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diff --git a/2856-0.txt b/2856-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b2c91d7 --- /dev/null +++ b/2856-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10092 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Moon of Israel, by H. Rider Haggard + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: Moon of Israel + +Author: H. Rider Haggard + +Release Date: October, 2001 [eBook #2856] +[Most recently updated: January 23, 2022] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +Produced by: John Bickers, Dagny, Emma Dudding and David Widger + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MOON OF ISRAEL *** + + + + +Moon of Israel + +by H. Rider Haggard + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER I. SCRIBE ANA COMES TO TANIS +CHAPTER II. THE BREAKING OF THE CUP +CHAPTER III. USERTI +CHAPTER IV. THE COURT OF BETROTHAL +CHAPTER V. THE PROPHECY +CHAPTER VI. THE LAND OF GOSHEN +CHAPTER VII. THE AMBUSH +CHAPTER VIII. SETI COUNSELS PHARAOH +CHAPTER IX. THE SMITING OF AMON +CHAPTER X. THE DEATH OF PHARAOH +CHAPTER XI. THE CROWNING OF AMENMESES +CHAPTER XII. THE MESSAGE OF JABEZ +CHAPTER XIII. THE RED NILE +CHAPTER XIV. KI COMES TO MEMPHIS +CHAPTER XV. THE NIGHT OF FEAR +CHAPTER XVI. JABEZ SELLS HORSES +CHAPTER XVII. THE DREAM OF MERAPI +CHAPTER XVIII. THE CROWNING OF MERAPI + + + + + + +AUTHOR’S NOTE + + +This book suggests that the real Pharaoh of the Exodus was not Meneptah +or Merenptah, son of Rameses the Great, but the mysterious usurper, +Amenmeses, who for a year or two occupied the throne between the death +of Meneptah and the accession of his son the heir-apparent, the +gentle-natured Seti II. + +Of the fate of Amenmeses history says nothing; he may well have perished +in the Red Sea or rather the Sea of Reeds, for, unlike those of Meneptah +and the second Seti, his body has not been found. + +Students of Egyptology will be familiar with the writings of the scribe +and novelist Anana, or Ana as he is here called. + +It was the Author’s hope to dedicate this story to Sir Gaston Maspero, +K.C.M.G., Director of the Cairo Museum, with whom on several occasions +he discussed its plot some years ago. Unhappily, however, weighed down +by one of the bereavements of the war, this great Egyptologist died in +the interval between its writing and its publication. Still, since Lady +Maspero informs him that such is the wish of his family, he adds the +dedication which he had proposed to offer to that eminent writer and +student of the past. + + + +Dear Sir Gaston Maspero, + + + +When you assured me as to a romance of mine concerning ancient Egypt, +that it was so full of the “inner spirit of the old Egyptians” +that, after kindred efforts of your own and a lifetime of study, you +could not conceive how it had been possible for it to spring from the +brain of a modern man, I thought your verdict, coming from such a +judge, one of the greatest compliments that ever I received. It is this +opinion of yours indeed which induces me to offer you another tale of a +like complexion. Especially am I encouraged thereto by a certain +conversation between us in Cairo, while we gazed at the majestic +countenance of the Pharaoh Meneptah, for then it was, as you may +recall, that you said you thought the plan of this book probable and +that it commended itself to your knowledge of those dim days. + +With gratitude for your help and kindness and the sincerest homage to +your accumulated lore concerning the most mysterious of all the +perished peoples of the earth, + +Believe me to remain + +Your true admirer, + +H. Rider Haggard. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +SCRIBE ANA COMES TO TANIS + + +This is the story of me, Ana the scribe, son of Meri, and of certain of +the days that I have spent upon the earth. These things I have written +down now that I am very old in the reign of Rameses, the third of that +name, when Egypt is once more strong and as she was in the ancient +time. I have written them before death takes me, that they may be +buried with me in death, for as my spirit shall arise in the hour of +resurrection, so also these my words may arise in their hour and tell +to those who shall come after me upon the earth of what I knew upon the +earth. Let it be as Those in heaven shall decree. At least I write and +what I write is true. + +I tell of his divine Majesty whom I loved and love as my own soul, Seti +Meneptah the second, whose day of birth was my day of birth, the Hawk +who has flown to heaven before me; of Userti the Proud, his queen, she +who afterwards married his divine Majesty, Saptah, whom I saw laid in +her tomb at Thebes. I tell of Merapi, who was named Moon of Israel, and +of her people, the Hebrews, who dwelt for long in Egypt and departed +thence, having paid us back in loss and shame for all the good and ill +we gave them. I tell of the war between the gods of Egypt and the god +of Israel, and of much that befell therein. + +Also I, the King’s Companion, the great scribe, the beloved of the +Pharaohs who have lived beneath the sun with me, tell of other men and +matters. Behold! is it not written in this roll? Read, ye who shall +find it in the days unborn, if your gods have given you skill. Read, O +children of the future, and learn the secrets of that past which to you +is so far away and yet in truth so near. + +As it chanced, although the Prince Seti and I were born upon the same +day and therefore, like the other mothers of gentle rank whose children +saw the light upon that day, my mother received Pharaoh’s gift and I +received the title of Royal Twin in Ra, never did I set eyes upon the +divine Prince Seti until the thirtieth birthday of both of us. All of +which happened thus. + +In those days the great Pharaoh, Rameses the second, and after him his +son Meneptah who succeeded when he was already old, since the mighty +Rameses was taken to Osiris after he had counted one hundred risings of +the Nile, dwelt for the most part at the city of Tanis in the desert, +whereas I dwelt with my parents at the ancient, white-walled city of +Memphis on the Nile. At times Meneptah and his court visited Memphis, +as also they visited Thebes, where this king lies in his royal tomb +to-day. But save on one occasion, the young Prince Seti, the +heir-apparent, the Hope of Egypt, came not with them, because his +mother, Asnefert, did not favour Memphis, where some trouble had +befallen her in youth—they say it was a love matter that cost the +lover his life and her a sore heart—and Seti stayed with his mother +who would not suffer him out of sight of her eyes. + +Once he came indeed when he was fifteen years of age, to be proclaimed +to the people as son of his father, as Son of the Sun, as the future +wearer of the Double Crown, and then we, his twins in Ra—there were +nineteen of us who were gently born—were called by name to meet him +and to kiss his royal feet. I made ready to go in a fine new robe +embroidered in purple with the name of Seti and my own. But on that +very morning by the gift of some evil god I was smitten with spots all +over my face and body, a common sickness that affects the young. So it +happened that I did not see the Prince, for before I was well again he +had left Memphis. + +Now my father Meri was a scribe of the great temple of Ptah, and I was +brought up to his trade in the school of the temple, where I copied +many rolls and also wrote out Books of the Dead which I adorned with +paintings. Indeed, in this business I became so clever that, after my +father went blind some years before his death, I earned enough to keep +him, and my sisters also until they married. Mother I had none, for she +was gathered to Osiris while I was still very little. So life went on +from year to year, but in my heart I hated my lot. While I was still a +boy there rose up in me a desire—not to copy what others had written, +but to write what others should copy. I became a dreamer of dreams. +Walking at night beneath the palm-trees upon the banks of the Nile I +watched the moon shining upon the waters, and in its rays I seemed to +see many beautiful things. Pictures appeared there which were different +from any that I saw in the world of men, although in them were men and +women and even gods. + +Of these pictures I made stories in my heart and at last, although that +was not for some years, I began to write these stories down in my spare +hours. My sisters found me doing so and told my father, who scolded me +for such foolishness which he said would never furnish me with bread +and beer. But still I wrote on in secret by the light of the lamp in my +chamber at night. Then my sisters married, and one day my father died +suddenly while he was reciting prayers in the temple. I caused him to +be embalmed in the best fashion and buried with honour in the tomb he +had made ready for himself, although to pay the costs I was obliged to +copy Books of the Dead for nearly two years, working so hard that I +found no time for the writing of stories. + +When at length I was free from debt I met a maiden from Thebes with a +beautiful face that always seemed to smile, and she took my heart from +my breast into her own. In the end, after I returned from fighting in +the war against the Nine Bow Barbarians, to which I was summoned like +other men, I married her. As for her name, let it be, I will not think +of it even to myself. We had one child, a little girl which died within +two years of her birth, and then I learned what sorrow can mean to man. +At first my wife was sad, but her grief departed with time and she +smiled again as she used to do. Only she said that she would bear no +more children for the gods to take. Having little to do she began to go +about the city and make friends whom I did not know, for of these, being +a beautiful woman, she found many. The end of it was that she departed +back to Thebes with a soldier whom I had never seen, for I was always +working at home thinking of the babe who was dead and how happiness is +a bird that no man can snare, though sometimes, of its own will, it +flies in at his window-place. + +It was after this that my hair went white before I had counted thirty +years. + +Now, as I had none to work for and my wants were few and simple, I found +more time for the writing of stories which, for the most part, were +somewhat sad. One of these stories a fellow scribe borrowed from me and +read aloud to a company, whom it pleased so much that there were many +who asked leave to copy it and publish it abroad. So by degrees I +became known as a teller of tales, which tales I caused to be copied +and sold, though out of them I made but little. Still my fame grew till +on a day I received a message from the Prince Seti, my twin in Ra, +saying that he had read certain of my writings which pleased him much +and that it was his wish to look upon my face. I thanked him humbly by +the messenger and answered that I would travel to Tanis and wait upon +his Highness. First, however, I finished the longest story which I had +yet written. It was called the Tale of Two Brothers, and told how the +faithless wife of one of them brought trouble on the other, so that he +was killed. Of how, also, the just gods brought him to life again, and +many other matters. This story I dedicated to his Highness, the Prince +Seti, and with it in the bosom of my robe I travelled to Tanis, having +hidden about me a sum of gold that I had saved. + +So I came to Tanis at the beginning of winter and, walking to the palace +of the Prince, boldly demanded an audience. But now my troubles began, +for the guards and watchmen thrust me from the doors. In the end I +bribed them and was admitted to the antechambers, where were merchants, +jugglers, dancing-women, officers, and many others, all of them, it +seemed, waiting to see the Prince; folk who, having nothing to do, +pleased themselves by making mock of me, a stranger. When I had mixed +with them for several days, I gained their friendship by telling to +them one of my stories, after which I was always welcome among them. +Still I could come no nearer to the Prince, and as my store of money +was beginning to run low, I bethought me that I would return to +Memphis. + +One day, however, a long-bearded old man, with a gold-tipped wand of +office, who had a bull’s head embroidered on his robe, stopped in +front of me and, calling me a white-headed crow, asked me what I was +doing hopping day by day about the chambers of the palace. I told him +my name and business and he told me his, which it seemed was Pambasa, +one of the Prince’s chamberlains. When I asked him to take me to the +Prince, he laughed in my face and said darkly that the road to his +Highness’s presence was paved with gold. I understood what he meant +and gave him a gift which he took as readily as a cock picks corn, +saying that he would speak of me to his master and that I must come +back again. + +I came thrice and each time that old cock picked more corn. At last I +grew enraged and, forgetting where I was, began to shout at him and +call him a thief, so that folks gathered round to listen. This seemed +to frighten him. At first he looked towards the door as though to +summon the guard to thrust me out; then changed his mind, and in a +grumbling voice bade me follow him. We went down long passages, past +soldiers who stood at watch in them still as mummies in their coffins, +till at length we came to some broidered curtains. Here Pambasa +whispered to me to wait, and passed through the curtains which he left +not quite closed, so that I could see the room beyond and hear all that +took place there. + +It was a small room like to that of any scribe, for on the tables were +palettes, pens of reed, ink in alabaster vases, and sheets of papyrus +pinned upon boards. The walls were painted, not as I was wont to paint +the Books of the Dead, but after the fashion of an earlier time, such +as I have seen in certain ancient tombs, with pictures of wild fowl +rising from the swamps and of trees and plants as they grow. Against +the walls hung racks in which were papyrus rolls, and on the hearth +burned a fire of cedar-wood. + +By this fire stood the Prince, whom I knew from his statues. His years +appeared fewer than mine although we were born upon the same day, and +he was tall and thin, very fair also for one of our people, perhaps +because of the Syrian blood that ran in his veins. His hair was +straight and brown like to that of northern folk who come to trade in +the markets of Egypt, and his eyes were grey rather than black, set +beneath somewhat prominent brows such as those of his father, Meneptah. +His face was sweet as a woman’s, but made curious by certain wrinkles +which ran from the corners of the eyes towards the ears. I think that +these came from the bending of the brow in thought, but others say that +they were inherited from an ancestress on the female side. Bakenkhonsu +my friend, the old prophet who served under the first Seti and died but +the other day, having lived a hundred and twenty years, told me that he +knew her before she was married, and that she and her descendant, Seti, +might have been twins. + +In his hand the Prince held an open roll, a very ancient writing as I, +who am skilled in such matters that have to do with my trade, knew from +its appearance. Lifting his eyes suddenly from the study of this roll, +he saw the chamberlain standing before him. + +“You came at a good time, Pambasa,” he said in a voice that was +very soft and pleasant, and yet most manlike. “You are old and +doubtless wise. Say, are you wise, Pambasa?” + +“Yes, your Highness. I am wise like your Highness’s uncle, Khaemuas +the mighty magician, whose sandals I used to clean when I was young.” + +“Is it so? Then why are you so careful to hide your wisdom which +should be open like a flower for us poor bees to suck at? Well, I am +glad to learn that you are wise, for in this book of magic that I have +been reading I find problems worthy of Khaemuas the departed, whom I +only remember as a brooding, black-browed man much like my cousin, +Amenmeses his son—save that no one can call Amenmeses wise.” + +“Why is your Highness glad?” + +“Because you, being by your own account his equal, can now interpret +the matter as Khaemuas would have done. You know, Pambasa, that had he +lived he would have been Pharaoh in place of my father. He died too +soon, however, which proves to me that there was something in this tale +of his wisdom, since no really wise man would ever wish to be Pharaoh +of Egypt.” + +Pambasa stared with his mouth open. + +“Not wish to be Pharaoh!” he began— + +“Now, Pambasa the Wise,” went on the Prince as though he had not +heard him. “Listen. This old book gives a charm ‘to empty the heart +of its weariness,’ that it says is the oldest and most common sickness +in the world from which only kittens, some children, and mad people are +free. It appears that the cure for this sickness, so says the book, is +to stand on the top of the pyramid of Khufu at midnight at that moment +when the moon is largest in the whole year, and drink from the cup of +dreams, reciting meanwhile a spell written here at length in language +which I cannot read.” + +“There is no virtue in spells, Prince, if anyone can read them.” + +“And no use, it would seem, if they can be read by none.” + +“Moreover, how can any one climb the pyramid of Khufu, which is +covered with polished marble, even in the day let alone at midnight, +your Highness, and there drink of the cup of dreams?” + +“I do not know, Pambasa. All I know is that I weary of this +foolishness, and of the world. Tell me of something that will lighten +my heart, for it is heavy.” + +“There are jugglers without, Prince, one of whom says he can throw a +rope into the air and climb up it until he vanishes into heaven.” + +“When he has done it in your sight, Pambasa, bring him to me, but not +before. Death is the only rope by which we climb to heaven—or be +lowered into hell. For remember there is a god called Set, after whom, +like my great-grandfather, I am named by the way—the priests alone +know why—as well as one called Osiris.” + +“Then there are the dancers, Prince, and among them some very finely +made girls, for I saw them bathing in the palace lake, such as would +have delighted the heart of your grandfather, the great Rameses.” + +“They do not delight my heart who want no naked women prancing here. +Try again, Pambasa.” + +“I can think of nothing else, Prince. Yet, stay. There is a scribe +without named Ana, a thin, sharp-nosed man who says he is your +Highness’s twin in Ra.” + +“Ana!” said the Prince. “He of Memphis who writes stories? +Why did you not say so before, you old fool? Let him enter at once, at +once.” + +Now hearing this I, Ana, walked through the curtains and prostrated +myself, saying, + +“I am that scribe, O Royal Son of the Sun.” + +“How dare you enter the Prince’s presence without being +bidden——” began Pambasa, but Seti broke in with a stern +voice, saying, + +“And how dare you, Pambasa, keep this learned man waiting at my door +like a dog? Rise, Ana, and cease from giving me titles, for we are not +at Court. Tell me, how long have you been in Tanis?” + +“Many days, O Prince,” I answered, “seeking your presence and +in vain.” + +“And how did you win it at last?” + +“By payment, O Prince,” I answered innocently, “as it seems +is usual. The doorkeepers——” + +“I understand,” said Seti, “the doorkeepers! Pambasa, you +will ascertain what amount this learned scribe has disbursed to ‘the +doorkeepers’ and refund him double. Begone now and see to the +matter.” + +So Pambasa went, casting a piteous look at me out of the corner of his +eye. + +“Tell me,” said Seti when he was gone, “you who must be wise +in your fashion, why does a Court always breed thieves?” + +“I suppose for the same reason, O Prince, that a dog’s back breeds +fleas. Fleas must live, and there is the dog.” + +“True,” he answered, “and these palace fleas are not paid +enough. If ever I have power I will see to it. They shall be fewer but +better fed. Now, Ana, be seated. I know you though you do not know me, +and already I have learned to love you through your writings. Tell me +of yourself.” + +So I told him all my simple tale, to which he listened without a word, +and then asked me why I had come to see him. I replied that it was +because he had sent for me, which he had forgotten; also because I +brought him a story that I had dared to dedicate to him. Then I laid +the roll before him on the table. + +“I am honoured,” he said in a pleased voice, “I am greatly +honoured. If I like it well, your story shall go to the tomb with me for +my Ka to read and re-read until the day of resurrection, though first I +will study it in the flesh. Do you know this city of Tanis, Ana?” + +I answered that I knew little of it, who had spent my time here haunting +the doors of his Highness. + +“Then with your leave I will be your guide through it this night, and +afterwards we will sup and talk.” + +I bowed and he clapped his hands, whereon a servant appeared, not +Pambasa, but another. + +“Bring two cloaks,” said the Prince, “I go abroad with the +scribe, Ana. Let a guard of four Nubians, no more, follow us, but at a +distance and disguised. Let them wait at the private entrance.” + +The man bowed and departed swiftly. + +Almost immediately a black slave appeared with two long hooded cloaks, +such as camel-drivers wear, which he helped us to put on. Then, taking +a lamp, he led us from the room through a doorway opposite to that by +which I had entered, down passages and a narrow stair that ended in a +courtyard. Crossing this we came to a wall, great and thick, in which +were double doors sheathed with copper that opened mysteriously at our +approach. Outside of these doors stood four tall men, also wrapped in +cloaks, who seemed to take no note of us. Still, looking back when we +had gone a little way, I observed that they were following us, as +though by chance. + +How fine a thing, thought I to myself, it is to be a Prince who by +lifting a finger can thus command service at any moment of the day or +night. + +Just at that moment Seti said to me: + +“See, Ana, how sad a thing it is to be a Prince, who cannot even stir +abroad without notice to his household and commanding the service of a +secret guard to spy upon his every action, and doubtless to make report +thereof to the police of Pharaoh.” + +There are two faces to everything, thought I to myself again. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE BREAKING OF THE CUP + + +We walked down a broad street bordered by trees, beyond which were +lime-washed, flat-roofed houses built of sun-dried brick, standing, +each of them, in its own garden, till at length we came to the great +market-place just as the full moon rose above the palm-trees, making +the world almost as light as day. Tanis, or Rameses as it is also +called, was a very fine city then, if only half the size of Memphis, +though now that the Court has left it I hear it is much deserted. About +this market-place stood great temples of the gods, with pylons and +avenues of sphinxes, also that wonder of the world, the colossal statue +of the second Rameses, while to the north upon a mound was the glorious +palace of Pharaoh. Other palaces there were also, inhabited by the +nobles and officers of the Court, and between them ran long streets +where dwelt the citizens, ending, some of them, on that branch of the +Nile by which the ancient city stood. + +Seti halted to gaze at these wondrous buildings. + +“They are very old,” he said, “but most of them, like the +walls and those temples of Amon and Ptah, have been rebuilt in the time +of my grandfather or since his day by the labour of Israelitish slaves +who dwell yonder in the rich land of Goshen.” + +“They must have cost much gold,” I answered. + +“The Kings of Egypt do not pay their slaves,” remarked the Prince +shortly. + +Then we went on and mingled with the thousands of the people who were +wandering to and fro seeking rest after the business of the day. Here +on the frontier of Egypt were gathered folk of every race; Bedouins +from the desert, Syrians from beyond the Red Sea, merchants from the +rich Isle of Chittim, travellers from the coast, and traders from the +land of Punt and from the unknown countries of the north. All were +talking, laughing and making merry, save some who gathered in circles +to listen to a teller of tales or wandering musicians, or to watch +women who danced half naked for gifts. + +Now and again the crowd would part to let pass the chariot of some noble +or lady before which went running footmen who shouted, “Make way, +Make way!” and laid about them with their long wands. Then came a +procession of white-robed priests of Isis travelling by moonlight as +was fitting for the servants of the Lady of the Moon, and bearing aloft +the holy image of the goddess before which all men bowed and for a +little while were silent. After this followed the corpse of some great +one newly dead, preceded by a troop of hired mourners who rent the air +with their lamentations as they conducted it to the quarter of the +embalmers. Lastly, from out of one of the side streets emerged a gang +of several hundred hook-nosed and bearded men, among whom were a few +women, loosely roped together and escorted by a company of armed guards. + +“Who are these?” I asked, for I had never seen their like. + +“Slaves of the people of Israel who return from their labour at the +digging of the new canal which is to run to the Red Sea,” answered the +Prince. + +We stood still to watch them go by, and I noted how proudly their eyes +flashed and how fierce was their bearing although they were but men in +bonds, very weary too and stained by toil in mud and water. Presently +this happened. A white-bearded man lagged behind, dragging on the line +and checking the march. Thereupon an overseer ran up and flogged him +with a cruel whip cut from the hide of the sea-horse. The man turned +and, lifting a wooden spade that he carried, struck the overseer such a +blow that he cracked his skull so that he fell down dead. Other +overseers rushed at the Hebrew, as these Israelites were called, and +beat him till he also fell. Then a soldier appeared and, seeing what +had happened, drew his bronze sword. From among the throng sprang out a +girl, young and very lovely although she was but roughly clad. + +Since then I have seen Merapi, Moon of Israel, as she was called, clad +in the proud raiment of a queen, and once even of a goddess, but never, +I think, did she look more beauteous than in this hour of her slavery. +Her large eyes, neither blue nor black, caught the light of the moon +and were aswim with tears. Her plenteous bronze-hued hair flowed in +great curls over the snow-white bosom that her rough robe revealed. Her +delicate hands were lifted as though to ward off the blows which fell +upon him whom she sought to protect. Her tall and slender shape stood +out against a flare of light which burned upon some market stall. She +was beauteous exceedingly, so beauteous that my heart stood still at +the sight of her, yes, mine that for some years had held no thought of +woman save such as were black and evil. + +She cried aloud. Standing over the fallen man she appealed to the +soldier for mercy. Then, seeing that there was none to hope for from +him, she cast her great eyes around until they fell upon the Prince +Seti. + +“Oh! Sir,” she wailed, “you have a noble air. Will you stand +by and see my father murdered for no fault?” + +“Drag her off, or I smite through her,” shouted the captain, for +now she had thrown herself down upon the fallen Israelite. The overseers +obeyed, tearing her away. + +“Hold, butcher!” cried the Prince. + +“Who are you, dog, that dare to teach Pharaoh’s officer his +duty?” answered the captain, smiting the Prince in the face with his +left hand. + +Then swiftly he struck downwards and I saw the bronze sword pass through +the body of the Israelite who quivered and lay still. It was all done +in an instant, and on the silence that followed rang out the sound of a +woman’s wail. For a moment Seti choked—with rage, I think. Then he +spoke a single word—“Guards!” + +The four Nubians, who, as ordered, had kept at a distance, burst through +the gathered throng. Ere they reached us I, who till now had stood +amazed, sprang at the captain and gripped him by the throat. He struck +at me with his bloody sword, but the blow, falling on my long cloak, +only bruised me on the left thigh. Then I, who was strong in those +days, grappled with him and we rolled together on the ground. + +After this there was great tumult. The Hebrew slaves burst their rope +and flung themselves upon the soldiers like dogs upon a jackal, +battering them with their bare fists. The soldiers defended themselves +with swords; the overseers plied their hide whips; women screamed, men +shouted. The captain whom I had seized began to get the better of me; +at least I saw his sword flash above me and thought that all was over. +Doubtless it would have been, had not Seti himself dragged the man +backwards and thus given the four Nubian guards time to seize him. Next +I heard the Prince cry out in a ringing voice: + +“Hold! It is Seti, the son of Pharaoh, the Governor of Tanis, with +whom you have to do. See,” and he threw back the hood of his cloak so +that the moon shone upon his face. + +Instantly there was a great quiet. Now, first one and then another as +the truth sunk into them, men began to fall upon their knees, and I +heard one say in an awed voice: + +“The royal Son, the Prince of Egypt struck in the face by a soldier! +Blood must pay for it.” + +“How is that officer named?” asked Seti, pointing to the man who +had killed the Israelite and well-nigh killed me. + +Someone answered that he was named Khuaka. + +“Bring him to the steps of the temple of Amon,” said Seti to the +Nubians who held him fast. “Follow me, friend Ana, if you have the +strength. Nay, lean upon my shoulder.” + +So resting upon the shoulder of the Prince, for I was bruised and +breathless, I walked with him a hundred paces or more to the steps of +the great temple where we climbed to the platform at the head of the +stairs. After us came the prisoner, and after him all the multitude, a +very great number who stood upon the steps and on the flat ground +beyond. The Prince, who was very white and quiet, sat himself down upon +the low granite base of a tall obelisk which stood in front of the +temple pylon, and said: + +“As Governor of Tanis, the City of Rameses, with power of life and +death at all hours and in all places, I declare my Court open.” + +“The Royal Court is open!” cried the multitude in the accustomed +form. + +“This is the case,” said the Prince. “Yonder man who is named +Khuaka, by his dress a captain of Pharaoh’s army, is charged with the +murder of a certain Hebrew, and with the attempted murder of Ana the +scribe. Let witnesses be called. Bring the body of the dead man and lay +it here before me. Bring the woman who strove to protect him, that she +may speak.” + +The body was brought and laid upon the platform, its wide eyes staring +up at the moon. Then soldiers who had gathered thrust forward the +weeping girl. + +“Cease from tears,” said Seti, “and swear by Kephera the +creator, and by Maat the goddess of truth and law, to speak nothing but +the truth.” + +The girl looked up and said in a rich low voice that in some way +reminded me of honey being poured from a jar, perhaps because it was +thick with strangled sobs: + +“O Royal Son of Egypt, I cannot swear by those gods who am a daughter +of Israel.” + +The Prince looked at her attentively and asked: + +“By what god then can you swear, O Daughter of Israel?” + +“By Jahveh, O Prince, whom we hold to be the one and only God, the +Maker of the world and all that is therein.” + +“Then perhaps his other name is Kephera,” said the Prince with a +little smile. “But have it as you will. Swear, then, by your god +Jahveh.” + +Then she lifted both her hands above her head and said: + +“I, Merapi, daughter of Nathan of the tribe of Levi of the people of +Israel, swear that I will speak the truth and all the truth in the name +of Jahveh, the God of Israel.” + +“Tell us what you know of the matter of the death of this man, O +Merapi.” + +“Nothing that you do not know yourself, O Prince. He who lies +there,” and she swept her hand towards the corpse, turning her eyes +away, “was my father, an elder of Israel. The captain Khuaka came +when the corn was young to the Land of Goshen to choose those who +should work for Pharaoh. He wished to take me into his house. My father +refused because from my childhood I had been affianced to a man of +Israel; also because it is not lawful under the law for our people to +intermarry with your people. Then the captain Khuaka seized my father, +although he was of high rank and beyond the age to work for Pharaoh, +and he was taken away, as I think, because he would not suffer me to +wed Khuaka. A while later I dreamed that my father was sick. Thrice I +dreamed it and ran away to Tanis to visit him. But this morning I found +him and, O Prince, you know the rest.” + +“Is there no more?” asked Seti. + +The girl hesitated, then answered: + +“Only this, O Prince. This man saw me with my father giving him food, +for he was weak and overcome with the toil of digging the mud in the +heat of the sun, he who being a noble of our people knew nothing of +such labour from his youth. In my presence Khuaka asked my father if +now he would give me to him. My father answered that sooner would he +see me kissed by snakes and devoured by crocodiles. ‘I hear you,’ +answered Khuaka. ‘Learn, now, slave Nathan, before to-morrow’s sun +arises, you shall be kissed by swords and devoured by crocodiles or +jackals.’ ‘So be it,’ said my father, ‘but learn, O Khuaka, +that if so, it is revealed to me who am a priest and a prophet of +Jahveh, that before to-morrow’s sun you also shall be kissed by +swords and of the rest we will talk at the foot of Jahveh’s +throne.’ + +“Afterwards, as you know, Prince, the overseer flogged my father as I +heard Khuaka order him to do if he lagged through weariness, and then +Khuaka killed him because my father in his madness struck the overseer +with a mattock. I have no more to say, save that I pray that I may be +sent back to my own people there to mourn my father according to our +custom.” + +“To whom would you be sent? Your mother?” + +“Nay, O Prince, my mother, a lady of Syria, is dead. I will go to my +uncle, Jabez the Levite.” + +“Stand aside,” said Seti. “The matter shall be seen to later. +Appear, O Ana the Scribe. Swear the oath and tell us what you have seen +of this man’s death, since two witnesses are needful.” + +So I swore and repeated all this story that I have written down. + +“Now, Khuaka,” said the Prince when I had finished, “have you +aught to say?” + +“Only this, O Royal One,” answered the captain throwing himself +upon his knees, “that I struck you by accident, not knowing that the +person of your Highness was hidden in that long cloak. For this deed it +is true that I am worthy of death, but I pray you to pardon me because +I knew not what I did. The rest is nothing, since I only slew a +mutinous slave of the Israelites, as such are slain every day.” + +“Tell me, O Khuaka, who are being tried for this man’s death and +not for the striking of one of royal blood by chance, under which law it +is lawful for you to kill an Israelite without trial before the +appointed officers of Pharaoh.” + +“I am not learned. I do not know the law, O Prince. All that this +woman said is false.” + +“At least it is not false that yonder man lies dead and that you slew +him, as you yourself admit. Learn now, and let all Egypt learn, that +even an Israelite may not be murdered for no offence save that of +weariness and of paying back unearned blow with blow. Your blood shall +answer for his blood. Soldiers! Strike off his head.” + +The Nubians leapt upon him, and when I looked again Khuaka’s headless +corpse lay by the corpse of the Hebrew Nathan and their blood was +mingled upon the steps of the temple. + +“The business of the Court is finished,” said the Prince. +“Officers, see that this woman is escorted to her own people, and with +her the body of her father for burial. See, too, upon your lives that no +insult or harm is done to her. Scribe Ana, accompany me hence to my +house where I would speak with you. Let guards precede and follow +me.” + +He rose and all the people bowed. As he turned to go the lady Merapi +stepped forward, and falling upon her knees, said: + +“O most just Prince, now and ever I am your servant.” + +Then we set out, and as we left the market-place on our way to the +palace of the Prince, I heard a tumult of voices behind us, some in +praise and some in blame of what had been done. We walked on in silence +broken only by the measured tramp of the guards. Presently the moon +passed behind a cloud and the world was dark. Then from the edge of the +cloud sprang out a ray of light that lay straight and narrow above us +on the heavens. Seti studied it a while and said: + +“Tell me, O Ana, of what does that moonbeam put you in mind?” + +“Of a sword, O Prince,” I answered, “stretched out over Egypt +and held in the black hand of some mighty god or spirit. See, there is +the blade from which fall little clouds like drops of blood, there is +the hilt of gold, and look! there beneath is the face of the god. Fire +streams from his eyebrows and his brow is black and awful. I am afraid, +though what I fear I know not.” + +“You have a poet’s mind, Ana. Still, what you see I see and of this +I am sure, that some sword of vengeance is indeed stretched out over +Egypt because of its evil doings, whereof this light may be the symbol. +Behold! it seems to fall upon the temples of the gods and the palace of +Pharaoh, and to cleave them. Now it is gone and the night is as nights +were from the beginning of the world. Come to my chamber and let us +eat. I am weary, I need food and wine, as you must after struggling +with that lustful murderer whom I have sent to his own place.” + +The guards saluted and were dismissed. We mounted to the Prince’s +private chambers, in one of which his servants clad me in fine linen +robes after a skilled physician of the household had doctored the +bruises upon my thigh over which he tied a bandage spread with balm. +Then I was led to a small dining-hall, where I found the Prince waiting +for me as though I were some honoured guest and not a poor scribe who +had wandered hence from Memphis with my wares. He caused me to sit down +at his right hand and even drew up the chair for me himself, whereat I +felt abashed. To this day I remember that leather-seated chair. The +arms of it ended in ivory sphinxes and on its back of black wood in an +oval was inlaid the name of the great Rameses, to whom indeed it had +once belonged. Dishes were handed to us—only two of them and those +quite simple, for Seti was no great eater—by a young Nubian slave of a + very merry face, and with them wine more delicious than any I had ever +tasted. + +We ate and drank and the Prince talked to me of my business as a scribe +and of the making of tales, which seemed to interest him very much. +Indeed one might have thought that he was a pupil in the schools and I +the teacher, so humbly and with such care did he weigh everything that +I said about my art. Of matters of state or of the dreadful scene of +blood through which we had just passed he spoke no word. At the end, +however, after a little pause during which he held up a cup of +alabaster as thin as an eggshell, studying the light playing through it +on the rich red wine within, he said to me: + +“Friend Ana, we have passed a stirring hour together, the first +perhaps of many, or mayhap the last. Also we were born upon the same +day and therefore, unless the astrologers lie, as do other men—and +women—beneath the same star. Lastly, if I may say it, I like you +well, though I know not how you like me, and when you are in the room +with me I feel at ease, which is strange, for I know of no other with +whom it is so. + +“Now by a chance only this morning I found in some old records which I +was studying, that the heir to the throne of Egypt a thousand years ago, +had, and therefore, as nothing ever changes in Egypt, still has, a +right to a private librarian for which the State, that is, the toilers +of the land, must pay as in the end they pay for all. Some dynasties +have gone by, it seems, since there was such a librarian, I think +because most of the heirs to the throne could not, or did not, read. +Also by chance I mentioned the matter to the Vizier Nehesi who grudges +me every ounce of gold I spend, as though it were one taken out of his +own pouch, which perhaps it is. He answered with that crooked smile of +his: + +“‘Since I know well, Prince, that there is no scribe in Egypt whom +you would suffer about you for a single month, I will set the cost of a +librarian at the figure at which it stood in the Eleventh Dynasty upon +the roll of your Highness’s household and defray it from the Royal +Treasury until he is discharged.’ + +“Therefore, Scribe Ana, I offer you this post for one month; that is +all for which I can promise you will be paid whatever it may be, for I +forget the sum.” + +“I thank you, O Prince,” I exclaimed. + +“Do not thank me. Indeed if you are wise you will refuse. You have met +Pambasa. Well, Nehesi is Pambasa multiplied by ten, a rogue, a thief, a +bully, and one who has Pharaoh’s ear. He will make your life a +torment to you and clip every ring of gold that at length you wring out +of his grip. Moreover the place is wearisome, and I am fanciful and +often ill-humoured. Do not thank me, I say. Refuse; return to Memphis +and write stories. Shun courts and their plottings. Pharaoh himself is +but a face and a puppet through which other voices talk and other eyes +shine, and the sceptre which he wields is pulled by strings. And if +this is so with Pharaoh, what is the case with his son? Then there are +the women, Ana. They will make love to you, Ana, they even do so to me, +and I think you told me that you know something of women. Do not accept, +go back to Memphis. I will send you some old manuscripts to copy and +pay you whatever it is Nehesi allows for the librarian.” + +“Yet I accept, O Prince. As for Nehesi I fear him not at all, since at +the worst I can write a story about him at which the world will laugh, +and rather than that he will pay me my salary.” + +“You have more wisdom than I thought, Ana. It never came into my mind +to put Nehesi in a story, though it is true I tell tales about him +which is much the same thing.” + +He bent forward, leaning his head upon his hand, and ceasing from his +bantering tone, looked me in the eyes and asked: + +“Why do you accept? Let me think now. It is not because you care for +wealth if that is to be won here; nor for the pomp and show of courts; +nor for the company of the great who really are so small. For all these +things you, Ana, have no craving if I read your heart aright, you who +are an artist, nothing less and nothing more. Tell me, then, why will +you, a free man who can earn your living, linger round a throne and set +your neck beneath the heel of princes to be crushed into the common +mould of servitors and King’s Companions and Bearers of the +Footstool?” + +“I will tell you, Prince. First, because thrones make history, as +history makes thrones, and I think that great events are on foot in +Egypt in which I would have my share. Secondly, because the gods bring +gifts to men only once or twice in their lives and to refuse them is to +offend the gods who gave them those lives to use to ends of which we +know nothing. And thirdly”—here I hesitated. + +“And thirdly—out with the thirdly for, doubtless, it is the real +reason.” + +“And thirdly, O Prince—well, the word sounds strangely upon a +man’s lips—but thirdly because I love you. From the moment that my +eyes fell upon your face I loved you as I never loved any other +man—not even my father. I know not why. Certainly it is not because +you are a prince.” + +When he heard these words Seti sat brooding and so silent that, fearing +lest I, a humble scribe, had been too bold, I added hastily: + +“Let your Highness pardon his servant for his presumptuous words. It +was his servant’s heart that spoke and not his lips.” + +He lifted his hand and I stopped. + +“Ana, my twin in Ra,” he said, “do you know that I never had +a friend?” + +“A prince who has no friend!” + +“Never, none. Now I begin to think that I have found one. The thought +is strange and warms me. Do you know also that when my eyes fell upon +your face I loved you also, the gods know why. It was as though I had +found one who was dear to me thousands of years ago but whom I had lost +and forgotten. Perhaps this is but foolishness, or perhaps here we have +the shadow of something great and beautiful which dwells elsewhere, in +the place we call the Kingdom of Osiris, beyond the grave, Ana.” + +“Such thoughts have come to me at times, Prince. I mean that all we +see is shadow; that we ourselves are shadows and that the realities who +cast them live in a different home which is lit by some spirit sun that +never sets.” + +The Prince nodded his head and again was silent for a while. Then he +took his beautiful alabaster cup, and pouring wine into it, he drank a +little and passed the cup to me. + +“Drink also, Ana,” he said, “and pledge me as I pledge you, +in token that by decree of the Creator who made the hearts of men, +henceforward our two hearts are as the same heart through good and ill, +through triumph and defeat, till death takes one of us. Henceforward, +Ana, unless you show yourself unworthy, I hide no thought from you.” + +Flushing with joy I took the cup, saying: + +“I add to your words, O Prince. We are one, not for this life alone +but for all the lives to be. Death, O Prince, is, I think, but a single +step in the pylon stair which leads at last to that dizzy height whence +we see the face of God and hear his voice tell us what and why we +are.” + +Then I pledged him, and drank, bowing, and he bowed back to me. + +“What shall we do with the cup, Ana, the sacred cup that has held this +rich heart-wine? Shall I keep it? No, it no longer belongs to me. Shall +I give it to you? No, it can never be yours alone. See, we will break +the priceless thing.” + +Seizing it by its stem with all his strength he struck the cup upon the +table. Then what seemed to me to be a marvel happened, for instead of +shattering as I thought it surely would, it split in two from rim to +foot. Whether this was by chance, or whether the artist who fashioned +it in some bygone generation had worked the two halves separately and +cunningly cemented them together, to this hour I do not know. At least +so it befell. + +“This is fortunate, Ana,” said the Prince, laughing a little in his +light way. “Now take you the half that lies nearest to you and I will +take mine. If you die first I will lay my half upon your breast, and if +I die first you shall do the same by me, or if the priests forbid it +because I am royal and may not be profaned, cast the thing into my +tomb. What should we have done had the alabaster shattered into +fragments, Ana, and what omen should we have read in them?” + +“Why ask, O Prince, seeing that it has befallen otherwise?” + +Then I took my half, laid it against my forehead and hid it in the bosom +of my robe, and as I did, so did Seti. + +So in this strange fashion the royal Seti and I sealed the holy compact +of our brotherhood, as I think not for the first time or the last. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +USERTI + + +Seti rose, stretching out his arms. + +“That is finished,” he said, “as everything finishes, and for +once I am sorry. Now what next? Sleep, I suppose, in which all ends, or +perhaps you would say all begins.” + +As he spoke the curtains at the end of the room were drawn and between +them appeared the chamberlain, Pambasa, holding his gold-tipped wand +ceremoniously before him. + +“What is it now, man?” asked Seti. “Can I not even sup in +peace? Stay, before you answer tell me, do things end or begin in sleep? +The learned Ana and I differ on the matter and would hear your wisdom. +Bear in mind, Pambasa, that before we are born we must have slept, +since of that time we remember nothing, and after we are dead we +certainly seem to sleep, as any who have looked on mummies know. Now +answer.” + +The chamberlain stared at the wine flask on the table as though he +suspected his master of having drunk too much. Then in a hard official +voice he said: + +“She comes! She comes! She comes, offering greetings and adoration to +the Royal Son of Ra.” + +“Does she indeed?” asked Seti. “If so, why say it three +times? And who comes?” + +“The high Princess, the heiress of Egypt, the daughter of Pharaoh, +your Highness’s royal half-sister, the great lady Userti.” + +“Let her enter then. Ana, stand you behind me. If you grow weary and I +give leave you can depart; the slaves will show you your +sleeping-place.” + +Pambasa went, and presently through the curtain appeared a royal-looking +lady splendidly apparelled. She was accompanied by four waiting women +who fell back on the threshold and were no more seen. The Prince +stepped forward, took both her hands in his and kissed her on the brow, +then drew back again, after which they stood a moment looking at each +other. While they remained thus I studied her who was known throughout +the land as the “Beautiful Royal Daughter,” but whom till now I had +never seen. In truth I did not think her beautiful, although even had +she been clad in a peasant’s robe I should have been sure that she +was royal. Her face was too hard for beauty and her black eyes, with a +tinge of grey in them, were too small. Also her nose was too sharp and +her lips were too thin. Indeed, had it not been for the delicately and +finely-shaped woman’s form beneath, I might have thought that a +prince and not a princess stood before me. For the rest in most ways she + resembled her half-brother Seti, though her countenance lacked the +kindliness of his; or rather both of them resembled their father, +Meneptah. + +“Greeting, Sister,” he said, eyeing her with a smile in which I +caught a gleam of mockery. “Purple-bordered robes, emerald necklace +and enamelled crown of gold, rings and pectoral, everything except a +sceptre—why are you so royally arrayed to visit one so humble as your +loving brother? You come like sunlight into the darkness of the +hermit’s cell and dazzle the poor hermit, or rather hermits,” and +he pointed to me. + +“Cease your jests, Seti,” she replied in a full, strong voice. +“I wear these ornaments because they please me. Also I have supped +with our father, and those who sit at Pharaoh’s table must be +suitably arrayed, though I have noted that sometimes you think +otherwise.” + +“Indeed. I trust that the good god, our divine parent, is well +to-night as you leave him so early.” + +“I leave him because he sent me with a message to you.” She paused, +looking at me sharply, then asked, “Who is that man? I do not know +him.” + +“It is your misfortune, Userti, but one which can be mended. He is +named Ana the Scribe, who writes strange stories of great interest +which you would do well to read who dwell too much upon the outside of +life. He is from Memphis and his father’s name was—I forget what. +Ana, what was your father’s name?” + +“One too humble for royal ears, Prince,” I answered, “but my +grandfather was Pentaur the poet who wrote of the deeds of the mighty +Rameses.” + +“Is it so? Why did you not tell me that before? The descent should +earn you a pension from the Court if you can extract it from Nehesi. +Well, Userti, his grandfather’s name was Pentaur whose immortal +verses you have doubtless read upon temple walls, where our grandfather +was careful to publish them.” + +“I have—to my sorrow—and thought them poor, boastful +stuff,” she answered coldly. + +“To be honest, if Ana will forgive me, so do I. I can assure you that +his stories are a great improvement on them. Friend Ana, this is my +sister, Userti, my father’s daughter though our mothers were not the +same.” + +“I pray you, Seti, to be so good as to give me my rightful titles in +speaking of me to scribes and other of your servants.” + +“Your pardon, Userti. This, Ana, is the first Lady of Egypt, the Royal +Heiress, the Princess of the Two Lands, the High-priestess of Amon, the +Cherished of the Gods, the half-sister of the Heir-apparent, the +Daughter of Hathor, the Lotus Bloom of Love, the Queen to be +of—Userti, whose queen will you be? Have you made up your mind? For +myself I know no one worthy of so much beauty, excellence, learning +and—what shall I add—sweetness, yes, sweetness.” + +“Seti,” she said stamping her foot, “if it pleases you to +make a mock of me before a stranger, I suppose that I must submit. Send +him away, I would speak with you.” + +“Make a mock of you! Oh! mine is a hard fate. When truth gushes from +the well of my heart, I am told I mock, and when I mock, all say—he +speaks truth. Be seated, Sister, and talk on freely. This Ana is my +sworn friend who saved my life but now, for which deed perhaps he +should be my enemy. His memory is excellent also and he will remember +what you say and write it down afterwards, whereas I might forget. +Therefore, with your leave, I will ask him to stay here.” + +“My Prince,” I broke in, “I pray you suffer me to go.” + +“My Secretary,” he answered with a note of command in his voice, +“I pray you to remain where you are.” + +So I sat myself on the ground after the fashion of a scribe, having no +choice, and the Princess sat herself on a couch at the end of the +table, but Seti remained standing. Then the Princess said: + +“Since it is your will, Brother, that I should talk secrets into other +ears than yours, I obey you. Still”—here she looked at me +wrathfully—“let the tongue be careful that it does not repeat what +the ears have heard, lest there should be neither ears nor tongue. My +Brother, it has been reported to Pharaoh, while we ate together, that +there is tumult in this town. It has been reported to him that because +of a trouble about some base Israelite you caused one of his officers +to be beheaded, after which there came a riot which still rages.” + +“Strange that truth should have come to the ears of Pharaoh so +quickly. Now, my Sister, if he had heard it three moons hence I could +have believed you—almost.” + +“Then you did behead the officer?” + +“Yes, I beheaded him about two hours ago.” + +“Pharaoh will demand an account of the matter.” + +“Pharaoh,” answered Seti lifting his eyes, “has no power to +question the justice of the Governor of Tanis in the north.” + +“You are in error, Seti. Pharaoh has all power.” + +“Nay, Sister, Pharaoh is but one man among millions of other men, and +though he speaks it is their spirit which bends his tongue, while above +that spirit is a yet greater spirit who decrees what they shall think +to ends of which we know nothing.” + +“I do not understand, Seti.” + +“I never thought you would, Userti, but when you have leisure, ask Ana +here to explain the matter to you. I am sure that _he_ understands.” + +“Oh! I have borne enough,” exclaimed Userti rising. “Hearken +to the command of Pharaoh, Prince Seti. It is that you wait upon him +to-morrow in full council, at an hour before noon, there to talk with +him of this question of the Israelitish slaves and the officer whom it +has pleased you to kill. I came to speak other words to you also, but +as they were for your private ear, these can bide a more fitting +opportunity. Farewell, my Brother.” + +“What, are you going so soon, Sister? I wished to tell you the story +about those Israelites, and especially of the maid whose name is—what +was her name, Ana?” + +“Merapi, Moon of Israel, Prince,” I added with a groan. + +“About the maid called Merapi, Moon of Israel, I think the sweetest +that ever I have looked upon, whose father the dead captain murdered in +my sight.” + +“So there is a woman in the business? Well, I guessed it.” + +“In what business is there not a woman, Userti, even in that of a +message from Pharaoh. Pambasa, Pambasa, escort the Princess and summon +her servants, women everyone of them, unless my senses mock me. +Good-night to you, O Sister and Lady of the Two Lands, and forgive +me—that coronet of yours is somewhat awry.” + +At last she was gone and I rose, wiping my brow with a corner of my +robe, and looking at the Prince who stood before the fire laughing +softly. + +“Make a note of all this talk, Ana,” he said; “there is more +in it than meets the ear.” + +“I need no note, Prince,” I answered; “every word is burnt +upon my mind as a hot iron burns a tablet of wood. With reason too, +since now her Highness will hate me for all her life.” + +“Much better so, Ana, than that she should pretend to love you, which +she never would have done while you are my friend. Women oftimes +respect those whom they hate and even will advance them because of +policy, but let those whom they pretend to love beware. The time may +come when you will yet be Userti’s most trusted councillor.” + +Now here I, Ana the Scribe, will state that in after days, when this +same queen was the wife of Pharaoh Saptah, I did, as it chanced, become +her most trusted councillor. Moreover, in those times, yes, and even in +the hour of her death, she swore from the moment her eyes first fell on +me she had known me to be true-hearted and held me in esteem as no +self-seeker. More, I think she believed what she said, having forgotten +that once she looked upon me as her enemy. This indeed I never was, who +always held her in high regard and honour as a great lady who loved her +country, though one who sometimes was not wise. But as I could not +foresee these things on that night of long ago, I only stared at the +Prince and said: + +“Oh! why did you not allow me to depart as your Highness said I might +at the beginning? Soon or late my head will pay the price of this +night’s work.” + +“Then she must take mine with it. Listen, Ana. I kept you here, not to +vex the Princess or you, but for a good reason. You know that it is the +custom of the royal dynasties of Egypt for kings, or those who will be +kings, to wed their near kin in order that the blood may remain the +purer.” + +“Yes, Prince, and not only among those who are royal. Still, I think +it an evil custom.” + +“As I do, since the race wherein it is practised grows ever