{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_2763/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_2763","id":"gutenberg_2763","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/2763","summary":null,"tags":["Adventure stories","Category: British Literature","Category: Historical Novels","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Novels","Fantasy fiction","Greece -- Fiction","Helen, of Troy, Queen of Sparta -- Fiction","Odysseus, King of Ithaca (Mythological character) -- Fiction"],"text":"The World\u2019s Desire\n\nby H. Rider Haggard and Andrew Lang\n\n\nContents\n\n PREFACE\n\n BOOK I.\n CHAPTER I. THE SILENT ISLE\n CHAPTER II. THE VISION OF THE WORLD\u2019S DESIRE\n CHAPTER III. THE SLAYING OF THE SIDONIANS\n CHAPTER IV. THE BLOOD-RED SEA\n CHAPTER V. MERIAMUN THE QUEEN\n CHAPTER VI. THE STORY OF MERIAMUN\n CHAPTER VII. THE QUEEN\u2019S VISION\n CHAPTER VIII. THE KA, THE BAI, AND THE KHOU\n\n BOOK II.\n CHAPTER I. THE PROPHETS OF THE APURA\n CHAPTER II. THE NIGHT OF DREAD\n CHAPTER III. THE BATHS OF BRONZE\n CHAPTER IV. THE QUEEN\u2019S CHAMBER\n CHAPTER V. THE CHAPEL PERILOUS\n CHAPTER VI. THE WARDENS OF THE GATE\n CHAPTER VII. THE SHADOW IN THE SUNLIGHT\n CHAPTER VIII. THE LOOSING OF THE SPIRIT OF REI\n CHAPTER IX. THE WAKING OF THE SLEEPER\n CHAPTER X. THE OATH OF THE WANDERER\n CHAPTER XI. THE WAKING OF THE WANDERER\n\n BOOK III.\n CHAPTER I. THE VENGEANCE OF KURRI\n CHAPTER II. THE COMING OF PHARAOH\n CHAPTER III. THE BED OF TORMENT\n CHAPTER IV. PHARAOH\u2019S DREAM\n CHAPTER V. THE VOICE OF THE DEAD\n CHAPTER VI. THE BURNING OF THE SHRINE\n CHAPTER VII. THE LAST FIGHT OF ODYSSEUS, LAERTES\u2019 SON\n CHAPTER VIII. \u201cTILL ODYSSEUS COMES!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nTo\nW. B. RICHMOND, A.R.A.\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nThe period in which the story of _The World\u2019s Desire_ is cast, was a\nperiod when, as Miss Braddon remarks of the age of the Plantagenets,\n\u201canything might happen.\u201d Recent discoveries, mainly by Dr. Schliemann\nand Mr. Flinders Petrie, have shown that there really was much\nintercourse between Heroic Greece, the Greece of the Achaeans, and the\nEgypt of the Ramessids. This connection, rumoured of in Greek legends,\nis attested by Egyptian relics found in the graves of Mycenae, and by\nvery ancient Levantine pottery, found in contemporary sites in Egypt.\nHomer himself shows us Odysseus telling a feigned, but obviously not\nimprobable, tale of an Achaean raid on Egypt. Meanwhile the sojourn of\nthe Israelites, with their Exodus from the land of bondage, though not\nyet found to be recorded on the Egyptian monuments, was probably part\nof the great contemporary stir among the peoples. These events, which\nare only known through Hebrew texts, must have worn a very different\naspect in the eyes of Egyptians, and of pre-historic Achaean observers,\nhostile in faith to the Children of Israel. The topic has since been\ntreated in fiction by Dr. Ebers, in his _Joshua_. In such a twilight\nage, fancy has free play, but it is a curious fact that, in this\nromance, modern fancy has accidentally coincided with that of ancient\nGreece.\n\nMost of the novel was written, and the apparently \u201cun-Greek\u201d marvels\nattributed to Helen had been put on paper, when a part of Furtw\u00e4ngler\u2019s\nrecent great lexicon of Mythology appeared, with the article on Helen.\nThe authors of _The World\u2019s Desire_ read it with a feeling akin to\namazement. Their wildest inventions about the Daughter of the Swan, it\nseemed, had parallels in the obscurer legends of Hellas. There actually\nis a tradition, preserved by Eustathius, that Paris beguiled Helen by\nmagically putting on the aspect of Menelaus. There is a mediaeval\nparallel in the story of Uther and Ygerne, mother of Arthur, and the\nclassical case of Zeus and Amphitryon is familiar. Again, the\nblood-dripping ruby of Helen, in the tale, is mentioned by Servius in\nhis commentary on Virgil (it was pointed out to one of the authors by\nMr. Mackail). But we did not know that the Star of the story was\nactually called the \u201cStar-stone\u201d in ancient Greek fable. The many\nvoices of Helen are alluded to by Homer in the _Odyssey_: she was also\nnamed _Echo_, in old tradition. To add that she could assume the aspect\nof every man\u2019s first love was easy. Goethe introduces the same quality\nin the fair witch of his _Walpurgis Nacht_. A respectable portrait of\nMeriamun\u2019s secret counsellor exists, in pottery, in the British Museum,\nthough, as it chances, it was not discovered by us until after the\npublication of this romance. The Laestrygonian of the Last Battle is\nintroduced as a pre-historic Norseman. Mr. Gladstone, we think, was\nperhaps the first to point out that the Laestrygonians of the\n_Odyssey_, with their home on a fiord in the Land of the Midnight Sun,\nwere probably derived from travellers\u2019 tales of the North, borne with\nthe amber along the immemorial Sacred Way. The Magic of Meriamun is in\naccordance with Egyptian ideas; her resuscitation of the dead woman,\nHataska, has a singular parallel in Reginald Scot\u2019s _Discovery of\nWitchcraft_ (1584), where the spell \u201cby the silence of the Night\u201d is\nnot without poetry. The general conception of Helen as the World\u2019s\nDesire, Ideal Beauty, has been dealt with by M. Paul de St. Victor, and\nMr. J. A. Symonds. For the rest, some details of battle, and of wounds,\nwhich must seem very \u201cun-Greek\u201d to critics ignorant of Greek\nliterature, are borrowed from Homer.\n\nH. R. H.\nA. L.\n\n\n\n\nTHE WORLD\u2019S DESIRE\n\n\n\n\nCome with us, ye whose hearts are set\nOn this, the Present to forget;\nCome read the things whereof ye know\n_They were not, and could not be so!_\nThe murmur of the fallen creeds,\nLike winds among wind-shaken reeds\nAlong the banks of holy Nile,\nShall echo in your ears the while;\nThe fables of the North and South\nShall mingle in a modern mouth;\nThe fancies of the West and East\nShall flock and flit about the feast\nLike doves that cooled, with waving wing,\nThe banquets of the Cyprian king.\nOld shapes of song that do not die\nShall haunt the halls of memory,\nAnd though the Bow shall prelude clear\nShrill as the song of Gunnar\u2019s spear,\nThere answer sobs from lute and lyre\nThat murmured of The World\u2019s Desire.\n\nThere lives no man but he hath seen\nThe World\u2019s Desire, the fairy queen.\nNone but hath seen her to his cost,\nNot one but loves what he has lost.\nNone is there but hath heard her sing\nDivinely through his wandering;\nNot one but he has followed far\nThe portent of the Bleeding Star;\nNot one but he hath chanced to wake,\nDreamed of the Star and found the Snake.\nYet, through his dreams, a wandering fire,\nStill, still she flits, THE WORLD\u2019S DESIRE!\n\n\n\n\nBOOK I\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\nTHE SILENT ISLE\n\n\nAcross the wide backs of the waves, beneath the mountains, and between\nthe islands, a ship came stealing from the dark into the dusk, and from\nthe dusk into the dawn. The ship had but one mast, one broad brown sail\nwith a star embroidered on it in gold; her stem and stern were built\nhigh, and curved like a bird\u2019s beak; her prow was painted scarlet, and\nshe was driven by oars as well as by the western wind.\n\nA man stood alone on the half-deck at the bows, a man who looked always\nforward, through the night, and the twilight, and the clear morning. He\nwas of no great stature, but broad-breasted and very wide-shouldered,\nwith many signs of strength. He had blue eyes, and dark curled locks\nfalling beneath a red cap such as sailors wear, and over a purple\ncloak, fastened with a brooch of gold. There were threads of silver in\nhis curls, and his beard was flecked with white. His whole heart was\nfollowing his eyes, watching first for the blaze of the island beacons\nout of the darkness, and, later, for the smoke rising from the far-off\nhills. But he watched in vain; there was neither light nor smoke on the\ngrey peak that lay clear against a field of yellow sky.\n\nThere was no smoke, no fire, no sound of voices, nor cry of birds. The\nisle was deadly still.\n\nAs they neared the coast, and neither heard nor saw a sign of life, the\nman\u2019s face fell. The gladness went out of his eyes, his features grew\nolder with anxiety and doubt, and with longing for tidings of his home.\n\nNo man ever loved his home more than he, for this was Odysseus, the son\nof Laertes\u2014whom some call Ulysses\u2014returned from his unsung second\nwandering. The whole world has heard the tale of his first voyage, how\nhe was tossed for ten years on the sea after the taking of Troy, how he\nreached home at last, alone and disguised as a beggar; how he found\nviolence in his house, how he slew his foes in his own hall, and won\nhis wife again. But even in his own country he was not permitted to\nrest, for there was a curse upon him and a labour to be accomplished.\nHe must wander again till he reached the land of men who had never\ntasted salt, nor ever heard of the salt sea. There he must sacrifice to\nthe Sea-God, and then, at last, set his face homewards. Now he had\nendured that curse, he had fulfilled the prophecy, he had angered, by\nmisadventure, the Goddess who was his friend, and after adventures that\nhave never yet been told, he had arrived within a bowshot of Ithaca.\n\nHe came from strange countries, from the Gates of the Sun and from\nWhite Rock, from the Passing Place of Souls and the people of Dreams.\n\nBut he found his own isle more still and strange by far. The realm of\nDreams was not so dumb, the Gates of the Sun were not so still, as the\nshores of the familiar island beneath the rising dawn.\n\nThis story, whereof the substance was set out long ago by Rei, the\ninstructed Egyptian priest, tells what he found there, and the tale of\nthe last adventures of Odysseus, Laertes\u2019 son.\n\nThe ship ran on and won the well-known haven, sheltered from wind by\ntwo headlands of sheer cliff. There she sailed straight in, till the\nleaves of the broad olive tree at the head of the inlet were tangled in\nher cordage. Then the Wanderer, without once looking back, or saying\none word of farewell to his crew, caught a bough of the olive tree with\nhis hand, and swung himself ashore. Here he kneeled, and kissed the\nearth, and, covering his head within his cloak, he prayed that he might\nfind his house at peace, his wife dear and true, and his son worthy of\nhim.\n\nBut not one word of his prayer was to be granted. The Gods give and\ntake, but on the earth the Gods cannot restore.\n\nWhen he rose from his knees he glanced back across the waters, but\nthere was now no ship in the haven, nor any sign of a sail upon the\nseas.\n\nAnd still the land was silent; not even the wild birds cried a welcome.\n\nThe sun was hardly up, men were scarce awake, the Wanderer said to\nhimself; and he set a stout heart to the steep path leading up the\nhill, over the wolds, and across the ridge of rock that divides the two\nmasses of the island. Up he climbed, purposing, as of old, to seek the\nhouse of his faithful servant, the swineherd, and learn from him the\ntidings of his home. On the brow of a hill he stopped to rest, and\nlooked down on the house of the servant. But the strong oak palisade\nwas broken, no smoke came from the hole in the thatched roof, and, as\nhe approached, the dogs did not run barking, as sheep-dogs do, at the\nstranger. The very path to the house was overgrown, and dumb with\ngrass; even a dog\u2019s keen ears could scarcely have heard a footstep.\n\nThe door of the swineherd\u2019s hut was open, but all was dark within. The\nspiders had woven a glittering web across the empty blackness, a sign\nthat for many days no man had entered. Then the Wanderer shouted twice,\nand thrice, but the only answer was an echo from the hill. He went in,\nhoping to find food, or perhaps a spark of fire sheltered under the dry\nleaves. But all was vacant and cold as death.\n\nThe Wanderer came forth into the warm sunlight, set his face to the\nhill again, and went on his way to the city of Ithaca.\n\nHe saw the sea from the hill-top glittering as of yore, but there were\nno brown sails of fisher-boats on the sea. All the land that should now\nhave waved with the white corn was green with tangled weeds. Half-way\ndown the rugged path was a grove of alders, and the basin into which\nwater flowed from the old fountain of the Nymphs. But no maidens were\nthere with their pitchers; the basin was broken, and green with mould;\nthe water slipped through the crevices and hurried to the sea. There\nwere no offerings of wayfarers, rags and pebbles, by the well; and on\nthe altar of the Nymphs the flame had long been cold. The very ashes\nwere covered with grass, and a branch of ivy had hidden the stone of\nsacrifice.\n\nOn the Wanderer pressed with a heavy heart; now the high roof of his\nown hall and the wide fenced courts were within his sight, and he\nhurried forward to know the worst.\n\nToo soon he saw that the roofs were smokeless, and all the court was\ndeep in weeds. Where the altar of Zeus had stood in the midst of the\ncourt there was now no altar, but a great, grey mound, not of earth,\nbut of white dust mixed with black. Over this mound the coarse grass\npricked up scantily, like thin hair on a leprosy.\n\nThen the Wanderer shuddered, for out of the grey mound peeped the\ncharred black bones of the dead. He drew near, and, lo! the whole heap\nwas of nothing else than the ashes of men and women. Death had been\nbusy here: here many people had perished of a pestilence. They had all\nbeen consumed on one funeral fire, while they who laid them there must\nhave fled, for there was no sign of living man. The doors gaped open,\nand none entered, and none came forth. The house was dead, like the\npeople who had dwelt in it.\n\nThen the Wanderer paused where once the old hound Argos had welcomed\nhim and had died in that welcome. There, unwelcomed, he stood, leaning\non his staff. Then a sudden ray of the sun fell on something that\nglittered in the heap, and he touched it with the end of the staff that\nhe had in his hand. It slid jingling from the heap; it was the bone of\na forearm, and that which glittered on it was a half-molten ring of\ngold. On the gold lambda these characters were engraved:\n\n\u0399\u039a\u039c\u0391\u039b\u039f\u03a3 \u039c\u0395\u03a0\u039f\u0399\u03a3\u0395\u039d.\n\n\n(Icmalios made me.)\n\n\nAt the sight of the armlet the Wanderer fell on the earth, grovelling\namong the ashes of the pyre, for he knew the gold ring which he had\nbrought from Ephyre long ago, for a gift to his wife Penelope. This was\nthe bracelet of the bride of his youth, and here, a mockery and a\nterror, were those kind arms in which he had lain. Then his strength\nwas shaken with sobbing, and his hands clutched blindly before him, and\nhe gathered dust and cast it upon his head till the dark locks were\ndefiled with the ashes of his dearest, and he longed to die.\n\nThere he lay, biting his hands for sorrow, and for wrath against God\nand Fate. There he lay while the sun in the heavens smote him, and he\nknew it not; while the wind of the sunset stirred in his hair, and he\nstirred not. He could not even shed one tear, for this was the sorest\nof all the sorrows that he had known on the waves of the sea, or on\nland among the wars of men.\n\nThe sun fell and the ways were darkened. Slowly the eastern sky grew\nsilver with the moon. A night-fowl\u2019s voice was heard from afar, it drew\nnearer; then through the shadow of the pyre the black wings fluttered\ninto the light, and the carrion bird fixed its talons and its beak on\nthe Wanderer\u2019s neck. Then he moved at length, tossed up an arm, and\ncaught the bird of darkness by the neck, and broke it, and dashed it on\nthe ground. His sick heart was mad with the little sudden pain, and he\nclutched for the knife in his girdle that he might slay himself, but he\nwas unarmed. At last he rose, muttering, and stood in the moonlight,\nlike a lion in some ruinous palace of forgotten kings. He was faint\nwith hunger and weak with long lamenting, as he stepped within his own\ndoors. There he paused on that high threshold of stone where once he\nhad sat in the disguise of a beggar, that very threshold whence, on\nanother day, he had shot the shafts of doom among the wooers of his\nwife and the wasters of his home. But now his wife was dead: all his\nvoyaging was ended here, and all his wars were vain. In the white light\nthe house of his kingship was no more than the ghost of a home,\ndreadful, unfamiliar, empty of warmth and love and light. The tables\nwere fallen here and there throughout the long hall; mouldering bones,\nfrom the funeral feast, and shattered cups and dishes lay in one\nconfusion; the ivory chairs were broken, and on the walls the moonbeams\nglistened now and again from points of steel and blades of bronze,\nthough many swords were dark with rust.\n\nBut there, in its gleaming case, lay one thing friendly and familiar.\nThere lay the Bow of Eurytus, the bow for which great Heracles had\nslain his own host in his halls; the dreadful bow that no mortal man\nbut the Wanderer could bend. He was never used to carry this precious\nbow with him on shipboard, when he went to the wars, but treasured it\nat home, the memorial of a dear friend foully slain. So now, when the\nvoices of dog, and slave, and child, and wife were mute, there yet came\nout of the stillness a word of welcome to the Wanderer. For this bow,\nwhich had thrilled in the grip of a god, and had scattered the shafts\nof the vengeance of Heracles, was wondrously made and magical. A spirit\ndwelt within it which knew of things to come, which boded the battle\nfrom afar, and therefore always before the slaying of men the bow sang\nstrangely through the night. The voice of it was thin and shrill, a\nringing and a singing of the string and of the bow. While the Wanderer\nstood and looked on his weapon, hark! the bow began to thrill! The\nsound was faint at first, a thin note, but as he listened the voice of\nit in that silence grew clear, strong, angry and triumphant. In his\nears and to his heart it seemed that the wordless chant rang thus:\n\nKeen and low\n    Doth the arrow sing\nThe Song of the Bow,\n    The sound of the string.\nThe shafts cry shrill:\n    Let us forth again,\nLet us feed our fill\n    On the flesh of men.\nGreedy and fleet\n    Do we fly from far,\nLike the birds that meet\n    For the feast of war,\nTill the air of fight\n    With our wings be stirred,\nAs it whirrs from the flight\n    Of the ravening bird.\nLike the flakes that drift\n    On the snow-wind\u2019s breath,\nMany and swift,\n    And winged for death\u2014\nGreedy and fleet,\n    Do we speed from far,\nLike the birds that meet\n    On the bridge of war.\nFleet as ghosts that wail,\n    When the dart strikes true,\nDo the swift shafts hail,\n    Till they drink warm dew.\nKeen and low\n    Do the grey shafts sing\nThe Song of the Bow,\n    The sound of the string.\n\n\nThis was the message of Death, and this was the first sound that had\nbroken the stillness of his home.\n\nAt the welcome of this music which spoke to his heart\u2014this music he had\nheard so many a time\u2014the Wanderer knew that there was war at hand. He\nknew that the wings of his arrows should be swift to fly, and their\nbeaks of bronze were whetted to drink the blood of men. He put out his\nhand and took the bow, and tried the string, and it answered shrill as\nthe song of the swallow.\n\nThen at length, when he heard the bowstring twang to his touch, the\nfountains of his sorrow were unsealed; tears came like soft rains on a\nfrozen land, and the Wanderer wept.\n\nWhen he had his fill of weeping, he rose, for hunger drove him\u2014hunger\nthat is of all things the most shameless, being stronger far than\nsorrow, or love, or any other desire. The Wanderer found his way\nthrough the narrow door behind the dais, and stumbling now and again\nover fallen fragments of the home which he himself had built, he went\nto the inner, secret storehouse. Even _he_ could scarcely find the\ndoor, for saplings of trees had grown up about it; yet he found it at\nlast. Within the holy well the water was yet babbling and shining in\nthe moonlight over the silver sands; and here, too, there was store of\nmouldering grain, for the house had been abundantly rich when the great\nplague fell upon the people while he was far away. So he found food to\nsatisfy his hunger, after a sort, and next he gathered together out of\nhis treasure-chest the beautiful golden armour of unhappy Paris, son of\nPriam, the false love of fair Helen. These arms had been taken at the\nsack of Troy, and had lain long in the treasury of Menelaus in Sparta;\nbut on a day he had given them to Odysseus, the dearest of all his\nguests. The Wanderer clad himself in this golden gear, and took the\nsword called \u201cEuryalus\u2019s Gift,\u201d a bronze blade with a silver hilt, and\na sheath of ivory, which a stranger had given him in a far-off land.\nAlready the love of life had come back to him, now that he had eaten\nand drunk, and had heard the Song of the Bow, the Slayer of Men. He\nlived yet, and hope lived in him though his house was desolate, and his\nwedded wife was dead, and there was none to give him tidings of his one\nchild, Telemachus. Even so life beat strong in his heart, and his hands\nwould keep his head if any sea-robbers had come to the city of Ithaca\nand made their home there, like hawks in the forsaken nest of an eagle\nof the sea. So he clad himself in his armour, and chose out two spears\nfrom a stand of lances, and cleaned them, and girt about his shoulders\na quiver full of shafts, and took in hand his great bow, the Bow of\nEurytus, which no other man could bend.\n\nThen he went forth from the ruined house into the moonlight, went forth\nfor the last time; for never again did the high roof echo to the\nfootstep of its lord. Long has the grass grown over it, and the\nsea-wind wailed!\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\nTHE VISION OF THE WORLD\u2019S DESIRE\n\n\nThe fragrant night was clear and still, the silence scarce broken by\nthe lapping of the waves, as the Wanderer went down from his fallen\nhome to the city on the sea, walking warily, and watching for any light\nfrom the houses of the people. But they were all as dark as his own,\nmany of them roofless and ruined, for, after the plague, an earthquake\nhad smitten the city. There were gaping chasms in the road, here and\nthere, and through rifts in the walls of the houses the moon shone\nstrangely, making ragged shadows. At last the Wanderer reached the\nTemple of Athene, the Goddess of War; but the roof had fallen in, the\npillars were overset, and the scent of wild thyme growing in the broken\npavement rose where he walked. Yet, as he stood by the door of the\nfane, where he had burned so many a sacrifice, at length he spied a\nlight blazing from the windows of a great chapel by the sea. It was the\nTemple of Aphrodite, the Queen of Love, and from the open door a sweet\nsavour of incense and a golden blaze rushed forth till they were lost\nin the silver of the moonshine and in the salt smell of the sea.\nThither the Wanderer went slowly, for his limbs were swaying with\nweariness, and he was half in a dream. Yet he hid himself cunningly in\nthe shadow of a long avenue of myrtles, for he guessed that sea-robbers\nwere keeping revel in the forsaken shrine. But he heard no sound of\nsinging and no tread of dancing feet within the fane of the Goddess of\nLove; the sacred plot of the goddess and her chapels were silent. He\nhearkened awhile, and watched, till at last he took courage, drew near\nthe doors, and entered the holy place. But in the tall, bronze braziers\nthere were no faggots burning, nor were there torches lighted in the\nhands of the golden men and maids, the images that stand within the\nfane of Aphrodite. Yet, if he did not dream, nor take moonlight for\nfire, the temple was bathed in showers of gold by a splendour of flame.\nNone might see its centre nor its fountain; it sprang neither from the\naltar nor the statue of the goddess, but was everywhere imminent, a\nglory not of this world, a fire untended and unlit. And the painted\nwalls with the stories of the loves of men and gods, and the carven\npillars and the beams, and the roof of green, were bright with flaming\nfire!\n\nAt this the Wanderer was afraid, knowing that an immortal was at hand;\nfor the comings and goings of the gods were attended, as he had seen,\nby this wonderful light of unearthly fire. So he bowed his head, and\nhid his face as he sat by the altar in the holiest of the holy shrine,\nand with his right hand he grasped the horns of the altar. As he sat\nthere, perchance he woke, and perchance he slept. However it was, it\nseemed to him that soon there came a murmuring and a whispering of the\nmyrtle leaves and laurels, and a sound in the tops of the pines, and\nthen his face was fanned by a breath more cold than the wind that wakes\nthe dawn. At the touch of this breath the Wanderer shuddered, and the\nhair on his flesh stood up, so cold was the strange wind.\n\nThere was silence; and he heard a voice, and he knew that it was the\nvoice of no mortal, but of a goddess. For the speech of goddesses was\nnot strange in his ears; he knew the clarion cry of Athene, the Queen\nof Wisdom and of War; and the winning words of Circe, the Daughter of\nthe Sun, and the sweet song of Calypso\u2019s voice as she wove with her\ngolden shuttle at the loom. But now the words came sweeter than the\nmoaning of doves, more soft than sleep. So came the golden voice,\nwhether he woke or whether he dreamed.\n\n\u201cOdysseus, thou knowest me not, nor am I thy lady, nor hast thou ever\nbeen my servant! Where is she, the Queen of the Air, Athene, and why\ncomest _thou_ here as a suppliant at the knees of the daughter of\nDione?\u201d\n\nHe answered nothing, but he bowed his head in deeper sorrow.\n\nThe voice spake again:\n\n\u201cBehold, thy house is desolate; thy hearth is cold. The wild hare\nbreeds on thy hearthstone, and the night-bird roosts beneath thy\nroof-tree. Thou hast neither child nor wife nor native land, and _she_\nhath forsaken thee\u2014thy Lady Athene. Many a time didst thou sacrifice to\nher the thighs of kine and sheep, but didst thou ever give so much as a\npair of dove to _me_? Hath she left thee, as the Dawn forsook Tithonus,\nbecause there are now threads of silver in the darkness of thy hair? Is\nthe wise goddess fickle as a nymph of the woodland or the wells? Doth\nshe love a man only for the bloom of his youth? Nay, I know not; but\nthis I know, that on thee, Odysseus, old age will soon be hastening\u2014old\nage that is pitiless, and ruinous, and weary, and weak\u2014age that cometh\non all men, and that is hateful to the Gods. Therefore, Odysseus, ere\nyet it be too late, I would bow even thee to my will, and hold thee for\nmy thrall. For I am she who conquers all things living: Gods and beasts\nand men. And hast thou thought that thou only shalt escape Aphrodite?\nThou that hast never loved as I would have men love; thou that hast\nnever obeyed me for an hour, nor ever known the joy and the sorrow that\nare mine to give? For thou didst but endure the caresses of Circe, the\nDaughter of the Sun, and thou wert aweary in the arms of Calypso, and\nthe Sea King\u2019s daughter came never to her longing. As for her who is\ndead, thy dear wife Penelope, thou didst love her with a loyal heart,\nbut never with a heart of fire. Nay, she was but thy companion, thy\nhousewife, and the mother of thy child. She was mingled with all the\nmemories of the land thou lovest, and so thou gavest her a little love.\nBut she is dead; and thy child too is no more; and thy very country is\nas the ashes of a forsaken hearth where once was a camp of men. What\nhave all thy wars and wanderings won for thee, all thy labours, and all\nthe adventures thou hast achieved? For what didst thou seek among the\nliving and the dead? Thou soughtest that which all men seek\u2014thou\nsoughtest _The World\u2019s Desire_. They find it not, nor hast thou found\nit, Odysseus; and thy friends are dead; thy land is dead; nothing lives\nbut Hope. But the life that lies before thee is new, without a remnant\nof the old days, except for the bitterness of longing and remembrance.\nOut of this new life, and the unborn hours, wilt thou not give, what\nnever before thou gavest, one hour to me, to be my servant?\u201d\n\nThe voice, as it seemed, grew softer and came nearer, till the Wanderer\nheard it whisper in his very ear, and with the voice came a divine\nfragrance. The breath of her who spoke seemed to touch his neck; the\nimmortal tresses of the Goddess were mingled with the dark curls of his\nhair.\n\nThe voice spake again:\n\n\u201cNay, Odysseus, didst thou not once give me one little hour? Fear not,\nfor thou shalt not see me at this time, but lift thy head and look on\nThe World\u2019s Desire!\u201d\n\nThen the Wanderer lifted his head, and he saw, as it were in a picture\nor in a mirror of bronze, the vision of a girl. She was more than\nmortal tall, and though still in the first flower of youth, and almost\na child in years, she seemed fair as a goddess, and so beautiful that\nAphrodite herself may perchance have envied this loveliness. She was\nslim and gracious as a young shoot of a palm tree, and her eyes were\nfearless and innocent as a child\u2019s. On her head she bore a shining urn\nof bronze, as if she were bringing water from the wells, and behind her\nwas the foliage of a plane tree. Then the Wanderer knew her, and saw\nher once again as he had seen her, when in his boyhood he had journeyed\nto the Court of her father, King Tyndareus. For, as he entered Sparta,\nand came down the hill Taygetus, and as his chariot wheels flashed\nthrough the ford of Eurotas, he had met her there on her way from the\nriver. There, in his youth, his eyes had gazed on the loveliness of\nHelen, and his heart had been filled with the desire of the fairest of\nwomen, and like all the princes of Achaia he had sought her hand in\nmarriage. But Helen was given to another man, to Menelaus, Atreus\u2019s\nson, of an evil house, that the knees of many might be loosened in\ndeath, and that there might be a song in the ears of men in after time.\n\nAs he beheld the vision of young Helen, the Wanderer too grew young\nagain. But as he gazed with the eyes and loved with the first love of a\nboy, she melted like a mist, and out of the mist came another vision.\nHe saw himself, disguised as a beggar, beaten and bruised, yet seated\nin a long hall bright with gold, while a woman bathed his feet, and\nanointed his head with oil. And the face of the woman was the face of\nthe maiden, and even more beautiful, but sad with grief and with an\nancient shame. Then he remembered how once he had stolen into Troy town\nfrom the camp of the Ach\u00e6ans, and how he had crept in a beggar\u2019s rags\nwithin the house of Priam to spy upon the Trojans, and how Helen, the\nfairest of women, had bathed him, and anointed him with oil, and\nsuffered him to go in peace, all for the memory of the love that was\nbetween them of old. As he gazed, that picture faded and melted in the\nmist, and again he bowed his head, and kneeled by the golden altar of\nthe Goddess, crying:\n\n\u201cWhere beneath the sunlight dwells the golden Helen?\u201d For now he had\nonly one desire: to look on Helen again before he died.\n\nThen the voice of the Goddess seemed to whisper in his ear:\n\n\u201cDid I not say truth, Odysseus? Wast not thou my servant for one hour,\nand did not Love save thee in the city of the Trojans on that night\nwhen even Wisdom was of no avail?\u201d\n\nHe answered: \u201cYea, O Queen!\u201d\n\n\u201cBehold then,\u201d said the voice, \u201cI would again have mercy and be kind to\nthee, for if I aid thee not thou hast no more life left among men.\nHome, and kindred, and native land thou hast none; and, but for me,\nthou must devour thine own heart and be lonely till thou diest.\nTherefore I breathe into thy heart a sweet forgetfulness of every\nsorrow, and I breathe love into thee for her who was thy first love in\nthe beginning of thy days.\n\n\u201cFor Helen is living yet upon the earth. And I will send thee on the\nquest of Helen, and thou shalt again take joy in war and wandering.\nThou shalt find her in a strange land, among a strange people, in a\nstrife of gods and men; and the wisest and bravest of man shall sleep\nat last in the arms of the fairest of women. But learn this, Odysseus;\nthou must set thy heart on no other woman, but only on Helen.\n\n\u201cAnd I give thee a sign to know her by in a land of magic, and among\nwomen that deal in sorceries.\n\n\u201c_On the breast of Helen a jewel shines, a great star-stone, the gift I\ngave her on her wedding-night when she was bride to Menelaus. From that\nstone fall red drops like blood, and they drip on her vestment, and\nthere vanish, and do not stain it._\n\n\u201cBy the Star of Love shalt thou know her; by the star shalt thou swear\nto her; and if thou knowest not the portent of the Bleeding Star, or if\nthou breakest that oath, never in this life, Odysseus, shalt thou win\nthe golden Helen! And thine own death shall come from the water\u2014the\nswiftest death\u2014that the saying of the dead prophet may be fulfilled.\nYet first shalt thou lie in the arms of the golden Helen.\u201d\n\nThe Wanderer answered:\n\n\u201cQueen, how may this be, for I am alone on a seagirt isle, and I have\nno ship and no companions to speed me over the great gulf of the sea?\u201d\n\nThen the voice answered:\n\n\u201cFear not! the gods can bring to pass even greater things than these.\nGo from my house, and lie down to sleep in my holy ground, within the\nnoise of the wash of the waves. There sleep, and take thy rest! Thy\nstrength shall come back to thee, and before the setting of the new sun\nthou shalt be sailing on the path to The World\u2019s Desire. But first\ndrink from the chalice on my altar. Fare thee well!\u201d\n\nThe voice died into silence, like the dying of music. The Wanderer\nawoke and lifted his head, but the light had faded, and the temple was\ngrey in the first waking of the dawn. Yet there, on the altar where no\ncup had been, stood a deep chalice of gold, full of red wine to the\nbrim. This the Wanderer lifted and drained\u2014a draught of Nepenthe, the\nmagic cup that puts trouble out of mind. As he drank, a wave of sweet\nhope went over his heart, and buried far below it the sorrow of\nremembrance, and the trouble of the past, and the longing desire for\nloves that were no more.\n\nWith a light step he went forth like a younger man, taking the two\nspears in his hand, and the bow upon his back, and he lay down beneath\na great rock that looked toward the deep, and there he slept.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\nTHE SLAYING OF THE SIDONIANS\n\n\nMorning broke in the East. A new day dawned upon the silent sea, and on\nthe world of light and sound. The sunrise topped the hill at last, and\nfell upon the golden raiment of the Wanderer where he slept, making it\nblaze like living fire. As the sun touched him, the prow of a black\nship stole swiftly round the headland, for the oarsmen drove her well\nwith the oars. Any man who saw her would have known her to be a vessel\nof the merchants of Sidon\u2014the most cunning people and the greediest of\ngain\u2014for on her prow were two big-headed shapes of dwarfs, with gaping\nmouths and knotted limbs. Such gods as those were worshipped by the\nSidonians. She was now returning from Albion, an isle beyond the\npillars of Heracles and the gates of the great sea, where much store of\ntin is found; and she had rich merchandise on board. On the half-deck\nbeside the steersman was the captain, a thin, keen-eyed sailor, who\nlooked shoreward and saw the sun blaze on the golden armour of the\nWanderer. They were so far off that he could not see clearly what it\nwas that glittered yellow, but all that glittered yellow was a lure for\nhim, and gold drew him on as iron draws the hands of heroes. So he bade\nthe helmsman steer straight in, for the sea was deep below the rock,\nand there they all saw a man lying asleep in golden armour. They\nwhispered together, laughing silently, and then sprang ashore, taking\nwith them a rope of twisted ox-hide, a hawser of the ship, and a strong\ncable of byblus, the papyrus plant. On these ropes they cast a loop and\na running knot, a lasso for throwing, so that they might capture the\nman in safety from a distance. With these in their hands they crept up\nthe cliff, for their purpose was to noose the man in golden armour, and\ndrag him on board their vessel, and carry him to the mouth of the river\nof Egypt, and there sell him for a slave to the King. For the\nSidonians, who were greedy of everything, loved nothing better than to\ncatch free men and women, who might be purchased, by mere force or\nguile, and then be sold again for gold and silver and cattle. Many\nkings\u2019 sons had thus been captured by them, and had seen the day of\nslavery in Babylon, or Tyre, or Egyptian Thebes, and had died sadly,\nfar from the Argive land.\n\nSo the Sidonians went round warily, and, creeping in silence over the\nshort grass and thyme towards the Wanderer, were soon as near to him as\na child could throw a stone. Like shepherds who seek to net a sleeping\nlion, they came cunningly; yet not so cunningly but that the Wanderer\nheard them through his dreams, and turned and sat up, looking around\nhim half awake. But as he woke the noose fell about his neck and over\nhis arms and they drew it hard, and threw him on his back. Before they\ncould touch him he was on his feet again, crying his war-cry terribly,\nthe cry that shook the towers of Ilium, and he rushed upon them,\nclutching at his sword hilt. The men who were nearest him and had hold\nof the rope let it fall from their hands and fled, but the others swung\nbehind him, and dragged with all their force. If his arms had been free\nso that he might draw his sword, it would have gone ill with them, many\nas they were, for the Sidonians have no stomach for sword blades; but\nhis arms were held in the noose. Yet they did not easily master him;\nbut, as those who had fled came back, and they all laid hands on the\nrope together, they overpowered him by main force at last, and hauled\nhim, step by step, till he stumbled on a rock and fell. Then they\nrushed at him, and threw themselves all upon his body, and bound him\nwith ropes in cunning sailor knots. But the booty was dearly won, and\nthey did not all return alive; for he crushed one man with his knees\ntill the breath left him, and the thigh of another he broke with a blow\nof his foot.\n\nBut at last his strength was spent, and they had him like a bird in a\nsnare; so, by might and main, they bore him to their ship, and threw\nhim down on the fore-deck of the vessel. There they mocked him, though\nthey were half afraid; for even now he was terrible. Then they hauled\nup the sail again and sat down to the oars. The wind blew fair for the\nmouth of the Nile and the slave-market of Egypt. The wind was fair, and\ntheir hearts were light, for they had been among the first of their\npeople to deal with the wild tribes of the island Albion, and had\nbought tin and gold for African sea shells and rude glass beads from\nEgypt. And now, near the very end of their adventure, they had caught a\nman whose armour and whose body were worth a king\u2019s ransom. It was a\nlucky voyage, they said, and the wind was fair!\n\nThe rest of the journey was long, but in well-known waters. They passed\nby Cephalonia and the rock of \u00c6gilips, and wooded Zacynthus, and Sam\u00ea,\nand of all those isles he was the lord, whom they were now selling into\ncaptivity. But he lay still, breathing heavily, and he stirred but\nonce\u2014that was when they neared Zacynthus. Then he strained his head\nround with a mighty strain, and he saw the sun go down upon the heights\nof rocky Ithaca, for that last time of all.\n\nSo the swift ship ran along the coast, slipping by forgotten towns.\nPast the Echinean isles, and the Elian shore, and pleasant Eirene they\nsped, and it was dusk ere they reached Dorion. Deep night had fallen\nwhen they ran by Pylos; and the light of the fires in the hall of\nPisistratus, the son of Nestor the Old, shone out across the sandy\nsea-coast and the sea. But when they were come near Malea, the\nsouthernmost point of land, where two seas meet, there the storm\nsnatched them, and drove them ever southwards, beyond Crete, towards\nthe mouth of the Nile. They scudded long before the storm-wind, losing\ntheir reckoning, and rushing by island temples that showed like ghosts\nthrough the mist, and past havens which they could not win. On they\nfled, and the men would gladly have lightened the ship by casting the\ncargo overboard; but the captain watched the hatches with a sword and\ntwo bronze-tipped spears in his hand. He would sink or swim with the\nship; he would go down with his treasure, or reach Sidon, the City of\nFlowers, and build a white house among the palms by the waters of\nBostren, and never try the sea again.\n\nSo he swore; and he would not let them cast the Wanderer overboard, as\nthey desired, because he had brought bad luck. \u201cHe shall bring a good\nprice in Tanis,\u201d cried the captain. And at last the storm abated, and\nthe Sidonians took heart, and were glad like men escaped from death; so\nthey sacrificed and poured forth wine before the dwarf-gods on the prow\nof their vessel, and burned incense on their little altar. In their\nmirth, and to mock the Wanderer, they hung his sword and his shield\nagainst the mast, and his quiver and his bow they arrayed in the\nfashion of a trophy; and they mocked him, believing that he knew no\nword of their speech. But he knew it well, as he knew the speech of the\npeople of Egypt; for he had seen the cities of many men, and had spoken\nwith captains and mercenaries from many a land in the great wars.\n\nThe Sidonians, however, jibed and spoke freely before him, saying how\nthey were bound for the rich city of Tanis, on the banks of the River\nof Egypt, and how the captain was minded to pay his toll to Pharaoh\nwith the body and the armour of the Wanderer. That he might seem the\ncomelier, and a gift more fit for a king, the sailors slackened his\nbonds a little, and brought him dried meat and wine, and he ate till\nhis strength returned to him. Then he entreated them by signs to loosen\nthe cord that bound his legs; for indeed his limbs were dead through\nthe strength of the bonds, and his armour was eating into his flesh. At\nhis prayer they took some pity of him and loosened his bonds again, and\nhe lay upon his back, moving his legs to and fro till his strength came\nback.\n\nSo they sailed southward ever, through smooth waters and past the\nislands that lie like water-lilies in the midland sea. Many a strange\nsight they saw: vessels bearing slaves, whose sighing might be heard\nabove the sighing of wind and water\u2014young men and maidens of Ionia and\nAchaia, stolen by slave-traders into bondage; now they would touch at\nthe white havens of a peaceful city; and again they would watch a smoke\non the sea-line all day, rising black into the heavens; but by\nnightfall the smoke would change to a great roaring fire from the\nbeacons of a beleaguered island town; the fire would blaze on the masts\nof the ships of the besiegers, and show blood-red on their sails, and\nglitter on the gilded shields that lined the bulwarks of their ships.\nBut the Sidonians sped on till, one night, they anchored off a little\nisle that lies over against the mouth of the Nile. Beneath this isle\nthey moored the ship, and slept, most of them, ashore.\n\nThen the Wanderer began to plot a way to escape, though the enterprise\nseemed desperate enough. He was lying in the darkness of the hold,\nsleepless and sore with his bonds, while his guard watched under an\nawning in the moonlight on the deck. They dreamed so little of his\nescaping that they visited him only by watches, now and again; and, as\nit chanced, the man whose turn it was to see that all was well fell\nasleep. Many a thought went through the prisoner\u2019s mind, and now it\nseemed to him that the vision of the Goddess was only a vision of\nsleep, which came, as they said, through the false Gates of Ivory, and\nnot through the Gates of Horn. So he was to live in slavery after all,\na king no longer, but a captive, toiling in the Egyptian mines of\nSinai, or a soldier at a palace gate, till he died. Thus he brooded,\ntill out of the stillness came a thin, faint, thrilling sound from the\nbow that hung against the mast over his head, the bow that he never\nthought to string again. There was a noise of a singing of the bow and\nof the string, and the wordless song shaped itself thus in the heart of\nthe Wanderer:\n\nLo! the hour is nigh\n    And the time to smite,\nWhen the foe shall fly\n    From the arrow\u2019s flight!\nLet the bronze bite deep!\n    Let the war-birds fly\nUpon them that sleep\n    And are ripe to die!\nShrill and low\n    Do the grey shafts sing\nThe Song of the Bow,\n    The sound of the string!\n\n\nThen the low music died into the silence, and the Wanderer knew that\nthe next sun would not set on the day of slavery, and that his revenge\nwas near. His bonds would be no barrier to his vengeance; they would\nbreak like burnt tow, he knew, in the fire of his anger. Long since, in\nhis old days of wandering, Calypso, his love, had taught him in the\nsummer leisure of her sea-girt isle how to tie the knots that no man\ncould untie, and to undo all the knots that men can bind. He remembered\nthis lesson in the night when the bow sang of war. So he thought no\nmore of sleeping, but cunningly and swiftly unknotted all the cords and\nthe bonds which bound him to a bar of iron in the hold. He might have\nescaped now, perhaps, if he had stolen on deck without waking the\nguards, dived thence and swam under water towards the island, where he\nmight have hidden himself in the bush. But he desired revenge no less\nthan freedom, and had set his heart on coming in a ship of his own, and\nwith all the great treasure of the Sidonians, before the Egyptian King.\n\nWith this in his mind, he did not throw off the cords, but let them lie\non his arms and legs and about his body, as if they were still tied\nfast. But he fought against sleep, lest in moving when he woke he might\nreveal the trick, and be bound again. So he lay and waited, and in the\nmorning the sailors came on board, and mocked at him again. In his\nmirth one of the men took a dish of meat and of lentils, and set it a\nlittle out of the Wanderer\u2019s reach as he lay bound, and said in the\nPhoenician tongue:\n\n\u201cMighty lord, art thou some god of Javan\u201d (for so the Sidonians called\nthe Ach\u00e6ans), \u201cand wilt thou deign to taste our sacrifice? Is not the\nsavour sweet in the nostrils of my lord? Why will he not put forth his\nhand to touch our offering?\u201d\n\nThen the heart of Odysseus muttered sullenly within him, in wrath at\nthe insolence of the man. But he constrained himself and smiled, and\nsaid:\n\n\u201cWilt thou not bring the mess a very little nearer, my friend, that I\nmay smell the sweet incense of the sacrifice?\u201d\n\nThey were amazed when they heard him speak in their own tongue; but he\nwho held the dish brought it nearer, like a man that angers a dog, now\noffering the meat, and now taking it away.\n\nSo soon as the man was within reach, the Wanderer sprang out, the\nloosened bonds falling at his feet, and smote the sailor beneath the\near with his clenched fist. The blow was so fierce, for all his anger\nwent into it, that it crushed the bone, and drove the man against the\nmast of the ship so that the strong mast shook. Where he fell, there he\nlay, his feet kicking the floor of the hold in his death-pain.\n\nThen the Wanderer snatched from the mast his bow and his short sword,\nslung the quiver about his shoulders, and ran on to the raised decking\nof the prow.\n\nThe bulwarks of the deck were high, and the vessel was narrow, and\nbefore the sailors could stir for amazement the Wanderer had taken his\nstand behind the little altar and the dwarf-gods. Here he stood with an\narrow on the string, and the bow drawn to his ear, looking about him\nterribly.\n\nNow panic and dread came on the Sidonians when they saw him standing\nthus, and one of the sailors cried:\n\n\u201cAlas! what god have we taken and bound? Our ship may not contain him.\nSurely he is Resef Mikal, the God of the Bow, whom they of Javan call\nApollo. Nay, let us land him on the isle and come not to blows with\nhim, but entreat his mercy, lest he rouse the waves and the winds\nagainst us.\u201d\n\nBut the captain of the ship of the Sidonians cried:\n\n\u201cNot so, ye knaves! Have at him, for he is no god, but a mortal man;\nand his armour is worth many a yoke of oxen!\u201d\n\nThen he bade some of them climb the decking at the further end of the\nship, and throw spears at him thence; and he called others to bring up\none of the long spears and charge him with that. Now these were huge\npikes, that were wielded by five or six men at once, and no armour\ncould withstand them; they were used in the fights to drive back\nboarders, and to ward off attacks on ships which were beached on shore\nin the sieges of towns.\n\nThe men whom the captain appointed little liked the task, for the long\nspears were laid on tressels along the bulwarks, and to reach them and\nunship them it was needful to come within range of the bow. But the\nsailors on the further deck threw all their spears at once, while five\nmen leaped on the deck where the Wanderer stood. He loosed the\nbowstring and the shaft sped on its way; again he drew and loosed, and\nnow two of them had fallen beneath his arrows, and one was struck by a\nchance blow from a spear thrown from the further deck, and the other\ntwo leaped back into the hold.\n\nThen the Wanderer shouted from the high decking of the prow in the\nspeech of the Sidonians:\n\n\u201cYe dogs, ye have sailed on your latest seafaring, and never again\nshall ye bring the hour of slavery on any man.\u201d\n\nSo he cried, and the sailors gathered together in the hold, and took\ncounsel how they should deal with him. But meanwhile the bow was\nsilent, and of those on the hinder deck who were casting spears, one\ndropped and the others quickly fled to their fellows below, for on the\ndeck they had no cover.\n\nThe sun was now well risen, and shone on the Wanderer\u2019s golden mail, as\nhe stood alone on the decking, with his bow drawn. The sun shone, there\nwas silence, the ship swung to her anchor; and still he waited, looking\ndown, his arrow pointing at the level of the deck to shoot at the first\nhead which rose above the planking. Suddenly there was a rush of men on\nto the further decking, and certain of them tore the shields that lined\nthe bulwarks from their pins, and threw them down to those who were\nbelow, while others cast a shower of spears at the Wanderer. Some of\nthe spears he avoided; others leaped back from his mail; others stood\nfast in the altar and in the bodies of the dwarf-gods; while he\nanswered with an arrow that did not miss its aim. But his eyes were\nalways watching most keenly the hatches nearest him, whence a gangway\nran down to the lower part of the ship, where the oarsmen sat; for only\nthence could they make a rush on him. As he watched and drew an arrow\nfrom the quiver on his shoulder, he felt, as it were, a shadow between\nhim and the deck. He glanced up quickly, and there, on the yard above\nhis head, a man, who had climbed the mast from behind, was creeping\ndown to drop on him from above. Then the Wanderer snatched a short\nspear and cast it at the man. The spear sped quicker than a thought,\nand pinned his two hands to the yard so that he hung there helpless,\nshrieking to his friends. But the arrows of the Wanderer kept raining\non the men who stood on the further deck, and presently some of them,\ntoo, leaped down in terror, crying that he was a god and not a man,\nwhile others threw themselves into the sea, and swam for the island.\n\nThen the Wanderer himself waited no longer, seeing them all amazed, but\nhe drew his sword and leaped down among them with a cry like a\nsea-eagle swooping on seamews in the crevice of a rock. To right and\nleft he smote with the short sword, making a havoc and sparing none,\nfor the sword ravened in his hand. And some fell over the benches and\noars, but such of the sailors as could flee rushed up the gangway into\nthe further deck, and thence sprang overboard, while those who had not\nthe luck to flee fell where they stood, and scarcely struck a blow.\nOnly the captain of the ship, knowing that all was lost, turned and\nthrew a spear in the Wanderer\u2019s face. But he watched the flash of the\nbronze and stooped his head, so that the spear struck only the golden\nhelm and pierced it through, but scarcely grazed his head. Now the\nWanderer sprang on the Sidonian captain, and smote him with the flat of\nhis sword so that he fell senseless on the deck, and then he bound him\nhand and foot with cords as he himself had been bound, and made him\nfast to the iron bar in the hold. Next he gathered up the dead in his\nmighty arms, and set them against the bulwarks of the\nfore-deck\u2014harvesting the fruits of War. Above the deck the man who had\ncrept along the yard was hanging by his two hands which the spear had\npinned together to the yard.\n\n\u201cArt thou there, friend?\u201d cried the Wanderer, mocking him. \u201cHast thou\nchosen to stay with me rather than go with thy friends, or seek new\nservice? Nay, then, as thou art so staunch, abide there and keep a good\nlook-out for the river mouth and the market where thou shalt sell me\nfor a great price.\u201d So he spoke, but the man was already dead of pain\nand fear. Then the Wanderer unbuckled his golden armour, which clanged\nupon the deck, and drew fresh water from the hold to cleanse himself,\nfor he was stained like a lion that has devoured an ox. Next, with a\ngolden comb he combed his long dark curls, and he gathered his arrows\nout of the bodies of the dead, and out of the thwarts and the sides of\nthe ship, cleansed them, and laid them back in the quiver. When all\nthis was ended he put on his armour again; but strong as he was, he\ncould not tear the spear from the helm without breaking the gold; so he\nsnapped the shaft and put on the helmet with the point of the javelin\nstill fixed firm in the crest, as Fate would have it so, and this was\nthe beginning of his sorrows. Next he ate meat and bread, and drank\nwine, and poured forth some of the wine before his gods. Lastly he\ndragged up the heavy stone with which the ship was moored, a stone\nheavier far, they say, than two other men could lift. He took the\ntiller in his hand; the steady north wind, the Etesian wind, kept\nblowing in the sails, and he steered straight southward for the mouths\nof the Nile.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\nTHE BLOOD-RED SEA\n\n\nA hard fight it had been and a long, and the Wanderer was weary. He\ntook the tiller of the ship in his hand, and steered for the South and\nfor the noonday sun, which was now at his highest in the heavens. But\nsuddenly the bright light of the sky was darkened and the air was\nfilled with the rush, and the murmur, and the winnowing of innumerable\nwings. It was as if all the birds that have their homes and seek their\nfood in the great salt marsh of Cayster had risen from the South and\nhad flown over sea in one hour, for the heaven was darkened with their\nflight, and loud with the call of cranes and the whistling cry of the\nwild ducks. So dark was the thick mass of flying fowl, that a flight of\nswans shone snowy against the black cloud of their wings. At the view\nof them the Wanderer caught his bow eagerly into his hand and set an\narrow on the string, and, taking a careful aim at the white wedge of\nbirds, he shot a wild swan through the breast as it swept high over the\nmast. Then, with all the speed of its rush, the wild white swan flashed\ndown like lightning into the sea behind the ship. The Wanderer watched\nits fall, when, lo! the water where the dead swan fell splashed up as\nred as blood and all afoam! The long silver wings and snowy plumage\nfloated on the surface flecked with blood-red stains, and the Wanderer\nmarvelled as he bent over the bulwarks and gazed steadily upon the sea.\nThen he saw that the wide sea round the ship was covered, as far as the\neye could reach, as it were with a blood-red scum. Hither and thither\nthe red stain was tossed like foam, yet beneath, where the deep wave\ndivided, the Wanderer saw that the streams of the sea were grey and\ngreen below the crimson dye. As he watched he saw, too, that the red\nfroth was drifted always onward from the South and from the mouth of\nthe River of Egypt, for behind the wake of the ship it was most red of\nall, though he had not marked it when the battle raged. But in front\nthe colour grew thin, as if the stain that the river washed down was\nall but spent. In his heart the Wanderer thought, as any man must have\ndeemed, that on the banks of the River of Egypt there had been some\nbattle of great nations, and that the War God had raged furiously,\nwherefore the holy river as it ran forth stained all the sacred sea.\nWhere war was, there was his home, no other home had he now, and all\nthe more eagerly he steered right on to see what the Gods would send\nhim. The flight of birds was over and past; it was two hours after\nnoon, the light was high in the heaven, when, as he gazed, another\nshadow fell on him, for the sun in mid-heaven grew small, and red as\nblood. Slowly a mist rose up over it from the South, a mist that was\nthin but as black as night. Beyond, to the southward, there was a bank\nof cloud like a mountain wall, steep, and polished, and black, tipped\nalong the ragged crest with fire, and opening ever and again with\nflashes of intolerable splendour, while the bases were scrawled over\nwith lightning like a written scroll. Never had the Wanderer in all his\nvoyaging on the sea and on the great River Oceanus that girdles the\nearth, and severs the dead from the living men\u2014never had he beheld such\na darkness. Presently he came as it were within the jaws of it, dark as\na wolf\u2019s mouth, so dark that he might not see the corpses on the deck,\nnor the mast, nor the dead man swinging from the yard, nor the captain\nof the Phoenicians who groaned aloud below, praying to his gods. But in\nthe wake of the ship there was one break of clear blue sky on the\nhorizon, in which the little isle where he had slain the Sidonians\nmight be discerned far off, as bright and white as ivory.\n\nNow, though he knew it not, the gates of his own world were closing\nbehind the Wanderer for ever. To the North, whence he came, lay the\nclear sky, and the sunny capes and isles, and the airy mountains of the\nArgive lands, white with the temples of familiar Gods. But in face of\nhim, to the South, whither he went, was a cloud of darkness and a land\nof darkness itself. There were things to befall more marvellous than\nare told in any tale; there was to be a war of the peoples, and of the\nGods, the True Gods and the False, and there he should find the last\nembraces of Love, the False Love and the True.