THAT same day, in Memphis, Dagon the Phoenician, the viceroy's worthy
banker, lay on a couch under the veranda of his mansion. Around him
were fragrant potted bushes with needle-like leaves. Two black slaves
cooled the rich man with fans, and he, while playing with a young ape,
was listening to accounts read by his scribe to him.
At that moment a slave with a sword, helmet, dart, and shield (the
banker loved military dress), announced the worthy Rabsun, a Phoenician
merchant then settled in Memphis.
The guest entered, bowed profoundly, and dropped his eyelids in such
fashion that Dagon commanded the scribe and the slaves to withdraw from
the veranda. Then, as a man of foresight, he surveyed every corner, and
said to the visitor,
"We may talk."
Rabsun began without prelude,
"Dost thou know, worthiness, that Prince Hiram has come from Tyre?"
Dagon sprang up from the couch.
"May the leprosy seize him and his princeship!" shouted the banker.
"He has just reminded me," continued the guest, calmly, "that there is
a misunderstanding between him and thee."
"What misunderstanding?" cried Dagon. "That thief has robbed,
destroyed, ruined me. When I sent my ships after other Tyrian vessels
to the west for silver, the helmsmen of that thief Hiram cast fire on
them, tried to push them into a shallow. Well, my ships came back
empty, burnt, and shattered. May the fire of heaven burn him!"
concluded the raging banker.
"But if Hiram has for thee a profitable business?" inquired the guest,
stolidly.
The storm raging in Dagon's breast ceased on a sudden.
"What business can he offer me?" asked the banker, with a voice now
calmed completely.
"He will tell this himself, but first he must see thee."
"Well, let him come to me."
"He thinks that Thou shouldst go to him. He, as is known to thee, is a
member of the chief council of Tyre."
"He will perish before I go to him," cried the banker, enraged a second
time.
The guest drew an armchair to the couch, and slapped Dagon's thigh.
"Dagon," said he, "have sense."
"Why have I not sense, and why dost thou, Rabsun, not say to me
worthiness?"
"Dagon, be not foolish!" answered the guest. "If Thou wilt not go to
him and he will not come to thee, how will ye do business?"
"Thou art foolish, Rabsun!" burst out Dagon again. "Before I go to
Hiram let my hand wither; with that politeness I should lose half the
profit."
The guest thought awhile.
"Now Thou hast uttered a wise word," said he; "so I will tell thee
something. Come to me and Hiram will come also; ye can talk of that
business in my house."
Dagon bent his head, and half closing his eyes, inquired roguishly,
"Ei, Rabsun! Tell outright how much did he give thee?"
"For what?"
"For this, that I should come to thy house and transact business with
him, the mangy scoundrel."
"This business interests all Phoenicia, so I need no profit on it,"
replied the indignant Rabsun.
"That is as true as that all thy debtors will pay thee."
"May they fail to pay me if I make anything in this! Only let not
Phoenicia lose!" cried Rabsun, in anger.
They took farewell of each other.
Toward evening the worthy Dagon seated himself in a litter carried by
six slaves. He was preceded by two outrunners with staffs, and two with
torches; behind the litter went four men armed from head to foot. Not
for security, but because for a certain time Dagon loved to surround
himself with armed men, like a noble.
He came out of the litter with great importance, supported by two men;
a third carried a parasol over him. He entered Rabsun's house.
"Where is that Hiram?" inquired he, haughtily.
"He is not here?"
"How is this? Must I wait for him, then?"
"He is not in this room, but he is in the third one talking with my
wife," answered the host. "He is making a visit to my wife."
"I will not go there!" said the banker, sitting down on a couch.
"Thou wilt go to the next chamber, and he will enter it at the same
time with thee."
After a short resistance Dagon yielded, and a moment later, at a sign
from the master of the house, he entered the second chamber. At the
same time from distant apartments appeared a man, not of tall stature,
with gray beard, dressed in a gold-embroidered toga, and with a gold
band on his head.
"This is," said the host, standing in the middle of the room, "his
grace Prince Hiram, a member of the supreme council of Tyre. This is
the worthy Dagon, banker of the heir to the throne, and viceroy of
Lower Egypt."
