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32X

' 1

THE WORLD'S DESIRE

A TALE OF OLD EGYPT

FULL OF

MARVELS AND ADVENTURES.

H. RIDER HAGGARD

AND

ANDREW LANG

TORONTO:
WILLIAM BRYCE.

yO'^

f^ d \J \)

Kn.e,ed acc.r<Hn, to Act of ♦'- T>.'Hi=Kr.ent^o^Ouyaa. -^^^^^^ ^-
LiMM.sand .Mght hundred and OU.ety by W ILLIAM BK^Ch in

Minister of AgiiculUire.

\\h

■T'l

PALINODE.

Thou that of old didst blind Sfeaichonis,
If e'er, swoet Helen, such a thin^ befcll,
We pray thee of thy grace, lit? ^ood to us,
Thon<i;li little in our tale accordL'th well
With that thine ancient njinftrel had to tell,
Who saw, with sightless eyes grown luminous,
Those Ilian sorrows, and who heard the swell
OC ocean round the world ring tliunderous,
And thy voice break when knightly Hector fell!

And thou who all these many years hast borne
To see the great w bs of thy weaving torn
By puny hands of di'll, o'er-learned men,
Homer, forgive us tl at thy hero's star
Once more above sea waves and waves of war,
Must rise, must triumph, and mii • set again I

'tV:

Come with us, ye whose heart'; are set

On this, the Present to forget ;

Corne nuid the things whereof ye know

Tney ivere not, and rould not bf .so/

Tho in\irmur of the falh'n creed-s.

Lik<' winds nmoiig wind-shnken roeds

Along the banks of holy Nile,

Shall echo in your ears the wliile ;

The fables of tlie North and S'luth

Shall mingle in a modern mouth;

The fancies of the West and East

Sliall flock and fHt about the teast

Like doves that ci>oled, with waving v< ng,

The banquets (jf the Cyprian king.

Old shapes of -ong that do not die

Shall haunt the halls of memory,

And though the Bow f^'fH pndude ' h ar

Shrill as the song t f Gunnar i .,peaT,

There answer soLs from lute and lyre

That murmured of The World's Desire.

-I

There lives no man but he hath seen
The World's Desire, the fairy queen.
None but hath seen her to his cost.
Not one but loves what he has lost.
N<^ne is there but hath heard her sing
Divinely through his wandering ;
Not one but he hath followed far
The portent of the Bleeding Star ;
Not one but he hath chanced to wake,
Dreamed of the Star and found the Snake.
Yet, through his dreams, a wandering fire.
Still, still she flits, The World's Desire I

•>;

CONTEND?

BOOK I.

•HAP.

I. THK SfLKNT rstLE

11. TIIK VISION OF THK WOKI.l) S JUvSniE

III. TllIC SLAVJNCi i»F Till; SJDO.NfAN.S

IV. TiiK m>ooi> Ki;i> ;-i:a

V. MEKIAMl N THE (^UKi N

VI. THK STOHV OF MKUIAMIN ...

VII. THE QUKKX'S VISIOX ....

V'lll. THE KA, THE BAI, AM) TJII-; iaioU ..

PAOK

37
46
54
66
75

BOOK II.

M ■*■

./.iV

I, THE PROPHETS OF THE Ai'l !; \

II. THE NIGHT OF DR?:AD

in. THE HAI'HS OF BRONZE

IV. THE QUEZN's ( HAMBKR

V. THE CHAPEL PKRILOl'S

VI. THE VVARM;NS of THK (iATF,

\1I. THE SHADOW IN ["HE ST.rNJ IGHT

. 91

. 102

. 116

lo3

,. 14.)

l-'i,")

hit)

VIII.

IX.

XI.

CONIENTS.

THE LOOSING OP TIIK SPIKIT OF REI

THK WAKINCJ OF TIIK SLKEPEll

TUB OATH OP THF. WANDEIlKIl

THB WAKING OF THE WANDERER ...

iMur

• • •

178

• t •

187

• ■ •

200

• ••

211

ye.

BOOK III.

I. THE VENGEANCE OF KHRRI ,., ... 220

II. THE COMING OF PHARAOH ... ... 232

III. THE HKD OF TORMENT ... ... ... 243

IV. Pharaoh's dream ... ... ... 256

V. THE VOICE OF THE DEAD ... ... ... 2«i5

VI. THE m;UMNG OF THE SHRI >JE ... ... 280

VII. THE LAST FICHT OF ODV.SHEUS, LAERTES' SON ... 290

VIII 'TILL ODYSSEUS COMES 1 ' ... .„ ... 304

BOOK I.
CHAPTER T.

THE SILKNT ISLE.

Across the wide backs of the waves, beneath the
mountains, and between the islands, a sl»ip came steal-
intr from tlie dark into the dusl and from the dusk
into the dawn. The ship had bu. one mast, one broad
brown sail with a star embroidered on it in gold ; her
stem and stern were built high, and curved like a bird's
beak ; her prow was painted scarlet, and she was driven
by oars as well as by the western wind.

A man stood alone on the half-deck at the bows, a
man who looked always forward, tlirough the night, and
the twilight, and the clear morning. He was of no
great stature, but broad-breasted and very wide-
shouldered, with many signs of strength. He had blue
eyes, and dark cuiled locks falling beneath a red cap
such as sailors wear, and over a purple cloak, fastened
with a brooch of gold. There were threads of silver in
his curls, and his beard was flecked with white. His
whole heart was following his eyes, watching first for

THE WORljys DESIRE,

the blaze of the ialuiid brarons out of thu HarkFit'Ss,
and, hiter, for the smoke risiiifr from the far-off hillH.
IJut he watched in vain ; there was neither light nor
smoke on the gray peak that lay clear against a field
of yellow sky.

There was no smoke, no fire, no sound of voices, nor
cry of birds. The isle was deadly still.

As they nearod the <;oast, and neither heard nor saw
a sign of life, the man's face fell. The ^]adne.ss went
out of his eyes, his features grew older with anxiety
and doubt, and with longing for tidings of his home.

No man ever loved his home more than he, for this
wtus Odysseus, the son of Laertes — whom some call
(Tlys.ses — returned from his unsung second wandering.
The whole world has heartl the tale of his first voyage,
how he was tossed for ten years on the sea after the
taking ol" Troy, how he rea<.']ied home at last, alone and
disguised as a beggar ; liow he found violence in his
house, how he slew his fbos in his own hall, and won
his wife ngain. But even in his own country he wns
not permitted to rest, for there was a curse upon him
and a labour to be v ;complished. He must v/ander
again till he reacl)ed the land ot men who had
never tasted salt, nor ever h(?ard of tlie salt sea. There
he must sacrifice to the Set-God, and then, at last, set
his face homewards. Now he had endured that curse,
he had fulfilled the prophecy, he had angered, by mis-
adventure, the Goddess who was his friend, and after
adventures that have never yet buun told, he had
arrived within a bowshot of Ithaca.

He came from stran<:e comitrics, from the Gates of

THE SILENT ISLE,

the Run :iii(l the White Rock, fn>m (lio PjihsIii;,' Place
of Souls HiMJ lli^- |K!opIe of Dreams.

But he found his own isU' lunn- still and stranj^e hy tar.
The re^lni of Dn'anis was not so dundj, the (Jatesof the
Sun were not so Htill, as the shores of the familiar iahind
beneath the rising dawn.

This story, whereof the substanee was set out lon^^
ago by Uei, the instrueted Kgyptian priest, tells what
he found tluie, and the tale of the last ndvtiitures of
(Klysseus, Laei f.es' son.

The ship ran on nnd won the well-known haven,
sheltered from wind by two headlands of sheer i;litf.
There she sailed straiL;ht in, till the leaves of the brjud
olive tree at tlie head of the inlet were tangled in lier
cordage. Then the Wanden;r, without once looking
back, or saying one word of fannvell to his erew, caught
a boujjh of the olive tree with his h;i ud, and swuui:
himself ashore. Here he kneeled, and kissed the earth,
and, covering his head within his cloak, he ]>rayed that
he might find his house at peace, his wife dear and
true, .'ind his son worthy of him.

But not one word of his prayer was to be granted.
The Gods give and take, but on the earth the Gods
cannot restore.

When he rose from his knees he glanced back across
the waters, but there was now u<> ship in the haven,
nor any sign of a sail upon the se:is.

And still the land was silent ; not i-'veu the wild birds

ied

lC(

a welcome

The sun was hardly up, men were scarce awake, the
Wanderer said to himself; and he set a stout heait

IHE WORLDS DESIRE.

to the steep path leadmg up the hill, over the wolds,
and across t]\e ridge of 'ock that divides the two masses
of the island. Up he eliirbed, purposing, as of old, to
seek the house of h*s faithful servant, the swineherd,
and learn from hirn the tidinirs of his home. On the
brow of a hill he sto^ ,)ed to rest, and looked down on
the house of the servant. But the strong oak palisade
was broken, no smoke came from the hole in the
thatched roof, and as lie approached, the dogs did not
run barking, as sheep-dogs do, at the stranger. The
very path to the house was overgrown, and dumb with
grass ; even a dog's keen ears could scarcely have heard
a footstep.

The door of the swineherd's hut was open, but all
was dark within. The spiders had woven a glittering
web across the empty blackness, a sign that ior many
days no man had entered. Then the Wanderer shouted
twice, and thrice, but the only answer was an echo from
the hill. He went in, hoping to find food, or perhaps a
spark of fire sheltered under the dry leaves. But all
was vacant and r )ld as death.

The Wanderer came forth into the warm sunlight,
S" \h face to the hill again, and went on his way to
tht :..:.ty of Ithaca.

Hi savy the sea from the hill-top glittering as of yore,
h'<:i> there were no brown sails of fisher-boats on the sea.
All the land that should now have waved with the
white corn was green with tangled weeds. Half-way
down the nigged path was a grove of alders, and the
basin into which water flowed from the old fountain of
the Nymphs. But no maidens were there with their

if
':..f

-I .

THE SILENT ISLE.

pitchers ; the basin was broken, and green with mould ;
the water slipped through the crevices and hurried to
the sea. There were no offerings of wayfarers, rags and
pebbles, by the well ; and on tlie altar of the Nymphs
the riame had long been cold. The very ashes were
covered with grass, and a branch of ivy had hidden the
stone of sacrifice.

On the Wanderer pressed with a heavy heart ; now
the higii roof of his own hall and the wide fenced courts
were within his sight, and he hurried forward to know
the worst.

Too soon he saw that the roofs were smokeless, and
all the court was deep in weeds. Where the altar of
Zeus had stood in the midst of the court there was now
DO altar, but a great, gray mound, not of earth, but of
whitedurft mixed with black. Ove this mound the coarse
grass pricked up scantily, like thin hair on a leprosy.

Then the Wanderer shuddered, for out of the gray
mound peeped the charred black bones of the dead.
He drew near, and, lo ! the whole heap was of nothing
else than the ashes of men and women. Death had
been busy here : here many people had perished of a
pestilence. They had all been consumed on one funeral
tire, while they who laid them there must nave fled, for
there was no sign of living man. The doors gaped
open, and none entered, and none came forth. The
house was dead, like the people who had dwelt in it.

Then the Wanderer paused where once the old
hound Argos had welcomed him and had died ia that
welcome. There, unwelcorned, he stood, leaning on his
Blatf. Then a sudden ray of the sun fell on something

THE WORLD'S DESIRE.

th;\t glittered in the heap, anil he tcjuched it with the
end 01 +he statf he had in his hand. It slid jingling
from the heap ; it was a bone, of a fore-arm, and that
which glittered on it was a half-molten ring of gold.
On the gold these characters were engraved :

IKMAAIOS MKHOIESEN.

(Icmalios made me.)

At the sight of the armlet the Wanderer fell on the
earth, grovelling nmong the ashes of the pyre, for he
knew the gold ring which he had brought from Ephyre
long ago, for a gift to his wife Penek-pe. This was the
bracelet of the bride of his youth, and here, a mockery
and a terror, wero those kind arms in which he had
lain. Then his ;5trength was shaken with sobbing,
and his hands clutched blindly before him, and he
gatlu red dust and cast it upon his head till the dark
locks were defiled witli the ashes of his dearest, and he
longed to die.

There he lay, b;ting his hands for sorrow, and for
Avrath against God and F'ate. Thc.f> he la}' while the
tsun in the heavens smote him, and he knew it not;
while the wind of the sunset stirred in his hair, and he
stirred not. He could not even shed one tear, for this
was the sorest of all the sorrows that he had known
on the waves of the sea, or on land among the wars
of men.

The sun fell and tlie ways were darkened. Slowly
the eastern sky grew silver with the moon. A night-
fowl's voice was heard from afar, it drew nearer ; then
through the shadow of the pyre the black wings tlut-

•■t

THE SILENT ISLE.

tered into the light. otkI the carrion bird fixed its t<al()us
and its leak on the \\ auderer's neck. Tlieu ho moved
at lengtli, tossed up an arm, and caught the bird of
darkness by the neck, and broke it, and dashed it on
the ground. His sick heart was mad with the little
sudden pain, and he clutched for the knife in his girdle
that lie might slay himself, but he was unarmed. At
last he rose, muttering, and stood in the moonlight, like
a lion in some ruinous palace of forgotten kings. He
was faint with hunger and weak with long lamenting,
as he stepped within his own doors. There he paused
on that high threshold of stone where once he had sat
in the disguise of a beggar, that very threshold whence,
on another day, he had shot the sliafts of doom among
the wooers of his wife and the wasters of his home.
But now his wife was dead : all his voyaging was ended
here, and all his wars were vain. In the white light
the house of his kingship was no more than the ghost
of a home, dreadful, unfamiliar, empty of warmth and
love and light. The tables were fallen here and there
through the long hall; mouldering bones, from the
funeral feast, and shattered cups and dishes lay in one
confusion; the ivory chairs were broken, and on the
walls the moonbeams glistened now and again from
points of steel and blades of bronze, though many
swords were dark with rust.

But there, in its gleaming case, lay one thing friendly
and familiar. There lay the B(jw of Elurytus, the bow
for which gr(;at Heracles had slain his own host in
his halls; the dreadful bow t' at no mortal man but
the Wanderer coukl bend. Ho wa^ ;n ver used to cany

HIE WORLD'S DESIRE.

this precious b"\v witli him on shiph unci, when he went
to the wars, but trea-ured it at lioin»j, the memorial
of a dear friend foully slain. So now, vvhen the voices
of (log, and slave, and child, and wife were mute, there
vet came out of the stillness a word of welcome to the
Wanderer. For this bow, which had thrilled in the
grip of a god, and had scattered the shafts of the
vengeance of Heracles, was wondrously made and
magical. A spirit dwelt within it which knew of
things to come, which boded the battle from afar, and
therefore always before the slaying of men the bow
sang strangely through the night. The voice of it was
thin and shHll, a ringing ;rnd a singing of the string
and of the bow. While the Wanderer stood and looked
on his weapon, hark ! the bow began to thrill ! The
sound was faint at first, a thin note, but as he listened
the voice of it in that silence grew clear, strong, angry,
and triuni])hant. In his ears and to his heart it seemed
that the wordless cliant rang thus —

Kei;n aiul low
' ' ■ Doth the arrow sing

Tlie Song ol the Bow,
The pound of the string.
. ■ The eliafts cry .shrill :

Let us forth a<:ain,
■'f • • Let U'^ feed our iill

On tlie tiesh of men.
Greedy and iietit

Do we fly from far > '

Like the birds that meet "■;

> For the feast of war,

Till the air of tight

With our wings be stirred, v .
As it whirrs from the tiight
Of th« ravdning bird.

1 1

THE SILENT ISLE.

Like the flakes that drift

On the snow- wind's br ith,
Miiny and swift,

And winged for death —
Greedy and Heet,

Do we speed from far,
Like the birds that meet

On the bridge of war.
Fleet as ghosts tliat wail,

When the dart strikes true,
Do the swift shafts hail,

Till they drink warm ilew
Keen and low

Do the gray shafts sing
The Song of the Bow,

The sound of the string.

This was the message of Death, and this was the first
sound that had broken the stillness of his home.

At the welcome of this music which spoke to his heart
— this music he had heard so many a time — the Wan-
derer knew that there was war at hand. He knew that
the wings of his arrows should be swift to fly, and their
beaks of bronze were whetted to drink the blood of
men. He put out his hand and took the bow, and tried
the string, and it answered shrill as the song of the
swallow.

Then at lencrth, when he heard the bowstring t\vansf
to his touch, the fountains of his sorrosv were unsealed ;
tears came like soft rains on a frozen land, and the
Wanderer wept.

When he had his fill of weeping, he rose, for hunger
drove him — hunger that is of all things the most shame-
less, being stronger far than sorrow, or love, or any other
desire. The Wanderer found his way through the
narrow door behind the dais, and stumbling now and

TME IVORLD'S DESIRE.

again over fallen fraj^raents of tlie home which he
himself had built, he went, to the inner, secret store-
house. Even he could scarcely find the door, for sap-
lings of trees had grown up about it ; yet he found it at
last. Within the holy Wv'^ll the water was yet babbling
and shining in the moonlight over the silver sands ; and
here, too, there was store of mouldering grain, for
the house had been abundantly rich when the great
plague fell upon the people while he was far away.
So he found food to satisfy his hunger, after a sort,
and next he gathered tog tether out of his treasure-chest
the beautiful golden armour of unhappy Paris, son of
Priam, the talse love of fair Helen. These arms had
been taken at the sack of Troy, and had lain long iu
the treasury of Menelaus in Spai ta ; but on a day he
had given them to Odysseus, the dearest of all his
guests. The Wanderer clad himself in this golden
gear, and took the sword called 'Euryalus's Gift,' a
bronze blade with a silver hilt, and a sheath of ivory,
which a stranger had given him in a far-off land.
Already the love of life had come back to him, now
that he had eaten and drunk, find had heard the Sonir
of the Bow, the Slayer of Men. He lived yet, and
hope livei in him though Ins house was desolate, and
his wedded wife was dead, and there was none to
give him tidings of his one child, Telemachus. Even
so life beat strong in his heart, and his hands would
keep his head if any sea-robbers had come to the city of
Ithaca and made their home there, like hawks in the
forsaken nest of an eagle of the sea. So he clad himself
in his armour, and chose out two spears from a stand of

':^

mji. ."ilLEMT ISLE.

lancoa, and cleaned them, and girt about his shoulders a
quiver full of shafts, and took in hand his great bow,
the Bow of Eurytus, which no other man could bend.

Then he went forth from the ruined house into the
moonlight, went forth for the last time ; for never again
did the high roof echo to the footstep of its lonl. Long
has the grass grown over it, and the sea-wind waited !

Ind
Ind
to
ren
lid
of
bhe
self

THE WORLUS DESIRE.

CHAPTER II.

THE VISION OF THE WORLD'S DESIRE.

The fragrant night was clear ami still, the silence
scarce broken by the lapping of the waves, as the
Wanderer went down fiom his fallen home to the city
on the sea, walking warily, and watching for any light
from the hoiues of the people. But they were all as
dark as his own, many of them roofless and ruined, for,
after the plague, an earthquake had smitten the city.
Tl ,re were gapiiig chasms in the road, here and there,
an ' through lifts in the walls of the houses the moon
shone strangtdy, making nigged shadows. At last the
Wanderer reached tlie Temple of Athene, the Goddess
of War ; but the roof had fallen in, the pillars were
overset, and the scent of wild thyme growing in the
broken pavement rose where he walked. Yet, as he
stood by the door of the fane, where he had burned so
many a sacrifice, at length he spied a light blazing from
the windows of a great chapel by the sea. It was the
Tempi;; of Aj)hrodite, the Queen of Love, and from the
open door a sweet savour of incense and a golden
blaze rushed fbrtli till thev were lost in th > silver of
the moonshine an I in thu salt smell of the sea. Thither

•\

■il

, t; ,■

»£« .

THE VISION or THE IVORLiyS DESIRE. 15

■ M

the Wanderer wmt slowly, for his limbs were swaying
with weariness, and he was half in a dream. Yet lie
hid himself cunningly in the sliadow of a long avenue
of myrtles, for he guessed that sea-robbers were keeping
revel in the forsaken shrine. But he heard no sound
of singing and no treail of dancing feet within the fane
of the Goddess of Love ; the sacred ph)t of the goddess
and her chapels were silent. He hearkened awhile, and
watched, till at last he took courage, drew near the
doors, and entered the holy place. But in the tall,
bronze braziers there were no fa^jgots burning, nor were
there torches lighted in the hands of the golden men
and maids, the images that stand within the fane of
Aphrodite. Yei, if he did not dream, nor take moon-
liglit for fire, the :emple was bathed in showers of gold
by a splendour of dame. None might see its centre nor
its fountain ; it sprang neither from the altar nor the
statue of the goddess, but was everywhere imminent,
a glory not of this world, a fire untended and unlit.
And the painted walls with the stories of the loves of
men and gods, ?ind the carven pillars and the beams,
and the roof of green, were bright with flaming fire !

At this the Wanderer was afraid, knowing that an
Immortal was at hand ; for the comings and the goings
of the gods were attended, as he had seen, by this
wonderful light of unearthly fire. So he bowed his
head, and hid his face as he sat by the altar in the
holiest of the holy shrine, and with his right hand he
grasped the horns of the altar. As he sat there,
perchance he woke, and perchance he slept. How-
ever it was, it seemed to hi in that soon there came a

THE WORLD'S DESIRE.

iTmnnuriiig nnti a whisjjorin*,' of tlie myrtle leaves and
liuirels, and a sound in the tops of the pines, and then
his face was fanned by a breath more cold than the
wind tliat wnkes the dawn. At ihe touch of this breath
tl>e Wanderer shuddered, and the hair on his flesh stood
up, so cold was the s*»"m,(^e wind.

There was silence ; and he heard a voice, and he
kiHJW that it was the voice of no mortal, but of a
goddess. For the speech of goddesses was not strange
in his ears; he knew the clarion cry of Ath«^ne, the
Qneen of Wisdom and of War; and the winning words
of Circe, the Daughter of the Sun. and the sweet .song
of Calypso's voice as she wove with her golden shuttle
at the loom. But now the words came sweeter than
the u.oaning of doves, more soft than sleep. So came
the golden voice, whether he woke or whether he
dreamed.

'Odysseus, thou knowest me not, nor am I thy lady
nor hast thou ever been my servant ! Where is she,
the Queen of the Air, Athene, and why comest ikon
here as a suppliant at the knees of the daughter of
Dione?'

He answered nothing, but he bowed his head in
deeper sorrow. . ' .

The voice spake again :

'Behold, thy house is desolate; thy hearth is cold.
The wild hare breeds on thy hearthstone, and the night-
bird roosts beneath thy roof-t ue. Thou hast neither
child nor wife nor native land, and slie hath forsaken
thee — thy Lady Athene. Many a time didst thou
sacrifice to her the thighs of kine and sheep, but didst

THE VISION Of THE WO A' ID'S /)i:s/A'A i?

thou over ^ive so niucli as ;i pair of (l')ves to me / H.ith
she loft thee, as the Dawn forssook Tithonus, berause
there are now threads of silver in the tiurknesa of thy
hair ? Is the wise goddess Hckie us a nymph of the
woodland or the wells? Doth she love a man only for
the bloom of his youth? Nay, I know not; but this
1 know, that on thee Odysseus, old age will soon be
hastening- -old age that is pitiless, and ruinous, an<l
weary, and weak— age that cometh on all men, and that
is hateful to the Gods. Therefore, ()dy."*seus, ere yet i>
be too late, I would bow even thee to my will, and holo
thee for my thrall. For I am slu^ who conquers i.A
things living : Gods and beasts and men. And hast
thou thought that thou only shalt escape Aphrodite ?
Thou that hast never loved as I would have men love;
thou that hast never obeyed me for an hour, nor ever
known the joy and the sorrow that are mine to give ?
For thou didst but endure the caresses of Circe, the
Daughter of the Sun, and thou ./ert aweary in the arms
of Calypso,- and the Sea King's daughter came never to
her longing. As ior her who is dead, thy dear wife
Penelope, thou di('st love her with a loyal heart, but
never with a heart of lire. Nay, she was but thy
companion, thy house- wife, and the mother of thy
child. She was mingled with all thy memories of the
land thou lovest, and so thou gavest her a little love.
But she is dead ; and thy child too is no more ; and
thy very country is as the ashes of a forsaken liearth
where once was a camp of men. What have all tliy
wars and "wanderings won for thee, all thy labours, and

all the adventures thou hast achieved ? For what

THE WOKLiyS DESIRE.

didst thou seek amon<( tlie living and the dead ? Thou
songlitest that which all men Heek — tiiuu aoughtest Thf.
World's Desire. They find it not, nor iuist thou found
it, Odys-'sous ; .ind thy friends are doiui ; tliy land is
dead ; nothing lives but Hope. But the life that lies
before thee is new, without a reniniiiit of the old days,
except for tlie bitterness of h)nging and reniiMuhrance.
Out of this new life, and the unborn hours, wilt thou
not give, what never before thou gavest, one hour to
me, to be my servant ? '

The voice, as it seemed, grew softer and ranv nearer,
till the Wanderer heard it whisper in his very ear, and
with the voice came a divine fiugrance. The l)reath of
her who spoke seemed to touch his neck ; the immortal
tresses of the Goddess were mingled with the dark curls
of his hair.

The voice spake again :

'Nay, Odysseus, didst thou not once give me one
little hour? Fear not, for thou shalt not see me at
this time, but lift thy head and look on The World's
Desire ! '

Then the Wanderer lifted his head, and he saw, as it
were in :. picture or in a mirror of bronze, the vision of
a girl. She was more than mortal tall, and though still
in the first flower of youth, and almost a child in years,
she seemed fair as a goddess, and so beautiful that
Aphrodite herself may perclianoe have envied this
loveliness. She was slim and gracious as a young shoot
of a palm tree, and her eyes Nvere fearless and innocent
as a child's. On her head she bore a shining um of
broLze, as if she were bringing water from the wells.

Tlir VISION OF THE WORLirS DESIRE. 19

and bolmid her wtis tlie foliage of a plane tnc. Then
the Wanderer knew htr, and saw litr once again oh ho
bad «t'en her, when in his boyliood ho 1 ad jourtioyed to
the iVnirt of her father, Kin^ Tyndareus. For, as he
entered Spartii, and came down the liill Taygotiis, and
as his chariot whiels Haslied thr«)Uj;h th«^ ford of
Eurotas, he had met her there on her way from the
river. Thei , in his youth, his eyes had -azed on the
loveliness of Helen, and his heart had l)eeii filhiil with
the desire of the fairest of women, and like rdl the
princes of Achaia he had sought iier haul in nmiriage.
TJut Helen was given to another man, to Munelaus,
Atreus' son, of an evil house, that the knees of many
might be loosened in death, and that thore might be
a sou<r in the ears of men in after time.

As he beheld the vision of young Helen, the
Wanderer too grew young again But as he gjv/eo
with the eves and loved with the first love of a boy, she
melted like a mist, a!id out of tiie mist came another
vision. He saw himself, disguised as a beggar, beaten
and bruised, yet seated in a long hall bright with gold,
while a woman bathed his feet, and anointed his liead
with oil. And tlie face of the woman was the face of
the maiden, and even more beautiful, but sad with grief
and with an ancient shame. Then he remembered how
once he had stolen into Troy town from the camp of
the Achaeans, and how he had crept in a beggar's rags
within the house of Priam to spy upon the Trojans, and
how Helen, the fairest of women, had bathtd him, aiii
anointed him with oil, and suffered him to go in peace,
all for the memory of the love that wi^s between thero

THE WORLDS DESIRE.

of old. As he gazed, that picture faded and melted in
the mist, and again he bowed his head, and kneeled by
the golden altar of the Goddess, crying :

'Where beneath the sunlight dwells the golden
Helen ? ' For now he had only one desire : to look on
Helen again before he died.

Then the voice of the Goddess seemed to whisper in
his ear ;

'Did I not say truth, Odysseus? Wast not thou
my servant for one hour, and did not Love save thee
in the city of the Trojans on that night when even
Wisdom was of no avail V

He answered : ' Yea, O Queen ! *

'Behold, then,' siid the voice, 'I would again have
mercy and be kind to thee, for if I aid thee not thou
hast no more life left among men. Home, and kindred,
and native land thou hast none; and, but for me, thou
must devour thine own heart and be 1 niely till thou
die.st. Therefore I breatlie into thy heart a sweet forget-
fulness of everv sorrow, and I breathe love into thee for
her who was thy first love in the beginning of thy days.

For Helen is living yet upon the earth. And I
will send thee on the quest of Helen, and thou shalt
again take joy in war and wandering. Thou shalt
find her in a strange land, among a strange people, in a
strife of gods and men ; and the wisest and bravest of
men shall sleep at last in the arras ot the fairest of
. women. But learn this, Odysseus ; thou must set thy
heart on no other woman, but only on Helen.

* And I give thee a sign to know her by in a land of
maiiic, and among women that '.eal in sorceries.

iiWt^

THE VISION OF THE WORLD'S DESIRE. 21

1;
■J.

I
I

' On the lirexist of IhUni a jewi'l shines, a great star-
dom, the gift I gave her 07h her wedding-night when she
mas Wide to MenehiiLs. From that stone fall red drops
like blood, arid thy drip on her vestment, and there vanish,
and do not stain it.

'By tiie Star of Love shalt thou know her; by tne
star shalt tliou swear to her; and if thou knowest ii(»t
the portent of the Bleeding Star, or if tiiou brenkost
that oath, never in this life, Odysseus, shalt thou win
the L-oIden Helen ! And thine own death shall come
from the water — the swiftest dcatli — that the saying of
the (lead prophet may be fulfilled. Yet first shalt thou
he in the arms of the yolden Helen.'

The Wanderer ansv ered :

' Queen, how may this be, for I am alone on a sea-
girt isle, and I have no ship and no companions to
s}ieed me over the great gulf of the sea?'

Tht'n tlie voice answered ;

* Fear not ! the gods can bring to pass e en greater
things than these. Go from my house, and lie down to
sleep in my holy ground, within the noise of tin; wash
of the waves. There sleep, and take thy rest ' Tliy
strength shall conie back to thee, and before the setting
of the new sun thou siialt be sailinij: on the path to The
World's Desire. But first drink from the chalice on
my altar. Fare thee well ! '

The voice died into silence, like the dyi;.g of music.
The Wanderer awoke and lifted his head, but the liglit
h m1 faded, and the temple was gray in the first waking
of the dawn. Y(!t thor(\ on the a1ta,r where no cu]) had
been, stood a <!eep chalice of goh', full of red wine to

TflE WORLirs DESIRE.

the brim. This the Wanderer lifted and draine^-a
drnught of Nepenthe, the magic cup tliat puts trouble
out of mind. As ho drank, a wave of sweet hope went
over his heart, and buried far below it the sorrow of
remembrance, and the trouble of tlio past, and the
longing desire for loves that were no more.

With a light step he went forth like a younger man,
taking the two si)ears :n his hand, an.! the bow upon
his back, and he lay down beneatli a great rock that
looked toward the deep, and theie he slept. *

If
hi
%

THE SLAYING OJ^ THE SWONIANS. 2$

CHAPTER III.

THE SLAYING OF THE SIDONIANS.

Morning broke in the East. A new day dawned
upon the silent sea, and on the world of light and sound.
The sunrise topped the hill at last, and fell upon the
golden raiment of the Wanderer where he slept, making
it blaze like living fire. As the sun touched him, the
prow of a black ship stole swiftly round the headland,
for the oarsmen drove her well with the oa^s. Any
man who saw her would have known her to be a vessel
of the merchants of Sidon — the most cunning people
and the greediest of gain — for on her prow were two
big-headed shapes of dwarfs, with gaping mouths and
knotted limbs. Such gods as those were worshipped by
the Sidonians. She was now returning from Albion,
an isle beyond the pillars of Heracles and the gates of
the great sea, where much store of tin is found ; and
she had rich merchandise on board. On the half-deck
beside the steersman M'as the captain, a thin, keen-eyed
sailor, who looked shoreward and saw the sun blaze on
the golden armour of the Wanderer. They were so far
off that he could not see clearly what it was that
glittered yellow, but ,ill that glittered yellow was a lure

THE WORLD'S DESIRE.

for him, and gold dn^w him on as iron draws the hands
of heroes So he bade the hehasman 8teer straight in,
for the sea was deep below the nxk, and there they all
saw a man lying asleep in gijlr'eu armour. They whis-
pered together, laughing silently, and then sprang ashore,
taking with them a rope of twisted ox-hide, a hawser of
the ship, and a strong cable of byblus, the papyrus
plant. Oi. these ropes they cast a loop and a running
knot, a lasso for throwing, so tliat they might capture
<he man in safety from a distance. With these in their
hands they crept up the cliff, for their puipose was to
noose the man in g(^lden armour, and drag him on
board their vessel, and carry him to the mouth of the
river of Egypt, and there sell him for a slave to the King.
For the Sidonians, wlio were greedy of everything, loved
nothing better t.lum to catch free men and women, who
might be purchased, by niere force or guile, and then be
sold again for gold and silver and cattle. Many kings'
sons had thus been captured by them, and had seen the
day of slavery in Babylon, or Tyre, (.)r Egyptian Thebes,
and had died sadly, tar from the Argive land.
. So the Sidonians went round warily, and, creeping in
silence over the short grass and thyme towards the
Wanderer, were soon as near him as a child could throw
a stone. Like shepherds who seek to net a sleeping
lion, they came cunningly; yet not so cunningly but
that the Wanderer heard them through his drean)s, and
turned and sat up, looking around him half awake.
But as he woke the noose fell about his neck and ovi^r
his arms, and they drew it hard, and threw him on his
back. Before they coukl touch him he was on his feet

■ f

THE SLAYING OF THE SIDOXIAXS 25

atmin, crying his war-cry terribly, the cry that shook
the towers of IHiim, and he rushed upon them, clutch-
ing^ at his sword hilt. The men who were nearest him
and had hold (j1' the rope let it fail from their hands
and fled, i/.it the others swung behind him, and dragged
with ail their force. If his arms had been free so that
he might draw his sword, it wculd have gone ill with
them, many as they were, for the Sidonians have no
stomach for sword blades ; but his arms were held in
the noose. Yet they did not easily master him ; but,
as those who had fied came back, and they all laid
hands on the rope together, they overpowered him by
main force at last, and hauled him, step by step, till he
stumbled on a rock and fell. Tlum they rushed at him,
and threw themselves all upon his body, and bound
him with ropes in cunning sailor knots. But the booty
was dearly won, and they did not all return alive ; for
he crushed one man with his knees till the breath left
him, and the thigh ot another he broke with a, blow of
his foot.

But at last his strength was spent, and they had him
like a bird in a suare, so, by might and main, they
bore him to their ship, and threw him down on the
fore-deck of tiie vessel. There they mocked him, though
thev wore half afraid ; for even now he was terrible.
Then they hauled up the sail again and sat down to the
oars. The wind blew fair for the mouth of the Nile
and the slave-market of Egypt. The wind was I'aii-,
and their hearts were light, for they had been among
the hrst of their people to deal with the wild tribes of
the island Albion, and had Ixnight tm and gold for

THE WOFH.aS DESIRE.

African soa sliella and nide glass beads from Egypt.
An<l now, near the very end of their adventure, they
had caught a man whose armour and whose body were
woiih a kin.>'M ransom. It was a lucky voyage, they
said, and the wind was fair !

The rest of the journey was long, but in well-known
waters. They passed by Cephalonia and the rook of
./Egilips, and wooded Zacynthus, and Sam^, and of all
those isles he was the lord, whom they were now selling
into captivity. But he lay still, breathing heavily, and
he stirred but once — that was when they neared
Zacvnthus, Then he strained his head round with a
mighty strain, and he saw the sun go down upon the
heights of rocky .Tthacji, for that last time of all.

So the swift ship ran along the coast, slipping by
forgotten towns. Past the Echinean isles, and the
Elian sliore, and pleasant Eirene they sped, and it was
dusk ere they reached Dorion. Deep night had fallen
when they ran by Pylos; and the light of the fires in
the hall of Pisistratus, the son of Nestor the Old, shone
out across the sandy sea-coast and the sea.. But when
they were come near Ma'iea, the southernmost point of
land, where two seas meet, there the storm snatched
them, and drove them ever southwards, beyond Crete,
towards the mouth of the Nile. They scud < led long
before the storm-wind, losim? their reckoning, and rush-
ing by island temples that showed like ghosts through
the mist, and past havens whicli tliey could not win.
On they fled, and the men would gladly have lightened
the ship by casting the cargo overboard ; but the
captain watched the hatches with a sword and two

THE SLAYING OF THE SIDONIANS. 27

bronze-tipped spears in liis hand. He would sink or
swim with tlie ship; he wouhi go down wiih his
treasure, or reach Sidon, the City of Flowers, and build a
white ]lOU!^e among the palms by the waters of Bostren,
and never try the sea again.

80 he swore ; and he would not let them cast the
Wanderer overboard, as they desired, because he had
brought bad luck. ' He shall bring a good price in
Tanis,' cried the captain And at last the storm
abated, and the Sidoniaus took heart, and were glad
like men escaped from death ; so they sacrificed and
poured forth wine before the dwarf-gods on the prow of
their vessel, and burned incense on their little altar.
In their mirth, and to mock the Wanderer, they hung
his sword and his shield against the mast, and his
(juiver and his bow they arrayed in the fashion of a
trophy ; and they mocked him, believing that he knew
no v.ord of their speech. But he knew it well, as he
knew the speech of the people of Egypt ; for he had
seen the cities of many men, and had spoken with
captains and mercenaries from many a land in the
great wars.

The Sidonians, however, jibed and spoke freely before
him, saying how they were bound for the rich city of
Tanis, on the banks c. the River of Egypt, and how the
captain was minded tc pay his toll to Pharaoh with the
body and the armour of the Wanderer. That he might
seem the comelier, and a gift more fit for a king, the
sailors slackened his bonds a little, and brou-ht him
dried iiuat and wine, and he ate till his strentrth
returned to him. Then he entreated them by signs to

THE IVORLjyS DESIRR.

I 1

loosen tlio r'oni tliat bound his U*gs ; for indo<"l liis
limbs \V(!re (load throuffli the strength of the boinls.
and liis aiuioiir was oatii.'g into l)i>; tiesh. At his prayer
they took sonie ]);ty of him and loosened his bonds
again, and he lay upon his baciv, mt)ving his legs to and
fro till his strength came bai^k.

So they sailed soutliward ever, through smooth
waters and past the islands that lie like vvater- lilies in
the midland sea. Many a strange sight they saw :
vessels bearing slaves, whose sighing might be hoard
above the sighing of wind and vvater — young men and
maidens of Ionia and Aohaia, stolen \y\ sluve-ti'aders
into bondage; now they would touch at the white
havens of a peaceful city ; and again they wmild watch
a smoke on the sea-line all day, rising black into the
heavens; but by nightfall the smoke would change to
a great roaring fire from the beacons of a beleaguered
island town ; the fire would blaze on the masts of
the ships of the besiegers, and show blood -red on
their sails, and glitter on the gilded shields that lined
the bulwarks of the shi])s. But the Sidonians sped
on till, one night, they anchored off a little isle that
lies over against the mouth of the Nile. Beneath this
isle they moored the ship, and slept, most of them,
ashore.

Then the Wanderer began to plot a way to escape,
though the enterprise seemed desperate enough. He
was lying in the darkness of the hold, sleepless and
sore with his bonds, wluJe hih guard watched under an
awning in the moonlight on the deck. They dreamed
so little of his escaping that they visited him only by

THE SLAYliVG OF THE SIDOmAiVS. 29

wfttclies, now and a^ain ; and, as it chant'cci, the man
wlioae turn it was to see tliat all was will fell asleep
Many a thought went through the prisoner's mind, and
now it seemed to him that the visi(m of the Goddess
was only a vision of sleep, which came, as they said,
thr(>n^d^ the false Gates of Ivory, and not through the
dates of Horn, So he was to live in s.avery after all, a
king no longer, hut a captive, toiling in the Egyptian
mines of Sinai, or a soldier at, a palace gate, till he died.
Thus he hrooded, till out of the stillness came a thin,
faint, thrilling sound from the bow that hung against
the mast over hi^ head, the bow that he never thought
to string again. There was a noise of a singing of the
bow and of tl:e string and the wordless song shaped
itself thus in the heart of the Wanderer:

Lo ! the hour is nigh

And tlie time lo smite,
When tlie (be ishall lly

Fmnn tl;e arrow's fi'i^ht !
Let the bronze bite tleep 1

Let the war-ljirds fly
T''j)on them that sleep

And are ripe to die !
I Iirill and low

Do the gray sliafts sing
The Song of the Bow,

The sound of the string !

Then the low music died into the silence, and the
Wanderer knew that the next sun would not set on the
day of slavery, and that his revenge was near His
bonds would be no barriei- to his vengoanc<^ ; tl ey would
break hke burnt tow, he knew, in the hie of liis anger.

THE WORLD'S DESIRE.

Long since, in hia old days of wamlering, Calyf>so, his
love, had tausht him in tlie summer leisure of lier sea-
girt isle how to tie knots that no man eould untie, an<l
to undo all the knots that men can bind. He reniem-
bercil this lesson in the night wlien the bow siing of war.
So he thought no more of ah'eping, but cunningly and
swiftly unknotted all the cords and the bonds which
boimd him to a bar of iron in the hold. He might
have escaped now, perhaps, if he had stolen on deck
without waking the guaids, dived thence and swam
untler water towards the island, where hi; might have
hidden himself in the bush. But he desired revenue
no less than freedom, and had set his heart on coming
in a ship of his own, and with all the gn^at treasure of
the Sidotdans, before the Egyptian King.

With this m his mind, he did not throw off the cords,
but let them lie on his arns and legs and about his
body, ;is if they were still tied fast. But he fought
against sleep, lest in moving when he woke he might
reveal the trick, and be bound again. So he lay and
waited, and in the morning the sailors came on board,
and mocked at him again. In his mirth one of the
men took a dish of meat and of lentils, and set it
a little out of the Wanderer's reach as he lay bound,
and said in the Phoenician tongue ;

' Mighty lord, art thou some god of Javan' (for so
the Sidonians called the Achseans), ' and wilt thou
deign to taste (»ur sa:rifice ? Is not the savour sweet in
the nostrils of my lord ? Why will he not put forth his
hand to touch our offering?'

Then thy heart of Odysseus muttered sullenly within

rifE SLAYING OF THE SI DON! A NS. 31

kou

liis

lin

nim, in wrath at the in.solence of the man. But he
constrained himself and smiled, and said :

' Wilt thou not bring the me^s a very little nearer,
my frionil that I may smell tho sweet ir.'^ense of the

sacrifice ? '

Tliey were amaz»!d when they heard him .^pt:nk in
their own t^»n;,aie ; but lu^ who hcM the dish brought it
nearer, like a man that angers a dog, now olVering ihe
meat, and now taking it away.

I So soon as the n.-an was within reach, the Wanderer
sprang out, the loosened bonds falling at his feet, and
smote the sailor benej.th the ear with his clenched fist.
The blow was so fierco, for all his anger went into it,
that it crushed the bone, and drove tho man against
the mast of tlie ship so that the strong mast shook
Where he fell, t'.ere he lay, his feet kicking the floor of
the hold in his death-{»ain.

Then the Wanderer snatched from the mast liis bow
and his short swor^l, slung the cjuiver about his
sliouMers, and ran on to the raised decking of the
prow.

The bulwiirks of the deck were high, and the vessel
was narrow, }',nd before the sailors could stir for amaze-
ment the Wanderer had taken his stand behind the
little altar and the dwarf-gods. Here he stood with an
arrow on the striug, j^nd the bow drawn to his ear, look-
ing about him t'^rribly.

Now panic and dread cairie on the Sidonians when
they saw him standing thus, and one of the sailors
cried :

' Alas ! w liat god have we taken and bound ? Our

:?2

THE UVR/./rS DESIRE.

flliip may not contain bim. Surrly ho is Hcsof Mikjil,
tlie God of tho How, whom thoy of Javan call Apollo.
Nay, let us hmd him on tho islo and como not to blows
with him, but ontroat hi« m<TC}', lest ho rouse tlie
wavoa and tho winds against us.'

But the ca]>laiti of the ship of the Sidonians
cried:

' Not so, yo knaves ! Have at him, for lie ia no god,
but a mortal man ; and his armour is worth many a
yoke of oxen ! '

Then lie ])ade some of tliem cliinb the deckinj; at tho
further end of th(> sldp, and throw spenrsathirn thence;
an<l he called others to bring up one of tho long spears ,
and charge him with that. Now these were huge
pikes, that w(ne wielded by five or six men at once,
and no armour could withstand them ; tliey were used
in the fights to drive back boarders, and to ward off
attacks on ships which were beached on shore in the
sieges of towns.

The men whom the captain appoiiited little liked the
task, for the long spears were laid on tressels along tho
bulwfirks, and to reach them and unship them it was
needful to come witliirt ra.nge of the bow. But tiie
sailors on the further tleck threw all their spears at
once, while five men leaped on the deck where the
Wanderer stood. He loosed tlie bowstring and the
shaft sped on its way ; again he drew and loosed, and
now two of them had fallen beneath his arrows, and oi)e
was struck by a chance bh)w from a spear thn/wn from
the fuither deck, and the other two leaped back into
the hold.

THE SIAYING OF TlfE snx)M.\NS. 33

Then tlio Wiiiitlurer shouti'd from \\\k\ high deckiug
of the prow in the speech of the Siilonians :

' Yu (logs, ye have stiiU^d on your latest sen-fjiiiug,
iiiid never again shall ye bring the hour of slavery on
any man.'

So he crieil, and the sailors gathered together in tlje
"fluid, and took counsel how they should deal witli him.
But meanwhile the bow was not silent, and of tlioae on
the hinder deck who were casting spears, one <ln)pped
and the others quickly fled to their fellows below, for
on the deck they had no cover.

The sun was now well risen, and shone on the
Wanderer's golden mail, as he stood alone on tlie
decking, with his bow drawn. The sun shone, there
was silence, the ship swung to her anchor ; and still he
waited, looking down, his arrow pointing at the level of
the deck to shoot at the first head which rose above the
phuiking. Suddenly there came a rush of men on to
the further decking, and certain of them tore the
shields that lined the bulwarks from then- pins, and
threw them down to those who were Ijelow, while others
cast a shower of spears at the Wanderer. Some of the
spears he avoided ; others leaped back from his mail ;
others stood fast in the altar and in the bodies of the
dwarf-gotls; while he answered with an arrow that did
not miss its aim. But his eyes were always watching
most keenly the hatches nearest him, whence a gang-
way ran down to the lower part of the ship, where the
oarsmen sat ; for only thence could they make a rush
on him. As he watched and drew an arrow from the

quiver on his shoulder, lie felt, as it were, a shadov^

THE WORlJyS DESIRE.

I I

': i

between him anci the deck. He glanced up quickly,
and there, on the yard above his head, a man, who had
climbed the mast from behind, was creeping down
to drop on him from above. Then the Wanderer
snatched a short spear and cast it at the man. The
spear sped qiiicker than a thought, and pinned his two
hands to the yard so that he hung there helpless,
shrieking to his friends. But the arrows of the Wan-
derer kept raining on the meo who stood on the further
deck, and presently some of them, too, leaped down in
terror, crying that he was a god and not a man, while
olhej's threw themselves into the sea, and swam for the
isiand.

Then the Wanderer himself waited no longer, seeing
them all amazed, but he drew his sword and leaped
d.>wn amrng them with a cry like a sea-eagle swooping
'^n seaiiiews in the crevice of a rock. To right and left
iio smote with the short sword, making a havoc and
spa-ing none, for the sword ravened in his hand. And
some fell over the be. lies and oars, but such of the
sailors as could flee rushed up the gangway into the
further deck, and thence sprang overboard, while those
who had not the luck to flee fell where they stood, and
scarcely otruck a blow. Only the captain of the ship,
knowing that all was lo^t, turned and threw a spear in
the Wanderer'M face. But he watched the flash of the
bronze and sti^oped his head, so that the spear struck
only the golden helm and pierced it through, but
scarcely grazed his head. Now the Wanderer sprang
on the Sidouian captain, and smote him with the flat
of his sword so that he fell senseless on the deck, and

V*v'

THE SI. A YING OF THE SIDONIANS. 35

then he hound him hand and foot with cords as he
himself had been bound, and made him fast to the iron
bar in the he'd. Next he gathered up the dead in his
mighty arms, and set them against the bulwarks of the
fore-deck — harvesting the fruits of War. Above the
deck the man who had crept along the yard was
hanging by his two hands which the spear had pinned
together to the yard.

. ' Art thou there, friend ? * cried the Wanderer,
mocking liim. 'Hast thou chosen to stay with me
rather than go with thy friends, or seek new service ?
Nay, then as thou art so staunch, abide there and keep
a good look-out for the river mouth and the market
where thou shalt sell me for a great price.' So he
spoke, but the man was already dead of pain and fear.
Then the Wanderer unbuckled his golden armour,
which clanged upon the deck, and drew fresh water
from the hold to cleanse himself, for .le was stained like
a lion that has devoured an ox. Next, with a golden
comb he combed hi.s long dark curls, and he gathered his
arrows out of the bodies of the dead, and out of the
thwarts and the sides of the ship, cleansed them, and
laid them back in the quiver. When all this was ended
he put oil his armour again ; but strong as he was, he
could not tear the spear from the helm without breaking
the gold; so he snapped the shan't and put on the
helmet with the point of the javelin still fixed firm in
the crest, as B^ate would have it so, and this was the
beginning of his sorrows. Next he ate meat and bread,
and drank wine, and pounid forth some of the wine
before his gods. Lastly he dragged up the heavy stone

36 THE WORLD'S DESIRE.

with which the ship was moorerl, a stone heavier far,
they say., than two other men could lift. He took the'
tiller in his hand ; the steady north wind, the Etesian
wind, kept blowing in the sails, and he sUusered straight
.southward for the mouths of the Nile.

**
,|-i

THE BLOOD-RED SEA.

ar,
an

CHAPTER IV.

THE BLOOD-RED SEA.

A HARD figlit it had been and a long, and the
Wanderer was weary. He took the tiller of the ship in
his hand, and steered for the South and for the noonday
sun, which was now at his highest in the heavens. But
suddenly the bright light of the sky was darkened and
the air was filled with the rush, and the murmur, and
the winnowing of innumerable wings. It was as if all
the birds that have their homes and seek their food in
the great salt marsh of Cayster had risen from the
South and had flown over sea in one hour, for the
liuaven was darkened with their flight, and loud with
the call of cranes and the whistling cry of the wild
ducks, So dark was the thick mass of flying fowl, that
a flight of swans shone snowy against the black cloud
of their wings. At the view of them the Wanderer
cauglit his bow eagerly into his hand and set an arrow
on tlie string, and, taking a careful aim at the white
wedge of birds, he shot a wild swan through the breast
as it swept high over the mast. Then, with all the
8])eed of its rush, the wild white swan flashed down
like lightning into the sea behind the shi|). ThQ

TJfE WORLD'S DESIRE.

Wanderer watched its fall, when, !<> ! the water where
the dead swan fell splaslied up as red as blood and all
afoam ! The long silver wings and snowy plumage
floated on the surface Hecked with blood-red stains,
and the Wanderer marvelled as he bent over the
bulwarks and gazed steadily upon the sea. Then he
saw that the wide sea round the ship was covered, as
far as the eye could reach, as it wen^ with a blood-red
scum. Hither find thither the red stain was tossed like
foam, yet beneath, whore the deep wave divided, the
Wanderer saw that tlie streams of the sea were gray
and green below the crimson dye. As he watched he
saw, too, that the red froth was driftt'd always onward
from the South and from the mouth of the River of
Egypt, for behind the wake of the shi]) it was most red
of all, though he had not marked it while the battle
raged. But in front the colour grew thin, as if the stain
that the river washed down was all but spent. In his
heart the Wanderer thought, as any man must have
deemed, that on the banks of the River of E.^ypt there
had been some battle of great nations, and that the
War God had raged furiously, wherefore the holy river

• as it ran forth stained all the sac^red sea. Where war
was, there was his home, no other home had he now,
and all the more eagerly he steered right on to see

. what the Gods wouhi send him. The flight of birds
W8.S over and past ; it was two hours after noon, the
light was high in the heaven, wlien, as he gazed, another
shadow fell on liim, for the sun in mid-heaven grew
small, and red as blood. Slowly a mist rose up over it
from the South, a mist that was thin but as black as

is.

■'OT

■IT
}i

THE BLOOD- RE I) SEA.

^.!a

night. Beyond, to tlie soutliward, tlu^r<^ was a bank of
cloud like a mountain wall, stce]), and polished, and
black, tipped along the ragged crest with fire, and
opening ever and again witlj flashes of intolerable
splendour, while the bases v/ere scrawled over with
lightning like a written scroll. IS ever had the
Wanderer in all his voyaging on the sea and on the
great River Oceanus that girdles the earth and severs
the dead fronri the living men — never bad be beheld
such a darkn(;ss. Presently he came as it were within
the jaws of it, dark as a v>roif s moutb, so dark that be
nii^'ht not see the corpses on the deck, nor the mast,
nor the dead man swinging from tbe yard, nor the
captain of the Phoenicians who groaned aloud below,
praying to his gods. But in tbe wake of tbe sbip there
was one break of clear blue sky on the borizun, in which
the little isle wbere he had slain tbe Sidonians miuht
be discerned far oli", as bright and wbite as ivory.

Now, though he knew it not, the gates of his own
workl were closing behind tbe Wanderer for ever. To
the Nortli, whence he earue, lay the clear sky, and the
sunny capes and isles, and the airy mountains of the
Aigive lands, white with the temples of familiar Gods.
But in face of him, to tbe South, wbitber he went, was
a cloud of darkness and a land of d.irkoess itself. 1'here
were things to befall more marvellous than are told in
any tale; there was to be a war of tbe peoples, and of
the Gods, the Tnie Gods and tbe P'alse, and there he
should find the last embraces of Love, the False Luve
and the True.

Foreboding somewhat of the perils that lay in front,

THE WORLD'S DESIRE.

the Wanderer was tempted to shift his course and sail
back to the sunliglit. But he was one that had never
turned his hand from the plough, nor his foot from the
path, and he thought that now his path was fore-
ordained. So he lashed the tiller with a rope, and
groped his way with his hands along the deck till he
reached the altar of the dwarf-gods, where the embers
of the sacrifice still were glowing faintly. Then witli
his sworci he cut some spear-shafts and broken arrows
into white chips, and with them he filled a little brazier,
and taking the seed of fire from the altar set light to it
from beneath. Presently the wood blazed up through
the noonday night, and the fire flickered and flared on
the faces of the dead men that lay about the deck,
rolling to larboard and to starboard, as the vessel
lurched, and the fiame shone red on the golden armour
of the Wanderer.

Of all his voyages this was the strangest sea-faring, he
cruising alone, with a company of the dead, deep into
a darkness without measure or bound, to a land that
might not be descried. Strange gusts of sudden wind
blew him hither and thither. The breeze would rise*
in a moment from any quarter, and die as suddenly as
it rose, and another wind would chase it over the
chopping seas. He knew not if he sailed South or
North, he knew not how time passed, for there was no
sight of the sun. It was night without a dawn. Yet
his heart was glad, as if he had been a boy again, for
the old sorrows vere forgotten, so potent was the
draught of the chalice of the Goddess, and so keen was
the delight of battle.

THE BLOOD-RED SEA.

'Endure, my liearl, he cried, as often he had cried
befnre, 'a worse thing than this thou hast endured/
and lie caudit up a lyre of the dead Sidoniana, and

sang :-

Though the hght of the sun be hidden.

Though his race be run,
Though we sail in a Hea forbidden

To the golden sun ;
Though we wHiider alone, unknowing, —

Oh, hoart of mine, —
The path of the strange sea-going, •

On the blootl-red brine ;
Yet endure ! We shall not be .shaken

By I'liiiigs wurtie tiian these ;
We have scaped, when our i'rientls were taken,

On the unbailed seas ;
Worse deaths have we faced ^rid tied from, '

In the Cyclops' den,
When the floor of his cavii ran red from

The blood of men ;
Worse griels have wt- known undaunted,

Worse fates liave fled ;
When the [sle that our long love haunted

Lay waste and dead I

So he was chanting when he descried, faint and far
off, a red glow cast u\) along the darkness like sui'set
on the sky of the under-world. For this hght he
steered, and soon he saw two tall pillars of flame blazing
beside each other, vvitli a narrow space of night between
them. He helmed the ship towards these, and when
he came near them tliey were like two mighty
mountains of wood burning far into heaven, and each
was lofty as tlie pyre that blazes over mon slain in
some red war, and each pile roared and flared above
^ steep crag of smooth black basalt, and between

THE WORLnS DESIRE,

!ii

tlic burning mounds of tire lay the flame-flecked water
of a liitvou.

