Chapter 39

THE priestess brought little happiness to the viceroy. When he came the first time to visit her in the villa occupied recently by Sarah, he thought: "I shall be met with delight now and gratitude."

Meanwhile Kama received him almost with anger.

"What is this?" cried she. "A half day has passed, and that wretched Jewess is restored to thy favor."

"Does she not dwell in the servants' house?" asked the prince.

"But my steward says that she will wash my feet no longer."

When the prince heard this, a feeling of disgust seized him.

"Thou art not satisfied, I see," said he.

"I shall not be satisfied till I humiliate that Jewess," cried Kama, "till she, by serving me and kneeling at my feet, forgets that she was once thy first woman and the mistress of this villa. I shall not be satisfied till my servants cease to look at me with fear and without confidence, and on her with compassion."

The Phoenician woman was less and less pleasing to Ramses.

"Kama," said he, "consider what I tell thee: If a servant here were to kick in the teeth a female dog that was suckling its young, I should hunt that servant out of this villa. Thou hast struck with thy foot between the eyes a woman and a mother. In Egypt mother is a great word. A good Egyptian reverences three things beyond all others, the gods, the pharaoh, and his own mother."

"Oh, woe to me!" cried Kama, throwing herself on the couch. "Here is my reward, wretched woman, for denying my goddess. One week ago men placed flowers at my feet and burnt incense before me, but today."

The prince walked out of the chamber quietly, and saw the priestess again only after some days had passed.

But she was still in evil humor.

"I implore thee, lord," cried she, "think a little more of me. My servants even begin to contemn me, the warriors look at me with a frown, and I am afraid that some one in the kitchen may poison the food prepared for me."

"I was occupied with the army, so I could not visit thee," replied the viceroy.

"That is untrue," answered Kama, in anger. "Yesterday Thou wert outside the entrance to this house, and then Thou didst go to the servants' house, where dwells the Jewess. Thou didst this to show."

"Enough!" interrupted the prince. "I was neither here nor at the servants' house. If it seemed to thee that Thou wert looking at me, that means that thy lover, that worthless Greek, not only has not left Egypt, but even dares to wander through my garden."

The Phoenician woman heard him with fright.

"Astaroth!" cried she, suddenly. "Save me! Hide me, O earth! for if that wretch Lykon returns mighty misfortune is threatening me."

The prince laughed, but he had not patience to listen to the complaints of the ex-priestess.

"Be at rest," said he, when going, "and wonder not if after some days men bring in thy Lykon bound like a jackal. That insolent ruffian has worn out my patience."

On returning to his palace the prince summoned Hiram and the chief of police in Pi-Bast. He told them that Lykon, the Greek with a face resembling his, was prowling around among the palaces, and he gave command to seize him. Hiram swore that if Phoenicians helped the police the Greek would be taken. But the chief shook his head.

"Dost doubt?" asked the prince.

"Yes, lord. In Pi-Bast dwell many pious Asiatics who think the priestess worthy of death because she deserted the altar. If this Greek has bound himself to kill Kama, they will help him, they will conceal the man, and facilitate flight for him."

"What is thy answer to this?" asked the heir of Hiram.

"The worthy master of the palace speaks wisely," replied the old Phoenician.

"But ye have freed Kama from the curse."

"I guarantee that Phoenicians will not touch Kama, and will pursue the Greek. But what is to be done with the other adherents of Astaroth?"

"I make bold to think," said the chief, "that nothing threatens this woman at present. If she had courage, we might employ her to decoy the Greek, and seize him here in thy palaces, O Erpatr."

"Then go to her," said the prince, "and lay before her whatever plan Thou mayst think out. And if Thou seize the man, I will give thee ten talents."

When the heir left them, Hiram said to the chief,

"Dignitary, I am aware that Thou knowest both kinds of writing, and that the wisdom of priests is not strange to thee. When Thou hast the wish, Thou art able to hear through walls and see things in darkness. For this reason Thou knowest the thoughts of the man who works with a bucket, the laborer, the artisan who takes sandals to market, the great lord who in the escort of his servants feels as safe as a child on the bosom of its mother."

