The Bronze God of Rhodes

BOOK VI — MANETHôS

When Onas and I put the proposal to him, Berosos showed an unflattering reluctance to come on our robe hunt.

"Why ask you me?" he said. We stood on the quay of Tamiathis, yawning from lack of sleep, early the morning after the fatal discovery. "No catchpole, I. In this cloudless clime you can find the North Star as well as I. Useless at either running or fighting am I, and I speak not the speech of the land. I should be of no use save for crocodile bait. Ask Mys instead."

Said I: "We asked you because we like you; you are our friend. But if the journey really affrights you—"

"Wait," said Onas. "Berosos, do you remember my speaking of my cousin Manethôs?"

"The one who knows the names of all the old kings?"

"Aye. Well, this is what we shall do. We shall stop at Sebennytos and ask my cousin, who is a priest of Thôth there, for help in tracking down our quarry. Far more than this Greek government, the Egyptian priesthoods know what goes on in the land. Thus shall you have an opportunity to learn the ancient lore of my people: their kings and gods, their myths and magic."

Berosos' expression of distaste had changed. He said: "Oh, that is different. When shall we start?"

Dikaiarchos of Messana strode up with a broad-brimmed hat on his head, exclaiming: "O Chares! What is this about your going to Memphis whilst the ship lies here out of water?"

I told the geographer of our mission. "Indeed?" he said. "May I accompany you?"

"You, sir? Why?"

"To see the country. That's what I came to Egypt for."

"Well—ah—the chase may be rugged for one of your years, sir, and the quarry may bite when cornered, like the mouse in the story of King Agesilaos."

"Ha! Do you fear my senility?" Dikaiarchos seized me around the waist between his two large knobby hands and hoisted me into the air. Then he dropped me, saying:

"When you can do that to me, my fair young friend, it will be time to twit me on my age. As for the thieves' resisting—"

He suddenly brought forth a long, gleaming, horseman's sword from under his cloak. "I can use this paring knife, also. In fact, I pinked some pirates with it yesterday."

"You are of course welcome to come," I said.

I spent the morning in rushing about for gear and supplies, and obtained an audience with Tauros while the barber shaved his jowls. The commandant said:

"If you will but wait an hour, Master Chares, I will find a map and write a letter to the strategoi through whose provinces you will pass. Meanwhile, have you bought mosquito nets?"

"What are they, sir?"

"The Egyptians, when they sleep, first rig little tents of linen gauze above themselves to keep off the mosquitoes, which are a terrible pest in the Delta."

"That I have discovered," said I, scratching. "I shall be back at noon, then."

When next I saw Tauros, he was studying a map spread out on a table in his study. He said: "Each nomos or province has a Macedonian strategos, in charge of military matters, and a monarch, usually an Egyptian, commanding civil ones. You will normally work through the strategos. We are in the Diospolite Nomos, or the Province of the Sanctuary, as the Egyptians call it. The strategos is a good friend of mine, but as Little Diospolis lies out of your way, you are not likely to meet him.

"You will go up the Phatnitic branch, thus, until you reach this fork. Let me see. The capitals of the Hermopolite and Mendesian provinces lie far from the Phatnitic branch. However, you should find the strategos of the Sebennytan Province in Sebennytos. His name is Neon; a good enough sort.

"At Bousiris you will find the strategos Thorax, whom I do not know. The capital of the next province on your left lies far to the east, but you can find a minor official in Leontopolis in case of need. Then you will come to Athribis, but I do not know who is the strategos of the Athribite Province. After Athribis, the next provincial capital you will pass is Memphis itself. The stragegos is Alkman of Beroia, a famous warrior and a Macedonian of Macedonians."

"What is he like?"

"I have not seen him for many years. He it was who stood by the Ptolemaios when Perdikkas' elephants overthrew the wall at the Fort of Camels, and all the other Ptolemaians fled, and the Ptolemaios himself speared the first elephant as it lumbered through the breach."

Besides Onas, Berosos, Dikaiarchos, and myself, two other persons set forth with us: Dikaiarchos' slave Sambas, and Azarias, who merely wished a ride as far as his home.

What with one thing and another, we did not get off until midafternoon. Whenever I had all my voyagers assembled, somebody would think of one more article that we needed; then, when I had collected all the supplies for the journey, I found that one or another of my passengers had wandered off. After Onas did this twice, I forgot my good resolutions and berated him before all.

At last Horos, our boatman, and his son Zazamanx pushed our boat out into the stream. She was a twenty-cubit craft of small sycamore planks sewn together, with places for four oarsmen and a small cabin.

The boatmen stepped the mast and hoisted the sail. Zazamanx took his place on the broad, flat, duckbill-shaped overhang at the bow, peering down into the water, while Horos carried a paddle aft, thrust it into a notch in the high, recurved transom, and steered with it.

Horos was a stooped, gnarled, gap-toothed man, active as a monkey despite his evident age. His son was a big, solidly built, silent youth.

Horos knew a little Greek from doing business with the Hellenes of the naval station. He grinned at me, patted the boat's planks, and said:

"Fine boat, no?"

"It looks good to me. What do you call it?"

"Hathor. Best boat on river. You give me more money for riding in such fine boat. Much money."

I turned to Onas. "You made the arrangements for this voyage. Tell this knave he shall have what we agreed upon and not more."

There ensued a crackle of Egyptian dialogue, punctuated by hearty laughter. I gathered that the two were trading jocular insults.

Zazamanx called, "Seka!" from the bow. He picked up a rusty spear and poised it, staring down into the dark waters.

"Crocodile," said Horos to my question.

"Istar!" said Berosos. "Mean you that we bathed in the river with those things yesterday?"

"You were not devoured, were you?" said Onas.

Dikaiarchos: "I thought animals were sacred, yet Zazamanx would have taken a spear to this reptile."

"Crocodiles are sacred only in the Province of the Lower Palm Tree," explained Onas. "Elsewhere we slay them when we can."

"I could never live in Egypt," said I. "I could never remember what beast may be killed in which region."

I watched the boatmen's management of their craft with keen interest. The brisk etesian wind wafted us southward. Horos kept near the banks to avoid the swifter current of midstream, swerving out when Zazamanx called to beware of a shoal, and sometimes angling across the broad flood to take advantage of slack water on the far side.

Like the other branches of the lower Nile, the Phatnitic branch pursues a serpentine course. Now and then the river twisted about until, no matter how far around the sail was braced, it no longer served us. Then Horos and Zazamanx lowered it, put out two of the oars, and pulled with low grunts until the bend was passed.

The first time that he resumed his seat in the stern after one of these bouts, Horos said: "Hard work. Hot day. You pay me for whole trip now, yes?"

"Oh, be quiet!" I said.

The old man chuckled as if my rebuff were an excellent joke.

The banks of the Nile wafted slowly past: a reedy marsh, a palm grove, a village, then another marsh. Flocks of birds rose whirring from the marshes or winged, crying, overhead on their way south. The annual flood of the Nile was receding, though some low-lying fields still lay under sheets of water.

In fields which the falling water had laid bare, sturdy nut-brown peasants waded up to their calves in black mud, sowing this year's wheat. Women, stripped like the men to loin cloths or altogether naked, wielded heavy hoes. Now and then we passed a field in which naked boys chased animals back and forth with switches: now a flock of sheep, then a drove of pigs.

"Why are they doing that?" I asked Onas. "They'll run all the meat off their beasts."

"The animals tread the seed into the earth. In this soft mud such a scheme is easier than plowing."

All day we wound around bend after bend. Betimes we passed another duckbill-stemmed boat, whose occupants traded gossip with our boatmen in shouts across the water. When night came, we tied up near a village, ate our frugal meal, rigged our tents of gauze, and slept.

Next morning the marshes became fewer. Now and then a canal opened into the river on one side or the other. During the afternoon we reached Iseion, on the west bank. I should like to have studied the architecture of the majestic temple of Isis that rose against the skyline, but the urgency of my mission forbade. We pushed on to Sebennytos.

Onas' city came into view on our right, larger than Iseion, its walls of mud brick showing black against the red of the setting sun. Onas and I walked up the slope from the river to the gate. There lounged a single guard, wearing a helmet of crocodile skin. His huge wicker shield and bronze-pointed spear reposed against the wall.

