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Cleopatra 2769.txt
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Cleopatra 2769.txt
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Produced by John Bickers; Dagny; Emma Dudding
CLEOPATRA
by H. Rider Haggard
DEDICATION
My dear Mother,
I have for a long while hoped to be allowed to dedicate some book
of mine to you, and now I bring you this work, because whatever its
shortcomings, and whatever judgment may be passed upon it by yourself
and others, it is yet the one I should wish you to accept.
I trust that you will receive from my romance of "Cleopatra" some such
pleasure as lightened the labour of its building up; and that it
may convey to your mind a picture, however imperfect, of the old and
mysterious Egypt in whose lost glories you are so deeply interested.
Your affectionate and dutiful Son,
H. Rider Haggard.
January 21, 1889.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
The history of the ruin of Antony and Cleopatra must have struck many
students of the records of their age as one of the most inexplicable
of tragic tales. What malign influence and secret hates were at work,
continually sapping their prosperity and blinding their judgment? Why
did Cleopatra fly at Actium, and why did Antony follow her, leaving his
fleet and army to destruction? An attempt is made in this romance to
suggest a possible answer to these and some other questions.
The reader is asked to bear in mind, however, that the story is told,
not from the modern point of view, but as from the broken heart and
with the lips of an Egyptian patriot of royal blood; no mere
beast-worshipper, but a priest instructed in the inmost mysteries, who
believed firmly in the personal existence of the gods of Khem, in the
possibility of communion with them, and in the certainty of immortal
life with its rewards and punishments; to whom also the bewildering and
often gross symbolism of the Osirian Faith was nothing but a veil woven
to obscure secrets of the Sanctuary. Whatever proportion of truth there
may have been in their spiritual claims and imaginings, if indeed there
was any, such men as the Prince Harmachis have been told of in the
annals of every great religion, and, as is shown by the testimony of
monumental and sacred inscriptions, they were not unknown among the
worshippers of the Egyptian Gods, and more especially of Isis.
Unfortunately it is scarcely possible to write a book of this nature and
period without introducing a certain amount of illustrative matter, for
by no other means can the long dead past be made to live again before
the reader's eyes with all its accessories of faded pomp and forgotten
mystery. To such students as seek a story only, and are not interested
in the faith, ceremonies, or customs of the Mother of Religion and
Civilisation, ancient Egypt, it is, however, respectfully suggested
that they should exercise the art of skipping, and open this tale at its
Second Book.
That version of the death of Cleopatra has been preferred which
attributes her end to poison. According to Plutarch its actual manner is
very uncertain, though popular rumour ascribed it to the bite of an asp.
She seems, however, to have carried out her design under the advice
of that shadowy personage, her physician, Olympus, and it is more than
doubtful if he would have resorted to such a fantastic and uncertain
method of destroying life.
It may be mentioned that so late as the reign of Ptolemy Epiphanes,
pretenders of native blood, one of whom was named Harmachis, are known
to have advanced their claims to the throne of Egypt. Moreover, there
was a book of prophecy current among the priesthood which declared that
after the nations of the Greeks the God Harsefi would create the "chief
who is to come." It will therefore be seen that, although it lacks
historical confirmation, the story of the great plot formed to stamp out
the dynasty of the Macedonian Lagidae and place Harmachis on the throne
is not in itself improbable. Indeed, it is possible that many such plots
were entered into by Egyptian patriots during the long ages of their
country's bondage. But ancient history tells us little of the abortive
struggles of a fallen race.
The Chant of Isis and the Song of Cleopatra, which appear in these
pages, are done into verse from the writer's prose by Mr. Andrew Lang,
and the dirge sung by Charmion is translated by the same hand from the
Greek of the Syrian Meleager.
CLEOPATRA
INTRODUCTION
In the recesses of the desolate Libyan mountains that lie behind the
temple and city of Abydus, the supposed burying place of the holy
Osiris, a tomb was recently discovered, among the contents of which were
the papyrus rolls whereupon this history is written. The tomb itself is
spacious, but otherwise remarkable only for the depth of the shaft which
descends vertically from the rock-hewn cave, that once served as the
mortuary chapel for the friends and relatives of the departed, to the
coffin-chamber beneath. This shaft is no less than eighty-nine feet in
depth. The chamber at its foot was found to contain three coffins only,
though it is large enough for many more. Two of these, which in all
probability inclosed the bodies of the High Priest, Amenemhat, and of
his wife, father and mother of Harmachis, the hero of this history, the
shameless Arabs who discovered them there and then broke up.
The Arabs broke the bodies up. With unhallowed hands they tore the holy
Amenemhat and the frame of her who had, as it is written, been filled
with the spirit of the Hathors--tore them limb from limb, searching for
treasure amidst their bones--perhaps, as is their custom, selling the
very bones for a few piastres to the last ignorant tourist who came
their way, seeking what he might destroy. For in Egypt the unhappy, the
living find their bread in the tombs of the great men who were before
them.
But as it chanced, some little while afterwards, one who is known to
this writer, and a doctor by profession, passed up the Nile to Abydus,
and became acquainted with the men who had done this thing. They
revealed to him the secret of the place, telling him that one coffin
yet remained entombed. It seemed to be the coffin of a poor person,
they said, and therefore, being pressed for time, they had left it
unviolated. Moved by curiosity to explore the recesses of a tomb as yet
unprofaned by tourists, my friend bribed the Arabs to show it to him.
What ensued I will give in his own words, exactly as he wrote it to me:
"I slept that night near the Temple of Seti, and started before daybreak
on the following morning. With me were a cross-eyed rascal named
Ali--Ali Baba I named him--the man from whom I got the ring which I am
sending you, and a small but choice assortment of his fellow thieves.
