Chapter 32

Next day the prince rose late, bathed himself and dressed, then summoned Tutmosis.

The exquisite appeared at once, dressed carefully and perfumed. He looked sharply at the prince to learn in what humor he was, and to fix his own features correspondingly. But on the face of Ramses was only weariness.

"Well," asked the prince, yawning, "art Thou sure that a Bon is born to me?"

"I have that news from the holy Mefres."

"Oho! How long is it since the prophets are occupied with my household?"

"Since the time that Thou hast shown them thy favor, worthiness."

"Is that true?" asked the prince, and he fell to thinking.

He recalled the scene of the previous night in the temple of Astaroth, and compared it with a similar spectacle in the temple of Hator.

"They called my name," said he to himself, "both here and there. But there my cell was very narrow, and the walls were thick; here the person calling, namely, Kama, could hide herself behind a column and whisper. But here it was terribly dark, while in my cell it was clear." At last he said to Tutmosis,

"When did that happen?"

"When was thy worthy son born? About ten days ago. The mother and child are well; they seem perfectly healthy. At the birth were present Menes himself, thy worthy mother's physician, and his worthiness Herhor."

"Well well," said the prince, and again he fell to thinking: "They touched me here and there, with a band in both cases. Was there such a difference? It seems to me that there was, maybe for the reason that here I was, and there I was not, prepared to see a miracle. But here they showed me another myself, which they did not succeed in doing there. Very clever are the priests! I am curious to know who represented me so well, a god or a man? Oh, the priests are very clever, and I do not know even whom to trust more, our priests or the Phoenicians?

"Hear me, Tutmosis," said he, aloud. "They must come hither; I must see my son. At last no one will have the right to consider himself better than I."

"Is the worthy Sarah to come immediately with her son?"

"Let them come at the earliest, if their health permit. Within the palace bounds are many convenient buildings. It is necessary to choose a place among the trees, quiet, and, when the time of heat comes, cool. Let me, too, show the world my son."

Again he was thoughtful; this disquieted Tutmosis.

"Yes, they are clever!" thought Ramses. "That they deceive the common people, even by rude methods, I knew. Poor sacred Apis! how many prods he got during processions when people lay prostrate before him! But to deceive me, I should not have believed that, voices of gods, invisible hands, a man covered with pitch; these were accessories! Then came Pentuer's song about the decrease of land and population, the officials, the Phoenicians, and all that to disgust me with war."

Tutmosis said suddenly,

"I fall on my face before thee."

"I must bring hither, gradually, regiments from cities near the sea. I wish to have a review and reward them for loyalty."

"But we, the nobles, are we not loyal to thee?" inquired Tutmosis, confused.

"The nobles and the army are one."

"But the nomarchs and the officials?"

"Even the officials are loyal," answered the prince. "What do I say? The Phoenicians even are so, though in many other points they are deceivers."

"By the gods! speak in a lower voice," whispered Tutmosis; and he looked toward the other room timidly.

"Oho!" laughed the prince, "why this alarm? So for thee, too, it is no secret that we have traitors?"

"I know of whom Thou art speaking, worthiness, for Thou wert always prejudiced against."

"Against whom?"

"Against whom I divine. But I thought that after the agreement with Herhor, after a long stay in the temple."

"What of the temple? In the temple, and in the whole country, for that matter, I have convinced myself of one thing, that the very best lands, the most active population, and immense wealth are not the property of the pharaoh."

"Quieter! quieter!" whispered Tutmosis.

"But I am quiet always; I have a calm face at all times, so let me speak even here; besides, I should have the right to say, even in the supreme council, that in this Egypt, which belongs entirely to my father, I, his heir and viceroy, had to borrow a hundred talents from a petty prince of Tyre. Is this not a shame?"

"But how did this come to thy mind today?" asked Tutmosis, wishing to put an end to the perilous conversation as quickly as possible.

"How?" answered the prince; and he grew silent, to sink again into meditation.

