Before the sun had risen the next morning, Nemu got himself ferried
over the Nile, with the small white ass which Mena’s deceased father had
given him many years before. He availed himself of the cool hour which
precedes the rising of the sun for his ride through the Necropolis.
Well acquainted as he was with every stock and stone, he avoided the
high roads which led to the goal of his expedition, and trotted towards
the hill which divides the valley of the royal tombs from the plain of
the Nile.
Before him opened a noble amphitheatre of lofty lime-stone peaks, the
background of the stately terrace-temple which the proud ancestress of
two kings of the fallen family, the great Hatasu, had erected to their
memory, and to the Goddess Hathor.
Nemu left the sanctuary to his left, and rode up the steep hill-path
which was the nearest way from the plain to the valley of the tombs.
Below him lay a bird’s eye view of the terrace-building of Hatasu, and
before him, still slumbering in cool dawn, was the Necropolis with its
houses and temples and colossal statues, the broad Nile glistening with
white sails under the morning mist; and, in the distant east, rosy with
the coming sun, stood Thebes and her gigantic temples.
But the dwarf saw nothing of the glorious panorama that lay at his feet;
absorbed in thought, and stooping over the neck of his ass, he let the
panting beast climb and rest at its pleasure.
When he had reached half the height of the hill, he perceived the sound
of footsteps coming nearer and nearer to him.
The vigorous walker had soon reached him, and bid him good morning,
which he civilly returned.
The hill-path was narrow, and when Nemu observed that the man who
followed him was a priest, he drew up his donkey on a level spot, and
said reverently:
“Pass on, holy father; for thy two feet carry thee quicker than my
four.”
“A sufferer needs my help,” replied the leech Nebsecht, Pentaur’s
friend, whom we have already seen in the House of Seti, and by the bed
of the paraschites’ daughter; and he hastened on so as to gain on the
slow pace of the rider.
Then rose the glowing disk of the sun above the eastern horizon, and
from the sanctuaries below the travellers rose up the pious many-voiced
chant of praise.
Nemu slipped off his ass, and assumed an attitude of prayer; the priest
did the same; but while the dwarf devoutly fixed his eyes on the new
birth of the Sun-God from the eastern range, the priest’s eyes wandered
to the earth, and his raised hand fell to pick up a rare fossil shell
which lay on the path.
In a few minutes Nebsecht rose, and Nemu followed him.
“It is a fine morning,” said the dwarf; “the holy fathers down there
seem more cheerful to-day than usual.”
The surgeon laughed assent. “Do you belong to the Necropolis?” he said.
“Who here keeps dwarfs?”
“No one,” answered the little man. “But I will ask thee a question. Who
that lives here behind the hill is of so much importance, that a leech
from the House of Seti sacrifices his night’s rest for him?”
“The one I visit is mean, but the suffering is great,” answered
Nebsecht.
Nemu looked at him with admiration, and muttered, “That is noble,
that is----” but he did not finish his speech; he struck his brow and
exclaimed, “You are going, by the desire of the Princess Bent-Anat, to
the child of the paraschites that was run over. I guessed as much. The
food must have an excellent after-taste, if a gentleman rises so early
to eat it. How is the poor child doing?”
There was so much warmth in these last words that Nebsecht, who had
thought the dwarf’s reproach uncalled for, answered in a friendly tone:
“Not so badly; she may be saved.”
“The Gods be praised!” exclaimed Nemu, while the priest passed on.
Nebsecht went up and down the hillside at a redoubled pace, and had long
taken his place by the couch of the wounded Uarda in the hovel of the
paraschites, when Nemu drew near to the abode of his Mother Hekt, from
whom Paaker had received the philter.
The old woman sat before the door of her cave. Near her lay a board,
fitted with cross pieces, between which a little boy was stretched in
such a way that they touched his head and his feet.
Hekt understood the art of making dwarfs; playthings in human form were
well paid for, and the child on the rack, with his pretty little face,
promised to be a valuable article.
As soon as the sorceress saw some one approaching, she stooped over the
child, took him up board and all in her arms, and carried him into the
cave. Then she said sternly:
“If you move, little one, I will flog you. Now let me tie you.”
