Part 37 (1/2)
The next morning Rachel obeyed Atsu and followed the children to the Nile. Crossing the field, absorbed in her trouble, she did not hear the beat of hoofs or the grind of wheels until she was face to face with the attendants of a company of charioteers. The troop of water-carriers had scattered out of the road-way and each little bronzed Israelite was bending with his right hand upon his left knee in token of profound respect. Rachel hastily joined them.
When she looked again the retinue of servants had pa.s.sed. After them came a gilded chariot with a sumptuous Egyptian within. By the annulets over his temples and the fringed ribbons pendent therefrom, the Israelite knew him to be royal.
Behind, a second chariot was driven by a single occupant, who wore the badges of princehood also.
The third was a chariot of ebony drawn by two prancing coal-black horses whose leathers and housings shone and jingled. Rachel's eyes met those of the driver and the life-current froze in her veins.
Har-hat, fan-bearer to the Pharaoh, late governor of Bubastis, drew up his horses and calmly surveyed her. The action halted the chariots of a dozen courtiers following him. One by one they came to a stand-still and each man peered around his predecessor until the fan-bearer became conscious of the pawing horses behind him. He drove out of line and alighted. With an apologetic wave of his hand, he motioned the procession to proceed and busied himself with the harness as if he had found a breakage. Those that had pa.s.sed were by this time some distance ahead and, missing the grind of wheels in their wake, looked back. The fan-bearer beckoned to one of the attendants who had gone before, and the man returned.
Meanwhile the procession moved on and the n.o.bles glanced first at the fan-bearer, and next, at the Israelite. But Athor in the niche on the hillside was not more white and stony than its living model in the valley. There was no retreat. The fan-bearer stood between her and the Nile, his servant between her and the quarries. She felt the sickening numbness that stupefies one who realizes a terrible strait, from which there is neither succor nor escape.
The procession pa.s.sed and the servant, halting, bowed to his master.
He was short and fat, thick of neck and long of arm--a most unusual Egyptian. Har-hat tossed him the reins and, walking around his horses, approached Rachel. The smallest Hebrew--too small to be awed and yet old enough to realize that the beloved Rachel was in danger, dropped the hide he bore, and flinging himself before her, clasped her with his arms, and turned a defiant face at Har-hat over his shoulder. The fan-bearer paused.
”It is the very same,” he said laughingly. ”The hard life of the quarries hath not robbed thee in the least of thy radiance. But by the gambling G.o.d, Toth, thou didst take a risk! Dost dream what thou didst miss through a malevolent caprice of the Hathors? Five months ago I would have taken thee out of bondage into luxury but for an industrious taskmaster and the unfortunate interference of a royal message. But the Seven Sisters repent, and I find thee again.”
Rachel had fixed her eyes upon the white walls of Memphis s.h.i.+ning in the morning sun, and did not seem to hear him.
”Nay, now, slight me not! It was the fault of the taskmaster and not mine. I confess the charm of distant Memphis, but it is more glorious within its walls. I am come to take thee thither. Thank me with but a look, I pray thee.”
Seeing she did not move nor answer, he tilted his head to one side and surveyed her with interest.
”Hath much soft persuasion surfeited thee into deafness?” The color surged up into Rachel's face.
”Ha!” he exclaimed, ”not so! Perhaps thou art but reluctant, then.”
He whirled upon the other children, cowering behind him.
”Is she wedded?” he demanded.
Frightened and trembling, they did not answer till he repeated the question and stamped his foot. Then one of them shook his head.
”It is well. I need not delay till a slave-husband were disposed of in the mines. Hither, Unas!”
The fat servitor came forward.
”I know this taskmaster not, nor can I coax or press him into giving her up without the cursed formality of a doc.u.ment of gift from the Pharaoh. Get thee back to Memphis with this,” he drew off a signet ring and gave it to the servitor, ”and to the palace. There have my scribe draw up a prayer to the Pharaoh, craving for me the masters.h.i.+p over the Israelite, Rachel,--for household service.” The fan-bearer laughed. ”Forget not, this latter phrase, else the Pharaoh might fancy I would take her to wife. Haste thee! and bring back Nak and Hebset with thee to row the boat back, and help thee fetch her. She may have a lover who might make trouble for thee alone. Get thee gone.”
He took the reins from his servitor's hands and turned again toward Rachel.
”I go forth to hunt, and there is danger in that pastime. I may not return. It would be most fitting to bid me a tender farewell, but thou art cruel. Nevertheless, I shall care for myself most diligently this day, and return to thee in Memphis by nightfall. Farewell!” He sprang into his chariot and, urging his horses, pursued the far-away procession at a gallop.
Unas was already at the Nile-side, preparing to return to Memphis. To Rachel it seemed as if she had been set free for a moment, that her efforts to escape and her inevitable capture might amuse her tormentor.
And after the manner of the miserable captive so beset, she seized upon the momentary release and sought to fly. The three little Hebrews clung to her--the one that had answered Har-hat weeping bitterly and remorsefully.
”Nay, weep not,” she said in a hurried whisper. ”It would have ended just the same. Heard ye not what he said concerning a husband? But let me go! Let Rachel hide ere the serving men return!”
She undid their arms and ran back toward the quarries. For a moment the children hesitated and then they pursued her, crying in an undertone as they ran. Past the stone-pits, up the winding valley she fled until she reached the encampment and her own tent.
The women saw her come and old Deborah, who was preparing vegetables for the noonday meal, left the fires and hastened to the shelter.
There, Rachel, choking with terror and tears, gave the story of the morning.
Deborah made no interruption and after the disjointed and unhappy recital was complete, she sat for some moments, motionless and silent.