The treasurer inclined to the pavement.
“Thou, scribe, wilt write and command to-morrow to herald forth in the streets of provincial capitals that barbarians of the western desert are advancing in great force to attack the province of Fayum. Thou, Kalippos, wilt despatch four Greek regiments southward. Two of these will halt at the labyrinth, two will push on to Hanes. If troops of the priests go from Thebes ye will drive them back and not let them approach Fayum. If people are indignant at the priests and threaten the labyrinth, thy Greeks will occupy the edifice.”
“But if the overseers of the labyrinth refuse?” inquired Kalippos.
“That would be rebellion,” answered the pharaoh, and continued,—
“Thou, Tutmosis, wilt send three regiments to Memphis and post them near the temples of Ptah, Isis, and Horus. If the enraged people wish to storm the temples the commanders of the regiments will open the gates to themselves, will not admit common men to the holy places, and will guarantee the persons of the high priests from insult. There will be priests in the labyrinth and in the temples of Memphis, who will come forth to the army with green branches. The commanders of regiments will ask those men for the password and will counsel with them.”
“But if they resist?” inquired Tutmosis.
“Only rebels would refuse to obey commanders of the pharaoh,” answered Rameses. “The temples and the labyrinth must be occupied by troops on the 23d of Paofi,” continued the pharaoh, turning to the chief scribe. “The people both in Memphis and Fayum may begin to assemble on the 18th, at first in small groups, then in increasing numbers. But if slight disturbances begin about the 20th, they are not to be prevented. The people are to storm the temples not earlier than the 22d and 23d. And when troops occupy those points all must be quieted.”
“Would it not be better to imprison Herhor and Mefres at once?” inquired Tutmosis.
“What for? I am not concerned about them, but the labyrinth and the temples, for the occupation of which troops arenot ready yet. Besides, Hiram, who intercepted Herhor’s letters to the Assyrians will return no sooner than the 20th. So only on the 21st of Paofi shall we have proofs in our hands that the high priests are traitors, and we shall announce their treason in public.”
“Then am I to go to Fayum?” inquired Kalippos.
“Oh, no! Thou and Tutmosis will remain near me with chosen regiments. We must have reserves in case the priests draw away a part of the people.”
“Art thou not afraid of treason, lord?” asked Tutmosis.
The pharaoh waved his hand with indifference. “Treason is always leaking out like water from a swollen barrel. It will be difficult for the high priests to divine my plans, while I know what they wish. But as I have anticipated them in collecting forces they will be weaker. Regiments are not formed in a few days.”
“But enchantments?” inquired Tutmosis.
“There are no enchantments which an axe will not shatter,” said Rameses, laughing.
Tutmosis wished at that moment to mention the tricks of the high priests with Lykon, but he was restrained by the thought that his lord would be very angry and lose calmness, through which he was powerful on that day. A chief before battle can think of nothing but action, and there would be time enough for Lykon’s case when the priests were in prison.
At a sign from his holiness Tutmosis remained in the chamber, but the three other dignitaries made low obeisances and vanished.
“At last!” sighed the chief scribe, when he found himself with the treasurer in the antechamber, “at last the power of the shaven heads is ending.”
“Indeed it is time,” said the treasurer. “During the last ten years any prophet had more power than the nomarch of Thebes or of Memphis.”
“I think that Herhor is preparing in secret a boat in which to flee before the 23d of Paofi,” put in Kalippos.
“What will be done to Herhor?” said the scribe. “His holiness, who is terrible to-day, will forgive him when he is obedient.”
“And even leave him his property at the intercession of Queen Nikotris,” said the treasurer. “At all events there will be order in the state, which for some time has been lacking.”
“But it seems to me that his holiness is making too great preparations,” said the scribe. “I should finish all with the Greek regiments, and not employ the people.”
“He is young; he likes noise and uproar,” added the treasurer.
“How clear it is that ye are not warriors,” said Kalippos. “When it comes to battle we must concentrate all the forces, for surprises are sure to happen.”
“They would happen if we had not the people behind us,” said the scribe. “But what unexpected thing can happen? The gods will not come down to defend the labyrinth.”
“Such is thy speech, worthiness, for thou art at rest,” answered Kalippos; “thou knowest that the supreme chief is watching and is trying to foresee everything; if that were not the case thy skin might creep.”
“I see no surprises,” contended the scribe, “unless the high priests are spreading reports again that the pharaoh is demented.”
“They will try various tricks,” added the treasurer, yawning; “but in fact they have not strength enough. In every case I thank the gods who put me in the pharaoh’s camp. Well, let us go to sleep.”
After the dignitaries had left the chamber of the pharaoh, Tutmosis opened a secret door in one of the walls, and led in Samentu. Rameses received the high priest of Set with great pleasure; he gave him his hand to kiss, and pressed his head.
“Peace be with thee, good servant,” said the sovereign. “What dost thou bring me?”
“I have been twice in the labyrinth,” replied the priest.
“And dost thou know the way now?”
“I knew it before, but this time I have made a new discovery: the treasure chamber may sink, people may be lost, and jewels be destroyed which are of the greatest value.”
The pharaoh frowned.
“Therefore,” continued Samentu, “be pleased, holiness, tohave ready some tens of reliable men. With them I will enter the labyrinth on the night before the storm, and seize the chambers adjoining the treasury, especially the upper ones.”
“Canst thou lead in men?”
“Yes. Though I will go alone again to the labyrinth, and see absolutely whether we may not avert destruction unaided. Even the most faithful men are uncertain, and to introduce them at night might rouse the attention of those watchdogs.”
“Are they not following thee now?” asked the pharaoh.
“Believe me, lord,” answered the priest, placing his hand on his breast, “a miracle would be needed to follow me. Their blindness is almost childlike. They feel that some one wants to invade the labyrinth, but the fools have doubled the guard at the ordinary gateways. Meanwhile, in the course of a month I have discovered three hidden entrances, these they have forgotten, or perhaps they know nothing about them. Only some spirit could warn those guardians that I traverse the labyrinth, or indicate the room in which I may find myself. Among three thousand chambers and corridors this is impossible.”
“The worthy Samentu speaks truth,” said Tutmosis. “And perhaps we employ too much keenness against these priestly reptiles.”
“Do not say that,” replied the priest. “Their strength, as compared with that of his holiness, is as a handful of sand in comparison with a temple, but Herhor and Mefres are very wise, and they may use weapons against us and means before which we shall be dumb with amazement. Our temples are full of secrets which will arrest even sages, and bring down to the dust the courage of the multitude.”
