THE “DOUBLE” OF HANIT
A feeling, closely akin to panic, had settled upon the Egyptian Court.
Its members, of whom by far the greater number were, outwardly at least,
firm adherents of Aton, had now received a second violent shock to their
already perplexed minds.
Following her safe return from one of her periodic visits to Pharaoh’s
new capital to the north, Thi the Queen-Mother, had suddenly and most
mysteriously vanished.
The Women’s Quarter of the palace was in an uproar. Consternation and,
withal a nameless dread, was stamped upon the faces of courtier and
servant alike. The remembrance of Menna’s unaccountable, and still
unsolved disappearance, was still fresh in their minds.
Upon the evening in which the Queen-Mother had so suddenly vanished, the
Princess Bekit-aton had left her side for a few moments in order to warm,
with her own hands, a cup of old Thinite wine. When the little Princess
returned it was to find the Queen-Mother gone.
She chanced to look out of the window and was astonished to see Queen
Thi, in company with another lady of the court, the Lady Renenet she
thought, about to round the bend of the road which led to the Temple of
Sekhmet. It was the first time in her experience that the Queen-Mother
had gone out so little attended.
Bekit-aton returned to the harem. She did not suspect that anything
was amiss until darkness descended upon the palace. Then and not
until then, according to the rigid court etiquette, she again entered
the Queen-Mother’s room—upon this occasion accompanied by the other
ladies-in-waiting—in order to assist the Queen-Mother to the Banquet
Hall. Among the ladies she was surprised to see the Lady Renenet. Upon
inquiry she found that Renenet had not left the Women’s Quarters that
day. And it was the same with respect to the other ladies. Not one had
left the Palace walls during the entire day.
Yet, one lady asserted that she had seen Queen Thi enter the palace
within the hour. Somewhat relieved by this, the Princess Bekit-aton
sought the Queen-Mother in each and every room of the Women’s Quarter.
Yet this search, similarly, proved unsuccessful.
Once again she entered the Queen’s robing-room. She found no sign of
disorder. Queen Thi had apparently left of her own free will. The
mystified little Princess called to her assistance Queen Noferit and
other ladies of the harem.
Again the rooms were searched. Led by the Princess the searchers
descended into the gardens. They entered the quarters of the cooks and
butlers. They explored the dark shadows of the various columned courts
and the murkier gloom of the side aisles, together with their innumerable
storerooms.
Finally, when panic seized upon them, they called to their assistance
the Steward of the Palace. At the news Soken’s changed expression did
little to allay their fears. With a gesture he swept them all back in the
direction of the harem.
In turn the Palace Steward and the other eunuchs once again carefully
searched palace, court, garden and lakeside. Darkness descended upon a
house filled with grief and consternation on the part of the women, and
deadly fear on the part of Soken and the other eunuchs of the palace.
The fate of Prince Menna, Pharaoh’s Overseer, was still upon the lips of
palace-servant, priest and peasant alike. Menna’s enemies were many. It
might well be that someone whom Menna had misused or wronged had at last
struck back and that successfully.
But the sudden disappearance of the Queen-Mother from the midst of
her ladies, from a mighty building guarded within and without, caused
a thrill of horror and a nameless fear to run through palace and
countryside alike. It was inexplicable.
The Temple of Sekhmet, the lake, the palace and the palace-gardens, were
searched and researched again and again. Not a spot was overlooked. When
at last it became necessary to send the evil tidings to the new capital,
the City of the Sun, Pharaoh himself came hurriedly back to Thebes.
As, day after day, the searching parties returned empty-handed, Pharaoh
lost patience. Hundreds were slain. Soken and many of the palace eunuchs
met their death at the strangler’s hands. Men soon went to the task of
searching for the lost Queen as criminals already condemned to death.
For a full week the search was renewed. Fresh men were called up for the
task. Finally, the soldiers of the Divisions of Khonsu, Ptah and Sutekh
were pressed into service. All in vain.
One remarkable circumstance was discovered, following the disappearance
of the Queen-Mother, and that by the Princess Bekit-aton. The portrait
of the Ex-Queen Hanit, which had been painted on a column in the Audience
Hall of the late Pharaoh, had been carefully and completely obliterated.
This had been done just prior to or immediately following the
Queen-Mother’s disappearance. Nothing remained, where once the portrait
stood, but six words written in red in roughly drawn hieratic: “By the
Power of the Book of Thoth.”
No one could explain this desecration of the former Queen’s portrait.
Mention of the magic Book of Thoth struck terror into every heart, not
excepting that of Pharaoh himself.
Thenceforth Pharaoh’s fanatical zeal in the interest of Aton, his Syrian
sun-cult, slowly waned and finally ceased. The innumerable gifts to
the many new Aton shrines throughout Egypt—one had been set up against
the very walls of the Temple of Amen in the Apt—the gorgeous religious
processions, the ceaseless theological studies and debates, all were
suddenly abandoned.
With the change Pharaoh himself seemed to fade. Little nourishment passed
his lips. Within the dim shadows of his private chapel, hour after hour
the hollow-eyed monarch stood in prayer before the gold and gem-encrusted
statue of Aton, the sun-god. At times the statue appeared to his
distracted mind to mock him with a smile half-pitying, half-contemptuous!
