II
THE NIGHT OF DREAD
The feast dragged slowly on, for Fear was of the company. The men andwomen were silent, and when they drank, it was as if one had poured alittle oil on a dying fire. Life flamed up in them for a moment, theirlaughter came like the crackling of thorns, and then they were silentagain. Meanwhile the Wanderer drank little, waiting to see what shouldcome. But the Queen was watching him whom already her heart desired,and she only of all the company had pleasure in this banquet. Suddenlya side-door opened behind the dais, there was a stir in the hall, eachguest turning his head fearfully, for all expected some evil tidings.But it was only the entrance of those who bear about in the feasts ofEgypt an effigy of the Dead, the likeness of a mummy carved in wood,and who cry: "Drink, O King, and be glad, thou shalt soon be even as he!Drink, and be glad." The stiff, swathed figure, with its folded handsand gilded face, was brought before the Pharaoh, and Meneptah, who hadsat long in sullen brooding silence, started when he looked on it. Thenhe broke into an angry laugh.
"We have little need of thee to-night," he cried, as he salutedthe symbol of Osiris. "Death is near enough, we want not thy silentpreaching. Death, Death is near!"
He fell back in his gilded chair, and let the cup drop from his hand,gnawing at his beard.
"Art thou a man?" spoke Meriamun, in a low clear voice; "are you men,and yet afraid of what comes to all? Is it only to-night that we firsthear the name of Death? Remember the great Men-kau-ra, remember theold Pharaoh who built the Pyramid of Hir. He was just and kind, and hefeared the Gods, and for his reward they showed him Death, coming on himin six short years. Did he scowl and tremble, like all of you to-night,who are scared by the threats of slaves? Nay, he outwitted the Gods, hemade night into day, he lived out twice his years, with revel and loveand wine in the lamp-lit groves of persea trees. Come, my guests, let usbe merry, if it be but for an hour. Drink, and be brave!"
"For once thou speakest well," said the King. "Drink and forget; theGods who give Death give wine," and his angry eyes ranged through thehall, to seek some occasion of mirth and scorn.
"Thou Wanderer!" he said, suddenly. "Thou drinkest not: I have watchedthee as the cups go round; what, man, thou comest from the North,the sun of thy pale land has not heat enough to foster the vine. Thouseemest cold, and a drinker of water; why wilt thou be cold before thinehour? Come, pledge me in the red wine of Khem. Bring forth the cup ofPasht!" he cried to them who waited, "bring forth the cup of Pasht, theKing drinks!"
Then the chief butler of Pharaoh went to the treasure-house, and cameagain, bearing a huge golden cup, fashioned in the form of a lion'shead, and holding twelve measures of wine. It was an ancient cup, sacredto Pasht, and a gift of the Rutennu to Thothmes, the greatest of thatname.
"Fill it full of unmixed wine!" cried the King. "Dost thou grow paleat the sight of the cup, thou Wanderer from the North? I pledge thee,pledge thou me!"
"Nay, King," said the Wanderer, "I have tasted wine of Ismarus beforeto-day, and I have drunk with a wild host, the one-eyed Man Eater!" Forhis heart was angered by the King, and he forgot his wisdom, but theQueen marked the saying.
"Then pledge me in the cup of Pasht!" quoth the King.
"I pray thee, pardon me," said the Wanderer, "for wine makes wise menfoolish and strong men weak, and to-night methinks we shall need ourwits and our strength."
"Craven!" cried the King, "give me the bowl. I drink to thy bettercourage, Wanderer," and lifting the great golden cup, he stood up anddrank it, and then dropped staggering into his chair, his head fallen onhis breast.
"I may not refuse a King's challenge, though it is ill to contend withour hosts," said the Wanderer, turning somewhat pale, for he was inanger. "Give me the bowl!"
He took the cup, and held it high; then pouring a little forth to hisGods, he said, in a clear voice, for he was stirred to anger beyond hiswont:
"_I drink to the Strange Hathor!_"
He spoke, and drained the mighty cup, and set it down on the board, andeven as he laid down the cup, and as the Queen looked at him with eyesof wrath, there came from the bow beside his seat a faint shrill sound,a ringing and a singing of the bow, a noise of running strings and asound as of rushing arrows.
The warrior heard it, and his eyes burned with the light of battle, forhe knew well that the swift shafts should soon fly to the hearts of thedoomed. Pharaoh awoke and heard it, and heard it the Lady Meriamun theQueen, and she looked on the Wanderer astonished, and looked on the bowthat sang.
