“Break down the gate!” was heard from the end of the crowd, and a volley of stones flew in the direction of Herhor and his retinue.
Herhor raised both hands, and when the crowd had grown silent again the high priest shouted,—
“O gods! into your protection I give these sacred retreats, against which blasphemers and traitors are advancing!”
A moment later, somewhere above the temple, an unearthly voice was heard,—
“I turn my face from the accursed people and may darkness fall on the earth.”
Then a dreadful thing happened: as the voice rose the sundecreased, and with the last word there was darkness as at night. Stars began to shine in the heavens; instead of the sun was a black disk surrounded with a thin hoop of flame.
An immense cry was rent from a hundred thousand breasts. Those who were storming the gate threw down their beams; common people fell to the earth.
“Oh, the day of punishment and death has come!” cried a shrill voice at the end of the street.
“O gods of mercy! O holy men, ward off this terror!” cried the crowd.
“Woe to armies which carry out the orders of godless commanders!” cried a great voice from the temple.
In answer all the people fell on their faces, and confusion rose in the two regiments standing before the temple. The ranks broke, warriors threw down their weapons and ran toward the river insensate. Some, rushing like blind men, knocked against the walls of houses in the darkness; others fell to the ground and were trampled to death by their comrades. In the course of a few minutes, instead of close columns of warriors, on the square, spears and axes lay scattered about, and at the entrance of the streets were piles of dead and wounded.
“O gods! O gods!” groaned and cried the people, “take pity on the innocent.”
“Osiris!” cried Herhor from the terrace, “have compassion and show thy face to the unfortunate people.”
“At last I hear the prayers of my priests, for I am compassionate,” answered the supernatural voice from the temple.
At that moment the darkness began to disappear, and the sun to regain its brightness.
A new shout, new weeping, and new prayers were heard in the throng. The people, drunk with delight, greeted the sun which had risen from the dead. Men unknown to one another embraced, some persons died, and all crawled on their knees to kiss the sacred walls of the temple.
Above the gate stood the most worthy Herhor, his eyes fixed on the sky, and two priests supporting his holy handswith which he had dissipated darkness, and saved his people from destruction.
Scenes of the same kind with certain changes took place throughout all Lower Egypt. In each city on the 20th of Paofi people had collected from early morning. In each city about midday some band was storming a sacred gate. About one the high priest of the temple, with a retinue, cursed the faithless attackers and produced darkness. But when the throng fled in panic, or fell on the ground, the high priest prayed to Osiris to show his face, and then the light of day returned to the earth again.
In this way, thanks to the eclipse of the sun, the party of the priests, full of wisdom, had shaken the importance of Rameses XIII. in Lower Egypt.
In the course of a few minutes the government of the pharaoh had come, even without knowing it, to the brink of a precipice. Only great wisdom could save it, and an accurate knowledge of the situation. But that was lacking in the pharaoh’s palace, where the all-powerful reign of chance had set in at that critical moment.
On the 20th of Paofi his holiness rose exactly at sunrise, and, to be nearer the scene of action, he transferred himself from the main palace to a villa which was hardly an hour’s distance from Memphis. On one side of this villa were the barracks of the Asiatic troops, on the other the villa of Tutmosis and his wife, the beautiful Hebron. With their lord came the dignitaries faithful to Rameses, and the first regiment of the guard in which the pharaoh felt unbounded reliance.
Rameses was in perfect humor. He bathed, ate with appetite, and began to hear the reports of couriers who flew in from Memphis every fifteen minutes.
Their reports were monotonous to weariness: The high priests and some of the nomarchs, under the leadership of Herhor and Mefres, had shut themselves up in the temple of Ptah. The army was full of hope, and the people excited. All were blessing the pharaoh, and waiting the order to move on the temple.
When the fourth courier came about nine, and repeated the same words, the pharaoh was frowning.
“What are they waiting for?” asked he. “Let them attack immediately.”
The courier answered that the chief band which was to attack and batter down the bronze gate had not arrived yet.
This explanation displeased the pharaoh. He shock his head, and sent an officer to Memphis to hasten the attack.
“What does this delay mean?” asked he. “I thought that my army would waken me with news of the capture of the temple. In such cases prompt action is the condition of success.”
The officer rode away, but nothing had changed at the temple of Ptah. The people were waiting for something, but the chief band was not in its place yet. Some other will seemed to delay the execution of the order.
About ten the litter of Queen Nikotris came to the villa occupied by the pharaoh. The revered lady broke into her son’s chamber almost with violence, and fell at his feet, weeping.
“What dost thou wish of me, mother?” asked Rameses, hardly hiding his impatience. “Hast thou forgotten that the camp is no place for women?”
“I will not leave thee to-day, I will not leave thee for an instant!” exclaimed the queen. “Thou art the son of Isis, it is true, and she surrounds thee with care. But I should die from fright.”
“What threatens me?” inquired the pharaoh, shrugging his shoulders.
“The priest who investigates the stars,” said she, tearfully, “declared to a serving woman that thou wilt live and reign a hundred years if this day favors thee.”
“Ah! Where is that man who is skilled in my fate?”
“He fled to Memphis,” replied the lady.
Rameses thought a while, then he said, smiling,—
“As the Libyans at the Soda Lakes hurled missiles at us, the priests hurl threats to-day. Be calm, mother! Talk is less dangerous than stones and arrows.”
From Memphis a new courier rushed in with a report that all was well, but still the main band was not ready.
On the comely face of the pharaoh appeared signs of anger. Wishing to calm the sovereign, Tutmosis said to him,—
“The people are not an army. They know not how to assemble at a given hour; while marching they stretch out like a swamp, and obey no commands. If the occupation of the temples were committed to regiments they would be in possession at present.”
