TAURUS, THE BULL
NCE upon a time there was a little girl named Tophra. She lived in Egypt, not far from the city Memphis,—a great and renowned city which King Menes had built long before on the dry bed of the river Nile, after turning it into a new channel.
King Menes must have been a very clever man, but he lived so extremely long ago that we will not trouble about him here. Tophra lived about two thousand years ago, and that is quite long enough.
In spite of the two thousand years, however, she was a real little girl.
She had an oval, olive-tinted face, with long, black eyes, and a rosy mouth which showed two rows of small white teeth when she laughed. She wore her straight black hair cut square across her forehead, and a band of ribbon around it—or sometimes, a garland of flowers. Her long, scant gown fell to her little brown feet, on which she wore gold and green shoes of the tinest size.
Tophra was just as fond of dolls as any little girl to-day. She had several, made of wood, whose arms and legs moved by pulling a string. The largest wore a dress of green silk, and Tophra carried it in her arms one beautiful summer day as she walked in her father's garden.
A tall black nurse walked beside her, carrying a scarlet umbrella to keep off the hot sun. It spread over the child's head like a great, full-blown poppy, and cast a glow over her pale blue gown.
Tophra's father who was named Techo, was one of the King's high officials. He was a rich man, and on his fine estate in the fertile Nile valley, he had wide gardens, besides artificial lakes, and stables for horses and cattle.
As Tophra walked between the beds of brilliant blossoms, Samis, the chief herdsman, approached her.
"Greeting, little lady!" he said with an obeisance. "Will not my little lady like to see the new bull-calf in the cow-house? 'T is the prettiest I ever saw, sleek as silk tissue and black as night."
Tophra clapped her hands.
"Bring it to me!" she cried impetuously.
But Samis shook his head.
"That may not well be, for it is too young yet to leave its mother. If my little mistress would see it, I will carry her on my shoulder to the cow-house. The stable-yard is too miry for those golden shoes."
Tophra liked Samis, with his good-natured black face, and was willing to mount on his broad shoulder. The nurse followed laughing and protesting, as he led the way, down the flower-walk, past the lotus-pond, where the pond lilies basked in the sun, each on its pad; then through a gate, and into the stable-yard.
The nurse exclaimed discontentedly as she drew her cotton skirts higher about her ankles, and picked her way across the muddy stones, but Tophra rode high and dry on the herdsman's shoulder, her small golden shoes sparkling in the sun, and Samis was used to treading anywhere on his bare feet.
"Behold!" he said proudly, as they entered the cow-house and stopped before the largest stall.
Tophra leaned forward to look.
There in the straw lay a beautiful white cow, and beside her, a tiny calf, black as jet but for a three-cornered white spot on its forehead.
"The finest bull-calf ever I saw," said Samis. "A prince of calves—a very Rameses of calves. Is not that a sight worth seeing?"
"Oh, how soft—how small!" cried the little girl. "Can I have him in my house to play with when he can leave his mother? Can I, Samis?"
"In the house indeed!" laughed Katuki, the nurse. "Scarcely can you, Tophra."
"But you can see him as often as you will," said Samis. "I will carry you on my shoulder as I do to-day."
"I want him to play with," repeated Tophra, "and I know my father will not say 'no'; he never refuses me what I want."
Which was quite true. Tophra was the only living child of a family of five, and her parents indulged her much.
"I want to pat you, little calf," she said now. " Hold me nearer, Samis."
The man held her over the stall, and she reached down her hand towards the little bull's head. As it hovered over his nose, he suddenly put out his pink tongue and licked it, at which Tophra quickly drew it back.
"There is nothing to be afraid of," said Samis, smiling. "It is a good omen. The calf likes you."
The first person who met the child and the nurse as they're-entered their house after the visit to the stable, was Techo.
Tophra dropped the jointed doll which she had been absently dragging by one foot since its charms had been eclipsed by those of the little bull, and running to him, clasped her arms about his knees.
