BY advice of astrologers the headquarters were to move from Pi-Bast on
the seventh day of Hator. For that day was "good, good, good." Gods in
heaven and men on earth rejoiced at the victory of Ra over his enemies;
whoever came into the world on that day was destined to die at an
advanced age surrounded by reverence.
That was a favorable day for pregnant women, and people trading in
woven stuffs, but for toads and mice it was evil.
From the moment that he was appointed commander Ramses rushed to work
feverishly. He received each regiment as it arrived; he inspected its
weapons, its train, and its clothing. He greeted the recruits, and
encouraged them to diligent exercise at drilling, to the destruction of
their enemies and the glory of the pharaoh. He presided at every
military council, he was present at the examination of every spy, and
in proportion as tidings were brought in, he indicated on the map with
his own hand the movement of Egyptian armies and the positions of the
enemy.
He passed so swiftly from place to place that they looked for him
everywhere, and still he swooped on them suddenly like a falcon. In the
morning he was on the south of Pi-Bast and verified the list of
provisions; an hour later he was north of the city, and discovered that
a hundred and fifty men were lacking in the left regiment. In the
evening he overtook the advance guard, was at the crossing of an arm of
the Nile, and passed in review two hundred war chariots.
The holy Mentezufis, who, as a representative of Herhor, understood the
military art well, was overcome by astonishment.
"Ye know," said he to Sem and Mefres, "that I do not like the heir to
the throne, for I have discovered his perversity and malice. But Osiris
be my witness that that young man is a born leader. I will tell you a
thing unparalleled: We shall concentrate our forces on the border three
or four days earlier than it was possible to expect. The Libyans have
lost the war already, though they have not heard the whistle of our
arrows."
"So much the worse is such a pharaoh for us," interposed Mefres, with
the stubbornness peculiar to old men.
Toward evening the sixth of Hator, Prince Ramses bathed and informed
his staff that they would march on the morrow two hours before sunrise.
"And now I wish to sleep," said he.
To wish for sleep was easier than to get it. The whole city was
swarming with warriors; at the palace of the prince a regiment had
encamped which had no thought of rest, but was eating, drinking, and
singing.
The prince went to the remotest chamber, but even there he could not
undress. Every few minutes some adjutant flew in with a report of no
moment, or for an order in questions which could have been settled on
the spot by the commander of a regiment. Spies were led in who brought
no new information; great lords with small followings were announced;
these wished to offer their services to the prince as volunteers.
Phoenician merchants broke in on him; these wanted contracts for the
army, or were contractors who complained of the extortion of generals.
Even soothsayers and astrologers were not lacking, who in the last
hours before marching wished to draw his horoscope for the viceroy;
there were even practicers of the black art who wished to sell
unfailing amulets against missiles.
These people simply broke into the prince's chamber: each one of them
judged that the fate of the expedition was in his hands, and that in
such a case every etiquette should vanish.
The heir satisfied all applicants patiently. But when behind an
astrologer one of his own women pushed into the room with complaint
that Ramses did not love her, since he had not taken farewell, and when
a quarter of an hour later the weeping of another was heard outside the
window, the heir could endure no longer; he summoned Tutmosis.
"Sit in this room," said he, "and if Thou wish, console the women of my
household. I will hide somewhere in the garden; if not, I shall not
sleep and to-morrow I shall look like a hen just pulled out of a
cistern."
"Where am I to seek thee in case of need?" asked Tutmosis.
"Oho! ho!" laughed the heir. "Seek me nowhere. I shall appear of myself
when the trumpet is sounded."
And throwing over his shoulders a long mantle with a hood, he slipped
out to the garden. Through the garden were prowling soldiers, kitchen
boys, and other servants. In the whole space about the palace order had
disappeared, as usual before an expedition. Noting this, Ramses turned
to the densest part of the park, found a little arbor formed of grape-
vines, and threw himself on a bench satisfied.
"Here neither priests nor women will find me," muttered the viceroy.
He fell asleep immediately, and slept like a stone.
