HALF an hour later dense throngs of the Egyptian army appeared and soon
the escort of the prince was in the camp. From all sides were heard
trumpets sounding the recall. Warriors seized their weapons, stood in
ranks and shouted. Officers fell at the feet of the prince, then raised
him in their arms, bore him around before the divisions, as they had
after the triumph of the day previous. The walls of the ravine trembled
from the shouts: "Live through eternity, victor! The gods are thy
guardians!"
The holy Mentezufis, surrounded by torches, approached now. The heir,
seeing the priest, tore Himself free from the arms of the officers and
hurried to him.
"Know, holy father, we have caught the Libyan chief Tehenna."
"Vain is the capture," replied the priest severely, "for which the
supreme chief must leave his army; especially when a new enemy may
attack at any moment."
The prince felt all the justice of this reproach, but for that very
cause did anger spring up in him. He clinched his fist, his eyes
gleamed.
"In the name of thy mother, be silent," whispered Pentuer, standing
behind him.
The heir was so astonished by the unexpected words of his adviser, that
in one moment he regained self-control, and then he understood that it
would be best to recognize his error.
"Thou speakest truth," answered he. "An army should never leave its
leader, nor the leader his army. I thought, however, that Thou wouldst
take my place, since Thou art a representative of the ministry of war."
The calm answer mollified Mentezufis, so the priest did not remind the
prince of the maneuvers of the previous year when he left the army in
the same way and incurred the pharaoh's disfavor.
At that moment Patrokles approached them with great uproar. The Grecian
general was drunk again and called from afar to the viceroy,
"See, heir, what the holy Mentezufis has done. Thou didst proclaim
pardon to the Libyans who would leave the invaders and return to the
army of his holiness. Those men came to me, and owing to thy promise I
broke the left wing of the enemy. But the worthy Mentezufis gave
command to slay every man of them. About a thousand prisoners have
perished all recent warriors of ours, who were to have pardon."
The blood rushed to the prince's head again, but Pentuer, who stood
there always behind him, whispered,
"Be silent, for the sake of the gods, be silent."
But Patrokles had no adviser, so he continued,
"From this moment we lose forever, not only the confidence of others,
but also that of our own people. For our army must become demoralized
utterly when it learns that traitors are forcing their way to the head
of it."
"Vile hireling," replied Mentezufis, coldly, "how darest Thou talk thus
of the army and the confidants of his holiness? Since the world became
the world such blasphemy has not been uttered! And I fear lest the gods
may avenge the insult wrought on them."
Patrokles laughed loudly.
"While I sleep among the Greeks, I am not afraid of the vengeance of
night gods. And while I am on the alert they will do nothing in the
daytime."
"Go to sleep! go among thy Greeks, drunkard," said Mentezufis, "lest a
thunderbolt fall on our heads because of thy offenses."
"On thy shaven head, Thou soul worth a copper, it will not fall, for it
would think thy head something else," said the Greek, half unconscious.
But seeing that the prince did not support him, he withdrew to his camp
ground.
"Didst Thou really command to kill the prisoners in spite of my promise
that they should have pardon?" asked the prince.
"Thou wert not in camp, worthiness," replied Mentezufis, "hence
responsibility falls not on thee for that deed: while I observe our
military laws, which command to destroy traitorous warriors. The man
who served his holiness once and joins his enemies afterward is to be
slain immediately that is the law."
"But if I had been here?"
"As supreme leader and a son of the pharaoh Thou couldst suspend the
execution of certain laws which I must obey," replied Mentezufis.
"Couldst Thou not have waited till my return?"
"The law commands to kill immediately, so I carried out its
provisions."
The prince was so stunned that he interrupted conversation and withdrew
to his tent. There falling into a seat he said to Tutmosis,
"I am today a captive of the priests. They murder prisoners, they
threaten officers, they do not even respect my duties. Did ye say
nothing to Mentezufis when he commanded to kill those unfortunate
prisoners?"
"He shielded himself with military laws, and new orders from Herhor."
"But it is I who am leader here, though I went out for half a day."
"Thou didst give the leadership explicitly into my hands and into those
of Patrokles," answered Tutmosis. "But when the holy Mentezufis came we
had to yield to him, for he is our superior."
The prince thought that the seizure of Tehenna was in every case
purchased with surpassing misfortunes. At the same time he felt in all
its force the significance of the maxim that a chief must never leave
his army. He had to confess his error, but that irritated his pride the
more and filled him with hatred for the priesthood.
"Behold," said he, "I am in captivity even before I have become the
pharaoh, may his holiness live through eternity. So today I must begin
to work myself out of this slavery, and first of all to be silent.
Pentuer is right: I must be silent always, and put away my anger, like
precious jewels into the storehouse of memory. But when it is full, ye
will pay me, O prophets."
"Thou dost not inquire, worthiness, for the results of the battle,"
said Tutmosis.
"Aha, just that. What are they?"
"More than two thousand prisoners, more than three thousand killed, and
barely a few hundred escaped."
"What, then, was the Libyan army?" asked the astonished prince.
