Queen of the Dawn: A Love Tale of Old Egypt
“Yes, there is plenty to be done,” he answered as she fled back through the curtains.
The Queen woke at her step.
“Your gods have not come, Kemmah,” she said, “or given any sign. So I suppose it is fated that we should stop here.”
“I think that the gods – or devils – are coming, Queen. Now off with those robes and be swift. Nay, talk not, I pray, but do as I bid you.”
Rima glanced at her face and obeyed. Within a very little time, all being prepared to their hands, the three of them were changed into farmer women and a farmer’s babe. Then Kemmah took a sack and thrust into it all the ancient priceless jewels, the regalia of the old Pharaohs of Egypt, and these were not few; also a sum in gold.
“This gear of crowns and sceptres and gems and gold which you have got together so carefully will be too heavy for us to carry, Kemmah, who have that which is more precious to bear between us,” and she glanced at the child.
“There is one yonder who will carry it, Queen, one who carried something else on his shoulder out of the battle. Or if he cannot, then I think it will not matter who takes the gathered wealth of the Pharaohs of the South.”
“You mean that our lives are at hazard, Kemmah?”
“That is what I mean, no less.”
Rima’s beautiful but sorrow-stricken face and eyes seemed to take fire.
“I would that they might be lost,” she said. “Have you ever thought, Friend, of the wonderful things that may lie behind the gates of death, the glories and the harmonies and the eternities, or failing these, the rich darkness of everlasting sleep? Life! I weary of life and would put all to the hazard. Yet there is the babe born of my body, the Royal Princess of Egypt, and for her sake – ”
“Yes,” said the quiet Kemmah, “for her sake!”
There came a thunder of noise upon the door beyond the curtains.
“Open!” shouted voices.
“Open for yourselves. But know that death waits those who would violate her Majesty of Egypt,” answered the deep guttural voice of Ru.
“We come to take the Queen and the Princess to those who will guard them well,” cried one without.
“What better guard can they have than death?” asked Ru in answer.
There was a pause. Then came blows upon the door, heavy blows as of axes, but still it held. Another pause and a tree trunk or some such weighty thing was brought and driven against it, and presently with a crash it fell, burst from its hinges. Rima seized the child and ran into the shadows. Kemmah leapt to the curtains and stood there looking between them, the spear she carried raised in her right hand. This was what she saw.
The giant Nubian stood on the topmost stair in the shadow, for the light of the lamps in the niches struck forward. In his right hand he held a javelin, in his left he grasped the handle of his battle-axe and a small shield made of the hide of a river horse. Grim and terrible looked the Ethiopian giant outlined thus against the shadow.
A tall man with a sword in his hand scrambled over the fallen door, the moonlight shining on his armour. The javelin flashed and the man fell in a heap, his mail clattering upon the bronze hinges of the door. He was dragged aside. Others rushed in, a number of them. Ru shifted his battle-axe into his right hand, lifted it, leaned forward and waited, advancing the shield to cover his head. Blows fell upon the shield. Then the axe crashed down and a man sank in a heap. Ru began to sing some wild Ethiopian war chant and as he sang he smote, and as he smote men died beneath the blows of that terrible axe driven with the weight of his mighty arm. Yet they pressed forward, for they were desperate. Death might be in front of them, but if they failed death was also behind at the hands of their confederates.
The stair was too wide for Ru to cover. One ran under his arm and appeared between the curtains, where he stood staring. Kemmah saw his face. It was that of a great Theban lord who had fought with Kheperra in the battle and now had been suborned by the Shepherds. Rage seized her. She sprang at him and with all her strength drove the spear she held through his throat. He fell, gasping. She stamped upon his face, crying, “Die, dog! Die, traitor!” and die he did.
On the stairway the blows grew fewer. Presently Ru appeared, laughing and red with blood.
“All are dead,” he cried, “save one who fled. But where is the knave who slipped past me?”
“Here,” answered Kemmah, pointing to a still form in the shadows.
“Good. Very good!” said Ru. “Now I think better of women than ever I did before. Yet, hurry, hurry! One dog has escaped and he goes to call the pack. What is that? Wine? Give me to drink. Aye, give me wine and a cloak to cover me. I am no seemly sight for queens to look on.”