“Wilt thou tell us something of that?” inquired the pharaoh.
“I will say first that the warriors of your holiness will meet with wonders in the temples. In one chamber torches will quench in their hands, in another, flames and disgusting monsters will surround them. In one place a wall will stop the way, or a gulf will open before their feet. In some corridors water will cover them, in others invisible hands will throwstones at them. And such thunders, such voices will be heard round about.”
“In every temple I have partisans among the younger priests, and thou wilt be in the labyrinth—” said the pharaoh.
“But our axes?” said Tutmosis. “He is a poor soldier who draws back before flames or frightful pictures, or who loses time listening to mysterious voices.”
“Thou speakest well, chief,” cried Samentu. “If ye go ahead valiantly, terrors will vanish, voices cease, and flames burn no longer. Now my last word, lord,” said the priest, turning to Rameses. “If I perish—”
“Do not speak thus,” interrupted the pharaoh quickly.
“A young priest of Set will come to thee, holiness, with my ring. Let the army occupy the labyrinth and expel the overseers, and let them not leave the building, for that young priest in the course of a month, perhaps, or even earlier, will find the way to the treasures with the indications which I will leave him. But, lord,” continued Samentu kneeling down, “I implore thee for one thing: when thou shalt conquer, avenge me, and above all, pardon not Mefres and Herhor. Thou knowest not what enemies they are. If they win, thou wilt perish, not only thou, but the dynasty.”
“But does not magnanimity become a victor?” inquired the pharaoh gloomily.
“No magnanimity! No favor!” cried Samentu. “As long as they live we are threatened, thou and I, with death, with shame, even with insult to our corpses. It is possible to fondle a lion, to buy a Phœnician, to win the attachment of a Libyan and an Ethiopian. It is possible to win favor from a Chaldean priest, for he, like an eagle, soars above heights and is safe from missiles. But an Egyptian prophet who has tried power and luxury thou wilt win with nothing, only his death or thine can end the conflict.”
“Samentu speaks truth,” said Tutmosis. “Happily not his holiness, but we, the warriors, will decide the ancient struggle between the priests and the pharaoh.”
ON Paofi 12 alarming news went forth from various Egyptian temples. During a few preceding days an altar was overturned in the temple of Horus; in the temple of Isis a statue of the goddess shed tears. In the temple of Amon at Thebes, and from the tomb of Osiris in Dendera, omens of much evil were given. The priests inferred from infallible signs that some dreadful misfortune would threaten Egypt before the month had ended. Hence Herhor and Mefres, the high priests, commanded processions around the temples and sacrifice in houses.
On Paofi 13 there was a great procession in Memphis: the god Ptah issued from his temple, and the goddess Isis from hers. Both divinities moved toward the centre of the city with a very small assembly of believers, mainly women. But they were forced to withdraw, for Egyptians reviled them and foreigners went so far as to hurl stones at the sacred boats of the divinities.
In presence of these abuses the police bore themselves with indifference, some of them even took part in unseemly jests. During the afternoon unknown persons told the crowd that the priests would not permit relief to be given the people and desired a rebellion against the pharaoh.
Toward evening laborers gathered in crowds at the temples, where they hissed the priests and abused them. Meanwhile stones were hurled at the gate, and some criminals openly beat off the nose of Horus who was on guard at his own entrance.
A couple of hours after sunset the high priests and their most faithful adherents assembled in the temple of Ptah. The worthy Herhor was there; so were Mefres, Mentezufis, three nomarchs, and the highest judge.
“Terrible times!” said the judge. “I know to a certainty that the pharaoh wishes to rouse a rabble to attack temples.”
“I have heard,” said the nomarch of Sebes, “that an order has been sent to Nitager to hurry at the earliest with new troops, as if those here were insufficient.”
“Communication between Upper and Lower Egypt is interrupted since yesterday,” added the nomarch of Aa. “On the roads are posted troops, and the galleys of his holiness examine every barge sailing on the river.”
“Rameses XIII. is not ‘holiness,’” said Mefres, dryly, “for he has not received a crown from the gods yet.”
“All this would be a trifle,” said the judge. “Treason is worse. We have indications that many of the younger priests are favorable to the pharaoh and inform him of everything.”
“There are some even who have undertaken to facilitate the occupation of the temples by troops,” added Herhor.
“Are troops to enter the temples?” exclaimed the nomarch of Sebes.
“They have such an order at least for the 23d,” replied Herhor.
“And dost thou speak of this, worthiness, quietly?” inquired the nomarch of Ament.
Herhor shrugged his shoulders, while the nomarchs exchanged glances.
“I do not understand this,” said the nomarch of Aa, almost in anger. “There are barely a few hundred warriors at the temples, some priests are traitors, the pharaoh cuts us off from Thebes and is rousing the people, while the worthy Herhor speaks as though we were invited to a banquet. Either let us defend ourselves, if that be still possible, or—”
“Shall we yield to ‘his holiness?’” inquired Mefres, with irony.
“We shall have time for that always!”
“But we should like to learn about means of defence,” said the nomarch of Sebes.
“The gods will save those who are faithful to them,” answered Herhor.
The nomarch of Aa wrung his hands.
“If I am to open my heart, I must say that I too am astonished at thy indifference,” said the judge. “Almost all the people are against us.”
“The common people are like barley in the field, they incline with the wind.”
“But the army?”
“What army will not fall before Osiris?”
“I know,” replied the nomarch of Aa, with impatience, “but I see neither Osiris nor that wind which is to turn the people toward us. Meanwhile, the pharaoh has attached them by promises, and he will appear with gifts to-morrow.”
“Fear is stronger than promises and gifts,” replied Herhor.
“What have they to fear? Those three hundred soldiers of ours?”
“They will fear Osiris.”
“But where is he?” asked the indignant nomarch of Aa.
“Ye will see him. But happy the man who will be blind on that day.”
Herhor spoke with such calm solemnity that silence settled on the assembly.
“But what shall we do?” asked the judge after a while.
“The pharaoh,” said Herhor, “wishes the people to attack the temple on the 23d. We must make them attack us on the 20th of Paofi.”
“The gods live through eternity!” cried the nomarch of Aa, raising his hands. “But why should we bring misfortune on our heads, and besides two days earlier?”
