THE SMITING OF AMON
That evening I sat ill at ease in my work-chamber in Seti’s palace,
making pretence to write, I who felt that great evils threatened my lord
the Prince, and knew not what to do to turn them from him. The door
opened, and old Pambasa the chamberlain appeared and addressed me by my
new titles, saying that the Hebrew lady Merapi, who had been my nurse
in sickness, wished to speak with me. Presently she came and stood
before me.
“Scribe Ana,” she said, “I have but just seen my uncle Jabez,
who has come, or been sent, with a message to me,” and she hesitated.
“Why was he sent, Lady? To bring you news of Laban?”
“Not so. Laban has fled away and none know where he is, and Jabez has
only escaped much trouble as the uncle of a traitress by undertaking
this mission.”
“What is the mission?”
“To pray me, if I would save myself from death and the vengeance of
God, to work upon the heart of his Highness, which I know not how to
do——”
“Yet I think you might find means, Merapi.”
“——save through you, his friend and counsellor,” she
went on, turning away her face. “Jabez has learned that it is in the
mind of Pharaoh utterly to destroy the people of Israel.”
“How does he know that, Merapi?”
“I cannot say, but I think all the Hebrews know. I knew it myself
though none had told me. He has learned also that this cannot be done
under the law of Egypt unless the Prince who is heir to the throne and
of full age consents. Now I am come to pray you to pray the Prince not
to consent.”
“Why not pray to the Prince yourself, Merapi——” I
began, when from the shadows behind me I heard the voice of Seti, who
had entered by the private door bearing some writings in his hand,
saying:
“And what prayer has the lady Merapi to make to me? Nay, rise and
speak, Moon of Israel.”
“O Prince,” she pleaded, “my prayer is that you will save the
Hebrews from death by the sword, as you alone have the power to do.”
At this moment the doors opened and in swept the royal Userti.
“What does this woman here?” she asked.
“I think that she came to see Ana, wife, as I did, and as doubtless
you do. Also being here she prays me to save her people from the
sword.”
“And I pray you, husband, to give her people to the sword, which they
have earned, who would have murdered you.”
“And been paid, everyone of them, Userti, unless some still linger
beneath the rods,” he added with a shudder. “The rest are
innocent—why should they die?”
“Because your throne hangs upon it, Seti. I say that if you continue
to thwart the will of Pharaoh, as by the law of Egypt you can do, he
will disinherit you and set your cousin Amenmeses in your place, as by
the law of Egypt he can do.”
“I thought it, Userti. Yet why should I turn my back upon the right
over a matter of my private fortunes? The question is—is it the
right?”
She stared at him in amazement, she who never understood Seti and could
not dream that he would throw away the greatest throne in all the world
to save a subject people, merely because he thought that they should
not die. Still, warned by some instinct, she left the first question
unanswered, dealing only with the second.
“It is the right,” she said, “for many reasons whereof I need
give but one, for in it lie all the others. The gods of Egypt are the
true gods whom we must serve and obey, or perish here and hereafter.
The god of the Israelites is a false god and those who worship him are
heretics and by their heresy under sentence of death. Therefore it is
most right that those whom the true gods have condemned should die by
the swords of their servants.”
“That is well argued, Userti, and if it be so, mayhap my mind will
become as yours in this matter, so that I shall no longer stand between
Pharaoh and his desire. But is it so? There’s the problem. I will not
ask you why you say that the gods of the Egyptians are the true gods,
because I know what you would answer, or rather that you could give no
answer. But I will ask this lady whether her god is a false god, and if
she replies that he is not, I will ask her to prove this to me if she
can. If she is able to prove it, then I think that what I said to
Pharaoh to-day I shall repeat three days hence. If she is not able to
prove it, then I shall consider very earnestly of the matter. Answer
now, Moon of Israel, remembering that many thousands of lives may hang
on what you say.”
“O your Highness,” began Merapi. Then she paused, clasped her hands
and looked upwards. I think that she was praying, for her lips moved. As
she stood thus I saw, and I think Seti saw also, a very wonderful light
grow on her face and gather in her eyes, a kind of divine fire of
inspiration and resolve.
“How can I, a poor Hebrew maiden, prove to your Highness that my God
is the true God and that the gods of Egypt are false gods? I know not,
and yet, is there any one god among all the many whom you worship, whom
you are prepared to set up against him?”
