Tutmosis prostrated himself before the noble ruler, and took the road straightway. The retinue of Rameses, unable to divine the conversation, envied Tutmosis the favor of the viceroy, while the worthy Ranuzer felt alarm rising in his soul.
“Oh,” said he, anxiously, “may I not need to raise hands on myself and leave my house in the bloom of my years! Why did I, the unfortunate, when taking the pharaoh’s goods, not think of the hour of trial?”
His face became yellow, and his legs tottered under him. But the prince, mastered by a wave of reminiscences, took no note of this change in the nomarch.
IN the city of Anu a series of feasts and amusements now followed. The worthy nomarch brought the choicest wines from his cellars; from the three neighboring provinces came the most beautiful dancers, the most famous musicians, the adroitest of jugglers. The prince’s time was occupied thoroughly,—every morning reviews of troops and receptions; later feasts, spectacles, hunting, and feasts again.
But just when Ranuzer felt certain that the viceroy was tired of questions of administration and economy, the latter summoned him, and asked,—
“Thy province, worthiness, is among the richest in Egypt, is it not?”
“Yes, though we have had a number of hard years,” replied Ranuzer; and again his heart sank and his legs began to tremble.
“But this astonishes me,” said the prince, “that year after year the income of his holiness decreases. Canst thou not explain to me the cause of this?”
“Lord,” said the nomarch, bending his head to the earth, “I see that my enemies have sown distrust in thy soul; whatever I might say, therefore, would not convince thee. Permit me not to speak. Better let scribes come with documents, which thou canst touch with thy hand and verify.”
The prince was somewhat astonished at the unexpected outburst, but he accepted the offer; nay, he was glad of it. He thought, of course, that the report of these scribes would explain to him the secret of government.
The next day, therefore, came the chief scribe of Hak, and with him his assistants. They brought from ten to twenty rolls of papyrus written on both sides. When unwound, they formed a strip three spans of a great hand in width and in length sixty paces. For the first time the prince saw so gigantic a document, containing an inventory of one province only and that for one year.
The chief scribe sat on the floor with his legs doubled under him, and began,—
“In the thirty-third year of the reign of his holiness Mer-Amen-Rameses the Nile was late in its overflow. Earth-tillers, ascribing this misfortune to the black art of foreigners resident in the province of Hak, fell to wrecking the houses of Hittites, Jews, and Phœnicians, during which time a number of persons were slain by them. At command of his worthiness the nomarch, those guilty were brought to the court; twenty-five earth-tillers, two masons, and five sandal-makers were condemned to the quarries, one boatman was strangled—”
“What is that document?” interrupted the prince.
“It is the report of the court intended for the feet of his holiness.”
“Put it aside, and read about the income of the treasury.”
The assistants of the chief scribe folded the rejected document, and gave him others. Again the official began,—
“On the fifth day of the month Thoth six hundred measures of wheat were brought to the granaries of the pharaoh; for these a receipt was issued by the chief overseer.
“On the seventh day of Thoth the chief scribe discovered and verified a statement that from the supply of the previous year one hundred and forty-eight measures of wheat had vanished.During the verification two laborers stole a measure of grain and hid it among bricks. When this was proven they were brought to judgment and sent to the quarries for raising their hands to the property of his holiness.”
“But the hundred and forty-eight measures?” asked the heir.
“The mice ate them,” replied the scribe, and read on.
“On the eighth day of Thoth twenty cows and eighty-four sheep were sent to the slaughter; these, at command of the overseer of oxen, were issued to the Sparrow-Hawk regiment.”
In this manner the viceroy learned day after day how much wheat, barley, beans, and lotus seed were weighed into the granaries, how much given out to the mills, how much stolen, and how many laborers were condemned to the quarries for stealing. The report was so wearisome and chaotic that in the middle of the month Paofi the prince gave command to stop reading.
“Tell me, chief scribe,” said Rameses, “what dost thou understand from this? What dost thou learn from it?”
“Everything which thy worthiness commands.”
And he began again at the beginning, but from memory,—
“On the fifth of the month Thoth they brought to the granaries of the pharaoh—”
“Enough!” cried the enraged prince; and he commanded the man to depart.
The scribes fell on their faces, gathered up their papyruses quickly, and bore them away in a twinkle.
The prince summoned the nomarch. He came with crossed hands, but with a calm face, for he had learned from the scribes that the viceroy could understand nothing from reports, and that he did not give ear to them.
“Tell me, worthiness,” began the heir, “do they read reports to thee?”
“Every day.”
“And dost thou understand them?”
“Pardon, most worthy lord, but—could I manage a province if I did not understand?”
The prince was confused and fell to thinking. Could it be really that he, Rameses, was the only incompetent? But in this case what would become of his power?
“Sit down,” said he, after a while, indicating a chair to the nomarch. “Sit down and tell me how thou governest the province.”
The dignitary grew pale, and the whites of his eyes turned upward. Rameses noticed this, and began explaining,—
“Do not think that I have not trust in thy wisdom. On the contrary, I know no man who could manage better. But I am young and curious to know the art of government, so I beg thee to deal out to me crumbs of thy knowledge. Thou art ruling the province—I know that. Now explain to me the process.”
The nomarch drew breath and began,—
“I will relate, worthiness, the whole course of my life, so thou shalt know how weighty my work is.
“In the morning I bathe, then I give offerings to the god Amut; next I summon the treasurer, and ask him whether the taxes for his holiness are collected properly. When he answers yes, I praise him; when he says that these and those people have not paid, I issue an order to imprison the disobedient. Then I summon the overseers of the royal granaries, to learn how much grain has been delivered. If much, I praise them; if little, I issue an order to inflict stripes on the guilty.
“Later comes the chief scribe, and tells me which of the estates of his holiness needs troops, officials, and laborers, and I command to send them in return for a receipt. When he gives out less, I praise him; when more, I commence an investigation.
“In the afternoon come Phœnician merchants, to whom I sell wheat and bring money to the treasury of the pharaoh. Afterward I pray and confirm the sentences of the court; toward evening the police inform me of what has happened. No longer ago than the day before yesterday people from my province fell upon the territory Ka and desecrated a statue of the god Sebak. I was delighted in heart, for that god is not our patron; still I condemned some of the guilty to strangulation, some of them to the quarries, and all to receive stripes.
