gainst
the Gods.

The Mohar had chosen his road, and he never turned back when once he had
begun a journey.

CHAPTER IX.

It was noon: the rays of the sun found no way into the narrow shady
streets of the city of Thebes, but they blazed with scorching heat on
the broad dyke-road which led to the king's castle, and which at this
hour was usually almost deserted.

To-day it was thronged with foot-passengers and chariots, with riders
and litter-bearers.

Here and there negroes poured water on the road out of skins, but the
dust was so deep, that, in spite of this, it shrouded the streets and
the passengers in a dry cloud, which extended not only over the city,
but down to the harbor where the boats of the inhabitants of the
Necropolis landed their freight.

The city of the Pharaohs was in unwonted agitation, for the storm-swift
breath of rumor had spread some news which excited both alarm and hope
in the huts of the poor as well as in the palaces of the great.

In the early morning three mounted messengers had arrived from the
king's camp with heavy letter-bags, and had dismounted at the Regent's
palace.

[The Egyptians were great letter-writers, and many of their letters
have come down to us, they also had established postmen, and had a
word for them in their language "fai chat."]

As after a long drought the inhabitants of a village gaze up at the
black thunder-cloud that gathers above their heads promising the
refreshing rain--but that may also send the kindling lightning-flash or
the destroying hail-storm--so the hopes and the fears of the citizens
were centred on the news which came but rarely and at irregular
intervals from the scene of war; for there was scarcely a house in
the huge city which had not sent a father, a son, or a relative to the
fighting hosts of the king in the distant northeast.

And though the couriers from the camp were much oftener the heralds of
tears than of joy; though the written rolls which they brought told more
often of death and wounds than of promotion, royal favors, and conquered
spoil, yet they were expected with soul-felt longing and received with
shouts of joy.

Great and small hurried after their arrival to the Regent's palace, and
the scribes--who distributed the letters and read the news which was
intended for public communication, and the lists of those who had fallen
or perished--were closely besieged with enquirers.

Man has nothing harder to end