Then the parchment was handed over by one of the judges to the relatives of the deceased, who, as silently as they had come, retired, bearing their dead away with them. The laws of Kamt had granted them leave to perform the last and solemn rites of embalming the body of their kinsman, and making the body a fitting habitation for the soul until such time as it should return once more upon earth from the land of shadows.
And the herald again called thrice upon a name, and again the dead was arraigned before the living, his virtues extolled by his friends, his sins magnified by his enemies; but in this case he was deemed unworthy of embalming; the soul should find no more that dwelling-place which had been the abode of cruelty and of fraud, of lying and of cheating, and it should be left to wander homeless in the dark shadows of death till it had sunk, a lifeless atom, merged in the immeasurable depths of Nu, the liquid chaos which is annihilation. The wailing of the relatives of this condemned corpse was truly pitiable: the law had decreed upon the evil-doer the sentence of eternal death.
Two more cases were dealt with in the same way. Mr. Tankerville had often in his picturesque way related to us this judgment of the dead practised in ancient Egypt, and I remember once having seen a picture representing the circular hall, the judges and the accused; but, as in everything else in this wonderful land, how infinitely more mystic, more poetic was the reality than the imagining. The hour of the night, the crescent moon above, the silent and solemn corpse, the most dignified in still majesty amidst all those who dared to judge him, all this made a picture which has remained one of the most vivid, the most cherished, in my mind.
Then came the turn of the living.
Once more the herald called a name—a woman’s—three times:
“Kesh-ta! Kesh-ta! Kesh-ta!” and thrice the cry resounded:
“Is she there? Is she there? Is she there?”
But this time there were no reassuring words about mercy and fearlessness. The living evidently were more harshly dealt with in Kamt than the dead.
Pushed and jostled by a couple of men, her hands tied behind her back, a rope round her neck, a woman suddenly appeared in the circle of light. Her eyes roamed wildly round, half-defiant, half-terrified; her hair hung tangled over her shoulders, and the whole of one side of her face was one ugly gaping wound.
“Who and what art thou?” demanded the judges.
The woman did not reply. She looked to me half a maniac, and wholly irresponsible; but the men behind her prodded her with their spears, till she fell upon her knees. Hugh had frowned, his own special ugly frown. I could see that he would not stand this sort of thing very long, and I held myself ready to restrain him, if I could, from doing anything rash, or to lend him a helping hand if he refused to be restrained.
Suddenly his attention and mine was arrested by a name, and wondering, we listened, spell-bound by its strange and unaccountable magic.
The judges had peremptorily repeated:
“Answer! Who and what art thou?”
“I am Kesh-ta,” replied the woman, with surly defiance, “and I am a slave of Princess Neit-akrit.”
“Why art thou here?”
“Because I hate her,” she half hissed, half shouted, as she turned her ghastly wounded face to the moonlight, as if to bear witness to the evil passion in her heart.
“Take care, woman,” warned the judges, “lest thy sacrilegious tongue bring upon thee judgment more terrible than thou hast hitherto deserved.”
She laughed a strange, weird, maniacal laugh, and said:
“That cannot be, oh, learned and wisest of the judges of Kamt. Dost think perchance that thy mind can conceive or thy cruelty devise a more horrible punishment than that which I endured yesterday, when my avenging hands tried to reach her evil form and failed, for want of strength and power?”
“Be silent! and hear from the lips of thy accusers the history of the heinous sin which thou didst commit yesterday, and for which the high priest of Ra will anon deliver judgment upon thee.”
“Nay! I will not be silent, and I will not hear! I will tell thee and the holy Pharaoh, and him who has come from heaven to live amongst the people of Kamt, I will tell them all of my sin. Let them hate and loathe me, let them punish me if they will; the Pharaoh is mighty and the gods are great, but all the powers of heaven and the might of the throne cannot inflict more suffering on Kesh-ta than she has already endured.”
“Be silent!” again thundered the judges; and at a sign from them the two men quickly wound a cloth round the unfortunate woman’s mouth and a few yards of rope round her body. Thus forcibly silent, pinioned and helpless, she knelt there before her judges, defiant and, I thought, crazy, while her accuser began slowly to read the indictment.
“Kesh-ta, the low-born slave, who has neither father nor mother, nor brother nor sister, for she is the property of the most pure and great, the Princess Neit-akrit of the house of Memmoun-ra.
“The gods gave her a son, who through the kindness of the noble princess became versed in many arts, and being a skilled craftsman was much esteemed by the great Neit-akrit, of the house of Memmoun-ra.
“Yesterday, whilst Sem-no-tha knelt before the great princess, whilst she deigned to speak to her slave, Kesh-ta, his mother, crept close behind him, and slew her son with her own hand before the eyes of Neit-akrit, the young and pure princess, and then with the blood of the abject slave his murderess smeared the garments of Neit-akrit, causing her to turn sick and faint with loathing.
“Therefore I, the public accuser, do hereby demand, in the name of the people of Kamt, both freeborn and slave, that this woman, for this grievous sin she committed, be for ever cast out from the boundaries of the land; that her body be given as a prey to the carrion that dwell in the wilderness of the valley of death, so that the jackals and the vultures might consume the very soul which, abject and base, had conceived so loathsome a crime.”
There was dead silence after this; I could see Hugh, with clenched hands and lips tightly set, ready at any cost to prevent the terrible and awful deed, the consequences of which we had already witnessed in the lonely desert beyond the gates of Kamt. The Pharaoh had turned positively livid; amidst his white draperies he looked more ghostlike and dead than the corpses which had just now stood before us; Khefaran’s face was still impassive.
Then the judges said solemnly:
“Take the gag off the woman’s mouth; it is her turn to speak now.”
I heaved a sigh of relief. There was a great sense of fairness in this proceeding, which, for the moment, relieved the tension on my overwrought nerves. I saw that Hugh, too, was prepared to wait and listen to what the woman would have to say.
The gag had been removed, and yet Kesh-ta did not speak; it seemed as if she had ceased to be conscious of her surroundings.
“Woman, thou hast heard the accusation pronounced against thee: what hast thou to say?”
She looked at the judges, and at the crowd of men, on whose faces she could see nothing but loathing and horror, then suddenly her wild and wandering gaze rested upon Hugh, and with a loud shriek she wrenched her arms from out her bonds, and stretched them towards him, crying:
“Thou, beloved of the gods, hear me! I ask for no pardon, no mercy! Remember death, however horrible, is life to me; the arid wilderness, wherein the gods do not dwell, where bones of evil-doers lie rotting beneath the sun, will be to me an abode of bliss, for inaccessible mountains will lie between me and her. There, before grim and slowly-creeping death overtakes me, I shall have time to rejoice that I, with my own hands, saved Sem-no-tha, my son, my beloved, from the same terrible doom. He was a slave, abject at her feet, but he was tall and handsome, and she smiled on him. And dost know what happens when Neit-akrit smiles upon a man, be he freeborn or be he slave? He loses his senses, he becomes intoxicated, a coward and a perjurer, and his reason goeth forth—a vagabond—out of his body. Hast heard of Amen-het, the architect, oh, beloved of the gods? hast heard that for a smile from her he perjured himself and committed such dire sacrilege that Osiris himself veiled his countenance for one whole day because of it, until Amen-het was cast out of Kamt, to perish slowly and miserably body and soul. And I saw Sem-no-tha at the feet of Neit-akrit! I saw her smile on him, and knew that he was doomed; knew that to see her smile again he would lie and he would cheat, would sell his soul for her and die an eternal death, and I, his mother, who loved him above all, who had but him in all the world, preferred to see him dead at my feet, than damned before the judgment-seat of the Most High!
