THE priestess brought little happiness to the viceroy. When he came the first time to visit her in the villa occupied recently by Sarah, he thought: “I shall be met with delight now and gratitude.”
Meanwhile Kama received him almost with anger.
“What is this?” cried she. “A half day has passed, and that wretched Jewess is restored to thy favor.”
“Does she not dwell in the servants’ house?” asked the prince.
“But my steward says that she will wash my feet no longer.”
When the prince heard this, a feeling of disgust seized him.
“Thou art not satisfied, I see,” said he.
“I shall not be satisfied till I humiliate that Jewess,” cried Kama, “till she, by serving me and kneeling at my feet, forgets that she was once thy first woman and the mistress of this villa. I shall not be satisfied till my servants cease to look at me with fear and without confidence, and on her with compassion.”
The Phœnician woman was less and less pleasing to Rameses.
“Kama,” said he, “consider what I tell thee: If a servant here were to kick in the teeth a female dog that was suckling its young, I should hunt that servant out of this villa. Thou hast struck with thy foot between the eyes a woman and a mother. In Egypt mother is a great word. A good Egyptian reverences three things beyond all others,—the gods, the pharaoh, and his own mother.”
“Oh, woe to me!” cried Kama, throwing herself on the couch. “Here is my reward, wretched woman, for denying my goddess. One week ago men placed flowers at my feet and burnt incense before me, but to-day—”
The prince walked out of the chamber quietly, and saw the priestess again only after some days had passed.
But she was still in evil humor.
“I implore thee, lord,” cried she, “think a little more of me. My servants even begin to contemn me, the warriors look at me with a frown, and I am afraid that some one in the kitchen may poison the food prepared for me.”
“I was occupied with the army, so I could not visit thee,” replied the viceroy.
“That is untrue,” answered Kama, in anger. “Yesterday thou wert outside the entrance to this house, and then thou didst go to the servants’ house, where dwells the Jewess. Thou didst this to show—”
“Enough!” interrupted the prince. “I was neither here nor at the servants’ house. If it seemed to thee that thou wert looking at me, that means that thy lover, that worthless Greek, not only has not left Egypt, but even dares to wander through my garden.”
The Phœnician woman heard him with fright.
“O Astaroth!” cried she, suddenly. “Save me! Hide me, O earth! for if that wretch Lykon returns mighty misfortune is threatening me.”
The prince laughed, but he had not patience to listen to the complaints of the ex-priestess.
“Be at rest,” said he, when going, “and wonder not if after some days men bring in thy Lykon bound like a jackal. That insolent ruffian has worn out my patience.”
On returning to his palace the prince summoned Hiram and the chief of police in Pi-Bast. He told them that Lykon, the Greek with a face resembling his, was prowling around among the palaces, and he gave command to seize him. Hiram swore that if Phœnicians helped the police the Greek would be taken. But the chief shook his head.
“Dost doubt?” asked the prince.
“Yes, lord. In Pi-Bast dwell many pious Asiatics who think the priestess worthy of death because she deserted the altar. If this Greek has bound himself to kill Kama, they will help him, they will conceal the man, and facilitate flight for him.”
“What is thy answer to this?” asked the heir of Hiram.
“The worthy master of the palace speaks wisely,” replied the old Phœnician.
“But ye have freed Kama from the curse.”
“I guarantee that Phœnicians will not touch Kama, and will pursue the Greek. But what is to be done with the other adherents of Astaroth?”
“I make bold to think,” said the chief, “that nothing threatens this woman at present. If she had courage, we might employ her to decoy the Greek, and seize him here in thy palaces, O Erpatr.”
“Then go to her,” said the prince, “and lay before her whatever plan thou mayst think out. And if thou seize the man, I will give thee ten talents.”
When the heir left them, Hiram said to the chief,—
“Dignitary, I am aware that thou knowest both kinds of writing, and that the wisdom of priests is not strange to thee. When thou hast the wish, thou art able to hear through walls and see things in darkness. For this reason thou knowest the thoughts of the man who works with a bucket, the laborer, the artisan who takes sandals to market, the great lord who in the escort of his servants feels as safe as a child on the bosom of its mother.”
“Thou speakest truth,” replied the official. “The gods have given me a wonderful gift of clear insight.”
“That is it; thanks to thy gifts, thou hast guessed beyond doubt that the temple of Astaroth will appoint to thee twenty talents if thou seize that wretch who dares assume the appearance of the prince, our viceroy. Besides, in every case, the temple offers thee ten talents if news of the likeness of the wretched Lykon to the heir is not reported throughout Egypt; for it is offensive and improper that an ordinary mortal should recall by his features a personage descended from divinity.”
“Therefore let not that which thou hearest of the wretched Lykon go beyond our own hearts, nor any word touching our chase after that godless outcast.”
