CHAPTER XXVIII.THE THREAT

“Rosemary for remembrance!”—we, in England, thousands of miles away, speak of the little plant as meaning remembrance; before me, in one moment, with those words, the gorgeousness of mystic Kamt had disappeared, and I saw its loveliest daughter filling the old Chestnuts with the radiance of her beauty, the melody of her voice. She became the incarnation of womanhood, of her who alone knows how to combine the tender friend, the wife, the mistress. There was dead silence in the temple. Neit-akrit had taken the bunch of rosemary and was fastening it to her posy, while Hugh watched her silently.

Then, suddenly, from the farther end of the sacred edifice, there where the great gateway faced directly towards the east, it seemed to me that a dull yet rosy light began to creep gently through.

“Neit-akrit,” said Hugh, after a long while, “if thou didst wish to give me that posy as an emblem of happiness, it was wrong to add remembrance to it.”

“Why?”

“Because since I have smelt that sprig of rosemary my memory has come back to me. Remembrance, like duty, is at times cold and cruel, and her figure now stands beside that gate and points towards the east.”

“Nay, not yet!” she pleaded; “ ’tis but the lights of the city of Tanis gone crazy with joy.”

“Remembrance whispers, Neit-akrit, that I have plighted my troth, and that if I stay beside thee and chase remembrance away, I break the pledge which I gave to another.”

“Nay! the heralds of dawn have not yet sounded the trumpets. Osiris is still well hidden behind the hills, and my nosegay is not ready. I have no tuberose, which means passion, and no white pansy, which means forgetfulness.”

“It is not in thy power, Neit-akrit, to put white pansy into thy bunch, and I…”

“And thou?”

“I would not put them there if I could.”

“Then, thou hast no wish to forget?”

“Rosemary, which is for remembrance, will be my most cherished flower. Give me that one, Neit-akrit, out of the bunch… touch it once with thy lips and then let the poor fool go his way.”

Ill, paralysed, numbed as I was, all my hopes tended towards the beautiful girl who alone could keep Hugh away from the terrible danger. I longed to give her courage to tell Hugh all, yet feared every moment that she would, and that he would not believe, that his loyalty to his bride should not allow him to listen to terrible accusations framed against her by another woman. The moments were precious; already through the distant gate the light of dawn grew stronger and more clear.

“Nay! what is the use?” she said, as she drew a step back from him; “thou dost seem to remember all that thou dost wish—thy duty, thy word; the white rosemary should not come from me.”

“Sweet Neit-akrit, thou art a child,” he said with almost rough earnestness. “Thou dost not understand—how couldst thou? I am a senseless fool.… Give me thy hands to kiss… place them both upon my mouth… for I dare not take them in mine… lest their touch should indeed make me forget…”

Quietly she pulled from out the canopy of flowers a bunch of white pansies, and stretching out both her hands up to him she murmured:

“White pansies for forgetfulness!”

He had fallen on his knees, and his arms encircled her dainty figure. She turned towards the statue of the goddess as if to beg of the cold, immovable image inspiration and perhaps strength. Ay! she needed all her woman’s wits; there were a hundred unseen enemies to fight, and one whom she feared more than any—the other woman to whom he had plighted his troth. I suppose she found it hard to say to him, “Beware, that woman has murdered her son; she even now has planned thy ruin.” Supposing his loyalty forbade him to listen! Her accusations to him might sound like the words of a woman mad with jealousy… and she thought that she could not prove them; she did not know I, too, had seen and heard, that I was here, close by, a caged and useless log, a dumb beast, while twenty priests—a hundred, if need be—were ready to swear that she lied.

And I was helpless—a caged, helpless, dumb creature—and the minutes were speeding so fast.

Suddenly from afar the sacred heralds of Osiris rang out upon their golden trumpets the announcement of the sun-god’s approach.

In a moment Hugh had sprung to his feet, but Neit-akrit now would not let him go; she clung to his garments, dragged at his cloak.

“Thou must not go,” she entreated. “The temple is dark and lonely—I am frightened; for pity’s sake do not leave me!”

“Nay, sweet! thou art safe enough here… for the love of heaven take thy dear hands from off my cloak!”

“Thou wilt not leave me?”

“I must go, sweet. Remember I have sworn! wouldst make a coward of me?… Nay! thou hast all but succeeded… be satisfied and let me go!”

She took her hands from off his cloak, but came up close to him and whispered:

“See! I do not hold thee, and yet thou wilt not go… thou art free! and yet thou wilt stay… thou hast smelt the perfume of the white pansy, and thou wilt forget all… save that thou dost love me.…”

“Neit-akrit!”

“Nay! thou dost entreat in vain.… Sweet, I would not have thee go! What is duty? what is the meaning of oath or pledge? Wouldst know why I came to-night?… I came because I knew that danger doth await thee outside this sacred temple.… I came because I knew that thou dost love me… and I trusted that that love would make thee forget the dawn, thy duty, thy pledged word, forget all, in order to remain beside Neit-akrit.”

“Forget? Ay! I have forgotten but too long already. Neit-akrit, thou speakest of danger; to me there is but one, and that is that I might forget all—my manhood, my honour, my pledge, my word, might forget thy innocence, and remember only that thou art fair.”

“But that is all I would have thee remember,” she whispered so softly that her voice hardly sounded above the murmur of the flower, which some stray current of air began gently to fan. “If I am fair it is because Isis hath made me so in order thatthoushouldst love me! I am young, and I have waited for thee all these years because, although I knew it not, I wished that my beauty should gladdenthineeyes. Nay! at first I longed for thy love out of sheer pride and revenge. Dost remember the iridescent scarabæus, which should have guarded thee from the peril of giving thy love to Neit-akrit? Sweet! ’twas I stole the scarabæus. I would not have thee turn coldly from me; thou hadst taken from me my crown and my throne; I wished to steal thy heart from thee, and then to break it in wanton cruelty, and I threw the charmed scarabæus into the lake.… Then thou didst speak to me… I looked into thine eyes… I knew thy soul was mine… but… I guessed even then, my sweet, that Isis had made me doubly fair, had placed radiance over my body and my soul, for that day I learnt… that I loved thee!”