Kama had felt ill for some days. To her irritation was joined some
peculiar weakness and pain in the joints. Then there was an itching of
her face, but especially of her forehead above the eyebrows.
These minute symptoms seemed to her so alarming that she ceased to
dread assassination, but straightway she sat down before a mirror, and
told her servants to withdraw and leave her. At such times she thought
neither of Ramses nor the hated Sarah; all her attention was fixed on
those spots which an untrained eye would not have even noticed.
"A spot yes, these are spots," whispered she, full of terror. "Two,
three O Astaroth, but Thou wilt not punish thy priestess in this way!
Death would be better But again what folly! If I rub my forehead, the
spots will be redder. Evidently something has bitten me, or I have used
impure oil in anointing. I will wash, and the spots will be gone by to-
morrow."
The morrow came, but the spots had not vanished.
Kama called a servant.
"Listen!" said she. "Look at me!"
But as she spoke she sat down in a less lighted part of the chamber.
"Listen and look!" said she, in a stifled voice. "Dost Thou see spots
on my face? But come no nearer."
"I see nothing," answered the serving woman.
"Neither under my left eye nor on my brows?" asked she, with growing
irritation.
"Let the lady be pleased graciously to sit with the side of her face to
the light," said the woman.
Of course that request enraged Kama.
"Away, wretch," cried she; "show thyself no more to me!"
When the serving-woman fled, her mistress rushed feverishly to the
dressing-table, opened two little toilet jars, and with a brush painted
her face rose-color.
Toward evening, feeling continual pain in her joints and fear in her
heart, which was worse than pain, she commanded to call a physician.
When they told her that the physician had come, she looked at the
mirror, and was seized by a new attack, as it were of insanity. She
threw the mirror to the pavement, and cried out with weeping that she
did not need the physician.
During the sixth of Hator she ate nothing all day and would see no
person.
When the slave woman brought in a light after sun-down,
Kama lay on the bed, after she had wound herself in a shawl. She
ordered the slave to go out as quickly as possible; then she sat in an
armchair at a distance from the lamp, and passed some hours in a half-
waking stupor.
"There are no spots," said she, "and if there are, they are not spots
of that kind! They are not leprosy. O ye gods!" cried she, throwing
herself on the pavement. "It cannot be that I O ye gods, save me! I
will go back to the temple; I will do life-long penance I have no
spots. I have been rubbing my skin for some days; that is why it is
red. Again, how could I have it; has any one ever heard that a
priestess and a woman of the heir to the throne could have leprosy? O
ye gods! that never has happened since the world began. Only fishermen,
prisoners, and vile Jews Oh, that low Jewess! Heavenly powers, oh, send
down leprosy to her!"
At that moment some shadow passed by the window on the first story.
Then a rustle was heard, and from the door to the middle of the room
sprang in Lykon.
Kama was amazed. She seized her head suddenly, and in her eyes immense
terror was depicted.
"Lykon!" whispered she. "Thou here, Lykon? Be off! They are searching
for thee."
"I know," answered the Greek, with a jeering laugh. "All the
Phoenicians are hunting me, and all the police of his holiness. Still I
am with thee, and I have been in thy lord's chamber."
"Wert Thou with the prince?"
"Yes; in his own bedchamber. And I should have left a dagger in his
breast if the evil spirits had not saved him. Evidently he went to some
other woman, not to thee."
"What dost Thou wish here?" whispered Kama. "Flee!"
"But with thee. On the street a chariot is ready for us; on this we
shall ride to the Nile, and there my boat is in waiting."
"Thou hast gone mad! But the city and the streets are filled with
warriors."
"For that very reason I was able to enter this palace, and we can
escape very easily. Collect all thy treasures. I shall be back here
immediately and take thee."
"Whither art Thou going?"
"I am seeking thy lord. I shall not go without leaving him a memento."
"Thou art mad!"
"Be silent!" interrupted Lykon, pale from anger. "Thou wishest yet to
defend him."
The Phoenician woman tottered; she clinched her fists, and an evil
light flashed in her eyes.
"But if Thou canst not find him?"
"Then I will kill one of his sleeping warriors. I will set fire to the
palace. Do I know what I shall do? But I will not go without leaving a
memento."
