by G. A. Henty
“It has gone off splendidly,” Amense said to Ameres when all was over, and the last guest had been helped away by his servants; for there were many who were unable to walk steadily unaided. “Nothing could have been better—it will be the talk of the whole town; and I could see Nicotis was devoured by envy and vexation. I do think great credit is due to me, Ameres, for you have really done nothing toward the preparations.”
“I am perfectly willing that you should have all the credit, Amense,” Ameres said wearily, “and I am glad that you are satisfied. To me the whole thing is tedious and tiresome to a degree. All this superabundance of food, this too lavish use of wine, and the postures and antics of the actors and dancers is simply disgusting. However, if everyone else was pleased, of course I am content.”
“You are the most unsatisfactory husband a woman ever had,” Amense said angrily. “I do believe you would be perfectly happy shut up in your study with your rolls of manuscript all your life, without seeing another human being save a black slave to bring you in bread and fruit and water twice a day.”
“I think I should, my dear,” Ameres replied calmly. “At any rate, I should prefer it vastly to such a waste of time, and that in a form to me so disagreeable as that I have had to endure today.”
CHAPTER IX
A STARTLING EVENT
It was some days later that Chebron and Amuba again paid a visit to the temple by moonlight. It was well-nigh a month since they had been there; for, save when the moon was up, the darkness and gloom of the courts, lighted only by the lamps of the altars, was so great that the place offered no attractions. Amuba, free from the superstitions which influenced his companion, would have gone with him had he proposed it, although he too felt the influence of the darkness and the dim, weird figures of the gods, seen but faintly by the lights that burned at their feet. But to Chebron, more imaginative and easily affected, there was something absolutely terrible in the gloomy darkness, and nothing would have induced him to wander in the silent courts save when the moon threw her light upon them.
On entering one of the inner courts they found a massive door in the wall standing ajar.
“Where does this lead to?” Amuba asked.
“I do not know. I have never seen it open before. I think it must have been left unclosed by accident. We will see where it leads to.”
Opening it they saw in front of them a flight of stairs in the thickness of the wall.
“It leads up to the roof,” Chebron said in surprise. “I knew not there were any stairs to the roof, for when repairs are needed the workmen mount by ladders.”
“Let us go up, Chebron; it will be curious to look down upon the courts.”
“Yes, but we must be careful, Amuba; for, did any below catch sight of us, they might spread an alarm.”
“We need only stay there a minute or two,” Amuba urged. “There are so few about that we are not likely to be seen, for if we walk noiselessly none are likely to cast their eyes so far upward.”
So saying Amuba led the way up the stairs, and Chebron somewhat reluctantly followed him. They felt their way as they went, and after mounting for a considerable distance found that the stairs ended in a narrow passage, at the end of which was an opening scarce three feet high and just wide enough for a man to pass through. This evidently opened into the outer air, as sufficient light passed through to enable them to see where they were standing. Amuba crept out through the opening at the end. Beyond was a ledge a foot wide; beyond that rose a dome some six feet high and eight or ten feet along the ledge.
“Come on, Chebron; there is plenty of room for both of us,” he said, looking backward. Chebron at once joined him.
“Where can we be?” Amuba asked. “There is the sky overhead. We are twenty feet from the top of the wall, and where this ledge ends, just before it gets to the sides of this stone, it seems to go straight down.”
Chebron looked round him.
“This must be the head of one of the statues,” he said after a pause. “What a curious place! I wonder what it can have been made for. See, there is a hole here!”
Just in front of them was an opening of some six inches in diameter in the stone.
Amuba pushed his hand down.
“It seems to go a long way down,” he said;. “but it is narrowing,” and removing his arm he looked down the hole.
“There is an opening at the other end,” he said;. “a small narrow slit. It must have been made to enable any one standing here to see down, though I don’t think they could see much through so small a hole. I should think, Chebron, if this is really the top of the head of one of the great figures, that slit must be where his lips are. Don’t you think so?”
Chebron agreed that it was probable.
“In that case,” Amuba went on, “I should say that this hole must be made to allow the priests to give answers through the mouth of the image to supplications made to it. I have heard that the images sometimes gave answers to the worshipers. Perhaps this is the secret of it.”
Chebron was silent. The idea was a painful one to him; for if this were so, it was evident that trickery was practiced.
“I think we had better go,” he said at last. “We have done wrong in coming up here.”
“Let me peep over the side first,” Amuba said. “It seems to me that I can hear voices below.”
But the projection of the head prevented his seeing anything beyond. Returning he put his foot in the hole and raised himself sufficiently to get on the top of the stone, which was here so much flattened that there was no risk of falling off. Leaning forward he looked over the edge. As Amuba had guessed would be the case, he found himself on the head of the principal idol in the temple. Gathered round the altar at its foot were seven or eight men, all of whom he knew by the whiteness of their garment to be priests. Listening intently he could distinctly hear their words. After waiting a minute he crawled back.
“Come up here, Chebron; there is something important going on.”
