He followed the procession through the forest of pillars shaped like lotus and papyrus reeds. They stopped before a high, gold-leafed plinth. Horus-Semnet looked up in awe. Upon it stood a gold statue of Bast so beautiful that Horus-Semnet regretted many of the things he had said or thought. Her arms were crossed on her chest. In one hand she held a flail. In the other, a sistrum. Over her head was a sunlike halo incised with the head of a lion, her sister-goddess. At the feet of the statue was another pedestal, this one about breast-high to a man, topped with cool, white marble. From it, a pair of green eyes blinked at him, winking in the torchlight. Horus-Semnet jumped as its tail switched. It was a black cat, a real one. It squeezed its eyes shut, then opened them wide.
“That is Kasi,” Ti-Bast’s voice said softly in his ear. “Be thankful. She shows you favor. You will have good luck this day.” The high priest bowed low, and the general followed suit.
“She is the Goddess-on-Earth?”
“She is today,” Ti-Bast said, straightening up. “The female cats of the temple occupy this station in turn every month. Kasi is the second-day avatar.”
At the conclusion of the ceremonies the acolyte came to bring Horus-Semnet to the feast. Indeed, the boy in the parade had been correct. Bast’s worshipers were generous with their bounty. Servers came to kneel beside him with platters of fish, meat, roast fowl, wild game, fruit, and sweetmeats enough to fill a warehouse, and poured pitchers of wine and beer enough to flood a river. Dancing girls and musicians entertained the visiting nobles. Cats walked freely around, under and on the tables. Horus-Semnet longed to push them off, but knew it would be frowned upon by his hosts. He didn’t permit animals on the table at home.
The revelry went on long into the night. Horus-Semnet enjoyed himself greatly, but he had not forgotten his mission. In the hour just before dawn he finally located Ti-Bast again. The priest was sitting at ease on the cool flagstones in his small garden with a few of the visiting nobles in court robes and braided wigs, and higher ranking priests in white robes. They were listening to a poet recite his work to music played by a female harpist. The temple cats lounged in laps and arms with an air of entitlement, knowing they were the focus of the festivities. Everyone fed them tidbits or petted them. Their purring was almost as loud as the music. Horus-Semnet was irritated by the spectacle, seeing human beings acting as servants to animals, rather than the other way around. He made his way to the priest’s side and stood gazing down at him.
Ti-Bast was tickling the ribs of a dappled cat that stretched blissfully out to its full length and rumbled its pleasure. “Ah, Prince Horus-Semnet! Listen to that. It is music, is it not?”
“It is pleasant,” the general said, “though it serves no purpose.”
“You are wrong, my friend,” Ti-Bast said, smiling. “That is the most important thing they do. Sit down. Have a sweetmeat.”
“No, thank you,” Horus-Semnet said stiffly. “You said that I would have good fortune this day. May I return to pharaoh and tell him you will prepare for war?”
“I will order the soldiers to arms,” Ti-Bast said offhandedly. “We are prepared. This you may tell pharaoh.”
Horus-Semnet frowned. Why wouldn’t the man take the threat of invasion seriously? He and all his kind would die! “He won’t like it. Holy one, you do not understand. These barbarians are not like us. They will torture and kill anyone who resists them. They will kill women and children. And they will kill the cats! To you they are Bastet’s beloved, but to them they are only animals. Nuisances.”
Even that did not stir Ti-Bast’s ire. The high priest looked up at him, the curious pale eyes reflecting the firelight like the cat’s. “I understand. I will do what is necessary here to keep all of us safe: women, children, and especially the cats. I assure you, it will be enough. Good fortune and success go with you, your highness. I will see you on the other side of victory.”
* * *
The Persians were expected to make landfall any day. Scouts, running back and forth between Thebes and the outposts, reported that the gigantic force was advancing across the sea. Horus-Semnet and his commanders made a final survey of the cities and towns of Lower Egypt, seeing to their readiness. Pharaoh’s navy, numbering over a thousand ships, massed just south of the many mouths of the Nile. The enemy would be hard pressed to come in by water. Pharaoh himself would lead the naval defense, on a great warship propelled by two hundred rowers.
