XI
THE WAKING OF THE WANDERER
Now Rei the Priest, as had been appointed, went to the pylon gate of
the Temple of Hathor. Awhile he stood looking for the Wanderer, but
though the hour had come, the Wanderer came not. Then the Priest went
to the pylon and stood in the shadow of the gate. As he stood there a
wicket in the gate opened, and there passed out a veiled figure of a
woman upon whose breast burned a red jewel that shone in the night
like a star. The woman waited awhile, looking down the moonlit road
between the black rows of sphinxes, but the road lay white and empty,
and she turned and hid herself in the shadow of the pylon, where Rei
could see nothing of her except the red star that gleamed upon her
breast.
Now a great fear came upon the old man, for he knew that he looked
upon the strange and deadly Hathor. Perchance he too would perish like
the rest who had looked on her to their ruin. He thought of flight,
but he did not dare to fly. Then he too stared down the road seeking
for the Wanderer, but no shadow crossed the moonlight. Thus things
went for awhile, and still the Hathor stood silently in the shadow,
and still the blood-red star shone upon her breast. And so it came to
pass that the World's Desire must wait at the tryst like some forsaken
village maid.
While Rei the Priest crouched thus against the pylon wall, praying for
the coming of him who came not, suddenly a voice spoke to him in tones
sweeter than a lute.
"Who art thou that hidest in the shadow?" said the voice.
He knew that it was the Hathor who spoke, and so afraid was he that he
could not answer.
Then the voice spoke again:
"Oh, thou most crafty of men, why doth it please thee to come hither
to seek me in the guise of an aged priest. Once, Odysseus, I saw thee
in beggar's weeds, and knew thee in the midst of thy foes. Shall I not
know thee again in peace beneath thy folded garb and thy robes of
white?"
Rei heard and knew that he could hide himself no longer. Therefore he
came forward trembling, and knelt before her, saying:
"Oh, mighty Queen, I am not that man whom thou didst name, nor am I
hid in any wrappings of disguise. Nay, I do avow myself to be named
Rei the Chief Architect of Pharaoh, the Commander of the Legion of
Amen, the chief of the Treasury of Amen, and a man of repute in this
land of Khem. Now, if indeed thou art the Goddess of this temple, as I
judge by that red jewel which burns upon thy breast, I pray thee be
merciful to thy servant and smite me not in thy wrath, for not by my
own will am I here, but by the command of that hero whom thou hast
named, and for whose coming I await. Be merciful therefore, and hold
thy hand."
"Fear not thou, Rei," said the sweet voice. "Little am I minded to
harm thee, or any man, for though many men have gone down the path of
darkness because of me, who am a doom to men, not by my will has it
been, but by the will of the immortal Gods, who use me to their ends.
Rise thou, Rei, and tell me why thou art come hither, and where is he
whom I have named?"
Then Rei rose, and looking up saw the light of the Helen's eyes
shining on him through her veil. But there was no anger in them, they
shone mildly as stars in an evening sky, and his heart was comforted.
"I know not where the Wanderer is, O thou Immortal," he said. "This I
know only, that he bade me meet him here at one hour before midnight,
and so I came."
"Perchance he too will come anon," said the sweet voice; "but why did
he, whom thou namest the Wanderer, bid thee meet him here?"
"For this reason, O Hathor. He told me that this night he should be
wed to thee, and was minded thereafter to fly from Khem with thee.
Therefore he bade me come, who am a friend to him, to talk with thee
and him as to how thy flight should go, and yet he comes not."
Now as Rei spake, he turned his face upward, and the Golden Helen
looked upon it.
"Hearken, Rei," she said; "but yesterday, after I had stood upon the
pylon tower as the Gods decreed, and sang to those who were ripe to
die, I went to my shrine and wove my web while the doomed men fell
beneath the swords of them who were set to guard my beauty, but who
now are gone. And as I wove, one passed the Ghosts and rent the web
and stood before me. It was he whom I await to-night, and after awhile
I knew him for Odysseus of Ithaca, Laertes' son. But as I looked on
him and spake with him, behold, I saw a spirit watching us, though he
might not see it, a spirit whose face I knew not, for no such man have
I known in my life days. Know then, Rei, that the face of the spirit
was /thy/ face, and its robes /thy/ robes."
Then once more Rei trembled in his fear.
"Now, Rei, I bid thee tell me, and speak the truth, lest evil come on
thee, not at my hands indeed, for I would harm none, but at the hands
of those Immortals who are akin to me. What did thy spirit yonder, in
my sacred shrine? How didst thou dare to enter and look upon my beauty
and hearken to my words?"
"Oh, great Queen," said Rei, "I will tell thee the truth, and I pray
thee let not the wrath of the Gods fall upon me. Not of my own will
did my spirit enter into thy Holy Place, nor do I know aught of what
it saw therein, seeing that no memory of it remains in me. Nay, it was
sent of her whom I serve, who is the mistress of all magic, and to her
it made report, but what it said I know not."
"And whom dost thou serve, Rei? And why did she send thy spirit forth
to spy on me?"
"I serve Meriamun the Queen, and she sent my spirit forth to learn
what befell the Wanderer when he went up against the Ghosts."
"And yet he said naught to me of this Meriamun. Say, Rei, is she
fair?"
"Of all women who live upon the earth she is the very fairest."
"Of /all/, sayest thou, Rei? Look now, and say if Meriamun, whom thou
dost serve, is fairer than Argive Helen, whom thou dost name the
Hathor?" and she lifted her veil so that he saw the face that was
beneath.
Now when he heard that name, and looked upon the glory of her who is
Beauty's self, Rei shrank back till he went nigh to falling on the
earth.
