WhenI look back, dispassionately now, upon the awful moment when Hugh Tankerville so suddenly thrust himself into the political turmoil of this strange land, I quite see that he then seized, with characteristic presence of mind and boldness, the only opportunity there was of saving both our lives. Knowing the priests of Ra as I did subsequently, with their almost maniacal hatred and terror of the unknown, their dread of the stranger, whose existence, after five thousand years of isolation, the most learned amongst them only dimly guessed, I feel convinced that, had Hugh then not assumed the daringrôle, which he kept up afterwards with such marvellous histrionic powers, our lives would, at that moment, not have been worth two minutes’ purchase. But at the time I was literally staggered by the sublime insolence of his proceeding. To have hoodwinked a dying maniac in the wilderness was one thing, but to think of leading an entire population—of the size of which we had not the faintest conception—by the nose, including the somewhat aggressive feminine ruler thereof and a host of priests, was quite another matter.
Breathlessly I waited when Hugh had formulated his modest request. The high priest, with one trembling hand still holding back the gossamer veil, was staring at the intruder with great, wondering eyes, while in the Queen’s face a look of superstitious dread and one of slowly-awakening hope struggled for mastery. The Pharaoh’s thin sallow face was inscrutable as a waxen image. He, too, stared at Hugh for a moment, then presently he yawned audibly, as if the advent of any celestial emissary was a matter of complete indifference to him, and turned to the more congenial companionship of his bald-faced chattering apes.
A few minutes—an eternity I thought them then—elapsed in this breathless silence, while to my excited fancy it seemed as if I could hear the beating of my own heart; then Hugh, beckoning to me to follow him, walked down the metal steps and stood at the foot of the sanctuary, framed in by the clouds of the gossamer veil, himself the most impressive thing in this strangely impressive place. His great height, his fine erect carriage, his air of indomitable will and masterfulness, his handsome head, rendered almost spiritual-looking by the long fast and enforced asceticism, seemed all to tower over this land, which was still unknown to him, and over its few awestruck representatives.
He took no heed of the priest, but looked straight at the woman, throwing into his gaze that strange, almost mystic attraction which I myself had so often felt. After a while we heard like a soft sigh, an appealing whisper, a woman’s voice repeating:
“Who art thou?”
“The wandering soul of Khefren, come back to Kamt to claim his own again.”
“Khefren?”
“Far out, oh, Queen, beyond the valley of death, where flows the sacred river, by whose shores thy ancestors were born and were great, Khefren left a record of his glory and his might, and to-day, after five thousand times the seasons of the year have been and have gone again, Osiris sent his soul back into my body that I, too, might bring glory and might to the beloved land.”
“And this?” she asked, pointing to where I, puzzled, amused and humble, stood waiting to know what my share in this wonderful drama was to be.
“He is my second self,” said Hugh, “placed by my side by Ra himself, to love, to counsel and to protect.”
The Queen raised herself from her litter, and placing her tiny sandalled feet upon the marble floor she walked slowly but unhesitatingly towards Hugh. She certainly was exceedingly beautiful, tall above the average, with queenly bearing, magnificent eyes, and rich, voluptuous figure: but somehow, as she walked, with the shimmering folds of her black gown clinging tightly round her, she reminded me of the two grim guardians at the gates of Kamt, up there beyond the granite halls, and I did not envy Hugh his luck. Immediately in front of us stood the sacrificial altar, on which the lamb had been offered up to Ra with such astonishing results, and on it was the casket with which the Queen had tried to win over the high priest to her views. She skirted the altar, and coming close to Hugh, she knelt down at his feet, and looking up at him, she said:
“The will of Ra be accomplished upon thy servant;” and she added, turning to the high priest: “The sacrifice thou hast offered for me to the gods has brought me peace and happiness. Command the slaves of the temple to bring forth the oxen, laden with the gifts which I, in my gratitude, do offer thee.”
It was impossible to conjecture what the thoughts of the solemn and learned Ur-tasen were during this brief scene. Superstition struggled vigorously with reason beneath that shaven crown of his; greed too, I thought, played an important part in the workings of his conscience. He certainly was more than puzzled as to how we had got into the inner sanctuary, while our fair skins obviously disclaimed any idea that we were natives of his own country. How much he knew of the existence of a great world beyond the wilderness and outside the gates of Kamt, I only found out afterwards; for the moment superstition, after a brief struggle, obtained the upper hand, and after a few seconds of terribly anxious suspense, I saw that the high priest of Ra was prepared, at any rate outwardly, to accept the stranger as the emissary of the gods, which he had proclaimed himself to be. Silently he dropped the gossamer curtain, which closed in with a soft rustle behind us, making a shimmering background for Hugh’s tall figure, with the beautiful woman kneeling at his feet.
Then Ur-tasen walked up to the middle of the temple, where on a tall pedestal there stood a gigantic gong: he took the mighty clapper, and with vigorous arm thrice struck the metal, till the sound went echoing in deafening clamour, like continued claps of thunder, through the vastness of the building. And, as he struck, from everywhere doors were opened, and curtains pushed aside, letting in floods of light into the gloom. The shorn priests, in their robes, and those with marks of beasts, returned, followed by the blind priestesses, who chanted in monotonous tones their invocation to the god. And from everywhere crowds of people poured in, men and women, tall and slenderly built, with dark, almond-shaped eyes, and warm olive complexions. They filed in, in hundreds and thousands, some in gorgeous garments, others with but a loin-cloth round their waists, rich and poor, evidently, humble and mighty, but all stood still as they caught sight of Hugh at the foot of the altar of their god, standing erect, while their Queen knelt humbly at his feet.
Then the high priest, who was on the left of the altar surrounded by his priests, began to speak in loud and solemn tones:
“Oh, people of Kamt, ye specially citizens of Men-ne-fer, behold the great and glorious mysteries of Ra! Lo! Osiris has given you the great privilege of being the first to set eyes on him who is beloved of the gods! The Most High has not willed that the great house of Memmoun-ra be erased from the face of the earth, and from the foot of his throne Osiris has sent us his well-beloved. Khefren, who ruled over the land when the sacred river, of which your forefathers spoke, flowed from the north to the south, hath come back from the regions where dwelleth Anubis, to sit upon the throne of Kamt once more. It is the will of Osiris, of Ra himself, transmitted to you by my mouth, that you should honour and obey his beloved as you would himself. People of Kamt, behold your future king!”
The blind priestesses intoned a sort of triumphal hymn. The people had prostrated themselves face downwards and kissed the granite floor. I looked across to where, in the midst of rose-tinted draperies, the sick Pharaoh leaned back against the cushions toying with his two bald-faced apes. Then, once again in this region of dreamland, among these people who had seemed so strangely unreal, I saw that I had before me a bit of genuine human nature. On the pale face of the invalid, as he looked up at Hugh from under his heavy lids, a look of absolutely deadly hatred and of contempt appeared. He had seemingly taken not the slightest notice or interest in the proceedings, since the first moment of astonishment when we arrived upon the scene; he seemed entirely engrossed in the difficult task of slipping a diamond ring over the foot of one of the little apes. The look had been momentary, and no one, I think, saw it but I. The next instant he had again yawned audibly and laughed his wonted sarcastic, dry laugh, as the ugly little beast bit him savagely in the hand.
