He fell before them on the pavement, and said,

"In accordance with your commands, I bring to you, holy fathers, the criminal Lykon. Do ye wish to see his face?"

When they assented, the chief rose, and pulled the bag from the man standing near him.

Both high priests cried out with astonishment. The Greek was really so like Ramses that it was impossible to resist the deception.

"Thou art Lykon, the singer from the temple of Astaroth?" asked the holy Sem of the bound Greek.

Lykon smiled contemptuously.

"And didst Thou kill the child of the prince?" added Mefres.

The Greek grew blue from rage, and strove to tear off his bonds.

"Yes!" cried he, "I killed the whelp, for I could not find the wolf, his father, may heaven's blazes burn him!"

"In what has the prince offended thee, criminal?" asked the indignant Sem.

"In what? He seized from me Kama, and plunged her into a disease for which there is no remedy. I was free, I might have fled with life and property, but I resolved to avenge myself, and now ye have me. It was his luck that your gods are mightier than my hatred. Now ye may kill me; the sooner ye do so, the better."

"This is a great criminal," said Sem.

Mefres was silent and gazed into the Greek's eyes, which were burning with rage. He admired his courage, and fell to thinking. All at once he said to the chief,

"Worthy sir, Thou mayst go, this man belongs to us."

"This man," replied the chief, who was indignant, "belongs to me. I seized him and I shall receive a reward from Prince Ramses."

Mefres rose and drew forth from under his mantle a gold medal.

"In the name of the supreme council, of which I am a member," said he, "I command thee to yield this man to us. Remember that his existence is among the highest state secrets, and indeed it would be a hundred times better for thee to forget that Thou hast left him here."

The chief fell again to the pavement, and went out repressing his anger.

"Our lord the prince will repay you when he is the pharaoh!" thought he. "And he will pay you my part ye will see."

"Where is the prisoner?" asked the agents standing before the gate.

"In prison," answered the chief; "the hands of the gods have rested on him."

"And our reward?" asked the elder agent.

"The hands of the gods have rested on your reward also. Imagine then to yourselves that ye saw that prisoner only in a dream, ye will be safer in health and in service."

The agents dropped their heads in silence. But in their hearts they swore vengeance against the priests, who had taken a handsome reward from them.

After the chief had gone Mefres summoned a number of priests, and whispered something into the ears of the eldest. The priests surrounded the Greek and conducted him out of the chamber. Lykon made no resistance.

"I think," said Sem, "that this man should be brought before the court as a murderer."

"Never!" cried Mefres, with decision. "On this man weighs an incomparably greater crime, he is like the heir to the throne."

"And what wilt Thou do with him, worthiness?"

"I will reserve him for the supreme council," said Mefres. "When the heir to the throne visits pagan temples and steals from them women, when the country is threatened with danger of war, and the power of the priests with rebellion, Lykon may be of service."

On the following midday the high priest Sem, the nomarch, and the chief of police went to Sarah's prison. The unfortunate woman had not eaten for a number of days, and was so weak that she did not rise from the bench even in presence of so many dignitaries.

"Sarah," said the nomarch, whom she had known before, "we bring thee good news."

"News," repeated she with a pathetic voice. "My son is not living, that is the news; my breast is full of nourishment, but my heart is full of sadness."

"Sarah," said the nomarch, "Thou art free. Thou didst not kill thy child."

Her seemingly dead features revived. She sprang from the bench, and cried,

"I I killed him only I."

"Consider, Sarah, a man killed thy son, a Greek, named Lykon, the lover of the Phoenician Kama."

"What dost Thou say?" whispered she, seizing the nomarch's hands. "Oh, that Phoenician woman! I knew that she would ruin us. But the Greek? I know no Greek. How could my son offend any man?"

"I know not," continued the nomarch. "That Greek is no longer alive. But that man was so like Prince Ramses that when he entered thy chamber Thou didst think him our lord. And Thou hast preferred to accuse thy own self rather than our lord, and thine."

"Then that was not Ramses?" cried she, seizing her head. "And I, wretched woman, let a strange man take my son from his cradle. Ha! ha! ha!"

Then she laughed more and more. On a sudden, as if her legs had been cut from under her, she fell to the floor, her hands hopped a couple of times, and she died in hysteric laughter.

But on her face remained an expression of sorrow which even death could not drive from it.



CHAPTER XLII

THE western boundary of Egypt for a distance of more than a hundred geographic miles is composed of a wall of naked limestone hills about two hundred meters high, intersected by ravines. They run parallel to the Nile, from which they are sometimes five miles distant, sometimes one kilometer. Whoso should clamber up one of these hills and turn his face northward would see one of the strangest sights possible. He would have on his right hand the narrow but green plain cut lengthwise by the Nile; on his left he would see an endless yellow open region, varied by spots, white or brick colored.

Monotony, the irritating yellow color of the sand plain, the heat, and, above all, boundless immensity are the most peculiar traits of the Libyan desert, which extends westward from Egypt.

But viewed more nearly the desert is in fact less monotonous. Its sand is not level, but forms a series of swellings which recall immense waves of water. It is like a roused sea solidified on a sudden. But whoso should have the courage to go across that sea for an hour, two hours, a day, directly westward would see a new sight. On the horizon would appear eminences, sometimes cliffs and rocks of the strangest outlines. Under foot the sand would grow thinner, and from beneath it limestone rocks would emerge just like land out of water.

In fact that was a land, or even a country in the midst of a sand ocean. Around the limestone hills were valleys, in them the beds of streams and rivers, farther on a plain, and in the middle of it a lake with a bending line of shores and a sunken bottom.

But on these plains, hills, and heights no blade of grass grows; in the lake there is no drop of water; along the bed of the river no current moves. That is a landscape, even greatly varied with respect to forms, but a landscape from which all water has departed, the very last atom of moisture has dried from it; a dead landscape, where not only all vegetation has vanished, but even the fertile stratum of earth has been ground into dust or dried up into rock slabs.

In those places the most ghastly event has taken place of which it is possible to meditate: Nature has died there, and nothing remains but her dust and her skeleton, which heat dissolves to the last degree, and burning wind tosses from spot to spot.

Beyond this dead, unburied region stretches again a sea of sand, on which are seen, here and there, towering up in one and another place, pointed stacks as high as a house of one story. Each summit of such a little hill is crowned by a small bunch of gray, fine, dusty leaves, of which it is difficult to say that they are living; but it may be said that they cannot wither.

One of these strange stacks signifies that water in that place has not dried up altogether, but has hidden from drought beneath the earth, and preserves dampness in some way. On that spot a tamarind seed fell, and the plant has begun to grow with endless effort.

But Typhon, the lord of the desert, has noted this, and begun to stifle it with sand. And the more the little plant pushes upward, the higher rises the stack of sand which is choking it. That tamarind which has wandered into the desert looks like a drowning man raising his arms, in vain, heavenward.

And again the yellow boundless ocean stretches on with its sand waves and those fragments of the plant world which have not the power to perish. All at once a rocky wall is in front, and in it clefts, which serve as gateways.

The incredible is before us. Beyond one of these gateways a broad green plain appears, a multitude of palms, the blue waters of a lake. Even sheep are seen pasturing, with cattle and horses. From afar, on the sides of a cliff, towers up a town; on the summit of the cliff are the white walls of a temple.

That is an oasis, or island in the sand ocean.

In the time of the pharaohs there were many such oases, perhaps some tens of them. They formed a chain of islands in the desert, along the western boundary of Egypt. They lay at a distance of ten, fifteen, or twenty geographic miles from the Nile, and varied in size from a few to a few tens of square kilometers in area.

Celebrated by Arab poets, these oases were never really the forecourts of paradise. Their lakes are swamps for the greater part; from their underground sources flow waters which are warm, sometimes of evil odor, and disgustingly brackish; their vegetation could not compare with the Egyptian. Still, these lonely places seemed a miracle to wanderers in the desert, who found in them a little green for the eye, a trifle of coolness, dampness, and some dates also.

The population of these islands in the sand ocean varied from a few hundred persons to numbers between ten and twenty thousand, according to area. These people were all adventurers or their descendants, Europeans, Libyans, Ethiopians. To the desert fled people who had nothing to lose, convicts from the quarries, criminals pursued by police, earth-tillers escaping from tribute, or laborers who left hard work for danger. The greater part of these fugitives died on the sand ocean. Some of them, after sufferings beyond description, were able to reach the oases, where they passed a wretched life, but a free one, and they were ready at all times to fall upon Egypt for the sake of an outlaw's recompense.

