Setne sensed more bitterly, in the obscurity of instinct, the desire to struggle against her and vanquish her. The audacious grace of her hips, the bold virginity of her young breasts, filled him with a disturbance for which he could only find an analogy in the fear of seeing his phalanx flee the clamors of the enemy.
Aoura was covered in light veils, almost entirely transparent in the interstices of the byssus. She raised toward Setne a tranquil gaze in which the certainty showed that she had a world at her service. Deep down, however, she was as troubled as he was, for she believed Gaila’s words, and she observed with avidity the man who was to have an influence over her fate.
She spoke in a cold tone. “Is it not you who taught my nephew to use a bow? Tell me your name again. I promised to mention it to Thutmose.”
“I am Setne, son of Raneferka…,” he replied.
“…And you come from the nome of Tanis,” she said. “Did you not tell me also that one of your ancestors descended from the old kings?”
“I did say that. Any of my people will tell you that.”
She smiled then; she observed the soldier’s face with more complaisance.
“You know,” she said, “that the war has been decided. The departure of the troops will be proclaimed in a few days. The commands will be given after Thutmose visits Ammon. Do you like war?”
At that question she advanced her head with a sort of anxiety. Setne, who had been tremulous before her until then, had straightened himself up. A vehement ardor agitated his face.
“I love war!” he said. “My heart becomes as light as a falcon when the battle trumpet resounds.”
She shivered at that sonorous voice. Already, young and agile in ideas, she saw him returning from Assyria in triumph. The image of a victorious soldier entering into her life as if into a citadel did not displease her.
“If you love war and if you know how to lead your troops,” she said, “Thutmose will be able to discover you and reward you. You know that he protects those who fear him more that death.”
“I know that. It is not without reason that his soldiers have more courage than enemy soldiers.”
The eyes of the princess, excited with admiration for her brother, shone like the fire of emeralds.
“Your name,” she said, “will be found on the royal papyri.”
An extraordinary softness passed over the soldier’s soul. Aoura did not wait for his response. She made a sign to her porters; she headed slowly toward the second enclosure.
Setne watched the violet chair disappear under the pylon. His heart was more agitated with dreams than the Red Sea by waves. And the ardent boat of Osiris, ever larger and more coppery, descended over the distant desert between two pyramids.
IX
When she emerged from the temple of Amenemhat, Aoura was thinking ardently. For having spoken to Setne, her soul was more impatient, her ennui harsher. She gazed at the plain where the shadows of pyramids were lengthening; she lamented being a daughter of the kings of Thebes, submissive to laws unknown to the women who prowled by night around papyrus cabins. At the memory of the brown face and the broad chest against which it would be pleasant to agitate, she almost wept with the desire to know masculine strength.
Thutmose will know his name! she thought. I shall make it repeated by the son of Hatsheput.
She saw Setne victorious, designated to posses her by the king himself. Her loins quivered. Lying on the cushions of her litter, she abandoned herself to a mysterious embrace. Soon that dream rendered reality more morose, and she ordered her porters to walk faster.
At a bend in the road she uttered a cry; between two yellow chimeras she had just perceived the witch of the Gulf. The red garment sparkled in the oblique rays of the sunset. Gaila’s eyes seemed to be lost in the slumber of a dream.
“Stop!” said the princes, impatiently.
In her haste to consult fate, she descended from the litter and ran toward the chimeras. After a few paces, however, she blushed at her haste, and waited for Gaila, who advanced nonchalantly and magnificently, with the voluptuous undulation of the beautiful women of her race. They considered one another, each charmed by the other’s grace. In Aoura, a little of the emotion induced in her by Setne was transposed to the newcomer.
“Do you know who I have seen?” she said.
“I know,” said Gaila softly. “Your eyes say so.”
The Egyptian woman smiled. She was confident. She said: “The war is imminent, daughter of the Gulf. Will he escape the enemy? Will he please Thutmose?”
Gaila traced figures on the ground and consulted them in accordance with the rotes. She was emotional herself; she moved the bracelets, the rings and the jade serpent for some time.
“Fate is favorable!” she said. “And you can do much for him, if you make his name known to Thutmose.”
“Thutmose will know it,” said Aoura. Can you not accompany me to the palace now?”
“No. That would bring us misfortune...”
The princess looked at her with a melancholy chagrin.
“Why are you rejecting me? I would like to take you upon my heart, to kiss your lips a hundred times. The women of Egypt would laugh with joy if I spoke to them thus. You, I sense your coldness...”
Gaila tilted her elegant head. The memory of so many men who had rushed brutally upon her rendered the tenderness of the daughter of kings more charming. It was the fourth time that the two women had met since the day when they had encountered one another beside the lake of Aroë. Every time, the princess showed herself more familiar and affectionate.
Out of gratitude, the slave offered her lips. Aoura threw herself upon her with a cry of joy. Seizing the voluptuous body of the nomad in both hands, she covered her neck and shoulders with kisses.
“Your mouth is fresh, witch; you are a divine fruit. Can you truly not go with me to the palace of Thutmose?” She contemplated the slave with moist eyes.
