THE BEGGAR AND THE KING

It was the afternoon of the third day.  Tua and Asti, seated in the window-place of their splendid prison, looked through the wooden screen down into the court below, where, according to his custom at this hour, Janees the King sat in the shadow to administer justice and hear the petitions of his subjects.  The two women were ill at ease, for the time of respite had almost passed.

“Night draws near,” said Tua, “and with it will come Janees.  Look how he eyes this window, like a hungry lion waiting to be fed.  Kepher has made no sign; perchance after all he is but a wandering beggar-man filled with strange fancies, or perchance he is dead, as may well happen at his age.  At least, he makes no sign, nor does Amen, to whom I have prayed so hard, send any answer to my prayers.  I am forsaken.  Oh!  Asti, you who are wise, tell me, what shall I do?”

“Trust in the gods,” said Asti.  “There are still three hours to sundown, and in three hours the gods, to whom time is nothing, can destroy the world and build it up again.  Remember when we starved in the pylon tower at Memphis, and what befell us there.  Remember the leap to death and the Boat of Ra, and those by whom it was captained.  Remember and trust in the gods.”

“I trust—­in truth I trust, Asti, but yet—­oh! let us talk of something else.  I wonder what has chanced in Memphis since we left it in so strange a fashion?  Do you think that awful Ka of mine queens it there with Abi for a husband?  If so, I almost grieve for Abi, for she had something in her eyes which chilled my mortal blood, and yet you say she is a part of me, a spirit who cannot die, cast in my mould, and given to me at birth.  I would I had another Ka, and that you could draw it forth again, Asti, to bewitch this Janees, and hold him while we fled.  See, that case draws to an end at length.  Janees is giving judgment, or rather his councillor is, for he prompts him all the time.  Can you not hear his whispers?  As for Janees himself, his thoughts are here, I feel his eyes burn me through this wooden screen.  He is about to rise.  Why!  Who comes?  Awake, Nurse, and look.”

Asti obeyed.  There in the gate of the court she saw a tall man, white-bearded, yellow-faced, horny-eyed, ancient, who, clad in a tattered robe, leaned upon his staff of thornwood, and stared about him blindly as though the sun bewildered him.  The guards came to thrust him away, but he waved his staff, and they fell back from him as though there were power in that staff.  Now his slow, tortoise-like eyes seemed to catch sight of the glittering throne, and of him who sat upon it, and with long strides he walked to the throne and halted in front of it, again leaning on his staff.

“Who is this fellow,” asked Janees in an angry voice, “who stands here and makes no obeisance to the King?”

“Are you a king?” asked Kepher.  “I am very blind.  I thought you were but a common man such as I am, only clad in bright clothes.  Tell me, what is it like to be a king, and have all things beneath your feet.  Do you still hope and suffer, and fear death like a common man?  Is the flesh beneath your gold and purple the same as mine beneath my rags?  Do old memories torment you, memories of the dead who come no more?  Can you feel griefs, and the ache of disappointment?”