\n\nForeboding somewhat of the perils that lay in front, the Wanderer was\ntempted to shift his course and sail back to the sunlight. But he was\none that had never turned his hand from the plough, nor his foot from\nthe path, and he thought that now his path was fore-ordained. So he\nlashed the tiller with a rope, and groped his way with his hands along\nthe deck till he reached the altar of the dwarf-gods, where the embers\nof the sacrifice still were glowing faintly. Then with his sword he cut\nsome spear-shafts and broken arrows into white chips, and with them he\nfilled a little brazier, and taking the seed of fire from the altar set\nlight to it from beneath. Presently the wood blazed up through the\nnoonday night, and the fire flickered and flared on the faces of the\ndead men that lay about the deck, rolling to larboard and to starboard,\nas the vessel lurched, and the flame shone red on the golden armour of\nthe Wanderer.\n\nOf all his voyages this was the strangest seafaring, he cruising alone,\nwith a company of the dead, deep into a darkness without measure or\nbound, to a land that might not be descried. Strange gusts of sudden\nwind blew him hither and thither. The breeze would rise in a moment\nfrom any quarter, and die as suddenly as it rose, and another wind\nwould chase it over the chopping seas. He knew not if he sailed South\nor North, he knew not how time passed, for there was no sight of the\nsun. It was night without a dawn. Yet his heart was glad, as if he had\nbeen a boy again, for the old sorrows were forgotten, so potent was the\ndraught of the chalice of the Goddess, and so keen was the delight of\nbattle.\n\n\u201cEndure, my heart,\u201d he cried, as often he had cried before, \u201ca worse\nthing than this thou hast endured,\u201d and he caught up a lyre of the dead\nSidonians, and sang:\u2014\n\nThough the light of the sun be hidden,\n    Though his race be run,\nThough we sail in a sea forbidden\n    To the golden sun:\nThough we wander alone, unknowing,\u2014\n    Oh, heart of mine,\u2014\nThe path of the strange sea-going,\n    Of the blood-red brine;\nYet endure! We shall not be shaken\n    By things worse than these;\nWe have \u2018scaped, when our friends were taken,\n    On the unsailed seas;\nWorse deaths have we faced and fled from,\n    In the Cyclops\u2019 den,\nWhen the floor of his cave ran red from\n    The blood of men;\nWorse griefs have we known undaunted,\n    Worse fates have fled;\nWhen the Isle that our long love haunted\n    Lay waste and dead!\n\n\nSo he was chanting when he descried, faint and far off, a red glow cast\nup along the darkness like sunset on the sky of the Under-world. For\nthis light he steered, and soon he saw two tall pillars of flame\nblazing beside each other, with a narrow space of night between them.\nHe helmed the ship towards these, and when he came near them they were\nlike two mighty mountains of wood burning far into heaven, and each was\nlofty as the pyre that blazes over men slain in some red war, and each\npile roared and flared above a steep crag of smooth black basalt, and\nbetween the burning mounds of fire lay the flame-flecked water of a\nhaven.\n\nThe ship neared the haven and the Wanderer saw, moving like fireflies\nthrough the night, the lanterns in the prows of boats, and from one of\nthe boats a sailor hailed him in the speech of the people of Egypt,\nasking him if he desired a pilot.\n\n\u201cYea,\u201d he shouted. The boat drew near, and the pilot came aboard, a\ntorch in his hand; but when his eyes fell on the dead men in the ship,\nand the horror hanging from the yard, and the captain bound to the iron\nbar, and above all, on the golden armour of the hero, and on the\nspear-point fast in his helm, and on his terrible face, he shrank back\nin dread, as if the God Osiris himself, in the Ship of Death, had\nreached the harbour. But the Wanderer bade him have no fear, telling\nhim that he came with much wealth and with a great gift for the\nPharaoh. The pilot, therefore, plucked up heart, and took the helm, and\nbetween the two great hills of blazing fire the vessel glided into the\nsmooth waters of the River of Egypt, the flames glittering on the\nWanderer\u2019s mail as he stood by the mast and chanted the Song of the\nBow.\n\nThen, by the counsel of the pilot, the vessel was steered up the river\ntowards the Temple of Heracles in Tanis, where there is a sanctuary for\nstrangers, and where no man may harm them. But first, the dead\nSidonians were cast overboard into the great river, for the dead bodies\nof men are an abomination to the Egyptians. And as each body struck the\nwater the Wanderer saw a hateful sight, for the face of the river was\nlashed into foam by the sudden leaping and rushing of huge four-footed\nfish, or so the Wanderer deemed them. The sound of the heavy plunging\nof the great water-beasts, as they darted forth on the prey, smiting at\neach other with their tails, and the gnashing of their jaws when they\nbit too eagerly, and only harmed the air, and the leap of a greedy\nsharp snout from the waves, even before the dead man cast from the ship\nhad quite touched the water\u2014these things were horrible to see and hear\nthrough the blackness and by the firelight. A River of Death it seemed,\nhaunted by the horrors that are said to prey upon the souls and bodies\nof the Dead. For the first time the heart of the Wanderer died within\nhim, at the horror of the darkness and of this dread river and of the\nwater-beasts that dwelt within it. Then he remembered how the birds had\nfled in terror from this place, and he bethought him of the blood-red\nsea.\n\nWhen the dead men were all cast overboard and the river was once more\nstill, the Wanderer spoke, sick at heart, and inquired of the pilot why\nthe sea had run so red, and whether war was in the land, and why there\nwas night over all that country. The fellow answered that there was no\nwar, but peace, yet the land was strangely plagued with frogs and\nlocusts and lice in all their coasts, the sacred river Sihor running\nred for three whole days, and now, at last, for this the third day,\ndarkness over all the world. But as to the cause of these curses the\npilot knew nothing, being a plain man. Only the story went among the\npeople that the Gods were angry with Khem (as they call Egypt), which\nindeed was easy to see, for those things could come only from the Gods.\nBut why they were angered the pilot knew not, still it was commonly\nthought that the Divine Hathor, the Goddess of Love, was wroth because\nof the worship given in Tanis to one they called THE STRANGE HATHOR, a\ngoddess or a woman of wonderful beauty, whose Temple was in Tanis.\nConcerning her the pilot said that many years ago, some thirty years,\nshe had first appeared in the country, coming none knew whence, and had\nbeen worshipped in Tanis, and had again departed as mysteriously as she\ncame. But now she had once more chosen to appear visible to men,\nstrangely, and to dwell in her temple; and the men who beheld her could\ndo nothing but worship her for her beauty. Whether she was a mortal\nwoman or a goddess the pilot did not know, only he thought that she who\ndwells in Atarhechis, Hathor of Khem, the Queen of Love, was angry with\nthe strange Hathor, and had sent the darkness and the plagues to punish\nthem who worshipped her. The people of the seaboard also murmured that\nit would be well to pray the Strange Hathor to depart out of their\ncoasts, if she were a goddess; and if she were a woman to stone her\nwith stones. But the people of Tanis vowed that they would rather die,\none and all, than do aught but adore the incomparable beauty of their\nstrange Goddess. Others again, held that two wizards, leaders of\ncertain slaves of a strange race, wanderers from the desert, settled in\nTanis, whom they called the Apura, caused all these sorrows by\nart-magic. As if, forsooth, said the pilot, those barbarian slaves were\nmore powerful than all the priests of Egypt. But for his part, the\npilot knew nothing, only that if the Divine Hathor were angry with the\npeople of Tanis it was hard that she must plague all the land of Khem.\n\nSo the pilot murmured, and his tale was none of the shortest; but even\nas he spoke the darkness grew less dark and the cloud lifted a little\nso that the shores of the river might be seen in a green light like the\nlight of Hades, and presently the night was rolled up like a veil, and\nit was living noonday in the land of Khem. Then all the noise of life\nbroke forth in one moment, the kine lowing, the wind swaying the\nfeathery palms, the fish splashing in the stream, men crying to each\nother from the river banks, and the voice of multitudes of people in\nevery red temple praising Ra, their great God, whose dwelling is the\nSun. The Wanderer, too, praised his own Gods, and gave thanks to\nApollo, and to Helios Hyperion, and to Aphrodite. And in the end the\npilot brought the ship to the quay of a great city, and there a crew of\noarsmen was hired, and they sped rejoicing in the sunlight, through a\ncanal dug by the hands of men, to Tanis and the Sanctuary of Heracles,\nthe Safety of Strangers. There the ship was moored, there the Wanderer\nrested, having a good welcome from the shaven priests of the temple.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\nMERIAMUN THE QUEEN\n\n\nStrange news flies fast. It was not long before the Pharaoh, who then\nwas with his Court in Tanis, the newly rebuilded city, heard how there\nhad come to Khem a man like a god, wearing golden armour, and cruising\nalone in a ship of the dead. In these years the white barbarians of the\nsea and of the isles were wont to land in Egypt, to ravage the fields,\ncarry women captive, and fly again in their ships. But not one of them\nhad dared to sail in the armour of the Aquaiusha, as the Egyptians\nnamed the Ach\u00e6ans, right up the river to the city of Pharaoh. The King,\ntherefore, was amazed at the story, and when he heard that the stranger\nhad taken sanctuary in the Temple of Heracles, he sent instantly for\nhis chief counsellor. This was his Master Builder, who bore a high\ntitle in the land, an ancient priest named Rei. He had served through\nthe long reign of the King\u2019s father, the divine Rameses the Second, and\nhe was beloved both of Meneptah and of Meriamun his Queen. Him the King\ncharged to visit the Sanctuary and bring the stranger before him. So\nRei called for his mule, and rode down to the Temple of Heracles beyond\nthe walls.\n\nWhen Rei came thither, a priest went before him and led him to the\nchamber where the warrior chanced to be eating the lily bread of the\nland, and drinking the wine of the Delta. He rose as Rei entered, and\nhe was still clad in his golden armour, for as yet he had not any\nchange of raiment. Beside him, on a bronze tripod, lay his helmet, the\nAch\u00e6an helmet, with its two horns and with the bronze spear-point still\nfast in the gold.\n\nThe eyes of Rei the Priest fell on the helmet, and he gazed so\nstrangely at it that he scarcely heard the Wanderer\u2019s salutation. At\nlength he answered, courteously, but always his eyes wandered back to\nthe broken spear-point.\n\n\u201cIs this thine, my son?\u201d he asked, taking it in his hand, while his\nvoice trembled.\n\n\u201cIt is my own,\u201d said the Wanderer, \u201cthough the spear-point in it was\nlent me of late, in return for arrows not a few and certain\nsword-strokes,\u201d and he smiled.\n\nThe ancient priest bade the Temple servants retire, and as they went\nthey heard him murmuring a prayer.\n\n\u201cThe Dead spoke truth,\u201d he muttered, still gazing from the helmet in\nhis hand to the Wanderer; \u201cay, the Dead speak seldom, but they never\nlie.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy son, thou hast eaten and drunk,\u201d then said Rei the Priest and\nMaster Builder, \u201cand may an old man ask whence thou camest, where is\nthy native city, and who are thy parents?\u201d\n\n\u201cI come from Alybas,\u201d answered the Wanderer, for his own name was too\nwidely known, and he loved an artful tale. \u201cI come from Alybas; I am\nthe son of Apheidas, son of Polypemon, and my own name is Eperitus.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd wherefore comest thou here alone in a ship of dead men, and with\nmore treasure than a king\u2019s ransom?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt was men of Sidon who laboured and died for all that cargo,\u201d said\nthe Wanderer; \u201cthey voyaged far for it, and toiled hard, but they lost\nit in an hour. For they were not content with what they had, but made\nme a prisoner as I lay asleep on the coast of Crete. But the Gods gave\nme the upper hand of them, and I bring their captain, and much white\nmetal and many swords and cups and beautiful woven stuffs, as a gift to\nyour King. And for thy courtesy, come with me, and choose a gift for\nthyself.\u201d\n\nThen he led the old man to the treasure-chambers of the Temple, which\nwas rich in the offerings of many travellers, gold and turquoise and\nfrankincense from Sinai and Punt, great horns of carved ivory from the\nunknown East and South; bowls and baths of silver from the Khita, who\nwere the allies of Egypt. But amidst all the wealth, the stranger\u2019s\ncargo made a goodly show, and the old priest\u2019s eyes glittered as he\nlooked at it.\n\n\u201cTake thy choice, I pray thee,\u201d said the Wanderer, \u201cthe spoils of\nfoemen are the share of friends.\u201d\n\nThe priest would have refused, but the Wanderer saw that he looked ever\nat a bowl of transparent amber, from the far-off Northern seas, that\nwas embossed with curious figures of men and gods, and huge fishes,\nsuch as are unknown in the Midland waters. The Wanderer put it into the\nhands of Rei.\n\n\u201cThou shalt keep this,\u201d he said, \u201cand pledge me in wine from it when I\nam gone, in memory of a friend and a guest.\u201d\n\nRei took the bowl, and thanked him, holding it up to the light to\nadmire the golden colour.\n\n\u201cWe are always children,\u201d he said, smiling gravely. \u201cSee an old child\nwhom thou hast made happy with a toy. But we are men too soon again;\nthe King bids thee come with me before him. And, my son, if thou\nwouldst please me more than by any gift, I pray thee pluck that\nspear-head from thy helmet before thou comest into the presence of the\nQueen.\u201d\n\n\u201cPardon me,\u201d said the Wanderer. \u201cI would not harm my helmet by tearing\nit roughly out, and I have no smith\u2019s tools here. The spear-point, my\nfather, is a witness to the truth of my tale, and for one day more, or\ntwo, I must wear it.\u201d\n\nRei sighed, bowed his head, folded his hands, and prayed to his God\nAmen, saying:\n\n\u201cO Amen, in whose hand is the end of a matter, lighten the burden of\nthese sorrows, and let the vision be easy of accomplishment, and I pray\nthee, O Amen, let thy hand be light on thy daughter Meriamun, the Lady\nof Khem.\u201d\n\nThen the old man led the Wanderer out, and bade the priests make ready\na chariot for him; and so they went through Tanis to the Court of\nMeneptah. Behind them followed the priests, carrying gifts that the\nWanderer had chosen from the treasures of the Sidonians, and the\nmiserable captain of the Sidonians was dragged along after them, bound\nto the hinder part of a chariot. Through the gazing crowd they all\npassed on to the Hall of Audience, where, between the great pillars,\nsat Pharaoh on his golden throne. Beside him, at his right hand, was\nMeriamun, the beautiful Queen, who looked at the priests with weary\neyes, as if at a matter in which she had no concern. They came in and\nbeat the earth with their brows before the King. First came the\nofficers, leading the captain of the Sidonians for a gift to Pharaoh,\nand the King smiled graciously and accepted the slave.\n\nThen came others, bearing the cups of gold fashioned like the heads of\nlions and rams, and the swords with pictures of wars and huntings\nechoed on their blades in many-coloured gold, and the necklets of amber\nfrom the North, which the Wanderer had chosen as gifts for Pharaoh\u2019s\nQueen and Pharaoh. He had silks, too, embroidered in gold, and\nneedlework of Sidonian women, and all these the Queen Meriamun touched\nto show her acceptance of them, and smiled graciously and wearily. But\nthe covetous Sidonian groaned, when he saw his wealth departing from\nhim, the gains for which he had hazarded his life in unsailed seas.\nLastly, Pharaoh bade them lead the Wanderer in before his presence, and\nhe came unhelmeted, in all his splendour, the goodliest man that had\never been seen in Khem. He was of no great height, but very great of\ngirth, and of strength unmatched, and with the face of one who had seen\nwhat few have seen and lived. The beauty of youth was gone from him,\nbut his face had the comeliness of a warrior tried on sea and land; the\neyes were of a valour invincible, and no woman could see him but she\nlonged to be his love.\n\nAs he entered murmurs of amazement passed over all the company, and all\neyes were fixed on him, save only the weary and wandering eyes of the\nlistless Meriamun. But when she chanced to lift her face, and gaze on\nhim, they who watch the looks of kings and queens saw her turn grey as\nthe dead, and clutch with her hand at her side. Pharaoh himself saw\nthis though he was not quick to mark what passed, and he asked her if\nanything ailed her, but she answered:\u2014\n\n\u201cNay, only methinks the air is sick with heat and perfume. Greet thou\nthis stranger.\u201d But beneath her robe her fingers were fretting all the\nwhile at the golden fringes of her throne.\n\n\u201cWelcome, thou Wanderer,\u201d cried Pharaoh, in a deep and heavy voice,\n\u201cwelcome! By what name art thou named, and where dwell thy people, and\nwhat is thy native land?\u201d\n\nBowing low before Pharaoh, the Wanderer answered, with a feigned tale,\nthat his name was Eperitus of Alybas, the son of Apheidas. The rest of\nthe story, and how he had been taken by the Sidonians, and how he had\nsmitten them on the seas, he told as he had told it to Rei. And he\ndisplayed his helmet with the spear-point fast in it. But when she saw\nthis Meriamun rose to her feet as if she would be gone, and then fell\nback into her seat even paler than before.\n\n\u201cThe Queen, help the Queen, she faints,\u201d cried Rei the Priest, whose\neyes had never left her face. One of her ladies, a beautiful woman, ran\nto her, knelt before her, and chafed her hands, till she came to\nherself, and sat up with angry eyes.\n\n\u201cLet be!\u201d she said, \u201cand let the slave who tends the incense be beaten\non the feet. Nay, I will remain here, I will not to my chamber. Let\nbe!\u201d and her lady drew back afraid.\n\nThen Pharaoh bade men lead the Sidonian out, and slay him in the\nmarket-place for his treachery; but the man, whose name was Kurri,\nthrew himself at the feet of the Wanderer, praying for his life. The\nWanderer was merciful, when the rage of battle was over, and his blood\nwas cool.\n\n\u201cA boon, O Pharaoh Meneptah,\u201d he cried. \u201cSpare me this man! He saved my\nown life when the crew would have cast me overboard. Let me pay my\ndebt.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet him be spared, as thou wilt have it so,\u201d spoke Pharaoh, \u201cbut\nrevenge dogs the feet of foolish mercy, and many debts are paid ere all\nis done.\u201d\n\nThus it chanced that Kurri was given to Meriamun to be her jeweller and\nto work for her in gold and silver. To the Wanderer was allotted a\nchamber in the Royal Palace, for the Pharaoh trusted that he would be a\nleader of his Guard, and took great pleasure in his beauty and his\nstrength.\n\nAs he left the Hall of Audience with Rei, the Queen Meriamun lifted her\neyes again, and looked on him long, and her ivory face flushed rosy,\nlike the ivory that the Sidonians dye red for the trappings of the\nhorses of kings. But the Wanderer marked both the sudden fear and the\nblush of Meriamun, and, beautiful as she was, he liked it ill, and his\nheart foreboded evil. When he was alone with Rei, therefore, he spoke\nto him of this, and prayed the old man to tell him if he could guess at\nall the meaning of the Queen.\n\n\u201cFor to me,\u201d he said, \u201cit was as if the Lady knew my face, and even as\nif she feared it; but I never saw her like in all my wanderings.\nBeautiful she is, and yet\u2014but it is ill speaking in their own land of\nkings and queens!\u201d\n\nAt first, when the Wanderer spoke thus, Rei put it by, smiling. But the\nWanderer, seeing that he was troubled, and remembering how he had\nprayed him to pluck the spear-point from his helmet, pressed him hard\nwith questions. Thus, partly out of weariness, and partly for love of\nhim, and also because a secret had long been burning in his heart, the\nold man took the Wanderer into his own room in the Palace, and there he\ntold him all the story of Meriamun the Queen.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\nTHE STORY OF MERIAMUN\n\n\nRei, the Priest of Amen, the Master Builder, began his story\nunwillingly enough, and slowly, but soon he took pleasure in telling it\nas old men do, and in sharing the burden of a secret.\n\n\u201cThe Queen is fair,\u201d he said; \u201cthou hast seen no fairer in all thy\nvoyagings?\u201d\n\n\u201cShe is fair indeed,\u201d answered the Wanderer. \u201cI pray that she be\nwell-mated and happy on her throne?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is what I will tell thee of, though my life may be the price of\nthe tale,\u201d said Rei. \u201cBut a lighter heart is well worth an old man\u2019s\ncheap risk, and thou may\u2019st help me and her, when thou knowest all.\nPharaoh Meneptah, her lord, the King, is the son of the divine Rameses,\nthe ever-living Pharaoh, child of the Sun, who dwelleth in Osiris.\u201d\n\n\u201cThou meanest that he is dead?\u201d asked the Wanderer.\n\n\u201cHe dwelleth with Osiris,\u201d said the Priest, \u201cand the Queen Meriamun was\nhis daughter by another bed.\u201d\n\n\u201cA brother wed a sister!\u201d exclaimed the Wanderer.\n\n\u201cIt is the custom of our Royal House, from the days of the Timeless\nKings, the children of Horus. An old custom.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe ways of his hosts are good in the eyes of a stranger,\u201d said the\nWanderer, courteously.\n\n\u201cIt is an old custom, and a sacred,\u201d said Rei, \u201cbut women, the\ncustom-makers, are often custom-breakers. And of all women, Meriamun\nleast loves to be obedient, even to the dead. And yet she has obeyed,\nand it came about thus. Her brother Meneptah\u2014who now is Pharaoh\u2014the\nPrince of Kush while her divine father lived, had many half-sisters,\nbut Meriamun was the fairest of them all. She is beautiful, a\nMoon-child the common people called her, and wise, and she does not\nknow the face of fear. And thus it chanced that she learned, what even\nour Royal women rarely learn, all the ancient secret wisdom of this\nancient land. Except Queen Taia of old, no woman has known what\nMeriamun knows, what I have taught her\u2014I and another counsellor.\u201d\n\nHe paused here, and his mind seemed to turn on unhappy things.\n\n\u201cI have taught her from childhood,\u201d he went on\u2014\u201cwould that I had been\nher only familiar\u2014and, after her divine father and mother, she loved me\nmore than any, for she loved few. But of all whom she did not love she\nloved her Royal brother least. He is slow of speech, and she is quick.\nShe is fearless and he has no heart for war. From her childhood she\nscorned him, mocked him, and mastered him with her tongue. She even\nlearned to excel him in the chariot races\u2014therefore it was that the\nKing his father made him but a General of the Foot Soldiers\u2014and in\nguessing riddles, which our people love, she delighted to conquer him.\nThe victory was easy enough, for the divine Prince is heavy-witted; but\nMeriamun was never tired of girding at him. Plainly, even as a little\nchild she grudged that he should come to wield the scourge of power,\nand wear the double crown, while she should live in idleness, and\nhunger for command.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is strange, then, that of all his sisters, if one must be Queen, he\nshould have chosen her,\u201d said the Wanderer.\n\n\u201cStrange, and it happened strangely. The Prince\u2019s father, the divine\nRameses, had willed the marriage. The Prince hated it no less than\nMeriamun, but the will of a father is the will of the Gods. In one\nsport the divine Prince excelled, in the Game of Pieces, an old game in\nKhem. It is no pastime for women, but even at this Meriamun was\ndetermined to master her brother. She bade me carve her a new set of\nthe pieces fashioned with the heads of cats, and shaped from the hard\nwood of Azebi.[*] I carved them with my own hands, and night by night\nshe played with me, who have some name for skill at the sport.\n\n[*] Cyprus.\n\n\n\u201cOne sunset it chanced that her brother came in from hunting the lion\nin the Libyan hills. He was in an evil humour, for he had found no\nlions, and he caused the huntsmen to be stretched out, and beaten with\nrods. Then he called for wine, and drank deep at the Palace gate, and\nthe deeper he drank the darker grew his humour.\n\n\u201cHe was going to his own Court in the Palace, striking with a whip at\nhis hounds, when he chanced to turn and see Meriamun. She was sitting\nwhere those three great palm-trees are, and was playing at pieces with\nme in the cool of the day. There she sat in the shadow, clad in white\nand purple, and with the red gold of the snake of royalty in the\nblackness of her hair. There she sat as beautiful as the Hathor, the\nQueen of Love; or as the Lady Isis when she played at pieces in Amenti\nwith the ancient King. Nay, an old man may say it, there never was but\none woman more fair than Meriamun, if a woman she be, she whom our\npeople call the _Strange Hathor_.\u201d\n\nNow the Wanderer bethought him of the tale of the pilot, but he said\nnothing, and Rei went on.\n\n\u201cThe Prince saw her, and his anger sought for something new to break\nitself on. Up he came, and I rose before him, and bowed myself. But\nMeriamun fell indolently back in her chair of ivory, and with a sweep\nof her slim hand she disordered the pieces, and bade her waiting woman,\nthe lady Hataska, gather up the board, and carry all away. But\nHataska\u2019s eyes were secretly watching the Prince.\n\n\u201c\u2018Greeting, Princess, our Royal sister,\u2019 said Meneptah. \u2018What art thou\ndoing with these?\u2019 and he pointed with his chariot whip at the\ncat-headed pieces. \u2018This is no woman\u2019s game, these pieces are not soft\nhearts of men to be moved on the board by love. This game needs wit!\nGet thee to thy broidery, for there thou may\u2019st excel.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Greeting, Prince, our Royal brother,\u2019 said Meriamun. \u2018I laugh to hear\nthee speak of a game that needs wit. Thy hunting has not prospered, so\nget thee to the banquet board, for there, I hear, the Gods have granted\nthee to excel.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018It is little to say,\u2019 answered the Prince, throwing himself into a\nchair whence I had risen, \u2018it is little to say, but at the game of\npieces I have enough wit to give thee a temple, a priest and five\nbowmen, and yet win,\u2019\u2014for these, O Wanderer, are the names of some of\nthe pieces.\n\n\u201c\u2018I take the challenge,\u2019 cried Meriamun, for now she had brought him\nwhere she wanted; \u2018but I will take no odds. Here is my wager. I will\nplay thee three games, and stake the sacred circlet upon my brow,\nagainst the Royal uraeus on thine, and the winner shall wear both.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Nay, nay, Lady,\u2019 I was bold to say, \u2018this were too high a stake.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018High or low, I accept the wager,\u2019 answered the Prince. \u2018This sister\nof mine has mocked me too long. She shall find that her woman\u2019s wit\ncannot match me at my own game, and that my father\u2019s son, the Royal\nPrince of Kush and the Pharaoh who shall be, is more than the equal of\na girl. I hold thy wage, Meriamun!\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Go then, Prince,\u2019 she cried, \u2018and after sunset meet me in my\nantechamber. Bring a scribe to score the games; Rei shall be the judge,\nand hold the stakes. But beware of the golden Cup of Pasht! Drain it\nnot to-night, lest I win a love-game, though we do not play for love!\u2019\n\n\u201cThe Prince went scowling away, and Meriamun laughed, but I foresaw\nmischief. The stakes were too high, the match was too strange, but\nMeriamun would not listen to me, for she was very wilful.\n\n\u201cThe sun fell, and two hours after the Royal Prince of Kush came with\nhis scribe, and found Meriamun with the board of squares before her, in\nher antechamber.\n\n\u201cHe sat down without a word, then he asked, who should first take the\nfield.\n\n\u201c\u2018Wait,\u2019 she said, \u2018first let us set the stakes,\u2019 and lifting from her\nbrow the golden snake of royalty, she shook her soft hair loose, and\ngave the coronet to me. \u2018If I lose,\u2019 she said, \u2018never may I wear the\nuraeus crown.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018That shalt thou never while I draw breath,\u2019 answered the Prince, as\nhe too lifted the symbol of his royalty from his head and gave it to\nme. There was a difference between the circlets, the coronet of\nMeriamun was crowned with one crested snake, that of the divine Prince\nwas crowned with twain.\n\n\u201c\u2018Ay, Meneptah,\u2019 she said, \u2018but perchance Osiris, God of the Dead,\nwaits thee, for surely he loves those too great and good for earth.\nTake thou the field and to the play.\u2019 At her words of evil omen, he\nfrowned. But he took the field and readily, for he knew the game well.\n\n\u201cShe moved in answer heedlessly enough, and afterwards she played at\nrandom and carelessly, pushing the pieces about with little skill. And\nso he won this first game quickly, and crying, \u2018_Pharaoh is dead_,\u2019\nswept the pieces from the board. \u2018See how I better thee,\u2019 he went on in\nmockery. \u2018Thine is a woman\u2019s game; all attack and no defence.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Boast not yet, Meneptah,\u2019 she said. \u2018There are still two sets to\nplay. See, the board is set and I take the field.\u2019\n\n\u201cThis time the game went differently, for the Prince could scarce make\na prisoner of a single piece save of one temple and two bowmen only,\nand presently it was the turn of Meriamun to cry \u2018_Pharaoh is dead_,\u2019\nand to sweep the pieces from the board. This time Meneptah did not\nboast but scowled, while I set the board and the scribe wrote down the\ngame upon his tablets. Now it was the Prince\u2019s turn to take the field.\n\n\u201c\u2018In the name of holy Thoth,\u2019 he cried, \u2018to whom I vow great gifts of\nvictory.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018In the name of holy Pasht,\u2019 she made answer, \u2018to whom I make daily\nprayer.\u2019 For, being a maid, she swore by the Goddess of Chastity, and\nbeing Meriamun, by the Goddess of Vengeance.\n\n\u201c\u2018\u2019Tis fitting thou should\u2019st vow by her of the Cat\u2019s Head,\u2019 he said,\nsneering.\n\n\u201c\u2018Yes; very fitting,\u2019 she answered, \u2018for perchance she\u2019ll lend me her\nclaws. Play thou, Prince Meneptah.\u2019\n\n\u201cAnd he played, and so well that for a while the game went against her.\nBut at length, when they had struggled long, and Meriamun had lost the\nmost of her pieces, a light came into her face as though she had found\nwhat she sought. And while the Prince called for wine and drank, she\nlay back in her chair and looked upon the board. Then she moved so\nshrewdly and upon so deep a plan that he fell into the trap that she\nhad laid for him, and could never escape. In vain he vowed gifts to the\nholy Thoth, and promised such a temple as there was none in Khem.\n\n\u201c\u2018Thoth hears thee not; he is the God of lettered men,\u2019 said Meriamun,\nmocking him. Then he cursed and drank more wine.\n\n\u201c\u2018Fools seek wit in wine, but only wise men find it,\u2019 quoth she again.\n\u2018Behold, Royal brother, _Pharaoh is dead_, and I have won the match,\nand beaten thee at thine own game. Rei, my servant, give me that\ncirclet; nay, not my own, the double one, which the divine Prince\nwagered. So set it on my brow, for it is mine, Meneptah. In this, as in\nall things else, I have conquered thee.\u2019\n\n\u201cAnd she rose, and standing full in the light of the lamps, the Royal\nuraeus on her brow, she mocked him, bidding him come do homage to her\nwho had won his crown, and stretching forth her small hand for him to\nkiss it. And so wondrous was her beauty that the divine Prince of Kush\nceased to call upon the evil Gods because of his ill fortune, and stood\ngazing on her.\n\n\u201c\u2018By Ptah, but thou art fair,\u2019 he cried, \u2018and I pardon my father at\nlast for willing thee to be my Queen!\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018But I will never pardon him,\u2019 said Meriamun.\n\n\u201cNow the Prince had drunk much wine.\n\n\u201c\u2018Thou shalt be my Queen,\u2019 he said, \u2018and for earnest I will kiss thee.\nThis, at the least, being the strongest, I can do.\u2019 And ere she could\nescape him, he passed his arm about her and seized her by the girdle,\nand kissed her on the lips and let her go.\n\n\u201cMeriamun grew white as the dead. By her side there hung a dagger.\nSwiftly she drew it, and swiftly struck at his heart, so that had he\nnot shrunk from the steel surely he had been slain; and she cried as\nshe struck, \u2018Thus, Prince, I pay thy kisses back.\u2019\n\n\u201cBut as it chanced, she only pierced his arm, and before she could\nstrike again I had seized her by the hand.\n\n\u201c\u2018Thou serpent,\u2019 said the Prince, pale with rage and fear. \u2018I tell thee\nI will kiss thee yet, whether thou wilt or not, and thou shalt pay for\nthis.\u2019\n\n\u201cBut she laughed softly now that her anger was spent, and I led him\nforth to seek a physician, who should bind up his wound. And when he\nwas gone, I returned, and spoke to her, wringing my hands.\n\n\u201c\u2018Oh, Royal Lady, what hast thou done? Thou knowest well that thy\ndivine father destines thee to wed the Prince of Kush whom but now thou\ndidst smite so fiercely.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Nay, Rei, I will none of him\u2014the dull clod, who is called the son of\nPharaoh. Moreover, he is my half-brother, and it is not meet that I\nshould wed my brother. For nature cries aloud against the custom of the\nland.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Nevertheless, Lady, it _is_ the custom of thy Royal house, and thy\nfather\u2019s will. Thus the Gods, thine ancestors, were wed; Isis to\nOsiris. Thus great Thothmes and Amenemhat did and decreed, and all\ntheir forefathers and all their seed. Oh, bethink thee\u2014I speak it for\nthine ear, for I love thee as mine own daughter\u2014bethink thee, for thou\ncanst not escape, that Pharaoh\u2019s bed is the step to Pharaoh\u2019s throne.\nThou lovest power; here is the gate of power, and mayhap upon a time\nthe master of the gate shall be gone and thou shalt sit in the gate\nalone.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Ah, Rei, now thou speakest like the counsellor of those who would be\nkings. Oh, did I not hate him with this hatred! And yet can I rule him.\nWhy, \u2019twas no chance game that we played this night: the future lay\nupon the board. See, his diadem is upon my brow! At first he won, for I\nchose that he should win. Well, so mayhap it shall be; mayhap I shall\ngive myself to him\u2014hating him the while. And then the next game; that\nshall be for life and love and all things dear, and I shall win it, and\nmine shall be the uraeus crest, and mine shall be the double crown of\nancient Khem, and I shall rule like Hatshepu, the great Queen of old,\nfor I am strong, and to the strong is victory.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Yes,\u2019 I made answer, \u2018but, Lady, see thou that the Gods turn not thy\nstrength to weakness; thou art too passionate to be all strength, and\nin a woman\u2019s heart passion is the door by which King Folly enters.\nTo-day thou hatest, beware, lest to-morrow thou should\u2019st love.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Love,\u2019 she said, gazing scornfully; \u2018Meriamun loves not till she find\na man worthy of her love.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Ay, and then\u2014\u2014?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018And then she loves to all destruction, and woe to them who cross her\npath. Rei, farewell.\u2019\n\n\u201cThen suddenly she spoke to me in another tongue, that few know save\nher and me, and that none can read save her and me, a dead tongue of a\ndead people, the people of that ancient City of the Rock, whence all\nour fathers came.[*]\n\n[*] Probably the mysterious and indecipherable ancient books, which\nwere occasionally excavated in old Egypt, were written in this dead\nlanguage of a more ancient and now forgotten people. Such was the book\ndiscovered at Coptos, in the sanctuary there, by a priest of the\nGoddess. \u201cThe whole earth was dark, but the moon shone all about the\nBook.\u201d A scribe of the period of the Ramessids mentions another\nindecipherable ancient writing. \u201cThou tellest me thou understandest no\nword of it, good or bad. There is, as it were, a wall about it that\nnone may climb. Thou art instructed, yet thou knowest it not; this\nmakes me afraid.\u201d Birch, _Zeitschrift_, 1871, pp. 61-64. _Papyrus\nAnastasi_ I, pl. X. 1. 8, pl. X. 1. 4. Maspero, _Hist. Anc._, pp.\n66-67.\n\n\n\u201c\u2018I go,\u2019 she said, and I trembled as she spoke, for no man speaks in\nthis language when he has any good thought in his heart. \u2018I go to seek\nthe counsel of That thou knowest,\u2019 and she touched the golden snake\nwhich she had won.\n\n\u201cThen I threw myself on the earth at her feet, and clasped her knees,\ncrying, \u2018My daughter, my daughter, sin not this great sin. Nay, for all\nthe kingdom of the world, wake not That which sleepeth, nor warm again\ninto life That which is a-cold.\u2019\n\n\u201cBut she only nodded, and put me from her,\u201d\u2014and the old man\u2019s face grew\npale as he spoke.\n\n\u201cWhat meant she?\u201d said the Wanderer.\n\n\u201cNay, wake not _thou_ That which sleepeth, Wanderer,\u201d he said, at\nlength. \u201cMy tongue is sealed. I tell thee more than I would tell\nanother. Do not ask,\u2014but hark! They come again! Now may Ra and Pasht\nand Amen curse them; may the red swine\u2019s mouth of Set gnaw upon them in\nAmenti; may the Fish of Sebek flesh his teeth of stone in them for\never, and feed and feed again!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy dost thou curse thus, Rei, and who are they that go by?\u201d said the\nWanderer. \u201cI hear their tramping and their song.\u201d\n\nIndeed there came a light noise of many shuffling feet, pattering\noutside the Palace wall, and the words of a song rang out triumphantly:\n\nThe Lord our God He doth sign and wonder,\n    Tokens He shows in the land of Khem,\nHe hath shattered the pride of the Kings asunder\n    And casteth His shoe o\u2019er the Gods of them!\nHe hath brought forth frogs in their holy places,\n    He hath sprinkled the dust upon crown and hem,\nHe hath hated their kings and hath darkened their faces;\n    Wonders He works in the land of Khem.\n\n\n\u201cThese are the accursed blaspheming conjurors and slaves, the Apura,\u201d\nsaid Rei, as the music and the tramping died away. \u201cTheir magic is\ngreater than the lore even of us who are instructed, for their leader\nwas one of ourselves, a shaven priest, and knows our wisdom. Never do\nthey march and sing thus but evil comes of it. Ere day dawn we shall\nhave news of them. May the Gods destroy them, they are gone for the\nhour. It were well if Meriamun the Queen would let them go for ever, as\nthey desire, to their death in the desert, but she hardens the King\u2019s\nheart.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\nTHE QUEEN\u2019S VISION\n\n\nThere was silence without at last; the clamour and the tread of the\nApura were hushed in the distance, dying far away, and Rei grew calm,\nwhen he heard no longer the wild song, and the clashing of the\ntimbrels.\n\n\u201cI must tell thee, Eperitus,\u201d he said, \u201chow the matter ended between\nthe divine Prince and Meriamun. She bowed her pride before her father\nand her brother: her father\u2019s will was hers; she seemed to let her\nsecret sleep, and she set her own price on her hand. In everything she\nmust be the equal of Pharaoh\u2014that was her price; and in all the temples\nand all the cities she was to be solemnly proclaimed joint heir with\nhim of the Upper and Lower Land. The bargain was struck and the price\nwas paid. After that night over the game of pieces Meriamun was\nchanged. Thenceforth she did not mock at the Prince, she made herself\ngentle and submissive to his will.\n\n\u201cSo the time drew on till at length in the beginning of the rising of\nthe waters came the day of her bridal. With a mighty pomp was Pharaoh\u2019s\ndaughter wedded to Pharaoh\u2019s son. But her hand was cold as she stood at\nthe altar, cold as the hand of one who sleeps in Osiris. Proudly and\ncoldly she sat in the golden chariot passing in and out the great gates\nof Tanis. Only when she listened and heard the acclaiming thousands cry\n_Meriamun_ so loudly that the cry of _Meneptah_ was lost in the echoes\nof her name\u2014then only did she smile.\n\n\u201cCold, too, she sat in her white robes at the feast that Pharaoh made,\nand she never looked at the husband by her side, though he looked\nkindly on her.\n\n\u201cThe feast was long, but it ended at last, and then came the music and\nthe singers, but Meriamun, making excuse, rose and went out, attended\nby her ladies. And I also, weary and sad at heart, passed thence to my\nown chamber and busied myself with the instruments of my art, for,\nstranger, I build the houses of gods and kings.\n\n\u201cPresently, as I sat, there came a knocking at the door, and a woman\nentered wrapped in a heavy cloak. She put aside the cloak, and before\nme was Meriamun in all her bridal robes.\n\n\u201c\u2018Heed me not, Rei,\u2019 she said, \u2018I am yet free for an hour; and I would\nwatch thee at thy labour. Nay, it is my humour; gainsay me not, for I\nlove well to look on that wrinkled face of thine, scored by the cunning\nchisel of thy knowledge and thy years. So from a child have I watched\nthee tracing the shapes of mighty temples that shall endure when\nourselves, and perchance the very Gods we worship, have long since\nceased to be. Ah, Rei, thou wise man, thine is the better part, for\nthou buildest in cold enduring stone and attirest thy walls as thy\nfancy bids thee. But I\u2014I build in the dust of human hearts, and my will\nis written in their dust. When I am dead, raise me a tomb more\nbeautiful than ever has been known, and write upon the portal, _Here,\nin the last temple of her pride, dwells that tired builder, Meriamun,\nthe Queen_.\u2019\n\n\u201cThus she talked wildly in words with little reason.\n\n\u201c\u2018Nay, speak not so,\u2019 I said, \u2018for is it not thy bridal night? What\ndost thou here at such a time?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018What do I here? Surely I come to be a child again! See, Rei, in all\nwide Khem there is no woman so shamed, so lost, so utterly undone as is\nto-night the Royal Meriamun, whom thou lovest. I am lower than she who\nplies the street for bread, for the loftier the spirit the greater is\nthe fall. I am sold into shame, and power is my price. Oh, cursed be\nthe fate of woman who only by her beauty can be great. Oh, cursed be\nthat ancient Counsellor thou wottest of, and cursed be I who wakened\nThat which slept, and warmed That which was a-cold in my breath and in\nmy breast! And cursed be this sin to which he led me! Spurn me, Rei;\nstrike me on the cheek, spit upon me, on Meriamun, the Royal harlot who\nsells herself to win a crown. Oh, I hate him, hate him, and I will pay\nhim in shame for shame\u2014him, the clown in king\u2019s attire. See here,\u2019\u2014and\nfrom her robe she drew a white flower that was known to her and\nme\u2014\u2018twice to-day have I been minded with this deadly blossom to make an\nend of me, and of all my shame, and all my empty greed of glory. But\nthis thought has held my hand: I, Meriamun, will live to look across\nhis grave and break his images, and beat out the writings of his name\nfrom every temple wall in Khem, as they beat out the hated name of\nHatshepu. I\u2014\u2014\u2019 and suddenly she burst into a rain of tears; she who was\nnot wont to weep.\n\n\u201c\u2018Nay, touch me not,\u2019 she said. \u2018They were but tears of anger. Meriamun\nis mistress of her Fate, not Fate of Meriamun. And now, my lord awaits\nme, and I must be gone. Kiss me on the brow, old friend, whilst yet I\nam the Meriamun thou knewest, and then kiss me no more for ever. At the\nleast this is well for thee, for when Meriamun is Queen of Khem thou\nshalt be first in all the land, and stand on the footsteps of my\nthrone. Farewell.\u2019 And she gathered up her raiment and cast her white\nflower of death in the flame of the brazier, and was gone, leaving me\nyet sadder at heart. For now I knew that she was not as other women\nare, but greater for good or evil.\n\n\u201cOn the morrow night I sat again at my task, and again there came a\nknocking at the door, and again a woman entered and threw aside her\nwrappings. It was Meriamun. She was pale and stern, and as I rose she\nwaved me back.\n\n\u201c\u2018Has, then, the Prince\u2014thy husband\u2014\u2014\u2019 I stammered.\n\n\u201c\u2018Speak not to me of the Prince, Rei, my servant,\u2019 she made answer.\n\u2018Yesterday I spoke to thee wildly, my mind was overwrought; let it be\nforgotten\u2014a wife am I, a happy wife\u2019; and she smiled so strangely that\nI shrunk back from her.\n\n\u201c\u2018Now to my errand. I have dreamed a dream, a troublous dream, and thou\nart wise and instructed, therefore I pray thee interpret my vision. I\nslept and dreamed of a man, and in my dream I loved him more than I can\ntell. For my heart beat to his heart, and in the light of him I lived,\nand all my soul was his, and I knew that I loved him for ever. And\nPharaoh was my husband; but, in my dream, I loved him not. Now there\ncame a woman rising out of the sea, more beautiful than I, with a\nbeauty fairer and more changeful than the dawn upon the mountains; and\nshe, too, loved this godlike man, and he loved her. Then we strove\ntogether for his love, matching beauty against beauty, and wit against\nwit, and magic against magic. Now one conquered, and now the other; but\nin the end the victory was mine, and I went arrayed as for a\nmarriage-bed\u2014and I clasped a corpse.\n\n\u201c\u2018I woke, and again I slept, and saw myself wearing another garb, and\nspeaking another tongue. Before me was the man I loved, and there, too,\nwas the woman, wrapped about with beauty, and I was changed, and yet I\nwas the very Meriamun thou seest. And once more we struggled for the\nmastery and for this man\u2019s love, and in that day she conquered me.\n\n\u201c\u2018I slept, and again I woke, and in another land than Khem\u2014a strange\nland, and yet methought I knew it from long ago. There I dwelt among\nthe graves, and dark faces were about me, and I wore That thou knowest\nfor a girdle. And the tombs of the rock wherein we dwelt were scored\nwith the writings of a dead tongue\u2014the tongue of that land whence our\nfathers came. We were all changed, yet the same, and once more the\nwoman and I struggled for the mastery, and though I seemed to conquer,\nyet a sea of fire came over me, and I woke and I slept again.\n\n\u201c\u2018Then confusion was piled upon confusion, nor can my memory hold all\nthat came to pass. For this game played itself afresh in lands, and\nlives, and tongues without number. Only the last bout and the winner\nwere not revealed to me.\n\n\u201c\u2018And in my dream I cried aloud to the protecting Gods to escape out of\nthe dream, and I sought for light that I might see whence these things\nwere. Then, as in a vision, the Past opened up its gates. It seemed\nthat upon a time, thousand, thousand ages agone, I and this man of my\ndream had arisen from nothingness and looked in each other\u2019s eyes, and\nloved with a love unspeakable, and vowed a vow that shall endure from\ntime to time and world to world. For we were not mortal then, but\npartook of the nature of the Gods, being more fair and great than any\nof human kind, and our happiness was the happiness of Heaven. But in\nour great joy we hearkened to the Voice of That thou knowest, of that\nThing, Rei, with which, against thy counsel, I have but lately dealt.\nThe kiss of our love awakened That which slept, the fire of our love\nwarmed That which was a-cold! We defied the holy Gods, worshipping them\nnot, but rather each the other, for we knew that as the Gods we were\neternal. And the Gods were angered against us and drew us up into their\npresence. And while we trembled they spake as with a voice:\n\n\u201c\u2018\u201cYe twain who are one life, each completing each, because with your\nkisses ye have wakened That which slept, and with the fire of your love\nhave warmed That which was a-cold: because ye have forgotten them that\ngave you life and love and joy: hearken to your Doom!\n\n\u201c\u2018\u201cFrom Two be ye made _Three_, and through all Time strive ye to be\nTwain again. Pass from this Holy Place down to the Hell of Earth, and\nthough ye be immortal put on the garments of mortality. Pass on from\nLife to Life, live and love and hate and seem to die: have acquaintance\nwith every lot, and in your blind forgetfulness, being one and being\nequal, work each other\u2019s woe according to the law of Earth, and for\nyour love\u2019s sake sin and be shamed, perish and re-arise, appear to\nconquer and be conquered, pursuing your threefold destiny, and, at the\nword of Fate, the unaltering circle meets, and the veil of blindness\nfalls from your eyes, and, as a scroll, your folly is unrolled, and the\nhid purpose of your sorrow is accomplished and once more ye are Twain\nand One.\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2018Then, as we trembled, clinging each to each, again the great Voice\nspoke:\n\n\u201c\u2018\u201cYe twain who are One\u2014let That to which ye have hearkened divide you\nand enfold you! Be ye Three!\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2018And as the Voice spoke I was torn with agony, and strength went out\nof me, and there, by him I loved, stood the woman of my dream crowned\nwith every glory and adorned with the Star. And we were three. And\nbetween him and me, yet enfolding him and me, writhed that Thing thou\nwottest of. And he whom I loved turned to look upon the fair woman,\nwondering, and she smiled and stretched out her arm towards him as one\nwho would take that which is her own, and Rei, in that hour, though it\nwas but in a dream, I knew the mortal pain of jealousy, and awoke\ntrembling. And now read thou this vision, Rei, thou who art learned in\nthe interpretation of dreams and in the ways of sleep.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Oh, Lady,\u2019 I made answer, \u2018this thing is too high for me, I cannot\ninterpret it; but where thou art, there may I be to help thee.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018I know thy love,\u2019 she said, \u2018but in thy words is little light.\nSo\u2014so\u2014let it pass! It was but a dream, and if indeed it came from the\nUnder World, why, it was from no helpful God, but rather from Set, the\nTormentor; or from Pasht, the Terrible, who throws the creeping shadow\nof her doom upon the mirror of my sleep. For that which is decreed will\nsurely come to pass! I am blown like the dust by the breath of Fate;\nnow to rest upon the Temple\u2019s loftiest tops, now to be trodden\nunderfoot of slaves, and now to be swallowed by the bitter deep, and in\nseason thence rolled forth again. I love not this lord of mine, who\nshall be Pharaoh, and never may _he_ come whom I shall love. \u2019Tis well\nthat I love him not, for to love is to be a slave. When the heart is\ncold then the hand is strong, and I am fain to be the Queen leading\nPharaoh by the beard, the first of all the ancient land of Khem; for I\nwas not born to serve. Nay, while I may, I rule, awaiting the end of\nrule. Look forth, Rei, and see how the rays from Mother Isis\u2019 throne\nflood all the courts and all the city\u2019s streets and break in light upon\nthe water\u2019s breast. So shall the Moon-child\u2019s flame flood all this land\nof Khem. What matters it, if ere the morn Isis must pass to her\ndominion of the Dead, and the voice of Meriamun be hushed within a\nsepulchre?\u2019\n\n\u201cSo she spoke and went thence, and on her face was no bride\u2019s smile,\nbut rather such a gaze as that with which the great sphinx, Horemku,\nlooks out across the desert sands.\u201d\n\n\u201cA strange Queen, Rei,\u201d said the Wanderer, as he paused, \u201cbut what have\nI to make in this tale of a bride and her mad dreams?\u201d\n\n\u201cMore than thou shalt desire,\u201d said Rei; \u201cbut let us come to the end,\nand thou shalt hear thy part in the Fate.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\nTHE KA, THE BAI, AND THE KHOU\n\n\n\u201cThe Divine Pharaoh Rameses died and was gathered to Osiris. With these\nhands I closed his coffin and set him in his splendid tomb, where he\nshall rest unharmed for ever till the day of the awakening. And\nMeriamun and Meneptah reigned in Khem. But to Pharaoh she was very\ncold, though he did her will in everything, and they had but one child,\nso that in a while he wearied of her loveliness.\n\n\u201cBut hers was the master-mind, and she ruled Pharaoh as she ruled all\nelse.\n\n\u201cFor me, my lot was bettered; she talked much with me, and advanced me\nto great dignity, so that I was the first Master Builder in Khem, and\nCommander of the legion of Amen.\n\n\u201cNow it chanced that Meriamun made a feast, where she entertained\nPharaoh and Hataska sat beside him. She was the first lady about the\nQueen\u2019s person, a beautiful but insolent woman, who had gained\nPharaoh\u2019s favour for the hour. Now wine worked so with the King that he\ntoyed openly with the lady Hataska\u2019s hand, but Meriamun the Queen took\nno note, though Hataska, who had also drunk of the warm wine of the\nLower Land, grew insolent, as was her wont. She quaffed deep from her\ncup of gold, and bade a slave bear it to the Queen, crying, \u2018Pledge me,\nmy sister.\u2019\n\n\u201cThe meaning of her message was plain to all who heard; this waiting\nlady openly declared herself wife to Pharaoh and an equal of the Queen.\nNow Meriamun cared nothing for Pharaoh\u2019s love, but for power she did\ncare, and she frowned, while a light shone in her dark eyes; yet she\ntook the cup and touched it with her lips.\n\n\u201cPresently she lifted her own cup in turn and toyed with it, then made\npretence to drink, and said softly to the King\u2019s paramour, who had\npledged her:\n\n\u201c\u2018Pledge me in answer, Hataska, my servant, for soon, methinks, thou\nshalt be greater than the Queen.\u2019\n\n\u201cNow this foolish woman read her saying wrong, and took the golden cup\nfrom the eunuch who bore it.\n\n\u201cWith a little nod to the Queen, and a wave of her slim hand, Hataska\ndrank, and instantly, with a great cry, she fell dead across the board.\nThen, while all the company sat in terror, neither daring to be silent\nnor to speak, and while Meriamun smiled scornfully on the dark head\nlying low among the roses on the board, Pharaoh leaped up, mad with\nwrath, and called to the guards to seize the Queen. But she waved them\nback, and, speaking in a slow, cold voice, she said:\n\n\u201c\u2018Dare not to touch Khem\u2019s anointed Queen lest your fate be as _her_\nfate. For thee, Meneptah, forget not thy marriage oath. What, am I\nQueen, and shall thy wantons throw their insolence in my teeth and name\nme their sister? Not so, for if my eyes be blind yet my ears are open.\nPeace, she is rightly served\u2014choose thou a lowlier mistress!\u2019\n\n\u201cAnd Pharaoh made no answer, for he feared her with an ever-growing\nfear. But she, sinking back in her seat of state, played with the gold\nkepher on her breast, and watched them bear the body forth to the House\nof Osiris. One by one all the company made obeisance and passed thence,\nglad to be gone, till at the last there were left only Pharaoh and\nMeriamun the Queen, and myself\u2014Rei the Priest\u2014for all were much afraid.\nThen Pharaoh spoke, looking neither at her nor at me, and half in fear,\nhalf in anger.\n\n\u201c\u2018Thou hateful woman, accursed be the day when first I looked upon thy\nbeauty. Thou hast conquered me, but beware, for I am still Pharaoh and\nthy Lord. Cross my purpose once again, and, by Him who sleeps at Phil\u00e6,\nI will discrown thee and give thy body to the tormentors, and set thy\nsoul loose to follow her whom thou hast slain.\u2019\n\n\u201cThen Meriamun answered proudly:\n\n\u201c\u2018Pharaoh, be warned: lift but one finger against my majesty and thou\nart doomed. Thou canst not slay me, but I can over-match thee, and I\nswear by the same oath! By Him who sleeps at Phil\u00e6, lift a hand against\nme, ay, harbour one thought of treachery, and thou diest. Not lightly\ncan I be deceived, for I have messengers that thou canst not hear.\nSomething, Royal Meneptah, do I know of the magic of that Queen Taia\nwho was before me. Now listen\u2014do this one thing and all shall be well.\nGo on thy path and leave me to follow mine. Queen I am, Queen I will\nremain, and in all matters of the State mine must be an equal voice\nthough it is thine that speaks. And, for the rest, we are apart\nhenceforth, for thou fearest me, and Meneptah, I love not thee, nor any\nman.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018As thou hast spoken, so be it,\u2019 quoth Pharaoh, for his heart sank,\nand his fear came back upon him. \u2018Evil was the day when first we met,\nand this is the price of my desire. Henceforth we are apart in bed and\nboard, but in the council we are still one, for our ends are one. I\nknow thy power, Meriamun, thou gifted of the evil Gods; thou needest\nnot fear that I shall seek to slay thee, for a spear cast against the\nheavens returns on him who threw it. Rei, my servant, thou art witness\nto our oaths; hear now their undoing. Meriamun, the Queen of ancient\nKhem, thou art no more wife of mine. Farewell.