The sun had set, and darkness covered the City of the Dead, but the moon
shone above the valley of the kings’ tombs, and the projecting masses
of the rocky walls of the chasm threw sharply-defined shadows. A weird
silence lay upon the desert, where yet far more life was stirring than
in the noonday hour, for now bats darted like black silken threads
through the night air, owls hovered aloft on wide-spread wings, small
troops of jackals slipped by, one following the other up the mountain
slopes. From time to time their hideous yell, or the whining laugh of
the hyena, broke the stillness of the night.
Nor was human life yet at rest in the valley of tombs. A faint light
glimmered in the cave of the sorceress Hekt, and in front of the
paraschites’ but a fire was burning, which the grandmother of the sick
Uarda now and then fed with pieces of dry manure. Two men were seated in
front of the hut, and gazed in silence on the thin flame, whose impure
light was almost quenched by the clearer glow of the moon; whilst the
third, Uarda’s father, disembowelled a large ram, whose head he had
already cut off.
“How the jackals howl!” said the old paraschites, drawing as he spoke
the torn brown cotton cloth, which he had put on as a protection against
the night air and the dew, closer round his bare shoulders.
“They scent the fresh meat,” answered the physician, Nebsecht. “Throw
them the entrails, when you have done; the legs and back you can roast.
Be careful how you cut out the heart--the heart, soldier. There it is!
What a great beast.”
Nebsecht took the ram’s heart in his hand, and gazed at it with the
deepest attention, whilst the old paraschites watched him anxiously. At
length:
“I promised,” he said, “to do for you what you wish, if you restore the
little one to health; but you ask for what is impossible.”
“Impossible?” said the physician, “why, impossible? You open the
corpses, you go in and out of the house of the embalmer. Get possession
of one of the canopi,
[Vases of clay, limestone, or alabaster, which were used for the
preservation of the intestines of the embalmed Egyptians, and
represented the four genii of death, Amset, Hapi, Tuamutef, and
Khebsennuf. Instead of the cover, the head of the genius to which
it was dedicated, was placed on each kanopus. Amset (tinder the
protection of Isis) has a human head, Hapi (protected by Nephthys)
an ape’s head, Tuamutef (protected by Neith) a jackal’s head, and
Khebsennuf (protected by Selk) a sparrow-hawk’s head. In one of the
Christian Coptic Manuscripts, the four archangels are invoked in the
place of these genii.]
lay this heart in it, and take out in its stead the heart of a human
being. No one--no one will notice it. Nor need you do it to-morrow, or
the day after tomorrow even. Your son can buy a ram to kill every day
with my money till the right moment comes. Your granddaughter will soon
grow strong on a good meat-diet. Take courage!”
“I am not afraid of the danger,” said the old man, “but how can I
venture to steal from a dead man his life in the other world? And
then--in shame and misery have I lived, and for many a year--no man
has numbered them for me--have I obeyed the commandments, that I may be
found righteous in that world to come, and in the fields of Aalu, and
in the Sun-bark find compensation for all that I have suffered here. You
are good and friendly. Why, for the sake of a whim, should you sacrifice
the future bliss of a man, who in all his long life has never known
happiness, and who has never done you any harm?”
“What I want with the heart,” replied the physician, “you cannot
understand, but in procuring it for me, you will be furthering a great
and useful purpose. I have no whims, for I am no idler. And as to what
concerns your salvation, have no anxiety. I am a priest, and take your
deed and its consequences upon myself; upon myself, do you understand?
I tell you, as a priest, that what I demand of you is right, and if the
judge of the dead shall enquire, ‘Why didst thou take the heart of a
human being out of the Kanopus?’ then reply--reply to him thus, ‘Because
Nebsecht, the priest, commanded me, and promised himself to answer for
the deed.’”
The old man gazed thoughtfully on the ground, and the physician
continued still more urgently:
“If you fulfil my wish, then--then I swear to you that, when you die, I
will take care that your mummy is provided with all the amulets, and I
myself will write you a book of the Entrance into Day, and have it wound
within your mummy-cloth, as is done with the great.
[The Books of the Dead are often found amongst the cloths, (by the
leg or under the arm), or else in the coffin trader, or near, the
mummy.]
