CHAPTER XVII.
A paved road, with a row of Sphinxes on each side, led from the Greektemple of Serapis to the rock-hewn tombs of Apis, and the temples andchapels built over them, and near them; in these the Apis bull after itsdeath--or "in Osiris" as the phrase went--was worshipped, while, so longas it lived, it was taken care of and prayed to in the temple to whichit belonged, that of the god Ptah at Memphis. After death these sacredbulls, which were distinguished by peculiar marks, had extraordinarilycostly obsequies; they were called the risen Ptah, and regarded as thesymbol of the soul of Osiris, by whose procreative power all that diesor passes away is brought to new birth and new life--the departed soulof man, the plant that has perished, and the heavenly bodies that haveset. Osiris-Sokari, who was worshipped as the companion of Osiris,presided over the wanderings which had to be performed by the seeminglyextinct spirit before its resuscitation as another being in a new form;and Egyptian priests governed in the temples of these gods, which werepurely Egyptian in style, and which had been built at a very early dateover the tomb-cave of the sacred bulls. And even the Greek ministers ofSerapis, settled at Memphis, were ready to follow the example of theirrulers and to sacrifice to Osiris-Apis, who was closely allied toSerapis--not only in name but in his essential attributes. Serapishimself indeed was a divinity introduced from Asia into the Nilevalley by the Ptolemies, in order to supply to their Greek and Egyptiansubjects alike an object of adoration, before whose altars they couldunite in a common worship. They devoted themselves to the worship ofApis in Osiris at the shrines, of Greek architecture, and containingstone images of bulls, that stood outside the Egyptian sanctuary, andthey were very ready to be initiated into the higher significance ofhis essence; indeed, all religious mysteries in their Greek home borereference to the immortality of the soul and its fate in the otherworld.
Just as two neighboring cities may be joined by a bridge, so the Greektemple of Serapis--to which the water-bearers belonged--was connectedwith the Egyptian sanctuary of Osiris-Apis by the fine paved road forprocessions along which Klea now rapidly proceeded. There was a shorterway to Memphis, but she chose this one, because the mounds of sand oneach side of the road bordered by Sphinxes--which every day had tobe cleared of the desert-drift--concealed her from the sight of hercompanions in the temple; besides the best and safest way into thecity was by a road leading from a crescent, decorated with busts ofthe philosophers, that lay near the principal entrance to the new Apistombs.
She looked neither at the lion-bodies with men's heads that guarded theway, nor at the images of beasts on the wall that shut it in; nor didshe heed the dusky-hued temple-slaves of Osiris-Apis who were sweepingthe sand from the paved way with large brooms, for she thought ofnothing but Irene and the difficult task that lay before her, and shewalked swiftly onwards with her eyes fixed on the ground.
But she had taken no more than a few steps when she heard her namecalled quite close to her, and looking up in alarm she found herselfstanding opposite Krates, the little smith, who came close up to her,took hold of her veil, threw it back a little before she could preventhim, and asked:
"Where are you off to, child?"
"Do not detain me," entreated Klea. "You know that Irene, whom you arealways so fond of, has been carried off; perhaps I may be able to saveher, but if you betray me, and if they follow me--"
"I will not hinder you," interrupted the old man. "Nay, if it were notfor these swollen feet I would go with you, for I can think of nothingelse but the poor dear little thing; but as it is I shall be glad enoughwhen I am sitting still again in my workshop; it is exactly as if aworkman of my own trade lived in each of my great toes, and was dancinground in them with hammer and file and chisel and nails. Very likely youmay be so fortunate as to find your sister, for a crafty woman succeedsin many things which are too difficult for a wise man. Go on, and ifthey seek for you old Krates will not betray you."
He nodded kindly at Klea, and had already half turned his back on herwhen he once more looked round, and called out to her:
"Wait a minute, girl--you can do me a little service. I have justfitted a new lock to the door of the Apis-tomb down there. It answersadmirably, but the one key to it which I have made is not enough; werequire four, and you shall order them for me of the locksmith Heri,to be sent the day after to-morrow; he lives opposite the gate ofSokari--to the left, next the bridge over the canal--you cannot miss it.I hate repeating and copying as much as I like inventing and making newthings, and Heri can work from a pattern just as well as I can. If itwere not for my legs I would give the man my commission myself, for hewho speaks by the lips of a go-between is often misunderstood or notunderstood at all."
"I will gladly save you the walk," replied Klea, while the Smith satdown on the pedestal of one of the Sphinxes, and opening the leatherwallet which hung by his side shook out the contents. A few files,chisels, and nails fell out into his lap; then the key, and finally asharp, pointed knife with which Krates had cut out the hollow in thedoor for the insertion of the lock; Krates touched up the pattern-keyfor the smith in Memphis with a few strokes of the file, and then,muttering thoughtfully and shaking his head doubtfully from side toside, he exclaimed:
"You still must come with me once more to the door, for I requireaccurate workmanship from other people, and so I must be severe upon myown."
