Cleopatra: Chapter 1

Chapter 1

OF THE ESCAPE OF HARMACHIS FROM TARSUS; OF HIS BEING CAST FORTH AS AN
OFFERING TO THE GODS OF THE SEA; OF HIS SOJOURN IN THE ISLE OF CYPRUS;
OF HIS RETURN TO ABOUTHIS; AND OF THE DEATH OF AMENEMHAT

I made my way down the stair in safety, and presently stood in the
courtyard of that great house. It was but an hour from dawn, and none
were stirring. The last reveller had drunk his fill, the dancing-girls
had ceased their dancing, and silence lay upon the city. I drew near the
gate, and was challenged by an officer who stood on guard, wrapped in a
heavy cloak.

"Who passes," said the voice of Brennus.

"A merchant, may it please you, Sir, who, having brought gifts from
Alexandria to a lady of the Queen's household, and, having been
entertained of the lady, now departs to his galley," I answered in a
feigned voice.

"Umph!" he growled. "The ladies of the Queen's household keep their
guests late. Well; it is a time of festival. The pass-word, Sir
Shopkeeper? Without the pass-word you must needs return and crave the
lady's further hospitality."

"'_Antony_,' Sir; and a right good word, too. Ah! I've wandered far, and
never saw I so goodly a man or so great a general. And, mark you, Sir!
I've travelled far, and seen many generals."

"Ay; '_Antony_''s the word! And Antony is a good general in his
way--when it is a sober way, and when he cannot find a skirt to follow.
I've served with Antony--and against him, too; and know his points.
Well, well; he's got an armful now!"

And all this while that he was holding me in talk, the sentry had been
pacing to and fro before the gate. But now he moved a little way to the
right, leaving the entrance clear.

"Fare thee well, Harmachis, and begone!" whispered Brennus, leaning
forward and speaking quickly. "Linger not. But at times bethink thee of
Brennus who risked his neck to save thine. Farewell, lad, I would that
we were sailing North together," and he turned his back upon me and
began to hum a tune.

"Farewell, Brennus, thou honest man," I answered, and was gone. And, as
I heard long afterwards, when on the morrow the hue and cry was
raised because the murderers could not find me, though they sought me
everywhere to slay me, Brennus did me a service. For he swore that as
he kept his watch alone an hour after midnight he saw me come and stand
upon the parapet of the roof, that then I stretched out my robes
and they became wings on which I floated up to Heaven, leaving him
astonished. And all those about the Court lent ear to this history,
believing in it, because of the great fame of my magic; and they
wondered much what the marvel might portend. The tale also travelled
into Egypt, and did much to save my good name among those whom I had
betrayed; for the more ignorant among them believed that I acted not
of my will, but of the will of the dread Gods, who of their own purpose
wafted me into Heaven. And thus to this day the saying runs that "_When
Harmachis comes again Egypt shall be free._" But alas, Harmachis comes
no more! Only Cleopatra, though she was much afraid, doubted her of the
tale, and sent an armed vessel to search for the Syrian merchant, but
not to find him, as shall be told.

When I reached the galley of which Charmion had spoken, I found her
about to sail, and gave the writing to the captain, who conned it,
looking on me curiously, but said nothing.

So I went aboard, and immediately we dropped swiftly down the river with
the current. And having come to the mouth of the river unchallenged,
though we passed many vessels, we put out to sea with a strong favouring
wind that before night freshened to a great gale. Then the sailor men,
being much afraid, would have put about and run for the mouth of Cydnus
again, but could not because of the wildness of the sea. All that night
it blew furiously, and by dawn our mast was carried away, and we rolled
helplessly in the trough of the great waves. But I sat wrapped in a
cloak, little heeding; and because I showed no fear the sailors cried
out that I was a wizard, and sought to cast me into the sea, but the
captain would not. At dawn the wind slackened, but ere noon it once more
blew in terrible fury, and at the fourth hour from noon we came in sight
of the rocky coast of that cape in the island of Cyprus which is called
Dinaretum, where is a mountain named Olympus, and thither-wards we
drifted swiftly. Then, when the sailors saw the terrible rocks, and how
the great waves that smote on them spouted up in foam, once more they
grew much afraid, and cried out in their fear. For, seeing that I still
sat unmoved, they swore that I certainly was a wizard, and came to
cast me forth as a sacrifice to the Gods of the sea. And this time the
captain was over-ruled, and said nothing. Therefore, when they came to
me I rose and defied them, saying, "Cast me forth, if ye will; but if ye
cast me forth ye shall perish."

For in my heart I cared little, having no more any love of life,
but rather a desire to die, though I greatly feared to pass into the
presence of my Holy Mother Isis. But my weariness and sorrow at the
bitterness of my lot overcame even this heavy fear; so that when, being
mad as brute beasts, they seized me and, lifting me, hurled me into the
raging waters, I did but utter one prayer to Isis and made ready for
death. But it was fated that I should not die; for, when I rose to the
surface of the water, I saw a spar of wood floating near me, to which I
swam and clung. And a great wave came and swept me, riding, as it were,
upon the spar, as when a boy I had learned to do in the waters of the
Nile, past the bulwarks of the galley where the fierce-faced sailors
clustered to see me drown. And when they saw me come mounted on the
wave, cursing them as I came, and saw, too, that the colour of my
face had changed--for the salt water had washed way the pigment, they
shrieked with fear and threw themselves down upon the deck. And within a
very little while, as I rode toward the rocky coast, a great wave poured
into the vessel, that rolled broadside on, and pressed her down into the
deep, whence she rose no more.

