[The remains of a shirt of mail, dating from the time of Scheschenk I. (Sesonchis), who belonged to the 22d dynasty, is in the British Museum.  It is made of leather, on which bronze scales are fastened.]

over which lay the broad purple girdle of his apron, and on his head was the crown of Upper and Lower Egypt; behind him stood Mena, who, with his left hand, tightly held the reins, and with his right the shield which was to protect his sovereign in the fight.

The king stood like a storm-proof oak, and Mena by his side like a sapling ash.

The eastern horizon was rosy with the approaching sun-rise when they quitted the precincts of the camp; at this moment the pioneer Paaker advanced to meet the king, threw himself on the ground before him, kissed the earth, and, in answer to the king’s question as to why he had come without his brother, told him that Horus was taken suddenly ill.  The shades of dawn concealed from the king the guilty color, which changed to sallow paleness, on the face of the pioneer—­unaccustomed hitherto to lying and treason.

“How is it with the enemy?” asked Rameses.

“He is aware,” replied Paaker, “that a fight is impending, and is collecting numberless hosts in the camps to the south and east of the city.  If thou could’st succeed in falling on the rear from the north of Kadesh, while the foot soldiers seize the camp of the Asiatics from the south, the fortress will be thine before night.  The mountain path that thou must follow, so as not to be discovered, is not a bad one.”

“Are you ill as well as your brother, man?” asked the king.  “Your voice trembles.”

“I was never better,” answered the Mohar.

“Lead the way,” commanded the king, and Paaker obeyed.  They went on in silence, followed by the vast troop of chariots through the dewy morning air, first across the plain, and then into the mountain range.  The corps of Ra, armed with bows and arrows, preceeded them to clear the way; they crossed the narrow bed of a dry torrent, and then a broad valley opened before them, extending to the right and left and enclosed by ranges of mountains.

“The road is good,” said Rameses, turning to Mena.  “The Mohar has learned his duties from his father, and his horses are capital.  Now he leads the way, and points it out to the guards, and then in a moment he is close to us again.”

“They are the golden-bays of my breed,” said Mena, and the veins started angrily in his forehead.  “My stud-master tells me that Katuti sent them to him before his departure.  They were intended for Nefert’s chariot, and he drives them to-day to defy and spite me.”

“You have the wife—­let the horses go,” said Rameses soothingly.

Suddenly a blast of trumpets rang through the morning air; whence it came could not be seen, and yet it sounded close at hand.

Rameses started up and took his battle-axe from his girdle, the horses pricked their ears, and Mena exclaimed: