Calasiris carried her quiver, wrapt up in a piece of old leather, as a burden, across his shoulders; and, loosening the string of her bow, made use of it as a walking-stick. If any one approached, he leant heavily upon it, stooping more than his years actually obliged him to do; and, limping with one leg, suffered himself frequently to be led by Chariclea.
When the metamorphosis was completed they could not help smiling at each other's appearance, and, in the midst of their grief, a few jokes upon it escaped them; and beseeching the deities who persecuted them to cease at length from their anger, they made what haste they could to the town of Bessa, where they hoped to find Theagenes and Thyamis. But in this they were disappointed; for arriving near Bessa at sun-setting, they saw the ground strewed with a considerable number of dead bodies, newly slain; most of them were Persians, whom they knew by their habits, but some were the natives of the place. They conjectured this to have been the work of war, but were at a loss to know who had been the combatants. At length, while they were searching and examining the corpses, dreading lest they might find a friend among them (for strong affection is unreasonably apprehensive on the slightest grounds), they saw an old woman, hanging over the body of one of the natives, and loud in her lamentations. They resolved therefore to endeavour to get what intelligence they could from her; and, accosting her, they first tried to soothe her vehement affliction; and then, when she became a little calmer, Calasiris, in the Egyptian tongue, ventured to ask her what was the cause of the slaughter they saw before them, and who it was whom she so lamented. She answered, briefly, that she was mourning for her son; that she came on purpose to the field of battle that some one of the combatants, if any should return, might deprive her of life, now become a burden to her; that meanwhile, amid tears and lamentations, she was endeavouring, as well as she could, to perform funeral rites for her child. The cause of the engagement, says she, was as follows:—"A foreign youth, of remarkable beauty and stature, was proceeding under the direction of Mithranes, the Persian Commandant, in his way to Memphis, where he was to be presented to Oroondates, the Viceroy of the Great King. Mithranes had taken him captive, and thought he could not offer a more agreeable gift. The inhabitants of our town pretending, whether truly or not I cannot say, that they had some knowledge of this young man, came suddenly upon the soldiers of Mithranes, and rescued him. Mithranes, when he heard of it, was violently enraged, and two days ago led his troops against the town. My countrymen are used to war; they lead a piratical life, and despise death when gain or revenge are in view. Many are the widows and orphans they have made, and many mothers have they deprived of their children, as I, unhappy woman, am at this day. As soon, therefore, as they had certain intelligence of the Persians' expedition, they left the city, chose a proper place for an ambuscade, and posting, in concealment, a select body of troops where they knew the enemy must pass, as soon as they appeared, attacked them resolutely in front, while the rest of their companions rushed suddenly, with a great shout, from their ambush, fell upon their flank, and soon put them to the rout. Mithranes fell among the first, and most of his troops with him; for they were so surrounded, that there was little opportunity for flight. A few of our people were slain, and among those few my son, transfixed, as you see, with a Persian dart; and now I, unhappy that I am, am bewailing his loss; and, perhaps, am still reserved to lament that of the only son I have now left, who marched yesterday with the army against the city of Memphis."
Calasiris inquired into the cause of this expedition. The old woman told him what she had heard from her son: That the inhabitants of Bessa, after they had slaughtered the officer and soldiers of the Great King, saw plainly that there was no room for excuse or pardon; that Oroondates, as soon as the intelligence reached Memphis, would immediately set out with his army,[5] surround, besiege, and utterly destroy their town; that therefore they had resolved to follow up one bold deed by a bolder; to anticipate the preparations of the Viceroy; to march, in short, without delay to Memphis, where, if they could arrive unexpectedly, they might possibly surprise and seize his person, if he were in the city; or if he were gone, as was reported, upon an expedition into Ethiopia, they might more easily make themselves masters of a place which was drained of its troops, and so might for some time ward off their danger; and could also reinstate their captain, Thyamis, in the priesthood, of which he had been unjustly deprived by his younger brother. But if they should fail in the bold attempt, they would have the advantage of dying in the field, like men, and escape falling into the hands of the Persians, and being exposed to their insults and tortures. "But, as for you," continued the old woman, "where are you going?"—"Into the town," said Calasiris.—"It is not safe for you," returned she, "at this late hour, and unknown as you are, to go among strangers."—"But if you will receive us into your house," replied the other, "we shall think ourselves safe."—"I cannot receive you just at this time," said she, "for I must now perform some nocturnal sacrifices. But if you can endure it—and indeed you must do so, retire to some distance from the slain, and endeavour to pass the night as well as you can in the plain; in the morning I will gladly receive and entertain you as my guests." When she had said this, Calasiris took Chariclea, and shortly explained to her what had passed between them; and going to a rising ground, not very far from the field of battle, he there reclined himself, putting the quiver under his head.