"The minstrel's tale was true! This is none other but the Bow ofOdysseus, the sacker of cities," said Meriamun. "Hearken thou, Eperitus,thy great bow sings aloud. How comes it that thy bow sings?"
"For this cause, Queen," said the Wanderer; "because birds gather on theBridge of War. Soon shall shafts be flying and ghosts go down to doom.Summon thy Guards, I bid thee, for foes are near."
Terror conquered the drunkenness of Pharaoh; he bade the Guards whostood behind his chair summon all their company. They went forth, and agreat hush fell again upon the Hall of Banquets and upon those who satat meat therein. The silence grew deadly still, like air before thethunder, and men's hearts sank within them, and turned to water in theirbreasts. Only Odysseus wondered and thought on the battle to be, thoughwhence the foe might come he knew not, and Meriamun sat erect in herivory chair and looked down the glorious hall.
Deeper grew the silence and deeper yet, and more and more the cloud offear gathered in the hearts of men. Then suddenly through all the hallthere was a rush like the rush of mighty wings. The deep foundationsof the Palace rocked, and to the sight of men the roof above seemedto burst asunder, and lo! above them, against the distance of the sky,there swept a shape of Fear, and the stars shone through its raiment.
Then the roof closed in again, and for a moment's space once more therewas silence, whilst men looked with white faces, each on each, and eventhe stout heart of the Wanderer stood still.
Then suddenly all down the hall, from this place and from that, men roseup and with one great cry fell down dead, this one across the board,and that one across the floor. The Wanderer grasped his bow and counted.From among those who sat at meat twenty and one had fallen dead. Yetthose who lived sat gazing emptily, for so stricken with fear were theythat scarce did each one know if it was he himself who lay dead or hisbrother who had sat by his side.
But Meriamun looked down the hall with cold eyes, for she feared neitherDeath nor Life, nor God nor man.
And while she looked and while the Wanderer counted, there rose a faintmurmuring sound from the city without, a sound that grew and grew, thethunder of myriad feet that run before the death of kings. Then thedoors burst asunder and a woman sped through them in her night robes,and in her arms she bore the naked body of a boy.
"Pharaoh!" she cried, "Pharaoh, and thou, O Queen, look upon thyson--thy firstborn son--dead is thy son, O Pharaoh! Dead is thy son, OQueen! In my arms he died suddenly as I lulled him to his rest," and shelaid the body of the child down on the board among the vessels of gold,among the garlands of lotus flowers and the beakers of rose-red wine.
Then Pharaoh rose and rent his purple robes and wept aloud. Meriamunrose too, and lifting the body of her son clasped it to her breast, andher eyes were terrible with wrath and grief, but she wept not.
"See now the curse that this evil woman, this False Hathor, hath broughtupon us," she said.
But the very guests sprang up crying, "It is not the Hathor whom weworship, it is not the Holy Hathor, it is the Gods of those dark Apurawhom thou, O Queen, wilt not let go. On thy head and the head of Pharaohbe it," and even as they cried the murmur without grew to a shriek ofwoe, a shriek so wild and terrible that the Palace walls rang. Againthat shriek rose, and yet a third time, never was such a cry heardin Egypt. And now for the first time in all his days the face of theWanderer grew white with fear, and in fear of heart he prayed forsuccour to his Goddess--to Aphrodite, the daughter of Dione.
Again the doors behind them
burst open and the Guards flocked in--mightymen of many foreign lands; but now their faces were wan, their eyesstared wide, and their jaws hung down. But at the sound of the clangingof their harness the strength of the Wanderer came back to him again,for the Gods and their vengeance he feared, but not the sword of man.And now once more the bow sang aloud. He grasped it, he bent it with hismighty knee, and strung it, crying:
"Awake, Pharaoh, awake! Foes draw on. Say, be these all the men?"
Then the Captain answered, "These be all of the Guard who are leftliving in the Palace. The rest are stark, smitten by the angry Gods."
Now as the Captain spake, one came running up the hall, heeding neitherthe dead nor the living. It was the old priest Rei, the Commander of theLegion of Amen, who had been the Wanderer's guide, and his looks werewild with fear.
"Hearken, Pharaoh!" he cried, "thy people lie dead by thousands in thestreets--the houses are full of dead. In the Temples of Ptah and Amenmany of the priests have fallen dead also."
"Hast thou more to tell, old man?" cried the Queen.
