The Pharaoh and the Priest: An Historical Novel of Ancient EgyptPrus, Bolesław
History
The Pharaoh and the Priest: An Historical Novel of Ancient Egypt
Prus, Bolesław
Egypt -- History -- To 332 B.C. -- Fiction
In the month Paoni (March-April), on the day of the vernal equinox,
about nine in the evening, when the star Sirius inclined toward its
setting, two wayfaring priests and one penitent stopped in the gateway.
The penitent, who was barefoot, had ashes on his head, and was covered
with a coarse cloth which concealed his visage.
Though the air was clear, it was impossible to distinguish the faces of
those wayfarers. They stood in the shadow of two immense statues of the
cow-headed divinity which guarded the entrance to the temple and with
kindly eyes protected the province of Habu from pestilence, southern
winds, and bad overflows.
When he had rested somewhat, the penitent fell with his face to the
earth and prayed long in that position. Then he rose, took a copper
knocker, and struck a blow. A deep metallic sound went through all the
courts, reverberated from the thick walls of the temple, and flew over
the wheat-fields, above the mud cottages of earth-tillers, over the
silvery waters of the Nile, where the faint cry of wakened birds
answered it.
After a long time a murmur was heard inside, and the question,
"Who rouses us?"
"Ramses, a slave of the divinity," said the penitent.
"For what hast Thou come?"
"For the light of wisdom."
"What right hast Thou to ask for it?"
"I received the inferior consecration, and in great processions within
the temple I carry a torch."
The gates opened widely. In the centre stood a priest in a white robe;
he stretched forth his hand, and said slowly and distinctly,
"Enter. When Thou crossest this threshold, may divine peace dwell in
thy soul, and may that be accomplished for which Thou implorest
humbly."
When the penitent had fallen at his feet, the priest, making some signs
above his head, whispered,
"In the name of Him who is, who has been, and who will be, who created
everything, whose breath fills the visible and the invisible world, and
who is life eternal."
When the gate had closed, the priest took Ramses by the hand, and in
the gloom amid the immense columns of the forecourt he led him to the
dwelling assigned to him. It was a small cell lighted by a lamp. On the
stone pavement lay a bundle of dry grass; in a corner stood a pitcher
of water, and near it was a barley cake.
"I see that here I shall have rest indeed after my occupations with the
nomarchs," said Ramses, joyously.
"Think of eternity," replied the priest; and he withdrew.
This answer struck Ramses disagreeably. Though he was hungry, he did
not wish to eat a cake or drink water. He sat on the grass, and looking
at his feet wounded from the journey, asked himself why he had come,
why he had put himself voluntarily out of his office.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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