The house of Hornecht, like nearly every other dwelling in the city, was
the scene of the deepest mourning. The men had shaved their hair, and
the women had put dust on their foreheads. The archer’s wife had died
long before, but his daughter and her women received him with waving
veils and loud lamentations; for the astrologer, his brother-in-law,
had lost both his first-born son and his grandson, and the plague had
snatched its victims from the homes of many a friend.
But the senseless youth soon demanded all the care the women could
bestow, and after bathing him and binding a healing ointment on the
dangerous wound in his head, strong wine and food were placed before
him, after which, refreshed and strengthened, he obeyed the summons of
the daughter of his host.
The dust-covered, worn-out fellow was transformed into a handsome youth.
His perfumed hair fell in long curling locks from beneath the fresh
white bandage, and gold-bordered Egyptian robes from the wardrobe
of Kasana’s dead husband covered his pliant bronzed limbs. He seemed
pleased with the finery of his garments, which exhaled a subtle odor of
spikenard new to his senses; for the eyes in his handsome face sparkled
brilliantly.
It was many a day since the captain’s daughter, herself a woman of
unusual beauty and charm, had seen a handsomer youth. Within the year
she had married a man she did not love Kasana had returned a widow
to her father’s house, which lacked a mistress, and the great wealth
bequeathed to her, at her husband’s death, made it possible for her to
bring into the soldier’s unpretending home the luxury and ease which to
her had now become a second nature.
Her father, a stern man prone to sudden fits of passion, now yielded
absolutely to her will. Formerly he had pitilessly enforced his own,
compelling the girl of fifteen to wed a man many years her senior. This
had been done because he perceived that Kasana had given her young heart
to Hosea, the soldier, and he deemed it beneath his dignity to receive
the Hebrew, who at that time held no prominent position in the army,
as his son-in-law. An Egyptian girl had no choice save to accept the
husband chosen by her father and Kasana submitted, though she shed so
many bitter tears that the archer rejoiced when, in obedience to his
will, she had wedded an unloved husband.
But even as a widow Kasana’s heart clung to the Hebrew. When the army
was in the field her anxiety was ceaseless; day and night were spent in
restlessness and watching. When news came from the troops she asked only
about Hosea, and her father with deep annoyance attributed to her love
for the Hebrew her rejection of suitor after suitor. As a widow she had
a right to the bestowal of her own hand, and the tender, gentle-natured
woman astonished Hornecht by the resolute decision displayed, not alone
to him and lovers of her own rank, but to Prince Siptah, whose cause the
captain had espoused as his own.
To-day Kasana expressed her delight at the Hebrew’s return with such
entire frankness and absence of reserve that the quick-tempered man
rushed out of the house lest he might be tempted into some thoughtless
act or word. His young guest was left to the care of his daughter and
her nurse.
How deeply the lad’s sensitive nature was impressed by the airy rooms,
the open verandas supported by many pillars, the brilliant hues of the
painting, the artistic household utensils, the soft cushions, and the
sweet perfume everywhere! All these things were novel and strange to
the son of a herdsman who had always lived within the grey walls of
a spacious, but absolutely plain abode, and spent months together in
canvas tents among shepherds and flocks, nay was more accustomed to be
in the open air than under any shelter! He felt as though some wizard
had borne him into a higher and more beautiful world, where he was
entirely at home in his magnificent garb, with his perfumed curls and
limbs fresh from the bath. True, the whole earth was fair, even out in
the pastures among the flocks or round the fire in front of the tent in
the cool of the evening, when the shepherds sang, the hunters told tales
of daring exploits, and the stars sparkled brightly overhead.
But all these pleasures were preceded by weary, hateful labor; here it
was a delight merely to see and to breathe and, when the curtains parted
and the young widow, giving him a friendly greeting, made him sit down
opposite to her, sometimes questioning him and sometimes listening
with earnest sympathy to his replies, he almost imagined his senses had
failed him as they had done under the ruins of the fallen house, and
he was enjoying the sweetest of dreams. The feeling that threatened to
stifle him and frequently interrupted the flow of words was the rapture
bestowed upon him by great Aschera, the companion of Baal, of whom the
Phoenician traders who supplied the shepherds with many good things had
told him such marvels, and whom the stern Miriam forbade him ever to
name at home.