“Neit-akrit, for pity’s sake,” he pleaded.

But her arms were round his neck, her sweet face quite close to his, her eyes looked ardently into his own.

“I love thee!” she whispered.

“Wouldst make me mad, Neit-akrit?”

“I love thee!”

And far, very far away, the sacred heralds of Osiris rang out upon their golden trumpets the announcement that the sun-god was emerging behind the hills of Kamt, which hid the valley of death.

“I love thee, oh thou who art beloved of all the gods!”

Hugh had clasped her in his arms, and as I closed my burning eyes and fell back fainting in my prison, I knew that he was safe, that Neit-akrit had succeeded in making him forget.

Shufflingfootsteps, muffled whispers and hard breathing were the first sounds which greeted my dulled senses when once again I woke from one of those strange and fitful sleeps in which the mysterious poison held me periodically enthralled.

Through the marble tracery brilliant daylight came peeping in, making the sanctuary lamps appear pale and ghost-like. My head felt less heavy, and my eyes were less painful. It seemed to me that the shuffling steps drew nearer, and as they approached the whispers ceased. I was still a prisoner, but my brain was fully alert, and soon I perceived that two forms, swathed in white, had paused a moment beside the gateway.

I made an earnest appeal to all my wits, and, holding my breath, crouching against the wall, I waited. Soon a refreshing current of outer air told me that the gateway had been opened, that if I kept my wits about me, my one chance of deliverance had come.

Like the flash of a sudden instinct, the thought came to me that perhaps some one was coming to see whether the deadly narcotic had thoroughly accomplished its work; or perhaps, after all, Hugh had fallen into the awful trap, and it mattered nothing if I were prisoner or free. With my mind filled with terrible doubts and presentiments, I yet had the strength to remain perfectly still: I guessed what I ought to look like, if indeed I were still under the influence of the drug, and crouching, with my head buried between my knees, I waited.

The shuffling footsteps came quite close to me, a cold bony hand forced my head back, then allowed it to fall again; a muffled voice murmured:

“Some more?”

“Ay! perhaps, for safety,” replied another.

This was the crucial moment. Weak as I was, another whiff of the poison would perhaps render me helpless for ever. I heard a click like the opening of a metal box, which then was placed on the floor close beside me. I had been a good diver and swimmer once. I could hold my breath for a good sixty seconds, and already the shuffling footsteps were hastily retreating from the poisoned atmosphere. I crawled upon the floor, flat as a serpent; I had need of my breath now—and the stupefying odour reached my nostrils in one terrible whiff. The white-robed figures were in the doorway: my deadly peril gave me one last flicker of strength: with a sudden movement I stretched out my hands, and caught hold of one of the sandalled feet before me: the priest tripped and measured his length upon the floor, at the very moment that I was trying the same schoolboy trick upon his companion. While, stunned and bruised, they sprawled upon the ground, and, frightened by the sudden shock, tried to struggle to their feet, I had crept past them out by the marble gateway. The fresh air from without put renewed strength into me, while my enemies were probably tasting the noisome odour with which they had sought to render my sleep an eternal one.

My knees shook under me and I felt hideously sick and stiff; but I struggled on from pillar to pillar, skirting the gigantic temple, which had never seemed so vast to me. I wished to reach the farther gateway, find Hugh if he was still there… if not… well! if he had gone, I would still find him, somehow, now that I was free.

The great gateway was open—exhausted I leaned against it: my legs would carry me no farther.

“Girlie!” I gasped.

He must have been standing quite close to the entrance, for he heard me, and the next moment had half dragged, half carried me within the temple and laid me down on the floor, with my head resting against his shoulder.

“Mark! in heaven’s name, what is the matter?”

“Nothing is the matter now,” I said, as audibly as I could, “now that I have found you and that you are safe.”

“What in the world do you mean? You can hardly talk! you are ill! Let me take you to the pavilion.… I can look after you there and you can try to tell me.…”

I shook my head vigorously.

“No, Girlie! the moments are precious.… I have been drugged, stupefied and caged up, so that I might not get to you, and tell you. Listen, Girlie…”

And as best I could, in jerky, half-choked sentences, I told him all. He listened without a word, then said quietly:

“Ur-tasen shall pay for this. She came, Mark… you knew it; saw her perhaps… she put her arms round me, and kept me a prisoner.… A little while ago she slipped away… and left me alone with my dream.”

“Ur-tasen will not rest content in the midst of failure,” I said. “Pray to God he does not play us some terribly cruel trick yet.”

“Dost speak words of wisdom to thy friend, oh! wisest of counsellors,” said a loud sarcastic voice close behind us, “or dost adjure him to pray to his God to watch protectingly over his head? Whatever else thou sayest, tell him one thing, in that language which comes from beyond the valley of death, and that is, that Ur-tasen will not rest content in the midst of a failure. In the language whichhespeaks there is no such word as fail.”

Hugh had jumped to his feet and confronted the high priest of Ra, who from some remote corner of the temple had crept noiselessly close to us.

“What dost thou mean? Why art thou here?” demanded Hugh. “Art bold indeed, Ur-tasen, that thou darest stand before me and my wrath.”

“Bold indeed, oh! son of Ra!” replied the high priest, making a mock obeisance. “Ur-tasen now hath no cause for fear… he is an old man, and thy hands are mighty and strong, and yet the old man, with one foot in the grave, hath struck a blow at thee which will crush thy life, and wither thy manhood, and throw thee, a weak and puling coward, at the foot of him whose power thou hast defied.”

“What dost thou mean? Speak! Thou hast not many moments of peace before thee, for I will make thee answer for thy treachery against my friend.”

“Ay, I am willing to bear the full brunt of thy wrath, oh! stranger who hailest from the foot of the throne of Osiris.… Thy counsellor hath no doubt told thee that I and Maat-kha did plot against thee. He says so, and thou dost believe.… I care not to deny; we failed, she and I… and whatever crime she hath committed she must atone for, according to the laws of the land. But thinkest thou perchance that Ur-tasen did rest content? didst think that a weak and passionate woman could throw herself across his plans? Fools were ye both! oh! thou who dost style thyself the son of Ra, and she… who once was called Princess of Kamt.”