The tall man stooped and raised her in his arms, by which means his stern, dark face and her round, soft one were brought upon a level. He kissed her again and again, until, gently pushing him away, she said,—
"Oh, my father! I have something to ask of you. Let me speak."
Techo seated himself upon a chair of inlaid wood, and placed her upon his knee.
"Say on, most powerful Princess. What is your will?"
She was too deeply in earnest to smile.
"Concerning the bull-calf," she said breathlessly,—"it is a beautiful calf, black as night, soft as my feast-day dress,—very small. Almost small enough to go to sleep in my kitten's bed. And its eyes are so large, father; as large as that!"
She brought her right thumb and forefinger into a circle.
"Wonderful!" said Techo, laughing.
"Also, he has a white spot on his forehead shaped—so." She stretched out the left forefinger, and brought the right forefinger and thumb against it so that they formed a "V."
"That is strange," said Techo in a new tone. He looked suddenly interested.
"Black—with the three-cornered white mark—the priest must see that," he murmured. Then he rose and set his little daughter upon her feet.
"Run to your play, dearest: I must go."
But Tophra clung to his robe.
"Father—I did not finish about the calf. I want it to play with."
"My child, I cannot tell whether or not I can give it to you till I have seen it."
She looked after his tall figure as he strode away, puzzled, the tears in her eyes.
"I want it for my own," she whispered,—"for my very own."
She did not see her father again that day, nor until the evening of the day after, when he came to bid her good-night.
"Father—where have you been all this time?" she cried, pulling him down to her as she lay on her little carved couch on the flat house-roof, where the Egyptians liked to sleep in hot weather, a painted awning on pillars above their heads.
"Your father has been very busy. What news do you think I have to tell you?"
"I do not know."
"Wonderful news. Will you guess it?"
"Is it about the black calf? " She sat up and twined her slender arms around him.
"It is about the black calf."
"He is to be mine to play with!" she laughed joyously.
Techo smiled gravely down upon her.
"Not that, little daughter. He is not as other calves—this creature. Tophra, do you remember the day when we all fasted and mourned because the Apis, the sacred bull Apis, was dead?"
Tophra nodded.
"All Memphis mourned," continued her father; "I saw the burial of the Apis. His immense coffin was drawn to its resting-place upon a sledge, and all the priests of Osiris followed him in garments of leopard-skin—garments of state. Do you know why they mourned so for him, little daughter?"
Tophra was not sure she knew. She had a vague notion that the bull Apis was holy, but why, she was not clear in her mind.
So Techo, putting an arm tenderly about her, and speaking as fathers and mothers do of high things it is good for their children to know, told her what the people of Egypt believed; that Osiris, the kind and beautiful Sun-God, had taken the earthly shape of a black bull, marked in a special way, and that "the Apis was this bull.
"And now, do you see what I am coming to?" he said.
"You mean—oh, fatheryou don't mean"
"I mean, little one, that the priests who have for months been seeking a new Apis, have found him at last, and that he is your black calf with the white mark on his forehead. I brought them to see him this morning, and after due examination they found, besides the white spot, two sorts of hair in his tail, and the form of an eagle upon his back, and a beetle-shaped lump under his tongue. He is Apis."
Tophra did not speak. She was afraid to say that the uppermost thought in her mind was sorrow because now the little calf could never be hers.
Techo easily guessed her thought.
"You must rejoice, little one, for now is Osiris again present with his children. And do not grieve because the black calf must go away. Some day you shall have another one for your own."
"Must this one go away?"
"He must go to the home of the sacred bulls so soon as he is old enough to leave his mother. He will be very happy there."
Tophra thoughtfully drew her little hand down her father's face as it bent to hers.
"I would have made him happy,—I also," she said with a sigh.
Techo kissed the small fingers as they played with his beard. He was sorry for her disappointment.
"He liked me, too; Samis said so. He licked my hand when I tried to pat him."
Techo was filled with delight, seeing in this incident the special sign of the favor of Osiris.
"Much are you honored—much shall the holy ones bless you," he said, laying the child back gently on her pillows. "Sleep, little Tophra, and wake refreshed."
