“In the names of all the gods and for the welfare of Egypt, we command you to take Rima the Babylonian, wife of the good god Pharaoh who is not, and her child, the Royal Princess Nefra, and to bring them to us, living if may be, that they may be delivered to King Apepi in fulfilment of our oath. Read and obey.”
“Can you read the Egyptian writing, Queen?” asked Kemmah. “If so, herein is a matter that concerns you.”
“Read you. I have little skill,” answered Rima indifferently.
So she read, slowly, that the words might sink into the mind of the Queen.
Rima heard and leaned against her, trembling.
“Why did I ever come to this land of traitors?” she moaned. “Oh! would that I were dead.”
“As you will be if you stay here longer, Queen,” said Kemmah bitterly. “Meanwhile it is the traitors who are dead, or some of them, and now tell their tale to Kheperra, your lord and mine. Come. Come swiftly, there are more villains left in Thebes.”
But Rima sank to the ground, swooning. As she fell Kemmah snatched the child from her and looked at Ru.
“It is good,” said the giant. “Now she can talk no more and I will carry her. But what of that sack? Must we leave it behind? Life is more than crowns.”
“Nay, Ru, set it on my head, for thus peasants bear their burdens. I can hold it with my left hand and clasp the child with my right.”