Between the desert and the Mediterranean extended a very long, though not very wide strip of fruitful soil, inhabited by tribes which the Egyptians called Libyans. Some of these worked at land tilling, others at navigation and fishing; in each tribe, however, was a crowd of wild people, who preferred plunder, theft, and warfare to regular labor. That bandit population was perishing always between poverty and warlike adventure; but it was also recruited by an influx of Sicilians and Sardinians, who at that time were greater robbers and barbarians than were the native Libyans.

Since Libya touched the western boundary of Lower Egypt, barbarians made frequent inroads on the territory of his holiness, and were terribly punished. Convinced at last that war with Libyans was result- less, the pharaohs, or, more accurately, the priesthood, decided on another system: real Libyan families were permitted to settle in the swamps of Lower Egypt, near the seacoast, while adventurers and bandits were enlisted in the army, and became splendid warriors.

In this way the state secured peace on the western boundary. To keep single Libyan robbers in order police were sufficient, with a field guard and a few regiments of regulars disposed along the Canopus arm of the great river.

Such a condition of affairs lasted almost two centuries; the last war with the Libyans was carried on by Ramses III, who cut enormous piles of hands from his slain enemies, and brought thirteen thousand slaves home to Egypt. From that time forth no one feared attack on the Libyan boundary, and only toward the end of the reign of Ramses XII did the strange policy of the priests kindle the flame of war again in those regions.

It burst out through the following causes:

His worthiness, Herhor, the minister of war, and high priest of Amon, because of resistance from his holiness the pharaoh, was unable to conclude with Assyria a treaty for the division of Asia. But wishing, as Beroes had forewarned him, to keep a more continued peace with Assyria, Herhor assured Sargon that Egypt would not hinder them from carrying on a war with eastern and northern Asiatics.

And since Sargon, the ambassador of King Assar, seemed not to trust their oaths, Herhor decided to give him a material proof of friendly feeling, and, with this object, ordered to disband at once twenty thousand mercenaries, mainly Libyans.

For those disbanded warriors, who were in no way guilty and had been always loyal, this decision almost equaled a death sentence. Before Egypt appeared the danger of a war with Libya, which could in no case give refuge to men in such numbers, men accustomed only to comforts and military exercise, not to poverty and labor. But in view of great questions of state, Herhor and the priests did not hesitate at trifles.

Indeed, the disbanding of the Libyans brought them much advantage.

First of all, Sargon and his associates signed and swore to a treaty of ten years with the pharaoh, during which time, according to predictions of priests in Chaldea, evil fates were impending over Egypt.

Second, the disbanding of twenty thousand men spared four thousand talents to the treasury; this was greatly important.

Third, a war with Libya on the western boundary was an outlet for the heroic instincts of the viceroy, and might turn his attention from Asiatic questions and the eastern boundary for a long time. His worthiness Herhor and the supreme council had calculated very keenly that some years would pass before the Libyans, trained in petty warfare, would ask for peace with Egypt.

The plan was well constructed, but the authors of it failed in one point; they had not found Ramses a military genius.

The disbanded Libyan regiments robbed along the way, and reached their birthplace very quickly, all the more quickly since Herhor had given no command to place obstacles before them. The very first of the disbanded men, when they stood on Libyan soil, told wonders to their relatives.

According to their stories, dictated by anger and personal interest, Egypt was then as weak as when the Hyksos invaded it nine hundred years earlier. The pharaoh's treasury was so poor that he, the equal of the gods, had to disband them, the Libyans, who were the chief, if not the only honor of the army. Moreover, there was hardly any army unless a mere band on the eastern boundary, and that was formed of warriors of a common order.

Besides, there was dissension between the priesthood and his holiness. The laborers had not received their wages, and the earth tillers were simply killed through taxes, therefore masses of men were ready to rebel if they could only find assistance. And that was not the whole case, for the nomarchs, who ruled once independently, and who from time to time demanded their rights again, seeing now the weakness of the government, were preparing to overturn both the pharaoh and the supreme priestly council.

These tidings flew, like a flock of birds, along the Libyan boundary, and found credit quickly. Those barbarians and bandits ever ready to attack, were all the more ready then, when ex-warriors and officers of his holiness assured them that to plunder Egypt was easy.

Rich and thoughtful Libyans believed the disbanded men also; for during many years it had been to them no secret that Egyptian nobles were losing wealth yearly, that the pharaoh had no power, and that earth- tillers and laborers rebelled because they suffered.

And so excitement burst out through all Libya. People greeted the disbanded warriors and officers as heralds of good tidings. And since the country was poor, and had no supplies to nourish visitors, a war with Egypt was decided on straightway, so as to send off the new arrivals at the earliest.

Even the wise and crafty Libyan prince, Musawasa, let himself be swept away by the general current. It was not, however, the disbanded warriors who had convinced him, but certain grave and weighty persons who, in every likelihood, were agents of the chief Egyptian council.

These dignitaries, as if dissatisfied with things in Egypt, or offended at the pharaoh and the priesthood, had come to Libya from the seashore; they took no part in conversations, they avoided meetings with disbanded warriors, and explained to Musawasa, as the greatest secret, and with proofs in hand, that that was just his time to fall on Egypt.

"Thou wilt find there endless wealth," said they, "and granaries for thyself, thy people, and the grandsons of thy grandsons."

Musawasa, though a skilful diplomat and leader, let himself be caught in that way. Like a man of energy, he declared a sacred war at once, and, as he had valiant warriors in thousands, he hurried off the first corps eastward. His son, Tehenna, who was twenty years of age at that time, led it.

The old barbarian knew what war was, and understood that he who plans to conquer must act with speed and give the first blows in the struggle.

Libyan preparations were very brief. The former warriors of his holiness had no weapons, it is true, but they knew their trade, and it was not difficult in those days to find weapons for an army. A few straps, or pieces of rope for a sling, a dart or a sharpened stick, an axe, or a heavy club, a bag of stones, and another of dates, that was the whole problem.

So Musawasa gave two thousand men, ex-warriors of the pharaoh, and four thousand of the Libyan rabble to Tehenna, commanding him to fall on Egypt at the earliest, seize whatever he could find, and collect provisions for the real army. Assembling for himself the most important forces, he sent swift runners through the oases and summoned to his standard all who had no property.

There had not been such a movement in the desert for a long time. From each oasis came crowd after crowd, such a proletariat, that, though almost naked, they deserved to be called a tattered rabble. Relying on the opinion of his counselors, who a month earlier had been officers of his holiness, Musawasa supposed, with perfect judgment, that his son would plunder hundreds of villages and small places from Teremethis to Senti-Nofer, before he would meet important Egyptian forces. Finally they reported to him, that at the first news of a movement among the Libyans, not only had all laborers fled from the glass works, but that even the troops had withdrawn from fortresses in Sochet-Heman on the Soda Lakes.

This was of very good import to the barbarians, since those glass works were an important source of income to the pharaoh's treasury.

Musawasa had made the same mistake as the supreme priestly council. He had not foreseen military genius in Ramses. And an uncommon thing happened: before the first Libyan corps had reached the neighborhood of the Soda Lakes the viceroy's army was there, and was twice as numerous as its enemies.

No man could reproach the Libyans with lack of foresight. Tehenna and his staff had a very well-organized service. Their spies had made frequent visits to Melcatis, Naucratis, Sai, Menuf, and Teremethis, and had sailed across the Canopus and Bolbita arms of the Nile. Nowhere did they meet troops; the movements of troops would have been paralyzed in those places by the overflow, but they did see almost everywhere the alarm of settled populations which were simply fleeing from border villages. So they brought their leader exact intelligence.

Meanwhile the viceroy's army, in spite of the overflow, had reached the edge of the desert in nine days after it was mobilized, and now, furnished with water and provisions, it vanished among the hills of the Soda Lakes.

If Tehenna could have risen like an eagle above the camp of his warriors, he would have been frightened at seeing that Egyptian regiments were hidden in all the ravines of that district, and that his corps might be surrounded at any instant.