“Ay! I am guilty of murder,” she continued more excitedly than ever, “I have nothing to say! I slew Sem-no-tha, the slave of Neit-akrit!—Her property!—Not mine!—I am only his mother—and am too old, too weary to smile! Beloved of the gods, they did not tell thee all my sins; they did not tell thee that when I saw Sem-no-tha lying dead at my feet, and Neit-akrit kneeling by his side, while a tear of pity for her handsome slave fell upon his white and rigid form, that with the knife still warm with his blood, I tried to mar for ever the beauty of her face. I had no wish to kill her, only to make upon that ivory white flesh a hideous scar that would make her smile seem like the grimace of death. But Fano-tu stopped my arm ready to strike, and to punish me he, with his own hand, made upon my face this gaping wound, such as I had longed to make on that of Neit-akrit. You may condemn me—nay, you must cast me out of Kamt, for if you do not I tell you that were you to bury me beneath the tallest pyramid the proud Pharaohs have built for themselves, and set the entire population of Kamt to guard it and me, I yet would creep out and find my way to her, and I tell you Kesh-ta would not fail twice.”
Exhausted, she sank back, half fainting, on the ground, while deathlike silence reigned around; one by one every member of the jury dropped his lotus flower before him, and the judges, having taken count, pronounced solemnly the word “Guilty!”
Then Ur-tasen rose and delivered judgment.
“Kesh-ta! Kesh-ta! Kesh-ta! thou art accursed! Thy crime is heinous before the gods! Thy very thoughts pollute the land of Kamt.
“Kesh-ta! Kesh-ta! Kesh-ta! thou art accursed. Be thy name for ever erased from the land that bare thee. May the memory of thee be cast out of the land, for thou art trebly accursed.
“Kesh-ta! Kesh-ta! Kesh-ta! thou are accursed! The gods decree that thou be cast out for ever beyond the gates of Kamt, into the valley of death, where dwell neither bird nor beast, where neither fruit nor tree doth grow, and where thy soul and body, rotting in the arid sand, shall become a prey for ever to the loathsome carrion of the desert.”
Kesh-ta’s answer to this terrible fiat was one loud and prolonged laugh. I felt almost paralysed with the horror of the scene. My mind persistently conjured up before me the vision of the lonely desert strewn with whitening bones, the vultures and screeching jackals, and the loathsome cannibal who once had been just such a living, breathing, picturesque man as these now before me. The woman’s crime was horrible, but she was human, and above all, she was a woman. Trouble seemed to have unhinged her mind, and the thought to me was loathsome that so irresponsible a being should suffer such appalling punishment.
Already Ur-tasen had handed up to the Pharaoh the document that confirmed the awful sentence, and the sick, almost dying, man prepared, with trembling hand, to give his royal assent to the monstrous deed, when, in a moment, Hugh was on his feet: he had shaken off the torpor, which, with grim horror, had also paralysed his nerves, and drawing his very tall British stature to its full height, he placed a restraining hand on that of the priest.
“Man!” he said in loud tones, which went echoing through the vastness of the building, “where is thy justice? Look at that woman whom thou hast just condemned to tortures so awful which not even thou, learned as thou art, canst possibly conceive.”
The judges and the jury had one and all risen from their seats and were staring awestruck at Hugh, who at this moment, tall and white amidst these dark sons of the black land, looked truly like some being of another world. The Pharaoh had, after the first moment of astonishment, quietly shrugged his shoulders, as if he cared little what the issue of this strange dispute might be between the stranger and the all-powerful high priest. Ur-tasen alone had preserved perfect composure and dignified solemnity. Quietly he folded his arms across his chest and said:
“I, who am vowed to the service of Ra, am placed here upon earth that I might enforce obedience to his laws.”
“Nay! not to the word, man, to the spirit,” rejoined Hugh. “Remember Ra’s decree transmitted to Mena, the founder of this great kingdom, through the mouth of Horus himself:—‘Be just, oh, man! but, above all, be merciful!’ ”
“Remember, too, oh, well-beloved of the gods, that same decree which sayeth:—‘Let no man shed the blood of man, in quarrel, revenge, or any other cause, for he who sheddeth the blood of man, his blood, too, shall be shed.’ ”
“But Kesh-ta is irresponsible, half deprived of her reason by sorrow and the terrible mutilation which the hand of an inhuman slave-driver inflicted upon her. To throw a human creature in such a state in the midst of an arid wilderness without food or drink, as a punishment for a crime which her hand committed, but not her mind, is barbarous, monstrous, cruel, unworthy the great people of Kamt.”
“Let no man shed the blood of man,” repeated the high priest, solemnly, “in quarrel, revenge, or any other cause. Hast mission, oh, beloved of Osiris, to upset the decrees of the gods?”
“Nay! I am here to follow the laws of the gods, as well as all the people of Kamt, but thou, oh, Pharaoh,” he added, turning to the sick man, “knowest what physical ailments are, knowest how terrible they are to bear. Think of the moments of the worst pain thou hast ever endured, and think of them magnified a thousandfold, and then thou wilt fall far short of the slow and lingering torture to which thou wouldst subject this half-crazed woman.”
“Let no man shed the blood of man,” repeated the high priest for the third time, with more solemnity and emphasis, for he noticed, just as I did, that Hugh’s powerful appeal, his picturesque—to them, mysterious—presence was strongly influencing the judges and the jury and all the spectators. One by one the pink lotus blossoms were lifted upwards, the judges whispered to one another, the men ceased to buffet and jostle the unfortunate woman.
“Oh, ye who are called upon to decide if a criminal be guilty or not,” adjured Ur-tasen, stretching his long gaunt arms towards the multitude, “pause, before you allow cowardly sentiment to mar your justice and your righteousness. Who is there among you here who hath not seen our beautiful Princess Neit-akrit? Who hath not gazed with love and reverence upon the young and exquisite face which Isis herself hath given her? And who is there among you who, remembering her beauty, doth not shudder with infinite loathing at the thought of that face disfigured by the sacrilegious hand of a low-born slave, of those eyes rendered sightless, of the young lips stilled by death? Oh, well-beloved of Osiris,” he added, turning again towards Hugh, “from the foot of the throne of the gods perchance thou didst not perceive how exquisitely fair is this greatest of the daughters of Kamt whom thy presence hath deprived of a throne. Is not thy godlike sire, whose emissary thou art, satisfied? And in addition to wrenching the double crown of Kamt from her queenly brow, wouldst take her life, her smile, her sweetness, too?”