The sliip neanid the haven and the Wanderer saw,
movin^f like fireflies through the night, the lanterns in
the prows of boats, and from one of the boats a sailor
hailed him in the s[ieech of the people of Egypt, asking
liim if he desired a pilot.

' Yea,' lie sliouted. The boat drew near, and the
pilot came aboard, a torch in his hand ; but when his
eyes fell on the dead men in tlie s)ii{», and the horror
haiiuiiig from the ynnl, and the captain bound to the
iron bar, and above all, on the golden armour of the
hero, and on tlie si)ear-point fast in his helm, and on
his terrible face, he shrank back in dread, as if the God
Osiris himself, in the Ship of Death, had reached the
haibour. Kut the Wanderer bade him have no fenr,
telling him that he came with nuich wealth and with
a great gift for the Piiaraoh. The pilot, therefore,
plucked up heart, and took the helm, and between the
two great hills of blazing fire the vessel glided into the
smooth waters of the River of Kgypt, the flames glitter-
ing on the Wanderer's mail as he stood by the mast
and chanted the Song of the Bow.

Then, by the counsel of the pilot, the vessel was
steered up the river towards the Temple of Heracles in
Tmius, where there is a sanctuary for strangers, and
where no man may harm them. But first, the dead
Sidonians were cast ovc^rboard into the great river, for
the dead bodies of men are an abomination to the
Egyptians. And as each body struck the water the
Wau<lerer saw a hateful sight, for the .".ce of the river

v:.\

THE BLOOn-RED SEA.

the

was lashed into t'onrn by the sudden leafting and rushing
of huge four li'utcd rish, or so the Wanderer (h't'iiied
them. Th(! soun(l of the heavy plungincr of the great
water-heiists, as they darted forth on the prey, amitiug
at each other witli their tails, and tiie gnashing of their
jaws when they bit too eagerly, and only harmed the
air, and the leap of a greedy sh^irp snout from the
waves, even before the dead man cast from the ship
had quite touched the water — these things were horrible
to see and hi.ar through the blackness and by the fire-
light. A River of Death it seemed, haunted by the
horrors that are said to prey upon the souls and bodies
of the Dead. For the first time the heart of the
Wanderer died within him, at the horror of the darkness
and of this dread river and of the water-beasts that
dwelt within it. Then he remembered how the birds
had fled in terror from this place, and he bethought
hiiu of the blood-red sea.

Wh'-n the dead men were all cast overboard and the
river was once more still, the Wanderer spoke, sick at
heart, and inquired of the pilot why the sea liad run so
red, and whether war was in the land, and why there
was nijfht over all tliat countrv. The fellow answered
that there was no war, but peace, yet the laud was
strangely plagued with frogs and locusts and lice in
all tlieir coasts, the sacred River Sihor running red for
three whole days, and now, at last, for this the third
day, darkness over all the world. But as to the cause
of these curses the pilot knew nothing, being a plain
man. Only the story went among the people th .1 ilie
Gods were angry with Khern ' \\< liioy call Eg} [it,, which

THE n'OR/jyS DES/RE.

iii<lr«Ml was easy to soo, for tlioso tilings could come
only innn the Gods. But why they were angered the
pilot knew not, still it was commonly thought that
tlie Divine Hathor, the Goddess of Love, was wrath
because of the worship given in Tanis to one they
called The Strange Hathor, a goddess or a woman
of wonderful beauty, whose temple was in Tanis. Con-
cerning her the pilot said that many years ago, some
tldrty years, she had Hrst appeared in the country,
coming none knew whence, and had been woi shipped
in Tanis, and had again departed as mysteriously
as she came. But now she had once more chosen to
appear visible to men, strangely, and to dwell in her
temple; and the men who behold her could do nothing
but worship her for her beauty. Whether she was
a mortal woman or a goddess the pilot did not know,
only he thought that she who dwells in Atarhechis,
Hathor of Khem, the Queen of Love, was angry with
the strange Hathor, and hail sent the darkness and
the plagues to punish them who worshipped her. The
people of the seaboard also murmured that it would be
well to pray the Strange Hathor to depart out of their
coasts, if she were a godde?s ; and if she were a
woman to stone her vvith stones. But the people of
Tanis vowed that they would rather die, one and all,
than do aught but adore the incomparable beauty of
their strange Goddess. Otliers again, held that two
wizards, leaders of certain slaves of a strange race,
wanderers from the desert, settled in Tanis, whom
they called the Apui a, cansed all these sorrows by art-
ii.agic. As if, forsooth, said the pilot, those barbarian

THE BLOOD- RED SEA.

slaves were more fowerful than all the priests of Egypt.
But for hi? part, the pilot knew nothing, only that if
the Divine Hathor were angry with the people of Tunis
it was hard that she must plague all the land of Kheni,
80 the pilot murmured, and his tale was none of the
shortest ; but even as he spoke the darkness gn^w less
dark and the cloud lifted a little so that the shores of the
river might be seen in a green light like the light of
Hades, and presently the night was rolled up like a veil,
and it was living noonday in the land of Khem. Then
all the noise of life broke forth in one moment, the kine
lowing, the wind swaying the feathery palms, the fish
splashing in the stream, men crying to each other from
the river banks, and the voice of multitudes of people in
every red temple praising Ra, their great God, whose
dwelling is the sun. The Wanderer, too, praised his
own Gods, and gave thanks to Apollo, and to Helios
Hyperion, and to Aphrodite. And in the end the pilot
brought the ship to the quay of a great city, and there
a crew of oarsmen wns hired, and they sped rejoicing
in the sunlight, through a canal dug by the hands of
men, to Tanis and the Sanctuary of Heracles, the Safety
of Strangers. There the ship was moored, thwHR the
Wanderer rested, having a good welcome ^ the
shaven priests of the temple.

THE WORLD' :^ DESIRE,

CHAPTER V.

MEUIAMIJN THE QUKKN.

STKi

Hies fast. It

not lonji before th*

tANOE ne

Pliaraoh, who tlien was with liis Cuart in Taiiis, the
newly rebuilded city, heard how there had come to
Khera a man like a god, wearing golden armour, and
cruising alone in a ship of the dead. In these years the
white barbarians of the sea and of the isles were wont
to land in Egypt, to ravage the fields, carry women
captive, and fly again in their ships. But not one of
them had dared to sail in the armour of the Aquuiusha,
as the Egyptians named the Achteans, right up the
river to the city of Pharaoh. The King, therefore, was
amazed at the story, and when he heard that the
stranger had taken sanctuary in the Temple of
Heracles, he sent instantly for his chief counsellor.
This was his Master Builder, who bore a high title in
the land, an ancient priest named Rei. He had served
through the long reign of the King's father, the divine
Br^neses the Second, and he was beloved both of
\'> iTieptah and of Meriamun his Queen. Him the
i>':i?;ig cViarged to visit the Sanctuary and bring the
stranger before him. So Rei called for his mule, and
rode down to the Temple of Heracles beyond the wails.

MERIAMUN THE QUEEN.

When Rei »'an»o tliitlujr, a prit^st went before him and
led liim to the chamber where the warrior chanced to
be eating the lily bread of the lantl, and drinking the
wine of the Delta. He rose as Rei entered, and he wa.H
still clad in his golden armour, for as yet he had not
any change of raiment. Beside him, on a bronze
tri})oil, lay his helmet, the Achasan helmet, with its two
horns and with the bronze spear-point still fast in the

gold.

The eyes of Rei the Priest fell on the helmet, and he
grazed so strangely at it that he scarcely heard the
Wanderer's salutation. At length he answered courte-
oiislv, but always his eyes wandered back to the broken
spear-point.

'Is this thine, my son?' he asked, taking it in his
hand, while his voice trembled.

'It is my own,' said the Wanderer, 'though the
spear-hi-ad in it was lent me of late, in return for
arrows not a few and certain sword -strokes,' and he
finniled.

The ancient priest bade the Temple servants retire,
and as they went they heard him murmuring a prayer.
'The Dead spoke truth,' he nmttered, still gazing
from tlie helmet in his hand to the Wanderer ; ' ay, the
Dead speak seldom, but they never lie.'

' My son, thou hast eaten and drunk; then said Rei
the Priest and Master Builder, 'and may an ohl man
ask whence thou camest, wl ore is thy native city, and
who are thy parents ? '

'I come from Alybas,' answered the Wanderer, for
his own name was too wiflely known, and he loved an

».,

THE WORLD'S DEFlRE.

artful tale. ' I come from Alyba- ; I am the son of
Apheidas, son of Polypemon, and my owu name is
Eperitus.'

'And wherefore comest thou here alone in a slilp
of dead men, and with more treasure than a king's
ransom ? *

* It was men of Sidon who laboured and died for a'l
tliat cargo,' said the Wanderer; 'they voyagt.'d iwv toi'
it, and toiled hard, but tliey lost it in an h.our. Foi
they were not content with what tliey had, but iim !(
me a prisoner as 1 lay asleep on the coast of Ci-.ti".
But the Gods gave me the upper hand of thom, a:. 'I [
bring their captain, and mucli white metal and n.-in/
swords and cups and beautiful woven stuil'o, a.-, .i git'i t.)
your King. And for thy courtesy, come wilh me, ;mi I
choose a gift f(.)r thyself

Then he led the old man to the treasure-chambers ot
the Temple, which was rich in the offerings of niany
travellers, gold and turquoise and frankincense from
Smai and Punt, great liorns of carved ivory from he
unknown East and the South ; ^owls and baths of
silver from the Khita, who were the allies of Egypt.
But amidst all the wealth, tlie stranger's cargo made a
goodly show, and the old priest's eyes glittered as he
looked at it.

' Take thy choice, I pray thee,' said the Wanderer,
'the spoils of foemen are the share of friends,'

The priest would have refused, but the Wanderer
saw that he looked ever at a bowl of transparent ambei",
from the far-off Nv)rtliern seas, that was embossed with
curious figures of nien and gods, and hu^e fishes, such

I \

pi-

'CT

:it'i!

■m

MERIAMUN THE QUEEN 49

as are unknown in the Midland waters. The Wanderer
put it into the hands of Rei.

'Thou shr.lt keep th.is/ he said, 'and pledge me in
wine from it when I am gone, in memory of a friend
and a guest.'

Rei took the bowl, and thanked him, holding it up
to th'i light, to admire the golden colour.

' We are always children,' he said, smiling gravely.
' See an (^Id child whom thou hast made happy with a
toy. But we are men too soon again ; tiie King bids
thee come with me before him. And, my son, if thou
wouldst please me more than by any gift, I pray thee
pluck that spear-head fr(."m thy helmet before thou
comest into the presence of the Queen.'

' Pardon me,' said the W'mderer. ' I would not
haim my helmet by tearing it rou'^hly out, and I have
no smith's tools here. The spear-point, my father, Is a
witness to the truth of my tale, and for one day more,
or two, I must wear it.'

Rei sighed, bowed his head, folded his hands, and
prayed to his God Amen, saying :

' Amen, in whose hand is the end of a matter,
lighten ^be burden of these sorrows, and let the vision
be easy of aoconqilishment, mid 1 pray thee, Amen,
let thy hand be light on thy daughter Meriamun, the
Lady of Khem.'

Then the old man le<l the V^ anderer out, and bade
the priests make ready a chariot for liim , and so
they went through Tanis to the Court of Meneptali.
Behind them followed the priests, carry i tig gifts that
the Wanderer had chosen from tiie treasures .)f the

TJiE WORLD'S DESIRE.

Suloiiians, and the miserable captain of the Sidoniaiis
was draL,fged along after them, bound to the hinder
part of a chariot. Through the gazing crowd they all
passed on to the Hail of Audience, where, between the
great pillars, sat Pharaoh on his golden throne. Beside
him, at his right hand, was Meriamun, the beautiful
Queen, who looked at the priests with weary eyes,
as if at a matter in ^vhich she had no v,oncern. They
came in and beat the earth with their brows before
the King. First cmne the officers, leading the captain
of the Sidoniaiis for a gift to Pharaoh, and the King
smiled graciously and accepted the slave.

Then came others, bearing the cups of gold ftishioned
like the heads of lions and rams, and the swords with
pictures of wars and huntings etched on their blades in
many-coloured goM, and the necklets of and.)er from
the North, which the Wanderer had choseu as gifts for
Pharaoh's Queen and Pharaoh. He had silks, too, em-
broidered in gold, the needlework of Sidonian women,
and all these the Queen Meriamun touched to sho'v
her acceptance of them, and smiled graciously and
wearily. But the covetous Sidonian groaned, when he
saw his wealtih departing from him, the gains for which
he had hazarded his life in unsailed seas. Lastly,
Pharaoh bade th»-!m lead the Wanderer in before his
presence, and lie catnc; unhelmeted, in all his splendour,
the goodliest man that had ever been seen in Khem.
He was of no great height, but very great of girth, and
of strength unmatched, and with the face of one who
liad seen what few have seen and lived. The beauty
of v<.J'lth was gone fnau him, but his face ha-l the

MERIAMUN THE QUEE/V.

comeliness of a wiUiior tried on sea and land ; the eyes
were of a valour invincible, and no woman could see
hira but she longed t> be his love.

As he entered murnuirs of amazement passed over
all the company, and ull eyes were fixed on him, save
only the wea:y and wandering eyes of the listless
Meriamun. But when she chanced to lift her face, and
o^aze on him, they who watch the looks of kings and
queens saw her turn gray as the dead, and clutch with
her hand at her side. Pharaoh him.self saw this; though
he was not quick to mark what pa.ssed, and he asked
her if anything ailed her, but she answered : —

'Nay, only methinks the air is sick with heat and
perfume. Greet thou this stranger.' But beneath
her robe her fingers were fretting all the while at the
golden fringes of her tlirone.

' Welcome, thou Wanderer/ cried Phariioh, in a
deep and heavy voice, * welcome ! By what name art
thou named, and where dwell thy people, and what is
thy native laud ? '

Bowing low before Pharaoh, tht Wanderer answered,
with a fe 'ined tale, that his name was Eperitus of
Alybas, the son of Apheidas, The rest of the story, and
how he had been taken by the Sidonians, and how he
iiad smitten them on the seas, he ,oid as he had told it
U) Rei And he displayed his helmet with the spear-
point fast ui it. But when she saw this Meriamun rose
to her feet as if she would be gone, and then fell back
into her seat even paler than before.

' The Queen, help the Queen, she faints ' (.ried Rei
the Priest, whose eyes had never left her lace. One of

THE WORLD'S DESIRE,

her ladies, a beautiful woman, ran to her, knelt before
her, and chafed her hands, till she came to herself, and
sat up with angry eyes.

' Let be ! ' she said, ' and let the slave who tends
the incense be beaten on the feet. Nay, I will remain
here, I will not to my chamber. Let be ! ' and her
lady drew back afraid.

Then Phaia(»h bade men lead the Sidonian out, and
slay him in the market-place for his treachery ; but the
man, whose name was Kurri, threw himself at the
feet of the Wanderer, praying for liis life. The
Wanderer was merciful, when the rage of battle was
over, and his blood was cool.

* A boon, Pharaoh Meneptah,' he cried. ' Spare
me this man ! He saved my own life when the crew
would have cast me overboard. Let me pay my debt.'

' Let him be spared, as thou wilt have it so,' spoke
Pharaoh, 'but revenge dogs the feet of foolish mercy,
and many debts are paid ere all is done.'

Thus it chanced that Kurri was given to Meriannm
to be her jeweller and to work for her in gold and
silver. To the Wanderer was allotted a chamber in tlie
Royal Palace, for the Pharaoh trusted that he would
be a leader of his Guard, and took great pleasure in his
beauty and liis strength.

As he left the Hall c f Audience with Rei, the Queen
Meriamnn lifted her eyes again, and looked on him
long, and her ivory face flushed rosy, like the ivory
that the Sidonians dye red for the trappinj.,s of the
horses of kings. But the Wanderer marked both the
sudden fear and the blush of Meriamun, and, beautiful

M£RIAMUN THE QUE EX.

as she was, he iikod it ill, ami liis lieart foreboded
evil. When lie was alone with Rei, therefore, he spoke to
liim of this, nnd prayed the old man to tell him if he
could guess at all the meaning of the Queen.

' Por to me,' he said, ' it was as if the Lady knew
my face, and even as if she feared it ; but I never saw
her like in all my wanderings. Beautiful she is, and
yet — but '* '_ ill speaking in their own land of kings
and queens ! '

At first, when the Wanderer spoke thus, Rei put it
by, smiling. But the Wanderer, seeing that he was
trouble(i, and remeixibering how he had prayed him to
pluck the spear-point from his helmet, pressed him hard
with questions. Thus, partly out of weariness, and
partly for love of him, and also because a secret had
long been burning in his heart, the old man took the
Wanderer iuto his own room in the Palace, and there
he told him all the story of Merianiun the Queen,

♦»•

THE WORLUS DESIRE.

CHAPTER VI.

THE STORY OF MEIUAMUN.

Rki, rhe Priest of Amen, the Master Builder, began
lii.-s 8iuiy im\viJliiii;ly enough, and slowly, but soon he
tonk pleasure in telling it as old men do, and in sharing
the burden of a secret.

"The Queen is ffiir,' he said; 'thou hast seen no
fairer in all thy vo>agings?'

' Slie is fair indeed,' .'insweied the Wanderer. *I
pray that she be well-mated and happy on her
throne?'

' Tliat IS what I will tell thee of, though my life may
be the price of the tale,' said Rei. * But a lighter heart
is well worth an old man's cheap risk, and thou raay'st
help me and her, when thou knowest all. Pharaoh
Meneptah, her lord, the King, is the son of the divine
Rameses, the ever-living Pharaoh, f hild of the Sun, who
dwelleth in Osiris.'

' Thou meanest that he is dead ? ' asked the
Wanderer.

' He dwelleth with Osiris,' said the Priest, ' and
tlie Queen Meriamun was his daughter by another
bed.'

THE STORY OF MERIAMUN. 55

'A brothor wed a sister!' exnlainied the Wanderer.
' It is tlic ciistoin of our Royal H^uae, iVom the (hiy^
of the Timeless Kings, the children of Horus. An < Id

custom.'

' The ways of his hosts are f]^ocd in the eyes of a.
straiit^er,' f-aid the Wanderer, court -ously.

'It is an old oustutu, and a sacnd,' said Rei, 'but
women, the cnstom-niakcrs, are often custom-breakers.
And of all women, Mi^-ianum hast h)ves .0 be obedi-
ent, even to the dead. And yet she has obeyed,
and it vauu; about thus. Her brother Men<;ptah- -who
now is Pharaoh — the Prince of Kush while her divine
father lived, had many half-sisters, but Merianiun w;is
the fairest of them all. She is beautiful, a Moon-child
the common people called her, and wise, and she does
not know the face of fear. And thus it chanced tliat
she learned, what even <^ur Royal women rarely learn,
all the ancient secret wisdom of this ancient land.
Except Queen Taia of old, no woman has known what
Meviamun know s, what I have taught her — I and another
counsellor.'

He pausfd here, and his mind seemed to turn on
unhappy things.

' I have taught her from her chihihood,' he w^ent on
— would that I had been her only familiar- -a n<l, after
her divine father .ind mother, she loved me more than
anv, for she loved few. P^>ut of all whom she did not
love she loved her Royal brother least, lie is slow of
speech, ;ind she is <pnck. She is fearloss and lu^ has
no heart tor war. From her childhood she si orned him,
mocked him, and mastered him with her tungue. She

TIIK WORLDS DESIRE,

even lournod to excel him in tlie chariot racos — there-
fore it was that tlie Kinjjc lii^ f'ther made him but a
General of the Foot Soldiers — and in gues.-^ing riddles,
which our people love, she delighted to c()n(|uer him.
The victory was easy enough, for the divinu Princ^e is
heavy-witted ; but Mtuiamun was never tired of girding
at him. Plainly, even as a little child she grudged that
he should come to wield the scourge of power, and wt^ar
the double crown, while she -.houid live in idleness, and
ii''n jer for command.'

'It is strangt!, then, that of all his sisters, if one
must be Queen, he should have chosen lier,' said th^
Wanderer.

'Strange, and it happened strangely. The Prince's
father, the divine Rameses, had willed the marriage.
The Prince ht^ted it no less than Meriamun, but the
will of a father is the will of tlie Gods. Jn one sport
the divine Prince excelled, in the Game of Pieces, an
old game in Khem, It is no pastime for women, but
even at this Meriamun was determined to master her
brother. She bade n)e carve her a new set of the
pieces fashioned with the heatls of cats, and shaped from
the harcl wood of Az<}bi.^ I carved them with my jwn
hands, and night by night she played wich me, who
have some name tor skill at the sport.

' One sunset it chanced that her brother came in
from hunting tlie lion in the Libyan hills. He was in
an evil hu>iiour, for he had found no lions, and he
caused tlie huntsmen to be stretched out, and beater.
>vith rods. Then he calle<3 for wine, and drank deep

I Cyprus,

I- 'A

THE STORY Of MERIAMUr^.

jit the Pakce gate, and the deeper he drank the darker
trrew his humour.

' He was going to his own Court in the Palace,
strikiiu' with a whip at his hounds, when he chanced
to turn and see Meriamun. She was sitting where
those three great palm-trees are, and was playing at
pieces with me in the cool of the day. There she sat
in the shadow, clad in white and purple, and with the
red gold of the snake of royalty in the blackness of her
hair. There she sat as beautiful as the llathor-, the
Queen of Love ; or as the Lady Isis when she playeti at
fi.cesin Amenti with the ancient King. Nay, an old
man may say it, there never was Vjut one woman more
fair than Meriamun, if a woman she be, she whom our
people call the Strange Hathor!

Now the Wanderer bethought him of the tale of the
pilot, but he said nothing, and Rei went on.

' The Prince saw her, and his anger souglit for some-
thing new to break itself on Up he came, and I rose
before him, and bowed myself. But Meriamun fell
indolently back in her chair of ivory, and with a sweep
of her slim hand she disordered the pieces, and bade
hj^ waiting woman, the lady Hataska, gather up the
board, and carry all away. But Hatasiia's eyes were
secretly watching the Prince.

' " Greeting, Princess, our Royal sister," said Meneptah.
•'What ait thou doing with these?" and he pointed
with his chariot whip at the cat-headed pieces. " This
is no woman's game, these pieces are not soft hearts (jf
men to be moved on the board by love. Thi» game

-lipW'-

-r%

-m-v'mr-.rr^xcrr-:

Tin: woRLiys desire.

uetHis wit! (Jt't thee to thy b oidtii)', for there thou
inay'st excel."

' " Greeting, Prince, our Royal brother," said Meria-
inun. " 1 laugh to hear thee speuk of a game that
ueeds wit, Tliy liunting lias not prospered, so get thee
to the banqu(jt board, for there, I liear, the Gods have
grantetl thee to excel."

' " It is little to say," answered the Prince, throwing
him.selt into a ohair whence I had risen, " it is little to
say, but at the game of pieces I have wit enough to
give thee a temple, a priest and five bowmen, and yet
win," — for these, Wanderer, are the names of some of
the pieces.

' " I take the challenge," cried Meriamnn, for now she
had brought him where she wanted ; " but I will take
no odds. Here is my wager. I will play thee three
games, and stake the sacred circlet upon my brow,
against the Royal uraeus on thine, and the winner shall
wear both." '•

' " Nay, nay. Lady," I was bold to say, " this were too
high a stake."

' " High or lo\v. I acrept the wager," answered the
Prince. " This sister of mine has mocked me too long.
She shall find that hev woman's wit cannot match me
at ray own game, and that my father's son, the Royal
Prince of Kush and the Pharaoh who shall be, is more
than the equal of a girl. I hold thy WMge, Meriamun !"

' " Go then, Prince," she cried, " and after sunset meet
me in my antechamber. Bring a scribe to score the
gamed; Rei shall be the judge, and hold the stakes.

THE STORY OF MERIAML'S'.

But bpwarf of tlir» golli'u Cup of Pasht ' I^rain it not
to-niglit, lest I win a l<>ve game, tliongh we <lo not \\\\vj

for love!"

'The Prince went scowling away, and Meriannm
laughed, hut I foresaw mischiof. The stakes were too
high, the inalch was too strange, but Meriamun would
not list.'ii to nie, for she was very wilful.

' The sun fell, and two hours after the Royal Prince
of Kush came with his scribe, and found Meriamun
with the board of s(^uares before he.r, in her ante-
chamber.

' He sat down without a word, tbon he asked, who
slioul<l first take the field.

•" Wait," she said, '' first let us set the stakes," and
lifting from her brow the golden snake of royalty, she
shook her soft hair loose, and gave the coronet to me.
"If [ lose," she said, "never muy 1 wear the uraeus
crown."

' ' That shalt tliou never while I draw breath,"
answered the Prince, as he too lifted the symbol of his
royalty from his liead and gave it to me. There was a
dilferencc between the circlets, the coronet of Meriamun
was crowned with one crested snake, that of the divijie
Prince was crowned with twain.

'"Ay, Menept^ali," she said, "but perchance Osiris,
God of the Dead, waits thee, for surely he loves thos(i
too great and good for earth Take thou the field and
to the play." At her words of evil omen, he frowned.
But he took the field and readily, for lie knew the
game well.

'She moved in answer heedlessly enough, and after-

Ttrt: woKijys desire.

wards she ))Ijiy('d at rarnloin and carf-hjssly, pnsliin<» the
pifM^es about with litth; skill. And ao he won this first
ganu> (juickly, and ctviti'', " Vhnmoh U dead" swept the

pieces

went

attae

from tht) b()ard. " Se<' how I better tliee," he

on in mocker)',

line IS a woman s i-ainc

all

mn no delenee

let(

'"Boast not yet. Meneptah," she said. "Tliereare
still tw<j sets to play, !See, the board is set and I lake
the field."

* This time the game went differently, for the Prin>ie
could scarce mak(; prisoner ot a single pieci' save of one
temple and two bowmen only, and presently it was the
tui'n of Meriamun to cry '' Pharaoh is dmd," and to
sweep the pieces from the board. This tim* Meneptah
did not boast but scow hi I, while I set th- board and
the scribe wrote down thr game upon his tablets.
Now it was the Prince's turn to take the field.

* " In the name of the holy Tlioth," he cried, "to
whom 1 vow great gifts of victory."

'"In the name of holy j'asht," she made answer, "to
whom I make daily prayer," For, being a maifl, she
swore by the Goddess of ('hastity, and being Meiiamun,
by the Goddess of Vengeance.

'"Tis fitting thou should'st vow by her of the Cat's
Head," he said, sneering.

'"Yes; very fitting," she answered, "for perchance
she'll lend me her claws. Play thou, Prii ce Meneptah,"

'And he played, and so well that for a while the
game went against her. But at length, when tliey had
struggled long, and Meriamun had lost the most of her
pieces, a light came into her face as though she had

THE STOHV OF MF.RIAMViW.

found what she sought Atid wliilo tlu^ Prince eallotl
for wine and drank, 8Im3 lay back iu her i;haii Jind
looked upon the hoard Then nhe niovtui so shrewdly
and upon so <h.M>p a plan tha^ he fell into the trap that
she had laid for him, and could never escape. In vain
he vowed gifts to the holy Thoth, and proiuisod such a
temple as there was none in Klieni.

' " Thoth hears thee not ; he is the God of lettered
men," said Meriamun, mocking him. Then he cursed
land drank more wine.

' " Fools seek wit in wine, but only wise men find it,"
(juoth she again. " Behold, Koyal brother, Pharaoh is
(had, and 1 have won the match, and beaten thee at
tliiut^ own game. Rei, ray servant, give me that circlet;
nay, not my own, the double one, which the divine
Prince wagereil. So T set it on my brow, for it is
mine, Meneptah. In this, as in all things else, I have
conquered thee."

'And she rose, fnd standing full in the light of the
lamps, the Royal uraeus on her brow, she mocked him,
bidding him come do homage to her wdio had won his
crown, and stretching forth her sniall hand for him to
kiss it. And so wondrous was her })eauty that the
divine Prince of Kush ceased to call upon the evil Gods
because of his ill fortune, and stood gazing on her.

'"I^y Ptah, but thou art fair," he cried, "and I
pardon my father at last for willing thet to be my
Queen!"

' " But I will never pardon him," .said Meriamun.

' Now tlie Prince had drunk much wme.

"'Thou shalt be my Queen," he said, "and for earnest

THE WORLDS DESIRE.

J wilJ ki'js thee. This, at the least, being the strongest,
I can do/* And ere she could escape him, he passed his
arm about lier and seized her by the girdle, and kissed
her on the lips and let her go.

' Meriamun grew white as the dead. By her side
there hung a dagger. Swiftly she drew it, and swiftly
struck at his heart, so that had he not shrunk from the
steel surely he iiad been slain ; and she cried as she
struck, '* Thus, Prince, I pay thy kisses back."

' But as it chanceil. .she only pierced his arm, and
before she could strike again I had seized her by the
hand.

' " Thou serpent," said the Prince, pale with rage and
fear. "I tell thee T will kiss thee vet, whether thou
wilt or not, and thou shak pay for this."

' But she laughed softly now that her anger was
spent, and T led him forth to seek a physician, who
should bind up his wound. And when he was gone, I
returned, and spoke to her, wringing my hands.

'"Oh, Royal Lady, what hast thou done? Thou
knowest well that thv divine fathet- destines thee to
wed the Prince of Kush whom but n^jw thou didst
smite so fitTcely."

"* Nay, Rei, I will none of him — the dull clod, who
is called the son of Pharaoh Moreover, he i.s my half-
brother, and it is not meet that I should wed my
brothel. For nature cries aloud against the custom of
the land."

' " Nevertheless, Lady, it ^.s the custom of thy Royal
h(Hise, and thy father's will. Thus the God.s, thine
ancestors, were wed ; Isis to Osiris. Thus great

THE STORY OF MERIAMUN

■m

Thothmes and Amfineniliat did and decreed, and all
their forefathers and ail tlioir seed. Oh, betliiiik thee
— I speak it for thine ear, for I love thee as mine own
daughter — bethink thee, for thou canst not escape, that
Pharaoh's bed is the step to Pharaoh's throne. Thou
lovest power ; here is the gate of power, and mayhap
upon a time the master of the gate shall be gone anci
thou shalt sit in the gate alone."

'"All, llei, now thou speakest like the counsellor of
tiiose who would be kings. Oh, did I not hate him
with this hatred ! And yet can I rule him. Why,
'twas no chance game that we played tliis night : the
future Ifiy u|K)n the board. See, his diadem is upon
my brow 1 At first he won, for I chose that he sliould
win. Well, so mayhap it shall be ; mayhap I shall give
myself to him — hating him the while. And then the
next game ; that shall be for life and love and all
thingp- dear, and I shall win it, and mine shall be the
luaeus crest, and mine shall be the double crown of
ancient Khem, and I shall rule like Hatshepu, the
great Queen of old, for T am strong, and to the strung
is victory.'

'"Yes. I made answer, "but, Lndy, see thou that the
(.irods turn not thy strength to weakness; thou art too
passionate to be all strength, ;ind in a woman's heart
passion is tlie door by which King Folly enters. To-
day thou hatest, beware, lest to-morrow thou shoidd'st
love.

'"Love," she said, gazing scornfully; " Meriamun
loves not till she tind a man worthy ot W'X l.ive."

•"Av.nndthen ?"

■<fe

rnr ivoRuys desire.

' " And then she lo^e^ to all destruction, and woe to
them wlio cross her patli. Rei, farewell"

' Then suddenly she spoke to me in another tongue,
that few know save her and me. and that none can read
save her and me, a dead tongue of a dead people, the
peoplf of that ancient City of liie Rock, whence all our
fathers came.^

* " I go," she said, and I trembled as she spoke, for no
man speaks in this language Vvhen he has any good
thought in his heart. "I gt to seek the counsel of
Tliat thou knowest," and she touched the golden snake
whicli she had won.

' Then I threw myself on the earth at her feet, and
clasped \wy knees, crying, " My daughter, my daughter,
sin not this great sin. Nay, for all the kingdoms of
the world, wake not That which sleepeth, nor warm
again into life That which is a-cold."

' But she only nodded, and put me from her/ — and
the old man's face grew pale as he spoke.

' What meant she ? ' said the Wanderer.

Rei hid his lace in his hands, and for a space he was

silent

^ Pronably tlie niyslerions and mdecipherable ancient books,
which wc^rc. occasionally excavated in old Eu;ypt, were written in
this (lead language of a more ancient and now forgotten people.
►Such was the b^ok discovered at Coptos, in the sanctuary there,
by a priest of the Goddess. 'The whole earth was liark, but
tlie niooTi .-^hone all about the Book.' A scribe of the period of
the Raniessids mentions another indecipherable ancient writing.
'Th'tu tellest me Ihou nnder.^landcst no word of it, good or bad.
There is, as it were, a wall about it that none may climb. Thou
art instructed, yet thou knowest it nut. ; this makef me afraid.'
lUrih, ZeAtschrlft. 187 I, pp. 61-64. Papyrm Anastasi l. pi. X. 1. 8,
pi. X. 1. 4. Maspero, lliiit. J?«c,, pji. 66-67.

■w

THE STORY OF MERJAMUN.

'Nay, wake not thou That which sleepeth, Wanderer,'
he said, at length. ' My tongue is sealed. I tell thee
more that I would tell another. Do not ask, — but hark !
They come again ! Now may Ra and Pasht and Amen
curse them ; may tlie red swine's mouth of Set gnaw
upon them in Amenti ; may tlie Fish of Sebek flesh his
teeth of stone in them for ever, and feed and feed again ! '

'Why dost thou curse thus, Rei, and who are they
that go by '< ' said the Wanderer. ' I hear their tramp-
ing and their song.'

Indeed there came a light noise of many shuffling
feet, pattering outside the Palace wall, and the words of
a song rang out triumphantly :

The Lord our God He doth .sign and wonder,

Tokens He sliows in the land of Khem,
He hath sliattered the pride of the King;^ a.sunder

And <?asteth His shoe o'er the Goda of them !
He hath brought forth frogs in their holy places,

He hath sprinkleci the dust upon crown and hem,
He hath hated their kings and hath darkened ibeir faces ;

Wonders He work.s iii the land of Khem.

'These are the accursed blaspheming conjurors and
slaves, ^he Apura,' said Rei, as the music and the
tramping died away. 'Their magic is greater than the
lore even of us who are mstructed, for their leader was
one of ourselves, a shaven priest, and knows our wisdom.
N<^ver do they march and sing thus but evil comes of
it. Ere day dawn we shall have news of Uiem. May
the Go'ls destroy then*, they are gone for the hour. It
were well if Meriamuu the Queen would let them go
for ever, as they desire, to their death in the Jfsert, but
she hardens the King's heart/

TIfE WORLDS DESIRE.

CHAPTER VII.

THE QUEEN S VISION.

There was ^-ilence without at last; the clamour and
tlie tread of the Ajnira wore hushed in the distance,
dying far away, and Rei grew calm, when he heard no
longer the wild song, and ♦'he clashing of the timbrels.

Vl must tell thee, Eperitus,' he said, 'how the mcttter
ended between the divine Prince and Meriamun. She
bowed her pride before her fatlier auvl her brother: her
father's will was hers ; sIh; seemed to let her secret
sleep, and she set her own price on her hand. In
everything she must be the equal of Pharaoh — that
was her piico ; and in all the temples and all the cities
she was to be solemnly proclaimed joint heir with him
of the Upper and Ijower Land. Tlie bargain was struck
and tlie price was paid. After that ni.;ht over the
game of pieces MeT'iaiuun was changed. Thenceforth
she did not mock at the Prince, she made herself
gentle and submissive to his will.

'So the time drew on till at length in tlie beginning
of the month of the rising of the waters came the day
of her bridal. With a mi^Jity [>oin[) was Pharaoh's
daughter wedded to Pharaoh's son. But her hand was}

TI/£ QUEEN'S VISION. 67

cold as slie stood at the altar, cold as the hand of ODe
vviio sleeps in Osiris. Proudly and coldly she sat in the
golfien chariot passing in .and out the great gates of
Taiiis. Only when she listened and heard the acclaim-
ing thousands shout Meriamun so loudly that the cry
ul' Menepla't was lost in the echoes of her name — then
only did she smile.

' Cold, too, slie sat in her white robes at the feast
that Pharaoh made, and she never looked id the
husband by her side, though he looked kindly on
her.

' The feast was long, but it ended at last, and then
came the music and the singers, but Meriamun, making
excuse, rose and went out, attended by her ladies.
And 1 also, weary and sad at heart, passed thence to my
own chamber and busied myself with the instruments
of my art, for, stranger, I build the houses of gods and
kings.

' Presently, as I sat, there came a knocking at the
do<T. a. id a woman entered wrapped in a heavy cloak.
She put aside the cloak, and before me was Meriamun
in all lier bridal robes.

• " Hei 1 me not, Rei," slie said, " I am yet free for an
ho\ir; and I would watch thee at thy labour, ^«ay, it
is my humour ; gainsay me not, for I love well to look
on that wrinkled face of thine, scored by the cunning
chisel of thy knowledge and tliy years. So from a
child have I watched thee tracing the shapes of mighty
temples that shall endure when ourselves, and perchance
the very Gods we worship, have long since ceased to be.
All, Rei, thou wise man, thine is the better part, far

THE WORLDS DESIRE.

thou buildest in cold enduring stone and attirest thy
walls as thy fancy bids thee. But I — I build in the dust
of human hearts, and my will is written in their dust.
When I am dead, raise me a tomb more beautiful than
ever has been known, and write upon the portal iJere,
in the. last temple of her pride, dwells that tired builder,
Mcriamun, the Queen."

' Thus she talked wildly in words with little reason.

' " Nay, speak not so," I said, " for is it not thy bridal
night ? What dost ttiou here at such a time ? "

' " What do I here ? Surely I come to be a child
again ! See, Rei, in all wide Khem there is no
woman so shamed, so lost, so utterly undone as is to-
night the Royal Mcriamun, whom thou lovest. I am
lower than she who plies the street for bread, for the
loftier the spirit the greater is the fall. 1 am sold into
shame, and power is my price. Oh, cursed be the fate
of woman who only by her beauty can be great. Oh,
cursed be that ancient Counsellor thou wottest of, and
cursed be I who wakened That which slept, and warmed
That which was a-cold in my breath and in my breast f
And cursed be this sin to which he led me ! Spurn
me, Rei; strike me on the cheek, spit upon me, on
Meriamun, the Royal harlot who sells herself to win a
crown. Oh, I hate him, hate him, and I will pay him
in shame for shame — him, the clown in king's attire.
See here,'' — and from her robe she drew a white flower
that was known to her and me — " twice to-day have I
been minded with this deadly blossom to make an end
of me, and of all my shame, and all my empty greed of
glory. But this thought has held my hand : 1, Meria-

THE QUEEN S 17SI0N.

niun, will live to lock arross l;is fp'ave and broak hia
iniao-es and beat out tb(> writintijs of bis uaine from
every temple wall in Kbem, as they beat out tlic bated

name of Hatsliepu. I " and suddenly she burst

mto a rain of tears \ she who was not wont to weep.

'"Nay, touch me not," she said. "They were but
tears of anger. Meriamun is mistress of her Fate, not
Fate of Merianiun. And now, my lord awaits me,
and I must be gone. Kiss me on the brow, old friend,
whilst yet I am the Meriamun thou knevvest, and then
kiss me no more for ever. At the least this is well for
thee, for when Meriamun is Queen of Khem thou shalt
be first in all the land, and stand on the footste]>s of my
throne. Farewell." And she gathered up her raiment
and cast her w^hite flower of death in the flame of the
brazier, and was gone, leaving me yet sadi.ler at heart.
For now I knew that she was not cts other women are,
but greater for good or evil.

, I

* On the morrow niglit I sat again at my task, and
auain then^ came a kiiockinof at the door, and again a
woman entered and threvy aside her wrappings. It was
Meriamun. She was pale and st ^,rn, and as I rose she
waved me back.

' " Has, then, the Prince — thy husband ," I

stammered.

t <( C!,

Speak not to me of the Prince, Rei, m}' servant,"
she made answer. "Yesternight I spoke to thee wildly,
my mind was overwrought ; let it be forgotten — a wife
am I, a happy wife ; " and she smiled so strangely that
I shrunk back from her.

■il

inE WORLiyS DESJRE,

t <(

Now to my erraiid. I h ivc rlrennied a dream, a
troublous dream, and tliuu ait wise and instriicted,
therefore [ pray tJiee inter})ret my vision. I slept and
dreamed of a man, and in my dream I loved him more
than I can telL For my heart beat to his iieart, and in
the hght of h"'n I lived, and all m\ «oul 'is lis, and I
knew that I loved liim for t-er. J' sJ I'hava.oi) was my
husband; but, in my <lream, I ijvt ^^ ' i *4 not. Now
there came a woman lisinof out of the sea, liju.". beau-
tiful than I, with a beauty fairer and more ehangeful
than the dawn upon tlie mountains ; and she, too, lovi.-d
tins godlike man, and he loved her. Then we strove
to;^'et!ier fur his love, matchinji; beauty aij^alnst beauty,
and wit agcuust wit, and magic against magic. Now
one con([uere' , anvl now the other; but in the end the
victory was mine, and I went arrayed as for a marriage
bed — and I clasped a corpse.

' " I woke and again I slept, and saw myself wearing
another garb, an<i speaking another tongue. Before me
was the man I loved, atid there, too, wa,s the woman,
wrapped about with beauty, and I was changed, and
yet I was the very Meriamun thou seest. A\u\ once
more we struggled for the mastery and for this man's
love, and in that day she conquered me.

* ** I slept, and ngain I woke, and in another land
than Kijera — a strange land, and yet methought T
kjew it from long ago. There I dwelt among the
graves, and dark faces were about, me, and I wore
That thou know est for a girdle. And the tombs of
the rock wherein we dwelt were scored with the

writings of a dead tongue — the tongue of that laud

THE QUEEN'S VISION.

«■!

whence ' r fathers came. W^ were all changed, yet
the sanif , m'l once mor*- the woinau and I struggled
for the m §tery, and though I seemed to conquer, yet a
soa of iiri janie over me, and I wol'e and I slept again.

' ' Th.en confusion "vas ,iled upon confusitm, nor can
my memoiy hold all that came to pass. For this game
played itself afresh in lands, and lives, and tongues
without n'inihor. Only the last bout and the winner
were not re /ealed to me.

' " And in my dream I cried aloud to the protecting
Gdds to escape out of the dream, and I sought fnr light
that I might see whence these things were. Then, as
in a vision, the Past opened up its gates. It seemed
th;it upon a time, thousand, thousand ages agone, I and
this man of my dream had arisen from nothingness
and looked in each other's eyes, and loved with a love
rnspeukable, and vowed a vow that shall endure from
lime to time and world to world. For we were not
iiiortal then, but partook of the nature of the Gods,
boMug more fair and great than any of i: urn an kini,
and our happiness was the happiness of Heaven. But
in our great joy we hearkened to the Voice of That thou
knowest, of that Thing, Rei, with which aga'.ist thy
counsel, I have but lately dealt. The kiss of our love
awakened That which slept, the fire of our love warmed
That which was a-cold ! We defied the holy Gods,
worshipping them not, but rather each the other, for we
knew that as the Gods we were eternal. And the Gods
were angered agninst us and drew us up into their
presence And while we trembled they spake as with
a voice :

THE w'oia.irs Diis/h'/c.

'*' ' Yt> twain vvlio are one lit'f, caoli coiiiplctin^ oacli,
because with your kisses yv. Iiavo vvakeiuul Tliat which
slept, anrl with tlic fire of your luve have warnied Tliat
which was a-coM ; ))ecau.se ye have forgotten them
that gave you life and love and joy : hearken to y(jur
Doom !

'"'From Two be ye made Three, 'Mv\ throu<(h all
Time strive ye to be twain agtin. Pass from tlws Holy
Place! down to the Hell of Martli, !i,nd though ye be
inunoital put on the garmt^nts oj mort'ility. Pass on
from Life to Life, live and love ami hate and seem to
die . have nccjuaintance with every lot, and in your
blind forgetfulness, being one ami being equal, work
each other's woe according to the law of Earth, and for
your love's sake sin and be shamed, perish and re-arise,
a])pear to conquer ami be conquered, pursuing your
threefold destiny, which is one destiny, till the hours of
punishment are outworn, ;ind, at the word of Fate, the
unaltering circle meets, a,nd the veil of blindness falls
fiom your eyes, and, as a scroll, your folly is unrolled,
and the hid purpose oi'your sorrow is aceonq:)lished and
once more ye are Twain and One.' , ,

' " Then, as we trembled, cliTii;mg each to each, again
the great Voice spoke :

""Ye twain who are One — let That to which ye
have hearkened divide you and enfold you ! Be ye
Three ! '

' " And as the Voice spoke I was torn with agony,
and strength went out of me, and there, by him I loved,
stood the woman of my dream crowned with every
glory and a dor net! with the Star, And we were three.

Tiir. QUEEN'S vrsroN.

1 ,;;fj

And b('t\v»>en liiin Mtid iiiu, yet enfolding liini iiiul nio,
writhed tliat Tiling iliou ncjttest of. And lie wliom I
loved turned to look upon the fair woman, wondering,
and she smih^l and stretched out her arnns towards hmi
as one who would take that which is her own, and, Rei,
in that hour, though it was but in a dream, 1 knew the
mortal pain of jealousy, and awokt; trend)ling. And
now read thou tliis vision, Rei, thou who art learned in
the interpretation of di earns and m the ways of sleep."

' "Oh, Latly," I made answer, "this thing is too high
for me, I canuot interpret it; but where thou art, there
may I be to help thee."

' " 1 know thy love," siie said, " but in thy words ia
little light. So — so — let it p;iss ! It was but a dream,
and if indeed it came from the Undor World, why, it
was from no helpful God, but rather from Set, the
Tormentor ; or from Pasht, the Terrible, who throws
the creeping shadow of her dooui upon the miiror of
my sleep. For that which is deeree<l will suiely come
to|mss! I am blown like the dust by the breath of
Fate ; now to rest upon the Temple's loi'tiest tops, now
to be trodden underfoot of slaves, and now to be
swallowed by the bitter deep, and in season thence
rolled forth again. I love not this lord of mine, who
shall be Pharaoh, and never may he come whom I shall
love. 'Ti^ well that I love him not, for to love is to be
a slave. When the heart is cold then the hand is
strong, and 1 am fain to be the Queen leading Pharaoh
by the beard, the first of all the ancient land of Khem;
for I was not born to serve. Nay, while I may, T rnlr,
awaiting the end of rule. Look fortii, T-ei, an-! .see how

THE WORLD'S DESIRE.

•Jk; i.iys fioin Mnflnr Tsis' throne flooii m11 the c'lns
hikI all tlu' city's streets and broak in liL;ht upon tlie
w.'tter's brc.ist. So shall tlu* Moon-child's fame Hood
all this IjiikI of Khern. What matters it, if ore the
morn Isis ninst pn-<s to hor dominion of the iJead, and
the voice of Moriiumrii be hushed within a sL'])ulc:hri' ? "

'So she spoke and went thence, and on h-M- face was
no bride's smile, but rather such a gaze jis that with
v\hicii the great s]>hinx, Horemku, looks our across the
desert sands.'

' A strange Queen, Kei,' said the Wandi^rer, Jis he
paused, ' but wliat have I to niiikc in tlii^ tah; of a
bride and her mad dn-anis?'

'More than thou shait dosire,' said Rei ; 'but let ua
come to the end, and Ihou shult hear thy part iu the
Fate/

I (

IJIi: KA, IJ/E BAI, AND THE KlIOU. 75

CTTAPTER VITT.

THK KA, THE BAI, ANP TMF KFfOU.

' Thk Divine Pharaoh KanK's»'S died and was leathered
to Osiris. With these liands I (;l()S(;d his coffin and set
hini in liis splendid tomb, where he sliall rest unhartiied
tor ever till the day of the awakening. And Meriuniun
and Meneptah rtjigned in Khem. But to Pharaoii she
was very cold, though he did her will iu everytliing,
'MmX thev had but one child, so that in a while he
wearied of hrr loveliness.

' But licrs was the inaster-rnind, and she ruled
Pharaoh as she ruh^d all olso.

'For nie, my lot was bettered; .she talked miu'h
with me, and advanced me to great dignity, .so that I
was the first .Master Builder in Khem, and Commander
of the legion of Anion.

'Now it chanced tlu. •" Meriamnn made a feast, where
slie entertained liiarauij, and Hataska sat beside liim.
She was the fir.st lady ibout the Qiux'n's person, a
beautiful but insolent woman, who had gained Pharaoh .s
favour for the hour. Now wine worked so with the
King that he toyed openly with tin; lad\ Hatat^ka's
hand, but Meriamun the Queen took no note, though

THE WORLiyS DESIRE,

Iliitaskn,. who liad also dnink of the warm wine of the
Lower Land, grew insolent, as was her wont. She
(luaffcd deep from lier cup of gold, and bade ?, slave
boar it to the Queen, crying, " Pledge me, my sister."

'The nu;aning of her message was plain to all who
heajd ; this waiting lady openly declared herself wife to
Pharai)h and an equal of the Qvieen. Now Meriamun
cared nothing for Pharaoh's love, but lor power she did
care, and she frowned, while a light shone in her dark
eyes ; yet she teok the cup and touched it with her lips.

' Presently she lifted her own cup in turn and toyed
with it, then made pretence to drink, and said softly to
the King's paramour, who had pledged her:

' " Pledge me iii answer, Hataska. my servant, for
soon, niethinks, thou shalt be greater than the Queen."

' Now this foolish woman read her saying wroii"-, and
took till" golden cup tiom the eunuch who bore it.

' With a little nud to the Queen, and a wave of her
slini hand, ILitaska drank, and instantly, with a great
cry, she iell dead across the board. Then, while all the.
company sat in terror, neither ditring to be silent nor to
speak, and while Meriamun smiled scornfully on the
dark lie;.,d lying i"W among the roses on the board,
Pharaoh leaped up, mad with wrath, and called to the
guards to seize the Queen. But she -'aved tliem back,
and, speaiving in a slow, (iold voice, she said :

" "■ Dare not to touch Khemi's anointed Queen lest
your fate be as Uav fate. For thee, Meneptah, forget
not thy marriage v>atli, What, am 1 Queen, and shall
thy wantons throw thisir insolence in my t,eeth and
name n\e their sister? Not so, for ii" my eyes be blind

"''**i

THE KA, THE BAI, AND THE KHOU. 77

yet are my ears open. Peace, she is rightly served —
choose thou a lowlier mistress ! "

Aud Pharaoh made no answer, for he feared her
with an ever-growing fear. But she, sinking back in
her seat of state, played with the gold kepher on her
hivast, and watched them b(var the body forth to the
House of Osiris. One by one all t]\e comp my made
obeisance \\v\ passed thence, glad to be gone, till at the
last there were lett only Pharaoh and Meriamun the
Queen, and lyself — Rei the Priest — for all were much
nfraid. Then Pharaoh spoke looking neither at her
nor at me, and half in ft^ar, half in anger,

' " Thou hateful woman, accursed be the <iay when
first I looked upon thy beauty. Thou hast conqu<^red
me, but beware, for I am still Pharaoh and thy Lord.
Cross my purpose once again, and, by Him who sleeps at
Phibe, I will di.scrown thee and give thy body t*' the
tormentors, and .'et thy soul loose to follow her >vliom
thou hast slain "

' Then Meriamun answ^ered proudly :
*" Pharaoh, be warned t lift but one linger against my
majesty and thou art doomed. Thou canst nor slay me,
but I can over-match thee, and I swear by the same
oatli ! By Him who sleeps at Philae, lift but a hand
agfiinst me, ay, harbour one thought, of treachery, and
thou diest. Not lightly can I be deceived, for I have
messengers that thou canst not hear Something, Royal
Menept,ah, do I know of thi- lUiigic of tliat Queen Taia
who was before me. Now listen — do this one thing and
ail sliall bf well. Go on thy path and leave me to follow
mine. Queen I am, Queen 1 will remain, and in all

THE WORLUS DESIRE.

matters f»f the State mine must be an equal voice though
it is thine that speaks. And, for tlie rest, we are apart
hen(3efoith, for thou fearest me, and, Meneptah, I love
not thee, nor any man."

* " As thoa hast spoken, so be it," quoth Pharaoh, for
his heart sank, and his fear came back upon him.
" Evil was the iiay when first we met, and this is the
price of my desire. Hencefortli wo are apart in bed and
board, but in the council we are still one, for our ends
are one. 1. know thy pow^r, Meriuiimn, thou gifted of
the evil Gods ; thou needest not fear that 1 ^hall seek
to slay thee, for a spear cast against tfie heavens returns
on him wlio threw it. Rei, my servant, thou wert v/it-
ness to oui oitiis; hear now their undoing. Meriamun,
the Queen ot ;uicient Khem, thou art no more wife ut
mine. Farewell."

'And he wont heavily and stricken with fear.

' *' Nay" she said, gazing after hiia, " no more am I
Meneptah's wit(!, but .still am 1 Khemi's dreaili;d Queen.
Oh, thou old priest, I ant aweary. See what a lot is
Uiine, wiio have all things but U)ve, an<l yet am sick ot
all ! I longod for power, and power is mine, and vviiat
is power ? It is a ro<i wherewith we beat the air that
straightway <'loses on the stroke. Yes, I tire of my
loveless davs and of this dull round of conuuon thintjs.
Oh, for one hour of love and in that hour to die!
Oh that the future would lift its veil and disclose the
face of time to be ! Say, Rei ! Wilt thou be bold
and dare a deed?" And she clasped me by the
sleeve and whispered in my ear, in the dead tongtie
known to h«'r and ww- — " Her 1 slew— thi>u .sawust "

THE KA, THE BAI, AND THE KHOU. 79

'"Ay, Queen, I suw — \vhat of liei? Twas ill done."
'"Nay, 'twas rightly done and well done. But thou
know est she is not yet cold, nor for a while will be, and
I }jiive the art to drag her s|)irit back ere she be cold,
fron) where she is, and to forcr knowledge from its
lips — foi- being an Osiris all the future is open to her
in this hour."

'" IS'ay, nay," 1 cried. " It is unholy — not lightly nuiy
we disturb the dead, lest the Guardian Gods be moved
to anger."

' " Yet wdl I do It, Rei. If thou dost fear, come not.
But 1 go. I am fain ibr knowdedge, and thus only
may I win it. If I die in the dn^ad endeavour, write
this of Meriaimui the Queen : That in seeking the
to-be — she found it!"

'"Nay. Royal Lady," I answered, "thou shalt not go
alone. I too have some skill in magic, and perchance
ran ward evil from thee. So, if indeed thou wilt dare
this dreadful thing, behold now, as ever, I am thy
servant."

' " It is well. See, row, the body will this night be
laid in the sanctuary of the l^emple of Osiris that is
near the great gales, as is the custom, to await the
coming of the ernbalmers. Come ere she be colder
than my heart, come with me, Rei, to the- house of
the Lord of the Dead!"

' She passed to her chamber, wrapped her'^elf about
in a (h(rk robe, and huriied w \\\ rne to the Temple
doors, where we were challenged by the guards.

* " Who passes ? In the name of the Holy Osiris
hpeak."

THE WORfjys DESfRE.

' '■' Rei, the Master Builder aiul the anoiuted Priest,
and with him iinotlicir," 1 made answer. " Open."

' " Nay, I open not. Tliere is one within who may not
tKi wakened. '

' " Who, then, is within '{"

'"She whom the Queen slew."

* " The Queen sends one who would look on her she

I?)
ew.

' Thim the priest gazed on the hooded form beside
me and started back, crying. ' A token, noble Rei."