"The tale has not all been told, O Queen. The soldiers are mad withfear and with the sight of death, and slay their captains; barely haveI escaped from those in my command of the Legion of Amen. For they swearthat this death has been brought upon the land because the Pharaoh willnot let the Apura go. Hither, then, they come to slay the Pharaoh,and thee also, O Queen, and with them come many thousands of people,catching up such arms as lie to their hands."
Now Pharaoh sank down groaning, but the Queen spake to the Wanderer:
"Anon thy weapon sang of war, Eperitus; now war is at the gates."
"Little I fear the rush of battle and the blows men deal in anger,Lady," he made answer, "though a man may fear the Gods without shame.Ho, Guards! close up, close up round me! Look not so pale-faced nowdeath from the Gods is done with, and we have but to fear the sword ofmen."
So great was his mien and so glorious his face as he cried thus, and oneby one drew his long arrows forth and laid them on the board, that thetrembling Guards took heart, and to the number of fifty and one rangedthemselves on the edge of the dais in a double line. Then they also madeready their bows and loosened the arrows in their quivers.
Now from without there came a roar of men, and anon, while those of thehouse of Pharaoh, and of the guests and nobles, who sat at the feast andyet lived, fled behind the soldiers, the brazen doors were burst in withmighty blows, and through them a great armed multitude surged alongthe hall. There came soldiers broken from their ranks. There came theembalmers of the Dead; their hands were overfull of work to-night, butthey left their work undone; Death had smitten some even of these, andtheir fellows did not shrink back from them now. There came the smith,black from the forge, and the scribe bowed with endless writing; andthe dyer with his purple hands, and the fisher from the stream; and thestunted weaver from the loom, and the leper from the Temple gates. Theywere mad with lust of life, a starveling life that the King had taxed,when he let not the Apura go. They were mad with fear of death; theirwomen followed them with dead children in their arms. They smote downthe golden furnishings, they tore the silken hangings, they cast theempty cups of the feast at the faces of trembling ladies, and criedaloud for the blood of the King.
"Where is Pharaoh?" they yelled, "show us Pharaoh and the QueenMeriamun, that we may slay them. Dead are our first born, they liein heaps as the fish lay when Sihor ran red with blood. Dead are theybecause of the curse that has been brought upon us by the prophets ofthe Apura, whom Pharaoh, and Pharaoh's Queen, yet hold in Khem."
Now as they cried they saw Pharaoh Meneptah cowering behind the doubleline of Guards, and they saw the Queen Meriamun who cowered not, butstood silent above the din. Then she thrust her way through the Guards,and yet holding the body of the child to her breast, she stood beforethem with eyes that flashed more brightly than the uraeus crown upon herbrow.
"Back!" she cried, "back! It is not Pharaoh, it is not I, who havebrought this death upon you. For we too have death here!" and she heldup the body of her dead son. "It is that False Hathor whom ye worship,that Witch of many a voice and many a face who turns your hearts faintwith love. For her sake ye endure these woes, on her head is all thisdeath. Go, tear her temple stone from stone, and rend her beauty limbfrom limb and be avenged and free the land from curses."
A moment the people stood and hearkened, muttering as stands thelion that is about to spring, while those who pressed without cried:"Forward! Forward! Slay them! Slay them!" Then as with one voice theyscreamed:
"The Hathor we love, but you we hate, for ye have brought these woesupon us, and ye shall die."
They cried, they brawled, they cast footstools and stones at the Guards,and then a certain tall man among them drew a bow. Straight at theQueen's fair breast he aimed his arrow, and swift and true it spedtowards her. She saw the light gleam upon its shining barb, and then shedid what no woman but Meriamun would have done, no, not to save herselffrom death--she held out the naked body of her son as a warrior holdsa shield. The arrow struck through and through it, piercing the tenderflesh, aye, and pricked her breast beyond, so that she let the dead boyfall.
The Wanderer saw it and wondered at the horror of the deed, for he hadseen no such deed in all his days. Then shouting aloud the terriblewar-cry of the Achaeans he leapt upon the board before him, and as heleapt his golden armour clanged.
Glancing around, he fixed an arrow to the string and drew to his earthat great bow which none but he might so much as bend. Then as heloosed, the string sang like a swallow, and the shaft screamed throughthe air. Down the glorious hall it sped, and full on the breast of himwho had lifted bow against the Queen the bitter arrow struck, nor mighthis harness avail to stay it. Through the body of him it passed and withblood-red feathers flew on, and smote another who stood behind him sothat his knees also were loosened, and together they fell dead upon thefloor.
