"You ought to know!" cried a small voice, that sounded mockingly behind
the feasters.
They looked and laughed when they recognized the strange guest, who had
approached them unobserved.
The new comer was a deformed little man about as big as a five-year-old
boy, with a big head and oldish but uncommonly sharply-cut features.
The noblest Egyptians kept house-dwarfs for sport, and this little wight
served the wife of Mena in this capacity. He was called Nemu, or "the
dwarf," and his sharp tongue made him much feared, though he was
a favorite, for he passed for a very clever fellow and was a good
tale-teller.
"Make room for me, my lords," said the little man. "I take very little
room, and your beer and roast is in little danger from me, for my maw is
no bigger than a fly's head."
"But your gall is as big as that of a Nile-horse," cried the cook.
"It grows," said the dwarf laughing, "when a turn-spit and spoon-wielder
like you turns up. There--I will sit here."
"You are welcome," said the steward, "what do you bring?"
"Myself."
"Then you bring nothing great."
"Else I should not suit you either!" retorted the dwarf. "But seriously,
my lady mother, the noble Katuti, and the Regent, who just now is
visiting us, sent me here to ask you whether Paaker is not yet returned.
He accompanied the princess and Nefert to the City of the Dead, and the
ladies are not yet come in. We begin to be anxious, for it is already
late."
The steward looked up at the starry sky and said: "The moon is already
tolerably high, and my lord meant to be home before sun-down."
"The meal was ready," sighed the cook. "I shall have to go to work again
if he does not remain all night."
"How should he?" asked the steward. "He is with the princess Bent-Anat."
"And my mistress," added the dwarf.
"What will they say to each other," laughed gardener; "your chief
litter-bearer declared that yesterday on the way to the City of the Dead
they did not speak a word to each other."
"Can you blame the lord if he is angry with the lady who was betrothed
to him, and then was wed to another? When I think of the moment when he
learnt Nefert's breach of faith I turn hot and cold."
"Care the less for that," sneered the dwarf, "since you must be hot in
summer and cold in winter."
"It is not evening all day," cried the head groom. "Paaker never forgets
an injury, and we shall live to see him pay Mena--high as he is--for the
affront he has offered him.
"My lady Katuti," interrupted Nemu, "stores up the arrears of her
son-in-law."
"Besides, she has long wished to renew the old friendship with your
house, and the Regent too preaches peace. Give me a piece of bread,
steward. I am hungry!"
"The sacks, into which Mena's arrears flow seem to be empty," laughed
the cook.
"Empty! empty! much like your wit!" answered the dwarf. "Give me a bit
of roast meat, steward; and you slaves bring me a drink of beer."
"You just now said your maw was no bigger than a fly's head," cried the
cook, "and now you devour meat like the crocodiles in the sacred tank of
Seeland. You must come from a world of upside-down, where the men are as
small as flies, and the flies as big as the giants of the past."
"Yet, I might be much bigger," mumbled the dwarf while he munched on
unconcernedly, "perhaps as big as your spite which grudges me the
third bit of meat, which the steward--may Zefa bless him with great
possessions--is cutting out of the back of the antelope."
"There, take it, you glutton, but let out your girdle," said the steward
laughing, "I had cut the slice for myself, and admire your sharp nose."
"All noses," said the dwarf, "they teach the knowing better than any
haruspex what is inside a man."
"How is that?" cried the gardener.
"Only try to display your wisdom," laughed the steward; "for, if you
want to talk, you must at last leave off eating."
"The two may be combined," said the dwarf. "Listen then! A hooked nose,
which I compare to a vulture's beak, is never found together with a
submissive spirit. Think of the Pharaoh and all his haughty race. The
Regent, on the contrary, has a straight, well-shaped, medium-sized nose,
like the statue of Amon in the temple, and he is an upright soul, and as
good as the Gods. He is neither overbearing nor submissive beyond just
what is right; he holds neither with the great nor yet with the mean,
but with men of our stamp. There's the king for us!"
"A king of noses!" exclaimed the cook, "I prefer the eagle Rameses. But
what do you say to the nose of your mistress Nefert?"
"It is delicate and slender and moves with every thought like the leaves
of flowers in a breath of wind, and her heart is exactly like it."