“Listen to Herhor,” said Mefres with a voice of decision; “try by all means that the attack be made on the morning of the 20th.”
“But if they beat us in fact?” inquired the judge in confusion.
“If Herhor’s spells fail I will call the gods to assist us,” replied Mefres, and in his eyes was an ominous glitter.
“Ah, ye high priests have secrets which ye may not explain to us. We will do what ye command; we will cause the attack on the 20th. But remember, on your heads be our blood and the blood of our children.”
“So be it! So be it!” cried both high priests together.
Then Herhor added: “For ten years we have governed the state, and during that time no wrong has happened to any of you, and we have kept every promise; so be patient and faithful for a few days. Ye will see the might of the gods and receive your reward.”
The nomarchs took farewell of the high priests, not tryingeven to hide their own grief and alarm. Only Herhor and Mefres remained. After a long silence Herhor said,—
“Yes, that Lykon was good as long as he counterfeited the maniac. But that it should be possible to show him instead of Rameses—”
“If the mother did not detect him,” answered Mefres, “the man must resemble Rameses remarkably. As to sitting on the throne and saying a few words to those present, he will do that. Moreover, we shall be there.”
“A terribly stupid comedian!” sighed Herhor, rubbing his forehead.
“He is wiser than millions of other men, for he has second sight and he may render the state immense service.”
“Thou art speaking continually, worthiness, of that second sight. Let me convince myself of it certainly.”
“Dost thou wish to do so?” inquired Mefres. “Well, come with me. But by the gods, Herhor, mention not, even before thy own heart, what thou shalt witness.”
They went beneath the temple of Ptah and entered a large vault where a lamp was then gleaming. By the feeble light Herhor saw a man sitting at a table; he was eating. The man wore a coat of the pharaoh’s guardsmen.
“Lykon,” said Mefres, “the highest dignitary of the state wishes evidence of those powers with which the gods have gifted thee.”
“Cursed be the day in which the soles of my feet touched your land!” muttered Lykon, pushing away a plate with food on it. “I should rather labor in the quarries, and be beaten—”
“There will be time for that always,” interrupted Herhor, severely.
The Greek was silent, and trembled suddenly when he saw a dark crystal globe in the hand of Mefres. He grew pale, his sight became dim, large drops of sweat came out on his face. His eyes were fixed on one point, as if fastened to that ball of crystal.
“He is sleeping,” said Mefres. “Is this not wonderful?”
“If he is not feigning.”
“Punch him, stick him, burn him even,” said Mefres.
Herhor drew from under his white robe a dagger and pointedit as if to strike Lykon between the eyes, but the Greek did not move, even his eyelids did not quiver.
“Look!” said Mefres, holding the crystal up to Lykon. “Dost thou see the man who carried off Kama?”
The Greek sprang from his chair, his fists were clenched, and there was saliva on his lips.
“Let me go!” cried he with a hoarse voice. “Let me go and drink his blood.”
“Where is he now?” inquired Mefres.
“In the villa at the side of the garden next the river. A beautiful woman is with him.”
“Her name is Hebron, and she is the wife of Tutmosis,” added Herhor. “Confess, Mefres, that second sight is not needed to know that.”
Mefres closed his thin lips tightly.
“If this does not convince thee, worthiness, I will show something better,” said he at length. “Lykon, find now the traitor who is seeking the way to the treasure of the labyrinth.”
The sleeping Greek looked for a while at the crystal intently, and answered,—
“I see him—he is dressed in the rags of a beggar.”
“Where is he?”
“In the court of the last inn before the labyrinth. He will be there in the morning.”
“How does he look?”
“He has red hair and beard,” answered Lykon.
“Well?” inquired Mefres of Herhor.
“Thou hast good police, worthiness,” replied Herhor.
“But the overseers of the labyrinth guard it poorly!” said Mefres in anger. “I will go there to-night with Lykon to warn the local priests. But if I succeed in saving the treasure of the gods, thou wilt permit me to become its overseer, worthiness?”
“As thou wishest,” answered Herhor with indifference. But in his heart he added: “The pious Mefres begins at last to show his claws and teeth. He desires to become only overseer of the labyrinth, and his ward, Lykon, he would make only—pharaoh! Indeed, to satisfy the greed of my assistants the gods would have to make ten Egypts.”
When both dignitaries had left the vault, Herhor, in the night, returned on foot to the temple of Isis where he had a dwelling, but Mefres commanded to make ready a couple of litters on horses. In one of these the younger priests placed the sleeping Lykon with a bag on his head; in the other the high priest himself took his place and, surrounded by a party of horsemen went at a sharp trot in the direction of Fayum.
On the night between the 14th and 15th Paofi the high priest Samentu, according to the promise given Rameses, entered the labyrinth by a corridor known to himself only. He had in his hand a bundle of torches, one of which was burning, and on his back he carried tools in a small basket.
Samentu passed very easily from hall to hall, from corridor to corridor, pushing back with a touch stone slabs in columns and in walls where there were secret doors. Sometimes he hesitated, but then he read mysterious signs on the walls and compared them with signs on the beads which he bore on his neck.
After a journey of half an hour he found himself in the treasure room,—whence by pushing aside a slab in the pavement he reached a hall in the lower story. The hall was spacious and its ceiling rested on a number of short thick columns.
Samentu put down his basket and, lighting two torches, began by the light of them to read inscriptions on the walls.
“Despite my wretched figure,” declared one inscription, “I am a real son of the gods, for my anger is terrible.
“In the open air I turn to a column of fire, and I am lightning. Confined I am thunder and destruction, and no building can resist me.
“Nothing can weaken me but sacred water which takes my force away. But my anger is roused as well by the smallest spark as by a flame.
“In my presence everything is twisted and broken. I am like Typhon, who overturns the highest trees and lifts rocks from their places.”
“In one word, every temple has its secret which others do not know,” thought Samentu.
He opened one column and took a large pot from it. Thepot had a cover sealed with wax, also an opening through which passed a long slender cord; it was unknown where this cord ended inside the column. Samentu cut off a piece, touched the torch with it and saw that the cord gave out a hiss and burned quickly. Then with a knife he removed the cover very carefully and saw inside the pot as it were sand and pebbles of an ashen color. He took out a couple of the pebbles and going aside touched them with the torch. In one moment a flame burst forth and the pebbles vanished leaving thick smoke behind and a disagreeable odor. Samentu took some of the ash-colored sand, poured it on the pavement, put in the middle of it a piece of the cord which he had found at the pot, covered all with a heavy stone. Then he touched the cord with his torch, the cord burned and after a while the stone sprang up in a flame.
