"Nay, punish me!" cried Rameri. "If I commit a folly I am ready to bear
the consequences."
Ameni looked pleased at the vehement boy, and would willingly have
shaken him by the hand and stroked his curly head, but the penance he
proposed for Rameri was to serve a great end, and Ameni would not
allow any overflow of emotion to hinder him in the execution of a well
considered design. So he answered the prince with grave determination:
"I must and will punish you--and I do so by requesting you to leave the
House of Seti this very day."
The prince turned pale. But Ameni went on more kindly:
"I do not expel you with ignominy from among us--I only bid you a
friendly farewell. In a few weeks you would in any case have left the
college, and by the king's command have transferred your blooming life,
health, and strength to the exercising ground of the chariot-brigade. No
punishment for you but this lies in my power. Now give me your hand; you
will make a fine man, and perhaps a great warrior."
The prince stood in astonishment before Ameni, and did not take his
offered hand. Then the priest went up to him, and said:
"You said you were ready to take the consequences of your folly, and
a prince's word must be kept. Before sunset we will conduct you to the
gate of the temple."
Ameni turned his back on the boys, and left the school-court.
Rameri looked after him. Utter whiteness had overspread his blooming
face, and the blood had left even his lips. None of his companions
approached him, for each felt that what was passing in his soul at this
moment would brook no careless intrusion. No one spoke a word; they all
looked at him.
He soon observed this, and tried to collect himself, and then he said in
a low tone while he held out his hands to Anana and another friend:
"Am I then so bad that I must be driven out from among you all like
this--that such a blow must be inflicted on my father?"
"You refused Ameni your hand!" answered Anana. "Go to him, offer him
your hand, beg him to be less severe, and perhaps he will let you
remain."
Rameri answered only "No." But that "No" was so decided that all who
knew him understood that it was final.
Before the sun set he had left the school. Ameni gave him his blessing;
he told him that if he himself ever had to command he would understand
his severity, and allowed the other scholars to accompany him as far as
the Nile. Pentaur parted from him tenderly at the gate.
When Rameri was alone in the cabin of his gilt bark with his tutor, he
felt his eyes swimming in tears.
"Your highness is surely not weeping?" asked the official.
"Why?" asked the prince sharply.
"I thought I saw tears on your highness' cheeks."
"Tears of joy that I am out of the trap," cried Rameri; he sprang on
shore, and in a few minutes he was with his sister in the palace.
CHAPTER XXIV.
This eventful day had brought much that was unexpected to our friends in
Thebes, as well as to those who lived in the Necropolis.
The Lady Katuti had risen early after a sleepless night. Nefert had come
in late, had excused her delay by shortly explaining to her mother that
she had been detained by Bent-Anat, and had then affectionately offered
her brow for a kiss of "good-night."
When the widow was about to withdraw to her sleeping-room, and Nemu had
lighted her lamp, she remembered the secret which was to deliver Paaker
into Ani's hands. She ordered the dwarf to impart to her what he
knew, and the little man told her at last, after sincere efforts at
resistance--for he feared for his mother's safety--that Paaker had
administered half of a love-philter to Nefert, and that the remainder
was still in his hands.
A few hours since this information would have filled Katuti with
indignation and disgust; now, though she blamed the Mohar, she asked
eagerly whether such a drink could be proved to have any actual effect.
"Not a doubt of it," said the dwarf, "if the whole were taken, but
Nefert only had half of it."
At a late hour Katuti was still pacing her bedroom, thinking of Paaker's
insane devotion, of Mena's faithlessness, and of Nefert's altered
demeanor; and when she went to bed, a thousand conjectures, fears, and
anxieties tormented her, while she was distressed at the change which
had come over Nefert's love to her mother, a sentiment which of all
others should be the most sacred, and the most secure against all shock.
Soon after sunrise she went into the little temple attached to the
house, and made an offering to the statue, which, under the form of
Osiris, represented her lost husband; then she went to the temple of
Anion, where she also prayed a while, and nevertheless, on her return
home, found that her daughter had not yet made her appearance in the
hall where they usually breakfasted together.
Katuti preferred to be undisturbed during the early morning hours, and
therefore did not interfere with her daughter's disposition to sleep far
into the day in her carefully-darkened room.
When the widow went to the temple Nefert was accustomed to take a cup of
milk in bed, then she would let herself be dressed, and when her mother
returned, she would find her in the veranda or hall, which is so well
known to the reader.