Ur-tasen, with wonderful cunning, had played a trump-card, and no doubt poor old Hugh was in a tight corner. His position towards the defrauded princess was at best a very ticklish one, and on the principle that the son of Ra could do no wrong, it was imperative that not the faintest suspicion should fasten on him that he bore any ill-will towards his future kinswoman. I wondered what Hugh would do. I knew my friend out and out, and there was that in his face which told me plainly that the unfortunate Kesh-ta would not be “cast out” from the gates of Kamt.
There must have been some subtle magic in the name of Neit-akrit, for Ur-tasen’s appeal had quickly and completely done its work. One by one the lotus blossoms had again been dropped, and the judges simultaneously repeated:
“Death! Death! Death!”
The wretched woman alone among those present seemed not to take the slightest interest in the proceedings. She crouched in a heap in the centre of the hall, and the moonlight showed us at fitful intervals her great, wild eyes, her quivering mouth, and the hideous wound made by the cruel hand of Fano-tu.
“Death be it then,” said Hugh, determinedly. “She has killed, and dreams yet to kill. Sinful and dangerous, let her be removed from Kamt, but by a quick and sudden act of justice, not by the slow tortures of inhuman revenge.”
“Let no man shed the blood of man,” once again repeated the high priest with obvious triumph, “in quarrel, revenge, or any other cause.”
These last words he emphasised with cutting directness, then he added:
“Thou sayest, oh, well-beloved of the gods, that thou dost honour the laws of thy sire; remember that he who sheddeth the blood of man, his blood, too, shall be shed.”
And placing the document once again before the Pharaoh, he said commandingly, though with outward humility:
“Wilt deign to place thy seal, oh, holy Pharaoh, on this decree which shall expel from out the gates of Kamt the murdering vermin that even now crawls at thy feet?”
But with characteristic impulsiveness, and before I could restrain him, Hugh had snatched the paper from out the high priest’s hand, and tearing it across he threw it on the ground and placed his foot upon it.
“Not while I stand on the black soil of Kamt,” he said quietly.
Breathless all had watched the stirring scene before them. Superstition, reverence, terror, all were depicted on the faces of the spectators. No one had dared to raise a voice or a finger, even when Hugh committed this daring act. The Pharaoh had turned, if possible, even more livid than before, and I could see a slight froth appearing at the corners of his mouth; he made no movement, however, and after a while took up his apes and began teasing them, laughing loudly and drily to himself. I fancied that he a little bit enjoyed Ur-tasen’s subtle position. The high priest still stood impassive, with folded arms, and repeated for the fourth time:
“The laws of Ra given unto Mena commandeth that he who sheds the blood of man, his blood, too, shall be shed. By no hand of man can the criminal’s blood be shed. The vultures of the wilderness, the hyenas and the jackals that dwell in the valley of death must shed the blood of the murderess, that the decrees of Ra and Osiris and Horus be implicity fulfilled.”
Then he turned to the Pharaoh and added:
“Is it thy will, oh, holy Pharaoh, that the laws prescribed by the gods follow their course, as they have done since five times a thousand years? Is it thy will that the base and low vermin which crawleth at thy feet be allowed to go free and fulfill her murderous promises, and be a living danger to thy illustrious kinswoman, whom it is the duty of all the rulers of Kamt to cherish and protect? Or dost thou decree that in accordance with the will of Ra, who alloweth no man to shed the blood of man, she shall be cast out for ever from the land of Kamt, and her sinful blood feed the carrion birds and beasts of the arid valley of death?”
The Pharaoh gave an indifferent shrug of the shoulders, as if the matter had ceased to concern him at all. This Ur-tasen interpreted as a royal assent, for he commanded:
“Take the woman away and bind her with ropes. Let twenty men stand round to guard her, lest she fulfil her impious threat. Let her neither sleep, nor eat, nor drink. To-morrow, at break of day, when the first rays of Osiris peep behind the hills, she shall be led forth through the mysterious precincts of the temple of Ra and cast out through the gates of Kamt for ever into the wilderness.”
“By all the gods of heaven, earth or hell,” said Hugh, very quietly, “I declare unto you that she shall not.”
And before I could stop him he had literally bounded forward, and slipping past the dumfounded judge and jury had reached the centre of the hall and was stooping over the prostrate woman.
It was a terrible moment, an eternity of awful suspense to me. I did not know what Hugh would do, dared not think of what any rashness on his part might perhaps entail.
“Touch her not, oh, beloved of the gods,” shouted Ur-tasen, warningly; “she has been judged and found guilty; her touch is pollution. The gods by my mouth have decreed her fate.”
“Her fate is beyond thy ken and thy decree, oh, man,” said Hugh, with proud solemnity, as once again his tall stature towered above them all, “and she now stands before a throne where all is mercy and there is no revenge.”
The men round had stooped and tried to lift the prostrate woman. She turned her face upwards to Hugh; the ashen shade over it was unmistakable; it was that of the dying, but in her eyes, as she looked at him, there came, as a last flicker of life, a spark of the deepest, the most touching, gratitude.
Then softly at first, but gradually more and more distinctly, the whisper was passed round:
“She is dead!”
And in the moonlight all of us there could see on the woman’s dress a fast-spreading, large stain of blood.
“He who sheddeth the blood of man,” came in thundering accents from the high priest, “his blood shall be shed. People of Kamt, who stand here before the face of Isis, I command ye to tell me whose hand spilt the blood of that woman.”
“Mine,” said Hugh, quietly, throwing his knife far from him, which fell, with weird and metallic jingle, upon the granite floor. “The hand of him whom Ra has sent among you all, the hand of him whom Osiris loveth, who has come to rule over you, bringing you a message from the foot of the throne of your god. Touch him, any of you, if you dare!”
Shuddering, awestruck, all gazed upon him, while I, blindly, impetuously, rushed to his side, to be near him, to ward off the blow which I felt convinced would fall upon his daring head, or share it with him if I were powerless to save. I don’t think that I ever admired him so much as I did then—I who had often seen him recoil with horror at thought of killing a beast, who understood the extraordinary, almost superhuman sacrifice it must have cost him, to free with his own hand this wretched woman from her awful doom.
But with all his enthusiasm, scientific visionary as he was, Hugh Tankerville knew human nature well, knew that, awestruck with their own superstition, they no more would have dared to touch him then than they would have desecrated one of their own gods. There was long and deathlike silence while Hugh stood before them all with hand raised upwards in a gesture of command and defiance; then, slowly, one by one, the judges and the jury and all the assembled multitude fell forward upon their faces and kissed the granite floor, while a low murmur went softly echoing through the pillars of the hall:
“Oh, envoy of Osiris! Beloved of the gods!”
Then I looked towards Ur-tasen and saw that the high priest, too, had knelt down like the others. Hugh had conquered for the moment, through the superstition of these strange people and the magic of his personality, but I dared not think of what the consequences of his daring act might be.
Without another word he beckoned to me to follow him, and together we went out of the judgment-hall of Men-ne-fer.
