The World's Desire.............................................................................................................................................1

H. Rider Haggard and Andrew Lang.......................................................................................................1

The period in which the story of The World's Desire is cast, was a period when, as Miss Braddon remarks of

the age of the Plantagenets, "anything might happen." Recent discoveries, mainly by Dr. Schliemann and Mr.

Flinders Petrie, have shown that there really was much intercourse between Heroic Greece, the Greece of the

Achaeans, and the Egypt of the Ramessids. This connection, rumoured of in Greek legends, is attested by

Egyptian relics found in the graves of Mycenae, and by very ancient Levantine pottery, found in

contemporary sites in Egypt. Homer himself shows us Odysseus telling a feigned, but obviously not

improbable, tale of an Achaean raid on Egypt. Meanwhile the sojourn of the Israelites, with their Exodus

from the land of bondage, though not yet found to be recorded on the Egyptian monuments, was probably

part of the great contemporary stir among the peoples. These events, which are only known through Hebrew

texts, must have worn a very different aspect in the eyes of Egyptians, and of prehistoric Achaean observers,

hostile in faith to the Children of Israel. The topic has since been treated in fiction by Dr. Ebers, in his Joshua.

In such a twilight age, fancy has free play, but it is a curious fact that, in this romance, modern fancy has

Most of the novel was written, and the apparently "unGreek" marvels attributed to Helen had been put on

paper, when a part of Furtw�ngler's recent great lexicon of Mythology appeared, with the article on Helen.

The authors of The World's Desire read it with a feeling akin to amazement. Their wildest inventions about

the Daughter of the Swan, it seemed, had parallels in the obscurer legends of Hellas. There actually is a

tradition, preserved by Eustathius, that Paris beguiled Helen by magically putting on the aspect of Menelaus.

There is a mediaeval parallel in the story of Uther and Ygerne, mother of Arthur, and the classical case of

Zeus and Amphitryon is familiar. Again, the blooddripping ruby of Helen, in the tale, is mentioned by

Servius in his commentary on Virgil (it was pointed out to one of the authors by Mr. Mackail). But we did

not know that the Star of the story was actually called the "Starstone" in ancient Greek fable. The many

voices of Helen are alluded to by Homer in the Odyssey: she was also named Echo, in old tradition. To add

that she could assume the aspect of every man's first love was easy. Goethe introduces the same quality in the

fair witch of his Walpurgis Nacht. A respectable portrait of Meriamun's secret counsellor exists, in pottery, in

the British Museum, though, as it chances, it was not discovered by us until after the publication of this

romance. The Laestrygonian of the Last Battle is introduced as a prehistoric Norseman. Mr. Gladstone, we

think, was perhaps the first to point out that the Laestrygonians of the Odyssey, with their home on a fiord in

the Land of the Midnight Sun, were probably derived from travellers' tales of the North, borne with the amber

along the immemorial Sacred Way. The Magic of Meriamun is in accordance with Egyptian ideas; her

resuscitation of the dead woman, Hataska, has a singular parallel in Reginald Scot's Discovery of Witchcraft

(1584), where the spell "by the silence of the Night" is not without poetry. The general conception of Helen

as the World's Desire, Ideal Beauty, has been dealt with by M. Paul de St. Victor, and Mr. J. A. Symonds. For

the rest, some details of battle, and of wounds, which must seem very "unGreek" to critics ignorant of Greek

Across the wide backs of the waves, beneath the mountains, and between the islands, a ship came stealing

from the dark into the dusk, and from the dusk into the dawn. The ship had but 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 halfdeck at the bows, a man who looked always forward, through the night, and

the twilight, and the clear morning. He was of no great stature, but broadbreasted and very wide

shouldered, with many signs of strength. He had blue eyes, and dark curled 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

blaze of the island beacons out of the darkness, and, later, for the smoke rising from the faroff hills. But he

watched in vain; there was neither light nor smoke on the grey peak that lay clear against a field of yellow

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

As they neared the coast, and neither heard nor saw a sign of life, the man's face fell. The gladness 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 was Odysseus, the son of Laerteswhom some call

Ulyssesreturned from his unsung second wandering. The whole world has heard the tale of his first

voyage, how he was tossed for ten years on the sea after the taking of Troy, how he reached home at last,

alone and disguised as a beggar; how he found violence in his house, how he slew his foes in his own hall,

and won his wife again. But even in his own country he was not permitted to rest, for there was a curse upon

him and a labour to be accomplished. He must wander again till he reached the land of men who had never

tasted salt, nor ever heard of the salt sea. There he must sacrifice to the SeaGod, and then, at last, set his

face homewards. Now he had endured that curse, he had fulfilled the prophecy, he had angered, by

misadventure, the Goddess who was his friend, and after adventures that have never yet been told, he had

He came from strange countries, from the Gates of the Sun and from White Rock, from the Passing Place of

But he found his own isle more still and strange by far. The realm of Dreams was not so dumb, the Gates of

the Sun were not so still, as the shores of the familiar island beneath the rising dawn.

This story, whereof the substance was set out long ago by Rei, the instructed Egyptian priest, tells what he

The ship ran on and won the wellknown haven, sheltered from wind by two headlands of sheer cliff. There

she sailed straight in, till the leaves of the broad olive tree at the head of the inlet were tangled in her cordage.

Then the Wanderer, without once looking back, or saying one word of farewell to his crew, caught a bough of

the olive tree with his hand, and swung himself ashore. Here he kneeled, and kissed the earth, and, covering

his head within his cloak, he prayed that he might find his house at peace, his wife dear and true, and his son

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

When he rose from his knees he glanced back across the waters, but there was now no ship in the haven, nor

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

steep path leading up the hill, over the wolds, and across the ridge of rock that divides the two masses of the

island. Up he climbed, purposing, as of old, to seek the house of his faithful servant, the swineherd, and learn

from him the tidings of his home. On the brow of a hill he stopped 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 he approached, the dogs did not run barking, as sheepdogs 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 for 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

The Wanderer came forth into the warm sunlight, set his face to the hill again, and went on his way to the city

He saw the sea from the hilltop glittering as of yore, but there were no brown sails of fisherboats on the

sea. All the land that should now have waved with the white corn was green with tangled weeds. Half way

down the rugged 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 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 the altar of the Nymphs the flame had long been cold. The very ashes were

On the Wanderer pressed with a heavy heart; now the high roof of his own hall and the wide fenced courts

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 no altar, but a great, grey mound, not of earth, but of white

dust mixed with black. Over this mound the coarse grass pricked up scantily, like thin hair on a leprosy.

Then the Wanderer shuddered, for out of the grey 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 fire,

while they who laid them there must have 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 in that

welcome. There, unwelcomed, he stood, leaning on his staff. Then a sudden ray of the sun fell on something

that glittered in the heap, and he touched it with the end of the staff that he had in his hand. It slid jingling

from the heap; it was the bone of a forearm, and that which glittered on it was a halfmolten ring of gold. On

At the sight of the armlet the Wanderer fell on the earth, grovelling among 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 Penelope. This was the

bracelet of the bride of his youth, and here, a mockery and a terror, were those kind arms in which he had

lain. Then his strength was shaken with sobbing, and his hands clutched blindly before him, and he gathered

dust and cast it upon his head till the dark locks were defiled with the ashes of his dearest, and he longed to

There he lay, biting his hands for sorrow, and for wrath against God and Fate. There he lay while the sun 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 sun fell and the ways were darkened. Slowly the eastern sky grew silver with the moon. A nightfowl's

voice was heard from afar, it drew nearer; then through the shadow of the pyre the black wings fluttered into

the light, and the carrion bird fixed its talons and its beak on the Wanderer's neck. Then he moved at length,

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 he 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 shafts 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 throughout 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

But there, in its gleaming case, lay one thing friendly and familiar. There lay the Bow of Eurytus, the bow for

which great Heracles had slain his own host in his halls; the dreadful bow that no mortal man but the

Wanderer could bend. He was never used to carry this precious bow with him on shipboard, when he went to

the wars, but treasured it at home, the memorial of a dear friend foully slain. So now, when the voices of dog,

and slave, and child, and wife were mute, there yet 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 shrill, a ringing and 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 triumphant. In his ears and

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 heartthis music he had heard so many a timethe

Wanderer 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

Then at length, when he heard the bowstring twang to his touch, the fountains of his sorrow were unsealed;

When he had his fill of weeping, he rose, for hunger drove himhunger that is of all things the most

shameless, 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 again over fallen fragments of the home which he

himself had built, he went to the inner, secret storehouse. Even he could scarcely find the door, for saplings of

trees had grown up about it; yet he found it at last. Within the holy well 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 together out of his treasurechest the

beautiful golden armour of unhappy Paris, son of Priam, the false love of fair Helen. These arms had been

taken at the sack of Troy, and had lain long in the treasury of Menelaus in Sparta; 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 faroff land. Already the love of life had come back to him, now that he had eaten and drunk,

and had heard the Song of the Bow, the Slayer of Men. He lived yet, and hope lived in him though his 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 searobbers 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 lances, 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

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 lord. Long has the grass grown over it, and the sea wind wailed!

The fragrant night was clear and still, the silence scarce broken by the lapping of the waves, as the Wanderer

went down from his fallen home to the city on the sea, walking warily, and watching for any light from the

houses 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. There were gaping chasms in the road, here and there, and

through rifts in the walls of the houses the moon shone strangely, making ragged shadows. At last the

Wanderer reached the 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 Temple of Aphrodite, the Queen of Love, and from the open

door a sweet savour of incense and a golden blaze rushed forth till they were lost in the silver of the

moonshine and in the salt smell of the sea. Thither the Wanderer went slowly, for his limbs were swaying

with weariness, and he was half in a dream. Yet he hid himself cunningly in the shadow 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 tread of dancing feet within the fane of the Goddess of Love; the sacred plot 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 faggots burning, nor were

there torches lighted in the hands of the golden men and maids, the images that stand within the fane of

Aphrodite. Yet, if he did not dream, nor take moonlight for fire, the temple was bathed in showers of gold by

a splendour of flame. 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, and the carven pillars and the beams, and the roof

At this the Wanderer was afraid, knowing that an immortal was at hand; for the comings and 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. However it was, it seemed to him that

soon there came a murmuring and a whispering of the myrtle leaves and laurels, and a sound in the tops of

the pines, and then his face was fanned by a breath more cold than the wind that wakes the dawn. At the

touch of this breath the Wanderer shuddered, and the hair on his flesh stood up, so cold was the strange wind.

There was silence; and he heard a voice, and he knew 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 Athene, the Queen 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 moaning 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 thou here as a suppliant at the knees of the daughter of Dione?"

"Behold, thy house is desolate; thy hearth is cold. The wild hare breeds on thy hearthstone, and the nightbird

roosts beneath thy roof tree. Thou hast neither child nor wife nor native land, and she hath forsaken

theethy Lady Athene. Many a time didst thou sacrifice to her the thighs of kine and sheep, but didst thou

ever give so much as a pair of dove to me? Hath she left thee, as the Dawn forsook Tithonus, because there

are now threads of silver in the darkness of thy hair? Is the wise goddess fickle as 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 I know, that on

thee, Odysseus, old age will soon be hasteningold age that is pitiless, and ruinous, and weary, and

weakage that cometh on all men, and that is hateful to the Gods. Therefore, Odysseus, ere yet it be too late,

I would bow even thee to my will, and hold thee for my thrall. For I am she who conquers all 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 ensure the caresses of Circe, the Daughter of the Sun, and

thou wert aweary in the arms of Calypso, and the Sea King's daughter came never to her longing. As for her

who is dead, thy dear wife Penelope, thou didst love her with a loyal heart, but never with a heart of fire. Nay,

she was but thy companion, thy housewife, and the mother of thy child. She was mingled with all the

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 hearth where once was a camp of men. What have all

thy wars and wanderings won for thee, all thy labours, and all the adventures thou hast achieved? For what

didst thou seek among the living and the dead? Thou soughtest that which all men seekthou soughtest The

World's Desire. They find it not, nor hast thou found it, Odysseus; and thy friends are dead; thy land is dead;

nothing lives but Hope. But the life that lies before thee is new, without a remnant of the old days, except for

the bitterness of longing and remembrance. Out of this new life, and the unborn hours, wilt thou not give,

The voice, as it seemed, grew softer and came nearer, till the Wanderer heard it whisper in his very ear, and

with the voice came a divine fragrance. The breath of her who spoke seemed to touch his neck; the immortal

"Nay, Odysseus, didst thou not once give me one little hour? Fear not, for thou shalt not see me at this time,

Then the Wanderer lifted his head, and he saw, as it were in a 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 perchance have envied this

loveliness. She was slim and gracious as a young shoot of a palm tree, and her eyes were fearless and

innocent as a child's. On her head she bore a shining urn of bronze, as if she were bringing water from the

wells, and behind her was the foliage of a plane tree. Then the Wanderer knew her, and saw her once again as

he had seen her, when in his boyhood he had journeyed to the Court of her father, King Tyndareus. For, as he

entered Sparta, and came down the hill Taygetus, and as his chariot wheels flashed through the ford of

Eurotas, he had met her there on her way from the river. There, in his youth, his eyes had gazed on the

loveliness of Helen, and his heart had been filled with the desire of the fairest of women, and like all the

princes of Achaia he had sought her hand in marriage. But Helen was given to another man, to Menelaus,

Atreus's son, of an evil house, that the knees of many might be loosened in death, and that there might be a

As he beheld the vision of young Helen, the Wanderer too grew young again. But as he gazed with the eyes

and loved with the first love of a boy, she melted like a mist, and out of the 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 head with oil. And the 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 Ach�ans, 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 bathed him, and anointed

him with oil, and suffered him to go in peace, all for the memory of the love that was between them of old.

As he gazed, that picture faded and melted in the mist, and again he bowed his head, and kneeled by the

"Where beneath the sunlight dwells the golden Helen?" For now he had only one desire: to look on Helen

"Did I not say truth, Odysseus? Wast not thou my servant for one hour, and did not Love save thee in the city

"Behold then," said 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 lonely till thou diest. Therefore I breathe into thy heart a sweet forgetfulness of

every 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 man shall sleep at last in the arms of the fairest of women. But learn

"And I give thee a sign to know her by in a land of magic, and among women that deal in sorceries.

"On the breast of Helen a jewel shines, a great starstone, the gift I gave her on her weddingnight when she

was bride to Menelaus. From that stone fall red drops like blood, and they drip on her vestment, and there

"By the Star of Love shalt thou know her; by the star shalt thou swear to her; and if thou knowest not the

portent of the Bleeding Star, or if thou breakest that oath, never in this life, Odysseus, shalt thou win the

golden Helen! And thine own death shall come from the water the swiftest deaththat the saying of the

dead prophet may be fulfilled. Yet first shalt thou lie in the arms of the golden Helen."

"Queen, how may this be, for I am alone on a seagirt isle, and I have no ship and no companions to speed me

"Fear not! the gods can bring to pass even greater things than these. Go from my house, and lie down to sleep

in my holy ground, within the noise of the wash of the waves. There sleep, and take thy rest! Thy strength

shall come back to thee, and before the setting of the new sun thou shalt be sailing on the path to The World's

The voice died into silence, like the dying of music. The Wanderer awoke and lifted his head, but the light

had faded, and the temple was grey in the first waking of the dawn. Yet there, on the altar where no cup had

been, stood a deep chalice of gold, full of red wine to the brim. This the Wanderer lifted and draineda

draught of Nepenthe, the magic cup that puts trouble out of mind. As he drank, a wave of sweet hope went

over his heart, and buried far below it the sorrow of remembrance, and the trouble of the past, and the longing

With a light step he went forth like a younger man, taking the two spears in his hand, and the bow upon his

back, and he lay down beneath a great rock that looked toward the deep, and there he slept.

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 oars. Any man who saw her would have known her to be a vessel of the

merchants of Sidonthe most cunning people and the greediest of gainfor on her prow were two

bigheaded 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 halfdeck beside

the steersman was the captain, a thin, keeneyed 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 all that glittered yellow was a lure for him, and gold drew him on as iron draws the hands of

heroes. So he bade the helmsman steer straight in, for the sea was deep below the rock, and there they all saw

a man lying asleep in golden armour. They whispered together, laughing silently, and then sprang ashore,

taking with them a rope of twisted oxhide, a hawser of the ship, and a strong cable of byblus, the papyrus

plant. On these ropes they cast a loop and a running knot, a lasso for throwing, so that they might capture the

man in safety from a distance. With these in their hands they crept up the cliff, for their purpose was to noose

the man in golden 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, who were greedy of everything, loved

nothing better than to catch free men and women, who might be purchased, by mere 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, or Egyptian Thebes, and had died sadly, far 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 to 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 dreams, and

turned and sat up, looking around him half awake. But as he woke the noose fell about his neck and over his

arms and they drew it hard, and threw him on his back. Before they could touch him he was on his feet again,

crying his war cry terribly, the cry that shook the towers of Ilium, and he rushed upon them, clutching at his

sword hilt. The men who were nearest him and had hold of the rope let it fall from their hands and fled, but

the others swung behind him, and dragged with all their force. If his arms had been free so that he might draw

his sword, it would 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 fled

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. Then 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 of another

But at last his strength was spent, and they had him like a bird in a snare; so, by might and main, they bore

him to their ship, and threw him down on the foredeck of the vessel. There they mocked him, though they

were 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 slavemarket of Egypt. The wind was fair, and their

hearts were light, for they had been among the first of their people to deal with the wild tribes of the island

Albion, and had brought tin and gold for African sea shells and rude glass beads from Egypt. And now, near

the very end of their adventure, they had caught a man whose armour and whose body were worth a king's

The rest of the journey was long, but in wellknown waters. They passed by Cephalonia and the rock of

�gilips, 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 oncethat was when they neared

Zacynthus. Then he strained his head round with a mighty strain, and he saw the sun go down upon the

So the swift ship ran along the coast, slipping by forgotten towns. Past the Echinean isles, and the Elian

shore, 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 seacoast and the sea. But when they were come near Malea, 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 scudded long before the stormwind, losing their reckoning, and rushing

by island temples that showed like ghosts through the mist, and past havens which they 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 bronzetipped spears in his hand. He would sink or swim with the

ship; he would go down with his treasure, or reach Sidon, the City of Flowers, and build a white house

So 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

Sidonians took heart, and were glad like men escaped from death; so they sacrificed and poured forth wine

before the dwarfgods 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 quiver and his bow they

arrayed in the fashion of a trophy; and they mocked him, believing that he knew no word 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

The Sidonians, however, jibed and spoke freely before him, saying how they were bound for the rich city of

Tanis, on the banks of the River of Egypt, and how the captain was minded to 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 brought him dried meat and wine, and he ate till his strength returned

to him. Then he entreated them by signs to loosen the cord that bound his legs; for indeed his limbs were

dead through the strength of the bonds, and his armour was eating into his flesh. At his prayer they took some

pity of him and loosened his bonds again, and he lay upon his back, moving his legs to and fro till his

So they sailed southward ever, through smooth waters and past the islands that lie like waterlilies in the

midland sea. Many a strange sight they saw: vessels bearing slaves, whose sighing might be heard above the

sighing of wind and wateryoung men and maidens of Ionia and Achaia, stolen by slavetraders into

bondage; now they would touch at the white havens of a peaceful city; and again they would watch a smoke

on the sealine 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 bloodred on their sails, and glitter on the gilded shields that lined the bulwarks of

their ships. 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, while his guard watched under an awning

in the moonlight on the deck. They dreamed so little of his escaping that they visited him only by watches,

now and again; and, as it chanced, the man whose turn it was to see that all was well fell asleep. Many a

thought went through the prisoner's mind, and now it seemed to him that the vision of the Goddess was only a

vision of sleep, which came, as they said, through the false Gates of Ivory, and not through the Gates of Horn.

So he was to live in slavery after all, a king no longer, but a captive, toiling in the Egyptian mines of Sinai, or

a soldier at a palace gate, till he died. Thus he brooded, till out of the stillness came a thin, faint, thrilling

sound from the bow that hung against the mast over his head, the bow that he never thought to string again.

There was a noise of a singing of the bow and of the string, and the wordless song shaped itself thus in the

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 barrier to his vengeance; they would break

like burnt tow, he knew, in the fire of his anger. Long since, in his old days of wandering, Calypso, his love,

had taught him in the summer leisure of her seagirt isle how to tie the knots that no man could untie, and to

undo all the knots that men can bind. He remembered this lesson in the night when the bow sang of war. So

he thought no more of sleeping, but cunningly and swiftly unknotted all the cords and the bonds which bound

him to a bar of iron in the hold. He might have escaped now, perhaps, if he had stolen on deck without

waking the guards, dived thence and swam under water towards the island, where he might have hidden

himself in the bush. But he desired revenge no less than freedom, and had set his heart on coming in a ship of

his own, and with all the great treasure of the Sidonians, before the Egyptian King.

With this in his mind, he did not throw off the cords, but let them lie on his arms and legs and about his body,

as 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

"Mighty lord, art thou some god of Javan" (for so the Sidonians called the Ach�ans), "and wilt thou deign to

taste our sacrifice? Is not the savour sweet in the nostrils of my lord? Why will he not put forth his hand to

Then the heart of Odysseus muttered sullenly within him, in wrath at the insolence of the man. But he

"Wilt thou not bring the mess a very little nearer, my friend, that I may smell the sweet incense of the

They were amazed when they heard him speak in their own tongue; but he who held the dish brought it

nearer, like a man that angers a dog, now offering the meat, and now taking it away.

So soon as the man was within reach, the Wanderer sprang out, the loosened bonds falling at his feet, and

smote the sailor beneath the ear with his clenched fist. The blow was so fierce, for all his anger went into it,

that it crushed the bone, and drove the man against the mast of the ship so that the strong mast shook. Where

Then the Wanderer snatched from the mast his bow and his short sword, slung the quiver about his shoulders,

The bulwarks of the deck were high, and the vessel was narrow, and before the sailors could stir for

amazement the Wanderer had taken his stand behind the little altar and the dwarfgods. Here he stood with

an arrow on the string, and the bow drawn to his ear, looking about him terribly.

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

"Alas! what god have we taken and bound? Our ship may not contain him. Surely he is Resef Mikal, the God

of the Bow, whom they of Javan call Apollo. Nay, let us land him on the isle and come not to blows with

"Not so, ye knaves! Have at him, for he is no god, but a mortal man; and his armour is worth many a yoke of

Then he bade some of them climb the decking at the further end of the ship, and throw spears at him thence;

and he called others to bring up one of the long spears and charge him with that. Now these were huge pikes,

that were wielded by five or six men at once, and no armour could withstand them; they 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

The men whom the captain appointed little liked the task, for the long spears were laid on tressels along the

bulwarks, and to reach them and unship them it was needful to come within range of the bow. But the sailors

on the further deck threw all their spears at once, while five men leaped on the deck where the Wanderer

stood. He loosed the bowstring and the shaft sped on its way; again he drew and loosed, and now two of them

had fallen beneath his arrows, and one was struck by a chance blow from a spear thrown from the further

Then the Wanderer shouted from the high decking of the prow in the speech of the Sidonians:

"Ye dogs, ye have sailed on your latest seafaring, and never again shall ye bring the hour of slavery on any

So he cried, and the sailors gathered together in the hold, and took counsel how they should deal with him.

But meanwhile the bow was silent, and of those on the hinder deck who were casting spears, one dropped 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 the 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 planking.

Suddenly there was a rush of men on to the further decking, and certain of them tore the shields that lined the

bulwarks from their pins, and threw them down to those who were below, 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 gods; 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 gangway 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, he felt, as it were, a shadow between him and 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 quicker 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 Wanderer kept raining on the men 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,

Then the Wanderer himself waited no longer, seeing them all amazed, but he drew his sword and leaped

down among them with a cry like a seaeagle swooping on seamews in the crevice of a rock. To right and

left he smote with the short sword, making a havoc and sparing none, for the sword ravened in his hand. And

some fell over the benches 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 struck a blow. Only the captain of the ship, knowing that all was lost, turned and threw a spear in the

Wanderer's face. But he watched the flash of the bronze and stooped 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

Sidonian captain, and smote him with the flat of his sword so that he fell senseless on the deck, and then he

bound him hand and foot with cords as he himself had been bound, and made him fast to the iron bar in the

hold. Next he gathered up the dead in his mighty arms, and set them against the bulwarks of the foredeck

harvesting the fruits of War. Above the deck the man who had crept along the yard was hanging by his two

"Art thou there, friend?" cried the Wanderer, mocking him. "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 lookout

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 he was stained like a lion that has devoured

an ox. Next, with a golden comb he combed his 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 on 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 shaft and put on the helmet with the point of the

javelin still fixed firm in the crest, as Fate would have it so, and this was the beginning of his sorrows. Next

he ate meat and bread, and drank wine, and poured forth some of the wine before his gods. Lastly he dragged

up the heavy stone with which the ship was moored, 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

A hard fight 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 heaven 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 caught his bow eagerly into his hand and set an arrow on the 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 speed of its rush, the wild white swan flashed down like lightning into the sea

behind the ship. The Wanderer watched its fall, when, lo! the water where the dead swan fell splashed up as

red as blood and all afoam! The long silver wings and snowy plumage floated on the surface flecked with

bloodred 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 were with a

blood red scum. Hither and thither the red stain was tossed like foam, yet beneath, where the deep wave

divided, the Wanderer saw that the streams of the sea were grey and green below the crimson dye. As he

watched he saw, too, that the red froth was drifted always onward from the South and from the mouth of the

River of Egypt, for behind the wake of the ship it was most red of all, though he had not marked it when 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 Egypt 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 sacred 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 would send him. The flight of birds was over and

past; it was two hours after noon, the light was high in the heaven, when, as he gazed, another shadow fell on

him, for the sun in midheaven 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 night. Beyond, to the southward, there was a bank of cloud like a mountain

wall, steep, and polished, and black, tipped along the ragged crest with fire, and opening ever and again with

flashes of intolerable splendour, while the bases were scrawled over with lightning like a written scroll.

Never had the Wanderer in all his voyaging on the sea and on the great River Oceanus that girdles the earth,

and severs the dead from the living mennever had he beheld such a darkness. Presently he came as it were

within the jaws of it, dark as a wolf's mouth, so dark that he might not see the corpses on the deck, nor the

mast, nor the dead man swinging from the yard, nor the captain of the Ph�nicians who groaned aloud below,

praying to his gods. But in the wake of the ship there was one break of clear blue sky on the horizon, in which

the little isle where he had slain the Sidonians might be discerned far off, as bright and white as ivory.

Now, though he knew it not, the gates of his own world were closing behind the Wanderer for ever. To the

North, whence he came, lay the clear sky, and the sunny capes and isles, and the airy mountains of the Argive

lands, white with the temples of familiar Gods. But in face of him, to the South, whither he went, was a cloud

of darkness and a land of darkness itself. There were things to befall more marvellous than are told in any

tale; there was to be a war of the peoples, and of the Gods, the True Gods and the False, and there he should

Foreboding somewhat of the perils that lay in front, the Wanderer was tempted to shift his course and sail

back to the sunlight. 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 foreordained. 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 dwarfgods, where the embers of the

sacrifice still were glowing faintly. Then with his sword he cut some spearshafts 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,

Of all his voyages this was the strangest seafaring, 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 were forgotten, so potent was the draught of the chalice of the

"Endure, my heart," he cried, as often he had cried before, "a worse thing than this thou hast endured," and he

So he was chanting when he descried, faint and far off, a red glow cast up along the darkness like sunset on

the sky of the Underworld. For this light he steered, and soon he saw two tall pillars of flame blazing beside

each other, with a narrow space of night between them. He helmed the ship towards these, and when he came

near them they were like two mighty mountains of wood burning far into heaven, and each was lofty as the

pyre that blazes over men slain in some red war, and each pile roared and flared above a steep crag of smooth

black basalt, and between the burning mounds of fire lay the flameflecked water of a haven.

