The Second G.A. Henty

by G. A. Henty

  Here a voice, which the three listeners recognized to their surprise as that of Ruth, broke out:

  “Do not listen to him, Mysa. Whatever comes of it, never consent to lie before God, as this wicked man would have you. You call yourself a high priest, sir. What must be the worth of the gods you pretend to worship if they suffer one like you to minister to them? Were they gods, and not mere images of stone, they would strike you dead at the altar.”

  A furious exclamation broke from Ptylus, and he stepped forward and seized the Hebrew girl roughly by the shoulder, only to start back with another exclamation as Ruth struck him with her open hand, with all her force, on the cheek.

  “Drag her hence, Plexo!” he exclaimed. But at this moment the entrance was darkened, and the three listeners sprang into the room.

  Ptylus had the courage that distinguished his race, and although for a moment startled at the sudden entry he did not recoil, but drawing a sword from his girdle he said haughtily:

  “Who are you, and what means this intrusion?”

  “We are those whom you have been hunting to death, Ptylus; and we come here as avengers of blood. As you brought about the murder of Ameres, so you must die—to say naught of your offense in carrying off the daughter of the man you slew.”

  Without a word Ptylus rushed upon Jethro with his sword, thinking to make short work of this insolent peasant; but as he did so, Jethro whirled his massive club round his head, and catching the blow upon it, shivered the sword in pieces.

  Ptylus stopped his arm, and, gazing steadily at his opponent, said:

  “Wretch, do you dare to murder the high priest of Osiris?”

  “No,” Jethro said, “but I dare to execute him,” and he brought his heavy club down with all his strength upon the head of the priest.

  At this moment Plexo, who had stolen unobserved from the room the instant the others entered, returned, followed by three armed men. Chebron and Amuba were so intent upon the combat between Jethro and the priest that they did not notice the entrance of Plexo, who, with uplifted knife, sprang upon Chebron.

  There was a scream of warning, and quick as thought Ruth sprang forward and pushed Plexo as he sprang through the air. The sudden shock threw both to the ground. Ruth sprang to her feet again, but Plexo lay there motionless. The three armed men stood for a moment stupefied at the fall of their two employers, and then, seeing two men and a woman, rushed forward to attack them. One sweeping blow with Jethro’s staff felled the first of his assailants to the ground; the others paused irresolute.

  “Drop your weapons, or you are dead men!” Jethro exclaimed. “You are outnumbered; and if you move, you die!”

  As Chebron had now thrown back his female robe and drawn his dagger, and taken his place at the door, while Jethro and Amuba were advancing against them, the two men dropped their weapons.

  “Hold out your hands,” Jethro said. “My son, stand over them with your club, and break the skull of either who may move.”

  The men did as they were ordered. Jethro tore strips of cloth off their garments, twisted them into ropes, and bound their wrists firmly together. The meaning tone in which Jethro had called Amuba his son had not escaped either Amuba or Chebron, who saw that Jethro was desirous of concealing their names. Mysa, who had raised a cry of joy when Jethro first spoke, had sunk terrified upon a couch, and had hidden her face in her hands during the short encounter; while Ruth had stood silent and vigilant beside her, moving only when Plexo rushed at Chebron, and retiring to Mysa’s side again as soon as she had regained her feet. She, too, understood Jethro’s motives in calling Amuba his son, and stooping over Mysa she said:

  “It is all over now, Mysa, but remain quiet at present. Do not speak until you see what is going to be done.”

  As soon as the men were tied Jethro secured in the same manner the man who was lying stunned from his blow. Then he turned to Plexo, who had not moved since he had fallen. He half turned him round, and uttered a low exclamation of surprise.

  “Gastrion,” he said to Chebron, “go with the young lady into the garden, and remain there until we join you.”

  Chebron passed out on to the colonnade, following Mysa and Ruth. The moment they were unobserved Mysa threw her arms round him, and burst into tears with joy.