“Are you hurt?” said Kemmah as she brought the goblet.
“Nay, not a scratch; still no seemly sight, though the blood be that of traitors. Here’s to the gods of vengeance! Here’s to the hell that holds them! This garment is scant for one of my size, but it will serve. What’s that sack you drag to me?”
“No matter what it is. Carry it, Ru. You are no warrior now, you are a porter. Carry it, O glorious Ru, and lose it not, for in it lie the crowns of Egypt. Come, Queen, the road is clear, thanks to the axe of Ru.”
Rima came, bearing her babe, and at the sight of the red stair and of those who lay upon it or at its foot, shrank back and said in a wavering voice, for she was almost bemused with doubts and terror:
“Is this the message of your gods, Kemmah?” and she pointed to the stains upon the floor and walls. “And are these their messengers? Look at them! I know their faces. They were the friends and captains of dead Kheperra, my lord. Why, O Ru, do you slay the friends of him who was Pharaoh, who came here doubtless to lead me and his child to safety?”
“Aye, Queen,” said Kemmah, “to the safety of death or of the prison of Apepi.”
“I’ll not believe it, woman, nor will I go with you,” said Rima, stamping her foot. “Fly if you will, as well you may do with all this blood upon your hands; here I stay with my child.”
Kemmah glanced at her, then as though in thought she looked down at the ground while Ru whispered in her ear:
“Command me and I will carry her.”
The eyes of Kemmah fell upon that great lord whom she had slain with her own hand, and she noted that from beneath his breastplate there projected the end of a papyrus roll that had been thrust upwards when he fell. She bent down and took it. Opening it swiftly she read, as she who was learned could do well enough. It was addressed to the dead man and his companions and sealed with the seals of the high priest and others. This was the writing:
“In the names of all the gods and for the welfare of Egypt, we command you to take Rima the Babylonian, wife of the good god Pharaoh who is not, and her child, the Royal Princess Nefra, and to bring them to us, living if may be, that they may be delivered to King Apepi in fulfilment of our oath. Read and obey.”
“Can you read the Egyptian writing, Queen?” asked Kemmah. “If so, herein is a matter that concerns you.”
“Read you. I have little skill,” answered Rima indifferently.
So she read, slowly, that the words might sink into the mind of the Queen.
Rima heard and leaned against her, trembling.
“Why did I ever come to this land of traitors?” she moaned. “Oh! would that I were dead.”
“As you will be if you stay here longer, Queen,” said Kemmah bitterly. “Meanwhile it is the traitors who are dead, or some of them, and now tell their tale to Kheperra, your lord and mine. Come. Come swiftly, there are more villains left in Thebes.”
But Rima sank to the ground, swooning. As she fell Kemmah snatched the child from her and looked at Ru.
“It is good,” said the giant. “Now she can talk no more and I will carry her. But what of that sack? Must we leave it behind? Life is more than crowns.”
“Nay, Ru, set it on my head, for thus peasants bear their burdens. I can hold it with my left hand and clasp the child with my right.”
He did so and lifted the Queen in his great arms.
Thus they passed down the stair, stepping over the dead and out into the night.
Across the open space they went, heading for the palm trees of the garden. The babe wailed feebly but Kemmah stifled its cries beneath her cloak. The weight of the treasures in the sack pressed her down and the sharp edges of the jewelled crowns and sceptres cut into her brow. Still she staggered on bravely. They reached the shadow of the palms where she paused for a moment to look back and get her breath. Behold! Men – numbers of them – were running toward the doors of the private apartments.
“We did not leave too soon. Forward!” said Ru.
On they went, till at length before them in the glade they saw the ruined shrine. Kemmah staggered to it and sank to her knees, for she was spent.
“Now, unless help comes, there is an end,” said Ru. “Two half-dead women I might carry, also the sack upon my head. But how about the babe? Nay, that babe is the Princess of Egypt. Whoever dies, she must be saved.”
“Aye,” said Kemmah faintly. “Leave me, it matters not, but save the child. Take her and her mother and go to the quay. Perchance the boat is there.”
“Perchance it is not,” grumbled Ru, staring about him.
Then help came. For as before from behind a palm appeared the sailor Tau.