' 1 lield up the Royal signet, and. bowing, he opened.
B(Mijg come within the Temple I lit the tap(!rs that had
b(!tin prepared. Then by theii' lerble light we passed
through the outer hail till we came to the curtains that
veil the sanctuary ol the Holy Place, and here I
quenched the tapers ; for no fir*' must enter there, save
that which burns upon the altar of the dead. But
through th6? curtains came rays of liglit.

' " Open ' " said Meriamun, and I opened, and hand in
hand we pa.ssed in. On the altar that is in the place
tlie flame burnt brightly. The ohiunber is not wide and
great, for this is the smallest of the temples of Tanis,
but yet so large that the light coald not reach its walls
noi pierce the; overhanging gloom, and by nmch gazing
scarcely could we discover the outline of the graven
shapes of the Holy Gods that are upon the walls. But
tlie light fell clear upon the great statue of the Osiris
that was seated btlud the al+ar fashioned in the black
stone oi Syene, wound Jibout ^vith the corpse-cloths,
wearing on his liead the rrr. o .\ of the Upper Land, and
holding in his hand^ tSk '^rook of divinity and the awful

■"*>,

THE KA, THE BAl AND THE KHOV. Si

scourge of pvmishnumt. The light shone all about the
white and dreadful shape that was placed upon lii»
holy knees, the naked shape of lost H.'Uaska who this
iiiaht had died at the hand of Meriamun. Tliere .-she
bowed her head against (he sacred breast, her long hair
streaming down on either side, her arms tit3d across her
heart, and her eyes, whence the hues of life had scarcely
faded, widely staring at the darkness of thp shrine.
For at Tanis to this day it is the custom for a mgiit to
place those of high birth or office who die suddenly
uj)on the knees of the statue of Osiris.

' " See," I said to the Queen, speaking low, for the
weight ot tlie haunted place sank into my heart, '' sec
how she who scarce an hour ago was but \ lovely
wanton hath by thine act been clad in majesty greater
than all thu glory of the earth. Bethink thee, wilt
tliou dare indeed to summon back the spiiit to the
body whence thou hast set it free \ Not easily, O Queen,
may it be done for all thy magic, and if perchance she
answereth thee;, it may well be that the terror of Iter
words shall utterly o'erwhelm us."

' " Nay," she made answer. '* 1 aui instructed. T fear
not. I know by what name to call the Khou that
hovers on the threshold of the Double Hall of Truth,
and how to send it back to its own place. I fear not,
but if perchance thou tearest, Rei, depart hence imd
leave me to the task ak)ne."

' " Nay," I. said " I. also am itistructed, and 1 go nut.
But I say to thee this is unholy."

'Then Merianmn spake no more — but lifting up her
hands slie held them lu^aven wards, anrl so lor a .vliile

THE WORljyS DESIRE.

she stood, licr fjice fixed, as was the face of dead
liataska. Tlieu, as must be done, I drew the circle
round ua and round the dtar and tlie statne of Osiris
and that which sat upon his knee. With my KStaff I
drew it, and standing theiein I saiti the holy words
which should ward away the evil things that come near
in such an hour.

'Now Merianmn threw a certain powder into the
flame upon the altar. Thrice she? tlirew the powder,
and as she threw it a ball of tlanie rose from ihe altar
and floated away, each time tiiat she threw did the ball
of fire rise ; and this it was needful to do, for by fire only
may the dead be manifest, and therefore was a globe of
fire given to each of the three shapes that together
make the threefold s})irit of the dead. And when the
three globes of fire liad melted into air, passing over
the head of the statue of Osiris, thrice did Meriamun
cry aloud : •

' " Uataska ! Hatasha ! }hUa.^ha !

*" By the dreadful Name I summon thee.

"* I summon thee from the threshold of the Double
Hall.

*''! summon thee from the Gates of Judgment.

"* I summon thee from the door of Doom.

*"By the link of life and death that is between thee
and rae, I bid thee come from where thou art ;»nd make
answer to that which I sliall ask of thee."

' She ceased, but no answer came. Still the cold
Osiris smiled, and still the body on his knee sat with
open eyes gazing into nothingness.

*"]Sot thus easily," 1 whisprrod, 'may this dr.'adful

THE KA, TflE BAL AND THL KHOU. 83

thing be done. Thou art instruct,e(i in tlie Word of
Fear. If thou darest, let it pass thy lips, or hit us be
gone."

' " Nay, it sliall be spoken," she said — and thus she
wroiiirht. Passinu: to the statue she hid her liead
within lier cloak and with both l)ands grasped the feet
of the slain Hataska.

' Seeing this I also crouched upon the floor nnd hid
my face, for it is death to he^r that Word with an
uncovered face.

' Then in so soft a whisper that scarce had its brcatli
stirred a feather on her lips, Meriamnn spoke the Word
of F(i;u- whicli may not be written, whose sound has
power to pn.ss all space and open the ears of the dea-'
who dwell in Amenti. Softlv she said it, but in a shtut
of thunder it was caught up and echoed from her lips,
and down the eternal halls it seenuxl to ru.sh on the
feet of storm and the wings of wind, so that the roof
rocked and the deep foundations of the Temple quivered
like a wind -stirred tree.

"• rnveil, ye n?ortals ! " cried a dreadful voice, "and
look upon the si<';ht of fear that ye liave dared to
suninion.'

'And 1 rose and cast my cloak froiM about my face
and gazed, then sank down in terror. For round about
tlie circle that T had drawn pressed all the multitude of
the dead ; countless as tlie tlesert sands they ptressed,
gazing with awful eyes upon us twain. And the tire
that was on the altar died away, but yet was there
light, for it shone from those d(:ad eyes, and in the eye«
of lost Uataska there was light.

84 THE WOKLUS VESIK'E.

' And ever the faces cliaug(nl, never Ibi one beat of
time did they ecase to oliange. For as we gjized U|X)n
a fat I it would melt, even to the eyes, and round these
same liyes again would gatiicr hut no mon» the same.
And likt. the ^.loping sides ot" pyramids were tlie faces
set about us tiom the ground to the Temple ruof — aud
on us were fixed their glowmg eyes.

'And 1, llei, being instructed, knew tliat tw suffer
myself to be overeoaie with terror was death, a* it was
death to pass withou the circk'. So in my heart I called
upon Osiris, Lord o the Deail, to protect us, and even
as T named the inetiabh> name, lo ! all the thousand
thous* 'vi faces bent tiiemselves in adoration and then,
tu rising, looked each upon the other even .as though each
spake to each, au i changed, and swiftly changed.

' " Meriamun, ' I said, gathering uj) my strength,
'*fear not, but beware!"

*" Nay, wheretoio sh«)uld '' fear," she answered, "be-
cause the veil of sense is tin-i, and for an hour we see
those who are ever about our path and whose eyes
walch our most .sc^crot thought continually ? 1 fear
not." And she stepped boldly, even to the edge of
the circle, and cried :

' " All hail, ye Sahus, spirits of the awful dead, among
wliom I also shall hv. numbered."

'And as she came tlie ch;mging faces shrunk away,
leaving a spa,ce betore her. And in the spact:- there
grew two arms, mighty and l)laek, that stretched them-
selves towards her, until the e was not the lenijth of
three grains oj' wheat betwixt the clutcliuig fingers
;ind her breast.

THE K.I, THE BAl, AND THE KHOU. 85

'But Mi-riiuriim uiilv liiu^rlu'd ami dn-w back a Mjtaoe,

'"Not so, tlioii Knumy," ^*li<' huuI, "this rircle tlinii
niay'st noi, break ; it is too str()n«;- foi tlicf Hut to tbo
work. Hata!*ka, once aj^ain by thi' link of lite and
deatli 1 suinmoM tlu'c — and tliis tiiuf tiioii nnist oonio,
tlioM who wast a wanton uid now art greater than the
Queen.

'And as she spoke, t'rnrn the dead i'orin of tlie woman
on Osins knee there issue(i fortli another loiin and
stood before us, as a snake issues troni its slough. And
as w^as the dead Ifata.ska so was this i'urni, feature for
feature, look for look, and limb for limb. I5ut still the
coi-pse restiM.1 upon Dsiris knee, for tin., was but liie K(t
that stood before us.

'And thus spok(» the voice of Hulaska in tht^ lips of
the Ka :

'"What wouldcst thou with me who am no more; of
thy company, thou by whes<> hand my body did
perisli I Why troubiest thou me ^"

'And Meriamun made answer: '"I \\M»uld tlii.s of
thee, thai tliou sh(mldest declare unte m<; the future,
even m the presence of this great, com pan). Speak, I
command thee."

'And the Ka said '''Mav,, Mt.^nnmun. that I cannot
do, for I am but the Ka — the JJwellei in the Tondx tlie
guardian ot what w^as- Hata>k'i whom thou did.st sl.ty.
whom T must watch tlirou^li all the days ^ii deatli till
resurrection is. Of the future \ knovv naught, seek
thou that which knows."

•"Stati<l thou on one sidf," i|iioth the Que(-'n. and the
Dueller in the Tomb ol^e\i.-d.

THE \] ORLn'S DESIRF..

'Then oiui' mon- slu; mllcd upon llataska mid tlirio
caino a sound ul' rusliij)*: winus. And Vnliold, on tlio
head of lilt: statue of Osiris snt a i^n-cal bird, feathcicd
as it weiM witli ^'old liuf, the bird had th.- head
of a, W()t»»ai), aud thf fai " was fashioiu'd as the
fai.'o of Hataska. And thus it spuKc, tliat was iho
Bai :

""What wouldest thou with me, Menamun, who am
no more of thy e(»inpaMy ? Why (l"V>t thou dra'-v me
fro»n Hie Uuder World, thou by wiu.sc liand my Itody
did peiish ^ "

'And Moriamun said :" This I wouM of the', that
thon shonldest declare unto me tht' future. Speak, I
command thee.'

* And the Bai said: "Nay, Meriainiin Miat I cariiiot
do. I am but the Bai uf l)t;r who w.is Hat oka, aud
I fliy from Deatli to Life and Life lo Death, till the
hour t>f awakeiiino- is <Jf the future I know uaii^iit;
seek thou that wiiich knows."

'"Rest thou vvhe're thou art," (piot.li the Qne.u, and
there it rested, awful to see.

'Then once mere Meriamun called upor\ HataL^ka,
bidc^ino- her hear the summons where she \\as.

'And behold the eyes of the Dead One that was upon
the knee of Osiris f^lowed, and glowed the eyes of the
])wejlei' in the Tuudj, and of the wingt^d AL'Sse'nger
M 111. sat above. And then there was a sound as the
.•^ou'id of wind, an I fiom above, cleaving the (larkn''S.s,
descended a 'Joif^ue of Flame and rested on the brow
of 1 lie dead I !,i!a.-.ka. And the eyes of all the tiiou-
8and thousaii'l spirits tuined and g.ized upon the

THE KA. THE JiAl, AND THE KHOd 87

Tmi'^uc of F!;mie. Arnl tin a domi Jlataska spok^^
— tli<»ii,^^li lier lips uioved not, yet slio f poke. Aini tliia
hhc said :

"• What woul'lost tliou vvith me, i\l«'rijuTim), wlm am
Tit* more of tliy compari\ \ Why dost thou dan^ tw
tr.'idjle mc, thou by whose hand my Ixidy did {X'lish,
drawing me from the tlimshold t>t the Double Hall ot
Trutli. back to the Ov.'r World?"

'Anil Meri.'i.nujn the Queen said, " Oh, thou JChmi,
for this purj'oso have I called tbee. I am aweary ot
iiiv (1.1 vs and 1 f;uii wotiM learn th. future. Tho future
fain would 1 learn, but the forkeii tonL^uc of That which
sliM^ps tells mo no word, and the lij)s of That which is
;i-cold are duiid)' Tell me, then, tbou, 1 cliai ,e thee
by the word that Iim.s |30wer to op»ni the lips of the
«!e;i(l^ Ui'.u \, ho in all thni<(s art instructed, what .shall
be I lie burden of my days '^ "

• And the dread Khou made answer: " Love shall be
the burden of thy days, and Death shall be the burden
of thy love. Behold ono draws near from out the
North whom thou hast loved, whom thou shalt love
from life to life, till all things are a* complished.
IJetiunk thee of a dream that thou dreamodst as
thou didst lie on Pharaoh's bed, and read its ridd'e.
Meriamun, thou art great and thy name is known upon
the earth, and in Atuenti is thy name known. High i.«*
thy fate, and through blood aad sorrow shalt thou find
it. I hav<? spoken, let me ijence."

'"It is well," the Quet u made answer. "But not
yet mayest thou go hence. First I connnand thee, by
the word of dread and by the link of lih; and death,

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THE WORLD'S DESIRE.

declare unto me if here upon the {v<\v\\\ and in this life
I shall possess hirn whom I shall love ? "

' " In sin and craft and sorrow, Meriamun, thou shalt
possess him ; in shauic and jealous agony he shall be
taken from thee b} one who is stronger than thou,
though thou art strong ; by one mor-.' oeautiful than
thou, thodgh thou art beautiful; aud ruin thou shalt give
him for his guerdon, and ruin of the heart shalt thou
harvest for tliy portion. But for this time she shall
escape thee, whose footsteps inarch with thine, and with
his who siiall be thine and hers. Nevertheless, in a day
to come thou shalt pay her back measure for measure,
and evil for evil, 1 have spoken. Let me hence."

'"Not yet, () Khou — not yet. I have still to learn.
Show me th^^ face of hei who is mine enemy, and the
face of him wlio is my love."

' " Thrice mayest thoi speak to me, O thou greatly
daring," answered tli (Lead Khou, "and thrice I may
make reply, and then farewell till I meet thee on the
threshold of the hall whence thou hast drawn me.
Look now on the face of that Hataska whom thou
slowest."

' And we looked, and behold the face of dead Hataska
changed, an<i t hanged tht face of the Double, the Ka
that stood t« I one side, and the face of the great bird,
the Bai, that spread hi.s wings about the head of Osiris.
And they grew beautiful, yes, most exceeding beautiful
so that it cannot be told, and the beauty was that of a
woman asleep. Then lo, there hung above Hataska, as
it were, the shadow^ of one wluj w^atched her sleeping.
Aud his face we saw not, for, thou Wanderer, it was

THE KA, THE BAI, AND THE KIIOU. 89

hidden by the visor of a golden two-horned helm, an*! in
that helm stood fast the bronze point of a broken spear !
But he was clad in the armour of the people of the
N(jrthern Sea, the Aquaiusha, and his hair fell dark
about his shoulders like the petals of the hyacinth
flower.

' " Behol(' thine enemy and behold thy love ! Fare-
well," said the dread Khou, speaking through dead
Hataska's lips, and as the words died the sight of
beauty faded and the Tongue of Flame shot upwards
and was lost, and once more the eyes of the thousand
thousand dead turned and looked upon each other
even as though their lips whispered each to each.

' But for a while Meriamun stood silent, as one
amazed. Then, awaking, she waved her hand and cried>
" Begone, tliou Bai ! Begone, thou Ka ! "

' And the great bird whereof t^je face was as the face
of Hataska spread his golden wings and passed away to
his own place, and the Ka that Wits in the semblance of
Hataska drew near to the dead one's knees, and passed
back into her from whom she came. And all the
thousand thousand faces melted though the fiery eyes
still gazed upon us.

' Then Meriamun covered her head and once more
spoke the awful Word, and I also covered up my head.
But, as must be done, this second time she called the
Word aloud, and yet though she called it loud, it came
but as a tiny whisper from her lips. Nevertheless, at
the sound of it, once more was the Temple shaken as
by a st<>rm.

' Then Meriamun unveiled, and bi;h<ild, again the

THE WORLD'S DESIIE

lire burned upOQ the altar, and on tlie knei-s of the
Osiris sat Hatask.i, cold and stiil in death, and round
them was emptiness and silence.

' But Menamun grasped me by the arm, and she
spoke faintly :

' " Now that all is done, I greatly fear for that which
has been, and that which shall he. Lead me hence,
Rei, son of Fames, for I can no more."

' And so with a heavy heart I led her forth, who of
all sorceresses is the very greatest. Behold, thou
Wanderer, wherefore the Queen w troubled at the
coming of the man in the armoui of the INortl . ;l
whose two-horned golden helm .stands last the pomt
of a broken spear,'

BOOK 11.

CHAPTER I.

THE PROPHETS OF THE APURA.

'These things are not without the Gods,' said the
Wanderer, who was called Ejeritus, when he had heard
all tlie t^de of Rei the Priest, son of Pames, the Head
Architect, the Commander of the Legion of Amen.
Then he sat silent for a while, and at last raised his
tyes and looked upon the old man.

' Thou hast told a strange tale, Rei. Ov( r many a
?('u have J wandered, and in many a Ihl I I have
sojourned. 1 liave seen the ways of many peoples, and
have heard the voices of the immortal Gods. Dreams
have come to me and marvels have compassed ine
about. Tt has been laid upon me to go down into
Hades, that Irnd which thou namest Amenti, and to
look on the tribes of the Dead ; but never till now have
I known so strange a thing. For mark thou, when
first I beheld this fair Queen of thine I thought she
looked upon me strangely, as one who knew my face.
And now, Rei, if thou speakest trutlj, she deems that
she has met me in the ways of night and magic.

THE WORIUS DESIRE.

Say, tlu'n, wlio was the iiiai »Ttlie vision of the Queen,
the man with dark and curlin^f locks, clad in I'olden
armour at'ter the I'asliion of tla- Acli*ans whom ye name
the Atjuaiuslia, wearing <»n lii3 head a golden helm,
wherein was fixed a broken spear ? '

* Before me sits such a man,' said Rei, ' oi perchance
it is a Ood that my eyes behold.'

' No God am I,' quoth the Wandercjr, smiling,
'though tlie Sidoniaus deemed mo nothing less when
the bliiok bow twanged and the swift shafts flew. Read
me the riddle, thou that art instructed.'

Now the aged Priest looked upon the ground, then
turned liis <^yes upward, and with muttering lips prayed
to Thoth, the God of Wisdom. And when he had made
an end of prayei* he spoke.

' Tho'u art the man,' he said. 'Out of the sea thou
hast come to bring the doom of love on the Lady
Meriamun and on thyself the doom «jf death. This 1
know, but of the rest I know nothing. Now, I pray
thee, oh thou who comest in the armour of the North,
thou whose face is clothed in beauty, and who art of all
men the mightiest and hast of all men the sweetest and
most guileful tongue, go back, go back into the sea
whence thou camest, and the lands whence thou hast
wander >.' ■

'Not thus easily may men escape their doom,' quoth
the Wanderer. ' My death may come, as come it must ;
but know this, Rei, I do not seek the love of Meriamun.'

' Then it well may chance that thou shalt find it, for
ever those who seek love lose, and those who seek not
find.'

THE rROPHETS OF THE APURA.

•>;>

'I am come to j»eek anotlier love,' said tlie WitiidcnT,
* and I seek her till 1 die.'

'Then I pray thf Gods that thou mayost find her,
and that Khem may thus be savc^j from sorrow. Hut
here in Egypt there is no woman so fair as Meriamun,
and thou must seek farther ascjuickly as may be. And
now, Eperitus, behold I must away to do service in the
Temple of the Holy Amen, for I am his High Priest.
But I am commanded by Pharaoh first to bring thee
to the feast at the Palace.'

Then he led the Wanderer from his chamber ard
brought him by a side entrance to the great Palace of
the Pharaoh at Tanis, near the Temple of Ptah. And
first he took him to a chamber that had been made
ready for him in the Palace, a beautiful chamber, ricVily
painted with beast-headed Guds and furnislied with
ivory chairs, and couches of ebony and silver, and with
a gilded bed.

Then the Wiuiderer went into the shining baths, and
dark-eyed girls bathed him and anointed \\\\\\ with
fragrant oil, and crowned him with . >t\is flowers. When
they had bathed him they bade hiri lay aside his
golden armour and hiy bow and the quiver full of
arrows, but this the Wanderer would not do, for as he
laid the black bow down it thrilled with a thin sound
of war. So Rei led him. armed as he was, to a certain
antechamber, and there he left him, saying that he
would return again when the feast was done. Trumpets
blared as the Wanderer waited, drums rolled, and
through the wide thrown curtains swept the lovely
Meriamun and the divinf' Pliaraoli Moiieptali, witli

THE WORLDS DESIRE.

many lords and ladies of the Court, jt'l crowned with
rofies and with lotus blooms.

Tht' Queen was derkcd in Royal attire, her shining
limbs were veiled in broidercMl silk ; about her shoulders
was a purple robe, and round her neck and arms were
rings of well-wrought gold. She was stately and
splendid to see, with pale brows and beautiful disdain-
ful eyes where dreams seemed to sleep beneath the
shadow of her eyelashes. On she swept in all her
state and pride of beauty, and behind her came the
Pharaoh. He was a tall man, but iP-made and heavy-
browed, and to the Wanderer it seemed that he was
heavy-hearted too, and that care and terror of evil
to come were always iij his mind.

Meriamun looked up swiftly.

'Greeting, Stranger,' she said. 'Thou comest in
warlike guise to grace our feast.'

' Methought, Royal Lady,' he made answer, ' that
anon when I would have laid it by, this bow of mine
sang to me of present war. Therefore I am come
arme<l — even to thy feast.'

'Has tliy bow such foresight, Eperitus?' said the
Queen. ' I have heard but once of such a weapon,
and that in a minstrel's tale. He came to our Couit
with his lyre from the Northern Sea, and he sang of
the Bow of Odysseus.'

'Minstrel or not, thou dost well to come armed,
Wanderer,' said the Pharaoh ; ' for if thy bow sings,
my own heart mutters much to me of 'var to be.*

'Follow me, Wanderer, however it fall out,' said the
Queen.

THE IROPllETS OF HIE APVRA.

So lie follownd her and the Phiiraoh t'U they ca.no to
a splendid hall, carven round with images of fighting
ad foaxting. Here, on the painted walls, Ranieses
iviiamun drove the thousands of the Khita before his
siiiglt; valour ; here men hunted wild -fowl throu,di the
niiUi'ies with a great cat for their hound. Never had
the Wanderer behkld such a hall since he supped with
the Sea King of the fairy isle. On the dais, raised
above the rest, sat the Pharaoh, and by him sat Meria-
mun the Queen, and by the Queen sat the Wanderer in
the golden armour of Paris, and he leaned the black bow
against his ivory chair.

Now the feast went on and men ate and drank. The
Queen spoke little, but she watched tlie \V;md( nr
beneath the lids of her deep-fringed eyes.

Suddenly, as they fejistcd and grew merry, the doois
at t!ie en<l of tlie chamber were thro>vn wide, the Guards
fell baek in fuar, and behold, at the end of the hall,
stood two men. Tht ir faces were tawny, dry, wasted
with desert wanderinti' ; their noses were hooked like
eagle's beaks, and their eyes were yellow as the eyes of
lions. Tiiey were clad in rough skins of bc^asts, girdled
about their waists with leathern thongs, and fiercely
tiiey lifted their naked arms, and waved their wands of
jedar. Both men were old, one was white-bearded, the
other was "haven smooth like the priests of Kgypt. As
they lifted the rods on high the Guards shrank like
beaten hounds, and all the guests hid their faces, .save
Meriamun and the Wanderer alone. Even Pharaoli
d:ir d not loo'c on them, but he uiumiured angrily in
I lis beard ;

(/,

THE WORLiys DESIRE.

'By the rmnip of OsiriH,' he s.-iul, 'hero be those
Sodtliaayors t»f the Aymm oncf; again. Now Death
waits oil tliDSc! who let them pass tlie doors.'

Tlien one of the two men, he who w.'us yhaveu like a
priest, eried with a great vuiru :

' rharaoh ! l%iraoh ! Pluirnoh ! llrarkeu wO the
word of .lahveh. Wilt thou K;t the pc^ople go?'

' I will not let them go,' h«' answered.

' Pharavh ! Phantoh ! Phnraoh ! Hearken to the
word of .Tahvcdi. If thou wilt not let the people j^o,
then shall all the first-born of Khem, of the Prince and
the slave, of the ox and the a.ss, be smitten of Jahveh.
Wilt thou let the people go ? '

Now Pharaoh hearketied, and those who were at the
feast rose ami cried with a loud voice :

'O Pharaoh, let the people go! Great woes are
fallen upon Khem because of the Apura. Pharaoh,
let the people go ! '

Now Pharaoh's heart was softened and Vie was
minded to let them go, but Meriamun turned to him
and said :

'Thou shalt not let the people go. It is not these
slaves, nor the God of these slaves, who bring the
plagues on Khem, but it is that strange Goddess, the
False Hathor, who dwells here in the city of Tanis. Be
not so fearful — ever hadst thou a coward heart. Drive
the B'alse Hathor hence if thou wilt, but hold these
slaves to their bondage. I still have cities that must
be built, and yon slaves shall build them.'

Then the Pharaoh cried . ' I'^enoe ! I bid you. Hence,
and to-morrow slia" your people N' laden with a double

THE PKOr/IETS OF 'J HE APURA

burden and their backs shall be red with ntripes. I
will n(»t let the people go ! '

Then the two men cried ftloud, and pointing upwan!
with their staiTs they vanished from the hall, and none
dared to lay hands on thern, but those who sat at the
feast murmured much.

Now the Wanderer marvt'lled why Pharaoh did not
command the Guards to cut down these unbidden
guests, who spoiled his festival. The Qiieen Meriamun
saw the wonder in his eyes and turned to him.

' Know thou, Eperitus,' she said, * that great plagues
have come of late on this land of ours — plagues of lice
and frogs and flies and darkness, and the clianging of
pure waters to blood. And these things our Lord the
Pharaoh deems have been brought upon us by the curse
of yonder magicians, conjurer^^ and priests anjong certain
slaves who work in the lai 1 at the building of our
cities. But I know well that the curses corne on us
from Hathor, the Lady of Love, because of that woman
who hath set heiseif up here in Tanis, and is wor-
shipped as the Hathor.'

'Why then, Queen,* said the Wanderer, 'is this
false Goddess suffered to abide in your fair city ? for, as
I know well, the immortal Gods are ever angered with
those who turn from their worship to bow before
strange altars.*

* Why is she suffered ? Nay, ask of Pharaoh my
Lord. Methinks it is because her beauty is more than
the beauty of women, so the men say who have looked
on it, but I have not seen it, for only those men see it
"who go to worship at her shrine, and then from af; r.

77//'.' llOh'I.D'S DESIRE.

It is not iiicet tliat the Qiiocn of all t.lio Lanck should
worsliij) at tlie sluirif of a stranj^e woman, come — like
thyself, EperiUia- -fioiii none knows where : if indeed
she be a woman and not a tiend IVom tlie Under World.
But if thou wouldest learn more, ask my Lord the
Pharaoh, for he knows the Slirine of the False ITatlior,
and he knows who guard il, an*! what is it that bars
the way.'

Now the Wanderer turned to Pharaoh saying: 'O
Pharaoh, may I know the truth of this mystery ?'

Then Meneptah looked up, and there was doubt and
trouble on his heavy face.

'I will tell thee readily, thou Wanderer, for per-
chance such a man aa tliou, who hast travelled in many
lands and seen the faces of many Cods, mny understand
the tale, and may help me. In the days of my father,
the holy Rameses Mianiun, the keepers of the Temple
of the Divine Hathor awoke, and lo ! in the Sanctuary
of the temple was a vvoma!i in the garb of the
Aquaiusha, who was Beauty's self. But when they
looked upon her, none could tell the semblance of her
beauty, for to one she seemed dark and to the other
fair, and to each man of them she showed a diverse love-
liness. She smiled upon them, and sang most sweetly,
and love entered their hearts, so that it seemed to each
man that she only was his Heart's Desire. But when
any man would have come nearer and embra'.ed her,
there was that about her which drove him back, and if
he strove again, behold, he fell down dead. So at last
they subdued their hearts, and desired her no more, but
worshipped her as the Hathor come to earth, and made

TirE PROPHETS O/' THE APl'RA

offwriiJijH of food ami drink to her, ami prayers. So
tliree years passed, atwl at the eml of tlie third year the
kei'pirs of the temple luokeil and the Ifatiior was ;,'oiie.
Nothing; reinaintjd of iier but a memory. Yet there
were some who said that this memory was dearer than
all else that the world has to give.

' Tw»inty more seasons went by, and I sat upon the
throne of my fatht r, and was Lord of the Double
Crown. And, on a day, a mes.s(!nger tiune running and
cried :

'" Now is Hathor come hack to Kliem, now is Hathor
come back to Khem, and, as of old, none may draw
n»,'ar her beauty ! " Then I went to see, and lo ! before
the Temple of Hattior a groat multitude wiis gathered,
and there on the pylon brow stood the Hathor's self
shining with changeful beauty like the JJawn. And as
of old she sang sweet songs, and, to each man who
heard, her voice was thi; voice of his own belove(J, living
and lost to him, or dead and lost. Now every man has
such a grave in his heart as that whence Hathor
seems to rise in changeful bjauty. Month by month
she sings thus, one day in every month, and many a
man has sought to win her and her favour, but in the
doorways are they who meet him ami press him back ;
and if he still stru^'gles on, there comes a clang of
swords and he falls dead, but no wound is found on
him. And, Wanderer, this is truth, for I myself have
striven and have been pressed back by that which
guards her. But I alone of men who have looked on
her and heard her, strove not a second time, and so
saved myself alive.'

lOO

THE WORLDS DESIRE.

' Thou aJone of men lovest lile more than the World's
Desire 1' said the Queen. 'Thou hast ever sickened
for the love of this strange Witch, but thy life thou
lovest even better than her beauty, and thou dost not
dare attempt again the adventure of her embrace.
Know, Eperitus, that this sorrow is come upon the land,
that all men love yonder witch and rave of her, and to
each she wears a different face and sings in another
voice. When she stands upon the pylon tower, then
thou wilt see the madness with which she has smitten
them. For they will weep and pray and tear their hair.
Then they will rush through the temple courts and up
to the temple doors, and be thrust ba^k again by that
which guards her. But some will yet strive madly on,
and thou wilt hear the clash of arms and thoy will fall
dead before thee. Accursed is the land, I tell thee,
Wanderer; because of that Phantom it is accursed.
For it is she who brings these woes on Khem; from
her, not from our slaves and their ma(i conjurers, come
plagues, I say, and all evil things. And till a man be
found who ^y pass her guard, and come face to face
with the witch and slay her, plagues and woes and evil
fh'ngs shall be the daily bread of Khem. Perchance,
Wanderer, thou art such a man, * and she looked on
ItliB strangely. 'Yet if so, this is my counsel, that
thou go not up against her, lest thou also be bewitched,
and a great man be lost to us.*

Now the Wanderer turned the matter over i»i his
heart and made answer: *

' Perchance, Lady, my strength and the favour of the
Gods might serve nie in such a (juest. But methinks

THE PROP ME rs OF THE A PVR A.

ICI

that this woman is meeter for words of love and the
kisses of men than to be slain with the sharp sword, if,
imieed, she be not of the number of the immortals.'

Now Meriamun flushed and frowned.

' It is not fitting so to talk before me,' she said. ' Of
this be sure, that if the Witch may be come at, she
shall be slain and given to Osiris for a bride/

Now the Wanderer saw that the Lady Meriamun
was jealous ci the beauty and renown and love of her
who dwelt in the temple, and was called the Strange
Hathor, and he held his peace, for he knew when to be
silent.

CHAPTER II.

THE NIGHT OF DREAD.

The feast dragged slowly on," for Fear was of the
company. The men and women were silent, and when
they drank, it was as if one had poured a little oil on a
dying fire. Life flamed up in them for a moment, their
laughter came like the crackling of thorns, and then
they were silent airain. Meanwhile the Wanderer
drank little, waiting to see what should come. But the
Queen was watching him whom already her heart
desired, and she only of all the company had pleasiire
in this bancpiet. Suddenly a side-door opened behinu
the dais, there was a stir in the hall, each guest turning
his head fearfully, for all expected some evil tidings.
But it was only the entrance of those who bear about
i^i the feasts of Egypt an eftigy of the Dead, the likeness
of a mummy carved in wood, and who cry : ' Drink, O
King, and be glad, thou shalt soon be even as he !
Drinlr, and be glad.' The stiff, swathed figure, with
its folded hands and gilded face, was brought before the
Pharaoh, and Meneptah, who had aat long in sullen
brooding silence, started when lie looked on it. Then
he broke into an angry laugh.

THE NIGHT OF DREAD.

103

' We have little need of thee to-night,' he cried,
as he sahited the symbol of Osiris. ' Death is near
enough, we want not thy silent preaching. Death,
Death is near ! '

He fell back in his gilded chair, and let the cup drop
from his hand, gnawing his beard.

' Art thou a man ? ' spoke Meriamun, in a low clear
voice ; ' are you men, and yet afraid of what comes to
all ? Is it only to-night that we first hear the name of
Death ? Remember the great Men-kau-ra, remember
the old Pharaoh who built the Pyramid of Hir. He
was just aud kind, and he feared the Gods, and for his
reward they showed him Death, coming on him in six
short years. Did he scowl and tremble, like all of you
to-night, who are scared by the threats of slaves ? Nay,
he outwitted the Gods, he made night into day, he lived
out twice his years, with revel and lovo and wine in the
lamp-lit groves of persea trees. Come, my guests, let
us be merry, if it be but for an hour. Drink, and be
brave ! '

' For once thou speakest well,' said the King.
' Drink and forget ; the Gods who give Death give
wine,' aud his angry eyes ranged through the hall, to
seek some occasion of mirth and scorn.

* Thou Wanderer ! ' he said, suddenly. ' Thou
drinkest not : I have watched thee as the cups go
round ; what, man, thou comest from the North, the
sun of thy pale land has not heat enough to foster the
vine. Thou seemest cold, and a drinker of water; why
wilt thou be cold before thine hour ? Come, pledge
me in the red wine of Khem. Bring forth the cup of

104

THE WORLDS DESIRE.

Pasht ! ' he cried to them who waited, ' bring forth the
cup of Pasht, the King drinks ! *

Then the chief butler of Pharaoh wtint to the treasure-
house, and came again, bearing a huge golden cup,
fashioned in the form of a lion's head, and holding
twelve measures of wine. It was an ancient cup, sacred
to Pasht, and a gift of the Rutennu to Thothmes, the
greatest of that name.

'Fill it full of unmixed wine!' cried the King.
' Dost thou grow pale at the sight of the cup, thou Wan-
derer from the North ? T pledge thee, pledge thou me ! '

'Nay, King,' said the Wanderer, ^I have tasted
wine of Ismarus before to-day, and I have drunk with
a wild host, the ()ne-eye<l Man Eater ! ' For his heart
was argered by the Kmg and he forgot his wisdom, but
the Queen marked the saying,

•Then pledge me in the cup of Pasht!* quoth the
King.

' I pray thee, pardon me/ said the Wanderer, ' for
wine makes wise men foolisli and strong men weak, and
to-night methinks we shall need our wits and our
strength.'

* Craven ! ' cried the Rmg, ' give me the bowl. I
drink to thy better courage. Wanderer,' and lifting the
great golden cup, he stood up and drank it, and then
dropped staggering into his chair, his head fallen on his
breast.

' I may not refuse a King's challenge, though it is ill
to contend with our hosts,' said the Wanderer, turning
somewhat pale, for he was in anger. 'Give me the
bowl !

THE NIGHT OF DREAD.

105

He took the <^np aud held it high; then pouring a
little forth to his Gods, he said, in a clear voice, for he
was stirred to anger beyond his wont :

* / drink to the Strange Hathor ! '

He spoke, and drained the mighty cup, aud set it
down on the board, and even as he laid down the cu]),
and as tho Queen looked at him with eyes of wrath,
there came from the bow beside bis seat a faint shrill
sound, a ringing and a singing of the bow, a noise ol
running strings and a sound as of rushing arrows.

The warrior heard it, and his eyes burned with the
light of battle, for he knew well that the swift shafts
should soon fly to the hearts of the doomed. Pharaoh
awoke and heard it, and heard it the Lady Meriamun
the Queen, and she looked on the Wanderer astonished,
and looked on the bow that sang.

* The minstrel's tale was true ! This is none other
but the Buw of Odysseus, the sAcker of cities,' said
Meriamun. ' Hearken thou, Epei itus, thy great bow
sings aloud. How conies it that thy bow sings?*

* For this cause, Queen,' said the Wanderer; 'because
birds gather on tlie Bridgt^ of W^ar. Soon shall shafts
be flying and gliosts go down to doom. Summon thy
Guards, I bid thee, for foes are near.'

Terror conquered the drankemiess of Pharaoh; he
bade the Guards who stodi behind his chair summon
all their company. They went forth, aud a great hush
fell again upon the Hall of Bantjuets and upon those
who sat at meat therein. The silence grew dendly still,
like air before the thunder, an.l n^ 'ti'.s hearts sau'.v
within them, and turned to ssixi^tv in their breasts.

io6

TIJE WORLD'S DESIRE.

Only Odysseus wondered and tlio'ight on the battle to
be, thougii whence the foe might come he knew not,
and Meriamun sat erect in her ivory chair and looked
down the glorious liall.

Deeper grew the silence and deeper yet, and more
and more the cloud of fear gathered in the hearts o^
men. Then suddenly through all the hall there was a
rush like the rush of mighty wings. The deep found-
ations of the Palace rocked, and to the sight of men the
roof above seemed to burst asunder, and lo ! above
them, against the distaLce of the sky, there swept a
shape of Fear, and the stars shone through its raiment.

Then the roof closed in again, and for a moment's
space once more there was silence, whilst men hooked
with white faces, each on each, and even the stout heart
of the Wanderer stood still.

Then suddenly all adown the hall, from this place
and from that, men rose up and with one great cry fell
down dead, this one across the board, and that one on
the floor. The Wanderer grasped his bow and counted.
From among those who sat at meat twenty and one
had fallen dead. Yet those w'ho lived sat gazing
emptily, for so stricken with fear were they that scarce
did each one know if it was he himself who lay dead
or his brother who had sat by his side.

But Meriamun looked down the hall with cold eyes,
for she feared neither Death nor Lite, nor God nor man.

And while she looked and while the Wanderer
counted, there rose a faint murmuring sound from the
city without, a sound that grew and giew, the thunder
of myriad feet that run before tlie death of kings. Then

THE NIGHT OF DREAD,

107

the doors burst asunder and a woman ^v^\ through
them in her night robes, and in her arms she bore the
naked body of a boy.

'Pharaoh!' she cried, 'Pharaoh, and thou, O
Queen, look upon thy son — thy firstborn son — dead is
thy son, O Pharaoh ! Dead is thy sou, Queen ! In
my arms he died suddenly as I lulled hiiu to his rest,'
and she laid the body of the child down on the board
among the vessels of gold, among the garlands of lotus
flowers and the beakers of rose-red wine.

Then Pharaoh rose and rent his purple robes and
wept aloud Meriamun rose too, and lifting the body
of her son clasped it to her breast, and her eyes were
terrible with wrath and grief, but she wept not.

' See now the curse that this evil woman, this False
Hathor, liath brought upon us,' she said.

But the very guests sprang up crying, * It is not the
Hathor whom we worship, it is not the Holy Hatlior, it
is the Gods of those dark Apura whom tliou, Queen,
wilt not let go. On thy head and the head of Pharaoh
be it,' and even as they cried the murmur without
grew to a shriek of woe, a shriek so wild and terrible
that the Palace walls rang. Again that sh^-iek rose,
and yet a third time, never was such a cry heard in
Egypt. And now for the first time in all his days the
face of the Wanderer grew white witb fear, and in fear
of heart he prayed for succour to liis Goddess — to
Aphrodite, the daughter of Dione.

Again the doors behind them burst open and the
Guards flocked in — mighty men of many foreign lands ;
but now their faces were wan, their eyes stared wide.

io8

THE WORLD'S DESIRE.

and th«ir jaws hui»g down But at the sound of the
clanging of their harness the strength of the Wanderer
came hack to him again, for the Gods and their venge-
ance he feare(i, but not the sword of man. And now
once more the biw sang aloud. He grasped it, he bent
it with liis ntiight/ knee, and strung it, crying :

' Awake, Pharaoh, awake 1 Foes draw on. Say, be
these all the men ? '

Then the Captain answered, 'These be all of the
Guard who are left living in the Palace. The rest are
stark, smitten by the angry Gods.'

Now as the Captain spake, one came running up the
hall, heeding neither the dead ncr the living It was
the old priest Rei, the Commander of the Legion of
Amen, whc; had boen the Wanderer's guide, and his
looks were wild with fear.

'Hearken, Pharaoh!' he cried, 'thy people lie dead
by thousands in the streets — the houses are full of dead.
In the Temples of Ptah and of Amen many of the
priests have fallen dead also.'

' Hast thou more to tell, old man ? ' cried the
Queen.

'The tale has not all been told, O Queen. The
soldiers are mad with fear and with the sight of death,
and slay their captains ; barely have I escaped from
those in my command of the Legion of Amen. For
they swear that this death has been brought upon the
land because Pharaoh will not let the Apura go.
Hither, then, they come to slay Pharaoh, and thee also,
O Queen, and with tliem come many thousands of
people, catching up such arms as lie to their hands.*

THE NIGHT OF DREAD,

109

Now Pharaoh sank down groaning, but the Queen
spake to the Wanderer:

'Anon thy weapon sang of war, Eperitus; now war
is at the gates.'

' Little I fear the rush of battle and the blows men
deal in anger. Lady,' he made answer, ' though a man
may fear the Gods without shame. Ho, Guards ! close
up, close up round me ! Look n( so pale-faced now
death from the Gods is done with, and we have but to
fear the sword of men.'

So great was his mien and so glorious hia face as he
cried thus, and oae by one drew his long arrows forth
and laid them on the board, that the trembling Guards
took heart, and to the number of fifty and one ranged
themselves on the edge of the dais in a double line.
Then they also made ready their bows and loosened the
arrows in their quivers.

Now from without there came a roar of men, and
anon, while those of the house of Pharaoh, and of the
guests and nobles, who sat at the feast and yet lived,
fled behiuil the soldiers, the brazen doors were burst in
with mighty blows, and through them a great armed
multitude surged along the hall. There came soldiers
broken from their ranks. There came the embalmers
of the Dead ; their hands were overfull of work to-night,
but they left their work undone; Death had smitten
some even of these, and their fellows did not shrink
back from them now. There came the smith, black
from the forge, and the scribe bowed with endless
writing ; and the dyer with his purple iiands, and the
fisher from the stream ; and the stunted weaver from

■ .ijl.'i >1l

THE WORLD'S DESIRE,

the loom, and the loper from the Temple gates. They
were mad with lust of lifo, .1 starvehng life that the
King haxi taxed, wlieii he let not the Apura go. They
were mad with fear of death ; their women followed
them with dead children in tht.'ir arms. They smote
down the golden furnishings, they tore thu silken
hangings, they cast the empty cups of the feast at the
faces of tremhling ladies, and cried aloud for the blood
of the King.

' Where is Pharaoh ? ' th(^y yelled, ' show us Pharaoh
and the Queen Meriainun, that we may slay them.
Dead are our firstborn, tliey lie in heaps as the tish lay
when Sihor ran red witli blood. IJead are they because
of the curse that lias been brought upon us by the
prophets of the Apura, whom Pharaoh, and Pharaoh's
Queen, yet hold in Khem.'

Now as they cried they saw Pharaoh Meneptah
cowering behind the double line of Guanls, and they
saw the Queen Meriamun who cowered not, but stood
silent above the din. Then she thrust her way through
the Guards, and yet holding tlie body of the child to
her breast, siie stood before them with eyes that flashed
more brightly than the uraeus crown upon her
brow.

* Back ! ' she cried, ' back ! It is not Pharaoh, it is
not I, who have brought this death upon you. For we
toe have death here ! ' and she hold up the body of her
dead son. * It is that False Hathor whom ye worship,
that Witch of many a voice and many a face who turns
your hearts faint with love. For her sake ye endure
these woes, on h^r hoad is all this death. Go, tear her

THE NIGHT OF DKEAIX

tii

temple storu; from atone, and roiul lier l>eaiity limb tVom
limb, and be avengetl and free the land from curses.'

A moment the jwHtple stood and hearkenetl, muttering,
as stands the lion that is about to spring, while those
v/ho pressed without tried : ' Forward ! F(jrward ! Slay
them ! Slay them ! ' Then as with one voice they
screamed :

'The Hathor we love, but you we hate, for ye have
brought these wot.-s upon us, and ye shall die.*

They cried, they brawled, they cast footstools and
stones at the Guards, and then a certain tall man among
them drew a bow. Straight at the Queen's fair breast
he aimed his arrow, nnd swift and tiue it s|)ed toward
her. She saw the light gleam upon its sliining barb,
and then she did what no woman but Meriamun would
have done, no, not to save herself from death — she held
out the naked body of her son as a warrior holds a
shield. The arrow struck through and tli rough it,
j>ieicing the tender flesh, aye, and pricked her breast
beyond, so that she let t e dead boy fall.

The Wanderer saw it and wondered at the horror of
the deed, for he had seen no such deed in all Ids
days. Then shouting aloud the terrible war-cry of tlie
Achaeans he leapt upon the board before him, and as
he leapt his golden armour clanged.

Glancing around, he fixed an airow to the string and
drew to his ear that great bow which none t it he
might so much as beml. Then as he loosed, the atiing
sang like a swallow, and the siiaft screamed through
the air. Down the glorious hall it sped, and full on
the breast of him who had lifted bow against ' * ' \eett

ttt

THE WORLDS DEStRE.

the bitter arrow e truck, nor iiiit^ht his harness avail to
stay it. Throujrji the body of him it passetl and with
bluod-reti feathers flew on, and smote another wlio
stood behind him so that his knees also were lou-ened,
and together they fell dead \x\m\ the floor.

Now while the people stared and wondered, afjain
the bow-string sang like a swallow, again the arrow
screamed in its flight, and h»? who stood before it got
his death, for the sliield he bore was pinned to his bn^ast.

Tlien wonder turned to rage ; the multitude rolled
forward, anrl from either side the air grew dark with
arrows. For the Guards at sight of tlie shooting of the
Wanderer found heart and fought well and manfully.
Boldly also the slayers came on, and behind them
pressed many a hundred mun. The Wanderer's golden
helm flashed steadily, a braeon in the storm. Black
smoke burst out in the hall, the hnngings flamed and
tossed in a wind from the open door. The lights were
struck from the lian<ls of the golden images, arrows
stood thick in the tables and the rafters, a spear pierced
through the golden cup of Pasht. But out cf the
darkness and smoke and dust, and the cry of battle, and
thrc 'gh the rushing of the rain of spears, sang the
swallow string of tbe black bow of Eurytus, and the
long shafts shrieked as they sped on them who were
ripe to die. In vain did the arrows of the slayers smite
upon that golden harness. They were but as hail upon
Uke temple roofs, but as driving snow upon the wild
stag's horns. They struck, they rattled, and down they
dropped like snow, or bounded back and lay upon the
board.

THE NIGHT OF DREAD,

113

The swallow string sang, tho black bow twanged, and
the bitter aiTows shriekeil aa they flow.

Now the Wanderer's shafts were spent, and he
judged that their case was desperate. For out of tlie
doors of the hall that wen- behind them, and from the
cliaiiibers of the women, armed men burst in also, taking
thcra on the flank and rear. But the Wiuuh.'rer was
old in war, and without a match in all its ways. The
Captain of the Guard was slain with a spear stroke,
and the Wanderer took his place, calling to the men,
such of them as were left alive, to form a circle on the
dais, and within the circle he set tho>e of the house of
Pharaoh and the women who were at the feast And
to Pharaoh he cast a slam man's sword, biddinj,^ him
strike ^ » life an«l throne if he never struck before ; but
the heart was out of Pharaoh because of the death of
his son, and the wine about his wits, and the terrors he
had seen. Then Meriamun the Queen suai lied the
aword from his trembling hand and stood holding it to
guard her life. For she disdained to crouch upon the
ground as did the other women, but stood upright
behind the Wanderer, and heeded not the spears and
arrows that dealt death on every hand. But Pharaoh
stood, his face buried in his hands.

Now the slayers came on, shouting and clambering
upon the dais. Then the Wanderer rushed on them
with sword drawn, and shield on high, and so swift he
smote that men might not guard, for they saAv, as it
were, three blades aloft at once, and the silver-hafted
sword bit deep, the gift of Phaeaciaii '^ur\alus long ago.
The Guards also smote and thrust ; it was for llu'ir lives

114

THE IVORLiys DESIRE.

they fought, ami back rolled the ti<le of foes, leaving a
swatlie of (lead. So a second time they came on, and a
second time were rolled back.

Now of the defenders few were left unhurt, and their
strength was well-nigh spent. But the Wanderer
cheered them with great wonls, though his heart grew
feaiful for the end ; and Mfiriamun the Queen al-o bade
them to be of good couiag(j, and if need were, to die
like men. Then once again the wave of War rolled in
upon them, and the strife grow fierce and desperate.
The iron hedge of spears was well-nigh broken, and
now the W^anderer, doing such deeds as had not been
known in Khem, stood alone between Meriamun tlie
Queen and the swords that thirsted for her life and
the life of Pharaoh. Then of a sudden, from far down
the great hall of banquets, there came a loud cry that
shrilled above the clash of swords, the groans of men,
and all the din of battle,

' Pharaoh ! Pharaoh ! Pharaoh ! rose a voice.
* Now wilt thou let the people go ? '

Then he who smote staved his hand and he
who guarded dropped his shield. The battle ceased
and all turned to look. There at the end of the
hall, among the dead and dying, there stood the two
ancient men of the Apura, and in their hands were
cedar rods.

' It is the Wizards — the Wizards of the Apura,' men
cried, and shrunk this way and that, thinking no more
on war.

The ancient m'^n drew nigh. They took no heed of
the dying or the dead : on they walked, through, blood

THE NIGHT OF DREAD.

115

and wine and fallen tables and scattered arms, till they
stood before the Pharaoh.

'Fharaoh! Pharaoh! Pharaoh!' the> cried agrain.
' Dead are tho first-born of Khem at the hand of Jahveh.
Wilt thou let the people go ? '

Then Pharaoh lifted his face and cried :

'Get you gone— \ou and all that is yours. Get
vou gone swiftly, and let Khera see your face no

more.

The people heard, and the living left the hall, and
silence fell on the city, and on the dead who died of
tl.o sword, and the dead who died of the pestilence.
Silence fell, and sleep, and the Gods' best gift-
forget fulness. ■,

CHAPTER III.

THE BATHS OF BRONZE.

Even out of this night of dread the morning rose, and
with it came Rei, bearing a message from the King.
But he did not find the Wanderer in his chamber. The
Palace eunuchs said that he had risen and had asked
for Kurri, the Captain of the Sitioniana, who was now
the Queen's Jeweller. Thither Rei went, for Kurri was
lodged with the servants in a court of the Royal House,
and as the old man came he heard the sound of ham-
mers beating on metal. There, in the shadow which
the Palace wall cast into a little court, there was the
Wanderer ; no longer m his golden mail, but with bare
arms, and dressed in such a light smock as the workmen
of Khem were wont to wear.

The W^anderer was bending over a small brazier,
whence a flame and a light blue smoke arose and melted
into the morning light. In his hand he held a small
hammer, and he had a little anvil by him, on which lay
one of the golden sho'Tlder-plates of his armour. The
other pieces were heaped beside the brazier. Kurri,
the Sidonian, stood beside him, with graving tools in
his hands.

THE BA TIIS OF BROXZE

117

' Hail to thee, Epeiilus," cried Rei, calling him by the
name he had chosen to give himself. * What makost
thou here with fire and anvil ? '

' I am but furbishing up my armour,* said the
Wanderer, smiling, 'It has more than one dint from
the fight in the hall;' and he pointed to his shield,
whi<;h was deeply scarred across the blazon of the White
Bull, the cognizance of dead Paris, Priam's son.
' Sidonian, blow up the fire.'

Kurri crouched on his hams and blew the blaze to a
white heat with a pair of leathern bellows, whih: tiic
Wanderer fitted the plates and hammered at them on
the anvil, making the jointures smooth and strong,
talking meanwhile with Rei.

' Strange work for a prince, as thou must be in Alybas,
whence thou comest,' quoth Rei, leaning on his long
rod of cedar, headed with an apple of bluestone.
' In our country chiefs do not labour with their
hands.*

' Different lands, different ways,* answered Eperitus.
'In my country men wed not their sisters as your kings
do, though, indeed, it comes into my mind that once I
met such brides in my wanderings in the isle of the
King of the Winds/

For the thought of the vEolian isle, where King
/Eolus gave him all the winds in a bag, came into his
meiuory.

' My hands can serve me in every need,' he went on.
* Mowing the deep green grass in spring, or driving
oxen, or cutting a clean furrow with the plough in
heavy soil, or building houses and ships, or doing smith's

■\

ii8

THE WORlJys DESIRE.

work with <^<S[(\ ;uul brotizc atul gniy iron — they are all
i>uo to me.'

'Or the work of war,' suid Roi. 'For therfi I hnve
seeti tht'o labour. Nnw, iistin, thou Wamleror, the
King Mi'iit'ptah aud the Queeu Meriainun send me to
thee with this scroll of their will/ aud he ilrew forth a
roll of papyrus, botiud with t^oldtMi threads, and held it
on his forelu'Md, bowing', as if he prayed.

' Wl)at is ihat roll of thine?' saitl the Wanderer,
who was hammering at the bronze spear-point, that
stood fast in :iis helm.

Rei undi(l the golden threads and opened the scroll,
which he gave into the Wanderer's hantl.

' Gods I What have we here (' ' slid \\w Wanderer.
'Here are pictures, tiny and cunningly drawn, scrptiiits
in red, and little figures of men sitting or standing, axes
aud snakes and birds and beetles ! My father, what
tokens are theses and he gave the scroll back to Rei.

'The King has made his Chief Scribe write to thee,
naming thee Captain of the Legion of Pasht, tlh- Cuard
of the Royal House, for last night the Captain was
slain. He gives thee a high title, and he promises thee
houses, lands, and a city of the South to furnish thee
with wine, and a city of the North to furnish thee with
corn, if thou wilt be his servant.'

' Never have I served any m;in,' said the Wanderer,
tlushing red, ' though I went near to being sold and to
knowing the day of slavery. The King does me too
much honour.'

'Thou wouldest fain begone from Khem ? ' asked the
old nun I, eagerly.

TJIE liATIIS OF l^NON/.E

119

*T would luin tind lu»r I <aiu<' to sj-ck, vvlicrevtir slio
bo,' said the Wandoror. ' Here or <j(.lM'rwlii're.'
'Then, what answer sluill I e.irry to tlie Kin|^'?*
' Time hrii).*j[s thou«,dit,' said tht; Wanihrrr ; ' I would
see tlie city it" thou wilt j^uide ine. Mjmy <;ities have

but

seen, Dui none so ^iviit as this. As W(! walk 1 will
consider liiy answer to your Kinjji.'

H(^ liad been working wi his h( Ini as h(^ spoke, for tin;
rest of his armour was now nuMulcd. He had drawn
out tlie sharp spear-head of bronze, an<l was balaucino
it in his hand and trying its edge.

• A good blade,' he said ; ' bett(!r was never liammered.
It went near to doing its work, Si( Ionian,' and he
turned to Kurri as he sp(»ke. 'Two things of thine 1
had: thy life and thy spear-point. Thy life I gave*
thee, thy s])ear- point tliou didst lend rne. Here, take
it again,' and he tossed the spear- head to the Queen's
Jewreller.

' 1 thank thee, lord,' answcjred the Sidonian, thrusting
it in his girdle; but he muttered b«;tween his teeth,
' The gifts of enemies are gifts of evil,'

The Wanderer did on his mall, set the helmet on his
head, and spoke to R(o. ' Conie forth, friend, and show
me thy city.'

But Rei was watchitjg the smile on the face of the
Sidonian, and he deemed it cruel and crafty and warlike,
like the laugh of the Sanlana of the sea. He said
noujght, but called a guard of soldiers, and with the
Wanderer he passed the Palace gates and went out into
the city.

The sight was strange, and it was nut thus that the

lao

THE WORLirs DESIRE.

ohl man, wbo loved his lurid, would have had the
Wanderer see it.

From all th<' wealthy liouses, and from many of the
poorer sort, rang the wail of the women mourners as
they sang their dirges for the dead.