“I understand,” replied the official. “It may even happen that such a criminal may lose his life before we can give him to the court.”
“Thou hast said it,” replied Hiram, pressing his hand; “and every help asked by thee of Phœnicians will be furnished.”
They parted like two friends who were hunting a wild beast, and knew that the problem was not that their spear should strike, but that the beast should drop in its tracks and not go into other hands.
After some days Rameses visited Kama again, but found her in a state touching on insanity. She hid herself in the darkest room of the villa; she was hungry, her hair was not dressed, she was even unwashed. She gave the most contradictory commands to her servants; at one time she ordered all to come to her, at another she sent all away. In the night she summoned the guard of warriors, and fled to the highest chamber soon after, crying out that they wished to kill her.
In view of these actions all desire vanished from the prince’s soul, and there remained simply a feeling of great trouble. He seized his head when the steward of the palace and the officer told him of these wonders, and he whispered:
“Indeed, I did badly in taking that woman from her goddess; for the goddess alone could endure her caprices with patience.”
He went, however, to Kama, and found her emaciated, broken, and trembling.
“Woe to me!” cried she. “There are none around me but enemies. My tirewoman wishes to poison me; my hairdresser to give me some dreadful disease. The warriors are waiting an opportunity to bury swords and spears in my bosom; I am sure that instead of food, they prepare for me magic herbs in the kitchen. All are rising up to destroy me—”
“Kama!” interrupted the prince.
“Call me not by that name!” whispered she; “it will bring me misfortune.”
“But how do these ideas come to thee?”
“How? Dost thou think that in the daytime I do not see strange people who appear at the palace and vanish before I can call in my servants? And in the night do I not hear people outside the wall whispering?”
“It seems so to thee.”
“Cursed! Cursed!” cried Kama, weeping. “Ye all say that it seems to me. But the day before yesterday somecriminal hand threw into my bedchamber a veil, which I wore half a day before I saw that it was not mine and that I had never worn a veil like it.”
“Where is that veil?” inquired the prince, now alarmed.
“I burned it, but I showed it first to my servants.”
“If not thine even, what harm could come of it?”
“Nothing yet. But had I kept that rag in the house two days longer, I should have been poisoned, or caught some incurable disorder. I know Asiatics and their methods.”
Wearied and irritated, the prince left her at the earliest, in spite of entreaties to stay. When he asked the servants about that veil, the tirewoman declared that it was not one of Kama’s; some person had thrown it into the chamber.
The prince commanded to double the watch at the villa and around it, and returned in desperation to his dwelling.
“Never should I have believed,” said he, “that a single weak woman could bring so much trouble. Four freshly caught hyenas are not so restless as that Kama!”
At his palace the prince found Tutmosis, who had just returned from Memphis and had barely taken time to bathe and dress after the journey.
“What hast thou to say?” inquired the prince of his favorite, divining that he had not brought pleasant tidings. “Hast thou seen his holiness?”
“I saw the sun-god of Egypt, and this is what he said to me—”
“Speak,” hurried Rameses.
“Thus spoke our lord,” answered Tutmosis, crossing his arms on his breast: “‘For four and thirty years have I directed the weighty car of Egypt, and I am so wearied that I yearn to join my mighty forefathers who dwell now in the western kingdom. Soon I shall leave this earth, and then my son, Rameses, will sit on the throne, and do with the state what wisdom points out to him.’”
“Did my holy father speak thus?”
“Those are his words repeated faithfully. A number of times the lord spoke explicitly, saying that he would leave no command to thee, so that thou mightst govern Egypt as thy wishes indicate.”
“Oh, holy one! Is his illness really serious? Why did he not summon me?” asked the prince, in sorrow.
“Thou must be here, for thou mayst be of service in this part of Egypt.”
“But the treaty with Assyria?”
“It is concluded in this sense, that Assyria may wage war on the east and north without hindrance from Egypt. But the question of Phœnicia remains in abeyance till thou art the pharaoh.”
“O blessed! O holy ruler! From what a dreadful heritage thou hast saved me.”
“So Phœnicia remains in abeyance,” continued Tutmosis. “But still there is one bad thing. His holiness, to show Assyria that he will not hinder her in the war against northern peoples, has commanded to decrease our army by twenty thousand mercenaries.”
“What dost thou tell me!” cried the heir, astounded.
Tutmosis shook his head in sign of sorrow.
“I speak the truth, and four Libyan regiments are now disbanded.”
“But this is madness!” almost howled the heir, wringing his hands. “Why have we so weakened ourselves, and whither will those disbanded men go?”
“They have gone to the Libyan desert already, and will either attack the Libyans, which will cause us trouble, or will join them and both will attack then our western border.”
“I have heard nothing of this! What did they do, and when did they do it? No news reached us!” cried Rameses.
