img160.jpg“Remember that this broken wand might prove the future emblem of thy power”
“Remember that this broken wand might prove the future emblem of thy power”
spread over the entire crowd, till the clamour became deafening, till the hymns sounded like an ode of triumph, then he calmly dropped the curtain and, smiling, turned to Ur-tasen.
“Didstthouspeak of power, oh, mighty priest of Ra?” he asked.
“Wouldst thou defy the might that made thee?” thundered the high priest, advancing threateningly towards Hugh and brandishing the massive wand over his head. “Beware, I tell thee, thou stranger in the land, lest the same hands which set thee above all the people of Kamt should hurl thee from that throne and send thee bruised and bleeding into the dark valley of death, a prey to the carrion of the wilderness from whence thou camest, followed by the maledictions of that same populace which is now ready to proclaim thee akin to the gods!”
The old man was still vigorous, and I had jumped forward, seriously fearing that the next instant the heavy gold wand would descend on Hugh’s skull, with a strength which might have silenced this dispute for mastery for ever. Queen Maat-kha, too, had put out both her arms imploringly towards the high priest, who seemed to have lost all self-control; but it was evident that, with all his wisdom, the old gentleman knew nothing about the temperament of a son of prosy old England. Hugh looked down on him from his full altitude of six feet two inches and, with an impatient frown and a shrug of the shoulders, he quietly wrenched the massive wand of office from out Ur-tasen’s nervous hands and, apparently without the slighest effort, bent it right across his knee till with a dull metallic sound the golden wand broke clean in half; then he threw the pieces on the marble floor at the astonished priest’s feet and, smiling, shook the dust from off his hands.
“Thy age and thy weakness make thee sacred at my hands,” he said as he calmly returned to his place beside the Queen, “but thou wouldst do well to remember that this broken wand might prove the future emblem of thyself and of thy power. The hour is late, my Queen,” he added, turning to hisfiancée, who was still speechless with terror and amazement, “and it is time we prepared ourselves for our journey. Pick up thy golden wand, Ur-tasen, and salute thy Queen!”
He gave a signal and the eight deaf-mute slaves hoisted up the litter ready to bear it away. The high priest had silently picked up the golden wand as he was bid and silently had made humble obeisance before Hugh and the Queen. As I followed them out of the council chamber, I saw the high priest still standing, gazing in amazement at the broken bar of gold and at Hugh’s retreating figure with superstitious terror; then, as the first wild shouts of enthusiasm of the populace, at sight of the Beloved of the gods, reached his ears, he fell upon his knees and stretched out his arms with a shriek towards the sanctuary of Ra.
“Thereis no doubt now, Girlie, but you have made an enemy of that man,” I said, as soon as I had a chance of speaking to Hugh alone.
“It could not be helped, Mark. It was a choice between an enemy and a master. I see it clearly now, that after the first shock of surprise it was Ur-tasen’s idea to use me as a puppet with which to further play upon the superstition of the people, and to consolidate his own power over Queen Maat-kha. I suppose that, with a woman at the head of affairs and a Pharaoh too ill to attend to anything seriously, the old fox has had it pretty much his own way.”
“And when she asked him to allow her to marry again, he naturally did not cotton to the idea of a possible new master,” I added thoughtfully, “or he never would have refused the cartloads of gold dust or whatever other bribes the fair Queen offered for his consent. Then you appeared upon the scene…”
“And the old humbug was staggered for a moment, I daresay, but he knows well enough that we have come from somewhere on this earth, and not from heaven. I suppose that he suddenly saw possibilities of making me his tool and keeping the power in his own hands, while on the other hand the Queen might have rebelled against his wishes and married again in spite of him. Weighing one consideration with another, as W. S. Gilbert’s policeman says, Ur-tasen thought he could make most capital out of me in my semi-divine capacity, and now I have taught him the salutary lesson that I have not come all this way in order to become a priest-ridden tool for the furtherance of pagan superstitions, and of course he is not altogether pleased.”
“You certainly have the people at your command, old man, but the priests, I should imagine, are treacherous.”
“And that arch-humbug, Ur-tasen, the most treacherous of the lot,” replied Hugh, with a laugh. “Of course he hates me now, and having found out that I simply will not dance to his piping, he will, no doubt, take the first possible opportunity of effectively getting rid of me.”
“He dare not do that just at present.”
“Of course not. But these picturesque and excitable people are only human after all. This enthusiasm is bound to cool down after a bit, and then ’ware of traps and plots.”
“I cannot help thinking, Girlie,” I added, “that Princess Neit-akrit will prove a source of great danger.”
“To what, old croaker?—to our heads or to our hearts?” he said, with a laugh.
“I am inclined to think to both,” I replied earnestly. “Do you feel at all impressionable just now?”
“I? Not the least bit in the world. Has not the dear little swimmer’s talisman rendered me invulnerable? Besides, this land, fair as it is, is neither my home nor my country. At present it is a great and gorgeous prison, and I should not be such a fool as to court sorrow and misery within it.”
“Do you know, old man, that if those are your sentiments your attitude towards your future wife is doubtful in its morality?”
“You don’t understand what I mean, Mark. Marriage is a sacred tie, whether contracted in Christian or in pagan land. My word is pledged to Queen Maat-kha, and I will keep my word to her as much as I should if I were pledged to a woman English-born like myself. And if ever I return to dusty old London, even if she did not choose to accompany me, I should still consider the tie which binds me to her indissoluble, so long as she chooses to hold me to it. But, believe me, she has no love for me; to her I merely represent the stranger—human or semi-divine—who has helped to keep the crown upon her head and prevented it from falling upon that of Neit-akrit, whom she hates. The Pharaoh is doomed, and by the curious constitution of this land a woman can only sit upon the throne of Kamt if a husband or a son share that throne with her. That arbitrary old Ur-tasen would not allow her to wed one of her own subjects; he was surprised into accepting me. As soon as a son is born to her, she will release me from my word and see me depart without a pang.”
“In the meanwhile, how are you going to induce the Pharaoh to accept me as his medical adviser?”
“I don’t think it will be difficult, for I expect to-day he will be too ill to have much will of his own. Do you know that somehow I have had the feeling all along that neither Queen Maat-kha nor Ur-tasenwantthe unfortunate man to get well. He is no friend of mine, but I hope to goodness you can cure him, if only to annoy my arch-enemy, the high priest.”
The difficult problem was unexpectedly and suddenly solved when, just as the sun was setting, our usual gorgeous retinue came to fetch us in order to escort us to the boats which were ready for the journey. Gay-coloured sails, wrought in scarlet and blue designs, were attached to the crafts, which were manned by sixteen boatmen in scarlet leather skull-caps, collars and belts, their naked bodies shining with some perfumed ointment with which they were smeared.
In the centre of each boat a pavilion was erected, with turquoise blue and green awnings, the gigantic double crown of Kamt glittering aloft at prow and poop. Queen Maat-kha, swathed in the clinging folds of her black kalasiris, wore the royal uræus round her dark hair, which was thickly plaited with strings of emeralds and half hidden beneath a veil of dull blue and purple stripes. She looked very beautiful, though strangely excited and pale. As soon as she saw us she whispered for a while eagerly to Hugh, then she came up to me and said:
“Will my lord’s counsellor deign to step into the mighty Pharaoh’s boat? He himself will be here anon.”
“Is the Pharaoh well enough to travel?” I asked, astonished.