weaker in +body and in mind; which is why, perhaps, my father is not what his +father was and I am not what my father is.” + +“Also, Prince, it is hard to mingle the love of the sister and of the +wife.” + +“Very hard, Ana; so hard that when it is attempted both are apt to +vanish. Well, our mothers having been true royal wives, though hers died +before mine was wedded by my father, Pharaoh desires that I should +marry my half-sister, Userti, and what is worse, she desires it also. +Moreover, the people, who fear trouble ahead in Egypt if we, who alone +are left of the true royal race born of queens, remain apart and she +takes another lord, or I take another wife, demand that it should be +brought about, since they believe that whoever calls Userti the Strong +his spouse will one day rule the land.” + +“Why does the Princess wish it—that she may be a queen?” + +“Yes, Ana, though were she to wed my cousin, Amenmeses, the son of +Pharaoh’s elder brother Khaemuas, she might still be a queen, if I +chose to stand aside as I would not be loth to do.” + +“Would Egypt suffer this, Prince?” + +“I do not know, nor does it matter since she hates Amenmeses, who is +strong-willed and ambitious, and will have none of him. Also he is +already married.” + +“Is there no other royal one whom she might take, Prince?” + +“None. Moreover she wishes me alone.” + +“Why, Prince?” + +“Because of ancient custom which she worships. Also because she knows +me well and in her fashion is fond of me, whom she believes to be a +gentle-minded dreamer that she can rule. Lastly, because I am the +lawful heir to the Crown and without me to share it, she thinks that +she would never be safe upon the Throne, especially if I should marry +some other woman, of whom she would be jealous. It is the Throne she +desires and would wed, not the Prince Seti, her half-brother, whom she +takes with it to be in name her husband, as Pharaoh commands that she +should do. Love plays no part in Userti’s breast, Ana, which makes +her the more dangerous, since what she seeks with a cold heart of +policy, that she will surely find.” + +“Then it would seem, Prince, that the cage is built about you. After +all it is a very splendid cage and made of gold.” + +“Yes, Ana, yet not one in which I would live. Still, except by death +how can I escape from the threefold chain of the will of Pharaoh, of +Egypt, and of Userti? Oh!” he went on in a new voice, one that had in +it both sorrow and passion, “this is a matter in which I would have +chosen for myself who in all others must be a servant. And I may not +choose!” + +“Is there perchance some other lady, Prince?” + +“None! By Hathor, none—at least I think not. Yet I would have been +free to search for such a one and take her when I found her, if she were +but a fishergirl.” + +“The Kings of Egypt can have large households, Prince.” + +“I know it. Are there not still scores whom I should call aunt and +uncle? I think that my grandsire, Rameses, blessed Egypt with quite +three hundred children, and in so doing in a way was wise, since thus +he might be sure that, while the world endures, in it will flow some of +the blood that once was his.” + +“Yet in life or death how will that help him, Prince? Some must beget +the multitudes of the earth, what does it matter who these may have +been?” + +“Nothing at all, Ana, since by good or evil fortune they are born. +Therefore, why talk of large households? Though, like any man who can +pay for it, Pharaoh may have a large household, I seek a queen who +shall reign in my heart as well as on my throne, not a ‘large +household,’ Ana. Oh! I am weary. Pambasa, come hither and conduct my +secretary, Ana, to the empty room that is next to my own, the painted +chamber which looks toward the north, and bid my slaves attend to all +his wants as they would to mine.” + +“Why did you tell me you were a scribe, my lord Ana?” asked +Pambasa, as he led me to my beautiful sleeping-place. + +“Because that is my trade, Chamberlain.” + +He looked at me, shaking his great head till the long white beard waved +across his breast like a temple banner in the faint evening breeze, and +answered: + +“You are no scribe, you are a magician who can win the love and favour +of his Highness in an hour which others cannot do between two risings +of the Nile. Had you said so at once, you would have been differently +treated yonder in the hall of waiting. Forgive me therefore what I did +in ignorance, and, my lord, I pray it may please you not to melt away +in the night, lest my feet should answer for it beneath the sticks.” + +It was the fourth hour from sunrise of the following day that, for the +first time in my life I found myself in the Court of Pharaoh standing +with other members of his household in the train of his Highness, the +Prince Seti. It was a very great place, for Pharaoh sat in the judgment +hall, whereof the roof is upheld by round and sculptured columns, +between which were set statues of Pharaohs who had been. Save at the +throne end of the hall, where the light flowed down through +clerestories, the vast chamber was dim almost to darkness; at least so +it seemed to me entering there out of the brilliant sunshine. Through +this gloom many folk moved like shadows; captains, nobles, and state +officers who had been summoned to the Court, and among them white-robed +and shaven priests. Also there were others of whom I took no count, +such as Arab headmen from the desert, traders with jewels and other +wares to sell, farmers and even peasants with petitions to present, +lawyers and their clients, and I know not who besides, though of all +these none were suffered to advance beyond a certain mark where the +light began to fall. Speaking in whispers all of these folk flitted to +and fro like bats in a tomb. + +We waited between two Hathor-headed pillars in one of the vestibules of +the hall, the Prince Seti, who was clad in purple-broidered garments +and wore upon his brow a fillet of gold from which rose the uræus or +hooded snake, also of gold, that royal ones alone might wear, leaning +against the base of a statue, while the rest of us stood silent behind +him. For a time he was silent also, as a man might be whose thoughts +were otherwhere. At length he turned and said to me: + +“This is weary work. Would I had asked you to bring that new tale of +yours, Scribe Ana, that we might have read it together.” + +“Shall I tell you the plot of it, Prince?” + +“Yes. I mean, not now, lest I should forget my manners listening to +you. Look,” and he pointed to a dark-browed, fierce-eyed man of +middle age who passed up the hall as though he did not see us, “there +goes my cousin, Amenmeses. You know him, do you not?” + +I shook my head. + +“Then tell me what you think of him, at once before the first judgment +fades.” + +“I think he is a royal-looking lord, obstinate in mind and strong in +body, handsome too in his way.” + +“All can see that, Ana. What else?” + +“I think,” I said in a low voice so that none might overhear, +“that his heart is as black as his brow; that he has grown wicked with +jealousy and hate and will do you evil.” + +“Can a man grow wicked, Ana? Is he not as he was born till the end? I +do not know, nor do you. Still you are right, he is jealous and will do +me evil if it brings him good. But tell me, which of us will triumph at +the last?” + +While I hesitated what to answer I became aware that someone had joined +us. Looking round I perceived a very ancient man clad in a white robe. +He was broad-faced and bald-headed, and his eyes burned beneath his +shaggy eyebrows like two coals in ashes. He supported himself on a +staff of cedar-wood, gripping it with both hands that for thinness were +like to those of a mummy. For a while he considered us both as though +he were reading our souls, then said in a full and jovial voice: + +“Greeting, Prince.” + +Seti turned, looked at him, and answered: + +“Greeting, Bakenkhonsu. How comes it that you are still alive? When we +parted at Thebes I made sure——” + +“That on your return you would find me in my tomb. Not so, Prince, it +is I who shall live to look upon you in your tomb, yes, and on others +who are yet to sit in the seat of Pharaoh. Why not? Ho! ho! Why not, +seeing that I am but a hundred and seven, I who remember the first +Rameses and have played with his grandson, your grandsire, as a boy? +Why should I not live, Prince, to nurse your grandson—if the gods +should grant you one who as yet have neither wife nor child?” + +“Because you will get tired of life, Bakenkhonsu, as I am already, and +the gods will not be able to spare you much longer.” + +“The gods can endure yet a while without me, Prince, when so many are +flocking to their table. Indeed it is their desire that one good priest +should be left in Egypt. Ki the Magician told me so only this morning. +He had it straight from Heaven in a dream last night.” + +“Why have you been to visit Ki?” asked Seti, looking at him +sharply. “I should have thought that being both of a trade you would +have hated each other.” + +“Not so, Prince. On the contrary we add up each other’s account; I +mean, check and interpret each other’s visions, with which we are both +of us much troubled just now. Is that young man a scribe from +Memphis?” + +“Yes, and my friend. His grandsire was Pentaur the poet.” + +“Indeed. I knew Pentaur well. Often has he read me to sleep with his +long poems, rank stuff that grew like coarse grass upon a deep but +half-drained soil. Are you sure, young man, that Pentaur was your +grandfather? You are not like him. Quite a different kind of herbage, +and you know that it is a matter upon which we must take a woman’s +word.” + +Seti burst out laughing and I looked at the old priest angrily, though +now that I came to think of it my father always said that his mother +was one of the biggest liars in Egypt. + +“Well, let it be,” went on Bakenkhonsu, “till we find out the +truth before Thoth. Ki was speaking of you, young man. I did not pay +much attention to him, but it was something about a sudden vow of +friendship between you and the Prince here. There was a cup in the +story too, an alabaster cup that seemed familiar to me. Ki said it was +broken.” + +Seti started and I began angrily: + +“What do you know of that cup? Where were you hid, O Priest?” + +“Oh, in your souls, I suppose,” he answered dreamily, “or +rather Ki was. But I know nothing, and am not curious. If you had broken +the cup with a woman now, it would have been more interesting, even to +an old man. Be so good as to answer the Prince’s question as to +whether he or his cousin Amenmeses will triumph at the last, for on +that matter both Ki and I are curious.” + +“Am I a seer,” I began again still more angrily, “that I +should read the future?” + +“I think so, a little, but that is what I want to find out.” + +He hobbled towards me, laid one of his claw-like hands upon my arm, and +said in a new voice of command: + +“Look now upon that throne and tell me what you see there.” + +I obeyed him because I must, staring up the hall at the empty throne. At +first I saw nothing. Then figures seemed to flit around it. From among +these figures emerged the shape of the Count Amenmeses. He sat upon the +throne, looking about him proudly, and I noted that he was no longer +clad as a prince but as Pharaoh himself. Presently hook-nosed men +appeared who dragged him from his seat. He fell, as I thought, into +water, for it seemed to splash up above him. Next Seti the Prince +appeared to mount the throne, led thither by a woman, of whom I could +only see the back. I saw him distinctly wearing the double crown and +holding a sceptre in his hand. He also melted away and others came whom +I did not know, though I thought that one of them was like to the +Princess Userti. + +Now all were gone and I was telling Bakenkhonsu everything I had +witnessed like a man who speaks in his sleep, not by his own will. +Suddenly I woke up and laughed at my own foolishness. But the other two +did not laugh; they regarded me very gravely. + +“I thought that you were something of a seer,” said the old priest, +“or rather Ki thought it. I could not quite believe Ki, because he +said that the young person whom I should find with the Prince here this +morning would be one who loved him with all the heart, and it is only a +woman who loves with all the heart, is it not? Or so the world +believes. Well, I will talk the matter over with Ki. Hush! Pharaoh +comes.” + +As he spoke from far away rose a cry of— + +“Life! Blood! Strength! Pharaoh! Pharaoh! Pharaoh!” + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE COURT OF BETROTHAL + + +“Life! Blood! Strength!” echoed everyone in the great hall, falling +to their knees and bending their foreheads to the ground. Even the +Prince and the aged Bakenkhonsu prostrated themselves thus as though +before the presence of a god. And, indeed, Pharaoh Meneptah, passing +through the patch of sunlight at the head of the hall, wearing the +double crown upon his head and arrayed in royal robes and ornaments, +looked like a god, no less, as the multitude of the people of Egypt +held him to be. He was an old man with the face of one worn by years +and care, but from his person majesty seemed to flow. + +With him, walking a step or two behind, went Nehesi his Vizier, a +shrivelled, parchment-faced officer whose cunning eyes rolled about the +place, and Roy the High-priest, and Hora the Chamberlain of the Table, +and Meranu the Washer of the King’s Hands, and Yuy the private +scribe, and many others whom Bakenkhonsu named to me as they appeared. +Then there were fan-bearers and a gorgeous band of lords who were +called King’s Companions and Head Butlers and I know not who besides, +and after these guards with spears and helms that shone like gold, and +black swordsmen from the southern land of Kesh. + +But one woman accompanied his Majesty, walking alone immediately behind +him in front of the Vizier and the High-priest. She was the Royal +Daughter, the Princess Userti, who looked, I thought, prouder and more +splendid than any there, though somewhat pale and anxious. + +Pharaoh came to the steps of the throne. The Vizier and the High-priest +advanced to help him up the steps, for he was feeble with age. He waved +them aside, and beckoning to his daughter, rested his hand upon her +shoulder and by her aid mounted the throne. I thought that there was +meaning in this; it was as though he would show to all the assembly +that this princess was the prop of Egypt. + +For a little while he stood still and Userti sat herself down on the +topmost step, resting her chin upon her jewelled hand. There he stood +searching the place with his eyes. He lifted his sceptre and all rose, +hundreds and hundreds of them throughout the hall, their garments +rustling as they rose like leaves in a sudden wind. He seated himself +and once more from every throat went up the regal salutation that was +the king’s alone, of— + +“Life! Blood! Strength! Pharaoh! Pharaoh! Pharaoh!” + +In the silence that followed I heard him say, to the Princess, I think: + +“Amenmeses I see, and others of our kin, but where is my son Seti, the +Prince of Egypt?” + +“Watching us no doubt from some vestibule. My brother loves not +ceremonials,” answered Userti. + +Then, with a little sigh, Seti stepped forward, followed by Bakenkhonsu +and myself, and at a distance by other members of his household. As he +marched up the long hall all drew to this side or that, saluting him +with low bows. Arriving in front of the throne he bent till his knee +touched the ground, saying: + +“I give greeting, O King and Father.” + +“I give greeting, O Prince and Son. Be seated,” answered Meneptah. + +Seti seated himself in a chair that had been made ready for him at the +foot of the throne, and on its right, and in another chair to the left, +but set farther from the steps, Amenmeses seated himself also. At a +motion from the Prince I took my stand behind his chair. + +The formal business of the Court began. At the beckoning of an usher +people of all sorts appeared singly and handed in petitions written on +rolled-up papyri, which the Vizier Nehesi took and threw into a +leathern sack that was held open by a black slave. In some cases an +answer to his petition, whereof this was only the formal delivery, was +handed back to the suppliant, who touched his brow with the roll that +perhaps meant everything to him, and bowed himself away to learn his +fate. Then appeared sheiks of the desert tribes, and captains from +fortresses in Syria, and traders who had been harmed by enemies, and +even peasants who had suffered violence from officers, each to make his +prayer. Of all of these supplications the scribes took notes, while to +some the Vizier and councillors made answer. But as yet Pharaoh said +nothing. There he sat silent on his splendid throne of ivory and gold, +like a god of stone above the altar, staring down the long hall and +through the open doors as though he would read the secrets of the skies +beyond. + +“I told you that courts were wearisome, friend Ana,” whispered the +Prince to me without turning his head. “Do you not already begin to +wish that you were back writing tales at Memphis?” + +Before I could answer some movement in the throng at the end of the hall +drew the eyes of the Prince and of all of us. I looked, and saw +advancing towards the throne a tall, bearded man already old, although +his black hair was but grizzled with grey. He was arrayed in a white +linen robe, over which hung a woollen cloak such as shepherds wear, and +he carried in his hand a long thornwood staff. His face was splendid +and very handsome, and his black eyes flashed like fire. He walked +forward slowly, looking neither to the left nor the right, and the +throng made way for him as though he were a prince. Indeed, I thought +that they showed more fear of him than of any prince, since they shrank +from him as he came. Nor was he alone, for after him walked another man +who was very like to him, but as I judged, still older, for his beard, +which hung down to his middle, was snow-white as was the hair on his +head. He also was dressed in a sheepskin cloak and carried a staff in +his hand. Now a whisper rose among the people and the whisper said: + +“The prophets of the men of Israel! The prophets of the men of +Israel!” + +The two stood before the throne and looked at Pharaoh, making no +obeisance. Pharaoh looked at them and was silent. For a long space they +stood thus in the midst of a great quiet, but Pharaoh would not speak, +and none of his officers seemed to dare to open their mouths. At length +the first of the prophets spoke in a clear, cold voice as some +conqueror might do. + +“You know me, Pharaoh, and my errand.” + +“I know you,” answered Pharaoh slowly, “as well I may, seeing +that we played together when we were little. You are that Hebrew whom my +sister, she who sleeps in Osiris, took to be as a son to her, giving to +you a name that means ‘drawn forth’ because she drew you forth as +an infant from among the reeds of Nile. Aye, I know you and your +brother also, but your errand I know not.” + +“This is my errand, Pharaoh, or rather the errand of Jahveh, God of +Israel, for whom I speak. Have you not heard it before? It is that you +should let his people go to do sacrifice to him in the wilderness.” + +“Who is Jahveh? I know not Jahveh who serve Amon and the gods of +Egypt, and why should I let your people go?” + +“Jahveh is the God of Israel, the great God of all gods whose power +you shall learn if you will not hearken, Pharaoh. As for why you should +let the people go, ask it of the Prince your son who sits yonder. Ask +him of what he saw in the streets of this city but last night, and of a +certain judgment that he passed upon one of the officers of Pharaoh. Or +if he will not tell you, learn it from the lips of the maiden who is +named Merapi, Moon of Israel, the daughter of Nathan the Levite. Stand +forward, Merapi, daughter of Nathan.” + +Then from the throng at the back of the hall came forward Merapi, clad +in a white robe and with a black veil thrown about her head in token of +mourning, but not so as to hide her face. Up the hall she glided and +made obeisance to Pharaoh, as she did so, casting one swift look at +Seti where he sat. Then she stood still, looking, as I thought, +wonderfully beautiful in that simple robe of white and the veil of +black. + +“Speak, woman,” said Pharaoh. + +She obeyed, telling all the tale in her low and honeyed voice, nor did +any seem to think it long or wearisome. At length she ended, and +Pharaoh said: + +“Say, Seti my son, is this truth?” + +“It is truth, O my Father. By virtue of my powers as Governor of this +city I caused the captain Khuaka to be put to death for the crime of +murder done by him before my eyes in the streets of the city.” + +“Perchance you did right and perchance you did wrong, Son Seti. At +least you are the best judge, and because he struck your royal person, +this Khuaka deserved to die.” + +Again he was silent for a while staring through the open doors at the +sky beyond. Then he said: + +“What would ye more, Prophets of Jahveh? Justice has been done upon my +officer who slew the man of your people. A life has been taken for a +life according to the strict letter of the law. The matter is finished. +Unless you have aught to say, get you gone.” + +“By the command of the Lord our God,” answered the prophet, +“we have this to say to you, O Pharaoh. Lift the heavy yoke from off +the neck of the people of Israel. Bid that they cease from the labour +of the making of bricks to build your walls and cities.” + +“And if I refuse, what then?” + +“Then the curse of Jahveh shall be on you, Pharaoh, and with plague +upon plague shall he smite this land of Egypt.” + +Now a sudden rage seized Meneptah. + +“What!” he cried. “Do you dare to threaten me in my own +palace, and would ye cause all the multitude of the people of Israel who +have grown fat in the land to cease from their labours? Hearken, my +servants, and, scribes, write down my decree. Go ye to the country of +Goshen and say to the Israelites that the bricks they made they shall +make as aforetime and more work shall they do than aforetime in the +days of my father, Rameses. Only no more straw shall be given to them +for the making of the bricks. Because they are idle, let them go forth +and gather the straw themselves; let them gather it from the face of +the fields.” + +There was silence for a while. Then with one voice both the prophets +spoke, pointing with their wands to Pharaoh: + +“In the Name of the Lord God we curse you, Pharaoh, who soon shall die +and make answer for this sin. The people of Egypt we curse also. Ruin +shall be their portion; death shall be their bread and blood shall they +drink in a great darkness. Moreover, at the last Pharaoh shall let the +people go.” + +Then, waiting no answer, they turned and strode away side by side, nor +did any man hinder them in their goings. Again there was silence in the +hall, the silence of fear, for these were awful words that the prophets +had spoken. Pharaoh knew it, for his chin sank upon his breast and his +face that had been red with rage turned white. Userti hid her eyes with +her hand as though to shut out some evil vision, and even Seti seemed +ill at ease as though that awful curse had found a home within his +heart. + +At a motion of Pharaoh’s hand the Vizier Nehesi struck the ground +thrice with his wand of office and pointed to the door, thus giving the +accustomed sign that the Court was finished, whereon all the people +turned and went away with bent heads speaking no words one to another. +Presently the great hall was emptied save for the officers and guards +and those who attended upon Pharaoh. When everyone had gone Seti the +Prince rose and bowed before the throne. + +“O Pharaoh,” he said, “be pleased to hearken. We have heard +very evil words spoken by these Hebrew men, words that threaten your +divine life, O Pharaoh, and call down a curse upon the Upper and the +Lower Land. Pharaoh, these people of Israel hold that they suffer wrong +and are oppressed. Now give me, your son, a writing under your hand and +seal, by virtue of which I shall have power to go down to the Land of +Goshen and inquire of this matter, and afterwards make report of the +truth to you. Then, if it seems to you that the People of Israel are +unjustly dealt by, you may lighten their burden and bring the curse of +their prophets to nothing. But if it seems to you that the tales they +tell are idle then your words shall stand.” + +Now, listening, I, Ana, thought that Pharaoh would once more be angry. +But it was not so, for when he spoke again it was in the voice of one +who is crushed by grief or weariness. + +“Have your will, Son,” he said. “Only take with you a great +guard of soldiers lest these hook-nosed dogs should do you mischief. I +trust them not, who, like the Hyksos whose blood runs in many of them, +were ever the foes of Egypt. Did they not conspire with the Ninebow +Barbarians whom I crushed in the great battle, and do they not now +threaten us in the name of their outland god? Still, let the writing be +prepared and I will seal it. And stay. I think, Seti, that you, who +were ever gentle-natured, have somewhat too soft a heart towards these +shepherd slaves. Therefore I will not send you alone. Amenmeses your +cousin shall go with you, but under your command. It is spoken.” + +“Life! Blood! Strength!” said both Seti and Amenmeses, thus +acknowledging the king’s command. + +Now I thought that all was finished. But it was not so, for presently +Pharaoh said: + +“Let the guards withdraw to the end of the hall and with them the +servants. Let the King’s councillors and the officers of the household +remain.” + +Instantly all saluted and withdrew out of hearing. I, too, made ready to +go, but the Prince said to me: + +“Stay, that you may take note of what passes.” + +Pharaoh, watching, saw if he did not hear. + +“Who is that man, Son?” he asked. + +“He is Ana my private scribe and librarian, O Pharaoh, whom I trust. +It was he who saved me from harm but last night.” + +“You say it, Son. Let him remain in attendance on you, knowing that if +he betrays our council he dies.” + +Userti looked up frowning as though she were about to speak. If so, she +changed her mind and was silent, perhaps because Pharaoh’s word once +spoken could not be altered. Bakenkhonsu remained also as a Councillor +of the King according to his right. + +When all had gone Pharaoh, who had been brooding, lifted his head and +spoke slowly but in the voice of one who gives a judgment that may not +be questioned, saying: + +“Prince Seti, you are my only son born of Queen Ast-Nefert, royal +Sister, royal Mother, who sleeps in the bosom of Osiris. It is true +that you are not my first-born son, since the Count Ramessu”—here +he pointed to a stout mild-faced man of pleasing, rather foolish +appearance—“is your elder by two years. But, as he knows well, his +mother, who is still with us, is a Syrian by birth and of no royal +blood, and therefore he can never sit upon the throne of Egypt. Is it +not so, my son Ramessu?” + +“It is so, O Pharaoh,” answered the Count in a pleasant voice, +“nor do I seek ever to sit upon that throne, who am well content with +the offices and wealth that Pharaoh has been pleased to confer upon me, +his first-born.” + +“Let the words of the Count Ramessu be written down,” said Pharaoh, +“and placed in the temple of Ptah of this city, and in the temples of +Ptah at Memphis and of Amon at Thebes, that hereafter they may never be +questioned.” + +The scribes in attendance wrote down the words and, at a sign from the +Prince Seti, I also wrote them down, setting the papyrus I had with me +on my knee. When this was finished Pharaoh went on. + +“Therefore, O Prince Seti, you are the heir of Egypt and perhaps, as +those Hebrew prophets said, will ere long be called upon to sit in my +place on its throne.” + +“May the King live for ever!” exclaimed Seti, “for well he +knows that I do not seek his crown and dignities.” + +“I do know it well, my son; so well that I wish you thought more of +that crown and those dignities which, if the gods will, must come to +you. If they will it not, next in the order of succession stands your +cousin, the Count Amenmeses, who is also of royal blood both on his +father’s and his mother’s side, and after him I know not who, +unless it be my daughter and your half-sister, the royal Princess +Userti, Lady of Egypt.” + +Now Userti spoke, very earnestly, saying: + +“O Pharaoh, surely my right in the succession, according to ancient +precedent, precedes that of my cousin, the Count Amenmeses.” + +Amenmeses was about to answer, but Pharaoh lifted his hand and he was +silent. + +“It is matter for those learned in such lore to discuss,” Meneptah +replied in a somewhat hesitating voice. “I pray the gods that it may +never be needful that this high question should be considered in the +Council. Nevertheless, let the words of the royal Princess be written +down. Now, Prince Seti,” he went on when this had been done, “you +are still unmarried, and if you have children they are not royal.” + +“I have none, O Pharaoh,” said Seti. + +“Is it so?” answered Meneptah indifferently. “The Count +Amenmeses has children I know, for I have seen them, but by his wife +Unuri, who also is of the royal line, he has none.” + +Here I heard Amenmeses mutter, “Being my aunt that is not strange,” +a saying at which Seti smiled. + +“My daughter, the Princess, is also unmarried. So it seems that the +fountain of the royal blood is running dry——” + +“Now it is coming,” whispered Seti below his breath so that only I +could hear. + +“Therefore,” continued Pharaoh, “as you know, Prince Seti, +for the royal Princess of Egypt by my command went to speak to you of +this matter last night, I make a decree——” + +“Pardon, O Pharaoh,” interrupted the Prince, “my sister spoke +to me of no decree last night, save that I should attend at the court +here to-day.” + +“Because I could not, Seti, seeing that another was present with you +whom you refused to dismiss,” and she let her eyes rest on me. + +“It matters not,” said Pharaoh, “since now I will utter it +with my own lips which perhaps is better. It is my will, Prince, that +you forthwith wed the royal Princess Userti, that children of the true +blood of the Ramessides may be born. Hear and obey.” + +Now Userti shifted her eyes from me to Seti, watching him very closely. +Seated at his side upon the ground with my writing roll spread across +my knee, I, too, watched him closely, and noted that his lips turned +white and his face grew fixed and strange. + +“I hear the command of Pharaoh,” he said in a low voice making +obeisance, and hesitated. + +“Have you aught to add?” asked Meneptah sharply. + +“Only, O Pharaoh, that though this would be a marriage decreed for +reasons of the State, still there is a lady who must be given in +marriage, and she my half-sister who heretofore has only loved me as a +relative. Therefore, I would know from her lips if it is her will to +take me as a husband.” + +Now all looked at Userti who replied in a cold voice: + +“In this matter, Prince, as in all others I have no will but that of +Pharaoh.” + +“You have heard,” interrupted Meneptah impatiently, “and as +in our House it has always been the custom for kin to marry kin, why +should it not be her will? Also, who else should she marry? Amenmeses +is already wed. There remains only Saptah his brother who is younger +than herself——” + +“So am I,” murmured Seti, “by two long years,” but +happily Userti did not hear him. + +“Nay, my father,” she said with decision, “never will I take +a deformed man to husband.” + +Now from the shadow on the further side of the throne, where I could not +see him, there hobbled forward a young noble, short in stature, +light-haired like Seti, and with a sharp, clever face which put me in +mind of that of a jackal (indeed for this reason he was named Thoth by +the common people, after the jackal-headed god). He was very angry, for +his cheeks were flushed and his small eyes flashed. + +“Must I listen, Pharaoh,” he said in a little voice, “while +my cousin the Royal Princess reproaches me in public for my lame foot, +which I have because my nurse let me fall when I was still in arms?” + +“Then his nurse let his grandfather fall also, for he too was +club-footed, as I who have seen him naked in his cradle can bear +witness,” whispered old Bakenkhonsu. + +“It seems so, Count Saptah, unless you stop your ears,” replied +Pharaoh. + +“She says she will not marry me,” went on Saptah, “me who +from childhood have been a slave to her and to no other woman.” + +“Not by my wish, Saptah. Indeed, I pray you to go and be a slave to +any woman whom you will,” exclaimed Userti. + +“But I say,” continued Saptah, “that one day she shall marry +me, for the Prince Seti will not live for ever.” + +“How do you know that, Cousin?” asked Seti. “The High-priest +here will tell you a different story.” + +Now certain of those present turned their heads away to hide the smile +upon their faces. Yet on this day some god spoke with Saptah’s voice +making him a prophet, since in a year to come she did marry him, in +order that she might stay upon the throne at a time of trouble when +Egypt would not suffer that a woman should have sole rule over the +land. + +But Pharaoh did not smile like the courtiers; indeed he grew angry. + +“Peace, Saptah!” he said. “Who are you that wrangle before +me, talking of the death of kings and saying that you will wed the Royal +princess? One more such word and you shall be driven into banishment. +Hearken now. Almost am I minded to declare my daughter, the Royal +Princess, sole heiress to the throne, seeing that in her there is more +strength and wisdom than in any other of our House.” + +“If such be Pharaoh’s will, let Pharaoh’s will be +done,” said Seti most humbly. “Well I know my own unworthiness to +fill so high a station, and by all the gods I swear that my beloved +sister will find no more faithful subject than myself.” + +“You mean, Seti,” interrupted Userti, “that rather than marry +me you would abandon your right to the double crown. Truly I am +honoured. Seti, whether you reign or I, I will not marry you.” + +“What words are these I hear?” cried Meneptah. “Is there +indeed one in this land of Egypt who dares to say that Pharaoh’s +decree shall be disobeyed? Write it down, Scribes, and you, O Officers, +let it be proclaimed from Thebes to the sea, that on the third day from +now at the hour of noon in the temple of Hathor in this city, the +Prince, the Royal Heir, Seti Meneptah, Beloved of Ra, will wed the +Royal Princess of Egypt, Lily of Love, Beloved of Hathor, Userti, +Daughter of me, the god.” + +“Life! Blood! Strength!” called all the Court. + +Then, guided by some high officer, the Prince Seti was led before the +throne and the Princess Userti was set beside him, or rather facing +him. According to the ancient custom a great gold cup was brought and +filled with red wine, to me it looked like blood. Userti took the cup +and, kneeling, gave it to the Prince, who drank and gave it back to her +that she might also drink in solemn token of their betrothal. Is not +the scene graven on the broad bracelets of gold which in after days +Seti wore when he sat upon the throne, those same bracelets that at a +future time I with my own hands clasped about the wrists of dead Userti? + +Then he stretched out his hand which she touched with her lips, and +bending down he kissed her on the brow. Lastly, Pharaoh, descending to +the lowest step of the throne, laid his sceptre, first upon the head of +the Prince, and next upon that of the Princess, blessing them both in +the name of himself, of his Ka or Double, and of the spirits and Kas of +all their forefathers, kings and queens of Egypt, thus appointing them +to come after him when he had been gathered to the bosom of the gods. + +These things done, he departed in state, surrounded by his court, +preceded and followed by his guards and leaning on the arm of the +Princess Userti, whom he loved better than anyone in the world. + +A while later I stood alone with the Prince in his private chamber, +where I had first seen him. + +“That is finished,” he said in a cheerful voice, “and I tell +you, Ana, that I feel quite, quite happy. Have you ever shivered upon +the bank of a river of a winter morning, fearing to enter, and yet, +when you did enter, have you not been pleased to find that the icy +water refreshed you and made you not cold but hot?” + +“Yes, Prince. It is when one comes out of the water, if the wind blows +and no sun shines, that one feels colder than before.” + +“True, Ana, and therefore one must not come out. One should stop there +till one—drowns or is eaten by a crocodile. But, say, did I do it +well?” + +“Old Bakenkhonsu told me, Prince, that he had been present at many +royal betrothals, I think he said eleven, and had never seen one +conducted with more grace. He added that the way in which you kissed +the brow of her Highness was perfect, as was all your demeanour after +the first argument.” + +“And so it would remain, Ana, if I were never called upon to do more +than kiss her brow, to which I have been accustomed from boyhood. Oh! +Ana, Ana,” he added in a kind of cry, “already you are becoming a +courtier like the rest of them, a courtier who cannot speak the truth. +Well, nor can I, so why should I blame you? Tell me again all about +your marriage, Ana, of how it began and how it ended.” + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +THE PROPHECY + + +Whether or no the Prince Seti saw Userti again before the hour of his +marriage with her I cannot say, because he never told me. Indeed I was +not present at the marriage, for the reason that I had been granted +leave to return to Memphis, there to settle my affairs and sell my +house on entering upon my appointment as private scribe to his +Highness. Thus it came about that fourteen full days went by from that +of the holding of the Court of Betrothal before I found myself standing +once more at the gate of the Prince’s palace, attended by a servant +who led an ass on which were laden all my manuscripts and certain +possessions that had descended to me from my ancestors with the +title-deeds of their tombs. Different indeed was my reception on this my +second coming. Even as I reached the steps the old chamberlain Pambasa +appeared, running down them so fast that his white robes and beard +streamed upon the air. + +“Greeting, most learned scribe, most honourable Ana,” he panted. +“Glad indeed am I to see you, since every hour his Highness asks if +you have returned, and blames me because you have not come. Verily I +believe that if you had stayed upon the road another day I should have +been sent to look for you, who have had sharp words said to me because +I did not arrange that you should be accompanied by a guard, as though +the Vizier Nehesi would have paid the costs of a guard without the +direct order of Pharaoh. O most excellent Ana, give me of the charm +which you have doubtless used to win the love of our royal master, and +I will pay you well for it who find it easier to earn his wrath.” + +“I will, Pambasa. Here it is—write better stories than I do instead +of telling them, and he will love you more than he does me. But +say—how went the marriage? I have heard upon the way that it was very +splendid.” + +“Splendid! Oh! it was ten times more than splendid. It was as though +the god Osiris were once more wed to the goddess Isis in the very halls +of heaven. Indeed his Highness, the bridegroom, was dressed as a god, +yes, he wore the robes and the holy ornaments of Amon. And the +procession! And the feast that Pharaoh gave! I tell you that the Prince +was so overcome with joy and all this weight of glory that, before it +was over, looking at him I saw that his eyes were closed, being dazzled +by the gleam of gold and jewels and the loveliness of his royal bride. +He told me that it was so himself, fearing perhaps lest I should have +thought that he was asleep. Then there were the presents, something to +everyone of us according to his degree. I got—well it matters not. +And, learned Ana, I did not forget you. Knowing well that everything +would be gone before you returned I spoke your name in the ear of his +Highness, offering to keep your gift.” + +“Indeed, Pambasa, and what did he say?” + +“He said that he was keeping it himself. When I stared wondering what +it might be, for I saw nothing on him, he added, ‘It is here,’ and +touched the private signet guard that he has always worn, an ancient +ring of gold, but of no great value I should say, with ‘Beloved of +Thoth and of the King’ cut upon it. It seems that he must take it off +to make room for another and much finer ring which her Highness has +given him.” + +Now, by this time, the ass having been unloaded by the slaves and led +away, we had passed through the hall where many were idling as ever, +and were come to the private apartments of the palace. + +“This way,” said Pambasa. “The orders are that I am to take +you to the Prince wherever he may be, and just now he is seated in the +great apartment with her Highness, where they have been receiving +homage and deputations from distant cities. The last left about half an +hour ago.” + +“First I will prepare myself, worthy Pambasa,” I began. + +“No, no, the orders are instant, I dare not disobey them. Enter,” +and with a courtly flourish he drew a rich curtain. + +“By Amon,” exclaimed a weary voice which I knew as that of the +Prince, “here come more councillors or priests. Prepare, my sister, +prepare!” + +“I pray you, Seti,” answered another voice, that of Userti, +“to learn to call me by my right name, which is no longer sister. Nor, +indeed, am I your full sister.” + +“I crave your pardon,” said Seti. “Prepare, Royal Wife, +prepare!” + +By now the curtain was fully drawn and I stood, travel-stained, forlorn +and, to tell the truth, trembling a little, for I feared her Highness, +in the doorway, hesitating to pass the threshold. Beyond was a splendid +chamber full of light, in the centre of which upon a carven and golden +chair, one of two that were set there, sat her Highness magnificently +apparelled, faultlessly beautiful and calm. She was engaged in studying +a painted roll, left no doubt by the last deputation, for others +similar to it were laid neatly side by side upon a table. + +The second chair was empty, for the Prince was walking restlessly up and +down the chamber, his ceremonial robe somewhat disarrayed and the +uræus circlet of gold which he wore, tilted back upon his head, +because of his habit of running his fingers through his brown hair. As +I still stood in the dark shadow, for Pambasa had left me, and thus +remained unseen, the talk went on. + +“I am prepared, Husband. Pardon me, it is you who look otherwise. Why +would you dismiss the scribes and the household before the ceremony was +ended?” + +“Because they wearied me,” said Seti, “with their continual +bowing and praising and formalities.” + +“In which I saw nothing unusual. Now they must be recalled.” + +“Let whoever it is enter,” he exclaimed. + +Then I stepped forward into the light, prostrating myself. + +“Why,” he cried, “it is Ana returned from Memphis! Draw near, +Ana, and a thousand welcomes to you. Do you know I thought that you were +another high-priest, or governor of some Nome of which I had never +heard.” + +“Ana! Who is Ana?” asked the Princess. “Oh! I remember that +scribe——. Well, it is plain that he has returned from +Memphis,” and she eyed my dusty robe. + +“Royal One,” I murmured abashed, “do not blame me that I +enter your presence thus. Pambasa led me here against my will by the +direct order of the Prince.” + +“Is it so? Say, Seti, does this man bring tidings of import from +Memphis that you needed his presence in such haste?” + +“Yes, Userti, at least I think so. You have the writings safe, have +you not, Ana?” + +“Quite safe, your Highness,” I answered, though I knew not of what +writings he spoke, unless they were the manuscripts of my stories. + +“Then, my Lord, I will leave you to talk of the tidings from Memphis +and these writings,” said the Princess. + +“Yes, yes. We must talk of them, Userti. Also of the journey to the +land of Goshen on which Ana starts with me to-morrow.” + +“To-morrow! Why this morning you told me it was fixed for three days +hence.” + +“Did I, Sister—I mean Wife? If so, it was because I was not sure +whether Ana, who is to be my chariot companion, would be back.” + +“A scribe your chariot companion! Surely it would be more fitting that +your cousin Amenmeses——” + +“To Set with Amenmeses!” he exclaimed. “You know well, +Userti, that the man is hateful to me with his cunning yet empty +talk.” + +“Indeed! I grieve to hear it, for when you hate you show it, and +Amenmeses may be a bad enemy. Then if not our cousin Amenmeses who is +not hateful to me, there is Saptah.” + +“I thank you; I will not travel in a cage with a jackal.” + +“Jackal! I do not love Saptah, but one of the royal blood of Egypt a +jackal! Then there is Nehesi the Vizier, or the General of the escort +whose name I forget.” + +“Do you think, Userti, that I wish to talk about state economies with +that old money-sack, or to listen to boastings of deeds he never did in +war from a half-bred Nubian butcher?” + +“I do not know, Husband. Yet of what will you talk with this Ana? Of +poems, I suppose, and silliness. Or will it be perchance of Merapi, Moon +of Israel, whom I gather both of you think so beautiful. Well, have +your way. You tell me that I am not to accompany you upon this journey, +I your new-made wife, and now I find that it is because you wish my +place to be filled by a writer of tales whom you picked up the other +day—your ‘twin in Ra’ forsooth! Fare you well, my Lord,” and +she rose from her seat, gathering up her robes with both hands. + +Then Seti grew angry. + +“Userti,” he said, stamping upon the floor, “you should not +use such words. You know well that I do not take you with me because +there may be danger yonder among the Hebrews. Moreover, it is not +Pharaoh’s wish.” + +She turned and answered with cold courtesy: + +“Then I crave your pardon and thank you for your kind thought for the +safety of my person. I knew not this mission was so dangerous. Be +careful, Seti, that the scribe Ana comes to no harm.” + +So saying she bowed and vanished through the curtains. + +“Ana,” said Seti, “tell me, for I never was quick at figures, +how many minutes is it from now till the fourth hour to-morrow morning +when I shall order my chariot to be ready? Also, do you know whether it +is possible to travel from Goshen across the marshes and to return by +Syria? Or, failing that, to travel across the desert to Thebes and sail +down the Nile in the spring?” + +“Oh! my Prince, my Prince,” I said, “I pray you to dismiss +me. Let me go anywhere out of the reach of her Highness’s tongue.” + +“It is strange how alike we think upon every matter, Ana, even of +Merapi and the tongues of royal ladies. Hearken to my command. You are +not to go. If it is a question of going, there are others who will go +first. Moreover, you cannot go, but must stay and bear your burdens as +I bear mine. Remember the broken cup, Ana.” + +“I remember, my Prince, but sooner would I be scourged with rods than +by such words as those to which I must listen.” + +Yet that very night, when I had left the Prince, I was destined to hear +more pleasant words from this same changeful, or perchance politic, +royal lady. She sent for me and I went, much afraid. I found her in a +small chamber alone, save for one old lady of honour who sat at the end +of the room and appeared to be deaf, which perhaps was why she was +chosen. Userti bade me be seated before her very courteously, and spoke +to me thus, whether because of some talk she had held with the Prince +or not, I do not know. + +“Scribe Ana, I ask your pardon if, being vexed and wearied, I said to +you and of you to-day what I now wish I had left unsaid. I know well +that you, being of the gentle blood of Egypt, will make no report of +what you heard outside these walls.” + +“May my tongue be cut out first,” I answered. + +“It seems, Scribe Ana, that my lord the Prince has taken a great love +of you. How or why this came about so suddenly, you being a man, I do +not understand, but I am sure that as it is so, it must be because +there is much in you to love, since never did I know the Prince to show +deep regard for one who was not most honourable and worthy. Now things +being so, it is plain that you will become the favourite of his +Highness, a man who does not change his mind in such matters, and that +he will tell you all his secret thoughts, perhaps some that he hides +from the Councillors of State, or even from me. In short you will grow +into a power in the land and perhaps one day be the greatest in +it—after Pharaoh—although you may still seem to be but a private +scribe. + +“I do not pretend to you that I should have wished this to be so, who +would rather that my husband had but one real councillor—myself. Yet +seeing that it is so, I bow my head, hoping that it may be decreed for +the best. If ever any jealousy should overcome me in this matter and I +should speak sharply to you, as I did to-day, I ask your pardon in +advance for that which has not happened, as I have asked it for that +which has happened. I pray of you, Scribe Ana, that you will do your +best to influence the mind of the Prince for good, since he is easily +led by any whom he loves. I pray you also being quick and thoughtful, +as I see you are, that you will make a study of statecraft, and of the +policies of our royal House, coming to me, if it be needful, for +instruction therein, so that you may be able to guide the feet of the +Prince aright, should he turn to you for counsel.” + +“All of this I will do, your Highness, if by any chance it lies in my +power, though who am I that I should hope to make a path for the feet of +kings? Moreover, I would add this, although he is so gentle-natured, I +think that in the end the Prince is one who will always choose his own +path.” + +“It may be so Ana. At the least I thank you. I pray you to be sure +also that in me you will always have a friend and not an enemy, +although at times the quickness of my nature, which has never been +controlled, may lead you to think otherwise. Now I will say one more +thing that shall be secret between us. I know that the Prince loves me +as a friend and relative rather than as a wife, and that he would not +have sought this marriage of himself, as is perhaps natural. I know, +too, that other women will come into his life, though these may be +fewer than in the case of most kings, because he is more hard to please. + Of such I cannot complain, as this is according to the customs of our +country. I fear only one thing—namely that some woman, ceasing to be +his toy, may take Seti’s heart and make him altogether hers. In this +matter, Scribe Ana, as in others I ask your help, since I would be +queen of Egypt in all ways, not in name only.” + +“Your Highness, how can I say to the Prince—‘So much shall +you love this or that woman and no more?’ Moreover, why do you fear +that which has not and may never come about?” + +“I do not know how you can say such a thing, Scribe, still I ask you +to say it if you can. As to why I fear, it is because I seem to feel +the near shadow of some woman lying cold upon me and building a wall of +blackness between his Highness and myself.” + +“It is but a dream, Princess.” + +“Mayhap. I hope so. Yet I think otherwise. Oh! Ana, cannot you, who +study the hearts of men and women, understand my case? I have married +where I can never hope to be loved as other women are, I who am a wife, +yet not a wife. I read your thought; it is—why then did you marry? +Since I have told you so much I will tell you that also. First, it is +because the Prince is different to other men and in his own fashion +above them, yes, far above any with whom I could have wed as royal +heiress of Egypt. Secondly, because being cut off from love, what +remains to me but ambition? At least I would be a great queen, as was +Hatshepu in her day, and lift my country out of the many troubles in +which it is sunk and write my name large upon the books of history, +which I could only do by taking Pharaoh’s heir to husband, as is my +duty.” + +She brooded a while, then added, “Now I have shown you all my thought. +Whether I have been wise to do so the gods know alone and time will tell +me.” + +“Princess,” I said, “I thank you for trusting me and I will +help you if I may. Yet I am troubled. I, a humble man if of good blood, +who a little while ago was but a scribe and a student, a dreamer who +had known trouble also, have suddenly by chance, or some divine decree, +been lifted high in the favour of the heir of Egypt, and it would seem +have even won your trust. Now I wonder how I shall bear myself in this +new place which in truth I never sought.” + +“I do not know, who find the present and its troubles enough to carry. +But, doubtless, the decree of which you speak that set you there has +also written down what will be the end of all. Meanwhile, I have a gift +for you. Say, Scribe, have you ever handled any weapon besides a +pen?” + +“Yes, your Highness, as a lad I was skilled in sword play. Moreover, +though I do not love war and bloodshed, some years ago I fought in the +great battle between the Ninebow Barbarians, when Pharaoh called upon +the young men of Memphis to do their part. With my own hands I slew two +in fair fight, though one nearly brought me to my end,” and I pointed +to a scar which showed red through my grey hair where a spear had +bitten deep. + +“It is well, or so I think, who love soldiers better than stainers of +papyrus pith.” + +Then, going to a painted chest of reeds, she took from it a wonderful +shirt of mail fashioned of bronze rings, and a short sword also of +bronze, having a golden hilt of which the end was shaped to the +likeness of the head of a lion, and with her own hands gave them to me, +saying: + +“These are spoils that my grandsire, the great Rameses, took in his +youth from a prince of the Khitah, whom he smote with his own hands in +Syria in that battle whereof your grandfather made the poem. Wear the +shirt, which no spear will pierce, beneath your robe and gird the sword +about you when you go down yonder among the Israelites, whom I do not +trust. I have given a like coat to the Prince. Let it be your duty to +see that it is upon his sacred person day and night. Let it be your +duty also, if need arises, with this sword to defend him to the death. +Farewell.” + +“May all the gods reject me from the Fields of the Blessed if I fail +in this trust,” I answered, and departed wondering, to seek sleep +which, as it chanced, I was not to find for a while. + +For as I went down the corridor, led by one of the ladies of the +household, whom should I find waiting at the end of it but old Pambasa +to inform me with many bows that the Prince needed my presence. I asked +how that could be seeing he had dismissed me for the night. He replied +that he did not know, but he was commanded to conduct me to the private +chamber, the same room in which I had first seen his Highness. Thither +I went and found him warming himself at the fire, for the night was +cold. Looking up he bade Pambasa admit those who were waiting, then +noting the shirt of mail and the sword I carried in my hand, said: + +“You have been with the Princess, have you not, and she must have had +much to say to you for your talk was long? Well, I think I can guess its +purport who from a child have known her mind. She told you to watch me +well, body and heart and all that comes from the heart—oh! and much +else. Also she gave you that Syrian gear to wear among the Hebrews as +she has given the like to me, being of a careful mind which foresees +everything. Now, hearken, Ana; I grieve to keep you from your rest, who +must be weary both with talk and travel. But old Bakenkhonsu, whom you +know, waits without, and with him Ki the great magician, whom I think +you have not seen. He is a man of wonderful lore and in some ways not +altogether human. At least he does strange feats of magic, and at times +both the past and the future seem to be open to his sight, though as we +know neither the one nor the other, who can tell whether he reads them +truly. Doubtless he has, or thinks he has, some message to me from the +heavens, which I thought you might wish to hear.” + +“I wish it much, Prince, if I am worthy, and you will protect me from +the anger of this magician whom I fear.” + +“Anger sometimes turns to trust, Ana. Did you not find it so just now +in the case of her Highness, as I told you might very well happen? +Hush! They come. Be seated and prepare your tablets to make record of +what they say.” + +The curtains were drawn and through them came the aged Bakenkhonsu +leaning upon his staff, and with him another man, Ki himself, clad in a +white robe and having his head shaven, for he was an hereditary priest +of Amon of Thebes and an initiate of Isis, Mother of Mysteries. Also +his office was that of Kherheb, or chief magician of Egypt. At first +sight there was nothing strange about this man. Indeed, he might well +have been a middle-aged merchant by his looks; in body he was short and +stout; in face fat and smiling. But in this jovial countenance were set +two very strange eyes, grey-hued rather than black. While the rest of +the face seemed to smile these eyes looked straight into nothingness as +do those of a statue. Indeed they were like to the eyes or rather the +eye-places of a stone statue, so deeply were they set into the head. +For my part I can only say I thought them awful, and by their look +judged that whatever Ki might be he was no cheat. + +This strange pair bowed to the Prince and seated themselves at a sign +from him, Bakenkhonsu upon a stool because he found it difficult to +rise, and Ki, who was younger, scribe fashion on the ground. + +“What did I tell you, Bakenkhonsu?” said Ki in a full, rich voice, +ending the words with a curious chuckle. + +“You told me, Magician, that we should find the Prince in this chamber +of which you described every detail to me as I see it now, although +neither of us have entered it before. You said also that seated therein +on the ground would be the scribe Ana, whom I know but you do not, +having in his hands waxen tablets and a stylus and by him a coat of +curious mail and a lion-hilted sword.” + +“That is strange,” interrupted the Prince, “but forgive me, +Bakenkhonsu sees these things. If you, O Ki, would tell us what is +written upon Ana’s tablets which neither of you can see, it would be +stranger still, that is if anything is written.” + +Ki smiled and stared upwards at the ceiling. Presently he said: + +“The scribe Ana uses a shorthand of his own that is not easy to +decipher. Yet I see written on the tablets the price he obtained for +some house in a city that is not named—it is so much. Also I see the +sums he disbursed for himself, a servant, and the food of an ass at two +inns where he stopped upon a journey. They are so much and so much. +Also there is a list of papyrus rolls and the words, ‘blue cloak,’ +and then an erasure.” + +“Is that right, Ana?” asked the Prince. + +“Quite right,” I answered with awe, “only the words +‘blue cloak,’ which it is true I wrote upon the tablet, have also +been erased.” + +Ki chuckled and turned his eyes from the ceiling to my face. + +“Would your Highness wish me to tell you anything of what is written +upon the tablets of this scribe’s memory as well as upon those of wax +which he holds in his hand? They are easier to decipher than the others +and I see on them many things of interest. For instance, secret words +that seem to have been said to him by some Great One within an hour, +matters of high policy, I think. For instance, a certain saying, I +think of your Highness’s, as to shivering upon the edge of water on a +cold day, which when entered produced heat, and the answer thereto. For +instance, words that were spoken in this palace when an alabaster cup +was broke. By the way, Scribe, that was a very good place you chose in +which to hide one half of the cup in the false bottom of a chest in +your chamber, a chest that is fastened with a cord and sealed with a +scarab of the time of the second Rameses. I think that the other half of + the cup is somewhat nearer at hand,” and turning, he stared at the +wall where I could see nothing save slabs of alabaster. + +Now I sat open-mouthed, for how could this man know these things, and +the Prince laughed outright, saying: + +“Ana, I begin to think you keep your counsel ill. At least I should +think so, were it not that you have had no time to tell what the +Princess yonder may have said to you, and can scarcely know the trick +of the sliding panel in that wall which I have never shown to you.” + +Ki chuckled again and a smile grew on old Bakenkhonsu’s broad and +wrinkled face. + +“O Prince,” I began, “I swear to you that never has one word +passed my lips of aught——” + +“I know it, friend,” broke in the Prince, “but it seems there +are some who do not wait for words but can read the Book of Thought. +Therefore it is not well to meet them too often, since all have +thoughts that should be known only to them and God. Magician, what is +your business with me? Speak on as though we were alone.” + +“This, Prince. You go upon a journey among the Hebrews, as all have +heard. Now, Bakenkhonsu and I, also two seers of my College, seeing that +we all love you and that your welfare is much to Egypt, have separately +sought out the future as regards the issue of this journey. Although +what we have learned differs in some matters, on others it is the same. +Therefore we thought it our duty to tell you what we have learned.” + +“Say on, Kherheb.” + +“First, then, that your Highness’s life will be in danger.” + +“Life is always in danger, Ki. Shall I lose it? If so, do not fear to +tell me.” + +“We do not know, but we think not, because of the rest that is +revealed to us. We learn that it is not your body only that will be in +danger. Upon this journey you will see a woman whom you will come to +love. This woman will, we think, bring you much sorrow and also much +joy.” + +“Then perhaps the journey is worth making, Ki, since many travel far +before they find aught they can love. Tell me, have I met this woman?” + +“There we are troubled, Prince, for it would seem—unless we are +deceived—that you have met her often and often; that you have known +her for thousands of years, as you have known that man at your side for +thousands of years.” + +Seti’s face grew very interested. + +“What do you mean, Magician?” he asked, eyeing him keenly. +“How can I who am still young have known a woman and a man for +thousands of years?” + +Ki considered him with his strange eyes, and answered: + +“You have many titles, Prince. Is not one of them ‘Lord of +Rebirths,’ and if so, how did you get it and what does it mean?” + +“It is. What it means I do not know, but it was given to me because of +some dream that my mother had the night before I was born. Do _you_ tell +_me_ what it means, since you seem to know so much.” + +“I cannot, Prince. The secret is not one that has been shown to me. +Yet there was an aged man, a magician like myself from whom I learned +much in my youth—Bakenkhonsu knew him well—who made a study of this +matter. He told me he was sure, because it had been revealed to him, +that men do not live once only and then depart hence for ever. He said +that they live many times and in many shapes, though not always on this +world, and that between each life there is a wall of darkness.” + +“If so, of what use are lives which we do not remember after death has +shut the door of each of them?” + +“The doors may open again at last, Prince, and show us all the +chambers through which our feet have wandered from the beginning.” + +“Our religion teaches us, Ki, that after death we live eternally +elsewhere in our own bodies, which we find again on the day of +resurrection. Now eternity, having no end, can have no beginning; it is +a circle. Therefore if the one be true, namely that we live on, it +would seem that the other must be true, namely that we have always +lived.” + +“That is well reasoned, Prince. In the early days, before the priests +froze the thought of man into blocks of stone and built of them shrines +to a thousand gods, many held that this reasoning was true, as then +they held that there was but one god.” + +“As do these Israelites whom I go to visit. What say you of their god, +Ki?” + +“That _he_ is the same as our gods, Prince. To men’s eyes God +has many faces, and each swears that the one he sees is the only true +god. Yet they are wrong, for all are true.” + +“Or perchance false, Ki, unless even falsehood is a part of truth. +Well, you have told me of two dangers, one to my body and one to my +heart. Has any other been revealed to your wisdom?” + +“Yes, Prince. The third is that this journey may in the end cost you +your throne.” + +“If I die certainly it will cost me my throne.” + +“No, Prince, if you live.” + +“Even so, Ki, I think that I could endure life seated more humbly than +on a throne, though whether her Highness could endure it is another +matter. Then you say that if I go upon this journey another will be +Pharaoh in my place.” + +“We do not say that, Prince. It is true that our arts have shown us +another filling your place in a time of wizardry and wonders and of the +death of thousands. Yet when we look again we see not that other but +you once more filling your own place.” + +Here I, Ana, bethought me of my vision in Pharaoh’s hall. + +“The matter is even worse than I thought, Ki, since having once left +the crown behind me, I think that I should have no wish to wear it any +more,” said Seti. “Who shows you all these things, and how?” + +“Our _Kas_, which are our secret selves, show them to us, Prince, +and in many ways. Sometimes it is by dreams or visions, sometimes by +pictures on water, sometimes by writings in the desert sand. In all +these fashions, and by others, our _Kas_, drawing from the infinite +well of wisdom that is hidden in the being of every man, give us +glimpses of the truth, as they give us who are instructed power to work +marvels.” + +“Of the truth. Then these things you tell me are true?” + +“We believe so, Prince.” + +“Then being true must happen. So what is the use of your warning me +against what must happen? There cannot be two truths. What would you +have me do? Not go upon this journey? Why have you told me that I must +not go, since if I did not go the truth would become a lie, which it +cannot? You say it is fated that I should go and because I go such and +such things will come about. And yet you tell me not to go, for that is +what you mean. Oh! Kherheb Ki and Bakenkhonsu, doubtless you are great +magicians and strong in wisdom, but there are greater than you who rule +the world, and there is a wisdom to which yours is but as a drop of +water to the Nile. I thank you for your warnings, but to-morrow I go +down to the land of Goshen to fulfil the commands of Pharaoh. If I come +back again we will talk more of these matters here upon the earth. If I +do not come back, perchance we will talk of them elsewhere. Farewell.” + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +THE LAND OF GOSHEN + + +The Prince Seti and all his train, a very great company, came in safety +to the land of Goshen, I, Ana, travelling with him in his chariot. It +was then as now a rich land, quite flat after the last line of desert +hills through which we travelled by a narrow, tortuous path. Everywhere +it was watered by canals, between which lay the grain fields wherein +the seed had just been sown. Also there were other fields of green +fodder whereon were tethered beasts by the hundred, and beyond these, +upon the drier soil, grazed flocks of sheep. The town Goshen, if so it +could be called, was but a poor place, numbers of mud huts, no more, in +the centre of which stood a building, also of mud, with two brick +pillars in front of it, that we were told was the temple of this people, + into the inner parts of which none might enter save their High-priest. +I laughed at the sight of it, but the Prince reproved me, saying that I +should not judge the spirit by the body, or of the god by his house. + +We camped outside this town and soon learned that the people who dwelt +in it or elsewhere in other towns must be numbered by the ten thousand, +for more of them than I could count wandered round the camp to look at +us. The men were fierce-eyed and hook-nosed; the young women +well-shaped and pleasant to behold; the older women for the most part +stout and somewhat unwieldy, and the children very beautiful. All were +roughly clad in robes of loosely-woven, dark-coloured cloth, beneath +which the women wore garments of white linen. Notwithstanding the +wealth we saw about us in corn and cattle, their ornaments seemed to be +few, or perhaps these were hidden from our sight. + +It was easy to see that they hated us Egyptians, and even dared to +despise us. Hate shone in their glittering eyes, and I heard them +calling us the ‘idol-worshippers’ one to the other, and asking +where was our god, the Bull, for being ignorant they thought that we +worshipped Apis (as mayhap some of the common people do) instead of +looking upon the sacred beast as a symbol of the powers of Nature. +Indeed they did more, for on the first night after our coming they +slaughtered a bull marked much as Apis is, and in the morning we found +it lying near the gate of the camp, and pinned to its hide with sharp +thorns great numbers of the scarabæus beetle still living. For again +they did not know that among us Egyptians this beetle is no god but an +emblem of the Creator, because it rolls a ball of mud between its feet +and sets therein its eggs to hatch, as the Creator rolls the world that +seems to be round, and causes it to produce life. + +Now all were angry at these insults except the Prince, who laughed and +said that he thought the jest coarse but clever. But worse was to +happen. It seems that a soldier with wine in him had done insult to a +Hebrew maiden who came alone to draw water at a canal. The news spread +among the people and some thousands of them rushed to the camp, +shouting and demanding vengeance in so threatening a manner that it was +necessary to form up the regiments of guards. + +The Prince being summoned commanded that the girl and her kin should be +admitted and state their case. She came, weeping and wailing and tearing +her garments, throwing dust on her head also, though it appeared that +she had taken no great harm from the soldier from whom she ran away. +The Prince bade her point out the man if she could see him, and she +showed us one of the bodyguard of the Count Amenmeses, whose face was +scratched as though by a woman’s nails. On being questioned he said +he could remember little of the matter, but confessed that he had seen +the maiden by the canal at moonrise and jested with her. + +The kin of this girl clamoured that he should be killed, because he had +offered insult to a high-born lady of Israel. This Seti refused, saying +that the offence was not one of death, but that he would order him to +be publicly beaten. Thereupon Amenmeses, who was fond of the soldier, a +good man enough when not in his cups, sprang up in a rage, saying that +no servant of his should be touched because he had offered to caress +some light Israelitish woman who had no business to be wandering about +alone at night. He added that if the man were flogged he and all those +under his command would leave the camp and march back to make report to +Pharaoh. + +Now the Prince, having consulted with the councillors, told the woman +and her kin that as Pharaoh had been appealed to, he must judge of the +matter, and commanded them to appear at his court within a month and +state their case against the soldier. They went away very +ill-satisfied, saying that Amenmeses had insulted their daughter even +more than his servant had done. The end of this matter was that on the +following night this soldier was discovered dead, pierced through and +through with knife thrusts. The girl, her parents and brethren could +not be found, having fled away into the desert, nor was there any +evidence to show by whom the soldier had been murdered. Therefore +nothing could be done in the business except bury the victim. + +On the following morning the Inquiry began with due ceremony, the Prince +Seti and the Count Amenmeses taking their seats at the head of a large +pavilion with the councillors behind them and the scribes, among whom I +was, seated at their feet. Then we learned that the two prophets whom I +had seen at Pharaoh’s court were not in the land of Goshen, having +left before we arrived “to sacrifice to God in the wilderness,” nor +did any know when they would return. Other elders and priests, however, +appeared and began to set out their case, which they did at great +length and in a fierce and turbulent fashion, speaking often all of +them at once, thus making it difficult for the interpreters to render +their words, since they pretended that they did not know the Egyptian +tongue. + +Moreover they told their story from the very beginning, when they had +entered Egypt hundreds of years before and were succoured by the vizier +of the Pharaoh of that day, one Yusuf, a powerful and clever man of +their race who stored corn in a time of famine and low Niles. This +Pharaoh was of the Hyksos people, one of the Shepherd kings whom we +Egyptians hated and after many wars drove out of Khem. Under these +Shepherd kings, being joined by many of their own blood, the Israelites +grew rich and powerful, so that the Pharaohs who came after and who +loved them not, began to fear them. + +This was as far as the story was taken on the first day. + +On the second day began the tale of their oppression, under which, +however, they still multiplied like gnats upon the Nile, and grew so +strong and numerous that at length the great Rameses did a wicked +thing, ordering that their male children should be put to death. This +order was never carried out, because his daughter, she who found Moses +among the reeds of the river, pleaded for them. + +At this point the Prince, wearied with the noise and heat in that +crowded place, broke off the sitting until the morrow. Commanding me to +accompany him, he ordered a chariot, not his own, to be made ready, +and, although I prayed him not to do so, set out unguarded save for +myself and the charioteer, saying that he would see how these people +laboured with his own eyes. + +Taking a Hebrew lad to run before the horses as our guide, we drove to +the banks of a canal where the Israelites made bricks of mud which, +after drying in the sun, were laden into boats that waited for them on +the canal and taken away to other parts of Egypt to be used on +Pharaoh’s works. Thousands of men were engaged upon this labour, +toiling in gangs under the command of Egyptian overseers who kept count +of the bricks, cutting their number upon tally sticks, or sometimes +writing them upon sherds. These overseers were brutal fellows, for the +most part of the low class, who used vile language to the slaves. Nor +were they content with words. Noting a crowd gathered at one place and +hearing cries, we went to see what passed. Here we found a lad +stretched upon the ground being cruelly beaten with hide whips, so that +the blood ran down him. At a sign from the Prince I asked what he had +done and was told roughly, for the overseers and their guards did not +know who we were, that during the past six days he had only made half +of his allotted tale of bricks. + +“Loose him,” said the Prince quietly. + +“Who are you that give me orders?” asked the head overseer, who was +helping to hold the lad while the guards flogged him. “Begone, lest I +serve you as I serve this idle fellow.” + +Seti looked at him, and as he looked his lips turned white. + +“Tell him,” he said to me. + +“You dog!” I gasped. “Do you know who it is to whom you dare +to speak thus?” + +“No, nor care. Lay on, guard.” + +The Prince, whose robes were hidden by a wide-sleeved cloak of common +stuff and make, threw the cloak open revealing beneath it the pectoral +he had worn in the Court, a beautiful thing of gold whereon were +inscribed his royal names and titles in black and red enamel. Also he +held up his right hand on which was a signet of Pharaoh’s that he +wore as his commissioner. The men stared, then one of them who was more +learned than the rest cried: + +“By the gods! this is his Highness the Prince of Egypt!” at which +words all of them fell upon their faces. + +“Rise,” said Seti to the lad who looked at him, forgetting his pain +in his wonderment, “and tell me why you have not delivered your tale +of bricks.” + +“Sir,” sobbed the boy in bad Egyptian, “for two reasons. +First, because I am a cripple, see,” and he held up his left arm which +was withered and thin as a mummy’s, “and therefore cannot work +quickly. Secondly, because my mother, whose only child I am, is a widow +and lies sick in bed, so that there are no women or children in our +home who can go out to gather straw for me, as Pharaoh has commanded +that we should do. Therefore I must spend many hours in searching for +straw, since I have no means wherewith to pay others to do this for +me.” + +“Ana,” said the Prince, “write down this youth’s name +with the place of his abode, and if his tale prove true, see that his +wants and those of his mother are relieved before we depart from +Goshen. Write down also the names of this overseer and his fellows and +command them to report themselves at my camp to-morrow at sunrise, when +their case shall be considered. Say to the lad also that, being one +afflicted by the gods, Pharaoh frees him from the making of bricks and +all other labour of the State.” + +Now while I did these things the overseer and his companions beat their +heads upon the ground and prayed for mercy, being cowards as the cruel +always are. His Highness answered them never a word, but only looked at +them with cold eyes, and I noted that his face which was so kind had +grown terrible. So those men thought also, for that night they ran away +to Syria, leaving their families and all their goods behind them, nor +were they ever seen again in Egypt. + +When I had finished writing the Prince turned and, walking to where the +chariot waited, bade the driver cross the canal by a bridge there was +here. We drove on a while in silence, following a track which ran +between the cultivated land and the desert. At length I pointed to the +sinking sun and asked if it were not time to return. + +“Why?” replied the Prince. “The sun dies, but there rises the +full moon to give us light, and what have we to fear with swords at our +sides and her Highness Userti’s mail beneath our robes? Oh! Ana, I am +weary of men with their cruelties and shouts and strugglings, and I +find this wilderness a place of rest, for in it I seem to draw nearer +to my own soul and the Heaven whence it came, or so I hope.” + +“Your Highness is fortunate to have a soul to which he cares to draw +near; it is not so with all of us;” I answered laughing, for I sought +to change the current of his thoughts by provoking argument of a sort +that he loved. + +Just then, however, the horses, which were not of the best, came to a +halt on a slope of heavy sand. Nor would Seti allow the driver to flog +them, but commanded him to let them rest a space. While they did so we +descended from the chariot and walked up the desert rise, he leaning on +my arm. As we reached its crest we heard sobs and a soft voice speaking +on the further side. Who it was that spoke and sobbed we could not see, +because of a line of tamarisk shrubs which once had been a fence. + +“More cruelty, or at least more sorrow,” whispered Seti. “Let +us look.” + +So we crept to the tamarisks, and peeping through their feathery tops, +saw a very sweet sight in the pure rays of that desert moon. There, not +five paces away, stood a woman clad in white, young and shapely in +form. Her face we could not see because it was turned from us, also the +long dark hair which streamed about her shoulders hid it. She was +praying aloud, speaking now in Hebrew, of which both of us knew +something, and now in Egyptian, as does one who is accustomed to think +in either tongue, and stopping from time to time to sob. + +“O God of my people,” she said, “send me succour and bring me +safe home, that Thy child may not be left alone in the wilderness to +become the prey of wild beasts, or of men who are worse than beasts.” + +Then she sobbed, knelt down on a great bundle which I saw was stubble +straw, and again began to pray. This time it was in Egyptian, as though +she feared lest the Hebrew should be overheard and understood. + +“O God,” she said, “O God of my fathers, help my poor heart, +help my poor heart!” + +We were about to withdraw, or rather to ask her what she ailed, when +suddenly she turned her head, so that the light fell full upon her +face. So lovely was it that I caught my breath and the Prince at my +side started. Indeed it was more than lovely, for as a lamp shines +through an alabaster vase or a shell of pearl so did the spirit within +this woman shine through her tear-stained face, making it mysterious as +the night. Then I understood, perhaps for the first time, that it is +the spirit which gives true beauty both to maid and man and not the +flesh. The white vase of alabaster, however shapely, is still a vase +alone; it is the hidden lamp within that graces it with the glory of a +star. And those eyes, those large, dreaming eyes aswim with tears and +hued like richest lapis-lazuli, oh! what man could look on them and not +be stirred? + +“Merapi!” I whispered. + +“Moon of Israel!” murmured Seti, “filled with the moon, +lovely as the moon, mystic as the moon and worshipping the moon, her +mother.” + +“She is in trouble; let us help her,” I said. + +“Nay, wait a while, Ana, for never again shall you and I see such a +sight as this.” + +Low as we spoke beneath our breath, I think the lady heard us. At least +her face changed and grew frightened. Hastily she rose, lifted the +great bundle of straw upon which she had been kneeling and placed it on +her head. She ran a few steps, then stumbled and sank down with a +little moan of pain. In an instant we were at her side. She stared at +us affrighted, for who we were she could not see because of the wide +hoods of our common cloaks that made us look like midnight thieves, or +slave-dealing Bedouin. + +“Oh! Sirs,” she babbled, “harm me not. I have nothing of +value on me save this amulet.” + +“Who are you and what do you here?” asked the Prince disguising his +voice. + +“Sirs, I am Merapi, the daughter of Nathan the Levite, he whom the +accursed Egyptian captain, Khuaka, murdered at Tanis.” + +“How do you dare to call the Egyptians accursed?” asked Seti in +tones made gruff to hide his laughter. + +“Oh! Sirs, because they are—I mean because I thought you were Arabs +who hate them, as we do. At least this Egyptian was accursed, for the +high Prince Seti, Pharaoh’s heir, caused him to be beheaded for that +crime.” + +“And do you hate the high Prince Seti, Pharaoh’s heir, and call him +accursed?” + +She hesitated, then in a doubtful voice said: + +“No, I do not hate him.” + +“Why not, seeing that you hate the Egyptians of whom he is one of the +first and therefore twice worthy of hatred, being the son of your +oppressor, Pharaoh?” + +“Because, although I have tried my best, I cannot. Also,” she added +with the joy of one who has found a good reason, “he avenged my +father.” + +“This is no cause, girl, seeing that he only did what the law forced +him to do. They say that this dog of a Pharaoh’s son is here in +Goshen upon some mission. Is it true, and have you seen him? Answer, +for we of the desert folk desire to know.” + +“I believe it is true, Sir, but I have not seen him.” + +“Why not, if he is here?” + +“Because I do not wish to, Sir. Why should a daughter of Israel desire +to look upon the face of a prince of Egypt?” + +“In truth I do not know,” replied Seti forgetting his feigned +voice. Then, seeing that she glanced at him sharply, he added in gruff +tones: + +“Brother, either this woman lies or she is none other than the maid +they call Moon of Israel who dwells with old Jabez the Levite, her +uncle. What think you?” + +“I think, Brother, that she lies, and for three reasons,” I +answered, falling into the jest. “First, she is too fair to be of the +black Hebrew blood.” + +“Oh! Sir,” moaned Merapi, “my mother was a Syrian lady of the +mountains, with a skin as white as milk, and eyes blue as the +heavens.” + +“Secondly,” I went on without heeding her, “if the great +Prince Seti is really in Goshen and she dwells there, it is unnatural +that she should not have gone to look upon him. Being a woman only two +things would have kept her away, one—that she feared and hated him, +which she denies, and the other—that she liked him too well, and, +being prudent, thought it wisest not to look upon him more.” + +When she heard the first of these words, Merapi glanced up with her lips +parted as though to answer. Instead, she dropped her eyes and suddenly +seemed to choke, while even in the moonlight I saw the red blood pour +to her brow and along her white arms. + +“Sir,” she gasped, “why should you affront me? I swear that +never till this moment did I think such a thing. Surely it would be +treason.” + +“Without doubt,” interrupted Seti, “yet one of a sort that +kings might pardon.” + +“Thirdly,” I went on as though I had heard neither of them, +“if this girl were what she declares, she would not be wandering alone +in the desert at night, seeing that I have heard among the Arabs that +Merapi, daughter of Nathan the Levite, is a lady of no mean blood among +the Hebrews and that her family has wealth. Still, however much she +lies, we can see for ourselves that she is beautiful.” + +“Yes, Brother, in that we are fortunate, since without doubt she will +sell for a high price among the slave traders beyond the desert.” + +“Oh! Sir,” cried Merapi seizing the hem of his robe, “surely +you who I feel, I know not why, are no evil thief, you who have a mother +and, perchance, sisters, would not doom a maiden to such a fate. +Misjudge me not because I am alone. Pharaoh has commanded that we must +find straw for the making of bricks. This morning I came far to search +for it on behalf of a neighbour whose wife is ill in childbed. But +towards sundown I slipped and cut myself upon the edge of a sharp +stone. See,” and holding up her foot she showed a wound beneath the +instep from which the blood still dropped, a sight that moved both of +us not a little, “and now I cannot walk and carry this heavy straw +which I have been at such pains to gather.” + +“Perchance she speaks truth, Brother,” said the Prince, “and +if we took her home we might earn no small reward from Jabez the Levite. +But first tell me, Maiden, what was that prayer which you made to the +moon, that Hathor should help your heart?” + +“Sir,” she answered, “only the idolatrous Egyptians pray to +Hathor, the Lady of Love.” + +“I thought that all the world prayed to the Lady of Love, Maiden. But +what of the prayer? Is there some man whom you desire?” + +“None,” she answered angrily. + +“Then why does your heart need so much help that you ask it of the +air? Is there perchance someone whom you do _not_ desire?” + +She hung her head and made no answer. + +“Come, Brother,” said the Prince, “this lady is weary of us, +and I think that if she were a true woman she would answer our questions +more readily. Let us go and leave her. As she cannot walk we can take +her later if we wish.” + +“Sirs,” she said, “I am glad that you are going, since the +hyenas will be safer company than two men who can threaten to sell a +helpless woman into slavery. Yet as we part to meet no more I will +answer your question. In the prayer to which you were not ashamed to +listen I did not pray for any lover, I prayed to be rid of one.” + +“Now, Ana,” said the Prince bursting into laughter and throwing +back his dark cloak, “do you discover the name of that unhappy man of +whom the lady Merapi wishes to be rid, for I dare not.” + +She gazed into his face and uttered a little cry. + +“Ah!” she said, “I thought I knew the voice again when once +you forget your part. Prince Seti, does your Highness think that this +was a kind jest to practise upon one alone and in fear?” + +“Lady Merapi,” he answered smiling, “be not wroth, for at +least it was a good one and you have told us nothing that we did not +know. You may remember that at Tanis you said that you were affianced +and there was that in your voice——. Suffer me now to tend this +wound of yours.” + +Then he knelt down, tore a strip from his ceremonial robe of fine linen, +and began to bind up her foot, not unskilfully, being a man full of +strange and unexpected knowledge. As he worked at the task, watching +them, I saw their eyes meet, saw too that rich flood of colour creep +once more to Merapi’s brow. Then I began to think it unseemly that +the Prince of Egypt should play the leech to a woman’s hurts, and to +wonder why he had not left that humble task to me. + +Presently the bandaging was done and made fast with a royal scarabæus +mounted on a pin of gold, which the Prince wore in his garments. On it +was cut the uræus crown and beneath it were the signs which read +“Lord of the Lower and the Upper Land,” being Pharaoh’s style and +title. + +“See now, Lady,” he said, “you have Egypt beneath your +foot,” and when she asked him what he meant, he read her the writing +upon the jewel, whereat for the third time she coloured to the eyes. +Then he lifted her up, instructing her to rest her weight upon his +shoulder, saying he feared lest the scarab, which he valued, should be +broken. + +Thus we started, I bearing the bundle of straw behind as he bade me, +since, he said, having been gathered with such toil, it must not be +lost. On reaching the chariot, where we found the guide gone and the +driver asleep, he sat her in it upon his cloak, and wrapped her in mine +which he borrowed, saying I should not need it who must carry the +straw. Then he mounted also and they drove away at a foot’s pace. As +I walked after the chariot with the straw that fell about my ears, I +heard nothing of their further talk, if indeed they talked at all +which, the driver being present, perhaps they did not. Nor in truth did +I listen who was engaged in thought as to the hard lot of these poor +Hebrews, who must collect this dirty stuff and bear it so far, made +heavy as it was by the clay that clung about the roots. + +Even now, as it chanced, we did not reach Goshen without further +trouble. Just as we had crossed the bridge over the canal I, toiling +behind, saw in the clear moonlight a young man running towards us. He +was a Hebrew, tall, well-made and very handsome in his fashion. His +eyes were dark and fierce, his nose was hooked, his teeth were regular +and white, and his long, black hair hung down in a mass upon his +shoulders. He held a wooden staff in his hand and a naked knife was +girded about his middle. Seeing the chariot he halted and peered at it, +then asked in Hebrew if those who travelled had seen aught of a young +Israelitish lady who was lost. + +“If you seek me, Laban, I am here,” replied Merapi, speaking from +the shadow of the cloak. + +“What do you there alone with an Egyptian, Merapi?” he said +fiercely. + +What followed I do not know for they spoke so quickly in their +unfamiliar tongue that I could not understand them. At length Merapi +turned to the Prince, saying: + +“Lord, this is Laban my affianced, who commands me to descend from the +chariot and accompany him as best I can.” + +“And I, Lady, command you to stay in it. Laban your affianced can +accompany us.” + +Now at this Laban grew angry, as I could see he was prone to do, and +stretched out his hand as though to push Seti aside and seize Merapi. + +“Have a care, man,’ said the Prince, while I, throwing down the +straw, drew my sword and sprang between them, crying: + +“Slave, would you lay hands upon the Prince of Egypt?” + +“Prince of Egypt!” he said, drawing back astonished, then added +sullenly, “Well what does the Prince of Egypt with my affianced?” + +“He helps her who is hurt to her home, having found her helpless in +the desert with this accursed straw,” I answered. + +“Forward, driver,” said the Prince, and Merapi added, “Peace, +Laban, and bear the straw which his Highness’s companion has carried +such a weary way.” + +He hesitated a moment, then snatched up the bundle and set it on his +head. + +As we walked side by side, his evil temper seemed to get the better of +him. Without ceasing, he grumbled because Merapi was alone in the +chariot with an Egyptian. At length I could bear it no longer. + +“Be silent, fellow,” I said. “Least of all men should you +complain of what his Highness does, seeing that already he has avenged +the killing of this lady’s father, and now has saved her from lying +out all night among the wild beasts and men of the wilderness.” + +“Of the first I have heard more than enough,” he answered, +“and of the second doubtless I shall hear more than enough also. Ever +since my affianced met this prince, she has looked on me with different +eyes and spoken to me with another voice. Yes, and when I press for +marriage, she says it cannot be for a long while yet, because she is +mourning for her father; her father forsooth, whom she never forgave +because he betrothed her to me according to the custom of our +people.” + +“Perhaps she loves some other man?” I queried, wishing to learn all +I could about this lady. + +“She loves no man, or did not a while ago. She loves herself alone.” + +“One with so much beauty may look high in marriage.” + +“High!” he replied furiously. “How can she look higher than +myself who am a lord of the line of Judah, and therefore greater far +than an upstart prince or any other Egyptian, were he Pharaoh +himself?” + +“Surely you must be trumpeter to your tribe,” I mocked, for my +temper was rising. + +“Why?” he asked. “Are not the Hebrews greater than the +Egyptians, as those oppressors soon shall learn, and is not a lord of +Israel more than any idol-worshipper among your people?” + +I looked at the man clad in mean garments and foul from his labour in +the brickfield, marvelling at his insolence. There was no doubt but +that he believed what he said; I could see it in his proud eye and +bearing. He thought that his tribe was of more import in the world than +our great and ancient nation, and that he, an unknown youth, equalled +or surpassed Pharaoh himself. Then, being enraged by these insults, I +answered: + +“You say so, but let us put it to the proof. I am but a scribe, yet I +have seen war. Linger a little that we may learn whether a lord of +Israel is better than a scribe of Egypt.” + +“Gladly would I chastise you, Writer,” he answered, “did I +not see your plot. You wish to delay me here, and perhaps to murder me +by some foul means, while your master basks in the smiles of the Moon +of Israel. Therefore I will not stay, but another time it shall be as +you wish, and perhaps ere long.” + +Now I think that I should have struck him in the face, though I am not +one of those who love brawling. But at this moment there appeared a +company of Egyptian horse led by none other than the Count Amenmeses. +Seeing the Prince in the Chariot, they halted and gave the salute. +Amenmeses leapt to the ground. + +“We are come out to search for your Highness,” he said, +“fearing lest some hurt had befallen you.” + +“I thank you, Cousin,” answered the Prince, “but the hurt has +befallen another, not me.” + +“That is well, your Highness,” said the Count, studying Merapi with +a smile. “Where is the lady wounded? Not in the breast, I trust.” + +“No, Cousin, in the foot, which is why she travels with me in this +chariot.” + +“Your Highness was ever kind to the unfortunate. I pray you let me +take your place, or suffer me to set this girl upon a horse.” + +“Drive on,” said Seti. + +So, escorted by the soldiers, whom I heard making jests to each other +about the Prince and the lady, as I think did the Hebrew Laban also, +for he glared about him and ground his teeth, we came at last to the +town. Here, guided by Merapi, the chariot was halted at the house of +Jabez her uncle, a white-bearded old Hebrew with a cunning eye, who +rushed from the door of his mud-roofed dwelling crying he had done no +harm that soldiers should come to take him. + +“It is not you whom the Egyptians wish to capture, it is your niece +and my betrothed,” shouted Laban, whereat the soldiers laughed, as +did some women who had gathered round. Meanwhile the Prince was helping +Merapi to descend out of the chariot, from which indeed he lifted her. +The sight seemed to madden Laban, who rushed forward to tear her from +his arms, and in the attempt jostled his Highness. The captain of the +soldiers—he was an officer of Pharaoh’s bodyguard—lifted his +sword in a fury and struck Laban such a blow upon the head with the +flat of the blade that he fell upon his face and lay there groaning. + +“Away with that Hebrew dog and scourge him!” cried the captain. +“Is the royal blood of Egypt to be handled by such as he?” + +Soldiers sprang forward to do his bidding, but Seti said quietly: + +“Let the fellow be, friends; he lacks manners, that is all. Is he +hurt?” + +As he spoke Laban leapt to his feet and, fearing worse things, fled away +with a curse and a glare of hate at the Prince. + +“Farewell, Lady,” said Seti. “I wish you a quick +recovery.” + +“I thank your Highness,” she answered, looking about her +confusedly. “Be pleased to wait a little while that I may return to +you your jewel.” + +“Nay, keep it, Lady, and if ever you are in need or trouble of any +sort, send it to me who know it well and you shall not lack succour.” + +She glanced at him and burst into tears. + +“Why do you weep?” he asked. + +“Oh! your Highness, because I fear that trouble is near at hand. My +affianced, Laban, has a revengeful heart. Help me to the house, my +uncle.” + +“Listen, Hebrew,” said Seti, raising his voice; “if aught +that is evil befalls this niece of yours, or if she is forced to walk +whither she would not go, sorrow shall be your portion and that of all +with whom you have to do. Do you hear?” + +“O my Lord, I hear, I hear. Fear nothing. She shall be guarded +carefully as—as she will doubtless guard that trinket on her foot.” + +“Ana,” said the Prince to me that night, when I was talking with +him before he went to rest, “I know not why, but I fear that man +Laban; he has an evil eye.” + +“I too think it would have been better if your Highness had left him +to be dealt with by the soldiers, after which there would have been +nothing to fear from him in this world.” + +“Well, I did not, so there’s an end. Ana, she is a fair woman and a +sweet.” + +“The fairest and the sweetest that ever I saw, my Prince.” + +“Be careful, Ana. I pray you be careful, lest you should fall in love +with one who is already affianced.” + +I only looked at him in answer, and as I looked I bethought me of the +words of Ki the Magician. So, I think, did the Prince; at least he +laughed not unhappily and turned away. + +For my part I rested ill that night, and when at last I slept, it was to +dream of Merapi making her prayer in the rays of the moon. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +THE AMBUSH + + +Eight full days went by before we left the land of Goshen. The story +that the Israelites had to tell was long, sad also. Moreover, they gave +evidence as to many cruel things that they had suffered, and when this +was finished the testimony of the guards and others must be called, all +of which it was necessary to write down. Lastly, the Prince seemed to +be in no hurry to be gone, as he said because he hoped that the two +prophets would return from the wilderness, which they never did. During +all this time Seti saw no more of Merapi, nor indeed did he speak of +her, even when the Count Amenmeses jested him as to his chariot +companion and asked him if he had driven again in the desert by +moonlight. + +I, however, saw her once. When I was wandering in the town one day +towards sunset, I met her walking with her uncle Jabez upon one side +and her lover, Laban, on the other, like a prisoner between two guards. +I thought she looked unhappy, but her foot seemed to be well again; at +least she moved without limping. + +I stopped to salute her, but Laban scowled and hurried her away. Jabez +stayed behind and fell into talk with me. He told me that she was +recovered of her hurt, but that there had been trouble between her and +Laban because of all that happened on that evening when she came by it, +ending in his encounter with the captain. + +“This young man seems to be of a jealous nature,” I said, +“one who will make a harsh husband for any woman.” + +“Yes, learned scribe, jealousy has been his curse from youth as it is +with so many of our people, and I thank God that I am not the woman whom +he is to marry.” + +“Why, then, do you suffer her to marry him, Jabez?” + +“Because her father affianced her to this lion’s whelp when she was +scarce more than a child, and among us that is a bond hard to break. For +my own part,” he added, dropping his voice, and glancing round with +shifting eyes, “I should like to see my niece in some different place +to that of the wife of Laban. With her great beauty and wit, she might +become anything—anything if she had opportunity. But under our laws, +even if Laban died, as might happen to so violent a man, she could wed +no one who is not a Hebrew.” + +“I thought she told us that her mother was a Syrian.” + +“That is so, Scribe Ana. She was a beautiful captive of war whom +Nathan came to love and made his wife, and the daughter takes after +her. Still she is Hebrew and of the Hebrew faith and congregation. Had +it not been so, she might have shone like a star, nay, like the very +moon after which she is named, perhaps in the court of Pharaoh +himself.” + +“As the great queen Taia did, she who changed the religion of Egypt to +the worship of one god in a bygone generation,” I suggested. + +“I have heard of her, Scribe Ana. She was a wondrous woman, beautiful +too by her statues. Would that you Egyptians could find such another to +turn your hearts to a purer faith and to soften them towards us poor +aliens. When does his Highness leave the land of Goshen?” + +“At sunrise on the third day from this.” + +“Provision will be needed for the journey, much provision for so large +a train. I deal in sheep and other foodstuffs, Scribe Ana.” + +“I will mention the matter to his Highness and to the Vizier, +Jabez.” + +“I thank you, Scribe, and will be in waiting at the camp to-morrow +morning. See, Laban returns with Merapi. One word, let his Highness +beware of Laban. He is very revengeful and has not forgotten that +sword-blow on the head.” + +“Let Laban be careful,” I answered. “Had it not been for his +Highness the soldiers would have killed him the other night because he +dared to offer affront to the royal blood. A second time he will not +escape. Moreover, Pharaoh would avenge aught he did upon the people of +Israel.” + +“I understand. It would be sad if Laban were killed, very sad. But the +people of Israel have One who can protect them even against Pharaoh and +all his hosts. Farewell, learned Scribe. If ever I come to Tanis, with +your leave we will talk more together.” + +That night I told the Prince all that had passed. He listened, and said: + +“I grieve for the lady Merapi, for hers is like to be a hard fate. +Yet,” he added laughing, “perhaps it is as well for you, friend, +that you should see no more of her who is sure to bring trouble wherever +she goes. That woman has a face which haunts the mind, as the Ka haunts +the tomb, and for my part I do not wish to look upon it again.” + +“I am glad to hear it, Prince, and for my part, I have done with +women, however sweet. I will tell this Jabez that the provisions for +the journey will be bought elsewhere.” + +“Nay, buy them from him, and if Nehesi grumbles at the price, pay it +on my account. The way to a Hebrew’s heart is through his treasure +bags. If Jabez is well treated, it may make him kinder to his niece, of +whom I shall always have a pleasant memory, for which I am grateful +among this sour folk who hate us, and with reason.” + +So the sheep and all the foodstuffs for the journey were bought from +Jabez at his own price, for which he thanked me much, and on the third +day we started. At the last moment the Prince, whose mood seemed to be +perverse that evening, refused to travel with the host upon the morrow +because of the noise and dust. In vain did the Count Amenmeses reason +with him, and Nehesi and the great officers implore him almost on their +knees, saying that they must answer for his safety to Pharaoh and the +Princess Userti. He bade them begone, replying that he would join them +at their camp on the following night. I also prayed him to listen, but +he told me sharply that what he said he had said, and that he and I +would journey in his chariot alone, with two armed runners and no more, +adding that if I thought there was danger I could go forward with the +troops. Then I bit my lip and was silent, whereon, seeing that he had +hurt me, he turned and craved my pardon humbly enough as his kind heart +taught him to do. + +“I can bear no more of Amenmeses and those officers,” he said, +“and I love to be in the desert alone. Last time we journeyed there we +met with adventures that were pleasant, Ana, and at Tanis doubtless I +shall find others that are not pleasant. Admit that Hebrew priest who +is waiting to instruct me in the mysteries of his faith which I desire +to understand.” + +So I bowed and left him to make report that I had failed to shake his +will. Taking the risk of his wrath, however, I did this—for had I not +sworn to the Princess that I would protect him? In place of the runners +I chose two of the best and bravest soldiers to play their part. +Moreover, I instructed that captain who smote down Laban to hide away +with a score of picked men and enough chariots to carry them, and to +follow after the Prince, keeping just out of sight. + +So on the morrow the troops, nobles, and officers went on at daybreak, +together with the baggage carriers; nor did we follow them till many +hours had gone by. Some of this time the Prince spent in driving about +the town, taking note of the condition of the people. These, as I saw, +looked on us sullenly enough, more so than before, I thought, perhaps +because we were unguarded. Indeed, turning round I caught sight of a +man shaking his fist and of an old hag spitting after us, and wished +that we were out of the land of Goshen. But when I reported it to the +Prince he only laughed and took no heed. + +“All can see that they hate us Egyptians,” he said. “Well, +let it be our task to try to turn their hate to love.” + +“That you will never do, Prince, it is too deep-rooted in their +hearts; for generations they have drunk it in with their mother’s +milk. Moreover, this is a war of the gods of Egypt and of Israel, and +men must go where their gods drive them.” + +“Do you think so, Ana? Then are men nothing but dust blown by the +winds of heaven, blown from the darkness that is before the dawn to be +gathered at last and for ever into the darkness of the grave of +night?” + +He brooded a while, then went on. + +“Yet if I were Pharaoh I would let these people go, for without doubt +their god has much power and I tell you that I fear them.” + +“Why will he not let them go?” I asked. “They are a weakness, +not a strength to Egypt, as was shown at the time of the invasion of the +Barbarians with whom they sided. Moreover, the value of this rich land +of theirs, which they cannot take with them, is greater than that of +all their labour.” + +“I do not know, friend. The matter is one upon which my father keeps +his own counsel, even from the Princess Userti. Perhaps it is because +he will not change the policy of his father, Rameses; perhaps because +he is stiff-necked to those who cross his will. Or it may be that he is +held in this path by a madness sent of some god to bring loss and shame +on Egypt.” + +“Then, Prince, all the priests and nobles are mad also, from Count +Amenmeses down.” + +“Where Pharaoh leads priests and nobles follow. The question is, who +leads Pharaoh? Here is the temple of these Hebrews; let us enter.” + +So we descended from the chariot, where, for my part, I would have +remained, and walked through the gateway in the surrounding mud wall +into the outer court of the temple, which on this the holy seventh day +of the Hebrews was full of praying women, who feigned not to see us yet +watched us out of the corners of their eyes. Passing through them we +came to a doorway, by which we entered another court that was roofed +over. Here were many men who murmured as we appeared. They were engaged +in listening to a preacher in a white robe, who wore a strange shaped +cap and some ornaments on his breast. I knew the man; he was the priest +Kohath who had instructed the Prince in so much of the mysteries of the +Hebrew faith as he chose to reveal. On seeing us he ceased suddenly in +his discourse, uttered some hasty blessing and advanced to greet us. + +I waited behind the Prince, thinking it well to watch his back among all +those fierce men, and did not hear what the priest said to him, as he +whispered in that holy place. Kohath led him forward, to free him from +the throng, I thought, till they came to the head of the little temple +that was marked by some steps, above which hung a thick and heavy +curtain. The Prince, walking on, did not see the lowest of these steps +in the gloom, which was deep. His foot caught on it; he fell forward, +and to save himself grasped at the curtain where the two halves of it +met, and dragged it open, revealing a chamber plain and small beyond, +in which was an altar. That was all I had time to see, for next instant +a roar of rage rent the air and knives flashed in the gloom. + +“The Egyptian defiles the tabernacle!” shouted one. “Drag him +out and kill him!” screamed another. + +“Friends,” said Seti, turning as they surged towards him, “if +I have done aught wrong it was by chance——” + +He could add no more, seeing that they were on him, or rather on me who +had leapt in front of him. Already they had grasped my robes and my +hand was on my sword-hilt, when the priest Kohath cried out: + +“Men of Israel, are you mad? Would you bring Pharaoh’s vengeance on +us?” + +They halted a little and their spokesman shouted: + +“We defy Pharaoh! Our God will protect us from Pharaoh. Drag him forth +and kill him beyond the wall!” + +Again they began to move, when a man, in whom I recognized Jabez, the +uncle of Merapi, called aloud: + +“Cease! If this Prince of Egypt has done insult to Jahveh by will and +not by chance, it is certain that he will avenge himself upon him. +Shall men take the judgment of God into their own hands? Stand back and +wait awhile. If Jahveh is affronted, the Egyptian will fall dead. If he +does not fall dead, let him pass hence unharmed, for such is Jahveh’s +will. Stand back, I say, while I count threescore.” + +They withdrew a space and slowly Jabez began to count. + +Although at that time I knew nothing of the power of the god of Israel, +I will say that I was filled with fear as one by one he counted, +pausing at each ten. The scene was very strange. There by the steps +stood the Prince against the background of the curtain, his arms folded +and a little smile of wonder mixed with contempt upon his face, but not +a sign of fear. On one side of him was I, who knew well that I should +share his fate whatever it might be, and indeed desired no other; and +on the other the priest Kohath, whose hands shook and whose eyes +started from his head. In front of us old Jabez counted, watching the +fierce-faced congregation that in a dead silence waited for the issue. +The count went on. Thirty. Forty. Fifty—oh! it seemed an age. + +At length sixty fell from his lips. He waited a while and all watched +the Prince, not doubting but that he would fall dead. But instead he +turned to Kohath and asked quietly if this ordeal was now finished, as +he desired to make an offering to the temple, which he had been invited +to visit, and begone. + +“Our God has given his answer,” said Jabez. “Accept it, men +of Israel. What this Prince did he did by chance, not of design.” + +They turned and went without a word, and after I had laid the offering, +no mean one, in the appointed place, we followed them. + +“It would seem that yours is no gentle god,” said the Prince to +Kohath, when at length we were outside the temple. + +“At least he is just, your Highness. Had it been otherwise, you who +had violated his sanctuary, although by chance, would ere now be +dead.” + +“Then you hold, Priest, that Jahveh has power to slay us when he is +angry?” + +“Without a doubt, your Highness—as, if our Prophets speak truth, I +think that Egypt will learn ere all be done,” he added grimly. + +Seti looked at him and answered: + +“It may be so, but all gods, or their priests, claim the power to +torment and slay those who worship other gods. It is not only women who +are jealous, Kohath, or so it seems. Yet I think that you do your god +injustice, seeing that even if this strength is his, he proved more +merciful than his worshippers who knew well that I only grasped the +veil to save myself from falling. If ever I visit your temple again it +shall be in the company of those who can match might against might, +whether of the spirit or the sword. Farewell.” + +So we reached the chariot, near to which stood Jabez, he who had saved +us. + +“Prince,” he whispered, glancing at the crowd who lingered not far +away, silent and glowering, “I pray you leave this land swiftly for +here your life is not safe. I know it was by chance, but you have +defiled the sanctuary and seen that upon which eyes may not look save +those of the highest priests, an offence no Israelite can forgive.” + +“And you, or your people, Jabez, would have defiled this sanctuary of +my life, spilling my heart’s blood and _not_ by chance. Surely you +are a strange folk who seek to make an enemy of one who has tried to be +your friend.” + +“I do not seek it,” exclaimed Jabez. “I would that we might +have Pharaoh’s mouth and ear who soon will himself be Pharaoh upon our +side. O Prince of Egypt, be not wroth with all the children of Israel +because their wrongs have made some few of them stubborn and +hard-hearted. Begone now, and of your goodness remember my words.” + +“I will remember,” said Seti, signing to the charioteer to drive on. + +Yet still the Prince lingered in the town, saying that he feared nothing +and would learn all he could of this people and their ways that he +might report the better of them to Pharaoh. For my part I believed that +there was one face which he wished to see again before he left, but of +this I thought it wise to say nothing. + +At length about midday we did depart, and drove eastwards on the track +of Amenmeses and our company. All the afternoon we drove thus, preceded +by the two soldiers disguised as runners and followed, as a distant +cloud of dust told me, by the captain and his chariots, whom I had +secretly commanded to keep us in sight. + +Towards evening we came to the pass in the stony hills which bounded the +land of Goshen. Here Seti descended from the chariot, and we climbed, +accompanied by the two soldiers whom I signed to follow us, to the +crest of one of these hills that was strewn with huge boulders and +lined with ridges of sandstone, between which gullies had been cut by +the winds of thousands of years. + +Leaning against one of these ridges we looked back upon a wondrous +sight. Far away across the fertile plain appeared the town that we had +left, and behind it the sun sank. It would seem as though some storm +had broken there, although the firmament above us was clear and blue. +At least in front of the town two huge pillars of cloud stretched from +earth to heaven like the columns of some mighty gateway. One of these +pillars was as though it were made of black marble, and the other like +to molten gold. Between them ran a road of light ending in a glory, and +in the midst of the glory the round ball of Ra, the Sun, burned like +the eye of God. The spectacle was as awesome as it was splendid. + +“Have you ever seen such a sky in Egypt, Prince?” I asked. + +“Never,” he answered, and although he spoke low, in that great +stillness his voice sounded loud to me. + +For a while longer we watched, till suddenly the sun sank, and only the +glory about it and above remained, which took shapes like to the +palaces and temples of a city in the heavens, a far city that no mortal +could reach except in dreams. + +“I know not why, Ana,” said Seti, “but for the first time +since I was a man I feel afraid. It seems to me that there are omens in +the sky and I cannot read them. Would that Ki were here to tell us what +is signified by the pillar of blackness to the right and the pillar of +fire to the left, and what god has his home in the city of glory +behind, and how man’s feet may walk along the shining road which +leads to its pylon gates. I tell you that I am afraid; it is as though +Death were very near to me and all his wonders open to my mortal +sight.” + +“I too am afraid,” I whispered. “Look! The pillars move. That +of fire goes before; that of black cloud follows after, and between them +I seem to see a countless multitude marching in unending companies. See +how the light glitters on their spears! Surely the god of the Hebrews +is afoot.” + +“He, or some other god, or no god at all, who knows? Come, Ana, let us +be going if we would reach that camp ere dark.” + +So we descended from the ridge, and re-entering the chariot, drove on +towards the neck of the pass. Now this neck was very narrow, not more +than four paces wide for a certain distance, and, on either side of the +roadway were tumbled sandstone boulders, between which grew desert +plants, and gullies that had been cut by storm-water, while beyond +these rose the sides of the mountain. Here the horses went at a walk +towards a turn in the path, at which point the land began to fall +again. + +When we were about half a spear’s throw from this turn of a sudden I +heard a sound and, glancing to the right, perceived a woman leaping down +the hillside towards us. The charioteer saw also and halted the horses, +and the two runner guards turned and drew their swords. In less than +half a minute the woman had reached us, coming out of the shadow so +that the light fell upon her face. + +“Merapi!” exclaimed the Prince and I, speaking as though with one +breath. + +Merapi it was indeed, but in evil case. Her long hair had broken loose +and fell about her, the cloak she wore was torn, and there were blood +and foam upon her lips. She stood gasping, since speak she could not +for breathlessness, supporting herself with one hand upon the side of +the chariot and with the other pointing to the bend in the road. At +last a word came, one only. It was: + +“Murder!” + +“She means that she is going to be murdered,” said the Prince to me. + +“No,” she panted, “you—you! The Hebrews. Go back!” + +“Turn the horses!” I cried to the charioteer. + +He began to obey helped by the two guards, but because of the narrowness +of the road and the steepness of the banks this was not easy. Indeed +they were but half round in such fashion that they blocked the pathway +from side to side, when a wild yell of ‘Jahveh’ broke upon our +ears, and from round the bend, a few paces away, rushed a horde of +fierce, hook-nosed men, brandishing knives and swords. Scarcely was +there time for us to leap behind the shelter of the chariot and make +ready, when they were on us. + +“Hearken,” I said to the charioteer as they came, “run as you +never ran before, and bring up the guard behind!” + +He sprang away like an arrow. + +“Get back, Lady,” cried Seti. “This is no woman’s work, +and see here comes Laban to seek you,” and he pointed with his sword +at the leader of the murderers. + +She obeyed, staggering a few paces to a stone at the roadside, behind +which she crouched. Afterwards she told me that she had no strength to +go further, and indeed no will, since if we were killed, it were better +that she who had warned us should be killed also. + +Now they had reached us, the whole flood of them, thirty or forty men. +The first who came stabbed the frightened horses, and down they went +against the bank, struggling. On the chariot leapt the Hebrews, seeking +to come at us, and we met them as best we might, tearing off our cloaks +and throwing them over our left arms to serve as shields. + +Oh! what a fight was that. In the open, or had we not been prepared, we +must have been slain at once, but, as it was, the place and the barrier +of the chariot gave us some advantage. So narrow was the roadway, the +walls of which were here too steep to climb, that not more than four of +the Hebrews could strike at us at once, which four must first surmount +the chariot or the still living horses. + +But we also were four, and thanks to Userti, two of us were clad in mail +beneath our robes—four strong men fighting for their lives. Against us +came four of the Hebrews. One leapt from the chariot straight at Seti, +who received him upon the point of his iron sword, whereof I heard the +hilt ring against his breast-bone, that same famous iron sword which +to-day lies buried with him in his grave. + +Down he came dead, throwing the Prince to the ground by the weight of +his body. The Hebrew who attacked me caught his foot on the chariot +pole and fell forward, so I killed him easily with a blow upon the +head, which gave me time to drag the Prince to his feet again before +another followed. The two guards also, sturdy fighters both of them, +killed or mortally wounded their men. But others were pressing behind +so thick and fast that I could keep no count of all that happened +afterwards. + +Presently I saw one of the guards fall, slain by Laban. A stab on the +breast sent me reeling backwards; had it not been for that mail I was +sped. The other guard killed him who would have killed me, and then +himself was killed by two who came on him at once. + +Now only the Prince and I were left, fighting back to back. He closed +with one man, a very great fellow, and wounded him on the hand, so that +he dropped his sword. This man gripped him round the middle and they +rolled together on the ground. Laban appeared and stabbed the Prince in +the back, but the curved knife he was using snapped on the Syrian mail. +I struck at Laban and wounded him on the head, dazing him so that he +staggered back and seemed to fall over the chariot. Then others rushed +at me, and but for Userti’s armour three times at least I must have +died. Fighting madly, I staggered against the rock, and whilst waiting +for a new onset, saw that Seti, hurt by Laban’s thrust, was now +beneath the great Hebrew who had him by the throat, and was choking the +life out of him. + +I saw something else also—a woman holding a sword with both hands and +stabbing downward, after which the grip of the Hebrew loosened from +Seti’s throat. + +“Traitress!” cried one, and struck at her, so that she reeled back +hurt. Then when all seemed finished, and beneath the rain of blows my +senses were failing, I heard the thunder of horses’ hoofs and the +shout of “_Egypt! Egypt!