“Hence peace and good habits prevail in my province, and the taxes flow in daily.”
“Though the income of the pharaoh has decreased here also,” added Rameses.
“Thou speakest truth, lord,” sighed the worthy nomarch. “The priests say that the gods are angry with Egypt because of the influx of foreigners; but I see that even the gods do not contemn gold and precious stones brought by Phœnicians.”
At that moment the priest Mentezufis, preceded by an officer in waiting, entered the hall to beg the prince and the nomarch to a public devotion. Both dignitaries consented, and the nomarch exhibited so much piety that the prince was astonished. When Ranuzer left the company with obeisances, Rameses said to the priest,—
“Since with me, holy prophet, thou takest the place of the most venerable Herhor, I beg thee to explain one thing which fills my heart with anxiety—”
“Shall I be able to explain?” asked the prophet.
“Thou wilt answer me, for thou art filled with wisdom, of which thou art the servant. But consider what I say— Thou knowest why his holiness sent me hither.”
“He sent thee, prince, to become familiar with the wealth of the country and its institutions,” said Mentezufis.
“I am obeying. I examine the nomarchs, I look at the country and the people. I listen to reports of scribes, but I understand nothing; this poisons my life and astounds me.
“When I have to do with the army, I know everything,—how many soldiers there are, how many horses, chariots, which officers drink or neglect their service, and which do their duty. I know, too, what to do with an army. When on a plain there is a hostile corps, I must take two corps to beat it. If the enemy is in a defensive position, I should not move without three corps. When the enemy is undisciplined and fights in unordered crowds against a thousand, I send five hundred of our soldiers and beat him. When the opposing side has a thousand men with axes, and I a thousand, I rush at them and finish those troops, if I have a hundred men with slings in addition.
“In the army, holy father,” continued Rameses, “everything is as visible as the fingers on my hand, and to every question an answer is ready which my mind comprehends. Meanwhile in the management of a province I not only see nothing, but there is such confusion in my head that more than once I forget the object of my journey.
“Answer me, therefore, sincerely, as a priest and an officer: What does this mean? Are the nomarchs deceiving me, or am I incompetent?”
The holy prophet fell to thinking.
“Whether they attempt to deceive thee, worthiness,” answered he, “I know not, for I have not examined their acts. It seems to me, however, that they explain nothing, because they themselves comprehend nothing. The nomarchs and their scribes,” continued the priest, “are like decurions in an army; each one knows his ten men and reports on them. Each commands those under him. But the decurion knows not the general plan made by leaders of the army. The nomarchs and the scribes write down everything that happens in their province, and lay those reports at the feet of the pharaoh. But only the supreme council extracts from them the honey of wisdom.”
“But that honey is just what I need,” said the prince. “Why do I not get it?”
Mentezufis shook his head.
“Wisdom of the state,” said he, “belongs to the priesthood; therefore only the man who is devoted to the gods can obtain it. Meanwhile, worthiness, though reared by priests, thou pushest thyself away from the temples decisively.”
“How is that? Then, if I do not become a priest, will ye not explain to me?”
“There are things, worthiness, which thou mayest know even now, as erpatr, there are others which thou wilt know when thou art the pharaoh. There are still others which only a high priest may know.”
“Every pharaoh is a high priest,” interrupted the prince.
“Not every pharaoh. Besides, even among high priests there are grades of difference.”
“Then,” cried the enraged heir, “ye hide the order of the state from me, and I shall not be able to carry out the commands of my father?”
“What the prince needs may be known,” answered Mentezufis, quietly, “for thou hast the inferior priestly consecration. Those things, however, are hidden behind the veil in temples, which no one will dare to draw aside without due preparation.”
“I will draw it.”
“May the gods defend Egypt from such a misfortune!” replied the priest, as he raised both his hands. “Dost thou not know, worthiness, that a thunderbolt would kill any man who without the needed ceremonies should touch the veil? Were the prince to take to the temple any slave or condemned criminal and let him stretch out his hand, the man would die that same instant.”
“For ye would kill him.”
“Each one of us would die just like an ordinary criminal were he to approach the altar sacrilegiously. In presence of the gods, my prince, a pharaoh or a priest means as little as a slave.”
“What am I to do, then?” asked Rameses.
“Seek an answer to thy trouble in the temple, after thou hast purified thyself by prayers and fasting,” answered the priest. “While Egypt is Egypt, no ruler has gained wisdom of state in another way.”
“I will meditate over this,” said the prince. “Though I see from thy words that the most venerable Mefres, and thou, holy prophet, wish to involve me in ceremonies as ye have involved my father.”
“Not at all. Worthiness, if thou as pharaoh would limit thyself to commanding the army, thou mightst take part in ceremonies a few times a year merely, for on other occasions the high priest would be thy substitute. But if thou wish to learn the secrets of temples, thou must honor the gods, for they are the fountain of wisdom.”
RAMESES saw now that either he would not carry out the commands of the pharaoh or that he must yield to the will of the priesthood; this filled him with dislike and anger. Hence he did not hurry toward the secrets hidden in temples. He had time yet for fasting and devotional exercises; so he took part all the more zealously in feasts which were given in his honor.
Tutmosis, a master in every amusement, had just returned, and brought the prince pleasant news from Sarah. She was in good health and looked well, which concerned Rameses less at that time. But the priests gave such a horoscope to the coming child that the prince was delighted.
They assured him that the child would be a son, greatly gifted by the gods, and if his father loved him he would during life obtain high honor.
The prince laughed at the second part of this prediction. “Their wisdom is wonderful,” said he to Tutmosis. “They know that it will be a son, while I, its father, do not know; and they doubt whether I shall love it, though it is easy to divine that I shall love the child even should it be a daughter. And as to honor for it, let them be at rest; I will occupy myself with that question.”
In the month Pachons (January, February) the heir passed through the province of Ka, where he was received by the nomarch Sofra. The city of Anu lay about seven hours of a foot journey from Atribis, but the prince was three days on this journey. At thought of the fasts and prayers which were awaiting him during initiation into temple secrets, Rameses felt a growing wish for amusements. His retinue divined this; hence pleasure followed pleasure.
Again, on the road over which he travelled to Atribis, appeared throngs of people with shouts, flowers, and music. The enthusiasm reached its height at the city. It even happened that a certain gigantic laborer threw himself under the chariot of the viceroy. But when Rameses held in the horses, a number of young women stepped forth from the crowd and wreathed the whole chariot with flowers.
