THE priest observed the heir stealthily, and found him much changed.
Ramses was pale; he had almost grown thin in a few hours; his eyes had
lost their glitter and had sunk beneath his forehead.
When Mentezufis heard what the Greeks had in mind he did not hesitate a
moment to surrender the body of Patrokles.
"The Greeks are right," said the holy man, "in thinking that we have
power to torment the shade of Patrokles, but they are fools to suppose
that any priest of Chaldea or Egypt would permit such a crime. Let them
take the body of their compatriot, if they think that after death he
will be happier under protection of their own rites."
The prince sent an officer straightway with the needful order, but he
detained Mentezufis. Evidently he wished to say something to him,
though he hesitated.
After some silence Ramses asked suddenly,
"Thou knowest, of course, holy prophet, that one of my women, Sarah, is
dead, and that her son was murdered?"
"That happened," said Mentezufis, "the night that we marched from Pi-
Bast."
The prince sprang up.
"By the eternal Amon!" cried he. "Did that take place so long ago, and
ye did not mention it? Ye did not even tell me that I was suspected of
murdering my own son?"
"Lord," said the priest, "the leader of an army in the day before
battle has neither son nor father; he has no one whatever save the army
and the enemy. Could we in extreme moments disturb thee with such
tidings?"
"That is true," replied the prince, after some thought. "If we were
attacked today I am not sure that I could command the army. In general
I am not sure of my power to regain peace of mind.
"Such a little such a beautiful child! And that woman who sacrificed
herself for me after I had wronged her grievously. Never have I thought
that misfortunes of such sort could happen, and that people's hearts
could endure them."
"Time heals time and prayer," whispered the priest.
The prince nodded, and again there was such silence in the tent that
the dropping of sand in the hour glass was audible.
Again the heir rallied,
"Tell me, holy father," said he, "unless it belongs to the great
secrets, what is the real difference between burning the dead and the
making of mummies? for though I have heard something at school I do not
understand clearly this question, to which the Greeks attach such
importance."
"We attach far more, the greatest importance to this question," replied
Mentezufis. "To this our cities of the dead testify; they occupy a
whole region in the western desert. The pyramids testify to it also;
they are the tombs of the pharaohs of the ancient kingdom, and the
immense tombs which are cut in cliffs for the rulers of our period.
"Burial and the tomb are of great importance the very greatest human
importance. For while we live in bodily form fifty or a hundred years,
our shades endure tens of thousands till they are perfectly purified.
"The Assyrian barbarians laugh at us, saying that we give more to the
dead than the living; but they would weep over their own lack of care
for the dead did they know the mystery of death and the tomb as do the
priests of Egypt."
The prince started up.
"Thou dost terrify me," said he. "Dost forget that among the dead there
are two beings dear to me, and these are not buried according to
Egyptian ritual."
"On the contrary. Just now men are embalming them. Both Sarah and thy
son will have everything which may profit them in the long journey."
"Will they?" asked Ramses, as if comforted.
"I guarantee," answered Mentezufis, "that everything will be done which
is needed, and should this earthly life ever be unpleasant to thee Thou
wilt find them happy in the other."
On hearing this Ramses was greatly affected.
"Then dost Thou think, holy man," inquired he, "that I shall find my
son some time, and that I shall be able to say to that woman: 'Sarah, I
know that I have been too harsh to thee?'"
"I am as certain of it as that I see thee now, worthy lord," replied
the prophet.
"Speak, speak of this!" exclaimed the prince. "A man does not think of
the grave till he has put a part of himself there. This misfortune has
struck me, and struck just when I thought myself more powerful than any
save the pharaoh."
"Thou hast inquired, lord," began Mentezufis, "as to the difference
between burning the dead and embalming them. We find the same
difference that there is between destroying a garment and preserving it
in a closet. When the garment is preserved it may be of use frequently;
and if a man has only one garment it would be madness to burn it."
"I do not understand this," interrupted Ramses. "Ye do not explain it
even in the higher schools."
"But we can tell it to the heir of the pharaoh. Thou knowest,
worthiness," continued the priest, "that a human being is composed of
three parts: the body, the divine spark, and the shade, or Ka, which
connects the body and the divine spark.
"When a man dies his shade separates from his body as does the divine
spark. If the man lives without sin the divine spark and the shade
appear among the gods to live through eternity. But each man sins,
stains himself in this world; therefore his shade, the Ka, must purify
itself, for thousands of years sometimes. It purifies itself in this
way, that being invisible it wanders over our earth among people and
does good in its wandering, though the shades of criminals, even in
life beyond the grave, commit offences, and at last destroy themselves
and the divine spark contained in them.