“What art thou saying, Tutmosis?” cried the queen. “Where has any one heard of Egyptian troops—”
“Thou hast forgotten,” interrupted Rameses, “that according to my commands the troops were not to attack, but defend the temples from attacks of the people.”
“Action is delayed through this also,” answered Tutmosis, impatiently.
“O counsellors of the pharaoh!” burst out the queen. “Your lord acts wisely, appearing as a defender of the gods, and ye, instead of making him milder, urge him to violence.”
The blood rushed to Tutmosis’ head. Fortunately an adjutant called him from the chamber with information that at the gate was an old man who wished to speak with his holiness.
“To-day each man is struggling to get at the pharaoh, as he might at the keeper of a dramshop,” muttered the adjutant.
Tutmosis thought that in the time of Rameses XII. no one would have dared to speak of the ruler in that way. But he feigned not to hear.
The old man whom the watch had detained was Prince Hiram. He wore a soldier’s mantle covered with dust; he was irritated and wearied.
Tutmosis commanded to admit him, and when both were in the garden, he said to him,—
“I judge that thou wilt bathe, worthiness, and change thy dress before I obtain an audience with his holiness?”
Hiram raised his iron-gray brows, and his bloodshot eyes became bloodier.
“From what I have seen,” said he firmly, “I may even not ask for an audience.”
“Hast thou the letters of the high priest to Assyria?”
“What good are those letters, since ye have agreed with the priests?”
“What dost thou say, worthiness?” inquired Tutmosis, starting.
“I know what I say!” replied Hiram. “Ye have obtained tens of thousands of talents from the Phœnicians, as it were for the liberation of Egypt from the power of the priesthood, and to-day in return for that ye are robbing and slaying us. See what is happening from the sea to the First Cataract: your common people are hunting the Phœnicians like dogs, for such is the command of the priesthood.”
“Thou art mad, Phœnician! Our people are taking the temple of Ptah in Memphis.”
Hiram waved his hand.
“They will not take it! Ye are deceiving us, or ye are deceiving yourselves. Ye were to seize, first of all, the labyrinth and its treasure, and that only on the 23d. Meanwhile ye are wasting power on the temple of Ptah, and the labyrinth is lost. What is happening here? Where is mind to be found in this place?” continued the indignant Phœnician. “Why storm an empty building? Ye are attacking it so that the priests may take more care of the labyrinth!”
“We will seize the labyrinth, too,” said Tutmosis.
“Ye will seize nothing, nothing! Only one man could take the labyrinth, and he will be stopped by to-day’s action in Memphis.”
Tutmosis halted on the path.
“About what art thou troubled?” asked he, abruptly.
“About the disorder which reigns here. About this, that ye are no longer a government, but a group of officers and officials whom the priests send whithersoever they wish and whensoever it pleases them. For three days, there is such terrible confusion in Lower Egypt that the people are killing us, your only friends, the Phœnicians. And why is this? Because government has dropped from your hands, and the priests have seized it.”
“Thou speakest thus for thou knowest not the position,” replied Tutmosis. “It is true that the priests thwart us and organize attacks on Phœnicians. But power is in the hands of the pharaoh; events move in general according to his orders.”
“And the attack on the temple of Ptah?” inquired Hiram.
“Was ordered by the pharaoh. I was present at the confidential council, during which the pharaoh gave command to take possession of the temples to-day instead of the 23d.”
“Well, I declare to thee, commander of the guard, that ye are lost, for I know to a certainty that the attack of to-day was decided on at a council of high priests and nomarchs in the temple of Ptah, which was held on Paofi 13.”
“Why should they arrange an attack on themselves?” asked Tutmosis in a jeering voice.
“They must have had some reason for it. And I have convinced myself that they manage their affairs better than ye manage yours.”
Further conversation was interrupted by an adjutant summoning Tutmosis to his holiness.
“But—but,” added Hiram, “your soldiers have stopped on the path the priest Pentuer, who has something important to convey to the pharaoh.”
Tutmosis seized his own head, and sent officers immediately to find Pentuer. Then he ran to the pharaoh, and after a while returned and commanded the Phœnician to follow him.
When Hiram entered the chamber of Rameses he saw Queen Nikotris, the chief treasurer, the chief scribe, and a number of generals. Rameses XIII. was irritated, and walked up and down quickly through the chamber.
“Here we have the misfortune of the pharaoh, and of Egypt!” exclaimed the queen, pointing to the Phœnician.
“Worthy lady,” answered Hiram, without confusion, bowing to her, “time will show who was the faithful and who the evil servant of his holiness.”
Rameses stopped suddenly before Hiram.
“Hast thou the letters of Herhor to Assyria?” inquired he.
The Phœnician drew from under his robe a package, and in silence handed it to the pharaoh.
“This is what I needed!” exclaimed the pharaoh in triumph. “We must declare at once to the people that the high priests are guilty of treason—”
“My son,” interrupted the queen in an imploring voice, “by the shade of thy father I adjure thee; delay thisannouncement a couple of days. There is need of great caution with gifts from Phœnicia.”
“Holiness,” put in Hiram, “thou mayst even burn these letters. I am in no way concerned with them.”
The pharaoh thought a while, then hid the package in his bosom.
“What hast thou heard in Lower Egypt?” inquired the sovereign.
“They are beating Phœnicians at all points,” replied Hiram. “Our houses are wrecked, our effects stolen, and a number of tens of Phœnicians are slain.”
“I have heard. This is the work of the priests,” said the pharaoh.
“Say, rather, my son, that it comes of the godlessness and extortion of Phœnicians,” interrupted Queen Nikotris.
“For three days the chief of police from Pi-Bast is in Memphis with two assistants, and they are on the trail of the murderer and deceiver Lykon—”
“Who was hidden in Phœnician temples!” cried Nikotris.
