V
MERIAMUN THE QUEEN
Strange news flies fast. It was not long before the Pharaoh, who then
was with his Court in Tanis, the newly rebuilded city, heard how there
had come to Khem a man like a god, wearing golden armour, and cruising
alone in a ship of the dead. In these years the white barbarians of
the sea and of the isles were wont to land in Egypt, to ravage the
fields, carry women captive, and fly again in their ships. But not one
of them had dared to sail in the armour of the Aquaiusha, as the
Egyptians named the Achæans, right up the river to the city of
Pharaoh. The King, therefore, was amazed at the story, and when he
heard that the stranger had taken sanctuary in the Temple of Heracles,
he sent instantly for his chief counsellor. This was his Master
Builder, who bore a high title in the land, an ancient priest named
Rei. He had served through the long reign of the King's father, the
divine Rameses the Second, and he was beloved both of Meneptah and of
Meriamun his Queen. Him the King charged to visit the Sanctuary and
bring the stranger before him. So Rei called for his mule, and rode
down to the Temple of Heracles beyond the walls.
When Rei came thither, a priest went before him and led him to the
chamber where the warrior chanced to be eating the lily bread of the
land, and drinking the wine of the Delta. He rose as Rei entered, and
he was still clad in his golden armour, for as yet he had not any
change of raiment. Beside him, on a bronze tripod, lay his helmet, the
Achæan helmet, with its two horns and with the bronze spear-point
still fast in the gold.
The eyes of Rei the Priest fell on the helmet, and he gazed so
strangely at it that he scarcely heard the Wanderer's salutation. At
length he answered, courteously, but always his eyes wandered back to
the broken spear-point.
"Is this thine, my son?" he asked, taking it in his hand, while his
voice trembled.
"It is my own," said the Wanderer, "though the spear-point in it was
lent me of late, in return for arrows not a few and certain sword-
strokes," and he smiled.
The ancient priest bade the Temple servants retire, and as they went
they heard him murmuring a prayer.
"The Dead spoke truth," he muttered, still gazing from the helmet in
his hand to the Wanderer; "ay, the Dead speak seldom, but they never
lie."
"My son, thou hast eaten and drunk," then said Rei the Priest and
Master Builder, "and may an old man ask whence thou camest, where is
thy native city, and who are thy parents?"
"I come from Alybas," answered the Wanderer, for his own name was too
widely known, and he loved an artful tale. "I come from Alybas; I am
the son of Apheidas, son of Polypemon, and my own name is Eperitus."
"And wherefore comest thou here alone in a ship of dead men, and with
more treasure than a king's ransom?"
"It was men of Sidon who laboured and died for all that cargo," said
the Wanderer; "they voyaged far for it, and toiled hard, but they lost
it in an hour. For they were not content with what they had, but made
me a prisoner as I lay asleep on the coast of Crete. But the Gods gave
me the upper hand of them, and I bring their captain, and much white
metal and many swords and cups and beautiful woven stuffs, as a gift
to your King. And for thy courtesy, come with me, and choose a gift
for thyself."
Then he led the old man to the treasure-chambers of the Temple, which
was rich in the offerings of many travellers, gold and turquoise and
frankincense from Sinai and Punt, great horns of carved ivory from the
unknown East and South; bowls and baths of silver from the Khita, who
were the allies of Egypt. But amidst all the wealth, the stranger's
cargo made a goodly show, and the old priest's eyes glittered as he
looked at it.
"Take thy choice, I pray thee," said the Wanderer, "the spoils of
foemen are the share of friends."
The priest would have refused, but the Wanderer saw that he looked
ever at a bowl of transparent amber, from the far-off Northern seas,
that was embossed with curious figures of men and gods, and huge
fishes, such as are unknown in the Midland waters. The Wanderer put it
into the hands of Rei.
"Thou shalt keep this," he said, "and pledge me in wine from it when I
am gone, in memory of a friend and a guest."
Rei took the bowl, and thanked him, holding it up to the light to
admire the golden colour.
"We are always children," he said, smiling gravely. "See an old child
whom thou hast made happy with a toy. But we are men too soon again;
the King bids thee come with me before him. And, my son, if thou
wouldst please me more than by any gift, I pray thee pluck that spear-
head from thy helmet before thou comest into the presence of the
Queen."
"Pardon me," said the Wanderer. "I would not harm my helmet by tearing
it roughly out, and I have no smith's tools here. The spear-point, my
father, is a witness to the truth of my tale, and for one day more, or
two, I must wear it."
Rei sighed, bowed his head, folded his hands, and prayed to his God
Amen, saying:
"O Amen, in whose hand is the end of a matter, lighten the burden of
these sorrows, and let the vision be easy of accomplishment, and I
pray thee, O Amen, let thy hand be light on thy daughter Meriamun, the
Lady of Khem."
