BOOK III
THE VENGEANCE OF HARMACHIS
CHAPTER I
OF THE ESCAPE OF HARMACHIS FROM TARSUS; OF HIS BEING CAST
FORTH AS AN OFFERING TO THE GODS OF THE SEA; OF HIS SOJOURN IN
THE ISLE OF CYPRUS; OF HIS RETURN TO ABOUTHIS; AND OF THE
DEATH OF AMENEMHAT
I made my way down the stair in safety, and presently stood in the
courtyard of that great house. It was but an hour from dawn, and none
were stirring. The last reveller had drunk his fill, the dancing-girls
had ceased their dancing, and silence lay upon the city. I drew near
the gate, and was challenged by an officer who stood on guard, wrapped
in a heavy cloak.
"Who passes," said the voice of Brennus.
"A merchant, may it please you, Sir, who, having brought gifts from
Alexandria to a lady of the Queen's household, and, having been
entertained of the lady, now departs to his galley," I answered in a
feigned voice.
"Umph!" he growled. "The ladies of the Queen's household keep their
guests late. Well; it is a time of festival. The pass-word, Sir
Shopkeeper? Without the pass-word you must needs return and crave the
lady's further hospitality."
"'/Antony/,' Sir; and a right good word, too. Ah! I've wandered far,
and never saw I so goodly a man or so great a general. And, mark you,
Sir! I've travelled far, and seen many generals."
"Ay; '/Antony/''s the word! And Antony is a good general in his way--
when it is a sober way, and when he cannot find a skirt to follow.
I've served with Antony--and against him, too; and know his points.
Well, well; he's got an armful now!"
And all this while that he was holding me in talk, the sentry had been
pacing to and fro before the gate. But now he moved a little way to
the right, leaving the entrance clear.
"Fare thee well, Harmachis, and begone!" whispered Brennus, leaning
forward and speaking quickly. "Linger not. But at times bethink thee
of Brennus who risked his neck to save thine. Farewell, lad, I would
that we were sailing North together," and he turned his back upon me
and began to hum a tune.
"Farewell, Brennus, thou honest man," I answered, and was gone. And,
as I heard long afterwards, when on the morrow the hue and cry was
raised because the murderers could not find me, though they sought me
everywhere to slay me, Brennus did me a service. For he swore that as
he kept his watch alone an hour after midnight he saw me come and
stand upon the parapet of the roof, that then I stretched out my robes
and they became wings on which I floated up to Heaven, leaving him
astonished. And all those about the Court lent ear to this history,
believing in it, because of the great fame of my magic; and they
wondered much what the marvel might portend. The tale also travelled
into Egypt, and did much to save my good name among those whom I had
betrayed; for the more ignorant among them believed that I acted not
of my will, but of the will of the dread Gods, who of their own
purpose wafted me into Heaven. And thus to this day the saying runs
that "/When Harmachis comes again Egypt shall be free./" But alas,
Harmachis comes no more! Only Cleopatra, though she was much afraid,
doubted her of the tale, and sent an armed vessel to search for the
Syrian merchant, but not to find him, as shall be told.
When I reached the galley of which Charmion had spoken, I found her
about to sail, and gave the writing to the captain, who conned it,
looking on me curiously, but said nothing.
So I went aboard, and immediately we dropped swiftly down the river
with the current. And having come to the mouth of the river
unchallenged, though we passed many vessels, we put out to sea with a
strong favouring wind that before night freshened to a great gale.