"It would not mean so much," thought he, "if they deceived me alone; I am only heir to the pharaoh, and not admitted to all secrets. But who will assure me that they have not acted in the same way with my worthy father? He has trusted them entirely during thirty and some years; he has bowed down before miracles, given abundant offerings to the gods, for this result, that his property and power should pass into the hands of ambitious tricksters! And no one has opened his eyes. For the pharaoh cannot, like me, enter Phoenician temples at night, and absolutely no one has admission to his holiness.

"But who will assure me today that the priests are not striving to overthrow the throne, as Hiram said? Even my father informed me that the Phoenicians are most truthful wherever they have an interest to be so. Assuredly it is their interest not to be expelled from Egypt, and not to fall under the power of Assyria. The Assyrians are a herd of raging lions! Wherever they pass through a country nothing is left except ruins and dead bodies, as after a fire."

All at once Ramses raised his head; from a distance came the sound of flutes and horns.

"What does this mean?" inquired he of Tutmosis.

"Great news!" replied the courtier, with a smile. "The Asiatics are welcoming a famous pilgrim from Babylon."

"From Baby Ion? Who is he?"

"His name is Sargon."

"Sargon?" repeated the prince. "Sargon? Ha! ha!" laughed the prince. "What is he?"

"He must be a great dignitary at the court of King Assar. He brings with him ten elephants, a herd of most beautiful steeds of the desert, crowds of slaves and servants."

"But why has he come?"

"To bow down before the wonderful goddess Astaroth, who is honored by all Asia," answered Tutmosis.

"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the prince, recalling what Hiram had said of the coming of the Assyrian ambassador, Sargon. "Ha! ha! ha! Sargon, a relative of King Assar, has become all at once such a devotee that for whole months he goes on a difficult journey only to do honor in Pi-Bast to the goddess Astaroth. But in Nineveh he could have found greater gods and more learned priests. Ha! ha! ha!"

Tutmosis looked at the prince with astonishment.

"What has happened to thee, Erpatr?" asked he.

"Here is a miracle not described, I think, in the chronicles of any temple. But think, Tutmosis: When Thou art most occupied with the problem of catching the thief who is always plundering thee, that same thief puts his hand again into thy casket before thy eyes, in presence of a thousand witnesses. Ha! ha! ha! Sargon, a pious pilgrim!"

"I understand nothing," whispered Tutmosis, in anxiety.

"And Thou hast no need to understand," replied the viceroy. "Remember only that Sargon has come hither for devotional purposes."

"It seems to me that everything of which Thou art speaking," said Tutmosis, lowering his voice, "is very dangerous."

"Then do not mention it to any one."

"I will not; but art Thou sure that Thou thyself, prince, wilt not betray the secret? Thou art as quick as lightning."

The prince placed his hand on the courtier's shoulder.

"Be at rest," said he, looking him in the eyes. "If ye will only be loyal to me, ye, the nobles, and the army, ye will see wonderful things, and, as regards you, evil times will be ended."

"Thou knowest that we are ready to die at thy command," said Tutmosis, placing his hand on his breast.

There was such uncommon seriousness on the adjutant's face that the prince understood, moreover not for the first time, that there was concealed in that riotous exquisite a valiant man, on whose sword and understanding he could put reliance.

From that time the prince had no more such strange conversations with Tutmosis. But that faithful friend and servant divined that connected with the arrival of Sargon were some great hidden interests of state which the priests alone had decided.

For a certain time all the Egyptian aristocracy, nomarchs, higher officials, and leaders had been whispering among themselves very quietly, yes, very quietly, that important events were approaching. For the Phoenicians under an oath to keep the secret had told them of certain treaties with Assyria, according to which Phoenicia would be lost, and Egypt be covered with disgrace and become even tributary.

Indignation among the aristocracy was immense, but no one betrayed himself; on the contrary, as well at the court of Ramses as at the courts of the nomarchs of Lower Egypt, people amused themselves perfectly. It might have been thought that with the weather had fallen on men a rage not only for amusements but for riot. There was no day without spectacles, feasts, and triumphal festivals; there was no night without illuminations and uproar. Not only in Pi-Bast but in every city it had become the fashion to run through the streets with torches, music, and, above all, with full pitchers. They broke into houses and dragged out sleeping dwellers to drinking-bouts; and since the Egyptians were inclined toward festivities every man living amused himself.