Hugh needed much of my skill when we got back to the palace that night and were rid of our attendants, safe in our own privacy. The strain must have been terrible for him to bear. His constitution was a veritable bundle of nerves; these had been strained almost to breaking, both in his fight with Ur-tasen and during the awful moment when, for the sake of a principle, he stained his hand with the blood of a fellow-creature.
As soon as we were alone I went up to him and grasped that hand with all the warmth and affection which my admiration for him commanded, and I felt strangely moved when, in response, I saw in his great dark eyes a soft look of tenderness and of gratitude. He knew I had understood him, and I think he was satisfied. Gently, as a sick child, he allowed me to attend to him; fortunately, through the many vicissitudes which ultimately brought us to this wondrous land, I had never discarded my small, compact, portable medicine-chest, and I soon found a remedy for the poor, tired-out aching nerves.
“There now, that’s better, isn’t it, Girlie?” I said when he was at last lying, quietly and comfortably, on the couch, and there was less unnatural brilliancy in his eyes.
“You are awfully good to me, Mark, old chap,” he said. “I am ashamed to have broken down so completely. You will think that I deserve more than ever my old schoolboy nickname.”
“Yes! Sawnie Girlie you are,” I said with a laugh, “and Sawnie Girlie you have ever proved yourself—particularly lately. But now I forbid you to talk—most emphatically—and command you to go to sleep. I will not have you ill, remember. Where should I be without you?”
“Oh, I shall be all right. Don’t worry about me, old chap, and I assure you that I have every intention of going to sleep, particularly if you will do ditto. But, Mark, is it not strange how the mysterious personality of Neit-akrit seems to haunt every corner of this land?”
“That old Ur-tasen seems to me, somehow, to play a double game, and I am positively shocked at so old and venerable a personage getting so enthusiastic over the beauty of a girl young enough to be his granddaughter. I call him a regular old rip.”
“She certainly seems to have the power to arouse what is basest in every woman, be she queen like my bride, or slave like poor Kesh-ta, to make fools of men and cowards of the Pharaoh and his priest.”
“I think that after all your queen may have had the best idea: a woman who has so much power is best put out of harm’s way. There are no nunneries in this pagan land, but you had best accede to Queen Maat-kha’s wish, and command Princess Neit-akrit to become the priestess of some god.”
“Then she would set to work to demoralise all the priests,” said Hugh, with a laugh, “and finally upset the gravity of the high priest. I must find her a husband, Mark; the cares of maternity will sober her soon enough. I wish you would take her off my hands.”
The next day, at a solemn council, at which the Queen, Ur-tasen and ourselves were present, and which was held within the precincts of the temple of Ra, the high priest seemed entirely to have forgotten the events of the night. He greeted Hugh with solemn and dignified respect, and it was impossible to read on his parchment-like face what his thoughts were with regard to the beloved of the gods. I could not make up my mind whether he did or did not believe the story of Ra and of the soul of Khefren, and at times I would see his shrewd eyes fixed upon Hugh and myself with an expression I could not altogether define. Somehow I mistrusted him, in spite of the fact that his manner towards Hugh, throughout the council, was deferential and respectful, even to obsequiousness. Hugh, I could see, was on his guard and spoke little. Affairs of finance were mostly discussed. It evidently was Ur-tasen’s business to collect the reports of the governors and officials on matters agricultural, financial or religious, and to lay them before his sovereign. He seemed to be the “Bismarck” of this picturesque land, and to my mind it was unlikely that he meant to share the power which he had wielded for so long with any stranger, be he descended from the heavens above or not, and in the great trial of the unfortunate slave he had been publicly and absolutely discomfited.
At the same time, whatever might be the game he meant to play, he hid his cards well for the present, and neither made suggestion nor offered criticism, without referring both to Hugh.
Queen Maat-kha, attired in her sombre yet gorgeous black, looked more radiant and beautiful than ever. She made no effort to hide the deep and passionate love she felt for her future lord; she had probably heard of the episode of the night, but, if she had, Hugh’s daring action had but enhanced her pride in him.
Most of the day was again spent in visiting temples and public buildings, and in receiving various dignitaries of the city. The representatives of various crafts and trades came in turn to offer to the beloved of the gods some exquisite piece of their workmanship, or object of art, fashioned by their hands: goldsmiths’ and jewellers’ work, smiths’ or turners’ treasures, which, I felt, would one day adorn the cases of the British Museum, and the barbarous splendours of which were a veritable feast to the eye.
We did not see the sick Pharaoh throughout the whole of that day. Once or twice we caught sight of his rose-coloured litter, with its gorgeous crown of gold, being borne along among the acacia alleys of the park, and we heard his harsh, sarcastic laugh echoing down the alabaster corridors; but he took no notice of either Hugh or myself, and did not appear at either council or reception. The mighty Pharaoh was sick unto death, and men with shaven crowns, in long green robes—the representatives of the medical profession of Kamt—were alone admitted to his presence.
Late that night we sat at table in the vast supper-hall. At the head of it, on a raised daïs covered with heavy folds of rich black tissue, Queen Maat-kha sat, with Hugh by her side. I was at her right, and behind each of us a tall swarthy slave waved a gigantic ostrich feather fan of many colours, stirring the air gently over our heads. Through the massive alabaster columns there stretched out before us the bower of palms and acacias, among which the newly-risen moon threw dark and mysterious shadows. On the marble floor there stalked about majestic pink flamingoes, while around the columns fair musicians squatted, drawing forth from their quaint crescent-shaped harps sweet and monotonous tones. Only one lamp, low and dim, in which burned sweet-scented oil, illumined with fitful light the hall in which we sat, together with the vessels of gold and exquisite fruit which littered the table, while around us dainty maidens flitted, filling and refilling our goblets with aromatic wines from great stone jars, which they carried on their graceful heads: their smooth dark skins glittered at times like bits of old carved ivory. I confess that in the midst of this gorgeousness and plenty I was just thinking how delightful a good cigar would be, when, quite involuntarily—for I was gradually training myself to become a very efficient gooseberry—I caught a few words which Queen Maat-kha was whispering half audibly to Hugh.
“Art thou not happy then with me?”
Hugh whispered something in reply, which I did not catch, but which evidently was not altogether satisfactory, for she shook her head and said:
“Then why dost thou wish to go? I would fain pray the gods to bid time stand still and Osiris to cease his daily wanderings on the vault of heaven. I but long that day should follow day in this same sweet, unvarying monotony.”
“It is necessary that I should see my people, sweet,” said Hugh, “and necessary I should pay my humble respects to the Princess Neit-akrit, whom my presence has deprived of a throne.”
“Yes, I know. Ur-tasen has devised it. He nourishes in his heart a fond regret that he will not place the crown of Kamt on the head of Neit-akrit.”
“I think thou dost him wrong; he is devoted to thee and to thy house.”
“Because I load him with gifts,” she said drily, “and because he fears the gods, whose beloved thou art; but Neit-akrit is young; some call her fair… and…”
“Is she then so very fair, this mysterious Neit-akrit whom I have never seen, but who will be my kinswoman when thou art my wife? Tell me about her.”