His family had instilled into his young heart hatred of the Egyptians as
the oppressors of his race, but could they be so wicked, could he detest
a people among whom were creatures like this lovely, gentle woman, who
gazed into his eyes so softly, so tenderly, whose voice fell on his ear
like harmonious music, and whose glance made his blood course so swiftly
that he could scarce endure it and pressed his hand upon his heart to
quiet its wild pulsation.
Kasana sat opposite to him on a seat covered with a panther-skin,
drawing the fine wool from the distaff. He had pleased her and she had
received him kindly because he was related to the man whom she had loved
from childhood. She imagined that she could trace a resemblance between
him and Hosea, though the youth lacked the grave earnestness of the
man to whom she had yielded her young heart, she knew not why nor when,
though he had never sought her love.
A lotus blossom rested among her dark waving curls, and its stem fell in
a graceful curve on her bent neck, round which clustered a mass of soft
locks. When she lifted her eyes to his, he felt as though two springs
had opened to pour floods of bliss into his young breast, and he had
already clasped in greeting the dainty hand which held the yarn.
She now questioned him about Hosea and the woman who had sent the
message, whether she was young and fair and whether any tie of love
bound her to his uncle.
Ephraim laughed merrily. She who had sent him was so grave and earnest
that the bare thought of her being capable of any tender emotion wakened
his mirth. As to her beauty, he had never asked himself the question.
The young widow interpreted the laugh as the reply she most desired and,
much relieved, laid aside the spindle and invited Ephraim to go into the
garden.
How fragrant and full of bloom it was, how well-kept were the beds, the
paths, the arbors, and the pond.
His unpretending home adjoined a dreary yard, wholly unadorned and
filled with pens for sheep and cattle. Yet he knew that at some future
day he would be owner of great possessions, for he was the sole child
and heir of a wealthy father and his mother was the daughter of the rich
Nun. The men servants had told him this more than once, and it angered
him to see that his own home was scarcely better than Hornecht’s
slave-quarters, to which Kasana had called his attention.
During their stroll through the garden Ephraim was asked to help her
cull the flowers and, when the basket he carried was filled, she invited
him to sit with her in a bower and aid her to twine the wreaths. These
were intended for the dear departed. Her uncle and a beloved cousin--who
bore some resemblance to Ephraim--had been snatched away the night
before by the plague which his people had brought upon Tanis.
From the street which adjoined the garden-wall they heard the wails of
women lamenting the dead or bearing a corpse to the tomb. Once, when
the cries of woe rose more loudly and clearly than ever, Kasana gently
reproached him for all that the people of Tanis had suffered through the
Hebrews, and asked if he could deny that the Egyptians had good reason
to hate a race which had brought such anguish upon them.
It was hard for Ephraim to find a fitting answer; he had been told that
the God of his race had punished the Egyptians to rescue his own people
from shame and bondage, and he could neither condemn nor scorn the men
of his own blood. So he kept silence that he might neither speak falsely
nor blaspheme; but Kasana allowed him no peace, and he at last replied
that aught which caused her sorrow was grief to him, but his people had
no power over life and health, and when a Hebrew was ill, he often sent
for an Egyptian physician. What had occurred was doubtless the will of
the great God of his fathers, whose power far surpassed the might of any
other deity. He himself was a Hebrew, yet she would surely believe his
assurance that he was guiltless of the plague and would gladly recall
her uncle and cousin to life, had he the power to do so. For her sake he
would undertake the most difficult enterprise.
She smiled kindly and replied:
“My poor boy! If I see any guilt in you, it is only that you are one of
a race which knows no ruth, no patience. Our beloved, hapless dead! They
must even lose the lamentations of their kindred; for the house where
they rest is plague-stricken and no one is permitted to enter.”
She silently wiped her eyes and went on arranging her garlands, but tear
after tear coursed down her cheeks.
Ephraim knew not what to say, and mutely handed her the leaves and
blossoms. Whenever his hand touched hers a thrill ran through his veins.