"And Paaker?" asked the head groom.
"He has a large short nose with wide open nostrils. When Seth whirls up
the sand, and a grain of it flies up his nose, he waxes angry--so it
is Paaker's nose, and that only, which is answerable for all your blue
bruises. His mother Setchem, the sister of my lady Katuti, has a little
roundish soft--"
"You pigmy," cried the steward interrupting the speaker, "we have fed
you and let you abuse people to your heart's content, but if you wag
your sharp tongue against our mistress, I will take you by the girdle
and fling you to the sky, so that the stars may remain sticking to your
crooked hump."
At these words the dwarf rose, turned to go, and said indifferently: "I
would pick the stars carefully off my back, and send you the finest of
the planets in return for your juicy bit of roast. But here come the
chariots. Farewell! my lords, when the vulture's beak seizes one of
you and carries you off to the war in Syria, remember the words of the
little Nemu who knows men and noses."
The pioneer's chariot rattled through the high gates into the court of
his house, the dogs in their leashes howled joyfully, the head groom
hastened towards Paaker and took the reins in his charge, the steward
accompanied him, and the head cook retired into the kitchen to make
ready a fresh meal for his master.
Before Paaker had reached the garden-gate, from the pylon of the
enormous temple of Amon, was heard first the far-sounding clang of
hard-struck plates of brass, and then the many-voiced chant of a solemn
hymn.
The Mohar stood still, looked up to heaven, called to his servants--"The
divine star Sothis is risen!" threw himself on the earth, and lifted his
wards the star in prayer.
The slaves and officers immediately followed his example.
No circumstance in nature remained unobserved by the priestly guides of
the Egyptian people. Every phenomenon on earth or in the starry heavens
was greeted by them as the manifestation of a divinity, and they
surrounded the life of the inhabitants of the Nile-valley--from
morning to evening--from the beginning of the inundation to the days
of drought--with a web of chants and sacrifices, of processions and
festivals, which inseparably knit the human individual to the Divinity
and its earthly representatives the priesthood.
For many minutes the lord and his servants remained on their knees in
silence, their eyes fixed on the sacred star, and listening to the pious
chant of the priests.
As it died away Paaker rose. All around him still lay on the earth;
only one naked figure, strongly lighted by the clear moonlight, stood
motionless by a pillar near the slaves' quarters.
The pioneer gave a sign, the attendants rose; but Paaker went with hasty
steps to the man who had disdained the act of devotion, which he had so
earnestly performed, and cried:
"Steward, a hundred strokes on the soles of the feet of this scoffer."
The officer thus addressed bowed and said: "My lord, the surgeon
commanded the mat-weaver not to move and he cannot lift his arm. He is
suffering great pain. Thou didst break his collar-bone yesterday.
"It served him right!" said Paaker, raising his voice so much that the
injured man could not fail to hear it. Then he turned his back upon him,
and entered the garden; here he called the chief butler, and said: "Give
the slaves beer for their night draught--to all of them, and plenty."
A few minutes later he stood before his mother, whom he found on the
roof of the house, which was decorated with leafy plants, just as she
gave her two-years'-old grand daughter, the child of her youngest son,
into the arms of her nurse, that she might take her to bed.
Paaker greeted the worthy matron with reverence. She was a woman of a
friendly, homely aspect; several little dogs were fawning at her feet.
Her son put aside the leaping favorites of the widow, whom they amused
through many long hours of loneliness, and turned to take the child in
his arms from those of the attendant. But the little one struggled with
such loud cries, and could not be pacified, that Paaker set it down on
the ground, and involuntarily exclaimed:
"The naughty little thing!"
"She has been sweet and good the whole afternoon," said his mother
Setchem. "She sees you so seldom."
"May be," replied Paaker; "still I know this--the dogs love me, but no
child will come to me."
"You have such hard hands."
"Take the squalling brat away," said Paaker to the nurse. "Mother, I
want to speak to you."
Setchem quieted the child, gave it many kisses, and sent it to bed; then
she went up to her son, stroked his cheeks, and said:
"If the little one were your own, she would go to you at once, and teach
you that a child is the greatest blessing which the Gods bestow on us
mortals." Paaker smiled and said: "I know what you are aiming at--but
leave it for the present, for I have something important to communicate
to you."