_” from the throats of soldiers. The flash +of bronze caught my dazed eyes, and with the roar of battle in my ears +I seemed to fall asleep just as the light of day departed. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +SETI COUNSELS PHARAOH + + +Dream upon dream. Dreams of voices, dreams of faces, dreams of sunlight +and of moonlight and of myself being borne forward, always forward; +dreams of shouting crowds, and, above all, dreams of Merapi’s eyes +looking down on me like two watching stars from heaven. Then at last +the awakening, and with it throbs of pain and qualms of sickness. + +At first I thought that I was dead and lying in a tomb. Then by degrees +I saw that I was in no tomb but in a darkened room that was familiar to +me, my own room in Seti’s palace at Tanis. It must be so, for there, +near to the bed on which I lay, was my own chest filled with the +manuscripts that I had brought from Memphis. I tried to lift my left +hand, but could not, and looking down saw that the arm was bandaged +like to that of a mummy, which made me think again that I must be dead, +if the dead could suffer so much pain. I closed my eyes and thought or +slept a while. + +As I lay thus I heard voices. One of them seemed to be that of a +physician, who said, “Yes, he will live and ere long recover. The +blow upon the head which has made him senseless for so many days was +the worst of his wounds, but the bone was but bruised, not shattered or +driven in upon the brain. The flesh cuts on his arms are healing well, +and the mail he wore protected his vitals from being pierced.” + +“I am glad, physician,” answered a voice that I knew to be that of +Userti, “since without a doubt, had it not been for Ana, his Highness +would have perished. It is strange that one whom I thought to be nothing +but a dreaming scribe should have shown himself so brave a warrior. The +Prince says that this Ana killed three of those dogs with his own +hands, and wounded others.” + +“It was well done, your Highness,” answered the physician, +“but still better was his forethought in providing a rear-guard and in +despatching the charioteer to call it up. It seems to have been the +Hebrew lady who really saved the life of his Highness, when, forgetting +her sex, she stabbed the murderer who had him by the throat.” + +“That is the Prince’s tale, or so I understand,” she answered +coldly. “Yet it seems strange that a weak and worn-out girl could have +pierced a giant through from back to breast.” + +“At least she warned him of the ambush, your Highness.” + +“So they say. Perhaps Ana here will soon tell us the truth about these +matters. Tend him well, physician, and you shall not lack for your +reward.” + +Then they went away, still talking, and I lay quiet, filled with +thankfulness and wonder, for now everything came back to me. + +A while later, as I lay with my eyes still shut, for even that low light +seemed to hurt them, I became aware of a woman’s soft step stealing +round my bed and of a fragrance such as comes from a woman’s robes +and hair. I looked and saw Merapi’s star-like eyes gazing down on me +just as I had seen them in my dreams. + +“Greeting, Moon of Israel,” I said. “Of a truth we meet again +in strange case.” + +“Oh!” she whispered, “are you awake at last? I thank God, +Scribe Ana, who for three days thought that you must die.” + +“As, had it not been for you, Lady, surely I should have done—I and +another. Now it seems that all three of us will live.” + +“Would that but two lived, the Prince and you, Ana. Would that _I_ +had died,” she answered, sighing heavily. + +“Why?” + +“Cannot you guess? Because I am an outcast who has betrayed my people. +Because their blood flows between me and them. For I killed that man, +and he was my own kinsman, for the sake of an Egyptian—I mean, +Egyptians. Therefore the curse of Jahveh is on me, and as my kinsman +died doubtless I shall die in a day to come, and afterwards—what?” + +“Afterwards peace and great reward, if there be justice in earth or +heaven, O most noble among women.” + +“Would that I could think so! Hush, I hear steps. Drink this; I am the +chief of your nurses, Scribe Ana, an honourable post, since to-day all +Egypt loves and praises you.” + +“Surely it is you, lady Merapi, whom all Egypt should love and +praise,” I answered. + +Then the Prince Seti entered. I strove to salute him by lifting my less +injured arm, but he caught my hand and pressed it tenderly. + +“Hail to you, beloved of Menthu, god of war,” he said, with his +pleasant laugh. “I thought I had hired a scribe, and lo! in this +scribe I find a soldier who might be an army’s boast.” + +At this moment he caught sight of Merapi, who had moved back into the +shadow. + +“Hail to you also, Moon of Israel,” he said bowing. “If I +name Ana here a warrior of the best, what name can both of us find for +you to whom we owe our lives? Nay, look not down, but answer.” + +“Prince of Egypt,” she replied confusedly, “I did but little. +The plot came to my ears through Jabez my uncle, and I fled away and, +knowing the short paths from childhood, was just in time. Had I stayed +to think perchance I should not have dared.” + +“And what of the rest, Lady? What of the Hebrew who was choking me and +of a certain sword thrust that loosed his hands for ever?” + +“Of that, your Highness, I can recall nothing, or very little,” +then, doubtless remembering what she had just said to me, she made +obeisance and passed from the chamber. + +“She can tell falsehoods as sweetly as she does all else,” said +Seti, when he had watched her go. “Oh! what a woman have we here, Ana. +Perfect in beauty, perfect in courage, perfect in mind. Where are her +faults, I wonder? Let it be your part to search them out, since I find +none.” + +“Ask them of Ki, O Prince. He is a very great magician, so great that +perhaps his art may even avail to discover what a woman seeks to hide. +Also you may remember that he gave you certain warnings before we +journeyed to Goshen.” + +“Yes—he told me that my life would be in danger, as certainly it +was. There he was right. He told me also that I should see a woman whom +I should come to love. There he was wrong. I have seen no such woman. +Oh! I know well what is passing in your mind. Because I hold the lady +Merapi to be beautiful and brave, you think that I love her. But it is +not so. I love no woman, except, of course, her Highness. Ana, you +judge me by yourself.” + +“Ki said ‘come to love,’ Prince. There is yet time.” + +“Not so, Ana. If one loves, one loves at once. Soon I shall be old and +she will be fat and ugly, and how can one love then? Get well quickly, +Ana, for I wish you to help me with my report to Pharaoh. I shall tell +him that I think these Israelites are much oppressed and that he should +make them amends and let them go.” + +“What will Pharaoh say to that after they have just tried to kill his +heir?” + +“I think Pharaoh will be angry, and so will the people of Egypt, who +do not reason well. He will not see that, believing what they do, Laban +and his band were right to try to kill me who, however unwittingly, +desecrated the sanctuary of their god. Had they done otherwise they +would have been no good Hebrews, and for my part I cannot bear them +malice. Yet all Egypt is afire about this business and cries out that +the Israelites should be destroyed.” + +“It seems to me, Prince, that whatever may be the case with Ki’s +second prophecy, his third is in the way of fulfilment—namely that +this journey to Goshen may cause you to risk your throne.” + +He shrugged his shoulders and answered: + +“Not even for that, Ana, will I say to Pharaoh what is not in my mind. +But let that matter be till you are stronger.” + +“What chanced at the end of the fight, Prince, and how came I here?” + +“The guard killed most of the Hebrews who remained alive. Some few +fled and escaped in the darkness, among them Laban their leader, +although you had wounded him, and six were taken alive. They await +their trial. I was but little hurt and you, whom we thought dead, were +but senseless, and senseless or wandering you have remained till this +hour. We carried you in a litter, and here you have been these three +days.” + +“And the lady Merapi?” + +“We set her in a chariot and brought her to the city, since had we +left her she would certainly have been murdered by her people. When +Pharaoh heard what she had done, as I did not think it well that she +should dwell here, he gave her the small house in this garden that she +might be guarded, and with it slave women to attend upon her. So there +she dwells, having the freedom of the palace, and all the while has +filled the office of your nurse.” + +At this moment I grew faint and shut my eyes. When I opened them again, +the Prince had gone. Six more days went by before I was allowed to +leave my bed, and during this time I saw much of Merapi. She was very +sad and lived in fear of being killed by the Hebrews. Also she was +troubled in her heart because she thought she had betrayed her faith +and people. + +“At least you are rid of Laban,” I said. + +“Never shall I be rid of him while we both live,” she answered. +“I belong to him and he will not loose my bond, because his heart is +set on me.” + +“And is your heart set on him?” I asked. + +Her beautiful eyes filled with tears. + +“A woman may not have a heart. Oh! Ana, I am unhappy,” she +answered, and went away. + +Also I saw others. The Princess came to visit me. She thanked me much +because I had fulfilled my promise to her and guarded the Prince. +Moreover she brought me a gift of gold from Pharaoh, and other gifts of +fine raiment from herself. She questioned me closely about Merapi, of +whom I could see she was already jealous, and was glad when she learned +that she was affianced to a Hebrew. Old Bakenkhonsu came too, and asked +me many things about the Prince, the Hebrews and Merapi, especially +Merapi, of whose deeds, he said, all Egypt was talking, questions that +I answered as best I could. + +“Here we have that woman of whom Ki told us,” he said, “she +who shall bring so much joy and so much sorrow to the Prince of +Egypt.” + +“Why so?” I asked. “He has not taken her into his house, nor +do I think that he means to do so.” + +“Yet he will, Ana, whether he means it or not. For his sake she +betrayed her people, which among the Israelites is a deadly crime. +Twice she saved his life, once by warning him of the ambush, and again +by stabbing with her own hands one of her kinsmen who was murdering +him. Is it not so? Tell me; you were there.” + +“It is so, but what then?” + +“This: that whatever she may say, she loves him; unless indeed, it is +you whom she loves,” and he looked at me shrewdly. + +“When a woman has a prince, and such a prince to her hand, would she +trouble herself to set snares to catch a scribe?” I asked, with some +bitterness. + +“Oho!” he said, with one of his great laughs, “so things +stand thus, do they? Well, I thought it, but, friend Ana, be warned in +time. Do not try to conjure down the Moon to be your household lamp +lest she should set, and the Sun, her lord, should grow wroth and burn +you up. Well, she loves him, and therefore soon or late she will make +him love her, being what she is.” + +“How, Bakenkhonsu?” + +“With most men, Ana, it would be simple. A sigh, some half-hidden +tears at the right moment, and the thing is done, as I have known it +done a thousand times. But this prince being what he is, it may be +otherwise. She may show him that her name is gone for him; that because +of him she is hated by her people, and rejected by her god, and thus +stir his pity, which is Love’s own sister. Or mayhap, being also, as +I am told, wise, she will give him counsel as to all these matters of +the Israelites, and thus creep into his heart under the guise of +friendship, and then her sweetness and her beauty will do the rest in +Nature’s way. At least by this road or by that, upstream or +downstream, thither she will come.” + +“If so, what of it? It is the custom of the kings of Egypt to have +more wives than one.” + +“This, Ana; Seti, I think, is a man who in truth will have but one, +and that one will be this Hebrew. Yes, a Hebrew woman will rule Egypt, +and turn him to the worship of her god, for never will she worship +ours. Indeed, when they see that she is lost to them, her people will +use her thus. Or perchance her god himself will use her to fulfil his +purpose, as already he may have used her.” + +“And afterwards, Bakenkhonsu?” + +“Afterwards—who knows? I am not a magician, at least not one of any +account, ask it of Ki. But I am very, very old and I have watched the +world, and I tell you that these things will happen, unless——” +and he paused. + +“Unless what?” + +He dropped his voice. + +“Unless Userti is bolder than I think, and kills her first or, better +still, procures some Hebrew to kill her—say, that cast-off lover of +hers. If you would be a friend to Pharaoh and to Egypt, you might +whisper it in her ear, Ana.” + +“Never!” I answered angrily. + +“I did not think you would, Ana, who also struggle in this net of +moonbeams that is stronger and more real than any twisted out of palm or +flax. Well, nor will I, who in my age love to watch such human sport +and, being so near to them, fear to thwart the schemes of gods. Let +this scroll unroll itself as it will, and when it is open, read it, +Ana, and remember what I said to you this day. It will be a pretty +tale, written at the end with blood for ink. Oho! O-ho-ho!” and, +laughing, he hobbled from the room, leaving me frightened. + +Moreover the Prince visited me every day, and even before I left my bed +began to dictate to me his report to Pharaoh, since he would employ no +other scribe. The substance of it was what he had foreshadowed, namely +that the people of Israel, having suffered much for generations at the +hands of the Egyptians, should now be allowed to depart as their +prophets demanded, and go whither they would unharmed. Of the attack +upon us in the pass he made light, saying it was the evil work of a few +zealots wrought on by fancied insult to their god, a deed for which the +whole people should not be called upon to suffer. The last words of the +report were: + +“Remember, O Pharaoh, I pray thee, that Amon, god of the Egyptians, +and Jahveh, the god of the Israelites, cannot rule together in the same +land. If both abide in Egypt there will be a war of the gods wherein +mortals may be ground to dust. Therefore, I pray thee, let Israel +go.” + +After I had risen and was recovered, I copied out this report in my +fairest writing, refusing to tell any of its purport, although all +asked, among them the Vizier Nehesi, who offered me a bribe to disclose +its secret. This came to the ears of Seti, I know not how, and he was +much pleased with me about the matter, saying he rejoiced to find that +there was one scribe in Egypt who could not be bought. Userti also +questioned me, and when I refused to answer, strange to say, was not +angry, because, she declared, I only did my duty. + +At last the roll was finished and sealed, and the Prince with his own +hand, but without speaking, laid it on the knees of Pharaoh at a public +Court, for this he would trust no one else to do. Amenmeses also +brought up his report, as did Nehesi the Vizier, and the Captain of the +guard which saved us from death. Eight days later the Prince was +summoned to a great Council of State, as were all others of the royal +House, together with the high officers. I too received a summons, as +one who had been concerned in these matters. + +The Prince, accompanied by the Princess, drove to the palace in +Pharaoh’s golden chariot, drawn by two milk-white horses of the blood +of those famous steeds that had saved the life of the great Rameses in +the Syrian war. All down the streets, that were filled with thousands +of the people, they were received with shouts of welcome. + +“See,” said the old councillor Bakenkhonsu, who was my companion in +a second chariot, “Egypt is proud and glad. It thought that its Prince +was but a dreamer of dreams. But now it has heard the tale of the ambush +in the pass and learned that he is a man of war, a warrior who can +fight with the best. Therefore it loves him and rejoices.” + +“Then, by the same rule, Bakenkhonsu, a butcher should be more great +than the wisest of scribes.” + +“So he is, Ana, especially if the butcher be one of men. The writer +creates, but the slayer kills, and in a world ruled of death he who +kills has more honour than he who creates. Hearken, now they are +shouting out your name. Is that because you are the author of certain +writings? I tell you, No. It is because you killed three men yonder in +the pass. If you would become famous and beloved, Ana, cease from the +writing of books and take to the cutting of throats.” + +“Yet the writer still lives when he is dead.” + +“Oho!” laughed Bakenkhonsu, “you are even more foolish than I +thought. How is a man advantaged by what happens when he is dead? Why, +to-day that blind beggar whining on the temple steps means more to +Egypt than all the mummies of all the Pharaohs, unless they can be +robbed. Take what life can give you, Ana, and do not trouble about the +offerings which are laid in the tombs for time to crumble.” + +“That is a mean faith, Bakenkhonsu.” + +“Very mean, Ana, like all else that we can taste and handle. A mean +faith suited to mean hearts, among whom should be reckoned all save one +in every thousand. Yet, if you would prosper, follow it, and when you +are dead I will come and laugh upon your grave, and say, ‘Here lies +one of whom I had hoped higher things, as I hope them of your +master.’” + +“And not in vain, Bakenkhonsu, whatever may happen to the servant.” + +“That we shall learn, and ere long, I think. I wonder who will ride at +his side before the next Nile flood. By then, perchance, he will have +changed Pharaoh’s golden chariot for an ox-cart, and you will goad +the oxen and talk to him of the stars—or, mayhap of the moon. Well, +you might both be happier thus, and she of the moon is a jealous +goddess who loves worship. Oho-ho! Here are the palace steps. Help me +to descend, Priest of the Lady of the Moon.” + +We entered the palace and were led through the great hall to a smaller +chamber where Pharaoh, who did not wear his robes of state, awaited us, +seated in a cedar chair. Glancing at him I saw that his face was stern +and troubled; also it seemed to me that he had grown older. The Prince +and Princess made obeisance to him, as did we lesser folk, but he took +no heed. When all were present and the doors had been shut, Pharaoh +said: + +“I have read your report, Son Seti, concerning your visit to the +Israelites, and all that chanced to you; and also the reports of you, +nephew Amenmeses, and of you, Officers, who accompanied the Prince of +Egypt. Before I speak of them, let the Scribe Ana, who was the chariot +companion of his Highness when the Hebrews attacked him, stand forward +and tell me all that passed.” + +So I advanced, and with bowed head repeated that tale, only leaving out +so far as was possible any mention of myself. When I had finished, +Pharaoh said: + +“He who speaks but half the truth is sometimes more mischievous than a +liar. Did you then sit in the chariot, Scribe, doing nothing while the +Prince battled for his life? Or did you run away? Speak, Seti, and say +what part this man played for good or ill.” + +Then the Prince told of my share in the fight, with words that brought +the blood to my brow. He told also how that it was I who, taking the +risk of his wrath, had ordered the guard of twenty men to follow us +unseen, had disguised two seasoned soldiers as chariot runners, and had +thought to send back the driver to summon help at the commencement of +the fray; how I had been hurt also, and was but lately recovered. When +he had finished, Pharaoh said: + +“That this story is true I know from others. Scribe, you have done +well. But for you to-day his Highness would lie upon the table of the +embalmers, as indeed for his folly he deserves to do, and Egypt would +mourn from Thebes to the mouths of Nile. Come hither.” + +I came with trembling steps, and knelt before his Majesty. Around his +neck hung a beauteous chain of wrought gold. He took it, and cast it +over my head, saying: + +“Because you have shown yourself both brave and wise, with this gold I +give you the title of Councillor and King’s Companion, and the right +to inscribe the same upon your funeral stele. Let it be noted. Retire, +Scribe Ana, Councillor and King’s Companion.” + +So I withdrew confused, and as I passed Seti, he whispered in my ear: + +“I pray you, my lord, do not cease to be Prince’s Companion, +because you have become that of the King.” + +Then Pharaoh ordered that the Captain of the guard should be advanced in +rank, and that gifts should be given to each of the soldiers, and +provision be made for the children of those who had been killed, with +double allowance to the families of the two men whom I had disguised as +runners. + +This done, once more Pharaoh spoke, slowly and with much meaning, having +first ordered that all attendants and guards should leave the chamber. +I was about to go also, but old Bakenkhonsu caught me by the robe, +saying that in my new rank of Councillor I had the right to remain. + +“Prince Seti,” he said, “after all that I have heard, I find +this report of yours strange reading. Moreover, the tenor of it is +different indeed to that of those of the Count Amenmeses and the +officers. You counsel me to let these Israelites go where they will, +because of certain hardships that they have suffered in the past, which +hardships, however, have left them many and rich. That counsel I am not +minded to take. Rather am I minded to send an army to the land of +Goshen with orders to despatch this people, who conspired to murder the +Prince of Egypt, through the Gateway of the West, there to worship +their god in heaven or in hell. Aye, to slay them all from the +greybeard down to the suckling at the breast.” + +“I hear Pharaoh,” said Seti, quietly. + +“Such is my will,” went on Meneptah, “and those who +accompanied you upon your business, and all my councillors think as I +do, for truly Egypt cannot bear so hideous a treason. Yet, according to +our law and custom it is needful, before such great acts of war and +policy are undertaken, that he who stands next to the throne, and is +destined to fill it, should give consent thereto. Do you consent, +Prince of Egypt?” + +“I do not consent, Pharaoh. I think it would be a wicked deed that +tens of thousands should be massacred for the reason that a few fools +waylaid a man who chanced to be of royal blood, because by +inadvertence, he had desecrated their sanctuary.” + +Now I saw that this answer made Pharaoh wroth, for never before had his +will been crossed in such a fashion. Still he controlled himself, and +asked: + +“Do you then consent, Prince, to a gentler sentence, namely that the +Hebrew people should be broken up; that the more dangerous of them +should be sent to labour in the desert mines and quarries, and the rest +distributed throughout Egypt, there to live as slaves?” + +“I do not consent, Pharaoh. My poor counsel is written in yonder roll +and cannot be changed.” + +Meneptah’s eyes flashed, but again he controlled himself, and asked: + +“If you should come to fill this place of mine, Prince Seti, tell us, +here assembled, what policy will you pursue towards these Hebrews?” + +“That policy, O Pharaoh, which I have counselled in the roll. If ever +I fill the throne, I shall let them go whither they will, taking their +goods with them.” + +Now all those present stared at him and murmured. But Pharaoh rose, +shaking with wrath. Seizing his robe where it was fastened at the +breast, he rent it, and cried in a terrible voice: + +“Hear him, ye gods of Egypt! Hear this son of mine who defies me to my +face and would set your necks beneath the heel of a stranger god. Prince +Seti, in the presence of these royal ones, and these my councillors, +I——” + +He said no more, for the Princess Userti, who till now had remained +silent, ran to him, and throwing her arms about him, began to whisper +in his ear. He hearkened to her, then sat himself down, and spoke +again: + +“The Princess brings it to my mind that this is a great matter, one +not to be dealt with hastily. It may happen that when the Prince has +taken counsel with her, and with his own heart, and perchance has +sought the wisdom of the gods, he will change the words which have +passed his lips. I command you, Prince, to wait upon me here at this +same hour on the third day from this. Meanwhile, I command all present, +upon pain of death, to say nothing of what has passed within these +walls.” + +“I hear Pharaoh,” said the Prince, bowing. + +Meneptah rose to show that the Council was discharged, when the Vizier +Nehesi approached him, and asked: + +“What of the Hebrew prisoners, O Pharaoh, those murderers who were +captured in the pass?” + +“Their guilt is proved. Let them be beaten with rods till they die, +and if they have wives or children, let them be seized and sold as +slaves.” + +“Pharaoh’s will be done!” said the Vizier. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +THE SMITING OF AMON + + +That evening I sat ill at ease in my work-chamber in Seti’s palace, +making pretence to write, I who felt that great evils threatened my lord +the Prince, and knew not what to do to turn them from him. The door +opened, and old Pambasa the chamberlain appeared and addressed me by my +new titles, saying that the Hebrew lady Merapi, who had been my nurse +in sickness, wished to speak with me. Presently she came and stood +before me. + +“Scribe Ana,” she said, “I have but just seen my uncle Jabez, +who has come, or been sent, with a message to me,” and she hesitated. + +“Why was he sent, Lady? To bring you news of Laban?” + +“Not so. Laban has fled away and none know where he is, and Jabez has +only escaped much trouble as the uncle of a traitress by undertaking +this mission.” + +“What is the mission?” + +“To pray me, if I would save myself from death and the vengeance of +God, to work upon the heart of his Highness, which I know not how to +do——” + +“Yet I think you might find means, Merapi.” + +“——save through you, his friend and counsellor,” she +went on, turning away her face. “Jabez has learned that it is in the +mind of Pharaoh utterly to destroy the people of Israel.” + +“How does he know that, Merapi?” + +“I cannot say, but I think all the Hebrews know. I knew it myself +though none had told me. He has learned also that this cannot be done +under the law of Egypt unless the Prince who is heir to the throne and +of full age consents. Now I am come to pray you to pray the Prince not +to consent.” + +“Why not pray to the Prince yourself, Merapi——” I +began, when from the shadows behind me I heard the voice of Seti, who +had entered by the private door bearing some writings in his hand, +saying: + +“And what prayer has the lady Merapi to make to me? Nay, rise and +speak, Moon of Israel.” + +“O Prince,” she pleaded, “my prayer is that you will save the +Hebrews from death by the sword, as you alone have the power to do.” + +At this moment the doors opened and in swept the royal Userti. + +“What does this woman here?” she asked. + +“I think that she came to see Ana, wife, as I did, and as doubtless +you do. Also being here she prays me to save her people from the +sword.” + +“And I pray you, husband, to give her people to the sword, which they +have earned, who would have murdered you.” + +“And been paid, everyone of them, Userti, unless some still linger +beneath the rods,” he added with a shudder. “The rest are +innocent—why should they die?” + +“Because your throne hangs upon it, Seti. I say that if you continue +to thwart the will of Pharaoh, as by the law of Egypt you can do, he +will disinherit you and set your cousin Amenmeses in your place, as by +the law of Egypt he can do.” + +“I thought it, Userti. Yet why should I turn my back upon the right +over a matter of my private fortunes? The question is—is it the +right?” + +She stared at him in amazement, she who never understood Seti and could +not dream that he would throw away the greatest throne in all the world +to save a subject people, merely because he thought that they should +not die. Still, warned by some instinct, she left the first question +unanswered, dealing only with the second. + +“It is the right,” she said, “for many reasons whereof I need +give but one, for in it lie all the others. The gods of Egypt are the +true gods whom we must serve and obey, or perish here and hereafter. +The god of the Israelites is a false god and those who worship him are +heretics and by their heresy under sentence of death. Therefore it is +most right that those whom the true gods have condemned should die by +the swords of their servants.” + +“That is well argued, Userti, and if it be so, mayhap my mind will +become as yours in this matter, so that I shall no longer stand between +Pharaoh and his desire. But is it so? There’s the problem. I will not +ask you why you say that the gods of the Egyptians are the true gods, +because I know what you would answer, or rather that you could give no +answer. But I will ask this lady whether her god is a false god, and if +she replies that he is not, I will ask her to prove this to me if she +can. If she is able to prove it, then I think that what I said to +Pharaoh to-day I shall repeat three days hence. If she is not able to +prove it, then I shall consider very earnestly of the matter. Answer +now, Moon of Israel, remembering that many thousands of lives may hang +on what you say.” + +“O your Highness,” began Merapi. Then she paused, clasped her hands +and looked upwards. I think that she was praying, for her lips moved. As +she stood thus I saw, and I think Seti saw also, a very wonderful light +grow on her face and gather in her eyes, a kind of divine fire of +inspiration and resolve. + +“How can I, a poor Hebrew maiden, prove to your Highness that my God +is the true God and that the gods of Egypt are false gods? I know not, +and yet, is there any one god among all the many whom you worship, whom +you are prepared to set up against him?” + +“Of a surety, Israelite,” answered Userti. “There is Amon-Ra, +Father of the gods, of whom all other gods have their being, and from +whom they draw their strength. Yonder his statue sits in the sanctuary +of his ancient temple. Let your god stir him from his place! But what +will you bring forward against the majesty of Amon-Ra?” + +“My God has no statues, Princess, and his place is in the hearts of +men, or so I have been taught by his prophets. I have nothing to bring +forward in this war save that which must be offered in all wars—my +life.” + +“What do you mean?” asked Seti, astounded. + +“I mean that I, unfriended and alone, will enter the presence of +Amon-Ra in his chosen sanctuary, and in the name of my God will +challenge him to kill me, if he can.” + +We stared at her, and Userti exclaimed: + +“If he can! Hearken now to this blasphemer, and do you, Seti, accept +her challenge as hereditary high-priest of the god Amon? Let her life +pay forfeit for her sacrilege.” + +“And if the great god Amon cannot, or does not deign to kill you, +Lady, how will that prove that your god is greater than he?” asked +the Prince. “Perhaps he might smile and in his pity, let the insult +pass, as your god did by me.” + +“Thus it shall be proved, your Highness. If naught happens to me, or +if I am protected from anything that does happen, then I will dare to +call upon my god to work a sign and a wonder, and to humble Amon-Ra +before your eyes.” + +“And if your god should also smile and let the matter pass, Lady, as +he did by me the other day when his priests called upon him, what shall +we have learned as to his strength, or as to that of Amon-Ra?” + +“O Prince, you will have learned nothing. Yet if I escape from the +wrath of Amon and my God is deaf to my prayer, then I am ready to be +delivered over into the hands of the priests of Amon that they may +avenge my sacrilege upon me.” + +“There speaks a great heart,” said Seti; “yet I am not minded +that this lady should set her life upon such an issue. I do not believe +that either the high-god of Egypt or the god of the Israelites will +stir, but I am quite sure that the priests of Amon will avenge the +sacrilege, and that cruelly enough. The dice are loaded against you, +Lady. You shall not prove your faith with blood.” + +“Why not?” asked Userti. “What is this girl to you, Seti, +that you should stand between her and the fruit of her wickedness, you +who at least in name are the high-priest of the god whom she blasphemes +and who wear his robes at temple feasts? She believes in her god, leave +it to her god to help her as she has dared to say he will.” + +“You believe in Amon, Userti. Are you prepared to stake your life +against hers in this contest?” + +“I am not so mad and vain, Seti, as to believe that the god of all the +world will descend from heaven to save me at my prayer, as this impious +girl pretends that she believes.” + +“You refuse. Then, Ana, what say you, who are a loyal worshipper of +Amon?” + +“I say, O Prince, that it would be presumptuous of me to take +precedence of his high-priest in such a matter.” + +Seti smiled and answered: + +“And the high-priest says that it would be presumptuous of him to push +so far the prerogative of a high office which he never sought.” + +“Your Highness,” broke in Merapi in her honeyed, pleading voice, +“I pray you to be gracious to me, and to suffer me to make this trial, +which I have sought, I know not why. Words such as I have spoken cannot +be recalled. Already they are registered in the books of Eternity, and +soon or late, in this way or in that, must be fulfilled. My life is +staked, and I desire to learn at once if it be forfeit.” + +Now even Userti looked on her with admiration, but answered only: + +“Of a truth, Israelite, I trust that this courage will not forsake you +when you are handed over to the mercies of Ki, the Sacrificer of Amon, +and the priests, in the vaults of the temple you would profane.” + +“I also trust that it will not, your Highness, if such should be my +fate. Your word, Prince of Egypt.” + +Seti looked at her standing before him so calmly with bowed head, and +hands crossed upon her breast. Then he looked at Userti, who wore a +mocking smile upon her face. She read the meaning of that smile as I +did. It was that she did not believe that he would allow this beautiful +woman, who had saved his life, to risk her life for the sake of any or +all the powers of heaven or hell. For a little while he walked to and +fro about the chamber, then he stopped and said suddenly addressing, +not Merapi, but Userti: + +“Have your will, remembering that if this brave woman fails and dies, +her blood is on your hands, and that if she triumphs and lives, I shall +hold her to be one of the noblest of her sex, and shall make study of +all this matter of religion. Moon of Israel, as titular high-priest of +Amon-Ra, I accept your challenge on behalf of the god, though whether +he will take note of it I do not know. The trial shall be made +to-morrow night in the sanctuary of the temple, at an hour that will be +communicated to you. I shall be present to make sure that you meet with +justice, as will some others. Register my commands, Scribe Ana, and let +the head-priest of Amon, Roi, and the sacrificer to Amon, Ki the +Magician, be summoned, that I may speak with them. Farewell, Lady.” + +She went, but at the door turned and said: + +“I thank you, Prince, on my own behalf, and on that of my people. +Whatever chances, I beseech you do not forget the prayer that I have +made to you to save them, being innocent, from the sword. Now I ask +that I may be left quite alone till I am summoned to the temple, who +must make such preparation as I can to meet my fate, whatever it may +be.” + +Userti departed also without a word. + +“Oh! friend, what have I done?” said Seti. “Are there any +gods? Tell me, are there any gods?” + +“Perhaps we shall learn to-morrow night, Prince,” I answered. +“At least Merapi thinks that there is a god, and doubtless has been +commanded to put her faith to proof. This, as I believe, was the real +message that Jabez her uncle has brought to her.” + +It was the hour before the dawn, just when the night is darkest. We +stood in the sanctuary of the ancient temple of Amon-Ra, that was lit +with many lamps. It was an awful place. On either side the great +columns towered to the massive roof. At the head of the sanctuary sat +the statue of Amon-Ra, thrice the size of a man. On his brow, rising +from the crown, were two tall feathers of stone, and in his hands he +held the Scourge of Rule and the symbols of Power and Everlastingness. +The lamplight flickered upon his stern and terrible face staring +towards the east. To his right was the statue of Mut, the Mother of all +things. On her head was the double crown of Egypt and the uræus crest, +and in her hand the looped cross, the sign of Life eternal. To his left +sat Khonsu, the hawk-headed god of the moon. On his head was the +crescent of the young moon carrying the disc of the full moon; in his +right hand he also held the looped cross, the sign of Life eternal, and +in his left the Staff of Strength. Such was this mighty triad, but of +these the greatest was Amon-Ra, to whom the shrine was dedicated. +Fearful they stood towering above us against the background of +blackness. + +Gathered there were Seti the Prince, clothed in a priest’s white robe, +and wearing a linen headdress, but no ornaments, and Userti the +Princess, high-priestess of Hathor, Lady of the West, Goddess of Love +and Nature. She wore Hathor’s vulture headdress, and on it the disc +of the moon fashioned of silver. Also were present Roi the head-priest, +clad in his sacerdotal robes, an old and wizened man with a strong, +fierce face, Ki the Sacrificer and Magician, Bakenkhonsu the ancient, +myself, and a company of the priests of Amon-Ra, Mut, and Khonsu. From +behind the statues came the sound of solemn singing, though who sang we +could not see. + +Presently from out of the darkness that lay beyond the lamps appeared a +woman, led by two priestesses and wrapped in a long cloak. They brought +her to an open place in front of the statue of Amon, took from her the +cloak and departed, glancing back at her with eyes of hate and fear. +There before us stood Merapi, clad in white, with a simple wimple about +her head made fast beneath her chin with that scarabæus clasp which +Seti had given to her in the city of Goshen, one spot of brightest blue +amid a cloud of white. She looked neither to right nor left of her. +Once only she glanced at the towering statue of the god that frowned +above, then with a little shiver, fixed her eyes upon the pattern of +the floor. + +“What does she look like?” whispered Bakenkhonsu to me. + +“A corpse made ready for the embalmers,” I answered. + +He shook his great head. + +“Then a bride made ready for her husband.” + +Again he shook his head. + +“Then a priestess about to read from the roll of Mysteries.” + +“Now you have it, Ana, and to understand what she reads, which few +priestesses ever do. Also all three answers were right, for in this +woman I seem to see doom that is Death, life that is Love, and spirit +that is Power. She has a soul which both Heaven and Earth have +kissed.” + +“Aye, but which of them will claim her in the end?” + +“That we may learn before the dawn, Ana. Hush! the fight begins.” + +The head-priest, Roi, advanced and, standing before the god, sprinkled +his feet with water and with perfume. Then he stretched out his hands, +whereon all present prostrated themselves, save Merapi only, who stood +alone in that great place like the survivor of a battle. + +“Hail to thee, Amon-Ra,” he began, “Lord of Heaven, +Establisher of all things, Maker of the gods, who unrolled the skies and +built the foundations of the Earth. O god of gods, appears before thee +this woman Merapi, daughter of Nathan, a child of the Hebrew race that +owns thee not. This woman blasphemes thy might; this woman defies thee; +this woman sets up her god above thee. Is it not so, woman?” + +“It is so,” answered Merapi in a low voice. + +“Thus does she defy thee, thou Only One of many Forms, saying ‘if +the god Amon of the Egyptians be a greater god than my god, let him +snatch me out of the arms of my god and here in this the shrine of Amon +take the breath from out my lips and leave me a thing of clay.’ Are +these thy words, O woman?” + +“They are my words,” she said in the same low voice, and oh! I +shivered as I heard. + +The priest went on. + +“O Lord of Time, Lord of Life, Lord of Spirits and the Divinities of +Heaven, Lord of Terror, come forth now in thy majesty and smite this +blasphemer to the dust.” + +Roi withdrew and Seti stood forward. + +“Know, O god Amon,” he said, addressing the statue as though he wee +speaking to a living man, “from the lips of me, thy high-priest, by +birth the Prince and Heir of Egypt, that great things hang upon this +matter here in the Land of Egypt, mayhap even who shall sit upon the +throne that thou givest to its kings. This woman of Israel dares thee +to thy face, saying that there is a greater god than thou art and that +thou canst not harm her through the buckler of his strength. She says, +moreover, that she will call upon her god to work a sign and a wonder +upon thee. Lastly, she says that if thou dost not harm her and if her +god works no sign upon thee, then she is ready to be handed over to thy +priests and die the death of a blasphemer. Thy honour is set against her + life, O great God of Egypt, and we, thy worshippers, watch to see the +balance turn.” + +“Well and justly put,” muttered Bakenkhonsu to me. “Now if +Amon fails us, what will you think of Amon, Ana?” + +“I shall learn the high-priest’s mind and think what the +high-priest thinks,” I answered darkly, though in my heart I was +terribly afraid for Merapi, and, to speak truth, for myself also, +because of the doubts which arose in me and would not be quenched. + +Seti withdrew, taking his stand by Userti, and Ki stood forward and +said: + +“O Amon, I thy Sacrificer, I thy Magician, to whom thou givest power, +I the priest and servant of Isis, Mother of Mysteries, Queen of the +company of the gods, call upon thee. She who stands before thee is but +a Hebrew woman. Yet, as thou knowest well, O Father, in this house she +is more than woman, inasmuch as she is the Voice and Sword of thine +enemy, Jahveh, god of the Israelites. She thinks, mayhap, that she has +come here of her own will, but thou knowest, Father Amon, as I know, +that she is sent by the great prophets of her people, those magicians +who guide her soul with spells to work thee evil and to set thee, Amon, +beneath the heel of Jahveh. The stake seems small, the life of this one +maid, no more; yet it is very great. This is the stake, O Father: Shall +Amon rule the world, or Jahveh. If thou fallest to-night, thou fallest +for ever; if thou dost triumph to-night, thou dost triumph for ever. In +yonder shape of stone hides thy spirit; in yonder shape of woman’s +flesh hides the spirit of thy foe. Smite her, O Amon, smite her to +small dust; let not the strength that is in her prevail against thy +strength, lest thy name should be defiled and sorrows and loss should +come upon the land which is thy throne; lest, too, the wizards of the +Israelites should overcome us thy servants. Thus prayeth Ki thy +magician, on whose soul it has pleased thee to pour strength and +wisdom.” + +Then followed a great silence. + +Watching the statue of the god, presently I thought that it moved, and +as I could see by the stir among them, so did the others. I thought +that its stone eyes rolled, I thought that it lifted the Scourge of +Power in its granite hand, though whether these things were done by +some spirit or by some priest, or by the magic of Ki, I do not know. At +the least, a great wind began to blow about the temple, stirring our +robes and causing the lamps to flicker. Only the robes of Merapi did +not stir. Yet she saw what I could not see, for suddenly her eyes grew +frightened. + +“The god is awake,” whispered Bakenkhonsu. “Now good-bye to +your fair Israelite. See, the Prince trembles, Ki smiles, and the face +of Userti glows with triumph.” + +As he spoke the blue scarabæus was snatched from Merapi’s breast as +though by a hand. It fell to the floor as did her wimple, so that now +she appeared with her rich hair flowing down her robe. Then the eyes of +the statue seemed to cease to roll, the wind ceased to blow, and again +there was silence. + +Merapi stooped, lifted the wimple, replaced it on her head, found the +scarabæus clasp, and very quietly, as a woman who was tiring herself +might do, made it fast in its place again, a sight at which I heard +Userti gasp. + +For a long while we waited. Watching the faces of the congregation, I +saw amazement and doubt on those of the priests, rage on that of Ki, +and on Seti’s the flicker of a little smile. Merapi’s eyes were +closed as though she were asleep. At length she opened them, and +turning her head towards the Prince said: + +“O high-priest of Amon-Ra, has your god worked his will on me, or must +I wait longer before I call upon my God?” + +“Do what you will or can, woman, and make an end, for almost it is the +moment of dawn when the temple worship opens.” + +Then Merapi clasped her hands, and looking upwards, prayed aloud very +sweetly and simply, saying: + +“O God of my fathers, trusting in Thee, I, a poor maid of Thy people +Israel, have set the life Thou gavest me in Thy Hand. If, as I believe, +Thou art the God of gods, I pray Thee show a sign and a wonder upon +this god of the Egyptians, and thereby declare Thine Honour and keep my +breath within my breast. If it pleases Thee not, then let me die, as +doubtless for my many sins I deserve to do. O God of my fathers, I have +made my prayer. Hear it or reject it according to Thy Will.” + +So she ended, and listening to her, I felt the tears rising in my eyes, +because she was so much alone, and I feared that this god of hers would +never come to save her from the torments of the priests. Seti also +turned his head away, and stared down the sanctuary at the sky over the +open court where the lights of dawn were gathering. + +Once more there was silence. Then again that wind blew, very strongly, +extinguishing the lamps, and, as it seemed to me, whirling away Merapi +from where she was, so that now she stood to one side of the statue. +The sanctuary was filled with gloom, till presently the first rays of +the rising sun struck upon the roof. They fell down, down, as minute +followed minute, till at length they rested like a sword of flame upon +the statue of Amon-Ra. Once more that statue seemed to move. I thought +that it lifted its stone arms to protect its head. Then in a moment +with a rending noise, its mighty mass burst asunder, and fell in small +dust about the throne, almost hiding it from sight. + +“Behold my God has answered me, the most humble of His servants,” +said Merapi in the same sweet and gentle voice. “Behold the sign and +the wonder!” + +“Witch!” screamed the head-priest Roi, and fled away, followed by +his fellows. + +“Sorceress!” hissed Userti, and fled also, as did all the others, +save the Prince, Bakenkhonsu, I Ana, and Ki the Magician. + +We stood amazed, and while we did so, Ki turned to Merapi and spoke. His +face was terrible with fear and fury, and his eyes shone like lamps. +Although he did but whisper, I who was nearest to them heard all that +was said, which the others could not do. + +“Your magic is good, Israelite,” he muttered, “so good that +it has overcome mine here in the temple where I serve.” + +“I have no magic,” she answered very low. “I obeyed a +command, no more.” + +He laughed bitterly, and asked: + +“Should two of a trade waste time on foolishness? Listen now. Teach me +your secrets, and I will teach you mine, and together we will drive +Egypt like a chariot.” + +“I have no secrets, I have only faith,” said Merapi again. + +“Woman,” he went on, “woman or devil, will you take me for +friend or foe? Here I have been shamed, since it was to me and not to +their gods that the priests trusted to destroy you. Yet I can still +forgive. Choose now, knowing that as my friendship will lead you to +rule, to life and splendour, so my hate will drive you to shame and +death.” + +“You are beside yourself, and know not what you say. I tell you that I +have no magic to give or to withhold,” she answered, as one who did +not understand or was indifferent, and turned away from him. + +Thereon he muttered some curse which I could not catch, bowed to the +heap of dust that had been the statue of the god, and vanished away +among the pillars of the sanctuary. + +“Oho-ho!” laughed Bakenkhonsu. “Not in vain have I lived to +be so very old, for now it seems we have a new god in Egypt, and there +stands his prophetess.” + +Merapi came to the prince. + +“O high-priest of Amon,” she said, “does it please you to let +me go, for I am very weary?” + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +THE DEATH OF PHARAOH + + +It was the appointed day and hour. By command of the Prince I drove with +him to the palace of Pharaoh, whither her Highness the Princess refused +to be his companion, and for the first time we talked together of that +which had passed in the temple. + +“Have you seen the lady Merapi?” he asked of me. + +I answered No, as I was told that she was sick within her house and lay +abed suffering from weariness, or I knew not what. + +“She does well to keep there,” said Seti, “I think that if +she came out those priests would murder her if they could. Also there +are others,” and he glanced back at the chariot that bore Userti in +state. “Say, Ana, can you interpret all this matter?” + +“Not I, Prince. I thought that perhaps your Highness, the high-priest +of Amon, could give me light.” + +“The high-priest of Amon wanders in thick darkness. Ki and the rest +swear that this Israelite is a sorceress who has outmatched their +magic, but to me it seems more simple to believe that what she says is +true; that her god is greater than Amon.” + +“And if this be true, Prince, what are we to do who are sworn to the +gods of Egypt?” + +“Bow our heads and fall with them, I suppose, Ana, since honour will +not suffer us to desert them.” + +“Even if they be false, Prince?” + +“I do not think that they are false, Ana, though mayhap they be less +true. At least they are the gods of the Egyptians and we are +Egyptians.” He paused and glanced at the crowded streets, then added, +“See, when I passed this way three days ago I was received with +shouts of welcome by the people. Now they are silent, every one.” + +“Perhaps they have heard of what passed in the temple.” + +“Doubtless, but it is not that which troubles them who think that the +gods can guard themselves. They have heard also that I would befriend +the Hebrews whom they hate, and therefore they begin to hate me. Why +should I complain when Pharaoh shows them the way?” + +“Prince,” I whispered, “what will you say to Pharaoh?” + +“That depends on what Pharaoh says to me. Ana, if I will not desert +our gods because they seem to be the weaker, though it should prove to +my advantage, do you think that I would desert these Hebrews because +they seem to be weaker, even to gain a throne?” + +“There greatness speaks,” I murmured, and as we descended from the +chariot he thanked me with a look. + +We passed through the great hall to that same chamber where Pharaoh had +given me the chain of gold. Already he was there seated at the head of +the chamber and wearing on his head the double crown. About him were +gathered all those of royal blood and the great officers of state. We +made our obeisances, but