By the gods beloved

by Baroness Emmuska Orczy Orczy

I could scarcely believe my ears. Disappointment was so overwhelming that I almost shrieked with the agony of it. Already she had thrown up the sponge. Ambition had quickly swept aside the noble impulse which had made her plead for Hugh. And again Ur-tasen was triumphant, and I, helpless, left once more, after a brief ray of hope, in an uncertainty which was now still harder to bear.

“Before thou goest, Neit-akrit,” said Ur-tasen, “I would have thee swear to me that neither by look nor word wilt thou betray to any one the plans of the high priest of Ra.”

But Neit-akrit was silent; and Ur-tasen added quietly:

“Nay! perhaps thou needest not swear. An oath can so easily be broken, in the spirit if not in the letter. I think I can trust thee best when I say that, shouldst thou before dawn anon think of warning the stranger of what awaits him in the nook beside the sacred cataract, and his footsteps should not in consequence lead him thither, then, of course, no obstacle will stand between the beloved of the gods and Maat-kha, his bride. The priests of Isis, after the first hour of dawn, will take the body of the holy Pharaoh back into his palace, and swear that he died of sickness in his bed. Then the happy union can be consummated, and thou, Neit-akrit, the defrauded Princess of Kamt, canst in thy unselfish joy watch the happiness of Maat-kha, the murderess, in the arms of her beloved, the son of Ra, loved of all the gods: and I can swear to thee that he shall not know that the wife of his bosom is the murderess of her first-born until she hath borne him a son, the heir to all her vices. Farewell, Neit-akrit, future queen of Kamt!”

Oh! he was a cunning brute, was old Ur-tasen: again he had put his finger upon the most vulnerable spot in any female armour. Death to the loved one or his happiness in another woman’s arms: the great problem which has torn passionate women’s hearts in every country and beneath every clime, since the world began. Oh! that I could have read in Neit-akrit’s heart and known what she would do! How far and in what way did she care for Hugh? The alternatives seemed to me equally hopeless. If she had no love for him then, no doubt, ambition would seal her lips: she would remember the throne of Kamt, the glorious double crown, the homage of the people, and in the pomp and glitter forget the awful doom which alone could drive the usurping stranger from her path. But if she loved him, then what…? then the great and subtle puzzle of the eternally feminine, the mysterious workings of a woman’s heart, of a woman who, in spite of the high culture, the civilisation, the artistic refinement of this land, was pre-eminently exotic, passionate, semi-barbarous in her love and her hate. Nay! I knew not. How could I guess how she would act? Can man read the uncut pages of that romance of which a woman only shows him the title leaf?

But, in the meanwhile, the dangers round my friend seemed to close in tightly. Ur-tasen with subtle cunning had worked upon the loves, the jealousies of the two women who alone could save him, while I was still a caged prisoner, and the hours were swiftly speeding on.

Neit-akrit had disappeared, and Ur-tasen alone remained, quietly standing before the altar of the goddess, with arms outstretched, murmuring one of his pagan prayers, but as I still continued my weary watch, it seemed to me that newly awakened though still hidden life began to pervade the great and mystic temple. Within the main aisle the hanging lamps were lighted one after the other by—to me—unseen hands, and in the distance fresh young voices were rehearsing a bridal chant. Behind me in the outer precincts I could hear the muffled sounds of shuffling footsteps passing swiftly to and fro, and although from where I was I could see nothing save the brilliantly lighted and lonely sanctuary, yet I felt that around me there was bustle and animation: the preparations for the coming festivity.

I was carefully maturing my plans. Determined to keep well within the shadow of my prison, I would wait quietly for the best moment in which to attract Hugh’s attention. I was in no sense of the word nervous or agitated; I even began to feel strangely drowsy and had much difficulty in accomplishing my numerous yawns noiselessly. The atmosphere became insufferably hot and heavy; clouds of smoke from the incense and burning herbs were continually wafted in through the window of my prison, and this no doubt was beginning to make me stupid and sleepy.

Not knowing how time was going on, I had squatted into the angle of the wall, with my knees drawn up to my chin, in an irresistible desire for sleep.

Suddenly I heard heavy footsteps outside, slow and halting; trying to shake off my drowsiness, I raised my head and listened. Through the marble tracery of the gateway I could see the vague forms of a group of men, who seemed to be carrying something heavy between them. A great cloud of some peculiarly scented burning herb came in a great wave right through the window and seemed literally to strike me in the face, blinding me and making me gasp for breath. Drowsiness became intolerable, and yet when I sleepily reopened my eyes I saw the gigantic marble gateway slowly moving on its hinges.… This sight roused me from my lethargy for the moment.… My senses fully alive, I watched and waited.… It was pitch dark in the farther end of my cell, but I heard the footsteps within three feet of me, still shuffling and halting.… Through the open gateway the shadows appeared less dense: noiselessly on my hands and knees, keeping my shoulder close to the wall, I crawled towards the opening.