“Name her not, thou infamous priest,” said Hugh, raising his hand, as if ready to strike the miscreant; “I forbid thee to speak her name!”

But Ur-tasen shrugged his shoulders, with a low sarcastic chuckle.

“Nay! I will not name her, since it rouses thine anger; but anon it will not only be I, but all Tanis who will shriek out her name in loathing and execration.”

I had struggled to my feet and was clinging with all my might to Hugh, for I could see that he could scarcely restrain himself from strangling the old man, then and there. But I felt that at any cost we ought to know what nefarious scheme he had concocted, and my heart filled with awful forebodings, I whispered to Hugh:

“Girlie!… for her sake… find out first what he means. Then I will help you to murder him, if you like.”

“Dost thy counsellor whisper prudent advice in thine ear, oh! beloved of the gods? Nay, then! do thou follow it. Thou wilt need to be calm… if thou canst. Thou hast played a losing game, oh! son of Ra, and now wilt find that it was not good to defy the might of the priests of Kamt. I could not destroy thee and thy fame, the evil power of Set protects thee; I know not, perhaps thy body is invulnerable… thou art strong, and the people love thee. A hundred priests are at my command, yet not one of them would dare to lay hands on thee. But thou hast a soul, oh! mighty son of Ra! a soul which I, thine enemy, have known how to torture, with a torture so exquisite that anon it will unman thee. Thy soul,” he added, with a loud triumphant laugh, which sounded weird and demoniacal, as it went echoing through the vastness of the temple, “thou didst give it to one who was beautiful and great, and praised above all. Dost know where she is now, oh! beloved of the gods? A prisoner in the hands of the priests of Isis, who seized her, even within the precincts of the temple of the goddess, while thy kisses were still warm upon her lips.”

“Thou liest,” hissed Hugh with smothered rage. And he raised his hand and struck the evil-mouthed priest an ugly blow upon the face, so that a few drops of blood began to trickle down his gaunt cheeks.

“Thou liest!”

“Nay! Thou knowest well that I do not lie,” replied Ur-tasen, who literally had not turned a hair under the terrible insult. “The priests of Isis had noticed the women of Princess Neit-akrit standing about outside the temple at dawn. They warned me and I ordered them to watch. Osiris had not made a long journey in the heavens when from out the gates of the sacred edifice they saw a woman glide. The priests of Isis waited… she parted from her lover at the gate.… They saw it all… the laws of Kamt are severe upon the sin of unchastity, and a sin committed within the temple is doubly heinous… that woman was Neit-akrit, Princess of Kamt. Before her women could reach her she was a prisoner, and now awaits her doom for the crime she hath committed.”

But like a madman Hugh was upon him, and his powerful hands had clutched the old priest by the throat.

“Man, thou art bold indeed,” he whispered in his ear, “to stand with such a tale before me and my wrath! Dost know that if that tale is true, that if thou or thy priests do harm but to one hair of Princess Neit-akrit’s head, I will kill thee, even where thou dost stand?”

Ur-tasen made not a movement, only his eyes started out of their sockets, and his lips parted, for the grip round his throat must have been very tight. At last he began in a choked voice which gradually grew stronger and firmer as Hugh relaxed his hold:

“Kill, oh! son of Ra!… kill! if it is thy will! Dost think I would make the faintest struggle? or call my priests to my aid? There are a hundred well within my call, and yet, see! I do not even raise my voice. Kill me! Ay! how gladly would I die, knowing that my death had at last encompassed thy ruin, after I had succeeded in wrecking thy soul. Ay, I think we are quits, oh, beloved of the gods, who with thy mighty hand didst break the wand of office of the high priest of Ra. In exchange for that wand I have broken thy heart, and I will die happy, knowing that that which thou lovest best in all the world will become more abject, more pitiable than Kesh-ta, the slave, whom thou didst snatch from out the clutches of the inexorable justice of Kamt.… Nay, why dost thou hesitate? In the name of Ra, thy sire, and Osiris, whose beloved thou art, strike, oh, emissary of the gods! strike! and with the blow which sheds the blood of the high priest even within the temple which it will desecrate, perhaps the people of Kamt and the priests of their gods will waken from the spell which thou hast cast over them with thy magic. Strike! for beyond that one act of brutish force, thou art powerless! Neit-akrit is a prisoner in the hands of the priests of Kamt. Hidden from all eyes, none can know where she is. Her sin, in this land, is not judged in open court, nor doth anyone hear judgment pronounced upon her.… But, to-morrow, a being—blind, maimed, bruised, who once was the fairest in ancient Kamt, will beg in the streets of Tanis for the charity of the passer-by, and scornful fingers will point pityingly at her and say, ‘’Tis Neit-akrit, once Princess of Kamt, who sinned even within the temple of the goddess!’ Ay, thou mayest strike, oh, beloved of the gods, for within the grave where my body will quietly await the return of my soul, there will be joy and happiness in the thought that thou, mighty as thou art, beloved of the gods and worshipped in all Kamt, canst do nothing to save her from that doom.”

Gradually Hugh’s hands had dropped from off the priest’s throat. I could see that all his furious rage was outwardly gone; he was as pale as death, only his eyes glowed with a weird fire, and his arms were crossed tightly over his chest.

He waited with seeming patience until the high priest had finished speaking, then he said very calmly:

“And didst thou really think, oh, mighty priest of Ra, that events would shape themselves even as thou hadst cunningly devised? Didst really think to find it so easy to pit thy power against mine, and remain the conqueror? Truly, I pity thee! thee and thy blind folly. Thou comest here before me, calm and triumphant, to tell me that she whom I worship is a prisoner in thy hands; that she, who to me is akin to a divinity, is to be vilified and slandered by impious priests, is to be disgraced, nay, worse, tortured, and then calmly dost say thatIcan do nothing to save her from her doom.I, the stranger who did break the impassable barriers which since five thousand years have hidden the secrets of Kamt,Ican do nothing to save my most cherished treasure? Well, perhaps not! perhaps, fearing that some terrible doom might overtake thee before thou hadst time to accomplish thy criminal resolve, thou hast already dared to lay hands on my divinity! Then indeed, thou art right. EvenIcannot undo the past, I cannot save her from her doom! But hast thought of afterwards, oh, mighty priest of Ra?”