\u2019\n\n\u201cAnd he went heavily and stricken with fear.\n\n\u201c\u2018Nay,\u2019 she said, gazing after him, \u2018no more am I Meneptah\u2019s wife, but\nstill am I Khem\u2019s dreaded Queen. Oh, thou old priest, I am aweary. See\nwhat a lot is mine, who have all things but love, and yet am sick of\nall! I longed for power, and power is mine, and what is power? It is a\nrod wherewith we beat the air that straightway closes on the stroke.\nYes, I tire of my loveless days and of this dull round of common\nthings. Oh, for one hour of love and in that hour to die! Oh that the\nfuture would lift its veil and disclose the face of time to be! Say,\nRei! Wilt thou be bold and dare a deed?\u2019 And she clasped me by the\nsleeve and whispered in my ear, in the dead tongue known to her and\nme\u2014\u2018Her I slew\u2014thou sawest\u2014\u2014\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Ay, Queen, I saw\u2014what of her? \u2019Twas ill done.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Nay, \u2019twas rightly done and well done. But thou knowest she is not\nyet cold, nor for a while will be, and I have the art to drag her\nspirit back ere she be cold, from where she is, and to force knowledge\nfrom her lips\u2014for being an Osiris all the future is open to her in this\nhour.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Nay, nay,\u2019 I cried. \u2018It is unholy\u2014not lightly may we disturb the\ndead, lest the Guardian Gods be moved to anger.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Yet will I do it, Rei. If thou dost fear, come not. But I go. I am\nfain for knowledge, and thus only may I win it. If I die in the dread\nendeavour, write this of Meriamun the Queen: That in seeking the\nto-be\u2014she found it!\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Nay, Royal Lady,\u2019 I answered, \u2018thou shalt not go alone. I too have\nsome skill in magic, and perchance can ward evil from thee. So, if\nindeed thou wilt dare this dreadful thing, behold now, as ever, I am\nthy servant.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018It is well. See, now, the body will this night be laid in the\nsanctuary of the Temple of Osiris that is near the great gates, as is\nthe custom, to await the coming of the embalmers. Come ere she be\ncolder than my heart, come with me, Rei, to the house of the Lord of\nthe Dead!\u2019\n\n\u201cShe passed to her chamber, wrapped herself about in a dark robe, and\nhurried with me to the Temple doors, where we were challenged by the\nguards.\n\n\u201c\u2018Who passes? In the name of the Holy Osiris speak.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Rei, the Master Builder and the anointed Priest, and with him\nanother,\u2019 I made answer. \u2018Open.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Nay, I open not. There is one within who may not be wakened.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Who, then, is within?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018She whom the Queen slew.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018The Queen sends one who would look on her she slew.\u2019\n\n\u201cThen the priest gazed on the hooded form beside me and started back,\ncrying, \u2018A token, noble Rei.\u2019\n\n\u201cI held up the Royal signet, and, bowing, he opened. Being come within\nthe Temple I lit the tapers that had been prepared. Then by their\nfeeble light we passed through the outer hall till we came to the\ncurtains that veil the sanctuary of the Holy Place, and here I quenched\nthe tapers; for no fire must enter there, save that which burns upon\nthe altar of the dead. But through the curtains came rays of light.\n\n\u201c\u2018Open!\u2019 said Meriamun, and I opened, and hand in hand we passed in. On\nthe altar that is in the place the flame burnt brightly. The chamber is\nnot wide and great, for this is the smallest of the temples of Tanis,\nbut yet so large that the light could not reach its walls nor pierce\nthe overhanging gloom, and by much gazing scarcely could we discover\nthe outline of the graven shapes of the Holy Gods that are upon the\nwalls. But the light fell clear upon the great statue of the Osiris\nthat was seated behind the altar fashioned in the black stone of Syene,\nwound about with the corpse-cloths, wearing on his head the crown of\nthe Upper Land, and holding in his hands the crook of divinity and the\nawful scourge of punishment. The light shone all about the white and\ndreadful shape that was placed upon his holy knees, the naked shape of\nlost Hataska who this night had died at the hand of Meriamun. There she\nbowed her head against the sacred breast, her long hair streaming down\non either side, her arms tied across her heart, and her eyes, whence\nthe hues of life had scarcely faded, widely staring at the darkness of\nthe shrine. For at Tanis to this day it is the custom for a night to\nplace those of high birth or office who die suddenly upon the knees of\nthe statue of Osiris.\n\n\u201c\u2018See,\u2019 I said to the Queen, speaking low, for the weight of the\nhaunted place sank into my heart, \u2018see how she who scarce an hour ago\nwas but a lovely wanton hath by thine act been clad in majesty greater\nthan all the glory of the earth. Bethink thee, wilt thou dare indeed to\nsummon back the spirit to the body whence thou hast set it free? Not\neasily, O Queen, may it be done for all thy magic, and if perchance she\nanswereth thee, it may well be that the terror of her words shall\nutterly o\u2019erwhelm us.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Nay,\u2019 she made answer, \u2018I am instructed. I fear not. I know by what\nname to call the Khou that hovers on the threshold of the Double Hall\nof Truth, and how to send it back to its own place. I fear not, but if\nperchance thou fearest, Rei, depart hence and leave me to the task\nalone.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Nay,\u2019 I said. \u2018I also am instructed, and I go not. But I say to thee\nthat this is unholy.\u2019\n\n\u201cThen Meriamun spoke no more\u2014but lifting up her hands she held them\nheavenwards, and so for a while she stood, her face fixed, as was the\nface of dead Hataska. Then, as must be done, I drew the circle round us\nand round the altar and the statue of Osiris, and that which sat upon\nhis knee. With my staff I drew it, and standing therein I said the holy\nwords which should ward away the evil things that come near in such an\nhour.\n\n\u201cNow Meriamun threw a certain powder into the flame upon the altar.\nThrice she threw the powder, and as she threw it a ball of flame rose\nfrom the altar and floated away, each time that she threw did the ball\nof fire rise; and this it was needful to do, for by fire only may the\ndead be manifest, and therefore was a globe of fire given to each of\nthe three shapes that together make the threefold spirit of the dead.\nAnd when the three globes of fire had melted into air, passing over the\nhead of the statue of Osiris, thrice did Meriamun cry aloud:\n\n\u201c\u2018_Hataska! Hataska! Hataska!_\n\n\u201c\u2018By the dreadful Name I summon thee.\n\n\u201c\u2018I summon thee from the threshold of the Double Hall.\n\n\u201c\u2018I summon thee from the Gates of Judgment.\n\n\u201c\u2018I summon thee from the door of Doom.\n\n\u201c\u2018By the link of life and death that is between thee and me, I bid thee\ncome from where thou art and make answer to that which I shall ask of\nthee.\u2019\n\n\u201cShe ceased, but no answer came. Still the cold Osiris smiled, and\nstill the body on his knee sat with open eyes gazing into nothingness.\n\n\u201c\u2018Not thus easily,\u2019 I whispered, \u2018may this dreadful thing be done. Thou\nart instructed in the Word of Fear. If thou darest, let it pass thy\nlips, or let us be gone.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Nay, it shall be spoken,\u2019 she said\u2014and thus she wrought. Passing to\nthe statue she hid her head within her cloak and with both hands\ngrasped the feet of the slain Hataska.\n\n\u201cSeeing this I also crouched upon the floor and hid my face, for it is\ndeath to hear that Word with an uncovered face.\n\n\u201cThen in so soft a whisper that scarce had its breath stirred a feather\non her lips, Meriamun spoke the Word of Fear which may not be written,\nwhose sound has power to pass all space and open the ears of the dead\nwho dwell in Amenti. Softly she said it, for in a shout of thunder it\nwas caught up and echoed from her lips, and down the eternal halls it\nseemed to rush on the feet of storm and the wings of wind, so that the\nroof rocked and the deep foundations of the Temple quivered like a\nwind-stirred tree.\n\n\u201c\u2018Unveil, ye mortals!\u2019 cried a dreadful voice, \u2018and look upon the sight\nof fear that ye have dared to summon.\u2019\n\n\u201cAnd I rose and cast my cloak from about my face and gazed, then sank\ndown in terror. For round about the circle that I had drawn pressed all\nthe multitude of the dead; countless as the desert sands they pressed,\ngazing with awful eyes upon us twain. And the fire that was on the\naltar died away, but yet was there light, for it shone from those dead\neyes, and in the eyes of lost Hataska there was light.\n\n\u201cAnd ever the faces changed, never for one beat of time did they cease\nto change. For as we gazed upon a face it would melt, even to the eyes,\nand round these same eyes again would gather but no more the same. And\nlike the sloping sides of pyramids were the faces set about us from the\nground to the Temple roof\u2014and on us were fixed their glowing eyes.\n\n\u201cAnd I, Rei, being instructed, knew that to suffer myself to be\novercome with terror was death, as it was death to pass without the\ncircle. So in my heart I called upon Osiris, Lord of the Dead, to\nprotect us, and even as I named the ineffable name, lo! all the\nthousand thousand faces bent themselves in adoration and then, turning,\nlooked each upon the other even as though each spake to each, and\nchanged, and swiftly changed.\n\n\u201c\u2018Meriamun,\u2019 I said, gathering up my strength, \u2018fear not, but beware!\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Nay, wherefore should I fear,\u2019 she answered, \u2018because the veil of\nsense is torn, and for an hour we see those who are ever about our path\nand whose eyes watch our most secret thought continually? I fear not.\u2019\nAnd she stepped boldly, even to the edge of the circle, and cried:\n\n\u201c\u2018All hail, ye Sahus, spirits of the awful dead, among whom I also\nshall be numbered.\u2019\n\n\u201cAnd as she came the changing faces shrunk away, leaving a space before\nher. And in the space there grew two arms, mighty and black, that\nstretched themselves towards her, until there was not the length of\nthree grains of wheat betwixt the clutching fingers and her breast.\n\n\u201cBut Meriamun only laughed and drew back a space.\n\n\u201c\u2018Not so, thou Enemy,\u2019 she said, \u2018this circle thou may\u2019st not break; it\nis too strong for thee. But to the work. Hataska, once again by the\nlink of life and death I summon thee\u2014and this time thou must come, thou\nwho wast a wanton and now art \u201cgreater than the Queen.\u201d\u2019\n\n\u201cAnd as she spoke, from the dead form of the woman on Osiris\u2019 knee\nthere issued forth another form and stood before us, as a snake issues\nfrom its slough. And as was the dead Hataska so was this form, feature\nfor feature, look for look, and limb for limb. But still the corpse\nrested upon Osiris\u2019 knee, for this was but the _Ka_ that stood before\nus.\n\n\u201cAnd thus spoke the voice of Hataska in the lips of the Ka:\n\n\u201c\u2018What wouldest thou with me who am no more of thy company, O thou by\nwhose hand my body did perish? Why troublest thou me?\u2019\n\n\u201cAnd Meriamun made answer: \u2018I would this of thee, that thou shouldest\ndeclare unto me the future, even in the presence of this great company.\nSpeak, I command thee.\u2019\n\n\u201cAnd the Ka said: \u2018Nay, Meriamun, that I cannot do, for I am but the\nKa\u2014the Dweller in the Tomb, the guardian of what was Hataska whom thou\ndidst slay, whom I must watch through all the days of death till\nresurrection is. Of the future I know naught; seek thou that which\nknows.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Stand thou on one side,\u2019 quoth the Queen, and the Dweller in the Tomb\nobeyed.\n\n\u201cThen once more she called upon Hataska and there came a sound of\nrushing wings. And behold, on the head of the statue of Osiris sat a\ngreat bird, feathered as it were with gold. But the bird had the head\nof a woman, and the face was fashioned as the face of Hataska. And thus\nit spoke, that was the _Bai_:\n\n\u201c\u2018What wouldest thou with me, Meriamun, who am no more of thy company?\nWhy dost thou draw me from the Under World, thou by whose hand my body\ndid perish?\u2019\n\n\u201cAnd Meriamun said: \u2018This I would of thee, that thou shouldest declare\nunto me the future. Speak, I command thee.\u2019\n\n\u201cAnd the Bai said: \u2018Nay, Meriamun, that I cannot do. I am but the Bai\nof her who was Hataska, and I fly from Death to Life and Life to Death,\ntill the hour of awakening is. Of the future I know naught; seek thou\nthat which knows.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Rest thou where thou art,\u2019 quoth the Queen, and there it rested,\nawful to see.\n\n\u201cThen once more Meriamun called upon Hataska, bidding her hear the\nsummons where she was.\n\n\u201cAnd behold the eyes of the Dead One that was upon the knee of Osiris\nglowed, and glowed the eyes of the Dweller in the Tomb, and of the\nwinged Messenger who sat above. And then there was a sound as the sound\nof wind, and from above, cleaving the darkness, descended a Tongue of\nFlame and rested on the brow of the dead Hataska. And the eyes of all\nthe thousand thousand spirits turned and gazed upon the Tongue of\nFlame. And then dead Hataska spoke\u2014though her lips moved not, yet she\nspoke. And this she said:\n\n\u201c\u2018What wouldest thou with me, Meriamun, who am no more of thy company?\nWhy dost thou dare to trouble me, thou by whose hand my body did\nperish, drawing me from the threshold of the Double Hall of Truth, back\nto the Over World?\u2019\n\n\u201cAnd Meriamun the Queen said, \u2018Oh, thou _Khou_, for this purpose have I\ncalled thee. I am aweary of my days and I fain would learn the future.\nThe future fain would I learn, but the forked tongue of That which\nsleeps tells me no word, and the lips of That which is a-cold are dumb!\nTell me, then, thou, I charge thee by the word that has power to open\nthe lips of the dead, thou who in all things art instructed, what shall\nbe the burden of my days?\u2019\n\n\u201cAnd the dread Khou made answer: \u2018Love shall be the burden of thy days,\nand Death shall be the burden of thy love. Behold one draws near from\nout the North whom thou hast loved, whom thou shalt love from life to\nlife, till all things are accomplished. Bethink thee of a dream that\nthou dreamedst as thou didst lie on Pharaoh\u2019s bed, and read its riddle.\nMeriamun, thou art great and thy name is known upon the earth, and in\nAmenti is thy name known. High is thy fate, and through blood and\nsorrow shalt thou find it. I have spoken, let me hence.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018It is well,\u2019 the Queen made answer: \u2018But not yet mayest thou go\nhence. First I command thee, by the word of dread and by the link of\nlife and death, declare unto me if here upon the earth and in this life\nI shall possess him whom I shall love?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018In sin and craft and sorrow, Meriamun, thou shalt possess him; in\nshame and jealous agony he shall be taken from thee by one who is\nstronger than thou, though thou art strong; by one more beautiful than\nthou, though thou art beautiful; and ruin thou shalt give him for his\nguerdon, and ruin of the heart shalt thou harvest for thy portion. But\nfor this time she shall escape thee, whose footsteps march with thine,\nand with his who shall be thine and hers. Nevertheless, in a day to\ncome thou shalt pay her back measure for measure, and evil for evil. I\nhave spoken. Let me hence.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Not yet, O Khou\u2014not yet. I have still to learn. Show me the face of\nher who is mine enemy, and the face of him who is my love.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Thrice mayest thou speak to me, O thou greatly daring,\u2019 answered the\ndread Khou, \u2018and thrice I may make reply, and then farewell till I meet\nthee on the threshold of the hall whence thou hast drawn me. Look now\non the face of that Hataska whom thou slewest.\u2019\n\n\u201cAnd we looked, and behold the face of dead Hataska changed, and\nchanged the face of the Double, the _Ka_ that stood on one side, and\nthe face of the great bird, the _Bai_, that spread his wings about the\nhead of Osiris. And they grew beautiful, yes, most exceeding beautiful\nso that it cannot be told, and the beauty was that of a woman asleep.\nThen lo, there hung above Hataska, as it were, the shadow of one who\nwas watching her sleeping. And his face we saw not, O thou Wanderer, it\nwas hidden by the visor of a golden two-horned helm, and in that helm\nstood fast _the bronze point of a broken spear_! But he was clad in the\narmour of the people of the Northern Sea, the Aquaiusha, and his hair\nfell dark about his shoulders like the petals of the hyacinth flower.\n\n\u201c\u2018Behold thine enemy and behold thy love! Farewell,\u2019 said the dread\nKhou, speaking through dead Hataska\u2019s lips, and as the words died the\nbeauty faded and the Tongue of Flame shot upwards and was lost, and\nonce more the eyes of the thousand thousand dead turned and looked upon\neach other, even as though their lips whispered each to each.\n\n\u201cBut for a while Meriamun stood silent, as one amazed. Then, awaking,\nshe waved her hand and cried, \u2018Begone, thou _Bai_! Begone, thou _Ka_!\u2019\n\n\u201cAnd the great bird whereof the face was as the face of Hataska spread\nhis golden wings and passed away to his own place, and the Ka that was\nin the semblance of Hataska drew near to the dead one\u2019s knees, and\npassed back into her from whom she came. And all the thousand thousand\nfaces melted though the fiery eyes still gazed upon us.\n\n\u201cThen Meriamun covered her head and once more spoke the awful Word, and\nI also covered up my head. But, as must be done, this second time she\ncalled the Word aloud, and yet though she called it loud, it came but\nas a tiny whisper from her lips. Nevertheless, at the sound of it, once\nmore was the Temple shaken as by a storm.\n\n\u201cThen Meriamun unveiled, and behold, again the fire burned upon the\naltar, and on the knees of the Osiris sat Hataska, cold and still in\ndeath, and round them was emptiness and silence.\n\n\u201c\u2018Now that all is done, I greatly fear for that which has been, and\nthat which shall be. Lead me hence, O Rei, son of Pames, for I can no\nmore.\u2019\n\n\u201cAnd so with a heavy heart I led her forth, who of all sorceresses is\nthe very greatest. Behold, thou Wanderer, wherefore the Queen was\ntroubled at the coming of the man in the armour of the North, in whose\ntwo-horned golden helm stands fast the point of a broken spear.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nBOOK II\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\nTHE PROPHETS OF THE APURA\n\n\n\u201cThese things are not without the Gods,\u201d said the Wanderer, who was\ncalled Eperitus, when he had heard all the tale of Rei the Priest, son\nof Pames, the Head Architect, the Commander of the Legion of Amen. Then\nhe sat silent for a while, and at last raised his eyes and looked upon\nthe old man.\n\n\u201cThou hast told a strange tale, Rei. Over many a sea have I wandered,\nand in many a land I have sojourned. I have seen the ways of many\npeoples, and have heard the voices of the immortal Gods. Dreams have\ncome to me and marvels have compassed me about. It has been laid upon\nme to go down into Hades, that land which thou namest Amenti, and to\nlook on the tribes of the Dead; but never till now have I known so\nstrange a thing. For mark thou, when first I beheld this fair Queen of\nthine I thought she looked upon me strangely, as one who knew my face.\nAnd now, Rei, if thou speakest truth, _she_ deems that she has met me\nin the ways of night and magic. Say, then, who was the man of the\nvision of the Queen, the man with dark and curling locks, clad in\ngolden armour after the fashion of the Ach\u00e6ans whom ye name the\nAquaiusha, wearing on his head a golden helm, wherein was fixed a\nbroken spear?\u201d\n\n\u201cBefore me sits such a man,\u201d said Rei, \u201cor perchance it is a God that\nmy eyes behold.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo God am I,\u201d quoth the Wanderer, smiling, \u201cthough the Sidonians\ndeemed me nothing less when the black bow twanged and the swift shafts\nflew. Read me the riddle, thou that art instructed.\u201d\n\nNow the aged Priest looked upon the ground, then turned his eyes\nupward, and with muttering lips prayed to Thoth, the God of Wisdom. And\nwhen he had made an end of prayer he spoke.\n\n\u201c_Thou_ art the man,\u201d he said. \u201cOut of the sea thou hast come to bring\nthe doom of love on the Lady Meriamun and on thyself the doom of death.\nThis I knew, but of the rest I know nothing. Now, I pray thee, oh thou\nwho comest in the armour of the North, thou whose face is clothed in\nbeauty, and who art of all men the mightiest and hast of all men the\nsweetest and most guileful tongue, go back, go back into the sea whence\nthou camest, and the lands whence thou hast wandered.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot thus easily may men escape their doom,\u201d quoth the Wanderer. \u201cMy\ndeath may come, as come it must; but know this, Rei, I do not seek the\nlove of Meriamun.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen it well may chance that thou shalt find it, for ever those who\nseek love lose, and those who seek not find.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am come to seek another love,\u201d said the Wanderer, \u201cand I seek her\ntill I die.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen I pray the Gods that thou mayest find her, and that Khem may thus\nbe saved from sorrow. But here in Egypt there is no woman so fair as\nMeriamun, and thou must seek farther as quickly as may be. And now,\nEperitus, behold I must away to do service in the Temple of the Holy\nAmen, for I am his High Priest. But I am commanded by Pharaoh first to\nbring thee to the feast at the Palace.\u201d\n\nThen he led the Wanderer from his chamber and brought him by a side\nentrance to the great Palace of the Pharaoh at Tanis, near the Temple\nof Ptah. And first he took him to a chamber that had been made ready\nfor him in the Palace, a beautiful chamber, richly painted with\nbeast-headed Gods and furnished with ivory chairs, and couches of ebony\nand silver, and with a gilded bed.\n\nThen the Wanderer went into the shining baths, and dark-eyed girls\nbathed him and anointed him with fragrant oil, and crowned him with\nlotus flowers. When they had bathed him they bade him lay aside his\ngolden armour and his bow and the quiver full of arrows, but this the\nWanderer would not do, for as he laid the black bow down it thrilled\nwith a thin sound of war. So Rei led him, armed as he was, to a certain\nantechamber, and there he left him, saying that he would return again\nwhen the feast was done. Trumpets blared as the Wanderer waited, drums\nrolled, and through the wide thrown curtains swept the lovely Meriamun\nand the divine Pharaoh Meneptah, with many lords and ladies of the\nCourt, all crowned with roses and with lotus blooms.\n\nThe Queen was decked in Royal attire, her shining limbs were veiled in\nbroidered silk; about her shoulders was a purple robe, and round her\nneck and arms were rings of well-wrought gold. She was stately and\nsplendid to see, with pale brows and beautiful disdainful eyes where\ndreams seemed to sleep beneath the shadow of her eyelashes. On she\nswept in all her state and pride of beauty, and behind her came the\nPharaoh. He was a tall man, but ill-made and heavy-browed, and to the\nWanderer it seemed that he was heavy-hearted too, and that care and\nterror of evil to come were always in his mind.\n\nMeriamun looked up swiftly.\n\n\u201cGreeting, Stranger,\u201d she said. \u201cThou comest in warlike guise to grace\nour feast.\u201d\n\n\u201cMethought, Royal Lady,\u201d he made answer, \u201cthat anon when I would have\nlaid it by, this bow of mine sang to me of present war. Therefore I am\ncome armed\u2014even to thy feast.\u201d\n\n\u201cHas thy bow such foresight, Eperitus?\u201d said the Queen. \u201cI have heard\nbut once of such a weapon, and that in a minstrel\u2019s tale. He came to\nour Court with his lyre from the Northern Sea, and he sang of the Bow\nof Odysseus.\u201d\n\n\u201cMinstrel or not, thou does well to come armed, Wanderer,\u201d said the\nPharaoh; \u201cfor if thy bow sings, my own heart mutters much to me of war\nto be.\u201d\n\n\u201cFollow me, Wanderer, however it fall out,\u201d said the Queen.\n\nSo he followed her and the Pharaoh till they came to a splendid hall,\ncarven round with images of fighting and feasting. Here, on the painted\nwalls, Rameses Miamun drove the thousands of the Khita before his\nsingle valour; here men hunted wild-fowl through the marshes with a\ngreat cat for their hound. Never had the Wanderer beheld such a hall\nsince he supped with the Sea King of the fairy isle. On the da\u00efs,\nraised above the rest, sat the Pharaoh, and by him sat Meriamun the\nQueen, and by the Queen sat the Wanderer in the golden armour of Paris,\nand he leaned the black bow against his ivory chair.\n\nNow the feast went on and men ate and drank. The Queen spoke little,\nbut she watched the Wanderer beneath the lids of her deep-fringed eyes.\n\nSuddenly, as they feasted and grew merry, the doors at the end of the\nchamber were thrown wide, the Guards fell back in fear, and behold, at\nthe end of the hall, stood two men. Their faces were tawny, dry, wasted\nwith desert wandering; their noses were hooked like eagles\u2019 beaks, and\ntheir eyes were yellow as the eyes of lions. They were clad in rough\nskins of beasts, girdled about their waists with leathern thongs, and\nfiercely they lifted their naked arms, and waved their wands of cedar.\nBoth men were old, one was white-bearded, the other was shaven smooth\nlike the priests of Egypt. As they lifted the rods on high the Guards\nshrank like beaten hounds, and all the guests hid their faces, save\nMeriamun and the Wanderer alone. Even Pharaoh dared not look on them,\nbut he murmured angrily in his beard:\n\n\u201cBy the name of Osiris,\u201d he said, \u201chere be those Soothsayers of the\nApura once again. Now Death waits on those who let them pass the\ndoors.\u201d\n\nThen one of the two men, he who was shaven like a priest, cried with a\ngreat voice:\n\n\u201c_Pharaoh! Pharaoh! Pharaoh!_ Hearken to the word of Jahveh. Wilt thou\nlet the people go?\u201d\n\n\u201cI will not let them go,\u201d he answered.\n\n\u201c_Pharaoh! Pharaoh! Pharaoh!_ Hearken to the word of Jahveh. If thou\nwilt not let the people go, then shall all the firstborn of Khem, of\nthe Prince and the slave, of the ox and the ass, be smitten of Jahveh.\nWilt thou let the people go?\u201d\n\nNow Pharaoh hearkened, and those who were at the feast rose and cried\nwith a loud voice:\n\n\u201cO Pharaoh, let the people go! Great woes are fallen upon Khem because\nof the Apura. O Pharaoh, let the people go!\u201d\n\nNow Pharaoh\u2019s heart was softened and he was minded to let them go, but\nMeriamun turned to him and said:\n\n\u201cThou shalt not let the people go. It is not these slaves, nor the God\nof these slaves, who bring the plagues on Khem, but it is that strange\nGoddess, the False Hathor, who dwells here in the city of Tanis. Be not\nso fearful\u2014ever hadst thou a coward heart. Drive the False Hathor\nthence if thou wilt, but hold these slaves to their bondage. I still\nhave cities that must be built, and yon slaves shall build them.\u201d\n\nThen the Pharaoh cried: \u201cHence! I bid you. Hence, and to-morrow shall\nyour people be laden with a double burden and their backs shall be red\nwith stripes. I will not let the people go!\u201d\n\nThen the two men cried aloud, and pointing upward with their staffs\nthey vanished from the hall, and none dared to lay hands on them, but\nthose who sat at the feast murmured much.\n\nNow the Wanderer marvelled why Pharaoh did not command the Guards to\ncut down these unbidden guests, who spoiled his festival. The Queen\nMeriamun saw the wonder in his eyes and turned to him.\n\n\u201cKnow thou, Eperitus,\u201d she said, \u201cthat great plagues have come of late\non this land of ours\u2014plagues of lice and frogs and flies and darkness,\nand the changing of pure waters to blood. And these things our Lord the\nPharaoh deems have been brought upon us by the curse of yonder\nmagicians, conjurers and priests among certain slaves who work in the\nland at the building of our cities. But I know well that the curses\ncome on us from Hathor, the Lady of Love, because of that woman who\nhath set herself up here in Tanis, and is worshipped as the Hathor.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy then, O Queen,\u201d said the Wanderer, \u201cis this false Goddess suffered\nto abide in your fair city? for, as I know well, the immortal Gods are\never angered with those who turn from their worship to bow before\nstrange altars.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy is she suffered? Nay, ask of Pharaoh my Lord. Methinks it is\nbecause her beauty is more than the beauty of women, so the men say who\nhave looked on it, but I have not seen it, for only those men see it\nwho go to worship at her shrine, and then from afar. It is not meet\nthat the Queen of all the Lands should worship at the shrine of a\nstrange woman, come\u2014like thyself, Eperitus\u2014from none knows where: if\nindeed she be a woman and not a fiend from the Under World. But if thou\nwouldest learn more, ask my Lord the Pharaoh, for he knows the Shrine\nof the False Hathor, and he knows who guard it, and what is it that\nbars the way.\u201d\n\nNow the Wanderer turned to Pharaoh saying: \u201cO Pharaoh, may I know the\ntruth of this mystery?\u201d\n\nThen Meneptah looked up, and there was doubt and trouble on his heavy\nface.\n\n\u201cI will tell thee readily, thou Wanderer, for perchance such a man as\nthou, who hast travelled in many lands and seen the faces of many Gods,\nmay understand the tale, and may help me. In the days of my father, the\nholy Rameses Miamun, the keepers of the Temple of the Divine Hathor\nawoke, and lo! in the Sanctuary of the temple was a woman in the garb\nof the Aquaiusha, who was Beauty\u2019s self. But when they looked upon her,\nnone could tell the semblance of her beauty, for to one she seemed dark\nand to the other fair, and to each man of them she showed a diverse\nloveliness. She smiled upon them, and sang most sweetly, and love\nentered their hearts, so that it seemed to each man that she only was\nhis Heart\u2019s Desire. But when any man would have come nearer and\nembraced her, there was that about her which drove him back, and if he\nstrove again, behold, he fell down dead. So at last they subdued their\nhearts, and desired her no more, but worshipped her as the Hathor come\nto earth, and made offerings of food and drink to her, and prayers. So\nthree years passed, and at the end of the third year the keepers of the\ntemple looked and the Hathor was gone. Nothing remained of her but a\nmemory. Yet there were some who said that this memory was dearer than\nall else that the world has to give.\n\n\u201cTwenty more seasons went by, and I sat upon the throne of my father,\nand was Lord of the Double Crown. And, on a day, a messenger came\nrunning and cried:\n\n\u201c\u2018Now is Hathor come back to Khem, now is Hathor come back to Khem,\nand, as of old, none may draw near her beauty!\u2019 Then I went to see, and\nlo! before the Temple of Hathor a great multitude was gathered, and\nthere on the pylon brow stood the Hathor\u2019s self shining with changeful\nbeauty like the Dawn. And as of old she sang sweet songs, and, to each\nman who heard, her voice was the voice of his own beloved, living and\nlost to him, or dead and lost. Now every man has such a grave in his\nheart as that whence Hathor seems to rise in changeful beauty. Month by\nmonth she sings thus, one day in every month, and many a man has sought\nto win her and her favour, but in the doorways are they who meet him\nand press him back; and if he still struggles on, there comes a clang\nof swords and he falls dead, but no wound is found on him. And,\nWanderer, this is truth, for I myself have striven and have been\npressed back by that which guards her. But I alone of men who have\nlooked on her and heard her, strove not a second time, and so saved\nmyself alive.\u201d\n\n\u201cThou alone of men lovest life more than the World\u2019s Desire!\u201d said the\nQueen. \u201cThou hast ever sickened for the love of this strange Witch, but\nthy life thou lovest even better than her beauty, and thou dost not\ndare attempt again the adventure of her embrace. Know, Eperitus, that\nthis sorrow is come upon the land, that all men love yonder witch and\nrave of her, and to each she wears a different face and sings in\nanother voice. When she stands upon the pylon tower, then thou wilt see\nthe madness with which she has smitten them. For they will weep and\npray and tear their hair. Then they will rush through the temple courts\nand up to the temple doors, and be thrust back again by that which\nguards her. But some will yet strive madly on, and thou wilt hear the\nclash of arms and they will fall dead before thee. Accursed is the\nland, I tell thee, Wanderer; because of that Phantom it is accursed.\nFor it is she who brings these woes on Khem; from her, not from our\nslaves and their mad conjurers, come plagues, I say, and all evil\nthings. And till a man be found who may pass her guard, and come face\nto face with the witch and slay her, plagues and woes and evil things\nshall be the daily bread of Khem. Perchance, Wanderer, thou art such a\nman,\u201d and she looked on him strangely. \u201cYet if so, this is my counsel,\nthat thou go not up against her, lest thou also be bewitched, and a\ngreat man be lost to us.\u201d\n\nNow the Wanderer turned the matter over in his heart and made answer:\n\n\u201cPerchance, Lady, my strength and the favour of the Gods might serve me\nin such a quest. But methinks that this woman is meeter for words of\nlove and the kisses of men than to be slain with the sharp sword, if,\nindeed, she be not of the number of the immortals.\u201d\n\nNow Meriamun flushed and frowned.\n\n\u201cIt is not fitting so to talk before me,\u201d she said. \u201cOf this be sure,\nthat if the Witch may be come at, she shall be slain and given to\nOsiris for a bride.\u201d\n\nNow the Wanderer saw that the Lady Meriamun was jealous of the beauty\nand renown and love of her who dwelt in the temple, and was called the\nStrange Hathor, and he held his peace, for he knew when to be silent.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\nTHE NIGHT OF DREAD\n\n\nThe feast dragged slowly on, for Fear was of the company. The men and\nwomen were silent, and when they drank, it was as if one had poured a\nlittle oil on a dying fire. Life flamed up in them for a moment, their\nlaughter came like the crackling of thorns, and then they were silent\nagain. Meanwhile the Wanderer drank little, waiting to see what should\ncome. But the Queen was watching him whom already her heart desired,\nand she only of all the company had pleasure in this banquet. Suddenly\na side-door opened behind the da\u00efs, there was a stir in the hall, each\nguest turning his head fearfully, for all expected some evil tidings.\nBut it was only the entrance of those who bear about in the feasts of\nEgypt an effigy of the Dead, the likeness of a mummy carved in wood,\nand who cry: \u201cDrink, O King, and be glad, thou shalt soon be even as\nhe! Drink, and be glad.\u201d The stiff, swathed figure, with its folded\nhands and gilded face, was brought before the Pharaoh, and Meneptah,\nwho had sat long in sullen brooding silence, started when he looked on\nit. Then he broke into an angry laugh.\n\n\u201cWe have little need of thee to-night,\u201d he cried, as he saluted the\nsymbol of Osiris. \u201cDeath is near enough, we want not thy silent\npreaching. Death, Death is near!\u201d\n\nHe fell back in his gilded chair, and let the cup drop from his hand,\ngnawing at his beard.\n\n\u201cArt thou a man?\u201d spoke Meriamun, in a low clear voice; \u201care you men,\nand yet afraid of what comes to all? Is it only to-night that we first\nhear the name of Death? Remember the great Men-kau-ra, remember the old\nPharaoh who built the Pyramid of Hir. He was just and kind, and he\nfeared the Gods, and for his reward they showed him Death, coming on\nhim in six short years. Did he scowl and tremble, like all of you\nto-night, who are scared by the threats of slaves? Nay, he outwitted\nthe Gods, he made night into day, he lived out twice his years, with\nrevel and love and wine in the lamp-lit groves of persea trees. Come,\nmy guests, let us be merry, if it be but for an hour. Drink, and be\nbrave!\u201d\n\n\u201cFor once thou speakest well,\u201d said the King. \u201cDrink and forget; the\nGods who give Death give wine,\u201d and his angry eyes ranged through the\nhall, to seek some occasion of mirth and scorn.\n\n\u201cThou Wanderer!\u201d he said, suddenly. \u201cThou drinkest not: I have watched\nthee as the cups go round; what, man, thou comest from the North, the\nsun of thy pale land has not heat enough to foster the vine. Thou\nseemest cold, and a drinker of water; why wilt thou be cold before\nthine hour? Come, pledge me in the red wine of Khem. Bring forth the\ncup of Pasht!\u201d he cried to them who waited, \u201cbring forth the cup of\nPasht, the King drinks!\u201d\n\nThen the chief butler of Pharaoh went to the treasure-house, and came\nagain, bearing a huge golden cup, fashioned in the form of a lion\u2019s\nhead, and holding twelve measures of wine. It was an ancient cup,\nsacred to Pasht, and a gift of the Rutennu to Thothmes, the greatest of\nthat name.\n\n\u201cFill it full of unmixed wine!\u201d cried the King. \u201cDost thou grow pale at\nthe sight of the cup, thou Wanderer from the North? I pledge thee,\npledge thou me!\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, King,\u201d said the Wanderer, \u201cI have tasted wine of Ismarus before\nto-day, and I have drunk with a wild host, the one-eyed Man Eater!\u201d For\nhis heart was angered by the King, and he forgot his wisdom, but the\nQueen marked the saying.\n\n\u201cThen pledge me in the cup of Pasht!\u201d quoth the King.\n\n\u201cI pray thee, pardon me,\u201d said the Wanderer, \u201cfor wine makes wise men\nfoolish and strong men weak, and to-night methinks we shall need our\nwits and our strength.\u201d\n\n\u201cCraven!\u201d cried the King, \u201cgive me the bowl. I drink to thy better\ncourage, Wanderer,\u201d and lifting the great golden cup, he stood up and\ndrank it, and then dropped staggering into his chair, his head fallen\non his breast.\n\n\u201cI may not refuse a King\u2019s challenge, though it is ill to contend with\nour hosts,\u201d said the Wanderer, turning somewhat pale, for he was in\nanger. \u201cGive me the bowl!\u201d\n\nHe took the cup, and held it high; then pouring a little forth to his\nGods, he said, in a clear voice, for he was stirred to anger beyond his\nwont:\n\n\u201c_I drink to the Strange Hathor!_\u201d\n\nHe spoke, and drained the mighty cup, and set it down on the board, and\neven as he laid down the cup, and as the Queen looked at him with eyes\nof wrath, there came from the bow beside his seat a faint shrill sound,\na ringing and a singing of the bow, a noise of running strings and a\nsound as of rushing arrows.\n\nThe warrior heard it, and his eyes burned with the light of battle, for\nhe knew well that the swift shafts should soon fly to the hearts of the\ndoomed. Pharaoh awoke and heard it, and heard it the Lady Meriamun the\nQueen, and she looked on the Wanderer astonished, and looked on the bow\nthat sang.\n\n\u201cThe minstrel\u2019s tale was true! This is none other but the Bow of\nOdysseus, the sacker of cities,\u201d said Meriamun. \u201cHearken thou,\nEperitus, thy great bow sings aloud. How comes it that thy bow sings?\u201d\n\n\u201cFor this cause, Queen,\u201d said the Wanderer; \u201cbecause birds gather on\nthe Bridge of War. Soon shall shafts be flying and ghosts go down to\ndoom. Summon thy Guards, I bid thee, for foes are near.\u201d\n\nTerror conquered the drunkenness of Pharaoh; he bade the Guards who\nstood behind his chair summon all their company. They went forth, and a\ngreat hush fell again upon the Hall of Banquets and upon those who sat\nat meat therein. The silence grew deadly still, like air before the\nthunder, and men\u2019s hearts sank within them, and turned to water in\ntheir breasts. Only Odysseus wondered and thought on the battle to be,\nthough whence the foe might come he knew not, and Meriamun sat erect in\nher ivory chair and looked down the glorious hall.\n\nDeeper grew the silence and deeper yet, and more and more the cloud of\nfear gathered in the hearts of men. Then suddenly through all the hall\nthere was a rush like the rush of mighty wings. The deep foundations of\nthe Palace rocked, and to the sight of men the roof above seemed to\nburst asunder, and lo! above them, against the distance of the sky,\nthere swept a shape of Fear, and the stars shone through its raiment.\n\nThen the roof closed in again, and for a moment\u2019s space once more there\nwas silence, whilst men looked with white faces, each on each, and even\nthe stout heart of the Wanderer stood still.\n\nThen suddenly all down the hall, from this place and from that, men\nrose up and with one great cry fell down dead, this one across the\nboard, and that one across the floor. The Wanderer grasped his bow and\ncounted. From among those who sat at meat twenty and one had fallen\ndead. Yet those who lived sat gazing emptily, for so stricken with fear\nwere they that scarce did each one know if it was he himself who lay\ndead or his brother who had sat by his side.\n\nBut Meriamun looked down the hall with cold eyes, for she feared\nneither Death nor Life, nor God nor man.\n\nAnd while she looked and while the Wanderer counted, there rose a faint\nmurmuring sound from the city without, a sound that grew and grew, the\nthunder of myriad feet that run before the death of kings. Then the\ndoors burst asunder and a woman sped through them in her night robes,\nand in her arms she bore the naked body of a boy.\n\n\u201cPharaoh!\u201d she cried, \u201cPharaoh, and thou, O Queen, look upon thy\nson\u2014thy firstborn son\u2014dead is thy son, O Pharaoh! Dead is thy son, O\nQueen! In my arms he died suddenly as I lulled him to his rest,\u201d and\nshe laid the body of the child down on the board among the vessels of\ngold, among the garlands of lotus flowers and the beakers of rose-red\nwine.\n\nThen Pharaoh rose and rent his purple robes and wept aloud. Meriamun\nrose too, and lifting the body of her son clasped it to her breast, and\nher eyes were terrible with wrath and grief, but she wept not.\n\n\u201cSee now the curse that this evil woman, this False Hathor, hath\nbrought upon us,\u201d she said.\n\nBut the very guests sprang up crying, \u201cIt is not the Hathor whom we\nworship, it is not the Holy Hathor, it is the Gods of those dark Apura\nwhom thou, O Queen, wilt not let go. On thy head and the head of\nPharaoh be it,\u201d and even as they cried the murmur without grew to a\nshriek of woe, a shriek so wild and terrible that the Palace walls\nrang. Again that shriek rose, and yet a third time, never was such a\ncry heard in Egypt. And now for the first time in all his days the face\nof the Wanderer grew white with fear, and in fear of heart he prayed\nfor succour to his Goddess\u2014to Aphrodite, the daughter of Dione.\n\nAgain the doors behind them burst open and the Guards flocked in\u2014mighty\nmen of many foreign lands; but now their faces were wan, their eyes\nstared wide, and their jaws hung down. But at the sound of the clanging\nof their harness the strength of the Wanderer came back to him again,\nfor the Gods and their vengeance he feared, but not the sword of man.\nAnd now once more the bow sang aloud. He grasped it, he bent it with\nhis mighty knee, and strung it, crying:\n\n\u201cAwake, Pharaoh, awake! Foes draw on. Say, be these all the men?\u201d\n\nThen the Captain answered, \u201cThese be all of the Guard who are left\nliving in the Palace. The rest are stark, smitten by the angry Gods.\u201d\n\nNow as the Captain spake, one came running up the hall, heeding neither\nthe dead nor the living. It was the old priest Rei, the Commander of\nthe Legion of Amen, who had been the Wanderer\u2019s guide, and his looks\nwere wild with fear.\n\n\u201cHearken, Pharaoh!\u201d he cried, \u201cthy people lie dead by thousands in the\nstreets\u2014the houses are full of dead. In the Temples of Ptah and Amen\nmany of the priests have fallen dead also.\u201d\n\n\u201cHast thou more to tell, old man?\u201d cried the Queen.\n\n\u201cThe tale has not all been told, O Queen. The soldiers are mad with\nfear and with the sight of death, and slay their captains; barely have\nI escaped from those in my command of the Legion of Amen. For they\nswear that this death has been brought upon the land because the\nPharaoh will not let the Apura go. Hither, then, they come to slay the\nPharaoh, and thee also, O Queen, and with them come many thousands of\npeople, catching up such arms as lie to their hands.\u201d\n\nNow Pharaoh sank down groaning, but the Queen spake to the Wanderer:\n\n\u201cAnon thy weapon sang of war, Eperitus; now war is at the gates.\u201d\n\n\u201cLittle I fear the rush of battle and the blows men deal in anger,\nLady,\u201d he made answer, \u201cthough a man may fear the Gods without shame.\nHo, Guards! close up, close up round me! Look not so pale-faced now\ndeath from the Gods is done with, and we have but to fear the sword of\nmen.\u201d\n\nSo great was his mien and so glorious his face as he cried thus, and\none by one drew his long arrows forth and laid them on the board, that\nthe trembling Guards took heart, and to the number of fifty and one\nranged themselves on the edge of the da\u00efs in a double line. Then they\nalso made ready their bows and loosened the arrows in their quivers.\n\nNow from without there came a roar of men, and anon, while those of the\nhouse of Pharaoh, and of the guests and nobles, who sat at the feast\nand yet lived, fled behind the soldiers, the brazen doors were burst in\nwith mighty blows, and through them a great armed multitude surged\nalong the hall. There came soldiers broken from their ranks. There came\nthe embalmers of the Dead; their hands were overfull of work to-night,\nbut they left their work undone; Death had smitten some even of these,\nand their fellows did not shrink back from them now. There came the\nsmith, black from the forge, and the scribe bowed with endless writing;\nand the dyer with his purple hands, and the fisher from the stream; and\nthe stunted weaver from the loom, and the leper from the Temple gates.\nThey were mad with lust of life, a starveling life that the King had\ntaxed, when he let not the Apura go. They were mad with fear of death;\ntheir women followed them with dead children in their arms. They smote\ndown the golden furnishings, they tore the silken hangings, they cast\nthe empty cups of the feast at the faces of trembling ladies, and cried\naloud for the blood of the King.\n\n\u201cWhere is Pharaoh?\u201d they yelled, \u201cshow us Pharaoh and the Queen\nMeriamun, that we may slay them. Dead are our first born, they lie in\nheaps as the fish lay when Sihor ran red with blood. Dead are they\nbecause of the curse that has been brought upon us by the prophets of\nthe Apura, whom Pharaoh, and Pharaoh\u2019s Queen, yet hold in Khem.\u201d\n\nNow as they cried they saw Pharaoh Meneptah cowering behind the double\nline of Guards, and they saw the Queen Meriamun who cowered not, but\nstood silent above the din. Then she thrust her way through the Guards,\nand yet holding the body of the child to her breast, she stood before\nthem with eyes that flashed more brightly than the uraeus crown upon\nher brow.\n\n\u201cBack!\u201d she cried, \u201cback! It is not Pharaoh, it is not I, who have\nbrought this death upon you. For we too have death here!\u201d and she held\nup the body of her dead son. \u201cIt is that False Hathor whom ye worship,\nthat Witch of many a voice and many a face who turns your hearts faint\nwith love. For her sake ye endure these woes, on her head is all this\ndeath. Go, tear her temple stone from stone, and rend her beauty limb\nfrom limb and be avenged and free the land from curses.\u201d\n\nA moment the people stood and hearkened, muttering as stands the lion\nthat is about to spring, while those who pressed without cried:\n\u201cForward! Forward! Slay them! Slay them!\u201d Then as with one voice they\nscreamed:\n\n\u201cThe Hathor we love, but you we hate, for ye have brought these woes\nupon us, and ye shall die.\u201d\n\nThey cried, they brawled, they cast footstools and stones at the\nGuards, and then a certain tall man among them drew a bow. Straight at\nthe Queen\u2019s fair breast he aimed his arrow, and swift and true it sped\ntowards her. She saw the light gleam upon its shining barb, and then\nshe did what no woman but Meriamun would have done, no, not to save\nherself from death\u2014she held out the naked body of her son as a warrior\nholds a shield. The arrow struck through and through it, piercing the\ntender flesh, aye, and pricked her breast beyond, so that she let the\ndead boy fall.\n\nThe Wanderer saw it and wondered at the horror of the deed, for he had\nseen no such deed in all his days. Then shouting aloud the terrible\nwar-cry of the Ach\u00e6ans he leapt upon the board before him, and as he\nleapt his golden armour clanged.\n\nGlancing around, he fixed an arrow to the string and drew to his ear\nthat great bow which none but he might so much as bend. Then as he\nloosed, the string sang like a swallow, and the shaft screamed through\nthe air. Down the glorious hall it sped, and full on the breast of him\nwho had lifted bow against the Queen the bitter arrow struck, nor might\nhis harness avail to stay it. Through the body of him it passed and\nwith blood-red feathers flew on, and smote another who stood behind him\nso that his knees also were loosened, and together they fell dead upon\nthe floor.\n\nNow while the people stared and wondered, again the bowstring sang like\na swallow, again the arrow screamed in its flight, and he who stood\nbefore it got his death, for the shield he bore was pinned to his\nbreast.\n\nThen wonder turned to rage; the multitude rolled forward, and from\neither side the air grew dark with arrows. For the Guards at the sight\nof the shooting of the Wanderer found heart and fought well and\nmanfully. Boldly also the slayers came on, and behind them pressed many\na hundred men. The Wanderer\u2019s golden helm flashed steadily, a beacon in\nthe storm. Black smoke burst out in the hall, the hangings flamed and\ntossed in a wind from the open door. The lights were struck from the\nhands of the golden images, arrows stood thick in the tables and the\nrafters, a spear pierced through the golden cup of Pasht. But out of\nthe darkness and smoke and dust, and the cry of battle, and through the\nrushing of the rain of spears, sang the swallow string of the black bow\nof Eurytus, and the long shafts shrieked as they sped on them who were\nripe to die. In vain did the arrows of the slayers smite upon that\ngolden harness. They were but as hail upon the temple roofs, but as\ndriving snow upon the wild stag\u2019s horns. They struck, they rattled, and\ndown they dropped like snow, or bounded back and lay upon the board.\n\nThe swallow string sang, the black bow twanged, and the bitter arrows\nshrieked as they flew.\n\nNow the Wanderer\u2019s shafts were spent, and he judged that their case was\ndesperate. For out of the doors of the hall that were behind them, and\nfrom the chambers of the women, armed men burst in also, taking them on\nthe flank and rear. But the Wanderer was old in war, and without a\nmatch in all its ways. The Captain of the Guard was slain with a spear\nstroke, and the Wanderer took his place, calling to the men, such of\nthem as were left alive, to form a circle on the da\u00efs, and within the\ncircle he set those of the house of Pharaoh and the women who were at\nthe feast. And to Pharaoh he cast a slain man\u2019s sword, bidding him\nstrike for life and throne if he never struck before; but the heart was\nout of Pharaoh because of the death of his son, and the wine about his\nwits, and the terrors he had seen. Then Meriamun the Queen snatched the\nsword from his trembling hand and stood holding it to guard her life.\nFor she disdained to crouch upon the ground as did the other women, but\nstood upright behind the Wanderer, and heeded not the spears and arrows\nthat dealt death on every hand. But Pharaoh stood, his face buried in\nhis hands.\n\nNow the slayers came on, shouting and clambering upon the da\u00efs. Then\nthe Wanderer rushed on them with sword drawn, and shield on high, and\nso swift he smote that men might not guard, for they saw, as it were,\nthree blades aloft at once, and the silver-hafted sword bit deep, the\ngift of Ph\u00e6acian Euryalus long ago. The Guards also smote and thrust;\nit was for their lives they fought, and back rolled the tide of foes,\nleaving a swathe of dead. So a second time they came on, and a second\ntime were rolled back.\n\nNow of the defenders few were left unhurt, and their strength was\nwell-nigh spent. But the Wanderer cheered them with great words, though\nhis heart grew fearful for the end; and Meriamun the Queen also bade\nthem to be of good courage, and if need were, to die like men. Then\nonce again the wave of War rolled in upon them, and the strife grew\nfierce and desperate. The iron hedge of spears was well-nigh broken,\nand now the Wanderer, doing such deeds as had not been known in Khem,\nstood alone between Meriamun the Queen and the swords that thirsted for\nher life and the life of Pharaoh. Then of a sudden, from far down the\ngreat hall of banquets, there came a loud cry that shrilled above the\nclash of swords, the groans of men, and all the din of battle.\n\n\u201c_Pharaoh! Pharaoh! Pharaoh!_\u201d rose a voice. \u201cNow wilt thou let the\npeople go?\u201d\n\nThen he who smote stayed his hand and he who guarded dropped his\nshield. The battle ceased and all turned to look. There at the end of\nthe hall, among the dead and dying, there stood the two ancient men of\nthe Apura, and in their hands were cedar rods.\n\n\u201cIt is the Wizards\u2014the Wizards of the Apura,\u201d men cried, and shrunk\nthis way and that, thinking no more on war.\n\nThe ancient men drew nigh. They took no heed of the dying or the dead:\non they walked, through blood and wine and fallen tables and scattered\narms, till they stood before the Pharaoh.\n\n\u201c_Pharaoh! Pharaoh! Pharaoh!_\u201d they cried again. \u201cDead are the\nfirst-born of Khem at the hand of Jahveh. Wilt thou let the people go?\u201d\n\nThen Pharaoh lifted his face and cried:\n\n\u201cGet you gone\u2014you and all that is yours. Get you gone swiftly, and let\nKhem see your face no more.\u201d\n\nThe people heard, and the living left the hall, and silence fell on the\ncity, and on the dead who died of the sword, and the dead who died of\nthe pestilence. Silence fell, and sleep, and the Gods\u2019 best\ngift\u2014forgetfulness.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\nTHE BATHS OF BRONZE\n\n\nEven out of this night of dread the morning rose, and with it came Rei,\nbearing a message from the King. But he did not find the Wanderer in\nhis chamber. The Palace eunuchs said that he had risen and had asked\nfor Kurri, the Captain of the Sidonians, who was now the Queen\u2019s\nJeweller. Thither Rei went, for Kurri was lodged with the servants in a\ncourt of the Royal House, and as the old man came he heard the sound of\nhammers beating on metal. There, in the shadow which the Palace wall\ncast into a little court, there was the Wanderer; no longer in his\ngolden mail, but with bare arms, and dressed in such a light smock as\nthe workmen of Khem were wont to wear.\n\nThe Wanderer was bending over a small brazier, whence a flame and a\nlight blue smoke arose and melted into the morning light. In his hand\nhe held a small hammer, and he had a little anvil by him, on which lay\none of the golden shoulder-plates of his armour. The other pieces were\nheaped beside the brazier. Kurri, the Sidonian, stood beside him, with\ngraving tools in his hands.\n\n\u201cHail to thee, Eperitus,\u201d cried Rei, calling him by the name he had\nchosen to give himself. \u201cWhat makest thou here with fire and anvil?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am but furbishing up my armour,\u201d said the Wanderer, smiling. \u201cIt has\nmore than one dint from the fight in the hall;\u201d and he pointed to his\nshield, which was deeply scarred across the blazon of the White Bull,\nthe cognizance of dead Paris, Priam\u2019s son. \u201cSidonian, blow up the\nfire.\u201d\n\nKurri crouched on his hams and blew the blaze to a white heat with a\npair of leathern bellows, while the Wanderer fitted the plates and\nhammered at them on the anvil, making the jointures smooth and strong,\ntalking meanwhile with Rei.\n\n\u201cStrange work for a prince, as thou must be in Alybas, whence thou\ncomest,\u201d quoth Rei, leaning on his long rod of cedar, headed with an\napple of bluestone. \u201cIn our country chiefs do not labour with their\nhands.\u201d\n\n\u201cDifferent lands, different ways,\u201d answered Eperitus. \u201cIn my country\nmen wed not their sisters as your kings do, though, indeed, it comes\ninto my mind that once I met such brides in my wanderings in the isle\nof the King of the Winds.\u201d\n\nFor the thought of the \u00c6olian isle, where King \u00c6olus gave him all the\nwinds in a bag, came into his memory.\n\n\u201cMy hands can serve me in every need,\u201d he went on. \u201cMowing the deep\ngreen grass in spring, or driving oxen, or cutting a clean furrow with\nthe plough in heavy soil, or building houses and ships, or doing\nsmith\u2019s work with gold and bronze and grey iron\u2014they are all one to\nme.\u201d\n\n\u201cOr the work of war,\u201d said Rei. \u201cFor there I have seen thee labour.