“I have that son of the gods now!” said Samentu smiling. “The treasure will not be lost.”
He went from column to column to open slabs and take out hidden pots. In each pot was a cord which Samentu cut, the pots he left at one side.
“Well,” said the priest, “his holiness might give me half these treasures and make my son a nomarch—and surely he will do so, for he is a magnanimous sovereign.”
When he had rendered the lower hall safe in this way Samentu returned to the treasure chamber, and hence went to the upper hall. There also were various inscriptions on the walls, numerous columns and in them pots provided with cords and filled with kernels which burst when fire touched them. Samentu cut the cords, removed the pots from the interior of the columns, and tied up in a rag one pinch of the sand. Then being wearied he sat down to rest. Six of his torches were burnt now. The night must have been nearing its end.
“I never should have supposed,” said he to himself, “that those priests had such a wonderful agent. Why, with it they could overturn Assyrian fortresses! Well, we will not tell our own pupils everything either.”
The wearied man fell to thinking. Now he was certain that he would hold the highest position in Egypt, a position higher than that held by Herhor. What would he do? Very much.He would secure wealth and wisdom to his posterity. He would try to gain their secrets from all the temples and this would increase his power immensely; he would secure to Egypt preëminence above Assyria.
The young pharaoh jeered at the gods, that would facilitate to Samentu the establishment of the worship of one god, Osiris, for example; and the union of Phœnicians, Jews, Greeks, and Libyans in one state with Egypt.
Together they would make the canal to join the Red Sea and the Mediterranean. Along that canal they would build fortresses and concentrate a numerous army—all the trade with unknown nations of the Orient and the West would fall into the hands of Egyptians.
They would require an Egyptian fleet and Egyptian sailors. But above all was the need to crush Assyria, which was growing each year more dangerous. It was imperative to stop priestly greed and excesses. Let priests be sages, let them have a sufficiency, but let them serve the state instead of using it for their own profit as at present.
“In the month Hator,” thought Samentu, “I shall be ruler of Egypt! The young lord loves women and warriors too well to labor at governing. And if he has no son, then my son, my son—”
He came to himself. One more torch had burnt out; it was high time to leave those underground chambers.
He rose, took his basket and left the hall above the treasure.
“I need no assistance,” thought he, laughing. “I have secured everything—I alone—I, the despised priest of Set!”
He had passed a number of tens of chambers and corridors when he halted on a sudden. It seemed to him that on the pavement of the hall to which he was going he saw a small streak of light.
In one moment such dreadful fear seized the man that he put out his torch. But the streak of light on the pavement had vanished. Samentu strained his hearing, but he heard only the throbbing of his own temples.
“That only seemed to me!” said he.
With a trembling hand he took out of the basket a smallvessel in which punk was burning slowly, and he lighted the torch again.
“I am very drowsy,” thought he. Looking around the chamber he went to a wall in which a door was hidden. He pushed a nail; the door did not slip back. A second, a third pressure—no effect.
“What does this mean?” thought Samentu in amazement.
He forgot now the streak of light. It seemed to him that a new thing, unheard of, had met him. He had opened in his life so many hundreds of secret doors, he had opened so many in the labyrinth, that he could not understand simply the present resistance. Terror seized him a second time. He ran from wall to wall and tried secret doors everywhere. At last one opened. He found himself in an immense hall, filled as usual with columns. His torch lighted barely a part of the space, the remainder of it was lost in thick darkness.
The darkness, the forest of columns, and above all the strangeness of the hall gave the priest confidence. At the bottom of his fear a spark of naive hope was roused then. It seemed to him that since he did not know the place himself no one else knew it, and that no man would meet him in that labyrinth.
He was pacified somewhat and felt that his legs were bending under him; so he sat down. But again he sprang up and looked around, as if to learn whether danger was really threatening, and whence. From which of those dark corners would it come out to rush at him?
Samentu was acquainted as no other man in Egypt with subterranean places, with going astray, and with darkness. He had passed also through many alarms in his life. But that which he experienced then was something perfectly new and so terrible that the priest feared to give its own name to it.
At last, with great effort, he collected his thoughts, and said,—
“If indeed I have seen a light—if indeed some one has closed the doors, I am betrayed. In that case what?”
“Death!” whispered a voice hidden in the bottom of his soul somewhere.
“Death?”
Sweat came out on his face, his breath stopped. All at once the madness of fear mastered him. He ran through the chamber and struck his fist against the wall, seeking an exit. He forgot where he was and how he had got there; he lost his direction, and even the power of taking bearings with the bead-string.
All at once he felt that in him were two persons, so to speak: one really bewildered, the other wise and self-possessed. This wise man explained to himself that all might be imagination, that no one had discovered him, that no one was searching, and that he could escape if he would recover somewhat. But the first, the bewildered man, would not listen to the voice of wisdom; on the contrary, he gained on his internal antagonist every moment.
Oh, if he could only hide in some column! Let them seek then— Though surely no one would seek, and no one would find him, while self-command would come again to him.
“What can happen to me here?” said he, shrugging his shoulders. “If I calm myself they can chase me through the whole labyrinth. To cut off all the roads there would have to be many thousand persons, and to indicate what cell I am in a miracle would be needed! But let us suppose that they seize me. Then what? I will take this little vial here, put it to my lips, and in one moment I shall flee away so that no one could catch me—not even a divinity.”
But in spite of reasoning, such terrible fear seized the man again that he put out the torch a second time, and trembling, his teeth chattering, he pushed up to one of the columns.
“How was it possible—how could I decide to come in here?” thought Samentu. “Had I not food to eat, a place on which to lay my head? It is a simple thing, I am discovered! The labyrinth has a multitude of overseers as watchful as dogs, and only a child, or an idiot, would think of deceiving them. Property—power! Where is the treasure for which it would be worth while for a man to give one day of his life? And here, I, a man in the bloom of existence, have exposed myself.”
It seemed to him that he heard heavy knocking. He sprang up and in the depth of the chamber he saw a gleam of light.
Yes!—a real gleam of light, not an illusion. At a distant wall, somewhere at the end, stood an open door through which at that moment armed men were coming in carefully with torches.
At sight of this the priest felt a chill in his feet, in his heart, in his head. He doubted no longer that he was not merely discovered, but hunted and surrounded.