“He has expressed the wish to see his royal kinswoman; and, as my lord desired, I have ordered that thou, oh, wise counsellor, shouldst be beside the mighty Pharaoh, to be a help to him in his sickness.”
Hugh had triumphed; evidently the Queen, like Ur-tasen, had thought it best to obey the beloved of the gods, who had the whole of the population of Kamt grovelling at his feet. The Pharaoh himself, I think, felt too ill to care whether my insignificant self or his shaven, yellow-robed attendants sat opposite to him under the awning. He looked more cadaverous than ever amidst his rose silk cushions as he was brought in his litter to the water’s edge and lifted into the boat. He gave me an astonished look as I arranged his pillows more comfortably for him, and without a word took the heavy diadem from off his aching forehead and placed it by his side. He seemed like an automaton this morning and took no notice of anybody or anything round him. Complete apathy and drowsiness had succeeded his outburst of fury of the night before; even when he saw Hugh coming down the steps, looking positively regal in his mantle of shimmering green and gold, he turned his eyes listlessly away. On the alabaster steps the tiny musicians were playing upon harps and drums, while on the opposite shore the people had assembled in dense masses to watch the departure. Young athletes, among whom were many of the fair sex, had dived into the water, and were swimming about round the royal boats, peeping with bright, inquisitive eyes beneath the canopy, to catch sight of the beloved of the gods. I remembered our pretty visitor of last night and wondered what Hugh had done with the iridescent beetle which was supposed to keep him from harm. Then, as the sun disappeared behind the hills in the west, slowly at first the boatmen dipped their scarlet oars into the water to the accompaniment of a low, monotonousbarcarolle, and gracefully the crescent-shaped boats glided down the stream, while a prolonged cry of farewell came from thousands of enthusiastic throats. Soon the wind swelled the sails, the boatmen plied their oars more vigorously, and the city of Men-ne-fer, with its rose-tinted palaces catching the last lingering rays of the setting sun, passed away before our eyes like a gigantic and gorgeous panorama.
It was long before the sound of sistrum and harp died away in the distance, long before the shouts of farewell ceased to echo from afar. One by one the sturdy swimmers dropped behind and returned to the city. I had given the Pharaoh a soothing draught, which, to my astonishment, he had taken obediently, and he was lying back against the pillows, with the gentle breeze fanning the matted hair on his forehead.
The city was soon far behind us; great fields stretched out on either side of the canal, covered with waving crops of barley and wheat, with groves of palms and fruit trees, and bowers of lilies, fuchsias and clematis. From time to time in the distance I caught sight of teams of white oxen walking leisurely homewards after the day’s work was done; beside them the brown chest and back of a sturdy labourer of Kamt seemed to glisten in the evening light. Then at times, half-hidden among groves of palms and giant aloes, there peeped out the white or rose-tinted walls of some country mansion, or towering above the water there would rise, majestic and gorgeous, a temple dedicated to some protecting deity. As the royal procession sailed along the stream, from between the pillars would emerge a band of priests in flowing robes of white or yellow, and behind them a group of priestesses would intone a hymn as we passed.
I felt strangely anxious and excited, my mind dwelling persistently on the mysterious and poetic personality of the young princess, who seemed to create such unreasoning love in all male hearts of Kamt, and who had chosen this hour of night—mystic, poetic as she was herself—in which to receive him for the first time—himwhose advent had deprived her of her throne.
The canal had considerably widened, and presently we drifted into a large inland lake. Night had entirely closed in, and I could not see the shore on either side, only the lights high aloft on the prow of the boats threw fantastic glints in the water. All was peaceful and silent, save for the rhythmic clap of the oars as they rose and fell in the water and the flapping of the sails in the breeze. Then gradually from the horizon in the west a blue radiance illumined the sky, and slow and majestic the silver moon rose above the fairy-like landscape; and as she rose the boatmen began to intone the hymn of greeting to rising Isis. Softly at first, and hardly discernible above the sighing of the reeds and papyrus grass in the wind, the chant rose louder and louder, as the silver disc appeared above the line of hills.
The Pharaoh had roused himself from his sleep, and impatiently he pushed aside the curtain which hid the distance from his view. I, too, looked out towards the west and saw that we were rapidly nearing an island, which rose like a veritable bower of flowers and palms from the middle of the lake, and the outline of which gradually detached itself from out the gloom. Then suddenly, in response to the chant of the boatmen, there came faintly echoing from that fairy island a flourish of silver trumpets.
The Pharaoh’s face looked terribly set and hard; his dark eyes, framed by purple rings, appeared literally to glow as they gazed incessantly afar.
“It is there!” he whispered.
Before us, above a gigantic flight of marble steps rising straight from out the water, there towered a massive building, its heavy pillars, covered in delicate sculpture, supporting the ponderous flat roof, which seemed to my strangely excited fancy to be made of massive gold. At the foot of the steps two mammoth sphinxes of white granite, mysterious and immense, frowned majestically across the lake.
As we approached, once again the silver trumpets sent a flourish through the evening air, and then I saw that the terraces high above us, the palm groves, and even the massive roof, were densely covered with people, while the whole gigantic flight of steps was lined with rows of slaves, dark and immovable as statues.
The Pharaoh’s boat had scraped its side against the marble; his attendants had jumped out ready to help him to alight. But he pushed them almost brutally aside and stepped on shore, leaning heavily on my shoulder. He was trembling from head to foot, and I could see great beads of perspiration glistening on his forehead. I could not help feeling vaguely nervous too. This arrival by moonlight, the poetic fairy palace, the trembling man by my side, all helped to make my nerves tingle with the presentiment of something strange to come.
A song of welcome had greeted the arrival of the Pharaoh, and from above a shower of lilies and iris fell like a sweet-scented carpet at his feet. He looked round to where Queen Maat-kha had just alighted, closely followed by Hugh; then I saw his trembling hand wander to the short metal dagger at his side and clutch it with a nervous grip, while a hissing sound escaped his throat. But the next moment he had looked upwards, and quietly he began to mount the marble steps.
At sight of the beloved of the gods a terrific shout of welcome had rent the air, and, as I looked behind me for a moment, I could see that the whole length of the marble steps was—according to the strange custom of this land—literally carpeted with the bodies of young girls, eager thathisfoot should tread upon them. They crowded round him, kissing the tips of his sandals or the corner of his mantle, the more venturesome ones touching his foot or hand as he walked with Queen Maat-kha by his side.
Then suddenly from above a strong and flickering light, from a hundred torches borne high aloft, changed the night into day. There was a moment of silence and expectancy, and thenshe came.
It would be an impossible task for me to attempt to put into words my first impression of Princess Neit-akrit, as she stood there on the edge of the marble terrace with a background of shadows behind her, the flickering light of the torches and the blue rays of the moon alternately playing upon the vivid gold of her hair.
Very tall and slender, almost a child, she embodied in her graceful person the highest conceived ideal of aqueen.
She wore the quaint and picturesque garb of the country with unequalled grace. The great and heavy plaits of her hair hung on each side of her face down to her knees. The clinging folds of her straight and transparent kalasiris moulded every line of her figure; it was pure white and was held up over the shoulders by two silvery bands. It seemed to cling closely round her ankles and to slightly impede her movements, for she walked slowly and with halting steps. On her tiny feet she wore a pair of pointed sandals. In absolute contrast to Queen Maat-kha she had not a single jewel. Her arms, neck and bust were bare; on her head there was no diadem save that of her ardent hair, and in her hand she held the fitting sceptre to her kingdom of youth and beauty—a tall snow-white lily. Beside her there walked proudly a beautiful white panther, who fawned round her tiny hand and playfully rubbed himself against her knees.