"Well?" asked Setchem.
"To-day for the first time since--you know when, I have spoken to
Nefert. The past may be forgotten. You long for your sister; go to her,
I have nothing more to say against it."
Setchem looked at her son with undisguised astonishment; her eyes which
easily filled with tears, now overflowed, and she hesitatingly asked:
"Can I believe my ears; child, have you?--"
"I have a wish," said Paaker firmly, "that you should knit once more the
old ties of affection with your relations; the estrangement has lasted
long enough."
"Much too long!" cried Setchem.
The pioneer looked in silence at the ground, and obeyed his mother's
sign to sit down beside her.
"I knew," she said, taking his hand, "that this day would bring us joy;
for I dreamt of your father in Osiris, and when I was being carried
to the temple, I was met, first by a white cow, and then by a wedding
procession. The white ram of Anion, too, touched the wheat-cakes that
I offered him."--[It boded death to Germanicus when the Apis refused to
eat out of his hand.]
"Those are lucky presages," said Paaker in a tone of conviction.
"And let us hasten to seize with gratitude that which the Gods set
before us," cried Setchem with joyful emotion. "I will go to-morrow to
my sister and tell her that we shall live together in our old affection,
and share both good and evil; we are both of the same race, and I know
that, as order and cleanliness preserve a house from ruin and rejoice
the stranger, so nothing but unity can keep up the happiness of the
family and its appearance before people. What is bygone is bygone, and
let it be forgotten. There are many women in Thebes besides Nefert, and
a hundred nobles in the land would esteem themselves happy to win you
for a son-in-law."
Paaker rose, and began thoughtfully pacing the broad space, while
Setchem went on speaking.
"I know," she said, "that I have touched a wound in thy heart; but it
is already closing, and it will heal when you are happier even than the
charioteer Mena, and need no longer hate him. Nefert is good, but she
is delicate and not clever, and scarcely equal to the management of
so large a household as ours. Ere long I too shall be wrapped in
mummy-cloths, and then if duty calls you into Syria some prudent
housewife must take my place. It is no small matter. Your grandfather
Assa often would say that a house well-conducted in every detail was
a mark of a family owning an unspotted name, and living with wise
liberality and secure solidity, in which each had his assigned place,
his allotted duty to fulfil, and his fixed rights to demand. How often
have I prayed to the Hathors that they may send you a wife after my own
heart."
"A Setchem I shall never find!" said Paaker kissing his mother's
forehead, "women of your sort are dying out."
"Flatterer!" laughed Setchem, shaking her finger at her son. But it is
true. Those who are now growing up dress and smarten themselves with
stuffs from Kaft,--[Phoenicia]--mix their language with Syrian words,
and leave the steward and housekeeper free when they themselves ought to
command. Even my sister Katuti, and Nefert--
"Nefert is different from other women," interrupted Paaker, "and if you
had brought her up she would know how to manage a house as well as how
to ornament it."
Setchem looked at her son in surprise; then she said, half to herself:
"Yes, yes, she is a sweet child; it is impossible for any one to be
angry with her who looks into her eyes. And yet I was cruel to her
because you were hurt by her, and because--but you know. But now you
have forgiven, I forgive her, willingly, her and her husband."
Paaker's brow clouded, and while he paused in front of his mother he
said with all the peculiar harshness of his voice:
"He shall pine away in the desert, and the hyaenas of the North shall
tear his unburied corpse."
At these words Setchem covered her face with her veil, and clasped her
hands tightly over the amulets hanging round her neck. Then she said
softly:
"How terrible you can be! I know well that you hate the charioteer,
for I have seen the seven arrows over your couch over which is written
'Death to Mena.'
"That is a Syrian charm which a man turns against any one whom he
desires to destroy. How black you look! Yes, it is a charm that is
hateful to the Gods, and that gives the evil one power over him that
uses it. Leave it to them to punish the criminal, for Osiris withdraws
his favor from those who choose the fiend for their ally."
"My sacrifices," replied Paaker, "secure me the favor of the Gods; but
Mena behaved to me like a vile robber, and I only return to him the evil
that belongs to him. Enough of this! and if you love me, never again
utter the name of my enemy before me. I have forgiven Nefert and her
mother--that may satisfy you."
