by G. A. Henty
“That is certainly the best plan,” Amuba agreed. “There are too many who know Chebron by sight for it to be safe for him to go down to the boat here and embark in broad daylight. I will take two hours’ sleep before I start; for as I did not sleep last night, and have walked forty miles since I left the chariot, I feel in need of a little repose before I start again. I was foolish not to have slept this afternoon, for I have since midday been hiding near; but there was so much to think about that I had no inclination to do so, especially as I believed that we would have a night’s rest here.”
“I will wake you,” Chebron said. “I have been asleep the better part of the day, having had nothing to do since we arrived here yesterday evening.”
Chebron sat watching the stars until he saw that they had made two hours’ journey through the sky. Then he roused Amuba. Both now laid aside their garments as peasants and put on the attire prepared for them as the sons of a small trader. Amuba had submitted, although with much disgust, to have his head shaved on the night following the death of Ameres, and it was a satisfaction to him to put on a wig; for, accustomed as he was to see the bare heads of the peasants, it was strange and uncomfortable to him to be going about in the same fashion.
As soon as they were dressed they started, made their way down to the bank of the river above the town, and walked along the broad causeway by the stream until within a mile or two of their destination. Then they turned off toward a clump of trees which were visible by the first gleam of dawn a quarter of a mile away. Here they slept for some hours, and late in the afternoon returned to the side of the river and strolled quietly along, watching the boats. Those in the middle of the stream were making their way down with the current lightly and easily, the crews often singing merrily, rejoicing over the approaching meeting with their friends after an absence of many weeks. The boats going up the stream were all close to the bank, the crews walking along the causeway and laboring at the towropes, for there was not enough wind to render the sails of any utility in breasting the stream. The craft were of various kinds, some shapeless and rudely fashioned, used in conveying corn from the country higher up down to Thebes, and now returning empty. Others were the fancifully painted boats of the wealthy, with comfortable cabins and sails of many colors richly decorated and embroidered. These were carrying their owners up or down the river, between their country mansions and the city.
It was half an hour after sunset when the two friends arrived at Mita. Darkness falls quickly in Egypt after the sun has gone down, and their features could scarcely have been recognized had they been met by any one acquainted with them in the streets. The scene in the streets of the little village was a busy one. Its distance from Thebes rendered it a general halting-place for the night of the boats which had left the capital early, and a great number of these were already moored off the bank, while others were arriving in quick succession. The boatmen and passengers were busy making their purchases at the shops; fishermen, with well-filled baskets, were shouting the praises of their fish; fowlers, with strings of ducks and geese hanging from poles from their shoulders, were equally clamorous in offering them for sale.
The shops of the fruiterers and bakers and those of the venders of the vegetables that formed so large a portion of the diet of the Egyptians were all crowded, and the wine shops were doing a brisk business.
Chebron and Amuba made their way through the busy scene, keeping a sharp lookout for Jethro, for they considered it certain that owing to the early start the boat was to make it would have arrived there some hours before, and that he would be on the lookout for them. In a few minutes they saw him looking into one of the shops. He started as they went up to him and touched him, for he had not perceived them before.
“All well?” Amuba asked.
“Everything has gone off admirably. We got off without the slightest trouble. But come on board at once; the girls are anxious about you, although I assured them that there was not the slightest risk of your being discovered on your way here.”
So saying, Jethro led the way to the boat, which was moored by the bank a hundred yards above the village, “in order,” Jethro said, “that they could make an early start in the morning, and be off before the rest of the boats were under way.”
“Here are your brothers,” Jethro said in a loud voice as he stepped on board. “I found them dawdling and gossiping in the street, forgetting altogether that you were waiting for your evening meal until they came on board.”
Both entered the cabin, which was about eight feet wide and twelve feet long, but not high enough for them to stand upright. The floor was spread with a thick carpet; cushions and pillows were arranged along each side, and thick matting hung from the top. In the daytime this was rolled up and fastened, so that the air could play through the cabin and those within could look out at the river; but at present it closed the openings and kept out both the night air and the glances of passers-by. At the other end was a door opening into the smaller cabin allotted to the girls. A lamp swung from the beams overhead. Mysa gave a cry of pleasure as they entered and was about to spring to her feet, when Jethro exclaimed:
“Mind your head, child! You are not accustomed to these low quarters yet.”
“Thank the gods we are together again!” Mysa said as Chebron, after embracing her, sat down on the cushion beside her. “I feel almost happy now, in spite of the dreadful times that have passed.”
“It does feel homelike here,” Chebron said, looking round, “especially after sleeping in the open air on the hard ground, as we have been doing for the last month.”
“I should hardly have known you, Amuba,” Mysa said. “You do look so different in your wig, and with your skin darkened.”
“I must look horrible,” Amuba replied rather ruefully.
“You don’t look so nice,” Mysa replied frankly. “I used at first to think that short, wavy golden hair of yours was strange, and that you would look better in a wig like other people; but now I am sorry it is gone.”
