"Rather command me, holiness, to seek pearls in the Nile, for I shall perish at once, and my lord will not suspect me of ill-will toward him. But to find such a sum today!"
Ramses XIII was astounded.
"How is this?" inquired he. "Then have the Phoenicians no money for me?"
"Our blood, our lives, our children we will give thee, holiness. But money where can we find it?
"Formerly the temples gave us loans at fifteen or twenty per cent yearly, but since, as heir to the throne, Thou wert in the temple of Hator at Pi-Bast the priests have refused us every credit.
"If they could they would expel us from Egypt, or, more gladly, they would destroy us. Ah, what we suffer because of them. The earth-tillers do what they like and whenever they like. As rent they give us what drops from their noses. If we strike one of them they rebel to the last man, and if an unfortunate Phoenician goes for redress to a court he either loses his case or pays terribly.
"Our hours in this land are numbered," wailed Dagon.
The pharaoh frowned.
"I will take up these matters," answered he, "and the courts will give thee justice. Meanwhile, I need about five thousand talents."
"Where shall we get them, O lord?" groaned out Dagon. "Find us purchasers, holiness, and we will sell all our property movable and immovable, only to carry out thy commands. But where are the purchasers? There are none except the priests, who would value our property at a trifle, and then not pay ready money."