Who could have betrayed him? Of course only one man: the young priest of Set, whom he had acquainted minutely enough with his purposes. The traitor, if alone, would have had to look almost a month for the way to the treasure, but if he had agreed with the overseers they might in one day track out Samentu.
At that moment the high priest felt the impressions known only to men who are looking at death face to face. He ceased to fear since his imagined alarms had now vanished before real torches. Not only did he regain self-command, but he felt immensely above everything living. In a short time he would be threatened no longer by danger of any sort.
The thoughts flew through his head with lightning clearness and speed. He took in the whole of his existence: his toils, his perils, his hopes, his ambitions, and all of those seemed to him a trifle. For what would it serve him to be at that moment the pharaoh, or to own every treasure in all kingdoms? They were vanity, dust, and even worse—an illusion. Death alone was all-mighty and genuine.
Meanwhile the torch-bearers were examining columns most carefully, and also every corner; they had passed through half the immense hall. Samentu saw even the points of their lances, and noted that the men hesitated and advanced with alarm and repulsion. A few steps behind them was another group of persons to whom one torch gave light. Samentu did not even feel aversion toward them, he was only curious as to who could have betrayed him. But even that point did not concern him over-much, for incomparably more important then seemed the question: Why must he die, and why had he been brought into existence? For with death present as a fact a whole lifetime is shortened into one painful minute even though that life were the longest of all and the richest in experience.
“Why was he alive? For what purpose?”
He was sobered by the voice of one of the armed men,—
“There is no one here, and cannot be.”
They halted. Samentu felt that he loved those men, and his heart thumped within him.
The second group of persons came up; among them there was a discussion,—
“How can even thou, worthiness, suppose that some one has entered?” asked a voice quivering with anger. “All the entrances are guarded, especially now. And even if any one stole in it would be only to die here of hunger.”
“But, worthiness, see how this Lykon bears himself,” answered another voice. “The sleeping man looks all the time as if he felt an enemy near him.”
“Lykon?” thought Samentu. “Ah, that Greek who is like the pharaoh. What do I see? Mefres has brought him!”
At this moment the sleeping Greek rushed forward and stopped at the column behind which Samentu was hidden. The armed men ran after him, and the gleam of their torches threw light on the dark figure of Samentu.
“Who is here?” cried, with a hoarse voice, the leader.
Samentu stood forth. The sight of him made such a powerful impression that the torch-bearers withdrew. He might have passed out between them, so terrified were they, and no one would have detained him; but the priest thought no longer of rescue.
“Well, has my man with second sight been mistaken?” said Mefres, pointing at his victim. “There is the traitor!”
Samentu approached him with a smile, and said,—
“I recognize thee by that cry, Mefres. When thou canst not be a cheat, thou art merely an idiot.”
Those present were astounded. Samentu spoke with calm irony.
“Though it is true that at this moment thou art both cheat and fool. A cheat, for thou art trying to persuade the overseers of the labyrinth that this villain has the gift of second sight; and a fool, for thou thinkest that they believe thee. Better tell them that in the temple of Ptah there are detailed plans of the labyrinth.”
“That is a lie!” cried Mefres.
“Ask those men whom they believe: thee, or me? I am here because I found plans in the temple of Set; thou hast come by the grace of the immortal Ptah,” concluded Samentu, laughing.
“Bind that traitor and liar!” cried Mefres.
Samentu moved back a couple of steps, drew forth quickly from under his garment a vial, and said, while raising it to his lips,—
“Mefres, thou wilt be an idiot till death. Thou hast wit only when it is a question of money.”
He placed the vial between his lips and fell to the pavement.
The armed men rushed to the priest and raised him, but he had slipped through their fingers already.
“Let him stay here, like others,” said the overseer of the labyrinth.
The whole retinue left the hall and closed the open doors carefully. Soon they issued forth from the edifice.
When the worthy Mefres found himself in the court he commanded the priests to make ready the mounted litters, and rode away with the sleeping Lykon to Memphis.
The overseers of the labyrinth, dazed by the uncommon events, looked now at one another, and now at the escort of Mefres, which was disappearing in a yellow dust cloud.
“I cannot believe,” said the chief overseer, “that in our days there was a man who could break into the labyrinth.”
“Your worthiness forgets that this day there were three such,” interrupted one of the younger priests looking askance at him.
“A—a—true!” answered the high priest. “Have the gods disturbed my reason?” said he, rubbing his forehead and pressing the amulet on his breast.
“And two have fled,” added the younger priest.
“Why didst thou not turn my attention to that in the labyrinth?” burst out the superior.
“I did not know that things would turn out as they have.”
“Woe is on my head!” cried the high priest. “Not chief should I be at this edifice, but gatekeeper. We were warned that some one was stealing in, but now we have let out two ofthe most dangerous, who will bring now whomever it may please them—O woe!”
“Thou hast no need, worthiness, to despair,” said another priest. “Our law is explicit. Send four or six of our men to Memphis, and provide them with sentences. The rest will be their work.”
“I have lost my reason,” complained the high priest.
“What has happened is over,” interrupted the young priest, with irony. “One thing is certain: that men who not only reach the vaults, but even walk through them as through their own houses, may not live.”
“Then select six from our militia.”
“Of course! It is necessary to end this,” confirmed the overseers.
“Who knows if Mefres did not act in concert with the most worthy Herhor?” whispered some one.
“Enough!” exclaimed the high priest. “If we find Herhor in the labyrinth we will act as the law directs. But to make guesses, or suspect, any one is not permitted. Let the secretaries prepare sentences for Mefres and Lykon. Let those chosen hurry after them, and let the militia strengthen the watch. We must also examine the interior of the edifice and discover how Samentu got into it, though I am sure that he will have no followers in the near future.”
A couple of hours later six men had set out for Memphis.
ON the eighteenth day of Paofi chaos had begun. Communication was interrupted between Lower and Upper Egypt; commerce had ceased; on the Nile moved only boats on guard, the roads were occupied by troops marching toward those cities which contained the most famous temples.
Only the laborers of the priests were at work in the fields. On the estates of nobles and nomarchs, but especially of the pharaoh, flax was unpulled, clover uncut; there was no one to gather in grapes. The common people did nothing but prowl about in bands; they sang, ate, drank, and threatened eitherpriests or Phœnicians. In the cities all shops were closed, and the artisans who had lost their occupation counselled whole days over the reconstruction of Egypt. This offensive spectacle was no novelty, but it appeared in such threatening proportions that the tax-gatherers, and even the judges began to hide, especially as the police treated all offences of common men very mildly.