“The disbanded troops went to the desert from Memphis, and Herhor forbade to mention this news to any person.”
“Do neither Mefres nor Mentezufis know of this matter?”
“They know.”
“They know, and I do not.”
The prince grew calm on a sudden, but he was pale, and on his young face was depicted terrible hatred. He seized both hands of his favorite, pressed them firmly, and whispered,—
“Hear me! By the sacred heads of my father and mother, by the memory of Rameses the Great—by all the gods, if there are any, I swear that during my rule if the priests will not bow down before me I will crush them.”
Tutmosis listened in alarm.
“I or they!” finished the prince. “Egypt cannot have two lords.”
“Formerly it had only one, the pharaoh,” added Tutmosis.
“Then thou wilt be loyal to me?”
“I, all the nobles, and the army, I swear to thee.”
“Enough!” concluded Rameses. “Let them discharge the mercenary regiments, let them sign treaties, let them hide before me like bats, and let them deceive us all. But the time will come— And now, Tutmosis, rest after the journey; be with me at the feast this evening. Those people have so bound me that I can only amuse myself. Then let me amuse myself. But in time I will show them who the ruler of Egypt is,—they or I.”
From that day feasts began again. The prince, as if ashamed to meet the army, was not present at drills. Still, his palace was swarming with nobles, officers, jugglers, and singers, while at night great orgies took place, at which the sound of harps mingled with the drunken shouts of guests and the spasmodic laughter of women.
Rameses invited Kama to one of these feasts, but she refused.
The prince was offended. Seeing this, Tutmosis said,—
“They have told me, lord, that Sarah has lost thy favor.”
“Do not mention that Jewess to me,” replied Rameses. “But dost thou know what she did with my son?”
“I know; but that, it seems to me, was not her fault. I heard in Memphis that thy worthy mother and the worthy minister Herhor made thy son a Jew, so that he might rule over Israelites sometime—”
“But the Israelites have no king,—only priests and judges,” interrupted the prince.
“They have not, but they wish to have. They, too, are disgusted with priestly rule.”
The heir waved his hand contemptuously.
“A charioteer of his holiness means more than any king, especially any king of the Israelites, who as yet have no kingdom.”
“In every case, Sarah’s fault is not so great,” put in Tutmosis.
“Then know that I will pay the priests sometime.”
“They are not to blame so greatly. For instance, the worthy Herhor did this to increase the glory and power of thy dynasty. And he did it with the knowledge of thy mother.”
“But why does Mefres interfere? His single duty is to care for the temple, not influence the fate of the pharaoh’s descendants.”
“Mefres is an old man growing whimsical. The whole court of his holiness jeers at him because of practices, of which I know nothing, though I see the holy man almost daily.”
“This is curious. What does he do?”
“A number of times during twenty-four hours he performs solemn services in the most secret parts of the temple, and he commands the priests to see if the gods do not hold him suspended while praying.”
“Ha! ha!” laughed Rameses. “And all this is going on in Pi-Bast here under our eyes, and I do not know of it?”
“A priestly secret.”
“A secret of which all in Memphis are talking! Ha! ha! ha! In the amphitheatre I saw a Chaldean suspended in the air.”
“I saw him too; but that was a trick, while Mefres wishes to be borne above the earth really on the wings of his devotion.”
“Unheard-of buffoonery! What do the other priests say to this?”
“Perhaps in our sacred papyruses there is mention that in old times there were prophets among us who had the gift of suspending themselves in the air; so the desires of Mefres do not astonish priests nowadays. And since, as is known to thee, subordinates among us see whatever pleases superiors, some holy men claim that during prayer Mefres really rises a couple of fingers high above the pavement.”
“Ha! ha! ha! And with this great secret the whole court is occupied, and we, like laborers or earth-diggers, do not even suspect that miracles are wrought at one side of us. A wretched fate to be heir to the throne of Egypt!” laughed the viceroy.
When he grew calm, at the repeated request of Tutmosis, he commanded to transfer Sarah from the servants’ house to Kama’s first villa. The servants were delighted at this change; all the serving and slave women, and even the scribes conducted Sarah to her new dwelling with music and shouts of pleasure.
The Phœnician woman, when she heard the uproar, asked the reason; and when they told her that Sarah had been restored to the favor of the prince, and that from the servants’ house she had been transferred to the villa, the enraged ex-priestess sent for Rameses.
The prince came.
“Dost thou treat me in this way?” screamed she, losing control of her temper. “Thou didst promise that I should be thy first woman, but before the moon traversed half the heavens thy promise was broken. Perhaps thou thinkest that the vengeance of Astaroth will fall on the priestess alone, and not reach to princes.”
“Tell thy Astaroth,” replied Rameses, calmly, “not to threaten princes, or she may go herself to the servants’ house.”