Within an hour after sunrise we reached the valley where the tomb is. It
is a desolate place, into which the sun pours his scorching heat all
the long day through, till the huge brown rocks which are strewn about
become so hot that one can scarcely bear to touch them, and the sand
scorches the feet. It was already too hot to walk, so we rode on
donkeys, some way up the valley--where a vulture floating far in the
blue overhead was the only other visitor--till we came to an enormous
boulder polished by centuries of action of sun and sand. Here Ali
halted, saying that the tomb was under the stone. Accordingly, we
dismounted, and, leaving the donkeys in charge of a fellah boy, went up
to the rock. Beneath it was a small hole, barely large enough for a man
to creep through. Indeed it had been dug by jackals, for the doorway and
some part of the cave were entirely silted up, and it was by means of
this jackal hole that the tomb had been discovered. Ali crept in on his
hands and knees, and I followed, to find myself in a place cold after
the hot outside air, and, in contrast with the light, filled with a
dazzling darkness. We lit our candles, and, the select body of thieves
having arrived, I made an examination. We were in a cave the size of
a large room, and hollowed by hand, the further part of the cave being
almost free from drift-dust. On the walls are religious paintings of the
usual Ptolemaic character, and among them one of a majestic old man with
a long white beard, who is seated in a carved chair holding a wand in
his hand.[*] Before him passes a procession of priests bearing sacred
images. In the right hand corner of the tomb is the shaft of the
mummy-pit, a square-mouthed well cut in the black rock. We had brought a
beam of thorn-wood, and this was now laid across the pit and a rope
made fast to it. Then Ali--who, to do him justice, is a courageous
thief--took hold of the rope, and, putting some candles into the breast
of his robe, placed his bare feet against the smooth sides of the well
and began to descent with great rapidity. Very soon he had vanished into
blackness, and the agitation of the cord alone told us that anything was
going on below. At last the rope ceased shaking and a faint shout came
rumbling up the well, announcing Ali's safe arrival. Then, far below, a
tiny star of light appeared. He had lit the candle, thereby disturbing
hundreds of bats that flitted up in an endless stream and as silently as
spirits. The rope was hauled up again, and now it was my turn; but, as
I declined to trust my neck to the hand-over-hand method of descent, the
end of the cord was made fast round my middle and I was lowered bodily
into those sacred depths. Nor was it a pleasant journey, for, if the
masters of the situation above had made any mistake, I should have been
dashed to pieces. Also, the bats continually flew into my face and clung
to my hair, and I have a great dislike of bats. At last, after some
minutes of jerking and dangling, I found myself standing in a
narrow passage by the side of the worthy Ali, covered with bats and
perspiration, and with the skin rubbed off my knees and knuckles. Then
another man came down, hand over hand like a sailor, and as the rest
were told to stop above we were ready to go on. Ali went first with
his candle--of course we each had a candle--leading the way down a long
passage about five feet high. At length the passage widened out, and we
were in the tomb-chamber: I think the hottest and most silent place that
I ever entered. It was simply stifling. This chamber is a square room
cut in the rock and totally devoid of paintings or sculpture. I held
up the candles and looked round. About the place were strewn the coffin
lids and the mummied remains of the two bodies that the Arabs had
previously violated. The paintings on the former were, I noticed, of
great beauty, though, having no knowledge of hieroglyphics, I could not
decipher them. Beads and spicy wrappings lay around the remains, which,
I saw, were those of a man and a woman.[+] The head had been broken off
the body of the man. I took it up and looked at it. It had been closely
shaved--after death, I should say, from the general indications--and the
features were disfigured with gold leaf. But notwithstanding this,
and the shrinkage of the flesh, I think the face was one of the most
imposing and beautiful that I ever saw. It was that of a very old man,
and his dead countenance still wore so calm and solemn, indeed, so awful
a look, that I grew quite superstitious (though as you know, I am pretty
well accustomed to dead people), and put the head down in a hurry. There
were still some wrappings left upon the face of the second body, and I
did not remove them; but she must have been a fine large woman in her
day.
[*] This, I take it, is a portrait of Amenemhat himself.--
Editor.
[+] Doubtless Amenemhat and his wife.--Editor.
"'There the other mummy,' said Ali, pointing to a large and solid case
that seemed to have been carelessly thrown down in a corner, for it was
lying on its side.
"I went up to it and carefully examined it. It was well made, but of
perfectly plain cedar-wood--not an inscription, not a solitary God on
it.
"'Never see one like him before,' said Ali. 'Bury great hurry, he no
"mafish," no "fineesh." Throw him down here on side.'
"I looked at the plain case till at last my interest was thoroughly
aroused. I was so shocked by the sight of the scattered dust of
the departed that I had made up my mind not to touch the remaining
coffin--but now my curiosity overcame me, and we set to work.
"Ali had brought a mallet and a cold chisel with him, and, having
set the coffin straight, he began upon it with all the zeal of an
experienced tomb-breaker. And then he pointed out another thing. Most
mummy-cases are fastened by four little tongues of wood, two on either
side, which are fixed in the upper half, and, passing into mortices cut
to receive them in the thickness of the lower half, are there held
fast by pegs of hard wood. But this mummy case had eight such tongues.
Evidently it had been thought well to secure it firmly. At last, with
great difficulty, we raised the massive lid, which was nearly three
inches thick, and there, covered over with a deep layer of loose spices
(a very unusual thing), was the body.
"Ali looked at it with open eyes--and no wonder. For this mummy was not
as other mummies are. Mummies in general lie upon their backs, as stiff
and calm as though they were cut from wood; but this mummy lay upon its
side, and, the wrappings notwithstanding, its knees were slightly bent.
More than that, indeed, the gold mask, which, after the fashion of the
Ptolemaic period, had been set upon the face, had worked down, and was
literally pounded up beneath the hooded head.
"It was impossible, seeing these things, to avoid the conclusion that
the mummy before us had moved with violence since it was put in the
coffin.
"'Him very funny mummy. Him not "mafish" when him go in there,' said
Ali.
"'Nonsense!' I said. 'Who ever heard of a live mummy?'
"We lifted the body out of the coffin, nearly choking ourselves with
mummy dust in the process, and there beneath it half hidden among the
spices, we made our first find. It was a roll of papyrus, carelessly
fastened and wrapped in a piece of mummy cloth, having to all appearance
been thrown into the coffin at the moment of closing.[*]
[*] This roll contained the third unfinished book of the
history. The other two rolls were neatly fastened in the
usual fashion. All three are written by one hand in the
Demotic character.--Editor.