Setchem shook her head, and said: "What will it lead to! The war cannot
last for ever, and if Mena returns the reconciliation of to-day will
turn to all the more bitter enmity. I see only one remedy. Follow my
advice, and let me find you a wife worthy of you."
"Not now!" exclaimed Paaker impatiently. "In a few days I must go again
into the enemy's country, and do not wish to leave my wife, like
Mena, to lead the life of a widow during my existence. Why urge it? my
brother's wife and children are with you--that might satisfy you."
"The Gods know how I love them," answered Setchem; "but your brother
Horns is the younger, and you the elder, to whom the inheritance
belongs. Your little niece is a delightful plaything, but in your son I
should see at once the future stay of our race, the future head of the
family; brought up to my mind and your father's; for all is sacred to
me that my dead husband wished. He rejoiced in your early betrothal to
Nefert, and hoped that a son of his eldest son should continue the race
of Assa."
"It shall be by no fault of mine that any wish of his remains
unfulfilled. The stars are high, mother; sleep well, and if to-morrow
you visit Nefert and your sister, say to them that the doors of my house
are open to them. But stay! Katuti's steward has offered to sell a herd
of cattle to ours, although the stock on Mena's land can be but small.
What does this mean?"
"You know my sister," replied Setchem. "She manages Mena's possessions,
has many requirements, tries to vie with the greatest in splendor, sees
the governor often in her house, her son is no doubt extravagant--and so
the most necessary things may often be wanting."
Paaker shrugged his shoulders, once more embraced his mother and left
her.
Soon after, he was standing in the spacious room in which he was
accustomed to sit and to sleep when he was in Thebes. The walls of this
room were whitewashed and decorated with pious glyphic writing, which
framed in the door and the windows opening into the garden.
In the middle of the farther wall was a couch in the form of a lion. The
upper end of it imitated a lion's head, and the foot, its curling tail;
a finely dressed lion's skin was spread over the bell, and a headrest of
ebony, decorated with pious texts, stood on a high foot-step, ready for
the sleeper.
Above the bed various costly weapons and whips were elegantly displayed,
and below them the seven arrows over which Setchem had read the words
"Death to Mena." They were written across a sentence which enjoined
feeding the hungry, giving drink to the thirsty, and clothing the naked;
with loving-kindness, alike to the great and the humble.
A niche by the side of the bed-head was closed with a curtain of purple
stuff.
In each corner of the room stood a statue; three of them symbolized the
triad of Thebes-Anion, Muth, and Chunsu--and the fourth the dead father
of the pioneer. In front of each was a small altar for offerings, with
a hollow in it, in which was an odoriferous essence. On a wooden stand
were little images of the Gods and amulets in great number, and in
several painted chests lay the clothes, the ornaments and the papers
of the master. In the midst of the chamber stood a table and several
stool-shaped seats.
When Paaker entered the room he found it lighted with lamps, and a large
dog sprang joyfully to meet him. He let him spring upon him, threw him
to the ground, let him once more rush upon him, and then kissed his
clever head.
Before his bed an old negro of powerful build lay in deep sleep. Paaker
shoved him with his foot and called to him as he awoke--
"I am hungry."
The grey-headed black man rose slowly, and left the room.
As soon as he was alone Paaker drew the philter from his girdle, looked
at it tenderly, and put it in a box, in which there were several flasks
of holy oils for sacrifice. He was accustomed every evening to fill the
hollows in the altars with fresh essences, and to prostrate himself in
prayer before the images of the Gods. To-day he stood before the
statue of his father, kissed its feet, and murmured: "Thy will shall be
done.--The woman whom thou didst intend for me shall indeed be mine--thy
eldest son's."
Then he walked to and fro and thought over the events of the day.
At last he stood still, with his arms crossed, and looked defiantly at
the holy images; like a traveller who drives away a false guide, and
thinks to find the road by himself.
His eye fell on the arrows over his bed; he smiled, and striking his
broad breast with his fist, he exclaimed, "I--I--I--"
His hound, who thought his master meant to call him, rushed up to him.