She came close up to the Pharaoh, who seemed hardly able to stand, and held up her young face to his for the customary cousinly kiss. It was then that I saw how intensely blue were her eyes, and how deep the gold of her hair.
The next moment her voice, sweet and low, murmured, as Hugh reached the top of the steps:
“Welcome, oh, son of Ra! the beloved of Osiris, to the humble abode of thy kinswoman.”
And she, too, like her slaves, knelt down to kiss the hem of Hugh Tankerville’s garment.
“Then wilt thou not greet me as thy kinsman, princess?” he said as he raised her to her feet and waited for the cousinly kiss.
She stood before him and looked at him for fully ten seconds, while I could see that he was watching her with undisguised astonishment and admiration: then, resting her little hand very firmly on the head of her white panther, she said:
“If it is thy wish, oh, messenger of Ra.”
Fortunately I had a very tight hold of the mighty Pharaoh at that moment, for I doubt not that but for this and his own physical weakness, he would have made Hugh atone then and there for that cousinly kiss. His hand had once again clutched the dagger at his belt, and with a hoarse cry, like some wounded beast at bay, had tried to jump forward, but fell back panting in my arms.
Princess Neit-akrit had turned quietly to him.
“My kinsman is very sick. The journey must have been too fatiguing. Art thou his physician, oh, stranger?” she asked of me.
“I am deputed to alleviate the mighty Pharaoh’s sufferings,” I replied.
“Dost think thou wilt succeed?” she asked, looking at me with great wondering blue eyes.
“I can cure, I hope, the ailments of his body,” I replied with a smile.
“Then I will kiss thee, too,” she said, with a merry girlish laugh, “for if thou restore my kinsman to health, thou wilt become very dear to me.”
And I was given the top of a beautiful, smooth, young forehead to kiss—and I, prosy old Mark Emmett, was satisfied.
I hadfailed to notice, in my anxiety for the Pharaoh, how the two royal ladies had greeted one another; but now, at the gorgeous banquet with which our young hostess made us welcome in her palace, I saw that the Princess sat beside the Queen, and that she had commanded her torch-bearers to stand close behind her, so as to throw a flood of light upon herself and her royal guest. The two women were a strange contrast—both beautiful beyond the average: one in all the pomp and magnificence of her regal attire, and the voluptuous charm of her mature beauty; the other in something white and clinging, with no crown save that of her ardent hair, no ornament save that of her own youth.
On luxurious couches, covered with white and silver hangings, we all reclined round the table, on which were spread the most wonderful and aromatic delicacies this lavish land could produce: peacocks’ tongues and eggs of rare birds, petals of roses and lilies cooked in honey, and great crystal goblets filled with the rich wine of the soil—both red and white. All the while sweet little musicians crouched in various corners beside their tall crescent-shaped harps and sang us sweet songs while we supped, and pretty waitresses tempted us with dainty morsels.
The beautiful white panther lay at the feet of Neit-akrit, and she fed him with dates and figs, which she held for him between her teeth. The powerful creature would take the fruit from her lips as gently as a bird. Hugh and I sat opposite to her. It was impossible not to admire the beautiful girl before us, the most exquisite product of this lovely, exotic land. There was a magnetic charm about every one of her movements which recalled those of the panther beside her. After the first five minutes she had wrought hideous havoc in my dull old heart, and I was suddenly assailed with the wild temptation to make an egregious ass of myself. I was quite annoyed with Hugh that he did not seem very enthusiastic about her: he was surveying her as critically as he would have viewed a newly-unearthed mummy.
“Isn’t she lovely, Girlie?” I contrived to whisper once during the banquet.
He did not reply, but with an inward smile, which made his eyes twinkle with merriment, he quietly slipped his hand beneath his cloak and drew out a tiny box which he handed over to me. It contained the iridescent scarabæus, of which the little midnight swimmer had said that it would prove a subtle charm against Neit-akrit’s beauty.
“Don’t you want it?” I whispered again, astonished.
He shook his head, still smiling, and at that moment I looked up and saw Neit-akrit’s eyes, more blue and iridescent than the beetle’s wings, gazing across at Hugh with a strange, inquiring expression.
“What a beautiful jewel!” she said. Then, with the gesture of a spoilt child, “Wilt thou let me look at it?”
“Nay, Princess, it is no jewel,” said Hugh, hiding the box again under his mantle, “and thou must forgive if I cannot allow even thy dainty fingers to touch it. It is a charm and its subtle virtue might vanish.”
“A charm? Against what?”
“Against many serious evils and many grievous sins.”
“I do not understand.”
“I brought it with me from the foot of the throne of Ra, where a poor wandering soul, who had sinned deeply and suffered much, gave it to me when he knew that I was about to dwell among the fairest of the daughters of Kamt, so that it might preserve me from the same sin and the same suffering.”
“But wilt thou not tell me what those sins and those sufferings are?”
“Nay! thou art too young to understand, but I will tell thee the name of the wandering soul who gave me the blue charm. He was a sculptor, far famed in ancient Kamt, and his name was Amen-het.”
I gave Hugh a violent nudge, for I felt very much annoyed with him. To put it mildly, it was a singular want of good manners to rake up the terribly sad story of Amen-het, the sculptor, while partaking of the Princess’s lavish hospitality. Amen-het had undoubtedly been a fool, and was punished for his folly according to the barbarous law of this beautiful country; but since time immemorial men have committed follies of the worst kind for women far less attractive and fascinating than was the Princess Neit-akrit.
To begin with, she was very young; she may, in a moment of thoughtlessness, have expressed a vague wish to possess some lamps similar in design to those which burned in the sanctuary of Ra. The sculptor, like a fool, took her at her word and went there, where all the people of Kamt are strictly forbidden to go, within the inner sanctuary of the temple. Surely she could not be blamed for his folly, and no doubt she had suffered horribly when…
But at this point my brief reflections were interrupted by Princess Neit-akrit’s voice, truly the most melodious sound I had ever heard.
“How strange,” she was saying, while her blue eyes gazed as innocently as before, as unconcernedly across at Hugh. “I knew a sculptor once whose name was Amen-het, but he offended the gods by his presumption, and I know not what punishment they meted out to him. Perhaps it was his soul which thou didst meet before the judgment-seat of Osiris, oh, thou who sittest at the foot of His throne!”
“Perhaps it was. In that case the blue charm will save me from Amen-het’s presumption, and from the punishment meted out to him by the gods—for that was terrible!”
“Poor Amen-het,” she said sweetly, “I spoke to him once or twice. He was a clever sculptor.”
“But was too presumptuous, as thou sayest,” said Hugh, who seemed suddenly to have grown irritable. “I saw him before he was quite ready to stand before Osiris. His flesh had withered on his bones, his voice was choked within his throat, burning hunger and thirst had made a beast of him, and the carrion had begun to gnaw his living flesh.”
“Poor Amen-het,” she repeated, and she selected a large juicy date from the dish, and, holding it between her tiny sharp teeth, she called to her white panther, and the graceful, feline creature, as quiet as a kitten, took the ripe fruit from between her dainty lips.
