Belshazzar. Генри Райдер Хаггард
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courts whence a jackal fled away, as did a night-bird perched upon a cornice, telling me that here there was no man. At the far end of the court there remained a statue of Hathor, one of a pair, for the other had fallen. That it was Hathor might easily be known for she wore the vulture cap and above it horns between which rested the disc of the moon. Near to the feet of this statue in the shadow of a wall, Atyra sat herself down upon a broken block of alabaster, motioning to me to place myself at her side.
“What goddess is this,” she asked, “who carries the horns of a beast upon the brow of a fair woman?”
“Hathor, goddess of Love,” I answered, “whom some call Mistress of the gods.”
“Is it so? Well, by this title or by that she is known in every land, and well is she named Mistress of the gods and men. Strange that amidst all this ruin she alone should have stood through the long centuries, an emblem of love that does not die. How beautiful is the night! See the great moon riding in yonder cloudless sky. Look at her rays glittering on the river’s face and hark to the breeze whispering among the palms beneath. Truly such a night should be dear to Hathor, so dear that – ”
Here she broke off her dreamy talk, then said suddenly,
“Tell me of yourself, Prince Ramose.”
“Do not give me that title,” I exclaimed. “If it were heard it might bring trouble on me who am but a Count of Egypt by Pharaoh’s grace!”
“Yet it is yours, Ramose,” she answered, “and in this place there is none to hear save Hathor and the moon. Now speak.”
So I told her my short tale, to which she listened as though it had been that of the deeds of a king; then said,
“But you have left out the half of it all. You have left out Hathor.”
“I do not understand,” I answered, looking down to hide my blushes.
“I mean that you have left out love. Tell me of those whom you have loved. Do you not know that it is of love that all women wish most to hear?”
“I cannot, Lady, for I have – never loved.”
“If that be true, how deep a cup of love is left for you to drink, whose lips have not yet sipped its wine, Ramose. So here in the shadow of Hathor sit a pair of us, for to give you truth for truth, I tell you that though I am your elder, I too have never loved.”
“Yet you are a widow,” I said astonished.
“Aye, the widow of an aged man who married me because of my birth, my wit, my wealth, and the great friends I brought him, and whom I married to serve my people that were threatened, as his are to-day, by the giant might of Babylon. Abibal was to me a father and no more, if a beloved father whose commands I will execute to the death, which commands bring me upon a long and perilous journey to seek help from mighty Pharaoh who desires to give me none.”
Now I glanced at her sideways, and said,
“You are very beauteous, Lady. You have the eyes of a dove, the step of a deer, the wisdom of a man and the grace of a palm. Were there then none who pleased your eyes about your court in Syria?”
“While my lord lived I was blind, as became a loyal wife,” she answered.
“And now that he is dead, Lady?”
“Oh! now I cannot say. No more do I seek a husband who am a queen and would remain free, the slave of no one, for what slavery is there like to that of marriage? Yet it is true that I desire love, if I may choose that love. Come; let us be going, for yonder Egyptian Hathor of yours casts her spell over me and brings thoughts that for long I have forbidden in my heart. I think that this is an evil-omened place; its goddess tells of love, but its hoar ruins tell of death. Doubtless did we but know it, here we sit above the shrouded dead who, staring at us from their sepulchres, mock our beating hearts which soon will be as still as theirs. Come; let us be going, who yet are young and free from the webs of Hathor and of death. Death, I defy thee while I may. Hathor, I make a mock of thee and thy calm, compelling gaze. Dost thou not also make a mock of Hathor, Ramose?” and turning, she looked at me with her great eyes that seemed to glow in the shadows like to those of an owl.
“I do not know,” I answered faintly, for those eyes drew the strength out of me. “Yet it is dangerous to mock at any goddess, and most of all at Hathor. Still, let us go, I think it very wise that we should go; the scent of your hair overwhelms me who have been ill. My brain rocks like a boat upon the sea. Hathor has me by the hand.”
“Yes, I think that Hathor has us both by the heart,” she answered in her low rich voice, a voice of honey.
Then our lips met, for there in her temple we had drunk of Hathor’s cup.
Chapter 3
The Counsel of Belus
We rose; her face was like the dawn, her eyes were dewy, but I trembled like a leaf, I whose heart for the first time love had gripped with cruel hands.
I thought I saw a shadow flit across a pool of moonlight that lay within the temple’s broken pylon, the shadow of a man.
“What frightens you?” she asked.
I told her in a whisper.
“Perchance it was a spirit of which this place must be full, for such, they say, look like shadows. Or perchance it was thrown from the broad wings of some fowl of the night,” she answered lightly. “At least if it be otherwise, that watcher was too far away to have seen us here, seated side by side in gloom. Certainly he could not have heard our words. Yet, Ramose, Hathor’s gift to me, I would warn you. Among those who sat with us at the board to-night, did you take note of one, a bearded man of middle age, hook-nosed, with flashing eyes like to those of a hawk?”
“Yes, Lady Atyra, and I thought that he looked askance at me.”
“It may be so. Listen. That man was a councillor of Abibal’s, a priest of his god also, and as such one of great power in the land. Always he has pursued me with his love, and now he would wed me. But I hate him, as hitherto I have hated all men, and will have none of him. Moreover,” here her voice grew hard and cold, “when I am strong enough I will be rid of him, but that is not yet. If I can win Pharaoh’s friendship and bring it to pass that he names me to succeed to the throne of Abibal, as his subject queen, then and not till then shall I be strong enough, for this Ninari has a large following and the half of my escort are sworn to him. Meanwhile, have no fear and be sure that in this, our first kiss, I pledged my heart to you and to no other man.”
“I thank you, O most Beautiful,” I answered. “Yet tell me, Lady, how can this matter end? You have been a queen and will be one again, while I am but Pharaoh’s base-born son, one of many, though I think that he loves me best of all of them. Also I am young and unproved. What then can there be between us?”
“Everything before all is done, I think, Ramose, if you will but trust to me who am wise and strong in my fashion, and being alas! older than you are, have seen and learned more. Already I have a plan. I will persuade Pharaoh to send you with me to Syria, there to be his eyes and envoy, and once back in my own country I will be rid of this Ninari and will take you as my husband, saying that such is Pharaoh’s will.”
“May that day come soon!” I muttered, who already was as full of love of this royal woman, as a drunkard is with wine.
Meanwhile we had left the temple, and were walking side by side but not too near, down the slope of sand towards the camp. As we went, from a clump of stunted sycamores appeared the two waiting-ladies whom Atyra chided because they had not followed her more closely.
They answered that they had seen a man who looked like a thief of the desert, watching them and being afraid, had taken refuge among the trees till he went away down towards the river. Then they had come out but could not find us, and therefore returned to the trees and waited, not knowing what else to do.
“You should have run back to the camp and fetched a guard,” she answered angrily. “For is it meet that the Lady Atyra should wander unaccompanied in the night?”
Then she dismissed them and they