A complicated and solemn ritual ensued, with much chanting and beating of the sistrum and drum. The people, I could see, looked at Hugh and at my humble self with the same superstitious reverence and awe with which the Queen had accepted our mystical appearance. I wondered what passed in the high priest’s mind. The ten oxen, laden with emeralds, pigeons and other treasures, had evidently outwardly silenced his doubts, for, at a given moment, he and all his priests knelt at Hugh’s feet and in turn kissed the ground immediately in front of him. Then two priests led a sweet little lion cub by a chain and put it upon the altar, and to my horror I saw the high priest place a large dagger-like knife into Hugh’s hand. Poor old Hugh! When he was a boy he could not bear to see me crush a beetle, and obviously, in virtue of his self-assumedrôle, he was expected to murder that pretty little creature which, playful as a kitten, was running round after its own tail, in the very middle of the sacred altar. I saw he had become very white, and that the sick youth opposite him was viewing him with a malicious and sarcastic look, while the high priest and all the people waited. It was a very palpitating moment, for I was terrified lest Hugh, who must have been very weak for want of food and the strain of the excitement of the past few hours, should faint ignominiously at the very foot of the throne of the god whose beloved he was. What would ensue was pretty evident. The “casting-out” process of the two defrauding evil-doers would be swift and sure.
“Shut your eyes, Girlie, it must be done,” I whispered.
And Hugh did shut his eyes and pulled himself together with an almost superhuman effort. I followed him to the altar, and held the little creature for him, ready to guide the knife, so that death might be instantaneous. But though he was as pale as death, Hugh’s hand was quite firm; only when the blood flowed freely from the cub’s throat on to his hand, he tottered and his lips became livid. Fortunately I was near him, and imperceptibly was able to support him, while everyone was engrossed in listening to the solemn invocation, or rather commands, which the high priest spoke over the accomplished sacrifice.
“People of Kamt, in the name of Osiris I enjoin you to reverence his beloved!
“In the name of Isis, the goddess whose image illumines the nights of Kamt, and makes them beautiful above all, I enjoin you to look upon him as your future lord and king!
“And in the name of Ra, the great and awesome mystery, who buildeth up every throne and maketh every empire, I enjoin you to swear fealty to him, to his children and to his children’s children as the ages roll away!”
Then he raised his hands aloft and pronounced a solemn blessing over the assembled multitude.
“May the blessing of Ra rest upon your heads!
“May Osiris make your land fruitful and rich!
“May Isis give you grace and wisdom, and to your daughters beauty above all the children of men!
“And at your death may Horus intercede for you before the awesome judgment seat of the forty-two judges!
“Whilst the hand of Anubis guides your souls to eternal rest and peace!”
The blind priestesses swung their golden censers towards us, and very soon Hugh stood enveloped in a sweet-scented cloud, through which his tall figure appeared swathed in the white drapery, and dimly lighted from behind by the sanctuary lamps, which threw flickering blue rays round his head, like some ghostly halo.
After a few moments of absolute silence in the vast and crowded building, the Queen rose to her feet and said to Hugh:
“Will my lord honour the dwelling of his servant by his presence?”
And she led him to her litter, where she invited him to sit beside her. I followed and stood close to Hugh, for he had contrived to whisper, as he brushed past me:
“Keep near me, old chap. Don’t let them divide us whatever happens!”
The eight black giants had already raised the Pharaoh’s litter aloft, and he was being borne away among a crowd of prostrate figures, across the vast aisle of the temple. He took no notice, however, of his adoring subjects; contemptuously he passed them by, and as his litter disappeared through the wide portals beyond, I could still hear his audible yawns and his loud, sharp, sarcastic laugh.
The Queen and Hugh were also hoisted upon the shoulders of the bearers, and I was allowed to walk by his side, while a crowd of gorgeous personages, with wands of office, of attendants and of slaves, closed in behind us and followed in solemn procession.
If the picture of the temple of Ra, with its antechamber of black granite, its mysterious vastness, its blind priestesses and solemn priests, had been impressive and majestic, certainly that which lay before us, as we emerged through the open portals, was radiant and bright and beautiful above all: the air was sweet and balmy as an English June, and filled with the penetrating and pungent odour of thousands of mimosa trees and acacia blossoms, and with the sounds of innumerable songs from myriads of bird throats. The sky was cloudless and blue, and from the top of the gigantic marble steps where we stood we could see the city nestling at the foot of the range of frowning hills which divided it from the arid desert waste. The houses were tall and square, with flat roofs supported on massive columns, which glittered with quaint arabesques and devices in tones of exquisite enamel, and between them, forming the streets, broad canals were cut, the waters of which, clear and blue, scintillated as with myriads of gems; on the canals innumerable boats, with tall prow and poop high above the water’s edge, in shape like a crescent moon, flitted busily along. Some were laden with piles of orange and scarlet fruit, and mountains of flowers, all of which threw vivid patches of colour on the canvas as they glided swiftly by. The granite of the houses was a soft-toned pink, and over some of the ponderous gateways huge carvings, covered with enamel, towered between clumps of date palms and acacia trees; and far ahead before us, sharply outlined against the dome of the sky, there rose, awesome, mysterious, majestic, the great and wonderful pyramids, the tombs of the kings of Egypt.
Ay! the picture was truly gorgeous, a realisation of all the beauties, the art, the colours of which scientists tell us, in words which, as I recalled them then, seemed hollow and tame. A picture such as dear old Mr. Tankerville alone knew how to paint before our delighted schoolboy eyes, when he spoke of the temples of Khefren, the sphinxes of Kheops, of the mysterious Neit-akrit, and the beautiful land over which a pall of oblivion had lain for so long. Here it was new and fresh, alive as ever, and we two prosy Britishers were here to enjoy its beauties. The crescent-shaped boats, with bright-coloured sails, the naked boatmen, whose skins shone beneath the sun like pieces of yellow marble, their scarlet tight-fitting caps, their metal collars, the life, the movement, the beauty, the colour, intoxicated me and made me feel as if this were, at last, life and beauty indeed.
I looked at Hugh: he had thrown back his head, and, raised on his elbow, was looking out upon the land he had so daringly decided to rule and which he found so fair. As for the Queen, there was in the midst of all this beauty, this gorgeousness, but one sight which to her eyes was worth the seeing, and which gave a singular softness to her fine voluptuous face, and that was the sight of the mystic stranger who had demanded to share her throne with her, the envoy of Osiris and of Ra, the beloved of the gods.
The invalid Pharaoh had been taken onto one of the boats, and was already being rowed along the canal, followed by his gorgeous retinue; the Queen’s litter had also stopped at the foot of the temple steps, and Hugh helped her to alight and to step into her own boat. She seemed very unwilling to part from him, and prolonged her “sweet sorrow” with many whisperings, which my imperfect knowledge of the language prevented me from catching. At last she waved us a last adieu, the eight oarsmen dropped their sculls into the water, and with slow and rhythmic movement the royal craft, draped in the Queen’s favourite black hangings, and glittering with ornaments of gold, disappeared down the canal, and I at last was, comparatively speaking, alone with Hugh.