We passed on into the city, a place of narrow dark streets and strong smells. I found General Neon in a crumbling mud-brick palace that had belonged to some forgotten governor of Persian times.

The strategos, a little round man, read the letter from Tauros, telling who we were and urging Ptolemaios' officials to give us every possible aid and succor.

"Wait," said Neon. He stepped into another room, whence came the buzz of speech. Soon he came back.

"I should be glad to help, my good sir," he said. "But I have just spoken to my spy, and he has seen no such folk as you describe in his rounds of the taverns. I imagine they stopped at Iseion, where the police are more lax, and passed by here without halting. Better luck upriver, perhaps."

Next Onas led me to the open place where stood the temple of Thôth. The lotus-topped capitals of its propylon rose black against the western sky, which was darkening from gold to apple-green to deep blue, while in the east the first stars shone like gems on a blue-black cloth. On either hand stone sphinxes brooded, and a bat wheeled and dipped overhead. To a Hellene the sight of an Egyptian temple speaks of ancient lore and occult wisdom, of mysterious rites and knowledge of forbidden things. Onas said:

"In the olden days you as a Hellene had not been admitted into the sacred precinct, let alone into the temple itself. However, things have changed."

He spoke to the man at the entrance, who walked off with leisurely strides. Soon another man appeared, looking ghostly in his white linen robe in the dusk. So quietly did he glide up that I started at the sight of him.

"Ha, Manethôs!" said Onas.

The other replied in kind, and the two touched noses. There was a swift exchange of speech. The white-robed man said to me in fluent though strongly accented Greek:

"Rejoice, O Chares! May the gods of Egypt ever watch over the friend of my kinsman." He made a ritualistic gesture. "Fain would I entertain you in proper fashion, but my house and I are in mourning. Still, will you step this way? First, however, must I ask you to leave your cloak with the porter, as wool may not be brought into the temple."

Manethôs led us into a small anteroom of the temple opening on the court. It was lit by lamps of curious shape that gave off a rancid smell of castor oil. Manethôs clapped his hands; a man brought small cups of wine for Onas and me. Manethôs did not drink. Now that I had a better look at him, I saw that he was a little younger than Onas and myself—that is, in his early twenties—and as tall as Onas though more slender of form. Manethôs ' youthful appearance, however, conflicted with an extreme gravity of manner, suitable for a man of twice his age. His entire head, including his eyebrows, was shaven.

"What is the cause of your bereavement, sir?" I asked.

"Why, our cat has died."

I almost burst into a raucous laugh. But my guardian spirit, together with a warning frown from Onas, caused me to clap a hand to my mouth. However, enough of the laugh had started on its way to cause Manethôs to give me a cold, hard look, like that of a cobra rearing to strike at a mouse.

"Something I ate," I said. "Pray accept my condolences."

The priest grunted and turned to Onas. The two conversed in Egyptian while I sipped my wine and prowled about the chamber, scrutinizing the painted reliefs of gods and men and beasts, and combinations thereof, on the wall. After an hour of this I was becoming bored when Manethôs spoke:

"The ibis-headed man, O Chares, is Thôth, the god of wisdom, whom I serve. Some of your Greek priests identify him with their Hermes."

"Indeed?" I said.

Onas spoke: "Excuse us for ignoring you, old fellow, but Manethôs has been telling me all that has befallen Uncle Sethos and Aunt Meritra and Cousin Tetephren and so on. My parents, thanks to the gods, still live, and I am fain to visit them on the morrow. Dwell they in a village, an hour's ride to the west."

"Herakles! You can't do that!" I exclaimed. "The trail of the thieves would grow cold while we waited."

Onas frowned. "Would you, after a long absence from Rhodes, fail to visit your parents if you touched there on a voyage? I cannot believe that you would be so wicked."

"No, but we must put first things first. We cannot risk our entire mission for a familial reunion."

"I shall not be gone above half a day, and I will go, whether you give me leave or not."

"As your superior officer, I forbid itl"

"Stop me if you can!"

"By the Dog, I will!"

We were both on our feet, and our shouts echoed through the silences of the temple. I had never before quarreled with the easygoing Onas, but this I deemed a matter of principle.

"Allow me to speak," said Manethôs . "You do, forsooth, have cause to push on in haste to Memphis. There will you either recover your stolen raiment or you will not. In either case you will then return down the river, in less haste than you went up it. Why not on your return stop long enough for Onas to make his visit? A day more or less will not matter then."

Shamefaced, Onas and I agreed to this plan. Manethôs resumed: "My cousin has told me of your quest and besought my aid in tracking down the thieves. Meseems the best way to do that were to go with you to Memphis, where I have connections among the priesthoods."

"That is too good of you, sir."

"Not entirely. I, too, have a mission, which your journey will enable me to accomplish. I wish to take the mummy of our cat to Memphis for burial in the holy cemetery of the cats there."

"Agreed with pleasure," I said. "When will you be ready?"

"Tomorrow morning. I must arrange with the high priest, my uncle, for leave from my duties. I will also pray to the wise Thôth to set our feet on the veritable path to success. Perhaps he will advise me in a dream."

Onas and Manethôs came aboard the Hathor at noon the next day. Manethôs wore a linen robe and headcloth, and shoes of papyrus. He carried a copper statue of a cat, twice life-size and weighing, I judged, five to ten pounds, I said:

"Have I misunderstood you, sir? I thought you were to bring the mummy of your cat on the journey."

"The mummy is in this," he said, tapping the ruddy copper.

"How did you get it into the statue?"

"Through the hole in the bottom, ere the base was riveted on." Manethôs set the statue in the corner of the cabin, whence it stared at us with a supercilious expression. The statue even included a pair of earrings in the cat's ears as I have seen on living cats in Egypt.

After the Sebennytan cousins came a free servant from the temple of Thôth, staggering under Manethôs ' baggage. The servant, Phiôps, settled down on the boat to stay. These additions crowded the Hathor and brought expostulations from Horos. I was not sorry, however, to have another pair of strong hands aboard, as Dikaiarchos had made it plain that he did not wish others than himself to give orders to his slave.

Manethôs nodded gravely to Berosos and Dikaiarchos as I presented them. When I added, "And this is Azarias of Bousiris," however, something curious happened. Manethôs , his face blank, said:

"A Judaean?"

"Why, yes."

"Oh," said the priest, and turned away to see to the stowage of his gear.

Azarias, likewise, had failed to acknowledge the introduction. He glared with tight lips at the priest, as at a mortal foe.

"Do you know him?" I said to Azarias in Phoenician.

"Ouph, nay! Nor do I wish to," said the weaver. "But let us speak of another matter. We shall reach my city within the hour. I pray you, in the name of the lord Iao, to let me feast you and your fellow soldiers, the Egyptian and the Babylonian, at my house. It is the least I can do for your saving my life."

"I thank you, but I fear we have lost so much time in Sebennytos that we must press on ..."

However, the little man pleaded so earnestly that I gave in. Then another thought struck me. I asked:

"How will you guest a group of foreigners, not of your religion, without violating your complex rules of eating?"

"Na, fear not. It is not the company that our laws restrict, but the manner of preparing the victuals."

Between Sebennytos and Bousiris, Azarias and Manethôs ignored each other in a way that not even the dullest could fail to mark. We reached Bousiris while the afternoon sun still shone with Egyptian splendor.

First I sought out Thorax, the strategos of the Province of the Protector. His clerk said, "Wait," and went into the adjoining room, whence came the sound of snores. The snores ceased, and soon the clerk beckoned.

"What do you want?" growled Thorax, sitting on the edge of a couch and rubbing reddened eyes.

I showed Tauros' letter and spoke my piece.

"Oh, ordure!" muttered the strategos, glancing over the letter. "I know nothing of any such malefactors. If people cannot keep better watch over their property, they deserve to lose it. Try the deputy strategos at Leontopolis, or Hybrias at Athribis. Now leave me, my good man, for I am exceedingly busy."

Nettled, I went out, not doubting that the snores resumed as soon as I had gone. After I rejoined my comrades, Azarias led us to his house, whence came the clatter of looms.

As we entered, the noise of the looms desisted and a swarm of Judaeans flung themselves upon my fellow traveler. So swiftly flew the talk that, what of the peculiar accent wherewith these folk speak Phoenician, I could no longer follow. Azarias, arms flying, told of the attack on the Anath and of his subsequent rescue. His family burst into tears and wails when he told of his danger and screamed with joy at his deliverance. When he identified us as his saviors, they threw themselves upon us and kissed our hands, to my no small embarrassment.