“Afterwards?” he asked, with a quiet shrug of the shoulders.

“Ay! Afterwards! Didst think, perchance, that, having in my wrath sent thee and thy vile body, broken into a thousand atoms, into the darkest corner of the valley of death, I would suffer the extreme penalty of the laws of Kamt, and give thy wandering soul the happiness of seeing my shrivelled body withering by starvation, and rotting beneath the claws of the vultures in the desert? or didst think that, shuddering from a crime, I would wander about the cities of Kamt, a broken-hearted and miserable coward? Hast forgotten who and what I am, oh, mighty priest of Ra, when thou didst thinkIwould ask aught ofthee? Hast forgotten that I hold the hearts of Kamt and of its priests in the palm of my hand, and its allegiance at my feet; that from the inaccessible heights of my throne, built upon the love or superstition of the people, I do not ask, but Icommandthee never to dare lay one of thy fingers upon the person of Princess Neit-akrit, not to allow one breath of slander to touch the purity of her name; and if thou, in thy presumption, shouldst perchance dream of disobeying my commands, shouldst think that within the hallowed precincts of thy temples thou canst defy me, then, for the first and last time, Ur-tasen, I bid thee beware! for not upon thy puny body alone will fall the weight of my wrath, not my hand alone shall descend upon thy enfeebled shoulders, but my voice, which now maketh Kamt half-mad with joy, will then be raised to kindle into its people thoughts of evil and of blood; the spell of my magic will hover over their heads, whispering of murder, of incest and of sacrilege; a mist of blood will swim before their eyes, and from Tanis to Net-amen, from Men-ne-fer to Khe-me-nu, I, as the new prophet of evil, will carry before me the burning torch of a bloody revolution. And, ye who are mighty, ye who are rich, and, above all, ye who deem yourselves sacred, pale and tremble! for I will speak unto the people who follow me of desecration and of sacrilege! Ay, even I, who but yesterday spoke of mercy and justice! And the people of Kamt will follow me, Ur-tasen,” he added, as, drawing himself up to his full height, he seemed already to tower above the terror-stricken man as some inspired prophet of evil. “Man is ever ready to listen to the voice which would beckon him back to his original level of savage beast. They will follow me, and become mad with fury, thirsting for carnage, for murder and for bloodshed; they will hurl the rulers from their thrones, destroy their temples and desecrate their tombs! And thou, Ur-tasen, who art the embodiment of that priesthood which hath kept the people of Kamt in superstitious ignorance, against thee and thy priests will the scorn, the loathing, the outrage tend. Buffeted and scorned, thou wilt stand at the very foot of the throne of thy god, as within a pillory of shame; men, women and children will howl and hoot at thee, will point to thee with scornful fingers still reeking with blood, and thou wilt see in that land which thou hadst hoped to rule, man murder his brother, woman her child, child its parent; thou wilt see rape and theft and sacrilege rife, thou wilt see famine and pestilence. And when every foot of the land of wheat and barley hath been polluted by crime, and every temple been desecrated, when the people of Kamt have sunk to the level of the wild beast, then, at a final word from me, they will, with superhuman effort, wage war against Nature herself, and tear down bit by bit every shred of that barrier which thou and thy priests did build around their land; they will tear down palaces and temples, hurl down marble pillars and alabaster steps, set fire to the four corners of the mighty kingdom, till stone does not remain upon stone, and in one vast and burning ruin bury at last their rulers and their priests, their glorious history and their ignoble shame.”

Superstition and terror had gripped the high priest by the throat more firmly than Hugh’s fingers had done before. He grew gradually more livid and more pale; his lips, from which a few drops of blood still slowly trickled, began to twitch and tremble, and once or twice he stretched out his arms towards Hugh as if appealing for mercy.

Hugh was playing a bold game. The woman he loved was in a terrible plight, and his hold upon the people of this land was entirely one of superstition and mysticism. It seemed to me as if from the distance, in the temple, I could hear terrified groans, and I thought that I saw white and ghostlike shadows rush frightened hither and thither.

Hugh had finished speaking, and still the powerful echo of his voice lingered among the pillars: the high priest had buried his face in his hands. He was silent for a while, struggling against his own fears, then we heard his voice, hoarse and trembling, whisper softly:

“Who and what art thou?”

“One who has but one word, one pledge,” replied Hugh; “who never speaks but of that which he can accomplish.”

“Thou art the soul of Set, the power of evil, descended upon earth to bring sorrow in thy trail.”

“I brought joy and happiness when I came; upon thy head rest the burden of desolation and of sorrow.”

“I have not sinned,” he said, almost in entreaty; “Neit-akrit is still safe… a precious hostage in my hands,” he added, noting Hugh’s sudden look of infinite relief, “that which thou dost hold most dear, and yet hast overwhelmed with sorrow.”

“Name her not, Ur-tasen,” interrupted Hugh; “she is as pure and holy as the goddess whose image thou dost worship.”

“Nay, I had no evil thoughts of her,” replied Ur-tasen, quite humbly; “I was speaking of sorrow; thou canst not command so intangible a thing to keep clear of her path. Thou hast sworn to wed Maat-kha: as long as she lives, thy love for another can but give sorrow and shame. And Maat-kha will live! None saw her do the evil deed save thy counsellor!… willheaccuse her before the awful judgment seat of Kamt?

“Thou hast conquered, oh, beloved of the gods,” added the high priest, with sudden strange eagerness. “See! I, who had defied thee and thy might, am the humblest of thy slaves; and yet, mighty as thou art, thou canst not, whilst thou art in the land of Kamt, change thy destiny and hers! Thou art wedded to a murderess, and Neit-akrit cannot sit upon the throne of Kamt. For thoughts of thee she will not wed another; sorrowing she will turn to the gods for comfort, and seek refuge against a guilty love in the vows of a priestess of Ra. Nay!… What canst thou do?… thou art mighty!… but it will only be when all the gods of Kamt are dethroned, and all their temples desecrated, that thou canst break the bonds which bind thee to Maat-kha, or place in Neit-akrit’s hand the sceptre of a queen.”

The high priest paused again, and once more his keen eyes searched those of Hugh. We held one another tightly grasped by the hand: I think we both felt that we were nearing the final crisis in our strange and weird adventure.

“Thou art mighty, oh, beloved of the gods,” whispered Ur-tasen, so low that we could scarcely hear; “thou art great, and the people of Kamt do worship thee… and I, the most powerful in the land, more powerful than any Pharaoh—for I rule over the dead as well as over the living—I do grovel at thy feet. Call forth the people of Kamt… let them come in hundreds and in thousands, and in tens of thousands! let them come to Men-ne-fer… to see the high priest of Ra kneeling humbly before the emissary of the gods, and with his hands tying the sandals upon the stranger’s feet.…

“It is a great and glorious festival,” he added with growing eagerness, seeing that Hugh and I had, in a flash, realised what was passing in his mind. “The most exquisite products of the land will decorate the temple of the god.… In the middle of the sanctuary, upon a throne of gold, surrounded by the priests of Ra, there will stand he who is beloved of the gods… the festival shall be great and glorious, but sorrow will be in the hearts of all the people of Kamt… for the son of Ra, the emissary of the Most High… will return to the heavenly land… from whence he came.”

Hugh did not speak; in his eyes I read the awakening of a great hope—an infinite peace and relief; he had guessed that the high priest, terrified and humbled, was, of his own accord, begging for that which Hugh even would never have had the power to force him to grant.

“But in the hearts of the people of Kamt,” added Ur-tasen, finally, “there will for ever dwell the memory of him who first in the judgment hall of Men-ne-fer spoke to them of mercy and of truth; and at even, when Isis is high in the heavens, and ties of home and love bring men and women together, they will talk of him who was beloved of the gods, who left the land beyond the blue vault of heaven to dwell for a while upon Kamt. Then Maat-kha, twice a widow, will weep shuddering over her sin, and Neit-akrit, Queen of Upper and Lower Kamt, will dispense truth and justice to her people, while dwelling on the fond memory as upon a happy dream—the memory to which will be attached neither sorrow nor shame.”

He had sunk down upon his knees—a humble, cringing suppliant, and his shaven crown rested upon the floor, at Hugh’s feet, which he was kissing like any abject slave.

“Mark, old fellow, this is happy deliverance, is it not?”

“Do you wish to go, Girlie?” I asked.

“How can I stay? This man has said it truly, I am wedded to Maat-kha; my love can only bring sorrow on her whom I worship, shame perhaps… and I…” he added with a sigh, “I could not live now here, without her, while I am a prisoner in this land.… When I am gone… I think… we should both forget.

“Listen, Ur-tasen,” he said after a little while, “I still have much to say to thee. See that the Princess, whom thou hast outraged, is respectfully conveyed to her palace. The priests who have dared to lay hands upon her must grovel humbly at her feet until she hath deigned to forgive; if she chooses to mete out a punishment to them, then see that it is carried out, whatever it may be.… When that is done, do thou go back to Men-ne-fer.… I and my counsellor will follow later on.… Within thy temple I will speak to thee again.”

“Then… thou dost consent, oh, beloved of the gods?” whispered Ur-tasen, without daring to look up.

“Nay, I know not! Remember… I make no compact.… I cannot say.… But I fain would see what reparation thou canst offer to Princess Neit-akrit, and I must speak with my counsellor.”

“Wilt deign to allow the servants of the temple to accompany thee to the palace? The Pharaoh is dead… Maat-kha is Queen, and thou art the holy Pharaoh, since thou art her lord.”

“Nay, I would be alone with my counsellor. Go, Ur-tasen! ’Twere best that thou who wast witness to her crime shouldst tell Maat-kha that I know all.”

“I am ever ready to obey thy commands, oh, beloved of the gods, and in all Kamt thou dost not own a more humble slave than Ur-tasen, the high priest of the Most High.”

Painfully he struggled to his feet: he seemed a broken-down old man now. When, after another deep obeisance, he turned to go, we remarked that he did no longer walk erect, that his humiliation had bent his tall figure, and placed the full weight of his years upon his shoulders.

Thatsame afternoon we left for Men-ne-fer. Tanis perforce had to put aside her bridal finery and plunge herself into mourning. All day the scribes of the temple ran up and down the streets, shouting at the top of their voices that the holy Pharaoh was dead; that he had succumbed to his many ailments in the arms of the priests of Isis, who had helped to soothe his dying moments. His mother, broken down with grief, could not be persuaded to leave his lifeless body, and would remain in Tanis until such time as, the elaborate process of embalming being completed, the dead Pharaoh would be ready to be conveyed to Men-ne-fer, for the solemn obsequies.

Hugh had tacitly allowed this version of the Pharaoh’s death to be spread among the people. He had no wish to publicly accuse her who already was his wife in name, and hand her over to the cruel justice of her country. No doubt she suffered enough. Hugh would not see her, and she had been told that he knew of her crime.

When, having taken farewell of lovely Tanis, our boat began to glide slowly along the canal, it seemed to both of us that on the height where stood the royal palace we saw a figure swathed in black, sharply defined against the white background, stretching out its arms entreatingly towards our fast disappearing boat.

Tanis in sorrow had not dared to speed our departure with shouts of farewell, nor did the snow-white city, coquettish in her perpetual bridal attire, know that the son of Ra was leaving her never to return.

Hugh had not hesitated a moment. He longed to get away, and I confess that I viewed the prospect of leaving this strange exotic land for ever without the slightest pang.

“We will make our own terms with Ur-tasen,” said Hugh; “and I promise you our return journey will not be attended with any privations.”

“You are glad to go?” I asked.

“Very glad,” he replied earnestly. “She will be happy… and we shall both forget.”