To-day however Katuti had to breakfast alone; but when she had eaten a
few mouthfuls she prepared Nefert's breakfast--a white cake and a little
wine in a small silver beaker, carefully guarded from dust and insects
by a napkin thrown over it--and went into her daughter's room.
She was startled at finding it empty, but she was informed that Nefert
had gone earlier than was her wont to the temple, in her litter.
With a heavy sigh she returned to the veranda, and there received
her nephew Paaker, who had come to enquire after the health of his
relatives, followed by a slave, who carried two magnificent bunches of
flowers, and by the great dog which had formerly belonged to his father.
One bouquet he said had been cut for Nefert, and the other for her
mother.
[Pictures on the monuments show that in ancient Egypt, as at the
present time, bouquets of flowers were bestowed as tokens of
friendly feeling.]
Katuti had taken quite a new interest in Paaker since she had heard of
his procuring the philter.
No other young man of the rank to which they belonged, would have
allowed himself to be so mastered by his passion for a woman as this
Paaker was, who went straight to his aim with stubborn determination,
and shunned no means that might lead to it. The pioneer, who had
grown up under her eyes, whose weaknesses she knew, and whom she was
accustomed to look down upon, suddenly appeared to her as a different
man--almost a stranger--as the deliverer of his friends, and the
merciless antagonist of his enemies.
These reflections had passed rapidly through her mind. Now her eyes
rested on the sturdy, strongly-knit figure of her nephew, and it struck
her that he bore no resemblance to his tall, handsome father. Often had
she admired her brother-in-law's slender hand, that nevertheless could
so effectually wield a sword, but that of his son was broad and ignoble
in form.
While Paaker was telling her that he must shortly leave for Syria,
she involuntarily observed the action of this hand, which often went
cautiously to his girdle as if he had something concealed there; this
was the oval phial with the rest of the philter. Katuti observed it, and
her cheeks flushed when it occurred to her to guess what he had there.
The pioneer could not but observe Katuti's agitation, and he said in a
tone of sympathy:
"I perceive that you are in pain, or in trouble. The master of Mena's
stud at Hermonthis has no doubt been with you--No? He came to me
yesterday, and asked me to allow him to join my troops. He is very angry
with you, because he has been obliged to sell some of Mena's gold-bays.
I have bought the finest of them. They are splendid creatures! Now he
wants to go to his master 'to open his eyes,' as he says. Lie down a
little while, aunt, you are very pale."
Katuti did not follow this prescription; on the contrary she smiled, and
said in a voice half of anger and half of pity:
"The old fool firmly believes that the weal or woe of the family depends
on the gold-bays. He would like to go with you? To open Mena's eyes? No
one has yet tried to bind them!"
Katuti spoke the last words in a low tone, and her glance fell. Paaker
also looked down, and was silent; but he soon recovered his presence of
mind, and said:
"If Nefert is to be long absent, I will go."
"No--no, stay," cried the widow. "She wished to see you, and must soon
come in. There are her cake and her wine waiting for her."
With these words she took the napkin off the breakfast-table, held up
the beaker in her hand, and then said, with the cloth still in her hand:
"I will leave you a moment, and see if Nefert is not yet come home."
Hardly had she left the veranda when Paaker, having convinced himself
that no one could see him, snatched the flask from his girdle, and, with
a short invocation to his father in Osiris, poured its whole contents
into the beaker, which thus was filled to the very brim. A few minutes
later Nefert and her mother entered the hall.
Paaker took up the nosegay, which his slave had laid down on a seat, and
timidly approached the young woman, who walked in with such an aspect
of decision and self-confidence, that her mother looked at her in
astonishment, while Paaker felt as if she had never before appeared
so beautiful and brilliant. Was it possible that she should love her
husband, when his breach of faith troubled her so little? Did her heart
still belong to another? Or had the love-philter set him in the place of
Mena? Yes! yes! for how warmly she greeted him. She put out her hand to
him while he was still quite far off, let it rest in his, thanked him
with feeling, and praised his fidelity and generosity.
Then she went up to the table, begged Paaker to sit down with her, broke
her cake, and enquired for her aunt Setchern, Paaker's mother.
Katuti and Paaker watched all her movements with beating hearts.