The great eyes of the Phoenician woman had such a ghastly look that the
Greek was astonished.
"What is the matter with thee?" asked Lykon.
"Nothing; listen. Thou hast never been so like the prince as today.
Hence, if Thou wish to do a good thing."
She put her face to his ear and whispered.
The Greek listened in amazement.
"Woman," said he, "Hades speaks through thee."
"Yes; suspicion will be turned on him."
"That is better than a dagger," said Lykon, laughing. "Never could I
have come on that idea. Perhaps both would be better?"
"No! Let her live. This will be my vengeance."
"What a wicked soul!" whispered Lykon. "But Thou pleasest me. We will
pay them both in kingly fashion."
He withdrew to the window and vanished. Kama leaned out after him, and
forgetting every other thing, listened in a fever.
Perhaps a quarter of an hour after the departure of Lykon, at the side
of the fig grove rose the piercing shriek of a woman. It was repeated a
couple of times, and then ceased.
Instead of the expected delight, terror seized Kama. She fell on her
knees, and gazed into the dark garden with a wandering stare.
Below was heard almost noiseless running; there was a squeak at the
pillar in the antechamber, and in the window appeared Lykon again in a
dark mantle. He was panting with violence, and his hands trembled.
"Where are thy jewels?" whispered he.
"Let me alone," replied she.
The Greek seized her by the shoulder.
"Wretch! Dost Thou not understand that before sunrise they will
imprison thee, and will strangle thee a couple of days later?"
"I am sick."
"Where are thy jewels?"
"Under the bed."
Lykon went to her bedchamber; with the light of a lamp he drew out a
heavy casket, threw a mantle over Kama, and pulled her by the arm.
"Make ready! Where are the doors through which he comes to thee that
lord of thine?"
"Leave me!"
The Greek bent to her, and whispered,
"Aha! Dost think that I will leave thee here? I care as much for thee
now as I do for a dog that has lost sense of smell. But Thou must go
with me. Let that lord of thine know that there is a man better than
he. He stole a priestess from Astaroth, I take his mistress from the
heir of Egypt."
"I tell thee that I am sick."
The Greek drew out a slender blade, and put the point of it to her
throat.
Kama trembled, and whispered,
"I go."
They passed through the secret door to the garden. From the direction
of the palace came the noise of warriors kindling fires. Here and there
among the trees were lights; from time to time some one in the service
of the heir passed the pair. At the gate the guard stopped them,
"Who are ye?"
"Thebes," answered Lykon.
Then they went out to the street unhindered, and vanished in the alleys
of the foreign quarter.
Two hours before daybreak drums and trumpets sounded through the city.
Tutmosis was lying sunk in deep sleep, when Prince Ramses pulled his
mantle, and called,
"Rise, watchful leader. The regiments are marching!"
Tutmosis sat up in bed and rubbed his drowsy eyes.
"Ah, is it thou, lord?" asked he, yawning. "Hast Thou slept?"
"As never before," replied Ramses.
"But I should like to sleep more."
Both bathed, put on their jackets and light mail, then mounted horses,
which were tearing away from the equerries.
Soon the heir, with a small suite, left the city, and on the way passed
slowly moving columns. The Nile had overflowed widely, and the prince
wished to be present at the passage of fords and canals.
At sunrise the last army chariot was far outside the city, and the
worthy nomarch of Pi-Bast said to his servants,
"I am going to sleep now, and woe to the man who rouses me before the
hour of our feast in the evening! Even the divine sun rests when each
day is past, while I have not lain down since the first day of Hator."
Before he had finished praising his own watchfulness, a police officer
entered, and begged for a special hearing in a case of immense
importance.
"Would that the earth had swallowed thee!" muttered the worthy nomarch.
But still he commanded to summon the officer, and inquired with ill-
humor,
"Is it not possible to wait a few hours? The Nile will not run away, as
it seems to me."
"A terrible misfortune has happened," replied the officer. "The son of
the erpatr is killed."
"What? Who?" cried the nomarch.
"The son of the Jewess Sarah."