A boat was evidently waiting for us, for, prostrate on the ground, eight swarthy-looking men seemed to be waiting for us and to be requesting us to step into it, which we did. From the temple the stream of people had poured out, and stood in dense and picturesque masses on the tall steps, watching from a respectful distance every movement of the beloved of the gods.
“Perhaps you will tell me, old man, how all this is going to end,” I remarked as soon as we, in our turn, were being rowed down the canal some half a dozen lengths behind the Queen’s boat, and I felt that, at last, I was alone with Hugh.
He turned round to me, and the sunniest of smiles drove all the solemnity from his face.
“I don’t know, old chap, and I don’t care,” he said with a merry laugh. “Tell me if this isn’t the most glorious, the most beautiful thing mortal man can conceive?”
“It certainly is the most magnificent picture I have ever set eyes on, Girlie; but tell me what on earth you propose to do.”
“Do? old chap!” he said, in his quiet, convinced way. “Why! rule over this gorgeous country, with you as my prime minister.”
“I know your wants are modest, old man,” I laughed, “but I should like to know how you propose to accomplish this laudable object, and whether the fund of deception from which you drew the wondrous history of your origin is inexhaustible, for you will need plenty of it.”
“That was a capital idea of mine, now, wasn’t it, old fellow? Another moment and we were bound to be found out, and you can guess as well as I what would have been the summary proceeding by which we should have made our forcible exit from this beautiful land.”
“It was a bold stroke, Girlie; worthy of you. But I want to know where it will all lead to.”
“To the most glorious discoveries the world of antiquity has ever dreamed of,” he replied enthusiastically, his eyes literally glowing with buoyancy of spirit. “Discoveries of which my dear father used to dream, over which he broke his heart when he realised that they would be made by other eyes, other hands than his. I mean to rule over these people, Mark, study them, know them, love them, conquer them; then, having learned all their secrets, go back to England and set the world gaping with the treasures which I shall place before its wondering eyes.”
“Go back to England, Girlie,” I said with a laugh; “that sounds feasible, doesn’t it? You forget that Hammersmith lies some considerable distance from this picturesque Elysium, that the last ’bus to the Broadway has gone, and the tramway service is interrupted for the present. There is only one exit from this fairyland, and that is the one through which malefactors are cast out, without food or water, into the desert wilderness; unless you propose to cross those hills over there in a balloon.”
“Propose? I propose nothing at present, old Mark, but to enjoy ourselves to our hearts’ content. I as king-regent of this land, and you as my guide, philosopher, etc. After that—presently—a long time ahead, I hope, when you and I are tired of this place, and are ready to let the world know some of these wondrous secrets, then…”
“Yes? then?” I said, for he had paused a while, letting his gaze roam over the distant pyramids far away.
“Oh, well, then, old chap,” he said with his sublime self-reliance, “then something will happen, I am sure—something wonderful—stupendous—I don’t yet know what. The upheaval of those rocks, perhaps—a general chaos somewhere—to allowmeto pass. What does it matter? Is not the present glorious enough that you want already to think of a future?”
How could I help admiring him, with his grand belief in himself and all the world, his enthusiasm, his faith, ready to kick aside a mountain if it happened to stand in his way, his set purpose, which defied alike earth and sky, atmosphere, sun and universe?
“In any case,” I said with a smile, “the present for you has one additional charm: you are already provided with a very beautiful bride.”
“Yes, she is beautiful,” he said quietly, “though I should say she was somewhat unpleasant at times.”
“A genuine Cleopatra, Girlie; in looks at any rate.”
“And probably in character. Think of it, Mark! Cleopatra alive to-day! The Cleopatra we all read of, all fell in love with, when we were in our teens, actually alive! and the Pharaoh, Kheops! Khefren! Mena himself! and these people still building to-day tombs which rival the pyramids of Ghizeh, and carve sphinxes and mammoth gods beside which the figures at Abu-Simnel are mere students’ work!”
“And think of a real Pharaoh, Girlie, who is a real direct enemy.”
Hugh frowned a little, then he laughed.
“Yes; he is no friend. He was the only one who did not believe the story of my interesting origin.”
“He may be scientifically inclined, or perhaps his illness has made him more sharp-witted than his fellow-men. I wonder what the high priest thought of it all?”
“It is difficult to say. We shall find it out by-and-by; but in any case he has burned his boats, since he solemnly declared at the foot of his own god, to a very large crowd of people, that I was indeed the envoy and beloved of the gods. He cannot go back on that now without proclaiming himself a liar.”
“I wonder what his position is in the government of the country?”
“Paramount, I should say. If you remember he practically forbade Queen Maat-kha to wed one of her own subjects, and she was quite prepared to obey, when I, the beloved of Osiris, appeared upon the scene.”
His eyes twinkled with the humour of the situation, and he added:
“What do you think Aunt Charlotte would say, old Mark, if she saw you in your new character as a defunct Egyptian come to life again, to gladden the hearts of the great people of Kamt? How do you feel, eh?”
“About the same as you do, Girlie, in your character of usurper of some one else’s property. Now you can’t get away from the fact that by your assumption of a semi-divinerôleyou have helped to defraud a lady of her just rights, and she, to judge from the enthusiastic eulogies of that old rip, the high priest, is young and beautiful.”
“And moreover is called Neit-akrit,” added Hugh, musingly, “a name which to you and me is associated with the most cherished memories of childhood, with the dear old Chestnuts, the museum, where the shade of the mysterious queen used to wander before our excited fancy, conjured into life by the picturesque story told by my father, and rendered glowing by the fitful light of the great log fire as it flickered on the old-fashioned hearth. Perhaps, after all, old Mark, this is all a dream; you and I are not really here, and presently I for one shall wake up and find myself sitting beside that hearth, trying to decipher by those dying embers the last few lines of a sneering article vilifying the memory of mad Tankerville and his hobby.”
We had left the temple of Ra far behind us now, and our boat, as Hugh was talking, turned into a wider canal, on each side of which the houses were more imposing, more luxurious than heretofore. Beneath the peristyles of massive columns, and in the gateways, we caught sight of groups of people, richly dressed, who followed our boat with eager gaze as it glided swiftly by. Evidently the great and mystic news had spread throughout the city, and in the houses of rich and poor alike all were anxious to be among the first to set eyes on the emissary of Ra.
