HIS GRANDMOTHER’S MUMMY.
When Fedah seemed asleep, Kāra took the lamp and the bronze dagger from
their hiding place and swung back the stone in the rear wall, passing
through into the mountain cavern. Then, replacing the stone, he made his
way along the crevice, through the circular rock door into the arched
passage, and down the latter to the mummy chamber.
Here he removed the lid of Hatatcha’s mummy case and carefully dusted
the interior. The forty days were ended. The case might have its
occupant before morning.
Within the splendidly carven casket Kāra found an oblong green stone,
with polished flat surfaces. On one of these surfaces was the cartouche
of Ahtka-Rā, as follows:
[Illustration: hyroglyphic cartouche]
The Egyptian examined this relic carefully and placed it in his pocket.
It was the emerald that Hatatcha had promised the dwarf Sebbet in
payment for embalming her body. How Andalaft’s eyes would sparkle could
he but see this wonder!
But this thought reminded Kāra that he was loitering. He picked up his
lamp and went to the mummy of Ahtka-Rā, sliding back the slab of
malachite and descending through the opening to the treasure chamber
hidden below.
His first act was to inventory carefully the contents of the twelve
great vases that stood upon their alabaster pedestals. From these vases
he abstracted choice specimens of emeralds, sapphires, diamonds and
rubies, filling with them several small leathern sacks he had brought
concealed upon his person. Perhaps he had taken a fortune in this
careless manner; but so vast was the treasure that the contents of the
vases seemed scarcely disturbed.
In one of the numerous jars resting upon the granite floor, and which
had doubtless been added to the hoard at a much later period than that
of Ahtka-Rā, the Egyptian found a quantity of pearls of a size and
quality that rendered them almost peerless among the treasures of the
world. The jar contained a full quart, and Kāra took them all. At the
moment he did not comprehend their value, although Hatatcha had told him
that a single one of these pearls would be sufficient to ransom a
kingdom.
The gems he had already secured were enough to weigh heavily upon his
person; but Kāra was greedy. He examined the contents of many jars and
vases, choosing here and there a jewel that appealed to his fancy, and
adding to his selection a number of exquisite ornaments of wrought
gold; but at last he was forced to admit that he had taken enough from
the treasure chamber to answer his present purposes, and so he
reluctantly returned to the vault above.
As he closed the slab, his eye fell upon a strange jewel set in the
mummy case of Ahtka-Rā. It was surrounded by a protecting band of chased
gold, and sparkled under the rays of Kāra’s lamp in a manner that
distinguished it from any of the thousands of other gems that literally
covered the mummy case of the great Egyptian; for at first this odd
jewel had a dark steely lustre, which changed while Kāra’s eyes rested
upon it to a rich transparent orange, and then to an opal ground with
tongues of flame running through it. A moment later the color had faded
to a dull gray, which gradually took on a greenish tinge.
Kāra set down the lamp and pried the stone from its setting with the
point of his dagger, placing it afterward in a secure inner pocket of
his robe. As he did so, a golden bust of Isis that stood upon the mummy
case toppled and fell to the pavement, and from a hollow underneath the
bust rolled a small manuscript of papyrus. This Kāra took also, and
replaced the bust in its former position. His nerves must have been of
iron, for the uncanny incident had not even startled him.
Now he made his way back to the entrance and along the passage, finally
emerging with his treasure into the room that had been his former
dwelling-place. All was silent and dark. A mild bray from the blind
Nikko’s donkey was occasionally heard, and at times the far-away hoot
of a desert owl; but those within the village seemed steeped in slumber.
Kāra divided his burden by placing the greater part in his traveling
case, which he locked securely. Then he reclined upon the rushes and was
about to compose himself to sleep when the mat across the archway was
thrust aside and Sebbet entered.
“I am here, most royal one!” he announced.
Kāra sat up.
“And my grandmother?” he inquired.
“Here also, my prince. Ah, how natural is Hatatcha! You will be
delighted. It is a skilful and almost perfect piece of work, even though
I praise my own craft in saying so.”
With these words the dwarf led in the donkey. Upon its back was the form
of a swaddled mummy, which was bound to a flat plank to hold it rigidly
extended.
“I will show you the face,” continued Sebbet, in an eager tone, as he
lifted the mummy and placed it upon the ground.
“Do not trouble yourself,” said Kāra. “I will look upon my grandmother
at my leisure. The night is waning. Take your price and go your way.”
He handed the dwarf the emerald, holding the lamp, which he had
relighted, while Sebbet examined the stone with great care.
“Yes; it is the great emerald with the cartouche of Ahtka-Rā,” said the
embalmer, in a low, grave voice. “Osiris be praised that at last it is
my own! Hatatcha was a wise woman, and she kept her word.”
Kāra extinguished the light, but the moon was shining and sent some of
its rays through the arch to relieve the gloom.
“Good-night,” said he.
The dwarf stood still, thinking deeply. Finally he said, glancing at the
mummy:
“Where will my old friend repose?”
“It is her secret,” returned the prince, brusquely. “She trusted you not
to ask questions.”