"Ali eyed the papyrus greedily, but I seized it and put it in my pocket,
for it was agreed that I was to have all that might be discovered.
Then we began to unwrap the body. It was covered with very broad strong
bandages, thickly wound and roughly tied, sometimes by means of simple
knots, the whole working the appearance of having been executed in
great haste and with difficulty. Just over the head was a large lump.
Presently, the bandages covering it were off, and there, on the face,
lay a second roll of papyrus. I put down my hand to lift it, but it
would not come away. It appeared to be fixed to the stout seamless
shroud which was drawn over the whole body, and tied beneath the
feet--as a farmer ties sacks. This shroud, which was also thickly waxed,
was in one piece, being made to fit the form like a garment. I took a
candle and examined the roll and then I saw why it was fast. The spices
had congealed and glued it to the sack-like shroud. It was impossible to
get it away without tearing the outer sheets of papyrus.[*]
[*] This accounts for the gaps in the last sheets of the
second roll. --Editor.
"At last, however, I wrenched it loose and put it with the other in my
pocket.
"Then we went on with our dreadful task in silence. With much care we
ripped loose the sack-like garment, and at last the body of a man lay
before us. Between his knees was a third roll of papyrus. I secured it,
then held down the light and looked at him. One glance at his face was
enough to tell a doctor how he had died.
"This body was not much dried up. Evidently it had not passed the
allotted seventy days in natron, and therefore the expression and
likeness were better preserved than is usual. Without entering into
particulars, I will only say that I hope I shall never see such another
look as that which was frozen on this dead man's face. Even the Arabs
recoiled from it in horror and began to mutter prayers.
"For the rest, the usual opening on the left side through which the
embalmers did their work was absent; the finely-cut features were those
of a person of middle age, although the hair was already grey, and
the frame was that of a very powerful man, the shoulders being of an
extraordinary width. I had not time to examine very closely, however,
for within a few seconds from its uncovering, the unembalmed body began
to crumble now that it was exposed to the action of the air. In five or
six minutes there was literally nothing left of it but a wisp of hair,
the skull, and a few of the larger bones. I noticed that one of the
tibiæ--I forget if it was the right or the left--had been fractured and
very badly set. It must have been quite an inch shorter than the other.
"Well, there was nothing more to find, and now that the excitement was
over, what between the heat, the exertion, and the smell of mummy dust
and spices, I felt more dead than alive.
"I am tired of writing, and this ship rolls. This letter, of course,
goes overland, and I am coming by 'long sea,' but I hope to be in London
within ten days after you get it. Then I will tell you of my pleasing
experiences in the course of the ascent from the tomb-chamber, and of
how that prince of rascals, Ali Baba, and his thieves tried to frighten
me into handing over the papyri, and how I worsted them. Then, too, we
will get the rolls deciphered. I expect that they only contain the usual
thing, copies of the 'Book of the Dead,' but there may be something
else in them. Needless to say, I did not narrate this little adventure
in Egypt, or I should have had the Boulac Museum people on my track.
Good-bye, 'Mafish Fineesh,' as Ali Baba always said."
In due course, my friend, the writer of the letter from which I have
quoted, arrived in London, and on the very next day we paid a visit to
a learned acquaintance well versed in Hieroglyphics and Demotic writing.
The anxiety with which we watched him skilfully damping and unfolding
one of the rolls and peering through his gold-rimmed glasses at the
mysterious characters may well be imagined.
"Hum," he said, "whatever it is, this is not a copy of the 'Book of
the Dead.' By George, what's this? Cle--Cleo--Cleopatra----Why, my dear
Sirs, as I am a living man, this is the history of somebody who lived
in the days of Cleopatra, the Cleopatra, for here's Antony's name with
hers! Well, there's six months' work before me here--six months, at
the very least!" And in that joyful prospect he fairly lost control of
himself, and skipped about the room, shaking hands with us at intervals,
and saying "I'll translate--I'll translate it if it kills me, and
we will publish it; and, by the living Osiris, it shall drive every
Egyptologist in Europe mad with envy! Oh, what a find! what a most
glorious find!"
And O you whose eyes fall upon these pages, see, they have been
translated, and they have been printed, and here they lie before you--an
undiscovered land wherein you are free to travel!
Harmachis speaks to you from his forgotten tomb. The walls of Time fall
down, and, as at the lightning's leap, a picture from the past starts
upon your view, framed in the darkness of the ages.
He shows you those two Egypts which the silent pyramids looked down upon
long centuries ago--the Egypt of the Greek, the Roman, and the Ptolemy,
and that other outworn Egypt of the Hierophant, hoary with years, heavy
with the legends of antiquity and the memory of long-lost honours.
He tells you how the smouldering loyalty of the land of Khem blazed
up before it died, and how fiercely the old Time-consecrated Faith
struggled against the conquering tide of Change that rose, like Nile at
flood, and drowned the ancient Gods of Egypt.
Here, in his pages, you shall learn the glory of Isis the Many-shaped,
the Executrix of Decrees. Here you shall make acquaintance with the
shade of Cleopatra, that "Thing of Flame," whose passion-breathing
beauty shaped the destiny of Empires. Here you shall read how the soul
of Charmion was slain of the sword her vengeance smithied.
Here Harmachis, the doomed Egyptian, being about to die, salutes you who
follow on the path he trod. In the story of his broken years he shows to
you what may in its degree be the story of your own. Crying aloud from
that dim Amenti[*] where to-day he wears out his long atoning time, he
tells, in the history of his fall, the fate of him who, however sorely
tried, forgets his God, his Honour, and his Country.
[*] The Egyptian Hades or Purgatory.--Editor.
BOOK I--THE PREPARATION OF HARMACHIS
CHAPTER I
OF THE BIRTH OF HARMACHIS; THE PROPHECY OF THE HATHORS; AND THE SLAYING
OF THE INNOCENT CHILD
By Osiris who sleeps at Abouthis, I write the truth.