CHAPTER XLIII

FROM the moment when the troops of Lower Egypt marched out of Pi-Bast, the prophet, Mentezufis, who accompanied the prince, received and sent away dispatches daily.

One correspondence he conducted with the minister Herhor; Mentezufis sent reports to Memphis touching the advance of the troops, and the activity of the viceroy; of this activity he did not conceal his admiration. On his part, the worthy Herhor stated that every freedom was to be left to the heir, and that if Ramses lost his first battle, the supreme council would not feel angry.

"A slight defeat," said Herhor, "would be a lesson in humility and caution to the viceroy, who even now, though as yet he has done nothing, considers himself as equal to the most experienced warriors."

When Mentezufis answered that one could not easily suppose that the heir would meet defeat, Herhor let him understand that in that case the triumph should not be over brilliant.

"The state," continued he, "will not lose in any way if the warriors and the impulsive heir find amusement for some years along the western border. He will gain skill himself in warfare, while the idle warriors will find their own proper work to do."

The other correspondence Mentezufis carried on with the holy father Mefres and that seemed to him of more importance. Mefres, offended formerly by the prince, had recently, in the case of Sarah's child, accused the prince directly of infanticide, committed under Kama's influence.

When a week had passed, and the viceroy's innocence was manifest, the high priest grew still more irate, and did not cease his efforts. The prince, he said, was capable of anything; he was hostile to the country's gods, he was an ally of the vile Phoenicians.

The murder of Sarah's child seemed so suspicious in the earlier days, that even the supreme council asked Mentezufis what he. thought of it.

Mentezufis answered that he had watched the prince for days, and did not think the man a murderer.

Such were the letters which, like birds of prey, whirled around Ramses, while he was sending scouts against the enemy, consulting leaders, or urging on his warriors.

On the fourteenth day the whole army was concentrated on the south of Teremethis. To the great delight of the heir,

Patrokles came with the Greek regiment, and with him the priest Pentuer, sent by Herhor as another guardian near the viceroy.

The multitude of priests in the camp (for there were still others) did not enchant Ramses. But he resolved not to turn attention to the holy men or ask advice of them.

Relations were regulated in some way, for Mentezufis, according to instructions from Herhor, did not force himself on the prince, while Pentuer occupied himself with organizing medical aid for the wounded.

The military game began.

First of all Ramses, through his agents, had spread a report in many boundary villages that the Libyans were pushing forward in great masses, and would destroy and murder. Because of this the terrified inhabitants fled eastward and met the Egyptian warriors. The prince took them in to carry burdens for the army, the women and children he conveyed to the interior of Egypt. Next the commander sent spies to meet the approaching Libyans and discover their number and disposition. These spies returned soon, bringing accurate indications as to where the Libyans were and very exaggerated accounts as to their numbers. They asserted, too, mistakenly, though in great confidence, that at the head of the Libyan columns marched Musawasa with his son Tehenna.

The princely leader was flushed with delight that in his first war he would have such an experienced enemy as Musawasa.

He overestimated, therefore, the danger of the struggle and redoubled every caution. To have all chances on his side he had recourse to stratagem. He sent confidential men to meet the Libyans; he commanded them to feign that they were fugitives, to enter the enemies' camp and draw from Musawasa his best forces, the disbanded Libyan soldiers.

"Tell them," said Ramses to his agents, "that I have axes for the insolent, and compassion for obedience. If in the coming battle they will throw their weapons down and leave Musawasa, I will receive them back to the army of his holiness, and command to pay all arrears, as if they had never left the service."

Patrokles and the other generals saw in this a very prudent measure; the priests were silent, Mentezufis sent a dispatch to Herhor and next day received an answer.

The neighborhood of the Soda Lakes was a valley some tens of kilometers long, enclosed between two lines of hills, extending from the southeast toward the northwest. The greatest width did not exceed ten kilometers; there were places narrower, almost ravines.

Throughout the whole length of that valley extended one after another about ten swampy lakes filled with bitter, brackish water. Wretched plants and bushes grew there ever coated with sand, ever withering, plants which no beast would take to its mouth. Along both sides were sticking up jagged limestone hills, or immense heaps of sand in which a man might sink deeply.

The white and yellow landscape had a look of dreadful torpor, which was heightened by the heat, and also by the silence. No bird was ever heard there, and if any sound was given forth it was from a stone rolling down along a hillside.

Toward the middle of the valley rose two groups of buildings a few kilometers from each other; these were a 'fortress on the east, and glass factories on the west, to which Libyan merchants brought fuel. Both these places had been deserted because of the conflict. Tehenna's corps was to occupy both these points, and secure the road to Egypt for Musawasa's army forces.

The Libyans marched slowly from the town of Glaucus southward, and on the evening of the fourteenth day of Hator, they were at the entrance to the valley of the Soda Lakes, feeling sure that they would pass through in two days unmolested. That evening at sunset the Egyptian army moved toward the desert, passed over more than forty kilometers of sand in twelve hours, and next morning was on the hills between the huts and the fortress and hid in the many ravines of that region.

If some man that night had told the Libyans that palm-trees and wheat were growing in the valley of the Soda Lakes they would have been astonished less than if he had declared that the Egyptians had barred the way to it.

After a short rest, during which the priests had discovered and cleared out a few wells of water somewhat endurable for drinking, the Egyptian army began to occupy the hills extending along the northern side of the valley.

The viceroy's plan was quite simple. He was to cut off the Libyans from their country, and push them southward into the desert, where heat and hunger would kill them.

With this object he disposed his army on the northern side of the valley and divided it into three corps. The right wing, that which extended most toward Libya, was led by Patrokles, who was to cut off the invaders from their own town of Glaucus. The left wing, that nearest to Egypt, commanded by Mentezufis, was to stop the Libyans from advancing. Finally, the direction of the centre, at the glass huts, was taken by Ramses, who had Pentuer near his person.

On the fifteenth of Hator about seven in the morning, some tens of Libyan horsemen moved at a brisk trot through the valley. They stopped a moment at the huts, looked around, and, seeing nothing suspicious, rode back again.

At about ten in the forenoon in a heat which seemed to suck sweat and draw blood from men's bodies, Pentuer said to the viceroy,

"The Libyans have entered the valley and passed Patrokles' division. They will be here in an hour from now."

"Whence knowest Thou this?" asked the astonished prince.

"The priests know everything," replied Pentuer, smiling.

Then he ascended one of the cliffs cautiously, took from a bag a very bright object and turning it in the direction of the holy Mentezufis began to give certain signs with his hand.

"Mentezufis is informed already," said Pentuer.

The prince could not recover from astonishment and answered,

"My eyes are better than thine, and my hearing is not worse, I think; still I see nothing, I hear nothing. How, then, dost Thou see the enemy and converse with Mentezufis?"

Pentuer directed the prince to look at a distant hill, on the summit of which was a thorn bush. Ramses looked at that point and shaded his eyes on a sudden. In the bush something flashed brightly.

"What unendurable glitter is that?" cried he. "It might blind a man."

"That is the priest who is aiding the worthy Patrokles; he is giving us signs," replied Pentuer. "Thou seest, then, worthy lord, that we, too, can be useful in war time."

He was silent. From the distance of the valley came a certain sound; at first low, gradually it grew clearer. At this sound the Egyptian soldiers hidden at the sides of the hill began to spring up, look at their weapons, and whisper. But the sharp commands of officers quieted them, and again the silence was deathlike along the cliffs on the north side.

Meanwhile that distant sound in the valley increased and passed into an uproar in which, on the bases of thousands of voices a man could distinguish songs, sounds of flutes, squeaks of chariots, the neighing of horses, and the cries of commanders. The prince's heart was now beating with violence; he could not resist his curiosity, and he clambered up to a rocky height whence a large part of the valley was visible.

Surrounded by rolls of yellow dust the Libyan corps was approaching deliberately, and seemed like a serpent some miles in length, with blue, white, and red spots on its body.

At its head marched from ten to twenty horsemen, one of whom, wearing a white mantle, was sitting on his horse as on a bench, both his legs on the left side of the animal. Behind the horsemen marched a crowd of slingers in gray shirts, then some dignitary in a litter, over whom a large parasol was carried. Farther was a division of spearmen in blue and red shirts, then a great band of men almost naked, armed with clubs, again slingers and spearmen, behind them a red division with scythes and axes. They came on more or less in ranks of four; but in spite of shouts of officers, that order was interrupted, and each four treading on others, broke ranks continually.