“Lykon,” continued Hiram, “whom the high priest Mefres stole from the police and the courts—Lykon, who in Thebes ran naked through the garden as a maniac, counterfeiting thee, holiness.”
“What dost thou tell me?” cried the pharaoh.
“Holiness, ask the most revered queen if she saw him,” answered Hiram.
Rameses looked in confusion at his mother.
“Yes,” said she. “I saw that wretch, but I said nothing so as to spare thee pain. I must explain, however, that no one has proof that Lykon was put there by the priests, for the Phœnicians might have done that as well.”
Hiram laughed sneeringly.
“O mother, mother!” cried Rameses, with sorrow. “Is it possible that the priests are dearer to thy heart than I am?”
“Thou art my son and most precious sovereign,” said the queen with enthusiasm, “but I cannot suffer a stranger, an infidel, to cast calumny on the holy order of the priests from which we are both descended. O Rameses,” exclaimed she, falling on her knees, “expel these wicked counsellors whourge thee to insult temples, and raise thy hand against the successor of thy grandsire, Amenhôtep. There is still time for agreement, still time to save Egypt.”
All at once, Pentuer, in torn garments, entered the chamber.
“Well, and what hast thou to say?” inquired the pharaoh, with wonderful calmness.
“To-day, perhaps immediately, there will be an eclipse of the sun.”
The pharaoh started back in astonishment.
“How does an eclipse of the sun concern me, especially at this moment?”
“Lord,” said Pentuer, “I thought the same till I read in old chronicles of eclipses. An eclipse is such a terrifying spectacle that it was necessary to forewarn the whole people of it—”
“That is the truth!” interrupted Hiram.
“Why didst thou not inform earlier?” inquired Tutmosis.
“The warriors kept me in prison two days. We cannot forewarn the people now, but at least inform the troops at the palace, so that they, too, should not give way to panic.”
Rameses clapped his hands.
“Ah, it is too bad!” whispered he, and added aloud. “When will it be, and what will take place?”
“Day will become night,” said Pentuer. “This will last as much time, perhaps, as is needed in walking five hundred yards. It will begin at midday, so Menes told me.”
“Menes,” repeated the pharaoh, “I know that name.”
“He wrote thee a letter concerning it, holiness. But let the army know.”
Straightway they sounded the trumpets; the guard and the Asiatics were drawn out under arms, and the pharaoh, surrounded by his staff, informed the troops of the eclipse, telling them not to be alarmed, that it would pass soon, and that he would be with them.
“Live through eternity!” answered the armed ranks.
At the same time a number of the best riders were sent to Memphis.
The generals took their places at the head of the columns, the pharaoh walked through the court thoughtfully, the civilianswhispered with Hiram; Queen Nikotris, left alone in the chamber, fell on her face before the statue of Osiris.
It was after one. The light of the sun began to lessen.
“Will night come in fact?” asked the pharaoh of Pentuer.
“It will come, but during a very short interval.”
“Where will the sun be?”
“It will hide behind the moon.”
“I must restore to my favor the sages who investigate stars,” said the pharaoh to himself.
The darkness increased quickly. The horses of the Asiatics grew restive, flocks of birds flew into the garden, and occupied all the trees, with noisy twitter.
“Rouse up!” cried Kalippos to the Greeks.
The drums beat, the flutes sounded, and to this accompaniment the Greek soldiers sang a dancing song of the priest’s daughter who was so timid that she could sleep only in the barracks.
Meanwhile an ominous shade fell on the tawny Libyan hills, and covered Memphis, the Nile, and the palace gardens with lightning swiftness. Night embraced the earth, and in the heavens appeared a ball as black as coal surrounded by a rim of brightness.
An immense uproar drowned the song of the Greek regiment. This was caused by the Asiatics, who raised a military shout as they sent a cloud of arrows toward the sky to frighten the evil spirit which was gulping the sun down.
“Dost say that that black ball is the moon?” inquired the pharaoh of Pentuer.
“That is what Menes asserts.”
“He is a great sage! And will the darkness end soon?”
“To a certainty.”
“And if this moon should tear itself away and fall to the earth?”
“That cannot be. Here is the sun!” cried Pentuer, with delight.
The assembled regiments raised a shout in honor of Rameses XIII.
The pharaoh embraced Pentuer. “Indeed,” said he, “we have seen a most wonderful event. But I should not like tosee it a second time. I feel that if I had not been a warrior fear would have mastered me.”
Hiram approached Tutmosis, and whispered,—
“Send couriers, worthiness, to Memphis immediately, for I fear that the high priests have done something evil.”
“Dost thou think so?”
Hiram nodded.
“They would not have managed the kingdom so long,” said he, “they would not have buried eighteen dynasties if they had not known how to use events like the present.”
When Rameses had thanked the troops for good bearing in presence of the strange phenomenon, he returned to his villa. He continued thoughtful, he spoke calmly, even mildly, but on his shapely face doubt was evident.
In the pharaoh’s soul there was indeed a grievous struggle. He had begun to understand that the priests possessed powers which he not only had not weighed, but had not noted; he had not even wished to hear of them. In a few moments the priests who followed the movements of stars rose in his eyes immensely, and he said to himself that in every case he should learn this wonderful wisdom which confuses people’s plans so terribly.
