“Who has been telling you about me?” exclaimed Bes anxiously.
“No one, O Bes, at least not that I can remember.”
“Not that you can remember! Then who and what are you who learn things you know not how?”
“I am named Karema and desert-bred, and my office is that of Cup to the holy Tanofir.”
“If hermits drink from such a cup I shall turn hermit,” said Bes, laughing. “But how can a woman be a man’s cup and what kind of a wine does he drink from her?”
“The wine of wisdom, O Bes,” she replied colouring a little, for like many Arabs of high blood she was very fair in hue.
“Wine of wisdom,” said Bes. “From such cups most drink the wine of folly, or sometimes of madness.”
“The holy Tanofir awaits you,” she interrupted, and turning, entered the doorway.
A little way down the passage was a niche in which stood three lamps ready lighted. One of these she took and gave the others to us. Then we followed her down a steep incline of many steps, till at length we found ourselves in a hot and enormous hall hewn from the living rock and filled with blackness.
“What is this place?” said Bes, who looked frightened, and although he spoke in a low whisper, our guide overheard him and turning, answered,
“This is the burial place of the Apis bulls. See, here lies the last, not yet closed in,” and holding up her lamp she revealed a mighty sarcophagus of black granite set in a niche of the mausoleum.
“So they make mummies of bulls as well as of men,” groaned Bes. “Oh! what a land. But when I have seen the holy Tanofir it was in a brick cell beneath the sky.”
“Doubtless that was at night, O Bes,” answered Karema, “for in such a house he sleeps, spending his days in the Apis tomb, because of all the evil that is worked beneath the sun.”
“Hump,” said Bes, “I should have thought that more was worked beneath the moon, but doubtless the holy Tanofir knows better, or being asleep does not mind.”
Now in front of each of the walled-up niches was a little chapel, and at the fourth of these whence a light came, the maiden stopped, saying,
“Enter. Here dwells the holy Tanofir. He tended this god during its life-days in his youth, and now that the god is dead he prays above its bones.”
“Prays to the bones of a dead bull in the dark! Well, give me a live grasshopper in the light; he is more cheerful,” muttered Bes.
“O Dwarf,” cried a deep and resounding voice from within the chapel, “talk no more of things you do not understand. I do not pray to the bones of a dead bull, as you in your ignorance suppose. I pray to the spirit whereof this sacred beast was but one of the fleshly symbols, which in this haunted place you will do well not to offend.”
Then for once I saw Bes grow afraid, for his great jaw dropped and he trembled.
“Master,” he said to me, “when next you visit tombs where maidens look into your heart and hermits hear your very thoughts, I pray you leave me behind. The holy Tanofir I love, if from afar, but I like not his house, or his—” Here he looked at Karema who was regarding him with a sweet smile over the lamp flame, and added, “There is something the matter with me, Master; I cannot even lie.”
“Cease from talking follies, O Shabaka and Bes, and enter,” said the tremendous voice from within.
So we entered and saw a strange sight. Against the back wall of the chapel which was lit with lamps, stood a life-sized statue of Maat, goddess of Law and Truth, fashioned of alabaster. On her head was a tall feather, her hair was covered with a wig, on her neck lay a collar of blue stones; on her arms and wrists were bracelets of gold. A tight robe draped her body. In her right hand that hung down by her side, she held the looped Cross of Life, and in her left which was advanced, a long, lotus-headed sceptre, while her painted eyes stared fixedly at the darkness. Crouched upon the ground, at the feet of the statue, scribe fashion, sat my great-uncle Tanofir, a very aged man with sightless eyes and long hands, so thin that one might see through them against the lamp-flame. His head was shaven, his beard was long and white; white too was his robe. In front of him was a low altar, on which stood a shallow silver vessel filled with pure water, and on either side of it a burning lamp.
We knelt down before him, or rather I knelt, for Bes threw himself flat upon his face.
“Am I the King of kings whom you have so lately visited, that you should prostrate yourselves before me?” said Tanofir in his great voice, which, coming from so frail and aged a man seemed most unnatural. “Or is it to the goddess of Truth beyond that you bow yourselves? If so, that is well, since one, if not both of you, greatly needs her pardon and her help. Or is it to the sleeping god beyond who holds the whole world on his horns? Or is it to the darkness of this hallowed place which causes you to remember the nearness of the awaiting tomb?”
“Nay, my Uncle,” I said, “we would greet you, no more, who are so worthy of our veneration, seeing we believe, both of us, that you saved us yonder in the East, from that tomb of which you speak, or rather from the jaws of lions or a cruel death by torments.”
“Perchance I did, I or the gods of which I am the instrument. At least I remember that I sent you certain messages in answer to a prayer for help that reached me, here in my darkness. For know that since we parted I have gone quite blind so that I must use this maiden’s eyes to read what is written in yonder divining-cup. Well, it makes the darkness of this sepulchre easier to bear and prepares me for my own. ‘Tis full a hundred and twenty years since first I looked upon the light, and now the time of sleep draws near. Come hither, my nephew, and kiss me on the brow, remembering in your strength that a day will dawn when as I am, so shall you be, if the gods spare you so long.”
So I kissed him, not without fear, for the old man was unearthly. Then he sent Karema from the place and bade me tell him my story, which I did. Why he did this I cannot say, since he seemed to know it already and once or twice corrected me in certain matters that I had forgotten, for instance as to the exact words that I had used to the Great King in my rage and as to the fashion in which I was tied in the boat. When I had done, he said,
“So you gave the name of Amada to the Great King, did you? Well, you could have done nothing else if you wished to go on living, and therefore cannot be blamed. Yet before all is finished I think it will bring you into trouble, Shabaka, since among many gifts, the gods did not give that of reason to women. If so, bear it, since it is better to have trouble and be alive than to have none and be dead, that is, for those whose work is still to do in the world. And you, or rather Bes, stole the White Signet of signets of which, although it is so simple and ancient, there is not the like for power in the whole world. That was well done since it will be useful for a while. And now Peroa has determined to rebel against the King, which also is well done. Oh! trouble not to tell me of that business for I know all. But what would you learn of me, Shabaka?”
“I am instructed to learn from you the end of these great matters, my Uncle.”
“Are you mad, Shabaka, that you should think me a god who can read the future?”
“Not at all, my Uncle, who know that you can if you will.”
“Call the maiden,” he said.
So Bes went out and brought her in.
“Be seated, Karema, there in front of the altar, and look into my eyes.”
She obeyed and presently seemed to go to sleep for her head nodded. Then he said,
“Wake, woman, look into the water in the bowl upon the altar and tell me what you see.”
She appeared to wake, though I perceived that this was not really so, for she seemed a different woman with a fixed face that frightened me, and wide and frozen eyes. She stared into the silver bowl, then spoke in a new voice, as though some spirit used her tongue.