Azarias' household included his wife, a short dumpy woman; three daughters and two sons, ranging in age from about five to fifteen; an apprentice; and several free servants. He showed us about, explaining the technical details of his looms. He had three of these for linen, two for wool, and one for silk. I suppose his family had developed the habit of shouting at one another to be heard over the clatter that arose when all these machines were in use at once. Pointing to the loom for silk, he said:

"This is a new thing, and not sure am I that it will gain me a profit. Any fool can weave wool, but for silk new ways are needed. We must tune the tension of our warp threads with utmost care, for silken threads yield less than those of wool. I learnt the art from a cousin in Jerusalem, who learnt it from a weaver in Sidon, who learnt it from a silk weaver of Kôs."

"Not Tryphon?"

"His father Anax, I believe. Why, know you Tryphon? A shrewd competitor, by all accounts."

Later, over Azarias' sweet Judaean wine, I asked: "Why did you and the priest so plainly dislike each other if you had never met?"

"Those wicked animal worshipers!" said the weaver with vehemence. "They hate us because we will not bow down to their false gods. Since we bring no offerings to their bestial demons, they strive to turn the people against us, to seduce away our youth to their abominable rites, to infect them with their barbarous superstitions, and to persecute and abuse us in every way they can. They hope to drive us back to Judaea. But we are not primitive tribesmen to be herded hither and yon at will. We are a holy race of ancient lineage, to whom the lord Iao has given the one true religion. If any would profit from knowing us, let him learn righteousness from our teachers and our sacred books. We are here lawfully, by invitation of the king, and by the rod of Moses here we will stay!"

His attitude seemed to me self-conceited, especially as everyone knows that the Hellenes alone have developed civilization to its highest form. But as Azarias was my host it would not have been seemly to dispute him. Instead, I asked:

"How did you come to settle in Bousiris?"

"Fifteen years ago, the Ptolemaios overran Judaea and captured our holy city of Jerusalem. Many of our people were carried off by his soldiers. One of these was my brother Ioudas. After these captives had slaved miserably for a time, an embassy of our leading men persuaded the Ptolemaios that these were a people worth befriending: stout warriors, diligent workers, and virtuous citizens, not tricky traders or dissolute weaklings like some other folk.

"Accordingly, the Ptolemaios bought up all the Judaean slaves in Egypt and freed them. He also invited more to settle in this land, to increase its wealth by their industry and its moral tone by their example. My brother wrote, urging me to remove hither, as my father's family was large and his business could not support all of us. Now there are over thirty Judaean families in Sebennytos."

"How do you get along with the Egyptians?"

"Not ill, save when those devils in the beast temples stir them up against us by their lies and calumnies."

Whatever the curious laws that govern the preparation of Judaean food and drink, I must say that the dinner was good. Even I, who normally care but Utile for my food, stuffed myself to the ears and sat groaning afterwards, while Azarias bantered with Onas in Egyptian and with Berosos in Syrian. As we were leaving, the Judaean reiterated:

"Forget not: If I can do aught to help you in time of need, call upon me forthwith. Azarias ben-Moses spurns not his benefactors."

We found Manethôs and Dikaiarchos lounging in the Hathor over a jug of beer and talking learnedly of eras and dynasties. The next morning, when we had hoisted sail and breasted the flood to southward, I asked Manethôs :

"What lies between you and the Judaean weaver, that you should hate each other before you had exchanged a word?"

"Judaeans!" Manethôs spat over the side of the boat. "You know not what we Egyptians have suffered from these pestilent sand dwellers. Twice have they overrun us; twice have we driven them out; and now your Greek king is bringing them in for a third time."

"What's that? I have never heard of the Judaeans as conquerors."

Said Manethôs : "I will tell you. First, when Toutimaios was king of Egypt, a horde of these godless Asiatics invaded the land, calling themselves Hyksos or 'Shepherds.' After a cruel and unrighteous rule of five hundred years these nomads were driven out by King Amosis. For four centuries thereafter all went well.

"Then King Amenophthis was advised by a seer that he should please the gods by cleansing the temples of the horde of cripples, blind men, and lepers that swarmed about them, begging for alms. The king accordingly gathered all these unfortunates and put them to forced labor. This, however, accomplished little, most of them being too feeble for heavy work.

"Amenophthis therefore sent them to the city of Avaris, which the Shepherds had built during their rule and which now stood empty. Here a renegade Egyptian priest named Osarseph obtained the leadership of the beggars. This Osarseph changed his name to Moses and intrigued with the Shepherds in Syria. At his urging, the latter again swept over the land, committing outrages and abominations like the burning of cities and the slaughter of sacred animals.

"King Amenophthis withdrew to Ethiopia without fighting, as he had been warned by the same seer that these polluted foreigners would rule the land for thirteen years. When the time was up, returned the king from the Southland and drove out both the Shepherds and the beggars. And from the Shepherds and the Egyptian beggars the Judaeans of today are descended. I can show you the passages in our ancient records where these things are set forth.

"Now the Ptolemaios would bring these people back in. I will not speak of Greek rule over our holy land, for it is plain that the gods desire the Egyptians to be ruled—for a time—by barbarians. But I will speak about bringing in whole tribes of foreigners to do things that Egyptians can do just as well. If the king want soldiers, why brings he in Hellenes and Syrians and the like when we have a class of sturdy warriors, like Onas here, rusting away in idleness? If he want workers in wool and leather and metal, why import Judaeans when for thousands of years Egypt has led the world in artistic taste and delicacy of workmanship?"

I shrugged, for it was a difficult argument to answer. "Perhaps he doesn't trust the Egyptians, knowing what happened to the Shepherd kings. Anyway, this Azarias seemed personally harmless."

"About Azarias' personal qualities I neither know nor care," said Manethôs . "He is in the vanguard of another invasion, the most deadly of all. Hellenes and Phoenicians and Babylonians we can put up with, but Judaeans threaten our very existence."

"How?"

"The other people of whom I spoke worship their gods and suffer us to worship ours undisturbed. But Judaeans openly sneer at our ancient religion; they even have the insolence to say that, our gods exist not. Should such an atheistic heresy become widespread, the gods might turn off the Ior—that is, the Nile—in their anger and destroy us as punishment."

"What's that about the Nile?" said Dikaiarchos. "A favorite sport among learned Hellenes is to argue the cause of the rise and fall of this river. Is it true that in Ethiopia are two bottomless fountains, rising from the tops of conical mountains, one of which flows north to become the Nile while the other flows south into the lands of the headless men and the goat-pans?"

Manethôs allowed himself a rare smile. "I fear that some naughty compatriot of mine made up that tale to befool foreigners. The best opinion amongst our learned priests is that beyond Ethiopia to the south lies a lofty land of mountains and lakes, swarming with pygmies and elephants, where rain falls in summer only. The streams from these rains, coming together, form the Nile."

"Rain in summer?" said Dikaiarchos. "I have heard of such a thing in the far northern lands, but it seems almost too bizarre for belief."

"No stranger is it than the statements of you foreigners that in your lands rivers flow, east, west, and south as well as northward. To us, north is the only direction in which a proper river can flow."

Dikaiarchos laughed. "Well, if you will believe in my south-flowing streams, I'll believe in your summer rains."

I said: "O Manethôs , has your bird-headed god revealed anything to help us in our search?"

"Nay, not yet. True, he did visit me last night, but only to counsel me on personal matters."

Onas grinned. "Not in peace with his wife does Manethôs dwell. That is why he was so eager to come with us."

"May Seth shrivel you!" said the priest angrily. "I will thank you not to discuss my private affairs with outsiders. A sorry wight is he who exposes his kin."

"He's done you a favor, old boy," I said. "His words assure me that you are truly a human being like the rest of us. I had begun to wonder."

Manethôs grunted and withdrew into haughty silence. Being regarded as a common mortal was evidently not to his taste.

The banks of the Nile swept grandly past. Now the river ran straight for many furlongs; again, it wound in sharp bends, so that Horos and Zazamanx had to break out the oars. Palm trees nodded upon the banks; camels swayed against the skyline. The camel moaned, the falcon screamed overhead in the fathomless blue, and the swape creaked as naked, chanting peasants worked its long boom up and down to raise water to their irrigation ditches.

