The Cat of Bubastes: A Tale of Ancient Egypt

“I am Chebron, the son of Ameres, the high priest of the temple of Osiris at Thebes. These are my friends, Amuba and Jethro, two of the Rebu nation who were brought to Egypt and now live in my father’s household.”

“We are his servants,” Amuba said, “though he is good enough to call us his friends.”

“’Tis strange,” the old man said, “that the son of a priest of Osiris should thus come to gladden the last few hours of one who has always withstood the Egyptian gods. And yet had the crocodile carried off my Ruth, it might have been better for her, seeing that ere the sun has risen and set many times she will be alone in the world.”

The girl uttered a little cry, and rising on her knees threw her arms round the old man’s neck.

“It must be so, my Ruth. I have lived a hundred and ten years in this land of the heathen, and my course is run; and were it not for your sake I should be glad that it is so, for my life has been sorrow and bitterness. I call her my grandchild, but she is in truth the daughter of my grandchild, and all who stood between her and me have passed away before me and left us alone together. But she trusts in the God of Abraham, and he will raise up a protector for her.”

Chebron, who had learned something of the traditions of the Israelites dwelling in Egypt, saw by the old man’s words that Jethro’s surmises were correct and that he belonged to that race.

“You are an Israelite,” he said gently. “How is it that you are not dwelling among your people instead of alone among strangers?”

“I left them thirty years back when Ruth’s mother was but a tottering child. They would not suffer me to dwell in peace among them, but drove me out because I testified against them.”

“Because you testified against them?” Chebron repeated in surprise.

“Yes. My father was already an old man when I was born, and he was one of the few who still clung to the faith of our fathers. He taught me that there was but one God, the God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob, and that all other gods were but images of wood and stone. To that faith I clung, though after awhile I alone of all our people held to the belief. The others had forgotten their God and worshiped the gods of the Egyptians. When I would speak to them they treated my words as ravings and as casting dishonor on the gods they served.

“My sons went with the rest, but my daughter learned the true faith from my lips and clung to it. She taught her daughter after her, and ten years ago, when she too lay dying, she sent Ruth by a messenger to me, praying me to bring her up in the faith of our fathers, and saying that though she knew I was of a great age, she doubted not that when my time came God would raise up protectors for the child. So for ten years we have dwelt here together, tilling and watering our ground and living on its fruit and by the sale of baskets that we weave and exchange for fish with our neighbors. The child worships the God of our fathers, and has grown and thriven here for ten years; but my heart is heavy at the thought that my hours are numbered and that I see no way after me but that Ruth shall return to our people, who will assuredly in time wean her from her faith.”

“Never, grandfather,” the girl said firmly. “They may beat me and persecute me, but I will never deny my God.”

“They are hard people the Israelites,” the old man said, shaking his head, “and they are stubborn and must needs prevail against one so tender. However, all matters are in the hands of God, who will again reveal himself in his due time to his people who have forgotten him.”

Amuba, looking at the girl, thought that she had more power of resistance than the old man gave her credit for. Her face was of the same style of beauty as that of some of the young women he had seen in the villages of the Israelites, but of a higher and finer type. Her face was almost oval, with soft black hair, and delicately marked eyebrows running almost in a straight line below her forehead. Her eyes were large and soft, with long lashes veiling them, but there was a firmness about the lips and chin that spoke of a determined will, and gave strength to her declaration “Never.”

There was silence a moment, and then Chebron said almost timidly:

“My father, although high priest of Osiris, is not a bigot in his religion. He is wise and learned, and views all things temperately, as my friends here can tell you. He knows of your religion; for I have heard him say that when they first came into this land the Israelites worshiped one God only. I have a sister who is of about the same age as Ruth, and is gentle and kind. I am sure that if I ask my father he will take your grandchild into his household to be a friend and companion to Mysa, and I am certain that he would never try to shake her religion, but would let her worship as she chooses.”

The old man looked fixedly at Chebron.

“Your speech is pleasant and kind, young sir, and your voice has an honest ring. A few years back I would have said that I would rather the maiden were dead than a handmaid in the house of an Egyptian; but as death approaches we see things differently, and it may be that she would be better there than among those who once having known the true God have forgotten him and taken to the worship of idols. I have always prayed and believed that God would raise up protectors for Ruth, and it seems to me now that the way you have been brought hither in these latter days of my life is the answer to my prayer. Ruth, my child, you have heard the offer, and it is for you to decide. Will you go with this young Egyptian lord and serve his sister as a handmaiden, or will you return to the villages of our people?”

Ruth had risen to her feet now, and was looking earnestly at Chebron, then her eyes turned to the faces of Amuba and Jethro, and then slowly went back again to Chebron.

“I believe that God has chosen for me,” she said at last, “and has sent them here not only to save my life, but to be protectors to me; their faces are all honest and good. If the father of this youth will receive me, I will, when you leave me, go and be the handmaid of his daughter.”

“It is well,” the old man said. “Now I am ready to depart, for my prayers have been heard. May God deal with you and yours, Egyptian, even as you deal with my child.”

“May it be so,” Chebron replied reverently.

“I can tell you,” Jethro said to the old man, “that in no household in Egypt could your daughter be happier than in that of Ameres. He is the lord and master of Amuba and myself, and yet, as you see, his son treats us not as servants, but as friends. Ameres is one of the kindest of men; and as to his daughter Mysa, whose special attendant I am, I would lay down my life to shield her from harm. Your grandchild could not be in better hands. As to her religion, although Ameres has often questioned Amuba and myself respecting the gods of our people, he has never once shown the slightest desire that we should abandon them for those of Egypt.”