\nNow, listen, thou Wanderer, the King Meneptah and the Queen Meriamun\nsend me to thee with this scroll of their will,\u201d and he drew forth a\nroll of papyrus, bound with golden threads, and held it on his\nforehead, bowing, as if he prayed.\n\n\u201cWhat is that roll of thine?\u201d said the Wanderer, who was hammering at\nthe bronze spear-point, that stood fast in his helm.\n\nRei undid the golden threads and opened the scroll, which he gave into\nthe Wanderer\u2019s hand.\n\n\u201cGods! What have we here?\u201d said the Wanderer. \u201cHere are pictures, tiny\nand cunningly drawn, serpents in red, and little figures of men sitting\nor standing, axes and snakes and birds and beetles! My father, what\ntokens are these?\u201d and he gave the scroll back to Rei.\n\n\u201cThe King has made his Chief Scribe write to thee, naming thee Captain\nof the Legion of Pasht, the Guard of the Royal House, for last night\nthe Captain was slain. He gives thee a high title, and he promises thee\nhouses, lands, and a city of the South to furnish thee with wine, and a\ncity of the North to furnish thee with corn, if thou wilt be his\nservant.\u201d\n\n\u201cNever have I served any man,\u201d said the Wanderer, flushing red, \u201cthough\nI went near to being sold and to knowing the day of slavery. The King\ndoes me too much honour.\u201d\n\n\u201cThou wouldest fain begone from Khem?\u201d asked the old man, eagerly.\n\n\u201cI would fain find her I came to seek, wherever she may be,\u201d said the\nWanderer. \u201cHere or otherwhere.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen, what answer shall I carry to the King?\u201d\n\n\u201cTime brings thought,\u201d said the Wanderer; \u201cI would see the city if thou\nwilt guide me. Many cities have I seen, but none so great as this. As\nwe walk I will consider my answer to your King.\u201d\n\nHe had been working at his helm as he spoke, for the rest of his armour\nwas now mended. He had drawn out the sharp spear-head of bronze, and\nwas balancing it in his hand and trying its edge.\n\n\u201cA good blade,\u201d he said; \u201cbetter was never hammered. It went near to\ndoing its work, Sidonian,\u201d and he turned to Kurri as he spoke. \u201cTwo\nthings of thine I had: thy life and thy spear-point. Thy life I gave\nthee, thy spear-point thou didst lend me. Here, take it again,\u201d and he\ntossed the spear-head to the Queen\u2019s Jeweller.\n\n\u201cI thank thee, lord,\u201d answered the Sidonian, thrusting it in his\ngirdle; but he muttered between his teeth, \u201cThe gifts of enemies are\ngifts of evil.\u201d\n\nThe Wanderer did on his mail, set the helmet on his head, and spoke to\nRei. \u201cCome forth, friend, and show me thy city.\u201d\n\nBut Rei was watching the smile on the face of the Sidonian, and he\ndeemed it cruel and crafty and warlike, like the laugh of the Sardana\nof the sea. He said nought, but called a guard of soldiers, and with\nthe Wanderer he passed the Palace gates and went out into the city.\n\nThe sight was strange, and it was not thus that the old man, who loved\nhis land, would have had the Wanderer see it.\n\nFrom all the wealthy houses, and from many of the poorer sort, rang the\nwail of the women mourners as they sang their dirges for the dead.\n\nBut in the meaner quarters many a hovel was marked with three smears of\nblood, dashed on each pillar of the door and on the lintel; and the\nsound that came from these dwellings was the cry of mirth and festival.\nThere were two peoples; one laughed, one lamented. And in and out of\nthe houses marked with the splashes of blood women were ever going with\nempty hands, or coming with hands full of jewels, of gold, of silver\nrings, of cups, and purple stuffs. Empty they went out, laden they came\nin, dark men and women with keen black eyes and the features of birds\nof prey. They went, they came, they clamoured with delight among the\nmourning of the men and women of Khem, and none laid a hand on them,\nnone refused them.\n\nOne tall fellow snatched at the staff of Rei.\n\n\u201cLend me thy staff, old man,\u201d he said, sneering; \u201clend me thy jewelled\nstaff for my journey. I do but borrow it; when Yak\u00fbb comes from the\ndesert thou shalt have it again.\u201d\n\nBut the Wanderer turned on the fellow with such a glance that he fell\nback.\n\n\u201cI have seen _thee_ before,\u201d he said, and he laughed over his shoulder\nas he went; \u201cI saw thee last night at the feast, and heard thy great\nbow sing. Thou art not of the folk of Khem. They are a gentle folk, and\nYak\u00fbb wins favour in their sight.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat passes now in this haunted land of thine, old man?\u201d said the\nWanderer, \u201cfor of all the sights that I have seen, this is the\nstrangest. None lifts a hand to save his goods from the thief.\u201d\n\nRei the Priest groaned aloud.\n\n\u201cEvil days have come upon Khem,\u201d he said. \u201cThe Apura spoil the people\nof Khem ere they fly into the Wilderness.\u201d\n\nEven as he spoke there came a great lady weeping, for her husband was\ndead, and her son and her brother, all were gone in the breath of the\npestilence. She was of the Royal House, and richly decked with gold and\njewels, and the slaves who fanned her, as she went to the Temple of\nPtah to worship, wore gold chains upon their necks. Two women of the\nApura saw her and ran to her, crying:\n\n\u201cLend to us those golden ornaments thou wearest.\u201d\n\nThen, without a word, she took her gold bracelets and chains and rings,\nand let them all fall in a heap at her feet. The women of the Apura\ntook them all and mocked her, crying:\n\n\u201cWhere now is thy husband and thy son and thy brother, thou who art of\nPharaoh\u2019s house? Now thou payest us for the labour of our hands and for\nthe bricks that we made without straw, gathering leaves and rushes in\nthe sun. Now thou payest for the stick in the hand of the overseers.\nWhere now is thy husband and thy son and thy brother?\u201d and they went\nstill mocking, and left the lady weeping.\n\nBut of all sights the Wanderer held this strangest, and many such there\nwere to see. At first he would have taken back the spoil and given it\nto those who wore it, but Rei the Priest prayed him to forbear, lest\nthe curse should strike them also. So they pressed on through the\ntumult, ever seeing new sights of greed and death and sorrow. Here a\nmother wept over her babe, here a bride over her husband\u2014that night the\ngroom of her and of death. Here the fierce-faced Apura, clamouring like\ngulls, tore the silver trinkets from the children of those of the baser\nsort, or the sacred amulets from the mummies of those who were laid out\nfor burial, and here a water-carrier wailed over the carcass of the ass\nthat won him his livelihood.\n\nAt length, passing through the crowd, they came to a temple that stood\nnear to the Temple of the God Ptah. The pylons of this temple faced\ntowards the houses of the city, but the inner courts were built against\nthe walls of Tanis and looked out across the face of the water. Though\nnot one of the largest temples, it was very strong and beautiful in its\nshape. It was built of the black stone of Syene, and all the polished\nface of the stone was graven with images of the Holy Hathor. Here she\nwore a cow\u2019s head, and here the face of a woman, but she always bore in\nher hands the lotus-headed staff and the holy token of life, and her\nneck was encircled with the collar of the gods.\n\n\u201cHere dwells that Strange Hathor to whom thou didst drink last night,\nEperitus,\u201d said Rei the Priest. \u201cIt was a wild pledge to drink before\nthe Queen, who swears that she brings these woes on Khem. Though,\nindeed, she is guiltless of this, with all the blood on her beautiful\nhead. The Apura and their apostate sorcerer, whom we ourselves\ninstructed, bring the plagues on us.\u201d\n\n\u201cDoes the Hathor manifest herself this day?\u201d asked the Wanderer.\n\n\u201cThat we will ask of the priests, Eperitus. Follow thou me.\u201d\n\nNow they passed down the avenue of sphinxes within the wall of brick,\ninto the garden plot of the Goddess, and so on through the gates of the\nouter tower. A priest who watched there threw them wide at the sign\nthat was given of Rei, the Master-Builder, the beloved of Pharaoh, and\nthey came to the outer court. Before the second tower they halted, and\nRei showed to the Wanderer that place upon the pylon roof where the\nHathor was wont to stand and sing till the hearers\u2019 hearts were melted\nlike wax. Here they knocked once more, and were admitted to the Hall of\nAssembly where the priests were gathered, throwing dust upon their\nheads and mourning those among them who had died with the Firstborn.\nWhen they saw Rei, the instructed, the Prophet of Amen, and the\nWanderer clad in golden armour who was with him, they ceased from their\nmourning, and an ancient priest of their number came forward, and,\ngreeting Rei, asked him of his errand. Then Rei took the Wanderer by\nthe hand and made him known to the priest, and told him of those deeds\nthat he had done, and how he had saved the life of Pharaoh and of those\nof the Royal House who sat at the feast with Pharaoh.\n\n\u201cBut when will the Lady Hathor sing upon her tower top?\u201d said Rei, \u201cfor\nthe Stranger desires to see her and hear her.\u201d\n\nThe temple priest bowed before the Wanderer, and answered gravely:\n\n\u201cOn the third morn from now the Holy Hathor shows herself upon the\ntemple\u2019s top,\u201d he said; \u201cbut thou, mighty lord, who art risen from the\nsea, hearken to my warning, and if, indeed, thou art no god, dare not\nto look upon her beauty. If thou dost look, then thy fate shall be as\nthe fate of those who have looked before, and have loved and have died\nfor the sake of the Hathor.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo god am I,\u201d said the Wanderer, laughing, \u201cyet, perchance, I shall\ndare to look, and dare to face whatever it be that guards her, if my\nheart bids me see her nearer.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen there shall be an end of thee and thy wanderings,\u201d said the\npriest. \u201cNow follow me, and I will show thee those men who last sought\nto win the Hathor.\u201d\n\nHe took him by the hand and led him through passages hewn in the walls\ntill they came to a deep and gloomy cell, where the golden armour of\nthe Wanderer shone like a lamp at eve. The cell was built against the\ncity wall, and scarcely a thread of light came into the chink between\nroof and wall. All about the chamber were baths fashioned of bronze,\nand in the baths lay dusky shapes of dark-skinned men of Egypt. There\nthey lay, and in the faint light their limbs were being anointed by\nsome sad-faced attendants, as folk were anointed by merry girls in the\nshining baths of the Wanderer\u2019s home. When Rei and Eperitus came near,\nthe sad-faced bath-men shrank away in shame, as dogs shrink from their\nevil meat at night when a traveller goes past.\n\nMarvelling at the strange sight, the bathers and the bathed, the\nWanderer looked more closely, and his stout heart sank within him. For\nall these were dead who lay in the baths of bronze, and it was not\nwater that flowed about their limbs, but evil-smelling natron.\n\n\u201cHere lie those,\u201d said the priest, \u201cwho last strove to come near the\nHoly Hathor, and to pass into the shrine of the temple where night and\nday she sits and sings and weaves with her golden shuttle. Here they\nlie, the half of a score. One by one they rushed to embrace her, and\none by one they were smitten down. Here they are being attired for the\ntomb, for we give them all rich burial.\u201d\n\n\u201cTruly,\u201d quoth the Wanderer, \u201cI left the world of Light behind me when\nI looked on the blood-red sea and sailed into the black gloom off\nPharos. More evil sights have I seen in this haunted land than in all\nthe cities where I have wandered, and on all the seas that I have\nsailed.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen be warned,\u201d said the priest, \u201cfor if thou dost follow where they\nwent, and desire what they desired, thou too shalt lie in yonder bath,\nand be washed of yonder waters. For whatever be false, this is true,\nthat he who seeks love ofttimes finds doom. But here he finds it most\nspeedily.\u201d\n\nThe Wanderer looked again at the dead and at their ministers, and he\nshuddered till his harness rattled. He feared not the face of Death in\nwar, or on the sea, but this was a new thing. Little he loved the sight\nof the brazen baths and those who lay there. The light of the sun and\nthe breath of air seemed good to him, and he stepped quickly from the\nchamber, while the priest smiled to himself. But when he reached the\nouter air, his heart came back to him, and he began to ask again about\nthe Hathor\u2014where she dwelt, and what it was that slew her lovers.\n\n\u201cI will show thee,\u201d answered the priest, and brought him through the\nHall of Assembly to a certain narrow way that led to a court. In the\ncentre of the court stood the holy shrine of the Hathor. It was a great\nchamber, built of alabaster, lighted from the roof alone, and shut in\nwith brazen doors, before which hung curtains of Tyrian web. From the\nroof of the shrine a stairway ran overhead to the roof of the temple\nand so to the inner pylon tower.\n\n\u201cYonder, Stranger, the holy Goddess dwells within the Alabaster\nShrine,\u201d said the priest. \u201cBy that stair she passes to the temple roof,\nand thence to the pylon top. There by the curtains, once in every day,\nwe place food, and it is drawn into the sanctuary, how we know not, for\nnone of us have set foot there, nor seen the Hathor face to face. Now,\nwhen the Goddess has stood upon the pylon and sung to the multitude\nbelow, she passes back to the shrine. Then the brazen outer doors of\nthe temple court are thrown wide and the doomed rush on madly, one by\none, towards the drawn curtains. But before they pass the curtains they\nare thrust back, yet they strive to pass. Then we hear a sound of the\nclashing of weapons and the men fall dead without a word, while the\nsong of the Hathor swells from within.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd who are her swordsmen?\u201d said the Wanderer.\n\n\u201cThat we know not, Stranger; no man has lived to tell. Come, draw near\nto the door of the shrine and hearken, maybe thou wilt hear the Hathor\nsinging. Have no fear; thou needst not approach the guarded space.\u201d\n\nThen the Wanderer drew near with a doubting heart, but Rei the Priest\nstood afar off, though the temple priests came close enough. At the\ncurtains they stopped and listened. Then from within the shrine there\ncame a sound of singing wild and sweet and shrill, and the voice of it\nstirred the Wanderer strangely, bringing to his mind memories of that\nIthaca of which he was Lord and which he should see no more; of the\nhappy days of youth, and of the God-built walls of windy Ilios. But he\ncould not have told why he thought on these things, nor why his heart\nwas thus strangely stirred within him.\n\n\u201cHearken! the Hathor sings as she weaves the doom of men,\u201d said the\npriest, and as he spoke the singing ended.\n\nThen the Wanderer took counsel with himself whether he should then and\nthere burst the doors and take his fortune, or whether he should\nforbear for that while. But in the end he determined to forbear and see\nwith his own eyes what befell those who strove to win the way.\n\nSo he drew back, wondering much; and, bidding farewell to the aged\npriest, he went with Rei, the Master Builder, through the town of\nTanis, where the Apura were still spoiling the people of Khem, and he\ncame to the Palace where he was lodged. Here he turned over in his mind\nhow he might see the strange woman of the temple, and yet escape the\nbaths of bronze. There he sat and thought till at length the night drew\non, and one came to summon him to sup with Pharaoh in the Hall. Then he\nrose up and went, and meeting Pharaoh and Meriamun the Queen in the\nouter chamber, passed in after them to the Hall, and on to the da\u00efs\nwhich he had held against the rabble, for the place was clear of dead,\nand, save for certain stains upon the marble floor that might not be\nwashed away, and for some few arrows that yet were fixed high up in the\nwalls or in the lofty roof, there was nothing to tell of the great fray\nthat had been fought but one day gone.\n\nHeavy was the face of Pharaoh, and the few who sat with him were sad\nenough because of the death of so many whom they loved, and the shame\nand sorrow that had fallen upon Khem. But there were no tears for her\none child in the eyes of Meriamun the Queen. Anger, not grief, tore her\nheart because Pharaoh had let the Apura go. For ever as they sat at the\nsad feast there came a sound of the tramping feet of armies, and of\nlowing cattle, and songs of triumph, sung by ten thousand voices, and\nthus they sang the song of the Apura:\u2014\n\nA lamp for our feet the Lord hath litten,\n    Signs hath He shown in the Land of Khem.\nThe Kings of the Nations our Lord hath smitten,\n    His shoe hath He cast o\u2019er the Gods of them.\nHe hath made Him a mock of the heifer of Isis,\n    He hath broken the chariot reins of Ra,\nOn Yak\u00fbb He cries, and His folk arises,\n    And the knees of the Nation are loosed in awe.\n\nHe gives us their goods for a spoil to gather,\n    Jewels of silver, and vessels of gold;\nFor Yahveh of old is our Friend and Father,\n    And cherisheth Yak\u00fbb He chose of old.\nThe Gods of the Peoples our Lord hath chidden,\n    Their courts hath He filled with His creeping things;\nThe light of the face of the Sun he hath hidden,\n    And broken the scourge in the hands of kings.\n\nHe hath chastened His people with stripes and scourges,\n    Our backs hath He burdened with grievous weights,\nBut His children shall rise as a sea that surges,\n    And flood the fields of the men He hates.\nThe Kings of the Nations our Lord hath smitten,\n    His shoe hath He cast o\u2019er the Gods of them,\nBut a lamp for our feet the Lord hath litten,\n    Wonders hath he wrought in the Land of Khem.\n\n\nThus they sang, and the singing was so wild that the Wanderer craved\nleave to go and stand at the Palace gate, lest the Apura should rush in\nand spoil the treasure-chamber.\n\nThe King nodded, but Meriamun rose, and went with the Wanderer as he\ntook his bow and passed to the great gates.\n\nThere they stood in the shadow of the gates, and this is what they\nbeheld. A great light of many torches was flaring along the roadway in\nfront. Then came a body of men, rudely armed with pikes, and the\ntorchlight shone on the glitter of bronze and on the gold helms of\nwhich they had spoiled the soldiers of Khem. Next came a troop of wild\nwomen, dancing, and beating timbrels, and singing the triumphant hymn\nof scorn.\n\nNext, with a space between, tramped eight strong black-bearded men,\nbearing on their shoulders a great gilded coffin, covered with carven\nand painted signs.\n\n\u201cIt is the body of their Prophet, who brought them hither out of their\nland of hunger,\u201d whispered Meriamun. \u201cSlaves, ye shall hunger yet in\nthe wilderness, and clamour for the flesh-pots of Khem!\u201d\n\nThen she cried in a loud voice, for her passion overcame her, and she\nprophesied to those who bare the coffin, \u201cNot one soul of you that\nlives shall see the land where your conjurer is leading you! Ye shall\nthirst, ye shall hunger, ye shall call on the Gods of Khem, and they\nshall not hear you; ye shall die, and your bones shall whiten the\nwilderness. Farewell! Set go with you. Farewell!\u201d\n\nSo she cried and pointed down the way, and so fierce was her gaze, and\nso awful were her words, that the people of the Apura trembled and the\nwomen ceased to sing.\n\nThe Wanderer watched the Queen and marvelled. \u201cNever had woman such a\nhardy heart,\u201d he mused; \u201cand it were ill to cross her in love or war!\u201d\n\n\u201cThey will sing no more at my gates,\u201d murmured Meriamun, with a smile.\n\u201cCome, Wanderer; they await us,\u201d and she gave him her hand that he\nmight lead her.\n\nSo they went back to the banquet hall.\n\nThey hearkened as they sat till far in the night, and still the Apura\npassed, countless as the sands of the sea. At length all were gone, and\nthe sound of their feet died away in the distance. Then Meriamun the\nQueen turned to Pharaoh and spake bitterly:\n\n\u201cThou art a coward, Meneptah, ay, a coward and a slave at heart. In thy\nfear of the curse that the False Hathor hath laid on us, she whom thou\ndost worship, to thy shame, thou hast let these slaves go. Otherwise\nhad our father dealt with them, great Rameses Miamun, the hammer of the\nKhita. Now they are gone hissing curses on the land that bare them, and\nrobbing those who nursed them up while they were yet a little people,\nas a mother nurses her child.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat then might I do?\u201d said Pharaoh.\n\n\u201cThere is nought to do: all is done,\u201d answered Meriamun.\n\n\u201cWhat is thy counsel, Wanderer?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is ill for a stranger to offer counsel,\u201d said the Wanderer.\n\n\u201cNay, speak,\u201d cried the Queen.\n\n\u201cI know not the Gods of this land,\u201d he answered. \u201cIf these people be\nfavoured of the Gods, I say sit still. But if not,\u201d then said the\nWanderer, wise in war, \u201clet Pharaoh gather his host, follow after the\npeople, take them unawares, and smite them utterly. It is no hard task,\nthey are so mixed a multitude and cumbered with much baggage!\u201d\n\nThis was to speak as the Queen loved to hear. Now she clapped her hands\nand cried:\n\n\u201cListen, listen to good counsel, Pharaoh.\u201d\n\nAnd now that the Apura were gone, his fear of them went also, and as he\ndrank wine Pharaoh grew bold, till at last he sprang to his feet and\nswore by Amen, by Osiris, by Ptah, and by his father\u2014great Rameses\u2014that\nhe would follow after the Apura and smite them. And instantly he sent\nforth messengers to summon the captains of his host in the Hall of\nAssembly.\n\nThither the captains came, and their plans were made and messengers\nhurried forth to the governors of other great cities, bidding them send\ntroops to join the host of Pharaoh on its march.\n\nNow Pharaoh turned to the Wanderer and said:\n\n\u201cThou hast not yet answered my message that Rei carried to thee this\nmorning. Wilt thou take service with me and be a captain in this war?\u201d\n\nThe Wanderer little liked the name of service, but his warlike heart\nwas stirred within him, for he loved the delight of battle. But before\nhe could answer yea or nay, Meriamun the Queen, who was not minded that\nhe should leave her, spoke hastily:\n\n\u201cThis is my counsel, Meneptah, that the Lord Eperitus should abide here\nin Tanis and be the Captain of my Guard while thou art gone to smite\nthe Apura. For I may not be here unguarded in these troublous times,\nand if I know he watches over me, he who is so mighty a man, then I\nshall walk safely and sleep in peace.\u201d\n\nNow the Wanderer bethought him of his desire to look upon the Hathor,\nfor to see new things and try new adventures was always his delight. So\nhe answered that if it were pleasing to Pharaoh and the Queen he would\nwillingly stay and command the Guard. And Pharaoh said that it should\nbe so.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\nTHE QUEEN\u2019S CHAMBER\n\n\nAt midday on the morrow Pharaoh and the host of Pharaoh marched in pomp\nfrom Tanis, taking the road that runs across the desert country towards\nthe Red Sea of Weeds, the way that the Apura had gone. The Wanderer\nwent with the army for an hour\u2019s journey and more, in a chariot driven\nby Rei the Priest, for Rei did not march with the host. The number of\nthe soldiers of Pharaoh amazed the Ach\u00e6an, accustomed to the levies of\nbarren isles and scattered tribes. But he said nothing of his wonder to\nRei or any man, lest it should be thought that he came from among a\nlittle people. He even made as if he held the army lightly, and asked\nthe priest if this was all the strength of Pharaoh! Then Rei told him\nthat it was but a fourth part, for none of the mercenaries and none of\nthe soldiers from the Upper Land marched with the King in pursuit of\nthe Apura.\n\nThen the Wanderer knew that he was come among a greater people than he\nhad ever encountered yet, on land or sea. So he went with them till the\nroads divided, and there he drove his chariot to the chariot of Pharaoh\nand bade him farewell. Pharaoh called to him to mount his own chariot,\nand spake thus to him:\n\n\u201cSwear to me, thou Wanderer, who namest thyself Eperitus, though of\nwhat country thou art and what was thy father\u2019s house none know, swear\nto me that thou wilt guard Meriamun the Queen faithfully, and wilt work\nno woe upon me nor open my house while I am afar. Great thou art and\nbeautiful to look on, ay, and strong enough beyond the strength of men,\nyet my heart misdoubts me of thee. For methinks thou art a crafty man,\nand that evil will come upon me through thee.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf this be thy mind, Pharaoh,\u201d said the Wanderer, \u201cleave me not in\nguard of the Queen. And yet methinks I did not befriend thee so ill two\nnights gone, when the rabble would have put thee and all thy house to\nthe sword because of the death of the firstborn.\u201d\n\nNow Pharaoh looked on him long and doubtfully, then stretched out his\nhand. The Wanderer took it, and swore by his own Gods, by Zeus, by\nAphrodite, and Athene, and Apollo, that he would be true to the trust.\n\n\u201cI believe thee, Wanderer,\u201d said Pharaoh. \u201cKnow this, if thou keepest\nthine oath thou shalt have great rewards, and thou shalt be second to\nnone in the land of Khem, but if thou failest, then thou shalt die\nmiserably.\u201d\n\n\u201cI ask no fee,\u201d answered the Wanderer, \u201cand I fear no death, for in one\nway only shall I die, and that is known to me. Yet I will keep my\noath.\u201d And he bowed before Pharaoh, and leaping from his chariot\nentered again into the chariot of Rei.\n\nNow, as he drove back through the host the soldiers called to him,\nsaying:\n\n\u201cLeave us not, Wanderer.\u201d For he looked so glorious in his golden\narmour that it seemed to them as though a god departed from their\nranks.\n\nHis heart was with them, for he loved war, and he did not love the\nApura. But he drove on, as so it must be, and came to the Palace at\nsundown.\n\nThat night he sat at the feast by the side of Meriamun the Queen. And\nwhen the feast was done she bade him follow her into her chamber where\nshe sat when she would be alone. It was a fragrant chamber, dimly\nlighted with sweet-scented lamps, furnished with couches of ivory and\ngold, while all the walls told painted stories of strange gods and\nkings, and of their loves and wars. The Queen sank back upon the\nembroidered cushions of a couch and bade the wise Odysseus to sit guard\nover against her, so near that her robes swept his golden greaves. This\nhe did somewhat against his will, though he was no hater of fair women.\nBut his heart misdoubted the dark-eyed Queen, and he looked upon her\nguardedly, for she was strangely fair to see, the fairest of all mortal\nwomen whom he had known, save the Golden Helen.\n\n\u201cWanderer, we owe thee great thanks, and I would gladly know to whom we\nare in debt for the prices of our lives,\u201d she said. \u201cTell me of thy\nbirth, of thy father\u2019s house, and of the lands that thou hast seen and\nthe wars wherein thou hast fought. Tell me also of the sack of Ilios,\nand how thou camest by thy golden mail. The unhappy Paris wore such\narms as these, if the minstrel of the North sang truth.\u201d\n\nNow, the Wanderer would gladly have cursed this minstrel of the North\nand his songs.\n\n\u201cMinstrels will be lying, Lady,\u201d he said, \u201cand they gather old tales\nwherever they go. Paris may have worn my arms, or another man. I bought\nthem from a chapman in Crete, and asked nothing of their first master.\nAs for Ilios, I fought there in my youth, and served the Cretan\nIdomeneus, but I got little booty. To the King the wealth and women, to\nus the sword-strokes. Such is the appearance of war.\u201d\n\nMeriamun listened to his tale, which he set forth roughly, as if he\nwere some blunt, grumbling swordsman, and darkly she looked on him\nwhile she hearkened, and darkly she smiled as she looked.\n\n\u201cA strange story, Eperitus, a strange story truly. Now tell me thus.\nHow camest thou by yonder great bow, the bow of the swallow string? If\nmy minstrel spoke truly, it was once the Bow of Eurytus of OEchalia.\u201d\n\nNow the Wanderer glanced round him like a man taken in ambush, who sees\non every hand the sword of foes shine up into the sunlight.\n\n\u201cThe bow, Lady?\u201d he answered readily enough. \u201cI got it strangely. I was\ncruising with a cargo of iron on the western coast and landed on an\nisle, methinks the pilot called it Ithaca. There we found nothing but\ndeath; a pestilence had been in the land, but in a ruined hall this bow\nwas lying, and I made prize of it. A good bow!\u201d\n\n\u201cA strange story, truly\u2014a very strange story,\u201d quoth Meriamun the\nQueen. \u201cBy chance thou didst buy the armour of Paris, by chance thou\ndidst find the bow of Eurytus, that bow, methinks, with which the\ngod-like Odysseus slew the wooers in his halls. Knowest thou, Eperitus,\nthat when thou stoodest yonder on the board in the Place of Banquets,\nwhen the great bow twanged and the long shafts hailed down on the hall\nand loosened the knees of many, not a little was I put in mind of the\nsong of the slaying of the wooers at the hands of Odysseus. The fame of\nOdysseus has wandered far\u2014ay, even to Khem.\u201d And she looked straight at\nhim.\n\nThe Wanderer darkened his face and put the matter by. He had heard\nsomething of that tale, he said, but deemed it a minstrel\u2019s feigning.\nOne man could not fight a hundred, as the story went.\n\nThe Queen half rose from the couch where she lay curled up like a\nglittering snake. Like a snake she rose and watched him with her\nmelancholy eyes.\n\n\u201cStrange, indeed\u2014most strange that Odysseus, Laertes\u2019 son, Odysseus of\nIthaca, should not know the tale of the slaying of the wooers by\nOdysseus\u2019 self. Strange, indeed, thou Eperitus, who art Odysseus.\u201d\n\nNow the neck of the Wanderer was in the noose, and well he knew it: yet\nhe kept his counsel, and looked upon her vacantly.\n\n\u201cMen say that this Odysseus wandered years ago into the North, and that\nthis time he will not come again. I saw him in the wars, and he was a\ntaller man than I,\u201d said the Wanderer.\n\n\u201cI have always heard,\u201d said the Queen, \u201cthat Odysseus was\ndouble-tongued and crafty as a fox. Look me in the eyes, thou Wanderer,\nlook me in the eyes, and I will show thee whether or not thou art\nOdysseus,\u201d and she leaned forward so that her hair well-nigh swept his\nbrow, and gazed deep into his eyes.\n\nNow the Wanderer was ashamed to drop his eyes before a woman\u2019s, and he\ncould not rise and go; so he must needs gaze, and as he gazed his head\ngrew strangely light and the blood quivered in his veins, and then\nseemed to stop.\n\n\u201cNow turn, thou Wanderer,\u201d said the voice of the Queen, and to him it\nsounded far away, as if there was a wall between them, \u201cand tell me\nwhat thou seest.\u201d\n\nSo he turned and looked towards the dark end of the chamber. But\npresently through the darkness stole a faint light, like the first grey\nlight of the dawn, and now he saw a shape, like the shape of a great\nhorse of wood, and behind the horse were black square towers of huge\nstones, and gates, and walls, and houses. Now he saw a door open in the\nside of the horse, and the helmeted head of a man look out wearily. As\nhe looked a great white star slid down the sky so that the light of it\nrested on the face of the man, and that face was his own! Then he\nremembered how he had looked forth from the belly of the wooden horse\nas it stood within the walls of Ilios, and thus the star had seemed to\nfall upon the doomed city, an omen of the end of Troy.\n\n\u201cLook again,\u201d said the voice of Meriamun from far away.\n\nSo once more he looked into the darkness, and there he saw the mouth of\na cave, and beneath two palms in front of it sat a man and a woman. The\nyellow moon rose and its light fell upon a sleeping sea, upon tall\ntrees, upon the cave, and the two who sat there. The woman was lovely,\nwith braided hair, and clad in a shining robe, and her eyes were dim\nwith tears that she might never shed: for she was a Goddess, Calypso,\nthe daughter of Atlas. Then in the vision the man looked up, and his\nface was weary, and worn and sick for home, but it was his own face.\n\nThen he remembered how he had sat thus at the side of Calypso of the\nbraided tresses, on that last night of all his nights in her wave-girt\nisle, the centre of the seas.\n\n\u201cLook once more,\u201d said the voice of Meriamun the Queen.\n\nAgain he looked into the darkness. There before him grew the ruins of\nhis own hall in Ithaca, and in the courtyard before the hall was a heap\nof ashes, and the charred bones of men. Before the heap lay the figure\nof one lost in sorrow, for his limbs writhed upon the ground. Anon the\nman lifted his face, and behold! the Wanderer knew that it was his own\nface.\n\nThen of a sudden the gloom passed away from the chamber, and once more\nhis blood surged through his veins, and there before him sat Meriamun\nthe Queen, smiling darkly.\n\n\u201cStrange sights hast thou seen, is it not so, Wanderer?\u201d she said.\n\n\u201cYea, Queen, the most strange of sights. Tell me of thy courtesy how\nthou didst conjure them before my eyes.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy the magic that I have, Eperitus, I above all wizards who dwell in\nKhem, the magic whereby I can read all the past of those\u2014I love,\u201d and\nagain she looked upon him; \u201cay, and call it forth from the storehouse\nof dead time and make it live again. Say, whose face was it that thou\ndidst look upon\u2014was it not the face of Odysseus of Ithaca, Laertes\u2019\nson, and was not that face thine?\u201d\n\nNow the Wanderer saw that there was no escape. Therefore he spoke the\ntruth, not because he loved it, but because he must.\n\n\u201cThe face of Odysseus of Ithaca it was that I saw before me, Lady, and\nthat face is mine. I avow myself to be Odysseus, Laertes\u2019 son, and no\nother man.\u201d\n\nThe Queen laughed aloud. \u201cGreat must be my strength of magic,\u201d she\nsaid, \u201cfor it can strip the guile from the subtlest of men. Henceforth,\nOdysseus, thou wilt know that the eyes of Meriamun the Queen see far.\nNow tell me truly: what camest thou hither to seek?\u201d\n\nThe Wanderer took swift counsel with himself. Remembering that dream of\nMeriamun of which Rei the Priest had told him, and which she knew not\nthat he had learned, the dream that showed her the vision of one whom\nshe must love, and remembering the word of the dead Hataska, he grew\nafraid. For he saw well by the token of the spear point that he was the\nman of her dream, and that she knew it. But he could not accept her\nlove, both because of his oath to Pharaoh and because of her whom\nAphrodite had shown to him in Ithaca, her whom alone he must seek, the\nHeart\u2019s Desire, the Golden Helen.\n\nThe strait was desperate, between a broken oath and a woman scorned.\nBut he feared his oath, and the anger of Zeus, the God of hosts and\nguests. So he sought safety beneath the wings of truth.\n\n\u201cLady,\u201d he said, \u201cI will tell thee all! I came to Ithaca from the white\nnorth, where a curse had driven me; I came and found my halls desolate,\nand my people dead, and the very ashes of my wife. But in a dream of\nthe night I saw the Goddess whom I have worshipped little, Aphrodite of\nIdalia, whom in this land ye name Hathor, and she bade me go forth and\ndo her will. And for reward she promised me that I should find one who\nwaited me to be my deathless love.\u201d\n\nMeriamun heard him so far, but no further, for of this she made sure,\nthat _she_ was the woman whom Aphrodite had promised to the Wanderer.\nEre he might speak another word she glided to him like a snake, and\nlike a snake curled herself about him. Then she spoke so low that he\nrather knew her thought than heard her words:\n\n\u201cWas it indeed so, Odysseus? Did the Goddess indeed send thee to seek\nme out? Know, then, that not to thee alone did she speak. I also looked\nfor thee. I also waited the coming of one whom I should love. Oh, heavy\nhave been the days, and empty was my heart, and sorely through the\nyears have I longed for him who should be brought to me. And now at\nlength it is done, now at length I see him whom in my dream I saw,\u201d and\nshe lifted her lips to the lips of the Wanderer, and her heart, and her\neyes, and her lips said \u201cLove.\u201d\n\nBut it was not for nothing that he bore a stout and patient heart, and\na brain unclouded by danger or by love. He had never been in a strait\nlike this; caught with bonds that no sword could cut, and in toils that\nno skill could undo. On one side were love and pleasure\u2014on the other a\nbroken oath, and the loss for ever of the Heart\u2019s Desire. For to love\nanother woman, as he had been warned, was to lose Helen. But again, if\nhe scorned the Queen\u2014nay, for all his hardihood he dared not tell her\nthat she was not the woman of his vision, the woman he came to seek.\nYet even now his cold courage and his cunning did not fail him.\n\n\u201cLady,\u201d he said, \u201cwe both have dreamed. But if thou didst dream thou\nwert my love, thou didst wake to find thyself the wife of Pharaoh. And\nPharaoh is my host and hath my oath.\u201d\n\n\u201cI woke to find myself the wife of Pharaoh,\u201d she echoed, wearily, and\nher arms uncurled from his neck and she sank back on the couch. \u201cI am\nPharaoh\u2019s wife in word, but not in deed. Pharaoh is nothing to me, thou\nWanderer\u2014nought save a name.\u201d\n\n\u201cYet is my oath much to me, Queen Meriamun\u2014my oath and the hospitable\nhearth,\u201d the Wanderer made answer. \u201cI swore to Meneptah to hold thee\nfrom all ill, and there\u2019s an end.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd if Pharaoh comes back no more, what then Odysseus?\u201d\n\n\u201cThen will we talk again. And now, Lady, thy safety calls me to visit\nthy Guard.\u201d And without more words he rose and went.\n\nThe Queen looked after him.\n\n\u201cA strange man,\u201d she said in her heart, \u201cwho builds a barrier with his\noath betwixt himself and her he loves and has wandered so far to win!\nYet methinks I honour him the more. Pharaoh Meneptah, my husband, eat,\ndrink, and be merry, for this I promise thee\u2014short shall be thy days.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\nTHE CHAPEL PERILOUS\n\n\n\u201cSwift as a bird or a thought,\u201d says the old harper of the Northern\nSea. The Wanderer\u2019s thoughts in the morning were swift as night birds,\nflying back and brooding over the things he had seen and the words he\nhad heard in the Queen\u2019s chamber. Again he stood between this woman and\nthe oath which, of all oaths, was the worst to break. And, indeed, he\nwas little tempted to break it, for though Meriamun was beautiful and\nwise, he feared her love and he feared her magic art no less than he\nfeared her vengeance if she were scorned. Delay seemed the only course.\nLet him wait till the King returned, and it would go hard but he found\nsome cause for leaving the city of Tanis, and seeking through new\nadventures the World\u2019s Desire. The mysterious river lay yonder. He\nwould ascend the river of which so many tales were told. It flowed from\nthe land of the blameless _\u00c6thiopians_, the most just of men, at whose\ntables the very Gods sat as guests. There, perchance, far up the sacred\nstream, in a land where no wrong ever came, there, if the Fates\npermitted, he might find the Golden Helen.\n\nIf the Fates permitted: but all the adventure was of the Fates, who had\nshown him to Meriamun in a dream.\n\nHe turned it long in his mind and found little light. It seemed that as\nhe had drifted through darkness across a blood-red sea to the shores of\nKhem, so he should wade through blood to that shore of Fate which the\nGods appointed.\n\nYet after a while he shook sorrow from him, arose, bathed, anointed\nhimself, combed his dark locks, and girded on his golden armour. For\nnow he remembered that this was the day when the Strange Hathor should\nstand upon the pylon of the temple and call the people to her, and he\nwas minded to look upon her, and if need be to do battle with that\nwhich guarded her.\n\nSo he prayed to Aphrodite that she would help him, and he poured out\nwine to her and waited; he waited, but no answer came to his prayer.\nYet as he turned away it chanced that he saw his countenance in the\nwide golden cup whence he had poured, and it seemed to him that it had\ngrown more fair and lost the stamp of years, and that his face was\nsmooth and young as the face of that Odysseus who, many years ago, had\nsailed in the black ships and looked back on the smoking ruins of windy\nTroy. In this he saw the hand of the Goddess, and knew that if she\nmight not be manifest in this land of strange Gods, yet she was with\nhim. And, knowing this, his heart grew light as the heart of a boy from\nwhom sorrow is yet a long way off, and who has not dreamed of death.\n\nThen he ate and drank, and when he had put from him the desire of food\nhe arose and girded on the sword, Euryalus\u2019s gift, but the black bow he\nleft in its case. Now he was ready and about to set forth when Rei the\nPriest entered the chamber.\n\n\u201cWhither goest thou, Eperitus?\u201d asked Rei, the instructed Priest. \u201cAnd\nwhat is it that has made thy face so fair, as though many years had\nbeen lifted from thy back?\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2019Tis but sweet sleep, Rei,\u201d said the Wanderer. \u201cDeeply I slept last\nnight, and the weariness of my wanderings fell from me, and now I am as\nI was before I sailed across the blood-red sea into the night.\u201d\n\n\u201cSell thou the secret of this sleep to the ladies of Khem,\u201d answered\nthe aged priest, smiling, \u201cand little shalt thou lack of wealth for all\nthy days.\u201d\n\nThus he spake as though he believed the Wanderer, but in his heart he\nknew that the thing was of the Gods.\n\nThe Wanderer answered:\n\n\u201cI go up to the Temple of the Hathor, for thou dost remember it is\nto-day that she stands upon the pylon brow and calls the people to her.\nComest thou also, Rei?\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, nay, I come not, Eperitus. I am old indeed, but yet the blood\ncreeps through these withered veins, and, perchance, if I came and\nlooked, the madness would seize me also, and I too should rush to my\nslaying. There is a way in which a man may listen to the voice of the\nHathor, and that is to have his eyes blindfolded, as many do. But even\nthen he will tear the bandage from his eyes, and look, and die with the\nothers. Oh, go not up, Eperitus\u2014I pray thee go not up. I love thee\u2014I\nknow not why\u2014and am little minded to see thee dead. Though, perchance,\u201d\nhe added, as though to himself, \u201cit would be well for those I serve if\nthou wert dead, thou Wanderer, with the eyes of Fate.\u201d\n\n\u201cHave no fear, Rei,\u201d said the Wanderer, \u201cas it is doomed so shall I die\nand not otherwise. Never shall it be told,\u201d he murmured in his heart,\n\u201cthat he who stood in arms against Scylla, the Horror of the Rock,\nturned back from any form of fear or from any shape of Love.\u201d\n\nThen Rei wrung his hands and went nigh to weeping, for to him it seemed\na pitiful thing that so goodly a man and so great a hero should thus be\ndone to death. But the Wanderer passed out through the city, and Rei\nwent with him for a certain distance. At length they came to the road\nset on either side with sphinxes, that leads from the outer wall of\nbrick to the garden of the Temple of Hathor, and down this road hurried\na multitude of men of all races and of every age. Here the prince was\nborne along in his litter; here the young noble travelled in his\nchariot. Here came the slave bespattered with the mud of the fields;\nhere the cripple limped upon his crutches; and here was the blind man\nled by a hound. And with each man came women: the wife of the man, or\nhis mother, or his sisters, or she to whom he was vowed in marriage.\nWeeping they came, and with soft words and clinging arms they strove to\nhold back him whom they loved.\n\n\u201cOh, my son! my son!\u201d cried a woman, \u201chearken to thy mother\u2019s voice. Go\nnot up to look upon the Goddess, for if thou dost look then shalt thou\ndie, and thou alone art left alive to me. Two brothers of thine I bore,\nand behold, both are dead; and wilt thou die also, and leave me, who am\nold, alone and desolate? Be not mad, my son, thou art the dearest of\nall; ever have I loved thee and tended thee. Come back, I pray\u2014come\nback.\u201d\n\nBut her son heard not and heeded not, pressing on toward the Gates of\nthe Heart\u2019s Desire.\n\n\u201cOh, my husband, my husband!\u201d cried another, young, of gentle birth,\nand fair, who bare a babe on her left arm and with the right clutched\nher lord\u2019s broidered robe. \u201cOh, my husband, have I not loved thee and\nbeen kind to thee, and wilt thou still go up to look upon the deadly\nglory of the Hathor? They say she wears the beauty of the Dead. Lovest\nthou me not better than her who died five years agone, Merisa the\ndaughter of Rois, though thou didst love her first? See, here is thy\nbabe, thy babe, but one week born. Even from my bed of pain have I\nrisen and followed after thee down these weary roads, and I am like to\nlose my life for it. Here is thy babe, let it plead with thee. Let me\ndie if so it must be, but go not thou up to thy death. It is no Goddess\nwhom thou wilt see, but an evil spirit loosed from the under-world, and\nthat shall be thy doom. Oh, if I please thee not, take thou another\nwife and I will make her welcome, only go not up to thy death!\u201d\n\nBut the man fixed his eyes upon the pylon tops, heeding her not, and at\nlength she sank upon the road, and there with the babe would have been\ncrushed by the chariots, had not the Wanderer borne her to one side of\nthe way.\n\nNow, of all sights this was the most dreadful, for on every side rose\nthe prayers and lamentations of women, and still the multitude of men\npressed on unheeding.\n\n\u201cNow thou seest the power of Love, and how if a woman be but beautiful\nenough she may drag all men to ruin,\u201d said Rei the Priest.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said the Wanderer; \u201ca strange sight, truly. Much blood hath this\nHathor of thine upon her hands.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd yet thou wilt give her thine, Wanderer.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat I am not minded to do,\u201d he answered; \u201cyet I will look upon her\nface, so speak no more of it.\u201d\n\nNow they were come to the space before the bronze gates of the pylon of\nthe outer court, and there the multitude gathered to the number of many\nhundreds. Presently, as they watched, a priest came to the gates, that\nsame priest who had shown the Wanderer the bodies in the baths of\nbronze. He looked through the bars and cried aloud:\n\n\u201cWhoso would enter into the court and look upon the Holy Hathor let him\ndraw nigh. Know ye this, all men, the Hathor is to him who can win her.\nBut if he pass not, then shall he die and be buried within the temple,\nnor shall he ever look upon the sun again. Of this ye are warned. Since\nthe Hathor came again to Khem, of men seven hundred and three have gone\nto win her, and of bodies seven hundred and two lie within the vaults,\nfor of all these men Pharaoh Meneptah alone hath gone back living. Yet\nthere is place for more! Enter, ye who would look upon the Hathor!\u201d\n\nNow there arose a mighty wailing from the women. They clung madly about\nthe necks of those who were dear to them, and some clung not in vain.\nFor the hearts of many failed them at the last, and they shrank from\nentering in. But a few of those who had already looked upon the Hathor\nfrom afar, perchance a score in all, struck the women from them and\nrushed up to the gates.\n\n\u201cSurely thou wilt not enter in?\u201d quoth Rei, clinging to the arm of the\nWanderer. \u201cOh, turn thy back on death and come back with me. I pray\nthee turn.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay,\u201d said the Wanderer, \u201cI will go in.\u201d\n\nThen Rei the Priest threw dust upon his head, wept aloud, and turned\nand fled, never stopping till he came to the Palace, where sat Meriamun\nthe Queen.\n\nNow the priest unbarred a wicket in the gates of bronze, and one by one\nthose who were stricken of the madness entered in. For all of these had\nseen the Hathor many times from afar without the wall, and now they\ncould no more withstand their longing. And as they entered two other\npriests took them by the hand and bound their eyes with cloths, so that\nunless they willed it they might not see the glory of the Hathor, but\nonly hear the sweetness of her voice. But two there were who would not\nbe blindfolded, and of these one was that man whose wife had fainted by\nthe way, and the other was a man sightless from his youth. For although\nhe might not see the beauty of the Goddess, this man was made mad by\nthe sweetness of her voice. Now, when all had entered in, save the\nWanderer, there was a stir in the crowd, and a man rushed up. He was\ntravel-stained, he had a black beard, black eyes, and a nose hooked\nlike a vulture\u2019s beak.\n\n\u201cHold!\u201d he cried. \u201cHold! Shut not the gates! Night and day have I\njourneyed from the host of the Apura who fly into the wilderness. Night\nand day have I journeyed, leaving wife and flocks and children and the\nPromise of the Land, that I may once more look upon the beauty of the\nHathor. Shut not the gates!\u201d\n\n\u201cPass in,\u201d said the priest, \u201cpass in, so shall we be rid of one of\nthose whom Khem nurtured up to rob her.\u201d\n\nHe entered; then, as the priest was about to bar the wicket, the\nWanderer strode forward, and his golden armour clashed beneath the\nportal.\n\n\u201cWouldst thou indeed enter to thy doom, thou mighty lord?\u201d asked the\npriest, for he knew him well again.\n\n\u201cAy, I enter; but perchance not to my doom,\u201d answered the Wanderer.\nThen he passed in and the brazen gate was shut behind him.\n\nNow the two priests came forward to bind his eyes, but this he would\nnot endure.\n\n\u201cNot so,\u201d he said; \u201cI am come here to see what may be seen.\u201d\n\n\u201cGo to, thou madman, go to! and die the death,\u201d they answered, and led\nall the men to the centre of the courtyard whence they might see the\npylon top. Then the priests also covered up their eyes and cast\nthemselves at length upon the ground; so for a while they lay, and all\nwas silence within and without the court, for they waited the coming of\nthe Hathor. The Wanderer glanced through the bars of bronze at the\nmultitude gathered there. Silent they stood with upturned eyes, even\nthe women had ceased from weeping and stood in silence. He looked at\nthose beside him. Their bandaged faces were lifted and they stared\ntowards the pylon top as though their vision pierced the cloths. The\nblind man, too, stared upward, and his pale lips moved, but no sound\ncame from them. Now at the foot of the pylon lay a little rim of\nshadow. Thinner and thinner it grew as the moments crept on towards the\nperfect noon. Now there was but a line, and now the line was gone, for\nthe sun\u2019s red disc burned high in the blue heaven straight above the\npylon brow. Then suddenly and from afar there came a faint sweet sound\nof singing, and at the first note of the sound a great sigh went up\nthrough the quiet air, from all the multitude without. Those who were\nnear the Wanderer sighed also, and their lips and fingers twitched, and\nhe himself sighed, though he knew not why.\n\nNearer came the sweet sound of singing, and stronger it swelled, till\npresently those without the temple gate who were on higher ground\ncaught sight of her who sang. Then a hoarse roar went up from every\nthroat, and madness took them. On they rushed, dashing themselves\nagainst the gates of bronze and the steep walls on either side, and\nbeat upon them madly with their fists and brows, and climbed on each\nother\u2019s shoulders, gnawing at the bars with their teeth, crying to be\nlet in. But the women threw their arms about them and screamed curses\non her whose beauty brought all men to madness.\n\nSo it went for a while, till presently the Wanderer looked up, and lo!\nupon the pylon\u2019s brow stood the woman\u2019s self, and at her coming all\nwere once more silent. She was tall and straight, clad in clinging\nwhite, but on her breast there glowed a blood-red ruby stone, fashioned\nlike a star, and from it fell red drops that stained for one moment the\nwhiteness of her robes, and then the robe was white again. Her golden\nhair was tossed this way and that, and shone in the sunlight, her arms\nand neck were bare, and she held one hand before her eyes as though to\nhide the brightness of her beauty. For, indeed, she could not be called\nbeautiful but Beauty itself.\n\nAnd they who had not loved saw in her that first love whom no man has\never won, and they who had loved saw that first love whom every man has\nlost. And all about her rolled a glory\u2014like the glory of the dying day.\nSweetly she sang a song of promise, and her voice was the voice of each\nman\u2019s desire, and the heart of the Wanderer thrilled in answer to it as\nthrills a harp smitten by a cunning hand; and thus she sang:\n\nWhom hast thou longed for most,\n    True love of mine?\nWhom hast thou loved and lost?\n    Lo, she is thine!\n\nShe that another wed\n    Breaks from her vow;\nShe that hath long been dead\n    Wakes for thee now.\n\nDreams haunt the hapless bed,\n    Ghosts haunt the night,\nLife crowns her living head,\n    Love and Delight.\n\nNay, not a dream nor ghost,\n    Nay, but Divine,\nShe that was loved and lost\n    Waits to be thine!\n\n\nShe ceased, and a moan of desire went up from all who heard.\n\nThen the Wanderer saw that those beside him tore at the bandages about\ntheir brows and rent them loose. Only the priests who lay upon the\nground stirred not, though they also moaned.\n\nAnd now again she sang, still holding her hand before her face:\n\nYe that seek me, ye that sue me,\n    Ye that flock beneath my tower,\nYe would win me, would undo me,\n    I must perish in an hour,\nDead before the Love that slew me, clasped the\n    Bride and crushed the flower.\n\nHear the word and mark the warning,\n    Beauty lives but in your sight,\nBeauty fades from all men\u2019s scorning\n    In the watches of the night,\nBeauty wanes before the morning, and\n    Love dies in his delight.\n\n\nShe ceased, and once more there was silence. Then suddenly she bent\nforward across the pylon brow so far that it seemed that she must fall,\nand stretching out her arms as though to clasp those beneath, showed\nall the glory of her loveliness.\n\nThe Wanderer looked, then dropped his eyes as one who has seen the\nbrightness of the noonday sun. In the darkness of his mind the world\nwas lost, and he could think of naught save the clamour of the people,\nwhich fretted his ears. They were all crying, and none were listening.\n\n\u201cSee! see!\u201d shouted one. \u201cLook at her hair; it is dark as the raven\u2019s\nwing, and her eyes\u2014they are dark as night. Oh, my love! my love!\u201d\n\n\u201cSee! see!\u201d cried another, \u201cwere ever skies so blue as those eyes of\nhers, was ever foam so white as those white arms?\u201d\n\n\u201cEven so she looked whom once I wed many summers gone,\u201d murmured a\nthird, \u201ceven so when first I drew her veil. Hers was that gentle smile\nbreaking like ripples on the water, hers that curling hair, hers that\nchild-like grace.\u201d\n\n\u201cWas ever woman so queenly made?\u201d said a fourth. \u201cLook now on the brow\nof pride, look on the deep, dark eyes of storm, the arched lips, and\nthe imperial air. Ah, here indeed is a Goddess meet for worship.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot so I see her,\u201d cried a fifth, that man who had come from the host\nof the Apura. \u201cPale she is and fair, tall indeed, but delicately\nshaped, brown is her hair, and brown are her great eyes like the eyes\nof a stag, and ah, sadly she looks upon me, looking for my love.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy eyes are opened,\u201d screamed the blind man at the Wanderer\u2019s side.\n\u201cMy eyes are opened, and I see the pylon tower and the splendid sun.\nLove hath touched me on the eyes and they are opened. But lo! not one\nshape hath she but many shapes. Oh, she is Beauty\u2019s self, and no tongue\nmay tell her glory. Let me die! let me die, for my eyes are opened. I\nhave looked on Beauty\u2019s self! I know what all the world journeys on to\nseek, and why we die and what we go to find in death.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\nTHE WARDENS OF THE GATE\n\n\nThe clamour swelled or sank, and the men called or cried the names of\nmany women, some dead, some lost. Others were mute, silent in the\npresence of the World\u2019s Desire, silent as when we see lost faces in a\ndream. The Wanderer had looked once and then cast down his eyes and\nstood with his face hidden in his hands. He alone waited and strove to\nthink; the rest were abandoned to the bewilderment of their passions\nand their amaze.\n\nWhat was it that he had seen? That which he had sought his whole life\nlong; sought by sea and land, not knowing what he sought. For this he\nhad wandered with a hungry heart, and now was the hunger of his heart\nto be appeased? Between him and her was the unknown barrier and the\ninvisible Death. Was he to pass the unmarked boundary, to force those\nguarded gates and achieve where all had failed? Had a magic deceived\nhis eyes? Did he look but on a picture and a vision that some art could\ncall again from the haunted place of Memory?\n\nHe sighed and looked again. Lo! in his charmed sight a fair girl seemed\nto stand upon the pylon brow, and on her head she bore a shining urn of\nbronze.\n\nHe knew her now. He had seen her thus at the court of King Tyndareus as\nhe drove in his chariot through the ford of Eurotas; thus he had seen\nher also in the dream on the Silent Isle.\n\nAgain he sighed and again he looked. Now in his charmed sight a woman\nsat, whose face was the face of the girl, grown more lovely far, but\nsad with grief and touched with shame.