“Remember, too, oh, well-beloved of the gods, that same decree which sayeth:—‘Let no man shed the blood of man, in quarrel, revenge, or any other cause, for he who sheddeth the blood of man, his blood, too, shall be shed.’ ”
“But Kesh-ta is irresponsible, half deprived of her reason by sorrow and the terrible mutilation which the hand of an inhuman slave-driver inflicted upon her. To throw a human creature in such a state in the midst of an arid wilderness without food or drink, as a punishment for a crime which her hand committed, but not her mind, is barbarous, monstrous, cruel, unworthy the great people of Kamt.”
“Let no man shed the blood of man,” repeated the high priest, solemnly, “in quarrel, revenge, or any other cause. Hast mission, oh, beloved of Osiris, to upset the decrees of the gods?”
“Nay! I am here to follow the laws of the gods, as well as all the people of Kamt, but thou, oh, Pharaoh,” he added, turning to the sick man, “knowest what physical ailments are, knowest how terrible they are to bear. Think of the moments of the worst pain thou hast ever endured, and think of them magnified a thousandfold, and then thou wilt fall far short of the slow and lingering torture to which thou wouldst subject this half-crazed woman.”
“Let no man shed the blood of man,” repeated the high priest for the third time, with more solemnity and emphasis, for he noticed, just as I did, that Hugh’s powerful appeal, his picturesque—to them, mysterious—presence was strongly influencing the judges and the jury and all the spectators. One by one the pink lotus blossoms were lifted upwards, the judges whispered to one another, the men ceased to buffet and jostle the unfortunate woman.
“Oh, ye who are called upon to decide if a criminal be guilty or not,” adjured Ur-tasen, stretching his long gaunt arms towards the multitude, “pause, before you allow cowardly sentiment to mar your justice and your righteousness. Who is there among you here who hath not seen our beautiful Princess Neit-akrit? Who hath not gazed with love and reverence upon the young and exquisite face which Isis herself hath given her? And who is there among you who, remembering her beauty, doth not shudder with infinite loathing at the thought of that face disfigured by the sacrilegious hand of a low-born slave, of those eyes rendered sightless, of the young lips stilled by death? Oh, well-beloved of Osiris,” he added, turning again towards Hugh, “from the foot of the throne of the gods perchance thou didst not perceive how exquisitely fair is this greatest of the daughters of Kamt whom thy presence hath deprived of a throne. Is not thy godlike sire, whose emissary thou art, satisfied? And in addition to wrenching the double crown of Kamt from her queenly brow, wouldst take her life, her smile, her sweetness, too?”
Ur-tasen, with wonderful cunning, had played a trump-card, and no doubt poor old Hugh was in a tight corner. His position towards the defrauded princess was at best a very ticklish one, and on the principle that the son of Ra could do no wrong, it was imperative that not the faintest suspicion should fasten on him that he bore any ill-will towards his future kinswoman. I wondered what Hugh would do. I knew my friend out and out, and there was that in his face which told me plainly that the unfortunate Kesh-ta would not be “cast out” from the gates of Kamt.
There must have been some subtle magic in the name of Neit-akrit, for Ur-tasen’s appeal had quickly and completely done its work. One by one the lotus blossoms had again been dropped, and the judges simultaneously repeated:
“Death! Death! Death!”
The wretched woman alone among those present seemed not to take the slightest interest in the proceedings. She crouched in a heap in the centre of the hall, and the moonlight showed us at fitful intervals her great, wild eyes, her quivering mouth, and the hideous wound made by the cruel hand of Fano-tu.