“And now,” Chebron said, “we will leave you; for doubtless the excitement has wearied you, and Ruth needs rest and quiet after her fright. We are encamped a mile away near the lake, and will come and see you to-morrow.”

Not a word was spoken for some time after they left the house, and then Chebron said:

“It really would almost seem as if what that old man said was true, and that his God had sent us there that a protector might be found for his daughter. It was certainly strange that we should happen to be within sound of her voice when she was seized by that crocodile, and be able to rescue her just in time. It needed, you see, first, that we should be there, then that the crocodile should seize her at that moment, and, lastly, that we should be just in time to save her being dragged into the river. A crocodile might have carried her away ten thousand times without any one being within reach to save her and the chances were enormously against any one who did save her being in a position to offer her a suitable home at her grandfather’s death.”

“It is certainly strange. You do not think that your father will have any objection to take her?” Amuba asked.

“Oh, no; he may say that he does not want any more servants in the house, but I am sure that when he sees her he will be pleased to have such a companion for Mysa. If it was my mother I do not know. Most likely she would say no; but when she hears that it has all been settled, she will not trouble one way or the other about it. I will write my father a letter telling him all about it, and send off one of the slaves with it at once. He can get back to-morrow, and it will gladden the old man’s heart to know that it is all arranged. I wish to tell my father, too, of my trouble.”

“What trouble?” Amuba asked in surprise. “You have told me nothing about anything troubling you.”

“Do you not understand, Amuba? I am in trouble because I struck the crocodile; it is an impious action, and yet what could I do?”

Amuba repressed an inclination to smile.

“You could do nothing else, Chebron, for there was no time to mince matters. He was going too fast for you to explain to him that he was doing wrong in carrying off a girl, and you therefore took the only means in your power of stopping him; besides, the blow you dealt him did him no injury whatever. It was Jethro and the hunter who killed him.”

“But had I not delayed his flight they could not have done so.”

“That is true enough, Chebron; but in that case he would have reached the water with his burden and devoured her at his leisure. Unless you think that his life is of much more importance than hers, I cannot see that you have anything to reproach yourself with.”

“You do not understand me, Amuba,” Chebron said pettishly. “Of course I do not think that the life of an ordinary animal is of as much importance as that of a human being; but the crocodiles are sacred, and misfortune falls upon those who injure them.”

“Then in that case, Chebron, misfortune must fall very heavily on the inhabitants of those districts where the crocodile is killed wherever he is found. I have not heard that pestilence and famine visit those parts of Egypt with more frequency than they do the districts where the crocodile is venerated.”

Chebron made no answer. What Amuba said was doubtless true; but upon the other hand, he had always been taught that the crocodile was sacred, and if so he could not account for the impunity with which these creatures were destroyed in other parts of Egypt. It was another of the puzzles that he so constantly met with. After a long pause he replied:

“It may seem to be as you say; but you see, Amuba, there are some gods specially worshiped in one district, others in another. In the district that a god specially protects he would naturally be indignant were the animals sacred to him to be slain, while he might pay no heed to the doings in those parts in which he is little concerned.”

“In that case, Chebron, you can clearly set your mind at rest. Let us allow that it is wrong to kill a crocodile in the district in which he is sacred and where a god is concerned about his welfare, but that no evil consequences can follow the slaying of him in districts in which he is not sacred, and where his god, as you say, feels little interest in him.”

“I hope that is so, Amuba; and that as the crocodile is not a sacred animal here no harm may come from my striking one, though I would give much that I had not been obliged to do so. I hope that my father will regard the matter in the same light.”

“I have no doubt that he will do so, Chebron, especially as we agreed that you did no real harm to the beast.”

“Is it not strange, Jethro,” Amuba said when Chebron had gone into the tent, “that wise and learned people like the Egyptians should be so silly regarding animals?”

“It is strange, Amuba, and it was hard to keep from laughing to hear you so gravely arguing the question with Chebron. If all the people held the same belief I should not be surprised; but as almost every animal worshiped in one of the districts is hated and slain in another, and that without any evil consequences arising, one would have thought that they could not but see for themselves the folly of their belief. What are we going to do to-morrow?”

“I do not think that it is settled; we have had one day at each of the sports. Rabah said that to-morrow we could either go out and see new modes of fishing, or accompany the fowlers and watch them catching birds in the clap nets, or go out into the desert and hunt ibex. Chebron did not decide, but I suppose when he has finished his letter we shall hear what he intends to do.”

After Chebron had finished his letter, which was a long one, he called Rabah and asked him to dispatch it at once by the fleetest-footed of the slaves.

“He will get there,” he said, “before my father retires to rest. If he does not reply at once, he will probably answer in the morning, and at any rate the man ought to be back before midday.”

At dinner Amuba asked Chebron whether he had decided what they should do the next day.

“We might go and look at the men with the clap nets,” Chebron answered. “They have several sorts in use, and take numbers of pigeons and other birds. I think that will be enough for to-morrow. We have had four days’ hard work, and a quiet day will be pleasant, and if we find the time goes slowly, we can take a boat across the lake and look at the Great Sea beyond the sandhills that divide the lake from it; beside, I hope we shall get my father’s answer, and I should like some further talk with that old Israelite. It is interesting to learn about the religion that his forefathers believed in, and in which it seems that he and his grandchild are now the last who have faith.”

“It will suit me very well to have a quiet day, Chebron; for in any case I do not think I could have accompanied you. My ribs are sore from the whack the crocodile gave me with his tail, and I doubt whether I shall be able to walk to-morrow.”

Indeed, the next morning Amuba was so stiff and sore that he was unable to rise from his couch.