Every day in the temples of Kam, two hours after sunrise and in the evening, those who are sufficiently experienced, although not yet initiate priests, wait in the room of peace beside the sanctuaries; and to them come any in the land who seek wise counsel for the guiding of their hearts. If a counsellor finds that the burden brought to him is too heavy to lighten unaided, then does he pass it on to one of greater wisdom.
In villages where there is no temple, always is there a priest to whom the people can take their troubles, so that there is no one in Kam who need be without a wise friend and counsellor.
When I was nineteen Ney-sey-ra adjudged that I was ready to become a counsellor of the Temple of Atet. In this work I learnt much that was of great value to me, for because of my office, the people showed me their hearts and told me of their troubles, with nothing added and with nothing unrevealed.
On the first morning, there came to me a man who wept and said that he was afflicted of the Gods. After much questioning, I found that he was a fruit-seller in the market, and that he had dealt dishonestly with many people, selling them baskets of fruit that was about to spoil. He said that an old woman had put a curse upon him for defrauding her; and every night when he slept, rotten figs rained down upon him, and, weighted with their sodden pulp, he awoke screaming out that he was being stifled. He regretted that he had done wrong, and he asked me to remove the curse and to forgive him.
And I said to him, “The curse was put on you because of your dishonesty. A priest cannot adjust the Scales of Tahuti. Only you can adjust a wrong that you have done. Secretly by night you must put baskets of fresh fruit before the doors of all whom you have defrauded. Then, when you have done this, you will find your dreams are calm again.”
Next there came a man who told me that sometimes his young wife looked at him with unfamiliar eyes and spoke to him in a tongue that was strange; and sometimes she lay writhing upon the floor. Afterwards she would forget that she had done these things, and he dared not tell her what she had done, for fear of frightening her.
I thought that there might be some evil one trying to possess this woman’s body. So I took him to the room of Ney-sey-ra, who told the man to bring his wife to him and he would armour her against attack.
When I got back to the sanctuary, I found a little boy waiting for me. At first he was shy, but soon he was talking to me as if we were children together.
He said, “I’ve been to the Sanctuary of Ptah and prayed to him, but I thought I’d like to tell you about it as well, in case he didn’t hear me. You see, I’m not quite sure if it’s the sort of thing he likes being bothered about.”
I told him that Ptah always liked being bothered about things. And the little boy looked much happier, and went on, “My father is dead and my mother is a linen-weaver, and we live with my uncle. I’ve got a pet rat, she’s very beautiful and she’s called Tee-tee, and I love her; but I have to keep her hidden in a box behind the kindling wood, except when I’m out and then I always take her with me. And now she’s ill, and I daren’t tell my uncle because he hates rats and kills them and nails them up to a tree by their tails to frighten other rats away. And I asked Ptah to make Tee-tee well again. Do you think he’ll mind?”
And I told the little boy to bring Tee-tee to the temple and that one of Ptah’s own servants would heal her.
That evening the little boy returned, and he brought with him some flowers he had picked in the fields as a present to Ptah. And he told me that he hadn’t needed to bring Tee-tee with him, because Ptah had answered him so quickly that, when he got home, not only was Tee-tee well again, but she had six tiny baby rats with her in her box.