“You are somewhat early, Lady Kemmah,” he said, “but fortunately so am I and so is the down Nile wind. At least here you are, all three of you. But who is this?” and he stared at the giant Nubian.
“One who can be vouched for,” answered Ru. “If you doubt it, go look at the stair of the royal apartments. One, too, who, if there be need, can break your bones as a slave breaks sticks.”
“That I can well believe,” said Tau, “but of bone-breaking we can talk afterwards. Now follow me, and swiftly.”
Then he threw the sack over his shoulder, and putting his arm about Kemmah, supported her forward to the quay.
At the foot of the steps was a boat, and at a distance on the Nile appeared a ship riding at anchor, her sail half hoisted. They entered the boat, and seizing the oars Tau rowed them to the ship. A rope was cast which he caught and made fast to the prow of the boat, drawing on it till they came alongside the ship. Hands were stretched out to help them; soon they were all aboard.
“Up anchor!” cried Tau, “and hoist the sail.”
“We hear you, Lord,” answered a voice.
Three minutes later that ship was gliding down the Nile before the strong south wind. Nor was it too soon, for as they passed silently into the night they caught sight of men, some of whom bore lanterns, searching the palm grove that they had left. They laid the women and the child in the cabin. Then Tau said:
“Now, Breaker of Bones, you may have a tale to tell me, and perchance a cup of wine and a bite of food will loose your tongue.”
Thus did Queen Rima, Nefra, Royal Princess of Egypt, and Lady Kemmah and Ru the Ethiopian escape from Thebes and from the hands of traitors.
Chapter 4
The Temple of the Sphinx
For day after day the ship of Tau journeyed on down Nile. At night, or when the wind would not serve, it was tied up to the bank, always in as uninhabited a place as might be but never near a town. Twice this happened in the neighbourhood of great temples that had been wrecked by the Shepherds in the first fury of their invasion and not as yet repaired. Yet after it was dark, out of these desolated fanes or of the sepulchres around them issued men who brought food and other things to sell, but who from the signs that they made, Kemmah, being initiated, well knew to be priests, though of what faith she did not know. These men would talk with Tau apart, showing him much reverence, then on this pretext or on that he would bring them into the cabin where the infant princess lay asleep, whom they would look upon fearfully, and even adore upon their bended knees as though she were divine; then rising, depart blessing her in the names of the gods they worshipped. Moreover, never did they seem to take payment for the food they brought.
All of these things Kemmah noted, as did Ru, although he appeared so simple, but of them Rima the Queen took but little heed. Ever since her lord the Pharaoh Kheperra had been slain in the battle, her spirit had left her, and the discovery of the treason of the lords who had been his counsellors and generals, whereof Ru had slain six and Kemmah one in the fight upon the stairs of the Theban palace, seemed to have crushed her very soul so that now she cared for nothing save to nurse her child.
When she woke from her swoon to find herself upon the ship she asked few questions and from Ru she shrank, although she loved him well, saying that he smelt of blood. Nor would she speak much to Tau because, as she declared, she trusted no man any more. To Kemmah only did she talk freely at times, and then mostly as to how she might escape out of this accursed Egypt with her child, back to her royal father, the King of Babylon.
“So far the gods of Egypt have not served you so ill, Queen,” said the Lady Kemmah, “seeing that they brought you and that Royal One” – and she waved her hand toward the babe – ”out of the net of traitors, and when escape seemed impossible, safe on to this ship, doing this after you had declared that you had no faith in them.”
“Mayhap, Kemmah. Yet those gods decreed that my royal husband should be killed and that those whom he and I trusted should prove themselves the foulest of all men who sought to betray his wife and child into the hands of enemies, whence we were saved only by your wit and the strength and courage of an Ethiopian. Also it is not for me, a stranger, that they work, but for Egypt’s royal seed that was born of my body. Nor is this to be wondered at, seeing, although as Pharaoh’s wife I made offerings upon their altars, they are no gods of mine. I tell you that I would get me back to Babylon and ere I die bow my knee again in the temples of my forefathers. Take me back to Babylon, Kemmah, where men are not traitors to the bread they eat and do not strive to sell the seed of those who died for them into captivity or death.”
“This I will do if I may,” answered Kemmah, “but alas! Babylon is far off and all the lands between are ablaze with war. Therefore take heart, Queen, and wait with patience.”