Canals, large and small, opened into the Nile on either hand. Village after mud-walled village floated past, until I began to understand how so huge a population is credited by the geographers to Egypt. By comparison Hellas is a wild uninhabited waste.

At Leontopolis I was told that the deputy strategos for the Province of the Heseb Bull was away inspecting canals, and nobody else knew anything of my thieves. I began to feel that I had embarked on a fool's errand, plunging farther and farther southward into this mysterious land without even the faintest spoor of my game to guide me.

As the sun set, a red ball behind the western palms, Berosos drew geometrical figures in the wax of a writing tablet. Manethôs asked:

"What do you, Babylonian?"

"I prepare to cast our horoscope for the journey," replied Berosos.

"I have heard of this Babylonian system of divination by the stars. Forsooth, our Egyptian vaticinatory methods are of greater antiquity and wisdom than those of other nations; but still, I would fain have your scheme explained to me— as soon as I have completed my evening prayers." Manethôs spoke to the boat at large. "Allow me to suggest, gentlemen, that those of you who have gods do pray to them now."

When Manethôs had finished his own prayers, he spoke again to Berosos: "Very well, sir, will you set forth your science now?"

"Surely, my friend." Berosos plunged into his lecture. As he spoke, the stars came out, one by one, as if in obedience to his summons. He said:

"From preliminary indications, high hopes have I of a favorable premonstration."

I said: "Any time Berosos tells you that the stars assure you good luck, that's the time to beware."

"Heed him not, Manethôs ," said Berosos. "These scoffing Hellenes are wont to parade their skepticism, not because they understand the higher truths but to magnify themselves by tearing others down."

"That's not true at all!" boomed Dikaiarchos. "For thousands of years, ever since your ancient civilizations arose, men have believed whatever their priests and kings told them, nine-tenths of it self-serving falsehood."

"How know you it was false?" said Manethôs .

"Because all these ancient myths and doctrines contradict one another. As my master, the great Aristoteles, so irrefutably demonstrated, if two statements are contradictory, both cannot possibly be true at once. So it is high time a little skepticism were applied to such matters, to winnow the wheat from the chaff."

"I can show you cases where the event fell out exactly as the stars foretold," said Berosos.

"No doubt, but that proves nothing unless you can also show two other things: that no predictions ever turned out badly, and that the events foretold would not have come to fruition in any case. For example, I can prophesy that the sun will rise tomorrow. Does that make me a prophet?"

Berosos replied: "If you come to Babylon, I will show you our ancient archives, dealing with the very points you raise."

"That may be," said Dikaiarchos, "but never yet have I seen a form of divination that would stand up under logical analysis."

Manethôs : "Believe you not that man can ever know the future?" .

"I wouldn't go so far. While I will not accept any other form of divination, I think there may be something to prophetic dreams."

"Mean you, my learned friend, as when the wise Thôth warns me of the future in slumber?" said Manethôs .

"Essentially, yes."

"Then you do accept the gods?"

"Let's not jump to conclusions," said Dikaiarchos. "I have never seen a god and so know nothing of them. Furthermore, it may be better for us not to know the future; for, if we knew our fate in detail, who would strive to better his lot?"

"As to gods," I began, "I have seen—"

But Manethôs cut me off. "That depends on whether one's vision of the future be absolute or contingent. But if you discredit the gods, how then do you explain prescience in dreams?"

"It may be that in sleep or in hysterical frenzy the spirit loses its intimate connection with the body and is thus enabled to see through the barriers of time and space that normally hem us in. One might call it extrasensory perception. If, as Parmenides taught, all events—past, present, and future—coexist in an eternal now—"

"Then you do believe in the soul?" said Manethôs .

"That there exists a life principle that distinguishes the living from the dead, I concede. But as for the common concept that this spirit goes wandering off by itself, or survives the death of the body—phy! I'll believe that when I see it."

"I can enlighten you," said Manethôs gravely. "There exist not one but three souls in each body. The first, the ba, is immortal and divine and leaves the body at death. The second, the chou or intelligence, and the third, the ka or double, remain with the body. In time, if the body has been properly mummified, these three souls unite to revivify it.

"However, it is but just to say that the Osirians have a rival theory, according to which the ka is a divine emanation—"

"Gentlemen!" I said. "We have reached Athribis. You may stay aboard and dine on talk of the different kinds of soul, but I'm for town."

Again I sought the office of the strategos of the Province of the Great Black Bull. The results were even less satisfactory than the last time. A clerk said to me:

"No, whatever-your-name-is, you may not see General Hybrias. The strategos will see nobody, because he is computing the tax rolls with the nomarch. Come back next month, and then perhaps he will see you. No, you may not see the nomarch, who is helping the strategos with the tax rolls."

It struck me that the farther I got from Tamiathis, the less cooperation I got from Ptolemaios' officials. Such a state of affairs boded ill for my prospects of success in Memphis.

Above Athribis the river took several sharp bends. River traffic became thicker as we neared Memphis. The scenery changed, to remind us that we were about to leave the Delta, the broad flat land of wet black earth and thickly sown villages, shaped like the letter whose name it bears, and enter that part of Egypt where the Nile flows for thousands of furlongs through a narrow green valley between two vast bare deserts.

Already we had caught glimpses of these deserts. Rocky hills and sandy dunes marched in upon us from east and west. The farther south we went, the closer they came: yellow-brown hills from the Libyan Desert, on our right, and gray-brown hills from the Arabian Desert, on our left.

We reached the fork where the Nile divides into its two main branches: the Phatnitic, up which we had come, and the Bolbitinic, which empties into the sea farther west. Here we anchored for the night between two small islands, one of which shielded us from the wind and the other from the current.

The next day we sailed to southward again. Above the fork the river is divided by a multitude of islands, great and small. On the smaller isles reeds and long grasses waved in the steady etesian breeze, while Egyptian families picnicked by the waterside. The larger isles bore farms and villas.

Afternoon came, and ever we wound among the islands. Ever the desert came closer: especially a group of frowning hills that encroached from the east. The sun was low again when I cried out:

"The pyramids!"

There they were, three of them, tiny with distance and black against the reddening sky, rising from vast inclosures on a hill far back from the western bank. Dikaiarchos and Berosos hastened to look, shading their eyes. Onas and Manethôs , engrossed in a game of checkers, merely glanced up and back again to their game. They had seen these strange edifices before.

Manethôs said: "Here is something of interest to Master Berosos. On your left you see the town of Babylon, whose dwellers came aforetime from his land."

The town stood on the riverbank at the base of a rugged hill. Berosos was at once full of questions. Manethôs explained:

"King Sesostris of the Twelfth Dynasty conquered an empire as wide as that of Alexander and brought home thousands of captives, whom he compelled to labor at building temples. Now, the captives brought from Babylonia revolted and seized yon hill. They fortified this eminence, ravaged the country round about, and defeated all efforts to subdue them. At last the king offered them a treaty, by which they should be allowed to dwell in that place and manage their own affairs if they would be loyal subjects and give up their brigandage. So it was agreed, and they live there yet."

Berosos sighed. "Ah me! Once we, too, were a race of warriors and conquerors."

"Be thankful you are no longer," said Dikaiarchos. "These kings reap a bit of glory, but what do they accomplish besides burning cities, killing and enslaving multitudes, and destroying the accumulated wealth and wisdom of the ages to aggrandize their own mediocre selves? He who ascertains a new law of nature or invents a new device is greater than all your conquerors, and in the long run has more influence."

"You can afford to be philosophical, Hellene," said Manethôs . "You need not take orders from foreigners; you need not skip out of the way when a drunken foreign soldier swaggers down the street. You have no horde of foreign officials meddling" in the affairs of your temple and selling the high-priesthood to the highest bidder."

"No doubt, but it does not alter my argument. I have written a book, proving that all the natural causes of human calamity—fire, flood, famine, plague, and wild beasts—have together slain fewer people than man himself by his wars and revolutions."

"I should rejoice to read it," said Manethôs . "Meanwhile I suggest that we stop for the night at Babylon and go on in the morning, as Memphis is another forty furlongs."

In Babylon-in-Egypt we entered another world. Here were the hooked noses, the flowing beards, the long curled hair, the knitted caps with dangling tails, and the guttural speech of Old Babylon. Berosos was delighted to discover that the people yet spoke the old Babylonian tongue.

