Читать книгу The Pharaoh and the Priest - Bolesław Prus - Страница 9

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AS the suite of the heir approached Memphis, the sun was near its setting, while from countless canals and the distant sea came a wind filled with cool moisture. The road descended again to the fertile region, where on fields and among bushes continuous ranks of people were working, a rosy gleam was falling on the desert, and the mountain summits were in a blaze of sunlight.

Rameses halted and turned his horse. His suite surrounded him quickly, the higher officers approached with some leisure, while the marching regiments drew nearer slowly and with even tread. In the purple rays of the setting sun, the prince had the seeming of a divinity, the soldiers gazed at him with affection and pride, the chiefs looked admiringly.

He raised his hand. All were silent.

“Worthy leaders,” began he, “brave officers, obedient soldiers! To-day the gods have given me the pleasure of commanding you. Delight has filled my heart. And since it is my will that leaders, officers, and soldiers should share my happiness at all times, I assign one drachma to each soldier of those who have gone to the east, and to those who return with us from the eastern boundary; also one drachma each to the Greek soldiers who to-day, under my command, opened a passage out of the ravine; and one drachma to each man in the regiments of the worthy Nitager who wished to cut off the way to us.”

There was a shout in the army.

“Be well, our leader! Be well, successor of the pharaoh, may he live eternally!” cried the soldiers; and the Greeks cried the loudest.

The prince continued,—

“I assign five talents to be divided among the lower officers of my army and that of the worthy Nitager. And finally I assign ten talents to be divided between his worthiness the minister and the chief leaders—”

“I yield my part for the benefit of the army,” answered Herhor.

“Be well, O heir!—be well, O minister!” cried the officers and the soldiers.

The ruddy circle of the sun had touched the sands of the western desert. Rameses took farewell of the army and galloped towards Memphis; but his worthiness Herhor, amid joyous shouts, took a seat in his litter and commanded also to go in advance of the marching divisions.

When they had gone so far that single voices were merged into one immense murmur, like the sound of a cataract, the minister, bending toward the secretary, asked of him,—

“Dost thou remember everything?”

“Yes, worthy lord.”

“Thy memory is like granite on which we write history, and thy wisdom like the Nile, which covers all the country and enriches it,” said Herhor. “Besides, the gods have granted thee the greatest of virtues,—wise obedience.”

The secretary was silent.

“Hence thou mayest estimate more accurately than others the acts and reasons of the heir, may he live through eternity!”

The minister stopped awhile, and then added,—

“It has not been his custom to speak so much. Tell me then, Pentuer, and record this: Is it proper that the heir to the throne should express his will before the army? Only a pharaoh may act thus, or a traitor, or—a frivolous stripling, who with the same heedlessness will do hasty deeds or belch forth words of blasphemy.”

The sun went down, and soon after a starry night appeared. Above the countless canals of Lower Egypt a silvery mist began to thicken,—a mist which, borne to the desert by a gentle wind, freshened the wearied warriors, and revived vegetation which had been dying through lack of moisture.

“Or tell me, Pentuer,” continued the minister, “and inquire: whence will the heir get his twenty talents to keep the promise which he made this day to the army with such improvidence? Besides, it seems to me, and certainly to thee, a dangerous step for an heir to make presents to the army, especially now, when his holiness has nothing with which to pay Nitager’s regiments returning from the Orient. I do not ask what thy opinions are, for I know them, as thou knowest my most secret thoughts. I only ask thee to the end that thou remember what thou hast seen, so as to tell it to the priests in council.”

“Will they meet soon?” inquired Pentuer.

“There is no reason yet to summon them. I shall try first to calm this wild young bull through the fatherly hand of his holiness. It would be a pity to lose the boy, for he has much ability and the energy of a southern whirlwind. But if the whirlwind, instead of blowing away Egypt’s enemies, blows down its wheat and tears up its palm-trees!—”

The minister stopped conversation, and his retinue vanished in the dark alley of trees which led to Memphis.

Meanwhile Rameses reached the palace of the pharaoh.

