Читать книгу The Pharaoh and the Priest - Bolesław Prus - Страница 7

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PANTING with anger, Prince Rameses rushed up the hill, while behind him followed Tutmosis. The wig of the exquisite had turned on his head, his false beard had slipped down, and he carried it in his hand. In spite of exertion he would have been pale had it not been for the layers of rouge on his face.

At last Rameses halted at the summit. From the ravine came the outcry of warriors and the rattle of the onrolling balistas; before the two men stretched the immense plain of Goshen, bathed continually in sun-rays. That did not seem land, but a golden cloud, on which the mind painted a landscape in colors of silver, ruby, pearl, and topaz.

“Look,” cried the heir to Tutmosis, stretching out his hand, “those are to be my lands, and here is my army. Over there the loftiest edifices are palaces of priests, and here the supreme chief of the troops is a priest! Can anything like this be suffered?”

“It has always been so,” replied Tutmosis, glancing around with timidity.

“That is not true! I know the history of this country, which is hidden to thee. The leaders of armies and the masters of officials were the pharaohs alone, or at least the most energetic among them. Those rulers did not pass their days in making offerings and prayers, but in managing the state.”

“If it is the desire of his holiness to pass his days that way?” said Tutmosis.

“It is not my father’s wish that nomarchs should govern as they please in the capitals of provinces. Why, the governor of Ethiopia considered himself as almost equal to the king of kings. And it cannot be my father’s wish that his army should march around two golden beetles because the minister of war is a high priest.”

“He is a great warrior,” whispered Tutmosis, with increasing timidity.

“He a great warrior? Because he dispersed a handful of Libyan robbers ready to flee at the mere sight of Egyptians. But see what our neighbors are doing. Israel delays in paying tribute and pays less and less of it. The cunning Phœnician steals a number of ships from our fleet every year. On the east we are forced to keep up a great army against the Hittites, while around Babylon and Nineveh there is such a movement that it is felt throughout all Mesopotamia.

“And what is the outcome of priestly management? This, that while my great-grandfather had a hundred thousand talents of yearly income and one hundred and sixty thousand troops, my father has barely fifty thousand talents and one hundred and twenty thousand troops.

“And what an army! Were it not for the Greek corps, which keeps them in order as a dog watches sheep, the Egyptian soldiers to-day would obey only priests and the pharaoh would sink to the level of a miserable nomarch.”

“Whence hast thou learned this?” asked Tutmosis, with astonishment.

“Am I not of a priestly family? And besides, they taught me when I was not heir to the throne. Oh, when I become pharaoh after my father,—may he live through eternity!—I will put my bronze-sandalled foot on their necks. But first of all I will seize their treasures, which have always been bloated, but which from the time of Rameses the Great have begun to swell out, and to-day are so swollen that the treasure of the pharaoh is invisible because of them.”

“Woe to me and to thee!” sighed Tutmosis. “Thou hast plans under which this hill would bend could it hear and understand them. And where are thy forces, thy assistance, thy warriors? Against thee the whole people will rise, led by a class of men with mighty influence. But who is on thy side?”

Rameses listened and fell to thinking. At last he said,—

“The army—”

“A considerable part of it will follow the priests.”

“The Greek corps—”

“A barrel of water in the Nile.”

“The officials—”

“Half of them belong to the priests.”

The prince shook his head sadly, and was silent.

From the summit they went down by a naked and stony slope to the opposite base of the hill. Then Tutmosis, who had pushed ahead somewhat, cried,—

“Has a charm fallen on my eyes? Look, Rameses! Why, a second Egypt is concealed between these cliffs!”

“That must be an estate of some priest who pays no taxes,” replied the prince, bitterly.

In the depth before their feet lay a rich valley in the form of a fork the tines of which were hidden between cliffs. At the juncture of the tines a number of servants’ huts were visible, and the beautiful little villa of the owner or manager. Palm-trees grew there, grapes, olives, figs with aerial roots, cypresses, even young baobabs. In the centre flowed a rivulet, and at the source of it, some hundreds of yards higher up, small gardens were visible.

When they had gone down among grape-vines covered with ripe clusters, they heard a woman’s voice which called, or rather sang in pensive notes:

“Where art thou gone from me, where art thou, hen of mine? Thou hast fled, thou art gone from me. I give thee drink and clean grain; what I give is so good that slaves envy thee. Where art thou gone, my hen—wilt thou not answer me? Night will come down on thee, think of that; thou wilt not reach thy home, where all are at work for thee. Come; if thou come not, a falcon will fly from the desert and tear the heart out of thee. If he come thou wilt call in vain, as I now call in vain to thee. Give answer, or I shall be angry and leave this place. If I leave thou’lt go home on thy own feet.”

The song came toward the two men. The songstress was a few yards from them when Tutmosis thrust his head from between the bushes, and said,—

“Just look, Rameses, but that is a beautiful maiden!”

Instead of looking, the prince sprang into the path and stopped the road before the songstress. She was really a beautiful maiden, with Grecian features and a complexion like ivory. From under the veil on her head peeped forth an immense mass of dark hair, wound in a knot. She wore a white trailing robe which she held on one side with her hand; under the transparent covering were maiden breasts shaped like apples.

“Who art thou?” cried Rameses.

The threatening furrows vanished from his forehead and his eyes flashed.

“O Jehovah! O Father!” cried she, frightened, halting motionless on the path.