That desire increased further when Gaila replied: “I cannot go now.”
“But the gods do not forbid you to come to me forever? Say that you will find a day!”
“I will find a day,” Gaila replied.
Aoura gave her a kiss longer than all the others.
“Will you be here on the day of the full moon?”
“Yes.”
“Oh! Try to determine that I can take you then. I would like to make you happy, you see. Adieu, joy of the eyes, sacred flower...” She went on: “Do you truly believe that the Tanite warrior will escape the war? Are you sure of it? I don’t want him to perish.”
“He will not perish.”
The princess returned to her slaves; the litter disappeared around the bend in the road.
Gaila was still emotional. The Egyptian woman’s amour touched her, because of its tenderness, and she took some pride in it; but she did not understand it. She could not share it, dominated by the profound instincts of the daughters of her race, who only knew the male. Aoura’s generosity penetrated her heart, however. Remembering all the insults that her body had suffered, she was moved to tears.
She lingered for a long time in the same place. The rapid twilight had died over the Nile. The stars of Egypt rose in their glory, and the river, swollen by the waters of Kush, warm, numerous and palpitating, got ready to cover the old fecund earth. It was one of those resplendent nights in which every creature savors the joy of living, and Gaila, sighing prayers, abandoned herself to forgetfulness. She would give herself no rest until had crucified those who had thrown her father into the furnace, and she also wanted, with a good deal of tenderness, the triumph of Setne.
As she was dreaming thus she saw a shadow advancing beneath the luminous dust of the stars. She recognized the rhythm of the stride and placed herself in the middle of the road. “Master!” she cried. “It’s me, Gaila.”
But he had already recognized her.
“What are you doing to the road at this hour?” he said, with a hint of jealous anxiety.
She
replied, gravely: “I’m working for your happiness! I know that you’ve seen the princess and I’ve seen her too. Your image is growing within her. It’s necessary now to be fortunate in the war, and your destiny will be accomplished.”
The slave’s voice was low, but very clear.
“You’ve seen her?” he said, agitatedly.
“I’ve seen her. I’m guiding her will. If she spoke to you at the temple of Amenemhat, it’s because I wished it, my master. Have I not said that a woman can do what would stop men? I’ve rendered your memory brilliant in that young head...”
The road sloped upwards slightly. They perceived the river, which seemed full of falling stars. A subtle, ashen light wandered over the surface of the ground and faded away amid the violet darkness.
“You’ve done that?” he said. “How fortunate I am to have bought you, Gaila! And you’ve talked to her about me again, this evening?”
“About whom do you expect me to talk to her? I traced figures in the sand for her and you; the presages are favorable...”
He extended a grateful hand, but he was intoxicated when it reached the warm and undulating flesh. Drawing the young woman toward him, he kissed her violently on the mouth.
If he knew, thought the slave, that Aoura’s rouge is still there!
She started to laugh, and did not return the kiss.
“I’d like your amour!” he sighed,
She adopted a mocking tone. “It’s necessary not to want everything. It’s a madman who covets the lioness and the gazelle at the same time.”
“What do you want, Gaila? Make a wish, and I’ll grant it!”
“I’ve made my prayer. You promised me your strength to accomplish it. I don’t desire anything now. What could you do, in any case, since you’re about to leave for Mageddo or Kadesh?”
“I could give you your freedom.”
She shuddered. The blood of nomads bounded within her like wild horses on the savannah.
“You could set me free without dread, for the work I want to accomplish for you and the work I want to accomplish by means of you bind me to you. I have made two oaths, from which death alone can release me. Don’t render me my liberty before your return. I’ll be better shielded being your slave.”
He relaxed his grip and said, sadly: “You will love a man of your race.”
“The gods alone know! Don’t think of it yet, my master. It’s necessary to arrange everything for your departure.”
“You’ll accompany me.”
“I will do as you wish, but I don’t think that would be wise. Someone is required to speak about you to the princess, and who can do that except me?”
He said, with jealousy: “But you’ll be alone. I won’t be able to know what you’re doing. And I don’t want you to belong to other men.”
“No force can stop a woman who wants to give her body. Is it possible that you don’t know that? Your presence would make no difference. But be reassured: no man will possess me. I swear that on my brother, and you must know that that is my greatest oath. In the war, I would embarrass you; a woman there is useless and dangerous. Here, I shall not cease to work for your fortune. In any case, it’s necessary that Aoura does not know that I’m your slave. Can you not lodge me elsewhere than in your house? Eventually, even if I’m better hidden than a viper in the grass, I might be discovered there. I know two old women near the city gates who live on the produce of their garden. They only have one female slave. It would be easy for me to live there on my labor, or at very little expense.”
“I don’t want you to work for others!” Setne exclaimed. “You’ll have what you need to live during my absence.”
They walked for some time in silence. Regret as vast and profound as the night enveloped their souls. Setne’s desire launched forth, with an equal force, toward the sister of Thutmose and the intoxicating slave. He did not separate them; it seemed to him that all of destiny was confounded within them; and his soul, still half-primitive, carried away by strong sensations, was no longer astonished. Astonishment is the offspring of old civilizations; Setne now found it simple and natural to conquer Aoura. His hope was as young and energetic as his race.