Chariclea sat down on her wallet—the moon just rising, and beginning to illuminate all around with her silver light; for it was the third day from the full. Calasiris, old, and fatigued with his journey, dropped asleep; but Chariclea's cares kept her waking, and made her spectatress of an impious and accursed scene, but not an unusual one, among the Egyptians. For[6] now the old woman, supposing herself at liberty, and unobserved, dug a sort of pit, and lighted a fire of sticks which she had collected together, on each side of it. Between the two fires she placed the dead body of her son, and taking an earthen cup from a neighbouring tripod, she poured first honey into the trench, then milk, and then wine. She next worked up a kind of paste of dough into something of the similitude of a man, and crowning it with laurel and fennel, cast that too into the ditch. Then snatching up a sword, with many frantic gestures and barbarous invocations to the moon, in an unknown tongue, she wounded herself in the arm, and dipping a branch of laurel in her blood, sprinkled it over the fire. And after many other wild and mystic ceremonies, she stooped down at length to the corpse of her son, whispered something in its ear, and, by the power of her spells, raised and forced it to stand upright.
Chariclea, who had observed the former part of this ceremony, not without apprehension, was now seized with affright and horror, and awakened Calasiris, that he too might be a spectator of what was being done. They, being themselves shrouded in darkness, observed in security what passed by the light of the fires, and were near enough too to hear what was said; the old woman now questioning the dead body in a loud voice,—"Whether its brother, her son, would return in safety?"—it answered nothing; but nodding its head by a doubtful signal, gave its mother room to hope, and then, on a sudden, fell down again upon its face. She turned the body on its back, repeated her question, and whispered, as it should seem, still stronger charms in its ear; and brandishing her sword now over the fire, and now over the trench, raised the corpse again, and putting the same interrogation to it, urged it to answer her, not by nods and signs only, but in actual and distinct words.
Here Chariclea addressed Calasiris, and besought him to approach, and ask something about Theagenes; but he refused altogether; declaring, that it was much against his inclination that he became a compulsory spectator of so impious a scene; for it did not become a priest to be present at, much less to take a part in, such a deed.—"Our divinations," said he, "are made by means of lawful sacrifices, and pure prayers; not by profane ceremonies, and unhallowed conjurations of dead carcases, such as our wayward fate has now obliged us to be witnesses of." But while he was proceeding, the body, with a deep and hollow voice, began to speak, as if its words were uttered from the inmost recesses of a winding cave. "I spared you at first, Ο mother, although you were transgressing the laws of nature, disregarding the decrees of the fates, and disturbing by your enchantments, what ought to remain at rest. There is, even among the departed, a reverence for parents; but since, as far as in you lies, you destroy that reverence, and persist in pushing your wicked incantations to the utmost—since you are not content with raising up a dead body, and forcing it to make signs, but will proceed to compel it to speak; regardless of the care you owe to your son's remains, preventing his shade from mixing with those who are gone before him, and mindful only of your own private convenience and curiosity—hear what I piously avoided disclosing to you before:
"Your son shall return no more; and you yourself shall perish by the sword, and shortly conclude your course by a violent death, worthy of the execrable practices in which you have spent your life; you who are not now alone, as you suppose yourself; but are performing your horrid rites, worthy of being buried in the deepest silence and darkness, in the sight of others, and betraying the secrets of the dead in the hearing of witnesses. One of them is a priest; and his wisdom indeed is such, that he may perhaps see the propriety of concealing what he has seen. He is dear to the gods; and if he hastens his journey, he may prevent his sons from engaging singly with each other in a bloody and deadly fight, and compose their differences. But what is infinitely worse, a maiden has heard and seen everything which has taken place. She is deeply in love, and is wandering through the world in search of her lover, whom, after many toils and dangers, she shall at last obtain, and, in a remote corner of the earth, pass with him a splendid and royal life."
Having said this, the body fell again prone on the ground. The old woman concluding that the strangers were the spectators meant, ran furiously, in all the disorder of her dress, and sword in hand, to seek for them among the dead, where she imagined they had concealed themselves; determined to destroy, if she could find them, the witnesses of her abominable incantations. But while searching incautiously among the carcases, and blinded by her fury, she stumbled, and fell headlong upon a fragment of a spear stuck upright in the earth, which, piercing through her body, soon put an end to her wicked life, and quickly fulfilled the fatal prophecy of her son.
[1] See Book V.