THE BED OF TORMENT
It was nightfall, and Pharaoh sat at meat and Meriamun sat by him. The heart of Pharaoh was very heavy. He thought of that great army which now washed to and fro on the waters of the Sea of Weeds, of whose number he alone had lived to tell the tale. He thought also of the host of the Apura, who made a mock of him in the desert. But most of all he brooded on the tidings that the messenger had brought, tidings of the march of the barbarians and of the fleet of the Aquaiusha that sailed on the eastern stream of Sihor. All that day he had sat in his council chamber, and sent forth messengers east and north and south, bidding them gather the mercenaries from every town and in every city, men to make war against the foe, for here, in his white-walled city of Tanis, there were left but five thousand soldiers. And now, wearied with toil and war, he sat at meat, and as he sat bethought him of the man whom he had left to guard the Queen.
"Where, then, is that great Wanderer, he who wore the golden harness?" he asked presently.
"I have a tale to tell thee of the man," Meriamun answered slowly, "a tale which I have not told because of all the evil tidings that beat about our ears like sand in a desert wind."
"Tell on," said Pharaoh.
Then she bent towards him, whispering in his ear.
As she whispered, the face of Pharaoh grew black as the night, and ere all the tale was done he sprang to his feet.
"By Amen and by Ptah!" he cried, "here at least we have a foe whom we may conquer. Thou and I, Meriamun, my sister and my queen, are set as far each from each as the sky is set from the temple top, and little of love is there between us. Yet I will wipe away this blot upon thy honour, which also is a blot upon my own. Sleepless shall this Wanderer lie to-night, and sorry shall he go to-morrow, but to-morrow night he shall sleep indeed."
Thereupon he clapped his hands, summoning the guard, and bade them pass to the dungeon where the Wanderer lay, and lead him thence to the place of punishment. He bade them also call the tormentors to make ready the instruments of their craft, and await him in the place of punishment.
Then he sat for awhile, drinking sullenly, till one came to tell him that all was prepared. Then Pharaoh rose.
"Comest thou with me?" he asked.
"Nay," said Meriamun, "I would not look upon the man again; and this I charge thee. Go not down to him this night. Let him be found upon the bed of torment, and let the tormentors give him food and wine, for so he shall die more hardly. Then let them light the fires at his head and at his feet and leave him till the dawn alone in the place of torment. So he shall die a hundred deaths ere ever his death begins."
"As thou wilt," answered Pharaoh. "Mete out thine own punishment.
To-morrow when I have slept I will look upon his torment." And he spoke to his servants as she desired.
The Wanderer lay on the bed of torment in the place of torment. They had taken the gag from his mouth, and given him food and wine as Pharaoh commanded. He ate and drank and his strength came back to him.
Then they made fast his fetters, lit the braziers at his head and foot, and left him with mocking words.
He lay upon the bed of stone and groaned in the bitterness of his heart. Here then was the end of his wanderings, and this was the breast of the Golden Helen in whose arms Aphrodite had sworn that he should lie. Oh, that he were free again and stood face to face with his foes, his harness on his back! Nay, it might not be, no mortal strength could burst these fetters, not even the strength of Odysseus, Laertes' son. Where now were those Gods whom he had served? Should he never again hear the clarion cry of Pallas? Why then had he turned him from Pallas and worshipped at the shrine of the false Idalian Queen?
Thus it was that she kept her oaths; thus she repaid her votary.
So he thought in the bitterness of his heart as he lay with closed eyes upon the bed of torment whence there was no escape, and groaned:
"Would, Aphrodite, that I had never served thee, even for one little hour, then had my lot gone otherwise."
Now he opened his eyes, and lo! a great glory rolled about the place of torment, and as he wondered at the glory, a voice spoke from its midst--the voice of the Idalian Aphrodite:
"Blame me not, Odysseus," said the heavenly voice; "blame me not because thou art come to this pass. Thyself, son of Laertes, art to blame. What did I tell thee? Was it not that thou shouldst know the Golden Helen by the Red Star on her breast, the jewel whence fall the red drops fast, and by the Star alone? And did she not tell thee, also, that thou shouldst know her by the Star? Yet when one came to thee wearing no Star but girdled with a Snake, my words were all forgotten, thy desires led thee whither thou wouldst not go. Thou wast blinded by desire and couldst not discern the False from the True.
Beauty has many shapes, now it is that of Helen, now that of Meriamun, each sees it as he desires it. But the Star is yet the Star, and the Snake is yet the Snake, and he who, bewildered of his lusts, swears by the Snake when he should have sworn by the Star, shall have the Snake for guerdon."
She ceased, and the Wanderer spoke, groaning bitterly:
"I have sinned, O Queen!" he said. "Is there then no forgiveness for my sin?"
"Yea, there is forgiveness, Odysseus, but first there is punishment.
This is thy fate. Never now, in this space of life, shalt thou be the lord of the Golden Helen. For thou hast sworn by the Snake, and his thou art, nor mayest thou reach the Star. Yet it still shines on.
Through the mists of death it shall shine for thee, and when thou wakest again, behold, thine eyes shall see it fitfully.
