Chapter VI. The Virtuous noble

-He is generous and caring. He’ll look after us and defend us. You can trust me, Zainab.

Hatshepsut came up to her in a tiny room in the palace’s basement, gave her a sly grin, and continued: “Beautiful, too; what a young man; didn’t you notice his looks at you; oh, how I would like to be in his arms.”

-I’m still too young for this, though.

-young?! At a younger age than you, I reached full maturity.  What distinguishes this country, O Zainab is that the women in it mature quickly, and the fire of lust ignites in them faster. This is what will happen to you soon, my dear.

-Why do you use the word lust?

she walked over to her and expressed sympathy for her innocence while saying, “Poor, how innocent you are. Come, stand here in front of the mirror, and take a look at this body. I would not let the old man have it, but Hassan, he deserves it.”

She began to spin around and examine her body.

Hatshepsut: You’re getting the picture, lady of the palace.

-What? The Lady of the Palace?

-Yes, this vast palace above us, with all its servants and decency, you will be its first lady; do not be concerned with these matters; let me deal with them; be concerned with your beauty and grace, for you are kind, innocent, and pure; be what you are, and leave the rest for me.

Zainab: But I am not Fatima or you; I am not as gorgeous as you; I am a very ordinary girl.
She chuckled and said, “Poor you. A woman’s beauty is not in her face. No, my little girl, as long as her beauty is in her mind, and what she can do, men have so many weaknesses. And how strange that their greatest strengths—and most perilous traits—are nobility and chivalry.”

-Don’t worry about problems, my dear. I have some skills.

She gestured with her fingers as if she were playing the piano, then sneakily smirked at her and glanced at her.

If there is anything that sets Hassan apart, it is his commitment to the tenets of the Islamic faith, his loyalty to the family legacy, and his hopes to free Egypt from British authority and restore it to Ottoman sovereignty as a vital part of the Caliphate state.

The spirit of youth ignites in him, impulsive towards the truth, loved by all who knew him, the servants, farmers, and guards, very simple, humble, always keen to share their food with the peasants, and stayed up until dawn with the guards, visited the sick, and provided aid to the needy, generous and giving.

A perfect mixture, for a great man, but on the other hand, a dangerous mixture, of nobility and chivalry, for all it takes is a poor, innocent girl, in need of help, this nobleman takes care of her, and pledges to protect her.

A girl with an ancient curse, an evil spirit, and a master of manipulating and using men. Or perhaps it is a curse that has just been born, springing from its depths, with no objective other than survival, and with the girl’s lack of knowledge, and her lack of life experiences, these means of salvation may prove disastrous to everyone around her.

-Why didn’t Fatima confess anything about you?! She told me everything that happened with her, except that she was insisting that you were not there, and that there was no curse inside her!

-She did not perceive me the same way that you did, as I already informed you, my dear. Weak and unlike you. You are a powerful, admirable woman within. You would be regarded as a deity by all if you lived during the reign of the Pharaohs.

-Deity? I ask forgiveness from God, how do you say this, there is no god but one God, and all the gods of the Pharaohs, and their beliefs, are blasphemy in God, this is how my mother taught me.

With a sarcastic laugh, and a loud voice: God?! Was it fair for him to leave Fatima to her fate, burning in the oven, while the old man was enjoying his life as if nothing had happened? Where is he from what almost happened to you, Zainab?!
She raised her head, her eyes widened, their pupils decreased, a sudden fit of anger, her face reddened, she cried: Perhaps he is in another place, but he is not here, not in Upper Egypt. You weren’t saved by your one God, Zainab, as you claim, but by me.

She briefly felt intimidated by her before recalling. Hatshepsut appeared to experience brief outbursts of rage that quickly subsided. The final time she remembered they had murdered her in the crypt, this is what happened.

She reflects on her previous statement regarding God. Her arguments make sense. Maybe he does, but maybe not in Upper Egypt.

-Had you experience the same emotions as Fatima had while the wise man tormented and raped her?

After a little period of silence, she said, “and when she was burned in the oven.”

She responded in a dejected tone and with a pitying expression: ” Yes, how sad I was for her, she was in so much pain, that at some point I thought of leaving her, but that wickedness would not stop.”

-How can you be certain he won’t stop?

-The old man is a pervert, they are all like this, deviants, they take advantage of situations for the sake of money and lust, it is their curse, the difference being that it is a curse that is born with a person, makes him do all the evils that do not cross your mind. While me!! He does not even know that I am inside her in the first place. All I’ve ever wanted and still want is a friend who will make me laugh as well as her. Poor me, I can’t hurt anyone.

-What steps should I take to get away from them?

-There is no escape from the old man other than to him, O Zainab, she responded as she approached her with a look full of deceit and treachery. You must be deceitful and wicked like him, and you must own a whip for whipping and fire for kindling.

There is no third option in this world; you are either the elderly man or Fatima, she said.

-It’s not in my persona to act the way he did, therefore I can’t!

– your persona? Do you desire life or the oven right now, and who cares about your character?

Without waiting for her response, she continued: “The oven will haunt you until the day you die, in some shape or form.” You must learn when to put on your kind and loving face, when to be poor, helpless, and vulnerable, and when to be powerful, a fraud, and even more deceitful than the old one.

This world would trample us underfoot if we don’t, Zainab, since there is no place in it for the poor ones, she said as she sat next to her and stared directly into her eyes.

We won’t let them do that, she said, turning red as though she was about to have another tantrum.

Zainab: What should we do?

She shouted in a loud voice and a terrifying tone as she stood on her feet, opened her arms in the air, and held her head high in arrogance and pride. She said, “You will learn when you are a god, everyone will fall at his feet in fear and terror, you will be the whole universe and the world revolves around you, domineering, tyrannical, broken destroyer, oppressor, tyrant.”

A deity, Zainab

Either you are a deity, or you are slaughtered in a dark crypt, or you are burned in a blazing furnace.

A deity, in his heart there is neither mercy nor pity.

A deity of torment, Zainab.

A deity, of torment, there is no place for us among the slaves.