“Here is our meal,” Jethro said as the hangings that served as a door were drawn aside, and one of the men entered bearing a dish of fried fish and another of stewed ducks, which he placed on the floor.
Jethro produced some cups and a jar of wine from a locker in the cabin, and then the men, by his orders, brought in a jar of water for the use of the girls. Then sitting round the dishes they began their meal, Jethro cutting up the food with his dagger, and all helping themselves with the aid of their fingers and pieces of bread, that served them for the purpose of forks. Mysa had been accustomed always to the use of a table; but these were only used in the abodes of the rich, and the people in general sat on the ground to their meals.
“We have not begun our hardships yet,” Mysa said, smiling. “I should not mind how long this went on. I call this much better than living in a house; don’t you, Ruth?”
“It is more natural to me than that great house of yours,” Ruth replied;. “and of course to me it is far more homelike and comfortable. For I do not think I was a favorite among the other servants; they were jealous of the kindness you showed me.”
“There is one thing I wanted to say,” Jethro said. “It is better that we should not call each other by our names, I am sure that the boatmen have no suspicion here that we are other than what we seem to be; but they can hardly help hearing our names, for all Egypt has rung with them for the last month, and it would be well if we change them for the present. You must of necessity call me father, since that is the relation I am supposed to bear to you. Amuba can become Amnis and Chebron Chefu.”
“And I will be Mytis,” Mysa said. “What name will you take, Ruth? There is no Egyptian name quite like yours.”
“It matters not what you call me,” Ruth said.
“We will call you Nite,” Mysa said. “I had a great friend of that name, but she died.”
“And there is one thing, Nite,” Chebron said, “that I wish you to understand. Just now you spoke to me as my
lord Chebron. That sort of thing must not be any longer. We are all fugitives together, and Mysa and I have no longer any rank. Jethro and Amuba are of high rank in their own country, and if we ever get safely to their own people they will be nobles in the land, while we shall be but strangers, as he was when he and Jethro came into Egypt. Therefore any talk of rank among us is but folly. We are fugitives, and my life is forfeited if I am discovered in my own land. Jethro is our leader and guardian, alike by the will of our father and because he is older and wiser than any of us. Amuba is as my elder brother, being stronger and braver and more accustomed to danger than I; while you and Mysa are sisters, inasmuch as you are both exiled from your own land, and are friendless, save for each other and us.”
“I am glad to hear you say that, brother,” Mysa said. “I spoke to her last night about it, for she would insist on treating me as if she were still my servant; which is absurd, and not nice of her, when she is going out with us to share our dangers only because she loves me. It is I rather who should look up to her, for I am very helpless, and know nothing of work or real life, while she can do all sorts of things; besides, when we were captives it was she who was always brave and hopeful, and kept up my spirits when, I do think, if it had not been for her I should have died of grief and terror.”
“By the way,” Jethro said, “we have not heard yet how it was that you were together. We heard of your being carried off, but old Lyptis told me that no one had seen aught of you.”
“They were all scared out of their senses,” Ruth said scornfully. “The men suddenly ran into the room and seized Mysa, and twisted a shawl round her head before she had time to call out. I screamed, and one of them struck me a blow which knocked me down. Then they carried her off. I think I was stunned for a moment. When I recovered I found they were gone. I jumped up and ran along the passage and through the hall, where the women were screaming and crying, and then out of the house through the garden, and out of the gate. Then I saw four men at a short distance off carrying Mysa to a cart standing a hundred yards away. I ran up just as they laid her in it. One of them turned upon me with a dagger. I said:
“‘Let me go with her, and I will be quiet. If not, I will scream; and if you kill me, it will only set the people on your traces.’
“The men hesitated, and I ran past them and climbed into the cart, and threw myself down by Mysa, and then they drove off.”
“It was brave and good of you, Ruth,” Jethro said, laying his hand on the girl’s shoulder;. “but why did you not scream when you first came out of the gate? It might have brought aid and prevented Mysa from being carried off.”
“I thought of that,” Ruth said, “but there were numbers of rough men still coming in at the gate; and knowing how the people had been stirred up to anger against us, I did not know what might happen if I gave the alarm. Besides, I was not sure at first that these men, although they seemed so rough and violent, were not really friends, who were taking away Mysa to save her from the popular fury.”
“Yes, that might have been the case,” Jethro agreed. “At any rate, child, you acted bravely and well. We were hoping all along that you were with Mysa, for we knew what a comfort you would be to her. Only, as the women all declared you did not pass out after her, we did not see how that could be. And now, Mytis and Nite, you had better retire to your own cabin to rest; for though you have both kept up wonderfully, all this has been a great strain for you, and you are both looking fagged and heavy-eyed. Tonight you can sleep in comfort; for, for the present, I think that there is no occasion whatever for the slightest anxiety.”
It was some time before Jethro and his companions lay down to sleep. They talked long and earnestly of the journey that lay before them; and when they had exhausted this topic, Chebron said:
“Till now, Jethro, I have not asked you about my father’s funeral. When is it to be? I have thought of it often, but as you did not speak I thought it better not to question you.”