"Outside of the rituals of the temples, scarcely ever is the old speech heard in Babylonia any more," he said. "We all speak Syrian in our everyday affairs."

During the evening I became separated from my companions; or rather, I separated myself, for what seemed a good reason. I succeeded in cajoling the reason into a compliant mood, despite the fact that neither of us understood a word of what the other said. Alas! At that point her husband came in, and I had to drop from a balcony and scurry around a few corners to preserve my gore for beautiful Rhodes.

Back at the boat, I found Onas and Dikaiarchos but not Berosos or the Egyptian priest. Fearing that they had met with foul play, I started out to look for them, when they appeared, singing. That is, each was singing a song in his native tongue and paying no heed to the song of the other. They had their arms about each other's necks, although Manethôs was usually careful, for religious reasons, not to touch foreigners. They reeled aboard and sat down with a force that strained the Hathor's flimsy planks. Berosos' plump face was wreathed in smiles, and so was the normally solemn visage of Manethôs .

"Ye gods!" I said to the latter. "Aren't you violating a hundred rules of your temple, man?"

The priest waved a finger at me. "Nought that a few ritual puff—purifications will not cure. It would be different were I higher in the hierarchy. Know you what Berosos and I have done?"

"What?"

"We have taken a solemn oath. We have made a compact. Tell him, Berosos."

The Babylonian said: "Nay, the hiccups have I. You tell him."

"I will try. We have sworn, by Thôth and Osiris and Amnion, and by Nebos and some other Babylonian gods whose names escape me, that—that—what swore we, Berosos?"

"To—to write a book, each of us," said Berosos, "in Greek, setting forth the true histories of our great and glorious peoples. The history of Babylonia will I compose, while Manethôs shall write that of Egypt. We shall draw upon the ancient records of our nations, which you poor benighted Hellenes cannot even read. Thus shall you learn what a privilege it is to know us."

"Let alone," said Manethôs , "let alone make a cruise on the Nile with us. We shall—we shall—what was I going to say, Berosos? Ech! The lazy rascal sleeps."

Manethôs slumped down and joined his comrade in slumber.

Many have heard of the pyramids of Egypt, but not many Hellenes know that the three across the river from Babylon are not the only ones. There are many more, albeit smaller than the great ones of King Souphis and his successors. They stretch for leagues up the western bank of the Nile. In stately procession they filed past us, rising on the skyline beyond the palms and plowed fields and villas, until we came unto Memphis.

Memphis was by far the largest city that I had ever seen. A colossal wall of pearly limestone incloses the city proper, which stretches back from the waterfront across a spacious plain for thirty furlongs and along the river for sixty. Within the wall, many temples rise from the enormous spread of brown brick houses, and around them tower the upper parts of an army of gigantic statues.

When I remarked on the stunning size of the wall, Berosos said: "Vaster by far are the walls of Babylon, though now into decay they have fallen."

Horos guided the Hathor to a mooring place on the waterfront. Manethôs pointed towards the southeastern part of the city, saying:

"You will wish to find quarters for your company, O Chares. Yonder lies the foreign quarter, around the temple of Hathor, where inns of the Greek type are to be found."

"Show me thither, pray," I said.

The foreign quarter of Memphis is noisily colorful. Here one is jostled by men in Hellenic cloaks, men in sleeved robes, men in leather jackets, and men with naked upper bodies. Legs in kilts, and legs in trousers, and bare legs stride past; the blue eyes and lank pale hair of the Kelt mingle with the shiny black skin and tribal scars of the Ethiop. Atop the hurrying figures bob Libyan ostrich plumes, tall spiral Syrian hats, Arabian headcloths, Persian felt caps, and Indian turbans.

Here a liquid-eyed Iberian with black side whiskers under his little black woolen bonnet tries to make an assignation with a slender Indian girl in gauzy muslins and jingling silver gimcracks; there a curly-haired, scar-faced Etruscan quarrels with a booted, bearded, bowlegged Scythian; they shout insults with hands on knives until a Greek soldier from the garrison parts them with a threatening growl. A stocky, turbaned Kordian orders his horoscope read by a curly-bearded Babylonian; a slim, hawk-faced Nabataean and a fat Phoenician goldsmith haggle over a bracelet, with much waving of arms, invocation of strange gods, and crashing of gutturals.

Manethôs found us an inn. When we had eaten, he said: "You will, I suppose, wait upon the commandant whilst I seek my colleagues in the temple of Thôth. Ere I do that, I must have my head shaved and buy me new footgear, for the boat's bilge water has destroyed all the shoon I brought with me."

"Papyrus doesn't strike me as a practical material for shoes," I said.

"Belike not, but the rules of my religion compel it."

We left our comrades at the inn. Having helped Manethôs to buy a pair of paper shoes, I parted from him and bent my steps in the direction he had indicated, towards a flat-topped hill in the center of the city. On this akropolis stood the camp of the garrison and the palace of King Apries of former times. Manethôs told me that the hill on which the citadel rests is all man-made.

The palace, dating back before the Persian rule, is one of those rambling old edifices of which nearly every part has been demolished and rebuilt at one time or another, so that a chaos of architectural plans and styles results. Next to the room where I waited, workmen were noisily knocking down a wall. Lizards, fleeing the destruction of their homes, darted out of cracks in the wall of the waiting room and scuttled across the floor, pausing only to snap at a passing fly.

The receptionist was a rabbity little clerk named Thespis, who glanced fearfully from time to time towards the door to Alkman's office. When a man came out, Thespis put his head cautiously around the corner of the door. Then he beckoned to me.

"O General!" he said. "This is Chares of Lindos, an officer in the armed forces of Rhodes."

Alkman of Beroia glowered up at me from behind a papyrus-littered table. The strategos was an enormous man: nearly six feet tall, but so broad that he seemed squat. His arms were like the skeins of heavy stone throwers; his legs, like the trunks of gnarled old oaks. Against the fashion, he wore a bristling brown beard. Close-set pale-blue eyes looked out under bushy brows on either side of a nose that some weapon had smashed into a shapeless blob. He wore the undress tunic and kilt of the Ptolemaic army, and his voice was like thunder in the distant hills. One could easily imagine his facing Perdikkas' war elephant with nothing but a spear.

"What do you want?"

I presented my letter and spoke my speech. When I finished, there was silence. Alkman breathed heavily; I almost expected to see flame come from his nostrils.

"Oh, plague! As if I had not enough troubles," he growled, "with the fornicating Egyptians rioting, and taxes below estimates, and the remodeling of the polluted palace, Tauros has to send me a simpering little catamite on the maddest errand since Herakles went after Queen Hippolyta's belt—"

"Sir!" I said, feeling my face flush. "It may seem mad to you, but I'm only trying to carry out my orders as a soldier should—"

"You a soldier? Ha!"

"I am a double-pay man in command of a catapult, and we've fought for more than half a year—"

"Call you that cowardly long-range stuff fighting?"

"I don't care what you call it, General. But I represent a free Hellenic city on a legitimate errand. When I make a civil request, the least a fat-arsed bureaucrat like you can do is to give me a civil answer—"

"Get out, you stinking little he-whore!" roared Alkman in a voice that almost shook the plaster off the walls. With a wrench of his huge hairy hands he tore the letter from Tauros in two.

"Give me that!" I screamed, and dived for the papyrus.

It seems to me that I planted a punch on Alkman's misshapen nose. Then he picked me up with one hand while with the other he hit me a blow on the side of the head that nearly stunned me. I was dimly aware of being borne out through the anteroom to the front door of the palace, of being swung round and round as a quoit is whirled by an athlete, and of being hurled far out into space.

I alighted on the flagstones before the palace with a shattering impact. For an instant I lay, too dazed and pained to move. There was a burst of laughter from the sentries in front of the palace, and a remark about the strategos' having set a new Olympic record. Then I was aware of somebody's helping me up.

"Are any bones broken?" said Thespis in a low, hurried voice.

"I think not," I muttered, trying my joints and choking back tears of futile rage.

"Thank the gods for that! You must excuse the strategos. The Egyptians rioted a ten-day past, with three slain and much property destroyed, and it makes him touchy. None dares speak to him as you did; you are lucky he didn't kill you." Thespis raised his voice, winking at me: "No, get along, fellow! We have no time for such as you!"