As long as we could, we watched the white city gradually growing more hazy and dim, until at last a turn in the canal, a thick clump of papyrus grass hid it entirely from our view; even then it seemed to me that the echo from sistrum and harp, the strange songs of the priestesses of Isis, hovered for some time in the air.

The journey from Tanis to Men-ne-fer direct was a long one. We spent two nights beneath the canopy of our boat, lulled to sleep by the rhythmic clap of the oars and the monotonous lullabies sung by the boatmen. The third night we passed before the palace of Neit-akrit.

There was no moon, and it was very dark all around; the marble palace hardly appeared as an outline against the heavy sky, only the gigantic sphinxes seemed to frown down upon us in the gloom. A warm breeze was in the air, and as the boat glided swiftly past the great fuchsia trees gave forth a long and melancholy sigh. We neither of us spoke; but by the dim light of the lamp at the poop I could see that, for a long time, Hugh watched that ghostlike palace, those fuchsia trees, whose snow-white walls, within which he had buried his earthly paradise.

We neared Men-ne-fer towards the early morning, and, after a rest in the palace, we went to meet Ur-tasen in the temple of Ra.

He looked to me very much aged, and anxiety had traced many more lines on his face. He met Hugh very eagerly, but knelt humbly on the floor, waiting for him to speak.

“Where is Princess Neit-akrit?” asked Hugh.

“To-night her boat will have reached her palace, where she has decided to remain until the obsequies of the dead Pharaoh, when she will come to Men-ne-fer,” replied the high priest, humbly, and almost in a whisper.

“And those priests who dared lay hands upon her person?”

“They await her pardon in the vault beneath the temple of Isis. But I do not doubt that Neit-akrit will grant it.”

Hugh breathed a sigh of relief. There was no doubt that Ur-tasen had not even thought of defiance; moreover, we gathered from this that, though he feared and hated the beloved of the gods, he did not distrust him.

“What dost thou know of the land which lies beyond the gates of Kamt?” asked Hugh, abruptly, after a slight pause, during which he had scanned with a scornful frown the figure of the high priest kneeling at his feet.

“Nay, I know nothing, oh, beloved of the gods. I care not to know, whatever in my dreams I may at times have guessed. Never hath foot of man crossed the valley of death and lived.”

“Yet I came. Dost know from whence?”

“Thou saidst it: from the foot of the throne of the gods.”

“Ay. And thither will I return, taking with me the hearts of the people of Kamt. Now listen to my commands, and ’twere well for thee that thou seest that they are implicitly obeyed. From among thy priests choose those whom thou wouldst trust, as thou dost trust thyself, who, like thee, know that beyond the valley of death there lies some other land, and do thou tell them that I would visit it. Then bid them secure eight sturdy oxen and two light but roomy carts, to each of which four oxen should be yoked. These beasts and carts must be lowered through the gate of Kamt into the valley of death. The priests whom thou wilt have chosen as being silent and discreet shall load the carts. In one they shall place sixty gourds, each containing two measures of water, and two gourds, each containing three measures of wine; two sacks of dried dates and figs, and five jars of dried fish and goose’s flesh; the other cart must be heaped with oil cakes, barley and dried grass, in as great a quantity as the four oxen can bear quite easily. When the carts are ready and loaded and the oxen put to, bid thy priests choose a healthy cow and tether her to one of the carts. At dawn thou shalt accompany me and my counsellor to the gates of Kamt, and thou shalt cause thyself to be lowered into the valley of death, before I myself do follow thee. Thou shalt come with me across the wilderness as far as the Rock of Anubis, against which, if thou hast in any way disobeyed me, or played me false, I will chain thee and bind thee, and leave thee to starve slowly amidst the carrion. But if thou hast punctually obeyed my commands, thou canst then return: thy priests, in the meanwhile, can keep a watch for thee.”

The high priest made no comment, but merely asked quietly:

“Are these all thy commands, oh, beloved of the gods?”

“All, as regards my journey hence. Before I leave thou shalt proclaim from the foot of the altar of thy gods that I, their emissary, have returned from whence I came, that my mission among the people of Kamt is fulfilled, for I came by the will of Ra himself to infuse mercy into their laws. No man or woman shall in future be cast out living from Kamt, to die of starvation in the wilderness; no man or woman shall, for any sin or crime, suffer torture or mutilation. This thou shalt proclaim from the inner sanctuary of Ra, even while I, ready to go upon my journey, will listen from the outer precincts, which lead to the gates of Kamt, and hear that thou dost do my bidding. Then, when thou hast done that, thou shalt tell the people that I enjoin them, as a parting wish, to honour and reverence Neit-akrit, their Queen, whom Ra himself, by my mouth, hath decreed shall rule over them as long as she lives whether she take a husband or no. She shall be the sole and mighty Pharaoh, and on her head alone shall rest the double crown of Kamt.”

Ur-tasen’s face brightened up. It was obvious that Hugh need have no fear that this parting injunction of his should not be implicitly obeyed. The high priest of Ra, in spite of all, was still under the magic spell of beautiful Neit-akrit.

There was nothing more to be said, and we left the temple of Ra to have a final look at the land which we had found so fair.

I was glad to leave it; the gilded cage had somehow become an intolerable prison, but… it was a parting, and all partings are sad. The people of Men-ne-fer did not know that their idol was leaving them; though the death of the Pharaoh had thrown outward gloom over the city, they made no attempt to restrain their enthusiasm, their delight in having him in their midst again, who was beloved of the gods.

The picture of that day in Kamt is one of the most vivid in my memory. The sun was dazzlingly bright, and Men-ne-fer—gorgeous Men-ne-fer with its rose-tinted palaces, its temples and gardens and market squares—displayed before our saddened eyes all the splendours of its beauty. The royal palace, on the steps of which the pale pink flamingoes stalked lazily in the heat of the mid-day sun, the broad canal, each side of which the marble palaces rose in a gorgeous line, the market, where gigantic piles of pomegranates threw a brilliant note of vivid orange and red against the blue and the green of water and foliage, and above all the silent and immense judgment hall, with its great marble throne, from whence it seemed to me that I could still hear the harsh, sarcastic laughter of the dead Pharaoh and the screeching of his apes.

