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 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 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 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.
"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 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 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 defence 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
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--"
"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 days 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 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 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 Rameses 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, 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 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 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 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."
"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 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."
Rameses 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
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 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, 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 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 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 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 Rameses.
"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 Rameses,--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 Rameses' 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 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! 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 to-day, and not here," implored Kama.