“What has chanced, Eunuch,” I asked presently, “that I am disturbed from the bed where I was sleeping so well?”

“I do not know, Lord,” he answered.  “I only know that the King of kings has suddenly commanded that you should be brought before him as a guest clothed in a robe of honour, even if to do so, you must be awakened from your rest, yes, to his own royal table, for he holds a feast this night.  Lord,” he went on in a whining voice, “if perchance fortune should have changed her face to you, I pray you bear no malice to those who, when she frowned, were forced, yes, under the private Seal of Seals, against their will to carry out the commands of the King.  Be just, O Lord Shabaka.”

“Say no more.  I will try to be just,” I answered.  “But what is justice in the East?  I only know of it in Egypt.”

Now we reached one of the doors of the palace and I was taken to a chamber where slaves who were waiting, washed and anointed me with scents, after which they clad me in a beautiful robe of silk, setting the girdle of rose-hued pearls about me.

When they had finished, preceded by Houman I was led to a great pillared hall closed in with silk hangings, where many feasted.  Through them I went to a dais at the head of the hall where between half-drawn curtains surrounded by cup-bearers and other officers, the King sat in all his glory upon a cushioned golden throne.  He had a glittering wine-cup in his hand and at a glance I saw that he was drunk, as it is the fashion for these Easterns to be at their great feasts, for he looked happy and human which he did not do when he was sober.  Or perchance, as sometimes I thought afterwards, he only pretended to be drunk.  Also I saw something else, namely, Bes, wondrously attired with the gold chain about his neck and wearing a red headdress.  He was seated on the carpet before the throne, and saying things that made the King laugh and even caused the grave officers behind to smile.

I came to the dais and at a little sign from Bes who yet did not seem to see me, such a sign as he often made when he caught sight of game before I did, I prostrated myself.  The King looked at me, then asked,

“Who is this?” adding, “Oh, I remember, the Egyptian whose arrows do not miss, the wonderful hunter whom Idernes sent to me from Memphis, which I hope to visit ere long.  We quarrelled, did we not, Egyptian, something about a lion?”

“Not so, King,” I answered.  “The King was angry and with justice, because I could not kill a lion before it frightened his horses.”

This I said because my hours in the boat had made me humble, also because the words came to my lips.

“Yes, yes, something like that, or at least you lie well.  Whatever it may have been, it is done with now, a mere hunters’ difference,” and taking from his side his long sceptre that was headed with the great emerald, he stretched it out for me to touch in token of pardon.