"But I want so much to reach Memphis before dark," besought Klea.
"The whole thing will not take a minute, and if you will give me yourarm I shall go twice as fast. There are the files, there is the knife."
"Give it me," Klea requested. "This blade is sharp and bright, and assoon as I saw it I felt as if it bid me take it with me. Very likely Imay have to come through the desert alone at night."
"Aye," said the smith, "and even the weakest feels stronger when he hasa weapon. Hide the knife somewhere about you, my child, only take carenot to hurt yourself with it. Now let me take your arm, and on we willgo--but not quite so fast."
Klea led the smith to the door he indicated, and saw with admirationhow unfailingly the bolt sprang forward when one half of the door closedupon the other, and how easily the key pushed it back again; then, afterconducting Krates back to the Sphinx near which she had met him, shewent on her way at her quickest pace, for the sun was already very low,and it seemed scarcely possible to reach Memphis before it should set.
As she approached a tavern where soldiers and low people were accustomedto resort, she was met by a drunken slave. She went on and past himwithout any fear, for the knife in her girdle, and on which she kept herhand, kept up her courage, and she felt as if she had thus acquireda third hand which was more powerful and less timid than her own. Acompany of soldiers had encamped in front of the tavern, and the wine ofKbakem, which was grown close by, on the eastern declivity of the Libyanrange, had an excellent savor. The men were in capital spirits, for atnoon today--after they had been quartered here for months as guards ofthe tombs of Apis and of the temples of the Necropolis--a commandingofficer of the Diadoches had arrived at Memphis, who had ordered themto break up at once, and to withdraw into the capital before nightfall.They were not to be relieved by other mercenaries till the next morning.
All this Klea learned from a messenger from the Egyptian temple inthe Necropolis, who recognized her, and who was going to Memphis,commissioned by the priests of Osiris-Apis and Sokari to convey apetition to the king, praying that fresh troops might be promptly sentto replace those now withdrawn.
For some time she went on side by side with this messenger, but soon shefound that she could not keep up with his hurried pace, and had to fallbehind. In front of another tavern sat the officers of the troops,whose noisy mirth she had heard as she passed the former one; they weresitting over their wine and looking on at the dancing of two Egyptiangirls, who screeched like cackling hens over their mad leaps, and whoso effectually riveted the attention of the spectators, who were beatingtime for them by clapping their hands, that Klea, accelerating her step,was able to sl
ip unobserved past the wild crew. All these scenes,nay everything she met with on the high-road, scared the girl who wasaccustomed to the silence and the solemn life of the temple of Serapis,and she therefore struck into a side path that probably also led to thecity which she could already see lying before her with its pylons, itscitadel and its houses, veiled in evening mist. In a quarter of an hourat most she would have crossed the desert, and reach the fertile meadowland, whose emerald hue grew darker and darker every moment. The sunwas already sinking to rest behind the Libyan range, and soon after, fortwilight is short in Egypt, she was wrapped in the darkness of night.The westwind, which had begun to blow even at noon, now rose higher,and seemed to pursue her with its hot breath and the clouds of sand itcarried with it from the desert.
She must certainly be approaching water, for she heard the deep pipe ofthe bittern in the reeds, and fancied she breathed a moister air. A fewsteps more, and her foot sank in mud; and she now perceived that she wasstanding on the edge of a wide ditch in which tall papyrus-plants weregrowing. The side path she had struck into ended at this plantation, andthere was nothing to be done but to turn about, and to continue her walkagainst the wind and with the sand blowing in her face.
The light from the drinking-booth showed her the direction she mustfollow, for though the moon was up, it is true, black clouds sweptacross it, covering it and the smaller lights of heaven for many minutesat a time. Still she felt no fatigue, but the shouts of the men and theloud cries of the women that rang out from the tavern filled her withalarm and disgust. She made a wide circuit round the hostelry, wadingthrough the sand hillocks and tearing her dress on the thorns andthistles that had boldly struck deep root in the desert, and had grownup there like the squalid brats in the hovel of a beggar. But still, asshe hurried on by the high-road, the hideous laughter and the crowingmirth of the dancing-girls still rang in her mind's ear.
Her blood coursed more swiftly through her veins, her head was on fire,she saw Irene close before her, tangibly distinct--with flowing hairand fluttering garments, whirling in a wild dance like a Moenad at aDionysiac festival, flying from one embrace to another and shouting andshrieking in unbridled folly like the wretched girls she had seen on herway. She was seized with terror for her sister--an unbounded dread suchas she had never felt before, and as the wind was now once more behindher she let herself be driven on by it, lifting her feet in a swift runand flying, as if pursued by the Erinnyes, without once looking roundher and wholly forgetful of the smith's commission, on towards the cityalong the road planted with trees, which as she knew led to the gate ofthe citadel.