“This man is not yet sped,” said Bes. “Let us look upon his face,” and he turned him over, and stretched him there upon the sand with the arrow standing two spans beyond his corselet.
“Why,” said Bes, “this is a certain High one with whom we had dealings in the East!” and he laughed thickly.
Then the Great King opened his eyes and knew us and on his dying features came a look of hate.
“So you have conquered, Egyptian,” he said. “Oh! if only I had you again in the East, whence in my folly I let you go——”
“You would set me in your boat, would you not, whence by the wisdom of Bes I escaped.”
“More than that,” he gasped.
“I shall not serve you so,” I went on. “I shall leave you to die as a warrior should upon a fair fought field. But learn, tyrant and murderer, that the shaft which overthrew you came from the black bow you coveted and thought you had received, and that this hand loosed it—not at hazard.”
“I guessed it,” he whispered.
“Know, too, King, that the lady Amada whom you also coveted, waits to be my wife; that your mighty army is destroyed, and that Egypt is free by the hands of Shabaka the Egyptian and Bes the dwarf.”
“Shabaka the Egyptian,” he muttered, “whom I held and let go because of a dream and for policy. So, Shabaka, you will wed Amada whom I desired because I could not take her, and doubtless you will rule in Egypt, for Pharaoh, I think, is as I am to-day. O Shabaka, you are strong and a great warrior, but there is something stronger than you in the world—that which men call Fate. Such success as yours offends the gods. Look on me, Shabaka, look on the King of kings, the Ruler of the earth, lying shamed in the dust before you, and, accursed Shabaka! do not call yourself happy until you see death as near as I do now.”