We passed an island which was evidently a market-place, for gigantic piles of pomegranates, melons and dates stood everywhere, together with mountains of golden mimosa, snow-white acacia, spotted orange and flame-coloured lilies and pink aloes, behind which sat enthroned women in gay draperies, and striped kerchiefs floating over their dark hair; while between this wealth of fruit and blossom busy figures flitted to and fro. But at sight of the royal boats pomegranates and dates, aloes and palms were abandoned and an excited throng rushed to the water’s edge. Presently one little maiden, more venturesome than her elders, took up a bunch of mimosa, and, with wonderful dexterity, flung it with all her might towards our boat, where it alighted right on Hugh’s shoulder, deluging us both with a sweet-scented shower of golden dust. Then a loud shout of delight rent the air, and in a moment we, the boat and the boatmen, nearly came to grief beneath a veritable avalanche of blossoms—lotus flowers and honeysuckle, branches of papyrus and bouquets of iris, penetrating tuberoses and sprays of orange blossom—till we had much to do to keep up a dignified appearance under this persistent and uncomfortable shower.
“No doubt, Girlie, that this is no dream,” I said as soon as we had left the enthusiastic market-square behind, “and no doubt that you won’t find it difficult to exact veneration and obedience from these excitable people. They look upon you already as one of their deity.”
“They fascinate me, Mark. They are so intensely picturesque. But it strikes me there is a terrible vein of cold-blooded cruelty in those that rule them.”
“Perfect monsters, I should say, remembering the awful doom they mete out to criminals.”
“I am going to try my hand at that amount of civilisation, anyhow. Civilising!” he added, with a laugh. “A strange word indeed to use in connection with people who build such cities and carve such temples. But they have yet one thing to learn.”
“Christianity?” I said. “You are bold.”
“Christianity?—No, old chap, you and I are not cut out for missionary work. I suppose there is a something wanting in our education for that, something out of tune—perhaps our sense of humour—but we can pave the way for worthier men than we are, whose prosy minds will be above the petty scruples which I confess would stay my hand from destroying these pagan yet gorgeous temples, these false, yet oh! such picturesque deities. Then, presently, when the world, guided by us, will have revelled long enough in the picturesqueness of this great and unknown land, the Western nations can begin their endless fight as to who shall best desecrate it.”
There was no time to prolong our chat, for the boat was slowing towards an island which lay in the middle of the stream. On it, amidst shady groves of giant fuchsias and drooping clematis, we saw glistening the gilt and copper roofs of a vast palace, half-hidden in the bower of many-coloured blooms. Gradually, as we approached, we saw its noble proportions, its walls and columns of alabaster-like marble, covered with arabesques and tracings of several tones of gold. It stood close to the water’s edge, above a flight of marble steps, up and down which there stalked in stately majesty a number of pink flamingoes. In the branches of acacias and palms many apes chattered shrilly, and beneath the shadows of overhanging leaves we caught sight of a herd of snow-white cows with tall slender horns. A crowd of tiny girls, in turquoise-blue dresses, lined the long flight of steps, and as the Queen’s boat was moored below, they all began to sing a sweet-sounding greeting.
“It seems that we are to be the royal lady’s guests,” I remarked as our boat also drew to the side. “I don’t know what you feel, old Girlie, but I, for my part, am ready to collapse if I don’t get some food within the next hour.”
As soon as we had landed the Queen came up to Hugh and said some pretty words of welcome to him; then, at last, she deigned to take notice of me.
“Wilt thou accompany my lord beneath the humble roof which he will honour with his presence?” she asked.
Now I felt that in reply to this invitation it would have been ill-mannered to nod, and again, at that moment, I could not for the life of me recollect a single word of my Egyptian vocabulary. Innate British shyness, when placed face to face with foreign modes of speech, had completely paralysed my tongue and my memory, and all I could do to save appearances was to bow silently and somewhat clumsily before the lady.
“Is thy counsellor dumb?” she asked, turning to Hugh with astonishment.
“He speaks but seldom,” he replied with characteristic presence of mind—impudence I called it, “for his words are pearls of wisdom, treasures given to him by Horus, the most learned, and as such most precious.”
She seemed satisfied, for she smiled very sweetly at me as we all began to mount the steps to the palace, but she did not address her words directly to me afterwards.
In the inner hall of her palace she parted from us, but not before she had placed herself and her house, her advisers, ministers and slaves unreservedly at Hugh’s command. One portion of the palace was evidently to be given over exclusively for us. A gorgeous personage, carrying a wand of office and wearing a belt emblazoned with writing, led us through many rooms, at the threshold of each of which he solemnly knelt down in front of Hugh, and kissing the ground before him, bade him welcome. Not the least attractive among the grand halls we traversed was one in which the marble floor was sunk some six feet below the level and the basin filled with sweet-smelling, slightly-steaming water. It suggested the most delicious vision of a swimming-bath my excited fancy could conceive, and only the sense of my dignity, as chief counsellor of the gods, prevented my giving way to the overwhelming temptation of then and there plunging into that inviting basin. However, the gorgeous official having welcomed us a few times more, and shown us our sleeping-apartments, which led one into the other, where he salaamed again, until I was ready to kick him out of our godly presence, we were at last left in the hands of some dark-complexioned attendants, face to face with the sweet-smelling, steaming water!—and the rest is silence! save for the splash and the groans of content—silence and infinite bliss!
Then, afterwards, arrayed in wonderful garments, which seemed to have dropped down from heaven, and the fit of which was apparently of no consequence, for they consisted mostly of cloaks, we were solemnly led to another earthly paradise. In the centre of one of the halls, where a number of solemn personages welcomed us in various fantastic ways, there stood a low table covered with everything that could delight nostril and palate of two starving creatures whose last meal, partaken of some eight hours ago, had consisted of a piece of raw vulture’s leg. Great baskets of fruit and olives, bread and cakes of different kinds, and above all, occupying the centre of the table—a happiness to the eye, a joy to the heart—a gigantic roast goose, with brown, crisp skin, and a delicious odour of aromatic, sweet herb stuffing.
And didn’t we enjoy that goose, in spite of the fact that we had to carve it with blunt bronze knives, and to convey the pieces to our mouths with a spoon? I should not like to have to state how much of it there was left by the time we really considered that we had finished with it. The gorgeous personages had fortunately most discreetly retired when we began our repast, and our attendants consisted of the sweetest little army of dark-eyed waitresses I personally have ever known to hand sauces and fruits. They were very picturesquely but, I blush to say, very scantily attired in a collar of leather studded with turquoise, and a deep blue kerchief held round their tiny heads with a circlet of dull metal; but I am bound to confess that this unconventional uniform by no means took away our appetites—even, I thought that it added a very special, piquant flavouring to that roast goose—and when the pretty maidens poured the wine into our cups, out of great stone jars, I thought that never had juice of grape tasted half so sweet.
Thenext day only exists in my mind as a memory of one long and gorgeous pageant: triumphal processions through the city, shouts of enthusiastic people, messengers sent flying in every direction throughout the land, to announce the great news to the inhabitants of its most outlying corners, with a promise to some of the more important cities that they should soon in their turn be gladdened by the sight of the beloved of Ra, the son of Osiris, the messenger of the Most High. It was a wearying day to us both, who, occupying a comparatively humble position in our own country, were unaccustomed to the pomp and glitter of courts, and to the worship and salaaming of innumerable picturesque people. I, for one, found my long flowing robes very difficult to manage, and my belt of lapis-lazuli, on which were engraved sundry characters denoting my dignity, exceedingly uncomfortable. Hugh seemed to take a keen delight in wilfully upsetting my gravity at the most solemn moments by making irreverent remarks about the elderly dignitaries, who looked for all the world like mummies out of the British Museum escaped from their glass cases.
