Uarda : a Romance of Ancient Egypt — Complete

by Georg Ebers

  CHAPTER XXX.

  While the banquet was going forward at the temple, and Ameni'smessengers were on their way to the valley of the kings' tombs, to wakenup old Hekt, a furious storm of hot wind came up from the southwest,sweeping black clouds across the sky, and brown clouds of dust acrossthe earth. It bowed the slender palm-trees as an archer bends his bow,tore the tentpegs up on the scene of the festival, whirled the lighttent-cloths up in the air, drove them like white witches through thedark night, and thrashed the still surface of the Nile till its yellowwaters swirled and tossed in waves like a restless sea.

  Paaker had compelled his trembling slaves to row him across the stream;several times the boat was near being swamped, but he had seized thehelm himself with his uninjured hand, and guided it firmly and surely,though the rocking of the boat kept his broken hand in great andconstant pain. After a few ineffectual attempts he succeeded in landing.The storm had blown out the lanterns at the masts--the signal lights forwhich his people looked--and he found neither servants nor torch-bearerson the bank, so he struggled through the scorching wind as far as thegate of his house. His big dog had always been wont to announce hisreturn home to the door-keeper with joyful barking; but to-night theboatmen long knocked in vain at the heavy doer. When at last he enteredthe court-yard, he found all dark, for the wind had extinguished thelanterns and torches, and there were no lights but in the windows of hismother's rooms.

  The dogs in their open kennels now began to make themselves heard, buttheir tones were plaintive and whining, for the storm had frightened thebeasts; their howling cut the pioneer to the heart, for it reminded himof the poor slain Descher, whose deep voice he sadly missed; and when hewent into his own room he was met by a wild cry of lamentation from theEthiopian slave, for the dog which he had trained for Paaker's father,and which he had loved.

  The pioneer threw himself on a seat, and ordered some water to bebrought, that he might cool his aching hand in it, according to theprescription of Nebsecht.

  As soon as the old man saw the broken fingers, he gave another yell ofwoe, and when Paaker ordered him to cease he asked:

  "And is the man still alive who did that, and who killed Descher?"

  Paaker nodded, and while he held his hand in the cooling water he lookedsullenly at the ground. He felt miserable, and he asked himself whythe storm had not swamped the boat, and the Nile had not swallowed him.Bitterness and rage filled his breast, and he wished he were a child,and might cry. But his mood soon changed, his breath came quickly,his breast heaved, and an ominous light glowed in his eyes. He was notthinking of his love, but of the revenge that was even dearer to him.

  "That brood of Rameses!" he muttered. "I will sweep them all awaytogether--the king, and Mena, and those haughty princes, and manymore--I know how. Only wait, only wait!" and he flung up his right fistwith a threatening gesture.

  The door opened at this instant, and his mother entered the room; theraging of the storm had drowned the sound of her steps, and as sheapproached her revengeful son, she called his name in horror at the madwrath which was depicted in his countenance. Paaker started, and thensaid with apparent composure:

  "Is it you, mother? It is near morning, and it is better to be asleepthan awake in such an hour."

  "I could not rest in my rooms," answered Setchem. "The storm howled sowildly, and I am so anxious, so frightfully unhappy--as I was beforeyour father died."

  "Then stay with me," said Paaker affectionately, "and lie down on mycouch."

  "I did not come here to sleep," replied Setchem. "I am too unhappy atall that happened to you on the larding-steps, it is frightful! No, no,my son, it is not about your smashed hand, though it grieves me to seeyou in pain; it is about the king, and his anger when he hears of thequarrel. He favors you less than he did your lost father, I know itwell. But how wildly you smile, how wild you looked when I came in! Itwent through my bones and marrow."

  Both were silent for a time, and listened to the furious raging ofthe storm. At last Setchem spoke. "There is something else," she said,"which disturbs my mind. I cannot forget the poet who spoke at thefestival to-day, young Pentaur. His figure, his face, his movements, nayhis very voice, are exactly like those of your father at the time whenhe was young, and courted me. It is as if the Gods were fain to see thebest man that they ever took to themselves, walk before them a secondtime upon earth."

  "Yes, my lady," said the black slave; "no mortal eye ever saw such alikeness. I saw him fighting in front of the paraschites' cottage, andhe was more like my dead master than ever. He swung the tent-post overhis head, as my lord used to swing his battle-axe."