Singing and talking loudly, the Libyan serpent crawled out into the broadest part of the valley, opposite the huts and the Soda Lakes. Order was disturbed now more considerably. Those marching in advance stopped, for it had been said that there would be a halt at that point; the columns behind hurried so as to reach the halt and rest all the earlier. Some ran out of the ranks, and laying down their weapons, rushed into the lake, or took up in their palms its malodorous water; others, sitting on the ground, took dates from bags, or drank vinegar and water from their bottles.

High above the camp floated a number of vultures.

Unspeakable sadness and terror seized Ramses at this spectacle. Before his eyes flies began to circle; for the twinkle of an eye he lost consciousness; it seemed to him that he would have yielded his throne not to be at that place, and not to see what was going to happen. He hurried down from the cliff looking with wandering eyes straight out in front of him.

At that moment Pentuer approached and pulled him by the arm vigorously.

"Recover, leader," said he; "Patrokles is waiting for orders."

"Patrokles?" repeated the prince, and he looked around quickly.

Before him stood Pentuer, deathly pale, but collected. A couple of steps farther on was Tutmosis, also pale; in his trembling hand was an officer's whistle. From behind the hill bent forth soldiers, on whose faces deep emotion was evident.

"Ramses," repeated Pentuer, "the army is waiting."

The prince looked at the priest with desperate decision.

"Begin!" said he in a stifled whisper.

Pentuer raised his glittering talisman, and made some signs in the air with it. Tutmosis gave a low whistle; that whistle was repeated in distant ravines on the right and the left. Egyptian slingers began to climb up the hillsides.

It was about midday.

Ramses recovered gradually from his first impressions and looked around carefully. He saw his staff, a division of spearmen and axemen under veteran officers, finally slingers, advancing along the cliff leisurely. And he was convinced that not one of those men had the wish to die or even to fight and move around in that heat, which was terrible.

All at once from the height of some hill was heard a mighty voice, louder than the roar of a lion,

"Soldiers of the pharaoh, slay those Libyan dogs! The gods are with you."

To this unearthly voice answered two voices no less powerful: the prolonged shout of the Egyptian army, and the immense outcry of the Libyans.

The prince had no need to conceal himself longer, and ascended an eminence whence he could see the hostile forces distinctly. Before him stretched a long line of Egyptian slingers who seemed as if they had grown up from the earth, and a couple of hundred yards distant the Libyan column moving forward in dust clouds. The trumpets, the whistles, the curses of barbarian officers were heard calling to order. Those who were sitting sprang up; those who were drinking snatched their weapons and ran to their places; chaotic throngs developed into ranks, and all this took place amid outcries and tumult. Meanwhile the Egyptian slingers cast a number of missiles each minute. They were as calm and well ordered as at a maneuver. The decurions indicated to their men the hostile crowds against which they must strike, and in the course of some minutes they covered them with a shower of stones and leaden bullets. The prince saw that after every such shower a Libyan crowd scattered and very often one man remained on the earth behind the others.

Still the Libyan ranks formed and withdrew outside the reach of missiles, then their slingers pushed forward and with equal swiftness and coolness replied to the Egyptians. At times there were bursts of laughter in their ranks and shouts of delight at the fall of some Egyptian slinger.

Soon above the heads of the prince and his retinue stones began to whizz and whistle. One, cast adroitly, struck the arm of an adjutant, and broke the bone in it; another knocked the helmet from a second adjutant; a third, falling at the prince's feet, was broken against the cliff and struck the leader's face with fragments as hot as boiling water.

The Libyans laughed loudly and shouted out something: apparently they were abusing the viceroy.

Fear and, above all, compassion and pity left the soul of Ramses in an instant. He saw before him no longer people threatened by death and anguish, but lines of savage beasts which he had to kill or deprive of weapons. Mechanically he reached for his sword to lead on the spearmen awaiting command, but he was restrained by contempt of the enemy. Was he to stain himself with the blood of that rabble? Warriors were there for that purpose.

Meanwhile the battle continued, and the brave Libyan slingers, while shouting and even singing, began to press forward. From both sides missiles whizzed like beetles, buzzed like bees, sometimes they struck one another in the air with a crack, and every minute or two on this side or that some warrior went to the rear groaning, or fell dead immediately. But this did not spoil the humor of others: they fought with malicious delight, which gradually changed to rage and self oblivion.

Then from afar on the right wing were heard sounds of trumpets, and shouts repeated frequently. That was the unterrified Patrokles; drunk since daylight, he was attacking the rear guard of Libya.

"Charge!" said the prince.

Immediately that order was repeated by one, two, ten trumpets, and after a moment the Egyptian companies pushed out from all the ravines. The slingers disposed on the hilltops redoubled their efforts, while in the valley, without haste, but also without disorder, the Egyptian spearmen and axemen arranged in four columns moved forward gradually.

"Strengthen the centre," said the prince.

A trumpet repeated the command. Behind two columns of the first line two new columns were placed. Before the Egyptians had finished that maneuver, under a storm of missiles, the Libyans, following their example, had arranged themselves in eight columns against the main corps of Egypt.

"Forward, reserves!" shouted the prince. "See," said he, turning to one of the adjutants, "whether the left wing is ready."

To see the valley at a glance, and more accurately, the adjutant rushed in among the slingers, and fell immediately, but beckoned with his hand. Another rushed to replace him and returned quickly to state that both wings of the prince's division were drawn up in order.

From the division commanded by Patrokles came an increasing uproar, and higher than the hill dense rolls of dark smoke were rising.

An officer from Pentuer ran to the prince reporting that the Libyan camp had been fired by the Greek regiments.

"Force the centre!" cried Ramses.

Trumpet after trumpet sounded the attack, and when they had ceased the command was heard in the central column, and then followed the rhythmic roll of drums and the beat of the infantry step, marching slowly and in time: one two! one two! one two! The command was repeated on the right and on the left wing; again drums rolled and the wing columns moved forward: one two! one two!

The Libyan slingers began to withdraw, showering stones on the marching Egyptians. But though one warrior fell after another, the columns moved on without stopping; they marched slowly, regularly, one two! one two! one two!

The yellow cloud, growing ever denser, indicated the march of the Egyptian battalions. The slingers could hurl stones no longer, and there came a comparative quiet in the midst of which were heard sobs and groans from wounded warriors.

"It is rare that they march on review so well," cried Ramses to the staff officers.

"They are not afraid of sticks this time," grumbled a veteran officer.

The space between the dust cloud around the Egyptians and that on the Libyan side decreased every minute, but the barbarians, halting, stood motionless, and behind their line a second cloud made its appearance. Evidently some reserve was strengthening the central column, which was threatened by the wildest of onsets.

The heir ran down from his eminence and mounted; the last Egyptian reserves poured out of the ravines, fixed themselves in ranks, and waited for the order. Behind the infantry pushed out some hundreds of Asiatic horsemen on small but enduring horses.

The prince hurried after the columns advancing to attack, and when he had gone a hundred yards he found a new eminence, not high, but from which he could see the whole field of battle. The retinue, the Asiatic cavalry, and the reserve column hurried after him.

The prince looked impatiently toward the left wing whence

Mentezufis had to come, but he was not coming. The Libyans stood immovable, the situation seemed more and more serious.

The viceroy's division was the stronger, but against it were arrayed almost all the Libyan forces. The two sides were equal as to numbers; the prince had no doubt of victory, but he dreaded the immense loss since his opponent was so manful.

Besides, battle has caprices.

Over men who have gone to attack, the leader's influence has ceased, he controls them no longer; Ramses has only a regiment of reserves, and a handful of cavalry. If one of the Egyptian columns is beaten, or if reinforcements come to the foe unexpectedly!

The prince rubbed his forehead at this thought. He felt all the responsibility of a leader. He was like a dice thrower who has staked all he owns, cast his dice, and asks, "How will they come out?"