Once or twice during that day I saw Hugh’s eyes turned with unutterable longing towards the East, beyond the great canal where, in the midst of fuchsia groves, stood that white palace, the terrace with its turquoise blue canopy and its marble floors, on which Sen-tur lazily chased the ibis up and down.

He had made up his mind that he would not see her again.… The parting perhaps would be easier to bear.… There was no doubt that it was all for the best.… She would be happy again when she knew that he had gone away for ever into the land of dreams.

Onemore picture—the last—in the gorgeous panorama which had so uninterruptedly passed before our eyes ever since we had as it were taken possession of this beautiful land—the picture of Kamt in mourning, bidding farewell to him who was beloved of the gods.

Hugh had made hard conditions with the high priest of Ra. He had demanded beasts, provisions for the journey across the desert, and Ur-tasen’s own person as hostage for his good faith. The high priest, humbly, without question, had agreed to all, and now two days later at even, while we, wrapped in our dark mantles ready for our great homeward journey across the desert, stood behind that heavy black curtain on the very spot at the rear of the sanctuary of Ra from whence we had first caught a glimpse of the glories of Kamt, Ur-tasen prepared himself to obey Hugh’s final commands.

The oxen had been chosen, we had inspected the carts and provisions, all of which stood ready in the vast corridors which led to the great copper gate, and now, from where we stood, we watched the high priest as he went up to the mighty gong and, taking the clapper, beat the metal, so that its volume of sound went echoing far beyond the gateway of the temple. Thrice he struck the gong, then there was silence in the sacred edifice: but only for a while, for, very soon, from the city which was preparing for its evening rest, after the toil of day, sounds of fast approaching footsteps, of hurried whispers, penetrated to our ears. The people of Men-ne-fer heard the summons which bade them come to the temple of Ra, and obedient, half-frightened, lest they were being called to hear some tidings of evil, they hurriedly left their homes and flocked to the sanctuary of the god.

Ur-tasen had withdrawn to the foot of the statue of Ra; there he waited until the vast edifice was full of people; the lights glimmered low, only bringing out here and there into brilliant relief some blue or green iridescent enamel upon a pillar. Men, women and children were lying prostrate upon the floor waiting for the high priest to speak. The gossamer veil had been drawn aside so that all might look upon the majesty of the god, and at the foot of the sanctuary steps the blind priestesses intoned their monotonous, lugubrious chant.

Then, when from end to end the gigantic building was filled with prostrate figures, Ur-tasen began to speak:

“Oh, people of Kamt, behold the majesty of the gods!

“They who have filled your hearts with joy have now shed sorrow upon the land!

“Thou art mighty, oh, Ra, and mighty is thy son!

“Thou art great, Osiris, and great is thy beloved!

“Oh, people of Kamt, look upwards to the vault of heaven, and there, amidst the innumerable lamps, which the hand of Phtah doth kindle in the skies, seek for the face of him who was the emissary of the gods!

“People of Kamt, look upwards to the skies! and at night, when Isis doth shine, pure and bounty-giving from above, then remember him who is beloved of the gods!

“Oh, people of Kamt, look within your hearts, for there alone shall in future dwell the image of him who is the son of Ra!”

Awestruck, not understanding, one by one the dark heads were raised aloft, and thousands of anxious eyes peered upwards in the gloom.

“Oh, people of Kamt, do not mourn! He who is beloved of the gods hath dwelt amidst you all! He gave you joy and happiness, he spoke to you of mercy and of love! but the gods up above have need of him, they called to him, and he hath gone!”

There was a long and universal shriek: the sorrow and disappointment it expressed was quite unmistakable. I felt strangely impressed and sad, as if I were assisting at my own funeral. Hugh’s face, too, was white and set. It is hard to leave those who love one dearly, hard to go in the very summit of one’s popularity.

The high priest had waited for a while, until the demonstration of sorrow had somewhat subsided, then he added:

“Oh, people of Kamt! the beloved of the gods has gone!

“Remember, his spirit still hovers round you!

“Remember the joy he gave you and obey his behests.

“Before he left he spoke his wishes to me, the humble servant of Ra, our god, his sire, and bade me transmit these wishes unto you, his people. He, as your ruler and your king, has appointed as his successor upon the throne, Neit-akrit, the well-beloved of the house of Usem-ra, and he hath ordained that since Maat-kha, now twice a widow, hath decided to vow herself to the service of Ra, that you do obey Neit-akrit as you would himself. She will rule over you, she, the holy Pharaoh, entrusted by him with the fullest powers, and on her head alone shall rest the double crown of Kamt, which I, the high priest of the Most High, All-creating Ra, will place upon her brow.”

Ur-tasen had done his duty. Hugh could rest satisfied. Neit-akrit would be Queen indeed, and after the proclamation issued at the very foot of their most cherished god, the people of Kamt would truly reverence and honour her.

After this Ur-tasen read a short proclamation embodying the other promises he had made to Hugh: the abolition of the “casting-out” form of punishment, the complete cessation of all description of mutilation. The blind priestesses began to sing again, and from the four corners of the temple clouds of incense rose: the priests of Ra had crowded round the steps of the sanctuary; they were offering up a final sacrifice in honour of him who had gone.

Then suddenly, from amidst a distant group, one solitary figure detached itself. I did not recognise it at first, but Hugh gave a start, and then I knew who it was.

She came slowly forward, while on each side of her the people knelt, in order to kiss the ground on which she walked. I don’t think that I had ever seen her look more beautiful; she was draped from below the bust, down to her ankles, in a long kalasiris of dull black, against which her ruddy tresses fell in strands of living gold, each side of her, right down to her knees. She had neither jewel nor ornament of any kind; her tiny feet were bare, as were her arms and shoulders. Beside her Sen-tur walked slowly and majestically, as if conscious of the solemnity of the sacred building. She stared straight before her, at the figure of the god; the blind priestesses were softly chanting a hymn, and she—Neit-akrit—almost as in a dream, began to mount the sanctuary steps.