In the precincts of the temple of Osiris, raised aloft upon a golden throne, Hugh Tankerville received the homage of the nobles of the land, the functionaries, the priests, the scribes and servants of the court. The “mob,” as the traders and agriculturists were contemptuously called by the more elevated personages, were not admitted to this impressive function. They, however, showed their reverence for the emissary of the gods by making a carpet of themselves on the temple steps, the terraces and embankments, on which the beloved of the gods and his wise counsellor were expected to tread. (A process which I, for one, found exceedingly uncomfortable, especially when I had to tread on the daintier portions of this novel carpet; the dark eyes which then peered up at me in half-awed, half-inquisitive fashion were very disconcerting.)
Truly reverential and adoring! Good old Hugh! It amused him, I know, for I could see his eyes twinkling in merriment, but his gravity was unshakable and his dignity superb. The Pharaoh did not appear at these solemn processions—perhaps he felt that his own importance was being put in the shade—but Queen Maat-kha never left Hugh’s side throughout that long day. I could not of course hear the sweet whisperings with which she helped to beguile the gorgeous monotony of the festivals, but when I had an opportunity of watching Hugh closely, I could not detect the faintest sign of enthusiasm on his part in response to her blandishments.
There was an official banquet in the latter part of the afternoon, at which the Pharaoh, sarcastic, ailing and silent, presided. I looked at him as often as I could during the interminable repast, beginning to guess the nature of the disease from which he was suffering, and wondering what physicians there were in this strange land to alleviate his pains and give him relief. He contemptuously ignored the obsequious greetings of his entourage, as each in their turn, having entered the banqueting-hall, knelt down before him and kissed the ground. He seemed to have but one interest in life, and that was in his two apes, which never left his side, and which appeared to cause him endless delight. My still imperfect knowledge of the language prevented me from venturing on an animated conversation with my neighbour, a pompous, abnormally fat old man, who reeked of aromatic pomades, and was fed from a spoon by a young girl, who tasted of every morsel before handing it to him. Hugh sat next to me on the other side, and in one of the few intervals of rest which his interesting bride granted him we contrived to exchange a few words together.
By this time I had got very tired of my robes and my lapis-lazuli belt. I longed for a clean shirt, a stiff collar, anything firm about my body, in place of all the flapping, swathing garments which always got in my way whenever I tried to cross my legs. Now I always had a habit of tilting my chair back and crossing my legs in good, honest, insular manner, and I had not yet realised that, in a sort of Roman toga and petticoats, this attitude was far from elegant; and when in addition to this I vainly groped for my trousers pockets in which to bury my hands, like the true-born Englishman I was, and found that not only I had no pockets but also no… well! I said “Damn!” loudly and emphatically.
No sooner was this useful and impressive portion of the English language out of my mouth than I perceived that in the vast hall a deathlike silence had succeeded the noise of talk and laughter, and three hundred pairs of ears were straining to catch the strange word I had uttered, while the Pharaoh’s keen dark eyes were fixed mockingly upon me.
But it certainly would take a great deal more than just one good British “Damn!” spoken in an inopportune moment, to ruffle Hugh Tankerville’s supreme dignity and composure.
“Ye know not the secrets of the tongue which Osiris teacheth his beloved to speak,” he said with perfect impudence, “and my counsellor and I speak many words which it is not meet ye people of Kamt shall hear, unless indeed the gods do grant you leave. Only those who lead a just and blameless life, who pardon their enemies and relieve the oppressed, can hope to understand the veiled mysteries of Osiris’s tongue.”
I tried not to smile. I tried to imitate Hugh’s dignity, and in a measure I succeeded; but the idea that the true understanding of a British swear-word could only be the reward of virtue nearly upset my utmost endeavours at gravity.
Respectful silence had greeted the wonderful announcement, and three hundred pairs of eyes gazed with awed superstition at the expounder thereof. Only from the head of the table there came a low and sarcastic chuckle. Hugh affected not to notice it, and did not even glance towards the mighty Pharaoh, but from that moment I had a strong suspicion that, however ignorant on the subject of the outer world the people of Kamt might be, their ruler at any rate had but little belief in our divine origin.
What his attitude in the future towards us might be, it was impossible to guess; but weak and ill as he was, he evidently for the present had no intention of breaking into open enmity against the beloved of the gods, who was also the idol of his people.
However, after this little episode, Hugh and I tacitly decided that it would be best only to speak English when we were alone.
The shades of evening were beginning to draw in when at last we all rose from the table. Queen Maat-kha led us into the gardens, while the guests followed or still loitered round the tables, drinking wine or nibbling honey cakes. The Pharaoh’s litter had disappeared beyond the alleys, and I for one felt much relieved by his absence.
“The evening is young yet, oh, my beloved,” said the Queen, clinging affectionately to Hugh. “Isis hath not yet risen beyond the hills, and the hour is still far when thou must leave me to preside over the court of judgment at Kamt. Wilt stay with me alone and try to find, in that mysterious language which Osiris hath taught thee, words which would convey to me the thought that thou dost think me fair?”
“Fair above all, my Queen,” said Hugh, earnestly.
“Yet thou knowest not how much fairer I will be the day when thou standest by my side at the foot of the throne of Isis, in Tanis, when clouds of incense hover round us, hiding us from the gaping multitude, and the high priest raises his hand over our heads to give us a supreme benediction.”
“Thou couldst not be fairer than thou art,” he said, with a certain want of conviction, which no doubt the lady perceived, for she said a little sadly:
“How silent thou art, oh, my beloved! Already, perchance, the destinies of Kamt sit heavily upon thy shoulders. The Pharaoh is sick, he has no will save for rest and peace, and his enemies have become powerful in the land.”
“The ruler of Kamt should have no enemies, oh, Queen! for his rule should be merciful and just; justice disarmeth an enemy’s hand.”
“Nay, but there are the jealous, the envious,” she said, with the sweetest of smiles, “those who stand so near to the Pharaoh that with a touch of the hand they might easily reach the crown which sits so lightly upon his head.”
“My place, oh, Queen, will be beside the Pharaoh, to protect his crown from the hands of the jealous and the envious!”
“Ay! I know! and thy protection is great, oh, beloved of the gods! But is it not meet,” she added pensively, “that some one who is near and dear to him should pray to the gods night and day, that their continued blessing may rest upon his head?”
I was beginning to wonder why Queen Maat-kha was suddenly showing such unwonted solicitude for her son; her sweet manners, her fascinations exercised to the full, led me to think that she was playing some hidden game. From the first, the fascinating, exotic queen had deeply interested me. I was always a keen observer and earnest student of human nature, and the one or two incidents in which Maat-kha had been the central figure had already shown me that, in spite of the many thousands of miles that lay between them, in spite of barriers of desert waste and inaccessible heights, this radiant product of an ancient civilisation and her Western twentieth-century sister had the same feminine, capricious, un-understandable heart.