"Are the Egyptians in revolt?"

"No, it was a religious affray. Some men of the Province of the Sistrum killed a crocodile and carried it through the streets, and the men of the Crocodilopolite Province resented this flaunting of the slaughter of their sacred beast. But the general has suffered from a headache, and what with one thing and another he has become the most choleric man in Egypt. Go now, my friend, and do not blame the rest of us." Then, in a changed voice: "No, I will not! The strategos has spoken, and that ends the matter!"

"Thanks," I murmured, and limped off.

When I got back to the inn, Dikaiarchos said: "By Zeus the King! What happened to you, Chares?"

I told of my treatment by General Alkman. My comrades clucked and nodded wisely but did not utter any helpful advice.

"You should learn to keep your temper, no matter what the provocation," said Dikaiarchos.

"Easier to say than to do," I said. "The whipworthy rogue would not have used me so foully had he not outweighed me by two to one."

The geographer shrugged. "It is your fate to be small, just as it is mine to be bald and Berosos' to be fat. One must learn to live with these—oh, here is Manethôs . Rejoice, O learned priest! What news?"

"What news indeed? By the triple phallus of Osiris, what ails our commander? Did you get caught in a riot?"

I repeated my tale.

"I like it not," said Manethôs.

"Neither did I."

"That is not what I meant. Tell me exactly what was said, as nearly as you can recall it."

When I had done so, Manethôs pursed his lips. "Forsooth, the strategos is a man of formidable repute, but nought said you at first to incite him to such insult and outrage. Now will I tell you what I have learned. No word of the robe has come to my colleagues, but I have heard somewhat of the state of things in Memphis.

"Ever since Alkman became strategos, organized crime in Memphis has flourished as never before. This is odd, because the strategos, a man of great force and vigor, could stamp out these iniquities as well as any man. One might speculate that these robbers flourish because he suffers them to, and that he suffers them to because it is profitable to him. But this, as I say, is mere surmise.

"Last month, on the tenth of Paophi, was a man named Mathotphes found floating in the Nile with his throat well cut. This Mathotphes was, it seems, the archthief of the entire Province of the White Wall, ruling the robbers, ruffians, burglars, kidnappers, cutpurses, smugglers, forgers, counterfeiters, assassins, and the like, even as General Alkman and the nomarch rule the honest folk. Ever since this event has the Memphite underworld been scuttling about in agitated fashion as do the insects when one overturns a flat stone, all wondering who will take Mathotphes' place. No sooner would the imps of rumor name one for this perilous post than the rapscallion would be found stabbed, poisoned or otherwise disposed of. It would seem that no successor has yet fought his way to the top of this dangerous dung heap.

"Since my colleagues in the temple of Thôth could tell me nought of the robe, they gave me introductions to priests in other temples. If it suits you, O Chares, I will start the rounds of these on the morrow."

Next morning all in our party wished lo see the sights of Memphis. We therefore followed Manethôs through the narrow, winding, dusty streets, past block after block of blank brown walls. Striding ahead with an ivory-handled walking stick, he led us first to the small temple of Hathor in the foreign quarter. He pushed through the crowd of beggars— many blind, for blindness is a common affliction in Egypt— at the entrance to the sacred precinct. He left us in the courtyard (naturally, as we were not purified initiates) and disappeared into the temple proper. Soon he came out again, his visage glum.

"No luck," he said. "Next we shall try the great temple of Phtha."

This is the largest temple in Memphis, standing amid green groves in a spacious temenos in the midst of the city, south of the citadel where I had met with misfortune. About the main entrance, on the south side of the precinct, stand six colossal statues, two of them thirty cubits high and four of them twenty. I have been told that they represent either King Sesostris or the second King Rhameses, surnamed Osymandyas, and his family. In addition, there is an enormous statue, nearly thirty cubits long, lying on its back.

I burnt to examine these statues closely, to see what I could learn about the construction and erection of colossi. However, as soon as we appeared at the principal gate of the temenos, we were set upon not only by beggars but also by a swarm of would-be guides, who clamored:

"You want see sights, yes? Come with me! You want guide? Show you temple, pyramid, tomb? Ride camel? Me clever guide, know all secrets of ancient Memphis! Speak all languages! See dancing girl? Buy jewelry? Need passionate woman? See, here medicine for virility, made from black Ethiopian lotus! Make you good for ten stands a night! Want pretty boy? I get you rare drug, make you dream of heaven! Have fortune told? Come see orgy of Seth-worshipers! Buy antiquities from tombs of old kings? Come with me, I show you good time! See best belly dancer in Egypt, and lie with her afterwards! Come, see rare curios in my shop ..."

I asked Manethôs : "How do you say 'no' in Egyptian?"

"Say, even. If they persist, add rhou-ek, which means 'run away!' "

I said even and rhou-ek until our tormentors gave up and assailed other visitors, such as a lordly Persian couple behind us. For folk from many nations travel to Memphis to see its wondrous sights, and a class of Memphites has grown up to guide, guard, entertain, exploit, and prey upon these travelers.

We followed Manethôs into the temenos of Phtha, who to the Egyptians is the creator, the god of property and stability, and the tutelary deity of Memphis. Inside the temenos a swarm of concessionaires sold religious goods, such as little copper statues of Phtha to bury at the corner of one's lot to keep away evil spirits.

Again Manethôs left us in front of the temple while he went inside. This time he came out with a more cheerful expression.

"There is a rumor in the marketplace," he said, "of a daring theft downriver by a brace of local bullies. But nought can I learn of where the thieves and their plunder are now. Let us go on to the temple of Apis."

We trailed off southward to the temple of Apis, where dwells the sacred bull in a chamber. This chamber opens on a court surrounded by a colonnade whose columns are twelve-cubit statues. Then we marched northwest to the temple of Ammon. Gaining no advantage there, we went on to northward, along a wide asphalt-paved avenue, past the two great statues at the western gate of the temenos of Phtha, and past the sacred lake of Phtha. Here, in a park on the borders of the lake, was a space inclosed by a towering fence of thick bronze bars, with soldiers standing guard and a crowd of sight-seers jostling.

When we had wormed our way up to the bars, I saw that inside the inclosure stood the funeral car and casket of the divine Alexander himself. A breath-taking sight it was. The coffin rested on an enormous four-wheeled carriage of the Persian type, with gilded spokes and iron tires, and hubs in the form of lions' heads, each head holding a golden spear in its teeth. Stretched out from the front axle were four huge jointed poles, each having four quadruple yokes, for the vehicle was made to be drawn by sixty-four mules.

Around the sides of the wagon ran a colonnade upholding a roof of golden scales inlaid with precious stones, with a cornice from which projected golden heads of goat-stags. From the cornice hung four long painted panels showing the Alexander and his bodyguards, his elephants, his cavalry, and his ships. At each corner of the roof stood a golden statue of Victory, and there were bells, golden wreaths, and other ornaments too numerous to list.

Between the columns of the colonnade I would see the huge golden sarcophagus of Alexander, on which lay a gold-embroidered purple robe and the armor and weapons of the great king. Over all floated a vasty purple banner with an olive wreath embroidered in golden thread. The bright Egyptian sun blazed on the gold and flashed on the precious stones until it made one's eyes ache.

When we had looked our fill, we continued northward to the temple of the goddess Neith, where Manethôs made further inquiries. These, however., added nothing to what we had already heard. We crossed a canal and climbed the slopes to the west of the city, to the temple of Anoubis, the dog-headed judge of the dead. This temple stands on the edge of the desert, where a stride takes one from green field to golden-yellow sandy waste.

Thence we trudged, under the scorching Egyptian sun, west along a road lined with brooding sphinxes, where buff-brown pyramids, great and small, rise from inclosures on either hand, and graveyards spread far into the shimmering distance. Despite the heat, I shivered a little at the thought of all the centuries that had passed while kings and commoners were buried here. Hellas is such a new country by comparison!

I asked Onas about an enormous pyramid that rose in six diminishing stages, like giant's steps, on our left. He said:

"The wizard Imouthes built that structure as a tomb for King Sosorthos, who lived but a little time after the reigns of the gods and the demigods."

"What engineers those old fellows must have been!" I exclaimed.

Onas: "That was done, not by your materialistic technics, but by Imouthes' mighty magic."