Instinctively my hand grasped that of Hugh: it was cold as a piece of marble. He did not move, but watched her with a yearning look which brought the tears into my eyes.

I think that Ur-tasen had not expected to see her, and I saw him glance furtively in our direction. The group of priests parted when she came near, to allow her to pass; none dared to stop her, though the sanctuary of Ra is sacred, and no profane foot should ever stand upon its steps. But she seemed almost ethereal, as if she had left her body away somewhere, and it was only the exquisite spirit of love, beauty and womanhood which stepped towards the god.

At last she reached the foot of the great marble throne—she and Sen-tur, for the panther had not left her side—her tall figure looked strangely small and childlike standing alone in the vast sanctuary, at the foot of the mammoth statue. She was very pale, and her large blue eyes looked upwards searchingly in the gloom above. Then she raised her hand, and I saw that in it she held a sprig of white rosemary; she raised it to her lips and placed it at the foot of the god.

“Rosemary for remembrance,” she whispered softly, so softly that I felt sure none behind her could hear, and as slowly, as automatically as she had come, she turned and went, the group of priests parting respectfully in order to let her pass.

And the vision of the quaint, straight figure, draped in black so like an Egyptian idol, standing as in a dream at the foot of the marble statue of the god, was the last which Hugh had of the beautiful girl whom he loved so passionately, and the word “remembrance” was the last which would for ever linger in his ear.

After that we allowed the heavy curtain to drop; we neither of us wished to look again. Let that vision be the last which we should carry away in our hearts of the beauties of ancient Kamt. Poor old Hugh, I think he suffered terribly. But he was a man of iron determination; he had decided that it was right, for her sake and his own, that he should go, and at this moment even I do not think that any temptation assailed him to change his resolution. About an hour later Ur-tasen joined us; he preceded us up the great staircase of black granite, which was so peopled with memories of our first arrival. The sleek and poisonous guardians of the gates of Kamt were lying caged under the baskets of rush, to enable those who had charge of the preparations for our journey to pass to and fro.

How strange it was to see that great copper slab lowered from within, and to look out from the gloom of the temple precincts onto the illimitable desert beyond. Far ahead the Rock of Anubis towered against the sky, and all along we could see the long road, made white by innumerable bones of the dead criminals of Kamt.

One by one, on the ponderous grapnel, oxen and carts and provisions were lowered into the desert. Three priests of Ra were already below, and were busy loading the waggons and harnessing the oxen. Then, when all was ready, they were hauled up, and Ur-tasen, without a word, allowed the belt to be slipped round his waist. The three priests stood above, placid and silent, doing their work, obeying Hugh’s directions without a comment. They were to remain here, ready to reopen the gates for the returning high priest.

I followed Ur-tasen, and finally Hugh also descended. Everything was in order. I took charge of one team of oxen, Hugh of the other. And we started on our way.

Above us, without a sound, silently, drawn by unseen hands, the gates of Kamt were shut against us for ever.

Besidethe Rock of Anubis, Ur-tasen parted from us. He had not spoken one word since we started, but here he asked if Hugh was satisfied.

“Quite satisfied,” he replied.

“Then farewell, oh, son of Ra!” said the high priest, solemnly. He knelt down and kissed the sand of the desert, then quietly he rose and started to walk back towards the gates of Kamt. We watched his gaunt figure across the desert until a boulder hid it from our view; it looked bent with age and disappointment. I think he felt that the youthful ruler of Kamt would not place much power in his hands, and that the stranger, though absent, had conquered after all.

The journey across the desert was terribly wearisome at first, but gradually Hugh’s taciturnity fled and we spent many happy hours in remembering our golden visions and looking over the many treasures which lay at the bottom of our carts. The oxen, however, stood the journey very badly; one by one they dropped upon the road, and the last six days of our voyage we did on foot, carrying as little water as we dared, and we were very close on starvation point when, late one evening, we reached the grave of the Greek priest, which faced the setting sun. We rested here that night, and weak, tired out as we were, we spent half the night in watching… watching an imaginary point on the horizon, which is more fair, more gorgeous and grand than aught which Western civilisation has ever dreamed of.

And now we are back at The Chestnuts, and Hugh and I are not as young as we were. Dear old Janet welcomed us, much shocked at our terrible appearance; but the day after our arrival there was no trace outwardly on either of us of the strange adventures we had just gone through. We resumed our quiet, English, bachelor life, as if the last few months had been all a dream; and at times now, when I sit beside the great log fire and watch the dying embers on the hearth, I wonder whether the vision of the ancient hordes of Egypt, the glories of Men-ne-fer and Tanis, are not all a product of my excited fancy, and, above all, I wonder whether the vision of a tall, girlish figure, whose hair is like the rays of Osiris when he sinks to rest, and whose very name breathes romance and mystery, is not one of those dreams with which the remembrance of dear old Mr. Tankerville was always wont to lull me to sleep.

Then I look up lazily from the fire in which my aching eyes had seen vast temples and mammoth carvings, and I see close to me Sawnie Girlie sitting at his desk.

He is writing one of those learned books which have spread his fame from one corner of Europe to the other, and before him there is a tiny gold casket with a glass lid, within which lies a faded and dried sprig of rosemary.

“White rosemary for remembrance!”

[The End]

Originally published in the U.S. in 1907 as “The Gates of Kamt,” this book was retitled “By the Gods Beloved” (the same as the U.K. edition) in 1921 with no other changes to the text.

Illustrations by Margaret West Kinney and Troy Kinney.

Minor spelling inconsistencies (e.g.ghostlike/ghost-like, high priest/high-priest, etc.) have been preserved.

Alterations to the text:

[Chapter II]

Change “this labour of Sisyphus, theframentsof brown dust” tofragments.

[Chapter III]

“at its very baseRholffound traces of an ancient way” toRholfs.

[Chapter XXII]

“who would worship at hershine—the shrine of love” toshrine.

[Chapter XXV]

“so that she mightecsapethe just and awful punishment” toescape.

[End of text]

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