At first all went well, for the great square in front of the temple was empty.  The procession of the body of Pharaoh passed it, and vanished down the street that led to the main gate, a mile away.  Now the guard formed into line to enter this street also, when suddenly, barring the mouth of it, appeared great companies of men who had been hidden in other streets.

A voice cried “Halt!” and while the guards re-shaped themselves into a square about the person of the Queen, an embassy of officers, among whom were recognised the four lawful sons of Abi, advanced and demanded in the Prince’s name that her Majesty should be given over to them, saying that she would be treated with all honour, and that those who accompanied her might go free.

“Answer that the Queen of Egypt does not yield herself into the hands of rebels, and of murderers; then fall on them, and slay them all,” cried Neter-Tua when Mermes, her captain, had given her this message.

So he went forward and returned the answer, and next moment a flight of arrows from the Queen’s guard laid low the four sons of Abi, and most of those who were with them.

Then the fight began, one of the fiercest that had been known in Egypt for many a generation.  The royal regiment, it is true, was but small, but they were picked men, and mad with despair and rage.  Moreover, Tua the Queen played no woman’s part that night, for when these charged, striving to cut a path through the opposing hosts, she charged with them, and by the moonlight was seen standing like an angry goddess in her chariot, and loosing arrows from her bow.  Also no hurt came to her or those with her, or even to the horses that drew her.  It was as though she were protected by some unseen strength, that caught the sword cuts and turned aside the points of spears.

Yet it availed not, for the men of Abi were a multitude, and the royal guard but very few.  Slowly, an ever-lessening band, they were pressed back, first to the walls of the old temple of Sekhet, and then within its outer court.  Now all who were left of them, not fifty men under the command of Mermes, strove to hold the gate.  Desperately they fought, and one by one went down to death beneath the rain of spears.

Tua had dismounted from her chariot, and leaning on her bow, for all her arrows were spent, watched the fray with Asti at her side.  With a yell the troops of Abi rushed through the gate, killing as they came.  Now, surrounded by all who remained to her, not a dozen men, they were driven back through the inner courts, through the halls, to the pylon stairs.

Here the last stand was made.  Step by step they held the stairs, till at length there were left upon their feet only Tua, Asti and Mermes, her husband, who was sorely wounded in many places.  At the little landing between the rooms of the Queen and Asti while the assailants paused a moment, the Captain Mermes, mad with grief and pain, turned and kissed his wife.  Next he bowed before the Queen, saying: