Chapter 45

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.