“I understand!” exclaimed Kama. “I shall go to the servants’ house, perhaps even to prison, while thou wilt spend nights with thy Jewess. Because I have left the gods for thee I have drawn down a curse on my own head. Because I left them I know no rest for a moment; I have lost my youth for thee, my life, my soul even, and this is the pay which thou givest me.”
The prince confessed in his heart that Kama had sacrificed much for him, and he felt compunction.
“I have not been and shall not be with Sarah,” said he. “But does it harm thee that the ill-fated woman has some comfort and can nourish her child unmolested?”
Kama trembled. She raised her clinched fist, her hair stirred, and in her eyes an ugly fire of hate was flashing.
“Is this the answer which thou givest me? The Jewess is unhappy because thou didst drive her from the villa, and I must be satisfied, though the gods have driven me out of their temples. But my soul—the soul of a priestess who is drowningin tears and in terror—does not mean more for thee than that brat of the Jew woman—this child, which, would he were dead—may he—”
“Silence!” cried the prince, shutting her mouth.
She drew back frightened.
“Then may I not even complain of my wretchedness?” inquired she. “But if thou art so careful of that child, why steal me from the temple, why promise that I should be first in thy household? Have a care,” continued she, raising her voice again, “that Egypt, after learning my fate, may not call thee a faith-breaker.”
The prince turned his head and laughed. But he sat down, and said,—
“My teacher was right, indeed, when he warned me against women: Ye are like ripe peaches in the eyes of a man whose tongue thirst has parched, but peaches ripe only in appearance. Woe to the fool who dares bite that fruit of fair seeming; instead of cooling sweetness he will find a nest of wasps that will sting not his lips alone, but his heart also.”
“Wilt thou complain? Wilt thou not spare me even this shame after I have sacrificed to thee both my dignity of priestess and my virtue?”
The heir shook his head and smiled.
“Never could I have thought,” said he, after a while, “that the story told by laborers before bedtime could have come true. But to-day I see the truth of it. Listen to me, Kama; perhaps thou wilt stop, and not force me to withdraw the good-will which I have for thee.”
“He wishes now to tell a fable!” said the priestess, bitterly. “Thou hast told me one already, and I was profited by hearing it.”
“This will profit thee if thou understand it.”
“Will there be anything about Jewish brats in it?”
“Of priestesses there will be; only listen carefully.
“The following thing happened here long ago, in Pi-Bast:[17]
[17]A true story.
[17]A true story.
“Once Prince Satni, on the square before the temple of Ptah, saw a very beautiful woman. She surpassed all whomhe had met before, and, what was more noteworthy, she had much gold on her person.
“She pleased the prince greatly, and when he learned that she was the daughter of the high priest, he sent his equerry to her with the following offer,—
“‘I will give thee gold rings if thou wilt pass one short hour in my company.’
“The equerry went to the beautiful Tbubui and repeated the words of Prince Satni. When she had listened to him politely, she answered as became a well-bred young lady,—
“‘I am the daughter of a high priest; I am innocent, no low girl. So, if the prince wishes to have the pleasure of knowing me, let him come to my house, where everything will be ready, and where acquaintance with him will not expose me to the scandal of all the street gossips.’
“Prince Satni went to Tbubui’s chambers, the walls of which were covered with lapis lazuli and pale green enamel. There were also many couches decked with regal linen, and not a few one-legged tables on which gold goblets were standing. One of these goblets was filled with wine and given to the prince, while Tbubui said to him, ‘Be gracious, and drink.’ To this the prince answered, ‘Thou knowest that I have not come to drink wine here.’ Still the two sat down at the feast, during which Tbubui wore a long, heavy robe fastened at her neck closely. When the prince, excited by wine, wished to kiss her, she repelled him, and answered,—
“‘This house will be thine. But remember that I am no street woman, but an innocent maiden. If thou wish from me obedience, swear faith, and convey to me thy property.’
“‘Let the scribe come!’ cried the prince. When they brought in the scribe, Satni commanded him to write an act of betrothal, also a deed by which he transferred to Tbubui all his money, and all his property, personal and real.
“An hour later the servants announced to the prince that his children were waiting in the lower story. Tbubui left him then, but returned soon, attired in a transparent gauze robe. Satni wished again to embrace her, but she repelled him a second time, saying: ‘This house will be thine. But, since I am no common woman, but an innocent maiden, if thou wishto possess me, let thy children renounce every claim, lest they raise lawsuits hereafter with my children.’
“Satni called up his children, and commanded them to sign an act renouncing all claim to his possessions. They did so. But when, roused by long resistance, he approached Tbubui, she repelled him, saying,—
“‘This house will be thine. But I am no chance passing woman, I am a pure maiden. If thou love me, give consent to kill those children lest they take property from my children.’”