“Still they love me!” thought the prince.
In the province of Ka he did not ask the nomarch about the income of the pharaoh, he did not visit factories, he did not command to read reports to him; he knew that he would understand nothing, so he deferred those occupations till the time of his initiation. But once, when he saw that the temple of the god Sebak stood on a lofty eminence, he desired to ascend the pylon and examine the surrounding country.
The worthy Sofra accomplished at once the will of the heir,who, when he found himself on the summit of the pylon, passed a couple of hours with great delight there.
The province of Ka was a fertile plain. A number of canals and branches of the Nile passed through it in every direction, like a network of silver and lapis lazuli. Melons and wheat sown in November were ripening. On the fields were crowds of naked people who were gathering cucumbers or planting cotton. The land was covered with small buildings which at points were close together and formed villages.
Most of the dwellings, especially those in the fields, were mud huts covered with straw and palm leaves. In the towns the houses were walled, had flat roofs, and looked like white cubes with holes in places where there were doors and windows. Very often on such a cube was another somewhat smaller, and on that a third still smaller, and each story was painted a different color. Under the fiery sun of Egypt those houses looked like great pearls, sapphires, and rubies, scattered about on the green of the fields, and surrounded by palms and acacias.
From that place Rameses saw a phenomenon which arrested his attention. Near the temples the houses were more beautiful, and more people were moving in the fields about them.
“The lands of the priests are the most valuable,” thought he; and once again he ran over with his eyes the temples great and small, of which he saw between ten and twenty from the pylon.
But since he had agreed with Herhor, and needed the services of the priesthood, he did not care to occupy himself longer with that problem.
In the course of the following days the worthy Sofra arranged a series of hunts for Rameses, setting out toward the east from Atribis. Around the canals they shot birds with arrows; some they snared in an immense net trap which took in a number of tens of them, or they let out falcons against those which were flying at freedom. When the prince’s retinue entered the eastern desert, great hunts began with dogs and panthers against wild beasts. Of these they killed and seized, in the course of some days, a couple of hundred.
When the worthy Sofra noticed that the prince had hadenough of amusement in the open air and of company intents, he ceased hunting and brought his guest by the shortest road to Atribis.
They arrived about four hours after midday, and the nomarch invited all to a feast in his palace.
He conducted the prince to a bath, he assisted at the bathing, and brought out from his own chest perfumes wherewith to anoint Rameses. Then he oversaw the barber who arranged the viceroy’s hair; next he kneeled down on the pavement and implored the prince to accept new robes from him.
These were a newly woven tunic covered with embroidery, a skirt worked with pearls, and a mantle interwoven with gold very thickly, but so delicate that it could be held between a man’s ten fingers.
The heir accepted this graciously, declaring that he had never received a gift of such beauty.
The sun set, and the nomarch conducted the prince to the hall of entertainment.
It was a large court surrounded by columns and paved with mosaic. All the walls were covered with paintings representing scenes in the lives of the ancestors of Sofra; hence expeditions by sea, hunts, and battles. Over the space, instead of a roof, was a giant butterfly with many-colored wings which were moved by hidden slaves to freshen the atmosphere. In bronze holders fastened to the columns blazed bright tapers which gave out smoke with fragrance.
The hall was divided into two parts: one was empty, the other filled with chairs and small tables for guests. Aside in the second part rose a platform on which, under a costly tent with raised sides, was a table and a couch for Rameses.
At each small table were great vases with palms, acacias, and fig-trees. The table of the heir was surrounded with plants having needle-like leaves; these filled the space round about with the odor of balsam.
The assembled guests greeted the prince with a joyful shout, and when Rameses occupied his place beneath a baldachin whence there was a view of the court, his retinue sat down at the tables.
Harps sounded, and ladies entered in rich, muslin robes with open bosoms; precious stones were glittering upon theirpersons. Four of the most beautiful surrounded Rameses; the others sat near the dignitaries of his retinue.
In the air was the fragrance of roses, lilies of the valley, and violets; the prince felt the throbbing of his temples.
Slaves, male and female, in white, rose-colored, and blue tunics, brought in cakes, roasted birds, and game, fish, wine, fruits, also garlands of flowers with which the guests crowned themselves. The immense butterfly moved its wings more and more quickly, and in the unoccupied part of the court was a spectacle. In turn appeared dancers, gymnasts, buffoons, performers of tricks, swordsmen; when any one gave an unusual proof of dexterity, the spectators threw to him gold rings or flowers from their garlands.
The feast lasted some hours, interspersed with shouts of guests wishing happiness to the prince, and to the nomarch and his family.
Rameses, who was in a reclining position on a couch covered with a lion’s skin which had golden claws, was served by four ladies. One fanned him; another changed the garland on his head; the other two offered food to him. Toward the end of the feast the one with whom the prince talked with most willingness brought a goblet of wine. Rameses drank half, and gave the remainder to the woman; when she had drunk that half, he kissed her lips.
Slaves quenched the torches then quickly, the butterfly ceased to move its wings, there was night in the court, and silence interrupted by the nervous laughter of women.
All on a sudden the quick tramping of people was heard and a terrible shouting.
“Let me in!” cried a hoarse voice. “Where is the heir? Where is the viceroy?”
There was a dreadful disturbance in the hall. Women were terrified; men called out,—
“What is it?—An attack on the heir! Hei, guards!”
The sound of broken dishes was heard, and the rattle of chairs.
“Where is the heir?” bellowed the stranger.
“Guards! Defend the life of the heir!” shouted men in the courtyard.
“Light the torches!” called the youthful voice of the heir. “Who is looking for me? Here I am!”
Torches were brought. In the hall were piles of overturned and broken furniture behind which guests were in hiding. On the platform the prince tore away from the women, who screamed while they held to his legs and arms firmly. Near the prince was Tutmosis, his wig torn, a bronze pitcher in his hand with which he was ready to open the head of any one who dared to go nearer the viceroy. At the door of the hall appeared warriors with swords drawn for action.
“What is this? Who is here?” cried the terrified nomarch.
At last they beheld the author of the disturbance, a gigantic man, naked, and mud-covered. He had bloody stripes on his shoulders; he was kneeling on the steps of the platform and stretching his hands toward Rameses.
