“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: