Chapter XXXV…

Chapter XXXV

When Ramses on the following morning visited his son, he found Sarah weeping. He asked what the cause was. She answered at first that nothing troubled her; then she said that she was sad. At last she fell at his feet and cried bitterly.

"My lord," whispered she, "I know that Thou hast ceased to love me, but at least avoid danger."

"Who said that I have ceased to love thee?" asked Ramses, astonished.

"Thou hast in thy house three new women, ladies of high family."

"Ah, so that is the trouble?"

"Besides, Thou art exposing thyself for a fourth, a wicked Phoenician."

The prince was confused. Whence could Sarah know of Kama, and know that she was wicked?

"As dust squeezes into caskets, so scandals work into the quietest houses," said Ramses. "Who has spoken to thee of a Phoenician?"

"Do I know who? My heart and an evil omen."

"Then are there omens?"

"Terrible. One old priestess learned, I suppose from a crystal ball, that we shall all perish through Phoenicians, especially I and my son," burst out Sarah.

"And Thou who believest in One, in Jehovah, fearest the fictions of some stupid old woman who is perhaps intriguing? Where is thy great Deity?"

"My God is only mine, but those others are thine; so I must revere them."

"Then that old woman spoke to thee of Phoenicians?" asked Ramses.

"She told me long ago, while in Memphis, that I should guard against a Phoenician woman," answered Sarah. "Here all are speaking of a Phoenician priestess. I cannot tell; maybe it is only something wandering in my troubled head."

"People say even that were it not for her spell Thou wouldst not have sprung into the arena. Oh, if the bull had killed thee! Even today, when I think of the evil which might have happened, the heart grows cold in my bosom."

"Laugh, Sarah," interrupted Ramses, joyously. "She whom I take to myself stands so high that no fear should reach her, still less, stupid scandal."

"But misfortune? Is there a mountain top so high that the missile of misfortune may not reach it?"

"Thy sickness has wearied thee, and fever has disturbed thy mind; that is why Thou art troubled without reason. Be quiet, and watch over my son. A man," said he, in deep thought, "be he Greek or Phoenician, can harm only beings like himself, but not us, who are gods of this world."

"What didst Thou say of a Greek? What Greek?" asked Sarah, alarmed.

"Did I say Greek? I know nothing of a Greek. Such a word may have slipped from me; perhaps Thou didst not hear correctly."

He kissed Sarah and his son, and took farewell of them; but he did not expel fear.

"We must say once, and decisively," thought he, "that in Egypt no secret is hidden. The priests and my attendants follow me, even when they are drunk, or pretend to be, and the serpent eyes of Phoenicia are gazing at Kama. If they have not hidden her before me thus far, they must have small regard for her virtue. Moreover, before whom? Before me, to whom they themselves discovered the deceptions of their own temple. Kama will belong to me. They are too much involved in this to think of bringing my auger on their heads by opposition."

A couple of days later the holy Mentezufis, assistant of the worthy Herhor, came to the erpatr. Ramses, looking at the pale face and downcast eyes of the prophet, divined that he too knew of the Phoenician woman, and perhaps wished, as a priest, to reprimand the viceroy. But this time Mentezufis did not mention affairs touching the heart of the heir.

When he had greeted the prince, with an official mien, the prophet took the seat indicated, and began,

"From the Memphis palace of the lord of eternity they have informed me that in recent days the Chaldean high priest Istubar, the court astrologer and counselor of his grace King Assar, has come to Pi-Bast."

The prince desired to tell Mentezufis the reason of Istubar's coming, but he bit his lips and was silent.

"The renowned Istubar," continued the priest, "has brought documents in virtue of which the worthy Sargon, a satrap, and a relative of King Assar, remains with us as ambassador of that mighty sovereign."

The prince was near bursting into laughter. The seriousness with which Mentezufis had thought fit to lay bare a small part of the secrets long known to Ramses filled him with contempt and delight also.

"This trickster," thought the prince, "has not an inkling in his heart that I know all their villainy."

"The worthy Sargon and the revered Istubar," continued Mentezufis, "will go to Memphis to kiss the feet of his holiness. But first, worthiness, thou, as viceroy, wilt be pleased to receive both these dignitaries graciously, and their suite also."

"Very willingly," answered the prince, "and on that occasion I shall ask them when Assyria will pay the arrears of tribute?"

"Wouldst Thou do that, worthiness?" asked the priest, looking him in the eyes.

"That first of all; our treasury needs tribute."

Mentezufis rose suddenly from his seat, and said, in solemn though lowered accents,

"O viceroy of our lord, and giver of life, in the name of his holiness I forbid thee to speak with anyone of tribute, but, above all, with Sargon, Istubar, or any man of their suite."

The prince grew pale.

"Priest," said he, standing up also, "on what basis dost Thou speak to me as a superior?"

Mentezufis drew aside his robe, and took from his neck a chain on which was one of the pharaoh's rings.

The viceroy looked at the ring, kissed it with devotion, returned it to the priest, and answered,

"I will fulfill the command of his holiness, my lord and father."

Again both sat down, and the prince asked the priest,

"Canst Thou explain to me, worthiness, why Assyria should not pay us tribute which would save the state treasury from embarrassment?"

"Because we have not the power to force Assyria to pay us tribute," answered Mentezufis, coldly. "We have an army of a hundred and twenty thousand, Assyria has three hundred thousand warriors. I say this to thee, worthiness, in perfect confidence, as to a high state official."

"I understand. But why did the ministry of war, in which Thou servest, decrease our valiant army sixty thousand men?"

"To increase the income of his holiness twenty thousand talents," replied the priest.

"Aha! Tell me, then, worthiness," continued the prince, "with what object is Sargon going to the feet of the pharaoh?"

"I know not."

"Aha! But why should I not know, I, who am heir to the throne?"

"Because there are state secrets which barely a few dignitaries know."

"And which even my most worthy father may not know?"

"Assuredly he may not, for there are things which even his holiness may not know, since he does not possess the highest priestly consecration."

"It is wonderful!" said the prince, after some thought. "Egypt is the property of the pharaoh, and still things may be done in it which are unknown to him. Explain this to me, worthiness."

"Egypt is first of all, and even only and exclusively, the property of Amon," said the priest. "There is absolute need, therefore, that only those should know the highest secrets to whom Amon has declared his plans and purposes."

The prince, while listening, felt as if people were turning him on a bed of dagger points under which fire was burning.

Mentezufis wished to rise; Ramses detained him.

"One word more," said he, mildly. "Is Egypt so weak that she cannot even mention the Assyrian tribute?"

He panted.

"If Egypt is so wretched," continued he, "then what assurance is there that Assyria will not attack us?"

"We may assure ourselves by a treaty," answered the priest.

The heir waved his hand.

"There are no treaties for the weak!" said he. "Silver tablets inscribed with agreements will not guard boundaries unless spears and swords stand behind them."

"But who has told thee, worthiness, that they will not stand on our land?"

"Thou thyself. One hundred and twenty thousand men must yield before three hundred thousand. Were Assyrians to come here, Egypt would be turned into a desert."

Mentezufis eyes flashed.

"If they were to invade us," cried he, "their bones would never touch their own country! We should arm all the nobles, all the regiments of laborers, even convicts in the quarries. We should take the treasures from all temples. And Assyria would meet five hundred thousand Egyptian warriors."

Ramses was delighted at this outburst of patriotism in Mentezufis. He seized him by the hand, and said,

"Then, if we are able to have such an army, why do we not attack Babylon? Is not the great warrior Nitager imploring us for years to do so? Is not his holiness alarmed by the movement in Assyria? If we let them concentrate their forces, the struggle will be most difficult; but if we begin ourselves."

The priest interrupted him,

"Dost Thou know, prince, what a war is to which one must go through a desert? Who will assure us that before we could reach the Euphrates half our army and carriers would not perish from hardship?"

"That would be cured by one battle," interrupted Ramses.

"A battle!" repeated the priest. "But does the prince know what a battle is?"

"I hope so!" replied the heir, striking his sword.

Mentezufis shrugged his shoulders.

"But I say, lord, that Thou dost not know what a battle is; Thou hast even an entirely false idea of it from maneuvers at which Thou hast always been the victor, though more than once Thou shouldst have been conquered."

The prince frowned. The priest put his hand beneath his robe, and said quickly,

"Guess what I have in my hand, worthiness."

"What?" repeated Ramses, with astonishment.

"Guess quickly and truly," insisted the priest, "for if Thou art mistaken two of thy regiments perish."

"Thou hast a ring," said the heir, who had grown joyous.

Mentezufis opened his hand; there was a bit of papyrus in it.

"But what have I now?" asked the priest again.

"A ring."

"Well, not a ring, but an amulet of the divine Hator. Dost see, lord, that is a battle? In time of battle Fate holds out her hand every moment, and commands us to guess at the very quickest the surprise enclosed in it. We succeed, or we fail; but woe to the man who fails oftener than he guesses; and a hundredfold more to those on whom Fate turns her back and forces into blunders."

"But still I believe, and I feel here," cried the heir, striking his breast, "that Assyria must be trampled."

"Oh, that the god Amon might speak through thy mouth," said Mentezufis. "What Thou sayst is true; Assyria will be humbled, perhaps even with thy hands, but not immediately not immediately."

The priest took farewell; Ramses remained alone. In his head and his heart raged a hurricane.

"So Hiram was right in saying that they deceive us," thought he. "I am certain now that our priests have made a treaty with the Chaldeans which his holiness will be forced to sanction. Has anyone ever heard of a thing so monstrous? He, the lord of the living, and of the western world, must sign a treaty invented by intriguers!"

Breath failed him.

"The holy Mentezufis has betrayed himself. It is true, then, that in case of need Egypt can put forth an army of half a million? I did not even dream of such forces. Still they think that I fear their fables about fate, which commands us to solve riddles. Only let me have two hundred thousand men, trained like Greek and Libyan regiments, and I would undertake to solve all riddles on earth and in the heavens."

"That is a hot head," thought the worthy Mentezufis, while returning to his cell, "a woman hunter, an adventurer, but strong. After the weak pharaoh of today he reminds us rather of Ramses the Great. In ten years the stars may change; he will ripen and crush Assyria. Of Nineveh there will remain only ruins, sacred Babylon will find its true place, and the one supreme God, the God of Egyptian and Chaldean prophets, will reign from the Libyan desert to the sacred Ganges."

"If our youth would not make himself ridiculous by night pilgrimages to the Phoenician priestess; if he should be seen in the garden of Astaroth, or if people should think that the erpatr was inclining his ear to the faith of Phoenicia. Not much is needed in Lower Egypt to reject the ancient gods. What a mixture there is of nations here!"

Some days later the worthy Sargon informed the viceroy officially of his position as ambassador, declared the wish to salute him, and begged for an Egyptian escort which might conduct him with all safety and honor to the feet of the pharaoh.

The prince deferred his answer two days, and appointed an audience to Sargon at the expiration of two other days. The Assyrian, accustomed to eastern delay in journeys and business, was offended in no way, and wasted no time. He drank from morning till evening, played dice with Hiram and other rich men from Asia. In free moments he slipped away, like Ramses, to Kama.

As an elderly and a practical man, he offered the priestess rich presents at every visit. His feelings he explained as follows:

"O Kama, why sit in Pi-Bast and grow thin here? While young, the service of Astaroth may please thee; but when old, a wretched fate will present itself. They will take thy costly robes from thee, and put a younger woman in the temple; Thou wilt earn, then, a handful of roasted barley by telling fortunes, or by nursing women in childbirth. Had the gods in punishment created me a woman, I should choose to be the mother and not the nurse attending her."

"Hence I say," continued Sargon, "leave the temple and join my household. I will give thee ten talents in gold; I will give forty cows, and of wheat a hundred measures. The priests will fear chastisement from the gods, so as to gain from me a better bargain. But I shall not yield a drachma; I may add, at most, a few sheep to let them celebrate a solemn service. The heavenly Astaroth will appear then, and will free thee from vows if I add a gold chain or a goblet."

While listening to these statements Kama bit her lips to restrain laughter; and he continued,

"If Thou go with me to Nineveh, Thou wilt be a great lady. Thou shalt have a palace; I will give thee also horses, a litter, slaves, and servants. In one month Thou wilt pour out on thy person more perfume than Thou offerest here in one year to thy goddess. And who knows," concluded he, "Thou mayst please King Assar; if so, he would take thee to his palace. Thou wouldst be the happiest of women, and I should get back what I had spent on thee."

At the palace of the heir, on the day appointed to receive Sargon, Egyptian troops were drawn up, and a throng of people were standing near, eager for spectacles.

The Assyrian retinue appeared about midday, the hour when heat is greatest. In front inarched policemen armed with swords and sticks; behind them a number of naked swift runners, and three horses. Those were trumpeters and a herald. At the corner of each street the trumpeters sounded a signal, and the herald called in a loud voice: "Behold, Sargon is approaching; the ambassador of the mighty Assar, a relative of the king, a lord of immense wealth, a conqueror in battles, a ruler of provinces. Give him, O people, due homage as a friend of the ruler of Egypt!"

After the trumpeters rode Assyrian cavalry, with pointed caps, in narrow skirts and jackets. Their shaggy and enduring horses had on their foreheads and breasts bronze armor patterned as fish-scales. Next appeared infantry in helmets, and long mantles reaching the earth. One division was armed with heavy clubs, the next with bows, the third with spears and shields. Each man had, besides, a sword, and was armored.

After the soldiers came Sargon's horses, chariots, and litters, surrounded by servants in white, red, and green garments. After them came five elephants with litters on their backs; on one rode Sargon, on another the Chaldean priest Istubar.

The procession was closed by warriors on horseback and on foot, and by harsh Assyrian music, produced by trumpets, drums, metallic plates, and pipes squealing shrilly.

Prince Ramses, surrounded by priests, nobility, and officers, dressed in various colors, and richly, was awaiting the ambassador in the great hall of audience, which was open on all sides. The heir was gladsome, knowing that the Assyrians were bringing gifts which, in the eyes of Egyptians, might pass as tribute. But when he heard the immense voice of a herald in the court praising the might of Sargon, he frowned. "When the expression flew to his ears, that King Assar was the friend of the pharaoh, he grew angry. His nostrils dilated like those of an angry bull, and sparks flashed in his eyeballs. Seeing this, the officers and nobility began to assume threatening faces, and put hands to their sword-hilts. The holy Mentezufis noted their looks, and cried,

"In the name of his holiness, I command nobles and officers to receive the worthy Sargon with the respect due a great king's ambassador!"

The heir frowned, and strode impatiently along the raised platform where his viceregal chair was standing. But the disciplined officers and the nobles grew silent, knowing that they could not trifle with the assistant of the war minister.

Meanwhile, in the court the immense and heavily armed Assyrian warriors stood in three ranks, opposite the half naked and slender warriors of Egypt. The two sides looked at each other like a band of tigers at a herd of rhinoceroses. In the hearts of each ancient hatred was smoldering. But command towered above hatred.