  "Be silent," cried Paaker, "and get out-idiot! The priest is like myfather; I grant it, mother; but he is an insolent fellow, who offendedme grossly, and with whom I have to reckon--as with many others."

  "How violent you are!" interrupted his mother, "and how full ofbitterness and hatred. Your father was so sweet-tempered, and kind toeverybody."

  "Perhaps they are kind to me?" retorted Paaker with a short laugh. "Eventhe Immortals spite me, and throw thorns in my path. But I will pushthem aside with my own hand, and will attain what I desire without thehelp of the Gods and overthrow all that oppose me."

  "We cannot blow away a feather without the help of the Immortals,"answered Setchem. "So your father used to say, who was a very differentman both in body and mind from you! I tremble before you this evening,and at the curses you have uttered against the children of your lord andsovereign, your father's best friend."

  "But my enemy," shouted Paaker. "You will get nothing from me butcurses. And the brood of Rameses shall learn whether your husband's sonwill let himself be ill-used and scorned without revenging him self. Iwill fling them into an abyss, and I will laugh when I see them writhingin the sand at my feet!"

  "Fool!" cried Setchem, beside herself. "I am but a woman, and have oftenblamed myself for being soft and weak; but as sure as I am faithfulto your dead father--who you are no more like than a bramble is likea palm-tree--so surely will I tear my love for you out of my heart ifyou--if you--Now I see! now I know! Answer me-murderer! Where are theseven arrows with the wicked words which used to hang here? Where arethe arrows on which you had scrawled 'Death to Mena?'"

  With these words Setchem breathlessly started forward, but the pioneerdrew back as she confronted him, as in his youthful days when shethreatened to punish him for some misdemeanor. She followed him up,caught him by the girdle, and in a hoarse voice repeated her question.He stood still, snatched her hand angrily from his belt, and saiddefiantly:

  "I have put them in my quiver--and not for mere play. Now you know."

  Incapable of words, the maddened woman once more raised her hand againsther degenerate son, but he put back her arm.

  "I am no longer a child," he said, "and I am master of this house. Iwill do what I will, if a hundred women hindered me!" and with thesewords he pointed to the door. Setchem broke into loud sobs, and turnedher back upon him; but at the door once more she turned to look at him.He had seated himself, and was resting his forehead on the table onwhich the bowl of cold water stood.

  Setchem fought a hard battle. At last once more through her chokingtears she called his name, opened her arms wide and exclaimed:

  "Here I am--here I am! Come to my heart, only give up these hideousthoughts of revenge."

  But Paaker did not move, he did not look up at her, he did not speak,he only shook his head in negation. Setchem's hands fell, and she saidsoftly:

  "What did your father teach you out of the scriptures? 'Your highestpraise consists in this, to reward your mother for what she has done foryou, in bringing you up, so that she may not raise her hands to God, norHe hear her lamentation.'"

  At these words, Paaker sobbed aloud, but he did not look at his mother.She called him tenderly by his name; then her eyes fell on his quiver,which lay on a bench with other arms. Her heart shrunk within her, andwith a trembling voice she exclaimed:

  "I forbid this mad vengeanc
e--do you hear? Will you give it up? You donot move? No! you will not! Ye Gods, what can I do?"

  She wrung her hands in despair; then she hastily crossed the room,snatched out one of the arrows, and strove to break it. Paaker sprangfrom his seat, and wrenched the weapon from her hand; the sharp pointslightly scratched the skin, and dark drops of blood flowed from it, anddropped upon the floor.

  The Mohar would have taken the wounded hand, for Setchem, who had theweakness of never being able to see blood flow--neither her own noranybody's else--had turned as pale as death; but she pushed him fromher, and as she spoke her gentle voice had a dull estranged tone.

  "This hand," she said--"a mother's hand wounded by her son--shall neveragain grasp yours till you have sworn a solemn oath to put away from youall thoughts of revenge and murder, and not to disgrace your father'sname. I have said it, and may his glorified spirit be my witness, andgive me strength to keep my word!"

  Paaker had fallen on his knees, and was engaged in a terrible mentalstruggle, while his mother slowly went towards the door. There again shestood still for a moment; she did not speak, but her eyes appealed tohim once more.

