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

the mummies of his ancestors. “He who stakes this pledge and fails to redeem the debt shall, after his death, rest neither in his father’s tomb nor in any other, and sepulture shall be denied to his descendants.” Herod. 11. 136.]

He lost. If he does not redeem the pledge before the expiration of the third month, he will fall into infamy, the mummy will belong to the winner, and disgrace and ignominy will be my lot and his.”

Katuti pressed her hands on her face, the dwarf muttered to himself, “The gambler and hypocrite!” When his mistress had grown calmer, he said:

“It is horrible, yet all is not lost. How much is the debt?”

It sounded like a heavy curse, when Katuti replied, “Thirty Babylonian talents.”—[L7000 sterling in 1881.]

The dwarf cried out, as if an asp had stung him. “Who dared to bid against such a mad stake?”

“The Lady Hathor’s son, Antef,” answered Katuti, “who has already gambled away the inheritance of his fathers, in Thebes.”

“He will not remit one grain of wheat of his claim,” cried the dwarf. “And Mena?”

“How could my son turn to him after what had happened? The poor child implores me to ask the assistance of the Regent.”

“Of the Regent?” said the dwarf, shaking his big head. “Impossible!”

“I know, as matters now stand; but his place, his name.”

“Mistress,” said the dwarf, and deep purpose rang in the words, “do not spoil the future for the sake of the present. If thy son loses his honor under King Rameses, the future King, Ani, may restore it to him. If the Regent now renders you all an important service, he will regard you as amply paid when our efforts have succeeded, and he sits on the throne. He lets himself be led by thee now because thou hast no need of his help, and dost seem to work only for his sake, and for his elevation. As soon as thou hast appealed to him, and he has assisted thee, all thy confidence and freedom will be gone, and the more difficult he finds it to raise so large a sum of money at once, the angrier he will be to think that thou art making use of him. Thou knowest his circumstances.”

“He is in debt,” said Katuti. “I know that.”

“Thou should’st know it,” cried the dwarf, “for thou thyself hast forced him to enormous expenses. He has won the people of Thebes with dazzling festive displays; as guardian of Apis

[When Apis (the sacred bull) died under Ptolemy I. Soter, his keepers spent not only the money which they had received for his maintenance, in his obsequies but borrowed 50 talents of silver from the king. In the time of Diodurus 100 talents were spent for the same purpose.]

he gave a large donation to Memphis; he bestowed thousands on the leaders of the troops sent into Ethiopia, which were equipped by him; what his spies cost him at, the camp of the king, thou knowest. He has borrowed sums of money from most of the rich men in the country, and that is well, for so many creditors are so many allies. The Regent is a bad debtor; but the king Ani, they reckon, will be a grateful payer.”

Katuti looked at the dwarf in astonishment. “You know men!” she said.

“To my sorrow!” replied Nemu. “Do not apply to the Regent, and before thou dost sacrifice the labor of years, and thy future greatness, and that of those near to thee, sacrifice thy son’s honor.”

“And my husband’s, and my own?” exclaimed Katuti. “How can you know what that is! Honor is a word that the slave may utter, but whose meaning he can never comprehend; you rub the weals that are raised on you by blows; to me every finger pointed at me in scorn makes a wound like an ashwood lance with a poisoned tip of brass. Oh ye holy Gods! who can help us?”

The miserable woman pressed her hands over her eyes, as if to shut out the sight of her own disgrace. The dwarf looked at her compassionately, and said in a changed tone:

“Dost thou remember the diamond which fell out of Nefert’s handsomest ring? We hunted for it, and could not find it. Next day, as I was going through the room, I trod on something hard; I stooped down and found the stone. What the noble organ of sight, the eye, overlooked, the callous despised sole of the foot found; and perhaps the small slave, Nemu, who knows nothing of honor, may succeed in finding a mode of escape which is not revealed to the lofty soul of his mistress!”

“What are you thinking of?” asked Katuti.

“Escape,” answered the dwarf. “Is it true that thy sister Setchem has visited thee, and that you are reconciled?”

“She offered me her hand, and I took it?”

“Then go to her. Men are never more helpful than after a reconciliation. The enmity they have driven out, seems to leave as it were a freshly-healed wound which must be touched with caution; and Setchem is of thy own blood, and kind-hearted.”

“She is not rich,” replied Katuti. “Every palm in her garden comes from her husband, and belongs to her children.”

“Paaker, too, was with you?”

“Certainly only by the entreaty of his mother—he hates my son-in-law.”

“I know it,” muttered the dwarf, “but if Nefert would ask him?”

The widow drew herself up indignantly. She felt that she had allowed the dwarf too much freedom, and ordered him to leave her alone.

Nemu kissed her robe and asked timidly:

“Shall I forget that thou hast trusted me, or am I permitted to consider further as to thy son’s safety?” Katuti stood for a moment undecided, then she said:

“You were clever enough to find what I carelessly dropped; perhaps some God may show you what I ought to do. Now leave me.”

“Wilt thou want me early to-morrow?”

“No.”

“Then I will go to the Necropolis, and offer a sacrifice.”

“Go!” said Katuti, and went towards the house with the fatal letter in her hand.

Nemu stayed behind alone; he looked thoughtfully at the ground, murmuring to himself.

“She must not lose her honor; not at present, or indeed all will be lost. What is this honor? We all come into the world without it, and most of us go to the grave without knowing it, and very good folks notwithstanding. Only a few who are rich and idle weave it in with the homely stuff of their souls, as the Kuschites do their hair with grease and oils, till it forms a cap of which, though it disfigures them, they are so proud that they would rather have their ears cut off than the monstrous thing. I see, I see—but before I open my mouth I will go to my mother. She knows more than twenty prophets.”