He pushed him off and said--"If you meet a hyaena in the desert, you
fall upon it without waiting till it is touched by my lance--and if the
Gods, my masters, delay, I myself will defend my right; but thou," he
continued turning to the image of his father, "thou wilt support me."
This soliloquy was interrupted by the slaves who brought in his meal.
Paaker glanced at the various dishes which the cook had prepared for
him, and asked: "How often shall I command that not a variety, but only
one large dish shall be dressed for me? And the wine?"
"Thou art used never to touch it?" answered the old negro.
"But to-day I wish for some," said the pioneer. "Bring one of the old
jars of red wine of Kakem."
The slaves looked at each other in astonishment; the wine was brought,
and Paaker emptied beaker after beaker. When the servants had left him,
the boldest among them said: "Usually the master eats like a lion, and
drinks like a midge, but to-day--"
"Hold your tongue!" cried his companion, "and come into the court, for
Paaker has sent us out beer. The Hathors must have met him."
The occurrences of the day must indeed have taken deep hold on the
inmost soul of the pioneer; for he, the most sober of all the warriors
of Rameses, to whom intoxication was unknown, and who avoided the
banquets of his associates--now sat at the midnight hours, alone at his
table, and toped till his weary head grew heavy.
He collected himself, went towards his couch and drew the curtain which
concealed the niche at the head of the bed. A female figure, with
the head-dress and attributes of the Goddess Hathor, made of painted
limestone, revealed itself.
Her countenance had the features of the wife of Mena.
The king, four years since, had ordered a sculptor to execute a sacred
image with the lovely features of the newly-married bride of his
charioteer, and Paaker had succeeded in having a duplicate made.
He now knelt down on the couch, gazed on the image with moist eyes,
looked cautiously around to see if he was alone, leaned forward, pressed
a kiss to the delicate, cold stone lips; laid down and went to sleep
without undressing himself, and leaving the lamps to burn themselves
out.
Restless dreams disturbed his spirit, and when the dawn grew grey, he
screamed out, tormented by a hideous vision, so pitifully, that the old
negro, who had laid himself near the dog at the foot of his bed, sprang
up alarmed, and while the dog howled, called him by his name to wake
him.
Paaker awoke with a dull head-ache. The vision which had tormented him
stood vividly before his mind, and he endeavored to retain it that he
might summon a haruspex to interpret it. After the morbid fancies of the
preceding evening he felt sad and depressed.
The morning-hymn rang into his room with a warning voice from the temple
of Amon; he cast off evil thoughts, and resolved once more to resign the
conduct of his fate to the Gods, and to renounce all the arts of magic.
As he was accustomed, he got into the bath that was ready for him. While
splashing in the tepid water he thought with ever increasing eagerness
of Nefert and of the philter which at first he had meant not to offer to
her, but which actually was given to her by his hand, and which might by
this time have begun to exercise its charm.
Love placed rosy pictures--hatred set blood-red images before his eyes.
He strove to free himself from the temptations, which more and more
tightly closed in upon him, but it was with him as with a man who has
fallen into a bog, who, the more vehemently he tries to escape from the
mire, sinks the deeper.
As the sun rose, so rose his vital energy and his self-confidence, and
when he prepared to quit his dwelling, in his most costly clothing, he
had arrived once more at the decision of the night before, and had again
resolved to fight for his purpose, without--and if need were--against
the Gods.
The Mohar had chosen his road, and he never turned back when once he had
begun a journey.
CHAPTER IX.
It was noon: the rays of the sun found no way into the narrow shady
streets of the city of Thebes, but they blazed with scorching heat on
the broad dyke-road which led to the king's castle, and which at this
hour was usually almost deserted.
To-day it was thronged with foot-passengers and chariots, with riders
and litter-bearers.
Here and there negroes poured water on the road out of skins, but the
dust was so deep, that, in spite of this, it shrouded the streets and
the passengers in a dry cloud, which extended not only over the city,
but down to the harbor where the boats of the inhabitants of the
Necropolis landed their freight.
The city of the Pharaohs was in unwonted agitation, for the storm-swift
breath of rumor had spread some news which excited both alarm and hope
in the huts of the poor as well as in the palaces of the great.
In the early morning three mounted messengers had arrived from the
king's camp with heavy letter-bags, and had dismounted at the Regent's
palace.