"Thou speakest truth," replied the official. "The gods have given me a wonderful gift of clear insight."

"That is it; thanks to thy gifts, Thou hast guessed beyond doubt that the temple of Astaroth will appoint to thee twenty talents if Thou seize that wretch who dares assume the appearance of the prince, our viceroy. Besides, in every case, the temple offers thee ten talents if news of the likeness of the wretched Lykon to the heir is not reported throughout Egypt; for it is offensive and improper that an ordinary mortal should recall by his features a personage descended from divinity."

"Therefore let not that which Thou hearest of the wretched Lykon go beyond our own hearts, nor any word touching our chase after that godless outcast."

"I understand," replied the official. "It may even happen that such a criminal may lose his life before we can give him to the court."

"Thou hast said it," replied Hiram, pressing his hand; "and every help asked by thee of Phoenicians will be furnished."

They parted like two friends who were hunting a wild beast, and knew that the problem was not that their spear should strike, but that the beast should drop in its tracks and not go into other hands.

After some days Ramses visited Kama again, but found her in a state touching on insanity. She hid herself in the darkest room of the villa; she was hungry, her hair was not dressed, she was even unwashed. She gave the most contradictory commands to her servants; at one time she ordered all to come to her, at another she sent all away. In the night she summoned the guard of warriors, and fled to the highest chamber soon after, crying out that they wished to kill her.

In view of these actions all desire vanished from the prince's soul, and there remained simply a feeling of great trouble. He seized his head when the steward of the palace and the officer told him of these wonders, and he whispered:

"Indeed, I did badly in taking that woman from her goddess; for the goddess alone could endure her caprices with patience."

He went, however, to Kama, and found her emaciated, broken, and trembling.

"Woe to me!" cried she. "There are none around me but enemies. My tirewoman wishes to poison me; my hairdresser to give me some dreadful disease. The warriors are waiting an opportunity to bury swords and spears in my bosom; I am sure that instead of food, they prepare for me magic herbs in the kitchen. All are rising up to destroy me."

"Kama!" interrupted the prince.

"Call me not by that name!" whispered she; "it will bring me misfortune."

"But how do these ideas come to thee?"

"How? Dost Thou think that in the daytime I do not see strange people who appear at the palace and vanish before I can call in my servants? And in the night do I not hear people outside the wall whispering?"

"It seems so to thee."

"Cursed! Cursed!" cried Kama, weeping. "Ye all say that it seems to me. But the day before yesterday some criminal hand threw into my bedchamber a veil, which I wore half a day before I saw that it was not mine and that I had never worn a veil like it."

"Where is that veil?" inquired the prince, now alarmed.

"I burned it, but I showed it first to my servants."

"If not thine even, what harm could come of it?"

"Nothing yet. But had I kept that rag in the house two days longer, I should have been poisoned, or caught some incurable disorder. I know Asiatics and their methods."

Wearied and irritated, the prince left her at the earliest, in spite of entreaties to stay. When he asked the servants about that veil, the tirewoman declared that it was not one of Kama's; some person had thrown it into the chamber.

The prince commanded to double the watch at the villa and around it, and returned in desperation to his dwelling.

"Never should I have believed," said he, "that a single weak woman could bring so much trouble. Four freshly caught hyenas are not so restless as that Kama!"

At his palace the prince found Tutmosis, who had just returned from Memphis and had barely taken time to bathe and dress after the journey.

"What hast Thou to say?" inquired the prince of his favorite, divining that he had not brought pleasant tidings. "Hast Thou seen his holiness?"

"I saw the sun-god of Egypt, and this is what he said to me."

"Speak," hurried Ramses.