But m the meaner quarters many a hovel was
marked with three smet-rs of blood, dashed on each
pillar of the dooi and on the lintel ; and the sound that
f'anie from these dwellings was the cry of mirth and
festival. There were two peoples ; one laughed, one
lamented. And in and out of the houses marked with
tl)e splashes of blood women were ever going with
empty hands, or coming with hands full of jewels, of
gold, of silver rings, of cups, and purple stuffs. Elmpty
they went out, laden they came in, dark men and
w omen with keen black eyes and the features of birds of
prey. They went, they came, they clamoured with delight
among the mourning of the men and women of Khem,
and none laid a hand on them, none refused them.

One tall fellow snatched at the staff of Rei.

' Lend me thy staff, old man,' he said, sneering;
' lend me thy jewelled staff' for my journey. I do but
borrow it ; win ;i Yak^b comes from the desert thou
shalt have it again.'

But the Wanderer turned on the fellow with^ such a
glance that he fell back.

' I have seen thee, before,' he said, and he laughed
over his shoulder as he went ; ' I saw thee last night at
the feast, and heard thy great bow sing. Thou art not
of the folk of Khem. They are a gentle folk, and
Yakiib wins favour in their sight.'

- 1

THE BATHS OF BRO.W.E

I 2\

' What passes now in this haunted land of thino, nh\
man?' said the Wanderer, 'for of all tlie sights that I
have seen, this is the strangest. None lifts a hand to
save his goods from the thief.' ^

Rei the Priest groaned aloud.

'Evil days have come upon Khem,' he said. 'The
Apura spoil the people of Khem ere they fly into the
Wilderness.'

Even as he spoke there came a great lady wee)>ing,
for her husband was dead, and her son and her brother,
all were gone in the breath of the pestilence. She was
of tlie Royal House, anfl richly deckel with gold and
jewels, and the slaves who fanned her, as she went to
the Temple of Ptah to worsliip, wore gold chains upon
their necks. Two women of the Apura saw her and
ran to her, crying :

' Lend to us those golden ornaments thou wearest.*

Then, without a word, she took her gold bracelets
and chains and rings, and let them all fall in a heap at
her feet. The women of the Apura took them all and
mocked her, crying :

* Where now is thy husband and thy son and thy
brother, thou who art of Pharaoh's house ? Now thou
payest us for the labour of our hands and for the bricks
that we made without straw, gathering leaves and
rushes in the sun. Now thou payest for the stick in
the hand of the o/erseers. Where now is thy hiisbnnd
and thy son and thy brother ? ' and they went slill
mocking, and left the lady weeping.

But of all si;jhts the Wanderer held this the strauij^est,
and manv surh there were to see. At rirst he would

122

THE WORLD'S DESIRE.

have taken bark thr s|)oil and given it to those who
wore it, but Rei th(3 Pricnt prayed liini to forbear, lest
the curse should stiike them also. So they pressed on
through the tumult, ever seeing new sights of greed
and death and sorrow. Here a mother wept over her
babe, here; a bride over her husband — that night the
groom of her and of death. Here the fierce-faced
Apura, clamouring like gulls, tore the silver trinkets
from the children of thuse of the baser sort, or the
sacred amulets i'rom the mummies of those who were
laid out for burial, and here a water-carrier wailed over
the carcass of the ass that won him his livelihood.

At length, passing through the crowd, they came to a
temple that stood near to the Temple of the God Ptah.
The pylons of this temple faced towards the houses of
the city, but the inner courts were built against the
walls of Tanis and looked out across the lace of the
water. Though nor, one of the largest temples, it was
very strong and beautiful in its shape. It was built
of the black stone of Syene, and all the polished face
of the stone was graven with images of the Holy
Hathor. Here she wore a cow's head, and here the
face of a woman, but she always bore in her hands
the lotus- headed staff and the holy token of life,
and her neck was encircled with the collar of the
gods,

'Here dwells that Strange Hathor to whom tliou
didst drink last night, Eperitus,' said Rei the Priest.
• It was a wild pledge to drink before th6 Queen, who
swears that she brings these woes on Kliem. Though,
indeed, she is guiltless of this, with all the blood on

THE BATHS OF BROIV/E,

i«3

her beautiful head. Tlu» Apura and thoir nnostnte sor-
cerer, whom we ourselves instructed, biing thu plagues
on us.'

' Does the Haihor manifest h(;rself tliis day ? ' asked
the Wanderer.

' That we will ask of the priests, Eperitus. Follow
thou me.'

Now they passed down the avenue of sphinxes within
the wall of brick, into the garden plot of the Goddess,
and so on through the gates of the outer tower. A
priest who watched there threw them wide at the sign
that was given of Rei, the Master Builder, the beloved
of Pharaoh, and they came to the outer court. Before
the second tower they halted, and Rei showed to the
Wanderer that place upon the pylon roof where the
Hathor was wont to stand and sing till the hearers'
hearts were melted like wax. Here they knocked once
more, and were admitted to the Hall of Assembly where
the priests were gathered, throwing dust upon their
heads and mourning those among them wiio had died
with the Firstborn. When they saw Rei, the instructed,
the Prophet of Amen, and the Wanderer clad in golden
armour who was with him, they ceased from their
mourning, and an ancient priest of their number came
forward, and, greeting Rei, asked him of his errand.
Tiien Rei took the Wanderer by the hand and made
him known to the priest, and told him of those deeds
that he had done, and how he had saved the life of
Pharaoh and of those oi the Royal House who sat at
he feast with Pharaoh,

' But when will the Lady Hathor sing upon her tower

124

THE woRfjys nr.siNE.

(op r said Rci, ' for the SLniii;,ft?r desires to see her aud
hear her.'

Tht! temple priest bowed before the Wanderer, and
answered {gravely :

' Oil tlie third mom fmm now the Holy Hathor shows
herself upon the temple's ,,«>y),' he said; 'but thou,
mighty lord, who art risen from the se.i, heaiken to my
warning, and if, indeed, thou art no god, dare not Xai
look upon her beauty. If thou dosL look, then thy fate
shall be as the fate of those who have looked before,
aud have loved and have died for the sak") of the
Hathor.'

'No god am I,' said the Wanderer, laughing, 'yet,
perchance, I shall dare to look, and dare to face what-
ever it be that guards her, if ray heart bids rae see her
nearer.'

' Then there shall be an end of thee and thy
vranderings,' said the priest. ' Nv)W follow me, and I
will show thee those men who last soujjjht to win the
Hathor/

He took him by the hantl and led hiiu through
passages hewn in the walls till they came to a deep aud
gloomy cell, where tlie golden armour of the Wanderer
shone like a lamp at eve. The (^ell was built against
the city wall, and scarcely a thread of light came into
the chink between roof and wall. All about the
chamber were baths fasliioned of bronze, and in the
baths lay dusky shapes of dark-skiimed men of Egypt.
There they lay, and in the fiiint light their limbs were
being anointed by some sad-faced attendants, as folk
were anointed by merry girls in the shining baths of

THE BATHS OF BRONZE.

'25

the Wanderer's home. When Rei and Epcrituf" cante
near, the sad-faced bath-men shrank away in shame,
as dogs shrink from their evil meal at night when a
traveller goes past.

Marvelling at the strange sight, the bfithers and the
bathed, the Wanderer looked more closoly and his stout
heart sank within him. For all these were dead who
lay in the baths of bronze, and it was not water that
flowed about their limbs, but evil-smelling natron.

' Here lie those,' said the priest, ' who last strove to
come near the Holy Hathor, and to pass into the shrine
of the temple where night and day she sits and sings
and weaves with her golden shuttle. Here thoy lie,
the half of a score. One by one they rushed to embrace
her, and one by one they were smitten down. Here
they are being attired for the tomb, for we give them
all rich burial.'

* Truly,' quoth the Wanderer, ' I left the world of
Light beiiind rae when I looked on the blood -red sea
and saileil into the black gloom off' Pharos. M«)re evil
sights have I seen in this haunted land than in all the
cities wli re I have wandered, and on all the seas that
I have sailed.'

• Then be warned,' said the priest, ' for if thou dost
follow where they went, and desii'e what they desired,
thou too shalt lie in yond(?r bath, and be washed of
yonder waters. For whatever be false, this is true, that
he who seeks love ofttimes finds doom. Rut here he
finds it most speedily.' •

The Wanderer looked again at the dead and at their
ministers, and he shud('tred till his harness rattled.

! ■

rilR WORfjys DESIRE.

\\v feared not tluj fuec; of Dcfitli in war, or ou tlie sea
but this was a new thing. Little he loved the si;,d»t of
the bra^'en hatha and thos<> who hiy there. The lij^ht
of the sun and tfio breath ot air seemed good to him,
and he stepiwid (juickly from the chamber, while tlie
priest smih'd to himanlf. Hut wlien he reaclh-'d the
outer air, his lieart cai.ie back to him, and he began to
ask again about the Ftathor — where she dwelt, and what
it was that «le\v lier lovers.

' I will show thee,' answered the priest, and brought
him through the Hail nf Assembly to a certain narrow
way that led to a court, [n the centre of the court
stood the holy shrine of the Hatlior. It wtis a gren,t
chamber, built of alabaster, lighted from the roof alone,
and shut in with brazen doors, before which hung
curtains of Tyrian web. From the roof of the shrine a
stairway ran overhead to the roof of the temple and ;"
to the inner j)ylon tower,

'Yonder, Stranger, tlu; holy Goddess dwells within
the Alabaster Shrine,' said the priest. ' By that stair
she passes to the temple roof, and thence to tbe pylon
top. There by the curtains, once in every day, we
place food, and it is diawn into the sanctuary, how we
know not, for none of us have set foot there, nor seen
the Hathor face to face. Now, when the Goddess has
stood upon the pylon and sung to the multitude below,
she passes back to tlie shrine. Then the brazen outer
doors of the temple court are thrown wide and the
doomed rush on madly, one by one, towards the drawn
curtails. But before they pass the curtains they are
thrust back, yet they strive to pass. Then we hear a

THE BATHS OF HROXAE.

137

Round of tlio clnahiuj^ of wcupuna aiul tlio men tall «lt^';i<l
>vithout a word, while tlio son^ of tlui Kathor sw»!Us
from within.'

' And who aro her swordsmen ? * saici the Wanderer.

' That we know not, Stranijor ; no man has livcnl to
tell. Conie, draw n<'ar to tho door of the shrine and
h'-'.'<rken, mayho thou wilt hear tlK? Ilatlior sin<xin^.
Have no feur ; thou needi.t not approach the guarded
space.*

I Then the Wanderer drew nt.nir with a doubting' heart,
but Kei the Priest stood afar off, though the tcanple
priests came close enougli. At the curtains they stopped
and listened. Then from within the shiine tliere came
a sound of singing wild and sweet and shrill, and the
voice of it stirrer! the Wanderer strangely, bringing to
liis mind memories of that Itliaca of which he was Lord
and whicli he should see no more ; of the happy days
of youth, and of the God-built walls of windy Ilios.
But he could not have told why he thought on th(3se
things, nor why his heart was thus strangely stirred
within him.

' Hearken ! tlie Hathor sings as she weaves the doom
of men,' said the priest, au(i as he spoke the singhig
ended.

Then the Wanderer took counsel with himself whether
ho should then and thc^re burst the doors and take his
fortune, or whether he sliodld forbear for tiiat while.
But in the end he determined to forbear and see with
his own eyes what befell those who strove to win the way.
So he drew back, wondering much ; and, bidding
farewell to the aged priest, he went with liei, the

128

THE IVORLD'S DESIRE.

Master Buihier, through the town of Tanis, where the
Apura were still spoiling the people of Kheia, and
he came to the Palace where he was lodged. Here
he turned over in his mind how he might see the
strange woman of the temple, and yet escape the
baths of br(jnze. There he sat and thought till at
length the night drew on, and one came to summon
him to sup with Pharaoh in the Hall. Then he
rose up and went, and meeting Pharaoh and Meriamun
the Queen in the outer chamber, passed in after them
to the Hall, smd on to that dais which he had held
against the rabble, for the place was clear of dead, and,
s;ivc for certain stains upon the marble floor th:it might
not be washed away, and for some few arrows that yet
A^ore lixed high up in the walls or in the lofty roof,
there ^vas nothing to tell of the great fray that had
been fought but one day gone. - •

Heavy was the face of Pharaoh, and the few who sat
with him were sad enough because of the death of s(;
j^any whom they loved, and the shame and sorrow that
bad fallen upon Kiiem. But there were no tears for
/ler one child in the eyes of Meria,mun the Queen.
-Vnger, not grief, tore her heart because Pharaoh had
let t}ie Apura go. For ever as they sat at the sad feast
there 'lame a sound of the trampmg feet of armies, and
of lowing cattle, and songs of triumph, sung by ten
thousand voices, and thus they sang the song of the
Apura: —

A lan^p for our feet the Lord hath litten,
Si.:^ii.'» hath He shown in the Land of Khem.

Tlie Kingf< of the Nations our Lord hath smitten,
His shne lialh He cast o'er the Goda of them.

I 'B

THE BATHS OF BROX/E. 120

He hath made Him a mDck of the heifer of Isis,

He hath broken the charint reins of Ra,
On Ynkiih He cries, and His folk arises,

And the kneei? of the Nations are loosed in awe.

He p;ivpg ns their goods for a spoil to gather,

Jewels of silver, and vessels of gold ;
For Ydhveh of old is our Friend and Father,

And cherisheth YakAb He chose of old.
The Gods of tlie Peoples our liord hath cliidden,

Their courts hath He filled with His creeping things;
The light of the face of the Sun He hath hidden,

And broki^n the scourge in the hands of kings.

He hath chastened His people with stripes and scourges,
^ Our backs hath He burdened with grievous weights,

But His children shall rise us a sea that surges,

And flood the fields of the men He hates.
The Kings of the Nations our Lord hath smitten,

His shoe hath He cast o'er the Gods of them,
But a lamp for our feet the Lord hath litten.

Wonders hath wrmight in the Land of Khem.

Thus they sang, and the singing was so wild that the
Wanderer craved leave to r^o and stand at the Palace
gate, lest the Apura should rush in and spoil the
treasure-chamber.

The King nodded, but Meriamun rose, and went with
the Wanderer as he took his bow and passed to the
great gates.

There they stood in the shadow of the gates, and this
is what they beheld. A great light of many torches
was flaring along the roadway in front. Then came a
body of men, rudely armrd with pikes, and the torch-
light shone on the glitter of bronze and on the gold
helms of which they had spoiled the soldiers of Khem.
I^ext canie a troop of wild woiuen, dancing, and

130

rilR WORLD'S DESIRE.

beating timbrels, and singing the triumphant hymn of
scorn.

Next, with a space between, tramped eight strong
black-bearded men, bearing on their shoulders a
great gilded coffin, covered with carven and painted

signs

' It is tlie body of their Prophet, who brought them
hitlier out of their land of hunger,' whispered Meriamun.
' Slaves, ye shall hunger yet in the wilderness, and
clamour for the flesh-j»ots of Khem !'

Then she cried in a loud voice, for her passior over-
came her, and she prophesied to those who bare the
coffin, 'Not one soul of you that lives shall s.-e the land
where your conjurer is leading you ! Ye shall thirst,
ye shall hunger, ye shall call on the Gods of Khem, and
they shall not hear you ; ye shall die, and your bones
shall whiten the wilderness. Farewell 1 Set go with
you. Farewell ! '

So she cried and pointed down the way, and so fierce
was her gaze, and so awful were her words, that the
people of the Apura tremble<l and the women ceased

to smg.

I. '

The Wanderer watched the Queen and marvelled.
' Never had womati such a hardy heart/ he mused ;
'and it were ill to cross her in love or war I'

'They will sing no mere at my gates,' murmured
Meriamun, with a smile. 'Come, Wanderer; they
await us,' and she gave him her hand that he might
lead her.

So they went back to the baniinet hall.

They hearkened as they sat till far in the night, and

THE BATHS OF BRONZE.

131

if-.
'♦•At.

:4 ;: 1

still the Apura passed, countless as the sands of the sea.
At length all were gone and the sound of their feet
died away in the distance. Then Meriamun the Queen
turned to Pharaoh and spake bitterly :

'Thou art a coward, Meneptah, ay, a coward and a
slave at heart. In thy fear of the curse that the False
llathor hath laid on us, she whom thou dost worship,
to thy shame, thou hast let these slaves go. Otherwise
had our father dealt with them, great Rauieses Miamun,
the hammer of the Khita. Now they are gone hissmg
curses on the land that bare them, and robbing those
who nursed them up while they were yet a little
people, as a mother nurses her child.'

' What then miijht I do ? ' said Pharaoh.

' There is nought to do : all is done,' answered
Meriamun. ' What is thy counsel, Wanderer ? '

' It is ill for a stranger to ofier counsel,' said the
Wanderer.

' Nay, speak,' cried the Queen.

' I know not the Gods of this land,' he answered.
' If these peo})le be favoured of the Gods, I say sit still.
But if not,' then said the Wanderer, wise in war, 'let
Pharaoli gather his host, follow after the people, take
them unawares, and smite them utterly. It is no hard
task, they are so mixed a multitude and cumbered
with much bai-iiafje ! '

This was to speak as the Queen loved to hear. Now
she clapped her hands and cried :

* Listen, listen to good counsel, Pharaoh.'

And now that the Apura were gone, his fear of them
went also, and as he drank wine Pharaoh grew bold,

132

THE WORIJyS DEStliE,

till at last he sprang to liis feet and swore by Amen, by
Osiris, by Ptah, and by liis lather — great Rameses —
that he would follow after the Apura and smite them.
And instantly he sent forth messengers to summon the
captains of his host in the Hall of Assembly.

Thither the captains came, and their plans were
made and messengers hurried forth to the governors of
other great cities, bidding them send troops to join the
host of Pharaoh on its inarch.

Now Pharaoh turntd to the Wanderer and said :

' Thou hast not yet answered my message that Rei
carried to thee this morning. Wilt thou take service
with me and be a captain in this war ? '

The Wanderer little liked the name of service, but
his warlike heart was stirred within him, for he loved
the delight of battle. But before he could answer yea
yc nay, Meriamun the Queen, who was not minded that
he should leave her, spoke hastily:

'This is my counsel, Meneptah, that the Lord Eperi-
tus should nbide here in Tanis and be the Captain of
my Guard while thou art g(me to smite the Apura.
For I may not be here unguarded in those troublous
times, and if I know he watches over me, he who is
s J mighty a man, then 1 shall walk safely and sleep in
peace.'

Now the Wanderer bethought him of his desire to
look upon the Hathor, for to see new things anci try
new adventures was always his delight. So he answered
that if it were pleasing to Pharaoh and th(( Queen he
would willingly stay and command the Guard. And
Pharaoh said that it should be so.

CHAPTER IV.

THE QUEENS CHAMBER.

At midday on the mornnv Pharaoh and the host of
Pharuoh marched in pomp from Tanis, taking the road
that runs across the desert country towards the red
Sea of Weeds, the way that the Apiira had gone. Tlie
Wanderer went with the army for an hour's journey
and more, in a chariot driven by Rei the Priest, for
Rei did not march with the liost. The number of the
soldiers of Pharaoh amazed the Achaean, accustomed to
the levies of barren isles and scattered tribes. But he
said nothing of his wonder to Rei or any man, lest it
should be thought that he came from among a little
people. He even made as if he held the army lightly,
and asked the priest if this was all the strength of
Pharaoh ! Then Rei told him that it was but a fourtJi
part, for none of the mercenaries and none of the
soldiers from the Upper Land marched with the King
in pursuit of the Apura.

Then the Wanderer knew that he was come among a
greater people than he had ever encountered yet, on
land or sea. So he went with them till the roads
divided, and there he drove his chariot to the chariot of

'34

THE WORLD'S DESIRE.

Pharaoh and bade him farewell. Pharaoh called to him
to mount his own chariot, and spake thus to him :

' Swear to me, thou Wanderer, who namest thyself
Eperitus, though of what country thou art and what
was thy father's house n»me know, swear to me that
thou wilt guard Meriamun the Queen faithfully, and
wilt work no woe upon me nor upon my house while
I am afar. Great thou art and beautiful to look on, ay,
and strong beyond the strength of men, yet my heart
misdoubts me of thee. For inethinks thou art a crafty
man, and that evil will come upon me tlirough thee.'

' If this be th} mind, Pharaoh,' said the Wanderer,
'leave me not in guard of tlie Queen. And yet me-
thinks I did not befriend thee so ill two nights gone,
when the rabble would have put thee and all thy house
to the sword because of the death of the firstborn.'

Now Pharaoh looked on him long and doubtfully,
then stretched out his hand. The Wanderor took it,
and swore by his own Gods, by Zeus, by Aphrodite, and
Athene, and Apollo, that he would be true to the trust.

*I believe thee, Wanderer,' said the Pharaoh. 'Know
this, if thou keepest thine oath thou shalt have great
rewards, and thou shalt be second to none in the land of
Khem, but if thou failest, then thou shalt die miserably.*

' I ask no fee,' answered the Wanderer, ' and I fear no
death, for in one way only shall I die, and that is
known to me. Yet I ijvill keep my oath.' And he
bowed before Pharaoh, and leaping from bis chariot
entered jigain into the chariot of Rei.

Now, as he drove back through the host the soldiers
called to him, saying ;

THE QUEEN'S CHAMBER. 135

'Leave us not, thou Wanderer.' For he looked so
glorious in his golden armour that it seemed to tliem as
though a god departed from their ranks.

His heart was with tliem, for he loved war, and he
did not love the Apura. But he drove on, as so it
must be, and came to the Palace at sundown.

That night he sat at the feast by the side of Meria-
mun the Queen. And when the feast was done she bade
him follow her into her chamber where she sat when
she would be alone. It was a fragrant chamber, dimly
lighted with sweet-scented lamps, furnished with couches
of ivory and gold, while all the walls told painted stories
jf strange gods and kings, and of their loves and wars.
The Queen sank back upon the embroidered cushions
of a couch and bade the wise Odysseus sit over against
her, so near that her robes swept his golden greaves.
This he did somewhat against his will, though he was
no hater of fair women. But his heart misdoubted the
dark-eyed Queen, and he looked upon her guardedly,
for she was strangely fair to see, the fairest of all mortal
women whom he had known, save the Golden Helen.

* Wanderer, we owe thee great thanks, and I would
gladly know to whom we are in debt for the prices of
our lives,' she said. * Tell me of thy birth, of thy father's
house, and of the lands that thou hast seen and the
wars wherein thou hast fought. Tell me also of the
sack of Ilios, and how thou camest by thy golden mail.
The unhappy Paris wore such arms as these, if the
minstrel of the North sang truth.'

Now, the Wanderer would gladly have cursed thig
minstrel fnm the North and his songs.

136

rifE WORLD'S DESIRE,

' Minstrels will bo lying, Lady,' h(3 said, ' and they
gather old tales wherever they go. Paris niav have
worn my arms, or another man. 1 bought them from a
ehapman in Crete, and asked nothing of their first
master. As for I lies, I fought there in my youth, and
served the Cretan Idomt nous, but T got little booty.
To the King the wealt i an<l wonuni, to us the sword-
strokes. Such is the a;>pi'arance of war.'

Moriamun listened tt) his tale, which he set forth
roughly, as if he were some blunt, grumbling swordsman,
and larkly she looked on him while she hearkened, and
darkly she smiled ns she looked.

' A strange story. Eperitus, a strange story truly. Now
tell me this. How earnest thou by yonder great bow,
the bow of the swallow string ? If my minstrel spoke
truly, it was once the Bo^v' of Eurytus of (Eehalia.'

Now the Wanderer glan(?ed round him like a man
taken in ambush, who sees on every hand the sword of
foes .«;hine up into the sunlight.

' The bow, Lady ? ' he answered readily enough. ' I
got it strangely. I was cruising with a cargo of iron (m
the western coast and landed on an isle, methinks the
pilot called it Ithaca. There we found nothing but
death ; a pestilence had been in the land, but in a
ruined hall this bow was lying, and I made prize of it.
A good bow ! '

' A strange story, truly — a very strange story,' quoth
Moriamun the Queen. * By chance thou didst buy the
armour of Paris, by chance thou didst find the bow of
Eurytus, that bow, methinks, with which the god-like
Odysseus slew the wooers in his halls. Knoweot thou,

THE QUEEN'S CJiAMHEK.

'.n

Eperitus, tliat when t})ou sioodest yonder on Uu; hoiini
in tlio Place of F^an(nu;Ls, when the gieiit bow twanged
and the long shafts hailed down the hall and loosened
the knees of many, not a little was I put in mind of
the song of tht; slaying of the wooers at the hands of
Odysseus. The fame of Odysseus has wandered far — ay,
even to Khem,' And she looked strajght at him.

The Wanderer darkened his face and put the matter
by. He had heard something of that tale, he said, but
deemed it a minstrel's feigning. One man c<»nl. not
fight a hundred, as the story went.

The Queen half rose from the couch wliere she lay
curled up like a glitt«;ring snake. Like a snake she
rose and watched him with her melancholy eyes.

' Strange, indeed — most strange that Odysseus,
Laertes' 3on, Odysseus of Ithaca, should not know the
tale of the slaying of the wooers by Odys^-eus' self.
Strange, indeed, thou Eperitus, who art Odysseus.'

Now the neck of the Wanderer was in the noose,
and well he knew it : yet he kept his counsel, and
looked upon her vacantly.

* Men say that this Odysseus wandered years ago into
the North, and that this time he will not come again,
I saw him in the wars, and he was a taller man than 1,'
said the Wanderer.

' I have always heard,' said the Queen, ' that Oily.sseiis
was double-tongued and crafty as a fox. Look me in
the eyes, thou Wanderer, look me in the eyes, and 1
will show thee whether or not thou art Odysseus,' and
she leaned forward so tliat her hair well-nich ^wci t \.\.i
brow, and gazed deep into his eyes.

»38

THE WORLiyS DESIRE.

Now tho Waiidnrer was nshuined to drop lii> eyes
before a womuu's, and lie could not rise and go; so he
must needs gaze, and as he gazed his liesul i^rew
strangely light and the blood <^uivered in his veins, and
then seemed to atop.

' Now turn, thou Wanderer,' said the voice of the
Queen, and to him it sounded far away, as if there was
a wall between them, ' and tell rue what thou seest.'

So be turned and looked towards the dark end of tlie
chamber. But presently through the darkness stole a
faint light, like the first gray of the dawn, and now he
saw a shape, like the shape of a great horse of wood,
and behind the horse weie black s(i[uare towers of huge
stones, and gates, and walls, and hous(;s Now he saw
a door open in the side of the horse, and the helmeted
head of a man looked out warily. As he looked a great
white star slid down the sky so that the light of it rested
on the face of the man, and that face was his own !
Then he remembered how he had looked foith from tht;
belly of the wooden horse as it stood within the walls of
Ilios, and thus the star had seemed to fall upon the
doomed city, an omen of the end of Troy.

' Look again,* said the voice of Meriamun from far
away.

So once more he looked into the darkness, and there
he saw the mouth of a cave, and beneath tv/o palms in
front of it sat a man and a woman. The yellow moon
rose and its light fell upon a sleeping sea, upon tall trees,
upon the cave, and the two who sat there. The woman
was lovely, with braided hair, and clad in a shining robe,
and her eyes were dim with tears that she might never

THE QUEEN'S CHAMBER. i $9

dlied : for she waa a Go(i«les8, Calyp.so, the daughter of
Atlas, Then in the vision the man looked up, and hia
face was weary, and worn and sick for home, but it was
his own faoe.

Then he remembered how l;e had sat thus at the side
of Calypso of the braided tre.-ses, on that last night of all
his nights in her wave -girt isle, the centre of the seas.

' Look once more,' said the voice of Meriamun the
Queen.

Again he looked into the darkness. There before him
grew the ruins of his own hall in Ithaca, and in the
courtyard before the hall was a lieap of ashes, and the
charred bones of men. Before the heap lay the Hgure
of one loht in sorrow, for his limbs writhed upon the
ground. Anon the man lifted his face, and behold I the
Wanderer knew that it was his own face.

Then of a sudden the gloom passed away from the
chamber, and once more his blood surged through his
veins, and there before him sat Meriamun the Queen,
smiling darkly.

' Strange sights hast thou seen, is it not so, Wan-
derer ? ' she said.

* Y^a, Queen, the most strange of sights. Tell me of
thy courtesy how thou didst conjure them before my
eyes.'

' By the magic that I have, Eperitus, I above all
wizards who dwell in Khem, the magic whereby I can
read al! the past of those — I love,' and again she looked
upon him ; ' ay, and call it forth from the storehouse of
dead time and make it Iwe again. Say, whose face was
it that thou didst loe^ upon — was it not the face of

I40

THE WORI.iyS DESIRE.

Oilys«s»MiR nf Itluica, LjKjrtfs' son, and was not that face

tin

iiu-

Now t,lii? Wancioror saw tliat there was no escapo.
Therefore he spokt^ the truth, uot hecause he love<l it,
but hecause he nmst.

'The face of Odysseus of Ithaca it was that I
saw Ix^fore n\{\ Lady, Hn(i that face is mine. I avow
myself to be Odyssijus, Laertes' son, and no other man.'

The Queen lauglicd aloud. ' Great must be my
strength of magic,' slie said, Mor it can stnp the guile
from the subtlest of men. Henceforth, Odysseus, thou
wilt know tiiat the eyes <>f Meriainun tlie Queen see far.
Now tell me truly : what earnest thou hither to seek ? '

The Wanderer took .<wift counsel witli himself. Re-
mendieriiig that dream of Meriainun of which Rei the
Piiest had told him, and which she knew not that he
had learned, the dream that showed her the vision of
one whom she nuist love, and remembering the word of
the dead Hataska, he grew afraid. For ho saw well
by the token of the spear point that he was the man of
her dream, and that she knew it. But he could not
accept iier love, both because of his oath to Pharaoh
and because of her w})om Aphrodite had shown to him
in Ithaca, lier whom alone he must seek, the Heart's
Desire, the (xolden Helen.

The strait was desperate, between a broken oath and
a woman scorned. But he feared his oath, and the
anger of Zeus, the God of hosts and guests. So he
sought safety beneath the wings of truth.

' Lady,' he said, ' T will tell thee all ! I came to
Ithac:a from the white North, where a curse had driven

>r-3>wwgk«wH Cw^Wati

THE QUEEN'S CH.WtBER. 141

•

ine ; I camo and found my halls d«,'S'>lat<', and my jwoplo
dtiad, arul the V(?ry aah«!8 of my wife. But in a <h«^am of
the night I saw tlie Goddess whom I havo worvshipjMMl
little, Ajjlirodite of Idalia, wliotn in this land yo name
Hathor, and she bade me go forth and do her will And
for reward she promised me that I should find one who
waited me to bo my deathless love.'

Meriatuun heard him so far, but no further, for of
this she made sure, that &lic was the woman whom
Aphrodite had promised to tlie Wanderer. Ere he
might speak another word she glided to him like a
snake, and like asnakeeurled herself about him. Then
she spoke so lovv that he rather knew her thought than
heard her words;

' Was it indeed so, Odysseus ? Did the Goddess
mdeed send thee to seek me out ? Know, then, that
not to thee alone did she speak. I also looked for thee.
I also waited tlie coming of one whom I should love.
Oh, heavy have bei-n the days, and (Mupty was my heart,
and sorely through the years Imve I longed for him
who should be brought to rie. And now at length it
is done, now at length I see him whom in my dream I
saw,' and she lifted her lips to the lips of the Wanderer,
and her heart, and her eyes, and her lips said * Love.'

But it was not for nothing tliat he bore a stout and
patient heart, and a brain unclouded by danger, or by
love. He had never been in a strait like this; caught
with bonds that no sword could cut, and in toils that no
skill could undo. On one side were love and pleasure
— on the other a broken oath, and the loss for ever of
the Heart's Desire. For to love another woman, as he

14?

THE WORLD'S DESIRE.

had been warned, was to lose Helen. liut again, if he
scorned tlie Queen— nay, for al' riis hardihood he dared
not tell her that she was not the woman of his vision,
the woman he came to ^eek. Yet even now his cold
courage and his cunning did not fail nim.

' Ladv,' he said, ' we both have dreamed. But it'
thou didst dream thou wert my love, thou didst wakt;
to fnd thyself the wife of Pharaoh. And Pharaoh is
my host and hath my oath.'

*I woke to find myself the wife of Pharaoh,' she
echoed, wearily, end her arms uncurled from his neck
and she sank back on the coucli. ' I ain Pharaoh's wife
in word, but not in deed. Pharaoh is nothing to me,
thou Wan(lerer — nougiit save a name,'

'Yet is my oath much to me, Queen Meriamun — my
oatii and the hospitable iiearth,' the Wanderer madf;
answer. 'I swore to Meneptah to hold thfe from all
ill, and there's an end.'

' And if Pharaoh comes back no more, what then,
Ody.sseus V

'Then will w<^ talk <.,gain. And now, Lady, thy
safety calls me to visit thy Guard.' And without more
words he rose a Jid went.

The Queen looked after him.

'A strange man,' she said in her heart, 'who builds a
barrier with his oath betwixt him.self and her he loves
and has wandered so far to win ! Yet methinks I
honour him ^he more. Pharaoh Meneptah, my husband,
eat, drink, and be merry, for this I promise thee — short
siiall be thy days.*

CHAPTER V.

THE CHAPEL PfcRILOUS.

' Swift as a bird or a thought ' says the old harper of
the Nortliern Sea. The Wanderer's thoughts in the
morning were swift as night birds, Hying back an<i
brooding over the things he had seen and the words be
had heard in the Queen's chamber. Again he stood
between this womt^n and the oath which, of all oaths.
was the worst to brcik. And, indeed, he was littir
tempted to break it, for thougli Meriamun was beautii'id
and wise, he feared her love and he ft. -.red her magic
!irt no less than he feared her vengeance if she wei<'
scorned. Delay seemed the only course. Let him wait
till the King returned, ^cA it would go hard but lie
found some cause for leaving the city of Tanis, and
seeking through new adventures tlie World's Desire,
The mysterious ri' er lay yonder. He would ascend the
river of which so many tales were told. It Ho wed from
the land of the blameless .^'Ethiopians, the most just ol
men, at whose tables the very Gods sat as guests.
There, perchance, far up the sacred stream, in a land
where no wrong ever came, there, if tlie Fates permitted,
he might find the Golden Helen.

If the Fates permitted : but, all the adventure was

144

IVORLjyS DESIRE.

of the Fates, who had shown him to Meriamun in a
dream.

He turned it long in his mind and found little light.
It seemed that as he had drifted through darkness
across a blood-red sea to the shores of Khem, so he
should wade through blood to that shore of Fate which
the Gods appointed.

Yet after a while he shook sorrow from him, arose,
bathed, anointed hnnsell, combed his dark locks, and
girded on his golden armour. For now he reuembered
that this was the day when the Strange Ilathor should
stand upon the pylon of the temple and call the people
to her, and he was minded to look upon her, and if
need be to do battle with that which guarded her.

So he prayed to Aphrodite that she would help him,
and he poured out wine to her and waited ; he waited,
but no answer came to his prayer. Yet a'« he turned
;away it chanced that he saw his countenance in the
wide golden cup whence he had poured, and it seemed
to him that it had grown more fair and lost the stiinp
of years, and that his face was smooth and young as the
face of that Odysseus who, many years ago, had sailed
in the black ships and looked back on the smoking
ruins of windy Troy. Tn this he vSaw the hand of the
Goddess, and knew that if slie might not be manifest
in this land of strange Gods, yet she was with him.
And, knowing this, his heart grew light as the heart of
a boy from whom sorrow is yet a long way otf, and who
has not dreamed of death.

Then he ate and drank, and when he had put from
Jiim the desire of food he arose and girded on the swoinI,

THE CrrAPEL PERILOUS.

Euryalus's gift, but the black bow lie left in its case.
Now he was ready and about to set forth when Rei the
Priest entered the chamber.

' Whither goest thou, Eperitus ? ' asked Rei the
instructed Priest. ' And what is it that has made thy
face so fair, as though many years had been lifted from
thy back ? '

''Tis but sweet sleep, Rei,' said the Wanderer.
' Deeply I slept last night, and the weariness of my
wanderings fell from me, and now I am as I was before
I sailed across the blood-red sea into the night.'

'Sell thou the secret of this sleep to the ladies of
Khem/ answered the aged priest, smiling, ' and little
shall thou lack of wealth for all thy days.

Thus he spake as though he believed the Wanderer,
but in his heart he knew that the tliiiij; was of the Gods.

The Wanderer answered :

'I go up to the Temple of ilje Hathor, for thou dost
remember it is to-day that she stands upon the pylon
brow and calls the people to her, Comest thou also,
Rei?' , .

' Nay, nay, I come not, Eperitus. I am old indeed,
but yet the blood creeps through these withered veins,
and, perchance, if I came and looked, the madness
would seize me also, and I too should rush on to my
slaying. Therp is a way in which a man may listen to
the voice of the Hathor, and that is to have his eyes
blindfolded, as many do. But even then he will tear
the bandage from his eyes, and look, and die with the
others. Oh, go not up, Eperitus — I pray ther get noi
up. I love thee — I know not why — and am little

146

THE WORLD'S DESIRE.

minded to see thee dead. Though, perchance/ he
added, as thou(,di to himself, * it would be well Ibv those
I serve if thou wert dead, thou Wanderer, with the eyes
of Fate/

'Have no fear, Rei,' said the Wanderer, 'as it is
doomed so shall I die and not otherwise. Never shall it
be told,' he n)urnuired in his heart, ' that he who stood
in arms against Scylla, the Hoiioi of tlie Rock, turned
back from any form of fear or from any shape of Love.'

Then Rei wrung his hands and went nigh to weeping,
for to him it seemed a pitiful thing that so goodly a
man and so great a hero should thus be done to death.
But the W^auderer passed out through tlie city, and Rei
went with iiim for a certain distance. At length they
came to the road set on either side with sphinxes, that
leads from the outer wall of brick to the garden of the
Temple of Hathur, and down this road hurried a
nrultitude of men of all races and of every age. Here
the prin>.e was borne along in his litter; here the
young noble travelled in his chariot. Here came the
slave bespattered with the mud of the fields ; here the
cripple limped upon his crutches; and here was the
blind ma.n led by a hound. And with L^ach man came
women : tlie wife of tlie man, or his mother, or his
sist'^rs, or .she to whom he was vowed in marriage.
Weeping they came, and with soft words and clinging
arm& th^y strove to hold back him whom they loved.

'Oh, my son! my son 1' cried a woman, 'hearken to
tliy mother's voice. Go not up to look upon the
Goddess, for if thou dost look then shalt thou die, and
thou alone art left alive to me. Two brothers of thine

THE CHAPEL PERILOUS.

147

r bore, and behold, both are dead ; and wilt thou die
also, and leave me, who am old, alone and desolate?
Be not mad, my son, tliou art the dean at of all ; ever
have I loved tliei^ and tended thee. Come back, I pray
— come back.'

But her son heard not and heeded not, pressing on
toward tlio Gates of the Heart's Desire.

v7ii, my husband, my liusband ! ' cried another,
young, of gentle birth, and fair, wlio bare a babe on her
left arm and with the right clutched her lord's broidored
robe. *Oh, my husband, have I not loved thee and
beiTi kind to thee, and wilt thou still go up to look
upon the deadly glory of the Hathor ? They say she
wears the beauty of the Dead. Lovest thou me not
better than her who died five years agone, Merisa the
daughter of Kois, though thou didst love her first?
See, here is thy babe, thy babe, but one week ^ )rn.
Even from my bed of pain f have risen and followed
after thee down these weary roads, and I am lik • to
lose my life for it. Here is thy babe, let it plead with
thee. Let nie die if so it must be, but go not tiiou up
to thy death. Jt is no Goddess whom thou wilt see,
but an evil spirit loosed from the under-world, and that
shall be thy doom. Oh, if I please thee not, take thou
another wife and T will make her welcome, only go not
up to thy death ! *

But the man fixed his eyes upon the pylon tops,
heeding her not, and at length she sank upon the road
and there with the babe would have b^n-n crushed by
the cliariots, had not the Wanderer borne her to on©
side of the way.

148

THE WORLDS DESIRE.

Now, of all sights tliis was the most dreadful, for on
every side rose the prayers and lamentations of \^omen,
and still the multitude of men pressed on unheeding. ^

* Now thou seest t!ie power of Love, and how if a
woman be but beautiful enough she may drag all men
to ruin,' said Rei the Priest,

* Yes,' said the Wanderer ; ' a strange sight, truly.
Much blood hath this Hathor of thine upon her
hands,'

'And yet thou wilt give her thine, Wriiulerer.'

'That I am not minded to do,' he answered; 'yet
I will look upon her fact\ so speak no more of it.'

Now they were come to the space before. the broTize
gates of the pylon of the ouoer court, and there the
multitude gathered to the u'uubei- of many hundreds.
Presently, as they watched, a priest came to the gates,
that same priest who had shown the Wanderer the
bodies in the baths of bronze. He looked through the
bars and cried aloud :

'Whoso would enter into the court and look upon
the Holy Hathor let him draw nigli. Know ye this, aril
men, the Hathor is to him who can win her. But if he
pas.? not, theti shall he die and be buried within the
temple, nor shall he ever look upon the sun again. Of
this ye are warned. Since the Hathor came again to
Khem, of men seven hundred and three have gone up
to win her, and of bodies seven hundred and two lie
witliin the vaults, for of all these men Pharaoh
Meneptah alone hath gone back living. Yet there is
place for more ! Enter, ye who would look upon the
Hathor''

niE CHAP EL PER noes.

-to

Now there aroso a luij^lity wailing tVom the women.
They clung madly .iljout the lUcks of those who were
dear to them, and some clur.g not in vain. For the
hearts of many failed them at the last, and they shrank
from entering in. But a few of tliDSf who had already
looked upon the Hathor from afar, |>(ichauee a score in
all, struck the women from them and rushed up to the
gat^s.

'Surely thou wilt not enter in?' quoth Rei, clinging
to the arm of the Wanderer. ' Oh, turn thy back on
death and come back with me I pray thee turn.'

'Nay,' said the Wanderer, ' 1 will go in.'

Then Rei the Priest tlirew dust upon his head, we})t
aloud, and turned and fled, never stopping till he came
to the Palace, where sat Meriamun the Queen.

Now the priest unbarred a wicket in the gates of
bronze, and one by one those who were strirkeii of the
madness entered in. For all ol' these had seen the
Hathor many times from afar without the wall, and
now they could no more withstand their longing. And
as they entered two other priests took them by the
hand and bound their eyes with cloths, so that unless
they willed it they might not see the glory of the
Hathor, but only hear the sweetness of her voice. But
two there were who would not be blindiblded, and of
these one was that man whose wife had fainted bj the
way, and the other was a man sightless from his youth.
For although he might not see the beauty of the God-
dess, this man was inade mad by the sweetness of her
voice. Now, when all had entered in. save the Wan-
derei', there was a stir in the crowd, and a man rushed

ISO

THE WOlUjys DESIRE.

up. H«^ was truvel-staiiKMl, lie had a black b-sard, black
eyes, and a nos<; hooked like a vulture's beak.

'Hild!' he cried. 'Hold! Shut not the gates!
Night and day have I journeyed from the host of the
Apura who fly into the wddc ness. Ni<.dit «and day I
have journeyed, le^iving wife and flocks and rhildren and
the }':'onnse of the Lund, that I may once more look
upon the beauty of the Hathor. Shut :;ot the gates ' '

' Pass in,' said the prie<-i, 'pass in, so shall we be rid
< *" one of those whom Khem nurtured up to rob her,'

He entered; then. <is the priest was about t> bar *le
wicket, the Wanderer strode forward, and his golden
armour clashed beneath the portal,

'Wouldn't thou indt ed enter to thy doom, thou mighty
lord?' asked the priest, A^r he knew him well again.

'Ay, I enter; but perchance not to my doom,'
answered the Wanderer. Then he passed in and the
brazen gate v^as shut beldnrt him.

Now the two p.iosts came forward to bind his eyes,
but this he would not endure.

'Not so,' he said; 'I am come here to see wha,t may
be seen.'

' 1o to, thou madman, goto! and die the dtath,'
they answered, and led all the men to the centre ol the
courtyard whence they might see the pylon top. Then
the priests also covered up their eyes and cast them-
selves at length upon the ground ; so for a while they
lay, and all was silence within ,iud without the court,
f(pr t'ney waited the coming of the Hathor. The
W.tnderer glanced through the bar-; of bronze at the
mtdtitude gathered there. Silent they stood with up-

THE CHAPEL PERILOUS.

»5i

turned eyfcS, even the wuuien liad ceased troiu weeping
and stood in silence. He looked at those l>esi(le liim.
Their bandaged faces were hi'ted and they stared to-
wards the pylon top as though their vision pierced the
cloths. The bhnd man, too, stared upward, and hii^
pale lips moved, but no sound came from them. Now
at the foot of the pylon hiy a little rim of shadow.
Thinner and thinner it grew as the moments crept on
towards the perfect noon. Now there was but a line,
and now the line was gone, for the sun's red disc burned
higii in the blue heaven straight above the pylon brow
Then suddenly and from far there came a faint sweet
sound of singing, and at the first note of the sound a
great sigh went up through the (juiet air, from all the
multitude without. Those who were near the Wanderer
sighed also, and their lips and fingers twitched, and he
himself sighed, though he knew not why.

Nearer came the sweet sound of singing, and stronger
it swelled, till presently those without the temple gate
who were on higher ground caught sight of her who
sang. Then a hoarse roar went up from every throat,
and madness took them. On they rushed, dashing
themselves against the gates of bronze and the steep
walls on either side, and beat upon them madly with
their fists and brows, and climbed on each other's
shoulders, gnawing at the bars with their teeth, crying
to be let in. But the women threw their arms about
them and screamed curses on her whose beauty brought
all men to madness.

So it went for a while, till presently the Wanderer
looked up, and lo ! upon the pylon's bruw stood the

»S'

THE WORLiys DESIRE,

woman's self, and at lier roming all were once more
siKMit, She was tall ami straiglit, clad in clinging
white, but on her breast thert; f(lowed a blood-red ruby
stone, fashioned like a star, and from it fell red drops
that stained for one moment the whiteness of her robes,
and then the robe was white again. Hor golden hair
was tossed this way and that, and shone in the sunlight,
her arms and neck were bare, and she held one hand
before hor eyes as though to hide the brightness of her
beauty. For, indexed, she could not be called beautiful
but Beauty itself.

And they who had not loved saw in her that first
love whom no man has ever won, and they who had
loved saw that lirst luv(! whom every man has lost.
And all about her rolled a gloiy — like the glory of the
dying day. Sweetly she sang a song of promise, and
her voice was tl)e voice of each man's desire, and the
heart of the Wanderer thrilled in answer to it as thrills
a harp smitten by a cunning hand ; and thus she
sang :

Whom hast thou longed for most,

True love of mine ?
Win iju hast thou loved and lost!

Lo, she i.s thiue !

She that another wed

Ijreaks hum her vow ;
She that hath long been dead .

Wakes I'ui" thee now.

DreauKs liaunt the hapless bed,

Ghosts liannt the night,
Life ci'i.wus her living head,

L(jve and Delight.

THE cuArrr rr.Rii.ors. 15;,

Nay, not a 'iivjiui nor .;Iiiih1,

Nay, b>il Divine,
She that whs hivnd and h)8t

Waits to ho fhinc !

She ceased, und a moan of desire went up from all
who heard.

Then the Wanderer saw tliat those beside him tore
at the bandages about their brows and rent them Uxjse.
Only the priests who lay upon the ground stirred not,
though they also moaned.

And now again she sang, still holding lior hand before
her face :

Ye tliftt seek me, ye thai, siu; me,

Ye tliat Hock lieneatli my tower,
Ye wonld win me, wouhl un<lo me,
I must jH'iish in an hour,
• Dead hulort! the Love that slew me, clas^ied the
. • Bride and crushed the flower.

Hear the word and mark th<; wariiing,

Eeauty live-^ but in your si«rht.
Beauty fades from all men's soornin;^

In the watches of the nii^dit.
Beauty wanes Ijel'or*'. the morning, and

Love dies in his deliuht.

She ceased, and once more there was silence. Then
suddenly she bent forward across the pylon brow so far
that it seemed that she must fall, and stretch iuijf out
her arms as though to clasp those beneath, showed all
the glory of her loveliness.

The Wanderer looked, then dropped his eyes as one
who has seen the brightnt:ss of the noonday sun. In
the darkness of his mind the world was lost, and he
could think of naught save the clamour of the people,

«54

THE WORLiyS DESIRE.

which frottefl hi« ears. They were all crying, an<l none
were listening.

'See! see!' shoute<J one. 'Look at her hair; it i»
dark as the raven's win;.;, and her eyes — they are dark
as night. Oh, my love! my love!* ;

' See ! s<->e ! ' cried another, ' were ever skies so blue as
those eyes of hers, was ever f(»ani so white as those
svliitc arnus ? '

' Kven so she looke I whom once 1 wed many summers
gone,' murirmit'd a third, 'even so when Hrst T drew
hiT veil. Hers was that gentle smile breaking like
rij>}>]es on the; water, hars that curling hair, hers that
child- like grncc.'

' Was ev(>r woman so queenly made?' said a fourth.
* Look now on the bmw of pride, look on the deep, dark
eyes of storm, the arched lips, and the imperial air.
Ah, here indeed is a Goddess meet for worship.'

• Not so I see her,' cried a fifth, that man who had
come from the host of the Apura. 'Pale she is and
fair, tall indeed, but delicately shaped, brown is her hair,
and brown are her great eyes like the eyes of a stag,
and ah, sadly she looks upon rae, longing for my love.'

*My eyes are opened,' screamed the blind man at the
Wanderer's side. ' My eyes are opened, and I see the
pylon tower and the splendid sun. Love hath touched
me on the eyes and they are opened. But lo ! not one
shape hath she but many shapes. Oh, she is Beauty's
self, and no tongue may tell her glory. Let me die '
let me die, for my eyes are opened. I have looked on
Beauty's self! T know what all the world journeys on
to seek, and why we die and what we go to find in death.'

i
i

CHAPTER VI.

THE WARDENS OF THE GATE.

The clamour swelled or sank, and tho m«'n called
and cried the names of many women, some dead, some
lost. (.)thi'rs were mute, silent in the presem-e of the
World's Desire, silent as when we see lost faces in a
dream. The Wanderer had looked once and then cast
down his eyes and stood with his face hidden in his
hands. Ho alone waited and strove to think; the rest
were abandoned to the bewilderment of their passions
and their amaze.

What was it that he had seen ? That which he had
sought his whole life long; sought by sea and land,
not knowing what he sought. For this he had wandered
with a hungry heart, and now was the hunger of his
heart to be appeased ? Between him and her was the
unknown barrier and the invisible Death. W^us he to
pass the unmarked boundary, to force those guarded
urates and acliieve where all had faile<l ? Had a magic
deceived his eyes ? Did he look but on a picture and
a vision that some art could call again from the haunted
place of Memory ?

He sighed and looked again. Lo ' in his charmed

15^

THIi Vv'ORLiyS DESIRE.

siLrlit a fair girl seemed to stand npon the pylon brow,
and on her head she bore a shining urn of bronze.

He knew lier now. Tie had seen her thus at the
Court of King Tyndareus as he drove in Ids chariot
through the ford of Eurotas; thus he had seen her also
in the dream on tlie Silent Isle.

Again he sighed and again tie looked. Now in his
charmed siglit a woman sat. wliose face was the face of
the girl, grown more lovely far, but sad with grief and
touched with sliarae.

He saw her and lie knew her. So he liad seen her
in Troy towers when he stole thither in a beggar's guise
from the camp of the Achaeans. So lie had seen her
when she saved his life in Ilios.

Again he sigheil ar.<l again he looked, and now he
saw the Golden Helen.

She stood upoii the pylon's brow. She stood with
arms outsti etched, with eyes upturned, and on hei
shining face there was a smile Uke the infinite smile of
the (hi.wii. Oh, now indeed he knew the shape that
was Beauty s self— the innocent Spirit of Love sent on
earth by the undying Gods to be the doom and the
delight of men ; to draw tliem through the ways of
stj'.L to the unknown end.

Awhile the Golden Helen stood thus looking up and
out to the worlds beyond ; to the peace beyond the
strife, to the goal beyond the grave. Thus she stood
while men scarce dared to breathe, summoning all to
come and take that which upon the earth is guarded so
invincibly.

Then once more she sang, and as she sang, slowly

rilE WARDENS OF THE GATE. 157

drew herself away, till at length nothing was left, ot the
vision of her save the sweetness of her dying song.

Who wins his Love shall lose her,

Who loses lier shall ^'ain,
for still the spirit woos her,

A soul without a stain ;
And Memory still pursues her

With longings not in vain !

He loses her who j,',ain8 her,

Who watches day hy day
The dust of time that stains her,

The griefs that leave her gray.
The flesh that yet enchains her

Wliose grace hath passed away I

Oh, happier he who gains not

The Love some seem to gain :
The Joy that custom stains not

Shall still with him renmin,
Tlie hivoliness thai wanes not,

The Love that ne'er can wane.

In dreams she grows not older

Till' lands of Dream among,
Tiioiigh all the world wax colder,

Though all the songs be sung,
In dp'ams doth he hehold her

St. 11 fair and kind and young.

Now the sileii ^ died away, and again madness came
upon those who had listened and looked. The me^
without the wall once more hurled themselves against
the gates, while the women clung to them, shrieking
curses on the beauty of the H.^thur, for the song meant
nothing to these women, and their arms were about
those whom they loved and who won them their bread.
But most of the men who were in the outer court
rushed up to the inner gates williiii which sL^ud the

15^

THE WORLD'S DESIRE.

alabaster shrine of the Hatlior. Some flung themselves
upon the ground and clutched at it, as in dreams men
fling themselves down to b(! saved from falling into a
pit that has no bottom. Yet as in such an evil slumber
the dreamer is drawn inch by incli to the morth of the
pit by an unseen hand, s'^ these wretched men were
dragged along the ground by the might of their own
desire. In vain they set their feet against the stones
to hold themselves from going, for they thrust forward
yet more fiercely with their hands, and thus little by
little drew near the inner gates writhing forwards yet
moving backwards like a wounded snake draiiijed alonir
by a rope. For of those who thus entered the outer
court and looked upon th>^ Hathor, few might go back
alive.

Now the priests drew the cloths from their eyes, and
rising, flung wide the second gates, and there, but a
little way off, the veil of the shrine wavered as if in a
wind. For now the doors beyond the veil were thrown
open, as might be seen when the wind swayed its
Tyrian web, and through the curtain came tne sound
of the same sweet singing.

* Draw near ! Draw nenr ! ' cried the ancient priest.
'Let him who would win the Hathor draw near !'

Now at first the Wanderer was minded to rush on.
But his desire had not wholly overcome him, nor had
his wisdom left him. He took counsel with his heart
and waited to let the others gv), and to see how it fared
with them. " , "

Tlie worshippers were now ImiTving back and now
si^arting onwards, as fear and longing seized tliem, till

THE WARDENS OF THE GATE.

159

the man who was blind drew near, led by the hand of
a priest, for his hound might not enter the second court
of the temple.

* Do ye fear ? ' he eriod. * Cowards, I fear not. It
is better to look upon the glory of the Hathor and
die than to live and never see her more. Set my
face straight, ye priests, set my face straight, at the
worst I can but die.'

So they led him as near the curtains as they dared to
(go and set his face straight. Then with a great cry he
rushed on. But he was caught and whirled about like
a leaf in a wind, so that he fell. He rose and again
rushed on, again to be whirled back. A third time he
rose and rushed on, smiting with his blind man's staff.
The blow fell, and stayed in mid-air, and there came a
hollow sound fis of a smitten shield, and the staff that
dealt the blow was shattered. Then there was a noise
like the noise of clashing 'swords, ;ind the man inst;intly
sank down dead, though the Wanderer could see no
wound upon Idm.

' Draw near ! Draw near ! ' cried the priest again.
* This one is fallen. Let him who would win the
Hathor draw near ! *

Then the man who had fled from the host of the
Apura rushed forward, crying on the Lion of his tribe.
Back he was hurled, and back again, but at the third
time once more there came the sound of clashing swords,
and he t;)o fell dead.

