“We stood still awhile, staring at each other, and my heart was full of doubt and fear. Once we were in this man’s power, what might not befall us? Or rather what might not befall you, O Queen, and the royal child, since it is true, Queen, that for myself I cared and care little.”
“I know it, Kemmah beloved,” answered Rima. “But to your tale. What happened?”
“This, Queen. Of a sudden Tau the Messenger seemed to grow uneasy.
“‘This place is quiet and lonely,’ he said, ‘yet certainly I feel as though we were being watched.’
“Now, Queen, we stood back from the private quay by the single palm that stands in the open place, whither we had withdrawn when we began to talk, for there we could not be seen from the river and I knew that none could overhear us. In the hollow to my left stands that old shrine surmounted by the shattered statue of some god, which once, it is said, was the gateway of a fallen temple; the same, Queen, in which you often sit.”
“I know it well, Kemmah.”
“This shrine, Queen, was still half hidden by the morning mist, and although it was out of earshot, Tau gazed at it earnestly. As he gazed the mist departed from it like a lifted veil, and following his glance, I saw that the shrine was not empty, as I had thought. For there, Queen, kneeling in it as though lost in prayer, was an aged man. He lifted his head and the full light fell upon his face. Lo! it was the face of the holy Roy, my great-uncle, somewhat changed since last I had seen him many years ago when he gave me the half of the broken amulet, but without doubt Roy himself.”
“‘It seems that here also dwells a hermit, Lady Kemmah, as well as in the shadow of the pyramids,’ said Tau, ‘and one whom I think I know. Is yonder man perchance the holy Roy, Lady Kemmah?’
“‘The holy Roy and no other. Why did you not tell me that you had brought him with you on your ship? It would have saved me much trouble of mind. I will speak with him at once.’
“‘Aye, speak with him and satisfy your heart as to whether I be a true man or a false, Lady Kemmah.’