By the gods beloved

by Baroness Emmuska Orczy Orczy

Then, as she did not reply, but stood like an image of deep thought, with her golden head bent, he added:

“Hadst thou reflected, when thou didst venture to threaten and upbraid me, that thou wast within the precincts of a temple of Kamt, that in every nook, every corner of the gigantic building, the priests of Isis, and those of Ra, those of Horus and those of Osiris, are there lurking ready to answer the high priest’s beck and call? Go up the steps, Neit-akrit, which lead to the ponderous gong, take the mighty clapper in both thy hands, and I tell thee that before metal touches metal thou and thy soul will have fled to a land whence thou canst not return to thwart the will of the high priest of Ra, and a memory of something young and beautiful, the remembrance of a lock of golden hair, will be all that will remain in the land of Neit-akrit, Princess of Kamt.”

I was glad that he had chosen to give this timely warning to the Princess, for I personally had been ready to shout to her, signifying my presence, and trusting to her wit and power to get me out of my difficult position. The mention of a host of shaven priests, hidden I knew not where, threw cold water upon my ardour, and I gnashed my teeth lest my British temper should get the better of me, and lest through the bars of my prison I should be impelled to hurl an ineffectual, if to me convincing, malediction against the unscrupulous and treacherous blackguard who was hemming us in all round.

“It was because I knew this, Ur-tasen, that I did not shout to the people of Kamt the moment I saw the murderous deed and realised the blackness of thy treachery,” said Neit-akrit, quietly. “I did not see the Pharaoh die. I came into the temple alone at the very moment when his body, after a final convulsion, rolled rigid upon the floor. Then I caught sight of thee; the flickering light of the lamp illumined thy face, and I knew that thy thoughts were evil. Silently I waited and listened; heard of thy villainy and Maat-kha’s weakness, and trusted to the gods to give power to my words, to turn thee from the dark path, before it be too late.”

I thought that she looked round her as if realising for the first time the loneliness of her position. Certainly these last few words showed decided signs of coming weakness, and my awakening hopes began to give way to a creeping feeling of disappointment. She was, of course, entirely at the mercy of an unscrupulous and daring man, whose sacred office gave him every power and opportunity of suppressing, temporarily or permanently, every inconvenient enemy. Personally, I thought that his last threat had been a bluff; he would surely not have dared to put Princess Neit-akrit entirely out of the way at the same time as the Pharaoh. She was the idol of the male population of Kamt, and suspicion might perhaps fasten uncomfortably upon the high priest and his deacons. At the same time, undoubtedly, Neit-akrit’s life was doubly precious if she really meant to help Hugh. The question which agitated my mind was, Would she care to thwart the high priest, at risk of some terrible retaliation on his part? Of course I did not understand her nature. How could I, a prosy Britisher, read the thoughts and feelings of so curious and ardent a temperament? Some time ago I had mistrusted her; then, a curious jealous feeling, of which I am heartily ashamed, made me turn against her when I saw how completely she had taken possession of Hugh’s heart. Both these feelings had in their turn overclouded my brain as to her real character, and I really was no judge as to whether she hated Hugh as a usurper, or if she cared for him. She was impulsive and capricious, sensuous and ardent, that I knew. Perhaps it had been mere impulse which had dictated to her to admonish, threaten and warn Ur-tasen, and to save Hugh if she could; that impulse had perhaps died out again, and visions of the throne rendered vacant for her by the Pharaoh’s, Maat-kha’s and ultimately Hugh’s death, chased nobler thoughts away from her mind. She did not speak for a long time, and Ur-tasen stood and watched her with arms folded across his chest, his whole attitude one of scorn and command.

“The hours slip by, Neit-akrit, on the winged feet of time,” he said with pronounced sarcasm. “Hast forgotten that within the next two hours the emissary of Osiris, the son of Ra, he who hath made us all happy and rejoicing, will wed Maat-kha our Queen, the widow of Hor-tep-ra? Hast forgotten that at the marriage ceremony, amidst all that are there, among all those who are fair in the land, there must be one who is fairer than all? Thy women await thee, no doubt, ready to deck thee with the snow-white robes which befit thy beauty and thy innocence. Nay!” he added with sudden softness, “thou art beautiful above all the daughters of Kamt, the perfume of thy hair sends delicious intoxication even through my shrivelled old body. Thou art fair, so fair that I would fain see the double crown of Kamt upon thine ardent hair. To accomplish this I plotted and I planned. Thou art a child and dost not understand. Leave thy destiny, the destinies of Kamt, in the hands of him whose firm will can guide them. Believe me, if in return thou wilt but smile on him and tell him thou art satisfied, he will be content.”

She did not reply, and he added pleadingly:

“I did it for thee, Neit-akrit! In order that I with mine own hands might place the crown of Kamt upon thy golden hair, in order that none should rule over thee, that thou shouldst be queen indeed, as thou art queen only by thy beauty and by thy smiles. Tell me, art satisfied?”

And very quietly she answered:

“I am satisfied!”