I could see that Hugh was strangely irritated. He remained silent during the rest of the feast, in spite of the fact that the Queen made every effort to rouse him from his silence. As usual, the Pharaoh reclined, surly and silent, on his couch, which had been covered with a cloth of gold; obedient to my suggestion, he was taking only milk and left all the delicious fruit untasted. He avoided looking at the Princess or at Hugh; only when the story of Amen-het had been recounted, he laughed satirically to himself.
Long after every one had retired and the fairy palace was wrapped in sleep, Hugh and I wandered beneath the gigantic overhanging fuchsia trees. It was a beautiful night and we were both singularly wakeful. The lake lay peaceful in the moonlight and, descending the great steps to the foot of the sphinxes, we found a small boat moored close to our hand. Though the crescent-shaped little crafts are very difficult to manage at first, we enjoyed a row all round the beautiful island, which seemed like the enchanted domain of a fairy princess. Beneath the trees large white peacocks slept, their tails shimmering like streams of diamonds, while in the branches myriads of birds had built their nests. We disturbed a troop of white gazelles from their sleep in the tall grass and a family of marmosets in the branches of the doum; golden tench and carp swam all round our boat, not the least frightened at the clap of the oars, and opening their mouths for a crumb.
We did not speak much, and then only about the beautiful dumb objects round us. I must confess that a strange love for this picturesque land was beginning to entwine itself round my heart, and as our boat glided so peacefully between the large clumps of lotus and water-lilies, I liked to feel that all this beauty, this peace, this poetry was truly my own. Busy Europe, with its politics, its squabbles, its socialism, its trades-unions and workingmen’s clubs, seemed altogether another world now, different and unreal; even the old Chestnuts was becoming a dream, beside the glorious visions of marble terraces and alabaster halls which had become so real.
For once in my life I was not in complete harmony with Hugh. I wanted to talk of our journey, our poetic arrival, of our fair young hostess, with her large innocent eyes and her pet white panther; but he seemed moody, and I felt that my enthusiasm for beautiful Neit-akrit would not find an echo in his heart.
The first streak of dawn was visible in the east when we reached the palace steps again, tired yet refreshed with the midnight trip on the lake.
Our sandals made no noise on the white marble steps, and we kept in the shadow of the parapet, for we had no wish to be mistaken for midnight prowlers and rouse the slaves who guarded the palace.
All the lights had been put out, only the gilt roof glittered beneath the sinking rays of the moon. We skirted the palace, for the rooms which had been assigned to us opened out on to the broad terrace overlooking a garden of white roses. We were about to cross the garden, when suddenly Hugh put a hand on my arm and pointed to the terrace. Between the pillars which formed the entrance to our bedroom a figure stood holding back the heavy curtain. We could only see the graceful outline, clear and sharp against the bright light which burned within.
“Who is it?” I whispered.
“The Princess,” replied Hugh, as the figure detached itself from the gateway and glided slowly and cautiously across the terrace in the ghostlike, roseate light of dawn.
It was indeed the Princess Neit-akrit, alone and unattended; she had wrapped a veil close round her figure, but her head was bare, and the colour of her hair was unmistakable.
She came straight towards us and presently caught sight of us both. She stopped, looking round her as if she wished to flee, then she put a finger to her mouth and came up quite close to Hugh.
“Hush!” she whispered. “Dost wonder, I know, to see me here alone at this hour, without even Sen-tur by my side. And yet I came because I wished to speak to thee alone.”
“Thou dost indeed honour me,” said Hugh, quietly, while I made a discreet movement to retire.
“Tell thy counsellor he need not go,” she said. “I know that thou and he are one, and I am not ashamed of that which I would say.”
“Wilt go within then, Princess? The morning is cold.”
“Nay! what I would say will not take long; yet I could not sleep till I had told it thee. The night seemed oppressive. I wandered into the garden, and Isis led my steps to thy church. I thought thou wast asleep, and that I would sit beside thee, not waking thee, yet telling thee of this thing which lies so heavy on my heart. I thought to whisper it gently lest thou wake, to murmur it so that thou, half dreaming, shouldst hear my voice, and hearing it, dream on.”
She certainly had that indefinable charm—an exquisite voice—and both Hugh and I listened to her strange words, charmed by its sweet-sounding melody.
“Nay, Princess,” said Hugh, as she had paused; “sweet as the dream would have been then, I much prefer the reality, and as long as thou wilt speak I will listen.”
“I came to tell thee… that…”
There was a little catch in her throat, but she tried to conquer her emotion and put out both her hands in a pretty, almost childlike appeal.
“Ah, I know! some one has told thee evil of me, and I longed to speak to thee… about… about Amen-het.… They told thee that I am vain and cruel… but… but… wilt believe me if I say… that I am beset with calumnies… and…”
Hugh came a little closer and took one of her tiny, trembling hands in his, and there was no doubt that in his voice, too, there was a slight catch.
“Sweet Princess,” he said gently, “believemewhen I say that I have heard no calumny about thee which thy presence hath not by now dispelled.”
She turned her face fully up to his and asked:
“Dost truly mean what thou sayest?”
“I swear it,” he said earnestly.
“Nay! I will believe thee, for thou art great and good. I will believe thee if thou wilt look straight into mine eyes and if thou wilt kiss me between the brows, in token that thou art my friend.”
She raised herself on tiptoe, for Hugh Tankerville is very tall, and British, and stiff-backed. There was a curious, half-dazed look in his eyes as he looked down at the sweet face turned up to his. The veil had slipped down from her shoulders. The quaint Egyptian kalasiris, half transparent and clinging, gave her young figure the appearance of one of those precious idols which are preserved in European museums. A perfume of lotus blossom seemed to emanate from her, and about her whole being there was an exquisite savour of poetry and mysticism, mingled with truly human, charming womanhood.
For that brief moment I felt wildly, madly, stupidly jealous, and at the same time enraged with Hugh, who seemed to me so cold and impassive, when I would have given… well!… a great deal to stand in his place. At last he bent his tall six feet two inches and gave the kiss as she had begged.
The next instant she was gone and I had dragged Hugh away into our own room. A penetrating scent of lotus blossoms seemed entirely to fill it, and as we raised a lamp over our heads we saw that Hugh’s couch was one vast bower of the sweet blooms, covering pillow and coverlet; but from the table where he had put it before we strolled out earlier in the evening, the iridescent scarabæus, which was to guard him against the magic of Neit-akrit’s beauty, had disappeared.
Allthrough my stay in the beautiful land of Kamt I never found that its balmy, fragrant air acted as a soporific, and it became really wonderful with how little sleep we both contrived to keep up our health. That night, or rather morning, after our quaint little adventure, I hardly managed to close an eye, and I am sure that Hugh, who had as usual a room opening out of mine, was as restless as myself. I found the scent of the lotus oppressive and penetrating, and the memories it brought back to me very disturbing and harassing.
The sun was high in the heavens when I at last contrived to snatch a brief hour’s sleep, and when I woke it was to find that Hugh had stolen a march on me, and had already gone out. The morning looked perfect, and after my delicious bath I felt thoroughly rested and at peace with this picturesque world and its fascinating women. It was one of those mornings when a book and a cigar on a verandah facing the sea would have been perfect bliss in the dear old country. But on this beautiful morning in Kamt, the scent of flowers, the songs of birds, the exotic beauty of the land gave mind and body so much to enjoy that not even the cigar and the book were much missed.