of these he seemed to take no note. His eyes +were almost closed, and to me he looked like a man who is very ill. The +Princess Userti entered after us and to her he spoke some words of +welcome, giving her his hand to kiss. Then he ordered the doors to be +closed. As he did so, an officer of the household entered and said that +a messenger had come from the Hebrews who desired speech with Pharaoh. + +“Let him enter,” said Meneptah, and presently he appeared. + +He was a wild-eyed man of middle age, with long hair that fell over his +sheepskin robe. To me he looked like a soothsayer. He stood before +Pharaoh, making no salutation. + +“Deliver your message and be gone,” said Nehesi the Vizier. + +“These are the words of the Fathers of Israel, spoken by my lips,” +cried the man in a voice that rang all round the vaulted chamber. “It +has come to our ears, O Pharaoh, that the woman Merapi, daughter of +Nathan, who has refuged in your city, she who is named Moon of Israel, +has shown herself to be a prophetess of power, one to whom our God has +given strength, in that, standing alone amidst the priests and +magicians of Amon of the Egyptians, she took no harm from their +sorceries and was able with the sword of prayer to smite the idol of +Amon to the dust. We demand that this prophetess be restored to us, +making oath on our part that she shall be given over safely to her +betrothed husband and that no harm shall come to her for any crimes or +treasons she may have committed against her people.” + +“As to this matter,” replied Pharaoh quietly, “make your +prayer to the Prince of Egypt, in whose household I understand the woman +dwells. If it pleases him to surrender her who, I take it, is a witch or +a cunning worker of tricks, to her betrothed and her kindred, let him +do so. It is not for Pharaoh to judge of the fate of private slaves.” + +The man wheeled round and addressed Seti, saying: + +“You have heard, Son of the King. Will you deliver up this woman?” + +“Neither do I promise to deliver her up nor not to deliver her up,” +answered Seti, “since the lady Merapi is no member of my household, +nor have I any authority over her. She who saved my life dwells within +my walls for safety’s sake. If it pleases her to go, she can go; if +it pleases her to remain, she can remain. When this Court is finished I +give you safe-conduct to appear and in my presence learn her pleasure +from her lips.” + +“You have your answer; now be gone,” said Nehesi. + +“Nay,” cried the man, “I have more words to speak. Thus say +the Fathers of Israel: We know the black counsel of your heart, O +Pharaoh. It has been revealed to us that it is in your mind to put the +Hebrews to the sword, as it is in the mind of the Prince of Egypt to +save them from the sword. Change that mind of yours, O Pharaoh, and +swiftly, lest death fall upon you from heaven above.” + +“Cease!” thundered Meneptah in a voice that stilled the murmurs of +the court. “Dog of a Hebrew, do you dare to threaten Pharaoh on his +own throne? I tell you that were you not a messenger, and therefore +according to our ancient law safe till the sun sets, you should be hewn +limb from limb. Away with him, and if he is found in this city after +nightfall let him be slain!” + +Then certain of the councillors sprang upon the man and thrust him forth +roughly. At the door he wrenched himself free and shouted: + +“Think upon my words, Pharaoh, before this sun has set. And you, great +ones of Egypt, think on them also before it appears again.” + +They drove him out with blows and the doors were shut. Once more +Meneptah began to speak, saying: + +“Now that this brawler is gone, what have you to say to me, Prince of +Egypt? Do you still give me the counsel that you wrote in the roll? Do +you still refuse, as heir of the Throne, to assent to my decree that +these accursed Hebrews be destroyed with the sword of my justice?” + +Now all turned their eyes on Seti, who thought a while, and answered: + +“Let Pharaoh pardon me, but the counsel that I gave I still give; the +assent that I refused I still refuse, because my heart tells me that so +it is right to do, and so I think will Egypt be saved from many +troubles.” + +When the scribes had finished writing down these words Pharaoh asked +again: + +“Prince of Egypt, if in a day to come you should fill my place, is it +still your intent to let this people of the Hebrews go unharmed, taking +with them the wealth that they have gathered here?” + +“Let Pharaoh pardon me, that is still my intent.” + +Now at these fateful words there arose a sigh of astonishment from all +that heard them. Before it had died away Pharaoh had turned to Userti +and was asking: + +“Are these your counsel, your will, and your intent also, O Princess +of Egypt?” + +“Let Pharaoh hear me,” answered Userti in a cold, clear voice, +“they are not. In this great matter my lord the Prince walks one road +and I walk another. My counsel, will, and intent are those of +Pharaoh.” + +“Seti my son,” said Meneptah, more kindly than I had ever heard him +speak before, “for the last time, not as your king but as your father, +I pray you to consider. Remembering that as it lies in your power, +being of full age and having been joined with me in many matters of +government, to refuse your assent to a great act of state, so it lies +in my power with the assent of the high-priests and of my ministers to +remove you from my path. Seti, I can disinherit you and set another in +your place, and if you persist, that and no less I shall do. Consider, +therefore, my son.” + +In the midst of an intense silence Seti answered: + +“I have considered, O my Father, and whatever be the cost to me I +cannot go back upon my words.” + +Then Pharaoh rose and cried: + +“Take note all you assembled here, and let it be proclaimed to the +people of Egypt without the gates, that they take note also, that I +depose Seti my son from his place as Prince of Egypt and declare that +he is removed from the succession to the double Crown. Take note that +my daughter Userti, Princess of Egypt, wife of the Prince Seti, I do +not depose. Whatever rights and heritages are hers as heiress of Egypt +let those rights and heritages remain to her, and if a child be born of +her and Prince Seti, who lives, let that child be heir to the Throne of +Egypt. Take note that, if no such child is born or until it is born, I +name my nephew, the count Amenmeses, son of my brother Khaemuas, now +gathered to Osiris, to fill the Throne of Egypt when I am no more. Come +hither, Count Amenmeses.” + +He advanced and stood before him. Then Pharaoh lifted from his head the +double crown he wore and for a moment set it on the brow of Amenmeses, +saying as he replaced it on his own head: + +“By this act and token do I name and constitute you, Amenmeses, to be +Royal Prince of Egypt in place of my son, Prince Seti, deposed. +Withdraw, Royal Prince of Egypt. I have spoken.” + +“Life! Blood! Strength!” cried all the company bowing before +Pharaoh, all save the Prince Seti who neither bowed nor stirred. Only he +cried: + +“And I have heard. Will Pharaoh be pleased to declare whether with my +royal heritage he takes my life? If so, let it be here and now. My +cousin Amenmeses wears a sword.” + +“Nay, Son,” answered Meneptah sadly, “your life is left to +you and with it all your private rank and your possessions whatsoever +and wherever they may be.” + +“Let Pharaoh’s will be done,” replied Seti indifferently, +“in this as in all things. Pharaoh spares my life until such time as +Amenmeses his successor shall fill his place, when it shall be taken.” + +Meneptah started; this thought was new to him. + +“Stand forth, Amenmeses,” he cried, “and swear now the +threefold oath that may not be broken. Swear by Amon, by Ptah, and by +Osiris, god of death, that never will you attempt to harm the Prince +Seti, your cousin, either in body or in such state and prerogative as +remain to him. Let Roi, the head-priest of Amon, administer the oath +now before us all.” + +So Roi spoke the oath in the ancient form, which was terrible even to +hear, and Amenmeses, unwillingly enough as I thought, repeated it after +him, adding however these words at the end, “All these things I swear +and all these penalties in this world and the world to be I invoke upon +my head, provided only that when the time comes the Prince Seti leaves +me in peace upon the throne to which it has pleased Pharaoh to decree +to me.” + +Now some there murmured that this was not enough, since in their hearts +there were few who did not love Seti and grieve to see him thus +stripped of his royal heritage because his judgment differed from that +of Pharaoh over a matter of State policy. But Seti only laughed and +said scornfully: + +“Let be, for of what value are such oaths? Pharaoh on the throne is +above all oaths who must make answer to the gods only and from the +hearts of some the gods are far away. Let Amenmeses not fear that I +shall quarrel with him over this matter of a crown, I who in truth have +never longed for the pomp and cares of royalty and who, deprived of +these, still possess all that I can desire. I go my way henceforward as +one of many, a noble of Egypt—no more, and if in a day to come it +pleases the Pharaoh to be to shorten my wanderings, I am not sure that +even then I shall grieve so very much, who am content to accept the +judgment of the gods, as in the end he must do also. Yet, Pharaoh my +father, before we part I ask leave to speak the thoughts that rise in +me.” + +“Say on,” muttered Meneptah. + +“Pharaoh, having your leave, I tell you that I think you have done a +very evil work this day, one that is unpleasing to those Powers which +rule the world, whoever and whatsoever they may be, one too that will +bring upon Egypt sorrows countless as the sand. I believe that these +Hebrews whom you unjustly seek to slay worship a god as great or +greater than our own, and that they and he will triumph over Egypt. I +believe also that the mighty heritage which you have taken from me will +bring neither joy nor honour to him by whom it has been received.” + +Here Amenmeses started forward, but Meneptah held up his hand, and he +was silent. + +“I believe, Pharaoh—alas! that I must say it—that your days +on earth are few and that for the last time we look on each other +living. Farewell, Pharaoh my father, whom still I love mayhap more in +this hour of parting than ever I did before. Farewell, Amenmeses, +Prince of Egypt. Take from me this ornament which henceforth should be +worn by you only,” and lifting from his headdress that royal circlet +which marks the heir to the throne, he held it to Amenmeses, who took +it and, with a smile of triumph, set it on his brow. + +“Farewell, Lords and Councillors; it is my hope that in yonder prince +you will find a master more to your liking that ever I could have been. +Come, Ana, my friend, if it still pleases you to cling to me for a +little while, now that I have nothing left to give.” + +For a few moments he stood still looking very earnestly at his father, +who looked back at him with tears in his deep-set, faded eyes. + +Then, though whether this was by chance I cannot say, taking no note of +the Princess Userti, who gazed at him perplexed and wrathful, Seti drew +himself up and cried in the ancient form: + +“Life! Blood! Strength! Pharaoh! Pharaoh! Pharaoh!” and bowed +almost to the ground. + +Meneptah heard. Muttering beneath his breath, “Oh! Seti, my son, my +most beloved son!” he stretched out his arms as though to call him +back or perhaps to clasp him. As he did so I saw his face change. Next +instant he fell forward to the ground and lay there still. All the +company stood struck with horror, only the royal physician ran to him, +while Roi and others who were priests began to mutter prayers. + +“Has the good god been gathered to Osiris?” asked Amenmeses +presently in a hoarse voice, “because if it be so, I am Pharaoh.” + +“Nay, Amenmeses,” exclaimed Userti, “the decrees have not yet +been sealed or promulgated. They have neither strength nor weight.” + +Before he could answer the physician cried: + +“Peace! Pharaoh still lives, his heart beats. This is but a fit which +may pass. Begone, every one, he must have quiet.” + +So we went, but first Seti knelt down and kissed his father on the brow. + +An hour later the Princess Userti broke into the room of his palace +where the Prince and I were talking. + +“Seti,” she said, “Pharaoh still lives, but the physicians +say he will be dead by dawn. There is yet time. Here I have a writing, +sealed with his signet and witnessed, wherein he recalls all that he +decreed in the Court to-day, and declares you, his son, to be the true +and only heir of the throne of Egypt.” + +“Is it so, wife? Tell me now how did a dying man in a swoon command +and seal this writing?” and he touched the scroll she held in her +hand. + +“He recovered for a little while; Nehesi will tell you how,” she +replied, looking him in the face with cold eyes. Then before he could +speak, she added, “Waste no more breath in questions, but act and at +once. The General of the guards waits below; he is your faithful +servant. Through him I have promised a gift to every soldier on the day +that you are crowned. Nehesi and most of the officers are on our side. +Only the priests are against us because of that Hebrew witch whom you +shelter, and of her tribe whom you befriend; but they have not had time +to stir up the people nor will they attempt revolt. Act, Seti, act, for +none will move without your express command. Moreover, no question will +be raised afterwards, since from Thebes to the sea and throughout the +world you are known to be the heir of Egypt.” + +“What would you have me do, wife?” asked Seti, when she paused for +lack of breath. + +“Cannot you guess? Must I put statecraft into your head as well as a +sword into your hand? Why that scribe of yours, who follows your heels +like a favoured dog, would be more apt a pupil. Hearken then. Amenmeses +has sent out to gather strength, but as yet there are not fifty men +about him whom he can trust.” She leant forward and whispered +fiercely, “Kill the traitor, Amenmeses—all will hold it a righteous +act, and the General waits your word. Shall I summon him?” + +“I think not,” answered Seti. “Because Pharaoh, as he has a +right to do, is pleased to name a certain man of royal blood to succeed +him, how does this make that man a traitor to Pharaoh who still lives? +But, traitor or none, I will not murder my cousin Amenmeses.” + +“Then he will murder you.” + +“Maybe. That is a matter between him and the gods which I leave them +to settle. The oath he swore to-day is not one to be lightly broken. +But whether he breaks it or not, I also swore an oath, at least in my +heart, namely that I would not attempt to dispute the will of Pharaoh +whom, after all, I love as my father and honour as my king, Pharaoh who +still lives and may, as I hope, recover. What should I say to him if he +recovered or, at the worst, when at last we meet elsewhere?” + +“Pharaoh never will recover; I have spoken to the physician and he +told me so. Already they pierce his skull to let out the evil spirit of +sickness, after which none of our family have lived for very long.” + +“Because, as I hold, thereby, whatever priests and physicians may say, +they let in the good spirit of death. Ana, I pray you if I——” + +“Man,” she broke in, striking her hand upon the table by which she +stood, “do you understand that while you muse and moralise your crown +is passing from you?” + +“It has already passed, Lady. Did you not see me give it to +Amenmeses?” + +“Do you understand that you who should be the greatest king in all the +world, in some few hours if indeed you are allowed to live, will be +nothing but a private citizen of Egypt, one at whom the very beggars +may spit and take no harm?” + +“Surely, Wife. Moreover, there is little virtue in what I do, since on +the whole I prefer that prospect and am willing to take the risk of +being hurried from an evil world. Hearken,” he added, with a change +of tone and gesture. “You think me a fool and a weakling; a dreamer +also, you, the clear-eyed, hard-brained stateswoman who look to the +glittering gain of the moment for which you are ready to pay in blood, +and guess nothing of what lies beyond. I am none of these things, +except, perchance, the last. I am only a man who strives to be just and +to do right, as right seems to me, and if I dream, it is of good, not +evil, as I understand good and evil. You are sure that this dreaming of +mine will lead me to worldly loss and shame. Even of that _I_ am not +sure. The thought comes to me that it may lead me to those very baubles +on which you set your heart, but by a path strewn with spices and with +flowers, not by one paved with the bones of men and reeking with their +gore. Crowns that are bought with the promise of blood and held with +cruelty are apt to be lost in blood, Userti.” + +She waved her hand. “I pray you keep the rest, Seti, till I have more +time to listen. Moreover if I need prophecies, I think it better to turn +to Ki and those who make them their life-study. For me this is a day of +deeds, not dreams, and since you refuse my help, and behave as a sick +girl lost in fancies, I must see to myself. As while you live I cannot +reign alone or wage war in my own name only, I go to make terms with +Amenmeses, who will pay me high for peace.” + +“You go—and do you return, Userti?” + +She drew herself to her full height, looking very royal, and answered +slowly: + +“I do not return. I, the Princess of Egypt, cannot live as the wife of +a common man who falls from a throne to set himself upon the earth, and +smears his own brow with mud for a uræus crown. When your prophecies +come true, Seti, and you crawl from your dust, then perhaps we may +speak again.” + +“Aye, Userti, but the question is, what shall we say?” + +“Meanwhile,” she added, as she turned, “I leave you to your +chosen counsellors—yonder scribe, whom foolishness, not wisdom, has +whitened before his time, and perchance the Hebrew sorceress, who can +give you moonbeams to drink from those false lips of hers. Farewell, +Seti, once a prince and my husband.” + +“Farewell, Userti, who, I fear, must still remain my sister.” + +Then he watched her go, and turning to me, said: + +“To-day, Ana, I have lost both a crown and a wife, yet strange to tell +I do not know which of these calamities grieves me least. Yet it is +time that fortune turned. Or mayhap all the evils are not done. Would +you not go also, Ana? Although she gibes at you in her anger, the +Princess thinks well of you, and would keep you in her service. +Remember, whoever falls in Egypt, she will be great till the last.” + +“Oh! Prince,” I answered, “have I not borne enough to-day +that you must add insult to my load, you with whom I broke the cup and +swore the oath?” + +“What!” he laughed. “Is there one in Egypt who remembers +oaths to his own loss? I thank you, Ana,” and taking my hand he +pressed it. + +At that moment the door opened, and old Pambasa entered, saying: + +“The Hebrew woman, Merapi, would see you; also two Hebrew men.” + +“Admit them,” said Seti. “Note, Ana, how yonder old +time-server turns his face from the setting sun. This morning even it +would have been ‘to see your Highness,’ uttered with bows so low +that his beard swept the floor. Now it is ‘to see you’ and not so +much as an inclination of the head in common courtesy. This, moreover, +from one who has robbed me year by year and grown fat on bribes. It is +the first of many bitter lessons, or rather the second—that of her +Highness was the first; I pray that I may learn them with humility.” + +While he mused thus and, having no comfort to offer, I listened sad at +heart, Merapi entered, and a moment after her the wide-eyed messenger +whom we had seen in Pharaoh’s Court, and her uncle Jabez the cunning +merchant. She bowed low to Seti, and smiled at me. Then the other two +appeared, and with small salutation the messenger began to speak. + +“You know my demand, Prince,” he said. “It is that this woman +should be returned to her people. Jabez, her uncle, will lead her +away.” + +“And you know my answer, Israelite,” answered Seti. “It is +that I have no power over the coming or the going of the lady Merapi, or +at least wish to claim none. Address yourself to her.” + +“What is it you wish with me, Priest?” asked Merapi quickly. + +“That you should return to the town of Goshen, daughter of Nathan. +Have you no ears to hear?” + +“I hear, but if I return, what will you of me?” + +“That you who have proved yourself a prophetess by your deeds in +yonder temple should dedicate your powers to the service of your +people, receiving in return full forgiveness for the evils you have +wrought against them, which we swear to you in the name of God.” + +“I am no prophetess, and I have wrought no evils against my people, +Priest. I have only saved them from the evil of murdering one who has +shown himself their friend, even as I hear to the laying down of his +crown for their sake.” + +“That is for the Fathers of Israel and not for you to judge, woman. +Your answer?” + +“It is neither for them nor for me, but for God only.” She paused, +then added, “Is this all you ask of me?” + +“It is all the Fathers ask, but Laban asks his affianced wife.” + +“And am I to be given in marriage to—this assassin?” + +“Without doubt you are to be given to this brave soldier, being +already his.” + +“And if I refuse?” + +“Then, Daughter of Nathan, it is my part to curse you in the name of +God, and to declare you cut off and outcast from the people of God. It +is my part to announce to you further that your life is forfeit, and +that any Hebrew may kill you when and how he can, and take no blame.” + +Merapi paled a little, then turning to Jabez, asked: + +“You have heard, my uncle. What say you?” + +Jabez looked round shiftily, and said in his unctuous voice: + +“My niece, surely you must obey the commands of the Elders of Israel +who speak the will of Heaven, as you obeyed them when you matched +yourself against the might of Amon.” + +“You gave me a different counsel yesterday, my uncle. Then you said I +had better bide where I was.” + +The messenger turned and glared at him. + +“There is a great difference between yesterday and to-day,” went on +Jabez hurriedly. “Yesterday you were protected by one who would soon +be Pharaoh, and might have been able to move his mind in favour of your +folk. To-day his greatness is stripped from him, and his will has no +more weight in Egypt. A dead lion is not to be feared, my niece.” + +Seti smiled at this insult, but Merapi’s face, like my own, grew red, +as though with anger. + +“Sleeping lions have been taken for dead ere now, my uncle, as those +who would spurn them have discovered to their cost. Prince Seti, have +you no word to help me in this strait?” + +“What is the strait, Lady? If you wish to go to your people and—to +Laban, who, I understand, is recovered from his hurts, there is naught +between you and me save my gratitude to you which gives me the right to +say you shall not go. If, however, you wish to stay, then perhaps I am +still not so powerless to shield or smite as this worthy Jabez thinks, +who still remain the greatest lord in Egypt and one with those that +love him. Therefore should you desire to remain, I think that you may +do so unmolested of any, and least of all by that friend in whose +shadow it pleases you to sojourn.” + +“Those are very gentle words,” murmured Merapi, “words that +few would speak to a maid from whom naught is asked and who has naught +to give.” + +“A truce to this talk,” snarled the messenger. “Do you obey +or do you rebel? Your answer.” + +She turned and looked him full in the face, saying: + +“I do not return to Goshen and to Laban, of whose sword I have seen +enough.” + +“Mayhap you will see more of it before all is done. For the last time, +think ere the curse of your God and your people falls upon you, and +after it, death. For fall I say it shall, I, who, as Pharaoh knows +to-day, am no false prophet, and as that Prince knows also.” + +“I do not think that my God, who sees the hearts of those that he has +made, will avenge himself upon a woman because she refuses to be wedded +to a murderer whom of her own will she never chose, which, Priest, is +the fate you offer me. Therefore I am content to leave judgment in the +hands of the great Judge of all. For the rest I defy you and your +commands. If I must be slaughtered, let me die, but at least let me die +mistress of myself and free, who am no man’s love, or wife, or +slave.” + +“Well spoken!” whispered Seti to me. + +Then this priest became terrible. Waving his arms and rolling his wild +eyes, he poured out some hideous curse upon the head of this poor maid, +much of which, as it was spoken rapidly in an ancient form of Hebrew, +we did not understand. He cursed her living, dying, and after death. He +cursed her in her love and hate, wedded or alone. He cursed her in +child-bearing or in barrenness, and he cursed her children after her to +all generations. Lastly, he declared her cut off from and rejected by +the god she worshipped, and sentenced her to death at the hands of any +who could slay her. So horrible was that curse that she shrank away +from him, while Jabez crouched about the ground hiding his eyes with his + hands, and even I felt my blood turn cold. + +At length he paused, foaming at the lips. Then, suddenly, shouting, +“After judgment, doom!” he drew a knife from his robe and sprang at +her. + +She fled behind us. He followed, but Seti, crying, “Ah, I thought +it,” leapt between them, as he did so drawing the iron sword which he +wore with his ceremonial dress. At him he sprang and the next thing I +saw was the red point of the sword standing out beyond the priest’s +shoulders. + +Down he fell, babbling: + +“Is this how you show your love for Israel, Prince?” + +“It is how I show my hate of murderers,” answered Seti. + +Then the man died. + +“Oh!” cried Merapi wringing her hands, “once more I have +caused Hebrew blood to flow and now all this curse will fall on me.” + +“Nay, on me, Lady, if there is anything in curses, which I doubt, for +this deed was mine, and at the worst yonder mad brute’s knife did not +fall on you.” + +“Yes, life is left if only for a little while. Had it not been for +you, Prince, by now, I——” and she shuddered. + +“And had it not been for you, Moon of Israel, by now +I——” and he smiled, adding, “Surely Fate weaves a +strange web round you and me. First you save me from the sword; then I +save you. I think, Lady, that in the end we ought to die together and +give Ana here stuff for the best of all his stories. Friend Jabez,” +he went on to the Israelite who was still crouching in the corner with +the eyes starting from his head, “get you back to your gentle-hearted +people and make it clear to them why the lady Merapi cannot companion +you, taking with you that carrion to prove your tale. Tell them that if +they send more men to molest your niece a like fate awaits them, but +that now as before I do not turn my back upon them because of the deeds +of a few madmen or evil-doers, as I have given them proof to-day. Ana, +make ready, since soon I leave for Memphis. See that the Lady Merapi, +who will travel alone, has fit escort for her journey, that is if it +pleases her to depart from Tanis.” + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +THE CROWNING OF AMENMESES + + +Now, notwithstanding all the woes that fell on Egypt and a certain +secret sorrow of my own, began the happiest of the days which the gods +have given me. We went to Mennefer or Memphis, the white-walled city +where I was born, the city that I loved. Now no longer did I dwell in a +little house near to the enclosure of the temple of Ptah, which is +vaster and more splendid than all those of Thebes or Tanis. My home was +in the beautiful palace of Seti, which he had inherited from his +mother, the Great Royal Wife. It stood, and indeed still stands, on a +piled-up mound without the walls near to the temple of the goddess +Neit, who always has her habitation to the north of the wall, why I do +not know, because even her priests cannot tell me. In front of this +palace, facing to the north, is a great portico, whereof the roof is +borne upon palm-headed, painted columns whence may be seen the most +lovely prospect in Egypt. First the gardens, then the palm-groves, then +the cultivated land, then the broad and gentle Nile and, far away, the +desert. + +Here, then, we dwelt, keeping small state and almost unguarded, but in +wealth and comfort, spending our time in the library of the palace, or +in those of the temples, and when we wearied of work, in the lovely +gardens or, perchance, sailing upon the bosom of the Nile. The lady +Merapi dwelt there also, but in a separate wing of the palace, with +certain slaves and servants whom Seti had given to her. Sometimes we +met her in the gardens, where it pleased her to walk at the same hours +that we did, namely before the sun grew hot, or in the cool of the +evening, and now and again when the moon shone at night. Then the three +of us would talk together, for Seti never sought her company alone or +within walls. + +Those talks were very pleasant. Moreover they grew more frequent as time +went on, since Merapi had a thirst for learning, and the Prince would +bring her rolls to read in a little summer-house there was. Here we +would sit, or if the heat was great, outside beneath the shadow of two +spreading trees that stretched above the roof of the little +pleasure-house, while Seti discoursed of the contents of the rolls and +instructed her in the secrets of our writing. Sometimes, too, I read +them stories of my making, to which it pleased them both to listen, or +so they said, and I, in my vanity, believed. Also we would talk of the +mystery and the wonder of the world and of the Hebrews and their fate, +or of what passed in Egypt and the neighbouring lands. + +Nor was Merapi altogether lonesome, seeing that there dwelt in Memphis +certain ladies who had Hebrew blood in their veins, or were born of the +Israelites and had married Egyptians against their law. Among these she +made friends, and together they worshipped in their own fashion with +none to say them nay, since here no priests were allowed to trouble +them. + +For our part we held intercourse with as many as we pleased, since few +forgot that Seti was by blood the Prince of Egypt, that is, a man +almost half divine, and all were eager to visit him. Also he was much +beloved for his own sake and more particularly by the poor, whose wants +it was his delight to relieve to the full limit of his wealth. Thus it +came about that whenever he went abroad, although against his will, he +was received with honours and homage that were almost royal, for though +Pharaoh could rob him of the Crown he could not empty his veins of the +blood of kings. + +It was on this account that I feared for his safety, since I was sure +that through his spies Amenmeses knew all and would grow jealous of a +dethroned prince who was still so much adored by those over whom of +right he should have ruled. I told Seti of my doubts and that when he +travelled the streets he should be guarded by armed men. But he only +laughed and answered that, as the Hebrews had failed to kill him, he +did not think that any others would succeed. Moreover he believed there +were no Egyptians in the land who would lift a sword against him, or +put poison in his drink, whoever bade them. Also he added these words: + +“The best way to escape death is to have no fear of death, for then +Osiris shuns us.” + +Now I must tell of the happenings at Tanis. Pharaoh Meneptah lingered +but a few hours and never found his mind again before his spirit flew +to Heaven. Then there was great mourning in the land, for, if he was +not loved, Meneptah was honoured and feared. Only among the Israelites +there was open rejoicing, because he had been their enemy and their +prophets had foretold that death was near to him. They gave it out that +he had been smitten of their God, which caused the Egyptians to hate +them more than ever. There was doubt, too, and bewilderment in Egypt, +for though his proclamation disinheriting the Prince Seti had been +published abroad, the people, and especially those who dwelt in the +south, could not understand why this should have been done over a matter +of the shepherd slaves who dwelt in Goshen. Indeed, had the Prince but +held up his hand, tens of thousands would have rallied to his standard. +Yet this he refused to do, which astonished all the world, who thought +it marvellous that any man should refuse a throne which would have +lifted him almost to the level of the gods. Indeed, to avoid their +importunities he had set out at once for Memphis, and there remained +hidden away during the period of mourning for his father. So it came +about that Amenmeses succeeded with none to say him nay, since without +her husband Userti could not or would not act. + +After the days of embalmment were accomplished the body of Pharaoh +Meneptah was carried up the Nile to be laid in his eternal house, the +splendid tomb that he had made ready for himself in the Valley of Dead +Kings at Thebes. To this great ceremony the Prince Seti was not bidden, +lest, as Bakenkhonsu told me afterwards, his presence should cause some +rising in his favour, with or without his will. For this reason also +the dead god, as he was named, was not suffered to rest at Memphis on +his last journey up the Nile. Disguised as a man of the people the +Prince watched his father’s body pass in the funeral barge guarded by +shaven, white-robed priests, the centre of a splendid procession. In +front went other barges filled with soldiers and officers of state, +behind came the new Pharaoh and all the great ones of Egypt, while the +sounds of lamentation floated far over the face of the waters. They +appeared, they passed, they disappeared, and when they had vanished +Seti wept a little, for in his own fashion he loved his father. + +“Of what use is it to be a king and named half-divine, Ana,” he +said to me, “seeing that the end of such gods as these is the same as +that of the beggar at the gate?” + +“This, Prince,” I answered, “that a king can do more good +than a beggar while the breath is in his nostrils, and leave behind him +a great example to others.” + +“Or more harm, Ana. Also the beggar can leave a great example, that of +patience in affliction. Still, if I were sure that I should do nothing +but good, then perhaps I would be a king. But I have noted that those +who desire to do the most good often work the greatest harm.” + +“Which, if followed out, would be an argument for wishing to do evil, +Prince.” + +“Not so,” he answered, “because good triumphs at the last. +For good is truth and truth rules earth and heaven.” + +“Then it is clear, Prince, that you should seek to be a king.” + +“I will remember the argument, Ana, if ever time brings me an +opportunity unstained by blood,” he answered. + +When the obsequies of Pharaoh were finished, Amenmeses returned to +Tanis, and there was crowned as Pharaoh. I attended this great +ceremony, bearing coronation gifts of certain royal ornaments which the +Prince sent to Pharaoh, saying it was not fit that he, as a private +person, should wear them any longer. These I presented to Pharaoh, who +took them doubtfully, declaring that he did not understand the Prince +Seti’s mind and actions. + +“They hide no snare, O Pharaoh,” I said. “As you rejoice in +the glory that the gods have sent you, so the Prince my master rejoices +in the rest and peace which the gods have given him, asking no more.” + +“It may be so, Scribe, but I find this so strange a thing, that +sometimes I fear lest the rich flowers of this glory of mine should +hide some deadly snake, whereof the Prince knows, if he did not set it +there.” + +“I cannot say, O Pharaoh, but without doubt, although he could work no +guile, the Prince is not as are other men. His mind is both wide and +deep.” + +“Too deep for me,” muttered Amenmeses. “Nevertheless, say to +my royal cousin that I thank him for his gifts, especially as some of +them were worn, when he was heir to Egypt, by my father Khaemuas, who I +would had left me his wisdom as well as his blood. Say to him also that +while he refrains from working me harm upon the throne, as I know he +has done up to the present, he may be sure that I will work him none in +the station which he has chosen.” + +Also I saw the Princess Userti who questioned me closely concerning her +lord. I told her everything, keeping naught back. She listened and +asked: + +“What of that Hebrew woman, Moon of Israel? Without doubt she fills my +place.” + +“Not so, Princess,” I answered. “The Prince lives alone. +Neither she nor any other woman fills your place. She is a friend to +him, no more.” + +“A friend! Well, at least we know the end of such friendships. Oh! +surely the Prince must be stricken with madness from the gods!” + +“It may be so, your Highness, but I think that if the gods smote more +men with such madness, the world would be better than it is.” + +“The world is the world, and the business of those who are born to +greatness is to rule it as it is, not to hide away amongst books and +flowers, and to talk folly with a beautiful outland woman, and a scribe +however learned,” she answered bitterly, adding, “Oh! if the Prince +is not mad, certainly he drives others to madness, and me, his spouse, +among them. That throne is his, his; yet he suffers a cross-grained +dolt to take his place, and sends him gifts and blessings.” + +“I think your Highness should wait till the end of the story before +you judge of it.” + +She looked at me sharply, and asked: + +“Why do you say that? Is the Prince no fool after all? Do he and you, +who both seem to be so simple, perchance play a great and hidden game, +as I have known men feign folly in order to do with safety? Or has that +witch of an Israelite some secret knowledge in which she instructs you, +such as a woman who can shatter the statue of Amon to fine dust might +well possess? You make believe not to know, which means that you will +not answer. Oh! Scribe Ana, if only it were safe, I think I could find +a way to wring the truth out of you, although you do pretend to be but +a babe for innocence.” + +“It pleases your Highness to threaten and without cause.” + +“No,” she answered, changing her voice and manner, “I do not +threaten; it is only the madness that I have caught from Seti. Would you +not be mad if you knew that another woman was to be crowned to-morrow +in your place, because—because——” and she began to weep, which +frightened me more than all her rough words. + +Presently she dried her tears, and said: + +“Say to my lord that I rejoice to hear that he is well and send him +greetings, but that never of my own wish will I look upon his living +face again unless indeed he takes another counsel, and sets himself to +win that which is his own. Say to him that though he has so little care +for me, and pays no heed to my desires, still I watch over his welfare +and his safety, as best I may.” + +“His safety, Princess! Pharaoh assured me not an hour ago that he had +naught to fear, as indeed he fears naught.” + +“Oh! which of you is the more foolish,” she exclaimed stamping her +foot, “the man or his master? You believe that the Prince has naught +to fear because that usurper tells you so, and he believes it—well, +because he fears naught. For a little while he may sleep in peace. But +let him wait until troubles of this sort or of that arise in Egypt and, +understanding that the gods send them on account of the great +wickedness that my father wrought when death had him by the throat and +his mind was clouded, the people begin to turn their eyes towards their +lawful king. Then the usurper will grow jealous, and if he has his way, +the Prince will sleep in peace—for ever. If his throat remains uncut, +it will be for one reason only, that I hold back the murderer’s hand. +Farewell, I can talk no more, for I say to you that my brain is +afire—and to-morrow he should have been crowned, and I with him,” +and she swept away, royal as ever, leaving me wondering what she meant +when she spoke of troubles arising in Egypt, or if the words were but +uttered at hazard. + +Afterwards Bakenkhonsu and I supped together at the college of the +temple of Ptah, of which because of his age he was called the father, +when I heard more of this matter. + +“Ana,” he said, “I tell you that such gloom hangs over Egypt +as I have never known even when it was thought that the Ninebow +Barbarians would conquer and enslave the land. Amenmeses will be the +fifth Pharaoh whom I have seen crowned, the first of them when I was +but a little child hanging to my mother’s robe, and not once have I +known such joylessness.” + +“That may be because the crown passes to one who should not wear it, +Bakenkhonsu.” + +He shook his head. “Not altogether. I think this darkness comes from +the heavens as light does. Men are afraid they know not of what.” + +“The Israelites,” I suggested. + +“Now you are near to it, Ana, for doubtless they have much to do with +the matter. Had it not been for them Seti and not Amenmeses would be +crowned to-morrow. Also the tale of the marvel which the beautiful +Hebrew woman wrought in the temple yonder has got abroad and is taken +as an omen. Did I tell you that six days gone a fine new statue of the +god was consecrated there and on the following morning was found lying +on its side, or rather with its head resting on the breast of Mut?” + +“If so, Merapi is blameless, because she has gone away from this +city.” + +“Of course she has gone away, for has not Seti gone also? But I think +she left something behind her. However that may be, even our new divine +lord is afraid. He dreams ill, Ana,” he added, dropping his voice, +“so ill that he has called in Ki, the Kherheb,[1] +to interpret his visions.” + +[1]“Kherheb” was the title of the chief official magician in ancient +Egypt. + +“And what said Ki?” + +“Ki could say nothing or, rather, that the only answer vouchsafed to +him and his company, when they made inquiry of their Kas, was that this +god’s reign would be very short and that it and his life would end +together.” + +“Which perhaps did not please the god Amenmeses, Bakenkhonsu?” + +“Which did not please the god at all. He threatened Ki. It is a +foolish thing to threaten a great magician, Ana, as the Kherheb Ki, +himself indeed told him, looking him in the eyes. Then he prayed his +pardon and asked who would succeed him on the throne, but Ki said he +did not know, as a Kherheb who had been threatened could never remember +anything, which indeed he never can—except to pay back the +threatener.” + +“And did he know, Bakenkhonsu?” + +By way of answer the old Councillor crumbled some bread fine upon the +table, then with his finger traced among the crumbs the rough likeness +of a jackal-headed god and of two feathers, after which with a swift +movement he swept the crumbs onto the floor. + +“Seti!” I whispered, reading the hieroglyphs of the Prince’s +name, and he nodded and laughed in his great fashion. + +“Men come to their own sometimes, Ana, especially if they do not seek +their own,” he said. “But if so, much must happen first that is +terrible. The new Pharaoh is not the only man who dreams, Ana. Of late +years my sleep has been light and sometimes I dream, though I have no +magic like to that of Ki.” + +“What did you dream?” + +“I dreamed of a great multitude marching like locusts over Egypt. +Before them went a column of fire in which were two hands. One of these +held Amon by the throat and one held the new Pharaoh by the throat. +After them came a column of cloud, and in it a shape like to that of an +unwrapped mummy, a shape of death standing upon water that was full of +countless dead.” + +Now I bethought me of the picture that the Prince and I had seen in the +skies yonder in the land of Goshen, but of it I said nothing. Yet I +think that Bakenkhonsu saw into my mind, for he asked: + +“Do _you_ never dream, Friend? You see visions that come +true—Amenmeses on the throne, for instance. Do you not also dream at +times? No? Well, then, the Prince? You look like men who might, and the +time is ripe and pregnant. Oh! I remember. You are both of you +dreaming, not of the pictures that pass across the terrible eyes of Ki, +but of those that the moon reflects upon the waters of Memphis, the +Moon of Israel. Ana, be advised by me, put away the flesh and increase +the spirit, for in it alone is happiness, whereof woman and all our +joys are but earthly symbols, shadows thrown by that mortal cloud which +lies between us and the Light Above. I see that you understand, because +some of that light has struggled to your heart. Do you remember that +you saw it shining in the hour when your little daughter died? Ah! I +thought so. It was the gift she left you, a gift that will grow and grow + in such a breast as yours, if only you will put away the flesh and make +room for it, Ana. Man, do not weep—laugh as I do, Oho-ho! Give me my +staff, and good-night. Forget not that we sit together at the crowning +to-morrow, for you are a King’s Companion and that rank once +conferred is one which no new Pharaoh can take away. It is like the +gift of the spirit, Ana, which is hard to win, but once won more +eternal than the stars. Oh! why do I live so long who would bathe in +it, as when a child I used to bathe in Nile?” + +On the following day at the appointed hour I went to the great hall of +the palace, that in which I had first seen Meneptah, and took my stand +in the place allotted to me. It was somewhat far back, perhaps because +it was not wished that I, who was known to be the private scribe of +Seti, should remind Egypt of him by appearing where all could see me. + +Great as was the hall the crowd filled it to its furthest corners. +Moreover no common man was present there, but rather every noble and +head-priest in Egypt, and with them their wives and daughters, so that +all the dim courts shone with gold and precious gems set upon festal +garments. While I was waiting old Bakenkhonsu hobbled towards me, the +crowd making way for him, and I could see that there was laughter in +his sunken eyes. + +“We are ill-placed, Ana,” he said. “Still if any of the many +gods there are in Egypt should chance to rain fires on Pharaoh, we shall +be the safer. Talking of gods,” he went on in a whisper, “have you +heard what happened an hour ago in the temple of Ptah of Tanis whence I +have just come? Pharaoh and all the Blood-royal—save one—walked +according to custom before the statue of the god which, as you know, +should bow its head to show that he chooses and accepts the king. In +front of Amenmeses went the Princess Userti, and as she passed the head +of the god bowed, for I saw it, though all pretended that they did not +see. Then came Pharaoh and stood waiting, but it would not bow, though +the priests called in the old formula, ‘The god greets the king.’ + +“At length he went on, looking as black as night, and others of the +blood of Rameses followed in their order. Last of all limped Saptah +and, behold! the god bowed again.” + +“How and why does it do these things?” I asked, “and at the +wrong time?” + +“Ask the priests, Ana, or Userti, or Saptah. Perhaps the divine neck +has not been oiled of late, or too much oiled, or too little oiled, or +prayers—or strings—may have gone wrong. Or Pharaoh may have been +niggard in his gifts to that college of the great god of his House. Who +am I that I should know the ways of gods? That in the temple where I +served at Thebes fifty years ago did not pretend to bow or to trouble +himself as to which of the royal race sat upon the throne. Hush! Here +comes Pharaoh.” + +Then in a splendid procession, surrounded by princes, councillors, +ladies, priests, and guards, Amenmeses and the Royal Wife, Urnure, a +large woman who walked awkwardly, entered the hall, a glittering band. +The high-priest, Roi, and the chancellor, Nehesi, received Pharaoh and +led him to his throne. The multitude prostrated itself, trumpets blew +and thrice the old salute of “Life! Blood! Strength! Pharaoh! +Pharaoh! Pharaoh!” was cried aloud. + +Amenmeses rose and bowed, and I saw that his heavy face was troubled and +looked older. Then he swore some oath to gods and men which Roi +dictated to him, and before all the company put on the double crown and +the other emblems, and took in his hands the scourge and golden sickle. +Next homage was paid. The Princess Userti came first and kissed +Pharaoh’s hand, but bent no knee. Indeed first she spoke with him a +while. We could not hear what was said, but afterwards learned that she +demanded that he should publicly repeat all the promises which her +father Meneptah had made to her before him, confirming her in her place +and rights. This in the end he did, though it seemed to me unwillingly +enough. + +So with many forms and ancient celebrations the ceremony went on, till +all grew weary waiting for that time when Pharaoh should make his +speech to the people. That speech, however, was never made, for +presently, thrusting past us, I saw those two prophets of the +Israelites who had visited Meneptah in this same hall. Men shrank from +them, so that they walked straight up to the throne, nor did even the +guards strive to bar their way. What they said there I could not hear, +but I believe that they demanded that their people should be allowed to +go to worship their god in their own fashion, and that Amenmeses refused +as Meneptah had done. + +Then one of them cast down a rod and it turned to a snake which hissed +at Pharaoh, whereon the Kherheb Ki and his company also cast down rods +that turned to snakes, though I could only hear the hissing. After this +a great gloom fell upon the hall, so that men could not see each +other’s faces and everyone began to call aloud till the company broke +up in confusion. Bakenkhonsu and I were borne together to the doorway +by the pressure of the people, whence we were glad enough to see the +sky again. + +Thus ended the crowning of Amenmeses. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +THE MESSAGE OF JABEZ + + +That night there were none who rejoiced in the streets of the city, and +save in the palace and houses of those of the Court, none who feasted. +I walked abroad in the market-place and noted the people going to and +fro gloomily, or talking together in whispers. Presently a man whose +face was hidden in a hood began to speak with me, saying that he had a +message for my master, the Prince Seti. I answered that I took no +messages from veiled strangers, whereon he threw back his hood, and I +saw that it was Jabez, the uncle of Merapi. I asked him whether he had +obeyed the Prince, and borne the body of that prophet back to Goshen and + told the elders of the manner of the man’s death. + +“Yes,” he answered, “nor were the Elders angry with the +Prince over this matter. They said that their messenger had exceeded his +authority, since they had never told him to curse Merapi, and much less +attempt to kill her, and that the Prince did right to slay one who +would have done murder before his royal eyes. Still they added that the +curse, having once been spoken by this priest, would surely fall upon +Merapi in this way or in that.” + +“What then should she do, Jabez?” + +“I do not know, Scribe. If she returns to her people, perchance she +will be absolved, but then she must surely marry Laban. It is for her +to judge.” + +“And what would you do if you were in her place, Jabez?” + +“I think that I should stay where I was, and make myself very dear to +Seti, taking the chance that the curse may pass her by, since it was not +lawfully decreed upon her. Whichever way she looks, trouble waits, and +at the worst, a woman might wish to satisfy her heart before it falls, +especially if that heart should happen to turn to one who will be +Pharaoh.” + +“Why do you say ‘who will be Pharaoh,’ Jabez?” I asked, +for we were standing in an empty place alone. + +“That I may not tell you,” he replied cunningly, “yet it will +come about as I say. He who sits upon the throne is mad as Meneptah was +mad, and will fight against a strength that is greater than his until +it overwhelms him. In the Prince’s heart alone does the light of +wisdom shine. That which you saw to-day is only the first of many +miracles, Scribe Ana. I can say no more.” + +“What then is your message, Jabez?” + +“This: Because the Prince has striven to deal well with the people of +Israel and for their sake has cast aside a crown, whatever may chance to +others, let him fear nothing. No harm shall come to him, or to those +about him, such as yourself, Scribe Ana, who also would deal justly by +us. Yet it may happen that through my niece Merapi, on whose head the +evil word has fallen, a great sorrow may come to both him and her. +Therefore, perhaps, although setting this against that, she may be wise +to stay in the house of Seti, he, on the balance, may be wise to turn +her from his doors.” + +“What sorrow?” I asked, who grew bewildered with his dark talk, but +there was no answer, for he had gone. + +Near to my lodging another man met me, and the moonlight shining on his +face showed me the terrible eyes of Ki. + +“Scribe Ana,” he said, “you leave for Memphis to-morrow at +the dawn, and not two days hence as you purposed.” + +“How do you know that, Magician Ki?” I answered, for I had told my +change of plan to none, not even to Bakenkhonsu, having indeed only +determined upon it since Jabez left me. + +“I know nothing, Ana, save that a faithful servant who has learned all +you have learned to-day will hurry to make report of it to his master, +especially if there is some other to whom he would also wish to make +report, as Bakenkhonsu thinks.” + +“Bakenkhonsu talks too much, whatever he may think,” I exclaimed +testily. + +“The aged grow garrulous. You were at the crowning to-day, were you +not?” + +“Yes, and if I saw aright from far away, those Hebrew prophets seemed +to worst you at your own trade there, Kherheb, which must grieve you, +as you were grieved in the temple when Amon fell.” + +“It does not grieve me, Ana. If I have powers, there may be others who +have greater powers, as I learned in the temple of Amon. Why therefore +should I feel ashamed?” + +“Powers!” I replied with a laugh, for the strings of my mind seemed +torn that night, “would not craft be a better word? How do you turn a +stick into a snake, a thing which is impossible to man?” + +“Craft might be a better word, since craft means knowledge as well as +trickery. ‘Impossible to man!’ After what you saw a while ago in +the temple of Amon, do you hold that there is anything impossible to man +or woman? Perhaps you could do as much yourself.” + +“Why do you mock me, Ki? I study books, not snake-charming.” + +He looked at me in his calm fashion, as though he were reading, not my +face, but the thoughts behind it. Then he looked at the cedar wand in +his hand and gave it to me, saying: + +“Study this, Ana, and tell me, what is it.” + +“Am I a child,” I answered angrily, “that I should not know a +priest’s rod when I see one?” + +“I think that you are something of a child, Ana,” he murmured, all +the while keeping those eyes of his fixed upon my face. + +Then a horror came about. For the rod began to twist in my hand and when +I stared at it, lo! it was a long, yellow snake which I held by the +tail. I threw the reptile down with a scream, for it was turning its +head as though to strike me, and there in the dust it twisted and +writhed away from me and towards Ki. Yet an instant later it was only a +stick of yellow cedar-wood, though between me and Ki there was a +snake’s track in the sand. + +“It is somewhat shameless of you, Ana,” said Ki, as he lifted the +wand, “to reproach me with trickery while you yourself try to confound +a poor juggler with such arts as these.” + +Then I know not what I said to him, save the end of it was that I +supposed he would tell me next that I could fill a hall with darkness +at noonday and cover a multitude with terror. + +“Let us have done with jests,” he said, “though these are +well enough in their place. Will you take this rod again and point it to +the moon? You refuse and you do well, for neither you nor I can cover +up her face. Ana, because you are wise in your way and consort with one +who is wiser, and were present in the temple when the statue of Amon +was shattered by a certain witch who matched her strength against mine +and conquered me, I, the great magician, have come to ask +_you_—whence came that darkness in the hall to-day?” + +“From God, I think,” I answered in an awed whisper. + +“So I think also, Ana. But tell me, or ask Merapi, Moon of Israel, to +tell me—from what god? Oh! I say to you that a terrible power is afoot +in this land and that the Prince Seti did well to refuse the throne of +Egypt and to fly to Memphis. Repeat it to him, Ana.” + +Then he too was gone. + +Now I returned in safety to Memphis and told all these tidings to the +Prince, who listened to them eagerly. Once only was he greatly stirred; +it was when I repeated to him the words of Userti, that never would she +look upon his face again unless it pleased him to turn it towards the +throne. On hearing this tears came into his eyes, and rising, he walked +up and down the chamber. + +“The fallen must not look for gentleness,” he said, “and +doubtless, Ana, you think it folly that I should grieve because I am +thus deserted.” + +“Nay, Prince, for I too have been abandoned by a wife and the pain is +unforgotten.” + +“It is not of the wife I think, Ana, since in truth her Highness is no +wife to me. For whatever may be the ancient laws of Egypt, how could it +happen otherwise, at any rate in my case and hers? It is of the sister. +For though my mother was not hers, she and I were brought up together +and in our way loved each other, though always it was her pleasure to +lord it over me, as it was mine to submit and pay her back in jests. +That is why she is so angry because now of a sudden I have thrown off +her rule to follow my own will whereby she has lost the throne.” + +“It has always been the duty of the royal heiress of Egypt to marry +the Pharaoh of Egypt, Prince, and having wed one who would be Pharaoh +according to that duty, the blow cuts deep.” + +“Then she had best thrust aside that foolish wife of his and wed him +who is Pharaoh. But that she will never do; Amenmeses she has always +hated, so much that she loathed to be in the same place with him. Nor +indeed would he wed her, who wishes to rule for himself, not through a +woman whose title to the crown is better than his own. Well, she has +put me away and there’s an end. Henceforth I must go lonely, +unless—unless——Continue your story, friend. It is kind of her in +her greatness to promise to protect one so humble. I should remember +that, although it is true that fallen heads sometimes rise again,” he +added bitterly. + +“So at least Jabez thinks, Prince,” and I told him how the +Israelites were sure that he would be Pharaoh, whereat he laughed and +said: + +“Perhaps, for they are good prophets. For my part I neither know or +care. Or maybe Jabez sees advantage in talking thus, for as you know he +is a clever trader.” + +“I do not think so,” I answered and stopped. + +“Had Jabez more to say of any other matter, Ana? Of the lady Merapi, +for instance?” + +Now feeling it to be my duty, I told him every word that had passed +between Jabez and myself, though somewhat shamefacedly. + +“This Hebrew takes much for granted, Ana, even as to whom the Moon of +Israel would wish to shine upon. Why, friend, it might be you whom she +desires to touch with her light, or some youth in Goshen—not +Laban—or no one.” + +“Me, Prince, me!” I exclaimed. + +“Well, Ana, I am sure you would have it so. Be advised by me and ask +her mind upon the matter. Look not so confused, man, for one who has +been married you are too modest. Come tell me of this Crowning.” + +So glad enough to escape from the matter of Merapi, I spoke at length of +all that had happened when Pharaoh Amenmeses took his seat upon the +throne. When I described how the rod of the Hebrew prophet had been +turned to a snake and how Ki and his company had done likewise, the +Prince laughed and said that these were mere jugglers’ tricks. But +when I told of the darkness that had seemed to gather in the hall and +of the gloom that filled the hearts of all men and of the awesome dream +of Bakenkhonsu, also of the words of Ki after he had clouded my mind +and played his jest upon me, he listened with much earnestness and +answered: + +“My mind is as Ki’s in this matter. I too think that a terrible +power is afoot in Egypt, one that has its home in the land of Goshen, +and that I did well to refuse the throne. But from what god these +fortunes come I do not know. Perhaps time will tell us. Meanwhile if +there is aught in the prophesies of these Hebrews, as interpreted by +Jabez, at least you and I may sleep in peace, which is more than will +chance to Pharaoh on the throne that Userti covets. If so, this play +will be worth the watching. You have done your mission well, Ana. Go +rest you while I think over all that you have said.” + +It was evening and as the palace was very hot I went into the garden and +making my way to that little pleasure-house where Seti and I were wont +to study, I sat myself down there and, being weary, fell asleep. When I +awoke from a dream about some woman who was weeping, night had fallen +and the full moon shone in the sky, so that its rays fell on the garden +before me. + +Now in front of this little house, as I have said, grew trees that at +this season of the year were covered with white and cup-like blossoms, +and between these trees was a seat built up of sun-dried bricks. On +this seat sat a woman whom I knew from her shape to be Merapi. Also she +was sad, for although her head was bowed and her long hair hid her face +I could hear her gentle sighs. + +The sight of her moved me very much and I remembered what the Prince had +said to me, telling me that I should do well to ask this lady whether +she had any mind my way. Therefore if I did so, surely I could not be +blamed. Yet I was certain that it was not to me that her heart turned, +though to speak the truth, much I wished it otherwise. Who would look +at the ibis in the swamp when the wide-winged eagle floated in heaven +above? + +An evil thought came into my mind, sent by Set. Suppose that this +watcher’s eyes were fixed upon the eagle, lord of the air. Suppose +that she worshipped this eagle; that she loved it because its home was +heaven, because to her it was the king of all the birds. And suppose +one told her that if she lured it down to earth from the glorious +safety of the skies, she would bring it to captivity or death at the +hand of the snarer. Then would not that loving watcher say: “Let it +go free and happy, however much I long to look upon it,” and when it +had sailed from sight, perhaps turn her eyes to the humble ibis in the +mud? + +Jabez had told me that if this woman and the Prince grew dear to each +other she would bring great sorrow on his head. If I repeated his words +to her, she who had faith in the prophecies of her people would +certainly believe them. Moreover, whatever her heart might prompt, +being so high-natured, never would she consent to do what might bring +trouble on Seti’s head, even if to refuse him should sink her soul in +sorrow. Nor would she return to the Hebrews there to fall into the +hands of one she hated. Then perhaps I——. Should I tell her? If +Jabez had not meant that the matter must be brought to her ears, would +he have spoken of it at all? In short was it not my duty to her, and +perhaps also to the Prince who thereby might be saved from miseries to +come, that is if this talk of future troubles were anything more than an +idle story. + +Such was the evil reasoning with which Set assailed my spirit. How I +beat it down I do not know. Not by my own goodness, I am sure, since at +the moment I was aflame with love for the sweet and beautiful lady who +sat before me and in my foolishness would, I think, have given my life +to kiss her hand. Not altogether for her sake either, since passion is +very selfish. No, I believe it was because the love that I bore the +Prince was more deep and real than that which I could feel for any +woman, and I knew well that were she not in my sight no such treachery +would have overcome my heart. For I was sure, although he had never +said so to me, that Seti loved Merapi and above all earthly things +desired her as his companion, while if once I spoke those words, +whatever my own gain or loss and whatever her secret wish, that she +would never be. + +So I conquered, though the victory left me trembling like a child, and +wishing that I had not been born to know the pangs of love denied. My +reward was very swift, for just then Merapi unfastened a gem from the +breast of her white robe and held it towards the moon, as though to +study it. In an instant I knew it again. It was that royal scarab of +lapis-lazuli with which in Goshen the Prince had made fast the bandage +on her wounded foot, which also had been snatched from her breast by +some power on that night when the statue of Amon was shattered in the +temple. + +Long and earnestly she looked at it, then having glanced round to make +sure she was alone, she pressed it to her lips and kissed it thrice +with passion, muttering I know not what between the kisses. Now the +scales fell from my eyes and I knew that she loved Seti, and oh! how I +thanked my guardian god who had saved me from such useless shame. + +I wiped the cold damp from my brow and was about to flee away, +discovering myself with as few words as might be, when, looking up, I +saw standing behind Merapi the figure of a man, who was watching her +replace the ornament in her robe. While I hesitated a moment the man +spoke and I knew the voice for that of Seti. Then again I thought of +flight, but being somewhat timid by nature, feared to show myself until +it was too late, thinking that afterward the Prince would make me the +target of his wit. So I sat close and still, hearing and seeing all +despite myself. + +“What gem is that, Lady, which you admire and cherish so tenderly?” +asked Seti in his slow voice that so often hid a hint of laughter. + +She uttered a little scream and springing up, saw him. + +“Oh! my lord,” she exclaimed, “pardon your servant. I was +sitting here in the cool, as you gave me leave to do, and the moon was +so bright—that—I wished to see if by it I could read the writing on +this scarab.” + +Never before, thought I to myself, did I know one who read with her +lips, though it is true that first she used her eyes. + +“And could you, Lady? Will you suffer me to try?” + +Very slowly and colouring, so that even the moonlight showed her +blushes, she withdrew the ornament again and held it towards him. + +“Surely this is familiar to me? Have I not seen it before?” he +asked. + +“Perhaps. I wore it that night in the temple, your Highness.” + +“You must not name me Highness, Lady. I have no longer any rank in +Egypt.” + +“I know—because of—my people. Oh! it was noble.” + +“But about the scarabæus——” he broke in, with a wave +of his hand. “Surely it is the same with which the bandage was made +fast upon your hurt—oh! years ago?” + +“Yes, it is the same,” she answered, looking down. + +“I thought it. And when I gave it to you, I said some words that +seemed to me well spoken at the time. What were they? I cannot +remember. Have you also forgotten?” + +“Yes—I mean—no. You said that now I had all Egypt beneath my +foot, speaking of the royal cartouche upon the scarab.” + +“Ah! I recall. How true, and yet how false the jest, or prophecy.” + +“How can anything be both true and false, Prince?” + +“That I could prove to you very easily, but it would take an hour or +more, so it shall be for another time. This scarab is a poor thing, give +it back to me and you shall have a better. Or would you choose this +signet? As I am no longer Prince of Egypt it is useless to me.” + +“Keep the scarab, Prince. It is your own. But I will not take the ring +because it is——” + +“——useless to me, and you would not have that which is +without value to the giver. Oh! I string words ill, but they were not +what I meant.” + +“No, Prince, because your royal ring is too large for one so small.” + +“How can you tell until you have tried? Also that is a fault which +might perhaps be mended.” + +Then he laughed, and she laughed also, but as yet she did not take the +ring. + +“Have you seen Ana?” he went on. “I believe he set out to +search for you, in such a hurry indeed that he could scarcely finish his +report to me.” + +“Did he say that?” + +“No, he only looked it. So much so that I suggested he should seek you +at once. He answered that he was going to rest after his long journey, +or perhaps I said that he ought to do so. I forget, as often one does, +on so beauteous a night when other thoughts seem nearer.” + +“Why did Ana wish to see me, Prince?” + +“How can I tell? Why does a man who is still young—want to see a +sweet and beautiful lady? Oh! I remember. He had met your uncle at Tanis +who inquired as to your health. Perhaps that is why he wanted to see +you.” + +“I do not wish to hear about my uncle at Tanis. He reminds me of too +many things that give pain, and there are nights when one wishes to +escape pain, which is sure to be found again on the morrow.” + +“Are you still of the same mind about returning to your people?” he +asked, more earnestly. + +“Surely. Oh! do not say that you will send me hence +to——” + +“Laban, Lady?” + +“Laban amongst others. Remember, Prince, that I am one under a curse. +If I return to Goshen, in this way or in that, soon I shall die.” + +“Ana says that your uncle Jabez declares that the mad fellow who tried +to murder you had no authority to curse and much less to kill you. You +must ask him to tell you all.” + +“Yet the curse will cling and crush me at the last. How can I, one +lonely woman, stand against the might of the people of Israel and their +priests?” + +“Are you then lonely?” + +“How can it be otherwise with an outcast, Prince?” + +“No, it cannot be otherwise. I know it who am also an outcast.” + +“At least there is her Highness your wife, who doubtless will come to +comfort you,” she said, looking down. + +“Her Highness will not come. If you had seen Ana, he would perhaps +have told you that she has sworn not to look upon my face again, unless +above it shines a crown.” + +“Oh! how can a woman be so cruel? Surely, Prince, such a stab must cut +you to the heart,” she exclaimed, with a little cry of pity. + +“Her Highness is not only a woman; she is a Princess of Egypt which is +different. For the rest it does cut me to the heart that my royal sister +should have deserted me, for that which she loves better—power and +pomp. But so it is, unless Ana dreams. It seems therefore that we are +in the same case, both outcasts, you and I, is it not so?” + +She made no answer but continued to look upon the ground, and he went on +very slowly: + +“A thought comes into my mind on which I would ask your judgment. If +two who are forlorn came together they would be less forlorn by half, +would they not?” + +“It would seem so, Prince—that is if they remained forlorn at all. +But I do not understand the riddle.” + +“Yet you have answered it. If you are lonely and I am lonely apart, we +should, you say, be less lonely together.” + +“Prince,” she murmured, shrinking away from him, “I spoke no +such words.” + +“No, I spoke them for you. Hearken to me, Merapi. They think me a +strange man in Egypt because I have held no woman dear, never having +seen one whom I could hold dear.” Here she looked at him searchingly, +and he went on, “A while ago, before I visited your land of +Goshen—Ana can tell you about the matter, for I think he wrote it +down—Ki and old Bakenkhonsu came to see me. Now, as you know, Ki is +without doubt a great magician, though it would seem not so great as +some of your prophets. He told me that he and others had been searching +out my future and that in Goshen I should find a woman whom it was +fated I must love. He added that this woman would bring me much joy.” +Here Seti paused, doubtless remembering this was not all that Ki had +said, or Jabez either. “Ki told me also,” he went on slowly, +“that I had already known this woman for thousands of years.” + +She started and a strange look came into her face. + +“How can that be, Prince?” + +“That is what I asked him and got no good answer. Still he said it, +not only of the woman but of my friend Ana as well, which indeed would +explain much, and it would appear that the other magicians said it +also. Then I went to the land of Goshen and there I saw a +woman——” + +“For the first time, Prince?” + +“No, for the third time.” + +Here she sank upon the bench and covered her eyes with her hands. + +“——and loved her, and felt as though I had loved her for +‘thousands of years.’” + +“It is not true. You mock me, it is not true!” she whispered. + +“It is true for if I did not know it then, I knew it afterwards, +though never perhaps completely until to-day, when I learned that +Userti had deserted me indeed. Moon of Israel, you are that woman. I +will not tell you,” he went on passionately, “that you are fairer +than all other women, or sweeter, or more wise, though these things you +seem to me. I will only tell you that I love you, yes, love you, +whatever you may be. I cannot offer you the Throne of Egypt, even if +the law would suffer it, but I can offer you the throne of this heart +of mine. Now, Lady Merapi, what have you to say? Before you speak, +remember that although you seem to be my prisoner here at Memphis, you +have naught to fear from me. Whatever you may answer, such shelter and +such friendship as I can give will be yours while I live, and never +shall I attempt to force myself upon you, however much it may pain me +to pass you by. I know not the future. It may happen that I shall give +you great place and power, it may happen that I shall give you nothing +but poverty and exile, or even perhaps a share in my own death, but +with either will go the worship of my body and my spirit. Now, +speak.” + +She dropped her hands from her face, looking up at him, and there were +tears shining in her beautiful eyes. + +“It cannot be, Prince,” she murmured. + +“You mean you do not wish it to be?” + +“I said that it cannot be. Such ties between an Egyptian and an +Israelite are not lawful.” + +“Some in this city and elsewhere seem to find them so.” + +“And I am married, I mean perhaps I am married—at least in +name.” + +“And I too am married, I mean——” + +“That is different. Also there is another reason, the greatest of all, +I am under a curse, and should bring you, not joy as Ki said, but +sorrow, or, at the least, sorrow with the joy.” + +He looked at her searchingly. + +“Has Ana——” he began, then continued, “if so what +lives have you known that are not compounded of mingled joy and +sorrow?” + +“None. But the woe I should bring would outweigh the joy—to you. +The curse of my God rests upon me and I cannot learn to worship yours. +The curse of my people rests upon me, the law of my people divides me +from you as with a sword, and should I draw close to you these will be +increased upon my head, which matters not, but also upon yours,” and +she began to sob. + +“Tell me,” he said, taking her by the hand, “but one thing, +and if the answer is No, I will trouble you no more. Is your heart +mine?” + +“It is,” she sighed, “and has been ever since my eyes fell +upon you yonder in the streets of Tanis. Oh! then a change came into me +and I hated Laban, whom before I had only misliked. Moreover, I too +felt that of which Ki spoke, as though I had known you for thousands of +years. My heart is yours, my love is yours; all that makes me woman is +yours, and never, never can turn from you to any other man. But still +we must stay apart, for your sake, my Prince, for your sake.” + +“Then, were it not for me, you would be ready to run these hazards?” + +“Surely! Am I not a woman who loves?” + +“If that be so,” he said with a little laugh, “being of full +age and of an understanding which some have thought good, by your leave +I think I will run them also. Oh! foolish woman, do you not understand +that there is but one good thing in the world, one thing in which self +and its miseries can be forgot, and that thing is love? Mayhap troubles +will come. Well, let them come, for what do they matter if only the +love or its memory remains, if once we have picked that beauteous +flower and for an hour worn it on our breasts. You talk of the +difference between the gods we worship and maybe it exists, but all +gods send their gifts of love upon the earth, without which it would +cease to be. Moreover, my faith teaches me more clearly perhaps than +yours, that life does not end with death and therefore that love, being +life’s soul, must endure while it endures. Last of all, I think, as +you think, that in some dim way there is truth in what the magicians +said, and that long ago in the past we have been what once more we are +about to be, and that the strength of this invisible tie has drawn us +together out of the whole world and will bind us together long after +the world is dead. It is not a matter of what we wish to do, Merapi, it +is a matter of what Fate has decreed we shall do. Now, answer again.” + +But she made no answer, and when I looked up after a little moment she +was in his arms and her lips were upon his lips. + +Thus did Prince Seti of Egypt and Merapi, Moon of Israel, come together +at Memphis in Egypt. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +THE RED NILE + + +On the morrow of this night I found the Prince alone for a little while, +and put him in mind of certain ancient manuscripts that he wished to +read, which could only be consulted at Thebes where I might copy them; +also of others that were said to be for sale there. He answered that +they could wait, but I replied that the latter might find some other +purchaser if I did not go at once. + +“You are over fond of long journeys upon my business, Ana,” he +said. Then he considered me curiously for a while, and since he could +read my mind, as indeed I could his, saw that I knew all, and added in +a gentle voice: + +“You should have done as I told you, and spoken first. If so, who +knows——” + +“You do, Prince,” I answered, “you and another.” + +“Go, and the gods be with you, friend, but stay not too long copying +those rolls, which any scribe can do. I think there is trouble at hand +in Egypt, and I shall need you at my side. Another who holds you dear +will need you also.” + +“I thank my lord and that other,” I said, bowing, and went. + +Moreover, while I was making some humble provision for my journey, I +found that this was needless, since a slave came to tell me that the +Prince’s barge was waiting to sail with the wind. So in that barge I +travelled to Thebes like a great noble, or a royal mummy being borne to +burial. Only instead of wailing priests, until I sent them back to +Memphis, musicians sat upon the prow, and when I willed, dancing girls +came to amuse my leisure and, veiled in golden nets, to serve at my +table. + +So I journeyed as though I were the Prince himself, and as one who was +known to have his ear was made much of by the governors of the Nomes, +the chief men of the towns, and the high priests of the temples at +every city where we moored. For, as I have said, although Amenmeses sat +upon the throne, Seti still ruled in the hearts of the folk of Egypt. +Moreover, as I sailed further up the Nile to districts where little was +known of the Israelites, and the troubles they were bringing on the +land, I found this to be so more and more. Why is it, the Great Ones +would whisper in my ear, that his Highness the Prince Seti does not +hold his father’s place? Then I would tell them of the Hebrews, and +they would laugh and say: + +“Let the Prince unfurl his royal banner here, and we will show him +what we think of the question of these Israelitish slaves. May not the +Heir of Egypt form his own judgment on such a matter as to whether they +should abide there in the north, or go away into that wilderness which +they desire?” + +To all of which, and much like it, I would only answer that their words +should be reported. More I did not, and indeed did not dare to say, +since everywhere I found that I was being followed and watched by the +spies of Pharaoh. + +At length I came to Thebes and took up my abode in a fine house that was +the property of the Prince, which I found that a messenger had +commanded should be made ready for me. It stood near by the entrance to +the Avenue of Sphinxes, which leads to the greatest of all the Theban +temples, where is that mighty columned hall built by the first Seti and +his son, Rameses II, the Prince’s grandfather. + +Here, having entrance to the place, I would often wander at night, and +in my spirit draw as near to heaven as ever it has been my lot to +travel. Also, crossing the Nile to the western bank, I visited that +desolate valley where the rulers of Egypt lie at rest. The tomb of +Pharaoh Meneptah was still unsealed, and accompanied by a single priest +with torches, I crept down its painted halls and looked upon the +sarcophagus of him whom so lately I had seen seated in glory upon the +throne, wondering, as I looked, how much or how little he knew of all +that passed in Egypt to-day. + +Moreover, I copied the papyri that I had come to seek, in which there +was nothing worth preserving, and some of real value that I discovered +in the ancient libraries of the temples, and purchased others. One of +these indeed told a very strange tale that has given me much cause for +thought, especially of late years now when all my friends are dead. + +Thus I spent two months, and should have stayed longer had not +messengers reached me from the Prince saying that he desired my return. +Of these, one followed within three days of the other, and his words +were: + +“Think you, Scribe Ana, that because I am no more Prince of Egypt I am +no longer to be obeyed? If so, bear in mind that the gods may decree +that one day I shall grow taller than ever I was before, and then be +sure that I will remember your disobedience, and make you shorter by a +head. Come swiftly, my friend, for I grow lonely, and need a man to +talk with.” + +To which I replied, that I returned as fast as the barge would carry me, +being so heavily laden with the manuscripts that I had copied and +purchased. + +So I started, being, to tell truth, glad to get away, for this reason. +Two nights before, when I was walking alone from the great temple of +the house, a woman dressed in many colours appeared and accosted me as +such lost ones do. I tried to shake her off, but she clung to me, and I +saw that she had drunk more than enough of wine. Presently she asked, +in a voice that I thought familiar, if I knew who was the officer that +had come to Thebes on the business of some Royal One and abode in the +dwelling that was known as House of the Prince. I answered that his +name was Ana. + +“Once I knew an Ana very well,” she said, “but I left +him.” + +“Why?” I asked, turning cold in my limbs, for although I could not +see her face because of a hood she wore, now I began to be afraid. + +“Because he was a poor fool,” she answered, “no man at all, +but one who was always thinking about writings and making them, and +another came my way whom I liked better until he deserted me.” + +“And what happened to this Ana?” I asked. + +“I do not know. I suppose he went on dreaming, or perhaps he took +another wife; if so, I am sorry for her. Only, if by chance it is the +same that has come to Thebes, he must be wealthy now, and I shall go +and claim him and make him keep me well.” + +“Had you any children?” I asked. + +“Only one, thank the gods, and that died—thank the gods again, for +otherwise it might have lived to be such as I am,” and she sobbed once +in a hard fashion and then fell to her vile endearments. + +As she did so, the hood slipped from her head and I saw that the face +was that of my wife, still beauteous in a bold fashion, but grown +dreadful with drink and sin. I trembled from head to foot, then said in +the disguised voice that I had used to her. + +“Woman, I know this Ana. He is dead and you were his ruin. Still, +because I was his friend, take this and go reform your ways,” and I +drew from my robe and gave to her a bag containing no mean weight of +gold. + +She snatched it as a hawk snatches, and seeing its contents by the +starlight, thanked me, saying: + +“Surely Ana dead is worth more than Ana alive. Also it is well that he +is dead, for he is gone where the child went, which he loved more than +life, neglecting me for its sake and thereby making me what I am. Had +he lived, too, being as I have said a fool, he would have had more +ill-luck with women, whom he never understood. Farewell, friend of Ana, +who have given me that which will enable me to find another husband,” +and laughing wildly she reeled off behind a sphinx and vanished into +the darkness. + +For this reason, then, I was glad to escape from Thebes. Moreover, that +miserable one had hurt me sorely, making me sure of what I had only +guessed, namely, that with women I was but a fool, so great a fool that +then and there I swore by my guardian god that never would I look with +love on one of them again, an oath which I have kept well whatever +others I may have broken. Again she stabbed me through with the talk of +our dead child, for it is true that when that sweet one took flight to +Osiris my heart broke and in a fashion has never mended itself again. +Lastly, I feared lest it might also be true that I had neglected the +mother for the sake of this child which was the jewel of my worship, +yes, and is, and thereby helped her on to shame. So much did this +thought torment me that through an agent whom I trusted, who believed +that I was but providing for one whom I had wronged, I caused enough to +be paid to her to keep her in comfort. + +She did marry again, a merchant about whom she had cast her toils, and +in due course spent his wealth and brought him to ruin, after which he +ran away from her. As for her, she died of her evil habits in the third +year of the reign of Seti II. But, the gods be thanked she never knew +that the private scribe of Pharaoh’s chamber was that Ana who had +been her husband. Here I will end her story. + +Now as I was passing down the Nile with a heart more heavy than the +great stone that served as anchor on the barge, we moored at dusk on +the third night by the side of a vessel that was sailing up Nile with a +strong northerly wind. On board this boat was an officer whom I had +known at the Court of Pharaoh Meneptah, travelling to Thebes on duty. +This man seemed so much afraid that I asked him if anything weighed +upon his mind. Then he took me aside into a palm grove upon the bank, +and seating himself on the pole whereby oxen turned a waterwheel, told +me that strange things were passing at Tanis. + +It seemed that the Hebrew prophets had once more appeared before +Pharaoh, who since his accession had left the Israelites in peace, not +attacking them with the sword as Meneptah had wished to do, it was +thought through fear lest if he did so he should die as Meneptah died. +As before, they had put up their prayer that the people of the Hebrews +should be suffered to go to worship in the wilderness, and Pharaoh had +refused them. Then when he went down to sail upon the river early in +the morning of another day, they had met him and one of them struck the +water with his rod, and it had turned to blood. Whereon Ki and Kherheb +and his company also struck the water with their rods, and it turned to +blood. That was six days ago, and now this officer swore to me that the +blood was creeping up the Nile, a tale at which I laughed. + +“Come then and see,” he said, and led me back to his boat, where +all the crew seemed as fearful as he was himself. + +He took me forward to a great water jar that stood upon the prow and, +behold! it seemed to be full of blood, and in it was a fish dead, +and—stinking. + +“This water,” said he, “I drew from the Nile with my own +hands, not five hours sail to the north. But now we have outsped the +blood, which follows after us,” and taking a lamp he held it over the +prow of the boat and I saw that all its planks were splashed as though +with blood. + +“Be advised by me, learned scribe,” he added, “and fill every +jar and skin that you can gather with sweet water, lest to-morrow you +and your company should go thirsty,” and he laughed a very dreary +laugh. + +Then we parted without more words, for neither of us knew what to say, +and about midnight he sailed on with the wind, taking his chance of +grounding on the sandbanks in the darkness. + +For my part I did as he bade me, though my rowers who had not spoken +with his men, thought that I was mad to load up the barge with so much +water. + +At the first break of day I gave the order to start. Looking over the +side of the barge it seemed to me as though the lights of dawn had +fallen from the sky into the Nile whereof the water had become +pink-hued. Moreover, this hue, which grew ever deeper, was travelling +up stream, not down, against the course of nature, and could not +therefore have been caused by red soil washed from the southern lands. +The bargemen stared and muttered together. Then one of them, leaning +over the side, scooped up water in the hollow of his hand and drew some +into his mouth, only to spit it out again with a cry of fear. + +“’Tis blood,” he cried. “Blood! Osiris has been slain +afresh, and his holy blood fills the banks of Nile.” + +So much were they afraid, indeed, that had I not forced them to hold to +their course they would have turned and rowed up stream, or beached the +boat and fled into the desert. But I cried to them to steer on +northwards, for thus perhaps we should sooner be done with this horror, +and they obeyed me. Ever as we went the hue of the water grew more red, +almost to blackness, till at last it seemed as though we were +travelling through a sea of gore in which dead fish floated by the +thousand, or struggled dying on the surface. Also the stench was so +dreadful that we must bind linen about our nostrils to strain the foetid +air. + +We came abreast of a town, and from its streets one great wail of terror +rose to heaven. Men stood staring as though they were drunken, looking +at their red arms which they had dipped in the stream, and women ran to +and fro upon the bank, tearing their hair and robes, and crying out +such words as— + +“Wizard’s work! Bewitched! Accursed! The gods have slain each +other, and men too must die!” and so forth. + +Also we saw peasants digging holes at a distance from the shore to see +perchance if they might come to water that was sweet and wholesome. All +day long we travelled thus through this horrible flood, while the spray +driven by the strong north wind spotted our flesh and garments, till we +were like butchers reeking from the shambles. Nor could we eat any food +because of the stench from this spray, which made it to taste salt as +does fresh blood, only we drank of the water which I had provided, and +the rowers who had held me to be mad now named me the wisest of men; +one who knew what would befall in the future. + +At length towards evening we noted that the water was growing much less +red with every hour that passed, which was another marvel, seeing that +above us, upstream, it was the colour of jasper, whereon we paused from +our rowing and, all defiled as we were, sang a hymn and gave thanks to +Hapi, god of Nile, the Great, the Secret, the Hidden. Before sunset, +indeed, the river was clean again, save that on the bank where we made +fast for the night the stones and rushes were all stained, and the dead +fish lay in thousands polluting the air. To escape the stench we +climbed a cliff that here rose quite close to Nile, in which we saw the +mouths of ancient tombs that long ago had been robbed and left empty, +purposing to sleep in one of them. + +A path worn by the feet of men ran to the largest of these tombs, +whence, as we drew near, we heard the sound of wailing. Looking in, I +saw a woman and some children crouched upon the floor of the tomb, +their heads covered with dust who, when they perceived us, cried more +loudly than before, though with harsh dry voices, thinking no doubt +that we were robbers or perhaps ghosts because of our bloodstained +garments. Also there was another child, a little one, that did not cry, +because it was dead. I asked the woman what passed, but even when she +understood that we were only men who meant her no harm, she could not +speak or do more than gasp “Water! Water!” We gave her and the +children to drink from the jars which we had brought with us, which +they did greedily, after which I drew her story from her. + +She was the wife of a fisherman who made his home in this cave, and said +that seven days before the Nile had turned to blood, so that they could +not drink of it, and had no water save a little in a pot. Nor could +they dig to find it, since here the ground was all rock. Nor could they +escape, since when he saw the marvel, her husband in his fear had leapt +from his boat and waded to land and the boat had floated away. + +I asked where was her husband, and she pointed behind her. I went to +look, and there found a man hanging by his neck from a rope that was +fixed to the capital of a pillar in the tomb, quite dead and cold. +Returning sick at heart, I inquired of her how this had come about. She +answered that when he saw that all the fish had perished, taking away +his living, and that thirst had killed his youngest child, he went mad, +and creeping to the back of the tomb, without her knowledge hung +himself with a net rope. It was a dreadful story. + +Having given the widow of our food, we went to sleep in another tomb, +not liking the company of those dead ones. Next morning at the dawn we +took the woman and her children on board the barge, and rowed them +three hours’ journey to a town where she had a sister, whom she +found. The dead man and the child we left there in the tomb, since my +men would not defile themselves by touching them. + +So, seeing much terror and misery on our journey, at last we came safe +to Memphis. Leaving the boatmen to draw up the barge, I went to the +palace, speaking with none, and was led at once to the Prince. I found +him in a shaded chamber seated side by side with the lady Merapi, and +holding her hand in such a fashion that they remind me of the +life-sized Ka statues of a man and his wife, such as I have seen in the +ancient tombs, cut when the sculptors knew how to fashion the perfect +likenesses of men and women. This they no longer do to-day, I think +because the priests have taught them that it is not lawful. He was +talking to her in a low voice, while she listened, smiling sweetly as +she ever did, but with eyes, fixed straight before her that were, as it +seemed to me, filled with fear. I thought that she looked very +beautiful with her hair outspread over her white robe, and held back +from her temples by a little fillet of god. But as I looked, I rejoiced +to find that my heart no longer yearned for her as it had upon that +night when I had seen her seated beneath the trees without the +pleasure-house. Now she was its friend, no more, and so she remained +until all was finished, as both the Prince and she knew well enough. + +When he saw me Seti sprang from his seat and came to greet me, as a man +does the friend whom he loves. I kissed his hand, and going to Merapi, +kissed hers also noting that on it now shone that ring which once she +had rejected as too large. + +“Tell me, Ana, all that has befallen you,” he said in his pleasant, +eager voice. + +“Many things, Prince; one of them very strange and terrible,” I +answered. + +“Strange and terrible things have happened here also,” broke in +Merapi, “and, alas! this is but the beginning of woes.” + +So saying, she rose, as though she could trust herself to speak no more, +bowed first to her lord and then to me, and left the chamber. + +I looked at the Prince and he answered the question in my eyes. + +“Jabez has been here,” he said, “and filled her heart with +forebodings. If Pharaoh will not let the Israelites go, by Amon I wish +he would let Jabez go to some place whence he never could return. But +tell me, have you also met blood travelling against the stream of Nile? +It would seem so,” and he glanced at the rusty stains that no washing +would remove from my garments. + +I nodded and we talked together long and earnestly, but in the end were +no wiser for all our talking. For neither of us knew how it came about +that men by striking water with a rod could turn it into what seemed to +be blood, as the Hebrew prophet and Ki both had done, or how that blood +could travel up the Nile against the stream and everywhere endure for a +space of seven days; yes, and spread too to all the canals in Egypt, so +that men must dig holes for water and dig them fresh each day because +the blood crept in and poisoned them. But both of us thought that this +was the work of the gods, and most of all of that god whom the Hebrews +worship. + +“You remember, Ana,” said the Prince, “the message which you +brought to me from Jabez, namely that no harm should come to me because +of these Israelites and their curses. Well, no harm has come as yet, +except the harm of Jabez, for he came. On the day before the news of +this blood plague reached us, Jabez appeared disguised as a merchant of +Syrian stuffs, all of which he sold to me at three times their value. +He obtained admission to the chambers of Merapi, where she is +accustomed to see whom she wills, and under pretence of showing her his +stuffs, spoke with her and, as I fear, told her what you and I were so +careful to hide, that she would bring trouble on me. At the least she +has never been quite the same since, and I have thought it wise to make +her swear by an oath, which I know she will never break, that now we +are one she will not attempt to separate herself from me while we both +have life.” + +“Did he wish her to go away with him, Prince?” + +“I do not know. She never told me so. Still I am sure that had he come +with his evil talk before that day when you returned from Tanis, she +would have gone. Now I hope that there are reasons that will keep her +where she is.” + +“What then did he say, Prince?” + +“Little beyond what he had already said to you, that great troubles +were about to fall on Egypt. He added that he was sent to save me and +mine from these troubles because I had been a friend to the Hebrews in +so far as that was possible. Then he walked through this house and all +round its gardens, as he went reciting something that was written on a +roll, of which I could not understand the meaning, and now and again +prostrating himself to pray to his god. Thus, where the canal enters +the garden and where it leaves the garden he stayed to pray, as he did +at the well whence drinking water is drawn. Moreover, led by Merapi, he +visited all my cornlands and those where my cattle are herded, reciting +and praying until the servants thought that he was mad. After this he +returned with her and, as it chanced, I overheard their parting. She +said to him: + +“‘The house you have blessed and it is safe; the fields you have +blessed and they are safe; will you not bless me also, O my Uncle, and +any that are born of me?’ + +“He answered, shaking his head, ‘I have no command, my Niece, +either to bless or to curse you, as did that fool whom the Prince slew. +You have chosen your own path apart from your people. It may be well, +or it may be ill, or perhaps both, and henceforth you must walk it +alone to wherever it may lead. Farewell, for perhaps we shall meet no +more.’ + +“Thus speaking they passed out of earshot, but I could see that still +she pleaded and still he shook his head. In the end, however, she gave +him an offering, of all that she had I think, though whether this went +to the temple of the Hebrews or into his own pouch I know not. At least +it seemed to soften him, for he kissed her on the brow tenderly enough +and departed with the air of a happy merchant who has sold his wares. +But of all that passed between them Merapi would tell me nothing. Nor +did I tell her of what I had overheard.” + +“And then?” + +“And then, Ana, came the story of the Hebrew prophet who made the +water into blood, and of Ki and his disciples who did likewise. The +latter I did not believe, because I said it would be more reasonable +had Ki turned the blood back into water, instead of making more blood +of which there was enough already.” + +“I think that magicians have no reason.” + +“Or can do mischief only, Ana. At any rate after the story came the +blood itself and stayed with us seven whole days, leaving much sickness +behind it because of the stench of the rotting fish. Now for the +marvel—here about my house there was no blood, though above and below +the canal was full of it. The water remained as it has always been and +the fish swam in it as they have always done; also that of the well +kept sweet and pure. When this came to be known thousands crowded to +the place, clamouring for water; that is until they found that outside +the gates it grew red in their vessels, after which, although some +still came, they drank the water where they stood, which they must do +quickly.” + +“And what tale do they tell of this in Memphis, Prince?” I asked +astonished. + +“Certain of them say that not Ki but I am the greatest magician in +Egypt—never, Ana, was fame more lightly earned. And certain say that +Merapi, of whose doings in the temple at Tanis some tale has reached +them, is the real magician, she being an Israelite of the tribe of the +Hebrew prophets. Hush! She returns.” + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +KI COMES TO MEMPHIS + + +Now of all the terrors of which this turning of the water into blood was +the beginning in Egypt, I, Ana, the scribe, will not write, for if I +did so, never in my life-days should I, who am old, find time to finish +the story of them. Over a period of many, many moons they came, one by +one, till the land grew mad with want and woe. Always the tale was the +same. The Hebrew prophets would visit Pharaoh at Tanis and demand that +he should let their people go, threatening him with vengeance if he +refused. Yet he did refuse, for some madness had hold of him, or +perhaps the god of the Israelites laid an enchantment on him, why I +know not. + +Thus but a little while after the terror of blood came a plague of frogs +that filled Egypt from north to south, and when these were taken away +made the air to stink. This miracle Ki and his company worked also, +sending the frogs into Goshen, where they plagued the Israelites. But +however it came about, at Seti’s palace at Memphis and on the land +that he owned around it there were no frogs, or at least but few of +them, although at night from the fields about the sound of their +croaking went up like the sound of beaten drums. + +Next came a plague of lice, and these Ki and his companions would have +also called down upon the Hebrews, but they failed, and afterwards +struggled no more against the magic of the Israelites. Then followed a +plague of flies, so that the air was black with them and no food could +be kept sweet. Only in Seti’s palace there were no flies, and in the +garden but a few. After this a terrible pest began among the cattle, +whereof thousands died. But of Seti’s great herd not one was even +sick, nor, as we learned, was there a hoof the less in the land of +Goshen. + +This plague struck Egypt but a little while after Merapi had given birth +to a son, a very beautiful child with his mother’s eyes, that was +named Seti after his father. Now the marvel of the escape of the Prince +and his household and all that was his from these curses spread abroad +and made much talk, so that many sent to inquire of it. + +Among the first came old Bakenkhonsu with a message from Pharaoh, and a +private one to myself from the Princess Userti, whose pride would not +suffer her to ask aught of Seti. We could tell him nothing except what +I have written, which at first he did not believe. Having satisfied +himself, however, that the thing was true, he said that he had fallen +sick and could not travel back to Tanis. Therefore he asked leave of +the Prince to rest a while in his house, he who had been the friend of +his father, his grandfather, and his great-grandfather. Seti laughed, +as indeed did the cunning old man himself, and there with us +Bakenkhonsu remained till the end, to our great joy, for he was the most + pleasant of all companions and the most learned. As for his message, +one of his servants took back the answer to Pharaoh and to Userti, with +the news of his master’s grievous sickness. + +Some eight days or so later, as I stood one morning basking in the sun +at that gate of the palace gardens which overlooks the temple of Ptah, +idly watching the procession of priests passing through its courts and +chanting as they went (for because of the many sicknesses at this time +I left the palace but rarely), I saw a tall figure approaching me +draped against the morning cold. The man drew near, and addressing me +over the head of the guard, asked if he could see the lady Merapi. I +answered No, as she was engaged in nursing her son. + +“And in other things, I think,” he said with meaning, in a voice +that seemed familiar to me. “Well, can I see the Prince Seti?” + +I answered No, he was also engaged. + +“In nursing his own soul, studying the eyes of the lady Merapi, the +smile of his infant, the wisdom of the scribe Ana, and the attributes +of the hundred and one gods that are known to him, including that of +Israel, I suppose,” said the familiar voice, adding, “Then can I +see this scribe Ana, who I understand, being lucky, holds himself +learned.” + +Now, angered at the scoffing of this stranger (though all the time I +felt that he was none), I answered that the scribe Ana was striving to +mend his luck by the pursuit of the goddess of learning in his study. + +“Let him pursue,” mocked the stranger, “since she is the only +woman that he is ever likely to catch. Yet it is true that once one +caught him. If you are of his acquaintance ask him of his talk with her +in the avenue of the Sphinxes outside the great temple at Thebes and of +what it cost him in gold and tears.” + +Hearing this I put my hand to my forehead and rubbed my eyes, thinking +that I must have fallen into a dream there in the sunshine. When I +lifted it again all was the same as before. There stood the sentry, +indifferent to that which had no interest for him; the cock that had +moulted its tail still scratched in the dirt; the crested hoopoe still +sat spreading its wings on the head of one of the two great statues of +Rameses which watched the gate; a water-seller in the distance still +cried his wares, but the stranger was gone. Then I knew that I had been +dreaming and turned to go also, to find myself face to face with him. + +“Man,” I said, indignantly, “how in the name of Ptah and all +his priests did you pass a sentry and through that gate without my +seeing you?” + +“Do not trouble yourself with a new problem when already you have so +many to perplex you, friend Ana. Say, have you yet solved that of how a +rod like this turned itself into a snake in your hand?” and he threw +back his hood, revealing the shaved head and the glowing eyes of the +Kherheb Ki. + +“No, I have not,” I answered, “and I thank you,” for +here he proffered me the staff, “but I will not try the trick again. +Next time the beast might bite. Well, Ki, as you can pass in here +without my leave, why do you ask it? In short, what do you want with +me, now that those Hebrew prophets have put you on your back?” + +“Hush, Ana. Never grow angry, it wastes strength, of which we have so +little to spare, for you know, being so wise, or perhaps you do not +know, that at birth the gods give us a certain store of it, and when +that is used we die and have to go elsewhere to fetch more. At this +rate your life will be short, Ana, for you squander it in emotions.” + +“What do you want?” I repeated, being too angry to dispute with him. + +“I want to find an answer to the question you asked so roughly: Why +the Hebrew prophets have, as you say, put me on my back?” + +“Not being a magician, as you pretend you are, I can give you none, +Ki.” + +“Never for one moment did I suppose that you could,” he replied +blandly, stretching out his hands, and leaving the staff which had +fallen from them standing in front of him. (It was not till afterwards +that I remembered that this accursed bit of wood stood there of itself +without visible support, for it rested on the paving-stone of the +gateway.) “But, as it chances, you have in this house the master, or +rather the mistress of all magicians, as every Egyptian knows to-day, +the lady Merapi, and I would see her.” + +“Why do you say she is a mistress of magicians?” I asked +indignantly. + +“Why does one bird know another of its own kind? Why does the water +here remain pure, when all other water turns to blood? Why do not the +frogs croak in Seti’s halls, and why do the flies avoid his meat? +Why, also, did the statue of Amon melt before her glance, while all my +magic fell back from her breast like arrows from a shirt of mail? Those +are the questions that Egypt asks, and I would have an answer to them +from the beloved of Seti, or of the god Set, she who is named Moon of +Israel.” + +“Then why not go seek it for yourself, Ki? To you, doubtless, it would +be a small matter to take the form of a snake or a rat, or a bird, and +creep or run or fly into the presence of Merapi.” + +“Mayhap it would not be difficult, Ana. Or, better still, I might +visit her in her sleep, as I visited you on a certain night at Thebes, +when you told me of a talk you had held with a woman in the avenue of +the Sphinxes, and of what it cost you in gold and tears. But, as it +chances, I wish to appear as a man and a friend, and to stay a while. +Bakenkhonsu tells me that he finds life here at Memphis very pleasant, +free too from the sicknesses which just now seem to be so common in +Egypt; so why should not I do the same, Ana?” + +I looked at his round, ripe face, on which was fixed a smile unchanging +as that worn by the masks on mummy coffins, from which I think he must +have copied it, and at the cold, deep eyes above, and shivered a +little. To tell truth I feared this man, whom I felt to be in touch +with presences and things that are not of our world, and thought it +wisest to withstand him no more. + +“That is a question which you had best put to my master Seti who owns +this house. Come, I will lead you to him,” I said. + +So we went to the great portico of the palace, passing in and out +through the painted pillars, towards my own apartments, whence I +purposed to send a message to the Prince. As it chanced this was +needless, since presently we saw him seated in a little bay out of +reach of the sun. By his side was Merapi, and on a woven rug between +them lay their sleeping infant, at whom both of them gazed adoringly. + +“Strange that this mother’s heart should hide more might than can +be boasted by all the gods of Egypt. Strange that those mother’s eyes +can rive the ancient glory of Amon into dust!” Ki said to me in so +low a voice that it almost seemed as though I heard his thought and not +his words, which perhaps indeed I did. + +Now we stood in front of these three, and the sun being behind us, for +it was still early, the shadow of the cloaked Ki fell upon a babe and +lay there. A hateful fancy came to me. It looked like the evil form of +an embalmer bending over one new dead. The babe felt it, opened its +large eyes and wailed. Merapi saw it, and snatched up her child. Seti +too rose from his seat, exclaiming, “Who comes?” + +Thereon, to my amazement, Ki prostrated himself and uttered the +salutation which may only be given to the King of Egypt: “Life! +Blood! Strength! Pharaoh! Pharaoh! Pharaoh!” + +“Who dares utter those words to me?” said Seti. “Ana, what +madman do you bring here?” + +“May it please the Prince, _he_ brought _me_ here,” I +replied faintly. + +“Fellow, tell me who bade you say such words, than which none were +ever less welcome.” + +“Those whom I serve, Prince.” + +“And whom do you serve?” + +“The gods of Egypt.” + +“Then, man, I think the gods must need your company. Pharaoh does not +sit at Memphis, and were he to hear of them——” + +“Pharaoh will never hear them, Prince, until he hears all things.” + +They stared at each other. Then, as I had done by the gate Seti rubbed +his eyes, and said: + +“Surely this is Ki. Why, then, did you look otherwise just now?” + +“The gods can change the fashion of their messenger a thousand times +in a flash, if so they will, O Prince.” + +Now Seti’s anger passed, and turned to laughter. + +“Ki, Ki,” he said, “you should keep these tricks for Court. +But, since you are in the mood, what salutation have you for this lady +by my side?” + +Ki considered her, till she who ever feared and hated him shrank before +his gaze. + +“Crown of Hathor, I greet you. Beloved of Isis, shine on perfect in +the sky, shedding light and wisdom ere you set.” + +Now this saying puzzled me. Indeed, I did not fully understand it until +Bakenkhonsu reminded me that Merapi’s name was Moon of Israel, that +Hathor, goddess of love, is crowned with the moon in all her statues, +that Isis is the queen of mysteries and wisdom, and that Ki who thought +Merapi perfect in love and beauty, also the greatest of all +sorceresses, was likening her to these. + +“Yes,” I answered, “but what did he mean when he talked about +her setting?” + +“Does not the moon always set, and is it not sometimes eclipsed?” +he asked shortly. + +“So does the sun,” I answered. + +“True; so does the sun! You are growing wise, very wise indeed, friend +Ana. Oho—ho!” + +To return: When Seti heard these words, he laughed again, and said: + +“I must think that saying over, but it is clear that you have a pretty +turn for praise. Is it not so, Merapi, Crown of Hathor, and Holder of +the wisdom of Isis?” + +But Merapi, who, I think, understood more than either of us, turned +pale, and shrank further away, but outwards into the sunshine. + +“Well, Ki,” went on Seti, “finish your greetings. What for +the babe?” + +Ki considered it also. + +“Now that it is no longer in the shadow, I see that this shoot from +the royal root of Pharaoh grows so fast and tall that my eyes cannot +reach its crest. He is too high and great for greetings, Prince.” + +Then Merapi uttered a little cry, and bore the child away. + +“She is afraid of magicians and their dark sayings,” said Seti, +looking after her with a troubled smile. + +“That she should not be, Prince, seeing that she is the mistress of +all our tribe.” + +“The lady Merapi a magician? Well, after a fashion, yes—where the +hearts of men are concerned, do you not think so, Ana? But be more +plain, Ki. It is still early, and I love riddles best at night.” + +“What other could have shattered the strong and holy house where the +majesty of Amon dwells on earth? Not even those prophets of the Hebrews +as I think. What other could fence this garden round against the curses +that have fallen upon Egypt?” asked Ki earnestly, for now all his +mocking manner had departed. + +“I do not think she does these things, Ki. I think some Power does +them through her, and I know that she dared to face Amon in his temple +because she was bidden so to do by the priests of her people.” + +“Prince,” he answered with a short laugh, “a while ago I sent +you a message by Ana, which perhaps other thoughts may have driven from +his memory. It was as to the nature of that Power of which you speak. +In that message I said that you were wise, but now I perceive that you +lack wisdom like the rest of us, for if you had it, you would know that +the tool which carves is not the guiding hand, and the lightning which +smites is not the sending strength. So with this fair love of yours, +and so with me and all that work marvels. We do not the things we seem +to do, who are but the tool and the lightning. What I would know is who +or what guides her hand and gives her the might to shield or to +destroy.” + +“The question is wide, Ki, or so it seems to me who, as you say, have +little wisdom, and whoever can answer it holds the key of knowledge. +Your magic is but a small thing which seems great because so few can +handle it. What miracle is it that makes the flower to grow, the child +to be born, the Nile to rise, and the sun and stars to shine in heaven? +What causes man to be half a beast and half a god and to grow downward +to the beast or upward to the god—or both? What is faith and what is +unbelief? Who made these