Then the sailor men, being much afraid, would have put about and run
for the mouth of Cydnus again, but could not because of the wildness
of the sea. All that night it blew furiously, and by dawn our mast was
carried away, and we rolled helplessly in the trough of the great
waves. But I sat wrapped in a cloak, little heeding; and because I
showed no fear the sailors cried out that I was a wizard, and sought
to cast me into the sea, but the captain would not. At dawn the wind
slackened, but ere noon it once more blew in terrible fury, and at the
fourth hour from noon we came in sight of the rocky coast of that cape
in the island of Cyprus which is called Dinaretum, where is a mountain
named Olympus, and thither-wards we drifted swiftly. Then, when the
sailors saw the terrible rocks, and how the great waves that smote on
them spouted up in foam, once more they grew much afraid, and cried
out in their fear. For, seeing that I still sat unmoved, they swore
that I certainly was a wizard, and came to cast me forth as a
sacrifice to the Gods of the sea. And this time the captain was over-
ruled, and said nothing. Therefore, when they came to me I rose and
defied them, saying, "Cast me forth, if ye will; but if ye cast me
forth ye shall perish."
For in my heart I cared little, having no more any love of life, but
rather a desire to die, though I greatly feared to pass into the
presence of my Holy Mother Isis. But my weariness and sorrow at the
bitterness of my lot overcame even this heavy fear; so that when,
being mad as brute beasts, they seized me and, lifting me, hurled me
into the raging waters, I did but utter one prayer to Isis and made
ready for death. But it was fated that I should not die; for, when I
rose to the surface of the water, I saw a spar of wood floating near
me, to which I swam and clung. And a great wave came and swept me,
riding, as it were, upon the spar, as when a boy I had learned to do
in the waters of the Nile, past the bulwarks of the galley where the
fierce-faced sailors clustered to see me drown. And when they saw me
come mounted on the wave, cursing them as I came, and saw, too, that
the colour of my face had changed--for the salt water had washed way
the pigment, they shrieked with fear and threw themselves down upon
the deck. And within a very little while, as I rode toward the rocky
coast, a great wave poured into the vessel, that rolled broadside on,
and pressed her down into the deep, whence she rose no more.
So she sank with all her crew. And in that same storm also sank the
galley which Cleopatra had sent to search for the Syrian merchant.
Thus all traces of me were lost, and of a surety she believed that I
was dead.
But I rode on toward the shore. The wind shrieked and the salt waves
lashed my face as, alone with the tempest, I rushed upon my way, while
the sea-birds screamed about my head. I felt no fear, but rather a
wild uplifting of the heart; and in the stress of my imminent peril
the love of life seemed to waken again. And so I plunged and drifted,
now tossed high toward the lowering clouds, now cast into the deep
valleys of the sea, till at length the rocky headland loomed before
me, and I saw the breakers smite upon the stubborn rocks, and through
the screaming of the wind heard the sullen thunder of their fall and
the groan of stones sucked seaward from the beach. On! high-throned
upon the mane of a mighty billow--fifty cubits beneath me the level of
the hissing waters; above me the inky sky! It was done! The spar was
torn from me, and, dragged downwards by the weight of the bag of gold
and the clinging of my garments, I sank struggling furiously.
Now I was under--the green light for a moment streamed through the
waters, and then came darkness, and on the darkness pictures of the
past. Picture after picture--all the long scene of life was written
here. Then in my ears I only heard the song of the nightingale, the
murmur of the summer sea, and the music of Cleopatra's laugh of
victory, following me softly and yet more soft as I sank away to
sleep.
Once more my life came back, and with it a sense of deadly sickness
and of aching pain. I opened my eyes and saw a kind face bending over
me, and knew that I was in the room of a builded house.
"How came I hither?" I asked faintly.
"Of a truth, Poseidon brought thee, Stranger," answered a rough voice
in barbarous Greek; "we found thee cast high upon the beach like a
dead dolphin and brought thee to our house, for we are fisher-folk.
And here, methinks, thou must lie a while, for thy left leg is broken
by the force of the waves."
I strove to move my foot and could not. It was true, the bone was
broken above the knee.
"Who art thou, and how art thou named?" asked the rough-bearded
sailor.