"Thus spoke our lord," answered Tutmosis, crossing his arms on his breast: "For four and thirty years have I directed the weighty car of Egypt, and I am so wearied that I yearn to join my mighty forefathers who dwell now in the western kingdom. Soon I shall leave this earth, and then my son, Ramses, will sit on the throne, and do with the state what wisdom points out to him."

"Did my holy father speak thus?"

"Those are his words repeated faithfully. A number of times the lord spoke explicitly, saying that he would leave no command to thee, so that Thou mightst govern Egypt as thy wishes indicate."

"Ob, holy one! Is his illness really serious? Why did he not summon me?" asked the prince, in sorrow.

"Thou must be here, for Thou mayst be of service in this part of Egypt."

"But the treaty with Assyria?"

"It is concluded in this sense, that Assyria may wage war on the east and north without hindrance from Egypt. But the question of Phoenicia remains in abeyance till Thou art the pharaoh."

"O blessed! O holy ruler! From what a dreadful heritage Thou hast saved me."

"So Phoenicia remains in abeyance," continued Tutmosis. "But still there is one bad thing. His holiness, to show Assyria that he will not hinder her in the war against northern peoples, has commanded to decrease our army by twenty thousand mercenaries."

"What dost Thou tell me!" cried the heir, astounded.

Tutmosis shook his head in sign of sorrow.

"I speak the truth, and four Libyan regiments are now disbanded."

"But this is madness!" almost howled the heir, wringing his hands. "Why have we so weakened ourselves, and whither will those disbanded men go?"

"They have gone to the Libyan desert already, and will either attack the Libyans, which will cause us trouble, or will join them and both will attack then our western border."

"I have heard nothing of this! What did they do, and when did they do it? No news reached us!" cried Ramses.

"The disbanded troops went to the desert from Memphis, and Herhor forbade to mention this news to any person."

"Do neither Mefres nor Mentezufis know of this matter?"

"They know."

"They know, and I do not."

The prince grew calm on a sudden, but he was pale, and on his young face was depicted terrible hatred. He seized both hands of his favorite, pressed them firmly, and whispered,

"Hear me! By the sacred heads of my father and mother, by the memory of Ramses the Great by all the gods, if there are any, I swear that during my rule if the priests will not bow down before me I will crush them."

Tutmosis listened in alarm.

"I or they!" finished the prince. "Egypt cannot have two lords."

"Formerly it had only one, the pharaoh," added Tutmosis.

"Then Thou wilt be loyal to me?"

"I, all the nobles, and the army, I swear to thee."

"Enough!" concluded Ramses. "Let them discharge the mercenary regiments, let them sign treaties, let them hide before me like bats, and let them deceive us all. But the time will come And now, Tutmosis, rest after the journey; be with me at the feast this evening. Those people have so bound me that I can only amuse myself. Then let me amuse myself. But in time I will show them who the ruler of Egypt is, they or I."

From that day feasts began again. The prince, as if ashamed to meet the army, was not present at drills. Still, his palace was swarming with nobles, officers, jugglers, and singers, while at night great orgies took place, at which the sound of harps mingled with the drunken shouts of guests and the spasmodic laughter of women.

Ramses invited Kama to one of these feasts, but she refused.

The prince was offended. Seeing this, Tutmosis said,

"They have told me, lord, that Sarah has lost thy favor."

"Do not mention that Jewess to me," replied Ramses. "But dost Thou know what she did with my son?"

"I know; but that, it seems to me, was not her fault. I heard in Memphis that thy worthy mother and the worthy minister Herhor made thy son a Jew, so that he might rule over Israelites sometime."

"But the Israelites have no king, only priests and judges," interrupted the prince.

"They have not, but they wish to have. They, too, are disgusted with priestly rule."

The heir waved his hand contemptuously.

"A charioteer of his holiness means more than any king, especially any king of the Israelites, who as yet have no kingdom."

"In every case, Sarah's fault is not so great," put in Tutmosis.

"Then know that I will pay the priests sometime."

"They are not to blame so greatly. For instance, the worthy Herhor did this to increase the glory and power of thy dynasty. And he did it with the knowledge of thy mother."

