Moon of Israel: A Tale of the ExodusHaggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
History
Moon of Israel: A Tale of the Exodus
Haggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
Exodus, The -- Fiction; Jews -- History -- To 70 A.D. -- Fiction
At the first break of day I gave the order to start. Looking over the
side of the barge it seemed to me as though the lights of dawn had
fallen from the sky into the Nile whereof the water had become
pink-hued. Moreover, this hue, which grew ever deeper, was travelling
up stream, not down, against the course of nature, and could not
therefore have been caused by red soil washed from the southern lands.
The bargemen stared and muttered together. Then one of them, leaning
over the side, scooped up water in the hollow of his hand and drew some
into his mouth, only to spit it out again with a cry of fear.
“’Tis blood,” he cried. “Blood! Osiris has been slain
afresh, and his holy blood fills the banks of Nile.”
So much were they afraid, indeed, that had I not forced them to hold to
their course they would have turned and rowed up stream, or beached the
boat and fled into the desert. But I cried to them to steer on
northwards, for thus perhaps we should sooner be done with this horror,
and they obeyed me. Ever as we went the hue of the water grew more red,
almost to blackness, till at last it seemed as though we were
travelling through a sea of gore in which dead fish floated by the
thousand, or struggled dying on the surface. Also the stench was so
dreadful that we must bind linen about our nostrils to strain the foetid
air.
We came abreast of a town, and from its streets one great wail of terror
rose to heaven. Men stood staring as though they were drunken, looking
at their red arms which they had dipped in the stream, and women ran to
and fro upon the bank, tearing their hair and robes, and crying out
such words as—
“Wizard’s work! Bewitched! Accursed! The gods have slain each
other, and men too must die!” and so forth.
Also we saw peasants digging holes at a distance from the shore to see
perchance if they might come to water that was sweet and wholesome. All
day long we travelled thus through this horrible flood, while the spray
driven by the strong north wind spotted our flesh and garments, till we
were like butchers reeking from the shambles. Nor could we eat any food
because of the stench from this spray, which made it to taste salt as
does fresh blood, only we drank of the water which I had provided, and
the rowers who had held me to be mad now named me the wisest of men;
one who knew what would befall in the future.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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