Now she took up the beaker, and lifted it to her lips, but set it down
again to answer Paaker's remark that she was breakfasting late.
"I have hitherto been a real lazy-bones," she said with a blush. "But
this morning I got up early, to go and pray in the temple in the fresh
dawn. You know what has happened to the sacred ram of Amion. It is a
frightful occurrence. The priests were all in the greatest agitation,
but the venerable Bek el Chunsu received me himself, and interpreted my
dream, and now my spirit is light and contented."
"And you did all this without me?" said Katuti in gentle reproof.
"I would not disturb you," replied Nefert. "Besides," she added
coloring, "you never take me to the city and the temple in the morning."
Again she took up the wine-cup and looked into it, but without drinking
any, went on:
"Would you like to hear what I dreamed, Paaker? It was a strange
vision."
The pioneer could hardly breathe for expectation, still he begged her to
tell her dream.
"Only think," said Nefert, pushing the beaker on the smooth table,
which was wet with a few drops which she had spilt, "I dreamed of the
Neha-tree, down there in the great tub, which your father brought me
from Punt, when I was a little child, and which since then has grown
quite a tall tree. There is no tree in the garden I love so much, for it
always reminds me of your father, who was so kind to me, and whom I can
never forget!"
Paaker bowed assent.
Nefert looked at him, and interrupted her story when she observed his
crimson cheeks.
"It is very hot! Would you like some wine to drink---or some water?"
With these words she raised the wine-cup, and drank about half of the
contents; then she shuddered, and while her pretty face took a comical
expression, she turned to her mother, who was seated behind her and held
the beaker towards her.
"The wine is quite sour to-day!" she said. "Taste it, mother."
Katuti took the little silver-cup in her hand, and gravely put it to her
lips, but without wetting them. A smile passed over her face, and her
eyes met those of the pioneer, who stared at her in horror. The picture
flashed before her mind of herself languishing for the pioneer, and of
his terror at her affection for him! Her selfish and intriguing spirit
was free from coarseness, and yet she could have laughed with all her
heart even while engaged in the most shameful deed of her whole life.
She gave the wine back to her daughter, saying good-humoredly:
"I have tasted sweeter, but acid is refreshing in this heat."
"That is true," said the wife of Mena; she emptied the cup to the
bottom, and then went on, as if refreshed, "But I will tell you the
rest of my dream. I saw the Neha-tree, which your father gave me, quite
plainly; nay I could have declared that I smelt its perfume, but the
interpreter assured me that we never smell in our dreams. I went up to
the beautiful tree in admiration. Then suddenly a hundred axes appeared
in the air, wielded by unseen hands, and struck the poor tree with such
violence that the branches one by one fell to the ground, and at
last the trunk itself was felled. If you think it grieved me you are
mistaken. On the contrary, I was delighted with the flashing hatchets
and the flying splinters. When at last nothing was left but the roots
in the tub of earth, I perceived that the tree was rising to new life.
Suddenly my arms became strong, my feet active, and I fetched quantities
of water from the tank, poured it over the roots, and when, at last, I
could exert myself no longer, a tender green shoot showed itself on the
wounded root, a bud appeared, a green leaf unfolded itself, a juicy stem
sprouted quickly, it became a firm trunk, sent out branches and twigs,
and these became covered with leaves and flowers, white, red and blue;
then various birds came and settled on the top of the tree, and sang.
Ah! my heart sang louder than the birds at that moment, and I said to
myself that without me the tree would have been dead, and that it owed
its life to me."
"A beautiful dream," said Katuti; "that reminds me of your girlhood,
when you would be awake half the night inventing all sorts of tales.
What interpretation did the priest give you?"
"He promised me many things," said Nefert, "and he gave me the assurance
that the happiness to which I am predestined shall revive in fresh
beauty after many interruptions."
"And Paaker's father gave you the Neha-tree?" asked Katuti, leaving the
veranda as she spoke and walking out into the garden.
"My father brought it to Thebes from the far cast," said Paaker, in
confirmation of the widow's parting words.
"And that is exactly what makes me so happy," said Nefert. "For your
father was as kind, and as dear to me as if he had been my own. Do you
remember when we were sailing round the pond, and the boat upset, and
you pulled me senseless out of the water? Never shall I forget the
expression with which the great man looked at me when I woke up in its
arms; such wise true eyes no one ever had but he."
