THE FEAST OF CATS

     IT WAS STILL DARK in the shadows of the date palms and under the thick mud walls of the houses, but as Asenath and Bata emerged onto the raised road leading down to the river, they could perceive that dawn was at hand. By the time that Bata had taken off his clothes to plunge into the marshes for blue lotus flowers, the lazy quacking of half-awakened ducks was audible near the group of shelters that huddled around the landing place.
     It was cold for Asenath in her single thin garment as she caught the wet flowers Bata threw to her. She was shivering before he had rinsed off the mud and put on his clothes again. His best kilt, washed months ago when the river water ran clearest, was as white as a rich man's, even if a little coarser. Today he was wearing an upper garment twisted together over his chest and leaving free his brown arms, now glistening with water. A blue headcloth, a trifle faded, was drawn smoothly across his forehead and hung down on either side of his face, covering his hair.
      “We must hurry to the landing," Bata said as he settled the skin of beer over his shoulder, "We have to make our garlands before the sun comes up."
      Several people were already busy by the boat when Asenath and Bata reached the riverside. It was the market boat for the village, fairly big, but battered and dirty, even though for days the men had been trying to scrub her out. A new coat of paint could not be afforded, and the patched brown sail would have to do. However, on the high peaked prow stood a blue cat carved out of wood which had eyes of a glistening green stone with pupils of silver. Some daring souls had once stolen this from the prow of a rich man's boat at the festival. Since then the village had defended the blue cat against the envy of every settlement on the river as far down as the City of Cats.  I
      Asenath had tucked a lotus into her hair, and her hands were busy weaving garlands out of the flowers that were heaped on the landing by each new group as it came. The men hung the garlands over the sides of the rickety cabin on the deck and festooned the prow. Before the sun rose they had finished, and the women declared the boat prettier than last year.
     All now scrambled on board, disposing themselves on the rowing benches or the deck, and even climbing onto the roof of the unsteady little cabin to dangle their legs over the edge. One man took his stand by the great pole that ran through the stern to carry the rudder. Bata, with a lighter pole, watched by the prow for eddies and sandbanks. Two more men gave a good push from the bank before leaping on board. Over the eastern desert the rim of the sun came into view. They were off.
      The boat swept along in fine style as the rowers put their backs into their work and swung her into the current. All down the riverbank other boats were putting out, cheered on by hordes of little boys who danced on the landings, calling insults at the Blue Cat as she passed.
      Another boat that had seen better days came poling cautiously out of an irrigation canal to the accompaniment of whistling and yelling. The battered head of a crocodile with half the lower jaw missing reared itself from her prow, and traces of former splendor could be seen in the pillars of faded red which propped up the corners of her cabin. The crew of the Blue Cat burst into shouts as they came alongside, while the women swung their rattles made of loose beads strung on parallel wires. Asenath felt the cabin shake as one of the women on top leaped to her feet to gesture at the Crocodile.
      "Don't you even mend your old tub to visit the goddess?" she screamed through the din.
      A girl with a red necklace began a dance on the roof of the Crocodile, kicking up her legs in a professional fashion and bending her body so far back that at times her hands were almost on the ground. A tall, lean man standing with his pole at the bow turned to shout at the two helmsmen, who were so deafened by the whistles and the clashing of cymbals that they paid no heed. The lean man jabbed desperately at a swirl in the water, swinging the Crocodile away from it across the bow of the Blue Cat. Bata, leaping to the rail, thrust his pole at the oncoming boat and pushed furiously. There was a moment of struggling and shouting as the oars of the rowers interlocked. The Crocodile swayed slowly outward and crashed onto the sandbank the lean poleman had been trying to avoid. The dancer sat down with a bump on the roof, and the Blue Cat's crew burst into derisive cheering. The lean man on the Crocodile lifted his arm and threw his pole at Bata with all his might.
      The crew of the Blue Cat ducked hastily, and a sudden silence fell as the pole crashed against the cabin and fell clattering to the deck.
