There is none left save that malicious messenger. Alas, Rhadopis is deceived.”
A glint shone in Tahu's eye as he said, “I will drag him here and wring the truth from his mouth.”
The king shook his head, saying, “Slowly, Tahu, slowly. The villain is not waiting for you to go and arrest him. Perhaps, as we speak, he is enjoying the fruits of his treachery in a safe place known only to the priests. How was the deception accomplished? I cannot think, but I will swear by the Lord Sothis that they learned of the letter before the messenger set off. Wasting no time, they sent an emissary of their own. Mine came back with the dispatch, theirs with the delegation. Treachery, villainy! I am living like a prisoner among my own people. May the gods curse the world and all mankind.”
The two men did not make a sound, out of sadness and pity. Tahu detected a look of distress in his lord's eyes and, wanting to instill some fresh hope into their dire mood, he said, “Let our consolation be that we shall strike the decisive blow.”
The king was exasperated. “And how shall we aim this blow?” he asked.
“The governors are on their way to the provinces to muster soldiers.”
“And do you imagine that the priests will stand, hands bound, before an army they know has been assembled to eradicate them?”
Sofkhatep was laboring under a formidable burden, and though he was willing to accept the king's prognosis, he wished to get the weight off his chest so he said, as if he were making a wish, “Perchance our opinion is a fallacy, and what we deem treason is no more than coincidence, and these dun clouds will scatter at the least cause.”
Pharaoh flared up again at this show of sympathy. “The image of those priests with their heads lowered still hangs in my mind. I have no doubt they harbor an awesome secret in their hearts. There is not a single reason to suspect otherwise. When the high priest rose to speak, he challenged the zeal of the governors with ease, delivering his words with unbounded confidence. Perhaps even now he is speaking with ten tongues. How despicable treason is. Merenra will not live his life at the beck and call of the clergy.”
Tahu, sorely riled at his lord's distress, said, “My lord, you have at your command a battalion of guards of strapping build, each one a match for a thousand of their men, each of whom would gladly sacrifice himself for his lord's sake.”
Pharaoh brushed him aside and, sprawling out on a sumptuous divan, surrendered to the torrid thoughts that surged through his head. Might not his hope be realized in spite of all these woes? Or would his project fail once and for all? What a historic hour in his life this was. He stood at the crossroads between glory and humiliation, power and collapse, love and loss. He had refused to yield over the estates as a matter of principle. Would he soon find himself compelled to capitulate in order to preserve his throne? Ah, that day would never come, and if it did, he would never allow himself to be abased. He would remain to his dying breath noble, glorious, and mighty. In spite of himself he let out a mournful sigh and said, “The pity of it, that treason should lie in fortune's way.”
Sofkhatep's voice put an end to his musing. “My Lord, the time of the pageant is at hand.”
Pharaoh peered at him like one roused from a deep slumber and muttered, “Is that so?” Then he stood up and strode over to the balcony, which looked out over the grand courtyard of the palace. The company of chariots stood in ranks at the ready, and in the distance, waves of clamorous revelers could be seen breaking into the square. Upon this teeming world he cast a pallid glance and returned to where he had been standing. Then he entered his chamber and disappeared for a brief time. He re-emerged wearing the leopard skin insignia of the priesthood and the double crown. All present made ready to depart but before they could make a move, a palace chamberlain entered, saluted his lord and said, “Lord Tarn, commissioner of the Abu police, requests permission to stand before his lord.”
The king and his two counselors, remarking the signs of consternation on the man's face, granted it. The chief constable saluted his lord and, with great haste and much perturbation, said, “My lord, I have come to humbly beseech your sacred personage to refrain from proceeding to the temple of the Nile.”
The two men's hearts skipped a beat as the king said anxiously, “And what has led you to make this recommendation?”
Panting heavily, the man replied, “I have this very hour arrested a large number of people who were directing malicious chants at a noble personage held in high esteem by my lord, and I fear the same chants may be repeated during the procession.”
The king's heart quivered and caldrons of rage boiled in his blood as he asked the man in a hesitating voice, “What did they say?”
The man swallowed nervously and, with some embarrassment, said, “They shouted, ‘Down with the whore! Down with her who plunders the temples!’ “
At this the king flew into a rage and cried out in a voice like thunder, “What sore affliction! I must strike the blow that will rid me of them once and for all or else my whole being will explode!”
The man went on, panic in his voice, “The miscreants resisted my men, and pitched battles took place between them and us and for a while there was chaos and disarray, at which point more evil and seditious cries went up.”
The king ground his teeth in exasperation and disgust as he asked, “What else did they say?”
The man looked down at the floor and said almost in a whisper, “The insolent villains violated one more exalted.”
“I?” said the king in disbelief.
The man fell back in silence and the color drained out of his face. Sofkhatep was unable to contain himself and cried out, “How can I believe my ears?”
And Tahu stormed, “This is a madness that cannot be imagined.”
Pharaoh laughed nervously and, with bitter rancor in his voice, said, “How did my people mention me, Tarn? Speak, man. I order you.”
The police commissioner said, “The scoundrels cried out, ‘Our king is frivolous. We want a serious king.’ “
The king laughed a laugh like the first, and said sarcastically, “What a pity. Merenra is no longer — worthy to sit on the throne of the clergy. What else did they say, Tam?”
The man spoke so softly that his voice was scarcely audible, “They called out the name of Her Majesty, Queen Nitocris, many times, my lord.”
A sudden glint flashed in the king's eye and the name Nitocris echoed softly between his lips, as if he had recalled something old that had long since been forgotten. The two advisers exchanged a look of alarm. Pharaoh sensed their consternation, and the quandary of the police commissioner. Pharaoh did not want to make of the queen a subject for bitter talk, but he could not help wondering with some dismay what the queen's feelings toward these slogans might be. He was utterly depressed and felt a violent wave of anger, defiance, and recklessness wash over him. Addressing Sofkhatep, he said brusquely, “Is it time to depart?”
But Tam said in bewilderment, “Will my lord not desist from going?”
And the king said, “Are you not listening to me, Prime Minister?”
Sofkhatep was perturbed, and said humbly, “In a moment, my lord. I thought my lord was resolved not to go.”
But the king said with a calmness like that which comes before the storm, “I shall go to the temple of the Nile, passing through the infuriated multitudes, and we shall see what will come to pass. Return to your duties, Tam.”
Hope and poison
That same morning, Rhadopis was lounging on a sumptuous divan, dreaming. It was one of those rare days, bursting with festive joy and promising great victory for her. What happiness, what joy. This day her heart was like a pool of clear and fragrant water, flowers sprouting around its edges, and all about in the air nightingales chirping their sweet refrains. How joyous the world is! When would she receive the news of victory? When evening came and the sun began its journey to the underworld, and her heart commenced its own journey into the realm of abandonment with her darling beloved. How marvelous was evening time. Evening time, hour of the beloved, when he will come into her with his lithe figure and glowing youth, and wrap his sinewy arms around her slender waist, as he whispers her name softly in her ear with glad tidings of victory, saying, “The pain is over. The governors have gone on their ways to amass the soldiery. Now, let us see to our love.” Ah yes, how beautiful evening time is.