The two dignitaries bowed, each with his hand on his breast, and both
sat down on stools in the middle of the chamber. Hiram pushed aside his
toga somewhat in order to show the great gold medal on his breast; in
answer to this Dagon began to toy with a large gold chain which he had
received from Prince Ramses.
"I, Hiram," said the old man, "congratulate thee, Lord Dagon. I wish
thee much property, and success in thy business."
"I, Dagon, congratulate thee, Lord Hiram, and I wish thee the same as
Thou wishest me."
"Dost Thou desire to dispute?" interrupted Hiram, irritated.
"How dispute? Rabsun, say if I am disputing."
"Better talk of business, your worthinesses," replied the host.
After a moment of thought Hiram proceeded,
"Thy friends in Tyre congratulate thee greatly through me."
"Is that all they have sent me?" asked Dagon, in reviling accents.
"What didst Thou wish?" inquired Hiram, raising his voice.
"Quiet! Concord!" put in the host.
Hiram sighed a number of times deeply, and said,
"It is true that we need concord. Evil times are approaching
Phoenicia."
"Has the sea flooded Tyre and Sidon?" asked Dagon, smiling.
Hiram spat, and inquired,
"Why art Thou so ill-tempered today?"
"I am always ill-tempered when men do not call me worthiness."
"But why dost Thou not say grace to me? I am a prince."
"Perhaps in Phoenicia. But in Assyria Thou wouldst wait three days in
the forecourt of any satrap for an audience, and when he deigned to
receive thee Thou wouldst be lying on thy belly, like any Phoenician
merchant."
"But what couldst Thou do in presence of a wild man who would perhaps
impale thee on a stake?" inquired Hiram.
"What I would do, I know not. But in Egypt I sit on one sofa with the
heir to the throne, who today is viceroy."
"Concord, worthiness! Concord, grace!" said the host.
"Concord! concord, because this man is a common Phoenician merchant,
and is unwilling to render me respect," cried out Dagon.
"I have a hundred ships!" shouted Hiram.
"And his holiness has twenty thousand cities, towns, and villages."
"Your worthinesses are destroying this business and all Phoenicia,"
said Rabsun, with a voice which was loud now.
Hiram balled his fists, but was silent.
"Thou must confess, worthiness," said he, after a while, "that of those
twenty thousand towns his holiness owns few in reality."
"Thou wishest to say, grace," answered Dagon, "that seven thousand
belong to the temples, and seven thousand to great lords. Still six
thousand belong clearly to his holiness."
"Not altogether! For when Thou takest, worthiness, about three thousand
which are mortgaged to the priests, and two thousand which are rented
to our Phoenicians."
"Thou speakest the truth, grace," said Dagon. "But there remain always
to his holiness about two thousand very rich cities."
"Has Typhon possessed thee?" roared Rabsun, in his turn. "Wilt Thou go
now to counting the cities of the pharaoh, may he."
"Pst!" whispered Dagon, springing up.
"When misfortune is hanging over Phoenicia" finished Rabsun.
"Let me but know what the misfortune is," interrupted Dagon.
"Then let Hiram speak and Thou wilt know."
"Let him speak."
"Dost Thou know, worthiness, what happened in the inn 'Under the Ship'
to our brother Asarhadon?" began Hiram.
"I have no brothers among innkeepers," interrupted Dagon, sneeringly.
"Be silent!" screamed Rabsun, in anger; and he grasped the hilt of his
dagger. "Thou art as dull as a dog barking in sleep."
"Why is he angry, that that dealer in bones?" inquired Dagon; and he
reached for his knife also.
"Quiet! Concord!" said the gray-headed prince; and he dropped his lean
hand to his girdle.
For a while the nostrils of all three men were quivering and their eyes
flashing. At last Hiram, who calmed himself first, began again, as if
nothing had happened.
"A couple of months ago, in Asarhadon's inn, lodged a certain Phut from
the city of Harran."
"He had to receive five talents from some priest," interrupted Dagon.
"What further?" asked Hiram.
