At once Ochus noted the beauty of that arm and exclaimed with a laugh,
“By the holy fire! yonder hand and wrist are not those of an ugly old woman, such as was spoken of by you slaves, but rather those of one who is still young and fair. Had I seen them but a moment gone, surely she should have been stripped. Indeed——”
“I have touched the sceptre of the Great King,” I broke in coldly. “Once the sceptre has been touched the decree of the Great King may not be altered.”
“Wise also,” said Ochus, “for she knows our Persian laws. Well, she is right. The sceptre has been touched and what has been said cannot be changed. See now, all of you who are ignorant, how good a shield is wisdom. Come, Mentor, let us be going to make sport with those young priestesses of Ammon who, not being wise, but only pretty, await us in the palace. It will be a merry night. Bagoas, bide you here, lest you should be shocked,” and he laughed brutally, “also to inquire whether this heavenly harlot called Isis decks herself with jewels, for if so, as to them I swore no oath. Farewell, Priestess. Continue to be wise and to wear a veil, because if the rest of you is as shapely as your hand, who knows but that some night when wine has drowned all promises, I, or others, might cause you to be stripped at last.”
Then he turned and went, followed by his foul company. Only Bagoas remained behind as he had been bidden.
When the doors had closed and by the shouts from without the walls I knew that the Persians were gone, I said to Bagoas, who was alone with me in the place,
“Tell me, Egyptian, cradled beneath the wings of Isis, are you not afraid?” and I turned my head, glancing at the vile stain upon the alabaster statue.
“Aye, Prophetess,” he answered, “I am afraid, as much afraid as you were but now.”
“Fool!” I mocked back at him, “I was not afraid. Ere ever a hand had been laid upon me by you, you would have been dead, and that king whom you serve would have been dead also—ask me not how—and by now your souls would be writhing beneath the hooks of the Tormentors of the Under-world. Have you not heard of the curse of Isis, Eunuch, and do you think that your pomp and power can protect you from her swift sword? Now, now, should I but breathe one prayer to her, she can slay you if she wills.”
He quaked, he fell upon his knees; yes, this murderer of kings fell upon his knees before me, one veiled woman in a shrine, imploring me to spare him and to protect him from the wrath of Heaven. For in his soul Bagoas was still Egyptian, and the blood of his forefathers who had worshipped Isis for a thousand years still ran strong in him. Moreover, he feared me, the priestess whose fame he knew, as he knew the fate of those who had offended me.