' Draw near ! Draw near!' cried the priest. 'Another
has fallen! Let him who would win the Hathor draw
near ! '

i6o

THE IVORLD'S DESIRE.

I I

And now man after man ruslied on, to be first hurled
back and then slain of the clashing swords. And at
length all were slain save the Wanderer alone.

Then the priest spake :

'Wilt thou indeed rush on to doom, thou glor'ons
man ? Thou hast seen the tatc of many. Be warned
and turn away.'

* Never did I turn from man or ghost,' said the Wan-
derer, and drawing his short sword he came near, warily
covering his head v/ith his broad shiehl, while the
priests stood back to see him die. Now, the Wanderer
had marked that none were touched till they stood
u|>on the very thresliold of the doorway. Therefore he
uttered a. prayer to Aphrodite and came on shnvly till
his feet were within a low's length of the tlireshold,
and there he stood and listened. Now he could hear
the very words of the song that the Hathor sang as she
wove at her loom. So dread and bweet it was that for
a while he thought no more on the Guardians of the
Gate, nor of how he might win the way, nor of aught
save the song. For she was singing shrill and clear in
his own dear tongue, the tongue of the Aclijeans :

Piant with threads of gold and scarlet, paint the battle.s fought

for nie,
All the wars for Argive Helen ; storm and sa' k I'y land or sea ;
All the tale of loves and sorrows that have been and are to be.

Paint iier lips that like a cup have pledjjfeii the lips of heroes all,
Paint her golden hair unwhitened while the many winters fall,
Paint the beauty that is mistress of the wide world and its thrall !

Paint the storms of ships and chariots, rain of airows flying far.
Paint the waves of Warfare leaping up at Beauty like a star.
Like a star that pale and trembling hangs above the waves of War,

I i

THE WARDENS OF THE GATE. i6i

Paint the ancient I lies fallen ; paint the llaine.s that sciKid the

sky,
When the foe wu« in the fortreSH, when the triunjx t and tlie cry*
Rang of men in their last onset, men whose hour had dawned txj

die.

WoG for me once loved of tdl men, me tliat never yet have

known
How to love the hearts tluit loved me. .Woe for me, who hear

the moan
Of my lovers' ghosts that perished in their cities overthr.»wn.

Is there not, of Gods or mortals, oh, ye Clods, 1.5 there not one -
One whose heart shall mate with my heart, one to love ere all bo

done,
All the tales of wars that shall be for my love beneath the sun ?

Now the song diod nway, and the Wanderer <>nce
more Ix-hought hitn of the Wardens of the ()late and
of t}ie battle which he must fi.jfht. But as he braced
himself to rush on a.;ainst the unseen foe the music of
the singing swelled forth a^^ain, au<l Mdietlu;r he willed it
or willed it not, so sweet was its magic that there he
must wait till the song was done. And now stronger
and more gladly rang the sweet shrill voice, like the
voice of one who has made moan through the livelong
winter night, and now sees the chariot of the dawn
climbing the eastern sky. Arid thus the Hathor

sang

Ah, within my hearl a hunger for tho love unfelt, unknown,
Stirs at length, and wakes and nnirmurs as a child that walu'.i to

moan.
Left to sleep within some silent house of strangers an<i alone.

So my heart awakes, and v.aking, moans wiiii huTiger and with

cold,
Cries in pain of dim remend;rance for the joy ihal was of old ;
for the love that was, that ■-hall be, half Itjrgot aud half forettAd.

H -

l62

THE WORLaS DESIRE.

Havft I dreamed it or rennMiiliered ? In another world was I,
■ Lived and lovtnl in alien seasons, moved beneath a golden sky,
In a golden clime where never cam*^ the strife of men that die.

But the Gods themselves were jealous, for our bliss was over

great,
And tiicy brmy^hfc on us division, and the horror of their Hate,
And they set t,he Snake between ua, and the twining coils of

Jci^ate,

And they said, 'Oo forth and seek each other's face, and only

find
Shadows of that face ye long for, dreams of days left far

behind.
Love th(i shadows and be loved with loves that waver as the

wind.'

Once more the sweet singing died away, but as the
Wanderer grasped his sword and fixe'.l the broad shielil
upon his arm he rememb*^red the dream of Meriainmi
the Queen, which had been told him by Rei the Priest.
For in that dream twain who had sinned were made
three, and through many deaths and lives must eek
each other's fjice. And now it seemed that the burden
of the song was the burden of the dream.

Then he thoiight no more .)n dreams, or songs, or
omens, but only on the deadly foe that stood before him
wrapped in darkness, and on Helen, in whose arms he
yet should lie, for so the Goddess had sworn to him in
sea-girt Ithaca. He spoke no word, he named no God,
but sprang forward as a lion springs from his bed of
reeds; and, lo ! his buckler clashed against shields that
barred the ^^/ay, and mvisibk) arms seized \v\n to hurl
him back. But no weakling was the Wanderer, ihiis to
be pushed aside by magic, but the stoutest man left
f^Uve in the whole world now that Aias, Telamon's sou,

THE WARDENS OF THE GATE.

163

was dead. Tiie priests wondered as tliey saw h»>w lie
gave back never a .step, tor all the might of the Wardens
of the Gate, but lifted his sliort sword and howetl down
so terribl^^ that fire leapt from the air where the short
sword fell, the good short sword of Euryalus the Phai-
acian. Then eanie the clashing of the swords, and from
all the golden carmonr that onoe the god-like Paris wore,
ay, from buckler, helm, and greaves, and bnjastplate
the sparks streamed up as they stream from the anvil
of the smith when he smites great blows on swords
made white with fire.

Swift as hail fell the blows of the unseen blades upon
the golden armour, but he who wore it took no harm,
nor was it so much as marked with the dint of the
swords. So while the priests wondered at this mirac'e
the viewless Wardens of the Gate smote at the Wanden^r,
and the Wanderer smote at them again. Then of a
sudden ho knew this, that they who barred the path
were gone, for no more blows fell, and his sword only
cut the air.

Then he rushed on and passed behind the veil and
stood within tiie shrine.

But as the curtains swung behind him the sinjiincj
rose again upon the air, and he might not move, but
stood fixed with his eyes gazing where, far up, a loom
was set v/ithin the shrine. For the sound of the sing-
ing came from behind the great web gleaming !ii the
loom, the sound of the song of Heb'n as she lieard
the swords clash and the ringing of the harness of
those whose knees were loosened in death. 1l was
thus she sang : • •

*.v/«\t«!»f<vf^(',t:>'iv. , .

164

THE IVORLD'S DESIRE.

Clamoni of iron od iron, and shnckiiiL,' of stool upon steel,

H;U'k li(»\v tlicv echo aj^aiu !
Life Willi the deml is at war, anil tlu; mortals are shaken and
reel,

Th(! livin;^ are slain by the slain !

Clamonr of iron on iron , like m ic thii* lai '.'s with a sonj,',

So > .h r"y lif'^ doth it .liii.)
And my fjotsteps must full in tb-- mx^v\-. >.A Erinnys, a novel of
wrong,

Till the day of the pnssinj^ of Time !

Glio.st.s of the dead that have loved ini', your h;V(.' have been
vanquished of death,
But unvan({uished of death is your hate ;
Say, is there none that may woo me attd win me of all thai draw
breath,
Not one but is envied of Fate ?

Now the song died, and the Wanderer looked up, and
before him stood three shadows of mighty men clatl in
armour. He gazed upon them, and he knew the
blaznns painted on their shields; he knew t.hem for
heroes long dead — Piritlious, Theseus, and Aias.

Th(»y looked upon iiiiri, and then cried with one
voice :

' Hail to thee, Odysseus of Ithaca, son of Laertes !*

'Hail to thee,' cried the Wan<ierer, 'Tlieseus, yEgeus'
son ! Once before didst thou go down into the House
of Hades, and alive thou earnest forth again. Hast
thou crossed yet again the stream of Ocean, and dost
thou live in the suiilight? For of old I sought thee
and found thee not in tfie House of Hudes ? '

The semblance of Tliescus answered : ' In the House
of Hades I. abide this day, and in the fields of asphodel.
But that t.hou seest is a. shadow, sent forth by the

THE WARDENS OF THE GATE.

'65

QiK. . P'.^rsep}»oiie, to lie the guard of the beauty ot
Helen.*

' Uail ^0 thee, Pirithous, Ixion's son,' cried the
W.'i.'iderer again. ' Hast thou yet won the dread
Perse phohe to oe thy love ? And why doth Hades
give his rival lioliday to wander in thi; sunlight, for of
old I sought thee, and found thee not in the House of
Hades.'

Then the semblance of Pirithous answered :

' In the House of Hades 1 dwell this day, and that
thou seest is but a shadow which goes with the shadow ■
of the hero Theseus. For where he is am I, and where
h goes I go, and our very shadows are not simdereij ;
but we guard the beauty of Helen.'

' Hail to thee, Aias, Telamon's son,' cried the Wan-
derer. ' Hast thou not forgotten thy wrath against me,
for the sake of those accursed arms that I won from
thee, the arms of Achilles, sou of Peleus ? For of old
in the House of Hades I spoke to thee, but thou
wouldst not answer one wortl, so heavy wf.s thine

anger.

Then the semblance of Aias made answer : ' With
iron uptm iron, and the stroke of bronze on bronze,
would I answer thee, if 1 were yet a living man and
looked upon the sunlight. But I smite with a sha^lowy
spear and slay none but men foredoomed, and I am the
shade of Aias who dwells in Hades. Yet the Queen
Perseplume sent me forth to be the guard jf the beauty
of Helen.'

Then the Wanderer spoke.

' Tell me, ye shadows (^f the sons of heroes, is the way

i66

THE WORLD'S DESIME.

doseil, and do the Gods forbid it, or may I that am yet
a ]ivin<r man pass forward and gaze on that ye guard, ou
the beauty of Helen V

Theu cacli of the three nodded with his head, and
smote once upon liis shield, saying :

' Pass by, but lo(;k not back upon us, till thou hast
seen thy desire'

Then the VV\*in(lerer went by, into the innermost
clianiber of the alabaster shrine.

Now v'hen the shadows had spoken thus, they grew
dim and vanished, and the Wanderer, as they had
conunatided, drew slowly uyj on the alabaster shrine, till
at length b ' stood on the hither side of the web upon
the louiii. ft was a great web, wide and high, and hid
all the irmermost recesses of the shrine. Here he
waited, not knowing how he should break in upon the
Hathor,

As he stood wondering thus Ids buckler slipped from
his loosened hand and clashed upon the marble floor,
and as it clashed the voice of the Hathor took up the
broken song ; and thus she sang ever more sweetly : —

Gliosis ot tlie dead that have loved me, your love has been
vanquished by Death,
But imvanquished by Death is your Hate ;
Say, is there none, rliat may woo me and win me of all that draw
I'reatli,
Not one but is envied of Fite ?

None that may pass you iinwounded, unscathed of invisible
spears —
By the spleiuh>ur of Zeus there is one,
And he comes, and my spirit is touched as Demeter is touched
by the tears
Of the Spring and the kiss of the sun !

THE WARDENS OE THE HATE.

167

Fo* he comos, and iny heart that was chill an a lake in the scurt >ii
of snow,
Is niolt(ni, and ^Iowk as with tire.
And the Love tliat I knew not is born and he laiiglisin ni) iieurt,
and I know
The name and the flame of Desire.

As a tlaiue am I kindled, a flame that i« blown by a wind from
the North,
By a wind that is deadly with cold,
And the hope that awoke in me faints, {<\ the Love thai Ih bum
shall go tortli
To my Love, and shall die as of old t

Now the song sobbed its(!lf away, but tbo heart of
the Wanderer eclioed to its sweetness as a lyre moan'
and thrills when the hand of the striker is lilted fr<nn
the strings. ,

For a while he stood thus, hidden by the web upon
the loom, while his limbs shook like the leaves of the
tall f'oplar, and his face turned white as turn the poplar
leaves. Then desire overcame him, and a longing he
could not master, to look upon the face of her wlio sang,
and he seized the web upon the loom, and rent it with
a great rending noise, so that it fell dovn on eitiier side
of idm, and the gold coils rippled at his feet.

CHAPTER VII.

THK SHADOW [N THE SUN LIGHT.

Thk torn web fcsll — tlie last veil of the Strange
Hatlior. It fell, and all itn unravelled threads uf glit-
tering gold and scarlet rii)pled and coiled about the
Wandi rer's feet, and about the pillars of the loom.

The web was torn, the veil was rent, the labour was
lost, the pictured story of loves and wars yf&^ all
undone.

But there, white in the silvery dusk of the alabast,(jr
shrine, there w;is the visible Helen, the bride and the
daughter of Mystery, the World's Desire!

There shone that fabled loveliness of wliich no story
was too strange, of which all miracles seemed Orne.
There, her hands folded on her lap, her head bowed —
there sat she whose voice was the echo of all sweet
voices, she whose shape was the mirror of all fair
forms, she whose changeful beauty, so they said, was
the child of the changeful moon.

Helen sat in a chair of iv<jry, gleaming even tlirough
the sunshine of her outsjtreiid hair. She was clothed
in soft Iblds of white ; on her breast gleamed the (Star-
stone, the red stone of the sea-deeps that melts in the

THE SHADOW JN THE SUNLIGHT. 169

sinisliinc, l)iit that mcltod not on tlio breust of Iluli-n.
Moniunt by inoiiieMt I lie rod drops from the ruby heart
of the star fell on her snowy raiment, fell and vanisiied,
— fell and vaiushccl. — and l«3ft no stain.

The Wanderer looked on her face, but the beauty
and the terror of it, aa she raised it, were more than he
could bear, and he stood like those who saw the terror
and the beauty of that face whicli changes men to
stone.

For the lovely eyes of Helen stared wide, her lips, yet
([uivering with the last notes of soni:^, were open wide
in fear. She seemed like one who walks alone, and
suddenly, in the noonday light, meets the hated dead ;
encountering the ghost of an enemy come back to earth
with the instnnt summons of doom.

For a moment the sight of her terror made even the
Wanderer afraid. What was the horror she bcdield in
this haunted shrine, where was none save themselves
alone ? What was with them in the shrine ?

Then he ?aw that her eyes were fixed on his golden
armour which Paris once had worn, on the goldon shield
with the blazon of tlie White Bull, on the golden helm,
whose visor was down so that it quite hid his eyes and
his face — and the at last her voice broke from her :

'Paris! Paris! Paris! Has Death lost hold of
thee? Hast thou eoiae to drag me back to thee and
to shame ? Paris, dead Paris ! Who ijav<; thee courai^e
to pass the shadows of men whom on earth thou hadst
not daiH^l to face in war ? '

Then she wrung her hands, and laughed mIoiuI wi;h
the emjity laugh of fear.

170

THE WORLDS DESIRE.

k thoiiglit came into that crafty luiiid of the Wan-
-Icrcr's, .111 1 he answered her, not in his owa voice, but
in the suiootli, soft, mocking voice of the traitor Paris,
whom he had heard forswear himself in the oath before
llios.

SSo, hidy, thon hast not yet forgiven Paris ? Thou
'\vea\e.st the ancient web, thou singest the ancient songs
— ait thou SJtill unkind as of old ? '

'Why a»f, thou coinc back to taui\t me?' she said,
an(i now she spoke as if an old familiar fear and borror
were laying hold of her and mastering her again, after
loncf freedom. ' Was it not enough to betray me in the
semblance of my wedded lord ? VV'liy <lost thou nioik ? '

' In love all ;irts are fair,' he answered in the voice of
Paris. ' Many have love<l thee, Lady, and ihey are all
de;id for thy sake, and no love but min(3 has been more
strong than ileath. There is no iC to blame us now,
and none 10 hinder. Troy is down, the heroes are
white dust; only Love lives }et. Wilt thou not learn,
Lady, how a shadow can love?'

.She had listened with her head bowed, but now she
leaiK'd up with blazing eyes and face of fire,

'■ F)egone ! ' she said, ' the lieroes are dead for ray sake,
and to niv shame, but the shame i° ilvini; vet. Beirone !
Never in lile or deafh shall my lips touch the false
lips thai lied av\ay my hon<jur, and the false face that
wore the favour of my lord's.'

For it was by slia,})C!-shifting and magic art, as poets
tell, that Paris lir:.t beguiled Fair Helen.

Then the Wanderer spoke again with the sweet,
buiontii vwi (' of Parisj son of Priam.

THE SHADOW IN THE SUNUGHT 171

'As I passed up the shrine where thy glory dwells,
Helen, I heard thee sinfj. And thou didst sintj (,f' tlu^
waking of thy heart, of the arising of Love within tliy
soul, and of the coining of one for whom thmi dt'.st
wait, whom thou didst Inve long since and ^llalt Iovh
for evermore. And as thou sangest, 1 e.ime, 1 i'aris,
wlio was thy love, and who am thy love, and who alone
of ghosts and men shall b" thy love again. Wilt thou
still bid me go ? '

'I sang,' she answered, * yes, as the Gods ])ut it in
my heart so I sang — for indeed it m omed to me th.it oru.'
catne wl»o was my love of old, an<i whom uV\\w i must
love, alom.' for ever. But thou wast not in my lieart,
thou false Paris ! Nay, I will tell thee, and with tho
name will scare thoe back to Hell. H'- was in m}'
heart whom once as a maid I saw driving in his chariot
through the ford of Eurotas while I hoic water irem
tlie well. He was in nty heart whom once I saw in
Troy, when he crept tliither cLul in a he^o-ar's euise.
Ay, Paris, T will name him by his name, ior though lie
is long dead, yet him alone methinks I lovod from the
very first, and him alene I shall love till my deathle^s-
ness is done — Odysseus, son of Laertes, Odyss us uf
Ithaca, he was named among men, and Odysseus w;is
in my heart as I sang and iu my heart he shall e\er be,
thouLch the Gods in their wrath have given me to
others, to my shame, and pgainst my will.'

Now when the Wanderer heard her speak, and heard
his own name upQii h t lips, an<l knew that the Golden
Helen loved him alon,;, it sremed to liim as th(iiii;h i is
heart would bur^t his harness. No word couM he iind

172

THE JVORLirS DESIRE,

in his iioiirt to speak, but he raised the visor of his
helm. .

She looked — she saw and knew him for Odyssoiis —
even Odysseus of Ithaca. Then in turn she hid her
eyes with hci liauds, and speaking through them said :

' Oh, Paris ! ever wast thou false, but, gliost or man,
of all thy sliatnes this is the shamefullest. Thou hast
taken the likeness of a hero dead, and thou hast heard
me speak such words of him as He^en never spoke
before. Fie on thee, Paris ! fie on thee ! who wouldest
trick me into sliam>: as once before thou didst trick me
in the shape of Mcnelaus, who was my lord. Now I will
call on Zeus to blast thee with his bolts. Nay, not on
Zeus will I call, but on Odysseus' self. Odyssru.^ !
(klipsras ! (yome thou from the shades and smite this
Paris, tliis trickster, who even in death finds ways to
mock thee.'

She censed, and with eyes u])turued and arms out
stretched murmured, " Odysseus ! Odysseus! Come."

Slowly the Wanderer drew near to the glory of the
Golden HeleJi — slowly, slowly he came, till his dark
eyes looked into her eyes of blue. Then at last he
found his voice and s[>ake,

' Helen ! Argive Helen !' he said, ' 1 am no sliadow
come up from Hell to torment thee, and of Trojan Paris
1 know nothing. For I am Odysseus, Odysseus of
Ithaca, a living man beneath the sunlight. Hither ;im
1 come to seek thee, hither I am come to win thee to
Uiy heart. For yonder in Ithaca Ai)hrodite visited \\\q
in a dream, and bade me vvandji' out uj)on the fiens till
at length I found tln-e, Helen, aiid saw the Red Star

THE SHADOW IN THE SU MUG I IT.

blaze upon thy breast. And I have wandered, and J.
have dared, and I liave lieard thy song, and rent the
web of Fate, and I liave seen the Star, and lo ! at last,
at last! I find thee. Well I saw thou knewest tlie aruii:
of Paris, who was thy husbund, and to try thee I s{)()ke
with the voice of Paris, as of old thou didst fi'iL,n the
voices of our wives when we lay in the wooden horse
within the walls of Troy. Thus I ilrew the sweetness
of thy love from thy secret bteast, as the sun draws out
the sweetness of the flowers. But now I declare myself
to be Odysseus, chid in the mail of Paris — Odysseus
come on this last journey to be thy love and lord '
And he ceased.

She tiembled and looked at him doubtfully, but at
last she spoke :

' Well do T remember,' she said, ' that when I washed
the limbs of Odysseus, ii» the halls of Ilios, I marked a
ureat white scar beneath his knee. If indeed tlif>ii art
Odysseus, and not a phantom from the (Jods, show me
r.liat great scar.'

Then the Wanderer smileil, and, resting bis buc'd t
ag.'iinst the pillar of the loom, drew off his goldt'ii
<>reave, and there was the scar that the bi^ar dealt with
his tusk on the Parnassian hill when Odysseus \\>v>.
a boy.

'Look, Lady, lu^ said;' 'is this the scar that once
thine eyes looked on in the halls of 'I'my V

'Yea;' she said, 'it is thi very sca,r, and now I k <>'.v
that thou art no gh(r:;t an(\ no lying shape hut. ()d\s-
seus* self, come t(» be my love and lord,' ;iud )^\\y' looked
most sweetly in his eyes.

174

THE WORLDS DESIRE.

Now the Wan(i(irer wavered no more, but put out liis
arms to gatlier hor to his huart. Now the Rod Star
\s'as hidden on his breaat, now the red drops dripped
from the Star upon his mail, and the face of her wiio is
the World's Desire grew soft in the sliadow of Ids Ijelm,
while her eyes were molted to tears beneath his kiss.
The Gods send all lovers like joy !

Softly she sighed, softly di-ew back from his arms,
and her lips were opened to S])eak when a change came
over her face, 'rin.' kind eyes were full of fear again, as
sIh; gazed where, through the window of the shrine of
;dabaster, the sunlight fell in gold upon the chajH'i
floor. Whfit was that wluch flickered in the sun-
light? or was it only the dance of the motes in the
beam ? There was no shadow cast in the sunshine ;
why did she gaze as if she saw another watching
this meeting of their loves? However it chanced,
she mastered her feai" ; there was even a smile on her
li|is and mirth in her eyes as she turned and spoke
;igain.

' Odysseus, thou art indeed the cunningest of men.
Thou liast stoh'ti my secret by thy craft; wln) save
thee wouM (lre;im of craft in such nn hour? For when
I thought thee Paris, and thy fa e was hidden by thy
i'lm, I called on Oilysseus in my terror, as ■• child cries
to a mother. Methinks I have ever held him dear;
always I have found him ready at need, though the
(Jods have \M'u'd that till this hour my love might not
l)o known, nay, \\i>t iv nr: own heart; so T called on
Odysseus, and thost. wcaIs were wrung from me to
scare fidse P'lr'.-. bi; L U. tu.- own place, But the words

THE SHADOW IN THE SUNLIGHT. 175

tliat should have driveu Paris down to Hell drew
<)(lysseus to my lueasl. And now it is done, and I
will not go back upon Hij words, for we have kissed
our kiss of troth, betore t!ie immortal Gods have we
kissed, and those ghosts who guard the way to Helen,
and whom thou alone couldst pass, as it was fated, are
witnesses to our oath. And now the jj^hosts depart, for
no more need they guard the beauty of Helen. It is
given to thee to have and keep, and nv»w is Helen once
more a very woman, for at thy kiss the curse was
broken. Ah, friend! since my lord died in pleasant
Lacedaijmon, what things have I seen and suffered by
ti)e Gods' decree! But two things I will tell tliee,
Odysseus, and thou shalt read them as thou mayeat.
Though never before in thy life-days did tliy li})S touch
mine, yet I know that not now for the first time we
ki.ss. And this I know also, for the Gods have set it in
my heart, t.hat though our love shall be shert, and little
joy shall we have one of another, yet death shall n-t
end it. For, Odysseus, I am a daughter of tlie God.s,
and though I sleep and forget that which ! as been in
my sleep, and though my shape change as but now
seemed to change in the eyes of those ripe to die, yet I
die not. And for thee, though thou art mortal, death
shall be but as the short summer nights that mark 'tf
day from day. For thou shalt live agnin, OdysS' is as
thou hast lived before, and lite by life we shah uit-et
and love till the end is come.'

As the Wanderer listened lie thouu'ht once mor< of
that dream of Meriamun the Qu^^n, which the priest
Kei had told him. But he said nothing of it to H^-' n ;

176

THE WORLD'S DESIRE,

for about th(3 Queen aiul her words to hiin it seemed
wisest not to speak.

' It will be well to live, Lady, if life by life I find
thee for a love.'

' Life by life thou shalt find me, Odysseus, in tliis
shape or in that shalt thou find me — for beauty has
n\a,ny forms, and love has many names — but thou shalt
ever find me but to lose me a,i,'ain, I tell thee that as
but now thou woniiest thy way througii the ranks of
those who watch me, the cloud lifted from my mind, and
I remembered, and I foresaw, and I knew why I, the
loved of many, miglit never love in turn. I knew then,
Odysseus, that I am but the instrument of the Gods,
who use mo for their ends. And I knew that I loved
th(3e, and thee only, but with ;i love that began before
the birth-bed, and shall not be consumed by the funeral
flame.'

' So be it, Lady,' said the Wanderer, '• for this I know,
thjit never have I loved woman or Goddess as I love
thee, who art henceforth as the hearL in my breast, that
without which I may not live.'

' Now speak on,' she said, ' for such words as these
are like music in my cars.'

'Ay, I will speak on. Short shall be our love, thou
sayest, Lady, and my own heart tells me that it is born
to be brief of days. I know that now T go on my last
voyaging, and 'hat death comes upon me from the
water, the swift ist death that may be. This then I
would dare to ask ; When shall we twain be one ? 1^'or
if the hours of life be sliort, let us love while we may.'

Now Helen's golden hair fell before her eyes like

riJE SHADOW IN THE SL'\ LIGHT. 177

the bride's veil, and she w.-is silent f<ir a time. Tiirn
she spoke :

'Not now, and not, while I <lwell in tliis holy place
may we be wed, Odysseus, for so should we call down
upon us the hate of Gods and men. Tell ine, then,
where? thou dwellest in the city, and I will come to
thee. Nay, it is not nuM.'t. Hearken, Odysseus. To-
morrow, on(' hour before the midniL;ht, see that thou
dost stand without the pylon gates of this my temple ;
then I will pass out to thee as well 1 may, and thou
shalt know nie by the jewel, the St;u-.stone on my breast
that shines through the darkness, and by that ;dono, and
lead me whither thou wilt. For then thou shalt be my
lord, and I will be thy wife. And thereafter, ^^s tlie
Gods show us, so will we go For knovv, it ?; !•• my
mind to fly this land of Khem, where month by month
the Gods have made the people die for me. So till
then, farewell, Odysseus, my love, found after many days.*

' It is well, Lady,' answered the Wanderer. ' To-
morrow night I meet thee without the pylon gates. I
also am minded to fly this land of witchcraft and of
horror, but I may scarce depart till Pharaoh returu
again. For he has gone down to battle and has left me
to guard his ))ala je.'

* Of that we will calk hereafter. Go now ! Go swiftly,
for here we may not talk more of earthly love,' said the
Golden Hcden.

Then betook her liand and kissed it and pass(.'d from
before her glory as a man amazed.

B\it in his foolish wisdom he spoke no word to her of
Meriamuu the Queen.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE I,OOSIN(; OF THK SPIRIT OF REI.

Ret the Priest had Hed with what sp«*ed he niiiiht
froMi the Gates of Death, tliose gates that guardetl the
h)veliness of Helen and ojiened only up<Mi men (loonu-d
to die. The old man was heavy at heart, for he hjved
the Wanderer. Amoni;- the dark children of Khern he
Wi ri^en none like this AchcBiiti, none so goodly, so
strong, an<. io well versed in all arts of war. He
remenibere<l how this man had saved the life of her he
loved above all women — of Meriamnn, the moon-child,
the fairest queen who h>/l sat upon the throne of Egypt,
the fairest and the mosi learned, save Taia only. He
bethought hiiu of the Wanderer's beauty as he stood
upon the board while the long shafts hailed down tlie
hall. Then he recalled the vision of Meriaraun, which
she had told him lonsj vears ago, and the shadow in a
golden helm whu'h watched the changed Hataska. The
more he th(nig1it, the more he was perplexed and lost
in wonder. Wliat did the Gods intend ? Of one thing
he was sure : the leaders of the host of dreams had
mocked Meriamun. The man of her vision would never
be her love : he hnd gone to meet liis doom at the door
of the Chapid Perilous.

THE LOOSLVG OF TTIE SPfRlT OF RFJ 179

80 Rci hiisted on, stuinhlinL;' iti liis sjictMl, till ho
c.'UiH! to tlw Palace arMl pas^ifMi tliKMi^h its iialb towards
his chamber. At the entrance of her own place he met
Meriamiin the Queen. There she stood in the (hiorway
like a |)ictun^ in its SfMilptured frame, nor could any
siglit be more bea»itiful tlian she was, elad in her Royal
robes, and crowned with the golden snal<es. Her blaek
ha'.r lay soft and deep on her, and lur eyea looked
gcrani,'('ly f(.rth from beneatli the ivory of her brow.

He bowed low before her and would have ])assed on,
but slie stayed him.

'Whitlier gi^ost tliou, Rei ?,.' she asked, 'and why is
thy face so .^ad V

*I fjo about my busin"ss, Queen,' he answered, 'and
1 am sad because no tidings come of Pharaoh, nor of
liow it has fared with him and the host of the Apura.'

'Perchau'-e thou sneakesi truth, and yet not all the
tin til,' she answere(i. ' Enter, I would have speech
with tiiee.'

So he entered, and at her command seated himself
before her in the very seat where tlu; Wanderer had
sat. Now, as he sat thus, of a sudden Meriaimin the
Queen .slid to her knees before him, and tears were in
!ier eyes and her breast was shaken with sobti. And
while he wond<irpd, tliinking that she wept at last for
her son \vl. » was dead among the firstborn, s'le iiid her
face in her hands upoo his knees, and trembled.

' What ails thee. Queen, my fo-;terling ? ' he said.
But she only took his hand, and laid her own in it,
and the old priest's eyes were dim with tears So she
sat for awhile, and then she looked up, but still .she did

r8o

THE WORLiyS DESIRE.

not fiiul words. And lie caressi'd the huautif'id rnipcrial
head, that no rnim h;id seen boued before. ' What i^ it,
my daughter'''' he s;iid, and she answered at last;

'Hear nie, old friei.tl, who art niy only friend — for if
[ s{)eak not my hciiit, will surely bur.st , or if it break
not, my brain will burn and I shall be no iiiorc ;i Queen
but a living darkness, where vapours creep, and wan-
derin*' liuhts shine faintly on Th(.' ruin of niv luind.
Mindest thou that hour — it was . night after the
hateful night that saw me TMiaraoh's wife — wlien I crept
to thee and told thee the vision that had come upon
my ;soui, had come to m'K;k me even at Pharaoh's side ? '

'I mind it well,' said R(<i ; ' it was a strange vision,
nor. might my wisdom intei pret it.'

* And mindest thuu what f told thee of the man of
my vision — the glorious man whom I must love, he who
was clad in golden armour and wore a golden helm
wherein a spear-point uf bronze stood fast?*

'Yes, I mind it.' said Rei,

'And how is that man named?' she asked, whisper-
ing, and staring on him with wide eyes. ' Is he not
na!ne<l Kperitus, the Wainlerer!* And hath he not
come hither, the s)»ear-])oinL in liis helm ? And is not
the hand of Fate upon me, Meriamun ? Hearken, llei,
hearken ! I love; him as it was rated 1 vshould love.
Wlieri first I looked on him as he came up the Hall of
Audience in his glory, I knew him. 1 knew liim for
that man who shares the curse laid aforetime on him,
and on the woman, and on me. when, in an unknown
place, twain became three and were doomed to strive
.from life to 'ill' and woik each other's woe upon the

THE LOOSLWG OF THE SP/K/T 01 Kl I. iHi

(jartli. r k»iow hiru, Rei, t!i()UL,'li 'ic knew uic not, .Mini
I say that my soul shook at tl»o echo of liis stt!|), and
my lieart blossonuul as tho black oarth hl<»s oni.s when
after flood Sihor seeks his banks aj^'ain A gl*'ry ramo
ii[ion nic, Rei, and I lookrd bark throiuh all the inistH
of time and knew him for my love, and 1 looked forwaid
into the (U^pths of tinn; to be and knew him fur my
love. Then I looked (»n the present houi, aii'l naught
could I see but darkness, and na,u-i\t could \ lnai
but the groans of dying men and a. shrill sound as ol
a wotuan singing.'

' An ill tale, Quci.^i,' said Rei.

' Ay, an ill tah', Rei, but half untold. Hearken
again, I will tell tlu'e all. Madness hatli entered into
me from Oie Hathorof Atarhechis. the ^^ut en of Desire
I am mad with K)ve, even I who never loved. Oh, Rei I
Rei! I would wm tins man. Nay, look not so sternly
on me, it is Fc'te that drives me on. J^ast idght 1 spoke
t,o him and discovered to him the name lie hides from
us, his own name, Odysseus, Laertes' sr)n, Odys.si-us of
Ithaca. Ay, thou start est, but so it is. I Icarin d it by
my magic, and wrung the trutli even from the guile of
the most crafty of men. But it si-emed to \\\i that he
turned from me, thougii this much 1 won Iron him,
that he had journeyed from far to seek me. the iiride
that the Ouds have promised him.'

The priest leaped up from his .seat. ' La iy ! ' he
cried, 'Lady! wlu^m I .serve and whom I have loved
from a clnld, thy brain is sick, and not thy heart. Thou
canst not love him. Dost idou not rememlter that thou
art Qu(,en of Khem an^i riiaiaoh.s wife? Wilt liou

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i8a

THE nORLiyS DESIRE.

throw thy lionour in the mire to be trampled by a
wandering stranger?'

* Ay,' slie answered, T am Queen of Khem and
Pharaoh's wife, but never Pluiraoh's love. Honour !
Why dost thou prate to nie of honour ? Like Nile in
flood, my love hatli burst the bulwark of my honou'*
and I mark not wheie custom set it. For all around
the waters seethe and foam, and on them, like a broken
lily, floats the wreck of my lost honour. Talk not to
me of honour, Rei, teach nie rather how I may win my
hero to my arms/

'Thou art mad indeed,' he j^^roaned ; 'nevertheless — I
had forgotten,- — this must needs en('. in words and tears.
Meriamun, J brinor thee tidings. He whom thou desirest
is lost to thee for ever — to thee and all the world.'

She heard, then sprang from the couch and stood
over him like a lioness over a smitten stag, her fierce
and lovely face alive with rage and %ar.

* Is h3 dead ? ' she hissed in his ear. ' Dead ! and I
knew it not? Then thou hast murdered him, and thus
I avenge his murder.' .

With the word she snatched a dagger from her girdle
— that same dagger with which she once had struck at
Meneptah her brother, when he would have kissed her
— and high it flashed above Rei the Priest.

'Nay,' she went on, letting the knife fall; 'after
another fashion shalt thou die — more slowly, Rei, yes,
more slowly. Thou knowest the torment of the palm-
tree ? By that thou shalt die ! ' She paused, and stood
above him with quivering limbs, and breast that heave.!,
and eyes that flashed like stars.

THE LOOSING OF THE SPIRIT OF RKI 183

* Stay ! stay !' he cried. ' It is not I who have slain
this Wanderer, if he indeed is dead, but liis own folly.
For he is gone up to look upon the Strange Har,hor,
and those who look upon the Hathor do battle with the
Unseen Swords, and tluvse who do battle with the
Unseen Swords must lie in the baths of brcMizo and
seek the Under World.'

The face of L-Ieriamun grew white at this word, as
the alabaster of the walls, and she cried aloud with a
great cry. Then she sank upon the couch, pressing her
hand to her brow and moaning :

* How may I save him ? How may I save liim from
that accursed witch ? Alas ! It is too late — but at
least I will know his end, ay, and hear of the beauty of
her who slays him. Rei,' she whispered, not in tlie
speech of Khem, but in the dead tongue of a dead
people, * be not wrath with me. Oh, have pity on my
weakness. Thou knowest of the Putting- forth of the
Spirit, — is it not so ? '

' I am instructed,' he answered, in the same speech ;
* 'twas I who taught thee this art, I, and that Ancie^vt
Evil which is thine.*

* True — it was thou, Rei. Thou hast ever loved nie,
so thou swearest, and many a deed of dread have we
dared together. Lend me thy Spirit, Rei, that I may
send it forth to the Temple of the False Hathor, and
learn what passes in the temple, and of the death of
him — whom I must love.*

' An ill deed, Meriamun, and a fearful,' he answered,
•for there shall my Spirit meet tliem who watch the
gates, and who knows what may chance when the

1 84

THE WORLD'S DESIRE.

btxliloas one that yet hath earthly hfc meets the bcKliless
ones who live no more on earth ?'

' Yet wilt thou dare it, Rci, for love of me, as being
instruetetl thou alone canst do,' she pleaded.

' Never have I refuseil thee iiught, Meriamun, nor
will 1 say thee nay. This only I ask (jf thee — that if
my Spirit comes back no more, then wilt bury me in
that tomb which I have made ready by Thebes, and if
it may be, by thy strength oi" magic wring me from the
power of the strange Wardens. I am prepared — thou
know<ist the spell — s;(y it.'

He sank ba<;k in the carven ronch, and looked
upwards. Then Meriamun drew near to him, gazed
into his eyos and whisi)ere(l in his ear in that dead
tongue sin- knew. And as she whis[n'red the face of
llei grew like the face of one dead. She drew back
and spi>ke aloud :

'Art thou loosed, Spirit of Rei V

Then the lips of Rei answered her, .saying : 'I am
loosed, MeriaiiiuM. Whitlier shall I go ? '

' To the c<»urt of the Templ(> of Hathor, that is before
the sln'ine."

' It is done, Meriamun.'

' What seest thou ? '

' I see a man clad in golden armour. He stands
with biuikler raised before the doorway of the shrine,
and bef<»ro him are the ghosts of heroes dead, though
he nuiy not see them with the eyes of the flesh. From
within the shrine there comes a sound of singing, and
he listens to the singing.'
' What does he hear ? '

,!,■.••#

THE LOOSING OF THE sriiaT 01' RKI. 185

Then the loosed Sj)irit ot Rei iXw I'riosl told
Meri;iinuii tlio Queon all ilie words ot" the song tliat
Helen sang. And when shi; iMMid and knew that it
was Argive Htleii who sat in the lialls of Hathor, the
heart of the Quien grew faint within her, and her
knees treinhled. Y(^t more did she tremble wiien slie
learned tliose words that rang like the words she herself
had heard in her vision loufj auo — telling; of bliss that
had been, of the hate of the Gods, and of the unending
Quest.

Now the song ended, and the Wmderer went np
against the ghosts, and the Spiiit of Rei, speaking with
the lips of Rei, told all thai befell, while Meriamiui
hearkened with o))en eais — ay, and cricid aloud witli
joy when the Wanderer forced his path tlnough the
invisible swords.

Tlien once more the sweet voice sang and the loosed
Spirit of Rei told the words she sang, and to Meriamun
they seemed fateful. Then he told her all the talk
that passed Vjetween the Wanderer and the ghosts.

Now the ghosts being gone she bade the Spirit of
Rei follow the Wanderer up the sanctuary, and from the
loosed Spirit she heard how he rent the web, and of all
the words of Helen and of the ; raft of liim who feigned
to be Paris. Then the web was torn and the eyes of
the Spirit of Rei looked on the beauty of her who was
behind it.

'Tell me of tlie face of the False Hathor? ' said the
Queen.

And the Spirit of Rei answ(M-ed : ' \\k\ face is that
beauty which gathered like a ma-k iijion the face of

1 86

THE IVOR Las DESIRE.

deaH Hatnska, and upon tlie face of the Bai, and the
face of the Ka, when thou spakcst with the spirit of
her thou hadst slain.'

Now Meriarn»in groaned aloud, for she knew that
doom was on her. Last of all, she heard the telling of
the loves oi Odysseus and of Helen, her undying foe,
of their kiss, of their betrothal, and of that marriage
which sliould be on the morrow night. Meriamun the
Q en said never a word, but when all was done and
the Wanderer had loft the shrine again, she whispered
in the ear of Rei the Priest, and drew back his Spirit to
him so that he awoke as a man awakes from sleep.

He awoke and saw the Queen sitting over against
him with a face white as the face of the dead, and
about her deep eyes were lines of black.

* Hast thou heard, Meriamun ? ' he asked.

'I have heard,' she answere'l.

*VVhat dreadful thing hast thou heard?* he asked
again, for he knew naught of that which his Spirit
had seen.

' I have heard things that may not be told,' said said,
* but this I will tell thee. He of whom we spoke hath
passed the ghosts, he hath met with the False Hathor
— that accursed woman — and he returns here all

unharmed.

Now ^u,

Rei I'

CHAPTER IX.

THE WAKING OF THE SLEEPER.

Rei departed, wondering and heavy at heart, and
Merianiun the Queen passed into her bed-chamber, and
the.e she bade the eunuchs suff>^r none to enter, made
fast the doors, and threw herself down upon the bed,
hiding her face in its woven cushions. Thus she lay
for many hours as one dead — till the darkness of the
evening gathered in the chamber. But though she
moved not, yet in her heart there burned a fire, now
white with heat as the breath of lier passion fanned it,
and now waning black and dull as the tears fell from
her eyes. For now she knew all, — that tiie long fore-
boding, sometimes dreaded, sometimes desired, and
again, like a dream, half forgotten, was indeed being
fulfilled. She knew of the devouring love that nmst
eat her life away, knew that even in the grave she
should find no rest. And her foe was no longer a face
beheld in a vision, but a living woman, the fairest and
most favoured, Helen of Troy, Argive Helen, the False
Hathor, the torch that fired gieat cities, the centre of
all desire, whose life was the daily doom of men.

1 88

THE WORLD'S DESIRE.

Meriainun was beautiful, h\it, lier beauty paled befon;
the face ol Helen as a fire is shiin by the sun. Maj^ic
she had also, more than any who were on the earth ;
but what wotdd her spells avail against the magic of
those chan-'intr eves? And it was Helen whom the
Wanderer efiine t(» seek, lor her he hml travelled the
wide lands and siiled the seas. But when he told her
of one whom he desireil, one vvhoui he sought, she had
deemed that she herself was that one, ay, and had told
him all.

At that thou<.,dit she laughed out, in the madness of
her anger and lier shame. And he had smiled and
spoken of Pharaoh her lord — and tlie while he spoke
he had thought not on her but of the (jolden Helen.
Now this at least she swore, that if he might not be
hers, never should he be Helen's. She v,ould see him
dead ere that hour, a^, and herself, and if it might be,
Helen would she see dead also.

To what counsel should slie turn ? On tlie morrow
night these two met ; on the morrow night they would
fly together. Then on the morrow must the Wanderer
be slain. How should he be slain and leave no tale of
murder? By poisnn he might die, and Kurri the
Sidonian should be cliarged to give the cup. And then
she woidd slay Kurri, raying that hf- had poisoned the
Wanderer because of his hate and the loss of his goods
and freedoin ; and yet how could she slay her ^ove ? If
once she slew him then she, too, must die and seek her
joy in the kingdom that Osiris rules, and there she
mii(ht find little gladness.

What, then, should .she do? No answer came into

THE W.iKING OF TfFE SLEEPER. 180

her heart. There was one that must answer in h<r
soul.

Ni " she nmo iroin the bed an<l stood for awhile
stariiii,' into the dark. Tlien she groped lier way to :i
pliee where there wa.s a carven chest of olive-wood and
ivory, und drawing a key from lier girdle she opc'tied
the chest. Within were jewehs, mirrors, md unguents
in jars of alabasster — ay, and poisons of deadly bwne ;
but she touched none of these. Thrusting lier hand
deep into the chest, she drew fortli a casket of dark
metal that the people deemed unholy, a casket made
of ' Typhon's Bone,' for so they call gray iron. She
pressed a secret spring. It opened, and feeling within
she found a smaller casket. Lifting it to her lips she
whispered over it words of no living speech, and in the
heavy and scented dark a low flame flickered and trcjm-
bled on her lips, as slie murmured in the tongue of a
dead people. Tlien slowly the lid opened of itbelf, like
a living mouth that opens, and as it opened, a gleam
of light stole up from the box into the dusk of the
chamber.

Now Meriamnn looked, and shuddered as she looked.
Y(;t she put her hand into the box, and muttering,
'Come forth — come forth, thou Ancient Evil,' drew
somewhat to her and held it out from her on the palm
of her hand. Behold, it glowed in the dusk of the
chamber iis a live ember glows among the ashes of the
hearth. Red it glowed, and green, and white, and livid
blue, and its shnpe, as it lay upon her hand, was the
shfipe of a coiling snake, cut, as it were, in oi):d and in
emerald.

190

THE WORLD'S DESIRE.

For awhilu she gazed u{)oit it, Hhuddering, as une ia
doubt.

* Mil: led am I to lot Uice sleep, thou Horror* she
murmured. 'Twice have 1 lookod on thee, and I would
look no more. Nay, I will dare it, tliou gift of tlm old
wisdom, thou frozen fire, th(»u sleeping Sin, thon living
Death of the Death of the ancient city, for thou alone
hast wis(iom.'

Thereon she unclasped the bosom of her robe and
laid the gleaming toy, that seemed a snake ol stone,
upon her ivory breast, tliough she trembled at its icy
touch, for it was mi^e cold than death. With both
her hands she clasped a pillar of the chamber, and so
stood, and she was shaken with throes like the pongs of
childbirth. Thus she endured awhile till that which
was a-cold grew warm, watching its brightness that
shone through her silken dress as the Hame of a lamp
shines through an alabister vase. So she stood for an
hour, then swiftly put off all her robes and ornaments
of gold, and loosing the dark masses of her hair let it
fall round her like a veil. Now she bent her head
down to her breast, and breathed on that which lay
upon her breast, for the Ancient Evil can live only in
the breath of human kind. Thrice she breathed up<m
it, thrice she whispered, ' Awake. ! Awake ! Aivake !'

And the first time that she breathed the Thing
stirred and sparkled. The second time that she
breathed it undid its shining folds and reared its head
to hers. The third time that she breathed it slid from
her bosom to the floor, then coiled itself about her feet
and slowly grew as grows the magician's n.aoic tree.

THE il'AKI.VG OF 77//'. SfJ-J'.r/i/^ 19.

Greater it gp-w hihI ^n.'ater yet. and as it grew it
shunt' like a torch in a tomb, .md wound itM-ltidKnit tlio
bo<ly nf Meriarnun, wrapjnng l»er in its liery folds till it
readied her middle. Then it reared its head on higli,
and from its eyes there flowed a light like the light ol
a tlame, and lo ! its tace was the face of a fair woniaa —
it was ihe face of Meriamnn !

Now face looked on face, and eyc^s glared into eyes.
Still as a white statne of the (Jods stood Mcriainun the
Queen, and all about her foiin and in and out of her
dark hair twined the flaming sriaUe.

At lengtli the Evil s[)oke-- spoke wi(h a human voice,
with the voice of Meriauiun, but in the dead speech ai
a dead people :

'Tell me my name,' it said.

* Sin is tliy naiue,' answered Meria nun the Queen.

'Tell me vvhen(e I come,' it said again.

'From the evil that is in me,' answered Mi-riamun.

' Tell me whither I go.'

' Where I go there thou goest, for T have warmed
thee in my breast and thou ait twined about my heart.'

Then the Snake lifted up its human head and
laughed horribly.

'Well art thou instructed,' it said. 'So I love thee
as thou iovest me,' and it bent itself and kiss«.'d her on
the lips. *I am that Ancient Evil, that Life which
endures out of th(! first death ; I am that Death w Inch
abides in the livintj life. I am tliat which brouirht on
thee the woe that is in division from the Heart's Desire,
and the name thereof is Hell. From Life to Life thou
has^ found me at thy hand, now in this shaj ^, now in

Ujl

THE woKi Ds nrsiRE.

that. I taiinlit tlii't^ tlu! rmi'^ic wliicli iliou knowoHt, I
hliowoil tluM' liow to will tlir 'lliiotu!! Now, wliat, wilt
i.liou of me, Mfriarnun, my Mother, my Sistor, and my
Child <• b'lnin Lit'o to Lile I liave Im^uii with thee;
ever tho i ini^htfst have put me from tlifc, c;ver thou
flie.st to the wisdinn which I liavo, ami ev»'r from thee
I draw my .stron<jjth, for t}ioiij;h without me tliou
miujhte'st live, without thfc I must die. Say now, what
is it y — tell me, niid I will name my prie(!. No more
will I ask than must be, for — ah ! — I am glad to wake
and live \v^\\\\ , glad to grip thy soul within these
Bhiniug folds, to be fair witii thy beauty ! — to be foul
with thy f*in ' '

'Lay thy lips ai'iinst my ear and thine ear against
my lips,' said Mcriiunun tlic i^uetii, 'and I will say what
it is that 1 will of tlee, tln.u Ancient Evil.'

So the human-hcadt (I Kvil laid its oar against tho
lips of iVLriamun, and Menamuu laid her lips against
its ears, and they whispeied each to each. I'here in
the darkness they uliispereil, while the witeh light
glittered down the gray snake's shining folds, beamed
iu its eyes, and shone through the Queen's dark hair
and on her snowy breast.

At length tlie tale was told, and the Snake lifted its
woman's head high in the air and again it laughed.

'He seeks the Good,' it said, 'and he shall find the
III ! He looks for Light, and in Darkness shall he
wander ! To Love he turns, in Lust he shall be lost !
He woi dd win the Golden Helen, whom he has sought
through many a war, whom he has followed o'er many
a sea, but first shall he find thee. Meriamun, and

THE WAKING OF THE SLEEPER, 193

iliroii^li thee IX-uth ! For he shall swear by the Snako
who should have sworn by the Star. Far h.ith he wan-
ilerud — further shall he wamler yet, for thy sin shall
bo his sin ! Darkness shall wear the face of Li>(ht —
Evil shall shine like Good. I will give him to thee,
Meriainuu, but, hearken to my price. No more mn:st
I be laid cold in the gloom while thou walkest in the
sunsliine — nay, I must bt twined abt^ut thy l)ody. Fear
not, fear not, I shall setin but a jewel in the eyes of
men, a girdle fashioned cunningly lor the body of a
queen. But with thee henceforth I Tiiust ever go — and
when thou die.st, with thee must 1 die, au<l with thee
pass where thou dost pa.ss — with tliee to sleep, with
thee to awake again — and so, on and on, till in the end
I win or thou wiunest. or she wins who is our foe ! '

' I give thee thy price,' said Meriamun the Queen.

' So once before ihou didst give it,' answeretl the Evil;
* ay, far, far away, beneath a golden .sky and in another
clime. Happy wast thou then with liim thou dost
desire, but 1 twined myself about thy he-Tt and of
twain came three and all the sorrow that has been. So
woman thou hast worked, so woman it is ordained. For
thou art she in whom all woes are gathered, in whom
all love is fulfilled. And I have dragged thy glory
down, woman, and 1 have loosed thee from thy gentle-
ness, and set it free upon the earth, and Beauty is !-he
named. By beauty doth »h,e, work who is the Golden
Helen, and for Iter beauty's sake, that all men strive to
win, are wars and woes, are hopes and [)rayera, and
longings without end. But by Evil dost thiroj work who
art divorced from Innocence, and evil shalt thou ever

194

THE WORLJyS DESIRE.

bring on him wliotn thou tlesirest, A riddle! A
riddle ! Read it wiio may — rond it if thou canst, thor.
who art named Meriamuii and Queen, but who art less
tlian Queen and more. Who art thou ? Who is she
they named tlie Helen ? Who is that W^uiderer who
seeks her from afar, and who, who ani // A riddle ! a
riddle! that thou mayst not read. Yet is the answe-r
written on earth and . ky and sea, and in the hearts of men.

'Now hearken! To-morrow night thou shalt take
me and twine me about thy body, doing as 1 bid thee,
and behold ! for a while thy shape shall wear the shaj.e
of the Golden Helen, and thy face shall be a? her face,
and thine eyes as her eyes, and thy voice as her voice.
Then I leave the rest to thee, for as Helen's self thou
shalt beguile the Wanderer, and once, if once oniy, be a
wife to him whmi thou desirest. Nnught can I tell
thee of the future, 1 wlio am but a counsellor, but here-
after it may be that woes will tome, woes and wars and
death. But what matter tliese when thou hast had thy
desire, when he hub sinned, and hath sworn by the
Snake who should have sworn by the Star, and when
he ih I.' -und to thee by ties that may not be loosed ?
Cboov':' 2itriamun, choose ! Put my counsel from thee
Olid tr. iri()rrf>w this man thou lovest shall be lost to
ti^'^f , lost in the arms of Helen ; and alone for many
years shalt chou bear the burden of thy lonely love
Take it, and he shall at least be thine, let come what
may come. Think on it and choose!'

Thus spake the Ancient Evil, tempting her who
was named Meruuuun, while she hearkened to the
tempting.

THE WAKING OF THE SLEEPER, 195

'I have chosen,' she saul; 'I will wear the shape of
Helen, and be a wife to him I love, and then let ruin
fall. Sleep, thou Ancient Evil. Slec^p, for no more
may I endure thy face of fear that is my face, nor the
light of those flaming eyes that are ray eyes made
mad.' •

Again the Tiling reared its human head and lauglied
out in triumph. Then slov ly it unloosed its gleaming
Coils : slowly it slid to the earth and slirank and
withered like a flaming scioll, till at length it seemed
once more but a shining jewel of opal and of amethyst.

« « 4t « «

The Wanderer, when he left the inner secret shrine,
saw no more the guardians of the gates, nor heai'd the
clash of the swords unseen, for the Gods liad given tlie
beauty of Helen to Odysseus of Ithaca, as it was
foretold.

Without the curtains tlie priests of the temple were
gathered wondering — little could tliey understand how
it ' ame to pass that the hero who was called Eperitus
had vanished through the curtains and had not l)(;en
smitten down by the unseen swords. And when they
saw him come forth glorious and unharmed they cried
aloud with fear.

But he laughed and said, ' Fear not. Victory is to
him whom the Gods appoint. \ have <lone battU3 with
the wardens of the shrine, and passed them, aiul
niethinks that .hey are gone. I have looked upon the
Hathor also, and more than that seek ye not to know.
Now give me food, for 1 am weary.'

So they bowed before him, and hachng him Ihrm^e to

196

THE WORLD'S DESIRE.

their chamber of banquets gave him of their best, and
watched hii«^ while he ate and drank and put from him
the desire ol lood.

Then lie rose and went from the temple, and aj. lin
the priests bowed before him. Moreover, they ^.ive
him freedom of the temple, and keys whereby all
the doors night be opened, though Httle, as they
thouglit, liad he any need of keys.

Now the Wanderer, walking gladly and light of heart,
came to his own lodging in the courts of the Palace.
At the door of the lodging stood Rei the Priest, who,
when he saw him, ran to him and embraced him, so
glad was he that the Wanderer had escaped alive.

' Little did I think to look upon thee again,
Eperitus,* he said. ' Had it not been for that which

the Queen ' and he bethought himself and stayed

his speech.

* Nevertheless, here T am unhurt, of ghost or men,'
the Wanderer answered, laughing, as he passed into the
lodging. ' But what of the Queen ? '

• Nauglit, Eperitus, naught, save that she was grieved
when she learned that thou hadst gone up to the
Temple of the Hathor, there, as she thought, to perish.
Hearken, thou Eperitus, I know not if thou art God or
man, but oath» are binding b'^th on men and Gods, and
thou didst swear an oath to Pharaoh — is it not so ? '

' Ay, Rei. I swore an oath that I would guard the
Queen well till Pharaoh came acrain.'

'Art thou min<lod to keep that oath, Eperitus?*
asked Rei, looking on liim strangely. 'Art thou
minded to guard the fair fame of Pharaoh's Q'lsen, that

THE WAKING OF THE SLEEJER. T97

is more precious than her life ? Methinks thou dost
understand ray meaning, Eperitus ? '

'Perchance I understand,' answered the Wanderer.
'Know, Rei, that I am so minded.'