      "You -- Bata! " screamed the Crocodile's poleman.
      The Blue Cat burst out into cheers and yells, and those on the roof struck up a song. Asenath went over to Bata, who still stood by the prow.
      "That fellow threatened you," she said in his ear. Bata laughed.
      "Those Crocodiles!" he said, putting an arm around her. "Don't worry! We know about them. We had a fight with them last year."
      The river was beginning to fill up with boats going down to the festival. The Blue Cat was overtaken by a gay little barge brightly painted and picked out with gilding. Under a light awning supported by pillars sat two rich men, feet close together and hands on their laps. They wore elaborate wigs with stiff rows of curls, and their wide collars were brilliant with gold and enamel. Beyond the barge was a fat old trading vessel with black-bearded Syrians on deck and Nubian slaves handling the poles. Another village boat was drifting downstream while the rowers changed over and the crew refreshed itself from a skin of beer.
      "I never knew there were so many boats on the river," said Asenath after vainly trying to count the little fishing craft of tarred reeds which were swarming out of the marshes and from the irrigation canals.
      Bata lay stretched on the deck beside her, cooling off in the shade. He jumped up to wave a mocking hand at the Crocodile, which was appearing around a bend about a quarter of a mile back. "Wait till we get down to Per-Bastet," he said to Asenath over his shoulder. "This is not even a tenth of the boats you will see when we arrive."

      Per-Bastet was black with boats, blue with lotus garlands, and white with people. Long before the river had parted to run around the sacred island that lay in the middle of the town, the Blue Cat's crew was edging slowly through crowds of boats looking for a landing. Crews were standing up, clashing cymbals, singing, and yelling. Big boats were pushing smaller ones aside. Fishermen were fighting with poles for a place at the bank, so that now and then someone or other splashed headlong into the stream.
      The Blue Cat finally nosed into the bank by the meadows above the town, and its crew plunged ashore into a scene of still wilder confusion.
      "Lucky Charms! " 
      "Figs and melons! " yelled the hucksters.
      "Offerings for the sacred cats! "
      "Spare a poor blind man an offering for the festival!"
      "See the magician change sticks into serpents! The marvel of the age! "
      Asenath turned out of curiosity, but Bata pulled her past. "If we give what we have to the magician," he reminded her sternly, "how can we spend at the temple as we have planned? In the first month of our marriage, it is well to buy a blessing."
      "Mats! yelled the voices, "Mats to make shelters against the cold!
      "These can wait until the evening," said Bata.  “If we leave them here, they will be stolen, and we cannot carry them all day. Come on to the city, so that we may offer our gifts while they are fresh."
      "Wait!" Asenath grasped him by the elbow. "Let these two go by." She pointed at the man from the Crocodile and the dancing girl with red beads, who were pushing through the outskirts of the crowd around the magician.
      "They don't matter," said Bata confidently. "Come on!"
      For the rest of her life Asenath found cats a symbol of Per-Bastet and of everything that she and Bata did or saw at the festival there. Yellow cats brought back a memory of the wide avenue leading downward to the river, of the tree-shaded temple on the island, like a bright coin in the center of a bowl. Brindled cats with torn ears represented the narrow alleys where the flimsy shacks of the poor huddled together, and where life went on around open drains in the middle of the street. White cats haunted the temple gateway with its flagpoles and the shady forecourts, where the crowd shouted and bargained with hucksters. Cats swarmed purring around the long tables of offerings, rubbing themselves against the legs of the hairless priests,
      It was cheaper to bring presents than to buy them. Bata unwrapped six fish caught in the Nile and kept fresh in wet green leaves during the journey down. Asenath had baked cakes, a little plain to be sure, since she had no colored sugar to ornament them. Still, she had shaped them like fish, mice, and cats for the pleasure of the goddess, who would appreciate the skill of a housewife, even where the ingredients were few.
      Bata drew her over to a corner and began haggling with a vendor for a figure of the cat-headed goddess, brightly painted and fitted with a hole in the top through which the man obligingly ran a small string.