"He was good, and he loved you very much," said Paaker, recalling, for
his part, the moment when he had dared to press a kiss on the lips of
the sweet unconscious child.
"And I am so glad," Nefert went on, "that the day has come at last when
we can talk of him together again, and when the old grudge that lay
so heavy in my heart is all forgotten. How good you are to us, I have
already learned; my heart overflows with gratitude to you, when I
remember my childhood, and I can never forget that I was indebted to you
for all that was bright and happy in it. Only look at the big dog--poor
Descher!--how he rubs against me, and shows that he has not forgotten
me! Whatever comes from your house fills my mind with pleasant
memories."
"We all love you dearly," said Paaker looking at her tenderly.
"And how sweet it was in your garden!" cried Nefert. "The nosegay here
that you have brought me shall be placed in water, and preserved a long
time, as greeting from the place in which once I could play carelessly,
and dream so happily."
With these words she pressed the flowers to her lips; Paaker sprang
forward, seized her hand, and covered it with burning kisses.
Nefert started and drew away her hand, but he put out his arm to clasp
her to him. He had touched her with his trembling hand, when loud voices
were heard in the garden, and Nemu hurried in to announce he arrival of
the princess Bent-Anat.
At the same moment Katuti appeared, and in a few minutes the princess
herself.
Paaker retreated, and quitted the room before Nefert had time to express
her indignation. He staggered to his chariot like a drunken man. He
supposed himself beloved by Mena's wife, his heart was full of triumph,
he proposed rewarding Hekt with gold, and went to the palace without
delay to crave of Ani a mission to Syria. There it should be brought to
the test--he or Mena.
CHAPTER XXV.
While Nefert, frozen with horror, could not find a word of greeting for
her royal friend, Bent-Anat with native dignity laid before the widow
her choice of Nefert to fill the place of her lost companion, and
desired that Mena's wife should go to the palace that very day.
She had never before spoken thus to Katuti, and Katuti could not
overlook the fact that Bent-Anat had intentionally given up her old
confidential tone.
"Nefert has complained of me to her," thought she to herself, "and she
considers me no longer worthy of her former friendly kindness."
She was vexed and hurt, and though she understood the danger which
threatened her, now her daughter's eyes were opened, still the thought
of losing her child inflicted a painful wound. It was this which filled
her eyes with tears, and sincere sorrow trembled in her voice as she
replied:
"Thou hast required the better half of my life at my hand; but thou hast
but to command, and I to obey." Bent-Anat waved her hand proudly, as
if to confirm the widow's statement; but Nefert went up to her mother,
threw her arms round her neck, and wept upon her shoulder.
Tears glistened even in the princess's eyes when Katuti at last led her
daughter towards her, and pressed yet one more kiss on her forehead.
Bent-Anat took Nefert's hand, and did not release it, while she
requested the widow to give her daughter's dresses and ornaments into
the charge of the slaves and waiting-women whom she would send for them.
"And do not forget the case with the dried flowers, and my amulets, and
the images of the Gods," said Nefert. "And I should like to have the
Neha tree which my uncle gave me."
Her white cat was playing at her feet with Paaker's flowers, which
she had dropped on the floor, and when she saw her she took her up and
kissed her.
"Bring the little creature with you," said Bent-Anat. "It was your
favorite plaything."
"No," replied Nefert coloring.
The princess understood her, pressed her hand, and said while she
pointed to Nemu:
"The dwarf is your own too: shall he come with you?"
"I will give him to my mother," said Nefert. She let the little man kiss
her robe and her feet, once more embraced Katuti, and quitted the garden
with her royal friend.
As soon as Katuti was alone, she hastened into the little chapel in
which the figures of her ancestors stood, apart from those of Mena. She
threw herself down before the statue of her husband, half weeping, half
thankful.
This parting had indeed fallen heavily on her soul, but at the same
time it released her from a mountain of anxiety that had oppressed her
breast. Since yesterday she had felt like one who walks along the edge
of a precipice, and whose enemy is close at his heels; and the sense of
freedom from the ever threatening danger, soon got the upperhand of her
maternal grief. The abyss in front of her had suddenly closed; the road
to the goal of her efforts lay before her smooth and firm beneath her
feet.
The widow, usually so dignified, hastily and eagerly walked down the
garden path, and for the first time since that luckless letter from the
camp had reached her, she could look calmly and clearly at the position
of affairs, and reflect on the measures which Ani must take in the
immediate future. She told herself that all was well, and that the time
for prompt and rapid action was now come.