\n\nHe saw her and he knew her. So he had seen her in Troy towers when he\nstole thither in a beggar\u2019s guise from the camp of the Ach\u00e6ans. So he\nhad seen her when she saved his life in Ilios.\n\nAgain he sighed and again he looked, and now he saw the Golden Helen.\n\nShe stood upon the pylon\u2019s brow. She stood with arms outstretched, with\neyes upturned, and on her shining face there was a smile like the\ninfinite smile of the dawn. Oh, now indeed he knew the shape that was\nBeauty\u2019s self\u2014the innocent Spirit of Love sent on earth by the undying\nGods to be the doom and the delight of men; to draw them through the\nways of strife to the unknown end.\n\nAwhile the Golden Helen stood thus looking up and out to the worlds\nbeyond; to the peace beyond the strife, to the goal beyond the grave.\nThus she stood while men scarce dared to breathe, summoning all to come\nand take that which upon the earth is guarded so invincibly.\n\nThen once more she sang, and as she sang, slowly drew herself away,\ntill at length nothing was left of the vision of her save the sweetness\nof her dying song.\n\nWho wins his Love shall lose her,\n    Who loses her shall gain,\nFor still the spirit woos her,\n    A soul without a stain;\nAnd Memory still pursues her\n    With longings not in vain!\n\nHe loses her who gains her,\n    Who watches day by day\nThe dust of time that stains her,\n    The griefs that leave her grey,\nThe flesh that yet enchains her\n    Whose grace hath passed away!\n\nOh, happier he who gains not\n    The Love some seem to gain:\nThe joy that custom stains not\n    Shall still with him remain,\nThe loveliness that wanes not,\n    The love that ne\u2019er can wane.\n\nIn dreams she grows not older\n    The lands of Dream among,\nThough all the world wax colder,\n    Though all the songs be sung,\nIn dreams doth he behold her\n    Still fair and kind and young.\n\n\nNow the silence died away, and again madness came upon those who had\nlistened and looked. The men without the wall once more hurled\nthemselves against the gates, while the women clung to them, shrieking\ncurses on the beauty of the Hathor, for the song meant nothing to these\nwomen, and their arms were about those whom they loved and who won them\ntheir bread. But most of the men who were in the outer court rushed up\nto the inner gates within which stood the alabaster shrine of the\nHathor. Some flung themselves upon the ground and clutched at it, as in\ndreams men fling themselves down to be saved from falling into a pit\nthat has no bottom. Yet as in such an evil slumber the dreamer is drawn\ninch by inch to the mouth of the pit by an unseen hand, so these\nwretched men were dragged along the ground by the might of their own\ndesire. In vain they set their feet against the stones to hold\nthemselves from going, for they thrust forward yet more fiercely with\ntheir hands, and thus little by little drew near the inner gates\nwrithing forwards yet moving backwards like a wounded snake dragged\nalong by a rope. For of those who thus entered the outer court and\nlooked upon the Hathor, few might go back alive.\n\nNow the priests drew the cloths from their eyes, and rising, flung wide\nthe second gates, and there, but a little way off, the veil of the\nshrine wavered as if in a wind. For now the doors beyond the veil were\nthrown open, as might be seen when the wind swayed its Tyrian web, and\nthrough the curtain came the sound of the same sweet singing.\n\n\u201cDraw near! Draw near!\u201d cried the ancient priest. \u201cLet him who would\nwin the Hathor draw near!\u201d\n\nNow at first the Wanderer was minded to rush on. But his desire had not\nwholly overcome him, nor had his wisdom left him. He took counsel with\nhis heart and waited to let the others go, and to see how it fared with\nthem.\n\nThe worshippers were now hurrying back and now darting onwards, as fear\nand longing seized them, till the man who was blind drew near, led by\nthe hand of a priest, for his hound might not enter the second court of\nthe temple.\n\n\u201cDo ye fear?\u201d he cried. \u201cCowards, I fear not. It is better to look upon\nthe glory of the Hathor and die than to live and never see her more.\nSet my face straight, ye priests, set my face straight, at the worst I\ncan but die.\u201d\n\nSo they led him as near the curtains as they dared to go and set his\nface straight. Then with a great cry he rushed on. But he was caught\nand whirled about like a leaf in a wind, so that he fell. He rose and\nagain rushed on, again to be whirled back. A third time he rose and\nrushed on, smiting with his blind man\u2019s staff. The blow fell, and\nstayed in mid-air, and there came a hollow sound as of a smitten\nshield, and the staff that dealt the blow was shattered. Then there was\na noise like the noise of clashing swords, and the man instantly sank\ndown dead, though the Wanderer could see no wound upon him.\n\n\u201cDraw near! Draw near!\u201d cried the priest again. \u201cThis one is fallen.\nLet him who would win the Hathor draw near!\u201d\n\nThen the man who had fled from the host of the Apura rushed forward,\ncrying on the Lion of his tribe. Back he was hurled, and back again,\nbut at the third time once more there came the sound of clashing\nswords, and he too fell dead.\n\n\u201cDraw near! Draw near!\u201d cried the priest. \u201cAnother has fallen! Let him\nwho would win the Hathor draw near!\u201d\n\nAnd now man after man rushed on, to be first hurled back and then slain\nof the clashing swords. And at length all were slain save the Wanderer\nalone.\n\nThen the priest spake:\n\n\u201cWilt thou indeed rush on to doom, thou glorious man? Thou hast seen\nthe fate of many. Be warned and turn away.\u201d\n\n\u201cNever did I turn from man or ghost,\u201d said the Wanderer, and drawing\nhis short sword he came near, warily covering his head with his broad\nshield, while the priests stood back to see him die. Now, the Wanderer\nhad marked that none were touched till they stood at the very threshold\nof the doorway. Therefore he uttered a prayer to Aphrodite and came on\nslowly till his feet were within a bow\u2019s length of the threshold, and\nthere he stood and listened. Now he could hear the very words of the\nsong that the Hathor sang as she wove at her loom. So dread and sweet\nit was that for a while he thought no more on the Guardians of the\nGate, nor of how he might win the way, nor of aught save the song. For\nshe was singing shrill and clear in his own dear tongue, the tongue of\nthe Ach\u00e6ans:\n\nPaint with threads of gold and scarlet, paint the battles fought for\nme,\nAll the wars for Argive Helen; storm and sack by land or sea;\nAll the tale of loves and sorrows that have been and are to be.\n\nPaint her lips that like a cup have pledged the lips of heroes all,\nPaint her golden hair unwhitened while the many winters fall,\nPaint the beauty that is mistress of the wide world and its thrall!\n\nPaint the storms of ships and chariots, rain of arrows flying far,\nPaint the waves of Warfare leaping up at Beauty like a star,\nLike a star that pale and trembling hangs above the waves of War.\n\nPaint the ancient Ilios fallen; paint the flames that scaled the sky,\nWhen the foe was in the fortress, when the trumpet and the cry\nRang of men in their last onset, men whose hour had dawned to die.\n\nWoe for me once loved of all men, me that never yet have known\nHow to love the hearts that loved me. Woe for woe, who hear the moan\nOf my lovers\u2019 ghosts that perished in their cities overthrown.\n\nIs there not, of Gods or mortals, oh, ye Gods, is there not one\u2014\nOne whose heart shall mate with my heart, one to love ere all be done,\nAll the tales of wars that shall be for my love beneath the sun?\n\n\nNow the song died away, and the Wanderer once more bethought him of the\nWardens of the Gate and of the battle which he must fight. But as he\nbraced himself to rush on against the unseen foe the music of the\nsinging swelled forth again, and whether he willed it or willed it not,\nso sweet was its magic that there he must wait till the song was done.\nAnd now stronger and more gladly rang the sweet shrill voice, like the\nvoice of one who has made moan through the livelong winter night, and\nnow sees the chariot of the dawn climbing the eastern sky. And thus the\nHathor sang:\n\nAh, within my heart a hunger for the love unfelt, unknown,\nStirs at length, and wakes and murmurs as a child that wakes to moan,\nLeft to sleep within some silent house of strangers and alone.\n\nSo my heart awakes, and waking, moans with hunger and with cold,\nCries in pain of dim remembrance for the joy that was of old;\nFor the love that was, that shall be, half forgot and half foretold.\n\nHave I dreamed it or remembered? In another world was I,\nLived and loved in alien seasons, moved beneath a golden sky,\nIn a golden clime where never came the strife of men that die.\n\nBut the Gods themselves were jealous, for our bliss was over great,\nAnd they brought on us division, and the horror of their Hate,\nAnd they set the Snake between us, and the twining coils of Fate.\n\nAnd they said, \u201cGo forth and seek each other\u2019s face, and only find\nShadows of that face ye long for, dreams of days left far behind,\nLove the shadows and be loved with loves that waver as the wind.\u201d\n\n\nOnce more the sweet singing died away, but as the Wanderer grasped his\nsword and fixed the broad shield upon his arm he remembered the dream\nof Meriamun the Queen, which had been told him by Rei the Priest. For\nin that dream twain who had sinned were made three, and through many\ndeaths and lives must seek each other\u2019s face. And now it seemed that\nthe burden of the song was the burden of the dream.\n\nThen he thought no more on dreams, or songs, or omens, but only on the\ndeadly foe that stood before him wrapped in darkness, and on Helen, in\nwhose arms he yet should lie, for so the Goddess had sworn to him in\nsea-girt Ithaca. He spoke no word, he named no God, but sprang forward\nas a lion springs from his bed of reeds; and, lo! his buckler clashed\nagainst shields that barred the way, and invisible arms seized him to\nhurl him back. But no weakling was the Wanderer, thus to be pushed\naside by magic, but the stoutest man left alive in the whole world now\nthat Aias, Telamon\u2019s son, was dead. The priests wondered as they saw\nhow he gave back never a step, for all the might of the Wardens of the\nGate, but lifted his short sword and hewed down so terribly that fire\nleapt from the air where the short sword fell, the good short sword of\nEuryalus the Ph\u00e6acian. Then came the clashing of the swords, and from\nall the golden armour that once the god-like Paris wore, ay, from\nbuckler, helm, and greaves, and breastplate the sparks streamed up as\nthey stream from the anvil of the smith when he smites great blows on\nswords made white with fire.\n\nSwift as hail fell the blows of the unseen blades upon the golden\narmour, but he who wore it took no harm, nor was it so much as marked\nwith the dint of the swords. So while the priests wondered at this\nmiracle the viewless Wardens of the Gate smote at the Wanderer, and the\nWanderer smote at them again. Then of a sudden he knew this, that they\nwho barred the path were gone, for no more blows fell, and his sword\nonly cut the air.\n\nThen he rushed on and passed behind the veil and stood within the\nshrine.\n\nBut as the curtains swung behind him the singing rose again upon the\nair, and he might not move, but stood fixed with his eyes gazing where,\nfar up, a loom was set within the shrine. For the sound of the singing\ncame from behind the great web gleaming in the loom, the sound of the\nsong of Helen as she heard the swords clash and the ringing of the\nharness of those whose knees were loosened in death. It was thus she\nsang:\n\nClamour of iron on iron, and shrieking of steel upon steel,\n    Hark how they echo again!\nLife with the dead is at war, and the mortals are shaken and reel,\n    The living are slain by the slain!\n\nClamour of iron on iron; like music that chimes with a song,\n    So with my life doth it chime,\nAnd my footsteps must fall in the dance of Erinnys, a revel of wrong,\n    Till the day of the passing of Time!\n\nGhosts of the dead that have loved me, your love has been vanquished of\ndeath,\n    But unvanquished of death is your hate;\nSay, is there none that may woo me and win me of all that draw breath,\n    Not one but is envied of Fate?\n\n\nNow the song died, and the Wanderer looked up, and before him stood\nthree shadows of mighty men clad in armour. He gazed upon them, and he\nknew the blazons painted on their shields; he knew them for heroes long\ndead\u2014Pirithous, Theseus, and Aias.\n\nThey looked upon him, and then cried with one voice:\n\n\u201cHail to thee, Odysseus of Ithaca, son of Laertes!\u201d\n\n\u201cHail to thee,\u201d cried the Wanderer, \u201cTheseus, \u00c6geus\u2019 son! Once before\ndidst thou go down into the House of Hades, and alive thou camest forth\nagain. Hast thou crossed yet again the stream of Ocean, and dost thou\nlive in the sunlight? For of old I sought thee and found thee not in\nthe House of Hades?\u201d\n\nThe semblance of Theseus answered: \u201cIn the House of Hades I abide this\nday, and in the fields of asphodel. But that thou seest is a shadow,\nsent forth by Queen Persephone, to be the guard of the beauty of\nHelen.\u201d\n\n\u201cHail to thee, Pirithous, Ixion\u2019s son,\u201d cried the Wanderer again. \u201cHast\nthou yet won the dread Persephone to be thy love? And why doth Hades\ngive his rival holiday to wander in the sunlight, for of old I sought\nthee, and found thee not in the House of Hades.\u201d\n\nThen the semblance of Pirithous answered:\n\n\u201cIn the House of Hades I dwell this day, and that thou seest is but a\nshadow which goes with the shadow of the hero Theseus. For where he is\nam I, and where he goes I go, and our very shadows are not sundered;\nbut we guard the beauty of Helen.\u201d\n\n\u201cHail to thee, Aias, Telamon\u2019s son,\u201d cried the Wanderer. \u201cHast thou not\nforgotten thy wrath against me, for the sake of those accursed arms\nthat I won from thee, the arms of Achilles, son of Peleus? For of old\nin the House of Hades I spoke to thee, but thou wouldst not answer one\nword, so heavy was thine anger.\u201d\n\nThen the semblance of Aias made answer: \u201cWith iron upon iron, and the\nstroke of bronze on bronze, would I answer thee, if I were yet a living\nman and looked upon the sunlight. But I smite with a shadowy spear and\nslay none but men foredoomed, and I am the shade of Aias who dwells in\nHades. Yet the Queen Persephone sent me forth to be the guard of the\nbeauty of Helen.\u201d\n\nThen the Wanderer spake.\n\n\u201cTell me, ye shadows of the sons of heroes, is the way closed, and do\nthe Gods forbid it, or may I that am yet a living man pass forward and\ngaze on that ye guard, on the beauty of Helen?\u201d\n\nThen each of the three nodded with his head, and smote once upon his\nshield, saying:\n\n\u201cPass by, but look not back upon us, till thou hast seen thy desire.\u201d\n\nThen the Wanderer went by, into the innermost chamber of the alabaster\nshrine.\n\nNow when the shadows had spoken thus, they grew dim and vanished, and\nthe Wanderer, as they had commanded, drew slowly up on the alabaster\nshrine, till at length he stood on the hither side of the web upon the\nloom. It was a great web, wide and high, and hid all the innermost\nrecesses of the shrine. Here he waited, not knowing how he should break\nin upon the Hathor.\n\nAs he stood wondering thus his buckler slipped from his loosened hand\nand clashed upon the marble floor, and as it clashed the voice of the\nHathor took up the broken song; and thus she sang ever more sweetly:\u2014\n\nGhosts of the dead that have loved me, your love has been vanquished by\nDeath,\n    But unvanquished by Death is your Hate;\nSay, is there none that may woo me and win me of all that draw breath,\n    Not one but is envied of Fate?\n\nNone that may pass you unwounded, unscathed of invisible spears\u2014\n    By the splendour of Zeus there is one,\nAnd he comes, and my spirit is touched as Demeter is touched by the\ntears\n    Of the Spring and the kiss of the sun.\n\nFor he comes, and my heart that was chill as a lake in the season of\nsnow,\n    Is molten, and glows as with fire.\nAnd the Love that I knew not is born and he laughs in my heart, and I\nknow\n    The name and the flame of Desire.\n\nAs a flame I am kindled, a flame that is blown by a wind from the\nNorth,\n    By a wind that is deadly with cold,\nAnd the hope that awoke in me faints, for the Love that is born shall\ngo forth\n    To my Love, and shall die as of old!\n\n\nNow the song sobbed itself away, but the heart of the Wanderer echoed\nto its sweetness as a lyre moans and thrills when the hand of the\nstriker is lifted from the strings.\n\nFor a while he stood thus, hidden by the web upon the loom, while his\nlimbs shook like the leaves of the tall poplar, and his face turned\nwhite as turn the poplar leaves. Then desire overcame him, and a\nlonging he could not master, to look upon the face of her who sang, and\nhe seized the web upon the loom, and rent it with a great rending\nnoise, so that it fell down on either side of him, and the gold coils\nrippled at his feet.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\nTHE SHADOW IN THE SUNLIGHT\n\n\nThe torn web fell\u2014the last veil of the Strange Hathor. It fell, and all\nits unravelled threads of glittering gold and scarlet rippled and\ncoiled about the Wanderer\u2019s feet, and about the pillars of the loom.\n\nThe web was torn, the veil was rent, the labour was lost, the pictured\nstory of loves and wars was all undone.\n\nBut there, white in the silvery dusk of the alabaster shrine, there was\nthe visible Helen, the bride and the daughter of Mystery, the World\u2019s\nDesire!\n\nThere shone that fabled loveliness of which no story was too strange,\nof which all miracles seemed true. There, her hands folded on her lap,\nher head bowed\u2014there sat she whose voice was the echo of all sweet\nvoices, she whose shape was the mirror of all fair forms, she whose\nchangeful beauty, so they said, was the child of the changeful moon.\n\nHelen sat in a chair of ivory, gleaming even through the sunshine of\nher outspread hair. She was clothed in soft folds of white; on her\nbreast gleamed the Starstone, the red stone of the sea-deeps that melts\nin the sunshine, but that melted not on the breast of Helen. Moment by\nmoment the red drops from the ruby heart of the star fell on her snowy\nraiment, fell and vanished,\u2014fell and vanished,\u2014and left no stain.\n\nThe Wanderer looked on her face, but the beauty and the terror of it,\nas she raised it, were more than he could bear, and he stood like those\nwho saw the terror and the beauty of that face which changes men to\nstone.\n\nFor the lovely eyes of Helen stared wide, her lips, yet quivering with\nthe last notes of song, were wide open in fear. She seemed like one who\nwalks alone, and suddenly, in the noonday light, meets the hated dead;\nencountering the ghost of an enemy come back to earth with the instant\nsummons of doom.\n\nFor a moment the sight of her terror made even the Wanderer afraid.\nWhat was the horror she beheld in this haunted shrine, where was none\nsave themselves alone? What was with them in the shrine?\n\nThen he saw that her eyes were fixed on his golden armour which Paris\nonce had worn, on the golden shield with the blazon of the White Bull,\non the golden helm, whose visor was down so that it quite hid his eyes\nand his face\u2014and then at last her voice broke from her:\n\n\u201c_Paris! Paris! Paris!_ Has Death lost hold of thee? Hast thou come to\ndrag me back to thee and to shame? Paris, dead Paris! Who gave thee\ncourage to pass the shadows of men whom on earth thou hadst not dared\nto face in war?\u201d\n\nThen she wrung her hands, and laughed aloud with the empty laugh of\nfear.\n\nA thought came into that crafty mind of the Wanderer\u2019s, and he answered\nher, not in his own voice, but in the smooth, soft, mocking voice of\nthe traitor, Paris, whom he had heard forswear himself in the oath\nbefore Ilios.\n\n\u201cSo, lady, thou hast not yet forgiven Paris? Thou weavest the ancient\nweb, thou singest the ancient songs\u2014art thou still unkind as of old?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy art thou come back to taunt me?\u201d she said, and now she spoke as if\nan old familiar fear and horror were laying hold of her and mastering\nher again, after long freedom. \u201cWas it not enough to betray me in the\nsemblance of my wedded lord? Why dost thou mock?\u201d\n\n\u201cIn love all arts are fair,\u201d he answered in the voice of Paris. \u201cMany\nhave loved thee, Lady, and they are all dead for thy sake, and no love\nbut mine has been more strong than death. There is none to blame us\nnow, and none to hinder. Troy is down, the heroes are white dust; only\nLove lives yet. Wilt thou not learn, Lady, how a shadow can love?\u201d\n\nShe had listened with her head bowed, but now she leaped up with\nblazing eyes and face of fire.\n\n\u201cBegone!\u201d she said, \u201cthe heroes are dead for my sake, and to my shame,\nbut the shame is living yet. Begone! Never in life or death shall my\nlips touch the false lips that lied away my honour, and the false face\nthat wore the favour of my lord\u2019s.\u201d\n\nFor it was by shape-shifting and magic art, as poets tell, that Paris\nfirst beguiled Fair Helen.\n\nThen the Wanderer spoke again with the sweet, smooth voice of Paris,\nson of Priam.\n\n\u201cAs I passed up the shrine where thy glory dwells, Helen, I heard thee\nsing. And thou didst sing of the waking of thy heart, of the arising of\nLove within thy soul, and of the coming of one for whom thou dost wait,\nwhom thou didst love long since and shalt love for ever more. And as\nthou sangest, I came, I Paris, who was thy love, and who am thy love,\nand who alone of ghosts and men shall be thy love again. Wilt thou\nstill bid me go?\u201d\n\n\u201cI sang,\u201d she answered, \u201cyes, as the Gods put it in my heart so I\nsang\u2014for indeed it seemed to me that one came who was my love of old,\nand whom alone I must love, alone for ever. But thou wast not in my\nheart, thou false Paris! Nay, I will tell thee, and with the name will\nscare thee back to Hell. He was in my heart whom once as a maid I saw\ndriving in his chariot through the ford of Eurotas while I bore water\nfrom the well. He was in my heart whom once I saw in Troy, when he\ncrept thither clad in beggar\u2019s guise. Ay, Paris, I will name him by his\nname, for though he is long dead, yet him alone methinks I loved from\nthe very first, and him alone I shall love till my deathlessness is\ndone\u2014Odysseus, son of Laertes, Odysseus of Ithaca, he was named among\nmen, and Odysseus was in my heart as I sang and in my heart he shall\never be, though the Gods in their wrath have given me to others, to my\nshame, and against my will.\u201d\n\nNow when the Wanderer heard her speak, and heard his own name upon her\nlips, and knew that the Golden Helen loved him alone, it seemed to him\nas though his heart would burst his harness. No word could he find in\nhis heart to speak, but he raised the visor of his helm.\n\nShe looked\u2014she saw and knew him for Odysseus\u2014even Odysseus of Ithaca.\nThen in turn she hid her eyes with her hands, and speaking through them\nsaid:\n\n\u201cOh, Paris! ever wast thou false, but, ghost or man, of all thy shames\nthis is the shamefullest. Thou hast taken the likeness of a hero dead,\nand thou hast heard me speak such words of him as Helen never spoke\nbefore. Fie on thee, Paris! fie on thee! who wouldest trick me into\nshame as once before thou didst trick me in the shape of Menelaus, who\nwas my lord. Now I will call on Zeus to blast thee with his bolts. Nay,\nnot on Zeus will I call, but on Odysseus\u2019 self. _Odysseus! Odysseus!_\nCome thou from the shades and smite this Paris, this trickster, who\neven in death finds ways to mock thee.\u201d\n\nShe ceased, and with eyes upturned and arms outstretched murmured,\n\u201cOdysseus! Odysseus! Come.\u201d\n\nSlowly the Wanderer drew near to the glory of the Golden Helen\u2014slowly,\nslowly he came, till his dark eyes looked into her eyes of blue. Then\nat last he found his voice and spake.\n\n\u201cHelen! Argive Helen!\u201d he said, \u201cI am no shadow come up from Hell to\ntorment thee, and of Trojan Paris I know nothing. For I am Odysseus,\nOdysseus of Ithaca, a living man beneath the sunlight. Hither am I come\nto see thee, hither I am come to win thee to my heart. For yonder in\nIthaca Aphrodite visited me in a dream, and bade me wander out upon the\nseas till at length I found thee, Helen, and saw the Red Star blaze\nupon thy breast. And I have wandered, and I have dared, and I have\nheard thy song, and rent the web of Fate, and I have seen the Star, and\nlo! at last, at last! I find thee. Well I saw thou knewest the arms of\nParis, who was thy husband, and to try thee I spoke with the voice of\nParis, as of old thou didst feign the voices of our wives when we lay\nin the wooden horse within the walls of Troy. Thus I drew the sweetness\nof thy love from thy secret breast, as the sun draws out the sweetness\nof the flowers. But now I declare myself to be Odysseus, clad in the\nmail of Paris\u2014Odysseus come on this last journey to be thy love and\nlord.\u201d And he ceased.\n\nShe trembled and looked at him doubtfully, but at last she spoke:\n\n\u201cWell do I remember,\u201d she said, \u201cthat when I washed the limbs of\nOdysseus, in the halls of Ilios, I marked a great white scar beneath\nhis knee. If indeed thou art Odysseus, and not a phantom from the Gods,\nshow me that great scar.\u201d\n\nThen the Wanderer smiled, and, resting his buckler against the pillar\nof the loom, drew off his golden greave, and there was the scar that\nthe boar dealt with his tusk on the Parnassian hill when Odysseus was a\nboy.\n\n\u201cLook, Lady,\u201d he said; \u201cis this the scar that once thine eyes looked on\nin the halls of Troy?\u201d\n\n\u201cYea,\u201d she said, \u201cit is the very scar, and now I know that thou art no\nghost and no lying shape, but Odysseus\u2019 self, come to be my love and\nlord,\u201d and she looked most sweetly in his eyes.\n\nNow the Wanderer wavered no more, but put out his arms to gather her to\nhis heart. Now the Red Star was hidden on his breast, now the red drops\ndripped from the Star upon his mail, and the face of her who is the\nWorld\u2019s Desire grew soft in the shadow of his helm, while her eyes were\nmelted to tears beneath his kiss. The Gods send all lovers like joy!\n\nSoftly she sighed, softly drew back from his arms, and her lips were\nopened to speak when a change came over her face. The kind eyes were\nfull of fear again, as she gazed where, through the window of the\nshrine of alabaster, the sunlight flickered in gold upon the chapel\nfloor. What was that which flickered in the sunlight? or was it only\nthe dance of the motes in the beam? There was no shadow cast in the\nsunshine; why did she gaze as if she saw another watching this meeting\nof their loves? However it chanced, she mastered her fear; there was\neven a smile on her lips and mirth in her eyes as she turned and spoke\nagain.\n\n\u201cOdysseus, thou art indeed the cunningest of men. Thou hast stolen my\nsecret by thy craft; who save thee would dream of craft in such an\nhour? For when I thought thee Paris, and thy face was hidden by thy\nhelm, I called on Odysseus in my terror, as a child cries to a mother.\nMethinks I have ever held him dear; always I have found him ready at\nneed, though the Gods have willed that till this hour my love might not\nbe known, nay, not to my own heart; so I called on Odysseus, and those\nwords were wrung from me to scare false Paris back to his own place.\nBut the words that should have driven Paris down to Hell drew Odysseus\nto my breast. And now it is done, and I will not go back upon my words,\nfor we have kissed our kiss of troth, before the immortal Gods have we\nkissed, and those ghosts who guard the way to Helen, and whom thou\nalone couldst pass, as it was fated, are witnesses to our oath. And now\nthe ghosts depart, for no more need they guard the beauty of Helen. It\nis given to thee to have and keep, and now is Helen once more a very\nwoman, for at thy kiss the curse was broken. Ah, friend! since my lord\ndied in pleasant Laced\u00e6mon, what things have I seen and suffered by the\nGods\u2019 decree! But two things I will tell thee, Odysseus, and thou shalt\nread them as thou mayest. Though never before in thy life-days did thy\nlips touch mine, yet I know that not now for the first time we kiss.\nAnd this I know also, for the Gods have set it in my heart, that though\nour love shall be short, and little joy shall we have one of another,\nyet death shall not end it. For, Odysseus, I am a daughter of the Gods,\nand though I sleep and forget that which has been in my sleep, and\nthough my shape change as but now it seemed to change in the eyes of\nthose ripe to die, yet I die not. And for thee, though thou art mortal,\ndeath shall be but as the short summer nights that mark off day from\nday. For thou shalt live again, Odysseus, as thou hast lived before,\nand life by life we shall meet and love till the end is come.\u201d\n\nAs the Wanderer listened he thought once more of that dream of Meriamun\nthe Queen, which the priest Rei had told him. But he said nothing of it\nto Helen; for about the Queen and her words to him it seemed wisest not\nto speak.\n\n\u201cIt will be well to live, Lady, if life by life I find thee for a\nlove.\u201d\n\n\u201cLife by life thou shalt find me, Odysseus, in this shape or in that\nshalt thou find me\u2014for beauty has many forms, and love has many\nnames\u2014but thou shalt ever find me but to lose me again. I tell thee\nthat as but now thou wonnest thy way through the ranks of those who\nwatch me, the cloud lifted from my mind, and I remembered, and I\nforesaw, and I knew why I, the loved of many, might never love in turn.\nI knew then, Odysseus, that I am but the instrument of the Gods, who\nuse me for their ends. And I knew that I loved thee, and thee only, but\nwith a love that began before the birth-bed, and shall not be consumed\nby the funeral flame.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo be it, Lady,\u201d said the Wanderer, \u201cfor this I know, that never have\nI loved woman or Goddess as I love thee, who art henceforth as the\nheart in my breast, that without which I may not live.\u201d\n\n\u201cNow speak on,\u201d she said, \u201cfor such words as these are like music in my\nears.\u201d\n\n\u201cAy, I will speak on. Short shall be our love, thou sayest, Lady, and\nmy own heart tells me that it is born to be brief of days. I know that\nnow I go on my last voyaging, and that death comes upon me from the\nwater, the swiftest death that may be. This then I would dare to ask:\nWhen shall we twain be one? For if the hours of life be short, let us\nlove while we may.\u201d\n\nNow Helen\u2019s golden hair fell before her eyes like the bride\u2019s veil, and\nshe was silent for a time. Then she spoke:\n\n\u201cNot now, and not while I dwell in this holy place may we be wed,\nOdysseus, for so should we call down upon us the hate of Gods and men.\nTell me, then, where thou dwellest in the city, and I will come to\nthee. Nay, it is not meet. Hearken, Odysseus. To-morrow, one hour\nbefore the midnight, see that thou dost stand without the pylon gates\nof this my temple; then I will pass out to thee as well I may, and thou\nshalt know me by the jewel, the Star-stone on my breast that shines\nthrough the darkness, and by that alone, and lead me whither thou wilt.\nFor then thou shalt be my lord, and I will be thy wife. And thereafter,\nas the Gods show us, so will we go. For know, it is in my mind to fly\nthis land of Khem, where month by month the Gods have made the people\ndie for me. So till then, farewell, Odysseus, my love, found after many\ndays.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is well, Lady,\u201d answered the Wanderer. \u201cTo-morrow night I meet thee\nwithout the pylon gates. I also am minded to fly this land of\nwitchcraft and of horror, but I may scarce depart till Pharaoh return\nagain. For he has gone down to battle and left me to guard his palace.\u201d\n\n\u201cOf that we will talk hereafter. Go now! Go swiftly, for here we may\nnot talk more of earthly love,\u201d said the Golden Helen.\n\nThen he took her hand and kissed it and passed from before her glory as\na man amazed.\n\nBut in his foolish wisdom he spoke no word to her of Meriamun the\nQueen.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\nTHE LOOSING OF THE SPIRIT OF REI\n\n\nRei the Priest had fled with what speed he might from the Gates of\nDeath, those gates that guarded the loveliness of Helen and opened only\nupon men doomed to die. The old man was heavy at heart, for he loved\nthe Wanderer. Among the dark children of Khem he had seen none like\nthis Ach\u00e6an, none so goodly, so strong, and so well versed in all arts\nof war. He remembered how this man had saved the life of her he loved\nabove all women\u2014of Meriamun, the moon-child, the fairest queen who had\nsat upon the throne of Egypt, the fairest and the most learned, save\nTaia only. He bethought him of the Wanderer\u2019s beauty as he stood upon\nthe board while the long shafts hailed down the hall. Then he recalled\nthe vision of Meriamun, which she had told him long years ago, and the\nshadow in a golden helm which watched the changed Hataska. The more he\nthought, the more he was perplexed and lost in wonder. What did the\nGods intend? Of one thing he was sure: the leaders of the host of\ndreams had mocked Meriamun. The man of her vision would never be her\nlove: he had gone to meet his doom at the door of the Chapel Perilous.\n\nSo Rei hasted on, stumbling in his speed, till he came to the Palace\nand passed through its halls towards his chamber. At the entrance of\nher own place he met Meriamun the Queen. There she stood in the doorway\nlike a picture in its sculptured frame, nor could any sight be more\nbeautiful than she was, clad in her Royal robes, and crowned with the\ngolden snakes. Her black hair lay soft and deep on her, and her eyes\nlooked strangely forth from beneath the ivory of her brow.\n\nHe bowed low before her and would have passed on, but she stayed him.\n\n\u201cWhither goest thou, Rei?\u201d she asked, \u201cand why is thy face so sad?\u201d\n\n\u201cI go about my business, Queen,\u201d he answered, \u201cand I am sad because no\ntidings come of Pharaoh, nor of how it has fared with him and the host\nof the Apura.\u201d\n\n\u201cPerchance thou speakest truth, and yet not all the truth,\u201d she\nanswered. \u201cEnter, I would have speech with thee.\u201d\n\nSo he entered, and at her command seated himself before her in the very\nseat where the Wanderer had sat. Now, as he sat thus, of a sudden\nMeriamun the Queen slid to her knees before him, and tears were in her\neyes and her breast was shaken with sobs. And while he wondered,\nthinking that she wept at last for her son who was dead among the\nfirstborn, she hid her face in her hands upon his knees, and trembled.\n\n\u201cWhat ails thee, Queen, my fosterling?\u201d he said. But she only took his\nhand, and laid her own in it, and the old priest\u2019s eyes were dim with\ntears. So she sat for awhile, and then she looked up, but still she did\nnot find words. And he caressed the beautiful Imperial head, that no\nman had seen bowed before. \u201cWhat is it, my daughter?\u201d he said, and she\nanswered at last:\n\n\u201cHear me, old friend, who art my only friend\u2014for if I speak not my\nheart will surely burst; or if it break not, my brain will burn and I\nshall be no more a Queen but a living darkness, where vapours creep,\nand wandering lights shine faintly on the ruin of my mind. Mindest thou\nthat hour\u2014it was the night after the hateful night that saw me\nPharaoh\u2019s wife\u2014when I crept to thee and told thee the vision that had\ncome upon my soul, had come to mock me even at Pharaoh\u2019s side?\u201d\n\n\u201cI mind it well,\u201d said Rei; \u201cit was a strange vision, nor might my\nwisdom interpret it.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd mindest thou what I told thee of the man of my vision\u2014the glorious\nman whom I must love, he who was clad in golden armour and wore a\ngolden helm wherein a spear-point of bronze stood fast?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, I mind it,\u201d said Rei.\n\n\u201cAnd how is that man named?\u201d she asked, whispering and staring on him\nwith wide eyes. \u201cIs he not named Eperitus, the Wanderer? And hath he\nnot come hither, the spear-point in his helm? And is not the hand of\nFate upon me, Meriamun? Hearken, Rei, hearken! I love him as it was\nfated I should love. When first I looked on him as he came up the Hall\nof Audience in his glory, I knew him. I knew him for that man who\nshares the curse laid aforetime on him, and on the woman, and on me,\nwhen, in an unknown place, twain became three and were doomed to strive\nfrom life to life and work each other\u2019s woe upon the earth. I knew him,\nRei, though he knew me not, and I say that my soul shook at the echo of\nhis step, and my heart blossomed as the black earth blossoms when after\nflood Sihor seeks his banks again. A glory came upon me, Rei, and I\nlooked back through all the mists of time and knew him for my love, and\nI looked forward into the depths of time to be and knew him for my\nlove. Then I looked on the present hour, and naught could I see but\ndarkness, and naught could I hear but the groans of dying men, and a\nshrill sound as of a woman singing.\u201d\n\n\u201cAn ill tale, Queen,\u201d said Rei.\n\n\u201cAy, an ill tale, Rei, but half untold. Hearken again, I will tell thee\nall. Madness hath entered into me from the Hathor of Atarhechis, the\nQueen of Desire. I am mad with love, even I who never loved. Oh, Rei!\nRei! I would win this man. Nay, look not so sternly on me, it is Fate\nthat drives me on. Last night I spoke to him and discovered to him the\nname he hides from us, his own name, Odysseus, Laertes\u2019 son, Odysseus\nof Ithaca. Ay, thou startest, but so it is. I learned it by my magic,\nand wrung the truth even from the guile of the most crafty of men. But\nit seemed to me that he turned from me, though this much I won from\nhim, that he had journeyed from far to seek me, the Bride that the Gods\nhave promised him.\u201d\n\nThe priest leaped up from his seat. \u201cLady!\u201d he cried, \u201cLady! whom I\nserve and whom I have loved from a child, thy brain is sick, and not\nthy heart. Thou canst not love him. Dost thou not remember that thou\nart Queen of Khem and Pharaoh\u2019s wife? Wilt thou throw thy honour in the\nmire to be trampled by a wandering stranger?\u201d\n\n\u201cAy,\u201d she answered, \u201cI am Queen of Khem and Pharaoh\u2019s wife, but never\nPharaoh\u2019s love. Honour! Why dost thou prate to me of honour? Like Nile\nin flood, my love hath burst the bulwark of my honour, and I mark not\nwhere custom set it. For all around the waters seethe and foam, and on\nthem, like a broken lily, floats the wreck of my lost honour. Talk not\nto me of honour, Rei, teach me rather how I may win my hero to my\narms.\u201d\n\n\u201cThou art mad indeed,\u201d he groaned; \u201cnevertheless\u2014I had forgotten\u2014this\nmust needs end in words and tears. Meriamun, I bring thee tidings. He\nwhom thou desireth is lost to thee for ever\u2014to thee and all the world.\u201d\n\nShe heard, then sprang from the couch and stood over him like a lioness\nover a smitten stag, her fierce and lovely face alive with rage and\nfear.\n\n\u201cIs he dead?\u201d she hissed in his ear. \u201cDead! and I knew it not? Then\nthou hast murdered him, and thus I avenge his murder.\u201d\n\nWith the word she snatched a dagger from her girdle\u2014that same dagger\nwith which she had once struck at Meneptah her brother, when he would\nhave kissed her\u2014and high it flashed above Rei the Priest.\n\n\u201cNay,\u201d she went on, letting the knife fall; \u201cafter another fashion\nshalt thou die\u2014more slowly, Rei, yes, more slowly. Thou knowest the\ntorment of the palm-tree? By that thou shalt die!\u201d She paused, and\nstood above him with quivering limbs, and breast that heaved, and eyes\nthat flashed like stars.\n\n\u201cStay! stay!\u201d he cried. \u201cIt is not I who have slain this Wanderer, if\nhe indeed is dead, but his own folly. For he is gone up to look upon\nthe Strange Hathor, and those who look upon the Hathor do battle with\nthe Unseen Swords, and those who do battle with the Unseen Swords must\nlie in the baths of bronze and seek the Under World.\u201d\n\nThe face of Meriamun grew white at this word, as the alabaster of the\nwalls, and she cried aloud with a great cry. Then she sank upon the\ncouch, pressing her hand to her brow and moaning:\n\n\u201cHow may I save him? How may I save him from that accursed witch? Alas!\nIt is too late\u2014but at least I will know his end, ay, and hear of the\nbeauty of her who slays him. Rei,\u201d she whispered, not in the speech of\nKhem, but in the dead tongue of a dead people, \u201cbe not wrath with me.\nOh, have pity on my weakness. Thou knowest of the Putting-forth of the\nSpirit\u2014is it not so?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am instructed,\u201d he answered, in the same speech; \u201c\u2019twas I who taught\nthee this art, I, and that Ancient Evil which is thine.\u201d\n\n\u201cTrue\u2014it was thou, Rei. Thou hast ever loved me, so thou swearest, and\nmany a deed of dread have we dared together. Lend me thy Spirit, Rei,\nthat I may send it forth to the Temple of the False Hathor, and learn\nwhat passes in the temple, and of the death of him\u2014whom I must love.\u201d\n\n\u201cAn ill deed, Meriamun, and a fearful,\u201d he answered, \u201cfor there shall\nmy Spirit meet them who watch the gates, and who knows what may chance\nwhen the bodiless one that yet hath earthly life meets the bodiless\nones who live no more on earth?\u201d\n\n\u201cYet wilt thou dare it, Rei, for love of me, as being instructed thou\nalone canst do,\u201d she pleaded.\n\n\u201cNever have I refused thee aught, Meriamun, nor will I say thee nay.\nThis only I ask of thee\u2014that if my Spirit comes back no more, thou wilt\nbury me in that tomb which I have made ready by Thebes, and if it may\nbe, by thy strength of magic wring me from the power of the strange\nWardens. I am prepared\u2014thou knowest the spell\u2014say it.\u201d\n\nHe sank back in the carven couch, and looked upwards. Then Meriamun\ndrew near to him, gazed into his eyes and whispered in his ear in that\ndead tongue she knew. And as she whispered the face of Rei grew like\nthe face of one dead. She drew back and spoke aloud:\n\n\u201cArt thou loosed, Spirit of Rei?\u201d\n\nThen the lips of Rei answered her, saying: \u201cI am loosed, Meriamun.\nWhither shall I go?\u201d\n\n\u201cTo the court of the Temple of Hathor, that is before the shrine.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is done, Meriamun.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat seest thou?\u201d\n\n\u201cI see a man clad in golden armour. He stands with buckler raised\nbefore the doorway of the shrine, and before him are the ghosts of\nheroes dead, though he may not see them with the eyes of the flesh.\nFrom within the shrine there comes a sound of singing, and he listens\nto the singing.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat does he hear?\u201d\n\nThen the loosed Spirit of Rei the Priest told Meriamun the Queen all\nthe words of the song that Helen sang. And when she heard and knew that\nit was Argive Helen who sat in the halls of Hathor, the heart of the\nQueen grew faint within her, and her knees trembled. Yet more did she\ntremble when she learned those words that rang like the words she\nherself had heard in her vision long ago\u2014telling of bliss that had\nbeen, of the hate of the Gods, and of the unending Quest.\n\nNow the song ended, and the Wanderer went up against the ghosts, and\nthe Spirit of Rei, speaking with the lips of Rei, told all that befell,\nwhile Meriamun hearkened with open ears\u2014ay, and cried aloud with joy\nwhen the Wanderer forced his path through the invisible swords.\n\nThen once more the sweet voice rang and the loosed Spirit of Rei told\nthe words she sang, and to Meriamun they seemed fateful. Then he told\nher all the talk that passed between the Wanderer and the ghosts.\n\nNow the ghosts being gone she bade the Spirit of Rei follow the\nWanderer up the sanctuary, and from the loosed Spirit she heard how he\nrent the web, and of all the words of Helen and of the craft of him who\nfeigned to be Paris. Then the web was torn and the eyes of the Spirit\nof Rei looked on the beauty of her who was behind it.\n\n\u201cTell me of the face of the False Hathor?\u201d said the Queen.\n\nAnd the Spirit of Rei answered: \u201cHer face is that beauty which gathered\nlike a mask upon the face of dead Hataska, and upon the face of the\nBai, and the face of the Ka, when thou spakest with the spirit of her\nthou hadst slain.\u201d\n\nNow Meriamun groaned aloud, for she knew that doom was on her. Last of\nall, she heard the telling of the loves of Odysseus and of Helen, her\nundying foe, of their kiss, of their betrothal, and of that marriage\nwhich should be on the morrow night. Meriamun the Queen said never a\nword, but when all was done and the Wanderer had left the shrine again,\nshe whispered in the ear of Rei the Priest, and drew back his Spirit to\nhim so that he awoke as a man awakes from sleep.\n\nHe awoke and saw the Queen sitting over against him with a face white\nas the face of the dead, and about her deep eyes were lines of black.\n\n\u201cHast thou heard, Meriamun?\u201d he asked.\n\n\u201cI have heard,\u201d she answered.\n\n\u201cWhat dreadful thing hast thou heard?\u201d he asked again, for he knew\nnaught of that which his Spirit had seen.\n\n\u201cI have heard things that may not be told,\u201d she said, \u201cbut this I will\ntell thee. He of whom we spoke hath passed the ghosts, he hath met with\nthe False Hathor\u2014that accursed woman\u2014and he returns here all unharmed.\nNow go, Rei!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\nTHE WAKING OF THE SLEEPER\n\n\nRei departed, wondering and heavy at heart, and Meriamun the Queen\npassed into her bed-chamber, and there she bade the eunuchs suffer none\nto enter, made fast the doors, and threw herself down upon the bed,\nhiding her face in its woven cushions. Thus she lay for many hours as\none dead\u2014till the darkness of the evening gathered in the chamber. But\nthough she moved not, yet in her heart there burned a fire, now white\nwith heat as the breath of her passion fanned it, and now waning black\nand dull as the tears fell from her eyes. For now she knew all\u2014that the\nlong foreboding, sometimes dreaded, sometimes desired, and again, like\na dream, half forgotten, was indeed being fulfilled. She knew of the\ndevouring love that must eat her life away, knew that even in the grave\nshe should find no rest. And her foe was no longer a face beheld in a\nvision, but a living woman, the fairest and most favoured, Helen of\nTroy, Argive Helen, the False Hathor, the torch that fired great\ncities, the centre of all desire, whose life was the daily doom of men.\n\nMeriamun was beautiful, but her beauty paled before the face of Helen,\nas a fire is slain by the sun. Magic she had also, more than any who\nwere on the earth; but what would her spells avail against the magic of\nthose changing eyes? And it was Helen whom the Wanderer came to seek,\nfor _her_ he had travelled the wide lands and sailed the seas. But when\nhe told her of one whom he desired, one whom he sought, she had deemed\nthat she herself was that one, ay, and had told him all.\n\nAt that thought she laughed out, in the madness of her anger and her\nshame. And he had smiled and spoken of Pharaoh her lord\u2014and the while\nhe spoke he had thought not on her but of the Golden Helen. Now this at\nleast she swore, that if he might not be hers, never should he be\nHelen\u2019s. She would see him dead ere that hour, ay, and herself, and if\nit might be, Helen would she see dead also.\n\nTo what counsel should she turn? On the morrow night these two meet; on\nthe morrow night they would fly together. Then on the morrow must the\nWanderer be slain. How should he be slain and leave no tale of murder?\nBy poison he might die, and Kurri the Sidonian should be charged to\ngive the cup. And then she would slay Kurri, saying that he had\npoisoned the Wanderer because of his hate and the loss of his goods and\nfreedom; and yet how could she slay her love? If once she slew him then\nshe, too, must die and seek her joy in the kingdom that Osiris rules,\nand there she might find little gladness.\n\nWhat, then, should she do? No answer came into her heart. There was one\nthat must answer in her soul.\n\nNow she rose from the bed and stood for awhile staring into the dark.\nThen she groped her way to a place where there was a carven chest of\nolive-wood and ivory, and drawing a key from her girdle she opened the\nchest. Within were jewels, mirrors, and unguents in jars of\nalabaster\u2014ay, and poisons of deadly bane; but she touched none of\nthese. Thrusting her hand deep into the chest, she drew forth a casket\nof dark metal that the people deemed unholy, a casket made of \u201cTyphon\u2019s\nBone,\u201d for so they call grey iron. She pressed a secret spring. It\nopened, and feeling within she found a smaller casket. Lifting it to\nher lips she whispered over it words of no living speech, and in the\nheavy and scented dark a low flame flickered and trembled on her lips,\nas she murmured in the tongue of a dead people. Then slowly the lid\nopened of itself, like a living mouth that opens, and as it opened, a\ngleam of light stole up from the box into the dusk of the chamber.\n\nNow Meriamun looked, and shuddered as she looked. Yet she put her hand\ninto the box, and muttering \u201cCome forth\u2014come forth, thou Ancient Evil,\u201d\ndrew somewhat to her and held it out from her on the palm of her hand.\nBehold, it glowed in the dusk of the chamber as a live ember glows\namong the ashes of the hearth. Red it glowed and green, and white, and\nlivid blue, and its shape, as it lay upon her hand, was the shape of a\ncoiling snake, cut, as it were, in opal and in emerald.\n\nFor awhile she gazed upon it, shuddering, as one in doubt.\n\n\u201cMinded I am to let thee sleep, thou Horror,\u201d she murmured. \u201cTwice have\nI looked on thee, and I would look no more. Nay, I will dare it, thou\ngift of the old wisdom, thou frozen fire, thou sleeping Sin, thou\nliving Death of the ancient city, for thou alone hast wisdom.\u201d\n\nThereon she unclasped the bosom of her robe and laid the gleaming toy,\nthat seemed a snake of stone, upon her ivory breast, though she\ntrembled at its icy touch, for it was more cold than death. With both\nher hands she clasped a pillar of the chamber, and so stood, and she\nwas shaken with throes like the pangs of childbirth. Thus she endured\nawhile till that which was a-cold grew warm, watching its brightness\nthat shone through her silken dress as the flame of a lamp shines\nthrough an alabaster vase. So she stood for an hour, then swiftly put\noff all her robes and ornaments of gold, and loosing the dark masses of\nher hair let it fall round her like a veil. Now she bent her head down\nto her breast, and breathed on that which lay upon her breast, for the\nAncient Evil can live only in the breath of human kind. Thrice she\nbreathed upon it, thrice she whispered, \u201c_Awake! Awake! Awake!_\u201d\n\nAnd the first time that she breathed the Thing stirred and sparkled.\nThe second time that she breathed it undid its shining folds and reared\nits head to hers. The third time that she breathed it slid from her\nbosom to the floor, then coiled itself about her feet and slowly grew\nas grows the magician\u2019s magic tree.\n\nGreater it grew and greater yet, and as it grew it shone like a torch\nin a tomb, and wound itself about the body of Meriamun, wrapping her in\nits fiery folds till it reached her middle. Then it reared its head on\nhigh, and from its eyes there flowed a light like the light of a flame,\nand lo! its face was the face of a fair woman\u2014it was the face of\nMeriamun!\n\nNow face looked on face, and eyes glared into eyes. Still as a white\nstatue of the Gods stood Meriamun the Queen, and all about her form and\nin and out of her dark hair twined the flaming snake.\n\nAt length the Evil spoke\u2014spoke with a human voice, with the voice of\nMeriamun, but in the dead speech of a dead people:\n\n\u201cTell me my name,\u201d it said.\n\n\u201c_Sin_ is thy name,\u201d answered Meriamun the Queen.\n\n\u201cTell me whence I come,\u201d it said again.\n\n\u201cFrom the evil that is in me,\u201d answered Meriamun.\n\n\u201cTell me whither I go.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere I go there thou goest, for I have warmed thee in my breast and\nthou art twined about my heart.\u201d\n\nThen the Snake lifted up its human head and laughed horribly.\n\n\u201cWell art thou instructed,\u201d it said. \u201cSo I love thee as thou lovest\nme,\u201d and it bent itself and kissed her on the lips. \u201cI am that Ancient\nEvil, that Life which endures out of the first death; I am that Death\nwhich abides in the living life. I am that which brought on thee the\nwoe that is in division from the Heart\u2019s Desire, and the name thereof\nis _Hell_. From Life to Life thou hast found me at thy hand, now in\nthis shape, now in that. I taught thee the magic which thou knowest; I\nshowed thee how to win the Throne! Now, what wilt thou of me, Meriamun,\nmy Mother, my Sister, and my Child? From Life to Life I have been with\nthee: ever thou mightest have put me from thee, ever thou fliest to the\nwisdom which I have, and ever from thee I draw my strength, for though\nwithout me thou mightest live, without thee I must die. Say now, what\nis it?\u2014tell me, and I will name my price. No more will I ask than must\nbe, for\u2014ah!\u2014I am glad to wake and live again; glad to grip thy soul\nwithin these shining folds, to be fair with thy beauty!\u2014to be foul with\nthy sin!\u201d\n\n\u201cLay thy lips against my ear and thine ear against my lips,\u201d said\nMeriamun the Queen, \u201cand I will say what it is that I will of thee,\nthou Ancient Evil.\u201d\n\nSo the human-headed Evil laid its ear against the lips of Meriamun, and\nMeriamun laid her lips against its ear, and they whispered each to\neach. There in the darkness they whispered, while the witch-light\nglittered down the grey snake\u2019s shining folds, beamed in its eyes, and\nshone through the Queen\u2019s dark hair and on her snowy breast.\n\nAt length the tale was told, and the Snake lifted its woman\u2019s head high\nin the air and again it laughed.\n\n\u201cHe seeks the Good,\u201d it said, \u201cand he shall find the Ill! He looks for\nLight, and in Darkness shall he wander! To Love he turns, in Lust he\nshall be lost! He would win the Golden Helen, whom he has sought\nthrough many a way, whom he has followed o\u2019er many a sea, but first\nshall he find thee, Meriamun, and through thee Death! For he shall\nswear by the Snake who should have sworn by the Star. Far hath he\nwandered\u2014further shall he wander yet, for thy sin shall be his sin!\nDarkness shall wear the face of Light\u2014Evil shall shine like Good. I\nwill give him to thee, Meriamun, but, hearken to my price. No more must\nI be laid cold in the gloom while thou walkest in the sunshine\u2014nay, I\nmust be twined about thy body. Fear not, fear not, I shall seem but a\njewel in the eyes of men, a girdle fashioned cunningly for the body of\na queen. But with thee henceforth I must ever go\u2014and when thou diest,\nwith thee must I die, and with thee pass where thou dost pass\u2014with thee\nto sleep, with thee to awake again\u2014and so, on and on, till in the end I\nwin or thou winnest, or she wins who is our foe!\u201d\n\n\u201cI give thee thy price,\u201d said Meriamun the Queen.\n\n\u201cSo once before thou didst give it,\u201d answered the Evil; \u201cay, far, far\naway, beneath a golden sky and in another clime. Happy wast thou then\nwith him thou dost desire, but I twined myself about thy heart and of\ntwain came three and all the sorrow that has been. So woman thou hast\nworked, so woman it is ordained. For thou art she in whom all woes are\ngathered, in whom all love is fulfilled. And I have dragged thy glory\ndown, woman, and I have loosed thee from thy gentleness, and set it\nfree upon the earth, and Beauty is she named. By beauty doth _she_ work\nwho is the Golden Helen, and for her beauty\u2019s sake, that all men strive\nto win, are wars and woes, are hopes and prayers, and longings without\nend. But by Evil dost _thou_ work who art divorced from Innocence, and\nevil shalt thou ever bring on him whom thou desireth. A riddle! A\nriddle! Read it who may\u2014read it if thou canst, thou who art named\nMeriamun the Queen, but who art less than Queen and more. Who art thou?\nWho is she they named the Helen? Who is that Wanderer who seeks her\nfrom afar, and who, who am _I_? A riddle! a riddle! that thou mayst not\nread. Yet is the answer written on earth and sky and sea, and in the\nhearts of men.\n\n\u201cNow hearken! To-morrow night thou shalt take me and twine me about thy\nbody, doing as I bid thee, and behold! for a while thy shape shall wear\nthe shape of the Golden Helen, and thy face shall be as her face, and\nthine eyes as her eyes, and thy voice as her voice. Then I leave the\nrest to thee, for as Helen\u2019s self thou shalt beguile the Wanderer, and\nonce, if once only, be a wife to him whom thou desireth. Naught can I\ntell thee of the future, I who am but a counsellor, but hereafter it\nmay be that woes will come, woes and wars and death. But what matter\nthese when thou hast had thy desire, when he hath sinned, and hath\nsworn by the Snake who should have sworn by the Star, and when he is\nbound to thee by ties that may not be loosed? Choose, Meriamun, choose!\nPut my counsel from thee and to-morrow this man thou lovest shall be\nlost to thee, lost in the arms of Helen; and alone for many years shalt\nthou bear the burden of thy lonely love. Take it, and he shall at least\nbe thine, let come what may come. Think on it and choose!\u201d\n\nThus spake the Ancient Evil, tempting her who was named Meriamun, while\nshe hearkened to the tempting.\n\n\u201cI have chosen,\u201d she said; \u201cI will wear the shape of Helen, and be a\nwife to him I love, and then let ruin fall. Sleep, thou Ancient Evil.\nSleep, for no more may I endure thy face of fear that is my face, nor\nthe light of those flaming eyes that are my eyes made mad.\u201d\n\nAgain the Thing reared its human head and laughed out in triumph. Then\nslowly it unloosed its gleaming coils: slowly it slid to the earth and\nshrank and withered like a flaming scroll, till at length it seemed\nonce more but a shining jewel of opal and of amethyst.