The Pharaoh heard and glanced first at his son and then at me, doubtfully, whereon, covered with confusion, I slipped away.

The portico of the temple was deserted, since all, even the guards, had crowded into the vast court to watch the coronation.  Only in the shadow, seated against the pedestal of one of the two colossal statues in front of the outer pylon gate and looking very small beneath its greatness, was a man wrapped in a dark cloak whom noting vaguely I took to be a beggar.  As I passed him, he plucked at my robe, and I stopped to search for something to give to him but could find naught.

“I have nothing, Father,” I said laughing, “except the gold hilt of my sword.”

“Do not part with that, Son,” answered a deep voice, “for I think you will need it before all is over.”

Then while I stared at him he threw back his hood and I saw that beneath was the ancient withered face and the long white beard of my great-uncle, the holy Tanofir, the hermit and magician.

“Great things happen yonder, Shabaka.  So great that I have come from my sepulchre to see, or rather, being blind, to listen, who thrice in my life days have known the like before,” and he pointed to the glittering throng in the court within.  “Yes,” he went on, “I have seen Pharaohs crowned and Pharaohs die—­one of them at the hand of a conqueror.  What will happen to this Pharaoh, think you, Shabaka?”

“You should be better able to answer that question than I, who am no prophet, my Uncle.”

“How, my Nephew, seeing that your dwarf has borne away my magic Cup?  I do not grudge her to him for he is a brave dwarf and clever, who may yet prove a good prop to you, as he has done before, and to Egypt also.  But she has gone and the new vessel is not yet shaped to my liking.  So how can I answer?”

“Out of the store of wisdom gathered in your breast.”

“So! my Nephew.  Well, my store of wisdom tells me that feasts are sometimes followed by want and rejoicings by sorrow and victories by defeat, and splendid sins by repentance and slow climbing back to good again.  Also that you will soon take a long journey.  Where is the Royal Lady Amada?  I did not hear her step among those who passed in to the Crowning.  But even my hearing has grown somewhat weak of late, except in the silence of the night, Shabaka.”

“I do not know, my Uncle, who have only been in Memphis one hour.  But what do you mean?  Doubtless she prepares herself for the feast where I shall meet her.”

“Doubtless.  Tell me, what passes at the temple of Isis?  As I crept past the pylon feeling my way with my beggar’s staff, I thought—­but how can you know who have only been in Memphis an hour?  Yet surely I heard voices just now calling out that you, Shabaka, should be named as the next successor to the throne of Egypt.  Was it so?”

“Yes, holy Tanofir.  That is why I have left who was vexed and am sworn to seek no such honour, which indeed I do not desire.”