"I will not go by this way," said he.

"Why not?" inquired the leech, with astonishment.

"Dost thou not remember, holy father, that at the end of that corridor is an opening in which a certain traitor was tortured to death without pity."

"Aha!" answered the leech. "There is an opening there into which we poured boiling pitch at command of Pentuer."

"And ye killed a man--"

The leech smiled. He was a kindly, gladsome person. So, observing the indignation of the prince, he said after some meditation,--

"It is not permitted to betray temple secrets. Of course, before each of the greater solemnities, we bring this to the mind of younger candidates."

His tone was so peculiar that Rameses required explanation.

"I cannot betray secrets," replied the leech; "but promise, worthiness, to hide a story in thy breast, and I will tell thee one."

Rameses promised. The leech gave this narrative:--

"A certain Egyptian priest, while visiting temples in the unbelieving land of Aram, met at one of them a man who seemed to him in good flesh and satisfied, though he wore wretched garments. 'Explain to me,' said the priest to the gladsome poor man, 'how it is that, though thou art indigent, thy body looks as though thou wert chief of this temple.'

"That man looked around then to see if any one were listening, and answered,--

"'I am fat, because my voice is very woful; hence I am a martyr at this temple. When people come to service here, I crawl into an opening and groan with all the strength that is in my body; for this they give me food abundantly throughout the year, and a large jug of beer every day when I am tortured.'

"Thus do they manage in the unbelieving land of Aram," said the leech, as he raised a finger to his lips, and added, "Remember, prince, what thou hast promised, and of boiling pitch in this place think whatever suits thee."

This story roused the prince anew; he felt relief because a man had not been killed in the temple, but all his earlier distrust of priests sprang into life again.

That they deluded simple people, he knew. He remembered the priests'

procession with the sacred bull Apis, while he was in their school.

The people were convinced that Apis led the priests, while every student saw that the divine beast went in whatever direction priests drove him.

Who could tell, therefore, that Pentuer's discourse was not intended for him, as that procession of Apis for the people? For that matter, it was easy to put on the ground beans of red or other colors, and also it was not difficult to arrange tableaux. How much more splendid were those exhibitions which he had seen, even the struggles of Set with Osiris, in which a number of hundreds of persons a.s.sisted. But in that case, too, did not the priests deceive people? That was given as a battle of the G.o.ds; meanwhile it was carried on by men in disguise.

In it Osiris perished, but the priest who represented Osiris came out as sound as a rhinoceros. What wonders did they not exhibit there!

Water rose; there were peals of thunder; the earth trembled and vomited fire. And that was all deception. Why should the exhibition made by Pentuer be true? Besides, the prince had discovered strong indications that they wished to deceive him. The man groaning underground and covered, as it were, with boiling pitch by the priests was deception. But let that pa.s.s. The prince had convinced himself frequently that Herhor did not want war; Mefres also did not want it.

Pentuer was the a.s.sistant of one of them, and the favorite of the other.

Such a struggle was taking place in the prince that it seemed to him at one time that he understood everything, at another that he was surrounded by darkness; now he was full of hope, and now he doubted everything. From hour to hour, from day to day, his soul rose and fell like the waters of the Nile in the course of its yearly changes.

Gradually, however, the prince recovered his balance, and when the time came to leave the temple, he had formulated certain views of the problem.

First of all, he understood clearly that Egypt needed more land and more people. Second, he believed that the simplest way to find men was a war with Asia. But Pentuer had proved to him that war could only heighten the disaster. A new question rose then,--did Pentuer speak the truth, or was he lying? If he spoke the truth, he plunged the prince in despair, for Rameses saw no means to raise the state except war. Unless war were made, Egypt would lose population yearly, and the treasury of the pharaoh would increase its debts till the whole process would end in some ghastly overthrow, perhaps even in the reign of the coming pharaoh.

"But if Pentuer lied? Why should he lie? Evidently because Herhor, Mefres, and the whole priestly corporation had persuaded him to act thus.

"But why did priests oppose war? What interests had they in opposing?

Every war brought immense profit to them and the pharaoh.

"But would the priests deceive him in an affair so far reaching? It is true that they deceived very often, but in small matters, not when it was a question of the future and the existence of the state. It was not possible to a.s.sert that they deceived always. Besides, they were the servants of the G.o.ds, and the guardians of great secrets." Spirits resided in their temples; of this Rameses convinced himself on the first night after he had come to that temple of Hator.

"But if the G.o.ds did not permit the uninitiated to approach their altars, if they watched so carefully over temples, why did they not watch over Egypt, which is the greatest of all temples?"