[The Egyptians were great letter-writers, and many of their letters
have come down to us, they also had established postmen, and had a
word for them in their language "fai chat."]
As after a long drought the inhabitants of a village gaze up at the
black thunder-cloud that gathers above their heads promising the
refreshing rain--but that may also send the kindling lightning-flash or
the destroying hail-storm--so the hopes and the fears of the citizens
were centred on the news which came but rarely and at irregular
intervals from the scene of war; for there was scarcely a house in
the huge city which had not sent a father, a son, or a relative to the
fighting hosts of the king in the distant northeast.
And though the couriers from the camp were much oftener the heralds of
tears than of joy; though the written rolls which they brought told more
often of death and wounds than of promotion, royal favors, and conquered
spoil, yet they were expected with soul-felt longing and received with
shouts of joy.
Great and small hurried after their arrival to the Regent's palace, and
the scribes--who distributed the letters and read the news which was
intended for public communication, and the lists of those who had fallen
or perished--were closely besieged with enquirers.
Man has nothing harder to endure than uncertainty, and generally, when
in suspense, looks forward to bad rather than to good news. And the
bearers of ill ride faster than the messengers of weal.
The Regent Ani resided in a building adjoining the king's palace. His
business-quarters surrounded an immensely wide court, and consisted of
a great number of rooms opening on to this court, in which numerous
scribes worked with their chief. On the farther side was a large,
veranda-like hall open at the front, with a roof supported by pillars.
Here Ani was accustomed to hold courts of justice, and to receive
officers, messengers, and petitioners. To-day he sat, visible to all
comers, on a costly throne in this hall, surrounded by his numerous
followers, and overlooking the crowd of people whom the guardians of the
peace guided with long staves, admitting them in troops into the court
of the "High Gate," and then again conducting them out.
What he saw and heard was nothing joyful, for from each group
surrounding a scribe arose a cry of woe. Few and far between were those
who had to tell of the rich booty that had fallen to their friends.
An invisible web woven of wailing and tears seemed to envelope the
assembly.
Here men were lamenting and casting dust upon their heads, there women
were rending their clothes, shrieking loudly, and crying as they waved
their veils "oh, my husband! oh, my father! oh, my brother!"
Parents who had received the news of the death of their son fell on each
other's neck weeping; old men plucked out their grey hair and beard;
young women beat their forehead and breast, or implored the scribes
who read out the lists to let them see for themselves the name of the
beloved one who was for ever torn from them.
The passionate stirring of a soul, whether it be the result of joy or of
sorrow, among us moderns covers its features with a veil, which it had
no need of among the ancients.
Where the loudest laments sounded, a restless little being might be seen
hurrying from group to group; it was Nemu, Katuti's dwarf, whom we know.
Now he stood near a woman of the better class, dissolved in tears
because her husband had fallen in the last battle.
"Can you read?" he asked her; "up there on the architrave is the name
of Rameses, with all his titles. Dispenser of life,' he is called. Aye
indeed; he can create--widows; for he has all the husbands killed."
Before the astonished woman could reply, he stood by a man sunk in woe,
and pulling his robe, said "Finer fellows than your son have never been
seen in Thebes. Let your youngest starve, or beat him to a cripple,
else he also will be dragged off to Syria; for Rameses needs much good
Egyptian meat for the Syrian vultures."
The old man, who had hitherto stood there in silent despair, clenched
his fist. The dwarf pointed to the Regent, and said: "If he there
wielded the sceptre, there would be fewer orphans and beggars by the
Nile. To-day its sacred waters are still sweet, but soon it will taste
as salt as the north sea with all the tears that have been shed on its
banks."
It almost seemed as if the Regent had heard these words, for he rose
from his seat and lifted his hands like a man who is lamenting.
Many of the bystanders observed this action; and loud cries of anguish
filled the wide courtyard, which was soon cleared by soldiers to make
room for other troops of people who were thronging in.
While these gathered round the scribes, the Regent Ani sat with quiet
dignity on the throne, surrounded by his suite and his secretaries, and
held audiences.
He was a man at the close of his fortieth year and the favorite cousin
of the king.