That will give you power over all demons, and you will be admitted to
the hall of the twofold justice, which punishes and rewards, and your
award will be bliss.”
“But the theft of a heart will make the weight of my sins heavy, when my
own heart is weighed,” sighed the old man.
Nebsecht considered for a moment, and then said: “I will give you a
written paper, in which I will certify that it was I who commanded the
theft. You will sew it up in a little bag, carry it on your breast, and
have it laid with you in the grave. Then when Techuti, the agent of the
soul, receives your justification before Osiris and the judges of the
dead, give him the writing. He will read it aloud, and you will be
accounted just.”
[The vignettes of Chapter 125 of the Book of the Dead represent the
Last Judgment of the Egyptians. Under a canopy Osiris sits
enthroned as Chief Judge, 42 assessors assist him. In the hall
stand the scales; the dog headed ape, the animal sacred to Toth,
guides the balance. In one scale lies the heart of the dead man, in
the other the image of the goddess of Truth, who introduces the soul
into the hall of justice Toth writs the record. The soul affirms
that it has not committed 42 deadly sins, and if it obtains credit,
it is named “maa cheru,” i.e. “the truth-speaker,” and is therewith
declared blessed. It now receives its heart back, and grows into a
new and divine life.]
“I am not learned in writing,” muttered the paraschites with a slight
mistrust that made itself felt in his voice.
“But I swear to you by the nine great Gods, that I will write nothing
on the paper but what I have promised you. I will confess that I, the
priest Nebsecht, commanded you to take the heart, and that your guilt is
mine.”
“Let me have the writing then,” murmured the old man.
The physician wiped the perspiration from his forehead, and gave the
paraschites his hand. “To-morrow you shall have it,” he said, “and I
will not leave your granddaughter till she is well again.”
The soldier engaged in cutting up the ram, had heard nothing of this
conversation. Now he ran a wooden spit through the legs, and held them
over the fire to roast them. The jackals howled louder as the smell of
the melting fat filled the air, and the old man, as he looked on, forgot
the terrible task he had undertaken. For a year past, no meat had been
tasted in his house.
The physician Nebsecht, himself eating nothing but a piece of bread,
looked on at the feasters. They tore the meat from the bones, and the
soldier, especially, devoured the costly and unwonted meal like some
ravenous animal. He could be heard chewing like a horse in the manger,
and a feeling of disgust filled the physician’s soul.
“Sensual beings,” he murmured to himself, “animals with consciousness!
And yet human beings. Strange! They languish bound in the fetters of the
world of sense, and yet how much more ardently they desire that which
transcends sense than we--how much more real it is to them than to us!”
“Will you have some meat?” cried the soldier, who had remarked that
Nebsecht’s lips moved, and tearing a piece of meat from the bone of the
joint he was devouring, he held it out to the physician. Nebsecht shrank
back; the greedy look, the glistening teeth, the dark, rough features of
the man terrified him. And he thought of the white and fragile form of
the sick girl lying within on the mat, and a question escaped his lips.
“Is the maiden, is Uarda, your own child?” he said.
The soldier struck himself on the breast. “So sure as the king Rameses
is the son of Seti,” he answered. The men had finished their meal, and
the flat cakes of bread which the wife of the paraschites gave them, and
on which they had wiped their hands from the fat, were consumed,
when the soldier, in whose slow brain the physician’s question still
lingered, said, sighing deeply:
“Her mother was a stranger; she laid the white dove in the raven’s
nest.”
“Of what country was your wife a native?” asked the physician.
“That I do not know,” replied the soldier.
“Did you never enquire about the family of your own wife?”
“Certainly I did: but how could she have answered me? But it is a long
and strange story.”
“Relate it to me,” said Nebsecht, “the night is long, and I like
listening better than talking. But first I will see after our patient.”
When the physician had satisfied himself that Uarda was sleeping quietly
and breathing regularly, he seated himself again by the paraschites and
his son, and the soldier began:
“It all happened long ago. King Seti still lived, but Rameses already
reigned in his stead, when I came home from the north. They had sent me
to the workmen, who were building the fortifications in Zoan, the town
of Rameses.--[The Rameses of the Bible. Exodus i. ii.]--I was set over
six men, Amus,--[Semites]--of the Hebrew race, over whom Rameses kept
such a tight hand.