“Don’t tie me,” said the child, “I will be good and lie still.”
“Stretch yourself out,” ordered the old woman, and tied the child with
a rope to the board. “If you are quiet, I’ll give you a honey-cake
by-and-bye, and let you play with the young chickens.”
The child was quiet, and a soft smile of delight and hope sparkled in
his pretty eyes. His little hand caught the dress of the old woman, and
with the sweetest coaxing tone, which God bestows on the innocent voices
of children, he said:
“I will be as still as a mouse, and no one shall know that I am here;
but if you give me the honeycake you will untie me for a little, and let
me go to Uarda.”
“She is ill!--what do you want there?”
“I would take her the cake,” said the child, and his eyes glistened with
tears.
The old woman touched the child’s chin with her finger, and some
mysterious power prompted her to bend over him to kiss him. But before
her lips had touched his face she turned away, and said, in a hard tone:
“Lie still! by and bye we will see.” Then she stooped, and threw a brown
sack over the child. She went back into the open air, greeted Nemu,
entertained him with milk, bread and honey, gave him news of the girl
who had been run over, for he seemed to take her misfortune very much to
heart, and finally asked:
“What brings you here? The Nile was still narrow when you last found
your way to me, and now it has been falling some time.
[This is the beginning of November. The Nile begins slowly to rise
early in June; between the 15th and 20th of July it suddenly swells
rapidly, and in the first half of October, not, as was formerly
supposed, at the end of September, the inundation reaches its
highest level. Heinrich Barth established these data beyond
dispute. After the water has begun to sink it rises once more in
October and to a higher level than before. Then it soon falls, at
first slowly, but by degrees quicker and quicker.]
Are you sent by your mistress, or do you want my help? All the world is
alike. No one goes to see any one else unless he wants to make use of
him. What shall I give you?”
“I want nothing,” said the dwarf, “but--”
“You are commissioned by a third person,” said the witch, laughing. “It
is the same thing. Whoever wants a thing for some one else only thinks
of his own interest.”
“May be,” said Nemu. “At any rate your words show that you have not
grown less wise since I saw you last--and I am glad of it, for I want
your advice.”
“Advice is cheap. What is going on out there?” Nemu related to his
mother shortly, clearly, and without reserve, what was plotting in
his mistress’s house, and the frightful disgrace with which she was
threatened through her son.
The old woman shook her grey head thoughtfully several times: but she
let the little man go on to the end of his story without interrupting
him. Then she asked, and her eyes flashed as she spoke:
“And you really believe that you will succeed in putting the sparrow on
the eagle’s perch--Ani on the throne of Rameses?”
“The troops fighting in Ethiopia are for us,” cried Nemu. “The priests
declare themselves against the king, and recognize in Ani the genuine
blood of Ra.”
“That is much,” said the old woman.
“And many dogs are the death of the gazelle,” said Nemu laughing.
“But Rameses is not a gazelle to run, but a lion,” said the old woman
gravely. “You are playing a high game.”
“We know it,” answered Nemu. “But it is for high stakes--there is much
to win.”
“And all to lose,” muttered the old woman, passing her fingers round her
scraggy neck. “Well, do as you please--it is all the same to me who it
is sends the young to be killed, and drives the old folks’ cattle from
the field. What do they want with me?”
“No one has sent me,” answered the dwarf. “I come of my own free fancy
to ask you what Katuti must do to save her son and her house from
dishonor.”
“Hm!” hummed the witch, looking at Nemu while she raised herself on
her stick. “What has come to you that you take the fate of these great
people to heart as if it were your own?”
The dwarf reddened, and answered hesitatingly, “Katuti is a good
mistress, and, if things go well with her, there may be windfalls for
you and me.”
Hekt shook her head doubtfully.
“A loaf for you perhaps, and a crumb for me!” she said. “There is more
than that in your mind, and I can read your heart as if you were a
ripped up raven. You are one of those who can never keep their fingers
at rest, and must knead everybody’s dough; must push, and drive and stir
something. Every jacket is too tight for you. If you were three feet
taller, and the son of a priest, you might have gone far. High you will
go, and high you will end; as the friend of a king--or on the gallows.”