The Egyptians are a few tens of yards from the Libyan columns. The command, the trumpets, the drums sound hurriedly, and the troops move at a run: one two three! one two three! But on the side of the enemy also a trumpet is heard, two ranks of spears are lowered, drums beat. At a run! New rolls of dust rise, then they unite in one immense cloud. The roar of human voices, the rattle of spears, the biting of scythes, then a shrill groan which is soon lost in one general uproar.

Along the whole line of battle neither men, nor weapons, nor even columns are visible, nothing but a line of yellow, dust stretching along like a giant serpent. The denser cloud signifies places where the columns are struggling; the thinner, where there are breaks in the columns.

After some minutes of satanic uproar the heir sees that the dust on his left wing is bending back very slowly.

"Strengthen the left wing!" shouts Ramses.

One half of the reserve runs to the place pointed out, and disappears in the sand cloud; the left wing straightens itself, the right goes forward slowly always in one direction.

"Strengthen the centre!" cries Ramses.

The second half of the reserve advances and vanishes in the sand cloud. The shout increased for a moment, but no forward movement is visible.

"Those wretches fight desperately," said an old officer of the suite to Ramses. "It is high time that Mentezufis were here."

The prince summoned the leader of the Asiatic cavalry.

"But look to the right," said he; "there must be a bend there."

"Go cautiously so as not to trample our warriors and attack those dogs in their central column, on the flank."

"They must be chained, for somehow they stand too long," replied the Asiatic, smiling.

The prince has now about two hundred of his own cavalry, and these advance, with the others, at a trot, crying,

"May our chief live forever!"

The heat passes description. The prince strains eyes and ears to see through the sand cloud. He waits and waits. All at once he shouts with delight. The centre of the cloud quivers and moves forward slightly.

Again it stops, again it moves forward slowly, very slowly, but still it moves forward.

The din is so tremendous that no one can decide what it means: rage, defeat, or victory.

Now the right wing begins to bend outward and withdraw in a strange manner. In the rear of the wing appears a new dust cloud. At the same moment Pentuer races up, dismounts, and shouts,

"Patrokles is engaging the rear of the Libyans!"

The confusion on the right wing increases, and is passing to the centre. It is clear that the Libyans are beginning to withdraw, and that panic is seizing even their main column.

The whole staff of the prince, roused to the uttermost, follows the movements of the yellow dust, feverishly. In a few minutes alarm appears on the left wing. The Libyans have begun to flee in that quarter.

"May I never see another sun, if this is not a victory!" cried a veteran officer.

A courier rushes in from the priests, who from the highest hill had followed the course of the battle, and reports that on the left wing the troops of Mentezufis are visible, and that the Libyans are surrounded on three sides.

"They would fly like deer if the sand did not hinder them."

"Victory! May our chief live forever!" cried Pentuer.

It was only two hours after midday.

The Asiatic cavalry sing loudly, and send arrows into the air in honor of Ramses. The staff officers discount, and rush to kiss the hands and feet of the viceroy; at last they take him from the saddle, raise him in the air, shouting,

"Here is a mighty leader! He has trampled the enemies of Egypt! Amon is on his right, and on his left, who can oppose him?"

Meanwhile the Libyans, pushing back all the time, had ascended the sandy hills on the south, and after them Egyptians. From out the cloud came horsemen every minute and rushed to Ramses.

"Mentezufis has taken them in the rear!" cried one.

"Two hundred have surrendered!" cried another.

"Patrokles has taken them in the rear!"

"Three Libyan standards are captured: the ram, the lion, and the sparrow-hawk!"

More and more men gathered round the staff: it was surrounded by warriors who were bloody and dust-covered.

"May he live through eternity! May he live through eternity, our leader!"

The prince was so excited, that he laughed and cried in turn and said to his retinue,

"The gods have been compassionate. I feared that we had lost. Evil is the plight of a leader; without drawing a sword and even without seeing, he must answer for everything!"

"Live thou, O conquering commander, live through eternity!" cried the warriors.

"A fine victory for me!" laughed Ramses. "I do not know even how they won it."

"He wins a victory, and wonders how it came!" cried some one in the retinue.

"I say that I saw not the face of the battle," explained the prince.

"Be at rest, our commander," said Pentuer. "Thou didst dispose the army so wisely that the enemy had to be beaten. And in what way? Just as if that did not belong to thee, but the regiments."

"I did not even draw a sword. I do not see one Libyan," complained the prince.

On the southern heights there was a struggling and a seething, but in the valley the dust had begun to settle here and there, and a crowd of Egyptian soldiers were visible as through a mist, their spears pointed upward.

Ramses turned his horse in that direction and rode out to the deserted field of battle, where just recently had been the struggle of the central column. It was a place some hundreds of yards in width, with deep furrows filled with bodies of the dead and wounded. On the side along which the prince was approaching, Egyptians and Libyans lay intermixed, in a long line, still farther on there were almost none except Libyans.

In places bodies lay close to bodies; sometimes on one spot three or four were piled one on another. The sand was stained with brownish blood patches; the wounds were ghastly. Both hands were cut from one man, another had his head split to the body, from a third man, the entrails were dropping. Some were howling in convulsions, and from their mouths, filled with sand, came forth curses, or prayers imploring some one to slay them.

Ramses passed along hastily, not looking around, though some of the wounded men shouted feebly in his honor.

Not far from that place he met the first crowd of prisoners. They fell on their faces before him and begged for compassion.

"Proclaim pardon to the conquered and the obedient," said he to his staff.

A number of horsemen rushed off in various directions. Soon a trumpet was heard, and after it a piercing voice,

"By the order of his worthiness the prince in command, prisoners and wounded are not to be slain!"

In answer came wild shouts, evidently from prisoners.

"At command of the prince," a second voice cried in singing tones in another direction, "prisoners and wounded are not to be slain!"

Meanwhile on the southern heights the battle ceased and two of the largest Libyan divisions laid down their arms before the Greek regiments.

The valiant Patrokles, in consequence of the heat, as he said himself of ardent drink, as thought others barely held himself in the saddle. He rubbed his tearful eyes, and turned to the prisoners.

"Mangy dogs!" cried he, "who raise sinful hands on the army of his holiness (may the worms devour you)! Ye will perish like lice under the nail of a pious Egyptian, if ye do not tell this minute where your leader is, may leprosy eat off his nose and drink his blear eyes out!"

At that moment the prince appeared. The general greeted him with respect, but did not stop his investigation.

"I will have belts cut from your bodies! I will impale you on stakes, if I do not learn this minute where that poisonous reptile is, that son of a wild boar."

"Ei! where our leader is?" cried one of the Libyans, pointing to a little crowd on horseback which was advancing slowly in the depth of the desert.

"What is that?" inquired the prince.

"The wretch Musawasa is fleeing!" said Patrokles, and he almost fell to the ground.

The blood rushed to Ramses' head.

Then Musawasa was here and escaped?

"Hei! whoso has the best horse, follow me!"

"Well," said Patrokles, laughing, "that sheep-stealer himself will bleat now!"

Pentuer stopped the way to the prince.

"It is not for thee to hunt fugitives, worthiness."

"What?" cried the heir. "During this whole battle I did not raise a hand on any man, and now I am to give up the Libyan leader? What would be said by the warriors whom I have sent out under spears and axes?"

"The army cannot remain without a leader."

"But are not Patrokles, Tutmosis, and finally Mentezufis, here? For what purpose am I commander if I cannot hunt the enemy? They are a few hundred yards from us and have tired horses."

"We will come back in an hour with him. He is only an arm's length from us!" whispered some Asiatic.

"Patrokles, Tutmosis, I leave the army to you!" cried the heir. "Rest. I will come back immediately."

He put spurs to his horse and advanced at a trot, sinking in the sand, and behind him about twenty horsemen, with Pentuer.

"Why art Thou here, O prophet?" asked Ramses. "Better sleep today Thou hast rendered good service."

"I may be of use yet," added Pentuer.

"But remain I command thee!"

"The supreme council commands me not to go one step from thee, worthiness."

Ramses shook himself angrily.

"But if we fall into an ambush?"

"I will not leave thee in ambush," answered the priest.



CHAPTER XLIV

THERE was in his voice so much kindliness that the astonished prince was silent and let him go.