  “Oh, Chebron!” she exclaimed, “you have arrived just in time. I thought we were never going to get away from that dreadful man; and I don’t know what I should have done if it hadn’t been for Ruth. And, oh! they have been telling me such terrible things—but they can’t be true—that our dear father had been killed; and that it was you, Chebron, who killed dear Paucis; but of course I did not believe them—I knew it was all their wickedness.”

  “Never mind about that, dear,” Chebron said;. “we will talk about all this afterward. The first thing is to get you away from this place. Jethro and Amuba will soon decide what is best to be done. Are there any others in the house?”

  “There is one other man,” Ruth replied, “and an old woman; I think the other man is at the door with the chariot.”

  “I had better tell Jethro,” Chebron said, and he again went into the room and told Jethro what he had heard.

  “We will seize the woman first,” Jethro said, “and then go out round the house and come down from the other way upon the chariot. The man will have heard the outcry; and if we came suddenly out of the door, might leap into the chariot and drive off before we could overtake him. But if we come upon it from behind we shall secure him.”

  “But you have forgotten to bind Plexo,” Chebron said.

  “Plexo is dead,” Jethro replied. “As he fell his arm was beneath him, and the knife with which he had intended to strike you pierced his heart. I am very glad that you observed the way I spoke to Amuba. It was of the greatest importance that the name should not be mentioned. This affair will cause a tremendous excitement. There is nothing to connect us with Ptylus, and it may be supposed that it is the work of some malefactors who came down from the hills in search of plunder. The fact that Mysa was here and was carried away is not in itself any proof that we had a hand in it, for Libyan robbers might well have carried her and Ruth away to make slaves of. Plexo caught but a glimpse of us, and doubtless only rushed out and called to the men to come to his father’s assistance. At any rate, let there be no names mentioned. Now let us finish our work here.”

  The female servant was soon found and bound; then the four prisoners were placed in different rooms, and fastened securely to the wall or pillars.

  “Never put two prisoners together,” Jethro said;. “always remember that. Tie one man up and you may keep him; tie up two and they are sure to escape. They can bite through each other’s cords, or untie the knot with their teeth, or possibly even with their fingers.”

  “Now, what is the next thing to do?” Amuba asked.

  “The next thing is to have a consultation. Do you, Chebron, go out into the garden to the girls. Amuba and I will deal with the other man.”

  As soon as Jethro and Amuba had left him Chebron rejoined the girls.

  “You saved my life, Ruth. I shall never forget it.”

  “You saved me from the crocodile, my lord. It was but a push and he fell. I scarce know how it was done.”

  “Your quickness saved my life all the same, Ruth. I had not noticed him till you cried out, and then it would have been too late. We have been anxious for you also, Ruth. We hoped that you might be with Mysa, but none saw you go out with her.”

  “My place was with my mistress,” Ruth said quietly. “And she was more than a mistress—she was as a friend to me.”

  “But how came you here, Chebron,” Mysa again asked, “and why are you dressed up like a peasant woman? It is not seemly in any man, much less in you, a priest. And Amuba and Jethro, too; they are dressed as peasants, and their faces seem changed, I do not know how. They look darker, and I should not have known them had I not recognized Jethro’s voice.”

  “It is a long story, dear, and I wi
ll tell you all presently; and we want to hear your story too. Ah! Here come the others. It is to them, Mysa, far more than to me that you owe your rescue. I may know more of the learning of our people, but I have none of the readiness and coolness of Amuba, while Jethro is as prudent as he is brave. It would have fared hardly with me as well as with you, Mysa, had it not been for these good friends.”

  Mysa went up to them as they approached.

  “Oh, Jethro! I feel how much I owe to you; and to you, Amuba. My courage had all but given way, although Ruth strove so hard to give me hope, and I fear I could not have long withstood the threats of that bad man. You cannot tell what joy I felt when I recognized your voice.”