I, Harmachis, Hereditary Priest of the Temple, reared by the divine
Sethi, aforetime a Pharaoh of Egypt, and now justified in Osiris and
ruling in Amenti. I, Harmachis, by right Divine and by true descent of
blood King of the Double Crown, and Pharaoh of the Upper and Lower Land.
I, Harmachis, who cast aside the opening flower of our hope, who turned
from the glorious path, who forgot the voice of God in hearkening to the
voice of woman. I, Harmachis, the fallen, in whom are gathered up all
woes as waters are gathered in a desert well, who have tasted of every
shame, who through betrayal have betrayed, who in losing the glory that
is here have lost the glory which is to be, who am utterly undone--I
write, and, by Him who sleeps at Abouthis, I write the truth.
O Egypt!--dear land of Khem, whose black soil nourished up my mortal
part--land that I have betrayed--O Osiris!--Isis!--Horus!--ye Gods of
Egypt whom I have betrayed!--O ye temples whose pylons strike the sky,
whose faith I have betrayed!--O Royal blood of the Pharaohs of eld, that
yet runs within these withered veins--whose virtue I have betrayed!--O
Invisible Essence of all Good! and O Fate, whose balance rested on my
hand--hear me; and, to the day of utter doom, bear me witness that I
write the truth.
Even while I write, beyond the fertile fields, the Nile is running red,
as though with blood. Before me the sunlight beats upon the far Arabian
hills, and falls upon the piles of Abouthis. Still the priests make
orison within the temples at Abouthis that know me no more; still
the sacrifice is offered, and the stony roofs echo back the people's
prayers. Still from this lone cell within my prison-tower, I, the Word
of Shame, watch thy fluttering banners, Abouthis, flaunting from thy
pylon walls, and hear the chants as the long procession winds from
sanctuary to sanctuary.
Abouthis, lost Abouthis! my heart goes out toward thee! For the day
comes when the desert sands shall fill thy secret places! Thy Gods are
doomed, O Abouthis! New Faiths shall make a mock of all thy Holies, and
Centurion shall call upon Centurion across thy fortress-walls. I weep--I
weep tears of blood: for mine is the sin that brought about these evils
and mine for ever is their shame.
Behold, it is written hereafter.
Here in Abouthis I was born, I, Harmachis, and my father, the justified
in Osiris, was High Priest of the Temple of Sethi. And on that same day
of my birth Cleopatra, the Queen of Egypt, was born also. I passed my
youth in yonder fields watching the baser people at their labours and
going in and out at will among the great courts of the temples. Of my
mother I knew naught, for she died when I yet hung at the breast. But
before she died in the reign of Ptolemy Aulêtes, who is named the Piper,
so did the old wife, Atoua, told me, my mother took a golden uræus, the
snake symbol of our Royalty of Egypt, from a coffer of ivory and laid
it on my brow. And those who saw her do this believed that she was
distraught of the Divinity, and in her madness foreshadowed that the day
of the Macedonian Lagidæ was ended, and that Egypt's sceptre should pass
again to the hand of Egypt's true and Royal race. But when my father,
the old High Priest Amenemhat, whose only child I was, she who was his
wife before my mother having been, for what crime I know not, cursed
with barrenness by Sekhet: I say when my father came in and saw what the
dying woman had done, he lifted up his hands towards the vault of heaven
and adored the Invisible, because of the sign that had been sent. And
as he adored, the Hathors[*] filled my dying mother with the Spirit of
Prophecy, and she rose in strength from the couch and prostrated herself
thrice before the cradle where I lay asleep, the Royal asp upon my brow,
crying aloud:
[*] The Egyptian Parcæ or Fates.--Editor.
"Hail to thee, fruit of my womb! Hail to thee, Royal child! Hail to
thee, Pharaoh that shalt be! Hail to thee, God that shalt purge the
land, Divine seed of Nekt-nebf, the descended from Isis. Keep thee pure,
and thou shalt rule and deliver Egypt and not be broken. But if thou
dost fail in thy hour of trial, then may the curse of all the Gods
of Egypt rest upon thee, and the curse of thy Royal forefathers, the
justified, who ruled the land before thee from the age of Horus. Then in
life mayst thou be wretched, and after death may Osiris refuse thee,
and the judges of Amenti give judgment against thee, and Set and Sekhet
torment thee, till such time as thy sin is purged, and the Gods of
Egypt, called by strange names, are once more worshipped in the Temples
of Egypt, and the staff of the Oppressor is broken, and the footsteps of
the Foreigner are swept clean, and the thing is accomplished as thou in
thy weakness shalt cause it to be done."
When she had spoken thus, the Spirit of Prophecy went out of her, and
she fell dead across the cradle where I slept, so that I awoke with a
cry.
But my father, Amenemhat, the High Priest, trembled, and was very
fearful, both because of the words which had been said by the Spirit of
the Hathors through the mouth of my mother, and because what had been
uttered was treason against Ptolemy. For he knew that, if the matter
should come to the ears of Ptolemy, Pharaoh would send his guards
to destroy the life of the child concerning whom such things were
prophesied. Therefore, my father shut the doors, and caused all those
who stood by to swear upon the holy symbol of his office, and by the
name of the Divine Three, and by the Soul of her who lay dead upon the
stones beside them, that nothing of what they had seen and heard should
pass their lips.
Now among the company was the old wife, Atoua, who had been the nurse of
my mother, and loved her well; and in these days, though I know not how
it had been in the past, nor how it shall be in the future, there is
no oath that can bind a woman's tongue. And so it came about that
by-and-by, when the matter had become homely in her mind, and her fear
had fallen from her, she spoke of the prophecy to her daughter, who
nursed me at the breast now that my mother was dead. She did this as
they walked together in the desert carrying food to the husband of the
daughter, who was a sculptor, and shaped effigies of the holy Gods
in the tombs that are fashioned in the rock--telling the daughter, my
nurse, how great must be her care and love toward the child that
should one day be Pharaoh, and drive the Ptolemies from Egypt. But the
daughter, my nurse, was so filled with wonder at what she heard that she
could not keep the tale locked within her breast, and in the night she
awoke her husband, and, in her turn, whispered it to him, and thereby
compassed her own destruction, and the destruction of her child, my
foster-brother. For the man told his friend, and the friend was a spy of
Ptolemy's, and thus the tale came to Pharaoh's ears.