Then Rei spake again, darkly. ' Methinks some
sickness hath smitten Meriamun the Queen, and she
craves thee for her physician. Now things come about
as they were foreshown in the portent of that vision
whereof I spoke to thee. But if thou dost break thy
oath to him whose salt thou eatest, then, Eperitus, God
or man, thou art a dastard.'

'Have I not said that I have no mind so to break
mine oath ? ' he answered, then sank his head upon his
breast and communed with his crafty heart while Rei
watched him. Presently he lifted up his head and
spoke :

' Rei,' he said, ' I am minded to tell thee a strange
story and a true, for this T see, that our will runs one
way, and ;hou canst help me, and, in helping me, thyself
and Pharaoh to whom I swore an oath, and her wl»ose
honour thou boldest dear. But this I warn thee, Rei,
that if thou dost betray me, not thine age, not thy office,
nor the friendship thou hast shown me, shall save
thee.'

'Speak on, Odysseus, Laertes' son, Odysseus of
Ithaca,' said Rei ; ' may my life be forfeit if I betray thy
counsel, if it harm not those I serve.'

Now the Wanderer started to his feet, crying :

* How knowest thou that name ? '

'I know it,' said Rei, 'and I tell thee tliat I know it,
thou most crafty of men, to show this, that with me thy

198

THE WORLiyS DESIRE,

guile will not avail thee.' For he would not tell him
that he had it from tlie lips of the Queen.

' Thou hast hoard a name that has been in the
muuths of man3%' said the Wanderer ; * perchance it is
mine, perchance it is the name of another. It matters
not. Now know this: I fear this Queen of thine.
Hither T cann to seek a woman, but the Queen I came
not to seek. Yet I have not come in vain, for yonder,
Rei, yonder, in the Temple of the Hathor, I found her
on whose quest I came, and who awaited me there well
guarded till I should come to take her. On the
morrow night I go forth to the temple, and there, uy
the gates of the temple, I shall find her whom all men
desire, but who loves me alone among men, for «o it has
been fated of th^ Gods. Thence I bring her hither
that here we may be wed. Now this is my mind • if
thou wilt aid me with a ship and men, that at the first
light of dawn we should flee this land of thine, and that
thou shouldst keep my going secret for awhile till I
have gained the sea. True it is that I swore to guard
the Queen till Pharaoh come again; but as thou
knowest, things are so that I can best guard her by
my flight, and if Pharaoh thinks ill of me — so it
must be. Moreover I ask thee to meet me by the
pylon of the Temple of Hathor to-morrow at one
hour before midnight. There will we talk with her
who is called the Hathor, and prepare our flight, and
thence thou shalt go to that ship which thou hast
made ready/

Now Rei thought awhile and answered :

* Somewhat I fear to look upon this Goddess, yet I

THE WAKING OF THE SLEEPER. 199

will dare it Tell me, then, how shall I know her at
the temple's gate?.'

'TIjou shalt know her, Rei, by the red star which
burns upon her breast. But fear not, for I will be
tiiere. Say, wilt thou make the ship ready ? '

' The ship shall be ready, Eperitus, and though I love
thee well, I say this, that I would it rode the waves
which roll around the shores of Khera and thou wert in
it, and with thee she who is called the Eathor, that
Goddess whom thou desirest.'

{ I

CHAPTER X.

THE OATH OF THE WANDERER.

That night tlie Wanderer saw not Meriamun, but on
the morrow she sent a messenger to him, bidding him
to her feast that night. He had little heart to go, but
a Queen's courtesy is a command, and he went at sun-
down. Rei also went to the feast, and as he went,
meeting the Wanderer in the ante-chamber, he whis-
pered to him that all things were made ready, that a
good ship waited him in the harbour, the very ship
that he had captured from the Sidonians, and that
he, Rei, would be with him by the pylon gate of the
temple one hour before midnight.

Presently, as he whispered, the doors were flung wide
and Meriamun the Queen passed in, followed by
eunuchs and waiting-women. She was royally arrayed,
her face was pale and cold, but her great eyes
glowed in it. Low the Wanderer bowed before her.
She bent her head in answer, then gave him her hand,
and he led her to the feast. They sat there side by
side, but the Queen spoke little, and that little of
Pharaoh and the host of the Apura, from whom no
tidings came.

THE OATH OF THE WANDERER. 201

When at length the feast was done, MiTiarniui bade
the Wanderer to her private chamber, and tliitlier lie
went for awhile, though sorely against his will. But
Rei came not in with them, and thus he was left alone
with the Queen, for she dismissed the waiting ladies.

When they had gone there was silence for a space,
but ever the Wanderer felt the eyes of Moriamun
watching him as though they would read his heart.

' I am weary,' she said, at length. ' Tell me of thy
wanderings, Odysseus of Ithaca — nay, tell me of the
siege of Ilios and of the sinful Helen, who brought all
these woes about. Ay, and tell me how thou didst
creep from the leaguer of the Achaeans, and, wrapped in
a beggar's weeds, seek speech of this evil Helen, now
justly slain of the angry Gods.'

' Justly slain is she indeed,' answered the crafty
Wanderer. ' An ill thing is it, truly, that the lives of
so many heroes should be lost because of the beauty of
a faithless woman. I had it in my own heart to slay
her when I spoke with her in Troy town, but the
Gods held my hand.*

' Was it so, indeed ? ' said the Queen, smiling darkly.
' Doubtless if yet she lived, and thou sawest her, thou
wouldst slay J^er. Is it not so, Odysseus ? '

' She lives no more, Queen ! ' he answered.

' Nay, she lives no more, Odysseus. Now tell nie ;
yesterday thou wentest up to the Temple of the
Hathor ; tell me what thou didst see in the temple.

' I saw a fair woman, or, perchance, an immortal
Goddess, stand upon the pylon brow, and as s1;o st.Dil
and sang those who looked were bo cf 'i tvuson. And

202

THE WORr.nS DESTRR.

tliLTCMrttT some trie«l tu pass tlu: gho^;ls who guiir(le<l
the woman, and wore slain of invisible swords. It was
a strange sight to see.'

' A strange sight, truly. But thou didst not lose thy
craft, Odysseus, nor try to break througli the ghosts ? '

' Nay, Meriamun. In my youth I have looked upon
the beauty of Argive Helen, who was fairer than she who
stood upon the pylon tower. None who have looked
upon the Helen would seek to win the Hathor.'

' But, perchance, those who have lo(iked upon the
Hathor may seek to win the Helen,' she answered
slowly, and he knew not what to say, for he felt the
power of her magic on him.

So for awhile they spoke, and Meriamun, knowing
all, wondered much at the guile of tlie Wantlerer, but
she showed no wonder in her (ace. At length he rose
and, bowing before her, said that he must visit the
guard that watched the Palac^e gates. She looked
upon him strangely and bade him go. Then he went,
and right glad he was thus to be free of her.

But vvhen the curtains had swung behind him,
Meriamun the Queen sprang tt) her feet, and a dread-
ful light of daring burned in her eye.s. She clapped
her hands, and bade thoAe who came to her seek their
rest, as she would also, for she was weary and needed
none to wait upon her. So the women went, leaving
her alone, and she passed into her sleeping chamber.

' Now must the bride deck herself for the bridal,' she
saiJ, and straightway, pusiiig not, drew forth the
Ancient Evil from its hiding-place and warmed it on
her breast, breathing the breath of lile into its nostrils.

THE OATH OF THE WANDERER. 203

Now, as before, it grew and wound itself about her,
and wliispered in her ear, bidding her clothe herself in
bridal white and clasp the Evil around her; then think
upon the beauty she had seen gather on the face of
(lead Hataska in the Temple of Osiris, and on the face of
the Bai, and the face of the Ka. She did its command,
fearing nothing, for her heart was alight with love,
and torn with jealous hate, and little d i slie reck of
the sorrows which her pin should bring forth. So she
bathed herself in perfumes, shook out her shiniug hair,
and clad herself in white attire. Then she looked
upon her beauty in the mirror of silver, and cried in the
bitterness of her heart to the Evil that lay beside her
like a snake asleep.

* Ah, am I not friir enow to win him whom I love ?
Say, thou Evil, must I indeed steal the beauty of
another to win him whom I love ?'

' This must thou do,' said the Evil, * or lose him in
Helen's arms For though thou art fair, yet is she
Beauty's self, and her gentleness he loves, and not thy
pride. Choose, choose s\\ iftly, for presently the Wan
derer goes forth to win the Golden Helen.'

Then she doubted no more, but lifting the shining
Evil, held it to her. With a dreadful laugh it twined
itself about her, and lo ! it shrank to the shape of a
girdling, double-headed snake of gold, with eyes of ruby
flame. And as it shrank Meriamun the Queen thought
on the beauty she had seen upon the face of dead
Hataska, on the face of the Bai, and the face of the Ka,
and all the while she watched her beauty in the mirror.
And as she watched, behold, her face grew as the face

ao4

THE WORLiyS DESIRE.

of death, ashen and hollow, then slowly burned into life
again — but all her lovelint'sa was chan«,'ed. Changed
wore her dark locks to locks of goM, changed were her
deep eyes to eyes of blue, changed was the glorv of her
pride to the sweetness of the Helen's smile. Fairest
among women had been her form, now it wtus fairer yet,
and now — now she was Beauty's self, and like to swoon
at the dienui of her own loveliness.

' SSo, ah, so must the Hathor seem,' she said, and lo !
her voice rang strangely in her ears. F«jr the voice,
too, was changed, it was more soft than the whispering
of wind-stirred reeds ; it was more sweet than the
murmuring of bees at noon. '

Now she must go forth, and fearful at her own loveli-
ness, and heavy with her sin, yet glad with a strange
joy, she passes from her chamber and glides like a star-
beam through the still halls of her Palace. The white
light of the moon creeps into them and falls upon the
faces of the dreadful Gods, on the awful smile of
sphinxes, and the pictures of her forefathers, kings and
queens who long were dead. And as she goes she
seems to hear them whisper each to each of the dread-
ful sin that she has vsinned, and of the sorrow that shall
be. But she does not heed, and never stays her foot.
For her heart is alight as with a flame, and she will
win the Wanderer to her arms — the Wanderer sought
through many lives, found after many deaths.

g for

Now the Wanderer is in his chamber, waitin
the hour to set forth to find the Golden Helen. His
heart is alight, and strange dreams of the past go before

THE OATH or THE WANDERER. ^05

his eyes, and stniivje visions of long lovo to be. His
heart buins like a lamp in the blackness, anil by that
light he sees all the days of his life that have been,
and all the wars that he has won, and all the seas that
he has sailed. And now he known that these things
are dreams indeed, illusions of the sense, for there
is but one thing true in the life of men, and that is
Love ; there is but one thing perfect, the beauty which
is Love's robe ; there is but one thing which all men
seek and are born to find at last, the heart of the
Golden Helen, the World's Desire, that is peace and
joy and rest.

He binds his armour on him, for foes mav lurk in
darkness, and takes the Bow of Eurytus, and the gray
bolts of death ; for perchance the fight is i»ot yet done,
and he must cleave his way to joy. Then he combs his
locks and sets the golden helm upon them, and, praying
to the Gods who hear not, he passes from his chamber.

Now the chamber opened into a great hall of pillars.
As was his custom when he went alone by niglit, the
Wanderer glanced warily down the dusky hall, but
he might see little because of the shadows. Neverthe-
less, the moonlight poured into the centre of the hall
from the clerestories in the roof, and lay tliere shining
white as water beneath black banks of reeds. Again
the Wanderer glanced with keen, i^uick eyes, for there
was a sense in his heart that he was no more alone in
the hull, though whether it were man or ghost, or, per-
chance, one of the immortal Gods who looked on him,
he might not tell. Now it seenunl to him that lu saw
a shape of white moving far away in the shadow.

ao6

IIIE n'OHlJys DESJKIi.

Then he gra.s])«'d the black bow an<l laid hand upon hia
quiver so that, the shafts rattled.

Now it would soom that the sliajHJ in the shadow
hoard the rattlinj; of the nhal'tj-', or piTchaiuc saw the
momdiglit 'j^leiini u|»<>n the Waiiden'r's golden hariiess
— at the Icjist, it drew near till it came to tin; edge nt
the i;)Oul of liL,dit, 'I'licre it paused as a hatlicr pan si -s
ere she steps into the luuutaiti. The Wanderer p.iu>t'd
also, wondering what the sha])e loi^ht be Half w,;> he
minded tn try it with an arrow fn»in tin- bow, hut Im!
held his hand and watched.

And as he watched, the white sliape glidcMl into the
space of nitiMiil.'glit, and he saw that it was thi^ form ol
a woman diapud in white, and tiiat about, lior sli^mc a
gleaming girdle, and in the girdle gv.nis which sjiarUlcd
like the eyes of a snake. Tall was the shai)e and ioNcly
as a statue of Aphrodite; but wlio or what it was h-'
might not tell, tor tlie head was bent and the lui;
hidden.

Awhile tho shape stood thus, and as it stood, the
Wanderer passed towards it, marvelling much, till \w
also stood in the j)ool of moordight that shimnii'rc'd 'm\
his golden mail. Then suddenly the sliape lifted its
lace so that he light fell full on it, and stn-tched ont its
arms towanis him, and lo ! I he 'ace was the face of
Arrive Helen — of her whom he went forth to seek. He
looked upon its beauty, he h)()lved upon the eyes of blue,
upon the golden hair, u[)<>n the shining arms; then
slowly, very slowly, and in silence — for he could find no
words — tilt' Wanderer drew near.

She did not move nor sjM-ak. So still she stood that

THE OATH OF THE WANDEKEH.

207

RiarC'* Hhe at'i'inrd to brc-ithe Only the Hliiniri;.; rypg of
hrr Hnake-girdle </litt('i>'<l liku living tl(in«.;s. A^^•^in he
Ktoppod fearfully, for he heiil that this wna miircly a
inookinu irhoat wliioh stood before hinj, but still she
Deither inoveiJ nor spoke.

Then at lenjjfth he found his tonj^ne and spoke :

' Larly,' he whispered, ' is it indeed tlion, Is it AiLcive
Helen whom f look upo»), or is it, percliiiuce, a ghost
sent by Queen Pt.irsephone from the House of Hades to
make a mock of me ? *

Now the voice of Helen answered him in sweet tones
and low :

' Did I not tell thee, Odysseus of Tthaca, did I not tell
thee, yestenlay in the halls of Hathor, after thoii hadst
overcome the ghosts, that to-ni<j[ht wc shoidd he wed ?
Wherefore, then, dost thou deem me oi the number of
the bodiless ? '

The Wanderer hearkened. The voice was the voice
of Hcler, the eyes were the eyes of Helen, and yet his
heart feared guile.

• So did Argive Helen tell me of a truth. Lady, but
this she said, that T should find her by the pylon of the
temple, and lend her thence to be my bride. Thither 1
go but now to set k her. Rut if thou art Helen, how
comest theu to these Palace halls ? And where, Lady,
is that Red Star which should gleam upon thy breast,
thnt Stnr winch weeps out the blowd y,i men ?'

'No more doth the red dew fall from th(j Star that
was set upon my bn ast, Ody. sens, f*tr now that thou
hast won me men die no more for my h( auty's sake.
Gone is the Star of W^ar; and see, Wisdjii. rings me

2o8

THE WORLD'S DESIRE.

! H

round, the symbol of the Deathless Sn; ke that signifies
love eternal. Thou dost a.sk how I came hither, I, who
am immortal and a dan<diter of the Gods ? Seek not
to know, Odysseus, for where Fate puts it in my mind
to be, there do the Gods bear me. Wouldst thou, then,
that I leave thee, Odysseus ? '

' Last of all things do I desire this,' he answered, for
now iiis wisdom went a- wandering ; now he forgot the
words of Aphrodite, warning him that the Helen might
be known by one thing only, the Red Star on her breast,
whence falls the blood of men ; and he no more doubted
but that she was the Golden Helen.

Then she who wore the Helen's shape stretched out
her arms and smiled so sweetly that the Wanderer
knew nothing any more, save that she drew him to her.

Slowly she glided before him, ever smiling, and where
she went he followed, as men follow beauty in a dream.
She led him through halls and corridors, past the
sculptured statues of the Gods, past man-headed
sphinxes, and pictures of long dead kings.

And as she goes, once more it seems to her that she
heaiS them whisper each to each of the horror of her sin
and the ,'j row that shall be. But naught she heeds
who ever leads him on, and naught he hears who ever
follows after, till at length, though he knows it not,
they stand in the bed-chamber of the Queen, and
by Pharaoh's golden bed.

Then once more she speaks :

* Odysseus of Ithaca, whom I have loved from the
beghming, pnd whom 1 shall love till all deaths are
done, before thee stands that Loveliness which the Goda

THE OATH OF THE WANDERER. 209

predestined to thy arms. Now take thou tliy Bride ;

but "rst lay thy hand upon this golden Snake, that ungs

rae round, the new bridal gift of the Gods, and swear

thy marriage oath, which may not be broken. Swear

thus, Odysseus : " I love thee, Woman or Immortal, and

thee alone, and by whatever name thou art called, and

in whatever shape thou goest, to thee I will cleave, and

to thee alone, till the day of the passing of Time. I

will forgive thy sins, I will soothe thy sorrows, I will

suffer none to come betwixt thee and me. This I swear

to thee, Woman or Immortal, who dost stand before me.

I swear it to thee, Womaa, for now and for ever, for

here and hereafter, in whatever shape thou goest on

the earth, by whatever name thou art known among

men.'

•Swear thou thus, Odysseus of Ithaca, Laertes' son,
or leave me and go thy ways ! '

' Great is the oath,' quoth the Wanderer ; for
though now he feared no guile, yet his crafty heart
liked it ill.

' Choose, and choose swiftly,' she answered. * Swear
the oath, or leave me and never see me more ! '

'Leave thee I will not, and cannot if I would,' he
said. ' Lady, I swear ! ' And he laid his hand upon the
Snake that ringed her round, and swore the dreadful'
oath. Yea, he forgot the words of the Goddess, and the
words of Helen, P-jd h" swore by the Snake who should
have sworn by the Star. By the immorti Gods he
swore it, by the Syndiol of the Snake, and by the
Beauty of his Bride. And as he swore the (.yes of the
Serpent sparkled, and the eyes of her who wore the

2 TO

THE WORLD'S DESIRE.

beauty of Helen shone, and faintly the black bow of
Eurytu.s thrilled, foreboding Death and War.

But little the Wanderer thought on guile or War
or Death, for the kiss of her wh.)in he deemed the
Golden Helen was on his lips, and he went up into
the golden bed of Meriamun.

CHAPTER XI.

THE WAKING OF THE WANDERER.

Now" Rei the Priest, as fiad been appointed, went to
ilu pylon gate of the Temple of Hathor. Awhile he
stood looking for the Wanderer, but tliough tlie hour
liad come, the Wanderer came not. Then the Priest
went to tlie p}don and stood in the shadow of the gate.
As he stood there a wicket in the gate 0])ened, and
there passed out a veiled figure of a wonuui u[)on whose
breast burned a red jewel that shone in the night like
a f-tar. The woman waited awiiile, h)oking down the
moonlit road between the black rows of sphinxes, but
tlie road lay white and empty, and she turned and hid
herself ill the sha(h>w of the p}don, where Rei could see
nothing of her except the red star that gleamed upon
liri breast.

Now a groat fear came upon the ohl man, for he knew
that he looked upon tlie stn.nge and deadly llathor.
Perchance he too would perish like the rest who had
looked on her to their ruin, lie thoir^ht of flight, but
he did not dare to fly. Then he too stared down tlie
road seeking for the Wander- r, but no shadow crossed
the moonlight. Thus things went for awhile, and atill

212

THE WORLHS DESIRE.

the Hatlior stood sileutly in the shadow, aud still the
blood-red star shone upon her breast. And so it came
to pass that the World's Desire must v/ait at the tryst
like some forsaken village maid.

While Rei the Priest crouched thus against the pylon
wall, praying for the coming of him who came not, sud-
denly a voice spoke to him in tones sweeter than a lute.

* Who art thou that hidest in the shadow ? ' said the
voice.

He knew that it was the Hath or who spoke, and so
afraid was he that he could not answer.

Then the voice spoke again :

' Oh, thou most crafty of men, why doth it please thee
to come hitlier to seek me in the guise of an aged
priest. Once, Odysseus, I saw thee in a beggar's weeds,
and knew tliee in the midst of thy foes. Shall I not
know tliee again in peace beneath thy folded garb and
thv robes of white ? '

Rei heard and knew that he could hide himself no
longer. Therefore he came forward trembling, and
and knelt bel'ore lier, saying :

' Oh, mighty Queen, I am not tliat man whom thou
didst name, nor am 1 hid in any wrappings of disguise.
Nay, I do avow myself to be named Rei the Chief
Architect of Pharaoh, the Commander of the Legion of
Amen, the chief of the Treasury of Amen, and a man
of repute in this land of Khem, Now, if indeed thou
art the Goddess of this temple, as 1 judge by that
red jewel which burns upon thy breast, I pray thee be
luerciiul to thy servant and suiite me not with thy
wrnth, for not by iny own will am I here, but by the

THE WAKING OF THE WANDERER. 213

coiiinriand of that hero whom thou hast named, and for
whose coming I await. Be merciful tlierefore, and hold
thy hand.'

'Fear not thou, Rei,' said the sweet voice. 'Little
am I minded to harm thee, or any man, for though
many men have gone down the path of darkness hecause
of me, who am a doom to men, not hy my will has it
been, but by the will of the immortal Gods, who use
me to tlieir ends. Rise thou, Rei, and tell me why
thou art come hither, and where is he whom I have
named ? '

Then Rei rose, and looking up saw the light of the
Helen's eyes shining (mi him through her veil. But
there was no anger in them, ':hey shone mildly as stars
in an evening sky, and his hea' t was comforted.

* I know not where the Wanderer is, O thou
Immortal,' he said. ' This 1 know only, that he bade
me meet him liere at one hour before midnight, and so
I came.'

' Perchance he too will come anon/ said the sweet
voice; 'but why did he, whom thou namest the Wan-
derer, bid thee meet liiin here ? '

' For this reason, Hathor. He told me that this
night he should be wed to thee, and was minded there-
after to fly from Khcm with thee. Therefore he bade
me come, who am a friend to him, to talk with th'.e
and him as to how thy llight should go, and yet he
comes not.'

Now as Rei spake, he turned his face upward, and
the Golden Helen looked upon it.

'Hearken, Rei,' she said: 'hut yesterday, alter I had

214

THE irORfjyS DESIRE.

stood upon t.lio pylon tower ;>.s tlio Gods decn ed, and
sang to those who were lijic to di(;, I went to my shiiuo
and wove my web while \\\v doomed men fell beneath
the swords of them who vv<'i\' set to <^u;ird my beauty,
but who now are gone. Aid as I wove, one passed the
Ghosts and rent th(^ web and stood before me. It was
he whom I await to-niglit, and iifter awhile I knew him
for Odysseus of Ithaca, Odysseus, Laertes' son. But as
I looked on bim and spake with him, Dehold, I saw
a spirit watching us, though he migiit lot see it, a
spirit wliose face I knew not, for no such man have I
known in my life days. Know tlien, Rei, that the face
of the spirit was thy face, und its i(d)cs thy robes.'

Then once more Rei trembled in his fear.

* Now, Rei, I bid thee tcdl me, and speak the truth,
lest evil come on thee, not at my hands indeed, for I
would harm none, but at the hands of those Immortals
who are akin to me. What did thy spirit yonder, in my
sacred shrine ? How didst tlioii dare to enter and
look upon my beauty and hearktm to my words ? '

'Oh, great Queen,' said Rei, 'I will tell thee the
truth, and I pray thee let not the wrath of the Goils

own will c

my spn

into thy Holy Place, nor do I know aught of what it
saw therein, seeing that no memory of it remains in
me. Nay, it was sent of her whom I serve, who is the
mistress of all magic, and to her it made report, but
wliat it said I know not.'

' And whom dost thou serve, Rei ? And why did she
send thy spirit forth to spy on me V

' I serve Meriamun the Queen, and she sent my spirit

THE WAKING Of THE WANDERER. 215

fortli to learn what befell the Wainlerer when he went
lip against the Ghosts.'

' And yet he said naught to nie of this Merianiun.
Say, Rei, is she fair ? '

' Of all women who live upon the earth she is the
very fairest.'

* Of all, sayest thou, Rei ? Look now, and say if
Meriamun, whom thou dost serve, is fairer than Argive
Helen, whom thou dost name the Hathor?' and she
lifted her veil so that he saw the face that was
beneath.

Now when he heard that name, and looked upon the
glory of her who is Beauty's self, Rei shrank back till
he went nigh to falling on the earth.

' Nay,' he said, covering hiy eyes with his hand; 'nay,
thou art fairer than she.'

'Then tell me,' she said, letting fall her veil again,
'and for thine own sake tell me true, why would
Meriamun the Queen, whom thou servest, know the
fate of him who came up against the Gliosts ? '

' Wouldst thou know, Daughter of Amen ?' answered
Rei; 'then I will tell thee, for through thee alone she
whom I serve and love can be saved from shame.
Meriamun doth also love the man whom thou wouldst
wed.*

Now when the Golden Helen heard these words, shv.
pressed her hand against her bosom.

'So I feared,' she said, 'even so. She loves him, and
he comes not. Ah ! if it be so ! Now, Rei, T am
tempted to pay this Qu> (Mi of thine in her own craft,
and send thy s[)irit forth to spy on her. Nay, that I

2l6

THE WORLDS DESIRE.

will not do, for never shall Helon work by shnineful
guile or niagie. Nay — but we will hence, Roi, we will
to the Palace wlioie iny rival dwells, there to learn the
truth. Fear not, I will bring no ill on thee, nor on her
whom thou serveat. Lead me to the Palace, Rei.
Lead me swiftly/

Now the Wanderer slept in the arms of Meriamun,
who wore the shape of Argive Helen. His golden
harness was piled by the golden bed, and by the bed
stood the black bow of Eurytus. The night drew on
towards tbe dawning, when of a sudden the Bow awoke
and sung, and thus it sang :

'Wake ! wake ! thou<^h the arras of thy Love are about thee, yet
dearer l)y far
Than her kiss is the sound of the fight ;
And more awcot than her voice is the cry of the trumpet, and
goodlier far
Tlian her arms is the battle's delight :
And what eyes are so bright as the sheen of the bronze when the
sword is aloft,
What breast is so fair as the shield 1
Or what garland of roses is dear as iho helm, and what sleep is so
soft
As the sleep of slain men on the field J'

Lo ! the Snake that was twined about the form of
her who wore the shape of Helen heard the magic song.
It awoke, it arose. It twined itself about the body of
the Wanderer and the body of her who wore the shape
of Helen, knitting them together in the bond of sin.
It grew, and lifting its woman's head on high, it sang in
answer. And thus it san,r of doom ;

THE WAKING OF THE WANDERER. 217

' Hlf»p ! be ut rest for tin hour ; as in death men believe th y shall
rest,
Jiiit they wake ! And thou too shall awake !
In llie ihuk of the grave do they stir ; but about them, on arms
and on breast,
Are the toils and the coils of the Snake :
By the tree where the first lovers lay, did I watch as I watch
where he lies,
Love laid on the bosom of Lust ! '

Then the great Bow answered the Snake, and it
sang :

' Of the tree where the first lovers sinned was I shapen ; I bid
tht-e arise,
Thou Slayer that soon shalt be dust.'

And the Snake sang reply: —

'Be thou silent, my Daughter of Death, be thou silent nor wake
him from sleep.
With the song and the sound of thy breath.'

The Bow heard the song of the Snake. The Death
beard the song of the Sin, and again its thin music;
thrilled upon the air. For thus it sang :

Be thou silent, my Mother of Sin, for this watch it is given me
to keep
O'er the sleep of he dealer of Death ! '

Then tlie Snake sang :

'Hush, hunli^ tiiou art young, and thou cumest to birth when
vtie making was done
Of the world : I am older therein ! '

And the Bow answered :

' But without me thy strength were as weakness^, the prize of thy
strength were unwon.
I am Death, and thy Daughter, O Sin ! '

2l8

THE WORLD'S DESIRE.

Now the song of the Siwike and the song of the Bow
sunk through the depths of sleep till they reached the
Wanderer's ears. He sighed, he stretched out his
niighty arms, he opened his eyes, and lol they looked
upon the eyes th;it bent above him, eyes of flame that
lit the face of a -Noman — the fac:» of Merianiun tiiat
wavered on a serpent's neck and suddenly was gone;.
He cried aloutl with fear, and 8[)ri)ng from the couch.
The faint light of the dawning crept through the ca.se-
nients and fell upon the bed. The faint light of i,lie
dawtdng fell upon the golden bed of Pharaoh's Queen,
it gleamed npon the golden armour that was piled by
the b<^d, and on the polished surface of the great black
bow. It shone upon the face of her who lay in the bed.

Then he remembered. Surely he had slept with the
Golden Helen, who was his bride and surely he had
dreamed an evil dream, a dream of a snake that wore
the face of Pharaoh's Queen. Yea, there lay the Golden
Helen, won at last— the Golden Helen now made a wile
to him. Now he mocked his own fears, and now he
bent to wake her with a kiss. Faintly the new-born
light crept and gathered on lier face; ah ! how beautiful
siie was in sleep. Nay, what was this ? Whose face
waj; this beneath his own ? Not so had Helen looked
in the shrine of her temple, when he tore the web.
Not s«> had Helen seemed yonder in the pillared hall
when she stood in the moordit space — not so had she
seemed when he sware the great oath to love her, and
her alone. Whose beauty was it then that now he saw ?
By the Immortal Gods, it was the beauty of Meriamun;
it was the glory of Pharaoh's Queen!

THE WAKING OF Tf/E IVANPERKR. 219

He stared upon her lovely sleoping tac( , wliilo terror
shook his soul. How could this be ? What thou had
he done ?

Then lio^ht broke upon him. He looked around the
chamber — there on the walls were graven the images t)i
the Gods of Kheni, there above the bed the names of
Meneptah and Meriamun were written side by si(l(! in
the sacred siiins of Khem, Not with the Golden Helen
had he slept, but with the wife of Pharaoh ! To her he
had sworn the oath, and she had worn the Helen's shape
—and now the spell was broken.

He stood amflzed, and as he stood, again the great
bow thrilled, warning him of Death to come. Then his
strength came back to him, and he seized his armour
and girt it about him piece by piece till he lifted the
golden helm. It slipj»ed from his hand ; with a ci^.ih it
fell upon the marble door. Witli a cra.sh it fell, and
she '.vno slept in the bed awoke with a cry, and sprang
from the bed, her dark hair streaming down, her night-
gear held to her by the golden snake with genimy eyes
that she must ever wear. But he caught his sword in
his hand, and threw down the ivory sheath.

BOOK III.

CHAPTER I.

THE VENfSFANCE OF KURRI.

The Warulerer aiui Pharaoh's Queen stood face to face
in the twilight of the chiunbor. They stood in silence,
while bitter anger and burning shame poured into his
heart and shone from his eyes. But the face of
Meriaijiun was coM .ts \W- face of the d^ad, and on it
was a smile such as the carven sphinxes wear. Only
her breast heaved tunjultuously as tliough in triumph,
and her limbs qnivered like a shaken reed. At length
she spoke.

' Why lookest thou so strangely on me, my Lord and
Love ; and why hast thou girded thy harness on thy
back ? Scarcely doth glorious Ra creep from the
breast of Nout, and wouklst thou leave thy bridal bed,
Odysseus ? '

Still he spoke no word, but looked on her with burn-
ing eyes. Then she stretched out her arms and came
towards him lover-like. And now he found his tongue
again.

'Get thee from me!' he suid, in a voice low and

THE VENGEANCE Oh KURRl

221

terriule to hoar; 'pit thee tVoni me. Dare not to touoli
mo, tiiou, wlio art a Iwirlot and a witch, K'st I turgct my
manliood and strike thee deatl hcfore me,.'

'That thou canst not do, Odysseus,' she answeied
soft, ' for whatever el.se I be I at.i thy wife, and thou art
bound t<'.' me for ever. What was tlie oath which thou
didst swear not five short hour^ ago ? '

' I swore an oath indeed, but not to thee, Meriamun.
I swore an oath to Ar*^ive Htjlen, whom I love, and I
wake to find thee sleepirjg at my aide, thee whom I
hate.'

' Nay,' she said, ' to me thou didst .swear the oath,
Odysseus, for thou, of men the most guileful, hast at
length been overmastered in guile. To me, " Woman or
Immortal," thou didst swear "for now ami for ever, for
here and hereafter, in. wJuitever shape thmt guest on the
earth, hy whatever name thmt art hnoivn among men." Oh,
be not wroth, my lord, but hearken. What matters the
shape in wliich thou seest me ? At the least am I not
fair ? And what is beauty but a ca.sket that hides the
gem within ? 'Tis my love which thou hast won, my
love that is immortal, ami not the flesh that perishes.
For I have loved thee, ay, and thou hast loved me from
of old and in other lives than this, and I tell thee that
we shall love again and yet again when thou art no more
Od}s.seus of Ithaca, and when I am no more Mtjriainun,
a Queen of Khem, but while we walk in other forms
upon the world and are named by other names. I am
thy doom, thou Wanderer, and wherever thou dost
wander throuiih the fields of Life and Death I s'lail be

at thy side. For I am She of vvl

Kim

lou ar

224

THE WORLDS DESIRE.

bay. But he leapt backwards to the side of the bed
and even as he leapt he set the arrow in his hand upon
the string of the great black bow. Then he drew it to
his ear. Tae bow-string sang, the arrow rushed forth,
and he who stood before it got his death. Again tin.'
bow-string sang, again the arrow rushed, and lo ! another
matt was sped. A third time he drew the bow and the
soul of a third went down the ways of hell. Now they
rolled back irotn him as the waters roll from a rock, for
none dared face the shafts of death. They shot at him
with spears and arrows from behind the shelter of the
pillars, but none of these might harm him, for some
fell fr^Mii his mail and some he caught upon his
buckler.

Now .'imong those who had run thither at the sound
of the crie'^ of ^loriamuu was that same Kurri, the
rniserab^^ captain of the Sidonians, whose life the
Wanderr) had spared, and whom he had given to the
Queen to ne her jeweller. And when Kurri saw the
Wanderer's flight, he thought in his greedy heart of
those treasure that he had lost, c*,nd of how he who had
been a capt.'vm and a rich merchant of Sidon was now
nothing but a slave.

Then a great desire came upon him to work the
Wanderer ill, if so he might. Now all round the edge
of the chamber were shadows, for the light was yet
faint, and Kurri crept j'lto the shadows, carrying a long
spear in his hand, and that spear was hafted into the
bronze puint which had stood in the Wanderer's helm.
Little did the Wanderer glance his way. for he watched
the lances and arrow^c that flew towards him from the

THE VENGEANCE OF KUKRI.

22S

j)ortal, so tho end of it was that the Sidoiiian pnsse'
round the chamber uDseen and climbed into the golden
bed of Pharaoh on the further side of the bed. Now the
Wanderer stood with his back to the bed and a spear's
len^;th from it, and in the silken hangings were fixed
spe irs and arrows. Kurri's first thought was to stab
him in the back, but this he did not ; first, because he
feared lest he should fail to pierce the golden harness
and the Wauderer should turn and slay him ; and again
because he hoped that the Wauderer would be put to
death by torment, and he was fain to have a hand in it,
for after the fashion of the Sidonians he was skilled iu
the tormenting of men. Therefore he waited tiil pre-
sently the Wanderer let fall his buckler and drew the
bow. But ere the arrow reached his ear Kurri had
stretched out his spear from between the hangings and
touched the string with the keen bronze, so that it burst
asunder and the gray shaft ftll upon the marble floor.
Then, as the Wanderer cast down the bow and t rnied
with a cry to spring on him who had cut tlie cord, for
liis eye had caught the sheen of the outstretched spear,
Kurri Ufted the covering of purple web which lay upon
the bed and deftly cast it over the hero's head so that
he was immeshed. Thereon the soldiers and the eunuchs
took heart, seeing what had been done, and ere evur the
Wanderer could clear himself from the covering a..d
draw hiR sword, they rushed upon liim. CurnbertHl as
he was, they might not easily overcome him, but in the
end they bore him down and held l)im fast, so that he
could not stir so much as a linger. Then one cried
aloud to Meriamun;

I, J imirr »ni * ai**Wf»i'*' . •■'

236

T/f£ WORLD'S DESIRE.

* The Lion is trapptxl, D Queen ! Say, shall we slay
him?'

But Meriaiimn, who had watched the irav throucrh
cover of her hauds, shuddered and made answer:

' Ni\y, but lock his tonj^ie with a gag, strip his
armour from liim, and bind him with fetters of bronze,
and make him fast to the dungeon walls with great
chains of bronze. There shall he bide till Pharaoh
come again: for aixainst E^haraoh's honour he hath
sinm d and shamefully broken that oath he swore to
him, and therefore shall Pharaoh make him die iu
such fashion as seems good to him/

Now wlien Kurri heard these words, and saw the
Wanderer's sorry ])light, he bent over him and said :

'Tt was I, Kurri the Sidonian, who cut tlie cord of
thy great bow, Eperitus; with the spc^ar-point that
thou gavast back to nie I cut it, T, whose folk thou
didst slay and niadest me a slave. And I will crave this
boon of Pharaoh, that mine shall be the baud to
tormeut thee ni^ht and day till at last thou diest,
cursing the da}; that thou wast born.'

The Wanderer looked upon him and answered :
'There thou liesl thou Sidonian dog, for this is written
in thy face, that ^hou thyself shalt die within an hour
and tlia.t strangely.'

Then Kurri shrank back scowling. But no more
Wf^rds might Odysseus speak, for at once they forced his
jaws apart and gagged him with a gag of iron ; and
thereaftiir stripping his harness from him they bound
him with fetters as the Queen li.id commanded.

Now w'lile they dealt thus with the Wanderer,

THE VENGEANCE OF KURRI.

227

Meriaman passed into another chamber and swift'y
threw robes upon her to hide her disarray, clasping
them round her with the golden girdle whicli now she
must always wear. But her long hair she left unbound,
nor did she \v;ish the stain of tears from her face, for
she was minded to seem shamed and woe-be<;one in the
eyes of all men till Pharaoh came again.

Kei and the Gulden Helen passed through the streets
of the city till they came to the Palace gates. And here
they must wait till the dawn, for Rei, thinking to come
thither with the Wanderer, who was Captain of the
Guard, had not learned the word of entry.

' Easy would it be for me to win my way through
those great gates,' said the Helen to Rei at her side,
'but it is my counsel that we wait awhile. Perchance
he whom we seek will conui forth.'

So they entered the poicli of the Tempi' of Osiris that
looked towards tlie gates, and ther(3 they waited tilj the
dawn gathered in the eastern sky. The Helen spoke
no word, but Rei, watching her, knew that sh.e was
troubled at heart, thouyh he miijht not see her face
because of the veil ihe wore ; for from time to time she
sighed and the Red iStar rose and fell upon her breast.

At length the first arrow of the dawn fell up(jn the
temple porch and she spoke.

' Now let us enter,' she said ; * my heart forbodes evil
indeed ; but much of evil I have known, and where the
Gods drive me there I must go.'

T'lCy come to the gp.tes. and the man who watclied
them opened to the priest Rei and the veiled woman

228

THE WORLDS DESIRE.

who went with him, though he marvelled at the beauty
of the woman's shape.

' Wheore are thy fellow-guards ? ' Rei asked of the
soldier.

' I know not,* he answered, 'but anon a great tumult
arose in the Palace, and the Captain of the Gate went
thither, leaving me only to guard the gate.'

'Hast thou seen the Lord Eperitus?' Rei asked

agam.

' Nay, I have not seen him since sup] )er- time last
night, nor has he visited the guard as is his wont.*

Rei passed on wondering, and with him went Helen.
As they trod the Palace they saw folk flying towards the
hall of banquets that is near the Queen's chambers.
Some bore arms in their hands and some bore none, but
all fled fast towards the hall of banquets, Avhence came
a sound of shouting. Now they drew near the hall, and
there at the further end, where the doors are that lead
to the Qu jen's chambers, a great crowd was gathered.

*Hiu<5 thee, lady — hide thee,' said Rei to her who
went with him, ' for metliinks that death is afoot here.
See, here hangs a curtain, stand thou behind it while I
learn what this tumult means.'

She stepped behind the curtain that hung between
the pillars as Rei bade her, for now Helen's gentle
breast was full of fears, and she was as one dazed. Even
as she stepped one came flying down the hall who was
of the servants of Rei the Priest.

' Stay thou,' Rei cried to him, ' and tell me what
happens yonder.'

'Ill deeds, Lord,' said the servant. 'Eperitus the

THE VENGEANCE OE KURRI.

229

Wanderer, whom Pharaoh made Captain of his Guard
when he went forth to slay the rebel Apura — Eperitus
hath laid hands on the Queen whom he was set to
guard. But she fled from him, and her cries awoke the
guard, and they fell upon him in Pharaoh's very chamber.
Some he slew with shafts froiD the great black bow,
but Kurri the Sidonian cut the strhig of the bow, and
the Wanderer was borne down by many men. Now
they have bound him and drag him to the dungeons,
there to await judgment from the lips of Pharaoh. See,
tliey bring him. I must begone on my errand to the
keeper of the dungeons.'

The Golden Helen heard the shameful tale, and such
sorrow took her that had she been mortal she had
surely died. This then was the man wliom she had
chosen to love, this was he whom last night she should
have wed. Once more the Gods had made a mock of
her. So had it ever been, so should it ever be. Love-
less she had lived all her life days, now she had learned
to love once and for ever — and this was tlie fruit of it !
She clasped the curtain lest she shouhl sink to the
earth, and liearing a sound looked forth. A multitude
of men came down the hall. Before them walked ten
soldiers bearing a litter on their shoulders. In the
litter lay a man gagged and fettered with fetters of
bronze so that he might n ><; stir, and they bore him as
men bear a stag from the chase or a wild bull to the
sacrifice. It was the Wanderer's self, the Wanderer
overcome at last, and he seemed so mighty even in his
bonds, and I: is eyes shone with so tierce a light, that the
crowd shrank from him as tlioauh in fear. Thus did

230

2'HE WORLDS DE:iiJRE.

llelen see her Love and Lord ficrain as thev bore him
dishonoured to liis dungeon <3ell. She saw, and a moan
and a cry burst from her heart. A moan for her ou n
woe and a cry for the shame and faithlessness of him
whom she must love,

' Oh, how fallen art thou, Odysseus, who wast of men
the very first,' she cried.

He heard it and knew the voice of her who ciiod,
and he gazed around. The great veins swelled ujuni
his neck and forehead, and he struggled so fiercely that
he fell from the litter to the ground. But he mij^ht
not rise because of the fetters, nor speak because of the
gag, so they lifted him again and bore him tlience.

And after him went all the multitude save Rei alorK\
For Rei was fallen in shame and grief because of the
tale that he had heard and of the deed of darkness that
the man he loved had done. For not yet did he re-
member and learn to doubt. So he stood hiding his
eyes in his hand, and as he stood Helen came forth and
touched him on the shoulder, saying :

* Lead me hence, old man. Lead me back to myl
temple. My Love is lost indeed, but there where 1'
found it I will abide till the Gods make their will clear
to me.'

He bowed, saying no word, and following Helen
stepped into the centre of the hall. There he stopped,
indeed, for down it came the Queen, her hair stream-
ing, all her robes disordered, and her face .stained with
tears. She was alone S£ e for Kurri the Sidonian, who
followed her, and she walked wildly as one distraught who
knows not where she ^oes nor wh ;. Helen saw her also.

THE VENGEANCE OF KURRI.

231

' Who is this royal lady that draws near ? ' she asked
of Rei.

* It is Meriarnun the Queen ; she whom the Wanderer
hath brought to shame.'

'Stay then, I would speak with her.'

• Nay, nay,' cried Rei. ' She loves thee not, Lafly,
and will slay thee.'

'That cannot be/ Helen answered.

CHAPTER II.

THE COMING OF PHARAOH.

Presently, as she walked, Meriamun saw Rei the
Priest and the veiled woman at his side, and she saw
on the woman's breast a red jewel that burnt and
glowed like a heart of tire. Then like tire burned the
heart of Meriamun, for she knew that this was Argive
Helen who stood before her, Helen whose shape she
had stolen like a thief and with the m nd of a thief.

* Say,' she cried to Rei, who bowed before her, ' say,
who is this woman V

Rei looked at the Queen with terrified eyes, and
spake in a voice of warning.

'This is that Goddess who dwells in the Temple of
Hathor,' he said. ' Let her pass in peace, O Queen.'

'In peace she shall pass indeed,' answered Meriamun.
' What saidest thou, old dotard ? That Goddess !
Nay, no Goddess have we here, but an evil-working
witch, who hath brought woes unnumbered upon
Khem. Because of her, men die mouth by month till
the vaults of the Temple of Hathor are full of her slain.
Because of her it was that curse upon curse fell on the
land — the curse of water turned to blood, of i. lil and

THE COMING OF PHARAOH.

233

ot terrible darkness, av, and the curse of the deatli of
tlie firstborn among uhoin my own son died. And
thou hast dar<'d, Rei, to bring this witch here to my
Palace halls! By Amen if I had not loved tliee always
thy life should pay the price. And thou,' and she
stretched her hand towards the Helen, ' thou hast
dared to come. It is well, no more slialt thou bring
evil upon Khem. Hearken, slave/ and she turned to
Kuni the Sidonian; 'draw that knife of thine and
plunge it to the hilt in the breast of yonder woman.
So shalt thou win freedom and all thy goods shall be
given thee again.*

Then for the first time Helen npake :

'I charge thee, Lady,' she said in slow soft tones,
'bid not thy servant do this deed, for though I have
little will to bring evil upon men, yet I may not lightly
be affronted.*

Now Kurri hung back doubtfully fingering his
dagger.

' Draw, knave, draw ! ' cried Meriamun, * and do my
bidding, or presently thou shalt be slain with this same
knife.'

When the Sidonian heard these words he cried aloud
with fear, for he well knew that as the Queen said so
it would be done to him. Instantly he drew the great
knife and rushed upon the veiled woman. But as he
came, Helen lifted her veil so that her eyes fell upon
his eyes, and the brightness of their beauty was revealed
to him; and when he saw her loveliness he stopped
suddenly as one who is transfixed of a spear. Then
madness came upon him, and wif1i -l cry lu- lifted the

7'///; UORL/ys DESIRE.

k'liifc, and pliiMj^in^- it, not iuto her Uemt, but into his
t)\vn, fell. down doad.

Tliis then ^ as the miserable end of Kurri the
Sidoninn, slain by the sight of Beauty.

'Thou seest, Lady,' said Helen, turning from the
dead Hidoniau, ' no man may harm me.'

For a moment the Queen stood astorjished, while Rei
tli(3 Priest muttered prayers to the protecting Gods.
Tlien she cried :

' Begone, thou living curse, begone ! Wherefore art
thou come here to work more woe in this house of woe
and death?'

'Fear not,' answered the Helen, 'presently I will
begone and trouble thee no iiiore. Thou askest why I
am come hither. I came to seek hiui who was my love,
and whom but last night I should have wed, but
whom the Gods have brought to shame unspeft^able,
Odysseus of Ithaca, Odysseus, Laertes' son. For this
cause I came, and I have stayed to look upon the face
of her whoso beauty had power to drive the thought of
me from the heart of (!)dysseus, ant.l biing him, who of
all men was the greatest hero and the foremost left
alive, to do a dastard deed and make his mighty name
a byword and a scorn. Knowest thou, Meriamun, that
I find tin? matter strange, since if all things else be
false, yet is this true, tliat among women the fairest are
the most strong. Thou art fair indeed, Meriamun, but
judge if tliou art more fair than Argive Helen,' and
she drew the veil fjom her face so that the splendour
of hei- beauty shone out upon the Queen's dark loveli-
110.-6. Thus for awhile they stood each facing each,

THE COMING OF PHARAOH.

835

jm<] to Rei it i^eenud as tliough the spirits of Death and
Life looked o»d3 on anotlier, as though the darkm'h.s and
tlie <i{)ylight stood in woman's shape before him.

* Thou art fair iritleed,' said tiie Queon, 'bnt in this,
witch, h;is thy beauty failed to hold him whom thou
wouhlst Wed from the niost shantoless sin. Little me-
thinks can that man iiave loved thee who cropt upon
me like a thief to snatch my honour from ine.'

Then Helen bethought her of \\hat Rei had said,
that Meriamun loved the Wanderer, and she spoke

agam :

'Now it comes into my heart, Egyptian, that true
and false are mixed in this tale of thine. Hard it is to
believe that Odysseus of Ithaca could work vsuch a
coward deed as thi -, or, unbilden, seek to clasp thee to
his heart. Moreover, I read in thine eyes that tliou thy-
self dost love the man wljoui thou namesl dastard.
Nay, hold tiiy peace, look not so wildly on me whom
thou canst not harm, but hearken. Whether thy tale
be true or i'alse I know not, who use no magic and
learn those thirn^s only that the Gods reveal to nie.
But this at the least is true, that Odysseus, whom
I should have wed, luis looked on thee with eyes of
love, even in that hour when I waited to be made
his wife. Therefore the love that bur two da\s agene
bloomed in niy heajt, (Hes and withers; o; if it dies
not, at least 1 ca.st it from me and tread its flowers
beneath my feet. Foi this doom the Gods have laid
upon me, who am of all women rhe most hapless, to live
beloved but loveless t rough many years, and at the
last to love and be betrayed. And now I go hence

236

THE WORLDS DRSfRE.

back to tny toinple shrine ; but fear not, Meriamiui,
uot for long shall I trouble thee or Kluin, and men
siiall »lie no more because of my beaut}', for 1 shall
presently pass nence whither thf G<»(ls appoint ; and
this I say to thee -deal gently with that niau who has
betrayed my faitu, for whatever he did was done for the
love of thee. It is wo mt iui thing to have won the
lioart of Odysseus of Ithaca out of the hand of Argive
Helen. Fare thoe well. Meriamun, who W(Mildst have
slain me. May the (lods giant thee better days and
more of joy than is given to Helen, w]»o would lo'k
upon thy face no more.'

Thus slie spake, and lei ting her veil fall turned to go.
For awhihi the Que* n stood shamed to silence by
hese gentle words, that fell like dew upon the tires of
her hate. But ere Helen had massed the length of a
s]'ear her fury burned up again. What, should she let
this woman go — this woman who alone of all that
breathed was more beautiful than she, by the aid of
whose stolen beauty she alone had won her love, and
for whose .sake she had endiinid such bitter words of
scorn? Nay, while Helen yet lived she could find nor
joy nor sleep. But were Helen dead, then perchance
all might yet be well, and the Wanderer yet be hers,
for when the best is gone men turn them to the
better.

* Close the gates and bar them,' she cried to the men,
who now streamed back into the hall ; and they ran to
do her bidding, S' that before Helen reached the Pal ice
doors, they had licen shut and the gates of bronze
be^yond had clashed like the shields of men.

THE COMING OF PHARAOH. 237

Now Helen (how near the doors.

'Stiiy yon witch,' cried the Queen to those who
guarded them, and in wonder they poised their sj>ears
to bar tlie way of Helen, lint she only lifted her veil
and lookt-'d upon tlieni. Then their anna fell fr<jin
their hands and they stood amazed at, the .sight of
beauty.

'Open, I beseech you,' said the Helen gently, and
straij^htway they opened the doors and she passed
througli, followed by those who guarded them, by tiie
Queen, and by Rei. But one man there was who did
not see her beauty, and he strove in vain to hold back
the doors and to clasp Helen as siie passed.

Now she drew near to the gates —

'Shoot the witch!' cried Mcriainiu the Quoon; 'if
she pass the gates, by my royal word 1 swear that
ye shall die every man of you. Shoot her with
arrows.'

Then three men drew their bows mightily. The
string of the bow of one burst, and the bow was
shattered, anrl the arrow of tlie second slipped as he
drew it, and passing downwards pierced his foot; and
the sliaft of the third swerved ere it struck the breast
of Helen, and sunk into tiie heart of that soldier wh(»
was next to the Queen, so that he fell down de.d. It
was the same man who liad striven to hold to the doors
and clasp the Helen,

Then Helen turned and spoke :

' Bid not thy guard to shoot again, Meriamun, lest
the arrow find thy heart, for, know this, m* maii may
harm me;' and once more she lifted her veil, and

238

THE WORLDS DESIRE.

speakinw to tbosv"^ at the gates said: ' Open, I beseech
you, and let the Ilatlior pass.'

Now their weapons fell from their Viands, and they
looked upon lier hoauty, and tliey .jo made haste to
open the gaies. Tiie great gates clanged upon their
.sockets and rolled back. She passed through them, and
all who weie there followed after her. But when they
looked, lo ! slie luid mingled with the people who went,
to and fro and. was gone.

Then Meriamun ijrcw wliite with rajje because Helen
wlioro she hated had esc-apeil her, an<i turning to tliose
men who had opened the doors and those who Viad
given passage of the gates, who yet stood looking
on each other witli dazed eyes, she doomed them
to die.

But Rei, kneeling before her, prayed for their lives:
' 111 will ccnie of it, Queen ' ' he said, *as ill cam
to yonder Sidonian and to the soldier at thv feet, for
none may work evil on tliis Goddess, or tiiose wlio
befriended the Goddess. Shiy tiiem not, O Queen, los*^
ill tidings follow on the deed !'

Then the Queen turneil on him madly :
'Hearken thou, Roil' she said; 'speak thus again,
,'Mid though I have loved thee and thou hast been the
C'lief of the servants of Pharaoh, thi.s I swear, that thou
shalt die the firs -. Already tlie count is long betw.'en
thee and me, for it was thou who didst bring yon
accursed witch to my Palace. Now thou hast heard,
and of this be sure, as I have spoken so 1 will do. Get
•l.hee gone — get thee from my sight, T say, lest I slay thee
now. 1 take ba<'k thy honours, I strip thee of thy

THE COMING OF PHARAOH.

239

offices, I gather thy wealth into my treasur). Go lorth
a beggar, and let me see thy face no moie ! '

Then Rei hold liis peace and fled, for it wtM'e b(^t,ter to
stand before a liouess robbed of her vvlielps than before
lileriarriun in her rage. Thereon the gates were shut
again, and the captain of the gates was dragged before
the place where the Queen stood, and asking no mercy
and taking little heed, for still his soul was 'lUed with
the beauty of Helen as a cup with wine, he suffered
death, for his head was straiglitway smitten from him.

Rei, watching from afar, groaned aloud, then turned
and left the Palace, but the Queen called to the soldiers
to slay on. Even as she called there came a ciy of woe
without the Palace gates. Men looked each on each.
Again the cry rose and a voice without called, ' Pharaoh
is come again ! Pharaoh i!^. come again !' and there rose
a .sound of knocking at the ga^es.

Now for that whde Merianum thouglit no more of
slaying the men, but ba-le them open the gates. They
opened, and a man entered clad in raiment stained with
travel. His eyes wen; wild. Ins hair was dishevelled,
and sc'iTce could his face be ':i..^wn for the face of
Phnraol) Meneptah, it was so marred with grief and foar.
Pharai)h looked on the Queen — he looked upon the
dead who lay at her feet, tlien laughed aloud :

' What ! ' he cried, ' more d(\ad ! Is there then no end
to Death and the number of his slain ? Nay, liere ho
doth work but feebly. Perc'iancc his arm grows we-iry.
Come, where are Ihi) deal, Queen? Bring forth thy

dead ! '

* What hath chanced, Meneptah, that thou 3peak«isst

240

THE WORLDS DESIRE. -

thus madly ? ' asked tlie Queen. ' She whom they
name the Hathor hath passed here, and these, and
another who lies yonder, do but mark her path. Speak ! '

' Ay, I will speak, Queen. I have a merry tale to tell.
Thou sayest that the Hathor hath passed here and
these mark her footsteps. Well, I can cap thy story.
He whom the Apura name Jahveh hath passed yonder
by the Sea of Weeds, and there lie many, lie to mark
His footsteps.'

* Thy host ! Where is thy host ? ' cried the Queen.
* At the least some are left.'