“This is rather a long story,” said Kama, impatiently.
“It will end right away. And dost thou know, Kama, what Satni replied to this: ‘If thou wish, let the crime be accomplished.’ Tbubui gave no chance to have these words said a second time. Before their father’s eyes she commanded to kill the children, and throw their bloody limbs to dogs and cats outside the windows. Only after that did Satni enter her chamber and repose on her bed, inlaid with ivory.”
“Tbubui did well not to trust to men’s promises,” said the irritated Kama.
“But Satni,” said the heir, “did better. He woke, for his dreadful crime was a dream only. And remember this, Kama, the surest way to rouse a man from love’s intoxication is to curse his son.”
“Be at rest, lord,” said Kama, gloomily, “I will never mention hereafter thy son or my sorrow.”
“And I will not withdraw my favor from thee, and thou wilt be happy,” said Rameses, in conclusion.
AMONG the inhabitants of Pi-Bast alarming news had begun to circulate concerning the Libyans. It was said that those barbarian warriors, disbanded by the priests, began by begging on the road homeward, then they stole, and finally they fell to robbing and burning Egyptian villages, murdering the inhabitants meanwhile.
In the course of a few days they attacked and destroyed thetowns of Chinen-su, Pinat, and Kasa, south of Lake Moeris, and they cut down also a caravan of merchants and Egyptian pilgrims returning from the oasis Uit-Mehe. The entire western boundary of the state was in peril, and even from Terenuthis inhabitants began to flee. And in the neighborhood beyond that, toward the sea, appeared bands of Libyans, sent, as it were, by the terrible chief, Musawasa, who, it seemed, was to declare a sacred war against Egypt.
Moreover, if any evening a western strip of sky was red for too long a time alarm fell on Pi-Bast. The people gathered along the streets; some of them went out on the flat roofs, or climbed trees, and declared that they saw a fire in Menuf or in Sechem. Some, even, in spite of darkness, saw fleeing people, or Libyan bands marching toward Pi-Bast in long black columns.
Notwithstanding the indignation of people, the rulers of provinces remained indifferent, for the central power issued no order.
Prince Rameses saw this alarm of the people and the indifference of dignitaries. Mad anger seized him, because he received no command from Memphis, and because neither Mefres nor Mentezufis spoke with him of dangers threatening Egypt.
But since neither priest visited him, and both, as it were, avoided conversation, the viceroy did not seek them, nor did he make any military preparations.
At last he ceased to visit the regiments stationed at Pi-Bast, but assembling at the palace all the young nobles, he amused himself and feasted, repressing in his heart indignation at the priests and anxiety for the fate of the country.
“Thou wilt see!” said he once to Tutmosis. “The holy prophets will manage us so that Musawasa will take Lower Egypt, and we shall have to flee to Thebes, if not to Sunnu, unless the Ethiopians drive us also from that place.”
“Thou speakest truth,” replied Tutmosis; “our rulers’ acts resemble those of traitors.”
The first day in the month of Hator (August-September) a great feast was given at the palace of the viceroy. They began to amuse themselves at two in the afternoon, andbefore sunset all present were drunk. It went so far that men and women rolled on the floor, which was wet with wine and covered with flowers and pieces of broken pitchers.
The prince was the soberest among them. He was not on the floor, he was sitting in an armchair, holding on his knees two beautiful dancers, one of whom was giving him wine, while the other was pouring strong perfumes on his head.
At this moment an adjutant entered the hall, and, stepping over a number of guests lying prostrate, hurried up to Rameses.
“Worthy lord,” said he, “the holy Mefres and the holy Mentezufis wish to speak at once with thee.”
The viceroy pushed the girls away, and with red face, stained garments, and tottering steps went to his chamber in the upper story. At sight of him Mefres and Mentezufis looked at each other.
“What do ye wish, worthy fathers?” asked the prince, dropping into an armchair.
“I do not know whether thou wilt be able to hear us,” answered the anxious Mentezufis.
“Ah! do ye think that I am tipsy?” cried the prince. “Have no fear. To-day all Egypt is either so mad or so stupid that most sense is found among drinkers.”
The priests frowned, but Mentezufis began,—
“Thou knowest, worthiness, that our lord and the supreme council determined to disband twenty thousand mercenary warriors?”
“Well, if I do not know?” said the heir. “Ye have not deigned to ask my advice in a question so difficult to determine, ye have not even thought it worth while to inform me that four regiments are disbanded, and that those men, because of hunger, are attacking our cities.”
“It seems to me, worthiness, that thou art criticising the commands of his holiness the pharaoh,” interrupted Mentezufis.
“Not of his holiness!” cried the prince, stamping, “but of those traitors who, taking advantage of the sickness of my father, wish to sell Egypt to Assyrians and Libyans.”