They were in the desert; a couple of hundred yards behind them was an army; in front were fugitives several hundred yards in advance. But though they beat and urged on their horses, the fleeing, as well as the pursuers, advanced with great difficulty. The sun poured from above dreadful heat on them, the fine but sharp dust pushed itself into their mouths, into their nostrils, into their eyes above all; under their horses' feet the burning sand gave way at every step. In the air reigned a deathlike silence.

"But it will not continue like this," said Ramses.

"It will be worse and worse," answered Pentuer. "Dost Thou see, worthiness," he indicated the fugitives, "their horses are in sand to their knees?"

The prince laughed, for at that moment they came out on ground which was firmer, and trotted about a hundred yards. But soon their road was confronted by a sea of sand, and again they advanced step by step slowly.

Sweat poured from the men, there was foam on the horses.

"It is hot!" whispered the heir.

"Listen, lord," said Pentuer, "this is not a good day for hunting in the desert. This morning the sacred insects showed great disquiet, then dropped into lethargy. Also my knife of a priest went down very little in the earthen scabbard, which means intense heat. Both these phenomena the heat, and the lethargy of insects may announce a tempest. Let us return, for not only have we lost sight of the camp, but even sounds from there do not reach to us."

Ramses looked at the priest almost contemptuously.

"And dost Thou think, O prophet," said he, "that I, having once commanded the capture of Musawasa, can return empty handed because I fear heat and a tempest?"

They went on without stopping. At one place there was hard ground again, thanks to which they approached the fugitives to within the distance of a sling cast.

"Hei, ye there!" cried the heir, "yield."

The Libyans did not even look behind, and waded on through the sand with great effort. After a while one might suppose that they would be overtaken. Soon again, however, the prince's party struck on deep sand while the Libyans hastening forward vanished beyond an elevation.

The Asiatics cursed, the prince gritted his teeth.

At last the horses began to stumble more and to be weary, so the riders had to dismount and go on foot. All at once an Asiatic grew purple, and fell on the sand. The prince commanded to cover him with a mantle, and said,

"We will take him on the way back."

After great toil they reached the top of the sand height, and saw the Libyans. For them too the road had been murderous, two of their horses had stopped.

The camp of the Egyptian army was hidden completely behind the rolling land, and if Pentuer and the Asiatics had not known how to guide themselves by the sun they could not have gone back to the camping- place. In the prince's party another man fell, and threw bloody foam from his mouth. He was left, with his horse. To finish their trouble, on the outline of the sands stood a group of cliffs; among these the Libyans vanished.

"Lord," said Pentuer, "that may be an ambush."

"Let it be death, and let it take me!" replied the heir, in a changed voice.

The priest gazed at him with wonder; he had not supposed such resolve in Ramses.

The cliffs were not distant, but the road was laborious beyond description. They had not only to walk themselves, but to drag their horses out of the soft sand. They waded, sinking below their ankles; they sank to their knees even in some places.

Meanwhile the sun was flaming above them, that dreadful sun of the desert, every ray of which not only baked and blinded, but pricked also. The men dropped from weariness: in one, tongue and lips were swollen; another had a roaring in his head, and saw black patches before his eyes; drowsiness seized a third, all felt pain in their joints, and lost the sensation of heat. Had any one asked if it were hot, they would not have answered.

The ground grew firm under their feet again, and the party passed in between the cliffs.

The prince, who had more presence of mind than those who were with him, heard the snorting of horses; he turned to one side, and in the shade cast by the cliff saw a crowd of people lying as each man had dropped. Those were the Libyans.

One of them, a youth of twenty years, wore an embroidered purple shirt, a gold chain was around his neck, and he carried a sword richly mounted. He seemed unconscious; the eyes were turned in his head, and there was foam on his lips. In him Ramses recognized the chief. He approached him, drew the chain from his neck, and unfastened his sword.

Some old Libyan who seemed less wearied than others, seeing this, called out,

"Though Thou art victor, Egyptian, respect the prince's son, who is chief."

"Is he the son of Musawasa?" asked Ramses.

"Thou hast spoken truth," replied the Libyan. "This is Tehenna, the son of Musawasa; he is our leader; he is worthy to be even prince of Egypt."

"But where is Musawasa?"

"In Glaucus. He will collect a great army and avenge us."

The other Libyans said nothing; they did not even look at their conquerors.

At command of Ramses the Asiatics disarmed them without the least trouble, and sat down in the shade themselves.

At that moment they were all neither enemies nor friends, only men who were mortally wearied. Death was hovering over all, but beyond rest they had no desire.

Pentuer, seeing that Tehenna remained unconscious, knelt near him and bent above his head so that no one saw what he was doing. Soon Tehenna sighed, struggled, and opened his eyes; then he sat up, rubbed his forehead, as if roused from a deep steep, which had not yet left him.

"Tehenna, leader of the Libyans, Thou and thy people are prisoners of his holiness," said Ramses.

"Better slay me here," said Tehenna, "if I must lose my freedom."

"If thy father, Musawasa, will submit and make peace with Egypt, Thou wilt be free and happy."

The Libyan turned his face aside, and lay down careless of everything; he seemed to be sleeping.

He came to himself, in a quarter of an hour, somewhat fresher. He gazed at the desert and cried out with delight: on the horizon a green country was visible, water, many palms, and somewhat higher, a town and a temple.

Around him all were sleeping, both Asiatics and Libyans. But Pentuer, standing on a rock, had shaded his eyes with his hand and was looking in some direction.

"Pentuer! Pentuer!" cried Ramses. "Dost Thou see that oasis?"

He sprang up and ran to the priest, whose face was full of anxiety.

"Dost Thou see the oasis?"

"That is no oasis," said Pentuer; "that is the ghost of some region which is wandering about through the desert a region no longer in existence. But over there over there is reality!" added he, pointing southward.

"Are they mountains?"

"Look more sharply."

The prince looked, and saw something suddenly.

"It seems to me that a dark mass is rising my sight must be dulled."

"That is Typhon," whispered the priest. "The gods alone have power to save us, if only they have the wish."

Indeed, Ramses felt on his face a breath, which amid the heat of the desert seemed all at once hot to him. That breath, at first very delicate, increased, growing hotter and hotter, and at the same time the dark streak rose in the sky with astonishing swiftness.

"What shall we do?" asked Ramses.

"These cliffs," said the priest, "will shelter us from being covered with sand, but they will not keep away dust or the heat which is increasing continually. But in a day or two days."

"Does Typhon blow that long?"

"Sometimes three and four days. But sometimes he springs up for a couple of hours, and drops suddenly, like a vulture pierced with an arrow. That happens very rarely."

The prince became gloomy, though he did not lose courage. The priest, drawing from under his mantle a little green flask, said,

"Here is an elixir. It should last thee a number of days. Whenever Thou art afraid, or feel drowsy, drink a drop. In that way Thou wilt be strengthened and endure."

"But thou, and the others?"

"My fate is in the hands of the One. As to the rest of the people, they are not heirs to the throne of Egypt."

"I do not wish this liquid!" cried the prince, pushing away the little bottle.

"Thou must take it!" said Pentuer. "Remember that the Egyptian people have fixed their hopes on thee. Remember that on thee is their blessing."

The black cloud had covered half the sky, and the hot wind blew with such force that the prince and priest had to go to the foot of the cliff.

"The Egyptian people? their blessing?" repeated Ramses.

All at once he called out,

"Was it Thou who conversed with me a year ago in the garden? That was immediately after the maneuvers."

"That same day, when Thou hadst compassion on the man who hanged himself through despair because his canal was destroyed," answered the priest.

"Thou didst save my house and the Jewess Sarah from the rabble who wished to stone her."

"I did," said Pentuer. "And soon after Thou didst free the innocent laborers from prison, and didst not permit Dagon to torture thy people with new tribute."

"For this people," continued the priest in a louder voice, "for the compassion which Thou hast always shown them I bless thee again today. Perhaps Thou art the only one who will be saved here, but remember that the oppressed people of Egypt will save thee, they who look to thee for redemption."

Hereupon it grew dark; from the south came a shower of hot sand, and such a mighty wind rose that it threw down a horse that was standing in the open. The Asiatics and the Libyan prisoners all woke, but each man merely pressed up to the cliff more closely, and possessed by great fear remained silent.

In nature something dreadful was happening. Night covered the earth, and through the sky black or ruddy clouds of sand rushed with mad impetus. It seemed as though all the sand of the desert, now alive, had sprung up and was flying to some place with the speed of a stone whirled from the sling of a warrior.

