Naguib Mahfouz - Three Novels of Ancient Egypt

She looked up at him with eyes that still held their astonishment and seemed not to know what to reply. The king did not wait long but said in a quiet voice and an inexpressive tone, “Today you are released, Princess.”

Her face indicated that she had understood nothing, so he said again, “Do you not hear what I say? Today you are released, free. Your captivity is at an end, Princess, and you have a right to go free.”

Her astonishment increased and hope appeared in her eyes. She said impatiently, “Is it true what you say? Is it true what you say?”

“What I say is an accomplished fact.”

Her face lit up and her cheeks reddened. Then she hesitated for a second and enquired, “But how can that be?”

“Aha! I read your eager hopes in your eyes. Are you not hoping that your father's victory is the reason for your regaining your liberty? That is what I read. But it is his defeat, alas, that has put an end to your enslavement.”

She was tongue-tied and said not a word. He informed her briefly of her father's envoys’ proposals and what had been agreed. Then he said, “And soon you will be taken to your father and journey with him wherever he journeys. So this is a blessed day for us.”

Shades of sorrow enshrouded her face, her features froze, and she looked away. Ahmose asked her, “Do you find your sorrow at the defeat greater than your joy at your release?”

She replied, “It behooves you not to gloat over me, for we shall leave your country as honorable people, just as we lived in it.”

Ahmose said with visible disquiet, “I am not gloating over you, Princess. We ourselves have tasted the bitterness of defeat and these long wars have taught us to acknowledge your courage and bravery.”

Comforted, she said, “I thank you, King.”

For the first time, he heard her speak in tones empty of anger and pride. Affected, he said to her, smiling sadly, “I see that you call me ‘King,’ Princess.”

Turning her eyes away, she replied, “Because you are the king of this valley, without any to share it with you. I, however, shall never be called ‘Princess’ after today.”

The king was even more affected, for he had not expected her unyieldingness to soften in this way. He had thought that she would become yet more arrogant in defeat. He said sadly, “Princess, the experiences of this world are a register of pleasure and pain. You have experienced life in its sweetness and bitterness and you still have a future.”

With amazing serenity she said, “Indeed, we have a future, behind the mirages of the unknown desert and we shall meet our fate with courage.”

Silence reigned. Their eyes met and he read in hers purity and gentleness. He remembered the lady of the cabin, who saved his life and fed him the nectar of love and tenderness. It was as though he were seeing her for the first time since then and, his heart shaking violently, he said earnestly and sadly, “Soon we will be parted and you will not care. But I shall always remember that you — were uncivil and harsh — with me.”

Sadness showed in her eyes and her mouth parted in a slight smile as she said, “King, you know little about us. We are a people who find death easier to bear than abasement.”

“I never wanted to abase you. But I was deluded by hope, misled by my misplaced confidence in a standing that I believed I had in your heart.”

She said in a low voice, “Would it not be abasement for me to open my arms to my captor and my father's enemy?”

He replied bitterly, “Love knows nothing of such logic.”

She took refuge in silence. Then, as though persuaded by his words, she murmured in a low voice that he did not hear, “I blame only myself.” Her eyes took on a faraway look and with a sudden motion she stretched out her hand to her bed pillow and took out from beneath it the necklace with the emerald heart and put it around her neck calmly and submissively. His eyes followed her, unbelieving. Then he threw himself at her side, unable to contain himself longer, encircled her neck with his arm and drew her madly and violently to his chest. She offered him no resistance but said sadly, “Beware. It is too late.”

The pressure of his arms around her increased and he said in a trembling voice, “Amenridis, how can you bring yourself to say that? How can I discover my happiness only when it is about to disappear? No, I will not let you go.”

She gazed at him with sympathy and pity and asked him, “What will you do?”

“I shall keep you at my side.”

“Don't you know what my staying with you means? Will you sacrifice thirty thousand captives of your people and many more of your soldiers?”

He frowned, his eyes darkened, and he murmured as though speaking to himself, “My father and grandfather were martyred for my people and I have given them my life. Will they begrudge my heart its happiness?”

She shook her head sadly and said gently, “Listen to me, Isfmis — let me call you by that dear name, because it is the first name I have loved in my life. There is no escape from parting. We shall part. We shall part. You will never agree to sacrifice thirty thousand of your people, whom you love, and I shall never agree to the massacre of my father and my people. So let each one of us bear his lot of pain.”

He looked at her distractedly, as though he could not bear that his only lot in love should be the acceptance of parting and pain, and said to her hopefully, “Amenridis, don't rush to despair, and shun thoughts of parting. Hearing the word pass so easily over your tongue brings back the madness to my blood. Amenridis, let me knock on all doors, even that of your father. Why should I not ask him for your hand?”

She smiled sadly and said, gently touching his hand, “Alas, Isfmis, you do not know what you are saying. Do you think my father would accept the marriage of his daughter to the victorious king who subdued him and exiled him from the country in which he was born and on whose throne he sat? I know my father better than you and there is no hope. The only path is patience.”

He listened to her distractedly, asking himself, “Is the person who is speaking in this low, broken, sad voice really the Princess Amenridis for whom, in her folly, scorn, and conceit, the whole world was not large enough?” Everything seemed strange and abominable to his eyes and he said angrily, “The least of my soldiers would not so neglect his heart that he would allow anyone to separate it from what it loved.”

“You are a king, my lord, and kings have greater pleasures than the rest and heavier duties — like the towering tree, which gets a larger portion of the sun's rays and the breezes than the plants beneath it and greater exposure to the unruliness of the wind and the blustering of the storms.”

Ahmose groaned, and said, “Ah, how wretched I am! I have loved you from the first meeting on my ship.”

She lowered her eyes and said simply and honestly, “Love knocked at my heart that same day but I did not know it until later. My feelings awoke the night Commander Rukh forced you to fight him and my concern for you showed me my sickness. I spent the night in confusion and turmoil, not knowing what to do — with this newborn… until infatuation overwhelmed me a few days later and I lost my senses.”

“In the cabin, isn't that so?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, God! What will my life be without you?”

“It will be like my life without you, Isfmis.”

He clasped her to his bosom and laid his cheek against hers, as though their touching could drive away the specter of parting that loomed before them. He could not bear it that he should have discovered his love and bade it farewell within the same hour. His thoughts ran in all directions seeking a solution but found their way barred at every turn by despair and grief, and the best that he could do in the end was to tighten his arms around her. Both of them felt that the time had come for them to part but neither moved, and they remained like one.