About nine in the evening Phut left the inn "Under the Ship" in
company with a negro who carried a torch. Half an hour earlier
Asarhadon sent out a confidential servant, commanding him to observe
carefully if the guest from Harran left the house of the "Green Star,"
and if so to follow him.
A second confidential servant went at a certain distance behind Phut;
in the narrower streets he hid among the houses, on the broader ones
he feigned drunkenness.
The streets were empty; carriers and hucksters were sleeping. There
was light only in the houses of artisans who were at work, or in those
of rich people who were feasting on the terraces. In various houses
were heard the sounds of harps and flutes, songs, laughter, the blows
of hammers, the sound of saws in the hands of cabinet makers; at times
the cry of a drunken man, or a call for assistance.
The streets along which Phut and the slave passed were narrow for the
greater part, crooked and full of holes. As they approached the end of
the journey, the stone houses were lower and lower, those of one story
more frequent, and there were more gardens, or rather palms,
fig-trees, and stunted acacias, which, inclining out from between the
walls, seemed to have the intention to escape from their places. On
the Street of Tombs the view changed on a sudden. In place of stone
buildings there were broad gardens, and in the middle of them splendid
villas. The negro stopped before one of the gates and quenched his
torch.
"Here is the 'Green Star,'" said he, and, making a low bow to Phut, he
turned homeward.
The man of Harran knocked at the gate. After a while the gatekeeper
appeared. He looked attentively at the stranger, and muttered,--
"Anael, Sachiel."
"Amabiel, Abalidot," answered Phut.
"Be greeted," said the gatekeeper; and he opened quickly to the
visitor.
When he had passed some tens of steps between trees, Phut found
himself in the antechamber of the villa, where the priestess whom he
knew greeted him. Farther in stood some man with black beard and hair;
so much like the man of Harran was he, that Phut could not hide his
astonishment.
"He will take thy place in the eyes of those who are spying thee,"
said the priestess, smiling.
The man who was disguised as Phut put a garland of roses on his head,
and in company with the priestess went to the first story, where the
sound of flutes and the clatter of goblets were heard soon after.
Meanwhile two inferior priests conducted Phut to a bath in the garden.
After the bath they curled his hair and put white robes on him.
From the bath all three went out again among the trees, passed a
number of gardens, and found themselves in an empty space finally.
"There," said one of the priests, "are the ancient tombs; on that side
is the city, and here the temple. Go whithersoever thou wishest. May
wisdom point out the road to thee, and sacred words guard thee from
perils."
The two priests went back to the garden, and Phut was in solitude. The
moonless night was rather clear. From afar, covered with mist,
glittered the Nile; higher up gleamed the seven stars of the Great
Bear. Over the head of the stranger was Orion, and above the dark
pylons flamed the star Sirius.
"The stars shine in our land more brightly," thought Phut.
He began to whisper prayers in an unknown tongue, and turned toward
the temple.
When he had gone a number of steps, from one of the gardens a man
pushed out and followed him. But almost at that very moment such a
thick fog fell on the place that it was quite impossible to see aught
save the roofs of the temple.
After a certain time the man of Harran came to a high wall. He looked
up at the sky and began to go westward. From moment to moment night
birds and great bats flew above him. The mist had become so dense
that he was forced to touch the wall so as not to lose it. The journey
had lasted rather long when all at once Phut found himself before a
low door with a multitude of bronze nail heads. He fell to counting
these from the left side on the top; at the same time he pressed some
of them powerfully, others he turned.
When he had pressed the last nail at the bottom, the door opened. The
man of Harran advanced a few steps, and found himself in a narrow
niche where there was utter darkness.
He tried the ground carefully with his foot till he struck upon
something like the brink of a well from which issued coolness. He sat
down then and slipped fearlessly into the abyss, though he found
himself in that place and in Egypt for the first time.
The opening was not deep. Phut stood erect on a sloping pavement, and
began to descend along a narrow corridor with as much confidence as if
he had known the passage for a lifetime.
At the end of the corridor was a door. By groping the stranger found a
knocker, and struck three times with it. In answer came a voice, it
was unknown from what direction.
"Hast thou, who art disturbing in a night hour the peace of a holy
place, the right to enter?"
"I have done no wrong to man, child, or woman. Blood has not stained
my hands. I have eaten no unclean food. I have not taken another's
property. I have not lied. I have not betrayed the great secret,"
answered the man of Harran, calmly.