“This is the murderer,” shouted the nomarch. “Seize him!”
Tutmosis raised his pitcher; soldiers rushed up from the door. The wounded man fell with his face to the steps, crying,—
“Have mercy, sun of Egypt!”
The soldiers were ready to seize him when Rameses pulled himself free of the women and approached the unfortunate giant.
“Touch him not!” cried Rameses to the warriors. “What dost thou wish, man?”
“I wish, lord, to tell thee of the wrongs which we suffer.”
At that moment the nomarch stepped up to the viceroy and whispered,—
“This is a Hyksos. Look, worthiness, at his shaggy hair and his beard. But the insolence with which he burst in proves that the criminal is not a genuine Egyptian.”
“Who art thou?” asked Rameses.
“I am Bakura, a laborer in the regiment of diggers in Sochem. We have no work now, so the nomarch Otoes commanded us—”
“He is a drunkard and a madman!” whispered the excited Sofra. “How dares he speak to thee, lord—”
The prince gave such a look to the nomarch that he bent double and moved backward.
“What did the worthy Otoes command you the workers?” asked the viceroy of Bakura.
“He commanded us, lord, to go along the bank of the Nile, swim in the river, stand at the roads, make an uproar in thy honor, and he promised to give us what was proper for doing so. For two months before that, we, O lord, received nothing,—neither barley cakes, nor fish, nor olive oil for our bodies.”
“What is thy answer to this, worthy lord?” asked the prince of the nomarch.
“He is a dangerous drunkard, a foul liar,” answered Sofra.
“What noise didst thou make in my honor?”
“That which was commanded,” said the giant. “My wife and daughter cried with the others, ‘May he live through eternity!’ I sprang into the water and threw a garland at thy barge, worthiness; for this they promised an uten. When thou wert pleased graciously to enter the city of Atribis, I approached to throw myself under the horses and stop thy chariot—”
The prince laughed.
“As I live,” said he, “I did not think that we should end the feast with such joyousness. But how much did they pay thee for falling under the chariot?”
“They promised three utens, but have paid nothing to me or my wife or my daughter. Nothing has been given to the whole regiment of diggers to eat for two months past.”
“On what do ye live then?”
“On begging, or on that which we earn from some earth-worker. In this sore distress we revolted three times, and desired to go home. But the officers and scribes either promised to give something or commanded to beat us.”
“For the noise made in my honor?” put in the prince, laughing.
“Thy worthiness speaks truth. Yesterday the revolt was greatest, for which the worthy nomarch Sofra gave command to take the tenth man. Every tenth man was clubbed, and I got the most, for I am big and have three mouths to feed,—my own, my wife’s, and my daughter’s. When I was clubbed I broke away from them to fall down, O lord, in thy presence, and tell thee our sorrows. Beat us if we are guilty, but let the scribes give us that which is due, for we are dying of hunger,—we, our wives, and our children.”
“This man is possessed!” exclaimed Sofra. “Be pleased, lord, to see the damage he has wrought here. I would not take ten talents for those dishes, pitchers, and tables.”
Among the guests, who now were recovering their senses, a muttering began.
“This is a bandit!” said they. “Look at him, really a Hyksos. Boiling up in him is the cursed blood of his ancestors, the men who invaded and ruined Egypt. Such costly furniture, such splendid vessels, broken into fragments!”
“The loss caused the state by one rebellion of unpaid laborers is greater than the value of these vessels,” said Rameses.
“Sacred words! They should be written on monuments,” said some among the guests. “Rebellion takes people from their labor and grieves the heart of his holiness. It is not proper that laborers should be unpaid for two months in succession.”
The prince looked with contempt on those courtiers, changeable as clouds; he turned then to the nomarch.
“I give thee,” said he, threateningly, “this punished man. I am certain that a hair of his head will not fall from him. To-morrow morning I wish to see the regiment to which he belongs and learn whether he speaks truth or falsehood.”
After these words Rameses went out, leaving the nomarch and the guests in vexation.
Next morning the prince, while dressing with the aid of Tutmosis, asked him,—
“Have the laborers come?”
“They have, lord; they have been waiting for thy commands since daybreak.”
“And is that man Bakura among them?”
Tutmosis made a wry face and answered,—
“A marvellous thing has happened. The worthy Sofra gave command to shut the fellow up in an empty cellar of the palace. Well, the disorderly rascal, a very strong man, broke the door to another place where there is wine; he overturned a number of pots of very costly wine, and got so drunk that—”
“That what?” asked the prince.
“That he perished.”
The prince sprang up from his chair.
“And dost thou believe that he drank himself to death?”
“I must believe, for I have no proof that they killed him.”
“But if I look for proof?” burst out the prince.
He ran through the room, and snorted like an angry lion. When he was somewhat quieted, Tutmosis added,—
“Seek not for proof where it is not to be discovered, for thou wilt not find even witnesses. If any man strangled that laborer at command of the nomarch, he will not confess; the laborer himself is dead, and will not say anything; besides, what would his complaint against the nomarch amount to? In these conditions no court would begin to investigate.”
“But if I command?” asked the viceroy.
“In that case they will investigate and prove the innocence of Sofra. Then thou wilt be put to shame, and all the nomarchs with their relatives and servants will become thy enemies.”
The prince stood in the middle of the chamber and pondered.
“Finally,” said Tutmosis, “everything seems to show this, that the unfortunate Bakura was a drunkard or a maniac, and, above all, a man of foreign blood. If a genuine Egyptian in his senses were to go without pay for a year, and be clubbed twice as much as this man, would he dare to break into the palace of the nomarch and appeal to thee with such an outcry?”
Rameses bent his head, and seeing that there were nobles in the next chamber, he said in a voice somewhat lowered,—
“Knowest thou, Tutmosis, since I set out on this journey Egypt begins to appear somehow strange to me? At times I ask my own self if I am not in some foreign region. Then again my heart is disturbed, as if I had a curtain before me, behind which all kinds of villany are practised, but which I myself cannot see with my own eyes.”
“Then do not look at them; for if thou do, it will seem at last to thee that we should all be sent to the quarries,” said Tutmosis, smiling. “Remember that the nomarchs and officials are the shepherds of thy flock. If one of them takes a measure of milk for himself, or kills a little sheep, of course thou wilt not kill him or drive the man away. Thou hast many sheep, and it is not easy to find shepherds.”
