“A woman married to a woman, or rather to the Queen of women,” he answered laughing, “well, that matters little.”
“Nay, O King, it matters much since she is under the protection of Isis and inviolate.”
“That remains to be seen, Shabaka. I think that I would dare the wrath of every false goddess in heaven to win such a prize. Learned also, you say, Shabaka.”
“Aye, O King, full of learning to the finger tips, a prophetess also, one in whom the divine fire burns like a lamp in a vase of alabaster, one to whom visions come and who can read the future and the past.”
“Still better,” said the King. “One, then, who would be a fitting consort for the King of kings, who wearies of fat, round-eyed, sweetmeat-sucking fools whereof there are hundreds yonder,” and he pointed towards the House of Women. “Who is this maid’s father?”
“He is dead but she is the niece of the Prince Peroa, and by birth the Royal Lady of Egypt, O King.”
“Good, then she is well born also. Hearken, O Shabaka, to-morrow you start back to Egypt, bearing letters from me to my vassal Peroa, and to my Satrap Idernes, bidding Peroa to hand over this lady Amada to Idernes and bidding Idernes to send her to the East with all honour and without delay, that she may enter my household as one of my wives.”
Now I was filled with rage and horror, and about to refuse this mission when Bes broke in swiftly,
“Will the King of kings be pleased to give command as to my master’s safe and honourable escort to Egypt?”
“It is commanded with all things necessary for Shabaka the Egyptian and the dwarf his servant, with the gold and gems and slaves he won from me in a wager, and everything else that is his. Let it be recorded.”