\n\n\nThe Wanderer, when he left the inner secret shrine, saw no more the\nguardian of the gates, nor heard the clash of the swords unseen, for\nthe Gods had given the beauty of Helen to Odysseus of Ithaca, as it was\nforetold.\n\nWithout the curtains the priests of the temple were gathered\nwondering\u2014little could they understand how it came to pass that the\nhero who was called Eperitus had vanished through the curtains and had\nnot been smitten down by the unseen swords. And when they saw him come\nforth glorious and unharmed they cried aloud with fear.\n\nBut he laughed and said, \u201cFear not. Victory is to him whom the Gods\nappoint. I have done battle with the wardens of the shrine, and passed\nthem, and methinks that they are gone. I have looked upon the Hathor\nalso, and more than that seek ye not to know. Now give me food, for I\nam weary.\u201d\n\nSo they bowed before him, and leading him thence to their chamber of\nbanquets gave him of their best, and watched him while he ate and drank\nand put from him the desire of food.\n\nThen he rose and went from the temple, and again the priests bowed\nbefore him. Moreover, they gave him freedom of the temple, and keys\nwhereby all the doors might be opened, though little, as they thought,\nhad he any need of keys.\n\nNow the Wanderer, walking gladly and light of heart, came to his own\nlodging in the courts of the Palace. At the door of the lodging stood\nRei the Priest, who, when he saw him, ran to him and embraced him, so\nglad was he that the Wanderer had escaped alive.\n\n\u201cLittle did I think to look upon thee again, Eperitus,\u201d he said. \u201cHad\nit not been for that which the Queen\u2014\u2014\u201d and he bethought himself and\nstayed his speech.\n\n\u201cNevertheless, here I am unhurt, of ghost or men,\u201d the Wanderer\nanswered, laughing, as he passed into the lodging. \u201cBut what of the\nQueen?\u201d\n\n\u201cNaught, Eperitus, naught, save that she was grieved when she learned\nthat thou hadst gone up to the Temple of the Hathor, there, as she\nthought, to perish. Hearken, thou Eperitus, I know not if thou art God\nor man, but oaths are binding both on men and Gods, and thou didst\nswear an oath to Pharaoh\u2014is it not so?\u201d\n\n\u201cAy, Rei. I swore an oath that I would guard the Queen well till\nPharaoh came again.\u201d\n\n\u201cArt thou minded to keep that oath, Eperitus?\u201d asked Rei, looking on\nhim strangely. \u201cArt thou minded to guard the fair fame of Pharaoh\u2019s\nQueen, that is more precious than her life? Methinks thou dost\nunderstand my meaning, Eperitus?\u201d\n\n\u201cPerchance I understand,\u201d answered the Wanderer. \u201cKnow, Rei, that I am\nso minded.\u201d\n\nThen Rei spake again, darkly. \u201cMethinks some sickness hath smitten\nMeriamun the Queen, and she craves thee for her physician. Now things\ncome about as they were foreshown in the portent of that vision whereof\nI spoke to thee. But if thou dost break thy oath to him whose salt thou\neatest, then, Eperitus, God or man, thou art a dastard.\u201d\n\n\u201cHave I not said that I have no mind so to break mine oath?\u201d he\nanswered, then sank his head upon his breast and communed with his\ncrafty heart while Rei watched him. Presently he lifted up his head and\nspoke:\n\n\u201cRei,\u201d he said, \u201cI am minded to tell thee a strange story and a true,\nfor this I see, that our will runs one way, and thou canst help me,\nand, in helping me, thyself and Pharaoh to whom I swore an oath, and\nher whose honour thou holdest dear. But this I warn thee, Rei, that if\nthou dost betray me, not thine age, not thy office, nor the friendship\nthou hast shown me, shall save thee.\u201d\n\n\u201cSpeak on, Odysseus, Laertes\u2019 son, Odysseus of Ithaca,\u201d said Rei; \u201cmay\nmy life be forfeit if I betray thy counsel, if it harm not those I\nserve.\u201d\n\nNow the Wanderer started to his feet, crying:\n\n\u201cHow knowest thou that name?\u201d\n\n\u201cI know it,\u201d said Rei, \u201cand I tell thee that I know it, thou most\ncrafty of men, to show this, that with me thy guile will not avail\nthee.\u201d For he would not tell him that he had it from the lips of the\nQueen.\n\n\u201cThou hast heard a name that has been in the mouths of many,\u201d said the\nWanderer; \u201cperchance it is mine, perchance it is the name of another.\nIt matters not. Now know this: I fear this Queen of thine. Hither I\ncame to seek a woman, but the Queen I came not to seek. Yet I have not\ncome in vain, for yonder, Rei, yonder, in the Temple of the Hathor, I\nfound her on whose quest I came, and who awaited me there well guarded\ntill I should come to take her. On the morrow night I go forth to the\ntemple, and there, by the gates of the temple, I shall find her whom\nall men desire, but who loves me alone among men, for so it has been\nfated of the Gods. Thence I bring her hither that here we may be wed.\nNow this is my mind: if thou wilt aid me with a ship and men, that at\nthe first light of dawn we should flee this land of thine, and that\nthou shouldest keep my going secret for awhile till I have gained the\nsea. True it is that I swore to guard the Queen till Pharaoh come\nagain; but as thou knowest, things are so that I can best guard her by\nmy flight, and if Pharaoh thinks ill of me\u2014so it must be. Moreover I\nask thee to meet me by the pylon of the Temple of Hathor to-morrow at\none hour before midnight. There will we talk with her who is called the\nHathor, and prepare our flight, and thence thou shalt go to that ship\nwhich thou hast made ready.\u201d\n\nNow Rei thought for awhile and answered:\n\n\u201cSomewhat I fear to look upon this Goddess, yet I will dare it. Tell\nme, then, how shall I know her at the temple\u2019s gate?\u201d\n\n\u201cThou shalt know her, Rei, by the red star which burns upon her breast.\nBut fear not, for I will be there. Say, wilt thou make the ship ready?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe ship shall be ready, Eperitus, and though I love thee well, I say\nthis, that I would it rode the waves which roll around the shores of\nKhem and thou wert with it, and with thee she who is called the Hathor,\nthat Goddess whom thou desirest.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\nTHE OATH OF THE WANDERER\n\n\nThat night the Wanderer saw not Meriamun, but on the morrow she sent a\nmessenger to him, bidding him to her feast that night. He had little\nheart to go, but a Queen\u2019s courtesy is a command, and he went at\nsundown. Rei also went to the feast, and as he went, meeting the\nWanderer in the ante-chamber, he whispered to him that all things were\nmade ready, that a good ship waited him in the harbour, the very ship\nthat he had captured from the Sidonians, and that he, Rei, would be\nwith him by the pylon gate of the temple one hour before midnight.\n\nPresently, as he whispered, the doors were flung wide and Meriamun the\nQueen passed in, followed by eunuchs and waiting-women. She was royally\narrayed, her face was pale and cold, but her great eyes glowed in it.\nLow the Wanderer bowed before her. She bent her head in answer, then\ngave him her hand, and he led her to the feast. They sat there side by\nside, but the Queen spoke little, and that little of Pharaoh and the\nhost of the Apura, from whom no tidings came.\n\nWhen at length the feast was done, Meriamun bade the Wanderer to her\nprivate chamber, and thither he went for awhile, though sorely against\nhis will. But Rei came not in with them, and thus he was left alone\nwith the Queen, for she dismissed the waiting ladies.\n\nWhen they had gone there was silence for a space, but ever the Wanderer\nfelt the eyes of Meriamun watching him as though they would read his\nheart.\n\n\u201cI am weary,\u201d she said, at length. \u201cTell me of the wanderings, Odysseus\nof Ithaca\u2014nay, tell me of the siege of Ilios and of the sinful Helen,\nwho brought all these woes about. Ay, and tell me how thou didst creep\nfrom the leaguer of the Ach\u00e6ans, and, wrapped in a beggar\u2019s weeds, seek\nspeech of this evil Helen, now justly slain of the angry Gods.\u201d\n\n\u201cJustly slain is she indeed,\u201d answered the crafty Wanderer. \u201cAn ill\nthing is it, truly, that the lives of so many heroes should be lost\nbecause of the beauty of a faithless woman. I had it in my own heart to\nslay her when I spoke with her in Troy town, but the Gods held my\nhand.\u201d\n\n\u201cWas it so, indeed?\u201d said the Queen, smiling darkly. \u201cDoubtless if she\nyet lived, and thou sawest her, thou wouldst slay her. Is it not so,\nOdysseus?\u201d\n\n\u201cShe lives no more, O Queen!\u201d he answered.\n\n\u201cNay, she lives no more, Odysseus. Now tell me; yesterday thou wentest\nup to the Temple of the Hathor; tell me what thou didst see in the\ntemple.\u201d\n\n\u201cI saw a fair woman, or, perchance, an immortal Goddess, stand upon the\npylon brow, and as she stood and sang those who looked were bereft of\nreason. And thereafter some tried to pass the ghosts who guarded the\nwoman, and were slain of invisible swords. It was a strange sight to\nsee.\u201d\n\n\u201cA strange sight, surely. But thou didst not lose thy craft, Odysseus,\nnor try to break through the ghosts?\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, Meriamun. In my youth I looked upon the beauty of Argive Helen,\nwho was fairer than she who stood upon the pylon tower. None who have\nlooked upon the Helen would seek to win the Hathor.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, perchance, those who have looked upon the Hathor may seek to win\nthe Helen,\u201d she answered slowly, and he knew not what to say, for he\nfelt the power of her magic on him.\n\nSo for awhile they spoke, and Meriamun, knowing all, wondered much at\nthe guile of the Wanderer, but she showed no wonder in her face. At\nlength he rose and, bowing before her, said that he must visit the\nguard that watched the Palace gates. She looked upon him strangely and\nbade him go. Then he went, and right glad he was thus to be free of\nher.\n\nBut when the curtains had swung behind him, Meriamun the Queen sprang\nto her feet, and a dreadful light of daring burned in her eyes. She\nclapped her hands, and bade those who came to her seek their rest, as\nshe would also, for she was weary and needed none to wait upon her. So\nthe women went, leaving her alone, and she passed into her sleeping\nchamber.\n\n\u201cNow must the bride deck herself for the bridal,\u201d she said, and\nstraightway, pausing not, drew forth the Ancient Evil from its\nhiding-place and warmed it on her breast, breathing the breath of life\ninto its nostrils. Now, as before, it grew and wound itself about her,\nand whispered in her ear, bidding her clothe herself in bridal white\nand clasp the Evil around her; then think upon the beauty she had seen\ngather on the face of dead Hataska in the Temple of Osiris, and on the\nface of the Bai, and the face of the Ka. She did its command, fearing\nnothing, for her heart was alight with love, and torn with jealous\nhate, and little did she reck of the sorrows which her sin should bring\nforth. So she bathed herself in perfumes, shook out her shining hair,\nand clad herself in white attire. Then she looked upon her beauty in\nthe mirror of silver, and cried in the bitterness of her heart to the\nEvil that lay beside her like a snake asleep.\n\n\u201cAh, am I not fair enow to win him whom I love? Say, thou Evil, must I\nindeed steal the beauty of another to win him whom I love?\u201d\n\n\u201cThis must thou do,\u201d said the Evil, \u201cor lose him in Helen\u2019s arms. For\nthough thou art fair, yet is she Beauty\u2019s self, and her gentleness he\nloves, and not thy pride. Choose, choose swiftly for presently the\nWanderer goes forth to win the Golden Helen.\u201d\n\nThen she doubted no more, but lifting the shining Evil, held it to her.\nWith a dreadful laugh it twined itself about her, and lo! it shrank to\nthe shape of a girdling, double-headed snake of gold, with eyes of ruby\nflame. And as it shrank Meriamun the Queen thought on the beauty she\nhad seen upon the face of the dead Hataska, on the face of the Bai, and\nthe face of the Ka, and all the while she watched her beauty in the\nmirror. And as she watched, behold, her face grew as the face of death,\nashen and hollow, then slowly burned into life again\u2014but all her\nloveliness was changed. Changed were her dark locks to locks of gold,\nchanged were her deep eyes to eyes of blue, changed was the glory of\nher pride to the sweetness of the Helen\u2019s smile. Fairest among women\nhad been her form, now it was fairer yet, and now\u2014now she was Beauty\u2019s\nself, and like to swoon at the dream of her own loveliness.\n\n\u201cSo, ah, so must the Hathor seem,\u201d she said, and lo! her voice rang\nstrangely in her ears. For the voice, too, was changed, it was more\nsoft than the whispering of wind-stirred reeds; it was more sweet than\nthe murmuring of bees at noon.\n\nNow she must go forth, and fearful at her own loveliness and heavy with\nher sin, yet glad with a strange joy, she passes from her chamber and\nglides like a starbeam through the still halls of her Palace. The white\nlight of the moon creeps into them and falls upon the faces of the\ndreadful Gods, on the awful smile of sphinxes, and the pictures of her\nforefathers, kings and queens who long were dead. And as she goes she\nseems to hear them whisper each to each of the dreadful sin that she\nhas sinned, and of the sorrow that shall be. But she does not heed, and\nnever stays her foot. For her heart is alight as with a flame, and she\nwill win the Wanderer to her arms\u2014the Wanderer sought through many\nlives, found after many deaths.\n\nNow the Wanderer is in his chamber, waiting for the hour to set forth\nto find the Golden Helen. His heart is alight, and strange dreams of\nthe past go before his eyes, and strange visions of long love to be.\nHis heart burns like a lamp in the blackness, and by that light he sees\nall the days of his life that have been, and all the wars that he has\nwon, and all the seas that he has sailed. And now he knows that these\nthings are dreams indeed, illusions of the sense, for there is but one\nthing true in the life of men, and that is Love; there is but one thing\nperfect, the beauty which is Love\u2019s robe; there is but one thing which\nall men seek and are born to find at last, the heart of the Golden\nHelen, the World\u2019s Desire, that is peace and joy and rest.\n\nHe binds his armour on him, for foes may lurk in darkness, and takes\nthe Bow of Eurytus, and the grey bolts of death; for perchance the\nfight is not yet done, he must cleave his way to joy. Then he combs his\nlocks and sets the golden helm upon them, and, praying to the Gods who\nhear not, he passes from his chamber.\n\nNow the chamber opened into a great hall of pillars. As was his custom\nwhen he went alone by night, the Wanderer glanced warily down the dusky\nhall, but he might see little because of the shadows. Nevertheless, the\nmoonlight poured into the centre of the hall from the clerestories in\nthe roof, and lay there shining white as water beneath black banks of\nreeds. Again the Wanderer glanced with keen, quick eyes, for there was\na sense in his heart that he was no more alone in the hall, though\nwhether it were man or ghost, or, perchance, one of the immortal Gods\nwho looked on him, he might not tell. Now it seemed to him that he saw\na shape of white moving far away in the shadow. Then he grasped the\nblack bow and laid hand upon his quiver so that the shafts rattled.\n\nNow it would seem that the shape in the shadow heard the rattling of\nthe shafts, or perchance saw the moonlight gleam upon the Wanderer\u2019s\ngolden harness\u2014at the least, it drew near till it came to the edge of\nthe pool of light. There it paused as a bather pauses ere she steps\ninto the fountain. The Wanderer paused also, wondering what the shape\nmight be. Half was he minded to try it with an arrow from the bow, but\nhe held his hand and watched.\n\nAnd as he watched, the white shape glided into the space of moonlight,\nand he saw that it was the form of a woman draped in white, and that\nabout her shone a gleaming girdle, and in the girdle gems which\nsparkled like the eyes of a snake. Tall was the shape and lovely as a\nstatue of Aphrodite; but who or what it was he might not tell, for the\nhead was bent and the face hidden.\n\nAwhile the shape stood thus, and as it stood, the Wanderer passed\ntowards it, marvelling much, till he also stood in the pool of\nmoonlight that shimmered on his golden mail. Then suddenly the shape\nlifted its face so that the light fell full on it, and stretched out\nits arms towards him, and lo! the face was the face of the Argive\nHelen\u2014of her whom he went forth to seek. He looked upon its beauty, he\nlooked upon the eyes of blue, upon the golden hair, upon the shining\narms; then slowly, very slowly, and in silence\u2014for he could find no\nwords\u2014the Wanderer drew near.\n\nShe did not move nor speak. So still she stood that scarce she seemed\nto breathe. Only the shining eyes of her snake-girdle glittered like\nliving things. Again he stopped fearfully, for he held that this was\nsurely a mocking ghost which stood before him, but still she neither\nmoved nor spoke.\n\nThen at length he found his tongue and spoke:\n\n\u201cLady,\u201d he whispered, \u201cis it indeed thou, is it Argive Helen whom I\nlook upon, or is it, perchance, a ghost sent by Queen Persephone from\nthe House of Hades to make a mock of me?\u201d\n\nNow the voice of Helen answered him in sweet tones and low:\n\n\u201cDid I not tell thee, Odysseus of Ithaca, did I not tell thee,\nyesterday in the halls of Hathor, after thou hadst overcome the ghosts,\nthat to-night we should be wed? Wherefore, then, dost thou deem me of\nthe number of the bodiless?\u201d\n\nThe Wanderer hearkened. The voice was the voice of Helen, the eyes were\nthe eyes of Helen, and yet his heart feared guile.\n\n\u201cSo did Argive Helen tell me of a truth, Lady, but this she said, that\nI should find her by the pylon of the temple, and lead her thence to be\nmy bride. Thither I go but now to seek her. But if thou art Helen, how\ncomest thou to these Palace halls? And where, Lady, is that Red Star\nwhich should gleam upon thy breast, that Star which weeps out the blood\nof men?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo more doth the red dew fall from the Star that was set upon my\nbreast, Odysseus, for now that thou hast won me men die no more for my\nbeauty\u2019s sake. Gone is the Star of War; and see, Wisdom rings me round,\nthe symbol of the Deathless Snake that signifies love eternal. Thou\ndost ask how I came hither, I, who am immortal and a daughter of the\nGods? Seek not to know, Odysseus, for where Fate puts it in my mind to\nbe, there do the Gods bear me. Wouldst thou, then, that I leave thee,\nOdysseus?\u201d\n\n\u201cLast of all things do I desire this,\u201d he answered, for now his wisdom\nwent a-wandering; now he forgot the words of Aphrodite, warning him\nthat the Helen might be known by one thing only, the Red Star on her\nbreast, whence falls the blood of men; and he no more doubted but that\nshe was the Golden Helen.\n\nThen she who wore the Helen\u2019s shape stretched out her arms and smiled\nso sweetly that the Wanderer knew nothing any more, save that she drew\nhim to her.\n\nSlowly she glided before him, ever smiling, and where she went he\nfollowed, as men follow beauty in a dream. She led him through halls\nand corridors, past the sculptured statues of the Gods, past man-headed\nsphinxes, and pictures of long-dead kings.\n\nAnd as she goes, once more it seems to her that she hears them whisper\neach to each the horror of her sin and the sorrow that shall be. But\nnaught she heeds who ever leads him on, and naught he hears who ever\nfollows after, till at length, though he knows it not, they stand in\nthe bed-chamber of the Queen, and by Pharaoh\u2019s golden bed.\n\nThen once more she speaks:\n\n\u201cOdysseus of Ithaca, whom I have loved from the beginning, and whom I\nshall love till all deaths are done, before thee stands that Loveliness\nwhich the Gods predestined to thy arms. Now take thou thy Bride; but\nfirst lay thy hand upon this golden Snake, that rings me round, the new\nbridal gift of the Gods, and swear thy marriage oath, which may not be\nbroken. Swear thus, Odysseus: \u2018I love thee, Woman or Immortal, and thee\nalone, and by whatever name thou art called, and in whatever shape thou\ngoest, to thee I will cleave, and to thee alone, till the day of the\npassing of Time. I will forgive thy sins, I will soothe thy sorrows, I\nwill suffer none to come betwixt thee and me. This I swear to thee,\nWoman or Immortal, who dost stand before me. I swear it to thee, Woman,\nfor now and for ever, for here and hereafter, in whatever shape thou\ngoest on the earth, by whatever name thou art known among men.\u2019\n\n\u201cSwear thou thus, Odysseus of Ithaca, Laertes\u2019 son, or leave me and go\nthy ways!\u201d\n\n\u201cGreat is the oath,\u201d quoth the Wanderer; for though now he feared no\nguile, yet his crafty heart liked it ill.\n\n\u201cChoose, and choose swiftly,\u201d she answered. \u201cSwear the oath, or leave\nme and never see me more!\u201d\n\n\u201cLeave thee I will not, and cannot if I would,\u201d he said. \u201cLady, I\nswear!\u201d And he laid his hand upon the Snake that ringed her round, and\nswore the dreadful oath. Yea, he forgot the words of the Goddess, and\nthe words of Helen, and he swore by the Snake who should have sworn by\nthe Star. By the immortal Gods he swore it, by the Symbol of the Snake,\nand by the Beauty of his Bride. And as he swore the eyes of the Serpent\nsparkled, and the eyes of her who wore the beauty of Helen shone, and\nfaintly the black bow of Eurytus thrilled, forboding Death and War.\n\nBut little the Wanderer thought on guile or War or Death, for the kiss\nof her whom he deemed the Golden Helen was on his lips, and he went up\ninto the golden bed of Meriamun.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\nTHE WAKING OF THE WANDERER\n\n\nNow Rei the Priest, as had been appointed, went to the pylon gate of\nthe Temple of Hathor. Awhile he stood looking for the Wanderer, but\nthough the hour had come, the Wanderer came not. Then the Priest went\nto the pylon and stood in the shadow of the gate. As he stood there a\nwicket in the gate opened, and there passed out a veiled figure of a\nwoman upon whose breast burned a red jewel that shone in the night like\na star. The woman waited awhile, looking down the moonlit road between\nthe black rows of sphinxes, but the road lay white and empty, and she\nturned and hid herself in the shadow of the pylon, where Rei could see\nnothing of her except the red star that gleamed upon her breast.\n\nNow a great fear came upon the old man, for he knew that he looked upon\nthe strange and deadly Hathor. Perchance he too would perish like the\nrest who had looked on her to their ruin. He thought of flight, but he\ndid not dare to fly. Then he too stared down the road seeking for the\nWanderer, but no shadow crossed the moonlight. Thus things went for\nawhile, and still the Hathor stood silently in the shadow, and still\nthe blood-red star shone upon her breast. And so it came to pass that\nthe World\u2019s Desire must wait at the tryst like some forsaken village\nmaid.\n\nWhile Rei the Priest crouched thus against the pylon wall, praying for\nthe coming of him who came not, suddenly a voice spoke to him in tones\nsweeter than a lute.\n\n\u201cWho art thou that hidest in the shadow?\u201d said the voice.\n\nHe knew that it was the Hathor who spoke, and so afraid was he that he\ncould not answer.\n\nThen the voice spoke again:\n\n\u201cOh, thou most crafty of men, why doth it please thee to come hither to\nseek me in the guise of an aged priest. Once, Odysseus, I saw thee in\nbeggar\u2019s weeds, and knew thee in the midst of thy foes. Shall I not\nknow thee again in peace beneath thy folded garb and thy robes of\nwhite?\u201d\n\nRei heard and knew that he could hide himself no longer. Therefore he\ncame forward trembling, and knelt before her, saying:\n\n\u201cOh, mighty Queen, I am not that man whom thou didst name, nor am I hid\nin any wrappings of disguise. Nay, I do avow myself to be named Rei the\nChief Architect of Pharaoh, the Commander of the Legion of Amen, the\nchief of the Treasury of Amen, and a man of repute in this land of\nKhem. Now, if indeed thou art the Goddess of this temple, as I judge by\nthat red jewel which burns upon thy breast, I pray thee be merciful to\nthy servant and smite me not in thy wrath, for not by my own will am I\nhere, but by the command of that hero whom thou hast named, and for\nwhose coming I await. Be merciful therefore, and hold thy hand.\u201d\n\n\u201cFear not thou, Rei,\u201d said the sweet voice. \u201cLittle am I minded to harm\nthee, or any man, for though many men have gone down the path of\ndarkness because of me, who am a doom to men, not by my will has it\nbeen, but by the will of the immortal Gods, who use me to their ends.\nRise thou, Rei, and tell me why thou art come hither, and where is he\nwhom I have named?\u201d\n\nThen Rei rose, and looking up saw the light of the Helen\u2019s eyes shining\non him through her veil. But there was no anger in them, they shone\nmildly as stars in an evening sky, and his heart was comforted.\n\n\u201cI know not where the Wanderer is, O thou Immortal,\u201d he said. \u201cThis I\nknow only, that he bade me meet him here at one hour before midnight,\nand so I came.\u201d\n\n\u201cPerchance he too will come anon,\u201d said the sweet voice; \u201cbut why did\nhe, whom thou namest the Wanderer, bid thee meet him here?\u201d\n\n\u201cFor this reason, O Hathor. He told me that this night he should be wed\nto thee, and was minded thereafter to fly from Khem with thee.\nTherefore he bade me come, who am a friend to him, to talk with thee\nand him as to how thy flight should go, and yet he comes not.\u201d\n\nNow as Rei spake, he turned his face upward, and the Golden Helen\nlooked upon it.\n\n\u201cHearken, Rei,\u201d she said; \u201cbut yesterday, after I had stood upon the\npylon tower as the Gods decreed, and sang to those who were ripe to\ndie, I went to my shrine and wove my web while the doomed men fell\nbeneath the swords of them who were set to guard my beauty, but who now\nare gone. And as I wove, one passed the Ghosts and rent the web and\nstood before me. It was he whom I await to-night, and after awhile I\nknew him for Odysseus of Ithaca, Laertes\u2019 son. But as I looked on him\nand spake with him, behold, I saw a spirit watching us, though he might\nnot see it, a spirit whose face I knew not, for no such man have I\nknown in my life days. Know then, Rei, that the face of the spirit was\n_thy_ face, and its robes _thy_ robes.\u201d\n\nThen once more Rei trembled in his fear.\n\n\u201cNow, Rei, I bid thee tell me, and speak the truth, lest evil come on\nthee, not at my hands indeed, for I would harm none, but at the hands\nof those Immortals who are akin to me. What did thy spirit yonder, in\nmy sacred shrine? How didst thou dare to enter and look upon my beauty\nand hearken to my words?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, great Queen,\u201d said Rei, \u201cI will tell thee the truth, and I pray\nthee let not the wrath of the Gods fall upon me. Not of my own will did\nmy spirit enter into thy Holy Place, nor do I know aught of what it saw\ntherein, seeing that no memory of it remains in me. Nay, it was sent of\nher whom I serve, who is the mistress of all magic, and to her it made\nreport, but what it said I know not.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd whom dost thou serve, Rei? And why did she send thy spirit forth\nto spy on me?\u201d\n\n\u201cI serve Meriamun the Queen, and she sent my spirit forth to learn what\nbefell the Wanderer when he went up against the Ghosts.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd yet he said naught to me of this Meriamun. Say, Rei, is she fair?\u201d\n\n\u201cOf all women who live upon the earth she is the very fairest.\u201d\n\n\u201cOf _all_, sayest thou, Rei? Look now, and say if Meriamun, whom thou\ndost serve, is fairer than Argive Helen, whom thou dost name the\nHathor?\u201d and she lifted her veil so that he saw the face that was\nbeneath.\n\nNow when he heard that name, and looked upon the glory of her who is\nBeauty\u2019s self, Rei shrank back till he went nigh to falling on the\nearth.\n\n\u201cNay,\u201d he said, covering his eyes with his hand; \u201cnay thou art fairer\nthan she.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen tell me,\u201d she said, letting fall her veil again, \u201cand for thine\nown sake tell me true, why would Meriamun the Queen, whom thou servest,\nknow the fate of him who came up against the Ghosts?\u201d\n\n\u201cWouldst thou know, Daughter of Amen?\u201d answered Rei; \u201cthen I will tell\nthee, for through thee alone she whom I serve and love can be saved\nfrom shame. Meriamun doth also love the man whom thou wouldst wed.\u201d\n\nNow when the Golden Helen heard these words, she pressed her hand\nagainst her bosom.\n\n\u201cSo I feared,\u201d she said, \u201ceven so. She loves him, and he comes not. Ah!\nif it be so! Now, Rei, I am tempted to pay this Queen of thine in her\nown craft, and send thy spirit forth to spy on her. Nay, that I will\nnot do, for never shall Helen work by shameful guile or magic. Nay\u2014but\nwe will hence, Rei, we will go to the Palace where my rival dwells,\nthere to learn the truth. Fear not, I will bring no ill on thee, nor on\nher whom thou servest. Lead me to the Palace, Rei. Lead me swiftly.\u201d\n\nNow the Wanderer slept in the arms of Meriamun, who wore the shape of\nArgive Helen. His golden harness was piled by the golden bed, and by\nthe bed stood the black bow of Eurytus. The night drew on towards the\ndawning, when of a sudden the Bow awoke and sang, and thus it sang:\n\n\u201cWake! wake! though the arms of thy Love are about thee, yet dearer by\nfar\n    Than her kiss is the sound of the fight;\nAnd more sweet than her voice is the cry of the trumpet, and goodlier\nfar\n    Than her arms is the battle\u2019s delight:\nAnd what eyes are so bright as the sheen of the bronze when the sword\nis aloft,\n    What breast is so fair as the shield?\nOr what garland of roses is dear as the helm, and what sleep is so soft\n    As the sleep of slain men on the field?\u201d\n\n\nLo! the Snake that was twined about the form of her who wore the shape\nof Helen heard the magic song. It awoke, it arose. It twisted itself\nabout the body of the Wanderer and the body of her who wore the shape\nof Helen, knitting them together in the bond of sin. It grew, and\nlifting its woman\u2019s head on high, it sang in answer. And thus it sang\nof doom:\n\n\u201cSleep! be at rest for an hour; as in death men believe they shall\nrest,\n    But they wake! And thou too shalt awake!\nIn the dark of the grave do they stir; but about them, on arms and on\nbreast,\n    Are the toils and the coils of the Snake:\nBy the tree where the first lovers lay, did I watch as I watch where he\nlies,\n    Love laid on the bosom of Lust!\u201d\n\n\nThen the great bow answered the Snake, and it sang:\n\n\u201cOf the tree where the first lovers sinned was I shapen; I bid thee\narise,\n    Thou Slayer that soon shall be dust.\u201d\n\n\nAnd the Snake sang reply:\n\n\u201cBe thou silent, my Daughter of Death, be thou silent nor wake him from\nsleep,\n    With the song and the sound of thy breath.\u201d\n\n\nThe Bow heard the song of the Snake. The Death heard the song of the\nSin, and again its thin music thrilled upon the air. For thus it sang:\n\n\u201cBe thou silent, my Mother of Sin, for this watch it is given me to\nkeep\n    O\u2019er the sleep of the dealer of Death!\u201d\n\n\nThen the Snake sang:\n\n\u201cHush, hush, thou art young, and thou camest to birth when the making\nwas done\n    Of the world: I am older therein!\u201d\n\n\nAnd the Bow answered:\n\n\u201cBut without me thy strength were as weakness, the prize of thy\nstrength were unwon.\n    I am _Death_, and thy Daughter, O Sin!\u201d\n\n\nNow the song of the Snake and the song of the Bow sunk through the\ndepths of sleep till they reached the Wanderer\u2019s ears. He sighed, he\nstretched out his mighty arms, he opened his eyes, and lo! they looked\nupon the eyes that bent above him, eyes of flame that lit the face of a\nwoman\u2014the face of Meriamun that wavered on a serpent\u2019s neck and\nsuddenly was gone. He cried aloud with fear, and sprang from the couch.\nThe faint light of the dawning crept through the casements and fell\nupon the bed. The faint light of the dawning fell upon the golden bed\nof Pharaoh\u2019s Queen, it gleamed upon the golden armour that was piled by\nthe bed, and on the polished surface of the great black bow. It shone\nupon the face of her who lay in the bed.\n\nThen he remembered. Surely he had slept with the Golden Helen, who was\nhis bride, and surely he had dreamed an evil dream, a dream of a snake\nthat wore the face of Pharaoh\u2019s Queen. Yea, there lay the Golden Helen,\nwon at last\u2014the Golden Helen now made a wife to him. Now he mocked his\nown fears, and now he bent to wake her with a kiss. Faintly the\nnew-born light crept and gathered on her face; ah! how beautiful she\nwas in sleep. Nay, what was this? Whose face was this beneath his own?\nNot so had Helen looked in the shrine of her temple, when he tore the\nweb. Not so had Helen seemed yonder in the pillared hall when she stood\nin the moonlit space\u2014not so had she seemed when he sware the great oath\nto love her, and her alone. Whose beauty was it then that now he saw?\nBy the Immortal Gods, it was the beauty of Meriamun; it was the glory\nof the Pharaoh\u2019s Queen!\n\nHe stared upon her lovely sleeping face, while terror shook his soul.\nHow could this be? What then had he done?\n\nThen light broke upon him. He looked around the chamber\u2014there on the\nwalls were the graven images of the Gods of Khem, there above the bed\nthe names of Meneptah and Meriamun were written side by side in the\nsacred signs of Khem. Not with the Golden Helen had he slept, but with\nthe wife of Pharaoh! To her he had sworn the oath, and she had worn the\nHelen\u2019s shape\u2014and now the spell was broken.\n\nHe stood amazed, and as he stood, again the great bow thrilled, warning\nhim of Death to come. Then his strength came back to him, and he seized\nhis armour and girt it about him piece by piece till he lifted the\ngolden helm. It slipped from his hand; with a crash it fell upon the\nmarble floor. With a crash it fell, and she who slept in the bed awoke\nwith a cry, and sprang from the bed, her dark hair streaming down, her\nnight-gear held to her by the golden snake with gemmy eyes that she\nmust ever wear. But he caught his sword in his hand, and threw down the\nivory sheath.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK III\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\nTHE VENGEANCE OF KURRI\n\n\nThe Wanderer and Pharaoh\u2019s Queen stood face to face in the twilight of\nthe chamber. They stood in silence, while bitter anger and burning\nshame poured into his heart and shone from his eyes. But the face of\nMeriamun was cold as the dead, and on it was a smile such as the carven\nsphinxes wear. Only her breast heaved tumultuously as though in\ntriumph, and her limbs quivered like a shaken reed. At length she\nspoke.\n\n\u201cWhy lookest thou so strangely on me, my Lord and Love; and why hast\nthou girded thy harness on thy back? Scarcely doth glorious Ra creep\nfrom the breast of Nout, and wouldest thou leave thy bridal bed,\nOdysseus?\u201d\n\nStill he spoke no word, but looked on her with burning eyes. Then she\nstretched out her arms and came towards him lover-like. And now he\nfound his tongue again.\n\n\u201cGet thee from me!\u201d he said, in a voice low and terrible to hear; \u201cget\nthee from me. Dare not to touch me, thou, who art a harlot and a witch,\nlest I forget my manhood and strike thee dead before me.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat thou canst not do, Odysseus,\u201d she answered soft, \u201cfor whatever\nelse I be I am thy wife, and thou art bound to me for ever. What was\nthe oath which thou didst swear not five short hours ago?\u201d\n\n\u201cI swore an oath indeed, but not to thee, Meriamun. I swore an oath to\nArgive Helen, whom I love, and I wake to find thee sleeping at my side,\nthee whom I hate.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay,\u201d she said, \u201cto me thou didst swear the oath, Odysseus, for thou,\nof men the most guileful, hast at length been over-mastered in guile.\nTo me, \u2018Woman or Immortal,\u2019 thou didst swear \u2018for now and for ever, for\nhere and hereafter, _in whatever shape thou goest on the earth, by\nwhatever name thou art known among men_.\u2019 Oh, be not wroth, my lord,\nbut hearken. What matters the shape in which thou seest me? At the\nleast am I not fair? And what is beauty but a casket that hides the gem\nwithin? \u2019Tis my love which thou hast won, my love that is immortal, and\nnot the flesh that perishes. For I have loved thee, ay, and thou hast\nloved me from of old and in other lives than this, and I tell thee that\nwe shall love again and yet again when thou art no more Odysseus of\nIthaca, and when I am no more Meriamun, a Queen of Khem, but while we\nwalk in other forms upon the world and are named by other names. I am\nthy doom, thou Wanderer, and wherever thou dost wander through the\nfields of Life and Death I shall be at thy side. For I am She of whom\nthou art, and thou art He of whom I am, and though the Gods have\nsevered us, yet must we float together down the river of our lives till\nwe find that sea of which the Spirit knows. Therefore put me not from\nthee and raise not my wrath against thee, for if I used my magic to\nbring thee to my arms, yet they are thy home.\u201d And once more she came\ntowards him.\n\nNow the Wanderer drew an arrow from his quiver, and set the notch\nagainst his breast and the keen barb towards the breast of Meriamun.\n\n\u201cDraw on,\u201d he said. \u201cThus will I take thee to my arms again. Hearken,\nMeriamun the witch\u2014Meriamun the harlot: Pharaoh\u2019s wife and Queen of\nKhem. To thee I swore an oath indeed, and perchance because I suffered\nthy guile to overcome my wisdom, because I swore upon That which\ncircles thee about, and not by the Red Star which gleams upon the\nHelen\u2019s breast, it may be that I shall lose her whom I love. So indeed\nthe Queen of Heaven told me, yonder in sea-girt Ithaca, though to my\nsorrow I forgot her words. But if I lose her or if I win, know this,\nthat I love her and her only, and I hate thee like the gates of hell.\nFor thou hast tricked me with thy magic, thou hast stolen the shape of\nBeauty\u2019s self and dared to wear it, thou hast drawn a dreadful oath\nfrom me, and I have taken thee to wife. And more, thou art the Queen of\nKhem, thou art Pharaoh\u2019s wife, whom I swore to guard; but thou hast\nbrought the last shame upon me, for now I am a man dishonoured, and I\nhave sinned against the hospitable hearth, and the God of guests and\nhosts. And therefore I will do this. I will call together the guard of\nwhich I am chief, and tell them all thy shame, ay, and all my sorrow. I\nwill shout it in the streets, I will publish it from the temple tops,\nand when Pharaoh comes again I will call it into his ear, till he and\nall who live in Khem know thee for what thou art, and see thee in thy\nnaked shame.\u201d\n\nShe hearkened, and her face grew terrible to see. A moment she stood as\nthough in thought, one hand pressed to her brow and one upon her\nbreast. Then she spoke.\n\n\u201cIs that thy last word, Wanderer?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is my last word, Queen,\u201d he answered, and turned to go.\n\nThen with the hand that rested on her breast she rent her night robes\nand tore her perfumed hair. Past him she rushed towards the door, and\nas she ran sent scream on scream echoing up the painted walls.\n\nThe curtains shook, the doors were burst asunder, and through them\npoured guards, eunuchs, and waiting-women.\n\n\u201cHelp,\u201d she cried, pointing to the Wanderer. \u201cHelp, help! oh, save mine\nhonour from this evil man, this foreign thief whom Pharaoh set to guard\nme, and who guards me thus. This coward who dares to creep upon me\u2014the\nQueen of Khem\u2014even as I slept in Pharaoh\u2019s bed!\u201d and she cast herself\nupon the floor and threw her hair about her, and lay there groaning and\nweeping as though in the last agony of shame.\n\nNow when the guards saw how the thing was, a great cry of rage and\nshame went up from them, and they rushed upon the Wanderer like wolves\nupon a stag at bay. But he leapt backwards to the side of the bed, and\neven as he leapt he set the arrow in his hand upon the string of the\ngreat black bow. Then he drew it to his ear. The bow-string sang, the\narrow rushed forth, and he who stood before it got his death. Again the\nbow-string sang, again the arrow rushed, and lo! another man was sped.\nA third time he drew the bow and the soul of a third went down the ways\nof hell. Now they rolled back from him as the waters roll from a rock,\nfor none dares face the shafts of death. They shot at him with spears\nand arrows from behind the shelter of the pillars, but none of these\nmight harm him, for some fell from his mail and some he caught upon his\nbuckler.\n\nNow among those who had run thither at the sound of the cries of\nMeriamun was that same Kurri, the miserable captain of the Sidonians,\nwhose life the Wanderer had spared, and whom he had given to the Queen\nto be her jeweller. And when Kurri saw the Wanderer\u2019s plight, he\nthought in his greedy heart of those treasures that he had lost, and of\nhow he who had been a captain and a rich merchant of Sidon was now\nnothing but a slave.\n\nThen a great desire came upon him to work the Wanderer ill, if so he\nmight. Now all round the edge of the chamber were shadows, for the\nlight was yet faint, and Kurri crept into the shadows, carrying a long\nspear in his hand, and that spear was hafted into the bronze point\nwhich had stood in the Wanderer\u2019s helm. Little did the Wanderer glance\nhis way, for he watched the lances and arrows that flew towards him\nfrom the portal, so the end of it was that the Sidonian passed round\nthe chamber unseen and climbed into the golden bed of Pharaoh on the\nfurther side of the bed. Now the Wanderer stood with his back to the\nbed and a spear\u2019s length from it, and in the silken hangings were fixed\nspears and arrows. Kurri\u2019s first thought was to stab him in the back,\nbut this he did not; first, because he feared lest he should fail to\npierce the golden harness and the Wanderer should turn and slay him;\nand again because he hoped that the Wanderer would be put to death by\ntorment, and he was fain to have a hand in it, for after the fashion of\nthe Sidonians he was skilled in the tormenting of men. Therefore he\nwaited till presently the Wanderer let fall his buckler and drew the\nbow. But ere the arrow reached his ear Kurri had stretched out his\nspear from between the hangings and touched the string with the keen\nbronze, so that it burst asunder and the grey shaft fell upon the\nmarble floor. Then, as the Wanderer cast down the bow and turned with a\ncry to spring on him who had cut the cord, for his eye had caught the\nsheen of the outstretched spear, Kurri lifted the covering of the\npurple web which lay upon the bed and deftly cast it over the hero\u2019s\nhead so that he was inmeshed. Thereon the soldiers and the eunuchs took\nheart, seeing what had been done, and ere ever the Wanderer could clear\nhimself from the covering and draw his sword, they rushed upon him.\nCumbered as he was, they might not easily overcome him, but in the end\nthey bore him down and held him fast, so that he could not stir so much\nas a finger. Then one cried aloud to Meriamun:\n\n\u201cThe Lion is trapped, O Queen! Say, shall we slay him?\u201d\n\nBut Meriamun, who had watched the fray through cover of her hands,\nshuddered and made answer:\n\n\u201cNay, but lock his tongue with a gag, strip his armour from him, and\nbind him with fetters of bronze, and make him fast to the dungeon walls\nwith great chains of bronze. There shall he bide till Pharaoh come\nagain; for against Pharaoh\u2019s honour he hath sinned and shamefully\nbroken that oath he swore to him, and therefore shall Pharaoh make him\ndie in such fashion as seems good to him.\u201d\n\nNow when Kurri heard these words, and saw the Wanderer\u2019s sorry plight,\nhe bent over him and said:\n\n\u201cIt was I, Kurri the Sidonian, who cut the cord of thy great bow,\nEperitus; with the spear-point that thou gavest back to me I cut it, I,\nwhose folk thou didst slay and madest me a slave. And I will crave this\nboon of Pharaoh, that mine shall be the hand to torment thee night and\nday till at last thou diest, cursing the day that thou wast born.\u201d\n\nThe Wanderer looked upon him and answered: \u201cThere thou liest, thou\nSidonian dog, for this is written in thy face, that thou thyself shalt\ndie within an hour and that strangely.\u201d\n\nThen Kurri shrank back scowling. But no more words might Odysseus\nspeak, for at once they forced his jaws apart and gagged him with a gag\nof iron; and thereafter, stripping his harness from him, they bound him\nwith fetters as the Queen had commanded.\n\nNow while they dealt thus with the Wanderer, Meriamun passed into\nanother chamber and swiftly threw robes upon her to hide her disarray,\nclasping them round her with the golden girdle which now she must\nalways wear. But her long hair she left unbound, nor did she wash the\nstain of tears from her face, for she was minded to seem shamed and\nwoe-begone in the eyes of all men till Pharaoh came again.\n\nRei and the Golden Helen passed through the streets of the city till\nthey came to the Palace gates. And here they must wait till the dawn,\nfor Rei, thinking to come thither with the Wanderer, who was Captain of\nthe Guard, had not learned the word of entry.\n\n\u201cEasy would it be for me to win my way through those great gates,\u201d said\nthe Helen to Rei at her side, \u201cbut it is my counsel that we wait\nawhile. Perchance he whom we seek will come forth.\u201d\n\nSo they entered the porch of the Temple of Osiris that looked towards\nthe gates, and there they waited till the dawn gathered in the eastern\nsky. The Helen spoke no word, but Rei, watching her, knew that she was\ntroubled at heart, though he might not see her face because of the veil\nshe wore; for from time to time she sighed and the Red Star rose and\nfell upon her breast.\n\nAt length the first arrow of the dawn fell upon the temple porch and\nshe spoke.\n\n\u201cNow let us enter,\u201d she said; \u201cmy heart forebodes evil indeed; but much\nof evil I have known, and where the Gods drive me there I must go.\u201d\n\nThey came to the gates, and the man who watched them opened to the\npriest Rei and the veiled woman who went with him, though he marvelled\nat the beauty of the woman\u2019s shape.\n\n\u201cWhere are thy fellow-guards?\u201d Rei asked of the soldier.\n\n\u201cI know not,\u201d he answered, \u201cbut anon a great tumult rose in the Palace,\nand the Captain of the Gate went thither, leaving me only to guard the\ngate.\u201d\n\n\u201cHast thou seen the Lord Eperitus?\u201d Rei asked again.\n\n\u201cNay, I have not seen him since supper-time last night, nor has he\nvisited the guard as is his wont.\u201d\n\nRei passed on wondering, and with him went Helen. As they trod the\nPalace they saw folk flying towards the hall of banquets that is near\nthe Queen\u2019s chambers. Some bore arms in their hands and some bore none,\nbut all fled east towards the hall of banquets, whence came a sound of\nshouting. Now they drew near the hall, and there at the further end,\nwhere the doors are that lead to the Queen\u2019s chambers, a great crowd\nwas gathered.\n\n\u201cHide thee, lady\u2014hide thee,\u201d said Rei to her who went with him, \u201cfor\nmethinks that death is afoot here. See, here hangs a curtain, stand\nthou behind it while I learn what this tumult means.\u201d\n\nShe stepped behind the curtain that hung between the pillars as Rei\nbade her, for now Helen\u2019s gentle breast was full of fears, and she was\nas one dazed. Even as she stepped one came flying down the hall who was\nof the servants of Rei the Priest.\n\n\u201cStay thou,\u201d Rei cried to him, \u201cand tell me what happens yonder.\u201d\n\n\u201cIll deeds, Lord,\u201d said the servant. \u201cEperitus the Wanderer, whom\nPharaoh made Captain of his Guard when he went forth to slay the rebel\nApura\u2014Eperitus hath laid hands on the Queen whom he was set to guard.\nBut she fled from him, and her cries awoke the guard, and they fell\nupon him in Pharaoh\u2019s very chamber. Some he slew with shafts from the\ngreat black bow, but Kurri the Sidonian cut the string of the bow, and\nthe Wanderer was borne down by many men. Now they have bound him and\ndrag him to the dungeons, there to await judgment from the lips of\nPharaoh. See, they bring him. I must begone on my errand to the keeper\nof the dungeons.\u201d\n\nThe Golden Helen heard the shameful tale, and such sorrow took her that\nhad she been mortal she had surely died. This then was the man whom she\nhad chosen to love, this was he whom last night she should have wed.\nOnce more the Gods had made a mock of her. So had it ever been, so\nshould it ever be. Loveless she had lived all her life days, now she\nhad learned to love once and for ever\u2014and this was the fruit of it! She\nclasped the curtain lest she should sink to the earth, and hearing a\nsound looked forth. A multitude of men came down the hall. Before them\nwalked ten soldiers bearing a litter on their shoulders. In the litter\nlay a man gagged and fettered with fetters of bronze so that he might\nnot stir, and they bore him as men bear a stag from the chase or a wild\nbull to the sacrifice. It was the Wanderer\u2019s self, the Wanderer\novercome at last, and he seemed so mighty even in his bonds, and his\neyes shone with so fierce a light, that the crowd shrank from him as\nthough in fear. Thus did Helen see her Love and Lord again as they bore\nhim dishonoured to his dungeon cell. She saw, and a moan and a cry\nburst from her heart. A moan for her own woe and a cry for the shame\nand faithlessness of him whom she must love.\n\n\u201cOh, how fallen art thou, Odysseus, who wast of men the very first,\u201d\nshe cried.\n\nHe heard it and knew the voice of her who cried, and he gazed around.\nThe great veins swelled upon his neck and forehead, and he struggled so\nfiercely that he fell from the litter to the ground. But he might not\nrise because of the fetters, nor speak because of the gag, so they\nlifted him again and bore him thence.\n\nAnd after him went all the multitude save Rei alone. For Rei was fallen\nin shame and grief because of the tale that he had heard and of the\ndeed of darkness that the man he loved had done. For not yet did he\nremember and learn to doubt. So he stood hiding his eyes in his hand,\nand as he stood Helen came forth and touched him on the shoulder,\nsaying:\n\n\u201cLead me hence, old man. Lead me back to my temple. My Love is lost\nindeed, but there where I found it I will abide till the Gods make\ntheir will clear to me.\u201d\n\nHe bowed, saying no word, and following Helen stepped into the centre\nof the hall. There he stopped, indeed, for down it came the Queen, her\nhair streaming, all her robes disordered, and her face stained with\ntears. She was alone save for Kurri the Sidonian, who followed her, and\nshe walked wildly as one distraught who knows not where she goes nor\nwhy. Helen saw her also.\n\n\u201cWho is this royal lady that draws near?\u201d she asked of Rei.\n\n\u201cIt is Meriamun the Queen; she whom the Wanderer hath brought to\nshame.\u201d\n\n\u201cStay then, I would speak with her.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, nay,\u201d cried Rei. \u201cShe loves thee not, Lady, and will slay thee.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat cannot be,\u201d Helen answered.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\nTHE COMING OF PHARAOH\n\n\nPresently, as she walked, Meriamun saw Rei the Priest and the veiled\nwoman at his side, and she saw on the woman\u2019s breast a red jewel that\nburnt and glowed like a heart of fire. Then like fire burned the heart\nof Meriamun, for she knew that this was Argive Helen who stood before\nher, Helen whose shape she had stolen like a thief and with the mind of\na thief.\n\n\u201cSay,\u201d she cried to Rei, who bowed before her, \u201csay, who is this\nwoman?\u201d\n\nRei looked at the Queen with terrified eyes, and spake in a voice of\nwarning.\n\n\u201cThis is that Goddess who dwells in the Temple of Hathor,\u201d he said.\n\u201cLet her pass in peace, O Queen.\u201d\n\n\u201cIn peace she shall pass indeed,\u201d answered Meriamun. \u201cWhat saidest\nthou, old dotard? That Goddess! Nay, no Goddess have we here, but an\nevil-working witch, who hath brought woes unnumbered upon Khem. Because\nof her, men die month by month till the vaults of the Temple of Hathor\nare full of her slain. Because of her it was that curse upon curse fell\non the land\u2014the curse of water turned to blood, of hail and of terrible\ndarkness, ay, and the curse of the death of the firstborn among whom my\nown son died. And thou hast dared, Rei, to bring this witch here to my\nPalace halls! By Amen if I had not loved thee always thy life should\npay the price. And thou,\u201d and she stretched her hand towards the Helen,\n\u201cthou hast dared to come. It is well, no more shalt thou bring evil\nupon Khem. Hearken, slave,\u201d and she turned to Kurri the Sidonian; \u201cdraw\nthat knife of thine and plunge it to the hilt in the breast of yonder\nwoman. So shalt thou win freedom and all thy goods shall be given thee\nagain.\u201d\n\nThen for the first time Helen spake:\n\n\u201cI charge thee, Lady,\u201d she said in slow soft tones, \u201cbid not thy\nservant do this deed, for though I have little will to bring evil upon\nmen, yet I may not lightly be affronted.\u201d\n\nNow Kurri hung back doubtfully fingering his dagger.\n\n\u201cDraw, knave, draw!\u201d cried Meriamun, \u201cand do my bidding, or presently\nthou shalt be slain with this same knife.\u201d\n\nWhen the Sidonian heard these words he cried aloud with fear, for he\nwell knew that as the Queen said so it would be done to him. Instantly\nhe drew the great knife and rushed upon the veiled woman. But as he\ncame, Helen lifted her veil so that her eyes fell upon his eyes, and\nthe brightness of their beauty was revealed to him; and when he saw her\nloveliness he stopped suddenly as one who is transfixed of a spear.\nThen madness came upon him, and with a cry he lifted the knife, and\nplunging it, not into her heart, but into his own, fell down dead.\n\nThis then was the miserable end of Kurri the Sidonian, slain by the\nsight of the Beauty.\n\n\u201cThou seest, Lady,\u201d said Helen, turning from the dead Sidonian, \u201cno man\nmay harm me.\u201d\n\nFor a moment the Queen stood astonished, while Rei the Priest muttered\nprayers to the protecting Gods. Then she cried:\n\n\u201cBegone, thou living curse, begone! Wherefore art thou come here to\nwork more woe in this house of woe and death?\u201d\n\n\u201cFear not,\u201d answered the Helen, \u201cpresently I will begone and trouble\nthee no more. Thou askest why I am come hither. I came to see him who\nwas my love, and whom but last night I should have wed, but whom the\nGods have brought to shame unspeakable, Odysseus of Ithaca, Odysseus,\nLaertes\u2019 son. For this cause I came, and I have stayed to look upon the\nface of her whose beauty had power to drive the thought of me from the\nheart of Odysseus, and bring him, who of all men was the greatest hero\nand the foremost left alive, to do a dastard deed and make his mighty\nname a byword and a scorn. Knowest thou, Meriamun, that I find the\nmatter strange, since if all else be false, yet is this true, that\namong women the fairest are the most strong. Thou art fair indeed,\nMeriamun, but judge if thou art more fair than Argive Helen,\u201d and she\ndrew the veil from her face so that the splendour of her beauty shone\nout upon the Queen\u2019s dark loveliness. Thus for awhile they stood each\nfacing each, and to Rei it seemed as though the spirits of Death and\nLife looked one on another, as though the darkness and the daylight\nstood in woman\u2019s shape before him.\n\n\u201cThou art fair indeed,\u201d said the Queen, \u201cbut in this, witch, has thy\nbeauty failed to hold him whom thou wouldst wed from the most shameless\nsin. Little methinks can that man have loved thee who crept upon me\nlike a thief to snatch my honour from me.\u201d\n\nThen Helen bethought her of what Rei had said, that Meriamun loved the\nWanderer, and she spoke again:\n\n\u201cNow it comes into my heart, Egyptian, that true and false are mixed in\nthis tale of thine. Hard it is to believe that Odysseus of Ithaca could\nwork such a coward deed as this, or, unbidden, seek to clasp thee to\nhis heart. Moreover, I read in thine eyes that thou thyself dost love\nthe man whom thou namest dastard. Nay, hold thy peace, look not so\nwildly on me whom thou canst not harm, but hearken. Whether thy tale be\ntrue or false I know not, who use no magic and learn those things only\nthat the Gods reveal to me. But this at the least is true, that\nOdysseus, whom I should have wed, has looked on thee with eyes of love,\neven in that hour when I waited to be made his wife. Therefore the love\nthat but two days agone bloomed in my heart, dies and withers; or if it\ndoes not, at least I cast it from me and tread its flowers beneath my\nfeet. For this doom the Gods have laid upon me, who am of all women the\nmost hapless, to live beloved but loveless through many years, and at\nthe last to love and be betrayed. And now I go hence back to my temple\nshrine; but fear not, Meriamun, not for long shall I trouble thee or\nKhem, and men shall die no more because of my beauty, for I shall\npresently pass hence whither the Gods appoint; and this I say to\nthee\u2014deal gently with that man who has betrayed my faith, for whatever\nhe did was done for the love of thee. It is no mean thing to have won\nthe heart of Odysseus of Ithaca out of the hand of Argive Helen. Fare\nthee well, Meriamun, who wouldst have slain me. May the Gods grant thee\nbetter days and more of joy than is given to Helen, who would look upon\nthy face no more.