“I was glad you did not,” Jethro replied. “It will be in about ten days’ time. As I believed you guessed, Chigron is embalming him; the process will not be completed for another four days, and, as you know, the relatives do not see the corpse after it is in the hands of the embalmer until it is swathed and in the coffin. Chigron has done so much that must have been against his conscience that I did not like him to be asked to allow you to break through that custom, which to him is a sort of religion; beside, dear lad, I thought it better for yourself not to renew your griefs by gazing on a lifeless face.
“During the last month you have fortunately had so much to distract your thoughts that you have not had time to dwell upon your loss. Moreover, you have needed all your strength and your energy for your search for your sister, and right sure am I that your father, who was as sensible as he was wise—and the two things do not always go together—would be far better pleased to see you energetic and active in your search for your sister and in preparation for this new life on which we are entering, than in vain regrets for him; therefore, lad, for every reason I thought it better to keep silent upon the subject. It may be a satisfaction, however, for you to know that everything will be done to do honor to the dead.
“The king and all the great men of Egypt will be present, and Thebes will turn out its thousands to express its grief for the deed done by a section of its population. Had it not been for the express commands of your father I should have thought that it might have been worth while for you to present yourself on that occasion and it may be that for once even the fanatics would have been satisfied to have pardoned the offense of the son because of the wrong done to the father. However, this affair of Ptylus puts that out of the question, for when it is generally known that Mysa was carried off when Ptylus was slain, public opinion will arrive at the truth and say that the fugitives of whom they were in search, the slayers of the sacred cat, were the rescuers of the daughter of Ameres and the slayers of the high priest.”
“You are right, Jethro, it will be better for me not to have seen my father; I can always think of him now as I saw him last, which is a thousand times better than if he dwelt in my memory as he lies in the cere-clothes in the embalming room of Chigron. As to what you say about my appearing at the funeral, I would in no case have done it; I would a thousand times rather live an exile or meet my death at the hands of savages than crave mercy at the hands of the mob of Thebes, and live to be pointed at all my life as the man who had committed the abhorred offense of killing the sacred cat.”
The conversation in the cabin had all been carried on in an undertone; for although through an opening in the curtains they could see the crew—who had been eating their meal by the light of a torch of resinous wood, and were now wrapped up in thick garments to keep off the night dew—chatting merrily together and occasionally breaking into snatches of song, it was prudent to speak so that not even a chance word should be overheard. The boatmen, indeed, were in high spirits. Their home lay far up near the borders of Upper Egypt, and it was seldom indeed that they obtained a job which gave them the chance of visiting their friends. Thus the engagement was most satisfactory to them, for although their leader had haggled over the terms, he and they would gladly have accepted half the rate of pay rather than let such an opportunity slip. As Chebron finished speaking they were preparing for the night by laying down a few mats on the boards of the fore deck. Then they huddled closely together, pulled another mat or two over them, extinguished the torch, and composed themselves to sleep.
“We will follow their example; but a little more comfortably, I hope,” Jethro said.
The cushions and pillows were arranged, the lamp turned low, and in a short time all on board the boat were sound asleep. No ray of light had entered the cabin when Amuba was awakened by a movement of the boat, caused by a stir among the crew. He felt his way to the door and threw back the hangings and looked out; there was a faint greenish-yellow light in the east, but the stars were still shining brightly.
“Good-mo
rning, young master!” the captain said. “I hope you have slept well.”
“So well that I could hardly believe it was morning,” Amuba replied. “How long will it be before you are off?”
“We shall be moving in ten minutes; at present there is not light enough to see the shore.”
“Chefu, are you awake?”
“Yes,” Chebron answered sleepily, “I am awake; thanks to your talking. If you had lain quiet we might have slept for another hour yet.”
“You have had plenty of sleep the last twenty-four hours,” Amuba retorted. “Take a cloth and let us land and run along the banks for a mile, and have a bath before the boat comes along.”
“It is very cold for it,” Chebron said.
“Nonsense! The water will refresh you.”
“Come along, Chefu,” Jethro said, “your brother is right; a dip will refresh us for the day.”
The Egyptians were most particular about bathing and washing. The heat and dust of the climate rendered cleanliness an absolute necessity, and all classes took their daily bath—the wealthy in baths attached to their houses, the poor in the water of the lakes or canals. Jethro and the two lads leaped ashore and ran briskly along the bank for about a mile, stripped and took a plunge into the river, and were dressed again just as the boat came along with the four men towing her, and the captain steering with an oar at the stern. It was light enough now for him to distinguish the faces of his passengers, and he brought the boat straight alongside the bank. In a few minutes the girls came out from their cabin, looking fresh and rosy.
“So you have been bathing?” Mysa said. “We heard what you were saying, and we have had our bath too.”
“How did you manage that?” Chebron asked.
“We went out by the door at the other side of our cabin in our woollen robes, on to that little platform on which the man is standing to steer, and poured jars of water over each other.”
