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
“Why,” he cried, “it is Ana returned from Memphis! Draw near,
Ana, and a thousand welcomes to you. Do you know I thought that you were
another high-priest, or governor of some Nome of which I had never
heard.”
“Ana! Who is Ana?” asked the Princess. “Oh! I remember that
scribe——. Well, it is plain that he has returned from
Memphis,” and she eyed my dusty robe.
“Royal One,” I murmured abashed, “do not blame me that I
enter your presence thus. Pambasa led me here against my will by the
direct order of the Prince.”
“Is it so? Say, Seti, does this man bring tidings of import from
Memphis that you needed his presence in such haste?”
“Yes, Userti, at least I think so. You have the writings safe, have
you not, Ana?”
“Quite safe, your Highness,” I answered, though I knew not of what
writings he spoke, unless they were the manuscripts of my stories.
“Then, my Lord, I will leave you to talk of the tidings from Memphis
and these writings,” said the Princess.
“Yes, yes. We must talk of them, Userti. Also of the journey to the
land of Goshen on which Ana starts with me to-morrow.”
“To-morrow! Why this morning you told me it was fixed for three days
hence.”
“Did I, Sister—I mean Wife? If so, it was because I was not sure
whether Ana, who is to be my chariot companion, would be back.”
“A scribe your chariot companion! Surely it would be more fitting that
your cousin Amenmeses——”
“To Set with Amenmeses!” he exclaimed. “You know well,
Userti, that the man is hateful to me with his cunning yet empty
talk.”
“Indeed! I grieve to hear it, for when you hate you show it, and
Amenmeses may be a bad enemy. Then if not our cousin Amenmeses who is
not hateful to me, there is Saptah.”
“I thank you; I will not travel in a cage with a jackal.”
“Jackal! I do not love Saptah, but one of the royal blood of Egypt a
jackal! Then there is Nehesi the Vizier, or the General of the escort
whose name I forget.”
“Do you think, Userti, that I wish to talk about state economies with
that old money-sack, or to listen to boastings of deeds he never did in
war from a half-bred Nubian butcher?”
“I do not know, Husband. Yet of what will you talk with this Ana? Of
poems, I suppose, and silliness. Or will it be perchance of Merapi, Moon
of Israel, whom I gather both of you think so beautiful. Well, have
your way. You tell me that I am not to accompany you upon this journey,
I your new-made wife, and now I find that it is because you wish my
place to be filled by a writer of tales whom you picked up the other
day—your ‘twin in Ra’ forsooth! Fare you well, my Lord,” and
she rose from her seat, gathering up her robes with both hands.
Then Seti grew angry.
“Userti,” he said, stamping upon the floor, “you should not
use such words. You know well that I do not take you with me because
there may be danger yonder among the Hebrews. Moreover, it is not
Pharaoh’s wish.”
She turned and answered with cold courtesy:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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