\u201d\n\nThus she spake, and letting her veil fall turned to go. For awhile the\nQueen stood shamed to silence by these gentle words, that fell like dew\nupon the fires of her hate. But ere Helen had passed the length of a\nspear her fury burned up again. What, should she let this strange woman\ngo\u2014this woman who alone of all that breathed was more beautiful than\nshe, by the aid of whose stolen beauty she alone had won her love, and\nfor whose sake she had endured such bitter words of scorn? Nay, while\nHelen yet lived she could find nor joy nor sleep. But were Helen dead,\nthen perchance all might yet be well, and the Wanderer yet be hers, for\nwhen the best is gone men turn them to the better.\n\n\u201cClose the gates and bar them,\u201d she cried to the men, who now streamed\nback into the hall; and they ran to do her bidding, so that before\nHelen reached the Palace doors, they had been shut and the gates of\nbronze beyond had clashed like the shields of men.\n\nNow Helen drew near the doors.\n\n\u201cStay yon witch,\u201d cried the Queen to those who guarded them, and in\nwonder they poised their spears to bar the way to Helen. But she only\nlifted her veil and looked upon them. Then their arms fell from their\nhands and they stood amazed at the sight of beauty.\n\n\u201cOpen, I beseech you,\u201d said the Helen gently, and straightway they\nopened the doors and she passed through, followed by those who guarded\nthem, by the Queen, and by Rei. But one man there was who did not see\nher beauty, and he strove in vain to hold back the doors and to clasp\nHelen as she passed.\n\nNow she drew near to the gates\u2014\n\n\u201cShoot the witch!\u201d cried Meriamun the Queen; \u201cif she pass the gates, by\nmy royal word I swear that ye shall die every man of you. Shoot her\nwith arrows.\u201d\n\nThen three men drew their bows mightily. The string of the bow of one\nburst, and the bow was shattered, and the arrow of the second slipped\nas he drew it, and passing downwards pierced his foot; and the shaft of\nthe third swerved ere it struck the breast of Helen, and sunk into the\nheart of that soldier who was next to the Queen, so that he fell down\ndead. It was the same man who had striven to hold to the doors and\nclasp the Helen.\n\nThen Helen turned and spoke:\n\n\u201cBid not thy guard to shoot again, Meriamun, lest the arrow find _thy_\nheart, for, know this, no man may harm me;\u201d and once more she lifted\nher veil, and speaking to those at the gates said: \u201cOpen, I beseech\nyou, and let the Hathor pass.\u201d\n\nNow their weapons fell from their hands, and they looked upon her\nbeauty, and they too made haste to open the gates. The great gates\nclanged upon their sockets and rolled back. She passed through them,\nand all who were there followed after her. But when they looked, lo!\nshe had mingled with the people who went to and fro and was gone.\n\nThen Meriamun grew white with rage because Helen whom she hated had\nescaped her, and turning to those men who had opened the doors and\nthose who had given passage of the gates, who yet stood looking on each\nother with dazed eyes, she doomed them to die.\n\nBut Rei, kneeling before her, prayed for their lives:\n\n\u201cIll will come of it, O Queen!\u201d he said, \u201cas ill came to yonder\nSidonian and to the soldier at thy feet, for none may work evil on this\nGoddess, or those who befriended the Goddess. Slay them not, O Queen,\nlest ill tidings follow on the deed!\u201d\n\nThen the Queen turned on him madly:\n\n\u201cHearken thou, Rei!\u201d she said; \u201cspeak thus again, and though I have\nloved thee and thou hast been the chief of the servants of Pharaoh,\nthis I swear, that thou shalt die the first. Already the count is long\nbetween thee and me, for it was thou who didst bring yon accursed witch\nto my Palace. Now thou hast heard, and of this be sure, as I have\nspoken so I will do. Get thee gone\u2014get thee from my sight, I say, lest\nI slay thee now. I take back thy honours, I strip thee of thy offices,\nI gather thy wealth into my treasury. Go forth a beggar, and let me see\nthy face no more!\u201d\n\nThen Rei held his peace and fled, for it were better to stand before a\nlioness robbed of her whelps than before Meriamun in her rage. Thereon\nthe gates were shut again, and the captain of the gates was dragged\nbefore the place where the Queen stood, and asking no mercy and taking\nlittle heed, for still his soul was filled with the beauty of Helen as\na cup with wine, he suffered death, for his head was straightway\nsmitten from him.\n\nRei, watching from afar, groaned aloud, then turned and left the\nPalace, but the Queen called to the soldiers to slay on. Even as she\ncalled there came a cry of woe without the Palace gates. Men looked\neach on each. Again the cry rose and a voice without called, \u201cPharaoh\nis come again! Pharaoh is come again!\u201d and there rose a sound of\nknocking at the gates.\n\nNow for that while Meriamun thought no more of slaying the men, but\nbade them open the gates. They opened, and a man entered clad in\nraiment stained with travel. His eyes were wild, his hair was\ndishevelled, and scarce could his face be known for the face of Pharaoh\nMeneptah, it was so marred with grief and fear.\n\nPharaoh looked on the Queen\u2014he looked upon the dead who lay at her\nfeet, then laughed aloud:\n\n\u201cWhat!\u201d he cried, \u201cmore dead! Is there then no end to Death and the\nnumber of his slain? Nay, here he doth work but feebly. Perchance his\narm grows weary. Come, where are _thy_ dead, Queen? Bring forth thy\ndead!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat hath chanced, Meneptah, that thou speakest thus madly?\u201d asked the\nQueen. \u201cShe whom they name the Hathor hath passed here, and these, and\nanother who lies yonder, do but mark her path. Speak!\u201d\n\n\u201cAy, I will speak, Queen. I have a merry tale to tell. Thou sayest that\nthe Hathor hath passed here and these mark her footsteps. Well, I can\ncap thy story. He whom the Apura name Jahveh hath passed yonder by the\nSea of Weeds, and there lie many, lie to mark His footsteps.\u201d\n\n\u201cThy host! Where is thy host?\u201d cried the Queen. \u201cAt the least some are\nleft.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, Queen, _all_ are left\u2014all\u2014all\u2014save myself alone. They drift to\nand fro in the Sea of Weeds\u2014they lie by tens of thousands on its banks;\nthe gulls tear their eyes, the lion of the desert rends their flesh;\nthey lie unburied, their breath sighs in the sea gales, their blood\nsinks into the salt sands, and Osiris numbers them in the hosts of\nhell. Hearken! I came upon the tribes of the Apura by the banks of the\nSea of Weeds. I came at eve, but I might not fall upon them because of\na veil of darkness that spread between my armies and the hosts of the\nApura. All night long through the veil of darkness, and through the\nshrieking of a great gale, I heard a sound as of the passing of a\nmighty people\u2014the clangour of their arms, the voices of captains, the\nstamp of beasts, and the grinding of wheels. The morning came, and lo!\nbefore me the waters of the sea were built up as a wall on the right\nhand and the left, and between the walls of water was dry land, and the\nApura passed between the walls. Then I cried to my captains to arise\nand follow swiftly, and they did my bidding. But the chariot wheels\ndrew heavily in the sand, so that before all my host had entered\nbetween the waters, the Apura had passed the sea. Then of a sudden, as\nlast of all I passed down into the path of the ocean bed, the great\nwind ceased, and as it ceased, lo! the walls of water that were on\neither side of the sea path fell together with noise like the noise of\nthunder. I turned my chariot wheels, and fled back, but my soldiers, my\nchariots, and my horses were swallowed; once more they were seen again\non the crest of the black waves like a gleam of light upon a cloud,\nonce a great cry arose to the heaven; then all was done and all was\nstill, and of my hosts I alone was left alive of men.\u201d\n\nSo Pharaoh spoke, and a great groan rose from those who hearkened. Only\nMeriamun spoke:\n\n\u201cSo shall things go with us while that False Hathor dwells in Khem.\u201d\n\nNow as she spoke thus, again there came a sound of knocking at the\ngates and a cry of \u201cOpen\u2014a messenger! a messenger!\u201d\n\n\u201cOpen!\u201d said Meriamun, \u201cthough his tidings be ill, scarce can they\nmatch these that have been told.\u201d\n\nThe gates were opened, and one came through them. His eyes stared wide\nin fear, so dry was his throat with haste and with the sand, that he\nstood speechless before them all.\n\n\u201cGive him wine,\u201d cried Meriamun, and wine was brought. Then he drank,\nand he fell upon his knees before the Queen, for he knew not Pharaoh.\n\n\u201cThy tidings!\u201d she cried. \u201cBe swift with thy tidings.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet the Queen pardon me,\u201d he said. \u201cLet her not be wrath. These are my\ntidings. A mighty host marches towards the city of On, a host gathered\nfrom all lands of the peoples of the North, from the lands of the\nTulisha, of the Shakalishu, of the Liku, and of the Shairdana. They\nmarch swiftly and raven, they lay the country waste, naught is left\nbehind them save the smoke of burning towns, the flight of vultures,\nand the corpses of men.\u201d\n\n\u201cHast done?\u201d said Meriamun.\n\n\u201cNay, O Queen! A great fleet sails with them up the eastern mouth of\nSihor, and in it are twelve thousand chosen warriors of the Aquaiusha,\nthe sons of those men who sacked Troy town.\u201d\n\nAnd now a great groan went up to heaven from the lips of those who\nhearkened. Only Meriamun spoke thus:\n\n\u201cAnd yet the Apura are gone, for whose sake, ye say, came the plagues.\nThey are fled, but the curse remains, and so shall things ever be with\nus while yon False Hathor dwells in Khem.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\nTHE BED OF TORMENT\n\n\nIt was nightfall, and Pharaoh sat at meat and Meriamun sat by him. The\nheart of Pharaoh was very heavy. He thought of that great army which\nnow washed to and fro on the waters of the Sea of Weeds, of whose\nnumber he alone had lived to tell the tale. He thought also of the host\nof the Apura, who made a mock of him in the desert. But most of all he\nbrooded on the tidings that the messenger had brought, tidings of the\nmarch of the barbarians and of the fleet of the Aquaiusha that sailed\non the eastern stream of Sihor. All that day he had sat in his council\nchamber, and sent forth messengers east and north and south, bidding\nthem gather the mercenaries from every town and in every city, men to\nmake war against the foe, for here, in his white-walled city of Tanis,\nthere were left but five thousand soldiers. And now, wearied with toil\nand war, he sat at meat, and as he sat bethought him of the man whom he\nhad left to guard the Queen.\n\n\u201cWhere, then, is that great Wanderer, he who wore the golden harness?\u201d\nhe asked presently.\n\n\u201cI have a tale to tell thee of the man,\u201d Meriamun answered slowly, \u201ca\ntale which I have not told because of all the evil tidings that beat\nabout our ears like sand in a desert wind.\u201d\n\n\u201cTell on,\u201d said Pharaoh.\n\nThen she bent towards him, whispering in his ear.\n\nAs she whispered, the face of Pharaoh grew black as the night, and ere\nall the tale was done he sprang to his feet.\n\n\u201cBy Amen and by Ptah!\u201d he cried, \u201chere at least we have a foe whom we\nmay conquer. Thou and I, Meriamun, my sister and my queen, are set as\nfar each from each as the sky is set from the temple top, and little of\nlove is there between us. Yet I will wipe away this blot upon thy\nhonour, which also is a blot upon my own. Sleepless shall this Wanderer\nlie to-night, and sorry shall he go to-morrow, but to-morrow night he\nshall sleep indeed.\u201d\n\nThereupon he clapped his hands, summoning the guard, and bade them pass\nto the dungeon where the Wanderer lay, and lead him thence to the place\nof punishment. He bade them also call the tormentors to make ready the\ninstruments of their craft, and await him in the place of punishment.\n\nThen he sat for awhile, drinking sullenly, till one came to tell him\nthat all was prepared. Then Pharaoh rose.\n\n\u201cComest thou with me?\u201d he asked.\n\n\u201cNay,\u201d said Meriamun, \u201cI would not look upon the man again; and this I\ncharge thee. Go not down to him this night. Let him be found upon the\nbed of torment, and let the tormentors give him food and wine, for so\nhe shall die more hardly. Then let them light the fires at his head and\nat his feet and leave him till the dawn alone in the place of torment.\nSo he shall die a hundred deaths ere ever his death begins.\u201d\n\n\u201cAs thou wilt,\u201d answered Pharaoh. \u201cMete out thine own punishment.\nTo-morrow when I have slept I will look upon his torment.\u201d And he spoke\nto his servants as she desired.\n\nThe Wanderer lay on the bed of torment in the place of torment. They\nhad taken the gag from his mouth, and given him food and wine as\nPharaoh commanded. He ate and drank and his strength came back to him.\nThen they made fast his fetters, lit the braziers at his head and foot,\nand left him with mocking words.\n\nHe lay upon the bed of stone and groaned in the bitterness of his\nheart. Here then was the end of his wanderings, and this was the breast\nof the Golden Helen in whose arms Aphrodite had sworn that he should\nlie. Oh, that he were free again and stood face to face with his foes,\nhis harness on his back! Nay, it might not be, no mortal strength could\nburst these fetters, not even the strength of Odysseus, Laertes\u2019 son.\nWhere now were those Gods whom he had served? Should he never again\nhear the clarion cry of Pallas? Why then had he turned him from Pallas\nand worshipped at the shrine of the false Idalian Queen? Thus it was\nthat she kept her oaths; thus she repaid her votary.\n\nSo he thought in the bitterness of his heart as he lay with closed eyes\nupon the bed of torment whence there was no escape, and groaned:\n\u201cWould, Aphrodite, that I had never served thee, even for one little\nhour, then had my lot gone otherwise.\u201d\n\nNow he opened his eyes, and lo! a great glory rolled about the place of\ntorment, and as he wondered at the glory, a voice spoke from its\nmidst\u2014the voice of the Idalian Aphrodite:\n\n\u201cBlame me not, Odysseus,\u201d said the heavenly voice; \u201cblame me not\nbecause thou art come to this pass. Thyself, son of Laertes, art to\nblame. What did I tell thee? Was it not that thou shouldst know the\nGolden Helen by the Red Star on her breast, the jewel whence fall the\nred drops fast, and by the Star alone? And did she not tell thee, also,\nthat thou shouldst know her by the Star? Yet when one came to thee\nwearing no Star but girdled with a Snake, my words were all forgotten,\nthy desires led thee whither thou wouldst not go. Thou wast blinded by\ndesire and couldst not discern the False from the True. Beauty has many\nshapes, now it is that of Helen, now that of Meriamun, each sees it as\nhe desires it. But the Star is yet the Star, and the Snake is yet the\nSnake, and he who, bewildered of his lusts, swears by the Snake when he\nshould have sworn by the Star, shall have the Snake for guerdon.\u201d\n\nShe ceased, and the Wanderer spoke, groaning bitterly:\n\n\u201cI have sinned, O Queen!\u201d he said. \u201cIs there then no forgiveness for my\nsin?\u201d\n\n\u201cYea, there is forgiveness, Odysseus, but first there is punishment.\nThis is thy fate. Never now, in this space of life, shalt thou be the\nlord of the Golden Helen. For thou hast sworn by the Snake, and his\nthou art, nor mayest thou reach the Star. Yet it still shines on.\nThrough the mists of death it shall shine for thee, and when thou\nwakest again, behold, thine eyes shall see it fitfully.\n\n\u201cAnd now, this for thy comfort. Here thou shalt not die, nor by\ntorment, for thy death shall come to thee from the water as the dead\nseer foretold, but ere thou diest, once more thou shalt look upon the\nGolden Helen, and hear her words of love and know her kiss, though\nthine she shall not be. And learn that a great host marches upon the\nland of Khem, and with it sails a fleet of thine own people, the\nAch\u00e6ans. Go down and meet them and take what comes, where the swords\nshine that smote Troy. And this fate is laid upon thee, that thou shalt\ndo battle against thy own people, even against the sons of them by\nwhose side thou didst fight beneath the walls of Ilios, and in that\nbattle thou shalt find thy death, and in thy death, thou Wanderer, thou\nshalt find that which all men seek, the breast of the immortal Helen.\nFor though here on earth she seems to live eternally, it is but the\nshadow of her beauty that men see\u2014each as he desires it. In the halls\nof Death she dwells, and in the garden of Queen Persephone, and there\nshe shall be won, for there no more is beauty guarded of Those that\nstand between men and joy, and there no more shall the Snake seem as\nthe Star, and Sin have power to sever those that are one. Now make thy\nheart strong, Odysseus, and so do as thy wisdom tells thee. Farewell!\u201d\n\nThus the Goddess spoke from the cloud of glory, and lo! she was gone.\nBut the heart of the Wanderer was filled with joy because he knew that\nthe Helen was not lost to him for ever, and he no more feared the death\nof shame.\n\n\nNow it was midnight, and Pharaoh slept. But Meriamun the Queen slept\nnot. She rose from her bed, she wrapped herself in a dark cloak that\nhid her face, and taking a lamp in her hand, glided through the empty\nhalls till she came to a secret stair down which she passed. There was\na gate at the foot of the stair, and a guard slept by it. She pushed\nhim with her foot.\n\nHe awoke and sprang towards her, but she held a signet before his eyes,\nan old ring of great Queen Taia, whereon a Hathor worshipped the sun.\nThen he bowed and opened the gate. She swept on through many passages,\ndeep into the bowels of the earth, till she came to the door of a\nlittle chamber where a light shone. Men talked in the chamber, and she\nlistened to their talk. They spoke much and laughed gleefully. Then she\nentered the doorway and looked upon them. They were six in number,\nevil-eyed men of Ethiopia, and seated in a circle. In the centre of the\ncircle lay the waxen image of a man, and they were cutting it with\nknives and searing it with needles of iron and pincers made red-hot,\nand many instruments strange and dreadful to look upon. For these were\nthe tormentors, and they spoke of those pains that to-morrow they\nshould wreak upon the Wanderer, and practised them.\n\nBut Meriamun, who loved him, shivered as she looked, and muttered thus\nbeneath her breath:\n\n\u201cThis I promise you, black ministers of death, that in the same fashion\nye shall die ere another night be sped.\u201d\n\nThen she passed into the chamber, holding the signet on high, and the\ntormentors fell upon their faces before her majesty. She passed between\nthem, and as she went she stamped with her sandalled foot upon the\nwaxen image and brake it. On the further side of the chamber was\nanother passage, and this she followed till she reached a door of stone\nthat stood ajar. Here she paused awhile, for from within the chamber\nthere came a sound of singing, and the voice was the Wanderer\u2019s voice,\nand thus he sang:\n\n\u201cEndure, my heart: not long shalt thou endure\n    The shame, the smart;\nThe good and ill are done; the end is sure;\n    Endure, my heart!\nThere stand two vessels by the golden throne\n    Of Zeus on high,\nFrom these he scatters mirth and scatters moan,\n    To men that die.\nAnd thou of many joys hast had thy share,\n    Thy perfect part;\nBattle and love, and evil things and fair;\n    Endure, my heart!\nFight one last greatest battle under shield,\n    Wage that war well:\nThen seek thy fellows in the shadowy field\n    Of asphodel,\nThere is the knightly Hector; there the men\n    Who fought for Troy;\nShall we not fight our battles o\u2019er again?\n    Were that not joy?\nThough no sun shines beyond the dusky west,\n    Thy perfect part\nThere shalt thou have of the unbroken rest;\n    Endure, my heart!\u201d\n\n\nMeriamun heard and wondered at this man\u2019s hardihood, and the greatness\nof his heart who could sing thus as he lay upon the bed of torment. Now\nshe pushed the door open silently and passed in. The place where she\nstood was dreadful. It was shaped as a lofty vault, and all the walls\nwere painted with the torments of those who pass down to Set after\nliving wickedly on earth. In the walls were great rings of bronze, and\nchains and fetters of bronze, wherein the bones of men yet hung. In the\ncentre of the vault there was a bed of stone on which the Wanderer was\nfastened with fetters. He was naked, save only for a waistcloth, and at\nhis head and feet burned polished braziers that gave light to the\nvault, and shone upon the instruments of torment. Beyond the further\nbraziers grinned the gate of Sekhet, that is shaped like a woman, and\nthe chains wherein the victim is set for the last torment by fire, were\nhanging from the roof.\n\nMeriamun passed stealthily behind the head of the Wanderer, who might\nnot see her because of the straitness of his bonds. Yet it seemed to\nher that he heard somewhat, for he ceased from singing and turned his\near to hearken. She stood awhile in silence looking on him she loved,\nwho of all living men was the goodliest by far. Then at length he spoke\ncraftily:\n\n\u201cWho art thou?\u201d he said. \u201cIf thou art of the number of the tormentors,\nbegin thy work. I fear thee not, and no groan shall thy worst torture\nwring from these lips of mine. But I tell thee this, that ere I be\nthree days dead, the Gods shall avenge me terribly, both on thee and\nthose who sent thee. With fire and with sword they shall avenge me, for\na great host gathers and draws nigh, a host of many nations gathered\nout of all lands, ay, and a fleet manned with the sons of my own\npeople, of the Ach\u00e6ans terrible in war. They rush on like ravening\nwolves, and the land is black before them, but the land shall be\nstamped red behind their feet. Soon they shall give this city to the\nflames, the smoke of it shall go up to heaven, and the fires shall be\nquenched at last in the blood of its children\u2014ay, in thy blood, thou\nwho dost look on me.\u201d\n\nHearing these words Meriamun bent forward to look on the face of the\nspeaker and to see what was written there; and as she moved, her cloak\nslipped apart, showing the Snake\u2019s head with the eyes of flame that was\nset about her as a girdle. Fiercely they gleamed, and the semblance of\nthem was shown faintly on the polished surface of the brazier wherein\nthe fire burned at the Wanderer\u2019s feet. He saw it, and now he knew who\nstood behind him.\n\n\u201cSay, Meriamun the Queen\u2014Pharaoh\u2019s dishonoured wife,\u201d he said, \u201csay,\nwherefore art thou come to look upon thy work? Nay, stand not behind\nme, stand where I may see thee. Fear not, I am strongly bound, nor may\nI lift a hand against thee.\u201d\n\nThen Meriamun, still speaking no word, but wondering much because he\nknew her ere his eyes fell upon her, passed round the bed of torment,\nand throwing down her cloak stood before him in her dark and royal\nloveliness.\n\nHe looked upon her beauty, then spoke again:\n\n\u201cSay, wherefore art thou come hither, Meriamun? Surely, with my ears I\nheard thee swear that I had wronged thee. Wouldst thou then look on him\nwho wronged thee, or art thou come, perchance, to watch my torments,\nwhile thy slaves tear limb from limb, and quench yon fires with my\nblood? Oh, thou evil woman, thou hast worked woe on me indeed, and\nperchance canst work more woe now that I lie helpless here. But this I\ntell thee, that thy torments shall outnumber mine as the stars\noutnumber the earth. For here, and hereafter, thou shalt be parched\nwith such a thirst of love as never may be quenched, and in many\nanother land, and in many another time, thou shalt endure thine agony\nafresh. Again, and yet again, thou shalt clasp and conquer; again, and\nyet again, thou shalt let slip, and in the moment of triumph lose. By\nthe Snake\u2019s head I swore my troth to thee, I, who should have sworn by\nthe Star; and this I tell thee, Meriamun, that as the Star shall shine\nand be my beacon through the ages, so through the ages shall the Snake\nencircle thee and be thy doom!\u201d\n\n\u201cHold!\u201d said Meriamun, \u201cpour no more bitter words upon me, who am\ndistraught of love, and was maddened by thy scorn. Wouldst thou know\nthen why I am come hither? For this cause I am come, to save thee from\nthy doom. Hearken, the time is short. It is true\u2014though how thou\nknowest it I may not guess\u2014it is true that the barbarians march on\nKhem, and with them sails a fleet laden with the warriors of thine own\npeople. This also is true, Pharaoh has returned alone: and all his host\nis swallowed in the Sea of Weeds. And I, foolish that I am, I would\nsave thee, Odysseus, thus: I will put it in the heart of Pharaoh to\npardon thy great offence, and send thee forward against the foe; yes, I\ncan do it. But this thou shalt swear to me, to be true to Pharaoh, and\nsmite the barbarian host.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat I will swear,\u201d said the Wanderer, \u201cay, and keep the oath, though\nit is hard to do battle on my kin. Is that all thy message, Meriamun?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot all, Odysseus. One more thing must thou swear, or if thou swearest\nit not, here thou shalt surely die. Know this, she who in Khem is named\nthe Hathor, but who perchance has other names, hath put thee from her\nbecause last night thou wast wed to me.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt may well be so,\u201d said the Wanderer.\n\n\u201cShe hath put thee from her, and thou\u2014thou art bound to me by that\nwhich cannot be undone, and by an oath that may not be broken; in\nwhatever shape I walk, or by whatever name I am known among men, still\nthou art bound to me, as I am bound to thee. This then thou shalt\nswear, that thou wilt tell naught of last night\u2019s tale to Pharaoh.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat I swear,\u201d said the Wanderer.\n\n\u201cAlso that if Pharaoh be gathered to Osiris, and it should chance that\nshe who is named the Hathor pass with him to the Underworld, then that\nthou, Odysseus, wilt wed me, Meriamun, and be faithful to me for thy\nlife days.\u201d\n\nNow the crafty Odysseus took counsel with his heart, and bethought him\nof the words of the Goddess. He saw that it was in the mind of Meriamun\nto slay Pharaoh and the Helen. But he cared nothing for the fate of\nPharaoh, and knew well that Helen might not be harmed, and that though\nshe change eternally, wearing now this shape, and now that, yet she\ndies only when the race of men is dead\u2014then to be gathered to the\nnumber of the Gods. This he knew also, that now he must go forth on his\nlast wandering, for Death should come upon him from the water.\nTherefore he answered readily:\n\n\u201cThat oath I swear also, Meriamun, and if I break it may I perish in\nshame and for ever.\u201d\n\nNow Meriamun heard, and knelt beside him, looking upon him with eyes of\nlove.\n\n\u201cIt is well, Odysseus: perchance ere long I shall claim thy oath. Oh,\nthink not so ill of me: if I have sinned, I have sinned from love of\nthee. Long years ago, Odysseus, thy shadow fell upon my heart and I\nclasped its emptiness. Now thou art come, and I, who pursued a shadow\nfrom sleep to sleep and dream to dream, saw thee a living man, and\nloved thee to my ruin. Then I tamed my pride and came to win thee to my\nheart, and the Gods set another shape upon me\u2014so thou sayest\u2014and in\nthat shape, the shape of her thou seekest, thou didst make me wife to\nthee. Perchance she and I are _one_, Odysseus. At the least, not so\nreadily had _I_ forsaken thee. Oh, when thou didst stand in thy might\nholding those dogs at bay till the Sidonian knave cut thy bowstring\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat of him? Tell me, what of Kurri? This would I ask thee, Queen,\nthat he be laid where I lie, and die the death to which I am doomed.\u201d\n\n\u201cGladly would I give thee the boon,\u201d she answered, \u201cbut thou askest too\nlate. The False Hathor looked upon him, and he slew himself. Now I will\naway\u2014the night wanes and Pharaoh must dream dreams ere dawn. Fare thee\nwell, Odysseus. Thy bed is hard to-night, but soft is the couch of\nkings that waits thee,\u201d and she went forth from him.\n\n\u201cAy, Meriamun,\u201d said the Wanderer, looking after her. \u201cHard is my bed\nto-night, and soft is the couch of the kings of Men that waits me in\nthe realms of Queen Persephone. But it is not thou who shalt share it.\nHard is my bed to-night, harder shall thine be through all the nights\nof death that are to come when the Erinnyes work their will on folk\nforsworn.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\nPHARAOH\u2019S DREAM\n\n\nPharaoh slept heavily in his place, for he was wearied with grief and\ntoil. But Meriamun passed into the chamber, and standing at the foot of\nthe golden bed, lifted up her hands and by her art called visions down\non Pharaoh, false dreams through the Ivory Gate. So Pharaoh dreamed,\nand thus his vision went:\u2014\n\nHe dreamed that he slept in his bed, and that the statue of Ptah, the\nCreator, descended from the pedestal by the temple gate and came to\nhim, towering over him like a giant. Then he dreamed that he awoke, and\nprostrating himself before the God, asked the meaning of his coming.\nThereon the God spoke to him:\u2014\n\n\u201cMeneptah, my son, whom I love, hearken unto me. The Nine-bow\nbarbarians overrun the ancient land of Khem; nine nations march up\nagainst Khem and lay it waste. Hearken unto me, my son, and I will give\nthee victory. Awake, awake from sloth, and I will give thee victory.\nThou shalt hew down the Nine-bow barbarians as a countryman hews a\nrotting palm; they shall fall, and thou shalt spoil them. But hearken\nunto me, my son, thou shalt not thyself go up against them. Low in thy\ndungeon there lies a mighty chief, skilled in the warfare of the\nbarbarians, a Wanderer who hath wandered far. Thou shalt release him\nfrom his bonds and set him over thy armies, and of the sin that he has\nsinned thou shalt take no heed. Awake, awake, Meneptah; with this bow\nwhich I give thee shalt thou smite the Nine-bow barbarians.\u201d\n\nThen Meriamun laid the bow of the Wanderer, even the black bow of\nEurytus, on the bed beside Pharaoh, and passed thence to her own\nchamber, and the deceitful dream too passed away.\n\nEarly in the morning, a waiting-woman came to the Queen saying that\nPharaoh would speak with her. She went into the ante-chamber and found\nhim there, and in his hand was the black bow of Eurytus.\n\n\u201cDost thou know this weapon?\u201d he asked.\n\n\u201cYea, I know it,\u201d she answered; \u201cand thou shouldst know it also, for\nsurely it saved us from the fury of the people on the night of the\ndeath of the first-born. It is the bow of the Wanderer, who lies in the\nplace of torment, and waits his doom because of the wrong he would have\nwrought upon me.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf he hath wronged thee, yet it is he who shall save Khem from the\nbarbarians,\u201d said Pharaoh. \u201cListen now to the dream that I have\ndreamed,\u201d and he told her all the vision.\n\n\u201cIt is indeed evil that he who would have wrought such wickedness upon\nme should go forth honoured, the first of the host of Pharaoh,\u201d quoth\nMeriamun. \u201cYet as the God hath spoken, so let it be. Send now and bid\nthem loose the man from the place of torment, and put his armour on him\nand bring him before thee.\u201d\n\nSo Pharaoh went out, and the Wanderer was loosed from his bed of stone\nand clothed again in his golden harness, and came forth glorious to\nsee, and stood before Pharaoh. But no arms were given him. Then Pharaoh\ntold him all his dream, and why he caused him to be released from the\ngrip of the tormentors. The Wanderer hearkened in silence, saying no\nword.\n\n\u201cNow choose, thou Wanderer,\u201d said Pharaoh: \u201cchoose if thou wilt be\nborne back to the bed of torment, there to die beneath the hands of the\ntormentors, or if thou wilt go forth as the captain of my host to do\nbattle with the Nine-bow barbarians who waste the land of Khem. It\nseems there is little faith in thine oaths, therefore I ask no more\noaths from thee. But this I swear, that if thou art false to my trust,\nI will yet find means to bring thee back to that chamber whence thou\nwast led but now.\u201d\n\nThen the Wanderer spoke:\u2014\n\n\u201cOf that charge, Pharaoh, which is laid against me I will say nothing,\nthough perchance if I stood upon my trial for the sin that is laid\nagainst me, I might find words to say. Thou askest no oath from me, and\nno oath I swear, yet I tell thee that if thou givest me ten thousand\nsoldiers and a hundred chariots, I will smite these foes of thine so\nthat they shall come no more to Khem, ay, though they be of my own\npeople, yet will I smite them, and if I fail, then may those who go\nwith me slay me and send me down to Hades.\u201d\n\nThus he spoke, and as he spoke he searched the hall with his eyes. For\nhe desired to see Rei the Priest, and charge him with a message to\nHelen. But he sought him in vain, for Rei had fled, and was in hiding\nfrom the anger of Meriamun.\n\nThen Pharaoh bade his officers take the Wanderer, and set him in a\nchariot and bear him to the city of On, where Pharaoh\u2019s host was\ngathering. Their charge was to watch him night and day with uplifted\nswords, and if he so much as turned his face from the foe towards\nTanis, then they should slay him. But when the host of Pharaoh marched\nfrom On to do battle on the foe, then they should give the Wanderer his\nown sword and the great black bow, and obey him in everything. But if\nhe turned his back upon the foe, then they should slay him; or if the\nhost of Pharaoh were driven back by the foe, then they should slay him.\n\nThe Wanderer heard, and smiled as a wolf smiles, but spoke no word.\nThereon the great officers of Pharaoh took him and led him forth. They\nset him in a chariot, and with the chariot went a thousand horsemen;\nand soon Meriamun, watching from the walls of Tanis, saw the long line\nof desert dust that marked the passing of the Wanderer from the city\nwhich he should see no more.\n\nThe Wanderer also looked back on Tanis with a heavy heart. There, far\naway, he could see the shrine of Hathor gleaming like crystal above the\ntawny flood of waters. And he must go down to death, leaving no word\nfor Her who sat in the shrine and deemed him faithless and forsworn.\nEvil was the lot that the Gods had laid upon him, and bitter was his\nguerdon.\n\nHis thoughts were sad enough while the chariot rolled towards the city\nof On, where the host of Pharaoh was gathering, and the thunder of the\nfeet of horses echoed in his ears, when, as he pondered, it chanced\nthat he looked up. There, on a knoll of sand before him, a bow-shot\nfrom the chariot, stood a camel, and on the camel a man sat as though\nhe waited the coming of the host. Idly the Wanderer wondered who this\nmight be, and, as he wondered, the man urged the camel towards the\nchariot, and, halting before it cried \u201cHold!\u201d in a loud voice.\n\n\u201cWho art thou?\u201d cried the captain of the chariot, \u201cwho darest cry\n\u2018hold\u2019 to the host of Pharaoh?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am one who have tidings of the barbarians,\u201d the man made answer from\nthe camel.\n\nThe Wanderer looked on him. He was wondrous little, withered and old;\nmoreover, his skin was black as though with the heat of the sun, and\nhis clothing was as a beggar\u2019s rags, though the trappings of the camel\nwere of purple leather and bossed with silver. Again the Wanderer\nlooked; he knew him not, and yet there was that in his face which\nseemed familiar.\n\nNow the captain of the chariot bade the driver halt the horses, and\ncried, \u201cDraw near and tell thy tidings.\u201d\n\n\u201cTo none will I tell my tidings save to him who shall lead the host of\nPharaoh. Let him come down from the chariot and speak with me.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat may not be,\u201d said the captain, for he was charged that the\nWanderer should have speech with none.\n\n\u201cAs thou wilt,\u201d answered the aged man upon the camel; \u201cgo then, go to\nthy doom! thou art not the first who hath turned aside a messenger from\nthe Gods.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am minded to bid the soldiers shoot thee with arrows,\u201d cried the\ncaptain in anger.\n\n\u201cSo shall my wisdom sink in the sand with my blood, and be lost with my\nbreath. Shoot on, thou fool.\u201d\n\nNow the captain was perplexed, for from the aspect of the man he deemed\nthat he was sent by the Gods. He looked at the Wanderer, who took but\nlittle heed, or so it seemed. But in his crafty heart he knew that this\nwas the best way to win speech with the man upon the camel. Then the\ncaptain took counsel with the captain of the horsemen, and in the end\nthey said to the Wanderer:\n\n\u201cDescend from the chariot, lord, and walk twelve paces forward, and\nthere hold speech with the man. But if thou go one pace further, then\nwe will shoot thee and the man with arrows.\u201d And this he cried out also\nto him who sat upon the camel.\n\nThen the man on the camel descended and walked twelve paces forward,\nand the Wanderer descended also from the chariot and walked twelve\npaces forward, but as one who heeds little what he does. Now the two\nstood face to face, but out of earshot of the host, who watched them\nwith arrows set upon the strings.\n\n\u201cGreetings, Odysseus of Ithaca, son of Laertes,\u201d he said who was\nclothed in the beggar\u2019s weeds.\n\nThe Wanderer looked upon him hard, and knew him through his disguise.\n\n\u201cGreeting, Rei the Priest, Commander of the Legion of Amen, Chief of\nthe Treasury of Amen.\u201d\n\n\u201cRei the Priest I am indeed,\u201d he answered, \u201cthe rest I am no more, for\nMeriamun the Queen has stripped me of my wealth and offices, because of\nthee, thou Wanderer, and the Immortal whose love thou hast won, and by\nwhom thou hast dealt so ill. Hearken! I learned by arts known to me of\nthe dream of Pharaoh, and of thy sending forth to do battle with the\nbarbarians. Then I disguised myself as thou seest, and took the\nswiftest camel in Tanis, and am come hither by another way to meet\nthee. Now I would ask thee one thing. How came it that thou didst play\nthe Immortal false that night? Knowest thou that she waited for thee\nthere by the pylon gate? Ay, there I found her and led her to the\nPalace, and for that I am stripped of my rank and goods by Meriamun,\nand now the Lady of Beauty is returned to her shrine, grieving bitterly\nfor thy faithlessness; though how she passed thither I know not.\u201d\n\n\u201cMethought I heard her voice as those knaves bore me to my dungeon,\u201d\nsaid the Wanderer. \u201cAnd she deemed me faithless! Say, Rei, dost thou\nknow the magic of Meriamun? Dost thou know how she won me to herself in\nthe shape of Argive Helen?\u201d\n\nAnd then, in as few words as might be, he told Rei how he had been led\naway by the magic of Meriamun, how he who should have sworn by the Star\nhad sworn by the Snake.\n\nWhen Rei heard that the Wanderer had sworn by the Snake, he shuddered.\n\u201cNow I know all,\u201d he said. \u201cFear not, thou Wanderer, not on thee shall\nall the evil fall, nor on that Immortal whom thou dost love; the Snake\nthat beguiled thee shall avenge thee also.\u201d\n\n\u201cRei,\u201d the Wanderer said, \u201cone thing I charge thee. I know that I go\ndown to my death. Therefore I pray thee seek out her whom thou namest\nthe Hathor and tell her all the tale of how I was betrayed. So shall I\ndie happily. Tell her also that I crave her forgiveness and that I love\nher and her only.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis I will do if I may,\u201d Rei answered. \u201cAnd now the soldiers murmur\nand I must be gone. Listen, the might of the Nine-bow barbarians rolls\nup the eastern branch of Sihor. But one day\u2019s march from On the\nmountains run down to the edge of the river, and those mountains are\npierced by a rocky pass through which the foe will surely come. Set\nthou thy ambush there, Wanderer, there at Prosopis\u2014so shalt thou smite\nthem. Farewell. I will seek out the Hathor if in any way I can come at\nher, and tell her all. But of this I warn thee, the hour is big with\nFate, and soon will spawn a monstrous birth. Strange visions of doom\nand death passed before mine eyes as I slept last night. Farewell!\u201d\n\nThen he went back to the camel and climbed it, and passing round the\narmy vanished swiftly in a cloud of dust.\n\nThe Wanderer also went back to the host, where the captains murmured\nbecause of the halt, and mounted his chariot. But he would tell nothing\nof what the man had said to him, save that he was surely a messenger\nfrom the Under-world to instruct him in the waging of the war.\n\nThen the chariot and the horsemen passed on again, till they came to\nthe city of On, and found the host of Pharaoh gathering in the great\nwalled space that is before the Temple of Ra. And there they pitched\ntheir camp hard by the great obelisks that stand at the inner gate,\nwhich Rei the architect fashioned by Thebes, and the divine Rameses\nMiamun set up to the glory of Ra for ever.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\nTHE VOICE OF THE DEAD\n\n\nWhen Meriamun the Queen had watched the chariot of the Wanderer till it\nwas lost in the dust of the desert, she passed down from the Palace\nroof to the solitude of her chamber.\n\nHere she sat in her chamber till the darkness gathered, as the evil\nthoughts gathered in her heart, that was rent with love of him whom she\nhad won but to lose. Things had gone ill with her, to little purpose\nshe had sinned after such a fashion as may not be forgiven. Yet there\nwas hope. He had sworn that he would wed her when Pharaoh was dead, and\nwhen Argive Helen had followed Pharaoh to the Shades. Should she shrink\nthen from the deed of blood? Nay, from evil to evil she would go. She\nlaid her hand upon the double-headed snake that wound her about, and\nspake into the gloom:\n\n\u201cOsiris waits thee, Meneptah\u2014Osiris waits thee! The Shades of those who\nhave died for thy love, Helen, are gathering at the gates. It shall be\ndone. Pharaoh, thou diest to-night. To-morrow night, thou Goddess\nHelen, shall all thy tale be told. _Man_ may not harm thee indeed, but\nshall fire refuse to kiss thy loveliness? Are there no _women\u2019s_ hands\nto light thy funeral pile?\u201d\n\nThen she rose, and calling her ladies, was attired in her most splendid\nrobes, and caused the uraeus crown to be set upon her head, the snake\ncirclet of power on her brow, the snake girdle of wisdom at her heart.\nAnd now she hid somewhat in her breast, and passed to the ante-chamber,\nwhere the Princes gathered for the feast.\n\nPharaoh looked up and saw her loveliness. So glorious she seemed in her\nroyal beauty that his heart forgot its woes, and once again he loved\nher as he had done in years gone by, when she conquered him at the Game\nof Pieces, and he had cast his arms about her and she stabbed him.\n\nShe saw the look of love grow on his heavy face, and all her gathered\nhate rose in her breast, though she smiled gently with her lips and\nspake him fair.\n\nThey sat at the feast and Pharaoh drank. And ever as he drank she\nsmiled upon him with her dark eyes and spake him words of gentlest\nmeaning, till at length there was nothing he desired more than that\nthey should be at one again.\n\nNow the feast was done. They sat in the ante-chamber, for all were gone\nsave Meneptah and Meriamun. Then he came to her and took her hand,\nlooking into her eyes, nor did she say him nay.\n\nThere was a lute lying on a golden table, and there too, as it chanced,\nwas a board for the Game of Pieces, with the dice, and the pieces\nthemselves wrought in gold.\n\nPharaoh took up the gold king from the board and toyed with it in his\nhand. \u201cMeriamun,\u201d he said, \u201cfor these five years we have been apart,\nthou and I. Thy love I have lost, as a game is lost for one false move,\nor one throw of the dice; and our child is dead and our armies are\nscattered, and the barbarians come like flies when Sihor stirs within\nhis banks. Love only is left to us, Meriamun.\u201d\n\nShe looked at him not unkindly, as if sorrow and wrong had softened her\nheart also, but she did not speak.\n\n\u201cCan dead Love waken, Meriamun, and can angry Love forgive?\u201d\n\nShe had lifted the lute and her fingers touched listlessly on the\ncords.\n\n\u201cNay, I know not,\u201d she said; \u201cwho knows? How did Pentaur sing of Love\u2019s\nrenewal, Pentaur the glorious minstrel of our father, Rameses Miamun?\u201d\n\nHe laid the gold king on the board, and began listlessly to cast the\ndice. He threw the \u201cHathor\u201d as it chanced, the lucky cast, two sixes,\nand a thought of better fortune came to him.\n\n\u201cHow did the song run, Meriamun? It is many a year since I heard thee\nsing.\u201d\n\nShe touched the lute lowly and sweetly, and then she sang. Her thoughts\nwere of the Wanderer, but the King deemed that she thought of himself.\n\nO joy of Love\u2019s renewing,\n    Could Love be born again;\nRelenting for thy rueing,\n    And pitying my pain:\nO joy of Love\u2019s awaking,\n    Could Love arise from sleep,\nForgiving our forsaking\n    The fields we would not reap!\n\nFleet, fleet we fly, pursuing\n    The Love that fled amain,\nBut will he list our wooing,\n    Or call we but in vain?\nAh! vain is all our wooing,\n    And all our prayers are vain,\nLove listeth not our suing,\n    Love will not wake again.\n\n\n\u201cWill he not waken again?\u201d said Pharaoh. \u201cIf two pray together, will\nLove refuse their prayer?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt might be so,\u201d she said, \u201cif two prayed together; for if they\nprayed, he would have heard already!\u201d\n\n\u201cMeriamun,\u201d said the Pharaoh eagerly, for he thought her heart was\nmoved by pity and sorrow, \u201conce thou didst win my crown at the Pieces,\nwilt thou play me for thy love?\u201d\n\nShe thought for one moment, and then she said:\n\n\u201cYes, I will play thee, my Lord, but my hand has lost its cunning, and\nit may well be that Meriamun shall lose again, as she has lost all. Let\nme set the Pieces, and bring wine for my lord.\u201d\n\nShe set the Pieces, and crossing the room, she lifted a great cup of\nwine, and put it by Pharaoh\u2019s hand. But he was so intent on the game\nthat he did not drink.\n\nHe took the field, he moved, she replied, and so the game went between\nthem, in the dark fragrant chamber where the lamp burned, and the\nQueen\u2019s eyes shone in the night. This way and that went the game, till\nshe lost, and he swept the board.\n\nThen in triumph he drained the poisoned cup of wine, and cried,\n\u201cPharaoh is dead!\u201d\n\n\u201cPharaoh is dead!\u201d answered Meriamun, gazing into his eyes.\n\n\u201cWhat is that look in thine eyes, Meriamun, what is that look in thine\neyes?\u201d\n\nAnd the King grew pale as the dead, for he had seen that look\nbefore\u2014when Meriamun slew Hataska.\n\n\u201cPharaoh is dead!\u201d she shrilled in the tone of women who wail the\ndirges. \u201cPharaoh, great Pharaoh is dead! Ere a man may count a hundred\nthy days are numbered. Strange! but to-morrow, Meneptah, shalt thou sit\nwhere Hataska sat, dead on the knees of Death, an Osirian in the lap of\nthe Osiris. Die, Pharaoh, die! But while thy diest, hearken. There is\none I love, the Wanderer who leads thy hosts. His love I stole by arts\nknown to me, and because I stole it he would have shamed me, and I\naccused him falsely in the ears of men. But he comes again, and, so\nsure as thou shalt sit on the knees of Osiris, so surely shall he sit\nupon thy throne, Pharaoh. For Pharaoh is dead!\u201d\n\nHe heard. He gathered his last strength. He rose and staggered towards\nher, striking at the air. Slowly she drew away, while he followed her,\nawful to see. At length he stood still, he threw up his hands, and fell\ndead.\n\nThen Meriamun drew near and looked at him strangely.\n\n\u201cBehold the end of Pharaoh,\u201d she said. \u201cThat then was a king, upon\nwhose breath the lives of peoples hung like a poised feather. Well, let\nhim go! Earth can spare him, and Death is but the richer by a weary\nfool. \u2019Tis done, and well done! Would that to-morrow\u2019s task were also\ndone\u2014and that Helen lay as Pharaoh lies. So\u2014rinse the cup\u2014and now to\nsleep\u2014if sleep will come. Ah, where hath sleep flown of late? To-morrow\nthey\u2019ll find him dead. Well, what of it? So do kings ofttimes die.\nThere, I will be going; never were his eyes so large and so unlovely!\u201d\n\nNow the light of morning gathered again on all the temple tops, and men\nrose from sleep to go about their labours. Meriamun watched it grow as\nshe lay sleepless in her golden bed, waiting for the cry that presently\nshould ring along the Palace walls. Hark! What was that? The sound of\nswinging doors, the rush of running feet. And now it came\u2014long and\nshrill it rose.\n\n\u201cPharaoh is dead! Awake! Awake, ye sleepers! Awake! awake! and look\nupon that which has come about. Pharaoh is dead! Pharaoh is dead!\u201d\n\nThen Meriamun arose, and followed by the ladies, rushed from her\nchamber.\n\n\u201cWho dreams so evilly?\u201d she said. \u201cWho dreams and cries aloud in his\nhaunted sleep?\u201d\n\n\u201cO Queen, it is no dream,\u201d said one. \u201cPass into the ante-chamber and\nsee. There lies Pharaoh dead, and with no wound upon him to tell the\nmanner of his end.\u201d\n\nThen Meriamun cried aloud with a great cry, and threw her hair about\nher face, while tears fell from her dark eyes. She passed into the\nchamber, and there, fallen on his back and cold, lay Pharaoh in his\nroyal robes. Awhile the Queen looked upon him as one who is dumb with\ngrief. Then she lifted up her voice and cried:\n\n\u201cStill is the curse heavy upon Khem and the people of Khem. Pharaoh\nlies dead; yea, he is dead who has no wound, and this I say, that he is\nslain of the witchcraft of her whom men name the Hathor. Oh, my Lord,\nmy Lord!\u201d and kneeling, she laid her hand upon his breast; \u201cby this\ndead heart of thine I swear that I will wreak thy murder on her who\nwrought it. Lift him up! Lift up this poor clay, that was the first of\nkings. Clothe him in the robes of death, and set him on the knees of\nOsiris in the Temple of Osiris. Then go forth through the city and call\nout this, the Queen\u2019s command; call it from street to street. This is\nthe Queen\u2019s command, that \u2018every woman in Tanis who has lost son, or\nhusband, or brother, or kin or lover, through the witchcraft of the\nFalse Hathor, or by the plagues that she hath wrought on Khem, or in\nthe war with the Apura, whom she caused to fly from Khem, do meet me at\nsundown in the Temple of Osiris before the face of the God and of dead\nPharaoh\u2019s Majesty.\u2019\u201d\n\nSo they took Meneptah the Osirian, and wrapping him in the robes of\ndeath, bore him to the knees of Osiris, where he should sit a day and a\nnight. And the messengers of Meriamun went forth summoning the women of\nthe city to meet her at sunset in the Temple of Osiris. Moreover,\nMeriamun sent out slaves by tens and by twenties to the number of two\nthousand, bidding them gather up all the wood that was in Tanis, and\nall the oil and the bitumen, and bundles of reeds by hundreds such as\nare used for the thatching of houses, and lay them in piles and stacks\nin a certain courtyard near the Temple of Hathor. This they did, and so\nthe day wore on, while the women wailed about the streets because of\nthe death of Pharaoh.\n\nNow it chanced that the camel of Rei the Priest fell down from\nweariness as it journeyed swiftly back to Tanis. But Rei sped forward\non foot, and came to the gates of Tanis, sorely wearied, towards the\nevening of that day. When he heard the wailing of the women, he asked\nof a passer-by what new evil had fallen upon Khem, and learned the\ndeath of Pharaoh. Then Rei knew by whose hand Pharaoh was dead, and\ngrieved at heart, because she whom he had served and loved\u2014Meriamun the\nmoon-child\u2014was a murderess. At first he was minded to go up before the\nQueen and put her to an open shame, and then take his death at her\nhands; but when he heard that Meriamun had summoned all the women of\nTanis to meet her in the Temple of Osiris, he had another thought.\nHurrying to that place where he hid in the city, he ate and drank. Then\nhe put off his beggar\u2019s rags, and robed himself afresh, and over all\ndrew the garment of an aged crone, for this was told him, that no man\nshould be suffered to enter the Temple. Now the day was dying, and\nalready the western sky was red, and he hurried forth and mingled with\nthe stream of women who passed towards the Temple gates.\n\n\u201cWho then slew Pharaoh?\u201d asked one; \u201cand why does the Queen summon us\nto meet her?\u201d\n\n\u201cPharaoh is slain by the witchcraft of the False Hathor,\u201d answered\nanother; \u201cand the Queen summons us that we may take counsel how to be\nrid of the Hathor.\u201d\n\n\u201cTell not of the accursed Hathor,\u201d said a third; \u201cmy husband and my\nbrother are dead at her hands, and my son died in the death of the\nfirst-born that she called down on Khem. Ah, if I could but see her\nrent limb from limb I should seek Osiris happily.\u201d\n\n\u201cSome there be,\u201d quoth a fourth, \u201cwho say that not the Hathor, but the\nGods of those Apura brought the woes on Khem, and some that Pharaoh was\nslain by the Queen\u2019s own hand, because of the love she bears to that\ngreat Wanderer who came here a while ago.\u201d\n\n\u201cThou fool,\u201d answered the first; \u201chow can the Queen love one who would\nhave wrought outrage on her?\u201d\n\n\u201cSuch things have been,\u201d said the fourth woman; \u201cperchance he wrought\nno outrage, perchance she beguiled him as women may. Yes, yes, such\nthings have been. I am old, and I have seen such things.\u201d\n\n\u201cYea, thou art old,\u201d said the first. \u201cThou hast no child, no husband,\nno father, no lover, and no brother. Thou hast lost none who are dear\nto thee through the magic of the Hathor. Speak one more such slander on\nthe Queen, and we will fall upon thee and tear thy lying tongue from\nits roots.\u201d\n\n\u201cHush,\u201d said the second woman, \u201chere are the Temple gates. By Isis did\nany ever see such a multitude of women, and never a man to cheer them,\na dreary sight, indeed! Come, push on, push on or we shall find no\nplace. Yea, thou soldier\u2014we are women, all women, have no fear. No need\nto bare our breasts, look at our eyes blind with weeping over the dead.\nPush on! push on!\u201d\n\nSo they passed by the guards and into the gates of the Temple, and with\nthem went Rei unheeded. Already it was well-nigh filled with women.\nAlthough the sun was not yet dead, torches were set about to lighten\nthe gloom, and by them Rei saw that the curtains before the Shrine were\ndrawn. Presently the Temple was full to overflowing, the doors were\nshut and barred, and a voice from behind the veil cried:\n\n\u201c_Silence!_\u201d\n\nThen all the multitude of women were silent, and the light of the\ntorches flared strangely upon their shifting upturned faces, as fires\nflare over the white sea-foam. Now the curtains of the Shrine of Osiris\nwere drawn aside slowly, and the light that burned upon the altar\nstreamed out between them. It fell upon the foremost ranks of women, it\nfell upon the polished statue of the Osiris. On the knees of Osiris sat\nthe body of Pharaoh Meneptah, his head resting against the breast of\nthe God. Pharaoh was wrapped about with winding clothes like the marble\nstatue of the God, and in his cold hands were bound the crook, the\nsceptre, and the scourge, as the crook, the sceptre, and the scourge\nwere placed in the hands of the effigy of the God. As was the statue of\nthe God, so was the body of Pharaoh that sat upon his knees, and cold\nand awful was the face of Osiris, and cold and awful was the face of\nMeneptah the Osirian.\n\nAt the side, and somewhat in front of the statue of the God, a throne\nwas placed of blackest marble, and on the throne sat Meriamun the\nQueen. She was glorious to look on. She wore the royal robes of Khem,\nthe double-crown of Khem fashioned of gold, and wreathed with the\nuraeus snakes, was set upon her head; in her hand was the crystal cross\nof Life, and between her mantle\u2019s purple folds gleamed the eyes of her\nsnake girdle. She sat awhile in silence speaking no word, and all the\nwomen wondered at her glory and at dead Pharaoh\u2019s awfulness. Then at\nlength she spoke, low indeed, but so clearly that every word reached\nthe limits of the Temple hall.\n\n\u201cWomen of Tanis, hear me, the Queen. Let each search the face of each,\nand if there be any man among your multitude, let him be dragged forth\nand torn limb from limb, for in this matter no man may hear our\ncounsels, lest following his madness he betray them.\u201d\n\nNow every woman looked upon her neighbour, and she who was next to Rei\nlooked hard upon him so that he trembled for his life. But he crouched\ninto the shadow and stared back on her boldly as though he doubted if\nshe were indeed a woman, and said no word. When all had looked, and no\nman had been found, Meriamun spoke again.\n\n\u201cHearken, women of Tanis, hearken to your sister and your Queen. Woe\nupon woe is fallen on the head of Khem. Plague upon plague hath smitten\nthe ancient land. Our first-born are dead, our slaves have spoiled us\nand fled away, our hosts have been swallowed in the Sea of Weeds, and\nbarbarians swarm along our shores like locusts. Is it not so, women of\nTanis?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is so, O Queen,\u201d they answered, as with one voice.\n\n\u201cA strange evil hath fallen on the head of Khem. A false Goddess is\ncome to dwell within the land; her sorceries are great in the land.\nMonth by month men go up to look upon her deadly beauty, and month by\nmonth they are slain of her sorceries. She takes the husband from his\nmarriage bed; she draws the lover from her who waits to be a bride; the\nslave flies to her from the household of his lord; the priests flock to\nher from the altars of the Gods\u2014ay, the very priests of Isis flock\nforsworn from the altars of Isis. All look upon her witch-beauty, and\nto each she shows an altered loveliness, and to all she gives one\nguerdon\u2014Death! Is it not so, women of Tanis?\u201d\n\n\u201cAlas! alas! it is so, O Queen,\u201d answered the women as with one voice.