“Of a surety, Israelite,” answered Userti. “There is Amon-Ra,
Father of the gods, of whom all other gods have their being, and from
whom they draw their strength. Yonder his statue sits in the sanctuary
of his ancient temple. Let your god stir him from his place! But what
will you bring forward against the majesty of Amon-Ra?”
“My God has no statues, Princess, and his place is in the hearts of
men, or so I have been taught by his prophets. I have nothing to bring
forward in this war save that which must be offered in all wars—my
life.”
“What do you mean?” asked Seti, astounded.
“I mean that I, unfriended and alone, will enter the presence of
Amon-Ra in his chosen sanctuary, and in the name of my God will
challenge him to kill me, if he can.”
We stared at her, and Userti exclaimed:
“If he can! Hearken now to this blasphemer, and do you, Seti, accept
her challenge as hereditary high-priest of the god Amon? Let her life
pay forfeit for her sacrilege.”
“And if the great god Amon cannot, or does not deign to kill you,
Lady, how will that prove that your god is greater than he?” asked
the Prince. “Perhaps he might smile and in his pity, let the insult
pass, as your god did by me.”
“Thus it shall be proved, your Highness. If naught happens to me, or
if I am protected from anything that does happen, then I will dare to
call upon my god to work a sign and a wonder, and to humble Amon-Ra
before your eyes.”
“And if your god should also smile and let the matter pass, Lady, as
he did by me the other day when his priests called upon him, what shall
we have learned as to his strength, or as to that of Amon-Ra?”
“O Prince, you will have learned nothing. Yet if I escape from the
wrath of Amon and my God is deaf to my prayer, then I am ready to be
delivered over into the hands of the priests of Amon that they may
avenge my sacrilege upon me.”
“There speaks a great heart,” said Seti; “yet I am not minded
that this lady should set her life upon such an issue. I do not believe
that either the high-god of Egypt or the god of the Israelites will
stir, but I am quite sure that the priests of Amon will avenge the
sacrilege, and that cruelly enough. The dice are loaded against you,
Lady. You shall not prove your faith with blood.”
“Why not?” asked Userti. “What is this girl to you, Seti,
that you should stand between her and the fruit of her wickedness, you
who at least in name are the high-priest of the god whom she blasphemes
and who wear his robes at temple feasts? She believes in her god, leave
it to her god to help her as she has dared to say he will.”
“You believe in Amon, Userti. Are you prepared to stake your life
against hers in this contest?”
“I am not so mad and vain, Seti, as to believe that the god of all the
world will descend from heaven to save me at my prayer, as this impious
girl pretends that she believes.”
“You refuse. Then, Ana, what say you, who are a loyal worshipper of
Amon?”
“I say, O Prince, that it would be presumptuous of me to take
precedence of his high-priest in such a matter.”
Seti smiled and answered:
“And the high-priest says that it would be presumptuous of him to push
so far the prerogative of a high office which he never sought.”
“Your Highness,” broke in Merapi in her honeyed, pleading voice,
“I pray you to be gracious to me, and to suffer me to make this trial,
which I have sought, I know not why. Words such as I have spoken cannot
be recalled. Already they are registered in the books of Eternity, and
soon or late, in this way or in that, must be fulfilled. My life is
staked, and I desire to learn at once if it be forfeit.”
Now even Userti looked on her with admiration, but answered only:
“Of a truth, Israelite, I trust that this courage will not forsake you
when you are handed over to the mercies of Ki, the Sacrificer of Amon,
and the priests, in the vaults of the temple you would profane.”
“I also trust that it will not, your Highness, if such should be my
fate. Your word, Prince of Egypt.”
Seti looked at her standing before him so calmly with bowed head, and
hands crossed upon her breast. Then he looked at Userti, who wore a
mocking smile upon her face. She read the meaning of that smile as I
did. It was that she did not believe that he would allow this beautiful
woman, who had saved his life, to risk her life for the sake of any or
all the powers of heaven or hell. For a little while he walked to and
fro about the chamber, then he stopped and said suddenly addressing,
not Merapi, but Userti:
“Have your will, remembering that if this brave woman fails and dies,
her blood is on your hands, and that if she triumphs and lives, I shall
hold her to be one of the noblest of her sex, and shall make study of
all this matter of religion. Moon of Israel, as titular high-priest of
Amon-Ra, I accept your challenge on behalf of the god, though whether
he will take note of it I do not know. The trial shall be made
to-morrow night in the sanctuary of the temple, at an hour that will be
communicated to you. I shall be present to make sure that you meet with
justice, as will some others. Register my commands, Scribe Ana, and let
the head-priest of Amon, Roi, and the sacrificer to Amon, Ki the
Magician, be summoned, that I may speak with them. Farewell, Lady.”