The priests were astounded. No Egyptian had ever used words of that kind.
“Permit, prince, that we return in a couple of hours, when thou shalt have calmed thyself,” said Mefres.
“There is no need of that. I know what is happening on our western boundary. Or rather it is not I who know, but my cooks, stable-boys, and laundrymen. Perhaps then ye will have the goodness, worthy fathers, to communicate your plans to me.”
Mentezufis assumed a look of indifference, and said,—
“The Libyans have rebelled and are collecting bands with the intention of attacking Egypt.”
“I understand.”
“At the desire, therefore, of his holiness,” continued Mentezufis, “and of the supreme council, thou art to take troops from Lower Egypt and annihilate the rebels.”
“Where is the order?”
Mentezufis drew forth from his bosom a parchment provided with seals, and gave it to the viceroy.
“From this moment then I command, and am the supreme power in this province,” said the viceroy.
“It is as thou hast said.”
“And I have the right to hold a military council with you?”
“Of course,” replied Mefres. “Even this moment—”
“Sit down,” interrupted the prince.
Both priests obeyed his command.
“I ask because in view of my plans I must know why the Libyan regiments were disbanded.”
“Others too will be disbanded,” caught up Mentezufis. “The supreme council desires to disband twenty thousand of the most expensive warriors, so that the treasury of his holiness may save four thousand talents yearly, without which want may soon threaten the court of the pharaoh.”
“A thing which does not threaten the most wretched of Egyptian priests,” added Rameses.
“Thou forgettest, worthiness, that it is not proper to call a priest wretched,” replied Mentezufis. “And if want threatens none of them, the merit is found in their moderate style of living.”
“In that case the statues drink the wine which is carried every day to the temples, while stone gods dress their wives ingold and jewels,” jeered Rameses. “But no more about your abstemiousness. Not to fill the treasury of the pharaoh has the council of priests disbanded twenty thousand troops and opened the gates of Egypt to bandits.”
“But why?”
“This is why: to please King Assar. And since his holiness would not agree to give Phœnicia to Assyria, ye wish to weaken the state in another way, by disbanding hired troops and rousing war on our western boundary.”
“I take the gods to witness that thou dost astonish us, worthiness,” cried Mentezufis.
“The shades of the pharaohs would be more astonished if they heard that in this same Egypt in which the power of the pharaoh is hampered, some Chaldean trickster is influencing the fate of the nation.”
“I do not believe my own ears,” replied Mentezufis. “What dost thou say of some Chaldean?”
The viceroy laughed sneeringly.
“I speak of Beroes. If thou, holy man, hast not heard of him, ask the revered Mefres, and if he has forgotten turn then to Herhor and Pentuer.”
“That is a great secret of our temples—”
“A foreign adventurer came like a thief to Egypt, and put on the members of the supreme council a treaty so shameful that we should be justified in signing it only after we had lost battles, lost all our regiments and both capitals. And to think that this was done by one man, most assuredly a spy of King Assar! And our sages let themselves be so charmed by his eloquence, that, when the pharaoh would not let them give up Phœnicia, they disbanded regiments in every case, and caused war on our western boundary. Have we ever heard of a deed like this?” continued Rameses, no longer master of himself. “When it was just the time to raise the army to three hundred thousand and hurry on to Nineveh, those pious maniacs discharged twenty thousand men and fired their own dwelling-house.”
Mefres, still and pale, listened to these jeers. At last he said,—
“I know not, worthy lord, from what source thou hast takenthy information. May it be as pure as the hearts of the highest counsellors! But let us suppose that thou art right, that some Chaldean priest had power to bring the council to sign a burdensome treaty with Assyria. If it happened thus, whence knowest thou that that priest was not an envoy of the gods, who through his lips forewarned us of dangers hanging over Egypt?”
“How do the Chaldeans enjoy your confidence to such a degree?” asked the viceroy.
“The Chaldean priests are elder brothers of the Egyptians,” interrupted Mentezufis.
“Then perhaps the Assyrian king is the master of the pharaoh?”
“Blaspheme not, worthiness,” said Mefres, severely. “Thou art pushing into the most sacred things frivolously, and to do that has proved perilous to men who were greater than thou art.”
“Well, I will not do so. But how is a man to know that one Chaldean is an envoy of the gods, and another a spy of King Assar?”
“By miracles,” answered Mefres. “If, at thy command, prince, this room should fill with spirits, if unseen powers were to bear thee in the air, we should know that thou wert an agent of the immortals, and should respect thy counsel.”
Rameses shrugged his shoulders. “I, too, have seen spirits: a young girl made them. And I saw a juggler lying in the air in the amphitheatre.”
“But thou didst not see the fine strings which his four assistants had in their teeth,” put in Mentezufis.
