Uarda : a Romance of Ancient Egypt — Complete

by Georg Ebers

  CHAPTER XXVII.

  The sun was up on the twenty-ninth morning of the second month of theover-flow of the Nile,

  [The 29th Phaophi. The Egyptians divided the year into three seasons of four months each. Flood-time, seed-time and Harvest. (Scha, per and schemu.) The 29th Phaophi corresponds to the 8th November.]

  and citizens and their wives, old men and children, freemen and slaves,led by priests, did homage to the rising day-star before the door of thetemple to which the quarter of the town belonged where each one dwelt.

  The Thebans stood together like Huge families before the pylons, waitingfor the processions of priests, which they intended to join in order tomarch in their train round the great temple of the city, and thence tocross with the festal barks to the Necropolis.

  To-day was the Feast of the Valley, and Anion, the great God of Thebes,was carried over in solemn pomp to the City of the Dead, in order thathe--as the priests said--might sacrifice to his fathers in the otherworld. The train marched westward; for there, where the earthly remainsof man also found rest, the millions of suns had disappeared, each ofwhich was succeeded daily by a new one, born of the night. Theyoung luminary, the priests said, did not forget those that had beenextinguished, and from whom he was descended; and Anion paid them thismark of respect to warn the devout not to forget those who were passedaway, and to whom they owed their existence.

  "Bring offerings," says a pious text, "to thy father and thy motherwho rest in the valley of the tombs; for such gifts are pleasing to theGods, who will receive them as if brought to themselves. Often visit thydead, so that what thou dost for them, thy son may do for thee."

  The Feast of the Valley was a feast of the dead; but it was not amelancholy solemnity, observed with lamentation and wailing; on thecontrary, it was a cheerful festival, devoted to pious and sentimentalmemories of those whom we cease not to love after death, whom we esteemhappy and blest, and of whom we think with affection; to whom too thethrong from Thebes brought offerings, forming groups in the chapel-liketombs, or in front of the graves, to eat and drink.

  Father, mother and children clung together; the house-slaves followedwith provisions, and with torches, which would light up the darkness ofthe tomb and show the way home at night.

  Even the poorest had taken care to secure beforehand a place in one ofthe large boats which conveyed the people across the stream; the bargesof the rich, dressed in the gayest colors, awaited their owners withtheir households, and the children had dreamed all night of the sacredbark of Anion, whose splendor, as their mothers told them, washardly less than that of the golden boat in which the Sun-God and hiscompanions make their daily voyage across the ocean of heaven. The broadlanding place of the temple of Anion was already crowded with priests,the shore with citizens, and the river with boats; already loud musicdrowned the din of the crowds, who thronged and pushed, enveloped inclouds of dust, to reach the boats; the houses and hovels of Thebeswere all empty, and the advent of the God through the temple-gates waseagerly expected; but still the members of the royal family had notappeared, who were wont on this solemn day to go on foot to the greattemple of Anion; and, in the crowd, many a one asked his neighbor whyBent-Anat, the fair daughter of Rameses, lingered so long, and delayedthe starting of the procession.

  The priests had begun their chant within the walls, which debarred theouter world from any glimpse into the bright precincts of the temple;the Regent with his brilliant train had entered the sanctuary; the gateswere thrown open; the youths in their short-aprons, who threw flowersin the path of the God, had come out; clouds of incense announced theapproach of Anion--and still the daughter of Rameses appeared not.

  Many rumors were afloat, most of them contradictory; but one wasaccurate, and confirmed by the temple servants, to the great regret ofthe crowd--Bent-Anat was excluded from the Feast of the Valley.

  She stood on her balcony with her brother Rameri and her friend Nefert,and looked down on the river, and on the approaching God.

  Early in the previous morning Bek-en-Chunsu, the old high-priest of thetemple of Anion had pronounced her clean, but in the evening he hadcome to communicate to her the intelligence that Ameni prohibited herentering the Necropolis before she had obtained the forgiveness of theGods of the West for her offence.

  While still under the ban of uncleanness she had visited the temple ofHathor, and had defiled it by her presence; and the stern Superiorof the City of the Dead was in the right--that Bek-en-Chunsu himselfadmitted--in closing the western shore against her. Bent-Anat then hadrecourse to Ani; but, though he promised to mediate for her, he camelate in the evening to tell her that Ameni was inexorable. The Regent atthe same time, with every appearance of regret, advised her to avoidan open quarrel, and not to defy Ameni's lofty severity, but to remainabsent from the festival.

  Katuti at the same time sent the dwarf to Nefert, to desire her to joinher mother, in taking part in the procession, and in sacrificing in herfather's tomb; but Nefert replied that she neither could nor would leaveher royal friend and mistress.

  Bent-Anat had given leave of absence to the highest members ofher household, and had prayed them to think of her at the splendidsolemnity.

  When, from her balcony, she saw the mob of people and the crowd ofboats, she went back into her room, called Rameri, who was angrilydeclaiming at what he called Ameni's insolence, took his hands in hers,and said:

  "We have both done wrong, brother; let us patiently submit to theconsequences of our faults, and conduct ourselves as if our father werewith us."