I thought that this was a false move on Hugh’s part. It is never safe to express interest in one lady in the presence of another, and I was not surprised to see Queen Maat-kha’s eyes flash with anger, and—I thought—jealous suspicion.
“What can I tell thee,” she said indifferently, “save that some have called her fair?”
“Is she young?”
“She is little more than a child; her body is straight and angular; she has large eyes, but they are not dark, and her hair is of a peculiar colour. What can I tell thee of her?”
“Tell him that Neit-akrit is beautiful beyond what man born of woman can conceive,” suddenly said a harsh and sarcastic voice immediately behind us; “that her eyes are blue and mysterious as is the light of Isis, when she rises silent and solitary in the night, that her hair is like the rays with which Osiris bathes the heavens when he himself has sunk to rest. Tell him that her body is tall and lithe as the graceful papyrus grass which sways gently in the wind, and that her feet are white and transparent like the polished tusks of the young elephant. Tell him that her voice is sweeter than the song of birds or chorus of goddesses around Ra’s throne, and that her cheeks would shame the lotus blossom in their tints. Then, when thou hast described all this and more to him, who is beloved of the gods, tell him that, though his soul be descended direct from the foot of the throne of Ra, and his heart was fashioned by the hand of Osiris himself, he cannot kindle one spark of life in the heart and soul of beautiful Neit-akrit, but that he will see his own, bruised and chilled unto death, trampled beneath the ivory white feet of the most exquisite daughter of this fair land of Kamt, while the very apes in the trees of her palace will laugh to scorn his lost manhood and the gnawing pain in his heart.”
We had all turned towards the further end of the room, where stood the Pharaoh, supported on either side by two of his shorn physicians, his pale face emaciated by suffering, looking weirdly grotesque beneath the gigantic double crown of gold, studded with jewels, of Upper and Lower Kamt. Each side of him two torch-bearers stood, holding aloft a burning torch, the flickering light of which made his face appear strangely demoniacal in its expression of hatred and contempt, while with one long clawlike finger he pointed derisively at Hugh. It was the first time I had heard him speak, and his voice sounded strangely harsh and high-pitched. Suddenly he broke into loud and unnatural laughter.
“He! he! he! thou beloved of the gods! what exquisite torments await thee! for thou wilt love her, I tell thee, and she will laugh and mock thee! Didst thou not know that Isis gave her a stone when she was born, instead of a heart? Ay! my lady mother! thou dost right to dread that thy beloved leave thy side to behold the fairness of Neit-akrit. I shall not live a year and a day, saith thy High Chancellor; well! perhaps not! but I shall live long enough to see the beloved of the gods, the future king of Kamt, a weak and puling mortal rendered akin to the fools, and kicked at by the white feet of a woman. Thou desirest my crown, thou soul of Khefren?” now shrieked the unfortunate man, while he began to tremble from head to foot and tried to walk towards Hugh. “Thou wishest to wed a queen? and sit upon the throne of Kamt? I tell thee that before that time comes thou wilt lie with thy pale head in the dust of the valley of death, and pray that thy sacrilegious foot had never dared to step upon the pedestal of Ra, since thy presence deprived her of a throne! Here! take thou my crown! My head has ached long enough with the weight of it! Take it, I say! and may every jewel it contains burn into thy flesh and make thy martyrdom doubly hideous to bear, since it will make of thee, who art beloved of the gods, the abhorred and loathed usurper of the throne of Neit-akrit!”
He had with trembling hands torn the massive golden crown from off his head, and with a final shriek of execration and blasphemy hurled it at Hugh Tankerville’s feet, where it fell with a loud crash, while some of the rubies, loosened from their settings by the vigour of the shock, rolled about on the floor like glittering drops of blood.
But the effort had been too much for the enfeebled frame: the physicians, completely paralysed by the frenzy of their patient, seemed unable to support him, for with a wild cry the mighty Pharaoh fell forward, prostrate before the man on whom he had hurled his malediction.
Hugh had jumped up, fortunately in good time to break the fall of the unfortunate man, and his vigorous chest received the main shock of the inanimate body. Then, lightly, as if the great Pharaoh had been a feather, he lifted him from the ground, and giving me a wink, he carried him across the hall in his arms, commanding the astonished physicians and torch-bearers to lead the way. As I followed him, and helped to support the inanimate body, I looked back and, in the dim light of the lamp, caught sight of the face of Queen Maat-kha. It was as pale as death, and in her large eyes, which rested on the inert form of her son, there was a look of bitter hatred, coupled with an eager and terrible hope, which made me almost shudder.
Gently we conveyed the fainting man to his own apartments, and imperiously Hugh ordered physicians and attendants out of the room. They were far too frightened not to obey, and together we set to work to undress the great Pharaoh and to lay him on his couch.
“I think now is your chance, Mark, or never, to examine the poor man and see what he really suffers from,” said Hugh, when we had laid the bloodless, emaciated body on the gorgeous couch and rested the pale head on the rose silk cushion, which made the face appear more weird and livid than before.
“If those two bald idiots in yellow robes are a specimen of the medical profession in this highly-enlightened country, I, for one, must pray to be preserved from any ailment in which I cannot attend on myself,” I said, as I first of all endeavoured to administer such restoratives to the patient as I usually carried about me. I had examined the yellow, parchment-like skin, covered with pimples and blotches, the eyes circled with deep purple rings, the sunken temples and pinched nostrils, and, though I have no pretensions at vast experience in medical practice, yet I am an M.D. of London, and had done some creditable work at St. Mary’s, and I was not very long in coming to the conclusion what malady was undermining the very life of the young monarch.
“I should say he is suffering from advanced diabetes: though, of course, I cannot be sure till I have examined him more thoroughly. If my surmises are correct, then those shaven fools are doing their level best to kill him in the shortest possible period of time.” And I pointed to the fine wheaten bread, the fruit and sweet cakes, which lay on a tray ready to the invalid’s hand. “At the same time I think we should find it difficult to interfere with his medical entourage.”
“Do you think you can save him?” asked Hugh, eagerly.
“Save him? No! Only stay the rapid course of the malady, perhaps. I cannot tell offhand how far it has gone, and, of course, I cannot thrust myself into the case without consulting the physicians who have charge of it.”
“Does it not strike you, Mark, old chap,” interrupted Hugh, with a smile, “that your exposé of professional etiquette, as prescribed by the R. C. S., is a little out of place in this particular instance? Look here!” he added with his usual impulsive energy, “if your suppositions are correct, do you or do you not consider that this unfortunate man is being wrongly treated?”
“Yes! That I do most emphatically consider.”
“Very well, then! From this moment you must look after him, and those bald niggers have got to do as you tell them.”
“But…”
“There is no ‘but,’ Mark. We are not going to see this poor wretch die in agony, under our very eyes, if your skill can alleviate his sufferings. I appoint you my future son’s physician-extraordinary; this shall be the first act of my autocratic rule.”
“Hush!” I warned, “he is moving.”
I hurriedly whispered to Hugh to go, for I was afraid the sight of him would upset the patient.