'Yes, Queen, a^^ are left — all — all — save myself alone.
They drift to and fro in the Sea of Weeds — they lie by
tens of thousands on its banks ; the gulls tear their
eyes, the lion of the desert rends their flesh ; they lie
unburied, their breath sighs in the sea gales, their
blood sinks into the salt sands, and Osiris numbers
them in the hosts of hell. Hearken ! I came upon Jti^
tribes of the Apura by the banks of the Sea of Weeds.
.T came at eve, but I might not fall upon them because
of a veil of darkness that spread between my armies
and the hosts of the Apura. All night long through
the veil of darkness, and through the shrieking of a
great gale, I heard a sound as of the passing of a
mighty peoph^ — the clangour of their arms, the voices
of captains, the stamp of beasts, and the grinding of
wheels. The morning came, and lo ! before me the
waters of the sea were built up as a wall on the right
hand and the left, and between the walls of water was
dry land, and the Apura passed between the walls.
Then I cried to my captains to arise and follow swiftly.

THE COMING OF Pit A RAO ff.

441

and they did my bidding. But the chariot wlieels
drew heavily in the sand, so that before all my host
had entered between the waters, the Apura had passed
the sea. Then of a sudden, as last of all I passed down
into the path of the ocean bed, the great wind ceased,
and as it ceased, lo ! the walls of water that were on
either side of the sea path fell together with noise like
the noise of thunder. I turned my chariot wheels, and
fled back, but my soldiers, my chariots, and my horses
were swallowed ; once more thev were seeri ;ifjfiin on the
crest of the black waves like a gleam of light upon a
cloud, once a great cry arose to the heaven ; then all
was done and all was still, and of my hosts I alone was
left alive of men.'

So Pharaoh spoke, and a great groan rovse from those
who hearkened. Only Meriamun spoke :

' So shall things go with us while that Fal.^e Hathor
dwells in Khem.'

Now as she spoke thus, again there came a sound of
knocking at the gates and a cry of ' Open — a messenger !
a messenger ! '

' Open ! ' said Meriamun, * tliough his tidings be
ill, scarce can they match these that have been
told.'

The gates were opened and ore came through them.
His eyes stared wide in t'eai\ "o dry was his throat with
haste and with tae sand, that he stood speechless before
them all.

'Give him wine,' cried Meriamun, and wine was
brought. Then he drank, and he fell upon his knees
belore the Queen, for he knew not Pharaoh.

342

THE WORLUS DESIRE.

' Thy tidings 1 ' she cried. ' Be swift with thy
tidings.'

' Let the Queen pardon rae,' he said. 'Let her not
be wrath. These are my tidings. A mighty host
marches towards the city of On, a host gathered from
all lands of the peoples of the North, from tiie lands^ <>f
the Tulisha, of the Shakalishu, of the Liku, tind of the
Sliairdana. They march swiftly and raven, they lay
the country waste, naught is left belau:! tlienj save
the smoke of burning towns, the flight of vultures, and
the cor})ses of men.' . _

'Hast done ?' said Meriamua.

* Nay, O Queen ! A great fleet sails with them up
the eastern mouth of Sihor, and in it are twelve thou-
sand chosen warriors of t'le Acjuaiusha, the sons of those
men who sacked Troy town,'

And now a great groan went up to heaven from the
lips of those who hearkened. Only Meriainun spoke
thus :

' And yet the Apura are gone, for whose sake, ye
say, came the plagues. They are fled, but the curse
remains, and so shall things ever be with us while yon
False Hathor dwells in Khem.'

CHAPTER III.

THE BED OF TORMENT.

It was niglitfall. and Pharauh'sat at meat and Meria-
niun sat by him. The heart of Phara<.h was very
heavy. He thoiioht of tliat great army which d>w
washed to and fro on the waters of the Sea of Weeds,
of whose number he done had lived to tell the tale!
He thought also of the host of the Apura, who made
a mock of him in the desert. But mo3t of all he
brooded on the tidings that the messenger had brought,
tidings of the march of the barbarians and of the fleet
of the Aquaiusha that sailed on the eastern stream of
Sihor. All that <lay he had sat in his council chamber,
and sent forth messengers east and north and south!
bidding them gather the mercenaries from every towri
and in every cit}', men to make war against the foe,
for here, in his white-walled city of Tanis. there were
left but five thousand soldiers. And now, wearied with
toil and war, he sat at meat, and as he sat bethought
him of the maa T^hom he had left to guard the
Queen.

244

THE WORLD'S DESIRE.

' Where, then, is that groat Wanderer, he who wore
the golden harness ?' he asked presently.

' I have a tale to tell thee of tlie man,' Meriamun
answered slowly, *a tale which I have not told because
of all the evil tidings that beat about our ears like sand
in a desert wind.'

'Tell on,' said Pliaraoh.

Then she bent towards him, whispering in his ear.

As she whispered, the face of Pharaoh grew black as
the night, and ere all the tule was done he sprang to
his feet.

' By Amen and by Ptah ! ' he cried, ' here at least we
have a foe whom we may conquer. Thou and I,
Meriamun, my sister and my queen, are set as far each
from each as the sky is set from the temple top, and
litde of love is there between us. Yet I will wipe
away this blot upon thy honour, which also is a blot
upon my own. Sleepless shall this Wanderer lie to-
night, and sorry shall he go to-morrow^, but to-morrow
night he shall sleep indeed.'

Thereupon he clapped his hands, summoning the
guard, and bade them pass to the dungeon where the
Wanderer lay, and lead him thence to the place of
punishment. He bade them also call the tormentors
to make ready the insfruments of their craft, and await
him in the place of punishment.

Then he sat for awhile, drinking sullenly, till one came
to tell him that all was prepared. Then Pharaoh rose.

' Comest thou with me ? ' he asked.

' Nay,' said Meriamun, ' I would not look upon the
^lan again ; and this I chaige thee. Go not down to

THE BED OE TORMENT.

245

liim this night. Let liini be huuiid U|)on thi' bed ol"
torment, and let the toiineiitors )(i\r him food and
wine, for so he shall die more han'l\. Then let them
light the fires at his head and at his feet and leave him
till the dawn alone in the place of torment. So he
shall die a hundred deaths ere ever his death begins.'

'As thou wilt," answered Pharac \ 'Mete out thine
own punishment. To-morrow when I have slept 1 will
look upon his torment. And he spoke to his servants
as she desired.

The ^Vanderer lay ou the bed of torment in the place
of torm ».nt. They had taken the gag from his mouth,
and u'iven him food and wine as Pharaoh commanded.
He ate and drank and his strength came back to him.
Then they made fast his tetters, lit the braziers at his
head and foot, and left him with mocking words.

He lay upon the bed of stone and groaned ir tie
bitterness of his heart. Here tlien was the end of his
wanderings, and this was the breast df the G<.)li!eu Helen
in whose arms A})hrodite had sw.-rn that he should lie.
Oh, that he were free again and stood face to face with
his foes, his harness on his back ! Nay, it might not
be, no mortal strength could burst these fetters, not
even the strength of Odysseus, Laertes' son. Where
now were those Gods whom he had served ? Should
lie never again hear the clarion cry of Pallas ? Why
then had he turned him from Pallas and worshipped
at the shrine of the false Idalian Queen ? Thus it was
that she kept her oaths; tlms she rej>aid her votary.

So he thought in the bitterness of his heart as he

246

THE WORLDS DESIRE.

lay with closed eyes vi|)oii rhe bod of torment wlience
there was no escape, ami ;;ii>aut'd: ' Would, Aphrodite,
that I had never sjerved th'tj, cveii for one littlo hour,
then had my lot j,>(>ne <)tht,rwiM}.'

Now he opened his eyes, and lo ! a great glory rolled
about the place of torment, and as he wondered at the
glory, a voice spoke from its midst — the voice of. the
Idalian A j>iuo lite :

' Blainr rae not, Odysseus,' said I' e heavenl} voice;
'blame me not bocausi- lliou iut. cui^oe to this pass.
Thy; '.'", ^^.-^n of Laertes, art to blame. What did T tell
thee * Was it not that thou sliouldst know the Golden
Hel.!n by the Red Star on her breast, the jewel whence
fall the red drops fast, and by the Star alone ' And did
she not tell thee, also, that thou shouldst k!iow her by
the Star ? Yet when one oaniL' to thee wearing no Star
but girdled with a Snak\ my wi rds were all foigotten,
thy desires led thee whiilier thou wonldst not go. Thou
wast blinded by desire and couldsl not discern the
False from the True, iieauty h;)s many shapes, now it
is tha;, (»f Helen, now that of Meriamun, each sees it as
he desires it. But the Star is yet the Star, nnd the
Snake is yet the Snake, and he wl.o, bewildered of his
lusts, swears by the Snake when he should have sworn
by the Star, shall have the Snake for guerdon.'

She ceased, and the Wanderer spoke, groaning
bitterly :

' 1 have sinned. Queen !' he said. ' Is there then
no forgiveness for my sm ? '

' Ye;i, there i:, forgivenesFs, Odvsseus. but first there
is jtuaii^^hoient. This is tiiy fate Never uovv.. m tlii^

THE BED OE TORMENT.

247

ipaco of life, shalt tlioii be the lord of the Golden
Helen. For thou iiast swurn by the Snake, and his
thou art, nor mayest thou re;u'h the Star. Yet it still
shines on. Through tiie mists of death it shall shino
for thee, ^nil when thou wakcht a;^ain, behold, th-ne
eyes shall see it fitfully.

'And now, tlds lor thy comfort. Here thou shalt
not die, nor by torment, for thy death shall come to
thee from the water as the dead soer foretold, but ere
thou diest, once more thou shalt look u^nm the Golden
Helen, and hear her words of love and know her kiss,
though thine she shall not be, And learn that a great
host marches upon the laud of Khem, and with it sails
a fleet of tliine own people, the Achaeans. Go down
and meet them and take what comes, where the swords
shine that smote Troy. And this fate is had upon thee,
that thou shalt do battle against thy own people, even
against the sons of thorn by whobe side thou didst fight
beneath the walls of Ilios, and in that battle thou shalt
find thy death, and in thy death, thou Waijd(;r<M', tliou
shalt find that which all men seek, the breast of the
immortal Helen. For though here on earth she seems
to live eternally, it is but the shadow of her beauty
that men see — each as lie desires it. In the Imlls of
Death she dwells, and in the garden of Queen Perse-
phone, and there she shall be won, for tlier-^ no more is
beautv <?uarded of Those that stand between m(;u and
joy, and there no more sliall the Snake seem as the Star,
and Sin have power to sever those that are one. Now
make thy heart strong, Odysseus, and so do as tliy
u Lidom tells thee. Farewell I '

248

THE WORinS DESIRE.

Thus tlic (Joddess spoke from the cloud of glory, ami
lo ! she was gone. But the heart of the Wanderer was
fiUf-d with joy because lie knew that the Helen was uot
lost 1 him for ever, and he no mure feared the death of
shame.

« • • • «

Now it was midnight, and Pharaoh slept. But
Meriamiin the Queen slept not. She rose from her
bed, she wrapped herself in a dark cloak that hid her
face, and taking a lamp in her hand, glided through the
empt^ halls till she came to a secret stair down which
she ptvssed. There was a gate at the foot of the stair,
and a guard slept by it. She pnsiied him with her foot.

He awoke and sprang towards her, but she held a
signet before his eyes, an old ring of great Queen
Taia, whereon a Hathor worshipped the sun. Then he
bowed and opened the grte. She swept on through
many passages, deep into the bowels of the earth, till
she came to the door of a little chamber where a liirht
shone. Men talked in the chamber, and she listened to
their talk They spoke much and laughed gleefully.
Then she entered the doorway and looked upon them.
They were six in number, evil -eyed men of Ethiopia,
and seated in a circle. In tlie centre of the circle lay
the waxen image of a man, and they were cutting it
with knives and searing it with needles of iron and
pincers made red -hot, and many instruments strange
and dreadful to look upon. For these were the tor-
mentors, and they spoke of those pains that to-morrow
they should wreak upon the Wanderer, and practised
them.

THE BED OE TORMENT.

249

ButMerijiinun, who loved liim, shivered as slie looked,
and muttered thus beinnith lier breath :

* This I promise you, black ministers of death, that
in the same fashion ye shall die ere another night be
sped.'

Then she passed into the chamber, liolding the signet
on high, and the tormentors fell upon their faces before
her majesty. She passed between them, and as she
went she stamped with her sandalled foot upon the
waxen image and brake it. On the further side of the
chamber was another passage, and this she followed till
she reached a door of stone that stood ajar. Here she
paused awhile, for from within tlic eliamber there came
a v-ound of singing, and the voice was the Wanderer's
voice, and thus he sang :

•Endure, my heart : not long i-linlt thou endure

The .shame, the smart ;
The good and ill are done ; the end is sure ;

Endure, my heart !
There stand two ves.sels by the golden throne

Of Zens on liigh.
From these he .scatters mirth and scattera moan,

To men that die.
And thou of many joys hast had thy share,

Thy perfect part ; ■*

Battle and love, and evil things and fair ;

Endure, my heart !
Fight one last greatest battle under .shield,

Wage that war well :
Then seek thy fellows in the shadowy lield

Of asphodel.
There is the knightly Hector ; there the men

Who fought for Troy ;
Shall we not fight our battles o er again 1

Were that not joy ]

250 THE IVOKLLYS DESIRE.

Though no «un ithinen beyoii;! the tlufiky west,

Thy pel tect purl
Thf're Khult tlioii have ol' tht' unbroken rest ;

Etulure, uty heart !'

MoriMmun h(!ard and wondered at this man's hardi-
hood, and tho greatness ot his heart who could sing
thus iis he lay upori tliu bed of torment. Now she
pushed tho door open silently and pa -sod in. The pkve
wlierc she stood was dreadful. It was shape<l fxs a lofty
vault, and all the walls were painted with the torments
of those who pass down to Set after living wickedly on
earth. In the walls were great rings of bronze, and
chains and fetters of bronze, wherein the bones of men
yet hung. In the centre of the vault tliere was a bod
of stone on which the Wanderer was fastened with
fetters. He was naked, save only for a waistcloth. anil
at his head and feet burned polished bruzi(^rs that gave
light to the vault, and shone u}jun the instruments of
torment. Beyond the further brazier grinned the cage
of Sekhef, that is shaped like a woman, and the chains
wherein the victim is set ibr tho lust torment by tire,
were hanging from the roof.

Meriamun passed stealthily behind the head of the
Wanderer, who might not see her because of the
straitness of his bonds. Yet it seemed to her that he
heard somewliat, for he ceased from singing and turned
his ear to hearken. She stood awhile in silence
looking on him she loved, who of all living men was
the goodliest by far. Then at hngth he spoke
craftily : . ^

• W^ho art thou ? ' he said. * If thou art of the

77//; BED OF TORMENT,

25»

nuinlMT nf till' tor mmjii tors, ))ogin thy work \ frur tlie«
not, and no groMn sliall tliy worst torture wrin;^ t'roM
thfthe lips of mine. I3ut I toll thor tins, thut I'ro I luj
three days d<!.'i(l, i\w Uvxls shall avenj^t! me terribly, })i it h
on tliee and tliose who sent thee. With tire and with
swoid fliey sli,ill avenge ine, lor a great host gathers
anil draws niL'h, a host of many nations gathered out of
all hinds, ay, and a fleet manneil with the sons of my
own people, of the Acha^ans teriible in war. They rush
on like ravening wolves, and tho land is blnjk before
them, but till' land shall be stamped red behind their
feet. Soon they shall give this city to the flames, the
smoke of it shall go up to heaven, and the tires shall be
((uenched at last in the bloofl of its childien — ay, in thy
blood, thou who dost Inok on me.'

Hearing these words Meriainiin bent forward to ]ot>k
on the face of the sp».aker and to see what was written
there; and as she moved, her cloak »*lipped apart,
sliowinLT the Snake's head with, the eves of tlame that
was set about her as a girdlo. Fiercely they glean)ed,
and the semblance of them was shown faintly on the
polislied surface of the brazier wherein the fire burned
at the Wanderer's feet. He saw it, and now he knew
who stood behind him.

'Say, Meriamun the Queen — Pharaoh's dishonoured
wife,' he said, ' say, wherefore art thou come to look
upon thy work ? Nay, stand not behind me, stand
wliere 1 may see thee. Fear not, I am strongly bound,
nor may I lift a ha. 1 against thee.'

Then Meriamun, still speaking no word, but wonder-
ing much because he knew her ere liis eyes fell upon

252

THE WORLDS DESIRE.

\ ' \

her, passed inaTid tlie bed of torment, and throwing
down her cloak stood bcforo him in her dark and
royal loveliness.

He looked upon her beauty, then spoke again :
* Say, wherefore art thou come hither, Meriaraun ?
Surely, with my ears 1 heard thee swear that I had
wronged thee. Wouldst thou then kiok on him who
wronged thee, or art tliou come, perchance, to watch my
torments, while thy slaves tear limb from limb, and
quench yon fires with my blood ? Oh, thou evil woman,
thou hast worked woe oji me indeed, and perchance
canst work more woe now that I lie helpless here. But
tbis I tell thee, that thy torments shall outnumber mine
as the stars outnumber the earth. For here, and here-
after, tiiou shalt be parched with such a thirst of love
as never may be quenched and in many another land,
and ill in.i"y another time, thou shalt endure thine
ago?iy afretih. Again, and yet again, thou shalt clasp
and conquer ; again ared yet again, thou shalt let slip,
and in the momt-at of triumph lose. By the Snake's
head I swore my troth to thee. I, who should have
sworn by the Star; a id this I tell thee, Meriamun, that
as the Star shall shine and be my beacon through the
ages, so through the ages shall the Snake encircle thee
and be tliv doom.'

' Hold ! ' said Meriamun, ' pour no more bitter words
upon me, who am distraught of love, and was maddened
by thy scorn. V\ )uldst thou know then why J am
come hither? For this cause I am come, to save thee
fr-rn thy doom. Hearken, the time is short. It is
true — though how thou knowest it I may not guess — it

J-HE BED OF TORMENT.

253

is true that tlie barbarians march on Khera, and with
tliem sails a fleet laden with the warriors of thine own
people. Tliii? also is true, Pharaoh has returned alone :
and all his host is swallowed in the Sea of Weeds.
And I, foolish that I am, I would save thee, Odysseus,
thus : I will put it in the heart of Pharaoh pardon
thy great offence, and send thee forward a^;ainst the
foe ; yes, I can do it. But this thou shalt swear to me,
to be true to Pharaoh, and smite the barbarian host.'

' That I will swear,' said the Wanderer, * ay, and keep
the oath, though it is hard to do battle on my kin. Is
that all thy message, Meriamun ? '

' Not all, Odysseus. One more thing must thou
swear, or if thou swearest it not, here thou shalt surely
die. Know this, sho who in Khem is named the
Hathor, but who perchance has other names, hath put
thee from her because last night thou wast wed to me.'

' It may well be so,' said the Wan ierer.

'She hath put thee from her, and thou — thou art
bound to me by that whicli cannot be un<ione, and by
an oath that mav not be broken ; in whatever shape I
walk, or by wha ever name I am known among men,
still thou art bound to me, as I am bound to thee. This
then thou shalt swear, that thou wilt tell naught of last
night's 'ale to Pharaoh.'

' Tliat I swear,' said the Wanderer.

' Also that if Pharaoh be gathered to Osiris, and it
should chance that she who is named the Hatlior pass
with him to the IJndei-world, then that thou, Odysseus,
wilt wed me, Meriamun, and he faithful t<j nie for thv
life days.'

254

THE WORLDS DESIRE.

Now the crafty Odysseus took counsel v\lth his heart,
and bothoujjht him of the words of the Goddess. He
saw that it was in the mind of Meriamun to slay
Pharaoh and tlie Helen. But he cared nothing for
the fjite of Pharaoh, and knew well tliat Helen might
not be harmed, and that thou<']i she chanjjfe aternallv,
wearinu- nnw this shape, and now that, yet she dies only
when the race of men is doad — then to be gathered to
the number of the Gods. This he knew also, that now
he must go forth on his last i/andering, for Death
sliould come upon him from the water. Therefore he
answered readily :

'That oath I swear also, Mer' unun, and if I breaK it
may I perish in shame and for ever.*

Now Meriamun lieard, and knelt beside him, looking
upon him with eyes of love.

. * It is well, Odysseus : perchance ere long I shall
claim thy oath. Oh, think not so ill of me : if I have
sinned, I have sinn '<! from love of thee. Long years
ago, Odysseus, thy shadow fell upon my heart and 1
clasped its emprinoss. Now thou art come, and I, who
pursued a shadow from sleep to sleep and dream to
dream, saw thee a living man, and lov^ d thee to my
ruin. Then I tamed my pride and came to .\'m thee to
my heart, and the Gods set another shape upon nie —
so thou sayest — and in that shape, the shape of hei dum
seekest, thou didst make me wife to thee, rorchance
she and I are oyie, Odysseus. At the least, not so
readily had / forsaken ttiee. Oh, when thou didst
stand in thy might holding th'xse dogs at bay til! the
Sidonian knave cut thy bowstring — '

THE BED OF TORMENT.

255

' Wliat of him ? Tell me, what of that Kurri ? This
woiilj I ask thee, Queen, that he be laid where I lie,
and die the death to which I am doomed.'

' Gladly would I give thee the boon,' she answered,
'but thou askest too late. The False Hathor looked
upon him, and he slew himself. Now I will away —
the night wanes and Pharaoh must dream dreams ere
dawn. Fare thee well, Odysseus. Thy bed is hard
to-night, but soft is the couch of kings that waits thee,'
and she went forth from him.

' Ay, thou evil woman,' said the Wanderer, looking
after her. ' Hard is my bed to-i)ight, and soft is the
couch of the k^'ngs of Men that waits me in the re;ilrns
of Queen Persephone. Put it is not thou who shalt
share it. Hard is my bed to-night, hardei- si all thine
be througli all the nights of death that are to como
when the Erinnyes work their will on folk forsworn.'

CHAPTER IV.

PHARAOHS DREAM.

Pharaoh slept heavily in his place, for he was
weari'-d with grief and toil. But Meriamun passed
intr the chamber, and standing at the foot of the
golden bed, lifted up her hands and by her art called
visions down on Pharaoh, false dreams through the
Ivory Gate. So Pharaoh dreamed, and thus his vision
went: —

He dreamed that he slept in his bed, and that the
statue of Ptah, the Creator, descended from the pedestal
by the temple gate and came to him, towering over
him like a giant. Then he dreamed that he awoke,
and prostrating himself before the God, asked the
meaning of his coming. Thereon the God spoke to
him : —

* Meneptah, my son, whom I love, hearken unto mc.
The Nine-bow barbarians overrun the ancient land of
Khem ; nine nations march up against Khem and lay
it waste. Hearken unto me, my son, and I will give
thee victory. Awake, awake from sloth, and I will give
I'.hee victory. Thou slialt hew down the Niiie-bow
barbarians as a countryman hews a rotting palm; ih«>y
.sliall f»!I, aiul tlnni shalt spoil them. But hearken

PTIARAOirS DRIAM.

257

unto me, my son, thou shalt not thyself go up against
them. Low in thy dungeon there lies a mighty chief,
skilled in the warfare of the barbarians, a Wanderer who
hath wandered far. Thou shalt release him from his
bonds and set him over thy armies, and of the sin that
he has sinned thou shalt take no heed. Awake, awake.
Meneptah ; with this bow which I give thee shalt thou
smite the Nine-bow barbarians.'

Then Mv^riamun kid the bow of the Wanderer, even
the black bow of Eurytus, on the bed beside Pharaoh,
and passed thence to her own chamber, and the deceitful
dream too passed away.

Early in the morning, a waiting-woman came to the
Queen saying that Pharaoh would speak with her. She
went into the ante-chamber and found him there, and
in his hand was the black bow of Eurytus.

' Dost thou know this weapon ? ' he asked.

' Yea, 1 know it,' she answered ; ' and thou should st
know it also, for surely it saved us from the fury of the
people on the night of the death of the first-born. It
is the bow of the Wanderer, who lies in the place of
torment, and waits his doom because of the wrong he
would have wrought upon me.'

' If he hath wronged thee, yet it is he who shall save
Khem from the barbarians,' said Pharaoh. ' Listen
now to the dream that I have dreamed,' and he told
her all the vision.

' It is indeed evil that he who would have wrought
such wickedness upon me should go forth honoured,
the first of the ho.st of Pltaraoh,' quoth ALtriamun.

258

THE WORLiys DESIRE.

' \'et as the God bath spoken, so let it be. Send now
and bid them loose the tnan from the place of torment,
and put his armour on him and bring him before thee.'

So Pharaoh wont out, and the Wandtner was looed
from his bed of gtone and clothed again in his golden
harness, and came forth gloiious to see, and stood before
Pharaoh. But no arms were given him. Then Pharaoh
told him all his dream, and why he caused him to be
released from the grip of the tormentors. The Wanderer
hearkened in silence, saying no word.

' Now choose, thou Wanderer,' said Pharaoh ; ' choose
if thou wilt be borne back to the bed of torment, there
to die beneath the hands of the tormentors, or if thou
wilt go forth as the captain of my host to do battle with
the Nine-bow barbarians who waste the land of Khem.
It seems there is little faith in thine oaths, therefore
I ask no more oaths from thee. But this I swear, that
if thou art false to my trust, I will yet find means to
bring thee back to that chamber whence thou wast leri
but now.'

Then the Wanderer spoke : —

' Of that charge, Pharaoli, which is laid against me I
will say nothing, though perchance if I stood upon my
trial for the sin that is laid against me, 1 might find
woi'ds to say. Thou askest no oath from nie, and no
oath 1 swear, yet I tell thee that if thou givest me ten
thousand soldiers and a hundred chariots, I will smite
these foes of thine wso that they shall come no more to
Khem, ay, though they be of my own people, yet will
I smite them, and if 1 fail, then may those who go with
me slav me and s(Mi(^ mq down to Hades.'

PHA RA OH 'S DREA M

25<i

Thus he spoke, and as lie spoke soarcli(id tlic liall
with his eyoN. For ho desin^d to see Rei the Piie.st,
and charge him with a message to HeJ(;n. But he
sought him in vain, for Rei liad lied, and was in liiding
trom the anger of Meriamun.

Then Pharaoh bade his officers take the Wanderer,
and set him in a chariot and bear liim to the city of
On, when; Pharaoh's host was gathermg. TJieir rharcre
was to watch him night and day with uplifted swords,
and if he so mucli as turned his face fpm the foe
towards Tanis, tlien they should slay him. But when
the host of I'liaraoh marched from Or) to do battle
on the foe, then they should give the Wanderer liis
own swoi"d aT>d the great black bow, and obey lum
in everything. But if he tiant-d his back upon the
foo, then they should slay him ; or if the host of Pharaoh
were driven back by the foe, then they should sla}-
him.

The Wan<lerer heard, and smiled as a wolf smiles,
but spoke no word. Thereon the great officers of
Pharaoh took him and led him forth. They set him in
a chariot, and with the chariot went a thousand hors -
men ; and soon Meiiamun, watching fiom the walls ol
Tanis, saw the long line uf deseit dust that marked
the passing of the Wandtirer froni the city which he
should see no more.

The Wandorer also looked back on T.-mis with a
heavy heart. There, far away, he could s.;e the shrine
of Hathor gleaming like crystal above tlie tawny flood
of waters. And Ik; must go down to death, leaving no
woiu for Her wiio sat in the slirino- and deemed him

26o

THE WORLLrS DESIRE,

faithless and forsworn. Evil was tlie lot that the Gods
had laid upon liim. and bitter wai his f;U('rdon.

His thoughts were sad enouj h while the chariot
rolled toward tlio city of On, where tlie host of Pljarauh
was gathering, and the thiiiKler of the feet of horses
echoed in his eanj, when, as he j)ondered, it cimnced
that he looked n, There, on a kru! of a .1 » efore
him, a. bow-shot I'rotn the chariot, stood ,i ; a/Lu;], and on
the camel a man sat as thougli he waited ihe qo\v,\\% ol
the host. I lly the Wanderer wondered who this might
be, and, as he wondered, the man urged the camel
towards the cliariot, aiid, halting before it, cried ' Hold ! '
in a loud voice.

'Who art thou?' critnl the captain of the chnriot,
'who darest cry ' hold " to the host of Pharaoh ? '

'I am one who have lidings of the barbarians,' the
man made answer from the camel.

The Wanderer looked on him. He was wondrous
little, withered and old ; moreover, his skin was black
as though with the heat of the sun, and his clothing
was as a beggar's rags, though the trappings of the
c'?imel were of purple leathei and bossed with silver.
Again the Wanderer looked; he knew fiim not, and
yet there was that in his face which seemed familiar.

Now the captain of the chariot bade the driver halt
the horses, and cried, ' Draw near and tell thy tidings.'

' To none will J tell my tidings save to him who shall
lead th-> host of Pharaoh. Ljt him come down from
the chariot and speak with nie,'

'That may not be,' said the captain, for he was
charged that the WantJerer should have i-pi-ecli with none.

niA RA Oirs Dh'EAM.

261

* As Mion wilt,' answered the ai^ed man n{x»ri the
came); go then, go on to 'ooni ! thou art not the
first wij liatli turnec^ aside a messenger from the
Gods/

'I ar. minded to bid the so]iiers shoot thee with
anows/ cried tlie <* pt. n in aiioer.

' So shall my wisdom sink in the saml with my blood,
and be lost with my breath. Shoot on, thou fool.'

Now the captain was perplexed, for Irom the aspect
of the mail lie deemed that he was sent by the Gods.
He looked at the Wanderer, who took but little heed, or
so it seemed. But in his crafty heart he knew that
this was the best way to win speech with the man upon
the camel. Then the captain tt)ok ounstd with the
captain of the horsemen, and in the end they said to
the Wanderer :

' De.^eend from the chariot, lord, and walk twelve
paces forward, and there hold speech with the man.
But if thou go one ()ace further, then we will shoot
thee and the man with arrows.' And this lie cried
out, also t(» him wlio sat upon the camel.

Then the man on the camel descended and walked
twelve paces forward, ami the Wanderer descended also
from the chariot and walked twelve paces forward, but
as one who heeds little what be does. Now the two
stood face to face, but out of earshot of the host, who
watched them with arrows set upon the .strings.

' Greeting, Odysseus of Ithaca, son of Laertes/ he
said who w.us clothed in tlie beggar s weeds

The Wanderer looked upon him hard, and knew him
through his disguise.

262

THE WOKtAys DE^JKE.

* Greeting, II<h the Priest, Coiimiaiuhfr of the Legion
of Amen, Chief of the Treasury of Amen.'

' Kei tiie Priest I am infleod,' he answered, ' the rest
I am no more, for Meriannm the Queen has strippe<l
me of my wealth and offices, because of thee, tlioii
Wanderer, and the Immortal wliose love liiou hast won,
and by whom thou liast dealt so ill. Hearken ! I
learned by arts known to me of the dream of Pharaod.
and of thv sendinj:; fortjj to do battle with tlie barbai-
ians. Tiien I disguised myself as thou seest, and took
tlie swiftest camel in Tani.s, and am come hither by
another way to meet thee. Now 1 would ask thee one
thing. How came it thai thou didst pl;iy the Imrnortnl
false that ni^lit? Kno.vesi thou tiiat she waited ibr
thee there by tlio pylon gate ? Ay, there I found her
and led her to the Palace, and for that I am stripped ot
my rank and goods by Meriannm, and now the Lady of
Beauty is returned t(» Iter slu'ine, grieving bitterly for
thy faithlessness ; though how she passed thither I
know not.'

*Methought I heard her voice as those knaves bore
me to my dungeon,' said the Wanderer. 'And she
deemed me faithless ! Sav, Kei, dost thou know the
magic of Meriainun ? Dost tliou know how she won
me to herself in tlie shape of Argive Helen ? '

And th(.'n, in as ffw words as might, be, he told Rei
how he hfid been led away by the magic of Mtiriamun,
how lu; who should have sworn bv the Star had sworn
by the Snake.

When Rei heard that the Wanderer had sworn bv
the Snake, he shuddered. ' Now I know all,' he said.

PJlARAOirS DREAM.

263

'Fear not., tlioii Wanderer, not on tlieo shall all
the evil fall, nor on that Immortal whom thou dost
love; the Snake that biyuiled thee sliall avenge thee
also.'

' Rei,' the Wanderer said, 'one tiling T charge thee.
I know that T go down to iry death. Therefore I piay
thee seek out her whom thou namest the llathor and
tell her all the tale of how I was betrayed. So shall I
die happily, Tell her also that 1 crave her forgiveness
and that I love her and her only.'

'This I will do if J may,' Rei answered. 'And now
the soldiers murmur and I must be gone. Listen, the
might of the Nine-bow barbai inns i(jIIs U}) the eastern
branch of Sihor. But one day's nuirch from On the
mountains run down to the edge of the river, and those
mountains are piemed by a rocky pass through which
the foe will surely come. Set thou thy and>ush there,
Wanderer, there at Prosopis — so shalt thou smite them.
Farewell. I will seek out the Hathor if in any way
I can come at her, and tell her all. But of this I
warn thee, the hour is big with Fate, and soon will
spawn a monstrous birth. Strange visions of doom and
death passed before mine eyes as I slept last night.
Farewell !'

Then he went back to the catnel and cUmbed it and
passing round the a. my vanished swiftly in a cloud of
dust.

The Wanderer also went back to the host, where the
captains umrmured because uf the halt, and mounted his
chariot. But he would ttdl nothing kA what the man
had said to him, save that be was surely a messenger

264

THE WORLDS DHSIRE,

froiri Uie Inder-worM to insfnict him in fche waging iA
the war.

Then the chariot and the ho stujon passed on again,
till Lhey canu' to the (i"ty of On, an i found the host of
Pharaoh g.ithering in the great walled space that i
before tiie Teniph^ of Ua. And there they pit-hed
their camp hard by tlie great obelisks that stand at
the inner gate, which Rei the arclntect fashioied bv
Thebes, and the divine Rameses Miamun set u" tu tiic
glory of Ua lor ever.

CHAPTER V.

THE VOICE OF I'HK DKAD.

When Mcriammi tlio Quoon bad watched the chariot
of tlie Wandeier till it was lo>.t in the (hist of the desert,
she passed dowu from the Palace roof to the solitude of
her chamber.

Here she sat in her eliamber till the darkness
gatliered, as the evil tlioughts gatliered in her licart,
that was rent with love of liim whom she had won but
to lose. Tljings h;id gone ill with her, to little purpose
she had sinned after such a fashion as m.iy not be for-
given. Yet there was hope. He had sworn that he
would wed lier when Pharaoh was dead, and vhen
Argive Helen had followed Piiaraoh to the 81' des.
Should she shrink then from the deed of blood ^ Nay,
from evil to evil she would go. She laid her hand upon
the double-headed si tke that wound her about, and
spake into the gloom:

' Osins waits thee, Meiieptah — Osiris waits thee !
The Shades of those who have died for thy love, Helen,
are gathering at the gates. It .shall be done. Pharaoh,
thou diest to-night. To-morrow mght, thou Goddiss
Helen, shall all thy tale be told, ^f"n rn;iy not liarm

2()<

TtlR WORLiyS DESIRE.

thee indeed. l)ut. slmJl (ire refuse to ki.ss tliy loveli-
ness? Are tiiere no w;(/WY;/t',s'}iauJs to light thy funenil
pile?'

Then she rose, and cnlhng lun ladies, was attired in
her most splendid robes, and caused the uraeus crown to
be set upon her head, the snake circlet of power on her
brow, the snake girdle of wisdom at her heart. And
now she hid sovuewha.t in })er breast, aiid j)assed to the
aiite-chamber, where the Priaces gathered for the feast.

Pharaoh looked ip and saw h<T loveliness. So
glorious she seemed In iier royal beauty that his heart
forgot its woes, and once again he loved her as he had
dune in years gone by, when she conquered liiu) at the
Game of Pieces, and he had cast his arms iibout her
and she stabbed him.

She saw the look of love grow on his heavy face, and
all her gathered hate rose in her breast, though she
smiled gently with I er lips and spake him fair.

They snt at the feast and Fharaoli drank. An<l ever
as he diark shv smiled upon hiin with her dark eyes and
sj^ake him words of gentlest meaning, till at length there
was uuthing he desired more than that they shoukl
b'.^ at one again.

Now the feast was done. They sat in the ante-
ciiamber, for all were gone save Meneptah and Meria-
niun. Then he came to her and took iier hand, looking
into her eyes, nor did she say him nay.

There was a hite lying on a golden table, and there
tuo, as it chanciMl, was a board for tlie Ga lUf of Pieces,
with tlu; dice, and the pieces themselves wrought in
•old.

THE VOICE 01' TIJE DEAD.

r67

Pharaoh tv)ok up the gold king fiT»rn the board and
toyi.'d witli it in Ids liaiid. ' Merianuni,' he said, ' tor
tliose five years we have been aj)art, thou and T. Thy
love I have lost, as a garue is lost ior one Inlse move,
or one tlirow of tlie dice ; and oui- ( hiid is dead and
our armies are scattered, and the barbarians come like
flies when fSihor stirs within his banks. Love only is
left to us, Meriamun,'

She looked at iiim not unkindly, as if sorrow and
wrong had softened her heart also, but she did not
speak.

" Can dead Love wa;ken, Meriamun, and can angry
Love forgive ? *

She had lifted the lute and her fingers touched list-
lessly on the cords.

' Nay, I know not,' she said ; ' who knosvc! ? How did
Pentaur sing of Love's renewal I'eni .ur tlio ulorious
minstrel of our father. Rameses Miainun ?'

He laid the gold king on tht; board, and bouan list-
lessly to cast the dice. He th'ew the 'PLithor' as it
chanced, the lucky cast, two sixes, and a thought of
better fortune came to liim.

! How^ did the song run, Meriamun? It is many a
year since I heard thee sing.'

She touched the lute h>wl3' and sweetly, aiid then
she sang. Her thouglits were of the Wanderer, but the
King deemed tiiat she tliou.lit oi' himself.

joy of Lovh',-* Tonewiug,
Could Lovo 1m' born a'..rain ;

Rcleutitjii- f(ir l])y ruciiii^,
And ji!i} iiiu; Jity pain :

268 THE WORLDS DESJKE.

. O joy of Lov.;'s awakitig,

Could Tiuve ari^e Iron; sleep,
P'orgLvmg our iorsaking

The fields we would nut reap!

Fleet, fleet we fly. puTsuiiig

The Love that tied auiain,
But will he li.st our wooing,

Or call wi- Init in vain '^
Ah ': vain is all our wooing,

And all our prayers are vain,
L(v)ve listcih nut our suing,

Love will not wake again.

*Wiil li'i tiot wak.^ again? saiit Fhaiaoli. ' If two
pray to^f-'tlier, will Love refuse their prayer V

* It miglit be so,' slie saitl, 'if two ])ray('d together;
for if they pra.ye(l, he w(»uld lia.ve heard ah-eady 1'

' Meriamiiu,' said the Pharaoli eagerly, for Ik^ thought
her heart was moved, by pity ; .nd .sorrow, ' once thou
<lidst win my crown .at the Pieces, wilt tliou play me
for thy love ? '

She thoiioiif f>i one moment, and then she said •
' Yf.^s, I will pl;iy thee, my Lord, but my hand has
lost its cunning, and if may well be tliat Meriamun
siiall lose again, as she has lost all. Let me set tb.e
Pieces, and bring wine for my lord.'

She sot the Pieces, and ciossing tlie room, she Tiffed
a great cup of wine, and put it by Pharaoh's hand.
But he v-as so intent on the game that he did no^ drink.
He took the field, he moved, she repHed, and so the
game went between them, in the dark fVagront chamber
where the Jatnp buincd. and the Queen's eyes shone in
the night. T lis way and that went the game, dll she
lost, and ho swept the board.

TI{E VOICE OF THE HEAD.

269

Then in triumph liu draiiKMl tl.o poisoned cup of
wine, and cried, ' Pharaoh is dead ''

' Pharoaii is dead ! ' answered Moriaiuun, gaziug into
his eyes.

' What is that look in thine eyes, Meriamun, what is
that look in tliine eyes'*'

And the King grew pale as the dead, for he had seen
that look before — wlieu Meriamun slew Hataska.

' Pharaoli is dead!' she shrilled in the tone of
women who wail the dirges. ' Pharaoh, great Pharaoh
is dea<) ! Kre a man may c(»nnt a hundred thy days are
numbered. Strange ! but to-morrow, Meneptah, shalt
thou sit where Hataski sat, dead on the knees of Death,
an Osirian in the lap <if the Osiris. Die, Pharaoh, die !
But while thou diest, hearken. There is one I love,
the Wanderer who leads thy hosts. His love I stole by
arts known to n^e, and because 1 stole it he wo\dd have
shamed me, and I accused bun falsely in the ears of
men. But he conies again, and, so sure as, thou shalt
sit on the knees of Osiris, so surely sliall he sit upon
thy thron<\ Pharaoh For Pharaoh is dead!'

He heard. He gathered his last strength. I{e rose
and stao-oered towards her, .strikinsi at the air, Slowlv
she drew away, while he followed her, awful to see. At
length he stood still, he tb^-ew up his liands, and fell
dea<i.

Then Meriamun drew ueax and looke.! at hini
strangely.

' Behold t)*e end of Pharaoh,' she said. That tucn
was a king, ujion whose breath the lives of peoples hung
like a poiHod (I'-iilier. Well, let him go! Eaitli can

270

THE nOjajJS DESIRE.

spare him aixl Dealli Is but tin; riclior by a weary for)!.
'Tis done, aii-l well done I Would that to-morrow's task
wore also done — and that Helen l.iy as Pnaraoli lies.
So — rinse th(.; eup — a:.d now to sleep — if sleep will eonio.
Ah, where hath sleep tlnuti of late? To-morrow they'll
tind him dead. Well, wiiat of it? So do kings olltiiiii;.
die. There, I will be ,^o^ng ; never were his eyes so
large and so unlovely 1'

Now the light of morning gatliered agnin on mH tlic
temple tops, aiid men riKse from sh.'eit to go al out tl.fir
labours. Meriamun watciied it grow as slie lay sleepless
in lier golden bed, waitiiig for the cry tliat ])res(.'nt!y
should ring along the Pala.(X! walls. Hark ! What was
that ? The sound of swijiging doors, the rush (^f rnnning
feet. And now it eame — lonu- and shrill it rose.

Pharaoh is dead 1 Awake! Awake', ye sleo|

)(•!> .

Awake! awake! and look upon that which lias eoine
about. Piiaraoh is dead ! I'lciraoli is<lead:'

Then Meriamun aroso, and followed by the ladies.
rushed from her ehamlvr.

Who dream

s so

evil I V ? ' si

i(i sau

1. ' Who dreams

and cries aloud in his hnunted sl(;ep ? '

' Queen, it is no dnMim ' said > ne. 'Pass into the
ante-chandii-r an<l see. There lies Pharaoh dead, akid
ith no wound upon him to tell the manner of his

end.'
Tl

len

'Tiamun cri.

aloud wjth a great ery, and
air about her ta- 1, , \', Ink ears fell from her
da.rk eyes. She passod into ti'o chamber^ and thoi't^

threw her

fallen of) his back an

\':x\\

i !a\'

It;

>ll \\\ US

roy,

THE VOICE OF 7 HE DEAD.

271

robes. Awhilo the Queen looked upon liitn Jis one
who is dumb with grief. Then she lifted up lier voice

and

criei

Kh(

(\ tlio people

. ' Still ia tlie curse heavy upon ivneni and the
of Kliem. Pharaoh lies dead ; yea, he is dead who h.'is
no wo\ind, and this I say, that he is slain of the witch-
craft of her whom men name the Hathor. Oh, my
Lord, my Lord ! ' and kneeling, she laid her Imn 1 upou
his breast; 'by this dead heart of thine I swear that 1
will wreak thy murder on her who wrought it. Lift
him up! Lift up this poor cL'tv, that was the first of
kings. Clothe him in the robes (jf death, and set him
on the knees of Osiris in the Temple of Osiris. Then
go forth through the city and call oul this, the Queen's
command ; call it from street to street. This is the
Queen's com maud, that " every woman in Tanis who
has lost son, or husband, or brother, or kin v'r lover,
through the witchcraft of the False Hatlior, or by the
plagues that she hath wrought on Kheni, or in v.he war
with the Apura, whom she caused to Hy from Khem,
do meet me at sundown in the Temple of Osiris before
the face of the God and of dead Pharaoh's Majesty.'"

So they took Meneptali the Osirian, arul wrapping
him in the robes of death, bore him to the knees of
Osiris, where he should sit a day and a night. And the
messengers of Meriamun went forth sunimoning the
women of the city to meet her at sunset in the Temph
of Osiris. Moreover, Meriamun sent out slaves bv tons
and by twenties to tht number of two thousand, bid-
ding them gather up jdl the vvood that was in Tanis.
:ind all the oil and the bitumeu, and bundles of reeda

2^2

THE WORLiyS DESIRE.

by liu( drods such as are UKed for tlie lliatching of
houses, and lay them in piles and stacks in a certain
courtyard near the Temple of Hathor. This they did,
and so the day wore on. while the women wailed about
the streets becaiu,e of the death of Piiaraoh,

Now it chanced that the camel of Rri the Priest fell
down from weariness as it journeyed swiftly hack to
Tanis. But Rei sped forward on foot, and came to
the gates of Tanis,, sorely wearied,, towards the even-
'vi\% of that day, When he heard the wailing of the
Avomen, he asked of a passer-by what new evil had
fallen upon Khem, and learned the death of Pharaoh.
Then Rei knew by whose hand Pharaoh vvas dead, and
was grieved at heart, because she whom he had served
and loved — Meriamun the moon-chilii — was a murderess.
At first he was minded to go up before the Queen and
put her to an open shame, and then take his death at
her hands; but when he heard that JMeriamun had
summoned all the women of Tanis to meet her in
the Temple of Osiris, he had another thought. Hurry-
ing to that place where he hid m the city, he aie and
drank. Then he put off his beggar's rags, and robed
himself afresh, and over all drew the garment of an
aged Tone, for this wa> told him, tbat no man should
be suffered to enter the Teiuple. Now the day was
'iying, and already the western sky was red, and he
hurried forth and mingled with the stream of w'on.ien
who passed towards the Temple gates.

' Who tlien slew Pharaoh ^ ' asked one , * and whv
•does the Queen summon us to me<;t her ? '

THE VOICE OE THE DEAD.

273

'P})arai)h is sla'n by the witchuraf't of the False
Halhor,' tnswert'd another, 'and the Quoeii suniuions
VIS that we may take counsel how to be rid of the
Hathor.'

' Tell not of the acciirse<i Hatlior,' said a third ; ' my
husband and my brother are dead at her hands, and
lay son died in the death of the ^'rst-bom that she called
down on Khem. Ah, if I (^mld but see her rent limb
from hmb 1 should seek Osiris liappily.'

'Some there be,' quoth a fourth, "who say that not
the Hathor, but the Gods of those Aptira brouglit the
woes on Khem, and some that Pharaoh was slain bv
the Queen's own hand, because of the love she bears to
that great Wanderer who came here a whilf ago,'

'Thou fool,' answei'ed the first; 'how can the Qr;ren
love one who would have wroujjht outrage on her ? '

' Such things have been,' said the fourth woman ;
' perchance he wrought no outrage, perchance she
beguiled him as women may. A'^es, yes, such things
have been. I am old, and I have seen such things.'

'Yea, thou art old,' said the first. 'Thou hast no
child, no husband, no father, no lover, and no brother.
Thou hast lost none who are dear to thee through the
magic of the Hathor. Sijeak one more such slander on
the Queen, and we will fall upon thee and tear thy
lying tongue from its roots.'

' Hush,' said the second woman, ' here are the Temple
gates. By Isis did any ever see such a multitude ot
women, and never a man to cheer them, a drear/ sight,
indeed! Come, push on, push on, or we shall find no
place. Yea. thou soldier — we are women, all WMiuen,

2 74

THE WORLD'S PESIRE.

liave no fear. No need to )).'irf' 'mu brousts, look at
our eyca blind wit.b \vi'C|'it»g over the dead. Punb on I
puflh oil ! '

So thoy pass(Ml by tho gMianls and irdo the gatoa
of tho Tompk;, niid with them went Roi nidioedod.
Already it wm.s well-ni^i-h filled with women. Altliouj^di
the sviii was not yet dead, torches were sot about to
lighten t'lo gl /'im, and hy therii Rei saw that the
curtains before the Shrine v ere drawn. Presiently the
Tem])le was full to ov( iHowing, the doors wt;re sliut
and barn-d, and a voice from beyond Uie veil cried:

' Silence ! '

Then all the multitude of women were silent, and
the light of tlie torches flared strangely ujxtn their
s^h'ftiU^ ujj..iirned faces, as fires flare over the white
sen-foam. Now tiu curtains of the Shrine of Osiris
were drawn aside slowly, and the light that burned
upon the altar streamed out between them. It fell
upon tne foremost ranks of v\, men, it fell upon the
polished statue of tlie Osiiis. K,'n the knees of Osiiis
sat tlie body of Pharaoh Mene[)tah, his head resting
against the bicast of ihi (Jod, Pharaoh Avas wrapped
about with winding clothes hke the marble statue of
the God, <Tnd in his coid hajids were bound the crook,
the sceptre, and the scourge, as the crook, the sceptre,
and tlie j^courge were placed in fhe liands of the effigy
of the God. As was the statute of tlie God, so was the
body of Pharaoh that sat upon his knees, and cold and
awful was the face of Osiris, and cold and awful was
the face of Meneptah the (jsirian.

At the side, and somewhat in front of the statue of

TUL VOICE OF TJIE DEAD.

275

tlio G'ld a throrio was plat;e(l of blackest inaihlo, and oi\
the throiu! s;it Meriamiin tlio Qiictn. She was trlorious
t(j look on. Slie wore the roy.il robes of Klieni, the
double crown ot Kliem fashioned of gold, nnd wreathed
willi the iira('iis snakes, was set upon her head; in her
hand was t'le crystal cross of Life, and between h(jr
mantle's ])u>ple folds gleamed the eyes of hci snake
ginlle. Shi' sat awldle in silence speaking no word,

dead

and all 'lie women wondored at her glory and at Ak'Xk
Pharaoh's awfulness. Then at length sl>e spok<!, I(»w
indeed, bur- so chiarly that every word reached liie
limits of the Tenjj)le hall.

'Women of Tarns, hear me, the Queen. Let eacli
search the face of each, and if thei'e Itr any man among
your mult tude, let him bo dragge.l forth and torn limb
from limb, for in this matter n<> man may liear our
counsels, lest following his madness he biitray them.'

Now every woman looked njion her iieighboui-, and
she who was next to Uei looked haid uy^on hin) so that
he trembled lor his life. But hv er(»uched into the
shadow and stared back on her boldly as though he
doubted if she were indeed a w^man, an-l she said no
word. Whon all ha<l looked, and no man had been
f und, Meriamnn spoke again.

'Hearken, women of Tanis. hearken to your sister
and your Queen. Woe upon vvw^ is fallei. on the head
of Khem. Plague upon plague hatfi smitten the ancient
land. Our Hrst-born are dead, our slaves have spoiled
us and fled aw^ay, our' hosts have been swalloNs^ed ir) the
Sea of WcHids, and barbarians swarm along our shorea
like locusts. Is it not so, women of Tanis \*

276

THE WORLD'S DESIRE,

* It is so, O Queen,' tlicy answered, as with one voicA.
*A sluiii^e evil liiitii fallen on tlie head of Khem.

A Inl.sc (Jwildess is (toiae to dwell within the land ;
her Horceiies are great in the land. Month by nionth
nii'ii l;o up to look upon her deadly beauty, and month
bv month thev are sl.iin of her sorceries. Slie takes
the liu.:band from his marriaj^^e bed ; she draws the
lover tVom her wlio waits to be a bride ; the slave Hi'
to lior iroin the household of his lord , the priests flock
tc lier troin ilie altars of the (iods — ay, tho VTy priests
of Isis tiocV fursw.'iii from the altars of Isis. All look
upon her witch-b' auty, ;ind to eav'li she shows an
altered loveliness, and to all she nives one guerdon —
Death ! Is it rK^t so, wonn-n of Tanis \ '

' Alas ! alas ! it is so, Queen,' answered the women,
aa with one voice.

* Woes are fallen on you and Khem, my sisters, but
on me most of all arc woes fallen. My }>eople have
been slain, my land — the land I. love — has been laid
waste with plagues; my child, the only one, is dead in
the great death; hands have been laid on me, the
Queen of Khem. Think on it, ye who are women !
My slaves are Hed, my armies have been swallowed in
the sea ; and last. mv sisters, mv consort, mv beloved
lord, mighty Pharaoh, son of great Rameses Miamun,
hat 1 1 been taken from me ' Look ! look ! ye who are
wives, look on him who was your King and my most
beloved lord. There he sits, and all my tears and all
my prayers may not sumuion one single answering siiL^h
from tliat istilled heart The curse hath fallen on liini
aJjFip, |i^ t^jo hath binni smitten silentlv with everlast-

THE VOICE OF THE DEAD.

277

lug silence. Look ! look ! yr wlio arc wives, ami w(n>|)

itl

Willi lilt;.

y«

wlio ,iie left wi()o\ved.

Now till' wonit'ii Inoki'il, iiiid a ^•|'eat. groan went up
Irom all that MiultituiK.', wiiile Mi'iianum liid Iut fac»^
with the lioUow^ ot her hand. Tln'ii ;igain she spoki'.

' I havf be.'^'iughi Uk- Uod: , my sisters; I havo dared
to call d(jwn til*' iiiajusty of the (iods, who speak th!nai;!i
the lips of the doa I, and I ha\i.' lejirnt wdienet; thej-e
woes (!Oine, And this T have won liy my prayers, thut
ye who suffei as 1 suffer .-hall learn whence they couie,
not from my mortal lips, indeed, hiit from the lips of tlie
dead that speak with the v<tic<; ot the (ioils.'

Then, wiiiK' the women ireinbled, she turned to the
hcdy oi' Phaiaoh. which was set apou the knees ol
Dsins, and sp»)ke to it.

' D'Mid Pharaoh ! great Osirian ruling in tlie UniU'r-
world, hearken to me now '. Ifearken to me now, thou
Osiris, Lord of the VVesi, first of the liosts of Death.
Hearken to me, Osiris, and be manifest through the lips
of him who was great on earth. Speak through his
cold lips, speak with mortal accents, that these yieople
may hear and un<lerstand. By the spirit that is in ine,
who am yet a dweller on the earth, I charge thee speak.
Who is the source of tht; woes of Khem '( Say, Lord (.>f
the dead, who are the living evermore.'

Now the llanie on the altar died away, and dreadful
.^ilencefell upon the Temple, gloom fell upon the Shrine,
and through the gloom the golden (jrown of Meriamun,
and the cold statue of the Osiri.s, and the white face of
dead Meneptiili gleamed faint and ghost -like.

Th'Mi siiddenlv the tlaiiLO of tlie altaf Haied as flares

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278

THE WORLiyS DESIRE.

the summer lightning. It Hared full on the face of the
dead, and lo ! the lips of the dead moved, and from
them caint.! the sound of mortal speech. They spake
in awful accents, and thus they spoke :
• * ^he, who wiu the cv/rse, of Arha'ins, she icho was thi
doom of Ilios ; she who sitn ijl the Temple of Hathor, the
Fate of Man, who may not he harmed of Man, she ealls
down the vjrath of the Gods on Khem. It v> spoken ! '

The echo of the awful words died away in the silence.
Then fear took hold of the midtitude ofvvonien because
of the words of the Dead, ai]d 8(;me fell upon their
faces, and some covered their eyes with their hands.

* Arise, my sisters ! ' cried the voice of Meriamun.
'Ye have heard not from my lips, but f.om the lips of
the dead. Arise, and let us forth to the Temple s>{
the Hathor. Ye have heard wh(.) is the fountain of our
woes; let uj? forth and seal it at its source for ever. Of
men siie may not be harmed who is the fate of men,
from men we ask no help, for all men are her slaves,
and for her beauty's sake all men forsake us. Bui we
will play the part of men. Our woman's milk shall
freeze within our breasts, we will dip our tender hands
in blood, ay, scourged by a thousand wrongs we will
foi'get our gentleness, and tear this foul fairness from
its home. We will burn the Hathor's Shrine with
tire, her priests shall perish at the altar, and the beauty
of the false Goddess shall melt like wax in the furnace
of our hate. Say, will ye follow me, my .sisters, and
wreak our shames upon the Shameful One, our woes
upon the Spring of Woe, our dead upon their
imiidtiess ? '

THE VOICE OF THE DEAD. 279

She ceased, and then from every woman's throat
within the great Temple there went up a cry of rage,
fierce and shrill.