“I have no heart left,” answered Rima, “who desire but one thing – to find my lord again whether he sits at the table of your Osiris, or rides the clouds with Bel, or sleeps in the deep darkness. Where he is, there would I be and nowhere else, and least of all in this accursed Egypt. Give me my child to nurse, that I may hold her while I may. We love that most that we must leave the soonest, Kemmah.”
Then Kemmah gave her the babe and turned away to hide her tears, since she was sure that sorrow was eating out the life of this bereaved widow and daughter of kings.
Once when they were off Memphis which they strove to pass at early dawn before men were abroad, there was danger. Officers came to their ship from a boat, bidding it lie to, a command that Tau thought it best to obey.
“Now play your parts well,” he said to Kemmah, “remembering that you are my sister and that the Queen is my wife who lies sick. Go tell her to forget her woes and be as crafty as a serpent. As for you, Ru, hide that great axe of yours, though where you can find it easily, remembering that you are a slave whom I bought for a great sum in Thebes that I may make money by showing off your strength in market-places, and that you can talk little or no Egyptian.”
The boat came alongside. In it were two officers, young men who seemed to be sleepy, for they yawned, and a common fellow who rowed it. The two officers climbed to the deck and asked for the captain. Tau appeared, very roughly clad, and in a coarse voice inquired of their business.
“It is your business that we want to know, Sailor,” said one of the officers.
“That is easy to tell, sir. I am a trader who take corn up Nile and bring cattle down. There are a number of calves forward there, bred by the best southern bulls. Are you perchance buyers? If so, you might like to look at them. There is one that has the ‘apis’ marks upon it, or something of the kind.”
“Do we look like cattle dealers?” asked the officer haughtily. “Show me your writings.”
“Here they are, sir,” and Tau produced a papyrus sealed by the trade masters at Memphis and other cities.
“A wife and child, a sister – which means another wife grown old – and so many crew. Well, we seek two women and a child, so perhaps we had better see them.”
“Is it necessary?” asked the other. “This does not look like a queen’s warship such as we were told to search for, and the stench of those calves is horrible after a night of feasting.”
“Warship, sir? Did you talk of a warship? Well, there is one following us down the river. We saw her once, but being of such deep draught, she got stuck on a sand bank so that I do not know when she will reach Memphis. She seemed to be a very fine ship with a multitude of armed men on board of her. But it was said that she was going to stop at Siout, the frontier city of the South, or what used to be its frontier city before we beat those proud-stomached Southerns. But come and look at the women, if you will; come and look at them.”
This information about the warship seemed to interest the two officers so much that they followed Tau thinking little of the two women. He took a lantern and thrust it through the curtains into the cabin, saying;
“May an evil spirit take this thing! How badly it burns.”
“An evil stink has taken it already,” answered one of the officers, pinching his nostrils between his finger and thumb as he peered between the curtains. In the low light the place was very dark and all that the officers could see was Kemmah in dirty garments seated on a sack – little did they know that this sack contained the ancient and priceless royal ornaments of Upper Egypt – and engaged in mixing milk and water in a gourd, while beyond on a couch lay a woman with dishevelled hair and holding a bundle to her breast.
Just then the lantern went out and Tau began to talk of finding oil to relight it.
“It is needless, Friend,” said the chief officer, “I think that we have seen enough. Pursue your voyage in peace and sell the calves at the best price you can get.”
Then he turned to the deck where, as ill luck would have it, he caught sight of Ru squatted on the boards and trying to look as small as he could.
“That is a big black man,” he said. “Now did not some spy send a message about a Negro who killed many of our friends up yonder? Stand up, fellow.”
Tau translated, or seemed to do so, and Ru stood up, rolling his big eyes till the white showed and grinning all over a silly face.
“Ah!” said the officer, “a very big man. By the gods! what a chest and arms. Now, Captain, who is this giant and what are you doing with him on board your trading boat?”
“Lords,” answered Tau, “he is a venture of mine in which I have put most of my savings. He is mighty and performs feats of strength, for the sight of which I hope to get much money down in Tanis.”
“Does he?” said the officer, much interested but with suspicion. “Well, fellow, perform a feat of strength.”
Ru shook his head vaguely.
