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
The exhibition lasted half an hour perhaps. When the performers left
the courtyard, a negro attending to the chambers of the inn rushed up
to the host and whispered something anxiously. After that, it was
unknown whence, a decurion of the police appeared, and when he had
conducted Asarhadon to a remote window, he conversed long with him.
The worthy owner of the inn beat his breast, clasped his hands, or
seized his head. At last he kicked the black man in the belly, and
commanded him to give the police official a roast goose and a pitcher
of Cyprus wine; then he approached the guest in the front gallery, who
seemed to doze there unbrokenly, though his eyes were open.
"I have evil news for thee, worthy lord," said the host, sitting at
the side of the traveller.
"The gods send rain and sadness on people whenever it pleases them,"
replied the guest, with indifference.
"While we were looking at the snake-tamers," continued the host,
pulling at his parti-colored beard, "thieves reached the second story
and stole thy effects,--three bags and a casket, of course very
precious."
"Thou must inform the court of my loss."
"Wherefore the court?" whispered the host. "With us thieves have a
guild of their own. We will send for their elder, and value the
effects; thou wilt pay him twenty per cent of the value and all will
be found again. I can assist thee."
"In my country," replied the guest, "no man compounds with thieves,
and I will not. I lodge with thee, I trusted thee with my property,
and thou wilt answer."
The worthy Asarhadon began to scratch his shoulder-blades.
"Man of a distant region," continued he, in a lower voice, "ye
Hittites and we Phœnicians are brothers, hence I advise thee
sincerely not to turn to an Egyptian court, for it has only one
door,--that by which a man enters, but none by which he goes out."
"The gods can conduct an innocent man through a wall," said the
Hittite.
"Innocent! Who of us in the land of bondage is innocent?" whispered
the host. "Look in that direction; over there that commander of ten
policemen is finishing a goose, an excellent young goose, which I
myself would have eaten gladly. But dost thou know why, taking it from
my own mouth, I gave that goose to him?"
"It was because the man came to inquire about thee."
When he said this, the Phœnician looked askance at the traveller, who
did not lose calmness for an instant.
"He asked me," continued the host, "that master of ten policemen
asked, 'What sort of man is that black one who sits two hours over a
handful of dates?' I replied: 'A very honorable man, the lord Phut.'
'Whence comes he?' 'From the country of the Hittites, from the city of
Harran; he has a good house there of three stories, and much land.'
'Why has he come hither?' 'He has come,' I replied, 'to receive five
talents from a certain priest, talents lent by his father.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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