When some days later Rameses, after a solemn religious service, left the temple of Hator amid the blessings of the priests, two questions were agitating him,--

Could war with Asia really harm Egypt? Could the priests in this question be deceiving him, the heir to the throne?

CHAPTER XXIX

The prince journeyed on horseback in company with a number of officers to Pi-Bast, the famous capital of the province of Habu.

The month Paoni had pa.s.sed, Epiphi was beginning (April and May). The sun stood high, heralding the most violent season of heat for Egypt. A mighty wind from the desert had blown in repeatedly; men and beasts fell because of heat, and on fields and trees a gray dust had begun to settle under which vegetation was dying.

Roses had been harvested and turned into oil; wheat had been gathered as well as the second crop of clover. Well-sweeps and buckets moved with double energy, irrigating the earth with dirty water to fit it for new seed. Men had begun to gather grapes and figs. The Nile had fallen, water in ca.n.a.ls was low and of evil odor. Above the whole country a fine dust was borne along in a deluge of burning sun-rays.

In spite of this Prince Rameses rode on and felt gladsome. The life of a penitent in the temple had grown irksome; he yearned for feasts, uproar, and women.

Meanwhile the country, intersected with a net of ca.n.a.ls, though flat and monotonous, was pleasing. In the province of Habu lived people of another origin: not the old Egyptians, but descendants of the valiant Hyksos, who on a time had conquered Egypt and governed that land for a number of generations.

The old Egyptians despised this remnant of a conquering race expelled from power afterward, but Rameses looked on them with satisfaction.

They were large and strong, their bearing was proud, and there was manly energy in their faces. They did not fall prostrate before the prince and his officers, like Egyptians, but looked at him without dislike, but also without timidity. Neither were their shoulders covered with scars from beating; the scribes respected them because they knew that if a Hyksos were beaten he would return the blows, and might kill the man who gave them. Moreover the Hyksos enjoyed the pharaoh's favor, for their people furnished the choicest warriors.

As the retinue of the heir approached Pi-Bast, whose temples and palaces were visible through the haze of dust, as through a veil of muslin, the neighborhood grew more active. Along the broad highway and the ca.n.a.ls men were taking to market cattle, wheat, fruit, wine, flowers, bread, and a mult.i.tude of other articles of daily consumption. The torrent of people and goods moving toward the city was as noisy and dense as that outside Memphis in the holiday season.

Around Pi-Bast reigned throughout the whole year the uproar of a market-day, which ceased only in the night time.

The cause of this was simple. In that city stood the renowned and ancient temple of Astarte. This temple was revered throughout Western Asia and attracted throngs of pilgrims. It could be said without exaggeration that outside Pi-Bast thirty thousand strangers camped daily,--Arabs, Phnicians, Jews, Philistines, Hitt.i.tes, a.s.syrians, and others. The Egyptian government bore itself kindly toward these pilgrims, who brought it a considerable income; the priests endured them, and the people of neighboring provinces carried on an active trade with them.

For the s.p.a.ce of an hour's journey from Pi-Bast the mud huts and tents of strangers covered the open country. As one neared the city, those huts increased in number and transient inhabitants swarmed more and more densely around them. Some were preparing food under the open sky, others were purchasing provisions which came in continually, still others were going in procession to the temple. Here and there were large crowds before places of amus.e.m.e.nt, where beast-tamers, serpent-charmers, athletes, female dancers, and jugglers exhibited their adroitness.

Above all this mult.i.tude of people were heat and uproar.

Before the gate of the city Rameses was greeted by his court and by the nomarch of Habu surrounded by his officials. But the greeting, despite cordiality, was so cold that the astonished viceroy whispered to Tutmosis,--

"What does this mean, that he looks on me as if I had come to measure out punishment?"

"Because thou hast the face of a man who has been a.s.sociating with divinity."

He spoke truth. Whether because of ascetic life, or the society of priests, or of long meditation, the prince had changed greatly. He had grown thin, his complexion had darkened, and in his face and bearing much dignity was evident. In the course of weeks he had grown some years older.

On one of the main streets of the city there was such a dense throng of people that the police had to open a way for the heir and his retinue. But these people did not greet the prince; they had merely gathered around a small palace as if waiting for some person.

"What is this?" asked Rameses of the nomarch, for this indifference of the throng touched the prince disagreeably.

"Here dwells Hiram," answered the nomarch, "a prince of Tyre, a man of great charity. Every day he distributes bountiful alms, therefore poor people rush to him."