At that moment the elephants entered, the Egyptian and Assyrian trumpets roared, the troops of both armies raised their weapons, the people fell on their faces, while the Assyrian dignitaries, Sargon and Istubar, were descending from their litters.

In the hall Prince Ramses sat on an elevated chair beneath a baldachin, while at the entrance door appeared the herald.

"Most worthy lord," said he, turning to the heir, "the ambassador of the great King Assar, the renowned Sargon, and his associate, the pious prophet Istubar, desire to salute thee and render thee honor as viceroy and heir to the pharaoh, may he live through eternity!"

"Ask those dignitaries to enter and comfort my heart by the sight of their persons," answered the viceroy.

Sargon entered the hall with a clattering and clinking. He was dressed in a long green robe, thickly embroidered with gold. At his side, in a snow-white mantle, walked the devout Istubar, and behind them stately Assyrian lords carried gifts for the viceroy.

Sargon approached the elevation, and said in the Assyrian language, which an interpreter repeated in Egyptian immediately,

"I, Sargon, a leader, a satrap, and a relative of the most mighty King Assar, come to salute thee, O viceroy of the most mighty pharaoh, and in sign of eternal friendship I offer gifts to thee."

The heir rested his palms on his knees, and sat as motionless as the statues of his ancestors.

"Interpreter," said Sargon, "hast Thou repeated badly to the prince my kindly greeting?"

Mentezufis, standing near the elevation, turned toward Ramses.

"Prince," whispered he, "the Lord Sargon is waiting for a gracious answer."

"Then answer him that I do not understand by what right he speaks to me as if he were my equal in dignity."

Mentezufis was confused, which still more angered the prince, whose lips began to tremble; and again his eyes flashed. But the Chaldean, Istubar, understanding Egyptian, said quickly to Sargon,

"Let us fall on our faces."

"Why should I fall on my face?" inquired the indignant Sargon.

"Fall, unless Thou wish to lose the favor of King Assar, and perhaps thy head also."

Thus speaking, Istubar lay on the floor at full length, and Sargon next to him.

"Why should I lie on my belly before that stripling?" muttered Sargon, indignantly.

"Because he is viceroy," answered Istubar.

"Have I not been viceroy of my lord?"

"But he will be king, and Thou wilt not."

"What are the ambassadors of the most mighty King Assar discussing?" inquired the prince, now satisfied, of the interpreter.

"This: whether they are to show thy worthiness the gifts intended for the pharaoh, or only to give those sent to thee," replied the dexterous interpreter.

"I wish to see the gifts intended for his holiness my father," said the prince, "and I permit the ambassadors to rise."

Sargon rose, purple from rage or weariness, and sat down on the floor cross-legged.

"I knew not," said he, "that I, a relative and an ambassador of the great Assar, should be forced to wipe with my garments dust from the pavement of an Egyptian viceroy."

Mentezufis knew Assyrian, and commanded, without asking Ramses, to bring immediately two benches covered with cushions, on which sat at once the panting Sargon and the calm Istubar.

When Sargon had puffed himself quiet, he gave command to produce a great glass goblet, a steel sword, and to lead up before the entrance two horses decked with gold housings. When his command was obeyed he rose and, inclining, addressed Ramses,

"My lord, King Assar sends thee, O prince, two wonderful horses, may they bear thee only to victory! He sends also a goblet, may gladness always flow to thy heart from it! and a sword the like of which Thou wilt not find in the armory of the mightiest ruler."

He drew from its scabbard a rather long sword, shining like silver, and bent it. The sword bent like a bow, and then sprang out straight again.

"A wonderful weapon, indeed," said Ramses.

"If Thou permit, O viceroy, I will show thee another of its qualities," said Sargon, who, with the chance to praise Assyrian arms, which at that time were excellent, forgot his anger.

At his request one of the Egyptian officers unsheathed a bronze sword and held it as if to attack. Then Sargon raised his steel blade, struck and cut a slice from the weapon of the other man.

In the hall rose a murmur of astonishment, and an intense flush came out on the face of Ramses.

"That foreigner," thought he, "took the bull from me in the circus, he wishes to marry Kama, and now he shows a sword which cuts our blades into shavings."

And he felt a still deeper hatred toward King Assar, toward all Assyrians in general, and toward Sargon especially. But he endeavored to command himself, and with politeness begged the envoy to show those gifts intended for the pharaoh.

They brought immediately immense packs made of fragrant wood; from one of these the higher Assyrian officials took articles, goblets, pitchers, steel weapons, bows made of goat horns, gilded weapons, and shields set with jewels.

But the most splendid gift was a model of King Assar's palace in gold and silver. It looked like three edifices, the second smaller than the first, the third smaller than the second; the second built upon the first, the third upon the second. Each was surrounded thickly by columns, and instead of a roof had a flat pavement. Each entrance was guarded by lions or winged bulls with human heads. On both sides of the stairs stood statues of vassals of the king, bearing gifts; on both sides of the entrance were carved horses in various positions. Sargon removed one wall of the model, and showed rich chambers filled with priceless furniture. Special wonder was roused by the audience hall, where were figures representing the king on a lofty throne, and near him courtiers, warriors, and vassals giving homage.

The entire model was as long as twice the height of a man, and almost as high as the height of one man. The Egyptians whispered that that gift alone was worth a hundred and fifty talents.

When the packs were carried out, the heir invited the ambassadors and their retinue to a feast, during which abundant gifts were bestowed on the Assyrians. Ramses pushed his politeness so far that when one of the women pleased Sargon the prince presented her to the ambassador, of course with her consent and the permission of her mother.

The prince was polite and bountiful, but his face was still clouded. And when Tutmosis asked him if King Assar had not a beautiful palace, the prince answered,

"Its ruins on the ashes of Nineveh would be more beautiful to my eyes."

At that feast the Assyrians were very abstemious. Notwithstanding the abundance of wine, they drank little, and did not shout greatly. Sargon did not even once burst into loud laughter, though that was his custom; he cast down his eyes and thought deeply.

But the two priests Istubar, the Chaldean, and Mentezufis, the Egyptian were calm, like men to whom the future is known, and who command it.

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Chapter XXXVI

AFTER his reception by the viceroy, Sargon delayed at Pi-Bast, waiting for letters from the pharaoh at Memphis. Meanwhile strange reports began to circulate among officers and nobles.

The Phoenicians told, of course as the greatest secret, that the priests, it was unknown for what reason, not only forgave the Assyrians the unpaid tribute, not only freed them once and for all time from paying it, but, besides, to facilitate some northern war for the Assyrians, had concluded a treaty of peace for many years with them.

"The pharaoh," said the Phoenicians, "on learning of these concessions to Assyria fell very ill. Prince Ramses is troubled, and goes around grief-stricken. But both must give way to the priests, for they are not sure of the nobles and the army."

This enraged the Egyptian aristocracy.

"Is it possible?" whispered magnates who were in debt. "Does the dynasty not trust us? Have the priests undertaken to disgrace and ruin Egypt? For it is clear that if Assyria has a war in the distant north somewhere, now is just the time to attack her and fill the reduced treasury of the pharaoh and the aristocracy with plunder."

One and another of the young lords made bold to ask the prince what he thought of Assyrians. Ramses was silent, but the gleam in his eyes and his fixed lips expressed his feelings sufficiently.

"It is clear," whispered the lords, later on, "that this dynasty is bound by the priesthood. It yields not its confidence to nobles; great misfortunes are threatening Egypt."

Silent anger was soon turned into secret councils, which had even the semblance of conspiracy. Though many persons took part in this action, the priests were self-confident, or knew nothing of this in their blindness; and Sargon, though he felt the existing hatred, did not attach to it importance. He learned that Prince Ramses disliked him, but that he attributed to the event in the arena, and to his jealousy in the affair of the priestess. Confident, however, in his position as ambassador, he drank, feasted, and slipped away almost every evening to Kama, who received with increasing favor his courting and his presents.

Such was the condition of mind in the higher circles, when on a certain night the holy Mentezufis rushed to the prince's dwelling, and declared that he must see the viceroy immediately.

The courtiers answered that one of his women was visiting their lord, and that they would not disturb him. But when Mentezufis insisted with increasing emphasis, they called out Ramses.

The prince appeared after a time, and was not even angry.

"What is this?" asked he of the priest. "Are we at war, that Thou takest the trouble to visit me at an hour like the present?"

Mentezufis looked diligently at the prince, and sighed deeply.

"Has the prince not gone out all the evening?" inquired he.

"Not a step."

"Can I give a priest's word for this?"

The heir was astonished.

"It seems to me," answered he, haughtily, "that thy word is not needed, since I have given mine. What does this mean?"

They withdrew to a special chamber.

"Dost Thou know, lord," asked the excited priest, "what has happened, perhaps an hour since? Some young men attacked the worthy Sargon and clubbed him."

"Who were they? Where did this happen?"

"At the villa of a Phoenician priestess named Kama," answered Mentezufis, watching the face of the heir sharply.

"Daring fellows," said the prince, shrugging his shoulders, "to attack such a stalwart man! I suppose that more than one bone was broken in that struggle."

"But to attack an ambassador! Consider, worthy lord, an ambassador protected by the majesty of Assyria and Egypt," said the priest.

"Ho! ho!" laughed the prince. "Then King Assar sends ambassadors even to Phoenician dancers?"

Mentezufis was confused. All at once he tapped his forehead, and cried out also, with laughter,

"See, prince, what a simple man I am, unfamiliar with ceremonies. I forgot that Sargon, strolling about in the night near the house of a suspected woman, is not an ambassador, but an ordinary person."

After a while he added,

"In every case something evil has happened. Sargon may conceive a dislike for us."

"Priest! O priest!" cried Ramses, shaking his head. "Thou hast forgotten this, a thing of much more importance, that Egypt has no need to fear or even care for the good or bad feeling toward her, not merely of Sargon, but King Assar."

Mentezufis was so confused by the appositeness of the remark, that, instead of an answer, he bowed, muttering,

"Prince, the gods have given thee the wisdom of high priests, may their names be blessed! I wanted to issue an order to search for these insolents, but now I prefer to follow thy advice, for Thou art a sage above sages. Tell me, therefore, lord, what I am to do with Sargon and those turbulent young people."

"First of all, wait till morning. As a priest, Thou knowest best that divine sleep often brings good counsel."

"But if before morning I think out nothing?"

"I will visit Sargon in every case, and try to efface that little accident from his memory."

The priest took farewell of Ramses with marks of respect. On the way home, he pondered.

"I will let the heart be torn out of my breast," thought he, "if the prince had to do with that business. He neither beat Sargon, nor persuaded another to beat him; he did not even know of the incident. Whoso judges an affair with such coolness and so pointedly cannot be a confederate. In that case I can begin an investigation, and if we do not mollify the shaggy barbarian I will deliver the disturbers to justice. Beautiful treaty of friendship between two states, which begins by insulting the ambassador!"

Next morning the lordly Sargon lay on his felt couch till midday. He lay thus rather frequently, however, that is, after each drinking- feast. Near him, on a low divan, sat the devout Istubar, with eyes fixed on the ceiling, while muttering a prayer.

"Istubar," sighed the dignitary, "art Thou sure that no man of our court knows of my misfortune?"

"Who could know, if Thou hast seen no one?"

"But the Egyptians!" groaned Sargon.

"Of the Egyptians Mentezufis and the prince know, yes, and those madmen who surely will remember thy fists for a long time."

"They may they may; but it seems to me that the heir was among them, and that his nose is crushed, if not broken."

"The heir has a sound nose, and he was not there, I assure thee."

"In that case," sighed Sargon, "the prince should impale a good number of those rioters on stakes. I am an ambassador; my person is sacred."

"But I tell thee," counseled Istubar, "to cast anger from thy heart, and not to complain even; for if those rioters are arraigned before a court, the whole world will learn that the ambassador of the most worthy King Assar goes about among Phoenicians, and, what is worse, visits them alone during night hours. What wilt Thou answer if thy mortal enemy, the chancellor Lik-Bagus, asks thee, 'Sargon, what Phoenicians didst Thou see, and of what was thy discourse with them at night, outside their temple '?"

Sargon sighed, if sounds like the growling of a lion are to be called sighs.

That moment one of the Assyrian officers rushed in. He knelt down, struck the pavement with his forehead, and said to Sargon,

"Light of our lord's eyes! There is a crowd of magnates and dignitaries of Egypt before the entrance, and at the head of them the heir himself, with the evident intention of giving thee homage."

But before Sargon could utter a command, the prince was in the door of the chamber. He pushed the gigantic watch aside, and approached the felts quickly, while the confused ambassador, with widely opened eyes, knew not what to do, to flee naked to another chamber, or hide beneath the covers.

On the threshold stood a number of Assyrian officers, astonished at the invasion of the heir in opposition to every etiquette. But Istubar made a sign to them, and they vanished.

The prince was alone; he had left his suite in the courtyard.

"Be greeted, O ambassador of a great king, and guest of the pharaoh. I have come to visit thee and inquire if Thou hast need of anything, also to learn if time and desire will permit thee to ride in my company on a horse from my father's stables, surrounded by our suites in a manner becoming an ambassador of the mighty Assar, may he live through eternity!"

Sargon listened as he lay there, without understanding a syllable. But when Istubar interpreted the words of the Egyptian viceroy, the ambassador felt such delight that he beat his head against the couch, repeating the names Ramses and Assar.

When he had calmed himself, and made excuses for the wretched state in which so worthy and famous a guest had found him, he added,

"Do not take it ill, O lord, that an earthworm and a support of the throne, as I am, show delight in a manner so unusual. But I am doubly pleased at thy coming; first, because such a super-terrestrial honor has come to me; second, because in my dull and worthless heart I thought that thou, O lord, wert the author of my misfortune. It seemed to me that among the sticks which fell on my shoulders I felt thine, which struck, indeed, vigorously."

The calm Istubar interpreted phrase after phrase to the prince. To this the heir, with genuine kingly dignity, answered,

"Thou wert mistaken, O Sargon. If Thou thyself hadst not confessed the error, I should command to count out fifty blows of a stick to thee, so that Thou shouldst remember that persons like me do not attack one man with a crowd, or in the night-time."

Before the serene Istubar could finish the interpretation of this speech, Sargon had crawled up to the prince and embraced his legs earnestly.

"A great lord! a great king!" cried he. "Glory to Egypt, that has such a ruler."

To this the prince answered,

"I will say more, Sargon. If an attack was made on thee yesterday, I assure thee that no one of my courtiers made it. For I judge that a man of such strength as Thou art must have broken more than one skull. But my attendants are unharmed, every man of them."

"He has told truth, and spoken wisely," whispered Sargon to Istubar.

"But though," continued the prince, "this evil deed has happened, not through my fault, or through that of my attendants, I feel bound to decrease thy dissatisfaction with a city in which Thou wert met so unworthily; hence I have visited thy bedchamber; hence I open to thee thy house at all times, as often as them mayst wish to visit it, and I beg thee to accept this small gift from me."

The prince drew forth from his tunic a chain set with rubies and sapphires.