      "Put it round the bride's neck," he said encouragingly to Bata, winking one of his red-rimmed eyes in a knowing fashion. "Seven sons will the figure of Bast bring to the pretty one if I have any skill with signs. Your copper back in ten years, pretty lady, and a good silver ring in addition if you cannot come into the temple with seven fine sons by your side."
      "Perhaps –“ began Asenath, smiling, but the seller of charms had already lost interest in her.
      "Lucky figures! Blessings to the bride! This way, pretty lady!" He darted out into the courtyard to seize a young pair hurrying by.
      "Save your breath for the seven sons," advised Bata, laughing as he urged Asenath toward the columned halls of the temple itself.
      Here too were cats of white, ocher or black, in the paintings that glowed on the dim walls in rich contrast to the glaring sunlight without. Here Pharaoh, in his golden headdress with the hooded snake on his forehead, was to be seen presenting offerings or being blessed. Behind him stood his wife and attendants, painted smaller out of respect for his greatness. The goddess Bast, on a golden throne, received his sacrifice, her cat head drawn in profile, and her body clad in a single tight garment like that which Asenath wore. Elsewhere Bast appeared again with other gods, hawkheaded and jackal-headed, regarding Pharaoh as he busied himself with his various activities on earth.
      Asenath and Bata marveled at the vast columns of the temple, gazing with awe at the huge stone capitals picked out with red and blue. They puzzled over the painted inscriptions on the walls, in which words were represented by pictures of eyes, arms, birds, and other symbols, so beautifully executed that the writing was a pleasure even to those who could not read,
      "The shrine of the goddess is closed today," said Bata. "Tomorrow when the image comes out, there will be a great procession."

      In all the courts of the city as the sun grew low, fires began to glow in the roasting pits, and two or three fat geese at a time twirled on the spits, dropping sizzling grease on the embers. For a small copper ring, the cooks would carve you a leg, or a wing and a great fat slice of breast, and would give you a deep draught of beer from the jar that stood ready beside them. All along the walls of the rich men's gardens blazed lamps with little wicks floating in oil. The wide avenue leading down to the temple was lighted in this way from end to end. People were calling their wares along it, while men and women were dancing to the sound of pipes.
      All the cats seemed black at night in Per-Bastet. Later still, when Asenath lay by her husband in a small reed shelter out on the meadow, the cats were only howling voices in the distance, no longer any color at all.
      The second day of the feast started slowly. Everyone was tired with past pleasures and was in a mood for something new. All the Blue Cats had to meet in their corner of the meadow, exchange experiences, or display purchases. As they agreed, there was no need to hasten back to the city before the goddess came forth from her shrine.
      "Be careful about the Crocodile fellow, Bata," added one of the men, getting up to go down to the river and plunge his head into the stream. "He was roaring up and down the avenue last night, as drunk as could be, looking for you. He has not forgotten how you made him give up the booty he stole from our shelter last year."
      "He'll have a headache this morning," laughed Bata, "and leave me alone."
      On this second day of the festival, the great avenue was jammed with people as the goddess Bast moved out of her temple to bestow her yearly blessing on the earth. Before her went trumpeters and hosts of temple musicians with rattles and castanets. After these a crowd of devotees came tumbling and howling, beating each other with clubs until blood flowed, though not much considering the noise that they made. Negro dwarfs and dancing jesters capered behind them, followed by priestesses, flute players, fanbearers, and finally the boat of the goddess herself.
      The image of Bast moved about her city in a cedarwood boat borne on the shoulders of priests. On it was a cabin with silver pillars in which Bast sat, protected by very fine curtains from the sun and the breath of the mob. White cats on the deck before and behind her were chained with bright ribbons fastened to collars of silver and looked out over the heads of the multitude with half-closed, arrogant eyes.
      The populace set up a roar at the sight of the goddess and surged forward, lifting their arms and leaping in frenzied applause. The temple guards walking with the procession began to push and struggle to keep clear a path.