"I am an Egyptian traveller whose ship has sunk in the fury of the
gale, and I am named Olympus," I answered, for these people called a
mountain that we had sighted Olympus, and therefore I took the name at
hazard. And as Olympus I was henceforth known.
Here with these rough fisher-folk I abode for the half of a year,
paying them a little out of the sum of gold that had come safely
ashore upon me. For it was long before my bones grew together again,
and then I was left somewhat of a cripple; for I, who had been so tall
and straight and strong, now limped--one limb being shorter than the
other. And after I recovered from my hurt, I still lived there, and
toiled with them at the trade of fishing; for I knew not whither I
should go or what I should do, and, for a while, I was fain to become
a peasant fisherman, and so wear my weary life away. And these people
entreated me kindly, though, as others, they feared me much, holding
me to be a wizard brought hither by the sea. For my sorrows had
stamped so strange an aspect on my face that men gazing at me grew
fearful of what lay beneath its calm.
There, then, I abode, till at length, one night as I lay and strove to
sleep, great restlessness came upon me, and a mighty desire once more
to see the face of Sihor. But whether this desire was of the Gods or
born of my own heart, not knowing, I cannot tell. So strong was it, at
the least, that before it was dawn I rose from my bed of straw and
clothed myself in my fisher garb, and, because I had no wish to answer
questions, thus I took farewell of my humble hosts. First I placed
some pieces of gold on the well-cleaned table of wood, and then taking
a pot of flour I strewed it in the form of letters, writing:
"This gift from Olympus, the Egyptian, who returns into the sea."
Then I went, and on the third day I came to the great city of Salamis,
that is also on the sea. Here I abode in the fishermen's quarters till
a vessel was about to sail for Alexandria, and to the captain of this
vessel, a man of Paphos, I hired myself as a sailor. We sailed with a
favouring wind, and on the fifth day I came to Alexandria, that
hateful city, and saw the light dancing on its golden domes.
Here I might not abide. So again I hired myself out as a sailor,
giving my labour in return for passage, and we passed up the Nile. And
I learned from the talk of men that Cleopatra had come back to
Alexandria, drawing Antony with her and that they lived together with
royal state in the palace on the Lochias. Indeed, the boatmen already
had a song thereon, which they sang as they laboured at the oar. Also
I heard how the galley that was sent to search for the vessel which
carried the Syrian merchant had foundered with all her crew, and the
tale that the Queen's astronomer, Harmachis, had flown to Heaven from
the roof of the house at Tarsus. And the sailors wondered because I
sat and laboured and would not sing their ribald song of the loves of
Cleopatra. For they, too, began to fear me, and mutter concerning me
among themselves. Then I knew that I was a man accursed and set apart
--a man whom none might love.
On the sixth day we drew nigh to Abouthis, where I left the craft, and
the sailors were right glad to see me go. And, with a breaking heart,
I walked through the fertile fields, seeing faces that I knew well.
But in my rough disguise and limping gait none knew me. At length, as
the sun sank, I came near to the great outer pylon of the temple; and
here I crouched down in the ruins of a house, not knowing why I had
come or what I was about to do. Like a lost ox I had strayed from far,
back to the fields of my birth, and for what? If my father, Amenemhat,
still lived, surely he would turn his face from me. I dared not go
into the presence of my father. I sat hidden there among the broken
rafters, and idly watched the pylon gates, to see if, perchance, a
face I knew should issue from them. But none came forth or entered in,
though the great gates stood wide; and then I saw that herbs were
growing between the stones, where no herbs had grown for ages. What
could this be? Was the temple deserted? Nay; how could the worship of
the eternal Gods have ceased, that for thousands of years had, day by
day, been offered in the holy place? Was, then, my father dead? It
well might be. And yet, why this silence? Where were the priests:
where the worshippers?
I could bear the doubt no more, but as the sun sank red I crept like a
hunted jackal through the open gates, and on till I reached the first
great Hall of Pillars. Here I paused and gazed around me--not a sight,
not a sound, in the dim and holy place! I went on with a beating heart
to the second great hall, the hall of six-and-thirty pillars where I
had been crowned Lord of all the Lands: still not a sight or a sound!
