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Cleopatra
By
H. Rider Haggard
Contents
BOOK
I--THE PREPARATION OF HARMACHIS
BOOK
II--THE FALL OF HARMACHIS
CHAPTER
II - OF THE COMING OF CHARMION; AND OF THE WRATH OF SEPA..
CHAPTER
IV - OF THE WAYS OF CHARMION; AND OF THE CROWNING OF HARMACHIS AS THE KING =
OF
LOVE <=
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BOOK
III--THE VENGEANCE OF HARMACHIS
CHAPTER
X - OF THE LAST WRITING OF HARMACHIS, THE ROYAL EGYPTIAN..
CLEOPATRA
by H. Rider Haggard
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 imperfe=
ct,
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.
The history of the ruin of Antony and Cleopatra
must have struck many students of the records of their age as one of the mo=
st
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 a=
nd
army to destruction? An attempt is made in this romance to suggest a possib=
le
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 beas=
t-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 punishment=
s;
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 imagi=
nings,
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 mo=
numental
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 a=
nd Civilisation,
ancient Egypt, it is, however, respectfully suggested that they should exer=
cise
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 act=
ual
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 doubtfu=
l if
he would have resorted to such a fantastic and uncertain method of destroyi=
ng
life.
It may be mentioned that so late as the reign =
of
Ptolemy Epiphanes, pretenders of native blood, one of whom was named Harmac=
his,
are known to have advanced their claims to the throne of Egypt. Moreover, t=
here
was a book of prophecy current among the priesthood which declared that aft=
er
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 anci=
ent
history tells us little of the abortive struggles of a fallen race.
The Chant of Isis and the Song of Cleopatra, w=
hich
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
In the recesses of the desolate Libyan mountai=
ns
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 i=
s 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. T=
his
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 mor=
e.
Two of these, which in all probability inclosed the bodies of the High Prie=
st,
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 li=
mb,
searching for treasure amidst their bones--perhaps, as is their custom, sel=
ling
the very bones for a few piastres to the last ignorant tourist who came the=
ir
way, seeking what he might destroy. For in Egypt the unhappy, the living fi=
nd
their bread in the tombs of the great men who were before them.
But as it chanced, some little while afterward=
s,
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 o=
wn
words, exactly as he wrote it to me:
"I slept that night near the Temple of Se=
ti,
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 wh=
ich
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 deso=
late
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 A=
li 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 my=
self
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 o=
f 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 w=
hite
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 t=
he
breast of his robe, placed his bare feet against the smooth sides of the we=
ll and
began to descent with great rapidity. Very soon he had vanished into blackn=
ess,
and the agitation of the cord alone told us that anything was going on belo=
w.
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 appear=
ed.
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-ha=
nd
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 hai=
r,
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 wo=
rthy
Ali, covered with bats and perspiration, and with the skin rubbed off my kn=
ees
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 wit=
h 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 tota=
lly
devoid of paintings or sculpture. I held up the candles and looked round. A=
bout
the place were strewn the coffin lids and the mummied remains of the two bo=
dies
that the Arabs had previously violated. The paintings on the former were, I
noticed, of great beauty, though, having no knowledge of hieroglyphics, I c=
ould
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 b=
ody
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 t=
he
flesh, I think the face was one of the most imposing and beautiful that I e=
ver
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 (thoug=
h as
you know, I am pretty well accustomed to dead people), and put the head dow=
n in
a hurry. There were still some wrappings left upon the face of the second b=
ody,
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, point=
ing
to a large and solid case that seemed to have been carelessly thrown down i=
n a
corner, for it was lying on its side.
"I went up to it and carefully examined i=
t.
It was well made, but of perfectly plain cedar-wood--not an inscription, no=
t a
solitary God on it.
"'Never see one like him before,' said Al=
i.
'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 scatt=
ered
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 chis=
el
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 har=
d wood.
But this mummy case had eight such tongues. Evidently it had been thought w=
ell
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 la=
yer
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 fash=
ion
of the Ptolemaic period, had been set upon the face, had worked down, and w=
as 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, ne=
arly
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 ne=
atly
fastened in the usual fashion.=
All
three are written by one hand in the Demotic character.--Editor.
"Ali eyed the papyrus greedily, but I sei=
zed
it and put it in my pocket, for it was agreed that I was to have all that m=
ight
be discovered. Then we began to unwrap the body. It was covered with very b=
road
strong bandages, thickly wound and roughly tied, sometimes by means of simp=
le 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 bandag=
es
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 spi=
ces 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 f=
ace
was enough to tell a doctor how he had died.
"This body was not much dried up. Evident=
ly
it had not passed the allotted seventy days in natron, and therefore the
expression and likeness were better preserved than is usual. Without enteri=
ng
into particulars, I will only say that I hope I shall never see such anothe=
r look
as that which was frozen on this dead man's face. Even the Arabs recoiled f=
rom
it in horror and began to mutter prayers.
"For the rest, the usual opening on the l=
eft
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 rol=
ls.
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, copi=
es
of the 'Book of the Dead,' but there may be something else in them. Needles=
s 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, arriv=
ed
in London, and on the very next day we paid a visit to a learned acquaintan=
ce
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 w= ith us at intervals, and saying "I'll translate--I'll translate it if it k= ills 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!"<= o:p>
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 tom=
b.
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, hoa=
ry
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-consec=
rated
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 acquain=
tance
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 abo=
ut
to die, salutes you who follow on the path he trod. In the story of his bro=
ken
years he shows to you what may in its degree be the story of your own. Cryi=
ng
aloud from that dim Amenti[*] where to-day he wears out his long atoning ti=
me,
he tells, in the history of his fall, the fate of him who, however sorely t=
ried,
forgets his God, his Honour, and his Country.
[=
*] The
Egyptian Hades or Purgatory.--Editor.
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 desc=
ent
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 t=
he
glorious path, who forgot the voice of God in hearkening to the voice of wo=
man.
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 betr=
ayal
have betrayed, who in losing the glory that is here have lost the glory whi=
ch
is to be, who am utterly undone--I write, and, by Him who sleeps at Abouthi=
s, 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 reste=
d on
my hand--hear me; and, to the day of utter doom, bear me witness that I wri=
te
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 prie=
sts
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. S=
till
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 tow=
ard
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. An=
d 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 mothe=
r I
knew naught, for she died when I yet hung at the breast. But before she die=
d 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 Roya=
lty
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 Egyp=
t's
sceptre should pass again to the hand of Egypt's true and Royal race. But w=
hen
my father, the old High Priest Amenemhat, whose only child I was, she who w=
as
his wife before my mother having been, for what crime I know not, cursed wi=
th
barrenness by Sekhet: I say when my father came in and saw what the dying w=
oman
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 whe=
re 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 t=
hat
shalt purge the land, Divine seed of Nekt-nebf, the descended from Isis. Ke=
ep
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 t=
hy
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 broke=
n,
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 Prophe=
cy
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 sa=
id
by the Spirit of the Hathors through the mouth of my mother, and because wh=
at
had been uttered was treason against Ptolemy. For he knew that, if the matt=
er should
come to the ears of Ptolemy, Pharaoh would send his guards to destroy the l=
ife
of the child concerning whom such things were prophesied. Therefore, my fat=
her
shut the doors, and caused all those who stood by to swear upon the holy sy=
mbol
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, tho=
ugh
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--tell=
ing
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 ke=
ep
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 th=
ough
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 ph=
ysician.
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 shou=
ld
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, aski=
ng a
message from the oracles, and more especially from the oracle that is at Ph=
ilæ.
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 w=
as much
afraid, and summoning some trusty guards--who, being Greeks, did not fear t=
o 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 guar=
ds
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 opposi=
te 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 Phara=
oh
called out to the common people, who laboured at lifting water along the ba=
nks
of the river, to come with boats and take them off; but, seeing that they w=
ere
Greeks of Alexandria, the people would not, for the Egyptians do not love t=
he
Greeks. Then the guards cried that they were on Pharaoh's business, and sti=
ll
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 sl=
ay
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 s=
tand
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, mou=
nted
on asses, were hard upon us. Then the messenger cried to the old wife, Atou=
a,
whose tongue had brought about the evil, and told how the soldiers drew nea=
r to
slay me. And they looked at each other, not knowing what to do; for, had th=
ey 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 se=
t a
robe of silk upon him, and laid him on my cradle. And me she took and smear=
ed
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, offe=
red
them honey and milk, for they were thirsty.
When they had drunk, the eunuch who was with t=
hem
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, f=
or
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 for=
th
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 b=
rat
than in the Prince Harmachis; and for a moment they wavered, thinking to sl=
ay 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 trut=
h, 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.<= o:p>
Thereafter it was given out that the High Prie=
st
Amenemhat had taken me to be as a son to him in the place of that Harmachis=
who
was slain of Pharaoh.
And after these things Ptolemy the Piper troub=
led
us no more, nor did he again send his soldiers to seek for him of whom it w=
as
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 h=
air 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 tongu=
e--for
all of this I heard in after years--said to him that "he did well to b=
ow
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 caus=
ed
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--
P=
tolemy
the Piper played Over dead and
dying; Piped and played he wel=
l. 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 count=
rie-- Ptolemy the Piper!
After this the years passed on, nor did I, bei=
ng
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 concerne=
d.
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. S=
o I
grew strong and comely, for my hair was black as the hair of the divine Nou=
t,
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 wh=
om 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 w=
hich
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 sevente=
enth
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 th=
e 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 ang=
ered
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 f=
irst
he would not, for, as men know, it is our custom to hunt the lion in compan=
ies;
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. Wh=
en
we came to the place, it was near sundown; and there, upon the mud of the c=
anal-bank,
we found the lion's slot, which ran into a thick clump of reeds.
"Now, thou boaster," I said, "w=
ilt
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 no=
t 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 b=
ow
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 m=
ane
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 fe=
ll
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 g=
reat
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 he=
ad
was crushed as an egg thrown against a stone. He fell down dead, and the li=
on
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 a=
gony
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 pa=
rt, 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, w=
hen
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 Phara=
oh!
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 thin=
e?
There live, and have lived, men who have slain many lions. Did not the Divi=
ne
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 t=
hat
are too high to be written.
"O Royal One," she cried, "wise=
ly
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 Capi=
tol
at Rome--and the dead man, he is the Ptolemy--the Macedonian spawn that, li=
ke a
foreign weed, hath overgrown the land of Nile; with the Macedonian Lagidæ t=
hou
shalt go to smite the lion of Rome. But the Macedonian cur shall fly, and t=
he Roman
lion shall strike him down, and thou shalt strike down the lion, and the la=
nd
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 shou=
ld
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 se=
e.
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 m=
e 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 v=
oice--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 d=
ream
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 smar=
t 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 unse=
en
by me--"I've been speaking a spell over him, just to make a way for th=
e 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 scrap=
ing 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 shar=
ply,
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, f=
or
it was a very fierce lion--just see his teeth and his claws--his claws!--th=
ey
are enough to make a poor silly old woman like me shriek to look at them! A=
nd
the body there, the dead body--the lion slew it. Alack! he's an Osiris[*] n=
ow,
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 da=
rk.
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 grandso=
n!
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 bo=
nny.
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,&quo=
t;
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.
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 a=
fter
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 terri=
ble
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 a=
nd
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 ta=
ble
of stone on which were spread mystic writings of the words of Life and Deat=
h.
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 compan=
y with
them and with thoughts divine, he was so deeply versed in all those mysteri=
es
which we do but faintly discern, here in this upper air, that even now, bef=
ore
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 l=
ion
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 wa=
ys
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 spe=
ar 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 tempta=
tion,
he was sent as a trial of thy strength, and see! it has not been equal to t=
he
burden. Therefore thy hour is put back. Hadst thou been strong in this matt=
er,
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?&q=
uot;
"Nay," I answered; "how should I
believe such tales? Surely she is mad. All the people know her for mad.&quo=
t;
Now for the first time he looked towards me, w=
ho
was standing in the shadow.
"My son! my son!" he cried; "th=
ou
art wrong. She is not mad. The woman spoke the truth; she spoke not of hers=
elf,
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! Lis=
ten:
thou art no stranger adopted into my house and the worship of the Temple; t=
hou 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 u=
pon
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 woul=
d 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 mast=
er,
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 broth=
er
Ptolemy: for by her father's will she was left joint-sovereign with him. An=
d,
meanwhile, mark thou this, my son: the Roman eagle hangs on high, waiting w=
ith ready
talons till such time as he may fall upon the fat wether Egypt and rend him.
And mark again: the people of Egypt are weary of the foreign yoke, they hate
the memory of the Persians, and they are sick at heart of being named 'Men =
of
Macedonia' in the markets of Alexandria. The whole land mutters and murmurs
beneath the yoke of the Greek and the shadow of the Roman.
"Have we not been oppressed? Have not our
children been butchered and our gains wrung from us to fill the bottomless
greed and lust of the Lagidæ? Have not the temples been forsaken?--ay, have=
not
the majesties of the Eternal Gods been set at naught by these Grecian babbl=
ers,
who have dared to meddle with the immortal truths, and name the Most High b=
y another
name--by the name of Serapis--confounding the substance of the Invisible? D=
oes
not Egypt cry aloud for freedom?--and shall she cry in vain? Nay, nay, for
thou, my son, art the appointed way of deliverance. To thee, being sunk in =
eld,
I have decreed my rights. Already thy name is whispered in many a sanctuary,
from Abu to Athu; already priests and people swear allegiance, even by the
sacred symbols, unto him who shall be declared to them. Still, the time is =
not
yet; thou art too green a sapling to bear the weight of such a storm. But
to-day thou wast tried and found wanting.
"He who would serve the Gods, Harmachis, =
must
put aside the failings of the flesh. Taunts must not move him, nor any lust=
s of
man. Thine is a high mission, but this thou must learn. If thou learn it no=
t,
thou shalt fail therein; and then, my curse be on thee! and the curse of Eg=
ypt,
and the curse of Egypt's broken Gods! For know thou this, that even the God=
s,
who are immortal, may, in the interwoven scheme of things, lean upon the man
who is their instrument, as a warrior on his sword. And woe be to the sword
that snaps in the hour of battle, for it shall be thrown aside to rust or
perchance be melted with fire! Therefore, make thy heart pure and high and
strong; for thine is no common lot, and thine no mortal meed. Triumph,
Harmachis, and in glory thou shalt go--in glory here and hereafter! Fail, a=
nd
woe--woe be on thee!"
He paused and bowed his head, and then went on=
:
"Of these matters thou shalt hear more
hereafter. Meanwhile, thou hast much to learn. To-morrow I will give thee
letters, and thou shalt journey down the Nile, past white-walled Memphis to
Annu. There thou shalt sojourn certain years, and learn more of our ancient
wisdom beneath the shadow of those secret pyramids of which thou, too, art =
the Hereditary
High Priest that is to be. And meanwhile, I will sit here and watch, for my
hour is not yet, and, by the help of the Gods, spin the web of Death wherein
thou shalt catch and hold the wasp of Macedonia.
"Come hither, my son; come hither and kis=
s me
on the brow, for thou art my hope, and all the hope of Egypt. Be but true, =
soar
to the eagle crest of destiny, and thou shalt be glorious here and hereafte=
r.
Be false, fail, and I will spit upon thee, and thou shalt be accursed, and =
thy soul
shall remain in bondage till that hour when, in the slow flight of time, the
evil shall once more grow to good and Egypt shall again be free."
I drew near, trembling, and kissed him on the
brow. "May all these things come upon me, and more," I said, &quo=
t;if
I fail thee, my father!"
"Nay!" he cried, "not me, not m=
e;
but rather those whose will I do. And now go, my son, and ponder in thy hea=
rt,
and in thy secret heart digest my words; mark what thou shalt see, and gath=
er
up the dew of wisdom, making thee ready for the battle. Fear not for thysel=
f,
thou art protected from all ill. No harm may touch thee from without; thyse=
lf alone
can be thine own enemy. I have said."
Then I went forth with a full heart. The night=
was
very still, and none were stirring in the temple courts. I hurried through
them, and reached the entrance to the pylon that is at the outer gate. Then,
seeking solitude, and, as it were, to draw near to heaven, I climbed the
pylon's two hundred steps, until at length I reached the massive roof. Here=
I leaned
my breast against the parapet, and looked forth. As I looked, the red edge =
of
the full moon floated up over the Arabian hills, and her rays fell upon the
pylon where I stood and the temple walls beyond, lighting the visages of the
carven Gods. Then the cold light struck the stretch of well-tilled lands, n=
ow
whitening to the harvest, and as the heavenly lamp of Isis passed up to the
sky, her rays crept slowly down to the valley, where Sihor, father of the l=
and
of Khem, rolls on toward the sea.
Now the bright beams kissed the water that smi=
led
an answer back, and now mountain and valley, river, temple, town, and plain
were flooded with white light, for Mother Isis was arisen, and threw her
gleaming robe across the bosom of the earth. It was beautiful, with the bea=
uty of
a dream, and solemn as the hour after death. Mightily, indeed, the temples
towered up against the face of night. Never had they seemed so grand to me =
as
in that hour--those eternal shrines, before whose walls Time himself shall
wither. And it was to be mine to rule this moonlit land; mine to preserve t=
hose
sacred shrines, and cherish the honour of their Gods; mine to cast out the
Ptolemy and free Egypt from the foreign yoke! In my veins ran the blood of
those great Kings who await the day of Resurrection, sleeping in the tombs =
of
the valley of Thebes. My spirit swelled within me as I dreamed upon this
glorious destiny, I closed my hands, and there, upon the pylon, I prayed as=
I
had never prayed before to the Godhead, who is called by many names, and in
many forms made manifest.
"O Amen," I prayed, "God of God=
s,
who hast been from the beginning; Lord of Truth, who art, and of whom all a=
re,
who givest out thy Godhead and gatherest it up again; in the circle of whom=
the
Divine ones move and are, who wast from all time the Self-begot, and who sh=
alt
be till time--hearken unto me.[*]
[=
*] For
a somewhat similar definition of the Godhead see the funeral papyrus of Nesikhonsu, a Princ=
ess of
the Twenty- first Dynasty.--Ed=
itor.
"O Amen--Osiris, the sacrifice by whom we=
are
justified, Lord of the Region of the Winds, Ruler of the Ages, Dweller in t=
he
West, the Supreme in Amenti, hearken unto me.
"O Isis, great Mother Goddess, mother of = the Horus--mysterious Mother, Sister, Spouse, hearken unto me. If, indeed, I am= the chosen of the Gods to carry out the purpose of the Gods, let a sign be given me, even now, to seal my life to the life above. Stretch out your arms towa= rds me, O ye Gods, and uncover the glory of your countenance. Hear! ah, hear me!" And I cast myself upon my knees and lifted up my eyes to heaven.<= o:p>
And as I knelt, a cloud grew upon the face of =
the
moon covering it up, so that the night became dark, and the silence deepened
all around--even the dogs far below in the city ceased to howl, while the
silence grew and grew till it was heavy as death. I felt my spirit lifted up
within me, and my hair rose upon my head. Then of a sudden the mighty pylon=
seemed
to rock beneath my feet, a great wind beat about my brows and a voice spoke
within my heart:
"Behold a sign! Possess thyself in patien=
ce,
O Harmachis!"
And as the voice spoke, a cold hand touched my
hand, and left somewhat within it. Then the cloud rolled from the face of t=
he
moon, the wind passed, the pylon ceased to tremble, and the night was as the
night had been.
As the light came back, I gazed upon that which
had been left within my hand. It was a bud of the holy lotus new breaking i=
nto
bloom, and from it came a most sweet scent.
And while I gazed behold! the lotus passed fro=
m my
grasp and was gone, leaving me astonished.
At the dawning of the next day I was awakened =
by a
priest of the temple, who brought word to me to make ready for the journey =
of
which my father had spoken, inasmuch as there was an occasion for me to pass
down the river to Annu el Ra. Now this is the Heliopolis of the Greeks, whi=
ther
I should go in the company of some priests of Ptah at Memphis who had come =
hither
to Abouthis to lay the body of one of their great men in the tomb that had =
been
prepared near the resting place of the blessed Osiris.
So I made ready, and the same evening, having
received letters and embraced my father and those about the temple who were
dear to me, I passed down the banks of Sihor, and we sailed with the south
wind. As the pilot stood upon the prow and with a rod in his hand bade the =
sailor-men
loosen the stakes by which the vessel was moored to the banks, the old wife,
Atoua, hobbled up, her basket of simples in her hand, and, calling out
farewell, threw a sandal after me for good chance, which sandal I kept for =
many
years.
So we sailed, and for six days passed down the
wonderful river, making fast each night at some convenient spot. But when I
lost sight of the familiar things that I had seen day by day since I had ey=
es
to see, and found myself alone among strange faces, I felt very sore at hea=
rt,
and would have wept had I not been ashamed. And of all the wonderful things=
I
saw I will not write here, for, though they were new to me, have they not b=
een
known to men since such time as the Gods ruled in Egypt? But the priests who
were with me showed me no little honour and expounded to me what were the
things I saw.
On the morning of the seventh day we came to
Memphis, the city of the White Hall. Here, for three days I rested from my
journey and was entertained of the priests of the wonderful Temple of Ptah =
the
Creator, and shown the beauties of the great and marvellous city. Also I was
led in secret by the High Priest and two others into the holy presence of t=
he
God Apis, the Ptah who deigns to dwell among men in the form of a bull. The=
God
was black, and on his forehead there was a white square, on his back was a
white mark shaped like an eagle, beneath his tongue was the likeness of a
scarabæus, in his tail were double hairs, and a plate of pure gold hung bet=
ween
his horns. I entered the place of the God and worshipped, while the High Pr=
iest
and those with him stood aside, watching earnestly. And when I had worshipp=
ed,
saying the words which had been told me, the God knelt, and lay down before=
me.
Then the High Priest and those with him, who, as I heard in after time, wer=
e great
men of Upper Egypt, approached wondering, and, saying no word, made obeisan=
ce
to me because of the omen. And many other things I saw in Memphis that are =
too
long to write of here.
On the fourth day some priests of Annu came to
lead me to Sepa, my uncle, the High Priest of Annu. So, having bidden farew=
ell
to those of Memphis, we crossed the river and rode on asses two parts of a
day's journey through many villages, which we found in great poverty becaus=
e of
the oppression of the tax-gatherers. Also, as we went, I saw for the first =
time
the great pyramids that are beyond the image of the God Horemkhu, that Sphi=
nx
whom the Greeks name Harmachis, and the Temples of the Divine Mother Isis,
Queen of the Memnonia, and the God Osiris, Lord of Rosatou, of which temple=
s,
together with the Temple of the worship of the Divine Menkau-ra, I, Harmach=
is,
am by right Divine the Hereditary High Priest. I saw them and marvelled at
their greatness and the white carven limestone, and red granite of Syene, t=
hat
flashed the sun's rays back to heaven. But at this time I knew nothing of t=
he
treasure that was hid in Her, which is the third among the pyramids--would I
had never known of it!
And so at last we came within sight of Annu, w=
hich
after Memphis has been seen is no large town, but stands on raised ground,
before which are lakes fed by a canal. Behind the town is the inclosed fiel=
d of
the Temple of the God Ra.
We dismounted at the pylon, and were met benea=
th
the portico by a man not great of stature, but of noble aspect, having his =
head
shaven, and with dark eyes that twinkled like the further stars.
"Hold!" he cried, in a great voice w=
hich
fitted his weak body but ill. "Hold! I am Sepa, who opens the mouth of=
the
Gods!"
"And I," I said, "am Harmachis,=
son
of Amenemhat, Hereditary High Priest and Ruler of the Holy City Abouthis; a=
nd I
bear letters to thee, O Sepa!"
"Enter," he said. "Enter!"
scanning me all the while with his twinkling eyes. "Enter, my son!&quo=
t;
And he took me and led me to a chamber in the inner hall, closed to the doo=
r,
and then, having glanced at the letters that I brought, of a sudden he fell
upon my neck and embraced me.
"Welcome," he cried, "welcome, =
son
of my own sister, and hope of Khem! Not in vain have I prayed the Gods that=
I
might live to look upon thy face and impart to thee the wisdom which percha=
nce
I alone have mastered of those who are left alive in Egypt. There are few w=
hom
it is lawful that I should teach. But thine is the great destiny, and thine
shall be the ears to hear the lessons of the Gods."
And he embraced me once more and bade me go ba=
the
and eat, saying that on the morrow he would speak with me further.
This of a truth he did, and at such length tha=
t I
will forbear to set down all he said both then and afterwards, for if I did=
so
there would be no papyrus left in Egypt when the task was ended. Therefore,
having much to tell and but little time to tell it, I will pass over the ev=
ents
of the years that followed.
For this was the manner of my life. I rose ear=
ly,
I attended the worship of the Temple, and I gave my days to study. I learnt=
of
the rites of religion and their meaning, and of the beginning of the Gods a=
nd
the beginning of the Upper World. I learnt of the mystery of the movements =
of
the stars, and of how the earth rolls on among them. I was instructed in th=
at
ancient knowledge which is called magic, and in the way of interpretation of
dreams, and of the drawing nigh to God. I was taught the language of symbols
and their outer and inner secrets. I became acquainted with the eternal law=
s of
Good and Evil, and with the mystery of that trust which is held of man; als=
o I
learnt the secrets of the pyramids--which I would that I had never known.
Further, I read the records of the past, and of the acts and words of the
ancient kings who were before me since the rule of Horus upon earth; and I =
was
made to know all craft of state, the lore of earth, and with it the history=
of Greece
and Rome. Also I learnt the Grecian and Roman tongues, of which indeed I
already had some knowledge--and all this while, for five long years, I kept=
my
hands clean and my heart pure, and did no evil in the sight of God or man; =
but
laboured heavily to acquire all things, and to prepare myself for the desti=
ny
that awaited me.
Twice every year greetings and letters came fr=
om
my father Amenemhat, and twice every year I sent back my answers asking if =
the
time had come to cease from labour. And so the days of my probation sped aw=
ay
till I grew faint and weary at heart, for being now a man, ay and learned, =
I longed
to make a beginning of the life of men. And often I wondered if this talk a=
nd
prophecy of the things that were to be was but a dream born of the brains of
men whose wish ran before their thought. I was, indeed, of the Royal blood,
that I knew: for my uncle, Sepa the Priest, showed me a secret record of the
descent, traced without break from father to son, and graven in mystic symb=
ols
on a tablet of the stone of Syene. But of what avail was it to be Royal by
right when Egypt, my heritage, was a slave--a slave to do the pleasure and
minister to the luxury of the Macedonian Lagidæ--ay, and when she had been =
so
long a serf that, perchance, she had forgotten how to put off the servile s=
mile
of Bondage and once more to look across the world with Freedom's happy eyes=
?
Then I bethought me of my prayer upon the pylon
tower of Abouthis and of the answer given to my prayer, and wondered if tha=
t,
too, were a dream.
And one night, as, weary with study, I walked
within the sacred grove that is in the garden of the temple, and mused thus=
, I
met my uncle Sepa, who also was walking and thinking.
"Hold!" he cried in his great voice;
"why is thy face so sad, Harmachis? Has the last problem that we studi=
ed
overwhelmed thee?"
"Nay, my uncle," I answered, "I=
am
overwhelmed indeed, but not of the problem; it was a light one. My heart is
heavy, for I am weary of life within these cloisters, and the piled-up weig=
ht
of knowledge crushes me. It is of no avail to store up force which cannot be
used."
"Ah, thou art impatient, Harmachis,"= he answered; "it is ever the way of foolish youth. Thou wouldst taste of = the battle; thou dost tire of watching the breakers fall upon the beach, thou wouldst plunge into them and venture the desperate hazard of the war. And so thou wouldst be going, Harmachis? The bird would fly the nest as, when they= are grown, the swallows fly from the eaves of the Temple. Well, it shall be as = thou desirest; the hour is at hand. I have taught thee all that I have learned, = and methinks that the pupil has outrun his master," and he paused and wiped his bright black eyes, for he was very sad at the thought of my departure.<= o:p>
"And whither shall I go, my uncle?" I
asked rejoicing; "back to Abouthis to be initiated into the mysteries =
of
the Gods?"
"Ay, back to Abouthis, and from Abouthis =
to
Alexandria, and from Alexandria to the Throne of thy fathers, Harmachis!
Listen, now; things are thus: Thou knowest how Cleopatra, the Queen, fled i=
nto
Syria when that false eunuch Pothinus set the will of her father Aulêtes at
naught and raised her brother Ptolemy to the sole lordship of Egypt. Thou k=
nowest
also how she came back, like a Queen indeed, with a great army in her train,
and lay at Pelusium, and how at this juncture the mighty Cæsar, that great =
man,
that greatest of all men, sailed with a weak company hither to Alexandria f=
rom
Pharsalia's bloody field in hot pursuit of Pompey. But he found Pompey alre=
ady
dead, having been basely murdered by Achillas, the General, and Lucius
Septimius, the chief of the Roman legions in Egypt, and thou knowest how the
Alexandrians were troubled at his coming and would have slain his lictors.
Then, as thou hast heard, Cæsar seized Ptolemy, the young King, and his sis=
ter Arsinoë,
and bade the army of Cleopatra and the army of Ptolemy, under Achillas, whi=
ch
lay facing each other at Pelusium, disband and go their ways. And for answer
Achillas marched on Cæsar, and besieged him straitly in the Bruchium at
Alexandria, and so, for a while, things were, and none knew who should reig=
n in
Egypt. But then Cleopatra took up the dice, and threw them, and this was the
throw she made--in truth, it was a bold one. For, leaving the army at Pelus=
ium,
she came at dusk to the harbour of Alexandria, and alone with the Sicilian
Apollodorus entered and landed. Then Apollodorus bound her in a bale of rich
rugs, such as are made in Syria, and sent the rugs as a present to Cæsar. A=
nd when
the rugs were unbound in the palace, behold! within them was the fairest gi=
rl
on all the earth--ay, and the most witty and the most learned. And she sedu=
ced
the great Cæsar--even his weight of years did not avail to protect him from=
her
charms--so that, as a fruit of his folly, he wellnigh lost his life, and all
the glory he had gained in a hundred wars."
"The fool!" I broke in--"the fo=
ol!
Thou callest him great; but how can the man be truly great who has no stren=
gth
to stand against a woman's wiles? Cæsar, with the world hanging on his word!
Cæsar, at whose breath forty legions marched and changed the fate of people=
s!
Cæsar the cold! the far-seeing! the hero!--Cæsar to fall like a ripe fruit =
into
a false girl's lap! Why, in the issue, of what common clay was this Roman
Cæsar, and how poor a thing!"
But Sepa looked at me and shook his head. &quo= t;Be not so rash, Harmachis, and talk not with so proud a voice. Knowest thou not that in every suit of mail there is a joint, and woe to him who wears the harness if the sword should search it out! For Woman, in her weakness, is y= et the strongest force upon the earth. She is the helm of all things human; sh= e comes in many shapes and knocks at many doors; she is quick and patient, and her passion is not ungovernable like that of man, but as a gentle steed that she can guide e'en where she will, and as occasion offers can now bit up and now give rein. She has a captain's eye, and stout must be that fortress of the heart in which she finds no place of vantage. Does thy blood beat fast in youth? She will outrun it, nor will her kisses tire. Art thou set toward ambition? She will unlock thy inner heart, and show thee roads that lead to glory. Art thou worn and weary? She has comfort in her breast. Art thou fal= len? She can lift thee up, and to the illusion of thy sense gild defeat with triumph. Ay, Harmachis, she can do these things, for Nature ever fights upon her side; and while she does them she can deceive and shape a secret end in which thou hast no part. And thus Woman rules the world. For her are wars; = for her men spend their strength in gathering gains; for her they do well and i= ll, and seek for greatness, to find oblivion. But still she sits like yonder Sphinx, and smiles; and no man has ever read all the riddle of her smile, or known = all the mystery of her heart. Mock not! mock not! Harmachis; for he must be gre= at indeed who can defy the power of Woman, which, pressing round him like the invisible air, is often strongest when the senses least discover it."<= o:p>
I laughed aloud. "Thou speakest earnestly=
, my
uncle Sepa," I said; "one might almost think that thou hadst not =
come
unscathed through this fierce fire of temptation. Well, for myself, I fear =
not
woman and her wiles; I know naught of them, and naught do I wish to know; a=
nd I
still hold that this Cæsar was a fool. Had I stood where Cæsar stood, to co=
ol its
wantonness that bale of rugs should have been rolled down the palace steps,
into the harbour mud."
"Nay, cease! cease!" he cried aloud.
"It is evil to speak thus; may the Gods avert the omen and preserve to
thee this cold strength of which thou boastest. Oh! man, thou knowest
not!--thou in thy strength and beauty that is without compare, in the power=
of
thy learning and the sweetness of thy tongue--thou knowest not! The world w=
here
thou must mix is not a sanctuary as that of the Divine Isis. But there--it =
may
be so! Pray that thy heart's ice may never melt, so thou shalt be great and=
happy
and Egypt shall be delivered. And now let me take up my tale--thou seest,
Harmachis, even in so grave a story woman claims her place. The young Ptole=
my,
Cleopatra's brother, being loosed of Cæsar, treacherously turned on him. Th=
en
Cæsar and Mithridates stormed the camp of Ptolemy, who took to flight across
the river. But his boat was sunk by the fugitives who pressed upon it, and =
such
was the miserable end of Ptolemy.
"Thereon, the war being ended, though she=
had
but then borne him a son, Cæsarion, Cæsar appointed the younger Ptolemy to =
rule
with Cleopatra, and be her husband in name, and he himself departed for Rom=
e,
bearing with him the beautiful Princess Arsinoë to follow his triumph in he=
r chains.
But the great Cæsar is no more. He died as he had lived, in blood, and right
royally. And but now Cleopatra, the Queen, if my tidings may be trusted, has
slain Ptolemy, her brother and husband, by poison, and taken the child Cæsa=
rion
to be her fellow on the throne, which she holds by the help of the Roman
legions, and, as they say, of young Sextus Pompeius, who has succeeded Cæsa=
r in
her love. But, Harmachis, the whole land boils and seethes against her. In
every city the children of Khem talk of the deliverer who is to come--and t=
hou
art he, Harmachis. The time is almost ripe. The hour is nigh at hand. Go th=
ou
back to Abouthis and learn the last secrets of the Gods, and meet those who
shall direct the bursting of the storm. Then act, Harmachis--act, I say, and
strike home for Khem, rid the land of the Roman and the Greek, and take thy
place upon the throne of thy divine fathers and be a King of men. For to th=
is
end thou wast born, O Prince!"
On the next day I embraced my uncle Sepa, and =
with
an eager heart departed from Annu back to Abouthis. To be short, I came thi=
ther
in safety, having been absent five years and a month, being now no more a b=
oy
but a man full grown and having my mind well stocked with the knowledge of =
men
and the ancient wisdom of Egypt. So once again I saw the old lands, and the
known faces, though of these some few were wanting, having been gathered to
Osiris. Now, as, riding across the fields, I came nigh to the enclosure of =
the
Temple, the priests and people issued forth to bid me welcome, and with them
the old wife, Atoua, who, but for a few added wrinkles that Time had cut up=
on
her forehead, was just as she had been when she threw the sandal after me f=
ive
long years before.
"La! la! la!" she cried; "and t=
here
thou art, my bonny lad; more bonny even than thou wert! La! what a man! what
shoulders! and what a face and form! Ah, it does an old woman credit to have
dandled thee! But thou art over-pale; those priests down there at Annu have
starved thee, surely? Starve not thyself: the Gods love not a skeleton. 'Em=
pty
stomach makes empty head' as they say at Alexandria. But this is a glad hou=
r; ay,
a joyous hour. Come in--come in!" and as I lighted down she embraced m=
e.
But I thrust her aside. "My father! where=
is
my father?" I cried; "I see him not!"
"Nay, nay, have no fear," she answer=
ed;
"his Holiness is well; he waits thee in his chamber. There, pass on. O
happy day! O happy Abouthis!"
So I went, or rather ran, and reached the cham=
ber
of which I have written, and there at the table sat my father, Amenemhat, t=
he
same as he had been, but very old. I came to him and, kneeling before him,
kissed his hand, and he blessed me.
"Look up, my son," he said, "le=
t my
old eyes gaze upon thy face, that I may read thy heart."
So I lifted up my head, and he looked upon me =
long
and earnestly.
"I read thee," he said at length;
"thou art pure and strong in wisdom; I have not been deceived in thee.=
Oh,
the years have been lonely; but I did well to send thee hence. Now, tell me=
of
thy life; for thy letters have told me little, and thou canst not know, my =
son,
how hungry is a father's heart."
And so I told him; we sat far into the night a=
nd
talked together. And in the end he bade me know that I must now prepare to =
be
initiated into those last mysteries that are learned of the chosen of the G=
ods.
And so it came about that for a space of three
months I prepared myself according to the holy customs. I ate no meat. I was
constant in the sanctuaries, in the study of the secrets of the Great Sacri=
fice
and of the woe of the Holy Mother. I watched and prayed before the altars. =
I lifted
up my soul to God; ay, in dreams I communed with the Invisible, till at len=
gth
earth and earth's desires seemed to pass from me. I longed no more for the
glory of this world, my heart hung above it as an eagle on his outstretched
wings, and the voice of the world's blame could not stir it, and the vision=
of
its beauty brought no delight. For above me was the vast vault of heaven, w=
here
in unalterable procession the stars pass on, drawing after them the destini=
es
of men; where the Holy Ones sit upon their burning thrones, and watch the
chariot-wheels of Fate as they roll from sphere to sphere. O hours of holy =
contemplation!
who, having once tasted of your joy could wish again to grovel on the earth=
? O
vile flesh to drag us down! I would that thou hadst then altogether fallen =
from
me, and left my spirit free to seek Osiris!
The months of probation passed but too swiftly,
and now the holy day drew near when I was in truth to be united to the
universal Mother. Never hath Night so longed for the promise of the Dawn; n=
ever
hath the heart of a lover so passionately desired the sweet coming of his
bride, as I longed to see Thy glorious face, O Isis! Even now that I have b=
een faithless
to Thee, and Thou art far from me, O Divine! my soul goes out to Thee, and =
once
more I know----But as it is bidden that I should draw the veil, and speak of
things which have not been told since the beginning of this world, let me p=
ass
on and reverently set down the history of that holy morn.
For seven days the great festival had been
celebrated, the suffering of the Lord Osiris had been commemorated, the gri=
ef
of the Mother Isis had been sung and glory had been done to the memory of t=
he
coming of the Divine Child Horus, the Son, the Avenger, the God-begot. All
these things had been carried out according to the ancient rites. The boats=
had
floated on the sacred lake, the priests had scourged themselves before the
sanctuaries, and the images had been borne through the streets at night.
And now, as the sun sank on the seventh day, o=
nce
more the great procession gathered to chant the woes of Isis and tell how t=
he
evil was avenged. We went in silence from the temple, and passed through the
city ways. First came those who clear the path, then my father Amenemhat in=
all
his priestly robes, and the wand of cedar in his hand. Then, clad in pure
linen, I, the neophyte, followed alone; and after me the white-robed priest=
s,
holding aloft banners and emblems of the Gods. Next came those who bear the
sacred boat, and after them the singers and the mourners; while, stretching=
as
far as the eye could reach, all the people marched, clad in melancholy black
because Osiris was no more. We went in silence through the city streets til=
l at
length we came to the wall of the temple and passed in. And as my father, t=
he
High Priest, entered beneath the gateway of the outer pylon, a sweet-voiced
woman singer began to sing the Holy Chant, and thus she sang:
"Sing we Osiris dead, Lament the fallen head: The light has left the world, the wo=
rld is
grey. Athwart the starry skies=
The web of Darkness flies, And Isis weeps Osiris passed away. <=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> Your tears, ye stars, ye fires, ye r=
ivers,
shed, Weep, children of the Ni=
le,
weep for your Lord is dead!"
She paused in her most sweet song, and the who=
le
multitude took up the melancholy dirge:
"Softly we tread, our measured footsteps falling Within the Sanctuary Sevenfold; Soft on the Dead that liveth are we
calling: 'Return, Osiris, from=
thy
Kingdom cold! Return to them t=
hat
worship thee of old!'"
The chorus ceased, and once again she sang:
"Within the court divine The Sevenfold sacred shrine We pass, while echoes of the Temple =
walls Repeat the long lament The sound of sorrow sent Far up within the imperishable halls=
, Where, each in the other's arms, the
Sisters weep, Isis and Nephthy=
s,
o'er His unawaking sleep."
And then again rolled forth the solemn chorus =
of a
thousand voices:
&=
quot;Softly
we tread, our measured footsteps falling Within the Sanctuary Sevenfold; Soft on the Dead that liveth are we
calling: 'Return, Osiris, from=
thy
Kingdom cold! Return to them t=
hat
worship thee of old!'" It ceased, and sweetly she took up the song:
&=
quot;O
dweller in the West, Lover and
Lordliest, Thy love, thy Sister
Isis, calls thee home! Come fr=
om thy
chamber dun Thou Master of the=
Sun, Thy shadowy chamber far below the fo=
am! With weary wings and spent Through all the firmament, Through all the horror-haunted ways =
of
Hell, I seek thee near and far=
, From star to wandering star, Free with the dead that in Amenti dw=
ell. I search the height, the deep, the l=
ands,
the skies, Rise from the dead and live, our Lord
Osiris, rise!"
"Softly we tread, our measured footsteps falling Within the Sanctuary Sevenfold; Soft on the Dead that liveth are we
calling: 'Return, Osiris, from=
thy
Kingdom cold! Return to them t=
hat
worship thee of old!'"
Now in a strain more high and glad the singer
sang:
"He wakes--from forth the prison We sing Osiris risen, We sing the child that Nout conceive=
d and
bare. Thine own love, Isis, wa=
its The Warden of the Gates, She breathes the breath of Life on b=
reast
and hair, And in her breast and
breath Behold! he waketh, Behold! at length he riseth out of r=
est; Touched with her holy hands, The Lord of all the Lands, He stirs, he rises from her breath, =
her
breast! But thou, fell Typhon,=
fly, The judgment day drawn nigh, Fleet on thy track as flame speeds H=
orus
from the sky."
"Softly we tread, our measured footsteps falling Within the Sanctuary Sevenfold; Soft on the Dead that liveth are we
calling: 'Return, Osiris, from=
thy
Kingdom cold! Return to them t=
hat
worship thee of old!'"
Once more, as we bowed before the Holy, she sa=
ng,
and sent the full breath of her glad music ringing up the everlasting walls
till the silence quivered with her round notes of melody, and the hearts of
those who hearkened stirred strangely in the breast. And thus, as we walked=
, she
sang the song of Osiris risen, the song of Hope, the song of Victory:
"Sing we the Trinity, Sing we the Holy Three, Sing we, and praise we and worship t=
he
Throne, Throne that our Lord h=
ath
set-- There peace and truth ar=
e met There in the Halls of the Holy alone=
! There in the shadowings Faint of the folded wings, There shall we dwell and rejoice in =
our
rest, We that thy servants are=
! Horus drive ill afar! Far in the folds of the dark of the
West!"
Again, as her notes died away, thundered forth=
the
chorus of all the voices:
"Softly we tread, our measured foot=
steps
falling Within the Sanctuary
Sevenfold; Soft on the Dead th=
at
liveth are we calling: 'Return,
Osiris, from thy Kingdom cold! Return to them that worship thee of
old!'"
The chanting ceased, and as the sun sank the H=
igh
Priest raised the statue of the living God and held it before the multitude
that was now gathered in the court of the temple. Then, with a mighty and
joyful shout of:
"Osiris our hope! Osiris! Osiris!"
the people tore their black wrappings from the=
ir
dress, revealing the white robes they wore beneath, and, as one man, they b=
owed
before the God, and the feast was ended.
But f=
or me
the ceremony was only begun, for to-night was the night of my initiation.
Leaving the inner court I bathed myself, and, clad in pure linen, passed, a=
s it
is ordained, into an inner, but not the inmost, sanctuary, and laid the
accustomed offerings on the altar. Then, lifting my hands to heaven, I rema=
ined
for many hours in contemplation, striving, by holy thoughts and prayer, to
gather up my strength against the mighty moment of my trial.
The hours sped slowly in the silence of the
temple, till at length the door opened and my father Amenemhat, the High
Priest, came in, clad in white, and leading by the hand the Priest of Isis.
For, having been married, he did not himself enter into the mysteries of the
Holy Mother.
I rose to my feet and stood humbly before them=
.
"Art thou ready?" said the priest,
lifting the lamp he held so that its light fell upon my face. "O thou
chosen one, art thou ready to see the glory of the Goddess face to face?&qu=
ot;
"I am ready," I answered.
"Behold thee," he said again, in sol=
emn
tones, "it is no small thing. If thou wilt carry out this thy last des=
ire,
understand, royal Harmachis, that now this very night thou must die for a w=
hile
in the flesh, what time thy soul shall look on spiritual things. And if thou
diest and any evil shall be found within thy heart, when thou comest at last
into that awful presence, woe unto thee, Harmachis, for the breath of life
shall no more enter in at the gateway of thy mouth, thy body shall utterly =
perish,
and what shall befall thy other parts, if I know, I may not say.[*] Art thou
prepared to be taken to the breast of Her who Was and Is and Shall Be, and =
in
all things to do Her holy will; for Her, while she shall so command, to put
away the thought of earthly woman; and to labour always for Her glory till =
at
the end thy life is gathered to Her eternal life?"
[=
*]
According to the Egyptian religion the being Man is composed of four parts: the body, the
double or astral shape (ka), t=
he
soul (bi), and the spark of life sprung from the Godhead (khou).--Editor.
"I am," I answered; "lead on.&q=
uot;
"It is well," said the priest.
"Noble Amenemhat, we go hence alone."
"Farewell, my son," said my father;
"be firm and triumph over things spiritual as thou shalt triumph over
things earthly. He who would truly rule the world must first be lifted up a=
bove
the world. He must be at one with God, for thus only shall he learn the sec=
rets
of the Divine. But beware! The Gods demand much of those who dare to enter =
the
circle of their Divinity. If they go back therefrom, they shall be judged o=
f a sharper
law, and scourged with a heavier rod, for as their glory is, so shall their
shame be. Therefore, make thy heart strong, royal Harmachis! And when thou
speedest down the ways of Night and enterest the Holies, remember that from=
him
to whom great gifts have been given shall gifts be required again. And now-=
-if,
indeed, thy mind be fixed--go whither it is not as yet given me to follow t=
hee.
Farewell!"
For a moment as my heart weighed these heavy
words, I wavered, as well as I might. But I was filled with longing to be
gathered to the company of the Divine ones, and I knew that I had no evil in
me, and desired to do only the thing that is just. Therefore, having with so
much labour drawn the bowstring to my ear, I was fain to let fly the shaft.
"Lead on," I cried with a loud voice; "lead on, thou holy
Priest! I follow thee!"
And we went forth.
In silence we passed into the Shrine of Isis. =
It
was dark and bare--only the feeble light from the lamp gleamed faintly upon=
the
sculptured walls, where, in a hundred effigies, the Holy Mother suckled the
Holy Child.
The priest closed the doors and bolted them.
"Once again," he said, "art thou ready, Harmachis?"
"Once again," I answered, "I am
ready."
He spoke no more; but, having lifted up his ha=
nds
in prayer, led me to the centre of the Holy, and with a swift motion put out
the lamp.
"Look before thee, Harmachis!" he cr=
ied;
and his voice sounded hollow in the solemn place.
I gazed and saw nothing. But from the niche th=
at
is high in the wall, where is hid that sacred symbol of the Goddess on which
few may look, there came a sound as of the rattling rods of the sistrum.[*]=
And
as I listened, awestruck, behold! I saw the outline of the symbol drawn as =
with
fire upon the blackness of the air. It hung above my head, and rattled whil=
e it
hung. And, as it turned, I clearly saw the face of the Mother Isis that is
graven on the one side, and signifies unending Birth, and the face of her h=
oly
sister, Nephthys, that is graven on the other, and signifies the ending of =
all
birth in Death.
[=
*] A
musical instrument peculiarly sacred to Isis of which the shape and rods had a mystic
significance.--Editor.
Slowly it turned and swung as though some myst=
ic
dancer trod the air above me, and shook it in her hand. But at length the l=
ight
went out, and the rattling ceased.
Then of a sudden the end of the chamber became
luminous, and in that white light I beheld picture after picture. I saw the
ancient Nile rolling through deserts to the sea. There were no men upon its
banks, nor any signs of man, nor any temples to the Gods. Only wild birds m=
oved
on Sihor's lonely face, and monstrous brutes plunged and wallowed in his wa=
ters.
The sun sank in majesty behind the Libyan Desert and stained the waters red;
the mountains towered up towards the silent sky; but in mountain, desert, a=
nd
river there was no sign of human life. Then I knew that I saw the world as =
it
had been before man was, and a terror of its loneliness entered my soul.
The picture passed and another rose up in its
place. Once again I saw the banks of Sihor, and on them crowded wild-faced
creatures, partaking of the nature of the ape more than of the nature of ma=
nkind.
They fought and slew each other. The wild birds sprang up in affright as the
fire leapt from reed huts given by foemen's hands to flame and pillage. The=
y stole
and rent and murdered, dashing out the brains of children with axes of ston=
e.
And, though no voice told me, I knew that I saw man as he was tens of thous=
ands
of years ago, when first he marched across the earth.
Yet another picture. Again I beheld the banks =
of
Sihor; but on them fair cities bloomed like flowers. In and out their gates
went men and women, passing to and fro from wide, well-tilled lands. But I =
saw
no guards or armies, and no weapons of war. All was wisdom, prosperity, and
peace. And while I wondered, a glorious Figure, clad in raiment that shone =
as
flame, came from the gates of a shrine, and the sound of music went before =
and
followed after him. He mounted an ivory throne which was set in a market-pl=
ace
facing the water: and as the sun sank called in all the multitudes to praye=
r.
With one voice they prayed, bending in adoration. And I understood that her=
ein
was shown the reign of the Gods on earth, which was long before the days of
Menes.
A change came over the dream. Still the same f=
air
city, but other men--men with greed and evil on their faces--who hated the
bonds of righteous doing, and set their hearts on sin. The evening came; th=
e glorious
Figure mounted the throne and called to prayer, but none bowed themselves in
adoration.
"We are aweary of thee!" they cried.
"Make Evil King! Slay him! slay him! and loose the bonds of Evil! Make
Evil King!"
The glorious Shape rose up, gazing with mild e=
yes
upon those wicked men.
"Ye know not what ye ask," he cried;
"but as ye will, so be it! For if I die, by me, after much travail, sh=
all
ye once again find a path to the Kingdom of Good!"
Even as he spoke, a Form, foul and hideous to
behold, leapt upon him, cursing, slew him, tore him limb from limb, and ami=
dst
the clamour of the people sat himself upon the throne and ruled. But a Shape
whose face was veiled passed down from heaven on shadowy wings, and with la=
mentations
gathered up the rent fragments of the Being. A moment she bent herself upon
them, then lifted up her hands and wept. And as she wept, behold! from her =
side
there sprang a warrior armed and with a face like the face of Ra at noon. H=
e,
the Avenger, hurled himself with a shout upon the Monster who had usurped t=
he
throne, and they closed in battle, and, struggling ever in a strait embrace,
passed upward to the skies.
Then came picture after picture. I saw Powers =
and
Peoples clad in various robes and speaking many tongues. I saw them pass and
pass in millions--loving, hating, struggling, dying. Some few were happy an=
d some
had woe stamped upon their faces; but most bore not the seal of happiness n=
or
of woe, but rather that of patience. And ever as they passed from age to ag=
e,
high above in the heavens the Avenger fought on with the Evil Thing, while =
the
scale of victory swung now here now there. But neither conquered, nor was it
given to me to know how the battle ended.
And I understood that what I had beheld was the
holy vision of the struggle between the Good and the Evil Powers. I saw that
man was created vile, but Those who are above took pity on him, and came do=
wn to
him to make him good and happy, for the two things are one thing. But man
returned to his wicked way, and then the bright Spirit of Good, who is of us
called Osiris, but who has many names, offered himself up for the evil-doin=
g of
the race that had dethroned him. And from him and the Divine Mother, of whom
all nature is, sprang another spirit who is the Protector of us on earth, as
Osiris is our justifier in Amenti.
For this is the mystery of the Osiris.
Of a sudden, as I saw the visions, these things
became clear to me. The mummy cloths of symbol and of ceremony that wrap Os=
iris
round fell from him, and I understood the secret of religion, which is
Sacrifice.
The pictures passed, and again the priest, my
guide, spoke to me.
"Hast thou understood, Harmachis, those
things which it has been granted thee to see?"
"I have," I said. "Are the rites
ended?"
"Nay, they are but begun. That which foll=
ows
thou must endure alone! Behold I leave thee, to return at the morning light.
Once more I warn thee. That which thou shalt see, few may look upon and liv=
e.
In all my days I have known but three who dared to face this dread hour, an=
d of
those three at dawn but one was found alive. Myself, I have not trod this p=
ath.
It is too high for me."
"Depart," I said; "my soul is
athirst for knowledge. I will dare it."
He laid his hand upon my shoulder and blessed =
me.
He went. I heard the door shut to behind him, the echoes of his footsteps
slowly died away.
Then I felt that I was alone, alone in the Holy
Place with Things which are not of the earth. Silence fell--silence deep an=
d black
as the darkness which was around me. The silence fell, it gathered as the c=
loud
gathered on the face of the moon that night when, a lad, I prayed upon the
pylon towers. It gathered denser and yet more dense till it seemed to creep
into my heart and call aloud therein; for utter silence has a voice that is
more terrible than any cry. I spoke; the echoes of my words came back upon =
me
from the walls and seemed to beat me down. The stillness was lighter to end=
ure
than an echo such as this. What was I about to see? Should I die, even now,=
in
the fulness of my youth and strength? Terrible were the warnings that had b=
een
given to me. I was fear-stricken, and bethought me that I would fly. Fly!--=
fly
whither? The temple door was barred; I could not fly. I was alone with the
Godhead, alone with the Power that I had invoked. Nay, my heart was pure--m=
y heart
was pure. I would face the terror that was to come, ay, even though I died.=
"Isis, Holy Mother," I prayed.
"Isis, Spouse of Heaven, come unto me, be with me now; I faint! be wit=
h me
now."
And then I knew that things were not as things=
had
been. The air around me began to stir, it rustled as the wings of eagles
rustle, it took life. Bright eyes gazed upon me, strange whispers shook my
soul. Upon the darkness were bars of light. They changed and interchanged, =
they
moved to and fro and wove mystic symbols which I could not read. Swifter and
swifter flew that shuttle of the light: the symbols grouped, gathered, fade=
d,
gathered yet again, faster and still more fast, till my eyes could count th=
em
no more. Now I was afloat upon a sea of glory; it surged and rolled, as the
ocean rolls; it tossed me high, it brought me low. Glory was piled on glory,
splendour heaped on splendour's head, and I rode above it all!
Soon the lights began to pale in the rolling s=
ea
of air. Great shadows shot across it, lines of darkness pierced it and rush=
ed
together on its breast, till, at length, I was only a Shape of Flame set li=
ke a
star on the bosom of immeasurable night. Bursts of awful music gathered from
far away. Miles and miles away I heard them, thrilling faintly through the =
gloom.
On they came, nearer and more near, louder and more loud, till they swept p=
ast,
above, below, around me, swept on rushing pinions, terrifying and enchanting
me. They floated by, ever growing fainter, till they died in space. Then ot=
hers
came, and no two were akin. Some rattled as ten thousand sistra shaken all =
to
tune. Some rank from the brazen throats of unnumbered clarions. Some pealed
with a loud, sweet chant of voices that were more than human; and some roll=
ed
along in the slow thunder of a million drums. They passed; their notes were
lost in dying echoes; and the silence once more pressed in upon me and over=
came
me.
The strength within me began to fail. I felt my
life ebbing at its springs. Death drew near to me and his shape was Silence=
. He
entered at my heart, entered with a sense of numbing cold, but my brain was=
still
alive, I could yet think. I knew that I was drawing near the confines of the
Dead. Nay, I was dying fast, and oh, the horror of it! I strove to pray and
could not; there was no more time for prayer. One struggle and the stillness
crept into my brain. The terror passed; an unfathomable weight of sleep pre=
ssed
me down. I was dying, I was dying, and then--nothingness!
I was dead!
A change--life came back to me, but between the
new life and the life that had been was a gulf and difference. Once again I
stood in the darkness of the shrine, but it blinded me no more. It was clea=
r as
the light of day, although it still was black. I stood; and yet it was not I
who stood, but rather my spiritual part, for at my feet lay my dead Self. T=
here
it lay, rigid and still, a stamp of awful calm sealed upon its face, while I
gazed on it.
And as I gazed, filled with wonder, I was caug=
ht
up on the Wings of Flame and whirled away! away! faster than the lightnings
flash. Down I fell, through depths of empty space set here and there with
glittering crowns of stars. Down for ten million miles and ten times ten mi=
llion,
till at length I hovered over a place of soft, unchanging light, wherein we=
re
Temples, Palaces, and Abodes, such as no man ever saw in the visions of his
sleep. They were built of Flame, and they were built of Blackness. Their sp=
ires
pierced up and up; their great courts stretched around. Even as I hovered t=
hey
changed continually to the eye; what was Flame became Blackness, what was
Blackness became Flame. Here was the flash of crystal, and there the blaze =
of
gems shone even through the glory that rolls around the city which is in the
Place of Death. There were trees, and their voice as they rustled was the v=
oice
of music; there was air, and, as it blew, its breath was the sobbing notes =
of song.
Shapes, changing, mysterious, wonderful, rushe=
d up
to meet me, and bore me down till I seemed to stand upon another earth.
"Who comes?" cried a great Voice.
"Harmachis," answered the Shapes, th=
at
changed continually. "Harmachis who hath been summoned from the earth =
to
look upon the face of Her that Was and Is and Shall Be. Harmachis, Child of
Earth!"