The gigantic Sargon shed tears; this moved the prince but did not affect the indifference of Istubar. The priest saw that Sargon had tears, joy, or anger, at call, as befitted the ambassador of a king full of wisdom.

The viceroy sat a moment longer, and then took farewell of Sargon. While going out, he thought that the Assyrians, though barbarians, were not evil minded, since they knew how to respond to magnanimity.

Sargon was so touched that he gave order immediately to bring wine, and he drank from midday till evening.

Some time after sunset the priest, Istubar, left Sargon's chamber for a while; he returned soon, but through a concealed doorway. Behind him appeared two men in dark mantles. When they had pushed their cowls aside, Sargon recognized in one the high priest Mefres, in the other Mentezufis the prophet.

"We bring thee, worthy ambassador, good news," said Mefres.

"May I be able to give you the like," cried the ambassador. "Be seated, holy and worthy fathers. And though I have reddened eyes, speak to me as if I were in perfect soberness; for when I am drunk my mind is improved even. Is this not true, Istubar?"

"Speak on," said the Chaldean.

"Today," began Mentezufis, "I have received a letter from the most worthy minister Herhor. He writes that his holiness may he live through eternity! awaits thy embassy at Memphis in his wonderful palace, and that his holiness may he live through eternity! is well disposed to make a treaty with Assyria."

Sargon tottered on his feet, but his eyes showed clear mental action.

"I will go," said he, "to his holiness the pharaoh, may he live through eternity! In the name of my lord I will put my seal on the treaty, if it be written on bricks in cuneiform letters, for I do not understand your writing. I will lie even all day on my belly before his holiness, and will sign the treaty. But how will ye carry it out, ha! ha! ha! that I know not," concluded he, with rude laughter.

"How darest thou, O servant of the great Assar, doubt the good-will and faith of our ruler?" inquired Mentezufis.

Sargon grew a little sobered.

"I do not speak of his holiness," replied he, "but of the heir to the throne of Egypt."

"He is a young man full of wisdom, who will carry out the will of his father and the supreme council without hesitation," answered Mefres.

"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the drunken barbarian again. "Your prince O gods, put my joints out if I speak an untruth, when I say that I should wish Assyria to have such an heir as he is. Our Assyrian heir is a sage, a priest. He, before going to war, looks first at the stars in the sky; afterward he looks under hens' tails. But yours would examine to see how many troops he had; he would learn where the enemy was camping, and fall on him as an eagle on a lamb. He is a leader, he is a king! He is not of those who obey priestly counsels. He will take counsel with his own sword, and ye will have to carry out what he orders. Therefore, though I sign a treaty, I shall tell my lord that behind the sick pharaoh and the wise priests there is in Egypt a young heir to the throne who is a lion and a bull in one person, a man on whose lips there is honey, but in whose heart lies a thunderbolt."

"And Thou wilt tell an untruth," interrupted Mentezufis. "For our prince, though impulsive and riotous somewhat, as is usual with young people, knows how to respect both the counsel of sages and the highest institutions of the country."

"O ye sages learned in letters, ye who know the circuits of the stars!" said Sargon, jeering. "I am a simple commander of troops, who without my seal would not always be able to scratch off my signature. Ye are sages, I am unlearned; but by the beard of my king, I would not change what I know for your wisdom. Ye are men to whom the world of papyrus and brick is laid bare; but the real world in which men live is closed to you. I am unlearned, but I have the sniff of a dog; and, as a dog sniffs a bear from a distance; so I with reddened nose sniff a hero.

"Ye will give counsel to the prince! But ye are charmed by him already, as a dove is by a serpent. I, at least, do not deceive myself; and, though the prince is as kind to me as my own father, I feel through my skin that he hates me and my Assyrians as a tiger hates an elephant. Ha! ha! Only give him an army, and in three months he would be at Nineveh, if soldiers would rise up to him in the desert instead of falling down and dying."

"Even though Thou wert speaking truth," interrupted Mentezufis, "even if the prince wished to go to Nineveh, he will not go."

"But who will detain him when he is the pharaoh?"

"We."

"Ye? ye? Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Sargon. "Ye think always that that young man does not feel this treaty. But I but I ha! ha! ha! I will let the skin be torn from me, and my body be impaled if he does not know everything."

"Would the Phoenicians be so quiet if they possessed not the certainty that your young lion of Egypt would shield them before the bull of Assyria?"

Mentezufis and Mefres looked at each other stealthily. The genius of the barbarian almost terrified them; he had given bold utterance to that which they had not thought of. What would the result be, indeed, if the heir had divined their plans and wished to cross them?

But Istubar, silent thus far, rescued them from momentary trouble.

"Sargon," said he, "Thou art interfering in affairs not thy own. Thy duty is to conclude with Egypt a treaty of the kind that our lord wishes. But what the heir knows or does not know, what he will do or will not do, is not thy affair, since the supreme, eternally existent priestly council assures us that the treaty will be executed. In what way it will be executed is not a question for our heads."

The dry tone with which Istubar declared this calmed the riotous joy of the ambassador. He nodded and muttered,

"A pity for the man in that case! He is a grand warrior, and magnanimous."

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Chapter XXXVII

AFTER their visit to Sargon the two holy men, Mentezufis and Mefres, when they had concealed themselves carefully with their burnouses, returned home, meditating deeply.

"Who knows," said Mentezufis, "that the view of that drunken Sargon concerning our prince is not the right one?"

"In that case Istubar's view is still more correct," answered Mefres, decidedly.

"Still, let us not be too hasty. We should examine the prince first," remarked Mentezufis.

"Let us do so."

"In fact, both priests went to the heir next morning with very serious faces, and asked for a confidential talk with him.

"What has happened?" inquired the prince. "Has his worthiness Sargon gone on some new night embassy?"

"Alas! the question for us is not of Sargon," answered Mefres. "But reports are current among people that thou, most worthy lord, art maintaining relations continually with unbelieving Phoenicians."

From these words the prince divined why the two prophets had made the visit, and the blood boiled in him. But he saw at once that this was the beginning of a play between the priests and him, and, as became the son of a pharaoh, he mastered himself in one instant. His face assumed an expression of innocent curiosity.

"The Phoenicians are dangerous, born enemies of Egypt," said Mefres.

The heir smiled.

"Holy fathers, if ye would lend me money, and if ye had beautiful maidens in your temples, I should see you oftener. But as things are, I must be friendly with Phoenicians."

"Men say, Erpatr, that Thou dost visit that Phoenician woman during night hours."

"I must till the girl gains wit and moves to my house. But have no fear, I go with a sword; and if any man should bar the way to me."

"But through that Phoenician woman Thou hast conceived repulsion for King Assar's envoy."

"Not through her by any means, but because Sargon smells of tallow. But whither does this lead? Ye, holy fathers, are not overseers of my women; I think that the worthy Sargon has not committed his to you. What is your desire?"

Mefres was so confused that blushes appeared on his shaven forehead.

"It is true, worthiness," answered he, "thy love affairs and the methods therein do not pertain to us. But there is a worse thing, people are astonished that the cunning Hiram lent thee a hundred talents with such readiness, even without a pledge."

The prince's lips quivered, but again he answered quietly,

"It is no fault of mine that Hiram has more trust in my words than have rich Egyptians! He knows that I would rather yield the arms which I inherit from my grandfather than fail to pay the money due him. It seems to me that he must be at rest concerning interest, since he has not mentioned it. I do not think of hiding from you, holy fathers, that the Phoenicians are more dexterous than Egyptians. Our wealthy men would make some faces before lending me one hundred talents; they would groan, make me wait a month, and at last demand immense pledges and a high rate of interest. But Phoenicians know the hearts of princes better; they give us money even without a judge or witnesses."

The high priest was so irritated by this quiet banter that he pressed his lips together and was silent. Mentezufis rescued him by asking quickly,

"What wouldst Thou say, worthiness, were we to make a treaty with Assyria, yielding northern Asia and Phoenicia?"

While asking this question, he had his eyes fixed on the face of the heir. But Ramses answered him with perfect calmness,

"I should say that only traitors could persuade the pharaoh to make such a treaty."

Both priests started up. Mefres raised his hands; Mentezufis clinched his fist.

"But if danger to the state demanded it?" insisted Mentezufis.

"What do ye wish of me?" burst out the prince. "Ye interfere with my debts and women, ye surround me with spies, ye dare reproach me, and now ye give me some sort of traitorous queries. Now I will tell you: I, if ye were to poison me, would not sign a treaty like the one ye mention. Luckily that does not depend on me, but on his holiness, whose will we must all obey."

"What wouldst Thou do, then, wert Thou the pharaoh?"

"What the honor and the profit of the state demanded."

"Of that I doubt not," said Mentezufis. "But what dost Thou consider the profit of the state? Where are we to look for indications?"

"Why is the supreme council in existence?" asked Ramses, with feigned auger this time. "Ye say this council is made up of all the great sages. In that case let them take on themselves responsibility for a treaty which I should look on as a shame and as destruction."

"Whence dost Thou know, worthiness, that thy godlike father would not act in just such a manner?"

"Why ask me, then, of this matter? What investigation is this? Who gives you the right to pry into my heart?"

Ramses feigned to be so mightily indignant that the priests were satisfied.

"Thou speakest, prince," said Mefres, "as becomes a good Egyptian. Such a treaty would pain us, too; but danger to the state forces men to yield temporarily to circumstances."

"What forces you to yield?" cried the prince. "Have we lost a great battle, or have we no army?"

"The oarsmen on the boat in which Egypt is sailing through the river of eternity are gods," replied Mefres, with solemnity; "but the steersman is the Highest Lord of existence. The oarsmen stop frequently, or turn the boat so as to avoid dangerous eddies which we do not even notice. In such cases we need only patience and obedience, for which, later or earlier, a liberal reward will meet us, surpassing all that mortal man can imagine."

After this statement the priests took farewell. They were full of hope that the prince, though angry because of the treaty, would not break it, and would assure to Egypt the time of rest which she needed. After their departure the prince called his adjutant. When alone with Tutmosis, his long restrained auger and sorrow burst forth. He threw himself on a couch; he writhed like a serpent, he struck his head with his fists, and shed tears even.

The frightened Tutmosis waited till the access of rage had subsided; then he gave Ramses wine and water, and fumed him with calming perfumes; finally he sat near his lord and inquired the cause of this unmanly outburst.

"Sit here," said the prince, without rising. "Knowest thou, I am today convinced that our priests have concluded an infamous treaty with Assyria; without war, without demands even from the other side! Canst Thou imagine what we are losing?"

"Dagon told me that the Assyrians wished to take Phoenicia. But the Phoenicians are now less alarmed, for King Assar has a war on the northeastern boundaries. A very valiant and numerous people inhabit that region; hence it is unknown what the end of this affair may be. The Phoenicians will have peace for a couple of years in every case, time in which to prepare defense and find allies."

The prince waved his hand impatiently.

"See," said he, interrupting Tutmosis, "even Phoenicia is arming her own people, and perhaps all the neighbors who surround her; in every case, we lose the unpaid tribute of Asia, which reaches hast Thou heard the like? more than a hundred thousand talents."

"A hundred thousand talents," repeated the prince. "O gods! but such a sum would fill the treasury of the pharaoh. And were we to attack Assyria at the right season, in Nineveh alone, in the single palace of Assar, we should find inexhaustible treasures. Think how many slaves we could take, half a million a million, people of gigantic strength, and so wild that captivity in Egypt with the hardest labor on canals or in quarries would seem play to them. The fertility of the land would be increased; in the course of a few years our people, now wretched, would rest, and before the last Assyrian slave had died, the state would regain its ancient might and well-being. And the priests are destroying all this by the aid of a few silver tablets, and a few bricks marked with arrow-headed signs understood by no Egyptian."

When he had heard the complaints of the prince, Tutmosis rose from the armchair and looked carefully through the adjoining chambers to see if some one in them were listening; then he sat down again near Ramses, and whispered,

"Be of good heart, lord. As far as I know, the entire aristocracy, all the nomarchs, all the higher officers have heard something of this treaty and are indignant. Only give the sign and we will break these brick treaties on the head of Sargon, even on the head of King Assar."

"But that would be rebellion against his holiness," replied the prince, also in a whisper. Tutmosis put on a sad face.

"I should not like," said he, "to make thy heart bleed, but thy father, who is equal to the highest god, has a grievous illness."

"That is not true!" said the prince, springing up. "It is true; but let not people see that Thou knowest this. His holiness is greatly wearied by his stay on earth, and desires to leave it. But the priests hold him back, and do not summon thee to Memphis, so that the treaty with Assyria may be signed without opposition."

"But they are traitors, traitors!" whispered the enraged prince.

"Therefore Thou wilt have no difficulty in breaking the treaty when Thou shalt inherit power after thy father, may lie live through eternity!"

Ramses thought awhile.

"It is easier," said he, "to sign a treaty than to break it." "It is easy also to break a treaty," laughed Tutmosis. "Are there not in Asia unorganized races which attack our boundaries? Does not the godlike Nitager stand on guard with his army to repulse them and carry war into their countries? Dost Thou suppose that Egypt will not find armed men and treasures for the war? We will go, all of us, for each man can gain something, and in some way make his life independent. Treasures are lying in the temples but the labyrinth."

"Who will take them from the labyrinth?" asked the prince, doubtingly.

"Who? Any nomarch, any officer, any noble will take them if he has a command from the pharaoh, and the minor priests will show the way to secret places."

"They would not dare to do so. The punishment of the gods."

Tutmosis waved his hand contemptuously.

"But are we slaves or shepherds, to fear gods whom Greeks and Phoenicians revile, and whom any mercenary warrior will insult and go unpunished?"

"The priests have invented silly tales about gods, tales to which they themselves attach no credit. Thou knowest that they recognize only the One in temples. They perform miracles, too, at which they laugh.

"Only the lowest people strike the earth with their foreheads before statues in the old way. Even working women have doubts now about the all-might of Osiris, Set, and Horus; the scribes cheat the gods in accounts, and the priests use them as a lock and chain to secure their treasures."

"Oho!" continued Tutmosis; "the clays have passed when all Egypt believed in everything announced from temples. At present we insult the Phoenician gods, the Phoenicians insult our gods, and no thunderbolt strikes any man of us."

The viceroy looked carefully at Tutmosis.

"How did such thoughts come to thy head?" inquired he. "But it is not so long ago that Thou wouldst pale at the very mention of the priesthood."

"Yes, because I felt alone. But today, after I have seen that all the nobles understand as I, I feel encouraged."

"But who told thee and the nobles of that treaty with Assyria?"

"Dagon and other Phoenicians," answered Tutmosis. "They even said that when the time came they would rouse Asiatic races to rebellion, so that our troops might have a pretext to cross the boundaries, and when once on the road to Nineveh, the Phoenicians and their allies would join us. And thy army would be larger than that which Ramses the Great had behind him,"

This zeal of the Phoenicians did not please the heir, but he was silent on that subject.

"But what will happen if the priests learn of your conversations?" inquired he. "None of you will escape death, be sure of that."