  In vain. At last she left the room, and the wind slammed the doorviolently behind her. Paaker groaned, and pressed his hand over hiseyes.

  "Mother, mother!" he cried. "I cannot go back--I cannot."

  A fearful gust of wind howled round the house, and drowned his voice,and then he heard two tremendous claps, as if rocks had been hurled fromheaven. He started up and went to the window, where the melancholy greydawn was showing, in order to call the slaves. Soon they came troopingout, and the steward called out as soon as he saw him:

  "The storm has blown down the masts at the great gate!"

  "Impossible!" cried Paaker.

  "Yes, indeed!" answered the servant. "They have been sawn through closeto the ground. The matmaker no doubt did it, whose collar-bone wasbroken. He has escaped in this fearful night."

  "Let out the dogs," cried the Mohar. "All who have legs run after theblackguard! Freedom, and five handfuls of gold for the man who bringshim back."

  The guests at the House of Seti had already gone to rest, when Ameni wasinformed of the arrival of the sorceress, and he at once went into thehall, where Ani was waiting to see her; the Regent roused himself from adeep reverie when he heard the high-priest's steps.

  "Is she come?" he asked hastily; when Ameni answered in the affirmativeAni went on meanwhile carefully disentangling the disordered curls ofhis wig, and arranging his broad, collar-shaped necklace:

  "The witch may exercise some influence over me; will you not give meyour blessing to preserve me from her spells? It is true, I have on methis Houss'-eye, and this Isis-charm, but one never knows."

  "My presence will be your safe-guard," said Ameni. "But-no, of courseyou wish to speak with her alone. You shall be conducted to a room,which is protected against all witchcraft by sacred texts. My brother,"he continued to one of the serving-priests, "let the witch be takeninto one of the consecrated rooms, and then, when you have sprinkled thethreshold, lead my lord Ani thither."

  The high-priest went away, and into a small room which adjoined the hallwhere the interview between the Regent and the old woman was about totake place, and where the softest whisper spoken in the larger roomcould be heard by means of an ingeniously contrived and invisible tube.

  When Ani saw the old woman, he started back is horror; her appearance atthis moment was, in fact, frightful. The storm had tossed and torn hergarment and tumbled all her thick, white hair, so that locks of it fellover her face. She leaned on a staff, and bending far forward lookedsteadily at the Regent; and her eyes, red and smarting from the sandwhich the wind had flung in her face, seemed to glow as she fixed themon his. She looked as a hyaena might when creeping to seize its prey,and Ani felt a cold shiver and he heard her hoarse voice addressinghim to greet him and to represent that he had chosen a strange hour forrequiring her to speak with him.

  When she had thanked him for his promise of renewing her letterof freedom, and had confirmed the statement that Paaker had had alove-philter from her, she parted her hair from off her face--itoccurred to her that she was a woman.

  The Regent sat in an arm-chair, she stood before him; but the strugglewith the storm had tired her old limbs, and she begged Ani to permit herto be seated, as she had a long story to tell, which would put Paakerinto his power, so that he would find him as yielding as wax. TheRegent signed her to a corner of the room, and she squatted down on thepavement.

  When he desired her to proceed with her story, she looked at the floorfor some time in silence, and then began, as if half to herself:

  "I will tell thee, that I may find peace--I do not want, when I die, tobe buried unembalmed. Who knows but perhaps strange things may happenin the other world, and I would not wish to miss them. I want to see himagain down there, even if it were in the seventh limbo of the damned.Listen to me! But, before I speak, promise me that whatever I tell thee,thou wilt leave me in peace, and will see that I am embalmed when I amdead. Else I will not speak."

  Ani bowed consent.

  "No-no," she said. "I will tell thee what to swear 'If I do not keep myword to Hekt--who gives the Mohar into my power--may the Spirits whomshe rules, annihilate me before I mount the throne.' Do not be vexed,my lord--and say only 'Yes.' What I can tell, is worth more than a mereword."

  "Well then--yes!" cried the Regent, eager for the mighty revelation.

  The old woman muttered a few unintelligible words; then she collectedherself, stretched out her lean neck, and asked, as she fixed hersparkling eyes on the man before her:

  "Did'st thou ever, when thou wert young, hear of the singer Beki? Well,look at me, I am she."