But she grew calm by degrees, and her velvety eyes resumed their expression of mild sadness.

“Whence hast thou come?” inquired she of Rameses, with a voice trembling a little. “I see that thou art a soldier, but it is not permitted soldiers to come here.”

“Why is it not permitted?”

“Because this is the land of a great lord named Sesofris.”

“Ho! ho!” laughed Rameses.

“Laugh not, for thou wilt grow pale soon. The lord Sesofris is secretary to the lord Chaires, who carries his fan for the most worthy nomarch of Memphis. My father has seen him and fallen on his face before him.”

“Ho! ho! ho!” repeated Rameses, laughing continually.

“Thy words are very insolent,” said the maiden, frowning. “Were kindness not looking from thy face, I should think thee a mercenary from Greece or a bandit.”

“He is not a bandit yet, but some day he may become the greatest bandit this land has ever suffered,” said Tutmosis the exquisite, arranging his wig.

“And thou must be a dancer,” answered the girl, grown courageous. “Oh! I am even certain that I saw thee at the fair in Pi-Bailos, enchanting serpents.”

The two young men fell into perfect humor.

“But who art thou?” asked Rameses of the girl, taking her hand, which she drew back.

“Be not so bold. I am Sarah, the daughter of Gideon, the manager of this estate.”

“A Jewess,” said Rameses; and a shadow passed over his face.

“What harm in that? what harm in that?” cried Tutmosis. “Dost think that Jewesses are less sweet than Egyptian girls? They are only more modest and more difficult, which gives their love an uncommon charm.”

“So ye are pagans,” said Sarah, with dignity. “Rest, if ye are tired, pluck some grapes for yourselves, and go with God. Our servants are not glad to see guests like you.”

She wished to go, but Rameses detained her.

“Stop! Thou hast pleased me, and may not leave us in this way.”

“The evil spirit has seized thee; no one in this valley would dare to speak thus to me,” said Sarah, now indignant.

“Yes; for, seest thou,” interrupted Tutmosis, “this young man is an officer of the priestly regiment of Ptah, and a secretary of the secretary of a lord who carries his fan over the fan-carrier of the nomarch of Habu.”

“Surely he must be an officer,” answered Sarah, looking with thoughtfulness at Rameses. “Maybe he is a great lord himself?” added she, putting her finger on her lips.

“Whoever I am, thy beauty surpasses my dignity,” answered he, suddenly. “But tell me, is it true that the Jews eat pork?”

Sarah looked at him offended; and Tutmosis added,—

“How evident it is that thou knowest not Jewesses! I tell thee that a Jew would rather die than eat pork, which, for my part, I do not consider as the worst—”

“But do they eat cats?” insisted Rameses, pressing Sarah’s hand and looking into her eyes.

“And that is a fable, a vile fable!” exclaimed Tutmosis. “Thou mightst have asked me about those things instead of talking nonsense. I have had three Jewish mistresses.”

“So far thou hast told the truth, but now thou art lying,” called out Sarah. “A Jewess would not be any man’s mistress,” added she, proudly.

“Even the mistress of the secretary of a lord who carries the fan for the nomarch of Memphis?” asked Tutmosis, jeeringly.

“Even—”

“Even the mistress of the lord who carries the fan?”

Sarah hesitated, but answered,—

“Even.”

“Then perhaps she would not become the mistress of the nomarch?”

The girl’s hands dropped. With astonishment she looked in turn at the young men; her lips quivered, and her eyes filled with tears.

“Who are ye?” inquired she, alarmed. “Ye have come down from the hills, like travellers who wish bread and water, but ye speak to me as might the greatest lords. Who are ye? Thy sword,” said she, turning to Rameses, “is set with emeralds, and on thy neck is a chain of such work as even our lord, the great Sesofris, has not in his treasury.”

“Better tell me if I please thee,” insisted Rameses, pressing her hand and looking into her eyes tenderly.

“Thou art beautiful, as beautiful as the angel Gabriel; but I fear thee, for I know not who thou art.”

Then from beyond the hilltop was heard the sound of a trumpet.

“They are calling thee!” cried Tutmosis.

“And if I were as great a lord as thy Sesofris?” asked Rameses.

“Then maybe—” answered Sarah.

“And if I carried the fan of the nomarch of Memphis?”

“Thou mayest be even as great as that—”

Somewhere beyond the hill was heard the second trumpet.

“Come, Rameses!” insisted the frightened Tutmosis.

“But if I were—heir to the throne, wouldst thou come to me?” cried the prince.

“O Jehovah!” exclaimed Sarah, dropping on her knees.

From various points trumpets summoned, now urgently.

“Let us run!” cried Tutmosis, in desperation. “Dost thou not hear the alarm in the camp?”

Rameses took the chain from his neck quickly and threw it on Sarah.

“Give this to thy father. I will buy thee from him. Be in health.”

He kissed her lips passionately, and she embraced his knees. He tore away, ran a couple of paces, turned again, and again fondled her beautiful face and dark hair with kisses, as if he heard not those impatient calls to the army.

“In the name of his holiness the pharaoh, I summon thee, follow me!” cried Tutmosis; and he seized the prince’s hand.

They ran toward the trumpet-calls. Rameses tottered at moments like a drunken man, and turned his head. At last they were climbing the opposite hill.

“And this man,” thought Tutmosis, “wants to battle with the priesthood!”