Rhadopis's face turned red with rage. “That is enough, woman!” she shouted. “This is no business deal.”
“I am sorry. If I were brave enough, my lady, I would ask you what you were doing then.”
Rhadopis sighed, “Stop your idle prattle. Can you not see that I am serious about this?”
The slave girl stared at her mistress's beautiful face and was silent for a moment, then said, “May the gods bless you my lady. I am confused, and am asking myself why my lady is serious?”
Rhadopis sighed again and threw herself down on the divan. “I am in love, Shayth,” she said quietly.
The slave girl beat her chest with her hand. “You are in love, my lady!” she said, alarmed and astonished.
“Yes, I am in love. Why are you so surprised?”
“I beg your pardon, my lady. Love is a new visitor. I have not heard you mention his name before. How did he come?”
Rhadopis smiled and said as if in a dream, “It is no cause for surprise, a woman in love. It is a common enough thing.”
“Not here though,” said Shayth as she pointed to her mistress's heart. “I always thought it was an impregnable fortress. How did it fall? Tell me, by God.”
Dreams shone in Rhadopis's eyes, and the memory evoked exuberant feelings in her soul. “I have fallen in love, Shayth,” she said in a voice that was a whisper. “And love is a wonderful thing. At what moment in time love knocked at the door of my heart, how it stole into the depths of my soul, I have no idea. It confuses me enormously, but I knew the truth in my heart, for it beat in violent turmoil, and stirred when I saw his face and when I heard his voice. I never knew it to stir at any of those things before, but a hidden voice whispered in my ear that this man and no other would own my heart. I was overcome by a violent, sweet, painful sensation, and felt an unmistakable feeling that he should be a part of me like my heart is, and I should be a part of him like his soul. I can no longer imagine how life can be good and existence pleasant without this blending of ourselves.”
“How perplexing, my lady,” said Shayth breathlessly.
“Yes, Shayth. As long as I enjoyed total freedom, I took up my seat atop a high hill and my eyes roamed over a strange wide world. I would spend the evening with dozens of men, enjoying pleasant conversation, delighting in works of art, savoring lewd jokes and bawdiness, and singing, yet all the time an inconsolable weariness weighed down on my heart, and an unbearable loneliness lay over my soul. Now, Shayth, my hopes are narrowed down and concentrated on one man — my lord. He is my whole world. Life has stirred again and chased away the weariness and loneliness that lay in my path and shone forth light and bliss upon it. I lost my self in this wide — world and now I have found it again in my beloved. See what love can do, Shayth!”
The slave nodded her head in bewilderment and said, “It is a wonderful thing as you say, my lady. Perhaps it is sweeter than life itself. Indeed, I ask myself what I myself feel of love. Love is like hunger and men are like food. I love men as much as I love food. I don't worry about it, and that is enough for me.”
Rhadopis laughed a delicate laugh like a note plucked on a harp string, and rising to her feet, went to the balcony that looked over the garden. She ordered Shayth to bring her the lyre, for she felt a desire to play the strings and sing. Why not, when the whole world was joined in joyful serenade?
Shayth disappeared for a moment then returned carrying the lyre and placed it before her mistress. “Would it bother you to delay the music for a while?” she said.
“Why?” asked Rhadopis as she picked up the lyre.
“One of the slaves asked me to inform you that there is someone who seeks permission to meet you.”
A look of disapproval crossed her face. “Does he not know who it is?” she asked curtly.
“He says he is… he claims he has been sent by the artist Henfer.”
She recalled what Henfer had said to her two days previously about the pupil he had appointed to take his place in carrying out the decoration of the summer room. “Bring him to me,” she told Shayth.
She felt irritated and annoyed. She held tightly onto the lyre and her fingertips plucked the strings softly, then angrily, playing music with no unity between its parts.
Shayth returned followed by a young man, who bowed his head in reverence and said in a soft voice, “May the gods make happy your day, my lady.”
She put the lyre to one side and looked at him through her long eyelashes. He was of average height, slender build, and dark complexion with handsome features and remarkably wide eyes in which appeared signs of candor and naivete. She was taken by his young age and the sincerity in his eyes, and she wondered if he would really be able to complete the work of the great sculptor Henfer. But she was pleased to see him and the wave of irritation that had come over her moments before disappeared. “Are you the pupil whom the sculptor Henfer has chosen to decorate the summer room?” she asked him.
“Yes, my lady,” said the youth with obvious embarrassment as his eyes wavered between the face of Rhadopis and the balcony floor.
“Excellent. What is your name?”
“Benamun, Benamun Ben Besar.”
“Benamun. And how old are you, Benamun? You look young to me.”
He blushed, and said, “I will be eighteen next Misra.”
“I think you may be exaggerating a little.”
“Certainly not, my lady. I am telling the truth.”
“What a child you are, Benamun.”
A look of unease appeared in his wide, honey-colored eyes, as if he were afraid that she would object to him because of his young age. She read his fears and smiled, saying, “Do not worry. I know that a sculptor's gift is in his hands, not in his age.”
“My master, the great artist Henfer, has borne witness to my ability,” he said enthusiastically.
“Have you carried out important work before?”
“Yes, my lady. I decorated one side of the summer room in the palace of Lord Ani, governor of Biga.”
“You are a child prodigy, Benamun.”
He blushed and his eyes flashed with delight. He was overjoyed. Rhadopis summoned Shayth and ordered her to take him to the summer room. The youth hesitated a moment before following the slave and said, “You should be free for me every day, at any time you wish.”
“I am used to such duties. Will you carve a full image of me?”
“Or half. Or maybe I will just do the face. It will depend on the general design of the work.”
He bowed and followed Shayth out of the room. Rhadopis remembered sculptor Henfer and considered the irony: had it occurred to him that the palace he had asked her to open to his pupil would now be forbidden to him forever?
She felt relief at the effect this naive young man had left in her, for he seemed to have provoked in her heart a new emotion that had not come to life before. It was the maternal instinct, for how quickly compassion for him had glowed in her eyes, from whose magic no man had found salvation. She prayed sincerely to Sothis to preserve his trusting candor and to deliver him from pain and despair.
Benamun
The next morning, as she had promised, she went to the summer room in the garden. There she found Benamun sitting at a table. He had spread out a sheet of papyrus upon it and was drawing shapes and images, deeply engrossed in his — work. When he became aware of her presence he set down his pen, rose to his feet, and bowed to her. She greeted him and, smiling, said, “I shall make this hour of the morning for you, for it is the one I possess in my long day.”
“Thank you, my lady,” said the boy in his shy quiet voice. “But we shall not begin today. I am still — working on the general idea of the design.”
“Alas, you have deceived me, young man.”
“God forbid, my lady. But I have had a wonderful idea.”
She looked at his wide clear eyes and with a hint of mockery in her voice said, “You mean that young head of yours can come up with wonderful ideas?”