“Send his own attendants in, old man; they can see to him for the present, till we have decided what is to be done.”
Shuffling and humble, the two yellow-robed personages obeyed Hugh’s orders to go and see to their illustrious patient. The Pharaoh was slowly recovering consciousness, and I thought it prudent to leave him alone with faces that were familiar and more welcome to him than mine.
I think we were both heartily sorry for the unfortunate youth, so helpless in the midst of all his pomp and glory, and I was only too ready to devote myself to him, if the thing was feasible.
“Will you mention it to the Queen to-night?” I suggested.
“Not to-night,” he replied, “but at the Cabinet Council to-morrow when Ur-tasen is present.”
When we returned to the dining-hall the Queen had retired with her attendants, and we were left alone for the remainder of the evening to stroll about under the acacia alleys of the park.
Neither of us felt like sleep. The night was peculiarly balmy and fragrant, even for this fair land where all flowers smelled doubly sweet, all bird song sounded more melodious than anywhere else in the world. There was only one flaw in this land of poetry and of art, but that was a serious flaw. The people did not grow tobacco, and on this beautiful evening, as we wandered aimlessly along the moonlit walks, we could not smoke a good cigar, and our delight did not reach supreme beatitude.
How far England seemed from us at that moment! London, Piccadilly, the Strand, hansom cabs—these were dreams, or rather nightmares I should say, for in these few brief days—so adaptable is the human creature—this gorgeous land, the shaven priests, the sickly Pharaoh, had somehow already become a part of our existence. I could no longer picture myself hailing an omnibus at Piccadilly Circus and getting out at Hammersmith Broadway; I could not think of myself sitting in a stall at His Majesty’s Theatre and watching one of Mr. Beerbohm Tree’s beautiful scenic productions. The individual who used to sit opposite Aunt Charlotte at the breakfast-table in Harley Street, reading the Daily Telegraph, was not I myself; he was a sort of spook who still haunted me now and again, but who had really nothing to do with me, the counsellor of Osiris’s son, the confidant of the beloved of the gods.
I cannot attempt to explain this psychological phase of my sojourn in the land of Kamt. I can but record it, and do so chiefly because I know that Hugh experienced the same sensation as I did, only in a much more intense form.
He walked and looked as if he had never done anything all his life but rule over strange and picturesque nations. He never found his robes uncomfortable, nor got entangled in the intricacies of the native tongue, and he met the great Pharaoh’s sarcastic chuckles, and the high priest’s hypocritical obsequiousness, with the same unruffled composure and truly regal dignity.
To-night, having dismissed our tiresome attendants, we gave ourselves over, heart and soul, to the beauty of the scene around us. To our right and left, in the dark shadows ghostly forms of birds or beasts fled frightened at our approach, and the white cows in the tall papyrus grass, disturbed by our tread, gave forth long and melancholy plaints, while overhead the crowd of monkeys in the branches of the acacia trees pelted us in wanton mischief with showers of white sweet-scented petals as we passed.
We had reached the edge of the canal and looked out across it on the majesty of the sleeping city, which, with its alabaster steps, its roofs of copper and of gold, its mammoth temples and gigantic carvings, looked more than ever like a city of dreamland. Beyond, far away, stretched the line of mystic hills which divided this habitation of beauty from the vast graveyard in the wilderness. One by one we saw the lights of the city flicker and die out: on the canal one or two belated boats flitted ghostlike and swift, crescent-shaped, with a burning lamp at prow and poop; the boatmen, as they dipped their oars into the water, sang their monotonous barcarolle, and beneath the gaily-striped awnings we could catch sight at times of young couples sitting with their dark heads close together—just the same as is customary in dear old England on the Thames. Soon the last light had gone out, the last boat flitted away in the distance, the dream city was at rest; only from the great temple of Ra came, faintly echoing, the sound of the midnight chant intoned by the blind priestesses of the god.
We had stretched ourselves out on the soft bed of velvety grass which sloped down to the water’s edge, terminating with a low white marble parapet, and had each become silent, wrapped in our own thoughts and watching the mystic reflections cast by the moon into the canal when, suddenly, from the opposite side, we saw a dark head appearing in the water and approaching swiftly towards us. We watched with much interest, and soon by the light of the moon saw that the head was that of a young girl, with long dark hair streaming in two thick plaits behind her in the water; the thin girlish arms struck with much vigour against the current, and very soon the edge of the parapet hid her from our view. Very much interested, I was about to jump up, to further watch the graceful evolutions of the midnight swimmer, when Hugh’s hand was placed upon my arm and a warning “Hush!” caused me to sit still.
Above the edge of the parapet, some fifty yards away from where we lay, the dark young head had appeared, and the same vigorous, yet slender, arms helped to hoist the girlish figure up onto the marble ledge. We hardly dared to breathe, wondering what was the purpose of this young and daring midnight prowler, as, for the space of a few seconds, she sat still, listening and peering into the shadows where we lay, silent and expectant, while the moon shone full upon her ivory-coloured skin, making the water on it glisten like a network of diamonds. One of her hands was tightly clutched, while with the other she wrapped more tightly round her the dripping and transparent folds of her white garment. After an instant’s hesitation she jumped off the parapet onto the grass, and the next moment was running swiftly and noiselessly towards us, shaking the water out of her hair as she ran, and holding a warning finger to her mouth.
“Hush-sh-sh!” she whispered as soon as she was close enough and we could hear. Then she stood still straight before us, beneath the brilliant light of the moon, like an exquisite piece of delicately-carved ivory. She was looking at Hugh out of her great almond-shaped eyes, with a strange mixture of awe and pity.
“Hush-sh-sh!” she said again, as once more warningly she placed a finger to her mouth. “They must not hear… and I can but stay a moment.… I have watched since three times Isis rose and illumined the night… to see if thou, oh, beloved of the gods, wouldst come, and wouldst come alone. For what I would say to thee none other must hear.”
Hugh had jumped to his feet, but she immediately drew back a step or two, and put out both her arms with a pretty gesture of pride and of warning.
“Nay! I am not worthy that thou, oh, beloved of the gods, shouldst step near to one so humble and poor as I. I have but a moment and the hours fly so fast.… See! Isis already turns towards the bed of clouds wherein she rests.… To-morrow, when Osiris is high in the heavens, thou wilt leave ancient Men-ne-fer, to shed the light of thy countenance on thy people who dwell far away. They will fall at thy feet and worship thee: for Ra and his high priest have said it: thou art the messenger and beloved of the gods. But lo! when once again Isis sheds her cold light on the waving papyrus and the crests of the tall sycamore, thou wilt look into a pair of eyes as blue, as impenetrable as the dark vault of heaven which cradles the goddess; thou wilt smell the perfume of tresses as golden as the rays of Osiris when he sinks to rest.”
As once more the strange and poetic simile struck our ears—for the second time to-night, and spoken by two such different pairs of lips—Hugh and I both involuntarily murmured:
“Neit-akrit!”