I tried to pick my way through the labyrinth of alleys and walks to the terrace that faced the lake, and just as I stepped on to it I saw Hugh and Princess Neit-akrit there together.
She looked more lovely, I thought, by day than even she had been by moonlight. She was lying under a canopy of turquoise blue silk which vied in colour and brilliancy with the sky above it. Beneath it her hair looked like living copper, and her skin white and polished like the alabaster. Her beautiful panther lay at her feet, and Hugh stood on the steps which led up to the throne-like couch on which she reclined. Neither of them saw me, and I stood for a while looking at the dainty picture.
“I have oft wondered,” she was saying, “what lies beyond those hills. Ur-tasen says that there is naught but the valley of death, where foot of man ne’er treads, but where carrion beasts prowl at night, and vultures fly screeching overhead. When he talks like that my flesh creeps with horror, and for days I cannot bear to look upon those hills; then, a lovely morning comes like to-day, Osiris emerges in his golden barge more radiant than ever from out that valley of death, and then all day I long to follow him in his course and disappear with him behind the hills in Ma-nu, so that I might see the glories that lie beyond.”
I was debating with myself whether I should discreetly retire or interrupt thistête-à-tête, which my reason suggested was dangerous somehow to my friend.
“Thou who comest from the foot of the throne of Osiris,” she resumed, turning eagerly towards Hugh, “thou must know whither he wanders every night, whilst Isis his bride reigneth in the heavens. Wilt tell me what lies beyond the hills of Kamt?”
“Ur-tasen has told thee: the valley of death; the desert wilderness, where no man can live, no bird sing, nor flower blossom.”
“Ay! But beyond that?”
“Beyond it?”
“Yes! after death surely must come life again; after the darkness, light; after desolation, joy unspeakable. Oh! thou canst not know,” she added, stretching out her arms longingly towards the distant horizon, “how I long to break the hideous fetters that bind me, and when Osiris shines so brightly, the flowers smell so sweet, and the birds’ chorus of harmony fills the air, how I hate then the splendours of my palace, the marble halls and temples of Kamt, the very sight of the people almost worshipping at my feet, and long to run up those inaccessible hills and see what lies far away beyond this land, beyond the valley of death, beyond the pillars that support the vault of heaven. Wilt thou not tell me,” she pleaded, “or, better still, wilt take me there one night when Kamt is wrapped in sleep?”
Hugh looked almost wildly down at her, and then round him with that curious dazed expression which had puzzled me already last night. Then he caught sight of me and seemed relieved, for he said very quietly:
“Nay, Princess, it is not for me to teach thee the secrets of this earth. But here comes my counsellor; he is wise, and if thou wilt he will tell thee all about Osiris and the vault of heaven, and even of the land which lies beyond the gates of Kamt.”
She turned to me with a sweet smile, but I thought that there was a shade of disappointment in her eyes.
“It is always a joy to speak to the learned counsellor,” she said evasively, “and soon, when he has leisure, when the holy Pharaoh is cured of his ailments, he will no doubt teach me much which I do not know; and in the meanwhile I will go roaming with Sen-tur, and perhaps if I sit on his back he will carry me there, where foot of man doth not tread.”
She began playing with the panther, who seemed much disinclined for a game, and made sundry attempts at keeping his comfortable lazy position at her feet. But his mistress suddenly seemed in a teasing mood, for she tore a branch of roses from a great bush which stood in a vase close beside her and began to playfully prick with it the kingly Sen-tur on the nose.
Soon his majesty’s temper was up, and lazily at first, then more and more viciously, he made great dabs at the branch and then at Neit-akrit’s hand with his ponderous paw.
“A dangerous game surely, Princess,” said Hugh, after a while. “Sen-tur might lose control over his temper and might do thee an injury.”
“An injury? Sen-tur?” she said, with a laugh. “Thou speakest in jest, or thou dost not know Sen-tur. At a word from me he becomes as furious as the maddest bull in Kamt, and his roar is like the thunder, and at a whisper from me he will again be as quiet as a lamb. But never would Sen-tur’s wrath turn against his mistress.”
“Thou holdest him in bondage,” I said, with a somewhat clumsy attempt at gallantry, “as thou dost all men, high and low. Sen-tur is favoured indeed.”
“Sen-tur loves me, and I love Sen-tur,” she said drily; “he is the most precious treasure I possess, for he is wholly mine, and he has no cares, no affections, no thought save for me. He is dearer to me than the kingdom of Kamt.”
“It is a merciful decree of Ra, then,” said Hugh, with a smile, “that he sent me to take the kingdom of Kamt from thee and not Sen-tur.”
“Believe me,” she rejoined, looking steadfastly at him, “that all-powerful Ra showed his love for Neit-akrit the day that he decreed that the double crown of Kamt should never sit upon her brow.”
Somehow, in spite of this earnest assurance, I did not think that she was sincere, and I did not altogether understand the look which she gave to Hugh as she spoke. She certainly began to tease Sen-tur more viciously than ever, till the great creature fairly roared and foamed at the mouth.
Suddenly we heard the sound of trumpets and of drums, and from beneath the terrace we heard the usual cry which always preceded the arrival of an important messenger.
“Make way for the messenger of the city of Net-amen, and of Hesh-ka, its governor!”
“What does he want?” asked the Princess, with a frown, as half a dozen slaves and a group of attendants began to emerge from everywhere, and stood waiting to receive the emissary of the great city, with the full complement of honours prescribed by the complicated ceremonial of this country.
A young Egyptian, dark and good-looking, had come forward, and after kissing the ground before Princess Neit-akrit, had turned straightway to Hugh.
“To the beloved of the gods, to the son of Ra, do I bring greeting from the city of Net-amen.”
There was absolutely no doubt in my mind at this moment that the fair Neit-akrit frowned very darkly: the red of her lips almost disappeared, so tightly were they set, and poor Sen-tur received an ugly blow with the prickly branch right upon his nose.
“Greeting, oh, well-beloved,” resumed the messenger. “The council of the city of Net-amen, and Hesh-ka, our noble governor, desire to lay their homage at thy feet. To-morrow, if thou wilt deign to set thy foot within its gates, one hundred thousand inhabitants will line its streets to bid thee welcome. The maids of Net-amen will draw thy barge along the canal; the youths and athletes will fight as to who shall be the first to kiss the sole of thy sandals, and the city awaits thee with gifts of incense, gold and lapis-lazuli, for they will greet in thee the coming ruler of Kamt, the well-beloved whose presence has blessed the land.”
He began a long account of wonderful festivals and sacrifices which the important city was organising for the entertainment of the proposed guest. Hugh was barely listening to the messenger’s words; he, as well as I, was watching, fascinated, yet horrified, Princess Neit-akrit’s more and more dangerous game with her panther. She seemed to take a cruel delight now in pricking the beast with the thorn, for great drops of blood appeared on the snowy whiteness of his fur; and yet Sen-tur, apparently beside himself with rage, made no attempt to retaliate. I felt terribly helpless in case she did pursue her dangerous game too far, for I had no weapon about me, but looking up at Hugh I saw that underneath his cloak he was clutching his knife, ready to use it if emergency required.
The emissary had evidently finished his message, for now he knelt down with his head on the ground and said:
“Wilt deign to allow thy slave, oh, beloved of the gods, to touch with his lips the sole of thy foot?”