The land battle was in the care of Horus-Semnet, and was more difficult to coordinate. The army could not cover the entire frontier. All they could do was to guard the most likely passes and stretches of open desert, and leave scouts on watch in the others. In the meantime, the army prepared for battle. Soldiers trained and drilled until they could do their maneuvers in their sleep. Storesmasters stockpiled armor, food, arrows, spare axles and wheels for the chariots. Trainers readied the horses, dogs and fighting leopards. Metalsmiths and tanners burned torches night after night seeing to the armor and weapons. His scribes kept lists. The general vowed all would be as ready as could be.
A messenger stumbled into the room, kneeling exhausted at Horus-Semnet’s feet.
“General, I have word from General Het-heret. A force is coming over the desert from the east. It is three times greater than that coming by sea. The Hittites have joined the battle.”
Horus-Semnet sprang up. “Carrion-eaters,” he snarled. “Haret, what is the condition of the eastern cities?”
“Kantir is prepared, my lord,” the scribe said. “They have plenty of food and water, unless the battle goes on too long. Tanis is withdrawing all its women and children upstream. Bubastis…”
Horus-Semnet looked up at the nervous tone of the scribe’s voice. “What about Bubastis?”
“The messenger from the temple said they are gathering cats, lord,” the little man said.
* * *
“General, we are honored by your presence!” Ti-Bast said, greeting him at the temple pylon gate. “What fine armor! What glorious weapons! You look quite splendid.”
Horus-Semnet stepped down from his chariot. He took the messenger’s report from his belt pouch. “What good is this? I told you to fortify the city! The enemy is less than a day away!”
“And we are fortifying it, my lord,” Ti-Bast assured him. “Look around you.”
And Horus-Semnet did. The city was certainly in motion. Men, women and children hurried toward the temple bringing baskets and bags, all squirming, writhing and squealing. “Hurry, hurry!” priests and acolytes chided them. “Get them inside. We must gather ten thousand as quickly as possible!”
Ti-Bast steeered him into the courtyard. “Do you see?” he asked.
Every space within the temple environs was covered with cloths or cushions. On each, a man, woman or child had between one and five cats arrayed about his or her lap, in their arms or on their shoulders. The humans offered them bits of food, but mostly they stroked, caressed and praised their feline companions, over and over again, trying to calm them down. The animals cried, hissed and protested.
“What is this nonsense?” Horus-Semnet shouted. “Cats? Where are your soldiers, your weapons?”
“Hush!” Ti-Bast said hastily. “Do not upset the sacred ones. They must be willing to aid in our defense, and they can only do it if they are happy.”
“What are you talking about? They cannot make arrows or sharpen swords!”
Ti-Bast’s face became very severe. “Not all parts of the battle are fought with weapons, Prince Horus-Semnet.”
The general was aggravated. The enemy was within a day’s ride, and he was wasting his time.
Two shaved-headed attendants carried a litter into the center of the courtyard and set it down. On it Horus-Semnet recognized the swathed shape of the Eye of Bastet.
“I must take care of this, my prince,” Ti-Bast said. “May the goddess be with you on the battlefield. Ma
y she guard your back and be as another spear in your hand.”
As Horus-Semnet watched, the high priest approached the litter. He pulled off the cloth, revealing a pyramidal pedestal of purest alabaster. Set into this base was a glittering, translucent beryl sphere. It was the largest single gemstone Horus-Semnet had ever seen. Draped across the top of the orb was a band of gold cut into the shape of a pointed oval, the pupil of the eye of Bastet. As it was revealed, a palpable sense of peace began to steal outward. Cats fighting with their neighbors stopped hissing and allowed themselves to be calmed. They began to purr.
This was suicide. Horus-Semnet strode out of the temple. He must lead pharaoh’s army to battle.