  She laughed loud and hoarsely, and drew her tattered robe across herbosom, as if half ashamed of her unpleasing person.

  "Ay!" she continued. "Men find pleasure in grapes by treading themdown, and when the must is drunk the skins are thrown on the dung-hill.Grape-skins, that is what I am--but you need not look at me sopitifully; I was grapes once, and poor and despised as I am now, no onecan take from me what I have had and have been. Mine has been a lifeout of a thousand, a complete life, full to overflowing of joy andsuffering, of love and hate, of delight, despair, and revenge. Only totalk of it raises me to a seat by thy throne there. No, let me be, I amused now to squatting on the ground; but I knew thou wouldst hear me tothe end, for once I too was one of you. Extremes meet in all things--Iknow it by experience. The greatest men will hold out a hand to abeautiful woman, and time was when I could lead you all as with a rope.Shall I begin at the beginning? Well--I seldom am in the mood for itnow-a-days. Fifty years ago I sang a song with this voice of mine; anold crow like me? sing! But so it was. My father was a man of rank, thegovernor of Abydos; when the first Rameses took possession of the thronemy father was faithful to the house of thy fathers, so the new king sentus all to the gold mines, and there they all died--my parents, brothers,and sisters. I only survived by some miracle. As I was handsome and sangwell, a music master took me into his band, brought me to Thebes,and wherever there was a feast given in any great house, Beki wasin request. Of flowers and money and tender looks I had a plentifulharvest; but I was proud and cold, and the misery of my people had mademe bitter at an age when usually even bad liquor tastes of honey. Notone of all the gay young fellows, princes' sons, and nobles, dared totouch my hand. But my hour was to come; the handsomest and noblest manof them all, and grave and dignified too--was Assa, the old Mohar'sfather, and grandfather of Pentaur--no, I should say of Paaker, thepioneer; thou hast known him. Well, wherever I sang, he sat opposite me,and gazed at me, and I could not take my eyes off him, and--thou cansttell the rest! no! Well, no woman before or after me can ever love a manas I loved Assa. Why dost thou not laugh? It must seem odd, too, to hearsuch a thing from the toothless mouth of an old witch. He is dead, longsince dead. I hate him! and yet--wild as it sounds--I believe I love himyet. And he loved me--for two year
s; then he went to the war with Seti,and remained a long time away, and when I saw him again he had courtedthe daughter of some rich and noble house. I was handsome enough still,but he never looked at me at the banquets. I came across him at leasttwenty times, but he avoided me as if I were tainted with leprosy, and Ibegan to fret, and fell ill of a fever. The doctors said it was all overwith me, so I sent him a letter in which there was nothing but thesewords: 'Beki is dying, and would like to see Assa once more,' and in thepapyrus I put his first present--a plain ring. And what was the answer?a handful of gold! Gold--gold! Thou may'st believe me, when I say thatthe sight of it was more torturing to my eyes than the iron with whichthey put out the eyes of criminals. Even now, when I think of it--Butwhat do you men, you lords of rank and wealth, know of a breaking heart?When two or three of you happen to meet, and if thou should'st tell thestory, the most respectable will say in a pompous voice: 'The man actednobly indeed; he was married, and his wife would have complained withjustice if he had gone to see the singer.' Am I right or wrong? I know;not one will remember that the other was a woman, a feeling human being;it will occur to no one that his deed on the one hand saved an hour ofdiscomfort, and on the other wrought half a century of despair. Assaescaped his wife's scolding, but a thousand curses have fallen on himand on his house. How virtuous he felt himself when he had crushed andpoisoned a passionate heart that had never ceased to love him! Ay, andhe would have come if he had not still felt some love for me, if he hadnot misdoubted himself, and feared that the dying woman might once morelight up the fire he had so carefully smothered and crushed out. I wouldhave grieved for him--but that he should send me money, money!--that Ihave never forgiven; that he shall atone for in his grandchild." Theold woman spoke the last words as if in a dream, and without seeming toremember her hearer. Ani shuddered, as if he were in the presence of amad woman, and he involuntarily drew his chair back a little way.

  The witch observed this; she took breath and went on: "You lords, whowalk in high places, do not know how things go on in the depths beneathyou; you do not choose to know.