Now, Pharaoh was much troubled thereat, for though when he was full of
wine he would make a mock of the God of the Egyptians, and swear that
the Roman Senate was the only God to whom he bowed the knee, yet in his
heart he was terribly afraid, as I have learned from one who was his
physician. For when he was alone at night he would scream and cry aloud
to the great Serapis, who indeed is no true God, and to other Gods,
fearing lest he should be murdered and his soul handed over to the
tormentors. Also, when he felt his throne tremble under him, he would
send large presents to the temples, asking a message from the oracles,
and more especially from the oracle that is at Philæ. Therefore, when
it came to his ears that the wife of the High Priest of the great and
ancient Temple of Abouthis had been filled with the Spirit of Prophecy
before she died, and foretold that her son should be Pharaoh, he was
much afraid, and summoning some trusty guards--who, being Greeks, did
not fear to do sacrilege--he despatched them by boat up the Nile, with
orders to come to Abouthis and cut off the head of the child of the High
Priest and bring it to him in a basket.
But, as it chanced, the boat in which the guards came was of deep
draught, and, the time of their coming being at the lowest ebb of the
river, it struck and remained fast upon a bank of mud that is opposite
the mouth of the road running across the plains to Abouthis, and, as the
north wind was blowing very fiercely, it was like to sink. Thereon
the guards of Pharaoh called out to the common people, who laboured at
lifting water along the banks of the river, to come with boats and take
them off; but, seeing that they were Greeks of Alexandria, the people
would not, for the Egyptians do not love the Greeks. Then the guards
cried that they were on Pharaoh's business, and still the people would
not, asking what was their business. Whereon a eunuch among them who
had made himself drunk in his fear, told them that they came to slay the
child of Amenemhat, the High Priest, of whom it was prophesied that he
should be Pharaoh and sweep the Greeks from Egypt. And then the people
feared to stand longer in doubt, but brought boats, not knowing what
might be meant by the man's words. But there was one amongst them--a
farmer and an overseer of canals--who was a kinsman of my mother's and
had been present when she prophesied; and he turned and ran swiftly for
three parts of an hour, till he came to where I lay in the house that
is without the north wall of the great Temple. Now, as it chanced, my
father was away in that part of the Place of Tombs which is to the left
of the large fortress, and Pharaoh's guards, mounted on asses, were hard
upon us. Then the messenger cried to the old wife, Atoua, whose tongue
had brought about the evil, and told how the soldiers drew near to slay
me. And they looked at each other, not knowing what to do; for, had they
hid me, the guards would not have stayed their search till I was found.
But the man, gazing through the doorway, saw a little child at play:
"Woman," he said, "whose is that child?"
"It is my grandchild," she answered, "the foster-brother of the Prince
Harmachis; the child to whose mother we owe this evil case."
"Woman," he said, "thou knowest thy duty, do it!" and he again pointed
at the child. "I command thee, by the Holy Name!"
Atoua trembled exceedingly, because the child was of her own blood; but,
nevertheless, she took the boy and washed him and set a robe of silk
upon him, and laid him on my cradle. And me she took and smeared with
mud to make my fair skin darker, and, drawing my garment from me, set me
to play in the dirt of the yard, which I did right gladly.
Then the man hid himself, and presently the soldiers rode up and asked
of the old wife if this were the dwelling of the High Priest Amenemhat?
And she told them yea, and, bidding them enter, offered them honey and
milk, for they were thirsty.
When they had drunk, the eunuch who was with them asked if that were
the son of Amenemhat who lay in the cradle; and she said "Yea--yea,"
and began to tell the guards how he would be great, for it had been
prophesied of him that he should one day rule them all.
But the Greek guards laughed, and one of them, seizing the child, smote
off his head with a sword; and the eunuch drew forth the signet of
Pharaoh as warrant for the deed and showed it to the old wife, Atoua,
bidding her tell the High Priest that his son should be King without a
head.
And as they went one of their number saw me playing in the dirt and
called out that there was more breeding in yonder brat than in the
Prince Harmachis; and for a moment they wavered, thinking to slay
me also, but in the end they passed on, bearing the head of my
foster-brother, for they loved not to murder little children.
After a while, the mother of the dead child returned from the
market-place, and when she found what had been done, she and her husband
would have killed Atoua the old wife, her mother, and given me up to the
soldiers of Pharaoh. But my father came in also and learned the truth,
and he caused the man and his wife to be seized by night and hidden away
in the dark places of the temple, so that none saw them more.
But I would to-day that it had been the will of the Gods that I had been
slain of the soldiers and not the innocent child.
Thereafter it was given out that the High Priest Amenemhat had taken me
to be as a son to him in the place of that Harmachis who was slain of
Pharaoh.
CHAPTER II
OF THE DISOBEDIENCE OF HARMACHIS; OF THE SLAYING OF THE LION; AND OF THE
SPEECH OF THE OLD WIFE, ATOUA
And after these things Ptolemy the Piper troubled us no more, nor did he
again send his soldiers to seek for him of whom it was prophesied that
he should be Pharaoh. For the head of the child, my foster-brother,
was brought to him by the eunuch as he sat in his palace of marble at
Alexandria, flushed with Cyprian wine, and played upon the flute before
his women. And at his bidding the eunuch lifted up the head by the hair
for him to look on. Then he laughed and smote it on the cheek with his
sandal, bidding one of the girls crown Pharaoh with flowers. And he
bowed the knee, and mocked the head of the innocent child. But the girl,
who was sharp of tongue--for all of this I heard in after years--said
to him that "he did well to bow the knee, for this child was indeed
Pharaoh, the greatest of Pharaohs, and his name was the Osiris and his
throne was Death."