The viceroy, now dressed, passed into the hall of waiting, where his suite stood assembled,—priests, officers, andofficials. Then he left the palace with them, and went to the outer courtyard.
That was a broad space, planted with acacias, under the shade of which the laborers were waiting for the viceroy. At the sound of a trumpet the whole crowd sprang up, and stood in five ranks before him.
Rameses, attended by a glittering retinue of dignitaries, halted suddenly, wishing, first of all, to look at the regiment from a distance. The men were naked, each with a white cap on his head, and girt about the hips with stuff like that of which the cap was made. In the ranks Rameses could distinguish easily the brown Egyptian, the negro, the yellow Asiatic, the white inhabitants of Libya, and also the Mediterranean islands.
In the first rank stood workers with pickaxes, in the second those with mattocks, in the third those with shovels. The fourth rank was composed of carriers, of whom each had a pole and two buckets; the fifth was also of carriers, but with large boxes borne by two men. These last carried earth freshly dug.
In front of the ranks, some yards distant, stood the overseers; each held a long stick in his hand, and either a large wooden circle or a square measure.
When the prince approached them, they cried in a chorus,—
“Live thou through eternity!” and kneeling, they struck the earth with their foreheads. The heir commanded them to rise, and surveyed them again with attention.
They were healthy, strong persons, not looking in the least like men who had lived two months on begging.
Sofra with his retinue approached the prince. But Rameses, feigning not to see him, turned to one of the overseers,—
“Are ye earth-tillers from Sochem?” inquired he.
The overseer fell at full length with his face to the earth.
The prince shrugged his shoulders, and called out to the laborers,—
“Are ye from Sochem?”
“We are earth-workers from Sochem,” answered they, in chorus.
“Have ye received pay?”
“We have received pay; we are sated and happy servants of his holiness,” answered the chorus, giving out each word with emphasis.
“Turn around!” commanded the prince.
They turned. It is true that each had frequent and deep scars from the club, but no fresh stripes on their bodies.
“They are deceiving me,” thought the heir.
He commanded the laborers to go to their barracks, and, without greeting the nomarch or taking leave of him, he returned to the palace.
“Wilt thou, too, tell me,” said he to Tutmosis on the road, “that those men are laborers from Sochem?”
“But they say that they are, they themselves give answer,” replied the courtier.
Rameses gave command to bring his horse, and he rode to the army encamped beyond the city. He reviewed the regiments all day. About noon, on the field of exercise, appeared, at command of the nomarch, some tens of carriers with food and wine, tents and furniture. But the prince sent them back to Atribis; and when the hour came for army food, he commanded to serve that to him; so he ate dried meat with oat cakes.
These were the mercenary regiments of Libya. When the prince ordered them to lay aside arms in the evening, and took farewell of the men, it seemed as though the soldiers and officers had yielded to madness. Shouting “May he live through eternity!” they kissed his hands and feet, made a litter of their spears and mantles, and bore him to the city, disputing on the way with one another for the honor of carrying the heir on their shoulders.
The nomarch and the officials of the province were frightened, when they saw the enthusiasm of the Libyans, and the favor which the heir showed barbarians.
“Here is a ruler!” whispered the chief secretary to Sofra. “If he wished, those people would kill us and our children.”
The troubled nomarch sighed to the gods, and commended himself to their gracious protection.
Late at night Rameses found himself in his own palace, and there the servants told him that another bedchamber had been given him.
“Why is this?”
“Because in the first chamber people saw a poisonous serpent, which hid, and no one could find it.”
In a wing near the house of the nomarch was a new sleeping chamber,—a four-cornered room surrounded by columns on all sides. Its walls were of alabaster, covered with painted bas-reliefs; below were plants in vases; higher up garlands of olive and laurel.
Almost in the centre of the room stood a great bed inlaid with ebony, gold, and ivory. The chamber was lighted by two fragrant tapers; under the colonnade were small tables with wine, food, and garlands of roses. In the ceiling was a large quadrangular opening covered with linen.
The prince bathed and lay on the soft bed; his servants went to remote chambers. The tapers were burning out; cool air filled with the odor of flowers moved in the chamber. At the same time low music from harps was heard above him.
Rameses raised his head. The linen canopy of the chamber slipped to one side, and through the opening he saw the constellation Leo, and in it the brilliant star Regulus. The music of harps became louder.
“Are the gods preparing to make me a visit?” thought the viceroy, with a smile.
In the opening of the ceiling shone a broad streak of light; it was powerful but tempered. A moment later a litter appeared in the form of a golden boat, bearing a small arbor with flowers in it; the pillars of the arbor were entwined with garlands of roses, the top of it covered with lotuses and violets.
On ropes, entwined with green, the golden boat descended to the chamber in silence. It stopped on the pavement, and from beneath the flowers came forth a naked maiden of unparalleled beauty. Her body had the smoothness of marble; from her amber-like waves of hair came an intoxicating odor.
The maiden stepped from the litter and knelt before Rameses.
“Art thou the daughter of Sofra?” asked he.
“Thou speakest truth, Lord Rameses.”
“And still thou hast come to me!”
“To implore thee to pardon my father. He is unhappy;since midday he has been shedding tears and covering his head with ashes.”
“And if I would not forgive him, wouldst thou leave me?”
“No,” whispered she.
Rameses drew her toward him and kissed her with passion. His eyes flashed.
“For this I forgive him.”
“Oh, how good thou art!” cried she, nestling up to Rameses; then she added with sweetness,—
“Wilt thou command a reward for the damages done by that mad laborer?”
“I will command.”
“And wilt thou take me to thy household?”
Rameses looked at her.
“I will take thee, for thou art a beauty.”
“Really?” asked she, putting her arm around his neck. “Look at me better. Among the beauties of Egypt I hold only the fourth place.”
“What does that mean?”
“In Memphis, or near there, dwells thy first; happily she is only a Jewess! In Sochem is the second—”
“I know nothing of that one,” interrupted Rameses.
“Oh, thou dove! Then surely thou knowest nothing of the third one in Anu.”
“Does she too belong to my household?”
“Ungrateful!” cried the girl, striking him with a lotus flower. “Thou wouldst be ready to say the same of me a month hence. But I will not let myself be injured.”
“Like thy father.”