"Who killed him? When?"
"Last night."
"But who could do this?"
The officer bent his head and spread his arms.
"I asked who killed him?" repeated the nomarch, more astonished than
angry.
"Be pleased, lord, thyself to investigate. My lips will not utter what
my ears have heard."
The astonishment of the nomarch increased. He gave command to lead in
Sarah's servants, and sent for Mefres, the high priest. Mentezufis, as
representative of the minister of war, had gone with the viceroy.
The astonished Mefres came. The nomarch told of the murder of the
child, and said that the police official dared not give explanations.
"But are there witnesses?" inquired the high priest.
"We are waiting for thy commands, holy father."
They brought in Sarah's doorkeeper.
"Hast Thou heard," inquired the nomarch, "that the child of thy
mistress is killed?"
The man fell to the pavement, and answered,
"I have even seen the worthy remains broken against the wall, and I
detained our lady when she ran out to the garden, screaming."
"When did this happen?"
"At midnight. Immediately after the most worthy heir came to our lady,"
answered the watch.
"How is this? Did the prince visit thy lady last night?" inquired
Mefres.
"Thou hast said it, great prophet."
"This is wonderful!" whispered Mefres to the nomarch.
The second witness was Sarah's cook, the third her waiting woman. Both
declared that after midnight the prince had entered Sarah's chamber,
stayed there awhile, then run out quickly to the garden, and soon after
him appeared Lady Sarah, screaming terribly.
"But the prince remained all night in his chamber; he did not leave the
palace," said the nomarch.
The police-officer shook his head, and declared that some of the palace
servants were waiting in the antechamber.
They were summoned. Mefres questioned them, and it appeared that the
heir had not slept in the palace. He had left his chamber before
midnight, and gone to the garden; he returned when the first trumpet
sounded.
When the witnesses had been led out, and the two dignitaries were
alone, the nomarch threw himself on the pavement, and declared to
Mefres that he was grievously ill, and would rather lose his life than
carry on investigations. The high priest was very pale and excited; but
he replied that they must clear up a question of murder, and he
commanded the nomarch in the name of the pharaoh-to go with him to
Sarah's dwelling. It was not far to the garden of the heir, and the two
dignitaries soon found themselves at the place where the crime had been
committed.
When they entered the chamber on the first story, they saw Sarah
kneeling at the cradle in such a posture as if nursing the child. On
the wall and the pavement were blood spots.
The nomarch grew so weak that he was forced to sit down, but Mefres was
calm. He approached Sarah, touched her arm, and said,
"We come hither, lady, in the name of his holiness."
Sarah sprang to her feet suddenly, and, looking at Mefres, cried in a
terrible voice,
"A curse on you! Ye wished to have a Jew king, and here is the king for
you. Oh, why did I, unfortunate, listen to your traitorous advice!"
She dropped, and fell again at the side of the cradle, groaning,
"My son my little Seti! How beautiful he was, so cunning; just
stretching out his little hands to me! O Jehovah! give him back to me,
for that is in Thy power. O gods of Egypt, Osiris, Horus, Isis, O Isis,
for Thou too wert a mother! It cannot be that in the heavens there is
not one who will listen to my prayer. Such a dear, little child! A
hyena would have spared him."
The high priest took her by the arms, and put her on her feet. The
police and the servants filled the room.
"Sarah," said the high priest, "in the name of his holiness, the lord
of Egypt, I summon thee, and command thee to answer, Who killed thy
son?"
She gazed straight ahead, like a maniac, and rubbed her forehead.
The nomarch gave her water and wine, and one of the women present
sprinkled her with vinegar.
"In the name of his holiness," repeated Mefres, "I command thee, Sarah,
to tell the name of the murderer."
Those present withdrew toward the door; the nomarch with despairing
action closed both his ears.
"Who killed?" said Sarah, in a panting voice, sinking her gaze in the
face of Mefres. "Who killed, dost Thou ask? I know you, ye priests! I
know your justice."
"Then who killed?" insisted Mefres.
"I!" cried Sarah, in an unearthly voice. "I killed my child, because ye
made him a Jew."