  "But I will shorten my story. I got well, but I got out of my bedthin and voiceless. I had plenty of money, and I spent it in buying ofeveryone who professed magic in Thebes, potions to recover Assa's lovefor me, or in paying for spells to be cast on him, or for magic drinksto destroy him. I tried too to recover my voice, but the medicines Itook for it made it rougher not sweeter. Then an excommunicated priest,who was famous among the magicians, took me into his house, and there Ilearned many things; his old companions afterwards turned upon him, hecame over here into the Necropolis, and I came with him. When at lasthe was taken and hanged, I remained in his cave, and myself took towitchcraft. Children point their fingers at me, honest men and womenavoid me, I am an abomination to all men, nay to myself. And one onlyis guilty of all this ruin--the noblest gentleman in Thebes--the piousAssa.

  "I had practised magic for several years, and had become learned in manyarts, when one day the gardener Sent, from whom I was accustomed to buyplants for my mixtures--he rents a plot of ground from the temple ofSeti--Sent brought me a new-born child that had been born with six toes;I was to remove the supernumerary toe by my art. The pious mother of thechild was lying ill of fever, or she never would have allowed it; I tookthe screaming little wretch--for such things are sometimes curable. Thenext morning, a few hours after sunrise, there was a bustle in front ofmy cave; a maid, evidently belonging to a noble house, was callingme. Her mistress, she said, had come with her to visit the tomb of herfathers, and there had been taken ill, and had given birth to a child.Her mistress was lying senseless--I must go at once, and help her. Itook the little six-toed brat in my cloak, told my slavegirl to followme with water, and soon found myself--as thou canst guess--at the tombof Assa's ancestors. The poor woman, who lay there in convulsions, washis daughter-in-law Setchem. The baby, a boy, was as sound as a nut,but she was evidently in great danger. I sent the maid with the litter,which was waiting outside, to the temple here for help; the girl saidthat her master, the father of the child, was at the war, but that thegrandfather, the noble Assa, had promised to meet the lady Setchem atthe tomb, and would shortly be coming; then she disappeared with thelitter. I washed the child, and kissed it as if it were my own. Then Iheard distant steps in the valley, and the recollection of the momentwhen I, lying at the point of death, had received that gift of moneyfrom Assa came over me, and then I do not know myself how it happened--Igave the new-born grandchild of Assa to my slave-girl, and told her tocarry it quickly to the cave, and I wrapped the little six-toed babyin my rags and held it in my lap. There I sat--and the minutes seemedhours, till Assa came up; and when he stood before me, grown grey, itis true, but still handsome and upright--I put the gardener's boy, thesix-toed brat, into his very arms, and a thousand demons seemed to laughhoarsely within me. He thanked me, he did not know me, and once more heoffered me a handful of gold. I took it, and I listened as the priest,who had come from the temple, prophesied all sorts of fine things forthe little one, who was born in so fortunate an hour; and then I wentback into my cave, and there I laughed till I cried, though I do notknow that the tears sprang from the laughter.

  "A few days after I gave Assa's grandchild to the gardener, and toldhim the sixth toe had come off; I had made a little wound on his foot totake in the bumpkin. So Assa's grandchild, the son of the Mohar, grewup as the gardener's child, and received the name of Pentaur, and hewas brought up in the temple here, and is wonderfully like Assa; butthe gardener's monstrous brat is the pioneer Paaker. That is the wholesecret."

  Ani had listened in silence to the terrible old woman.

  We are involuntarily committed to any one who can inform us of someabsorbing fact, and who knows how to make the information valuable.It did not occur to the Regent to punish the witch for her crimes; hethought rather of his older friends' rapture when they talked of thesinger Beki's songs and beauty. He looked at the woman, and a coldshiver ran through all his limbs.

  "You may live in peace," he said at last; "and when you die I will seeto your being embalmed; but give up your black arts. You must be rich,and, if you are not, say what you need. Indeed, I scarcely dare offeryou gold--it excites your hatred, as I understand."

  "I could take thine--but now let me go!"

  She got up, and went towards the door, but the Regent called to her tostop, and asked:

  "Is Assa the father of your son, the little Nemu, the dwarf of the ladyKatuti?"

  The witch laughed loudly. "Is the little wretch like Assa or like Beki?I picked him up like many other children."

  "But he is clever!" said Ani.

  "Ay-that he is. He has planned many a shrewd stroke, and is devoted tohis mistress. He will help thee to thy purpose, for he himself has onetoo."

