“And have you been in battle?” Chebron asked in surprise.
“That was the first time I had ever fought with men,” Amuba said; “but I had often hunted the lion, and he is almost as terrible an enemy as your soldiers. I was young to go to battle, but my father naturally wished me to take my place early among the fighting men of our nation.”
“By the way, Chebron,” Ameres said, “I would warn you, mention to no one the rank that Amuba held in his own country. Were it known he might be taken away from us to serve in the palace. His people who were taken captives with him said nothing as to his rank, fearing that ill might befall him were it known, and it was therefore supposed that he was of the same rank as the other captives, who were all men of noble birth among the Rebu. Therefore tell no one, not even your mother or your sister Mysa. If there is a secret to be kept, the fewer who know it the better.”
While this conversation had been going on Amuba had been narrowly examining the lad who had promised to treat him as a friend.
Like his father he was fairer in complexion than the majority of the Egyptians, the lighter hue being, indeed, almost universal among the upper class. He was much shorter and slighter than the young Rebu, but he carried himself well, and had already in his manner something of the calm and dignity that distinguished Egyptians born to high rank. He was disfigured, as Amuba thought, by the custom, general throughout Egypt, of having his head smoothly shaven, except one lock which fell down over the left ear. This, as Amuba afterward learned, was the distinguishing sign of youth, and would be shaved off when he attained man’s estate, married, or entered upon a profession.
At present his head was bare, but when he went out he wore a close-fitting cap with an orifice through which the lock of hair passed out and fell down to his shoulder. He had not yet taken to the custom general among the upper and middle classes of wearing a wig. This general shaving of the head had, to Amuba, a most unpleasant effect until he became accustomed to it. It was adopted, doubtless, by the Egyptians for the purpose of coolness and cleanliness; but Amuba thought that he would rather spend any amount of pains in keeping his hair free from dust than go about in the fantastic and complicated wigs that the Egyptians wore.
The priest now led them within the house. On passing through the entrance they entered a large hall. Along its side ran a row of massive columns supporting the ceiling, which projected twelve feet from each wall; the walls were covered with marble and other colored stones; the floor was paved with the same material; a fountain played in the middle, and threw its water to a considerable height, for the portion of the hall between the columns was open to the sky; seats of a great variety of shapes stood about the room; while in great pots were placed palms and other plants of graceful foliage. The ceiling was painted with an elaborate pattern in colors. A lady was seated upon a long couch. It had no back, but one end was raised as a support for the arm, and the ends were carved into the semblance of the heads of animals.
Two Nubian slave girls stood behind her fanning her, and a girl about twelve years old was seated on a low stool studying from a roll of papyrus. She threw it down and jumped to her feet as her father entered, and the lady rose with a languid air, as if the effort of even so slight a movement was a trouble to her.
“Oh, papa—” the girl began, but the priest checked her with a motion of his hand.
“My dear,” he said to his wife, “I have brought home two of the captives whom our great king has brought with him as trophies of his conquest. He has handed many over for our service and that of the temples, and these two have fallen to my share. They were of noble rank in their own country, and we will do our best to make them forget the sad change in their position.”
“You are always so peculiar in your notions, Ameres,” the lady said more pettishly than would have been expected from her languid movements. “They are captives; and I do not see that it makes any matter what they were before they were captives, so that they are captives now. By all means treat them as you like, so that you do not place them about me, for their strange-colored hair and eyes and their white faces make me shudder.”
“Oh, mamma, I think it so pretty,” Mysa exclaimed. “I do wish my hair was gold-colored like that boy’s, instead of being black like everyone else’s.”
The priest shook his head at his daughter reprovingly; but she seemed in no way abashed, for she was her father’s pet, and knew well enough that he was never seriously angry with her.
“I do not propose placing them near you, Amense,” he said calmly in reply to his wife. “Indeed, it seems to me that you have already more attendants about you than you can find any sort of employment for. The lad I have specially allotted to Chebron; as to the other I have not exactly settled as to what his duties will be.”
“Won’t you give him to me, papa?” Mysa said coaxingly. “Fatina is not at all amusing, and Dolma, the Nubian girl, can only look good-natured and show her white teeth, but as we can’t understand each other at all I don’t see that she is of any use to me.”
“And what use do you think you could make of this tall Rebu?” the priest asked, smiling.
“I don’t quite know, papa,” Mysa said, as with her head a little on one side she examined Jethro critically, “but I like his looks, and I am sure he could do all sorts of things; for instance, he could walk with me when I want to go out, he could tow me round the lake in the boat, he could pick up my ball for me, and could feed my pets.”
“When you are too lazy to feed them yourself,” the priest put in. “Very well, Mysa, we will try the experiment. Jethro shall be your special attendant, and when you have nothing for him to do, which will be the best part of the day, he can look after the waterfowl. Zunbo never attends them properly. Do you understand that?” he asked Jethro.
Jethro replied by stepping forward, taking the girl’s hand, and bending over it until his forehead touched it.
“There is an answer for you, Mysa.”
“You indulge the children too much, Ameres,” his wife said irritably. “I do not think in all Egypt there are any children so spoiled as ours. Other men’s sons never speak unless addressed, and do not think of sitting down in the presence of their father. I am astonished indeed that you, who are looked up to as one of the wisest men in Egypt, should suffer your children to be so familiar with you.”
“Perhaps, my dear,” Ameres said with a placid smile, “it is because I am one of the wisest men in Egypt. My children honor me in their hearts as much as do those who are kept in slavelike subjection. How is a boy’s mind to expand if he does not ask questions, and who should be so well able to answer his questions as his father? There, children, you can go now. Take your new companions with you, and show them the garden and your pets.”
“We are fortunate, indeed, Jethro,” Amuba said as they followed Chebron and Mysa into the garden. “When we pictured to ourselves as we lay on the sand at night during our journey hither what our life would be, we never dreamed of anything like this. We thought of tilling the land, of aiding to raise the great dams and embankments, of quarrying stones for the public buildings, of a grinding and hopeless slavery, and the only thing that ever we ventured to hope for was that we might toil side by side, and now, see how good the gods have been to us. Not only are we together, but we have found friends in our masters, a home in this strange land.”
“Truly it is wonderful, Amuba. This Priest Ameres is a most excellent person, one to be loved by all who come near him. We have indeed been most fortunate in having been chosen by him.”
The brother and sister led the way through an avenue of fruit trees, at the end of which a gate led through a high paling of rushes into an inclosure some fifty feet square. It was surrounded by trees and shrubs, and in their shade stood a number of wooden structures.
In the center was a pool occupying the