Verily, the curse of Huy, High Priest of Amen was upon him! Noferith, his
wife, had borne him no heir, no son to follow him upon the gold Horus
Throne of Egypt! The scepter must go to others, to that hollow cousin of
his, whom Thi had been wont to call _the mirage_.
As for old Ay, another distant relative and possible claimant to the
Throne, Pharaoh suspected that Ay was even now in secret correspondence
with the exiled priests of Amen, whose influence was again making itself
felt, not alone in Thebes, but as far north as the new capital, the City
of the Sun itself.
To whom then could he turn? Among the courtiers about him there was not
one in whom he could trust. Not one could help him. Alas, too late, he
bethought him of the exiled Ramses!
In the midst of a rising on the part of his famine-stricken people in the
south, an insurrection started by the exiled priests of Amen, Pharaoh
took to his ivory couch.
Thereafter few saw him. He held no more audiences. Dedu, Keeper of the
Robes, alone attended him. Even Pentu, his physician, was dismissed
and shortly after strangled, together with Mei, Chief of the Military
Forces in the new capital. Mei and Pentu had both been found in secret
correspondence with the priests of Amen in distant Nubia.
Dedu, Keeper of the Robes, entered his royal master’s apartment late one
morning to find him sitting bolt upright, his prominent eyes fixed in a
horrified stare upon the curtain which screened the door. A single word
fell from Pharaoh’s trembling lips as he sank back fainting in Dedu’s
outstretched arms. That single word the wondering Dedu swore was ...
_Hanit!_
Thereafter, Pharaoh in terror bade his guards drive all visitors,
petitioners and beggars from the palace gates. Pharaoh shut himself up
within its brightly painted courts and allowed things without to take
their course.
The silver-embossed doors remained fast closed. No watchman paced the
battlemented walls and pylons. No plumed Syrian horses pawed the flagging
before the outer gates. The gay bannerettes no longer rose upon the
gold-tipped poles fronting the main entrance to the palace forecourt.
Hushed were the voices of the guards and other palace servants. Even
the birds which flitted back and forth among the trees seemed to have
forgotten their cheerful songs.
Finally, one memorable evening, when the dying Pharaoh lay propped up
high upon his couch, he beckoned to Prince Antef, Lord of Thebes, who
stood in the center of the awe-struck group before him.
Dropping the hairless lids of a pair of vulture-like eyes, eyes filled at
the moment with a joy which the Prince tried in vain to conceal, Antef
fell upon his knees beside the dying Pharaoh’s couch. He already felt the
gold diadem of kings about his wig, the royal asps about his forehead.
Silence descended upon the little room. Silence seemed to fall upon
the entire building, both within and without. The wails of the women
ceased, the chanting of the priests and the sobs and cries of the palace
servants, all abruptly stopped.
So long continued was the sudden hush that the expectant Antef slowly
raised his head.
As his questioning eyes met those of his royal master, Antef there beheld
such a look of terror, a look reflected he saw upon the faces of the
nobles behind the dying monarch, that the astounded Theban himself felt
somewhat of the chill that seemed to have changed his master and his
friends to stone.
He caught the whispered sound of a once familiar name. It seemed to be on
everyone’s lips: Hanit! Hanit! Hanit!
Antef turned himself about. At once that same nameless terror held him
also in its grip.
In the doorway stood Queen Hanit, Hanit upon whose mummified form he
himself had placed a wreath of flowers! Antef stumbled to his feet and
there remained, his eyes fixed upon this apparition of the Ex-Queen, as
if he likewise had been turned to stone.
A richly plaited robe covered Queen Hanit’s form. About her head was set
the vulture diadem, that circlet of gold which queens of the royal blood
alone may wear. Her throat was hidden by a necklace of bright blue beads.
Upon one finger she wore a blue glazed ring, a ring such as is worn by
the dead alone! Before her she held a Book which seemed to glow, as if by
some preternatural light.
By now Antef and the horrified nobles had backed to the furthest corner
of the room, whence they continued to gaze at this apparition of the
former Queen, believing it to be in very fact the visible “double” of
Thi’s murdered rival.
Hanit’s black eyes glittered like those of some poisonous snake. She
fixed them threateningly upon the shrunken features of the terrified
monarch:
“Dost know me, son of Thi?”
The trembling monarch tried in vain to speak.
“Dost know me, Syrian?”
Again Pharaoh essayed to find his nerveless tongue. At last, in a hoarse
and breathless whisper, he managed to articulate the one word ... Hanit!
Again the soft and unearthly voice of Hanit thrilled their ears:
“Son of Thi, thou that art about to wander forth upon the steep and stony
hills of Duat, hearken unto the utterance of Amen, king of gods! By the
power of this Magic Book, thy Hidden Names are revealed to me! Known to
me are the Mystic Names of the Genii that protect thee! By the Power of
the Book, thy _ka_ hath been destroyed! Thy soul is destroyed!
“Awake, awake! Pass not forth until I have shown thee a marvel, saith
Amen, king of gods! Stand forth, Son of Amen! Receive the Scepter of
Amen which is thine!”