She went, but at the door turned and said:
“I thank you, Prince, on my own behalf, and on that of my people.
Whatever chances, I beseech you do not forget the prayer that I have
made to you to save them, being innocent, from the sword. Now I ask
that I may be left quite alone till I am summoned to the temple, who
must make such preparation as I can to meet my fate, whatever it may
be.”
Userti departed also without a word.
“Oh! friend, what have I done?” said Seti. “Are there any
gods? Tell me, are there any gods?”
“Perhaps we shall learn to-morrow night, Prince,” I answered.
“At least Merapi thinks that there is a god, and doubtless has been
commanded to put her faith to proof. This, as I believe, was the real
message that Jabez her uncle has brought to her.”
It was the hour before the dawn, just when the night is darkest. We
stood in the sanctuary of the ancient temple of Amon-Ra, that was lit
with many lamps. It was an awful place. On either side the great
columns towered to the massive roof. At the head of the sanctuary sat
the statue of Amon-Ra, thrice the size of a man. On his brow, rising
from the crown, were two tall feathers of stone, and in his hands he
held the Scourge of Rule and the symbols of Power and Everlastingness.
The lamplight flickered upon his stern and terrible face staring
towards the east. To his right was the statue of Mut, the Mother of all
things. On her head was the double crown of Egypt and the uræus crest,
and in her hand the looped cross, the sign of Life eternal. To his left
sat Khonsu, the hawk-headed god of the moon. On his head was the
crescent of the young moon carrying the disc of the full moon; in his
right hand he also held the looped cross, the sign of Life eternal, and
in his left the Staff of Strength. Such was this mighty triad, but of
these the greatest was Amon-Ra, to whom the shrine was dedicated.
Fearful they stood towering above us against the background of
blackness.
Gathered there were Seti the Prince, clothed in a priest’s white robe,
and wearing a linen headdress, but no ornaments, and Userti the
Princess, high-priestess of Hathor, Lady of the West, Goddess of Love
and Nature. She wore Hathor’s vulture headdress, and on it the disc
of the moon fashioned of silver. Also were present Roi the head-priest,
clad in his sacerdotal robes, an old and wizened man with a strong,
fierce face, Ki the Sacrificer and Magician, Bakenkhonsu the ancient,
myself, and a company of the priests of Amon-Ra, Mut, and Khonsu. From
behind the statues came the sound of solemn singing, though who sang we
could not see.
Presently from out of the darkness that lay beyond the lamps appeared a
woman, led by two priestesses and wrapped in a long cloak. They brought
her to an open place in front of the statue of Amon, took from her the
cloak and departed, glancing back at her with eyes of hate and fear.
There before us stood Merapi, clad in white, with a simple wimple about
her head made fast beneath her chin with that scarabæus clasp which
Seti had given to her in the city of Goshen, one spot of brightest blue
amid a cloud of white. She looked neither to right nor left of her.
Once only she glanced at the towering statue of the god that frowned
above, then with a little shiver, fixed her eyes upon the pattern of
the floor.
“What does she look like?” whispered Bakenkhonsu to me.
“A corpse made ready for the embalmers,” I answered.
He shook his great head.
“Then a bride made ready for her husband.”
Again he shook his head.
“Then a priestess about to read from the roll of Mysteries.”
“Now you have it, Ana, and to understand what she reads, which few
priestesses ever do. Also all three answers were right, for in this
woman I seem to see doom that is Death, life that is Love, and spirit
that is Power. She has a soul which both Heaven and Earth have
kissed.”
“Aye, but which of them will claim her in the end?”
“That we may learn before the dawn, Ana. Hush! the fight begins.”
The head-priest, Roi, advanced and, standing before the god, sprinkled
his feet with water and with perfume. Then he stretched out his hands,
whereon all present prostrated themselves, save Merapi only, who stood
alone in that great place like the survivor of a battle.
