MOON OF ISRAEL
A Tale of the Exodus
by H. Rider Haggard
AUTHOR'S NOTE
This book suggests that the real Pharaoh of the Exodus was not
Meneptah or Merenptah, son of Rameses the Great, but the mysterious
usurper, Amenmeses, who for a year or two occupied the throne between
the death of Meneptah and the accession of his son the heir-apparent,
the gentle-natured Seti II.
Of the fate of Amenmeses history says nothing; he may well have
perished in the Red Sea or rather the Sea of Reeds, for, unlike those
of Meneptah and the second Seti, his body has not been found.
Students of Egyptology will be familiar with the writings of the
scribe and novelist Anana, or Ana as he is here called.
It was the Author's hope to dedicate this story to Sir Gaston Maspero,
K.C.M.G., Director of the Cairo Museum, with whom on several occasions
he discussed its plot some years ago. Unhappily, however, weighed down
by one of the bereavements of the war, this great Egyptologist died in
the interval between its writing and its publication. Still, since
Lady Maspero informs him that such is the wish of his family, he adds
the dedication which he had proposed to offer to that eminent writer
and student of the past.
Dear Sir Gaston Maspero,
When you assured me as to a romance of mine concerning ancient
Egypt, that it was so full of the "inner spirit of the old
Egyptians" that, after kindred efforts of your own and a lifetime
of study, you could not conceive how it had been possible for it
to spring from the brain of a modern man, I thought your verdict,
coming from such a judge, one of the greatest compliments that
ever I received. It is this opinion of yours indeed which induces
me to offer you another tale of a like complexion. Especially am
I encouraged thereto by a certain conversation between us in
Cairo, while we gazed at the majestic countenance of the Pharaoh
Meneptah, for then it was, as you may recall, that you said you
thought the plan of this book probable and that it commended
itself to your knowledge of those dim days.
With gratitude for your help and kindness and the sincerest homage
to your accumulated lore concerning the most mysterious of all the
perished peoples of the earth,
Believe me to remain
Your true admirer,
H. Rider Haggard.
MOON OF ISRAEL
CHAPTER I
SCRIBE ANA COMES TO TANIS
This is the story of me, Ana the scribe, son of Meri, and of certain
of the days that I have spent upon the earth. These things I have
written down now that I am very old in the reign of Rameses, the third
of that name, when Egypt is once more strong and as she was in the
ancient time. I have written them before death takes me, that they may
be buried with me in death, for as my spirit shall arise in the hour
of resurrection, so also these my words may arise in their hour and
tell to those who shall come after me upon the earth of what I knew
upon the earth. Let it be as Those in heaven shall decree. At least I
write and what I write is true.
I tell of his divine Majesty whom I loved and love as my own soul,
Seti Meneptah the second, whose day of birth was my day of birth, the
Hawk who has flown to heaven before me; of Userti the Proud, his
queen, she who afterwards married his divine Majesty, Saptah, whom I
saw laid in her tomb at Thebes. I tell of Merapi, who was named Moon
of Israel, and of her people, the Hebrews, who dwelt for long in Egypt
and departed thence, having paid us back in loss and shame for all the
good and ill we gave them. I tell of the war between the gods of Egypt
and the god of Israel, and of much that befell therein.
Also I, the King's Companion, the great scribe, the beloved of the
Pharaohs who have lived beneath the sun with me, tell of other men and
matters. Behold! is it not written in this roll? Read, ye who shall
find in the days unborn, if your gods have given you skill. Read, O
children of the future, and learn the secrets of that past which to
you is so far away and yet in truth so near.
As it chanced, although the Prince Seti and I were born upon the same
day and therefore, like the other mothers of gentle rank whose
children saw the light upon that day, my mother received Pharaoh's
gift and I received the title of Royal Twin in Ra, never did I set
eyes upon the divine Prince Seti until the thirtieth birthday of both
of us. All of which happened thus.
In those days the great Pharaoh, Rameses the second, and after him his
son Meneptah who succeeded when he was already old, since the mighty
Rameses was taken to Osiris after he had counted one hundred risings
of the Nile, dwelt for the most part at the city of Tanis in the
desert, whereas I dwelt with my parents at the ancient, white-walled
city of Memphis on the Nile. At times Meneptah and his court visited
Memphis, as also they visited Thebes, where this king lies in his
royal tomb to-day. But save on one occasion, the young Prince Seti,
the heir-apparent, the Hope of Egypt, came not with them, because his
mother, Asnefert, did not favour Memphis, where some trouble had
befallen her in youth--they say it was a love matter that cost the
lover his life and her a sore heart--and Seti stayed with his mother
who would not suffer him out of sight of her eyes.