Techo's was already a famous name in Memphis, but now all men crowded to do him reverence. He with whom Osiris was pleased to abide was a man worthy of all honor.
He made a great feast for his friends in honor of the discovery of Apis, and Tophra, watching from the roof, saw the arrival of his guests.
It was high noon when they began to appear—gentlemen in chariots with servants running beside them as they drove, and ladies reclining in palanquins borne by slaves.
In the banqueting room, the ladies sat at one end, the gentlemen at the other; and presently a band of music began to play while they waited for the dinner to be served.
As each guest sat down to table, servants anointed him or her with perfumed ointment, crowned them with flowers, and presented a lotus to be held in the hand.
As fast as the flowers drooped in the heat, fresh ones were brought.
Slaves, standing behind the chairs, cooled the air with feather fans.
In the midst of the festivity, a hush fell on all, as two slaves came through the room, bearing the painted mummy-case of one of the family, and set it upright at the table.
This curious custom was common with the Egyptians, and in no way spoiled their enjoyment as it might ours.
After the dinner was over. and the guests had left the board, a troop of swarthy jugglers poured in, and the twang of harps and lyres, the quick clash of tambourines and sweet fluting, began again.
Tophra wished that she were old enough to be with the company. It must be very amusing. She watched the grooms waiting in the sun-scorched courtyard, and saw the chariots and litters come by and by to take their-owners away, and then, being drowsy with the heat, she fell asleep with the jointed doll in her arms and the kitten curled up at her feet.
Every day she made Samis carry her to see the black calf. He grew larger and handsomer as the days passed. His tiny horns, which had looked like little knobs at first among the short curling hair of his forehead, grew longer, and his legs, which seemed weak and shaky at the beginning, were shapely, sturdy supports now. He could lash his sleek ebony sides with that slender tail, too, and after a while he could eat the food of grown-up cattle, and was pronounced old enough to leave his mother.
Then the priests fixed the day for his journey to Memphis, and every one prepared to see the procession, and to join in the rejoicings.
It was a real Egyptian day, with a burning sun and a sky of intense, cloudless blue. Not a breath stirred the palm leaves, and the shadows lay purple-black against the white glare.
Little Tophra, wistfully gazing from her roof-chamber, saw the long line of the procession wind up from her father's gates, out upon the road, under the palm trees, and away towards the city, a wavy line of black and yellow, the priests of Osiris in their robes of leopard-skin; and, in their midst, the young bull, walking solemnly, proudly, as though he felt himself the centre of attention.
Hundreds of people were gathered together at Memphis for the seven-days festival in honor of Apis. The city was full, and the sun shone on splendid dresses, rich uniforms, gold and silver and jewels, glancing arms, and gilded chariots.
Through the crowds paced the Apis with his escort. His large eyes wandered from side to side as the people pressed forward to greet him, but he showed no fear. On and on, on and on, till they reached the state home of the sacred bulls, where were spacious courts and walks, all his own, and where two stables stood with open doors awaiting his choice.
And now Apis paused, lashing his tail, snuffing the air, seeming to consider which he would enter.
And the people held their breath, no one speaking or moving, because they believed that if he chose one stable, good fortune would follow, while if he chose the other, war, pestilence, or famine was coming upon the land.
The young bull stood, with all those eager eyes upon him, calm and unmoved. Then, just as the strain grew painful, he turned his broad head towards the stable of happy omen, and with a quickening step entered its doors and was hid from sight.
There were glad and thankful hearts in Egypt that night. Osiris was again in a visible shape among his children.
There were to be rich harvests in the wide Nile valley, and health and prosperity and peace.
Only a child, lying on a carved bed under a painted ceiling, cried herself to sleep for a joy that was not to be hers—for a black calf that had grown to be a bull and gone away to the city of Apis, where he could never know how happy she would have made him with kisses and soft strokings and garlands of flowers.
And Apis himself? We cannot tell if he dreamed of Tophra and the white mother cow, as he lay in the stately stable, two thousand years ago.