"Nothing. He found favor with a certain priestess, and at her advice
went to seek his debtor in Thebes."
"Thou hast the mind of a child and the talkativeness of a woman," said
Hiram. "This Harran man is not from Harran at all. He is a Chaldean,
and his name is not Phut, but Beroes."
"Beroes? Beroes?" repeated Dagon, trying to remember. "I have heard
that name in some place."
"Thou hast heard it!" repeated Hiram, with contempt. "Beroes is the
wisest priest in Babylon, the counselor of Assyrian princes and of the
king himself."
"Let him be counselor; if he is not the pharaoh, what do I care?" said
the banker.
Rabsun rose from his chair, and threatening Dagon with his fist under
the nose, cried,
"Thou wild boar, fatted on the pharaoh's swill, Phoenicia concerns thee
as much as Egypt concerns me. Thou wouldst sell thy country for a
drachma hadst Thou the chance, leprous cur that Thou art!"
Dagon grew pale and answered with a calm voice,
"What is that huckster saying? In Tyre my sons are learning navigation;
in Sidon lives my daughter with her husband. I have lent half my
property to the supreme council, though I do not receive even ten per
cent for it. And this huckster says that Phoenicia does not concern
me!"
"Rabsun, listen to me," added he, after a while. "I wish thy wife and
children and the shades of thy fathers to be as much thought of by thee
as each Phoenician ship is by me, or each stone of Tyre and Sidon, or
even of Zarpath and Achsibu."
"Dagon, tell truth," put in Hiram.
"I not care for Phoenicia!" continued the banker, growing excited. "How
many Phoenicians have I brought here to make property, and what do I
gain from having done so! I not care? Hiram ruined two ships of mine
and deprived me of great profit; still, when Phoenicia is in question,
I sit in one room with him."
"For Thou didst think to talk with him of cheating some one," said
Rabsun.
"As much as Thou didst think of dying, fool!" retorted Dagon. "Am I a
child? do I not understand that when Hiram comes to Memphis he need not
come for traffic? O Thou Rabsun! Thou shouldst clean my stables a
couple of years."
"Enough of this!" cried Hiram, striking the table with his fist.
"We never shall finish with this Chaldean priest," muttered Rabsun,
with as much calmness as if he had not been insulted a moment before.
Hiram coughed, and said,
"That man has a house and land really in Harran, and he is called Phut
there. He got letters from Hittite merchants to merchants in Sidon, so
our caravans took him for the journey. He speaks Phoenician well, he
pays liberally. He made no demands in particular; so our people came to
like him, even much.
"But," continued Hiram, stroking his beard, "when a lion covers himself
with an ox skin, even a little of his tail will stick out. This Phut
was wonderfully wise and self-confident; so the chief of the caravan
examined his effects in secret, and found nothing save a medal of the
goddess Astaroth. This medal pricked the heart of the leader of the
caravan: 'How could a Hittite have a Phoenician medal?'
"So when they came to Sidon he reported straightway to the elders, and
thenceforth our secret police kept this Phut in view.
"Meanwhile he is such a sage that when he had remained some days all
came to like him. He prayed and offered sacrifices to the goddess
Astaroth, paid in gold, borrowed no money, associated only with
Phoenicians. And he so befogged all that watchfulness touching him was
weakened, and he went in peace to Memphis.
"In this place again our elders began to watch him, but discovered
nothing; they divined simply that he must be a great lord, not a simple
man of Harran. But Asarhadon discovered by chance, and did not even
discover, he only came on traces, that this pretended Phut passed a
whole night in the ancient temple of Set, which here is greatly
venerated.
"Only high priests enter it for important counsels," interrupted Dagon.
"And that alone would mean nothing," said Hiram. "But one of our
merchants returned a month ago from Babylon with wonderful tidings. In
return for a great present a certain attendant of the Satrap of Babylon
informed him that misfortune was threatening Phoenicia.
"Assyria will take you," said the attendant, "and Egypt will take
Israel. On that business the Chaldean high priest Beroes has gone to
the priests of Thebes, and with them he will make a treaty."