Manethôs turned his head. "Rubbish, my dear cousin! The only magic used was that of organization and discipline. They quarried the stones with hammer stones and wooden chisels, dressed them with copper saws, hauled them up earthen ramps on sleds, and levered them into place with copper crowbars. My people are many and muscular, and —more to the point—they can work together for a common objective, a virtue for which the Hellenes have never been noted." He cast me a wry smile.

Footsore and weary, we came to the temple of Osiris. Here the clamor of bustling Memphis is heard no more. There is nothing to see but blue sky, golden sand, and this vast complex of sacred buildings; no sound but the murmur of hymns from the temple and the gentle hiss of blowing sand. Inside the temenos stood a great ithyphallic statue of Osiris, draped in a flame-colored robe and symbolizing the generative powers of the sun, the moon, and the Nile.

We sat listlessly in the shade of huge square columns while Manethôs conferred with the priests. Onas said:

"Beneath us lie great chambers wherein rest the mummies of the Apis bulls, each in its own sarcophagus."

Dikaiarchos roused himself. "Can the public see these divine bull coffins?"

"That depends. On certain feast days are the people admitted to services in the tunnels; although, as the entrances to the burial chambers are bricked up, not much is there to see. When an Apis dies and is embalmed, however, the whole city turns out to haul the sarcophagus along the sacred road from Memphis."

Manethôs came out of the temple. "I have not found your robe, my friends, but I may have discovered a means of recovering it. First, suffer me to explain that in Egypt it is an ancient custom for the owners of stolen goods to take them back from thieves on the payment of a small ransom—a fraction of the thing's true value—no questions being asked. For such deals to be consummated, certain men—traders in used wares—must act as intermediaries."

"You mean," said Dikaiarchos, "that you have a class of tolerated fences for stolen goods."

Manethôs shrugged. "That is how things are done. Now, in Memphis, the leading agent of this kind is Tis of Hanes, the dealer in antiquities. He must have done a brisk business for many a year, for he dwells in a costly villa not far from here. Let us, then, proceed to the house of Tis."

Manethôs led his drooping column back along the avenue of sphinxes and then by a path that wound by devious ways among cliffs and cemeteries. Turning a corner, we came upon a fair estate spread out on the side of a hill overlooking the gardens and palm groves of the outskirts of Memphis. A small blue lake glimmered before us, and the shadows of the western hills crept eastward over the city as the sun declined. The sharp chill of the desert night began to succeed the dry, sweat-devouring heat of the day.

A massive wall, to which many cities would not be ashamed to entrust their defense, inclosed the house and grounds. At the gate a peephole opened in answer to Manethôs ' knock. The priest spoke into the hole. After a long wait, while a scarlet sun sank out of sight behind the cliffs, the gate swung open and an enormous Negro—a man seven feet tall, of lean and storklike build—admitted us.

Inside were palms and flowers and pools, two loinclothed gardeners working with trowel and watering pot, and a brace of armed watchmen. A man in white came towards us, calling out in good Greek:

"Welcome, friends! May Thôth grant that Tis of Hanes can aid you in finding your royal raiment. Which of you is which?"

Manethôs cast me a curious, slit-eyed glance, then presented us to Tis. The trader was a dark-skinned man of medium height, rather stout, with a large round head, bald at the top, and closecut graying hair. He had a turned-up nose and a long upper lip over a wide, drooping mouth. Though he was not impressive to look at, his manners were excellent, combining dignity without pomposity, courtesy without servility, and friendliness without vulgar familiarity.

"You are weary and fain to wash before dinner," he said. "You shall, of course, treat my house as your own during your stay. Allow me to show you to your apartments."

The house of Tis was large, with several courts and wings. Tis led us into the main hall.

Here I was struck by the extraordinary display of curious objects: exotic weapons hanging from the walls, strangely wrought vessels on stands, and curious statues in niches. There were things carved in wood and stone and crystal, or cast in bronze and silver and gold. Their value for the rare materials alone must have been great, and for their artistic curiosity, immense. Some of the statues suggested the mysteries of India or the dark menace of the lands beyond Ethiopia; others displayed affinity with the art of no race or nation I had ever heard of. Some were beautiful in an outlandish way, more were grotesque or obscene.

"I must show you my curios, O Chares," said Tis. "But, methinks, a warm bath were more to the point."

I joined Manethôs before we returned to the hall, saying: "Why did you look at me so curiously when Tis came to meet us?"

The priest replied: "Nought had I said to the Nubian porter of our mission, only that I craved audience with the master on a matter in his line of business. No one can know what is in. another's heart, but this dealer in secondhand goods is both too rich and too knowing to suit me."

Then Tis took charge of us, presenting us to his wives. These were two, wearing long tight transparent dresses. The older, Amenardis, was a little taller than I, handsome in a bold angular way, with a full, richly curved body, like a black-haired Hera. As the Poet said, she moved a goddess and she looked a queen.

The younger, Thoueris, was a real little beauty, albeit plainly pregnant. She held a lotus, at which she sniffed from time to time.

Tis showed us about his house while smells of cookery pursued us. His greatest enthusiasm was reserved for the curios in the great hall.

"This," he said, "is the very sword that Alexander wielded at Issos."

"No offense intended, sir," I said, "but how can you be sure of the origin of such a keepsake?"

"A good question, O Chares. It were easy for some dealer to palm off any old blade on me with such a tale, think you? Well, I have traced the ownership of this sword back through former owners, and my agents have questioned those who still live, so there is little chance of my being fooled. Now this"—he held up a hideous little skull-faced figure carved in ivory of a curious hue, mottled with brown as if it had been aged in the ground for centuries—"is Tarn, the goddess of death of the Hyperboreans. This is the wand of a Hyrkanian sorcerer who rashly conjured up an invisible monster, which devoured him on the spot. His apprentice was so upset by the sight that he abandoned sorcery and sold the tools of his late master's trade, and thus this rod of power came into my hands." Tis handed me a shiny black stick with a golden gryphon on its head. "Have a care at whom you point that."

I said: "If I saw my master perish in such a manner, I doubt if 'upset' would be a strong enough word to describe my feeling."

Tis laughed. "Blame my imperfect Greek, best one. This cup is said—but this I assert not, for want of proof—to have come from the secret Arabian city of Oukar, where dwells a cult of such surpassing wickedness that its votaries have given up all the more usual sins as too respectable. This vessel, it is said, was used to catch the blood in some of their less abominable rites."

Onas had been following this catalogue of Bergaean wonders with bulging eyes. Now he said: "Master Tis, have you a copy of the terrible Book of Thôth?"

Tis smiled. "While I do not often confess it, I do possess a copy. However, I keep it safely locked up. Were I to show it to any chance visitor, he might, as many are wont to do, begin reading its spells aloud you know, whispering or at least moving his lips—and then the gods only know what might happen. The less perilous mils of my library are in here."

Tis led us into his library. All the walls, save for the door and window, were covered from floor to ceiling with bookcases. Most of the pigeonholes held scrolls, from the ends of which hung tags healing the lilies. Tis explained:

"This side comprises works in Egyptian; that side holds books in Greek; yonder section contains works in other tongues. Know that I have deviled an ingenious scheme to make it easier to find a book. In the Greek section all the authors whose names begin with alpha are placed here at the beginning of the section; then all those beginning with beta, and so on through the alpha-beta. I have done the same thing for my Egyptian collection, though of course the characters differ."

"By the!" I said. "I wish that some libraries, in which I've spent hours hunting for one title, had been arranged thus."

"I am rather proud of it myself," said Tis. "In fact, I wonder why nobody has thought of it before."

I asked: "Are all these books and rarities that you have shown us things that you mean to keep, or do you deal in them?"

Tis said: "I am a dealer in antiquities, curios, and used goods. My agents travel far and wide, seeking objects suitable for my trade." His wide mouth curled into a smile. "When I buy a thing, it is but a bit of time-worn trash, but when I come to sell, lo! that selfsame article has become a priceless antiquity.

"Now, the best of my purchases I keep for my own pleasure; the rest I sell. The trade goods repose in my warehouses, but those you see here are meant to stay. Not even the treasure of the Persian kings would persuade me to part with them. For I am at heart a romantic sentimentalist, no mere moneygrubber. I toil not merely to garner wealth but also to enjoy the sight of baubles like that sword of Alexander, to savor its touch and to relish its soul-stirring history."