“Hast thou not forgotten him yet? Remember that I will go—”
“Stay, stay!”
Next day the viceroy was pleased to receive homage and a feast from Sofra. He praised in public the nomarch’s government of the province, and to reward him for the damages caused by the drunken laborer, Rameses presented him with one-half of the furniture and vessels presented in Anu.
The second half of those gifts was taken by the beautiful Abeb, daughter of the nomarch, as lady of the court. Besides,she commanded that five talents be given her from the treasury of the viceroy, for clothes, slaves, and horses.
In the evening the prince, while yawning, spoke thus to Tutmosis,—
“His holiness my father gave me a great lesson when he said that women are very costly.”
“The position is worse when there are no women,” replied the exquisite.
“But I have four, and I do not even know clearly how. I might give thee two of them.”
“And Sarah?”
“Not her, especially if she has a son.”
“If thou wilt assign a good dowry, husbands will be found for those charmers most easily.”
The prince yawned a second time.
“I do not like to hear of dowries,” said he. “Aaa! What luck, that I shall tear away from thee and settle among the priests!”
“Wilt thou indeed?”
“I must. At last I shall learn of them why the pharaohs are growing poorer. Well, I shall sleep.”
THAT same day, in Memphis, Dagon the Phœnician, the viceroy’s worthy banker, lay on a couch under the veranda of his mansion. Around him were fragrant potted bushes with needle-like leaves. Two black slaves cooled the rich man with fans, and he, while playing with a young ape, was listening to accounts read by his scribe to him.
At that moment a slave with a sword, helmet, dart, and shield (the banker loved military dress), announced the worthy Rabsun, a Phœnician merchant then settled in Memphis.
The guest entered, bowed profoundly, and dropped his eyelids in such fashion that Dagon commanded the scribe and the slaves to withdraw from the veranda. Then, as a man of foresight, he surveyed every corner, and said to the visitor,—
“We may talk.”
Rabsun began without prelude,—
“Dost thou know, worthiness, that Prince Hiram has come from Tyre?”
Dagon sprang up from the couch.
“May the leprosy seize him and his princeship!” shouted the banker.
“He has just reminded me,” continued the guest, calmly, “that there is a misunderstanding between him and thee.”
“What misunderstanding?” cried Dagon. “That thief has robbed, destroyed, ruined me. When I sent my ships after other Tyrian vessels to the west for silver, the helmsmen of that thief Hiram cast fire on them, tried to push them into a shallow. Well, my ships came back empty, burnt, and shattered. May the fire of heaven burn him!” concluded the raging banker.
“But if Hiram has for thee a profitable business?” inquired the guest, stolidly.
The storm raging in Dagon’s breast ceased on a sudden.
“What business can he offer me?” asked the banker, with a voice now calmed completely.
“He will tell this himself, but first he must see thee.”
“Well, let him come to me.”
“He thinks that thou shouldst go to him. He, as is known to thee, is a member of the chief council of Tyre.”
“He will perish before I go to him,” cried the banker, enraged a second time.
The guest drew an armchair to the couch, and slapped Dagon’s thigh.
“Dagon,” said he, “have sense.”
“Why have I not sense, and why dost thou, Rabsun, not say to me worthiness?”
“Dagon, be not foolish!” answered the guest. “If thou wilt not go to him and he will not come to thee, how will ye do business?”
“Thou art foolish, Rabsun!” burst out Dagon again. “Before I go to Hiram let my hand wither; with that politeness I should lose half the profit.”
The guest thought awhile.
“Now thou hast uttered a wise word,” said he; “so I willtell thee something. Come to me and Hiram will come also; ye can talk of that business in my house.”
Dagon bent his head, and half closing his eyes, inquired roguishly,—
“Ei, Rabsun!—Tell, outright how much did he give thee?”
“For what?”
“For this, that I should come to thy house and transact business with him, the mangy scoundrel.”
“This business interests all Phœnicia, so I need no profit on it,” replied the indignant Rabsun.
“That is as true as that all thy debtors will pay thee.”
“May they fail to pay me if I make anything in this! Only let not Phœnicia lose!” cried Rabsun, in anger.
They took farewell of each other.
Toward evening the worthy Dagon seated himself in a litter carried by six slaves. He was preceded by two outrunners with staffs, and two with torches; behind the litter went four men armed from head to foot. Not for security, but because for a certain time Dagon loved to surround himself with armed men, like a noble.
He came out of the litter with great importance, supported by two men; a third carried a parasol over him. He entered Rabsun’s house.
“Where is that—Hiram?” inquired he, haughtily.
“He is not here.”
“How is this? Must I wait for him, then?”
“He is not in this room, but he is in the third one talking with my wife,” answered the host. “He is making a visit to my wife.”
“I will not go there!” said the banker, sitting down on a couch.
“Thou wilt go to the next chamber, and he will enter it at the same time with thee.”
After a short resistance Dagon yielded, and a moment later, at a sign from the master of the house, he entered the second chamber. At the same time from distant apartments appeared a man, not of tall stature, with gray beard, dressed in a gold-embroidered toga, and with a gold band on his head.
“This is,” said the host, standing in the middle of the room,“his grace Prince Hiram, a member of the supreme council of Tyre.—This is the worthy Dagon, banker of the heir to the throne and viceroy of Lower Egypt.”
The two dignitaries bowed, each with his hand on his breast, and both sat down on stools in the middle of the chamber. Hiram pushed aside his toga somewhat in order to show the great gold medal on his breast; in answer to this Dagon began to toy with a large gold chain which he had received from Prince Rameses.
“I, Hiram,” said the old man, “congratulate thee, Lord Dagon. I wish thee much property, and success in thy business.”
“I, Dagon, congratulate thee, Lord Hiram, and I wish thee the same as thou wishest me—”
“Dost thou desire to dispute?” interrupted Hiram, irritated.
“How dispute? Rabsun, say if I am disputing.”
“Better talk of business, your worthinesses,” replied the host.
After a moment of thought Hiram proceeded,—
“Thy friends in Tyre congratulate thee greatly through me.”
“Is that all they have sent me?” asked Dagon, in reviling accents.
“What didst thou wish?” inquired Hiram, raising his voice.
“Quiet! Concord!” put in the host.
Hiram sighed a number of times deeply, and said,—
“It is true that we need concord. Evil times are approaching Phœnicia.”