He spoke in an ardent voice. “You have told me, Gaila, that I will succeed. Do you still believe that?”
“You will succeed, my master. All the signs are favorable, and that is why I want to link myself with your destiny.” In a low voice, with an emphasis that impressed the young man, she added: “The gods have interlaced our lives. They cannot be separated without misfortune for both of us. Don’t forget that.”
He felt full of faith in her. And he did not cease thereafter to have the energy that more often than not leads men to a violent end, but which is the only thing that can also lead them to triumph. Destiny is a gamble; the weak play the game with a small stake, but the strong put their lives on the line.
PART TWO
I
The armies of Thutmose were marching westwards. Already the tributary peoples of Nineveh had seen their phalanges dissolve before the genius of Misraim. The king of Thebes imprinted on multitudes the velocity that had signaled great captains since fabulous times.
They had arrived before the forest of Zahal. A horseman could not go around it in eight days. It was sacred, full of terror, unchanged for a hundred centuries. The desert stopped it to the south and the both; marshes putrefied toward the west, and the plain of Hennar, where Thutmose counted on defeating the forces of Nineveh extended to the east. The Egyptian army had a choice of two routes: the forest or the desert of Hamm. But the forest of narrow paths, almost impenetrable for oxen or donkeys, could not be traversed in a lunation, while it would only take thirteen days to reach the Hennar via the plain and Hamm.21
There was a third way. It followed the Zahal as far as the extreme south, and then the sands of Nomi. The waters were then crossed at a favorable place, and there was a narrow route, difficult but reliable, through the vast marshes. It opened to the Hennar via a gorge. Its length was ten days; but, practicable for a few hundred men, it would not have give passage to an army without immense delays.
By means of his runners and the treason of a Kahai chief, Thutmore had a clear vision of those things; only one way was good. But, like all great war chiefs, he liked to throw multitudes forward in a single mass, and trouble the enemy by means of skillful diversions. If he could seize the gorge that opened to the south of the Hennar with a small troop, the Ninevites, in order to recapture it, would doubtless dissipate numerous phalanges there. That attempt was worth risking a thousand men.
Thutmose was thinking about that, at dusk on the thirteenth day of the sixth moon. The fires of his camp were reddening the stars; the king’s heart swelled as he contemplated that Egypt living in the bosom of Asia, that great river of men that flowed at his voice, all the way to the horizon. And he said to himself that the rapidity of his march had surely surpassed the previsions of Nineveh. The chiefs of the city of bronze must believe that he was still far from the Zahal, and that they would not reach the hills of Hennar for two weeks.
Pensive, Thutmose stood immobile on the edge of the royal tents; the warriors stood up to see, mingled with the fires, the darkness and the coppery moon, the god of victories who was drawing them along in his violent force.
There was a rumor at the frontier of the camp. Messengers came running. They announced that Setne, son of Raneferka, who had been beating the desert with two hundred men, had brought back captives, oxen and donkeys.
Thutmose wanted to speak to Setne.
The chief appeared when the moon had already passed the height of the hills. He threw himself in the dust and adored Thutmose.
“Get up,” said the king, “and reply. Measure your words exactly to the truth.”
Setne got up. Thutmose took pleasure in looking at him, for he was a rapid and perspicacious judge of men.
“How many prisoners do you have? Where did you capture them? Are there chiefs among them?”
&
nbsp; “I’ve taken nearly a hundred prisoners, three days from Zahal, to the south. Being small in number and with buffaloes nourished near the lakes, they counted on crossing the waters at the limit of the desert and passing along the narrow route through the marshes to the Hennar. None escaped. Two chiefs are among them.”
“Have they talked?”
“They have talked, and I know that along the route that they expected to follow, five hundred auxiliary cavaliers are to pass in order to join the armies of Nineveh. They are carrying tributes in precious stones, silver and embroidered cloth.”
“Did those chiefs know of my presence?”
“They were unaware of it. They knew your glory, divine king, but they were unable to divine the rapidity of your march.”
“Did they believe that they would reach the Hennar before the Assyrians?”
“Yes. Your enemies do not expect you there before the black moon.”
Thutmose remained silent. He looked into himself, his destiny, and that of peoples. His meditations clashed like armies, until his will was fixed. Then, still observing the young chief, he said rapidly: “Can you stop that caravan between the marshes, reach the gorge within ten days and take possession of it?”
Setne replied without delay, for Thutmose did not like slow wills.
“The captives have told me the route, and I will be able choose guides among them who will not deceive me. King similar to Ammon, your orders will be accomplished, or your servant will no longer be of this world.”
“I can give you a thousand men. Will you have the strength to lead them?”
“Your gaze cannot be mistaken. I will have the strength, since you do not think me unworthy of it.”
“Go, my son,” said Thutmose, gravely “my gaze serves me well, undoubtedly, but do not think that I do not know the chiefs of my phalanges; it is not without cause that you have been designated to roam the desert. You have succeeded; you will succeed. Good fortune is with you.”
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