“Hail to thee, Amon-Ra,” he began, “Lord of Heaven,
Establisher of all things, Maker of the gods, who unrolled the skies and
built the foundations of the Earth. O god of gods, appears before thee
this woman Merapi, daughter of Nathan, a child of the Hebrew race that
owns thee not. This woman blasphemes thy might; this woman defies thee;
this woman sets up her god above thee. Is it not so, woman?”
“It is so,” answered Merapi in a low voice.
“Thus does she defy thee, thou Only One of many Forms, saying ‘if
the god Amon of the Egyptians be a greater god than my god, let him
snatch me out of the arms of my god and here in this the shrine of Amon
take the breath from out my lips and leave me a thing of clay.’ Are
these thy words, O woman?”
“They are my words,” she said in the same low voice, and oh! I
shivered as I heard.
The priest went on.
“O Lord of Time, Lord of Life, Lord of Spirits and the Divinities of
Heaven, Lord of Terror, come forth now in thy majesty and smite this
blasphemer to the dust.”
Roi withdrew and Seti stood forward.
“Know, O god Amon,” he said, addressing the statue as though he wee
speaking to a living man, “from the lips of me, thy high-priest, by
birth the Prince and Heir of Egypt, that great things hang upon this
matter here in the Land of Egypt, mayhap even who shall sit upon the
throne that thou givest to its kings. This woman of Israel dares thee
to thy face, saying that there is a greater god than thou art and that
thou canst not harm her through the buckler of his strength. She says,
moreover, that she will call upon her god to work a sign and a wonder
upon thee. Lastly, she says that if thou dost not harm her and if her
god works no sign upon thee, then she is ready to be handed over to thy
priests and die the death of a blasphemer. Thy honour is set against her
life, O great God of Egypt, and we, thy worshippers, watch to see the
balance turn.”
“Well and justly put,” muttered Bakenkhonsu to me. “Now if
Amon fails us, what will you think of Amon, Ana?”
“I shall learn the high-priest’s mind and think what the
high-priest thinks,” I answered darkly, though in my heart I was
terribly afraid for Merapi, and, to speak truth, for myself also,
because of the doubts which arose in me and would not be quenched.
Seti withdrew, taking his stand by Userti, and Ki stood forward and
said:
“O Amon, I thy Sacrificer, I thy Magician, to whom thou givest power,
I the priest and servant of Isis, Mother of Mysteries, Queen of the
company of the gods, call upon thee. She who stands before thee is but
a Hebrew woman. Yet, as thou knowest well, O Father, in this house she
is more than woman, inasmuch as she is the Voice and Sword of thine
enemy, Jahveh, god of the Israelites. She thinks, mayhap, that she has
come here of her own will, but thou knowest, Father Amon, as I know,
that she is sent by the great prophets of her people, those magicians
who guide her soul with spells to work thee evil and to set thee, Amon,
beneath the heel of Jahveh. The stake seems small, the life of this one
maid, no more; yet it is very great. This is the stake, O Father: Shall
Amon rule the world, or Jahveh. If thou fallest to-night, thou fallest
for ever; if thou dost triumph to-night, thou dost triumph for ever. In
yonder shape of stone hides thy spirit; in yonder shape of woman’s
flesh hides the spirit of thy foe. Smite her, O Amon, smite her to
small dust; let not the strength that is in her prevail against thy
strength, lest thy name should be defiled and sorrows and loss should
come upon the land which is thy throne; lest, too, the wizards of the
Israelites should overcome us thy servants. Thus prayeth Ki thy
magician, on whose soul it has pleased thee to pour strength and
wisdom.”
Then followed a great silence.
Watching the statue of the god, presently I thought that it moved, and
as I could see by the stir among them, so did the others. I thought
that its stone eyes rolled, I thought that it lifted the Scourge of
Power in its granite hand, though whether these things were done by
some spirit or by some priest, or by the magic of Ki, I do not know. At
the least, a great wind began to blow about the temple, stirring our
robes and causing the lamps to flicker. Only the robes of Merapi did
not stir. Yet she saw what I could not see, for suddenly her eyes grew
frightened.
“The god is awake,” whispered Bakenkhonsu. “Now good-bye to
your fair Israelite. See, the Prince trembles, Ki smiles, and the face
of Userti glows with triumph.”