"Throw back the Gates and open wide the
Doors!" pealed the awful Voice. "Throw back the Gates and open wi=
de
the Doors; seal up his lips in silence, lest his voice jar upon the harmoni=
es
of Heaven, take away his sight lest he see that which may not be seen, and =
let
Harmachis, who hath been summoned, pass down the path that leads to the pla=
ce
of the Unchanging. Pass on, Child of Earth; but before thou goest, look up =
that
thou mayest learn how far thou art removed from Earth."
I looked up. Beyond the glory that shone about=
the
city was black night, and high on its bosom twinkled one tiny star.
"Behold the world that thou hast left,&qu=
ot;
said the Voice, "behold and tremble."
Then my lips and eyes were sealed with silence=
and
with darkness, so that I was dumb and blind. The Gates rolled back, the Doo=
rs
swung wide, and I was swept into the city that is in the Place of Death. I =
was
swept swiftly I know not whither, till at length I stood upon my feet. Agai=
n the
great Voice pealed:
"Draw the veil of blackness from his eyes,
unseal the silence on his lips, that Harmachis, Child of Earth, may see, he=
ar,
and understand, and make adoration at the Shrine of Her that Was and Is and
Shall Be."
And my lips and eyes were touched once more, so
that my sight and speech came back.
Behold! I stood within a hall of blackest marb=
le,
so lofty that even in the rosy light scarce could my vision reach the great
groins of the roof. Music wailed about its spaces, and all adown its length=
stood
winged Spirits fashioned in living fire, and such was the brightness of the=
ir
forms that I could not look on them. In its centre was an altar, small and
square, and I stood before the empty altar. Then again the Voice cried:
"O Thou that hast been, art, and shalt be;
Thou who, having many names, art yet without a name; Measurer of Time;
Messenger of God; Guardian of the Worlds and the Races that dwell thereon;
Universal Mother born of Nothingness; Creatix uncreated; Living Splendour
without Form, Living Form without Substance; Servant of the Invisible; Chil=
d of
Law; Holder of the Scales and Sword of Fate; Vessel of Life, through whom a=
ll
Life flows, to whom it again is gathered; Recorder of Things Done; Executri=
x of
Decrees--Hear!
"Harmachis the Egyptian, who by Thy will =
hath
been summoned from the earth, waits before Thine Altar, with ears unstopped,
with eyes unsealed, and with an open heart. Hear and descend! Descend, O Ma=
ny-shaped!
Descend in Flame! Descend in Sound! Descend in Spirit! Hear and descend!&qu=
ot;
The Voice ceased and there was silence. Then
through the silence came a sound like the booming of the sea. It passed and
presently, moved thereto by I know not what, I raised my eyes from my hands
with which I had covered them, and saw a small dark cloud hanging over the
Altar in and out of which a fiery Serpent climbed.
Then all the Spirits clad in light fell upon t=
he
marble floor, and with a loud voice adored; but what they said I could not
understand. Behold! the dark cloud came down and rested on the Altar, the
Serpent of fire stretched itself towards me, touched me on the forehead with
its forky tongue and was gone. From within the cloud a Voice sweet and low =
and clear
spoke in heavenly accents:
"Depart, ye Ministers, leave Me with my s=
on
whom I have summoned."
Then like arrows rushing from a bow the flame-=
clad
Spirits leapt from the ground and sped away.
"O Harmachis," said the Voice, "=
;be
not afraid, I am She whom thou dost know as Isis of the Egyptians; but what
else I am strive not thou to learn, it is beyond thy strength. For I am all
things, Life is my spirit, and Nature is my raiment. I am the laughter of t=
he
babe, I am the maiden's love, I am the mother's kiss. I am the Child and
Servant of the Invisible that is God, that is Law, that is Fate--though mys=
elf
I be not God and Fate and Law. When winds blow and oceans roar upon the fac=
e of
the Earth thou hearest my voice; when thou gazest on the starry firmament t=
hou
seest my countenance; when the spring blooms out in flowers, that is my smi=
le,
Harmachis. For I am Nature's self, and all her shapes are shapes of Me. I
breathe in all that breathes. I wax and wane in the changeful moon: I grow =
and
gather in the tides: I rise with the suns: I flash with the lightning and
thunder in the storms. Nothing is too great for the measure of my majesty,
nothing is so small that I cannot find a home therein. I am in thee and thou
art in Me, O Harmachis. That which bade thee be bade Me also be. Therefore,
though I am great and thou art little, have no fear. For we are bound toget=
her by
the common bond of life--that life which flows through suns and stars and
spaces, through Spirits and the souls of men, welding all Nature to a whole
that, changing ever, is yet eternally the same."
I bowed my head--I could not speak, for I was
afraid.
"Faithfully hast thou served Me, O my
son," went on the low sweet Voice; "greatly thou hast longed to be
brought face to face with Me here in Amenti; and greatly hast thou dared to
accomplish thy desire. For it is no small thing to cast off the tabernacle =
of
the Flesh and before the appointed time, if only for an hour, put on the
raiment of the Spirit. And greatly, O my servant and my son, have I, too,
desired to look on thee there where I am. For the Gods love those who love =
them,
but with a wider and deeper love, and under One who is as far from Me as I =
am
from thee, mortal, I am a God of Gods. Therefore I have caused thee to be b=
rought
hither, Harmachis; and therefore I speak to thee, my son, and bid thee comm=
une
with Me now face to face, as thou didst commune that night upon the temple
towers of Abouthis. For I was there with thee, Harmachis, as I was in ten
thousand other worlds. It was I, O Harmachis, who laid the lotus in thy han=
d,
giving thee the sign which thou didst seek. For thou art of the kingly bloo=
d of
my children who served Me from age to age. And if thou dost not fail thou s=
halt
sit upon that kingly throne and restore my ancient worship in its purity, a=
nd
sweep my temples from their defilements. But if thou dost fail, then shall =
the eternal
Spirit Isis become but a memory in Egypt."
The Voice paused; and, gathering up my strengt=
h,
at length I spoke aloud:
"Tell me, O Holy," I said, "sha=
ll I
then fail?"
"Ask Me not," answered the Voice,
"that which it is not lawful that I should answer thee. Perchance I can
read that which shall befall thee, perchance it doth not please Me so to re=
ad.
What can it profit the Divine, that hath all time wherein to await the issu=
es,
to be eager to look upon the blossom that is not blown, but which, lying a =
seed
in the bosom of the earth, shall blow in its season? Know, Harmachis, that =
I do
not shape the Future; the Future is to thee and not to Me; for it is born of
Law and of the rule ordained of the Invisible. Yet thou art free to act the=
rein,
and thou shalt win or thou shalt fail according to thy strength and the mea=
sure
of thy heart's purity. Thine be the burden, Harmachis, as thine in the event
shall be the glory or the shame. Little do I reck of the issue, I who am but
the Minister of what is written. Now hear me: I will always be with thee, my
son, for my love once given can never be taken away, though by sin it may s=
eem
lost to thee. Remember then this: if thou dost triumph, thy guerdon shall be
great; if thou dost fail, heavy indeed shall be thy punishment both in the
flesh and in the land that thou callest Amenti. Yet this for thy comfort: s=
hame
and agony shall not be eternal. For however deep the fall from righteousnes=
s,
if but repentance holds the heart, there is a path--a stony and a cruel
path--whereby the height may be climbed again. Let it not be thy lot to fol=
low
it, Harmachis!
"And now, because thou hast loved Me, my =
son,
and, wandering through the maze of fable, wherein men lose themselves upon =
the
earth, mistaking the substance for the Spirit, and the Altar for the God, h=
ast
yet grasped a clue of Truth the Many-faced; and because I love thee and loo=
k on
to the day that, perchance, shall come when thou shalt dwell blessed in my =
light
and in the doing of my tasks: because of this, I say, it shall be given to
thee, O Harmachis, to hear the Word whereby I may be summoned from the
Uttermost, by one who hath communed with Me, and to look upon the face of
Isis--even into the eyes of the Messenger, and not die the death.
"Behold!"
The sweet Voice ceased; the dark cloud upon the
altar changed and changed--it grew white, it shone, and seemed at length to
take the shrouded shape of a woman. Then the golden Snake crept from its he=
art once
more, and, like a living diadem, twined itself about the cloudy brows.
Now suddenly a Voice called aloud the awful Wo=
rd,
then the vapours burst and melted, and with my eyes I saw that Glory, at the
very thought of which my spirit faints. But what I saw it is not lawful to
utter. For, though I have been bidden to write what I have written of this
matter, perchance that a record may remain, thereon I have been warned--ay,
even now, after these many years. I saw, and what I saw cannot be imagined;=
for
there are Glories and there are Shapes which are beyond the reach of man's
imagination. I saw--then, with the echo of that Word, and the memory of that
sight stamped for ever on my heart, my spirit failed me, and I sank down be=
fore
the Glory.
And, as I fell, it seemed that the great hall
burst open and crumbled into flakes of fire round me. Then a great wind ble=
w:
there was a sound as the sound of Worlds rushing down the flood of Time--an=
d I
knew no more!
Once again I woke--to find myself stretched at
length upon the stone flooring of the Holy Place of Isis that is at Abouthi=
s.
By me stood the old Priest of the Mysteries, and in his hand was a lamp. He
bent over me, and gazed earnestly upon my face.
"It is day--the day of thy new birth, and
thou hast lived to see it, Harmachis!" he said at length. "I give
thanks. Arise, royal Harmachis--nay, tell me naught of that which has befal=
len
thee. Arise, beloved of the Holy Mother. Come forth, thou who hast passed t=
he
fire and learned what lies behind the darkness--come forth, O newly-born!&q=
uot;
I rose and, walking faintly, went with him, an=
d,
passing out of the darkness of the Shrines filled with thought and wonder, =
came
once more into the pure light of the morning. And then I went to my own cha=
mber
and slept; nor did any dreams come to trouble me. But no man--not even my
father--asked me aught of what I saw upon that dread night, or after what
fashion I had communed with the Goddess.
After these things which have been written, I
applied myself for a space to the worship of the Mother Isis, and to the
further study of the outward forms of those mysteries to which I now held t=
he
key. Moreover, I was instructed in matters politic, for many great men of o=
ur
following came secretly to see me from all quarters of Egypt, and told me m=
uch of
the hatred of the people towards Cleopatra, the Queen, and of other things.=
At
last the hour drew nigh; it was three months and ten days from the night wh=
en,
for a while, I left the flesh, and yet living with our life, was gathered to
the breast of Isis, on which it was agreed that with due and customary rite=
s,
although in utter secrecy, I should be called to the throne of the Upper and
the Lower Land. So it came about that, as the solemn time drew nigh, great =
men
of the party of Egypt gathered to the number of thirty-seven from every nom=
e,
and each great city of their nome, meeting together at Abouthis. They came =
in every
guise--some as priests, some as pilgrims to the Shrine, and some as beggars.
Among them was my uncle, Sepa, who, though he clad himself as a travelling
doctor, had much ado to keep his loud voice from betraying him. Indeed, I
myself knew him by it, meeting him as I walked in thought upon the banks of=
the
canal, although it was then dusk and the great cape, which, after the fashi=
on
of such doctors, he had thrown about his head, half hid his face.
"A pest on thee!" he cried, when I
greeted him by his name. "Cannot a man cease to be himself for a single
hour? Didst thou but know the pains that it has cost me to learn to play th=
is
part--and now thou readest who I am even in the dark!"
And then, still talking in his loud voice, he =
told
me how he had travelled hither on foot, the better to escape the spies who =
ply
to and fro upon the river. But he said he should return by the water, or ta=
ke another
guise; for since he had come as a doctor he had been forced to play a docto=
r's
part, knowing but little of the arts of medicine; and, as he greatly feared,
there were many between Annu and Abouthis who had suffered from it.[*] And =
he
laughed loudly and embraced me, forgetting his part. For he was too whole at
heart to be an actor and other than himself, and would have entered Abouthis
with me holding my hand, had I not chid him for his folly.
[=
*] In
Ancient Egypt an unskilful or negligent physician was liable to very heavy penalties.--Edi=
tor.
At length all were gathered.
It was night, and the gates of the temple were
shut. None were left within them, except the thirty-seven; my father, the H=
igh
Priest Amenemhat; that aged priest who had led me to the Shrine of Isis; th=
e old
wife, Atoua, who, according to ancient custom, was to prepare me for the
anointing; and some five other priests, sworn to secrecy by that oath which
none may break. They gathered in the second hall of the great temple; but I
remained alone, clad in my white robe, in the passage where are the names of
six-and-seventy ancient Kings, who were before the day of the divine Sethi.
There I rested in darkness, till at length my father, Amenemhat, came, bear=
ing
a lamp, and, bowing low before me, led me by the hand forth into the great
hall. Here and there, between its mighty pillars, lights were burning that
dimly showed the sculptured images upon the walls, and dimly fell upon the =
long
line of the seven-and-thirty Lords, Priests, and Princes, who, seated upon
carven chairs, awaited my coming in silence. Before them, facing away from =
the
seven Sanctuaries, a throne was set, around which stood the priests holding=
the
sacred images and banners. As I came into the dim and holy place, the
Dignitaries rose, and bowed before me, speaking no word; while my father le=
d me
to the steps of the throne, and in a low voice bade me stand before it.
Then he spoke:
"Lords, Priests, and Princes of the ancie=
nt
orders of the land of Khem--Nobles from the Upper and the Lower Country, ha=
ve
gathered in answer to my summons, hear me: I present to you, with such scan=
t formality
as the occasion can afford, the Prince Harmachis, by right and true descent=
of
blood the descendant and heir of the ancient Pharaohs of our most unhappy l=
and.
He is priest of the inmost circle of the Mysteries of the Divine Isis, Mast=
er
of the Mysteries--Hereditary Priest of the Pyramids, which are by Memphis,
Instructed in the Solemn Rites of the Holy Osiris. Is there any among you w=
ho
has aught to urge against the true line of his blood?"
He paused, and my uncle Sepa, rising from his
chair, spoke: "We have made examination of the records and there is no=
ne,
O Amenemhat. He is of the Royal blood, his descent is true."
"Is there any among you," went on my
father, "who can deny that this royal Harmachis, by sanction of the ve=
ry
Gods, has been gathered to Isis, been shown the way of the Osiris, been
admitted to be the Hereditary High Priest of the Pyramids which are by Memp=
his,
and of the Temples of the Pyramids?"
Then that old priest rose who had been my guid=
e in
the Sanctuary of the Mother and made answer: "There is none; O Amenemh=
at;
I know these things of my own knowledge."
Once more my father spoke: "Is there any
among you who has aught to urge against this royal Harmachis, in that by
wickedness of heart or life, by uncleanliness or falsity, it is not fit or =
meet
that we should crown him Lord of all the Lands?"
Then an aged Prince of Memphis arose and made
answer:
"We have inquired of these matters: there=
is
none, O Amenemhat."
"It is well," said my father; "=
then
naught is wanting in the Prince Harmachis, seed of Nekt-nebf, the Osirian. =
Let
the woman Atoua stand forth and tell this company those things that came to
pass when, at the hour of her death, she who was my wife prophesied over th=
is
Prince, being filled with the Spirit of the Hathors."
Thereon old Atoua crept forward from the shado=
w of
the columns, and earnestly told those things that have been written.
"Ye have heard," said my father:
"do you believe that the woman who was my wife spake with the Divine
voice?"
"We do," they answered.
Now my uncle Sepa rose and spoke:
"Royal Harmachis, thou hast heard. Know n=
ow
that we are gathered here to crown thee King of the Upper and the Lower
Lands--thy holy father, Amenemhat, renouncing all his right on thy behalf. =
We
are met, not, indeed, in that pomp and ceremony which is due to the
occasion--for what we do must be done in secret, lest our lives, and the ca=
use
that is more dear to us than life, should pay the forfeit--but yet with such
dignity and observance of the ancient rites as our circumstance may command=
. Learn,
now, how this matter hangs, and if, after learning, thy mind consents there=
to,
then mount thy throne, O Pharaoh--and swear the oath!
"Long has Khemi groaned beneath the mailed
heel of the Greek, and trembled at the shadow of the Roman's spear; long has
the ancient worship of its Gods been desecrated, and its people crushed wit=
h oppression.
But we believe that the hour of deliverance is at hand, and with the solemn
voice of Egypt and by the ancient Gods of Egypt, to whose cause thou art of=
all
men bound, we call upon thee, Prince, to be the sword of our deliverance.
Hearken! Twenty thousand good and leal men are sworn to wait upon thy word,=
and
at thy signal to rise as one, to put the Grecian to the sword, and with the=
ir
blood and substance to build thee a throne set more surely on the soil of K=
hem
than are its ancient pyramids--such a throne as shall even roll the Roman
legions back. And for the signal, it shall be the death of that bold harlot=
, Cleopatra.
Thou must compass her death, Harmachis, in such fashion as shall be shown to
thee, and with her blood anoint the Royal throne of Egypt.
"Canst thou refuse, O our Hope? Doth not =
the
holy love of country swell within thy heart? Canst thou dash the cup of Fre=
edom
from thy lips and bear to drink the bitter draught of slaves? The emprise is
great; maybe it shall fail, and thou with thy life, as we with ours, shalt =
pay
the price of our endeavour. But what of it, Harmachis? Is life, then, so sw=
eet?
Are we so softly cushioned on the stony bed of earth? Is bitterness and sor=
row
in its sum so small and scant a thing? Do we here breathe so divine an air =
that
we should fear to face the passage of our breath? What have we here but hope
and memory? What see we here but shadows? Shall we then fear to pass pure-h=
anded
where Fulfilment is and memory is lost in its own source, and shadows die in
the light which cast them? O Harmachis, that man alone is truly blest who
crowns his life with Fame's most splendid wreath. For, since to all the Bro=
od
of Earth Death hands his poppy-flowers, he indeed is happy to whom there is=
occasion
given to weave them in a crown of glory. And how can a man die better than =
in a
great endeavour to strike the gyves from his Country's limbs so that she ag=
ain
may stand in the face of Heaven and raise the shrill shout of Freedom, and,
clad once more in a panoply of strength, trample under foot the fetters of =
her
servitude, defying the tyrant nations of the earth to set their seal upon h=
er
brow?
"Khem calls thee, Harmachis. Come then, t=
hou
Deliverer; leap like Horus from the firmament, break her chains, scatter her
foes, and rule a Pharaoh on Pharaoh's Throne----"
"Enough, enough!" I cried, while the
long murmur of applause swept about the columns and up the massy walls.
"Enough; is there any need to adjure me thus? Had I a hundred lives, w=
ould
I not most gladly lay them down for Egypt?"
"Well said, well said!" answered Sep=
a.
"Now go forth with the woman yonder, that she may make thy hands clean
before they touch the sacred emblems, and anoint thy brow before it is
encircled of the diadem."
And so I went into a chamber apart with the old
wife, Atoua. There, muttering prayers, she poured pure water over my hands =
into
a ewer of gold, and having dipped a fine cloth into oil wiped my brow with =
it.
"O happy Egypt!" she said; "O h=
appy
Prince, that art come to rule in Egypt! O Royal youth!--too Royal to be a
priest--so shall many a fair woman think; but, perchance, for thee they will
relax the priestly rule, else how shall the race of Pharaoh be carried on? O
happy I, who dandled thee and gave my flesh and blood to save thee! O royal=
and
beautiful Harmachis, born for splendour, happiness, and love!"
"Cease, cease," I said, for her talk
jarred upon me; "call me not happy till thou knowest my end, and speak=
not
to me of love, for with love comes sorrow, and mine is another and a higher
way."
"Ay, ay, so thou sayest--and joy, too, th=
at
comes with love! Never talk lightly of love, my King, for it brought thee h=
ere!
La! la! but it is always the way--'The goose on the wing laughs at crocodil=
es,'
so goes their saying down at Alexandria; 'but when the goose is asleep on t=
he water,
it is the crocodiles that laugh.' Not but what women are pretty crocodiles.=
Men
worship the crocodiles at Anthribis--Crocodilopolis they call it now, don't
they?--but they worship women all the world over! La! how my tongue runs on,
and thou about to be crowned Pharaoh! Did I not prophesy it to thee? Well, =
thou
art clean, Lord of the Double Crown. Go forth!"
So I went from the chamber with the old wife's
foolish talk ringing in my ears, though of a truth her folly had ever a gra=
in
of wit in it.
As I came, the Dignitaries rose once more and
bowed before me. Then my father, without delay, drew near me, and placed in=
my
hands a golden image of the divine Ma, the Goddess of Truth, and golden ima=
ges
of the arks of the God Amen-Ra, of the divine Mout, and the divine Khons, a=
nd spoke
solemnly:
"Thou swearest by the living majesty of M=
a,
by the majesty of Amen-Ra, of Mout, and of Khons?"
"I swear," I said.
"Thou swearest by the holy land of Khem, =
by
Sihor's flood, by the Temples of the Gods and the eternal Pyramids?"
"I swear."
"Remembering thy hideous doom if thou
shouldst fail therein, thou swearest that thou wilt in all things govern Eg=
ypt
according to its ancient laws, that thou wilt preserve the worship of its G=
ods,
that thou wilt do equal justice, that thou wilt not oppress, that thou wilt=
not
betray, that thou wilt make no alliance with the Roman or the Greek, that t=
hou
wilt cast out the foreign Idols, that thou wilt devote thy life to the libe=
rty
of the land of Khem?"
"I swear."
"It is well. Mount, then, the throne, tha=
t in
the presence of these thy subjects, I may name thee Pharaoh."
I mounted upon the throne, of which the footst=
ool
is a Sphinx, and the canopy the overshadowing wings of Ma. Then Amenemhat d=
rew
nigh once again and placed the Pshent upon my brow, and on my head the Doub=
le Crown,
and the Royal Robe about my shoulders, and in my hands the Sceptre and the
Scourge.
"Royal Harmachis," he cried, "by
these outward signs and tokens, I, the High Priest of the Temple of Ra-Men-=
Ma
at Abouthis, crown thee Pharaoh of the Upper and Lower Land. Reign and pros=
per,
O Hope of Khemi!"
"Reign and prosper, Pharaoh!" echoed=
the
Dignitaries, bowing down before me.
Then, one by one, they swore allegiance, till =
all
had sworn. And, having sworn, my father took me by the hand; he led me in
solemn procession into each of the seven Sanctuaries that are in this Templ=
e of
Ra-Men-Ma, and in each I made offerings, swung incense, and officiated as
priest. Clad in the Royal robes I made offerings in the Shrine of Horus, in=
the
Shrine of Isis, in the Shrine of Osiris, in the Shrine of Amen-Ra, in the
Shrine of Horemku, in the Shrine of Ptah, till at length I reached the Shri=
ne
of the King's Chamber.
Here they made their offering to me, as the Di=
vine
Pharaoh, and left me very weary--but a King.
[Here the first and smallest of the papyrus ro=
lls
comes to an end.]
Now the long days of preparation had passed, a=
nd
the time was at hand. I was initiated, and I was crowned; so that although =
the
common folk knew me not, or knew me only as Priest of Isis, there were in E=
gypt
thousands who at heart bowed down to me as Pharaoh. The hour was at hand, a=
nd
my soul went forth to meet it. For I longed to overthrow the foreigner, to =
set
Egypt free, to mount the throne that was my heritage, and cleanse the templ=
es
of my Gods. I was fain for the struggle, and I never doubted of its end. I
looked into the mirror, and saw triumph written on my brows. The future
stretched a path of glory from my feet--ay, glittering with glory like Siho=
r in
the sun. I communed with my Mother Isis; I sat within my chamber and took
counsel with my heart; I planned new temples; I revolved great laws that I
would put forth for my people's weal; and in my ears rang the shouts of
exultation which should greet victorious Pharaoh on his throne.
But still I tarried a little while at Abouthis,
and, having been commanded to do so, let my hair, that had been shorn, grow
again long and black as the raven's wing, instructing myself meanwhile in a=
ll
manly exercises and feats of arms. Also, for a purpose which shall be seen,=
I perfected
myself in the magic art of the Egyptians, and in the reading of the stars, =
in
which things, indeed, I already have great skill.
Now, this was the plan that had been built up.=
My
uncle Sepa had, for a while, left the Temple of Annu, giving out that his
health had failed him. Thence he had moved down to a house in Alexandria, to
gather strength, as he said, from the breath of the sea, and also to learn =
for himself
the wonders of the great Museum and the glory of Cleopatra's Court. There it
was planned that I should join him, for there, at Alexandria, the egg of the
plot was hatching. Accordingly, when at last the summons came, all things b=
eing
prepared, I made ready for the journey, and passed into my father's chamber=
to
receive his blessing before I went. There sat the old man, as once before he
sat when he had rebuked me because I went out to slay the lion, his long wh=
ite
beard resting on the table of stone and sacred writings in his hand. When I=
came
in he rose from his seat and would have knelt before me, crying "Hail,
Pharaoh!" but I caught him by the hand.
"It is not meet, my father," I said.=
"It is meet," he answered, "it =
is
meet that I should bow before my King; but be it as thou wilt. And so thou
goest, Harmachis; my blessings go with thee, O my son! And may Those whom I
serve grant to me that my old eyes may, indeed, behold thee on the throne! I
have searched long, striving, Harmachis, to read the future that shall be; =
but
I can learn naught by all my wisdom. It is hid from me, and at times my hea=
rt
fails. But hear this, there is danger in thy path, and it comes in the form=
of Woman.
I have known it long, and therefore thou hast been called to the worship of=
the
heavenly Isis, who bids her votaries put away the thought of woman till such
time as she shall think well to slacken the rule. Oh, my son, I would that =
thou
wert not so strong and fair--stronger and fairer, indeed, than any man in
Egypt, as a King should be--for in that strength and beauty may lie a cause=
of
stumbling. Beware, then, of those witches of Alexandria, lest, like a worm,
some one of them creep into my heart and eat its secret out."
"Have no fear, my father," I answere=
d,
frowning, "my thought is set on other things than red lips and smiling
eyes."
"It is good," he answered; "so =
may
it befall. And now farewell. When next we meet, may it be in that happy hou=
r when,
with all the priests of the Upper Land, I move down from Abouthis to do my
homage to Pharaoh on his throne."
So I embraced him, and went. Alas! I little
thought how we should meet again.
Thus it came about that once more I passed down
the Nile travelling as a man of no estate. And to such as were curious abou=
t me
it was given out that I was the adopted son of the High Priest of Abouthis,
having been brought up to the priesthood, and that I had at the last refused
the service of the Gods, and chosen to go to Alexandria, to seek my fortune=
. For,
be it remembered, I was still held to be the grandson of the old wife, Atou=
a,
by all those who did not know the truth.
On the tenth night, sailing with the wind, we
reached the mighty city of Alexandria, the city of a thousand lights. Above
them all towered the white Pharos, that wonder of the world, from the crown=
of
which a light like the light of the sun blazed out across the waters of the
harbour to guide mariners on their way across the sea. The vessel having be=
en cautiously
made fast to the quay, for it was night, I disembarked and stood wondering =
at
the vast mass of houses, and confused by the clamour of many tongues. For h=
ere
all peoples seemed to be gathered together, each speaking after the fashion=
of
his own land. And as I stood a young man came and touched me on the shoulde=
r,
asking me if I was from Abouthis and named Harmachis. I said "Yea.&quo=
t;
Then, bending over me, he whispered the secret pass-word into my ear, and,
beckoning to two slaves, bade them bring my baggage from the ship. This they
did, fighting their way through the crowd of porters who were clamouring for
hire. Then I followed him down the quay, which was bordered with drinking-p=
laces,
where all sorts of men were gathered, tippling wine and watching the dancin=
g of
women, some of whom were but scantily arrayed, and some not arrayed at all.=
And so we went through the lamp-lit houses til=
l at
last we reached the shore of the great harbour, and turned to the right alo=
ng a
wide way paved with granite and bordered by strong houses, having cloisters=
in front
of them, the like of which I had never seen. Turning once more to the right=
we
came to a quieter portion of the city, where, except for parties of strolli=
ng
revellers, the streets were still. Presently my guide halted at a house bui=
lt
of white stone. We passed in, and, crossing a small courtyard, entered a
chamber where there was a light. And here, at last, I found my uncle Sepa, =
most
glad to see me safe.
When I had washed and eaten, he told me that a=
ll
things went well, and that as yet there was no thought of evil at the Court.
Further, he said, it having come to the ears of the Queen that the Priest of
Annu was sojourning at Alexandria, she sent for him and closely questioned =
him--not
as to any plot, for of that she never thought, but as to the rumour which h=
ad
reached her, that there was treasure hid in the Great Pyramid which is by A=
nnu.
For, being ever wasteful, she was ever in want of money, and had bethought =
her
of opening the Pyramid. But he laughed at her, telling her the Pyramid was =
the
burying-place of the divine Khufu, and that he knew nothing of its secrets.
Then she was angered, and swore that so surely as she ruled in Egypt she wo=
uld
tear it down, stone by stone, and discover the secret at its heart. Again he
laughed, and, in the words of the proverb which they have at Alexandria, to=
ld
her that "Mountains live longer than Kings." Thereon she smiled at
his ready answer, and let him go. Also my uncle Sepa told me that on the mo=
rrow
I should see this Cleopatra. For it was her birthday (as, indeed, it was al=
so
mine), and, dressed in the robes of the Holy Isis, she would pass in state =
from
her palace on the Lochias to the Serapeum to offer a sacrifice at the Shrin=
e of
the false God who sits in the Temple. And he said that thereafter the fashi=
on
by which I should gain entrance to the household of the Queen should be
contrived.
Then, being very weary, I went to rest, but co=
uld
sleep little for the strangeness of the place, the noises in the streets, a=
nd
the thought of the morrow. While it was yet dark, I rose, climbed the stair=
to
the roof of the house, and waited. Presently, the sun's rays shot out like =
arrows,
and lit upon the white wonder of the marble Pharos, whose light instantly s=
ank
and died, as though, indeed, the sun had killed it. Now the rays fell upon =
the
palaces of the Lochias where Cleopatra lay, and lit them up till they flamed
like a jewel set on the dark, cool bosom of the sea. Away the light flew,
kissing the Soma's sacred dome, beneath which Alexander sleeps, touching the
high tops of a thousand palaces and temples; past the porticoes of the great
museum that loomed near at hand, striking the lofty Shrine, where, carved of
ivory, is the image of the false God Serapis, and at last seeming to lose
itself in the vast and gloomy Necropolis. Then, as the dawn gathered into d=
ay,
the flood of brightness, overbrimming the bowl of night, flowed into the lo=
wer
lands and streets, and showed Alexandria red in the sunrise as the mantle o=
f a
king, and shaped as a mantle. The Etesian wind came up from the north, and
swept away the vapour from the harbours, so that I saw their blue waters
rocking a thousand ships. I saw, too, that mighty mole the Heptastadium; I =
saw
the hundreds of streets, the countless houses, the innumerable wealth and
splendour of Alexandria set like a queen between lake Mareotis and the ocea=
n,
and dominating both, and I was filled with wonder. This, then, was one city=
in
my heritage of lands and cities! Well, it was worth the grasping. And having
looked my full and fed my heart, as it were, with the sight of splendour, I
communed with the Holy Isis and came down from the roof.
In the chamber beneath was my uncle Sepa. I to=
ld
him that I had been watching the sun rise over the city of Alexandria.
"So!" he said, looking at me from
beneath his shaggy eyebrows; "and what thinkest thou of Alexandria?&qu=
ot;
"I think it is like some city of the
Gods," I answered.
"Ay!" he replied fiercely, "a c=
ity
of the infernal Gods--a sink of corruption, a bubbling well of iniquity, a =
home
of false faith springing from false hearts. I would that not one stone of it
was left upon another stone, and that its wealth lay deep beneath yonder
waters! I would that the gulls were screaming across its site, and that the
wind, untainted by a Grecian breath, swept through its ruins from the ocean=
to Mareotis!
O royal Harmachis, let not the luxury and beauty of Alexandria poison thy
sense; for in their deadly air, Faith perishes, and Religion cannot spread =
her
heavenly wings. When the hour comes for thee to rule, Harmachis, cast down =
this
accursed city and, as thy fathers did, set up thy throne in the white walls=
of
Memphis. For I tell thee that, for Egypt, Alexandria is but a splendid gate=
of
ruin, and, while it endures, all nations of the earth shall march through i=
t,
to the plunder of the land, and all false Faiths shall nestle in it and bre=
ed
the overthrow of Egypt's Gods."
I made no answer, for there was truth in his
words. And yet to me the city seemed very fair to look on. After we had eat=
en,
my uncle told me it was now time to set out to view the march of Cleopatra,=
as
she went in triumph to the Shrine of Serapis. For although she would not pa=
ss till
within two hours of the midday, yet these people of Alexandria have so grea=
t a
love of shows and idling that had we not presently set forth, by no means c=
ould
we have come through the press of the multitudes who were already gathering
along the highways where the Queen must ride. So we went out to take our pl=
aces
upon a stand, built of timber, that had been set up at the side of the great
road which pierces through the city, to the Canopic Gate. For my uncle had
already purchased a right to enter there, and that dearly.
We won our way with much struggle through the
great crowds that were already gathered in the streets till we reached the
scaffolding of timber, which was roofed in with an awning and gaily hung wi=
th
scarlet cloths. Here we seated ourselves upon a bench and waited for some
hours, watching the multitude press past shouting, singing, and talking lou=
dly in
many tongues. At length soldiers came to clear the road, clad, after the Ro=
man
fashion, in breast-plates of chain-armour. After them marched heralds enjoi=
ning
silence (at which the population sung and shouted all the more loudly), and
crying that Cleopatra, the Queen, was coming. Then followed a thousand Cili=
cian
skirmishers, a thousand Thracians, a thousand Macedonians, and a thousand
Gauls, each armed after the fashion of their country. Then passed five hund=
red
men of those who are called the Fenced Horsemen, for both men and horses we=
re
altogether covered with mail. Next came youths and maidens sumptuously drap=
ed
and wearing golden crowns, and with them images symbolising Day and Night,
Morning and Noon, the Heavens and the Earth. After these walked many fair
women, pouring perfumes on the road, and others scattering blooming flowers=
. Now
there rose a great shout of "Cleopatra! Cleopatra!" and I held my=
breath
and bent forward to see her who dared to put on the robes of Isis.
But at that moment the multitude so gathered a=
nd
thickened in front of where I was that I could no longer clearly see. So in=
my
eagerness I leapt over the barrier of the scaffolding, and, being very stro=
ng, pushed
my way through the crowd till I reached the foremost rank. And as I did so,
Nubian slaves armed with thick staves and crowned with ivy-leaves ran up,
striking the people. One man I noted more especially, for he was a giant, a=
nd,
being strong, was insolent beyond measure, smiting the people without cause,
as, indeed, is the wont of low persons set in authority. For a woman stood =
near
to me, an Egyptian by her face, bearing a child in her arms, whom the man,
seeing that she was weak, struck on the head with his rod so that she fell
prone, and the people murmured. But at the sight my blood rushed of a sudden
through my veins and drowned my reason. I held in my hand a staff of olive-=
wood
from Cyprus, and as the black brute laughed at the sight of the stricken wo=
man
and her babe rolling on the ground, I swung the staff aloft and smote. So
shrewdly did I strike, that the tough rod split upon the giant's shoulders =
and
the blood spurted forth, staining his trailing leaves of ivy.
Then, with a shriek of pain and fury--for those
who smite love not that they be smitten--he turned and sprang at me! And all
the people round gave back, save only the woman who could not rise, leaving=
us
two in a ring as it were. On he came with a rush, and, as he came, being now
mad, I smote him with my clenched fist between the eyes, having nothing els=
e with
which to smite, and he staggered like an ox beneath the first blow of the
priest's axe. Then the people shouted, for they love to see a fight, and the
man was known to them as a gladiator victorious in the games. Gathering up =
his
strength, the knave came on with an oath, and, whirling his heavy staff on
high, struck me in such a fashion that, had I not avoided the blow by
nimbleness, I had surely been slain. But, as it chanced, the staff hit upon=
the
ground, and so heavily that it flew in fragments. Thereon the multitude sho=
uted
again, and the great man, blind with fury, rushed at me to smite me down. B=
ut
with a cry I sprang straight at his throat--for he was so heavy a man that I
knew I could not hope to throw him by strength--ay, and gripped it. There I
clung, though his fists battered me like bludgeons, driving my thumbs into =
his throat.
Round and round we turned, till at length he flung himself to the earth,
trusting thus to shake me off. But I held on fast as we rolled over and ove=
r on
the ground, till at last he grew faint for want of breath. Then I, being
uppermost, drove my knee down upon his chest, and, as I believe, should thus
have slain him in my rage had not my uncle, and others there gathered, fall=
en
upon me and dragged me from him.
And meanwhile, though I know it not, the chari=
ot
in which the Queen sat, with elephants going before and lions led after it,=
had
reached the spot, and had been halted because of the tumult. I looked up, a=
nd thus
torn, panting, my white garments stained with the blood that had rushed from
the mouth and nostrils of the mighty Nubian, I for the first time saw Cleop=
atra
face to face. Her chariot was all of gold, and drawn by milk-white steeds. =
She
sat in it with two fair girls, clad in Greek attire, standing one on either
side, fanning her with glittering fans. On her head was the covering of Isi=
s,
the golden horns between which rested the moon's round disk and the emblem =
of
Osiris' throne, with the uræus twined around. Beneath this covering was the
vulture cap of gold, the blue enamelled wings and the vulture head with gem=
my
eyes, under which her long dark tresses flowed towards her feet. About her
rounded neck was a broad collar of gold studded with emeralds and coral. Ro=
und her
arms and wrists were bracelets of gold studded with emeralds and coral, and=
in
one hand she held the holy cross of Life fashioned of crystal, and in the o=
ther
the golden rod of royalty. Her breast was bare, but under it was a garment =
that
glistened like the scaly covering of a snake, everywhere sewn with gems.
Beneath this robe was a skirt of golden cloth, half hidden by a scarf of the
broidered silk of Cos, falling in folds to the sandals that, fastened with
great pearls, adorned her white and tiny feet.
All this I discerned at a glance, as it were. =
Then
I looked upon the face--that face which seduced Cæsar, ruined Egypt, and was
doomed to give Octavian the sceptre of the world. I looked upon the flawles=
s Grecian
features, the rounded chin, the full, rich lips, the chiselled nostrils, and
the ears fashioned like delicate shells. I saw the forehead, low, broad, and
lovely, the crisped, dark hair falling in heavy waves that sparkled in the =
sun,
the arched eyebrows, and the long, bent lashes. There before me was the
grandeur of her Imperial shape. There burnt the wonderful eyes, hued like t=
he
Cyprian violet--eyes that seemed to sleep and brood on secret things as nig=
ht
broods upon the desert, and yet as the night to shift, change, and be illum=
ined
by gleams of sudden splendour born within their starry depths. All those wo=
nders
I saw, though I have small skill in telling them. But even then I knew that=
it
was not in these charms alone that the might of Cleopatra's beauty lay. It =
was
rather in a glory and a radiance cast through the fleshly covering from the
fierce soul within. For she was a Thing of Flame like unto which no woman h=
as
ever been or ever will be. Even when she brooded, the fire of her quick hea=
rt
shone through her. But when she woke, and the lightning leapt suddenly from=
her
eyes, and the passion-laden music of her speech chimed upon her lips, ah! t=
hen,
who can tell how Cleopatra seemed? For in her met all the splendours that h=
ave
been given to woman for her glory, and all the genius which man has won from
heaven. And with them dwelt every evil of that greater sort, which fearing
nothing, and making a mock of laws, has taken empires for its place of play,
and, smiling, watered the growth of its desires with the rich blood of men.=
In
her breast they gathered, together fashioning that Cleopatra whom no man may
draw, and yet whom no man, having seen, ever can forget. They fashioned her
grand as the Spirit of Storm, lovely as Lightning, cruel as Pestilence, yet
with a heart; and what she did is known. Woe to the world when such another=
comes
to curse it!
For a moment I met Cleopatra's eyes as she idly
bent herself to find the tumult's cause. At first they were sombre and dark=
, as
though they saw indeed, but the brain read nothing. Then they awoke, and th=
eir
very colour seemed to change as the colour of the sea changes when the wate=
r is
shaken. First, there was anger written in them; next an idle noting; then, =
when
she looked upon the huge bulk of the man whom I had overcome, and knew him =
for the
gladiator, something, perchance, that was not far from wonder. At the least
they softened, though, indeed, her face changed no whit. But he who would r=
ead
Cleopatra's mind had need to watch her eyes, for her countenance varied but=
a
little. Turning, she said some word to her guards. They came forward and le=
d me
to her, while all the multitude waited silently to see me slain.
I stood before her, my arms folded on my breas=
t.
Overcome though I was by the wonder of her loveliness I hated her in my hea=
rt,
this woman who dared to clothe herself in the dress of Isis, this usurper w=
ho
sat upon my throne, this wanton squandering the wealth of Egypt in chariots=
and
perfumes. When she had looked me over from head to the feet, she spake in a=
low
full voice and in the tongue of Khemi which she alone had learned of all the
Lagidæ:
"And who and what art thou, Egyptian--for
Egyptian I see thou art--who darest to smite my slave when I make progress
through my city?"
"I am Harmachis," I answered boldly.
"Harmachis, the astrologer, adopted son of the High Priest and Governo=
r of
Abouthis, who am come hither to seek my fortune. I smote thy slave, O Queen,
because for no fault he struck down the woman yonder. Ask of those who saw,
royal Egypt."
"Harmachis," she said, "the name
has a high sound--and thou hast a high look;" and then, speaking to a
soldier who had seen all, she bade him tell her what had come to pass. This=
he
did truthfully, being friendly disposed towards me because I had overcome t=
he
Nubian. Thereon she turned and spoke to the girl bearing the fan who stood
beside her--a woman with curling hair and shy dark eyes, very beautiful to =
see.
The girl answered somewhat. Then Cleopatra bade them bring the slave to her=
. So
they led forward the giant, who had found his breath again, and with him the
woman whom he had smitten down.
"Thou dog!" she said, in the same low
voice; "thou coward! who, being strong, didst smite down this woman, a=
nd,
being a coward, wast overthrown of this young man. See, thou, I will teach =
thee
manners. Henceforth, when thou smitest women it shall be with thy left arm.=
Ho,
guards, seize this black slave and strike off his right hand."
Her command given, she sank back in her golden
chariot, and again the cloud gathered in her eyes. But the guards seized the
giant, and, notwithstanding his cries and prayers for mercy, struck off his
hand with a sword upon the wood of the scaffolding and he was carried away =
groaning.
Then the procession moved on again. As it went the fair woman with the fan
turned her head, caught my eye, and smiled and nodded as though she rejoice=
d,
at which I wondered somewhat.
The people cheered also and made jests, saying
that I should soon practice astrology in the palace. But, as soon as we mig=
ht,
I and my uncle escaped, and made our way back to the house. All the while h=
e rated
me for my rashness; but when we came to the chamber of the house he embrace=
d me
and rejoiced greatly, because I had overthrown the giant with so little hur=
t to
myself.
That same night, while we sat at supper in the
house, there came a knock upon the door. It was opened, and a woman passed =
in
wrapped from head to foot in a large dark peplos or cloak in such fashion t=
hat
her face could not be clearly seen.
My uncle rose, and as he did so the woman utte=
red
the secret word.
"I am come, my father," she said in a
sweet clear voice, "though of a truth it was not easy to escape the re=
vels
at the palace yonder. But I told the Queen that the sun and the riot in the
streets had made me sick, and she let me go."
"It is well," he answered. "Unv=
eil
thyself; here thou art safe."
With a little sigh of weariness she unclasped =
the
peplos and let it slip from her, giving to my sight the face and form of th=
at
beauteous girl who had stood to fan Cleopatra in the chariot. For she was v=
ery
fair and pleasant to look upon, and her Grecian robes clung sweetly about h=
er supple
limbs and budding form. Her wayward hair, flowing in a hundred little curls,
was bound in with a golden fillet, and on her feet were sandals fastened wi=
th
studs of gold. Her cheeks blushed like a flower, and her dark soft eyes were
downcast, as though with modesty, but smiles and dimples trembled about her
lips.
My uncle frowned when his eyes fell upon her
dress.
"Why comest thou in this garb,
Charmion?" he asked sternly. "Is not the dress of thy mothers good
enough for thee? This is no time or place for woman's vanities. Thou art not
here to conquer, but to obey."
"Nay, be not wroth, my father," she
answered softly; "perchance thou knowest not that she whom I serve will
have none of our Egyptian dress; it is out of fashion. To wear it would have
been to court suspicion--also I came in haste." And as she spoke I saw
that all the while she watched me covertly through the long lashes which
fringed her modest eyes.
"Well, well," he said sharply, fixing
his keen glance upon her face, "doubtless thou speakest truth, Charmio=
n.
Be ever mindful of thy oath, girl, and of the cause to which thou art sworn=
. Be
not light-minded, and I charge thee forget the beauty with which thou hast =
been
cursed. For mark thou this, Charmion: fail us but one jot, and vengeance sh=
all
fall on thee--the vengeance of man and the vengeance of the Gods! To this s=
ervice,"
he continued, lashing himself to anger as he went on till his great voice r=
ang
in the narrow room, "thou hast been bred; to this end thou hast been
instructed and placed where thou art to gain the ear of that wicked wanton =
whom
thou seemest to serve. See thou forget it not; see that the luxury of yonder
Court does not corrupt thy purity and divert thy aim, Charmion," and h=
is
eyes flashed and his small form seemed to grow till it attained to
dignity--nay, almost to grandeur.
"Charmion," he went on, advancing to=
wards
her with outstretched finger, "I say that at times I do not trust thee.
But two nights gone I dreamed I saw thee standing in the desert. I saw thee
laugh and lift thy hand to heaven, and from it fell a rain of blood; then t=
he
sky sank down on the land of Khem and covered it. Whence came the dream, gi=
rl,
and what is its meaning? I have naught against thee as yet; but hearken! On=
the
moment that I have, though thou art of my kin, and I have loved thee--on th=
at
moment, I say, I will doom those delicate limbs, which thou lovest so much =
to
show, to the kite and the jackal, and the soul within thee to all the tortu=
res
of the Gods! Unburied shalt thou lie, and bodiless and accursed shalt thou
wander in Amenti!--ay, for ever and ever!"
He paused, for his sudden burst of passion had
spent itself. But by it, more clearly than before, I saw how deep a heart t=
his
man had beneath the cloak of his merriness and simplicity of mien, and how
fiercely the mind within him was set upon his aim. As for the girl, she shr=
ank
from him terrified, and, placing her hands before her sweet face, began to =
weep.
"Nay, speak not so, my father," she
said, between her sobs; "for what have I done? I know nothing of the e=
vil
wandering of thy dreams. I am no soothsayer that I should read dreams. Have=
I
not carried out all things according to thy desire? Have I not been ever
mindful of that dread oath?"--and she trembled. "Have I not played
the spy and told thee all? Have I not won the heart of the Queen, so that s=
he
loves me as a sister, refusing me nothing--ay, and the hearts of those about
her? Why dost thou affright me thus with thy words and threats?" and s=
he
wept afresh, looking even more beautiful in her sorrow than she was before.=
"Enough, enough," he answered;
"what I have said, I have said. Be warned, and affront our sight no mo=
re
with this wanton dress. Thinkest thou that we would feed our eyes upon those
rounded arms--we whose stake is Egypt and who are dedicated to the Gods of
Egypt? Girl, behold thy cousin and thy King!"
She ceased weeping, wiping her eyes with her
chiton, and I saw that they seemed but the softer for her tears.
"Methinks, most royal Harmachis, and belo=
ved
Cousin," she said, as she bent before me, "that we are already ma=
de
acquainted."
"Yea, Cousin," I answered, not witho=
ut
shamefacedness, for I had never before spoken to so fair a maid; "thou
wert in the chariot with Cleopatra this day when I struggled with the
Nubian?"
"Assuredly," she said, with a smile =
and
a sudden lighting of the eyes, "it was a gallant fight and gallantly d=
idst
thou overthrow that black brute. I saw the fray and, though I knew thee not=
, I
greatly feared for one so brave. But I paid him for my fright, for it was I=
who
put it into the mind of Cleopatra to bid the guards strike off his hand--no=
w, knowing
who thou art, I would I had said his head." And she looked up shooting=
a
glance at me and then smiled.
"Enough," put in my uncle Sepa,
"the time draws on. Tell thou thy mission, Charmion, and be gone."=
;
Then her manner changed; she folded her hands
meekly before her and spoke:
"Let Pharaoh hearken to his handmaiden. I=
am
the daughter of Pharaoh's uncle, the brother of his father, who is now long
dead, and therefore in my veins also flows the Royal blood of Egypt. Also I=
am
of the ancient Faith, and hate these Greeks, and to see thee set upon the
throne has been my dearest hope now for many years. To this end I, Charmion,
have put aside my rank and become serving-woman to Cleopatra, that I might =
cut
a notch in which thou couldst set thy foot when the hour came for thee to c=
limb
the throne. And, Pharaoh, the notch is cut.
"This then is our plot, royal Cousin. Thou
must gain an entrance to the Household and learn its ways and secrets, and,=
so
far as may be, suborn the eunuchs and captains, some of whom I have already
tempted. This done, and all things being prepared without, thou must slay
Cleopatra, and, aided by me with those whom I control, in the confusion that
shall ensue, throw wide the gates, and, admitting those of our party who ar=
e in
waiting, put such of the troops as remain faithful to the sword and seize t=
he
Bruchium. Which being finished, within two days thou shalt hold this fickle
Alexandria. At the same time those who are sworn to thee in every city of E=
gypt
shall rise in arms, and in ten days from the death of Cleopatra thou shalt
indeed be Pharaoh. This is the counsel which has been taken, and thou seest,
royal Cousin, that, though our uncle yonder thinks so ill of me, I have lea=
rned
my part--ay, and played it."
"I hear thee, Cousin," I answered,
marvelling that so young a woman--she had but twenty years--could weave so =
bold
a plot, for in its origin the scheme was hers. But in those days I little k=
new
Charmion. "Go on; how then shall I gain entrance to the palace of
Cleopatra?"
"Nay, Cousin, as things are it is easy. T=
hus:
Cleopatra loves to look upon a man, and--give me pardon--thy face and form =
are
fair. To-day she noted them, and twice she said she would she had asked whe=
re
that astrologer might be found, for she held that an astrologer who could w=
ellnigh
slay a Nubian gladiator with his bare hands, must indeed be a master of the
fortunate stars. I answered her that I would cause inquiry to be made. So
hearken, royal Harmachis. At midday Cleopatra sleeps in her inner hall which
looks over the gardens to the harbour. At that hour to-morrow, then, I will
meet thee at the gates of the palace, whither thou shalt come boldly asking=
for
the Lady Charmion. I will make appointment for thee with Cleopatra, so that=
she
shall see thee alone when she wakes, and the rest shall be for thee, Harmac=
his.
For much she loves to play with the mysteries of magic, and I have known her
stand whole nights watching the stars and making a pretence to read them. A=
nd but
lately she has sent away Dioscorides the physician, because, poor fool! he
ventured on a prophecy from the conjunction of the stars, that Cassius would
defeat Mark Antony. Thereon Cleopatra sent orders to the General Allienus,
bidding him add the legions she had sent to Syria to help Antony to the arm=
y of
Cassius, whose victory, forsooth, was--according to Dioscorides--written on=
the
stars. But, as it chanced, Antony beat Cassius first and Brutus afterwards,=
and
so Dioscorides has departed, and now he lectures on herbs in the museum for=
his
bread, and hates the name of stars. But his place is empty, and thou shalt =
fill
it, and then we will work in secret and in the shadow of the sceptre. Ay, we
will work like the worm at the heart of a fruit, till the time of plucking
comes, and at thy dagger's touch, royal Cousin, the fabric of this Grecian
throne crumbles to nothingness, and the worm that rotted it bursts his serv=
ile
covering, and, in the sight of empires, spreads his royal wings o'er
Egypt."
I gazed at this strange girl once more astonis=
hed,
and saw that her face was lit up with such a light as I had never seen in t=
he
eyes of woman.
"Ah," broke in my uncle, who was
watching her, "ah, I love to see thee so, girl; there is the Charmion =
that
I knew and I bred up--not the Court girl whom I like not, draped in silks of
Cos and fragrant with essences. Let thy heart harden in this mould--ay, sta=
mp
it with the fervid zeal of patriot faith, and thy reward shall find thee. A=
nd
now cover up that shameless dress of thine and leave us, for it grows late.
To-morrow Harmachis shall come, as thou hast said, and so farewell."
Charmion bowed her head, and, turning, wrapped=
her
dark-hued peplos round her. Then, taking my hand, she touched it with her l=
ips
and went without any further word.
"A strange woman!" said Sepa, when s=
he
had gone; "a most strange woman, and an uncertain!"
"Methought, my uncle," I said,
"that thou wast somewhat harsh with her."
"Ay," he answered, "but not wit=
hout
a cause. Look thou, Harmachis; beware of this Charmion. She is too wayward,
and, I fear me, may be led away. In truth, she is a very woman; and, like a
restive horse, will take the path that pleases her. She has brain and fire,=
and
she loves our cause; but I pray that the cause come not face to face with h=
er desires,
for what her heart is set on that will she do, at any cost she will do it.
Therefore I frightened her now while I may: for who can know but that she w=
ill
pass beyond my power? I tell thee, that in this one girl's hand lie all our
lives: and if she play us false, what then? Alas! and alas! that we must use
such tools as these! But it was needful: there was no other way; and yet I
misdoubted me. I pray that it may be well; still, at times, I fear my niece
Charmion--she is too fair, and the blood of youth runs too warm in those bl=
ue
veins of hers.
"Ah, woe to the cause that builds its
strength upon a woman's faith; for women are faithful only where they love,=
and
when they love their faithlessness becomes their faith. They are not fixed =
as
men are fixed: they rise more high and sink more low--they are strong and
changeful as the sea. Harmachis, beware of this Charmion: for, like the oce=
an,
she may float thee home; or, like the ocean, she may wreck thee, and, with =
thee,
the hope of Egypt!"
Thus it came to pass that on the next day I
arrayed myself in a long and flowing robe, after the fashion of a magician =
or
astrologer. I placed a cap on my head, about which were broidered images of=
the
stars, and in my belt a scribe's palette and a roll of papyrus written over
with magic spells and signs. In my hand I held a wand of ebony, tipped with
ivory, such as is used by priests and masters of magic. Among these, indeed=
, I
took high rank, filling my knowledge of their secrets which I had learned at
Annu what I lacked in that skill which comes from use. And so with no small
shame, for I love not such play and hold this common magic in contempt, I s=
et
forth through the Bruchium to the palace on the Lochias, being guided on my=
way
by my uncle Sepa. At length, passing up the avenue of sphinxes, we came to =
the
great marble gateway and the gates of bronze, within which is the guard-hou=
se.
Here my uncle left me, breathing many prayers for my safety and success. Bu=
t I
advanced with an easy air to the gate, where I was roughly challenged by the
Gallic sentries, and asked of my name, following, and business. I gave my n=
ame,
Harmachis, the astrologer, saying that my business was with the Lady Charmi=
on,
the Queen's lady. Thereon the man made as though to let me pass in, when a
captain of the guard, a Roman named Paulus, came forward and forbade it. No=
w,
this Paulus was a large limbed man, with a woman's face, and a hand that sh=
ook
from wine-bibbing. Still he knew me again.
"Why," he cried, in the Latin tongue=
, to
one who came with him, "this is the fellow who wrestled yesterday with=
the
Nubian gladiator, that same who now howls for his lost hand underneath my
window. Curses on the black brute! I had a bet upon him for the games! I ha=
ve
backed him against Caius, and now he'll never fight again, and I must lose =
my money,
all through this astrologer. What is it thou sayest?--thou hast business wi=
th
the Lady Charmion? Nay, then, that settles it. I will not let thee through.
Fellow, I worship the Lady Charmion--ay, we all worship her, though she giv=
es
us more slaps than sighs. And dost thou think that we will suffer an astrol=
oger
with such eyes and such a chest as thine to cut in the game?--by Bacchus, n=
o!
She must come out to keep the tryst, for in thou shalt not go."
"Sir," I said humbly and yet with
dignity, "I pray that a message may be sent to the Lady Charmion, for =
my
business will not brook delay."
"Ye Gods!" answered the fool, "=
whom
have we here that he cannot wait? A Cæsar in disguise? Nay, be off--be off!=
if
thou wouldst not learn how a spear-prick feels behind."
"Nay," put in the other officer,
"he is an astrologer; make him prophesy--make him play tricks."
"Ay," cried the others who had saunt=
ered
up, "let the fellow show his art. If he is a magician he can pass the
gates, Paulus or no Paulus."
"Right willingly, good Sirs," I
answered; for I saw no other means of entering. "Wilt thou, my young a=
nd
noble Lord"--and I addressed him who was with Paulus--"suffer tha=
t I
look thee in the eyes; perhaps I may read what is written there?"
"Right," answered the youth; "b=
ut I
wish that the Lady Charmion was the sorceress. I would stare her out of
countenance, I warrant."
I took him by the hand and gazed deep into his
eyes. "I see," I said, "a field of battle at night, and abou=
t it
bodies stretched--among them is thy body, and a hyena tears its throat. Most
noble Sir, thou shalt die by sword-thrusts within a year."
"By Bacchus!" said the youth, turning
white to the gills, "thou art an ill-omened sorcerer!" And he slu=
nk
off--shortly afterwards, as it chanced, to meet this very fate. For he was =
sent
on service and slain in Cyprus.
"Now for thee, great Captain!" I sai=
d,
speaking to Paulus. "I will show thee how I will pass those gates with=
out
thy leave--ay, and draw thee through them after me. Be pleased to fix thy
princely gaze upon the point of this wand in my hand."