Aulêtes was much troubled at these words, and trembled, for, being a
wicked man, he greatly feared entering into Amenti. So he caused the
girl to be slain because of the evil omen of her saying; crying that he
would send her to worship that Pharaoh whom she had named. And the other
women he sent away, and played no more upon the flute till he was once
again drunk on the morrow. But the Alexandrians made a song on the
matter, which is still sung about the streets. And this is the beginning
of it--
Ptolemy the Piper played
Over dead and dying;
Piped and played he well.
Sure that flute of his was made
Of the dank reed sighing
O'er the streams of Hell.
There beneath the shadows grey,
With the sisters three,
Shall he pipe for many a day.
May the Frog his butler be!
And his wine the water of that countrie--
Ptolemy the Piper!
After this the years passed on, nor did I, being very little, know
anything of the great things that came to pass in Egypt; nor is it my
purpose to set them out here. For I, Harmachis, having little time left
to me, will only speak of those things with which I have been concerned.
And as the time went on, my father and the teachers instructed me in the
ancient learning of our people, and in such matters appertaining to
the Gods as it is meet that children should know. So I grew strong and
comely, for my hair was black as the hair of the divine Nout, and my
eyes were blue as the blue lotus, and my skin was like the alabaster
within the sanctuaries. For now that these glories have passed from me
I may speak of them without shame. I was strong also. There was no youth
of my years in Abouthis who could stand against me to wrestle with me,
nor could any throw so far with the sling or spear. And I much yearned
to hunt the lion; but he whom I called my father forbade me, telling me
that my life was of too great worth to be so lightly hazarded. But when
I bowed before him and prayed he would make his meaning clear to me,
the old man frowned and answered that the Gods made all things clear in
their own season. For my part, however, I went away in wroth, for there
was a youth in Abouthis who with others had slain a lion which fell upon
his father's herds, and, being envious of my strength and beauty, he set
it about that I was cowardly at heart, in that when I went out to hunt
I only slew jackals and gazelles. Now, this was when I had reached my
seventeenth year and was a man grown.
It chanced, therefore, that as I went sore at heart from the presence
of the High Priest, I met this youth, who called to me and mocked me,
bidding me know the country people had told him that a great lion was
down among the rushes by the banks of the canal which runs past the
Temple, lying at a distance of thirty stadia from Abouthis. And, still
mocking me, he asked me if I would come and help him slay this lion, or
would I go and sit among the old women and bid them comb my side lock?
This bitter word so angered me that I was near to falling on him; but
in place therefore, forgetting my father's saying, I answered that if he
would come alone, I would go with him and seek this lion, and he should
learn if I were indeed a coward. And at first he would not, for, as men
know, it is our custom to hunt the lion in companies; so it was my hour
to mock. Then he went and fetched his bow and arrows and a sharp knife.
And I brought forth my heavy spear, which had a shaft of thorn-wood, and
at its end a pomegranate in silver, to hold the hand from slipping; and,
in silence, we went, side by side, to where the lion lay. When we
came to the place, it was near sundown; and there, upon the mud of the
canal-bank, we found the lion's slot, which ran into a thick clump of
reeds.
"Now, thou boaster," I said, "wilt thou lead the way into yonder reeds,
or shall I?" And I made as though I would lead the way.
"Nay, nay," he answered, "be not so mad! The brute will spring upon
thee and rend thee. See! I will shoot among the reeds. Perchance, if he
sleeps, it will arouse him." And he drew his bow at a venture.
How it chanced I know not, but the arrow struck the sleeping lion, and,
like a flash of light from the belly of a cloud, he bounded from the
shelter of the reeds, and stood before us with bristling mane and yellow
eyes, the arrow quivering in his flank. He roared aloud in fury, and the
earth shook.
"Shoot with the bow," I cried, "shoot swiftly ere he spring!"
But courage had left the breast of the boaster, his jaw dropped down and
his fingers unloosed their hold so that the bow fell from them; then,
with a loud cry he turned and fled behind me, leaving the lion in my
path. But while I stood waiting my doom, for though I was sore afraid
I would not fly, the lion crouched himself, and turning not aside, with
one great bound swept over me, touching me not. He lit, and again he
bounded full upon the boaster's back, striking him such a blow with his
great paw that his head was crushed as an egg thrown against a stone. He
fell down dead, and the lion stood and roared over him. Then I was mad
with horror, and, scarce knowing what I did, I grasped my spear and with
a shout I charged. As I charged the lion lifted himself up above me.
He smote at me with his paw; but with all my strength I drove the broad
spear into his throat, and, shrinking from the agony of the steel, his
blow fell short and did no more than rip my skin. Back he fell, the
great spear far in his throat; then rising, he roared in pain and leapt
twice the height of a man straight into the air, smiting at the spear
with his forepaws. Twice he leapt thus, horrible to see, and twice he
fell upon his back. Then his strength spent itself with his rushing
blood, and, groaning like a bull, he died; while I, being but a lad,
stood and trembled with fear now that all cause of fear had passed.
But as I stood and gazed at the body of him who had taunted me, and at
the carcass of the lion, a woman came running towards me, even the same
old wife, Atoua, who, though I knew it not as yet, had offered up her
flesh and blood that I might be saved alive. For she had been gathering
simples, in which she had great skill, by the water's edge, not knowing
that there was a lion near (and, indeed, the lions, for the most part,
are not found in the tilled land, but rather in the desert and the
Libyan mountains), and had seen from a distance that which I have set
down. Now, when she was come, she knew me for Harmachis, and, bending
herself, she made obeisance to me, and saluted me, calling me Royal, and
worthy of all honour, and beloved, and chosen of the Holy Three, ay, and
by the name of the Pharaoh! the Deliverer!
But I, thinking that terror had made her sick of mind, asked her of what
she would speak.