The prince laughed again, and, remembering what Tutmosis had told him about the devotions of Mefres, he said in a jeering tone,—
“In the days of Cheops a certain high priest wished absolutely to fly through the air. With this object he prayed to the gods, and commanded his inferiors to see whether unseen powers were not raising him. And what will ye say, holy fathers? From that time forth there was no day when prophets did not assure the high priest that he was borne in the air,—not very high, it is true, about a finger from the pavement.But—what is that to thy power, worthiness?” inquired he of Mefres, suddenly.
The high priest, when he heard his own story, shook in the chair, and would have fallen had not Mentezufis supported him.
Rameses bustled about, gave the old man water to drink, rubbed vinegar on his temples and forehead, and fanned him.
Soon the holy Mefres recovered, rose from the chair, and said to Mentezufis,—
“May we not go now?”
“I think so.”
“But what am I to do?” asked the prince, feeling that something evil had happened.
“Accomplish the duties of leader,” said Mentezufis, coldly.
Both priests bowed to the prince ceremoniously, and departed. Rameses was not entirely sober, but a great weight fell on his heart. At that moment he understood that he had committed two grievous errors: He had confessed to the priests that he knew their great secret, and he had jeered, without mercy, at Mefres. He would have given a year of his life could he have blotted from their memories all that drunken conversation. But it was too late then to do so.
“It cannot be hidden,” thought he. “I have betrayed myself and procured mortal enemies. The position is difficult. The struggle begins at a moment which is for me most unfavorable. But let us go on. More than one pharaoh has struggled with the priests and conquered, even without having very strong allies.”
Still he felt the danger of his position so clearly that at that moment he swore by the sacred head of his father that he would never drink wine again freely. He summoned Tutmosis. The confidant appeared at once, perfectly sober.
“We have a war, and I am commander,” said the viceroy.
Tutmosis bent to the earth.
“I will never get drunk again,” added the prince. “And knowest thou why?”
“A leader should abstain from wine and stupefying perfumes,” said Tutmosis.
“I have not thought of that,—that is nothing; but I have babbled out a secret before the priests.”
“What secret?” cried the terrified Tutmosis.
“This,—that I hate them, and jeer at their miracles.”
“Oh, that is no harm. They never calculate on the love of people.”
“And that I know their political secrets,” added the prince.
“Ei!” hissed Tutmosis. “That is the one thing that was not needed.”
“No help for it now,” said Rameses. “Send out our couriers immediately to the regiments; let the chiefs meet to-morrow morning in a military council. Give command to light alarm signals, so that all the troops of Lower Egypt may march toward the western border to-morrow. Go to the nomarchs here, and command them to inform all the others to collect clothing, provisions, and weapons.”
“We shall have trouble with the Nile,” said Tutmosis.
“Then let every boat and barge be held at the arms of the Nile to ferry over troops. We must summon every nomarch to occupy himself in fitting out reserves.”
Meanwhile Mefres and Mentezufis returned to their dwellings in the temple of Ptah. When they were alone in a cell, the high priest raised his hands, and exclaimed,—
“O Trinity of immortal gods,—Osiris, Isis, and Horus,—save Egypt from destruction! Since the world became the world, no pharaoh has ever uttered so many blasphemies as we have heard to-day from that stripling. What do I say, pharaoh?—No enemy of Egypt, no Hittite, Phœnician, or Libyan has ever dared so to insult priestly immunity.”
“Wine makes a man transparent,” answered Mentezufis.
“But in that youthful heart is a nest of serpents. He insults the priestly rank, he jeers at miracles, he has no belief in gods.”
“But this concerns me most,” said Mentezufis, thoughtfully,—“how did he learn of our negotiations with Beroes? for he knows them, I will swear to that.”
“A dreadful treason has been committed,” added Mefres, seizing his head.
“A very wonderful thing! There were four of us.”
“Not at all four of us. The elder priestess of Isis knew of Beroes, two priests who showed him the road to the temple ofSet, and a priest who received him at the door. But wait! that priest spends all his time in underground places. But if he overheard?”
“In every case he did not sell the secret to a stripling, but to some one more important; and that is dangerous.”
The high priest of the temple of Ptah, the holy Sem, knocked at the door of the cell.
“Peace to you,” said he, entering.
“Blessing to thy heart.”
“I came, for ye were raising your voices as if some misfortune had happened. Does this war with the wretched Libyans not surprise you?”
“What dost thou think of the prince,—the heir to the throne?” asked Mentezufis, interrupting him.
“I think,” answered Sem, “that he must be quite satisfied with the war and supreme command. He is a born hero. When I look at him I remember that lion, Rameses the Great. This youth is ready to rush at all the bands of Libya, and, indeed, he may scatter them.”
“This youth,” added Mefres, “is capable of overturning all our temples, and wiping Egypt from the face of the earth.”