Courier after courier flew from the palace to Memphis to learn what had happened during the eclipse. But the couriers did not return, and uncertainty spread its black wings above the retinue of the pharaoh. No one doubted that something evil had happened at the temple of Ptah. More than that, no man dared to draw his own conclusions. It seemed as though the pharaoh and his intimate counsellors were glad when a minute passed without tidings. Meanwhile Queen Nikotris sat down at the pharaoh’s side, and whispered,—
“Let me act, Rameses. Women have served this state more than once. Only remember Queen Nikotris in the sixth dynasty, or Makara who created a fleet on the Red Sea. In our sex there is no lack of mind or of energy, so let me act. If the temple of Ptah is not taken, and the priests are not wronged I will reconcile thee with Herhor. Thou wilt take his daughter as wife, and thy reign will be full of glory. Remember that thy grandfather, the holy Amenhôtep, wasalso a high priest and a viceroy of the pharaoh, and thou thyself, who knows if thou wouldst be reigning to-day, had the holy order of the priests not desired to have its own blood on the throne. Art thou, too, not obliged to them for dominion?”
The pharaoh as he listened to her, thought all the time that the wisdom of the priests was an immense power, and the struggle with them difficult.
Only about three in the afternoon did the first courier arrive from Memphis, an adjutant of the regiment which had been stationed at the temple. He informed the sovereign that the temple had not been taken because of the anger of the gods; that the people had fled, that the priests were triumphant, and that even in the army disorder had arisen during that brief but terrible darkness.
Then, taking Tutmosis aside, the adjutant declared to him directly that the troops were demoralized; that, because they had fled in a panic, as many were wounded and killed as in a battle.
“What is happening now with the troops?” inquired Tutmosis in consternation.
“Of course,” replied the adjutant, “we were able to rally the men and bring them to order. But we cannot even speak of using them against the temples, especially now when they are occupied with caring for the wounded. At present a warrior is ready to fall to the earth before a shaven head and a panther skin; a long time will pass before any one will dare to cross a sacred gateway.”
“But what are the priests doing?”
“Blessing the warriors, giving food and drink to them, and pretending that the troops are not guilty of attacking the temple; that that was the work of Phœnicians.”
“But do ye permit this demoralization of troops?” exclaimed Tutmosis.
“Well, his holiness commanded us to defend the priests against the multitude. Had we been permitted to occupy the temple we should have done so at ten in the morning, and the high priests now would be sitting in a dungeon.”
At this moment the officer in attendance informed Tutmosisthat again some priest had arrived from Memphis, and desired to speak with his holiness.
Tutmosis looked at the guest. He was a man rather young, with a face as if carved out of wood. He said that he had come to the pharaoh from Samentu.
Rameses received the priest, who prostrated himself and gave the pharaoh a ring, at sight of which his holiness grew pallid.
“What does this mean?” asked he.
“Samentu is no longer alive,” replied the priest.
Rameses could not recover his voice for a time. At last he asked,—
“How has this happened?”
“It appears,” replied the priest, “that Samentu was discovered in one of the halls of the labyrinth, and that he poisoned himself to escape torture. It seems that Mefres discovered him through the aid of a certain Greek, who, as they tell us, resembles thee, holiness.”
“Again Mefres and Lykon!” exclaimed Tutmosis in anger. “O lord,” said he, turning to Rameses, “wilt thou never free thyself from those traitors?”
The pharaoh summoned a confidential council again. He called in Hiram, also the priest who had brought the ring from Samentu. Pentuer did not wish to take part in the council, but the worthy queen went herself to it.
“I see,” whispered Hiram to Tutmosis, “that after the expulsion of priests women are to govern Egypt.”
When the dignitaries had assembled, the pharaoh let Samentu’s messenger speak.
The young priest would not talk of the labyrinth, but he explained sufficiently that the temple of Ptah was undefended, and that a few tens of men would suffice to arrest all who were hiding there.
“This man is a traitor!” screamed the queen. “A priest himself, he persuades thee to violence against the priesthood.”
In the face of the messenger no muscle quivered. “Worthy lady,” replied he, “if Mefres destroyed my guardian and master, Samentu, I should be a dog if I sought not revenge. Death for death!”
“This young man pleases me,” whispered Hiram.
Indeed a fresher air seemed to move in the assembly. Generals straightened themselves; civilians looked at the priest with curiosity; even the pharaoh’s face became livelier.
“Listen not to him, my son,” implored Queen Nikotris.
“What dost thou think,” asked the pharaoh on a sudden; “what would the holy Samentu do now were he living?”
“I am sure,” answered the priest, energetically, “that Samentu would go to the temple of Ptah and burn incense to the gods; but he would punish murderers and traitors.”
“And I repeat that thou art the worst of traitors!” cried the queen.
“I only fulfil my duty,” said the priest, unmoved by her language.
“This man is a pupil of Samentu indeed,” said Hiram. “He alone sees what is left us to do, and sees clearly.”
The military and civil dignitaries recognized the correctness of Hiram’s opinion.
“Since we have begun a struggle with the priests,” said the chief scribe, “we should finish it, and finish it to-day when we have letters proving that Herhor was negotiating with the Assyrians, an act which is high treason against Egypt.”
“He is carrying out the policy of Rameses XII.,” said the queen.
“But I am Rameses XIII.,” said the pharaoh impatiently.
Tutmosis rose from his chair.
“My lord,” said he, “let me act. It is very dangerous to continue uncertainty in the government, and it would be folly and crime not to use this occasion. Since this priest says that the temple is not defended, let me go to it with a handful of men whom I will select.”
“I am with thee!” said Kalippos. “According to my experience, an enemy while triumphant is the weakest. If we attack the temple of Ptah immediately—”
“Ye do not need to attack, but go in there as executives of the pharaoh who commands you to imprison traitors,” said the chief scribe. “Even force is not needed. How often does one policeman rush at a crowd of offenders and seize as many as he wishes.”
“My son,” said the queen, “yields to the pressure of your counsels. But he does not wish force; he forbids you to use it.”
“Ha! if that be the case,” said the young priest of Set, “I will tell his holiness one other thing.” He breathed a couple of times deeply, but still he finished in a stifled voice and with effort. “On the streets of Memphis the party of the priests is announcing, that—”
“That what? Speak boldly,” said the pharaoh.