"Now and this is no secret for thee, worthiness this shade, the Ka, is
like a man, but looks as though made of most delicate mist. The shade
has a head, hands, body, it can walk, speak, throw things or carry
them, it dresses like a man, and even, especially during a few hundred
of the earlier years after death, must take some food at intervals. But
the shade obtains its main strength from the body which remains on the
earth here. Therefore if we throw a body into a grave it spoils quickly
and the shade must satisfy itself with dust and decay. If we burn the
body the shade has nothing but ashes with which to gain strength. But
if we embalm the body, or preserve it for thousands of years the shade
Ka is always healthy and strong; it passes the time of purification in
calmness, and even agreeably."
"Wonderful things!" whispered the heir.
"Priests in the course of investigations during thousands of years have
learned important details of life beyond the grave. They have convinced
themselves that if the viscera are left in the body of a dead man, his
shade, the Ka, has a great appetite, and needs as much food as a man
during earthly existence, and if food is withheld it will rush at
living people and suck the blood out of them. But if the viscera are
removed from the body, as we remove them, the shade lives on without
food almost: its own body, embalmed and filled with plants which are
strongly fragrant, suffices it for millions of years.
"It has been verified, also, that if the tomb of a dead man is empty
the shade yearns for the world and wanders about in it needlessly. But
if we place in a mortuary chapel the clothing, furniture, arms,
vessels, utensils, things pleasant during life to the dead man, if the
walls are covered with paintings depicting feasts, hunts, divine
services, wars, and, in general, events in which the departed took
share, if besides we add statues of members of his family, servants,
horses, dogs and cattle, the shade will not go out to the world without
need, for it will find what it wants in the house of the dead with its
mummy.
"Finally they have convinced themselves that many shades, even after
penance is finished, could not enter regions of endless bliss since
they know not the needful prayers, incantations, and conversations with
gods. We provide for that by winding the mummies in papyruses, on which
are written sentences, and by putting the 'Book of the Dead' in their
coffins.
"In one word, our funeral ritual assures strength to the shade,
preserves it from misfortunes and yearnings after earth, facilitates
its entrance to the company of gods, and secures living people from
every harm which shades might inflict on them. Our great care of the
dead has this in view specially; hence we erect for them almost palaces
and in them dwellings with the greatest ornaments."
The prince thought awhile, but said finally,
"I understand that ye show great kindness to weak and defenseless
shades by caring for them in this manner. But who will assure me that
there are shades?"
"That there is a waterless desert," said the priest, "I know, for I see
it, I have sunk in its sands and felt heat in it. That there are
countries in which water turns to stone, and steam into white down, I
know also, for credible witnesses have informed me."
"But how do ye know of shades which no man has seen, and how do ye know
of their life after death since no one of them has ever returned to
us?"
"Thou art mistaken, worthiness," replied the priest. "Shades have shown
themselves more than once, and even revealed their own secrets.
"It is possible to live ten years in Thebes and not see rain: it is
possible to live a hundred years on earth and not meet a shade. But
whoso should live hundreds of years in Thebes, or live thousands of
years on earth would see more than one rain, and more than one shade."
"Who has lived thousands of years?" inquired Ramses.
"The sacred order of priests has lived, is living, and will live,"
replied Mentezufis. "The sacred order of priests settled on the Nile
thirty thousand years ago. Since then it has scrutinized the heavens
and the earth; it has created our wisdom, and made the plan of every
field, sluice, canal, pyramid, and temple in Egypt."
"That is true. The order of priests is mighty and wise, but where are
the shades? What man has seen them, and who is the person who has
spoken to them?"
"Know this, lord," said Mentezufis. "There is a shade in each living
man; as there are people distinguished for immense strength, or a
marvelous swiftness of vision, so there are men who possess the
uncommon gift that during life they can separate their own shades from
their bodies.
"Our secret books are filled with the most credible narratives touching
this subject. More than one prophet has been able to fall into a sleep
that is deathlike. At that time his shade separated from the body and
transferred itself in a moment to Tyre, Babylon, or Nineveh, examined
what it wished, listened to counsels relating to us, and after the
awakening of the prophet gave the most minute account of all that it
had witnessed. More than one evil magician, after falling asleep in
like fashion, has sent out his shade against a man whom he hated, and
overturned or destroyed furniture and terrified a whole household.
"It has happened, too, that the man attacked by the shade of the
magician struck the shade with a spear or a sword, and on his house
bloody traces were left, while the magician received on his body that
wound exactly which was inflicted on his shade.
"More than once also has a shade of a living man appeared in company
with him, but some steps distant."
"I know such shades," said the prince ironically.
"I must add," continued Mentezufis, "that not only people, but animals,
plants, stones, buildings, and utensils have shades also. But a
wonderful thing the shade of an inanimate object is not dead, it
possesses life, moves, goes from place to place, it even thinks and
expresses thought through various signs, most frequently through
knocking.