  “Our joy was as great in finding you as yours in seeing us,” Jethro replied. “Amuba and I would gladly have laid down our lives for you. And now let us have a consultation; there is much to decide upon and arrange. Let us go round to the garden at the other side of the house. There we can sit and talk, and at the same time keep watch that no one else enters. It is not likely that any one will do so, for the place is secluded, and none would know that these men were here; still a peasant might enter to sell fowls or fruit, therefore it were best to keep an eye upon the entrance.”

  They went round to some seats placed beneath trees on the other side of the house. A fountain worked by the water of a little rill on the hillside played in front of them, and a few tame waterfowl swam in a shallow basin around it. Everything was still and peaceful, and to Chebron it seemed as if the events of the last three weeks had been a hideous dream, and that they were again sitting in the garden of their house at Thebes.

  “Now, first of all,” Mysa said, “I must have my questions answered. How are my father and mother and everyone?”

  Jethro took Amuba’s arm and turned away.

  “We will leave you, Chebron, to tell Mysa what has taken place. It will be better for you to do so alone.”

  Ruth rose from her seat to leave also, but Mysa put her hand on her arm.

  “I am frightened, Ruth; stay with me.”

  “You told me, Mysa,” Chebron began, “that they had told you tales that our father was dead, and that it was I who killed Paucis.”

  “Yes; but I did not believe them, Chebron. Of course I did not for a moment—at least not for a moment about you. But when I thought of those bad men at the gate, and the crash we heard, and the noise of the people rushing in shouting, I thought—I was afraid—that perhaps it might be true about our father. But, oh, Chebron, surely it is not so?”

  “Alas! Mysa, it is true! They cruelly slew our father. I wish I had been there to have fallen by his side; but you know Amuba and I were away. Jethro fought desperately to the last, and would have died with him had not our father himself commanded that in case anything happened to him he was to take charge of me, and to carry me out of the land.”

  Mysa was crying bitterly now. Presently she looked up.

  “But why should you want to leave the land, Chebron? Surely—surely it is not true that you——”

  The thing seemed too terrible for her to put into words.

  “That I killed poor Paucis? That is true also, Mysa.”

  Mysa gave a little cry of horror.

  “Oh, Ruth!” she cried, “this is too dreadful!”

  Ruth put her arms round the sobbing girl. “You may be sure, Mysa, that your brother did not do it intentionally.”

  “But it is all the same,” Mysa cried. “It was the sacred cat, you know—the Cat of Bubastes.”

  “It was, Mysa; and I thought at first, as you did, that although it was the result of an accident the anger of the gods would be poured out against me, that I was as one accursed, whose life was forfeited in this world, and whose spirit was destined to dwell in unclean beasts after death. But when I told my father all, he reassured me, and told me not to fear in any way the wrath of the gods.”

  He then related to his sister the manner in which the cat had been killed, the steps he and Amuba had taken to conceal the body, and his avowal to his father of his fault.

  “I see it was not your fault, Chebron. But you know the laws of Egypt, and the punishment for killing even a common cat. How could our father say that the gods would not be angry?”

  “I cannot tell you all he said, Mysa; though some day had I remained with you I might have done so. But he did say so, and you know how wise and good he was. Therefore I want you to remember what he said, so that when I am gone you will not all your life think of me as one accursed.”

  “Oh! I should never do that!” Mysa exclaimed, starting up and throwing her arms round her brother’s neck. “How could you think so? But why are you talking about going, and where are you going?”

  “I am going, Mysa, because the people of Egypt do not view this matter in the same light as my father, but are hunting all the land to find and slay me and Amuba; for, not knowing the exact truth, they put us down as equally guilty. So we must fly. Our father gave full directions to Jethro, and we should by this time have been a long distance away had it not been that we stayed to find and rescue you.”

  “Then if the other things they told me are true, Chebron, it may be true too that the letter they showed me ordering me to consent to marry Plexo was from my mother. How could she tell me that when she knew that I hated him, and she has over and over again spoken scornfully of his family before me?”

  “What did she say?” Chebron asked.

  “She said that now disgrace had fallen on the family I might think myself very fortunate in obtaining such an offer.”