Once he came indeed when he was fifteen years of age, to be proclaimed
to the people as son of his father, as Son of the Sun, as the future
wearer of the Double Crown, and then we, his twins in Ra--there were
nineteen of us who were gently born--were called by name to meet him
and to kiss his royal feet. I made ready to go in a fine new robe
embroidered in purple with the name of Seti and my own. But on that
very morning by the gift of some evil god I was smitten with spots all
over my face and body, a common sickness that affects the young. So it
happened that I did not see the Prince, for before I was well again he
had left Memphis.
Now my father Meri was a scribe of the great temple of Ptah, and I was
brought up to his trade in the school of the temple, where I copied
many rolls and also wrote out Books of the Dead which I adorned with
paintings. Indeed, in this business I became so clever that, after my
father went blind some years before his death, I earned enough to keep
him, and my sisters also until they married. Mother I had none, for
she was gathered to Osiris while I was still very little. So life went
on from year to year, but in my heart I hated my lot. While I was
still a boy there rose up in me a desire--not to copy what others had
written, but to write what others should copy. I became a dreamer of
dreams. Walking at night beneath the palm-trees upon the banks of the
Nile I watched the moon shining upon the waters, and in its rays I
seemed to see many beautiful things. Pictures appeared there which
were different from any that I saw in the world of men, although in
them were men and women and even gods.
Of these pictures I made stories in my heart and at last, although
that was not for some years, I began to write these stories down in my
spare hours. My sisters found me doing so and told my father, who
scolded me for such foolishness which he said would never furnish me
with bread and beer. But still I wrote on in secret by the light of
the lamp in my chamber at night. Then my sisters married, and one day
my father died suddenly while he was reciting prayers in the temple. I
caused him to be embalmed in the best fashion and buried with honour
in the tomb he had made ready for himself, although to pay the costs I
was obliged to copy Books of the Dead for nearly two years, working so
hard that I found no time for the writing of stories.
When at length I was free from debt I met a maiden from Thebes with a
beautiful face that always seemed to smile, and she took my heart from
my breast into her own. In the end, after I returned from fighting in
the war against the Nine Bow Barbarians, to which I was summoned like
other men, I married her. As for her name, let it be, I will not think
of it even to myself. We had one child, a little girl which died
within two years of her birth, and then I learned what sorrow can mean
to man. At first my wife was sad, but her grief departed with time and
she smiled again as she used to do. Only she said that she would bear
no more children for the gods to take. Having little to do she began
to go about the city and make friends whom I did not know, for of
these, being a beautiful woman, she found many. The end of it was that
she departed back to Thebes with a soldier whom I had never seen, for
I was always working at home thinking of the babe who was dead and how
happiness is a bird that no man can snare, though sometimes, of its
own will, it flies in at his window-place.
It was after this that my hair went white before I had counted thirty
years.
Now, as I had none to work for and my wants were few and simple, I
found more time for the writing of stories which, for the most part,
were somewhat sad. One of these stories a fellow scribe borrowed from
me and read aloud to a company, whom it pleased so much that there
were many who asked leave to copy it and publish it abroad. So by
degrees I became known as a teller of tales, which tales I caused to
be copied and sold, though out of them I made but little. Still my
fame grew till on a day I received a message from the Prince Seti, my
twin in Ra, saying that he had read certain of my writings which
pleased him much and that it was his wish to look upon my face. I
thanked him humbly by the messenger and answered that I would travel
to Tanis and wait upon his Highness. First, however, I finished the
longest story which I had yet written. It was called the Tale of Two
Brothers, and told how the faithless wife of one of them brought
trouble on the other, so that he was killed. Of how, also, the just
gods brought him to life again, and many other matters. This story I
dedicated to his Highness, the Prince Seti, and with it in the bosom
of my robe I travelled to Tanis, having hidden about me a sum of gold
that I had saved.
So I came to Tanis at the beginning of winter and, walking to the
palace of the Prince, boldly demanded an audience. But now my troubles
began, for the guards and watchmen thrust me from the doors. In the
end I bribed them and was admitted to the antechambers, where were
merchants, jugglers, dancing-women, officers, and many others, all of
them, it seemed, waiting to see the Prince; folk who, having nothing
to do, pleased themselves by making mock of me, a stranger. When I had
mixed with them for several days, I gained their friendship by telling
to them one of my stories, after which I was always welcome among
them. Still I could come no nearer to the Prince, and as my store of
money was beginning to run low, I bethought me that I would return to
Memphis.