"They will learn nothing," replied Tutmosis, joyfully. "They trust too much in their power, they pay their spies badly, and have disgusted all Egypt with their pride and rapacity. Moreover, the aristocracy, the army, the scribes, the laborers, even the minor priests are only waiting for the signal to attack the temples, take out the treasures, and lay them at the feet of the pharaoh. When their treasures fail, all their power will be lost to the holy fathers. They will cease even to work miracles, for to work them gold rings are needed."

The prince turned conversation to other subjects and gave Tutmosis the sign of withdrawal. When alone, he began to meditate.

He would have been enchanted at the hostile disposition of the nobles toward the priests, and the warlike instincts of the higher classes, if the enthusiasm had not broken out so suddenly, and if Phoenicians were not concealed behind it. This enjoined caution, for he understood that in the affairs of Egypt it was better to trust the patriotism of priests than the friendship of Phoenicians. He recalled, however, his father's words, that Phoenicians were truth-speaking and faithful whenever truth was in their interest. Beyond doubt the Phoenicians had a great interest in not falling under control of Assyria. And it was possible to depend on them as allies in case of war, for the defeat of Egypt would injure, first of all, Phoenicia.

On the other hand, Ramses did not admit that Egyptian priests, even when concluding such a harmful treaty with Assyria, thought of treason. No, they were not traitors, they were slothful dignitaries. Peace agreed with them, for during peace their treasures grew, and they increased their influence. They did not wish for war, since war would raise the pharaoh's power, and impose on them a grievous outlay.

So the young prince, despite his inexperience, understood that be must be cautious, that he must not hasten, that he must not condemn, but also that he must not trust too much. He had decided on war with Assyria, not because the nobles and the pharaoh desired it, but because Egypt needed slaves and also treasures.

But in making war he wished to make it with judgment. He wished to bring the priestly order to it gradually, and only in case of opposition to crush that order through the nobles and the army.

And just when the holy Mefres and Mentezufis were jeering at the predictions of Sargon, who said that the heir would not yield to the priests but force them to obedience, the prince had a plan to subject them. And he saw what power he possessed for that purpose. The moment to begin the war and the means of waging it he left to the future.

"Time will bring the best counsels," said he to himself.

He was calm and satisfied, like a man who after long hesitation knows what he must do, and has faith in his own abilities. So then, to free himself of even the traces of his recent indignation, he went to Sarah. Amusement with his little son always calmed him, and filled his heart with serenity.

He passed the garden, entered Sarah's villa, and found her in tears again.

"Oh, Sarah!" cried he, "if the Nile were in thy bosom Thou wouldst weep it all away."

"I will not weep any longer," said she; but a more abundant stream flowed from her eyes.

"What is this?" asked the prince; "or hast Thou brought in some witch again who frightens thee with Phoenician women?"

"I am not afraid of Phoenician women, but of Phoenicia," said Sarah; "Thou knowest not, lord, what bad people the Phoenicians are."

"Do they burn children?" laughed Ramses.

"Thou thinkest that they do not?" asked she, looking at him with great eyes.

"A fable! I know, besides, from Prince Hiram, that that is a fable."

"Hiram!" cried Sarah, "Hiram! but he is the most wicked of all! Ask my father, and he will tell thee bow Hiram entices young girls of distant countries to his ships, and raising the sails takes away the unfortunates to sell them. Even we had a bright-haired slave girl stolen by Hiram. She became insane from sorrow for her country. But she could not even say where her country was; and she died. Such is Hiram, such is that vile Dagon, and all those wretches."

"Perhaps; but how does this concern us?" inquired Ramses.

"Very much. Thou, O lord, art listening to Phoenician counsels; but our Jews have learned that Phoenicia wants to raise a war between Egypt and Assyria. Even their first bankers and merchants have bound themselves by dreadful oaths to raise it."

"Why should they want war?" inquired the prince, with apparent indifference.

"Because they will furnish arms to you and to Assyrians; they will furnish, also, supplies and information, and for everything they furnish they will make you pay ten prices. They will plunder the dead and wounded of both armies. They will buy slaves from your warriors and from the Assyrians. Is that little? Egypt and Assyria will ruin themselves, but the Phoenicians will build up new storehouses with wealth from both sides!"

"Who explained such wisdom to thee?" asked the prince, smiling.

"Do I not hear my father and our relatives and friends whispering of this, while they look around in dread lest some one may hear what they are saying? Besides, do I not know the Phoenicians? They lie prostrate before thee, but Thou dost not note their deceitful looks; often have I seen their eyes green with greed and yellow from anger. O lord, guard thyself from Phoenicians as from venomous serpents."

Ramses looked at Sarah, and involuntarily he compared her sincere love with the calculations of the Phoenician priestess, her outbursts of tenderness with the treacherous coldness of Kama.

"Indeed," thought he, "the Phoenicians are poisonous reptiles. But if Ramses the Great used a lion in war, why should I not use a serpent against the enemies of Egypt?"

And the more plastically he pictured to himself the perversity of Kama, the more did he desire her. At times heroic souls seek out danger.

He took farewell of Sarah, and suddenly, it is unknown for what reason, he remembered that Sargon had suspected him of taking part in the attack on his person.

The prince struck his forehead.

"Did that second self of mine," thought he, "arrange the attack on the ambassador? But if he did, who persuaded him? Was it Phoenicians? But if they wished to connect my person with such a vile business? Sarah says, justly, that they are scoundrels against whom I should guard myself always."

Straightway anger rose in him, and he determined to settle the question. Since evening was just coming, Ramses, without going home, went to Kama.

It concerned him little that he might be recognized; besides, in case of need, he had a sword on his person.

There was light in the villa of the priestess, but there was no servant at the entrance.

"Thus far," thought he, "Kama has sent away her servants when I was to come. Had she a feeling that I would come today, or will she receive a more fortunate lover?"

He ascended one story, stood before the chamber of the priestess, and pushed aside the curtain quickly. In the chamber were Kama and Hiram; they were whispering.

"Oh, I come at the wrong time!" said Ramses, laughing. "Well, prince, art thou, too, paying court to a woman who cannot be gracious to men unless death be the penalty?"

Hiram and the priestess sprang from their seats.

"Thou wert forewarned by some good spirit that we were speaking of thee, that is clear," said the Phoenician, bowing.

"Are ye preparing some surprise for me?" inquired the heir.

"Perhaps. Who can tell?" answered Kama, with a challenging expression.

"May those who in future wish to surprise me not expose their own necks to the axe or the halter; if they do, they will surprise themselves more than me."

The smile grew cold on Kama's half-open lips; Hiram, now pale, answered humbly,

"How have we earned the anger of our lord and guardian?"

"I would know the truth," said Ramses, sitting down and looking threateningly at Hiram. "I would know who arranged an attack on the Assyrian ambassador, and associated in that villainy a man resembling me as much as my two hands resemble each other?"

"Seest, Kama," said the frightened Hiram, "I told thee that intimacy with that ruffian would bring great misfortune And here it is! We have not waited long to see it."

The priestess fell at the prince's feet.

"I will tell all," cried she, groaning; "only cast from thy heart, lord, anger against Phoenicians. Slay me, imprison me, but be not angry at Phoenicians."

"Who attacked Sargon?"

"Lykon, the Greek, who sings in our temples," said the priestess, still kneeling.

"Aha! it was he, then, who was singing outside thy house, and he resembles me greatly?"

Hiram bent his head and placed his hand on his heart.

"We, lord, have paid that man bountifully because he is so like thee. We thought that his figure might serve thee should the need come."

"And it has," interrupted the prince. "Where is he? I wish to see this perfect singer, this living picture of myself."

Hiram held his hands apart.

"The scoundrel has fled, but we will find him," replied he, "unless he turns into a fly or an earthworm."

"But Thou wilt forgive me, lord?" whispered the priestess, leaning on the knees of the prince.

"Much is forgiven women," said Ramses.

"And ye will not take vengeance on me?" asked she of Hiram, with fear.

"Phoenicia," replied the old man, deliberately and with emphasis, "forgives the greatest offence to that person who possesses the favor of our lord Ramses, may he live through eternity! As to Lykon," added he, turning to the heir, "Thou wilt have him, dead or living."

Hiram made a profound obeisance and went from the chamber, leaving the prince with the priestess.

The blood rushed to Ramses' head; he embraced the kneeling Kama, and asked,

"Hast Thou heard the words of the worthy Hiram? Phoenicia forgives thee the greatest offence! That man is faithful to me indeed. And if he has said that, what answer wilt Thou find?"

Kama kissed his hands, whispering,

"Thou hast won me I am thy slave. But leave me in peace today, respect the house which belongs to Astaroth."

"Then Thou wilt remove to my palace?" asked the prince.

"O gods, what hast Thou said? Since the sun first rose and set, no priestess of As But this is difficult! Phoenicia, lord, gives thee a proof of attachment and honor such as no son of hers has received at any time."

"Then?" interrupted the prince.

"But not today, and not here," implored Kama.

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XXXVIII. ,

LEARNING from Hiram that the Phoenicians had given him the priestess, Ramses wished to have her in his house at the earliest, not because he could not live without her, but because she had become for him a novelty.

Kama delayed her coming; she implored the prince to leave her in peace till the inflow of pilgrims diminished, and above all till the most noted among them should go from Pi-Bast. Were she to become his favorite during their presence, the income of the temple might decrease and danger threaten the priestess.

"Our sages and great men," said she to Ramses, "would forgive me. But the common people would call the vengeance of the gods on my head, and thou, lord, knowest that the gods have long hands."

"May they not lose these hands in thrusting them under my roof," said Ramses.

But he did not insist greatly, as his attention was much occupied at that juncture.

The Assyrian ambassadors, Sargon and Istubar, had gone to Memphis to put their names to the treaty. At the same time the pharaoh had summoned Ramses to give a report of his journey.

The prince commanded his scribes to write accurately of all that had happened from the time of leaving Memphis; hence the review of artisans, the visits to fields and factories, the conversations with nomarchs and officials. To present the report he appointed Tutmosis.

"Thou wilt be heart and lips for me before the face of the pharaoh," said the prince to him, "and this is what Thou must do there.

"When the most worthy Herhor asks what, to my thinking, causes the poverty of Egypt and the treasury, tell the minister to turn to his assistant, Pentuer, and he will explain my views in the same way that he did his own in the temple of Hator.

"When Herhor wishes to know my opinion of a treaty with Assyria, answer that my duty is to carry out the commands of my master."

Tutmosis nodded in sign that he comprehended.

"But," continued the heir, "when Thou shalt stand in the presence of my father, may he live through eternity! and convince thyself that no one is listening, fall at his feet in my name, and say,

"Our lord, thy son and servant, the worthy Ramses, to whom Thou hast given life and power, says the following,

"'The cause of Egypt's suffering is the loss of fertile lands taken by the desert, and the loss of men who die from want and hard labor. But know, our lord, that the damage caused thy treasury by priests is no less than that wrought by death and the desert; for not only are the temples filled with gold and jewels, which would suffice to pay our debts entirely, but the holy fathers and the prophets have the best lands, the best slaves and laborers, and lands far greater in extent than those of the divine pharaoh.

"'Thy son and slave, Ramses, says this to thee, he who all the time of his journey had his eyes open like a fish, and his ears set forward like an ass which is watching.'."

The prince stopped. Tutmosis repeated the words mentally.

"If," continued the viceroy, "his holiness asks for my opinion of the Assyrians, fall on thy face and answer,

"'Thy servant Ramses, if Thou permit, makes bold to say that the Assyrians are strong and large men, and have perfect weapons; but it is evident that they have bad training. At the heels of Sargon marched the best Assyrian warriors, archers, axemen, spearmen, and still there were not six among them who could march in line warrior fashion. Besides they carry their spears crookedly, their swords are badly hung, they bear their axes like carpenters or butchers. Their clothing is heavy, their rude sandals gall their feet, and their shields, though strong, are of small use, for the men are awkward."

"Thou speakest truth," said Tutmosis. "I have noticed that, and I have heard the same from Egyptian officers who declare that Assyrian troops, like those which we saw here, would offer less resistance than the hordes of Libya."

"Say also to our lord, who gives us life, that all the nobles and the Egyptian army are indignant at the mere report that Assyria might annex Phoenicia. Why, Phoenicia is the port of Egypt, and the Phoenicians the best warriors in our navy.

"Say, besides, that I have heard from Phoenicians (of this his holiness must know best of all) that Assyria is weak at the moment, for she has a war on her northern and eastern boundaries; all western Asia is arming against her. Should we attack today, we could win immense wealth, and take multitudes of captives who would help our slaves in their labor.

"But say, in conclusion, that the wisdom of my father excels that of all men, therefore I shall do whatsoever he commands, if only he gives not Phoenicia to King Assar; if he gives it, we are ruined. Phoenicia is the bronze door of our treasure-house, and where is the man who would yield his door to a robber?"

Tutmosis went to Memphis in the month Paofi (July and August).

The Nile was increasing mightily; hence the influx of Asiatic pilgrims to the temple of Astaroth diminished. People of the place betook themselves to the fields to gather with the utmost speed grapes, flax, and a certain plant which furnished cotton.

In one word, the neighborhood grew quiet, and the gardens surrounding the temples were almost deserted.

At that time Prince Ramses, relieved from amusements and the duties of the state, turned to his love affair with Kama. On a certain day he had a secret consultation with Hiram, who at his command gave the temple of Astaroth twelve talents in gold, a statue of the goddess wonderfully carved out of malachite, fifty cows and of wheat one hundred and fifty measures. That was such a generous gift that the high priest of the temple himself came to Ramses to fall prostrate and thank him for the favor which, as he said, people who loved the goddess would remember during all the ages.

Having settled with the temple, the prince summoned the chief of police in Pi-Bast and passed a long hour with him. Because of this the whole city was shaken some days later under the influence of extraordinary tidings: Kama, the priestess of Astaroth, had been seized, borne away and lost, like a grain of sand in a desert.

This unheard-of event occurred under the following conditions: The high priest of the temple sent Kama to the town Sabne-Chetam at Lake Menzaleh with offerings for the chapel of Astaroth in that place. To avoid summer heat and secure herself against curiosity and the homage of people, the priestess journeyed in a boat and during night hours. Toward morning, when the three wearied rowers were dozing, boats manned by Greeks and Hittites pushed out suddenly from among reeds at the shore, surrounded the boat bearing Kama, and carried off the priestess. The attack was so sudden that the Phoenician rowers made no resistance. The strangers gagged Kama, evidently, for she remained silent. The Greeks and Hittites after the sacrilege vanished in the reeds, to sail toward the sea afterward. To prevent pursuit they sank the boat which had borne the priestess.

Pi-Bast was as excited as a beehive. People talked of nothing else. They even guessed who did the deed. Some suspected Sargon, who had offered Kama the title of wife if she would leave the temple and remove to Nineveh. Others suspected Lykon, the temple singer, who long had burned with passion for the priestess. He was moreover rich enough to hire Greek slaves, and so godless that he would not hesitate to snatch away a priestess.