“That thou, holiness, art insane, that thou hast not the ordination of high priest, that thou art not even made pharaoh, and that—it is possible to exclude thee from the throne.”
“That is just what I feared,” whispered Nikotris.
The pharaoh sprang up from his seat.
“Tutmosis!” cried he, in a voice in which his recovered energy was heard. “Take as many troops as thou wishest; go to the temple of Ptah and bring me Herhor and Mefres, accused of high treason. If they are justified I will return my favor; in the opposite case—”
“Hast thou finished?” interrupted the queen.
This time the indignant pharaoh did not answer her, and the officials cried,—
“Death to traitors! When has it begun that in Egypt a pharaoh must sacrifice faithful servants to beg for himself the favor of scoundrels?”
Rameses XIII. confided to Tutmosis the package of letters of Herhor to Assyria, and said in a solemn voice,—
“Till the rebellion of the priests is suppressed, I place my power in the person of Tutmosis, commander of the guards. And do ye listen to him, and do thou, worthy mother, go with thy judgments to him?”
“Wisely and justly has the sovereign acted!” exclaimed the chief scribe. “It does not become a pharaoh to struggle with sedition, and a lack of firm rule might destroy us.”
All the dignitaries inclined before Tutmosis. Queen Nikotris fell at her son’s feet.
Tutmosis, in company with the generals, went out to the court. He commanded the first regiment of the guard to form, and said,—
“I need a few tens of men who are ready to die for the glory of our lord.”
More presented themselves, both men and officers, than were needed, and at the head of them Eunana.
“Are ye prepared for death?” inquired Tutmosis.
“We will die with thee, lord, for his holiness!” exclaimed Eunana.
“Ye will not die, but ye will overcome vile criminals,” replied Tutmosis. “Soldiers belonging to this expedition will become officers, and officers will be advanced two degrees. I say this to you, I, Tutmosis, supreme chief by the will of the pharaoh.”
“Live thou forever!”
Tutmosis commanded to prepare twenty-five two-wheeled chariots of the heavy cavalry, and ordered the volunteers to enter. Then he with Kalippos mounted their horses, and soon the whole retinue turned toward Memphis and vanished in a dust cloud.
When Hiram saw this from the window of a villa, he bowed before the pharaoh and whispered,—
“Now for the first time I believe that thou art not in conspiracy with the high priests.”
“Wert thou mad?” burst out the pharaoh.
“Pardon, sovereign, but the attack on the temple to-day was planned by the priests. How they drew thee into it, holiness, I do not understand to this moment.”
It was five in the afternoon.
AT that same hour to a minute, the priest, watching on the pylon of the temple of Ptah in Memphis, informed the high priests and nomarchs counselling in the hall, that the palace of the pharaoh was giving some signals.
“It seems that his holiness will beg us for peace,” said one of the nomarchs, smiling.
“I doubt that!” answered Mefres.
Herhor ascended the pylon, for they were signalling tohim from the palace. Soon he returned and said to those assembled:
“Our young priest has managed very well. At this moment Tutmosis is advancing with some tens of volunteers to imprison or slay us.”
“And wilt thou dare still to defend Rameses?” cried Mefres.
“I must and will defend him, for I swore solemnly to the queen that I would. Were it not for the worthy daughter of the holy Amenhôtep, our position to-day would not be what it is.”
“Well, but I have not sworn,” replied Mefres, and he left the hall.
“What does he wish?” asked one of the nomarchs.
“He is an old man grown childish,” replied Herhor, shrugging his shoulders.
Before six o’clock in the evening a division of the guard approached the temple of Ptah unhindered, and the leader of it knocked at the gate, which was opened immediately. This was Tutmosis with his volunteers.
When the chief entered the temple court he was astonished to see Herhor in the mitre of Amenhôtep, and surrounded only by priests come out to meet him.
“What dost thou wish, my son?” asked the high priest of the chief, who was somewhat confused by the meeting.
Tutmosis mastered himself quickly, and said,—
“Herhor, high priest of Amon in Thebes, because of letters which thou hast written to Sargon, the Assyrian satrap, which letters I have with me, thou art accused of high treason to the state, and must justify thyself before the pharaoh.”
“If the young lord,” answered Herhor calmly, “wishes to learn the object of the policy of the eternally living Rameses XII., let him apply to our Supreme Council and he will receive explanations.”
“I summon thee to follow me at once, unless thou wish that I should force thee,” continued Tutmosis.
“My son, I implore the gods to preserve thee from violence, and from the punishment which thou deservest.”
“Wilt thou go?” asked Tutmosis.
“I wait here for Rameses,” answered Herhor.
“Well, then, remain here, trickster!” cried Tutmosis.
He drew his sword and rushed at Herhor.
At that instant Eunana, who was standing behind the chief, raised an axe and struck Tutmosis with all his might between the neck and the right shoulder blade, so that the blood spurted in every direction. The favorite of the pharaoh fell to the earth almost cut in two.
Some of the warriors with levelled spears rushed at Eunana, but they fell after a brief struggle with their own comrades. Of the volunteers, three-fourths were in the pay of the priesthood.
“May he live, his holiness Herhor, our lord!” cried Eunana, waving his bloody axe.
“May he live through eternity!” repeated the warriors and priests, and all fell on their faces.
The most worthy Herhor raised his hands and blessed them.
On leaving the court of the temple, Mefres went to the underground chamber to Lykon. The high priest at the very threshold drew from his bosom a crystal ball, at the sight of which the Greek fell into anger.
“Would that the earth swallowed you! Would that your corpses might know no rest!” said Lykon, abusing him in a voice which grew lower and lower.
At last he was silent and fell into a trance.