"When a man dies his shade lives and shows itself to people. In our
books thousands of such cases are noted; some shades asked for food,
others walked about in houses, worked in a garden, or hunted in the
mountains with the shades of their dogs and cats with them. Other
shades have frightened people, destroyed their property, drunk their
blood, even enticed living persons to excesses. But there are good
shades: those of mothers nursing their children, of soldiers, fallen in
battle, who give warning of an ambush of an enemy, of priests who
reveal important secrets.
"In the eighteenth dynasty the shade of the pharaoh, Cheops, who was
doing penance for oppressing people while building the great pyramid,
appeared in Nubian gold mines, and in compassion for the sufferings of
toiling convicts showed them a new spring of water."
"Thou tellest curious things, holy man," replied Ramses; "let me now
tell thee something. One night in Pi-Bast my own shade appeared to me.
That shade was just like me, and even dressed like me. Soon, however, I
convinced myself that it was no shade. It was a living man, a certain
Lykon, the vile murderer of my son. He began his offences by
frightening the Phoenician woman Kama. I appointed a reward for seizing
him but our police not only did not seize the man, they even permitted
him to seize that same Kama and to slay a harmless infant.
"Today I hear that they have captured Kama, but I know nothing of
Lykon. Of course he is living in freedom, in good health, cheerful and
rich through stolen treasures; may be making ready for new crimes
even."
"So many persons are pursuing that criminal that he must be taken at
last," said Mentezufis. "And if he falls into our hands Egypt will pay
him for the sufferings which he has caused the heir to her throne.
Believe me, lord, Thou mayst forgive all his crimes in advance, for the
punishment will be in accord with their greatness."
"I should prefer to have him in my own hands," said the prince. "It is
always dangerous to have such a 'shade' while one is living." [It is
curious that the theory of shades, on which very likely the uncommon
care of the Egyptians for the dead was built, has revived in our times
in Europe. Adolf d'Assier explains it minutely in a pamphlet "Essai sur
l'humanite posthume et le spiritisme, par un positiviste." ]
Not greatly pleased by this end of his explanation, the holy Mentezufis
took leave of the viceroy. After the priest had gone, Tutmosis entered.
"The Greeks are raising the pile for their chief," said he, "and a
number of Libyan women have agreed to wail at the funeral ceremony."
"We shall be present," answered Ramses. "Dost Thou know that my son is
killed? such a little child. When I carried him he laughed and held out
his little hands to me. What wickedness may be in the human heart is
beyond comprehension. If that vile Lykon had attempted my life I could
understand, even forgive him. But to slay a little child."
"But have they told thee of Sarah's devotion?" inquired Tutmosis.
"She was, as I think, the most faithful of women, and I did not treat
her justly. But how is it," cried the prince, striking his fist on the
table, "that they have not seized that wretch Lykon to this moment? The
Phoenicians swore to me, and I promised a reward to the chief of
police. There must be some secret in this matter."
Tutmosis approached the prince, and whispered,
"A messenger from Hiram has been with me. Hiram, fearing the anger of
the priests, is hiding before he leaves Egypt. Hiram has heard, from
the chief of police in PiBast perhaps, that Lykon was captured But
quiet!" added the frightened Tutmosis.
The prince fell into anger for a moment, but soon mastered himself.
"Captured?" repeated he. "Why should that be a secret?"
"It is, for the chief of police had to yield him up to the holy Mefres
at his command in the name of the supreme council."
"Aha! aha!" repeated the heir. "So the revered Mefres and the supreme
council need a man who resembles me so much? Aha! They are to give my
son and Sarah a beautiful funeral, and embalm their remains. But the
murderer they will secrete safely. Aha!
"And the holy Mentezufis is a great sage. He told me today all the
secrets of life beyond the grave; he explained to me the whole funeral
ritual, as if I were a priest at least of the third degree. But
touching the seizure of Lykon, the hiding of that murderer by Mefres,
not a word! Evidently the holy fathers are more occupied by minute
secrets of the heir to the throne than with the great secrets of future
existence. Aha!"
"It seems to me, lord, that Thou shouldst not wonder at that,"
interrupted Tutmosis. "Thou knowest that the priests suspect thee of
ill-will, and are on their guard. All the more."
"What, all the more?"
"Since his holiness is very ill. Very."
"Aha! my father is ill, and I meanwhile at the head of the army must
watch the desert lest the sand should run out of it. It is well that
Thou hast reminded me of this! Yes, his holiness must be very ill,
since the priests are so tender toward me. They show me everything and
speak of everything, except this, that Mefres has secreted Lykon."
"Tutmosis," said the prince on a sudden, "dost Thou think today that I
can reckon on the army?"
"We will go to death, only give the order."
"And dost Thou reckon on the nobles?"
"As on the army."
"That is well. Now we may render the rites to Patrokles."