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Updated: June 4, 2025
The young sage spoke well, and Bent-Anat followed his words, not without approbation; but Pentaur's face grew darker, and before his favorite disciple had ended his speech he interrupted him sternly. His voice was at first reproachful, and then complaining, and loud as he spoke, only sorrow rang in his tones, and not anger.
Uarda's father, who had learned every path and bridge in Syria, accompanied the poet, while the physician Nebsecht remained with the ladies, whose good star seemed to have deserted them with Pentaur's departure, for the violent winter rains which fell in the mountains of Samaria destroyed the roads, soaked through the tents, and condemned them frequently to undesirable delays.
His prayers, however, had no power to touch Nebsecht, who only strove forcibly to disengage his finger from Pentaur's strong hand, which held him as in a clasp of iron. The excited poet did not remark that he was hurting his friend, until after a new and vain attempt at freeing himself, Nebsecht cried out in pain, "You are crushing my finger!"
A quickly-formed tie, he felt, linked their souls, and the look which he saw them exchange startled him. The rebellious princess had glanced at the poet as though claiming approbation for her triumph, and Pentaur's eyes had responded to the appeal. One instant Ameni paused. Then he cried: "Bent-Anat!" The princess turned to the priest, and looked at him gravely and enquiringly.
You hold it lawful to put a beast to pain, when you can thereby increase that knowledge by which you alleviate the sufferings of man, and enrich " "And do not you?" A gentle smile passed over Pentaur's face; leaned over the animal and said: "How curious! the little beast still lives and breathes; a man would have long been dead under such treatment.
They slept in the same court-yard, and contrived, now and then, to exchange a few words in secret; but by day Nebsecht worked in the turquoise-diggings, and Pentaur in the mines, for the careful chipping out of the precious stones from their stony matrix was the work best suited to the slight physician, while Pentaur's giant-strength was fitted for hewing the ore out of the hard rock.
Pentaur stood still, astounded and incapable of speech, till he perceived a young man, who crept up to him on his hands and feet, which were bound with thongs, and who cried to him in a tone, in which terror was mingled with a tenderness which touched Pentaur's very soul. "Save me Spirit of the Mohar! save me, father!" Then the poet spoke. "I am no spirit of the dead," said he.
The old man cried out at the blow, and at the cry the paraschites stricken down with stones his own struggle with the mob and the appearance of Bent Anat flashed into Pentaur's memory.
"That has been done a hundred times, and Ameni will regard me as a perjurer, for I have sworn not to attempt Pentaur's life." "To be sure, thou hast sworn that, and men keep their word to each other. Wait a moment, how would this do?
You understand how necessary the priesthood is to me, and I have sworn not to make any attempt on Pentaur's life; but, I repeat it, he stands in my way. I have my spies in the House of Seti, and I know through them what the sending of the poet to Chennu really means. For a time they will let him hew sandstone, and that will only improve his health, for he is as sturdy as a tree.
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