Being urged by his comrades he did this,
unwillingly; and I let him gaze till I saw his eyes grow empty as an owl's =
eyes
in the sun. Then I suddenly withdrew the wand, and, shifting my countenance
into the place of it, I seized him with my will and stare, and, beginning to
turn round and round, drew him after me, his fierce face drawn fixed, as it
were, almost to my own. Then I moved slowly backwards till I had passed the=
gates,
still drawing him after me, and suddenly jerked my head away. He fell to the
ground, to rise wiping his brow and looking very foolish.
"Art thou content, most noble Captain?&qu=
ot;
I said. "Thou seest we have passed the gates. Would any other noble Sir
wish that I should show more of my skill?"
"By Taranis, Lord of Thunder, and all the
Gods of Olympus thrown in, no!" growled an old Centurion, a Gaul named
Brennus, "I like thee not, I say. The man who could drag our Paulus
through those gates by the eye, as it were, is not a man to play with. Paul=
us,
too, who always goes the way you don't want him--backwards, like an
ass--Paulus! Why, sirrah, thou needst must have a woman in one eye and a
wine-cup in the other to draw our Paulus thus."
At this moment the talk was broken, for Charmi=
on
herself came down the marble path, followed by an armed slave. She walked c=
alm
and carelessly, her hands folded behind her, and her eyes gazing at
nothingness, as it were. But it was when Charmion thus looked upon nothing =
that
she saw most. And as she came the officers and men of the guard made way fo=
r her
bowing, for, as I learned afterwards, this girl, next to Cleopatra's self,
wielded more power than anyone about the palace.
"What is this tumult, Brennus?" she
said, speaking to the Centurion, and making as if she saw me not; "kno=
west
thou not that the Queen sleeps at this hour, and if she be awakened it is t=
hou
who must answer for it, and that dearly?"
"Nay, Lady," said the Centurion, hum=
bly;
"but it is thus. We have here"--and he jerked his thumb towards
me--"a magician of the most pestilent--um, I crave his pardon--of the =
very
best sort, for he hath but just now, only by placing his eyes close to the =
nose
of the worthy Captain Paulus, dragged him, the said Paulus, through the gat=
es
that Paulus swore the magician should not pass. By the same token, lady, th=
e magician
says that he has business with you--which grieves me for your sake."
Charmion turned and looked at me carelessly.
"Ay, I remember," she said; "and so he has--at least, the Qu=
een
would see his tricks; but if he can do none better than cause a sot"--=
here
she cast a glance of scorn at the wondering Paulus--"to follow his nose
through the gates he guards, he had better go whence he came. Follow me, Sir
Magician; and for thee, Brennus, I say, keep thy riotous crew more quiet. F=
or
thee, most honourable Paulus, get thee sober, and next time I am asked for =
at
the gates give him who asks a hearing." And, with a queenly nod of her
small head, she turned and led the way, followed at a distance by myself an=
d the
armed slave.
We passed up the marble walk which runs throug=
h the
garden grounds, and is set on either side with marble statues, for the most
part of heathen Gods and Goddesses, with which these Lagidæ were not ashame=
d to
defile their royal dwellings. At length we came to a beautiful portico with=
fluted
columns of the Grecian style of art, where we found more guards, who made w=
ay
for the Lady Charmion. Crossing the portico we reached a marble vestibule w=
here
a fountain splashed softly, and thence by a low doorway a second chamber, k=
nown
as the Alabaster Hall, most beautiful to see. Its roof was upheld by light
columns of black marble, but all its walls were panelled with alabaster, on
which Grecian legends were engraved. Its floor was of rich and many-hued mo=
saic
that told the tale of the passion of Psyche for the Grecian God of Love, and
about it were set chairs of ivory and gold. Charmion bade the armed slave s=
tay
at the doorway of this chamber, so that we passed in alone, for the place w=
as empty
except for two eunuchs who stood with drawn swords before the curtain at the
further end.
"I am vexed, my Lord," she said,
speaking very low and shyly, "that thou shouldst have met with such
affronts at the gate; but the guard there served a double watch, and I had
given my commands to the officer of the company that should have relieved i=
t.
Those Roman officers are ever insolent, who, though they seem to serve, know
well that Egypt is their plaything. But it is not amiss, for these rough
soldiers are superstitious, and will fear thee. Now bide thou here while I =
go
into Cleopatra's chamber, where she sleeps. I have but just sung her to sle=
ep,
and if she be awake I will call thee, for she waits thy coming." And
without more words she glided from my side.
In a little time she returned, and coming to me
spoke:
"Wouldst see the fairest woman in all the
world, asleep?" she whispered; "if so, follow me. Nay, fear not; =
when
she awakes she will but laugh, for she bade me be sure to bring thee instan=
tly,
whether she slept or woke. See, I have her signet."
So we passed up the beautiful chamber till we =
came
to where the eunuchs stood with drawn swords, and these would have barred my
entry. But Charmion frowned, and drawing the signet from her bosom held it
before their eyes. Having examined the writing that was on the ring, they b=
owed,
dropping their sword points and we passed through the heavy curtains broide=
red
with gold into the resting-place of Cleopatra. It was beautiful beyond
imagining--beautiful with many coloured marbles, with gold and ivory, gems =
and
flowers--all art can furnish and all luxury can dream of were here. Here we=
re
pictures so real that birds might have pecked the painted fruits; here were
statues of woman's loveliness frozen into stone; here were draperies fine as
softest silk, but woven of a web of gold; here were couches and carpets suc=
h as
I never saw. The air, too, was sweet with perfume, while through the open
window places came the far murmur of the sea. And at the further end of the
chamber, on a couch of gleaming silk and sheltered by a net of finest gauze=
, Cleopatra
lay asleep. There she lay--the fairest thing that man ever saw--fairer than=
a
dream, and the web of her dark hair flowed all about her. One white, rounded
arm made a pillow for her head, and one hung down towards the ground. Her r=
ich
lips were parted in a smile, showing the ivory lines of teeth; and her rosy
limbs were draped in so thin a robe of the silk of Cos, held about her by a
jewelled girdle, that the white gleam of flesh shone through it. I stood
astonished, and though my thoughts had little bent that way, the sight of h=
er
beauty struck me like a blow, so that for a moment I lost myself as it were=
in
the vision of its power, and was grieved at heart because I must slay so fa=
ir a
thing.
Turning suddenly from the sight, I found Charm=
ion
watching me with her quick eyes--watching as though she would search my hea=
rt.
And, indeed, something of my thought must have been written on my face in a
language
that she could read, for she whispered in my e=
ar:
"Ay, it is pity, is it not? Harmachis, be=
ing
but a man, methinks that thou wilt need all thy ghostly strength to nerve t=
hee
to the deed!"
I frowned, but before I could frame an answer =
she
touched me lightly on the arm and pointed to the Queen. A change had come u=
pon
her: her hands were clenched, and about her face, all rosy with the hue of
sleep, gathered a cloud of fear. Her breath came quick, she raised her arms=
as though
to ward away a blow, then with a stifled moan sat up and opened the windows=
of
her eyes. They were dark, dark as night; but when the light found them they
grew blue as the sky grows blue before the blushing of the dawn.
"Cæsarion?" she said; "where is=
my
son Cæsarion?--Was it then a dream? I dreamed that Julius--Julius who is
dead--came to me, a bloody toga wrapped about his face, and having thrown h=
is
arms about his child led him away. Then I dreamed I died--died in blood and
agony; and one I might not see mocked me as I died. Ah! who is that man?&qu=
ot;
"Peace, Madam! peace!" said Charmion.
"It is but the magician Harmachis, whom thou didst bid me bring to the=
e at
this hour."
"Ah! the magician--that Harmachis who
overthrew the giant? I remember now. He is welcome. Tell me, Sir Magician, =
can
thy magic mirror call forth an answer to this dream? Nay, how strange a thi=
ng
is Sleep, that wrapping the mind in a web of darkness, straightly compels i=
t to
its will! Whence, then, come those images of fear rising on the horizon of =
the
soul like some untimely moon upon a midday sky? Who grants them power to st=
alk
so lifelike from Memory's halls, and, pointing to their wounds, thus confro=
nt
the Present with the Past? Are they, then, messengers? Does the half-death =
of
sleep give them foothold in our brains, and thus upknit the cut thread of h=
uman
kinship? That was Cæsar's self, I tell thee, who but now stood at my side a=
nd
murmured through his muffled robe warning words of which the memory is lost=
to me.
Read me this riddle, thou Egyptian Sphinx,[*] and I'll show thee a rosier p=
ath
to fortune than all thy stars can point. Thou hast brought the omen, solve =
thou
its problem."
[=
*]
Alluding to his name. Harmachis was the Grecian title of the divinity of the Sphinx, as Horem=
khu
was the Egyptian.-- Editor.
"I come in a good hour, most mighty
Queen," I answered, "for I have some skill in the mysteries of Sl=
eep,
that is, as thou hast rightly guessed, a stair by which those who are gathe=
red
to Osiris may from time to time enter at the gateways of our living sense, =
and,
by signs and words that can be read of instructed mortals, repeat the echoe=
s of
that Hall of Truth which is their habitation. Yes, Sleep is a stair by which
the messengers of the guardian Gods may descend in many shapes upon the spi=
rit
of their choice. For, O Queen, to those who hold the key, the madness of our
dreams can show a clearer purpose and speak more certainly than all the act=
ed
wisdom of our waking life, which is a dream indeed. Thou didst see great Cæ=
sar
in his bloody robe, and he threw his arms about the Prince Cæsarion and led=
him
hence. Hearken now to the secret of thy vision. It was Cæsar's self thou sa=
west
coming to thy side from Amenti in such a guise as might not be mistaken. Wh=
en
he embraced the child Cæsarion he did it for a sign that to him, and him al=
one,
had passed his greatness and his love. When he seemed to lead him hence he =
led
him forth from Egypt to be crowned in the Capitol, crowned the Emperor of R=
ome
and Lord of all the Lands. For the rest, I know not. It is hid from me.&quo=
t;
Thus, then, I read the vision, though to my se=
nse
it had a darker meaning. But it is not well to prophesy evil unto Kings.
Meanwhile Cleopatra had risen, and, having thr=
own
back the gnat gauze, was seated upon the edge of her couch, her eyes fixed =
upon
my face, while her fingers played with her girdle's jewelled ends.
"Of a truth," she cried, "thou =
art
the best of all magicians, for thou readest my heart, and drawest a hidden
sweet out of the rough shell of evil omen!"
"Ay, O Queen," said Charmion, who st=
ood
by with downcast eyes, and I thought that there was bitter meaning in her s=
oft tones;
"may no rougher words ever affront thy ears, and no evil presage tread
less closely upon its happy sense."
Cleopatra placed her hands behind her head and,
leaning back, looked at me with half-shut eyes.
"Come, show us of thy magic, Egyptian,&qu=
ot;
she said. "It is yet hot abroad, and I am weary of those Hebrew
Ambassadors and their talk of Herod and Jerusalem. I hate that Herod, as he
shall find--and will have none of the Ambassadors to-day, though I yearn a
little to try my Hebrew on them. What canst thou do? Hast thou no new trick=
? By
Serapis! if thou canst conjure as well as thou canst prophesy, thou shalt h=
ave
a place at Court, with pay and perquisites to boot, if thy lofty soul does =
not scorn
perquisites."
"Nay," I answered, "all tricks =
are
old; but there are some forms of magic to be rarely used, and with discreti=
on,
that may be new to thee, O Queen! Art thou afraid to venture on the
charm?"
"I fear nothing; go on and do thy worst.
Come, Charmion, and sit by me. But, stay, where are all the girls?--Iras and
Merira?--they, too, love magic."
"Not so," I said; "the charms w=
ork
ill before so many. Now behold!" and, gazing at the twain, I cast my w=
and
upon the marble and murmured a spell. For a moment it was still, and then, =
as I
muttered, the rod slowly began to writhe. It bent itself, it stood on end, =
and
moved of its own motion. Next it put on scales, and behold it was a serpent
that crawled and fiercely hissed.
"Fie on thee!" cried Cleopatra, clap=
ping
her hands; "callest thou that magic? Why, it is an old trick that any
wayside conjurer can do. I have seen it a score of times."
"Wait, O Queen," I answered, "t=
hou
hast not seen all." And, as I spoke, the serpent seemed to break in
fragments, and from each fragment grew a new serpent. And these, too, broke=
in
fragments and bred others, till in a little while the place, to their glamo=
ured
sight, was a seething sea of snakes, that crawled, hissed, and knotted
themselves in knots. Then I made a sign, and the serpents gathered themselv=
es
round me, and seemed slowly to twine themselves about my body and my limbs,
till, save my face, I was wreathed thick with hissing snakes.
"Oh, horrible! horrible!" cried
Charmion, hiding her countenance in the skirt of the Queen's garment.
"Nay, enough, Magician, enough!" said
the Queen: "thy magic overwhelms us."
I waved my snake-wrapped arms, and all was gon=
e.
There at my feet lay the black wand tipped with ivory, and naught beside.
The two women looked upon each other and gasped
with wonder. But I took up the wand and stood with folded arms before them.=
"Is the Queen content with my poor art?&q=
uot;
I asked most humbly.
"Ay, that I am, Egyptian; never did I see=
its
like! Thou art Court astronomer from this day forward, with right of access=
to
the Queen's presence. Hast thou more of such magic at thy call?"
"Yea, royal Egypt; suffer that the chambe=
r be
a little darkened, and I will show thee one more thing."
"Half am I afraid," she answered;
"nevertheless do thou as this Harmachis says, Charmion."
So the curtains were drawn and the chamber mad=
e as
though the twilight were at hand. I came forward, and stood beside Cleopatr=
a.
"Gaze thou there!" I said sternly, pointing with my wand to the e=
mpty
space where I had been, "and thou shalt behold that which is in thy
mind."
Then for a little space was silence, while the=
two
women gazed fixedly and half fearful at the spot.
And as they gazed a cloud gathered before them.
Very slowly it took shape and form, and the form it took was the form of a =
man,
though as yet he was but vaguely mapped upon the twilight, and seemed now to
grow and now to melt away.
Then I cried with a loud voice:
"Spirit, I conjure thee, appear!"
And as I cried the Thing, perfect in every par=
t,
leapt into form before us, suddenly as the flash of day. His shape was the
shape of royal Cæsar, the toga thrown about his face, and on his form a
vestment bloody from a hundred wounds. An instant so he stood, then I waved=
my
wand and he was gone.
I turned to the two women on the couch, and saw
Cleopatra's lovely face all clothed in terror. Her lips were ashy white, her
eyes stared wide, and all the flesh was shaking on her bones.
"Man!" she gasped; "man! who and
what art thou who canst bring the dead before our eyes?"
"I am the Queen's astronomer, magician,
servant--what the Queen wills," I answered, laughing. "Was this t=
he
form that was on the Queen's mind?"
She made no answer, but, rising, left the cham=
ber
by another door.
Then Charmion rose also and took her hands from
her face, for she, too, had been stricken with dread.
"How dost thou these things, royal
Harmachis?" she said. "Tell me; for of a truth I fear thee."=
"Be not afraid," I answered.
"Perchance thou didst see nothing but what was in my mind. All things =
are
shadows. How canst thou, then, know their nature, or what is and what only
seems to be? But how goes it? Remember, Charmion, this sport is played to an
end."
"It goes well," she said. "By
to-morrow morning's dawn these tales will have gone round, and thou wilt be
more feared than any man in Alexandria. Follow me, I pray thee."
On the following day I received the writing of=
my
appointment as Astrologer and Magician-in-Chief to the Queen, with the pay =
and perquisites
of that office, which were not small. Rooms were given me in the palace, al=
so,
through which I passed at night to the high watch-tower, whence I looked on=
the
stars and drew their auguries. For at this time Cleopatra was much troubled
about matters political, and not knowing how the great struggle among the R=
oman
factions would end, but being very desirous to side with the strongest, she
took constant counsel with me as to the warnings of the stars. These I read=
to
her in such manner as best seemed to fit the high interest of my ends. For =
Antony,
the Roman Triumvir, was now in Asia Minor, and, rumour ran, very wroth beca=
use
it had been told him that Cleopatra was hostile to the Triumvirate, in that=
her
General, Serapion, had aided Cassius. But Cleopatra protested loudly to me =
and
others that Serapion had acted against her will. Yet Charmion told me that,=
as
with Allienus, it was because of a prophecy of Dioscorides the unlucky that=
the
Queen herself had secretly ordered Serapion so to do. Still, this did not s=
ave Serapion,
for to prove to Antony that she was innocent she dragged the General from t=
he
sanctuary and slew him. Woe be to those who carry out the will of tyrants if
the scale should rise against them! And so Serapion perished.
Meanwhile all things went well with us, for the
minds of Cleopatra and those about her were so set upon affairs abroad that
neither she nor they thought of revolt at home. But day by day our party
gathered strength in the cities of Egypt, and even in Alexandria, which is =
to Egypt
as another land, all things being foreign there. Day by day, those who doub=
ted
were won over and sworn to the cause by that oath which cannot be broken, a=
nd
our plans of action more firmly laid. And every other day I went forth from=
the
palace to take counsel with my uncle Sepa, and there at his house met the
Nobles and the great priests who were for the party of Khem.
I saw much of Cleopatra, the Queen, and I was =
ever
more astonished at the wealth and splendour of her mind, that for richness =
and
variety was as a woven cloth of gold throwing back all lights from its chan=
ging
face. She feared me somewhat, and therefore wished to make a friend of me,
asking me of many matters that seemed to be beyond the province of my offic=
e. I
saw much of the Lady Charmion also--indeed, she was ever at my side, so tha=
t I
scarce knew when she came and when she went. For she would draw nigh with t=
hat
soft step of hers, and I would turn to find her at hand and watching me ben=
eath
the long lashes of her downcast eyes. There was no service that was too hard
for her, and no task too long; for day and night she laboured for me and for
our cause.
But when I thanked her for her loyalty, and sa=
id
it should be had in mind in that time which was at hand, she stamped her fo=
ot,
and pouted with her lips, like an angry child, saying that, among all the
things which I had learned, this had I not learned--that Love's service ask=
ed no
payment, and was its own guerdon. And I, being innocent in such matters, an=
d,
foolish that I was, holding the ways of women as of small account, read her
sayings in the sense that her services to the cause of Khem, which she love=
d,
brought with them their own reward. But when I praised so fine a spirit, she
burst into angry tears and left me wondering. For I knew nothing of the tro=
uble
at her heart. I knew not then that, unsought, this woman had given me her l=
ove,
and that she was rent and torn by pangs of passion fixed like arrows in her
breast. I did not know--how should I know it, who never looked upon her
otherwise than as an instrument of our joint and holy cause? Her beauty nev=
er
stirred me--no, not even when she leaned over me and breathed upon my hair,=
I never
thought of it otherwise than as a man thinks of the beauty of a statue. What
had I to do with such delights, I who was sworn to Isis and dedicate to the
cause of Egypt? O ye Gods, bear me witness that I am innocent of this thing
which was the source of all my woe and the woe of Khem!
How strange a thing is this love of woman, tha=
t is
so small in its beginning and in its ends so great! See, at the first it is=
as
the little spring of water welling from a mountain's heart. And at the last=
what
is it? It is a mighty river that floats argosies of joy and makes wide land=
s to
smile. Or, perchance, it is a torrent to wash in a flood of ruin across the
fields of Hope, bursting in the barriers of design, and bringing to tumbled
nothingness the tenement of man's purity and the temples of his faith. For =
when
the Invisible conceived the order of the universe He set this seed of woman=
's
love within its plan, that by its most unequal growth is doomed to bring ab=
out
equality of law. For now it lifts the low to heights untold, and now it bri=
ngs
the noble to the level of the dust. And thus, while Woman, that great surpr=
ise
of nature, is, Good and Evil can never grow apart. For still She stands, an=
d,
blind with love, shoots the shuttle of our fate, and pours sweet water into=
the
cup of bitterness, and poisons the wholesome breath of life with the doom of
her desire. Turn this way and turn that, She is at hand to meet thee. Her
weakness is thy strength, her might is thy undoing. Of her thou art, to her
thou goest. She is thy slave, yet holds thee captive; at her touch honour
withers, locks open, and barriers fall. She is infinite as ocean, she is
variable as heaven, and her name is the Unforeseen. Man, strive not to esca=
pe
from Woman and the love of woman; for, fly where thou wilt, She is yet thy
fate, and whate'er thou buildest thou buildest it for her!
And thus it came to pass that I, Harmachis, who
had put such matters far from me, was yet doomed to fall by the thing I hel=
d of
no account. For, see, this Charmion: she loved me--why, I know not. Of her =
own
thought she learned to love me, and of her love came what shall be told. Bu=
t I,
knowing naught, treated her like a sister, walking as it were hand in hand =
with
her towards our common end.
And so the time passed on, till, at length, all
things were made ready.
It was the night before the night when the blow
should fall, and there were revellings in the palace. That very day I had s=
een
Sepa, and with him the captains of a band of five hundred men, who should b=
urst
into the palace at midnight on the morrow, when I had slain Cleopatra the Q=
ueen,
and put the Roman and the Gallic legionaries to the sword. That very day I =
had
suborned the Captain Paulus who, since I drew him through the gates, was my
will's slave. Half by fear and half by promises of great reward I had preva=
iled
upon him, for the watch was his, to unbar that small gate which faces to the
East at the signal on the morrow night.
All was made ready--the flower of Freedom that=
had
been five-and-twenty years in growth was on the point of bloom. Armed compa=
nies
were gathering in every city from Abu to Athu, and spies looked out from th=
eir
walls, awaiting the coming of the messenger who should bring tidings that
Cleopatra was no more and that Harmachis, the royal Egyptian, had seized the
throne.
All was prepared, triumph hung in my hand as a
ripe fruit to the hand of the plucker. Yet as I sat at the royal feast my h=
eart
was heavy, and a shadow of coming woe lay cold within my mind. I sat there =
in a
place of honour, near the majesty of Cleopatra, and looked down the lines o=
f guests,
bright with gems and garlanded with flowers, marking those whom I had doome=
d to
die. There before me lay Cleopatra in all her beauty, which thrilled the
beholder as he is thrilled by the rushing of the midnight gale, or by the s=
ight
of stormy waters. I gazed on her as she touched her lips with wine and toyed
with the chaplet of roses on her brow, thinking of the dagger beneath my ro=
be
that I had sworn to bury in her breast. Again, and yet again, I gazed and
strove to hate her, strove to rejoice that she must die--and could not. The=
re,
too, behind her--watching me now, as ever, with her deep-fringed eyes--was =
the lovely
Lady Charmion. Who, to look at her innocent face, would believe that she was
the setter of that snare in which the Queen who loved her should miserably
perish? Who would dream that the secret of so much death was locked in her
girlish breast? I gazed, and grew sick at heart because I must anoint my th=
rone
with blood, and by evil sweep away the evil of the land. At that hour I wis=
hed,
indeed, that I was nothing but some humble husbandman, who in its season gr=
ows
and in its season garners the golden grain! Alas! the seed that I had been
doomed to sow was the seed of Death, and now I must reap the red fruit of t=
he
harvest!
"Why, Harmachis, what ails thee?" sa=
id
Cleopatra, smiling her slow smile. "Has the golden skein of stars got
tangled, my astronomer? or dost thou plan some new feat of magic? Say what =
is
it that thou dost so poorly grace our feast? Nay, now, did I not know, havi=
ng
made inquiry, that things so low as we poor women are far beneath thy gaze,
why, I should swear that Eros had found thee out, Harmachis!"
"Nay, that I am spared, O Queen," I
answered. "The servant of the stars marks not the smaller light of wom=
an's
eyes, and therein is he happy!"
Cleopatra leaned herself towards me, looking o=
n me
long and steadily in such fashion that, despite my will, the blood fluttere=
d at
my heart.
"Boast not, thou proud Egyptian," she
said in a low voice which none but I and Charmion could hear, "lest
perchance thou dost tempt me to match my magic against thine. What woman can
forgive that a man should push us by as things of no account? It is an insu=
lt
to our sex which Nature's self abhors," and she leaned back again and
laughed most musically. But, glancing up, I saw Charmion, her teeth on her =
lip
and an angry frown upon her brow.
"Pardon, royal Egypt," I answered
coldly, but with such wit as I could summon, "before the Queen of Heav=
en
even stars grow pale!" This I said of the moon, which is the sign of t=
he
Holy Mother whom Cleopatra dared to rival, naming herself Isis come to eart=
h.
"Happily said," she answered, clappi=
ng
her white hands. "Why, here's an astronomer who has wit and can shape a
compliment! Nay, such a wonder must not pass unnoted, lest the Gods resent =
it.
Charmion, take this rose-chaplet from my hair and set it upon the learned b=
row
of our Harmachis. He shall be crowned King of Love, whether he will it or n=
ot."
Charmion lifted the chaplet from Cleopatra's b=
rows
and, bearing it to where I was, with a smile set it upon my head yet warm a=
nd
fragrant from the Queen's hair, but so roughly that she pained me somewhat.=
She
did this because she was wroth, although she smiled with her lips and whisp=
ered,
"An omen, royal Harmachis." For though she was so very much a wom=
an,
yet, when she was angered or suffered jealousy, Charmion had a childish way=
.
Having thus fixed the chaplet, she curtsied low
before me, and with the softest tone of mockery named me, in the Greek tong=
ue,
"Harmachis, King of Love." Then Cleopatra laughed and pledged me =
as
"King of Love," and so did all the company, finding the jest a me=
rry
one. For in Alexandria they love not those who live straitly and turn aside
from women.
But I sat there, a smile upon my lips, and bla=
ck
wrath in my heart. For, knowing who and what I was, it irked me to think my=
self
a jest for the frivolous nobles and light beauties of Cleopatra's Court. Bu=
t I
was chiefly angered against Charmion, because she laughed the loudest, and =
I did
not then know that laughter and bitterness are often the veils with which a
sore heart wraps its weakness from the world. "An omen" she said =
it
was--that crown of flowers--and so it proved indeed. For I was fated to bar=
ter
the Double Diadem of the Upper and the Lower Land for a wreath of passion's
roses that fade before they fully bloom, and Pharaoh's ivory bed of state f=
or
the pillow of a faithless woman's breast.
"King of Love!" they crowned me in t=
heir
mockery; ay, and King of Shame! And I, with the perfumed roses on my brow--=
I,
by descent and ordination the Pharaoh of Egypt--thought of the imperishable
halls of Abouthis and of that other crowning which on the morrow should be =
consummate.
But still smiling, I pledged them back, and
answered with a jest. For rising, I bowed before Cleopatra and craved leave=
to
go. "Venus," I said, speaking of the planet that we know as Donao=
u in
the morning and Bonou in the evening, "was in the ascendant. Therefore=
, as
new-crowned King of Love, I must now pass to do my homage to its Queen.&quo=
t;
For these barbarians name Venus Queen of Love.
And so amidst their laughter I withdraw to my
watch-tower, and, dashing that shameful chaplet down amidst the instruments=
of
my craft, made pretence to note the rolling of the stars. There I waited,
thinking on many things that were to be, until Charmion should come with the
last lists of the doomed and the messages of my uncle Sepa, whom she had se=
en that
evening.
At length the door opened softly, and she came
jewelled and clad in her white robes, as she had left the feast.
"At length thou art come, Charmion,"=
I
said. "It is over-late."
"Yea, my Lord; but by no means could I es=
cape
Cleopatra. Her mood is strangely crossed to-night. I know not what it may
portend. Strange whims and fancies blow across it like light and contrary a=
irs
upon a summer sea, and I cannot read her purpose."
"Well, well; enough of Cleopatra. Hast th=
ou
seen our uncle?"
"Yes, royal Harmachis."
"And hast thou the last lists?"
"Yes; here they are," and she drew t=
hem
from her bosom. "Here is the list of those who, after the Queen, must
certainly be put to the sword. Among them thou wilt note is the name of that
old Gaul Brennus. I grieve for him, for we are friends; but it must be. It =
is a
heavy list."
"It is so," I answered conning it;
"when men write out their count they forget no item, and our count is
long. What must be must be. Now for the next."
"Here is the list of those to be spared, =
as
friendly or uncertain; and here that of the towns which will certainly rise=
as
soon as the messenger reaches their gates with tidings of the death of
Cleopatra."
"Good. And now"--and I paused--"=
;and
now as to the manner of Cleopatra's death. How hast thou settled it? Must i=
t be
by my own hand?"
"Yea, my Lord," she answered, and ag=
ain
I caught that note of bitterness in her voice. "Doubtless Pharaoh will
rejoice that his should be the hand to rid the land of this false Queen and
wanton woman, and at one blow break the chains which gall the neck of
Egypt."
"Talk not thus, girl," I said;
"thou knowest well that I do not rejoice, being but driven to the act =
by
deep necessity and the pressure of my vows. Can she not, then, be poisoned?=
Or
can no one of the eunuchs be suborned to slay her? My soul turns from this
bloody work! Indeed, I marvel, however heavy be her crimes, that thou canst
speak so lightly of the death by treachery of one who loves thee!"
"Surely Pharaoh is over-tender, forgetting
the greatness of the moment and all that hangs upon this dagger-stroke that
shall cut the thread of Cleopatra's life. Listen, Harmachis. Thou must do t=
he
deed, and thou alone! Myself I would do it, had my arm the strength; but it=
has
not. It cannot be done by poison, for every drop she drinks and every morse=
l that
shall touch her lips is strictly tasted by three separate tasters, who cann=
ot
be suborned. Nor may the eunuchs of the guard be trusted. Two, indeed, are
sworn to us; but the third cannot be come at. He must be cut down afterward=
s;
and, indeed, when so many men must fall, what matters a eunuch more or less?
Thus it shall be, then. To-morrow night, at three hours before midnight thou
dost cast the final augury of the issue of the war. And then thou wilt, as =
is
agreed, descend alone with me, having the signet, to the outer chamber of t=
he
Queen's apartment. For the vessel bearing orders to the Legions sails from
Alexandria at the following dawn; and alone with Cleopatra, since she wills
that the thing be kept secret as the sea, thou wilt read the message of the=
stars.
And as she pores over the papyrus, then must thou stab her in the back, so =
that
she dies; and see thou that thy will and arm fail thee not! The deed being
done--and indeed it will be easy--thou wilt take the signet and pass out to
where the eunuch is--for the others will be wanting. If by any chance there=
is
trouble with him--but there will be no trouble, for he dare not enter the
private rooms, and the sounds of death cannot reach so far--thou must cut h=
im
down. Then I will meet thee; and, passing on, we will come to Paulus, and it
shall be my care to see that he is neither drunk nor backward, for I know h=
ow
to hold him to the task. And he and those with him shall throw open the side
gate, when Sepa and the five hundred chosen men who are in waiting shall po=
ur in
and cast themselves upon the sleeping legionaries, putting them to the swor=
d.
Why, the thing is easy so thou rest true to thyself, and let no womanish fe=
ars
creep into thy heart. What is this dagger's thrust? It is nothing, and yet =
upon
it hang the destinies of Egypt and the world."
"Hush!" I said. "What is that?-=
-I
hear a sound."
Charmion ran to the door, and, gazing down the
long, dark passage, listened. In a moment she came back, her finger on her
lips. "It is the Queen," she whispered hurriedly; "the Queen=
who
mounts the stair alone. I heard her bid Iras to leave her. I may not be fou=
nd
alone with thee at this hour; it has a strange look, and she may suspect. W=
hat
wants she here? Where can I hide?"
I glanced round. At the further end of the cha=
mber
was a heavy curtain that hid a little place built in the thickness of the w=
all
which I used for the storage of rolls and instruments.
"Haste thee--there!" I said, and she
glided behind the curtain, which swung back and covered her. Then I thrust =
the
fatal scroll of death into the bosom of my robe and bent over the mystic ch=
art.
Presently I heard the sweep of woman's robes and there came a low knock upon
the door.
"Enter, whoever thou art," I said.
The latch lifted, and Cleopatra swept in, roya=
lly
arrayed, her dark hair hanging about her and the sacred snake of royalty
glistening on her brow.
"Of a truth, Harmachis," she said wi=
th a
sigh, as she sank into a seat, "the path to heaven is hard to climb! A=
h! I
am weary, for those stairs are many. But I was minded, my astronomer, to see
thee in thy haunts."
"I am honoured overmuch, O Queen!" I
said bowing low before her.
"Art thou now? And yet that dark face of
thine has a somewhat angry look--thou art too young and handsome for this d=
ry
trade, Harmachis. Why, I vow thou hast cast my wreath of roses down amidst =
thy
rusty tools! Kings would have cherished that wreath along with their choice=
st diadems,
Harmachis! and thou dost throw it away as a thing of no account! Why, what a
man art thou! But stay; what is this? A lady's kerchief, by Isis! Nay, now,=
my
Harmachis, how came this here? Are our poor kerchiefs also instruments of t=
hy
high art? Oh, fie, fie!--have I caught thee, then? Art thou indeed a fox?&q=
uot;
"Nay, most royal Cleopatra, nay!" I
said, turning; for the kerchief which had fallen from Charmion's neck had an
awkward look. "I know not, indeed, how the frippery came here. Perhaps,
some one of the women who keeps the chamber may have let it fall."
"Ah! so--so!" she said dryly, and st=
ill
laughing like a rippling brook. "Yes, surely, the slave-women who keep
chambers own such toys as this, of the very finest silk, worth twice its we=
ight
in gold, and broidered, too, in many colours. Why, myself I should not sham=
e to
wear it! Of a truth it seems familiar to my sight." And she threw it r=
ound
her neck and smoothed the ends with her white hand. "But there; doubtl=
ess,
it is a thing unholy in thine eyes that the scarf of thy beloved should res=
t upon
my poor breast. Take it, Harmachis; take it, and hide it in thy bosom--nigh=
thy
heart indeed!"
I took the accursed thing, and, muttering what=
I
may not write, stepped on to the giddy platform whence I watched the stars.
Then, crushing it into a ball, I threw it to the winds of heaven.
At this the lovely Queen laughed once more.
"Nay, think now," she cried; "w=
hat
would the lady say could she see her love-gauge thus cast to all the world?
Mayhap, Harmachis, thou wouldst deal thus with my wreath also? See, the ros=
es
fade; cast it forth," and, stooping, she took up the wreath and gave i=
t to
me.
For a moment, so vexed was I, I had a mind to =
take
her at her word and send the wreath to join the kerchief. But I thought bet=
ter
of it.
"Nay," I said more softly, "it =
is a
Queen's gift, and I will keep it," and, as I spoke, I saw the curtain
shake. Often since that night I have sorrowed over those simple words.
"Gracious thanks be to the King of Love f=
or
this small mercy," she answered, looking at me strangely. "Now,
enough of wit; come forth upon this balcony--tell me of the mystery of those
stars of thine. For I always loved the stars, that are so pure and bright a=
nd
cold, and so far away from our fevered troubling. There I would wish to dwe=
ll,
rocked on the dark bosom of the night, and losing the little sense of self =
as I
gazed for ever on the countenance of yon sweet-eyed space. Nay--who can tel=
l,
Harmachis?--perhaps those stars partake of our very substance, and, linked =
to
us by Nature's invisible chain, do, indeed, draw our destiny with them as t=
hey
roll. What says the Greek fable of him who became a star? Perchance it has
truth, for yonder tiny sparks may be the souls of men, but grown more purely
bright and placed in happy rest to illume the turmoil of their mother-earth=
. Or
are they lamps hung high in the heavenly vault that night by night some
Godhead, whose wings are Darkness, touches with his immortal fire so that t=
hey
leap out in answering flame? Give me of thy wisdom and open these wonders to
me, my servant, for I have little knowledge. Yet my heart is large, and I w=
ould
fill it, for I have the wit, could I but find the teacher."
Thereon, being glad to find footing on a safer
shore, and marvelling somewhat to learn that Cleopatra had a place for lofty
thoughts, I spoke and willingly told her such things as are lawful. I told =
her
how the sky is a liquid mass pressing round the earth and resting on the
elastic pillars of the air, and how above is the heavenly ocean Nout, in wh=
ich the
planets float like ships as they rush upon their radiant way. I told her ma=
ny
things, and amongst them how, through the certain never-ceasing movement of=
the
orbs of light, the planet Venus, that was called Donaou when she showed as =
the
Morning Star, became the planet Bonou when she came as the sweet Star of Ev=
e.
And while I stood and spoke watching the stars, she sat, her hands clasped =
upon
her knee, and watched my face.
"Ah!" she broke in at length, "=
and
so Venus is to be seen both in the morning and the evening sky. Well, of a
truth, she is everywhere, though she best loves the night. But thou lovest =
not
that I should use these Latin names to thee. Come, we will talk in the anci=
ent
tongue of Khem, which I know well; I am the first, mark thou, of all the La=
gidæ
who know it. And now," she went on, speaking in my own tongue, but wit=
h a
little foreign accent that did but make her talk more sweet, "enough of
stars, for, when all is said, they are but fickle things, and perhaps may e=
ven
now be storing up an evil hour for thee or me, or for both of us together. =
Not
but what I love to hear thee speak of them, for then thy face loses that gl=
oomy
cloud of thought which mars it and grows quick and human. Harmachis, thou a=
rt
too young for such a solemn trade; methinks that I must find thee a better.
Youth comes but once; why waste it in these musings? It is time to think wh=
en
we can no longer act. Tell me how old art thou, Harmachis?"
"I have six-and-twenty years, O Queen,&qu=
ot;
I answered, "for I was born in the first month of Shomou, in the summer
season, and on the third day of the month."
"Why, then, we are of an age even to a
day," she cried, "for I too have six-and-twenty years, and I too =
was
born on the third day of the first month of Shomou. Well, this may we say:
those who begot us need have no shame. For if I be the fairest woman in Egy=
pt,
methinks, Harmachis, that there is in Egypt no man more fair and strong than
thou, ay, or more learned. Born of the same day, why, 'tis manifest that we
were destined to stand together, I, as the Queen, and thou, perchance,
Harmachis, as one of the chief pillars of my throne, and thus to work each
other's weal."
"Or maybe each other's woe," I answe=
red,
looking up; for her sweet speeches stung my ears and brought more colour to=
my
face than I loved that she should see there.
"Nay, never talk of woe. Be seated here by
me, Harmachis, and let us talk, not as Queen and subject, but as friend to
friend. Thou wast angered with me at the feast to-night because I mocked th=
ee
with yonder wreath--was it not so? Nay, it was but a jest. Didst thou know =
how
heavy is the task of monarchs and how wearisome are their hours, thou would=
st not
be wroth because I lit my dulness with a jest. Oh, they weary me, those pri=
nces
and those nobles, and those stiff-necked pompous Romans. To my face they vow
themselves my slaves, and behind my back they mock me and proclaim me the
servant of their Triumvirate, or their Empire, or their Republic, as the wh=
eel
of Fortune turns, and each rises on its round! There is never a man among
them--nothing but fools, parasites, and puppets--never a man since with the=
ir
coward daggers they slew that Cæsar whom all the world in arms was not stro=
ng
enough to tame. And I must play off one against the other, if maybe, by so
doing, I can keep Egypt from their grip. And for reward, what? Why, this is=
my reward--that
all men speak ill of me--and, I know it, my subjects hate me! Yes, I believe
that, woman though I am, they would murder me could they find a means!"=
;
She paused, covering her eyes with her hand, a=
nd
it was well, for her words pierced me so that I shrank upon the seat beside
her.
"They think ill of me, I know it; and cal=
l me
wanton, who have never stepped aside save once, when I loved the greatest m=
an
of all the world, and at the touch of love my passion flamed indeed, but bu=
rnt
a hallowed flame. These ribald Alexandrians swear that I poisoned Ptolemy, =
my brother--whom
the Roman Senate would, most unnaturally, have forced on me, his sister, as=
a
husband! But it is false: he sickened and died of fever. And even so they s=
ay
that I would slay Arsinoë, my sister--who, indeed, would slay me!--but that,
too, is false! Though she will have none of me, I love my sister. Yes, they=
all
think ill of me without a cause; even thou dost think ill of me, Harmachis.=
"O Harmachis, before thou judgest, rememb=
er
what a thing is envy!--that foul sickness of the mind which makes the jaund=
iced
eye of pettiness to see all things distraught--to read Evil written on the =
open
face of Good, and find impurity in the whitest virgin's soul! Think what a
thing it is, Harmachis, to be set on high above the gaping crowd of knaves =
who hate
thee for thy fortune and thy wit; who gnash their teeth and shoot the arrow=
s of
their lies from the cover of their own obscureness, whence they have no win=
gs
to soar; and whose hearts' quest it is to drag down thy nobility to the lev=
el
of the groundling and the fool!
"Be not, then, swift to think evil of the
Great, whose every word and act is searched for error by a million angry ey=
es,
and whose most tiny fault is trumpeted by a thousand throats, till the world
shakes with echoes of their sin! Say not: 'It is thus, 'tis certainly
thus'--say, rather: 'May it not be otherwise? Have we heard aright? Did she
this thing of her own will?' Judge gently, Harmachis, as wert thou I thou w=
ouldst
be judged. Remember that a Queen is never free. She is, indeed, but the poi=
nt
and instrument of those forces politic with which the iron books of history=
are
graved. O Harmachis! be thou my friend--my friend and counsellor!--my friend
whom I can trust indeed!--for here, in this crowded Court, I am more utterly
alone than any soul that breathes about its corridors. But thee I trust; th=
ere
is faith written in those quiet eyes, and I am minded to lift thee high,
Harmachis. I can no longer bear my solitude of mind--I must find one with w=
hom
I may commune and speak that which lies within my heart. I have faults, I k=
now
it; but I am not all unworthy of thy faith, for there is good grain among t=
he
evil seed. Say, Harmachis, wilt thou take pity on my loneliness and befriend
me, who have lovers, courtiers, slaves, dependents, more thick than I can
count, but never one single friend?" and she leant towards me, touchin=
g me
lightly, and gazed on me with her wonderful blue eyes.
I was overcome; thinking of the morrow night,
shame and sorrow smote me. I, her friend!--I, whose assassin dagger lay aga=
inst
my breast! I bent my head, and a sob or a groan, I know not which, burst fr=
om
the agony of my heart.
But Cleopatra, thinking only that I was moved
beyond myself by the surprise of her graciousness, smiled sweetly, and said=
:
"It grows late; to-morrow night when thou
bringest the auguries we will speak again, O my friend Harmachis, and thou
shalt answer me." And she gave me her hand to kiss. Scarce knowing wha=
t I
did, I kissed it, and in another moment she was gone.
But I stood in the chamber, gazing after her l=
ike
one asleep.
I stood still, plunged in thought. Then by haz=
ard
as it were I took up the wreath of roses and looked on it. How long I stood=
so
I know not, but when next I lifted up my eyes they fell upon the form of
Charmion, whom, indeed, I had altogether forgotten. And though at the momen=
t I thought
but little of it, I noted vaguely that she was flushed as though with anger,
and beat her foot upon the floor.
"Oh, it is thou, Charmion!" I said.
"What ails thee? Art thou cramped with standing so long in thy
hiding-place? Why didst not thou slip hence when Cleopatra led me to the
balcony?"
"Where is my kerchief?" she asked,
shooting an angry glance at me. "I let fall my broidered kerchief.&quo=
t;
"Thy kerchief!--why, didst thou not see?
Cleopatra twitted me about it, and I flung it from the balcony."
"Yes, I saw," answered the girl, &qu=
ot;I
saw but too well. Thou didst fling away my kerchief, but the wreath of
roses--that thou wouldst not fling away. It was 'a Queen's gift,' forsooth,=
and
therefore the royal Harmachis, the Priest of Isis, the chosen of the Gods, =
the
crowned Pharaoh wed to the weal of Khem, cherished it and saved it. But my =
kerchief,
stung by the laughter of that light Queen, he cast away!"
"What meanest thou?" I asked, astoni=
shed
at her bitter tone. "I cannot read thy riddles."
"What mean I?" she answered, tossing=
up
her head and showing the white curves of her throat. "Nay, I mean naug=
ht,
or all; take it as thou wilt. Wouldst know what I mean, Harmachis, my cousin
and my Lord?" she went on in a hard, low voice. "Then I will tell
thee--thou art in danger of the great offence. This Cleopatra has cast her
fatal wiles about thee, and thou goest near to loving her, Harmachis--to lo=
ving
her whom to-morrow thou must slay! Ay, stand and stare at that wreath in thy
hand--the wreath thou couldst not send to join my kerchief--sure Cleopatra =
wore
it but to-night! The perfume of the hair of Cæsar's mistress--Cæsar's and
others'--yet mingles with the odour of its roses! Now, prithee, Harmachis, =
how
far didst thou carry the matter on yonder balcony? for in that hole where I=
lay
hid I could not hear or see. 'Tis a sweet spot for lovers, is it not?--ay, =
and
a sweet hour, too? Venus surely rules the stars to-night?"
All of this she said so quietly and in so soft=
and
modest a way, though her words were not modest, and yet so bitterly, that e=
very
syllable cut me to the heart, and angered me till I could find no speech.
"Of a truth thou hast a wise economy,&quo=
t;
she went on, seeing her advantage: "to-night thou dost kiss the lips t=
hat
to-morrow thou shalt still for ever! It is frugal dealing with the occasion=
of
the moment; ay, worthy and honourable dealing!"
Then at last I broke forth. "Girl," I
cried, "how darest thou speak thus to me? Mindest thou who and what I =
am
that thou loosest thy peevish gibes upon me?"
"I mind what it behoves thee to be,"=
she
answered quick. "What thou art, that I mind not now. Surely thou knowe=
st
alone--thou and Cleopatra!"
"What meanest thou?" I said. "A=
m I
to blame if the Queen----"
"The Queen! What have we here? Pharaoh ow=
ns a
Queen!"
"If Cleopatra wills to come hither of a n=
ight
and talk----"
"Of stars, Harmachis--surely of stars and
roses, and naught beside!"
After that I know not what I said; for, troubl=
ed
as I was, the girl's bitter tongue and quiet way drove me wellnigh to madne=
ss.
But this I know: I spoke so fiercely that she cowered before me as she had
cowered before my uncle Sepa when he rated her because of her Grecian garb.=
And
as she wept then, so she wept now, only more passionately and with great so=
bs.
At length I ceased, half-shamed but still angry
and smarting sorely. For even while she wept she could find a tongue to ans=
wer
with--and a woman's shafts are sharp.
"Thou shouldst not speak to me thus!"
she sobbed; "it is cruel--it is unmanly! But I forget thou art but a
priest, not a man--except, mayhap, for Cleopatra!"
"What right hast thou?" I said.
"What canst thou mean?"
"What right have I?" she asked, look=
ing
up, her dark eyes all aflood with tears that ran down her sweet face like t=
he
dew of morning down a lily's heart. "What right have I? O Harmachis! a=
rt
thou blind? Didst thou not know by what right I speak thus to thee? Then I =
must
tell thee. Well, it is the fashion in Alexandria! By that first and holy ri=
ght
of woman--by the right of the great love I bear thee, and which, it seems, =
thou
hast no eyes to see--by the right of my glory and my shame. Oh, be not wroth
with me, Harmachis, nor set me down as light, because the truth at last has
burst from me; for I am not so. I am what thou wilt make me. I am the wax
within the moulder's hands, and as thou dost fashion me so I shall be. There
breathes within me now a breath of glory, blowing across the waters of my s=
oul,
that can waft me to ends more noble than ever I have dreamed afore, if thou
wilt be my pilot and my guide. But if I lose thee, then I lose all that hol=
ds
me from my worse self--and let shipwreck come! Thou knowest me not, Harmach=
is!
thou canst not see how big a spirit struggles in this frail form of mine! T=
o thee
I am a girl, clever, wayward, shallow. But I am more! Show me thy loftiest
thought and I will match it, the deepest puzzle of thy mind and I will make=
it
clear. Of one blood we are, and love can ravel up our little difference and
make us grow one indeed. One end we have, one land we love, one vow binds us
both. Take me to thy heart, Harmachis, set me by thee on the Double Throne,=
and
I swear that I will lift thee higher than ever man has climbed. Reject me, =
and
beware lest I pull thee down! And now, putting aside the cold delicacy of
custom, stung to it by what I saw of the arts of that lovely living falseho=
od,
Cleopatra, which for pastime she practises on thy folly, I have spoken out =
my
heart, and answer thou!" And she clasped her hands and, drawing one pa=
ce
nearer, gazed, all white and trembling, on my face.
For a moment I stood struck dumb, for the magi=
c of
her voice and the power of her speech, despite myself, stirred me like the =
rush
of music. Had I loved the woman, doubtless she might have fired me with her
flame; but I loved her not, and I could not play at passion. And so thought=
came,
and with thought that laughing mood, which is ever apt to fashion upon nerv=
es strained
to the point of breaking. In a flash, as it were, I bethought me of the way=
in
which she had that very night forced the wreath of roses on my head, I thou=
ght
of the kerchief and how I had flung it forth. I thought of Charmion in the
little chamber watching what she held to be the arts of Cleopatra, and of h=
er
bitter speeches. Lastly, I thought of what my uncle Sepa would say of her c=
ould
he see her now, and of the strange and tangled skein in which I was inmeshe=
d. And
I laughed aloud--the fool's laughter that was my knell of ruin!
She turned whiter yet--white as the dead--and a
look grew upon her face that checked my foolish mirth. "Thou findest,
then, Harmachis," she said in a low, choked voice, and dropping the le=
vel
of her eyes, "thou findest cause of merriment in what I have said?&quo=
t;
"Nay," I answered; "nay, Charmi=
on;
forgive me if I laughed. It was rather a laugh of despair; for what am I to=
say
to thee? Thou hast spoken high words of all thou mightest be: is it left fo=
r me
to tell thee what thou art?"
She shrank, and I paused.
"Speak," she said.
"Thou knowest--none so well!--who I am and
what my mission is: thou knowest--none so well!--that I am sworn to Isis, a=
nd
may, by law Divine, have naught to do with thee."
"Ay," she broke in, in her low voice,
and with her eyes still fixed upon the ground--"ay, and I know that thy
vows are broken in spirit, if not in form--broken like wreaths of cloud; fo=
r,
Harmachis--thou lovest Cleopatra!"
"It is a lie!" I cried. "Thou
wanton girl, who wouldst seduce me from my duty and put me to an open
shame!--who, led by passion or ambition, or the love of evil, hast not sham=
ed
to break the barriers of thy sex and speak as thou hast spoken--beware lest
thou go too far! And if thou wilt have an answer, here it is, put straightl=
y,
as thy question. Charmion, outside the matter of my duty and my vows, thou =
art
naught to me!--nor for all thy tender glances will my heart beat one pulse =
more
fast! Hardly art thou now my friend--for, of a truth, I scarce can trust th=
ee. But,
once more: beware! To me thou mayest do thy worst; but if thou dost dare to
lift a finger against our cause, that day thou diest! And now, is this play
done?"
And as, wild with anger, I spoke thus, she shr=
ank
back, and yet further back, till at length she rested against the wall, her
eyes covered with her hand. But when I ceased she dropped her hand, glancing
up, and her face was as the face of a statue, in which the great eyes glowed
like embers, and round them was a ring of purple shadow.
"Not altogether done," she answered
gently; "the arena must yet be sanded!" This she said having
reference to the covering up of the bloodstains at the gladiatorial shows w=
ith
fine sand. "Well," she went on, "waste not thine anger on a
thing so vile. I have thrown my throw and I have lost. Væ victis!--ah! Væ
victis! Wilt thou not lend me the dagger in thy robe, that here and now I m=
ay
end my shame? No? Then one word more, most royal Harmachis: if thou canst,
forget my folly; but, at the least, have no fear from me. I am now, as ever,
thy servant and the servant of our cause. Farewell!"
And she went, leaning her hand against the wal=
l.
But I, passing to my chamber, flung myself upon my couch, and groaned in
bitterness of spirit. Alas! we shape our plans, and by slow degrees build up
our house of Hope, never counting on the guests that time shall bring to lo=
dge therein.
For who can guard against--the Unforeseen?
At length I slept, and my dreams were evil. Wh=
en I
woke the light of the day which should see the red fulfilment of the plot w=
as
streaming through the casement, and the birds sang merrily among the garden
palms. I woke, and as I woke the sense of trouble pressed in upon me, for I=
remembered
that before this day was gathered to the past I must dip my hands in blood-=
-yes,
in the blood of Cleopatra, who trusted me! Why could I not hate her as I
should? There had been a time when I looked on to this act of vengeance with
somewhat of a righteous glow of zeal. And now--and now--why, I would frankly
give my royal birthright to be free from its necessity! But, alas! I knew t=
hat
there was no escape. I must drain this cup or be for ever cast away. I felt=
the
eyes of Egypt watching me, and the eyes of Egypt's Gods. I prayed to my Mot=
her
Isis to give me strength to do this deed, and prayed as I had never prayed =
before;
and oh, wonder! no answer came. Nay, how was this? What, then, had loosed t=
he
link between us that, for the first time, the Goddess deigned no reply to h=
er
son and chosen servant? Could it be that I had sinned in heart against her?
What had Charmion said--that I loved Cleopatra? Was this sickness love? Nay=
! a
thousand times nay!--it was but the revolt of Nature against an act of
treachery and blood. The Goddess did but try my strength, or perchance she =
also
turned her holy countenance from murder?
I rose filled with terror and despair, and went
about my task like a man without a soul. I conned the fatal lists and noted=
all
the plans--ay, in my brain I gathered up the very words of that proclamatio=
n of
my Royalty which, on the morrow, I should issue to the startled world.
"Citizens of Alexandria and dwellers in t=
he
land of Egypt," it began, "Cleopatra the Macedonian hath, by the
command of the Gods, suffered justice for her crimes----"
All these and other things I did, but I did th=
em
as a man without a soul--as a man moved by a force from without and not from
within. And so the minutes wore away. In the third hour of the afternoon I =
went
as by appointment fixed to the house where my uncle Sepa lodged, that same =
house
to which I had been brought some three months gone when I entered Alexandria
for the first time. And here I found the leaders of the revolt in the city
assembled in secret conclave to the number of seven. When I had entered, and
the doors were barred, they prostrated themselves, and cried, "Hail,
Pharaoh!" but I bade them rise, saying that I was not yet Pharaoh, for=
the
chicken was still in the egg.
"Yea, Prince," said my uncle, "=
but
his beak shows through. Not in vain hath Egypt brooded all these years, if =
thou
fail not with that dagger-stroke of thine to-night; and how canst thou fail?
Nothing can now stop our course to victory!"
"It is on the knees of the Gods," I
answered.
"Nay," he said, "the Gods have
placed the issue in the hands of a mortal--in thy hands, Harmachis!--and th=
ere
it is safe. See: here are the last lists. Thirty-one thousand men who bear =
arms
are sworn to rise when the tidings come to them. Within five days every cit=
adel
in Egypt will be in our hands, and then what have we to fear? From Rome but=
little,
for her hands are full; and, besides, we will make alliance with the
Triumvirate, and, if need be, buy them off. For of money there is plenty in=
the
land, and if more be wanted thou, Harmachis, knowest where it is stored aga=
inst
the need of Khem, and outside the Roman's reach of arm. Who is there to harm
us? There is none. Perchance, in this turbulent city, there may be struggle,
and a counter-plot to bring Arsinoë to Egypt and set her on the throne.
Therefore Alexandria must be severely dealt with--ay, even to destruction, =
if
need be. As for Arsinoë, those go forth to-morrow on the news of the Queen's
death who shall slay her secretly."
"There remains the lad Cæsarion," I
said. "Rome might claim through Cæsar's son, and the child of Cleopatra
inherits Cleopatra's rights. Here is a double danger."
"Fear not," said my uncle;
"to-morrow Cæsarion joins those who begat him in Amenti. I have made
provision. The Ptolemies must be stamped out, so that no shoot shall ever
spring from that root blasted by Heaven's vengeance."
"Is there no other means?" I asked
sadly. "My heart is sick at the promise of this red rain of blood. I k=
now
the child well; he has Cleopatra's fire and beauty and great Cæsar's wit. It
were shame to murder him."
"Nay, be not so chicken-hearted,
Harmachis," said my uncle, sternly. "What ails thee, then? If the=
lad
is thus, the more reason that he should die. Wouldst thou nurse up a young =
lion
to tear thee from the throne?"
"Be it so," I answered, sighing.
"At least he is spared much, and will go hence innocent of evil. Now f=
or
the plans."
We sat long taking counsel, till at length, in
face of the great emergency and our high emprise, I felt something of the
spirit of former days flow back into my heart. At the last all was ordered,=
and
so ordered that it could scarce miscarry, for it was fixed that if by any c=
hance
I could not come to slay Cleopatra on this night, then the plot should hang=
in
the scale till the morrow, when the deed must be done upon occasion. For the
death of Cleopatra was the signal. These matters being finished, once more =
we
stood and, our hands upon the sacred symbol, swore the oath that may not be
written. And then my uncle kissed me with tears of hope and joy standing in=
his
keen black eyes. He blessed me, saying that he would gladly give his life, =
ay,
and a hundred lives, if they were his, if he might but live to see Egypt on=
ce
more a nation, and me, Harmachis, the descendant of its royal and ancient b=
lood,
seated on the throne. For he was a patriot indeed, asking nothing for himse=
lf,
and giving all things to his cause. And I kissed him in turn, and thus we
parted. Nor did I ever see him more in the flesh who has earned the rest th=
at
as yet is denied to me.
So I went, and, there being yet time, walked s=
wiftly
from place to place in the great city, taking note of the positions of the
gates and of the places where our forces must be gathered. At length I came=
to
that quay where I had landed, and saw a vessel sailing for the open sea. I
looked, and in my heaviness of heart longed that I were aboard of her, to b=
e borne
by her white wings to some far shore where I might live obscure and die
forgotten. Also I saw another vessel that had dropped down the Nile, from w=
hose
deck the passengers were streaming. For a moment I stood watching them, idly
wondering if they were from Abouthis, when suddenly I heard a familiar voice
beside me.
"La! la!" said the voice. "Why,
what a city is this for an old woman to seek her fortune in! And how shall I
find those to whom I am known? As well look for the rush in the
papyrus-roll.[*] Begone! thou knave! and let my basket of simples lie; or, =
by
the Gods, I'll doctor thee with them!"