\n\n\u201cWoes are fallen on you and Khem, my sisters, but on me most of all are\nwoes fallen. My people have been slain, my land\u2014the land I love\u2014has\nbeen laid waste with plagues; my child, the only one, is dead in the\ngreat death; hands have been laid on me, the Queen of Khem. Think on\nit, ye who are women! My slaves are fled, my armies have been swallowed\nin the sea; and last, O my sisters, my consort, my beloved lord, mighty\nPharaoh, son of great Rameses Miamun, hath been taken from me! Look!\nlook! ye who are wives, look on him who was your King and my most\nbeloved lord. There he sits, and all my tears and all my prayers may\nnot summon one single answering sigh from that stilled heart. The curse\nhath fallen on him also. He too hath been smitten silently with\neverlasting silence. Look! look! ye who are wives, and weep with me, ye\nwho are left widowed.\u201d\n\nNow the women looked, and a great groan went up from all that\nmultitude, while Meriamun hid her face with the hollow of her hand.\nThen again she spoke.\n\n\u201cI have besought the Gods, my sisters; I have dared to call down the\nmajesty of the Gods, who speak through the lips of the dead, and I have\nlearnt whence these woes come. And this I have won by my prayers, that\nye who suffer as I suffer shall learn whence they come, not from my\nmortal lips, indeed, but from the lips of the dead that speak with the\nvoice of the Gods.\u201d\n\nThen, while the women trembled, she turned to the body of Pharaoh,\nwhich was set upon the knees of Osiris, and spoke to it.\n\n\u201cDead Pharaoh! great Osirian, ruling in the Underworld, hearken to me\nnow! Hearken to me now, thou Osiris, Lord of the West, first of the\nhosts of Death. Hearken to me, Osiris, and be manifest through the lips\nof him who was great on earth. Speak through his cold lips, speak with\nmortal accents, that these people may hear and understand. By the\nspirit that is in me, who am yet a dweller on the earth, I charge thee\nspeak. Who is the source of the woes of Khem? Say, Lord of the dead,\nwho are the living evermore?\u201d\n\nNow the flame on the altar died away, and dreadful silence fell upon\nthe Temple, gloom fell upon the Shrine, and through the gloom the\ngolden crown of Meriamun, and the cold statue of the Osiris, and the\nwhite face of dead Meneptah gleamed faint and ghost-like.\n\nThen suddenly the flame of the altar flared as flares the summer\nlightning. It flared full on the face of the dead, and lo! the lips of\nthe dead moved, and from them came the sound of mortal speech. They\nspake in awful accents, and thus they spoke:\n\n\u201c_She who was the curse of Ach\u00e6ans, she who was the doom of Ilios; she\nwho sits in the Temple of Hathor, the Fate of man, who may not be\nharmed of Man, she calls down the wrath of the Gods on Khem. It is\nspoken!_\u201d\n\nThe echo of the awful words died away in the silence. Then fear took\nhold of the multitude of women because of the words of the Dead, and\nsome fell upon their faces, and some covered their eyes with their\nhands.\n\n\u201cArise, my sisters!\u201d cried the voice of Meriamun. \u201cYe have heard not\nfrom my lips, but from the lips of the dead. Arise, and let us forth to\nthe Temple of the Hathor. Ye have heard who is the fountain of our\nwoes; let us forth and seal it at its source for ever. Of men she may\nnot be harmed who is the fate of men, from men we ask no help, for all\nmen are her slaves, and for her beauty\u2019s sake all men forsake us. But\nwe will play the part of men. Our women\u2019s milk shall freeze within our\nbreasts, we will dip our tender hands in blood, ay, scourged by a\nthousand wrongs we will forget our gentleness, and tear this foul\nfairness from its home. We will burn the Hathor\u2019s Shrine with fire, her\npriests shall perish at the altar, and the beauty of the false Goddess\nshall melt like wax in the furnace of our hate. Say, will ye follow me,\nmy sisters, and wreak our shames upon the Shameful One, our woes upon\nthe Spring of Woe, our dead upon their murderess?\u201d\n\nShe ceased, and then from every woman\u2019s throat within the great Temple\nthere went up a cry of rage, fierce and shrill.\n\n\u201cWe will, Meriamun, we will!\u201d they screamed. \u201cTo the Hathor! Lead us to\nthe Hathor\u2019s Shrine! Bring fire! Bring fire! Lead us to the Hathor\u2019s\nShrine!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\nTHE BURNING OF THE SHRINE\n\n\nRei the Priest saw and heard. Then turning, he stole away through the\nmaddened throng of women and fled with what speed he might from the\nTemple. His heart was filled with fear and shame, for he knew full well\nthat Pharaoh was dead, not at the hand of Hathor, but at the hand of\nMeriamun the Queen, whom he had loved. He knew well that dead Meneptah\nspake not with the voice of the dread Gods, but with the voice of the\nmagic of Meriamun, who, of all women that have been since the days of\nTaia, was the most skilled in evil magic, the lore of the Snake. He\nknew also that Meriamun would slay Helen for the same cause wherefore\nshe had slain Pharaoh, that she might win the Wanderer to her arms.\nWhile Helen lived he was not to be won away.\n\nNow Rei was a righteous man, loving the Gods and good, and hating evil,\nand his heart burned because of the wickedness of the woman that once\nhe cherished. This he swore that he would do, if time were left to him.\nHe would warn the Helen so that she might fly the fire if so she\nwilled, ay, and would tell her all the wickedness of Meriamun her foe.\n\nHis old feet stumbled over each other as he fled till he came to the\ngates of the Temple of the Hathor, and knocked upon the gates.\n\n\u201cWhat wouldst thou, old crone?\u201d asked the priest who sat in the gates.\n\n\u201cI would be led to the presence of the Hathor,\u201d he answered.\n\n\u201cNo woman hath passed up to look upon the Hathor,\u201d said the priest.\n\u201cThat women do not seek.\u201d\n\nThen Rei made a secret sign, and wondering greatly that a woman should\nhave the inner wisdom, the priest let him pass.\n\nHe came to the second gates.\n\n\u201cWhat wouldst thou?\u201d said the priest who sat in the gates.\n\n\u201cI would go up into the presence of the Hathor.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo woman hath willed to look upon the Hathor,\u201d said the priest.\n\nThen again Rei made the secret sign, but still the priest wavered.\n\n\u201cLet me pass, thou foolish warden,\u201d said Rei. \u201cI am a messenger from\nthe Gods.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf thou art a mortal messenger, woman, thou goest to thy doom,\u201d said\nthe priest.\n\n\u201cOn my head be it,\u201d answered Rei, and the priest let him pass\nwondering.\n\nNow he stood before the doors of the Alabaster Shrine that glowed with\nthe light within. Still Rei paused not, only uttering a prayer that he\nmight be saved from the unseen swords; he lifted the latch of bronze,\nand entered fearfully. But none fell upon him, nor was he smitten of\ninvisible spears. Before him swung the curtains of Tyrian web, but no\nsound of singing came from behind the curtains. All was silence in the\nShrine. He passed between the curtains and looked up the Sanctuary. It\nwas lit with many hanging lamps, and by their light he saw the Goddess\nHelen, seated between the pillars of her loom. But she wove no more at\nthe loom. The web of fate was rent by the Wanderer\u2019s hands, and lay on\neither side, a shining cloth of gold. The Goddess Helen sat songless in\nher lonely Shrine, and on her breast gleamed the Red Star of light that\nwept the blood of men. Her head rested on her hand, and her heavenly\neyes of blue gazed emptily down the empty Shrine.\n\nRei drew near trembling, though she seemed to see him not at all, and\nat last flung himself upon the earth before her. Now at length she saw\nhim, and spoke in her voice of music.\n\n\u201cWho art thou that dares to break in upon my sorrow?\u201d she said\nwonderingly. \u201cArt thou indeed a woman come to look on one who by the\nwill of the Gods is each woman\u2019s deadliest foe?\u201d\n\nThen Rei raised himself saying:\n\n\u201cNo woman am I, immortal Lady. I am Rei, that aged priest who met thee\ntwo nights gone by the pylon gates, and led thee to the Palace of\nPharaoh. And I have dared to seek thy Shrine to tell thee that thou art\nin danger at the hands of Meriamun the Queen, and also to give thee a\ncertain message with which I am charged by him who is named the\nWanderer.\u201d\n\nNow Helen looked upon him wonderingly and spoke:\n\n\u201cDidst thou not but now name me immortal, Rei? How then can I be in\ndanger, who am immortal, and not to be harmed of men? Death hath no\npart in me. Speak not to me of dangers, who, alas! can never die till\neverything is done; but tell me of that faithless Wanderer, whom I must\nlove with all the womanhood that shuts my spirit in, and all my spirit\nthat is clothed in womanhood. For, Rei, the Gods, withholding Death,\nhave in wrath cursed me with love to torment my deathlessness. Oh, when\nI saw him standing where now thou standest, my soul knew its other\npart, and I learned that the curse I give to others had fallen on\nmyself and him.\u201d\n\n\u201cYet was this Wanderer not altogether faithless to thee, Lady,\u201d said\nRei. \u201cListen, and I will tell thee all.\u201d\n\n\u201cSpeak on,\u201d she said. \u201cOh, speak, and speak swiftly.\u201d\n\nThen Rei told Helen all that tale which the Wanderer had charged him to\ndeliver in her ear, and keep no word back. He told her how Meriamun had\nbeguiled Eperitus in her shape; how he had fallen in the snare and\nsworn by the Snake, he who should have sworn by the Star. He told her\nhow the Wanderer had learned the truth, and learning it, had cursed the\nwitch who wronged him; how he had been overcome by the guards and borne\nto the bed of torment; how he had been freed by the craft of Meriamun;\nand how he had gone forth to lead the host of Khem. All this he told\nher swiftly, hiding naught, while she listened with eager ears.\n\n\u201cTruly,\u201d she said, when all was told, \u201ctruly thou art a happy\nmessenger. Now I forgive him all. Yet has he sworn by the Snake who\nshould have sworn by the Star, and because of his fault never in this\nspace of life shall Helen call him Lord. Yet will we follow him, Rei.\nHark! what is that? Again it comes, that long shrill cry as of ghosts\nbroke loose from Hades.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is the Queen,\u201d quoth Rei; \u201cthe Queen who with all women of Tanis\ncomes hither to burn thee in thy Shrine. She hath slain Pharaoh, and\nnow she would slay thee also, and so win the Wanderer to her arms. Fly,\nLady! Fly!\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, I fly not,\u201d said Helen. \u201cLet her come. But do thou, Rei, pass\nthrough the Temple gates and mingle with the crowd. There thou shalt\nawait my coming, and when I come, draw near, fearing nothing; and\ntogether we will pass down the path of the Wanderer in such fashion as\nI shall show thee. Go! go swiftly, and bid those who minister to me\npass out with thee.\u201d\n\nThen Rei turned and fled. Without the doors of the Shrine many priests\nwere gathered.\n\n\u201cFly! the women of Tanis are upon you!\u201d he cried. \u201cI charge ye to fly!\u201d\n\n\u201cThis old crone is mad,\u201d quoth one. \u201cWe watch the Hathor, and, come all\nthe women of the world, we fly not.\u201d\n\n\u201cYe are mad indeed,\u201d said Rei, and sped on.\n\nHe passed the gates, the gates clashed behind him. He won the outer\nspace, and hiding in the shadows of the Temple walls, looked forth. The\nnight was dark, but from every side a thousand lights poured down\ntowards the Shrine. On they came like lanterns on the waters of Sihor\nat the night of the feast of lanterns. Now he could see their host. It\nwas the host of the women of Tanis, and every woman bore a lighted\ntorch. They came by tens, by hundreds, and by thousands, and before\nthem was Meriamun, seated in a golden chariot, and with them were\nasses, oxen, and camels, laden with bitumen, wood, and reeds. Now they\ngained the gates, and now they crashed them in with battering trees of\npalm. The gates fell, the women poured through them. At their head went\nMeriamun the Queen. Bidding certain of them stay by her chariot she\npassed through, and standing at the inner gates called aloud to the\npriests to throw them wide.\n\n\u201cWho art thou who darest come up with fire against the holy Temple of\nthe Hathor?\u201d asked the guardian of the gates.\n\n\u201cI am Meriamun, the Queen of Khem,\u201d she answered, \u201ccome with the women\nof Tanis to slay the Witch thou guardest. Throw the gates wide, or die\nwith the Witch.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf indeed thou art the Queen,\u201d answered the priest, \u201chere there sits a\ngreater Queen than thou. Go back! Go back, Meriamun, who art not afraid\nto offer violence to the immortal Gods. Go back! lest the curse smite\nthee.\u201d\n\n\u201cDraw on! draw on! ye women,\u201d cried Meriamun; \u201cdraw on, smite down the\ngates, and tear these wicked ones limb from limb.\u201d\n\nThen the women screamed aloud and battered on the gates with trees, so\nthat they fell. They fell and the women rushed in madly. They seized\nthe priests of Hathor and tore them limb from limb as dogs tear a wolf.\nNow the Shrine stood before them.\n\n\u201cTouch not the doors,\u201d cried Meriamun. \u201cBring fire and burn the Shrine\nwith her who dwells therein. Touch not the doors, look not in the\nWitch\u2019s face, but burn her where she is with fire.\u201d\n\nThen the women brought the reeds and the wood, and piled them around\nthe Shrine to twice the height of a man. They brought ladders also, and\npiled the fuel upon the roof of the Shrine till all was covered. And\nthey poured pitch over the fuel, and then at the word of Meriamun they\ncast torches on the pitch and drew back screaming. For a moment the\ntorches smouldered, then suddenly on every side great tongues of flame\nleapt up to heaven. Now the Shrine was wrapped in fire, and yet they\ncast fuel on it till none might draw near because of the heat. Now it\nburned as a furnace burns, and now the fire reached the fuel on the\nroof. It caught, and the Shrine was but a sheet of raging flame that\nlit the white-walled city, and the broad face of the waters, as the sun\nlights the lands. The alabaster walls of the Shrine turned whiter yet\nwith heat: they cracked and split till the fabric tottered to its fall.\n\n\u201cNow there is surely an end of the Witch,\u201d cried Meriamun, and the\nwomen screamed an answer to her.\n\nBut even as they screamed a great tongue of flame shot out through the\nmolten doors, ten fathoms length and more, it shot like a spear of\nfire. Full in its path stood a group of the burners. It struck them, it\nlicked them up, and lo! they fell in blackened heaps upon the ground.\n\nRei looked down the path of the flame. There, in the doorway whence it\nhad issued, stood the Golden Hathor, wrapped round with fire, and the\nmolten metal of the doors crept about her feet. There she stood in the\nheart of the fire, but there was no stain of fire on her, nor on her\nwhite robes, nor on her streaming hair; and even through the glow of\nthe furnace he saw the light of the Red Star at her breast. The flame\nlicked her form and face, it wrapped itself around her, and curled\nthrough the masses of her hair. But still she stood unharmed, while the\nburners shrank back amazed, all save Meriamun the Queen. And as she\nstood she sang wild and sweet, and the sound of her singing came\nthrough the roar of the flames and reached the ears of the women, who,\nforgetting their rage, clung to one another in fear. Thus she sang\u2014of\nthat Beauty which men seek in all women, and never find, and of the\neternal war for her sake between the women and the men, which is the\ngreat war of the world. And thus her song ended:\n\n\u201cWill ye bring flame to burn my Shrine\n    Who am myself a flame,\nBring death to tame this charm of mine\n    That death can never tame?\nWill ye bring fire to harm my head\n    Who am myself a fire,\nBring vengeance for your Lovers dead\n    Upon the World\u2019s Desire?\n\nNay, women while the earth endures,\n    Your loves are not your own.\nThey love you not, these loves of yours,\n    _Helen_ they love alone!\nMy face they seek in every face,\n    Mine eyes in yours they see,\nThey do but kneel to you a space,\n    And rise and follow _me!_\u201d\n\n\nThen, still singing, she stepped forward from the Shrine, and as she\nwent the walls fell in, and the roof crashed down upon the ruin and the\nflames shot up into the very sky. Helen heeded it not. She looked not\nback, but out to the gates beyond. She glanced not at the fierce\nblackened faces of the women, nor on the face of Meriamun, who stood\nbefore her, but slowly passed towards the gates. Nor did she go alone,\nfor with her came a canopy of fire, hedging her round with flame that\nburned from nothing. The women saw the wonder and fell down in their\nfear, covering their eyes. Meriamun alone fell not, but she too must\ncover her eyes because of the glory of Helen and the fierceness of the\nflame that wrapped her round.\n\nNow Helen ceased singing, but moved slowly through the courts till she\ncame to the outer gates. Here by the gates was the chariot of Meriamun.\nThen Helen called aloud, and the Queen, who followed, heard her words:\n\n\u201cRei,\u201d she cried, \u201cdraw nigh and have no fear. Draw nigh that I may\npass with thee down that path the Wanderer treads. Draw nigh, and let\nus swiftly hence, for the hero\u2019s last battle is at hand, and I would\ngreet him ere he die.\u201d\n\nRei heard her and drew near trembling, tearing from him the woman\u2019s\nweeds he wore, and showing the priest\u2019s garb beneath. And as he came\nthe fire that wrapped her glory round left her, and passed upward like\na cloak of flame. She stretched out her hand to him, saying:\n\n\u201cLead me to yonder chariot, Rei, and let us hence.\u201d\n\nThen he led her to the chariot, while those who stood by fled in fear.\nShe mounted the chariot, and he set himself beside her. Then he grasped\nthe reins and called to the horses, and they bounded forward and were\nlost in the night.\n\nBut Meriamun cried in her wrath:\n\n\u201cThe Witch is gone, gone with my own servant whom she hath led astray.\nBring chariots, and let horsemen come with the chariots, for where she\npasses there I will follow, ay, to the end of the world and the coast\nof Death.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\nTHE LAST FIGHT OF ODYSSEUS, LAERTES\u2019 SON\n\n\nNow the host of Pharaoh marched forth from On, to do battle with the\nNine-bow barbarians. And before the host marched, the Captains came to\nthe Wanderer, according to the command of Pharaoh, and placing their\nhands in his, swore to do his bidding on the march and in the battle.\nThey brought him the great black bow of Eurytus, and his keen sword of\nbronze, Euryalus\u2019 gift, and many a sheaf of arrows, and his heart\nrejoiced when he saw the goodly weapon. He took the bow and tried it,\nand as he drew the string, once again and for the last time it sang\nshrilly of death to be. The Captains heard the Song of the Bow, though\nwhat it said the Wanderer knew alone, for to their ears it came but as\na faint, keen cry, like the cry of one who drowns in the water far from\nthe kindly earth. But they marvelled much at the wonder, and said one\nto another that this man was no mortal, but a God come from the\nUnder-world.\n\nThen the Wanderer mounted the chariot of bronze that had been made\nready for him, and gave the word to march.\n\nAll night the host marched swiftly, and at day-break they camped\nbeneath the shelter of a long, low hill. But at the sunrise the\nWanderer left the host, climbed the hill with certain of the Captains,\nand looked forth. Before him was a great pass in the mountains, ten\nfurlongs or more in length, and through it ran the road. The sides of\nthe mountain sloped down to the road, and were strewn with rocks split\nby the sun, polished by the sand, and covered over with bush that grew\nsparsely, like the hair on the limbs of a man. To the left of the\nmountains lay the river Sihor, but none might pass between the mountain\nand the river. The Wanderer descended from the hill, and while the\nsoldiers ate, drove swiftly in his chariot to the further end of the\npass and looked forth again. Here the river curved to the left, leaving\na wide plain, and on the plain he saw the host of the Nine-bow\nbarbarians, the mightiest host that ever his eyes had looked upon. They\nwere encamped by nations, and of each nation there was twenty thousand\nmen, and beyond the glittering camp of the barbarians he saw the curved\nships of the Ach\u00e6ans. They were drawn up on the beach of the great\nriver, as many a year ago he had seen them drawn up on the shore that\nis by Ilios. He looked upon plain and pass, on mountain and river, and\nmeasured the number of the foe. Then his heart was filled with the lust\nof battle, and his warlike cunning awoke. For of all leaders he was the\nmost skilled in the craft of battle, and he desired that this, his last\nwar, should be the greatest war of all.\n\nTurning his horses\u2019 heads, he galloped back to the host of Pharaoh and\nmustered them in battle array. It was but a little number as against\nthe number of the barbarians\u2014twelve thousand spearmen, nine thousand\narchers, two thousand horsemen, and three hundred chariots. The\nWanderer passed up and down their ranks, bidding them be of good\ncourage, for this day they should sweep the barbarians from the land.\n\nAs he spoke a hawk flew down from the right, and fell on a heron, and\nslew it in mid-air. The host shouted, for the hawk is the Holy Bird of\nRa, and the Wanderer, too, rejoiced in the omen. \u201cLook, men,\u201d he cried;\n\u201cthe Bird of Ra has slain the wandering thief from the waters. And so\nshall ye smite the spoilers from the sea.\u201d\n\nThen he held counsel with Captains, and certain trusty men were sent\nout to the camp of the barbarians. And they were charged to give an ill\nreport of the host of Pharaoh, and to say that such of it as remained\nawaited the barbarian onset behind the shelter of the hill on the\nfurther side of the pass.\n\nThen the Wanderer summoned the Captains of the archers, and bade them\nhide all their force among the rocks and thorns on either side of the\nmountain pass, and there to wait till he drew the hosts of the foe into\nthe pass. And with the archers he sent a part of the spearmen, but the\nchariots he hid beneath the shelter of the hill on the hither side of\nthe pass.\n\nNow, when the ambush was set, and all were gone save the horsemen only,\nhis spies came in and told him that the host of the barbarians marched\nfrom their camp, but that the Ach\u00e6ans marched not, but stopped by the\nriver to guard the camp and ships. Then the Wanderer bade the horsemen\nride through the pass and stand in the plain beyond, and there await\nthe foe. But when the hosts of the barbarians charged them, they must\nreel before the charge, and at length fly headlong down the pass as\nthough in fear. And he himself would lead the flight in his chariot,\nand where he led there they should follow.\n\nSo the horsemen rode through the pass and formed their squadrons on the\nplain beyond. Now the foe drew nigh, and a glorious sight it was to see\nthe midday sun sparkling on their countless spears. Of horsemen they\nhad no great number, but there were many chariots and swordsmen, and\nspearmen, and slingers beyond count. They came on by nations, and in\nthe centre of the host of each nation sat the king of the nation in a\nglorious chariot, with girls and eunuchs, holding fans to fan him with\nand awnings of silk to hide him from the sun.\n\nNow the Wanderer hung back behind the squadrons of horsemen as though\nin fear. But presently he sent messengers bidding the Captains of the\nsquadrons to charge the first nation, and fight for a while but feebly,\nand then when they saw him turn his horses and gallop through the pass,\nto follow after him as though in doubt, but in such fashion as to draw\nthe foe upon their heels.\n\nThis the Captains of the mercenaries did. Once they charged and were\nbeaten back, then they charged again, but the men made as though they\nfeared the onset. Now the foe came hard after them, and the Wanderer\nturned his chariot and fled through the pass, followed slowly by the\nhorsemen. And when the hosts of the barbarians saw them turn, they set\nup a mighty shout of laughter that rent the skies, and charged after\nthem.\n\nBut the Wanderer looked back and laughed also. Now he was through the\npass followed by the horsemen, and after them swept the hosts of the\nbarbarians, like a river that has burst its banks. Still the Wanderer\nheld his hand till the whole pass was choked with the thousands of the\nfoe, ay, until the half of the first of the nations had passed into the\nnarrow plain that lay between the hill and the mouth of the pass. Then,\ndriving apace up the hill, he stood in his chariot and gave the signal.\nLifting his golden shield on high he flashed it thrice, and all the\nhorsemen shouted aloud. At the first flash, behold, from behind every\nrock and bush of the mountain sides arose the helms of armed men. At\nthe second flash there came a rattling sound of shaken quivers, and at\nthe third flash of the golden shield, the air was darkened with the\nflight of arrows. As the sea-birds on a lonely isle awake at the cry of\nthe sailor, and wheel by thousands from their lofty cliffs, so at the\nthird flash of the Wanderer\u2019s shield the arrows of his hidden host\nrushed downward on the foe, rattling like hail upon the harness. For\nawhile they kept their ranks, and pressed on over the bodies of those\nthat fell. But soon the horses in the chariots, maddened with wounds,\nplunged this way and that, breaking their companies and trampling the\nsoldiers down. Now some strove to fly forward, and some were fain to\nfly back, and many an empty chariot was dragged this way and that, but\never the pitiless rain of shafts poured down, and men fell by thousands\nbeneath the gale of death. Now the mighty host of the Nine-bows rolled\nback, thinned and shattered, towards the plain, and now the Wanderer\ncried the word of onset to the horsemen and to the chariots that drew\nfrom behind the shelter of the hill, and following after him they\ncharged down upon those barbarians who had passed the ambush, singing\nthe song of Pentaur as they charged. Among those nigh the mouth of the\npass was the king of the nation of the Libu, a great man, black and\nterrible to see. The Wanderer drew his bow, the arrow rushed forth and\npierced the king, and he fell dead in his chariot. Then those of his\nhost who passed the ambush turned to fly, but the chariot of the\nWanderer dashed into them, and after the chariot came the horsemen, and\nafter the horsemen the chariots of Pharaoh.\n\nNow all who were left of the broken host rolled back, mad with fear,\nwhile the spearmen of Pharaoh galled them as hunters gall a flying\nbull, and the horsemen of Pharaoh trampled them beneath their feet. Red\nslaughter raged all down the pass, helms, banners, arrow-points shone\nand fell in the stream of the tide of war, but at length the stony way\nwas clear save for the dead alone. Beyond the pass the plain was black\nwith flying men, and the fragments of the broken nations were mixed\ntogether as clay and sand are mixed of the potter. Where now were the\nhosts of the Nine-bow barbarians? Where now were their glory and their\npride?\n\nThe Wanderer gathered his footmen and his chariots and set them in\narray again but the horsemen he sent out to smite the flying nations\nand wait his coming by the camp; for there were mustering those who\nwere left of the nations, perchance twenty thousand men, and before\ntheir ships were ranged the dense ranks of the Ach\u00e6ans, shield to\nshield, every man in his place.\n\nThe Wanderer led his host slowly across the sandy plain, till at length\nhe halted it two bow-shots from the camp of the barbarians. The camp\nwas shaped like a bow, and the river Sihor formed its string, and round\nit was a deep ditch and beyond the ditch a wall of clay. Moreover,\nwithin the camp and nearer to the shore there was a second ditch and\nwall, and behind it were the beaks of the ships and the host of\nAquaiusha, even of his own dear people the Ach\u00e6ans. There were the old\nblazons, and the spears that had fought below Troy town. There were the\ntwo lions of Mycen\u00e6, the Centaur of the son of Polypaetas, son of\nPirithous; there were the Swan of Laced\u00e6mon, and the Bull of the Kings\nof Crete, the Rose of Rhodes, the Serpent of Athens, and many another\nknightly bearing of old friends and kindred dear. And now they were the\nblazons of foemen, and the Wanderer warred for a strange king, and for\nhis own hand, beneath the wings of the Hawk of the Legion of Ra.\n\nThe Wanderer sent heralds forward, calling to those barbarians who\nswarmed behind the wall to surrender to the host of Pharaoh, but this,\nbeing entrenched by the river Sihor, they would in nowise do. For they\nwere mad because of their slaughtered thousands, and moreover they knew\nthat it is better to die than to live as slaves. This they saw also,\nthat their host was still as strong as the host of Pharaoh, which was\nwithout the wall, and weary with the heat and stress of battle and the\ntoil of marching through the desert sands. Now the Captains of the host\nof Pharaoh came to the Wanderer, praying him that he would do no more\nbattle on that day, because the men were weary, and the horses neighed\nfor food and water.\n\nBut he answered them: \u201cI swore to Pharaoh that I would utterly smite\nthe people of the Nine-bows and drive them down to death, so that the\ncoasts of Khem may be free of them. Here I may not camp the host,\nwithout food or pasture for the horses, and if I go back, the foe will\ngather heart and come on, and with them the fleet of the Ach\u00e6ans, and\nno more shall we lure them into ambush, for therein they have learned a\nlesson. Nay, get you to your companies. I will go up against the camp.\u201d\n\nThen they bowed and went, for having seen his deeds and his skill and\ncraft in war, they held him the first of Captains, and dared not say\nhim nay.\n\nSo the Wanderer divided his host into three parts, set it in order of\nbattle, and moved up against the camp. But he himself went with the\ncentre part against the gate of the camp, for here there was an earthen\nway for chariots, if but the great gates might be passed. And at a word\nthe threefold host rushed on to the charge. But those within the walls\nshot them with spears and arrows, so that many were slain, and they\nwere rolled back from the wall as a wave is rolled from the cliff.\nAgain the Wanderer bade them charge on the right and left, bearing the\ndead before them as shields, and hurling corpses into the ditch to fill\nit. But he himself hung back awhile with the middle army, watching how\nthe battle went, and waiting till the foe at the gate should be drawn\naway.\n\nNow the mercenaries of Pharaoh forced a passage on the right and\nthither went many of the barbarians who watched the gate, that they\nmight drive them back.\n\nThen the Wanderer bade men take out the poles of chariots and follow\nhim and beat down the gates with the poles. This with much toil and\nloss they did, for the archers poured their arrows on the assailants of\nthe gate. Now at length the gates were down, and the Wanderer rushed\nthrough them with his chariot. But even as he passed the mercenaries of\nPharaoh were driven out from the camp on the right, and those who led\nthe left attack fled also. The soldiers who should have followed the\nWanderer saw and wavered a little moment, and while they wavered the\ncompanies of the barbarians poured into the gateway and held it so that\nnone might pass. Now the Wanderer was left alone within the camp, and\nback he might not go. But fear came not nigh him, nay, the joy of\nbattle filled his mighty heart. He cast his shield upon the brazen\nfloor of the chariot, and cried aloud to the charioteer, as he loosened\nthe long grey shafts in his quiver.\n\n\u201cDrive on, thou charioteer! Drive on! The jackals leave the lion in the\ntoils. Drive on! Drive on! and win a glorious death, for thus should\nOdysseus die.\u201d\n\nSo the charioteer, praying to his Gods, lashed the horses with his\nscourge, and they sprang forward madly among the foe. And as they\nrushed, the great bow rang and sang the swallow string\u2014rung the bow and\nsung the string, and the lean shaft drank the blood of a leader of men.\nAgain the string sang, again the shaft sped forth, and a barbarian king\nfell from his chariot as a diver plunges into the sea, and his teeth\nbit the sand.\n\n\u201cDive deep, thou sea-thief!\u201d cried the Wanderer, \u201cthou mayest find\ntreasures there! Drive on, thou charioteer, so should lions die while\njackals watch.\u201d\n\nNow the barbarians looked on the Wanderer and were amazed. For ever his\nchariot rushed to and fro, across the mustering ground of the camp, and\never his grey shafts carried death before them, and ever the foemen\u2019s\narrows fell blunted from his golden harness. They looked on him amazed,\nthey cried aloud that this was the God of War come down to do battle\nfor Khem, that it was Sutek the Splendid, that it was Baal in his\nstrength; they fled amain before his glory and his might. For the\nWanderer raged among them like great Rameses Miamun among the tribes of\nthe Khita; like Monthu, the Lord of Battles, and lo! they fled before\nhim, their knees gave way, their hearts were turned to water, he drove\nthem as a herdsman drives the yearling calves.\n\nBut now at length a stone from a sling smote the charioteer who\ndirected the chariot, and sunk in between his eyes, so that he fell\ndown dead from the chariot. Then the reins flew wide, and the horses\nrushed this way and that, having no master. And now a spear pierced the\nheart of the horse on the right, so that he fell, and the pole of the\nchariot snapped in two. Then the barbarians took heart and turned, and\nsome of them set on to seize the body of the charioteer, and spoil his\narms. But the Wanderer leaped down and bestrode the corpse with shield\nup and spear aloft.\n\nNow among the press of the barbarians there was a stir, as of one\nthrusting his way through them to the front. And above the plumes of\ntheir helmets and the tossing of their shields the Wanderer saw the\ngolden head, unhelmeted, of a man, taller than the tallest there from\nthe shoulders upwards. Unhelmeted he came and unshielded, with no body\narmour. His flesh was very fair and white, and on it were figures\npricked in blue, figures of men and horses, snakes and sea-beasts. The\nskin of a white bear was buckled above his shoulder with a golden\nclasp, fashioned in the semblance of a boar. His eyes were blue, fierce\nand shining, and in his hand he held for a weapon the trunk of a young\npine-tree, in which was hafted a weighty axe-head of rough unpolished\nstone.\n\n\u201cGive way!\u201d he cried. \u201cGive place, ye dusky dwarfs, and let a man see\nthis champion!\u201d\n\nSo the barbarians made a circle about the Wanderer and the giant, and\nstood silently to watch a great fight.\n\n\u201cWho art thou?\u201d said the mighty man disdainfully, \u201cand whence? Where is\nthy city, and thy parents who begat thee?\u201d\n\n\u201cNow I will avow that men call me Odysseus, Sacker of Cities, Laertes\u2019\nson, a Prince of the Ach\u00e6ans,\u201d said the Wanderer. \u201cAnd who art thou, I\npray thee, and where is thy native place, for city, I wot, thou hast\nnone?\u201d\n\nThen the mighty man, swinging his great stone axe in a rhythmic motion,\nbegan to chant a rude lay, and this was the manner of the singing\u2014\n\n\u201cLaestrygons men\nAnd Cimmerians call us\nBorn of the land\nOf the sunless winter,\nBorn of the land\nOf the nightless summer:\nCityless, we,\nBeneath dark pine boughs,\nBy the sea abiding\nSail o\u2019er the swan\u2019s bath.\n_Wolf_ am I hight,\nThe son of Signy,\nSon of the were-wolf.\nSouthwards I sailed,\nSailed with the amber,\nSailed with the foam-wealth.\nAmong strange peoples,\nWinning me wave-flame,[*]\nWinning me war-fame,\nWinning me women.\nSoon shall I slay thee,\nSacker of Cities!\u201d\n\n[*] Gold.\n\n\nWith that, and with a cry, he rushed on the Wanderer, his great axe\nswung aloft, to fell him at a blow.\n\nBut while the giant had been singing, the Wanderer had shifted his\nplace a little, so that the red blaze of the setting sun was in his\nface. And as the mighty man came on, the Wanderer lifted up his golden\nshield and caught the sunlight on it, and flashed it full in the\ngiant\u2019s eyes, so that he was dazzled, and could not see to strike. Then\nthe Wanderer smote at his naked right arm, and struck it on the joint\nof the elbow; with all his force he smote, and the short sword of\nEuryalus bit deep, and the arm fell, with the axe in the hand-grip. But\nso terrible was the stroke that bronze might not abide it, and the\nblade was shattered from the ivory handle.\n\n\u201cDidst thou feel aught, thou Man-eater?\u201d cried Odysseus, jeering, for\nhe knew from the song of the giant that he was face to face with a\nwanderer from an evil race, that of old had smitten his ships and\ndevoured his men\u2014the Laestrygons of the land of the Midnight Sun, the\nMan-eaters.\n\nBut the giant caught up his club of pine-tree in his left hand, the\nsevered right arm still clinging to it. And he gnawed on the handle of\nthe stone axe with his teeth, and bit the very stone, and his lips\nfoamed, for a fury came upon him. Roaring aloud, suddenly he smote at\nthe Wanderer\u2019s head, and beat down his shield, and crushed his golden\nhelm so that he fell on one knee, and all was darkness around him. But\nhis hands lit on a great stone, for the place where they fought was the\nholy place of an ancient temple, old and ruined before King Mena\u2019s day.\nHe grasped the stone with both hands; it was the basalt head of a\nfallen statue of a God or a man, of a king long nameless, or of a\nforgotten God. With a mighty strain the Wanderer lifted it as he rose,\nit was a weight of a chariot\u2019s burden, and poising it, he hurled it\nstraight at the breast of the Laestrygon, who had drawn back, whirling\nhis axe, before he smote another blow. But ere ever the stroke fell,\nthe huge stone struck him full and broke in his breast bone, and he\nstaggered long, and fell like a tree, and the black blood came up\nthrough his bearded lips, and his life left him.\n\nThen the multitude of the barbarians that stood gazing at the fray drew\nyet further back in fear, and the Wanderer laughed like a God at that\nold score paid, and at the last great stroke of the hands of the\nCity-sacker, Odysseus.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\u201cTILL ODYSSEUS COMES!\u201d\n\n\nThe Wanderer laughed like a God, though he deemed that the end was\nnear, and the foes within the camp and the friends without looked on\nhim and wondered.\n\n\u201cSlay him!\u201d cried the foes within, speaking in many tongues. \u201cSlay\nhim!\u201d they cried, and yet they feared the task, but circled round like\nhounds about a mighty boar at bay.\n\n\u201cSpare him!\u201d shouted the host of the Ach\u00e6ans, watching the fray from\nfar, as they stood behind their inner wall, for as yet they had not\nmingled in the battle but stayed by their ships to guard them.\n\n\u201cRescue!\u201d cried the Captains of Pharaoh without, but none came on to\nforce the way.\n\nThen of a sudden, as Fate hung upon the turn, a great cry of fear and\nwonder rose from the ranks of Pharaoh\u2019s host beyond the wall. It\nswelled and swelled till at length the cry took the sound of a name\u2014the\nsound of the name of _Hathor_.\n\n\u201cThe Hathor! the Hathor! See, the Hathor comes!\u201d\n\nThe Wanderer turned his head and looked swiftly. A golden chariot sped\ndown the slope of sand towards the gate of the camp. The milk-white\nhorses were stained with sweat and splashed with blood. They thundered\non towards the gate down the way that was red with blood, as the horses\nof the dawn rush through the blood-red sky. A little man, withered and\nold, drove the chariot, leaning forward as he drove, and by his side\nstood the Golden Helen. The Red Star blazed upon her breast, her hair\nand filmy robes floated on the wind.\n\nShe looked up and forth. Now she saw him, Odysseus of Ithaca, her love,\nalone, beset with foes, and a cry broke from her. She tore away the\nveil that hid her face, and her beauty flashed out upon the sight of\nmen as the moon flashes from the evening mists. She pointed to the\ngate, she stretched out her arms towards the host of Pharaoh, bidding\nthem look upon her and follow her. Then a shout went up from the host,\nand they rushed onwards in the path of the chariot, for where the Helen\nleads there men must follow through Life to Death, through War to\nPeace.\n\nOn the chariot rushed to the camp, and after it the host of Pharaoh\nfollowed. The holders of the gate saw the beauty of her who rode in the\nchariot; they cried aloud in many tongues that the Goddess of Love had\ncome to save the God of War. They fled this way and that, or stood\ndrunken with the sight of beauty, and were dashed down by the horses\nand crushed of the chariot wheels. Now she had passed the gates, and\nafter her poured the host of Pharaoh. Now Rei reined up the horses by\nthe broken chariot of the Wanderer, and now the Wanderer, with a shout\nof joy, had sprung into the chariot of Helen.\n\n\u201cAnd art thou come to be with me in my last battle?\u201d he whispered in\nher ear. \u201cArt thou indeed that Argive Helen whom I love, or am I drunk\nwith the blood of men and blind with the sheen of spears, and is this\nthe vision of a man doomed to die?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is no vision, Odysseus, for I am Helen\u2019s self,\u201d she answered\ngently. \u201cI have learned all the truth, and knowing thy fault, count it\nbut a little thing. Yet because thou didst forget the words of the\nimmortal Goddess, who, being my foe now and for ever, set this cunning\nsnare for thee, the doom is on thee, that Helen shall not be thine in\nthis space of life. For thou fightest in thy last battle, Odysseus. On!\nsee thy hosts clamour to be led, and there the foe hangs black as storm\nand shoots out the lightning of his spears. On, Odysseus, on! that the\ndoom may be accomplished, and the word of the Ghost fulfilled!\u201d\n\nThen the Wanderer turned and called to the Captains, and the Captains\ncalled to the soldiers and set them in array, and following the\nblood-red Star they rolled down upon the gathered foe as the tide rolls\nupon the rocks when the breath of the gale is strong; and as the waters\nleap and gather till the rocks are lost in the surge, so the host of\nPharaoh leapt upon the foe and swallowed them up. And ever in the\nforefront of the war blazed the Red Star on Helen\u2019s breast, and ever\nthe sound of her singing pierced the din of death.\n\nNow the host of the Nine-bow barbarians was utterly destroyed, and the\nhost of Pharaoh came up against the wall that was set about the camp of\nthe Ach\u00e6ans to guard their ships, and at its head came the golden\nchariot wherein were the Wanderer and Helen. The Captains of the\nAch\u00e6ans looked wondering from their wall, watching the slaughter of\ntheir allies.\n\n\u201cNow, who is this?\u201d cried a Captain, \u201cwho is this clad in golden armour\nfashioned like our own, who leads the host of Pharaoh to victory?\u201d\n\nThen a certain aged leader of men looked forth and answered:\n\n\u201cSuch armour I have known indeed, and such a man once wore it. The\narmour is fashioned like the armour of Paris, Priam\u2019s son\u2014Paris of\nIlios; but Paris hath long been dead.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd who is she,\u201d cried the Captain, \u201cshe on whose breast a Red Star\nburns, who rides in the chariot of him with the golden armour, whose\nshape is the shape of Beauty, and who sings aloud while men go down to\ndeath?\u201d\n\nThen the aged leader of men looked forth again and answered:\n\n\u201cSuch a one have I known, indeed; so she was wont to sing, and hers was\nsuch a shape of beauty, and such a Star shone ever on her breast. Helen\nof Ilios\u2014Argive Helen it was who wore it\u2014Helen, because of whose\nloveliness the world grew dark with death; but long is Helen dead.\u201d\n\nNow the Wanderer glanced from his chariot and saw the crests of the\nAch\u00e6ans and the devices on the shields of men with whose fathers he had\nfought beneath the walls of Ilios. He saw and his heart was stirred\nwithin him, so that he wept there in the chariot.\n\n\u201cAlas! for the fate that is on me,\u201d he cried, \u201cthat I must make my last\nbattle in the service of a stranger against my own people and the\nchildren of my own dear friends.\u201d\n\n\u201cWeep not, Odysseus,\u201d said Helen, \u201cfor Fate drives thee on\u2014Fate that is\ncruel and changeless, and heeds not the loves or hates of men. Weep\nnot, Odysseus, but go on up against the Ach\u00e6ans, for from among them\nthy death comes.\u201d\n\nSo the Wanderer went on, sick at heart, shooting no shafts and striking\nno blow, and after him came the remnant of the host of Pharaoh. Then he\nhalted the host, and at his bidding Rei drove slowly down the wall\nseeking a place to storm it, and as he drove they shot at the chariot\nfrom the wall with spears and slings and arrows. But not yet was the\nWanderer doomed. He took no hurt, nor did any hurt come to Rei nor to\nthe horses that drew the chariot, and as for Helen, the shafts of Death\nknew her and turned aside. Now while they drove thus Rei told the\nWanderer of the death of Pharaoh, of the burning of the Temple of\nHathor, and of the flight of Helen. The Wanderer hearkened and said but\none thing, for in all this he saw the hand of Fate.\n\n\u201cIt is time to make an end, Rei, for soon will Meriamun be seeking us,\nand methinks that I have left a trail that she can follow,\u201d and he\nnodded at the piled-up dead that stretched further than the eye could\nreach.\n\nNow they were come over against that spot in the wall where stood the\naged Captain of the Ach\u00e6ans, who had likened the armour of the Wanderer\nto the armour of Paris, and the beauty of her at his side to the beauty\nof Argive Helen.\n\nThe Captain loosed his bow at the chariot, and leaning forward watched\nthe flight of the shaft. It rushed straight at Helen\u2019s breast, then of\na sudden turned aside, harming her not. And as he marvelled she lifted\nher face and looked towards him. Then he saw and knew her for that\nHelen whom he had seen while he served with Cretan Idomeneus in the\nArgive ships, when the leaguer was done and the smoke went up from\nburning Ilios.\n\nAgain he looked, and lo! on the Wanderer\u2019s golden shield he saw the\nWhite Bull, the device of Paris, son of Priam, as ofttimes he had seen\nit glitter on the walls of Troy. Then great fear took him, and he\nlifted up his hands and cried aloud:\n\n\u201cFly, ye Ach\u00e6ans! Fly! Back to your curved ships and away from this\naccursed land. For yonder in the chariot stands Argive Helen, who is\nlong dead, and with her Paris, son of Priam, come to wreak the woes of\nIlios on the sons of those who wasted her. Fly, ere the curse smite\nyou.\u201d\n\nThen a great cry of fear rose from the host of the Ach\u00e6ans, as company\ncalled to company that the ghosts of Paris of Ilios and Argive Helen\nled the armies of Pharaoh on to victory. A moment they gazed as\nfrightened sheep gaze upon the creeping wolves, then turning from the\nwall, they rushed headlong to their ships.\n\nBehind them came the soldiers of Pharaoh, storming the walls and\ntearing at their flanks as wolves tear the flying sheep. Then the\nAch\u00e6ans turned at bay, and a mighty fray raged round the ships, and the\nknees of many were loosened. And of the ships, some were burned and\nsome were left upon the bank. But a remnant of them were pushed off\ninto the deep water, and hung there on their oars waiting for the end\nof the fray.\n\nNow the sun was gone down, so that men could scarce see to slay each\nother. The Wanderer stood his chariot on the bank, watching the battle,\nfor he was weary, and had little mind to swell the slaughter of the\npeople of his own land.\n\nNow the last ship was pushed off, and at length the great battle was\ndone. But among those on the ship was a man still young, and the\ngoodliest and mightiest among all the host of the Ach\u00e6ans. By his own\nstrength and valour he had held the Egyptians back while his comrades\nran the curved ship down the beach, and the Wanderer, looking on him,\ndeemed him their hardiest warrior and most worthy of the Ach\u00e6ans.\n\nHe stood upon the poop of the ship, and saw the light from the burning\nvessels gleam on the Wanderer\u2019s golden helm. Then of a sudden he drew a\nmighty bow and loosed an arrow charged with death.\n\n\u201cThis gift to the Ghost of Paris from Telegonus, son of Circe and of\nOdysseus, who was Paris\u2019 foe,\u201d he cried with a loud voice.\n\nAnd as he cried it, and as the fateful words struck on the ears of\nOdysseus and the ears of Helen, the shaft, pointed by the Gods, rushed\non. It rushed on, it smote the Wanderer with a deadly wound where the\ngolden body-plate of his harness joined the taslets, and pierced him\nthrough. Then he knew that his fate was accomplished, and that death\ncame upon him from the water, as the ghost of Tiresias in Hades had\nforetold. In his pain, for the last time of all, he let fall his shield\nand the black bow of Eurytus. With one hand he clasped the rail of the\nchariot and the other he threw about the neck of the Golden Helen, who\nbent beneath his weight like a lily before the storm. Then he also\ncried aloud in answer:\n\n\u201cOh, Telegonus, son of Circe, what wickedness hast thou wrought before\nthe awful Gods that this curse should have been laid upon thee to slay\nhim who begat thee? Hearken, thou son of Circe, I am not Paris, I am\nOdysseus of Ithaca, who begat thee, and thou hast brought my death upon\nme from the water, as the Ghost foretold.\u201d\n\nWhen Telegonus heard these words, and knew that he had slain his\nfather, the famed Odysseus, whom he had sought the whole world through,\nhe would have cast himself into the river, there to drown, but those\nwith him held him by strength, and the stream took the curved ship and\nfloated it away. And thus for the first and last time did the Gods give\nit to Telegonus to look upon the face and hear the voice of his father,\nOdysseus.\n\nBut when the Ach\u00e6ans knew that it was the lost Odysseus who had led the\nhost of Pharaoh against the armies of the Nine Nations, they wondered\nno more at the skill of the ambush and the greatness of the victory of\nPharaoh.\n\nNow the chariots of Meriamun were pursuing, and they splashed through\nthe blood of men in the pass, and rolled over the bodies of men in the\nplain beyond the pass. They came to the camps and found them peopled\nwith dead, and lit with the lamps of the blazing ships of the\nAquaiusha. Then Meriamun cried aloud:\n\n\u201cSurely Pharaoh grew wise before he died, for there is but one man on\nthe earth who with so small a force could have won so great a fray. He\nhath saved the crown of Khem, and by Osiris he shall wear it.\u201d\n\nNow the chariots of Meriamun had passed the camp of the barbarians, and\nwere come to the inner camp of the Ach\u00e6ans, and the soldiers shouted as\nshe came driving furiously.\n\nThe Wanderer lay dying on the ground, there by the river-bank, and the\nlight of the burning ships flamed on his golden armour, and on the Star\nat Helen\u2019s breast.\n\n\u201cWhy do the soldiers shout?\u201d he asked, lifting his head from Helen\u2019s\nbreast.\n\n\u201cThey shout because Meriamun the Queen is come,\u201d Rei answered.\n\n\u201cLet her come,\u201d said the Wanderer.\n\nNow Meriamun sprang from her chariot and walked, through the soldiers\nwho made way, bowing before her royalty, to where the Wanderer lay, and\nstood speechless looking on him.\n\nBut the Wanderer lifting his head spake faintly:\n\n\u201cHail! O Queen!\u201d he said, \u201cI have accomplished the charge that Pharaoh\nlaid upon me. The host of the Nine-bow barbarians is utterly destroyed,\nthe fleet of the Aquaiusha is burned, or fled, the land of Khem is free\nfrom foes. Where is Pharaoh, that I may make report to him ere I die?\u201d\n\n\u201cPharaoh is dead, Odysseus,\u201d she answered. \u201cOh, live on! live on! and\nthyself thou shalt be Pharaoh.\u201d\n\n\u201cAy, Meriamun the Queen,\u201d answered the Wanderer, \u201cI know all. The\nPharaoh is dead! Thou didst slay Pharaoh, thinking thus to win me for\nthy Lord, me, who am won of Death. Heavily shall the blood of Pharaoh\nlie upon thee in that land whither I go, Meriamun, and whither thou\nmust follow swiftly. Thou didst slay Pharaoh, and Helen, who through\nthy guile is lost to me, thou wouldst have slain also, but thou couldst\nnot harm her immortality. And now I die, and this is the end of all\nthese Loves and Wars and Wanderings. My death has come upon me from the\nwater.\u201d\n\nMeriamun stood speechless, for her heart was torn in two, so that in\nher grief she forgot even her rage against Helen and Rei the Priest.\n\nThen Helen spoke. \u201cThou diest indeed, Odysseus, yet it is but for a\nlittle time, for thou shalt come again and find me waiting.\u201d\n\n\u201cAy, Odysseus,\u201d said the Queen, \u201cand I also will come again, and thou\nshalt love me then. Oh, now the future opens, and I know the things\nthat are to be. Beneath the Wings of Truth shall we meet again,\nOdysseus.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere shall we meet again, Odysseus, and there thou shalt draw the\nVeil of Truth,\u201d said the Helen.\n\n\u201cYea,\u201d quoth the dying Wanderer; \u201cthere or otherwhere shall we meet\nagain, and there and otherwhere love and hate shall lose and win, and\ndie to arise again. But not yet is the struggle ended that began in\nother worlds than this, and shall endure till evil is lost in good, and\ndarkness swallowed up in light. Bethink thee, Meriamun, of that vision\nof thy bridal night, and read its riddle. Lo! I will answer it with my\nlast breath as the Gods have given me wisdom. When we three are once\nmore twain, then shall our sin be purged and peace be won, and the veil\nbe drawn from the face of Truth. Oh, Helen, fare thee well! I have\nsinned against thee, I have sworn by the Snake who should have sworn by\nthe Star, and therefore I have lost thee.\u201d\n\n\u201cThou hast but lost to find again beyond the Gateways of the West,\u201d she\nanswered low.\n\nThen she bent down, and taking him in her arms, kissed him, whispering\nin his ear, and the blood of men that fell ever from the Star upon her\nbreast, dropped like dew upon his brow, and vanished as it dropped.\n\nAnd as she whispered of joy to be, and things too holy to be written,\nthe face of the Wanderer grew bright, like the face of a God.\n\nThen suddenly his head fell back, and he was dead, dead upon the heart\nof the World\u2019s Desire. For thus was fulfilled the oath of Idalian\nAphrodite, and thus at the last did Odysseus lie in the arms of the\nGolden Helen.\n\nNow Meriamun clasped her breast, and her lips turned white with pain.\nBut Helen rose, and standing at the Wanderer\u2019s head looked on Meriamun,\nwho stood at his feet.\n\n\u201cMy sister,\u201d said Helen to the Queen; \u201csee now the end of all. He whom\nwe loved is lost to us, and what hast thou gained? Nay, look not so\nfiercely on me. I may not be harmed of thee, as thou hast seen, and\nthou mayest not be harmed of me, who would harm none, though ever thou\nwilt hate me who hate thee not, and till thou learnest to love me, Sin\nshall be thy portion and Bitterness thy comfort.\u201d\n\nBut Meriamun spoke no word.\n\nThen Helen beckoned to Rei and spake to him, and Rei went weeping to do\nher bidding.\n\nPresently he returned again, and with him were soldiers bearing\ntorches. The soldiers lifted up the body of the Wanderer, and bore it\nto a mighty pyre that was built up of the wealth of the barbarians, of\nchariots, spears, and the oars of ships, of wondrous fabrics, and\ncostly furniture. And they laid the Wanderer on the pyre, and on his\nbreast they laid the black bow of Eurytus.\n\nThen Helen spoke to Rei once more, and Rei took a torch and fired the\npyre so that smoke and flame burst from it. And all the while Meriamun\nstood by as one who dreams.\n\nNow the great pyre was a mass of flame, and the golden armour of the\nWanderer shone through the flame, and the black bow twisted and\ncrumbled in the heat. Then of a sudden Meriamun gave a great cry, and\ntearing the snake girdle from her middle hurled it on the flames.\n\n\u201cFrom fire thou camest, thou Ancient Evil,\u201d she said in a dead tongue;\n\u201cto fire get thee back again, false counsellor.\u201d\n\nBut Rei the Priest called aloud in the same tongue:\n\n\u201cAn ill deed thou hast done, O Queen, for thou hast taken the Snake to\nthy bosom, and where the Snake passes there thou must follow.\u201d\n\nEven as he spoke the face of Meriamun grew fixed, and she was drawn\nslowly towards the fire, as though by invisible hands. Now she stood on\nits very brink, and now with one loud wail she plunged into it and cast\nherself at length on the body of the Wanderer.\n\nAnd as she lay there on the body, behold the Snake awoke in the fire.\nIt awoke, it grew, it twined itself about the body of Meriamun and the\nbody of the Wanderer, and lifting its head, it laughed.\n\nThen the fire fell in, and the Wanderer and Meriamun the Queen, and the\nSnake that wrapped them round, vanished in the heart of the flames.\n\nFor awhile the Golden Helen stood still, looking on the dying fire.\nThen she let her veil fall, and turning, wandered forth into the desert\nand the night, singing as she passed.\n\nAnd so she goes, wandering, wandering, till Odysseus comes again.\n\nNow this is the tale that I, Rei the Priest, have been bidden to set\nforth before I lay me down to sleep in my splendid tomb that I have\nmade ready by Thebes. Let every man read it as he will, and every woman\nas the Gods have given her wit.\n\nTHE END\n\n\nPALINODE\n\n\nThou that of old didst blind Stesichorus,\nIf e\u2019er, sweet Helen, such a thing befell,\nWe pray thee of thy grace, be good to us,\nThough little in our tale accordeth well\nWith that thine ancient minstrel had to tell,\nWho saw, with sightless eyes grown luminous,\nThese Ilian sorrows, and who heard the swell\nOf ocean round the world ring thunderous,\nAnd thy voice break when knightly Hector fell!\n\nAnd thou who all these many years hast borne\nTo see the great webs of the weaving torn\nBy puny hands of dull, o\u2019er-learned men,\nHomer, forgive us that thy hero\u2019s star\nOnce more above sea waves and waves of war,\nMust rise, must triumph, and must set again!","title":"The World's Desire","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":86060}