Fragment IV
453 Words
Fragment IVLet me try and tell thee clearly exactly how it all happened, my son! Remember, this is not a justification, it is merely a prayer! A prayer for sympathy, and perhaps for pardon.
Har-urdu had offered up the sacrifice to Set, the god that Pharaoh now worshipped, and revered even above thee, oh! mighty Osiris! I thought how handsome he looked as he stood in front of the altar, opposite the high priest, pouring from the sacred vessel the sacrificial blood upon the stone, while the priests beat upon the sistrum, and the holy priestesses chanted the glories of the deity, playing upon the harp and lyre.
I looked at thy mother, and thought how fair she was; her eyes were aglow with suppressed excitement; one tiny hand was pressed against her bosom, as if to still that mysterious beating, which is our very life. Har-urdu was now descending the altar steps, and turning towards the throne of Pharaoh, who was waiting to present him with a golden shield that was inscribed with all his victories.
To reach the kingly throne he had to pass quite close to us, close to thy mother, who watched his face, his every movement, as she would watch a god's. He came, he was near us, had almost passed, when my wife, thy mother, oh! my son! tore the lotus-flower she was wearing at her bosom, and imprinting a kiss upon its delicate petals, threw it with a smile at the conqueror's feet! He paused a moment to see whose hand had thrown the dainty blossom, then he turned towards her and their eyes met! . . . . . .
It occurred all in one instant, the next he had stooped and picked up the flower; tenderly he smoothed its crumpled petals, and also placed a kiss upon the blossom, looking triumphantly the while at her, whose glorious eyes hung upon each of his movements.
I could hear a titter go round among the spectators; the ladies of high degree whispered to each other as they smiled. The mighty Pharaoh waited half-impatiently, half-sneeringly, while this short scene was being enacted. Thy mother heeded them not, and looked neither right nor left, but followed, with her great dark eyes, the figure of the conqueror, as he once more turned his steps towards the Pharaoh's throne, where, presently, he knelt to receive the golden shield, the further reward of his victories; and I, with jealous fury raging in my bosom, longed to jump up and wrench from him that one trophy, which meant more to me than a thousand victories would have done, the trophy he had hidden close to his breast, the delicate pink lotus blossom flung at him, my son! by thy mother's dainty hand, together with thy mother's love.
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