"That is false!" hissed the high priest.
"I, I!" repeated Sarah. "Hei, Ye people who see me and hear me," she
turned to the witnesses, "ye know that I killed him I I I!" cried she,
beating her breast.
At such an explicit accusation of herself the nomarch recovered, and
looked with compassion on Sarah; the women sobbed, the doorkeeper wiped
away tears. But the holy Mefres closed his blue lips firmly. At last he
said, with emphatic voice, while looking at the police official,
"Servants of his holiness, I surrender this woman, whom ye are to
conduct to the edifice of justice."
"But my son with me!" interrupted Sarah, rushing to the cradle.
"With thee, with thee, poor woman," said the nomarch; and he covered
his face.
The dignitaries went out of the chamber. The police officer had a
litter brought, and with marks of the highest respect conducted Sarah
down to it. The unfortunate woman seized a blood-stained bundle from
the cradle, and took a seat, without resistance, in the litter.
All the servants went after her to the chamber of justice.
When Mefres, with the nomarch, was passing through the garden, the
nomarch said,
"I have compassion on that woman."
"She will be punished properly for lying," answered the high priest.
"Dost Thou think so, worthiness?"
"I am certain that the gods will discover and punish the real
murderer."
At the garden gate the steward of Kama's villa stood in the road before
them.
"The Phoenician woman is gone. She disappeared last night."
"A new misfortune," whispered the nomarch.
"Have no fear," said Mefres; "she followed the prince."
From these answers the worthy nomarch saw that Mefres hated the prince,
and his heart sank in him. If they proved that Ramses had killed his
own son, the heir would never ascend the throne of his fathers, and the
heavy yoke of the priesthood would weigh down still more mightily on
Egypt.
The sadness of the nomarch increased when they told him in the evening
that two physicians of the temple of Hator, when looking at the corpse
of the infant, had expressed the opinion that only a man could have
committed the murder. Some man, said they, seized with his right hand
the feet of the little boy, and broke his skull against the wall of the
building. Sarah's hand could not clasp both legs, on which, moreover,
were traces of large fingers.
After this explanation Mefres, in company with the high priest Sem,
went to Sarah in the prison, and implored her by all the gods of Egypt
and of foreign lands to declare that she was not guilty of the death of
the child, and to describe the person of the murderer.
"We will believe thy word," said Mefres, "and Thou wilt be free
immediately."
But Sarah, instead of being moved by this proof of friendliness, fell
into anger.
"Jackals," cried she, "two victims are not enough; ye want still more.
I, unfortunate woman, did this; I, for who else would be so abject as
to kill a child a little child that had never harmed any one?"
"But dost Thou know, stubborn woman, what threatens thee?" asked the
holy Mefres. "Thou wilt hold the remains of thy child for three days in
thy arms, and then be fifteen years in prison."
"Only three days?" repeated Sarah. "But I would never part with my
little Seti; and not only to prison, but to the grave will I go with
him, and my lord will command to bury us together."
When the high priest left Sarah, the most pious Sem said,
"I have seen mothers who killed their own children, and I have judged
them; but none were like her."
"For she did not kill her child," answered Mefres, angrily.
"Who, then?"
"He whom the servants saw when he rushed into Sarah's house and fled a
moment later; he who, when going against the enemy, took with him the
priestess Kama, who denied the altar; he," concluded Mefres, excitedly,
"who hunted Sarah out of the house, and made her a slave because her
son had been made a Jew."
"Thy words are terrible," answered Sem, in alarm.
"The criminal is still worse, and, in spite of that stupid woman's
stubbornness, he will be discovered."
But the holy man did not suppose that his prophecy would be
accomplished so quickly.
And it was accomplished in the following manner: Prince Ramses, when
moving from Pi-Bast with the army, had not left the palace when the
chief of the police learned of the murder of Sarah's child, and the
flight of Kama, and this, too, that Sarah's servants saw the prince
entering her house in the night time. The chief of police was a very
keen person; he pondered over this question, Who could have committed
the crime? and instead of inquiring on the spot, he hastened to pursue
the guilty parties outside the city, and forewarned Hiram of what had
happened.