At this moment I heard a short, sharp cry from Princess Neit-akrit, and a roar more ominous than before: the next there was a bound and an agonised shriek which froze the blood in my veins. Sen-tur, goaded to madness at last by the merciless teasing, had turned and sprung upon the unfortunate messenger who was nearest to him, and before I or anyone else present had realised the full horror of the situation, the powerful beast was rolling the wretched man underneath him on the floor. I thought he was doomed, although after the first second of surprise Hugh and I had sprung to his rescue. But before we could reach the group where the powerful beast was, with mighty jaws, tearing bits of flesh from the shoulders and thighs of his victim, Neit-akrit was already by Sen-tur’s side.
With utmost calm she placed her tiny hand upon his collar, and said, in a quiet, gentle voice:
“Sen-tur! Sen-tur! come!”
And, unresisting, suddenly as gentle as a kitten, with great jaws still covered in blood which he was licking with a smothered growl, the powerful creature allowed her to lead him away; and when she once more took her seat beneath the turquoise blue canopy, he lay down with a final snarl at her feet.
I was hastily examining the arms, shoulders and thighs of the injured man. They were terribly lacerated by the monstrous teeth of the brute, and I whispered to Hugh that I thought in one instance amputation would be necessary.
I had never seen so dark a scowl on Hugh Tankerville’s face as I did then; he looked positively evil, and I was quite sorry for the poor little girl who, to my mind, was after all only guilty of thoughtlessness. Two shorn, yellow-robed medicoes had sprung up from somewhere: I directed them how to bandage the wounds, and ordered my patient to be removed to an airy room, where I could presently attend to him.
General gloom seemed to have settled on all those present; Neit-akrit was stroking Sen-tur’s head with a defiant look at Hugh.
“Wilt allow me to speak to thee alone?” he said abruptly.
To my astonishment she immediately ordered her slaves and attendants away, and when they had gone she said quite humbly:
“I know what thou wouldst say. Do not chide me; I could not bear it. I… I…” and great tears gathered in her eyes.
Then with sudden impulse, from out the folds of her dress she drew a short dagger and held it towards Hugh.
“Do thou do it,” she said, while great sobs choked her throat. “I know that that is what thou wouldst say. Sen-tur has sinned. Sen-tur must die! for perhaps now he might sin again. ButIcould not kill Sen-tur, for he trusts me, and he would not expect a blow from me.”
She was holding the dagger out towards Hugh, while he looked at her, astonished, as I was, by the quick and varying moods of this strange and fascinating girl.
“Do it quickly,” she said, “lest I repent; for, believe me, it is not of my own free will that I have asked thee to kill Sen-tur. I would sooner see him kill every one of my slaves,” she added naïvely, “than that harm should come to him.”
Then, as Hugh would not take the dagger from her, she placed it quietly at his feet, then threw her arms passionately round the panther’s neck, while great tears fell from her eyes onto his fur.
“Farewell, Sen-tur, my beauty, my loved one,” she whispered. “I know that thou art not afraid to die, for thou, like Neit-akrit, dost long for that glorious land which lies beyond the valley of death. Come back, Sen-tur, to me at nights, and tell me what thou hast seen. Sen-tur is ready, oh, beloved of the gods,” she added; “thou needst not fear, he will not even struggle. Make haste. I wish it.”
“Dost really wish me to kill Sen-tur?” asked Hugh at last.
“Yes, really! I wish it.”
“Why?”
“Because Sen-tur has sinned grievously, and sinning, will surely sin again. He hath tasted the blood of a slave, he liked the taste and will wish to drink again.”
“But will it not grieve thee to see Sen-tur die?”
“More than thou canst conceive,” she replied earnestly. “Sen-tur is my only friend, but it would grieve me even more if thou didst leave my presence now with evil thoughts of me in thy heart.”
She looked divinely pretty, this exquisite product of a strange and mystic land: quaint as one of those images on ancient tombs, dainty as the lotus blossom and roses in her garden. She was—my reason told me—flirting outrageously, desperately, with Hugh, even to the extent of endangering the life of innocent Sen-tur. Had she but known him as I did—the scientific enthusiast, blind even to such beauty as hers—she would have realised how she was wasting her time. In spite of her pretty speech, her sweet, appealing look, Hugh was singularly unresponsive, and it was in a very matter-of-fact, prosy way that he picked up the small dagger and gave it back to her.
“Thou must punish Sen-tur in the way thou thinkest fit. I am no good hand at killing beasts.”
“Thou dost confine thyself to killing women then,” she retorted with one of those sudden changes in her mood, which to me were so puzzling.
“Thou art too young to understand the purport of thy words,” rejoined Hugh, who had become very pale. “The motive which led me to kill Kesh-ta, thy slave, in the judgment-hall of Men-ne-fer, was one for which I have not to answer to any one, least of all to thee. But the hour is late, Princess; wilt deign to allow me to follow my counsellor? He will wish to visit the holy Pharaoh, and I would fain pay my respects to Queen Maat-kha.”
And having bowed to her, Hugh took my arm and quickly led me away from the terrace.
I wish I had been a more subtle reader of feminine character, for then, perhaps, I could have interpreted the look with which Princess Neit-akrit followed Hugh’s retreating figure.
Eh! you dull old Mark Emmett, what a difficult task you have set yourself! Do you really imagine that you can convey to the minds of strangers an adequate idea of a woman, young, exotic, voluptuous and divinely pretty, and with it all changeable, impenetrable as the waters of the lake?
I suppose if I had been born a woman I should have been able to understand the various moods of Princess Neit-akrit. As a mere straightforward male creature, I must confess that I was completely at sea.
Of course, originally, she must have hated the idea of any man—be he beloved of all the gods or not—coming between her and the crown of Kamt, which already she must have looked upon as her own.
She was so absolutely queen of this land by her beauty, her fascination, her wonderful personality, that it must have been terribly galling to her suddenly to see a stranger placed, in virtue of his mystic descent, immeasurably above her in the hearts of the entire population of Kamt.
So much I understood and appreciated. Neit-akrit was a woman; she would have been more than human if she had not resented the intrusion of the beloved of the gods. I suppose that she hated Hugh at first, hated his power over the people, hated the very messenger who knelt at his feet and brought homage to him from distant cities—homage which in future and in his presence was denied to her.
So, womanlike, seeing that a master was placed above her, she tried to make him her slave. Being superstitious, she had stolen the talisman which was destined to guard him against her fascination. Then she brought to her aid all the gifts which bountiful Nature had lavished upon her. Her exquisite voice became more melodious and more gentle as she whispered words of clinging, womanly humility into his ear; her blue eyes melted into tears when they met his. Alternately she tried to charm and to irritate him, to attract him by her tenderness and to repulse him by her cruelty.
Poor Hugh! I wondered how long he would be adamant. Inwardly I prayed that he might remain so always. If the beautiful Neit-akrit succeeded in her dangerous game of capturing his heart… well!… what could result but misery for him, since his word was pledged to Maat-kha?
Fortunately, so far, I had detected no sign of change in his frigid attitude towards her. She certainly seemed to have the power of irritating him and making him say—against his will, I am sure—some very unkind words to her.
But there! how could I guess what went on in the minds of these two young people whom Nature in a freakish mood seemed to have fashioned for one another? Both ardent, passionate, poetic, mystic, both as beautiful specimens of Heaven’s handiwork as it was ever granted to my eyes to see.
Princess Neit-akrit talked to me a great deal during the next few days, and I was fascinated with her strange questionings, the unaccountable and mystic longings she felt, in the midst of her ignorance.