The ship neared the haven and the Wanderer saw, moving like fireflies through the night, the lanterns in the

prows of boats, and from one of the boats a sailor hailed him in the speech of the people of Egypt, asking him

"Yea," he shouted. The boat drew near, and the pilot came aboard, a torch in his hand; but when his eyes fell

on the dead men in the ship, and the horror hanging from the yard, and the captain bound to the iron bar, and

above all, on the golden armour of the hero, and on the spearpoint 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 harbour. But the

Wanderer bade him have no fear, telling him that he came with much wealth and with a great gift for the

Pharaoh. 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 Egypt, the flames glittering on the Wanderer's

Then, by the counsel of the pilot, the vessel was steered up the river towards the Temple of Heracles in Tanis,

where there is a sanctuary for strangers, and where no man may harm them. But first, the dead Sidonians

were cast overboard into the great river, for the dead bodies of men are an abomination to the Egyptians. And

as each body struck the water the Wanderer saw a hateful sight, for the face of the river was lashed into foam

by the sudden leaping and rushing of huge fourfooted fish, or so the Wanderer deemed them. The sound of

the heavy plunging of the great waterbeasts, as they darted forth on the prey, smiting at each other with their

tails, and the gnashing of their jaws when they bit too eagerly, and only harmed the air, and the leap of a

greedy sharp snout from the waves, even before the dead man cast from the ship had quite touched the

waterthese things were horrible to see and hear through the blackness and by the firelight. 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 waterbeasts that dwelt within it. Then he remembered how the birds had fled in terror from this place,

When 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 had run so red, and whether war was in the land, and why there

was night over all that country. The fellow answered that there was no war, but peace, yet the land was

strangely plagued with frogs and locusts and lice in all their 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 that the Gods

were angry with Khem (as they call Egypt), which indeed was easy to see, for those things could come only

from the Gods. But why they were angered the pilot knew not, still it was commonly thought that the Divine

Hathor, the Goddess of Love, was wroth 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. Concerning

her the pilot said that many years ago, some thirty years, she had first appeared in the country, coming none

knew whence, and had been worshipped 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 beheld 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 had 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 goddess; and if she were a woman to stone her with 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. Others again, held that two wizards, leaders of certain slaves

of a strange race, wanderers from the desert, settled in Tanis, whom they called the Apura, caused all these

sorrows by artmagic. As if, forsooth, said the pilot, those barbarian slaves were more powerful than all the

priests of Egypt. But for his part, the pilot knew nothing, only that if the Divine Hathor were angry with the

So the pilot murmured, and his tale was none of the shortest; but even as he spoke the darkness grew 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 was 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, there the Wanderer rested, having a good welcome from the shaven

Strange news flies fast. It was not long before the Pharaoh, who then was with his Court in Tanis, the newly

rebuilded city, heard how there had come to Khem 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 Aquaiusha, as the Egyptians named the Ach�ans, 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 Rameses the Second, and he was beloved both of Meneptah and of Meriamun his

Queen. Him the King charged to visit the Sanctuary and bring the stranger before him. So Rei called for his

When Rei came thither, a priest went before him and led him to the chamber where the warrior chanced to be

eating the lily bread of the land, and drinking the wine of the Delta. He rose as Rei entered, and he was still

clad in his golden armour, for as yet he had not any change of raiment. Beside him, on a bronze tripod, lay his

helmet, the Ach�an helmet, with its two horns and with the bronze spearpoint still fast in the gold.

The eyes of Rei the Priest fell on the helmet, and he gazed so strangely at it that he scarcely heard the

Wanderer's salutation. At length he answered, courteously, but always his eyes wandered back to the broken

"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 spearpoint in it was lent me of late, in return for arrows not a

The ancient priest bade the Temple servants retire, and as they went they heard him murmuring a prayer.

"The Dead spoke truth," he muttered, still gazing from the helmet in his hand to the Wanderer; "ay, the Dead

"My son, thou hast eaten and drunk," then said Rei the Priest and Master Builder, "and may an old man ask

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

artful tale. "I come from Alybas; I am the son of Apheidas, son of Polypemon, and my own name is

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

"It was men of Sidon who laboured and died for all that cargo," said the Wanderer; "they voyaged far for it,

and toiled hard, but they lost it in an hour. For they were not content with what they had, but made me a

prisoner as I lay asleep on the coast of Crete. But the Gods gave me the upper hand of them, and I bring their

captain, and much white metal and many swords and cups and beautiful woven stuffs, as a gift to your King.

Then he led the old man to the treasurechambers of the Temple, which was rich in the offerings of many

travellers, gold and turquoise and frankincense from Sinai and Punt, great horns of carved ivory from the

unknown East and South; bowls and baths of silver from the Khita, who were the allies of Egypt. But amidst

all the wealth, the 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 amber,

from the faroff Northern seas, that was embossed with curious figures of men and gods, and huge fishes,

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

"Thou shalt keep this," he said, "and pledge me in wine from it when I am gone, in memory of a friend and a

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

"We are always children," he said, smiling gravely. "See an old child whom thou hast made happy with a toy.

But we are men too soon again; the 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 from thy helmet before thou comest into

"Pardon me," said the Wanderer. "I would not harm my helmet by tearing it roughly out, and I have no

smith's tools here. The spearpoint, my father, is a witness to the truth of my tale, and for one day more, or

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

"O Amen, in whose hand is the end of a matter, lighten the burden of these sorrows, and let the vision be easy

of accomplishment, and I pray thee, O Amen, let thy hand be light on thy daughter Meriamun, the Lady of

Then the old man led the Wanderer out, and bade the priests make ready a chariot for him; and so they went

through Tanis to the Court of Meneptah. Behind them followed the priests, carrying gifts that the Wanderer

had chosen from the treasures of the Sidonians, and the miserable captain of the Sidonians was dragged along

after them, bound to the hinder part of a chariot. Through the gazing crowd they all passed on to the Hall 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 which she

had no concern. They came in and beat the earth with their brows before the King. First came the officers,

leading the captain of the Sidonians for a gift to Pharaoh, and the King smiled graciously and accepted the

Then came others, bearing the cups of gold fashioned like the heads of lions and rams, and the swords with

pictures of wars and huntings echoed on their blades in manycoloured gold, and the necklets of amber from

the North, which the Wanderer had chosen as gifts for Pharaoh's Queen and Pharaoh. He had silks, too,

embroidered in gold, and needlework of Sidonian women, and all these the Queen Meriamun touched to

show her acceptance of them, and smiled graciously and wearily. But the covetous Sidonian groaned, when

he saw his wealth departing from him, the gains for which he had hazarded his life in unsailed seas. Lastly,

Pharaoh bade them lead the Wanderer in before his presence, and he came 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 had seen what few have seen and lived. The beauty of

youth was gone from him, but his face had the comeliness of a warrior tried on sea and land; the eyes were of

As he entered murmurs of amazement passed over all the company, and all eyes were fixed on him, save only

the weary and wandering eyes of the listless Meriamun. But when she chanced to lift her face, and gaze on

him, they who watch the looks of kings and queens saw her turn grey as the dead, and clutch with her hand at

her side. Pharaoh himself saw this though he was not quick to mark what passed, and he asked her if anything

"Nay, only methinks the air is sick with heat and perfume. Greet thou this stranger." But beneath her robe her

"Welcome, thou Wanderer," cried Pharaoh, in a deep and heavy voice, "welcome! By what name art thou

Bowing low before Pharaoh, the Wanderer answered, with a feigned 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

had smitten them on the seas, he told as he had told it to Rei. And he displayed his helmet with the

spearpoint fast in it. But when she saw this Meriamun rose to her feet as if she would be gone, and then fell

"The Queen, help the Queen, she faints," cried Rei the Priest, whose eyes had never left her face. One of her

ladies, a beautiful woman, ran to her, knelt before her, and chafed her hands, till she came to herself, and sat

"Let be!" she said, "and let the slave who tends the incense be beaten on the feet. Nay, I will remain here, I

Then Pharaoh bade men lead the Sidonian out, and slay him in the marketplace for his treachery; but the

man, whose name was Kurri, threw himself at the feet of the Wanderer, praying for his life. The Wanderer

"A boon, O Pharaoh Meneptah," he cried. "Spare me this man! He saved my own life when the crew would

"Let him be spared, as thou wilt have it so," spoke Pharaoh, "but revenge dogs the feet of foolish mercy, and

Thus it chanced that Kurri was given to Meriamun to be her jeweller and to work for her in gold and silver.

To the Wanderer was allotted a chamber in the Royal Palace, for the Pharaoh trusted that he would be a

As he left the Hall of Audience with Rei, the Queen Meriamun 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 trappings of the horses of

kings. But the Wanderer marked both the sudden fear and the blush of Meriamun, and, beautiful as she was,

he liked it ill, and his heart foreboded evil. When he was alone with Rei, therefore, he spoke to him of this,

and prayed the old man to tell him if he could guess at all the meaning of the Queen.

"For 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 yetbut it is 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 troubled,

and remembering how he had prayed him to pluck the spearpoint 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 into his own room in the Palace, and there he told him all

Rei, the Priest of Amen, the Master Builder, began his story unwillingly enough, and slowly, but soon he

took pleasure in telling it as old men do, and in sharing the burden of a secret.

"She is fair indeed," answered the Wanderer. "I pray that she be well mated and happy on her throne?"

"That 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 may'st help me and her, when thou knowest all. Pharaoh

Meneptah, her lord, the King, is the son of the divine Rameses, the everliving Pharaoh, child of the Sun,

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

"It is the custom of our Royal House, from the days of the Timeless Kings, the children of Horus. An old

"The ways of his hosts are good in the eyes of a stranger," said the Wanderer, courteously.

"It is an old custom, and a sacred," said Rei, "but women, the custom makers, are often custombreakers.

And of all women, Meriamun least loves to be obedient, even to the dead. And yet she has obeyed, and it

came about thus. Her brother Meneptahwho now is Pharaohthe Prince of Kush while her divine father

lived, had many halfsisters, but Meriamun was the fairest of them all. She is beautiful, a Moonchild the

common people called her, and wise, and she does not know the face of fear. And thus it chanced that she

learned, what even our Royal women rarely learn, all the ancient secret wisdom of this ancient land. Except

Queen Taia of old, no woman has known what Meriamun knows, what I have taught herI and another

"I have taught her from childhood," he went on"would that I had been her only familiarand, after her

divine father and mother, she loved me more than any, for she loved few. But of all whom she did not love

she loved her Royal brother least. He is slow of speech, and she is quick. She is fearless and he has no heart

for war. From her childhood she scorned him, mocked him, and mastered him with her tongue. She even

learned to excel him in the chariot racestherefore it was that the King his father made him but a General of

the Foot Soldiersand in guessing riddles, which our people love, she delighted to conquer him. The victory

was easy enough, for the divine Prince is heavy witted; but Meriamun 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 wear the

"It is strange, then, that of all his sisters, if one must be Queen, he should have chosen her," said the

"Strange, and it happened strangely. The Prince's father, the divine Rameses, had willed the marriage. The

Prince hated it no less than Meriamun, but the will of a father is the will of the Gods. In 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 me carve her a new set of the pieces fashioned

with the heads of cats, and shaped from the hard wood of Azebi.[*] I carved them with my own hands, and

"One sunset it chanced that her brother came in from hunting the lion in the Libyan hills. He was in an evil

humour, for he had found no lions, and he caused the huntsmen to be stretched out, and beaten with rods.

Then he called for wine, and drank deep at the Palace gate, and the deeper he drank the darker grew his

"He was going to his own Court in the Palace, striking with a whip at his hounds, when he chanced to turn

and see Meriamun. She was sitting where those three great palmtrees 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 Hathor, the Queen of Love; or

as the Lady Isis when she played at pieces in Amenti with the ancient King. Nay, an old man may say it, there

never was but one woman more fair than Meriamun, if a woman she be, she whom our people call the

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 sought for something 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 her waiting woman, the lady Hataska, gather up the board,

"'Greeting, Princess, our Royal sister,' said Meneptah. 'What art thou doing with these?' and he pointed with

his chariot whip at the catheaded pieces. 'This is no woman's game, these pieces are not soft hearts of men

to be moved on the board by love. This game needs wit! Get thee to thy broidery, for there thou may'st excel.'

"'Greeting, Prince, our Royal brother,' said Meriamun. 'I laugh to hear thee speak of a game that needs wit.

Thy hunting has not prospered, so get thee to the banquet board, for there, I hear, the Gods have granted thee

"'It is little to say,' answered the Prince, throwing himself into a chair whence I had risen, 'it is little to say,

but at the game of pieces I have enough wit to give thee a temple, a priest and five bowmen, and yet

"'I take the challenge,' cried Meriamun, 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

"'High or low, I accept the wager,' answered the Prince. 'This sister of mine has mocked me too long. She

shall find that her woman's wit cannot match me at my 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 wage, Meriamun!'

"'Go then, Prince,' she cried, 'and after sunset meet me in my antechamber. Bring a scribe to score the games;

Rei shall be the judge, and hold the stakes. But beware of the golden Cup of Pasht! Drain it not tonight, lest

"The Prince went scowling away, and Meriamun laughed, but I foresaw mischief. The stakes were too high,

the match was too strange, but Meriamun would not listen to me, 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

"'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 I lose,' she said, 'never may I wear the uraeus crown.'

"'That shalt thou never while I draw breath,' answered the Prince, as he too lifted the symbol of his royalty

from his head and gave it to me. There was a difference between the circlets, the coronet of Meriamun was

crowned with one crested snake, that of the divine Prince was crowned with twain.

"'Ay, Meneptah,' she said, 'but perchance Osiris, God of the Dead, waits thee, for surely he loves those too

great and good for earth. Take thou the field and to the play.' At her words of evil omen, he frowned. But he

"She moved in answer heedlessly enough, and afterwards she played at random and carelessly, pushing the

pieces about with little skill. And so he won this first game quickly, and crying, 'Pharaoh is dead,' swept the

pieces from the board. 'See how I better thee,' he went on in mockery. 'Thine is a woman's game; all attack

"'Boast not yet, Meneptah,' she said. 'There are still two sets to play. See, the board is set and I take the field.'

"This time the game went differently, for the Prince could scarce make a prisoner of a single piece save of

one temple and two bowmen only, and presently it was the turn of Meriamun to cry 'Pharaoh is dead,' and to

sweep the pieces from the board. This time Meneptah did not boast but scowled, while I set the board and the

scribe wrote down the game upon his tablets. Now it was the Prince's turn to take the field.

"'In the name of holy Pasht,' she made answer, 'to whom I make daily prayer.' For, being a maid, she swore

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

"And he played, and so well that for a while the game went against her. But at length, when they had

struggled long, and Meriamun had lost the most of her pieces, a light came into her face as though she had

found what she sought. And while the Prince called for wine and drank, she lay back in her chair and looked

upon the board. Then she moved so shrewdly and upon so deep a plan that 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 promised such a temple as

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

"'Fools seek wit in wine, but only wise men find it,' quoth she again. 'Behold, Royal brother, Pharaoh is dead,

and I have won the match, and beaten thee at thine own game. Rei, my servant, give me that circlet; nay, not

my own, the double one, which the divine Prince wagered. So set it on my brow, for it is mine, Meneptah. In

"And she rose, and standing full in the light of the lamps, the Royal uraeus on her brow, she mocked him,

bidding him come do homage to her who had won his crown, and stretching forth her small hand for him to

kiss it. And so wondrous was her beauty that the divine Prince of Kush ceased to call upon the evil Gods

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

"'Thou shalt be my Queen,' he said, 'and for earnest I will kiss thee. This, at the least, being the strongest, I

can do.' And ere she could escape him, he passed his arm about her and seized her by the girdle, and kissed

"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 had been slain; and she cried as she struck, 'Thus,

"But as it chanced, 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 I will kiss thee yet, whether thou wilt or

"But she laughed softly now that her anger was spent, and I 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 thy divine father destines thee to wed the

"'Nay, Rei, I will none of himthe dull clod, who is called the son of Pharaoh. Moreover, he is my

halfbrother, and it is not meet that I should wed my brother. For nature cries aloud against the custom of the

"'Nevertheless, Lady, it is the custom of thy Royal house, and thy father's will. Thus the Gods, thine

ancestors, were wed; Isis to Osiris. Thus great Thothmes and Amenemhat did and decreed, and all their

forefathers and all their seed. Oh, bethink theeI speak it for thine ear, for I love thee as mine own

daughterbethink 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 and thou

"'Ah, Rei, now thou speakest like the counsellor of those 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 this night: the future lay upon

the board. See, his diadem is upon my brow! At first he won, for I chose that he should win. Well, so mayhap

it shall be; mayhap I shall give myself to himhating him the while. And then the next game; that shall be

for life and love and all things dear, and I shall win it, and mine shall be the uraeus crest, and mine shall be

the double crown of ancient Khem, and I shall rule like Hatshepu, the great Queen of old, for I am strong, and

"'Yes,' I made answer, 'but, Lady, see thou that the Gods turn not thy strength to weakness; thou art too

passionate to be all strength, and in a woman's heart passion is the door by which King Folly enters. Today

"'Love,' she said, gazing scornfully; 'Meriamun loves not till she find a man worthy of her love.'

"'And then she loves to all destruction, and woe to them who cross her path. 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 people of that ancient City of the Rock, whence all our

[*] Probably the mysterious and indecipherable ancient books, which were occasionally excavated in old

Egypt, were written in this dead language of a more ancient and now forgotten people. Such was the book

discovered at Coptos, in the sanctuary there, by a priest of the Goddess. "The whole earth was dark, but the

moon shone all about the Book." A scribe of the period of the Ramessids mentions another indecipherable

ancient writing. "Thou tellest me thou understandest 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 not; this makes me afraid." Birch,

Zeitschrift, 1871, pp. 6164. Papyrus Anastasi I, pl. X. 1. 8, pl. X. 1. 4. Maspero, Hist. Anc., pp. 6667.

"'I go,' she said, and I trembled as she spoke, for no man speaks in this language when he has any good

thought in his heart. 'I go to seek the counsel of That thou knowest,' and she touched the golden snake which

"Then I threw myself on the earth at her feet, and clasped her knees, crying, 'My daughter, my daughter, sin

not this great sin. Nay, for all the kingdom of the world, wake not That which sleepeth, nor warm again into

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

"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 the red swine's mouth of Set gnaw upon them in Amenti; may the Fish of Sebek flesh his

"Why dost thou curse thus, Rei, and who are they that go by?" said the Wanderer. "I hear their tramping and

Indeed there came a light noise of many shuffling feet, pattering outside the Palace wall, and the words of a

"These are the accursed blaspheming conjurors and slaves, the Apura," said Rei, as the music and the

tramping died away. "Their magic is greater than the lore even of us who are instructed, for their leader was

one of ourselves, a shaven priest, and knows our wisdom. Never do they march and sing thus but evil comes

of it. Ere day dawn we shall have news of them. May the Gods destroy them, they are gone for the hour. It

were well if Meriamun the Queen would let them go for ever, as they desire, to their death in the desert, but

There was silence without at last; the clamour and the tread of the Apura were hushed in the distance, dying

far away, and Rei grew calm, when he heard no longer the wild song, and the clashing of the timbrels.

"I must tell thee, Eperitus," he said, "how the matter ended between the divine Prince and Meriamun. She

bowed her pride before her father and her brother: her father's will was hers; she seemed to let her secret

sleep, and she set her own price on her hand. In everything she must be the equal of Pharaohthat was her

price; and in all the temples and all the cities she was to be solemnly proclaimed joint heir with him of the

Upper and Lower Land. The bargain was struck and the price was paid. After that night over the game of

pieces Meriamun was changed. Thenceforth she did not mock at the Prince, she made herself gentle and

"So the time drew on till at length in the beginning of the rising of the waters came the day of her bridal. With

a mighty pomp was Pharaoh's daughter wedded to Pharaoh's son. But her hand was cold as she stood at the

altar, cold as the hand of one who sleeps in Osiris. Proudly and coldly she sat in the golden chariot passing in

and out the great gates of Tanis. Only when she listened and heard the acclaiming thousands cry Meriamun so

loudly that the cry of Meneptah was lost in the echoes of her namethen only did she smile.

"Cold, too, she sat in her white robes at the feast that Pharaoh made, and she never looked at the husband by

"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 I 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

"Presently, as I sat, there came a knocking at the door, and a woman entered wrapped in a heavy cloak. She

"'Heed me not, Rei,' she said, 'I am yet free for an hour; and I would watch thee at thy labour. Nay, 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 thy 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. Ah, Rei,

thou wise man, thine is the better part, for thou buildest in cold enduring stone and attirest thy walls as thy

fancy bids thee. But II 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, Here, in the last

"'Nay, speak not so,' I said, 'for is it not thy bridal night? What dost thou 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 tonight the Royal Meriamun, whom thou lovest. I am lower than she

who plies the street for bread, for the loftier the spirit the greater is the fall. I 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

acold in my breath and in my breast! 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 shamehim, 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 today 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: I, Meriamun, will live to look across his grave and break his images, and beat out

the writings of his name from every temple wall in Khem, as they beat out the hated name of Hatshepu.

"'Nay, touch me not,' she said. 'They were but tears of anger. Meriamun is mistress of her Fate, not Fate of

Meriamun. 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 knewest, 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 footsteps of my throne.

Farewell.' And she gathered up her raiment and cast her white flower of death in the flame of the brazier, and

was gone, leaving me yet sadder at heart. For now I knew that she was not as other women are, but greater for

"On the morrow night I sat again at my task, and again there came a knocking at the door, and again a woman

entered and threw aside her wrappings. It was Meriamun. She was pale and stern, and as I rose she waved me

"'Speak not to me of the Prince, Rei, my servant,' she made answer. 'Yesterday I spoke to thee wildly, my

mind was overwrought; let it be forgottena wife am I, a happy wife'; and she smiled so strangely that I

"'Now to my errand. I have dreamed a dream, a troublous dream, and thou art wise and instructed, therefore I

pray thee interpret 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 heart, and in the light of him I lived, and all my soul was his, and I knew that I

loved him for ever. And Pharaoh was my husband; but, in my dream, I loved him not. Now there came a

woman rising out of the sea, more beautiful than I, with a beauty fairer and more changeful than the dawn

upon the mountains; and she, too, loved this godlike man, and he loved her. Then we strove together for his

love, matching beauty against beauty, and wit against wit, and magic against magic. Now one conquered, and

now the other; but in the end the victory was mine, and I went arrayed as for a marriagebedand I clasped

"'I woke, and again I slept, and saw myself wearing another garb, and speaking another tongue. Before me

was the man I loved, and there, too, was the woman, wrapped about with beauty, and I was changed, and yet I

was the very Meriamun thou seest. And once more we struggled for the mastery and for this man's love, and

"'I slept, and again I woke, and in another land than Khema strange land, and yet methought I knew it from

long ago. There I dwelt among the graves, and dark faces were about me, and I wore That thou knowest for a

girdle. And the tombs of the rock wherein we dwelt were scored with the writings of a dead tonguethe

tongue of that land whence our fathers came. We were all changed, yet the same, and once more the woman

and I struggled for the mastery, and though I seemed to conquer, yet a sea of fire came over me, and I woke

"'Then confusion was piled upon confusion, nor can my memory hold all that came to pass. For this game

played itself afresh in lands, and lives, and tongues without number. Only the last bout and the winner were

"'And in my dream I cried aloud to the protecting Gods to escape out of the dream, and I sought for light that

I might see whence these things were. Then, as in a vision, the Past opened up its gates. It seemed that 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 unspeakable, and vowed a vow that shall endure from time to time

and world to world. For we were not mortal then, but partook of the nature of the Gods, being more fair and

great than any of human kind, and our happiness was the happiness of Heaven. But in our great joy we

hearkened to the Voice of the That thou knowest, of that Thing, Rei, with which, against 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

acold! 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 against us and drew us up into their presence. And while

"'"Ye twain who are one life, each completing each, because with your kisses ye have wakened That which

slept, and with the fire of your love have warmed That which was acold: because ye have forgotten them

"'"From Two be ye made Three, and through all Time strive ye to be Twain again. Pass from this Holy Place

down to the Hell of Earth, and though ye be immortal put on the garments of mortality. Pass on from Life to

Life, live and love and hate and seem to die: have acquaintance with every lot, and in your blind

forgetfulness, being one and 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 rearise, appear to conquer and be conquered, pursuing your

threefold destiny, and, at the word of Fate, the unaltering circle meets, and the veil of blindness falls from

your eyes, and, as a scroll, your folly is unrolled, and the hid purpose of your sorrow is accomplished and

"'"Ye twain who are Onelet 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 adorned with the Star. And we were three. And

between him and me, yet enfolding him and me, writhed that Thing thou wottest of. And he whom I loved

turned to look upon the fair woman, wondering, and she smiled and stretched out her arm towards him as one

who would take that which is her own, and Rei, in that hour, though it was but in a dream, I knew the mortal

pain of jealousy, and awoke trembling. And now read thou this vision, Rei, thou who art learned in the

"'Oh, Lady,' I made answer, 'this thing is too high for me, I cannot interpret it; but where thou art, there may I

"'I know thy love,' she said, 'but in thy words is little light. So solet it pass! It was but a dream, and if

indeed it came from the Under 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 doom upon the mirror of my sleep. For

that which is decreed will surely come to pass! I am blown like the dust by the breath of Fate; now to rest

upon the Temple's loftiest 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. 'Tis 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 I 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, I rule, awaiting the end of rule. Look

forth, Rei, and see how the rays from Mother Isis' throne flood all the courts and all the city's streets and

break in light upon the water's breast. So shall the Moonchild's flame flood all this land of Khem. What

matters it, if ere the morn Isis must pass to her dominion of the Dead, and the voice of Meriamun be hushed

"So she spoke and went thence, and on her face was no bride's smile, but rather such a gaze as that with

"A strange Queen, Rei," said the Wanderer, as he paused, "but what have I to make in this tale of a bride and

"More than thou shalt desire," said Rei; "but let us come to the end, and thou shalt hear thy part in the Fate."

"The Divine Pharaoh Rameses died and was gathered to Osiris. With these hands I closed his coffin and set

him in his splendid tomb, where he shall rest unharmed for ever till the day of the awakening. And Meriamun

and Meneptah reigned in Khem. But to Pharaoh she was very cold, though he did her will in everything, and

"For me, my lot was bettered; she talked much with me, and advanced me to great dignity, so that I was the

"Now it chanced that Meriamun made a feast, where she entertained Pharaoh and Hataska sat beside him. She

was the first lady about the Queen'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 the lady Hataska's hand, but

Meriamun the Queen took no note, though Hataska, who had also drunk of the warm wine of the Lower

Land, grew insolent, as was her wont. She quaffed deep from her cup of gold, and bade a slave bear it to the

"The meaning of her message was plain to all who heard; this waiting lady openly declared herself wife to

Pharaoh and an equal of the Queen. Now Meriamun cared nothing for Pharaoh's love, but for power she did

care, and she frowned, while a light shone in her dark eyes; yet she took 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

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

"Now this foolish woman read her saying wrong, and took the golden cup from the eunuch who bore it.

"With a little nod to the Queen, and a wave of her slim hand, Hataska drank, and instantly, with a great cry,

she fell dead across the board. Then, while all the company sat in terror, neither daring to be silent nor to

speak, and while Meriamun smiled scornfully on the dark head lying low among the roses on the board,

Pharaoh leaped up, mad with wrath, and called to the guards to seize the Queen. But she waved them back,

"'Dare not to touch Khem's anointed Queen lest your fate be as her fate. For thee, Meneptah, forget not thy

marriage oath. What, am I Queen, and shall thy wantons throw their insolence in my teeth and name me their

sister? Not so, for if my eyes be blind yet my ears are open. Peace, she is rightly servedchoose thou a

"And Pharaoh made no answer, for he feared her with an evergrowing fear. But she, sinking back in her seat

of state, played with the gold kepher on her breast, and watched them bear the body forth to the House of

Osiris. One by one all the company made obeisance and passed thence, glad to be gone, till at the last there

were left only Pharaoh and Meriamun the Queen, and myselfRei the Priestfor all were much afraid.

Then Pharaoh spoke, looking neither at her nor at me, and half in fear, half in anger.

"'Thou hateful woman, accursed be the day when first I looked upon thy beauty. Thou hast conquered me, but

beware, for I am still Pharaoh and thy Lord. Cross my purpose once again, and, by Him who sleeps at Phil�,

I will discrown thee and give thy body to the tormentors, and set thy soul loose to follow her whom thou hast

"'Pharaoh, be warned: lift but one finger against my majesty and thou art doomed. Thou canst not slay me,

but I can overmatch thee, and I swear by the same oath! By Him who sleeps at Phil�, lift a hand against 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 Meneptah, do I know of the magic of that Queen Taia who was before

me. Now listendo this one thing and all shall be well. Go on thy path and leave me to follow mine. Queen I

am, Queen I will remain, and in all matters of the State mine must be an equal voice though it is thine that

speaks. And, for the rest, we are apart henceforth, for thou fearest me, and Meneptah, I love not thee, nor any

"'As thou hast spoken, so be it,' quoth Pharaoh, for his heart sank, and his fear came back upon him. 'Evil was

the day when first we met, and this is the price of my desire. Henceforth we are apart in bed and board, but in

the council we are still one, for our ends are one. I know thy power, Meriamun, thou gifted of the evil Gods;

thou needest not fear that I shall seek to slay thee, for a spear cast against the heavens returns on him who

threw it. Rei, my servant, thou art witness to our oaths; hear now their undoing. Meriamun, the Queen of

"'Nay,' she said, gazing after him, 'no more am I Meneptah's wife, but still am I Khem's dreaded Queen. Oh,

thou old priest, I am aweary. See what a lot is mine, who have all things but love, and yet am sick of all! I

longed for power, and power is mine, and what is power? It is a rod wherewith we beat the air that

straightway closes on the stroke. Yes, I tire of my loveless days and of this dull round of common things. 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

"'Nay, 'twas rightly done and well done. But thou knowest she is not yet cold, nor for a while will be, and I

have the art to drag her spirit back ere she be cold, from where she is, and to force knowledge from her

"'Nay, nay,' I cried. 'It is unholynot lightly may we disturb the dead, lest the Guardian Gods be moved to

"'Yet will I do it, Rei. If thou dost fear, come not. But I go. I am fain for knowledge, and thus only may I win

it. If I die in the dread endeavour, write this of Meriamun the Queen: That in seeking the tobe she found

"'Nay, Royal Lady,' I answered, 'thou shalt not go alone. I too have some skill in magic, and perchance can

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, now, the body will this night be laid in the sanctuary of the Temple of Osiris that is near the

great gates, as is the custom, to await the coming of the embalmers. Come ere she be colder than my heart,

"She passed to her chamber, wrapped herself about in a dark robe, and hurried with me to the Temple doors,

"'Rei, the Master Builder and the anointed Priest, and with him another,' I made answer. 'Open.'

