The Escape
They stood in the private apartments of the palace. Eunuchs guarded,
or were supposed to guard, the outer gates, for the Queen Rima was
still surrounded by the trappings of royalty, and at the door of her
chamber stood the giant Nubian, Ru, he who had been the body-servant
of King Kheperra, he who after slaying six of the Shepherds with his
own hand had rescued the body of his master, throwing it over his
shoulder and bearing it from the battle as a shepherd bears a lamb.
The Queen Rima and the Lady Kemmah had examined the garments brought
by Tau the Messenger, and hidden them away. Now they were consulting
together, near to a little bed on which the infant princess lay
asleep.
“Your plan is very dangerous,” said the Queen, who was much disturbed
and walked to and fro with her eyes fixed upon the sleeping babe. “You
ask me to fly to Memphis, that is, to walk into the jaws of the hyena.
This you do because a messenger is come from an aged uncle of yours
who is a hermit or a high priest, or a prophet of some secret sect,
and who, for aught you know, may have been dead for years and now be
but a bait upon a hook to catch us.”
“There is the cut amulet, Queen. See how well the pieces fit and how
that white line in the stone runs on from one to the other.”
“Doubtless they fit. Doubtless they are the halves of the same
talisman. But such holy things are famous and so is their story.
Mayhap someone knew that the priest Roy had given you one half of this
charm and took the other from his body, or stole it to be used to
deceive you and to give colour to the offer of a hiding place among
the dead. Who is this Tau of whom you never heard before? How came he
to find you so easily? How is it that he can pass in and out of Thebes
without question, he who comes from Memphis, holding all the threads
of these plots between his fingers, if plots there be?”
“I do not know who he is,” said Kemmah. “I know only that when these
same doubts crossed my mind, this messenger showed me the holy Roy
himself in proof of the truth of his message, and that then I
believed.”
“Aye, Kemmah, but bethink you. Are you not a priestess, one soaked in
the mysteries and magic of the Egyptians from your childhood, like to
this uncle of yours before you? Did you not see the vision of the
Egyptian goddesses Isis and Hathor blessing my child, which after all
is but an old tale retold of those who spring from the bodies of
kings? How comes it that no one else saw those goddesses?”
“How comes it that you dreamed of them, O Queen?” asked Kemmah drily.
“A dream is a dream. Who can give weight to dreams that come and go by
thousands, flitting round our heads like gnats in sleep to vanish into
the darkness whence they rose? A dream is a dream and of no account,
but a vision seen with the waking eye is another matter, something
that springs from madness--or perchance from truth. And now you have
another vision, that of an old man who, if he lives at all, dwells far
away, and on this unstable cloud you ask me to build a house of hope
and safety. How can I be sure that you are not mad, as indeed the wise
men of my country say that most of us are in this way or in that? You
behold gods, but are there any gods, and if so, why are the gods of
Egypt not the same as those of Babylon, and the gods of Babylon not
the same as those of Tyre? If there be gods, why are they all
different?”
“Because men are different, Queen, and every nation of them clothes
God in its own garments: aye, and every man and woman also.”
“May be, may be! Yet a stranger’s tale and a vision are poor props to
lean upon when life and safety hang in the balance and with them the
crown of Egypt. I’ll not trust myself and the babe to this man and his
boat lest soon both of us should sleep at the bottom of the Nile, or
lie awaiting death in some Shepherd dungeon. Let us bide where we are;
your gods can protect us as well here as by the Pyramids of Memphis,
should we live to reach them. Or if we must go, let these gods send us
some sign; they have still many hours in which to travel from their
heaven.”
Thus spoke Queen Rima wildly in her doubt and despair. Kemmah listened
and bowed her head.
“Let it be as the Queen pleases,” she said. “If the gods desire,
doubtless they will show us a path of escape. If they should not
desire so to do, then we can remain here and await their will, since
the gods are still the gods. Now, Lady, let us eat and rest, but let
us not sleep till that hour is past when we should have embarked upon
the ship of Tau the Messenger.”
So they ate, and afterwards, taking a lamp, Kemmah walked through the
palace and found it strangely silent. All seemed to have departed; as
one weak old slave told her, to attend the feast of the god of Nile
and to sail in boats upon the river.