"But why does Mefres interfere? His single duty is to care for the temple, not influence the fate of the pharaoh's descendants."

"Mefres is an old man growing whimsical. The whole court of his holiness jeers at him because of practices, of which I know nothing, though I see the holy man almost daily."

"This is curious. What does he do?"

"A number of times during twenty-four hours he performs solemn services in the most secret parts of the temple, and he commands the priests to see if the gods do not hold him suspended while praying."

"Ha! ha!" laughed Ramses. "And all this is going on in Pi-Bast here under our eyes, and I do not know of it?"

"A priestly secret."

"A secret of which all in Memphis are talking! Ha! ha! ha! In the amphitheatre I saw a Chaldean suspended in the air."

"I saw him too; but that was a trick, while Mefres wishes to be borne above the earth really on the wings of his devotion."

"Unheard-of buffoonery! What do the other priests say to this?"

"Perhaps in our sacred papyruses there is mention that in old times there were prophets among us who had the gift of suspending themselves in the air; so the desires of Mefres do not astonish priests nowadays. And since, as is known to thee, subordinates among us see whatever pleases superiors, some holy men claim that during prayer Mefres really rises a couple of fingers high above the pavement."

"Ha! ha! ha! And with this great secret the whole court is occupied, and we, like laborers or earth-diggers, do not even suspect that miracles are wrought at one side of us. A wretched fate to be heir to the throne of Egypt!" laughed the viceroy.

When he grew calm, at the repeated request of Tutmosis, he commanded to transfer Sarah from the servants' house to Kama's first villa. The servants were delighted at this change; all the serving and slave women, and even the scribes conducted Sarah to her new dwelling with music and shouts of pleasure.

The Phoenician woman, when she heard the uproar, asked the reason; and when they told her that Sarah had been restored to the favor of the prince, and that from the servants' house she had been transferred to the villa, the enraged ex-priestess sent for Ramses.

The prince came.

"Dost Thou treat me in this way?" screamed she, losing control of her temper. "Thou didst promise that I should be thy first woman, but before the moon traversed half the heavens thy promise was broken. Perhaps Thou thinkest that the vengeance of Astaroth will fall on the priestess alone, and not reach to princes."

"Tell thy Astaroth," replied Ramses, calmly, "not to threaten princes, or she may go herself to the servants' house."

"I understand!" exclaimed Kama. "I shall go to the servants' house, perhaps even to prison, while Thou wilt spend nights with thy Jewess. Because I have left the gods for thee I have drawn down a curse on my own head. Because I left them I know no rest for a moment; I have lost my youth for thee, my life, my soul even, and this is the pay which Thou givest me."

The prince confessed in his heart that Kama had sacrificed much for him, and he felt compunction.

"I have not been and shall not be with Sarah," said he. "But does it harm thee that the ill-fated woman has some comfort and can nourish her child unmolested?"

Kama trembled. She raised her clinched fist, her hair stirred, and in her eyes an ugly fire of hate was flashing.

"Is this the answer which Thou givest me? The Jewess is unhappy because Thou didst drive her from the villa, and I must be satisfied, though the gods have driven me out of their temples. But my soul the soul of a priestess who is drowning in tears and in terror does not mean more for thee than that brat of the Jew woman this child, which, would he were dead may he."

"Silence!" cried the prince, shutting her mouth.

She drew back frightened.

"Then may I not even complain of my wretchedness?" inquired she. "But if Thou art so careful of that child, why steal me from the temple, why promise that I should be first in thy household? Have a care," continued she, raising her voice again, "that Egypt, after learning my fate, may not call thee a faith-breaker."

The prince turned his head and laughed. But he sat down, and said,

"My teacher was right, indeed, when he warned me against women: Ye are like ripe peaches in the eyes of a man whose tongue thirst has parched, but peaches ripe only in appearance. Woe to the fool who dares bite that fruit of fair seeming; instead of cooling sweetness he will find a nest of wasps that will sting not his lips alone, but his heart also."

