By the gods beloved

by Baroness Emmuska Orczy Orczy

“I brought joy and happiness when I came; upon thy head rest the burden of desolation and of sorrow.”

“I have not sinned,” he said, almost in entreaty; “Neit-akrit is still safe… a precious hostage in my hands,” he added, noting Hugh’s sudden look of infinite relief, “that which thou dost hold most dear, and yet hast overwhelmed with sorrow.”

“Name her not, Ur-tasen,” interrupted Hugh; “she is as pure and holy as the goddess whose image thou dost worship.”

“Nay, I had no evil thoughts of her,” replied Ur-tasen, quite humbly; “I was speaking of sorrow; thou canst not command so intangible a thing to keep clear of her path. Thou hast sworn to wed Maat-kha: as long as she lives, thy love for another can but give sorrow and shame. And Maat-kha will live! None saw her do the evil deed save thy counsellor!… will he accuse her before the awful judgment seat of Kamt?

“Thou hast conquered, oh, beloved of the gods,” added the high priest, with sudden strange eagerness. “See! I, who had defied thee and thy might, am the humblest of thy slaves; and yet, mighty as thou art, thou canst not, whilst thou art in the land of Kamt, change thy destiny and hers! Thou art wedded to a murderess, and Neit-akrit cannot sit upon the throne of Kamt. For thoughts of thee she will not wed another; sorrowing she will turn to the gods for comfort, and seek refuge against a guilty love in the vows of a priestess of Ra. Nay!… What canst thou do?… thou art mighty!… but it will only be when all the gods of Kamt are dethroned, and all their temples desecrated, that thou canst break the bonds which bind thee to Maat-kha, or place in Neit-akrit’s hand the sceptre of a queen.”

The high priest paused again, and once more his keen eyes searched those of Hugh. We held one another tightly grasped by the hand: I think we both felt that we were nearing the final crisis in our strange and weird adventure.

“Thou art mighty, oh, beloved of the gods,” whispered Ur-tasen, so low that we could scarcely hear; “thou art great, and the people of Kamt do worship thee… and I, the most powerful in the land, more powerful than any Pharaoh—for I rule over the dead as well as over the living—I do grovel at thy feet. Call forth the people of Kamt… let them come in hundreds and in thousands, and in tens of thousands! let them come to Men-ne-fer… to see the high priest of Ra kneeling humbly before the emissary of the gods, and with his hands tying the sandals upon the stranger’s feet.…

“It is a great and glorious festival,” he added with growing eagerness, seeing that Hugh and I had, in a flash, realised what was passing in his mind. “The most exquisite products of the land will decorate the temple of the god.… In the middle of the sanctuary, upon a throne of gold, surrounded by the priests of Ra, there will stand he who is beloved of the gods… the festival shall be great and glorious, but sorrow will be in the hearts of all the people of Kamt… for the son of Ra, the emissary of the Most High… will return to the heavenly land… from whence he came.”

Hugh did not speak; in his eyes I read the awakening of a great hope—an infinite peace and relief; he had guessed that the high priest, terrified and humbled, was, of his own accord, begging for that which Hugh even would never have had the power to force him to grant.

“But in the hearts of the people of Kamt,” added Ur-tasen, finally, “there will for ever dwell the memory of him who first in the judgment hall of Men-ne-fer spoke to them of mercy and of truth; and at even, when Isis is high in the heavens, and ties of home and love bring men and women together, they will talk of him who was beloved of the gods, who left the land beyond the blue vault of heaven to dwell for a while upon Kamt. Then Maat-kha, twice a widow, will weep shuddering over her sin, and Neit-akrit, Queen of Upper and Lower Kamt, will dispense truth and justice to her people, while dwelling on the fond memory as upon a happy dream—the memory to which will be attached neither sorrow nor shame.”