“And yourself? Will you not wish to be mummified when your course is
run?”
Kāra laughed.
“Ah, my Sebbet, are you immortal?” he asked. “Do you expect to live to
embalm all the generations? You made a mummy of my great-grandmother and
of my grandmother. Your hairs are now white. Be content, and think upon
your own future.”
“That has already occupied my mind,” answered the dwarf, quietly.
“Farewell, then, prince of a royal line. Your ancestors thought first of
the tomb, then of the life preceding it. You are indulging in life, with
no thought of the tomb and the resurrection. It is the new order of
things, the trend of a civilization that forgets its dead and hides the
silent ones in the earth, that they may putrify and decay and become
mere dust. Very well; the age is yours, not mine. May Osiris guide thy
life, my prince!”
He turned to his donkey and led the ghost-like animal out into the
night. Kāra stood still, and in a moment he could hear their footsteps
no longer.
Then he secured the mat before the arch and for a second time swung back
the stone in the wall. This done, he felt in the dusk for the mummy of
Hatatcha, and lifting it in his arms, bore it through the opening and
replaced the stone. The body was heavy, and he panted as he paused to
light his lamp.
It was nearly an hour before Kāra, weary and perspiring, finally
deposited the mummy of his grandmother beside its elaborately
constructed case. He then unfastened the straps that bound it to the
board, and by exercising great care succeeded in placing the body in its
coffin without breaking or injuring it. Next he removed the outer strips
of linen that swathed the head until the outlines of Hatatcha’s face
showed clearly through its mask of tightly drawn bandages. Then he stood
aside, and holding up the lamp, gazed long and earnestly upon the calm
features.
“I promised,” he murmured, “here to repeat my oath: That I will show no
mercy to any one of Lord Roane’s family; that I will hunt them down,
every one, as a tiger hunts his prey, and crush and humble them in the
eyes of all men; that not one shall finally escape my vengeance, and
that all shall know in the end that it was Hatatcha who destroyed them.
So be it. By Āmen-Rā, the Sun-God who gave me being; by Ahtka-Rā, whose
blood now courses through my veins; by my hope of peace on earth and in
the life to come, I swear that Hatatcha’s will shall be obeyed!”
His voice was cold and even of tone; his face grave, but unmoved. He
placed his hand upon the breast of the mummy and repeated the mystic
sign he had used at her death-bed. This done, he raised the heavy carved
lid of the case and placed it in position.
* * * * *
Next morning Kāra gave Nephthys a kiss and returned across the river on
his way to Cairo. The dragoman carried the traveling bag and grumbled at
its weight. He was in a bad humor. It is all very well to make money,
and Kāra is a veritable mine; but had Tadros realized that Nephthys was
so fat and flabby, it would have required much more than a roll of
papyrus to induce him to part with her. True, he had managed, while her
master was asleep, to stealthily meet the girl and embrace her; but he
lacked the satisfaction that exists in proprietorship. One should be
careful about selling young women. They are like untried camels--liable
to develop unexpected and valuable qualities.
These reflections engrossed the dragoman all the way to Cairo; but there
were other things to demand his attention. Prince Kāra announced his
intention of taking the next steamer to Naples, and then traveling to
Paris and London. He asked Tadros to accompany him.
“But that is impossible!” was the reply. “I am a dragoman of Egypt, the
chief of my profession, a guide unequaled for knowledge, intelligence
and fidelity in all the land! But take me away from my own country, and
what am I? Take me from the poor tourists, and what will become of
them?”
“I need you in Europe, to do things in my service that I would not dare
propose to anyone else. I believe,” said the prince, coolly, “that you
are an unprincipled scoundrel. You lie easily and without hesitation;
you rob me cheerfully every day that you are in my employ; you have no
conscience and no morality, except that you are afraid of the law. I
have studied your character with care, and I have estimated it aright.”
Tadros first looked shame-faced, then humble, then indignant.
“By every god of Egypt,” he cried, earnestly, “I am an honest man!”
“That is proof of my assertion to the contrary,” replied the unmoved
Kāra. “Now, I need a scoundrel to assist me, and you are the man of my
choice. Continue to fleece me, if you like; I do not mind. But if you
serve me faithfully in some delicate matters that will soon require my
attention, I will make you the richest dragoman alive, so that Raschid
and the Haieks will all turn green with envy. On the other hand, should
you choose to betray me, you will not require riches, for the nether
world has no commerce.”
Tadros thought it over.
“We are Egyptians,” he said, at last. “Your enemies are equally mine.
Very well; command and I will obey. Are you not a prince of my people?
And why should I ever wish to betray you?”
“Because wise men sometimes become fools. In your case a lapse from
wisdom means death. Others may bribe you with an equal amount of money,
but I alone will exact the penalty for betrayal. I think you will remain
wise.”
“Ah, that is certain, my prince!” declared Tadros, with conviction.
And so Kāra sailed from Alexandria, taking with him the great diamonds
which the Van der Veens had already recut, the wonderful pearls which no
eye but his had yet beheld, and the priceless treasures of Ahtka-Rā.
The dragoman followed him, humble and obedient.