When the messengers came from the princess she superintended the
packing of the various objects which Nefert wished to have, with calm
deliberation, and then sent her dwarf to Ani, to beg that he would visit
her. But before Nemu had left Mena's grounds he saw the out-runners of
the Regent, his chariot, and the troop of guards following him.
Very soon Katuti and her noble friend were walking up and down in the
garden, while she related to him how Bent-Anat had taken Nefert from
her, and repeated to him all that she had planned and considered during
the last hour.
"You have the genius of a man," said Ani; "and this time you do not
urge me in vain. Ameni is ready to act, Paaker is to-day collecting his
troops, to-morrow he will assist at the feast of the Valley, and the
next day he goes to Syria."
"He has been with you?" Katuti asked.
"He came to the palace on leaving your house," replied Ani, "with
glowing cheeks, and resolved to the utmost; though he does not dream
that I hold him in my hand."
Thus speaking they entered the veranda, in which Nemu had remained, and
he now hid himself as usual behind the ornamental shrubs to overhear
them. They sat down near each other, by Nefert's breakfast table, and
Ani asked Katuti whether the dwarf had told her his mother's secret.
Katuti feigned ignorance, listened to the story of the love-philter, and
played the part of the alarmed mother very cleverly. The Regent was
of opinion, while he tried to soothe her, that there was no real
love-potion in the case; but the widow exclaimed:
"Now I understand, now for the first time I comprehend my daughter.
Paaker must have poured the drink into her wine, for she had no sooner
drunk it this morning than she was quite altered her words to Paaker had
quite a tender ring in them; and if he placed himself so cheerfully at
your disposal it is because he believes himself certainly to be beloved
by my daughter. The old witch's potion was effectual."
"There certainly are such drinks--" said Ani thoughtfully. "But will
they only win hearts to young men! If that is the case, the old woman's
trade is a bad one, for youth is in itself a charm to attract love. If
I were only as young as Paaker! You laugh at the sighs of a man--say
at once of an old man! Well, yes, I am old, for the prime of life lies
behind me. And yet Katuti, my friend, wisest of women--explain to me one
thing. When I was young I was loved by many and admired many women, but
not one of them--not even my wife, who died young, was more to me than
a toy, a plaything; and now when I stretch out my hand for a girl, whose
father I might very well be--not for her own sake, but simply to serve
my purpose--and she refuses me, I feel as much disturbed, as much a fool
as-as that dealer in love-philters, Paaker."
"Have you spoken to Bent-Anat?" asked Katuti.
"And heard again from her own lips the refusal she had sent me through
you. You see my spirit has suffered!"
"And on what pretext did she reject your suit?" asked the widow.
"Pretext!" cried Ani. "Bent-Anat and pretext! It must be owned that she
has kingly pride, and not Ma--[The Goddess of Truth]--herself is more
truthful than she. That I should have to confess it! When I think of
her, our plots seem to me unutterably pitiful. My veins contain, indeed,
many drops of the blood of Thotmes, and though the experience of life
has taught me to stoop low, still the stooping hurts me. I have never
known the happy feeling of satisfaction with my lot and my work; for
I have always had a greater position than I could fill, and constantly
done less than I ought to have done. In order not to look always
resentful, I always wear a smile. I have nothing left of the face I was
born with but the mere skin, and always wear a mask. I serve him whose
master I believe I ought to be by birth; I hate Rameses, who, sincerely
or no, calls me his brother; and while I stand as if I were the bulwark
of his authority I am diligently undermining it. My whole existence is a
lie."
"But it will be truth," cried Katuti, "as soon as the Gods allow you to
be--as you are--the real king of this country."
"Strange!" said Ani smiling, Ameni, "this very day, used almost exactly
the same words. The wisdom of priests, and that of women, have much in
common, and they fight with the same weapons. You use words instead of
swords, traps instead of lances, and you cast not our bodies, but our
souls, into irons."
"Do you blame or praise us for it?" said the widow. "We are in any case
not impotent allies, and therefore, it seems to me, desirable ones."