"Nay," he said, covering his eyes with his hand; "nay thou art fairer
than she."
"Then tell me," she said, letting fall her veil again, "and for thine
own sake tell me true, why would Meriamun the Queen, whom thou
servest, know the fate of him who came up against the Ghosts?"
"Wouldst thou know, Daughter of Amen?" answered Rei; "then I will tell
thee, for through thee alone she whom I serve and love can be saved
from shame. Meriamun doth also love the man whom thou wouldst wed."
Now when the Golden Helen heard these words, she pressed her hand
against her bosom.
"So I feared," she said, "even so. She loves him, and he comes not.
Ah! if it be so! Now, Rei, I am tempted to pay this Queen of thine in
her own craft, and send thy spirit forth to spy on her. Nay, that I
will not do, for never shall Helen work by shameful guile or magic.
Nay--but we will hence, Rei, we will go to the Palace where my rival
dwells, there to learn the truth. Fear not, I will bring no ill on
thee, nor on her whom thou servest. Lead me to the Palace, Rei. Lead
me swiftly."
Now the Wanderer slept in the arms of Meriamun, who wore the shape of
Argive Helen. His golden harness was piled by the golden bed, and by
the bed stood the black bow of Eurytus. The night drew on towards the
dawning, when of a sudden the Bow awoke and sang, and thus it sang:
"Wake! wake! though the arms of thy Love are about thee, yet dearer by far
Than her kiss is the sound of the fight;
And more sweet than her voice is the cry of the trumpet, and goodlier far
Than her arms is the battle's delight:
And what eyes are so bright as the sheen of the bronze when the
sword is aloft,
What breast is so fair as the shield?
Or what garland of roses is dear as the helm, and what sleep is so soft
As the sleep of slain men on the field?"
Lo! the Snake that was twined about the form of her who wore the shape
of Helen heard the magic song. It awoke, it arose. It twisted itself
about the body of the Wanderer and the body of her who wore the shape
of Helen, knitting them together in the bond of sin. It grew, and
lifting its woman's head on high, it sang in answer. And thus it sang
of doom:
"Sleep! be at rest for an hour; as in death men believe they shall rest,
But they wake! And thou too shalt awake!
In the dark of the grave do they stir; but about them, on arms and
on breast,
Are the toils and the coils of the Snake:
By the tree where the first lovers lay, did I watch as I watch where
he lies,
Love laid on the bosom of Lust!"
Then the great bow answered the Snake, and it sang:
"Of the tree where the first lovers sinned was I shapen; I bid thee arise,
Thou Slayer that soon shall be dust."
And the Snake sang reply:
"Be thou silent, my Daughter of Death, be thou silent nor wake him from sleep,
With the song and the sound of thy breath."
The Bow heard the song of the Snake. The Death heard the song of the
Sin, and again its thin music thrilled upon the air. For thus it sang:
"Be thou silent, my Mother of Sin, for this watch it is given me to keep
O'er the sleep of the dealer of Death!"
Then the Snake sang:
"Hush, hush, thou art young, and thou camest to birth when the making was done
Of the world: I am older therein!"
And the Bow answered:
"But without me thy strength were as weakness, the prize of thy
strength were unwon.
I am /Death/, and thy Daughter, O Sin!"
Now the song of the Snake and the song of the Bow sunk through the
depths of sleep till they reached the Wanderer's ears. He sighed, he
stretched out his mighty arms, he opened his eyes, and lo! they looked
upon the eyes that bent above him, eyes of flame that lit the face of
a woman--the face of Meriamun that wavered on a serpent's neck and
suddenly was gone. He cried aloud with fear, and sprang from the
couch. The faint light of the dawning crept through the casements and
fell upon the bed. The faint light of the dawning fell upon the golden
bed of Pharaoh's Queen, it gleamed upon the golden armour that was
piled by the bed, and on the polished surface of the great black bow.
It shone upon the face of her who lay in the bed.
Then he remembered. Surely he had slept with the Golden Helen, who was
his bride, and surely he had dreamed an evil dream, a dream of a snake
that wore the face of Pharaoh's Queen. Yea, there lay the Golden
Helen, won at last--the Golden Helen now made a wife to him. Now he
mocked his own fears, and now he bent to wake her with a kiss. Faintly
the new-born light crept and gathered on her face; ah! how beautiful
she was in sleep. Nay, what was this? Whose face was this beneath his
own? Not so had Helen looked in the shrine of her temple, when he tore
the web. Not so had Helen seemed yonder in the pillared hall when she
stood in the moonlit space--not so had she seemed when he sware the
great oath to love her, and her alone. Whose beauty was it then that
now he saw? By the Immortal Gods, it was the beauty of Meriamun; it
was the glory of the Pharaoh's Queen!
He stared upon her lovely sleeping face, while terror shook his soul.
How could this be? What then had he done?
Then light broke upon him. He looked around the chamber--there on the
walls were the graven images of the Gods of Khem, there above the bed
the names of Meneptah and Meriamun were written side by side in the
sacred signs of Khem. Not with the Golden Helen had he slept, but with
the wife of Pharaoh! To her he had sworn the oath, and she had worn
the Helen's shape--and now the spell was broken.
He stood amazed, and as he stood, again the great bow thrilled,
warning him of Death to come. Then his strength came back to him, and
he seized his armour and girt it about him piece by piece till he
lifted the golden helm. It slipped from his hand; with a crash it fell
upon the marble floor. With a crash it fell, and she who slept in the
bed awoke with a cry, and sprang from the bed, her dark hair streaming
down, her night-gear held to her by the golden snake with gemmy eyes
that she must ever wear. But he caught his sword in his hand, and
threw down the ivory sheath.