That she was even at this moment playing some little game of her own there could be no doubt; that there was some little feminine cruelty hidden behind her solicitude for her son was clearly shown by her almond-shaped eyes, which had gradually narrowed until they were merely two glittering slits, that again brought back to my mind the two grim guardians of the gates of Kamt.
The same thought had evidently struck Hugh, for he said, with a smile:
“Art already tired of thy future lord, oh, my Queen, that thou turnest thy thoughts to daily and nightly prayers?”
“I?” she said, astonished. “Nay, I was not thinking of myself. There is truly no one more near or dear to the Pharaoh than his mother, but my mission is greater and more important in the land than that I should spend my days and nights in prayer. Nay! there are others.”
“I do not understand.”
“Is it not meet,” she said, speaking rapidly and eagerly, “that one who, besides being kith and kin to the holy Pharaoh, is also young and pure—a maiden—beloved of Isis—should devote that young and still blameless life to the service of the Most High? Her prayers, like the fragrance of the spotted lily, would rise heavenwards, pure and undefiled by thoughts or memories of the past. Thou, who has dwelt among the gods, thou knowest that Ra loveth the songs and worship of a maid. His priestesses are indeed privileged, for they can sing to him at all times, praise and worship him, and he always grants their prayers.”
“Privileged dost thou say? Hast forgotten, oh, Queen! that some cruel and godless decree of this land doth deprive the priestesses of Ra of his most precious gift?”
“What is eyesight beside the purity of the soul? The maids of Kamt vie with each other for the privilege of being among the chosen priestesses of Ra, who, alone among all women, kneel within the inner sanctuary of the god. And now when the Pharaoh is sick, when he hath most need of prayers, there is not one maid of the house of Memmoun-ra who mingles her song with their song, who kneels with them, entreating at the foot of the throne of the Most High.”
“Young girls of the royal house, no doubt, have no desire for such a sacrifice.”
“Girls are thoughtless and selfish,” she said sweetly; “it is for the older and the wise to counsel them.”
“Dost propose then to counsel one of thy young kinswomen to give up her life, and what is dearer than life, for the sake of praying for thy sick son?” asked Hugh, who, I think, as well as I, was beginning to perceive the subtle game his bride was playing.
“I cannot counsel, I am but a woman, and the Pharaoh’s kinswoman is wilful and proud,” she said with a sweet smile.
“The Pharaoh’s kinswoman? Art speaking ofoneyoung maiden then?”
“What other being is there in this fair land more worthy of the honour to be priestess of Ra than my sister’s child, the Princess Neit-akrit? I cannot counsel her, for, alas! she hath hatred for me, but thou, oh, son of Ra! canst give her the message which emanates from the god himself. Thou canst command, and she will not disobey. Then, when shut off from all temptations, all turmoil and strife of this world, she will soon forget that she was once young and fair, and killed the souls of men by her wiles and her beauty; then she will bless thee for that command, and cherish thy name in her heart as she would a god’s.”
So that was the hidden game Queen Maat-kha was playing. She was madly, barbarously jealous of her young kinswoman, and in that passionate, exotic nature love and hate were absolute, simple and paramount.
She had fallen a ready prey to Hugh’s mystic personality; his handsome presence, his supposed supernatural origin had invested him with a halo of romance. But she knew that Princess Neit-akrit was young and beautiful, she scented a probable rival, and being a woman, a simple, ardent, semi-barbaric creature of flesh and blood, her instinct was to render that rival helpless, before it was too late.
That her suggestion was cruel and abominable goes without saying; that it would have no effect upon Hugh I felt, of course, quite sure; he turned to her and said, with quiet sarcasm:
“Dost hate thy young kinswoman so deeply, then, that thou dost ask me to formulate so monstrous a command?”
But like a cat who has shown her claws before she is ready to spring, and hides them again under the velvety paw, Queen Maat-kha said, with the sweetest of smiles and a look of childish astonishment:
“Thou makest a mock of thy servant, oh, my beloved! Thy words are but a jest, I know. I hate no one, least of all my sister’s child.”
“Dost fear her then?”
“Not as long as thou art near me,” she said, throwing, with sudden impulse, a pair of very beautiful arms round Hugh’s neck. “Wilt tell me that thou dost love me?”
“I claimed thee as my bride before the throne of Ra,” he answered quietly.
“Wilt prove thy love for me?”
“It needs no other proof.”
“Wilt bind thyself to grant me a request?”
“Command, oh, queen; I will obey if the gods allow.”
“Stay by my side in the palace,” she pleaded; “go not forth by night or by day beyond the walls of Men-ne-fer. Men-ne-fer is beautiful and great; it shall be a feast to thine eyes, until the day when our barges will bear us to Tanis, there to be made man and wife.”
“Wilt hold me a prisoner of love?” he said, smiling. “I know not if I can thus bind myself to thy feet, beautiful as thou art. My counsellor will tell thee that it is meet I shall visit my people and see the cities wherein dwell my future subjects. Dost begrudge them that, which already messengers have gone forth to announce?”
“Ay, I begrudge every moment which takes thee away from me. Presently, to-night, when Isis has risen to illumine the night, thou wilt go to sit beside the Pharaoh, in the judgment-hall of Kamt, to pronounce sentence of life and death on all those who have erred or sinned against our laws. That hour will be martyrdom to me. Think of what I should suffer if thou wert absent for a day and a night.”
I could see that Hugh, like myself, was much amused by her strange persistence and her sudden change of tactics. She was evidently bent on gaining this point, having apparently lost the other, for she put forth before him all the charms and artifices which a woman, loved or loving, alone knows how to use. It was getting very dark, and in the east a faint streak of greyish light heralded the rise of the moon, but in the semi-darkness I could see the beautiful Queen’s eyes fixed with a truly magnetic look upon Hugh, while she half-offered, half-pleaded for a kiss. I think it would have required a very adamantine or very worn-out old heart to resist such charming pleading, or refuse so flattering a request, and I doubt not but that in spite of her earlier, decidedly unpleasant, tactics Hugh was ready enough to yield and promise all she asked, but unfortunately at this moment the poetic little scene was suddenly interrupted by a fanfare of metal trumpets, and from a distance we heard the cry:
“Make way for the messenger of Princess Neit-akrit!”
Even in the darkness I could see that Queen Maat-kha had become very pale, and a dark frown appeared between her eyes.
“Thou hast not yet promised,” she whispered hurriedly. “Promise, my beloved, promise.”
“Make way for the messenger of Princess Neit-akrit!”
The sound of the trumpets, the repeated cries, drowned the words in Hugh’s mouth.
“Promise thou wilt not go,” she entreated for the last time; “promise thou wilt not leave my side!”
But it was too late, for the trumpets now sounded quite close in the garden, and preceded by some of the Queen’s servants, a messenger, in shining tunic and silver helmet, with winged sandals on his feet—an emblem of his speed—was rapidly approaching towards us. Impatiently Maat-kha turned to him.