Chebron joined him, and the two, lying close together, looked down at the court.
“I tell you we must do away with him,” one of the group below said in tones louder than had been hitherto used. “You know as well as I do that his heart is not in the worship of the gods. He has already shown himself desirous of all sorts of innovations, and unless we take matters in our hands there is no saying to what lengths he may go. He might shatter the very worship of the gods. It is no use to try to overthrow him openly; for he has the support of the king, and the efforts that have been made have not in any way shaken his position. Therefore he must die. It will be easy to put him out of the way. There are plenty of small chambers and recesses which he might be induced to enter on some pretext or other, and then be slain without difficulty, and his body taken away by night and thrown into some of the disused catacombs.
“It would be a nine days’ wonder when he was missed, but no one could ever learn the truth of his disappearance. I am ready to kill him with my own hands, and should regard the deed as one most pleasing to the gods. Therefore if you are ready to undertake the other arrangements, and two of you will join me in seeing that the deed is carried out without noise or outcry, I will take the matter in hand. I hate him, with his airs of holiness and his pretended love for the people. Besides, the good of our religion requires that he shall die.”
There was a chorus of approbation from the others.
“Leave me to determine the time and place,” the speaker went on, “and the excuse on which we will lead him to his doom. Those who will not be actually engaged with me in the business must be in the precincts of the place, and see that no one comes that way, and make some excuse or other should a cry by chance be heard, and must afterward set on foot all sorts of rumors to account for his actions. We can settle nothing tonight; but there is no occasion for haste, and on the third night hence we will again gather here.”
Chebron touched Amuba, and the two crept back to where they had been standing on t
he ledge.
“The villains are planning a murder in the very temple!” Chebron said. “I will give them a fright;” and applying his mouth to the orifice he cried:
“Beware, sacrilegious wretches! Your plots shall fail and ruin fall upon you!”
“Come on, Chebron!” Amuba exclaimed, pulling his garment. “Some of the fellows may know the secret of this statue, and in that case they will kill us without mercy if they find us here.”
Passing through the opening they groped their way to the top of the stairs, hurried down these as fast as they could in the darkness, and issued out from the door.
“I hear footsteps!” Amuba exclaimed as they did so. “Run for your life, Chebron!”
Just as they left the court they heard the noise of angry voices and hurried footsteps close by. At full speed they ran through several courts and apartments.
“We had better hide, Amuba.”
“It will be no use trying to do that. They will guard the entrance gates, give the alarm, and set all the priests on duty in the temple in search. No, come along quickly. They cannot be sure that it is we who spoke to them, and will probably wait until one has ascended the stairs to see that no one is lurking there. I think we are safe for the moment; but there are no good hiding-places. I think you had better walk straight to the entrance, Chebron. Your presence here is natural enough, and those they post at the gates would let you pass out without suspicion. I will try and find myself a hiding-place.”
“I certainly will not do that, Amuba. I am not going to run away and leave you in the scrape, especially as it was I who got us into it by my rashness.”
“Is there any place where workmen are engaged on the walls?” Amuba asked suddenly.
“Yes, in the third court on the right after entering,” Chebron replied. “They are repainting the figures on the upper part of the wall. I was watching them at work yesterday.”
“Then in that case there must be some ladders. With them we might get away safely. Let us make for the court at once, but tread noiselessly, and if you hear a footstep approaching hide in the shadow behind the statue. Listen! they are giving the alarm. They know that their number would be altogether insufficient to search this great temple thoroughly.”
Shouts were indeed heard, and the lads pressed on toward the court Chebron had spoken of. The temple now was echoing with sounds, for the priests on duty, who had been asleep as usual when not engaged in attending to the lights, had now been roused by one of their number, who ran in and told them some sacrilegious persons had made their way into the temple.
“Here is the place,” Chebron said, stopping at the foot of the wall.
Here two or three long light ladders were standing. Some of these reached part of the distance only up the walls, but the top of one could be seen against the skyline.
“Mount, Chebron! There is no time to loose. They may be here at any moment.”
Chebron mounted, followed closely by his companion. Just as he gained the top of the wall several men carrying torches ran into the court and began to search along the side lying in shadow. Just as Amuba joined Chebron one of the searchers caught sight of them, and with a shout ran toward the ladder.
“Pull, Chebron!” Amuba exclaimed as he tried to haul up the ladder.
Chebron at once assisted him, and the foot of the ladder was already many feet above the ground before the men reached it. The height of the wall was some fifty feet, and light as was the construction of the ladder, it was as much as the lads could do to pull it up to the top. The wall was fully twelve feet in thickness, and as soon as the ladder was up Amuba said:
“Keep away from the edge, Chebron, or it is possible that in this bright moonlight we may be recognized. We must be going on at once. They will tie the short ladders together and be after us directly.”
“Which way shall we go?”
“Toward the outer wall, as far as possible from the gate. Bring the ladder along.”
