Uarda : a Romance of Ancient Egypt — Complete by Georg Ebers (find a book to read txt) 📕

is excited, and this time I quickly made his face, and as the image was successful, I kept it about me to show to the master when Hekt was out.”

While he spoke he had carefully unwrapped the figure with trembling fingers, and had given it to Uarda.

“Ani!” cried the prince. “He, and no other! Who could have thought it! What spite has he against Pentaur? What is the priest to him?”

For a moment he reflected, then he struck his hand against his forehead.

“Fool that I am!” he exclaimed vehemently. “Child that I am! of course, of course; I see it all. Ani asked for Bent-Anat’s hand, and she—now that I love you, Uarda, I understand what ails her. Away with deceit! I will tell you no more lies, Uarda. I am no page of honor to Bent-Anat; I am her brother, and king Rameses’ own son. Do not cover your face with your hands, Uarda, for if I had not seen your mother’s jewel, and if I were not only a prince, but Horus himself, the son of Isis, I must have loved you, and would not have given you up. But now other things have to be done besides lingering with you; now I will show you that I am a man, now that Pentaur is to be saved. Farewell, Uarda, and think of me!”

He would have hurried off, but Scherau held him by the robe, and said timidly: “Thou sayst thou art Rameses’ son. Hekt spoke of him too. She compared him to our moulting hawk.”

“She shall soon feel the talons of the royal eagle,” cried Rameri. “Once more, farewell!”

He gave Uarda his hand, she pressed it passionately to her lips, but he drew it away, kissed her forehead, and was gone.

The maiden looked after him pale and speechless. She saw another man hastening towards her, and recognizing him as her father, she went quickly to meet him. The soldier had come to take leave of her, he had to escort some prisoners.

“To Chennu?” asked Uarda.

“No, to the north,” replied the man.

His daughter now related what she had heard, and asked whether he could help the priest, who had saved her.

“If I had money, if I had money!” muttered the soldier to himself.

“We have some,” cried Uarda; she told him of Nebsecht’s gift, and said: “Take me over the Nile, and in two hours you will have enough to make a man rich.

[It may be observed that among the Egyptian women were qualified to own and dispose of property. For example a papyrus (vii) in the Louvre contains an agreement between Asklepias (called Semmuthis), the daughter or maid-servant of a corpse-dresser of Thebes, who is the debtor, and Arsiesis, the creditor, the son of a kolchytes; both therefore are of the same rank as Uarda.]

But no; I cannot leave my sick grandmother. You yourself take the ring, and remember that Pentaur is being punished for having dared to protect us.”

“I remember it,” said the soldier. “I have but one life, but I will willingly give it to save his. I cannot devise schemes, but I know something, and if it succeeds he need not go to the gold-mines. I will put the wine-flask aside—give me a drink of water, for the next few hours I must keep a sober head.”

“There is the water, and I will pour in a mouthful of wine. Will you come back and bring me news?”

“That will not do, for we set sail at midnight, but if some one returns to you with the ring you will know that what I propose has succeeded.”

Uarda went into the hut, her father followed her; he took leave of his sick mother and of his daughter. When they went out of doors again, he said: “You have to live on the princess’s gift till I return, and I do not want half of the physician’s present. But where is your pomegranate blossom?”

“I have picked it and preserved it in a safe place.”

“Strange things are women!” muttered the bearded man; he tenderly kissed his child’s forehead, and returned to the Nile down the road by which he had come.

The prince meanwhile had hurried on, and enquired in the harbor of the Necropolis where the vessel destined for Chennu was lying—for the ships loaded with prisoners were accustomed to sail from this side of the river, starting at night. Then he was ferried over the river, and hastened to Bent-Anat. He found her and Nefert in unusual excitement, for the faithful chamberlain had learned—through some friends of the king in Ani’s suite—that the Regent had kept back all the letters intended for Syria, and among them those of the royal family.

A lord in waiting, who was devoted to the king, had been encouraged by the chamberlain to communicate to Bent-Anat other things, which hardly allowed any doubts as to the ambitious projects of her uncle; she was also exhorted to be on her guard with Nefert, whose mother was the confidential adviser of the Regent.

Bent-Anat smiled at this warning, and sent at once a message to Ani to inform him that she was ready to undertake the pilgrimage to the “Emerald-Hathor,” and to be purified in the sanctuary of that Goddess.

She purposed sending a message to her father from thence, and if he permitted it, joining him at the camp.

She imparted this plan to her friend, and Nefert thought any road best that would take her to her husband.

Rameri was soon initiated into all this, and in return he told them all he had learned, and let Bent-Anat guess that he had read her secret.

So dignified, so grave, were the conduct and the speech of the boy who had so lately been an overhearing mad-cap, that Bent-Anat thought to herself that the danger of their house had suddenly ripened a boy into a man.

She had in fact no objection to raise to his arrangements. He proposed to travel after sunset, with a few faithful servants on swift horses as far as Keft, and from thence ride fast across the desert to the Red Sea, where they could take a Phoenician ship, and sail to Aila. From thence they would cross the peninsula of Sinai, and strive to reach the Egyptian army by forced marches, and make the king acquainted with Ani’s criminal attempts.

To Bent-Anat was given the task of rescuing Pentaur, with the help of the faithful chamberlain.

Money was fortunately not wanting, as the high treasurer was on their side. All depended on their inducing the captain to stop at Chennu; the poet’s fate would there, at the worst, be endurable. At the same time, a trustworthy messenger was to be sent to the governor of Chennu, commanding him in the name of the king to detain every ship that might pass the narrows of Chennu by night, and to prevent any of the prisoners that had been condemned to the quarries from being smuggled on to Ethiopia.

Rameri took leave of the two women, and he succeeded in leaving Thebes unobserved.

Bent-Anat knelt in prayer before the images of her mother in