"Such things have mighty magical powers," said Onas.

"Indeed they do," replied our host. "The gods grant that I never have occasion to use these powers against those whom I deemed my friends."

We went in to dinner with the wives of our host, as is customary in many foreign lands. Since Manethôs, as a priest, was allowed but a meager diet of certain plain foods and might not eat pork, mutton, fish, onions, and many other wholesome victuals, Tis had caused him to be given a special ascetic's repast.

During dinner I observed that Tis kept fussing over Thoueris, the younger wife, while ignoring Amenardis, the older. Although the latter made no comment, her looks revealed that she did not relish such treatment. Thoueris kept saying something in Egyptian, over and over in a high whining voice. I asked Amenardis what this meant.

"She want to spend the day in town," said Amenardis in a rich, throaty voice that made each word of her garbled Greek seem like a caress. "Tomorrow day of bullfight at the temple of Apis. She want to see."

"Who fights whom?"

"Two bulls fight. Poke with horns."

"Is one of these the sacred Apis bull?"

"Oser hena Iset, no! Just common mortal bulls. Great crowd come, see which bull win. Bet much money. Make much noise."

"I shouldn't think a pushing, yelling crowd would be any place for a pregnant girl."

Amenardis shrugged, her full, jutting breasts straining the front of her thin, tight gown, which clung to the contours of her small virginal nipples as faithfully as a casting in beeswax. "Pregnant women get strange desires."

"I've heard of their lusting for curious foods, but this is the first time I have seen one lust for a bullfight."

"Also want Tis to buy her necklace. He promise one if she pass third month without—how you say—miscarriage. Now he try to put off; she say he must."

"That, at least, I can understand," I said, and went on to converse with Amenardis. Although her Greek was poor, we managed. She urged me to tell her of my achievements and ambitions; so, naturally, I found her charming. She could also jest in a tongue whereof she was not master. She said:

"And when you build the most big statue man can make, what you do then?"

"I don't know. I had not thought beyond that."

"I tell you. When you finish statue, you climb up to the head, jump off, and kill self."

"In Hera's name, why? That were the time for rejoicing!"

"Ah, but if this statue the most big that man can build, you can never make one more big. So you have nothing to look forward to. I think you should wait until you are old before you build statue. You nice boy. I not like to see you dead soon." She drew back her head and looked at me from under lowered lids. The effect was somehow as if she were looking up from a pillow.

"I'm a bit older than I look!" declared I.

"You know, I tell you secret. It other way round with me! Living with Tis make me look more old than I am."

"Come, madam, you are no older than I." (I judged Amenardis to be above five years older than I, in fact.)

"Ha! How nice if true. But I not mind being old lady. Modern Greek sculptors make statues of beggars, old ladies, and ugly things like that. So maybe you make statue of me."

"When the war is over," I said, "I shall be glad to. You would make a fine statue, having a strong bone structure."

"Strong bones not what men like in Egypt, alas! Like little soft plump girls, like kittens." She shot a lethal glance at Thoueris. "Nobody mistake me for kitten, even if I say meou, meou."

So went our chaff. By the end of our repast we were so absorbed in each other that we ignored the other diners in a way that was neither courteous nor prudent. Tis, though too much taken up with Thoueris to pay much heed to his older wife, and too self-controlled to show his emotions readily, still cast me a veiled glance that reined in my spirit.

After dinner the ladies withdrew. My eyes followed Amenardis out while my heart pounded. Tis called for more wine and said:

"Now to business, gentlemen. Seek you a robe, once belonging to Demetrios Antigonou, stolen from you at Tamiathis a few days past?"

I spoke: "That's true, sir. But how did you know?"

"The bats whispered a rumor in my ears as they fluttered through the dusk, and I got further details from Manethôs and Onas whilst you so charmingly entertained my wife. Can you tell me of this garment in more detail?"

"It's a silken robe of Persian cut, with long sleeves, made for a powerful man over six feet tall. It is a light grayish blue, with a purple strip one digit wide along the edges, and with stars and astronomical symbols worked in golden thread and spangles all over it."

"What say you it were worth if bought in the mart?"

"I don't know; those who deal in textiles can tell you better. I think I could have it copied for—say, five pounds."

Tis: "It were more in Egypt, because we have as yet but little domestic manufacture of silk, and there is an import tariff to pay. Know you our Egyptian custom for the recovery of stolen goods?"

"Yes. What is the going rate?"

"For centuries it has been one-fourth of the value of the goods. A thief who asked more would deem himself dishonest. However, we have here more to consider than mere market value. This is a special robe, destined to special uses. It were worth more to Rhodes than a similar robe, not made by Demetrios' wife for her husband on his assumption of royal rank. Do you understand?"

"You're saying that this robe's sentimental associations would give it more than its ordinary value."

"Aye, sir."

"How much more are you thinking of?"

"Oh—perhaps a total value of a hundred and twenty pounds."

"Two talents!" I cried. "That's fantastic, sir! I'm sure you would never get so much from Rhodes. Anyway, I brought no such sums with me, but only enough to pay the expenses of the journey. Our orders were to recover the garment, by force of arms if need be; not to ransom it."

Tis shrugged. "Remember, I am but an agent, and I have not yet even found your robe. I expected not that you would bear such a sum upon you. However, you could, once a bargain had been struck, return to your ship and obtain the money from your captain, who no doubt carries funds for emergencies."

"I don't think this plan is practical, sir. Even if Python would pay so fabulous a price, our city is under siege. There is no time for me to travel up and down the Nile between Tamiathis and Memphis, bearing offers back and forth while you and Python come together on price. If you locate your thieves and learn what they demand, why can't you come to Tamiathis with us and do your chaffering face to face?"

"My business affairs do not permit. It were easier for your Captain Python to come hither."

"But he must stay with his ship, to oversee its repair and keep his crew in order. All I really need to know is where the polluted gown is, and my comrades and I will get it or die trying."

Tis looked shocked. "My dear sir, are you suggesting that I betray my clients? That were dishonorable!"

I decided to take a worldly line with this dubious antiquarian. "Look, old boy," I said, "you get a commission on these deals, don't you?"

Tis smiled. "You cannot expect me to engage in so speculative a business without recompense, though in Egypt it is considered more polite not to bring the matter up so baldly."

"Excuse my foreign crudity, but what's the going rate for making such arrangements?"

"One-third of the sum paid to the thieves."

"So the higher the price, the better for you?"

"Aye, unless the price be set so high that the whole deal fall through. In that case I lose my time and risk my person for nought."

"Perhaps if you enabled us to locate and recover the robe by force of arms, we could pay you good round sum, which you would not have to divide with anybody. Either the thieves would all be dead, or we should be."

"By Bakchos, you horrify me, young sir, with such bloodthirsty talk! I know not how the lonians can consider themselves cultured, so long as they take so readily to throat-cutting." (Egyptians have a habit of calling all Hellenes "lonians," whether they be such or not.) "Aside from that, what about it?"

"Nay, Master Chares, you misjudge me. I have a position and a reputation, which I hope will continue to serve me long after you have departed from the land of Chem. I will not risk all of that for a single quick gain. However, perhaps I could send a trusted agent to Tamiathis with you to negotiate.

"In any case," continued Tis, yawning, "this is all bootless speculation. I know not where your robe is, or in whose hands. It may have passed on into the south—to Kene or Koptos or Neth-Ammon—and thus be out of my jurisdiction. However, if you will make yourselves at home here, I will put out inquiries and consult certain occult sources of knowledge. Within a few days we should know better where we stand."

We retired. Manethôs , being a priest, and I, as the commander of the expedition, had rooms to ourselves. The others shared a large guest room. I slept ill, although I was tired from hiking about Memphis, and the bed of ivory and ebony was the most luxurious that I had ever occupied.

When I read over the foregoing account of my talk with Tis, I am struck by the impression I have given of my own brisk competence. This is false. While I spoke those words —or at least words much like them—to Tis, my speech was mechanical. Half my mind was on the dialogue while the other half whirled in confusion about one thought: the thought of Tis's wife, Amenardis.

That night I cared not a copper half-farthing about Demetrios' robe, or my art, or even the fate of beautiful Rhodes. All that really concerned me was to see this fascinating woman again and to speak to her.

Perhaps, even, to touch her.