing resignation.
His eyes glowed like hot coals, consuming her in a fury. He felt a mad urge to smash her head into pieces, then suddenly she looked at him and he sighed deeply. “I thought you would be more jealous of your freedom.”