“Tell me of that land beyond,” she would beg, and I did not know what to say. Was it for my clumsy hands to roughly tear asunder the veil which fifty centuries of priest-craft had woven, thick and dark, before the eyes of all the children of Kamt?
There was no moonlight one evening. The sky was heavily overcast, and after the evening banquet, when we followed her on to the terrace, Neit-akrit leaned against the marble balustrade and spoke as if to herself.
“How strange that Isis should veil her countenance when she might behold the beloved of the gods!”
“It is a sight she has oft witnessed, Princess,” said Hugh, with a laugh, “and therefore, probably, it has no overpowering charm!”
“Yes, of course! I know when thou didst dwell at the foot of the throne of the gods thou must have often seen the majesty of Isis herself, whose image up on the vault of heaven is all we poor mortals are allowed to see. Tell me about her.”
“Nay, Princess, there is naught to tell thee which thou dost not know thyself. Her beauty is all before thee in those lovely nights of Kamt when she shines upon sleeping Nature and throws diamond sparks upon the lake.”
She shook her head.
“Ah, then I am wiser than thou art, for I know something more about the goddess than merely her cold image up there.”
“Wilt tell me, Princess?”
Queen Maat-kha had remained within; she said that the night looked dark and cold, but personally I thought that she would have been wiser to look after her own property, which was being strangely and wilfully toyed with, and in grave danger of being stolen.
“I learnt it all in a dream,” began Neit-akrit, looking dreamily out towards the hills. “It was just such a night as this, and I could not rest, for the wind was whistling through the fuchsia trees, making each bell-shaped blossom tinkle like innumerable short, sharp sighs. It was a dream, remember! I rose from my couch and went out beneath the solitary alleys of the park; not even Sen-tur walked by my side. I felt unspeakably lonely and desolate, and the darkness weighed upon me like a pall. Suddenly I felt that some one… something took my hand, while a voice whispered, ‘Come!’ I followed, and the unseen hand guided me over the canals and cities of Kamt, above those hills yonder which mark the boundaries of the living world, and right across the valley of death, where, in the darkness, I heard the cry of the carrion and the moaning of the dying souls.”
She stood—a quaint, rigid, infinitely graceful image—dimly outlined in the gloom, slightly bent forward as if her eyes were trying to meet through the darkness those of Hugh fixed upon her. I could see his tall figure, very straight, with arms crossed over his chest, and I longed to take him away, far from this strange and voluptuous girl whose every motion was poetry and every word an intoxicating charm.
“I knew that the valley of death lay at my feet,” she resumed in the same monotonous, sing-song tone, dreamy and low. “I knew that all round me was desolation, sorrow and waste, but I did not see it, for my eyes sought the distance beyond, and what I saw there, far away, was so glorious and fair, that ever since my memory has dwelt upon that vision and my feet longed to wander there again.”
“What didst thou see?”
“I saw a bower of tangled flowers drooping beneath the sun, whose rays I thought I had never seen so glorious and so hot, and between the roses and the lilies, the laurel and the mimosa, innumerable birds chirruped and sang. The ghostly hand still led me on, and presently I stood among the flowers and saw that each little bird had a nest, and each by his side a mate; and beneath the tangled trees of fuchsias and acacias men and women wandered two by two. Their heads were close together, their arms were intertwined, even the trees above their heads mingled their branches and bent their trunks towards each other. The air was filled with sounds of whispers murmured low and sweet, of kisses exchanged, of fond sighs and endearing words. Then a great sorrow filled my heart, for I, whom men have called so fair, was all alone in this abode of love; no one stood near me to caress me, no one was whispering in my ear, and as I passed the young couples would pause a moment in their love-making and gaze at me with astonishment, whilst some of them would whisper, ‘Behold! ’tis Neit-akrit, Princess of Kamt! Is she not fair?’ And others would add, ‘Yea! so fair, so high and so mighty, but she knoweth not the abode of Isis!’ And all would sigh, ‘Alas! poor Neit-akrit!’ And I was so overwhelmed with sorrow that I fell on the soft dewy grass and cried bitter tears.”
I thought that Hugh must have felt very sure of himself to dare venture on such a subject of conversation with a woman who was beautiful and fascinating beyond words. He could not see her, for the night was very dark, only an outline and a warm glow round her head, as of living gold.
“Then,” she began once more, “while I cried suddenly I felt as if two arms encircled me, as if something undefinable and immeasurably sweet filled the air, and I was borne through the roses and the lilies to a bower of blossoms, which smelt more sweet than anything on earth. And there in the deep shadows, peeped at only by tiny eyes of birds, there dwelt the majesty of Isis herself, and suddenly in the presence of the goddess I ceased to be Neit-akrit, forgot all pomp and glitter, remembered only that I was young and fair, and when the arms which bore me had laid me down on the sweet-scented carpet, I and the owner of those arms knelt down and worshipped before the shrine of Isis.”
She paused, and for a few moments there was deep silence in the darkness; only the splash of the water against the marble steps sounded at regular intervals like a faint murmur from below.
“Dost wonder that ever since I have longed to visit that spot again; that I have begged Sen-tur to guide me there, for I believeheknows that I have prayed sweet Death to lead me through that dark valley, so that I might behold Isis once again and worship at her feet… with some one else… who would be a part… nay! the whole of my life… who would love! and yet not worship… ’tis I who would worship, who would live for a smile, who would die for a kiss. I, who would be coward and weak, and prouder of that weakness than of the double crown of Kamt. But the throne of Isis is hidden from my view. It stands before the poor and lowly. The rich princess may not enter there.”
Hugh said nothing, and presently we heard a footfall on the flooring, a frou-frou of silks and jewels, a last lingering sigh on the evening air, and she was gone, leaving behind her an aroma of exotic flowers, of delicious young ripe fruit, of voluptuous womanly charm, which in this strange land spoke to us of country and of home.
During the next few days the changeable and capricious girl spoke not a single word to Hugh. She seemed altogether to ignore his very presence, and all her charms, her fascinations were lavished with a free hand upon the holy Pharaoh. I had become deeply interested in my illustrious patient, and had even begun to sympathise with him in his mental troubles. He hated Hugh, who was the person on earth to whom I was most attached, and yet how could I help acknowledging that he had a just cause for hatred? But now Neit-akrit seemed to have set herself the task of making him forget every one of his troubles, and succeeded fully by lavishing all her powers of fascination and sweetness upon him. Once more I fell into myrôleof gooseberry, and although the Pharaoh insisted on my presence near him at all hours of the day, and even night, there were many moments when I thought it more prudent to keep out of earshot. It was a curious kind of lovemaking, and throughout those few memorable days a strange feeling would now and then creep into my prosy old heart at sight of the beautiful girl radiant with youth and health, side by side with the sickly, emaciated man with one foot in the grave.
He was as silent as ever, but the ugly frown had almost disappeared from between his eyes, and he too avoided being near Hugh or speaking to him.
Half that day and the next Neit-akrit sat beside him on the couch which overlooked the lake, and prattled to him in a merry way of a thousand nothings, which delighted him more than a chorus of nightingales; or she would take a harp and would let her slim young fingers glide gently along the chords, and sing to him sweet and quaint lullabies which soothed him into quiet, dreamless sleep.
