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Moon of Israel 2856.txt
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Moon of Israel 2856.txt
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Produced by John Bickers; Dagny; Emma Dudding; David Widger
MOON OF ISRAEL
A TALE OF THE EXODUS
by H. Rider Haggard
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.
MOON OF ISRAEL
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
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 wondered 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 bend 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 be to me 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."