In Thebes a religious drama was enacted annually, a drama in which was portrayed the eternal conflict waged between Amen, the sun-god, and Apep, Prince of Darkness.

Unknown to the peasant, as indeed to many a priestly participant, the story of the drama, in truth, perpetuated the prehistoric invasion of Egypt by those “Followers of Horus” who had subdued, and, eventually, become absorbed by the original inhabitants of the Nile Valley.

At that early date, Thebes had been but a small village, a cluster of mud huts and a small shrine, over whose walls rose the emblem of the primitive cult.

Since that time, three thousand years had come and gone, and Thebes had become the richest and most powerful city of the ancient world.

Now, since Horus, son of Hathor, was the leader of the victorious invaders, and the two great battles had taken place at Nekhen and Abdu—Thebes being entirely outside the field of operations—the various incidents enacted in this great religious spectacle had nothing whatever to do with Thebes nor, indeed, with its famed local deity, the sun-god Amen.

But the priests of Amen’s great temple at Thebes had always looked with envy at the popularity of the yearly spectacle as enacted in the two rival cities. Thus, when finally a Theban prince became Pharaoh, the first care of the Chief Prophet of Amen had been to get the royal seal affixed to a permit looking toward the perpetual endowment of a similar festival in his own city of Thebes, a six days’ wonder that should utterly eclipse anything of which Nekhen, Abdu or any other rival god or city could boast.

In the drama as presented at Thebes, the son of Hathor became the sun-god Amen of Thebes. The “Followers of Horus” were personified by Theban priests, local notables and others.

As to the “Followers of Set,” the enemies in the drama, such miscreants were portrayed by unhappy foreign slaves, criminals and the like, many of whom were sacrificed before the altar of the sun-god, following the conclusion of the customary mimic battle and mock attempt to carry off the holy statue of Amen.

The great Theban festival called for a full week of continued merrymaking. Military tournaments were instituted, athletic contests took place; boat races were a daily occurrence along the river front. In the palace magical contests were held, the wisdom of ancient sages was discussed, or great prophets of the day were brought before Pharaoh’s throne.

In the latter case Pharaoh heard, at first hand, of the marvelous deeds of magic under the ancestors of the Pyramid Age, or was admonished to give more thought to his oppressed and hungry people.

One stalwart hermit had had the temerity to prophesy the overthrow of Pharaoh and the coming of “a righteous king,” under whom Egypt would return to the blissful state of long ago, “before death was,” and mankind, both native and foreign, would become united in an international brotherhood which would make one the lands of men and the Blessed fields of Aaru, the abode of the gods!

The rash prophet was not handed to the strangler, but led courteously from the Presence. An order for a tomb, a fine limestone coffin, and a tomb-statue, followed him to his distant home. During the Feast of the Apts, one might speak one’s true mind, even before Majesty.

To-day, the day of “bringing in the god,” crowds jostled and pushed along every Theban lane and alley. Everyone sought the Avenue of Sphinxes, or the River Road. The latter route, which extended from the main pylon of the Temple to the Sacred Quay, was policed along its short extent by a double line of foreign spearmen.

The two-horse chariot of the chief of these mercenaries dashed madly up the well guarded course, turned and disappeared down the long Avenue of Sphinxes which led to the Southern Temple. The Chief would take one last survey of the flower-strewn route before the “Appearance of the sun-god” should commence.

The gold statue of Amen the Hidden One, would presently be taken from the Holy of Holies in the dim shrine of the Northern Apt, and escorted upstream on the Sacred Barge to the jeweled sanctuary of the Temple of the Southern Apt.

Before the open cedar doors of the temple Pharaoh himself might be seen upon his portable throne of gold and ivory, high above the shoulders of twenty-four priestly bearers. As usual, his tame lion stood upon the dais at its royal master’s side.

The grand procession now moved forward. It was headed by a priest, who solemnly burned incense in a long hawk-headed bronze censer. All about him musicians played and women-of-the-temple, women playing to the mystical harem of the god, sang the adorations to the sun-god. Two other groups marked time by clapping of hands and playing of ivory castanets.

Immediately in front of the king’s throne marched serried ranks of kilted Egyptian soldiers, singing as they went. Their raw-hide shields moved across their naked breasts in time with the music. At the close of each verse they lifted their short spears or axes above their heads and shouted a short but resounding: “Hai! Amen! Ya—hai! Amen!”

Soon the long lines of onlookers had taken up the refrain, and the limpid air of the Capital thrilled to the wild cries of “Hai! Amen! Ya—hai! Amen!” As the gold throne of the Monarch advanced, groups of White-robed nobles fell into line behind it.

Then followed a long line of women from the Temples of Amen, Mut and Khonsu, who marked the time of the hymn of praise by shaking golden sistra and rattling menats, short but thick necklaces of beryl, amethyst and carnelian beads. With much beating of drums and clicking of castanets a group of feathered negroes pressed close after the singers.