Rameses I., the grandfather of the reigning monarch, had deposed the
legitimate royal family, and usurped the sceptre of the Pharaohs. He
descended from a Semitic race who had remained in Egypt at the time of
the expulsion of the Hyksos,
[These were an eastern race who migrated from Asia into Egypt,
conquered the lower Nile-valley, and ruled over it for nearly 500
years, till they were driven out by the successors of the old
legitimate Pharaohs, whose dominion had been confined to upper
Egypt.]
and had distinguished itself by warlike talents under Thotmes and
Amenophis. After his death he was succeeded by his son Seti, who
sought to earn a legitimate claim to the throne by marrying Tuaa, the
grand-daughter of Amenophis III. She presented him with an only son,
whom he named after his father Rameses. This prince might lay claim to
perfect legitimacy through his mother, who descended directly from the
old house of sovereigns; for in Egypt a noble family--even that of the
Pharaohs--might be perpetuated through women.
Seti proclaimed Rameses partner of his throne, so as to remove all doubt
as to the validity of his position. The young nephew of his wife Tuaa,
the Regent Ani, who was a few years younger than Rameses, he caused to
be brought up in the House of Seti, and treated him like his own son,
while the other members of the dethroned royal family were robbed of
their possessions or removed altogether.
Ani proved himself a faithful servant to Seti, and to his son, and was
trusted as a brother by the warlike and magnanimous Rameses, who however
never disguised from himself the fact that the blood in his own veins
was less purely royal than that which flowed in his cousin's.
It was required of the race of the Pharaohs of Egypt that it should be
descended from the Sun-god Ra, and the Pharaoh could boast of this high
descent only through his mother--Ani through both parents.
But Rameses sat on the throne, held the sceptre with a strong hand, and
thirteen young sons promised to his house the lordship over Egypt to all
eternity.
When, after the death of his warlike father, he went to fresh conquests
in the north, he appointed Ani, who had proved himself worthy as
governor of the province of Kush, to the regency of the kingdom.
A vehement character often over estimates the man who is endowed with
a quieter temperament, into whose nature he cannot throw himself, and
whose excellences he is unable to imitate; so it happened that the
deliberate and passionless nature of his cousin impressed the fiery and
warlike Rameses.
Ani appeared to be devoid of ambition, or the spirit of enterprise; he
accepted the dignity that was laid upon him with apparent reluctance,
and seemed a particularly safe person, because he had lost both wife and
child, and could boast of no heir.
He was a man of more than middle height; his features were remarkably
regular--even beautifully, cut, but smooth and with little expression.
His clear blue eyes and thin lips gave no evidence of the emotions that
filled his heart; on the contrary, his countenance wore a soft smile
that could adapt itself to haughtiness, to humility, and to a variety of
shades of feeling, but which could never be entirely banished from his
face.
He had listened with affable condescension to the complaint of a landed
proprietor, whose cattle had been driven off for the king's army, and
had promised that his case should be enquired into. The plundered man
was leaving full of hope; but when the scribe who sat at the feet of the
Regent enquired to whom the investigation of this encroachment of the
troops should be entrusted, Ani said: "Each one must bring a victim to
the war; it must remain among the things that are done, and cannot be
undone."
The Nomarch--[Chief of a Nome or district.]--of Suan, in the southern
part of the country, asked for funds for a necessary, new embankment.
The Regent listened to his eager representation with benevolence, nay
with expressions of sympathy; but assured him that the war absorbed
all the funds of the state, that the chests were empty; still he felt
inclined--even if they had not failed--to sacrifice a part of his own
income to preserve the endangered arable land of his faithful province
of Suan, to which he desired greeting.
As soon as the Nomarch had left him, he commanded that a considerable
sum should be taken out of the Treasury, and sent after the petitioner.
From time to time in the middle of conversation, he arose, and made a
gesture of lamentation, to show to the assembled mourners in the court
that he sympathized in the losses which had fallen on them.
The sun had already passed the meridian, when a disturbance, accompanied
by loud cries, took possession of the masses of people, who stood round
the scribes in the palace court.
Many men and women were streaming together towards one spot, and even
the most impassive of the Thebans present turned their attention to an
incident so unusual in this place.
A detachment of constabulary made a way through the crushing and yelling
mob, and another division of Lybian police led a prisoner towards a side
gate of the court. Before they could reach it, a messenger came up with
them, from the Regent, who desired to be informed as to what happened.
