And now a great groan went up to heaven from the lips of those who hearkened. Only Meriamun spoke thus:
“And yet the Apura are gone, for whose sake, ye say, came the plagues. They are fled, but the curse remains, and so shall things ever be with us while yon False Hathor dwells in Khem.”
CHAPTER III.
THE BED OF TORMENT
It was nightfall, and Pharaoh sat at meat and Meriamun sat by him. The heart of Pharaoh was very heavy. He thought of that great army which now washed to and fro on the waters of the Sea of Weeds, of whose number he alone had lived to tell the tale. He thought also of the host of the Apura, who made a mock of him in the desert. But most of all he brooded on the tidings that the messenger had brought, tidings of the march of the barbarians and of the fleet of the Aquaiusha that sailed on the eastern stream of Sihor. All that day he had sat in his council chamber, and sent forth messengers east and north and south, bidding them gather the mercenaries from every town and in every city, men to make war against the foe, for here, in his white-walled city of Tanis, there were left but five thousand soldiers. And now, wearied with toil and war, he sat at meat, and as he sat bethought him of the man whom he had left to guard the Queen.
“Where, then, is that great Wanderer, he who wore the golden harness?” he asked presently.
“I have a tale to tell thee of the man,” Meriamun answered slowly, “a tale which I have not told because of all the evil tidings that beat about our ears like sand in a desert wind.”
“Tell on,” said Pharaoh.
Then she bent towards him, whispering in his ear.
As she whispered, the face of Pharaoh grew black as the night, and ere all the tale was done he sprang to his feet.
“By Amen and by Ptah!” he cried, “here at least we have a foe whom we may conquer. Thou and I, Meriamun, my sister and my queen, are set as far each from each as the sky is set from the temple top, and little of love is there between us. Yet I will wipe away this blot upon thy honour, which also is a blot upon my own. Sleepless shall this Wanderer lie to-night, and sorry shall he go to-morrow, but to-morrow night he shall sleep indeed.”