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

"I held up the Royal signet, and, bowing, he opened. Being come within the Temple I lit the tapers that had

been prepared. Then by their feeble light we passed through the outer hall till we came to the curtains that

veil the sanctuary of the Holy Place, and here I quenched the tapers; for no fire must enter there, save that

which burns upon the altar of the dead. But through the curtains came rays of light.

"'Open!' said Meriamun, and I opened, and hand in hand we passed in. On the altar that is in the place the

flame burnt brightly. The chamber is not wide and great, for this is the smallest of the temples of Tanis, but

yet so large that the light could not reach its walls nor pierce the overhanging gloom, and by much gazing

scarcely could we discover the outline of the graven shapes of the Holy Gods that are upon the walls. But the

light fell clear upon the great statue of the Osiris that was seated behind the altar fashioned in the black stone

of Syene, wound about with the corpsecloths, wearing on his head the crown of the Upper Land, and

holding in his hands the crook of divinity and the awful scourge of punishment. The light shone all about the

white and dreadful shape that was placed upon his holy knees, the naked shape of lost Hataska who this night

had died at the hand of Meriamun. There she bowed her head against the sacred breast, her long hair

streaming down on either side, her arms tied across her heart, and her eyes, whence the hues of life had

scarcely faded, widely staring at the darkness of the shrine. For at Tanis to this day it is the custom for a night

to place those of high birth or office who die suddenly upon the knees of the statue of Osiris.

"'See,' I said to the Queen, speaking low, for the weight of the haunted place sank into my heart, 'see how she

who scarce an hour ago was but a lovely wanton hath by thine act been clad in majesty greater than all the

glory of the earth. Bethink thee, wilt thou dare indeed to summon back the spirit 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

"'Nay,' she made answer, 'I am instructed. I 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

"'Nay,' I said. 'I also am instructed, and I go not. But I say to thee that this is unholy.'

"Then Meriamun spoke no morebut lifting up her hands she held them heavenwards, and so for a while she

stood, her face fixed, as was the face of dead Hataska. Then, as must be done, I drew the circle round us and

round the altar and the statue of Osiris, and that which sat upon his knee. With my staff I drew it, and

standing therein I said the holy words which should ward away the evil things that come near in such an hour.

"Now Meriamun threw a certain powder into the flame upon the altar. Thrice she threw the powder, and as

she threw it a ball of flame rose from the altar and floated away, each time that 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 spirit of the dead. And when the three

globes of fire had melted into air, passing over the head of the statue of Osiris, thrice did Meriamun cry

"'By the link of life and death that is between thee and me, I bid thee come from where thou art and make

"She ceased, but no answer came. Still the cold Osiris smiled, and still the body on his knee sat with open

"'Not thus easily,' I whispered, 'may this dreadful thing be done. Thou art instructed in the Word of Fear. If

"'Nay, it shall be spoken,' she saidand thus she wrought. Passing to the statue she hid her head within her

"Seeing this I also crouched upon the floor and hid my face, for it is death to hear that Word with an

"Then in so soft a whisper that scarce had its breath stirred a feather on her lips, Meriamun spoke the Word of

Fear which may not be written, whose sound has power to pass all space and open the ears of the dead who

dwell in Amenti. Softly she said it, for in a shout of thunder it was caught up and echoed from her lips, and

down the eternal halls it seemed to rush on the feet of storm and the wings of wind, so that the roof rocked

"'Unveil, ye mortals!' cried a dreadful voice, 'and look upon the sight of fear that ye have dared to summon.'

"And I rose and cast my cloak from about my face and gazed, then sank down in terror. For round about the

circle that I had drawn pressed all the multitude of the dead; countless as the desert sands they pressed,

gazing with awful eyes upon us twain. And the fire that was on the altar died away, but yet was there light,

for it shone from those dead eyes, and in the eyes of lost Hataska there was light.

"And ever the faces changed, never for one beat of time did they cease to change. For as we gazed upon a

face it would melt, even to the eyes, and round these same eyes again would gather but no more the same.

And like the sloping sides of pyramids were the faces set about us from the ground to the Temple roofand

"And I, Rei, being instructed, knew that to suffer myself to be overcome with terror was death, as it was death

to pass without the circle. So in my heart I called upon Osiris, Lord of the Dead, to protect us, and even as I

named the ineffable name, lo! all the thousand thousand faces bent themselves in adoration and then, turning,

looked each upon the other even as though each spake to each, and changed, and swiftly changed.

"'Nay, wherefore should I fear,' she answered, 'because the veil of sense is torn, and for an hour we see those

who are ever about our path and whose eyes watch our most secret thought continually? I fear not.' And she

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

"And as she came the changing faces shrunk away, leaving a space before her. And in the space there grew

two arms, mighty and black, that stretched themselves towards her, until there was not the length of three

"'Not so, thou Enemy,' she said, 'this circle thou may'st not break; it is too strong for thee. But to the work.

Hataska, once again by the link of life and death I summon theeand this time thou must come, thou who

"And as she spoke, from the dead form of the woman on Osiris' knee there issued forth another form and

stood before us, as a snake issues from its slough. And as was the dead Hataska so was this form, feature for

feature, look for look, and limb for limb. But still the corpse rested upon Osiris' knee, for this was but the Ka

"'What wouldest thou with me who am no more of thy company, O thou by whose hand my body did perish?

"And Meriamun made answer: 'I would this of thee, that thou shouldest declare unto me the future, even in

"And the Ka said: 'Nay, Meriamun, that I cannot do, for I am but the Kathe Dweller in the Tomb, the

guardian of what was Hataska whom thou didst slay, whom I must watch through all the days of death till

"Then once more she called upon Hataska and there came a sound of rushing wings. And behold, on the head

of the statue of Osiris sat a great bird, feathered as it were with gold. But the bird had the head of a woman,

and the face was fashioned as the face of Hataska. And thus it spoke, that was the Bai:

"'What wouldest thou with me, Meriamun, who am no more of thy company? Why dost thou draw me from

"And Meriamun said: 'This I would of thee, that thou shouldest declare unto me the future. Speak, I command

"And the Bai said: 'Nay, Meriamun, that I cannot do. I am but the Bai of her who was Hataska, and I fly from

Death to Life and Life to Death, till the hour of awakening is. Of the future I know naught; seek thou that

"'Rest thou where thou art,' quoth the Queen, and there it rested, awful to see.

"Then once more Meriamun called upon Hataska, bidding her hear the summons where she was.

"And behold the eyes of the Dead One that was upon the knee of Osiris glowed, and glowed the eyes of the

Dweller in the Tomb, and of the winged Messenger who sat above. And then there was a sound as the sound

of wind, and from above, cleaving the darkness, descended a Tongue of Flame and rested on the brow of the

dead Hataska. And the eyes of all the thousand thousand spirits turned and gazed upon the Tongue of Flame.

And then dead Hataska spokethough her lips moved not, yet she spoke. And this she said:

"'What wouldest thou with me, Meriamun, who am no more of thy company? Why dost thou dare to trouble

me, thou by whose hand my body did perish, drawing me from the threshold of the Double Hall of Truth,

"And Meriamun the Queen said, 'Oh, thou Khou, for this purpose have I called thee. I am aweary of my days

and I fain would learn the future. The future fain would I learn, but the forked tongue of That which sleeps

tells me no word, and the lips of That which is acold are dumb! Tell me, then, thou, I charge thee by the

word that has power to open the lips of the dead, thou who in all things art instructed, what shall be the

"And the dread Khou made answer: 'Love shall be the burden of thy days, and Death shall be the burden of

thy love. Behold one draws near from out the North whom thou hast loved, whom thou shalt love from life to

life, till all things are accomplished. Bethink thee of a dream that thou dreamedst as thou didst lie on

Pharaoh's bed, and read its riddle. Meriamun, thou art great and thy name is known upon the earth, and in

Amenti is thy name known. High is thy fate, and through blood and sorrow shalt thou find it. I have spoken,

"'It is well,' the Queen made answer: 'But not yet mayest thou go hence. First I command thee, by the word of

dread and by the link of life and death, declare unto me if here upon the earth and in this life I shall possess

"'In sin and craft and sorrow, Meriamun, thou shalt possess him; in shame and jealous agony he shall be taken

from thee by one who is stronger than thou, though thou art strong; by one more beautiful than thou, though

thou art beautiful; and ruin thou shalt give him for his guerdon, and ruin of the heart shalt thou harvest for thy

portion. But for this time she shall escape thee, whose footsteps march with thine, and with his who shall be

thine and hers. Nevertheless, in a day to come thou shalt pay her back measure for measure, and evil for evil.

"'Not yet, O Khounot yet. I have still to learn. Show me the face of her who is mine enemy, and the face of

"'Thrice mayest thou speak to me, O thou greatly daring,' answered the dread 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

"And we looked, and behold the face of dead Hataska changed, and changed the face of the Double, the Ka

that stood on one side, and the face of the great bird, the Bai, that spread his 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 who was watching her

sleeping. And his face we saw not, O thou Wanderer, it was hidden by the visor of a golden twohorned

helm, and in that helm stood fast the bronze point of a broken spear! But he was clad in the armour of the

people of the Northern Sea, the Aquaiusha, and his hair fell dark about his shoulders like the petals of the

"'Behold thine enemy and behold thy love! Farewell,' said the dread Khou, speaking through dead Hataska's

lips, and as the words died the 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

"But for a while Meriamun stood silent, as one amazed. Then, awaking, she waved her hand and cried,

"And the great bird whereof the face was as the face of Hataska spread his golden wings and passed away to

his own place, and the Ka that was 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

"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

"Then Meriamun unveiled, and behold, again the fire burned upon the altar, and on the knees of the Osiris sat

"'Now that all is done, I greatly fear for that which has been, and that which shall be. Lead me hence, O Rei,

"And so with a heavy heart I led her forth, who of all sorceresses is the very greatest. Behold, thou Wanderer,

wherefore the Queen was troubled at the coming of the man in the armour of the North, in whose twohorned

"These things are not without the Gods," said the Wanderer, who was called Eperitus, when he had heard all

the tale 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 eyes and looked upon the old man.

"Thou hast told a strange tale, Rei. Over many a sea have I wandered, and in many a land I have sojourned. I

have seen the ways of many peoples, and have heard the voices of the immortal Gods. Dreams have come to

me and marvels have compassed me about. It has been laid upon me to go down into Hades, that land 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 truth, she deems that she has met me in the ways of

night and magic. Say, then, who was the man of the vision of the Queen, the man with dark and curling locks,

clad in golden armour after the fashion of the Ach�ans whom ye name the Aquaiusha, wearing on his head a

"Before me sits such a man," said Rei, "or perchance it is a God that my eyes behold."

"No God am I," quoth the Wanderer, smiling, "though the Sidonians deemed me nothing less when the black

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 his eyes upward, and with muttering lips prayed to

"Thou 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 of death. This I knew, 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,

"Not thus easily may men escape their doom," quoth the Wanderer. "My death may come, as come it must;

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

"I am come to seek another love," said the Wanderer, "and I seek her till I die."

"Then I pray the Gods that thou mayest find her, and that Khem may thus be saved from sorrow. But here in

Egypt there is no woman so fair as Meriamun, and thou must seek farther as quickly 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

Then he led the Wanderer from his chamber and 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, richly painted with beast headed Gods and furnished with ivory

Then the Wanderer went into the shining baths, and darkeyed girls bathed him and anointed him with

fragrant oil, and crowned him with lotus flowers. When they had bathed him they bade him lay aside his

golden armour and his 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 divine Pharaoh Meneptah, with many lords and ladies of the Court, all crowned with roses

The Queen was decked in Royal attire, her shining limbs were veiled in broidered silk; about her shoulders

was a purple robe, and round her neck and arms were rings of wellwrought gold. She was stately and

splendid to see, with pale brows and beautiful disdainful 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 illmade and heavybrowed, and to the Wanderer it seemed that he was

heavyhearted too, and that care and terror of evil to come were always in his mind.

"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

"Has thy 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 Court with his lyre from the Northern Sea, and he sang of the Bow of

"Minstrel or not, thou does well to come armed, Wanderer," said the Pharaoh; "for if thy bow sings, my own

So he followed her and the Pharaoh till they came to a splendid hall, carven round with images of fighting

and feasting. Here, on the painted walls, Rameses Miamun drove the thousands of the Khita before his single

valour; here men hunted wildfowl through the marshes with a great cat for their hound. Never had the

Wanderer beheld such a hall since he supped with the Sea King of the fairy isle. On the da�s, raised above the

rest, sat the Pharaoh, and by him sat Meriamun the Queen, and by the Queen sat the Wanderer in the golden

Now the feast went on and men ate and drank. The Queen spoke little, but she watched the Wanderer beneath

Suddenly, as they feasted and grew merry, the doors at the end of the chamber were thrown wide, the Guards

fell back in fear, and behold, at the end of the hall, stood two men. Their faces were tawny, dry, wasted with

desert wandering; their noses were hooked like eagles' beaks, and their eyes were yellow as the eyes of lions.

They were clad in rough skins of beasts, girdled about their waists with leathern thongs, and fiercely they

lifted their naked arms, and waved their wands of cedar. Both men were old, one was whitebearded, the

other was shaven smooth like the priests of Egypt. 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 Pharaoh

"By the name of Osiris," he said, "here be those Soothsayers of the Apura once again. Now Death waits on

Then one of the two men, he who was shaven like a priest, cried with a great voice:

"Pharaoh! Pharaoh! Pharaoh! Hearken to the word of Jahveh. Wilt thou let the people go?"

"Pharaoh! Pharaoh! Pharaoh! Hearken to the word of Jahveh. If thou wilt not let the people go, then shall all

the firstborn of Khem, of the Prince and the slave, of the ox and the ass, be smitten of Jahveh. Wilt thou let

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

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

Now Pharaoh's heart was softened and he 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

fearfulever hadst thou a coward heart. Drive the False Hathor thence 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: "Hence! I bid you. Hence, and tomorrow shall your people be laden with a double

burden and their backs shall be red with stripes. I will not let the people go!"

Then the two men cried aloud, and pointing upward with their staffs they vanished from the hall, and none

Now the Wanderer marvelled why Pharaoh did not command the Guards to cut down these unbidden guests,

who spoiled his festival. The Queen 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 oursplagues of lice

and frogs and flies and darkness, and the changing of pure waters to blood. And these things our Lord the

Pharaoh deems have been brought upon us by the curse of yonder magicians, conjurers and priests among

certain slaves who work in the land at the building of our cities. But I know well that the curses come on us

from Hathor, the Lady of Love, because of that woman who hath set herself up here in Tanis, and is

"Why then, O 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

"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 afar. It is not meet that the Queen of all the Lands should worship

at the shrine of a strange woman, comelike thyself, Eperitusfrom none knows where: if indeed she be a

woman and not a fiend from the Under World. But if thou wouldest learn more, ask my Lord the Pharaoh, for

he knows the Shrine of the False Hathor, and he knows who guard it, and what is it that bars the way."

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

"I will tell thee readily, thou Wanderer, for perchance such a man as thou, who hast travelled in many lands

and seen the faces of many Gods, may understand the tale, and may help me. In the days of my father, the

holy Rameses Miamun, the keepers of the Temple of the Divine Hathor awoke, and lo! in the Sanctuary of

the temple was a woman 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 loveliness. 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 embraced 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 offerings of food and drink to her, and prayers. So

three years passed, and at the end of the third year the keepers of the temple looked and the Hathor was gone.

Nothing remained of her but a memory. Yet there were some who said that this memory was dearer than all

"Twenty more seasons went by, and I sat upon the throne of my father, and was Lord of the Double Crown.

"'Now is Hathor come back to Khem, now is Hathor come back to Khem, and, as of old, none may draw near

her beauty!' Then I went to see, and lo! before the Temple of Hathor a great multitude was gathered, and

there on the pylon brow stood the Hathor's self shining with changeful beauty like the Dawn. And as of old

she sang sweet songs, and, to each man who heard, her voice was the voice of his own beloved, 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 beauty. 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 and press him back; and if he

still struggles 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."

"Thou alone of men lovest life more than the World's Desire!" 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 back again by that which guards her. But some will yet strive madly on, and thou

wilt hear the clash of arms and they 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 mad conjurers, come plagues, I say, and all evil things. And till a man be found who may

pass her guard, and come face to face with the witch and slay her, plagues and woes and evil things shall be

the daily bread of Khem. Perchance, Wanderer, thou art such a man," and she looked on him 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

"Perchance, Lady, my strength and the favour of the Gods might serve me in such a quest. But methinks that

this woman is meeter for words of love and the kisses of men than to be slain with the sharp sword, if, indeed,

"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

Now the Wanderer saw that the Lady Meriamun was jealous of 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.

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 again. 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 pleasure in this banquet. Suddenly a sidedoor opened behind the da�s, 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 in the feasts of Egypt an effigy 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! Drink, and be

glad." The stiff, swathed figure, with its folded hands and gilded face, was brought before the Pharaoh, and

Meneptah, who had sat long in sullen brooding silence, started when he looked on it. Then he broke into an

"We have little need of thee tonight," he cried, as he saluted the symbol of Osiris. "Death is near enough, we

He fell back in his gilded chair, and let the cup drop from his hand, gnawing at 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 tonight that we first hear the name of Death? Remember the great Menkaura, remember the old

Pharaoh who built the Pyramid of Hir. He was just and 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 tonight, 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 love and wine in the lamplit groves of persea trees. Come, my guests, let us be merry,

"For once thou speakest well," said the King. "Drink and forget; the Gods who give Death give wine," and his

"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 Pasht!" he cried to them who waited, "bring forth the cup of Pasht, the

Then the chief butler of Pharaoh went to the treasurehouse, 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

"Fill it full of unmixed wine!" cried the King. "Dost thou grow pale at the sight of the cup, thou Wanderer

"Nay, King," said the Wanderer, "I have tasted wine of Ismarus before today, and I have drunk with a wild

host, the oneeyed Man Eater!" For his heart was angered by the King, and he forgot his wisdom, but the

"I pray thee, pardon me," said the Wanderer, "for wine makes wise men foolish and strong men weak, and

"Craven!" cried the King, "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

He took the cup, and held it high; then pouring a little forth to his Gods, he said, in a clear voice, for he was

He spoke, and drained the mighty cup, and set it down on the board, and even as he laid down the cup, and as

the Queen looked at him with eyes of wrath, there came from the bow beside his seat a faint shrill sound, a

ringing and a singing of the bow, a noise of 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,

"The minstrel's tale was true! This is none other but the Bow of Odysseus, the sacker of cities," said

Meriamun. "Hearken thou, Eperitus, thy great bow sings aloud. How comes it that thy bow sings?"

"For this cause, Queen," said the Wanderer; "because birds gather on the Bridge of War. Soon shall shafts be

flying and ghosts go down to doom. Summon thy Guards, I bid thee, for foes are near."

Terror conquered the drunkenness of Pharaoh; he bade the Guards who stood behind his chair summon all

their company. They went forth, and a great hush fell again upon the Hall of Banquets and upon those who

sat at meat therein. The silence grew deadly still, like air before the thunder, and men's hearts sank within

them, and turned to water in their breasts. Only Odysseus wondered and thought on the battle to be, though

whence the foe might come he knew not, and Meriamun sat erect in her ivory chair and looked down the

Deeper grew the silence and deeper yet, and more and more the cloud of fear gathered in the hearts of men.

Then suddenly through all the hall there was a rush like the rush of mighty wings. The deep foundations of

the Palace rocked, and to the sight of men the roof above seemed to burst asunder, and lo! above them,

against the distance 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 looked with

white faces, each on each, and even the stout heart of the Wanderer stood still.

Then suddenly all down 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 across the floor. The Wanderer grasped his bow and counted.

From among those who sat at meat twenty and one had fallen dead. Yet those who 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

But Meriamun looked down the hall with cold eyes, for she feared neither Death nor Life, 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 grew, the thunder of myriad feet that run before the death of kings. Then the

doors burst asunder and a woman sped through them in her night robes, and in her arms she bore the naked

"Pharaoh!" she cried, "Pharaoh, and thou, O Queen, look upon thy son thy firstborn sondead is thy son,

O Pharaoh! Dead is thy son, O Queen! In my arms he died suddenly as I lulled him 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

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, hath 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 Hathor, it is

the Gods of those dark Apura whom thou, O 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 shriek 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 with fear, and in fear of heart he prayed

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, and their jaws hung down. But at the sound of the clanging

of their harness the strength of the Wanderer came back to him again, for the Gods and their vengeance he

feared, but not the sword of man. And now once more the bow sang aloud. He grasped it, he bent it with his

Then the Captain answered, "These be all of the Guard who are left living in the Palace. The rest are stark,

Now as the Captain spake, one came running up the hall, heeding neither the dead nor the living. It was the

old priest Rei, the Commander of the Legion of Amen, who had been the Wanderer's guide, and his looks

"Hearken, Pharaoh!" he cried, "thy people lie dead by thousands in the streetsthe houses are full of dead.

"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 the Pharaoh will not let the Apura go. Hither, then, they

come to slay the Pharaoh, and thee also, O Queen, and with them come many thousands of people, catching

"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 not so palefaced now death

So great was his mien and so glorious his face as he cried thus, and one 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 da�s in a double line. Then they also made ready their bows and loosened the

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 behind 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 tonight, 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 hands, and the fisher from the stream; and the stunted weaver from the loom, and the

leper from the Temple gates. They were mad with lust of life, a starveling life that the King had taxed, when

he let not the Apura go. They were mad with fear of death; their women followed them with dead children in

their arms. They smote down the golden furnishings, they tore the silken hangings, they cast the empty cups

of the feast at the faces of trembling ladies, and cried aloud for the blood of the King.

"Where is Pharaoh?" they yelled, "show us Pharaoh and the Queen Meriamun, that we may slay them. Dead

are our first born, they lie in heaps as the fish lay when Sihor ran red with blood. Dead are they because of the

curse that has been brought upon us by the prophets of the Apura, whom Pharaoh, and Pharaoh's Queen, yet

Now as they cried they saw Pharaoh Meneptah cowering behind the double line of Guards, 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 the body of the child to her breast, she stood before them with eyes that flashed more

"Back!" she cried, "back! It is not Pharaoh, it is not I, who have brought this death upon you. For we too have

death here!" and she held 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

her head is all this death. Go, tear her temple stone from stone, and rend her beauty limb from limb and be

A moment the people stood and hearkened, muttering as stands the lion that is about to spring, while those

who pressed without cried: "Forward! Forward! Slay them! Slay them!" Then as with one voice they

"The Hathor we love, but you we hate, for ye have brought these woes 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, and swift and true it sped towards

her. She saw the light gleam upon its shining barb, and then she did what no woman but Meriamun would

have done, no, not to save herself from deathshe held out the naked body of her son as a warrior holds a

shield. The arrow struck through and through it, piercing the tender flesh, aye, and pricked her breast beyond,

The Wanderer saw it and wondered at the horror of the deed, for he had seen no such deed in all his days.

Then shouting aloud the terrible warcry of the Ach�ans he leapt upon the board before him, and as he leapt

Glancing around, he fixed an arrow to the string and drew to his ear that great bow which none but he might

so much as bend. Then as he loosed, the string sang like a swallow, and the shaft screamed through the air.

Down the glorious hall it sped, and full on the breast of him who had lifted bow against the Queen the bitter

arrow struck, nor might his harness avail to stay it. Through the body of him it passed and with bloodred

feathers flew on, and smote another who stood behind him so that his knees also were loosened, and together

Now while the people stared and wondered, again the bowstring sang like a swallow, again the arrow

screamed in its flight, and he who stood before it got his death, for the shield he bore was pinned to his breast.

Then wonder turned to rage; the multitude rolled forward, and from either side the air grew dark with arrows.

For the Guards at the sight of the shooting of the Wanderer found heart and fought well and manfully. Boldly

also the slayers came on, and behind them pressed many a hundred men. The Wanderer's golden helm flashed

steadily, a beacon in the storm. Black smoke burst out in the hall, the hangings flamed and tossed in a wind

from the open door. The lights were struck from the hands of the golden images, arrows stood thick in the

tables and the rafters, a spear pierced through the golden cup of Pasht. But out of the darkness and smoke and

dust, and the cry of battle, and through the rushing of the rain of spears, sang the swallow string of the 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 the temple roofs, but as

driving snow upon the wild stag's horns. They struck, they rattled, and down they dropped like snow, or

The swallow string sang, the black bow twanged, and the bitter arrows shrieked as they flew.

Now the Wanderer's shafts were spent, and he judged that their case was desperate. For out of the doors of

the hall that were behind them, and from the chambers of the women, armed men burst in also, taking them

on the flank and rear. But the Wanderer 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 da�s, and within the circle he set those of the house of Pharaoh and the

women who were at the feast. And to Pharaoh he cast a slain man's sword, bidding him strike for life and

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 snatched the sword 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

Now the slayers came on, shouting and clambering upon the da�s. 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 saw, as it were,

three blades aloft at once, and the silverhafted sword bit deep, the gift of Ph�acian Euryalus long ago. The

Guards also smote and thrust; it was for their lives they fought, and back rolled the tide of foes, leaving a

swathe of dead. 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 wellnigh spent. But the Wanderer cheered

them with great words, though his heart grew fearful for the end; and Meriamun the Queen also bade them to

be of good courage, and if need were, to die like men. Then once again the wave of War rolled in upon them,

and the strife grew fierce and desperate. The iron hedge of spears was wellnigh broken, and now the

Wanderer, doing such deeds as had not been known in Khem, stood alone between Meriamun the 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

Then he who smote stayed 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,

"It is the Wizardsthe Wizards of the Apura," men cried, and shrunk this way and that, thinking no more on

The ancient men drew nigh. They took no heed of the dying or the dead: on they walked, through blood and

"Pharaoh! Pharaoh! Pharaoh!" they cried again. "Dead are the first born of Khem at the hand of Jahveh.

"Get you goneyou and all that is yours. Get you gone swiftly, and let Khem 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 the

sword, and the dead who died of the pestilence. Silence fell, and sleep, and the Gods' best gift

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 Sidonians, 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

hammers beating on metal. There, in the shadow which the Palace wall cast into a little court, there was the

Wanderer; no longer in his golden mail, but with bare arms, and dressed in such a light smock as the

The Wanderer 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 shoulderplates of his armour. The other pieces were heaped beside the brazier. Kurri, the

"Hail to thee, Eperitus," cried Rei, calling him by the name he had chosen to give himself. "What makest thou

"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, which was deeply scarred across the blazon of the White Bull, the

Kurri crouched on his hams and blew the blaze to a white heat with a pair of leathern bellows, while the

Wanderer fitted the plates and hammered at them on the anvil, making the jointures smooth and strong,

"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

For the thought of the �olian isle, where King �olus gave him all the winds in a bag, came into his memory.

"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

"Or the work of war," said Rei. "For there I have seen thee labour. Now, listen, thou Wanderer, the King

Meneptah and the Queen Meriamun send me to thee with this scroll of their will," and he drew forth a roll of

papyrus, bound with golden threads, and held it on his forehead, bowing, as if he prayed.

"What is that roll of thine?" said the Wanderer, who was hammering at the bronze spearpoint, that stood fast

Rei undid the golden threads and opened the scroll, which he gave into the Wanderer's hand.

"Gods! What have we here?" said the Wanderer. "Here are pictures, tiny and cunningly drawn, serpents in

red, and little figures of men sitting or standing, axes and snakes and birds and beetles! My father, what

"The King has made his Chief Scribe write to thee, naming thee Captain of the Legion of Pasht, the Guard 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

"Never have I served any man," said the Wanderer, flushing red, "though I went near to being sold and to

"I would fain find her I came to seek, wherever she may be," said the Wanderer. "Here or otherwhere."

"Time brings thought," said the Wanderer; "I would see the city if thou wilt guide me. Many cities have I

seen, but none so great as this. As we walk I will consider my answer to your King."

He had been working at his helm as he spoke, for the rest of his armour was now mended. He had drawn out

the sharp spearhead of bronze, and was balancing it in his hand and trying its edge.

"A good blade," he said; "better was never hammered. It went near to doing its work, Sidonian," and he

turned to Kurri as he spoke. "Two things of thine I had: thy life and thy spearpoint. Thy life I gave thee, thy

spearpoint thou didst lend me. Here, take it again," and he tossed the spearhead to the Queen's Jeweller.

"I thank thee, lord," answered the Sidonian, thrusting it in his girdle; but he muttered between his teeth, "The

The Wanderer did on his mail, set the helmet on his head, and spoke to Rei. "Come forth, friend, and show

But Rei was watching the smile on the face of the Sidonian, and he deemed it cruel and crafty and warlike,

like the laugh of the Sardana of the sea. He said nought, but called a guard of soldiers, and with the Wanderer

The sight was strange, and it was not thus that the old man, who loved his land, would have had the Wanderer

From all the wealthy houses, and from many of the poorer sort, rang the wail of the women mourners as they

But in the meaner quarters many a hovel was marked with three smears of blood, dashed on each pillar of the

door and on the lintel; and the sound that came 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 the 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. Empty they went out, laden they came in, dark men and women 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.