"Wilt Thou complain? Wilt Thou not spare me even this shame after I have sacrificed to thee both my dignity of priestess and my virtue?"

The heir shook his head and smiled.

"Never could I have thought," said he, after a while, "that the story told by laborers before bedtime could have come true. But today I see the truth of it. Listen to me, Kama; perhaps Thou wilt stop, and not force me to withdraw the goodwill which I have for thee."

"He wishes now to tell a fable!" said the priestess, bitterly. "Thou hast told me one already, and I was profited by hearing it."

"This will profit thee if Thou understand it."

"Will there be anything about Jewish brats in it?"

"Of priestesses there will be; only listen carefully.

"The following thing happened here long ago, in Pi-Bast: [A true story.]

"Once Prince Satni, on the square before the temple of Ptah, saw a very beautiful woman. She surpassed all whom he had met before, and, what was more noteworthy, she had much gold on her person.

"She pleased the prince greatly, and when he learned that she was the daughter of the high priest, he sent his equerry to her with the following offer,

"'I will give thee gold rings if Thou wilt pass one short hour in my company.'

"The equerry went to the beautiful Tbubui and repeated the words of Prince Satni. When she had listened to him politely, she answered as became a well-bred young lady,

"'I am the daughter of a high priest; I am innocent, no low girl. So, if the prince wishes to have the pleasure of knowing me, let him come to my house, where everything will be ready, and where acquaintance with him will not expose me to the scandal of all the street gossips.'

"Prince Satni went to Tbubui's chambers, the walls of which were covered with lapis lazuli and pale green enamel. There were also many couches decked with regal linen, and not a few one-legged tables on which gold goblets were standing. One of these goblets was filled with wine and given to the prince, while Tbubui said to him, 'Be gracious, and drink.' To this the prince answered, 'Thou knowest that I have not come to drink wine here.' Still the two sat down at the feast, during which Tbubui wore a long, heavy robe fastened at her neck closely. When the prince, excited by wine, wished to kiss her, she repelled him, and answered,

"'This house will be thine. But remember that I am no street woman, but an innocent maiden. If Thou wish from me obedience, swear faith, and convey to me thy property.'

"'Let the scribe come!' cried the prince. When they brought in the scribe, Satni commanded him to write an act of betrothal, also a deed by which he transferred to Tbubui all his money, and all his property, personal and real.

"An hour later the servants announced to the prince that his children were waiting in the lower story. Tbubui left him then, but returned soon, attired in a transparent gauze robe. Satni wished again to embrace her, but she repelled him a second time, saying: 'This house will be thine. But, since I am no common woman, but an innocent maiden, if Thou wish to possess me, let thy children renounce every claim, lest they raise lawsuits hereafter with my children.'

"Satni called up his children, and commanded them to sign an act renouncing all claim to his possessions. They did so. But when, roused by long resistance, he approached Tbubui, she repelled him, saying,

"'This house will be thine. But I am no chance passing woman, I am a pure maiden. If Thou love me, give consent to kill those children lest they take property from my children.'"

"This is rather a long story," said Kama, impatiently.

"It will end right away. And dost Thou know, Kama, what Satni replied to this: 'If Thou wish, let the crime be accomplished.' Tbubui gave no chance to have these words said a second time. Before their father's eyes she commanded to kill the children, and throw their bloody limbs to dogs and cats outside the windows. Only after that did Satni enter her chamber and repose on her bed, inlaid with ivory."

"Tbubui did well not to trust to men's promises," said the irritated Kama.

"But Satni," said the heir, "did better. He woke, for his dreadful crime was a dream only. And remember this, Kama, the surest way to rouse a man from love's intoxication is to curse his son."

"Be at rest, lord," said Kama, gloomily, "I will never mention hereafter thy son or my sorrow."

"And I will not withdraw my favor from thee, and Thou wilt be happy," said Ramses, in conclusion.