[=
*]
Papyrus was manufactured from the pith of rushes. Hence Atoua's saying.--Editor.
I turned, wondering, and found myself face to =
face
with my foster-nurse, Atoua. She knew me instantly, for I saw her start, bu=
t in
the presence of the people she checked her surprise.
"Good Sir," she whined, lifting her
withered countenance towards me, and at the same time making the secret sig=
n.
"By thy dress thou shouldst be an astronomer, and I was specially told=
to
avoid astronomers as a pack of lying tricksters who worship their own star
only; and, therefore, I speak to thee, acting on the principle of contrarie=
s,
which is law to us women. For surely in this Alexandria, where all things a=
re
upside down, the astronomers may be the honest men, since the rest are clea=
rly knaves."
And then, being by now out of earshot of the press, "royal Harmachis, =
I am
come charged with a message to thee from thy father Amenemhat."
"Is he well?" I asked.
"Yes, he is well, though waiting for the
moment tries him sorely."
"And his message?"
"It is this. He sends greeting to thee and
with it warning that a great danger threatens thee, though he cannot read i=
t.
These are his words: 'Be steadfast and prosper.'"
I bowed my head and the words struck a new chi=
ll
of fear into my soul.
"When is the time?" she asked.
"This very night. Where goest thou?"=
"To the house of the honourable Sepa, Pri=
est
of Annu. Canst thou guide me thither?"
"Nay, I may not stay; nor is it wise that=
I
should be seen with thee. Hold!" and I called a porter who was idling =
on
the quay, and, giving him a piece of money, bade him guide the old wife to =
the
house.
"Farewell," she whispered;
"farewell till to-morrow. Be steadfast and prosper."
Then I turned and went my way through the crow=
ded
streets, where the people made place for me, the astronomer of Cleopatra, f=
or
my fame had spread abroad.
And even as I went my footsteps seemed to beat=
Be
steadfast, Be steadfast, Be steadfast, till at last it was as though the ve=
ry
ground cried out its warning to me.
It was night, and I sat alone in my chamber,
waiting the moment when, as it was agreed, Charmion should summon me to pass
down to Cleopatra. I sat alone, and there before me lay the dagger that was=
to
pierce her. It was long and keen, and the handle was formed of a sphinx of
solid gold. I sat alone, questioning the future, but no answer came. At len=
gth
I looked up, and Charmion stood before me--Charmion, no longer gay and brig=
ht,
but pale of face and hollow-eyed.
"Royal Harmachis," she said,
"Cleopatra summons thee, presently to declare to her the voices of the
stars."
So the hour had fallen!
"It is well, Charmion," I answered.
"Are all things in order?"
"Yea, my Lord; all things are in order: w=
ell
primed with wine, Paulus guards the gates, the eunuchs are withdrawn save o=
ne,
the legionaries sleep, and already Sepa and his force lie hid without. Noth=
ing
has been neglected, and no lamb skipping at the shamble doors can be more i=
nnocent
of its doom than is Queen Cleopatra."
"It is well," I said again; "le=
t us
be going," and rising, I placed the dagger in the bosom of my robe. Ta=
king
a cup of wine that stood near, I drank deep of it, for I had scarce tasted =
food
all that day.
"One word," Charmion said hurriedly,
"for it is not yet time: last night--ah, last night--" and her bo=
som
heaved, "I dreamed a dream that haunts me strangely, and perchance thou
also didst dream a dream. It was all a dream and 'tis forgotten: is it not =
so,
my Lord?"
"Yes, yes," I said; "why troubl=
est
thou me thus at such an hour?"
"Nay, I know not; but to-night, Harmachis,
Fate is in labour of a great event, and in her painful throes mayhap she'll
crush me in her grip--me or thee, or the twain of us, Harmachis. And if tha=
t be
so--well, I would hear from thee, before it is done, that 'twas naught but a
dream, and that dream forgot----"
"Yes, it is all a dream," I said idl=
y;
"thou and I, and the solid earth, and this heavy night of terror, ay, =
and
this keen knife--what are these but dreams, and with what face shall the wa=
king
come?"
"So now, thou fallest in my humour, royal
Harmachis. As thou sayest, we dream; and while we dream yet can the vision
change. For the phantasies of dreams are wonderful, seeing that they have no
stability, but vary like the vaporous edge of sunset clouds, building now t=
his
thing, and now that; being now dark and heavy, and now alight with splendou=
r. Therefore,
before we wake to-morrow tell me one word. Is that vision of last night,
wherein I seemed to be quite shamed, and thou didst seem to laugh upon my
shame, a fixed phantasy, or can it, perchance, yet change its countenance? =
For
remember, when that waking comes, the vagaries of our sleep will be more
unalterable and more enduring than are the pyramids. Then they will be gath=
ered
into that changeless region of the past where all things, great and small--=
ay,
even dreams, Harmachis, are, each in its own semblance, frozen to stone and
built into the Tomb of Time immortal."
"Nay, Charmion," I replied, "I
grieve if I did pain thee; but over that vision comes no change. I said what
was in my heart and there's an end. Thou art my cousin and my friend, I can
never be more to thee."
"It is well--'tis very well," she sa=
id;
"let it be forgotten. And now on from dream--to dream," and she
smiled with such a smile as I had never seen her wear before; it was sadder=
and
more fateful than any stamp that grief can set upon the brow.
For, though being blinded by my own folly and =
the
trouble at my heart I knew it not, with that smile, the happiness of youth =
died
for Charmion the Egyptian; the hope of love fled; and the holy links of duty
burst asunder. With that smile she consecrated herself to Evil, she renounc=
ed her
Country and her Gods, and trampled on her oath. Ay, that smile marks the mo=
ment
when the stream of history changed its course. For had I never seen it on h=
er
face Octavianus had not bestridden the world, and Egypt had once more been =
free
and great.
And yet it was but a woman's smile!
"Why lookest thou thus strangely, girl?&q=
uot;
I asked.
"In dreams we smile," she answered.
"And now it is time; follow thou me. Be firm and prosper, royal
Harmachis!" and bending forward she took my hand and kissed it. Then, =
with
one strange last look, she turned and led the way down the stair and through
the empty halls.
In the chamber that is called the Alabaster Ha=
ll,
the roof of which is upborne by columns of black marble, we stayed. For bey=
ond
was the private chamber of Cleopatra, the same in which I had seen her
sleeping.
"Abide thou here," she said, "w=
hile
I tell Cleopatra of thy coming," and she glided from my side.
I stood for long, mayhap in all the half of an
hour, counting my own heart-beats, and, as in a dream, striving to gather u=
p my
strength to that which lay before me.
At length Charmion came back, her head held low
and walking heavily.
"Cleopatra waits thee," she said:
"pass on, there is no guard."
"Where do I meet thee when what must be d=
one
is done?" I asked hoarsely.
"Thou meetest me here, and then to Paulus=
. Be
firm and prosper. Harmachis, fare thee well!"
And so I went; but at the curtain I turned
suddenly, and there in the midst of that lonely lamplit hall I saw a strange
sight. Far away, in such a fashion that the light struck full upon her, sto=
od
Charmion, her head thrown back, her white arms outstretched as though to cl=
asp,
and on her girlish face a stamp of anguished passion so terrible to see tha=
t, indeed,
I cannot tell it! For she believed that I, whom she loved, was passing to my
death, and this was her last farewell to me.
But I knew naught of this matter; so with anot=
her
passing pang of wonder I drew aside the curtains, gained the doorway, and s=
tood
in Cleopatra's chamber. And there, upon a silken couch at the far end of the
perfumed chamber, clad in wonderful white attire, rested Cleopatra. In her =
hand
was a jewelled fan of ostrich plumes, with which she gently fanned herself,=
and
by her side was her harp of ivory, and a little table whereon were figs and
goblets and a flask of ruby-coloured wine. I drew near slowly through the s=
oft
dim light to where the Wonder of the World lay in all her glowing beauty. A=
nd,
indeed, I have never seen her look so fair as she did upon that fatal night.
Couched in her amber cushions, she seemed to shine as a star on the twiligh=
t's glow.
Perfume came from her hair and robes, music fell from her lips, and in her
heavenly eyes all lights changed and gathered as in the ominous opal's disc=
.
And this was the woman whom, presently, I must
slay!
Slowly I drew near, bowing as I came; but she =
took
no heed. She lay there, and the jewelled fan floated to and fro like the br=
ight
wing of some hovering bird.
At length I stood before her, and she glanced =
up,
the ostrich-plumes pressed against her breast as though to hide its beauty.=
"What! friend; art thou come?" she s=
aid.
"It is well; for I grew lonely here. Nay; 'tis a weary world! We know =
so
many faces, and there are so few whom we love to see again. Well, stand not
there so mute, but be seated." And she pointed with her fan to a carven
chair that was placed near her feet.
Once more I bowed and took the seat.
"I have obeyed the Queen's desire," I
said, "and with much care and skill worked out the lessons of the star=
s;
and here is the record of my labour. If the Queen permits, I will expound i=
t to
her." And I rose, in order that I might pass round the couch and, as s=
he
read, stab her in the back.
"Nay, Harmachis," she said quietly, =
and
with a slow and lovely smile. "Bide thou where thou art, and give me t=
he
writing. By Serapis! thy face is too comely for me to wish to lose the sigh=
t of
it!"
Checked in this design, I could do nothing but
hand her the papyrus, thinking to myself that while she read I would arise
suddenly and plunge the dagger to her heart. She took it, and as she did so
touched my hand. Then she made pretence to read. But she read no word, for I
saw that her eyes were fixed upon me over the edge of the scroll.
"Why placest thou thy hand within thy
robe?" she asked presently; for, indeed, I clutched the dagger's hilt.
"Is thy heart stirred?"
"Yea, O Queen," I said; "it bea=
ts
high."
She gave no answer, but once more made pretenc=
e to
read, and the while she watched me.
I took counsel with myself. How should I do the
hateful deed? If I flung myself upon her now she would see me and scream and
struggle. Nay, I must wait a chance.
"The auguries are favourable, then,
Harmachis?" she said at length, though this she must have guessed.
"Yes, O Queen," I answered.
"It is well," and she cast the writi=
ng
on the marble. "The ships shall sail. For, good or bad, I am weary of
weighing chances."
"This is a heavy matter, O Queen," I
said. "I had wished to show upon what circumstance I base my
forecast."
"Nay, not so, Harmachis; I have wearied of
the ways of stars. Thou hast prophesied; that is enough for me; for, doubtl=
ess,
being honest, thou hast written honestly. Therefore, save thou thy reasons =
and
we'll be merry. What shall we do? I could dance to thee--there are none who=
can
dance so well!--but it would scarce be queenly. Nay, I have it. I will sing=
."
And, leaning forward, she raised herself, and, bending the harp towards her,
struck some wandering chords. Then her low voice broke out in perfect and m=
ost
sweet song.
And thus she sang:
"Night on the sea, and night upon the sky, And
music in our hearts, we floated there, Lulled by the low sea voices, thou a=
nd I, And the wind's kisses in my cloudy h=
air: And thou didst gaze on me and call me
fair-- Enfolded by the starry =
robe
of night-- And then thy singing
thrilled upon the air, Voice o=
f the
heart's desire and Love's delight.
'Adrift, with starlit skies above, With starlit seas below, We move with all the suns that move,=
With all the seas that flow; For bond or free, Earth, Sky, and Se=
a, Wheel with one circling will, And thy heart drifteth on to me,
B=
etween
two shores of Death we drift, =
Behind
are things forgot: Before the =
tide
is driving swift To lands beho=
lden
not. Above, the sky is far and=
cold;
Below, the moaning sea Sweeps o'er the loves that were of o=
ld, But, oh, Love! kiss thou me.
A=
h,
lonely are the ocean ways, And
dangerous the deep, And frail =
the
fairy barque that strays Above=
the
seas asleep! Ah, toil no more =
at
sail nor oar, We drift, or bon=
d or
free; On yon far shore the bre=
akers
roar, But, oh, Love! kiss thou=
me.'
"And ever as thou sangest I drew near, Then sudden silence heard our hearts=
that
beat, For now there was an end=
of
doubt and fear, Now passion fi=
lled
my soul and led my feet; Then =
silent
didst thou rise thy love to meet, Who, sinking on thy breast, knew nau=
ght
but thee, And in the happy nig=
ht I
kissed thee, Sweet; Ah, Sweet!
between the starlight and the sea."
The last echoes of her rich notes floated down=
the
chamber, and slowly died away; but in my heart they rolled on and on. I have
heard among the women-singers at Abouthis voices more perfect than the voic=
e of
Cleopatra, but never have I heard one so thrilling or so sweet with passion=
's
honey-notes. And indeed it was not the voice alone, it was the perfumed cha=
mber
in which was set all that could move the sense; it was the passion of the t=
hought
and words, and the surpassing grace and loveliness of that most royal woman=
who
sang them. For, as she sang, I seemed to think that we twain were indeed
floating alone with the night, upon the starlit summer sea. And when she ce=
ased
to touch the harp, and, rising, suddenly stretched out her arms towards me,=
and
with the last low notes of song yet quivering upon her lips, let fall the
wonder of her eyes upon my eyes, she almost drew me to her. But I remembere=
d,
and would not.
"Hast thou, then, no word of thanks for my
poor singing, Harmachis?" she said at length.
"Yea, O Queen," I answered, speaking
very low, for my voice was choked; "but thy songs are not good for the
sons of men to hear--of a truth they overwhelm me!"
"Nay, Harmachis; there is no fear for
thee," she said laughing softly, "seeing that I know how far thy
thoughts are set from woman's beauty and the common weakness of thy sex. Wi=
th
cold iron we may safely toy."
I thought within myself that coldest iron can =
be
brought to whitest heat if the fire be fierce enough. But I said nothing, a=
nd,
though my hand trembled, I once more grasped the dagger's hilt, and, wild w=
ith
fear at my own weakness, set myself to find a means to slay her while yet m=
y sense
remained.
"Come hither, Harmachis," she went o=
n,
in her softest voice. "Come, sit by me, and we will talk together; for=
I
have much to tell thee," and she made place for me at her side upon the
silken seat.
And I, thinking that I might so more swiftly
strike, rose and seated myself some little way from her on the couch, while,
flinging back her head, she gazed on me with her slumbrous eyes.
Now was my occasion, for her throat and breast
were bare, and, with a mighty effort, once again I lifted my hand to clutch=
the
dagger-hilt. But, more quick than thought, she caught my fingers with her o=
wn
and gently held them.
"Why lookest thou so wildly, Harmachis?&q=
uot;
she said. "Art sick?"
"Ay, sick indeed!" I gasped.
"Then lean thou on the cushions and rest
thee," she answered, still holding my hand, from which the strength had
fled. "The fit will surely pass. Too long hast thou laboured with thy
stars. How soft is the night air that flows from yonder casement heavy with=
the
breath of lilies! Hark to the whisper of the sea lapping against the rocks,
that, though it is faint, yet, being so strong, doth almost drown the quick
cool fall of yonder fountain. List to Philomel; how sweet from a full heart=
of love
she sings her message to her dear! Indeed it is a lovely night, and most
beautiful is Nature's music, sung with a hundred voices from wind and trees=
and
birds and ocean's wrinkled lips, and yet sung all to tune. Listen, Harmachi=
s: I
have guessed something concerning thee. Thou, too, art of a royal race; no
humble blood pours in those veins of thine. Surely such a shoot could spring
but from the stock of Princes? What! gazest thou at the leafmark on my brea=
st?
It was pricked there in honour of great Osiris, whom with thee I worship.
See!"
"Let me hence," I groaned, striving =
to
rise; but all my strength had gone.
"Nay, not yet awhile. Thou wouldst not le=
ave
me yet? thou canst not leave me yet. Harmachis, hast thou never loved?"=
;
"Nay, nay, O Queen! What have I to do with
love? Let me hence!--I am faint--I am fordone!"
"Never to have loved--'tis strange! Never=
to
have known some woman-heart beat all in tune to thine--never to have seen t=
he
eyes of thy adored aswim with passion's tears, as she sighed her vows upon =
thy breast!--Never
to have loved!--never to have lost thyself in the mystery of another's soul=
; nor
to have learned how Nature can overcome our naked loneliness, and with the
golden web of love of twain weave one identity! Why, it is never to have li=
ved,
Harmachis!"
And ever as she murmured she drew nearer to me,
till at last, with a long, sweet sigh, she flung one arm about my neck, and
gazed upon me with blue, unfathomable eyes, and smiled her dark, slow smile,
that, like an opening flower, revealed beauty within beauty hidden. Nearer =
she
bent her queenly form, and still more near--now her perfumed breath played =
upon
my hair, and now her lips met mine.
And woe is me! In that kiss, more deadly and m=
ore
strong than the embrace of Death, were forgotten Isis, my heavenly Hope, Oa=
ths,
Honour, Country, Friends, all things--all things save that Cleopatra claspe=
d me
in her arms, and called me Love and Lord.
"Now pledge me," she sighed;
"pledge me one cup of wine in token of thy love."
I took the draught, and I drank deep; then too
late I knew that it was drugged.
I fell upon the couch, and, though my senses s=
till
were with me, I could neither speak nor rise.
But Cleopatra, bending over me, drew the dagger
from my robe.
"I've won!" she cried, shaking back =
her
long hair. "I've won, and for the stake of Egypt, why, 'twas a game wo=
rth
playing! With this dagger, then, thou wouldst have slain me, O my royal Riv=
al,
whose myrmidons even now are gathered at my palace gate? Art still awake? N=
ow
what hinders me that I should not plunge it to thy heart?"
I heard and feebly pointed to my breast, for I=
was
fain to die. She drew herself to the full of her imperial height, and the g=
reat
knife glittered in her hand. Down it came till its edge pricked my flesh.
"Nay," she cried again, and cast it =
from
her, "too well I like thee. It were pity to slay such a man! I give th=
ee
thy life. Live on, lost Pharaoh! Live on, poor fallen Prince, blasted by a
woman's wit! Live on, Harmachis--to adorn my triumph!"
Then sight left me; and in my ears I only heard
the song of the nightingale, the murmur of the sea, and the music of Cleopa=
tra's
laugh of victory. And as I sank away, the sound of that low laugh still fol=
lowed
me into the land of sleep, and still it follows me through life to death.
Once more I woke; it was to find myself in my =
own
chamber. I started up. Surely, I, too, had dreamed a dream? It could be not=
hing
but a dream? It could not be that I woke to know myself a traitor! That the=
opportunity
had gone for ever! That I had betrayed the cause, and that last night those
brave men, headed by my uncle, had waited in vain at the outer gate! That E=
gypt
from Abu to Athu was even now waiting--waiting in vain! Nay, whatever else
might be, this could not be! Oh, it was an awful dream which I had dreamed!=
a
second such would slay a man. It were better to die than face such another
vision sent from hell. But, though the thing was naught but a hateful phant=
asy
of a mind o'er-strained, where was I now? Where was I now? I should be in t=
he Alabaster
Hall, waiting till Charmion came forth.
Where was I? and O ye Gods! what was that drea=
dful
thing, whose shape was the shape of a man?--that thing draped in bloodstain=
ed
white and huddled in a hideous heap at the foot of the couch on which I see=
med
to lie?
I sprang at it with a shriek, as a lion spring=
s,
and struck with all my strength. The blow fell heavily, and beneath its wei=
ght
the thing rolled over upon its side. Half mad with terror, I rent away the
white covering; and there, his knees bound beneath his hanging jaw, was the=
naked
body of a man--and that man the Roman Captain Paulus! There he lay, through=
his
heart a dagger--my dagger, handled with the sphinx of gold!--and pinned by =
its
blade to his broad breast a scroll, and on the scroll, writing in the Roman
character. I drew near and read, and this was the writing:
HARMACHIDI.SALVERE.EGO.SUM.QUEM.SUBDERE.NORAS =
PAULUS.ROMANUS.DISCE.HINC.QUID.PRODERE.PROSIT.
"Greeting, Harmachis! I was that Roman Pa=
ulus
whom thou didst suborn. Learn now how blessed are traitors!"
Sick and faint I staggered back from the sight=
of
that white corpse stained with its own blood. Sick and faint I staggered ba=
ck,
till the wall stayed me, while without the birds sang a merry greeting to t=
he day.
So it was no dream, and I was lost! lost!
I thought of my aged father, Amenemhat. Yes, t=
he
vision of him flashed into my mind, as he would be, when they came to tell =
him
his son's shame and the ruin of all his hopes. I thought of that patriot pr=
iest,
my uncle Sepa, waiting the long night through for the signal which never ca=
me.
Ah, and another thought followed swift! How would it go with them? I was not
the only traitor. I, too, had been betrayed. By whom? By yonder Paulus,
perchance. If it were Paulus, he knew but little of those who conspired with
me. But the secret lists had been in my robe. O Osiris! they were gone! and=
the
fate of Paulus would be the fate of all the patriots in Egypt. And at this
thought my mind gave way. I sank and swooned even where I stood.
My sense came back to me, and the lengthening
shadows told me that it was afternoon. I staggered to my feet; the corpse of
Paulus was still there, keeping its awful watch above me. I ran desperately=
to
the door. It was barred, and without I heard the tramp of sentinels. As I s=
tood
they challenged and grounded their spears. Then the bolts were shot back, t=
he
door opened, and radiant, clad in royal attire, came the conquering Cleopat=
ra.
She came alone, and the door was shut behind her. I stood like one distraug=
ht;
but she swept on till she was face to face with me.
"Greeting, Harmachis," she said, smi=
ling
sweetly. "So, my messenger has found thee!" and she pointed to the
corpse of Paulus. "Pah! he has an ugly look. Ho! guards!"
The door was opened, and two armed Gauls stepp=
ed
across the threshold.
"Take away this carrion," said
Cleopatra, "and fling it to the kites. Stay, draw that dagger from his
traitor breast." The men bowed low, and the knife, rusted red with blo=
od,
was dragged from the heart of Paulus and laid upon the table. Then they sei=
zed
him by the head and body and staggered thence, and I heard their heavy
footfalls as they bore him down the stairs.
"Methinks, Harmachis, thou art in an evil
case," she said, when the sound of the footfalls had died away. "=
How
strangely the wheel of Fortune turns! But for that traitor," and she
nodded towards the door through which the corpse of Paulus had been carried,
"I should now be as ill a thing to look on as he is, and the red rust =
on
yonder knife would have been gathered from my heart."
So it was Paulus who had betrayed me.
"Ay," she went on, "and when th=
ou
camest to me last night, I knew that thou camest to slay. When, time upon t=
ime,
thou didst place thy hand within thy robe, I knew that it grasped a dagger
hilt, and that thou wast gathering thy courage to the deed which thou didst
little love to do. Oh! it was a strange wild hour, well worth the living, a=
nd I
wondered greatly, from moment to moment, which of us twain would conquer, a=
s we
matched guile with guile and force to force!
"Yea, Harmachis, the guards tramp before =
thy
door, but be not deceived. Did I not know that I hold thee to me by bonds m=
ore
strong than prison chains--did I not know that I am hedged from ill at thy
hands by a fence of honour harder for thee to pass than all the spears of a=
ll
my legions, thou hadst been dead ere now, Harmachis. See, here is thy
knife," and she handed me the dagger; "now slay me if thou
canst," and she drew near, tore open the bosom of her robe, and stood
waiting with calm eyes.
"Thou canst not slay me," she went o=
n;
"for there are things, as I know well, that no man--no man such as thou
art--may do and live: and this is the chief of them--to slay the woman who =
is
all his own. Nay, stay thy hand! Turn not that dagger against thy breast, f=
or
if thou mayst not slay me, by how much more mayst thou not slay thyself, O =
thou
forsworn Priest of Isis! Art thou, then, so eager to face that outraged Maj=
esty
in Amenti? With what eyes, thinkest thou, will the Heavenly Mother look upon
Her son, who, shamed in all things and false to his most sacred vow, comes =
to
greet Her, his life-blood on his hands? Where, then, will be the space for =
thy
atonement?--if, indeed, thou mayest atone!"
Then I could bear no more, for my heart was
broken. Alas! it was too true--I dared not die! I was come to such a pass t=
hat
I did not even dare to die! I flung myself upon the couch and wept--wept te=
ars
of blood and anguish.
But Cleopatra came to me, and, seating herself
beside me, she strove to comfort me, throwing her arms about my neck.
"Nay, love, look up," she said;
"all is not lost for thee, nor am I angered against thee. We did play a
mighty game; but, as I warned thee, I matched my woman's magic against thin=
e,
and I have conquered. But I will be open with thee. Both as Queen and woman
thou hast my pity--ay, and more; nor do I love to see thee plunged in sorro=
w.
It was well and right that thou shouldst strive to win back that throne my
fathers seized, and the ancient liberty of Egypt. Myself as lawful Queen ha=
d done
the same, nor shrunk from the deed of darkness to which I was sworn. Therei=
n,
then, thou hast my sympathy, that ever goes out to what is great and bold. =
It
is well also that thou shouldst grieve over the greatness of thy fall. Ther=
ein,
then, as woman--as loving woman--thou hast my sympathy. Nor is all lost. Thy
plan was foolish--for, as I hold, Egypt could never have stood alone--for
though thou hadst won the crown and country--as without a doubt thou must h=
ave
done--yet there was the Roman to be reckoned with. And for thy hope learn t=
his:
I am little known. There is no heart in this wide land that beats with a tr=
uer love
for ancient Khem than does this heart of mine--nay, not thine own, Harmachi=
s.
Yet I have been heavily shackled heretofore--for wars, rebellions, envies,
plots, have hemmed me in on every side, so that I might not serve my people=
as
I would. But thou, Harmachis, shalt show me how. Thou shalt be my counsellor
and my love. Is it a little thing, Harmachis, to have won the heart of
Cleopatra; that heart--fie on thee!--that thou wouldst have stilled? Yes, t=
hou
shalt unite me to my people and we will reign together, thus linking in one=
the
new kingdom and the old and the new thought and the old. So do all things w=
ork
for good--ay, for the very best: and thus, by another and a gentler road, t=
hou
shalt climb to Pharaoh's throne.
"See thou this, Harmachis: thy treachery
shall be cloaked about as much as may be. Was it, then, thy fault that a Ro=
man
knave betrayed thy plans? that, thereon, thou wast drugged, thy secret pape=
rs
stolen and their key guessed? Will it, then, be a blame to thee, the great =
plot
being broken and those who built it scattered, that thou, still faithful to=
thy
trust, didst serve thee of such means as Nature gave thee, and win the hear=
t of
Egypt's Queen, that, through her gentle love, thou mightest yet attain thy =
ends
and spread thy wings of power across the land of Nile? Am I an ill-counsell=
or,
thinkest thou, Harmachis?"
I lifted my head, and a ray of hope crept into=
the
darkness of my heart; for when men fall they grasp at feathers. Then, I spo=
ke
for the first time:
"And those with me--those who trusted
me--what of them?"
"Ay," she answered, "Amenemhat,=
thy
father, the aged Priest of Abouthis; and Sepa, thy uncle, that fiery patrio=
t,
whose great heart is hid beneath so common a shell of form; and----"
I thought she would have said Charmion, but she
named her not.
"And many others--oh, I know them all!&qu=
ot;
"Ay!" I said, "what of them?&qu=
ot;
"Hear now, Harmachis," she answered,
rising and placing her hand upon my arm, "for thy sake I will show mer=
cy
to them. I will do no more than must be done. I swear by my throne and by a=
ll
the Gods of Egypt that not one hair of thy aged father's head shall be harm=
ed
by me; and, if it be not too late, I will also spare thy uncle Sepa, ay, and
the others. I will not do as did my forefather, Epiphanes, who, when the
Egyptians rose against him, dragged Athinis, Pausiras, Chesuphus, and
Irobasthus, bound to his chariot--not as Achilles dragged Hector, but yet l=
iving--round
the city walls. I will spare them all, save the Hebrews, if there be any
Hebrews; for the Jews I hate."
"There are no Hebrews," I said.
"It is well," she said, "for no
Hebrew will I ever spare. Am I then, indeed, so cruel a woman as they say? =
In
thy list, Harmachis, were many doomed to die; and I have but taken the life=
of
one Roman knave, a double traitor, for he betrayed both me and thee. Art th=
ou
not overwhelmed, Harmachis, with the weight of mercy which I give thee, bec=
ause--such
are a woman's reasons--thou pleasest me, Harmachis? Nay, by Serapis!" =
she
added with a little laugh, "I'll change my mind; I will not give thee =
so
much for nothing. Thou shalt buy it from me, and the price shall be a heavy
one--it shall be a kiss, Harmachis."
"Nay," I said, turning from that fair
temptress, "the price is too heavy; I kiss no more."
"Bethink thee," she answered, with a
heavy frown. "Bethink thee and choose. I am but a woman, Harmachis, and
one who is not wont to sue to men. Do as thou wilt; but this I say to thee-=
-if
thou dost put me away, I will gather up the mercy I have meted out. Therefo=
re,
most virtuous priest, choose thou between the heavy burden of my love and t=
he
swift death of thy aged father and of all those who plotted with him."=
I glanced at her and saw that she was angered,=
for
her eyes shone and her bosom heaved. So, I sighed and kissed her, thereby
setting the seal upon my shame and bondage. Then, smiling like the triumpha=
nt
Aphrodité of the Greeks, she went thence, bearing the dagger with her.
I knew not yet how deeply I was betrayed; or w=
hy I
was still left to draw the breath of life; or why Cleopatra, the tiger-hear=
ted,
had grown merciful. I did not know that she feared to slay me, lest, so str=
ong
was the plot and so feeble her hold upon the Double Crown, the tumult that =
might
tread hard upon the tidings of my murder should shake her from the throne--=
even
when I was no more. I did not know that because of fear and the weight of
policy only she showed scant mercy to those whom I had betrayed, or that
because of cunning and not for the holy sake of woman's love--though, in tr=
uth,
she liked me well enough--she chose rather to bind me to her by the fibres =
of
my heart. And yet I will say this in her behalf: even when the danger-cloud=
had
melted from her sky she kept faith, nor, save Paulus and one other, did any
suffer the utmost penalty of death for their part in the great plot against=
Cleopatra's
crown and dynasty. But they suffered many other things.
And so she went, leaving the vision of her glo=
ry
to strive with the shame and sorrow in my heart. Oh, bitter were the hours =
that
could not now be made light with prayer. For the link between me and the Di=
vine
was snapped, and Isis communed with Her Priest no more. Bitter were the hou=
rs
and dark, but ever through their darkness shone the starry eyes of Cleopatr=
a,
and came the echo of her whispered love. For not yet was the cup of sorrow
full. Hope still lingered in my heart, and I could almost think that I had
failed to some higher end, and that in the depths of ruin I should find ano=
ther
and more flowery path to triumph.
For thus those who sin deceive themselves,
striving to lay the burden of their evil deeds upon the back of Fate, striv=
ing
to believe their wickedness may compass good, and to murder Conscience with=
the
sharp plea of Necessity. But it can avail nothing, for hand in hand down th=
e path
of sin rush Remorse and Ruin, and woe to him they follow! Ay, and woe to me=
who
of all sinners am the chief!
For a space of eleven days I was thus kept
prisoned in my chamber; nor did I see anyone except the sentries at my door=
s,
the slaves who in silence brought me food and drink, and Cleopatra's self, =
who
came continually. But, though her words of love were many, she would tell m=
e nothing
of how things went without. She came in many moods--now gay and laughing, n=
ow
full of wise thoughts and speech, and now passionate only, and to every mood
she gave some new-found charm. She was full of talk as to how I should help=
her
make Egypt great, and lessen the burdens on the people, and fright the Roman
eagles back. And, though at first I listened heavily when she spoke thus, by
slow advance as she wrapped me closer and yet more close in her magic web, =
from
which there was no escape, my mind fell in time with hers. Then I, too, ope=
ned
something of my heart, and somewhat also of the plans that I had formed for
Egypt. She seemed to listen gladly, weighing them all, and spoke of means a=
nd
methods, telling me how she would purify the Faith and repair the ancient
temples--ay, and build new ones to the Gods. And ever she crept deeper into=
my
heart, till at length, now that every other thing had gone from me, I learn=
ed
to love her with all the unspent passion of my aching soul. I had naught le=
ft
to me but Cleopatra's love, and I twined my life about it, and brooded on i=
t as
a widow over her only babe. And thus the very author of my shame became my =
all,
my dearest dear, and I loved her with a strong love that grew and grew, til=
l it
seemed to swallow up the past and make the present a dream. For she had
conquered me, she had robbed me of my honour, and steeped me to the lips in
shame, and I, poor fallen, blinded wretch, I kissed the rod that smote me, =
and was
her very slave.
Ay, even now, in those dreams which still come
when Sleep unlocks the secret heart, and sets its terrors free to roam thro=
ugh
the opened halls of Thought, I seem to see her royal form, as erst I saw it,
come with arms outstretched and Love's own light shining in her eyes, with =
lips
apart and flowing locks, and stamped upon her face the look of utter tender=
ness
that she alone could wear. Ay, still, after all the years, I seem to see her
come as erst she came, and still I wake to know her an unutterable lie!
And thus one day she came. She had fled in has=
te,
she said, from some great council summoned concerning the wars of Antony in
Syria, and she came, as she had left the council, in all her robes of state,
the sceptre in her hand, and on her brow the uræus diadem of gold. There sh=
e sat
before me, laughing; for, wearying of them, she had told the envoys to whom=
she
gave audience in the council that she was called from their presence by a
sudden message come from Rome; and the jest seemed merry to her. Suddenly s=
he
rose, took the diadem from her brow, and set it on my hair, and on my shoul=
ders
her royal mantle, and in my hand the sceptre, and bowed the knee before me.
Then, laughing again, she kissed me on the lips, and said I was indeed her
King. But, remembering how I had been crowned in the halls of Abouthis, and
remembering also that wreath of roses of which the odour haunts me yet, I r=
ose,
pale with wrath, and cast the trinkets from me, asking how she dared to moc=
k me--her
caged bird. And I think there was that about me which startled her, for she
fell back.
"Nay, Harmachis," she said, "be=
not
wroth! How knowest thou that I mock thee? How knowest thou that thou shalt =
not
be Pharaoh in fact and deed?"
"What meanest thou?" I said. "W=
ilt
thou, then, wed me before Egypt? How else can I be Pharaoh now?"
She cast down her eyes. "Perchance, love,=
it
is in my mind to wed thee," she said gently. "Listen," she w=
ent
on: "Thou growest pale, here, in this prison, and thou dost eat little.
Gainsay me not! I know it from the slaves. I have kept thee here, Harmachis,
for thy own sake, that is so dear to me; and for thy own sake, and thy hono=
ur's
sake, thou must still seem to be my prisoner. Else wouldst thou be shamed a=
nd
slain--ay, murdered secretly. But I can meet thee here no more! therefore
to-morrow I shall free thee in all, save in the name, and thou shalt once m=
ore
be seen at Court as my astronomer. And I will give this reason--that thou h=
ast
cleared thyself; and, moreover, that thy auguries as regards the war have b=
een
auguries of truth--as, indeed, they have, though for this I have no cause to
thank thee, seeing that thou didst suit thy prophecies to fit thy cause. No=
w,
farewell; for I must return to those heavy-browed ambassadors; and grow not=
so
sudden wroth, Harmachis, for who knows what may come to pass betwixt thee a=
nd
me?"
And, with a little nod, she went, leaving it o=
n my
mind that she had it in her heart to wed me openly. And of a truth, I belie=
ve
that, at this hour, such was her thought. For, if she loved me not, still s=
he
held me dear, and as yet she had not wearied of me.
On the morrow Cleopatra came not, but Charmion
came--Charmion, whom I had not seen since that fatal night of ruin. She ent=
ered
and stood before me, with pale face and downcast eyes, and her first words =
were
words of bitterness.
"Pardon me," she said, in her gentle
voice, "in that I dare to come to thee in Cleopatra's place. Thy joy is
not delayed for long, for thou shalt see her presently."
I shrank at her words, as well I might, and,
seeing her vantage, she seized it.
"I come, Harmachis--royal no more!--I com=
e to
say that thou art free! Thou art free to face thine own infamy, and see it
thrown back from every eye which trusted thee, as shadows are from water. I
come to tell thee that the great plot--the plot of twenty years and more--i=
s at
its utter end. None have been slain, indeed, unless it is Sepa, who has van=
ished.
But all the leaders have been seized and put in chains, or driven from the
land, and their party is broken and scattered. The storm has melted before =
it
burst. Egypt is lost, and lost for ever, for her last hope is gone! No long=
er
may she struggle--now for all time she must bow her neck to the yoke, and b=
are
her back to the rod of the oppressor!"
I groaned aloud. "Alas, I was betrayed!&q=
uot;
I said. "Paulus betrayed us."
"Thou wast betrayed? Nay, thou thyself wa=
st
the betrayer! How came it that thou didst not slay Cleopatra when thou wast
alone with her? Speak, thou forsworn!"
"She drugged me," I said again.
"O Harmachis!" answered the pitiless
girl, "how low art thou fallen from that Prince whom once I knew!--thou
who dost not scorn to be a liar! Yea, thou wast drugged--drugged with a
love-philtre! Yea, thou didst sell Egypt and thy cause for the price of a
wanton's kiss! Thou Sorrow and thou Shame!" she went on, pointing her
finger at me and lifting her eyes to my face, "thou Scorn!--thou
Outcast!--and thou Contempt! Deny if it thou canst. Ay, shrink from me--kno=
wing
what thou art, well mayst thou shrink! Crawl to Cleopatra's feet, and kiss =
her
sandals till such time as it pleases her to trample thee in thy kindred dir=
t;
but from all honest folk shrink!--shrink!"
My soul quivered beneath the lash of her bitter
scorn and hate, but I had no words to answer.
"How comes it," I said at last in a
heavy voice, "that thou, too, art not betrayed, but art still here to
taunt me, thou who once didst swear that thou didst love me? Being a woman,
hast thou no pity for the frailty of man?"
"My name was not on the lists," she
said, dropping her dark eyes. "Here is an opportunity: betray me also,
Harmachis! Ay, it is because I once loved thee--dost thou, indeed, remember
it?--that I feel thy fall the more. The shame of one whom we have loved mus=
t in
some sort become our shame, and must ever cling to us, because we blindly h=
eld
a thing so base close to our inmost heart. Art thou also, then, a fool? Wou=
ldst
thou, fresh from thy royal wanton's arms, come to me for comfort--to me of =
all
the world?"
"How know I," I said, "that it =
was
not thou who, in thy jealous anger, didst betray our plans? Charmion, long =
ago
Sepa warned me against thee, and of a truth now that I recall----"
"It is like a traitor," she broke in,
reddening to her brow, "to think that all are of his family, and hold a
common mind! Nay, I betrayed thee not; it was that poor knave, Paulus, whose
heart failed him at the last, and who is rightly served. Nor will I stay to
hear thoughts so base. Harmachis--royal no more!--Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt,
bids me say that thou art free, and that she waits thee in the Alabaster
Hall."
And shooting one swift glance through her long
lashes she curtsied and was gone.
So once more I came and went about the Court,
though but sparingly, for my heart was full of shame and terror, and on eve=
ry
face I feared to see the scorn of those who knew me for what I was. But I s=
aw
nothing, for all those who had knowledge of the plot had fled, and Charmion=
had
spoken no word, for her own sake. Also, Cleopatra had put it about that I w=
as
innocent. But my guilt lay heavy on me, and made me thin and wore away the
beauty of my countenance. And though I was free in name, yet I was ever
watched; nor might I stir beyond the palace grounds.
And at length came the day which brought with =
it
Quintus Dellius, that false Roman knight who ever served the rising star. He
bore letters to Cleopatra from Marcus Antonius, the Triumvir, who, fresh fr=
om
the victory of Philippi, was now in Asia wringing gold from the subject kin=
gs
with which to satisfy the greed of his legionaries.
Well I mind me of the day. Cleopatra, clad in =
her
robes of state, attended by the officers of her Court, among whom I stood, =
sat
in the great hall on her throne of gold, and bade the heralds admit the Amb=
assador
of Antony, the Triumvir. The great doors were thrown wide, and amidst the b=
lare
of trumpets and salutes of the Gallic guards the Roman came in, clad in gli=
ttering
golden armour and a scarlet cloak of silk, and followed by his suite of
officers. He was smooth-faced and fair to look upon, and with a supple form;
but his mouth was cold, and false were his shifting eyes. And while the her=
alds
called out his name, titles, and offices, he fixed his gaze on Cleopatra--w=
ho
sat idly on her throne all radiant with beauty--as a man who is amazed. Then
when the heralds had made an end, and he still stood thus, not stirring, Cl=
eopatra
spoke in the Latin tongue:
"Greeting to thee, noble Dellius, envoy of the most mighty Antony, whose shadow lies across the world as though Mars himself now towered up above us petty Princes--greeting and welcome to our = poor city of Alexandria. Unfold, we pray thee, the purpose of thy coming."<= o:p>
Still the crafty Dellius made no answer, but s=
tood
as a man amazed.
"What ails thee, noble Dellius, that thou
dost not speak?" asked Cleopatra. "Hast thou, then, wandered so l=
ong
in Asia that the doors of Roman speech are shut to thee? What tongue hast t=
hou?
Name it, and We will speak in it--for all tongues are known to Us."
Then at last he spoke in a soft full voice:
"Oh, pardon me, most lovely Egypt, if I have thus been stricken dumb
before thee: but too great beauty, like Death himself, doth paralyse the to=
ngue
and steal our sense away. The eyes of him who looks upon the fires of the
mid-day sun are blind to all beside, and thus this sudden vision of thy glo=
ry,
royal Egypt, overwhelmed my mind, and left me helpless and unwitting of all=
things
else."
"Of a truth, noble Dellius," answered
Cleopatra, "they teach a pretty school of flattery yonder in
Cilicia."
"How goes the saying here in
Alexandria?" replied the courtly Roman: "'The breath of flattery
cannot waft a cloud,'[*] does it not? But to my task. Here, royal Egypt, are
letters under the hand and seal of the noble Antony treating of certain mat=
ters
of the State. Is it thy pleasure that I should read them openly?"
[=
*] In
other words, what is Divine is beyond the reach of human praise.--Editor.
"Break the seals and read," she
answered.
Then bowing, he broke the seals and read:
"The Triumviri Reipublicæ Constituendæ, by
the mouth of Marcus Antonius, the Triumvir, to Cleopatra, by grace of the R=
oman
People Queen of Upper and Lower Egypt, send greeting. Whereas it has come to
our knowledge that thou, Cleopatra, hast, contrary to thy promise and thy d=
uty,
both by thy servant Allienus and by thy servant Serapion, the Governor of
Cyprus, aided the rebel murderer Cassius against the arms of the most noble
Triumvirate. And, whereas it has come to our knowledge that thou thyself wa=
st
but lately making ready a great fleet to this end. We summon thee that thou
dost without delay journey to Cilicia, there to meet the noble Antony, and =
in
person make answer concerning these charges which are laid against thee. An=
d we
warn thee that if thou dost disobey this our summons it is at thy peril.
Farewell."
The eyes of Cleopatra flashed as she hearkened=
to
these high words, and I saw her hands tighten on the golden lions' heads
whereon they rested.
"We have had the flattery," she said;
"and now, lest we be cloyed with sweets, we have its antidote! Listen
thou, Dellius: the charges in that letter, or, rather, in that writ of summ=
ons,
are false, as all folk can bear us witness. But it is not now, and it is no=
t to
thee, that We will make defence of our acts of war and policy. Nor will We
leave our kingdom to journey into far Cilicia, and there, like some poor
suppliant at law, plead our cause before the Court of the Noble Antony. If
Antony would have speech with us, and inquire concerning these high matters=
, the
sea is open, and his welcome shall be royal. Let him come thither! That is =
our
answer to thee and to the Triumvirate, O Dellius!"
But Dellius smiled as one who would put away t=
he
weight of wrath, and once more spoke:
"Royal Egypt, thou knowest not the noble
Antony. He is stern on paper, and ever he sets down his thoughts as though =
his
stylus were a spear dipped in the blood of men. But face to face with him,
thou, of all the world, shalt find him the gentlest warrior that ever won a
battle. Be advised, O Egypt! and come. Send me not hence with such angry wo=
rds,
for if thou dost draw Antony to Alexandria, then woe to Alexandria, to the =
people
of the Nile, and to thee, great Egypt! For then he will come armed and
breathing war, and it shall go hard with thee, who dost defy the gathered m=
ight
of Rome. I pray thee, then, obey this summons. Come to Cilicia; come with
peaceful gifts and not in arms. Come in thy beauty, and tricked in thy best
attire, and thou hast naught to fear from the noble Antony." He paused=
and
looked at her meaningly; while I, taking his drift, felt the angry blood su=
rge
into my face.
Cleopatra, too, understood, for I saw her rest=
her
chin upon her hand and the cloud of thought gathered in her eyes. For a time
she sat thus, while the crafty Dellius watched her curiously. And Charmion,
standing with the other ladies by the throne, she also read his meaning, fo=
r her
face lit up, as a summer cloud lights in the evening when the broad lightni=
ng
flares behind it. Then once more it grew pale and quiet.
At length Cleopatra spoke. "This is a hea=
vy
matter," she said, "and therefore, noble Dellius, we must have ti=
me
to let our judgment ripen. Rest thou here, and make thee as merry as our po=
or
circumstances allow. Thou shalt have thy answer within ten days."
The envoy thought awhile, then replied smiling:
"It is well, O Egypt; on the tenth day from now I will attend for my
answer, and on the eleventh I sail hence to join Antony my Lord."
Once more, at a sign from Cleopatra, the trump=
ets
blared, and he withdrew bowing.
That same night Cleopatra summoned me to her
private chamber. I went, and found her much troubled in mind; never before =
had
I seen her so deeply moved. She was alone, and, like some trapped lioness,
walked to and fro across the marble floor, while thought chased thought acr=
oss
her mind, each, as clouds scudding over the sea, for a moment casting its s=
hadow
in her deep eyes.
"So thou art come, Harmachis," she s=
aid,
resting for a while, as she took my hand. "Counsel me, for never did I
need counsel more. Oh, what days have the Gods measured out to me--days
restless as the ocean! I have known no peace from childhood up, and it seems
none shall I know. Scarce by a very little have I escaped thy dagger's poin=
t,
Harmachis, when this new trouble, that, like a storm, has gathered beneath =
the horizon's
rim, suddenly bursts over me. Didst mark that tigerish fop? Well should I l=
ove
to trap him! How soft he spoke! Ay, he purred like a cat, and all the time =
he
stretched his claws. Didst hear the letter, too? it has an ugly sound. I kn=
ow
this Antony. When I was but a child, budding into womanhood, I saw him; but=
my
eyes were ever quick, and I took his measure. Half Hercules and half a fool,
with a dash of genius veining his folly through. Easily led by those who en=
ter
at the gates of his voluptuous sense; but if crossed, an iron foe. True to =
his
friends, if, indeed, he loves them; and ofttimes false to his own interest.=
Generous,
hardy, and in adversity a man of virtue; in prosperity a sot and a slave to
woman. That is Antony. How deal with such a man, whom fate and opportunity,
despite himself, have set on the crest of fortune's wave? One day it will
overwhelm him; but till that day he sweeps across the world and laughs at t=
hose
who drown."
"Antony is but a man," I answered,
"and a man with many foes; and, being but a man, he can be
overthrown."
"Ay, he can be overthrown; but he is one =
of
three, Harmachis. Now that Cassius hath gone where all fools go, Rome has
thrown out a hydra head. Crush one, and another hisses in thy face. There's
Lepidus, and with him, that young Octavianus, whose cold eyes may yet with a
smile of triumph look on the murdered forms of empty, worthless Lepidus, of=
Antony,
and of Cleopatra. If I go not to Cilicia, mark thou! Antony will knit up a
peace with these Parthians, and, taking the tales they tell of me for
truth--and, indeed, there is truth in them--will fall with all his force on
Egypt. And how then?"
"How then? Why, then we'll drum him back =
to
Rome."
"Ah, thou sayest so, and, perchance,
Harmachis, had I not won that game we played together some twelve days gone,
thou, being Pharaoh, mightest well have done this thing, for round thy thro=
ne
old Egypt would have gathered. But Egypt loves not me nor my Greek blood; a=
nd I
have but now scattered that great plot of thine, in which half the land was
meshed. Will these men, then, arise to succour me? Were Egypt true to me, I=
could,
indeed, hold my own against all the force that Rome may bring; but Egypt ha=
tes
me, and had as lief be ruled by the Roman as the Greek. Still I might make
defence had I the gold, for with money soldiers can be bought to feed the m=
aw
of mercenary battle. But I have none; my treasuries are dry, and though the=
re
is wealth in the land, yet debts perplex me. These wars have brought me rui=
n,
and I know not how to find a talent. Perchance, Harmachis, thou who art, by
hereditary right, Priest of the Pyramids," and she drew near and looke=
d me
in the eyes, "perchance, if long descended rumour does not lie, thou c=
anst
tell me where I can touch the gold to save thy land from ruin, and thy Love
from the grasp of Antony? Say, is it so?"
I thought a while, and then I answered:
"And if such a tale were true, and if I c=
ould
show thee treasure stored by the mighty Pharaohs of the most far-off age
against the needs of Khem, how can I know that thou wouldst indeed make use=
of
that wealth to those good ends?"
"Is there, then, a treasure?" she as=
ked
curiously. "Nay, fret me not, Harmachis; for of a truth the very name =
of
gold at this time of want is like the sight of water in the desert."
"I believe," I said, "that ther=
e is
such a treasure, though I myself have never seen it. But I know this, that =
if
it still lie in the place where it was set, it is because so heavy a curse =
will
rest upon him who shall lay hands on it wickedly and for selfish ends, that
none of those Pharaohs to whom it has been shown have dared to touch it,
however sore their need."
"So," she said, "they were cowa=
rdly
aforetime, or else their need was not great. Wilt thou show me this treasur=
e,
then, Harmachis?"
"Perhaps," I answered, "I will =
show
it to thee if it still be there, when thou hast sworn that thou wilt use it=
to
defend Egypt from this Roman Antony and for the welfare of her people."=
;
"I swear it!" she said earnestly.
"Oh, I swear by every God in Khem that if thou showest me this great
treasure, I will defy Antony and send Dellius back to Cilicia with sharper
words than those he brought. Yes, I'll do more, Harmachis: so soon as may b=
e, I
will take thee to husband before all the world, and thou thyself shalt carry
out thy plans and beat off the Roman eagles."
Thus she spoke, gazing at me with truthful,
earnest eyes. I believed her, and for the first time since my fall was for a
moment happy, thinking that all was not lost to me, and that with Cleopatra,
whom I loved thus madly, I might yet win my place and power back.
"Swear it, Cleopatra!" I said.
"I swear, beloved! and thus I seal my
oath!" and she kissed me on the forehead. And I, too, kissed her; and =
we
talked of what we would do when we were wed, and how we should overcome the
Roman.
And thus I was again beguiled; though I believe
that, had it not been for the jealous anger of Charmion--which, as shall be
seen, was ever urging her forward to fresh deeds of shame--Cleopatra would =
have
wedded me and broken with the Roman. And, indeed, in the issue, it had been=
better
for her and Egypt.
We sat far into the night, and I revealed to h=
er
somewhat of that ancient secret of the mighty treasure hid beneath the mass=
of
Her. Thither, it was agreed, we should go on the morrow, and the second nig=
ht
from now attempt its search. So, early on the next day, a boat was secretly
made ready, and Cleopatra entered it, veiled as an Egyptian lady about to m=
ake
a pilgrimage to the Temple of Horemkhu. And I also entered, cloaked as a
pilgrim, and with us ten of her most trusted servants disguised as sailors.=
But
Charmion went not with us. We sailed with a fair wind from the Canopic mout=
h of
the Nile; and that night, pushing on with the moon, we reached Sais at
midnight, and here rested for a while. At dawn we once more loosed our craf=
t,
and all that day sailed swiftly, till, at last, at the third hour from the
sunset, we came in sight of the lights of that fortress which is called
Babylon. Here, on the opposite bank of the river, we moored our ship safely=
in
a bed of reeds.
Then, on foot and secretly, we set out for the
pyramids, which were at a distance of two leagues, Cleopatra, I and one tru=
sted
eunuch, for we left the other servants with the boat. Only I caught an ass =
for Cleopatra
to ride that was wandering in a tilled field, and threw a cloak upon it. She
sat on it and I led the ass by paths I knew, the eunuch following us on foo=
t.
And, within little more than an hour, having gained the great causeway, we =
saw
the mighty pyramids towering up through the moonlit air and aweing us to
silence. We passed on in utter silence, through the haunted city of the dea=
d,
for all around us stood the solemn tombs, till at length we climbed the roc=
ky
hill, and stood in the deep shadow of Khufu Khut, the splendid Throne of Kh=
ufu.
"Of a truth," whispered Cleopatra, as
she gazed up the dazzling marble slope above her, everywhere blazoned over =
with
a million mystic characters--"of a truth, there were Gods ruling in Kh=
em
in those days, and not men. This place is sad as Death--ay, and as mighty a=
nd
far from man. Is it here that we must enter?"
"Nay," I answered, "it is not h=
ere.
Pass on."
I led the way through a thousand ancient tombs,
till we stood in the shadow of Ur the Great, and gazed at his red
heaven-piercing mass.
"Is it here that we must enter?" she
whispered once again.
"Nay," I answered, "it is not h=
ere.
Pass on."
We passed on through many more tombs, till we
stood in the shadow of Her,[*] and Cleopatra gazed astonished at its polish=
ed
beauty, which for thousands of years, night by night, had mirrored back the
moon, and at the black girdle of Ethiopian stone that circled its base abou=
t.
For this is the most beautiful of all pyramids.
[=
*] The
"Upper," now known as the Third Pyramid.--Editor.
"Is it that we must enter?" she said=
.
I answered, "It is here."
We passed round between the Temple of the Wors=
hip
of his Divine Majesty, Menkau-ra, the Osirian, and in the base of the pyram=
id
till we came to the north side. Here in the centre is graved the name of
Pharaoh Menkau-ra, who built the pyramid to be his tomb, and stored his
treasure in it against the need of Khem.
"If the treasure still remains," I s=
aid
to Cleopatra, "as it remained in the days of my great-great-grandfathe=
r,
who was Priest of this Pyramid before me, it is hid deep in the womb of the
mass before thee, Cleopatra; nor can it be come by without toil, danger, and
terror of mind. Art thou prepared to enter--for thou thyself must enter and
must judge?"
"Canst thou not go in with the eunuch,
Harmachis, and bring the treasure forth?" she said, for a little her
courage began to fail her.
"Nay, Cleopatra," I answered, "=
not
even for thee and for the weal of Egypt can I do this thing, for of all sin=
s it
would be the greatest sin. But it is lawful for me to do this. I, as heredi=
tary
holder of the secret, may, upon demand, show to the ruling monarch of Khem =
the
place where the treasure lies, and show also the warning that is written. A=
nd if
on seeing and reading, the Pharaoh deems that the need of Khem is so sore a=
nd
strait that it is lawful for him to brave the curse of the Dead and draw fo=
rth
the treasure, it is well, for on his head must rest the weight of this dread
deed. Three monarchs--so say the records that I have read--have thus dared =
to
enter in the time of need. They were the Divine Queen Hatshepsu, that wonder
known to the Gods alone; her Divine brother Tahutimes Men-Kheper-ra; and th=
e Divine
Rameses Mi-amen. But of these three Majesties, not one when they saw dared =
to
touch; for, though sharp their need, it was not great enough to consecrate =
the
act. So, fearing lest the curse should fall upon them, they went hence sorr=
owing."
She thought a little, till at last her spirit
overcame her fear.
"At the least I will see with mine own
eyes," she said.
"It is well," I answered. Then, ston=
es
having been piled up by me and the eunuch who was with us on a certain spot=
at
the base of the pyramid, to somewhat more than the height of a man, I climb=
ed
on them and searched for the secret mark, no larger than a leaf. I found it
with some trouble, for the weather and the rubbing of the wind-stirred sand=
had
worn even the Ethiopian stone. Having found it, I pressed on it with all my
strength in a certain fashion. Even after the lapse of many years the stone
swung round, showing a little opening, through which a man might scarcely
creep. As it swung, a mighty bat, white in colour as though with unreckoned
age, and such as I had never seen before for bigness, for his measure was t=
he
measure of a hawk, flew forth and for a moment hovered over Cleopatra, then
sailed slowly up and up in circles, till at last he was lost in the bright
light of the moon.
But Cleopatra uttered a cry of terror, and the
eunuch, who was watching, fell down in fear, believing it to be the guardian
Spirit of the pyramid. And I, too, feared, though I said nothing. For even =
now
I believe that it was the Spirit of Menkau-ra, the Osirian, who, taking the
form of a bat, flew forth from his holy House in warning.
I waited a while, till the foul air should cle=
ar
from the passage. Then I drew out the lamps, kindled them, and passed them,=
to
the number of three, into the entrance of the passage. This done, I went to=
the
eunuch, and, taking him aside, I swore him by the living spirit of Him who
sleeps at Abouthis that he should not reveal those things which he was abou=
t to
see.
This he swore, trembling sorely, for he was ve=
ry
much afraid. Nor, indeed, did he reveal them.
This done, I clambered through the opening, ta=
king
with me a coil of rope, which I wound around my middle, and beckoned to
Cleopatra to come. Making fast the skirt of her robe, she came, and I drew =
her
through the opening, so that at length she stood behind me in the passage w=
hich
is lined with slabs of granite. After her came the eunuch, and he also stoo=
d in
the passage. Then, having taken counsel of the plan of the passage that I h=
ad
brought with me, and which, in signs that none but the initiated can read, =
was
copied from those ancient writings that had come down to me through
one-and-forty generations of my predecessors, the Priests of this Pyramid of
Her, and of the worship of the Temple of the Divine Menkau-ra, the Osirian,=
I
led the way through that darksome place towards the utter silence of the to=
mb.
