Then Ur-tasen rose and delivered judgment.
“Kesh-ta! Kesh-ta! Kesh-ta! thou art accursed! Thy crime is heinous before the gods! Thy very thoughts pollute the land of Kamt.
“Kesh-ta! Kesh-ta! Kesh-ta! thou art accursed. Be thy name for ever erased from the land that bare thee. May the memory of thee be cast out of the land, for thou art trebly accursed.
“Kesh-ta! Kesh-ta! Kesh-ta! thou are accursed! The gods decree that thou be cast out for ever beyond the gates of Kamt, into the valley of death, where dwell neither bird nor beast, where neither fruit nor tree doth grow, and where thy soul and body, rotting in the arid sand, shall become a prey for ever to the loathsome carrion of the desert.”
Kesh-ta’s answer to this terrible fiat was one loud and prolonged laugh. I felt almost paralysed with the horror of the scene. My mind persistently conjured up before me the vision of the lonely desert strewn with whitening bones, the vultures and screeching jackals, and the loathsome cannibal who once had been just such a living, breathing, picturesque man as these now before me. The woman’s crime was horrible, but she was human, and above all, she was a woman. Trouble seemed to have unhinged her mind, and the thought to me was loathsome that so irresponsible a being should suffer such appalling punishment.
Already Ur-tasen had handed up to the Pharaoh the document that confirmed the awful sentence, and the sick, almost dying, man prepared, with trembling hand, to give his royal assent to the monstrous deed, when, in a moment, Hugh was on his feet: he had shaken off the torpor, which, with grim horror, had also paralysed his nerves, and drawing his very tall British stature to its full height, he placed a restraining hand on that of the priest.
“Man!” he said in loud tones, which went echoing through the vastness of the building, “where is thy justice? Look at that woman whom thou hast just condemned to tortures so awful which not even thou, learned as thou art, canst possibly conceive.”
The judges and the jury had one and all risen from their seats and were staring awestruck at Hugh, who at this moment, tall and white amidst these dark sons of the black land, looked truly like some being of another world. The Pharaoh had, after the first moment of astonishment, quietly shrugged his shoulders, as if he cared little what the issue of this strange dispute might be between the stranger and the all-powerful high priest. Ur-tasen alone had preserved perfect composure and dignified solemnity. Quietly he folded his arms across his chest and said:
“I, who am vowed to the service of Ra, am placed here upon earth that I might enforce obedience to his laws.”
“Nay! not to the word, man, to the spirit,” rejoined Hugh. “Remember Ra’s decree transmitted to Mena, the founder of this great kingdom, through the mouth of Horus himself:—‘Be just, oh, man! but, above all, be merciful!’ ”