So she sank with all her crew. And in that same storm also sank the
galley which Cleopatra had sent to search for the Syrian merchant. Thus
all traces of me were lost, and of a surety she believed that I was
dead.

But I rode on toward the shore. The wind shrieked and the salt waves
lashed my face as, alone with the tempest, I rushed upon my way, while
the sea-birds screamed about my head. I felt no fear, but rather a wild
uplifting of the heart; and in the stress of my imminent peril the love
of life seemed to waken again. And so I plunged and drifted, now tossed
high toward the lowering clouds, now cast into the deep valleys of the
sea, till at length the rocky headland loomed before me, and I saw the
breakers smite upon the stubborn rocks, and through the screaming of
the wind heard the sullen thunder of their fall and the groan of stones
sucked seaward from the beach. On! high-throned upon the mane of a
mighty billow--fifty cubits beneath me the level of the hissing waters;
above me the inky sky! It was done! The spar was torn from me, and,
dragged downwards by the weight of the bag of gold and the clinging of
my garments, I sank struggling furiously.

Now I was under--the green light for a moment streamed through the
waters, and then came darkness, and on the darkness pictures of the
past. Picture after picture--all the long scene of life was written
here. Then in my ears I only heard the song of the nightingale, the
murmur of the summer sea, and the music of Cleopatra's laugh of victory,
following me softly and yet more soft as I sank away to sleep.

Once more my life came back, and with it a sense of deadly sickness and
of aching pain. I opened my eyes and saw a kind face bending over me,
and knew that I was in the room of a builded house.

"How came I hither?" I asked faintly.

"Of a truth, Poseidon brought thee, Stranger," answered a rough voice
in barbarous Greek; "we found thee cast high upon the beach like a dead
dolphin and brought thee to our house, for we are fisher-folk. And here,
methinks, thou must lie a while, for thy left leg is broken by the force
of the waves."

I strove to move my foot and could not. It was true, the bone was broken
above the knee.

"Who art thou, and how art thou named?" asked the rough-bearded sailor.

"I am an Egyptian traveller whose ship has sunk in the fury of the gale,
and I am named Olympus," I answered, for these people called a mountain
that we had sighted Olympus, and therefore I took the name at hazard.
And as Olympus I was henceforth known.

Here with these rough fisher-folk I abode for the half of a year, paying
them a little out of the sum of gold that had come safely ashore upon
me. For it was long before my bones grew together again, and then I was
left somewhat of a cripple; for I, who had been so tall and straight and
strong, now limped--one limb being shorter than the other. And after I
recovered from my hurt, I still lived there, and toiled with them at the
trade of fishing; for I knew not whither I should go or what I should
do, and, for a while, I was fain to become a peasant fisherman, and so
wear my weary life away. And these people entreated me kindly, though,
as others, they feared me much, holding me to be a wizard brought hither
by the sea. For my sorrows had stamped so strange an aspect on my face
that men gazing at me grew fearful of what lay beneath its calm.

There, then, I abode, till at length, one night as I lay and strove to
sleep, great restlessness came upon me, and a mighty desire once more to
see the face of Sihor. But whether this desire was of the Gods or born
of my own heart, not knowing, I cannot tell. So strong was it, at the
least, that before it was dawn I rose from my bed of straw and
clothed myself in my fisher garb, and, because I had no wish to answer
questions, thus I took farewell of my humble hosts. First I placed some
pieces of gold on the well-cleaned table of wood, and then taking a pot
of flour I strewed it in the form of letters, writing:

"This gift from Olympus, the Egyptian, who returns into the sea."

Then I went, and on the third day I came to the great city of Salamis,
that is also on the sea. Here I abode in the fishermen's quarters till
a vessel was about to sail for Alexandria, and to the captain of this
vessel, a man of Paphos, I hired myself as a sailor. We sailed with a
favouring wind, and on the fifth day I came to Alexandria, that hateful
city, and saw the light dancing on its golden domes.

Here I might not abide. So again I hired myself out as a sailor, giving
my labour in return for passage, and we passed up the Nile. And I
learned from the talk of men that Cleopatra had come back to Alexandria,
drawing Antony with her and that they lived together with royal state
in the palace on the Lochias. Indeed, the boatmen already had a song
thereon, which they sang as they laboured at the oar. Also I heard how
the galley that was sent to search for the vessel which carried the
Syrian merchant had foundered with all her crew, and the tale that the
Queen's astronomer, Harmachis, had flown to Heaven from the roof of the
house at Tarsus. And the sailors wondered because I sat and laboured and
would not sing their ribald song of the loves of Cleopatra. For they,
too, began to fear me, and mutter concerning me among themselves. Then
I knew that I was a man accursed and set apart--a man whom none might
love.