Guided by the feeble light of our lamps, we passed down the steep incline,
gasping in the heat and the thick, stagnated air. Presently we had left the
region of the masonry and were slipping down a gallery hewn in the living r=
ock.
For twenty paces or more it ran steeply. Then its slope lessened and shortl=
y we
found ourselves in a chamber painted white, so low that I, being tall, had
scarcely room to stand; but in length four paces, and in breadth three, and
cased throughout with sculptured panels. Here Cleopatra sank upon the floor=
and
rested awhile, overcome by the heat and the utter darkness.
"Rise!" I said. "We must not li=
nger
here, or we faint."
So she rose, and passing hand in hand through =
that
chamber, we found ourselves face to face with a mighty door of granite, let
down from the roof in grooves. Once more I took counsel of the plan, pressed
with my foot upon a certain stone, and waited. Then, suddenly and softly, I=
know
not by what means, the mass heaved itself from its bed of living rock. We
passed beneath, and found ourselves face to face with a second door of gran=
ite.
Again I pressed on a certain spot, and this door swung wide of itself, and =
we
went through, to find ourselves face to face with a third door, yet more mi=
ghty
than the two through which we had won our way. Following the secret plan, I
struck this door with my foot upon a certain spot, and it sank slowly as th=
ough
at a word of magic till its head was level with the floor of rock. We cross=
ed
and gained another passage which, descending gently for a length of fourteen
paces, led us into a great chamber, paved with black marble, more than nine
cubits high, by nine cubits broad, and thirty cubits long. In this marble f=
loor
was sunk a great sarcophagus of granite, and on its lid were graved the name
and titles of the Queen of Menkau-ra. In this chamber, too, the air was pur=
er,
though I know not by what means it came thither.
"Is the treasure here?" gasped Cleop=
atra.
"Nay," I answered; "follow
me," and I led the way to a gallery, which we entered through an openi=
ng
in the floor of the great chamber. It had been closed by a trap-door of sto=
ne,
but the door was open. Creeping along this shaft, or passage, for some ten
paces, we came at length to a well, seven cubits in depth. Making fast one =
end
of the rope that I had brought about my body and the other to a ring in the
rock, I was lowered, holding the lamp in my hand, till I stood in the last =
resting-place
of the Divine Menkau-ra. Then the rope was drawn up, and Cleopatra, being m=
ade
fast to it, was let down by the eunuch, and I received her in my arms. But I
bade the eunuch, sorely against his will, since he feared to be left alone,
await our return at the mouth of the shaft. For it was not lawful that he
should enter whither we went.
We stood within a small arched chamber, paved =
and
lined with great blocks of the granite stone of Syene. There before us--hewn
from a single mass of basalt shaped like a wooden house and resting on a sp=
hinx
with a face of gold--was the sarcophagus of the Divine Menkau-ra.
We stood and gazed in awe, for the weight of t=
he
silence and the solemnity of that holy place seemed to crush us. Above us,
cubit over cubit in its mighty measure, the pyramid towered up to heaven and
was kissed of the night air. But we were deep in the bowels of the rock ben=
eath
its base. We were alone with the dead, whose rest we were about to break; a=
nd
no sound of the murmuring air, and no sight of life came to dull the awful =
edge
of solitude. I gazed on the sarcophagus; its heavy lid had been lifted and
rested at its side, and around it the dust of ages had gathered thick.
"See," I whispered, pointing to a
writing, daubed with pigment upon the wall in the sacred symbols of ancient
times.
"Read it, Harmachis," answered
Cleopatra, in the same low voice; "for I cannot."
Then I read: "I, Rameses Mi-amen, in my d=
ay
and in my hour of need, visited this sepulchre. But, though great my need a=
nd
bold my heart, I dared not face the curse of Menkau-ra. Judge, O thou who s=
halt
come after me, and, if thy soul is pure and Khem be utterly distressed, tak=
e thou
that which I have left."
"Where, then, is the treasure?" she
whispered. "Is that Sphinx-face of gold?"
"Even there," I answered, pointing to
the sarcophagus. "Draw near and see."
And she took my hand and drew near.
The cover was off, but the painted coffin of t=
he
Pharaoh lay in the depths of the sarcophagus. We climbed the Sphinx, then I
blew the dust from the coffin with my breath and read that which was writte=
n on
its lid. And this was written:
"Pharaoh Menkau-ra, the Child of Heaven.<= o:p>
"Pharaoh Menkau-ra, Royal Son of the Sun.=
"Pharaoh Menkau-ra, who didst lie beneath=
the
heart of Nout.
"Nout, thy Mother, wraps thee in the spel=
l of
Her holy name.
"The name of thy Mother, Nout, is the mys=
tery
of Heaven.
"Nout, thy Mother, gathers thee to the nu=
mber
of the Gods.
"Nout, thy Mother, breathes on thy foes a=
nd
utterly destroys them.
"O Pharaoh Menkau-ra, who livest for
ever!"
"Where, then, is the treasure?" she
asked again. "Here, indeed, is the body of the Divine Menkau-ra; but t=
he
flesh even of Pharaohs is not gold, and if the face of this Sphinx be gold =
how
may we move it?"
For answer I bade her stand upon the Sphinx and
grasp the upper part of the coffin while I grasped its foot. Then, at my wo=
rd,
we lifted, and the lid of the case, which was not fixed, came away, and we =
set
it upon the floor. And there in the case was the mummy of Pharaoh, as it had
been laid three thousand years before. It was a large mummy, and somewhat
ungainly. Nor was it adorned with a gilded mask, as is the fashion of our d=
ay,
for the head was wrapped in clothes yellow with age, which were made fast w=
ith
pink flaxen bandages, under which were pushed the stems of lotus-blooms. An=
d on
the breast, wreathed round with lotus-flowers, lay a large plate of gold
closely written over with sacred writing. I lifted up the plate, and, holdi=
ng
it to the light, I read:
"I, Menkau-ra, the Osirian, aforetime Pha=
raoh
of the Land of Khem, who in my day did live justly and ever walked in the p=
ath
marked for my feet by the decree of the Invisible, who was the beginning an=
d is
the end, speak from my tomb to those who after me shall for an hour sit upo=
n my
Throne. Behold, I, Menkau-ra, the Osirian, having in the days of my life be=
en
warned of a dream that a time will come when Khem shall fear to fall into t=
he
hands of strangers, and her monarch shall have great need of treasure where=
with
to furnish armies to drive the barbarian back, have out of my wisdom done t=
his
thing. For it having pleased the protecting Gods to give me wealth beyond a=
ny
Pharaoh who has been since the days of Horus--thousands of cattle and geese,
thousands of calves and asses, thousands of measures of corn, and hundreds =
of measures
of gold and gems; this wealth I have used sparingly, and that which remains=
I
have bartered for precious stones--even for emeralds, the most beautiful and
largest that are in the world. These stones, then, I have stored up against
that day of the need of Khem. But because as there have been, so there shall
be, those who do wickedly on the earth, and who, in the lust of gain, might
seize this wealth that I have stored, and put it to their uses; behold, thou
Unborn One, who in the fulness of time shalt stand above me and read this t=
hat
I have caused to be written, I have stored the treasure thus--even among my
bones. Therefore, O thou Unborn One, sleeping in the womb of Nout, I say th=
is to
thee! If thou indeed hast need of riches to save Khem from the foes of Khem,
fear not and delay not, but tear me, the Osirian, from my tomb, loose my
wrappings and rip the treasure from my breast, and all shall be well with t=
hee;
for this only I do command, that thou dost replace my bones within my hollow
coffin. But if the need be passing and not great, or if there be guile in t=
hy
heart, then the curse of Menkau-ra be on thee! On thee be the curse that sh=
all
smite him who breaks in upon the dead! On thee be the curse that follows the
traitor! On thee be the curse that smites him who outrages the Majesty of t=
he
Gods! Unhappy shalt thou live, in blood and misery shalt thou die, and in
misery shalt thou be tormented for ever and for ever! For, Wicked One, ther=
e in
Amenti we shall come face to face!
"And to the end of the keeping of this
secret, I, Menkau-ra, have set up a Temple of my Worship, which I have built
upon the eastern side of this my House of Death. It shall be made known from
time to time to the Hereditary High Priest of this my Temple. And if any Hi=
gh
Priest that shall be do reveal this secret to another than the Pharaoh, or =
Her who
wears the Pharaoh's crown and is seated upon the throne of Khem, accursed b=
e he
also. Thus have I, Menkau-ra, the Osirian, written. Now to thee, who, sleep=
ing
in the womb of Nout, yet shall upon a time stand over me and read, I say, j=
udge
thou! and if thou judgest evilly, on thee shall fall this the curse of
Menkau-ra from which there is no escape. Greeting and farewell."
"Thou hast heard, O Cleopatra," I sa=
id
solemnly; "now search thy heart; judge thou, and for thine own sake ju=
dge
justly."
She bent her head in thought.
"I fear to do this thing," she said
presently. "Let us hence."
"It is well," I said, with a lighten=
ing
of the heart, and bent down to lift the wooden lid. For I, too, feared.
"And yet, what said the writing of the Di=
vine
Menkau-ra?--it was emeralds, was it not? And emeralds are now so rare and h=
ard
to come by. Ever did I love emeralds, and I can never find them without a
flaw."
"It is not a matter of what thou dost lov=
e,
Cleopatra," I said; "it is a matter of the need of Khem and of the
secret meaning of thy heart, which thou alone canst know."
"Ay, surely, Harmachis; surely! And is not
the need of Egypt great? There is no gold in the treasury, and how can I de=
fy
the Roman if I have no gold? And have I not sworn to thee that I will wed t=
hee
and defy the Roman; and do I not swear it again--yes, even in this solemn h=
our,
with my hand upon dead Pharaoh's heart? Why, here is that occasion of which=
the
Divine Menkau-ra dreamed. Thou seest it is so, for else Hat-shepsu or Rames=
es
or some other Pharaoh had drawn forth the gems. But no; they left them to c=
ome
to this hour because the time was not yet come. Now it must be come, for if=
I
take not the gems the Roman will surely seize on Egypt, and then there will=
be
no Pharaoh to whom the secret may be told. Nay, let us away with fears and =
to
the work. Why dost look so frightened? Having pure hearts, there is naught =
to
fear, Harmachis."
"Even as thou wilt," I said again;
"it is for thee to judge, since if thou judgest falsely on thee will
surely fall the curse from which there is no escape."
"So, Harmachis, take Pharaoh's head and I
will take his----Oh, what an awful place is this!" and suddenly she cl=
ung
to me. "Methought I saw a shadow yonder in the darkness! Methought tha=
t it
moved toward us and then straightway vanished! Let us be going! Didst thou =
see
naught?"
"I saw nothing, Cleopatra; but mayhap it =
was
the Spirit of the Divine Menkau-ra, for the spirit ever hovers round its mo=
rtal
tenement. Let us, then, be going; I shall be right glad to go."
She made as though to start, then turned back
again and spoke once more.
"It was naught--naught but the mind that,=
in
such a house of Horror, bodies forth those shadowy forms of fear it dreads =
to
see. Nay, I must look upon these emeralds; indeed, if I die, I must look!
Come--to the work!" and stooping, she with her own hands lifted from t=
he
tomb one of the four alabaster jars, each sealed with the graven likeness of
the heads of the protecting Gods, that held the holy heart and entrails of =
the
Divine Menkau-ra. But nothing was found in these jars, save only what shoul=
d be
there.
Then together we mounted on the Sphinx, and wi=
th
toil drew forth the body of the Divine Pharaoh, laying it on the ground. Now
Cleopatra took my dagger, and with it cut loose the bandages which held the
wrappings in their place, and the lotus-flowers that had been set in them b=
y loving
hands, three thousand years before, fell down upon the pavement. Then we
searched and found the end of the outer bandage, which was fixed in at the
hinder part of the neck. This we cut loose, for it was glued fast. This don=
e,
we began to unroll the wrappings of the holy corpse. Setting my shoulders
against the sarcophagus, I sat upon the rocky floor, the body resting on my
knees, and, as I turned it, Cleopatra unwound the cloths; and awesome was t=
he
task. Presently something fell out; it was the sceptre of the Pharaoh,
fashioned of gold, and at its end was a pomegranate cut from a single emera=
ld.
Cleopatra seized the sceptre and gazed on it in
silence. Then once more we went on with our dread business. And ever as we
unwound, other ornaments of gold, such as are buried with Pharaohs, fell fr=
om
the wrappings--collars and bracelets, models of sistra, an inlaid axe, and =
an
image of the holy Osiris and of the holy Khem. At length all the bandages w=
ere
unwound, and beneath we found a covering of coarsest linen; for in those ve=
ry
ancient days the craftsmen were not so skilled in matters pertaining to the
embalming of the body as they are now. And on the linen was written in an o=
val,
"Menkau-ra, Royal Son of the Sun." We could in no wise loosen this
linen, it held so firm on to the body. Therefore, faint with the great heat,
choked with mummy dust and the odour of spices, and trembling with fear of =
our
unholy task, wrought in that most lonesome and holy place, we laid the body
down, and ripped away the last covering with the knife. First we cleared
Pharaoh's head, and now the face that no man had gazed on for three thousand
years was open to our view. It was a great face, with a bold brow, yet crow=
ned with
the royal uræus, beneath which the white locks, stained yellow by the spice=
s,
fell in long, straight wisps. Not the cold stamp of death, and not the slow
flight of three thousand years, had found power to mar the dignity of those
shrunken features. We gazed on them, and then, made bold with fear, stripped
the covering from the body. There at last it lay before us, stiff, yellow, =
and
dread to see; and on the left side, above the thigh, was the cut through wh=
ich
the embalmers had done their work, but it was sewn up so deftly that we cou=
ld
scarcely find the mark.
"The gems are within," I whispered, =
for
I felt that the body was very heavy. "Now, if thy heart fail thee not,
thou must make an entry to this poor house of clay that once was Pharaoh,&q=
uot;
and I gave her the dagger--the same dagger which had drunk the life of Paul=
us.
"It is too late to doubt," she answe=
red,
lifting her white beauteous face and fixing her blue eyes all big with terr=
or
upon my own. She took the dagger, and with set teeth the Queen of this day
plunged it into the dead breast of the Pharaoh of three thousand years ago.=
And
even as she did so there came a groaning sound from the opening to the shaft
where we had left the eunuch! We leapt to our feet, but heard no more, and =
the lamp-light
still streamed down through the opening.
"It is nothing," I said. "Let us
make an end."
Then with much toil we hacked and rent the har= d flesh open, and as we did so I heard the knife point grate upon the gems within.<= o:p>
Cleopatra plunged her hand into the dead breast
and drew forth somewhat. She held it to the light, and gave a little cry, f=
or
from the darkness of Pharaoh's heart there flashed into light and life the =
most
beauteous emerald that ever man beheld. It was perfect in colour, very larg=
e, without
a flaw, and fashioned to a scarabæus form, and on the under side was an ova=
l,
inscribed with the divine name of Menkau-ra, Son of the Sun.
Again, again, and yet again, she plunged in her
hand and drew emeralds from Pharaoh's breast bedded there in spices. Some w=
ere
fashioned and some were not; but all were perfect in colour without a flaw,=
and
in value priceless. Again and again she plunged her white hand into that dr=
ead
breast, till at length all were found, and there were one hundred and forty=
and
eight of such gems as are not known in the world. The last time that she
searched she brought forth not emeralds, indeed, but two great pearls, wrap=
ped
in linen, such as never have been seen. And of these pearls more hereafter.=
So it was done, and all the mighty treasure lay
glittering in a heap before us. There it lay, and there, too, lay the regal=
ia
of gold, the spiced and sickly-scented wrappings, and the torn body of
white-haired Pharaoh Menkau-ra, the Osirian, the ever living in Amenti.
We rose, and a great awe fell upon us, now that
the deed was done and our hearts were no more upborne by the rage of search=
--so
great an awe, indeed, that we could not speak. I made a sign to Cleopatra. =
She
grasped the head of Pharaoh and I grasped his feet, and together we lifted =
him,
climbed the Sphinx, and placed him once more within his coffin. I piled the
torn mummy cloths over him and on them laid the lid of the coffin.
And now we gathered up the great gems, and suc=
h of
the ornaments as might be carried with ease, and I hid them as many as I co=
uld,
in the folds of my robe. Those that were left Cleopatra hid upon her breast=
. Heavily
laden with the priceless treasure, we gave one last look at the solemn plac=
e,
at the sarcophagus and the Sphinx on which it rested, whose gleaming face of
calm seemed to mock us with its everlasting smile of wisdom. Then we turned=
and
went from the tomb.
At the shaft we halted. I called to the eunuch,
who stayed above, and methought a faint mocking laugh answered me. Too smit=
ten
with terror to call again, and fearing that, should we delay, Cleopatra wou=
ld
certainly swoon, I seized the rope, and being strong and quick mounted by it
and gained the passage. There burnt the lamp: but the eunuch I saw not. Thi=
nking,
surely, that he was a little way down the passage, and slept--as, in truth,=
he
did--I bade Cleopatra make the rope fast about her middle, and with much
labour, drew her up. Then, having rested awhile, we moved with the lamps to
seek for the eunuch.
"He was stricken with terror and has fled,
leaving the lamp," said Cleopatra. "O ye Gods! who is that seated
there?"
I peered into the darkness, thrusting out the
lamps, and this was what their light fell on--this at the very dream of whi=
ch
my soul sickens! There, facing us, his back resting against the rock, and h=
is
hands splayed on either side upon the floor, sat the eunuch--dead! His eyes=
and
mouth were open, his fat cheeks dropped down, his thin hair yet seemed to
bristle, and on his countenance was frozen such a stamp of hideous terror as
well might turn the beholder's brain. And lo! fixed to his chin, by its hin=
der
claws, hung that grey and mighty bat, which, flying forth when we entered t=
he
pyramid, vanished in the sky, but, returning, had followed us to its depths.
There it hung upon the dead man's chin slowly rocking itself to and fro, an=
d we
could see the fiery eyes shining in its head.
Aghast, utterly aghast, we stood and stared at=
the
hateful sight; till presently the bat spread his huge wings and, losing his
hold, sailed to us. Now he hovered before Cleopatra's face, fanning her with
his white wings. Then with a scream, like a woman's shriek of fury, the
accursed Thing flittered on, seeking his violated tomb, and vanished down t=
he well
into the sepulchre. I fell against the wall. But Cleopatra sank in a heap u=
pon
the floor, and, covering her head with her arms, she shrieked till the holl=
ow
passages rang with the echoes of her cries, that seemed to grow and double =
and
rush along the depths in volumes of shrill sound.
"Rise!" I cried, "rise and let =
us
hence before the Spirit shall return to haunt us! If thou dost suffer thyse=
lf
to be overwhelmed in this place thou art lost for ever."
She staggered to her feet, and never may I for=
get
the look upon her ashy face or in her glowing eyes. Seizing lamps with a ru=
sh,
we passed the dead eunuch's horrid form, I holding her by the hand. We gain=
ed
the great chamber, where was the sarcophagus of the Queen of Menkau-ra, and=
traversed
its length. We fled along the passage. What if the Thing had closed the thr=
ee
mighty doors? No; they were open, and we sped through them; the last only d=
id I
stay to close. I touched the stone, as I knew how, and the great door crash=
ed
down, shutting us off from the presence of the dead eunuch and the Horror t=
hat
had hung upon the eunuch's chin. Now we were in the white chamber with the
sculptured panels, and now we faced the last steep ascent. Oh that last asc=
ent!
Twice Cleopatra slipped and fell upon the polished floor. The second time--=
it
was when half the distance had been done--she let fall her lamp, and would,=
indeed,
have rolled down the slide had I not saved her. But in doing thus I, too, l=
et
fall my lamp that bounded away into shadow beneath us, and we were in utter
darkness. And perchance about us, in the darkness, hovered that awful Thing=
!
"Be brave!" I cried; "O love, be
brave, and struggle on, or both are lost! The way, though steep, is not far;
and, though it be dark, we can scarce come to harm in this straight shaft. =
If
the gems weight thee, cast them away!"
"Nay," she gasped, "that I will
not; this shall not be endured to no end. I die with them!"
Then it was that I saw the greatness of this
woman's heart; for in the dark, and notwithstanding the terrors we had pass=
ed
and the awfulness of our state, she clung to me and clambered on up that dr=
ead
passage. On we clambered, hand in hand, with bursting hearts, till there, by
the mercy or the anger of the Gods, at length we saw the faint light of the
moon, creeping through the little opening in the pyramid. One struggle more=
, now
the hole was gained, and like a breath from heaven, the sweet night air pla=
yed
upon our brows. I climbed through, and, standing on a pile of stones, lifted
and dragged Cleopatra after me. She fell to the ground and then sank down u=
pon
it motionless.
I pressed upon the turning stone with trembling
hands. It swung to and caught, leaving no mark of the secret place of entry.
Then I leapt down and, having pushed away the pile of stones, looked on
Cleopatra. She had swooned, and notwithstanding the dust and grime upon her
face, it was so pale that at first I believed she must be dead. But placing=
my
hand upon her heart I felt it stir beneath; and, being spent, I flung myself
down beside her upon the sand, to gather up my strength again.
Presently I lifted myself, and, laying the hea=
d of
Egypt's Queen upon my knee, strove to call her back to life. How fair she
seemed, even in her disarray, her long hair streaming down her breast! how
deadly fair she seemed in the faint light--this woman the story of whose be=
auty
and whose sin shall outlive the solid mass of the mighty pyramid that tower=
ed
over us! The heaviness of her swoon had smoothed away the falseness of her
face, and nothing was left but the divine stamp of Woman's richest loveline=
ss,
softened by shadows of the night and dignified by the cast of deathlike sle=
ep.
I gazed upon her and all my heart went out to her; it seemed that I did but
love her more because of the depth of the treasons to which I had sunk to r=
each
her, and because of the terrors we had outfaced together. Weary and spent w=
ith
fears and the pangs of guilt, my heart sought hers for rest, for now she al=
one
was left to me. She had sworn to wed me also, and with the treasure we had =
won
we would make Egypt strong and free her from her foes, and all should yet be
well. Ah! could I have seen the picture that was to come, how, and in what
place and circumstance, once again this very woman's head should be laid up=
on
my knee, pale with that cast of death! Ah! could I have seen!
I chafed her hand between my hands. I bent down
and kissed her on the lips, and at my kiss she woke. She woke with a little=
sob
of fear--a shiver ran along her delicate limbs, and she stared upon my face
with wide eyes.
"Ah! it is thou!" she said. "I =
mind
me--thou hast saved me from that horror-haunted place!" And she threw =
her
arms about my neck, drew me to her and kissed me. "Come, love," s=
he
said, "let us be going! I am sore athirst, and--ah! so very weary! The
gems, too, chafe my breast! Never was wealth so hardly won! Come, let us be
going from the shadow of this ghostly spot! See the faint lights glancing f=
rom
the wings of Dawn. How beautiful they are, and how sweet to behold! Never, =
in
those Halls of Eternal Night, did I think to look upon the blush of dawn ag=
ain!
Ah! I can still see the face of that dead slave, with the Horror hanging to=
his
beardless chin! Bethink thee!--there he'll sit for ever--there--with the
Horror! Come; where may we find water? I would give an emerald for a cup of
water!"
"At the canal on the borders of the tilled
land below the Temple of Horemkhu--it is close by," I answered. "=
If
any see us, we will say that we are pilgrims who have lost our way at night
among the tombs. Veil thyself closely, therefore, Cleopatra; and beware lest
thou dost show aught of those gems about thee."
So she veiled herself, and I lifted her on to =
the
ass which was tethered near at hand. We walked slowly through the plain til=
l we
came to the place where the symbol of the God Horemkhu,[*] fashioned as a
mighty Sphinx (whom the Greeks call Harmachis), and crowned with the royal =
crown
of Egypt, looks out in majesty across the land, his eyes ever fixed upon the
East. As we walked the first arrow of the rising sun quivered through the g=
rey
air, striking upon Horemkhu's lips of holy calm, and the Dawn kissed her
greeting to the God of Dawn. Then the light gathered and grew upon the glea=
ming
sides of twenty pyramids, and, like a promise from Life to Death, rested on=
the
portals of ten thousand tombs. It poured in a flood of gold across the dese=
rt
sand--it pierced the heavy sky of night, and fell in bright beams upon the
green of fields and the tufted crest of palms. Then from his horizon bed ro=
yal
Ra rose up in pomp and it was day.
[=
*]
That is, "Horus on the horizon"; and signifies the power of Light and Good overcoming the pow=
er of
Darkness and Evil incarnate in=
his
enemy, Typhon.--Editor.
Passing the temple of granite and of alabaster
that was built before the days of Khufu, to the glory of the Majesty of
Horemkhu, we descended the slope, and came to the banks of the canal. There=
we
drank; and that draught of muddy water was sweeter than all the choicest wi=
ne
of Alexandria. Also we washed the mummy dust and grime from our hands and b=
rows
and made us clean. As she bathed her neck, stooping over the water, one of =
the
great emeralds slipped from Cleopatra's breast and fell into the canal, and=
it
was but by chance that at length I found it in the mire. Then, once more, I
lifted Cleopatra onto the beast, and slowly, for I was very weary, we march=
ed
back to the banks of Sihor, where our craft was. And having at length come
thither, seeing no one save some few peasants going out to labour on the la=
nds,
I turned the ass loose in that same field where we had found him, and we
boarded the craft while the crew were yet sleeping. Then, waking them, we b=
ade
them make all sail, saying that we had left the eunuch to sojourn a while b=
ehind
us, as in truth we had. So we sailed, having first hidden away the gems and
such of the ornaments of gold as we could bring to the boat.
We spent four days and more in coming to
Alexandria, for the wind was for the most part against us; and they were ha=
ppy
days! At first, indeed, Cleopatra was somewhat silent and heavy at heart, f=
or
what she had seen and felt in the womb of the pyramid weighed her down. But
soon her Imperial spirit awoke and shook the burden from her breast, and sh=
e became
herself again--now gay, now learned; now loving, and now cold; now queenly,=
and
now altogether simple--ever changing as the winds of heaven, and as the hea=
ven,
deep, beauteous, and unsearchable!
Night after night for those four perfect night=
s,
the last happy hours I ever was to know, we sat hand in hand upon the deck =
and heard
the waters lap the vessel's side, and watched the soft footfall of the moon=
as
she trod the depths of Nile. There we sat and talked of love, talked of our=
marriage
and all that we would do. Also I drew up plans of war and of defence against
the Roman, which now we had the means to carry out; and she approved them,
sweetly saying that what seemed good to me was good to her. And so the time
passed all too swiftly.
Oh those nights upon the Nile! their memory ha=
unts
me yet! Yet in my dreams I see the moonbeams break and quiver, and hear
Cleopatra's murmured words of love mingle with the sound of murmuring water=
s.
Dead are those dear nights, dead is the moon that lit them; the waters whic=
h rocked
us on their breast are lost in the wide salt sea, and where we kissed and c=
lung
there lips unborn shall kiss and cling! How beautiful was their promise,
doomed, like an unfruitful blossom, to wither, fall, and rot! and their
fulfilment, ah, how drear! For all things end in darkness and in ashes, and
those who sow in folly shall reap in sorrow. Ah! those nights upon the Nile=
!
And so at length once more we stood within the
hateful walls of that fair palace on the Lochias, and the dream was done.
"Whither hast thou wandered with Cleopatr=
a,
Harmachis?" Charmion asked of me when I met her by chance on that day =
of
return. "On some new mission of betrayal? Or was it but a
love-journey?"
"I went with Cleopatra upon secret busine=
ss
of the State," I answered sternly.
"So! Those who go secretly, go evilly; and
foul birds love to fly at night. Not but what thou art wise, for it would
scarce beseem thee, Harmachis, to show thy face openly in Egypt."
I heard, and felt my passion rise within me, f=
or I
could ill bear this fair girl's scorn.
"Hast thou never a word without a sting?&=
quot;
I asked. "Know, then, that I went whither thou hadst not dared to go, =
to
gather means to hold Egypt from the grasp of Antony."
"So," she answered, looking up swift=
ly.
"Thou foolish man! Thou hadst done better to save thy labour, for Anto=
ny
will grasp Egypt in thy despite. What power hast thou to-day in Egypt?"=
;
"That he may do in my despite; but in des=
pite
of Cleopatra that he cannot do," I said.
"Nay, but with the aid of Cleopatra he can
and will do it," she answered with a bitter smile. "When the Queen
sails in state up Cydnus stream she will surely draw this coarse Antony the=
nce
to Alexandria, conquering, and yet, like thee, a slave!"
"It is false! I say that it is false!
Cleopatra goes not to Tarsus, and Antony comes not to Alexandria; or, if he
come, it will be to take the chance of war."
"Now, thinkest thou thus?" she answe=
red
with a little laugh. "Well, if it please thee, think as thou wilt. Wit=
hin
three days thou shalt know. It is pretty to see how easily thou art fooled.
Farewell! Go, dream on Love, for surely Love is sweet."
And she went, leaving me angered and troubled =
at
heart.
I saw Cleopatra no more that day, but on the d=
ay
which followed I saw her. She was in a heavy mood, and had no gentle word f=
or
me. I spake to her of the defence of Egypt, but she put the matter away.
"Why dost thou weary me?" she said w=
ith
anger; "canst thou not see that I am lost in troubles? When Dellius has
had his answer to-morrow then we will speak of these matters."
"Ay," I said, "when Dellius has=
had
his answer; and knowest thou that but yesterday, Charmion--whom about the
palace they name the 'Keeper of the Queen's secrets'--Charmion swore that t=
he
answer would be 'Go in peace, I come to Antony!'"
"Charmion knows nothing of my heart,"
said Cleopatra, stamping her foot in anger, "and if she talk so freely=
the
girl shall be scourged out of my Court, as is her desert. Though, in
truth," she added, "she has more wisdom in that small head of hers
than all my privy councillors--ay, and more wit to use it. Knowest thou tha=
t I
have sold a portion of those gems to the rich Jews of Alexandria, and at a
great price, ay, at five thousand sestertia for each one?[*] But a few, in
truth, for they could not buy more as yet. It was rare to see their eyes wh=
en
they fell upon them: they grew large as apples with avarice and wonder. And=
now
leave me, Harmachis, for I am weary. The memory of that dreadful night is w=
ith me
yet."
[=
*]
About forty thousand pounds of our money.--Editor.
I bowed and rose to go, and yet stood wavering=
.
"Pardon me, Cleopatra; it is of our
marriage."
"Our marriage! Why, are we not indeed alr=
eady
wed?" she answered.
"Yes; but not before the world. Thou didst
promise."
"Ay, Harmachis, I promised; and to-morrow,
when I have rid me of this Dellius, I will keep my promise, and name thee
Cleopatra's Lord before the Court. See that thou art in thy place. Art
content?"
And she stretched out her hand for me to kiss,
looking on me with strange eyes, as though she struggled with herself. Then=
I
went; but that night I strove once more to see Cleopatra, and could not.
"The Lady Charmion was with the Queen," so said the eunuchs, and =
none
might enter.
On the morrow the Court met in the great hall =
one
hour before mid-day, and I went thither with a trembling heart to hear
Cleopatra's answer to Dellius, and to hear myself also named King-consort to
the Queen of Egypt. It was a full and splendid Court; there were councillor=
s,
lords, captains, eunuchs, and waiting-women, all save Charmion. The house p=
assed,
but Cleopatra and Charmion came not. At length Charmion entered gently by a
side entrance, and took her place among the waiting-ladies about the throne.
Even as she did so she cast a glance at me, and there was triumph in her ey=
es,
though I knew not over what she triumphed. I little guessed that she had but
now brought about my ruin and sealed the fate of Egypt.
Then presently the trumpets blared, and, clad =
in
her robes of state, the uræus crown upon her head, and on her breast, flash=
ing
like a star, that great emerald scarabæus which she had dragged from dead
Pharaoh's heart, Cleopatra swept in splendour to her throne, followed by a
glittering guard of Northmen. Her lovely face was dark, dark were her slumb=
rous
eyes, and none might read their message, though all that Court searched them
for a sign of what should come. She seated herself slowly as one who may no=
t be
moved, and spoke to the chief of the heralds in the Greek tongue:
"Does the Ambassador of the noble Antony
wait?"
The herald bowed low and made assent.
"Let him come in and hear our answer.&quo=
t;
The doors were flung wide, and, followed by his
train of knights, Dellius, clad in his golden armour and his purple mantle,
walked with cat-like step up the great hall, and made obeisance before the
throne.
"Most royal and beauteous Egypt," he
said, in his soft voice, "as thou hast graciously been pleased to bid =
me,
thy servant, I am here to take thy answer to the letter of the noble Antony=
the
Triumvir, whom to-morrow I sail to meet at Tarsus, in Cilicia. And I will s=
ay this,
royal Egypt, craving pardon the while for the boldness of my speech--bethink
thee well before words that cannot be unspoken fall from those sweet lips. =
Defy
Antony, and Antony will wreck thee. But, like thy mother Aphrodité, rise gl=
orious
on his sight from the bosom of the Cyprian wave, and for wreck he will give
thee all that can be dear to woman's royalty--Empire, and pomp of place, ci=
ties
and the sway of men, fame and wealth, and the Diadem of rule made sure. For
mark: Antony holds this Eastern World in the hollow of his warlike hand; at=
his
will kings are, and at his frown they cease to be."
And he bowed his head and, folding his hands
meekly on his breast, awaited answer.
For a while Cleopatra answered not, but sat li=
ke
the Sphinx Horemkhu, dumb and inscrutable, gazing with lost eyes down the
length of that great hall.
Then, like soft music, her answer came; and
trembling I listened for Egypt's challenge to the Roman:
"Noble Dellius,--We have bethought us muc=
h of
the matter of thy message from great Antony to our poor Royalty of Egypt. We
have bethought us much, and we have taken counsel from the oracles of the G=
ods,
from the wisest among our friends, and from the teachings of our heart, tha=
t ever,
like a nesting bird, broods over our people's weal. Sharp are the words that
thou has brought across the sea; methinks they had been better fitted to the
ears of some petty half-tamed prince than to those of Egypt's Queen. Theref=
ore
we have numbered the legions that we can gather, and the triremes and the
galleys wherewith we may breast the sea, and the moneys which shall buy us =
all
things wanting to our war. And we find this, that, though Antony be strong,=
yet
has Egypt naught to fear from the strength of Antony."
She paused, and a murmur of applause of her hi=
gh
words ran down the hall. Only Dellius stretched out his hand as though to p=
ush
them back. Then came the end!
"Noble Dellius,--Half are we minded there=
to
bid our tongue stop, and, strong in our fortresses of stone, and our other
fortresses built of the hearts of men, abide the issue. And yet thou shalt =
not
go thus. We are guiltless of those charges against us that have come to the
ears of noble Antony, and which now he rudely shouts in ours; nor will we j=
ourney
into Cilicia to answer them."
Here the murmur arose anew, while my heart beat
high in triumph; and in the pause that followed, Dellius spoke once more.
"Then, royal Egypt, my word to Antony is =
word
of War?"
"Nay," she answered; "it shall =
be
one of Peace. Listen; we said that we would not come to make answer to these
charges, nor will we. But"--and she smiled for the first time--"we
will gladly come, and that swiftly, in royal friendship to make known our
fellowship of peace upon the banks of Cydnus."
I heard, and was bewildered. Could I hear arig=
ht?
Was it thus that Cleopatra kept her oaths? Moved beyond the hold of reason,=
I
lifted up my voice and cried:
"O Queen, remember!"
She turned upon me like a lioness, with a flas=
hing
of the eyes and a swift shake of her lovely head.
"Peace, Slave!" she said; "who =
bade
thee break in upon our counsels? Mind thou thy stars, and leave matters of =
the
world to the rulers of the world!"
I sank back shamed, and, as I did so, once mor=
e I
saw the smile of triumph on the face of Charmion, followed by what was,
perhaps, the shadow of pity for my fall.
"Now that yon brawling charlatan," s=
aid
Dellius, pointing at me with his jewelled finger, "has been rebuked, g=
rant
me leave, O Egypt, to thank thee from my heart for these gentle words----&q=
uot;
"We ask no thanks from thee, noble Delliu=
s;
nor lies it in thy mouth to chide our servant," broke in Cleopatra,
frowning heavily; "we will take thanks from the lips of Antony alone. =
Get
thee to thy master, and say to him that before he can make ready a fitting
welcome our keels shall follow in the track of thine. And now, farewell! Th=
ou
shalt find some small token of our bounty upon thy vessel."
Dellius bowed thrice and withdrew, while the C=
ourt
stood waiting the Queen's word. And I, too, waited, wondering if she would =
yet
make good her promise, and name me royal Spouse there in the face of Egypt.=
But
she said nothing. Only, still frowning heavily, she rose, and, followed by =
her
guards, left the throne, and passed into the Alabaster Hall. Then the Court=
broke
up, and as the lords and councillors went by they looked on me with mockery.
For though none knew all my secret, nor how it stood between me and Cleopat=
ra,
yet they were jealous of the favour shown me by the Queen, and rejoiced gre=
atly
at my fall. But I took no heed of their mocking as I stood dazed with misery
and felt the world of Hope slip from beneath my feet.
And at length, all being gone, I, too, turned =
to
go, when a eunuch struck me on the shoulder and roughly bade me wait on the
presence of the Queen. An hour past this fellow would have crawled to me on=
his
knees; but he had heard, and now he treated me--so brutish is the nature of
such slaves--as the world treats the fallen, with scorn. For to come low af=
ter
being great is to learn all shame. Unhappy, therefore, are the Great, for t=
hey
may fall!
I turned upon the slave with so fierce a word =
that,
cur-like, he sprang behind me; then I passed on to the Alabaster Hall, and =
was
admitted by the guards. In the centre of the hall, near the fountain, sat
Cleopatra, and with her were Charmion and the Greek girl Iras, and Merira a=
nd
other of her waiting-ladies. "Go," she said to these, "I wou=
ld
speak with my astrologer." So they went, and left us face to face.
"Stand thou there," she said, lifting
her eyes for the first time. "Come not nigh me, Harmachis: I trust thee
not. Perchance thou hast found another dagger. Now, what hast thou to say? =
By
what right didst thou dare to break in upon my talk with the Roman?"
I felt the blood rush through me like a storm;
bitterness and burning anger took hold of my heart. "What hast thou to
say, Cleopatra?" I answered boldly. "Where is thy vow, sworn on t=
he
dead heart of Menkau-ra, the ever-living? Where now thy challenge to this R=
oman
Antony? Where thy oath that thou wouldest call me 'husband' in the face of
Egypt?" and I choked and ceased.
"Well doth it become Harmachis, who never=
was
forsworn, to speak to me of oaths!" she said in bitter mockery. "=
And
yet, O thou most pure Priest of Isis; and yet, O thou most faithful friend,=
who
never didst betray thy friends; and yet, O thou most steadfast, honourable,=
and
upright man, who never bartered thy birthright, thy country, and thy cause =
for the
price of a woman's passing love--by what token knowest thou that my word is
void?"
"I will not answer thy taunts,
Cleopatra," I said, holding back my heart as best I might, "for I
have earned them all, though not from thee. By this token, then, I know it.
Thou goest to visit Antony; thou goest, as said that Roman knave, 'tricked =
in
thy best attire,' to feast with him whom thou shouldst give to vultures for
their feast. Perhaps, for aught I know, thou art about to squander those
treasures that thou hast filched from the body of Menkau-ra, those treasures
stored against the need of Egypt, upon wanton revels which shall complete t=
he
shame of Egypt. By these things, then, I know that thou art forsworn, and I,
who, loving thee, believed thee, tricked; and by this, also, that thou who =
didst
but yesternight swear to wed me, dost to-day cover me with taunts, and even
before that Roman put me to an open shame!"
"To wed thee? and I did swear to wed thee?
Well, and what is marriage? Is it the union of the heart, that bond beautif=
ul
as gossamer and than gossamer more light, which binds soul to soul, as they
float through the dreamy night of passion, a bond to be, perchance, melted =
in
the dews of dawn? Or is it the iron link of enforced, unchanging union wher=
eby
if sinks the one the other must be dragged beneath the sea of circumstance,=
there,
like a punished slave, to perish of unavoidable corruption?[*] Marriage! I =
to
marry! I to forget freedom and court the worst slavery of our sex, which, by
the selfish will of man, the stronger, still binds us to a bed grown hatefu=
l,
and enforces a service that love mayhap no longer hallows! Of what use, the=
n,
to be a Queen, if thereby I may not escape the evil of the meanly born? Mark
thou, Harmachis: Woman being grown hath two ills to fear--Death and Marriag=
e;
and of these twain is Marriage the more vile; for in Death we may find rest,
but in Marriage, should it fail us, we must find hell. Nay, being above the=
breath
of common slander that enviously would blast those who of true virtue will =
not
consent to stretch affection's links, I love, Harmachis; but I marry not!&q=
uot;
[=
*]
Referring to the Roman custom of chaining a living felon to the body of one already dead.--Ed=
itor.
"And yesternight, Cleopatra, thou didst s=
wear
that thou wouldst wed me, and call me to thy side before the face of
Egypt!"
"And yesternight, Harmachis, the red ring
round the moon marked the coming of the storm, and yet the day is fair! But=
who
knows that the tempest may not break to-morrow? Who knows that I have not
chosen the easier path to save Egypt from the Roman? Who knows, Harmachis, =
that
thou shalt not still call me wife?"
Then I no longer could bear her falsehood, for=
I
saw that she but played with me. And so I spoke that which was in my heart:=
"Cleopatra!" I cried, "thou did=
st
swear to protect Egypt, and thou art about to betray Egypt to the Roman! Th=
ou
didst swear to use the treasures that I revealed to thee for the service of
Egypt, and thou art about to use them to be her means of shame--to fashion =
them
as fetters for her wrists! Thou didst swear to wed me, who loved thee, and =
for
thee gave all, and thou dost mock me and reject me! Therefore I say--with t=
he voice
of the dread Gods I say it!--that on thee shall fall the curse of Menkau-ra,
whom thou hast robbed indeed! Let me go hence and work out my fate! Let me =
go,
O thou fair Shame! thou living Lie! whom I have loved to my doom, and who h=
ast
brought upon me the last curse of doom! Let me hide myself and see thy face=
no
more!"
She rose in her wrath, and she was terrible to
see.
"Let thee go to stir up evil against me! =
Nay,
Harmachis, thou shalt not go to build new plots against my throne! I say to
thee that thou, too, shalt come to visit Antony in Cilicia, and there,
perchance, I will let thee go!" And ere I could answer, she had struck
upon the silver gong that hung near her.
Before its rich echo had died away, Charmion a=
nd
the waiting-women entered from one door, and from the other, a file of
soldiers--four of them of the Queen's bodyguard, mighty men, with winged
helmets and long fair hair.
"Seize that traitor!" cried Cleopatr=
a,
pointing to me. The captain of the guard--it was Brennus--saluted and came
towards me with drawn sword.
But I, being mad and desperate, and caring lit=
tle
if they slew me, flew straight at his throat, and dealt him such a heavy bl=
ow
that the great man fell headlong, and his armour clashed upon the marble fl=
oor.
As he fell I seized his sword and targe, and, meeting the next, who rushed =
on me
with a shout, caught his blow upon the shield, and in answer smote with all=
my
strength. The sword fell where the neck is set into the shoulder, and, shea=
ring
through the joints of his harness, slew him, so that his knees were loosened
and he sank down dead. And the third, as he came, I caught upon the point o=
f my
sword before he could strike, and it pierced him and he died. Then the last
rushed on me with a cry of "Taranis!" and I, too, rushed on him, =
for
my blood was aflame. Now the women shrieked--only Cleopatra said nothing, b=
ut
stood and watched the unequal fray. We met, and I struck with all my streng=
th,
and it was a mighty blow, for the sword shore through the iron shell and
shattered there, leaving me weaponless. With a shout of triumph the guard s=
wung
up his sword and smote down upon my head, but I caught the blow with my shi=
eld.
Again he smote, and again I parried; but when he raised his sword a third t=
ime
I saw this might not endure, so with a cry I hurled my buckler at his face.
Glancing from his shield it struck him on the breast and staggered him. The=
n,
before he could gain his balance, I rushed in beneath his guard and gripped=
him
round the middle.
For a full minute the tall man and I struggled=
furiously,
and then, so great was my strength in those days, I lifted him like a toy a=
nd
dashed him down upon the marble floor in such fashion that his bones were s=
hattered
so that he spoke no more. But I could not save myself and fell upon him, an=
d as
I fell the Captain Brennus, whom I had smitten to earth with my fist, having
once more found his sense, came up behind me and smote me upon the head and
shoulders with the sword of one of those whom I had slain. But I being on t=
he
ground, the blow did not fall with all its weight, also my thick hair and
broidered cap broke its force; and thus it came to pass that, though sorely
wounded, the life was yet whole in me. But I could struggle no more.
Then the cowardly eunuchs, who had gathered at=
the
sound of blows and stood huddled together like a herd of cattle, seeing tha=
t I
was spent, threw themselves upon me, and would have butchered me with their
knives. But Brennus, now that I was down, would strike no more, but stood w=
aiting.
And the eunuchs had surely slain me, for Cleopatra watched like one who wat=
ches
in a dream and made no sign. Already my head was dragged back, and their
knife-points were at my throat, when Charmion, rushing forward, threw herse=
lf
upon me and, calling them "Dogs!" desperately thrust her body bef=
ore
them in such fashion that they could not smite. Now Brennus with an oath se=
ized
first one and then another and cast them from me.
"Spare his life, Queen!" he cried in=
his
barbarous Latin. "By Jupiter, he is a brave man! Myself felled like an=
ox
in the shambles, and three of my boys finished by a man without armour and
taken unawares! I grudge them not to such a man! A boon, Queen! spare his l=
ife,
and give him to me!"
"Ay, spare him! spare him!" cried
Charmion, white and trembling.
Cleopatra drew near and looked upon the dead a=
nd
him who lay dying as I had dashed him to the ground, and on me, her lover of
two days gone, whose wounded head rested now on Charmion's white robes.
I met the Queen's glance. "Spare not!&quo=
t; I
gasped; "væ victis!" Then a flush gathered on her brow--methinks =
it
was a flush of shame!
"Dost after all love this man at heart,
Charmion," she said with a little laugh, "that thou didst thrust =
thy
tender body between him and the knives of these sexless hounds?" and s=
he
cast a look of scorn upon the eunuchs.
"Nay!" the girl answered fiercely;
"but I cannot stand by to see a brave man murdered by such as these.&q=
uot;
"Ay!" said Cleopatra, "he is a
brave man, and he fought gallantly; I have never seen so fierce a fight eve=
n in
the games at Rome! Well, I spare his life, though he is weak of me--womanish
weak. Take him to his own chamber and guard him there till he is healed
or--dead."
Then my brain reeled, a great sickness seized =
upon
me, and I sank into the nothingness of a swoon.
Dreams, dreams, dreams! without end and
ever-changing, as for years and years I seemed to toss upon a sea of agony.=
And
through them a vision of a dark-eyed woman's tender face and the touch of a
white hand soothing me to rest. Visions, too, of a royal countenance bendin=
g at
times over my rocking bed--a countenance that I could not grasp, but whose
beauty flowed through my fevered veins and was a part of me--visions of chi=
ldhood
and of the Temple towers of Abouthis, and of the white-haired Amenemhat, my
father--ay, and an ever-present vision of that dread hall in Amenti, and of=
the
small altar and the Spirits clad in flame! There I seemed to wander
everlastingly, calling on the Holy Mother, whose memory I could not grasp;
calling ever and in vain! For no cloud descended upon the altar, only from =
time
to time the great Voice pealed aloud: "Strike out the name of Harmachi=
s,
child of Earth, from the living Book of Her who Was and Is and Shall Be! Lo=
st!
lost! lost!"
And then another voice would answer:
"Not yet! not yet! Repentance is at hand; strike not out the name of Harmachis, child of Earth, from the living Book = of Her who Was and Is and Shall Be! By suffering may sin be wiped away!"<= o:p>
I woke to find myself in my own chamber in the
tower of the palace. I was so weak that I scarce could lift my hand, and li=
fe
seemed but to flutter in my breast as flutters a dying dove. I could not tu=
rn
my head; I could not stir; yet in my heart there was a sense of rest and of
dark trouble done. The light from the lamp hurt my eyes: I shut them, and, =
as I
shut them, heard the sweep of a woman's robes upon the stair, and a swift,
light step that I knew well. It was that of Cleopatra!
She entered and drew near. I felt her come! Ev=
ery
pulse of my poor frame beat an answer to her footfall, and all my mighty lo=
ve
and hate rose from the darkness of my death-like sleep, and rent me in their
struggle! She leaned over me; her ambrosial breath played upon my face: I c=
ould
hear the beating of her heart! Lower she leaned, till at last her lips touc=
hed
me softly on the brow.
"Poor man!" I heard her murmur.
"Poor, weak, dying Man! Fate hath been hard to thee! Thou wert too goo=
d to
be the sport of such a one as I--the pawn that I must move in my play of
policy! Ah, Harmachis! thou shouldst have ruled the game! Those plotting
priests could give thee learning; but they could not give thee knowledge of
mankind, nor fence thee against the march of Nature's law. And thou didst l=
ove
me with all thy heart--ah! well I know it! Manlike, thou didst love the eyes
that, as a pirate's lights, beckoned thee to shipwrecked ruin, and didst ha=
ng doting
on the lips which lied thy heart away and called thee 'slave'! Well; the ga=
me
was fair, for thou wouldst have slain me; and yet I grieve. So thou dost di=
e?
and this is my farewell to thee! Never may we meet again on earth; and,
perchance, it is well, for who knows, when my hour of tenderness is past, h=
ow I
might deal with thee, didst thou live? Thou dost die, they say--those learn=
ed
long-faced fools, who, if they let thee die, shall pay the price. And where,
then, shall we meet again when my last throw is thrown? We shall be equal
there, in the kingdom that Osiris rules. A little time, a few years--perhaps
to-morrow--and we shall meet; then, knowing all I am, how wilt thou greet m=
e?
Nay, here, as there, still must thou worship me! for injuries cannot touch =
the immortality
of such a love as thine. Contempt alone, like acid, can eat away the love of
noble hearts, and reveal the truth in its pitiful nakedness. Thou must still
cling to thee, Harmachis; for, whatever my sins, yet I am great and set abo=
ve
thy scorn. Would that I could have loved thee as thou lovest me! Almost I d=
id
so when thou slewest those guards; and yet--not quite.
"What a fenced city is my heart, that none
can take it, and, even when I throw the gates wide, no man may win its cita=
del!
Oh, to put away this loneliness and lose me in another's soul! Oh, for a ye=
ar,
a month, an hour to quite forget policy, peoples, and my pomp of place, and=
be
but a loving woman! Harmachis, fare thee well! Go join great Julius whom th=
y art
called up from death before me, and take Egypt's greetings to him. Ah well!=
I
fooled thee, and I fooled Cæsar--perchance before all is done Fate will find
me, and myself I shall be fooled. Harmachis, fare thee well!"
She turned to go, and as she turned I heard the
sweep of another dress and the light fall of another woman's foot.
"Ah! it is thou, Charmion. Well, for all =
thy
watching the man dies."
"Ay," she answered, in a voice thick=
with
grief. "Ay, O Queen, so the physicians say. Forty hours has he lain in
stupor so deep that at times his breath could barely lift this tiny feather=
's
weight, and hardly could my ear, placed against his breast, take notice of =
the
rising of his heart. I have watched him now for ten long days, watched him =
day
and night, till my eyes stare wide with want of sleep, and for faintness I =
can
scarce keep myself from falling. And this is the end of all my labour! The
coward blow of that accursed Brennus has done its work, and Harmachis
dies!"
"Love counts not its labour, Charmion, nor
can it weight its tenderness on the scale of purchase. That which it has it
gives, and craves for more to give and give, till the soul's infinity be
drained. Dear to thy heart are these heavy nights of watching; sweet to thy
weary eyes is that sad sight of strength brought so low that it hangs upon =
thy weakness
like a babe to its mother's breast! For, Charmion, thou dost love this man =
who
loves thee not, and now that he is helpless thou canst pour thy passion for=
th
over the unanswering darkness of his soul, and cheat thyself with dreams of
what yet might be."
"I love him not, as thou hast proof, O Qu=
een!
How can I love one who would have slain thee, who art as my heart's sister?=
It
is for pity that I nurse him."
She laughed a little as she answered, "Pi=
ty
is love's own twin, Charmion. Wondrous wayward are the paths of woman's lov=
e,
and thou hast shown thine strangely, that I know. But the more high the lov=
e,
the deeper the gulf whereinto it can fall--ay, and thence soar again to hea=
ven,
once more to fall! Poor woman! thou art thy passion's plaything: now tender=
as
the morning sky, and now, when jealousy grips thy heart, more cruel than the
sea. Well, thus are we made. Soon, after all this troubling, nothing will be
left thee but tears, remorse, and--memory."
And she went forth.
Cleopatra went, and for a while I lay silent,
gathering up my strength to speak. But Charmion came and stood over me, and=
I
felt a great tear fall from her dark eyes upon my face, as the first heavy =
drop
of rain falls from a thunder cloud.
"Thou goest," she whispered; "t=
hou
goest fast whither I may not follow! O Harmachis, how gladly would I give my
life for thine!"
Then at length I opened my eyes, and spoke as =
best
I could:
"Restrain thy grief, dear friend," I
said, "I live yet; and, in truth, I feel as though new life gathered i=
n my
breast!"
She gave a little cry of joy, and I never saw
aught more beautiful than the change that came upon her weeping face! It wa=
s as
when the first lights of the day run up the pallor of that sad sky which ve=
ils
the night from dawn. All rosy grew her lovely countenance; her dim eyes sho=
ne
out like stars; and a smile of wonderment, more sweet than the sudden smile=
of
the sea as its ripples wake to brightness beneath the kiss of the risen moo=
n,
broke through her rain of tears.
"Thou livest!" she cried, throwing
herself on her knees beside my couch. "Thou livest--and I thought thee
gone! Thou art come back to me! Oh! what say I? How foolish is a woman's he=
art!
'Tis this long watching! Nay; sleep and rest thee, Harmachis!--why dost thou
talk? Not one more word, I command thee straitly! Where is the draught left=
by that
long-bearded fool? Nay thou shalt have no draught! There, sleep, Harmachis;
sleep!" and she crouched down at my side and laid her cool hand upon my
brow, murmuring, "Sleep! sleep!"
And when I woke there she was still, but the
lights of dawn were peeping through the casement. There she knelt, one hand
upon my forehead, and her head, in all its disarray of curls, resting upon =
her
outstretched arm.
"Charmion," I whispered, "have I
slept?"
Instantly she was wide awake, and, gazing on me
with tender eyes, "Yea, thou hast slept, Harmachis."
"How long, then, have I slept?"
"Nine hours."
"And thou hast held thy place there, at my
side, for nine long hours?"
"Yes, it is nothing; I also have slept--I
feared to waken thee if I stirred."
"Go, rest," I said; "it shames =
me
to think of this thing. Go rest thee, Charmion!"
"Vex not thyself," she answered;
"see, I will bid a slave watch thee, and to wake me if thou needest au=
ght;
I sleep there, in the outer chamber. Peace--I go!" and she strove to r=
ise,
but, so cramped was she, fell straightway on the floor.
I can scarcely tell the sense of shame that fi=
lled
me when I saw her fall. Alas! I could not stir to help her.
"It is naught," she said; "move
not, I did but catch my foot. There!" and she rose, again to fall--&qu=
ot;a
pest upon my awkwardness! Why--I must be sleeping. 'Tis well now. I'll send=
the
slave;" and she staggered thence like one overcome with wine.
And after that, I slept once more, for I was v=
ery
weak. When I woke it was afternoon, and I craved for food, which Charmion
brought me.
I ate. "Then I die not," I said.
"Nay," she answered, with a toss of =
her
head, "thou wilt live. In truth, I did waste my pity on thee."
"And thy pity saved my life," I said
wearily, for now I remembered.
"It is nothing," she answered
carelessly. "After all, thou art my cousin; also, I love nursing--it i=
s a
woman's trade. Like enough I had done as much for any slave. Now, too, that=
the
danger is past, I leave thee."
"Thou hadst done better to let me die,
Charmion," I said after a while, "for life to me can now be only =
one
long shame. Tell me, then, when sails Cleopatra for Cilicia?"
"She sails in twenty days, and with such =
pomp
and glory as Egypt has never seen. Of a truth, I cannot guess where she has
found the means to gather in this store of splendour, as a husbandman gathe=
rs
his golden harvest."
But I, knowing whence the wealth came, groaned=
in
bitterness of spirit, and made no answer.
"Goest thou also, Charmion?" I asked
presently.
"Ay, I and all the Court. Thou, too--thou
goest."
"I go? Nay, why is this?"
"Because thou art Cleopatra's slave, and =
must
march in gilded chains behind her chariot; because she fears to leave thee =
here
in Khem; because it is her will, and there is an end."
"Charmion, can I not escape?"
"Escape, thou poor sick man? Nay, how can=
st
thou escape? Even now thou art most strictly guarded. And if thou didst esc=
ape,
whither wouldst thou fly? There's not an honest man in Egypt but would spit=
on
thee in scorn!"
Once more I groaned in spirit, and, being so v=
ery
weak, I felt the tears roll adown my cheek.
"Weep not!" she said hastily, and
turning her face aside. "Be a man, and brave these troubles out. Thou =
hast
sown, now must thou reap; but after harvest the waters rise and wash away t=
he
rotting roots, and then seed-time comes again. Perchance, yonder in Cilicia=
, a
way may be found, when once more thou art strong, by which thou mayst fly--=
if
in truth thou canst bear thy life apart from Cleopatra's smile; then in some
far land must thou dwell till these things are forgotten. And now my task i=
s done,
so fare thee well! At times I will come to visit thee and see that thou nee=
dest
nothing."