"Art thou he for whom we are waiting, or he who in public thou
declarest thyself to be?" inquired the voice, after a while.
"I am he who was to come from brethren in the East; but that other
name is mine also, and in the northern city I possess a house and
land, as I have told other persons."
The door opened, and Phut walked into a spacious cellar which was
lighted by a lamp burning on a small table before a purple curtain. On
the curtain was embroidered in gold a winged globe with two serpents.
At one side stood an Egyptian priest in a white robe.
"Dost thou who hast entered," asked the priest, pointing at Phut,
"know what this sign on the curtain signifies?"
"The globe," answered the stranger, "is an image of the world on which
we live; the wings indicate that it is borne through space like an
eagle."
"And the serpents?" asked the priest.
"The two serpents remind him who is wise that whoso betrays the great
secret will die a double death,--he will die soul and body."
After a moment of silence the priest continued,--
"If thou art in real fact Beroes" (here he inclined his head), "the
great prophet of Chaldea" (he inclined his head a second time), "for
whom there is no secret in heaven or on earth, be pleased to inform
thy servant which star is the most wonderful."
"Wonderful is Hor-set,[7] which encircles heaven in the course of
twelve years; for four smaller stars go around it. But the most
wonderful is Horka,[8] which encircles heaven in thirty years; for it
has subject to it not only stars, but a great ring which vanishes
sometimes."
[7] Jupiter.
[8] Saturn.
On hearing this, the Egyptian priest prostrated himself before the
Chaldean. Then he gave him a purple scarf and a muslin veil, indicated
where the incense was, and left the cave with low obeisances.
The Chaldean remained alone. He put the scarf on his right shoulder,
covered his face with the veil, and, taking a golden spoon sprinkled
into it incense, which he lighted at the lamp before the curtain.
Whispering, he turned three times in a circle, and the smoke of the
incense surrounded him with a triple ring, as it were.
During this time a wonderful disturbance prevailed in the cave. It
seemed as if the top were rising and the sides spreading out. The
purple curtain at the altar quivered, as if moved by hidden fingers.
The air began to move in waves, as if flocks of unseen birds were
flying through it.
The Chaldean opened the robe on his bosom, and drew forth a gold medal
covered with mysterious characters. The cave trembled, the sacred
curtain moved with violence, and little flames appeared in space at
various points.
Then the seer raised his hands and began,--
"O Heavenly Father, gracious and merciful, purify my spirit. Send down
on Thy unworthy servant a blessing, and extend Thy almighty arm
against rebellious spirits, so that I may manifest Thy power.
"Here is the sign which I touch in thy presence. Here I am--I, leaning
on the assistance of that God, the foreseeing and the fearless. I am
mighty, and summon and conjure thee. Come hither with obedience,--in
the name of Aye, Saraye, Aye, Saraye!"
At that moment from various sides were heard voices as of distant
trumpets. Near the lamp some bird flew past, then a robe of ruddy
color, afterward a man with a tail, finally a crowned cock which stood
on the table before the curtain.
The Chaldean spoke again,--
"In the name of the Almighty and Eternal--Amorul, Taneha, Rabur,
Latisten."
Distant sounds of trumpets were heard for a second time.
"In the name of the just and ever-living Eloy, Archima, Rabu, I
conjure and summon thee. In the name of the star, which is the sun, by
this its sign, by the glorious and awful name of the living God."
The trumpets sounded again, and stopped on a sudden. Before the altar
appeared a crowned vision with a sceptre in its hand, and sitting on a
lion.
"Beroes! Beroes!" cried the vision, with a restrained voice. "Why dost
thou summon me?"
"I wish my brethren of this temple to receive me with sincere hearts,
and incline their ears to the words which I bring them from brethren
in Babylon," said the Chaldean.
"Be it so," said the vision, and vanished.
The Chaldean stood as motionless as a statue, with his head thrown
back, with hands lifted upward. He stood thus half an hour in a
position impossible for an ordinary person.
During this time a part of the wall which formed one side of the cave
pushed back, and three Egyptian priests entered. At sight of the
Chaldean, who seemed to lie in the air, resting his shoulders on an
invisible support, the priests looked at one another with amazement.
The eldest said,--
"Long ago there were men like this among us, but no one has such power
in our day."
They walked around him on all sides, touched his stiffened members,
and looked with fear at his face, which was bloodless and sallow, like
that of a corpse.
"Is he dead?" asked the youngest.