A Phoenician council of the richest and most faithful members was summoned to the temple. The council resolved, first of all, to free Kama from her duties as priestess and remove from her the curse against a virgin who lost her innocence in the service of the goddess.

That was a wise and pious resolution, for if some one had carried off the priestess and deprived her of sacredness against her will, it would have been unjust to punish her.

A couple of days later they announced, with sound of trumpet, to worshippers in the temple that the priestess Kama was dead, and if any man should meet a woman seeming like her he would have no right to seek revenge or even make reproaches. The priestess had not left the goddess, but evil spirits had borne her off; for this they would be punished.

That same day the worthy Hiram visited Ramses and gave him in a gold tube a parchment furnished with a number of seals of priests and signatures of Phoenician notables.

That was the decision of the spiritual court of Astaroth, which released Kama from her vows and freed her from the curse if she would renounce the name which she had borne while priestess.

The prince took this document and went after sundown to a certain lone villa in his garden. He opened the door in some unknown way and ascended one story to a room of medium dimensions, where by light from a carved lamp in which fragrant olive oil was burning, he saw Kama.

"At last!" cried he, giving her the gold tube. "Thou hast everything according to thy wishes."

The Phoenician woman was feverish; her eyes flashed. She snatched the tube, looked at it, and threw it on the floor.

"Dost think this gold?" asked she. "I will bet my necklace that that tube is copper, and only covered on both sides with thin strips of gold."

"Is that thy way of greeting me?" inquired the astonished Ramses.

"Yes, for I know my brethren," said she. "They counterfeit not only gold, but rubies and sapphires."

"Woman," said the heir, "in this tube is thy safety."

"What is safety to me? I am wearied in this place, and I am afraid. I have sat here four days as in prison."

"Dost Thou lack anything?"

"I lack air, amusement, laughter, songs, people. O vengeful goddess, how harshly Thou art punishing!"

The prince listened with amazement. In that mad woman he could not recognize the Kama whom he had seen in the temple, that woman over whose person had floated the passionate song of the Greek Lykon.

"Tomorrow," said the prince, "Thou canst go to the garden; and when we visit Memphis or Thebes, Thou wilt amuse thyself as never in thy life before. Look at me. Do I not love thee, and is not the honor which belongs to me enough for a woman?"

"Yes," answered she, pouting, "but Thou hadst four women before me."

"But if Hove thee best?"

"If Thou love me best, make me first, put me in the palace which that Jewess Sarah occupies, and give a guard to me, not to her. Before the statue of Astaroth I was first. Those who paid homage to the goddess, when kneeling before her, looked at me. But here what? Troops beat drums and sound flutes; officials cross their hands on their breasts, and incline their heads before the house of the Jewess."

"Before my first-born son," interrupted the prince, now impatient, "and he is no Jew."

"He is a Jew!" screamed Kama.

Ramses sprang up.

"Art Thou mad?" but quieting himself quickly, he added, "Dost Thou not know that my son cannot be a Jew"

"But I tell thee that he is a Jew!" cried Kama, beating the table with her fist. "He is a Jew, just as his grandfather is, just as his uncles are; and his name is Isaac."

"What hast Thou said, Phoenician woman? Dost wish that I should turn thee out?"

"Turn me out if a lie has gone from my lips. But if I have spoken truth, turn out that woman with her brat and give me her palace. I wish and deserve to be first in thy household. She deceives thee, reviles thee. But, I for thy sake, have deserted my goddess and exposed myself to her vengeance."

"Give me proofs and the palace will be thine. No, that is false!" said Ramses. "Sarah would not permit such a crime. My first-born son!"

"Isaac Isaac!" cried Kama. "Go to her, and convince thyself."

Ramses, half unconscious, ran out from Kama's house and turned toward Sarah's villa. Though the night was starry, he lost his way and wandered a certain time through the garden. The cool air sobered him; he found the road to the villa and entered almost calmly.

Though the hour was late, they were awake there. Sarah with her own hands was washing swaddling-clothes for her son, and the servants were passing their time in eating, drinking, and music. When Ramses, pale from emotion, stood on the threshold, Sarah cried out, but soon calmed herself.

"Be greeted, lord," said she, wiping her wet hands and bending to his feet.

"Sarah, what is the name of thy son?" inquired he.

She seized her head in terror.

"What is thy son's name?" repeated he.

"But Thou knowest, lord, that it is Seti," answered she, with a voice almost inaudible.

"Look me in the eyes."

"O Jehovah!" whispered Sarah.

"Thou seest that Thou art lying. And now I will tell thee, my son, the son of the heir to the throne of Egypt, is called Isaac and he is a Jew a low Jew."

"O God, O God of mercy!" cried Sarah, throwing herself at his feet.

Ramses did not raise his head for an instant, but his face was gray.

"I was forewarned," said he, "not to take a Jewess to my house. I was disgusted when I saw thy country place filled with Jews; but I kept my disgust in subjection, for I trusted thee. But them, with thy Jews, hast stolen my son from me, Thou child thief!"

"The priests commanded that he should become a Jew," whispered Sarah, sobbing at the feet of Ramses.

"The priests! What priests?"

"The most worthy Herhor, the most worthy Mefres. They said that it must be so, that thy son would become the first king of the Jews."

"The priests? Mefres?" repeated the prince. "King of the Jews? But I have told thee that thy son would become the chief of my archers, my secretary. I told thee this, and thou, wretched woman, didst think that the title of king of the Jews was equal to that of my secretary and archer. Mefres Herhor! Thanks to the gods that at last I understand those dignitaries and know what fate they are preparing for my descendants."

He thought awhile, gnawing his lips. Suddenly he called with a powerful voice,

"Hei, servants, warriors!"

The room was filled in the twinkle of an eye. Sarah's serving-women came in, the scribe and manager of the house, then the slaves; finally, a few warriors with an officer.

"Death!" cried Sarah, with a piercing voice.

She rushed to the cradle, seized her son, and, standing in the corner of the room, called out,

"Kill me; but I will not yield my son!"

Ramses smiled.

"Centurion," said he to the officer, "take that woman with her child and conduct her to the building where my household slaves dwell. That Jewess will not be mistress here; she is to be the servant of her who takes this place.

"And thou, steward," said he, turning to the official, "see that the Jewess does not forget, to-morrow morning, to wash the feet of her mistress, who will come hither directly. If this serving-woman should prove stubborn, she is to receive stripes at command of her mistress. Conduct the woman to the servants' quarters."

The officer and steward approached Sarah, but stopped, as they dared not touch her; but there was no need to do so.

Sarah wound a garment around the puling child, and left the room, whispering,

"O God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, have mercy on us!"

She bowed low before the prince, and from her eyes tears flowed in silence.

While she was still in the antechamber, Ramses heard her sweet voice,

"God of Abraham Isa."

When all was quiet, the viceroy called the officer and steward.

"Go with torches to the house among the fig-trees."

"I understand," replied the steward.

"And conduct hither, immediately, the woman who dwells there."

"It will be done."

"Thenceforth that woman will be thy mistress and the mistress of Sarah; the Jewess must wash the feet of her mistress every morning, pour water to her, and hold a mirror before her. That is my will, my command."

"It shall be accomplished," said the steward.

"And to-morrow morning Thou wilt tell me if the new servant is stubborn."

When he had given these commands, he returned home; but he did not sleep that night. He felt that without raising his voice for a moment he had crushed Sarah, the wretched Jewess, who had dared to deceive him. He had punished her as a king who with one movement of the eye dashes people down from heights into the abyss of servitude. But Sarah was merely an instrument of the priests, and the heir had too great a feeling of justice to forgive the real authors when he had broken the instrument.

His rage was intensified all the more because the priests were unassailable. He might send out Sarah with her child in the middle of the night to the servants' house, but he could not deprive Herhor of his power, nor Mefres of the high priesthood. Sarah had fallen at his feet, like a trampled worm; but Herhor and Mefres, who had snatched his first-born from him, towered above Egypt, and, oh, shame! above him, the corning pharaoh, like pyramids.

And he could not tell how often in that year he had recalled the wrongs which priests had inflicted. At school they had beaten him with sticks till his back was swollen, or had tortured him with hunger till his stomach and spine had grown together. At the maneuvers of the year past, Herhor spoiled his whole plan, then put the blame on him, and took away the command of an army corps. That same Herhor drew on Mm the displeasure of his holiness because he had taken Sarah to his house, and did not restore him to honor till the humiliated prince had passed a couple of months in a voluntary exile.

It would seem that when he had been leader of a corps and was viceroy the priests would cease tormenting him with their guardianship. But just then they appeared with redoubled energy. They had made him viceroy; for what purpose? to remove him from the pharaoh, and conclude a shameful treaty with Assyria. They had used force in such form that he betook himself to the temple as a penitent to obtain information concerning the condition of the state; there they deceived him through miracles and terrors, and gave thoroughly false explanations.

Next they interfered with his amusements, his women, his relations with the pharaoh, his debts, and, finally, to humiliate and render him ridiculous in the eyes of Egyptians, they made his first-born a Hebrew.

Where was the laborer, where the slave, where an Egyptian convict in the quarries who had not the right to say, "I am better than thou, the viceroy, for no son of mine is a Hebrew."

Feeling the weight of the insult, Ramses understood at the same time that he could not avenge himself immediately. Hence he determined to defer that affair to the future. In the school of the priests he had learned self-command, in the court he had learned deceit and patience; those qualities became a weapon and a shield to him in his battle with the priesthood. Till he was ready he would lead them into error, and when the moment came he would strike so hard that they would never rise again.

It began to dawn. The heir fell asleep, and when he woke the first person he saw was the steward of Sarah's villa.

"What of the Jewess?" asked the prince.

"According to thy command, worthiness, she washed the feet of her new mistress," answered the official.

"Was she stubborn?"

"She was full of humility, but not adroit enough; so the angry lady struck the Jewess with her foot between the eyebrows."

The prince sprang up.

"And what did Sarah do?" inquired he, quickly.

"She fell to the pavement. And when the new mistress commanded her to go, she went out, weeping noiselessly."

The prince walked up and down in the chamber.

"How did she pass the night?"

"The new lady?"

"No! I ask about Sarah."

"According to command, Sarah went with her child to the servants' house. The women, from compassion, yielded a fresh mat to her, but she did not lie down to sleep; she sat the whole night with her child on her knees."

"But how is the child?" asked Ramses.

"The child is well. This morning, when the Jewess went to serve her new mistress, the other women bathed the little one in warm water, and the shepherd's wife, who also has an infant, gave her breast to it."

The prince stopped before the steward.

"It is wrong," said he, "when a cow instead of suckling its calf goes to the plough and is beaten. Though this Jewess has committed a great offence, I do not wish that her innocent child should be a sufferer. Therefore Sarah will not wash the feet of the new lady again, and will not be kicked between the eyes by her a second time. Thou wilt set aside for her use in the servants' house a room with food and furniture such as are proper for a woman recovered recently from childbirth. And let her nourish her infant in peace there."

"Live Thou through eternity, our ruler!" answered the steward; and he ran quickly to carry out the commands of the viceroy.

All the servants loved Sarah, and in a few days they had occasion to hate the angry and turbulent Kama.

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Chapter XXXIX

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 Phoenician woman was less and less pleasing to Ramses.

"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 today."

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 Phoenician woman heard him with fright.

"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 Phoenicians 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 Phoenician.

"But ye have freed Kama from the curse."

"I guarantee that Phoenicians 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 Phoenicians 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 Ramses 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 some criminal 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 Ramses.

"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, Ramses, 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."

"Ob, 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 Phoenicia remains in abeyance till Thou art the pharaoh."

"O blessed! O holy ruler! From what a dreadful heritage Thou hast saved me."

"So Phoenicia 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 Ramses.

"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 Ramses 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 Ramses. "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.

Ramses 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 Ramses. "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 Ramses. "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 Phoenician 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 Ramses.

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 Ramses, 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 drowning in 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 today I see the truth of it. Listen to me, Kama; perhaps Thou wilt stop, and not force me to withdraw the goodwill 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: [A true story.]

"Once Prince Satni, on the square before the temple of Ptah, saw a very beautiful woman. She surpassed all whom he 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 wish to 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 Ramses, in conclusion.

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Chapter XL

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 the towns 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 Teremethis 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 Ramses 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, and before 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 Ramses.

"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. Today 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 criticizing 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 Ramses.

"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 in gold and jewels," jeered Ramses. "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 Phoenicia 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 Phoenicia, they disbanded regiments in every case, and caused war on our western boundary. Have we ever heard of a deed like this?" continued Ramses, 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 taken thy information. May it be as pure as the hearts of the highest counselors! 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."

Ramses 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."

Ramses 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. Ramses 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 Ramses. "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 today from that stripling. What do I say, pharaoh? No enemy of Egypt, no Hittite, Phoenician, 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 of Set, 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, Ramses 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 Ramses 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 from the 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 criticizes 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 Phoenician 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 comers, 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 Ramses 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 Ramses, to secure the aid of Phoenicia, had had recourse to the goddess Istar, [Another form of Astarte.] 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 Ramses had made immense presents to the temple, and in return had taken thence a priestess to confirm him in the faith of the goddess.

All these tidings were collected by the most worthy Sem and his assistants. The holy fathers, Mefres and Mentezufis, communicated to him other information which had come to them from Memphis:

The Chaldean priest and miracle-worker, Beroes, was received in the subterranean parts of the temple of Set by the priest Osochar, who, when giving his daughter in marriage two months later, had presented her with rich jewels and bought a good estate for her and her husband. And since Osochar had no considerable income, a suspicion rose that that priest had overheard the conversation of Beroes with the Egyptian priests, and had sold to Phoenicians, criminally, the secret of the treaty, and received a great estate from them.

When he heard this, the high priest Sem added,

"If the holy Beroes does, indeed, perform miracles, then ask him, first of all, if Osochar has betrayed the secret."

"They inquired of Beroes," said Mefres, "but the holy man answered that in that affair he preferred to be silent. He added, also, that even if some one had heard their conversation, and reported to Phoenicians, neither Egypt nor Chaldea would suffer any injury; and if they should find the guilty person, it would be proper to show him mercy."

"A holy man! Indeed, a holy man!" whispered Sem.

"And what wilt Thou say, worthiness," asked Mefres, "of the prince and the disturbances which his conduct has caused in the country?"

"I will say the same as Beroes: 'The heir does not cause harm to Egypt, so we should show him indulgence. '."

"This young man reviles the gods and miracles; he enters foreign temples, he excites the men to rebellion. These are no small matters," said Mefres, bitterly. This priest could not pardon Ramses for having jeered at his devotion so rudely.

The high priest Sem loved Ramses; so he answered with a kindly smile,

"What laborer is there in Egypt who would not like to have a slave, and abandon hard labor for sweet idleness? Or what man is there on earth who is without the dream of not paying taxes, since with that which he pays the treasury, his wife, he himself, and his children might buy showy clothes and use various dainties?"