  "And that is--?"

  "Katuti will rise to greatness with thee, and to riches through Paaker,who sets out to-morrow to make the woman he loves a widow."

  "You know a great deal," said Ani meditatively, "and I would ask youone thing more; though indeed your story has supplied the answer--butperhaps you know more now than you did in your youth. Is there in truthany effectual love-philter?"

  "I will not deceive thee, for I desire that thou should'st keep thy wordto me," replied Hekt. "A love potion rarely has any effect, and neverbut on women who have never before loved. If it is given to a womanwhose heart is filled with the image of another man her passion for himonly will grow the stronger."

  "Yet another," said Ani. "Is there any way of destroying an enemy at adistance?"

  "Certainly," said the witch. "Little people may do mean things, andgreat people can let others do things that they cannot do themselves. Mystory has stirred thy gall, and it seems to me that thou dost not lovethe poet Pentaur. A smile! Well then--I have not lost sight of him,and I know he is grown up as proud and as handsome as Assa. He iswonderfully like him, and I could have loved him--have loved as thisfoolish heart had better never have loved. It is strange! In many wom
en,who come to me, I see how their hearts cling to the children of men whohave abandoned them, and we women are all alike, in most things. But Iwill not let myself love Assa's grandchild--I must not. I will injurehim, and help everyone that persecutes him; for though Assa is dead, thewrongs he did me live in me so long as I live myself. Pentaur's destinymust go on its course. If thou wilt have his life, consult with Nemu,for he hates him too, and he will serve thee more effectually than I canwith my vain spells and silly harmless brews. Now let me go home!"

  A few hours later Ameni sent to invite the Regent to breakfast.

  "Do you know who the witch Hekt is?" asked Ani.

  "Certainly--how should I not know? She is the singer Beki--the formerenchantress of Thebes. May I ask what her communications were?"

  Ani thought it best not to confide the secret of Pentaur's birth to thehigh-priest, and answered evasively. Then Ameni begged to be allowedto give him some information about the old woman, and how she had had ahand in the game; and he related to his hearer, with some omissions andvariations--as if it were a fact he had long known--the very story whicha few hours since he had overheard, and learned for the first time. Anifeigned great astonishment, and agreed with the high-priest that Paakershould not for the present be informed of his true origin.

  "He is a strangely constituted man," said Ameni, "and he is notincapable of playing us some unforeseen trick before he has done hispart, if he is told who he is."

  The storm had exhausted itself, and the sky, though covered still withtorn and flying clouds, cleared by degrees, as the morning went on; asharp coolness succeeded the hot blast, but the sun as it mounted higherand higher soon heated the air. On the roads and in the gardens layuprooted trees and many slightly-built houses which had been blowndown, while the tents in the strangers' quarter, and hundreds of lightpalm-thatched roofs, had been swept away.

  The Regent was returning to Thebes, and with him went Ameni, who desiredto ascertain by his own eyes what mischief the whirlwind had done to hisgarden in the city. On the Nile they met Paaker's boat, and Ani causedit and his own to be stopped, while he requested Paaker to visit himshortly at the palace.

  The high-priest's garden was in no respect inferior in beauty and extentto that of the Mohar. The ground had belonged to his family from theremotest generations, and his house was large and magnificent. He seatedhimself in a shady arbor, to take a repast with his still handsome wifeand his young and pretty daughters.

  He consoled his wife for the various damage done by the hurricane,promised the girls to build a new and handsomer clove-cot in the placeof the one which had been blown down, and laughed and joked with themall; for here the severe head of the House of Seti, the grave Superiorof the Necropolis, became a simple man, an affectionate husband, atender father, a judicious friend, among his children, his flowers, andhis birds. His youngest daughter clung to his right arm, and anolder one to his left, when he rose from table to go with them to thepoultry-yard.

  On the way thither a servant announced to him that the Lady Setchemwished to see him.

  "Take her to your mistress," he said.

  But the slave--who held in his hand a handsome gift in money--explainedthat the widow wished to speak with him alone.

  "Can I never enjoy an hour's peace like other men?" exclaimed Ameniannoyed. "Your mistress can receive her, and she can wait with her tillI come. It is true, girls--is it not?--that I belong to you just now,and to the fowls, and ducks, and pigeons?"