      Bata felt a fierce blow on his back and staggered forward, hearing Asenath scream over the din. He crashed full into a guard, who swayed backward into the bearers so that the whole boat rocked, and for a moment it seemed as though the image would be upset. The cats leaped to their feet, and one, tearing loose from the ribbon that held her, jumped down into the midst of the crowd.
     The people nearest the goddess screamed, and with good reason, for the temple guards had clubs and began to use them, yelling to the multitude to fall back. The commotion, however, impelled those behind to press forward, so that here and there a woman fell and was trampled, while the horses of the charioteers behind the goddess began to plunge.
      Bata fought his way through the crowd, his headcloth wrenched off after a nasty crack on his forehead from one of the guards. "Asenath," he yelled, struggling wildly. "Asenath!" But Asenath was not to be found.
      Asenath had screamed as Bata staggered forward, and she cried out again when the crowd began to push and sway. "This way," said a voice in her car as the mass of people yielded slightly behind her, and she felt herself jerked violently backward against the chest of the Crocodile man.
      "Little fool!" he said roughly in her ear as she resisted. "Do you want to be trampled?" Indeed, at that moment Asenath lost her footing and only saved herself by clutching at his elbow. "This way," he commanded again, driving a furious fist into the stomach of a fat man pushing behind him. They struggled a few steps farther. Asenath's breath was coming in gasps, and she swayed as the crowd swayed, unable so much as to lift up an arm.
      "Bata?" she cried the moment she found her mouth close to the lean man's ear.
      "Over there!" he yelled nodding. "Catch him when he gets out." He began to work with fists and elbows, and Asenath tried to follow him.
      They came out on the edge of the crowd, disheveled and panting. "Over there!" said the lean man again, pointing to a swirl in the crowd. He took Asenath by the wrist and began to hurry her down the street, keeping close to the walls, where the struggling crowd had thinned out.
      "Where is Bata?" cried Asenath, resisting furiously. The Crocodile man stopped by the mouth of an alley, where there was some slight breathing space.
      "See him?" he inquired, pointing. Asenath turned away to look. With a fierce jerk the tall man pulled her into the alley and hustled her off down the street.
      In the dirtiest little lanes of the poor quarter, the shacks lay huddled so closely that a man might easily touch both sides of a street at once with his hands. The naked children who played in the dust here took no notice of Asenath, and the blear-eyed old people in the doorways had learned long ago to mind their own business if anyone screamed. Except for the children and old folk, the quarter was empty, every man and woman being out on the streets during festival time, when stealing was brisk.
      The lean man turned into the courtyard of what had perhaps once been an inn, but was now little more than a heap of tumbledown bricks. On one side a doorway gaped, and a roasting pit, blackened and smoking, showed that people not only lived here but on feast days had something to cook.
      "In there," he said, setting Asenath down and giving her a push. "Sit down and stop yelling." He slapped her in the face as she opened her mouth, and drove her into a corner where a few old mats, somebody's bedding, were strewn on the earthen floor.
      "That is enough to keep her quiet for a while," protested the girl with the red beads, getting up from the corner to give Asenath room. "What do you want to do with the girl?
      "There's a trader I know in town for the festival," answered he, straightening up and panting, "who'll sell her upriver in Thebes, and no questions asked. I owe that much to Bata on account of last year."
      The girl bent down to take Asenath's hands away from her face as if to examine her. In doing so, she turned her back on the lean man for an instant. "Wait!" she indicated silently with her lips to Asenath, whose terrified eyes were staring at her wildly. "Wait!"
      Asenath answered with a gulp that was almost a gasp, and the girl straightened up hurriedly before the lean man could become too curious, "Pretty enough," she pronounced aloud. "Have you talked to this trader?"
     "I saw my chance and I took her," complained the lean man, dabbing at his face. "Do you think I foresaw this? I know where this fellow sleeps in the town, and I'll find him before morning."