"From six to seven thousand men."
"That cannot be. Is it possible that almost a whole army could perish
in such an encounter?"
"And still it is so; that was a terrible battle," replied Tutmosis.
"Thou didst surround them on all sides, the soldiers did the rest, well
yes and the worthy Mentezufis. Even inscriptions on the tombs of the
most famous pharaohs do not mention such a crushing of the enemies of
Egypt."
"Go to sleep, Tutmosis; I am wearied," interrupted the prince, feeling
that pride was beginning to rise to his head.
"Then have I won such a victory? Impossible!" thought he.
He threw himself on to the skins, but though mortally weary he could
not sleep.
Only fourteen hours had passed since the moment when he had given the
signal to begin the battle. Only fourteen hours? Was it possible!
Had he won such a battle? But he had not even seen a battle, nothing
but a yellow dense cloud, whence unearthly shouts were poured out in
torrents. Even now he sees that cloud, he hears the uproar, he feels
the heat, but there is no battle.
Next he sees a boundless desert, in which he is struggling through the
sand with painful effort. He and his men have the best horses in the
army, and still they creep forward like turtles. And what heat!
Impossible for man to support the like.
And now Typhon springs up, hides the light, burns, bites, suffocates.
Pale sparks are shooting forth from Pentuer's body. Above their heads
thunder rolls such thunder as he had never heard till that day. Later
on, silent night in the desert. The fleeing griffin, the dark outline
of the sphinx on the limestone hill.
"I have seen so much. I have passed through so much," thought Ramses.
"I have been present at the building of our temples, and even at the
birth of the great sphinx, which is beyond having an age now, and all
this happened in the course of fourteen hours."
Now the last thought flashed before the prince: "A man who has passed
through so much cannot live long."
A chill went through him from head to foot, and he fell asleep.
He woke next morning a couple of hours after sunrise. His eyes smarted,
all his bones ached; he coughed a little, but his mind was clear and
his heart full of courage.
Tutmosis was at the door of the tent.
"What is it?" asked the prince.
"Spies from the Libyan boundary bring strange news," said the favorite.
"A great throng of people are approaching our ravine, not troops,
however, but unarmed men, with children and women; at the head of them
is Musawasa, and the foremost of the Libyans."
"What does this mean?"
"Evidently they wish to beg peace of thee."
"After one battle?" asked the prince, with wonder.
"But what a battle! Besides, fear increases our army in their eyes.
They fear invasion and death."
"Let us see if this is a military stratagem," answered the prince,
after some thought. "How are our men?"
"They are in good health, they have eaten and drunk, they have rested
and are gladsome. But."
"But what?"
"Patrokles died in the night," whispered Tutmosis.
"How?" cried the prince, springing up.
"Some say that he drank too much, some that it was the punishment of
the gods. His face was blue and his mouth full of foam."
"Like that captive in Atribis, Thou rememberest him? His name was
Bakura; he broke into the feasting hall with complaints against the
nomarch. He died that same night from drunkenness, of course. What dost
Thou think?"
Tutmosis dropped his head.
"We must be very careful, my lord," whispered he.
"We shall try," answered the prince, calmly. "We will not even wonder
at the death of Patrokles. For what is there surprising in this, that
some drunken fellow dies who insulted the gods, nay! insulted the
priests even."
Tutmosis felt a threat in these jeering words.
The prince had loved Patrokles greatly. The Greek leader had been as
faithful as a dog to him. Ramses might forget many wrongs done himself,
but the death of that man he would not forgive.
Before midday a fresh regiment, the Theban, arrived from Egypt at the
prince's camp, and besides that some thousands of men and several
hundreds of asses bringing large supplies of provisions and also tents.
At the same time, from the direction of Libya, returned spies with
information that the baud of unarmed people coming toward the ravine
was increasing.
At command of the heir numerous small detachments of cavalry
reconnoitered the neighborhood in every direction to learn if a hostile
army were not hidden somewhere. Even the priests, who had brought with
them a small chapel of Amon, went to the summit of the highest hill and
held a religious service. Then returning to the camp, they assured
Ramses that a crowd of some thousands of unarmed Libyans were
approaching, but that there was no army at any point, at least none
within a fifteen mile radius.
The prince laughed at the report.
"I have good sight," said he, "but I could not see an army at that
distance."
The priests, after they had counseled together, informed the prince
that if he would bind himself not to tell the uninitiated what he saw
he would learn that it was possible to see at great distances.
Ramses took an oath. The priests placed the altar of Amon on a height,
and began prayers. When the prince had washed, removed his sandals,
offered to the god a gold chain and incense, they conducted him to a
small box which was perfectly dark and told him to look at one wall of
it.
After a while sacred hymns were intoned during which a bright circle
appeared on the box. Soon the bright color grew darker; the prince saw
a sandy plain, in the midst of it cliffs, and near them an Asiatic
outpost.
The priests sang with more animation and the picture changed. Another
patch of the desert was visible, and on it a group of people who looked
no larger than ants. Still the movements and dress, and even the faces
of the persons were so definite that the prince could describe them.