"Lend me thy staff, old man," he said, sneering; "lend me thy jewelled staff for my journey. I do but borrow

"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 Yak�b wins

"What passes now in this haunted land of thine, old man?" said the Wanderer, "for of all the sights that I have

seen, this is the strangest. None lifts a hand to save his goods from the thief."

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

Even as he spoke there came a great lady weeping, for her husband was dead, and her son and her brother, all

were gone in the breath of the pestilence. She was of the Royal House, and richly decked with gold and

jewels, and the slaves who fanned her, as she went to the Temple of Ptah to worship, wore gold chains upon

Then, without a word, she took her gold bracelets and chains and rings, and let them all fall in a heap at her

"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 overseers. Where now is thy husband and thy son

But of all sights the Wanderer held this strangest, and many such there were to see. At first he would have

taken back the spoil and given it to those who wore it, but Rei the Priest prayed him to forbear, lest the curse

should strike 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 husbandthat night the groom of her and of

death. Here the fierce faced Apura, clamouring like gulls, tore the silver trinkets from the children of those

of the baser sort, or the sacred amulets from the mummies of those who were laid out for burial, and here a

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 face of the water. Though not 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 lotusheaded staff and the holy token of life, and her neck was encircled

"Here dwells that Strange Hathor to whom thou didst drink last night, Eperitus," said Rei the Priest. "It was a

wild pledge to drink before the Queen, who swears that she brings these woes on Khem. Though, indeed, she

is guiltless of this, with all the blood on her beautiful head. The Apura and their apostate sorcerer, whom we

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 MasterBuilder, 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 who 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. Then 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 of the Royal House who sat at the feast with Pharaoh.

"But when will the Lady Hathor sing upon her tower top?" said Rei, "for the Stranger desires to see her and

"On the third morn from now the Holy Hathor shows herself upon the temple's top," he said; "but thou,

mighty lord, who art risen from the sea, hearken to my warning, and if, indeed, thou art no god, dare not to

look upon her beauty. If thou dost look, then thy fate shall be as the fate of those who have looked before, and

"No god am I," said the Wanderer, laughing, "yet, perchance, I shall dare to look, and dare to face whatever it

"Then there shall be an end of thee and thy wanderings," said the priest. "Now follow me, and I will show

He took him by the hand and led him through passages hewn in the walls till they came to a deep and gloomy

cell, where the golden armour of the Wanderer shone like a lamp at eve. The cell 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 fashioned of bronze, and in the baths lay dusky shapes of darkskinned men of Egypt. There they lay,

and in the faint light their limbs were being anointed by some sadfaced attendants, as folk were anointed by

merry girls in the shining baths of the Wanderer's home. When Rei and Eperitus came near, the sadfaced

bathmen shrank away in shame, as dogs shrink from their evil meat at night when a traveller goes past.

Marvelling at the strange sight, the bathers and the bathed, the Wanderer looked more closely, 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

"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 they 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

"Truly," quoth the Wanderer, "I left the world of Light behind me when I looked on the bloodred sea and

sailed into the black gloom off Pharos. More evil sights have I seen in this haunted land than in all the cities

"Then be warned," said the priest, "for if thou dost follow where they went, and desire what they desired,

thou too shalt lie in yonder bath, and be washed of yonder waters. For whatever be false, this is true, that he

The Wanderer looked again at the dead and at their ministers, and he shuddered till his harness rattled. He

feared not the face of Death in war, or on the sea, but this was a new thing. Little he loved the sight of the

brazen baths and those who lay there. The light of the sun and the breath of air seemed good to him, and he

stepped quickly from the chamber, while the priest smiled to himself. But when he reached the outer air, his

heart came back to him, and he began to ask again about the Hathorwhere she dwelt, and what it was that

"I will show thee," answered the priest, and brought him through the Hall of Assembly to a certain narrow

way that led to a court. In the centre of the court stood the holy shrine of the Hathor. It was a great 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 so to the inner

"Yonder, Stranger, the holy Goddess dwells within the Alabaster Shrine," said the priest. "By that stair she

passes to the temple roof, and thence to the pylon top. There by the curtains, once in every day, we place

food, and it is drawn 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 the 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 curtains. But before they pass the curtains they are thrust back,

yet they strive to pass. Then we hear a sound of the clashing of weapons and the men fall dead without a

"That we know not, Stranger; no man has lived to tell. Come, draw near to the door of the shrine and hearken,

maybe thou wilt hear the Hathor singing. Have no fear; thou needst not approach the guarded space."

Then the Wanderer drew near with a doubting heart, but Rei the Priest stood afar off, though the temple

priests came close enough. At the curtains they stopped and listened. Then from within the shrine there came

a sound of singing wild and sweet and shrill, and the voice of it stirred the Wanderer strangely, bringing to

his mind memories of that Ithaca of which he was Lord and which he should see no more; of the happy days

of youth, and of the Godbuilt walls of windy Ilios. But he could not have told why he thought on these

"Hearken! the Hathor sings as she weaves the doom of men," said the priest, and as he spoke the singing

Then the Wanderer took counsel with himself whether he should then and there burst the doors and take his

fortune, or whether he should forbear for that while. But in the end he determined to forbear and see with his

So he drew back, wondering much; and, bidding farewell to the aged priest, he went with Rei, the Master

Builder, through the town of Tanis, where the Apura were still spoiling the people of Khem, 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 bronze. 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, and on to the da�s which he had

held against the rabble, for the place was clear of dead, and, save for certain stains upon the marble floor that

might not be washed away, and for some few arrows that yet were fixed high up in the walls or in the lofty

roof, there was 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 so

many whom they loved, and the shame and sorrow that had fallen upon Khem. But there were no tears for her

one child in the eyes of Meriamun the Queen. Anger, not grief, tore her heart because Pharaoh had let the

Apura go. For ever as they sat at the sad feast there came a sound of the tramping feet of armies, and of

lowing cattle, and songs of triumph, sung by ten thousand voices, and thus they sang the song of the

Thus they sang, and the singing was so wild that the Wanderer craved leave to go and stand at the Palace

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

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 armed with pikes, and the torchlight

shone on the glitter of bronze and on the gold helms of which they had spoiled the soldiers of Khem. Next

came a troop of wild women, dancing, and beating timbrels, and singing the triumphant hymn of scorn.

Next, with a space between, tramped eight strong blackbearded men, bearing on their shoulders a great

"It is the body of their Prophet, who brought them hither out of their land of hunger," whispered Meriamun.

"Slaves, ye shall hunger yet in the wilderness, and clamour for the fleshpots of Khem!"

Then she cried in a loud voice, for her passion overcame her, and she prophesied to those who bare the coffin,

"Not one soul of you that lives shall see 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

So she cried and pointed down the way, and so fierce was her gaze, and so awful were her words, that the

The Wanderer watched the Queen and marvelled. "Never had woman such a hardy heart," he mused; "and it

"They will sing no more at my gates," murmured Meriamun, with a smile. "Come, Wanderer; they await us,"

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

"Thou art a coward, Meneptah, ay, a coward and a slave at heart. In thy fear of the curse that the False Hathor

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 Rameses Miamun, the hammer of the Khita. Now they are gone hissing curses

on the land that bare them, and robbing those who nursed them up while they were yet a little people, as a

"I know not the Gods of this land," he answered. "If these people be favoured of the Gods, I say sit still. But

if not," then said the Wanderer, wise in war, "let Pharaoh 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

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

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

at last he sprang to his feet and swore by Amen, by Osiris, by Ptah, and by his fathergreat Ramesesthat

he would follow after the Apura and smite them. And instantly he sent forth messengers to summon the

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 march.

"Thou hast not yet answered my message that Rei carried to thee this morning. Wilt thou take service with

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 or nay, Meriamun the Queen, who was not minded that he

"This is my counsel, Meneptah, that the Lord Eperitus should abide here in Tanis and be the Captain of my

Guard while thou art gone to smite the Apura. For I may not be here unguarded in these troublous times, and

if I know he watches over me, he who is so mighty a man, then I 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 and try new

adventures was always his delight. So he answered that if it were pleasing to Pharaoh and the Queen he

would willingly stay and command the Guard. And Pharaoh said that it should be so.

At midday on the morrow Pharaoh and the host of Pharaoh marched in pomp from Tanis, taking the road that

runs across the desert country towards the Red Sea of Weeds, the way that the Apura had gone. The

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 host. The number of the soldiers of Pharaoh amazed the Ach�an, 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 fourth 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 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 none know, swear to me that thou wilt guard Meriamun the Queen faithfully, and wilt work

no woe upon me nor open my house while I am afar. Great thou art and beautiful to look on, ay, and strong

enough beyond the strength of men, yet my heart misdoubts me of thee. For methinks thou art a crafty man,

"If this be thy mind, Pharaoh," said the Wanderer, "leave me not in guard of the Queen. And yet methinks I

did not befriend thee so ill two nights gone, when the rabble would have put thee and all thy house to the

Now Pharaoh looked on him long and doubtfully, then stretched out his hand. The Wanderer 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 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

"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 will keep my oath." And he bowed before Pharaoh, and leaping from his chariot entered again

"Leave us not, Wanderer." For he looked so glorious in his golden armour that it seemed to them as though a

His heart was with them, for he loved war, and he did not love the Apura. But he drove on, as so it must be,

That night he sat at the feast by the side of Meriamun 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 sweetscented lamps, furnished with couches of ivory and gold, while all the walls told painted stories

of 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 to sit guard 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 darkeyed Queen, and he looked upon her guardedly, for she was strangely fair to see, the

"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 this minstrel of the North and his songs.

"Minstrels will be lying, Lady," he said, "and they gather old tales wherever they go. Paris may have worn

my arms, or another man. I bought them from a chapman in Crete, and asked nothing of their first master. As

for Ilios, I fought there in my youth, and served the Cretan Idomeneus, but I got little booty. To the King the

Meriamun listened to his tale, which he set forth roughly, as if he were some blunt, grumbling swordsman,

and darkly she looked on him while she hearkened, and darkly she smiled as she looked.

"A strange story, Eperitus, a strange story truly. Now tell me thus. How camest thou by yonder great bow, the

bow of the swallow string? If my minstrel spoke truly, it was once the Bow of Eurytus of �chalia."

Now the Wanderer glanced round him like a man taken in ambush, who sees on every hand the sword of foes

"The bow, Lady?" he answered readily enough. "I got it strangely. I was cruising with a cargo of iron on 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, trulya very strange story," quoth Meriamun 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. Knowest thou, Eperitus, that when thou stoodest yonder on the board

in the Place of Banquets, when the great bow twanged and the long shafts hailed down on the hall and

loosened the knees of many, not a little was I put in mind of the song of the slaying of the wooers at the

hands of Odysseus. The fame of Odysseus has wandered faray, even to Khem." And she looked straight at

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 could not fight a hundred, as the story went.

The Queen half rose from the couch where she lay curled up like a glittering snake. Like a snake she rose and

"Strange, indeedmost strange that Odysseus, Laertes' son, Odysseus of Ithaca, should not know the tale of

the slaying of the wooers by Odysseus' 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

"Men say that this Odysseus wandered years ago into the North, and that this time he will not come again. I

"I have always heard," said the Queen, "that Odysseus was double tongued and crafty as a fox. Look me in

the eyes, thou Wanderer, look me in the eyes, and I will show thee whether or not thou art Odysseus," and

she leaned forward so that her hair wellnigh swept his brow, and gazed deep into his eyes.

Now the Wanderer was ashamed to drop his eyes before a woman's, and he could not rise and go; so he must

needs gaze, and as he gazed his head grew strangely light and the blood quivered in his veins, and then

"Now turn, thou Wanderer," said the voice of the Queen, and to him it sounded far away, as if there was a

So he turned and looked towards the dark end of the chamber. But presently through the darkness stole a faint

light, like the first grey light of the dawn, and now he saw a shape, like the shape of a great horse of wood,

and behind the horse were black square towers of huge stones, and gates, and walls, and houses. Now he saw

a door open in the side of the horse, and the helmeted head of a man look out wearily. 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 forth from the 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.

So once more he looked into the darkness, and there he saw the mouth of a cave, and beneath two 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 shed: for she was a Goddess, Calypso, the

daughter of Atlas. Then in the vision the man looked up, and his face was weary, and worn and sick for

Then he remembered how he had sat thus at the side of Calypso of the braided tresses, on that last night of all

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 heap of ashes, and the charred bones of men. Before the heap lay the figure of

one lost in sorrow, for his limbs writhed upon the ground. Anon the man lifted his face, and behold! the

Then of a sudden the gloom passed away from the chamber, and once more his blood surged through his

"Yea, Queen, the most strange of sights. Tell me of thy courtesy how thou didst conjure them before my

"By the magic that I have, Eperitus, I above all wizards who dwell in Khem, the magic whereby I can read all

the past of thoseI love," and again she looked upon him; "ay, and call it forth from the storehouse of dead

time and make it live again. Say, whose face was it that thou didst look uponwas it not the face of

Now the Wanderer saw that there was no escape. Therefore he spoke the truth, not because he loved it, but

"The face of Odysseus of Ithaca it was that I saw before me, Lady, and that face is mine. I avow myself to be

The Queen laughed aloud. "Great must be my strength of magic," she said, "for it can strip the guile from the

subtlest of men. Henceforth, Odysseus, thou wilt know that the eyes of Meriamun the Queen see far. Now tell

The Wanderer took swift counsel with himself. Remembering that dream of Meriamun of which Rei the

Priest had told him, and which she knew not that he had learned, the dream that showed her the vision of one

whom she must love, and remembering the word of the dead Hataska, he grew afraid. For he 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 her

love, both because of his oath to Pharaoh and because of her whom Aphrodite had shown to him in Ithaca,

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, "I will tell thee all! I came to Ithaca from the white north, where a curse had driven me; I

came and found my halls desolate, and my people dead, and the very ashes of my wife. But in a dream of the

night I saw the Goddess whom I have worshipped little, Aphrodite of Idalia, whom in this land ye name

Hathor, and she bade me go forth and do her will. And for reward she promised me that I should find one

Meriamun heard him so far, but no further, for of this she made sure, that she was the woman whom

Aphrodite had promised to the Wanderer. Ere he might speak another word she glided to him like a snake,

and like a snake curled herself about him. Then she spoke so low that he rather knew her thought than heard

"Was it indeed so, Odysseus? Did the Goddess indeed send thee to seek me out? Know, then, that not to thee

alone did she speak. I also looked for thee. I also waited the coming of one whom I should love. Oh, heavy

have been the days, and empty was my heart, and sorely through the years have I longed for him who should

be brought to me. 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 that 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 pleasureon the other a broken oath, and the loss for ever of the

Heart's Desire. For to love another woman, as he had been warned, was to lose Helen. But again, if he

scorned the Queennay, for all his hardihood he dared not tell her that she was not the woman of his vision,

the woman he came to seek. Yet even now his cold courage and his cunning did not fail him.

"Lady," he said, "we both have dreamed. But if thou didst dream thou wert my love, thou didst wake to find

"I woke to find myself the wife of Pharaoh," she echoed, wearily, and her arms uncurled from his neck and

she sank back on the couch. "I am Pharaoh's wife in word, but not in deed. Pharaoh is nothing to me, thou

"Yet is my oath much to me, Queen Meriamunmy oath and the hospitable hearth," the Wanderer made

"Then will we talk again. And now, Lady, thy safety calls me to visit thy Guard." And without more words he

"A strange man," she said in her heart, "who builds a barrier with his oath betwixt himself and her he loves

and has wandered so far to win! Yet methinks I honour him the more. Pharaoh Meneptah, my husband, eat,

"Swift as a bird or a thought," says the old harper of the Northern Sea. The Wanderer's thoughts in the

morning were swift as night birds, flying back and brooding over the things he had seen and the words he had

heard in the Queen's chamber. Again he stood between this woman and the oath which, of all oaths, was the

worst to break. And, indeed, he was little tempted to break it, for though Meriamun was beautiful and wise,

he feared her love and he feared her magic art no less than he feared her vengeance if she were scorned.

Delay seemed the only course. Let him wait till the King returned, and it would go hard but he found some

cause for leaving the city of Tanis, and seeking through new adventures the World's Desire. The mysterious

river lay yonder. He would ascend the river of which so many tales were told. It flowed from the land of the

blameless �thiopians, the most just of 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 the Fates permitted, he might find the

If the Fates permitted: but all the adventure was 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

bloodred sea to the shores of Khem, so he should wade through blood to that shore of Fate which the Gods

Yet after a while he shook sorrow from him, arose, bathed, anointed himself, combed his dark locks, and

girded on his golden armour. For now he remembered that this was the day when the Strange Hathor should

stand upon the pylon of the temple and call the people to her, and he was minded to look upon her, and if

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 as 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 stamp 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. In this he saw the hand of the

Goddess, and knew that if she 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 off, and who has

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

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

"Whither goest thou, Eperitus?" asked Rei, the instructed Priest. "And what is it that has made thy face so

"'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 bloodred sea into the night."

"Sell thou the secret of this sleep to the ladies of Khem," answered the aged priest, smiling, "and little shalt

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

"I go up to the Temple of the Hathor, for thou dost remember it is today that she stands upon the pylon brow

"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 to my slaying. There

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, EperitusI pray thee go not up. I love theeI know not whyand am little minded to see thee dead.

Though, perchance," he added, as though to himself, "it would be well for those I serve if thou wert dead,

"Have no fear, Rei," said the Wanderer, "as it is doomed so shall I die and not otherwise. Never shall it be

told," he murmured in his heart, "that he who stood in arms against Scylla, the Horror of the Rock, turned

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 Wanderer passed out through the city, and Rei went

with him 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 Hathor, and down this road hurried a multitude of

men of all races and of every age. Here the prince 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 man led by a hound. And with each man came women: the wife of the man,

or his mother, or his sisters, or she to whom he was vowed in marriage. Weeping they came, and with soft

"Oh, my son! my son!" cried a woman, "hearken to thy 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 I 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, thou art the dearest of all; ever have I loved thee and tended thee. Come back, I praycome back."

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

"Oh, my husband, my husband!" cried another, young, of gentle birth, and fair, who bare a babe on her left

arm and with the right clutched her lord's broidered robe. "Oh, my husband, have I not loved thee and been

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

Rois, though thou didst love her first? See, here is thy babe, thy babe, but one week born. Even from my bed

of pain have I risen and followed after thee down these weary roads, and I am like to lose my life for it. Here

is thy babe, let it plead with thee. Let me die if so it must be, but go not thou up to thy death. It 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 I 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 been crushed by the chariots, had not the Wanderer borne her to one side of

Now, of all sights this was the most dreadful, for on every side rose the prayers and lamentations of women,

"Now thou seest the power of Love, and how if a woman be but beautiful enough she may drag all men to

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

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

Now they were come to the space before the bronze gates of the pylon of the outer court, and there the

multitude gathered to the number 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

"Whoso would enter into the court and look upon the Holy Hathor let him draw nigh. Know ye this, all men,

the Hathor is to him who can win her. But if he pass not, then 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 to win her, and of bodies seven hundred and two lie within the

vaults, for of all these men Pharaoh Meneptah alone hath gone back living. Yet there is place for more! Enter,

Now there arose a mighty wailing from the women. They clung madly about the necks of those who were

dear to them, and some clung not in vain. For the hearts of many failed them at the last, and they shrank from

entering in. But a few of those who had already looked upon the Hathor from afar, perchance a score in all,

"Surely thou wilt not enter in?" quoth Rei, clinging to the arm of the Wanderer. "Oh, turn thy back on death

Then Rei the Priest threw dust upon his head, wept aloud, and turned and fled, never stopping till he came to

Now the priest unbarred a wicket in the gates of bronze, and one by one those who were stricken of the

madness entered in. For all of 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 blindfolded, and of these one was that

man whose wife had fainted by the way, and the other was a man sightless from his youth. For although he

might not see the beauty of the Goddess, this man was made mad by the sweetness of her voice. Now, when

all had entered in, save the Wanderer, there was a stir in the crowd, and a man rushed up. He was

travelstained, he had a black beard, black eyes, and a nose hooked like a vulture's beak.

"Hold!" he cried. "Hold! Shut not the gates! Night and day have I journeyed from the host of the Apura who

fly into the wilderness. Night and day have I journeyed, leaving wife and flocks and children and the Promise

of the Land, that I may once more look upon the beauty of the Hathor. Shut not the gates!"

"Pass in," said the priest, "pass in, so shall we be rid of one of those whom Khem nurtured up to rob her."

He entered; then, as the priest was about to bar the wicket, the Wanderer strode forward, and his golden

"Wouldst thou indeed enter to thy doom, thou mighty lord?" asked the priest, for 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

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

"Go to, thou madman, go to! and die the death," they answered, and led all the men to the centre of the

courtyard whence they might see the pylon top. Then the priests also covered up their eyes and cast

themselves at length upon the ground; so for a while they lay, and all was silence within and without the

court, for they waited the coming of the Hathor. The Wanderer glanced through the bars of bronze at the

multitude gathered there. Silent they stood with upturned eyes, even the women had ceased from weeping

and stood in silence. He looked at those beside him. Their bandaged faces were lifted and they stared towards

the pylon top as though their vision pierced the cloths. The blind man, too, stared upward, and his pale lips

moved, but no sound came from them. Now at the foot of the pylon lay 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 high in the blue heaven straight above the pylon brow. Then suddenly

and from afar there came a faint sweet sound of singing, and at the first note of the sound a great sigh went up

through the quiet air, from all the multitude without. Those who were near the Wanderer sighed also, and

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

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

woman's self, and at her coming all were once more silent. She was tall and straight, clad in clinging white,

but on her breast there glowed a bloodred 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. Her 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 her eyes as though to hide the brightness of her beauty. For, indeed, she could not be called beautiful

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 first love whom every man has lost. And all about her rolled a glorylike the glory of the dying

day. Sweetly she sang a song of promise, and her voice was the 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:

Dreams haunt the hapless bed, Ghosts haunt the night, Life crowns her living head, Love and Delight. Nay,

not a dream nor ghost, Nay, but Divine, She that was loved and lost Waits to be thine!

Then the Wanderer saw that those beside him tore at the bandages about their brows and rent them loose.

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 stretching out her arms as though to clasp those beneath, showed all the

The Wanderer looked, then dropped his eyes as one who has seen the brightness 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, which

"See! see!" shouted one. "Look at her hair; it is dark as the raven's wing, and her eyesthey are dark as

"See! see!" cried another, "were ever skies so blue as those eyes of hers, was ever foam so white as those

"Even so she looked whom once I wed many summers gone," murmured a third, "even so when first I drew

her veil. Hers was that gentle smile breaking like ripples on the water, hers that curling hair, hers that

"Was ever woman so queenly made?" said a fourth. "Look now on the brow 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,

"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! I know what all the world journeys on to seek,

The clamour swelled or sank, and the men called or cried the names of many women, some dead, some lost.

Others were mute, silent in the presence 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. He

alone waited and strove to think; the rest were abandoned to the bewilderment of their passions and their

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. Was he to pass the

unmarked boundary, to force those guarded gates and achieve where all had failed? 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

He sighed and looked again. Lo! in his charmed sight a fair girl seemed to stand upon the pylon brow, and on

He knew her now. He had seen her thus at the court of King Tyndareus as he drove in his chariot through the

Again he sighed and again he looked. Now in his charmed sight a woman sat, whose face was the face of the

He saw her and he knew her. So he had seen her in Troy towers when he stole thither in a beggar's guise from

She stood upon the pylon's brow. She stood with arms outstretched, with eyes upturned, and on her shining

face there was a smile like the infinite smile of the dawn. Oh, now indeed he knew the shape that was

Beauty's selfthe innocent Spirit of Love sent on earth by the undying Gods to be the doom and the delight

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

Then once more she sang, and as she sang, slowly drew herself away, till at length nothing was left of the

Now the silence died away, and again madness came upon those who had listened and looked. The men

without the wall once more hurled themselves against the gates, while the women clung to them, shrieking

curses on the beauty of the Hathor, 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 within which stood the alabaster shrine of the Hathor. Some flung themselves

upon the ground and clutched at it, as in dreams men fling themselves down to be saved from falling into a

pit that has no bottom. Yet as in such an evil slumber the dreamer is drawn inch by inch to the mouth of the

pit by an unseen hand, so 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 dragged along by a rope. For of those who thus entered the outer court and

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 the sound of the same

"Draw near! Draw near!" 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 go, and to see how it fared with

The worshippers were now hurrying back and now darting onwards, as fear and longing seized them, till the

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

"Do ye fear?" he cried. "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 midair, and there came a hollow sound as of a smitten shield, and the staff that dealt the

blow was shattered. Then there was a noise like the noise of clashing swords, and the man instantly sank

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

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

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

And now man after man rushed on, to be first hurled back and then slain of the clashing swords. And at

"Wilt thou indeed rush on to doom, thou glorious man? Thou hast seen the fate of many. Be warned and turn

"Never did I turn from man or ghost," said the Wanderer, and drawing his short sword he came near, warily

covering his head with his broad shield, while the priests stood back to see him die. Now, the Wanderer had

marked that none were touched till they stood at the very threshold of the doorway. Therefore he uttered a

prayer to Aphrodite and came on slowly till his feet were within a bow's length of the threshold, 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 sweet 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,

Now the song died away, and the Wanderer once more bethought him of the Wardens of the Gate and of the

battle which he must fight. But as he braced himself to rush on against the unseen foe the music of the

singing swelled forth again, and whether 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

Once more the sweet singing died away, but as the Wanderer grasped his sword and fixed the broad shield

upon his arm he remembered the dream of Meriamun 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 seek each

other's face. And now it seemed that the burden of the song was the burden of the dream.

Then he thought no more on 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

seagirt 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 way, and invisible arms seized him to hurl

him back. But no weakling was the Wanderer, thus to be pushed aside by magic, but the stoutest man left

alive in the whole world now that Aias, Telamon's son, was dead. The priests wondered as they saw how he

gave back never a step, for all the might of the Wardens of the Gate, but lifted his short sword and hewed

down so terribly that fire leapt from the air where the short sword fell, the good short sword of Euryalus the

Ph�acian. Then came the clashing of the swords, and from all the golden armour that once the godlike Paris

wore, ay, from buckler, helm, and greaves, and breastplate the sparks streamed up as they stream from the

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 miracle the

viewless Wardens of the Gate smote at the Wanderer, and the Wanderer smote at them again. Then of a

sudden he knew this, that they who barred the path were gone, for no more blows fell, and his sword only cut

But as the curtains swung behind him the singing rose again upon the air, and he might not move, but stood

fixed with his eyes gazing where, far up, a loom was set within the shrine. For the sound of the singing came

from behind the great web gleaming in the loom, the sound of the song of Helen as she heard the swords

clash and the ringing of the harness of those whose knees were loosened in death. It was thus she sang:

Now the song died, and the Wanderer looked up, and before him stood three shadows of mighty men clad in

armour. He gazed upon them, and he knew the blazons painted on their shields; he knew them for heroes long

"Hail to thee," cried the Wanderer, "Theseus, �geus' son! Once before didst thou go down into the House of

Hades, and alive thou camest forth again. Hast thou crossed yet again the stream of Ocean, and dost thou live

in the sunlight? For of old I sought thee and found thee not in the House of Hades?"

The semblance of Theseus answered: "In the House of Hades I abide this day, and in the fields of asphodel.

But that thou seest is a shadow, sent forth by Queen Persephone, to be the guard of the beauty of Helen."

"Hail to thee, Pirithous, Ixion's son," cried the Wanderer again. "Hast thou yet won the dread Persephone to

be thy love? And why doth Hades give his rival holiday to wander in the sunlight, for of old I sought thee,

"In the House of Hades I 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 he goes I go, and our very shadows are not sundered; but

"Hail to thee, Aias, Telamon's son," cried the Wanderer. "Hast thou not forgotten thy wrath against me, for

the sake of those accursed arms that I won from thee, the arms of Achilles, son of Peleus? For of old in the

House of Hades I spoke to thee, but thou wouldst not answer one word, so heavy was thine anger."

Then the semblance of Aias made answer: "With iron upon iron, and the stroke of bronze on bronze, would I

answer thee, if I were yet a living man and looked upon the sunlight. But I smite with a shadowy spear and

slay none but men foredoomed, and I am the shade of Aias who dwells in Hades. Yet the Queen Persephone

"Tell me, ye shadows of the sons of heroes, is the way closed, and do the Gods forbid it, or may I that am yet

Then each of the three nodded with his head, and smote once upon his shield, saying:

Now when the shadows had spoken thus, they grew dim and vanished, and the Wanderer, as they had

commanded, drew slowly up on the alabaster shrine, till at length he stood on the hither side of the web upon

the loom. It was a great web, wide and high, and hid all the innermost recesses of the shrine. Here he waited,

As he stood wondering thus his 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:

Now the song sobbed itself away, but the heart of the Wanderer echoed to its sweetness as a lyre moans and

For a while he stood thus, hidden by the web upon the loom, while his limbs shook like the leaves of the tall

poplar, 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 who sang, and he seized the web upon the loom, and rent it with a

great rending noise, so that it fell down on either side of him, and the gold coils rippled at his feet.