This edifice stood on an elevation in a park outside the city. Peculiar trees grew there: baobabs from the south; pines, oaks, and cedars from the north. Thanks to the art of gardeners, these trees lived some tens of years and reached a considerable height.

The shady alley led to a gate which was as high as a house of three stories. From each side of the gate rose a solid building like a tower in the form of a truncated pyramid, forty yards in width with the height of five stories. In the night they seemed like two immense tents made of sandstone. These peculiar buildings had on the ground and the upper stories square windows, and the roofs were flat. From the top of one of these pyramids without apex, a watch looked at the country; from the other the priest on duty observed the stars.

At the right and left of these towers, called pylons, extended walls, or rather long structures of one story, with narrow windows and flat roofs, on which sentries paced back and forth. On both sides of the main gate were two sitting statues fifteen feet in height. In front of these statues moved other sentries.

When the prince, with a number of horsemen, approached the palace, the sentry knew him in spite of the darkness. Soon an official of the court ran out of the pylon. He was clothed in a white skirt and dark mantle, and wore a wig as large as a headdress.

“Is the palace closed already?” inquired the prince.

“Thou art speaking truth, worthy lord,” said the official. “His holiness is preparing the god for sleep.”

“What will he do after that?”

“He will be pleased to receive the war minister, Herhor.”

“Well, and later?”

“Later his holiness will look at the ballet in the great hall, then he will bathe and recite evening prayers.”

“Has he not commanded to receive me?” inquired Rameses.

“To-morrow morning after the military council.”

“What are the queens doing?”

“The first queen is praying in the chamber of her dead son, and thy worthy mother is receiving the Phœnician ambassador, who has brought her gifts from the women of Tyre.”

“Did he bring maidens?”

“A number of them. Each has on her person treasures to the value of ten talents.”

“Who is moving about down there with torches?” asked the prince, pointing to the lower park.

“They are taking thy brother, worthiness, from a tree where he has been sitting since midday.”

“Is he unwilling to come down?”

“He will come down now, for the first queen’s jester has gone for him, and has promised to take him to the inn where dissectors are drinking.”

“And hast thou heard anything of the manœuvres of to-day?”

“They say that the staff was cut off from the corps.”

“And what more?”

The official hesitated.

“Tell what thou hast heard.”

“We heard, moreover, that because of this five hundred blows of a stick were given to a certain officer at thy command, worthiness.”

“It is all a lie!” said one of the adjutants of the heir in an undertone.

“The soldiers, too, say among themselves that it must be a lie,” returned the official, with growing confidence.

Rameses turned his horse and rode to the lower part of the park where his small palace was situated. It had a ground and an upper story and was built of wood. Its form was that of an immense hexagon with two porticos, an upper and a lower one which surrounded the building and rested on a multitude of pillars. Lamps were burning in the interior; hence it was possible to see that the walls were formed of planks perforated like lace, and that these walls were protected from the wind by curtains of various colors. The roof of the building was flat, surrounded by a balustrade; on this roof stood a number of tents.

Greeted heartily by half-naked servitors, some of whom ran out with torches, while others prostrated themselves before him, the heir entered his residence. On the ground floor he removed his dusty dress, bathed in a stone basin, and put on a kind of great sheet which he fastened at the neck and bound round his waist with a cord for a girdle. On the first floor he ate a supper consisting of a wheaten cake, dates, and a glass of light beer. Then he went to the terrace of the building, and lying on a couch covered with a lion skin, commanded the servants to withdraw and to bring up Tutmosis the moment he appeared there.

About midnight a litter stopped before the residence, and out of it stepped the adjutant. When he walked along the terrace heavily yawning as he went, the prince sprang up from the couch and cried,—

“Art thou here? Well, what?”

“Then art thou not sleeping yet?” replied Tutmosis. “O gods, after so many days of torture! I think that I should sleep until sunrise.”

“What of Sarah?”

“She will be here the day after to-morrow, or thou wilt be with her in the house beyond the river.”

“Only after to-morrow!”