Taking it upon their shoulders they hurried along. Critical as the position was, Amuba could not help remarking on the singularity of the scene. The massive walls were all topped with white cement and stretched like broad ribbons, crossing and recrossing each other in regular parallelograms on a black ground.
Five minutes’ running took them to the outer wall, and the ladder was again lowered and they descended, and then stood at its foot for a moment to listen. Everything was still and silent.
“It is lucky they did not think of sending men to watch outside the walls when they first caught sight of us, or we should have been captured. I expect they thought of nothing but getting down the other ladders and fastening them together. Let us make straight out and get well away from the temple, and then we will return to your house at our leisure. We had better get out of sight if we can before our pursuers find the top of the ladder, then as they will have no idea in which direction we have gone they will give up the chase.”
After an hour’s walking they reached home. On the way they had discussed whether or not Chebron should tell Ameres what had taken place, and had agreed that it would be best to be silent.
“Your father would not like to know that you have discovered the secret of the image, Chebron. If it was not for that I should say you had best have told him. But I do not see that it would do any good now. We do not know who the men were who were plotting or whom they were plotting against. But one thing is pretty certain, they will not try to carry out their plans now, for they cannot tell how much of their conversation was overheard, and their fear of discovery will put an end for the present to this scheme of theirs.”
Chebron agreed with Amuba’s views, and it was decided to say nothing about the affair unless circumstances occurred which might alter their intentions. They entered the house quietly and reached their apartment without disturbing any of the inmates.
On the following morning one of the priests of the temple arrived at an early hour and demanded to see Ameres.
“I have evil tidings to give you, my lord,” he said. “Your son Neco has this morning been killed.”
“Neco killed?” Ameres repeated.
“It is, alas! but too true, my lord. He left the house where he lives with two other priests but a short distance from the gate of the temple at his usual hour. It was his turn to offer the sacrifices at dawn, and it must have been still dark when he left the house. As he did not arrive at the proper time a messenger was sent to fetch him, and he found him lying dead but a few paces from his own door, stabbed to the heart.”
Ameres waved his hand to signify that he would be alone, and sat down half-stunned by the sudden shock.
Between himself and his eldest son there was no great affection. Neco was of a cold and formal disposition, and although Ameres would in his own house have gladly relaxed in his case, as he had done in that of Chebron, the rigid respect and deference demanded by Egyptian custom on the part of sons toward their father, Neco had never responded to his advances and had been punctilious in all the observances practiced at the time. Except when absolutely commanded to do so, he had never taken a seat in his father’s presence, had never addressed him unless spoken to, had made his appearance only at stated times to pay his respects to him, and when dismissed had gladly hurried away to the priest who acted as his tutor.
As he grew up the gap had widened instead of closing. Ameres saw with regret that his mind was narrow and his understanding shallow, that in matters of religion he was bigoted; while at the same time he perceived that his extreme zeal in the services of the temple, his absorption in ceremonial observances of all kinds, were due in no slight degree to ambition, and that he was endeavoring to obtain reputation for distinguished piety with a view to succeeding some day to the office of high priest. He guessed that the eagerness with which Neco embraced the first opportunity of withdrawing himself from his home and joining two other young priests in their establishment was due to a desire to disassociate himself from his father, and thus to make an unspoken pro
test against the latitude of opinion that had raised up a party hostile to Ameres.
Although living so close it was very seldom that he had, after once leaving the house, again entered it; generally choosing a time when his father was absent and so paying his visits only to his mother. Still the news of his sudden death was a great shock, and Ameres sat without moving for some minutes until a sudden outburst of cries in the house betokened that the messenger had told his tidings to the servants, and that these had carried them to their mistress. Ameres at once went to his wife’s apartment and endeavored to console her, but wholly without success.
Amense was frantic with grief. Although herself much addicted to the pleasures of the world, she had the highest respect for religion, and the ardor of Neco in the discharge of his religious duties had been a source of pride and gratification to her. Not only was it pleasant to hear her son spoken of as one of the most rising of the young priesthood, but she saw that he would make his way rapidly and would ere long become the recognized successor to his father’s office. Chebron and Mysa bore the news of their brother’s death with much more resignation. For the last three years they had scarcely seen him, and even when living at home there had been nothing in common between him and them. They were indeed more awed by the suddenness of his death than grieved at his loss.
When he left them Ameres went at once to the house of Neco to make further inquiries into the matter. There he could learn nothing that could afford any clew. Neco had been late at the temple and had not returned until long after the rest of the household were in bed, and none had seen him before he left in the morning. No sound of a struggle or cry for help had been heard. His death had apparently been instantaneous. He had been stabbed in the back by some one who had probably been lurking close to the door awaiting his coming out.
The general opinion there and in the temple was that he must have fallen a victim to a feeling of revenge on the part of some attendant in the building who on his report had undergone disgrace and punishment for some fault of carelessness or inattention in the services or in the care of the sacred animals. As a score of attendants had at one time or other been so reported by Neco, for he was constantly on the lookout for small irregularities, it was impossible to fix the crime on one more than another.
