Georg Ebers - Premium Collection: Historical Novels, Stories & Autobiography. Georg Ebers
Читать онлайн книгу.Egyptian,” were his last words, “and must therefore be tried by an Egyptian supreme court. In any other case I should be delighted to render you any service in my power.”
During this conversation Zopyrus had been begging his friends not to take any trouble about him. “By Mithras,” he cried, when Bartja offered to declare himself to the Egyptians as a means of procuring his freedom, “I vow I’ll stab myself without a second thought, if you give yourselves up to those dogs of Egyptians. Why the whole town is talking about the war already, and do you think that if Psamtik knew he’d got such splendid game in his net, he would let you loose? He would keep you as hostages, of course. No, no, my friends. Good-bye; may Auramazda send you his best blessings! and don’t quite forget the jovial Zopyrus, who lived and died for love and war.”
The captain of the band placed himself at the head of his men, gave the order to march, and in a few minutes Zopyrus was out of sight.
CHAPTER XI.
According to the law of Egypt, Zopyrus had deserved death.
As soon as his friends heard this, they resolved to go to Sais and try to rescue him by stratagem. Syloson, who had friends there and could speak the Egyptian language well, offered to help them.
Bartja and Darius disguised themselves so completely by dyeing their hair and eyebrows and wearing broad-brimmed felt-hats,—that they could scarcely recognize each other. Theopompus provided them with ordinary Greek dresses, and, an hour after Zopyrus’ arrest, they met the splendidly-got-up Syloson on the shore of the Nile, entered a boat belonging to him and manned by his slaves, and, after a short sail, favored by the wind, reached Sais,—which lay above the waters of the inundation like an island,—before the burning midsummer sun had reached its noonday height.
They disembarked at a remote part of the town and walked across the quarter appropriated to the artisans. The workmen were busy at their calling, notwithstanding the intense noonday heat. The baker’s men were at work in the open court of the bakehouse, kneading bread—the coarser kind of dough with the feet, the finer with the hands. Loaves of various shapes were being drawn out of the ovens-round and oval cakes, and rolls in the form of sheep, snails and hearts. These were laid in baskets, and the nimble baker’s boys would put three, four, or even five such baskets on their heads at once, and carry them off quickly and safely to the customers living in other quarters of the city. A butcher was slaughtering an ox before his house, the creature’s legs having been pinioned; and his men were busy sharpening their knives to cut up a wild goat. Merry cobblers were calling out to the passers-by from their stalls; carpenters, tailors, joiners and weavers—were all there, busy at their various callings. The wives of the work-people were going out marketing, leading their naked children by the hand, and some soldiers were loitering near a man who was offering beer and wine for sale.
But our friends took very little notice of what was going on in the streets through which they passed; they followed Syloson in silence.
At the Greek guard-house he asked them to wait for him. Syloson, happening to know the Taxiarch who was on duty that day, went in and asked him if he had heard anything of a man accused of murder having been brought from Naukratis to Sais that morning.
“Of course,” said the Greek. “It’s not more than half an hour since he arrived. As they found a purse full of money in his girdle, they think he must be a Persian spy. I suppose you know that Cambyses is preparing for war with Egypt.”
“Impossible!”
“No, no, it’s a fact. The prince-regent has already received information. A caravan of Arabian merchants arrived yesterday at Pelusium, and brought the news.”
“It will prove as false as their suspicions about this poor young Lydian. I know him well, and am very sorry for the poor fellow. He belongs to one of the richest families in Sardis, and only ran away for fear of the powerful satrap Oroetes, with whom he had had a quarrel. I’ll tell you the particulars when you come to see me next in Naukratis. Of course you’ll stay a few days and bring some friends. My brother has sent me some wine which beats everything I ever tasted. It’s perfect nectar, and I confess I grudge offering it to any one who’s not, like you, a perfect judge in such matters.” The Taxiarch’s face brightened up at these words, and grasping Syloson’s hand, he exclaimed. “By the dog, my friend, we shall not wait to be asked twice; we’ll come soon enough and take a good pull at your wine-skins. How would it be if you were to ask Archidice, the three flower-sisters, and a few flute-playing-girls to supper?”
[Archidice—A celebrated Hetaira of Naukratis mentioned by Herod.
II. 135. Flute-playing girls were seldom missing at the young
Greeks’ drinking-parties]
“They shall all be there. By the bye, that reminds me that the flower-girls were the cause of that poor young Lydian’s imprisonment. Some jealous idiot attacked him before their house with a number of comrades. The hot-brained young fellow defended himself....”
“And knocked the other down?”
“Yes; and so that he’ll never get up again.”
“The boy must be a good boxer.”
“He had a sword.”
“So much the better for him.”
“No, so much the worse; for his victim was an Egyptian.”
“That’s a bad job. I fear it can only have an unfortunate end. A foreigner, who kills an Egyptian, is as sure of death as if he had the rope already round his neck. However, just now he’ll get a few days’ grace; the priests are all so busy praying for the dying king that they have no time to try criminals.”
“I’d give a great deal to be able to save that poor fellow. I know his father.”
“Yes, and then after all he only did his duty. A man must defend himself.”
“Do you happen to know where he is imprisoned?”
“Of course I do. The great prison is under repair, and so he has been put for the present in the storehouse between the principal guard-house of the Egyptian body-guard and the sacred grove of the temple of Neith. I have only just come home from seeing them take him there.”
“He is strong and has plenty of courage; do you think he could get away, if we helped him?”
“No, it would be quite impossible; he’s in a room two stories high; the only window looks into the sacred grove, and that, you know, is surrounded by a ten-foot wall, and guarded like the treasury. There are double sentries at every gate. There’s only one place where it is left unguarded during the inundation season, because, just here, the water washes the walls. These worshippers of animals are as cautious as water-wagtails.”
“Well, it’s a great pity, but I suppose we must leave the poor fellow to his fate. Good-bye, Doemones; don’t forget my invitation.”
The Samian left the guard-room and went back directly to the two friends, who were waiting impatiently for him.
They listened eagerly to his tidings, and when he had finished his description of the prison, Darius exclaimed: “I believe a little courage will save him. He’s as nimble as a cat, and as strong as a bear. I have thought of a plan.”
“Let us hear it,” said Syloson, “and let me give an opinion as to its practicability.”
“We will buy some rope-ladders, some cord, and a good bow, put all these into our boat, and row to the unguarded part of the temple-wall at dusk. You must then help me to clamber over it. I shall take the things over with me and give the eagle’s cry. Zopyras will know at once, because, since we were children, we have been accustomed to use it when we were riding or hunting together. Then I shall shoot an arrow, with the cord fastened to it, up into his window, (I never miss), tell him to fasten a weight