"Is it a great thing," I asked, "that I should slay a lion? Is it a
matter worthy of such talk as thine? There live, and have lived, men who
have slain many lions. Did not the Divine Amen-hetep the Osirian slay
with his own hand more than a hundred lions? Is it not written on the
scarabæus that hangs within my father's chamber, that he slew lions
aforetime? And have not others done likewise? Why then, speakest thou
thus, O foolish woman?"
All of which I said, because, having now slain the lion, I was minded,
after the manner of youth, to hold it as a thing of no account. But she
did not cease to make obeisance, and to call me by names that are too
high to be written.
"O Royal One," she cried, "wisely did thy mother prophecy. Surely the
Holy Spirit, the Knepth, was in her, O thou conceived by a God! See the
omen. The lion there--he growls within the Capitol at Rome--and the dead
man, he is the Ptolemy--the Macedonian spawn that, like a foreign weed,
hath overgrown the land of Nile; with the Macedonian Lagidæ thou shalt
go to smite the lion of Rome. But the Macedonian cur shall fly, and the
Roman lion shall strike him down, and thou shalt strike down the lion,
and the land of Khem shall once more be free! free! Keep thyself but
pure, according to the commandment of the Gods, O son of the Royal
House; O hope of Khemi! be but ware of Woman the Destroyer, and as I
have said, so shall it be. I am poor and wretched; yea, stricken with
sorrow. I have sinned in speaking of what should be hid, and for my sin
I have paid in the coin of that which was born of my womb; willingly
have I paid for thee. But I have still of the wisdom of our people, nor
do the Gods, in whose eyes all are equal, turn their countenance from
the poor; the Divine Mother Isis hath spoken to me--but last night she
spake--bidding me come hither to gather herbs, and read to thee the
signs that I should see. And as I have said, so it shall come to pass,
if thou canst but endure the weight of the great temptation. Come
hither, Royal One!" and she led me to the edge of the canal, where the
water was deep, and still and blue. "Now gaze upon that face as the
water throws it back. Is not that brow fitted to bear the double crown?
Do not those gentle eyes mirror the majesty of kings? Hath not the Ptah,
the Creator, fashioned that form to fit the Imperial garb, and awe the
glance of multitudes looking through thee to God?
"Nay, nay!" she went on in another voice--a shrill old wife's voice--"I
will--be not so foolish, boy--the scratch of a lion is a venomous thing,
a terrible thing; yea, as bad as the bite of an asp--it must be treated,
else it will fester, and all thy days thou shalt dream of lions; ay, and
snakes; and, also, it will break out in sores. But I know of it--I know.
I am not crazed for nothing. For mark! everything has its balance--in
madness is much wisdom, and in wisdom much madness. La! la! la!
Pharaoh himself can't say where the one begins and the other ends. Now,
don't stand gazing there, looking as silly as a cat in a crocus-coloured
robe, as they say in Alexandria; but just let me stick these green
things on the place, and in six days you'll heal up as white as a
three-year-child. Never mind the smart of it, lad. By Him who sleeps
at Philæ, or at Abouthis, or at Abydus--as our divine masters have it
now--or wherever He does sleep, which is a thing we shall all find out
before we want to--by Osiris, I say, you'll live to be as clean from
scars as a sacrifice to Isis at the new moon, if you'll but let me put
it on.
"Is it not so, good folk?"--and she turned to address some people who,
while she prophesied, had assembled unseen by me--"I've been speaking a
spell over him, just to make a way for the virtue of my medicine--la!
la! there's nothing like a spell. If you don't believe it, just you
come to me next time your wives are barren; it's better than scraping
every pillar in the Temple of Osiris, I'll warrant. I'll make 'em bear
like a twenty-year-old palm. But then, you see, you must know what to
say--that's the point--everything comes to a point at last. La! la!"
Now, when I heard all this, I, Harmachis, put my hand to my head, not
knowing if I dreamed. But presently looking up, I saw a grey-haired
man among those who were gathered together, who watched us sharply, and
afterwards I learned that this man was the spy of Ptolemy, the very man,
indeed, who had wellnigh caused me to be slain of Pharaoh when I was in
my cradle. Then I understood why Atoua spoke so foolishly.
"Thine are strange spells, old wife," the spy said. "Thou didst speak of
Pharaoh and the double crown and of the form fashioned by Ptah to bear
it; is it not so?"
"Yea, yea--part of the spell, thou fool; and what can one swear by
better nowadays than by the Divine Pharaoh the Piper, whom, and whose
music, may the Gods preserve to charm this happy land?--what better than
by the double crown he wears--grace to great Alexander of Macedonia? By
the way, you know about everything: have they got back his chlamys yet,
which Mithridates took to Cos? Pompey wore it last, didn't he?--in his
triumph, too--just fancy Pompey in the cloak of Alexander!--a puppy-dog
in a lion's skin! And talking of lions--look what this lad hath
done--slain a lion with his own spear; and right glad you village folks
should be to see it, for it was a very fierce lion--just see his teeth
and his claws--his claws!--they are enough to make a poor silly old
woman like me shriek to look at them! And the body there, the dead
body--the lion slew it. Alack! he's an Osiris[*] now, the body--and to
think of it, but an hour ago he was an everyday mortal like you or me!
Well, away with him to the embalmers. He'll soon swell in the sun and
burst, and that will save them the trouble of cutting him open. Not
that they will spend a talent of silver over him anyway. Seventy days in
natron--that's all he's likely to get. La! la! how my tongue does run,
and it's getting dark. Come, aren't you going to take away the body of
that poor lad, and the lion, too? There, my boy, you keep those herbs
on, and you'll never feel your scratches. I know a thing or two for all
I'm crazy, and you, my own grandson! Dear, dear, I'm glad his Holiness
the High Priest adopted you when Pharaoh--Osiris bless his holy
name--made an end of his son; you look so bonny. I warrant the real
Harmachis could not have killed a lion like that. Give me the common
blood, I say--it's so lusty."
[*] The soul when it has been absorbed in the Godhead.--
Editor.