“Take this dagger,” said Mefres, giving the Greek a slender steel blade. “Take this dagger and go to the palace garden. Halt there at the clump of fig trees and wait for him who deprived thee of Kama, and took her away.”
Lykon gritted his teeth in helpless rage.
“And when thou seest him, wake,” concluded Mefres.
He threw over the Greek an officer’s mantle with a cowl, whispered the password into his ear and led him forth to the empty streets of Memphis through a secret door of the temple.
Then Mefres ran with the celerity of youth to the summit of the pylon, and taking in his hand some banners, made signals toward the palace. They saw and understood him, that was evident, for a bitter smile came to the parchment-like face of the high priest.
Mefres put down the banners, left the summit of the pylon and descended slowly. When he reached the pavement he wassurrounded by some men in light brown tunics, which were covered by coats in white and black stripes.
“Here is the most worthy Mefres,” said one of them. And all three knelt before the high priest, who raised his hand mechanically, as if to bless them. But he dropped it suddenly, inquiring, “Who are ye?”
“Overseers of the labyrinth.”
“Why have ye barred the way to me?” asked he, and his hand and thin lips began to tremble.
“We need not remind thee, holy man,” said one of the overseers still kneeling, “that some days ago thou wert in the labyrinth, to which thou knowest the way as well as we, though thou art uninitiated. Thou art too great a sage not to know what our law is in such a case.”
“What does this mean?” exclaimed Mefres in a raised voice. “Ye are murderers sent by Her—”
He did not finish. One of the men seized him by the arms, another passed a kerchief over his head, and a third threw a transparent liquid over his face. Mefres struggled a number of times, and fell. They sprinkled him again. When he was dead they placed him in a niche, pushed into his dead hand a papyrus, and vanished.
Three men dressed similarly chased after Lykon almost the instant that he was pushed out of the temple by Mefres and found himself on the empty street. The men had hidden not far from the door through which the Greek issued, and at first let him pass freely. But soon one of them noted something suspicious in his hand, so they followed.
A wonderful thing! Lykon though in a trance felt, as it were, the pursuit; he turned quickly into a street full of movement, then to a square where a multitude of people were circling about, and then ran to the Nile by Fisher Street. There, at the end of some alley, he found a small boat, sprang into it and began to cross the river with a speed which was remarkable.
He was a couple of hundred yards from the shore when a boat pushed out after him with one rower and three passengers. Barely had these left land when a second boat appeared with two rowers and three passengers also.
Both boats pursued Lykon with stubbornness. In that whichhad only one rower sat the overseers of the labyrinth, looking diligently at their rivals, as far as was permitted by the darkness, which came soon after sundown.
“Who are those three?” whispered they among themselves. “Since the day before yesterday they have been lurking around the temple, and to-day they are pursuing Lykon. Do they wish to protect him from us?”
Lykon’s small boat reached the other shore. The Greek sprang from it and went swiftly toward the palace garden. Sometimes he staggered, stopped, and seized his head, but after an instant he went forward again, as if drawn by some incomprehensible attraction.
The overseers of the labyrinth landed also, but they were preceded by their rivals.
And a race began which was unique in its kind: Lykon was hurrying toward the palace, like a swift runner; after him were the three unknown men, and the three overseers of the labyrinth.
A few hundred steps from the garden the pursuing groups came together. It was night then, but clear.
“Who are ye?” asked one of the labyrinth men of the others.
“I am the chief of police in Pi-Bast, and, with my centurions, am pursuing a great criminal,” answered one of them.
“We are overseers of the labyrinth and are following the same person.”
The groups looked at each other with hands on their swords or knives.
“What will ye do with him?” asked the chief of police.
“We have a sentence against the man.”
“But will ye leave the body?”
“With all that is on it,” replied the elder overseer.
The police whispered among themselves.
“If ye tell the truth,” said the chief at last, “we shall not hinder you. On the contrary, we will lend him to you for a while, as he will fall into our hands later.”
“Do ye swear?”
“We swear.”
“Then we may go together.”
So they joined forces, but the Greek had vanished.
“Curses on him!” cried the chief of police. “He has escaped again!”
“He will be found,” answered the overseer of the labyrinth, “or perhaps even he will return.”
“Why should he go to the pharaoh’s garden?” asked the chief of police.
“The high priests are using him for some purpose of their own, but he will return to the temple.”
They decided to wait and act in common.
“We are spending the third night for nothing,” said one of the policemen, yawning.
They wrapped themselves in their cloaks and lay on the grass.
Immediately after the departure of Tutmosis, the worthy lady Nikotris, in silence, with lips tightly closed from anger, left the chamber of her son, and when Rameses wished to calm her, she interrupted him sharply,—
“I take leave of the pharaoh, and pray the gods to permit me to see him to-morrow as pharaoh.”
“Dost thou doubt that, mother?”
“It is possible to doubt everything in presence of one who listens to madmen and traitors.”
They parted in anger.
Soon his holiness recovered good-humor and conversed joyously with the officials. But about six o’clock alarm began to torment him.
“Tutmosis ought to send us a courier,” said he. “For I am certain that the affair is already settled in one or another way.”
“I do not know that,” said the chief treasurer. “They may not have found boats at the crossing. There may have been resistance at the temple.”
“But where is that young priest?” asked Hiram on a sudden.
“The priest? The messenger of the late Samentu?” repeated the officials in concern. “That is true—where can he be?”
Men were sent to search the garden. They searched every path, but there was no priest.
This circumstance made a bad impression on the dignitaries. Each one sat in silence, sunk in alarming thoughts.
About sundown the pharaoh’s chamber servant entered and whispered that the lady Hebron was very ill, and implored his holiness to visit her.