things, through them to declare the purposes +of life, of death, and of eternity? You shake your head, you do not +know; how then can I know who, as you point out, am but foolish? Go get +your answer from the lady Merapi’s self, only mayhap you will find +your questions countered.” + +“I’ll take my chance. Thanks to Merapi’s lord! A boon, O +Prince, since you will not suffer that other name which comes easiest to +the lips of one to whom the Present and the Future are sometimes much +alike.” + +Seti looked at him keenly, and for the first time with a tinge of fear +in his eyes. + +“Leave the Future to itself, Ki,” he exclaimed. “Whatever may +be the mind of Egypt, just now I hold the Present enough for me,” and +he glanced first at the chair in which Merapi had been seated and then +at the cloth upon which his son had lain. + +“I take back my words. The Prince is wiser than I thought. Magicians +know the future because at times it rushes down upon them and they +must. It is that which makes them lonely, since what they know they +cannot say. But only fools will seek it.” + +“Yet now and again they lift a corner of the veil, Ki. Thus I remember +certain sayings of your own as to one who would find a great treasure in +the land of Goshen and thereafter suffer some temporal loss, and—I +forget the rest. Man, cease smiling at me with your face and piercing +me through with your sword-like eyes. You can command all things, what +boon then do you seek from me?” + +“To lodge here a little while, Prince, in the company of Ana and +Bakenkhonsu. Hearken, I am no more Kherheb. I have quarrelled with +Pharaoh, perhaps because a little breath from that great wind of the +future blows through my soul; perhaps because he does not reward me +according to my merits—what does it matter which? At least I have +come to be of one mind with you, O Prince, and think that Pharaoh would +do well to let the Hebrews go, and therefore no longer will I attempt +to match my magic against theirs. But he refuses, so we have parted.” + +“Why does he refuse, Ki?” + +“Perhaps it is written that he must refuse. Or perhaps because, +thinking himself the greatest of all kings instead of but a plaything +of the gods, pride locks the doors of his heart that in a day to come +the tempest of the Future, whereof I have spoken, may wreck the house +which holds it. I do not know why he refuses, but her Highness Userti +is much with him.” + +“For one who does not know, you have many reasons and all of them +different, O instructed Ki,” said Seti. + +Then he paused, walking up and down the portico, and I who knew his mind +guessed that he was wondering whether he would do well to suffer Ki, +whom at times he feared because his objects were secret and never +changed, to abide in his house, or whether he should send him away. Ki +also shivered a little, as though he felt the shadow cold, and +descended from the portico into the bright sunshine. Here he held out +his hand and a great moth dropped from the roof and lit upon it, +whereon he lifted it to his lips, which moved as though he were talking +to the insect. + +“What shall I do?” muttered Seti, as he passed me. + +“I do not altogether like his company, nor, I think, does the lady +Merapi, but he is an ill man to offend, Prince,” I answered. “Look, +he is talking with his familiar.” + +Seti returned to his place, and shaking off the moth which seemed loth +to leave him, for twice it settled on his head, Ki came back into the +shadow. + +“Where is the use of your putting questions to me, Ki, when, according +to your own showing, already you know the answer that I will give? What +answer shall I give?” asked the Prince. + +“That painted creature which sat upon my hand just now, seemed to +whisper to me that you would say, O Prince, ‘Stay, Ki, and be my +faithful servant, and use any little lore you have to shield my house +from ill.’” + +Then Seti laughed in his careless fashion, and replied: + +“Have your way, since it is a rule that none of the royal blood of +Egypt may refuse hospitality to those who seek it, having been their +friends, and I will not quote against your moth what a bat whispered in +my ears last night. Nay, none of your salutations revealed to you by +insects or by the future,” and he gave him his hand to kiss. + +When Ki was gone, I said: + +“I told you that night-haunting thing was his familiar.” + +“Then you told me folly, Ana. The knowledge that Ki has he does not +get from moths or beetles. Yet now that it is too late I wish that I +had asked the lady Merapi what her will was in this matter. You should +have thought of that, Ana, instead of suffering your mind to be led +astray by an insect sitting on his hand, which is just what he meant +that you should do. Well, in punishment, day by day it shall be your +lot to look upon a man with a countenance like—like what?” + +“Like that which I saw upon the coffin of the good god, your divine +father, Meneptah, as it was prepared for him during his life in the +embalmer’s shop at Tanis,” I answered. + +“Yes,” said the Prince, “a face smiling eternally at the +Nothingness which is Life and Death, but in certain lights, with eyes of +fire.” + +On the following day, by her invitation, I walked with the lady Merapi +in the garden, the head nurse following us, bearing the royal child in +her arms. + +“I wish to ask you about Ki, friend Ana,” she said. “You know +he is my enemy, for you must have heard the words he spoke to me in the +temple of Amon at Tanis. It seems that my lord has made him the guest +of this house—oh look!” and she pointed before her. + +I looked, and there a few paces away, where the shadow of the +overhanging palms was deepest, stood Ki. He was leaning on his staff, +the same that had turned to a snake in my hand, and gazing upwards like +one who is lost in thought, or listens to the singing of birds. Merapi +turned as though to fly, but at that moment Ki saw us, although he +still seemed to gaze upwards. + +“Greeting, O Moon of Israel,” he said bowing. “Greeting, O +Conqueror of Ki!” + +She bowed back, and stood still, as a little bird stands when it sees a +snake. There was a long silence, which he broke by asking: + +“Why seek that from Ana which Ki himself is eager to give? Ana is +learned, but is his heart the heart of Ki? Above all, why tell him that +Ki, the humblest of your servants, is your enemy?” + +Now Merapi straightened herself, looked into his eyes, and answered: + +“Have I told Ana aught that he did not know? Did not Ana hear the last +words you said to me in the temple of Amon at Tanis?” + +“Doubtless he heard them, Lady, and therefore I am glad that he is +here to hear their meaning. Lady Merapi, at that moment, I, the +Sacrificer to Amon, was filled—not with my own spirit, but with the +angry spirit of the god whom you had humbled as never before had +befallen him in Egypt. The god through me demanded of you the secret of +your magic, and promised you his hate, if you refused. Lady, you have +his hate, but mine you have not, since I also have his hate because I, +and he through me, have been worsted by your prophets. Lady, we are +fellow-travellers in the Valley of Trouble.” + +She gazed at him steadily, and I could see that of all that passed his +lips she believed no one word. Making no answer to him and his talk of +Amon, she asked only: + +“Why do you come here to do me ill who have done you none?” + +“You are mistaken, Lady,” he replied. “I come here to refuge +from Amon, and from his servant Pharaoh, whom Amon drives on to ruin. I +know well that, if you will it, you can whisper in the ear of the +Prince and presently he will put me forth. Only then——” and he +looked over her head to where the nurse stood rocking the sleeping +child. + +“Then what, Magician?” + +Giving no answer, he turned to me. + +“Learned Ana, do you remember meeting me at Tanis one night?” + +I shook my head, though I guessed well enough what night he meant. + +“Your memory weakens, learned Ana, or rather is confused, for we met +often, did we not?” + +Then he stared at the staff in his hand. I stared also, because I could +not help it, and saw, or thought I saw, the dead wood begin to swell +and curve. This was enough for me and I said hastily: + +“If you mean the night of the Coronation, I do recall——” + +“Ah! I thought you would. You, learned Ana, who like all scribes +observe so closely, will have noted how little things—such as the +scent of a flower, or the passing of a bird, or even the writhing of a +snake in the dust—often bring back to the mind events or words it has +forgotten long ago.” + +“Well—what of our meeting?” I broke in hastily. + +“Nothing at all—or only this. Just before it you were talking with +the Hebrew Jabez, the lady Merapi’s uncle, were you not?” + +“Yes, I was talking with him in an open place, alone.” + +“Not so, learned Scribe, for you know we are never alone—quite. +Could you but see it, every grain of sand has an ear.” + +“Be pleased to explain, O Ki.” + +“Nay, Ana, it would be too long, and short jests are ever the best. As +I have told you, you were not alone, for though there were some words +that I did not catch, _I_ heard much of what passed between you and +Jabez.” + +“What did you hear?” I asked wrathfully, and next instant wished +that I had bitten through my tongue before it shaped the words. + +“Much, much. Let me think. You spoke about the lady Merapi, and +whether she would do well to bide at Memphis in the shadow of the +Prince, or to return to Goshen into the shadow of a certain—I forget +the name. Jabez, a well-instructed man, said he thought that she might +be happier at Memphis, though perhaps her presence there would bring a +great sorrow upon herself and—another.” + +Here again he looked at the child, which seemed to feel his glance, for +it woke up and beat the air with its little hands. + +The nurse felt it also, although her head was turned away, for she +started and then took shelter behind the bole of one of the palm-trees. +Now Merapi said in a low and shaken voice: + +“I know what you mean, Magician, for since then I have seen my uncle +Jabez.” + +“As I have also, several times, Lady, which may explain to you what +Ana here thinks so wonderful, namely that I should have learned what +they said together when he thought they were alone, which, as I have +told him, no one can ever be, at least in Egypt, the land of listening +gods——” + +“And spying sorcerers,” I exclaimed. + +“——And spying sorcerers,” he repeated after me, +“and scribes who take notes, and learn them by heart, and priests with +ears as large as asses, and leaves that whisper—and many other +things.” + +“Cease your gibes, and say what you have to say,” said Merapi, in +the same broken voice. + +He made no answer, but only looked at the tree behind which the nurse +and child had vanished. + +“Oh! I know, I know,” she exclaimed in tones that were like a cry. +“My child is threatened! You threaten my child because you hate me.” + +“Your pardon, Lady. It is true that evil threatens this royal babe, or +so I understood from Jabez, who knows so much. But it is not I that +threaten it, any more than I hate you, in whom I acknowledge a fellow +of my craft, but one greater than myself that it is my duty to obey.” + +“Have done! Why do you torment me?” + +“Can the priests of the Moon-goddess torment Isis, Mother of Magic, +with their prayers and offerings? And can I who would make a prayer and +an offering——” + +“What prayer, and what offering?” + +“The prayer that you will suffer me to shelter in this house from the +many dangers that threaten me at the hands of Pharaoh and the prophets +of your people, and an offering of such help as I can give by my arts +and knowledge against blacker dangers which threaten—another.” + +Here once more he gazed at the trunk of the tree beyond which I heard +the infant wail. + +“If I consent, what then?” she asked, hoarsely. + +“Then, Lady, I will strive to protect a certain little one against a +curse which Jabez tells me threatens him and many others in whom runs +the blood of Egypt. I will strive, if I am allowed to bide here—I do +not say that I shall succeed, for as your lord has reminded me, and as +you showed me in the temple of Amon, my strength is smaller than that +of the prophets and prophetesses of Israel.” + +“And if I refuse?” + +“Then, Lady,” he answered in a voice that rang like iron, “I +am sure that one whom you love—as mothers love—will shortly be +rocked in the arms of the god whom we name Osiris.” + +“_Stay_,” she cried and, turning, fled away. + +“Why, Ana, she is gone,” he said, “and that before I could +bargain for my reward. Well, this I must find in your company. How +strange are women, Ana! Here you have one of the greatest of her sex, +as you learned in the temple of Amon. And yet she opens beneath the sun +of hope and shrivels beneath the shadow of fear, like the touched +leaves of that tender plant which grows upon the banks of the river; +she who, with her eyes set on the mystery that is beyond, whereof she +hears the whispering winds, should tread both earthly hope and fear +beneath her feet, or make of them stepping stones to glory. Were she a +man she would do so, but her sex wrecks her, she who thinks more of the +kiss of a babe than of all the splendours she might harbour in her +breast. Yes, a babe, a single wretched little babe. You had one once, +did you not, Ana?” + +“Oh! to Set and his fires with you and your evil talk,” I said, and +left him. + +When I had gone a little way, I looked back and saw that he was +laughing, throwing up his staff as he laughed, and catching it again. + +“Set and his fires,” he called after me. “I wonder what they +are like, Ana. Perhaps one day we shall learn, you and I together, +Scribe Ana.” + +So Ki took up his abode with us, in the same lodgings as Bakenkhonsu, +and almost every day I would meet them walking in the garden, since I, +who was of the Prince’s table, except when he ate with the lady +Merapi, did not take my food with them. Then we would talk together +about many subjects. On those which had to do with learning, or even +religion, I had the better of Ki, who was no great scholar or master of +theology. But always before we parted he would plant some arrow in my +ribs, at which old Bakenkhonsu laughed, and laughed again, yet ever +threw over me the shield of his venerable wisdom, just because he loved +me I think. + +It was after this that the plague struck the cattle of Egypt, so that +tens of thousands of them died, though not all as was reported. But, as +I have said, of the herds of Seti none died, nor, as we were told, did +any of those of the Israelites in the land of Goshen. Now there was +great distress in Egypt, but Ki smiled and said that he knew it would +be so, and that there was much worse to come, for which I could have +smitten him over the head with his own staff, had I not feared that, if +I did so, it might once more turn to a serpent in my hand. + +Old Bakenkhonsu looked upon the matter with another face. He said that +since his last wife died, I think some fifty years before, he had found +life very dull because he missed the exercises of her temper, and her +habit of presenting things as these never had been nor could possibly +ever be. Now, however, it grew interesting again, since the marvels +which were happening in Egypt, being quite contrary to Nature, reminded +him of his last wife and her arguments. All of which was his way of +saying that in those years we lived in a new world, whereof for the +Egyptians Set the Evil One seemed to be the king. + +But still Pharaoh would not let the Hebrews go, perhaps because he had +vowed as much to Meneptah who set him on the throne, or perhaps for +those other reasons, or one of them, which Ki had given to the Prince. + +Then came the curse of sores afflicting man, woman, and child throughout +the land, save those who dwelt in the household of Seti. Thus the +watchman and his family whose lodge was without the gates suffered, but +the watchman and his family who lived within the gates, not twenty +paces away, did not suffer, which caused bitterness between their +women. In the same way Ki, who resided as a guest of the Prince at +Memphis, suffered from no sores, whereas those of his College who +remained at Tanis were more heavily smitten than any others, so that +some of them died. When he heard this, Ki laughed and said that he had +told them it would be so. Also Pharaoh himself and even her Highness +Userti were smitten, the latter upon the cheek, which made her +unsightly for a while. Indeed, Bakenkhonsu heard, I know not how, that +so great was her rage that she even bethought her of returning to her +lord Seti, in whose house she had learned people were safe, and the +beauty of her successor, Moon of Israel, remained unscarred and was +even greater than before, tidings that I think Bakenkhonsu himself +conveyed to her. But in the end this her pride, or her jealousy, +prevented her from doing. + +Now the heart of Egypt began to turn towards Seti in good earnest. The +Prince, they said, had opposed the policy of the oppression of the +Hebrews, and because he could not prevail had abandoned his right to +the throne, which Pharaoh Amenmeses had purchased at the price of +accepting that policy whereof the fruits had been proved to be +destruction. Therefore, they reasoned, if Amenmeses were deposed, and +the Prince reigned, their miseries would cease. So they sent +deputations to him secretly, praying him to rise against Amenmeses and +promising him support. But he would listen to none of them, telling them + that he was happy as he was and sought no other state. Still Pharaoh +grew jealous, for all these things his spies reported to him, and set +about plots to destroy Seti. + +Of the first of these Userti warned me by a messenger, but the second +and worse Ki discovered in some strange way, so that the murderer was +trapped at the gate and killed by the watchman, whereon Seti said that +after all he had been wise to give hospitality to Ki, that is, if to +continue to live were wisdom. The lady Merapi also said as much to me, +but I noted that always she shunned Ki, whom she held in mistrust and +fear. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +THE NIGHT OF FEAR + + +Then came the hail, and some months after the hail the locusts, and +Egypt went mad with woe and terror. It was known to us, for with Ki and +Bakenkhonsu in the palace we knew everything, that the Hebrew prophets +had promised this hail because Pharaoh would not listen to them. +Therefore Seti caused it to be put about through all the land that the +Egyptians should shelter their cattle, or such as were left to them, at +the first sign of storm. But Pharaoh heard of it and issued a +proclamation that this was not to be done, inasmuch as it would be an +insult to the gods of Egypt. Still many did so and these saved their +cattle. It was strange to see that wall of jagged ice stretching from +earth to heaven and destroying all upon which it fell. The tall +date-palms were stripped even of their bark; the soil was churned up; +men and beasts if caught abroad were slain or shattered. + +I stood at the gate and watched it. There, not a yard away, fell the +white hail, turning the world to wreck, while here within the gate +there was not a single stone. Merapi watched also, and presently came +Ki as well, and with him Bakenkhonsu, who for once had never seen +anything like this in all his long life. But Ki watched Merapi more +than he did the hail, for I saw him searching out her very soul with +those merciless eyes of his. + +“Lady,” he said at length, “tell your servant, I beseech you, +how you do this thing?” and he pointed first to the trees and flowers +within the gate and then to the wreck without. + +At first I thought that she had not heard him because of the roar of the +hail, for she stepped forward and opened the side wicket to admit a +poor jackal that was scratching at the bars. Still this was not so, for +presently she turned and said: + +“Does the Kherheb, the greatest magician in Egypt, ask an unlearned +woman to teach him of marvels? Well, Ki, I cannot, because I neither do +it nor know how it is done.” + +Bakenkhonsu laughed, and Ki’s painted smile grew as it were brighter +than before. + +“That is not what they say in the land of Goshen, Lady,” he +answered, “and not what the Hebrew women say here in Memphis. Nor is +it what the priests of Amon say. These declare that you have more magic +than all the sorcerers of the Nile. Here is the proof of it,” and he +pointed to the ruin without and the peace within, adding, “Lady, if +you can protect your own home, why cannot you protect the innocent +people of Egypt?” + +“Because I cannot,” she answered angrily. “If ever I had such +power it is gone from me, who am now the mother of an Egyptian’s +child. But I have none. There in the temple of Amon some Strength +worked through me, that is all, which never will visit me again because +of my sin.” + +“What sin, Lady?” + +“The sin of taking the Prince Seti to lord. Now, if any god spoke +through me it would be one of those of the Egyptians, since He of +Israel has cast me out.” + +Ki started as though some new thought had come to him, and at this +moment she turned and went away. + +“Would that she were high-priestess of Isis that she might work for us +and not against us,” he said. + +Bakenkhonsu shook his head. + +“Let that be,” he answered. “Be sure that never will an +Israelitish woman offer sacrifice to what she would call the abomination +of the Egyptians.” + +“If she will not sacrifice to save the people, let her be careful lest +the people sacrifice her to save themselves,” said Ki in a cold voice. + +Then he too went away. + +“I think that if ever that hour comes, then Ki will have his share in +it,” laughed Bakenkhonsu. “What is the good of a shepherd who +shelters here in comfort, while outside the sheep are dying, eh, Ana?” + +It was after the plague of locusts, which ate all there was left to eat +in Egypt, so that the poor folk who had done no wrong and had naught to +say to the dealings of Pharaoh with the Israelites starved by the +thousand, and during that of the great darkness, that Laban came. Now +this darkness lay upon the land like a thick cloud for three whole days +and nights. Nevertheless, though the shadows were deep, there was no +true darkness over the house of Seti at Memphis, which stood in a +funnel of grey light stretching from earth to sky. + +Now the terror was increased tenfold, and it seemed to me that all the +hundreds of thousands of Memphis were gathered outside our walls, so +that they might look upon the light, such as it was, if they could do +no more. Seti would have admitted as many as the place would hold, but +Ki bade him not, saying, that if he did so the darkness would flow in +with them. Only Merapi did admit some of the Israelitish women who were +married to Egyptians in the city, though for her pains they only cursed +her as a witch. For now most of the inhabitants of Memphis were certain +that it was Merapi who, keeping herself safe, had brought these woes +upon them because she was a worshipper of an alien god. + +“If she who is the love of Egypt’s heir would but sacrifice to +Egypt’s gods, these horrors would pass from us,” said they, having, +as I think, learned their lesson from the lips of Ki. Or perhaps the +emissaries of Userti had taught them. + +Once more we stood by the gate watching the people flitting to and fro +in the gloom without, for this sight fascinated Merapi, as a snake +fascinates a bird. Then it was that Laban appeared. I knew his hooked +nose and hawk-like eyes at once, and she knew him also. + +“Come away with me, Moon of Israel,” he cried, “and all shall +yet be forgiven you. But if you will not come, then fearful things shall +overtake you.” + +She stood staring at him, answering never a word, and just then the +Prince Seti reached us and saw him. + +“Take that man,” he commanded, flushing with anger, and guards +sprang into the darkness to do his bidding. But Laban was gone. + +On the second day of the darkness the tumult was great, on the third it +was terrible. A crowd thrust the guard aside, broke down the gates and +burst into the palace, humbly demanding that the lady Merapi would come +to pray for them, yet showing by their mien that if she would not come +they meant to take her. + +“What is to be done?” asked Seti of Ki and Bakenkhonsu. + +“That is for the Prince to judge,” said Ki, “though I do not +see how it can harm the lady Merapi to pray for us in the open square of +Memphis.” + +“Let her go,” said Bakenkhonsu, “lest presently we should all +go further than we would.” + +“I do not wish to go,” cried Merapi, “not knowing for whom I +am to pray or how.” + +“Be it as you will, Lady,” said Seti in his grave and gentle voice. +“Only, hearken to the roar of the mob. If you refuse, I think that +very soon every one of us will have reached a land where perhaps it is +not needful to pray at all,” and he looked at the infant in her arms. + +“I will go,” she said. + +She went forth carrying the child and I walked behind her. So did the +Prince, but in that darkness he was cut off by a rush of thousands of +folk and I saw him no more till all was over. Bakenkhonsu was with me +leaning on my arm, but Ki had gone on before us, for his own ends as I +think. A huge mob moved through the dense darkness, in which here and +there lights floated like lamps upon a quiet sea. I did not know where +we were going until the light of one of these lamps shone upon the +knees of the colossal statue of the great Rameses, revealing his +cartouche. Then I knew that we were near the gateway of the vast temple +of Memphis, the largest perhaps in the whole world. + +We went on through court after pillared court, priests leading us by the +hand, till we came to a shrine commanding the biggest court of all, +which was packed with men and women. It was that of Isis, who held at +her breast the infant Horus. + +“O friend Ana,” cried Merapi, “give help. They are dressing +me in strange garments.” + +I tried to get near to her but was thrust back, a voice, which I thought +to be that of Ki, saying: + +“On your life, fool!” + +Presently a lamp was held up, and by the light of it I saw Merapi seated +in a chair dressed like a goddess, in the sacerdotal robes of Isis and +wearing the vulture cap headdress—beautiful exceedingly. In her arms +was the child dressed as the infant Horus. + +“Pray for us, Mother Isis,” cried thousands of voices, “that +the curse of blackness may be removed.” + +Then she prayed, saying: + +“O my God, take away this curse of blackness from these innocent +people,” and all of those present, repeated her prayer. + +At that moment the sky began to lighten and in less than half an hour +the sun shone out. When Merapi saw how she and the child were arrayed +she screamed aloud and tore off her jewelled trappings, crying: + +“Woe! Woe! Woe! Great woe upon the people of Egypt!” + +But in their joy at the new found light few hearkened to her who they +were sure had brought back the sun. Again Laban appeared for a moment. + +“Witch! Traitress!” he cried. “You have worn the robes of +Isis and worshipped in the temple of the gods of the Egyptians. The +curse of the God of Israel be on you and that which is born of you.” + +I sprang at him but he was gone. Then we bore Merapi home swooning. + +So this trouble passed by, but from that time forward Merapi would not +suffer her son to be taken out of her sight. + +“Why do you make so much of him, Lady?” I asked one day. + +“Because I would love him well while he is here, Friend,” she +answered, “but of this say nothing to his father.” + +A while went by and we heard that still Pharaoh would not let the +Israelites go. Then the Prince Seti sent Bakenkhonsu and myself to +Tanis to see Pharaoh and to say to him: + +“I seek nothing for myself and I forget those evils which you would +have worked on me through jealousy. But I say unto you that if you will +not let these strangers go great and terrible things shall befall you +and all Egypt. Therefore, hear my prayer and let them go.” + +Now Bakenkhonsu and I came before Pharaoh and we saw that he was greatly +aged, for his hair had gone grey about his temples and the flesh hung +in bags beneath his eyes. Also not for one minute could he stay still. + +“Is your lord, and are you also of the servants of this Hebrew prophet +whom the Egyptians worship as a god because he has done them so much +ill?” he asked. “It may well be so, since I hear that my cousin +Seti keeps an Israelitish witch in his house, who wards off from him all +the plagues that have smitten the rest of Egypt, and that to him has +fled also Ki the Kherheb, my magician. Moreover, I hear that in payment +for these wizardries he has been promised the throne of Egypt by many +fickle and fearful ones among my people. Let him be careful lest I lift +him up higher than he hopes, who already have enough traitors in this +land; and you two with him.” + +Now I said nothing, who saw that the man was mad, but Bakenkhonsu +laughed out loud and answered: + +“O Pharaoh, I know little, but I know this although I be old, namely, +that after men have ceased to speak your name I shall still hold +converse with the wearer of the Double Crown in Egypt. Now will you let +these Hebrews go, or will you bring death upon Egypt?” + +Pharaoh glared at him and answered, “I will not let them go.” + +“Why not, Pharaoh? Tell me, for I am curious.” + +“Because I cannot,” he answered with a groan. “Because +something stronger than myself forces me to deny their prayer. +Begone!” + +So we went, and this was the last time that I looked upon Amenmeses at +Tanis. + +As we left the chamber I saw the Hebrew prophet entering the presence. +Afterwards a rumour reached us that he had threatened to kill all the +people in Egypt, but that still Pharaoh would not let the Israelites +depart. Indeed, it was said that he had told the prophet that if he +appeared before him any more he should be put to death. + +Now we journeyed back to Memphis with all these tidings and made report +to Seti. When Merapi heard them she went half mad, weeping and wringing +her hands. I asked her what she feared. She answered death, which was +near to all of us. I said: + +“If so, there are worse things, Lady.” + +“For you mayhap who are faithful and good in your own fashion, but not +for me. Do you not understand, friend Ana, that I am one who has broken +the law of the God I was taught to worship?” + +“And which of us is there who has not broken the law of the god we +were taught to worship, Lady? If in truth you have done anything of the +sort by flying from a murderous villain to one who loves you well, +which I do not believe, surely there is forgiveness for such sins as +this.” + +“Aye, perhaps, but, alas! the thing is blacker far. Have you forgotten +what I did? Dressed in the robes of Isis I worshipped in the temple of +Isis with my boy playing the part of Horus on my bosom. It is a crime +that can never be forgiven to a Hebrew woman, Ana, for my God is a +jealous God. Yet it is true that Ki tricked me.” + +“If he had not, Lady, I think there would have been none of us left to +trick, seeing that the people were crazed with the dread of the darkness +and believed that it could be lifted by you alone, as indeed +happened,” I added somewhat doubtfully. + +“More of Ki’s tricks! Oh! do you not understand that the lifting of +the darkness at that moment was Ki’s work, because he wished the +people to believe that I am indeed a sorceress.” + +“Why?” I asked. + +“I do not know. Perhaps that one day he may find a victim to bind to +the altar in his place. At least I know well that it is I who must pay +the price, I and my flesh and blood, whatever Ki may promise,” and +she looked at the sleeping child. + +“Do not be afraid, Lady,” I said. “Ki has left the palace and +you will see him no more.” + +“Yes, because the Prince was angry with him about the trick in the +temple of Isis. Therefore suddenly he went, or pretended to go, for how +can one tell where such a man may really be? But he will come back +again. Bethink you, Ki was the greatest magician in Egypt; even old +Bakenkhonsu can remember none like to him. Then he matches himself +against the prophets of my people and fails.” + +“But did he fail, Lady? What they did he did, sending among the +Israelites the plagues that your prophets had sent among us.” + +“Yes, some of them, but he was outpaced, or feared to be outpaced at +last. Is Ki a man to forget that? And if Ki chances really to believe +that I am his adversary and his master at this black work, as because +of what happened in the temple of Amon thousands believe to-day, will +he not mete me my own measure soon or late? Oh! I fear Ki, Ana, and I +fear the people of Egypt, and were it not for my lord beloved, I would +flee away into the wilderness with my son, and get me out of this +haunted land! Hush! he wakes.” + +From this time forward until the sword fell there was great dread in +Egypt. None seemed to know exactly what they dreaded, but all thought +that it had to do with death. People went about mournfully looking over +their shoulders as though someone were following them, and at night +they gathered together in knots and talked in whispers. Only the +Hebrews seemed to be glad and happy. Moreover, they were making +preparations for something new and strange. Thus those Israelitish +women who dwelt in Memphis began to sell what property they had and to +borrow of the Egyptians. Especially did they ask for the loan of +jewels, saying that they were about to celebrate a feast and wished to +look fine in the eyes of their countrymen. None refused them what they +asked because all were afraid of them. They even came to the palace and +begged her ornaments from Merapi, although she was a countrywoman of +their own who had showed them much kindness. Yes, and seeing that her +son wore a little gold circlet on his hair, one of them begged that +also, nor did she say her nay. But, as it chanced, the Prince entered, +and seeing the woman with this royal badge in her hand, grew very angry +and forced her to restore it. + +“What is the use of crowns without heads to wear them?” she +sneered, and fled away laughing, with all that she had gathered. + +After she had heard that saying Merapi grew even sadder and more +distraught than she was before, and from her the trouble crept to Seti. +He too became sad and ill at ease, though when I asked him why he vowed +he did not know, but supposed it was because some new plague drew near. + +“Yet,” he added, “as I have made shift to live through nine +of them, I do not know why I should fear a tenth.” + +Still he did fear it, so much that he consulted Bakenkhonsu as to +whether there were any means by which the anger of the gods could be +averted. + +Bakenkhonsu laughed and said he thought not, since always if the gods +were not angry about one thing they were angry about another. Having +made the world they did nothing but quarrel with it, or with other gods +who had a hand in its fashioning, and of these quarrels men were the +victims. + +“Bear your woes, Prince,” he added, “if any come, for ere the +Nile has risen another fifty times at most, whether they have or have +not been, will be the same to you.” + +“Then you think that when we go west we die indeed, and that Osiris is +but another name for the sunset, Bakenkhonsu.” + +The old Councillor shook his great head, and answered: + +“No. If ever you should lose one whom you greatly love, take comfort, +Prince, for I do not think that life ends with death. Death is the nurse +that puts it to sleep, no more, and in the morning it will wake again +to travel through another day with those who have companioned it from +the beginning.” + +“Where do all the days lead it to at last, Bakenkhonsu?” + +“Ask that of Ki; I do not know.” + +“To Set with Ki, I am angered with him,” said the Prince, and went +away. + +“Not without reason, I think,” mused Bakenkhonsu, but when I asked +him what he meant, he would not or could not tell me. + +So the gloom deepened and the palace, which had been merry in its way, +became sad. None knew what was coming, but all knew that something was +coming and stretched out their hands to strive to protect that which +they loved best from the stroke of the warring gods. In the case of +Seti and Merapi this was their son, now a beautiful little lad who +could run and prattle, one too of a strange health and vigour for a +child of the inbred race of the Ramessids. Never for a minute was this +boy allowed to be out of the sight of one or other of his parents; +indeed I saw little of Seti in those days and all our learned studies +came to nothing, because he was ever concerned with Merapi in playing +nurse to this son of his. + +When Userti was told of it, she said in the hearing of a friend of mine: + +“Without a doubt that is because he trains his bastard to fill the +throne of Egypt.” + +But, alas! all that the little Seti was doomed to fill was a coffin. + +It was a still, hot evening, so hot that Merapi had bid the nurse bring +the child’s bed and set it between two pillars of the great portico. +There on the bed he slept, lovely as Horus the divine. She sat by his +side in a chair that had feet shaped like to those of an antelope. Seti +walked up and down the terrace beyond the portico leaning on my +shoulder, and talking by snatches of this or that. Occasionally as he +passed he would stay for a while to make sure by the bright moonlight +that all was well with Merapi and the child, as of late it had become a +habit with him to do. Then without speaking, for fear lest he should +awake the boy, he would smile at Merapi, who sat there brooding, her +head resting on her hand, and pass on. + +The night was very still. The palm leaves did not rustle, no jackals +were stirring, and even the shrill-voiced insects had ceased their +cries. Moreover, the great city below was quiet as a home of the dead. +It was as though the presage of some advancing doom scared the world to +silence. For without doubt doom was in the air. All felt it down to the +nurse woman, who cowered close as she dared to the chair of her +mistress, and even in that heat shivered from time to time. + +Presently little Seti awoke, and began to prattle about something he had +dreamed. + +“What did you dream, my son?” asked his father. + +“I dreamed,” he answered in his baby talk, “that a woman, +dressed as Mother was in the temple, took me by the hand and led me into +the air. I looked down, and saw you and Mother with white faces and +crying. I began to cry too, but the woman with the feather cap told me +not as she was taking me to a beautiful big star where Mother would +soon come to find me.” + +The Prince and I looked at each other and Merapi feigned to busy herself +with hushing the child to sleep again. It drew towards midnight and +still no one seemed minded to go to rest. Old Bakenkhonsu appeared and +began to say something about the night being very strange and +unrestful, when, suddenly, a little bat that was flitting to and fro +above us fell upon his head and thence to the ground. We looked at it, +and saw that it was dead. + +“Strange that the creature should have died thus,” said +Bakenkhonsu, when, behold! another fell to the ground near by. The black +kitten which belonged to Little Seti saw it fall and darted from beside +his bed where it was sleeping. Before ever it reached the bat, the +creature wheeled round, stood upon its hind legs, scratching at the air +about it, then uttered one pitiful cry and fell over dead. + +We stared at it, when suddenly far away a dog howled in a very piercing +fashion. Then a cow began to bale as these beasts do when they have lost +their calves. Next, quite close at hand but without the gates, there +arose the ear-curdling cry of a woman in agony, which on the instant +seemed to be echoed from every quarter, till the air was full of +wailing. + +“Oh, Seti! Seti!” exclaimed Merapi, in a voice that was rather a +hiss than a whisper, “look at your son!” + +We sprang to where the babe lay, and looked. He had awakened and was +staring upward with wide-opened eyes and frozen face. The fear, if such +it were, passed from his features, though still he stared. He rose to +his little feet, always looking upwards. Then a smile came upon his +face, a most beautiful smile; he stretched out his arms, as though to +clasp one who bent down towards him, and fell backwards—quite dead. + +Seti stood still as a statue; we all stood still, even Merapi. Then she +bent down, and lifted the body of the boy. + +“Now, my lord,” she said, “there has fallen on you that +sorrow which Jabez my uncle warned you would come, if ever you had aught +to do with me. Now the curse of Israel has pierced my heart, and now +our child, as Ki the evil prophesied, has grown too great for +greetings, or even for farewells.” + +Thus she spoke in a cold and quiet voice, as one might speak of +something long expected or foreseen, then made her reverence to the +Prince, and departed, bearing the body of the child. Never, I think, +did Merapi seem more beautiful to me than in this, her hour of +bereavement, since now through her woman’s loveliness shone out some +shadow of the soul within. Indeed, such were her eyes and such her +movements that well might it have been a spirit and not a woman who +departed from us with that which had been her son. + +Seti leaned on my shoulder looking at the empty bed, and at the scared +nurse who still sat behind, and I felt a tear drop upon my hand. Old +Bakenkhonsu lifted his massive face, and looked at him. + +“Grieve not over much, Prince,” he said, “since, ere as many +years as I have lived out have come and gone, this child will be +forgotten and his mother will be forgotten, and even you, O Prince, +will live but as a name that once was great in Egypt. And then, O +Prince, elsewhere the game will begin afresh, and what you have lost +shall be found anew, and the sweeter for it sheltering from the vile +breath of men. Ki’s magic is not all a lie, or if his is, mine holds +some shadow of the truth, and when he said to you yonder in Tanis that +not for nothing were you named ‘Lord of Rebirths,’ he spoke words +that you should find comfortable to-night.” + +“I thank you, Councillor,” said Seti, and turning, followed Merapi. + +“Now I suppose we shall have more deaths,” I exclaimed, hardly +knowing what I said in my sorrow. + +“I think not, Ana,” answered Bakenkhonsu, “since the shield +of Jabez, or of his god, is over us. Always he foretold that trouble +would come to Merapi, and to Seti through Merapi, but that is all.” + +I glanced at the kitten. + +“It strayed here from the town three days ago, Ana. And the bats also +may have flown from the town. Hark to the wailing. Was ever such a +sound heard before in Egypt?” + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +JABEZ SELLS HORSES + + +Bakenkhonsu was right. Save the son of Seti alone, none died who dwelt +in or about his house, though elsewhere all the first-born of Egypt lay +dead, and the first-born of the beasts also. When this came to be known +throughout the land a rage seized the Egyptians against Merapi who, +they remembered, had called down woe on Egypt after she had been forced +to pray in the temple and, as they believed, to lift the darkness from +Memphis. + +Bakenkhonsu and I and others who loved her pointed out that her own +child had died with the rest. To this it was answered, and here I +thought I saw the fingers of Userti and of Ki, that it was nothing, +since witches did not love children. Moreover, they said she could have +as many as she liked and when she liked, making them to look like +children out of clay figures and to grow up into evil spirits to +torment the land. Lastly, people swore that she had been heard to say +that, although to do it she must kill her own lord’s son, she would +not on that account forego her vengeance on the Egyptians, who once had +treated her as a slave and murdered her father. Further, the Israelites +themselves, or some of them, mayhap Laban among them, were reported to +have told the Egyptians that it was the sorceress who had bewitched +Prince Seti who brought such great troubles on them. + +So it happened that the Egyptians came to hate Merapi, who of all women +was the sweetest and the most to be loved, and to her other supposed +crimes, added this also, that by her witcheries she had stolen the +heart of Seti away from his lawful wife and made him to turn that lady, +the Royal Princess of Egypt, even from his gates, so that she was +forced to dwell alone at Tanis. For in all these matters none blamed +Seti, whom everyone in Egypt loved, because it was known that he would +have dealt with the Israelites in a very different fashion, and thus +averted all the woes that had desolated the ancient land of Khem. As +for this matter of the Hebrew girl with the big eyes who chanced to have +thrown a spell upon him, that was his ill-fortune, nothing more. +Amongst the many women with whom they believed he filled his house, as +was the way of princes, it was not strange that one favourite should be +a witch. Indeed, I am certain that only because he was known to love +her, was Merapi saved from death by poison or in some other secret +fashion, at any rate for a while. + +Now came the glad tidings that the pride of Pharaoh was broken at last +(for his first-born child had died with the others), or that the cloud +of madness had lifted from his brain, whichever it might be, and that +he had decreed that the Children of Israel might depart from Egypt when +and whither they would. Then the people breathed again, seeing hope +that their miseries might end. + +It was at this time that Jabez appeared once more at Memphis, driving a +number of chariot horses, which he said he wished to sell to the +Prince, as he did not desire them to pass into any other hands. He was +admitted and stated the price of his horses, according to which they +must have been beasts of great value. + +“Why do you wish to sell your horses?” asked Seti. + +“Because I go with my people into lands where there is little water +and there they might die, O Prince.” + +“I will buy the horses. See to it, Ana,” said Seti, although I knew +well that already he had more than he needed. + +The Prince rose to show that the interview was ended, whereon Jabez, who +was bowing his thanks, said hurriedly: + +“I rejoice to learn, O Royal One, that things have befallen as I +foretold, or rather was bidden to foretell, and that the troubles which +have afflicted Egypt have passed by your dwelling.” + +“Then you rejoice to learn a falsehood, Hebrew, since the worst of +those troubles has made its home here. My son is dead,” and he turned +away. + +Jabez lifted his shifty eyes from the floor and glanced at him. + +“Prince,” he said, “I know and grieve because this loss has +cut you to the heart. Yet it was no fault of mine or of my people. If +you think, you will remember that both when I built a wall of +protection about this place because of your good deeds to Israel, O +Prince, and before, I warned, and caused you to be warned, that if you +and my niece, Moon of Israel, came together a great trouble might fall +on you through her who, having become the woman of an Egyptian in +defiance of command, must bear the fate of Egyptian women.” + +“It may be so,” said the Prince. “The matter is not one of +which I care to talk. If this death were wrought by the magic of your +wizards I have only this to say—that it is an ill payment to me in +return for all that I have striven to do on behalf of the Hebrews. Yet, +what else could I expect from such a people in such a world? +Farewell.” + +“One prayer, O Prince. I would ask your leave to speak with my niece, +Merapi.” + +“She is veiled. Since the murder of her child by wizardry, she sees no +man.” + +“Still I think she will see her uncle, O Prince.” + +“What then do you wish to say to her?” + +“O Prince, through the clemency of Pharaoh we poor slaves are about to +leave the land of Egypt never to return. Therefore, if my niece remains +behind, it is natural that I should wish to bid her farewell, and to +confide to her certain matters connected with our race and family, +which she might desire to pass on to her children.” + +Now when he heard this word “children” Seti softened. + +“I do not trust you,” he said. “You may be charged with more +of your Hebrew curses against Merapi, or you may say words to her that +will make her even unhappier than she is. Yet if you would wish to see +her in my presence——” + +“My lord Prince, I will not trouble you so far. Farewell. Be pleased +to convey——” + +“Or if that does not suit you,” interrupted Seti, “in the +presence of Ana here you can do so, unless she refuses to receive +you.” + +Jabez reflected for a moment, and answered: + +“Then in the presence of Ana let it be, since he is a man who knows +when to be silent.” + +Jabez made obeisance and departed, and at a sign from the Prince I +followed him. Presently we were ushered into the chamber of the lady +Merapi, where she sat looking most sad and lonely, with a veil of black +upon her head. + +“Greeting, my uncle,” she said, after glancing at me, whose +presence I think she understood. “Are you the bearer of more +prophecies? I pray not, since your last were overtrue,” and she +touched the black veil with her finger. + +“I am the bearer of tidings, and of a prayer, Niece. The tidings are +that the people of Israel are about to leave Egypt. The prayer, which +is also a command, is—that you make ready to accompany them——” + +“To Laban?” she asked, looking up. + +“No, my niece. Laban would not wish as a wife one who has been the +mistress of an Egyptian, but to play your part, however humble, in the +fortunes of our people.” + +“I am glad that Laban does not wish what he never could obtain, my +uncle. Tell me, I pray you, why should I hearken to this prayer, or +this command?” + +“For a good reason, Niece—that your life hangs on it. Heretofore +you have been suffered to take your heart’s desire. But if you bide in +Egypt where you have no longer a mission to fulfil, having done all that +was sought of you in keeping the mind of your lover, the Prince Seti, +true to the cause of Israel, you will surely die.” + +“You mean that our people will kill me?” + +“No, not our people. Still you will die.” + +She took a step towards him, and looked him in the eyes. + +“You are certain that I shall die, my uncle?” + +“I am, or at least others are certain.” + +Now she laughed; it was the first time I had seen her laugh for several +moons. + +“Then I will stay here,” she said. + +Jabez stared at her. + +“I thought that you loved this Egyptian, who indeed is worthy of any +woman’s love,” he muttered into his beard. + +“Perhaps it is because I love him that I wish to die. I have given him +all I have to give; there is nothing left of my poor treasure except +what will bring trouble and misfortune on his head. Therefore the +greater the love—and it is more great than all those pyramids massed +to one—the greater the need that it should be buried for a while. Do +you understand?” + +He shook his head. + +“I understand only that you are a very strange woman, different from +any other that I have known.” + +“My child, who was slain with the rest, was all the world to me, and I +would be where he is. Do you understand now?” + +“You would leave your life, in which, being young, you may have more +children, to lie in a tomb with your dead son?” he asked slowly, like +one astonished. + +“I only care for life while it can serve him whom I love, and if a day +comes when he sits upon the throne how will a daughter of the hated +Israelites serve him then? Also I do not wish for more children. Living +or dead, he that is gone owns all my heart; there is no room in it for +others. That love at least is pure and perfect, and having been +embalmed by death, can never change. Moreover, it is not in a tomb that +I shall lie with him, or so I believe. The faith of these Egyptians +which we despise tells of a life eternal in the heavens, and thither I +would go to seek that which is lost, and to wait that which is left +behind awhile.” + +“Ah!” said Jabez. “For my part I do not trouble myself with +these problems, who find in a life temporal on the earth enough to fill +my thoughts and hands. Yet, Merapi, you are a rebel, and whether in +heaven or on earth, how are rebels received by the king against whom +they have rebelled?” + +“You say I am a rebel,” she said, turning on him with flashing +eyes. “Why? Because I would not dishonour myself by marrying a man I +hate, one also who is a murderer, and because while I live I will not +desert a man whom I love to return to those who have done me naught but +evil. Did God then make women to be sold like cattle of the field for +the pleasure and the profit of him who can pay the highest?” + +“It seems so,” said Jabez, spreading out his hands. + +“It seems that you think so, who fashion God as you would wish him to +be, but for my part I do not believe it, and if I did, I should seek +another king. My uncle, I appeal from the priest and the elder to That +which made both them and me, and by Its judgment I will stand or +fall.” + +“Always a very dangerous thing to do,” reflected Jabez aloud, +“since the priest is apt to take the law into his own hands before the +cause can be pleaded elsewhere. Still, who am I that I should set up my +reasonings against one who can grind Amon to powder in his own +sanctuary, and who therefore may have warrant for all she thinks and +does?” + +Merapi stamped her foot. + +“You know well it was you who brought me the command to dare the god +Amon in his temple. It was not I——” she began. + +“I do know,” replied Jabez waving his hand. “I know also that +is what every wizard says, whatever his nation or his gods, and what no +one ever believes. Thus because, having faith, you obeyed the command +and through you Amon was smitten, among both the Israelites and the +Egyptians you are held to be the greatest sorceress that has looked +upon the Nile, and that is a dangerous repute, my niece.” + +“One to which I lay no claim, and never sought.” + +“Just so, but which all the same has come to you. Well, knowing as +without doubt you do all that will soon befall in Egypt, and having been +warned, if you needed warning, of the danger with which you yourself are +threatened, you still refuse to obey this second command which it is my +duty to deliver to you?” + +“I refuse.” + +“Then on your own head be it, and farewell. Oh! I would add that there +is a certain property in cattle, and the fruit of lands which descends +to you from your father. In the event of your death——” + +“Take it all, uncle, and may it prosper you. Farewell.” + +“A great woman, friend Ana, and a beautiful,” said the old Hebrew, +after he had watched her go. “I grieve that I shall never see her +again, and, indeed, that no one will see her for very long; for, +remember, she is my niece of whom I am fond. Now I too must be going, +having completed my errand. All good fortune to you, Ana. You are no +longer a soldier, are you? No? Believe me, it is as well, as you will +learn. My homage to the Prince. Think of me at times, when you grow +old, and not unkindly, seeing that I have served you as best I could, +and your master also, who I hope will soon find again that which he +lost awhile ago.” + +“Her Highness, Princess Userti,” I suggested. + +“The Princess Userti among other things, Ana. Tell the Prince, if he +should deem them costly, that those horses which I sold him are really +of the finest Syrian blood, and of a strain that my family has owned +for generations. If you should chance to have any friend whose welfare +you desire, let him not go into the desert soldiering during the next +few moons, especially if Pharaoh be in command. Nay, I know nothing, +but it is a season of great storm. Farewell, friend Ana, and again +farewell.” + +“Now what did he mean by that?” thought I to myself, as I departed +to make my report to Seti. But no answer to the question rose in my +mind. + +Very soon I began to understand. It appeared that at length the +Israelites were leaving Egypt, a vast horde of them, and with them tens +of thousands of Arabs of various tribes who worshipped their god and +were, some of them, descended from the people of the Hyksos, the +shepherds who once ruled in Egypt. That this was true was proved to us +by the tidings which reached us that all the Hebrew women who dwelt in +Memphis, even those of them who were married to Egyptians, had departed +from the city, leaving behind them their men and sometimes their +children. Indeed, before these went, certain of them who had been +friends visited Merapi, and asked her if she were not coming also. She +shook her head as she replied: + +“Why do you go? Are you so fond of journeyings in the desert that for +the sake of them you are ready never again to look upon the men you +love and the children of your bodies?” + +“No, Lady,” they answered, weeping. “We are happy here in +white-walled Memphis and here, listening to the murmur of the Nile, we +would grow old and die, rather than strive to keep house in some desert +tent with a stranger or alone. Yet fear drives us hence.” + +“Fear of what?” + +“Of the Egyptians who, when they come to understand all that they have +suffered at our hands in return for the wealth and shelter which they +have given us for many generations, whereby we have grown from a +handful into a great people, will certainly kill any Israelite whom +they find left among them. Also we fear the curses of our priests who +bid us to depart.” + +“Then _I_ should fear these things also,” said Merapi. + +“Not so, Lady, seeing that being the only beloved of the Prince of +Egypt who, rumour tells us, will soon be Pharaoh of Egypt, by him you +will be protected from the anger of the Egyptians. And being, as we all +know well, the greatest sorceress in the world, the overthrower of +Amon-Ra the mighty, and one who by sacrificing her child was able to +ward away every plague from the household where she dwelt, you have +naught to fear from priests and their magic.” + +Then Merapi sprang up, bidding them to leave her to her fate and to be +gone to their own, which they did hastily enough, fearing lest she +should cast some spell upon them. So it came about that presently the +fair Moon of Israel and certain children of mixed blood were all of the +Hebrew race that were left in Egypt. Then, notwithstanding the miseries +and misfortunes that during the past few years by terror, death, and +famine had