“Nay! do not breathe it!” she entreated, and for the first time a shiver, as that of cold, shook her young figure, “for her very name is so sweet-sounding to the ear that every bird song after it sounds harsh and out of tune: and yet to-morrow, at this selfsame hour, Isis will watch from above, and will hear thee whisper it in her ear, while eagerly thine eyes, which have seen the majesty of the gods, will gaze into those deep blue eyes, fringed by heavy lashes, and read therein her strength and thine own weakness, her glory and thine abasement.”
“I should be weak indeed,” said Hugh at last, with a slight laugh, “if after such repeated warnings, from so many different quarters, I succumbed to the charms of the fair princess. I thank thee, pretty one, for thy concern in my welfare, but it is ill-timed and ill-advised, and my future happiness is not worth that thou shouldst dip thy pretty shoulders and arms in the cold waters of the canal, at this late hour of the night.”
“Nay! I did not come to warn,” she said reproachfully, while her hands wandered absently over her body, as if wondering to find it wet, “it is for the gods to warn and protect their beloved. I saw thee in the temple of Ra, the day when thou didst descend from the foot of the throne of Osiris to dwell amongst the people of Kamt, and as I saw thee I found thee beautiful beyond all sons of men.… Hush! do not speak! It was no sin to find thee fair! I had come to weep in the temple, for Amen-het, whom I had loved, was lost to me for ever.”
I had already begun to think that the strange little person who had indulged in this rash swimming feat, in order to make pretty speeches to Hugh, was a little demented within that pretty, dripping head of hers. Her last words suggested to me that perhaps there was some cause for her strange frame of mind. She hid her face in her hands, and the drops, which escaped from between her fingers and trickled down upon her breasts, did not come from the waters of the canal. It was a very pathetic situation, and we did not quite know what to do. Here was a very pretty maiden, who had risked—to say the least—a very severe cold for the sake of speaking to us (or rather to Hugh, for as usual I was but a secondary personage). She was evidently in sad distress, and yet any attempt on our part at consolation by word or deed was promptly and coldly repelled. However, she soon looked up again, as if ashamed of her emotion, and spoke quickly and nervously.
“Wilt thou forgive me? I am weak, and Amen-het was very dear to me. We had loved one another from the days when my mother’s foot rocked both our cradles side by side. He was motherless and fatherless, but he knew that I would be all in all to him: mother and sister, and wife and friend. We were happy, for we loved one another. He was a skilful artisan and carved exquisite images in the temples of the gods, and already his fame had spread far and wide, from Men-ne-fer to Se-ven-neh, and thence to Tanis. Then the princess, she whom they call Neit-akrit, built herself a palace more gorgeous and beautiful than aught the people of Kamt had ever seen, and hearing of the fame of Amen-het she bade him come and carve beautiful sculptures on the terraces of her garden, and upon the steps of her palace.”
She paused, and in her eyes I saw that same look of deadly hatred which I had seen on the first day distorting the regal face of Maat-kha.
“Oh, beloved of the gods! thou does not know yet—how couldst thou? since thou art so fair—what it is to love and see thy love become a weariness to the beloved! Thou hast not craved for a look, a smile, a touch, and found nothing but an aching cold which chills the heart, and makes the brain dizzy with evil and jealous thoughts. Oh, Mother Isis! she has all that thou and the gods could give! She has beauty beyond the praise of song, she is great and rich above us all, while the land of Kamt lies prostrate at her feet. I had but him in all the world, but his love to me was more priceless than all the emeralds of Te-bu and all the rubies of Se-ven-neh, and yet, though Amen-het was humble and an artisan, she smiled on him and he forgot.”
We were strangely impressed by this simple yet pathetic little story—so old and yet ever new—which the dainty little ivory carving with the dripping, childlike shoulders was whispering to us in the moonlight. She told it all in the peculiar, monotonous, sing-song way which is the characteristic of these people, and we both listened, for we both felt that there was something more to come, something that would explain why this demure little maiden stood half naked before us in order to tell us her life’s tragedy.
“Didst thou know that she is proud? and in her pride she wished that the hall wherein she daily takes her perfumed bath should be illumined by a lamp exactly like in design to the one which lights the inner sanctuary of the temple of Ra at Men-ne-fer. And Neit-akrit smiled on Amen-het until he was ready to sin for a look from her blue eyes, and would willingly have died for the sake of feeling her tiny naked foot rest for one instant upon his neck. Then she told him of her wish. The lamp—could he copy it?—ay! he could, if he but saw it. But ’tis sacrilege to dare to lift the veil which hides the sanctuary of Ra from all but his priests. Then she frowned and would not smile, refused to look on him again, vowed a more devoted artisan would in future receive her commands. And he, poor weak fool, swore an oath that he would do her bidding. After that she smiled again and Amen-het went to Men-ne-fer, and at dead of night his sacrilegious foot trod the inner sanctuary of Ra, the all-creating god, in order to find a graceful design for a lamp for the bathroom of Princess Neit-akrit.”
Again she paused, then added slowly, while her voice almost choked in her throat:
“Scarce twenty days had passed before I saw thy holy presence in the temple of Ra, oh, beloved of the gods! and before the high priest told us that thou hadst been sent by Osiris to be our king and ruler, I had seen Amen-het, pinioned and blinded, led forth towards the gates which mortal eyes have never seen, and beyond which lies the mysterious valley of death, where dwell neither birds nor beasts, and from whence no man can return.”
She sank upon her knees, and her small round arms were raised upwards to the cold and silent moon, while we, with a shudder, looked at one another and remembered the awful tragedy we had witnessed, in the vast and silent immensities of the wilderness, where the weird maniac gloated over his loathsome meal, where a half-human, wholly bestial creature was all that remained of him who had once been Amen-het. Thank all the gods of ancient Egypt! the little maid who mourned her beloved dead had no conception of what he became before we finally laid him beneath a few handfuls of sand and shingle.
“Canst wonder,” she resumed, turning once more to Hugh, “that, seeing thee so fair, I have prayed to Isis that she may protect thee from the beauty of Neit-akrit’s eyes? And see! the goddess did hear me, for as I wandered out in my mother’s garden I found at the very root of the sacred poppy this precious treasure which I have brought for thee. It is a sacred scarabæus, and thou knowest that he who beholds it, when Isis’s face is turned towards the earth, and holds it tightly in the palm of his hand, sees no beauty save that of its exquisite body, sees naught that is blue save the iridescence of its wings. Then, when I had found it, I was happy. I waited, for I dared not approach thee while thy slaves were round thee, ready to drive me away; but to-night as I watched, again I saw thee and thy counsellor wander alone beneath the acacia trees, and I came across to lay my priceless offering in thy hands.”
Graceful and exquisitely chaste, she now came towards Hugh and held out to him, in the palm of her small hand, a beautiful iridescent beetle of many hues of blue and green and gold. She looked so innocent, so confiding and trustful, and withal so pathetic in her grief, that, without a smile, and quite gently, Hugh took the simple offering, and, as he did so, respectfully kissed the tips of her trembling fingers.