  His youngest daughter kissed him, the second patted him affectionately,and they all three went gaily forward. An hour later he requested theLady Setchem to accompany him into the garden.

  The poor, anxious, and frightened woman had resolved on this step withmuch difficulty; tears filled her kind eyes, as she communicated hertroubles to the high-priest.

  "Thou art a wise counsellor," she said, "and thou knowest well how myson honors the Gods of the temple of Seti with gifts and offerings.He will not listen to his mother, but thou hast influence with him. Hemeditates frightful things, and if he cannot be terrified by threats ofpunishment from the Immortals, he will raise his hand against Mena, andperhaps--"

  "Against the king," interrupted Ameni gravely. "I know it, and I willspeak to him."

  "Thanks, oh a thousand thanks!" cried the widow, and she seized thehigh-priests robe to kiss it. "It was thou who soon after his birthdidst tell my husband that he was born under a lucky star, and wouldgrow to be an honor and an ornament to his house and to his country. Andnow--now he will ruin himself in this world, and the next."

  "What I foretold of your son," said Ameni, "shall assuredly befulfilled, for the ways of the Gods are not as the ways of men."

  "Thy words do me good!" cried Setchem. "None can tell what fearfulterror weighed upon my heart, when I made up my mind to come here. Butthou dost not yet know all. The great masts of cedar, which Paaker sentfrom Lebanon to Thebes to bear our banners, and ornament our gateway,were thrown to the ground at sunrise by the frightful wind."

  "Thus shall your son's defiant spirit be broken," said Ameni; "But foryou, if you have patience, new joys shall arise."

  "I thank thee again," said Setchem. "But something yet remains to besaid. I know that I am wasting the time that thou dost devote to thyfamily, and I remember thy saying once that here in Thebes thou wertlike a pack-Horse with his load taken off, and free to wander over agreen meadow. I will not disturb thee much longer--but the Gods sent mesuch a wonderful vision. Paaker would not listen to me, and I went backinto my room full of sorrow; and when at last, after the sun had risen,I fell asleep for a few minutes, I dreamed I saw before me the poetPentaur, who is wonderfully like my dead husband in appearance and invoice. Paaker went up to him, and abused him violently, and threatenedhim with his fist; the priest raised his arms in prayer, just as I sawhim yesterday at the festival--but not in devotion, but to seize Paaker,and wrestle with him. The struggle did not last long, for Paaker seemedto shrink up, and lost his human form, and fell at the poet's feet--notmy son, but a shapeless lump of clay such as the potter uses to makejars of."

  "A strange dream!" exclaimed Ameni, not without agitation. "A verystrange dream, but it bodes you good. Clay, Setchem, is yielding, andclearly indicates that which the Gods prepare for you. The Immortalswill give you a new and a better son instead of the old one, but it isnot revealed to me by what means. Go now, and sacrifice to the Gods, andtrust to the wisdom of those who guide the life of the universe, and ofall mortal creatures. Yet--I would give you one more word of advice. IfPaaker comes to you repentant, receive him kindly, and let me know; butif he will not yield, close your rooms against him, and let him departwithout taking leave of you."

  When Setchem, much encouraged, was gone away, Ameni said to himself:

  "She will find splendid compensation for this coarse scoundrel, andshe shall not spoil the tool we need to strike our blow. I have oftendoubted how far dreams do, indeed, foretell the future, but to-day myfaith in them is increased. Certainly a mother's heart sees farther thanthat of any other human being."

  At the door of her house Setchem came up with her son's chariot.They saw each other, but both looked away, for they could not meetaffectionately, and would not meet coldly. As the horses outran thelitter-bearers, the mother and son looked round at each other, theireyes met, and each felt a stab in the heart.

  In the evening the pioneer, after he had had an interview with theRegent, went to the temple of Seti to receive Ameni's blessing on allhis undertakings. Then, after sacrificing in the tomb of his ancestors,he set out for Syria.

  Just as he was getting into his chariot, news was brought him that themat-maker, who had sawn through the masts at the gate, had been caught.

  "Put out his eyes!" he cried; and these were the last words he spoke ashe quitted his home.

  Setchem looked after him for a long time; she had refused to bid himfarewell, and now she implored the Gods to turn his heart, and topreserve him from malice and crime.