“Such things would not have been allowed to happen in the old days,”
he said querulously, “for then, who ever heard of a palace being
deserted by those who were in attendance upon Majesty in order that
they might enjoy themselves elsewhere? But since the good god Kheperra
was killed by those Shepherd dogs in the battle everything seems to
have changed. Nobody thinks anything of service; everybody thinks of
himself and what he can get. And there is money going, Lady Kemmah, I
tell you there is money going. Oh! sitting in my corner I have seen
plenty of it being passed from hand to hand. Where it comes from I do
not know. I was even offered some myself, what for I do not know, but
refused it, for what do I want with money who am so old and draw my
rations from the stores, as I have done these fifty years, also my
summer and winter garments?”
Kemmah contemplated him with her quiet eyes, then answered:
“No, old Friend, you want nothing with money, since I know that your
tomb is provided. Tell me, you are acquainted with all the palace
doors, are you not, and the gates also?”
“Every one of them, Lady Kemmah, every one of them. When I was
stronger it used to be my office to lock them all, and I still have
the second set of keys, which no one has taken from me, and remember
the tricks of the inner bolts.”
“Then, Friend, grow strong again; even if it be for the last time, go
lock those doors and gates and shoot those bolts and bring the keys to
me in the private apartments. It will be a good trick to play upon
these revellers who are absent without leave when they return and find
that they cannot get in to sleep off their drink till after the sun
has risen.”
“Yes, yes, Lady Kemmah, a very good trick. I will get the keys and go,
following the round as I used to do and shooting the inner bolts that
I named after all the gods of the Underworld, so that I might never
forget the order in which they came. Oh! I will light my lantern and
go at once, as though I were young again, and my wife and little
children were waiting to receive me at the end of my round.”
The half of an hour later the old man reappeared at the private
chambers, announcing that all the gates and doors were locked, and
that strangely enough he had found every one of them open and the keys
missing.
“They forgot that I had their twins,” he said, chuckling, “also that I
knew how to shoot the inner bolts; I whom they look upon as a silly
old fool only fit for the embalmer’s bath. Here are the keys, Lady
Kemmah, which I shall be glad to be rid of for they are a great
weight. Take them and promise not to tell that it was I who locked the
doors and forced all those idle people to sleep out in the cold. For
if you do they will beat me to-morrow. Now if you had a cup of wine!”
Kemmah fetched drink and gave it to the aged man, mixed with water
that it might not be too strong for him. Then, while he smacked his
lips refreshed by the liquor, she bade him go to the little gatehouse
of the private apartments and watch there, and if he should see any
approaching the gate, to make report to Ru, who kept guard at the door
which was at the foot of the eight stairs that led to the ante-chamber
of the apartments.
This, encouraged by the wine and by a sense that once more he was
taking part in the affairs of life, though what these might be he did
not understand, the old fellow said that he would do and departed to
his station.
Then Kemmah went and talked earnestly with the giant Ru, who listened,
nodding his head, and as he did so girt his armour of bull’s hide upon
his mighty frame. Moreover, he looked to see that his javelins were
loose in their sheath and that the edge of his great bronze battle-axe
was sharp. Lastly he set lamps in the niches of the wall in such
fashion that if the door were forced their light would fall upon those
coming up the stair, while he, standing at the head of it, would
remain in shadow.
These things done, Kemmah returned to the Queen, who sat brooding by
the bed of the child, but of them to her she said nothing.
“Why do you carry a spear in your hand, Kemmah?” asked Rima, looking
up.
“Because it makes a good staff to lean upon, Queen, and one that at
need may serve another purpose. This place seems very still and
fateful and who knows but that in the stillness we may hear some god
speaking ere the dawn, telling us whether we should take ship with
Tau, or bide where we are?”
“You are a strange woman, Kemmah,” said the Queen, and once more fell
to her brooding till at length she sank to sleep.
But Kemmah did not sleep; she waited and watched the curtains that hid
the stair on which Ru kept guard. At length in the intense silence of
the night that was broken only now and again by the melancholy note of
some dog howling at the moon, for all the inhabitants of the city
seemed to be absent at the festival, Kemmah thought she heard the
sound as of gates or doors being shaken by someone trying to enter
them. Rising softly she went to the curtains beyond which Ru was
seated on the topmost stair.
“Did you note anything?” she asked.