Now while the people stared and wondered, again the bowstring sang likea swallow, again the arrow screamed in its flight, and he who stoodbefore it got his death, for the shield he bore was pinned to hisbreast.
Then wonder turned to rage; the multitude rolled forward, and fromeither side the air grew dark with arrows. For the Guards at thesight of the shooting of the Wanderer found heart and fought well andmanfully. Boldly also the slayers came on, and behind them pressed manya hundred men. The Wanderer's golden helm flashed steadily, a beacon inthe storm. Black smoke burst out in the hall, the hangings flamed andtossed in a wind from the open door. The lights were struck from thehands of the golden images, arrows stood thick in the tables and therafters, a spear pierced through the golden cup of Pasht. But out ofthe darkness and smoke and dust, and the cry of battle, and through therushing of the rain of spears, sang the swallow string of the black bowof Eurytus, and the long shafts shrieked as they sped on them who wereripe to die. In vain did the arrows of the slayers smite upon thatgolden harness. They were but as hail upon the temple roofs, but asdriving snow upon the wild stag's horns. They struck, they rattled, anddown they dropped like snow, or bounded back and lay upon the board.
The swallow string sang, the black bow twanged, and the bitter arrowsshrieked as they flew.
Now the Wanderer's shafts were spent, and he judged that their case wasdesperate. For out of the doors of the hall that were behind them, andfrom the chambers of the women, armed men burst in also, taking them onthe flank and rear. But the Wanderer was old in war, and without a matchin all its ways. The Captain of the Guard was slain with a spear stroke,and the Wanderer took his place, calling to the men, such of them aswere left alive, to form a circle on the dais, and within the circle heset those of the house of Pharaoh and the women who were at the feast.And to Pharaoh he cast a slain man's sword, bidding him strike for lifeand throne if he never struck before; but the heart was out of Pharaohbecause of the death of his son, and the wine about his wits, and theterrors he had seen. Then Meriamun the Queen snatched the sword from histrembling hand and stood
holding it to guard her life. For she disdainedto crouch upon the ground as did the other women, but stood uprightbehind the Wanderer, and heeded not the spears and arrows that dealtdeath on every hand. But Pharaoh stood, his face buried in his hands.
Now the slayers came on, shouting and clambering upon the dais. Thenthe Wanderer rushed on them with sword drawn, and shield on high, and soswift he smote that men might not guard, for they saw, as it were, threeblades aloft at once, and the silver-hafted sword bit deep, the gift ofPhaeacian Euryalus long ago. The Guards also smote and thrust; it wasfor their lives they fought, and back rolled the tide of foes, leavinga swathe of dead. So a second time they came on, and a second time wererolled back.
Now of the defenders few were left unhurt, and their strength waswell-nigh spent. But the Wanderer cheered them with great words, thoughhis heart grew fearful for the end; and Meriamun the Queen also badethem to be of good courage, and if need were, to die like men. Then onceagain the wave of War rolled in upon them, and the strife grew fierceand desperate. The iron hedge of spears was well-nigh broken, and nowthe Wanderer, doing such deeds as had not been known in Khem, stoodalone between Meriamun the Queen and the swords that thirsted for herlife and the life of Pharaoh. Then of a sudden, from far down the greathall of banquets, there came a loud cry that shrilled above the clash ofswords, the groans of men, and all the din of battle.
"_Pharaoh! Pharaoh! Pharaoh!_" rose a voice. "Now wilt thou let thepeople go?"
Then he who smote stayed his hand and he who guarded dropped his shield.The battle ceased and all turned to look. There at the end of the hall,among the dead and dying, there stood the two ancient men of the Apura,and in their hands were cedar rods.
"It is the Wizards--the Wizards of the Apura," men cried, and shrunkthis way and that, thinking no more on war.
The ancient men drew nigh. They took no heed of the dying or the dead:on they walked, through blood and wine and fallen tables and scatteredarms, till they stood before the Pharaoh.
"_Pharaoh! Pharaoh! Pharaoh!_" they cried again. "Dead are thefirst-born of Khem at the hand of Jahveh. Wilt thou let the people go?"
Then Pharaoh lifted his face and cried:
"Get you gone--you and all that is yours. Get you gone swiftly, and letKhem see your face no more."
The people heard, and the living left the hall, and silence fell on thecity, and on the dead who died of the sword, and the dead who diedof the pestilence. Silence fell, and sleep, and the Gods' bestgift--forgetfulness.