After these words the body of the Chaldean, which had been bent
backward, returned to a perpendicular position. On his face appeared a
slight flush, and his upraised hands dropped. He sighed, rubbed his
eyes like a man roused from sleep, looked at the priests, and said
after a while, turning to the eldest,--
"Thou art Mefres, high priest of the temple of Ptah in Memphis. Thou
art Herhor, high priest of Amon in Thebes, the first dignity in this
state after the pharaoh. Thou," he indicated the youngest, "art
Pentuer, the second prophet in the temple of Amon, and the adviser of
Herhor."
"Thou art undoubtedly Beroes, the high priest and sage of Babylon,
whose coming was announced to us a year ago," answered Mefres.
"Thou hast told truth," said the Chaldean.
He embraced them in turn, and they inclined before him.
"I bring you great words from our common fatherland, which is Wisdom,"
said Beroes. "Be pleased to listen and act as is needful."
At a sign from Herhor, Pentuer withdrew to the rear of the cave and
brought out three armchairs of light wood for his superiors, and a low
stool for his own use. He seated himself near the lamp, and took from
his bosom a small dagger and wax-covered tablets.
When all three had occupied their chairs, the Chaldean began,--
"Mefres, the highest college of priests in Babylon addresses thee:
'The sacred order of priests in Egypt is falling. Many priests collect
money and women, and pass their lives amid pleasure. Wisdom is
neglected. Ye have no power over the world which is invisible. Ye
have no power over your own souls. Some of you have lost the highest
faith, and the future is concealed from you. Things worse than this
even happen; for many priests, feeling that their spiritual power is
exhausted, have entered the way of falsehood and deceive simple people
by cunning devices.'
"The highest college says this: 'If ye wish to return to the good
road, Beroes will remain some years with you, so as to rouse true
light on the Nile by the aid of a spark brought from the high altar of
Babylon.'"
"All is as thou sayest," answered Mefres, confused. "Remain with us
therefore a number of years, so that the youth growing up at present
may remember thy wisdom."
"And now, Herhor, to thee come words from the highest college."
Herhor inclined his head.
"Because ye neglect the great secrets, your priests have not noted
that evil years are approaching Egypt. Ye are threatened by internal
disasters from which only virtue and wisdom can save you. But the
worst is that if in the course of the coming decade ye begin war with
Assyria, she will defeat your forces. Her armies will come to the Nile
and destroy all that has existed here for ages.
"Such an ominous juncture of stars as is now weighing on Egypt
happened first during the XIV. dynasty, when the Hyksos kings captured
and plundered this country. It will come for the third time in five or
six hundred years from Assyria and the people of Paras, who dwell to
the east of Chaldea."
The priests listened in terror. Herhor was pale; the tablets fell from
Pentuer's fingers; Mefres held the amulet hanging on his breast, and
prayed while his lips were parching.
"Be on your guard then against Assyria," continued the Chaldean, "for
her hour is the present. The Assyrians are a dreadful people! They
despise labor, they live by war. They conquer, they impale on stakes
or flay living people, they destroy captured cities and lead away
their inhabitants to bondage. For them to kill savage beasts is
repose; to pierce prisoners with arrows or scoop out their eyes is
amusement. Temples they turn into ruins, the vessels of the gods they
use at their banquets, and make buffoons of priests and sages. They
adorn their walls with skins torn from living people, and their tables
with the blood-stained skulls of their enemies."
When the Chaldean ceased speaking, the worthy Mefres answered,--
"Great prophet, thou hast cast fear on our souls, and dost not
indicate a remedy. It may be true, and to a certainty is so, since
thou hast said it, that the fates for a certain time will be against
us, but how avoid this predicament? In the Nile there are dangerous
places through which no boat can pass safely; so the wisdom of the
helmsmen avoids deadly whirlpools. It is the same with misfortunes of
nations. A nation is a boat, and an epoch is the river, which at
certain periods has whirlpools. If the frail boat of a fisherman can
avoid peril, why should not millions of people escape under similar
conditions?"
"Thy words are wise," replied Beroes, "but I can answer in part only."
"Dost thou not know all that will happen?" asked Herhor.
"Ask me not touching that which I know, but which I may not disclose
at this moment. Most important in your case is to keep peace for ten
years with Assyria. Ye have power to do that. Assyria still dreads
you; she knows not the juncture of evil fates above Egypt, and desires
to wage war with northern and eastern nations who live near the
seacoast. Ye might, therefore, conclude a treaty to-day with Assyria."
"On what conditions?" asked Herhor.
