Part 15 (2/2)
”Who is Osiris, in the sacred shape of the bull ...” added other priests.
And others again, oracularly:
”And who drew the plough through the fields of sacred Egypt when he disguised himself with the other G.o.ds, under the forms of animals....”
”From the eyes of Jupiter Ammon, who wished to reign alone.”
”The same,” said Caleb, flinging himself from his camel.
The priests arranged themselves in processional order while the travellers alighted and Thrasyllus also slid from his camel. And they sang the Hymn of Apis, as they were wont to do when visitors came. For in the huge dead city of Memphis, inhabited by hardly a few thousands, who were dwarfed and lost in the s.p.a.ces of the ancient, mystic capital of ancient, mystic Egypt, in truth the wors.h.i.+p of Apis was still maintained only because all the travellers came to see the sacred bull. The fees which the travellers paid to the priests formed the princ.i.p.al revenue of their brotherhood. The temple was falling in ruins; the enormous pylons seemed to totter, the gigantic architraves leaned forward; the giant statues were bruised by the rains and eaten away, as though the centuries themselves had mutilated them; the sphinxes were sinking into the sand. But still the wors.h.i.+p of the bull Apis was maintained, because of the strangers and their fees.
A young priest who spoke a little Latin was allotted to the travellers and took his place by Lucius' side, respectfully:
”It is a pity,” he said, smiling cheerfully, ”that Serapis did not bring you to Memphis a month earlier. For then, my n.o.ble lord, you would have beheld the death of Apis and his return to life.”
”What is this, then?” asked Lucius.
”The incarnation of the G.o.d in the sacred bull lasts a quarter of a century,” the young, pleasant, smiling priest explained. ”After being incarnated in the bull for five-and-twenty years, the G.o.d disappears out of the bull and the bull is marked down for death. The priests drown him solemnly in the Nile and embalm his sacred body and celebrate his obsequies with special ceremonies. What a pity, my lord, that you have come too late! After the obsequies they seek the young Apis, they seek him throughout sacred Egypt. As a rule they find him immediately, for the G.o.dhead immediately becomes reincarnated in a new-born bull; and, if it omit to do so, the calamity is so great that the country is plunged into mourning and the disaster foretells universal plagues. But Serapis Osiris loves his Egypt and but seldom delays the new incarnation. This time, after Apis' obsequies, we were able at once to celebrate his blessed advent.”
”And where was Apis found?” asked Lucius.
”On the farm belonging to my father, who is a land-owner,” replied the pleasant young priest, smiling mischievously. ”I am a land-owner's son; and, when Apis was born in our stables, my father dedicated me to Osiris, that I might take care of the G.o.d. I came here with him; I have been here hardly a month; I came with him.”
And he smiled, glad, young and happy; his fresh, young cheeks were still bronzed with the sun and his arms and hands were st.u.r.dy as those of a young peasant and shepherd.
The singing priests drew themselves up before a secos, a square plot of gra.s.s surrounded by columns.
”My lords,” said the pleasant-looking priest, ”this is the secos of the mother of Apis and we are going to show her to you.”
”So she also comes from your father's farm?” asked Uncle Catullus.
”Most certainly, my lord,” replied the priest, roguishly.
”That of course goes without saying,” commented Uncle Catullus.
The young priest opened the gate of the secos. At the far end was the sacred stall, like the wide interior of a temple. The priest, vanished in the shadow.
And, when he reappeared, he was leading, merely by pressing his hand against her snow-white flank, a handsome, sleek cow.
He led her to the strangers. She shone, well-tended and well-fed. She had placid eyes of bluish gold, beautiful, large, soft and womanly, the eyes of Hera herself. Her horns were gilded and her hoofs were painted red.
The pleasant-looking priest led her to the strangers and was glad and happy because Apis' mother was so comely:
”Is she not handsome?” he asked proudly.
The strangers smiled and agreed that she was very handsome; and the priest, with respectful familiarity, stroked her snow-white flank and pointed out that she had one black foot. Then he kissed her, fondly and reverently, on her moist muzzle and led her back, with the pressure of his hand, to the temple that was her stall. She went, solemnly, as though aware of her high, sacred dignity, which existed only because of the strangers and their fee.
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