The torn web fellthe last veil of the Strange Hathor. It fell, and all its unravelled threads of glittering gold

and scarlet rippled and coiled about the Wanderer'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 was all undone.

But there, white in the silvery dusk of the alabaster shrine, there was the visible Helen, the bride and the

There shone that fabled loveliness of which no story was too strange, of which all miracles seemed true.

There, her hands folded on her lap, her head bowedthere 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

Helen sat in a chair of ivory, gleaming even through the sunshine of her outspread hair. She was clothed in

soft folds of white; on her breast gleamed the Starstone, the red stone of the seadeeps that melts in the

sunshine, but that melted not on the breast of Helen. Moment by moment the red drops from the ruby heart of

the star fell on her snowy raiment, fell and vanished,fell and vanished,and left no stain.

The Wanderer looked on her face, but the beauty and the terror of it, as she raised it, were more than he could

bear, and he stood like those who saw the terror and the beauty of that face which changes men to stone.

For the lovely eyes of Helen stared wide, her lips, yet quivering with the last notes of song, were wide open

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 instant summons of doom.

For a moment the sight of her terror made even the Wanderer afraid. What was the horror she beheld in this

haunted shrine, where was none save themselves alone? What was with them in the shrine?

Then he saw that her eyes were fixed on his golden armour which Paris once had worn, on the golden shield

with the blazon of the White Bull, on the golden helm, whose visor was down so that it quite hid his eyes and

"Paris! Paris! Paris! Has Death lost hold of thee? Hast thou come to drag me back to thee and to shame?

Paris, dead Paris! Who gave thee courage to pass the shadows of men whom on earth thou hadst not dared to

A thought came into that crafty mind of the Wanderer's, and he answered her, not in his own voice, but in the

smooth, soft, mocking voice of the traitor, Paris, whom he had heard forswear himself in the oath before Ilios.

"So, lady, thou hast not yet forgiven Paris? Thou weavest the ancient web, thou singest the ancient

"Why art thou come back to taunt me?" she said, and now she spoke as if an old familiar fear and horror were

laying hold of her and mastering her again, after long freedom. "Was it not enough to betray me in the

"In love all arts are fair," he answered in the voice of Paris. "Many have loved thee, Lady, and they are all

dead for thy sake, and no love but mine has been more strong than death. There is none to blame us now, and

none to hinder. Troy is down, the heroes are white dust; only Love lives yet. Wilt thou not learn, Lady, how a

She had listened with her head bowed, but now she leaped up with blazing eyes and face of fire.

"Begone!" she said, "the heroes are dead for my sake, and to my shame, but the shame is living yet. Begone!

Never in life or death shall my lips touch the false lips that lied away my honour, and the false face that wore

For it was by shapeshifting and magic art, as poets tell, that Paris first beguiled Fair Helen.

Then the Wanderer spoke again with the sweet, smooth voice of Paris, son of Priam.

"As I passed up the shrine where thy glory dwells, Helen, I heard thee sing. And thou didst sing of the waking

of thy heart, of the arising of Love within thy soul, and of the coming of one for whom thou dost wait, whom

thou didst love long since and shalt love for ever more. And as thou sangest, I came, I Paris, who was thy

love, and who am thy love, and who alone of ghosts and men shall be thy love again. Wilt thou still bid me

"I sang," she answered, "yes, as the Gods put it in my heart so I sang for indeed it seemed to me that one

came who was my love of old, and whom alone I must love, alone for ever. But thou wast not in my heart,

thou false Paris! Nay, I will tell thee, and with the name will scare thee back to Hell. He was in my heart

whom once as a maid I saw driving in his chariot through the ford of Eurotas while I bore water from the

well. He was in my heart whom once I saw in Troy, when he crept thither clad in beggar's guise. Ay, Paris, I

will name him by his name, for though he is long dead, yet him alone methinks I loved from the very first,

and him alone I shall love till my deathlessness is doneOdysseus, son of Laertes, Odysseus of Ithaca, he

was named among men, and Odysseus was in my heart as I sang and in my heart he shall ever be, though the

Now when the Wanderer heard her speak, and heard his own name upon her lips, and knew that the Golden

Helen loved him alone, it seemed to him as though his heart would burst his harness. No word could he find

She lookedshe saw and knew him for Odysseuseven Odysseus of Ithaca. Then in turn she hid her eyes

"Oh, Paris! ever wast thou false, but, ghost or man, of all thy shames this is the shamefullest. Thou hast taken

the likeness of a hero dead, and thou hast heard me speak such words of him as Helen never spoke before. Fie

on thee, Paris! fie on thee! who wouldest trick me into shame as once before thou didst trick me in the shape

of Menelaus, 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. Odysseus! Odysseus! Come thou from the shades and smite this Paris, this

She ceased, and with eyes upturned and arms outstretched murmured, "Odysseus! Odysseus! Come."

Slowly the Wanderer drew near to the glory of the Golden Helen slowly, slowly he came, till his dark eyes

"Helen! Argive Helen!" he said, "I am no shadow come up from Hell to torment thee, and of Trojan Paris I

know nothing. For I am Odysseus, Odysseus of Ithaca, a living man beneath the sunlight. Hither am I come

to see thee, hither I am come to win thee to my heart. For yonder in Ithaca Aphrodite visited me in a dream,

and bade me wander out upon the seas till at length I found thee, Helen, and saw the Red Star blaze upon thy

breast. And I have wandered, and I have dared, and I have heard thy song, and rent the web of Fate, and I

have seen the Star, and lo! at last, at last! I find thee. Well I saw thou knewest the arms of Paris, who was thy

husband, and to try thee I spoke with the voice of Paris, as of old thou didst feign the voices of our wives

when we lay in the wooden horse within the walls of Troy. Thus I drew the sweetness of thy love from thy

secret breast, as the sun draws out the sweetness of the flowers. But now I declare myself to be Odysseus,

clad in the mail of ParisOdysseus come on this last journey to be thy love and lord." And he ceased.

"Well do I remember," she said, "that when I washed the limbs of Odysseus, in the halls of Ilios, I marked a

great white scar beneath his knee. If indeed thou art Odysseus, and not a phantom from the Gods, show me

Then the Wanderer smiled, and, resting his buckler against the pillar of the loom, drew off his golden greave,

and there was the scar that the boar dealt with his tusk on the Parnassian hill when Odysseus was a boy.

"Look, Lady," he said; "is this the scar that once thine eyes looked on in the halls of Troy?"

"Yea," she said, "it is the very scar, and now I know that thou art no ghost and no lying shape, but Odysseus'

Now the Wanderer wavered no more, but put out his arms to gather her to his heart. Now the Red Star was

hidden on his breast, now the red drops dripped from the Star upon his mail, and the face of her who is the

World's Desire grew soft in the shadow of his helm, while her eyes were melted to tears beneath his kiss. The

Softly she sighed, softly drew back from his arms, and her lips were opened to speak when a change came

over her face. The kind eyes were full of fear again, as she gazed where, through the window of the shrine of

alabaster, the sunlight flickered in gold upon the chapel floor. What was that which flickered in the sunlight?

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 fear;

there was even a smile on her lips and mirth in her eyes as she turned and spoke again.

"Odysseus, thou art indeed the cunningest of men. Thou hast stolen my secret by thy craft; who save thee

would dream of craft in such an hour? For when I thought thee Paris, and thy face was hidden by thy helm, I

called on Odysseus in my terror, as a child cries to a mother. Methinks I have ever held him dear; always I

have found him ready at need, though the Gods have willed that till this hour my love might not be known,

nay, not to my own heart; so I called on Odysseus, and those words were wrung from me to scare false Paris

back to his own place. But the words that should have driven Paris down to Hell drew Odysseus to my breast.

And now it is done, and I will not go back upon my words, for we have kissed our kiss of troth, before the

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 ghosts depart, for no more need they guard the

beauty of Helen. It is given to thee to have and keep, and now is Helen once more a very woman, for at thy

kiss the curse was broken. Ah, friend! since my lord died in pleasant Laced�mon, what things have I seen

and suffered by the Gods' decree! But two things I will tell thee, Odysseus, and thou shalt read them as thou

mayest. Though never before in thy lifedays did thy lips touch mine, yet I know that not now for the first

time we kiss. And this I know also, for the Gods have set it in my heart, that though our love shall be short,

and little joy shall we have one of another, yet death shall not end it. For, Odysseus, I am a daughter of the

Gods, and though I sleep and forget that which has been in my sleep, and though my shape change as but now

it 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 off day from day. For thou shalt live again, Odysseus, as

thou hast lived before, and life by life we shall meet and love till the end is come."

As the Wanderer listened he thought once more of that dream of Meriamun the Queen, which the priest Rei

had told him. But he said nothing of it to Helen; for about the Queen and her words to him it seemed wisest

"Life by life thou shalt find me, Odysseus, in this shape or in that shalt thou find mefor beauty has many

forms, and love has many namesbut thou shalt ever find me but to lose me again. I tell thee that as but now

thou wonnest thy way through 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, might never love in turn. I knew then,

Odysseus, that I am but the instrument of the Gods, who use me for their ends. And I knew that I loved thee,

and thee only, but with a love that began before the birthbed, and shall not be consumed by the funeral

"So be it, Lady," said the Wanderer, "for this I know, that never have I loved woman or Goddess as I love

thee, who art henceforth as the heart in my breast, that without which I may not live."

"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 I go on my last voyaging, and that death comes upon me from the water, the

swiftest death that may be. This then I would dare to ask: When shall we twain be one? For if the hours of life

Now Helen's golden hair fell before her eyes like the bride's veil, and she was silent for a time. Then she

"Not now, and not while I dwell in this holy place may we be wed, Odysseus, for so should we call down

upon us the hate of Gods and men. Tell me, then, where thou dwellest in the city, and I will come to thee.

Nay, it is not meet. Hearken, Odysseus. Tomorrow, one hour before the midnight, see that thou dost stand

without the pylon gates of this my temple; then I will pass out to thee as well I may, and thou shalt know me

by the jewel, the Starstone on my breast that shines through the darkness, and by that alone, and lead me

whither thou wilt. For then thou shalt be my lord, and I will be thy wife. And thereafter, as the Gods show us,

so will we go. For know, it is in 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. "Tomorrow 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 return again. For he

"Of that we will talk hereafter. Go now! Go swiftly, for here we may not talk more of earthly love," said the

Then he took her hand and kissed it and passed from before her glory as a man amazed.

Rei the Priest had fled with what speed he might from the Gates of Death, those gates that guarded the

loveliness of Helen and opened only upon men doomed to die. The old man was heavy at heart, for he loved

the Wanderer. Among the dark children of Khem he had seen none like this Ach�an, none so goodly, so

strong, and so well versed in all arts of war. He remembered how this man had saved the life of her he loved

above all womenof Meriamun, the moonchild, the fairest queen who had sat upon the throne of Egypt,

the fairest and the most learned, save Taia only. He bethought him of the Wanderer's beauty as he stood upon

the board while the long shafts hailed down the hall. Then he recalled the vision of Meriamun, which she had

told him long years ago, and the shadow in a golden helm which watched the changed Hataska. The more he

thought, the more he was perplexed and lost in wonder. What 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

So Rei hasted on, stumbling in his speed, till he came to the Palace and passed through its halls towards his

chamber. At the entrance of her own place he met Meriamun the Queen. There she stood in the doorway like

a picture in its sculptured frame, nor could any sight be more beautiful than she was, clad in her Royal robes,

and crowned with the golden snakes. Her black hair lay soft and deep on her, and her eyes looked strangely

"I go about my business, Queen," he answered, "and I am sad because no tidings come of Pharaoh, nor of

"Perchance thou speakest truth, and yet not all the truth," she answered. "Enter, I would have speech with

So he entered, and at her command seated himself before her in the very seat where the Wanderer had sat.

Now, as he sat thus, of a sudden Meriamun the Queen slid to her knees before him, and tears were in her eyes

and her breast was shaken with sobs. And while he wondered, thinking that she wept at last for her son who

was dead among the firstborn, she hid her face in her hands upon his knees, and trembled.

"What ails thee, Queen, my fosterling?" 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 not find

words. And he caressed the beautiful Imperial head, that no man had seen bowed before. "What is it, my

"Hear me, old friend, who art my only friendfor if I speak not my heart will surely burst; or if it break not,

my brain will burn and I shall be no more a Queen but a living darkness, where vapours creep, and wandering

lights shine faintly on the ruin of my mind. Mindest thou that hourit was the night after the hateful night

that saw me Pharaoh's wifewhen I crept to thee and told thee the vision that had come upon my soul, had

"I mind it well," said Rei; "it was a strange vision, nor might my wisdom interpret it."

"And mindest thou what I told thee of the man of my visionthe glorious man whom I must love, he who

was clad in golden armour and wore a golden helm wherein a spearpoint of bronze stood fast?"

"And how is that man named?" she asked, whispering and staring on him with wide eyes. "Is he not named

Eperitus, the Wanderer? And hath he not come hither, the spearpoint in his helm? And is not the hand of

Fate upon me, Meriamun? Hearken, Rei, hearken! I love him as it was fated I should love. When first I

looked on him as he came up the Hall of Audience in his glory, I knew him. I knew him 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 life and work each other's woe upon the earth. I knew

him, Rei, though he knew me not, and I say that my soul shook at the echo of his step, and my heart

blossomed as the black earth blossoms when after flood Sihor seeks his banks again. A glory came upon me,

Rei, and I looked back through all the mists of time and knew him for my love, and I looked forward into the

depths of time to be and knew him for my love. Then I looked on the present hour, and naught could I see but

darkness, and naught could I hear but the groans of dying men, and a shrill sound as of a woman singing."

"Ay, an ill tale, Rei, but half untold. Hearken again, I will tell thee all. Madness hath entered into me from the

Hathor of Atarhechis, the Queen of Desire. I am mad with love, even I who never loved. Oh, Rei! Rei! I

would win this man. Nay, look not so sternly on me, it is Fate that drives me on. Last night I spoke to him

and discovered to him the name he hides from us, his own name, Odysseus, Laertes' son, Odysseus of Ithaca.

Ay, thou startest, but so it is. I learned it by my magic, and wrung the truth even from the guile of the most

crafty of men. But it seemed to me that he turned from me, though this much I won from him, that he had

The priest leaped up from his seat. "Lady!" he cried, "Lady! whom I serve and whom I have loved from a

child, thy brain is sick, and not thy heart. Thou canst not love him. Dost thou not remember that thou art

Queen of Khem and Pharaoh's wife? Wilt thou throw thy honour in the mire to be trampled by a wandering

"Ay," she answered, "I am Queen of Khem and Pharaoh's wife, but never Pharaoh's love. Honour! Why dost

thou prate to me of honour? Like Nile in flood, my love hath burst the bulwark of my honour, and I mark not

where 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 me rather how I may win my hero to my

"Thou art mad indeed," he groaned; "neverthelessI had forgotten this must needs end in words and

tears. Meriamun, I bring thee tidings. He whom thou desireth is lost to thee for everto thee and all the

She heard, then sprang from the couch and stood over him like a lioness over a smitten stag, her fierce and

"Is he dead?" she hissed in his ear. "Dead! and I knew it not? Then thou hast murdered him, and thus I avenge

With the word she snatched a dagger from her girdlethat same dagger with which she had once struck at

Meneptah her brother, when he would have kissed herand high it flashed above Rei the Priest.

"Nay," she went on, letting the knife fall; "after another fashion shalt thou diemore slowly, Rei, yes, more

slowly. Thou knowest the torment of the palmtree? By that thou shalt die!" She paused, and stood above

him with quivering limbs, and breast that heaved, and eyes that flashed like stars.

"Stay! stay!" he cried. "It is not I who have slain this Wanderer, if he indeed is dead, but his own folly. For he

is gone up to look upon the Strange Hathor, and those who look upon the Hathor do battle with the Unseen

Swords, and those who do battle with the Unseen Swords must lie in the baths of bronze and seek the Under

The face of Meriamun grew white at this word, as the alabaster of the walls, and she cried aloud with a great

"How may I save him? How may I save him from that accursed witch? Alas! It is too latebut at least I will

know his end, ay, and hear of the beauty of her who slays him. Rei," she whispered, not in the speech of

Khem, but in the dead tongue of a dead people, "be not wrath with me. Oh, have pity on my weakness. Thou

"I am instructed," he answered, in the same speech; "'twas I who taught thee this art, I, and that Ancient Evil

"Trueit was thou, Rei. Thou hast ever loved me, 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

"An ill deed, Meriamun, and a fearful," he answered, "for there shall my Spirit meet them who watch the

gates, and who knows what may chance when the bodiless one that yet hath earthly life meets the bodiless

"Yet wilt thou dare it, Rei, for love of me, as being instructed thou alone canst do," she pleaded.

"Never have I refused thee aught, Meriamun, nor will I say thee nay. This only I ask of theethat if my

Spirit comes back no more, thou wilt bury me in that tomb which I have made ready by Thebes, and if it may

be, by thy strength of magic wring me from the power of the strange Wardens. I am preparedthou knowest

He sank back in the carven couch, and looked upwards. Then Meriamun drew near to him, gazed into his

eyes and whispered in his ear in that dead tongue she knew. And as she whispered the face of Rei grew like

Then the lips of Rei answered her, saying: "I am loosed, Meriamun. Whither shall I go?"

"I see a man clad in golden armour. He stands with buckler raised before the doorway of the shrine, and

before him are the ghosts of heroes dead, though he may not see them with the eyes of the flesh. From within

Then the loosed Spirit of Rei the Priest told Meriamun the Queen all the words of the song that Helen sang.

And when she heard and knew that it was Argive Helen who sat in the halls of Hathor, the heart of the Queen

grew faint within her, and her knees trembled. Yet more did she tremble when she learned those words that

rang like the words she herself had heard in her vision long agotelling of bliss that had been, of the hate of

Now the song ended, and the Wanderer went up against the ghosts, and the Spirit of Rei, speaking with the

lips of Rei, told all that befell, while Meriamun hearkened with open earsay, and cried aloud with joy

Then once more the sweet voice rang 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 between 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 craft of him 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

And the Spirit of Rei answered: "Her face is that beauty which gathered like a mask upon the face of dead

Hataska, and upon the face of the Bai, and the face of the Ka, when thou spakest with the spirit of her thou

Now Meriamun groaned aloud, for she knew that doom was on her. Last of all, she heard the telling of the

loves of Odysseus and of Helen, her undying foe, of their kiss, of their betrothal, and of that marriage which

should be on the morrow night. Meriamun the Queen said never a word, but when all was done and the

Wanderer had left the shrine again, she whispered in the ear of Rei the Priest, and drew back his Spirit to him

He awoke and saw the Queen sitting over against him with a face white as the face of the dead, and about her

"What 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," she said, "but this I will tell thee. He of whom we spoke hath

passed the ghosts, he hath met with the False Hathorthat accursed womanand he returns here all

Rei departed, wondering and heavy at heart, and Meriamun the Queen passed into her bedchamber, and

there she bade the eunuchs suffer 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 deadtill 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 her passion fanned it, and now waning black and dull as the tears fell from her eyes.

For now she knew allthat the long foreboding, sometimes dreaded, sometimes desired, and again, like a

dream, half forgotten, was indeed being fulfilled. She knew of the devouring love that must 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 great cities, the centre of all desire, whose life was the daily doom of men.

Meriamun was beautiful, but her beauty paled before the face of Helen, as a fire is slain by the sun. Magic

she had also, more than any who were on the earth; but what would her spells avail against the magic of those

changing eyes? And it was Helen whom the Wanderer came to seek, for her he had travelled the wide lands

and sailed the seas. But when he told her of one whom he desired, one whom he sought, she had deemed that

At that thought she laughed out, in the madness of her anger and her shame. And he had smiled and spoken of

Pharaoh her lordand the while he spoke he had thought not on her but of the Golden Helen. Now this at

least she swore, that if he might not be hers, never should he be Helen's. She would see him dead ere that

To what counsel should she turn? On the morrow night these two meet; 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 poison he might die, and Kurri the Sidonian should be charged to give the cup. And then she

would slay Kurri, saying that he had poisoned the Wanderer because of his hate and the loss of his goods and

freedom; and yet how could she slay her love? If once she slew him then she, too, must die and seek her joy

What, then, should she do? No answer came into her heart. There was one that must answer in her soul.

Now she rose from the bed and stood for awhile staring into the dark. Then she groped her way to a place

where there was a carven chest of olivewood and ivory, and drawing a key from her girdle she opened the

chest. Within were jewels, mirrors, and unguents in jars of alabaster ay, and poisons of deadly bane; but

she touched none of these. Thrusting her hand deep into the chest, she drew forth a casket of dark metal that

the people deemed unholy, a casket made of "Typhon's Bone," for so they call grey 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 trembled on her lips,

as she murmured in the tongue of a dead people. Then slowly the lid opened of itself, 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 Meriamun looked, and shuddered as she looked. Yet she put her hand into the box, and muttering

"Come forthcome 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 as a live ember glows among the ashes of the hearth.

Red it glowed and green, and white, and livid blue, and its shape, as it lay upon her hand, was the shape of a

"Minded I am to let thee sleep, thou Horror," she murmured. "Twice have I looked on thee, and I would look

no more. Nay, I will dare it, thou gift of the old wisdom, thou frozen fire, thou sleeping Sin, thou living Death

Thereon she unclasped the bosom of her robe and laid the gleaming toy, that seemed a snake of stone, upon

her ivory breast, though she trembled at its icy touch, for it was more 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 pangs of childbirth.

Thus she endured awhile till that which was acold grew warm, watching its brightness that shone through

her silken dress as the flame of a lamp shines through an alabaster 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 upon it, thrice she whispered,

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 magic tree.

Greater it grew and greater yet, and as it grew it shone like a torch in a tomb, and wound itself about the body

of Meriamun, wrapping her in its fiery folds till it reached her middle. Then it reared its head on high, and

from its eyes there flowed a light like the light of a flame, and lo! its face was the face of a fair womanit

Now face looked on face, and eyes glared into eyes. Still as a white statue of the Gods stood Meriamun the

Queen, and all about her form and in and out of her dark hair twined the flaming snake.

At length the Evil spokespoke with a human voice, with the voice of Meriamun, but in the dead speech of

"Where I go there thou goest, for I have warmed thee in my breast and thou art twined about my heart."

"Well art thou instructed," it said. "So I love thee as thou lovest me," and it bent itself and kissed her on the

lips. "I am that Ancient Evil, that Life which endures out of the first death; I am that Death which abides in

the living life. I am that which brought on thee the woe that is in division from the Heart's Desire, and the

name thereof is Hell. From Life to Life thou hast found me at thy hand, now in this shape, now in that. I

taught thee the magic which thou knowest; I showed thee how to win the Throne! Now, what wilt thou of me,

Meriamun, my Mother, my Sister, and my Child? From Life to Life I have been with thee: ever thou mightest

have put me from thee, ever thou fliest to the wisdom which I have, and ever from thee I draw my strength,

for though without me thou mightest live, without thee I must die. Say now, what is it?tell me, and I will

name my price. No more will I ask than must be, forah!I am glad to wake and live again; glad to grip

thy soul within these shining folds, to be fair with thy beauty!to be foul with thy sin!"

"Lay thy lips against my ear and thine ear against my lips," said Meriamun the Queen, "and I will say what it

So the humanheaded Evil laid its ear against the lips of Meriamun, and Meriamun laid her lips against its

ear, and they whispered each to each. There in the darkness they whispered, while the witchlight glittered

down the grey snake's shining folds, beamed in its eyes, and shone through the Queen's dark hair and on her

At length the 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 Ill! He looks for Light, and in Darkness shall he wander!

To Love he turns, in Lust he shall be lost! He would win the Golden Helen, whom he has sought through

many a way, whom he has followed o'er many a sea, but first shall he find thee, Meriamun, and through thee

Death! For he shall swear by the Snake who should have sworn by the Star. Far hath he wanderedfurther

shall he wander yet, for thy sin shall be his sin! Darkness shall wear the face of LightEvil shall shine like

Good. I will give him to thee, Meriamun, but, hearken to my price. No more must I be laid cold in the gloom

while thou walkest in the sunshine nay, I must be twined about thy body. Fear not, fear not, I shall seem

but a jewel in the eyes of men, a girdle fashioned cunningly for the body of a queen. But with thee henceforth

I must ever goand when thou diest, with thee must I die, and with thee pass where thou dost passwith

thee to sleep, with thee to awake againand so, on and on, till in the end I win or thou winnest, or she wins

"So once before thou didst give it," answered the Evil; "ay, far, far away, beneath a golden sky and in another

clime. Happy wast thou then with him thou dost desire, but I twined myself about thy heart 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 I have loosed thee from thy gentleness, and set it free upon the earth, and Beauty is she named.

By beauty doth she work who is the Golden Helen, and for her beauty's sake, that all men strive to win, are

wars and woes, are hopes and prayers, and longings without end. But by Evil dost thou work who art

divorced from Innocence, and evil shalt thou ever bring on him whom thou desireth. A riddle! A riddle! Read

it who mayread it if thou canst, thou who art named Meriamun the Queen, but who art less than Queen and

more. Who art thou? Who is she they named the Helen? Who is that Wanderer who seeks her from afar, and

who, who am I? A riddle! a riddle! that thou mayst not read. Yet is the answer written on earth and sky and

"Now hearken! Tomorrow night thou shalt take me and twine me about thy body, doing as I bid thee, and

behold! for a while thy shape shall wear the shape of the Golden Helen, and thy face shall be as 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 only, be a wife to him whom thou desireth. Naught can I tell thee of

the future, I who am but a counsellor, but hereafter it may be that woes will come, woes and wars and death.

But what matter these when thou hast had thy desire, when he hath sinned, and hath sworn by the Snake who

should have sworn by the Star, and when he is bound to thee by ties that may not be loosed? Choose,

Meriamun, choose! Put my counsel from thee and tomorrow this man thou lovest shall be lost to thee, lost

in the arms of Helen; and alone for many years shalt thou bear the burden of thy lonely love. Take it, and he

Thus spake the Ancient Evil, tempting her who was named Meriamun, while she hearkened to the tempting.

"I have chosen," she said; "I will wear the shape of Helen, and be a wife to him I love, and then let ruin fall.

Sleep, thou Ancient Evil. Sleep, for no more may I endure thy face of fear that is my face, nor the light of

Again the Thing reared its human head and laughed out in triumph. Then slowly it unloosed its gleaming

coils: slowly it slid to the earth and shrank and withered like a flaming scroll, till at length it seemed once

The Wanderer, when he left the inner secret shrine, saw no more the guardian of the gates, nor heard the clash

of the swords unseen, for the Gods had given the beauty of Helen to Odysseus of Ithaca, as it was foretold.

Without the curtains the priests of the temple were gathered wondering little could they understand how it

came to pass that the hero who was called Eperitus had vanished through the curtains and had not been

smitten down by the unseen swords. And when they saw him come forth glorious and unharmed they cried

But he laughed and said, "Fear not. Victory is to him whom the Gods appoint. I have done battle with the

wardens of the shrine, and passed them, and methinks that they are gone. I have looked upon the Hathor also,

So they bowed before him, and leading him thence to their chamber of banquets gave him of their best, and

Then he rose and went from the temple, and again the priests bowed before him. Moreover, they gave him

freedom of the temple, and keys whereby all the doors might be opened, though little, as they thought, had he

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

"Little did I think to look upon thee again, Eperitus," he said. "Had it not been for that which the

"Nevertheless, here I am unhurt, of ghost or men," the Wanderer answered, laughing, as he passed into the

"Naught, 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

oaths are binding both men and Gods, and thou didst swear an oath to Pharaohis it not so?"

"Ay, Rei. I swore an oath that I would guard the Queen well till Pharaoh came again."

"Art thou minded to keep that oath, Eperitus?" asked Rei, looking on him strangely. "Art thou minded to

guard the fair fame of Pharaoh's Queen, that is more precious than her life? Methinks thou dost understand

"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

"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 I see, that our will runs one way,

and thou canst help me, and, in helping me, thyself and Pharaoh to whom I swore an oath, and her whose

honour thou holdest dear. But this I warn thee, Rei, that if thou dost betray me, not thine age, not thy office,

"Speak on, Odysseus, Laertes' son, Odysseus of Ithaca," said Rei; "may my life be forfeit if I betray thy

"I know it," said Rei, "and I tell thee that I know it, thou most crafty of men, to show this, that with me thy

guile will not avail thee." For he would not tell him that he had it from the lips of the Queen.

"Thou hast heard a name that had been in the mouths of many," 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 I came 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, by the gates of the temple, I

shall find her whom all men desire, but who loves me alone among men, for so it has been fated of the 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 shouldest 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 meso

it must be. Moreover I ask thee to meet me by the pylon of the Temple of Hathor tomorrow at one hour

before midnight. There will we talk with her who is called the Hathor, and prepare our flight, and thence thou

"Somewhat I fear to look upon this Goddess, yet I will dare it. Tell me, then, how shall I know her at the

"Thou shalt know her, Rei, by the red star which burns upon her breast. But fear not, for I will be there. Say,

"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 Khem and thou wert with it, and with thee she who is called the Hathor, that

That night the 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 sundown.