“Has the sea flooded Tyre and Sidon?” asked Dagon, smiling.
Hiram spat, and inquired,—
“Why art thou so ill-tempered to-day?”
“I am always ill-tempered when men do not call me worthiness.”
“But why dost thou not say grace to me? I am a prince.”
“Perhaps in Phœnicia. But in Assyria thou wouldst wait three days in the forecourt of any satrap for an audience, and when he deigned to receive thee thou wouldst be lying on thy belly, like any Phœnician merchant.”
“But what couldst thou do in presence of a wild man who would perhaps impale thee on a stake?” inquired Hiram.
“What I would do, I know not. But in Egypt I sit on one sofa with the heir to the throne, who to-day is viceroy.”
“Concord, worthiness! Concord, grace!” said the host.
“Concord!—concord, because this man is a common Phœnician merchant, and is unwilling to render me respect,” cried out Dagon.
“I have a hundred ships!” shouted Hiram.
“And his holiness has twenty thousand cities, towns, and villages.”
“Your worthinesses are destroying this business and all Phœnicia,” said Rabsun, with a voice which was loud now.
Hiram balled his fists, but was silent.
“Thou must confess, worthiness,” said he, after a while, “that of those twenty thousand towns his holiness owns few in reality.”
“Thou wishest to say, grace,” answered Dagon, “that seven thousand belong to the temples, and seven thousand to great lords. Still six thousand belong clearly to his holiness.”
“Not altogether! For when thou takest, worthiness, about three thousand which are mortgaged to the priests, and two thousand which are rented to our Phœnicians—”
“Thou speakest the truth, grace,” said Dagon. “But there remain always to his holiness about two thousand very rich cities.”
“Has Typhon possessed thee?” roared Rabsun, in his turn. “Wilt thou go now to counting the cities of the pharaoh,—may he—”
“Pst!” whispered Dagon, springing up.
“When misfortune is hanging over Phœnicia—” finished Rabsun.
“Let me but know what the misfortune is,” interrupted Dagon.
“Then let Hiram speak and thou wilt know.”
“Let him speak.”
“Dost thou know, worthiness, what happened in the inn ‘Under the Ship’ to our brother Asarhadon?” began Hiram.
“I have no brothers among innkeepers,” interrupted Dagon, sneeringly.
“Be silent!” screamed Rabsun, in anger; and he graspedthe hilt of his dagger. “Thou art as dull as a dog barking in sleep.”
“Why is he angry, that—that dealer in bones?” inquired Dagon; and he readied for his knife also.
“Quiet! Concord!” said the gray-headed prince; and he dropped his lean hand to his girdle.
For a while the nostrils of all three men were quivering and their eyes flashing. At last Hiram, who calmed himself first, began again, as if nothing had happened.
“A couple of months ago, in Asarhadon’s inn, lodged a certain Phut from the city of Harran——”
“He had to receive five talents from some priest,” interrupted Dagon.
“What further?” asked Hiram.
“Nothing. He found favor with a certain priestess, and at her advice went to seek his debtor in Thebes.”
“Thou hast the mind of a child and the talkativeness of a woman,” said Hiram. “This Harran man is not from Harran at all. He is a Chaldean, and his name is not Phut, but Beroes—”
“Beroes?—Beroes?” repeated Dagon, trying to remember. “I have heard that name in some place.”
“Thou hast heard it!” repeated Hiram, with contempt. “Beroes is the wisest priest in Babylon, the counsellor of Assyrian princes and of the king himself.”
“Let him be counsellor; if he is not the pharaoh, what do I care?” said the banker.
Rabsun rose from his chair, and threatening Dagon with his fist under the nose, cried,—
“Thou wild boar, fatted on the pharaoh’s swill, Phœnicia concerns thee as much as Egypt concerns me. Thou wouldst sell thy country for a drachma hadst thou the chance, leprous cur that thou art!”
Dagon grew pale and answered with a calm voice,—
“What is that huckster saying? In Tyre my sons are learning navigation; in Sidon lives my daughter with her husband. I have lent half my property to the supreme council, though I do not receive even ten per cent for it. And this huckster says that Phœnicia does not concern me!”
“Rabsun, listen to me,” added he, after a while. “I wish thy wife and children and the shades of thy fathers to be as much thought of by thee as each Phœnician ship is by me, or each stone of Tyre and Sidon, or even of Zarpath and Achsibu.”
“Dagon, tell truth,” put in Hiram.
“I not care for Phœnicia!” continued the banker, growing excited. “How many Phœnicians have I brought here to make property, and what do I gain from having done so! I not care? Hiram ruined two ships of mine and deprived me of great profit; still, when Phœnicia is in question, I sit in one room with him.”
“For thou didst think to talk with him of cheating some one,” said Rabsun.
“As much as thou didst think of dying, fool!” retorted Dagon. “Am I a child? do I not understand that when Hiram comes to Memphis he need not come for traffic? O thou Rabsun! thou shouldst clean my stables a couple of years.”
“Enough of this!” cried Hiram, striking the table with his fist.
“We never shall finish with this Chaldean priest,” muttered Rabsun, with as much calmness as if he had not been insulted a moment before.
Hiram coughed, and said,—
“That man has a house and land really in Harran, and he is called Phut there. He got letters from Hittite merchants to merchants in Sidon, so our caravans took him for the journey. He speaks Phœnician well, he pays liberally. He made no demands in particular; so our people came to like him, even much.
“But,” continued Hiram, stroking his beard, “when a lion covers himself with an ox skin, even a little of his tail will stick out. This Phut was wonderfully wise and self-confident; so the chief of the caravan examined his effects in secret, and found nothing save a medal of the goddess Astaroth. This medal pricked the heart of the leader of the caravan: ‘How could a Hittite have a Phœnician medal?’
“So when they came to Sidon he reported straightway to the elders, and thenceforth our secret police kept this Phut in view.
“Meanwhile he is such a sage that when he had remained some days all came to like him. He prayed and offered sacrifices to the goddess Astaroth, paid in gold, borrowed no money, associated only with Phœnicians. And he so befogged all that watchfulness touching him was weakened, and he went in peace to Memphis.
“In this place again our elders began to watch him, but discovered nothing; they divined simply that he must be a great lord, not a simple man of Harran. But Asarhadon discovered by chance, and did not even discover, he only came on traces, that this pretended Phut passed a whole night in the ancient temple of Set, which here is greatly venerated.”