His head and the wound began to ache, and he sometimes felt a slight
chill. He knew that the fever was increasing, as it had done once before
when he nearly lost his life in the red disease; but he was ashamed to
own it and battled bravely against his pain.
When the sun was nearing the horizon Hornecht entered the garden. He
had already seen Hosea, and though heartily glad to greet his old friend
once more, it had vexed him that the soldier’s first enquiry was for
his daughter. He did not withhold this from the young widow, but his
flashing eyes betrayed the displeasure with which he delivered the
Hebrew’s message. Then, turning to Ephraim, he told him that Hosea
and his men would encamp outside of the city, pitching their tents, on
account of the pestilence, between Tanis and the sea. They would soon
march by. His uncle sent Ephraim word that he must seek him in his tent.
When he noticed that the youth was aiding his daughter to weave the
garlands, he smiled, and said:
“Only this morning this young fellow declared his intention of remaining
free and a ruler all his life. Now he has taken service with you,
Kasana. You need not blush, young friend. If either your mistress
or your uncle can persuade you to join us and embrace the noblest
trade--that of the soldier--so much the better for you. Look at me!
I’ve wielded the bow more than forty years and still rejoice in my
profession. I must obey, it is true, but it is also my privilege to
command, and the thousands who obey me are not sheep and cattle, but
brave men. Consider the matter again. He would make a splendid leader of
the archers. What say you, Kasana?”
“Certainly,” replied the young widow. And she was about to say more, but
the regular tramp of approaching troops was heard on the other side
of the garden-wall. A slight flush crimsoned Kasana’s cheeks, her eyes
sparkled with a light that startled Ephraim and, regardless of her
father or her guest, she darted past the pond, across paths and
flower-beds, to a grassy bank beside the wall, whence she gazed eagerly
toward the road and the armed host which soon marched by.
Hosea, in full armor, headed his men. As he passed Hornecht’s garden
he turned his grave head, and seeing Kasana lowered his battle-axe in
friendly salutation.
Ephraim had followed the captain of the archers, who pointed out the
youth’s uncle, saying: “Shining armor would become you also, and when
drums are beating, pipes squeaking shrilly, and banners waving, a man
marches as lightly as if he had wings. To-day the martial music is
hushed by the terrible woe brought upon us by that Hebrew villain. True,
Hosea is one of his race yet, though I cannot forget that fact, I must
admit that he is a genuine soldier, a model for the rising generation.
Tell him what I think of him on this score. Now bid farewell to Kasana
quickly and follow the men; the little side-door in the wall is open.”
He turned towards the house as he spoke, and Ephraim held out his hand
to bid the young widow farewell.
She clasped it, but hurriedly withdrew her own, exclaiming anxiously:
“How burning hot your hand is! You have a fever!”
“No, no,” faltered the youth, but even while speaking he fell upon his
knees and the veil of unconsciousness descended upon the sufferer’s
soul, which had been the prey of so many conflicting emotions.
Kasana was alarmed, but speedily regained her composure and began to
cool his brow and head by bathing them with water from the neighboring
pond. Yes, in his boyhood the man she loved must have resembled this
youth. Her heart throbbed more quickly and, while supporting his head in
her hands, she gently kissed him.
She supposed him to be unconscious, but the refreshing water had already
dispelled the brief swoon, and he felt the caress with a thrill of
rapture. But he kept his eyes closed, and would gladly have lain for a
life-time with his head pillowed on her breast in the hope that her lips
might once more meet his. But instead of kissing him a second time she
called loudly for aid. He raised himself, gave one wild, ardent look
into her face and, ere she could stay him, rushed like a strong man
to the garden gate, flung it open, and followed the troops. He soon
overtook the rear ranks, passed on in advance of the others, and at last
reached their leader’s side and, calling his uncle by name, gave his
own. Hosea, in his joy and astonishment, held out his arms, but ere
Ephraim could fall upon his breast, he again lost consciousness, and
stalwart soldiers bore the senseless lad into the tent the quartermaster
had already pitched on a dune by the sea.