“He does not understand your tongue, sir, who is an Ethiopian. Stay, I will tell him.”
Then he began to address Ru in unknown words. Ru woke up and nodded, grinning. Next instant he sprang at the two officers, seized one of them with either hand by the neckbands of their garments and lifted them from the deck as though they had been infants. Next, roaring with laughter, he stepped to the side of the ship and held them out over the Nile as though he were about to drop them into the water. The officers shouted, Tau swore and tried to drag him back, yelling orders into his ear. Ru turned round astonished, still holding the two men in the air before him and looking at the belly of the ship as though he meant to throw them into it.
At length he seemed to understand and dropped them to the deck, on which they fell flat.
“That is one of his favourite tricks, sirs,” said Tau as he helped them to their feet. “He is so strong that he can carry a third man in his teeth.”
“Is it?” said an officer. “Well, we have had enough of your savage and his tricks, who, I think, will land you in prison before you have done with him. Keep him off now while we get into the boat.”
Thus was the ship of Tau searched by the officers of Apepi.
When the boat had gone and once more the ship was slipping past the quays of Memphis unobserved in the mists drawn by the rising sun from the river, Ru came near to the tiller and said:
“I think, Lord Tau, for a lord or count I hold you to be, although it pleases you to pass as the owner of a small trading boat, that you would have done well to let me drop those two fine fellows into the Nile that tells no stories of those it buries. By and by it will be found that there is no warship such as you talked of so wonderfully, and then -?”
“And then, Breaker of Bones, it may go hard with those officers who chattered of such a ship like finches in the reeds and while they did so let the real prize slip through their fingers. For this, indeed, I am sorry, since those young men were not bad fellows in their way. As for dropping them into the Nile, it might have been well enough, though cruel, had there not been a witness. What would that boatman who rowed them to the ship have reported when he found that they returned from it no more?”
“You are clever,” said Ru admiringly. “I never thought of that.”
“No, Ru. If my brain were added to your brute strength and uninstructed honesty, why, you would rule the world of brutes. But they are not, and therefore you must be content to serve in the yoke, like a bull, which is as strong as you are, or stronger.”
“If it is brains that make a difference, why do you not rule, Lord Tau, who are also a likely man though not so big as I am? Why are you carrying fugitives upon a dirty little merchant ship instead of sitting upon a Pharaoh’s throne? Tell me, who am but a simple black man bred to war and honesty.”
Tau with much skill steered his ship through a fleet of barges poling up Nile laden with fodder. Then calling to a sailor to take his place, for now the river was open with no craft in sight, he sat himself down in the low bulwark, and answered:
“Because mayhap, friend Ru, I also choose to serve. Being stupid, like most honest men, especially if they are strong and one of a simple race that understands nothing except love from which is born mankind, and war that keeps down its numbers, you may not believe me when I tell you that the only true joy in life lies in service of this sort or of that. Pharaohs are served, which is why they are often so blind and so satisfied at being but vain bubbles blown along by a wind they cannot see, springing, although they know it not, from the poisoned breaths of multitudes; for the most part they do more harm than good and are themselves the slaves of slaves. With him who serves it is otherwise, for, setting aside self-seekings and ambitions, he works humbly for that which is good and in this work finds his reward.”
Ru rubbed his brow, then asked:
“But whom does such an one serve, Lord?”
“He serves God, Ru.”
“God? There are many gods that I have heard of in Ethiopia, in Egypt, and in other lands. What god does he serve and where does he find that god?”
“He finds him in his own heart, Ru, but what his name may be I cannot tell you. Some call it Justice, some call it Freedom, some call it Hope, some call it Spirit.”
“And what do those call it who serve only themselves and their own lusts, careless of all those fine things, Lord?”
“I do not know, Ru, and yet I know that name. It is Death.”
“Yet they live as long as other men, Lord, and often reap a finer harvest.”
“Aye, Ru, but very soon their day is done and then, if they have not repented, their souls die.”
“So you believe that souls can live on, as the priests seem to teach.”
“Yes, Ru, I believe that they can live longer than Ra the sun himself, longer than the stars, and from age to age reap the fruits of honest service. Yet of these matters do not ask me but ask one whom you will soon meet and whose disciple I am.”