The old woman laughed; but Nemu bit his lips, and said:
“If you had sent me to school, and if I were not the son of a witch,
and a dwarf, I would play with men as they have played with me; for I am
cleverer than all of them, and none of their plans are hidden from me.
A hundred roads lie before me, when they don’t know whether to go out
or in; and where they rush heedlessly forwards I see the abyss that they
are running to.”
“And nevertheless you come to me?” said the old woman sarcastically.
“I want your advice,” said Nemu seriously. “Four eyes see more than one,
and the impartial looker-on sees clearer than the player; besides you
are bound to help me.”
The old woman laughed loud in astonishment. “Bound!” she said, “I? and
to what if you please?”
“To help me,” replied the dwarf, half in entreaty, and half in reproach.
“You deprived me of my growth, and reduced me to a cripple.”
“Because no one is better off than you dwarfs,” interrupted the witch.
Nemu shook his head, and answered sadly--
“You have often said so--and perhaps for many others, who are born in
misery like me--perhaps-you are right; but for me--you have spoilt my
life; you have crippled not my body only but my soul, and have condemned
me to sufferings that are nameless and unutterable.”
The dwarf’s big head sank on his breast, and with his left hand he
pressed his heart.
The old woman went up to him kindly.
“What ails you?” she asked, “I thought it was well with you in Mena’s
house.”
“You thought so?” cried the dwarf. “You who show me as in a mirror what
I am, and how mysterious powers throng and stir in me? You made me what
I am by your arts; you sold me to the treasurer of Rameses, and he gave
me to the father of Mena, his brother-in-law. Fifteen years ago! I was
a young man then, a youth like any other, only more passionate, more
restless, and fiery than they. I was given as a plaything to the young
Mena, and he harnessed me to his little chariot, and dressed me out with
ribbons and feathers, and flogged me when I did not go fast enough. How
the girl--for whom I would have given my life--the porter’s daughter,
laughed when I, dressed up in motley, hopped panting in front of the
chariot and the young lord’s whip whistled in my ears wringing the sweat
from my brow, and the blood from my broken heart. Then Mena’s father
died, the boy, went to school, and I waited on the wife of his steward,
whom Katuti banished to Hermonthis. That was a time! The little daughter
of the house made a doll of me,
[Dolls belonging to the time of the Pharaohs are preserved in the
museums, for instance, the jointed ones at Leyden.]
laid me in the cradle, and made me shut my eyes and pretend to sleep,
while love and hatred, and great projects were strong within me. If
I tried to resist they beat me with rods; and when once, in a rage, I
forgot myself, and hit little Mertitefs hard, Mena, who came in, hung me
up in the store-room to a nail by my girdle, and left me to swing there;
he said he had forgotten to take me down again. The rats fell upon me;
here are the scars, these little white spots here--look! They perhaps
will some day wear out, but the wounds that my spirit received in those
hours have not yet ceased to bleed. Then Mena married Nefert, and, with
her, his mother-in-law, Katuti, came into the house. She took me from
the steward, I became indispensable to her; she treats me like a man,
she values my intelligence and listens to my advice,--therefore I will
make her great, and with her, and through her, I will wax mighty. If Ani
mounts the throne, we wilt guide him--you, and I, and she! Rameses must
fall, and with him Mena, the boy who degraded my body and poisoned my
soul!”
During this speech the old woman had stood in silence opposite the
dwarf. Now she sat down on her rough wooden seat, and said, while she
proceeded to pluck a lapwing:
“Now I understand you; you wish to be revenged. You hope to rise high,
and I am to whet your knife, and hold the ladder for you. Poor little
man! there, sit down-drink a gulp of milk to cool you, and listen to my
advice. Katuti wants a great deal of money to escape dishonor. She need
only pick it up--it lies at her door.” The dwarf looked at the witch in
astonishment.
“The Mohar Paaker is her sister Setchem’s son. Is he not?”
“As you say.”
