“Then she would set to work to demoralise all the priests,” said Hugh, with a laugh, “and finally upset the gravity of the high priest. I must find her a husband, Mark; the cares of maternity will sober her soon enough. I wish you would take her off my hands.”
The next day, at a solemn council, at which the Queen, Ur-tasen and ourselves were present, and which was held within the precincts of the temple of Ra, the high priest seemed entirely to have forgotten the events of the night. He greeted Hugh with solemn and dignified respect, and it was impossible to read on his parchment-like face what his thoughts were with regard to the beloved of the gods. I could not make up my mind whether he did or did not believe the story of Ra and of the soul of Khefren, and at times I would see his shrewd eyes fixed upon Hugh and myself with an expression I could not altogether define. Somehow I mistrusted him, in spite of the fact that his manner towards Hugh, throughout the council, was deferential and respectful, even to obsequiousness. Hugh, I could see, was on his guard and spoke little. Affairs of finance were mostly discussed. It evidently was Ur-tasen’s business to collect the reports of the governors and officials on matters agricultural, financial or religious, and to lay them before his sovereign. He seemed to be the “Bismarck” of this picturesque land, and to my mind it was unlikely that he meant to share the power which he had wielded for so long with any stranger, be he descended from the heavens above or not, and in the great trial of the unfortunate slave he had been publicly and absolutely discomfited.
At the same time, whatever might be the game he meant to play, he hid his cards well for the present, and neither made suggestion nor offered criticism, without referring both to Hugh.
Queen Maat-kha, attired in her sombre yet gorgeous black, looked more radiant and beautiful than ever. She made no effort to hide the deep and passionate love she felt for her future lord; she had probably heard of the episode of the night, but, if she had, Hugh’s daring action had but enhanced her pride in him.
Most of the day was again spent in visiting temples and public buildings, and in receiving various dignitaries of the city. The representatives of various crafts and trades came in turn to offer to the beloved of the gods some exquisite piece of their workmanship, or object of art, fashioned by their hands: goldsmiths’ and jewellers’ work, smiths’ or turners’ treasures, which, I felt, would one day adorn the cases of the British Museum, and the barbarous splendours of which were a veritable feast to the eye.
We did not see the sick Pharaoh throughout the whole of that day. Once or twice we caught sight of his rose-coloured litter, with its gorgeous crown of gold, being borne along among the acacia alleys of the park, and we heard his harsh, sarcastic laugh echoing down the alabaster corridors; but he took no notice of either Hugh or myself, and did not appear at either council or reception. The mighty Pharaoh was sick unto death, and men with shaven crowns, in long green robes—the representatives of the medical profession of Kamt—were alone admitted to his presence.
Late that night we sat at table in the vast supper-hall. At the head of it, on a raised daïs covered with heavy folds of rich black tissue, Queen Maat-kha sat, with Hugh by her side. I was at her right, and behind each of us a tall swarthy slave waved a gigantic ostrich feather fan of many colours, stirring the air gently over our heads. Through the massive alabaster columns there stretched out before us the bower of palms and acacias, among which the newly-risen moon threw dark and mysterious shadows. On the marble floor there stalked about majestic pink flamingoes, while around the columns fair musicians squatted, drawing forth from their quaint crescent-shaped harps sweet and monotonous tones. Only one lamp, low and dim, in which burned sweet-scented oil, illumined with fitful light the hall in which we sat, together with the vessels of gold and exquisite fruit which littered the table, while around us dainty maidens flitted, filling and refilling our goblets with aromatic wines from great stone jars, which they carried on their graceful heads: their smooth dark skins glittered at times like bits of old carved ivory. I confess that in the midst of this gorgeousness and plenty I was just thinking how delightful a good cigar would be, when, quite involuntarily—for I was gradually training myself to become a very efficient gooseberry—I caught a few words which Queen Maat-kha was whispering half audibly to Hugh.
“Art thou not happy then with me?”
Hugh whispered something in reply, which I did not catch, but which evidently was not altogether satisfactory, for she shook her head and said:
“Then why dost thou wish to go? I would fain pray the gods to bid time stand still and Osiris to cease his daily wanderings on the vault of heaven. I but long that day should follow day in this same sweet, unvarying monotony.”