By the gods beloved

by Baroness Emmuska Orczy Orczy

She spoke very quietly, in that same monotonous, sing-song way which is the inalienable characteristic of this most ancient language. Ur-tasen, I think, was completely taken aback by her unexpected defence of Hugh, and probably the first inkling that she might prove his enemy instead of that of the stranger penetrated into his scheming mind. I, from where I watched, felt a sudden wave of hope sweep over me, and of remorse for the wrong I had done the beautiful girl by suspecting her in my thoughts. I experienced an overwhelming desire to shout a triumphant shout at our enemy, for I felt that in Neit-akrit now I should have a powerful ally.

There had been a long pause after the Princess had finished speaking. I imagine that old brute was meditating as to what his next tactics should be. At last he said very calmly:

“Thou speakest with wondrous ardour, Neit-akrit. Hath the handsome presence of the stranger made thee forget that he has usurped thy crown? The gods commanded me to act as I did act, to hold my peace whilst Maat-kha and the holy Pharaoh fought out their last and deathly quarrel, and to speak their decrees to the murderess when tardy remorse had at last penetrated her soul.”

“Nay, Ur-tasen!” she said, “blaspheme not, and take not the name of the gods of Kamt in so unholy a cause!”

“Who art thou, girl,” thundered the high priest in his most commanding accents, “who darest to upbraid the high priest of the Creator?”

“I, Neit-akrit, Princess of Kamt,” she replied proudly, “I, who dare to stand here and defy thee. Defy thee to do thy worst.… Ay! thou comest here in the temple of Isis, and in the guise of thy high and solemn priesthood thou lendest thy hand, thy mind, both of which thou hast vowed to the service of the gods, to a deed so base and dark that, methinks, Osiris will not rise to-morrow beyond the hills of Kamt, lest the very atmosphere, through which penetrate his golden rays, be polluted by thy treachery. Nay! prate not to me again thy thrice-told tale that thou didst so monstrous a thing for me! I tell thee, man, that Neit-akrit’s foot would never ascend the steps of a throne rendered slippery with blood, but that her first act of justice in this land, since Maat-kha its Queen has forfeited life and crown by her unholy deed, will be to denounce thee and thy accomplice before the people, and for ever crush that power which thou darest to measure against the beloved of the gods.”

Thank God, and all his saints, the beautiful girl was proving true! It mattered not now whether I was free or a prisoner. Hugh, in any case, was out of danger, and my deliverance would follow in natural sequence; already I was sending up a prayer of heartfelt gratitude to Him who rules all our destinies, and indulging in less Christian-like sentiments with regard to the discomfited foe, when his loud and derisive laughter suddenly dispelled these first glimpses of hope.

“Ha! ha! ha! Neit-akrit, Princess of Kamt! How strange and laughable are thy thoughts! Didst really think thou couldst pit thy woman’s wit against that of him who has for thirty years guided the destinies of Kamt? Wouldst denounce him, dost thou say? To whom, fair Princess? and for what? Hast strength to wield the mighty clapper which calls the people of Tanis to the temple, or might to shriek that those same people, mad, blind and deaf with joy, should hear, and, hearing, come rushing to the sanctuary of Isis to find—what? The dead body of a murdered Pharaoh? Where is it?… The holy Pharaoh is sick, and in the inner precincts of the temple, to which his footsteps led him, ailing and wandering… the priests of Isis are busy lavishing their skill and care upon him. There are twenty of these within my call now, who are ready to swear to the people of Kamt that, though sick, the Pharaoh lives.… And the people of Kamt, who left their rejoicings in answer to the wild shrieks of a woman, will return to their homes, their dancing and their music, with a puzzled and perhaps sad shake of the head, saying, ‘Princess Neit-akrit, of the house of Usem-ra, the beautiful, is no longer pure; madness has caused her tongue to lie, at the very foot of the throne of Isis, desecrating the temple of the goddess.’ And some, no doubt, with a shrug will add: ‘Madness which cometh of love for the stranger, unhappy love for him who will have none of her, since he will wed Maat-kha, anon.’ ”

“Hold thy peace, Ur-tasen. I forbid thee to speak of these things.”

“Nay! I will not hold my peace, Neit-akrit, Princess of Kamt, thou who didst dare say that thou wouldst defy me! Didst think that it were so easy to circumvent the plans of Ur-tasen, the high priest of Ra? Didst think I should allow thy girlish sentiments to upset what I have thought and dreamed of ever since the stranger has usurped my power? Go and strike the metal gong, Neit-akrit, go and summon the people of Tanis. Derision and contempt await thee, and thou wilt not help the stranger withal.”