Then he threw his arms wide and died.
We called to soldiers to bear his body and having set the pursuit, with that royal clay entered into Amada in triumph. It was not a very great town and the temple was its finest building and thither we wended. In the outer court we found Pharaoh lying at the point of death, for from many wounds his life drained out with his flowing blood, nor could the leeches help him.
“Greeting, Shabaka,” he said, “you and the Ethiopians have saved Egypt. My son is slain in the battle and I too am slain, and who remains to rule her save you, you and Amada? Would that you had married her at once, and never left my side. But she was foolish and headstrong and I—was jealous of you, Shabaka. Forgive me, and farewell.”
He spoke no more although he lived a little while.
Karema came from the inner court. She greeted her husband, then turned and said,
“Lord Shabaka, one waits to welcome you.”
I rested myself upon her shoulder, for I could not walk alone.
“What happened to the army of the Karoon?” I asked as we went slowly.
“That happened, Lord, which the holy Tanofir foretold. The Easterns attacked across the swamp, thinking to bear us down by numbers. But the paths were too narrow and their columns were bogged in the mud. Still they struggled on against the arrows to its edge and there the Ethiopians fell on them and being lighter-footed and without armour, had the mastery of them, who were encumbered by their very multitude. Oh! I saw it all from the temple top. Bes did well and I am proud of him, as I am proud of you.”
“It is of the Ethiopians that you should be proud, Karema, since with one to five they have won a great battle.”