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"Forward!" cried the heir, rushing on, sword in hand. The Greeks lowered their spears. On the opposing side there was a movement, a murmur flew along the ranks, and spears also were lowered. "Who are ye, madmen?" asked a mighty voice. "The heir to the throne!" shouted Patrokles. A moment of silence. "Open ranks!" commanded the same voice, mighty as before.
Three talents to the worthy Nitager and three to the worthy Patrokles; that will be done here immediately. Sarah and her father I can pay through that mangy Azarias even better to pay them thus, for they would cheat the prince in reckoning." Ramses began to walk through the room impatiently. "Then am I to give a note for thirty talents?" "What note? why a note? what good would a note be to me?
I will impale you on stakes, if I do not learn this minute where that poisonous reptile is, that son of a wild boar." "Ei! where our leader is?" cried one of the Libyans, pointing to a little crowd on horseback which was advancing slowly in the depth of the desert. "What is that?" inquired the prince. "The wretch Musawasa is fleeing!" said Patrokles, and he almost fell to the ground.
They were ready to march to the house, when a second messenger from the prince detained them. He commanded the soldiers to remain at the shore, and summoned only their leader, Patrokles. They halted and stood without movement, like two rows of columns covered with glittering armor.
"I am not the leader, I am only a judge," replied the minister, quietly. "But what can Patrokles be doing?" "Patrokles is bringing up the military engines with his Greek regiment." "But my relative and adjutant, Tutmosis?" "He is sleeping yet, I suppose." Ramses stamped impatiently, and was silent. He was a beautiful youth, with a face almost feminine, to which anger and sunburn added charm.
"During this whole battle I did not raise a hand on any man, and now I am to give up the Libyan leader? What would be said by the warriors whom I have sent out under spears and axes?" "The army cannot remain without a leader." "But are not Patrokles, Tutmosis, and finally Mentezufis, here? For what purpose am I commander if I cannot hunt the enemy?
"Let us see if this is a military stratagem," answered the prince, after some thought. "How are our men?" "They are in good health, they have eaten and drunk, they have rested and are gladsome. But." "But what?" "Patrokles died in the night," whispered Tutmosis. "How?" cried the prince, springing up. "Some say that he drank too much, some that it was the punishment of the gods.
"Is it known to you," asked he, "that the priests wish to make of the remains of Patrokles a mummy of the first order, and to put it near the graves of the pharaohs? Can honor greater than this meet a man anywhere?" The Greeks hesitated; at last Kalippos took courage and answered, "Our lord, permit us to open our hearts to thee.
After the messenger went, Patrokles in a helmet with plumes, wearing a purple tunic over which he had gilded armor ornamented on the breast with the picture of a woman's head bristling with serpents instead of hair. The prince received the famous general at the garden gate. He did not smile as usual, did not even answer the low bow of Patrokles, but said coldly,
"Depart with my favor and in peace. I will do what is indicated by wisdom and justice." The dignitaries bowed low, and Ramses XII, without waiting for his suite, passed to remoter chambers. When the two leaders found themselves alone in the entrance hall, Nitager said to Patrokles, "Here priests rule as in their own house. I see that. But what a leader that Herhor is!
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