"Indeed you are," said Ani smiling. "Not a tear is shed in the land,
whether it is shed for joy or for sorrow, for which in the first
instance a priest or a woman is not responsible. Seriously, Katuti--in
nine great events out of ten you women have a hand in the game. You gave
the first impulse to all that is plotting here, and I will confess to
you that, regardless of all consequences, I should in a few hours have
given up my pretensions to the throne, if that woman Bent-Anat had said
'yes' instead of 'no.'"
"You make me believe," said Katuti, "that the weaker sex are gifted
with stronger wills than the nobler. In marrying us you style us, 'the
mistress of the house,' and if the elders of the citizens grow infirm,
in this country it is not the sons but the daughters that must be
their mainstay. But we women have our weaknesses, and chief of these is
curiosity.--May I ask on what ground Bent-Anat dismissed you?"
"You know so much that you may know all," replied Ani. "She admitted
me to speak to her alone. It was yet early, and she had come from the
temple, where the weak old prophet had absolved her from uncleanness;
she met me, bright, beautiful and proud, strong and radiant as a
Goddess, and a princess. My heart throbbed as if I were a boy, and while
she was showing me her flowers I said to myself: 'You are come to obtain
through her another claim to the throne.' And yet I felt that, if she
consented to be mine, I would remain the true brother, the faithful
Regent of Rameses, and enjoy happiness and peace by her side before it
was too late. If she refused me then I resolved that fate must take
its way, and, instead of peace and love, it must be war for the crown
snatched from my fathers. I tried to woo her, but she cut my words
short, said I was a noble man, and a worthy suitor but--"
"There came the but."
"Yes--in the form of a very frank 'no.' I asked her reasons. She begged
me to be content with the 'no;' then I pressed her harder, till she
interrupted me, and owned with proud decision that she preferred some
one else. I wished to learn the name of the happy man--that she refused.
Then my blood began to boil, and my desire to win her increased; but I
had to leave her, rejected, and with a fresh, burning, poisoned wound in
my heart."
"You are jealous!" said Katuti, "and do you know of whom?"
"No," replied Ani. "But I hope to find out through you. What I feel it
is impossible for me to express. But one thing I know, and that is
this, that I entered the palace a vacillating man--that I left it firmly
resolved. I now rush straight onwards, never again to turn back. From
this time forward you will no longer have to drive me onward, but rather
to hold me back; and, as if the Gods had meant to show that they would
stand by me, I found the high-priest Ameni, and the chief pioneer Paaker
waiting for me in my house. Ameni will act for me in Egypt, Paaker in
Syria. My victorious troops from Ethiopia will enter Thebes to-morrow
morning, on their return home in triumph, as if the king were at their
head, and will then take part in the Feast of the Valley. Later we will
send them into the north, and post them in the fortresses which protect
Egypt against enemies coming from the east Tanis, Daphne, Pelusium,
Migdol. Rameses, as you know, requires that we should drill the serfs of
the temples, and send them to him as auxiliaries. I will send him half
of the body-guard, the other half shall serve my own purposes. The
garrison of Memphis, which is devoted to Rameses, shall be sent to
Nubia, and shall be relieved by troops that are faithful to me. The
people of Thebes are led by the priests, and tomorrow Ameni will point
out to them who is their legitimate king, who will put an end to the war
and release them from taxes. The children of Rameses will be excluded
from the solemnities, for Ameni, in spite of the chief-priest of Anion,
still pronounces Bent-Anat unclean. Young Rameri has been doing wrong
and Ameni, who has some other great scheme in his mind, has forbidden
him the temple of Seti; that will work on the crowd! You know how things
are going on in Syria: Rameses has suffered much at the hands of the
Cheta and their allies; whole legions are weary of eternally lying
in the field, and if things came to extremities would join us; but,
perhaps, especially if Paaker acquits himself well, we may be victorious
without fighting. Above all things now we must act rapidly."
"I no longer recognize the timid, cautious lover of delay!" exclaimed
Katuti.
"Because now prudent hesitation would be want of prudence," said Ani.
"And if the king should get timely information as to what is happening
here?" said Katuti.
"I said so!" exclaimed Ani; "we are exchanging parts."
"You are mistaken," said Katuti. "I also am for pressing forwards; but
I would remind you of a necessary precaution. No letters but yours must
reach the camp for the next few weeks."
"Once more you and the priests are of one mind," said Ani laughing; "for
Ameni gave me the same counsel. Whatever letters are sent across the
frontier between Pelusium and the Red Sea will be detained. Only my
letters--in which I complain of the piratical sons of the desert who
fall upon the messengers--will reach the king."