      "Go fetch some water and wash off your face where she scratched it," said the girl impatiently. "Before morning? And my uncle, whose house you have borrowed for this traffic of yours, will he stay out all night?"
      The man picked up a jar. "I'll find the trader this afternoon somehow," he promised carelessly. "She cannot be moved until it is dark." He lounged away.
      "Quick!" said the girl, turning sharply to Asenath. "Do you have any token I can send to the crew of the Blue Cat? Stop crying and answer."
      "Let me go!"
      The girl laughed contemptuously. "In broad daylight through the thieves' quarter? You would not get past three doors. This figure of Bast around your neck ~ do they know it? Where will they be?"
      "In the meadow where the ropewalkers and the tumblers are to perform."
      "Good. Lie still and be silent, as you value your life."
      "What are you doing?" demanded the lean man, stooping to re-enter the door.
      "She was begging me to let her go," drawled the girl casually. "Tie her up while I go to my cousin's for some food to pass the time until dark."

      The longest afternoon of Asenath's life wore away slowly to the sound of distant music and the cries of children outside in the street. Once or twice she heard footsteps and a mumble of speech in the courtyard. Her heart bounded with hope, and dropped back with a sickening bump as no one came. Twice the girl entered with water, and Asenath drank greedily, for the heat in the little cabin was stifling as the sun poured down on the roof.
      "Did you find the Blue Cats?" she said eagerly, but the girl only gestured for silence with an anxious look at the door.
      At last when it was dark in the cabin, and objects seen through the doorway had melted into a shapeless gray blur, the dancing girl came in for the third time and busied herself for a moment in another corner of the room. Presently a small wick stuck in a dish of suet began to burn with a pale, evil-smelling flame. The girl brought it over to Asenath's side and began sawing at her bonds with a knife.
      "I sent your token to the Blue Cat's men," she said in a hasty whisper, putting her mouth close to Asenath's ear. "But I dared not tell them to come to this quarter or betray my uncle's house. They are to meet us after dark where the great avenue runs by the Nile. Can you walk?"
Asenath tried to stand up, but fell back. With an impatient sound the girl put down her lamp again and bent to massage the blood back into Asenath's feet. Asenath leaned forward to help her, and the heads of the two nearly met.
      "What is the matter?" asked the dancing girl sharply.
      "My feet hurt," said Asenath feebly, and she bent forward again.
      She could not be mistaken in the lamplight. The dancing girl had a string around her neck under the red beads, the very same string that the red-eyed vendor had threaded through the image of Bast. Asenath could even see the outline of the little figure thrust into the top of the dancing girl's dress.
      "Water!" she muttered to gain time,
      If no token had gone down to the Blue Cat, then no one would be waiting on the avenue by the edge of the Nile. Could the dancing girl merely have thought it easier to lead Asenath down to the river by the hand than to carry her swathed up like a mummy and bundled in old reed mats? On a festival night men did not carry burdens, and any party of jolly souls might interfere with such work being done. Asenath drank slowly, but her mind was racing.
      "She will grip me tight by the wrist," she decided, "if she plans to betray me. If not, she would surely say, 'Hold onto me.’”
      A strong grip fastened on her wrist as the thought went through her mind. "Come on!" said the dancing girl, blowing out the lamp before rising. "In case we need it, I have a knife in my other hand."
      The narrow alleyway was perfectly dark, save that a few doorways were lighted by a feeble flame from inside. The dancing girl slid very quietly past these, pressing close against the opposite wall. Asenath followed obediently, straining her ears, for it had occurred to her with a sudden shock that the man must be near them to see that all went well. She heard nothing at all, but one time, glancing behind her, she saw a dark shape steal past one of the doorways. She gasped softly with sickening fear, and the girl jerked impatiently at her arm.  
      Her best plan was to dart down a cross street, but these came unexpectedly in the darkness and were always accompanied by a tightening of the grip on her wrist. She felt desperately along the walls for a weapon, but her hand lighted on nothing more satisfactory than a rotten rope hanging loose from the thatch.