Then when he slept she still remained by his side, softly humming her low monotonous tunes, ready to greet him with a sunny smile the moment he opened his eyes; if then I tried to speak to her she would place a warning finger to her mouth, and I sat and watched her while she watched the mighty Pharaoh, and once or twice I saw great tears rise to her eyes and trickle slowly down her cheeks. She puzzled me. I could not bring myself to believe that she was suddenly beginning to care for her ailing kinsman, who, but for his rank, must have been very unattractive to a young and beautiful girl: nor did I wish to admit to myself that I feared she was playing a cruel game, in order to arouse jealousy in Hugh.
As for old Girlie, he was strangely reticent about the Princess, and once or twice when I mentioned her name he very abruptly changed the subject. I thought that the excitement, or perhaps the oppressive air of Kamt, was beginning to tell on him. He looked strangely pale and worn, and I knew he did not sleep at nights. His hand felt hot and feverish, as it had done during those terrible years when he took it upon himself to complete his father’s work, and when I seemed anxious about him, he only laughed in a dry, sarcastic way, quite unlike his usually bright and sunny laugh.
Late one afternoon I at last contrived to be alone with him. He had received many deputations, made speeches and heard others all the morning; no wonder that he felt tired and glad mentally to quit Egypt and wander in England for a while with me.
“Maat-kha has expressed a wish,” he said very suddenly, “that we should be married in a month. The town of Tanis sent a deputation to-day to say that already they are prepared to receive us. I understand that the temple of Isis, in which the royalties of this land are always married, is in Tanis, and I have no wish to postpone my marriage.”
“Girlie, I wonder if you realise what a terribly earnest step you are taking. Though the rites may be pagan, marriage is always a sacred tie, and though you live away from your native land, your home must always be beside your wife, whoever she may be.”
“I know, old Mark, I know. I have thought more about the matter lately, but you must remember that there are things as sacred as marriage, and one of these is an Englishman’s word.”
“I don’t like to hear you talk like this, Girlie. I am afraid that in this wild adventure you are risking some of your happiness.”
“Oh, what tragedy, old Mark!” he said with a forced laugh. “My happiness? Why, it is complete! Have I not accomplished the aim of my life? Can I not now prove to the world that mad Tankerville and his fool of a son were neither visionaries nor liars? Am I not virtually king of the fairest land on earth? Why, old Mark, we came here for the sake of science, not for such paltry objects as my happiness.”
“That is all very well, Girlie; but with all your scientific enthusiasm you have got a great and good heart somewhere about you, and that does not seem to me to be quite satisfied.”
“It will be satisfied presently, old chap, when all these pageants, processions and welcomes are over and I can set to work to guide the destinies of these picturesque people, and gradually teach them the mysteries of an outer world. And when they have begun to understand, and my influence over them is absolutely established, then I can begin to destroy and pierce through those insurmountable barriers which divide them from Europe and modern civilisation. Then gradually we shall see my picturesque subjects take to wearing top hats and patent leather boots, and Queen Maat-kha look superb in a Paris gown. We shall build railways from Men-ne-fer to Tanis, and steamboats will ply the canals. There is plenty to dream of, old friend, never fear. My life will lack no excitement from now till its close, and there will be no room in it for sentiment or happiness.”
We had reached one end of the terrace, and close to us we saw the daïs, where I had left the Pharaoh asleep an hour before, with his young cousin softly cooing to him like a pigeon, and fanning his forehead gently with a large palm leaf. They neither of them heard our footsteps, and we both stopped with the same instinct of curiosity watching the strangely ill-assorted pair. The Pharaoh was awake and speaking, but some inward emotion had made his deepset eyes glow with unnatural brilliancy and taken every drop of blood from out his cheeks and lips. His mouth seemed parched, and his throat half choked as he spoke, while she, a radiant picture of youth and beauty, with fresh colour in her cheeks, a wondering look in her blue eyes, looked like a nymph beside a satyr.
“I do not often dream, Neit-akrit,” the Pharaoh was saying, “when thou sittest by my side. I think Anubis chases dreams away and renders my sleep as refreshing as death. But just now I had a dream.”
“Wilt tell me, cousin?”
“I dreamt, Neit-akrit, that I stood within the sacred temple of Isis, at Tanis. All round me the incense rose in great and dense clouds, so that I could not distinguish my people, but only dimly saw Ur-tasen, the high priest, with his shaven crown, robed in his most gorgeous garments, standing before me, with arms outstretched, as if pronouncing a blessing.”
“He blessed thee, Pharaoh, no doubt, for some great good thou hadst done to thy people, now that health is once again restored to thee.”
“So I thought at first, Neit-akrit, in my dream,” he replied, bending his head closer to her, “but soon Ur-tasen came up to me and whispered something which made my pulses thrill with a joy that almost made me faint. Ur-tasen had whispered that I should take thy hand.”
She turned her head away from him, and from where I stood I could see that every vestige of colour had left her cheeks, and that her lips were trembling and absolutely bloodless. I thought that we had no right to stand where we did, or to listen any longer to a conversation which was evidently drifting into very intimate channels, and I had just turned to go, when something in Hugh’s face made me stop. He, too, was gazing at the picture before us of the young girl and the sick, almost dying man, but in his eyes there was an expression I could not define.
“At first,” resumed the Pharaoh, in the same harsh, trembling voice, “I hardly dared to obey Ur-tasen. That I should take thy hand, at the foot of the throne of Isis, before all my people assembled there, seemed to me a joy so great that death would be easier to bear than the agony of so wild a happiness. But Ur-tasen waited, and I turned my head, and thou, Neit-akrit, wert standing by my side. Thy head, with its ruddy tresses, was hidden beneath the diadem which belongs to the rulers of Kamt, and from it down to thy tiny feet thou wast covered with a golden veil, through which I, in my dream, could see gleaming visions of thy blue eyes, which made me swoon with delight. Then Ur-tasen whispered again, and I took thy hand in mine, at the foot of the throne of Isis, before all my people assembled there… for they had come to see the mighty Pharaoh take Neit-akrit… as his wife.”
His voice broke almost into a sob, he had glided down from the couch on to his knees, and was lying half-fainting with the emotion which, weak as he was, was overmastering him, while his arms tremblingly sought to clasp the young girl. She was as pale as death. Her blue eyes stared at him, strangely terrified, with a look which, to me, seemed almost like loathing. But he could not see. His eyes were half closed. I am sure he was not conscious of his acts: his hands, trembling and clawlike, wandered round her shoulders and her waist, while he murmured more and more inarticulately:
“Thou art beautiful, Neit-akrit… and at the throne of Isis thy hair gleamed red and hot, and made my eyes ache with its glow: thy veil but partly covered thee… and when I looked upon thee… it seemed to me that I would forfeit my double crown of Kamt to be allowed to look again, and perhaps see thee smile. And thou didst promise to be my wife… and Isis smiled down upon me. And she whispered that in the night… when she peeped through the fuchsia alleys… and looked on the lilies and lotus blossoms… thou and thy loveliness would be wholly mine.”
He had fallen, half-fainting, upon the marble floor, and clung, still babbling inarticulate words, round her knees. Neit-akrit had stood up, rigid as a marble image: it were impossible to describe the look of horror and loathing with which she looked down on the unfortunate man at her feet.
“For God’s sake take him away from her, Mark!”
It was Hugh Tankerville’s voice whispering in my ear, but I hardly recognised it, so hoarse and choked was it. Astonished, I looked up at him, and suddenly