  "He would tear the panther-skin from the haughty priest's shoulders,"cried Rameri, "if he dared to humiliate you so in his presence;" andtears of rage ran down his smooth cheeks as he spoke.

  "Put anger aside," said Bent-Anat. "You were still quite little the lasttime my father took part in this festival."

  "Oh! I remember that morning well," exclaimed Rameri, "and shall neverforget it."

  "So I should think," said the princess. "Do not leave us, Nefert--youare now my sister. It was a glorious morning; we children were collectedin the great hall of the King, all in festival dresses; he had us calledinto this room, which had been inhabited by my mother, who then hadbeen dead only a few months. He took each of us by the hand, and said heforgave us everything we might have done wrong if only we were sincerelypenitent, and gave us each a kiss on our forehead. Then he beckoned usall to him, and said, as humbly as if he were one of us instead of thegreat king, 'Perhaps I may have done one of you some injustice, or havekept you out of some right; I am not conscious of such a thing, but ifit has occurred I am very sorry'--we all rushed upon him, and wantedto kiss him, but he put us aside smiling, and said, 'Each of you hasenjoyed an equal share of one thing, that you may be sure--I mean yourfather's love; and I see now that you return what I have given you.'Then he spoke of our mother, and said that even the tenderest fathercould not fill the place of a mother. He drew a lovely picture of theunselfish devotion of the dead mother, and desired us to pray and tosacrifice with him at her resting-place, and to resolve to be worthy ofher; not only in great things but in trifles too, for they make upthe sum of life, as hours make the days, and the years. We elder onesclasped each other's hands, and I never felt happier than in thatmoment, and afterwards by my mother's grave." Nefert raised her eyesthat were wet with tears.

  "With such a father it must be easy to be good," she said.

  "Did your mother never speak good words that went to your heart on themorning of this festival?" asked Bent-Anat.

  Nefert colored, and answered: "We were always late in dressing, and thenhad to hurry to be at the temple in time."

  "Then let me be your mother to-day," cried the princess, "and yours too,Rameri. Do you not remember how my father offered forgiveness to theofficers of the court, and to all the servants, and how he enjoined usto root out every grudge from our hearts on this day? 'Only stainlessgarments,' he said, 'befit this feast; only hearts without spot.' So,brother, I will not hear an e
vil word about Ameni, who is most likelyforced to be severe by the law; my father will enquire into it all anddecide. My heart is so full, it must overflow. Come, Nefert, give me akiss, and you too, Rameri. Now I will go into my little temple, inwhich the images of our ancestors stand, and think of my mother and theblessed spirits of those loved ones to whom I may not sacrifice to-day."

  "I will go with you," said Rameri.

  "You, Nefert--stay here," said Bent-Anat, "and cut as many flowers asyou like; take the best and finest, and make a wreath, and when it isready we will send a messenger across to lay it, with other gifts, onthe grave of your Mena's mother."

  When, half-an-hour later, the brother and sister returned to the youngwife, two graceful garlands hung in Nefert's bands, one for the grave ofthe dead queen, and one for Mena's mother.

  "I will carry over the wreaths, and lay them in the tombs," cried theprince.

  "Ani thought it would be better that we should not show ourselves to thepeople," said his sister. "They will scarcely notice that you are notamong the school-boys, but--"

  "But I will not go over as the king's son, but as a gardener's boy--"interrupted the prince. "Listen to the flourish of trumpets! the God hasnow passed through the gates."

  Rameri stepped out into the balcony, and the two women followed him, andlooked down on the scene of the embarkation which they could easily seewith their sharp young eyes.

  "It will be a thinner and poorer procession without either my father orus, that is one comfort," said Rameri. "The chorus is magnificent; herecome the plume-bearers and singers; there is the chief prophet at thegreat temple, old Bek-en-Chunsu. How dignified he looks, but he will notlike going. Now the God is coming, for I, smell the incense."

  With these words the prince fell on his knees, and the women followedhis example--when they saw first a noble bull in whose shining skin thesun was reflected, and who bore between his horns a golden disk, abovewhich stood white ostrich-feathers; and then, divided from the bull onlyby a few fan-bearers, the God himself, sometimes visible, but more oftenhidden from sight by great semi-circular screens of black and whiteostrich-feathers, which were fixed on long poles, and with which thepriests shaded the God.

  His mode of progress was as mysterious as his name, for he seemed tofloat slowly on his gorgeous throne from the temple-gates towards thestream. His seat was placed on a platform, magnificently decorated withbunches and garlands of flowers, and covered with hangings of purple andgold brocade, which concealed the priests who bore it along with a slowand even pace.

  As soon as the God had been placed on board his barge, Bent-Anat and hercompanions rose from their knees.

  Then came some priests, who carried a box with the sacred evergreen treeof Amon; and when a fresh outburst of music fell on her ear, and a cloudof incense was wafted up to her, Bent-Anat said: "Now my father shouldbe coming."

  "And you," cried Rameri, "and close behind, Nefert's husband, Mena,with the guards. Uncle Ani comes on foot. How strangely he has dressedhimself like a sphinx hind-part before!"

