In one of the summer houses--or arbors--of the King's garden, Miriam
sat that day as the sun went down, her eyes fixed upon the forms of
the King, and the little Prince, his son, who were busily at play with
a mimic squadron in one of the smaller tanks or pools. So intent was
her watching that she was startled to find the King's brother standing
beside her and mindful of her duty to royalty she arose.
"Nay, nay, my lady," said the prince, "do not rise to do me reverence!
It is more meet that I should bend to thee." Miriam paid little heed
to these words. She had been reared amid the meaningless flattery of
the court, but she nevertheless resumed her seat, and was not
surprised to have the Prince take the vacant place beside her. "It is
to be regretted, my lady," he said, "that you did not linger in the
council chamber to-day and hear the great prophet speak Egypt's doom!
Your Moses (through the lips of Aaron his brother) bids us prepare for
many calamities, and at Nature's door he lays them all! wind, rain,
hail, a devouring insect horde, and then, if we hold Israel still, the
grim spectre called Death will make a gleaning of Mizram's first
born."
"All this have I heard from the Queen, my lord," replied Miriam
quietly. "And it will surely befall, as he has said, and, when it is
accomplished, and Israel goes out, you will be the King." The Prince
drew nearer to Miriam. "And where wilt thou be in that day?" he said
slowly, and his eyes looked into hers with something that had a
mingled motive (for Miriam was too pure of soul to inspire only carnal
love, and for Miriam the Prince had felt an absorbing passion lo,
these many years). "Nay," she answered. "It matters not to me, save
that I wish thee well, and pray that thy reign may be one of peace,
and prosperity, to Egypt." "And where wilt thou be, when Tothmes is
dead and I am King?" he said. "Sire," she made answer, "I am an
Israelite. When my people go hence I shall not be left in Egypt." "But
the child," he said, and as he uttered the word it seemed as though he
sought through the word to read her inmost soul. "The child, can you
bear to part from him?" She laid her hand upon her heart and paled as
though his words had the hurt of a blow; but she lifted her sweet,
untroubled eyes to his face and said: "I, too, have thought of this
parting from the child, but did Aaron not tell you, that when you sit
upon the throne, the little Prince shall be no more. Nay," she said,
as though speaking to herself, "I will not leave him in Egypt, I will
not leave him, until God takes him."
A madness seemed to sweep over the Prince. He drew closer to Miriam's
side and whispered: "You shall not go hence, life of my life, soul of
my soul. I have prayed to all the gods that the famine, and the fever,
the pestilence, and the thirst may come! That yonder gibbering idiot,
yonder fatherless child, may give up the ghost; that Hatsu may fall
dead, and you alone be spared. Then may Israel go, if you, beloved,
remain, my queen, sharing my throne. You who since my earliest boyhood
have reigned supreme in my soul. I will be so tender to you, so much
your slave, that ere I die you will love me, and in your love my
highest desire will be fulfilled. Listen, what I tell you is true.
Yonder Prince is but a Prince in name! He has no claim of heirship to
the throne! He is a nameless waif, his parentage unknown; but for your
sake, for your love, I would set him before the people, and call him
King. And so, sweet one, go not out with Israel, but abide in Mizram,
for the child's sake." As he still speaks she puts her hand upon her
heart, then she lays her head back against the wall of the summer
house, and to his horror, life seems departing from her! She grows
ghastly to look upon. Terror stricken, conscience smitten (for he
loves her better than himself) he turns and flees.
Scarcely have his feet gained a safe retreat, when Alric enters the
arbor. "It is well," he mutters as he catches sight of Miriam. "I came
none too soon! I felt some poisonous thing was hovering too near my
white rose." He came to her side and made mystic signs, and called her
by the name of "Gweneth." She opened her eyes. "What wouldst thou,
master," she said. "Where art thou?" he asked.
"Here beside thee, master, but oh, so longing for rest. This journey
through the flesh has been a bitter one. I have come e'en close to my
beloved, and yet another has gained his love. It is hard to serve
without reward. I pray you, my master, let me begone!"
With a tenderness drawn from him, against judgment, the man Alric
knelt beside her, and kissed her white hand. "Sweet one," he said,
"the journey is nearly over. Would that I might tell thee what thou
art become to me. I dare not, lest I lose my power over the thoughts
and actions of the many, through the knowledge that you alone can
impart. Yes, sweet soul, thy mission is all but ended in Egypt, as is
also that of thy brave sister soul. So go forth again Gweneth, and
come not as twain to me in any eon of rolling time, but wait, until as
one soul, I can meet and claim you, forever and forever. But speak,
oh Gweneth, who went from thee?"
"It was the Prince, the King's brother. Long has he loved Miriam, the
Israelite; long has he worshipped her from afar; and to-day he did
speak to her of his hopes, when Egypt held out its crown to him."
"And," said Alric slowly, "Egypt will soon call him King. But haste to
speak to me of other things, dear spirit, for it is thy last service.
Reveal to me the close at hand story of Egypt."
A sigh escaped the white lips ere she said softly: "There will be an
exodus of many besides the Israelites. The idiot King, the fair young
Prince, Zelas the High Priest, Hatsu and Miriam shall go on, and Alric
alone shall be left to abide in the land of his father, lo, these many
years. Zelas and Hatsu shall be caught up in a chariot of fire, and
the King and the Prince shall die, to ransom Israel, and in that same
hour a merciful shaft from heaven shall set Miriam free." She
stretched out her arms and cried: "I pray thee, good master, let me
go! for I am weary."
With a sigh Alric arose. "It will be as thou sayest, sweet one," he
said, "our day is over, and another night of short oblivion draws
near, for the many." Then he made some passes above her, calling:
"Wake, Miriam, awake!" The color came stealing back into her cheeks
and lips, and she looked up to Alric with a perplexed smile. "I am
such a sleepy one," she said, "and such a dreamer of dreams! Listen,
my lord, as I sat me here watching the King and the little Prince at
their play, I fell asleep and had such a strange vision. I thought
that the King's brother came to this arbor, and talked to me as would
a lover. It was an idle, idle dream." And then she rose and (as a
mother might) drew the head of Alric down to her breast and kissed
him.