      The music and the shouting were louder now, and lights flickered in the distance. They avoided two men coming noisily homeward by ducking into a side street until they had passed.
      Now or never, thought Asenath desperately, thinking of the knife.
      The men lumbered past, and the dancing girl darted out again into the roadway, in a hurry perhaps to keep her distance from the following man. There was a fierce miauling as something moved under her feet. She tripped. On the instant, Asenath wrenched herself free and fled desperately into the dark.
      She had the wit to turn away from the lights and music, and to pause and listen before she was too much out of breath. In a small shack beside her, someone was snoring. Asenath crept in through the door and held her breath as she heard feet approach. They halted outside and people muttered. The voice of the lean man rose in angry protest.  By Asenath's side, the sleeper turned over and raised himself on his elbow to shout a complaint, while she stood like a stone.
      Long after the footsteps outside had moved on, the man beside her kept drowsily muttering, seeming just as likely to wake up as to sink back to sleep. Asenath had to hold her breath back and let it out slowly, trying not to quiver with the desperate pounding of her heart. When at last the snoring recommenced, she had to listen through it for the slightest sound of movement in the street outside. Inch by inch she crept into the doorway and put a cautious foot into the street.
      People were beginning to come home, and she was forced to make countless confusing detours to avoid them. Once she was fairly trapped between two groups and darted into a courtyard. Inside, as soon as she put a hand on the brickwork, she knew where she was. There was a light in the cabin where she had lain that afternoon, and she could hear someone moving. She crouched down beside a pile of rubbish, praying that if anybody looked out, her white dress would not betray her in the dark.
      A low mutter testified that one of the groups in the alley had reached the wall. To her horror, the people stopped full in the gateway. In another moment they might be coming in.
      It was too late to move from the rubbish heap, which afforded concealment from a casual glance out from the cabin but none from the gate. "There she is! " cried the triumphant voice of the dancing girl from the gateway. Asenath screamed.
      There was a loud shout from the alleyway and a stumbling of men in a hurry. Asenath cried out again with all her might, kicked at the lean man as he caught her, and struck out at his face. "Asenath! Asenath' " called a voice outside.
      "In here! In here!" she screamed with desperation,
      There was a fierce rush through the gateway. Asenath, receiving a last box on the ear from the lean man, staggered and fell. Someone tripped over her, came down across her, recovered, and hurled himself into the fray. The dancing girl in her turn began to shout. More people rushed in through the gateway, some of them armed with bludgeons, and others with knives. 

      "Blue Cats this way!'' cried Bata's voice beside her. "Can you walk, Asenath? We shall have to be as quick as we can." He put an arm around Asenath's waist and lifted her, beginning to move toward the gateway as the Blue Cats fell in alongside. "Now, all together!" he cried as they rushed for the gateway. In another moment Asenath found herself half pushed, half carried down the alley, with the music and the lights growing clearer ahead of her and the threatening shouts of her pursuers closer behind.
      As long as there was fighting with the rear guard, Asenath's strength sufficed to keep her on her feet. When, however, they approached the lighted avenue, the shouts behind them died as the lean man and his friends thought it more prudent to desist. Suddenly Asenath was shaking with sobs and could do nothing but cling to Bata in a storm of crying. Stopping, he lifted her in both his arms and bore her into the light.
      "How did you find me?" she asked Bata at last, as they laid her in the cabin of the Blue Cat, while the men quietly unshipped the oars and the women took down the faded garlands. "Someone saw you with that devil in the crowd," said Bata, "and we knew that he had friends in the thieves' quarter from the time when we fought him last year."
      "If that girl had not tripped on a cat," said Asenath, clinging to him tightly, "I should have been gone from the courtyard long before you came."
      “It was Bast who saved you," said Bata comfortingly. "Her protection is powerful for brides, and she remembered our offering. You shall yet bring your seven sons to make her a sacrifice."
      "Not to Per-Bastet," said Asenath, trembling. "I have seen enough of the City of Cats."