So she went, and I was nursed thenceforward, a=
nd
that skilfully, by the physician and two women-slaves; and as my wound heal=
ed
so my strength came back to me, slowly at first, then most swiftly. In four
days from that time I left my couch, and in three more I could walk an hour=
in
the palace gardens; another week and I could read and think, though I went =
no
more to Court. And at length one afternoon Charmion came and bade me make
ready, for the fleet would sail in two days, first for the coast of Syria, =
and
thence to the gulf of Issus and Cilicia.
Thereon, with all formality, and in writing, I
craved leave of Cleopatra that I might be left, urging that my health was so
feeble that I could not travel. But a message was sent to me in answer that=
I
must come.
And so, on the appointed day, I was carried in=
a
litter down to the boat, and together with that very soldier who had cut me
down, the Captain Brennus, and others of his troop (who, indeed, were sent =
to guard
me), we rowed aboard a vessel where she lay at anchor with the rest of the
great fleet. For Cleopatra was voyaging as though to war in much pomp, and
escorted by a fleet of ships, among which her galley, built like a house and
lined throughout with cedar and silken hangings, was the most beautiful and
costly that the world has ever seen. But I went not on this vessel, and
therefore it chanced that I did not see Cleopatra or Charmion till we lande=
d at
the mouth of the river Cydnus.
The signal being made, the fleet set sail; and,
the wind being fair, we came to Joppa on the evening of the second day. The=
nce
we sailed slowly with contrary winds up the coast of Syria, making Cæsarea,=
and
Ptolemais, and Tyrus, and Berytus, and past Lebanon's white brow crowned wi=
th
his crest of cedars, on to Heraclea and across the gulf of Issus to the mou=
th
of Cydnus. And ever as we journeyed, the strong breath of the sea brought b=
ack
my health, till at length, save for a line of white upon my head where the
sword had fallen, I was almost as I had been. And one night, as we drew near
Cydnus, while Brennus and I sat alone together on the deck, his eye fell up=
on
the white mark his sword had made, and he swore a great oath by his heathen
Gods. "An thou hadst died, lad," he said, "methinks I could
never again have held up my head! Ah! that was a coward stroke, and I am sh=
amed
to think that it was I who struck it, and thou on the ground with thy back =
to
me! Knowest thou that when thou didst lie between life and death, I came ev=
ery
day to ask tidings of thee? and I swore by Taranis that if thou didst die I=
'd
turn my back upon that soft palace life and then away for the bonny
North."
"Nay, trouble not, Brennus," I answe=
red;
"it was thy duty."
"Mayhap! but there are duties that a brave
man should not do--nay, not at the bidding of any Queen who ever ruled in
Egypt! Thy blow had dazed me or I had not struck. What is it, lad?--art in
trouble with this Queen of ours? Why art thou dragged a prisoner upon this
pleasure party? Knowest thou that we are strictly charged that if thou dost
escape our lives shall pay the price?"
"Ay, in sore trouble, friend," I
answered; "ask me no more."
"Then, being of the age thou art, there's=
a
woman in it--that I swear--and, perchance, though I am rough and foolish, I
might make a guess. Look thou, lad, what sayest thou? I am weary of this
service of Cleopatra and this hot land of deserts and of luxury, that sap a
man's strength and drain his pocket; and so are others whom I know of. What=
sayest
thou: let's take one of these unwieldy vessels and away to the North? I'll =
lead
thee to a better land than Egypt--a land of lake and mountain, and great
forests of sweet-scented pine; ay, and find thee a girl fit to mate with--my
own niece--a girl strong and tall, with wide blue eyes and long fair hair, =
and
arms that could crack thy ribs were she of a mind to hug thee! Come, what
sayest thou? Put away the past, and away for the bonny North, and be a son =
to
me."
For a moment I thought, and then sadly shook my
head; for though I was sorely tempted to be gone, I knew that my fate lay in
Egypt, and I might not fly my fate.
"It may not be, Brennus," I answered.
"Fain would I that it might be, but I am bound by a chain of destiny w=
hich
I cannot break, and in the land of Egypt I must live and die."
"As thou wilt, lad," said the old
warrior. "I should have dearly loved to marry thee among my people, and
make a son of thee. At the least, remember that while I am here thou hast
Brennus for a friend. And one thing more; beware of that beauteous Queen of
thine, for, by Taranis, perhaps an hour may come when she will hold that th=
ou
knowest too much, and then----" and he drew his hand across his throat.
"And now good night; a cup of wine, then to sleep, for to-morrow the
foolery----"
[Here several lengths of the second roll of
papyrus are so broken as to be undecipherable. They seem to have been
descriptive of Cleopatra's voyage up the Cydnus to the city of Tarsus.]
"And--[the writing continues]--to those w=
ho
could take joy in such things, the sight must, indeed, have been a gallant =
one.
For the stern of our galley was covered with sheets of beaten gold, the sai=
ls
were of the scarlet of Tyre, and the oars of silver touched the water to a =
measure
of music. And there, in the centre of the vessel, beneath an awning ablaze =
with
gold embroidery, lay Cleopatra, attired as the Roman Venus (and surely Venus
was not more fair!), in thin robes of whitest silk, bound in beneath her br=
east
with a golden girdle delicately graven over with scenes of love. All about =
her
were little rosy boys, chosen for their beauty, and clad in naught save dow=
ny
wings strapped upon their shoulders, and on their backs Cupid's bow and qui=
ver,
who fanned her with fans of plumes. Upon the vessel's decks, handling the
cordage, that was of silken web, and softly singing to the sound of harps a=
nd
the beat of oars, were no rough sailors, but women lovely to behold, some r=
obed
as Graces and some as Nereids--that is, scarce robed at all, except in their
scented hair. And behind the couch, with drawn sword, stood Brennus, in
splendid armour and winged helm of gold; and by him others--I among them--in
garments richly worked, and knew that I was indeed a slave! On the high poop
also burned censers filled with costliest incense, of which the fragrant st=
eam
hung in little clouds about our wake."
Thus, as in a dream of luxury, followed by many
ships, we glided on towards the wooded slopes of Taurus, at whose foot lay =
that
ancient city Tarshish. And ever as we came the people gathered on the banks=
and
ran before us, shouting: "Venus is risen from the sea! Venus hath come=
to visit
Bacchus!" We drew near to the city, and all its people--everyone who c=
ould
walk or be carried--crowded down in thousands to the docks, and with them c=
ame
the whole army of Antony, so that at length the Triumvir was left alone upon
the judgment seat.
Dellius, the false-tongued, came also, fawning=
and
bowing, and in the name of Antony gave the "Queen of Beauty"
greeting, bidding her to a feast that Antony had made ready. But she made h=
igh
answer, and said, "Forsooth, it is Antony who should wait on us; not w=
e on
Antony. Bid the noble Antony to our poor table this night--else we dine
alone."
Dellius went, bowing to the ground; the feast =
was
made ready; and then at last I set eyes on Antony. He came clad in purple
robes, a great man and beautiful to see, set in the stout prime of life, wi=
th
bright eyes of blue, and curling hair, and features cut sharply as a Grecian
gem. For he was great of form and royal of mien, and with an open countenan=
ce on
which his thoughts were so clearly written that all might read them; only t=
he
weakness of the mouth belied the power of the brow. He came attended by his
generals, and when he reached the couch where Cleopatra lay he stood
astonished, gazing on her with wide-opened eyes. She, too, gazed on him
earnestly; I saw the red blood run up beneath her skin, and a great pang of
jealousy seized upon my heart. And Charmion, who saw all beneath her downca=
st
eyes, saw this also and smiled. But Cleopatra spoke no word, only she stret=
ched
out her white hand for him to kiss; and he, saying no word, took her hand a=
nd
kissed it.
"Behold, noble Antony!" she said at =
last
in her voice of music, "thou hast called me, and I am come."
"Venus has come," he answered in his
deep notes, and still holding his eyes fixed upon her face. "I called a
woman--a Goddess hath risen from the deep!"
"To find a God to greet her on the
land," she laughed with ready wit. "Well, a truce to compliments,=
for
being on the earth even Venus is ahungered. Noble Antony, thy hand."
The trumpets blared, and through the bowing cr=
owd
Cleopatra, followed by her train, passed hand in hand with Antony to the fe=
ast.
[Here there is another break in the papyrus.]<= o:p>
On the third night the feast was once more
prepared in the hall of the great house that had been set aside to the use =
of
Cleopatra, and on this night its splendour was greater even than on the nig=
hts
before. For the twelve couches that were set about the table were embossed =
with
gold, and those of Cleopatra and Antony were of gold set with jewels. The d=
ishes
also were all of gold set with jewels, the walls were hung with purple clot=
hs
sewn with gold, and on the floor, covered with a net of gold, fresh roses w=
ere
strewn ankle-deep, that as the slaves trod them sent up their perfume. Once
again I was bidden to stand, with Charmion and Iras and Merira, behind the
couch of Cleopatra, and, like a slave, from time to time call out the hours=
as
they flew. And there being no help, I went wild at heart; but this I swore-=
-it
should be for the last time, since I could not bear that shame. For though I
would not yet believe what Charmion told me--that Cleopatra was about to be=
come
the Love of Antony--yet I could no more endure this ignominy and torture. F=
or
from Cleopatra now I had no words save such as a Queen speaks to her slave,=
and
methinks it gave her dark heart pleasure to torment me.
Thus it came to pass that I, the Pharaoh, crow=
ned
of Khem, stood among eunuchs and waiting-women behind the couch of Egypt's
Queen while the feast went merrily and the wine-cup passed. And ever Antony
sat, his eyes fixed upon the face of Cleopatra, who from time to time let h=
er deep
glance lose itself in his, and then for a little while their talk died away.
For he told her tales of war and of deeds that he had done--ay, and love-je=
sts
such as are not meet for the ears of women. But she took offence at nothing;
rather, falling into his humour, she would cap his stories with others of a
finer wit, but not less shameless.
At length, the rich meal being finished, Antony
gazed at the splendour around him.
"Tell me, then, most lovely Egypt," =
he
said; "are the sands of Nile compact of gold, that thou canst, night by
night, thus squander the ransom of a King upon a single feast? Whence comes
this untold wealth?"
I bethought me of the tomb of the Divine
Menkau-ra, whose holy treasure was thus wickedly wasted, and looked up so t=
hat
Cleopatra's eye caught mine; but, reading my thoughts, she frowned heavily.=
"Why, noble Antony," she said,
"surely it is nothing! In Egypt we have our secrets, and know whence to
conjure riches at our need. Say, what is the value of this golden service, =
and
of the meats and drinks that have been set before us?"
He cast his eyes about, and hazarded a guess.<= o:p>
"Maybe a thousand sestertia."[*]
[=
*]
About eight thousand pounds of English money.--Editor.
"Thou hast understated it by half, noble
Antony! But such as it is I will give it thee and those with thee as a free
token of my friendship. And more will I show thee now: I myself will eat and
drink ten thousand sestertia at a draught."
"That cannot be, fair Egypt!"
She laughed, and bade a slave bring her white =
vinegar
in a glass. When it was brought she set it before her and laughed again, wh=
ile
Antony, rising from his couch, drew near and set himself at her side, and a=
ll the
company leant forward to see what she would do. And this she did. She took =
from
her ear one of those great pearls which last of all had been drawn from the
body of the Divine Pharaoh; and before any could guess her purpose she let =
it
fall into the vinegar. Then came silence, the silence of wonder, and slowly=
the
priceless pearl melted in the strong acid. When it was melted she lifted the
glass and shook it, then drank the vinegar, to the last drop.
"More vinegar, slave!" she cried;
"my meal is but half finished!" and she drew forth the second pea=
rl.
"By Bacchus, no! that shalt thou not!&quo=
t;
cried Antony, snatching at her hands; "I have seen enough;" and at
that moment, moved to it by I know not what, I called aloud:
"The hour falls, O Queen!--the hour of the
coming of the curse of Menkau-ra!"
An ashy whiteness grew upon Cleopatra's face, =
and
she turned upon me furiously, while all the company gazed wondering, not
knowing what the words might mean.
"Thou ill-omened slave!" she cried.
"Speak thus once more and thou shalt be scourged with rods!--ay, scour=
ged
like an evildoer--that I promise thee, Harmachis!"
"What means the knave of an astrologer?&q=
uot;
asked Antony. "Speak, sirrah! and make clear thy meaning, for those who
deal in curses must warrant their wares."
"I am a servant of the Gods, noble Antony.
That which the Gods put in my mind that must I say; nor can I read their
meaning," I answered humbly.
"Oh, oh! thou servest the Gods, dost thou,
thou many-coloured mystery?" This he said having reference to my splen=
did
robes. "Well, I serve the Goddesses, which is a softer cult. And there=
's
this between us: that though what they put in my mind I say, neither can I =
read
their meaning," and he glanced at Cleopatra as one who questions.
"Let the knave be," she said
impatiently; "to-morrow we'll be rid of him. Sirrah, begone!"
I bowed and went; and, as I went, I heard Anto=
ny
say: "Well, he may be a knave--for that all men are--but this for thy
astrologer: he hath a royal air and the eye of a King--ay, and wit in it.&q=
uot;
Without the door I paused, not knowing what to=
do,
for I was bewildered with misery. And, as I stood, someone touched me on the
hand. I glanced up--it was Charmion, who in the confusion of the rising of =
the
guests, had slipped away and followed me.
For in trouble Charmion was ever at my side.
"Follow me," she whispered; "th=
ou
art in danger."
I turned and followed her. Why should I not?
"Whither go we?" I asked at length.<= o:p>
"To my chamber," she said. "Fear
not; we ladies of Cleopatra's Court have small good fame to lose; if anyone=
by
chance should see us, they'll think that it is a love-tryst, and such are a=
ll
the fashion."
I followed, and, presently, skirting the crowd=
, we
came unseen to a little side entrance that led to a stair, up which we pass=
ed.
The stair ended in a passage; we turned down it till we found a door on the
left hand. Charmion entered silently, and I followed her into a dark chambe=
r. Being
in, she barred the door and, kindling tinder to a flame, lit a hanging lamp=
. As
the light grew strong I gazed around. The chamber was not large, and had but
one casement, closely shuttered. For the rest, it was simply furnished, hav=
ing
white walls, some chests for garments, an ancient chair, what I took to be a
tiring table, on which were combs, perfumes, and all the frippery that pert=
ains
to woman, and a white bed with a broidered coverlid, over which was hung a
gnat-gauze.
"Be seated, Harmachis," she said,
pointing to the chair. I took the chair, and Charmion, throwing back the
gnat-gauze, sat herself upon the bed before me.
"Knowest thou what I heard Cleopatra say =
as
thou didst leave the banqueting-hall?" she asked presently.
"Nay, I know not."
"She gazed after thee, and, as I went ove=
r to
her to do some service, she murmured to herself: 'By Serapis, I will make an
end! I will wait no longer: to-morrow he shall be strangled!'"
"So!" I said, "it may be; thoug=
h,
after all that has been, I can scarce believe that she will murder me."=
;
"Why canst thou not believe it, thou most
foolish of men? Dost forget how nigh thou wast to death there in the Alabas=
ter
Hall? Who saved thee then from the knives of the eunuchs? Was it Cleopatra?=
Or
was it I and Brennus? Stay, I will tell thee. Thou canst not yet believe it,
because, in thy folly, thou dost not think it possible that the woman who h=
as
but lately been as a wife to thee can now, in so short a time, doom thee to=
be
basely done to death. Nay, answer not--I know all; and I tell thee this: th=
ou
hast not measured the depth of Cleopatra's perfidy, nor canst thou dream the
blackness of her wicked heart. She had surely slain thee in Alexandria had =
she
not feared that thy slaughter being noised abroad might bring trouble on he=
r.
Therefore has she brought thee here to kill thee secretly. For what more ca=
nst
thou give her? She has thy heart's love, and is wearied of thy strength and
beauty. She has robbed thee of thy royal birthright and brought thee, a Kin=
g,
to stand amidst the waiting-women behind her at her feasts; she has won from
thee the great secret of the holy treasure!"
"Ah, thou knowest that?"
"Yes, I know all; and to-night thou seest=
how
the wealth stored against the need of Khem is being squandered to fill up t=
he
wanton luxury of Khem's Macedonian Queen! Thou seest how she has kept her o=
ath
to wed thee honourably. Harmachis--at length thine eyes are open to the
truth!"
"Ay, I see too well; and yet she swore she
loved me, and I, poor fool, I believed her!"
"She swore she loved thee!" answered
Charmion, lifting her dark eyes: "now I will show thee how she loves t=
hee.
Knowest thou what was this house? It was a priest's college; and, as thou w=
ottest,
Harmachis, priests have their ways. This little room aforetime was the room=
of the
Head Priest, and the chamber that is beyond and below was the gathering-pla=
ce
of the other priests. The old slave who keeps the house told me all this, a=
nd
also she revealed what I shall show thee. Now, Harmachis, be silent as the
dead, and follow me!"
She blew out the lamp, and by the little light
that crept through the shuttered casement led me by the hand to the far cor=
ner
of the room. Here she pressed upon the wall, and a door opened in its
thickness. We entered, and she closed the spring. Now we were in a little
chamber, some five cubits in length by four in breadth; for a faint light s=
truggled
into the closet, and also the sound of voices, I knew not whence. Loosing my
hand, she crept to the end of the place, and looked steadfastly at the wall;
then crept back and, whispering "Silence!" led me forward with he=
r.
Then I saw that there were eyeholes in the wall, which pierced it, and were
hidden on the farther side by carved work in stone. I looked through the ho=
le
that was in front of me, and I saw this: six cubits below was the level of =
the
floor of another chamber, lit with fragrant lamps, and most richly furnishe=
d.
It was the sleeping-place of Cleopatra, and there, within ten cubits of whe=
re
we stood, sat Cleopatra on a gilded couch, and by her side sat Antony.
"Tell me," Cleopatra murmured--for t=
his
place was so built that every word spoken in the room below came to the ear=
s of
the listener above--"tell me, noble Antony, wast pleased with my poor
festival?"
"Ay," he answered in his deep soldie=
r's
voice, "ay, Egypt, I have made feasts, and been bidden to feasts, but
never saw I aught like thine; and I tell thee this, though I am rough of to=
ngue
and unskilled in pretty sayings such as women love, thou wast the richest s=
ight
of all that splendid board. The red wine was not so red as thy beauteous ch=
eek,
the roses smelt not so sweet as the odour of thy hair, and no sapphire ther=
e with
its changing light was so lovely as thy eyes of ocean blue."
"What! Praise from Antony! Sweet words fr=
om
the lips of him whose writings are so harsh! Why, it is praise indeed!"=
;
"Ay," he went on, "it was a roy=
al
feast, though I grieve that thou didst waste that great pearl; and what mea=
nt
that hour-calling astrologer of thine, with his ill-omened talk of the curs=
e of
Menkau-ra?"
A shadow fled across her glowing face. "I
know not; he was lately wounded in a brawl, and methinks the blow has crazed
him."
"He seemed not crazed, and there was that
about his voice which rings in my ears like some oracle of fate. So wildly,
too, he looked upon thee, Egypt, with those piercing eyes of his, like one =
who
loved and yet hated through the love."
"He is a strange man, I tell thee, noble
Antony, and a learned. Myself, at times, I almost fear him, for he is deeply
versed in the ancient arts of Egypt. Knowest thou that the man is of royal
blood, and once he plotted to slay me? But I won him over, and slew him not,
for he had the key to secrets that I fain would learn; and, indeed, I loved=
his
wisdom, and to listen to his deep talk of all hidden things."
"By Bacchus, I grow jealous of the knave!=
And
now, Egypt?"
"And now I have sucked his knowledge dry,=
and
have no more cause to fear him. Didst thou not see that I have made him sta=
nd
these three nights a slave amid my slaves, and call aloud the hours as they
fled in festival. No captive King marching in thy Roman triumphs can have
suffered pangs so keen as that proud Egyptian Prince when he stood shamed
behind my couch."
Here Charmion laid her hand on mine and pressed
it, as though in tenderness.
"Well, he shall trouble us no more with h=
is
words of evil omen," Cleopatra went on slowly; "to-morrow morn he
dies--dies swiftly and in secret, leaving no trace of what his fate has bee=
n.
On this is my mind fixed; of a truth, noble Antony, it is fixed. Even as I
speak the fear of this man grows and gathers in my breast. Half am I minded=
to
give the word even now, for I breathe not freely till he be dead," and=
she
made as though to rise.
"Let it be till morning," he said,
catching her by the hand; "the soldiers drink, and the deed will be ill
done. 'Tis pity too. I love not to think of men slaughtered in their
sleep."
"In the morning, perchance, the hawk may =
have
flown," she answered, pondering. "He hath keen ears, this Harmach=
is,
and can summon things to aid him that are not of the earth. Perchance, even=
now
he hears me in the spirit; for, of a truth, I seem to feel his presence
breathing round me. I could tell thee--but no, let him be! Noble Antony, be=
my tiring-woman
and loose me this crown of gold, it chafes my brow. Be gentle, hurt me
not--so."
He lifted the uræus crown from her brows, and =
she
shook loose her heavy weight of hair that fell about her like a garment.
"Take back thy crown, royal Egypt," =
he
said, speaking low, "take it from my hand; I will not rob thee of it, =
but
rather set it more firmly on that beauteous brow."
"What means my Lord?" she asked, smi=
ling
and looking into his eyes.
"What mean I? Why then, this: thou camest
hither at my bidding to make answer of the charges laid against thee as to
matters politic. And knowest thou, Egypt, that hadst thou been other than t=
hou
art thou hadst not gone back to queen it on the Nile; for of this I am sure,
the charges against thee are true in fact. But, being what thou art--and lo=
ok
thou! never did Nature serve a woman better!--I forgive thee all. For the s=
ake
of thy grace and beauty I forgive thee that which had not been forgiven to
virtue, or to patriotism, or to the dignity of age! See now how good a thin=
g is
woman's wit and loveliness, that can make kings forget their duty and cozen
even blindfolded Justice to peep ere she lifts her sword! Take back thy cro=
wn,
O Egypt! It is now my care that, though it be heavy, it shall not chafe
thee."
"These are royal words, most notable
Antony," she made answer; "gracious and generous words, such as b=
efit
the Conqueror of the world! And touching my misdeeds in the past--if misdee=
ds
there have been--I say this, and this alone--then I knew not Antony. For,
knowing Antony, who could sin against him? What woman could lift a sword
against one who must be to all women as a God--one who, seen and known, dra=
ws
after him the whole allegiance of the heart, as the sun draws flowers? And =
what
more can I say and not cross the bounds of woman's modesty? Why, only this-=
-set
that crown upon my brow, great Antony, and I will take it as a gift from th=
ee,
by the giving made doubly dear, and to thy uses I will guard it.
"There, now I am thy vassal Queen, and
through me all old Egypt that I rule does homage to Antony the Triumvir, who
shall be Antony the Emperor of Rome and Khem's Imperial Lord!"
And, having set the crown upon her locks, he s=
tood
gazing on her, grown passionate in the warm breath of her living beauty, ti=
ll
at length he caught her by both hands and drawing her to him kissed her thr=
ice,
saying:
"Cleopatra, I love thee, Sweet--I love th=
ee
as I never loved before." She drew back from his embrace, smiling soft=
ly;
and as she did so the golden circlet of the sacred snakes fell, being but
loosely set upon her brow, and rolled away into the darkness beyond the rin=
g of
light.
I saw the omen, and even in the bitter anguish=
of
my heart knew its evil import. But these twain took no note.
"Thou lovest me?" she said, most
sweetly; "how know I that thou lovest me? Perchance it is Fulvia whom =
thou
lovest--Fulvia, thy wedded wife?"
"Nay, it is not Fulvia, 'tis thou, Cleopa=
tra,
and thou alone. Many women have looked favourably upon me from my boyhood u=
p,
but to never a one have I known such desire as to thee, O thou Wonder of the
World, like unto whom no woman ever was! Canst thou love me, Cleopatra, and=
to
me be true, not for my place or power, not for that which I can give or can=
withhold,
not for the stern music of my legion's tramp, or for the light that flows f=
rom
my bright Star of Fortune; but for myself, for the sake of Antony, the rough
captain, grown old in camps? Ay, for the sake of Antony the reveller, the
frail, the unfixed of purpose, but who yet never did desert a friend, or ro=
b a
poor man, or take an enemy unawares? Say, canst thou love me, Egypt? Oh! if
thou wilt, why, I am more happy than though I sat to-night in the Capitol at
Rome crowned absolute Monarch of the World!"
And, ever as he spoke, she gazed on him with
wonderful eyes, and in them shone a light of truth and honesty such as was
strange to me.
"Thou speakest plainly," she said,
"and thy words are sweet to mine ears--they would be sweet, even were
things otherwise than they are, for what woman would not love to see the
world's master at her feet? But things being as they are, why, Antony, what=
can
be so sweet as thy sweet words? The harbour of his rest to the storm-tossed
mariner--surely that is sweet! The dream of Heaven's bliss which cheers the
poor ascetic priest on his path of sacrifice--surely that is sweet! The sig=
ht
of Dawn, the rosy-fingered, coming in his promise to glad the watching Eart=
h--surely
that is sweet! But, ah! not one of these, nor all dear delightful things th=
at
are, can match the honey-sweetness of thy words to me, O Antony! For thou
knowest not--never canst thou know--how drear my life hath been, and empty,
since thus it is ordained that in love only can woman lose her solitude! An=
d I
have never loved--never might I love--till this happy night! Ay, take me in=
thy
arms, and let us swear a great vow of love--an oath that may not be broken
while life is in us! Behold! Antony! now and for ever I do vow most strict
fidelity unto thee! Now and for ever I am thine, and thine alone!"
Then Charmion took me by the hand and drew me
thence.
"Hast seen enough?" she asked, when =
we
were once more within the chamber and the lamp was lit.
"Yea," I answered; "my eyes are
opened."
For some while I sat with bowed head, and the =
last
bitterness of shame sank into my soul. This, then, was the end. For this I =
had
betrayed my oaths; for this I had told the secret of the pyramid; for this I
had lost my Crown, my Honour, and, perchance, my hope of Heaven! Could ther=
e be
another man in the wide world so steeped in sorrow as I was that night? Sur=
ely
not one! Where should I turn? What could I do? And even through the tempest=
of
my torn heart the bitter voice of jealousy called aloud. For I loved this
woman, to whom I had given all; and she at this moment--she was----Ah! I co=
uld
not bear to think of it; and in my utter agony, my heart burst in a river of
tears such as are terrible to weep!
Then Charmion drew near me, and I saw that she,
too, was weeping.
"Weep not, Harmachis!" she sobbed,
kneeling at my side. "I cannot endure to see thee weep. Oh! why wouldst
thou not be warned? Then hadst thou been great and happy, and not as now.
Listen, Harmachis! Thou didst hear what that false and tigerish woman
said--to-morrow she hands thee over to the murderers!"
"It is well," I gasped.
"Nay: it is not well. Harmachis, give her=
not
this last triumph over thee. Thou hast lost all save life: but while life
remains, hope remains also, and with hope the chance of vengeance."
"Ah!" I said, starting from my seat.
"I had not thought of that. Ay--the chance of vengeance! It would be s=
weet
to be avenged!"
"It would be sweet, Harmachis, and yet
this--Vengeance is an arrow that in falling oft pierces him who shot it.
Myself--I know it," and she sighed. "But a truce to talk and grie=
f.
There will be time for us twain to grieve, if not to talk, in all the heavy
coming years. Thou must fly--before the coming of the light must thou fly. =
Here
is a plan. To-morrow, ere the dawn, a galley that but yesterday came from A=
lexandria,
bearing fruit and stores, sails thither again, and its captain is known to =
me,
but to thee he is not known. Now, I will find thee the garb of a Syrian
merchant, and cloak thee, as I know how, and furnish thee with a letter to =
the
captain of the galley. He shall give thee passage to Alexandria; for to him
thou wilt seem but as a merchant going on the business of thy trade. Brennu=
s is
officer of the guard to-night, and Brennus is a friend to me and thee. Perh=
aps
he will guess somewhat; or, perhaps, he will not guess; at the least, the
Syrian merchant shall safely pass the lines. What sayest thou?"
"It is well," I answered wearily;
"little do I reck the issue."
"Rest thou, then, here, Harmachis, while I
make these matters ready; and, Harmachis, grieve not overmuch; there are ot=
hers
who should grieve more heavily than thou." And she went, leaving me al=
one
with my agony which rent me like a torture-bed. Had it not been for that fi=
erce
desire of vengeance which from time to time flashed across my tormented min=
d as
the lightning over a midnight sea, methinks my reason had left me in that d=
ark
hour. At length I heard her footstep at the door, and she entered, breathing
heavily, for she bore a sack of clothing in her arms.
"It is well," she said: "here is
the garb with spare linen, and writing-tablets, and all things needful. I h=
ave
seen Brennus also, and told him that a Syrian merchant would pass the guard=
an
hour before the dawn. And though he made pretence of sleep, I think he
understood, for he answered, yawning, that if they but had the pass-word,
'Antony,' fifty Syrian merchants might go through about their lawful busine=
ss.
And here is the letter to the captain--thou canst not mistake the galley, f=
or
she is moored along to the right--a small galley, painted black, as thou do=
st
enter on the great quay, and, moreover, the sailors make ready for sailing.=
Now
I will wait here without, while thou dost put off the livery of thy service=
and
array thyself."
When she was gone I tore off my gorgeous garme=
nts
and spat upon them and trod them on the ground. Then I put on the modest ro=
be
of a merchant, and bound the tablets round me, on my feet the sandals of
untanned hide, and at my waist the knife. When it was done Charmion entered
once again and looked on me.
"Too much art thou still the royal
Harmachis," she said; "see, it must be changed."
Then she took scissors from her tiring-table, =
and,
bidding me be seated, she cut off my locks, clipping the hair close to the
head. Next she found stains of such sort as women use to make dark the eyes,
and mixed them cunningly, rubbing the stuff on my face and hands and on the
white mark in my hair where the sword of Brennus had bitten to the bone.
"Now thou art changed--somewhat for the
worse, Harmachis," she said, with a dreary laugh, "scarce myself
should I know thee. Stay, there is one more thing," and, going to a ch=
est
of garments, she drew thence a heavy bag of gold.
"Take thou this," she said; "th=
ou
wilt have need of money."
"I cannot take thy gold, Charmion."<= o:p>
"Yes, take it. It was Sepa who gave it to=
me
for the furtherance of our cause, and therefore it is fitting that thou
shouldst spend it. Moreover, if I want money, doubtless Antony, who is
henceforth my master, will give me more; he is much beholden to me, and thi=
s he
knows well. There, waste not the precious time in haggling o'er the pelf--n=
ot yet
art thou all a merchant, Harmachis;" and, without more words, she thru=
st
the pieces into the leather bag that hung across my shoulders. Then she made
fast the sack containing the spare garments, and, so womanly thoughtful was
she, placed in it an alabaster jar of pigment, with which I might stain my
countenance afresh, and, taking the broidered robes of my office that I had
cast off, hid them in the secret passage. And so at last all was made ready=
.
"Is it time that I should go," I ask=
ed.
"Not yet a while. Be patient, Harmachis, =
for
but one little hour more must thou endure my presence, and then, perchance,
farewell for ever."
I made a gesture signifying that this was no t=
ime
for sharp words.
"Forgive me my quick tongue," she sa=
id;
"but from a salt spring bitter waters well. Be seated, Harmachis; I ha=
ve
heavier words to speak to thee before thou goest."
"Say on," I answered; "words,
however heavy, can move me no more."
She stood before me with folded hands, and the
lamp-light shone upon her beauteous face. I noticed idly how great was its =
pallor
and how wide and dark were the rings about the deep black eyes. Twice she
lifted her white face and strove to speak, twice her voice failed her; and =
when
at last it came it was in a hoarse whisper.
"I cannot let thee go," she
said--"I cannot let thee go unwitting of the truth.
"Harmachis, 'twas I who did betray
thee!"
I sprang to my feet, an oath upon my lips; but=
she
caught me by the hand.
"Oh, be seated," she said--"be
seated and hear me; then, when thou hast heart, do to me as thou wilt. List=
en.
From that evil moment when, in the presence of thy uncle Sepa, for the seco=
nd
time I set eyes upon thy face, I loved thee--how much, thou canst little gu=
ess.
Think upon thine own love for Cleopatra, and double it, and double it again,
and perchance thou mayst come near to my love's mighty sum. I loved thee, d=
ay
by day I loved thee more, till in thee and for thee alone I seemed to live.=
But
thou wast cold--thou wast worse than cold! thou didst deal with me not as a
breathing woman, but rather as the instrument to an end--as a tool with whi=
ch
to grave thy fortunes. And then I saw--yes, long before thou knewest it
thyself--thy heart's tide was setting strong towards that ruinous shore whe=
reon
to-day thy life is broken. And at last that night came, that dreadful night
when, hid within the chamber, I saw thee cast my kerchief to the winds, and
with sweet words cherish my royal Rival's gift. Then--oh, thou knowest--in =
my
pain I betrayed the secret that thou wouldst not see, and thou didst make a
mock of me, Harmachis! Oh! the shame of it--thou in thy foolishness didst m=
ake
a mock of me! I went thence, and within me were rising all the torments whi=
ch
can tear a woman's heart, for now I was sure that thou didst love Cleopatra!
Ay, and so mad was I, even that night I was minded to betray thee: but I
thought--not yet, not yet; to-morrow he may soften. Then came the morrow, a=
nd
all was ready for the bursting of the great plot that should make thee Phar=
aoh.
And I too came--thou dost remember--and again thou didst put me away when I
spake to thee in parables, as something of little worth--as a thing too sma=
ll
to claim a moment's weighty thought. And, knowing that this was because--th=
ough
thou knewest it not--thou didst love Cleopatra, whom now thou must straight=
way
slay, I grew mad, and a wicked Spirit entered into me, possessing me utterl=
y, so
that I was myself no longer, nor could control myself. And because thou had=
st
scorned me, I did this, to my everlasting shame and sorrow!--I passed into
Cleopatra's presence and betrayed thee and those with thee, and our holy ca=
use,
saying that I had found a writing which thou hadst let fall and read all th=
is
therein."
I gasped and sat silent; and gazing sadly at me
she went on:
"When she understood how great was the pl=
ot,
and how deep its roots, Cleopatra was much troubled; and, at first, she wou=
ld
have fled to Sais or taken ship and run for Cyprus, but I showed her that t=
he
ways were barred. Then she said she would cause thee to be slain, there, in=
the
chamber, and I left her so believing; for, at that hour, I was glad that th=
ou
shouldst be slain--ay, even if I wept out my heart upon thy grave, Harmachi=
s.
But what said I just now?--Vengeance is an arrow that oft falls on him who
looses it. So it was with me; for between my going and thy coming Cleopatra
hatched a deeper plan. She feared that to slay thee would only be to light a
fiercer fire of revolt; but she saw that to bind thee to her, and, having l=
eft
men awhile in doubt, to show thee faithless, would strike the imminent dang=
er at
its roots and wither it. This plot once formed, being great, she dared its
doubtful issue, and--need I go on? Thou knowest, Harmachis, how she won; and
thus the shaft of vengeance that I loosed fell upon my own head. For on the=
morrow
I knew that I had sinned for naught, that the burden of my betrayal had been
laid on the wretched Paulus, and that I had but ruined the cause to which I=
was
sworn and given the man I loved to the arms of wanton Egypt."
She bowed her head awhile, and then, as I spoke
not, once more went on:
"Let all my sin be told, Harmachis, and t=
hen
let justice come. See now, this thing happened. Half did Cleopatra learn to
love thee, and deep in her heart she bethought her of taking thee to wedded
husband. For the sake of this half love of hers she spared the lives of tho=
se
in the plot whom she had meshed, bethinking her that if she wedded thee she
might use them and thee to draw the heart of Egypt, which loves not her nor=
any
Ptolemy. And then, once again she entrapped thee, and in thy folly thou did=
st
betray to her the secret of the hidden wealth of Egypt, which to-day she
squanders to delight the luxurious Antony; and, of a truth, at that time she
purposed to make good her oath and marry thee. But on the very morn when
Dellius came for answer she sent for me, and telling me all--for my wit, ab=
ove
any, she holds at price--demanded of me my judgment whether she should defy
Antony and wed thee, or whether she should put the thought away and come to
Antony. And I--now mark thou all my sin--I, in my bitter jealousy, rather t=
han
I would see her thy wedded wife and thou her loving lord, counselled her mo=
st
strictly that she should come to Antony, well knowing--for I had had speech
with Dellius--that if she came, this weak Antony would fall like a ripe fru=
it at
her feet, as, indeed, he has fallen. And but now I have shown thee the issu=
e of
the scheme. Antony loves Cleopatra and Cleopatra loves Antony, and thou art
robbed, and matters have gone well for me, who of all women on the earth
to-night am the wretchedest by far. For when I saw how thy heart broke but =
now,
my heart seemed to break with thine, and I could no longer bear the burden =
of
my evil deeds, but knew that I must tell them and take my punishment.
"And now, Harmachis, I have no more to sa=
y;
save that I thank thee for thy courtesy in hearkening, and this one thing I
add. Driven by my great love I have sinned against thee unto death! I have
ruined thee, I have ruined Khem, and myself also I have ruined! Let death
reward me! Slay thou me, Harmachis--I will gladly die upon thy sword; ay, a=
nd
kiss its blade! Slay thou me and go; for if thou slayest me not, myself I w=
ill surely
slay!" And she threw herself upon her knees, lifting her fair breast
toward me, that I might smite her with my dagger. And, in my bitter fury, I=
was
minded to strike; for, above all, I thought how, when I was fallen, this wo=
man,
who herself was my cause of shame, had scourged me with her whip of scorn. =
But
it is hard to slay a fair woman; and, even as I lifted my hand to strike, I
remembered that she had now twice saved my life.
"Woman! thou shameless woman!" I sai=
d,
"arise! I slay thee not! Who am I, that I should judge thy crime, that,
with mine own, doth overtop all earthly judgment?"
"Slay me, Harmachis!" she moaned;
"slay me, or I slay myself! My burden is too great for me to bear! Be =
not
so deadly calm! Curse me, and slay!"
"What was it that thou didst say to me ju=
st
now, Charmion--that as I had sown so I must reap? It is not lawful that thou
shouldst slay thyself; it is not lawful that I, thine equal in sin, should =
slay
thee because through thee I sinned. As thou hast sown, Charmion, so must th=
ou also
reap. Base woman! whose cruel jealousy has brought all these woes on me and
Egypt, live--live on, and from year to year pluck the bitter fruit of crime!
Haunted be thy sleep by visions of thy outraged Gods, whose vengeance awaits
thee and me in their dim Amenti! Haunted be thy days by memories of that man
whom thy fierce love brought to shame and ruin, and by the sight of Khem a =
prey
to the insatiate Cleopatra and a slave to Roman Antony."
"Oh, speak not thus, Harmachis! Thy words=
are
sharper than any sword; and more surely, if more slowly, shall they slay!
Listen, Harmachis," and she grasped my robe: "when thou wast grea=
t,
and all power lay within thy grasp, thou didst reject me. Wilt reject me now
that Cleopatra hast cast thee from her--now that thou art poor and shamed a=
nd
with no pillow to thy head? Still am I fair, and still I worship thee. Let =
me
fly with thee, and make atonement for my lifelong love. Or, if this be too
great a thing to ask, let me be but as thy sister and thy servant--thy very=
slave,
so that I may still look upon thy face, and share thy trouble and minister =
to
thee. O Harmachis, let me but come and I will brave all things and endure a=
ll
things, and nothing but Death himself shall stay me from thy side. For I do
believe that the love that sank me to so low a depth, dragging thee with me,
can yet lift me to an equal height, and thee with me!"
"Wouldst tempt me to fresh sin, woman? And
dost thou think, Charmion, that in some hovel where I must hide, I could be=
ar,
day by day, to look upon thy fair face, and seeing, remember that those lips
betrayed me? Not thus easily shalt thou atone! This I know even now: many a=
nd
heavy shall be thy lonely days of penance! Perchance that hour of vengeance=
yet
may come, and perchance thou shalt live to play thy part in it. Thou must s=
till
abide in the Court of Cleopatra; and, while thou art there, if I yet live, I
will from time to time find means to give thee tidings. Perhaps a day may d=
awn
when once more I shall need thy service. Now, swear that, in this event, th=
ou
wilt not fail me a second time."
"I swear, Harmachis!--I swear! May
everlasting torments, too hideous to be dreamed--more hideous, even, by far,
than those that wring me now--be my portion if I fail thee in one jot or
tittle--ay, though I wait a lifetime for thy word!"
"It is well; see that thou keep the oath-=
-not
twice may we betray. I go to work out my fate; abide thou to work out thine.
Perchance our divers threads will once more mingle ere the web be spun.
Charmion, who unasked didst love me--and who, prompted by that gentle love =
of
thine, didst betray and ruin me--fare thee well!"
She gazed wildly upon my face--she stretched o=
ut
her arms as though to clasp me; then, in the agony of her despair, she cast
herself at length and grovelled upon the ground.
I took up the sack of clothing and the staff a=
nd
gained the door, and, as I passed it, I threw one last glance upon her. The=
re
she lay, with arms outstretched--more white than her white robes--her dark =
hair
streaming about her, and her fair brows hidden in the dust.
And thus I left her, nor did I again set my ey=
es
upon her till nine long years had come and gone.
[Here ends the second and largest roll of
papyrus.]
<=
span
style=3D'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-fa=
reast-font-family:
Calibri'>CHAPTER I - OF THE ESCAPE OF HARMACHIS FROM TARSUS; OF HIS BEING C=
AST
FORTH AS AN OFFERING TO THE GODS OF THE SEA; OF HIS SOJOURN IN THE ISLE OF =
CYPRUS;
OF HIS RETURN TO ABOUTHIS; AND OF THE DEATH OF AMENEMHAT<=
span
style=3D'mso-bookmark:_Toc395198312'>
I made my way down the stair in safety, and
presently stood in the courtyard of that great house. It was but an hour fr=
om
dawn, and none were stirring. The last reveller had drunk his fill, the dan=
cing-girls
had ceased their dancing, and silence lay upon the city. I drew near the ga=
te,
and was challenged by an officer who stood on guard, wrapped in a heavy clo=
ak.
"Who passes," said the voice of Bren=
nus.
"A merchant, may it please you, Sir, who,
having brought gifts from Alexandria to a lady of the Queen's household, an=
d,
having been entertained of the lady, now departs to his galley," I
answered in a feigned voice.
"Umph!" he growled. "The ladies=
of
the Queen's household keep their guests late. Well; it is a time of festiva=
l.
The pass-word, Sir Shopkeeper? Without the pass-word you must needs return =
and
crave the lady's further hospitality."
"'Antony,' Sir; and a right good word, to=
o.
Ah! I've wandered far, and never saw I so goodly a man or so great a genera=
l.
And, mark you, Sir! I've travelled far, and seen many generals."
"Ay; 'Antony''s the word! And Antony is a
good general in his way--when it is a sober way, and when he cannot find a
skirt to follow. I've served with Antony--and against him, too; and know his
points. Well, well; he's got an armful now!"
And all this while that he was holding me in t=
alk,
the sentry had been pacing to and fro before the gate. But now he moved a
little way to the right, leaving the entrance clear.
"Fare thee well, Harmachis, and begone!&q=
uot;
whispered Brennus, leaning forward and speaking quickly. "Linger not. =
But
at times bethink thee of Brennus who risked his neck to save thine. Farewel=
l,
lad, I would that we were sailing North together," and he turned his b=
ack
upon me and began to hum a tune.
"Farewell, Brennus, thou honest man,"=
; I
answered, and was gone. And, as I heard long afterwards, when on the morrow=
the
hue and cry was raised because the murderers could not find me, though they
sought me everywhere to slay me, Brennus did me a service. For he swore tha=
t as
he kept his watch alone an hour after midnight he saw me come and stand upon
the parapet of the roof, that then I stretched out my robes and they became
wings on which I floated up to Heaven, leaving him astonished. And all those
about the Court lent ear to this history, believing in it, because of the g=
reat
fame of my magic; and they wondered much what the marvel might portend. The
tale also travelled into Egypt, and did much to save my good name among tho=
se
whom I had betrayed; for the more ignorant among them believed that I acted=
not
of my will, but of the will of the dread Gods, who of their own purpose waf=
ted
me into Heaven. And thus to this day the saying runs that "When Harmac=
his
comes again Egypt shall be free." But alas, Harmachis comes no more! O=
nly
Cleopatra, though she was much afraid, doubted her of the tale, and sent an
armed vessel to search for the Syrian merchant, but not to find him, as sha=
ll
be told.
When I reached the galley of which Charmion had
spoken, I found her about to sail, and gave the writing to the captain, who
conned it, looking on me curiously, but said nothing.
So I went aboard, and immediately we dropped
swiftly down the river with the current. And having come to the mouth of the
river unchallenged, though we passed many vessels, we put out to sea with a
strong favouring wind that before night freshened to a great gale. Then the
sailor men, being much afraid, would have put about and run for the mouth of
Cydnus again, but could not because of the wildness of the sea. All that ni=
ght it
blew furiously, and by dawn our mast was carried away, and we rolled helple=
ssly
in the trough of the great waves. But I sat wrapped in a cloak, little heed=
ing;
and because I showed no fear the sailors cried out that I was a wizard, and
sought to cast me into the sea, but the captain would not. At dawn the wind
slackened, but ere noon it once more blew in terrible fury, and at the four=
th
hour from noon we came in sight of the rocky coast of that cape in the isla=
nd
of Cyprus which is called Dinaretum, where is a mountain named Olympus, and
thither-wards we drifted swiftly. Then, when the sailors saw the terrible
rocks, and how the great waves that smote on them spouted up in foam, once =
more
they grew much afraid, and cried out in their fear. For, seeing that I stil=
l sat
unmoved, they swore that I certainly was a wizard, and came to cast me fort=
h as
a sacrifice to the Gods of the sea. And this time the captain was over-rule=
d,
and said nothing. Therefore, when they came to me I rose and defied them,
saying, "Cast me forth, if ye will; but if ye cast me forth ye shall
perish."
For in my heart I cared little, having no more=
any
love of life, but rather a desire to die, though I greatly feared to pass i=
nto
the presence of my Holy Mother Isis. But my weariness and sorrow at the bit=
terness
of my lot overcame even this heavy fear; so that when, being mad as brute
beasts, they seized me and, lifting me, hurled me into the raging waters, I=
did
but utter one prayer to Isis and made ready for death. But it was fated tha=
t I
should not die; for, when I rose to the surface of the water, I saw a spar =
of
wood floating near me, to which I swam and clung. And a great wave came and
swept me, riding, as it were, upon the spar, as when a boy I had learned to=
do
in the waters of the Nile, past the bulwarks of the galley where the
fierce-faced sailors clustered to see me drown. And when they saw me come
mounted on the wave, cursing them as I came, and saw, too, that the colour =
of
my face had changed--for the salt water had washed way the pigment, they sh=
rieked
with fear and threw themselves down upon the deck. And within a very little
while, as I rode toward the rocky coast, a great wave poured into the vesse=
l,
that rolled broadside on, and pressed her down into the deep, whence she ro=
se
no more.
So she sank with all her crew. And in that same
storm also sank the galley which Cleopatra had sent to search for the Syrian
merchant. Thus all traces of me were lost, and of a surety she believed tha=
t I
was dead.
But I rode on toward the shore. The wind shrie=
ked
and the salt waves lashed my face as, alone with the tempest, I rushed upon=
my
way, while the sea-birds screamed about my head. I felt no fear, but rather=
a
wild uplifting of the heart; and in the stress of my imminent peril the lov=
e of
life seemed to waken again. And so I plunged and drifted, now tossed high
toward the lowering clouds, now cast into the deep valleys of the sea, till=
at
length the rocky headland loomed before me, and I saw the breakers smite up=
on
the stubborn rocks, and through the screaming of the wind heard the sullen
thunder of their fall and the groan of stones sucked seaward from the beach.
On! high-throned upon the mane of a mighty billow--fifty cubits beneath me =
the
level of the hissing waters; above me the inky sky! It was done! The spar w=
as
torn from me, and, dragged downwards by the weight of the bag of gold and t=
he
clinging of my garments, I sank struggling furiously.
Now I was under--the green light for a moment
streamed through the waters, and then came darkness, and on the darkness
pictures of the past. Picture after picture--all the long scene of life was
written here. Then in my ears I only heard the song of the nightingale, the=
murmur
of the summer sea, and the music of Cleopatra's laugh of victory, following=
me
softly and yet more soft as I sank away to sleep.
Once more my life came back, and with it a sen=
se
of deadly sickness and of aching pain. I opened my eyes and saw a kind face=
bending
over me, and knew that I was in the room of a builded house.
"How came I hither?" I asked faintly=
.
"Of a truth, Poseidon brought thee,
Stranger," answered a rough voice in barbarous Greek; "we found t=
hee
cast high upon the beach like a dead dolphin and brought thee to our house,=
for
we are fisher-folk. And here, methinks, thou must lie a while, for thy left=
leg
is broken by the force of the waves."
I strove to move my foot and could not. It was
true, the bone was broken above the knee.
"Who art thou, and how art thou named?&qu=
ot;
asked the rough-bearded sailor.
"I am an Egyptian traveller whose ship has
sunk in the fury of the gale, and I am named Olympus," I answered, for
these people called a mountain that we had sighted Olympus, and therefore I
took the name at hazard. And as Olympus I was henceforth known.
Here with these rough fisher-folk I abode for =
the
half of a year, paying them a little out of the sum of gold that had come
safely ashore upon me. For it was long before my bones grew together again,=
and
then I was left somewhat of a cripple; for I, who had been so tall and stra=
ight
and strong, now limped--one limb being shorter than the other. And after I =
recovered
from my hurt, I still lived there, and toiled with them at the trade of
fishing; for I knew not whither I should go or what I should do, and, for a
while, I was fain to become a peasant fisherman, and so wear my weary life
away. And these people entreated me kindly, though, as others, they feared =
me
much, holding me to be a wizard brought hither by the sea. For my sorrows h=
ad
stamped so strange an aspect on my face that men gazing at me grew fearful =
of
what lay beneath its calm.
There, then, I abode, till at length, one nigh=
t as
I lay and strove to sleep, great restlessness came upon me, and a mighty de=
sire
once more to see the face of Sihor. But whether this desire was of the Gods=
or
born of my own heart, not knowing, I cannot tell. So strong was it, at the =
least,
that before it was dawn I rose from my bed of straw and clothed myself in my
fisher garb, and, because I had no wish to answer questions, thus I took
farewell of my humble hosts. First I placed some pieces of gold on the
well-cleaned table of wood, and then taking a pot of flour I strewed it in =
the
form of letters, writing:
"This gift from Olympus, the Egyptian, who
returns into the sea."
Then I went, and on the third day I came to the
great city of Salamis, that is also on the sea. Here I abode in the fisherm=
en's
quarters till a vessel was about to sail for Alexandria, and to the captain=
of
this vessel, a man of Paphos, I hired myself as a sailor. We sailed with a =
favouring
wind, and on the fifth day I came to Alexandria, that hateful city, and saw=
the
light dancing on its golden domes.
Here I might not abide. So again I hired myself
out as a sailor, giving my labour in return for passage, and we passed up t=
he
Nile. And I learned from the talk of men that Cleopatra had come back to
Alexandria, drawing Antony with her and that they lived together with royal
state in the palace on the Lochias. Indeed, the boatmen already had a song =
thereon,
which they sang as they laboured at the oar. Also I heard how the galley th=
at
was sent to search for the vessel which carried the Syrian merchant had
foundered with all her crew, and the tale that the Queen's astronomer,
Harmachis, had flown to Heaven from the roof of the house at Tarsus. And the
sailors wondered because I sat and laboured and would not sing their ribald
song of the loves of Cleopatra. For they, too, began to fear me, and mutter
concerning me among themselves. Then I knew that I was a man accursed and s=
et
apart--a man whom none might love.
On the sixth day we drew nigh to Abouthis, whe=
re I
left the craft, and the sailors were right glad to see me go. And, with a
breaking heart, I walked through the fertile fields, seeing faces that I kn=
ew
well. But in my rough disguise and limping gait none knew me. At length, as=
the
sun sank, I came near to the great outer pylon of the temple; and here I cr=
ouched
down in the ruins of a house, not knowing why I had come or what I was abou=
t to
do. Like a lost ox I had strayed from far, back to the fields of my birth, =
and
for what? If my father, Amenemhat, still lived, surely he would turn his fa=
ce
from me. I dared not go into the presence of my father. I sat hidden there
among the broken rafters, and idly watched the pylon gates, to see if,
perchance, a face I knew should issue from them. But none came forth or ent=
ered
in, though the great gates stood wide; and then I saw that herbs were growi=
ng
between the stones, where no herbs had grown for ages. What could this be? =
Was
the temple deserted? Nay; how could the worship of the eternal Gods have ce=
ased,
that for thousands of years had, day by day, been offered in the holy place?
Was, then, my father dead? It well might be. And yet, why this silence? Whe=
re
were the priests: where the worshippers?
I could bear the doubt no more, but as the sun
sank red I crept like a hunted jackal through the open gates, and on till I
reached the first great Hall of Pillars. Here I paused and gazed around me-=
-not
a sight, not a sound, in the dim and holy place! I went on with a beating h=
eart
to the second great hall, the hall of six-and-thirty pillars where I had be=
en
crowned Lord of all the Lands: still not a sight or a sound! Thence, half
fearful of my own footfall, so terribly did it echo in the silence of the
deserted Holies, I passed down the passage of the names of the Pharaohs tow=
ards
my father's chamber. The curtain still swung over the doorway; but what wou=
ld
there be within?--also emptiness? I lifted it, and noiselessly passed in, a=
nd
there in his carven chair at the table on which his long white beard flowed,
sat my father, Amenemhat, clad in his priestly robes. At first I thought th=
at
he was dead, he sat so still; but at length he turned his head, and I saw t=
hat his
eyes were white and sightless. He was blind, and his face was thin as the f=
ace
of a dead man, and woeful with age and grief.
I stood still and felt the blind eyes wandering
over me. I could not speak to him--I dared not speak to him; I would go and
hide myself afresh.
I had already turned and grasped the curtain, =
when
my father spoke in a deep, slow voice:
"Come hither, thou who wast my son and ar=
t a
traitor. Come hither, thou Harmachis, on whom Khem builded up her hope. Not=
in
vain, then, have I drawn thee from far away! Not in vain have I held my lif=
e in
me till I heard thy footfall creeping down these empty Holies, like the
footfall of a thief!"
"Oh! my father," I gasped, astonishe=
d.
"Thou art blind: how knowest thou me?"
"How do I know thee?--and askest thou that
who hast learned of our lore? Enough, I know thee and I brought thee hither.
Would, Harmachis, that I knew thee not! Would that I had been blasted of the
Invisible ere I drew thee down from the womb of Nout, to be my curse and sh=
ame,
and the last woe of Khem!"
"Oh, speak not thus!" I moaned; &quo=
t;is
not my burden already more than I can bear? Am I not myself betrayed and
utterly outcast? Be pitiful, my father!"
"Be pitiful!--be pitiful to thee who hast
shown so great pity? It was thy pity which gave up noble Sepa to die beneath
the hands of the tormentors!"
"Oh, not that--not that!" I cried.
"Ay, traitor, that!--to die in agony, with
his last poor breath proclaiming thee, his murderer, honest and innocent! Be
pitiful to thee, who gavest all the flower of Khem as the price of a wanton=
's arms!--thinkest
thou that, labouring in the darksome desert mines, those noble ones in thou=
ght
are pitiful to thee, Harmachis? Be pitiful to thee, by whom this Holy Templ=
e of
Abouthis hath been ravaged, its lands seized, its priests scattered, and I
alone, old and withered, left to count out its ruin--to thee, who hast pour=
ed
the treasures of Her into thy leman's lap, who hast forsworn Thyself, thy
Country, thy Birthright, and thy Gods! Yea, thus am I pitiful: Accursed be
thou, fruit of my loins!--Shame be thy portion, Agony thy end, and Hell rec=
eive
thee at the last! Where art thou? Yea, I grew blind with weeping when I hea=
rd the
truth--sure, they strove to hide it from me. Let me find thee that I may sp=
it
upon thee, thou Renegade! thou Apostate! thou Outcast!"--and he rose f=
rom
his seat and staggered like a living Wrath toward me, smiting the air with =
his
wand. And as he came with outstretched arms, awful to see, suddenly his end
found him, and with a cry he sank down upon the ground, the red blood strea=
ming
from his lips. I ran to him and lifted him; and as he died, he babbled:
"He was my son, a bright-eyed lovely boy,=
and
full of promise as the Spring; and now--and now--oh, would that he were
dead!"
Then came a pause and the breath rattled in his
throat.
"Harmachis," he gasped, "art
there?"
"Yea, father."
"Harmachis, atone!--atone! Vengeance can
still be wreaked--forgiveness may still be won. There's gold; I've hidden
it--Atoua--she can tell thee--ah, this pain! Farewell!"
And he struggled faintly in my arms and was de=
ad.
Thus, then, did I and my holy father, the Prin=
ce
Amenemhat, meet together for the last time in the flesh, and for the last t=
ime
part.
I crouched upon the floor gazing at the dead b=
ody
of my father, who had lived to curse me, the utterly accursed, while the
darkness crept and gathered round us, till at length the dead and I were al=
one
in the black silence. Oh, how tell the misery of that hour! Imagination can=
not
dream it, nor words paint it forth. Once more in my wretchedness I bethough=
t me
of death. A knife was at my girdle, with which I might cut the thread of so=
rrow
and set my spirit free. Free? ay, free to fly and face the last vengeance of
the Holy Gods! Alas! and alas! I did not dare to die. Better the earth with=
all
its woes than the quick approach of those unimagined terrors that, hovering=
in
dim Amenti, wait the advent of the fallen.
I grovelled on the ground and wept tears of ag=
ony
for the lost unchanging past--wept till I could weep no more; but no answer
came from the silence--no answer but the echoes of my grief. Not a ray of h=
ope!