"Idleness and excessive outlay spoil a man," said Mentezufis.

"What warrior," continued Sem, "would not desire war and covet a thousand drachmas, or even a greater sum? Further, I ask you, O fathers, what pharaoh, what nomarch, what noble pays old debts with alacrity, and does not look askance at the wealth of temples?"

"That is vile greed," whispered Mefres.

"And, finally," said Sem, "what heir to the throne has not dreamed of decreasing the importance of the priesthood? What pharaoh at the beginning of his reign has not tried to shake off the supreme council's influence?"

"Thy words are full of wisdom," said Mefres, "but to what may they lead us?"

"To this, not to accuse the heir before the supreme council, for there is no court that would condemn the prince for this, that earth-workers would be glad not to pay taxes, or that soldiers want war if they can have it. Nay, ye may receive a reprimand. For if ye had followed the prince day by day and restrained his minor excesses, we should not have at present that pyramid of complaints founded, moreover, on nothing. In such affairs the evil is not in this, that people are inclined to sin, for they have been so at all times. But the danger is here, that we have not guarded them. Our sacred river, the mother of Egypt, would very soon fill all canals with mud, if engineers ceased to watch it."

"And what wilt Thou say, worthiness, of the fictions which the prince permitted himself in speaking with us? Wilt Thou forgive his foul reviling of miracles?" inquired Mefres. "Moreover this stripling has insulted me grievously in my religious practices."

"Whoso speaks with a drunken man is himself an offender," said Sem. "To tell the truth, ye had no right, worthy fathers, to speak with a man who was not sober about important state questions. Ye committed a fault in making a drunken man commander of an army. A leader must be sober."

"I bow down before thy wisdom," said Mefres; "still I vote to lay a complaint against the heir before the supreme council."

"But I vote against a complaint," answered Sem, energetically. "The council must learn of all acts of the viceroy, not through a complaint, but through an ordinary report to it."

"I too am opposed to a complaint," said Mentezufis.

The high priest, Mefres, seeing that he had two votes against him, yielded in the matter of a complaint. But he remembered the insult from the prince and hid ill-will in his bosom.

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Chapter XLI

BY advice of astrologers the headquarters were to move from Pi-Bast on the seventh day of Hator. For that day was "good, good, good." Gods in heaven and men on earth rejoiced at the victory of Ra over his enemies; whoever came into the world on that day was destined to die at an advanced age surrounded by reverence.

That was a favorable day for pregnant women, and people trading in woven stuffs, but for toads and mice it was evil.

From the moment that he was appointed commander Ramses rushed to work feverishly. He received each regiment as it arrived; he inspected its weapons, its train, and its clothing. He greeted the recruits, and encouraged them to diligent exercise at drilling, to the destruction of their enemies and the glory of the pharaoh. He presided at every military council, he was present at the examination of every spy, and in proportion as tidings were brought in, he indicated on the map with his own hand the movement of Egyptian armies and the positions of the enemy.

He passed so swiftly from place to place that they looked for him everywhere, and still he swooped on them suddenly like a falcon. In the morning he was on the south of Pi-Bast and verified the list of provisions; an hour later he was north of the city, and discovered that a hundred and fifty men were lacking in the left regiment. In the evening he overtook the advance guard, was at the crossing of an arm of the Nile, and passed in review two hundred war chariots.

The holy Mentezufis, who, as a representative of Herhor, understood the military art well, was overcome by astonishment.

"Ye know," said he to Sem and Mefres, "that I do not like the heir to the throne, for I have discovered his perversity and malice. But Osiris be my witness that that young man is a born leader. I will tell you a thing unparalleled: We shall concentrate our forces on the border three or four days earlier than it was possible to expect. The Libyans have lost the war already, though they have not heard the whistle of our arrows."

"So much the worse is such a pharaoh for us," interposed Mefres, with the stubbornness peculiar to old men.

Toward evening the sixth of Hator, Prince Ramses bathed and informed his staff that they would march on the morrow two hours before sunrise. "And now I wish to sleep," said he.

To wish for sleep was easier than to get it. The whole city was swarming with warriors; at the palace of the prince a regiment had encamped which had no thought of rest, but was eating, drinking, and singing.

The prince went to the remotest chamber, but even there he could not undress. Every few minutes some adjutant flew in with a report of no moment, or for an order in questions which could have been settled on the spot by the commander of a regiment. Spies were led in who brought no new information; great lords with small followings were announced; these wished to offer their services to the prince as volunteers. Phoenician merchants broke in on him; these wanted contracts for the army, or were contractors who complained of the extortion of generals.

Even soothsayers and astrologers were not lacking, who in the last hours before marching wished to draw his horoscope for the viceroy; there were even practicers of the black art who wished to sell unfailing amulets against missiles.

These people simply broke into the prince's chamber: each one of them judged that the fate of the expedition was in his hands, and that in such a case every etiquette should vanish.

The heir satisfied all applicants patiently. But when behind an astrologer one of his own women pushed into the room with complaint that Ramses did not love her, since he had not taken farewell, and when a quarter of an hour later the weeping of another was heard outside the window, the heir could endure no longer; he summoned Tutmosis.

"Sit in this room," said he, "and if Thou wish, console the women of my household. I will hide somewhere in the garden; if not, I shall not sleep and to-morrow I shall look like a hen just pulled out of a cistern."

"Where am I to seek thee in case of need?" asked Tutmosis.

"Oho! ho!" laughed the heir. "Seek me nowhere. I shall appear of myself when the trumpet is sounded."

And throwing over his shoulders a long mantle with a hood, he slipped out to the garden. Through the garden were prowling soldiers, kitchen boys, and other servants. In the whole space about the palace order had disappeared, as usual before an expedition. Noting this, Ramses turned to the densest part of the park, found a little arbor formed of grape- vines, and threw himself on a bench satisfied.

"Here neither priests nor women will find me," muttered the viceroy.

He fell asleep immediately, and slept like a stone.

Kama had felt ill for some days. To her irritation was joined some peculiar weakness and pain in the joints. Then there was an itching of her face, but especially of her forehead above the eyebrows.

These minute symptoms seemed to her so alarming that she ceased to dread assassination, but straightway she sat down before a mirror, and told her servants to withdraw and leave her. At such times she thought neither of Ramses nor the hated Sarah; all her attention was fixed on those spots which an untrained eye would not have even noticed.

"A spot yes, these are spots," whispered she, full of terror. "Two, three O Astaroth, but Thou wilt not punish thy priestess in this way! Death would be better But again what folly! If I rub my forehead, the spots will be redder. Evidently something has bitten me, or I have used impure oil in anointing. I will wash, and the spots will be gone by to- morrow."

The morrow came, but the spots had not vanished.

Kama called a servant.

"Listen!" said she. "Look at me!"

But as she spoke she sat down in a less lighted part of the chamber.

"Listen and look!" said she, in a stifled voice. "Dost Thou see spots on my face? But come no nearer."

"I see nothing," answered the serving woman.

"Neither under my left eye nor on my brows?" asked she, with growing irritation.

"Let the lady be pleased graciously to sit with the side of her face to the light," said the woman.

Of course that request enraged Kama.

"Away, wretch," cried she; "show thyself no more to me!"

When the serving-woman fled, her mistress rushed feverishly to the dressing-table, opened two little toilet jars, and with a brush painted her face rose-color.

Toward evening, feeling continual pain in her joints and fear in her heart, which was worse than pain, she commanded to call a physician. When they told her that the physician had come, she looked at the mirror, and was seized by a new attack, as it were of insanity. She threw the mirror to the pavement, and cried out with weeping that she did not need the physician.

During the sixth of Hator she ate nothing all day and would see no person.

When the slave woman brought in a light after sun-down,

Kama lay on the bed, after she had wound herself in a shawl. She ordered the slave to go out as quickly as possible; then she sat in an armchair at a distance from the lamp, and passed some hours in a half- waking stupor.

"There are no spots," said she, "and if there are, they are not spots of that kind! They are not leprosy. O ye gods!" cried she, throwing herself on the pavement. "It cannot be that I O ye gods, save me! I will go back to the temple; I will do life-long penance I have no spots. I have been rubbing my skin for some days; that is why it is red. Again, how could I have it; has any one ever heard that a priestess and a woman of the heir to the throne could have leprosy? O ye gods! that never has happened since the world began. Only fishermen, prisoners, and vile Jews Oh, that low Jewess! Heavenly powers, oh, send down leprosy to her!"

At that moment some shadow passed by the window on the first story. Then a rustle was heard, and from the door to the middle of the room sprang in Lykon.

Kama was amazed. She seized her head suddenly, and in her eyes immense terror was depicted.

"Lykon!" whispered she. "Thou here, Lykon? Be off! They are searching for thee."

"I know," answered the Greek, with a jeering laugh. "All the Phoenicians are hunting me, and all the police of his holiness. Still I am with thee, and I have been in thy lord's chamber."

"Wert Thou with the prince?"

"Yes; in his own bedchamber. And I should have left a dagger in his breast if the evil spirits had not saved him. Evidently he went to some other woman, not to thee."

"What dost Thou wish here?" whispered Kama. "Flee!"

"But with thee. On the street a chariot is ready for us; on this we shall ride to the Nile, and there my boat is in waiting."

"Thou hast gone mad! But the city and the streets are filled with warriors."

"For that very reason I was able to enter this palace, and we can escape very easily. Collect all thy treasures. I shall be back here immediately and take thee."

"Whither art Thou going?"

"I am seeking thy lord. I shall not go without leaving him a memento."

"Thou art mad!"

"Be silent!" interrupted Lykon, pale from anger. "Thou wishest yet to defend him."

The Phoenician woman tottered; she clinched her fists, and an evil light flashed in her eyes.

"But if Thou canst not find him?"

"Then I will kill one of his sleeping warriors. I will set fire to the palace. Do I know what I shall do? But I will not go without leaving a memento."

The great eyes of the Phoenician woman had such a ghastly look that the Greek was astonished.

"What is the matter with thee?" asked Lykon.

"Nothing; listen. Thou hast never been so like the prince as today. Hence, if Thou wish to do a good thing."

She put her face to his ear and whispered.

The Greek listened in amazement.

"Woman," said he, "Hades speaks through thee."

"Yes; suspicion will be turned on him."

"That is better than a dagger," said Lykon, laughing. "Never could I have come on that idea. Perhaps both would be better?"

"No! Let her live. This will be my vengeance."

"What a wicked soul!" whispered Lykon. "But Thou pleasest me. We will pay them both in kingly fashion."

He withdrew to the window and vanished. Kama leaned out after him, and forgetting every other thing, listened in a fever.

Perhaps a quarter of an hour after the departure of Lykon, at the side of the fig grove rose the piercing shriek of a woman. It was repeated a couple of times, and then ceased.

Instead of the expected delight, terror seized Kama. She fell on her knees, and gazed into the dark garden with a wandering stare.

Below was heard almost noiseless running; there was a squeak at the pillar in the antechamber, and in the window appeared Lykon again in a dark mantle. He was panting with violence, and his hands trembled.

"Where are thy jewels?" whispered he.

"Let me alone," replied she.

The Greek seized her by the shoulder.

"Wretch! Dost Thou not understand that before sunrise they will imprison thee, and will strangle thee a couple of days later?"

"I am sick."

"Where are thy jewels?"

"Under the bed."

Lykon went to her bedchamber; with the light of a lamp he drew out a heavy casket, threw a mantle over Kama, and pulled her by the arm.

"Make ready! Where are the doors through which he comes to thee that lord of thine?"

"Leave me!"

The Greek bent to her, and whispered,

"Aha! Dost think that I will leave thee here? I care as much for thee now as I do for a dog that has lost sense of smell. But Thou must go with me. Let that lord of thine know that there is a man better than he. He stole a priestess from Astaroth, I take his mistress from the heir of Egypt."

"I tell thee that I am sick."

The Greek drew out a slender blade, and put the point of it to her throat.

Kama trembled, and whispered,

"I go."

They passed through the secret door to the garden. From the direction of the palace came the noise of warriors kindling fires. Here and there among the trees were lights; from time to time some one in the service of the heir passed the pair. At the gate the guard stopped them,

"Who are ye?"

"Thebes," answered Lykon.

Then they went out to the street unhindered, and vanished in the alleys of the foreign quarter.

Two hours before daybreak drums and trumpets sounded through the city.

Tutmosis was lying sunk in deep sleep, when Prince Ramses pulled his mantle, and called,

"Rise, watchful leader. The regiments are marching!"

Tutmosis sat up in bed and rubbed his drowsy eyes.

"Ah, is it thou, lord?" asked he, yawning. "Hast Thou slept?"

"As never before," replied Ramses.

"But I should like to sleep more."

Both bathed, put on their jackets and light mail, then mounted horses, which were tearing away from the equerries.

Soon the heir, with a small suite, left the city, and on the way passed slowly moving columns. The Nile had overflowed widely, and the prince wished to be present at the passage of fords and canals.

At sunrise the last army chariot was far outside the city, and the worthy nomarch of Pi-Bast said to his servants,

"I am going to sleep now, and woe to the man who rouses me before the hour of our feast in the evening! Even the divine sun rests when each day is past, while I have not lain down since the first day of Hator."

Before he had finished praising his own watchfulness, a police officer entered, and begged for a special hearing in a case of immense importance.

"Would that the earth had swallowed thee!" muttered the worthy nomarch.

But still he commanded to summon the officer, and inquired with ill- humor,

"Is it not possible to wait a few hours? The Nile will not run away, as it seems to me."

"A terrible misfortune has happened," replied the officer. "The son of the erpatr is killed."

"What? Who?" cried the nomarch.

"The son of the Jewess Sarah."

"Who killed him? When?"

"Last night."

"But who could do this?"

The officer bent his head and spread his arms.

"I asked who killed him?" repeated the nomarch, more astonished than angry.

"Be pleased, lord, thyself to investigate. My lips will not utter what my ears have heard."

The astonishment of the nomarch increased. He gave command to lead in Sarah's servants, and sent for Mefres, the high priest. Mentezufis, as representative of the minister of war, had gone with the viceroy.

The astonished Mefres came. The nomarch told of the murder of the child, and said that the police official dared not give explanations.

"But are there witnesses?" inquired the high priest.

"We are waiting for thy commands, holy father."

They brought in Sarah's doorkeeper.

"Hast Thou heard," inquired the nomarch, "that the child of thy mistress is killed?"

The man fell to the pavement, and answered,

"I have even seen the worthy remains broken against the wall, and I detained our lady when she ran out to the garden, screaming."

"When did this happen?"

"At midnight. Immediately after the most worthy heir came to our lady," answered the watch.

"How is this? Did the prince visit thy lady last night?" inquired Mefres.

"Thou hast said it, great prophet."

"This is wonderful!" whispered Mefres to the nomarch.

The second witness was Sarah's cook, the third her waiting woman. Both declared that after midnight the prince had entered Sarah's chamber, stayed there awhile, then run out quickly to the garden, and soon after him appeared Lady Sarah, screaming terribly.