Thence, half fearful of my own footfall, so terribly did it echo in
the silence of the deserted Holies, I passed down the passage of the
names of the Pharaohs towards my father's chamber. The curtain still
swung over the doorway; but what would there be within?--also
emptiness? I lifted it, and noiselessly passed in, and there in his
carven chair at the table on which his long white beard flowed, sat my
father, Amenemhat, clad in his priestly robes. At first I thought that
he was dead, he sat so still; but at length he turned his head, and I
saw that his eyes were white and sightless. He was blind, and his face
was thin as the face of a dead man, and woeful with age and grief.
I stood still and felt the blind eyes wandering over me. I could not
speak to him--I dared not speak to him; I would go and hide myself
afresh.
I had already turned and grasped the curtain, when my father spoke in
a deep, slow voice:
"Come hither, thou who wast my son and art a traitor. Come hither,
thou Harmachis, on whom Khem builded up her hope. Not in vain, then,
have I drawn thee from far away! Not in vain have I held my life in me
till I heard thy footfall creeping down these empty Holies, like the
footfall of a thief!"
"Oh! my father," I gasped, astonished. "Thou art blind: how knowest
thou me?"
"How do I know thee?--and askest thou that who hast learned of our
lore? Enough, I know thee and I brought thee hither. Would, Harmachis,
that I knew thee not! Would that I had been blasted of the Invisible
ere I drew thee down from the womb of Nout, to be my curse and shame,
and the last woe of Khem!"
"Oh, speak not thus!" I moaned; "is not my burden already more than I
can bear? Am I not myself betrayed and utterly outcast? Be pitiful, my
father!"
"Be pitiful!--be pitiful to thee who hast shown so great pity? It was
thy pity which gave up noble Sepa to die beneath the hands of the
tormentors!"
"Oh, not that--not that!" I cried.
"Ay, traitor, that!--to die in agony, with his last poor breath
proclaiming thee, his murderer, honest and innocent! Be pitiful to
thee, who gavest all the flower of Khem as the price of a wanton's
arms!--thinkest thou that, labouring in the darksome desert mines,
those noble ones in thought are pitiful to thee, Harmachis? Be pitiful
to thee, by whom this Holy Temple of Abouthis hath been ravaged, its
lands seized, its priests scattered, and I alone, old and withered,
left to count out its ruin--to thee, who hast poured the treasures of
/Her/ into thy leman's lap, who hast forsworn Thyself, thy Country,
thy Birthright, and thy Gods! Yea, thus am I pitiful: Accursed be
thou, fruit of my loins!--Shame be thy portion, Agony thy end, and
Hell receive thee at the last! Where art thou? Yea, I grew blind with
weeping when I heard the truth--sure, they strove to hide it from me.
Let me find thee that I may spit upon thee, thou Renegade! thou
Apostate! thou Outcast!"--and he rose from his seat and staggered like
a living Wrath toward me, smiting the air with his wand. And as he
came with outstretched arms, awful to see, suddenly his end found him,
and with a cry he sank down upon the ground, the red blood streaming
from his lips. I ran to him and lifted him; and as he died, he
babbled:
"He was my son, a bright-eyed lovely boy, and full of promise as the
Spring; and now--and now--oh, would that he were dead!"
Then came a pause and the breath rattled in his throat.
"Harmachis," he gasped, "art there?"
"Yea, father."
"Harmachis, atone!--atone! Vengeance can still be wreaked--forgiveness
may still be won. There's gold; I've hidden it--Atoua--she can tell
thee--ah, this pain! Farewell!"
And he struggled faintly in my arms and was dead.
Thus, then, did I and my holy father, the Prince Amenemhat, meet
together for the last time in the flesh, and for the last time part.