The heat was like that in a bath: on the hands and feet the skin burst, the tongue dried, breath produced a pricking in the breast. The fine grains of sand burnt like fire sparks.

Pentuer forced the bottle to the prince's lips. Ramses drank a couple of drops and felt a marvelous change: the pain and heat ceased to torment him; his thought regained freedom.

"And this may last a couple of days?" asked he.

"It may last four," replied Pentuer.

"But ye sages, favorites of the gods, have ye no means of saving people from such a tempest?"

The priest thought awhile, and answered,

"In the world there is only one sage who can struggle with evil spirits. But he is not here."

Typhon had been blowing for half an hour with inconceivable fury. It had become almost like night. At moments the wind weakened, the black clouds pushed apart; in the sky was a bloody sun, on the earth an ominous light of ruddy color. The hot stifling wind grew more violent, the clouds of sand thicker. The ghastly light was extinguished, and in the air were heard sounds and noises to which human ears are not accustomed.

It was near sunset, but the violence of the tempest increased, and the unendurable heat rose' continually. From time to time a gigantic bloody spot appeared above the horizon, as if a world fire were coming.

All at once the prince saw that Pentuer was not before him. He strained his ear and heard a voice, crying,

"Beroes! Beroes! If Thou cannot help us, who can? Beroes! in the name of the One, the Almighty, who knows neither end nor beginning, I call on thee."

On the northern extremity of the desert, thunder was heard. The prince was frightened, since thunder for an Egyptian was almost as rare a phenomenon as a comet.

"Beroes! Beroes!" repeated the priest in a deep voice.

Ramses strained his eyes in the direction of the voice, and saw a dark human figure with arms uplifted. From the head, the fingers, and even from the clothing of that figure, light bluish sparks were flashing.

"Beroes! Beroes!"

A prolonged roar of thunder was heard nearer; lightning gleamed amid clouds of sand, and filled the desert with lurid flashes.

A fresh peal of thunder, and again lightning.

The prince felt that the violence of the tempest was decreasing, and the heat also. The sand which had been whirled through the air began to fall to the earth now, the sky became ashen gray, next ruddy, next milk-colored. At last all was silent, and after a while thunder was heard again, and a cool breeze from the north appeared.

The Asiatics and Libyans, tormented by heat, regained consciousness.

"Warriors of the pharaoh," said the old Libyan on a sudden, "do ye hear that noise in the desert?"

"Will there be another tempest?"

"No; that is rain."

In fact some cold drops fell from the sky, then more of them, till at last there was a downpour accompanied by thunder.

Among the soldiers of Ramses and their prisoners mad delight sprang up suddenly. Without caring for the thunder and lightning the men, who a moment before had been scorched with heat, and tormented by thirst, ran under the rain like small children. In the dark they washed themselves and their horses, they caught water in their caps and leather bags, and above all they drank and drank eagerly.

"Is not this a miracle?" cried Ramses. "Were it not for this blessed rain we should all perish here in the burning grasp of Typhon."

"It happens," said the old Libyan, "that the southern sandy wind rouses a wind from the sea and brings heavy rain to us."

Ramses was touched disagreeably by these words, for he had attributed the downpour to Pentuer's prayers. He turned to the Libyan, and asked,

"And does it happen that sparks flash from people's bodies?"

"It is always so when the wind blows from the desert," answered the Libyan. "Just now we saw sparks jumping not only from men, but from horses."

In his voice there was such conviction that the prince approaching an officer of his cavalry whispered,

"But look at the Libyans."

When he had said this some one made a noise in the darkness, and after a while tramping was heard. When a flash lighted up the desert they saw a man escaping on horseback.

"Bind these wretches!" cried the prince, "and kill any one who resists you. Woe to thee, Tehenna, if that scoundrel brings thy brethren against us. Ye will perish in dreadful tortures, Thou and thy men here."

In spite of rain, darkness, and thunder the prince's soldiers hurried to bind the Libyans, who made no resistance.

Perhaps they were waiting for Tehenna's command, but he was so crushed that he had not even thought of fleeing.

The storm subsided gradually, and instead of that heat of the daytime a piercing cold seized the desert. The men and horses had drunk all they wanted; the bags were full of water; there were dates and cakes in abundance, so a good disposition prevailed. The thunder grew weak; at last even noiseless lightning flashed less and less frequently; on the northern sky the clouds parted; here and there stars twinkled.

Pentuer approached Ramses,

"Let us return to the camp," said he. "In a couple of hours we shall be there, before the man who has escaped can lead forth an enemy."

"How shall we find the camp in such darkness?" asked Ramses.

"Have ye torches?" asked the priest of the Asiatics.

Torches, or long cords soaked in an inflammable substance they had; but there was no fire, for their wooden fire-drills were rain soaked.

"We must wait till morning," said Ramses, impatiently.

Pentuer made no answer. He took a small instrument from his bag, took a torch from one of the soldiers, and went to one side. After a while there was a low hissing, and the torch was lighted.

"He is a great magician, that priest," muttered the old Libyan.

"Before my eyes Thou hast performed a second miracle," said the prince. "Canst Thou explain to me how that was done?"

The priest shook his head.

"Ask of me anything, lord, and I will answer. But ask not to explain temple secrets."

"Not even if I were to name thee my counselor?"

"Not even then. Never shall I be a traitor, and even if I desired to be one I should be terrified by punishment."

"Punishment?" repeated Ramses. "Aha! I remember in the temple of Hator, that man hidden under the pavement, on whom the priests were pouring burning pitch. Did they do that, indeed, and did that man die really in tortures?"

Pentuer was silent, as if not hearing the question, and drew out slowly from his wonderful bag a small statue of a divinity with crossed arms. The statue depended from a string; the priest let it hang, and whispered a prayer, while he watched it. The statue, after some turnings and quiverings, hung without motion.

Ramses, by the light of the torch, looked at these acts with astonishment.

"What art Thou doing?" asked he.

"I can only say this much to thee, worthiness," replied Pentuer, "that this divinity points with one hand at the star Eshmun. This hand leads Phoenician ships through the sea during night hours."

"Then the Phoenicians, too, have this god?"

"They do not even know of him. The god which points one hand always to the star Eshmun, [Polar Star] is known only to us and the priests of Chaldea. By the aid of this god every prophet night and day, in bad and good weather, can find his way on the sea or in the desert."

At command of the prince, who went with a lighted torch at the side of Pentuer, the retinue and the prisoners followed the priest, northeastward. The god depending from a string trembled, but indicated with outstretched hand, the sacred star, Eshmun, the guardian of travelers.

They went on foot at a good pace, leading the horses. The cold was so sharp, that even Asiatics blew on their hands, and the Libyans trembled.

With that, something began to crackle and break underfoot. Pentuer stopped, and bent down.

"In this place," said he, "rain has made a pool on the rock. And see, worthy lord, what has become of the water."

Thus speaking, he raised and showed the prince what seemed a plate of glass, but which melted in his hand.

"When there is great cold," said he, "water becomes a transparent stone."

The Asiatics confirmed the words of the priest, and added that far away in the north, water turned into stone very often, and fog turned into a white salt which is tasteless, but breaks in the hands and causes pain in the teeth.

The prince admired Pentuer's wisdom still more.

Meanwhile, the northern side of the heavens grew clear, showing the Great Bear and the star, Eshmun. The priest repeated a prayer again, put the-guiding god into his bag, and commanded to quench the torches, and to leave only a burning cord which kept the fire, and indicated time by its gradual burning.

The prince enjoined watchfulness on his men, and taking Pentuer, pushed ahead some tens of paces.

"Pentuer," said he, "from this hour I make thee my counselor, both now and when it shall please the gods to give me the crown of Upper and Lower Egypt."

"How have I deserved this favor?"

"Before my eyes Thou hast done deeds which show great wisdom, and also power over spirits. Besides Thou wert ready to save me. So, although it is thy resolve to keep many things from my knowledge."

"Pardon, lord," interrupted Pentuer. "For gold and jewels, Thou wilt find traitors shouldst Thou need them, among priests even. But I am not of those men. For think, were I to betray the gods, what bond could I give not to betray thee also?"