Rei also went to the feast, and as he went, meeting the Wanderer in the antechamber, he whispered 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

Presently, as he whispered, the doors were flung wide and Meriamun the Queen passed in, followed by

eunuchs and waitingwomen. 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

When at length the feast was done, Meriamun bade the Wanderer to her private chamber, and thither he went

for awhile, though sorely against his will. But Rei came not in with them, and thus he was left alone with the

When they had gone there was silence for a space, but ever the Wanderer felt the eyes of Meriamun watching

"I am weary," she said, at length. "Tell me of the wanderings, Odysseus of Ithacanay, 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 leaguers of the Ach�ans, and, wrapped in a beggar's weeds, seek speech of this evil Helen, now justly

"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

"Was it so, indeed?" said the Queen, smiling darkly. "Doubtless if she yet lived, and thou sawest her, thou

"Nay, she lives no more, Odysseus. Now tell me; yesterday thou wentest up to the Temple of the Hathor; tell

"I saw a fair woman, or, perchance, an immortal Goddess, stand upon the pylon brow, and as she stood and

sang those who looked were bereft of reason. And thereafter some tried to pass the ghosts who guarded the

"A strange sight, surely. But thou didst not lose thy craft, Odysseus, nor try to break through the ghosts?"

"Nay, Meriamun. In my youth I 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 looked upon the Hathor may seek to win the Helen," she answered slowly,

So for awhile they spoke, and Meriamun, knowing all, wondered much at the guile of the Wanderer, but she

showed no wonder in her face. At length he rose and, bowing before her, said that he must visit the guard that

watched the Palace gates. She looked upon him strangely and bade him go. Then he went, and right glad he

But when the curtains had swung behind him, Meriamun the Queen sprang to her feet, and a dreadful light of

daring burned in her eyes. She clapped her hands, and bade those 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

"Now must the bride deck herself for the bridal," she said, and straightway, pausing not, drew forth the

Ancient Evil from its hiding place and warmed it on her breast, breathing the breath of life into its nostrils.

Now, as before, it grew and wound itself about her, and whispered 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 dead

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 did she reck of the

sorrows which her sin should bring forth. So she bathed herself in perfumes, shook out her shining hair, and

clad herself in white attire. Then she looked upon her beauty in the mirror of silver, and cried in the bitterness

"Ah, am I not fair enow to win him whom I love? Say, thou Evil, must I indeed steal the beauty of another to

"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 swiftly for presently the Wanderer goes

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, doubleheaded 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 the 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 of death, ashen and hollow, then slowly burned into life

again but all her loveliness was changed. Changed were her dark locks to locks of gold, changed were her

deep eyes to eyes of blue, changed was the glory of her pride to the sweetness of the Helen's smile. Fairest

among women had been her form, now it was fairer yet, and nownow she was Beauty's self, and like to

"So, ah, so must the Hathor seem," she said, and lo! her voice rang strangely in her ears. For the voice, too,

was changed, it was more soft than the whispering of windstirred reeds; it was more sweet than the

Now she must go forth, and fearful at her own loveliness and heavy with her sin, yet glad with a strange joy,

she passes from her chamber and glides like a starbeam 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 dreadful sin that she has sinned, 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

Now the Wanderer is in his chamber, waiting for the hour to set forth to find the Golden Helen. His heart is

alight, and strange dreams of the past go before his eyes, and strange visions of long love to be. His heart

burns like a lamp in the blackness, and 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 knows 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 may lurk in darkness, and takes the Bow of Eurytus, and the grey bolts

of death; for perchance the fight is not yet done, 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 night, the

Wanderer glanced warily down the dusky hall, but he might see little because of the shadows. Nevertheless,

the moonlight poured into the centre of the hall from the clerestories in the roof, and lay there shining white

as water beneath black banks of reeds. Again the Wanderer glanced with keen, quick eyes, for there was a

sense in his heart that he was no more alone in the hall, though whether it were man or ghost, or, perchance,

one of the immortal Gods who looked on him, he might not tell. Now it seemed to him that he saw a shape of

white moving far away in the shadow. Then he grasped the black bow and laid hand upon his quiver so that

Now it would seem that the shape in the shadow heard the rattling of the shafts, or perchance saw the

moonlight gleam upon the Wanderer's golden harnessat the least, it drew near till it came to the edge of the

pool of light. There it paused as a bather pauses ere she steps into the fountain. The Wanderer paused also,

wondering what the shape might be. Half was he minded to try it with an arrow from the bow, but he held his

And as he watched, the white shape glided into the space of moonlight, and he saw that it was the form of a

woman draped in white, and that about her shone a gleaming girdle, and in the girdle gems which sparkled

like the eyes of a snake. Tall was the shape and lovely as a statue of Aphrodite; but who or what it was he

Awhile the shape stood thus, and as it stood, the Wanderer passed towards it, marvelling much, till he also

stood in the pool of moonlight that shimmered on his golden mail. Then suddenly the shape lifted its face so

that the light fell full on it, and stretched out its arms towards him, and lo! the face was the face of the Argive

Helenof her whom he went forth to seek. He looked upon its beauty, he looked upon the eyes of blue, upon

the golden hair, upon the shining arms; then slowly, very slowly, and in silencefor he could find no

She did not move nor speak. So still she stood that scarce she seemed to breathe. Only the shining eyes of her

snakegirdle glittered like living things. Again he stopped fearfully, for he held that this was surely a

"Lady," he whispered, "is it indeed thou, is it Argive Helen whom I look upon, or is it, perchance, a ghost

"Did I not tell thee, Odysseus of Ithaca, did I not tell thee, yesterday in the halls of Hathor, after thou hadst

overcome the ghosts, that tonight we should be wed? Wherefore, then, dost thou deem me of the number of

The Wanderer hearkened. The voice was the voice of Helen, the eyes were the eyes of Helen, and yet his

"So did Argive Helen tell me of a truth, Lady, but this she said, that I should find her by the pylon of the

temple, and lead her thence to be my bride. Thither I go but now to seek her. But if thou art Helen, how

comest thou to these Palace halls? And where, Lady, is that Red Star which should gleam upon thy breast,

"No more doth the red dew fall from the Star that was set upon my breast, Odysseus, for now that thou hast

won me men die no more for my beauty's sake. Gone is the Star of War; and see, Wisdom rings me round,

the symbol of the Deathless Snake that signifies love eternal. Thou dost ask how I came hither, I, who am

immortal and a daughter of the Gods? Seek not to know, Odysseus, for where Fate puts it in my mind to be,

"Last of all things do I desire this," he answered, for now his wisdom went awandering; 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

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

And as she goes, once more it seems to her that she hears them whisper each to each the horror of her sin and

the sorrow 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 bedchamber of the Queen, and by Pharaoh's

"Odysseus of Ithaca, whom I have loved from the beginning, and whom I shall love till all deaths are done,

before thee stands that Loveliness which the Gods predestined to thy arms. Now take thou thy Bride; but first

lay thy hand upon this golden Snake, that rings me 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, Woman, for now and for ever, for here and hereafter, in whatever shape thou goest on the

"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, and he swore by the Snake who should have sworn by the Star. By the immortal Gods he swore it, by

the Symbol of the Snake, and by the Beauty of his Bride. And as he swore the eyes of the Serpent sparkled,

and the eyes of her who wore the beauty of Helen shone, and faintly the black bow of Eurytus thrilled,

But little the Wanderer thought on guile or War or Death, for the kiss of her whom he deemed the Golden

Now Rei the Priest, as had been appointed, went to the pylon gate of the Temple of Hathor. Awhile he stood

looking for the Wanderer, but though the hour had come, the Wanderer came not. Then the Priest went to the

pylon and stood in the shadow of the gate. As he stood there a wicket in the gate opened, and there passed out

a veiled figure of a woman upon whose breast burned a red jewel that shone in the night like a star. The

woman waited awhile, looking down the moonlit road between the black rows of sphinxes, but the road lay

white and empty, and she turned and hid herself in the shadow of the pylon, where Rei could see nothing of

Now a great fear came upon the old man, for he knew that he looked upon the strange and deadly Hathor.

Perchance he too would perish like the rest who had looked on her to their ruin. He thought of flight, but he

did not dare to fly. Then he too stared down the road seeking for the Wanderer, but no shadow crossed the

moonlight. Thus things went for awhile, and still the Hathor stood silently in the shadow, and still the

bloodred star shone upon her breast. And so it came to pass that the World's Desire must wait at the tryst

While Rei the Priest crouched thus against the pylon wall, praying for the coming of him who came not,

He knew that it was the Hathor who spoke, and so afraid was he that he could not answer.

"Oh, thou most crafty of men, why doth it please thee to come hither to seek me in the guise of an aged priest.

Once, Odysseus, I saw thee in beggar's weeds, and knew thee in the midst of thy foes. Shall I not know thee

Rei heard and knew that he could hide himself no longer. Therefore he came forward trembling, and knelt

"Oh, mighty Queen, I am not that man whom thou didst name, nor am I 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 I judge by that red jewel which burns upon thy breast, I pray thee be merciful

to thy servant and smite me not in thy wrath, for not by my own will am I here, but by the command of that

hero whom thou hast named, and for whose coming I await. Be merciful therefore, 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 because of me, who am a doom to men, not by my will has it been,

but by the will of the immortal Gods, who use me to their ends. Rise thou, Rei, and tell me why thou art come

Then Rei rose, and looking up saw the light of the Helen's eyes shining on him through her veil. But there

was no anger in them, they shone mildly as stars in an evening sky, and his heart was comforted.

"I know not where the Wanderer is, O thou Immortal," he said. "This I know only, that he bade me meet him

"Perchance he too will come anon," said the sweet voice; "but why did he, whom thou namest the Wanderer,

"For this reason, O Hathor. He told me that this night he should be wed to thee, and was minded thereafter to

fly from Khem with thee. Therefore he bade me come, who am a friend to him, to talk with thee and him as

Now as Rei spake, he turned his face upward, and the Golden Helen looked upon it.

"Hearken, Rei," she said; "but yesterday, after I had stood upon the pylon tower as the Gods decreed, and

sang to those who were ripe to die, I went to my shrine and wove my web while the doomed men fell beneath

the swords of them who were set to guard my beauty, but who now are gone. And as I wove, one passed the

Ghosts and rent the web and stood before me. It was he whom I await tonight, and after awhile I knew him

for Odysseus of Ithaca, Laertes' son. But as I looked on him and spake with him, behold, I saw a spirit

watching us, though he might not see it, a spirit whose face I knew not, for no such man have I known in my

life days. Know then, Rei, that the face of the spirit was thy face, and its robes thy robes."

"Now, Rei, I bid thee tell 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 thou dare to enter and look upon my beauty and hearken to my words?"

"Oh, great Queen," said Rei, "I will tell thee the truth, and I pray thee let not the wrath of the Gods fall upon

me. Not of my own will did my spirit enter 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

"And whom dost thou serve, Rei? And why did she send thy spirit forth to spy on me?"

"I serve Meriamun the Queen, and she sent my spirit forth to learn what befell the Wanderer when he went up

"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

"Nay," he said, covering his 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 Ghosts?"

"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

Now when the Golden Helen heard these words, she 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, I am tempted to

pay this Queen of thine in her own craft, and send thy spirit forth to spy on her. Nay, that I will not do, for

never shall Helen work by shameful guile or magic. Naybut we will hence, Rei, we will go to the Palace

where my rival dwells, there to learn the truth. Fear not, I will bring no ill on thee, nor on her whom thou

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 the

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 twisted 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

The Bow heard the song of the Snake. The Death heard the song of the Sin, and again its thin music thrilled

Now the song of the Snake 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 mighty arms, he opened his eyes, and lo! they looked upon

the eyes that bent above him, eyes of flame that lit the face of a womanthe face of Meriamun that wavered

on a serpent's neck and suddenly was gone. He cried aloud with fear, and sprang from the couch. The faint

light of the dawning crept through the casements and fell upon the bed. The faint light of the dawning fell

upon the golden bed of Pharaoh's Queen, it gleamed upon the golden armour that was piled by the bed, 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 lastthe Golden Helen now made a wife to him. Now he mocked his own fears, and now he

bent to wake her with a kiss. Faintly the newborn light crept and gathered on her face; ah! how beautiful she

was in sleep. Nay, what was this? Whose face was this beneath his own? Not so had Helen looked in the

shrine of her temple, when he tore the web. Not so had Helen seemed yonder in the pillared hall when she

stood in the moonlit spacenot 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

He stared upon her lovely sleeping face, while terror shook his soul. How could this be? What then had he

Then light broke upon him. He looked around the chamberthere on the walls were the graven images of

the Gods of Khem, there above the bed the names of Meneptah and Meriamun were written side by side in

the sacred signs 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 shapeand now the spell was broken.

He stood amazed, 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 slipped from his hand; with a crash it fell upon the marble floor. With a crash it fell, and she

who slept in the bed awoke with a cry, and sprang from the bed, her dark hair streaming down, her

nightgear held to her by the golden snake with gemmy eyes that she must ever wear. But he caught his

The Wanderer and Pharaoh's Queen stood face to face in the twilight of the chamber. They stood in silence,

while bitter anger and burning shame poured into his heart and shone from his eyes. But the face of

Meriamun was cold as the dead, and on it was a smile such as the carven sphinxes wear. Only her breast

heaved tumultuously as though in triumph, and her limbs quivered 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 wouldest thou leave thy bridal bed,

Still he spoke no word, but looked on her with burning eyes. Then she stretched out her arms and came

"Get thee from me!" he said, in a voice low and terrible to hear; "get thee from me. Dare not to touch me,

thou, who art a harlot and a witch, lest I forget my manhood and strike thee dead before me."

"That thou canst not do, Odysseus," she answered soft, "for whatever else I be I am thy wife, and thou art

bound to me for ever. What was the oath which thou didst swear not five short hours ago?"

"I swore an oath indeed, but not to thee, Meriamun. I swore an oath to Argive Helen, whom I love, and I

"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 and for ever, for here

and hereafter, in whatever shape thou goest on the earth, by whatever name thou art known among men.' Oh,

be not wroth, my lord, but hearken. What matters the shape in which thou seest me? At the least am I not

fair? And what is beauty but a casket that hides the gem within? 'Tis my love which thou hast won, my love

that is immortal, and 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

Odysseus of Ithaca, and when I am no more Meriamun, 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 through the fields of Life and Death I shall be at thy side. For I am She of whom thou art, and thou art

He of whom I am, and though the Gods have severed us, yet must we float together down the river of our

lives till we find that sea of which the Spirit knows. Therefore put me not from thee and raise not my wrath

against thee, for if I used my magic to bring thee to my arms, yet they are thy home." And once more she

Now the Wanderer drew an arrow from his quiver, and set the notch against his breast and the keen barb

"Draw on," he said. "Thus will I take thee to my arms again. Hearken, Meriamun the witchMeriamun the

harlot: Pharaoh's wife and Queen of Khem. To thee I swore an oath indeed, and perchance because I suffered

thy guile to overcome my wisdom, because I swore upon That which circles thee about, and not by the Red

Star which gleams upon the Helen's breast, it may be that I shall lose her whom I love. So indeed the Queen

of Heaven told me, yonder in seagirt Ithaca, though to my sorrow I forgot her words. But if I lose her or if I

win, know this, that I love her and her only, and I hate thee like the gates of hell. For thou hast tricked me

with thy magic, thou hast stolen the shape of Beauty's self and dared to wear it, thou hast drawn a dreadful

oath from me, and I have taken thee to wife. And more, thou art the Queen of Khem, thou art Pharaoh's wife,

whom I swore to guard; but thou hast brought the last shame upon me, for now I am a man dishonoured, and

I have sinned against the hospitable hearth, and the God of guests and hosts. And therefore I will do this. I

will call together the guard of which I am chief, and tell them all thy shame, ay, and all my sorrow. I will

shout it in the streets, I will publish it from the temple tops, and when Pharaoh comes again I will call it into

his ear, till he and all who live in Khem know thee for what thou art, and see thee in thy naked shame."

She hearkened, and her face grew terrible to see. A moment she stood as though in thought, one hand pressed

Then with the hand that rested on her breast she rent her night robes and tore her perfumed hair. Past him she

rushed towards the door, and as she ran sent scream on scream echoing up the painted walls.

The curtains shook, the doors were burst asunder, and through them poured guards, eunuchs, and

"Help," she cried, pointing to the Wanderer. "Help, help! oh, save mine honour from this evil man, this

foreign thief whom Pharaoh set to guard me, and who guards me thus. This coward who dares to creep upon

methe Queen of Khemeven as I slept in Pharaoh's bed!" and she cast herself upon the floor and threw

her hair about her, and lay there groaning and weeping as though in the last agony of shame.

Now when the guards saw how the thing was, a great cry of rage and shame went up from them, and they

rushed upon the Wanderer like wolves upon a stag at 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.

The bowstring sang, the arrow rushed forth, and he who stood before it got his death. Again the bowstring

sang, again the arrow rushed, and lo! another man 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 from him as the waters roll from a rock, for none

dares 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 from his mail and some he caught upon his buckler.

Now among those who had run thither at the sound of the cries of Meriamun was that same Kurri, the

miserable captain of the Sidonians, whose life the Wanderer had spared, and whom he had given to the

Queen to be her jeweller. And when Kurri saw the Wanderer's plight, he thought in his greedy heart of those

treasures that he had lost, and of how he who had been a captain and a rich merchant of Sidon was now

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 into the shadows, carrying a long spear in

his hand, and that spear was hafted into the bronze point which had stood in the Wanderer's helm. Little did

the Wanderer glance his way, for he watched the lances and arrows that flew towards him from the portal, so

the end of it was that the Sidonian passed round the chamber unseen 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 length

from it, and in the silken hangings were fixed spears 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

Wanderer should turn and slay him; and again because he hoped that the Wanderer 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 in the

tormenting of men. Therefore he waited till presently 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 grey shaft fell upon the marble floor. Then, as the

Wanderer cast down the bow and turned with a cry to spring on him who had cut the cord, for his eye had

caught the sheen of the outstretched spear, Kurri lifted the covering of the purple web which lay upon the bed

and deftly cast it over the hero's head so that he was inmeshed. Thereon the soldiers and the eunuchs took

heart, seeing what had been done, and ere ever the Wanderer could clear himself from the covering and draw

his sword, they rushed upon him. Cumbered as he was, they might not easily overcome him, but in the end

they bore him down and held him fast, so that he could not stir so much as a finger. Then one cried aloud to

But Meriamun, who had watched the fray through cover of her hands, shuddered and made answer:

"Nay, but lock his tongue with a gag, strip his armour from him, 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 against Pharaoh's honour he hath sinned and shamefully broken that oath he swore to him, and therefore

Now when Kurri heard these words, and saw the Wanderer's sorry plight, he bent over him and said:

"It was I, Kurri the Sidonian, who cut the cord of thy great bow, Eperitus; with the spearpoint that thou

gavest back to me I cut it, I, whose folk thou didst slay and madest me a slave. And I will crave this boon of

Pharaoh, that mine shall be the hand to torment thee night and day till at last thou diest, cursing the day that

The Wanderer looked upon him and answered: "There thou liest, thou Sidonian dog, for this is written in thy

Then Kurri shrank back scowling. But no more words might Odysseus speak, for at once they forced his jaws

apart and gagged him with a gag of iron; and thereafter, stripping his harness from him, they bound him with

Now while they dealt thus with the Wanderer, Meriamun passed into another chamber and swiftly threw

robes upon her to hide her disarray, clasping them round her with the golden girdle which now she must

always wear. But her long hair she left unbound, nor did she wash the stain of tears from her face, for she was

minded to seem shamed and woebegone in the eyes of all men till Pharaoh came again.

Rei and the Golden 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

"Easy would it be for me to win my way through those great gates," said the Helen to Rei at her side, "but it

So they entered the porch of the Temple of Osiris that looked towards the gates, and there they waited till the

dawn gathered in the eastern sky. The Helen spoke no word, but Rei, watching her, knew that she was

troubled at heart, though he might not see her face because of the veil she wore; for from time to time she

"Now let us enter," she said; "my heart forebodes evil indeed; but much of evil I have known, and where the

They came to the gates, and the man who watched them opened to the priest Rei and the veiled woman who

"I know not," he answered, "but anon a great tumult rose in the Palace, and the Captain of the Gate went

"Nay, I have not seen him since suppertime 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 east towards the hall of banquets, whence 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 Queen's chambers, a great crowd was gathered.

"Hide thee, ladyhide thee," said Rei to her who went with him, "for methinks 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

"Ill deeds, Lord," said the servant. "Eperitus the Wanderer, whom Pharaoh made Captain of his Guard when

he went forth to slay the rebel ApuraEperitus 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 from the great black bow, but Kurri the Sidonian cut the string 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, they bring him. I must begone on my errand to the keeper of the

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 whom 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. Loveless she had

lived all her life days, now she had learned to love once and for everand this was the fruit of it! She

clasped the curtain lest she should sink to the earth, and hearing 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 not 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 his eyes shone with so fierce a light, that the crowd shrank from

him as though in fear. Thus did Helen see her Love and Lord again as they bore him dishonoured to his

dungeon cell. She saw, and a moan and a cry burst from her heart. A moan for her own woe and a cry for the

He heard it and knew the voice of her who cried, and he gazed around. The great veins swelled upon his neck

and forehead, and he struggled so fiercely that he fell from the litter to the ground. But he might not rise

because of the fetters, nor speak because of the gag, so they lifted him again and bore him thence.

And after him went all the multitude save Rei alone. 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 remember

and learn to doubt. So he stood hiding his eyes in his hand, and as he stood Helen came forth and touched

"Lead me hence, old man. Lead me back to my temple. My Love is lost indeed, but there where I found it I

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 streaming, all her robes disordered, and her face stained with tears. She

was alone save for Kurri the Sidonian, who followed her, and she walked wildly as one distraught who knows

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 fire. Then like fire burned the heart of

Meriamun, for she knew that this was Argive Helen who stood before her, Helen whose shape she had stolen

"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 evilworking witch, who hath brought woes unnumbered upon Khem.

Because of her, men die month 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 landthe curse of water turned to blood, of hail and of terrible

darkness, ay, and the curse of the death of the firstborn among whom my own son died. And thou hast dared,

Rei, to bring this witch here to my Palace halls! By Amen if I had not loved thee 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 shalt thou bring evil upon Khem. Hearken, slave," and she turned to Kurri 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

"I charge thee, Lady," she said in slow soft tones, "bid not thy servant do this deed, for though I have little

"Draw, knave, draw!" cried Meriamun, "and do my bidding, or presently thou shalt be slain with this same

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 with a cry he lifted the knife, and plunging it, not into her heart, but into his own, fell

This then was the miserable end of Kurri the Sidonian, slain by the sight of the Beauty.

"Thou seest, Lady," said Helen, turning from the dead Sidonian, "no man may harm me."

For a moment the Queen stood astonished, while Rei the Priest muttered prayers to the protecting Gods. Then

"Begone, thou living curse, begone! Wherefore art thou come here to work more woe in this house of woe

"Fear not," answered the Helen, "presently I will begone and trouble thee no more. Thou askest why I am

come hither. I came to see him who was my love, and whom but last night I should have wed, but whom the

Gods have brought to shame unspeakable, Odysseus of Ithaca, Odysseus, Laertes' son. For this cause I came,

and I have stayed to look upon the face of her whose beauty had power to drive the thought of me from the

heart of Odysseus, and bring 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 the

matter strange, since if all else be false, yet is this true, that among women the fairest are the most strong.

Thou art fair indeed, Meriamun, but judge if thou art more fair than Argive Helen," and she drew the veil

from her face so that the splendour of her beauty shone out upon the Queen's dark loveliness. Thus for awhile

they stood each facing each, and to Rei it seemed as though the spirits of Death and Life looked one on

another, as though the darkness and the daylight stood in woman's shape before him.

"Thou art fair indeed," said the Queen, "but in this, witch, has thy beauty failed to hold him whom thou

wouldst wed from the most shameless sin. Little methinks can that man have loved thee who crept upon me

Then Helen bethought her of what Rei had said, that Meriamun loved the Wanderer, and she spoke again:

"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 such a coward deed as this, or, unbidden, seek to clasp thee to his heart.

Moreover, I read in thine eyes that thou thyself dost love the man whom thou namest dastard. Nay, hold thy

peace, look not so wildly on me whom thou canst not harm, but hearken. Whether thy tale be true or false I

know not, who use no magic and learn those things only that the Gods reveal to me. But this at the least is

true, that Odysseus, whom I should have wed, has looked on thee with eyes of love, even in that hour when I

waited to be made his wife. Therefore the love that but two days agone bloomed in my heart, dies and

withers; or if it does not, at least I cast it from me and tread its flowers beneath my feet. For this doom the

Gods have laid upon me, who am of all women the most hapless, to live beloved but loveless through many

years, and at the last to love and be betrayed. And now I go hence back to my temple shrine; but fear not,

Meriamun, not for long shall I trouble thee or Khem, and men shall die no more because of my beauty, for I

shall presently pass hence whither the Gods appoint; and this I say to theedeal gently with that man who

has betrayed my faith, for whatever he did was done for the love of thee. It is no mean thing to have won the

heart of Odysseus of Ithaca out of the hand of Argive Helen. Fare thee well, Meriamun, who wouldst have

slain me. May the Gods grant thee better days and more of joy than is given to Helen, who would look upon

Thus she spake, and letting her veil fall turned to go. For awhile the Queen stood shamed to silence by these

gentle words, that fell like dew upon the fires of her hate. But ere Helen had passed the length of a spear her

fury burned up again. What, should she let this strange woman gothis 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 endured such bitter words of scorn? Nay, while Helen yet lived she could find not joy nor

sleep. But were Helen dead, then perchance all might yet be well, and the Wanderer yet be hers, for when the

"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, so that before Helen reached the Palace doors, they had been shut and the gates of bronze beyond

"Stay yon witch," cried the Queen to those who guarded them, and in wonder they poised their spears to bar

the way to Helen. But she only lifted her veil and looked upon them. Then their arms fell from their hands

"Open, I beseech you," said the Helen gently, and straightway they opened the doors and she passed through,

followed by those who guarded them, by the 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 she passed.

"Shoot the witch!" cried Meriamun the Queen; "if she pass the gates, by my royal word I swear that ye shall

Then three men drew their bows mightily. The string of the bow of one burst, and the bow was shattered, and

the arrow of the second slipped as he drew it, and passing downwards pierced his foot; and the shaft of the

third swerved ere it struck the breast of Helen, and sunk into the heart of that soldier who was next to the

Queen, so that he fell down dead. It was the same man who had striven to hold to the doors and clasp the

"Bid not thy guard to shoot again, Meriamun, lest the arrow find thy heart, for, know this, no man may harm

me;" and once more she lifted her veil, and speaking to those at the gates said: "Open, I beseech you, and let

Now their weapons fell from their hands, and they looked upon her beauty, and they too made haste to open

the gates. The great gates clanged upon their sockets and rolled back. She passed through them, and all who

were there followed after her. But when they looked, lo! she had mingled with the people who went to and

Then Meriamun grew white with rage because Helen whom she hated had escaped her, and turning to those

men who had opened the doors and those who had given passage of the gates, who yet stood looking on each

"Ill will come of it, O Queen!" he said, "as ill came to yonder Sidonian and to the soldier at thy feet, for none

may work evil on this Goddess, or those who befriended the Goddess. Slay them not, O Queen, lest ill tidings

"Hearken thou, Rei!" she said; "speak thus again, and though I have loved thee and thou hast been the chief

of the servants of Pharaoh, this I swear, that thou shalt die the first. Already the count is long between 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 I will do. Get thee goneget thee from my sight, I say, lest I slay thee now. I take

back thy honours, I strip thee of thy offices, I gather thy wealth into my treasury. Go forth a beggar, and let

Then Rei held his peace and fled, for it were better to stand before a lioness robbed of her whelps than before

Meriamun 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 filled with the

beauty of Helen as a cup with wine, he suffered death, for his head was straightway 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 cry 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 is come again!" and there

Now for that while Meriamun thought no more of slaying the men, but bade them open the gates. They

opened, and a man entered clad in raiment stained with travel. His eyes were wild, his hair was dishevelled,

and scarce could his face be known for the face of Pharaoh Meneptah, it was so marred with grief and fear.

Pharaoh looked on the Queenhe looked upon the dead who lay at her feet, then laughed aloud:

"What!" he cried, "more dead! Is there then no end to Death and the number of his slain? Nay, here he doth

work but feebly. Perchance his arm grows weary. Come, where are thy dead, Queen? Bring forth thy dead!"

"What hath chanced, Meneptah, that thou speakest thus madly?" asked the 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

"Yes, Queen, all are leftallallsave myself alone. They drift to and fro in the Sea of Weedsthey 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 the tribes of the Apura by the banks of the Sea of Weeds. I 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 peoplethe 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, and they did my bidding. But the

chariot wheels 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 they were seen again 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

So Pharaoh spoke, and a great groan rose from those who hearkened. Only Meriamun spoke:

Now as she spoke thus, again there came a sound of knocking at the gates and a cry of "Opena messenger!

"Open!" said Meriamun, "though his tidings be ill, scarce can they match these that have been told."