The head of the officers of public safety followed him, and with eager
excitement informed Ani, who was waiting for him, that a tiny man, the
dwarf of the Lady Katuti, had for several hours been going about in
the court, and endeavoring to poison the minds of the citizens with
seditious speeches.
Ani ordered that the misguided man should be thrown into the dungeon;
but so soon as the chief officer had left him, he commanded his
secretary to have the dwarf brought into his presence before sundown.
While he was giving this order an excitement of another kind seized the
assembled multitude.
As the sea parted and stood on the right hand and on the left of the
Hebrews, so that no wave wetted the foot of the pursued fugitives,
so the crowd of people of their own free will, but as if in reverent
submission to some high command, parted and formed a broad way, through
which walked the high-priest of the House of Seti, as, full robed and
accompanied by some of the "holy fathers," he now entered the court.
The Regent went to meet him, bowed before him, and then withdrew to the
back of the hall with him alone. "It is nevertheless incredible," said
Ameni, "that our serfs are to follow the militia!"
"Rameses requires soldiers--to conquer," replied the Regent.
"And we bread--to live," exclaimed the priest.
"Nevertheless I am commanded, at once, before the seed-time, to levy
the temple-serfs. I regret the order, but the king is the will, and I am
only the hand."
"The hand, which he makes use of to sequester ancient rights, and to
open a way to the desert over the fruitful land."
["With good management," said the first Napoleon, "the Nile
encroaches upon the desert, with bad management the desert
encroaches upon the Nile."]
"Your acres will not long remain unprovided for. Rameses will win new
victories with the increased army, and the help of the Gods."
"The Gods! whom he insults!"
"After the conclusion of peace he will reconcile the Gods by doubly rich
gifts. He hopes confidently for an early end to the war, and writes to
me that after the next battle he wins he intends to offer terms to the
Cheta. A plan of the king's is also spoken of--to marry again, and,
indeed, the daughter of the Cheta King Chetasar."
Up to this moment the Regent had kept his eyes cast down. Now he raised
them, smiling, as if he would fain enjoy Ameni's satisfaction, and
asked:
"What dost thou say to this project?"
"I say," returned Ameni, and his voice, usually so stern, took a tone
of amusement, "I say that Rameses seems to think that the blood of thy
cousin and of his mother, which gives him his right to the throne, is
incapable of pollution."
"It is the blood of the Sun-god!"
"Which runs but half pure in his veins, but wholly pure in thine."
The Regent made a deprecatory gesture, and said softly, with a smile
which resembled that of a dead man:
"We are not alone."
"No one is here," said Ameni, "who can hear us; and what I say is known
to every child."
"But if it came to the king's ears--" whispered Ani, "he--"
"He would perceive how unwise it is to derogate from the ancient rights
of those on whom it is incumbent to prove the purity of blood of the
sovereign of this land. However, Rameses sits on the throne; may life
bloom for him, with health and strength!"--[A formula which even in
private letters constantly follows the name of the Pharaoh.]
The Regent bowed, and then asked:
"Do you propose to obey the demand of the Pharaoh without delay?"
"He is the king. Our council, which will meet in a few days, can only
determine how, and not whether we shall fulfil his command."
"You will retard the departure of the serfs, and Rameses requires them
at once. The bloody labor of the war demands new tools."
"And the peace will perhaps demand a new master, who understands how to
employ the sons of the land to its greatest advantage--a genuine son of
Ra."
The Regent stood opposite the high-priest, motionless as an image cast
in bronze, and remained silent; but Ameni lowered his staff before him
as before a god, and then went into the fore part of the hall.
When Ani followed him, a soft smile played as usual upon his
countenance, and full of dignity he took his seat on the throne.
"Art thou at an end of thy communications?" he asked the high-priest.
"It remains for me to inform you all," replied Ameni with a louder
voice, to be heard by all the assembled dignitaries, "that the princess
Bent-Anat yesterday morning committed a heavy sin, and that in all the
temples in the land the Gods shall be entreated with offerings to take
her uncleanness from her."
Again a shadow passed over the smile on the Regent's countenance. He looked meditatively on the ground, and then said: |
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