"But the prince remained all night in his chamber; he did not leave the palace," said the nomarch.

The police-officer shook his head, and declared that some of the palace servants were waiting in the antechamber.

They were summoned. Mefres questioned them, and it appeared that the heir had not slept in the palace. He had left his chamber before midnight, and gone to the garden; he returned when the first trumpet sounded.

When the witnesses had been led out, and the two dignitaries were alone, the nomarch threw himself on the pavement, and declared to Mefres that he was grievously ill, and would rather lose his life than carry on investigations. The high priest was very pale and excited; but he replied that they must clear up a question of murder, and he commanded the nomarch in the name of the pharaoh-to go with him to Sarah's dwelling. It was not far to the garden of the heir, and the two dignitaries soon found themselves at the place where the crime had been committed.

When they entered the chamber on the first story, they saw Sarah kneeling at the cradle in such a posture as if nursing the child. On the wall and the pavement were blood spots.

The nomarch grew so weak that he was forced to sit down, but Mefres was calm. He approached Sarah, touched her arm, and said,

"We come hither, lady, in the name of his holiness."

Sarah sprang to her feet suddenly, and, looking at Mefres, cried in a terrible voice,

"A curse on you! Ye wished to have a Jew king, and here is the king for you. Oh, why did I, unfortunate, listen to your traitorous advice!"

She dropped, and fell again at the side of the cradle, groaning,

"My son my little Seti! How beautiful he was, so cunning; just stretching out his little hands to me! O Jehovah! give him back to me, for that is in Thy power. O gods of Egypt, Osiris, Horus, Isis, O Isis, for Thou too wert a mother! It cannot be that in the heavens there is not one who will listen to my prayer. Such a dear, little child! A hyena would have spared him."

The high priest took her by the arms, and put her on her feet. The police and the servants filled the room.

"Sarah," said the high priest, "in the name of his holiness, the lord of Egypt, I summon thee, and command thee to answer, Who killed thy son?"

She gazed straight ahead, like a maniac, and rubbed her forehead.

The nomarch gave her water and wine, and one of the women present sprinkled her with vinegar.

"In the name of his holiness," repeated Mefres, "I command thee, Sarah, to tell the name of the murderer."

Those present withdrew toward the door; the nomarch with despairing action closed both his ears.

"Who killed?" said Sarah, in a panting voice, sinking her gaze in the face of Mefres. "Who killed, dost Thou ask? I know you, ye priests! I know your justice."

"Then who killed?" insisted Mefres.

"I!" cried Sarah, in an unearthly voice. "I killed my child, because ye made him a Jew."

"That is false!" hissed the high priest.

"I, I!" repeated Sarah. "Hei, Ye people who see me and hear me," she turned to the witnesses, "ye know that I killed him I I I!" cried she, beating her breast.

At such an explicit accusation of herself the nomarch recovered, and looked with compassion on Sarah; the women sobbed, the doorkeeper wiped away tears. But the holy Mefres closed his blue lips firmly. At last he said, with emphatic voice, while looking at the police official,

"Servants of his holiness, I surrender this woman, whom ye are to conduct to the edifice of justice."

"But my son with me!" interrupted Sarah, rushing to the cradle.

"With thee, with thee, poor woman," said the nomarch; and he covered his face.

The dignitaries went out of the chamber. The police officer had a litter brought, and with marks of the highest respect conducted Sarah down to it. The unfortunate woman seized a blood-stained bundle from the cradle, and took a seat, without resistance, in the litter.

All the servants went after her to the chamber of justice.

When Mefres, with the nomarch, was passing through the garden, the nomarch said,

"I have compassion on that woman."

"She will be punished properly for lying," answered the high priest.

"Dost Thou think so, worthiness?"

"I am certain that the gods will discover and punish the real murderer."

At the garden gate the steward of Kama's villa stood in the road before them.

"The Phoenician woman is gone. She disappeared last night."

"A new misfortune," whispered the nomarch.

"Have no fear," said Mefres; "she followed the prince."

From these answers the worthy nomarch saw that Mefres hated the prince, and his heart sank in him. If they proved that Ramses had killed his own son, the heir would never ascend the throne of his fathers, and the heavy yoke of the priesthood would weigh down still more mightily on Egypt.

The sadness of the nomarch increased when they told him in the evening that two physicians of the temple of Hator, when looking at the corpse of the infant, had expressed the opinion that only a man could have committed the murder. Some man, said they, seized with his right hand the feet of the little boy, and broke his skull against the wall of the building. Sarah's hand could not clasp both legs, on which, moreover, were traces of large fingers.

After this explanation Mefres, in company with the high priest Sem, went to Sarah in the prison, and implored her by all the gods of Egypt and of foreign lands to declare that she was not guilty of the death of the child, and to describe the person of the murderer.

"We will believe thy word," said Mefres, "and Thou wilt be free immediately."

But Sarah, instead of being moved by this proof of friendliness, fell into anger.

"Jackals," cried she, "two victims are not enough; ye want still more. I, unfortunate woman, did this; I, for who else would be so abject as to kill a child a little child that had never harmed any one?"

"But dost Thou know, stubborn woman, what threatens thee?" asked the holy Mefres. "Thou wilt hold the remains of thy child for three days in thy arms, and then be fifteen years in prison."

"Only three days?" repeated Sarah. "But I would never part with my little Seti; and not only to prison, but to the grave will I go with him, and my lord will command to bury us together."

When the high priest left Sarah, the most pious Sem said,

"I have seen mothers who killed their own children, and I have judged them; but none were like her."

"For she did not kill her child," answered Mefres, angrily.

"Who, then?"

"He whom the servants saw when he rushed into Sarah's house and fled a moment later; he who, when going against the enemy, took with him the priestess Kama, who denied the altar; he," concluded Mefres, excitedly, "who hunted Sarah out of the house, and made her a slave because her son had been made a Jew."

"Thy words are terrible," answered Sem, in alarm.

"The criminal is still worse, and, in spite of that stupid woman's stubbornness, he will be discovered."

But the holy man did not suppose that his prophecy would be accomplished so quickly.

And it was accomplished in the following manner: Prince Ramses, when moving from Pi-Bast with the army, had not left the palace when the chief of the police learned of the murder of Sarah's child, and the flight of Kama, and this, too, that Sarah's servants saw the prince entering her house in the night time. The chief of police was a very keen person; he pondered over this question, Who could have committed the crime? and instead of inquiring on the spot, he hastened to pursue the guilty parties outside the city, and forewarned Hiram of what had happened.

While Mefres was trying to extort a confession from Sarah, the most active agents of the Pi-Bast police, and with them every Phoenician under the leadership of Hiram, were hunting the Greek Lykon and the priestess Kama.

So three nights after the prince had departed, the chief of police returned to Pi-Bast, bringing with him a large cage covered with linen, in which was some woman who screamed in heaven-piercing accents. Without lying down to sleep, the chief summoned the officer who had made the investigation, and listened to his report attentively.

At sunrise the two priests, Sem and Mefres, with the nomarch of Pi- Bast, received a most humble invitation to deign immediately, should such be their will, to come to the chief of police. In fact, all three entered at the very same moment; so the chief, bending low, implored them to tell all that they knew concerning the murder of the son of the viceroy.

The nomarch, though a great dignitary, grew pale when he heard the humble invitation, and answered that he knew nothing. The high priest Sem gave almost the same answer, adding, for himself, the reflection that Sarah seemed to him innocent.

When the turn came to the holy Mefres, he said,

"I know not whether Thou hast heard, worthiness, that during the night of the crime one of the prince's women escaped; her name was Kama."

The chief of police feigned to be greatly astonished.

"I know not," continued Mefres, "whether they have told thee that the heir did not pass the night in the palace, but was in Sarah's house. The doorkeeper and two servants recognized him, for the night was rather clear. It is a great pity," finished the high priest, "that Thou hast not been here these two days past."

The chief bowed very low to Mefres, and turned to the nomarch,

"Wouldst Thou be pleased, worthiness, to tell me, graciously, how the prince was dressed that evening?"

"He wore a white jacket, and a purple apron with gold fringe," answered the nomarch. "I remember very well, for that evening I was one of the last who spoke with him."

The chief of the police clapped his hands, and Sarah's doorkeeper entered the chamber.

"Didst Thou see the prince," inquired he, "when he came in the night to the house of thy lady?"

"I opened the door to his worthiness, may he live through eternity!"

"And dost Thou remember how he was dressed?"

"He wore a jacket with yellow and black stripes, a cap of the same colors, and a blue and red apron," answered the doorkeeper.

Both priests and the nomarch began to wonder.

Then they brought in Sarah's servants, who repeated exactly the same description of the prince's dress. The nomarch's eyes flashed with delight, but on the face of the holy Mefres confusion was evident.

"I will swear," put in the worthy nomarch, "that the prince wore a white jacket and a purple apron with gold fringe."

"Now, most worthy men," said the chief of police, "be pleased to come with me to the prison. There we shall see one more witness."

They went to a subterranean hall, where under a window stood a great cage covered with linen. The chief threw back the linen with his stick, and those present saw a woman lying in a corner.

"But this is the Lady Kama!" cried the nomarch.

It was indeed Kama, sick and changed very greatly. When she rose at sight of the dignitaries, and appeared in the light, those present saw that her face had bronze-colored spots on it. Her eyes seemed wandering.

"Kama," said the chief, "the goddess Astaroth has touched thee with leprosy."

"It was not the goddess!" said she, with a changed voice. "It was the low Asiatics, who threw in a tainted veil to me. Oh, I am unfortunate!"

"Kama," continued the chief, "our most famous high priests, Sem and Mefres, have taken compassion on thee. If Thou wilt tell the truth, they will pray for thee, and perhaps the all-mighty Osiris will turn from thee misfortune. There is still time, the disease is only beginning, and our gods have great power."

The sick woman fell on her knees, and pressing her face against the grating, said in a broken voice,

"Have compassion on me! I have renounced Phoenician gods, and to the end of life will serve the gods of Egypt. Only avert from me."

"Answer, but answer truly," said the chief, "and the gods will not refuse thee their favor. Who killed the child of the Jewess Sarah?"

"The traitor, Lykon, the Greek. He was a singer in our temple, and said that he loved me. But he has rejected me, the infamous traitor, and seized my jewels."

"Why did Lykon kill the child?"

"He wanted to kill the prince, but not finding him in the palace, he ran to Sarah's villa."

"How did the criminal enter a house that was guarded?"

"Dost Thou not know that Lykon resembles the prince? They are as much alike as two leaves of one palm-tree."

"How was Lykon dressed that night?"

"He wore a jacket in yellow and black stripes, a cap of the same material, and a red and blue apron. Do not torment me; return me my health! Be compassionate! I will be faithful to your gods! Are ye going already? Oh, hard-hearted!"

"Poor woman," said the high priest Sem, "I will send to thee a mighty worker of miracles; he may."

"May ye be blessed by Astaroth! No, may your almighty and compassionate gods bless you," whispered Kama, in dreadful weariness.

The dignitaries left the prison and returned to the upper hall. The nomarch, seeing that the high priest Mefres kept his eyes cast down and his lips fixed, asked him,

"Art Thou not rejoiced, holy man, at these wonderful discoveries made by our chief?"

"I have no reason to rejoice," answered Mefres, dryly. "The case, instead of being simplified, has grown difficult. Sarah asserts that she killed the child, while the Phoenician woman answers as if some one had taught her."

"Then dost Thou not believe, worthiness?" interrupted the chief.

"No, for I have never seen two men so much alike that one could be mistaken for the other. Still more, I have never heard that there exists in Pi-Bast a man who could counterfeit our viceroy, may he live through eternity!"

"That man," said the chief, "was in Pi-Bast, at the temple of Astaroth. The Tyrian Prince Hiram knew him, and our viceroy has seen him with his own eyes. More than that, not long ago, he commanded me to seize him, and even offered a large reward."

"Ho! ho!" cried Mefres, "I see, worthy chief, I see that the highest secrets of the state are concentrating about thee. But permit me not to believe in that Lykon till I see him."

And he left the hall in anger, and after him Sem, shrugging his shoulders. But when their steps had ceased to sound in the corridor, the nomarch, looking quickly at the chief, asked,

"What dost Thou think?"

"Indeed," said the chief, "the holy prophets are beginning to interfere in things which have never been under their jurisdiction."

"And we must endure this!" whispered the nomarch.

"For a time only," sighed the chief. "In so far as I know men's hearts, all the military, all the officials of his holiness, in fine, all the aristocracy, are indignant at this priestly tyranny. Everything must have its limit."

"Thou hast uttered great words," said the nomarch, pressing the chief's hand, "and some internal voice tells me that I shall see thee as supreme chief of police at the side of his holiness."

A couple of days passed. During this time the dissectors had secured from corruption the remains of the viceroy's son; but Sarah continued in prison, awaiting her trial, certain that she would be condemned.

Kama was sitting, also, confined in her cage; people feared her, for she was infected with leprosy. It is true that a miracle-working physician visited her, repeated prayers before her, gave her everything to drink, and gave her healing water. Still, fever did not leave the woman, and the bronze-colored spots on her cheeks and brows grew more definite. Therefore an order came from the nomarch to take her out to the eastern desert, where, separated from mankind, dwelt a colony of lepers.

On a certain evening the chief appeared at the temple of Ptah, saying that he wished to speak with the high priest. The chief had with him two agents, and a man covered from head to foot in a bag.

After a while an answer was sent to the chief that the high priests were awaiting him in the sacred chamber of the statue of their divinity.

The chief left the agents before the gate, took by the arm the man dressed in the bag, and, conducted by a priest, went to the sacred chamber. When he entered, he found Mefres and Sem arrayed as high priests, with silver plates on their bosoms.

He fell before them on the pavement, and said,

"In accordance with your commands, I bring to you, holy fathers, the criminal Lykon. Do ye wish to see his face?"

When they assented, the chief rose, and pulled the bag from the man standing near him.

Both high priests cried out with astonishment. The Greek was really so like Ramses that it was impossible to resist the deception.

"Thou art Lykon, the singer from the temple of Astaroth?" asked the holy Sem of the bound Greek.

Lykon smiled contemptuously.

"And didst Thou kill the child of the prince?" added Mefres.

The Greek grew blue from rage, and strove to tear off his bonds.

"Yes!" cried he, "I killed the whelp, for I could not find the wolf, his father, may heaven's blazes burn him!"

"In what has the prince offended thee, criminal?" asked the indignant Sem.

"In what? He seized from me Kama, and plunged her into a disease for which there is no remedy. I was free, I might have fled with life and property, but I resolved to avenge myself, and now ye have me. It was his luck that your gods are mightier than my hatred. Now ye may kill me; the sooner ye do so, the better."

"This is a great criminal," said Sem.

Mefres was silent and gazed into the Greek's eyes, which were burning with rage. He admired his courage, and fell to thinking. All at once he said to the chief,

"Worthy sir, Thou mayst go, this man belongs to us."

"This man," replied the chief, who was indignant, "belongs to me. I seized him and I shall receive a reward from Prince Ramses."