“Aye, Lady,” he answered. “Men try to enter by the gates, but find
them closed. The old slave reported to me that they were coming and
has fled to hide himself. Now go up to the top of the little pylon
above this door and tell me if you can see aught.”
Kemmah went, climbing a narrow stair in the dark, and presently found
herself on the roof of the pylon some thirty feet above the ground,
where in times of trouble a watchman was stationed. Round it ran a
battlement with openings through which arrows could be shot or spears
thrown. The moon shone brightly, flooding the palace gardens and the
great city beyond them with silver light, but the Nile she could not
see because of the roofs behind her, though she heard the distant
murmur of those who kept festival upon its waters, from which they
would not return until the sun had risen.
Presently in the shadow of one of the great gateways she saw a group
of men standing and, as it seemed to her, taking counsel together.
They moved out of the shadow and she counted them. They were eight in
all, armed every one of them, for the light shone upon their spears.
They came to some decision, for they began to walk across the open
court towards the private door of the royal apartments. Kemmah ran
down the stairs and told Ru what she had seen.
“Now were I standing on that roof perhaps I might put a javelin into
one or more of these night birds before they come to the doors,” he
said.
“Nay,” answered Kemmah. “They may be messengers of peace, or soldiers
who will guard the Queen. Wait to smite till they show themselves
otherwise.”
He nodded and said:
“Yonder door is old and not of the strongest. It can soon be battered
in and then perhaps there will be fighting--one man against eight,
Lady Kemmah. What if aught should happen to me, Lady Kemmah? Is there
any other way by which the Queen and the royal babe may escape?”
“Nay, for the doors into the great hall where the Council was held are
barred; I have tried them. There is no way save by leaping from the
palace wall at the back, and a babe’s bones are tender. Therefore, Ru,
nothing must happen to you. Pray the gods to give you strength and
cunning.”
“Of the first I have plenty, of the second I fear but little. Still I
will do my best and may Osiris be good to him on whom my axe falls.”
“Hearken, Ru. Should you scotch those snakes or cause them to run,
make ready to fly with us and be not astonished if instead of a Queen
and a waiting-lady, you see two peasant women and a peasant’s babe.”
“I am not easily astonished, Lady, and I weary of this Thebes since
the good god my master fell and all these upstarts began to plot with
Apepi, as plot they do. But whither will you fly?”
“I think that a ship waits us by the private quay, and its captain,
one Tau, will meet us two hours before the dawn, that is before so
very long, in the shadow of the old shrine. You know the place.”
“Aye, I know it. Hush! I hear footsteps.”
“Parley with them as long as you may, Ru, for there are things to be
done.”
“Yes, there is plenty to be done,” he answered as she fled back
through the curtains.
The Queen woke at her step.
“Your gods have not come, Kemmah,” she said, “or given any sign. So I
suppose it is fated that we should stop here.”
“I think that the gods--or devils--are coming, Queen. Now off with
those robes and be swift. Nay, talk not, I pray, but do as I bid you.”
Rima glanced at her face and obeyed. Within a very little time, all
being prepared to their hands, the three of them were changed into
farmer women and a farmer’s babe. Then Kemmah took a sack and thrust
into it all the ancient priceless jewels, the regalia of the old
Pharaohs of Egypt, and these were not few; also a sum in gold.
“This gear of crowns and sceptres and gems and gold which you have got
together so carefully will be too heavy for us to carry, Kemmah, who
have that which is more precious to bear between us,” and she glanced
at the child.
“There is one yonder who will carry it, Queen, one who carried
something else on his shoulder out of the battle. Or if he cannot,
then I think it will not matter who takes the gathered wealth of the
Pharaohs of the South.”
“You mean that our lives are at hazard, Kemmah?”
“That is what I mean, no less.”
Rima’s beautiful but sorrow-stricken face and eyes seemed to take
fire.
“I would that they might be lost,” she said. “Have you ever thought,
Friend, of the wonderful things that may lie behind the gates of
death, the glories and the harmonies and the eternities, or failing
these, the rich darkness of everlasting sleep? Life! I weary of life
and would put all to the hazard. Yet there is the babe born of my
body, the Royal Princess of Egypt, and for her sake----”
“Yes,” said the quiet Kemmah, “for her sake!”