While Mefres was trying to extort a confession from Sarah, the most
active agents of the Pi-Bast police, and with them every Phoenician
under the leadership of Hiram, were hunting the Greek Lykon and the
priestess Kama.
So three nights after the prince had departed, the chief of police
returned to Pi-Bast, bringing with him a large cage covered with linen,
in which was some woman who screamed in heaven-piercing accents.
Without lying down to sleep, the chief summoned the officer who had
made the investigation, and listened to his report attentively.
At sunrise the two priests, Sem and Mefres, with the nomarch of Pi-
Bast, received a most humble invitation to deign immediately, should
such be their will, to come to the chief of police. In fact, all three
entered at the very same moment; so the chief, bending low, implored
them to tell all that they knew concerning the murder of the son of the
viceroy.
The nomarch, though a great dignitary, grew pale when he heard the
humble invitation, and answered that he knew nothing. The high priest
Sem gave almost the same answer, adding, for himself, the reflection
that Sarah seemed to him innocent.
When the turn came to the holy Mefres, he said,
"I know not whether Thou hast heard, worthiness, that during the night
of the crime one of the prince's women escaped; her name was Kama."
The chief of police feigned to be greatly astonished.
"I know not," continued Mefres, "whether they have told thee that the
heir did not pass the night in the palace, but was in Sarah's house.
The doorkeeper and two servants recognized him, for the night was
rather clear. It is a great pity," finished the high priest, "that Thou
hast not been here these two days past."
The chief bowed very low to Mefres, and turned to the nomarch,
"Wouldst Thou be pleased, worthiness, to tell me, graciously, how the
prince was dressed that evening?"
"He wore a white jacket, and a purple apron with gold fringe," answered
the nomarch. "I remember very well, for that evening I was one of the
last who spoke with him."
The chief of the police clapped his hands, and Sarah's doorkeeper
entered the chamber.
"Didst Thou see the prince," inquired he, "when he came in the night to
the house of thy lady?"
"I opened the door to his worthiness, may he live through eternity!"
"And dost Thou remember how he was dressed?"
"He wore a jacket with yellow and black stripes, a cap of the same
colors, and a blue and red apron," answered the doorkeeper.
Both priests and the nomarch began to wonder.
Then they brought in Sarah's servants, who repeated exactly the same
description of the prince's dress. The nomarch's eyes flashed with
delight, but on the face of the holy Mefres confusion was evident.
"I will swear," put in the worthy nomarch, "that the prince wore a
white jacket and a purple apron with gold fringe."
"Now, most worthy men," said the chief of police, "be pleased to come
with me to the prison. There we shall see one more witness."
They went to a subterranean hall, where under a window stood a great
cage covered with linen. The chief threw back the linen with his stick,
and those present saw a woman lying in a corner.
"But this is the Lady Kama!" cried the nomarch.
It was indeed Kama, sick and changed very greatly. When she rose at
sight of the dignitaries, and appeared in the light, those present saw
that her face had bronze-colored spots on it. Her eyes seemed
wandering.
"Kama," said the chief, "the goddess Astaroth has touched thee with
leprosy."
"It was not the goddess!" said she, with a changed voice. "It was the
low Asiatics, who threw in a tainted veil to me. Oh, I am unfortunate!"
"Kama," continued the chief, "our most famous high priests, Sem and
Mefres, have taken compassion on thee. If Thou wilt tell the truth,
they will pray for thee, and perhaps the all-mighty Osiris will turn
from thee misfortune. There is still time, the disease is only
beginning, and our gods have great power."
The sick woman fell on her knees, and pressing her face against the
grating, said in a broken voice,
"Have compassion on me! I have renounced Phoenician gods, and to the
end of life will serve the gods of Egypt. Only avert from me."
"Answer, but answer truly," said the chief, "and the gods will not
refuse thee their favor. Who killed the child of the Jewess Sarah?"
"The traitor, Lykon, the Greek. He was a singer in our temple, and said
that he loved me. But he has rejected me, the infamous traitor, and
seized my jewels."