reduced them to perhaps one half of their number, the people +of Egypt rejoiced with a great joy. + +In every temple of every god processions were held and offerings made by +those who had anything left to offer, while the statues of the gods +were dressed in fine new garments and hung about with garlandings of +flowers. Moreover, on the Nile and on the sacred lakes boats floated to +and fro, adorned with lanterns as at the feast of the Rising of Osiris. +As titular high-priest of Amon, an office of which he could not be +deprived while he lived, Prince Seti attended these demonstrations, +which indeed he must do, in the great temple of Memphis, whither I +accompanied him. When the ceremonies were over he led the procession +through the masses of the worshippers, clad in his splendid sacerdotal +robes, whereon every throat of the thousands present there greeted him +in a shout of thunder as “Pharaoh!” or at least as Pharaoh’s +heir. + +When at length the shouting died, he turned upon them and said: + +“Friends, if you would send me to be of the company that sits at the +table of Osiris and not at Pharaoh’s feasts, you will repeat this +foolish greeting, whereof our Lord Amenmeses will hear with little +joy.” + +In the silence that followed a voice called out: + +“Have no fear, O Prince, while the Hebrew witch sleeps night by night +upon your bosom. She who could smite Egypt with so many plagues can +certainly shelter you from harm;” whereon the roars of acclamation +went up again. + +It was on the following day that Bakenkhonsu the aged returned with more +tidings from Tanis, where he had been upon a visit. It seemed that a +great council had been held there in the largest hall of one of the +largest temples. At this council, which was open to all the people, +Amenmeses had given report on the matter of the Israelites who, he +stated, were departing in their thousands. Also offerings were made to +appease the angry gods of Egypt. When the ceremony was finished, but +before the company broke up in a heavy mood, her Highness the Princess +Userti rose in her place, and addressed Pharaoh: + +“By the spirits of our fathers,” she cried, “and more +especially by that of the good god Meneptah, my begetter, I ask of you, +Pharaoh, and I ask of you, O people, whether the affront that has been +put upon us by these Hebrew slaves and their magicians is one that the +proud land of Egypt should be called upon to bear? Our gods have been +smitten and defied; woes great and terrible, such as history tells not +of, have fallen upon us through magic; tens of thousands, from the +first-born child of Pharaoh down, have perished in a single night. And +now these Hebrews, who have murdered them by sorcery, for they are +sorcerers all, men and women together, especially one of them who sits +at Memphis, of whom I will not speak because she has wrought me private +harm, by the decree of Pharaoh are to be suffered to leave the land. +More, they are to take with them all their cattle, all their threshed +corn, all the treasure they have hoarded for generations, and all the +ornaments of price and wealth that they have wrung by terror from our +own people, borrowing that which they never purpose to return. +Therefore I, the Royal Princess of Egypt, would ask of Pharaoh, is this +the decree of Pharaoh?” + +“Now,” said Bakenkhonsu, “Pharaoh sat with hanging head upon +his throne and made no answer.” + +“Pharaoh does not speak,” went on Userti. “Then I ask, is +this the decree of the Council of Pharaoh and of the people of Egypt? +There is still a great army in Egypt, hundreds of chariots and +thousands of footmen. Is this army to sit still while these slaves +depart into the desert there to rouse our enemies of Syria against us +and return with them to butcher us?” + +“At these words,” continued Bakenkhonsu, “from all that +multitude there went up a shout of ‘No.’” + +“The people say No. What saith Pharaoh?” cried Userti. + +There followed a silence, till suddenly Amenmeses rose and spoke: + +“Have it as you will, Princess, and on your head and the heads of all +these whom you have stirred up let the evil fall if evil comes, though I +think it is your husband, the Prince Seti, who should stand where you +stand and put up this prayer in your place.” + +“My husband, the Prince Seti, is tied to Memphis by a rope of +witch’s hair, or so they tell me,” she sneered, while the people +murmured in assent. + +“I know not,” went on Amenmeses, “but this I know that always +the Prince would have let these Hebrews go from among us, and at times, +as sorrow followed sorrow, I have thought that he was right. Truly more +than once I also would have let them go, but ever some Strength, I know +not what, descended on my heart, turning it to stone, and wrung from me +words that I did not desire to utter. Even now I would let them go, but +all of you are against me, and, perchance, if I withstand you, I shall +pay for it with my life and throne. Captains, command that my armies be +made ready, and let them assemble here at Tanis that I myself may lead +them after the people of Israel and share their dangers.” + +Then with a mighty shouting the company broke up, so that at the last +all were gone and only Pharaoh remained seated upon his throne, staring +at the ground with the air, said Bakenkhonsu, rather of one who is dead +than of a living king about to wage war upon his foes. + +To all these words the Prince listened in silence, but when they were +finished he looked up and asked: + +“What think you, Bakenkhonsu?” + +“I think, O Prince,” answered the wise old man, “that her +Highness did ill to stir up this matter, though doubtless she spoke with +the voices of the priests and of the army, against which Pharaoh was +not strong enough to stand.” + +“What you think, I think,” said Seti. + +At this moment the lady Merapi entered. + +“I hear, my lord,” she said, “that Pharaoh purposes to pursue +the people of Israel with his host. I come to pray my lord that he will +not join himself to the host of Pharaoh.” + +“It is but natural, Lady, that you should not wish me to make war upon +your kin, and to speak truth I have no mind that way,” replied Seti, +and, turning, left the chamber with her. + +“She is not thinking of her king but of her lover’s life,” +said Bakenkhonsu. “She is not a witch as they declare, but it is true +that she knows what we do not.” + +“Yes,” I answered, “it is true.” + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +THE DREAM OF MERAPI + + +A while went by; it may have been fourteen days, during which we heard +that the Israelites had started on their journey. They were a mighty +multitude who bore with them the coffin and the mummy of their prophet, +a man of their blood, Vizier, it is reported, to that Pharaoh who +welcomed them to Egypt hundreds of years before. Some said they went +this way and some that, but Bakenkhonsu, who knew everything, declared +that they were heading for the Lake of Crocodiles, which others name +Sea of Reeds, whereby they would cross into the desert beyond, and +thence to Syria. I asked him how, seeing that at its narrowest part, +this lake was six thousand paces in width, and that the depth of its mud + was unfathomable. He replied that he did not know, but that I might do +well to inquire of the lady Merapi. + +“So you have changed your mind, and also think her a witch,” I +said, to which he answered: + +“One must breathe the wind that blows, and Egypt is so full of +witchcraft that it is difficult to say. Also it was she and no other +who destroyed the ancient statue of Amon. Oh! yes, witch or no witch, +it might be well to ask her how her people purpose to cross the Sea of +Reeds, especially if Pharaoh’s chariots chance to be behind them.” + +So I did ask her, but she answered that she knew nothing of the matter, +and wished to know nothing, seeing that she had separated from her +people, and remained in Egypt. + +Then Ki came, I know not whence, and having made his peace with Seti as +to the dressing of Merapi in the robes of Isis which, he vowed, was +done by the priests against his wish, told us that Pharaoh and a great +host had started to pursue the Israelites. The Prince asked him why he +had not gone with the host, to which he replied that he was no soldier, +also that Pharaoh hid his face from him. In return he asked the Prince +why _he_ had not gone. + +Seti answered, because he had been deprived of his command with his +other officers and had no wish to take share in this business as a +private citizen. + +“You are wise, as always, Prince,” said Ki. + +It was on the following night, very late, while the Prince, Ki, +Bakenkhonsu and I, Ana, sat talking, that suddenly the lady Merapi +broke in upon us as she had risen from her bed, wild-eyed, and with her +hair flowing down her robes. + +“I have dreamed a dream!” she cried. “I dreamed that I saw +all the thousands of my people following after a flame that burned from +earth to heaven. They came to the edge of a great water and behind them +rushed Pharaoh and all the hosts of the Egyptians. Then my people ran +on to the face of the water, and it bore them as though it were sound +land. Now the soldiers of the Pharaoh were following, but the gods of +Egypt appeared, Amon, Osiris, Horus, Isis, Hathor, and the rest, and +would have turned them back. Still they refused to listen, and dragging +the gods with them, rushed out upon the water. Then darkness fell, and +in the darkness sounds of wailing and of a mighty laughter. It passed, +the moon rose, shining upon emptiness. I awoke, trembling in my limbs. +Interpret me this dream if you can, O Ki, Master of Magic.” + +“Where is the need, Lady,” he answered, awaking as though from +sleep, “when the dreamer is also the seer? Shall the pupil venture to +instruct the teacher, or the novice to make plain the mysteries to the +high-priestess of the temple? Nay, Lady, I and all the magicians of +Egypt are beneath your feet.” + +“Why will you ever mock me?” she said, and as she spoke, she +shivered. + +Then Bakenkhonsu opened his lips, saying: + +“The wisdom of Ki has been buried in a cloud of late, and gives no +light to us, his disciples. Yet the meaning of this dream is plain, +though whether it be also true I do not know. It is that all the host +of Egypt, and with it the gods of Egypt, are threatened with +destruction because of the Israelites, unless one to whom they will +hearken can be found to turn them from some purpose that I do not +understand. But to whom will the mad hearken, oh! to whom will they +hearken?” and lifting his great head, he looked straight at the +Prince. + +“Not to me, I fear, who now am no one in Egypt,” said Seti. + +“Why not to you, O Prince, who to-morrow may be everyone in Egypt?” +asked Bakenkhonsu. “Always you have pleaded the cause of the Hebrews, +and said that naught but evil would befall Egypt because of them, as +has happened. To whom, then, will the people and the army listen more +readily?” + +“Moreover, O Prince,” broke in Ki, “a lady of your household +has dreamed a very evil dream, of which, if naught be said, it might be +held that it was no dream, but a spell of power aimed against the +majesty of Egypt; such a spell as that which cast great Amon from his +throne, such a spell as that which has set a magic fence around this +house and field.” + +“Again I tell you that I weave no spells, O Ki, who with my own child +have paid the price of them.” + +“Yet spells were woven, Lady, and as has been known from of old, +strength is perfected in sacrifice alone,” Ki answered darkly. + +“Have done with your talk of spells, Magician,” exclaimed the +Prince, “or if you must speak of them, speak of your own, which are +many. It was Jabez who protected us here against the plagues, and the +statue of Amon was shattered by some god.” + +“I ask your pardon, Prince,” said Ki bowing, “it was +_not_ this lady but her uncle who fenced your house against the plagues +which ravaged Egypt, and it was _not_ this lady but some god working in +her which overthrew Amon of Tanis. The Prince has said it. Yet this lady +has dreamed a certain dream which Bakenkhonsu has interpreted although +I cannot, and I think that Pharaoh and his captains should be told of +the dream, that on it they may form their own judgment.” + +“Then why do you not tell them, Ki?” + +“It has pleased Pharaoh, O Prince, to dismiss me from his service as +one who failed and to give my office of Kherheb to another. If I appear +before the face of Pharaoh I shall be killed.” + +Now I, Ana, listening, wished that Ki would appear before the face of +Pharaoh, although I did not believe that he could be killed by him or +by anybody else, since against death he had charms. For I was afraid of +Ki, and felt in myself that again he was plotting evil to Merapi whom I +knew to be innocent. + +The Prince walked up and down the chamber as was his fashion when lost +in thought. Presently he stopped opposite to me and said: + +“Friend Ana, be pleased to command that my chariots be made ready with +a general’s escort of a hundred men and spare horses to each chariot. +We ride at dawn, you and I, to seek out the army of Pharaoh and pray +audience of Pharaoh.” + +“My lord,” said Merapi in a kind of cry, “I pray you go not, +leaving me alone.” + +“Why should I leave you, Lady? Come with me if you will.” She shook +her head, saying: + +“I dare not. Prince, there has been some charm upon me of late that +draws me back to my own people. Twice in the night I have awakened and +found myself in the gardens with my face set towards the north, and +heard a voice in my ears, even that of my father who is dead, saying: + +“‘Moon of Israel, thy people wander in the wilderness and need thy +light.’ + +“It is certain therefore that if I came near to them I should be +dragged down as wood is dragged of an eddy, nor would Egypt see me any +more.” + +“Then I pray you bide where you are, Merapi,” said the Prince, +laughing a little, “since it is certain that where you go I must +follow, who have no desire to wander in the wilderness with your Hebrew +folk. Well, it seems that as you do not wish to leave Memphis and will +not come with me, I must stay with you.” + +Ki fixed his piercing eyes upon the pair of them. + +“Let the Prince forgive me,” he said, “but I swear it by the +gods that never did I think to live to hear the Prince Seti Meneptah set +a woman’s whims before his honour.” + +“Your words are rough,” said Seti, drawing himself up, “and +had they been spoken in other days, mayhap, Ki——” + +“Oh! my lord,” said Ki prostrating himself till his forehead +touched the ground, “bethink you then how great must be the need which +makes me dare to speak them. When first I came hither from the court of +Tanis, the spirit that is within me speaking through my lips gave +certain titles to your Highness, for which your Highness was pleased to +reprove me. Yet the spirit in me cannot lie and I know well, and bid +all here make record of my words, that to-night I stand in the presence +of him who ere two moons have passed will be crowned Pharaoh.” + +“Truly you were ever a bearer of ill-tidings, Ki, but if so, what of +it?” + +“This your Highness: Were it not that the spirits of Truth and Right +compel me for their own reasons, should I, who have blood that can be +shed or bones that can be broken, dare to hurl hard words at him who +will be Pharaoh? Should I dare to cross the will of the sweet dove who +nestles on his heart, the wise, white dove that murmurs the mysteries +of heaven, whence she came, and is stronger than the vulture of Isis +and swifter than the hawk of Ra; the dove that, were she angry, could +rend me into more fragments than did Set Osiris?” + +Now I saw Bakenkhonsu begin to swell with inward laughter like a frog +about to croak, but Seti answered in a weary voice: + +“By all the birds of Egypt with the sacred crocodiles thrown in, I do +not know, since that mind of yours, Ki, is not an open writing which +can be read by the passer-by. Still, if you would tell me what is the +reason with which the goddesses of Truth and Justice have inspired +you——” + +“The reason is, O Prince, that the fate of all Egypt’s army may be +hidden in your hand. The time is short and I will be plain. Deny it as +she will this lady here, who seems to be but a thing of love and +beauty, is the greatest sorceress in Egypt, as I whom she has mastered +know well. She matched herself against the high god of Egypt and smote +him to the dust, and has paid back upon him, his prophets, and his +worshippers the ills that he would have worked to her, as in the like +case any of our fellowship would do. Now she has dreamed a dream, or +her spirit has told her that the army of Egypt is in danger of +destruction, and I know that this dream is true. Hasten then, O Prince, +to save the hosts of Egypt, which you will surely need when you come to +sit upon its throne.” + +“I am no sorceress,” cried Merapi, “and yet—alas! that +I must say it—this smiling-featured, cold-eyed wizard’s words are +true. _The sword of death hangs over the hosts of Egypt!_” + +“Command that the chariots be made ready,” said Seti again. + +Eight days had gone by. It was sunset and we drew rein over against the +Sea of Reeds. Day and night we had followed the army of Pharaoh across +the wilderness on a road beaten down by his chariot wheels and +soldiers, and by the tens of thousands of the Israelites who had passed +that way before them. Now from the ridge where we had halted we saw it +encamped beneath us, a very great army. Moreover, stragglers told us +that beyond, also encamped, was the countless horde of the Israelites, +and beyond these the vast Sea of Reeds which barred their path. But we +could not see them for a very strange reason. Between these and the +army of Pharaoh rose a black wall of cloud, built as it were from earth +to heaven. One of those stragglers of whom I have spoken, told us that +this cloud travelled before the Israelites by day, but at night was +turned into a pillar of fire. Only on this day, when the army of +Pharaoh approached, it had moved round and come between the people of +Israel and the army. + +Now when the Prince, Bakenkhonsu, and I heard these things we looked at +each other and were silent. Only presently the Prince laughed a little, +and said: + +“We should have brought Ki with us, even if we had to carry him bound, +that he might interpret this marvel, for it is sure that no one else +can.” + +“It would be hard to keep Ki bound, Prince, if he wished to go +free,” answered Bakenkhonsu. “Moreover, before ever we entered the +chariots at Memphis he had departed south for Thebes. I saw him go.” + +“And I gave orders that he should not be allowed to return, for I hold +him an ill guest, or so thinks the lady Merapi,” replied Seti with a +sigh. + +“Now that we are here what would the Prince do?” I asked. + +“Descend to the camp of Pharaoh and say what we have to say, Ana.” + +“And if he will not listen, Prince?” + +“Then cry our message aloud and return.” + +“And if he will not suffer us to return, Prince?” + +“Then stand still and live or die as the gods may decree.” + +“Truly our lord has a great heart!” exclaimed Bakenkhonsu, +“and though I feel over young to die, I am minded to see the end of +this matter with him,” and he laughed aloud. + +But I who was afraid thought that _O-ho-ho_ of his, which the sky seemed +to echo back upon our heads, a strange and indeed a fearful sound. + +Then we put on robes of ceremony that we had brought with us, but +neither swords nor armour, and having eaten some food, drove on with +the half of our guard towards the place where we saw the banners of +Pharaoh flying about his pavilion. The rest of our guard we left +encamped, bidding them, if aught happened to us, to return and make +report at Memphis and in the other great cities. As we drew near to the +camp the outposts saw us and challenged. But when they perceived by the +light of the setting sun who it was that they challenged, a murmur went +through them, of: + +“The Prince of Egypt! The Prince of Egypt!” for so they had never +ceased to name Seti, and they saluted with their spears and let us pass. + +So at length we came to the pavilion of Pharaoh, round about which a +whole regiment stood on guard. The sides of it were looped up high +because of the heat of the night which was great, and within sat +Pharaoh, his captains, his councillors, his priests, his magicians, and +many others at meat or serving food and drink. They sat at a table that +was bent like a bow, with their faces towards the entrance, and Pharaoh +was in the centre of the table with his fan-bearers and butlers behind +him. + +We advanced into the pavilion, the Prince in the centre, Bakenkhonsu +leaning on his staff on the right hand, and I, wearing the gold chain +that Pharaoh Meneptah had given me, on the left, but those with us +remained among the guard at the entrance. + +“Who are these?” asked Amenmeses, looking up, “who come here +unbidden?” + +“Three citizens of Egypt who have a message for Pharaoh,” answered +Seti in his quiet voice, “which we have travelled fast and far to +speak in time.” + +“How are you named, citizens of Egypt, and who sends your message?” + +“We are named, Seti Meneptah aforetime Prince of Egypt, and heir to +its crown; Bakenkhonsu the aged Councillor, and Ana the scribe and +King’s Companion, and our message is from the gods.” + +“We have heard those names, who has not?” said Pharaoh, and as he +spoke all, or very nearly all, the company rose, or half rose, and bowed +towards the Prince. “Will you and your companions be seated and eat, +Prince Seti Meneptah?” + +“We thank the divine Pharaoh, but we have already eaten. Have we +Pharaoh’s leave to deliver our message?” + +“Speak on, Prince.” + +“O Pharaoh, many moons have gone by, since last we looked upon each +other face to face, on that day when my father, the good god Meneptah, +disinherited me, and afterwards fled hence to Osiris. Pharaoh will +remember why I was thus cut off from the royal root of Egypt. It was +because of the matter of these Israelites, who in my judgment had been +evilly dealt by, and should be suffered to leave our land. The good god +Meneptah, being so advised by you and others, O Pharaoh, would have +smitten the Israelites with the sword, making an end of them, and to +this he demanded my assent as the Heir of Egypt. I refused that assent +and was cast out, and since then, you, O Pharaoh, have worn the double +crown, while I have dwelt as a citizen of Memphis, living upon such +lands and revenues as are my own. Between that hour and this, O +Pharaoh, many griefs have smitten Egypt, and the last of them cost you +your first-born, and me mine. Yet through them all, O Pharaoh, you have +refused to let these Hebrews go, as I counselled should be done at the +beginning. At length after the death of the first-born, your decree was +issued that they might go. Yet now you follow them with a great army +and purpose to do to them what my father, the good god Meneptah, would +have done, had I consented, namely—to destroy them with the sword. +Hear me, Pharaoh!” + +“I hear; also the case is well if briefly set. What else would the +Prince Seti say?” + +“This, O Pharaoh. That I pray you to return with all your host from +the following of these Hebrews, not to-morrow or the next day, but at +once—this night.” + +“Why, O Prince?” + +“Because of a certain dream that a lady of my household who is Hebrew +has dreamed, which dream foretells destruction to you and the army of +Egypt, unless you hearken to these words of mine.” + +“I think that we know of this snake whom you have taken to dwell in +your bosom, whence it may spit poison upon Egypt. It is named Merapi, +Moon of Israel, is it not?” + +“That is the name of the lady who dreamed the dream,” replied Seti +in a cold voice, though I felt him tremble with anger at my side, “the +dream that if Pharaoh wills my companions here shall set out word for +word to his magicians.” + +“Pharaoh does not will it,” shouted Amenmeses smiting the board +with his fist, “because Pharaoh knows that it is but another trick to +save these wizards and thieves from the doom that they have earned.” + +“Am I then a worker of tricks, O Pharaoh? If I had been such, why have +I journeyed hither to give warning, when by sitting yonder at Memphis +to-morrow, I might once more have become heir to the double crown? For +if you will not hearken to me, I tell you that very soon you shall be +dead, and with you these”—and he pointed to all those who sat at +table—“and with them the great army that lies without. Ere you +speak, tell me, what is that black cloud which stands before the camp of +the Hebrews? Is there no answer? Then I will give you the answer. It is +the pall that shall wrap the bones of every one of you.” + +Now the company shivered with fear, yes, even the priests and the +magicians shivered. But Pharaoh went mad with rage. Springing from his +seat, he snatched at the double crown upon his head, and hurled it to +the ground, and I noted that the golden uræus band about it, rolled +away, and rested upon Seti’s sandalled foot. He tore his robes and +shouted: + +“At least our fate shall be your fate, Renegade, who have sold Egypt +to the Hebrew witch in payment of her kisses. Seize this man and his +companions, and when we go down to battle against these Israelites +to-morrow after the darkness lifts, let them be set with the captains +of the van. So shall the truth be known at last.” + +Thus Pharaoh commanded, and Seti, answering nothing, folded his arms +upon his breast and waited. + +Men rose from their seats as though to obey Pharaoh and sank back to +them again. Guards started forward and yet remained standing where they +were. Then Bakenkhonsu burst into one of his great laughs. + +“O-ho-ho,” he laughed, “Pharaohs have I seen come and go, one +and two and three, and four and five, but never yet have I seen a +Pharaoh whom none of his councillors or guards could obey however much +they willed it. When you are Pharaoh, Prince Seti, may your luck be +better. Your arm, Ana, my friend, and lead on, Royal Heir of Egypt. The +truth is shown to blind eyes that will not see. The word is spoken to +deaf ears that will not hearken, and the duty done. Night falls. Sleep +ye well, ye bidden of Osiris, sleep ye well!” + +Then we turned and walked from that pavilion. At its entrance I looked +back, and in the low light that precedes the darkness, it seemed to me +as though all seated there were already dead. Blue were their faces and +hollow shone their eyes, and from their lips there came no word. Only +they stared at us as we went, and stared and stared again. + +Without the door of the pavilion, by command of the Prince, I called +aloud the substance of the lady Merapi’s dream, and warned all within +earshot to cease from pursuing the people of Israel, if they would +continue to live to look upon the sun. Yet even now, although to speak +thus was treason against Pharaoh, none lifted a hand against the +Prince, or against me his servant. Often since then I have wondered why +this was so, and found no answer to my questionings. Mayhap it was +because of the majesty of my master, whom all knew to be the true +Pharaoh, and loved at heart. Mayhap it was because they were sure that +he would not have travelled so far and placed himself in the power of +Amenmeses save to work the armies of Egypt good, and not ill, and to +bring them a message that had been spoken by the gods themselves. + +Or mayhap it was because he was still hedged about by that protection +which the Hebrews had vowed to him through their prophets with the +voice of Jabez. At least so it happened. Pharaoh might command, but his +servants would not obey. Moreover, the story spread, and that night +many deserted from the host of Pharaoh and encamped about us, or fled +back towards the cities whence they came. Also with them were not a few +councillors and priests who had talked secretly with Bakenkhonsu. So it +chanced that even if Pharaoh desired to make an end of us, as perhaps +he purposed to do in the midnight watches, he thought it wisest to let +the matter lie until he had finished with the people of Israel. + +It was a very strange night, silent, with a heavy, stirless air. There +were no stars, but the curtain of black cloud which seemed to hang +beyond the camp of the Egyptians was alive with lightnings which +appeared to shape themselves to letters that I could not read. + +“Behold the Book of Fate written in fire by the hand of God!” said +Bakenkhonsu, as he watched. + +About midnight a mighty east wind began to blow, so strongly that we +must lie upon our faces under the lea of the chariots. Then the wind +died away and we heard tumult and shoutings, both from the camp of +Egypt, and from the camp of Israel beyond the cloud. Next there came a +shock as of earthquake, which threw those of us who were standing to +the ground, and by a blood-red moon that now appeared we perceived that +all the army of Pharaoh was beginning to move towards the sea. + +“Whither go they?” I asked of the Prince who clung to my arm. + +“To doom, I think,” he answered, “but to what doom I do not +know.” + +After this we said no more, because we were too much afraid. + +Dawn came at last, showing the most awful sight that was ever beheld by +the eye of man. + +The wall of cloud had disappeared, and in the clear light of the +morning, we perceived that the deep waters of the Sea of Reeds had +divided themselves, leaving a raised roadway that seemed to have been +cleared by the wind, or perchance to have been thrown up by the +earthquake. Who can say? Not I who never set foot upon that path of +death. Along this wide road streamed the tens of thousands of the +Israelites, passing between the water on the right hand, and the water +on the left, and after them followed all the army of Pharaoh, save +those who had deserted, and stood or lay around us, watching. We could +even see the golden chariots that marked the presence of Pharaoh +himself, and of his bodyguard, deep in the heart of the broken host +that struggled forward without discipline or order. + +“What now? Oh! what now?” murmured Seti, and as he spoke there was +a second shock of earthquake. Then to the west on the sea there arose a +mighty wave, whereof the crest seemed to be high as a pyramid. It +rolled forward with a curved and foaming head, and in the hollow of it +for a moment, no more, we saw the army of Egypt. Yet in that moment I +seemed to see mighty shapes fleeing landwards along the crest of the +wave, which shapes I took to be the gods of Egypt, pursued by a form of +light and glory that drove them as with a scourge. They came, they +went, accompanied by a sound of wailing, and the wave fell. + +But beyond it, the hordes of Israel still marched—upon the further +shore. + +Dense gloom followed, and through the gloom I saw, or thought I saw, +Merapi, Moon of Israel, standing before us with a troubled face and +heard or thought I heard her cry: + +“_Oh! help me, my lord Seti! Help me, my lord Seti!_” + +Then she too was gone. + +“Harness the chariots!” cried Seti, in a hollow voice. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +THE CROWNING OF MERAPI + + +Fast as sped our horses, rumour, or rather the truth, carried by those +who had gone before us, flew faster. Oh! that journey was as a dream +begotten by the evil gods. On we galloped through the day and through +the night and lo! at every town and village women rushed upon us +crying: + +“Is it true, O travellers, is it true that Pharaoh and his host are +perished in the sea?” + +Then old Bakenkhonsu would call in answer: + +“It is true that he who _was_ Pharaoh and his host are perished in +the sea. But lo! here is he who _is_ Pharaoh,” and he pointed to the +Prince, who took no heed and said nothing, save: + +“On! On!” + +Then forward we would plunge again till once more the sound of wailing +died into silence. + +It was sunset, and at length we drew near to the gates of Memphis. The +Prince turned to me and spoke. + +“Heretofore I have not dared to ask,” he said, “but tell me, +Ana. In the gloom after the great cliff of water fell and the shapes of +terror swept by, did you seem to see a woman stand before us and did +you seem to hear her speak?” + +“I did, O Prince.” + +“Who was that woman and what did she say?” + +“She was one who bore a child to you, O Prince, which child is not, +and she said, ‘Oh! help me, my lord Seti. Help me, my lord +Seti!’” + +His face grew ashen even beneath its veil of dust, and he groaned. + +“Two who loved her have seen and two who loved her have heard,” he +said. “There is no room for doubt. Ana, she is dead!” + +“I pray the gods——” + +“Pray not, for the gods of Egypt are also dead, slain by the god of +Israel. Ana, who has murdered her?” + +With my finger I who am a draughtsman drew in the thick dust that lay on +the board of the chariot the brows of a man and beneath them two deep +eyes. The gilt on the board where the sun caught it looked like light +in the eyes. + +The Prince nodded and said: + +“Now we shall learn whether great magicians such as Ki can die like +other men. Yes, if need be, to learn that I will put on Pharaoh’s +crown.” + +We halted at the gates of Memphis. They were shut and barred, but from +within the vast city rose a sound of tumult. + +“Open!” cried the Prince to the guard. + +“Who bids me open?” answered the captain of the gate peering at us, +for the low sun lay behind. + +“Pharaoh bids you open.” + +“Pharaoh!” said the man. “We have sure tidings that Pharaoh +and his armies are slain by wizardry in the sea.” + +“Fool!” thundered the Prince, “Pharaoh never dies. Pharaoh +Amenmeses is with Osiris but the good god Seti Meneptah who _is_ Pharaoh +bids you open.” + +Then the bronze gates rolled back, and those who guarded them prostrated +themselves in the dust. + +“Man,” I called to the captain, “what means yonder +shouting?” + +“Sir,” he answered, “I do not know, but I am told that the +witch who has brought woe on Egypt and by magic caused the death of +Pharaoh Amenmeses and his armies, dies by fire in the place before the +temple.” + +“By whose command?” I cried again as the charioteer flogged the +horses, but no answer reached our ears. + +We rushed on up the wide street to the great place that was packed with +tens of thousands of the people. We drove the horses at them. + +“Way for Pharaoh! Way for the Mighty One, the good god, Seti Meneptah, +King of the Upper and the Lower Land!” shouted the escort. + +The people turned and saw the tall shape of the Prince still clad in the +robes of state which he had worn when he stood before Amenmeses in the +pavilion by the sea. + +“Pharaoh! Pharaoh! Hail to Pharaoh!” they cried, prostrating +themselves, and the cry passed on through Memphis like a wind. + +Now we were come to the centre of the place, and there in front of the +great gates of the temple burned a vast pyre of wood. Before the pyre +moved figures, in one of whom I knew Ki dressed in his magician’s +robe. Outside of these there was a double circle of soldiers who kept +the people back, which these needed, for they raved like madmen and +shook their fists. A group of priests near the fire separated, and I +saw that among them stood a man and a woman, the latter with +dishevelled hair and torn robes as though she had been roughly handled. +At this moment her strength seemed to fail her and she sank to the +ground, lifting her face as she did so. It was the face of Merapi, Moon +of Israel. + +So she was not dead. The man at her side stooped as though to lift her +up, but a stone thrown out of the shadow struck him in the back and +caused him to straighten himself, which he did with a curse at the +thrower. I knew the voice at once, although the speaker was disguised. + +It was that of Laban the Israelite, he who had been betrothed to Merapi, +and had striven to murder us in the land of Goshen. What did he here? I +wondered dimly. + +Ki was speaking. “Hark how the Hebrew cat spits,” he said. +“Well, the cause has been tried and the verdict given, and I think +that the familiar should feed the flames before the witch. Watch him +now, and perhaps he will change into something else.” + +All this he said, smiling in his usual pleasant fashion, even when he +made a sign to certain black temple slaves who stood near. They leapt +forward, and I saw the firelight shone upon their copper armlets as +they gripped Laban. He fought furiously, shouting: + +“Where are your armies, Egyptians, and where is your dog of a Pharaoh? +Go dig them from the Sea of Reeds. Farewell, Moon of Israel. Look how +your royal lover crowns you at the last, O faithless——” + +He said no more, for at this moment the slaves hurled him headlong into +the heart of the great fire, which blackened for a little and burned +bright again. + +Then it was that Merapi struggled to her feet and cried in a ringing +voice those very words which the Prince and I had seemed to hear her +speak far away by the Sea of Reeds—“_Oh! help me, my lord Seti! +Help me, my lord Seti!_” Yes, the same words which had echoed in our +ears days before they passed her lips, or so we believed. + +Now all this while our chariots had been forcing their way foot by foot +through the wall of the watching crowd, perhaps while a man might count +a hundred, no more. As the echoes of her cry died away at length we +were through and leaping to the ground. + +“The witch calls on one who sups to-night at the board of Osiris with +Pharaoh and his host,” sneered Ki. “Well, let her go to seek him +there if the guardian gods will suffer it,” and again he made a sign +to the black slaves. + +But Merapi had seen or felt Seti advancing from the shadows and seeing +flung herself upon his breast. He kissed her on the brow before them +all, then bade me hold her up and turned to face the people. + +“Bow down. Bow down. Bow down!” cried the deep voice of +Bakenkhonsu. “Life! Blood! Strength! Pharaoh! Pharaoh! Pharaoh!” +and what he said the escort echoed. + +Then of a sudden the multitude understood. To their knees they fell and +from every side rose the ancient salutation. Seti held up his hand and +blessed them. Watching, I saw Ki slip towards the darkness, and +whispered a word to the guards, who sprang upon him and brought him +back. + +Then the Prince spoke: + +“Ye name me Pharaoh, people of Memphis, and Pharaoh I fear I am by +descent of blood to-day, though whether I will consent to bear the +burdens of government, should Egypt wish it of me, as yet I know not. +Still he who wore the double crown is, I believe, dead in the midst of +the sea; at the least I saw the waters overwhelm him and his army. +Therefore, if only for an hour, I will be Pharaoh, that as Pharaoh I +may judge of certain matters. Lady Merapi, tell me, I pray you, how +came you to this pass?” + +“My lord,” she answered, in a low voice, “after you had gone +to warn the army of Pharaoh because of that dream I dreamed, Ki, who +departed on the same day, returned again. Through one of the women of +the household, over whom he had power, or so I think, he obtained +access to me when I was alone in my chamber. There he made me this +offer: + +“‘Give me,’ he said, ‘the secret of your magic that I +may be avenged upon the wizards of the Hebrews who have brought about my +downfall, and upon the Hebrews themselves, and also upon all my other +enemies, and thus once more become the greatest man in Egypt. In turn I +will fulfil all your desires, and make you, and no other, Queen of +Egypt, and be your faithful servant, and that of your lord Seti who +shall be Pharaoh, until the end of your lives. Refuse, and I will stir +up the people against you, and before ever the Prince returns, if he +returns at all, they who believe you to be an evil sorceress shall mete +out to you the fate of a sorceress.’ + +“My lord, I answered to Ki what I have often told him before, that I +had no magic to reveal to him, I who knew nothing of the black arts of +sorcery, seeing that it was not I who destroyed the statue of Amon in +the temple at Tanis, but that same Power which since then has brought +all the plagues on Egypt. I said, too, that I cared nothing for the +gifts he offered to me, as I had no wish to be Queen of Egypt. My lord, +he laughed in my face, saying I should find that he was one ill to +mock, as others had found before me. Then he pointed at me with his +wand and muttered some spell over me, which seemed to numb my limbs and +voice, holding me helpless till he had been gone a long while, and +could not be found by your servants, whom I commanded in your name to +seize, and keep him till your return. + +“From that hour the people began to threaten me. They crowded about +the palace gates in thousands, crying day and night that they were +going to kill me, the witch. I prayed for help, but from me, a sinner, +heaven has grown so far away that my prayers seem to fall back unheard +upon my head. Even the servants in the palace turned against me, and +would not look upon my face. I grew mad with fear and loneliness, since +all fled before me. At last one night towards the dawn I went on to the +terrace, and since no god would hear me, I turned towards the north +whither I knew that you had gone, and cried to you to help me in those +same words which I cried again just now before you appeared.” (Here +the Prince looked at me and I Ana looked at him.) “Then it was that +from among the bushes of the garden appeared a man, hidden in a long, +sheepskin cloak, so that I could not see his face, who said to me: + +“‘Moon of Israel, I have been sent by his Highness, the Prince +Seti, to tell you that you are in danger of your life, as he is in +danger of his, wherefore he cannot come to you. His command is that you +come to him, that together you may flee away out of Egypt to a land +where you will both be safe until all these troubles are finished.’ + +“‘How know I that you of the veiled face are a true +messenger?’ I asked. ‘Give me a sign.’ + +“Then he held out to me that scarabæus of lapis-lazuli which your +Highness gave to me far away in the land of Goshen, the same that you +asked back from me as a love token when we plighted troth, and you gave +me your royal ring, which scarabæus I had seen in your robe when you +drove away with Ana.” + +“I lost it on our journey to the Sea of Reeds, but said nothing of it +to you, Ana, because I thought the omen evil, having dreamed in the +night that Ki appeared and stole it from me,” whispered the Prince to +me. + +“‘It is not enough,’ I answered. ‘This jewel may have +been thieved away, or snatched from the dead body of the Prince, or +taken from him by magic.’ + +“The cloaked man thought a while and said, ‘This night, not an hour +ago, Pharaoh and his chariots were overwhelmed in the Sea of Reeds. Let +that serve as a sign.’ + +“‘How can this be?’ I answered, ‘since the Sea of Reeds +is far away, and such tidings cannot travel thence in an hour. Get you +gone, false tempter.’ + +“‘Yet it is so,’ he answered. + +“‘When you prove it to me, I will believe, and come.’ + +“‘Good,’ he said, and was gone. + +“Next day a rumour began to run that this awful thing had happened. It +grew stronger and stronger, until all swore that it had happened. Now +the fury of the people rose against me, and they ravened round the +palace like lions of the desert, roaring for my blood. Yet it was as +though they could not enter here, since whenever they rushed at the +gates or walls, they fell back again, for some spirit seemed to protect +the place. The days went by; the night came again and at the dawn, this +dawn that is past, once more I stood upon the terrace, and once more +the cloaked man appeared from among the trees. + +“‘Now you have heard, Moon of Israel,’ he said, ‘and +now you must believe and come, although you think yourself safe because +at the beginning of the plagues this, the home of Seti, was enchanted +against evil, so that none within it can be harmed.’ + +“‘I have heard, and I think that I believe, though how the tidings +reached Memphis in an hour I do not understand. Yet, stranger, I say to +you that it is not enough.’ + +“Then the man drew a papyrus roll from his bosom and threw it at my +feet. I opened it and read. The writing was the writing of Ana as I +knew well, and the signature was the signature of you, my lord, and it +was sealed with your seal, and with the seal of Bakenkhonsu as a +witness. Here it is,” and from the breast of her garment, she drew +out a roll and gave it to me upon whom she rested all this while. + +I opened it, and by the light of torches the Prince, Bakenkhonsu, and I +read. It was as she had told us in what seemed to be my writing, and +signed and sealed as she had said. The words ran: + +“To Merapi, Moon of Israel, in my house at Memphis. + +“Come, Lady, Flower of Love, to me your lord, to whom the bearer of +this will guide you safely. Come at once, for I am in great danger, as +you are, and together only can we be safe.” + +“Ana, what means this?” asked the Prince in a terrible voice. +“If you have betrayed me and her——” + +“By the gods,” I began angrily, “am I a man that I should +live to hear even your Highness speak thus to me, or am I but a dog of +the desert?” + +I ceased, for at that moment Bakenkhonsu began to laugh. + +“Look at the letter!” he laughed. “Look at the letter.” + +We looked, and as we looked, behold the writing on it turned first to +the colour of blood and then faded away, till presently there was +nothing in my hand but a blank sheet of papyrus. + +“Oho-ho!” laughed Bakenkhonsu. “Truly, friend Ki, you are the +first of magicians, save those prophets of the Israelites who have +brought you—Whither have they brought you, friend Ki?” + +Then for the first time the painted smile left the face of Ki, and it +became like a block of stone in which were set two angry jewels that +were his eyes. + +“Continue, Lady,” said the Prince. + +“I obeyed the letter. I fled away with the man who said he had a +chariot waiting. We passed out by the little gate. + +“‘Where is the chariot?’ I asked. + +“‘We go by boat,’ he answered, and led the way towards the +river. As we threaded the big palm grove men appeared from between the +trees. + +“‘You have betrayed me,’ I cried. + +“‘Nay,’ he answered, ‘I am myself betrayed.’ + +“Then for the first time I knew his voice for that of Laban. + +“The men seized us; at the head of them was Ki. + +“‘This is the witch,’ he said, ‘who, her wickedness +finished, flies with her Hebrew lover, who is also the familiar of her +sorceries.’ + +“They tore the cloak and the false beard from him and there before me +stood Laban. I cursed him to his face. But all he answered was: + +“‘Merapi, what I have done I did for love of you. It was my purpose +to take you away to our people, for here I knew that they would kill +you. This magician promised you to me if I could tempt you from the +safety of the palace, in return for certain tidings that I have given +him.’ + +“These were the only words that passed between us till the end. They +dragged us to the secret prison of the great temple where we were +separated. Here all day long Ki and the priests tormented me with +questions, to which I gave no answer. Towards the evening they brought +me out and led me here with Laban at my side. When the people saw me a +great cry went up of ‘Sorceress! Hebrew witch!’ They broke through +the guard; they seized me, threw me to the ground and beat me. Laban +strove to protect me but was torn away. At length the people were +driven off, and oh! my lord, you know the rest. I have spoken truth, I +can no more.” + +So saying her knees loosened beneath her and she swooned. We bore her to +the chariot. + +“You have heard, Ki,” said the Prince. “Now, what +answer?” + +“None, O Pharaoh,” he replied coldly, “for Pharaoh you are, +as I promised that you should be. My spirit has deserted me, those +Hebrews have stolen it away. That writing should have faded from the +scroll as soon as it was read by yonder lady, and then I would have +told you another story; a story of secret love, of betrayal and +attempted flight with her lover. But some evil god kept it there until +you also had read, you who knew that you had not written what appeared +before your eyes. Pharaoh, I am conquered. Do your will with me, and +farewell. Beloved you shall always be as you have always been, but +happy never in this world.” + +“O People,” cried Seti, “I will not be judge in my own cause. +You have heard, do you judge. For this wizard, what reward?” + +Then there went up a great cry of “Death! Death by fire. The death he +had made ready for the innocent!” + +That was the end, but they told me afterwards that, when the great pyre +had burned out, in it was found the head of Ki looking like a red-hot +stone. When the sunlight fell on it, however, it crumbled and faded +away, as the writing had faded from the roll. If this be true I do not +know, who was not present at the time. + +We bore Merapi to the palace. She lived but three days, she whose body +and spirit were broken. The last time I saw her was when she sent for +me not an hour before death came. She was lying in Seti’s arms +babbling to him of their child and looking very sweet and happy. She +thanked me for my friendship, smiling the while in a way which showed +me that she knew it was more than friendship, and bade me tend my +master well until we all met again elsewhere. Then she gave me her hand +to kiss and I went away weeping. + +After she was dead a strange fancy took Seti. In the great hall of the +palace he caused a golden throne to be put up, and on this throne he +set her in regal garments, with pectoral and necklaces of gems, crowned +like a queen of Egypt, and thus he showed her to the lords of Memphis. +Then he caused her to be embalmed and buried in a secret sepulchre, the +place of which I have sworn never to reveal, but without any rites +because she was not of the faith of Egypt. + +There then she sleeps in her eternal house until the Day of +Resurrection, and with her sleeps her little son. + +It was within a moon of this funeral that the great ones of Egypt came +to Memphis to name the Prince as Pharaoh, and with them came her +Highness, the Queen Userti. I was present at the ceremony, which to me +was very strange. There was the Vizier Nehesi; there was the +high-priest Roi and with him many other priests; and there was even the +old chamberlain Pambasa, pompous yet grovelling as before, although he +had deserted the household of the Prince after his disinheritance for +that of the Pharaoh Amenmeses. His appearance with his wand of office +and long white beard, of which he was so proud because it was his own, +drew from Seti the only laugh I had heard him utter for many weeks. + +“So you are back again, Chamberlain Pambasa,” he said. + +“O most Holy, O most Royal,” answered the old knave, “has +Pambasa, the grain of dust beneath your feet, ever deserted the House of +Pharaoh, or that of him who will be Pharaoh?” + +“No,” replied Seti, “it is only when you think that he will +not be Pharaoh that you desert. Well, get you to your duties, rogue, who +perhaps at bottom are as honest as the rest.” + +Then followed the great and ancient ceremony of the Offering of the +Crown, in which spoke priests disguised as gods and other priests +disguised as mighty Pharaohs of the past; also the nobles of the Nomes +and the chief men of cities. When all had finished Seti answered: + +“I take this, my heritage,” and he touched the double crown, +“not because I desire it but because it is my duty, as I swore that I +would to one who has departed. Blow upon blow have smitten Egypt which, +I think, had my voice been listened to, would never have fallen. Egypt +lies bleeding and well-nigh dead. Let it be your work and mine to try +to nurse her back to life. For no long while am I with you, who also +have been smitten, how it matters not, yet while I am here, I who seem +to reign will be your servant and that of Egypt. It is my decree that +no feasts or ceremonials shall mark this my accession, and that the +wealth which would have been scattered upon them shall be distributed +among the widows and children of those who perished in the Sea of +Reeds. Depart!” + +They went, humble yet happy, since here was a Pharaoh who knew the needs +of Egypt, one too who loved her and who alone had shown himself wise of +heart while others were filled with madness. Then her Highness entered, +splendidly apparelled, crowned and followed by her household, and made +obeisance. + +“Greeting to Pharaoh,” she cried. + +“Greeting to the Royal Princess of Egypt,” he answered. + +“Nay, Pharaoh, the Queen of Egypt.” + +By Seti’s side there was another throne, that in which he had set dead +Merapi with a crown upon her head. He turned and looked at it a while. +Then, he said: + +“I see that this seat is empty. Let the Queen of Egypt take her place +there if so she wills.” + +She stared at him as if she thought that he was mad, though doubtless +she had heard something of that story, then swept up the steps and sat +herself down in the royal chair. + +“Your Majesty has been long absent,” said Seti. + +“Yes,” she answered, “but as my Majesty promised she would +do, she has returned to her lawful place at the side of Pharaoh—never +to leave it more.” + +“Pharaoh thanks her Majesty,” said Seti, bowing low. + +Some six years had gone by, when one night I was seated with the Pharaoh +Seti Meneptah in his palace at Memphis, for there he always chose to +dwell when matters of State allowed. + +It was on the anniversary of the Death of the Firstborn, and of this +matter it pleased him to talk to me. Up and down the chamber he walked +and, watching him by the lamplight, I noted that of a sudden he seemed +to have grown much older, and that his face had become sweeter even +than it was before. He was more thin also, and his eyes had in them a +look of one who stares at distances. + +“You remember that night, Friend, do you not,” he said; +“perhaps the most terrible night the world has ever seen, at least in +the little piece of it called Egypt.” He ceased, lifted a curtain, +and pointed to a spot on the pillared portico without. “There she +sat,” he went on; “there you stood; there lay the boy and there +crouched his nurse—by the way, I grieve to hear that she is ill. You +are caring for her, are you not, Ana? Say to her that Pharaoh will come +to visit her—when he may, when he may.” + +“I remember it all, Pharaoh.” + +“Yes, of course you would remember, because you loved her, did you +not, and the boy too, and even me, the father. And so you will love us +always when we reach a land where sex with its walls and fires are +forgotten, and love alone survives—as we shall love you.” + +“Yes,” I answered, “since love is the key of life, and those +alone are accursed who have never learned to love.” + +“Why accursed, Ana, seeing that, if life continues, they still may +learn?” He paused a while, then went on: “I am glad that he died, +Ana, although had he lived, as the Queen will have no children, he might +have become Pharaoh after me. But what is it to be Pharaoh? For six +years now I have reigned, and I think that I am beloved; reigned over a +broken land which I have striven to bind together, reigned over a sick +land which I have striven to heal, reigned over a desolated land which +I have striven to make forget. Oh! the curse of those Hebrews worked +well. And I think that it was my fault, Ana, for had I been more of a +man, instead of casting aside my burden, I should have stood up against +my father Meneptah and his policy and, if need were, have raised the +people. Then the Israelites would have gone, and no plagues would have +smitten Egypt. Well, what I did, I did because I must, perhaps, and what + has happened, has happened. And now my time comes to an end, and I go +hence to balance my account as best I may, praying that I may find +judges who understand, and are gentle.” + +“Why does Pharaoh speak thus?” I asked. + +“I do not know, Ana, yet that Hebrew wife of mine has been much in my +mind of late. She was wise in her way, as wise as loving, was she not, +and if we could see her once again, perhaps she would answer the +question. But although she seems so near to me, I never can see her, +quite. Can you, Ana?” + +“No, Pharaoh, though one night old Bakenkhonsu vowed that he perceived +her passing before us, and looking at me earnestly as she passed.” + +“Ah! Bakenkhonsu. Well, he is wise too, and loved her in his fashion. +Also the flesh fades from him, though mayhap he will live to make +offerings at both our tombs. Well, Bakenkhonsu is at Tanis, or is it at +Thebes, with her Majesty, whom he ever loves to observe, as I do. So he +can tell us nothing of what he thought he saw. This chamber is hot, +Ana, let us stand without.” + +So we passed the curtain, and stood upon the portico, looking at the +garden misty with moonlight, and talking of this and that—about the +Israelites, I think, who, as we heard, were wandering in the deserts of +Sinai. Then of a sudden we grew silent, both of us. + +A cloud floated over the face of the moon, leaving the world in +darkness. It passed, and I became aware that we were no longer alone. +There in front of us was a mat, and on the mat lay a dead child, the +royal child named Seti; there by the mat stood a woman with agony in +her eyes, looking at the dead child, the Hebrew woman named Moon of +Israel. + +Seti touched me, and pointed to her, and I pointed to the child. We +stood breathless. Then of a sudden, stooping down, Merapi lifted up the +child and held it towards its father. But, lo! now no longer was it +dead; nay, it laughed and laughed, and seeing him, seemed to throw its +arms about his neck, and to kiss him on the lips. Moreover, the agony +in the woman’s eyes turned to joy unspeakable, and she became more +beautiful than a star. Then, laughing like the child, Merapi turned to +Seti, beckoned, and was gone. + +“We have seen the dead,” he said to me presently, “and, oh! +Ana, _the dead still live!_” + +That night, ere dawn, a cry rang through the palace, waking me from my +sleep. This was the cry: + +“The good god Pharaoh is no more! The hawk Seti has flown to +heaven!” + +At the burial of Pharaoh, I laid the halves of the broken cup upon his +breast, that he might drink therefrom in the Day of Resurrection. + +Here ends the writing of the Scribe Ana, the Counsellor and Companion of +the King, by him beloved. + + + + +THE END + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MOON OF ISRAEL *** + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +concept and trademark. 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