There came a thunder of noise upon the door beyond the curtains.
“Open!” shouted voices.
“Open for yourselves. But know that death waits those who would
violate her Majesty of Egypt,” answered the deep guttural voice of Ru.
“We come to take the Queen and the Princess to those who will guard
them well,” cried one without.
“What better guard can they have than death?” asked Ru in answer.
There was a pause. Then came blows upon the door, heavy blows as of
axes, but still it held. Another pause and a tree trunk or some such
weighty thing was brought and driven against it, and presently with a
crash it fell, burst from its hinges. Rima seized the child and ran
into the shadows. Kemmah leapt to the curtains and stood there looking
between them, the spear she carried raised in her right hand. This was
what she saw.
The giant Nubian stood on the topmost stair in the shadow, for the
light of the lamps in the niches struck forward. In his right hand he
held a javelin, in his left he grasped the handle of his battle-axe
and a small shield made of the hide of a river horse. Grim and
terrible looked the Ethiopian giant outlined thus against the shadow.
A tall man with a sword in his hand scrambled over the fallen door,
the moonlight shining on his armour. The javelin flashed and the man
fell in a heap, his mail clattering upon the bronze hinges of the
door. He was dragged aside. Others rushed in, a number of them. Ru
shifted his battle-axe into his right hand, lifted it, leaned forward
and waited, advancing the shield to cover his head. Blows fell upon
the shield. Then the axe crashed down and a man sank in a heap. Ru
began to sing some wild Ethiopian war chant and as he sang he smote,
and as he smote men died beneath the blows of that terrible axe driven
with the weight of his mighty arm. Yet they pressed forward, for they
were desperate. Death might be in front of them, but if they failed
death was also behind at the hands of their confederates.
The stair was too wide for Ru to cover. One ran under his arm and
appeared between the curtains, where he stood staring. Kemmah saw his
face. It was that of a great Theban lord who had fought with Kheperra
in the battle and now had been suborned by the Shepherds. Rage seized
her. She sprang at him and with all her strength drove the spear she
held through his throat. He fell, gasping. She stamped upon his face,
crying “Die, dog! Die, traitor!” and die he did.
On the stairway the blows grew fewer. Presently Ru appeared, laughing
and red with blood.
“All are dead,” he cried, “save one who fled. But where is the knave
who slipped past me?”
“Here,” answered Kemmah, pointing to a still form in the shadows.
“Good. Very good!” said Ru. “Now I think better of women than ever I
did before. Yet, hurry, hurry! One dog has escaped and he goes to call
the pack. What is that? Wine? Give me to drink. Aye, give me wine and
a cloak to cover me. I am no seemly sight for queens to look on.”
“Are you hurt?” said Kemmah as she brought the goblet.
“Nay, not a scratch; still no seemly sight, though the blood be that
of traitors. Here’s to the gods of vengeance! Here’s to the hell that
holds them! This garment is scant for one of my size, but it will
serve. What’s that sack you drag to me?”
“No matter what it is. Carry it, Ru. You are no warrior now, you are a
porter. Carry it, O glorious Ru, and lose it not, for in it lie the
crowns of Egypt. Come, Queen, the road is clear, thanks to the axe of
Ru.”
Rima came, bearing her babe, and at the sight of the red stair and of
those who lay upon it or at its foot, shrank back and said in a
wavering voice, for she was almost bemused with doubts and terror:
“Is this the message of your gods, Kemmah?” and she pointed to the
stains upon the floor and walls. “And are these their messengers? Look
at them! I know their faces. They were the friends and captains of
dead Kheperra, my lord. Why, O Ru, do you slay the friends of him who
was Pharaoh, who came here doubtless to lead me and his child to
safety?”
“Aye, Queen,” said Kemmah, “to the safety of death or of the prison of
Apepi.”
“I’ll not believe it, woman, nor will I go with you,” said Rima,
stamping her foot. “Fly if you will, as well you may do with all this
blood upon your hands; here I stay with my child.”
Kemmah glanced at her, then as though in thought she looked down at
the ground while Ru whispered in her ear:
“Command me and I will carry her.”