One day, however, a long-bearded old man, with a gold-tipped wand of
office, who had a bull's head embroidered on his robe, stopped in
front of me and, calling me a white-headed crow, asked me what I was
doing hopping day by day about the chambers of the palace. I told him
my name and business and he told me his, which it seemed was Pambasa,
one of the Prince's chamberlains. When I asked him to take me to the
Prince, he laughed in my face and said darkly that the road to his
Highness's presence was paved with gold. I understood what he meant
and gave him a gift which he took as readily as a cock picks corn,
saying that he would speak of me to his master and that I must come
back again.
I came thrice and each time that old cock picked more corn. At last I
grew enraged and, forgetting where I was, began to shout at him and
call him a thief, so that folks gathered round to listen. This seemed
to frighten him. At first he looked towards the door as though to
summon the guard to thrust me out; then changed his mind, and in a
grumbling voice bade me follow him. We went down long passages, past
soldiers who stood at watch in them still as mummies in their coffins,
till at length we came to some broidered curtains. Here Pambasa
whispered to me to wait, and passed through the curtains which he left
not quite closed, so that I could see the room beyond and hear all
that took place there.
It was a small room like to that of any scribe, for on the tables were
palettes, pens of reed, ink in alabaster vases, and sheets of papyrus
pinned upon boards. The walls were painted, not as I was wont to paint
the Books of the Dead, but after the fashion of an earlier time, such
as I have seen in certain ancient tombs, with pictures of wild fowl
rising from the swamps and of trees and plants as they grow. Against
the walls hung racks in which were papyrus rolls, and on the hearth
burned a fire of cedar-wood.
By this fire stood the Prince, whom I knew from his statues. His years
appeared fewer than mine although we were born upon the same day, and
he was tall and thin, very fair also for one of our people, perhaps
because of the Syrian blood that ran in his veins. His hair was
straight and brown like to that of northern folk who come to trade in
the markets of Egypt, and his eyes were grey rather than black, set
beneath somewhat prominent brows such as those of his father,
Meneptah. His face was sweet as a woman's, but made curious by certain
wrinkles which ran from the corners of the eyes towards the ears. I
think that these came from the bending of the brow in thought, but
others say that they were inherited from an ancestress on the female
side. Bakenkhonsu my friend, the old prophet who served under the
first Seti and died but the other day, having lived a hundred and
twenty years, told me that he knew her before she was married, and
that she and her descendant, Seti, might have been twins.
In his hand the Prince held an open roll, a very ancient writing as I,
who am skilled in such matters that have to do with my trade, knew
from its appearance. Lifting his eyes suddenly from the study of this
roll, he saw the chamberlain standing before him.
"You came at a good time, Pambasa," he said in a voice that was very
soft and pleasant, and yet most manlike. "You are old and doubtless
wise. Say, are you wise, Pambasa?"
"Yes, your Highness. I am wise like your Highness's uncle, Khaemuas
the mighty magician, whose sandals I used to clean when I was young."
"Is it so? Then why are you so careful to hide your wisdom which
should be open like a flower for us poor bees to suck at? Well, I am
glad to learn that you are wise, for in this book of magic that I have
been reading I find problems worthy of Khaemuas the departed, whom I
only remember as a brooding, black-browed man much like my cousin,
Amenmeses his son--save that no one can call Amenmeses wise."
"Why is your Highness glad?"
"Because you, being by your own account his equal, can now interpret
the matter as Khaemuas would have done. You know, Pambasa, that had he
lived he would have been Pharaoh in place of my father. He died too
soon, however, which proves to me that there was something in this
tale of his wisdom, since no really wise man would ever wish to be
Pharaoh of Egypt."
Pambasa stared with his mouth open.
"Not wish to be Pharaoh!" he began--
"Now, Pambasa the Wise," went on the Prince as though he had not heard
him. "Listen. This old book gives a charm 'to empty the heart of its
weariness,' that it says is the oldest and most common sickness in the
world from which only kittens, some children, and mad people are free.
It appears that the cure for this sickness, so says the book, is to
stand on the top of the pyramid of Khufu at midnight at that moment
when the moon is largest in the whole year, and drink from the cup of
dreams, reciting meanwhile a spell written here at length in language
which I cannot read."
"There is no virtue in spells, Prince, if anyone can read them."
"And no use, it would seem, if they can be read by none."