Ramses grew thoughtful.

"Thou hast answered wisely," said he. "But it is a wonder to me why thou, a priest, hast for me kindness in thy heart. Thou didst bless me a year ago, and today Thou wouldst not let me go alone into the desert, and hast shown me great service."

"Because the gods have forewarned me that Thou art worthy, lord; shouldst Thou wish, Thou mayst rescue the ill-fated people of Egypt."

"How do the people concern thee?"

"I came from them. My father and brother raised water long days from the Nile, and received blows of sticks for their labor."

"How can I aid the people?" asked Ramses.

Pentuer grew animated.

"Thy people," said he, with emotion, "toil too much, they pay too much tribute, they suffer persecution and misery. Hard is the fate of the toiling man. The worm eats half his harvest, the rhinoceros the other half; in the fields, a legion of mice live; the locust devours, the cattle trample, the sparrows steal. What is left after these for the threshing floor the thief takes. Oh, wretched earth-tillers! Now comes the scribe to the boundary and mentions the harvest. His attendants have sticks, and black men carry palm rods. 'Give wheat!' say they. He answers, 'There is none.' They flog him; immediately they stretch him out at full length they bind him; they hurl him into the canal, where they sink him, head downward. They bind his wife in his presence and also his children. His neighbors flee, carrying their wheat away with them." [Original description.]

"I have seen that myself," said Ramses, "and have driven off at least one scribe of that sort. But can I be everywhere to forestall injustice?"

"Thou mayst command, lord, not to torment working-men needlessly. Thou mayst decrease taxes, appoint days of rest for the earth-tillers. Thou mayst give each family a patch of land, even the harvest of which would be theirs, and serve to nourish them. In the opposite case they will feed themselves as they now do, with lotus seeds, rotten fish and papyrus, till thy people will perish finally. But show them favor and they will rise."

"Indeed, I will do so!" said Ramses. "A wise owner will not let cattle starve nor work beyond the strength of their bodies, or be clubbed without reason. This must be changed."

Pentuer halted.

"Dost Thou promise that, worthy lord?"

"I swear!" answered Ramses.

"Then I swear that Thou wilt be the most famous of all pharaohs; before thee the fame of Ramses the Great, will grow pale!" cried the priest, mastering himself no longer.

The prince fell to thinking, then asked,

"What can we two do against those priests who hate me?"

"They fear thee, lord," answered Pentuer. "They fear lest Thou begin war too soon against Assyria?"

"What is that to them if the war be successful?"

The priest bent his head and spread his hands, but was silent.

"Then I will tell thee," cried the prince, in anger. "They want no war! They fear that I might return from it a conqueror, laden with treasures, urging on slaves in front of me. They fear this because they wish every pharaoh to be a weak tool in their grasp, a utensil of no real value, a utensil to be thrown aside when the wish comes. But this will not happen in my case. Either I shall do what I plan, and which I, as the son and heir of the gods have the right to do, or I shall perish."

Pentuer drew back, and muttered an exorcism.

"Speak not thus, worthy lord," said he, in confusion, "lest evil spirits circling through the desert may seize thy words. A word, remember this, ruler, is like a stone sent from a sling; it may strike a wall, rebound, and hit the man who hurled it."

The prince motioned with his hand contemptuously.

"It is all one," replied he. "A life in which every one stops my will has no worth for me. When the gods do not bar me, the winds of the desert do; when evil spirits are not against me, the priests are. Is the power of a pharaoh to be of such sort. I wish to do what my mind says, to give account to my deathless ancestors, and to them only, not to this or that shaven head, who pretends to interpret the will of divinity, but who is really seizing power, and turning my wealth to his own use."

At some tens of yards from them a strange cry was heard at that moment, half neighing, half bleating, and an immense shadow sped past. It went like an arrow, and as far as could be seen had a humped back and a long neck.

From the prince's retinue came sounds of fear.

"That is a griffin! I saw its wings clearly," said one and another of the Asiatics.

"The desert is swarming with monsters," added the old Libyan.

Ramses was afraid; he also thought that the passing shadow had the head of a serpent, and something resembling short wings.

"Do monsters really show themselves in the desert?" asked he of the priest.

"It is true," said Pentuer, "that in such a lonely place evil spirits prowl about in strange guises. But it seems to me that that which has passed is rather a beast. It is like a saddle horse, only larger and quicker in movement. Dwellers in the oases say that this beast may live without drinking water at all, or at least very rarely. If that be the case, men hereafter may in crossing deserts use this strange creature, which today rouses fear only."

"I should not dare to sit on the back of a great beast like that," said Ramses, as he shook his head.

"Our ancestors said the same of the horse, which helped the Hyksos to conquer Egypt, but today it is indispensable to our army. Time changes men's judgments greatly," said Pentuer.

The last clouds had vanished from the sky and a clear night set in. Though the moon was absent the air was so clear that on the background of the white sand a man could distinguish the general outline of objects, even when small or distant. The piercing cold also diminished. All advanced now in silence, and sank, as they walked, in the sand to their ankles. Suddenly a tumult and cries rose among the Asiatics,

"A sphinx! Look, a sphinx! We shall not escape from this desert if specters show themselves all the time."

Indeed, outlines of a sphinx on a white limestone hill were seen very clearly. The body of a lion, an immense head with an Egyptian cap, and as it were a human profile.

"Calm yourselves, barbarians," said the old Libyan. "That is no sphinx; it is a lion, and he will do no harm, for he is occupied in eating."

"Indeed, that is a lion!" confirmed the prince halting. "But how he resembles a sphinx."

"He is the father of our sphinxes," added the priest in a low voice. "His face recalls a man's features, his mane is the wig."

"And our great sphinx, that at the pyramids?"

"Many ages before Menes," said Pentuer, "when there were no pyramids yet, there was on that spot a rock which looked like a recumbent lion, as if the gods wished in that way to indicate the beginning of the desert. The holy priests of that period commanded artists to hew the rock around with more accuracy and to fill out its lacks by additions. The artists, seeing people oftener than lions, cut out the face of a man, and thus the first sphinx had its origin."

"To which we give divine honor," said the prince, smiling.

"And justly," answered the priest. "For the gods made the first features of this work and men finished them under divine guidance. Our sphinx by its size and mysteriousness recalls the desert. It has the posture of spirits wandering through it, and terrifies men as does the desert. That sphinx is really the son of the gods and the father of terror."

"Everything has in its own way an earthly beginning," answered the prince. "The Nile does not flow from heaven, but from certain mountains which lie beyond Ethiopia. The pyramids, which Herhor said were an image of our state, are built on the model of mountain summits. And our temples, too, with their pylons and obelisks, with their gloom and coolness, do they not recall caves and mountains, extending along the Nile valley? How many times in hunting have I not gone astray among eastern ridges! I have always struck upon some strange collection of rocks which recalled a temple. Frequently even, on their rough sides, I have seen hieroglyphs written by wind and by rainstorms."

"In that, worthiness, Thou hast proof," said Pentuer, "that our temples were reared on a plan which the gods themselves outlined. And as a small kernel cast into the ground gives birth to a heaven-touching palm tree, so the picture of a cliff, a cave, a lion, even a lotus, placed in the soul of a pious pharaoh, gives birth to an alley of sphinxes, to temples and their mighty columns. Those are the works of divinities, not men, and happy is the ruler who when he looks can discover divine thought in earthly objects and present it in a form pleasing to future generations."

"But such a ruler must have power, much wealth, and not depend on the fancies of priests," interrupted Ramses.

Before them extended a second sandy elevation, on which at that moment appeared some horsemen.

"Are they our men, or the Libyans?" asked Ramses.

The sound of a horn was heard from the eminence; to this an answer was given by the prince's retinue. The horsemen came down as quickly as the deep sand would let them. When they had approached one cried out,

"Is the heir to the throne here?"

"He is, and is well!" cried Ramses.

They dismounted and fell on their faces.

"Oh, Erpatr!" cried the leader of the newly arrived, "thy troops are rending their garments and scattering dust on their heads, thinking that Thou hast perished. All the cavalry has scattered over the desert to find traces, while the gods have permitted us, the unworthy, to be first to greet thee."

The prince named the man a centurion and commanded him to present his subordinates for a reward on the morrow.



CHAPTER XLV

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.