"Why did Lykon kill the child?"
"He wanted to kill the prince, but not finding him in the palace, he
ran to Sarah's villa."
"How did the criminal enter a house that was guarded?"
"Dost Thou not know that Lykon resembles the prince? They are as much
alike as two leaves of one palm-tree."
"How was Lykon dressed that night?"
"He wore a jacket in yellow and black stripes, a cap of the same
material, and a red and blue apron. Do not torment me; return me my
health! Be compassionate! I will be faithful to your gods! Are ye going
already? Oh, hard-hearted!"
"Poor woman," said the high priest Sem, "I will send to thee a mighty
worker of miracles; he may."
"May ye be blessed by Astaroth! No, may your almighty and compassionate
gods bless you," whispered Kama, in dreadful weariness.
The dignitaries left the prison and returned to the upper hall. The
nomarch, seeing that the high priest Mefres kept his eyes cast down and
his lips fixed, asked him,
"Art Thou not rejoiced, holy man, at these wonderful discoveries made
by our chief?"
"I have no reason to rejoice," answered Mefres, dryly. "The case,
instead of being simplified, has grown difficult. Sarah asserts that
she killed the child, while the Phoenician woman answers as if some one
had taught her."
"Then dost Thou not believe, worthiness?" interrupted the chief.
"No, for I have never seen two men so much alike that one could be
mistaken for the other. Still more, I have never heard that there
exists in Pi-Bast a man who could counterfeit our viceroy, may he live
through eternity!"
"That man," said the chief, "was in Pi-Bast, at the temple of Astaroth.
The Tyrian Prince Hiram knew him, and our viceroy has seen him with his
own eyes. More than that, not long ago, he commanded me to seize him,
and even offered a large reward."
"Ho! ho!" cried Mefres, "I see, worthy chief, I see that the highest
secrets of the state are concentrating about thee. But permit me not to
believe in that Lykon till I see him."
And he left the hall in anger, and after him Sem, shrugging his
shoulders. But when their steps had ceased to sound in the corridor,
the nomarch, looking quickly at the chief, asked,
"What dost Thou think?"
"Indeed," said the chief, "the holy prophets are beginning to interfere
in things which have never been under their jurisdiction."
"And we must endure this!" whispered the nomarch.
"For a time only," sighed the chief. "In so far as I know men's hearts,
all the military, all the officials of his holiness, in fine, all the
aristocracy, are indignant at this priestly tyranny. Everything must
have its limit."
"Thou hast uttered great words," said the nomarch, pressing the chief's
hand, "and some internal voice tells me that I shall see thee as
supreme chief of police at the side of his holiness."
A couple of days passed. During this time the dissectors had secured
from corruption the remains of the viceroy's son; but Sarah continued
in prison, awaiting her trial, certain that she would be condemned.
Kama was sitting, also, confined in her cage; people feared her, for
she was infected with leprosy. It is true that a miracle-working
physician visited her, repeated prayers before her, gave her everything
to drink, and gave her healing water. Still, fever did not leave the
woman, and the bronze-colored spots on her cheeks and brows grew more
definite. Therefore an order came from the nomarch to take her out to
the eastern desert, where, separated from mankind, dwelt a colony of
lepers.
On a certain evening the chief appeared at the temple of Ptah, saying
that he wished to speak with the high priest. The chief had with him
two agents, and a man covered from head to foot in a bag.
After a while an answer was sent to the chief that the high priests
were awaiting him in the sacred chamber of the statue of their
divinity.
The chief left the agents before the gate, took by the arm the man
dressed in the bag, and, conducted by a priest, went to the sacred
chamber. When he entered, he found Mefres and Sem arrayed as high
priests, with silver plates on their bosoms.
He fell before them on the pavement, and said,
"In accordance with your commands, I bring to you, holy fathers, the
criminal Lykon. Do ye wish to see his face?"
When they assented, the chief rose, and pulled the bag from the man
standing near him.
Both high priests cried out with astonishment. The Greek was really so
like Ramses that it was impossible to resist the deception.