"Ye must know," continued Hiram, "that Chaldean priests consider the
priests in Egypt as their brothers, and that Beroes enjoys great esteem
in the Court of King Assar, so reports concerning that treaty may be
very truthful."
"Why does Assyria want Phoenicia?" inquired Dagon, as he bit his
finger-nails.
"Why does a thief want another man's granary?" replied Hiram.
"What good is a treaty made by Beroes with Egyptian priests?" put in
Rabsun, thinking deeply.
"Thou art dull!" answered Dagon. "Pharaoh does nothing except what the
priests ordain."
"There will be a treaty with the pharaoh, never fear!" interrupted
Hiram. "We know to a certainty in Tyre that the Assyrian ambassador
Sargon is coming to Egypt with gifts and with a great retinue. He
pretends that it is to see Egypt and agree with 'ministers, not to
inscribe in Egyptian acts that Assyria pays tribute to the pharaohs.
But in fact he is coming to conclude a treaty about dividing the
countries which lie between our sea and the Euphrates River."
"May the earth swallow them!" imprecated Rabsun.
"What dost Thou think of this Dagon?" inquired Hiram.
"But what would ye do if Assar attacked you really?"
Hiram shook his head with anger.
"What? We should go on board of ships with our families and treasures
and leave to those dogs the ruins of cities and the rotting corpses of
slaves. Do we not know greater and more beautiful countries than
Phoenicia, where we can begin a new and richer fatherland?"
"May the gods guard us from such a thing," said Dagon.
"This is just the question, to save the present Phoenicia from
destruction," said Hiram. "And thou, Dagon, art able to do much in this
matter."
"What can I do?"
"Thou mayst learn from the priests whether Beroes met them, and whether
he and they made an agreement."
"A terribly difficult thing," whispered Dagon. "But I may find a priest
who will tell me."
"Thou canst prevent at the court of the pharaoh a treaty with Sargon,"
continued Hiram.
"It is very difficult. I could not do that unassisted."
"I will be with thee, and Phoenicia will find the gold. A tax is in
course of collection at present."
"I have given two talents!" whispered Rabsun.
"I will give ten," added Dagon. "But what shall I get for my labor?"
"What? Well, ten ships," answered Hiram.
"And how much wilt Thou gain?" inquired Dagon.
"Is ten not enough? Thou wilt get fifteen."
"I ask, what wilt Thou get?" insisted Dagon.
"We will give twenty ships. Does that suffice thee?"
"Let it be so. But will ye show my ships the road to the country of
silver?"
"We will show it."
"And the place where ye get tin? Well."
"And the place where amber is found?" continued Dagon.
"May Thou perish at once!" answered the gracious Prince Hiram,
extending his hand. "But Thou wilt not keep up a malignant heart toward
me because of those two little flat boats?"
Dagon sighed.
"I will work to forget. But what a property I should have now if Thou
hadst not driven them off at that time!"
"Enough!" interrupted Rabsun; "talk of Phoenicia."
"Through whom wilt Thou learn of Beroes and the treaty?" asked Hiram of
Dagon.
"Let that drop. It is dangerous to speak of it, for priests will be
involved in the matter."
"And through whom couldst Thou ruin the treaty?"
"I think I think that perhaps through the heir to the throne. I have
many notes of his."
Hiram raised his hand, and replied,
"The heir very well, for he will be pharaoh, perhaps even soon."
"Pst!" interrupted Dagon, striking the table with his fist. "May Thou
lose speech for such language!"
"Here is a wild boar for thee!" cried Rabsun, threatening the banker's
nose.
"And Thou art a dull huckster," answered Dagon, with a reviling laugh.
"Thou, Rabsun, shouldst sell dried fish and water on the streets, but
not mix up in questions between states. An ox hoof rubbed in Egyptian
mud has more sense than thou, though Thou 'art living five years in the
capital of light! Oh that pigs might devour thee!"
"Quiet! quiet!" called Hiram. "Ye do not let me finish."
"Speak, for Thou art wise and my heart understands thee," said Rabsun.