Before we had time to realise what had happened, before we could say anything, or even stir, the little maiden had with one bound reached the marble parapet. We heard a splash, and the slow rhythmic movement of her strong young arms in the water, and through it all a faint and warning “Hush-sh-sh!” still lingering like the echo of a sigh in the sweet-scented air.
Is there such a thing as instinct, prescience? call it what you will. Nay! I know not. In my student days I had often dissected the human brain and studied its component parts, and wondered which of the numerous cells of fibrous tissue contained that inward feeling which at times so plainly warns and foretells.
There was an instinct which told me that Neit-akrit, the beautiful and mysterious princess whom we, the usurpers, had deprived of the double crown of Kamt, was already a part of our very life. Her name haunted this place; it was whispered by the trees and murmured by the waters of the canal; it filled the air with its mystic and oppressive magnetism. Hugh felt it, I know. I think he is more impressionable than I am, and, of course, he is more enthusiastic, more inclined to poetry and visions. Even when wrapped in the most dry researches of science, he would clothe hard facts in picturesque guise.
To-night he talked a great deal of Neit-akrit. From a scientific point of view she interested him immensely, but, as a woman, she possessed no charm for him. No woman had ever done that. Above everything, he was a scientific enthusiast, and even in his own fair country he had never had so much as a schoolboy love. His friendship for me was, I think, his most tender emotion. He admired the picturesque, the poetic, above all, the mystic, and no woman, as yet, had embodied these three qualities in his eyes.
For the moment we discussed Neit-akrit as we would a coming foe. I refused to believe that a woman, young and fascinating, would without murmur or struggle resign her chances of a throne. Accustomed to rule by her beauty, she must love power, and surely would not resign herself patiently to a secondary position in the land.
We were looking forward to a preliminary battle on the morrow. Hugh was determined that the Pharaoh should be placed under my charge, and we both much wondered whether the arbitrary high priest would allow himself to give way to the stranger upon every point.
“My one hold upon these people,” argued Hugh, “is through their superstition. They look upon me as a being of another world, and any weakness would hopelessly endanger that position.”
“Every conflict with that powerful and arbitrary high priest might prove a fatal one, remember,” I warned.
“I know that; but the Pharaoh is dying for want of proper medical treatment. It would be a sheer physical impossibility to me to watch him dying by inches and not raise a finger to help him. Having raised a finger, if it must mean hand and arm as well, then we shall see who is the stronger—Ur-tasen or I.”
But whatever the feelings of the high-priest may have been, he knew the art of concealing them to the full. The next morning, at the Cabinet Council, he was deferential, nay, obsequious to Hugh, and hardly spoke, but stood humbly with his tall golden wand in his hand, and only gave advice when directly spoken to.
Then, when it was almost time to go, and I had begun to think that Hugh, on the whole, had thought it wiser to make no mention for the present of the Pharaoh’s sickness, the Queen suddenly said:
“My lord goes to-day to visit his future kinswoman, but the Pharaoh is sick, Ur-tasen; I know not if he will accompany us.”
“I think he will,” said the high priest, with a sarcastic smile. “He will surely wish to be present in order to see the happy greeting of his young cousin to the future ruler of Kamt.”
“He is too ill to bear the fatigue,” said Hugh, peremptorily.
“Too ill, I fear,” rejoined the high priest, drily, “to bear the long days of impatience waiting for thy home-coming, oh, beloved of the gods!”
“Ay! thou sayest truly, Ur-tasen; the holy Pharaoh is too ill to bear much, and my counsellor and I have consulted together, and together have decided that the hands which tend him are not sufficiently skilful to be entrusted with the care of so precious a life.”
“A life, however precious, is always in the hands of the gods,” retorted Ur-tasen. “None should know that better than thou, who hailest from the foot of their throne.”
The duel had fairly begun. Hugh was determined to keep his temper, in spite of the high priest’s obvious sarcasm and mock deference.
“The gods,” he said, “like to see such lives well looked after on this earth, and it will be my care in the future that wise counsels preside over the sick-bed of the Pharaoh.”
I thought that the high priest’s parchment-like face had become a shade or two more sallow than before; the Queen, too, looked pale, but it might have been from fright at Hugh’s audacity. She had been accustomed throughout her life to accept the dictates of the high priest of Ra as if they emanated from the gods themselves. Ur-tasen had raised his shorn head and, with slightly elevated eyebrows, was looking at Hugh.
“And how will the beloved of the gods ensure this laudable aim?” he asked with the same mock deference.
“By appointing my counsellor to be the Pharaoh’s physician and adviser; those who now fawn round him have no understanding of the terrible malady which is threatening to terminate his life, when he is yet scarcely out of boyhood. My counsellor is well versed in the science of drugs and herbs. He will advise the Pharaoh as to what he should eat and what he should avoid.”
“The Pharaoh, though scarcely yet out of boyhood, is not one so easily counselled, oh, Beloved of the gods! and those who have now gained his confidence were appointed to the high honour by the will of Ra himself.”
“As expressed by thy mouth, Ur-tasen, and though thy counsels may be wise in the administration of religion and the offering of sacrifice, I know not if they are worthy to be followed where a serious malady threatens the descendant of kings.”
“Such as they are they have been followed in this glorious land of Kamt, long before thy foot trod its soil, oh, beloved of the gods!” said the high priest, still trying to contain himself, though his voice shook with passion and his hand clutched the heavy wand of office till the sinews of his gaunt arms creaked with the effort.
“Yet, nevertheless, in this matter my counsel shall prevail,” said Hugh, with sublime calm, “and I solemnly declare that my counsellor here shall in future have constant access to the bedside of the Pharaoh, and that whatever he orders for the monarch’s welfare shall be blindly and implicitly obeyed.”
“And how dost thou propose to enforce this declaration, oh, beloved of the gods?” asked the priest, with a contemptuous smile.
“By ruthlessly crushing beneath my heel him who should dare to disobey my orders,” replied Hugh, slowly, as he rose from the litter and stood confronting the high priest in all the glory of his youth and his powerful personality.
Ur-tasen had turned positively livid. He had been accustomed throughout his life to dictate his will to Queen Maat-kha and to the country. His commands had probably never been gainsaid, but at this moment he too felt, I think, that the next few minutes would decide as to who—he or the stranger—was to be master in the land.
“Beware,” he said solemnly, his voice quaking with rage while he raised aloft the heavy wand of gold, emblem of his sacerdotal power, “lest thou thyself be crushed beneath the power against which thou hast dared to raise thy sacrilegious voice.”
But without a word Hugh turned and went up to the curtain which shut out the view of the city from the council chamber, and pushing it aside, he pointed to where, lining the temple steps, thousands of men and women waited—as they did every morning—to catch sight of him who, until a few days ago, had sat at the very foot of the throne of Osiris. Some of the younger men and women were lying on the ground so that his foot might tread upon their bodies. Hugh waited a moment quietly while Ur-tasen, who had followed him, was also looking out upon the populace. Suddenly in the crowd there was a shriek; some one had caught sight of Hugh, and the next moment all had knelt, turning their dark faces with awe and reverence towards him, while the women began to chant a hymn of praise as they would to a god.
Hugh waited quietly while the flood of enthusiasm