Everything suggested that she should relax, yet she was plagued with misgivings. The messenger had left her palace only hours before; how then was she to wait for a month or more? She was at her wits’ end, when suddenly the thought occurred to her to invite Tahu to come and meet her. She would not have dreamed of the idea the day before, but today it reassured her and she felt inclined to pursue it, forced along in the same way one is forced to embrace a danger one fears, but cannot deflect or escape from. She thought about it, unsure for a moment which course to take, then she said to herself, “Why not invite him and talk to him to see what his heart conceals. Perhaps I will be able to guard against his malice, if there is malice to be guarded against, and I shall save Tahu from himself, and save His Majesty from his evil.” Her desire had turned into a determination that would accept no delay and seized her with all its might until she could think of nothing else. She immediately called Shayth and ordered her to go to Commander Tahu's palace and summon him.
Shayth went off while her mistress waited nervously in the reception hall. She had no doubt that he would accept her invitation. As she waited, it dawned on her how nervous she was, and she compared herself now to how strong and unfeeling she had been in the past. She realized that from the moment she had fallen in love she had turned into a weak and nervous woman whose sleep was haunted with ridiculous delusions and false fears.
Tahu came as she had expected. He was dressed in his official uniform, which reassured her somewhat, as if he were telling her that he had forgotten Rhadopis, the courtesan of the white palace, and that he was now in audience with the friend of his lord and majesty, Pharaoh.
The commander bowed his head in reverence and respect, and speaking quietly and without the slightest trace of emotion, said, “May the gods make happy your days, my venerable lady.”
She examined his face, saying, “And your days too, noble commander. I thank you for accepting my invitation.”
Tahu bowed again. “I am at your command, my lady.”
He looked the same as he had before, strong, sturdy, and copper-skinned, but it did not escape her searching glance that some change had come over him that eyes other than hers would not have observed. She discerned upon the man's face a withered look that had dimmed the sparkle in his eyes and had quenched the all-encompassing spirit that once effused from his face. She was worried that the reason might be the events of that strange night they had parted ways almost a year ago. How awful it was! Tahu had been like a swirling wind; now he was like stagnant air.
“I have invited you, Commander,” she said, “to congratulate you on the great trust placed in you by the king.”
The commander seemed surprised and said, “Thank you, my lady. It is an old favor, bestowed upon me by the gods.”
Forcing a smile, she said slyly, “And I thank you for the fine praise you lavished upon my idea.”
The man thought for a moment before recalling, “Perhaps my lady means the brilliant idea that her lofty mind inspired?”
She nodded, and he continued, “It is a wonderful idea, worthy of your outstanding intelligence.”
She showed no sign of pleasure, and said, “Its success guarantees the power and sovereignty of His Majesty, and peace and stability for the kingdom.”
“That is true without doubt,” said the commander. “That is why we greeted it with such enthusiasm.”
She looked deep into his eyes and said, “The day will soon come when my idea will need your strength and power to bring it to fruition, to be crowned with victory and success.”
Tahu bowed his head and said, “Thank you for your valued trust.”
The woman was silent for a moment. Tahu was dignified, composed, and serious, not as she had known him in the past. She had not expected from him otherwise, and now she sensed trust and reassurance in his presence. She felt a burning impulse to bring up the old matter and to ask him to forgive her and forget, but words failed her. Her bewilderment got the better of her and she was afraid she would say the wrong thing. Reluctant and confused, she abandoned the idea. Then, thinking at the last moment to announce to him her good intentions in another way, she held out her hand, and smiled as she said, “Noble commander, I extend to you the hand of friendship and appreciation.”
Tahu placed his rough hand against her soft and tender palm. He seemed moved, but he did not answer. Thus ended their short, crucial encounter.
On his way back to his boat he asked himself frantically why the woman had invited him. He gave free rein to the emotions he had stifled in her presence, flying into a rage as the color faded from his face and his body shook. Before long he had completely lost his mind, and as the oars plied the surface of the water he swayed like a drunkard, as if returning from a battle defeated, his wisdom and honor in shreds. The palm trees lining the shore seemed to dance wildly and the air was thick with choking dust. The blood rushed through his veins, hot and impassioned, poisoned with madness. He found a jug of wine on the table in the cabin and he poured it into his mouth. The drink made him reckless and moody and he threw himself down onto the couch in a state of abject despair.
Of course he had not forgotten her. She was concealed in some deep hidden recess of his mind, forever shut away by consolation, patience, and his strong sense of duty. Now that he had seen her for the first time in a year, the hidden deposit in his soul had exploded and the flames had spread to consume his entire being. He felt tormented by shame and despair, his pride slaughtered. Now he had tasted ignominy and defeat twice in the same battle. He felt his unbalanced head spinning as he spoke furiously to himself. He knew why she had gone to the trouble of summoning him. She had invited him to find out if she could trust his loyalty, to put her heart at rest regarding her beloved lord and majesty. In order to do so she had feigned friendship and admiration. How strange that Rhadopis, capricious and cruel, was suffering pain and anguish, learning what love is, and what fears and pains come in its wake. She feared some treachery from Tahu — who once had clung to the sole of her sandal like dust and she had shaken him off in a moment of boredom and disgust. Woe to the heavens and the earth, woe to all the world. He was filled with an unspeakable despair that crushed his proud and mighty spirit to powder. His anger was violent and insane. It set his blood on fire and pressed on his ears so that he could hardly hear a sound, and it stained his eyes so that he saw the world a blaze of red.
As soon as the boat docked at the steps of the royal palace he strode off and, oblivious to the greetings of the guards, staggered up the garden toward the barracks and the quarters of the commander of the guard. Suddenly he found Prime Minister Sofkhatep walking toward him on his way back from the king's chambers. The prime minister greeted him with a smile. Tahu stood before him expressionless, as if he did not know him. The prime minister was surprised and asked, “How are you, Commander Tahu?”
“I am like a lion that has fallen into a trap,” he replied with strange haste, “or like a tortoise lying upturned on top of a burning oven.”
Sofkhatep was taken aback. “What are you saying? What likens you to a lion in a trap, or a tortoise on an oven?”
“The tortoise lives for a long time,” said Tahu as if in a daze. “It moves slowly, and is weighed down by a heavy load. The lion shrinks back, roars, springs violently, and finishes off his prey.”
Sofkhatep gazed into his face in amazement, saying, “Are you angry? You are not your usual self.”
“I am angry. Would you deny me that, venerable sir? I am Tahu, lord of war and battle. Ah, how can the world put up with this ponderous peace? The gods of war are parched and I must one day quench their burning thirst.”