"If thou, Dagon, hast influence over the heir, that is well," continued
Hiram. "For if the heir wishes to have a treaty with Assyria there will
be a treaty, and besides one written with our blood on our own skins.
But if the heir wishes war with Assyria, he will make war, though the
priests were to summon all the gods against him."
H
"Pst!" interrupted Dagon. "If the priests wish greatly, there will be a
treaty. But perhaps they will not wish."
"Therefore, Dagon, we must have all the military leaders with us," said
Hiram.
"We can."
"And the nomarchs."
"We can have them too."
"And the heir," continued Hiram.
"But if Thou alone urge him to war with Assyria, that is nothing. A
man, like a harp, has many strings, and to play on them fingers are
needed, while thou, Dagon, art only one finger."
"But I cannot tear myself into ten parts."
"Thou mayst be like one hand which has five fingers. Thou must so act
that no one may suspect that Thou art for war, but every cook in the
heir's kitchen must want war, every barber of his must want war, all
the bath men, and litter-bearers, scribes, officers, charioteers must
want war with Assyria; the heir should hear war from morning till
night, and even when he is sleeping."
"That will be done."
"But dost Thou know his mistresses?" asked Hiram.
Dagon waved his hand.
"Stupid girls!" said he. "They think only about dressing, painting, and
perfuming themselves; but whence these perfumes come, and who brings
them to Egypt, they know not."
"We must give him a favorite who will know."
"Where shall we find her?" asked Dagon. "Ah, I have it!" cried he,
stroking his forehead. "Dost Thou know Kama, the priestess of
Astaroth?"
"What?" interrupted Rabsun, astounded. "The priestess of the holy
goddess Astaroth to be a favorite of an Egyptian?"
"Thou wouldst prefer that she were thine," sneered Dagon. "She can even
cease to be high priestess when it is necessary to bring her near the
court."
"Thou speakest truth," said Hiram.
"But that is sacrilege!" said Rabsun, indignantly.
"And the priestess who commits it is to die," said the gray-haired
Hiram.
"If only that Jewess, Sarah, does not hinder," added Dagon, after a
moment of silence. "She is waiting for a child to which the prince is
attached already. If a son is born, all our plans may be thwarted."
"We shall have money for Sarah too," added Hiram.
"She will take nothing!" burst out Dagon. "That pitiful creature has
refused gold and a precious goblet, which I carried to her."
"She did, for she thought that Thou hadst the wish to deceive her,"
remarked Rabsun.
Hiram nodded.
"There is no cause for trouble," said he. "Where gold has not power,
then the father, the mother, or the mistress may have it. And if the
mistress is powerless, there is still."
"The knife," hissed Rabsun.
"Poison," whispered Dagon.
"A knife is a very rude weapon," concluded Hiram.
He stroked his beard, thought awhile; at last he rose, took from his
bosom a purple ribbon on which were fastened three golden amulets with
a portrait of the goddess Astaroth. He drew from his girdle a knife,
cut the ribbon into three parts, and gave two of these with the amulets
to Dagon and Rabsun.
Then all three went to the middle of the room to the corner where stood
a winged statue of the goddess; they put their hands on the statue, and
Hiram repeated in a low voice, but clearly,
"To thee, Mother of Life, we swear faithfully to observe our
agreements, and not to rest till the sacred places be secure from
enemies, may they be destroyed by hunger, fire, and pestilence.
"And should one of us fail in his obligations, or betray a secret, may
all calamities and disgrace fall on him! May hunger twist his entrails,
and sleep flee from his bloodshot eyes! May the hand of the man wither
who hastens to him with rescue and pities him in his misery! May the
bread on his table turn into rottenness, and the wine into stinking
juice! May his children die out, and his house be filled with bastards
who will spit on him and expel him! May he die groaning through many
days in loneliness, and may neither earth nor water receive his vile
carcass, may no fire burn it, no wild beasts devour it!"
"Thus let it be!"
After this terrible oath, which Hiram began, and the second half of
which all shouted forth in voices trembling from rage, the three
panting Phoenicians rested. After that Rabsun conducted them to a feast
where with wine, music, and dancers they forgot for a time the work
awaiting them.