Panting with anger, Prince Ramses rushed up the hill, while behind him
followed Tutmosis. The wig of the exquisite had turned on his head, his
false beard had slipped down, and he carried it in his hand. In spite
of exertion he would have been pale had it not been for the layers of
rouge on his face.
At last Ramses halted at the summit. From the ravine came the outcry of
warriors and the rattle of the onrolling balistas; before the two men
stretched the immense plain of Goshen, bathed continually in sun-rays.
That did not seem land, but a golden cloud, on which the mind painted a
landscape in colors of silver, ruby, pearl, and topaz.
"Look," cried the heir to Tutmosis, stretching out his hand, "those are
to be my lands, and here is my army. Over there the loftiest edifices
are palaces of priests, and here the supreme chief of the troops is a
priest! Can anything like this be suffered?"
"It has always been so," replied Tutmosis, glancing around with
timidity.
"That is not true! I know the history of this country, which is hidden
to thee. The leaders of armies and the masters of officials were the
pharaohs alone, or at least the most energetic among them. Those rulers
did not pass their days in making offerings and prayers, but in
managing the state."
"If it is the desire of his holiness to pass his days that way?" said
Tutmosis.
"It is not my father's wish that nomarchs should govern as they please
in the capitals of provinces. Why, the governor of Ethiopia considered
himself as almost equal to the king of kings. And it cannot be my
father's wish that his army should inarch around two golden beetles
because the minister of war is a high priest."
"He is a great warrior," whispered Tutmosis, with increasing timidity.
"He a great warrior? Because he dispersed a handful of Libyan robbers
ready to flee at the mere sight of Egyptians. But see what our
neighbors are doing. Israel delays in paying tribute and pays less and
less of it. The cunning Phoenician steals a number of ships from our
fleet every year. On the east we are forced to keep up a great army
against the Hittites, while around Babylon and Nineveh there is such a
movement that it is felt throughout all Mesopotamia.
"And what is the outcome of priestly management? This, that while my
great-grandfather had a hundred thousand talents of yearly income and
one hundred and sixty thousand troops, my father has barely fifty
thousand talents and one hundred and twenty thousand troops.
"And what an army! Were it not for the Greek corps, which keeps them in
order as a dog watches sheep, the Egyptian soldiers today would obey
only priests and the pharaoh would sink to the level of a miserable
nomarch."
"Whence hast Thou learned this?" asked Tutmosis, with astonishment.
"Am I not of a priestly family? And besides, they taught me when I was
not heir to the throne. Oh, when I become pharaoh after my father, may
he live through eternity! I will put my bronze-sandaled foot on their
necks. But first of all I will seize their treasures, which have always
been bloated, but which from the time of Ramses the Great have begun to
swell out, and today are so swollen that the treasure of the pharaoh is
invisible because of them."
"Woe to me and to thee!" sighed Tutmosis. "Thou hast plans under which
this hill would bend could it hear and understand them. And where are
thy forces, thy assistance, thy warriors? Against thee the whole people
will rise, led by a class of men with mighty influence. But who is on
thy rider?"
Ramses listened and fell to thinking. At last he said,
"The army."
"A considerable part of it will follow the priests."
"The Greek corps."
"A barrel of water in the Nile."
"The officials."
"Half of them belong to the priests."
The prince shook his head sadly, and was silent.
From the summit they went down by a naked and stony slope to the
opposite base of the hill. Then Tutmosis, who had pushed ahead
somewhat, cried,
"Has a charm fallen on my eyes? Look, Ramses! Why, a second Egypt is
concealed between these cliffs!"
"That must be an estate of some priest who pays no taxes," replied the
prince, bitterly.
In the depth before their feet lay a rich valley in the form of a fork
the tines of which were hidden between cliffs. At the juncture of the
tines a number of servants' huts were visible, and the beautiful little
villa of the owner or manager. Palmtrees grew there, grapes, olives,
figs with aerial roots, cypresses, even young baobabs. In the centre
flowed a rivulet, and at the source of it, some hundreds of yards
higher up, small gardens were visible.
When they had gone down among grapevines covered with ripe clusters,
they heard a woman's voice which called, or rather sang in pensive
notes:
"Where art Thou gone from me, where art thou, hen of mine? Thou hast
fled, Thou art gone from me. I give thee drink and clean grain; what I
give is so good that slaves envy thee. Where art Thou gone, my hen wilt
Thou not answer me? Night will come down on thee, think of that; Thou
wilt not reach thy home, where all are at work for thee. Come; if Thou
come not, a falcon will fly from the desert and tear the heart out of
thee. If he come Thou wilt call in vain, as I now call in vain to thee.
Give answer, or I shall be angry and leave this place. If I leave Thou
'It go home on thy own feet."
The song came toward the two men. The songstress was a few yards from
them when Tutmosis thrust, his head from between the bushes, and said,
"Just look, Ramses, but that is a beautiful maiden!"
Instead of looking, the prince sprang into the path and stopped the
road before the songstress. She was really a beautiful maiden, with
Grecian features and a complexion like ivory.
From under the veil on her head peeped forth an immense mass of dark
hair, wound in a knot. She wore a white trailing robe which she held on
one side with her hand; under the transparent covering were maiden
breasts shaped like apples.
"Who art thou?" cried Ramses.
The threatening furrows vanished from his forehead and his eyes
flashed.
"O Jehovah! O Father!" cried she, frightened, halting motionless on the
path.