“Only high priests enter it for important counsels,” interrupted Dagon.
“And that alone would mean nothing,” said Hiram. “But one of our merchants returned a month ago from Babylon, with wonderful tidings. In return for a great present a certain attendant of the Satrap of Babylon informed him that misfortune was threatening Phœnicia.
“‘Assyria will take you,’ said the attendant, ‘and Egypt will take Israel. On that business the Chaldean high priest Beroes has gone to the priests of Thebes, and with them he will make a treaty.’
“Ye must know,” continued Hiram, “that Chaldean priests consider the priests in Egypt as their brothers, and that Beroes enjoys great esteem in the Court of King Assar, so reports concerning that treaty may be very truthful.”
“Why does Assyria want Phœnicia?” inquired Dagon, as he bit his finger-nails.
“Why does a thief want another man’s granary?” replied Hiram.
“What good is a treaty made by Beroes with Egyptian priests?” put in Rabsun, thinking deeply.
“Thou art dull!” answered Dagon. “Pharaoh does nothing except what the priests ordain.”
“There will be a treaty with the pharaoh, never fear!” interrupted Hiram. “We know to a certainty in Tyre that the Assyrian ambassador Sargon is coming to Egypt with gifts and with a great retinue. He pretends that it is to see Egypt andagree with ministers, not to inscribe in Egyptian acts that Assyria pays tribute to the pharaohs. But in fact he is coming to conclude a treaty about dividing the countries which lie between our sea and the Euphrates River.”
“May the earth swallow them!” imprecated Rabsun.
“What dost thou think of this Dagon?” inquired Hiram.
“But what would ye do if Assar attacked you really?”
Hiram shook his head with anger.
“What? We should go on board of ships with our families and treasures and leave to those dogs the ruins of cities and the rotting corpses of slaves. Do we not know greater and more beautiful countries than Phœnicia, where we can begin a new and richer fatherland?”
“May the gods guard us from such a thing,” said Dagon.
“This is just the question, to save the present Phœnicia from destruction,” said Hiram. “And thou, Dagon, art able to do much in this matter.”
“What can I do?”
“Thou mayst learn from the priests whether Beroes met them, and whether he and they made an agreement.”
“A terribly difficult thing,” whispered Dagon. “But I may find a priest who will tell me.”
“Thou canst prevent at the court of the pharaoh a treaty with Sargon,” continued Hiram.
“It is very difficult. I could not do that, unassisted.”
“I will be with thee, and Phœnicia will find the gold. A tax is in course of collection at present.”
“I have given two talents!” whispered Rabsun.
“I will give ten,” added Dagon. “But what shall I get for my labor?”
“What? Well, ten ships,” answered Hiram.
“And how much wilt thou gain?” inquired Dagon.
“Is ten not enough? Thou wilt get fifteen.”
“I ask, what wilt thou get?” insisted Dagon.
“We will give—twenty ships. Does that suffice thee?”
“Let it be so. But will ye show my ships the road to the country of silver?”
“We will show it.”
“And the place where ye get tin? Well—”
“And the place where amber is found?” continued Dagon.
“May thou perish at once!” answered the gracious Prince Hiram, extending his hand. “But thou wilt not keep up a malignant heart toward me because of those two little flat boats?”
Dagon sighed.
“I will work to forget. But—what a property I should have now if thou hadst not driven them off at that time!”
“Enough!” interrupted Rabsun; “talk of Phœnicia.”
“Through whom wilt thou learn of Beroes and the treaty?” asked Hiram of Dagon.
“Let that drop. It is dangerous to speak of it, for priests will be involved in the matter.”
“And through whom couldst thou ruin the treaty?”
“I think—I think that perhaps through the heir to the throne. I have many notes of his.”
Hiram raised his hand, and replied,—
“The heir—very well, for he will be pharaoh, perhaps even soon—”
“Pst!” interrupted Dagon, striking the table with his fist. “May thou lose speech for such language!”
“Here is a wild boar for thee!” cried Rabsun, threatening the banker’s nose.
“And thou art a dull huckster,” answered Dagon, with a reviling laugh. “Thou, Rabsun, shouldst sell dried fish and water on the streets, but not mix up in questions between states. An ox hoof rubbed in Egyptian mud has more sense than thou, though thou art living five years in the capital of light! Oh that pigs might devour thee!”
“Quiet! quiet!” called Hiram. “Ye do not let me finish.”
“Speak, for thou art wise and my heart understands thee,” said Rabsun.
“If thou, Dagon, hast influence over the heir, that is well,” continued Hiram. “For if the heir wishes to have a treaty with Assyria there will be a treaty, and besides one written with our blood on our own skins. But if the heir wishes war with Assyria, he will make war, though the priests were to summon all the gods against him.”
“Pst!” interrupted Dagon. “If the priests wish greatly, there will be a treaty. But perhaps they will not wish.”
“Therefore, Dagon, we must have all the military leaders with us,” said Hiram.
“We can.”
“And the nomarchs.”
“We can have them too.”
“And the heir,” continued Hiram.
“But if thou alone urge him to war with Assyria, that is nothing. A man, like a harp, has many strings, and to play on them fingers are needed, while thou, Dagon, art only one finger.”
“But I cannot tear myself into ten parts.”
“Thou mayst be like one hand which has five fingers. Thou must so act that no one may suspect that thou art for war, but every cook in the heir’s kitchen must want war, every barber of his must want war, all the bath men, and litter-bearers, scribes, officers, charioteers must want war with Assyria; the heir should hear war from morning till night, and even when he is sleeping.”
“That will be done.”
“But dost thou know his mistresses?” asked Hiram.
Dagon waved his hand.
“Stupid girls!” said he. “They think only about dressing, painting, and perfuming themselves; but whence these perfumes come, and who brings them to Egypt, they know not.”
“We must give him a favorite who will know.”
“Where shall we find her?” asked Dagon. “Ah, I have it!” cried he, stroking his forehead. “Dost thou know Kama, the priestess of Astaroth?”
“What?” interrupted Rabsun, astounded. “The priestess of the holy goddess Astaroth to be a favorite of an Egyptian?”
“Thou wouldst prefer that she were thine,” sneered Dagon. “She can even cease to be high priestess when it is necessary to bring her near the court.”