The gates were opened, and one came through them. His eyes stared wide in fear, so dry was his throat with

"Give him wine," cried Meriamun, and wine was brought. Then he drank, and he fell upon his knees before

"Let the Queen pardon me," 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 the lands of the

Tulisha, of the Shakalishu, of the Liku, and of the Shairdana. They march swiftly and raven, they lay the

country waste, naught is left behind them save the smoke of burning towns, the flight of vultures, and the

"Nay, O Queen! A great fleet sails with them up the eastern mouth of Sihor, and in it are twelve thousand

And now a great groan went up to heaven from the lips of those who hearkened. Only Meriamun spoke thus:

"And yet the Apura are gone, for whose sake, ye say, came the plagues. They are fled, but the curse remains,

It was nightfall, and Pharaoh sat at meat and Meriamun sat by him. The heart of Pharaoh was very heavy. He

thought of that great army which now washed to and fro on the waters of the Sea of Weeds, of whose number

he alone 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 most 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 day he had sat

in his council chamber, and sent forth messengers east and north and south, bidding them gather the

mercenaries from every town and in every city, men to make war against the foe, for here, in his

whitewalled 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 man whom he had left to guard the Queen.

"Where, then, is that great Wanderer, he who wore the golden harness?" he asked presently.

"I have a tale to tell thee of the man," Meriamun answered slowly, "a tale which I have not told because of all

As she whispered, the face of Pharaoh grew black as the night, and ere all the tale was done he sprang to his

"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

little 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 tonight, and sorry shall he go tomorrow, but tomorrow night he

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

Then he sat for awhile, drinking sullenly, till one came to tell him that all was prepared. Then Pharaoh rose.

"Nay," said Meriamun, "I would not look upon the man again; and this I charge thee. Go not down to him this

night. Let him be found upon the bed of torment, and let the tormentors give him food and wine, for so he

shall die more hardly. 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 Pharaoh. "Mete out thine own punishment. Tomorrow when I have slept I will

The Wanderer lay on the bed of torment in the place of torment. They had taken the gag from his mouth, and

given him food and wine as Pharaoh commanded. He ate and drank and his strength came back to him. Then

they made fast his fetters, lit the braziers at his head and foot, and left him with mocking words.

He lay upon the bed of stone and groaned in the bitterness of his heart. Here then was the end of his

wanderings, and this was the breast of the Golden Helen in whose arms Aphrodite had sworn 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 he 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

So he thought in the bitterness of his heart as he lay with closed eyes upon the bed of torment whence there

was no escape, and groaned: "Would, Aphrodite, that I had never served thee, even for one little hour, then

Now he opened his eyes, and lo! a great glory rolled about the place of torment, and as he wondered at the

"Blame me not, Odysseus," said the heavenly voice; "blame me not because thou art come to this pass.

Thyself, son of Laertes, art to blame. What did I tell thee? Was it not that thou shouldst know the Golden

Helen 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 know her by the Star? Yet when one came to thee wearing no Star

but girdled with a Snake, my words were all forgotten, thy desires led thee whither thou wouldst not go. Thou

wast blinded by desire and couldst not discern the False from the True. Beauty has many shapes, now it is

that of Helen, now that of Meriamun, each sees it as he desires it. But the Star is yet the Star, and the Snake is

yet the Snake, and he who, bewildered of his lusts, swears by the Snake when he should have sworn by the

"Yea, there is forgiveness, Odysseus, but first there is punishment. This is thy fate. Never now, in this space

of life, shalt thou be the lord of the Golden Helen. For thou hast sworn by the Snake, and his thou art, nor

mayest thou reach the Star. Yet it still shines on. Through the mists of death it shall shine for thee, and when

"And now, this for thy comfort. Here thou shalt not die, nor by torment, for thy death shall come to thee from

the water as the dead seer foretold, but ere thou diest, once more thou shalt look upon 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 land of Khem, and with it sails a fleet of thine own people, the Ach�ans. Go down and meet them

and take what comes, where the swords shine that smote Troy. And this fate is laid upon thee, that thou shalt

do battle against thy own people, even against the sons of them by whose side thou didst fight beneath the

walls of Ilios, and in that battle thou shalt find thy death, and in thy death, thou Wanderer, thou 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 seeeach as he desires it. In the halls of Death she dwells, and in

the garden of Queen Persephone, and there she shall be won, for there no more is beauty guarded of Those

that stand between men and joy, and there no more shall 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 thy wisdom tells thee.

Thus the Goddess spoke from the cloud of glory, and lo! she was gone. But the heart of the Wanderer was

filled with joy because he knew that the Helen was not lost to him for ever, and he no more feared the death

Now it was midnight, and Pharaoh slept. But Meriamun 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 empty

halls till she came to a secret stair down which she passed. There was a gate at the foot of the stair, and a

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 gate. 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 light 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, evileyed men of Ethiopia, and seated

in a circle. In the 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 redhot, and many instruments strange and dreadful to look

upon. For these were the tormentors, and they spoke of those pains that tomorrow they should wreak upon

But Meriamun, who loved him, shivered as she looked, and muttered thus beneath her 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, holding 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 the chamber there came a

Meriamun heard and wondered at this man's hardihood, and the greatness of his heart who could sing thus as

he lay upon the bed of torment. Now she pushed the door open silently and passed in. The place where she

stood was dreadful. It was shaped as 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 there was a bed of stone on

which the Wanderer was fastened with fetters. He was naked, save only for a waistcloth, and at his head and

feet burned polished braziers that gave light to the vault, and shone upon the instruments of torment. Beyond

the further braziers grinned the gate of Sekhet, that is shaped like a woman, and the chains wherein the victim

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 somewhat, 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

"Who art thou?" he said. "If thou art of the number of the tormentors, begin thy work. I fear thee not, and no

groan shall thy worst torture wring from these lips of mine. But I tell thee this, that ere I be three days dead,

the Gods shall avenge me terribly, both on thee and those who sent thee. With fire and with sword they shall

avenge me, for a great host gathers and draws nigh, a host of many nations gathered out of all lands, ay, and a

fleet manned with the sons of my own people, of the Ach�ans terrible in war. They rush on like ravening

wolves, and the land is black before them, but the 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 fires shall be quenched at last in the

Hearing these words Meriamun bent forward to look on the face of the speaker and to see what was written

there; and as she moved, her cloak slipped apart, showing the Snake's head with the eyes of flame that was set

about her as a girdle. Fiercely they gleamed, and the semblance of them was shown faintly on the polished

surface of the brazier wherein the fire burned at the Wanderer's feet. He saw it, and now he knew who stood

"Say, Meriamun the QueenPharaoh's dishonoured wife," he said, "say, wherefore art thou come to look

upon thy work? Nay, stand not behind me, stand where I may see thee. Fear not, I am strongly bound, nor

Then Meriamun, still speaking no word, but wondering much because he knew her ere his eyes fell upon her,

passed round the bed of torment, and throwing down her cloak stood before him in her dark and royal

"Say, wherefore art thou come hither, Meriamun? Surely, with my ears I heard thee swear that I had wronged

thee. Wouldst thou then look on him who wronged thee, or art thou 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 on me indeed, and perchance canst work more woe now that I lie helpless here. But this I tell

thee, that thy torments shall outnumber mine as the stars outnumber the earth. For here, and hereafter, thou

shalt be parched with such a thirst of love as never may be quenched, and in many another land, and in many

another time, thou shalt endure thine agony afresh. Again, and yet again, thou shalt clasp and conquer; again,

and yet again, thou shalt let slip, and in the moment of triumph lose. By the Snake's head I swore my troth to

thee, I, who should have sworn by the Star; and 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 thy doom!"

"Hold!" said Meriamun, "pour no more bitter words upon me, who am distraught of love, and was maddened

by thy scorn. Wouldst thou know then why I am come hither? For this cause I am come, to save thee from thy

doom. Hearken, the time is short. It is truethough how thou knowest it I may not guessit is true that the

barbarians march on Khem, and with them sails a fleet laden with the warriors of thine own people. This 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 to pardon thy great offence, and

send thee forward against the foe; yes, I can do it. But this thou shalt swear to me, to be true to Pharaoh, and

"That I will swear," said the Wanderer, "ay, and keep the oath, though it is hard to do battle on my kin. Is that

"Not all, Odysseus. One more thing must thou swear, or if thou swearest it not, here thou shalt surely die.

Know this, she who in Khem is named the Hathor, but who perchance has other names, hath put thee from

"She hath put thee from her, and thouthou art bound to me by that which cannot be undone, and by an oath

that may not be broken; in whatever shape I walk, or by whatever 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 tale to

"Also that if Pharaoh be gathered to Osiris, and it should chance that she who is named the Hathor pass with

him to the Underworld, then that thou, Odysseus, wilt wed me, Meriamun, and be faithful to me for thy life

Now the crafty Odysseus took counsel with his heart, and bethought him of the words of the Goddess. He

saw that it was in the mind of Meriamun to slay Pharaoh and the Helen. But he cared nothing for the fate of

Pharaoh, and knew well that Helen might not be harmed, and that though she change eternally, wearing now

this shape, and now that, yet she dies only when the race of men is deadthen to be gathered to the number

of the Gods. This he knew also, that now he must go forth on his last wandering, for Death should come upon

"That oath I swear also, Meriamun, and if I break it may I perish in shame and for ever."

"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 sinned from love of thee. Long years ago, Odysseus, thy shadow fell upon my heart and I clasped its

emptiness. Now thou art come, and I, who pursued a shadow from sleep to sleep and dream to dream, saw

thee a living man, and loved thee to my ruin. Then I tamed my pride and came to win thee to my heart, and

the Gods set another shape upon meso thou sayestand in that shape, the shape of her thou seekest, thou

didst make me wife to thee. Perchance she and I are one, Odysseus. At the least, not so readily had I forsaken

thee. Oh, when thou didst stand in thy might holding those dogs at bay till the Sidonian knave cut thy

"What of him? Tell me, what of Kurri? This would I ask thee, Queen, that he be laid where I lie, and die the

"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 awaythe night wanes and Pharaoh must dream dreams ere dawn.

Fare thee well, Odysseus. Thy bed is hard tonight, but soft is the couch of kings that waits thee," and she

"Ay, Meriamun," said the Wanderer, looking after her. "Hard is my bed tonight, and soft is the couch of the

kings of Men that waits me in the realms of Queen Persephone. But it is not thou who shalt share it. Hard is

my bed tonight, harder shall thine be through all the nights of death that are to come when the Erinnyes

Pharaoh slept heavily in his place, for he was wearied with grief and toil. But Meriamun passed into 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 me. The Ninebow 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 thee victory. Thou shalt hew down the Ninebow

barbarians as a countryman hews a rotting palm; they shall fall, and thou shalt spoil them. But hearken 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 Ninebow barbarians."

Then Meriamun laid the bow of the Wanderer, even the black bow of Eurytus, on the bed beside Pharaoh,

Early in the morning, a waitingwoman came to the Queen saying that Pharaoh would speak with her. She

went into the antechamber and found him there, and in his hand was the black bow of Eurytus.

"Yea, I know it," she answered; "and thou shouldst know it also, for surely it saved us from the fury of the

people on the night of the death of the firstborn. 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

"It is indeed evil that he who would have wrought such wickedness upon me should go forth honoured, the

first of the host of Pharaoh," quoth Meriamun. "Yet as the God hath spoken, so let it be. Send now and bid

them loose the man from the place of torment, and put his armour on him and bring him before thee."

So Pharaoh went out, and the Wanderer was loosed from his bed of stone and clothed again in his golden

harness, and came forth glorious 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

"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 Ninebow 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

"Of that charge, Pharaoh, 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, I might find words to say. Thou askest no oath from me, and no oath I

swear, yet I tell thee that if thou givest me ten thousand soldiers and a hundred chariots, I will smite these

foes of thine so that they shall come no more to Khem, ay, though they be of my own people, yet will I smite

them, and if I fail, then may those who go with me slay me and send me down to Hades."

Thus he spoke, and as he spoke he searched the hall with his eyes. For he desired to see Rei the Priest, and

charge him with a message to Helen. But he sought him in vain, for Rei had fled, and was in hiding from the

Then Pharaoh bade his officers take the Wanderer, and set him in a chariot and bear him to the city of On,

where Pharaoh's host was gathering. Their charge was to watch him night and day with uplifted swords, and

if he so much as turned his face from the foe towards Tanis, then they should slay him. But when the host of

Pharaoh marched from On to do battle on the foe, then they should give the Wanderer his own sword and the

great black bow, and obey him in everything. But if he turned his back upon the foe, then they should slay

him; or if the host of Pharaoh were driven back by the foe, then they should slay him.

The Wanderer 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 horsemen; and

soon Meriamun, watching from the walls of Tanis, saw the long line of desert dust that marked the passing of

The Wanderer also looked back on Tanis with a heavy heart. There, far away, he could see the shrine of

Hathor gleaming like crystal above the tawny flood of waters. And he must go down to death, leaving no

word for Her who sat in the shrine and deemed him faithless and forsworn. Evil was the lot that the Gods had

His thoughts were sad enough while the chariot rolled towards the city of On, where the host of Pharaoh was

gathering, and the thunder of the feet of horses echoed in his ears, when, as he pondered, it chanced that he

looked up. There, on a knoll of sand before him, a bowshot from the chariot, stood a camel, and on the

camel a man sat as though he waited the coming of the host. Idly the Wanderer wondered who this might be,

and, as he wondered, the man urged the camel towards the chariot, and, halting before it cried "Hold!" in a

"Who art thou?" cried the captain of the chariot, "who darest cry 'hold' to the host of Pharaoh?"

"I am one who have tidings 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 camel

were of purple leather and bossed with silver. Again the Wanderer looked; he knew him not, and yet there

Now the captain of the chariot bade the driver halt the horses, and cried, "Draw near and tell thy tidings."

"To none will I tell my tidings save to him who shall lead the host of Pharaoh. Let him come down from the

"That may not be," said the captain, for he was charged that the Wanderer should have speech with none.

"As thou wilt," answered the aged man upon the camel; "go then, go to thy doom! thou art not the first who

"I am minded to bid the soldiers shoot thee with arrows," cried the captain in anger.

"So shall my wisdom sink in the sand with my blood, and be lost with my breath. Shoot on, thou fool."

Now the captain was perplexed, for from the aspect of the man he 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 took counsel with the captain of

"Descend from the chariot, lord, and walk twelve paces forward, and there hold speech with the man. But if

thou go one pace further, then we will shoot thee and the man with arrows." And this he cried out also to him

Then the man on the camel descended and walked twelve paces forward, and the Wanderer descended also

from the chariot and walked twelve paces forward, but as one who heeds little what he does. Now the two

stood face to face, but out of earshot of the host, who watched them with arrows set upon the strings.

"Greetings, Odysseus of Ithaca, son of Laertes," he said who was clothed in the beggar's weeds.

"Greeting, Rei the Priest, Commander of the Legion of Amen, Chief of the Treasury of Amen."

"Rei the Priest I am indeed," he answered, "the rest I am no more, for Meriamun the Queen has stripped me

of my wealth and offices, because of thee, thou Wanderer, and the Immortal whose love thou hast won, and

by whom thou hast dealt so ill. Hearken! I learned by arts known to me of the dream of Pharaoh, and of thy

sending forth to do battle with the barbarians. Then I disguised myself as thou seest, and took the swiftest

camel in Tanis, and am come hither by another way to meet thee. Now I would ask thee one thing. How came

it that thou didst play the Immortal false that night? Knowest thou that she waited for thee there by the pylon

gate? Ay, there I found her and led her to the Palace, and for that I am stripped of my rank and goods by

Meriamun, and now the Lady of Beauty is returned to her shrine, grieving bitterly for thy faithlessness;

"Methought I heard her voice as those knaves bore me to my dungeon," said the Wanderer. "And she deemed

me faithless! Say, Rei, dost thou know the magic of Meriamun? Dost thou know how she won me to herself

And then, in as few words as might be, he told Rei how he had been led away by the magic of Meriamun,

When Rei heard that the Wanderer had sworn by the Snake, he shuddered. "Now I know all," he said. "Fear

not, thou Wanderer, not on thee shall all the evil fall, nor on that Immortal whom thou dost love; the Snake

"Rei," the Wanderer said, "one thing I charge thee. I know that I go down to my death. Therefore I pray thee

seek out her whom thou namest the Hathor and tell her all the tale of how I was betrayed. So shall I die

happily. Tell her also that I crave her forgiveness and that I love her and her only."

"This I will do if I may," Rei answered. "And now the soldiers murmur and I must be gone. Listen, the might

of the Ninebow barbarians rolls up the eastern branch of Sihor. But one day's march from On the mountains

run down to the edge of the river, and those mountains are pierced by a rocky pass through which the foe will

surely come. Set thou thy ambush there, Wanderer, there at Prosopisso 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

Then he went back to the camel and climbed it, and passing round the army vanished swiftly in a cloud of

The Wanderer also went back to the host, where the captains murmured because of the halt, and mounted his

chariot. But he would tell nothing of what the man had said to him, save that he was surely a messenger from

Then the chariot and the horsemen passed on again, till they came to the city of On, and found the host of

Pharaoh gathering in the great walled space that is before the Temple of Ra. And there they pitched their

camp hard by the great obelisks that stand at the inner gate, which Rei the architect fashioned by Thebes, and

When Meriamun the Queen had watched the chariot of the Wanderer till it was lost in the dust of the desert,

Here she sat in her chamber till the darkness gathered, as the evil thoughts gathered in her heart, that was rent

with love of him whom she had won but to lose. Things had gone ill with her, to little purpose she had sinned

after such a fashion as may not be forgiven. Yet there was hope. He had sworn that he would wed her when

Pharaoh was dead, and when Argive Helen had followed Pharaoh to the Shades. Should she shrink then from

the deed of blood? Nay, from evil to evil she would go. She laid her hand upon the doubleheaded snake that

"Osiris waits thee, MeneptahOsiris 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 tonight. Tomorrow night, thou Goddess Helen,

shall all thy tale be told. Man may not harm thee indeed, but shall fire refuse to kiss thy loveliness? Are there

Then she rose, and calling her 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 somewhat in her breast, and passed to the antechamber, where the Princes gathered for the

Pharaoh looked up and saw her loveliness. So glorious she seemed in her royal beauty that his heart forgot its

woes, and once again he loved her as he had done in years gone by, when she conquered him at the Game of

She saw the look of love grow on his heavy face, and all her gathered hate rose in her breast, though she

They sat at the feast and Pharaoh drank. And ever as he drank she smiled upon him with her dark eyes and

spake him words of gentlest meaning, till at length there was nothing he desired more than that they should

Now the feast was done. They sat in the antechamber, for all were gone save Meneptah and Meriamun.

Then he came to her and took her hand, looking into her eyes, nor did she say him nay.

There was a lute lying on a golden table, and there too, as it chanced, was a board for the Game of Pieces,

Pharaoh took up the gold king from the board and toyed with it in his hand. "Meriamun," he said, "for these

five years we have been apart, thou and I. Thy love I have lost, as a game is lost for one false move, or one

throw of the dice; and our child is dead and our armies are scattered, and the barbarians come like flies when

She looked at him not unkindly, as if sorrow and wrong had softened her heart also, but she did not speak.

"Nay, I know not," she said; "who knows? How did Pentaur sing of Love's renewal, Pentaur the glorious

He laid the gold king on the board, and began listlessly to cast the dice. He threw the "Hathor" as it chanced,

She touched the lute lowly and sweetly, and then she sang. Her thoughts were of the Wanderer, but the King

"Will he not waken again?" said Pharaoh. "If two pray together, will Love refuse their prayer?"

"It might be so," she said, "if two prayed together; for if they prayed, he would have heard already!"

"Meriamun," said the Pharaoh eagerly, for he thought her heart was moved by pity and sorrow, "once thou

"Yes, I will play thee, my Lord, but my hand has lost its cunning, and it may well be that Meriamun shall lose

She set the Pieces, and crossing the room, she lifted a great cup of wine, and put it by Pharaoh's hand. But he

He took the field, he moved, she replied, and so the game went between them, in the dark fragrant chamber

where the lamp burned, and the Queen's eyes shone in the night. This way and that went the game, till she

Then in triumph he drained the poisoned cup of wine, and cried, "Pharaoh is dead!"

And the King grew pale as the dead, for he had seen that look before when Meriamun slew Hataska.

"Pharaoh is dead!" she shrilled in the tone of women who wail the dirges. "Pharaoh, great Pharaoh is dead!

Ere a man may count a hundred thy days are numbered. Strange! but tomorrow, Meneptah, shalt thou sit

where Hataska sat, dead on the knees of Death, an Osirian in the lap of the Osiris. Die, Pharaoh, die! But

while thy diest, hearken. There is one I love, the Wanderer who leads thy hosts. His love I stole by arts

known to me, and because I stole it he would have shamed me, and I accused him falsely in the ears of men.

But he comes again, and, so sure as thou shalt sit on the knees of Osiris, so surely shall he sit upon thy throne,

He heard. He gathered his last strength. He rose and staggered towards her, striking at the air. Slowly she

drew away, while he followed her, awful to see. At length he stood still, he threw up his hands, and fell dead.

"Behold the end of Pharaoh," she said. "That then was a king, upon whose breath the lives of peoples hung

like a poised feather. Well, let him go! Earth can spare him, and Death is but the richer by a weary fool. 'Tis

done, and well done! Would that tomorrow's task were also doneand that Helen lay as Pharaoh lies.

Sorinse the cupand now to sleepif sleep will come. Ah, where hath sleep flown of late? Tomorrow

they'll find him dead. Well, what of it? So do kings ofttimes die. There, I will be going; never were his eyes

Now the light of morning gathered again on all the temple tops, and men rose from sleep to go about their

labours. Meriamun watched it grow as she lay sleepless in her golden bed, waiting for the cry that presently

should ring along the Palace walls. Hark! What was that? The sound of swinging doors, the rush of running

"Pharaoh is dead! Awake! Awake, ye sleepers! Awake! awake! and look upon that which has come about.

"Who dreams so evilly?" she said. "Who dreams and cries aloud in his haunted sleep?"

"O Queen, it is no dream," said one. "Pass into the antechamber and see. There lies Pharaoh dead, and with

Then Meriamun cried aloud with a great cry, and threw her hair about her face, while tears fell from her dark

eyes. She passed into the chamber, and there, fallen on his back and cold, lay Pharaoh in his royal robes.

Awhile the Queen looked upon him as one who is dumb with grief. Then she lifted up her voice and cried:

"Still is the curse heavy upon Khem and the people of Khem. Pharaoh lies dead; yea, he is dead who has no

wound, and this I say, that he is slain of the witchcraft of her whom men name the Hathor. Oh, my Lord, my

Lord!" and kneeling, she laid her hand upon his breast; "by this dead heart of thine I swear that I will wreak

thy murder on her who wrought it. Lift him up! Lift up this poor clay, that was the first of kings. Clothe him

in the robes of death, and set him on the knees of Osiris in the Temple of Osiris. Then go forth through the

city and call out this, the Queen's command; call it from street to street. This is the Queen's command, that

'every woman in Tanis who has lost son, or husband, or brother, or kin or lover, through the witchcraft of the

False Hathor, or by the plagues that she hath wrought on Khem, or in the war with the Apura, whom she

caused to fly from Khem, do meet me at sundown in the Temple of Osiris before the face of the God and of

So they took Meneptah the Osirian, and 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 summoning the women of

the city to meet her at sunset in the Temple of Osiris. Moreover, Meriamun sent out slaves by tens and by

twenties to the number of two thousand, bidding them gather up all the wood that was in Tanis, and all the oil

and the bitumen, and bundles of reeds by hundreds such as are used for the thatching 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,

Now it chanced that the camel of Rei the Priest fell down from weariness as it journeyed swiftly back to

Tanis. But Rei sped forward on foot, and came to the gates of Tanis, sorely wearied, towards the evening of

that day. When he heard the wailing of the women, he asked of a passerby what new evil had fallen upon

Khem, and learned the death of Pharaoh. Then Rei knew by whose hand Pharaoh was dead, and grieved at

heart, because she whom he had served and lovedMeriamun the moonchildwas 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 Meriamun had summoned all the women of Tanis to meet her in the Temple of Osiris,

he had another thought. Hurrying to that place where he hid in the city, he ate and drank. Then he put off his

beggar's rags, and robed himself afresh, and over all drew the garment of an aged crone, for this was told him,

that no man should be suffered to enter the Temple. Now the day was dying, and already the western sky was

red, and he hurried forth and mingled with the stream of women who passed towards the Temple gates.

"Who then slew Pharaoh?" asked one; "and why does the Queen summon us to meet her?"

"Pharaoh is slain by the witchcraft of the False Hathor," answered another; "and the Queen summons us that

"Tell not of the accursed Hathor," said a third; "my husband and my brother are dead at her hands, and my

son died in the death of the firstborn that she called down on Khem. Ah, if I could but see her rent limb

"Some there be," quoth a fourth, "who say that not the Hathor, but the Gods of those Apura brought the woes

on Khem, and some that Pharaoh was slain by the Queen's own hand, because of the love she bears to that

"Thou fool," answered the first; "how can the Queen love one who would have wrought outrage on her?"

"Such things have been," said the fourth woman; "perchance he wrought no outrage, perchance she beguiled

him as women may. Yes, 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. Speak one more such slander on the

"Hush," said the second woman, "here are the Temple gates. By Isis did any ever see such a multitude of

women, and never a man to cheer them, a dreary sight, indeed! Come, push on, push on or we shall find no

place. Yea, thou soldierwe are women, all women, have no fear. No need to bare our breasts, look at our

So they passed by the guards and into the gates of the Temple, and with them went Rei unheeded. Already it

was wellnigh filled with women. Although the sun was not yet dead, torches were set about to lighten the

gloom, and by them Rei saw that the curtains before the Shrine were drawn. Presently the Temple was full to

overflowing, the doors were shut and barred, and a voice from behind the veil cried:

Then all the multitude of women were silent, and the light of the torches flared strangely upon their shifting

upturned faces, as fires flare over the white seafoam. Now the 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 the foremost

ranks of women, it fell upon the polished statue of the Osiris. On the knees of Osiris sat the body of Pharaoh

Meneptah, his head resting against the breast of the God. Pharaoh was wrapped about with winding clothes

like the marble statue of the God, and in his cold hands were bound the crook, the sceptre, and the scourge, as

the crook, the sceptre, and the scourge were placed in the hands of the effigy of the God. As was the statue of

the God, so was the body of Pharaoh that sat upon his knees, and cold and awful was the face of Osiris, and

At the side, and somewhat in front of the statue of the God, a throne was placed of blackest marble, and on

the throne sat Meriamun the Queen. She was glorious to look on. She wore the royal robes of Khem, the

doublecrown of Khem fashioned of gold, and wreathed with the uraeus snakes, was set upon her head; in

her hand was the crystal cross of Life, and between her mantle's purple folds gleamed the eyes of her snake

girdle. She sat awhile in silence speaking no word, and all the women wondered at her glory and at dead

Pharaoh's awfulness. Then at length she spoke, low indeed, but so clearly that every word reached the limits

"Women of Tanis, hear me, the Queen. Let each search the face of each, and if there be any man among your

multitude, let him be dragged forth and torn limb from limb, for in this matter no man may hear our counsels,

Now every woman looked upon her neighbour, and she who was next to Rei looked hard upon him so that he

trembled for his life. But he crouched into the shadow and stared back on her boldly as though he doubted if

she were indeed a woman, and said no word. When all had looked, and no man had been found, Meriamun

"Hearken, women of Tanis, hearken to your sister and your Queen. Woe upon woe is fallen on the head of

Khem. Plague upon plague hath smitten the ancient land. Our firstborn are dead, our slaves have spoiled us

and fled away, our hosts have been swallowed in the Sea of Weeds, and barbarians swarm along our shores

"A strange evil hath fallen on the head of Khem. A false Goddess is come to dwell within the land; her

sorceries are great in the land. Month by month men go up to look upon her deadly beauty, and month by

month they are slain of her sorceries. She takes the husband from his marriage bed; she draws the lover from

her who waits to be a bride; the slave flies to her from the household of his lord; the priests flock to her from

the altars of the Godsay, the very priests of Isis flock forsworn from the altars of Isis. All look upon her

witch beauty, and to each she shows an altered loveliness, and to all she gives one guerdonDeath! Is it

"Woes are fallen on you and Khem, my sisters, but on me most of all are woes fallen. My people have been

slain, my landthe 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

fled, my armies have been swallowed in the sea; and last, O my sisters, my consort, my beloved lord, mighty

Pharaoh, son of great Rameses Miamun, hath 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

summon one single answering sigh from that stilled heart. The curse hath fallen on him also. He too hath

been smitten silently with everlasting silence. Look! look! ye who are wives, and weep with me, ye who are

Now the women looked, and a great groan went up from all that multitude, while Meriamun hid her face with

"I have besought the Gods, my sisters; I have dared to call down the majesty of the Gods, who speak through

the lips of the dead, and I have learnt whence these woes come. And this I have won by my prayers, that ye

who suffer as I suffer shall learn whence they come, not from my mortal lips, indeed, but from the lips of the

Then, while the women trembled, she turned to the body of Pharaoh, which was set upon the knees of Osiris,

"Dead Pharaoh! great Osirian, ruling in the Underworld, hearken to me now! Hearken to me now, thou

Osiris, Lord of the West, first of the hosts 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 people may

hear and understand. By the spirit that is in me, who am yet a dweller on the earth, I charge thee speak. Who

is the source of the woes of Khem? Say, Lord of the dead, who are the living evermore?"