During Ramses' stay in the temple of Hator the Phoenicians, seized by a panic, passed their days in prayer and refused credit to every man. But after Hiram's interview with the viceroy caution deserted the Phoenicians, and they began to make loans to Egyptian lords more liberally than at any time earlier.

Such abundance of gold and goods as there was in Lower Egypt, and, above all, such small per cent the oldest men could not remember.

The severe and wise priests turned attention to the madness of the upper classes; but they were mistaken in estimating the cause of it, and the holy Mentezufis, who sent a report every few days to Herhor. stated that the heir, wearied by religious practices in the temple, was amusing himself to madness, and with him the entire aristocracy.

The worthy minister did not even answer these statements, which showed that he considered the rioting of the prince as quite natural and perhaps even useful.

With such mental conditions around him Ramses enjoyed much freedom. Almost every evening when his attendants had drunk too much wine and had begun to lose consciousness, the prince slipped out of the palace. Hidden by the dark burnous of an officer, he hurried through the empty streets and out beyond the city to the gardens of the temple of Astaroth. There he found the bench before that small villa, and, hidden among the trees, listened to the song of Kama's worshipper, and dreamed of the priestess.

The moon rose later and later, drawing near its renewal. The nights were dark, the effects of light were gone; but in spite of this Ramses continued to see that brightness of the first night, and he heard the passionate strophes of the Greek singer.

More than once he rose from his bench to go directly to Kama's dwelling, but shame seized him. He felt that it did not become the heir of Egypt to show himself in the house of a priestess who was visited by any pilgrim who gave a bountiful offering to the temple. What was more striking, he feared lest the sight of Kama surrounded by pitchers and unsuccessful admirers might extinguish the wonderful picture in the moonlight.

When Dagon had sent her to turn away the prince's wrath, Kama seemed attractive, but not a maiden for whom a man might lose his head straightway. But when he, a leader of armies and a viceroy, was forced for the first time in life to sit outside the house of a woman, when the night roused him to imaginings, and when he heard the adroit declarations of another, a strange feeling rose in him, a mixture of sadness, desire, and jealousy.

If he could have had Kama at every call, she would have become repulsive quickly, and perhaps he would have fled from her. But Death, standing on the threshold of her bedchamber, an enamored singer, and, finally, that humiliating position of the highest dignitary before a priestess, all this created a condition which for Ramses was unknown till that time, hence enticing.

And this was why he had appeared almost every evening of ten successive days in the gardens of the goddess Astaroth, shielding his face from all who passed him.

Once, when he had drunk much wine at a feast in his palace, Ramses slipped out with a settled purpose.

"To-night," said he to himself, "I will enter Kama's dwelling; as to her adorers let them sing at her windows."

He passed through the city quickly; but in the gardens of the temple he lessened his steps, for again he was shamefaced.

"Has it ever been heard," thought he, "that the heir of a pharaoh ran after women like a poor scribe who cannot borrow ten drachmas anywhere? All women come to me, so should this one."

And he was ready then to turn back to his palace.

"But she cannot come," said he to himself, "for they would kill her."

He stopped and hesitated.

"Who would kill her, Hiram, who believes in nothing, or Dagon, who knows not himself what he is? True, but there is a multitude of other Phoenicians in Egypt, and hundreds of thousands of wild and fanatical pilgrims are prowling around here. In the eyes of those idiots Kama would commit sacrilege were she to visit me."

So he went toward the villa. He did not even think that danger might threaten him there, him, who without drawing his sword might by a mere look bring the whole world to his feet; he, Ramses, and danger!

When the prince came out from among trees, he saw that Kama's house was more brightly lighted and more noisy than usual. In fact, the terrace and the rooms were filled with guests, and around the villa were throngs of people.

"What band is this?" thought Ramses.

It was an uncommon assemblage. Not far from the house was an immense elephant, bearing on his back a gilded litter with purple curtains. At the side of the elephant, neighing and squealing, and, in general, acting impatiently, were horses with large necks and legs, with tails plaited, and with something on their heads like metal helmets.

