The Yoke. Elizabeth Miller
"Atsu?"
"Even so. From his own bounty and for Rachel," Deborah explained.
Rachel smiled.
"Thou art beset from a new direction," the old woman continued dryly, "but thou hast naught to fear from him."
"Nay; I know," Rachel murmured, arranging her dress.
The garb of the average bondwoman was of startling simplicity. It consisted of two pieces of stuff little wider than the greatest width of the wearer's body, tied by the corners over each shoulder, belted at the waist with a thong and laced together with fiber at the sides, from the hips to a point just above the knee. It was open above and below this simple seam and interfered not at all with the freedom of the wearer's movements. But Rachel's habit was a voluminous surplice, fitting closely at the neck, supplied with wide sleeves, seamed, hemmed and of ample length. Deborah was literally swathed in covering, with only her withered face and hands exposed. There was a hint of rank in their superior dress and more than a suggestion of blood in the bearing of the pair; but they were laborers with the shepherds and serving-people of Israel.
"He would wed thee, after the manner of thy people, and take thee from among Israel," Deborah continued.
The girl drooped her head over the lacing of her habit and made no answer. The old woman looked at her sharply for a moment.
"Well, eat; Rachel, eat," she urged at last. "The marsh-hen will stand thee in good stead and thou hast a weary day before thee."
Rachel looked at the old woman and made mental comparison between the ancient figure and her strong, young self. With great deliberation she divided the fowl into a large and small part.
"This," she said, extending the larger to Deborah, "is thine. Take it," waving aside the protests of the old woman, "or the first taste of it will choke me."
Deborah submitted duly and consumed the tender morsel while she watched
Rachel break her fast.
"What said Atsu?" Rachel asked, after the marsh-hen was less apparent.
"Little, which is his way. But his every word was worth a harangue in weight. Merenra and his purple-wearing visitor, the spoiler, the pompous wolf, departed for Pithom last night, hastily summoned thither by a royal message. But the commander returns to-morrow at sunset. This morning, every tenth Hebrew in Pa-Ramesu is to be chosen and sent to the quarries. Atsu will send thee and me, whether we fall among the tens of a truth or not. So we get out of the city ere Merenra returns. He called the ruse a cruel one and not wholly safe, but he would sooner see thee dead than despoiled by this guest of Merenra's—or any other. I doubt not his heart breaketh for thy sake, Rachel, and he would rend himself to spare thee."
"The Lord God bless him," the girl murmured earnestly.
"Where dost thou say we go?" she asked after a little silence.
"To the quarries of Masaarah, opposite Memphis."
The color in the young Israelite's face receded a little.
"To the quarries," she repeated in a half-whisper.
"Fearest thou?"
"Nay, not for myself, at all, but we may not have another Atsu over us there. I fear for thee, Deborah."
The old woman waved her hands.
"Trouble not concerning me. I shall not die by heavy labor."
But the girl shook her head and gazed out of the low entrance of the tent. Her face was full of trouble. Once again the old woman looked at her with suspicion in her eyes. Presently the girl asked, coloring painfully:
"Was Atsu commanded to hold me for this guest of Merenra's—ah!" she broke off, "did Atsu name him?"
"Not by the titles by which the man would as lief be known," Deborah answered grimly, "but I remember he called him 'the governor.'"
There was a brief pause.
"Not so," she resumed, answering Rachel's first question. "Atsu but overheard him say to Merenra to see to it that thou wast taken from toil and made ready to journey with him to Bubastis."
"He can not take me by right save by a document of gift from the
Pharaoh," Rachel protested indignantly.
"Of a truth," the old woman admitted; "but Merenra is chief commander over Pa-Ramesu and how shall thine appeal to the Pharaoh pass beyond Merenra if he see fit to humor this ravening lord with a breach of the law? The message summoning him in haste to Pithom before the order could be fulfilled was all that saved thee. And if Merenra return ere thou art safely gone, thou art of a surety undone."
Rachel moved away a little and stood thinking. The old woman went on with a note of despondency in her voice.
"Alas, Rachel! thou art in eternal peril because of thy lovely face. Beauty is a curse to a bondwoman. What I beheld in truth yesterday I have seen in dreams—the discourteous hand put forth to seize thee and the power back of it to enforce its demand. And yet, I would not wish thee old and uncomely, for that, too, is a curse to the bondwoman," she added with a reflective shrug of the shoulders.
"If I but knew his name—" Rachel pondered aloud.
"What matter?" the old woman answered almost roughly. "Suffice it to know that he is a knave and a noble and hath evil in his heart against thee."
"Now, if I might dye my hair or stain my face—" Rachel began after a pause.
"Thou foolish child! It would not wear, nor hide thy charm at all!"
"But I dread the quarries for thee, Deborah. If only we might be hidden here, somewhere."
"Come, dost thou want to marry Atsu?" the old woman demanded harshly.
The girl turned toward her, her face flushed with resentment.
"Nay! And that thou knowest. For this very mingling with Egypt is Israel cursed. The idolatrous have reached out their hands in marriage and wedded the Hebrews away from the God of Abraham. When did an Egyptian desert his gods for the faith of the Hebrew he took in marriage? Not at any time. Therefore have we fed the shrines of the idols and increased the numbers of the idolaters and behold, the hosts of Jehovah have dwindled to naught. Therefore is He wroth with us, and justly. For are there not pitiful shrines to Ra, Ptah and Amen within the boundaries of Goshen? Nay, I wed not with an idolater," she concluded firmly.
Deborah's wrinkled face lighted and she put a tender arm about the girl.
"Of a truth, then, it is for me that thou wouldst avoid the quarries," she said. "I did but try thee, Rachel."
Rachel looked at her reproachfully, but the old woman smiled and drew her out into the open.
Without, Israel of Pa-Ramesu made ready to surrender a tenth of her number to the newest task laid on it by the Pharaoh. Quarrying was unusual labor for an Israelite and the name carried terror with it. Long had it meant heavy punishment for the malefactor and now was the Hebrew to take up its bitter life. The hard form of oppression following so closely upon the promise of liberty by Moses had diversified effects upon the camp. There was rebellion among the optimists, and the less hopeful spirits were crushed. There was the scoffer, who exasperates; the enthusiast, the over-buoyant, who could point out favorable omens even in this bitter affliction; and it could not be divined which of these troubled the people more. But whatever the individual temper, the entire camp was overhung with distress.
Israel had gathered in families before her tents—the mothers hovering their broods, the fathers tramping uneasily about them. In the heart of each, perhaps, was an indefinable conviction that he should fall among the tens. Since Israel had died in droves by hard labor in the brick-fields and along the roadways and canals, in what numbers and with what dire speed would not Israel perish in the dreaded stone-pits!
Just outside the doorway of their shelter, Deborah and Rachel overlooked the troubled