“Yes, doubtless fear moved him—or some other passion. Yet, Beloved, put that thought from your heart as I do. When you are Pharaoh you will learn that a monarch is a slave to the people and to the law. Breathe but his name in love, and never will you see him more till you meet before Osiris.”
Tua hid her eyes in her hands for a moment, then she glanced up and there was another look upon her face, a strange, new look.
“When I am Pharaoh,” she answered, “there are certain matters in which I will be my own law, and if the people do not like it, they may find another Pharaoh.”
Asti started at her words, and a light of joy shone in her deep eyes.
“Truly your heart is high,” she said; “but, oh! if you love me—and another—bury that thought, bury it deep, or he will never live to see you placed alone upon the golden seat. Know, Lady, that already from hour to hour I fear for him—lest he should drink a poisoned cup, lest at night he should chance to stumble against a spear, lest an arrow—shot in sport—should fall against his throat and none know whence it came.”
Tua clenched her hands.
“If so, there should be such vengeance as Egypt has not heard of since Mena ruled.”
“Of what use is vengeance, Child, when the heart is empty and the tomb is sealed?”
Again Tua thought. Then she said:
“There are other gods besides Osiris. Now what do men call me, Mother? Nay, not my royal names.”