"Thou art Lykon, the singer from the temple of Astaroth?" asked the
holy Sem of the bound Greek.
Lykon smiled contemptuously.
"And didst Thou kill the child of the prince?" added Mefres.
The Greek grew blue from rage, and strove to tear off his bonds.
"Yes!" cried he, "I killed the whelp, for I could not find the wolf,
his father, may heaven's blazes burn him!"
"In what has the prince offended thee, criminal?" asked the indignant
Sem.
"In what? He seized from me Kama, and plunged her into a disease for
which there is no remedy. I was free, I might have fled with life and
property, but I resolved to avenge myself, and now ye have me. It was
his luck that your gods are mightier than my hatred. Now ye may kill
me; the sooner ye do so, the better."
"This is a great criminal," said Sem.
Mefres was silent and gazed into the Greek's eyes, which were burning
with rage. He admired his courage, and fell to thinking. All at once he
said to the chief,
"Worthy sir, Thou mayst go, this man belongs to us."
"This man," replied the chief, who was indignant, "belongs to me. I
seized him and I shall receive a reward from Prince Ramses."
Mefres rose and drew forth from under his mantle a gold medal.
"In the name of the supreme council, of which I am a member," said he,
"I command thee to yield this man to us. Remember that his existence is
among the highest state secrets, and indeed it would be a hundred times
better for thee to forget that Thou hast left him here."
The chief fell again to the pavement, and went out repressing his
anger.
"Our lord the prince will repay you when he is the pharaoh!" thought
he. "And he will pay you my part ye will see."
"Where is the prisoner?" asked the agents standing before the gate.
"In prison," answered the chief; "the hands of the gods have rested on
him."
"And our reward?" asked the elder agent.
"The hands of the gods have rested on your reward also. Imagine then to
yourselves that ye saw that prisoner only in a dream, ye will be safer
in health and in service."
The agents dropped their heads in silence. But in their hearts they
swore vengeance against the priests, who had taken a handsome reward
from them.
After the chief had gone Mefres summoned a number of priests, and
whispered something into the ears of the eldest. The priests surrounded
the Greek and conducted him out of the chamber. Lykon made no
resistance.
"I think," said Sem, "that this man should be brought before the court
as a murderer."
"Never!" cried Mefres, with decision. "On this man weighs an
incomparably greater crime, he is like the heir to the throne."
"And what wilt Thou do with him, worthiness?"
"I will reserve him for the supreme council," said Mefres. "When the
heir to the throne visits pagan temples and steals from them women,
when the country is threatened with danger of war, and the power of the
priests with rebellion, Lykon may be of service."
On the following midday the high priest Sem, the nomarch, and the chief
of police went to Sarah's prison. The unfortunate woman had not eaten
for a number of days, and was so weak that she did not rise from the
bench even in presence of so many dignitaries.
"Sarah," said the nomarch, whom she had known before, "we bring thee
good news."
"News," repeated she with a pathetic voice. "My son is not living, that
is the news; my breast is full of nourishment, but my heart is full of
sadness."
"Sarah," said the nomarch, "Thou art free. Thou didst not kill thy
child."
Her seemingly dead features revived. She sprang from the bench, and
cried,
"I I killed him only I."
"Consider, Sarah, a man killed thy son, a Greek, named Lykon, the lover
of the Phoenician Kama."
"What dost Thou say?" whispered she, seizing the nomarch's hands. "Oh,
that Phoenician woman! I knew that she would ruin us. But the Greek? I
know no Greek. How could my son offend any man?"
"I know not," continued the nomarch. "That Greek is no longer alive.
But that man was so like Prince Ramses that when he entered thy chamber
Thou didst think him our lord. And Thou hast preferred to accuse thy
own self rather than our lord, and thine."
"Then that was not Ramses?" cried she, seizing her head. "And I,
wretched woman, let a strange man take my son from his cradle. Ha! ha!
ha!"
Then she laughed more and more. On a sudden, as if her legs had been
cut from under her, she fell to the floor, her hands hopped a couple of
times, and she died in hysteric laughter.
But on her face remained an expression of sorrow which even death could
not drive from it.