One thing more deserved attention: the abundance of food and wine. In dramshops and cook houses, especially of the Phœnicians, as well in Memphis as in the provinces, whoso wished might eat and drink what he pleased at a very low price, or for nothing. It was said that his holiness was giving his people a feast which would continue a whole month in every case.
Because of difficult and even interrupted communication the cities were not aware of what was happening in neighboring places. Only the pharaoh, or still better the priests, knew the general condition of the country.
The position was distinguished, first of all, by a break between Upper, or Theban, and Lower, or Memphian Egypt. In Thebes partisans of the priesthood were stronger, in Memphis adherents of the pharaoh. In Thebes people said that Rameses XIII. had gone mad, and wished to sell Egypt to Phœnicians; in Memphis they explained that the priests wished to poison the pharaoh and bring in Assyrians. The common people, as well in the north as the south, felt an instinctive attraction toward the pharaoh. But the force of the people was passive and tottering. When an agitator of the government spoke, the people were ready to attack a temple and beat priests, but when a procession appeared they fell on their faces and were timid while listening to accounts of disasters which threatened Egypt in that very month of Paofi.
The terrified nobles and nomarchs had assembled at Memphis to implore the pharaoh for rescue from the rebelling multitude. But since Rameses enjoined on them patience, and did not attack the rabble, the magnates began to take counsel with the adherents of the priesthood.
It is true that Herhor was silent, or enjoined patience also;but other high priests proved to the nobles that Rameses was a maniac, and hinted at the need of deposing him.
In Memphis itself two parties were facing each other. The godless who drank, made an uproar, threw mud at temples and even at statues, and the pious, mainly old men and women who prayed on the streets, prophesied misfortune aloud and implored all the divinities for rescue. The godless committed outrages daily; each day among the pious health returned to some sick man or cripple. But for a wonder neither party, in spite of roused passions, worked harm on the other, and still greater wonder neither party resorted to violence, which came from this, that each was disturbed by direction, and according to plans framed in higher circles.
The pharaoh, not having collected all his troops and all his proofs against the priests, did not give the order yet for a final attack on the temples; the priests seemed waiting for something. It was evident, however, that they did not feel so weak as in the first moments after the voting by delegates. Rameses himself became thoughtful when men reported from every side that people on the lands of the priests did not mix in disturbances at all, but were working.
“What does this mean?” asked the pharaoh of himself. “Do the shaven heads think that I dare not touch temples, or have they means of defence quite unknown to me?”
On the 19th of Paofi a police official informed Rameses that the night before people had begun to break the walls inclosing the temple of Horus.
“Did ye command them to do that?” inquired the pharaoh.
“No. They began of their own accord.”
“Restrain them mildly—restrain them,” said Rameses. “In a few days they may do what they like. But now let them not act with great violence.”
Rameses, as a leader and victor at the Soda Lakes, knew that once men attack in a multitude nothing has power to restrain them; they must break or be broken. Unless the temples defend themselves the multitude will take them; but if they defend themselves? In that case the people will flee and there will be need to send warriors, of whom there were many it is true, but not so many as would be needed, accordingto the pharaoh’s own reckoning. Moreover, Hiram had not returned from Pi-Bast yet with letters proving the treason of Mefres and Herhor. And what was more important, the priests who sided with the pharaoh were to assist the troops only on Paofi 23d. By what means then could he forewarn them in temples which were so numerous and so distant from one another? And did not caution itself command him to avoid relations which might betray them?
For these reasons Rameses did not wish an earlier attack on the temples.
Meanwhile the disturbance increased in spite of the pharaoh. Near the temple of Isis a number of pious persons were slain who predicted misfortune to Egypt, or who had recovered their health by a miracle. Near the temple of Ptah the multitude rushed on a procession, struck down the priests, and broke the holy boat in which the god was advancing. Almost at the same time messengers flew in from the cities of Sochem and Anu with news that people were breaking into the temples, and that in Cherau they had even broken in and desecrated the most holy places.
Toward evening a deputation of priests came, almost by stealth, to the palace of his holiness; the revered prophets fell at his feet, weeping, crying out to him to defend the gods and their sanctuaries.
This altogether unexpected event filled the heart of Rameses with great delight and still greater pride. He commanded the delegates to rise, and answered graciously that his regiments would be always ready to defend the temples when conducted into them.
“I have no doubt,” said he, “that the rioters themselves will withdraw when they see the dwellings of the gods occupied by the army.”
The delegates hesitated.
“It is known to thee, holiness,” answered the chief, “that the army may not enter the inclosure of a temple. We must ask, therefore, what the high priests have to say.”
“Very well, take counsel,” answered the sovereign. “I cannot perform miracles, and I cannot defend temples from a distance.”
The saddened delegates left the pharaoh, who after their departure summoned a confidential council. He was convinced that the priests would yield to his will, and it did not even occur to him that the delegation itself was a trick arranged by Herhor to lead him into error.
When the civil and military officials had assembled in the pharaoh’s chamber Rameses began,—
“I thought,” said he, proudly, “to occupy the temples of Memphis only on the 23d, but I consider it better to do so to-morrow.”
“Our troops have not assembled yet,” objected Tutmosis.
“And we have not Herhor’s letters to Assyria,” added the chief scribe.
“Never mind!” answered the pharaoh. “Proclaim to-morrow that Herhor and Mefres are traitors, and we will show the nomarchs and priests the proofs three days later when Hiram returns from Pi-Bast to us.”
“Thy new command, holiness, will change the first one greatly,” said Tutmosis. “We shall not occupy the labyrinth to-morrow. If the temples in Memphis make bold to resist, we have not even rams to break down the gates.”
“Tutmosis,” answered the pharaoh, “I might not explain my commands, but I wish to convince thee that my heart estimates the course of events more profoundly. If people attack the temples to-day they will wish to break into them to-morrow. Unless we support them they will be repulsed, and will be discouraged in every case from deeds of daring. The priests send a delegation to-day, hence they are weak. Meanwhile the number of their adherents among the common people may be greater some days hence. Enthusiasm and fear are like wine in a pitcher; it decreases in proportion as it is poured out, and only he can drink who puts his goblet under in season. If the people are ready to attack to-day and the enemy is frightened, let us make use of the situation, for, as I say, luck may leave us in a few days, or may turn against us.”