The officials, knowing the relations between their lord and the beautiful Hebron, looked at one another. But when the pharaoh announced his purpose of going into the garden they made no protest. The garden, thanks to numerous guards, was as safe as the palace. No one considered it proper to watch over the pharaoh even from a distance, knowing that Rameses did not wish any one to be occupied with him at certain moments.
When he disappeared, the chief scribe said to the treasurer,—
“Time drags on like a chariot in the desert. Perhaps Hebron has some news from Tutmosis.”
“At this moment,” answered the treasurer, “his expedition with a few tens of men to the temple of Ptah seems to me inconceivable madness!”
“But did the pharaoh act more wisely at the Soda Lakes when he chased all night after Tehenna?” put in Hiram. “Daring means more than numbers.”
“But that young priest?” asked the treasurer.
“He came without our knowledge and went without leave,” added Hiram. “Each one of us acts like a conspirator.”
The treasurer shook his head.
Rameses passed the space between his villa and that of Tutmosis quickly. When he entered her chamber Hebron threw herself on his neck with weeping.
“I am dying of fear!” cried she.
“Art thou alarmed for Tutmosis?”
“What is Tutmosis to me?” answered Hebron, with a contemptuous grimace. “I care for thee only! Of thee only am I thinking,—I am alarmed for thee!”
“Blessed be thy alarm which freed me even for a moment from tedium,” said the pharaoh, laughing. “O gods! what a day! If thou hadst heard our discussions, if thou hadst seen the faces of our counsellors! And in addition to all, it pleased the worthy queen to honor our assembly with herpresence. Never had I supposed that the dignity of pharaoh could be so annoying.”
“Do not say this audibly,” cautioned Hebron. “What wilt thou do if Tutmosis does not succeed in seizing the temple?”
“I will take the leadership from him, hide my crown in a box, and put on an officer’s helmet,” answered Rameses. “I am certain that when I appear at the head of the troops myself the sedition will vanish.”
“Which one?” inquired Hebron.
“Ah, true, we have two,” laughed Rameses. “That of the people against the priests, that of the priests against me.”
He seized Hebron in his arms and went toward the couch whispering,—
“How beautiful thou art to-day! Each time I see thee thou art different,—each time more beautiful than ever.”
“Let me go,” whispered Hebron. “At times I am afraid that thou wilt bite me.”
“Bite?—No! But I might kiss thee to death. Thou dost not even suspect thy own beauty.”
“I am beautiful in comparison with ministers and generals. But free me.”
“In thy presence I should wish to be like a pomegranate. I should wish to have as many arms as the tree has branches, so as to embrace thee with all of them,—as many hands as it has leaves, and as many lips as it has flowers, so as to kiss thy lips, eyes, and bosom at once with them.”
“Thou hast a mind marvellously free of care for a sovereign whose throne is in peril.”
“On the couch, I do not care for a throne. While I have a sword I shall have power.”
“Thy troops are scattered,” said Hebron, defending herself.
“To-morrow fresh troops will come, and after to-morrow I shall gather the scattered ones. I repeat to thee be not occupied with trifles. One moment of fondling is worth more than a year of dominion.”
One hour after sunset the pharaoh left Hebron’s villa and returned slowly to his palace. He was full of imaginings, he was dreamy, and he thought the high priests were great foolsto resist him. Since Egypt became Egypt there had not been a kindlier pharaoh.
All at once, from out a clump of fig trees sprang a man in a dark mantle, and barred the road to Rameses. The pharaoh, to see the man better, approached his face to the face of the stranger and cried suddenly,—
“O wretch, is it thou? Go to the guard house!”
It was Lykon. Rameses seized him by the neck; the Greek hissed and knelt on the ground. At the same moment the pharaoh felt a sharp pain in the left side of his stomach.
“Dost thou bite too?” cried Rameses. He seized the Greek with both hands, and when he heard the cracking of his broken spine he hurled him off in disgust.
Lykon fell quivering in the convulsions of death.
The pharaoh moved back a couple of steps. He examined his body and discovered the handle of a dagger.
“He has wounded me!”
He drew the slender steel from his side and pressed the wound.
“I wonder,” thought he, “if any of my counsellors has a plaster?” He felt weak and hurried forward. Right at the palace one of the officers stood before him and said, “Tutmosis is dead; the traitor Eunana slew him.”
“Eunana?” repeated the pharaoh. “But what of the others?”
“Almost all the volunteers who went with Tutmosis were sold to the priests.”
“Well, I must finish this!” said Rameses. “Sound the trumpets for the Asiatic regiments.”
The trumpets sounded, and the Asiatics hurried from the barracks, leading their horses.
“Give me my steed!” said the pharaoh. But he felt a sudden dizziness and added, “No, give me a litter, I should tire myself.”
All at once he tottered into the arms of the officers.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” said Rameses in a dying voice. “Bring my helmet and sword—that steel sword—from the Soda—. Let us go to Memphis—”
Officials and servants ran out of the villa with torches. Thepharaoh was supported by officers, his face was pale and his eyes were mist-covered. He stretched forth his hand as if seeking his breastplate, his lips moved, and amid general silence the lord of two worlds, the temporal and the western, breathed his life out.
The dove-eyed goddess Astaroth had avenged the wrong done her priestess.
FROM the death of Rameses XIII. till the day of his burial the state was governed by the most worthy San-Amen-Herhor as high priest of the Theban Amon, and viceroy of the late pharaoh.
The government of the viceroy, lasting some months, was very prosperous for Egypt. Herhor pacified the outbreaks of the people, and, in accordance with former times, he gave the seventh day for rest to the working man. He introduced stern discipline among the priests; he extended protection to foreigners, especially Phœnicians, and concluded a treaty with Assyria, not yielding Phœnicia, however, which remained tributary to Egypt.
In the course of this short government, justice was meted out quickly, but without cruelty, and this or that man did not dare to beat an Egyptian laborer, who had the right to appeal to a court if he had time sufficient and witnesses.
