The Sisters — Complete by Georg Ebers (reading diary txt) 📕

Klea obeyed the high-priest’s command at once, and wandered—not knowing exactly whither—from one corridor to another of the huge pile, till she was startled by the sound of the great brazen plate, struck with mighty blows, which rang out to the remotest nook and corner of the precincts. This call was for her too, and she went forthwith into the great court of assembly, which at every moment grew fuller and fuller. The temple-servants and the keepers of the beasts, the gate-keepers, the litter-bearers, the water-carriers-all streamed in from their interrupted meal, some wiping their mouths as they hurried in, or still holding in their hands a piece of bread, a radish, or a date which they hastily munched; the washer-men and women came in with hands still wet from washing the white robes of the priests, and the cooks arrived with brows still streaming from their unfinished labors. Perfumes floated round from the unwashed hands of the pastophori, who had been busied in the laboratories in the preparation of incense, while from the library and writing-rooms came the curators and scribes and the officials of the temple counting-house, their hair in disorder, and their light working-dress stained with red or black. The troop of singers, male and female, came in orderly array, just as they had been assembled for practice, and with them came the faded twins to whom Klea and Irene had been designated as successors by Asclepiodorus. Then came the pupils of the temple-school, tumbling noisily into the court-yard in high delight at this interruption to their lessons. The eldest of these were sent to bring in the great canopy under which the heads of the establishment might assemble.

Last of all appeared Asclepiodorus, who handed to a young scribe a complete list of all the inhabitants and members of the temple, that he might read it out. This he proceeded to do; each one answered with an audible “Here” as his name was called, and for each one who was absent information was immediately given as to his whereabouts.

Klea had joined the singing-women, and awaited in breathless anxiety a long-endlessly long-time for the name of her sister to be called; for it was not till the very smallest of the school-boys and the lowest of the neat-herds had answered, “Here,” that the scribe read out, “Klea, the water-bearer,” and nodded to her in answer as she replied “Here!”

Then his voice seemed louder than before as he read. “Irene, the water-bearer.”

No answer following on these words, a slight movement, like the bowing wave that flies over a ripe cornfield when the morning breeze sweeps across the ears, was evident among the assembled inhabitants of the temple, who waited in breathless silence till Asclepiodorus stood forth, and said in a distinct and audible voice:

“You have all met here now at my call. All have obeyed it excepting those holy men consecrated to Serapis, whose vows forbid their breaking their seclusion, and Irene, the water-bearer. Once more I call, ‘Irene,’ a second, and a third time—and still no answer; I now appeal to you all assembled here, great and small, men and women who serve Serapis. Can any one of you give any information as to the whereabouts of this young girl? Has any one seen her since, at break of day, she placed the first libation from the Well of the Sun on the altar of the god? You are all silent! Then no one has met her in the course of this day? Now, one question more, and whoever can answer it stand forth and speak the words of truth.

“By which gate did this lady of rank depart who visited the temple early this morning?—By the eastern gate—good.

“Was she alone?—She was.

“By which gate did the epistolographer Eulaeus depart?—By the east.

“Was he alone?—He was.

“Did any one here present meet the chariot either of the lady or of Eulaeus?”

“I did,” cried a car-driver, whose daily duty it was to go to Memphis with his oxen and cart to fetch provisions for the kitchen, and other necessaries.

“Speak,” said the high-priest.

“I saw,” replied the man, “the white horses of my Lord Eulaeus hard by the vineyard of Khakem; I know them well. They were harnessed to a closed chariot, in which besides himself sat a lady.”

“Was it Irene?” asked Asclepiodorus.

“I do not know,” replied the tarter, “for I could not see who sat in the chariot, but I heard the voice of Eulaeus, and then a woman’s laugh. She laughed so heartily that I had to screw my mouth up myself, it tickled me so.”

While Klea supposed this description to apply to Irene’s merry laugh-which she had never thought of with regret till this moment—the high-priest exclaimed:

“You, keeper of the eastern gate, did the lady and Eulaeus enter and leave this sanctuary together?”

“No,” was the answer. “She came in half an hour later than he did, and she quitted the temple quite alone and long after the eunuch.”

“And Irene did not pass through your gate, and cannot have gone out by it?—I ask you in the name of the god we serve!”

“She may have done so, holy father,” answered the gate-keeper in much alarm. “I have a sick child, and to look after him I went into my room several times; but only for a few minutes at a time-still, the gate stands open, all is quiet in Memphis now.”

“You have done very wrong,” said Asclepiodorus severely, “but since you have told the truth you may go unpunished. We have learned enough. All you gate-keepers now listen to me. Every gate of the temple must be carefully shut, and no one—not even a pilgrim nor any dignitary from Memphis,