The Yoke Part 58

Next she realized that she was sheltered in a cave; that slender lines of white daylight sifted through the interstices of a door; that a lamp was burning somewhere behind a screen; that a hairy thing sat in a corner and looked at her with half-human eyes, and that, as she shrank at the sight, the warm support under her head moved and a fair face, framed with golden hair, bent over her.

Then her eyes, becoming clearer as her recollection returned, wandered away toward the walls of her shelter. They had been hewn by hands.

There was an opening in one side, leading into another and a darker crypt. Was not this a tomb? She was in the Tomb of the Discontented Soul! Terrified, she struggled to gain her feet and fly, but the awful memory of the plague without returned to her overwhelmingly. Gentle hands restrained her, and the same voice that had sought to soothe her before, continued its soft comforting now.

"Thou art safe and sheltered," she heard. "No evil shall befall thee."

Was this the spirit of the tomb? If so, it was most lovely and kindly.

But a solemn voice issued out of the dark cell beyond. This was the spirit, of a surety. She cowered against her fair-haired protector and shuddered. But the maiden answered the voice in a strange tongue.

Masanath would have known it to be Hebrew, had she been composed. But now it was mystic, cabalistic.

Presently the maiden addressed her.

"Deborah asks after thee, Lady. How shall I tell her thou findest thyself?"

"Oh, I can not tell," Masanath answered. "What has happened? Is it true or did I go mad?"

The Israelite smoothed her hair. "It is a plague," she said.

"Then the hand of Amenti is on us," the Egyptian shuddered. "Whither shall we flee?"

"Ye can not flee from the One G.o.d," the voice from the crypt said grimly.

"Nay, but what have I done to vex the G.o.ds?" Masanath insisted. "O let me go hence. Where are my servants?"

"It is better for thee to bide here," the voice went on relentlessly.

"For outside the sheltering neighborhood of the chosen people, the hand of the outraged G.o.d shall overtake Egypt and scorch her throat with thirst and make her veins congeal for want of water."

Masanath gained her feet, crying out wildly:

"My servants! Where are they? Let me forth."

The Israelite put an a.s.suring arm about her. "Thou wilt not dare to face the Nile again," she warned. "Stay with us."

"To starve! To perish of thirst! To die of pestilence! The G.o.ds have left us. We are undone!"

"Aye, the G.o.ds have left you," the voice continued harshly. "Ye are given over to the vengeance of the G.o.d of Abraham. Howl, Egypt! Rend thyself and cover thy head with ashes. Thy destruction is but begun.

For a hundred years thou hast oppressed Israel. Now is the hour of the children of G.o.d!"

Masanath wrung her hands, but the voice went on.

"As the Nile flows, so hath the blood of Israel been wasted by the hand of Egypt. Now shall the G.o.d of Abraham drain her veins, even so, drop for drop. For the despoiling of Israel shall her pastures and stables be filled with stricken beasts--for the heavy hand of the Pharaohs shall the heavens thunder and scourges fall. And the wrath of G.o.d shall cool not till Egypt is a waste, shorn of her corn and her vineyards and her riches, and foul with dead men."

Nothing could have been more vindictive than this disembodied voice.

Masanath thrust her fingers through her hair, and drawing her elbows forward, sheltered her face with them.

"When have I offended against the Hebrew?" she cried, sick with terror.

"Why should your awful G.o.d destroy the innocent and the friend of Israel among the people of Egypt?"

Rachel, who had stood beside her, with an increasing cloud on her face, now spoke in Hebrew. There was mild protest in her tones.

"The plague will pa.s.s," the voice from the inner crypt continued.

"Seven days will it endure, no more."

"Deborah is mystic," Rachel added softly, "and is gifted with prophetic eyes. Much hath she suffered at Egypt's hands, and her tongue grows harsh when she speaks of the oppression."

"Nay, but let me go," Masanath begged. "Where are my servants? Came they not after me when I fled?"

"None followed thee, Lady, and thy raft went adrift."

"Let me out of this hideous place, then, for I must seek them. They may be dead."

Her tone was imperious, and Rachel, silently obedient, led her to the entrance and pushed aside the door. Instantly the terrible turmoil over Egypt smote upon her ears; next she saw the Nile, moving slowly, black where its clear surfaces had been green, scarlet and froth-ridden where the sun had shone upon transparent ripples and white foam; after that, the strange odor came to her, recalling the smell of the altars, but now magnified till it was overpoweringly strong. She sickened and turned away.

Setting the door in place, Rachel led her back into a corner of the outer chamber and laid her down on the matting there.

"The Lord G.o.d will care for thy servants. Fret thyself no further, but be content here until the horror shall pa.s.s. I shall attend thee, so thou shalt not miss their ministrations." The Israelite spoke with gentle authority, smoothing the dark hair of her guest. Command in the form of persuasion is doubly effective, since it induces while it compels. Masanath was most amenable to this manner of entreaty, since it disarmed her pride while it governed her impulses. Thus, though her inclination urged against it, she ate when the Israelite brought her a bit of cold fowl and a beaker of wine at midday and again at sunset.

And at night, she slept because the Israelite told her she was safe and bade her close her eyes.

But once she awoke. The lamp burned behind a wooden amphora rack and the interior of the stone chamber was not dark. The voice in the inner chamber was still and the human-eyed beast in the corner was now only a small hairy roll. In the silence she would have been dismayed, but close beside her sat the Israelite. One hand toyed absently with the golden rings of a collar about her throat. The face was averted, the hair unplaited and falling in a shower of bright ripples over the bosom and down the back. The beauty of the picture impressed itself on Masanath, in spite of her drowsiness. But as well as the beauty, the dejection in the droop of the head, the unhappiness on the face, were apparent even in the dusk. Here was sorrow--the kind of sorrow that even the benign night might not subdue. Masanath was well acquainted with such vigils as the golden Israelite seemed to be keeping.

Her love-lorn heart was stirred. She spoke to Rachel softly.

"Come hither and lie down by me," she said. "I am afraid and thou art unhappy. Give me some of thy courage and I will sorrow with thee."

The Israelite smiled sadly and obeyed.

It was dawn when the fan-bearer's daughter awoke again.

The door had been set aside, and on the rock threshold a squat copper lamp was sending up periodic eruptions of dense white vapor. Rachel was feeding the ember of the cotton wick with bits of chopped root.

The breeze from the river blew the fumes back into the cave, filling the dark recesses with a fresh and pungent odor.

Masanath, wondering and remembering, raised her head to look through the opening. Day was broad over Egypt, and the turmoil had subsided.

The silence was heavy. But the Nile was still a wallowing torrent of red.

She sank back and drew the wide sleeves of her dress over her face.

Rachel put the lamp aside, set the door in place and came to her.

"Thou art better for thy long sleep," she said. "Now, if thou canst bear, as well, with the meager food this house affords, the plague will not vex thee sorely." Then, in obedience to the Israelite's offer, Masanath sat up and suffered Rachel to dress her hair and bathe her tiny hands and face with a solution of weak white wine.

"The water which we had stored with us is also corrupted. I fear we shall thirst, if we have but wine to wet our lips," Rachel explained.

"Thou dost not tell me that ye abide in this place?" the fan-bearer's daughter asked, taking the piece of fowl and hard bread which Rachel offered her.

"Even so," Rachel responded after a little silence.

"Holy Isis! guests of a spirit! What a ghastly hospice for women! How came ye here?"

For a moment there was silence, so marked that Masanath ceased her dainty feeding and drew back a little.