re prisoners
in the hands of a hostile mob. Roughly they were dragged to the capital
of the island, which happened to be but a few miles distant, and with
ignominy they were hustled, wet and bedraggled, through the streets
towards the palace of Hetebe, the Queen of Cyprus.

As they neared the building the queen herself passed by, surrounded by a
brave company of nobles and soldiers. Wenamon burst away from his
captors, and bowed himself before the royal lady, crying as he did so,
"Surely there is somebody amongst this company who understands
Egyptian." One of the nobles, to Wenamon's joy, replied, "Yes, I
understand it."

"Say to my mistress," cried the tattered envoy, "that I have heard even
in far-off Thebes, the abode of Amon, that in every city injustice is
done, but that justice obtains in the land of Cyprus. Yet see, injustice
is done here also this day."

This was repeated to the queen, who replied, "Indeed!--what is this that
you say?"

Through the interpreter Wenamon then addressed himself to Hetebe. "If
the sea raged," he said, "and the wind drove me to the land where I now
am, will you let these people take advantage of it to murder me, I who
am an envoy of Amon? I am one for whom they will seek unceasingly. And
as for these sailors of the prince of Byblos, whom they also wish to
kill, their lord will undoubtedly capture ten crews of yours, and will
slay every man of them in revenge."

This seems to have impressed the queen, for she ordered the mob to stand
on one side, and to Wenamon she said, "Pass the night ..."

Here the torn writing comes to an abrupt end, and the remainder of
Wenamon's adventures are for ever lost amidst the dust of El Hibeh. One
may suppose that Hetebe took the Egyptian under her protection, and that
ultimately he arrived once more in Egypt, whither Zakar-Baal had perhaps
already sent the timber. Returning to his native town, it seems that
Wenamon wrote his report, which for some reason or other was never
despatched to the High Priest. Perhaps the envoy was himself sent for,
and thus his report was rendered useless; or perhaps our text is one of
several copies.

There can be no question that he was a writer of great power, and this
tale of his adventures must be regarded as one of the jewels of the
ancient Egyptian language. The brief description of the Prince of
Byblos, seated with his back to the window, while the waves beat against
the wall below, brings vividly before one