“And provisions will be exhausted,” added the treasurer. “In three days the people must return to work, for we shall not have the wherewithal to feed them.”
“Oh, seest thou,” continued the pharaoh to Tutmosis. “I myself have commanded the chief of police to restrain the people. But it is impossible to restrain them, we must make a movement. An experienced sailor struggles neither with wind nor current, but he lets them bear him in the direction which they have taken.”
At this moment a courier came in with news that the people had fallen upon foreigners. They had assaulted Greeks, Assyrians, but especially Phœnicians. They had plundered many shops and slain a number of persons.
“Here is proof,” cried the excited pharaoh, “that we should not turn a crowd from the road it has taken. Let the troops be near the temples to-morrow, and let them march in if the people begin to burst into them, or—or if they begin to withdraw under pressure.
“It is true that grapes should be gathered in the month Paofi; but is there a gardener, who if his fruit were ripe a month earlier, would leave it on the vines to wither?
“I repeat this: I wished to delay the movement of the people till we had finished preparations. But if it is impossible to delay, let us raise our sails and use the wind which is blowing. Ye must arrest Herhor and Mefres to-morrow and bring them to the palace. In a few days we will finish with the labyrinth.”
The members of the council recognized that the decision of the pharaoh was proper, and they departed admiring his promptness and wisdom. Even generals declared that it was better to use the occasion at hand than to have forces ready when the time had passed in which to use them.
It was night. Another courier rushed in from Memphis with information that the police had been able to protect foreigners, but that the people were excited and it was unknown what they might attempt on the morrow.
Thenceforth courier arrived after courier. Some brought news that a great mass of men armed with clubs and axes were moving toward Memphis from every direction. From somewhere else information came that people in the region of Peme, Sochem, and On, were fleeing to the fields and crying that the end of the world would come the day following.Another courier brought a letter from Hiram that he would arrive very soon. Another announced the stealthy advance of temple regiments to Memphis, and, what was more important, that from Upper Egypt were moving strong divisions of people and troops hostile to the Phœnicians, and even to his holiness.
“Before they arrive,” thought the pharaoh, “I shall have the high priests in my hands and even the regiments of Nitager—now some days late in arriving.”
Finally information was brought that troops had seized here and there on the highways, disguised priests who were trying to reach the palace of his holiness, no doubt with evil purpose.
“Bring them here,” answered Rameses, laughing. “I wish to see men who dare to form evil plans against the pharaoh.”
About midnight the revered queen, Nikotris, desired an audience of his holiness.
The worthy lady was pale and trembling. She commanded the officers to leave the pharaoh’s chamber, and when alone with her son she said, weeping,—
“My son, I bring thee very bad omens.”
“I should prefer, queen, to hear accurate information of the strength and intention of my enemies.”
“This evening the statue of the divine Isis in my chapel turned its face to the wall, and water became blood-red in the sacred cistern.”
“That proves,” replied the pharaoh, “that there are traitors in the palace. But they are not very dangerous if they are able only to defile water and turn statues back forward.”
“All our servants,” continued the queen, “all the people are convinced that if thy army enters the temples, great misfortune will fall upon Egypt.”
“A greater misfortune,” said the pharaoh, “is the insolence of the priesthood. Admitted by my ever-living father to the palace, they think to-day that they have become its owners. But by the gods, what shall I become at last in presence of their all-mightiness? And shall I not be free to claim my rights as a sovereign?”
“At least—at least,” said the lady after a while, “begracious. Yes, thou must claim thy rights, but do not permit thy soldiers to violate holy places and do injustice to the priesthood. Remember that the gracious gods send down delight on Egypt, and the priests in spite of their errors (who is without them) have rendered incomparable services to this country. Only think, if thou shouldest impoverish and dismiss them, thou wouldst destroy wisdom which has raised our kingdom above all others.”
The pharaoh took his mother by both hands, kissed her, and replied, smiling,—
“Women must always exaggerate. Thou art speaking to me, mother, as if I were the chief of wild Hyksos, and not a pharaoh. Do I wish injustice to the priests? Do I hate their wisdom, even such barren wisdom as that of investigating the course of the stars which move in the heavens without our aid, and do not enrich us one uten? Neither their wisdom nor their piety troubles me, but the wretchedness of Egypt, which within is growing weak from hunger, and without is afraid of any threat from Assyria. Meanwhile the priests, in spite of their wisdom, not merely do not wish to help me in my measures, but they present resistance in the most dangerous manner.
“Let me, mother, convince them that not they, but I am the master of my own heritage. I should not be able to take revenge on the submissive, but I will trample on the necks of the insolent.
“They know this, but still do not trust, and—with a lack of real power—they wish to frighten me by declaring some misfortune. That is their last resource and weapon. When they understand that I do not fear their terrors they will submit. And then not a stone will fall from their temples, or one ring be lost from their treasures.
“I know those men! To-day they put on a great front, for I am far from them. But when I stretch out a bronze fist they will fall on their faces, and all this confusion will end in general prosperity and contentment.”
The queen embraced his feet and went out comforted, imploring him, however, to respect the gods and spare their servants.
After the departure of his mother he summoned Tutmosis.
“To-morrow,” said the pharaoh, “my troops will occupy the temples. But tell the commanders of regiments, let them know that it is my will, that the holy places must be inviolate, and that no one is to raise a hand on any priest in Egypt.”
“Even on Mefres and Herhor?” inquired Tutmosis.
“Even on them. They will be punished enough when they are put out of their present positions; they will live in learned temples to pray and investigate wisdom without hindrance.”
“It will be as thou commandest, holiness—though—”
Rameses raised his finger in sign that he did not wish to hear arguments. And then, to change the conversation, he said, with a smile,—
“Dost thou remember, Tutmosis, the manœuvres at Pi-Bailos? Two years have passed. When I was angry then at the insolence and greed of the priests, couldst thou think that I should reckon with them so early? But poor Sarah—and my little son. How beautiful he was!”
Two tears rolled down the pharaoh’s cheeks.
“Indeed, if I were not a son of the gods, who are magnanimous and merciful, my enemies would pass through grievous hours to-morrow. How many humiliations have they put on me! How often have my eyes grown dark from weeping!”
ON the 20th of Paofi Memphis looked as it might during a great solemn festival. All occupations had ceased; even carriers were not bearing burdens. The whole population had come out on the streets, or had collected around the temples,—mainly around the temple of Ptah, which was the best defended, and where the spiritual dignitaries had come together, also those lay officials who were under the direction of Herhor and Mefres.