"You know too much and talk too fast," grumbled the spy, now quite
deceived. "Well, he is a brave youth. Here, you men, bear this body back
to Abouthis, and some of you stop and help me skin the lion. We'll send
the skin to you, young man," he went on; "not that you deserve it: to
attack a lion like that was the act of a fool, and a fool deserves what
he gets--destruction. Never attack the strong until you are stronger."
But for my part I went home wondering.
CHAPTER III
OF THE REBUKE OF AMENEMHAT; OF THE PRAYER OF HARMACHIS; AND OF THE SIGN
GIVEN BY THE HOLY GODS
For a while as I, Harmachis, went, the juice of the green herbs which
the old wife, Atoua, had placed upon my wounds caused me much smart,
but presently the pain ceased. And, of a truth, I believe that there was
virtue in them, for within two days my flesh healed up, so that after a
time no marks remained. But I bethought me that I had disobeyed the word
of the old High Priest, Amenemhat, who was called my father. For till
this day I knew not that he was in truth my father according to the
flesh, having been taught that his own son was slain as I have written;
and that he had been pleased, with the sanction of the Divine ones, to
take me as an adopted son and rear me up, that I might in due season
fulfil an office about the Temple. Therefore I was much troubled, for I
feared the old man, who was very terrible in his anger, and ever spoke
with the cold voice of Wisdom. Nevertheless, I determined to go in
to him and confess my fault and bear such punishment as he should be
pleased to put upon me. So with the red spear in my hand, and the red
wounds on my breast, I passed through the outer court of the great
temple and came to the door of the place where the High Priest dwelt. It
is a great chamber, sculptured round about with the images of the solemn
Gods, and the sunlight comes to it in the daytime by an opening cut
through the stones of the massy roof. But at night it was lit by a
swinging lamp of bronze. I passed in without noise, for the door was
not altogether shut, and, pushing my way through the heavy curtains that
were beyond, I stood with a beating heart within the chamber.
The lamp was lit, for the darkness had fallen, and by its light I saw
the old man seated in a chair of ivory and ebony at a table of stone on
which were spread mystic writings of the words of Life and Death. But
he read no more, for he slept, and his long white beard rested upon the
table like the beard of a dead man. The soft light from the lamp fell
on him, on the papyri and the gold ring upon his hand, where were graven
the symbols of the Invisible One, but all around was shadow. It fell on
the shaven head, on the white robe, on the cedar staff of priesthood
at his side, and on the ivory of the lion-footed chair; it showed
the mighty brow of power, the features cut in kingly mould, the white
eyebrows, and the dark hollows of the deep-set eyes. I looked and
trembled, for there was about him that which was more than the dignity
of man. He had lived so long with the Gods, and so long kept company
with them and with thoughts divine, he was so deeply versed in all those
mysteries which we do but faintly discern, here in this upper air, that
even now, before his time, he partook of the nature of the Osiris, and
was a thing to shake humanity with fear.
I stood and gazed, and as I stood he opened his dark eyes, but looked
not on me, nor turned his head; and yet he saw me and spoke.
"Why hast thou been disobedient to me, my son?" he said. "How came it
that thou wentest forth against the lion when I bade thee not?"
"How knowest thou, my father, that I went forth?" I asked in fear.
"How know I? Are there, then, no other ways of knowledge than by the
senses? Ah, ignorant child! was not my Spirit with thee when the lion
sprang upon thy companion? Did I not pray Those set about thee to
protect thee, to make sure thy thrust when thou didst drive the spear
into the lion's throat! How came it that thou wentest forth, my son?"
"The boaster taunted me," I answered, "and I went."
"Yes, I know it; and, because of the hot blood of youth, I forgive thee,
Harmachis. But now listen to me, and let my words sink into thy
heart like the waters of Sihor into the thirsty sand at the rising of
Sirius.[*] Listen to me. The boaster was sent to thee as a temptation,
he was sent as a trial of thy strength, and see! it has not been equal
to the burden. Therefore thy hour is put back. Hadst thou been strong
in this matter, the path had been made plain to thee even now. But thou
hast failed, and therefore thy hour is put back."
[*] The dog-star, whose appearance marked the commencement
of the overflow of the Nile.--Editor.
"I understand thee not, my father," I answered.
"What was it, then, my son, that the old wife, Atoua, said to thee down
by the bank of the canal?"
Then I told him all that the old wife had said.
"And thou believest, Harmachis, my son?"
"Nay," I answered; "how should I believe such tales? Surely she is mad.
All the people know her for mad."
Now for the first time he looked towards me, who was standing in the
shadow.
"My son! my son!" he cried; "thou art wrong. She is not mad. The woman
spoke the truth; she spoke not of herself, but of the voice within her
that cannot lie. For this Atoua is a prophetess and holy. Now learn thou
the destiny that the Gods of Egypt have given to thee to fulfil, and woe
be unto thee if by any weakness thou dost fail therein! Listen: thou art
no stranger adopted into my house and the worship of the Temple; thou
art my very son, saved to me by this same woman. But, Harmachis, thou
art more than this, for in thee and me alone yet flows the Imperial
blood of Egypt. Thou and I alone of men alive are descended, without
break or flaw, from that Pharaoh Nekt-nebf whom Ochus the Persian drove
from Egypt. The Persian came and the Persian went, and after the Persian
came the Macedonian, and now for nigh upon three hundred years the
Lagidæ have usurped the double crown, defiling the land of Khem and
corrupting the worship of its Gods. And mark thou this: but now, two
weeks since, Ptolemy Neus Dionysus, Ptolemy Aulêtes the Piper, who would
have slain thee, is dead; and but now hath the Eunuch Pothinus, that
very eunuch who came hither, years ago, to cut thee off, set at naught
the will of his master, the dead Aulêtes, and placed the boy Ptolemy
upon the throne. And therefore his sister Cleopatra, that fierce and
beautiful girl, has fled into Syria; and there, if I err not, she will
gather her armies and make war upon her brother Ptolemy: for by her
father's will she was left joint-sovereign with him. And, meanwhile,
mark thou this, my son: the Roman eagle hangs on high, waiting with