But she grew calm by degrees, and her velvety eyes resumed their
expression of mild sadness.
"Whence hast Thou come?" inquired she of Ramses, with a voice trembling
a little. "I see that Thou art a soldier, but it is not permitted
soldiers to come here."
"Why is it not permitted?"
"Because this is the land of a great lord named Sesofris."
"Ho! ho!" laughed Ramses.
"Laugh not, for Thou wilt grow pale soon. The lord Sesofris is
secretary to the lord Chaires, who carries his fan for the most worthy
nomarch of Memphis. My father has seen him and fallen on his face
before him."
"Ho! ho! ho!" repeated Ramses, laughing continually.
"Thy words are very insolent," said the maiden, frowning. "Were
kindness not looking from thy face, I should think thee a mercenary
from Greece or a bandit."
"He is not a bandit yet, but some day he may become the greatest bandit
this laud has ever suffered," said Tutmosis the exquisite, arranging
his wig,
"And Thou must be a dancer," answered the girl, grown courageous. "Oh!
I am even certain that I saw thee at the fair in Pi-Bailos, enchanting
serpents."
The two young men fell into perfect humor.
"But who art thou?" asked Ramses of the girl, taking her hand, which
she drew back.
"Be not so bold. I am Sarah, the daughter of Gideon, the manager of
this estate."
"A Jewess," said Ramses; and a shadow passed over his face.
"What harm in that? what harm in that?" cried Tutmosis.
"Dost think that Jewesses are less sweet than Egyptian girls? They are
only more modest and more difficult, which gives their love an uncommon
charm."
"So ye are pagans," said Sarah, with dignity. "Rest, if ye are tired,
pluck some grapes for yourselves, and go with God. Our servants are not
glad to see guests like you."
She wished to go, but Ramses detained her.
"Stop! Thou hast pleased me, and may not leave us in this way."
"The evil spirit has seized thee; no one in this valley would dare to
speak thus to me," said Sarah, now indignant.
"Yes; for, seest thou," interrupted Tutmosis, "this young man is an
officer of the priestly regiment of Ptah, and a secretary of the
secretary of a lord who carries his fan over the fan-carrier of the
nomarch of Habu."
"Surely he must be an officer," answered Sarah, looking with
thoughtfulness at Ramses. "Maybe he is a great lord himself?" added
she, putting her finger on her lips.
"Whoever I am, thy beauty surpasses my dignity," answered he, suddenly.
"But tell me, is it true that the Jews eat pork?"
Sarah looked at him offended; and Tutmosis added,
"How evident it is that Thou knowest not Jewesses! I tell thee that a
Jew would rather die than eat pork, which, for my part, I do not
consider as the worst."
"But do they eat cats?" insisted Ramses, pressing Sarah's hand and
looking into her eyes.
"And that is a fable, a vile fable!" exclaimed Tutmosis. "Thou mightst
have asked me about those things instead of talking nonsense. I have
had three Jewish mistresses."
"So far Thou hast told the truth, but now Thou art lying," called out
Sarah. "A Jewess would not be any man's mistress," added she, proudly.
"Even the mistress of the secretary of a lord who carries the fan for
the nomarch of Memphis?" asked Tutmosis, jeeringly.
"Even."
"Even the mistress of the lord who carries the fan?"
Sarah hesitated, but answered,
"Even."
"Then perhaps she would not become the mistress of the nomarch?"
The girl's hands dropped. With astonishment she looked in turn at the
young men; her lips quivered, and her eyes filled with tears.
"Who are ye?" inquired she, alarmed. "Ye have come down from the hills,
like travelers who wish bread and water, but ye speak to me as might
the greatest lords. Who are ye? Thy sword," said she, turning to
Ramses, "is set with emeralds, and on thy neck is a chain of such work
as even our lord, the great Sesofris, has not in his treasury."
"Better tell me if I please thee," insisted Ramses, pressing her hand
and looking into her eyes tenderly.
"Thou art beautiful, as beautiful as the angel Gabriel; but I fear
thee, for I know not who Thou art."
Then from beyond the hilltop was heard the sound of a trumpet.
"They are calling thee!" cried Tutmosis.
"And if I were as great a lord as thy Sesofris?" asked Ramses.
"Then maybe" answered Sarah.
"And if I carried the fan of the nomarch of Memphis?"
"Thou mayest be even as great as that."
Somewhere beyond the hill was heard the second trumpet.
"Come, Ramses!" insisted the frightened Tutmosis.
"But if I were heir to the throne, wouldst Thou come to me?" cried the
prince.
"O Jehovah!" exclaimed Sarah, dropping on her knees.
From various points trumpets summoned, now urgently.
"Let us run!" cried Tutmosis, in desperation. "Dost Thou not hear the
alarm in the camp?"
Ramses took the chain from his neck quickly and threw it on Sarah.
"Give this to thy father. I will buy thee from him. Be in health."
He kissed her lips passionately, and she embraced-his knees. He tore
away, ran a couple of paces, turned again, and again fondled her
beautiful face and dark hair with kisses, as if he heard not those
impatient calls to the army.
"In the name of his holiness the pharaoh, I summon thee, follow me!"
cried Tutmosis; and he seized the prince's hand.
They ran toward the trumpet-calls. Ramses tottered at moments like a
drunken man, and turned his head. At last they were climbing the
opposite hill.
"And this man," thought Tutmosis, "wants to battle with the
priesthood!"