Then the old man led the Wanderer out, and bade the priests make ready
a chariot for him; and so they went through Tanis to the Court of
Meneptah. Behind them followed the priests, carrying gifts that the
Wanderer had chosen from the treasures of the Sidonians, and the
miserable captain of the Sidonians was dragged along after them, bound
to the hinder part of a chariot. Through the gazing crowd they all
passed on to the Hall of Audience, where, between the great pillars,
sat Pharaoh on his golden throne. Beside him, at his right hand, was
Meriamun, the beautiful Queen, who looked at the priests with weary
eyes, as if at a matter in which she had no concern. They came in and
beat the earth with their brows before the King. First came the
officers, leading the captain of the Sidonians for a gift to Pharaoh,
and the King smiled graciously and accepted the slave.
Then came others, bearing the cups of gold fashioned like the heads of
lions and rams, and the swords with pictures of wars and huntings
echoed on their blades in many-coloured gold, and the necklets of
amber from the North, which the Wanderer had chosen as gifts for
Pharaoh's Queen and Pharaoh. He had silks, too, embroidered in gold,
and needlework of Sidonian women, and all these the Queen Meriamun
touched to show her acceptance of them, and smiled graciously and
wearily. But the covetous Sidonian groaned, when he saw his wealth
departing from him, the gains for which he had hazarded his life in
unsailed seas. Lastly, Pharaoh bade them lead the Wanderer in before
his presence, and he came unhelmeted, in all his splendour, the
goodliest man that had ever been seen in Khem. He was of no great
height, but very great of girth, and of strength unmatched, and with
the face of one who had seen what few have seen and lived. The beauty
of youth was gone from him, but his face had the comeliness of a
warrior tried on sea and land; the eyes were of a valour invincible,
and no woman could see him but she longed to be his love.
As he entered murmurs of amazement passed over all the company, and
all eyes were fixed on him, save only the weary and wandering eyes of
the listless Meriamun. But when she chanced to lift her face, and gaze
on him, they who watch the looks of kings and queens saw her turn grey
as the dead, and clutch with her hand at her side. Pharaoh himself saw
this though he was not quick to mark what passed, and he asked her if
anything ailed her, but she answered:--
"Nay, only methinks the air is sick with heat and perfume. Greet thou
this stranger." But beneath her robe her fingers were fretting all the
while at the golden fringes of her throne.
"Welcome, thou Wanderer," cried Pharaoh, in a deep and heavy voice,
"welcome! By what name art thou named, and where dwell thy people, and
what is thy native land?"
Bowing low before Pharaoh, the Wanderer answered, with a feigned tale,
that his name was Eperitus of Alybas, the son of Apheidas. The rest of
the story, and how he had been taken by the Sidonians, and how he had
smitten them on the seas, he told as he had told it to Rei. And he
displayed his helmet with the spear-point fast in it. But when she saw
this Meriamun rose to her feet as if she would be gone, and then fell
back into her seat even paler than before.
"The Queen, help the Queen, she faints," cried Rei the Priest, whose
eyes had never left her face. One of her ladies, a beautiful woman,
ran to her, knelt before her, and chafed her hands, till she came to
herself, and sat up with angry eyes.
"Let be!" she said, "and let the slave who tends the incense be beaten
on the feet. Nay, I will remain here, I will not to my chamber. Let
be!" and her lady drew back afraid.
Then Pharaoh bade men lead the Sidonian out, and slay him in the
market-place for his treachery; but the man, whose name was Kurri,
threw himself at the feet of the Wanderer, praying for his life. The
Wanderer was merciful, when the rage of battle was over, and his blood
was cool.
"A boon, O Pharaoh Meneptah," he cried. "Spare me this man! He saved
my own life when the crew would have cast me overboard. Let me pay my
debt."
"Let him be spared, as thou wilt have it so," spoke Pharaoh, "but
revenge dogs the feet of foolish mercy, and many debts are paid ere
all is done."
Thus it chanced that Kurri was given to Meriamun to be her jeweller
and to work for her in gold and silver. To the Wanderer was allotted a
chamber in the Royal Palace, for the Pharaoh trusted that he would be
a leader of his Guard, and took great pleasure in his beauty and his
strength.
As he left the Hall of Audience with Rei, the Queen Meriamun lifted
her eyes again, and looked on him long, and her ivory face flushed
rosy, like the ivory that the Sidonians dye red for the trappings of
the horses of kings. But the Wanderer marked both the sudden fear and
the blush of Meriamun, and, beautiful as she was, he liked it ill, and
his heart foreboded evil. When he was alone with Rei, therefore, he
spoke to him of this, and prayed the old man to tell him if he could
guess at all the meaning of the Queen.
"For to me," he said, "it was as if the Lady knew my face, and even as
if she feared it; but I never saw her like in all my wanderings.
Beautiful she is, and yet--but it is ill speaking in their own land of
kings and queens!"
At first, when the Wanderer spoke thus, Rei put it by, smiling. But
the Wanderer, seeing that he was troubled, and remembering how he had
prayed him to pluck the spear-point from his helmet, pressed him hard
with questions. Thus, partly out of weariness, and partly for love of
him, and also because a secret had long been burning in his heart, the
old man took the Wanderer into his own room in the Palace, and there
he told him all the story of Meriamun the Queen.