With this the apparition slowly moved back, and there before them,
arrayed in the full regalia of kings, the curved sword of Amen clasped in
his hand, stood Ramses, the conqueror of Rimur and the Hittites.
The seeming “double” of the dead Queen raised the Luminous Book high
above her head:
“Hearken, Egyptians! Hearken to the words of Amen, king of gods! With
this sword divine hath Ramses, my son, hurled back the Hittites from your
borders! With this sword divine hath he won a glorious victory! Rimur
grovels in the dust before him; Belur awaits his bitter doom! Of a truth
is this my son, born of my will, essence of my essence, saith Amen, king
of gods! Salute your king! Salute him, Electrum of Kings, Essence of a
God!”
She ceased, and vanished as abruptly as she had appeared. In her place
stood a figure arrayed in the regalia of the great god Amen. In his hand
he held the Double Crown of Egypt.
As if overcome at this manifestation of the power of the great God Amen,
Mei-amen, new leader of the Prophets of Amen, slowly and reverently
advanced and, falling at Ramses’ knees, kissed the hem of his garment. As
he rose, few noted the look that passed between them.
Thereafter, the dead Pharaoh was forgotten. Indeed, as the cries of
the palace-women broke out once more, the assembled nobles burst into
a shout, new to those resplendent walls, a shout which brought the
terrified servants to the door:
“Hail to thee, Ramses, chosen of Amen! Life, Satisfaction and Health to
Pharaoh, our lord, forever and ever!”
* * * * *
“Let me see, how do the Egyptians express it? O, I remember! Now of the
coming to the throne of Ramses, of his marriage to the Princess Sesen, of
the cutting out of the hated name of Aton from temple, tomb and dwelling,
is it not written in letters of red and black upon a leather scroll and
stored within the Temple of Amen in the Apt unto this day!
“You know this to be true, Clem! But do you know that Seneb, the mason,
was sent to cut out all mention of Menna upon the walls of his tomb!
Menna, son of Menna, never reached the Blessed fields of Aaru, of that
you may be sure.
“Yes, I know what your next question will be! The Luminous Book!
“Listen! What I am going to tell you is interesting and true. I can vouch
for the story, as I had it from the lips of Enana himself.
“Enana placed the Magic Book in a cauldron of boiling water drawn from
the Sacred Lake by a virgin of the Temple of the Mother-goddess. Thus the
mystic powers with which the Book had been imbued became incorporated in
the holy water.
“A draught of this enchanted water Queen Hanit drank and, drinking,
died. The remainder, according to her wish, was sprinkled over her body,
immediately following the placing of her mummy in the tomb.
“Thereafter Enana ‘said that which he said,’ Enana ‘intoned that which he
intoned,’ and the immutable curse of the Conjurers of Amen was repeated
before the door of her tomb:
“‘Behold! As Ra, the Sun-god, liveth! Whosoever seeketh to desecrate this
tomb dieth! Whosoever toucheth this body to remove it dieth! On earth
death is his portion! In the underworld annihilation is his destiny! In
the Hidden Name of Amen, king of gods, this curse remaineth, yea, so long
as Ra, the Sun-god, endureth!’
“You see, Clem! It is not to be wondered at that those men died so
suddenly, or that the curator, who likewise handled mummy No. 49, himself
succumbed. It proves, without the shadow of a doubt, that the curse of
the Conjurers of Amen _did_ endure. Sesen can tell you....”
“Steven, please lie down and stop talking. Don’t worry about things. Try
to compose yourself.”
As I sank dutifully back upon the pillows, I was aware of a soft and
deliciously cool hand which gently pressed my throbbing head. A smiling
face bent over me.
My bewildered eyes wandered from a trim little white cap to a spotless
white dress and shoes, White canvas shoes!
“Where are her pretty gilded sandals?” thought I.
I tried to speak to her. I even made an effort to catch the soothing hand
at my forehead.
At this the white figure vanished, and in its place, stood Braintree, the
Seaforth’s doctor.
“Great Scott, I have it. I am in the hospital! That was Susan....”
“That’s just where you are, Steven. And I must ask you not to excite
yourself about it. Here you are and here you have been for some time.
Tribe, Dunn and I have slaved over you and won out, at last.
“But who, may I ask, is Menna! No friend of yours, I’d swear! Susan is
equally interested in some lady friend of your acquaintance, Sesen I
think her name was! Well, never mind that now. Turn over and rest.”
Then it was a dream; the vision of a fevered brain! Enana, Hanit, Sesen,
Menna, and Renny—could I have been Renny—all were dreams! Hanit! Why such
a person never existed. And Ramses! As yet he wasn’t born!
I tried to smile at the busy little figure in white. I recognized her
now. It was Susan Braintree, my Susan!
I caught myself repeatedly murmuring: “Susan the Lily, Sesen the Lotus,
one and the same name, one and the same person perhaps. Ah, my Beautiful
Princess! I can smell the sweet unguents which Bhanar has sprinkled upon
your dainty Wig, the myrrh upon your supple hands...!”
Susan presses a little phial to my nostrils. A few short breaths and—I
sleep.