The astonishment of the heir knew no bounds. He rubbed his eyes,
touched the moving picture. Suddenly he turned away his face; the
picture vanished and darkness remained.
When he went out of the chapel the elder priest asked him,
"Well, Erpatr, dost Thou believe now in the might of the gods of
Egypt?"
"Indeed," answered he, "ye are such great sages that the whole world
ought to give you offerings and homage. If ye can see the future in an
equal degree nothing can oppose you."
After these words a priest entered the chapel and began to pray; soon a
voice was heard from the chapel, saying,
"Ramses! the fates of the kingdom are weighed, and before another full
moon comes Thou wilt be its ruler."
"O gods!" cried the terrified prince. "Is my father so sick, then?"
He fell on his face in the sand; then an assisting priest inquired if
he did not wish to learn something more.
"Tell me, Father Amon, whether my plans will be accomplished."
After a while a voice spoke in the chapel.
"If Thou begin no war in the east, if Thou give offerings to the gods
and respect their servants, a long life awaits thee, and a reign full
of glory."
After the miracles which had happened on the open field, in the open
day, the excited prince returned to his tent.
"Nothing can resist the priests," thought he in fear.
He found Pentuer in the tent.
"Tell me, my counselor," said he, "whether priests can read the heart
of a man and unveil his secret purpose."
Pentuer shook his head.
"Sooner," answered he, "will man see what there is in the centre of a
cliff than read the heart of another man. It is even closed to the
gods, and death alone can discover its secrets."
Ramses drew a deep sigh of relief, but he could not free himself from
fear. When, toward evening, it was necessary to call a military
council, he summoned Mentezufis and Pentuer.
No one mentioned the sudden death of Patrokles; perhaps because there
was more urgent business; for Libyan envoys had come imploring in the
name of Musawasa mercy for his son Tehenna, and offering to Egypt
surrender and peace forever.
"Evil men," said one of the envoys, "tempted our people saying that
Egypt was weak; that her pharaoh was the shadow of a ruler. But
yesterday we learned how strong your arm is, and we consider it wiser
to yield and pay you tribute than expose our people to certain death
and our property to ruin."
When the military council had heard this speech the Libyans were sent
from the tent, and Prince Ramses asked the holy Mentezufis directly for
his opinions; this astonished even the generals.
"Only yesterday," said the worthy prophet, "I should have been glad to
refuse the prayer of Musawasa, transfer the war to Libya, and destroy
that nest of robbers. But today I have received such important news
from Memphis that I will vote for mercy to the conquered."
"Is his holiness, my father, sick?" inquired the prince, with deep
emotion.
"He is sick. But till we finish with the Libyans Thou must not think of
his holiness."
When the heir dropped his head in sadness, Mentezufis added,
"I must perform one more duty. Yesterday, worthy prince, I made bold to
offer a judgment that for such a wretched captive as Tehenna, a chief
should not leave his army. Today I see that I was mistaken, for if Thou
hadst not seized Tehenna we should not have this early peace with
Musawasa. Thy wisdom, chief, has proved higher than military
regulations."
The prince was arrested by this compunction on the part of Mentezufis.
"Why does he speak thus?" thought he. "It is evident that Amon is not
alone in knowing of my holy father's illness."
And in the soul of the heir the old feelings were roused, contempt for
the priests and distrust of their miracles.
"So it was not the gods who told me that I should soon become pharaoh,
but the news came from Memphis, and the priests tricked me in the
chapel! But if they lie in one thing, who will assure me that those
views of the desert shown on the wall were not deceit also?"
Since the prince was silent all the time, which was attributed to his
sorrow because of his father's illness, and the generals did not dare
to say anything after the decisive words of Mentezufis, the military
council ended. A unanimous decision was made to stop the war, take the
very highest tribute from the Libyans, and send them an Egyptian
garrison.
All expected now that the pharaoh would die. But Egypt, to celebrate a
funeral worthy of its ruler, needed profound peace.
When leaving the tent of the military council the prince said to
Mentezufis,
"The valiant Patrokles died last night; do ye holy fathers think to
show his remains honor?"
"He was a barbarian and a great sinner," said the priest, "but he
rendered such famous services to Egypt that it is proper to assure life
beyond the grave to him. If Thou permit, worthiness, we will send the
body of that man this day to Memphis, so as to make a mummy of it, and
take it to an eternal dwelling in Thebes among the retreats of the
pharaohs."
The prince consented willingly, but his suspicions rose.
"Yesterday," thought he, "Mentezufis threatened me as he might a lazy
pupil, and it was even a favor of the gods that he did not beat my back
with a stick; but today he speaks to me like an obedient son to a
father, and almost falls on his breast before me. Is this a sign that
power is drawing near my tent, and also the hour of reckoning?"
Thus thinking, the prince increased in pride, and his heart was filled
with greater wrath against the priesthood. Wrath which was the worse
for being silent like a scorpion which has hidden in the sand and maims
the incautious foot with its biting sting.