"That is wise," said the widow; "let the seaports of the Red Sea
be watched too, and the public writers. When you are king, you can
distinguish those who are affected for or against you."
Ani shook his head and replied:
"That would put me in a difficult position; for it I were to punish
those who are now faithful to their king, and exalt the others, I should
have to govern with unfaithful servants, and turn away the faithful
ones. You need not color, my kind friend, for we are kin, and my
concerns are yours."
Katuti took the hand he offered her and said:
"It is so. And I ask no further reward than to see my father's house
once more in the enjoyment of its rights."
"Perhaps we shall achieve it," said Ani; "but in a short time
if--if--Reflect, Katuti; try to find out, ask your daughter to help you
to the utmost. Who is it that she--you know whom I mean--Who is it that
Bent-Anat loves?"
The widow started, for Ani had spoken the last words with a vehemence
very foreign to his usual courtliness, but soon she smiled and repeated
to the Regent the names of the few young nobles who had not followed the
king, and remained in Thebes. "Can it be Chamus?" at last she said, "he
is at the camp, it is true, but nevertheless--"
At this instant Nemu, who had not lost a word of the conversation, came
in as if straight from the garden and said:
"Pardon me, my lady; but I have heard a strange thing."
"Speak," said Katuti.
"The high and mighty princess Bent-Anat, the daughter of Rameses, is
said to have an open love-affair with a young priest of the House of
Seti."
"You barefaced scoundrel!" exclaimed Ani, and his eyes sparkled with
rage. "Prove what you say, or you lose your tongue."
"I am willing to lose it as a slanderer and traitor according to the
law," said the little man abjectly, and yet with a malicious laugh; "but
this time I shall keep it, for I can vouch for what I say. You both know
that Bent-Anat was pronounced unclean because she stayed for an hour and
more in the house of a paraschites. She had an assignation there with
the priest. At a second, in the temple of Hatasu, they were surprised by
Septah, the chief of the haruspices of the House of Seti."
"Who is the priest?" asked Ani with apparent calmness.
"A low-born man," replied Nemu, "to whom a free education was given
at the House of Seti, and who is well known as a verse-maker and
interpreter of dreams. His name is Pentaur, and it certainly must be
admitted that he is handsome and dignified. He is line for line the
image of the pioneer Paaker's late father. Didst thou ever see him, my
lord?"
The Regent looked gloomily at the floor and nodded that he had. But
Katuti cried out; "Fool that I am! the dwarf is right! I saw how she
blushed when her brother told her how the boys had rebelled on his
account against Ameni. It is Pentaur and none other!"
"Good!" said Ani, "we will see."
With these words he took leave of Katuti, who, as he disappeared in
the garden, muttered to herself: "He was wonderfully clear and decided
to-day; but jealousy is already blinding him and will soon make him feel
that he cannot get on without my sharp eyes."
Nemu had slipped out after the Regent.
He called to him from behind a fig-tree, and hastily whispered, while he
bowed with deep respect:
"My mother knows a great deal, most noble highness! The sacred Ibis
[Ibis religiosa. It has disappeared from Egypt There were two
varieties of this bird, which was sacred to Toth, and mummies of
both have been found in various places. Elian states that an
immortal Ibis was shown at Hermopolis. Plutarch says, the ibis
destroys poisonous reptiles, and that priests draw the water for
their purifications where the Ibis has drunk, as it will never touch
unwholesome water.]
wades through the fen when it goes in search of prey, and why shouldst
thou not stoop to pick up gold out of the dust? I know how thou couldst
speak with the old woman without being seen."
"Speak," said Ani.
"Throw her into prison for a day, hear what she has to say, and then
release her--with gifts if she is of service to you--if not, with blows.
But thou wilt learn something important from her that she obstinately
refused to tell me even."
"We will see!" replied the Regent. He threw a ring of gold to the dwarf
and got into his chariot.
So large a crowd had collected in the vicinity of the palace, that Ani
apprehended mischief, and ordered his charioteer to check the pace
of the horses, and sent a few police-soldiers to the support of the
out-runners; but good news seemed to await him, for at the gate of the
castle he heard the unmistakable acclamations of the crowd, and in the
palace court he found a messenger from the temple of Seti, commissioned
by Ameni to communicate to him and to the people, the occurrence of a
great miracle, in that the heart of the ram of Anion, that had been torn
by wolves, had been found again within the breast of the dead prophet
Rui.
