As the sun rose Tua went forth more beautiful than the morning, and at the gates of the temple found Rames awaiting her, clad in his armour, while from the mists below came a sound as of an army approaching.

“What passes?” asked Tua, looking at him, and there was more love in her blue eyes than there is water in the Nile at flood.

“I think that Abi attacks us, Lady,” he said, bowing the knee to her, “and I am fearful for you, for our men are few, and his are many.”

“Be not afraid of Abi, or of anything, O Rames, though it is true that this day you must lose your liberty,” she answered with a sweet and gentle smile, and he wondered at her words.

Then, before he could speak again, two of the captains of his outposts ran in and reported that without were priests and heralds, who came in peace from the army of Abi.

“Summon the officers, and let them be admitted,” said Rames, “but be careful, all of you, lest this embassy should hide some trick of war.  Come, Queen, it is to you that they should speak, and not to me, who am but a general of your province, Kesh,” and he followed her to the inner court, where, in front of the sanctuary, was a chair, on which, at his prayer, she seated herself, as a mighty Queen should do.

Now, conducted by his own officers, the embassy entered, bearing with them three closed litters, and Tua and Rames noted that among that embassy were the greatest generals, and the most holy priests of Egypt.  At a given sign they prostrated themselves before the glory of the Queen, all save the soldiers who bore the litters.  Next, from among their ranks out stepped the venerable High-Priest of Amen at Thebes, and stood before Tua with bowed head till, with a motion of her hand, she commanded him to speak.

“O Morning-Star of Amen,” he began, “after you left our camp last night a messenger came to us from the Father of the Gods——­”

“Stay, O High-Priest,” broke in Tua.  “I did not leave your camp who never tarried there, and who for two long years have set no foot upon the holy soil of Egypt.  No, not since I fled from Memphis to save myself from death, or what is worse—­the defilement of a forced marriage with Abi, my Uncle, and Pharaoh’s murderer.”

Now the High-Priest turned and stared at those behind him, and all who were present stared at the Queen.

“Pardon me,” he said, “but how can this thing be, seeing that for those two years we have seen your Majesty day by day living among us as the wife of Abi?”

Now Tua looked at Asti, who stood at her side, and the tall and noble Asti looked at the High-Priest, saying: 

“You know me, do you not?”

“Aye, Lady,” he answered, “we know you.  You were the wife of Mermes, the last shoot of a royal tree, and you are the mother of the Lord Rames yonder, against whom we came out to make war.  We know you well, O greatest of all the seers in Egypt, Mistress of Secret Things.  But we believed that you had perished in the temple of Sekhet at Memphis, that temple where Pharaoh died.  Now we understand that, being a magician, you only vanished thence.”