"On very good ones. Assyria will yield to you the land of Israel as
far as the city of Akko, and the land of Edom to the city of Elath. So
your boundaries will be advanced ten days march toward the north
without war, and ten days toward the east also."
"But Phoenicia?" inquired Herhor.
"Approach not temptation!" exclaimed Beroes. "If the pharaoh were to
stretch his hand to-day toward Phoenicia, in a month Assyrian armies
intended for the north and east would turn southward, and a year hence
or earlier their horses would be swimming in your sacred river."
"Egypt cannot renounce influence over Phoenicia," interrupted Herhor,
with an outburst.
"Should she not renounce she would prepare her own ruin," said the
Chaldean. "Moreover, I repeat the words of the highest college: 'Tell
Egypt,' declared the brothers in Babylon, 'to cower to the earth for
ten years, like a partridge, for the falcon of evil fate is watching
her. Tell her that we Chaldeans hate Assyria more than do the
Egyptians, for we endure the burden of its rule; but still we
recommend to the Egyptians peace with that bloodthirsty nation. Ten
years is a short period; after that not only can ye regain your
ancient place, but ye can save us.'"
"That is true!" added Mefres.
"Only consider," continued the Chaldean, "should Assyria begin war
with you, she would involve also Babylon, which hates warfare. War
will exhaust our wealth and stop the labor of wisdom. Even were ye not
defeated your country would be ruined for a long period. Ye would lose
not only people, but the fertile soil, which would be buried by sand
in the absence of earth-tillers."
"We understand that," replied Herhor; "hence we have no thought of
attacking Assyria. But Phoenicia--"
"What harm will it be to you," asked Beroes, "if the Assyrian robber
squeezes the Phoenician thief? Your merchants and ours will gain by
such action. But if ye want Phoenicians, let them settle on your
shores. I am sure that the richest and most adroit of them would flee
from Assyrian conquest."
"What would happen to our fleet, if the Assyrians settled in
Phoenicia?" inquired Herhor.
"That is not your fleet, but the Phoenician," replied Beroes. "When
Tyrian and Sidonian ships are lost to you, ye will build your own, and
exercise Egyptians in navigation. If ye have mind and a practical
character, ye will drive out Phoenician commerce from western
regions."
Herhor waved his hand.
"I have told that which was commanded me," said Beroes, "and do ye
that which pleaseth you. But remember that ten evil years are
impending."
"It seems to me, holy father," said Pentuer, "that thou didst speak
of internal troubles which threaten Egypt in the future. What will
they be, if it please thee to answer thy servant?"
"Do not ask. Those are things which ye ought to know better than I,
who am a stranger. Clear sight will discover the disease, and
experience will give the remedy."
"Our working people are terribly oppressed by the great," whispered
Pentuer.
"Devotion has decreased," added Mefres.
"There are many who sigh for a foreign war," began Herhor. "I have
seen this long time that we cannot carry on one, unless ten years
hence--"
"Then will ye conclude a treaty with Assyria?" inquired the Chaldean.
"Amon, who knows my heart," answered Herhor, "knows how repugnant that
treaty is to me. It is not so long since those vile Assyrians paid us
tribute. But if thou, holy father, and the highest college say that
the fates are against us, we must make the treaty."
"We must indeed," added Mefres.
"In that case inform the priests in Babylon of your decision, and they
will arrange that King Assar shall send an embassy to Egypt. This
treaty, believe me, is of great advantage; without war ye will
increase your possessions. Indeed our priesthood have given deep
thought to this question."
"May all blessings fall on you, wealth, power, and wisdom," said
Mefres. "Yes, we must raise our priestly order, and do thou, holy
Beroes, assist us."
"There is need, above all, to assuage the suffering of the people,"
put in Pentuer.
"The priests! the people!" said Herhor, as if to himself. "Above all,
it is needful in this case to restrain those who wish war. It is true
that his holiness the pharaoh is with me, and I think I have gained
influence over the heir,--may he live through eternity! But Nitager,
to whom war is as water to a fish; but the leaders of our mercenary
forces, who only in war have significance; but our aristocracy, who
think that war will pay Phoenician debts and give them property--"
"Meanwhile earth-tillers are fainting beneath an avalanche of labor,
and public workmen are revolting against demands of overseers," added
Pentuer.
"He is always expressing his thought!" said Herhor, in meditation.
"Think thou, Pentuer, of earth-tillers and laborers; thou, Mefres, of
the priests. I know not what ye will effect, but I swear that if my
own son favored war I would bind and destroy him."