“What dost thou want?” she said imperiously. “Who has given thee leave to intrude on the presence of thy Queen? Thou deservedst a whipping at the hands of my slaves for thy daring impudence.”
The messenger, however, seemed well accustomed to this inhospitable greeting, or in any case was very indifferent to it, for he knelt down and kissed the ground, then rising again, he quietly waited until the flood of the lady’s wrath had passed over his head. Then he began, solemnly:
“From the Most High the Princess Neit-akrit, of the house of Memmoun-ra, to the beloved of the gods, greeting.”
And again he knelt and presented Hugh with a dainty tablet, on which a few words had been engraved upon a sheet of wax. I thought for one moment that the Queen would snatch it out of his hand, but evidently, mindful of her own dignity, she thought better of it and stood a little on one side, pale and frowning, while a slave brought a torch close to Hugh and held it over his head to enable him to read.
“From the humblest of thy worshippers, greeting, oh, well-beloved of Ra, envoy of Osiris. This is to apprise thee that the dwelling of thy servant will be ready to receive thee on the day after to-morrow, and Neit-akrit will be waiting to welcome thee when Isis is high in the heavens. Wilt honour her and her house by setting thy foot upon its threshold?”
“Do not go, my beloved,” whispered the Queen, excitedly.
“Tell thy mistress, messenger,” said Hugh, calmly, “that on the day after to-morrow, when Isis is high in the heavens, I and my counsellor will lay our homage at her feet, according to her will.”
The messenger salaamed again. Queen Maat-kha, among her many powers, had evidently not the one of killing with a look, for probably otherwise the unfortunate messenger would have paid dearly for the privilege of bringing Princess Neit-akrit’s greeting. As it was, he was allowed to depart in peace, and a few very uncomfortable moments followed—uncomfortable, at least, as far as two of us were concerned, for good old Hugh seemed highly amused at the episode, and even had the heartless impudence to give me a nudge, which fortunately the Queen did not see.
“Wilt thou not bid me farewell, my Queen?” he said, trying to keep up a sentimental tone. “It is time I went to the judgment-hall, for Isis will appear anon.”
But without another word she had turned away before Hugh could stop her, and had disappeared among the trees, while we both heard a heavy, almost heart-broken sob, which I think ought to have filled Hugh’s heart with remorse.
Halfan hour later we were being rowed down the canal by moonlight on our way to the judgment-hall of Men-ne-fer, and had full leisure to discuss the funny little incident in the garden.
“It was a damnable idea,” said Hugh, with true British emphasis. “She must have taken me for a fool to think that I should not see through her artful game.”
“Queen Maat-kha seems certainly to have vowed deadly hatred to her royal niece. I wonder why.”
“Feminine jealousy, I suppose. All the more serious as the lady seems to have very few scruples hidden about her fine person. It strikes me that I shall have to extend a protecting hand over my defrauded kinswoman.”
“My dear Girlie, it strikes me that that young woman will need no protection, and that, for aught you know, she bids fair to be your most dangerous enemy. She is evidently very beautiful, and a beautiful woman deprived of her rights, justly or unjustly, always has a large following.”
“A statement worthy of your best college days, oh, Doctor Sagacissime. Well! we will not despise an enemy worthy of our steel. So far we have had nothing but triumph, and easy conquests might begin to pall. But I’ll tell you what we can do, old chap,” he added with his merry, infectious laugh, “that which shall disarm our bitterest foe, if indeed she be one.Youshall enter the lists for Princess Neit-akrit’s hand, marry her, and when presently I leave this fair land to return to the foot of the throne of Ra, I shall solemnly appoint you and your heirs my successors to the double crown of Kamt.”
“I’ll tell you what you had betternotdo,” I rejoined half crossly, “and that is to fall in love yourself with the fascinating lady. Everyone seems to be doing it about here.”
“Oh, I?” he said, suddenly becoming serious, and with a touch of sadness. “I am here with a purpose, altogether besides my own self. I have to prove to the world that neither my father nor I were fools or liars. I must study the life, the government, the art of the men; my heart is crusted over with fragments of papyrus and mummies, it is impervious even to the beauty of these warm-blooded women.”
“For shame, Girlie! at your age!”
“I have no age, Mark, only a number of wasted years behind me, and a few on ahead, which I am determined shall be well filled.”
It was a beautiful starlit night, and the crescent moon shone wonderfully bright over the ancient city, with its marble edifices, its water-streets, which wound in and out among mimosa and acacia groves like a bright blue ribbon covered with glistening gems. As they rowed the boatmen sang a sweet, monotonous barcarolle, and from east and west, and north and south, at regular intervals, fanfares of trumpets greeted the crescent moon as she rose.
The great judgment-hall of Men-ne-fer stood—a gigantic circular, roofless building—high above a flight of dull grey granite steps. Open to the sky above, it was only lighted by the brilliant yet weird rays of the moon, which threw into bold relief the semi-circular rows of seats on which, when we entered, were seated a number of solemn-looking Egyptians in long flowing robes. They all rose as Hugh’s figure appeared in the massive, square archway, and he and I paused a moment to take in the strange picture which lay before our eyes.
It would be impossible for me to give any definite facts as to the proportions of this vast coliseum. It looked probably larger than it really was, owing to the dense shadows into which one-half of it was plunged and which looked almost limitless. There were several tiers of stone seats, placed in semi-circle each side of a tall throne, on which, propped up with cushions, the mighty Pharaoh reclined. On his left, a foot lower than the kingly throne, sat Ur-tasen, the high priest of Ra, and at the foot of the throne sat three old men, in one of whom I recognised my fat neighbour at the banqueting table. They also rose when Hugh entered, and I noticed that they wore round their waists heavy belts of lapis-lazuli, on which was engraved the device: “Justice. Mercy.”
A seat had been placed on the right of the Pharaoh, with a low one close behind it. These were for the beloved of the gods and his wise counsellor.
No one spoke a word in the vast and crowded building, as we made our way down into the arena first, and then up the gradients to the seats allotted to us. In the shadows behind and all around, my eyes, becoming accustomed to the gloom, distinguished a crowd of moving figures, with here and there a glint of helmet and shield.
The silence was becoming weird and almost oppressive. We were all standing, except the Pharaoh, who looked terribly cadaverous beneath the gorgeous diadem which he wore. At last Ur-tasen, raising has hands up towards the starlit sky, began to recite a long and solemn prayer. It was an invocation to all the gods of Egypt—of whom I noticed there was a goodly number—for righteousness, justice and impartiality. The solemn Egyptians in white robes, who, I concluded, were perhaps the jury, spoke the responses in nasal, sleepy tones.
While Ur-tasen prayed, a number of slaves, who were naked save for a white veil wound tightly round their heads, were going about carrying large trays, from which each member of the jury one by one took something, which I discovered to be a branch of lotus blossom. This each man touched with his forehead as he spoke the responses, and then held solemnly in his right hand.