  "How so?" asked Nefert.

  "A sphinx," said Rameri laughing, it has the body of a lion, and thehead of a man,

  [There were no female sphinxes in Egypt. The sphinx was called Neb, i. e., the lord. The lion-couchant had either a man's or a rams head.]

  and my uncle has a peaceful priest's robe, and on his head the helmet ofa warrior."

  "If the king were here, the distributor of life," said Nefert, "youwould not be missing from among his supporters."

  "No indeed!" replied the prince, "and the whole thing is altogetherdifferent when my father is here. His heroic form is splendid on hisgolden throne; the statues of Truth and justice spread their wingsbehind him as if to protect him; his mighty representative in fight, thelion, lies peacefully before him, and over him spreads the canopy withthe Urmus snake at the top. There is hardly any end to the haruspices,the pastophori with the standards, the images of the Gods, and theflocks and herds for sacrifice. Only think, even the North has sentrepresentatives to the feast, as if my father were here. I know all thedifferent signs on the standards. Do you recognize the images of theking's ancestors, Nefert? No? no more do I; but it seemed to me thatAhmes I., who expelled the Hyksos--from whom our grandmother wasdescended--headed the procession, and not my grandfather Seti, as heshould have done. Here come the soldiers; they are the legions which Aniequipped, and who returned victorious from Ethiopia only last night.How the people cheer them! and indeed they have behaved valiantly. Onlythink, Bent-Anat and Nefert, what it will be when my father comes home,with a hundred captive princes, who will humbly follow his chariot,which your Mena will drive, with our brothers and all the nobles of theland, and the guards in their splendid chariots."

  "They do not think of returning yet!" sighed Nefert. While more and moretroops of the Regent's soldiers, more companies of musicians, and rareanimals, followed in procession, the festal bark of Amon started fromthe shore.

  It was a large and gorgeous barge of wood, polished all over andoverlaid with gold, and its edge was decorated with glitteringglass-beads, which imitated rubies and emeralds; the masts and yardswere gilt, and purple sails floated from them. The seats for the priestswere of ivory, and garlands of lilies and roses hung round the vessel,from its masts and ropes.

  The Regent's Nile-boat was not less splendid; the wood-work shonewith gilding, the cabin was furnished with gay Babylonian carpets; alion's-head formed the prow, as formerly in Hatasu's sea-going vessels,and two large rubies shone in it, for eyes. After the priests hadembarked, and the sacred barge had reached the opposite shore, thepeople pressed into the boats, which, filled almost to sinking, soonso covered the whole breadth of the river that there was hardly a spotwhere the sun was mirrored in the yellow waters.

  "Now I will put on the dress of a gardener," cried Rameri, "and crossover with the wreaths."

  "You will leave us alone?" asked Bent-Anat.

  "Do not make me anxious," said Rameri.

  "Go then," said the princess. "If my father were here how willingly Iwould go too."

  "Come with me," cried the boy. "We can easily find a disguise for youtoo."

  "Folly!" said Bent-Anat; but she looked enquiringly at Nefert, whoshrugged her shoulders, as much as to say: "Your will is my law."

  Rameri was too sharp for the glances of the friends to have escaped him,and he exclaimed eagerly:

  "You will come with me, I see you will! Every beggar to-day flings hisflower into the common grave, which contains the black mummy of hisfather--and shall the daughter of Rameses, and the wife of the chiefcharioteer, be excluded from bringing garlands to their dead?"

  "I shall defile the tomb by my presence," said Bent-Anat coloring.

  "You--you!" exclaimed Rameri, throwing his arms round his sister's neck,and kissing her. "You, a noble generous creature, who live only toease sorrow and to wipe away tears; you, the very image of myfather--unclean! sooner would I believe that the swans down there areas black as crows, and the rose-wreaths on the balcony rank hemlockbranches. Bek-en-Chunsu pronounced you clean, and if Ameni--"

  "Ameni only exercises his rights," said Bent-Anat gently, "and you knowwhat we have resolved. I will not hear one hard word about him to-day."

  "Very well! he has graciously and mercifully kept us from the feast,"said Rameri ironically, and he bowed low in the direction of theNecropolis, "and you are unclean. Do not enter the tombs and the templeson my account; let us stay outside among the people. The roads overthere are not so very sensitive; paraschites and other unclean folkspass over them every day. Be sensible, Bent-Anat, and come. We willdisguise ourselves; I will conduct you; I will lay the garlands in thetombs, we will pray together outside, we will see the sacred processionand the feats of the magicians, and hear the festive discourse. Onlythink! Pentaur, in spite of all they have said against him, is todeliver it. The temple of Seti wants to do its best to-day, and Ameniknows very well that Pentaur, when he opens his mouth, stirs the heartsof
the people more than all the sages together if they were to sing inchorus! Come with me, sister."

  "So be it then," said Bent-Anat with sudden decision.

  Rameri was surprised at this quick resolve, at which however he wasdelighted; but Nefert looked anxiously at her friend. In a momenther eyes fell; she knew now who it was that her friend loved, and thefearful thought--"How will it end?" flashed through her mind.