* * *
The charging chariots of the Egyptian army engaged their Hittite and Persian foes on the open desert less than half a day’s ride from the eastern edge of the city. The messenger had been right about their numbers. The enemy was like a tide surging toward them, gleaming weapons whitecaps on the waves. Horus-Semnet could tell immediately that even with the temple guards added to his number that he had too few men behind him. They had been fooled by the early reports. Most of the fighting force was with Sheshonk on the Nile. He despatched runners, but it was unlikely that reinforcements would come in time to help.
“No matter!” he cried to his captains. “We are the chosen of the gods! We will just have to kill six men each before we are evenly matched!” They cheered, rallying their men.
The enemy thundered toward them across the flat gray-yellow scree. Horus-Semnet hefted his first spear and flung it. There was a cry from the Persian chariots as the man it struck fell down among the threshing hooves of the horses. First blood! It was a good omen. He could use many such.
Wheeling, turning, stabbing. Flanking, slashing, chopping. Horus-Semnet ordered his forces into positions where they could do the most damage. His men fought doggedly. They were all trained to the highest degree, but they were badly outnumbered. As each of his soldiers fell the gap was too quickly filled by enemy soldiers, forcing those nearby to withdraw a step to protect their exposed right sides. The Egyptians found themselves being pushed ever farther backward. To the southwest lay Bubastis, defenseless but for their thinning line. Its riches called to the enemy. Pharaoh would be angry if his favorite temple fell to the hated Persians. There was nothing that Horus-Semnet could do but fight on and on. The ground under their feet gradually changed from sand to rock to plowed fields. They were being forced onto the fertile fields around the delta city.
“What’s that?” one of his captains shouted to him.
Horus-Semnet paused, hefting a spear in his hand. He heard a loud buzzing behind him. A sandstorm must be brewing. They were rare in the eastern desert, but devastating in their ferocity. His army would be lucky to live out the day, pinched between the enemy in front and a scouring, raging wind behind.
A glimpse behind him showed that he was within sight of Bubastis. Two chariots came up to flank him, engaging his bodyguards as a Persian general galloped up to do battle with him. Horus-Semnet recognized the gray-tan skin stretched over spare bones, the leopard skin slung over his left shoulder. It was Tamilosheren, of the royal house. Horus-Semnet grimly drew his bronze sword. The foreigner was known as a fearless fighter and a worthy foe. He was honored by the battle offered, but it would be hard to win.
Their chariots circled one another as their swords clashed. Horus-Semnet could almost feel the walls of the city drawing ever closer to his back. Tamilosheren was a focused swordsman, his weapon darting toward every opening. Horus-Semnet gasped as the enemy slashed his arm. Blood ran down into his hand, making his sword hilt slip.
Suddenly, unexpectedly, the Persian general froze, his mouth dropping open as he stared forward. Horus-Semnet took the opportunity of his enemy’s distraction to hack off his head. The body dropped, and Horus-Semnet looked back over his shoulder at what had taken his enemy’s attention off their fight. His own mouth fell open.
Rising from the temple was a pillar of amber light five hundred feet high. In it was the figure of a beautiful woman. But not any woman. She had the head and paws of a great cat. It was Bastet come to life! She was translucent as glass, but he did not mistake that she was not there. She was, by his hope of an afterlife, she was! He wanted to drop to his knees and pray.
Some of the enemy screamed and fled at the appearance of the gigantic cat goddess, but not enough. The Persians pressed on ever more grimly, killing and maiming, though with one eye on the huge figure looming over them.
The Egyptian army had lost more than half its number. Horus-Semnet mustered his diminishing force, fighting for every inch of ground. Just when he feared the Persians would break through at last, the goddess reached out to help them. Her gleaming gold and amber eyes fixed on the enemy. Her claws like spears reached out to hook men out of their chariots and cast them down. The very ground swirled up around them, consuming the enemy, swallowing up soldiers, chariots, horses and all. The screaming in the air was more than the wind. It bore the sounds of dying men to Horus-Semnet’s ears. He squinted through the blasting sand as the golden figure of the goddess leaned over them, blotting out the sky. She reached out her great paws, raking and raking toward her, purposefully digging into the desert to the east of the delta. She dragged sand over her enemy, scraping it over them, burying them deep with disdainful paws. Horus-Semnet was blinded and deafened by the storm.