Herhor occupied himself too in paying the debts which weighed on the lands of the state and the pharaoh. With this object he persuaded the Phœnicians to resign a certain part of the sums due them from the treasury, and to cover the rest he drew from the labyrinth the enormous sum of thirty thousand talents.
Thanks to these measures, in the course of three months peace and prosperity were established in Egypt.
“May the rule of the viceroy, San-Amen-Herhor be blessed!” said the people. “Indeed the gods predestined him to power so as to free Egypt from misfortunes brought on by Rameses XIII., who was a woman-hunter and frivolous.”
A few days sufficed the people to forget that all Herhor’sacts were merely the accomplishment of plans made by the young and lofty-minded pharaoh.
In the month Tobi, when the mummy of Rameses XIII. was placed in its tomb, a great assembly of the most important personages met in the temple of Amon. There were present almost all the high priests, nomarchs, and generals of troops, and among them, covered with glory, was the gray-haired chief of the eastern army, Nitager.
In this same gigantic hall of columns, where half a year earlier the priests had judged Rameses XII., and shown dislike for Rameses XIII., those dignitaries assembled to settle the most important question of state, under the presidency of Herhor. On the 25th of Tobi, exactly at noon, Herhor, in the mitre of Amenhôtep, sat on the throne; others sat in armchairs, and the council took place.
It was of wonderfully short duration, just as if the result had been arranged previously.
“High priests, nomarchs, and leaders,” began Herhor. “We have assembled here on sad and important business. With the death of the eternally living Rameses XIII., whose short and stormy reign ended in a manner so unfortunate—” Here Herhor sighed.
“With Rameses XIII. perished not only a pharaoh, but the twentieth dynasty, which was full of glory.”
Among those present rose a murmur.
“The dynasty has not ended,” interrupted the powerful nomarch of Memphis, almost harshly. “The worthy Queen Nikotris is still living, therefore the throne belongs to her.”
After a time Herhor answered: “My most worthy consort, Queen Nikotris—”
Now in the assembly was heard, not a murmur, but a cry, and it lasted a number of minutes. When it ceased Herhor continued calmly and with emphasis:—
“My most worthy consort, Queen Nikotris, inconsolable through sorrow for her son, has abdicated the throne—”
“Permit!” exclaimed the nomarch of Memphis. “The most worthy viceroy has called the queen his consort. This intelligence is entirely new, and, first of all it must be verified.”
At a sign from Herhor the judge of Thebes drew out an actconcluded two days before between the most worthy high priest of Amon, San-Amen-Herhor, and Queen Nikotris, widow of Rameses XII., and mother of Rameses XIII.
After this explanation came a grave-like silence. Herhor began again,—
“Since my consort, who is the only heir to the throne, has abdicated, the reign of the twentieth dynasty is ended; we must choose a new sovereign.
“This sovereign,” continued Herhor, “should be a man of ripe years, energetic, and skilled in government. For this reason I advise you to choose for the highest position—”
“Herhor!” cried some one.
“The most famous Nitager, the leader of the eastern army,” finished Herhor.
Nitager sat a long time with closed eyes, smiling. At last he rose, and said,—
“Never will there be a lack of men eager for the title of pharaoh. We have more of them perhaps than are needed. Luckily, the gods themselves, in setting aside useless rivals, have indicated a man most worthy of power, and it seems to me that I shall act wisely if, instead of receiving the crown offered me graciously, I answer,—
“May he live through eternity, his holiness, San-Amen-Herhor, the first pharaoh of a new dynasty!”
Those present, with few exceptions, repeated the shout, and at the same time the supreme judge brought on a golden tray two caps: the white one of Upper, and the red one of Lower Egypt. One of these was taken by the high priest of Osiris, the other by the high priest of Horns, and they delivered them to Herhor, who, when he had kissed the golden serpent, put them both on his head.
Then those present began the ceremony of offering homage, which lasted a couple of hours. After that a proper act was written; those who took part in the election placed their seals on it, and from that moment San-Amen-Herhor was the real pharaoh, the lord of both worlds, also of the life and death of his subjects.
Toward evening his holiness returned wearied to his chambers of a high priest, where he found Pentuer, who had grownthin, and on whose emaciated face weariness and sadness were evident.
When Pentuer prostrated himself the pharaoh raised him and said with a smile,—
“Thou didst not sign my election, thou didst not give me homage, and I fear that I shall have to arrest thee some time in the temple of Ptah. Well, hast thou been thinking to leave me? Dost prefer Menes?”
“Forgive, holiness,” answered the priest, “but court life has so wearied me that my only desire is to learn wisdom.”
“Thou canst not forget Rameses?” inquired Herhor. “And yet thou knewest him only a very short time, while thou hast labored with me during years.”
“Blame me not, holiness, but—Rameses XIII. was the first pharaoh to commiserate the Egyptian people.”
Herhor smiled.
“O ye learned men,” said he, shaking his head. “But it was thou who didst turn the attention of Rameses to the people, and now thou bearest mourning for him in thy heart, though he did nothing whatever for the people. It was thou who commiserated, not he. Ye are strange men, in spite of your powerful minds,” continued Herhor. “It is the same thing with Menes. That priest considers that he is the most peaceful man in Egypt, though it was he who overturned the dynasty and smoothed the road to power for me. Were it not for his letter about the eclipse of the sun on the 20th of Paofi, perhaps I and the late Mefres would be splitting stones now in the quarries.
“Well, go; go and greet Menes for me. Remember also that I know how to be thankful, which is the great secret of ruling. Tell Menes that I shall carry out every wish of his, unless he asks me, for example, to abdicate. Return to me when thou hast rested, I will keep an important place for thee.”
And he touched Pentuer’s head, which was inclined submissively.