  Chebron was silent. He knew that his mother had never shown any earnest love either for Mysa or himself, that her thoughts were entirely devoted to dress and entertainments, and that any love she had to give had been bestowed upon his brother.

  “I fear it is true, Mysa.”

  “But I will never marry Plexo!” Mysa exclaimed passionately. “My father always said I should never marry a man I disliked.”

  “You will never marry Plexo, Mysa—he is dead.”

  Ruth uttered an exclamation.

  “He died by his own hand, Ruth—that is, by an accident. As he fell his dagger pierced his own heart, and when Jethro went to look at him he was dead.”

  “The Lord requited him for his evil,” Ruth said firmly. “All things are in his hands. As I did not mean to slay him, I lament not over his death. Besides, he strove to take your life, and had I had a dagger in my hand I should assuredly have used it.”

  “Then what is to become of me?” Mysa asked.

  “You must go back to your mother, Mysa. There is naught else for you to do.”

  “I will not!” Mysa exclaimed. “She never loved me. She would have married me against my will to Plexo, although she knew he was bad, and that I hated him. She would make me marry some one else who was rich, regardless of my wishes. No, Chebron, nothing shall make me go back to her.”

  Chebron looked perplexed.

  “Here come Jethro and Amuba, dear. You had best talk it over with them. I see nothing else for you to do.”

  As Jethro came up Mysa walked to meet him.

  “I will not go back to my mother, Jethro!” she exclaimed impetuously. “She wanted me to marry Plexo. She would give me to some one else, and my father always said I should only marry some one I liked. You can never be so cruel as to give me up to her?”

  “I know that your father’s wishes were strong upon that point,” Jethro said;. “for he spoke to me of you when he gave me his commands respecting Chebron. He said that he wished that I could watch over you as over him, and it was because of what he had said that I disregarded his orders as to our instant flight, and lingered here in hopes of freeing you. Still I see not anything else to be done. Your mother doubtless wrote while still overpowered by grief at your father’s loss, and thought that she was acting for your welfare in securing you an advantageous marriage in spite of the cloud under which your family was resting.”

  “I will not go to her!” My
sa repeated. “She thought of herself, as she always did, and not of me in any way. You know it was so, Chebron—you cannot deny it!”

  Chebron was silent. His whole affection had been given to his father, for his mother he had comparatively little. As a child he had seldom been allowed to come into the room where she was. She declared that his noise was too much for her, that his talk made her head ache, and that his fidgeting about was too much to be borne. Nor since that time had he been much more with her. It was his father who had seen to his welfare and that of Mysa, who would put aside his grave studies to walk and talk with them, who was always indulgent, always anxious to give them pleasure. He therefore thoroughly entered into Mysa’s feelings, but saw no possible alternative for her.

  “But where could you go, Mysa?” Jethro asked. “Where could you be placed? Wherever you were your mother in time would be sure to hear of it and would reclaim you.”

  “I shall go with Chebron, and you, and Amuba,” Mysa said positively.

  “Impossible!” Jethro replied. “We are going upon a tremendous journey, full of danger and fatigue. We are going among unknown and savage peoples; the chances are a hundred to one against our ever arriving at the end of our journey. If this is so to myself and to young men like Chebron and Amuba—for they are now past eighteen, and will speedily be men—what chance would there be of success with you with us?”

  “I can walk as well as Chebron,” Mysa said. “You know that, Chebron. And I suppose I could suffer hardship just as well. At any rate, I would rather suffer anything and be with him and all of you than stop here. The people have murdered my father. My mother would sell me to the highest bidder. If the chances are so great that you will never get through your journey in safety, my being with you cannot make them so much greater. I have only Chebron in the world, and I will go where he goes and die where he dies. The gods can protect me just as well on a journey as here. Have they not protected you now, and Chebron too, by what he says? You will take me with you, dear Jethro, won’t you?” she urged pleadingly. “You say my father wished you to watch over me; do not forsake me now. Ruth will come with us too—will you not, Ruth?—I am sure she will not be more afraid of the journey than I am.”