The eyes of Kemmah fell upon that great lord whom she had slain with
her own hand, and she noted that from beneath his breastplate there
projected the end of a papyrus roll that had been thrust upwards when
he fell. She bent down and took it. Opening it swiftly she read, as
she who was learned could do well enough. It was addressed to the dead
man and his companions and sealed with the seals of the high priest
and others. This was the writing:
“In the names of all the gods and for the welfare of Egypt, we command
you to take Rima the Babylonian, wife of the good god Pharaoh who is
not, and her child, the Royal Princess Nefra, and to bring them to us,
living if may be, that they may be delivered to King Apepi in
fulfilment of our oath. Read and obey.”
“Can you read the Egyptian writing, Queen?” asked Kemmah. “If so,
herein is a matter that concerns you.”
“Read you. I have little skill,” answered Rima indifferently.
So she read, slowly, that the words might sink into the mind of the
Queen.
Rima heard and leaned against her, trembling.
“Why did I ever come to this land of traitors?” she moaned. “Oh! would
that I were dead.”
“As you will be if you stay here longer, Queen,” said Kemmah bitterly.
“Meanwhile it is the traitors who are dead, or some of them, and now
tell their tale to Kheperra, your lord and mine. Come. Come swiftly,
there are more villains left in Thebes.”
But Rima sank to the ground, swooning. As she fell Kemmah snatched the
child from her and looked at Ru.
“It is good,” said the giant. “Now she can talk no more and I will
carry her. But what of that sack? Must we leave it behind? Life is
more than crowns.”
“Nay, Ru, set it on my head, for thus peasants bear their burdens. I
can hold it with my left hand and clasp the child with my right.”
He did so and lifted the Queen in his great arms.
Thus they passed down the stair, stepping over the dead and out into
the night.
Across the open space they went, heading for the palm trees of the
garden. The babe wailed feebly but Kemmah stifled its cries beneath
her cloak. The weight of the treasures in the sack pressed her down
and the sharp edges of the jewelled crowns and sceptres cut into her
brow. Still she staggered on bravely. They reached the shadow of the
palms where she paused for a moment to look back and get her breath.
Behold! Men--numbers of them--were running toward the doors of the
private apartments.
“We did not leave too soon. Forward!” said Ru.
On they went, till at length before them in the glade they saw the
ruined shrine. Kemmah staggered to it and sank to her knees, for she
was spent.
“Now, unless help comes, there is an end,” said Ru. “Two half-dead
women I might carry, also the sack upon my head. But how about the
babe? Nay, that babe is the Princess of Egypt. Whoever dies, she must
be saved.”
“Aye,” said Kemmah faintly. “Leave me, it matters not, but save the
child. Take her and her mother and go to the quay. Perchance the boat
is there.”
“Perchance it is not,” grumbled Ru, staring about him.
Then help came. For as before from behind a palm appeared the sailor
Tau.
“You are somewhat early, Lady Kemmah,” he said, “but fortunately so am
I and so is the down Nile wind. At least here you are, all three of
you. But who is this?” and he stared at the giant Nubian.
“One who can be vouched for,” answered Ru. “If you doubt it, go look
at the stair of the royal apartments. One, too, who, if there be need,
can break your bones as a slave breaks sticks.”
“That I can well believe,” said Tau, “but of bone-breaking we can talk
afterwards. Now follow me, and swiftly.”
Then he threw the sack over his shoulder, and putting his arm about
Kemmah, supported her forward to the quay.
At the foot of the steps was a boat, and at a distance on the Nile
appeared a ship riding at anchor, her sail half hoisted. They entered
the boat, and seizing the oars, Tau rowed them to the ship. A rope was
cast which he caught and made fast to the prow of the boat, drawing on
it till they came alongside the ship. Hands were stretched out to help
them; soon they were all aboard.
“Up anchor!” cried Tau, “and hoist the sail.”
“We hear you, Lord,” answered a voice.
Three minutes later that ship was gliding down the Nile before the
strong south wind. Nor was it too soon, for as they passed silently
into the night they caught sight of men, some of whom bore lanterns,
searching the palm grove that they had left. They laid the women and
the child in the cabin. Then Tau said:
“Now, Breaker of Bones, you may have a tale to tell me, and perchance
a cup of wine and a bite of food will loose your tongue.”
Thus did Queen Rima, Nefra, Royal Princess of Egypt, the Lady Kemmah
and Ru the Ethiopian escape from Thebes and from the hands of
traitors.