Among these restless, almost wild animals, some tens of men were busied, men such as Ramses had never seen elsewhere. They had shaggy hair, great beards, pointed caps with ear-laps; some wore long robes of coarse cloth reaching to their heels; others wore short coats and skirts, and some had boots on their feet. All carried swords, bows, and darts.

At sight of these foreigners, stalwart, awkward, laughing vulgarly, smelling of tallow, and speaking an unknown and harsh language, the prince was indignant. As a lion, though not hungry, prepares to spring when he sees a common animal, so Ramses, though they had offended him in no way, felt a terrible hatred toward those strangers. He was irritated by their language, their dress, the odor from their bodies, even their horses. The blood rushed to his head, and he reached for his sword to attack those men slay them and their beasts also. But soon he recovered his senses.

"Set has cast a spell on me," thought Ramses.

At that moment a naked Egyptian, with a cap on his head and a girdle around his waist, passed along the path slowly. The prince felt that the man was near to him, even precious at that moment, for he was an Egyptian. He took from his purse a gold ring worth from ten to twenty drachmas, and gave it to the bondman.

"Listen," said he; "who are those people?"

"Assyrians," whispered the Egyptian; and hatred glittered in his eyes as he answered.

"Assyrians," repeated the prince. "Are those Assyrians, then? And what are they doing here?"

"Their lord, Sargon, is paying court to the priestess, the sacred Kama, and they are guarding him. May leprosy devour them, the wretches, the swine sons!"

"Thou mayst go."

The naked man made a low obeisance and ran, surely to some kitchen.

"Are those Assyrians?" thought the prince, as he looked at their strange figures and heard their hated, though un-understood language. "So already Assyrians are on the Nile, to become brothers to us, or to deceive us, and their dignitary, Sargon, is courting Kama?"

He returned home. His imaginings died before the light of a passion felt then for the first time. He, a man mild and noble, felt a deadly hatred toward the ancient enemies of Egypt, whom he had never met till that evening.

When leaving the temple of Hator, and after his interview with Hiram, he began to think of war with Asia; that was merely thinking that Egypt needed population, and the pharaoh needed treasure; and since war gave the easiest means to win them, and since, besides, it agreed with his need of glory, Ramses conceived the plan of warfare. But now he was concerned neither with slaves, nor treasures, nor glory, for in him was sounding at that moment a voice mightier than every other, the voice of hatred. The pharaohs had struggled so long with the Assyrians, both sides had shed so much blood, the struggle had fixed its roots in their hearts so profoundly, that the prince grasped for his sword at the very sight of Assyrian warriors. It seemed that the spirits of all the slain Egyptians, their toils and sufferings, had risen in the soul of this descendant of pharaohs and cried for retribution.

When Ramses reached the palace, he summoned Tutmosis. One of them had drunk too much, the other was raging.

"Dost Thou know what I have seen just now?" asked the prince of his favorite.

"One of the priests, perhaps."

"I have seen Assyrians. O ye gods! what I felt! What a low people! Their bodies from head to foot are covered with wool, as wild beasts are; the stench of old tallow comes from them; and what speech, what beard, what hair!"

The prince walked up and down the room quickly, panting, excited.

"I thought," said he, "that I despised the robberies of scribes, the deceit of nomarchs, that I hated the cunning and ambition of priests; I felt repulsion for Jews, and I feared the Phoenicians; but I convinced myself to-night that those were all amusements. I know now, for the first time, what hate is, after I have seen and heard Assyrians. I understand now-why a dog tears the cat which has crossed his path."

"Thou art accustomed to Jews and Phoenicians, worthiness, Thou hast met Assyrians now for the first time," put in Tutmosis.

"Stupidity! the Phoenicians!" continued the prince, as if to himself. "The Phoenicians, the Philistines, the Arabs, the Libyans, even the Ethiopians seem, as it were, members of our own family. When they fail to pay tribute, we are angry; when they pay, we forget our feeling.

"But the Assyrians are something strange, something inimical, so that I shall not be happy till I can count one hundred thousand of their hands cut off by us."

Never had Tutmosis seen the prince in such a state of feeling.