[For an account of the traces of the Jews in Egypt, see Chabas,
Melanges, and Ebers, AEgypten und die Bucher Moses]
Amongst the workmen there were sons of rich cattle-holders, for in
levying the people it was never: ‘What have you?’ but ‘Of what race are
you?’ The fortifications and the canal which was to join the Nile and
the Red Sea had to be completed, and the king, to whom be long life,
health, and prosperity, took the youth of Egypt with him to the wars,
and left the work to the Amus, who are connected by race with his
enemies in the east. One lives well in Goshen, for it is a fine country,
with more than enough of corn and grass and vegetables and fish and
fowls, and I always had of the best, for amongst my six people were two
mother’s darlings, whose parents sent me many a piece of silver. Every
one loves his children, but the Hebrews love them more tenderly than
other people. We had daily our appointed tale of bricks to deliver, and
when the sun burnt hot, I used to help the lads, and I did more in an
hour than they did in three, for I am strong and was still stronger then
than I am now.
“Then came the time when I was relieved. I was ordered to return to
Thebes, to the prisoners of war who were building the great temple of
Amon over yonder, and as I had brought home some money, and it would
take a good while to finish the great dwelling of the king of the Gods,
I thought of taking a wife; but no Egyptian. Of daughters of paraschites
there were plenty; but I wanted to get away out of my father’s
accursed caste, and the other girls here, as I knew, were afraid of our
uncleanness. In the low country I had done better, and many an Amu and
Schasu woman had gladly come to my tent. From the beginning I had set my
mind on an Asiatic.
“Many a time maidens taken prisoners in war were brought to be sold, but
either they did not please me, or they were too dear. Meantime my money
melted away, for we enjoyed life in the time of rest which followed the
working hours. There were dancers too in plenty, in the foreign quarter.
“Well, it was just at the time of the holy feast of Amon-Chem, that a
new transport of prisoners of war arrived, and amongst them many women,
who were sold publicly to the highest bidder. The young and beautiful
ones were paid for high, but even the older ones were too dear for me.
“Quite at the last a blind woman was led forward, and a withered-looking
woman who was dumb, as the auctioneer, who generally praised up the
merits of the prisoners, informed the buyers. The blind woman had
strong hands, and was bought by a tavern-keeper, for whom she turns the
handmill to this day; the dumb woman held a child in her arms, and no
one could tell whether she was young or old. She looked as though she
already lay in her coffin, and the little one as though he would go
under the grass before her. And her hair was red, burning red, the very
color of Typhon. Her white pale face looked neither bad nor good, only
weary, weary to death. On her withered white arms blue veins ran like
dark cords, her hands hung feebly down, and in them hung the child. If a
wind were to rise, I thought to myself, it would blow her away, and the
little one with her.
“The auctioneer asked for a bid. All were silent, for the dumb shadow
was of no use for work; she was half-dead, and a burial costs money.
“So passed several minutes. Then the auctioneer stepped up to her, and
gave her a blow with his whip, that she might rouse herself up, and
appear less miserable to the buyers. She shivered like a person in a
fever, pressed the child closer to her, and looked round at every one as
though seeking for help--and me full in the face. What happened now was
a real wonder, for her eyes were bigger than any that I ever saw, and a
demon dwelt in them that had power over me and ruled me to the end, and
that day it bewitched me for the first time.
“It was not hot and I had drunk nothing, and yet I acted against my own
will and better judgment when, as her eyes fell upon me, I bid all
that I possessed in order to buy her. I might have had her cheaper! My
companions laughed at me, the auctioneer shrugged his shoulders as he
took my money, but I took the child on my arm, helped the woman up,
carried her in a boat over the Nile, loaded a stone-cart with my
miserable property, and drove her like a block of lime home to the old
people.
“My mother shook her head, and my father looked as if he thought me mad;
but neither of them said a word. They made up a bed for her, and on my
spare nights I built that ruined thing hard by--it was a tidy hut once.
Soon my mother grew fond of the child. It was quite small, and we called
it Pennu--[Pennu is the name for the mouse in old Egyptian]--because
it was so pretty, like a little mouse. I kept away from the foreign
quarter, and saved my wages, and bought a goat, which lived in front of
our door when I took the woman to her own hut.