As he spoke the blue scarabæus was snatched from Merapi’s breast as
though by a hand. It fell to the floor as did her wimple, so that now
she appeared with her rich hair flowing down her robe. Then the eyes of
the statue seemed to cease to roll, the wind ceased to blow, and again
there was silence.
Merapi stooped, lifted the wimple, replaced it on her head, found the
scarabæus clasp, and very quietly, as a woman who was tiring herself
might do, made it fast in its place again, a sight at which I heard
Userti gasp.
For a long while we waited. Watching the faces of the congregation, I
saw amazement and doubt on those of the priests, rage on that of Ki,
and on Seti’s the flicker of a little smile. Merapi’s eyes were
closed as though she were asleep. At length she opened them, and
turning her head towards the Prince said:
“O high-priest of Amon-Ra, has your god worked his will on me, or must
I wait longer before I call upon my God?”
“Do what you will or can, woman, and make an end, for almost it is the
moment of dawn when the temple worship opens.”
Then Merapi clasped her hands, and looking upwards, prayed aloud very
sweetly and simply, saying:
“O God of my fathers, trusting in Thee, I, a poor maid of Thy people
Israel, have set the life Thou gavest me in Thy Hand. If, as I believe,
Thou art the God of gods, I pray Thee show a sign and a wonder upon
this god of the Egyptians, and thereby declare Thine Honour and keep my
breath within my breast. If it pleases Thee not, then let me die, as
doubtless for my many sins I deserve to do. O God of my fathers, I have
made my prayer. Hear it or reject it according to Thy Will.”
So she ended, and listening to her, I felt the tears rising in my eyes,
because she was so much alone, and I feared that this god of hers would
never come to save her from the torments of the priests. Seti also
turned his head away, and stared down the sanctuary at the sky over the
open court where the lights of dawn were gathering.
Once more there was silence. Then again that wind blew, very strongly,
extinguishing the lamps, and, as it seemed to me, whirling away Merapi
from where she was, so that now she stood to one side of the statue.
The sanctuary was filled with gloom, till presently the first rays of
the rising sun struck upon the roof. They fell down, down, as minute
followed minute, till at length they rested like a sword of flame upon
the statue of Amon-Ra. Once more that statue seemed to move. I thought
that it lifted its stone arms to protect its head. Then in a moment
with a rending noise, its mighty mass burst asunder, and fell in small
dust about the throne, almost hiding it from sight.
“Behold my God has answered me, the most humble of His servants,”
said Merapi in the same sweet and gentle voice. “Behold the sign and
the wonder!”
“Witch!” screamed the head-priest Roi, and fled away, followed by
his fellows.
“Sorceress!” hissed Userti, and fled also, as did all the others,
save the Prince, Bakenkhonsu, I Ana, and Ki the Magician.
We stood amazed, and while we did so, Ki turned to Merapi and spoke. His
face was terrible with fear and fury, and his eyes shone like lamps.
Although he did but whisper, I who was nearest to them heard all that
was said, which the others could not do.
“Your magic is good, Israelite,” he muttered, “so good that
it has overcome mine here in the temple where I serve.”
“I have no magic,” she answered very low. “I obeyed a
command, no more.”
He laughed bitterly, and asked:
“Should two of a trade waste time on foolishness? Listen now. Teach me
your secrets, and I will teach you mine, and together we will drive
Egypt like a chariot.”
“I have no secrets, I have only faith,” said Merapi again.
“Woman,” he went on, “woman or devil, will you take me for
friend or foe? Here I have been shamed, since it was to me and not to
their gods that the priests trusted to destroy you. Yet I can still
forgive. Choose now, knowing that as my friendship will lead you to
rule, to life and splendour, so my hate will drive you to shame and
death.”
“You are beside yourself, and know not what you say. I tell you that I
have no magic to give or to withhold,” she answered, as one who did
not understand or was indifferent, and turned away from him.
Thereon he muttered some curse which I could not catch, bowed to the
heap of dust that had been the statue of the god, and vanished away
among the pillars of the sanctuary.
“Oho-ho!” laughed Bakenkhonsu. “Not in vain have I lived to
be so very old, for now it seems we have a new god in Egypt, and there
stands his prophetess.”
Merapi came to the prince.
“O high-priest of Amon,” she said, “does it please you to let
me go, for I am very weary?”