Now the flame on the altar died away, and dreadful silence fell upon the Temple, gloom fell upon the Shrine,

and through the gloom the golden crown of Meriamun, and the cold statue of the Osiris, and the white face of

Then suddenly the flame of the altar flared as flares the summer lightning. It flared full on the face of the

dead, and lo! the lips of the dead moved, and from them came the sound of mortal speech. They spake in

"She who was the curse of Ach�ans, she who was the doom of Ilios; she who sits in the Temple of Hathor,

the Fate of man, who may not be harmed of Man, she calls down the wrath of the Gods on Khem. It is

The echo of the awful words died away in the silence. Then fear took hold of the multitude of women

because of the words of the Dead, and some fell upon their faces, and some covered their eyes with their

"Arise, my sisters!" cried the voice of Meriamun. "Ye have heard not from my lips, but from the lips of the

dead. Arise, and let us forth to the Temple of the Hathor. Ye have heard who is the fountain of our woes; let

us forth and seal it at its source for ever. Of men she 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. But we will play the part

of men. Our women's milk shall freeze within our breasts, we will dip our tender hands in blood, ay, scourged

by a thousand wrongs we will forget our gentleness, and tear this foul fairness from its home. We will burn

the Hathor's Shrine with fire, 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

She ceased, and then from every woman's throat within the great Temple there went up a cry of rage, fierce

"We will, Meriamun, we will!" they screamed. "To the Hathor! Lead us to the Hathor's Shrine! Bring fire!

Rei the Priest saw and heard. Then turning, he stole away through the maddened throng of women and fled

with what speed he might from the Temple. His heart was filled with fear and shame, for he knew full well

that Pharaoh was dead, not at the hand of Hathor, but at the hand of Meriamun the Queen, whom he had

loved. He knew well that dead Meneptah spake not with the voice of the dread Gods, but with the voice of the

magic of Meriamun, who, of all women that have been since the days of Taia, was the most skilled in evil

magic, the lore of the Snake. He knew also that Meriamun would slay Helen for the same cause wherefore

she had slain Pharaoh, that she might win the Wanderer to her arms. While Helen lived he was not to be won

Now Rei was a righteous man, loving the 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 were left to him. He

would warn the Helen so that she might fly the fire if so she willed, ay, and would tell her all the wickedness

His old feet stumbled over each other as he fled till he came to the gates of the Temple of the Hathor, and

"No woman hath passed up to look upon the Hathor," said the priest. "That women do not seek."

Then Rei made a secret sign, and wondering greatly that a woman should have the inner wisdom, the priest

"If thou art a mortal messenger, woman, thou goest to thy doom," said the priest.

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 of bronze, and

entered fearfully. But none fell upon him, nor was he smitten of invisible spears. Before him swung the

curtains of Tyrian web, but no sound of singing came from behind the curtains. All was silence in the Shrine.

He passed between the curtains and looked up the Sanctuary. It was lit with many hanging lamps, and by

their light he saw the Goddess Helen, seated between the pillars of her loom. 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 shining cloth of gold. The

Goddess Helen sat songless 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

Rei drew near trembling, though she seemed to see him not at all, and at last flung himself upon the earth

"Who art thou that dares to break in upon my sorrow?" she said wonderingly. "Art thou indeed a woman

"No woman am I, immortal Lady. I am Rei, that aged priest who met thee two nights gone by the pylon gates,

and led thee to the Palace of Pharaoh. And I have dared to seek thy Shrine to tell thee that thou art in danger

at the hands of Meriamun the Queen, and also to give thee a certain message with which I am charged by him

"Didst thou not but now name me immortal, Rei? How then can I be in danger, who am immortal, and not to

be harmed of men? Death hath no part in me. Speak not to me of dangers, who, alas! can never die till

everything is done; but tell me of that faithless Wanderer, whom I must love with all the womanhood that

shuts my spirit in, and all my spirit that is clothed in womanhood. For, Rei, the Gods, withholding Death,

have in wrath cursed me with love to torment my deathlessness. Oh, when I saw him standing where now

thou standest, my soul knew its other part, and I learned that the curse I give to others had fallen on myself

"Yet was this Wanderer not altogether faithless to thee, Lady," said Rei. "Listen, and I will tell thee all."

Then Rei told Helen all that tale which the Wanderer had charged him to deliver in her ear, and keep no word

back. He told her how Meriamun had beguiled Eperitus in her shape; how he had fallen in the snare and

sworn by the Snake, he who should have sworn by the Star. He told her how the Wanderer had learned the

truth, and learning it, had cursed the witch who wronged him; how he had been overcome by the guards and

borne to the bed of torment; how he had been freed by the craft of Meriamun; and how he had gone forth to

lead the host of Khem. All this he told her swiftly, hiding naught, while she listened with eager ears.

"Truly," she said, when all was told, "truly thou art a happy messenger. Now I forgive him all. Yet has he

sworn by the Snake who should have sworn by the Star, and because of his fault never in this space of life

shall Helen call him Lord. Yet will we follow him, Rei. Hark! what is that? Again it comes, that long shrill

"It is the Queen," quoth Rei; "the Queen who with all women of Tanis comes hither to burn thee in thy

Shrine. She hath slain Pharaoh, and now she would slay thee also, and so win the Wanderer to her arms. Fly,

"Nay, I fly not," said Helen. "Let her come. But do thou, Rei, pass through the Temple gates and mingle with

the crowd. There thou shalt await my coming, and when I come, draw near, fearing nothing; and together we

will pass down the path of the Wanderer in such fashion as I shall show thee. Go! go swiftly, and bid those

Then Rei turned and fled. Without the doors of the Shrine many priests were gathered.

"This old crone is mad," quoth one. "We watch the Hathor, and, come all the women of the world, we fly

He passed the gates, the gates clashed behind him. He won the outer space, and hiding in the shadows of the

Temple walls, looked forth. The night was dark, but from every side a thousand lights poured down towards

the Shrine. On they came like lanterns on the waters of Sihor at the night of the feast of lanterns. Now he

could see their host. It was the host of the women of Tanis, and every woman bore a lighted torch. They came

by tens, by hundreds, and by thousands, and before them was Meriamun, seated in a golden chariot, and with

them were asses, oxen, and camels, laden with bitumen, wood, and reeds. Now they gained the gates, and

now they crashed them in with battering trees of palm. The gates fell, the women poured through them. At

their head went Meriamun the Queen. Bidding certain of them stay by her chariot she passed through, and

"Who art thou who darest come up with fire against the holy Temple of the Hathor?" asked the guardian of

"I am Meriamun, the Queen of Khem," she answered, "come with the women of Tanis to slay the Witch thou

"If indeed thou art the Queen," answered the priest, "here there sits a greater Queen than thou. Go back! Go

back, Meriamun, who art not afraid to offer violence to the immortal Gods. Go back! lest the curse smite

"Draw on! draw on! ye women," cried Meriamun; "draw on, smite down the gates, and tear these wicked

Then the women screamed aloud and battered on the gates with trees, so that they fell. They fell and the

women rushed in madly. They seized the priests of Hathor and tore them limb from limb as dogs tear a wolf.

"Touch not the doors," cried Meriamun. "Bring fire and burn the Shrine with her who dwells therein. Touch

not the doors, look not in the Witch's face, but burn her where she is with fire."

Then the women brought the reeds and the wood, and piled them around the Shrine to twice the height of a

man. They brought ladders also, and piled the fuel upon the roof of the Shrine till all was covered. And they

poured pitch over the fuel, and then at the word of Meriamun they cast torches on the pitch and drew back

screaming. For a moment the torches smouldered, then suddenly on every side great tongues of flame leapt

up to heaven. Now the Shrine was wrapped in fire, and yet they cast fuel on it till none might draw near

because of the heat. Now it burned as a furnace burns, and now the fire reached the fuel on the roof. It caught,

and the Shrine was but a sheet of raging flame that lit the whitewalled city, and the broad face of the waters,

as the sun lights the lands. The alabaster walls of the Shrine turned whiter yet with heat: they cracked and

"Now there is surely an end of the Witch," cried Meriamun, and the women screamed an answer to her.

But even as they screamed a great tongue of flame shot out through the molten doors, ten fathoms length and

more, it shot like a spear of fire. Full in its path stood a group of the burners. It struck them, it licked them up,

Rei looked down the path of the flame. There, in the doorway whence it had issued, stood the Golden Hathor,

wrapped round with fire, and the molten metal 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

through the glow of the furnace he saw the light of the Red Star at her breast. The flame licked her form and

face, it wrapped itself around her, and curled through the masses of her hair. But still she stood unharmed,

while the burners shrank back amazed, all save Meriamun the 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, forgetting their rage, clung to one another in fear. Thus she sangof that Beauty which men seek in all

women, and never find, and of the eternal war for her sake between the women and the men, which is the

Then, still singing, she stepped forward from the Shrine, and as she went the walls fell in, and the roof

crashed down upon the ruin and the flames shot up into the very sky. Helen heeded it not. She looked not

back, but out to the gates beyond. She glanced not at the fierce blackened faces of the women, nor on the face

of Meriamun, 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 their eyes. Meriamun alone fell not, but she too must cover her eyes

because of the glory of Helen and the 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 and have no fear. Draw nigh that I may pass with thee down that path the

Wanderer treads. Draw nigh, and let us swiftly hence, for the hero's last battle is at hand, and I would greet

Rei heard her and drew near trembling, tearing from him the woman's weeds he wore, and showing the

priest's garb beneath. And as he came the fire that wrapped her glory round left her, and passed upward like a

Then he led her to the chariot, while those who stood by fled in fear. She mounted the chariot, and he set

himself beside her. Then he grasped the reins and called to the horses, and they bounded forward and were

"The Witch is gone, gone with my own servant whom she 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

Now the host of Pharaoh marched forth from On, to do battle with the Ninebow barbarians. And before the

host marched, the Captains came to the Wanderer, according to the command of Pharaoh, and placing their

hands in his, swore to do his bidding on the march and in the battle. They brought him the great black bow of

Eurytus, and his keen sword of bronze, Euryalus' gift, and many a sheaf of arrows, and his heart rejoiced

when he saw the goodly weapon. He took the bow and tried it, and as he drew the string, once again and for

the last time it sang shrilly of death to be. The Captains heard the Song of the Bow, though what it said the

Wanderer knew alone, for to their ears it came but as a faint, keen cry, like the cry of one who drowns in the

water far from the kindly earth. But they marvelled much at the wonder, and said one to another that this man

Then the Wanderer mounted the chariot of bronze that had been made ready for him, and gave the word to

All night the host marched swiftly, and at daybreak they camped beneath the shelter of a long, low hill. But

at the sunrise the Wanderer left the host, climbed the hill with certain of the Captains, and looked forth.

Before him was a great pass in the mountains, ten furlongs or more in length, and through it ran the road. The

sides of the mountain sloped down to the road, and were strewn with rocks split by the sun, polished by the

sand, and covered over with bush that grew sparsely, like the hair on the limbs of a man. To the left of the

mountains lay the river Sihor, but none might pass between the mountain and the river. The Wanderer

descended from the hill, and while the soldiers ate, drove swiftly in his chariot to the further end of the pass

and looked forth again. Here the river curved to the left, leaving a wide plain, and on the plain he saw the host

of the Ninebow barbarians, the mightiest host that ever his eyes had looked upon. They were encamped by

nations, and of each nation there was twenty thousand men, and beyond the glittering camp of the barbarians

he saw the curved ships of the Ach�ans. They were drawn up on the beach of the great river, as many a year

ago he had seen them drawn up on the shore that is by Ilios. He looked upon plain and pass, on mountain and

river, and measured the number of the foe. Then his heart was filled with the lust of battle, and his warlike

cunning awoke. For of all leaders he was the most skilled in the craft of battle, and he desired that this, his

Turning his horses' heads, he galloped back to the host of Pharaoh and mustered them in battle array. It was

but a little number as against the number of the barbarianstwelve 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 flew down from the right, and fell on a heron, and slew it in midair. The host shouted,

for the hawk is the Holy Bird of Ra, and the Wanderer, too, rejoiced in the omen. "Look, men," he cried; "the

Bird of Ra has slain the wandering thief 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 barbarian 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

rocks and thorns on either side of the mountain pass, and there to wait till he drew the hosts of the 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

Now, when the ambush was set, and all were gone save the horsemen only, his spies came in and told him

that the host of the barbarians marched from their camp, but that the Ach�ans marched not, but stopped by

the river to guard the camp and ships. Then the Wanderer bade the horsemen ride through the pass and stand

in the plain beyond, and there await the foe. But when the hosts of the barbarians charged them, they must

reel before the charge, and at length fly headlong down the pass as though in fear. And he himself would lead

So 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 midday sun sparkling on their countless spears. Of horsemen 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 the host of each nation sat the king of the nation in a

glorious chariot, with girls and eunuchs, holding fans to fan him with and awnings of silk to hide him from

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 him as though in

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 Wanderer

turned his chariot and fled through the pass, followed slowly by the horsemen. And when the hosts of the

barbarians saw them turn, they set up a mighty shout of laughter that rent the skies, and charged after them.

But the Wanderer looked back and laughed also. Now he was through the pass followed by the horsemen,

and after them swept the hosts of the barbarians, like a river that has burst its banks. Still the Wanderer held

his hand till the whole pass was choked with the thousands of the foe, ay, until the half of the first of the

nations had passed into the narrow plain that lay between the hill and the mouth of the pass. Then, driving

apace up the hill, he stood in his chariot and gave the signal. Lifting his golden shield on high he flashed it

thrice, and all 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. At the second flash there came a rattling sound of shaken

quivers, and at the third flash of the golden shield, the air was darkened with the flight of arrows. As the

seabirds on a lonely isle awake at the cry of the sailor, and wheel by thousands from their lofty cliffs, so at

the third flash of the Wanderer's shield the arrows of his hidden host rushed downward on the foe, rattling

like hail upon the 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

companies and trampling the soldiers down. Now some strove to fly forward, and some were fain to fly back,

and many an empty chariot was dragged this way and that, but ever the pitiless rain of shafts poured down,

and men fell by thousands beneath the gale of death. Now the mighty host of the Ninebows rolled back,

thinned and shattered, towards the plain, and now the Wanderer cried the word of onset to the horsemen and

to the chariots that drew from behind the shelter of the hill, and following after him they charged down upon

those barbarians who had passed 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 great man, black and terrible to see. The

Wanderer drew his bow, the arrow rushed forth and pierced the king, and he fell dead in his chariot. Then

those of his host who passed the ambush turned to fly, but the chariot of the Wanderer dashed into them, and

after the chariot came the horsemen, and after the horsemen the chariots of Pharaoh.

Now all who were left of the broken host rolled back, mad with fear, while the spearmen of Pharaoh galled

them as hunters gall a flying bull, and the horsemen of Pharaoh trampled them beneath their feet. Red

slaughter raged all down the pass, helms, banners, arrowpoints shone and fell in the stream 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 Ninebow barbarians? Where now were their glory and their pride?

The Wanderer gathered his footmen and his chariots and set them in array again but the horsemen he sent out

to smite the flying nations and wait his coming by the camp; for there were mustering those who were left of

the nations, perchance twenty thousand men, and before their ships were ranged the dense ranks of the

The Wanderer led his host slowly across the sandy plain, till at length he halted it two bowshots from the

camp of the barbarians. The camp was shaped like a bow, and the river Sihor 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 Ach�ans. There were the old blazons, and the spears that had fought below Troy town.

There were the two lions of Mycen�, the Centaur of the son of Polypaetas, son of Pirithous; there were the

Swan of Laced�mon, and the Bull of the Kings of Crete, the Rose of Rhodes, the Serpent of 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

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 slaughtered thousands, and 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

Captains of the host of Pharaoh came to the Wanderer, praying him that he would do no more battle on that

But he answered them: "I swore to Pharaoh that I would utterly smite the people of the Ninebows 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 Ach�ans, and no more shall we lure them into ambush, for therein they have learned a lesson. Nay, get

Then they bowed and went, for having seen his deeds and his skill and craft in war, they held him the first of

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 rolled back

from the wall as a wave is rolled from the cliff. Again the Wanderer bade them charge on the right and left,

bearing the dead before them 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 the gate should be

Now the mercenaries of Pharaoh forced a passage on the right and thither went many of the barbarians who

Then the Wanderer bade 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 he

passed the mercenaries of Pharaoh were driven out from the camp on the right, and those who led the left

attack fled also. The soldiers who should have followed the Wanderer saw and wavered a little moment, and

while they wavered the companies of the barbarians poured into the gateway and held it so that none might

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 grey 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

So the charioteer, praying to his Gods, lashed the horses with his scourge, and they sprang forward madly

among the foe. And as they rushed, the great bow rang and sang the swallow stringrung the bow and sung

the string, and the lean shaft drank the blood of a leader of men. Again the string sang, again the shaft sped

forth, and a barbarian king fell from his chariot as a diver plunges into the sea, and his teeth bit the sand.

"Dive deep, thou seathief!" cried the Wanderer, "thou mayest find treasures there! Drive on, thou charioteer,

Now the barbarians looked on the Wanderer and were amazed. For ever his chariot rushed to and fro, across

the mustering ground of the camp, and ever his grey shafts carried 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 Sutek the Splendid, that it was Baal in his strength;

they fled amain before his glory and his might. For the Wanderer raged among them like great Rameses

Miamun among the tribes of the Khita; like Monthu, the Lord of Battles, and lo! they fled before him, their

knees gave way, 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 directed the chariot, and sunk in between his

eyes, so that he fell down dead from the chariot. Then the reins flew wide, and the horses rushed this way and

that, having no master. And now a spear pierced the heart of the horse on the right, so that he fell, and the

pole of the chariot snapped in two. Then the barbarians took heart and turned, and some of them set on to

seize the body of the charioteer, and spoil his arms. But the Wanderer leaped down and bestrode the corpse

Now among the press of the barbarians there was a stir, as 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 flesh was very fair and white, and on it were figures pricked in blue,

figures of men and horses, snakes and seabeasts. 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 pinetree, in which was hafted a weighty axehead of rough

"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 watch a great fight.

"Who art thou?" said the mighty man disdainfully, "and whence? Where is thy city, and thy parents who

"Now I will avow that men call me Odysseus, Sacker of Cities, Laertes' son, a Prince of the Ach�ans," said

the Wanderer. "And who art thou, I pray thee, and where is thy native place, for city, I wot, thou hast none?"

Then the mighty man, swinging his great stone axe in a rhythmic motion, began to chant a rude lay, and this

With that, and with a cry, he rushed on the Wanderer, his great axe swung aloft, to fell him at a blow.

But while the giant had been singing, the Wanderer had shifted his place a little, so that the red blaze of the

setting sun was in his face. And as the mighty man came on, the Wanderer lifted up his golden shield and

caught the sunlight on it, and flashed it full in the giant's eyes, so that he was dazzled, and could not see to

strike. Then the Wanderer smote at his naked right arm, and struck it on the joint of the elbow; with all his

force he smote, and the short sword of Euryalus bit deep, and the arm fell, with the axe in the handgrip. But

so terrible was the stroke that bronze might not abide it, and the blade was shattered from the ivory handle.

"Didst thou feel aught, thou Maneater?" cried Odysseus, jeering, for he knew from the song of the giant that

he was face to face with a wanderer from an evil race, that of old had smitten his ships and devoured his

But the giant caught up his club of pinetree in his left hand, the severed right arm still clinging to it. And he

gnawed on the handle of the stone axe with his teeth, and bit the very stone, and his lips foamed, for a fury

came upon him. Roaring aloud, suddenly he smote at the Wanderer's head, and beat down his shield, and

crushed his golden helm so that he fell on one 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 head 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 weight of a chariot's burden, and poising it, he hurled it straight at the breast of the Laestrygon, who

had drawn back, whirling his axe, before he smote another blow. But ere ever the stroke fell, the huge stone

struck him full and broke in his breast bone, and he staggered long, and fell like a tree, and the black blood

Then the multitude of the barbarians that stood gazing at the fray drew yet further back in fear, and the

Wanderer laughed like a God at that old score paid, and at the last great stroke of the hands of the

The Wanderer laughed like a God, though he deemed that the end was near, and the foes within the camp and

"Slay him!" cried the foes within, speaking in many tongues. "Slay him!" they cried, and yet they feared the

"Spare him!" shouted the host of the Ach�ans, watching the fray from far, as they stood behind their inner

wall, for as yet they had not mingled in the battle but stayed by their ships to guard them.

"Rescue!" 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 great 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

The Wanderer turned his head and looked swiftly. A golden chariot sped down the slope of sand towards the

gate of the camp. The milkwhite horses were stained with sweat and splashed with blood. They thundered

on towards the gate down the way that was red with blood, as the horses of the dawn rush through the

bloodred 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 evening 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

On the chariot rushed to the camp, and after it the host of Pharaoh followed. The holders of the gate saw the

beauty of her 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 Pharaoh. Now Rei reined up the horses by the broken chariot of the Wanderer, and now

"And art thou come to be with me in my last 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 spears, and is this the

"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!

Then the Wanderer turned and called to the Captains, and the Captains called to the soldiers and set them in

array, and following the blood 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 Pharaoh leapt upon the foe 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 Ninebow barbarians was utterly destroyed, and the host of Pharaoh came up against the

wall that was set about the camp of the Ach�ans to guard their ships, and at its head came the golden chariot

wherein were the Wanderer and Helen. The Captains of the Ach�ans looked wondering from their wall,

"Now, who is this?" cried a Captain, "who is this clad in golden armour fashioned like our own, who leads

"Such armour I have known indeed, and such a man once wore it. The armour is fashioned like the armour of

"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

"Such a one have I 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 IliosArgive Helen it was who wore itHelen, because of whose

Now the Wanderer glanced from his chariot and saw the crests of the Ach�ans and the devices on the shields

of men with whose fathers he had fought beneath the walls of Ilios. He saw and his heart was stirred within

"Alas! for the fate that is on me," he cried, "that I must make my last battle in the service of a stranger against

"Weep not, Odysseus," said Helen, "for Fate drives thee onFate that is cruel and changeless, and heeds not

the loves or hates of men. Weep not, Odysseys, but go on up against the Ach�ans, for from among them thy

So the Wanderer went on, sick at heart, shooting no shafts and striking no blow, and after him came the

remnant of the host of Pharaoh. Then he halted the host, and at his bidding Rei drove 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 Wanderer doomed. He took no hurt, nor did 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 while they

drove thus Rei told the Wanderer of the death of Pharaoh, of the burning of the Temple of Hathor, and of the

flight of Helen. The Wanderer hearkened and said but one thing, for in all this he saw the hand of Fate.

"It is time to make an end, Rei, for soon will Meriamun be seeking us, and methinks that I have left a trail

that she can follow," and he nodded at the piledup dead that stretched further than the eye could reach.

Now they were come over against that spot in the wall where stood the aged Captain of the Ach�ans, who

had likened the armour of the Wanderer to the armour of Paris, and the beauty of her at his side to the beauty

The Captain loosed his bow at the chariot, and leaning forward watched the flight of the shaft. It rushed

straight at Helen's breast, then of a sudden turned aside, harming her not. And as he marvelled she lifted her

face and looked towards him. Then he saw and knew her for that Helen whom he had seen while he served

with Cretan Idomeneus in the Argive ships, when the leaguer was done and the smoke went up from burning

Again he looked, and lo! on the Wanderer's golden shield he saw the White Bull, the device of Paris, 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

"Fly, ye Ach�ans! Fly! Back to your curved ships and away from this accursed land. For yonder in the

chariot stands Argive Helen, who is long dead, and with her Paris, son of Priam, come to wreak the woes of

Then a great cry of fear rose from the host of the Ach�ans, as company called to company that the ghosts of

Paris of Ilios and Argive Helen led the armies of Pharaoh on to victory. A moment they gazed as frightened

sheep gaze upon the creeping wolves, then turning from the wall, they rushed headlong to their ships.

Behind them came the soldiers of Pharaoh, storming the walls and tearing at their flanks as wolves tear the

flying sheep. Then the Ach�ans turned at bay, and a mighty fray raged round the ships, and the 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 for the end of the fray.

Now the sun was gone down, so that men could scarce see to slay each other. The Wanderer stood his chariot

on the bank, watching the battle, for he was weary, and had little mind to swell the slaughter of the people of

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 Ach�ans. 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 Ach�ans.

He stood upon the poop of the ship, and saw the light from the burning vessels gleam on 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

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. It rushed on, it smote the Wanderer with a deadly wound where the golden

bodyplate of his harness joined the taslets, and pierced him through. Then he knew that his fate was

accomplished, and that death came upon him from the water, as the ghost of Tiresias in Hades had foretold.

In his pain, for the last time of all, he let fall his shield and the black bow of Eurytus. With one hand he

clasped the rail of the chariot and the other he threw about the neck of the Golden Helen, who bent beneath

"Oh, Telegonus, 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

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 away. 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 Ach�ans 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 the greatness of the victory of

Now the chariots of Meriamun were pursuing, and they splashed through the blood of men in the pass, and

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 by 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 Wanderer lay dying on the ground, there by the riverbank, and the light of the burning ships flamed on

Now Meriamun sprang from her chariot and walked, through the soldiers who made way, bowing before her

"Hail! O Queen!" he said, "I have accomplished the charge that Pharaoh laid upon me. The host of the

Ninebow barbarians is utterly destroyed, the fleet of the Aquaiusha is burned, or fled, the land of Khem is

"Pharaoh is dead, Odysseus," she answered. "Oh, live on! live on! and thyself thou shalt be Pharaoh."

"Ay, Meriamun the Queen," answered the Wanderer, "I know all. The Pharaoh is dead! Thou didst slay

Pharaoh, thinking thus to win me for thy Lord, me, who am won of Death. Heavily shall the blood of Pharaoh

lie upon thee in that land whither I go, Meriamun, and whither thou must follow swiftly. Thou didst slay

Pharaoh, and Helen, who through thy guile is lost to me, thou wouldst have slain also, but thou couldst not

harm her immortality. And now I die, and this is the end of all these Loves and Wars and Wanderings. My

Meriamun stood speechless, for her heart was torn in two, so that in her grief she forgot even her rage against

Then Helen spoke. "Thou diest indeed, Odysseus, yet it is but for a little time, for thou shalt come again and

"Ay, Odysseus," said the Queen, "and I also will come again, and thou shalt love me then. Oh, now the future

opens, and I know the things that are to be. Beneath the Wings of Truth shall we meet again, Odysseus."

"There shall we meet again, Odysseus, and there thou shalt draw the Veil of Truth," said the Helen.

"Yea," quoth the dying Wanderer; "there or otherwhere shall we meet again, and there and otherwhere love

and hate shall lose and win, and die to arise again. But not yet is the struggle ended that began in other worlds

than this, and shall endure till evil is lost in good, and darkness swallowed up in light. Bethink thee,

Meriamun, of that vision of thy bridal night, and read its riddle. Lo! I will answer it with my last breath as the

Gods have 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. Oh, Helen, fare thee well! I have sinned against thee, I

have sworn by the Snake who should have sworn by the Star, and therefore I have lost thee."

"Thou hast but lost to find again beyond the Gateways 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 men that

fell ever from the Star upon her breast, dropped like dew upon his brow, and vanished as it dropped.

And as she whispered of joy to be, and things too holy to be written, the face of the Wanderer grew bright,

Then suddenly his head fell back, and he was dead, dead upon the heart of the World's Desire. For thus was

fulfilled the oath of Idalian Aphrodite, and thus at the last did Odysseus lie in the arms of the Golden Helen.

Now Meriamun clasped her breast, and her lips turned white with pain. But Helen rose, and standing at the

"My sister," said Helen to the Queen; "see now the end of all. He whom we loved is lost to us, and what hast

thou gained? Nay, look not so fiercely on me. I may not be harmed of thee, as thou hast seen, and thou

mayest not be harmed of me, who would harm none, though ever thou wilt hate me who hate thee not, and till

Then Helen beckoned to Rei and spake to him, and Rei went weeping to do her bidding.

Presently he returned again, and with him were 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 Wanderer on the pyre, and

Then Helen spoke to Rei once more, and Rei took a torch and fired the pyre so that smoke and flame burst

Now the great 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 great cry, and tearing

"From fire thou camest, thou Ancient Evil," she said in a dead tongue; "to fire get thee back again, false

"An ill deed thou hast done, O Queen, for thou hast taken the Snake to thy bosom, and where the Snake

Even as he spoke the face of Meriamun grew fixed, and she was drawn slowly towards the fire, as though by

invisible hands. Now she stood on its very brink, and now with one loud wail she plunged into it and cast

And as she lay there on the body, behold the Snake awoke in the fire. It awoke, it grew, it twined itself about

the body of Meriamun and the body of the Wanderer, and lifting its head, it laughed.

Then the fire fell in, and the Wanderer and Meriamun the Queen, and the Snake that wrapped them round,

For awhile the Golden Helen stood still, looking on the dying fire. Then she let her veil fall, and turning,

Now this is the tale that I, Rei the Priest, have been bidden to set forth before I lay me down to sleep in my

splendid tomb that I have made ready by Thebes. Let every man read it as he will, and every woman as the