“Katuti’s daughter Nefert is the wife of your master Mena, and another
would like to tempt the neglected little hen into his yard.”
“You mean Paaker, to whom Nefert was promised before she went after
Mena.”
“Paaker was with me the day before yesterday.”
“With you?”
“Yes, with me, with old Hekt--to buy a love philter. I gave him one, and
as I was curious I went after him, saw him give the water to the little
lady, and found out her name.”
“And Nefert drank the magic drink?” asked the dwarf horrified. “Vinegar
and turnip juice,” laughed the old witch. “A lord who comes to me to win
a wife is ripe for any thing. Let Nefert ask Paaker for the money, and
the young scapegrace’s debts are paid.”
“Katuti is proud, and repulsed me severely when I proposed this.”
“Then she must sue to Paaker herself for the money. Go back to him, make
him hope that Nefert is inclined to him, tell him what distresses the
ladies, and if he refuses, but only if he refuses, let him see that you
know something of the little dose.”
The dwarf looked meditatively on the ground, and then said, looking
admiringly at the old woman: “That is the right thing.”
“You will find out the lie without my telling you,” mumbled the witch;
“your business is not perhaps such a bad one as it seemed to me at
first. Katuti may thank the ne’er-do-well who staked his father’s
corpse. You don’t understand me? Well, if you are really the sharpest of
them all over there, what must the others be?”
“You mean that people will speak well of my mistress for sacrificing so
large a sum for the sake--?”
“Whose sake? why speak well of her?” cried the old woman impatiently.
“Here we deal with other things, with actual facts. There stands
Paaker--there the wife of Mena. If the Mohar sacrifices a fortune for
Nefert, he will be her master, and Katuti will not stand in his way; she
knows well enough why her nephew pays for her. But some one else stops
the way, and that is Mena. It is worth while to get him out of the way.
The charioteer stands close to the Pharaoh, and the noose that is flung
at one may easily fall round the neck of the other too. Make the Mohar
your ally, and it may easily happen that your rat-bites may be paid for
with mortal wounds, and Rameses who, if you marched against him openly,
might blow you to the ground, may be hit by a lance thrown from an
ambush. When the throne is clear, the weak legs of the Regent may
succeed in clambering up to it with the help of the priests. Here you
sit-open-mouthed; and I have told you nothing that you might not have
found out for yourself.”
“You are a perfect cask of wisdom!” exclaimed the dwarf.
“And now you will go away,” said Hekt, “and reveal your schemes to your
mistress and the Regent, and they will be astonished at your cleverness.
To-day you still know that I have shown you what you have to do;
to-morrow you will have forgotten it; and the day after to-morrow you
will believe yourself possessed by the inspiration of the nine great
Gods. I know that; but I cannot give anything for nothing. You live by
your smallness, another makes his living with his hard hands, I earn my
scanty bread by the thoughts of my brain. Listen! when you have half won
Paaker, and Ani shows himself inclined to make use of him, then say to
him that I may know a secret--and I do know one, I alone--which may make
the Mohar the sport of his wishes, and that I may be disposed to sell
it.”
“That shall be done! certainly, mother,” cried the dwarf. “What do you
wish for?”
“Very little,” said the old woman. “Only a permit that makes me free to
do and to practise whatever I please, unmolested even by the priests,
and to receive an honorable burial after my death.”
“The Regent will hardly agree to that; for he must avoid everything that
may offend the servants of the Gods.”
“And do everything,” retorted the old woman, “that can degrade Rameses
in their sight. Ani, do you hear, need not write me a new license,
but only renew the old one granted to me by Rameses when I cured his
favorite horse. They burnt it with my other possessions, when they
plundered my house, and denounced me and my belongings for sorcery. The
permit of Rameses is what I want, nothing more.”
“You shall have it,” said the dwarf. “Good-by; I am charged to look into
the tomb of our house, and see whether the offerings for the dead are
regularly set out; to pour out fresh essences and have various things
renewed. When Sechet has ceased to rage, and it is cooler, I shall come
by here again, for I should like to call on the paraschites, and see how
the poor child is.”