We were, of course, deeply interested in the proceedings: the mode of administering justice in every country is the surest keynote to the character of its people. Here a decided savour of mysticism accompanied it; the peculiar hour of the night, the weird light of the moon, the white draperies, the hooded slaves even, all spoke of a people whose every thought tended towards the picturesque.
But now Ur-tasen had finished speaking. The last response had been uttered, and silence once again reigned within the mysterious hall. A herald came forth with long silver trumpet, and stood in the centre of the arena, with the light of the moon shining full upon him. He raised his trumpet skywards and blew a deafening blast. Then three times he called a name in a loud voice,—“Har-sen-tu! Har-sen-tu! Har-sen-tu!” and every time he called he was answered by a flourish of trumpets from three different ends of the buildings, accompanied by the loud cry:
“Is he there? Is he there? Is he there?”
The herald then added:
“Let him come forthwith, with all his sins, before the judgment-seat of the holy Pharaoh, and in the immediate presence of him whom Osiris has sent down from heaven, the son of Ra, the beloved of the gods. Let him come without fear, but let him come covered with remorse.”
Evidently Har-sen-tu was the first criminal to be tried in our presence in the great hall of Men-ne-fer. There was a stir among the crowd, and from out the shadows a curious group detached itself and came forward slowly and silently. There were men and women, also two or three children, all dressed in black, and some had their heads entirely swathed in thick dark veils. In the midst of them, carried by four men, was the criminal, he who, covered with sins, was to stand forth before the Pharaoh for judgment, mercy or pardon.That criminal was the dead body of a man, swathed in white linen wrappings, through which the sharp features were clearly discernible. The men who had carried it propped the corpse up in the middle of the building, facing the Pharaoh, until it stood erect, weird and ghostlike, stiff and white, sharply outlined by the brilliant moon against the dense black of the shadows behind, while round, in picturesque groups, a dozen or so men and women knelt and stood, the women weeping, the children crouching awed and still, the men solemn and silent.
And the Pharaoh, with his high priest, the three learned judges, the numerous jury, sat in solemn judgment upon the dead.
From amidst the group a man came forward, and in quiet, absolutely passionless tones, began recounting the sins of the deceased.
“He owned three houses,” he said, “and twenty-five oxen; he had at one time seventy sheep, and his cows gave him milk in plenty. His fields were rich in barley and wheat, and he found gold dust amidst the shingle by the stream close to his house. And yet,” continued the accuser, “I, his mother’s sister’s child, asked him to lend me a few pieces of money, also the loan of his cow since my child was sick and needed the milk, and he refused me, though I asked him thrice; and all the while he loaded Suem-ka, his concubine, with jewels and with gold, although Isis had pronounced no marriage blessing upon their union.”
It took this speaker some little time to recount all the misdeeds of the dead man, his hardness of heart, his negligences, and the frauds he had perpetrated: and, above all, his unlawful passion for Suem-ka, who had been his slave and had become his mistress.
When he had finished a woman came forward, and she, in her turn, related how she had vainly begged of the rich man to repent him of his sins and cast the vile slave from him, but he had driven her away, though he was her own brother, roughly from his door. There were several accusers who spoke of the dead man’s sins, and each, when they had finished their tale, added solemnly:
“Therefore do I crave of thee, oh, most holy Pharaoh! of thee, who dost deliver judgment in the name of Ra, all-creating, of Horus, all-interceding, and of Osiris, bounty-giving, that thou dost decree that Har-sen-tu’s body is unfit for preservation, lest it should remain as an abode for his villainous soul and allow it to rise again in after years to perpetrate further frauds and cruelties.”
While the accusers spoke there were no protestations on the part of the mourners, who crowded round their dead. Once or twice a sob, quickly checked, escaped one of the women’s throats. Judges and jury listened in solemn silence, and when no more was forthcoming to speak of the sins of Har-sen-tu, the defenders of the silent criminal had their say.
His friends and relations evidently, those who had benefited by his wealth or had not suffered through his hardness. Those too, perhaps, who had something to gain through the rich man’s death. The most interesting witness for this strange defence was undoubtedly Suem-ka, the slave. She was a fine, rather coarse-looking girl, with large dark eyes and full figure. She was entirely wrapped in the folds of a thick black veil, but her arms and hands, as she raised them imploringly towards the Pharaoh, and swore before Isis that she had never been aught but a lowly handmaiden to her dead master, were, I noticed, covered with rings and gems.
The rich man had many friends. They formed a veritable phalanx round his corpse, defying the outraged relatives, confronting his enemies, and entreating for him the right of embalming, of holy sepulture, so that his body might be kept pure and undefiled from decay, ready to once more receive the soul, when it had concluded its wanderings in the shadowland where dwelleth Anubis and Hor, and Ra, the Most High.
I felt strangely impressed by this curious pleading for one so silent and so still, who seemed to stand there in awesome majesty, hearing accusation and defence with the same contemptuous solemnity, the same dignity of eternal sleep.
When accusers and defenders had had their say, there was a long moment of silence: then the three judges rose and recapitulated the sins and virtues of the dead man. Personally, I must confess that, had I been on the jury, I should have found it very difficult to give any opinion on the case. Suem-ka, the slave, with her arms and hands covered with jewels, was, to my mind, the strongest witness against the master whom she tried to shield. But then it did not transpire that the deceased had had a wife, or had any children. The numerous jury, however, seemed to have made up their minds very quickly. When the last of the judges had finished speaking, they all rose from their seats and some held the lotus flower, which they had in their hand, high over their heads, while the others—and I noticed that these were decidedly in the minority—dropped the blossom to the ground.
The judges took count and pronounced a solemn “Ay,” and Suem-ka, overcome with emotion, fell sobbing at the feet of the dead man.
After this Ur-tasen rose and delivered judgment upon the dead.
“Har-sen-tu! Har-sen-tu! Har-sen-tu! rejoice! The holy Pharaoh has heard thy sins! But the gods have whispered mercy into the air. Isis smileth down in joy upon thee.
“Har-sen-tu! Har-sen-tu! Har-sen-tu! go forth from the judgment-seat of the holy Pharaoh, to face fearlessly the more majestic, more mysterious throne of Osiris!
“Har-sen-tu! Har-sen-tu! Har-sen-tu! may Anubis, the jackal-headed god, guide thee! may Horus intercede for thee and Osiris receive thee in the glorious vault of heaven, where dwelleth Ra, and where is neither sin nor disease, sorrow nor tears! Har-sen-tu, thou art pure!”
A scribe handed him a document which he placed before the Pharaoh, who with his usual contemptuous listlessness placed his seal upon it. Then I saw the high priest hesitate one moment, while the scribe waited and the Pharaoh shrugged his shoulders, laughing in his derisive way. Hugh smiled. I think we both guessed the cause of the high priest’s hesitation. Ur-tasen was frowning, and looking now at Hugh, and now at the document in his hand; but Suem-ka, the slave, happy in her triumph, ended the suspense by shouting:
“Thy hand upon the seal, oh, beloved of the gods!”
With a slight frown Ur-tasen ordered the scribe to hand the document across to Hugh, who placed his name beside that of the Pharaoh in bold hieroglyphic characters: