“Our God has given his answer,” said Jabez. “Accept it, men of Israel. What this Prince did he did by chance, not of design.”
They turned and went without a word, and after I had laid the offering, no mean one, in the appointed place, we followed them.
“It would seem that yours is no gentle god,” said the Prince to Kohath, when at length we were outside the temple.
“At least he is just, your Highness. Had it been otherwise, you who had violated his sanctuary, although by chance, would ere now be dead.”
“Then you hold, Priest, that Jahveh has power to slay us when he is angry?”
“Without a doubt, your Highness—as, if our Prophets speak truth, I think that Egypt will learn ere all be done,” he added grimly.
Seti looked at him and answered:
“It may be so, but all gods, or their priests, claim the power to torment and slay those who worship other gods. It is not only women who are jealous, Kohath, or so it seems. Yet I think that you do your god injustice, seeing that even if this strength is his, he proved more merciful than his worshippers who knew well that I only grasped the veil to save myself from falling. If ever I visit your temple again it shall be in the company of those who can match might against might, whether of the spirit or the sword. Farewell.”
So we reached the chariot, near to which stood Jabez, he who had saved us.
“Prince,” he whispered, glancing at the crowd who lingered not far away, silent and glowering, “I pray you leave this land swiftly for here your life is not safe. I know it was by chance, but you have defiled the sanctuary and seen that upon which eyes may not look save those of the highest priests, an offence no Israelite can forgive.”