Best Short Stories Omnibus - Volume 2

Fragment VIII

Fragment VIIIIwatched her retreating figure as she fled in the direction of our home; I watched him for a while, as he slowly paced up and down by the edge of the water, dreaming, no doubt, of her; and as I watched, gradually in my mind was formed the plan that Set has given me power to execute, and which has parted them for ever, as no other barrier could have done, leaving them to lead a life of loneliness far harder to bear than death.

The sacred image of Isis had gradually sunk upon the vault of heaven; in a little while, from the bed of the lotus flower cradled on the bosom of Nu, Osiris would rise again, whilst Isis went to rest.

Already, from the distance, I could faintly hear the priests of the goddess and her priestesses, as, playing upon the sistrum and the harp, they approached the sacred temple for the early morning's sacrifice.

Would Isis wait till I had done the deed? Even then she veiled her countenance behind a cloud as I turned towards her temple! I mounted the tall granite steps, and pushed open the doors that guard her sacred dwelling-place.

At first I could not see round me, for the temple was wrapt in gloom save for the five-armed lamp that burned before the high altar. But presently my fevered eyes became accustomed to the semi-darkness, and I began to discern the objects round. The heavy columns began to detach themselves from the gloom, then the sacrificial altar with its upward floating vapors, and beyond that the monstrous figure of the goddess herself as she sat enthroned and majestic, all-powerful and grand in her very loneliness.

The jewels on her head and on her limbs glittered in the flickering light, the sacred ruby on her finger sparkled like a living drop of blood. All around was still as the grave and I could almost hear my panting breath as it escaped my nostrils. I would have prayed to the goddess then, but I dared not do that, and I walked resolutely forward. On the altar steps two priestesses knelt. They had not heard me as I walked, for they had not turned their heads towards me, and presently they took up their harps that had lain idle in their hands, and began, at first softly, then gradually louder, chanting the early morning hymn—Isis's lullaby. This was echoed from afar by the priests upon their sistrums. They were drawing near—I had no time to lose.

With the stealthy motions of a leopard I approached one of the priestesses, who sang and heard me not. She was young and fair to look at, but not to be compared with her whom I had loved, and who had done me so great a wrong. Then I waited. . . . .

Waited till, with a loud flourish of trumpet and drum, the doors of the sacred temple were thrown open, and the torch-bearers, holding their braziers aloft, threw a flood of brilliant light into the gloom. The shaven priests of Isis, each draped in clinging white garments, their thin arms held upwards, and their hands beating the sistrum, filed past the columns towards the altar. Behind them walked a hundred priestesses, each playing upon a harp, whilst from a side door entered the high priest, his robes covered with turquoise and gems, and in his hands the holy vessels that held the sacrificial blood.

The priestesses intoned the second hymn; through the wide open portals, far beyond on the vault of heaven, could be seen the crescent image of the goddess, as she gradually paled at the approach of her spouse.

At this moment and before the eyes of all assembled, before she could utter a cry or see from whence came her foe, I had seized the young priestess by her waist and by her long, floating tresses, and lifting her high above my head, carried her up the granite steps to the foot of the sacrificial altar.

One long cry of horror sprung from those who witnessed the sacrilegious deed; the procession, the priests, the High Priest himself stood spell-bound, as if rooted to the spot. No doubt, the light of mania must have shone from my eyes, my figure must have looked like that of a spirit of evil, as I stood there for one moment by the altar, looking down upon the holy multitude, my arms, which seemed to have the strength of giants, holding the slim figure of the young girl high above my head.

She did not struggle; like a frightened bird, she had fainted from sheer terror. Those nearest to me had, however, succeeded in mastering their first terror, the priests were about to rush upon me to seize me, and thus to prevent any further sacrilege; but before they had time to reach me, the deed was consummated—I had thrown the dainty body down upon the altar, and, with one of the knives placed there for holy sacrifice, had slain this innocent victim to my implacable vengeance.

There was a moment of awful, solemn silence, as the blood of the murdered priestess flowed freely upon the sacred altar. Then the high-pontiff and the priests, uttering a long groan of horror, fell prostrate upon the granite floor, their shaven heads beating the ground, whilst the priestesses, throwing down their harps and lutes, began to tear their garments and to utter mournful chants of prayer and atonement. I had made no attempt to escape, and calmly awaited those among the crowd who presently rushed upon me, dragging me away from the altar, and forced me to kneel with my head in the dust, whilst my hands were securely tied behind my back.

At a command from the High Priest, all those assembled rose to their feet, and while the mournful chant still continued, intermingled with muffled beating of drums, they marched through the temple, and up the stairs that led to the roof; I was dragged in the rear of the procession, and there we all stood under the vault of heaven, where Osiris rose majestic beyond the waters of the Nile. Isis now had gone to rest; would she ever rise again, to look upon the land where such dire sacrilege had been done?

I was placed alone in the centre of the space, the priests and priestesses grouped in a semi-circle around me, my face turned towards Abydos, still wrapt in sleep. Then the High Priest, with power far beyond his years, took up the mighty clapper, and with vigorous arm thrice smote the ponderous gong that stands on the roof of the temple of Isis, and that is never struck, except to warn the people of Abydos of terrible disasters to them and to their homes.

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