“Bast, save us!” he gasped.
An eternity later the wind died down. Above the general’s head the figure of the goddess slimmed into a pillar of fire and shrank down behind the temple walls. Horus-Semnet clutched the shoulder of his charioteer. The man’s face was pale under its covering of dust. He must have looked the same. The general glanced around. His soldiers and those of the temple stood alone on plowed earth that bore furrows the same shape as scratches from Her giant claws. Every trace of the enemy was gone, and so was the sand.
* * *
By sunset, the general and the remnants of his troops limped exhaustedly into the temple environs. A deafening roaring met them. Horus-Semnet recoiled. Was it the sandstorm? No, it was the sound of ten thousand cats purring! The animals blinked up lazily at him, and their human attendants stared in wonder. It seemed as though no time had passed here at all.
Priests and lay people alike leaped up, calling them heroes, bringing them water, oil, bandages and food. The cats wound around them, bidding them welcome. Ti-Bast and his priests saw to Horus-Semnet’s wound with their own hands. The soldiers could talk of nothing but the miracle that had occurred.
“Every single man, gone!” a captain said, flicking his hands. “It was a miracle!”
A well-orchestrated miracle, Horus-Semnet thought, glancing toward the Eye of Bastet. It was glowing golden-orange, the color of the giant Bastet’s aegis.
By the time he was well enough to join the celebrants at a ritual of thanksgiving the Eye had faded until it was a pale gold, the color of sand. With much ceremony the priests gathered it up, veiled it and carried it into the inner temple.
“If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I would not have believed it possible,” Horus-Semnet said, marveling as he followed. He knelt before the jeweled figure of the cat goddess, and offered his sword as a sacrifice. “I give thanks to great Bast for the blessing of a successful battle.”
Ti-Bast held it and bowed toward the altar, but turned and handed it back to the general. “She thanks you but returns it that you may use this claw in her service.”
“I shall.” The black cat lounging on the plinth below the statue blinked its green eyes at him. She purred luxuriously. “My thanks to you, great goddess, and to you, for the miracle of your purring, O Kasi.”
“That is Laila,” Ti-Bast said severely. “She is the twenty-first-day cat. Can you not tell the difference?”
“Forgive me,” Horus-Semnet said, bowing low. “Forgive one who is not versed
in the subtleties of the chosen ones, but who is a convert from this day forward.”
Ti-Bast opened his large, unblinking eyes so much like the cats’. “The goddess is pleased to hear you say so, Prince Horus-Semnet. But, of course, she is not surprised. All humans fall into the service of the She-Cat sooner or later. There are simply those who recognize it from the first, and those who do not.”
Peggy Ross settled one hip on the arm of the chair beside Shalimar’s carpeted pedestal, and put the dish down in front of the cat.
“Fresh tuna, sweetheart,” she cooed. “Mama found nice steaks on sale at Wright’s. All mashed up, just for you.”
The white chinchilla Persian opened her eyes from the squat-in-the-sun squint and looked at the dish, pretending disdain at its contents. Peggy felt a surge of affection for the cat.
“Oh, come on,” she said, pushing the dish a little closer and shaking it. “You love tuna. Taste it. For Mama.”
The cat stretched out her neck and nibbled a little of the food. Suddenly, she lurched to her feet, hunched over the plate, and began to wolf the fish with gusto. Peggy watched her fondly, reaching out occasionally to stroke the long fur. She adored it when Shalimar enjoyed a treat.
The cat finished eating and went back to her nap. She spent her days on specially made perches that were adjustable and movable so she could have the best sun at the best times of day, no matter what the season. Peggy Ross liked to make certain that her cat had the best of all things. Sometimes, her husband Ralph joked that he was afraid he came a distant second to Shalimar in Peggy’s heart. Peggy always laughed at that.
Cats Triumphant Page 12