“Only? I beg thee, Rameses, to sleep. Thou hast taken too much bad blood to thy heart, fire will strike to thy head.”

“What about her father?”

“He is honorable and wise. They call him Gideon. When I told him that thou hadst the wish to take his daughter, he fell on the ground and tore his hair. Of course I waited till this outburst of fatherly suffering was over; I ate a little, drank some wine, and at last proceeded to bargaining. The weeping Gideon swore first of all that he would rather see his daughter dead than the mistress of any man. Then I told him that near Memphis, on the Nile, he would receive land which gives two talents of yearly income and pays no taxes. He was indignant. Then I stated that he might receive another talent yearly in gold and silver. He sighed and declared that his daughter had spent three years at school in Pi-Bailos; I added another talent. Then Gideon, still disconsolate, remembered that he would lose his very good position of manager for the lord Sesofris. I told him that he need not lose that place, and added ten milch cows from thy stables. His forehead cleared somewhat; then he confessed to me, as a profound secret, that a certain very great lord, Chaires, who bears the fan of the nomarch of Memphis, was turning attention toward Sarah. I promised then to add a young bull, a medium chain of gold, and a large bracelet. In this way thy Sarah will cost thee land, two talents yearly in money, ten cows, a young bull, a chain and a gold bracelet, immediately. These thou wilt give to her father, the honest Gideon; to her thou wilt give whatever pleases thee.”

“What did Sarah say to this?”

“While we were bargaining she walked among the trees. When we had finished the matter and settled it by drinking good Hebrew wine, she told her father—dost thou know what?—that if he had not given her to thee, she would have gone up the cliff and thrown herself down head foremost. Now thou mayst sleep quietly, I think,” ended Tutmosis.

“I doubt it,” answered Rameses, leaning on the balustrade and looking into the emptiest side of the park. “Dost thou know that on the way back we found a man hanging from a tree?”

“Oh! that is worse than the scarabs!”

“He hanged himself from despair because the warriors filled the canal which he had been digging for ten years in the desert.”

“Well, that man is sleeping now quietly. So it is time for us.”

“That man was wronged,” said the prince. “I must find his children, ransom them, and rent a bit of land to them.”

“But thou must do this with great secrecy,” remarked Tutmosis, “or all slaves will begin to hang themselves, and no Phœnician will lend us, their lords, a copper uten.”

“Jest not. Hadst thou seen that man’s face, sleep would be absent to-night from thy eyes as it is from mine.”

Meanwhile from below, among the bushes, was heard a voice, not over-powerful, but clear,—

“May the One, the All-Powerful, bless thee, Rameses,—He who has no name in human speech, or statue in a temple.”

Both young men bent forward in astonishment.

“Who art thou?” called out the prince.

“I am the injured people of Egypt,” replied the voice, slowly and with calmness.

Then all was silent. No motion, no rustle of branches betrayed human presence in that place.

At command of Rameses servants rushed out with torches, the dogs were unchained, and every bush around the house was searched. But they found no one.

“Who could that have been, Tutmosis?” asked the prince, with emotion. “Perhaps it was the ghost of that slave who hanged himself?”

“I have never heard ghosts talking, though I have been on guard at temples and tombs more than once. I should think, rather, that he who has just called to us is some friend of thine.”

“Why should he hide?”

“But what harm is that to thee? Each one of us has tens, if not hundreds, of invisible enemies. Thank the gods, then, that thou hast even one invisible friend.”

“I shall not sleep to-night,” whispered the excited prince.

“Be calm. Instead of running along the terrace listen to me and lie down. Thou wilt see Sleep—that is a deliberate divinity, and it does not befit him to chase after those who run with the pace of a deer. If thou wilt lie down on a comfortable couch, Sleep, who loves comfort, will sit near thee and cover thee with his great mantle, which covers not only men’s eyes, but their memories.”

Thus speaking, Tutmosis placed Rameses on a couch; then he brought an ivory pillow shaped like a crescent, and arranging the prince, placed his head on this pillow.

Then he let down the canvas walls of the tent, laid himself on the floor, and both were asleep in some minutes.