Mefres rose and drew forth from under his mantle a gold medal.

"In the name of the supreme council, of which I am a member," said he, "I command thee to yield this man to us. Remember that his existence is among the highest state secrets, and indeed it would be a hundred times better for thee to forget that Thou hast left him here."

The chief fell again to the pavement, and went out repressing his anger.

"Our lord the prince will repay you when he is the pharaoh!" thought he. "And he will pay you my part ye will see."

"Where is the prisoner?" asked the agents standing before the gate.

"In prison," answered the chief; "the hands of the gods have rested on him."

"And our reward?" asked the elder agent.

"The hands of the gods have rested on your reward also. Imagine then to yourselves that ye saw that prisoner only in a dream, ye will be safer in health and in service."

The agents dropped their heads in silence. But in their hearts they swore vengeance against the priests, who had taken a handsome reward from them.

After the chief had gone Mefres summoned a number of priests, and whispered something into the ears of the eldest. The priests surrounded the Greek and conducted him out of the chamber. Lykon made no resistance.

"I think," said Sem, "that this man should be brought before the court as a murderer."

"Never!" cried Mefres, with decision. "On this man weighs an incomparably greater crime, he is like the heir to the throne."

"And what wilt Thou do with him, worthiness?"

"I will reserve him for the supreme council," said Mefres. "When the heir to the throne visits pagan temples and steals from them women, when the country is threatened with danger of war, and the power of the priests with rebellion, Lykon may be of service."

On the following midday the high priest Sem, the nomarch, and the chief of police went to Sarah's prison. The unfortunate woman had not eaten for a number of days, and was so weak that she did not rise from the bench even in presence of so many dignitaries.

"Sarah," said the nomarch, whom she had known before, "we bring thee good news."

"News," repeated she with a pathetic voice. "My son is not living, that is the news; my breast is full of nourishment, but my heart is full of sadness."

"Sarah," said the nomarch, "Thou art free. Thou didst not kill thy child."

Her seemingly dead features revived. She sprang from the bench, and cried,

"I I killed him only I."

"Consider, Sarah, a man killed thy son, a Greek, named Lykon, the lover of the Phoenician Kama."

"What dost Thou say?" whispered she, seizing the nomarch's hands. "Oh, that Phoenician woman! I knew that she would ruin us. But the Greek? I know no Greek. How could my son offend any man?"

"I know not," continued the nomarch. "That Greek is no longer alive. But that man was so like Prince Ramses that when he entered thy chamber Thou didst think him our lord. And Thou hast preferred to accuse thy own self rather than our lord, and thine."

"Then that was not Ramses?" cried she, seizing her head. "And I, wretched woman, let a strange man take my son from his cradle. Ha! ha! ha!"

Then she laughed more and more. On a sudden, as if her legs had been cut from under her, she fell to the floor, her hands hopped a couple of times, and she died in hysteric laughter.

But on her face remained an expression of sorrow which even death could not drive from it.

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Chapter XLII

THE western boundary of Egypt for a distance of more than a hundred geographic miles is composed of a wall of naked limestone hills about two hundred meters high, intersected by ravines. They run parallel to the Nile, from which they are sometimes five miles distant, sometimes one kilometer. Whoso should clamber up one of these hills and turn his face northward would see one of the strangest sights possible. He would have on his right hand the narrow but green plain cut lengthwise by the Nile; on his left he would see an endless yellow open region, varied by spots, white or brick colored.

Monotony, the irritating yellow color of the sand plain, the heat, and, above all, boundless immensity are the most peculiar traits of the Libyan desert, which extends westward from Egypt.

But viewed more nearly the desert is in fact less monotonous. Its sand is not level, but forms a series of swellings which recall immense waves of water. It is like a roused sea solidified on a sudden. But whoso should have the courage to go across that sea for an hour, two hours, a day, directly westward would see a new sight. On the horizon would appear eminences, sometimes cliffs and rocks of the strangest outlines. Under foot the sand would grow thinner, and from beneath it limestone rocks would emerge just like land out of water.

In fact that was a land, or even a country in the midst of a sand ocean. Around the limestone hills were valleys, in them the beds of streams and rivers, farther on a plain, and in the middle of it a lake with a bending line of shores and a sunken bottom.

But on these plains, hills, and heights no blade of grass grows; in the lake there is no drop of water; along the bed of the river no current moves. That is a landscape, even greatly varied with respect to forms, but a landscape from which all water has departed, the very last atom of moisture has dried from it; a dead landscape, where not only all vegetation has vanished, but even the fertile stratum of earth has been ground into dust or dried up into rock slabs.

In those places the most ghastly event has taken place of which it is possible to meditate: Nature has died there, and nothing remains but her dust and her skeleton, which heat dissolves to the last degree, and burning wind tosses from spot to spot.

Beyond this dead, unburied region stretches again a sea of sand, on which are seen, here and there, towering up in one and another place, pointed stacks as high as a house of one story. Each summit of such a little hill is crowned by a small bunch of gray, fine, dusty leaves, of which it is difficult to say that they are living; but it may be said that they cannot wither.

One of these strange stacks signifies that water in that place has not dried up altogether, but has hidden from drought beneath the earth, and preserves dampness in some way. On that spot a tamarind seed fell, and the plant has begun to grow with endless effort.

But Typhon, the lord of the desert, has noted this, and begun to stifle it with sand. And the more the little plant pushes upward, the higher rises the stack of sand which is choking it. That tamarind which has wandered into the desert looks like a drowning man raising his arms, in vain, heavenward.

And again the yellow boundless ocean stretches on with its sand waves and those fragments of the plant world which have not the power to perish. All at once a rocky wall is in front, and in it clefts, which serve as gateways.

The incredible is before us. Beyond one of these gateways a broad green plain appears, a multitude of palms, the blue waters of a lake. Even sheep are seen pasturing, with cattle and horses. From afar, on the sides of a cliff, towers up a town; on the summit of the cliff are the white walls of a temple.

That is an oasis, or island in the sand ocean.

In the time of the pharaohs there were many such oases, perhaps some tens of them. They formed a chain of islands in the desert, along the western boundary of Egypt. They lay at a distance of ten, fifteen, or twenty geographic miles from the Nile, and varied in size from a few to a few tens of square kilometers in area.

Celebrated by Arab poets, these oases were never really the forecourts of paradise. Their lakes are swamps for the greater part; from their underground sources flow waters which are warm, sometimes of evil odor, and disgustingly brackish; their vegetation could not compare with the Egyptian. Still, these lonely places seemed a miracle to wanderers in the desert, who found in them a little green for the eye, a trifle of coolness, dampness, and some dates also.

The population of these islands in the sand ocean varied from a few hundred persons to numbers between ten and twenty thousand, according to area. These people were all adventurers or their descendants, Europeans, Libyans, Ethiopians. To the desert fled people who had nothing to lose, convicts from the quarries, criminals pursued by police, earth-tillers escaping from tribute, or laborers who left hard work for danger. The greater part of these fugitives died on the sand ocean. Some of them, after sufferings beyond description, were able to reach the oases, where they passed a wretched life, but a free one, and they were ready at all times to fall upon Egypt for the sake of an outlaw's recompense.

Between the desert and the Mediterranean extended a very long, though not very wide strip of fruitful soil, inhabited by tribes which the Egyptians called Libyans. Some of these worked at land tilling, others at navigation and fishing; in each tribe, however, was a crowd of wild people, who preferred plunder, theft, and warfare to regular labor. That bandit population was perishing always between poverty and warlike adventure; but it was also recruited by an influx of Sicilians and Sardinians, who at that time were greater robbers and barbarians than were the native Libyans.

Since Libya touched the western boundary of Lower Egypt, barbarians made frequent inroads on the territory of his holiness, and were terribly punished. Convinced at last that war with Libyans was result- less, the pharaohs, or, more accurately, the priesthood, decided on another system: real Libyan families were permitted to settle in the swamps of Lower Egypt, near the seacoast, while adventurers and bandits were enlisted in the army, and became splendid warriors.

In this way the state secured peace on the western boundary. To keep single Libyan robbers in order police were sufficient, with a field guard and a few regiments of regulars disposed along the Canopus arm of the great river.

Such a condition of affairs lasted almost two centuries; the last war with the Libyans was carried on by Ramses III, who cut enormous piles of hands from his slain enemies, and brought thirteen thousand slaves home to Egypt. From that time forth no one feared attack on the Libyan boundary, and only toward the end of the reign of Ramses XII did the strange policy of the priests kindle the flame of war again in those regions.

It burst out through the following causes:

His worthiness, Herhor, the minister of war, and high priest of Amon, because of resistance from his holiness the pharaoh, was unable to conclude with Assyria a treaty for the division of Asia. But wishing, as Beroes had forewarned him, to keep a more continued peace with Assyria, Herhor assured Sargon that Egypt would not hinder them from carrying on a war with eastern and northern Asiatics.

And since Sargon, the ambassador of King Assar, seemed not to trust their oaths, Herhor decided to give him a material proof of friendly feeling, and, with this object, ordered to disband at once twenty thousand mercenaries, mainly Libyans.

For those disbanded warriors, who were in no way guilty and had been always loyal, this decision almost equaled a death sentence. Before Egypt appeared the danger of a war with Libya, which could in no case give refuge to men in such numbers, men accustomed only to comforts and military exercise, not to poverty and labor. But in view of great questions of state, Herhor and the priests did not hesitate at trifles.

Indeed, the disbanding of the Libyans brought them much advantage.

First of all, Sargon and his associates signed and swore to a treaty of ten years with the pharaoh, during which time, according to predictions of priests in Chaldea, evil fates were impending over Egypt.

Second, the disbanding of twenty thousand men spared four thousand talents to the treasury; this was greatly important.

Third, a war with Libya on the western boundary was an outlet for the heroic instincts of the viceroy, and might turn his attention from Asiatic questions and the eastern boundary for a long time. His worthiness Herhor and the supreme council had calculated very keenly that some years would pass before the Libyans, trained in petty warfare, would ask for peace with Egypt.

The plan was well constructed, but the authors of it failed in one point; they had not found Ramses a military genius.

The disbanded Libyan regiments robbed along the way, and reached their birthplace very quickly, all the more quickly since Herhor had given no command to place obstacles before them. The very first of the disbanded men, when they stood on Libyan soil, told wonders to their relatives.

According to their stories, dictated by anger and personal interest, Egypt was then as weak as when the Hyksos invaded it nine hundred years earlier. The pharaoh's treasury was so poor that he, the equal of the gods, had to disband them, the Libyans, who were the chief, if not the only honor of the army. Moreover, there was hardly any army unless a mere band on the eastern boundary, and that was formed of warriors of a common order.

Besides, there was dissension between the priesthood and his holiness. The laborers had not received their wages, and the earth tillers were simply killed through taxes, therefore masses of men were ready to rebel if they could only find assistance. And that was not the whole case, for the nomarchs, who ruled once independently, and who from time to time demanded their rights again, seeing now the weakness of the government, were preparing to overturn both the pharaoh and the supreme priestly council.

These tidings flew, like a flock of birds, along the Libyan boundary, and found credit quickly. Those barbarians and bandits ever ready to attack, were all the more ready then, when ex-warriors and officers of his holiness assured them that to plunder Egypt was easy.

Rich and thoughtful Libyans believed the disbanded men also; for during many years it had been to them no secret that Egyptian nobles were losing wealth yearly, that the pharaoh had no power, and that earth- tillers and laborers rebelled because they suffered.

And so excitement burst out through all Libya. People greeted the disbanded warriors and officers as heralds of good tidings. And since the country was poor, and had no supplies to nourish visitors, a war with Egypt was decided on straightway, so as to send off the new arrivals at the earliest.

Even the wise and crafty Libyan prince, Musawasa, let himself be swept away by the general current. It was not, however, the disbanded warriors who had convinced him, but certain grave and weighty persons who, in every likelihood, were agents of the chief Egyptian council.

These dignitaries, as if dissatisfied with things in Egypt, or offended at the pharaoh and the priesthood, had come to Libya from the seashore; they took no part in conversations, they avoided meetings with disbanded warriors, and explained to Musawasa, as the greatest secret, and with proofs in hand, that that was just his time to fall on Egypt.

"Thou wilt find there endless wealth," said they, "and granaries for thyself, thy people, and the grandsons of thy grandsons."

Musawasa, though a skilful diplomat and leader, let himself be caught in that way. Like a man of energy, he declared a sacred war at once, and, as he had valiant warriors in thousands, he hurried off the first corps eastward. His son, Tehenna, who was twenty years of age at that time, led it.

The old barbarian knew what war was, and understood that he who plans to conquer must act with speed and give the first blows in the struggle.

Libyan preparations were very brief. The former warriors of his holiness had no weapons, it is true, but they knew their trade, and it was not difficult in those days to find weapons for an army. A few straps, or pieces of rope for a sling, a dart or a sharpened stick, an axe, or a heavy club, a bag of stones, and another of dates, that was the whole problem.

So Musawasa gave two thousand men, ex-warriors of the pharaoh, and four thousand of the Libyan rabble to Tehenna, commanding him to fall on Egypt at the earliest, seize whatever he could find, and collect provisions for the real army. Assembling for himself the most important forces, he sent swift runners through the oases and summoned to his standard all who had no property.

There had not been such a movement in the desert for a long time. From each oasis came crowd after crowd, such a proletariat, that, though almost naked, they deserved to be called a tattered rabble. Relying on the opinion of his counselors, who a month earlier had been officers of his holiness, Musawasa supposed, with perfect judgment, that his son would plunder hundreds of villages and small places from Teremethis to Senti-Nofer, before he would meet important Egyptian forces. Finally they reported to him, that at the first news of a movement among the Libyans, not only had all laborers fled from the glass works, but that even the troops had withdrawn from fortresses in Sochet-Heman on the Soda Lakes.

This was of very good import to the barbarians, since those glass works were an important source of income to the pharaoh's treasury.

Musawasa had made the same mistake as the supreme priestly council. He had not foreseen military genius in Ramses. And an uncommon thing happened: before the first Libyan corps had reached the neighborhood of the Soda Lakes the viceroy's army was there, and was twice as numerous as its enemies.

No man could reproach the Libyans with lack of foresight. Tehenna and his staff had a very well-organized service. Their spies had made frequent visits to Melcatis, Naucratis, Sai, Menuf, and Teremethis, and had sailed across the Canopus and Bolbita arms of the Nile. Nowhere did they meet troops; the movements of troops would have been paralyzed in those places by the overflow, but they did see almost everywhere the alarm of settled populations which were simply fleeing from border villages. So they brought their leader exact intelligence.

Meanwhile the viceroy's army, in spite of the overflow, had reached the edge of the desert in nine days after it was mobilized, and now, furnished with water and provisions, it vanished among the hills of the Soda Lakes.

If Tehenna could have risen like an eagle above the camp of his warriors, he would have been frightened at seeing that Egyptian regiments were hidden in all the ravines of that district, and that his corps might be surrounded at any instant.

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