Holy Sem drew forth quickly a gold amulet which he wore on his breast, and whispered,—
“Flee, evil words, to the desert. Go far, and harm not the just. What art thou saying, worthiness?” continued he, more loudly, and in a tone of reproach.
“The worthy Mefres speaks truth,” said Mentezufis. “Thy head would ache, and thy stomach also, should human lips repeat the blasphemous words which we have heard this day from that giddy stripling.”
“Jest not, O prophet,” said the high priest Sem, with indignation. “Sooner would I believe that water burns and air quenches than that Rameses would commit blasphemy.”
“He did so in seeming drunkenness,” said Mefres, maliciously.
“Even if he were drunk—I do not deny that the prince is frivolous, and a rioter; but a blasphemer—”
“So, too, did we think,” said Mentezufis. “And we were so sure of knowing his character that when he returned fromthe temple of Hator we ceased even to exercise control over him.”
“Thou wert sparing of gold to pay men for watching,” said Mefres. “Thou seest now what results are involved in a neglect which seemed slight to thee.”
“But what has happened?” inquired Sem, impatiently.
“I will answer briefly: the prince reviles the gods.”
“Oho!”
“He criticises the commands of the pharaoh.”
“Is it possible?”
“He calls the supreme council traitors.”
“But—”
“But from whom did he learn of the coming of Beroes, even of his interview with Mefres, Herhor, and Pentuer, in the temple of Set?”
The high priest Sem, seizing his head with both hands, walked up and down through the cell.
“Impossible!” said he. “Impossible! Has any one cast a spell over that young man? Perhaps the Phœnician priestess, whom he stole from the temple.”
This consideration seemed to Mentezufis so apposite that he looked at Mefres. But the angry high priest would not be turned aside for an instant.
“Let us see,” said he. “But first we must investigate and learn what the prince was doing day by day, after his return from the temple of Hator. He had too much freedom, too many relations with unbelievers and with enemies of Egypt. But thou wilt help us, worthy Sem.”
Because of this decision, the high priest Sem ordered to summon for the following day a solemn service at the temple of Ptah.
So they stationed on squares and at street corners, even in the fields, heralds of the priests, and called all the people with flutes and trumpets.
And when a sufficient number of hearers had assembled, they informed them that in the temple of Ptah there would be prayers and processions during three days, to the intent that the good god would bless Egyptian arms and crush Libyans; that he would send down on their leader, Musawasa, leprosy, insanity, and blindness.
As the priests wished, so was it done. From morning till late at night common people of every occupation crowded around the temple; the aristocracy and the wealthy citizens assembled in the forecourt; while the priests of the city and of the neighboring provinces made sacrifices to Ptah and repeated prayers in the most holy chapel.
Thrice daily did a solemn procession issue forth, carrying in a golden boat, concealed by curtains, the revered statue of the divinity; whereat the people prostrated themselves and confessed their faults loudly, while prophets disposed in the crowd numerously helped them to penitence by appropriate questions. A similar thing was done in the forecourt of the temple. But since officials and rich people did not like to accuse themselves openly, the holy fathers took them aside, and gave advice and exhortation in whispers.
In the afternoon the service was most solemn, for at that time the troops marching westward came to receive the blessing of the high priest, and strengthen the power of amulets which had the quality of weakening blows from the enemy.
Sometimes thunder was heard in the temple, and at night, above the pylons, there was lightning. This was a sign that the god had heard some one’s prayers, or was conversing with the priesthood.
When, after the ending of the solemnity, the three dignitaries—Sem, Mefres, and Mentezufis—met for consultation, the position had become clearer.
The solemnity had brought the temple about forty talents, but sixty talents had been given out in presents or in paying the debts of various persons of the aristocracy as well as of the highest military circles.
They had collected the following information:—
A report was current in the army, that when Prince Rameses mounted the throne, he would begin a war with Assyria, which would assure great profit to those taking part in it. The lowest soldier, they said, would not return without a thousand drachmas, or perhaps a still larger sum.
It was whispered among people that when the pharaoh returned with victory from Nineveh, he would give slaves to the earth-tillers, and remit for a number of years all taxes.
The aristocracy, on its part, judged that the new pharaoh would, first of all, take from priests and return to nobles all lands which had become temple property, and would pay also the debts of nobles. It was said, too, that the coming pharaoh would govern independently, without a supreme priestly council.
Finally, in all social circles there reigned a conviction that Rameses, to secure the aid of Phœnicia, had had recourse to the goddess Istar,[18]to whom he showed marked devotion. In every case it was certain that the heir had once visited the temple of Istar, and had seen, in the night, certain miracles. Finally, rumors were current among Asiatics that Rameses had made immense presents to the temple, and in return had taken thence a priestess to confirm him in the faith of the goddess.