"Act in this way," said Beroes,--"let him carry on war who wishes, but
not in those regions where he can meet Assyria."
With this the session ended. The Chaldean put his scarf on his
shoulder and the veil on his face; Mefres and Herhor, one on each side
of him, and behind him Pentuer, all turned toward the altar.
When Beroes had crossed his hands on his breast, he whispered, and
again subterranean disturbance set in, and they heard as it were a
distant uproar, which astonished the assistants.
"Baralanensis, Baldachiensis, Paumachiæ," said the seer, aloud, "I
summon thee to witness our stipulations and support our wishes."
The sound of trumpets was heard so distinctly that Mefres bowed to the
earth, Herhor looked around in astonishment, while Pentuer knelt, fell
to trembling, and covered his ears.
The purple curtain at the altar shook, and its folds took such a form
as if a man were behind who wished to pass through it.
"Be witnesses," cried the Chaldean, in a changed voice, "ye powers
above and ye powers beneath! And cursed be he who observes not this
treaty or betrays its secret."
"Cursed!" repeated some voice.
"And destroyed!"
"And destroyed."
"In this visible and in that invisible life. By the ineffable name of
Jehovah, at the sound of which the earth trembles, the sea draws back,
fire quenches, and the elements of nature become evident."
A real tempest rose in the cave. The sound of trumpets was mingled
with voices, as it were, of distant thunders.
The curtain of the altar rose almost horizontally, and behind it,
amid glittering lightning, appeared wonderful creatures, half human,
half plant and animal, crowded and mingled together.
Suddenly all was silent, and Beroes rose slowly in the air, higher
than the heads of the priests there attending.
* * * * *
At eight o'clock next morning Phut of Harran returned to the
Phoenician inn "Under the Ship" to which his bags and casket stolen by
thieves had been returned safely. A few minutes later came Asarhadon's
confidential servant, whom the innkeeper took to the cellar and
examined briefly,--
"Well?"
"I was all night on the square where the temple of Set is," answered
the servant. "At ten in the evening out of the garden which lies about
four places farther than the house of the 'Green Star,' came three
priests. One of them, with black beard and hair, turned his steps
through the square toward the temple of Set. I ran after him, but mist
fell, and he vanished from my eyes. Whether he returned to the 'Green
Star' or when, I know not."
The innkeeper, when he had heard this account, struck his forehead and
muttered to himself,--
"So my man from Harran, if he dresses as a priest and goes to a
temple, must be a priest; and if he wears beard and hair, he must be a
Chaldean priest. But if he meets priests here in secret, there must be
some rogue's tricks. I will not tell the police, for I might be
caught. But I will inform some great man from Sidon, for there may be
profit in this, if not for me, for our people."
Soon the other messenger returned. Asarhadon went down to the cellar
with this one also, and heard the following narrative,--
"I stood all night in front of the 'Green Star.' The man of Harran was
there; he got drunk and raised such shouts that the policeman warned
the doorkeeper."
"Did he?" inquired the innkeeper. "The man of Harran was at the 'Green
Star' all night, and thou didst see him?"
"Not only I, but the policeman."
Asarhadon brought down the first servant, and commanded each to
repeat his story. They repeated the stories faithfully, with the
utmost conviction. It appeared then that Phut of Harran had remained
all night at the "Green Star" without leaving the place for a moment;
at the same time he went to the temple of Set, and did not return from
it.
"Oh," muttered Asarhadon, "in all this there is some very great
villany. I must inform the elders of the Phoenician society, as
quickly as possible, that this Hittite knows how to be in two places
at once. I shall also beg him to move out of my inn. I do not take
people who have two forms,--one their own, the other in supply. For a
man of that kind is a great criminal, a wizard, or a conspirator."
Asarhadon was afraid of such things; so he secured himself against
enchantment by prayers to all the gods which adorned his inn. Then he
hurried to the city, where he notified the elder of the Phoenician
society and the elder of the guild of thieves of what had happened.
Then, returning home, he summoned the decurion of police, and informed
him that Phut might be a dangerous person. Finally he asked the man of
Harran to leave the inn, to which he brought no profit, nothing but
loss and suspicion.
Phut agreed to the proposition willingly, and informed the innkeeper
that he intended to sail for Thebes that same evening.
"May thou never return!" thought the hospitable host. "May thou rot in
the quarries, or fall into the river to be eaten by crocodiles."