There followed another long line of soldiers, Egyptian, Asiatic, Nubian, Libyan, and, finally, a little group of Cretans, remarkable not so much for the breadth of their shoulders as for the slimness of their waists, “hornet waisted” they had been nicknamed by the Thebans. These latter were almost lost behind their enormous ox-hide shields.

Each group carried its own special type of weapon, since there were definite regiments of archers, axemen, spearmen and slingers, and each company was headed by its own device or standard bearer.

At last the heavy bronze doors of the Temple of Amen slowly opened and a seemingly unending line of white-robed priests issued from the deep shadows of the stupendous pylons.

High upon their gleaming shoulders rested portable barques containing the various sacred deities belonging to the various temples which were well-nigh hidden by the lofty enclosure walls. Certain priests offered incense to these gods, at intervals, along the whole extent of the route.

In the midst of one group might be seen a number of spirited bulls, with horns decorated in gold. Great yokes of flowers and sweet-smelling leaves were hung about their throats.

Trailing out behind these last followed a long line of priests carrying the standards of the gods, since the whole company of the Blessed Gods marched, unseen, in this great procession.

A renewed wave of cheering went up as the linen-draped shrine of Amen appeared. A vacant place was kept clear behind it, in which marched the “souls” of dead kings! Thirty-six tall priests carried this Holy of Holies towards a gleaming barge, moored to the water’s edge at the Sacred Quay. Over two hundred feet long, this barge was built throughout its entire extent of cedar from the Lebanus Terraces. Its sides were covered to the water’s edge with pure Nubian gold. Enormous necklaces of gold were hung at prow and stern. The “Two eyes of Horus,” at the prow, were inlaid in brilliant blue lazuli from Babylon. The great checkered linen sail, which lay furled upon the silver deck, was of the square Egyptian type. It was decorated with squares of red and blue embroidery.

There was now as much noise and excitement on the river as on shore. The captains of fifty great painted barges awaited the signal to pull up their mooring-stakes as soon as the Sacred Barge should be well under way. Were it possible, the startled air trembled to still louder shouts as excited overseers, taskmasters and men commenced to pull at the great towing ropes. The swift Nile current made it necessary that the barge be dragged upstream by a whole army of young and lusty Egyptians.

Along the line of route people began to disappear from the gayly decorated windows. The last scene of the day’s ceremony was about to take place within the still unfinished forecourt of the Southern Temple of Amen.

Carrying-chairs were frantically demanded, but soon abandoned, as who could make headway in that fashion in the midst of such a crowd? A few fortunate people managed to squeeze through the broad square lined with its rows of booths, where slaves were hastily preparing wine, fruit, flowers and incense or cutting up the unfortunate bulls as part of the “beautiful festival of the Apt.”

Pharaoh offered incense to his father Amen as four exalted members of the priesthood poured out wine from festooned jars of painted pottery. With the exception of these four noblemen, high initiates of the Sorcerers of Amen and Huy, the Great High Priest, no one could witness the taking of the image of Amen from its jeweled shrine and its transference to the silver tabernacle within the granite naos which stood, beside “the position which the king takes,” deep within the gloom of the upper temple.

Pharaoh himself, though the personification of Amen, dare not venture beyond that fixed “position,” a spot marked by a huge block of turquoise from the Sinaitic mines, set in the richly painted wall of the upper temple.

Around the great forecourt, the nobles knelt or stood, according as they belonged to the two rival factions of Amen or Aton.

To the latter group, this marked what was no doubt the very last procession of its kind. Hence these adherents of Aton, the Syrian God, stood stiffly in the background. A covert smile might have been noted on many a swarthy face among them.

Pharaoh’s expression was one of cold indifference.

Throughout the whole scene the apathetic monarch seemed not to be conscious of where he was or of what he was doing. It is true, he successfully finished each and every detail of the exacting ritual of Amen. But, what he did, he did mechanically.

The last mock-reverence finished, Pharaoh retired.

As his throne was borne swiftly toward the royal barge, his mask of impassibility vanished. He sank back and allowed his gaze to travel from one side to the other. There was an air of expectancy in each turn of his head. He even went so far as to bow to the acclamations of his people, and this not a little to their bewilderment, since Pharaohs, in public, were customarily, at best, but breathing statues.

Scarcely had the king set foot upon the deck of his beautiful barge, “Star of the Gods,” when a frightful tumult broke out along the bank, immediately fronting the great barge of Amen. Wild shrieks from the women-of-the-temple, hoarse and angry cries from the men, intermingled with mocking laughter and shouts of derision.

A great crowd of angry priests of Amen might be seen pushing their way through the dense crowd which was massed in front of the giant statues of Thothmes, whose temple stood near by. Frantic attempts were being made by the priests of Amen to burst through this crowd. Yet each insistent attempt ended in failure, as did a last charge in one serried block.

The crowd itself was by now so divided into factions that blows were falling right and left, and hapless people were constantly being trampled under foot.

Shrieking: “Sacrilege! Sacrilege!” the priests turned and rushed headlong to their boats.

The Holy figure of the Hidden One, the sacred Statue of Amen, the sun-god, had disappeared.

The followers of Aton had scored their first success, and that success one of tremendous import!