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 Phœnicians.”
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 Phœnicians 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 Phœnicians.”
“Men say, Erpatr, that thou dost visit that Phœnician 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—”
[Pg 327] “But through that Phœnician 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 Phœnicians are more dextrous than Egyptians. Our wealthy men would make sour 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 Phœnicians 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 Phœnicia?”
While asking this question, he had his eyes fixed on the face of the heir. But Rameses 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.
[Pg 328] “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 Rameses, with feigned anger 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?”
Rameses 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 [Pg 329] of rest which she needed. After their departure the prince called his adjutant. When alone with Tutmosis, his long-restrained anger 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 Rameses 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 to-day 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 Phœnicia. But the Phœnicians 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 Phœnicians will have peace for a couple of years in every case,—time in which to prepare defence and find allies—”
The prince waved his hand impatiently.
“See,” said he, interrupting Tutmosis, “even Phœnicia 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 [Pg 330] 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 someone in them were listening; then he sat down again near Rameses, 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 he live through eternity!”
Rameses 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—”
[Pg 331] “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 Phœnicians 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 days have passed when all Egypt believed in everything announced from temples. At present we insult the Phœnician gods, the Phœnicians 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 to-day, 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 Phœnicians,” 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 Phœnicians and their allies would join us. And thy army would be larger than that which Rameses the Great had behind him.”
[Pg 332] This zeal of the Phœnicians 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 Phœnicians 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 Phœnicians. He recalled, however, his father’s words, that Phœnicians were truth-speaking and faithful whenever truth was in their interest. Beyond doubt the Phœnicians 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, Phœnicia.
On the other hand, Rameses 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 [Pg 333] that he 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 Phœnician women?”
“I am not afraid of Phœnician women, but of Phœnicia,” said Sarah; “thou knowest not, lord, what bad people the Phœnicians are.”
“Do they burn children?” laughed Rameses.
“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.”
[Pg 334] “Hiram!” cried Sarah, “Hiram! but he is the most wicked of all! Ask my father, and he will tell thee how 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 Rameses.
“Very much. Thou, O lord, art listening to Phœnician counsels; but our Jews have learned that Phœnicia 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 Phœnicians 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 Phœnicians? 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 Phœnicians as from venomous serpents.”
Rameses looked at Sarah, and involuntarily he compared her sincere love with the calculations of the Phœnician priestess, her outbursts of tenderness with the treacherous coldness of Kama.
“Indeed,” thought he, “the Phœnicians are poisonous [Pg 335] reptiles. But if Rameses 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 Phœnicians? 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, Rameses, 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 to-day, 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 Rameses, 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 Phœnician, 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 [Pg 336] 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 Rameses, 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 Phœnicians. Slay me, imprison me, but be not angry at Phœnicians.”
“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 Rameses.
“And ye will not take vengeance on me?” asked she of Hiram, with fear.
“Phœnicia,” replied the old man, deliberately and with emphasis, “forgives the greatest offence to that person who possesses the favor of our lord Rameses,—may he live through [Pg 337] 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 Rameses’ head; he embraced the kneeling Kama, and asked,—
“Hast thou heard the words of the worthy Hiram? Phœnicia 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 to-day, 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! Phœnicia, 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 to-day, and not here,” implored Kama.