The Last Pharaoh - ebook

The Last Pharaoh

_That strange bewitching jewel, the Sphinx Emerald, plays another part in world drama when a Mata Hari betrays the Egyptians, and Artaxerxes of Persia storms up the Nile to take over the ancient kingdom of the Pharaohs._

I HAVE been called a commercial-minded Greek, a sour, money-mad curmudgeon and other such names, and probably with some truth. However, it is safe to say that I am the only person who really understands what lay behind those events in Egypt. I was part of the show myself, and my firm had a finger in the events.

Full thirty years previously, my father had emigrated from Greece, when King Agesilaus of Sparta sailed from Greece to join Nekht Horu-heb, Pharaoh of Egypt, and inflicted a crushing defeat on the Persians. Our contracting firm was founded then, and I carried it on in my own day as the biggest concern of its kind in the world. Our headquarters were in Memphis, of course. This was in the time of Nekht-nebf, whom we Greeks called Nektanebos, the greatest king Egypt had known for generations. The Hebrews gave him that silly title of Pharaoh, deriving it from the Egyptian title _Per’aa_or Great House, one of the many oddments that dangled on royalty’s mantle.

We were doing very nicely in those days. Nektanebos was a great soldier and builder and civilizer. There was always war with Persia, which looked upon Egypt as a revolted province; but in fact our king belonged to an actual native dynasty tracing its blood back to the great Ramses. Our firm, Archias & Co., prospered heavily because Greeks were everywhere. The armies were largely Greek mercenaries. Greeks had settled heavily in Egypt and Persia and Asia Minor; they vied with the Hebrews in business and commerce–indeed, my chief competitor was a fellow named Saul, who headed a Hebrew contracting firm.

Nekht had been king for about eighteen years when that odd business of the Sphinx emerald came to my attention. I was getting on in years, being in my fifties; my wife was dead, and my boy Archias was in Tyre, handling the foreign angles of the business, while I ran the head office in Memphis.

Being on fairly intimate terms with the King helped the bank- account but kept me on the jump. He had made me one of the council, too, which was onerous work at times. He was forty-five or so–easy-going, rather credulous and superstitious, but a fine sort of man just the same. He had one son, who was in charge of the army at Pelusium, on the Syrian frontier. The crack troops were there because of the Persian danger. The prince was not up to much, however, and I said so frankly to Nekht.

“That boy of yours needs a bit of stiffening,” I said one evening at the palace. “He’s giving his time to women and hard drinking. Give him a job at that new quarry you’ve opened at Tura–hard work there!”

“I may, when this present crisis is over,” he said, stroking his oval, deeply lined features. “At the moment, he’s needed where he is, as a figurehead. The army–”

“Oh, I know!” I broke in. “You should be there in place of him. You’re a real soldier. You licked the Persians before; you can do it again. I’ve had letters from my son in Tyre. He thinks the Persians are secretly on the move–the betting is that Ochus will be King of Egypt inside of six months.”

He grunted. “That fellow’s no soldier–an old man, worn out, faded! The stars say he hasn’t two years to live, Archias.”

“Are you still steeping yourself in astrology?” I snorted. “That’s absurd.”

A chamberlain came in, muttering hurried words. The King nodded.

“Bring her in, now,” he ordered, then turned to me. “My friend, I’d like your opinion of this woman, and her errand. The stars predicted her coming, you know–”

“Pardon me,” I broke in. “The stars don’t predict anything. If I were in cahoots with one of your astrologers, I’d make predictions too, and bring ’em about.”

“You’re a hard-headed old skeptic,” he shot out. “Don’t you believe in anything?”

“Depends on how much I have to lose,” I told him. “You have a good deal–Egypt. Can’t you realize that these astrologers you support are taking you for a sucker?”

“No,” he said, half-angrily. “The secrets of the stars, their influence on our lives and destinies, is an ancient science. We inherited it from Chaldea. Try now to control your cynic mind, and don’t snap so readily at other men’s beliefs. Here, while I’m talking with her, you can look at this–it’s been handed down in the family from ancient days.”

He passed me a green bauble. I took it but disregarded it.

“Wait,” I said. “Tell me where she came from?”

“Out of the eastern mountains, with a message from the gods,” he said, just as a woman and two guards came in. He motioned them forward.

I relaxed and looked at what he had given me. It was a lumpy emerald set in a ring or circlet of gold–a poor emerald of wretched color, badly flawed, sadly in need of cutting and shaping. This, for the moment, was all I saw in it, for I looked up at the woman as she came forward and sank in prostration before the King, with the two-armed royal salute. Then she rose and threw back her veil and handed him a small scroll.

“The god Horus gave me this scroll for you, O King,” she said. “He came to me in dream, left this in token of his coming, ordered me to bring it myself to you. It is sealed with his own seal.”

“Who are you?” Nekht asked her; and at the look in his face I suppressed a groan. Some people will believe anything, with superstition to prod them.

“I am named Merti,” she said. “In the ancient days my fathers were priests of Horus at the shrine of the Sphinx.”

“Oh!” said he. “The Great Sphinx by the Pyramids?”

“No, lord,” she replied. “Its fellow, in the eastern hills, that faces westward.”

He said no more, but began to read the scroll. She waited, her eyes downcast. She was a pretty thing in a way–beautiful, if you like the word. I prefer women with sense to those with outward beauty, and I glanced at the emerald in my hand. It startled me, and I held it up and looked again, doubting my own eyes.

BY Zeus! It was true–within the stone was a tiny Sphinx! Some sort of trick, I thought, till I discerned the truth: Flaws and bubbles in the stone had come together to make the figure–not a mere rough shape, but exact, perfect, clearly cut–set in the very heart of the crystal. No man could have made this; it was supernatural, from the hands of the gods. I am not superstitious. I do not waste good money buying birds and bulls for sacrifice on the altars that the lazy priests may feast. Still, for one moment I did have a sharply uneasy thrill at sight of this Sphinx. Bad luck, I told myself, with a bit of Greek instinct; we Greeks never worshiped sphinxes.

“An interesting communication, superbly written,” said the King, turning to me. “You read Egyptian–look at it.” He passed the scroll to me and looked at the woman. “I shall probably obey the commands of the god Horus, Lady Merti. Anciently, each great Sphinx had an attached temple where Horus was worshiped; we have today forgotten those shrines, which are almost completely buried under the sand. To clear them will be a great labor. To do it myself, as the god desires–well, I shall think about it.”

“Horus will reward you, O King,” she murmured.

He looked pleased. “Do you remain in Memphis, lady?” he asked.

“Until I receive your answer, yes,” she replied. “I have one or two other errands here. I must see a Greek named Archias, and one or two other lords, before returning.”

Nekht gave me a glance, but I remained silent, and he took the hint.

“Return, then, in a week,” he said, “and receive my answer. You shall be lodged with the priestesses of Isis as a royal guest; see whom you will. Gifts worthy of your beauty will be brought you in the morning.”

SHE withdrew. She had never so much as looked at me; yet I had an idea she knew all about me. When we were alone again, Nekht turned to me.

“Well, Archias, what do you think of this?”

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