Moon of Israel: A Tale of the Exodus. Генри Райдер Хаггард

      The body was brought and laid upon the platform, its wide eyes staring up at the moon. Then soldiers who had gathered thrust forward the weeping girl.

      “Cease from tears,” said Seti, “and swear by Kephera the creator, and by Maat the goddess of truth and law, to speak nothing but the truth.”

      The girl looked up and said in a rich low voice that in some way reminded me of honey being poured from a jar, perhaps because it was thick with strangled sobs:

      “O Royal Son of Egypt, I cannot swear by those gods who am a daughter of Israel.”

      The Prince looked at her attentively and asked:

      “By what god then can you swear, O Daughter of Israel?”

      “By Jahveh, O Prince, whom we hold to be the one and only God, the Maker of the world and all that is therein.”

      “Then perhaps his other name is Kephera,” said the Prince with a little smile. “But have it as you will. Swear, then, by your god Jahveh.”

      Then she lifted both her hands above her head and said:

      “I, Merapi, daughter of Nathan of the tribe of Levi of the people of Israel, swear that I will speak the truth and all the truth in the name of Jahveh, the God of Israel.”

      “Tell us what you know of the matter of the death of this man, O Merapi.”

      “Nothing that you do not know yourself, O Prince. He who lies there,” and she swept her hand towards the corpse, turning her eyes away, “was my father, an elder of Israel. The captain Khuaka came when the corn was young to the Land of Goshen to choose those who should work for Pharaoh. He wished to take me into his house. My father refused because from my childhood I had been affianced to a man of Israel; also because it is not lawful under the law for our people to intermarry with your people. Then the captain Khuaka seized my father, although he was of high rank and beyond the age to work for Pharaoh, and he was taken away, as I think, because he would not suffer me to wed Khuaka. A while later I dreamed that my father was sick. Thrice I dreamed it and ran away to Tanis to visit him. But this morning I found him and, O Prince, you know the rest.”

      “Is there no more?” asked Seti.

      The girl hesitated, then answered:

      “Only this, O Prince. This man saw me with my father giving him food, for he was weak and overcome with the toil of digging the mud in the heat of the sun, he who being a noble of our people knew nothing of such labour from his youth. In my presence Khuaka asked my father if now he would give me to him. My father answered that sooner would he see me kissed by snakes and devoured by crocodiles. ‘I hear you,’ answered Khuaka. ‘Learn, now, slave Nathan, before to-morrow’s sun arises, you shall be kissed by swords and devoured by crocodiles or jackals.’ ‘So be it,’ said my father, ‘but learn, O Khuaka, that if so, it is revealed to me who am a priest and a prophet of Jahveh, that before to-morrow’s sun you also shall be kissed by swords and of the rest we will talk at the foot of Jahveh’s throne.’

      “Afterwards, as you know, Prince, the overseer flogged my father as I heard Khuaka order him to do if he lagged through weariness, and then Khuaka killed him because my father in his madness struck the overseer with a mattock. I have no more to say, save that I pray that I may be sent back to my own people there to mourn my father according to our custom.”

      “To whom would you be sent? Your mother?”

      “Nay, O Prince, my mother, a lady of Syria, is dead. I will go to my uncle, Jabez the Levite.”

      “Stand aside,” said Seti. “The matter shall be seen to later. Appear, O Ana the Scribe. Swear the oath and tell us what you have seen of this man’s death, since two witnesses are needful.”

      So I swore and repeated all this story that I have written down.

      “Now, Khuaka,” said the Prince when I had finished, “have you aught to say?”

      “Only this, O Royal One,” answered the captain throwing himself upon his knees, “that I struck you by accident, not knowing that the person of your Highness was hidden in that long cloak. For this deed it is true that I am worthy of death, but I pray you to pardon me because I knew not what I did. The rest is nothing, since I only slew a mutinous slave of the Israelites, as such are slain every day.”

      “Tell me, O Khuaka, who are being tried for this man’s death and not for the striking of one of royal blood by chance, under which law it is lawful for you to kill an Israelite without trial before the appointed officers of Pharaoh.”

      “I am not learned. I do not know the law, O Prince. All that this woman said is false.”

      “At least it is not false that yonder man lies dead and that you slew him, as you yourself admit. Learn now, and let all Egypt learn, that even an Israelite may not be murdered for no offence save that of weariness and of paying back unearned blow with blow. Your blood shall answer for his blood. Soldiers! Strike off his head.”

      The Nubians leapt upon him, and when I looked again Khuaka’s headless corpse lay by the corpse of the Hebrew Nathan and their blood was mingled upon the steps of the temple.

      “The business of the Court is finished,” said the Prince. “Officers, see that this woman is escorted to her own people, and with her the body of her father for burial. See, too, upon your lives that no insult or harm is done to her. Scribe Ana, accompany me hence to my house where I would speak with you. Let guards precede and follow me.”

      He rose and all the people bowed. As he turned to go the lady Merapi stepped forward, and falling upon her knees, said:

      “O most just Prince, now and ever I am your servant.”

      Then we set out, and as we left the market-place on our way to the palace of the Prince, I heard a tumult of voices behind us, some in praise and some in blame of what had been done. We walked on in silence broken only by the measured tramp of the guards. Presently the moon passed behind a cloud and the world was dark. Then from the edge of the cloud sprang out a ray of light that lay straight and narrow above us on the heavens. Seti studied it a while and said:

      “Tell me, O Ana, of what does that moonbeam put you in mind?”

      “Of a sword, O Prince,” I answered, “stretched out over Egypt and held in the black hand of some mighty god or spirit. See, there is the blade from which fall little clouds like drops of blood, there is the hilt of gold, and look! there beneath is the face of the god. Fire streams from his eyebrows and his brow is black and awful. I am afraid, though what I fear I know not.”

      “You have a poet’s mind, Ana. Still, what you see I see and of this I am sure, that some sword of vengeance is indeed stretched out over Egypt because of its evil doings, whereof this light may be the symbol. Behold! it seems to fall upon the temples of the gods and the palace of Pharaoh, and to cleave them. Now it is gone and the night is as nights were from the beginning of the world. Come to my chamber and let us eat. I am weary, I need food and wine, as you must after struggling with that lustful murderer whom I have sent to his own place.”

      The guards saluted and were dismissed. We mounted to the Prince’s private chambers, in one of which his servants clad me in fine linen robes after a skilled physician of the household had doctored the bruises upon my thigh over which he tied a bandage spread with balm. Then I was led to a small dining-hall, where I found the Prince waiting for me as though I were some honoured guest and not a poor scribe who had wondered hence from Memphis with my wares. He caused me to sit down at his right hand and even drew up the chair for me himself, whereat I felt abashed. To this day I remember that leather-seated chair. The arms of it ended in ivory sphinxes and on its back of black wood in an oval was inlaid the name of the great Rameses, to whom indeed it had once belonged. Dishes were handed to us—only two of them and those quite simple, for Seti was no great eater—by a young Nubian slave of a very merry face, and with them wine more delicious than any I had ever tasted.

      We ate and drank and the