So did the others when I told them the story, although I think it opened their eyes, and especially those of Oliver, to the grave and growing dangers of the situation.  Afterward he informed me that he had spoken of the matter with Maqueda, and that she was much frightened for our sakes, and somewhat for her own.  Joshua, she said, was a man capable of any crime, who had at his back the great majority of the Abati; a jealous, mean and intolerant race who made up in cunning for what they lacked in courage.

Yet, as I saw well, the peril of their situation did nothing to separate this pair or to lessen their love.  Indeed, rather did it seem to bind them closer together, and to make them more completely one.  In short, the tragedy took its appointed course, whilst we stood by and watched it helplessly.

On the afternoon of my angry interview with Joshua we were summoned to a meeting of the Council, whither we went, not without some trepidation, expecting trouble.  Trouble there was, but of a different sort to that which we feared.  Scarcely had we entered the great room where the Child of Kings was seated in her chair of state surrounded by all the pomp and ceremony of her mimic court, when the big doors at the end of it were opened, and through them marched three gray-bearded men in white robes whom we saw at once were heralds or ambassadors from the Fung.  These men bowed to the veiled Maqueda and, turning toward where we stood in a little group apart, bowed to us also.

But of Joshua, who was there supported by two servants, for he could not yet stand alone, and the other notables and priests of the Abati, they took not the slightest heed.

“Speak,” said Maqueda.

“Lady,” answered the spokesman of the embassy, “we are sent by our Sultan, Barung, son of Barung, Ruler of the Fung nation.  These are the words of Barung:  O Walda Nagasta!  ’By the hands and the wit of the white lords whom you have called to your aid, you have of late done much evil to the god Harmac and to me his servant.  You have destroyed one of the gates of my city, and with it many of my people.  You have rescued a prisoner out of my hands, robbing Harmac of his sacrifice and thereby bringing his wrath upon us.  You have slain sundry of the sacred beasts that are the mouth of sacrifice, you have killed certain of the priests and guards of Harmac in a hole of the rocks.  Moreover my spies tell me that you plan further ills against the god and against me.  Now I send to tell you that for these and other offences I will make an end of the people of the Abati, whom hitherto I have spared.  In a little while I marry my daughter to the white man, that priest of Harmac who is called Singer of Egypt, and who is said to be the son of the physician in your service, but after I have celebrated this feast and my people have finished the hoeing of their crops, I take up the sword in earnest, nor will I lay it down again until the Abati are no more.