' We will, Meriamun, we will !' they screamed. *To
the Hathor ! Lead ns to the Hathor s Shrine ! Bring
lire 1 Bring (ire ! Lead us to the Hathor's Shrine !'

CHATTER VI.

THE BIJUNING OF THE SHRINE. ■

Hei the Priest saw and heard, Then turning, he
stole away tLrou<^h the inaddeiitd thiuiig ol women and
Hcd with wdiat speed he might from the Teiaiile. His
lieart was iiWed with fear and sliame, for he knew full
well that Pharaoh was dead, not at t lie hand of Hathor,
but at the hand of Meriamun the Queen, whom he had
loved. He knew well that tlead Mene})tah spake not
with the voice of the dread (jlods, but witli the voice of
the magic of Meriamun, who, of ail women that have
been since the days of Taia, was the most skilled in
evil maoic, the lore of tin Snake. He knew also that
Meriamun wctuld slay Helen for the same cause where-
fore she had slain Pharaoh, that she might win the
Wanderer to her arms. While Helen lived he was not
to be won away.

Now Rei was a righteous man, loviuij (he Gods and
good, and hating evil, and his heart burned because of
the wickedness of the woman that once he cherished.
This he swore that he would do, if time was left to
him. He would warn the Helen so that she might fly
the fire if so she willed, ,ty, and would tell her all the
wickedness of Meriamun her foe.

THE BURNING OJ' Till: SHRINE.

281

His oM feet stuii)bl(Ml over Oiicli other a> lie tied till
he came to the gates of the Temple of \\w Vlatuoi, and

:iior

ked

upon

the irates.

' What wouldst thou, old crone ? ' asked the priest
who sat in the gates.

' I woiiM be led to the presence of the Hathor,' he
answered.

'No woman hath pa'^sed up to li)t>k upon the
Hnthor,' said the priest. 'That women do not seek.'

Thrn Kei made a secret sign, and wondering greatly
that a woman should have the inner wisdom, the priest
let him pass.

He came to the second tjates.

' What wouldst thou ? ' said the priest who sat in the
gates.

' I would go up into the [iresence of the Halhor*

* No Wiiman hath willed to look upon tlie Hathor,*
said the priest.

Then again Rei made tlie secret sign, but still the
priest wavered.

'Let me pass, thou foolish warden,' said Rei. ' I am a
messenger from the Gotis,'

'If thou art a mortal messenger, woman, thou goest
to thy doom,' said the priest.

'On my head be it,' answered Rei, and the priest let
him pitss wondering.

Now he stood before the doors of the Alabaster
Shrine that glowed with the light within. Still Rei
paused not, only uttering a prayer that he might be
saved from the unseen swords; he lifted the latch ol
bronze, and entered fearfully. Bnt none fell upon him,

282

THE ivo/a.jys desire.

nor was ho ^mittt-.n of invisibl(3 sptiirs, Bef re him
swuiif^^ the curtains of Tyrian web, but no sound of
singing carno from beliind the curtains. All was
silence in the Shrine. He passed between the curtains
and loolied up the Sanctuary. It was lit witli many
hanging lamps, and by tlieir light he saw ihe Goddess
Helen, seated between the pillars of her k)oiu. But
she wove no more at the loom. The web of fate was
rent by the Wanderer's hands, and lay on either side, a
shininf'^ cloth of gold. The Goddess Helen sat sonrdess
in her lonely Shrine, and on her breast gleamed the Red
Star of light that wept the blood of men. Her head
rested on her hand, and her heavenly eyes of blue
gazed emptily down the empty Shrine.

Rei drew near trembling, though she seemed to see
him not at all, and at last flung himself upon the earth
before her. Now at length she saw him, and spoke in
her voice of music.

* Who art thou that dares to break in upon my
sorrow?' she said wonderingly. 'Art thou indeed a
woman come to look on one who by the will of the
Gods is each woman's deadliest foe?'

Then Rei raised himself, saying :

' No woman am I, immortal Lady. I am Rei, tliat
aged priest who met thee two nights gone by the
pylon gates, and led thee to the Palace of Phnraoh.
And I have dared to seek thy Shrine to tell thee
that thou art in danger at tlie hands of Meriamun
the Queen, and also to give thee a certain message
with which I am charged by him who is aamed the
Wandcjrer/

TIfE JiURN/XG OF THE S/Z/^/y^:. 283

Now Helen lo(»ktd upon him wonderintjlv and
<?poke :

'Didst thou not but now name me immoTtnl, Rei ?
}[()W then can I be in (hinger, who am immortal, and
not ;,() be harmed of men ? Death hath no p;irt in me.
Spc \k not to me of dangers, who, alas ! can never die
till everything is done ; but tell me of thai faithless
Wanderer, whom I must h)ve with all the \N(jmanh'jod
that shuts my s| irit in, and all my spirit that is clothed
in womanhood. For, Ilei, the Gods, withholding,' Death,
liave in their wrath cursed me with love to torment ray
Jeathlessness. Oh, when 1 saw him standing where
now thou standest, ray soul knew its other part, and I
learned tiuit the curse 1 give to others had fallen on
myself and him.'

'Yet was this Wanderer not altt)gether fixithless to
thee, Lady,' said Rei. ' Listen, an<.) I will tell thee all.'

* Speak on,' she said. ' Oh, speak, and speak swiftly.'

Then Rei told Helen all that tale whicli the
Wanderer had chari;ed him to deliver in lu^r oar, and
ke( p no word back. He told her how Merianum hnd
oeguiled Epeni :» in her shape; how he had fallen
in tlie snare and sworn by the >Snake, he who should
have sworn by the Star. He told her how the Wan-
derer had learned the truth, and learning it, had cursed
the witch who wronged him ; how he had bien over-
come by the guards and borne to the bed of torment;
how he liad been freed by the craft of Merinmun; and
how he had goue forth to lead the host of Rhem. All
thi' he told her swiftly, hiding nanght, while she
hstened with ea<fer ears.

284

rifE IVOR/jyS DESIRE.

'Truly,' sli.' sjii<l when all w.is tol«l, ' truly thou nrt a
happy incs.^eugor. Now I forgive hitn ill. Yet has he
sworn by the Snake who should iiavo sworn by the
Star, and because of his laiilt never in this space ol
life shall Helen call him Lord. Yet will we follow him,
Rei. Hark ! what is that ? Again it comes, that long
shrill cry as of ghosts broke loose from Hades.'

'It is the Queen,' quoth Rei ; ' the Queen who with
all the women of Tan is contes hither to bum thee
in thy Slirine. She hath slain Pharaoh, and now she
would s'ay ihee also, and so win the Wanderer to her
arms. Bly, Lady ! Fly ! '

' Nay, I fly not,' said Helen ' Let her come. But
do thou, Rei, pass thnnigli the Temple gates and
mingle with the crowd. There thou sliait await my
coming, and when 1 come, draw near, fearing nothing;
and togethei w,; will pass down the path of the Wan-
derer in such fashion as I shall sViow thee. Go! go
swiftly, and bid those who minister to rne pass out with
thee.'

Then Rei turned and fled. Without the <loors of the
Shrine many priests were i^atliered.

'Fly ! the women of Tanis are upon you !' he cried.
' I charge ye to fly ! '

'This old crone is mad,' quoth one. 'We •.atth
the Hathor, and, come all the women of the world, we
fly not.'

* Ye are mad indeed/ said Rei, and sped on.

He passed the gates, the gates clashed behind him.
He won the outer space, and hiding in the shadows of
the Temple walls, looked for*;h. The night wa^ dark, but

lie

ni.

THE BURNING 01 THE SHRINE, ^85

from every side a thousand li<;lits poiired down touanls
tlie Shrine. On they oamt; likt lanterns on tlie waters
of Sihor at the night ol the feast of lanterns. Now he
eoidd see their liost. It '.vas the host of the women o\
Tail is, and every woman bore a lighted torch. They
cume by tens, by hundreds, aud by thousands, and before
tliem was Meriamun, seated in a yol len chariot, and
witli them • ere a^ses, oxen, and camels, laden with
bitumen, wood, and reeds. Now they gained the gates,
and now they craslied them in with battering trees of
palm. The gates fell, the women poured through
them. At their head Aven: Meriamun the Queeu.
Bidding certain of them stay by her chariot she passed
through, and st udinu at the inner gates called aloud
to the priests to throw them wide.

* Who art thou who darest come up with fire against
the holy Temple of the Hatlior?' asked the guardian
of the gates.

' I am Moriaiiiun, the Queen t)f Khv.m^,' she answered,

* come with tlu' women of Tani.s to slay the Witch
thou guardest. Throw the gates wide, or die with the
Witch.'

* If indeed thou art the Queen,' answered the priest,
'hei-o there sits a greater Queen than thou. Go back !
G<» back, Meriamun, who art not afraid to oifer violence
to the immortal Gods. Go back I lest the curse smite
thee.'

'Draw on! draw on! ye women,' cried Meriamun;

* draw on, smite down the gates, and tear these wicked
ones limb from limb.'

Then the women screamed aloud and battered on the

.t86 THE WORLDS PEStRE.

g.'itt'S with t.roos, so that tlicy fell. They t"<,'ll luid the
women rushod in iinully. Tli»<y aei/('<l tlie pciosts of
Hiitlior ami toro them Hmb I'rom limb as tlo^H tear a
wolf. Now the Shrino stood before them.

' Touch not the doors*,' cried Meriamun. ' Bring lire
and burn tht; Shrine with ler wh(j dwolls therein.
Touch not the doors, look .lot in the Witch's face, but
burn her wlnue she is with tire.'

Then tJu' woojon bro\i;4ht tbe reeda and the wood,

and piled them around tli»- Shrine to twice the bcii^lit

of a man. They ])rou!nht ladders also, anil piled the

fuel U[)on the roof of the Shrine till all was covered.

And they poured pitch over the fuel, and then at the

word of Meriamuu they cast torches on the pitch and

drew back screamiri'4- For a moment the torches

smouldered, then auddeidy on every side great tongues

of flame leapt up to heaven. Now the Shrine wa.s

wrap]»ed in fire, and yet they cast fuel on it till none

might draw near because of the heat. Now it burned

as a I'urnace burns, and now the fire reached the fuel on

the roof. It caught, and the Shrine Avas but a sheet of

raging tlame that lit the white-vvalJed city, and the

broad face of the waters, as the sun lights the lands.

Tlie alabaster walls of the Shrine turned whiter yet

with heat : they cracked and split till the fabric

tottered to its fsxll.

* Now there is surely an end of the Witch,* cried
Meriamun, ard the women screamed an answer to
her. ,

But even as they screamed a gn;at tongue of flame
shot out tlrough the inolt(;n dt>ors, ten fathoms length

THE BURNING OF THE SHKINE,

287

and inoiv, it shot like h sju'Mr of fire. F\iII in its path
stood a group of the burnt rs. It struck theoj, ii licked
them up, and lo ! tliey fell in hlaekened heaps upon the
ground.

Rei looked down the path of the flame. Tliere, in
the doorway whence it had i.ssuod, stood the Golden
Helen, wrapped round with tire, and the molten nietal
of the doors crept about her feet. There she stood in
the heart of the fire, but there was no stain of fire on
her, nor on her white robes, nor on her streaming hair ;
and even th'-ough the glow of the furnace he saw the
light of the Red Stnr at her breast. The flame licked
her form and face, it wrapped itj"jlf around her, and
curled throunh the masses of hei hair. But still she
stood unharmed, while the burn(;rs shrank back amazed,
all save . leriamun '"'•.o Queen. And as she stood she
sang wild and sweet, and the sound of her singing came
through the roar of the flames and reached the ears of the
women, who, forgettin^j their rage, clung to one another
in fear. Thus she sang — of thtt Beauty which men
.-eek in all women, and never find, and of the eternal
uar lor her sake between the women and the men,
which is the great war of the world. And thus
her song ended : *

'Will ye bring flame to hum my Sln-ine

Who tun myself a flame,
Bring death lo tame this cliarm of mine

That (leatli can nevur tame ?
Will ye bring fire to harm my head

Who am myself a fire.
Bring vengeance; fur your Lovers dead

Uj)ou the Wurbl's x->esire \

i88

ri{E WORLD'S DESIRE.

Nay, women while the earth endures,

Your Invea urn not your own.
They love you not, these loves of youn,

ffelen they love alotie !
M;' fiice they seek in every face,

Mine eyes in your« they see,
They do but kneel to you a space,

And ribe and lullow me !^

Then, still singing, she siepp-d forward from the
Shrine, and as she wont the walls tell in, and the roof
crashed down upon the ruin and tltf Haines shot into the
very sky. Helen heeded it not. Sue looked not back,
but out to the gatcjs beyond. She glanced not at the
fierce blackened faces of the women, nor on the face of
Merianmn, who stood before her, but slowly passed
towards the gates. Nor did she go alone, for with her
came a canopy of fire, hedging her round with flame
that burned from nothing. The women saw the
wonder and fell down in their fear, covering th^jr eyes.
Meriamun alone fell not, but she too must cover her
eyes because of the glory of Helen antl tlie fierceness of
the flame that wrapped her round.

Now Helen ceased singing, but moved slowly through
the courts till she came to the outer gates. Here by
the gates was the chariot of Meriamun. Then Helen
called aloud, and the* Queen, who followed, heard her
words :

' Rei,' she cried, 'draw nigh aud have no fear. Draw
nigh that I may pass with thee down that path the
Wanderer treads. Draw ni.;h, and let us swiftly hence
for the hero's last battle is at hand, aud I would iireet
him ere he die/

THK BURNING OF THE SHRINE, 289

Rei heard her arul drew near trembhng, tearing from
him the womm's wee. Is ho wore, au«i sliowing the
priest's garb beneath. And as he cauui the fire that
wrapped her glory round left her, and pjusscd upward
like a cloak of flame. She stretched out her hand to
him, .saying :

' Lead me to yonder chariot, Rt-i, and let us hence.*
Then he led her to the eiuiriot, while those who stood
by fled in fear. She mounted the charii)t, and he
set hinjselt beside her. Then he grasped the reins
and called to the horses, and they hounded forward
and were lost in the night.

But Merianiun cried in her wrath :
' The Witch is gone, gone with my own servant wfiom
slie hath led astray. Bring chariots, and let horsemen
come with the chariots, for where she passes there I will
follow, ay, to the end of the world and the coast of
Death.'

C FT APT KM Vn.

THK LAST FIGHT OF ODYSSEUS, LAEiiTKS' SON.

Now \}\r. host of Pliai'.'ioh marched forth froiu On, to
do battle ^vith tlie Nine-bow barb;irian,s. And before
tbt' host niarcliod, the Captains came to tlie Wanderer,
according:: to the uonnnatid of Pharaoh, and placing their
hands in his, swore to do his bidding on the marcli and
in tlie battle. They biought him the gjeat black bow
of ^^urytns, and his keen sword of bronze, Euryalus' gift,
find many a sheaf of arrow;*, and his heart rejoiced when
he saw the goodly weapons. He took the bow and
tried it, and as he (Irew the string, once again and for
the last time it sang shrilly oi death to be. The
Cantains heard the Song of the P.ow, though what it
said the Wanderer knew alone, for to their ears it canio
but as a faint, keen cry, like the cry of one who drowns
in the water far from the kindly earth. But they mar-
velled nmch at the wondoi', and said one to another
that this man was no mortal, but a Ood come from the
Under-world. •

Tlien the Wanderer mounted the chariot of bronze
that had been made ready for him, and gave the word
to inarch.

THE LAST FJGIIT OF Ol^YSSFA'S. 291

All night the liost marclied swiftly, and at riay-
break tliey caiijped beneath tlio siielter of" a long, low
hill. Bui at the sunrise tlie Wanibjrer left the h(jst,
climbed the hill with certain of the Captains, and looked
forth. Before hini was a great pass in the mountains,
ten furlongs or more in length, and thnjugh it ran the
road. The sides oi' the mountain sloped down ti> the
road, and were strewn witli rocks split by the sun,
polished by the sainl, and covered over with bush tliat
grew sparsely, like the hair on the Innba of a man. To
the left of the mountains lav the river Sihor, but none
might pass between the mountain and the river. The
Wanderer descendei'i from the hill, and while the soldier.*?
ate, drove swiftly in his chariot to the furtlier end of
the pass and lookevl forth again, \\yiVQ the river curved
to the left, leaving a wide plain, and on the pl.iin ho
saw the host of the Nine-bow barbarians, the miy^htiest
host that ever his eyes had ..>okeil upon. They were
encamped by nations, and of each nation there were
twenty thousan<i men, and bey^^nd t.he glntering camp
<if the barbarians ho saw the curved ships of tiie
Acha^ans. They were drawn uj* on the b<3ach oi the
great river, as mnny a year ago he had seen them drawn
up on the sliore that is by llios. lie looked up)n plain
and y)ass, on mountjun and river, and n)oasured the
uMi.ibor of the foe. Tlien his heart was filled with
lilt; lust, of battle, and his warlike cunning awoke. For
of all leaders of men he was the most skilled in the
craft of battle^ and he desired that ihi.s, his last war,
.should be the greatest war ol' all.

Turning liis horses' heads, he galloped back to the

2()Z

THE WORLDS DESIRE.

host of Pharaoh and mustered tliem in battle array. It
was but a little number as against the number of the
barbarians — twelve thousand spearmen, nine thousand
archers, two thousand horsemen, and three hundred
chariots. The Wanderer passed up and down their
ranks, bidding them be of good courage, for this day
they should sweep the barbarians from the land.

As he spoke a hawk Hew down from the right, and
fell on a heron, and slew it in mid-air. The host
shouted, for the hawk is the Holy Bird of Ra, and the
Wanderer, too, rejoiced in the omen. ' Look, men,' \w
cried; 'the Bird of Ra has slam the wandering tide!
from the waters. And so shall ye smite the spoilers
from the sea.'

Then he held ..counsel with ("Captains, and certain
trusty men were sent out to the camp of the barbarians.
And they were charged to give an ill report of the host
of Pharaoh, and to say that such of it as remained
awaited the barbaiian onset behind the shelter of the
hill on the further side of the pass.

Then the Wanderer summoned the Captains of the
archers, and bade them hide all their force among the
locks and thorns on eiilier sile of the mountain pn'^s,
and there to wait till he drew the hosts of tlie foe into
the pass. And with the archers he sent a part of the
spearmen, but the chariots he hid beneath the shelter
of the hill on the hitlur side of the pass.

Now, when the ambusli wa-? set, and all were gone
save the liorsemen only, his spies came in and told him
that the host of the barharians marched from their
camp, but that the A lueans marched not, but stopped

THE LAST FIGHT OF ODYSSEUS. 293

by the river to guard the camp and ships Theu the
Wanderer bade the horsemen ride though the pass and
stand in the phiin beyond, and there await the foe.
But when the hosts of tht; barbarians charged them,
they must reel before the charge, and at lenu'th fly
headlwng down the pass as though in fear. And he
himself would lead the flight in his chariot, and where
he led there they should follow.

80 the horsemen rode through the pass and formed
their squadrons on the plain beyond. Now the foe
drew nigh, and a glorious sight it was to see the mid-
day suu sparkling on their countless spears. Of horse-
men they had no great number, but there were many
chariots and swordsmen, and spearmen, and slingers
beyond count. They came on by nations, and in the
centre of tlie host of each nation sat the king of the
nation in a glorious chariot, with girls and eunuchs,
holding faiAS to fan him with and awnings of silk to
hide him from tlie sun.

Now the Wanderer hung back behind the squadrons
of horsemen as though in fear. But presently he sent
messengers bidding the Captains of the squadrons to
charge the first nation, and fight for a while but feebly,
and then when they saw him turn his horses and gallop
through the pass, to follow after hirn as though in
doubt, but in such fashion as to draw the foe upon
their heels.

This the Captains of the mercenaries did. Once
they charged and were beaten back, then they charged
again, but the men made as though they feared the
onset. Now the foe came hard after them, and the

2 94

THE WORJjyS DF.SJNIL

Wanderer turned his cliariot and Hed tlirougli the pass,
followed slowly by tlic horsemen. And \vhei» the host<j
of the barbarians saw theni turn, they set up a mighty
shout of laughter that rent 'he skits, and charged aftei
them.

But the Wanderer looked back and laughed also.
Now he was through the pass followed by the horse-
men, and after them swept the hosts of the barbarians.
lik(i a river that has burst its banks. Still the Wan-
derer held liis hand till the whole pass was ohokeci with
the thousands of tlie foe, ay. until the half of the first
of the nations had passeni into the nai'iow plain thnt
lay between the hill and the muuth of the pass. Then,
diiving apace up the hill, he stood in his chaiiot and
gave the signal. Lifting his goldtm shield on high he
flashed it thrice, and ail the horsemen shouted aloud.
At the first flash behold, from behind every rock and
bush of the mountain sides arose the helms of armed
men. A^ the second flash thei'e came a rattling sound
of shaken quivers, and at the third flash uf the golden
shield, the air was darkened with the flight of arrows.
As the sea-birds on a lonely isle awake at the cry oi
the sailor, and wheel by thousands from their lofty cliffs,
so at the third flash of tlie Wanderer's shield the arrows
of his hidden host rushed downward on the foe, rattling
like hail upon their harness. For awhile they kept
their ranks, and pressed on over the bodies of those
that fell. But soon the horses in the chariots, maddened
with wounds, plunged this way and that, breaking their
com[)anies and trampling the soldiers down. Now some
strove to fly forwar*!, and some were fain ,..o fly back,

THE LAST FIGHT OF ODYSSEUS. 295

and many an empty chariot was dragged tliis way and
tiiat, but ever the pitiless rain of sliaKs poured dowu,
and men fell by thousands beneath the gale of death.
Now the mighty host of the Nine-bows rolled back,
tliinned and shattered, towards the plain, and nt>w the
Wanderer cried the wor<l of onset to the horsemen and
to the chariots that drew from behind the shelter of the
hill, and followinjij after him they charged down upon
tiiose barbarians who had passod the ambush, singing
the song of Pentaur as they charged. Among those
nigh the mouth of the pass was the king of the nation
of the Libu, a gp'iat man, black and terril)le to see.
The Wanderer drew his bow, the arrow ruslied forth
and pierced the king, and he fell deail in his chariot.
Then tliose of his host wlio had passed the ambush
turned to fly, but tlie chariot of the Wanderer dashed
into them, and after the chariot came the horsemen,
and after the lu)rsemon the chariots of Pharaoli.

Now all who were left of the broken host rolled back,
mad witli fear, while the spearmen of Pharaoh galled
them as hunters gall a flying bull, and the horsemen
of Pharaoli trampled them beneath their feei. lied
slaughter raged all down the pass, helms, banners,
arrow-points shone and f<'ll in the stre;ira of the tide
of war, but at length the stony way was clear save for
the dead alone. Beyond the pass the plain was black
with flying men, and the fragments of the broken
nations were mixed together as clay and sand are
mixed of the potter. Where now were the hosts of
the Nine -bow barbarians? Wliere now were their
glory and their pride ? '

296

THE WORLD'S DESJRF.

The Wand< rer gathered his footmen and his chariots
and set them in array again, l)at the horsemen he sent
out to smite the flying nations and wait his coming by
the camp ; for tliere were mustering those who were
left of the nations, perchance twenty thousand men,
and before tlieir ships were ranged the dense ranks ot
the Achaenns, shield to shield, ev^ery rnan in his place.

The Wanderer led his host slowly across the sa.ndy
plain, till at length he halted it two bow-shots from the
camp of the barbarians. The camp was shaped like a
bow, f»nd the river bib or formed its string, and round
it was a deep ditch, and beyond the ditch a wall of clay.
Moreover, within the camp and nearer to the shore
there was a second ditch and wall, and behind it were
the beaks of the ships and the host of Aquaiusha, even
of his own dear people the Acha^ans. There were the
old blazons, and the spears that had fought below Troy
town. There were the two lions of Mycenaj, the Cen-
taur of the son of Polypaetas, son of Pirithous ; there
were the Swan of Lacedsemon, and the Bull of the
Kings of Crete, the Rose of Rhodes, the Serpent ofl
Athens, and many another knightly bearing of old'
friends and kindred dear. And now they were the
blazons of foemen, and the Wanderer warred for a
strange king, and for his own hand, beneath the wings
of the Hawk of the Legion of Ra.

The Wanderer sent heralds forward, calling to those
barbarians who swarmed behind the wall to surrender
to the host of Pharaoh, but this, being entrenched by
the river Sihor, they would in nowise do. For they
were mad because of their slauglitered thousands, and

THE LA^I J^JGHT OF ODYSSt.US. 297

moreover they knew that it is better to die than to live
as slaves. This they saw also, that their host was still
as strong as the host of Pharaoh, which was without the
wall, and weary with the heat and stress of battle and
the toil of marching through the desert sands. Now
the riaptains of the host of Pharaoh came to the
Wanderer, praying him that he would do no more battle
on that day, because the men were weary, and the
horses neighed for food and water.

But he answered them : ' I swore to Pharaoh that
I would utterly smite the people of the Nine-bows and
drive them down to death, so that the coasts of Khem
may be free of them. Here I may not camp the host,
without food or pasture for the horses, and if I go back,
the foe will gather heart and come on, and with them
the fleet of the Achaeans, and no more shall we lure
them into ambush, for therein they have learne<i a
lesson. Nay, get you to your companies. I will go up
a'j^ainst the camp.'

Then they bowed and went, for having seen his deeds
and his skill and craft in war, they held him the first of
Captains, and dared not say him nay.

So the Wanderer divided his host into three parts,
set it in order of battle, and moved up against the
camp. But he himself went with the centre part
against the gate of the camp, for here there was an
earthen way for chariots, if but the great gates might
be passed. And at a word the threefold host rushed on
to the charge. But those within the walls shot them
with spears and arrows, so that many were slain, and
they were loUed back from the wall as a wave is rolled

298

THE WORLDS DESIRE,

from the cliff. Again thf Wandorcr bade them clmrLie
on the riglit and loft, bearinj^r the diiad before tlieni as
shields, and hurling corpses into the ditch to fill it.
But he himself hung back awhile with the middle army,
watching how the battle went, and waiting till the foe
at tbe gate should be drawn away.

Now the mercenaries of Pharaoh forced a passage on
the right, and thither went many of the barbarians who
watcbed the gate, that they might drive them back.

Then the Wanderer batle men take out the poles of
chariots and follow him and beat down the gates with
the poles. This with much toil and loss they did, for
the archers poured their arrows on the assailants of the
gate. Now at length the gates were down, and the
Wanderer rushed through them with his chariot. But
even as be passed the mercenaries of Pharaob wore
driven out from the camp on the right, and those who
led the left attack fled also. The soldiers who siiould
have followed the Wanderer saw and wavered i little
moment, and while they v/avered the companies of the
barbarians poured into the gateway and held it so that
none n)ight pass. Now the Wanderer was left alone
within the camp, and back he might not go. But fear
came not nigh him, nay, the joy of battle filled his
mighty heart. He cast his shield upon the brazen floor
of the chariot, and cried aloud to the charioteer, as he
loosened the long gray shafts in his quiver.

* Drive on, thou charioteer ! Drive on ! The jackals
leave the lion in the toils. Drive on ! Drive on ! and
win a glorious death, for thus should Odysseus die.'

So the charioteer, |)raving to his Gods, lashed the

THE LAST I'fGIfT OF OVYSS/U'S. J99

horses viith Fiis scourge, art' I they sprang forward matlly
among the foe. And as they rusVied, tlie great bow
rung and sang the swallow string — rung tlie bow and
sr.ng the string, and the lean shaft drard< the blood of a
leader of men. Again the string sang, again the shaft
s|Kid forth, and a barbarian king f(dl from his chariot
as a diver pi'nges into the sea, and his teeth bit the
sand.

'Dive deep, thou sea-thief!' cried the Wanderer,
'thou mayest find treasiiros there! Drive un, thou
charioteer, so should lions die while jackals watch.'

Now the barharians looked on tlie Wanderer and
were amazed. For ever his chariot rushed to and fro,
across the musteiing ground of the camp, and ever his
gray shafts eariied death before them, and ever the
foemen's arrows fell blunted from his golden harness.
They looked on him amazed, they cried aloud that this
was the God of War come down to do battle for Khem,
that it was Sutel; the Splendid, that it was Ba.ul in his
strength ; they fled amain before his glory and his
might. For the Wanderer raged among theim like
great Jlameses Miamun among the tribes of the Khita;
like Monthn, tie Lord of Battles, and lo ! they fled
before him, their knees gave '.vay, their hearts were
Turned to water, he drove them as a herdsman drives
the yearling calves.

But now at length a stone from a sling smote the
charioteer who <!irected the chariot, and sunk in be-
tween his eyes, so that he fell down dead from the
cliariot. Then the reins liew wide, and the horses
rushed tliis way and tliat, having no master. And now

30O

THE WORLD'S DESIRE.

n H[)eMr pierced tl»e heart of the horse on the right, so

:,hat he fell, and lli

)le of the chariot

siiappet

two. Then the barbari;ins tut)k lieart and turned, and
8ome of them set on to seize tlie body of the charioteer,
and spoil his arms. But tlie Wanderer leaped down
and bestrode the corpse with shield up and spear alijft

Now among the press of the barljarians there was a
stir, tis of one thrusting his way through them to the
front. And above the plumes of their helmets and
the tossing of their shields the Wanderer saw the
golden head, unhelmeted, of a man, taller than the
tallest there from the shoulders upwards. Unhelmeted
he came and unshielded, with no body armour. His
lies! I was verv fair and white, and on it were figures
pricked in blue, figures of njen and horses, snakes and
sea-beasts. The skin of a white bear was buckled
above his shoulder with a golden clasp, fashioned in the
semblance of a boar. His eyes were blue, fierce and
shining, and in his hand he held for a weapon the trunk
of a young |)ine-tree, in which was halted a weighty
axe- head of rough unpolished stone.

' Give way ! ' he cried. ' Give place, ye dusky dwarfs,
and let a man see this champion ! '

So the barbarians made a circle about the Wanderer
and the giant, and stood silently to w^atch a great fight.

' Who art thou ? ' said the mighty man disdainfully,
' and whence ? Where is thy city, and thy parents
who begat thee ? '

' Now I v/ill avow that men cail me Odvsseus, Sacker
of Cities, Laertes' son, a Prince of the Achaeans,' said
the Wanderer. ' And v^rho art thou, I pray thee, and

THE LAST TIGHT OT ODYSSEUS. 301

where is thy native plnce, for city, I wot, thou hast
none?'

Then the miglity man, swingiriiif his givat stone axe
in a rliytlmiic motion, bet^'an to chant a rude \ix), and
this was tiie niaiiner of the singing—

' Laestrytjona men
And Cininu;rianM call us
Bi>ni of tlio liuid
Of tlie sunless winter,
Boru of the liind
Of tin' niJ?lltle8^s summer :
Cityli-SR we,

lii-ncath (lark pint- l^oiiglis,
By the sea abi<liii|,'
Sail o'er th(^ swan's hath.

Wolf iwo. \ hi '-'lit,
The S'tn ot Sit,'ny,
Son of lilt' were -wolf.
Southwards I •mailed.
Sailed with tlu' amber,

Sailed with the ioajn-wealth,

Amonj;; stmni^e people.s,

Winning im' wavi.'-llame,'

Winning me war-fame,

Winning me women.

Soon shall I -lay thee,

Sacker of Ciuts !'

"With that, and with a cry, he rushed on the Wan-
derer, his great axe swung aloft, to fell him at a blow.

But wliile the giant had been singing, the Wanderer
had shifted his place a little, so that the red hl;i/.e of
the setting sun was in his face. Ami as the mighty
man came on, the Wanderer lifted up his gohlen shield
and caught the sunlight on it, and flashed it full in the

» Gold,

302

THE WORLIfS PES IRE.

giant's eyo8, ho t.liat licf was <lazzl( "1. ruul CfHild not src
to striko. Then the Wanderer smote at Ki.-t naked rijjflit
arm, and Rtriick it on the joint <<f the elbow; witli all
his torco lie smote, and the short .sword of Kuryuliis bit
deej), and tJie arm fell, with the axe in tlie liJiiid-j^rip.
But so terrible was thf3 stroke that bronze might not
bide it, and the blade was shattered fron) the ivory

hnndlo.

' Did'st thou feel aught, thou Man-eater?* crie<|
Odysseus, jeering, for he knew from the song of the

ith

(.{(

from

giant tliat he was face to fa(;(j witti a wand
evil race, that of old had snutten his ships and devoured
his men — the Laestrygons of the land of the Midnight
Sun, the Man-eaters.

But tlic giant caught up his club of pine-tree in his
left hand, the severed right arm yet clinging to it.
And he gnawed on the handle of the ^tone axe with
his teeth, and bit the very stone, and his lips foamed,
for a fury came upon bin) Roaring aloud, stiddenly
he smote at the Wanderer's hr'ad, and beat down his
shield, and crushed his golden helm so that he fell on
onc! knee, and all was darkness around him. But his
hands lit on a great stone, for the place where they
fought was the holy place of an ancient temple, old
and ruined before King Mena's day. He grasped
the stone with both hands ; it was the basalt bead
of a fallen statue of a God or a man, of a king long
nameless, or of a forgotten God. With a mighty strain
the Wanderer lifted it as he rose, it was a weijrht
of a chariot's burden, and poising it, he linrled it
straight at the breast of the Laestrygon, who had

lit
ill

tit

P-

•y

n
(1
t

THE r.AST FIGHT OF OF\SSEVS. J03

(Irawti

bii' k, whirlinj? his wk\ Ik,'Ioiv I»«j Hinnt

ano

th(»r

blow. But tin' over

tlu' stroke !«!!. tluj liui^'e atono

fltnick hini tiill and brok*- in his breast-lK)iu\ .ind ho
stag-vrcd long, and Ifll lik<' a tivr, and the black bloiMJ
came up through his bcar.h-.l lips, and his litb left him.
Then the multitude of the barbarians that stood
gazmg at the fray drew yet fiuthc^r back in fear, : 1..I
th(! Wanderer laughed like a (led at that ol.l siu.re
paid, and at the last great btruke of the hands of I ho
C'ity-sacker, Udysseua,

CHAPTER VITI.

'TILL ODYSSEUS COMES ! '

The Wanderer laughed like a God, though he
deemed that the end was near, and the foes within the
camp and the friends without looked on him and
wondered.

*Slay him !' cried the foes within, speaking in many
tongues. * Slay him ! ' they cried, and yet they feared
the task, but circled round like hounds about a mighty
boar at bay.

' Spare him ! * shouted the host of the Achseans,
watching the fray from far, as they stood behind their
inner wall, for as yet they had not mingled in the
battle, but stajj-ed by their ships to guard them.

' Rescue him !' cried the Captains of Pharaoh without,
but none came on to force the way.

Then of a sudden, as Fate hung upon the turn, a
crreat cry of fear and wonder rose from the ranks of
Pharaoh's host beyond the wall. It swelled and swelled
till at length the cry took the sound of a name — the
sound of the name of Hathor.

'The Hathor! the Hathor! See, the Hathor
comes ! '

The WancU'rer turned his head and looked swifth .
A golden «liaiiot sped down the slope of saud towards

'TILL ODYSSEUS COMES

305

the gate of the camp. The raiik-wliite horses were
stained with sweat and splashed with blood. Tliey
thundered on towards the gate down the way that was
red with blood, as the horses of the dawn msh through
the blood-red sky. A little man, withered and old, drove
the chariot, leaning forward as he drove, and by his side
stood the Golden Helen. The Red Star blazed upon her
breast, her hair and filmy robes floated on the wind.

She looked up and forth. Now she saw him,
Odysseus of Ithaca, her love, alone, beset with foes,
and a cry broke from her. She tore away the veil
that hid her face, and her beauty flashed out upon
the sight of men as the moon flashes from the evenin^^
mists. She pointed to the gate, she stretched out her
arms towards the host of Pharaoh, bidding them look
upon her and follow her. Then a shout went up from
the host, and they rushed onwards in the path of the
chariot, for where the Helen leads there men must
follow through Life to Death, through War to Peace.
On the chario ruslied to the camp, and after it the
host of Pharaoh followed. The holders of the gate saw
the beauty of lier who rode in the chariot; they cried
aloud in many tongues that the Goddess of Love had
come to save the God of War. They fled this way
and that, or stood drunken with the sight of beauty,
and were dashed down by the horses and crushed of
the chariot-wheels. Now she had passed the gates, and
after her poured the host of Pharn )h. Now Rei reined
up the horses by the broken chariot of the Wanderer,
and now the Wanderer, with a shout of joy, had sprung
into the chariot of Helen,

3o6

THE WORLD'S DESIRE.

And art thou

to be with me in my last

come

battle?' he whispered in her ear. 'Art thou indeed
that Argive Helen whom I love, or am I drunk with
the blood of men and blind with the sheen of speaia,
and is this the vision of a man doomed to die ? '

' It is no vision, Odysseus, for I am Helen's self,' she
answered gently. ' I have learned all the truth, and
knowing thy fault, count it but a little thing. Yet
because thou didst forget the words of the immortal
Goddess, who, being my foe now and for ever, set this
cunning snare for thee, the doom is on thee, that Helen
shall not be thine in this space of life. For thou
fightest in thy last battle, Odysseus. On ! see thy
hosts clamour to be led, and there the foe hangs black
as storm and shoots out the lightning of his spears.
On, Odysseus, on ! that the doom may be accomplished,
and the word of the Ghost fulfilled ! *

Then the Wanderer turned and called to the Cap-
tains, and the Captains called to the soldiers and set
them in array, and following the bloc ^ red Star they
rolled down upon the gathered foe as the tide rolls
upon the rocks when the breath of the gale is strong ;
and as the waters leap and gather till the rocks are lost
in the surge, so the host of Pliaraoh leapt upon the toe
and swallowed them up. And ever in the forefront of
the war blazed the Red Star on Helen's breast, and ever
the sound of her singing pierced the din of death.

Now the host of the Nine-bow barbarians was utterly
destroyed, and the host of Pharaoh came up ajj^ainst
the wall that was set about the camp of the Achaeans
to guard their ships, and at its head came the golden

'TILL ODYSSEUS COAJES!*

307

chariot wlierein were the Wanderer and Htden. The
Captains of the Achaeans looked wondering from their
wall, watching the slaughter of their allies.

' Now, who is this,' cried a Captain, * who is this clad
in golden armour fashioned like our own, who leads
the host of Pharaoli to victory ? '

Then a certain aged leader of men looked forth and
answered :

* Such armour I have known indeed, and such a man
once wore it. The armour is fasliioned like the armour
of Paris, Priam's son — Paris of llios; but Paris hath
long been dead*

' And who is she,* cried the Captain, ' she on whose
breast a Red Star burns, who rides in the chariot of him
with the golden armour, whose shape is the shape of
Beauty, and who sings aloud while men go down to
death?*

Then the aged leader of men looked forth again and
answered :

' Such a one I have known, indeed ; so she was wont
to sing, and hers was such a shape of beauty, and such
a Star shone ever on her breast. Helen of llios — Armve
Helen it was who wore it — Helen, because of whose
loveliness the world grew dark with death ; but long is
Helen dead.'

Now the Wanderer glanced from his chariot and saw
the crests of the Achaeans and the devices on the shields
of men with whose fathers he had fought beneath the
walls of llios. He saw and his heart was stirred within
him, so that he wept there in the chariot

* Alas ! for the fate that is on me,' he cried, ' that I

3o8

THE WO R I. ITS DESIRE.

nmst irial:e luy last Uattle in tho service of a stranger
against nriy own po.)ple and the cliildreu of my own dear
friends.'

'Weep U(^t, Odysseus/ said Helen, ' f'T Fate drives
thee on — i ate that is cruel and changeless, and heeds
not the loves or hates of men. Weep not, Odysseus,
but go on up against tiie Achajans, fur from among them
thy death conies.'

So the Wanderer went on, sick at lieart, shooting no
shafts and striking no blow, and after liim came the
remnant of tlie host of Pharaoh. Tliun he lialted the
host, and at his bidding Uei drijve slowly down the wall
seeking a place to storm it, and as he drove they shot
at the chariot from the wall with spears and slings and
arrows. But not yet was the VV^anderer doomed. He
took no hurt, nor dhl any hurt come to Rei nor to the
horses that drew the chariot, and as for Helen, the
shafts of Death knew her and turned aside. Now vyhile
they drove thus Tlei told tlie Wanderer of the death of
Pharaoh, of the burning of the Temple of Hathor, and
of the flight of Helen. The Wanderer liea,rkened and
said but one thing, for in all this he saw the hand of
Fate.

' It is time to make an end, R( i. for soon will
Merianiun be seeking us, and inethiiiks that T have left
a trail that she can follow,' and ho nod<led at the piled-
up dead that stretched further than the eye could
reach.

Now they were come over against that spot in the
wall where stood the aged (Japtain of the Achaeans, who
had likened the armi-»ur of the Wanderer to the armour

TILL ODYSSEUS COMES!'

309

of Paris, and the beauty of her at his side to the beauty
of Argive Helen.

The Captain loosed his bow at the chariot, and lean-
ing forward watched the Hight of the shaft. It rushed
straight at Helen's breast, then of a sudden turned
aside, harming her not. And as ho marvelled slie lifted
her face and looked towards him. Then he saw and
knew her for that Helen whom he had seen wliile he
served with Cretan Llomeneus in the Argive ships,
when the leaguei was done and the smoke went up
from burning Ili<^s.

Again ht looked, and lo ! on the Wanderer's golde *
shield he saw the White Bvdl, the device of Pans, son
of Priam, as ofttimes he had seen it glitter on the walls
of Troy. Then great fear took him, and he lifted up his
hands and cried aloud :

' Fly, ye Acliajaiis ! Fly ! Back to your curved ships
and away from this accursed lan^i. For yonder in the
chariot stands Argive yrdeii, who is long dead, and
with her Paris, son of Pii an, come to wreak the woes of
Ilios on the sons of those who wasted her. Fly, ere the
curse smite you.'

Tlien a great cry of fear rose from the host pf the
AchaBans,as company called U) company that the ghosts
of Paris of Ilios and Argive Helen led the armies of
Pharaoli on to victory. A moment they gazed as fright-
ened sheep gaze upon the creejiing wolves, then turning
from the wall, they rushed headlong to their ships.

Behind them came the soldiojs of Pharaoh, storming
the walls and tearing at their flanks as wolves tear the
llying sheep. Then the Achaians turned at bay, an. I a

3IO

THE WORLD'S DESIRE.

mighty fray raged roiiiid the shi|>s, and he knees of
many were loosened. And of the ships, some were
burned and some were left upon the bank. But a
remnant of them were pushed off into the deep water,
and hung there on their oars waiting tlie end of the fray.

Now the sun was gone down, so that men coidd
scarce see to slay each other. The Wanderer stood
in his chariot on the bank, watching the battle, for he
was weary, and had little mind to swell the slaughter of
the people of his own land.

Now the last ship was pushed off, and at length the
great battle was done. But among those on the ship
was a man still young, and the goodliest and mightiest
among all the host of the Acliaeans. By his own
strength and valour he had held the Egyptians back
while his comrades ran the curved ship down the beach,
and the Wanderer, looking on him, deemed him their
hardiest warrior and most worthy of the Achseans.

He stood upon the poop of the ship, and saw the
light from the burning vessels gleam un the Wanderer's
golden helm. Then of a sudden he drew a mighty
bow and loosed an arrow charged with death.

' This gift to the Ghost of Paris from Telegonus, son
of Circe and of Odysseus, who was Paris' foe,' he cried
with a loud voice.

And as he cried it, and as the fateful words struck on
the ears of Odysseus and the ears of Helen, the shaft,
pointed by the Gods, rushed on. Ii rushed on, it smote
the Wanderer with a deadly wound where the golden
body-plate of his harness joined the taslets, and pierced
hira through. Then he knew that lii.s fate was a«. im-

TILL ODYSSEUS COMES/'

pHshed, and t''"t death came upon liim from the water,
as the ghost of Tiresias in Hades had foretold. In his
pain, for the last time of all, he let fail his shield and the
black bow of Eurytus. With one hand he clasped the
rail of the chariot and the (jther he threw about the neck
of the Golden Helen, who bent beneath his weitJtht like a
lily before the storm. Then he also cried aloud in answer :

'Oh, TelegonuB, son of Circe, what wickedness hast
thou wrought before the awful Gods that this curse
should have been laid upon thee to slay him who begat
thee ? Hearken, thou son of Circe, I am not Paris, I
am Odysseus of Ithaca, who begat thee, and thou hast
brought my death upon me from the water, as the Ghost
foretold.'

When Telegonus heard these words, and knew that
he had slain his father, the famed Odysseus, whom he
had sought the whole world through, he would have
cast himself into the river, there to drown., but those
with him held him by strength, and the stream took the
curved ship and floated it u,way. And thus for the first
and last time did the Gods give it to Telegonus to
look upon the face and hear the voice of his father,
Odysseus.

But when the Achaean s knew that it was the lost
Odysseus who had led the host of Pharaoh against the
armies of the Nine Nations, they wondered no more at
the skill of the ambush and *^he greatness of the victory
of Pharaoh.

Now the chariots of Meriamun were pursuing, and
they splashed through the blood of men in the pass, and

312

THE WORLD'S DESIRE.

rolled over the bodies of men in the plain beyond the
pass. They came to the camps and found them peopled
with dead, and lit with the lamps of the blazing ships
of the Aquaiusha. Then Meriamun cried aloud :

' Surely Pharaoh grew wise before he died, for there
is but one man on the earth who with so small a force
could have won so great a fray. He hath saved the
crown of Khem, and ^ • Osiris he shall wear it.'

Now the chariots of Meriamun had passed the camp
of the barbarians, and were come to the inner camp of
the Achoeans, and the soldiers shouted as she came
driving furiously.

The Wanderer lay dying on the ground, there by the
river-bank, and the light of ilie burning ships flametl
on his golden armour, and on the Star at Helen's bn-ast.

'Why do the soldiers shout?' he asked, lifting his
head from Helen's breast.

' They shout because Meriamun the Queen is come,'
Rei answered.

' Let her come,' said the Wanderer.

Now Meriamun sprang from her chariot and walked,
through the soldiers who made way, bowing before her
royalty, to where the Wanderer lay, and stood speech-
less looking on him.

But the Wanderer lifting his h^ad spake fainoly :

'Hail! Queen!' he said, i have accomplished
the charge that Pharaoh laid upon me. The host of
the Nine-bow barbarians is utterly destroyed, the fleet
of the Aquaiusha is burned, or fled, the land of Khem
is free from foes. Where is Pharaoli, th9.t I inay make
report to him ere I die ? '

' TILL OD VSSh. US CO. MES ! '

313

'Pliaraoli is <l«;a<l, OdyssfiiH,' hhf an.swore'l. 'Oh,
live on ! live on ! and thyst'lt tlmu shall be Pharaoh.'

'Ay, Merianiui) tlie Queen,' answeied tlie Wanderer,
'I know all. Pharaoh is dead! Thou didst slay
Pharaoh, thinking thus to win ine for thy Lord, ine, who
am won of Death. Heavily shall the blood cf Pharaoh
lie upon thee in that land whither I go, Merianiuti, and
whither thou must follow swiftly. Tliou didst slay
Pharaoh, and Helen, who throu,i,di thy guile is lost to
nie, thou wouldst have slain also, but thou ooiddst not
harm her immortality. And now T die, and this is the
end oi' all these Loves and Wars and Wanderings. My
death has come upon me from the water.'

Meriamun stood speechless, for her lieart was torn in
two, so that in her gi iof she forgot even ner rage against
Helen and Rei the Priest.

Then Helen spoke. 'Tliou diest indeed, Odysseus,
yet it is but for a little time, for thou shalt come again
and iind me waiting.'

' Ay, Odysseus,' said the Queen, ' and I also will come
again, and thou shalt love me then. Oh, now the future
opens, and 1 know^ the things that fire to be. Beneath
the Wings of Truth shall we meet again, Odysseus.'

'There sliall we meet again, Odysseus, and there
thou shalt draw the Veil of Truth,' said the Helen,

' Yea.' quoth the <lying Wanderer ; * there or other-
where shall we meet again, and there and otherwhere
love and hate shall lose !uid win, and die to arise
again. Rut not yet is the struggle ended that began
in other worlds than tliis, and sliall en-lun- till evil
is lost in good, and darkness .swallowed up in light.

TJIE WORLDS DESIRE.

Betliiiik tlicc, M(.'rlaniun, of that vision of thy bridal
uii^lit, and road its liiklle. Lo ! I will answer it with
my last breath aa the Gods liavf given me wisdom.
When we three are once more twain, then shall our sin
be purged and peace be won, and the veil be drawn
from the face of Truth. Oil, Helen, fare thee well'
I have sinned against thee, I have sworn by the Snake
who should liave sworu by the Star, and therefore I
have lost thee.'

' Thou hast but lost to find again beyond the Gaie-
ways of the West,' she answered low.

Then she bent down, and taking him in her arms,
kissed him, whispering in his ear, and the blood of \i \\\
that fell ever from the Stur upon her breast, droj> "d
like dew upon his brow, and vanished as it dropped.

And '3 she whispered of joy to be, and things .<)o
holy to be written, the face of the Wanderer gicw
bright, like the face of a God.

Then suddenly his head fell back, and he was de?d,
dead upon the heart of the World's Desire. For thus
was fulfilled the oath of Idalian A])hrodite, and thus
at the last did Odysseus lie in the arms of the Gold«n
Helen.

Now Meriamun clasped her breast, and her lips
turned white witli pain. But Helen ro^c, juitl Svanding
at tlie Wanderer's head looked on Mei ianmn, wlio stood
at his feet.

* My sister,' said Helen to the Queen ; 'see r.>w tlie
end of all. He whom we loved is losl. to ivj, and
what hast thou gained ? Nay, look not s»» fiercely on

'TILL ODYSSEUS COMES r

315

me. I may not be harmed of tlioe, as thou hast seea,
and thou mayest not be harmed of me, who would
liarm none, tliougli ever thou wilt hate me who hate
thee not, and till thou learneat to love me, Sin shall
be thy portion and Bitieiuess thy comfort.'

But Meriamun spoke no word.

Then Helen beckoned to Rei and spake to him, and
Rei went weeping to do her bidding.

Pres T.tly he returned again, and with him wens
soldiers bearing torches. The soldiers lifted up the
body of the Wanderer, and bore it to a mighty pyre
that was built up of the wealth of the barbarians, of
chariots, spears, and the oars of ships of wondrous
fabrics, and costly furniture. And they laid the Wan-
derer on the pyre, and on bis breast they laid the black
bow of Eur_v tus.

Then Helen spoke to Rei once more, and Rei took a
torch and fired the pyre so that smoke and flame burst
from it. And all the while Meriamun stood by as one
who dreams.

Now the groat pyre was a mass of flame, and the
golden armour of the Wanderer shone through the
flame, and the black bow twisted and crumbled in the
heat. Then of a sudden Meriamun gave a gieat cry,
and tearing the snake girdle from her middle hurled
it on the flames.

' From fire thou camest, thou Ancient P]vil/ she said
in a dead tongue ; ' to fire get thee back again, false
counsellor.*

But Rei the Priest called aloud in the same tongue :

* An ill deed thou hast done, Queen, for thou hast

5i6

THE WORLiyS DESIRE.

token tlif; Snake t, thy bosom, air I where the Snake
pa.ss«s there thou must follow.'

P'ven as lie s)»oke. tin- face of Meriamun grew
fixed, and she was <lrawn slowly towards the fire, as
tliou^h Dv invisildi' hands. Now she stood on its very
brink, aud now wii,! one loud wail she pliinj^'cd into it
and oast herself at len<.(tli on the body ot the Wanderer.

And as she lay then; on the; body, behold the Snake
awoke in the fire Tt awoke, it, grew, it twined itself
about the body of Merianiun and the body of the
Wanderer, and lifting its heM.d, it laughed.

Then the tire fell in, and the Wanderer and Merianiun
the Queen, and the Snake that wiapped them round,
vanished in the heart of the flames.

For awliile the Uoldcn Helen stood still, looking or
the dying fire. Then she let her veil fall, and turning,
wandered forth into the desert and the night, singing as
she passetl.

And so she goe^, wandering, wanderi ,; till Odysseus

conies again.

Now this is the tale tliat I, Rei the Priest, have been
bidden to set forth before 1 lay me down to sleep in my
splendid tomb that I have made ready by Thebes. Let
every man rea-d it as he will, and every woman as the
Gods have given her wit

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wood
• print,

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Gen.

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177.

178.

179.

180.

181.

182.

185.

166.

187.

188.

189.

190.

191.

192.

193.

194.

195.

196.

197.

198.

199.

201.

202.

203.

204.

205.

206.

207.

208.

209.

210,

211.

-^12.

213.

214.

216.
216.

217.

218.

219.

120.

Bvyce's Home Her ien- -Continued.

PRIOS.

The Fair God. By Lew Wallace ^ 80

SL Elmo. By Augusta J. Evans Wilson 30

A Philosopher in Love and in Uniform. By Author Nauoleou Sniifch 25

Donovan. By Edna Lyall 25

The Pleasures of Life. By Bir John Lubbock 25

Marahum. By Harriott Watson 60

VashtL By Augusta J. E. Wilson 30

The People I've Smiled With. By Marshall P. Wilder 50

A Hardi» Norseman. By Edna Lyall : 25

The Master of Ballantrae. By B. L. Stevenson 25

By Prof. H. Druramond...

25
30
25
30
30

Natural Law in the Spiritual World

Macarla. By A. J. E. Wilson

A Winning Wayward Woman. By Flora Adams Darling, A. M. .

An Honest Hypocrite. By E. S. Tompkins

Inez. By Augusta J. E vans Wilson

At the Wercy of Tiberius. Bp A. J. E. Wilson 30

Dr. Heldenhoff's Process. By Edward Bellamy 20

Miss Luddington's Sister. By Edward Bellamy 20

Little Wives. By L. M. Alcott 35

Between Two Loves. By A. E. Barr 40

Lost and Found. By William Scott BO

Openingof a Chestnut Burr. By E.F. Roe 35

Near to Nature's Heart.

A Young Girl's Wooing.

From Jest to Earnest.

An Original Belle.

The Earth Trembled;

A Day of Fate.

He Fell in Love with his Wife. "

What can She Do. "

A Knight of the 19th Century. *'

Barriers Burned Away.

WHhMlaHoMi B7S.P.

Sombro Rivalti •• •* •

A Face Illumined. By E. P. Roe

Driven Back to Eden. ''

((

VtiontiM Vfx (oompleto). HaaryOockloa , si

Handy Andy. By 1. LoT«r u

RoryO'Mtrt. " •• n

MaitoraiM Rtatfy. By C*pt. If arryaM i§

Brjrce's Slome Herlem— Continued.

pRioa.

931 Neolor O'Kalloran. By W. H. Maxwell 16

9Q2. Why Did H? Marry Her. B7 Elixa A. Dupny 15

aS8. Ruby Qra\ s ttratsgy . By Mrs. Aon S. Stephani IS

234. The ;:oar(al Letter. By Nathaniel Hawthorne Iff

385. The Lady e« the Isle. By Mra. Soathwortk Iff

330. Liltio Womeiu By L. M. Aloott Sff

337. The Kreutier Sonata. By Count Leo Toletoi Iff

238. FdriyTaiee. By Badyard Kipling 35

339. SoidiertThr«>. •• •• 35

380. Phantom Riotihaw. '• " 35

381. Three Men in a Boat. By Jerome K. Jerome 35

333. The Sonl of Pierre. By Georf^i Ohnet 59

388. Tho Pietaro of Dorian Gray. ByOeoar Wilde 25

384. An Artlift Honor. By Octare FeaiUet 85

386. Knielit ErnuiL ByBdimLyall 26

236

337

388

389

340

241

142

248

244

245 ,

246

247

£48

249

250 ,

261 ,

262

368

364

365

356

267

268

359

360

861

16
IS
15
15
S5
15
25
35
96
86
6«
U
S6
86