Near the temples troops were posted in loose rank, so that the warriors might come to an understanding with the populace.
Among the common people and the army circulated manyhucksters, with baskets of bread and with pitchers and skin bags in which there was wine. They entertained free of charge. When any one asked them why they took no pay, some answered that his holiness was entertaining his subjects, while others said,—
“Eat and drink, right-believing Egyptians, for it is unknown whether we shall see to-morrow!”
These were hucksters in the service of the priesthood.
A multitude of agents were circling about. Some proved to listeners that the priests were rebelling against their lord, and even wanted to poison him, because he had promised the seventh day for rest. Others whispered that the pharaoh had gone mad, and had conspired with foreigners to destroy the temples and Egypt. The first encouraged the people to attack the temples where the priests and nomarchs were arranging to oppress laborers and artisans; the others expressed fear that if the people attacked the temples some great misfortune might fall on them.
Under the walls of Ptah were a number of strong beams, and piles of stones brought, it was unknown from what quarter.
The serious merchants of Memphis, passing among the crowds, had no doubt that the popular disturbance was called forth artificially. Inferior scribes, policemen, overseers of laborers, and disguised decurions denied neither their official positions, nor this, that they were urging the people to occupy the temples. On the other side dissectors, beggars, temple servants and inferior priests, though they wished to conceal their identity, were unable to do so, and each one who was endowed with perception saw that they were urging the people to violence. The thinking citizens of Memphis were astonished at this action of partisans of the priesthood, and the people began to fall away from their zeal of yesterday. Genuine Egyptians could not understand what the question was, or who was really calling forth disturbance. The chaos was increased by half-frenzied zealots, who, running about the streets naked, wounded themselves till the blood flowed, and cried,—
“Woe to Egypt! Impiety has passed its measure and thehour of judgment is coming! O gods show your power over the insolence of injustice.”
The troops bore themselves calmly, waiting till the people should break into the temples. For an order to that effect had come from the palace; and on the other the officers foresaw ambushes in the temples, and preferred that men of the crowd should perish rather than warriors, who would be sufficiently occupied in every case.
But in spite of the shouts of agitators, and wine given for nothing, the crowd hesitated. Laborers looked at the artisans; the artisans and all were waiting for something.
Suddenly, about one in the afternoon, from side streets a drunken band poured forth toward the temple of Ptah; it was armed with poles and axes and was made up of fishermen, Greek sailors, shepherds, and Libyan vagrants, even convicts from the quarries in Turra. At the head of this band went a laborer of gigantic stature, with a torch in his hand. He stood before the gate of the temple and cried with an immense voice to the people,—
“Do ye know, right believers, what the high priests and the nomarchs are preparing here? They wish to force his holiness, Rameses XIII., to deprive laborers of a barley cake a day, and to impose new taxes on the people, a drachma each man. I say, then, that ye are committing a low and stupid deed by standing here with your arms crossed. We must catch these temple rats at last and give them into the hands of our lord, the pharaoh, against whom these godless wretches are conspiring. If our lord yields to priests, who will take the part of honest people?”
“He speaks truth!” called out voices from the multitude.
“Our lord will command to give us the seventh day for rest.”
“And will give us land.”
“He had compassion always for the common people. Remember how he freed those who, two years ago, were under judgment for attacking the house of the Jewess.”
“I myself saw him beat a scribe, when the man was dragging an unjust tax from laborers.”
“May he live through eternity, our lord, Rameses XIII., the guardian of oppressed laborers!”
“But look!” called out some voice from afar, “the cattle are coming from pasture, as if evening were near.”
“What cattle! Go on against the priests!”
“Hei, ye!” cried the giant at the temple gate. “Open to us of your own will, so that we may know what the high priests and the nomarchs are counselling!”
“Open, or we will break the gate!”
“A wonderful thing,” said people from afar; “the birds are going to sleep. But it is only midday.”
“Something evil has happened in the air!”
“O gods, night is coming, and I haven’t pulled salad for dinner,” said some girl.
But these remarks were drowned by the uproar of the drunken band, and the noise of beams striking the bronze gate of the temple. If the crowd had been less occupied with the violent deeds of the attackers, they would have seen that something unusual was happening in nature. The sun was shining, there was not one cloud in the sky, and still the brightness of the day had begun to decrease and there was a breath of coolness.
“Give us another beam!” cried the attackers of the temple. “The gate is giving way!”
“Powerfully! Once more!”
The crowd looking on roared like a tempest. Here and there men began to separate from the throng and join the attackers. At last a whole mass of people pushed slowly toward the temple.
Though but just past midday, gloom increased. In the gardens of the temple the cocks began to crow. But the rage of the throng was so great now that few noticed the change.
“Look ye!” cried some beggar. “Behold the day of judgment is coming—O gods—”
He wished to speak on, but struck on the head by a club he fell prostrate.
On the walls of the temple naked but armed figures began to climb up. Officers called the warriors to arms, certain that soon they would have to support the attack of the multitude.
“What does this mean?” whispered warriors, looking at the sky. “There is not a cloud, still the world looks as it does in the time of a tempest.”
“Strike! break!” shouted men near the temple.
The sound of beams was more and more frequent.
At that moment on the terrace above the gate appeared Herhor. He was surrounded by a retinue of priests and civil dignitaries. The most worthy high priest was in a golden robe, and wore the cap of Amenhôtep with its regal serpent.
Herhor looked at the enormous masses of people who surrounded the temple, and bending toward the band of stormers, he said to them,—
“Whoever ye are, right believers or unbelievers, leave this temple in peace, in the name of the gods I summon you.”
The uproar of the people ceased suddenly, and only the pounding of the beams against the bronze gate was audible. But soon even that ceased.
“Open the gate!” cried the giant from below. “We wish to see if ye are forging treason against the pharaoh.”
“My son,” replied Herhor, “fall on thy face and implore the gods to forgive thee thy sacrilege.”
“Ask thou the gods to shield thee!” cried the leader of the band, and taking a stone he threw it toward the high priest.
At the same time, from a window of the pylon shot out a small stream which seemed to be water, and which struck the giant’s face. The bandit tottered, threw up his hands, and fell.
Those nearest him gave out a cry of fear, whereupon the farther ranks, not seeing what had happened, answered with laughter and curses.