The Yoke Part 21

The old woman laid her shriveled hands on the arm of her ward.

"Aye, and it shall be paid," she said fiercely. "Thou canst not get thy people back, nor alleviate for them now the pangs that killed them; but to the mortally wronged there is one rest.i.tution--revenge!"

At this moment some one over near the western limits of the camp cried out a welcome; a commotion arose, noisy with cheers and rapid with running. Presently it died down and the pair before the tent saw a horseman ride through the gloom toward the empty frame house of the overseer.

The two women lapsed immediately into their absorbed communion again.

"Lay it not to Egypt alone, but to all the offenders against Jehovah.

Midian and Amalek, pa.s.sing through to do homage to the Pharaoh, sneer at Israel; Babylon in her chariot of gold flicks her whip at the sons of Abraham as she bears her gifts of sisterhood to Memphis. We suffer not only the insults of a single nation, but despiteful use by all idolaters. Let but the world gather before Jehovah's altar and there shall be no more affronts to Israel."

"Must we bide that time?" Rachel asked. "Or shall we bring it about?"

"Nay," Deborah replied scornfully. "Even my mystic eyes are not potent enough to see so far into the future. We throw off the bondage sooner than thou dreamest, daughter of Judah, but if the nations bow at the altar of Jehovah, it will take a stronger hand than Israel's to bring them there."

After a silence Rachel murmured, as though to herself: "We shall go, and soon, and leave no debt behind. Will the vengeance befall all Egypt, the good as well as the bad?"

"Hast thou forgotten G.o.d's promise to Abraham concerning the wicked cities of the plain? If there were ten righteous therein He had not destroyed them utterly."

"Nay, but if there be but one therein?"

"One? Now, for what one dost thou concern thyself? Atsu?"

Rachel, startled out of her dream, hesitated, her face coloring hotly, though unseen, beneath the kindly dusk of night.

"Yea," she said in a low tone, wondering gravely if she spake the truth. Somebody beside her laughed the short unready laugh of one slow at mirth.

"Of a truth?" he asked. Rachel turned about and faced Atsu. He took her hands and drew her near him.

"Nay, Deborah," he said sadly; "pursue her not into the secret chambers of her young heart. I doubt not there is 'one' therein, but why shall we demand what manner of 'one' it is when she may not even confess it to herself?"

Confused and a little guilty by reason of the necklace, and wondering why she admitted any guilt, Rachel drew away from him.

"Nay," he went on, retaining his clasp. "Let there be perfect understanding between us twain, thou Radiant One. I shall not plague thee with my love, nor even let it be apparent after this. Men have lived in constant fellows.h.i.+p, but no nearer to the women whom they love, and am I less able than my kind? So I be not hateful to thee, Rachel, I am content."

"Hateful to me!" she cried reproachfully.

"Nay? No more then. I have spoken the last with thee concerning my love. And thus I seal the pact."

He drew her, unresisting, to him, and kissed her forehead.

"For my gentleness to the Hebrews of Pa-Ramesu," he continued in a calmer tone as he released her, "they have stripped me of my rank and sent me to govern Masaarah. So they thought to punish me, never dreaming that they joined me to Rachel, and hid me away in a nook with a handful to whom I may be merciful and none will spy upon me! They thwarted their end."

"Happy Masaarah!" Rachel said earnestly.

Atsu laughed again and disappeared in the dark.

Rachel drew her hand furtively across the place on her brow that the taskmaster's lips had touched. The keen eyes of the old Israelite saw the motion and understood it.

"It is not Atsu," she said astutely.

"Nay," the girl protested, "and yet it is Atsu, in mine own meaning, or any one in Egypt who is fair to Israel. The grace of that one would be sufficient in G.o.d's sight to save all Egypt from doom. That was my meaning."

The light in the frame quarters of the taskmaster was extinguished and at that moment a shadowy figure emerged from the dark and approached the pair.

"A courier from Mesu speaketh without the camp, even now," the visiting Israelite said in a half-whisper. "Atsu hath put out his light, to sleep, but even if he sleep not, the people may go without fear and listen to the speaker. Come ye and give him audience."

"We come," Deborah replied.

As the old woman and her ward walked down through the night in the direction taken by the entire population of the quarries, Deborah said quietly:

"Thy cloud of depression hath rifted somewhat since sunset, daughter."

Rachel pressed her hand repentantly.

At the side of an open s.p.a.ce, now closely filled with sitting listeners, stood a Hebrew, not older than thirty-five. A knot of flaming pitch, stuck in a crevice of rock near him, lighted his face and figure. His frame had the characteristic stalwart structure of the Israelitish bondman. The black hair waved back from a placid white forehead; the eyes were serene and level, the mouth rather wide but firm, the jaw square. The beard would have been light for a much younger man, and it was soft, red-brown and curling. It added a mildness and tenderness to the face. Whoever looked upon him was impressed with the unflinching piety of the countenance.

This was Caleb the Faithful, son of Jephunneh, the Kenezite.

He was talking when Rachel and her ancient guardian entered the hollow, and he continued in a pa.s.sive tone throughout the several arrivals thereafter. He spoke as one that believes unfalteringly and has evidence for the faith. He did not recount Israel's wrongs--he would have worked against his purpose had he wrought his hearers into an angry mood. Besides, the story would have been superfluous. None knew Israel's wrongs better than Israel.

He talked of redemption and Canaan.

CHAPTER XI

HEBREW CRAFT

When Mentu returned from On a light had kindled in his eyes and his stately step had grown elastic. The man that withdraws from a busy life while in full vigor has beckoned to Death. Inactivity preys upon him like a disease. The great artist, forced into idleness by the succession of an incapable king, had been renewed by the prospect of labor which his exaltation into the high office had afforded. With pleasure in his heart, Kenkenes watched his father grow young again.

"Who was thy good friend in this?" the young man asked one evening after a number of contented remarks concerning the market's appointment. "Who said the word in the Pharaoh's ear?"

"So to raise me to this office it is needful that something more than my deserts must have urged the king?" Mentu retorted.

"Nay! that was not my meaning," Kenkenes made haste to say. "But thou knowest, my father, that Meneptah must be for ever directed. Who, then, offered him this wise counsel? Rameses?"

"It was never Har-hat," Mentu replied, but half placated.

"If he had, thou and I must no longer call him a poor counselor."

"Bribe--" the murket began, ruffled once more.

"Nay," Kenkenes interrupted smiling. "He had but proved himself worthy and wise."

Mentu shook his head, but there was no more temper evident in his face.

"Now is a propitious hour for a good counselor," Kenkenes pursued.