My soul wandered in a darkness more utter than that which was about me--I w=
as
forsaken of the Gods and cast out of men. Terror took hold upon me crouchin=
g in
that lonely place hard by the majesty of the awful Dead. I rose to fly. How
could I fly in this gloom?--And where should I fly who had no place of refu=
ge?
Once more I crouched down, and the great fear grew on me till the cold sweat
ran from my brow and my soul was faint within me. Then, in my last despair,=
I
prayed aloud to Isis, to whom I had not dared to pray for many days.
"O Isis! Holy Mother!" I cried; "put away Thy wrath, and of Thine infinite pity, O Thou all-pitiful, hearken to the voice of the anguish of him who was Thy son and servant, but= who by sin hath fallen from the vision of Thy love. O throned Glory, who, being= in all things, hast of all things understanding and of all griefs knowledge, c= ast the weight of Thy mercy against the scale of my evil-doing, and make the balance equal. Look down upon my woe, and measure it; count up the sum of m= y repentance and take Thou note of the flood of sorrow that sweeps my soul away. O Thou Holy, whom it was given to me to look upon face to face, by that dread hour= of commune I summon Thee; I summon Thee by the mystic word. Come, then, in mercy, to s= ave me; or, in anger, to make an end of that which can no more be borne."<= o:p>
And, rising from my knees, I stretched out my = arms and dared to cry aloud the Word of Fear, to use which unworthily is death.<= o:p>
Swiftly the answer came. For in the silence I
heard the sound of the shaken sistra heralding the coming of the Glory. The=
n,
at the far end of the chamber, grew the semblance of the horned moon, gleam=
ing
faintly in the darkness, and betwixt the golden horns rested a small dark
cloud, in and out of which the fiery serpent climbed.
My knees waxed loose in the presence of the Gl=
ory,
and I sank down before it.
Then spake the small, sweet Voice within the
cloud:
"Harmachis, who wast my servant and my so=
n, I
have heard thy prayer, and the summons that thou hast dared to utter, which=
on
the lips of one with whom I have communed, hath power to draw Me from the
Uttermost. No more, Harmachis, may we be one in the bond of Love Divine, for
thou hast put Me away of thine own act. Therefore, after this long silence I
come, Harmachis, clothed in terrors, and, perchance, ready for vengeance, f=
or not
lightly can Isis be drawn from the halls of Her Divinity."
"Smite, Goddess!" I answered.
"Smite, and give me over to those who wreak Thy vengeance; for I can no
longer bear the burden of my woe!"
"And if thou canst not bear thy burden he=
re,
upon this upper earth," came the soft reply, "how then shalt thou
bear the greater burden that shall be laid upon thee there, coming defiled =
and
yet unpurified into my dim realm of Death, that is Life and Change unending?
Nay, Harmachis, I smite thee not, for not all am I wroth that thou hast dar=
ed
to utter the awful Word which calls Me down to thee. Hearken, Harmachis; I
praise not, and I reproach not, for I am the Minister of Reward and Punishm=
ent and
the Executrix of Decrees; and if I give, I give in silence; and if I smite,=
in
silence do I smite. Therefore, I will add naught to thy burden by the weigh=
t of
heavy words, though through thee it has come to pass that soon shall Isis, =
the
Mother-Mystery, be but a memory in Egypt. Thou hast sinned, and heavy shall=
be
thy punishment, as I did warn thee, both in the flesh and in my kingdom of
Amenti. But I told thee that there is a road of repentance, and surely thy =
feet
are set thereon, and therein must thou walk with a humble heart, eating of =
the
bread of bitterness, till such time as thy doom be measured."
"Have I, then, no hope, O holy?"
"That which is done, Harmachis, is done, =
nor
can its issues be altered. Khem shall no more be free till all its temples =
are
as the desert dust; strange Peoples shall, from age to age, hold her hostage
and in bonds; new Religions shall arise and wither within the shadow of her
pyramids, for to every World, Race, and Age the countenances of the Gods ar=
e changed.
This is the tree that shall spring from thy seed of sin, Harmachis, and from
the sin of those who tempted thee!"
"Alas! I am undone!" I cried.
"Yea, thou art undone; and yet shall this=
be
given to thee: thy Destroyer thou shalt destroy--for so, in the purpose of =
my
justice, it is ordained. When the sign comes to thee, arise, go to Cleopatr=
a,
and in such manner as I shall put into thy heart do Heaven's vengeance upon
her! And now for thyself one word, for thou hast put Me from thee, Harmachi=
s,
and no more shall I come face to face with thee till, cycles hence, the last
fruit of thy sin hath ceased to be upon this earth! Yet, through the vastne=
ss
of the unnumbered years, remember thou this: the Love Divine is Love Eterna=
l,
which cannot be extinguished, though it be everlastingly estranged. Repent,=
my
son; repent and do well while there is yet time, that at the dim end of ages
thou mayest once more be gathered unto Me. Still, Harmachis, though thou se=
est
Me not; still, when the very name by which thou knowest Me has become a
meaningless mystery to those who shall be after thee; still I, whose hours =
are eternal--I,
who have watched Universes wither, wane, and, beneath the breath of Time, m=
elt
into nothingness; again to gather, and, re-born, thread the maze of
space--still, I say, I shall companion thee. Wherever thou goest, in whatev=
er
form of life thou livest, there I shall be! Art thou wafted to the farthest
star, art thou buried in Amenti's lowest deep--in lives, in deaths, in slee=
ps,
in wakings, in remembrances, in oblivions, in all the fevers of the outer L=
ife,
in all the changes of the Spirit--still, if thou wilt but atone and forget =
Me
no more, I shall be with thee, waiting thine hour of redemption. For this is
the nature of Love Divine, wherewith it loves that which partakes of its
divinity and by the holy tie hath once been bound to it. Judge then, Harmac=
his:
was it well to put this from thee to win the dust of earthly woman? And, no=
w,
dare not again to utter the Word of Power till these things are done!
Harmachis, for this season, fare thee well!"
As the last note of the sweet Voice died away,=
the
fiery snake climbed into the heart of the cloud. Now the cloud rolled from =
the
horns of light, and was gathered into the blackness. The vision of the cres=
cent
moon grew dim and vanished. Then, as the Goddess passed, once more came the
faint and dreadful music of the shaken sistra, and all was still.
I hid my face in my robe, and even then, thoug=
h my
outstretched hand could touch the chill corpse of that father who had died
cursing me, I felt hope come back into my heart, knowing that I was not
altogether lost nor utterly rejected of Her whom I had forsaken, but whom I=
yet
loved. And then weariness overpowered me, and I slept.
I woke, the faint lights of dawn were creeping
from the opening in the roof. Ghastly they lay upon the shadowy sculptured
walls and ghastly upon the dead face and white beard of my father, the gath=
ered
to Osiris. I started up, remembering all things, and wondering in my heart =
what
I should do, and as I rose I heard a faint footfall creeping down the passa=
ge
of the names of the Pharaohs.
"La! La! La!" mumbled a voice that I
knew for the voice of the old wife, Atoua. "Why, 'tis dark as the Hous=
e of
the Dead! The Holy Ones who built this Temple loved not the blessed sun,
however much they worshipped him. Now, where's the curtain?"
Presently it was drawn, and Atoua entered, a s=
tick
in one hand and a basket in the other. Her face was somewhat more wrinkled,=
and
her scanty locks were somewhat whiter than aforetime, but for the rest she =
was as
she had ever been. She stood and peered around with her sharp black eyes, f=
or
as yet she could see nothing because of the shadows.
"Now where is he?" she muttered.
"Osiris--glory to His name--send that he has not wandered in the night,
and he blind! Alack! that I could not return before the dark. Alack! and al=
ack!
what times have we fallen on, when the Holy High Priest and the Governor, by
descent, of Abouthis, is left with one aged crone to minister to his infirm=
ity!
O Harmachis, my poor boy, thou hast laid trouble at our doors! Why, what's
this? Surely he sleeps not, there upon the ground?--'twill be his death!
Prince! Holy Father! Amenemhat! awake, arise!" and she hobbled towards=
the
corpse. "Why, how is it! By Him who sleeps, he's dead! untended and al=
one--dead!
dead!" and she sent her long wail of grief ringing up the sculptured
walls.
"Hush! woman, be still!" I said, gli=
ding
from the shadows.
"Oh, what art thou?" she cried, cast= ing down her basket. "Wicked man, hast thou murdered this Holy One, the on= ly Holy One in Egypt? Surely the curse will fall on thee, for though the Gods = do seem to have forsaken us now in our hour of trial, yet is their arm long, a= nd certainly they will be avenged on him who hath slain their anointed!"<= o:p>
"Look on me, Atoua," I cried.
"Look! ay, I look--thou wicked wanderer w=
ho
hast dared this cruel deed! Harmachis is a traitor and lost far away, and A=
menemhat
his holy father is murdered, and now I'm all alone without kith or kin. I g=
ave
them for him. I gave them for Harmachis, the traitor! Come, slay me also, t=
hou wicked
one!"
I took a step toward her, and she, thinking th=
at I
was about to smite her, cried out in fear:
"Nay, good Sir, spare me! Eighty and six,=
by
the Holy Ones, eighty and six, come next flood of Nile, and yet I would not
die, though Osiris is merciful to the old who served him! Come no nearer--h=
elp!
help!"
"Thou fool, be silent," I said;
"knowest thou me not?"
"Know thee? Can I know every wandering
boatman to whom Sebek grants to earn a livelihood till Typhon claims his ow=
n?
And yet--why, 'tis strange--that changed countenance!--that scar!--that
stumbling gait! It is thou, Harmachis!--'tis thou, O my boy! Art come back =
to
glad mine old eyes? I hoped thee dead! Let me kiss thee?--nay, I forget.
Harmachis is a traitor, ay, and a murderer! Here lies the holy Amenemhat,
murdered by the traitor, Harmachis! Get thee gone! I'll have none of traito=
rs
and of parricides! Get thee to thy wanton!--it is not thou whom I did
nurse."
"Peace! woman; peace! I slew not my
father--he died, alas!--he died even in my arms."
"Ay, surely, and cursing thee, Harmachis!
Thou hast given death to him who gave thee life! La! la! I am old, and I've
seen many a trouble; but this is the heaviest of them all! I never liked the
looks of mummies; but I would I were one this hour! Get thee gone, I pray
thee!"
"Old nurse, reproach me not! Have I not
enough to bear?"
"Ah! yes, yes!--I did forget! Well; and w=
hat
is thy sin? A woman was thy bane, as women have been to those before thee, =
and
shall be to those after thee. And what a woman! La! la! I saw her, a beauty
such as never was--an arrow pointed by the evil Gods for destruction! And t=
hou,
a young man bred as a priest--an ill training--a very ill training! 'Twas no
fair match. Who can wonder that she mastered thee? Come, Harmachis; let me =
kiss
thee! It is not for a woman to be hard on a man because he loved our sex to=
o much.
Why, that is but nature; and Nature knows her business, else she had made us
otherwise. But here is an evil case. Knowest thou that this Macedonian Quee=
n of
thine hath seized the temple lands and revenues, and driven away the
priests--all, save the holy Amenemhat, who lies here, and whom she left, I =
know
not why; ay, and caused the worship of the Gods to cease within these walls.
Well, he's gone!--he's gone! and indeed he is better with Osiris, for his l=
ife was
a sore burden to him. And hark thou, Harmachis: he hath not left thee
empty-handed; for, so soon as the plot failed, he gathered all his wealth, =
and
it is large, and hid it--where, I can show thee--and it is thine by right of
descent."
"Talk not to me of wealth, Atoua. Where s=
hall
I go and how shall I hide my shame?"
"Ah! true, true; here mayst thou not abid=
e,
for if they found thee, surely they would put thee to the dreadful death--a=
y,
to the death by the waxen cloth. Nay, I will hide thee, and, when the funer=
al
rites of the holy Amenemhat have been performed, we will fly hence, and cov=
er
us from the eyes of men till these sorrows are forgotten. La! la! it is a s=
ad
world, and full of trouble as the Nile mud is full of beetles. Come, Harmac=
his,
come."
These things then came to pass. For eighty day=
s I
was hidden of the old wife, Atoua, while the body of the Prince, my father,=
was
made ready for burial by those skilled in the arts of embalming. And when at
last all things were done in order, I crept from my hiding-place and made o=
fferings
to the spirit of my father, and placing lotus-flowers on his breast went th=
ence
sorrowing. And on the following day, from where I lay hid, I saw the Priest=
s of
the Temple of Osiris and of the holy shrine of Isis come forth, and in slow
procession bear his painted coffin to the sacred lake and lay it beneath the
funeral tent in the consecrated boat. I saw them celebrate the symbol of the
trial of the dead, and name him above all men just, and then bear him thenc=
e to
lay him by his wife, my mother, in the deep tomb that he had hewn in the ro=
ck
near to the resting-place of the Holy Osiris, where, notwithstanding my sin=
s,
I, too, hope to sleep ere long. And when all these things were done and the=
deep
tomb sealed, the wealth of my father having been removed from the hidden
treasury and placed in safety, I fled, disguised, with the old wife, Atoua,=
up
the Nile till we came to Tápé,[*] and here in this great city I lay a while,
till a place could be found where I should hide myself.
[=
*]
Thebes.--Editor.
And such a place I found. For to the north of =
the
great city are brown and rugged hills, and desert valley blasted of the sun,
and in this place of desolation the Divine Pharaohs, my forefathers, hollow=
ed
out their tombs in the solid rock, the most part of which are lost to this =
day,
so cunningly have they been hidden. But some are open, for the accursed
Persians and other thieves broke into them in search of treasure. And one
night--for by night only did I leave my hiding-place--just as the dawn was
breaking on the mountain tops, I wandered alone in this sad valley of death,
like to which there is no other, and presently came to the mouth of a tomb
hidden amid great rocks, which afterwards I knew for the place of the buryi=
ng
of the Divine Rameses, the third of that name, now long gathered to Osiris.=
And
by the faint light of the dawn creeping through the entrance I saw that it =
was
spacious and that within were chambers.
On the following night, therefore, I returned,
bearing lights, with Atoua, my nurse, who ever ministered faithfully to me =
as
when I was little and without discretion. And we searched the mighty tomb a=
nd
came to the great Hall of the Sarcophagus of granite, in which the Divine R=
ameses
sleeps, and saw the mystic paintings on the walls: the symbol of the Snake
unending, the symbol of Ra resting upon the Scarabæus, the symbol of Ra res=
ting
upon Nout, the symbol of the Headless men, and many others, whereof, being
initiated, well I read the mysteries. And opening from the long descending
passage I found chambers in which were paintings beautiful to behold, and of
all manner of things. For beneath each chamber is entombed the master of the
craft of which the paintings tell, he who was the chief of the servants of =
that
craft in the house of this Divine Rameses. And on the walls of the last cha=
mber--on
the left-hand side, looking toward the Hall of the Sarcophagus--are paintin=
gs
exceedingly beautiful, and two blind harpers playing upon their bent harps
before the God Mou; and beneath the flooring these harpers, who harp no mor=
e,
are soft at sleep. Here, then, in this gloomy place, even in the tomb of the
Harpers and the company of the dead, I took up my abode; and here for eight
long years I worked out my penance and made atonement for my sin. But Atoua,
because she loved to be near the light, abode in the chamber of the Boats--=
that
is, the first chamber on the right-hand side of the gallery looking toward =
the
Hall of the Sarcophagus.
And this was the manner of my life. On every
second day the old wife, Atoua, went forth and brought water from the city =
and
such food as is necessary to keep the life from failing, and also tapers ma=
de
from fat. And one hour at the time of sunrise and one hour at the time of
sunset I did go forth also to wander in the valley for my health's sake and=
to save
my sight from failing in the great darkness of the tomb. But the other hour=
s of
the day and night, except when I climbed the mountain to watch the course of
the stars, I spent in prayer and meditation and sleep, till the cloud of sin
lifted from my heart and once more I drew near to the Gods, though with Isi=
s,
my heavenly Mother, I might speak no more. And I grew exceedingly wise also,
pondering on all those mysteries to which I held the key. For abstinence and
prayer and sorrowful solitude wore away the grossness of my flesh, and with=
the
eyes of the Spirit I learned to look deep into the heart of things till the=
joy
of Wisdom fell like dew upon my soul.
Soon the rumour was wafted about the city that=
a
certain holy man named Olympus abode in solitude in the tombs of the awful
Valley of the Dead; and hither came people bearing sick that I might cure t=
hem.
And I gave my mind to the study of simples, in which Atoua instructed me; a=
nd
by lore and the weight of my thought I gained great skill in medicine, and =
healed
many sick. And thus ever, as time went on, my fame was noised abroad; for it
was said that I was also a magician and that in the tombs I had commune with
the Spirits of the Dead. And this, indeed, I did--though it is not lawful f=
or
me to speak of these matters. Thus, then, it came to pass that no more need
Atoua go forth to seek food and water, for the people brought it--more than=
was
needful, for I would receive no fee. Now at first, fearing lest some in the
hermit Olympus might know the lost Harmachis, I would only meet those who c=
ame
in the darkness of the tomb. But afterwards, when I learned how it was held=
through
all the land that Harmachis was certainly no more, I came forth and sat in =
the
mouth of the tomb, and ministered to the sick, and at times calculated
nativities for the great. And thus my fame grew continually, till at length
folk journeyed even from Memphis and Alexandria to visit me; and from them I
learned how Antony had left Cleopatra for a while, and, Fulvia being dead, =
had
married Octavia, the sister of Cæsar. Many other things I learned also.
And in the second year I did this: I despatched
the old wife, Atoua, disguised as a seller of simples, to Alexandria, biddi=
ng
her seek out Charmion, and, if yet she found her faithful, reveal to her the
secret of my way of life. So she went, and in the fifth month from her sail=
ing returned,
bearing Charmion's greetings and a token. And she told me that she had found
means to see Charmion, and, in talk, had let fall the name of Harmachis,
speaking of me as one dead; at which Charmion, unable to control her grief,
wept aloud. Then, reading her heart--for the old wife was very clever, and =
held
the key of knowledge--she told her that Harmachis yet lived, and sent her
greetings. Thereon Charmion wept yet more with joy, and kissed the old wife,
and made her gifts, bidding her tell me that she had kept her vow, and wait=
ed
for my coming and the hour of vengeance. So, having learned many secrets, A=
toua
returned again to Tápé.
And in the following year messengers came to me
from Cleopatra, bearing a sealed roll and great gifts. I opened the roll, a=
nd
read this in it:
"Cleopatra to Olympus, the learned Egypti=
an
who dwells in the Valley of Death by Tápé--
"The fame of thy renown, O learned Olympu=
s,
hath reached our ears. Tell thou, then, this to us, and if thou tellest ari=
ght
greater honour and wealth shalt thou have than any in Egypt: How shall we w=
in
back the love of noble Antony, who is bewitched of cunning Octavia, and tar=
ries
long from us?"
Now, in this I saw the hand of Charmion, who h=
ad
made my renown known to Cleopatra.
All that night I took counsel with my wisdom, =
and
on the morrow wrote my answer as it was put into my heart to the destructio=
n of
Cleopatra and Antony. And thus I wrote:
"Olympus the Egyptian to Cleopatra the
Queen--
"Go forth into Syria with one who shall be
sent to lead thee; thus shalt thou win Antony to thy arms again, and with h=
im
gifts more great than thou canst dream."
And with this letter I dismissed the messenger=
s,
bidding them share the presents sent by Cleopatra among their company.
So they went wondering.
But Cleopatra, seizing on the advice to which =
her
passion prompted her, departed straightway with Fonteius Capito into Syria,=
and
there the thing came about as I had foretold, for Antony was subdued of her=
and
gave her the greater part of Cilicia, the ocean shore of Arabia Nabathæa, t=
he
balm-bearing provinces of Judæa, the province of Phoenicia, the province of
Coele-Syria, the rich isle of Cyprus, and all the library of Pergamus. And =
to
the twin children that, with the son Ptolemy, Cleopatra had borne to Antony=
, he
impiously gave the names of "Kings, the Children of Kings"--of
Alexander Helios, as the Greeks name the sun, and of Cleopatra Selene, the
moon, the long-winged.
These things then came to pass.
Now on her return to Alexandria Cleopatra sent=
me
great gifts, of which I would have none, and prayed me, the learned Olympus=
, to
come to her at Alexandria; but it was not yet time, and I would not. But
thereafter she and Antony sent many times to me for counsel, and I ever
counselled them to their ruin, nor did my prophecies fail.
Thus the long years rolled away, and I, the he=
rmit
Olympus, the dweller in a tomb, the eater of bread and the drinker of water=
, by
strength of the wisdom that was given me of the avenging Power, became once
more great in Khem. For I grew ever wiser as I trampled the desires of the =
flesh
beneath my feet and turned my eyes to heaven.
At length eight full years were accomplished. =
The
war with the Parthians had come and gone, and Artavasdes, King of Armenia, =
had
been led in triumph through the streets of Alexandria. Cleopatra had visited
Samos and Athens; and, by her counselling, the noble Octavia had been drive=
n, like
some discarded concubine, from the house of Antony at Rome. And now, at the
last, the measure of the folly of Antony was full even to the brim. For this
Master of the World had no longer the good gift of reason; he was lost in
Cleopatra as I had been lost. Therefore, in the event, Octavianus declared =
war
against him.
And as I slept upon a certain day in the chamb=
er
of the Harpers, in the tomb of Pharaoh that is by Tápé, there came to me a
vision of my father, the aged Amenemhat, and he stood over me, leaning on h=
is
staff, and spoke, saying:
"Look forth, my son."
Then I looked forth, and with the eyes of my
spirit saw the sea, and two great fleets grappling in war hard by a rocky
coast. And the emblems were those of Octavian, and of the other those of
Cleopatra and Antony. The ships of Antony and Cleopatra bore down upon the
ships of Cæsar, and drove them on, for victory inclined to Antony.
I looked again. There sat Cleopatra in a
gold-decked galley watching the fight with eager eyes. Then I cast my Spiri=
t on
her so that she seemed to hear the voice of dead Harmachis crying in her ea=
r.
"Fly, Cleopatra," it seemed to say,
"fly or perish!"
She looked up wildly, and again she heard my
Spirit's cry. Now a mighty fear took hold of her. She called aloud to the
sailors to hoist the sails and make signal to her fleet to put about. This =
they
did wondering but little loath, and fled in haste from the battle.
Then a great roar went up from friend and foe.=
"Cleopatra is fled! Cleopatra is fled!&qu=
ot;
And I saw wreck and red ruin fall upon the fleet of Antony and awoke from my
trance.
The days passed, and again a vision of my fath=
er
came to me and spoke, saying:
"Arise, my son!--the hour of vengeance is=
at
hand! Thy plots have not failed; thy prayers have been heard. By the biddin=
g of
the Gods, as she sat in her galley at the fight of Actium, the heart of
Cleopatra was filled with fears, so that, deeming she heard thy voice biddi=
ng
her fly or perish, she fled with all her fleet. Now the strength of Actium =
is broken
on the sea. Go forth, and as it shall be put into thy mind, so do thou.&quo=
t;
In the morning I awoke, wondering, and went to=
the
mouth of the tomb, and there, coming up the valley, I saw the messengers of
Cleopatra, and with them a Roman guard.
"What will ye with me now?" I asked,
sternly.
"This is the message of the Queen and of
great Antony," answered the Captain, bowing low before me, for I was m=
uch
feared by all men. "The Queen commands thy presence at Alexandria. Many
times has she sent, and thou wouldst not come; now she bids thee to come, a=
nd that
swiftly, for she has need of thy counsel."
"And if I say Nay, soldier, what then?&qu=
ot;
"These are my orders, most holy Olympus; =
that
I bring thee by force."
I laughed aloud. "By force, thou fool! Use
not such talk to me, lest I smite thee where thou art. Know, then, that I c=
an
kill as well as cure!"
"Pardon, I beseech thee!" he answere=
d,
shrinking. "I say but those things that I am bid."
"Well, I know it, Captain. Fear not; I
come."
So on that very day I departed, together with =
the
aged Atoua. Ay, I went as secretly as I had come; and the tomb of the Divine
Rameses knew me no more. And with me I took all the treasures of my father,
Amenemhat, for I was not minded to go to Alexandria empty-handed and as a
suppliant, but rather as a man of much wealth and condition. Now, as I went=
, I learned
that Antony, following Cleopatra, had, indeed, fled from Actium, and knew t=
hat
the end drew nigh. For this and many other things had I foreseen in the
darkness of the tomb of Tápé, and planned to bring about.
Thus, then, I came to Alexandria, and entered =
into
a house which had been made ready for me at the palace gates.
And that very night Charmion came to me--Charm=
ion
whom I had not seen for nine long years.
Clad in my plain black robe, I sat in the
guest-chamber of the house that had been made ready for me. I sat in a carv=
en
lion-footed chair, and looked upon the swinging lamps of scented oil, the
pictured tapestries, the rich Syrian rugs--and, amidst all this luxury,
bethought me of that tomb of the Harpers which is at Tápé, and of the nine =
long
years of dark loneliness and preparation. I sat; and crouched upon a rug ne=
ar
to the door, lay the aged Atoua. Her hair was white as snow, and shrivelled
with age was the wrinkled countenance of the woman who, when all deserted m=
e,
had yet clung to me, in her great love forgetting my great sins. Nine years!
nine long years! and now, once again, I set my foot in Alexandria! Once aga=
in
in the appointed circle of things I came forth from the solitude of prepara=
tion
to be a fate to Cleopatra; and this second time I came not forth to fail.
And yet how changed the circumstance! I was ou=
t of
the story: my part now was but the part of the sword in the hands of Justic=
e; I
might no more hope to make Egypt free and great and sit upon my lawful thro=
ne. Khem
was lost, and lost was I, Harmachis. In the rush and turmoil of events, the
great plot of which I had been the pivot was covered up and forgotten; scar=
ce a
memory of it remained. The curtain of dark night was closing in upon the
history of my ancient Race; its very Gods were tottering to their fall; I c=
ould
already, in the spirit, hear the shriek of the Roman eagles as they flapped
their wings above the furthest banks of Sihor.
Presently I roused myself and bade Atoua go se=
ek a
mirror and bring it to me, that I might look therein.
And I saw this: a face shrunken and pallid, on
which no smile came; great eyes grown wan with gazing into darkness looking=
out
beneath the shaven head, emptily, as the hollow eye-pits of a skull; a wize=
ned halting
form wasted by abstinence, sorrow, and prayer; a long wild beard of iron gr=
ey;
thin blue-veined hands that ever trembled like a leaf; bowed shoulders and
lessened limbs. Time and grief had done their work indeed; scarce could I t=
hink
myself the same as when, the royal Harmachis--in all the splendour of my
strength and youthful beauty--I first had looked upon the woman's loveliness
that did destroy me. And yet within me burned the same fire as of yore; yet=
I
was not changed, for time and grief have no power to alter the immortal spi=
rit
of man. Seasons may come and go; Hope, like a bird, may fly away; Passion m=
ay break
its wings against the iron bars of Fate; Illusions may crumble as the cloudy
towers of sunset flame; Faith, as running water, may slip from beneath our
feet; Solitude may stretch itself around us like the measureless desert san=
d;
Old Age may creep as the gathering night over our bowed heads grown hoary in
their shame--yea, bound to Fortune's wheel, we may taste of every turn of
chance--now rule as Kings, now serve as Slaves; now love, now hate; now
prosper, and now perish. But still, through all, we are the same; for this =
is
the marvel of Identity.
And as I sat and thought these things in
bitterness of heart, there came a knocking at the door.
"Open, Atoua!" I said.
She rose and did my bidding; and a woman enter=
ed,
clad in Grecian robes. It was Charmion, still beautiful as of old, but sad
faced now and very sweet to see, with a patient fire slumbering in her down=
cast
eyes.
She entered unattended; and, speaking no word,=
the
old wife pointed to where I sat, and went.
"Old man," she said, addressing me,
"lead me to the learned Olympus. I come upon the Queen's business.&quo=
t;
I rose, and, lifting my head, looked upon her.=
She gazed, and gave a little cry.
"Surely," she whispered, glancing ro=
und,
"surely thou art not that----" And she paused.
"That Harmachis whom once thy foolish hea=
rt
did love, O Charmion? Yes, I am he and what thou seest, most fair lady. Yet=
is
Harmachis dead whom thou didst love; but Olympus, the skilled Egyptian, wai=
ts
upon thy words!"
"Cease!" she said, "and of the =
past
but one word, and then--why, let it lie. Not well, with all thy wisdom, can=
st
thou know a true woman's heart, if thou dost believe, Harmachis, that it can
change with the changes of the outer form, for then assuredly could no love
follow its beloved to that last place of change--the Grave. Know thou, lear=
ned Physician,
I am of that sort who, loving once, love always, and being not beloved agai=
n,
go virgin to the death."
She ceased, and having naught to say, I bowed =
my
head in answer. Yet though I said nothing and though this woman's passionate
folly had been the cause of all our ruin, to speak truth, in secret I was
thankful to her who, wooed of all and living in this shameless Court, had s=
till
through the long years poured out her unreturned love upon an outcast, and =
who,
when that poor broken slave of Fortune came back in such unlovely guise, he=
ld
him yet dear at heart. For what man is there who does not prize that gift m=
ost
rare and beautiful, that one perfect thing which no gold can buy--a woman's
unfeigned love?
"I thank thee that thou dost not
answer," she said; "for the bitter words which thou didst pour up=
on
me in those days that long are dead, and far away in Tarsus, have not lost
their poisonous sting, and in my heart is no more place for the arrows of t=
hy
scorn, new venomed through thy solitary years. So let it be. Behold! I put =
it
from me, that wild passion of my soul," and she looked up and stretched
out her hands as though to press some unseen presence back, "I put it =
from
me--though forget it I may not! There, 'tis done, Harmachis; no more shall =
my
love trouble thee. Enough for me that once more my eyes behold thee, before=
sleep
seals thee from their sight. Dost remember how, when I would have died by t=
hy
dear hand, thou wouldst not slay, but didst bid me live to pluck the bitter
fruit of crime, and be accursed by visions of the evil I had wrought and
memories of thee whom I have ruined?"
"Ay, Charmion, I remember well."
"Surely the cup of punishment has been fi=
lled.
Oh! couldst thou see into the record of my heart, and read in it the suffer=
ing
that I have borne--borne with a smiling face--thy justice would be satisfie=
d indeed!"
"And yet, if report be true, Charmion, th=
ou
art the first of all the Court, and therein the most powerful and beloved. =
Does
not Octavianus give it out that he makes war, not on Antony, nor even on his
mistress, Cleopatra, but on Charmion and Iras?"
"Yes, Harmachis, and think that it has be=
en
to me thus, because of my oath to thee, to be forced to eat the bread and do
the tasks of one whom so bitterly I hate!--one who robbed me of thee, and w=
ho,
through the workings of my jealousy, brought me to be that which I am, brou=
ght thee
to shame, and all Egypt to its ruin! Can jewels and riches and the flattery=
of
princes and nobles bring happiness to such a one as I, who am more wretched
than the meanest scullion wench? Oh, I have often wept till I was blind; and
then, when the hour came, I must arise and tire me, and, with a smile, go do
the bidding of the Queen and that heavy Antony. May the Gods grant me to see
them dead--ay, the twain of them!--then myself I shall be content to die! T=
hy
lot has been hard, Harmachis; but at least thou have been free, and many is=
the
time that I have envied thee the quiet of thy haunted cave."
"I do perceive, O Charmion, that thou art
mindful of thy oaths; and it is well, for the hour of vengeance is at
hand."
"I am mindful, and in all things I have
worked for thee in secret--for thee, and for the utter ruin of Cleopatra and
the Roman. I have fanned his passion and her jealousy, I have egged her on =
to
wickedness and him to folly, and of all have I caused report to be brought =
to
Cæsar. Listen! thus stands the matter. Thou knowest how went the fight at A=
ctium.
Thither went Cleopatra with her fleet, sorely against the will of Antony. B=
ut,
as thou sentest me word, I entreated him for the Queen, vowing to him, with
tears, that, did he leave her, she would die of grief; and he, poor slave,
believed me. And so she went, and in the thick of the fight, for what cause=
I
know not, though perchance thou knowest, Harmachis, she made signal to her
squadron, and, putting about fled from the battle, sailing for Peloponnesus.
And now, mark the end! When Antony saw that she was gone, he, in his madnes=
s,
took a galley, and deserting all, followed hard after her, leaving his flee=
t to
be shattered and sunk, and his great army in Greece, of twenty legions and
twelve thousand horse, without a leader. And all this no man would believe,
that Antony, the smitten of the Gods, had fallen so deep in shame. Therefore
for a while the army tarried, and but now to-night comes news brought by
Canidius, the General, that, worn with doubt and being at length sure that
Antony had deserted them, the whole of his great force has yielded to
Cæsar."
"And where, then, is Antony?"
"He has built him a habitation on a little
isle in the Great Harbour and named it Timonium; because, forsooth, like Ti=
mon,
he cries out at the ingratitude of mankind that has forsaken him. And there=
he
lies smitten by a fever of the mind, and thither thou must go at dawn, so w=
ills
the Queen, to cure him of his ills and draw him to her arms; for he will not
see her, nor knows he yet the full measure of his woe. But first my bidding=
is to
lead thee instantly to Cleopatra, who would ask thy counsel."
"I come," I answered, rising. "=
Lead
thou on."
And so we passed the palace gates and along the
Alabaster Hall, and presently once again I stood before the door of Cleopat=
ra's
chamber, and once again Charmion left me to warn her of my coming.
Presently she came back and beckoned to me. "Make strong thy heart," she whispered, "and see that thou d= ost not betray thyself, for still are the eyes of Cleopatra keen. Enter!"<= o:p>
"Keen, indeed, must they be to find Harma=
chis
in the learned Olympus! Had I not willed it, thyself thou hadst not known m=
e,
Charmion," I made answer.
Then I entered that remembered place and liste=
ned
once more to the plash of the fountain, the song of the nightingale, and th=
e murmur
of the summer sea. With bowed head and halting gait I came, till at length =
I stood
before the couch of Cleopatra--that same golden couch on which she had sat =
the
night she overcame me. Then I gathered my strength, and looked up. There be=
fore
me was Cleopatra, glorious as of old, but, oh! how changed since that night
when I saw Antony clasp her in his arms at Tarsus! Her beauty still clothed=
her
like a garment; the eyes were yet deep and unfathomable as the blue sea, the
face still splendid in its great loveliness. And yet all was changed. Time,
that could not touch her charms, had stamped upon her presence such a look =
of
weary grief as may not be written. Passion, beating ever in that fierce hea=
rt
of hers, had written his record on her brow, and in her eyes shone the sad
lights of sorrow.
I bowed low before this most royal woman, who =
once
had been my love and destruction, and yet knew me not.
She looked up wearily, and spoke in her slow, =
well
remembered voice:
"So thou art come at length, Physician. H=
ow
callest thou thyself?--Olympus? 'Tis a name of promise, for surely now that=
the
Gods of Egypt have deserted us, we do need aid from Olympus. Well, thou has=
t a
learned air, for learning does not with beauty. Strange, too, there is that
about thee which recalls what I know not. Say, Olympus, have we met before?=
"
"Never, O Queen, have my eyes fallen on t=
hee
in the body," I answered in a feigned voice. "Never till this hou=
r,
when I come forth from my solitude to do thy bidding and cure thee of thy
ills!"
"Strange! and even in the voice--Pshaw! '=
tis
some memory that I cannot catch. In the body, thou sayest? then, perchance,=
I
knew thee in a dream?"
"Ay, O Queen; we have met in dreams."=
;
"Thou art a strange man, who talkest thus,
but, if what I hear be true, one well learned; and, indeed, I mind me of thy
counsel when thou didst bid me join my Lord Antony in Syria, and how things
befell according to thy word. Skilled must thou be in the casting of nativi=
ties
and in the law of auguries, of which these Alexandrian fools have little
knowledge. Once I knew such another man, one Harmachis," and she sighe=
d:
"but he is long dead--as I would I were also!--and at times I sorrow f=
or
him."
She paused, while I sank my head upon my breast
and stood silent.
"Interpret me this, Olympus. In the battl=
e at
that accursed Actium, just as the fight raged thickest and Victory began to
smile upon us, a great terror seized my heart, and thick darkness seemed to
fall before my eyes, while in my ears a voice, ay, the voice of that long d=
ead Harmachis,
cried 'Fly! fly, or perish!' and I fled. But from my heart the terror leapt=
to
the heart of Antony, and he followed after me, and thus was the battle lost.
Say, then, what God brought this evil thing about?"
"Nay, O Queen," I answered, "it=
was
no God--for wherein hast thou angered the Gods of Egypt? Hast thou robbed t=
he
temples of their Faith? Hast thou betrayed the trust of Egypt? Having done =
none
of these things, how, then, can the Gods of Egypt be wroth with thee? Fear =
not,
it was nothing but some natural vapour of the mind that overcame thy gentle=
soul,
made sick with the sight and sound of slaughter; and as for the noble Anton=
y,
where thou didst go needs must that he should follow."
And as I spoke, Cleopatra turned white and
trembled, glancing at me the while to find my meaning. But I well knew that=
the
thing was of the avenging Gods, working through me, their instrument.
"Learned Olympus," she said, not
answering my words; "my Lord Antony is sick and crazed with grief. Like
some poor hunted slave he hides himself in yonder sea-girt Tower and shuns
mankind--yes, he shuns even me, who, for his sake, endure so many woes. Now,
this is my bidding to thee. To-morrow, at the coming of the light, do thou,=
led
by Charmion, my waiting-lady, take boat and row thee to the Tower and there
crave entry, saying that ye bring tidings from the army. Then he will cause=
you
to be let in, and thou, Charmion, must break this heavy news that Canidius =
bears;
for Canidius himself I dare not send. And when his grief is past, do thou,
Olympus, soothe his fevered frame with thy draughts of value, and his soul =
with
honeyed words, and draw him back to me, and all will yet be well. Do thou t=
his,
and thou shalt have gifts more than thou canst count, for I am yet a Queen =
and
yet can pay back those who serve my will."
"Fear not, O Queen," I answered,
"this thing shall be done, and I ask no reward, who have come hither t=
o do
thy bidding to the end."
So I bowed and went and, summoning Atoua, made
ready a certain potion.
Ere it was yet dawn Charmion came again, and we
walked to the private harbour of the palace. There, taking boat, we rowed to
the island mount on which stands the Timonium, a vaulted tower, strong, sma=
ll,
and round. And, having landed, we twain came to the door and knocked, till =
at length
a grating was thrown open in the door, and an aged eunuch, looking forth,
roughly asked our business.
"Our business is with the Lord Antony,&qu=
ot;
said Charmion.
"Then it is no business, for Antony, my
master, sees neither man nor woman."
"Yet will he see us, for we bring tidings=
. Go
tell him that the Lady Charmion brings tidings from the army."
The man went, and presently returned.
"The Lord Antony would know if the tiding=
s be
good or ill, for, if ill, then will he none of it, for with evil tidings he=
has
been overfed of late."
"Why--why, it is both good and ill. Open,
slave, I will make answer to thy master!" and she slipped a purse of g=
old
through the bars.
"Well, well," he grumbled, as he took
the purse, "the times are hard, and likely to be harder; for when the
lion's down who will feed the jackal? Give thy news thyself, and if it do b=
ut
draw the noble Antony out of this hall of Groans, I care not what it be. Now
the palace door is open, and there's the road to the banqueting-chamber.&qu=
ot;
We passed on, to find ourselves in a narrow
passage, and, leaving the eunuch to bar the door, advanced till we came to a
curtain. Through this entrance we went, and found ourselves in a vaulted
chamber, ill-lighted from the roof. On the further side of this rude chamber
was a bed of rugs, and on them crouched the figure of a man, his face hidde=
n in
the folds of his toga.
"Most noble Antony," said Charmion
drawing near, "unwrap thy face and hearken to me, for I bring thee
tidings."
Then he lifted up his head. His face was marre=
d by
sorrow; his tangled hair, grizzled with years, hung about his hollow eyes, =
and
white on his chin was the stubble of an unshaven beard. His robe was squali=
d,
and his aspect more wretched than that of the poorest beggar at the temple =
gates.
To this, then, had the love of Cleopatra brought the glorious and renowned
Antony, aforetime Master of half the World!
"What will ye with me, Lady," he ask=
ed,
"who would perish here alone? And who is this man who comes to gaze on
fallen and forsaken Antony?"
"This is Olympus, noble Antony, that wise
physician, the skilled in auguries, of whom thou hast heard much, and whom
Cleopatra, ever mindful of thy welfare, though but little thou dost think of
hers, has sent to minister to thee."
"And, can thy physician minister to a gri=
ef
such as my grief? Can his drugs give me back my galleys, my honour, and my
peace? Nay! Away with thy physician! What are thy tidings?--quick!--out with
it! Hath Canidius, perchance, conquered Cæsar? Tell me but that, and thou s=
halt
have a province for thy guerdon--ay! and if Octavianus be dead, twenty thou=
sand
sestertia to fill its treasury. Speak--nay--speak not! I fear the opening of
thy lips as never I feared an earthly thing. Surely the wheel of fortune has
gone round and Canidius has conquered? Is it not so? Nay--out with it! I ca=
n no
more!"
"O noble Antony," she said, "st=
eel
thy heart to hear that which I needs must tell thee! Canidius is in Alexand=
ria.
He has fled far and fast, and this is his report. For seven whole days did =
the
legions wait the coming of Antony, to lead them to victory, as aforetime,
putting aside the offers of the envoys of Cæsar. But Antony came not. And t=
hen
it was rumoured that Antony had fled to Tænarus, drawn thither by Cleopatra=
. The
man who first brought that tale to the camp the legionaries cried shame on-=
-ay,
and beat him to the death! But ever it grew, until at length there was no m=
ore
room to doubt; and then, O Antony, thy officers slipped one by one away to
Cæsar, and where the officers go there the men follow. Nor is this all the
story; for thy allies--Bocchus of Africa, Tarcondimotus of Cilicia, Mithrid=
ates
of Commagene, Adallas of Thrace, Philadelphus of Paphlagonia, Archelaus of
Cappadocia, Herod of Judæa, Amyntas of Galatia, Polemon of Pontus, and Malc=
hus
of Arabia--all, all have fled or bid their generals fly back to whence they=
came;
and already their ambassador's crave cold Cæsar's clemency."
"Hast done thy croakings, thou raven in a
peacock's dress, or is there more to come?" asked the smitten man, lif=
ting
his white and trembling face from the shelter of his hands. "Tell me m=
ore;
say that Egypt's dead in all her beauty; say that Octavianus lowers at the
Canopic gate; and that, headed by dead Cicero, all the ghosts of Hell do
audibly shriek out the fall of Antony! Yea, gather up every woe that can
o'erwhelm those who once were great, and loose them on the hoary head of hi=
m whom--in
thy gentleness--thou art still pleased to name 'the noble Antony'!"
"Nay, my Lord, I have done."
"Ay, and so have I done--done, quite done=
! It
is altogether finished, and thus I seal the end," and snatching a sword
from the couch, he would, indeed, have slain himself had I not sprung forwa=
rd
and grasped his hand. For it was not my purpose that he should die as yet;
since had he died at that hour Cleopatra had made her peace with Cæsar, who
rather wished the death of Antony than the ruin of Egypt.
"Art mad, Antony? Art, indeed, a
coward?" cried Charmion, "that thou wouldst thus escape thy woes,=
and
leave thy partner to face the sorrow out alone?"
"Why not, woman? Why not? She would not be
long alone. There's Cæsar to keep her company. Octavianus loves a fair woma=
n in
his cold way, and still is Cleopatra fair. Come now, thou Olympus! thou hast
held my hand from dealing death upon myself, advise me of thy wisdom. Shall=
I,
then, submit myself to Cæsar, and I, Triumvir, twice Consul, and aforetime =
absolute
Monarch of all the East, endure to follow in his triumph along those Roman =
ways
where I myself have passed in triumph?"
"Nay, Sire," I answered. "If th=
ou
dost yield, then art thou doomed. All last night I questioned of the Fates
concerning thee, and I saw this: when thy star draws near to Cæsar's it pal=
es
and is swallowed up; but when it passes from his radiance, then bright and =
big
it shines, equal in glory to his own. All is not lost, and while some part
remains, everything may be regained. Egypt can yet be held, armies can stil=
l be
raised. Cæsar has withdrawn himself; he is not yet at the gates of Alexandr=
ia,
and perchance may be appeased. Thy mind in its fever has fired thy body; th=
ou
art sick and canst not judge aright. See, here, I have a potion that shall =
make
thee whole, for I am well skilled in the art of medicine," and I held =
out
the phial.
"A potion, thou sayest man!" he crie=
d.
"More like it is a poison, and thou a murderer, sent by false Egypt, w=
ho
would fain be rid of me now that I may no more be of service to her. The he=
ad
of Antony is the peace offering she would send to Cæsar--she for whom I have
lost all! Give me thy draught. By Bacchus! I will drink it, though it be the
very elixir of Death!"
"Nay, noble Antony; it is no poison, and =
I am
no murderer. See, I will taste it, if thou wilt," and I held forth the
subtle drink that has the power to fire the veins of men.
"Give it me, Physician. Desperate men are=
brave
men. There!----Why, what is this? Yours is a magic draught! My sorrows seem=
to
roll away like thunder-clouds before the southern gale, and the spring of H=
ope
blooms fresh upon the desert of my heart. Once more I am Antony, and once a=
gain
I see my legions' spears asparkle in the sun, and hear the thunderous shout=
of
welcome as Antony--beloved Antony--rides in pomp of war along his deep-form=
ed
lines! There's hope! there's hope! I may yet see the cold brows of Cæsar--t=
hat
Cæsar who never errs except from policy--robbed of their victor bays and
crowned with shameful dust!"
"Ay," cried Charmion, "there st=
ill
is hope, if thou wilt but play the man! O my Lord! come back with us; come =
back
to the loving arms of Cleopatra! All night she lies upon her golden bed, and
fills the hollow darkness with her groans for 'Antony!' who, enamoured now =
of
Grief, forgets his duty and his love!"
"I come! I come! Shame upon me, that I da=
red
to doubt her! Slave, bring water, and a purple robe: not thus can I be seen=
of
Cleopatra. Even now I come."
In this fashion, then, did we draw Antony back=
to
Cleopatra, that the ruin of the twain might be made sure.
We led him up the Alabaster Hall and into
Cleopatra's chamber, where she lay, her cloudy hair about her face and brea=
st,
and tears flowing from her deep eyes.
"O Egypt!" he cried, "behold me=
at
thy feet!"
She sprang from the couch. "And art thou
here, my love?" she murmured; "then once again are all things wel=
l.
Come near, and in these arms forget thy sorrows and turn my grief to joy. O=
h,
Antony, while love is left to us, still have we all!"
And she fell upon his breast and kissed him
wildly.
That same day, Charmion came to me and bade me
prepare a poison of the most deadly power. And this at first I would not do,
fearing that Cleopatra would therewith make an end of Antony before his tim=
e.
But Charmion showed me that this was not so, and told me also for what purp=
ose
was the poison. Therefore I summoned Atoua, the skilled in simples, and all
that afternoon we laboured at the deadly work. And when it was done, Charmi=
on
came once more, bearing with her a chaplet of fresh roses, that she bade me
steep in the poison.
This then I did.
That night at the great feast of Cleopatra, I =
sat
near Antony, who was at her side, and wore the poisoned wreath. Now as the
feast went on, the wine flowed fast, till Antony and the Queen grew merry. =
And
she told him of her plans, and of how even now her galleys were being drawn=
by
the canal that leads from Bubastis on the Pelusiac branch of the Nile, to C=
lysma
at the head of the Bay of Heroopolis. For it was her design, should Cæsar p=
rove
stubborn, to fly with Antony and her treasure down the Arabian Gulf, where
Cæsar had no fleet, and seek some new home in India, whither her foes might=
not
follow. But, indeed, this plan came to nothing, for the Arabs of Petra burnt
the galleys, incited thereto by a message sent by the Jews of Alexandria, w=
ho
hated Cleopatra and were hated of her. For I caused the Jews to be warned of
what was being done.
Now, when she had made an end of telling him, =
the
Queen called on him to drink a cup with her, to the success of this new sch=
eme,
bidding him, as she did so, steep his wreath of roses in the wine, and make=
the
draught more sweet. This, then, he did, and it being done, she pledged him.=
But
when he was about to pledge her back, she caught his hand, crying "Hol=
d!"
whereat he paused, wondering.
Now, among the servants of Cleopatra was one
Eudosius, a steward; and this Eudosius, seeing that the fortunes of Cleopat=
ra
were at an end, had laid a plan to fly that very night to Cæsar, as many of=
his
betters had done, taking with him all the treasure in the palace that he co=
uld steal.
But this design being discovered to Cleopatra, she determined to be avenged
upon Eudosius.
"Eudosius," she cried, for the man s=
tood
near; "come hither, thou faithful servant! Seest thou this man, most n=
oble
Antony; through all our troubles he has clung to us and been of comfort to =
us.
Now, therefore, he shall be rewarded according to his deserts and the measu=
re of
his faithfulness, and that from thine own hand. Give him thy golden cup of
wine, and let him drink a pledge to our success; the cup shall be his
guerdon."
And still wondering, Antony gave it to the man,
who, stricken in his guilty mind, took it, and stood trembling. But he drank
not.
"Drink! thou slave; drink!" cried
Cleopatra, half rising from her seat and flashing a fierce look on his white
face. "By Serapis! so surely as I yet shall sit in the Capitol at Rome=
, if
thou dost thus flout the Lord Antony, I'll have thee scourged to the bones,=
and
the red wine poured upon thy open wounds to heal them! Ah! at length thou
drinkest! Why, what is it, good Eudosius? art sick? Surely, then, this wine
must be as the water of jealousy of those Jews, that has power to slay the
false and strengthen the honest only. Go, some of you, search this man's ro=
om; methinks
he is a traitor!"
Meanwhile the man stood, his hands to his head.
Presently he began to tremble, and then fell, clutching at his bosom, as th=
ough
to tear out the fire in his heart. He staggered, with livid, twisted face a=
nd foaming
lips, to where Cleopatra lay watching him with a slow and cruel smile.
"Ah, traitor! thou hast it now!" she
said. "Prithee, is death sweet?"
"Thou wanton!" yelled the dying man,
"thou hast poisoned me! Thus mayst thou also perish!" and with one
shriek he flung himself upon her. She saw his purpose, and swift and supple=
as
a tiger sprang to one side, so that he did but grasp her royal cloak, teari=
ng
it from its emerald clasp. Down he fell upon the ground, rolling over and o=
ver
in the purple chiton, till presently he lay still and dead, his tormented f=
ace
and frozen eyes peering ghastly from its folds.
"Ah!" said the Queen, with a hard la=
ugh,
"the slave died wondrous hard, and fain would have drawn me with him. =
See,
he has borrowed my garment for a pall! Take him away and bury him in his
livery."
"What means Cleopatra?" said Antony,=
as
the guards dragged the corpse away; "the man drank of my cup. What is =
the
purpose of this most sorry jest?"
"It serves a double end, noble Antony! Th=
is
very night that man would have fled to Octavianus, bearing of our treasure =
with
him. Well, I have lent him wings, for the dead fly fast! Also this: thou di=
dst
fear that I should poison thee, my Lord; nay, I know it. See now, Antony, h=
ow
easy it were that I should slay thee if I had the will. That wreath of rose=
s which
thou didst steep within the cup is dewed with deadly bane. Had I, then, a m=
ind
to make an end of thee, I had not stayed thy hand. O Antony, henceforth tru=
st
me! Sooner would I slay myself than harm one hair of thy beloved head! See,
here come my messengers! Speak, what did ye find?"
"Royal Egypt, we found this. All things in
the chamber of Eudosius are made ready for flight, and in his baggage is mu=
ch
treasure."
"Thou hearest?" she said, smiling
darkly. "Think ye, my loyal servants all, that Cleopatra is one with w=
hom
it is well to play the traitor? Be warned by this Roman's fate!"
Then a great silence of fear fell upon the
company, and Antony sat also silent.
Now I, Harmachis, must make speed with my task,
setting down that which is permitted as shortly as may be, and leaving much
untold. For of this I am warned, that Doom draws on and my days are wellnigh
sped. After the drawing forth of Antony from the Timonium came that time of
heavy quiet which heralds the rising of the desert wind. Antony and Cleopat=
ra once
again gave themselves up to luxury, and night by night feasted in splendour=
at
the palace. They sent ambassadors to Cæsar; but Cæsar would have none of th=
em;
and, this hope being gone, they turned their minds to the defence of
Alexandria. Men were gathered, ships were built, and a great force was made
ready against the coming of Cæsar.
And now, aided by Charmion, I began my last wo=
rk
of hate and vengeance. I wormed myself deep into the secrets of the palace,
counselling all things for evil. I bade Cleopatra keep Antony gay, lest he
should brood upon his sorrows: and thus she sapped his strength and energy =
with
luxury and wine. I gave him of my draughts--draughts that sank his soul in
dreams of happiness and power, leaving him to wake to a heavier misery. Soo=
n,
without my healing medicine he could not sleep, and thus, being ever at his
side, I bound his weakened will to mine, till at last he would do little if=
I
said not "It is well." Cleopatra, also grown very superstitious,
leaned much upon me; for I prophesied falsely to her in secret.
Moreover, I wove other webs. My fame was great
throughout Egypt, for during the long years that I had dwelt in Tápé it had
spread through all the land. Therefore many men of note came to me, both for
their health's sake and because it was known that I had the ear of Antony a=
nd
the Queen; and, in these days of doubt and trouble, they were fain to learn=
the
truth. All these men I worked upon with doubtful words, sapping their loyal=
ty;
and I caused many to fall away, and yet none could bear an evil report of w=
hat
I had said. Also, Cleopatra sent me to Memphis, there to move the Priests a=
nd
Governors that they should gather men in Upper Egypt for the defence of
Alexandria. And I went and spoke to the priests with such a double meaning =
and
with so much wisdom that they knew me to be one of the initiated in the dee=
per
mysteries. But how I, Olympus the physician, came thus to be initiated none
might say. And afterwards they sought me secretly, and I gave them the holy
sign of brotherhood; and thereunder bade them not to ask who I might be, bu=
t send
no aid to Cleopatra. Rather, I said, must they make peace with Cæsar, for by
Cæsar's grace only could the worship of the Gods endure in Khem. So, having
taken counsel of the Holy Apis, they promised in public to give help to
Cleopatra, but in secret sent an embassy to Cæsar.
Thus, then, it came to pass that Egypt gave but
little aid to its hated Macedonian Queen. Thence from Memphis I came once m=
ore
to Alexandria, and, having made favourable report, continued my secret work.
And, indeed, the Alexandrians could not easily be stirred, for, as they say=
in
the marketplace, "The ass looks at its burden and is blind to its mast=
er."
Cleopatra had oppressed them so long that the Roman was like a welcome frie=
nd.
Thus the time passed on, and every night found
Cleopatra with fewer friends than that which had gone before, for in evil d=
ays
friends fly like swallows before the frost. Yet she would not give up Anton=
y,
whom she loved; though to my knowledge Cæsar, by his freedman, Thyreus, mad=
e promise
to her of her dominions for herself and for her children if she would but s=
lay
Antony, or even betray him bound. But to this her woman's heart--for still =
she
had a heart--would not consent, and, moreover, we counselled her against it,
for of necessity we must hold him to her, lest, Antony escaping or being sl=
ain,
Cleopatra might ride out the storm and yet be Queen of Egypt. And this grie=
ved
me, because Antony, though weak, was still a brave man, and a great; and,
moreover, in my own heart I read the lesson of his woes. For were we not ak=
in
in wretchedness? Had not the same woman robbed us of Empire, Friends, and
Honour? But pity has no place in politics, nor could it turn my feet from t=
he
path of vengeance it was ordained that I should tread. Cæsar drew nigh;
Pelusium fell; the end was at hand. It was Charmion who brought the tidings=
to the
Queen and Antony, as they slept in the heat of the day, and I came with her=
.
"Awake!" she cried. "Awake! Thi=
s is
no time for sleep! Seleucus hath surrendered Pelusium to Cæsar, who marches
straight on Alexandria!"
With a great oath, Antony sprang up and clutch=
ed
Cleopatra by the arm.
"Thou hast betrayed me--by the Gods I swe=
ar
it! Now thou shalt pay the price!" And snatching up his sword he drew =
it.
"Stay thy hand, Antony!" she cried.
"It is false--I know naught of this!" And she sprang upon him, and
clung about his neck, weeping. "I know naught, my Lord. Take thou the =
wife
of Seleucus and his little children, whom I hold in guard, and avenge thyse=
lf.
O Antony, Antony! why dost thou doubt me?"
Then Antony threw down his sword upon the marb=
le,
and, casting himself upon the couch, hid his face, and groaned in bitternes=
s of
spirit.
But Charmion smiled, for it was she who had se=
nt
secretly to Seleucus, her friend, counselling him to surrender forthwith,
saying that no fight would be made at Alexandria. And that very night Cleop=
atra
took all her great store of pearls and emeralds--those that remained of the
treasure of Menkau-ra--all her wealth of gold, ebony, ivory, and cinnamon, =
treasure
without price, and placed it in the mausoleum of granite which, after our
Egyptian fashion, she had built upon the hill that is by the Temple of the =
Holy
Isis. These riches she piled up upon a bed of flax, that, when she fired it,
all might perish in the flame and escape the greed of money-loving Octavian=
us.
And she slept henceforth in this tomb, away from Antony; but in the daytime=
she
still saw him at the palace.
But a little while after, when Cæsar with all =
his
great force had already crossed the Caponic mouth of the Nile and was hard =
on Alexandria,
I came to the palace, whither Cleopatra had summoned me. There I found her =
in
the Alabaster Hall, royally clad, a wild light in her eyes, and, with her, =
Iras
and Charmion, and before her guards; and stretched here and there upon the
marble, bodies of dead men, among whom lay one yet dying.
