“Seti,” she said, “Pharaoh still lives, but the physicians say he will be dead by dawn.  There is yet time.  Here I have a writing, sealed with his signet and witnessed, wherein he recalls all that he decreed in the Court to-day, and declares you, his son, to be the true and only heir of the throne of Egypt.”

“Is it so, wife?  Tell me now how did a dying man in a swoon command and seal this writing?” and he touched the scroll she held in her hand.

“He recovered for a little while; Nehesi will tell you how,” she replied, looking him in the face with cold eyes.  Then before he could speak, she added, “Waste no more breath in questions, but act and at once.  The General of the guards waits below; he is your faithful servant.  Through him I have promised a gift to every soldier on the day that you are crowned.  Nehesi and most of the officers are on our side.  Only the priests are against us because of that Hebrew witch whom you shelter, and of her tribe whom you befriend; but they have not had time to stir up the people nor will they attempt revolt.  Act, Seti, act, for none will move without your express command.  Moreover, no question will be raised afterwards, since from Thebes to the sea and throughout the world you are known to be the heir of Egypt.”

“What would you have me do, wife?” asked Seti, when she paused for lack of breath.

“Cannot you guess?  Must I put statecraft into your head as well as a sword into your hand?  Why that scribe of yours, who follows your heels like a favoured dog, would be more apt a pupil.  Hearken then.  Amenmeses has sent out to gather strength, but as yet there are not fifty men about him whom he can trust.”  She leant forward and whispered fiercely, “Kill the traitor, Amenmeses—­all will hold it a righteous act, and the General waits your word.  Shall I summon him?”

“I think not,” answered Seti.  “Because Pharaoh, as he has a right to do, is pleased to name a certain man of royal blood to succeed him, how does this make that man a traitor to Pharaoh who still lives?  But, traitor or none, I will not murder my cousin Amenmeses.”

“Then he will murder you.”

“Maybe.  That is a matter between him and the gods which I leave them to settle.  The oath he swore to-day is not one to be lightly broken.  But whether he breaks it or not, I also swore an oath, at least in my heart, namely that I would not attempt to dispute the will of Pharaoh whom, after all, I love as my father and honour as my king, Pharaoh who still lives and may, as I hope, recover.  What should I say to him if he recovered or, at the worst, when at last we meet elsewhere?”

“Pharaoh never will recover; I have spoken to the physician and he told me so.  Already they pierce his skull to let out the evil spirit of sickness, after which none of our family have lived for very long.”

“Because, as I hold, thereby, whatever priests and physicians may say, they let in the good spirit of death.  Ana, I pray you if I——­”