"Moreover, how can any one climb the pyramid of Khufu, which is
covered with polished marble, even in the day let alone at midnight,
your Highness, and there drink of the cup of dreams?"
"I do not know, Pambasa. All I know is that I weary of this
foolishness, and of the world. Tell me of something that will lighten
my heart, for it is heavy."
"There are jugglers without, Prince, one of whom says he can throw a
rope into the air and climb up it until he vanishes into heaven."
"When he has done it in your sight, Pambasa, bring him to me, but not
before. Death is the only rope by which we climb to heaven--or be
lowered into hell. For remember there is a god called Set, after whom,
like my great-grandfather, I am named by the way--the priests alone
know why--as well as one called Osiris."
"Then there are the dancers, Prince, and among them some very finely
made girls, for I saw them bathing in the palace lake, such as would
have delighted the heart of your grandfather, the great Rameses."
"They do not delight my heart who want no naked women prancing here.
Try again, Pambasa."
"I can think of nothing else, Prince. Yet, stay. There is a scribe
without named Ana, a thin, sharp-nosed man who says he is your
Highness's twin in Ra."
"Ana!" said the Prince. "He of Memphis who writes stories? Why did you
not say so before, you old fool? Let him enter at once, at once."
Now hearing this I, Ana, walked through the curtains and prostrated
myself, saying,
"I am that scribe, O Royal Son of the Sun."
"How dare you enter the Prince's presence without being bidden----"
began Pambasa, but Seti broke in with a stern voice, saying,
"And how dare you, Pambasa, keep this learned man waiting at my door
like a dog? Rise, Ana, and cease from giving me titles, for we are not
at Court. Tell me, how long have you been in Tanis?"
"Many days, O Prince," I answered, "seeking your presence and in
vain."
"And how did you win it at last?"
"By payment, O Prince," I answered innocently, "as it seems is usual.
The doorkeepers----"
"I understand," said Seti, "the doorkeepers! Pambasa, you will
ascertain what amount this learned scribe has disbursed to 'the
doorkeepers' and refund him double. Begone now and see to the matter."
So Pambasa went, casting a piteous look at me out of the corner of his
eye.
"Tell me," said Seti when he was gone, "you who must be wise in your
fashion, why does a Court always breed thieves?"
"I suppose for the same reason, O Prince, that a dog's back breeds
fleas. Fleas must live, and there is the dog."
"True," he answered, "and these palace fleas are not paid enough. If
ever I have power I will see to it. They shall be fewer but better
fed. Now, Ana, be seated. I know you though you do not know me, and
already I have learned to love you through your writings. Tell me of
yourself."
So I told him all my simple tale, to which he listened without a word,
and then asked me why I had come to see him. I replied that it was
because he had sent for me, which he had forgotten; also because I
brought him a story that I had dared to dedicate to him. Then I laid
the roll before him on the table.
"I am honoured," he said in a pleased voice, "I am greatly honoured.
If I like it well, your story shall go to the tomb with me for my Ka
to read and re-read until the day of resurrection, though first I will
study it in the flesh. Do you know this city of Tanis, Ana?"
I answered that I knew little of it, who had spent my time here
haunting the doors of his Highness.
"Then with your leave I will be your guide through it this night, and
afterwards we will sup and talk."
I bowed and he clapped his hands, whereon a servant appeared, not
Pambasa, but another.
"Bring two cloaks," said the Prince, "I go abroad with the scribe,
Ana. Let a guard of four Nubians, no more, follow us, but at a
distance and disguised. Let them wait at the private entrance."
The man bowed and departed swiftly.
Almost immediately a black slave appeared with two long hooded cloaks,
such as camel-drivers wear, which he helped us to put on. Then, taking
a lamp, he led us from the room through a doorway opposite to that by
which I had entered, down passages and a narrow stair that ended in a
courtyard. Crossing this we came to a wall, great and thick, in which
were double doors sheathed with copper that opened mysteriously at our
approach. Outside of these doors stood four tall men, also wrapped in
cloaks, who seemed to take no note of us. Still, looking back when we
had gone a little way, I observed that they were following us, as
though by chance.
How fine a thing, thought I to myself, it is to be a Prince who by
lifting a finger can thus command service at any moment of the day or
night.
Just at that moment Seti said to me:
"See, Ana, how sad a thing it is to be a Prince, who cannot even stir
abroad without notice to his household and commanding the service of a
secret guard to spy upon his every action, and doubtless to make
report thereof to the police of Pharaoh."
There are two faces to everything, thought I to myself again.