"Greeting, thou Olympus!" she cried.
"Here is a sight to glad a physician's heart--men dead and men sick un=
to
death!"
"What doest thou, O Queen?" I said
affrighted.
"What do I? I wreak justice on these
criminals and traitors; and, Olympus, I learn the ways of death. I have cau=
sed
six different poisons to be given to these slaves, and with an attentive eye
have watched their working. That man," and she pointed to a Nubian,
"he went mad, and raved of his native deserts and his mother. He thoug=
ht
himself a child again, poor fool! and bade her hold him close to her breast=
and
save him from the darkness which drew near. And that Greek, he shrieked, an=
d, shrieking,
died. And this, he wept and prayed for pity, and in the end, like a coward,
breathed his last. Now, note the Egyptian yonder, he who still lives and
groans; first he took the draught--the deadliest draught of all, they
swore--and yet the slave so dearly loves his life he will not leave it! See=
, he
yet strives to throw the poison from him; twice have I given him the cup and
yet he is athirst. What a drunkard we have here! Man, man, knowest thou not
that in death only can peace be found? Struggle no more, but enter into
rest." And even as she spoke, the man, with a great cry, gave up the
spirit.
"There!" she cried, "at length =
the
farce is played--away with those slaves whom I have forced through the
difficult gates of Joy!" and she clapped her hands. But when they had
borne the bodies thence she drew me to her, and spoke thus:
"Olympus, for all thy prophecies, the end=
is
at hand. Cæsar must conquer, and I and my Lord Antony be lost. Now, therefo=
re,
the play being wellnigh done, I must make ready to leave this stage of eart=
h in
such fashion as becomes a Queen. For this cause, then, I do make trial of t=
hese
poisons, seeing that in my person I must soon endure those agonies of death
that to-day I give to others. These drugs please me not; some wrench out the
soul with cruel pains, and some too slowly work their end. But thou art ski=
lled
in the medicines of death. Now, do thou prepare me such a draught as shall,
pangless, steal my life away."
And as I listened the sense of triumph filled =
my
bitter heart, for I knew now that by my own hand should this ruined woman d=
ie
and the justice of the Gods be done.
"Spoken like a Queen, O Cleopatra!" I
said. "Death shall cure thy ills, and I will brew such a wine as shall
draw him down a sudden friend and sink thee in a sea of slumber whence, upon
this earth, thou shalt never wake again. Oh! fear not Death: Death is thy h=
ope;
and, surely, thou shalt pass sinless and pure of heart into the dreadful
presence of the Gods!"
She trembled. "And if the heart be not
altogether pure, tell me--thou dark man--what then? Nay, I fear not the God=
s!
for if the Gods of Hell be men, there I shall Queen it also. At the least,
having once been royal, royal I shall ever be."
And, as she spoke, suddenly from the palace ga=
tes
came a great clamour, and the noise of joyful shouting.
"Why, what is this?" she said, sprin=
ging
from her couch.
"Antony! Antony!" rose the cry;
"Antony hath conquered!"
She turned swiftly and ran, her long hair
streaming on the wind. I followed her, more slowly, down the great hall, ac=
ross
the courtyards, to the palace gates. And here she met Antony, riding through
them, radiant with smiles and clad in his Roman armour. When he saw her he
leapt to the ground, and, all armed as he was, clasped her to his breast.
"What is it?" she cried; "is Cæ=
sar
fallen?"
"Nay, not altogether fallen, Egypt: but we
have beat his horsemen back to their trenches, and, like the beginning, so
shall be the end, for, as they say here, 'Where the head goes, the tail will
follow.' Moreover, Cæsar has my challenge, and if he will but meet me hand =
to
hand, the world shall soon see which is the better man, Antony or Octavian.=
"
And even as he spoke and the people cheered there came the cry of "A m=
essenger
from Cæsar!"
The herald entered, and, bowing low, gave a
writing to Antony, bowed again, and went. Cleopatra snatched it from his ha=
nd,
broke the silk and read aloud:
"Cæsar to Antony, greeting.
"This answer to thy challenge: Can Antony
find no better way of death than beneath the sword of Cæsar? Farewell!"=
;
And thereafter they cheered no more.
The darkness came, and before it was midnight,
having feasted with his friends who to-night went over his woes and to-morr=
ow
should betray him, Antony went forth to the gathering of the captains of the
land-forces and of the fleet, attended by many, among whom was I.
When all were come together, he spoke to them,
standing bareheaded in their midst, beneath the radiance of the moon. And t=
hus
he most nobly spoke:
"Friends and companions in arms! who yet
cling to me, and whom many a time I have led to victory, hearken to me now,=
who
to-morrow may lie in the dumb dust, disempired and dishonoured. This is our
design: no longer will we hang on poised wings above the flood of war, but =
will
straightway plunge, perchance thence to snatch the victor's diadem, or, fai=
ling,
there to drown. Be now but true to me, and to your honour's sake, and you m=
ay
still sit, the most proud of men, at my right hand in the Capitol of Rome. =
Fail
me now, and the cause of Antony is lost and so are ye. To-morrow's battle m=
ust
be hazardous indeed, but we have stood many a time and faced a fiercer peri=
l,
and ere the sun had sunk, once more have driven armies like desert sands be=
fore
our gale of valour and counted the spoil of hostile kings. What have we to
fear? Though allies be fled, still is our array as strong as Cæsar's! And s=
how
we but as high a heart, why, I swear to you, upon my princely word, to-morr=
ow night
I shall deck yonder Canopic gate with the heads of Octavian and his captain=
s!
"Ay, cheer, and cheer again! I love that
martial music which swells, not as from the indifferent lips of clarions, n=
ow
'neath the breath of Antony and now of Cæsar, but rather out of the single
hearts of men who love me. Yet--and now I will speak low, as we do speak o'=
er
the bier of some beloved dead--yet, if Fortune should rise against me and i=
f,
borne down by the weight of arms, Antony, the soldier, dies a soldier's dea=
th, leaving
you to mourn him who ever was your friend, this is my will, that, after our
rough fashion of the camp, I here declare to you. You know where all my
treasure lies. Take it, most dear friends; and, in the memory of Antony, ma=
ke
just division. Then go to Cæsar and speak thus: 'Antony, the dead, to Cæsar,
the living, sends greeting; and, in the name of ancient fellowship and of m=
any
a peril dared, craves this boon: the safety of those who clung to him and t=
hat
which he hath given them.'
"Nay, let not my tears--for I must
weep--overflow your eyes! Why, it is not manly; 'tis most womanish! All men
must die, and death were welcome were it not so lone. Should I fall, I leav=
e my
children to your tender care--if, perchance, it may avail to save them from=
the
fate of helplessness. Soldiers, enough! to-morrow at the dawn we spring on =
Cæsar's
throat, both by land and sea. Swear that ye will cling to me, even to the l=
ast
issue!"
"We swear!" they cried. "Noble
Antony, we swear!"
"It is well! Once more my star grows brig=
ht;
to-morrow, set in the highest heaven, it yet may shine the lamp of Cæsar do=
wn!
Till then, farewell!"
He turned to go. As he went they caught his ha=
nd
and kissed it; and so deeply were they moved that many wept like children; =
nor
could Antony master his grief, for, in the moonlight, I saw tears roll down=
his
furrowed cheeks and fall upon that mighty breast.
And, seeing all this, I was much troubled. For=
I
well knew that if these men held firm to Antony all might yet go well for
Cleopatra; and though I bore no ill-will against Antony, yet he must fall, =
and
in that fall drag down the woman who, like some poisonous plant, had twined
herself about his giant strength till it choked and mouldered in her embrac=
e.
Therefore, when Antony went I went not, but st=
ood
back in the shadow watching the faces of the lords and captains as they spo=
ke
together.
"Then it is agreed!" said he who sho=
uld
lead the fleet. "And this we swear to, one and all, that we will cling=
to
noble Antony to the last extremity of fortune!"
"Ay! ay!" they answered.
"Ay! ay!" I said, speaking from the
shadow; "cling, and die!"
They turned fiercely and seized me.
"Who is he?" quoth one.
"'Tis that dark-faced dog, Olympus!"
cried another. "Olympus, the magician!"
"Olympus, the traitor!" growled anot=
her;
"put an end to him and his magic!" and he drew his sword.
"Ay! slay him; he would betray the Lord
Antony, whom he is paid to doctor."
"Hold a while!" I said in a slow and
solemn voice, "and beware how ye try to murder the servant of the Gods=
. I
am no traitor. For myself, I abide the event here in Alexandria, but to you=
I
say, Flee, flee to Cæsar! I serve Antony and the Queen--I serve them truly;=
but
above all I serve the Holy Gods; and what they make known to me, that, Lord=
s, I
do know. And I know this: that Antony is doomed, and Cleopatra is doomed, f=
or
Cæsar conquers. Therefore, because I honour you, noble gentlemen, and think
with pity on your wives, left widowed, and your little fatherless children,
that shall, if ye hold to Antony, be sold as slaves--therefore, I say, clin=
g to
Antony if ye will and die; or flee to Cæsar and be saved! And this I say
because it is so ordained of the Gods."
"The Gods!" they growled; "what
Gods? Slit the traitor's throat, and stop his ill-omened talk!"
"Let him show us a sign from his Gods or =
let
him die: I do mistrust this man," said another.
"Stand back, ye fools!" I cried.
"Stand back--free mine arms--and I will show you a sign;" and the=
re
was that in my face which frightened them, for they freed me and stood back.
Then I lifted up my hands and putting out all my strength of soul searched =
the
depths of space till my Spirit communed with the Spirit of my Mother Isis. =
Only
the Word of Power I uttered not, as I had been bidden. And the holy mystery=
of
the Goddess answered to my Spirit's cry, falling in awful silence upon the =
face
of the earth. Deeper and deeper grew the terrible silence; even the dogs ce=
ased
to howl, and in the city men stood still afeared. Then, from far away, there
came the ghostly music of the sistra. Faint it was at first, but ever as it
came it grew more loud, till the air shivered with the unearthly sound of
terror. I said naught, but pointed with my hand toward the sky. And behold!=
bosomed
upon the air, floated a vast veiled Shape that, heralded by the swelling mu=
sic
of the sistra, drew slowly near, till its shadow lay upon us. It came, it
passed, it went toward the camp of Cæsar, till at length the music died awa=
y,
and the awful Shape was swallowed in the night.
"It is Bacchus!" cried one.
"Bacchus, who leaves lost Antony!" and, as he spoke, there rose a
groan of terror from all the camp.
But I knew that it was not Bacchus, the false =
God,
but the Divine Isis who deserted Khem, and, passing over the edge of the wo=
rld,
sought her home in space, to be no more known of men. For though her worshi=
p is
still upheld, though still she is here and in all Earths, Isis manifests he=
rself
no more in Egypt. I hid my face and prayed, but when I lifted it from my ro=
be,
lo! all had fled and I was alone.
On the morrow, at dawn, Antony came forth and =
gave
command that his fleet should advance against the fleet of Cæsar, and that =
his
cavalry should open the land-battle with the cavalry of Cæsar. Accordingly,=
the
fleet advanced in a triple line, and the fleet of Cæsar came out to meet it.
But when they met, the galleys of Antony lifted their oars in greeting, and
passed over to the galleys of Cæsar; and they sailed away together. And the
cavalry of Antony rode forth beyond the Hippodrome to charge the cavalry of
Cæsar; but when they met, they lowered their swords and passed over to the =
camp
of Cæsar, deserting Antony. Then Antony grew mad with rage and terrible to =
see.
He shouted to his legions to stand firm and wait attack; and for a little w=
hile
they stood. One man, however--that same officer who would have slain me on =
the yesternight--strove
to fly; but Antony seized him with his own hand, threw him to the earth, an=
d,
springing from his horse, drew his sword to slay him. He held his sword on
high, while the man, covering his face, awaited death. But Antony dropped h=
is
sword and bade him rise.
"Go!" he said. "Go to Cæsar, and
prosper! I did love thee once. Why, then, among so many traitors, should I
single thee out for death?"
The man rose and looked upon him sorrowfully.
Then, shame overwhelming him, with a great cry he tore open his shirt of ma=
il,
plunged his sword into his own heart and fell down dead. Antony stood and g=
azed
at him, but he said never a word. Meanwhile the ranks of Cæsar's legions dr=
ew near,
and so soon as they crossed spears the legions of Antony turned and fled. T=
hen
the soldiers of Cæsar stood still mocking them; but scarce a man was slain,=
for
they pursued not.
"Fly, Lord Antony! fly!" cried Eros,=
his
servant, who alone with me stayed by him. "Fly ere thou art dragged a
prisoner to Cæsar!"
So he turned and fled, groaning heavily. I went
with him, and as we rode through the Canopic gate, where many folk stood
wondering, Antony spoke to me:
"Go, thou, Olympus; go to the Queen and s=
ay:
'Antony sends greeting to Cleopatra, who hath betrayed him! To Cleopatra he
sends greeting and farewell!'"
And so I went to the tomb, but Antony fled to =
the
palace. When I came to the tomb I knocked upon the door, and Charmion looked
forth from the window.
"Open," I cried, and she opened.
"What news, Harmachis?" she whispere=
d.
"Charmion," I said, "the end is=
at
hand. Antony is fled!"
"It is well," she answered; "I =
am
aweary."
And there on her golden bed sat Cleopatra.
"Speak, man!" she cried.
"Antony has fled, his forces are fled, Cæ=
sar
draws near. To Cleopatra the great Antony sends greeting and farewell. Gree=
ting
to Cleopatra who betrayed him, and farewell."
"It is a lie!" she screamed; "I
betrayed him not! Thou, Olympus, go swiftly to Antony and answer thus: 'To
Antony, Cleopatra, who hath not betrayed him, sends greeting and farewell.
Cleopatra is no more.'"
And so I went, following out my purpose. In the
Alabaster Hall I found Antony pacing to and fro, tossing his hands toward
heaven, and with him Eros, for of all his servants Eros alone remained by t=
his
fallen man.
"Lord Antony," I said, "Egypt b=
ids
thee farewell. Egypt is dead by her own hand."
"Dead! dead!" he whispered, "an=
d is
Egypt dead? and is that form of glory now food for worms? Oh, what a woman =
was
this! E'en now my heart goes out towards her. And shall she outdo me at the
last, I who have been so great; shall I become so small that a woman can
overtop my courage and pass where I fear to follow? Eros, thou hast loved me
from a boy--mindest thou how I found thee starving in the desert, and made =
thee
rich, giving thee place and wealth? Come, now pay me back. Draw that sword =
thou
wearest and make an end of the woes of Antony."
"Oh, Sire," cried the Greek, "I
cannot! How can I take away the life of godlike Antony?"
"Answer me not, Eros; but in the last ext=
reme
of fate this I charge thee. Do thou my bidding, or begone and leave me quite
alone! No more will I see thy face, thou unfaithful servant!"
Then Eros drew his sword and Antony knelt befo=
re
him and bared his breast, turning his eyes to heaven. But Eros, crying &quo=
t;I
cannot! oh, I cannot!" plunged the sword to his own heart, and fell de=
ad.
Antony rose and gazed upon him. "Why, Ero=
s,
that was nobly done," he said. "Thou art greater than I, yet I ha=
ve
learned thy lesson!" and he knelt down and kissed him.
Then, rising of a sudden, he drew the sword fr=
om
the heart of Eros, plunged it into his bowels, and fell, groaning, on the
couch.
"O thou, Olympus," he cried, "t=
his
pain is more than I can bear! Make an end of me, Olympus!"
But pity stirred me, and I could not do this
thing.
Therefore I drew the sword from his vitals,
staunched the flow of blood, and, calling to those who came crowding in to =
see
Antony die, I bade them summon Atoua from my house at the palace gates.
Presently she came, bringing with her simples and life-giving draughts. The=
se I
gave to Antony, and bade Atoua go with such speed as her old limbs might to=
Cleopatra,
in the tomb, and tell her of the state of Antony.
So she went, and after a while returned, saying
that the Queen yet lived and summoned Antony to die in her arms. And with h=
er
came Diomedes. When Antony heard, his ebbing strength came back, for he was
fain to look upon Cleopatra's face again. So I called to the slaves--who pe=
eped
and peered through curtains and from behind pillars to see this great man d=
ie--and
together, with much toil, we bore him thence till we came to the foot of the
Mausoleum.
But Cleopatra, being afraid of treachery, woul=
d no
more throw wide the door; so she let down a rope from the window and we mad=
e it
fast beneath the arms of Antony. Then did Cleopatra, who the while wept mos=
t bitterly,
together with Charmion and Iras the Greek, pull on the rope with all their
strength, while we lifted from below till the dying Antony swung in the air,
groaning heavily, and the blood dropped from his gaping wound. Twice he nea=
rly
fell to earth: but Cleopatra, striving with the strength of love and of
despair, held him till at length she drew him through the windowplace, while
all who saw the dreadful sight wept bitterly, and beat their breasts--all s=
ave
myself and Charmion.
When he was in, once more the rope was let dow=
n,
and, with some aid from Charmion, I climbed into the tomb, drawing up the r=
ope
after me. There I found Antony, laid upon the golden bed of Cleopatra; and =
she,
her breast bare, her face stained with tears, and her hair streaming wildly
about him, knelt at his side and kissed him, wiping the blood from his woun=
ds with
her robes and hair. And let all my shame be written: as I stood and watched=
her
the old love awoke once more within me, and mad jealousy raged in my heart
because--though I could destroy these twain--I could not destroy their love=
.
"O Antony! my Sweet, my Husband, and my
God!" she moaned. "Cruel Antony, hast thou the heart to die and l=
eave
me to my lonely shame? I will follow thee swiftly to the grave. Antony, awa=
ke!
awake!"
He lifted up his head and called for wine, whi=
ch I
gave him, mixing therein a draught that might allay his pain, for it was gr=
eat.
And when he had drunk he bade Cleopatra lie down on the bed beside him, and=
put
her arms about him; and this she did. Then was Antony once more a man; for,
forgetting his own misery and pain, he counselled her as to her own safety:=
but
to this talk she would not listen.
"The hour is short," she said; "=
;let
us speak of this great love of ours that hath been so long and may yet endu=
re
beyond the coasts of Death. Mindest thou that night when first thou didst p=
ut
thine arms about me and call me 'Love'? Oh! happy, happy night! Having known
that night it is well to have lived--even to this bitter end!"
"Ay, Egypt, I mind it well and dwell upon=
its
memory, though from that hour fortune has fled from me--lost in my depth of
love for thee, thou Beautiful. I mind it!" he gasped; "then didst
thou drink the pearl in wanton play, and then did that astrologer of thine =
call
out his hour--'The hour of the coming of the curse of Menkau-ra.' Through a=
ll the
after-days those words have haunted me, and now at the last they ring in my
ears."
"He is long dead, my love," she
whispered.
"If he be dead, then I am near him. What
meant he?"
"He is dead, the accursed man!--no more of
him! Oh! turn and kiss me, for thy face grows white. The end is near!"=
He kissed her on the lips, and for a little wh=
ile
so they stayed, to the moment of death, babbling their passion in each othe=
r's
ears, like lovers newly wed. Even to my jealous heart, it was a strange and
awful thing to see.
Presently, I saw the Change of Death gather on=
his
face. His head fell back.
"Farewell, Egypt; farewell!--I die!"=
Cleopatra lifted herself upon her hands, gazed
wildly on his ashen face, and then, with a great cry, she sank back swoonin=
g.
But Antony yet lived, though the power of spee=
ch
had left him. Then I drew near and, kneeling, made pretence to minister to =
him.
And as I ministered I whispered in his ear:
"Antony," I whispered, "Cleopat=
ra
was my love before she passed from me to thee. I am Harmachis, that astrolo=
ger
who stood behind thy couch at Tarsus; and I have been the chief minister of=
thy
ruin.
"Die, Antony!--the curse of Menkau-ra hath
fallen!"
He raised himself, and stared upon my face. He
could not speak, but, gibbering, he pointed at me. Then with a groan his sp=
irit
fled.
Thus did I accomplish my revenge upon Roman
Antony, the World-loser.
Thereafter, we recovered Cleopatra from her sw=
oon,
for not yet was I minded that she should die. And taking the body of Antony,
Cæsar permitting, I and Atoua caused it to be most skilfully embalmed after=
our
Egyptian fashion, covering the face with a mask of gold fashioned like to t=
he
features of Antony. Also I wrote upon his breast his name and titles, and
painted his name and the name of his father within his inner coffin, and dr=
ew
the form of the Holy Nout folding her wings about him.
Then with great pomp Cleopatra laid him in that
sepulchre which had been made ready, and in a sarcophagus of alabaster. Now,
this sarcophagus was fashioned so large that place was left in it for a sec=
ond
coffin, for Cleopatra would lie by Antony at the last.
These things then happened. And but a little w=
hile
after I learned tidings from one Cornelius Dolabella, a noble Roman who wai=
ted
upon Cæsar, and, moved by the beauty that swayed the souls of all who looke=
d upon
her, had pity for the woes of Cleopatra. He bade me warn her--for, as her
physician, it was allowed me to pass in and out of the tomb where she
dwelt--that in three days she would be sent away to Rome, together with her
children, save Cæsarion, whom Octavian had already slain, that she might wa=
lk
in the triumph of Cæsar. Accordingly I went in, and found her sitting, as n=
ow
she always sat, plunged in a half stupor, and before her that blood-stained
robe with which she had staunched the wounds of Antony. For on this she wou=
ld
continually feast her eyes.
"See how faint they grow, Olympus," =
she
said, lifting her sad face and pointing to the rusty stains, "and he so
lately dead! Why, Gratitude could not fade more fast. What is now thy news?
Evil tidings is writ large in those dark eyes of thine, which ever bring ba=
ck
to me something that still slips my mind."
"The news is ill, O Queen," I answer=
ed.
"I have this from the lips of Dolabella, who has it straight from Cæsa=
r's
secretary. On the third day from now Cæsar will send thee and the Princes
Ptolemy and Alexander and the Princess Cleopatra to Rome, there to feast the
eyes of the Roman mob, and be led in triumph to that Capitol where thou did=
st
swear to set thy throne!"
"Never, never!" she cried, springing=
to
her feet. "Never will I walk in chains in Cæsar's triumph! What must I=
do?
Charmion, tell me what I can do!"
And Charmion, rising, stood before her, lookin=
g at
her through the long lashes of her downcast eyes.
"Lady, thou canst die," she said
quietly.
"Ay, of a truth I had forgotten; I can di=
e.
Olympus, hast thou the drug?"
"Nay; but if the Queen wills it, by to-mo=
rrow
morn it shall be brewed--a drug so swift and strong that not the Gods
themselves can hold him who drinks it back from sleep."
"Let it be made ready, thou Master of
Death!"
I bowed, and withdrew myself; and all that nig=
ht I
and old Atoua laboured at the distilling of the deadly draught. At length it
was done, and Atoua poured it into a crystal phial, and held it to the ligh=
t of
the fire; for it was white as the purest water.
"La! la!" she sang, in her shrill vo=
ice;
"a drink for a Queen! When fifty drops of that water of my brewing have
passed those red lips of hers, thou wilt indeed be avenged of Cleopatra, O
Harmachis! Ah, that I could be there to see thy Ruin ruined! La! la! it wou=
ld
be sweet to see!"
"Vengeance is an arrow that oft-times fal=
ls
upon the archer's head," I answered, bethinking me of Charmion's sayin=
g.
On the morrow Cleopatra, having sought leave of
Cæsar, visited the tomb of Antony, crying that the Gods of Egypt had desert=
ed
her. And when she had kissed the coffin and covered it with lotus-flowers s=
he
came back, bathed, anointed herself, put on her most splendid robes, and,
together with Iras, Charmion, and myself, she supped. Now as she supped her=
spirit
flared up wildly, even as the sky lights up at sunset; and once more she
laughed and sparkled as in bygone years, telling us tales of feasts which s=
he
and Antony had eaten of. Never, indeed, did I see her look more beauteous t=
han
on that last fatal night of vengeance. And thus her mind drew on to that su=
pper
at Tarsus when she drank the pearl.
"Strange," she said; "strange t=
hat
at the last the mind of Antony should have turned back to that night among =
all
the nights and to the saying of Harmachis. Charmion, dost thou remember Har=
machis
the Egyptian?"
"Surely, O Queen," she answered slow=
ly.
"And who, then, was Harmachis?" I as=
ked;
for I would learn if she sorrowed o'er my memory.
"I will tell thee. It is a strange tale, =
and
now that all is done it may well be told. This Harmachis was of the ancient
race of the Pharaohs, and, having, indeed, been crowned in secret at Abydus,
was sent hither to Alexandria to carry out a great plot that had been formed
against the rule of us royal Lagidæ. He came and gained entry to the palace=
as
my astrologer, for he was very learned in all magic--much as thou art, Olym=
pus--and
a man beautiful to see. Now this was his plot--that he should slay me and be
named Pharaoh. In truth it was a strong one, for he had many friends in Egy=
pt,
and I had few. And on that very night when he should carry out his purpose,
yea, at the very hour, came Charmion yonder, and told the plot to me; saying
that she had chanced upon its clue. But, in after days--though I have said
little thereon to thee, Charmion--I misdoubted me much of that tale of thin=
e;
for, by the Gods! to this hour I believe that thou didst love Harmachis, and
because he scorned thee thou didst betray him; and for that cause also hast=
all
thy days remained a maid, which is a thing unnatural. Come, Charmion, tell =
us;
for naught matters now at the end."
Charmion shivered and made answer: "It is
true, O Queen; I also was of the plot, and because Harmachis scorned me I
betrayed him; and because of my great love for him I have remained unwed.&q=
uot;
And she glanced up at me and caught my eyes, then let the modest lashes veil
her own.
"So! I thought it. Strange are the ways of
women! But little cause, methinks, had that Harmachis to thank thee for thy
love. What sayest thou, Olympus? Ah, and so thou also wast a traitor, Charm=
ion?
How dangerous are the paths which Monarchs tread! Well, I forgive thee, for=
thou
hast served me faithfully since that hour.
"But to my tale. Harmachis I dared not sl=
ay,
lest his great party should rise in fury and cast me from the throne. And n=
ow
mark the issue. Though he must murder me, in secret this Harmachis loved me,
and something thereof I guessed. I had striven a little to draw him to me, =
for
the sake of his beauty and his wit; and for the love of man Cleopatra never=
strove
in vain. Therefore when, with the dagger in his robe, he came to slay me, I
matched my charms against his will, and need I tell you, being man and woma=
n,
how I won? Oh, never can I forget the look in the eyes of that fallen princ=
e,
that forsworn priest, that discrowned Pharaoh, when, lost in the poppied
draught, I saw him sink into a shameful sleep whence he might no more wake =
with
honour! And, thereafter--till, in the end, I wearied of him, and his sad
learned mind, for his guilty soul forbade him to be gay--a little I came to
care for him, though not to love. But he--he who loved me--clung to me as a=
drunkard
to the cup which ruins him. Deeming that I should wed him, he betrayed to me
the secret of the hidden wealth of the pyramid of Her--for at the time I mu=
ch
needed treasure--and together we dared the terrors of the tomb and drew it
forth, even from dead Pharaoh's breast. See, this emerald was a part
thereof!"--and she pointed to the great scarabæus that she had drawn f=
rom
the holy heart of Menkau-ra.
"And because of what was written in the t=
omb,
and of that Thing which we saw in the tomb--ah, pest upon it! why does its
memory haunt me now?--and also because of policy, for I would fain have won=
the
love of the Egyptians, I was minded to marry this Harmachis and declare his=
place
and lineage to the world--ay, and by his aid hold Egypt from the Roman. For
Dellius had then come to call me to Antony, and after much thought I determ=
ined
to send him back with sharp words. But on that very morning, as I tired me =
for
the Court, came Charmion yonder, and I told her this, for I would see how t=
he
matter fell upon her mind. Now mark, Olympus, the power of jealousy, that
little wedge which yet has strength to rend the tree of Empire, that secret
sword which can carve the fate of Kings! This she could in no wise bear--de=
ny
it, Charmion, if thou canst, for now it is clear to me!--that the man she l=
oved
should be given to me as husband--me, whom he loved! And therefore, with mo=
re skill
and wit than I can tell, she reasoned with me, showing that I should by no
means do this thing, but journey to Antony; and for that, Charmion, I thank
thee, now that all is come and gone. And by a very little, her words weighed
down my scale of judgment against Harmachis, and I went to Antony. Thus it =
is
through the jealous spleen of yonder fair Charmion and the passion of a man=
on
which I played as on a lyre, that all these things have come to pass. For t=
his
cause Octavian sits a King in Alexandria; for this cause Antony is discrown=
ed
and dead; and for this cause I, too, must die to-night! Ah! Charmion! Charm=
ion!
thou hast much to answer, for thou hast changed the story of the world; and=
yet,
even now--I would not have it otherwise!"
She paused awhile, covering her eyes with her
hand; and, looking, I saw great tears upon the cheek of Charmion.
"And of this Harmachis," I asked;
"where is he now, O Queen?"
"Where is he? In Amenti, forsooth--making=
his
peace with Isis, perchance. At Tarsus I saw Antony, and loved him; and from
that moment I loathed the sight of the Egyptian, and swore to make an end of
him; for a lover done with should be a lover dead. And, being jealous, he s=
poke
some words of evil omen, even at that Feast of the Pearl; and on the same n=
ight
I would have slain him, but before the deed was done, he was gone."
"And whither was he gone?"
"Nay; that know not I. Brennus--he who le=
d my
guard, and last year sailed North to join his own people--Brennus swore he =
saw
him float to the skies; but in this matter I misdoubted me of Brennus, for
methinks he loved the man. Nay, he sank off Cyprus, and was drowned; percha=
nce Charmion
can tell us how?"
"I can tell thee nothing, O Queen; Harmac=
his
is lost."
"And well lost, Charmion, for he was an e=
vil
man to play with--ay, although I bettered him I say it! Well he served my
purpose; but I loved him not, and even now I fear him; for it seemed to me =
that
I heard his voice summoning me to fly, through the din of the fight at Acti=
um. Thanks
be to the Gods, as thou sayest, he is lost, and can no more be found."=
But I, listening, put forth my strength, and, =
by
the arts I have, cast the shadow of my Spirit upon the Spirit of Cleopatra =
so
that she felt the presence of the lost Harmachis.
"Nay, what is it?" she said. "By
Serapis! I grow afraid! It seems to me that I feel Harmachis here! His memo=
ry
overwhelms me like a flood of waters, and he these ten years dead! Oh! at s=
uch
a time it is unholy!"
"Nay, O Queen," I answered, "if=
he
be dead then he is everywhere, and well at such a time--the time of thy own
death--may his Spirit draw near to welcome thine at its going."
"Speak not thus, Olympus. I would see
Harmachis no more; the count between us is too heavy, and in another world =
than
this more evenly, perchance should we be matched. Ah, the terror passes! I =
was but
unnerved. Well the fool's story hath served to wile away the heaviest of our
hours, the hour which ends in death. Sing to me, Charmion, sing, for thy vo=
ice
is very sweet, and I would soothe my soul to sleep. The memory of that
Harmachis has wrung me strangely! Sing, then, the last song I shall hear fr=
om
those tuneful lips of thine, the last of so many songs."
"It is a sad hour for song, O Queen!"
said Charmion; but, nevertheless, she took her harp and sang. And thus she
sang, very soft and low, the dirge of the sweet-tongued Syrian Meleager:
T=
ears
for my lady dead, Heliodore! <=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> Salt tears and strange to shed, Over and o'er; Go tears and low lament Fare from her tomb, Wend where my lady went, Down through the gloom-- Sighs for my lady dead, Tears do I send, Long love remembered, Mistress and friend! Sad are the songs we sing, Tears that we shed, Empty the gifts we bring-- Gifts to the dead! Ah, for my flower, my Love, Hades hath taken, Ah, for the dust above, Scattered and shaken! Mother of blade and grass, Earth, in thy breast Lull her that gentlest was, Gently to rest!
The music of her voice died away, and it was so
sweet and sad that Iras began to weep and the bright tears stood in Cleopat=
ra's
stormy eyes. Only I wept not; my tears were dry.
"'Tis a heavy song of thine, Charmion,&qu=
ot;
said the Queen. "Well, as thou saidst, it is a sad hour for song, and =
thy
dirge is fitted to the hour. Sing it over me once again when I lie dead,
Charmion. And now farewell to music, and on to the end. Olympus, take yonder
parchment and write what I shall say."
I took the parchment and the reed, and wrote t=
hus
in the Roman tongue:
"Cleopatra to Octavianus, greeting.
"This is the state of life. At length the=
re
comes an hour when, rather than endure those burdens that overwhelm us, put=
ting
off the body we would take wing into forgetfulness. Cæsar, thou hast conque=
red:
take thou the spoils of victory. But in thy triumph Cleopatra cannot walk. =
When
all is lost, then we must go to seek the lost. Thus in the desert of Despair
the brave do harvest Resolution. Cleopatra hath been great as Antony was gr=
eat,
nor shall her fame be minished in the manner of her end. Slaves live to end=
ure
their wrong; but Princes, treading with a firmer step, pass through the gat=
es
of Wrong into the royal Dwellings of the Dead. This only doth Egypt ask of
Cæsar--that he suffer her to lie in the tomb of Antony. Farewell!"
This I wrote, and having sealed the writing,
Cleopatra bade me go find a messenger, despatch it to Cæsar, and then retur=
n.
So I went, and at the door of the tomb I called a soldier who was not on du=
ty,
and, giving him money, bade him take the letter to Cæsar. Then I went back,=
and
there in the chamber the three women stood in silence, Cleopatra clinging to
the arm of Iras, and Charmion a little apart watching the twain.
"If indeed thou art minded to make an end=
, O
Queen," I said, "the time is short, for presently Cæsar will send=
his
servants in answer to thy letter," and I drew forth the phial of white=
and
deadly bane and set it upon the board.
She took it in her hand and gazed thereon.
"How innocent it seems!" she said; "and yet therein lies my
death. 'Tis strange."
"Ay, Queen, and the death of ten other fo=
lk.
No need to take so long a draught."
"I fear," she gasped--"how know=
I
that it will slay outright? I have seen so many die by poison and scarce one
has died outright. And some--ah, I cannot think on them!"
"Fear not," I said, "I am a mas=
ter
of my craft. Or, if thou dost fear, cast this poison forth and live. In Rome
thou mayst still find happiness; ay, in Rome, where thou shalt walk in Cæsa=
r's
triumph, while the laughter of the hard-eyed Latin women shall chime down t=
he
music of thy golden chains."
"Nay, I will die, Olympus. Oh, if one wou=
ld
but show the path."
Then Iras loosed her hand and stepped forward.
"Give me the draught, Physician," she said. "I go to make re=
ady
for my Queen."
"It is well," I answered; "on t=
hy
own head be it!" and I poured from the phial into a little golden gobl=
et.
She raised it, curtsied low to Cleopatra, then,
coming forward, kissed her on the brow, and Charmion she also kissed. This
done, tarrying not and making no prayer, for Iras was a Greek, she drank, a=
nd,
putting her hand to her head, instantly fell down and died.
"Thou seest," I said, breaking in up=
on
the silence, "it is swift."
"Ay, Olympus; thine is a master drug! Come
now, I thirst; fill me the bowl, lest Iras weary in waiting at the gates!&q=
uot;
So I poured afresh into the goblet; but this t=
ime,
making pretence to rinse the cup, I mixed a little water with the bane, for=
I
was not minded that she should die before she knew me.
Then did the royal Cleopatra, taking the goble=
t in
her hand, turn her lovely eyes to heaven and cry aloud:
"O ye Gods of Egypt! who have deserted me=
, to
you no longer will I pray, for your ears are shut unto my crying and your e=
yes
blind to my griefs! Therefore, I make entreaty of that last friend whom the
Gods, departing, leave to helpless man. Sweep hither, Death, whose winnowing
wings enshadow all the world, and give me ear! Draw nigh, thou King of King=
s! who,
with an equal hand, bringest the fortunate head of one pillow with the slav=
e,
and by thy spiritual breath dost waft the bubble of our life far from this =
hell
of earth! Hide me where winds blow not and waters cease to roll; where wars=
are
done and Cæsar's legions cannot march! Take me to a new dominion, and crown=
me
Queen of Peace! Thou art my Lord, O Death, and in thy kiss I have conceived=
. I
am in labour of a Soul: see--it stands new-born upon the edge of Time!
Now--now--go, Life! Come, Sleep! Come, Antony!"
And, with one glance to heaven, she drank, and
cast the goblet to the ground.
Then at last came the moment of my pent-up
vengeance, and of the vengeance of Egypt's outraged Gods, and of the fallin=
g of
the curse of Menkau-ra.
"What's this?" she cried; "I gr=
ow
cold, but I die not! Thou dark physician, thou hast betrayed me!"
"Peace, Cleopatra! Presently shalt thou d=
ie
and know the fury of the Gods! The curse of Menkau-ra hath fallen! It is
finished! Look upon me, woman! Look upon this marred face, this twisted for=
m,
this living mass of sorrow! Look! look! Who am I?"
She stared upon me wildly.
"Oh! oh!" she shrieked, throwing up =
her
arms; "at last I know thee! By the Gods, thou art Harmachis!--Harmachis
risen from the dead!"
"Ay, Harmachis risen from the dead to drag
thee down to death and agony eternal! See, thou Cleopatra; I have ruined th=
ee
as thou didst ruin me! I, working in the dark, and helped of the angry Gods,
have been thy secret spring of woe! I filled thy heart with fear at Actium;=
I
held the Egyptians from thy aid; I sapped the strength of Antony; I showed =
the portent
of the Gods unto thy captains! By my hand at length thou diest, for I am the
instrument of Vengeance! Ruin I pay thee back for ruin, Treachery for
treachery, Death for death! Come hither, Charmion, partner of my plots, who
betrayed me, but, repenting, art the sharer of my triumph, come watch this
fallen wanton die!"
Cleopatra heard, and sank back upon the golden
bed, groaning "And thou, too, Charmion!"
A moment so she sat, then her Imperial spirit
burnt up glorious before she died.
She staggered from the bed, and, with arms
outstretched, she cursed me.
"Oh! for one hour of life!" she
cried--"one short hour, that therein I might make thee die in such fas=
hion
as thou canst not dream, thou and that false paramour of thine, who betrayed
both me and thee! And thou didst love me! Ah, there I have thee still! See,
thou subtle, plotting priest"--and with both hands she rent back the r=
oyal
robes from her bosom--"see, on this fair breast once night by night thy
head was pillowed, and thou didst sleep wrapped in these same arms. Now, put
away their memory if thou canst! I read it in thine eyes--that mayst thou n=
ot!
No torture which I bear can, in its sum, draw nigh to the rage of that deep
soul of thine, rent with longings never, never to be reached! Harmachis, th=
ou
slave of slaves, from thy triumph-depths I snatch a deeper triumph, and
conquered yet I conquer! I spit upon thee--I defy thee--and, dying, doom th=
ee
to the torment of thy deathless love! O Antony! I come, my Antony!--I come =
to
thy own dear arms! Soon I shall find thee, and, wrapped in a love undying a=
nd
divine, together we will float through all the depths of space, and, lips to
lips and eyes to eyes, drink of desires grown more sweet with every draught=
! Or
if I find thee not, then I shall sink in peace down the poppied ways of Sle=
ep:
and for me the breast of Night, whereon I shall be softly cradled, will yet=
seem
thy bosom, Antony! Oh, I die!--come, Antony--and give me peace!"
Even in my fury I had quailed beneath her scor=
n,
for home flew the arrows of her winged words. Alas! and alas! it was true--=
the
shaft of my vengeance fell upon my own head; never had I loved her as I lov=
ed
her now. My soul was rent with jealous torture, and thus I swore she should=
not
die.
"Peace!" I cried; "what peace is
there for thee? Oh! ye Holy Three, hear now my prayer. Osiris, loosen Thou =
the
bonds of Hell and send forth those whom I shall summon! Come Ptolemy, poiso=
ned
of thy sister Cleopatra; come Arsinoë, murdered in the sanctuary by thy sis=
ter Cleopatra;
come Sepa, tortured to death of Cleopatra; come Divine Menkau-ra, whose body
Cleopatra tore and whose curse she braved for greed; come one, come all who
have died at the hands of Cleopatra! Rush from the breast of Nout and greet=
her
who murdered you! By the link of mystic union, by the symbol of the Life,
Spirits, I summon you!"
Thus I spoke the spell; while Charmion,
affrighted, clung to my robe, and the dying Cleopatra, resting on her hands,
swung slowly to and fro, gazing with vacant eyes.
Then the answer came. The casement burst asund=
er,
and on flittering wings that great bat entered which last I had seen hangin=
g to
the eunuch's chin in the womb of the pyramid of Her. Thrice it circled roun=
d,
once it hovered o'er dead Iras, then flew to where the dying woman stood. To
her it flew, on her breast it settled, clinging to that emerald which was
dragged from the dead heart of Menkau-ra. Thrice the grey Horror screamed
aloud, thrice it beat its bony wings, and lo! it was gone.
Then suddenly within that chamber sprang up the
Shapes of Death. There was Arsinoë, the beautiful, even as she had shrunk
beneath the butcher's knife. There was young Ptolemy, his features twisted =
by
the poisoned cup. There was the majesty of Menkau-ra, crowned with the uræus
crown; there was grave Sepa, his flesh all torn by the torturer's hooks; th=
ere
were those poisoned slaves; and there were others without number, shadowy a=
nd
dreadful to behold! who, thronging that narrow chamber, stood silently fixi=
ng
their glassy eyes upon the face of her who slew them!
"Behold! Cleopatra!" I said.
"Behold thy peace, and die!"
"Ay!" said Charmion. "Behold and
die! thou who didst rob me of my honour, and Egypt of her King!"
She looked, she saw the awful Shapes--her Spir=
it,
hurrying from the flesh, mayhap could hear words to which my ears were deaf.
Then her face sank in with terror, her great eyes grew pale, and, shrieking,
Cleopatra fell and died: passing, with that dread company, to her appointed
place.
Thus, then, I, Harmachis, fed my soul with
vengeance, fulfilling the justice of the Gods, and yet knew myself empty of=
all
joy therein. For though that thing we worship doth bring us ruin, and Love
being more pitiless than Death, we in turn do pay all our sorrow back; yet =
we
must worship on, yet stretch out our arms towards our lost Desire, and pour=
our
heart's blood upon the shrine of our discrowned God.
For Love is of the Spirit, and knows not Death=
.
Charmion unclasped my arm, to which she had cl=
ung
in terror.
"Thy vengeance, thou dark Harmachis,"
she said, in a hoarse voice, "is a thing hideous to behold! O lost Egy=
pt,
with all thy sins thou wast indeed a Queen!
"Come, aid me, Prince; let us stretch this
poor clay upon the bed and deck it royally, so that it may give its dumb
audience to the messengers of Cæsar as becomes the last of Egypt's
Queens."
I spoke no word in answer, for my heart was ve=
ry
heavy, and now that all was done I was weary. Together, then, we lifted up =
the
body and laid it on the golden bed. Charmion placed the uræus crown upon the
ivory brow, and combed the night-dark hair that showed never a thread of
silver, and, for the last time, shut those eyes wherein had shone all the c=
hanging
glories of the sea. She folded the chill hands upon the breast whence Passi=
on's
breath had fled, and straightened the bent knees beneath the broidered robe,
and by the head set flowers. And there at length Cleopatra lay, more splend=
id
now in her cold majesty of death than in her richest hour of breathing beau=
ty!
We drew back and looked on her, and on dead Ir=
as
at her feet.
"It is done!" quoth Charmion; "=
we
are avenged, and now, Harmachis, dost follow by this same road?" And s=
he
nodded towards the phial on the board.
"Nay, Charmion. I fly--I fly to a heavier
death! Not thus easily may I end my space of earthly penance."
"So be it, Harmachis! And I, Harmachis--I= fly also, but with swifter wings. My game is played. I, too, have made atonemen= t. Oh! what a bitter fate is mine, to have brought misery on all I love, and, = in the end, to die unloved! To thee I have atoned; to my angered Gods I have atoned; and now I go to find a way whereby I may atone to Cleopatra in that Hell where she is, and which I must share! For she loved me well, Harmachis= ; and, now that she is dead, methinks that, after thee, I loved her best of all. S= o of her cup and the cup of Iras I will surely drink!" And she took the phi= al, and with a steady hand poured what was left of the poison into the goblet.<= o:p>
"Bethink thee, Charmion," I said;
"yet mayst thou live for many years, hiding these sorrows beneath the =
withered
days."
"Yet I may, but I will not! To live the p=
rey
of so many memories, the fount of an undying shame that night by night, as I
lie sleepless, shall well afresh from my sorrow-stricken heart!--to live to=
rn
by a love I cannot lose!--to stand alone like some storm-twisted tree, and,
sighing day by day to the winds of heaven, gaze upon the desert of my life,=
while
I wait the lingering lightning's stroke--nay, that will not I, Harmachis! I=
had
died long since, but I lived on to serve thee; now no more thou needest me,=
and
I go. Oh, fare thee well!--for ever fare thee well! For not again shall I l=
ook
again upon thy face, and there I go thou goest not! For thou dost not love =
me
who still dost love that queenly woman thou hast hounded to the death! Her =
thou
shalt never win, and I thee shall never win, and this is the bitter end of
Fate! See, Harmachis: I ask one boon before I go and for all time become na=
ught
to thee but a memory of shame. Tell me that thou dost forgive me so far as =
thine
is to forgive, and in token thereof kiss me--with no lover's kiss, but kiss=
me
on the brow, and bid me pass in peace."
And she drew near to me with arms outstretched=
and
pitiful trembling lips and gazed upon my face.
"Charmion," I answered, "we are
free to act for good or evil, and yet methinks there is a Fate above our fa=
te,
that, blowing from some strange shore, compels our little sails of purpose,=
set
them as we will, and drives us to destruction. I forgive thee, Charmion, as=
I
trust in turn to be forgiven, and by this kiss, the first and the last, I s=
eal
our peace." And with my lips I touched her brow.
She spoke no more; only for a little while she
stood gazing on me with sad eyes. Then she lifted the goblet, and said:
"Royal Harmachis, in this deadly cup I pl=
edge
thee! Would that I had drunk of it ere ever I looked upon thy face! Pharaoh,
who, thy sins outworn, yet shalt rule in perfect peace o'er worlds I may not
tread, who yet shalt sway a kinglier sceptre than that I robbed thee of, fo=
r ever,
fare thee well!"
She drank, cast down the cup, and for a moment
stood with the wide eyes of one who looks for Death. Then He came, and Char=
mion
the Egyptian fell prone upon the floor, dead. And for a moment more I stood
alone with the dead.
I crept to the side of Cleopatra, and, now that
none were left to see, I sat down on the bed and laid her head upon my knee=
, as
once before it had been laid in that night of sacrilege beneath the shadow =
of
the everlasting pyramid. Then I kissed her chill brow and went from the Hou=
se
of Death--avenged, but sorely smitten with despair!
"Physician," said the officer of the
Guard as I went through the gates, "what passes yonder in the Monument?
Methought I heard the sounds of death."
"Naught passes--all hath passed," I =
made
reply, and went.
And as I went in the darkness I heard the soun=
d of
voices and the running of the feet of Cæsar's messengers.
Flying swiftly to my house I found Atoua waiti=
ng
at the gates. She drew me into a quiet chamber and closed the doors.
"Is it done?" she asked, and turned =
her
wrinkled face to mine, while the lamplight streamed white upon her snowy ha=
ir.
"Nay, why ask I--I know that it is done!"
"Ay, it is done, and well done, old wife!=
All
are dead! Cleopatra, Iras, Charmion--all save myself!"
The aged woman drew up her bent form and cried:
"Now let me go in peace, for I have seen my desire upon thy foes and t=
he
foes of Khem. La! la!--not in vain have I lived on beyond the years of man!=
I
have seen my desire upon thy enemies---I have gathered the dews of Death, a=
nd
thy foe hath drunk thereof! Fallen is the brow of Pride! the Shame of Khem =
is
level with the dust! Ah, would that I might have seen that wanton die!"=
;
"Cease, woman! cease! The Dead are gather=
ed
to the Dead! Osiris holds them fast, and everlasting silence seals their li=
ps!
Pursue not the fallen great with insults! Up!--let us fly to Abouthis, that=
all
may be accomplished!"
"Fly thou, Harmachis!--Harmachis, fly--bu= t I fly not! To this end only I have lingered on the earth. Now I untie the kno= t of life and let my spirit free! Fare thee well, Prince, the pilgrimage is done! Harmachis, from a babe have I loved thee, and love thee yet!--but no more in this world may I share thy griefs--I am spent. Osiris, take thou my Spirit!" and her trembling knees gave way and she sank to the ground.<= o:p>
I ran to her side and looked upon her. She was
already dead, and I was alone upon the earth without a friend to comfort me=
!
Then I turned and went, no man hindering me, f=
or
all was confusion in the city, and departed from Alexandria in a vessel I h=
ad
made ready. On the eighth day, I landed, and, in the carrying out of my
purpose, travelled on foot across the fields to the Holy Shrine of Abouthis.
And here, as I knew, the worship of the Gods had been lately set up again in
the Temple of the Divine Sethi: for Charmion had caused Cleopatra to repent=
of
her decree of vengeance and to restore the lands that she had seized, though
the treasure she restored not. And the temple having been purified, now, at=
the
season of the Feast of Isis, all the High Priests of the ancient Temples of
Egypt were gathered together to celebrate the coming home of the Gods into
their holy place.
I gained the city. It was on the seventh day of
the Feast of Isis. Even as I came the long array wended through the
well-remembered streets. I joined in the multitude that followed, and with =
my
voice swelled the chorus of the solemn chant as we passed through the pylons
into the imperishable halls. How well known were the holy words:
"Softly we tread, our measured footsteps falling Within the Sanctuary Sevenfold; Soft on the Dead that liveth are we
calling: 'Return, Osiris, from=
thy
Kingdom cold! Return to them t=
hat
worship thee of old!'"
And then, when the sacred music ceased, as afo=
retime
on the setting of the majesty of Ra, the High Priest raised the statue of t=
he
living God and held it on high before the multitude.
With a joyful shout of
"Osiris! our hope, Osiris! Osiris!"<= o:p>
the people tore the black wrappings from their
dress, showing the white robes beneath, and, as one man, bowed before the G=
od.
Then they went to feast each at his home; but I
stayed in the court of the temple.
Presently a priest of the temple drew near, and
asked me of my business. And I answered him that I came from Alexandria, and
would be led before the council of the High Priests, for I knew that the Ho=
ly
Priests were gathered together debating the tidings from Alexandria.
Thereon the man left, and the High Priests,
hearing that I was from Alexandria, ordered that I should be led into their
presence in the Hall of Columns--and so I was led in. It was already dark, =
and
between the great pillars lights were set, as on that night when I was crow=
ned Pharaoh
of the Upper and the Lower Land. There, too, was the long line of Dignitari=
es
seated in their carven chairs, and taking counsel together. All was the sam=
e;
the same cold images of Kings and Gods gazed with the same empty eyes from =
the
everlasting walls. Ay, more; among those gathered there were five of the ve=
ry men
who, as leaders of the great plot, had sat here to see me crowned, being the
only conspirators who had escaped the vengeance of Cleopatra and the clutch=
ing
hand of Time.
I took my stand on the spot where once I had b=
een
crowned and made me ready for the last act of shame with such bitterness of
heart as cannot be written.
"Why, it is the physician Olympus," =
said
one. "He who lived a hermit in the Tombs of Tápé, and who but lately w=
as
of the household of Cleopatra. Is it, then, true that the Queen is dead by =
her
own hand, Physician?"
"Yea, holy Sirs, I am that physician; also
Cleopatra is dead by my hand."
"By thy hand? Why, how comes this?--though
well is she dead, forsooth, the wicked wanton!"
"Your pardon, Sirs, and I will tell you a=
ll,
for I am come hither to that end. Perchance among you there may be
some--methinks I see some--who, nigh eleven years ago, were gathered in this
hall to secretly crown one Harmachis, Pharaoh of Khem?"
"It is true!" they said; "but h=
ow
knowest thou these things, thou Olympus?"
"Of the rest of those seven-and-thirty
nobles," I went on, making no answer, "are two-and-thirty missing.
Some are dead, as Amenemhat is dead; some are slain, as Sepa is slain; and
some, perchance, yet labour as slaves within the mines, or live afar, feari=
ng
vengeance."
"It is so," they said: "alas! i=
t is
so. Harmachis the accursed betrayed the plot, and sold himself to the wanton
Cleopatra!"
"It is so," I went on, lifting up my
head. "Harmachis betrayed the plot and sold himself to Cleopatra; and,
holy Sirs--I am that Harmachis!"
The Priests and Dignitaries gazed astonished. =
Some
rose and spoke; some said naught.
"I am that Harmachis! I am that traitor,
trebly steeped in crime!--a traitor to my Gods, a traitor to my Country, a
traitor to my Oath! I come hither to say that I have done this. I have exec=
uted
the Divine vengeance on her who ruined me and gave Egypt to the Roman. And =
now that,
after years of toil and patient waiting, this is accomplished by my wisdom =
and
the help of the angry Gods, behold I come with all my shame upon my head to
declare the thing I am, and take the traitor's guerdon!"
"Mindest thou of the doom of him who hath
broke the oath that may not be broke?" asked he who first had spoken, =
in
heavy tones.
"I know it well," I answered; "I
court that awful doom."
"Tell us more of this matter, thou who wa=
st
Harmachis."
So, in cold clear words, I laid bare all my sh=
ame,
keeping back nothing. And ever as I spoke I saw their faces grow more hard,=
and
knew that for me there was no mercy; nor did I ask it, nor, had I asked, co=
uld
it have been granted.
When, at last, I had done, they put me aside w=
hile
they took counsel. Then they drew me forth again, and the eldest among them=
, a
man very old and venerable, the Priest of the Temple of the Divine Hatshepu=
at
Tápé, spoke, in icy accents:
"Thou Harmachis, we have considered this
matter. Thou hast sinned the threefold deadly sin. On thy head lies the bur=
den
of the woe of Khem, this day enthralled of Rome. To Isis, the Mother Myster=
y,
thou hast offered the deadly insult, and thou hast broken thy holy oath. For
all of these sins there is, as well thou knowest, but one reward, and that =
reward
is thine. Naught can it weigh in the balance of our justice that thou hast
slain her who was thy cause of stumbling; naught that thou comest to name
thyself the vilest thing who ever stood within these walls. On thee also mu=
st
fall the curse of Menkau-ra, thou false priest! thou forsworn patriot! thou
Pharaoh shameful and discrowned! Here, where we set the Double Crown upon t=
hy
head, we doom thee to the doom! Go to thy dungeon and await the falling of =
its
stroke! Go, remembering what thou mightest have been and what thou art, and=
may
those Gods who through thy evil doing shall perchance ere long cease to be
worshipped within these holy temples, give to thee that mercy which we deny!
Lead him forth!"
So they took me and led me forth. With bowed h=
ead
I went, looking not up, and yet I felt their eyes burn upon my face.
Oh! surely of all my shames this is the heavie=
st!
They led me to the prison chamber that is high=
in
the pylon tower and here I wait my doom. I know not when the sword of Fate
shall fall. Week grows to week, and month to month, and still it is delayed.
Still it quivers unseen above my head. I know that it will fall, but when I
know not. Perchance, I shall wake in some dead hour of midnight to hear the=
stealthy
steps of the slayers and be hurried forth. Perchance, they are now at hand.
Then will come the secret cell! the horror! the nameless coffin! and at las=
t it
will be done! Oh, let it come! let it come swiftly!
All is
written; I have held back nothing--my sin is sinned--my vengeance is finish=
ed.
Now all things end in darkness and in ashes, and I prepare to face the terr=
ors
that are to come in other worlds than this. I go, but not without hope I go:
for, though I see Her not, though no more She answers to my prayers, still =
I am
aware of the Holy Isis, who is with me for evermore, and whom I shall yet a=
gain
behold face to face. And then at last in that far day I shall find forgiven=
ess;
then the burden of my guilt will roll from me and innocency come back and w=
rap
me round, bringing me holy Peace.
Oh! d=
ear
land of Khem, as in a dream I see thee! I see Nation after Nation set its
standard on thy shores, and its yoke upon thy neck! I see new Religions wit=
hout
end calling out their truths upon the banks of Sihor, and summoning thy peo=
ple
to their worship! I see thy temples--thy holy temples--crumbling in the dus=
t: a
wonder to the sight of men unborn, who shall peer into thy tombs and desecr=
ate
the great ones of thy glory! I see thy mysteries a mockery to the unlearned,
and thy wisdom wasted like waters on the desert sands! I see the Roman Eagl=
es stoop
and perish, their beaks yet red with the blood of men, and the long lights
dancing down the barbarian spears that follow in their wake! And then, at l=
ast,
I see Thee once more great, once more free, and having once more a knowledg=
e of
thy Gods--ay, thy Gods with a changed countenance, and called by other name=
s,
but still thy Gods!
The s=
un
sinks over Abouthis. The red rays of Ra flame on temple roofs, upon green
fields, and the wide waters of father Sihor. So as a child I watched him si=
nk;
just so his last kiss touched the further pylon's frowning brow; just that =
same
shadow lay upon the tombs. All is unchanged! I--I only am changed--so chang=
ed,
and yet the same!
Oh,
Cleopatra! Cleopatra! thou Destroyer! if I might but tear thy vision from my
heart! Of all my griefs, this is the heaviest grief--still must I love thee!
Still must I hug this serpent to my heart! Still in my ears must ring that =
low
laugh of triumph--the murmur of the falling fountain--the song of the
nightinga----
[Here the writing on the third roll of papyrus
abruptly ends. It would almost seem that the writer was at this moment brok=
en
in upon by those who came to lead him to his doom.]