On the sixth day we drew nigh to Abouthis, where I left the craft, and
the sailors were right glad to see me go. And, with a breaking heart, I
walked through the fertile fields, seeing faces that I knew well. But in
my rough disguise and limping gait none knew me. At length, as the sun
sank, I came near to the great outer pylon of the temple; and here I
crouched down in the ruins of a house, not knowing why I had come or
what I was about to do. Like a lost ox I had strayed from far, back to
the fields of my birth, and for what? If my father, Amenemhat, still
lived, surely he would turn his face from me. I dared not go into the
presence of my father. I sat hidden there among the broken rafters, and
idly watched the pylon gates, to see if, perchance, a face I knew should
issue from them. But none came forth or entered in, though the great
gates stood wide; and then I saw that herbs were growing between the
stones, where no herbs had grown for ages. What could this be? Was the
temple deserted? Nay; how could the worship of the eternal Gods have
ceased, that for thousands of years had, day by day, been offered in the
holy place? Was, then, my father dead? It well might be. And yet, why
this silence? Where were the priests: where the worshippers?

I could bear the doubt no more, but as the sun sank red I crept like a
hunted jackal through the open gates, and on till I reached the first
great Hall of Pillars. Here I paused and gazed around me--not a sight,
not a sound, in the dim and holy place! I went on with a beating heart
to the second great hall, the hall of six-and-thirty pillars where I
had been crowned Lord of all the Lands: still not a sight or a sound!
Thence, half fearful of my own footfall, so terribly did it echo in the
silence of the deserted Holies, I passed down the passage of the names
of the Pharaohs towards my father's chamber. The curtain still swung
over the doorway; but what would there be within?--also emptiness? I
lifted it, and noiselessly passed in, and there in his carven chair
at the table on which his long white beard flowed, sat my father,
Amenemhat, clad in his priestly robes. At first I thought that he was
dead, he sat so still; but at length he turned his head, and I saw that
his eyes were white and sightless. He was blind, and his face was thin
as the face of a dead man, and woeful with age and grief.

I stood still and felt the blind eyes wandering over me. I could not
speak to him--I dared not speak to him; I would go and hide myself
afresh.

I had already turned and grasped the curtain, when my father spoke in a
deep, slow voice:

"Come hither, thou who wast my son and art a traitor. Come hither, thou
Harmachis, on whom Khem builded up her hope. Not in vain, then, have I
drawn thee from far away! Not in vain have I held my life in me till I
heard thy footfall creeping down these empty Holies, like the footfall
of a thief!"

"Oh! my father," I gasped, astonished. "Thou art blind: how knowest thou
me?"

"How do I know thee?--and askest thou that who hast learned of our lore?
Enough, I know thee and I brought thee hither. Would, Harmachis, that I
knew thee not! Would that I had been blasted of the Invisible ere I drew
thee down from the womb of Nout, to be my curse and shame, and the last
woe of Khem!"

"Oh, speak not thus!" I moaned; "is not my burden already more than I
can bear? Am I not myself betrayed and utterly outcast? Be pitiful, my
father!"

"Be pitiful!--be pitiful to thee who hast shown so great pity? It
was thy pity which gave up noble Sepa to die beneath the hands of the
tormentors!"

"Oh, not that--not that!" I cried.

"Ay, traitor, that!--to die in agony, with his last poor breath
proclaiming thee, his murderer, honest and innocent! Be pitiful to
thee, who gavest all the flower of Khem as the price of a wanton's
arms!--thinkest thou that, labouring in the darksome desert mines, those
noble ones in thought are pitiful to thee, Harmachis? Be pitiful to
thee, by whom this Holy Temple of Abouthis hath been ravaged, its lands
seized, its priests scattered, and I alone, old and withered, left to
count out its ruin--to thee, who hast poured the treasures of _Her_ into
thy leman's lap, who hast forsworn Thyself, thy Country, thy Birthright,
and thy Gods! Yea, thus am I pitiful: Accursed be thou, fruit of my
loins!--Shame be thy portion, Agony thy end, and Hell receive thee at
the last! Where art thou? Yea, I grew blind with weeping when I heard
the truth--sure, they strove to hide it from me. Let me find thee that I
may spit upon thee, thou Renegade! thou Apostate! thou Outcast!"--and he
rose from his seat and staggered like a living Wrath toward me, smiting
the air with his wand. And as he came with outstretched arms, awful to
see, suddenly his end found him, and with a cry he sank down upon the
ground, the red blood streaming from his lips. I ran to him and lifted
him; and as he died, he babbled:

"He was my son, a bright-eyed lovely boy, and full of promise as the
Spring; and now--and now--oh, would that he were dead!"

Then came a pause and the breath rattled in his throat.

"Harmachis," he gasped, "art there?"

"Yea, father."

"Harmachis, atone!--atone! Vengeance can still be wreaked--forgiveness
may still be won. There's gold; I've hidden it--Atoua--she can tell
thee--ah, this pain! Farewell!"

And he struggled faintly in my arms and was dead.

Thus, then, did I and my holy father, the Prince Amenemhat, meet
together for the last time in the flesh, and for the last time part.

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