“She was dumb, but not deaf, only she did not understand our language;
but the demon in her eyes spoke for her and understood what I said. She
comprehended everything, and could say everything with her eyes; but
best of all she knew how to thank one. No high-priest who at the great
hill festival praises the Gods in long hymns for their gifts can return
thanks so earnestly with his lips as she with her dumb eyes. And when
she wished to pray, then it seemed as though the demon in her look was
mightier than ever.
“At first I used to be impatient enough when she leaned so feebly
against the wall, or when the child cried and disturbed my sleep; but
she had only to look up, and the demon pressed my heart together and
persuaded me that the crying was really a song. Pennu cried more sweetly
too than other children, and he had such soft, white, pretty little
fingers.
“One day he had been crying for a long time, At last I bent down over
him, and was going to scold him, but he seized me by the beard. It was
pretty to see! Afterwards he was for ever wanting to pull me about,
and his mother noticed that that pleased me, for when I brought home
anything good, an egg or a flower or a cake, she used to hold him up and
place his little hands on my beard.
“Yes, in a few months the woman had learnt to hold him up high in her
arms, for with care and quiet she had grown stronger. White she always
remained and delicate, but she grew younger and more beautiful from day
to day; she can hardly have numbered twenty years when I bought her.
What she was called I never heard; nor did we give her any name. She was
‘the woman,’ and so we called her.
“Eight moons passed by, and then the little Mouse died. I wept as she
did, and as I bent over the little corpse and let my tears have free
course, and thought--now he can never lift up his pretty little finger
to you again; then I felt for the first time the woman’s soft hand on my
cheek. She stroked my rough beard as a child might, and with that looked
at me so gratefully that I felt as though king Pharaoh had all at once
made me a present of both Upper and Lower Egypt.
“When the Mouse was buried she got weaker again, but my mother took good
care of her. I lived with her, like a father with his child. She was
always friendly, but if I approached her, and tried to show her any
fondness, she would look at me, and the demon in her eyes drove me back,
and I let her alone.
“She grew healthier and stronger and more and more beautiful, so
beautiful that I kept her hidden, and was consumed by the longing to
make her my wife. A good housewife she never became, to be sure; her
hands were so tender, and she did not even know how to milk the goat. My
mother did that and everything else for her.
“In the daytime she stayed in her hut and worked, for she was very
skillful at woman’s work, and wove lace as fine as cobwebs, which my
mother sold that she might bring home perfumes with the proceeds. She
was very fond of them, and of flowers too; and Uarda in there takes
after her.
“In the evening, when the folk from the other side had left the City
of the Dead, she would often walk down the valley here, thoughtful and
often looking up at the moon, which she was especially fond of.
“One evening in the winter-time I came home. It was already dark, and I
expected to find her in front of the door. All at once, about a hundred
steps behind old Hekt’s cave, I heard a troop of jackals barking so
furiously that I said to myself directly they had attacked a human
being, and I knew too who it was, though no one had told me, and the
woman could not call or cry out. Frantic with terror, I tore a firebrand
from the hearth and the stake to which the goat was fastened out of the
ground, rushed to her help, drove away the beasts, and carried her back
senseless to the hut. My mother helped me, and we called her back to
life. When we were alone, I wept like a child for joy at her escape, and
she let me kiss her, and then she became my wife, three years after I
had bought her.
“She bore me a little maid, that she herself named Uarda; for she showed
us a rose, and then pointed to the child, and we understood her without
words.
“Soon afterwards she died.
“You are a priest, but I tell you that when I am summoned before Osiris,
if I am admitted amongst the blessed, I will ask whether I shall meet my
wife, and if the doorkeeper says no, he may thrust me back, and I will
go down cheerfully to the damned, if I find her again there.”
“And did no sign ever betray her origin?” asked the physician.
The soldier had hidden his face in his hand; he was weeping aloud, and
did not hear the question. But, the paraschites answered:
“She was the child of some great personage, for in her clothes we found
a golden jewel with a precious stone inscribed with strange characters.
It is very costly, and my wife is keeping it for the little one.”