Ani at once descended from his chariot, knelt down before all the
people, who followed his example, lifted his arms to heaven, and praised
the Gods in a loud voice. When, after some minutes, he rose and entered
the palace, slaves came out and distributed bread to the crowd in
Ameni's name.
"The Regent has an open hand," said a joiner to his neighbor; "only look
how white the bread is. I will put it in my pocket and take it to the
children."
"Give me a bit!" cried a naked little scamp, snatching the cake of bread
from the joiner's hand and running away, slipping between the legs of
the people as lithe as a snake.
"You crocodile's brat!" cried his victim. "The insolence of boys gets
worse and worse every day."
"They are hungry," said the woman apologetically. "Their fathers are
gone to the war, and the mothers have nothing for their children but
papyrus-pith and lotus-seeds."
"I hope they enjoy it," laughed the joiner. "Let us push to the left;
there is a man with some more bread."
"The Regent must rejoice greatly over the miracle," said a shoemaker.
"It is costing him something."
"Nothing like it has happened for a long time," said a basket-maker.
"And he is particularly glad it should be precisely Rui's body, which
the sacred heart should have blessed. You ask why?--Hatasu is Ani's
ancestress, blockhead!"
"And Rui was prophet of the temple of Hatasu," added the joiner.
"The priests over there are all hangers-on of the old royal house, that
I know," asserted a baker.
"That's no secret!" cried the cobbler. "The old times were better than
these too. The war upsets everything, and quite respectable people go
barefoot because they cannot pay for shoe-leather. Rameses is a great
warrior, and the son of Ra, but what can he do without the Gods; and
they don't seem to like to stay in Thebes any longer; else why should
the heart of the sacred ram seek a new dwelling in the Necropolis, and
in the breast of an adherent of the old--"
"Hold your tongue," warned the basket-maker. "Here comes one of the
watch."
"I must go back to work," said the baker. "I have my hands quite full
for the feast to-morrow."
"And I too," said the shoemaker with a sigh, "for who would follow the
king of the Gods through the Necropolis barefoot."
"You must earn a good deal," cried the basket-maker. "We should do
better if we had better workmen," replied the shoemaker, "but all
the good hands are gone to the war. One has to put up with stupid
youngsters. And as for the women! My wife must needs have a new gown for
the procession, and bought necklets for the children. Of course we must
honor the dead, and they repay it often by standing by us when we want
it--but what I pay for sacrifices no one can tell. More than half of
what I earn goes in them--"
"In the first grief of losing my poor wife," said the baker, "I promised
a small offering every new moon, and a greater one every year. The
priests will not release us from our vows, and times get harder and
harder. And my dead wife owes me a grudge, and is as thankless as she
was is her lifetime; for when she appears to me in a dream she does not
give me a good word, and often torments me."
"She is now a glorified all-seeing spirit," said the basket-maker's
wife, "and no doubt you were faithless to her. The glorified souls know
all that happens, and that has happened on earth."
The baker cleared his throat, having no answer ready; but the shoemaker
exclaimed:
"By Anubis, the lord of the under-world, I hope I may die before my old
woman! for if she finds out down there all I have done in this world,
and if she may be changed into any shape she pleases, she will come to
me every night, and nip me like a crab, and sit on me like a mountain."
"And if you die first," said the woman, "she will follow you afterwards
to the under-world, and see through you there."
"That will be less dangerous," said the shoemaker laughing, "for then
I shall be glorified too, and shall know all about her past life. That
will not all be white paper either, and if she throws a shoe at me I
will fling the last at her."
"Come home," said the basket-maker's wife, pulling her husband away.
"You are getting no good by hearing this talk."
The bystanders laughed, and the baker exclaimed:
"It is high time I should be in the Necropolis before it gets dark, and
see to the tables being laid for to-morrow's festival. My trucks are
close to the narrow entrance to the valley. Send your little ones to me,
and I will give them something nice. Are you coming over with me?"
"My younger brother is gone over with the goods," replied the shoemaker.
"We have plenty to do still for the customers in Thebes, and here am I standing gossiping. Will the wonderful heart of the sacred ram be exhibited to-morrow do you know?" |
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