“Prince,” ejaculated Kaku, falling to his knees, “I may not, I cannot.  Spare me, it is a secret of the gods.”

“Then get you gone to the gods, you lying cur, and talk it over with them,” answered Abi, lifting the sword, “for at least she will not blame me if I send you there.”

“Mercy, mercy!” gasped Kaku, sprawling on the ground, while his lord held the sword above his bald head, thinking that he would choose speech rather than death.

It was at this moment, while the astrologer’s fate trembled in the balance, that a sound of voices reached their ears, and above them the ring of a light, clear laugh which they knew well.  Forgetting his purpose, Abi stepped to the window-place, and looked through the opening of the shutters.  Presently he turned, beckoning to Kaku, and whispered: 

“Come and look; there is always time for you to die.”

The Vizier heard, and, creeping on his hands and knees to the window-place, raised himself and peeped through the shutter.  This was what he saw.  In the walled garden below, the secret garden of the palace, stood the queen Neter-Tua, and the sunlight piercing through the boughs of a flowering tree, fell in bright bars upon her beauty.  She was not alone, for before her knelt a man wearing the rich robes of a noble.  Kaku knew him at once, for although still young, he was Abi’s favourite captain, an officer whom he loved, and had raised to high place because of his wit and valour, having given him one of his daughters in marriage.  Also he had played a chief part in the great plot against Pharaoh, and it was he who had dealt the death-blow to Mermes, the husband of the lady Asti.

Now he was playing another part, namely that of lover to the Queen, for he clasped the hem of her robe in his hands, and kissed it with his lips, and pleaded with her passionately.  They could catch some of his words.

He had risked his life to climb the wall.  He worshipped her.  He could not live without her.  He was ready to do her bidding in all things—­to gather a band and slay Abi; it would be easy, for every man was jealous of the Prince, and thought him quite unworthy of her.  Let her give him her love, and he would make her sole Pharaoh of Egypt again, and be content to serve her as a slave.  At least let her say one kind word to him.

Thus he spoke, wildly, imploringly, like a man that is drunk with passion and knows not what he says or does, while Neter-Tua listened calmly, and now and again laughed that light, low laugh of hers.

At length he rose and strove to take her hand, but, still laughing, she waved him back, then said suddenly: 

“You slew Mermes when he was weak with wounds, did you not, and he was my foster-father.  Well, well, it was done in war, and you must be a brave man, as brave as you are handsome, for otherwise you would scarcely have ventured here where a word of mine would give you to your death.  And now get you gone, Friend, back to my Lord’s daughter who is your wife, and if you dare—­tell her where you have been and why, you who are so brave a man,” and once more she laughed.