Abi was the hope of every one of them; to him they looked for the spoils of Egypt, and before them on Abi’s throne they saw a woman who stood between them and their ends, who in her ancient pride dared to demand that he, her husband, should do homage to her, and who to-morrow, if she conquered, would give them to the sword.

“Tear her to pieces!” they screamed, “the bastard whom childless Pharaoh palmed off upon the land!  She is a sorceress who keeps fat on air—­an evil spirit.  Away with her!  Or if you fear, then let us come!”

At length they had roared themselves hoarse; at length they grew still.  Then Abi, who all this while had stood there hesitating, and now and again turning to hearken to Kaku who whispered in his ear, looked up at Tua and spoke.

“You see and you hear, Queen,” he said.  “My people mistrust you, and they are a rough people, I cannot hold them back for long.  If once they get at you, very soon that sweet body of yours will be in more fragments than was Osiris after Set had handled him.”

Now Tua, who hitherto had sat still and indifferent, like one who takes no heed, seemed to awake, and answered: 

“A bad example, Prince, for Osiris rose again, did he not?” Then she leaned back and once more was silent.

“Do you still desire that I should do homage to you, Queen, I, your husband?” he asked presently.

“Why not?” she replied.  “I have spoken.  A decree of Pharaoh may not be changed, and though a woman, I am—­Pharaoh.”

Now Abi went white with rage, and turned to his guard to bid them drag her from the throne.  But she who was watching him, suddenly lifted her sceptre and spoke in a new voice, a clear, strong voice that rang through the hall, and even reached those who were gathered on the steps without.

“There is a question between you and me, O People,” she said, “and it is this—­Shall I, your Queen, rule in Egypt, as my fathers ruled, or shall yonder man rule whom by the decree of Amen I have taken for husband?  Now you who for the most part have the Hyksos blood running in your veins, as he has, desire that he should rule, and you have slain the good god, my father, and would make Abi king over you, and see me his handmaid, one to give him children of my royal race, no more.  See, you are a multitude and my legions are far away, and I—­I am alone, one lamb among the jackals, thousands and thousands of jackals who for a long while have been hungry.  How, then, shall I match myself against you?”

“You cannot,” shouted a wild-eyed spokesman.  “Come down, lamb, and kneel before the lion, Abi, or we, the jackals, will rend you.  We will not acknowledge you, we who are of the fierce Hyksos blood.  While the obelisks stand that were set up by the great Hyksos Pharaoh whose descendant was Abi’s mother, while the obelisks stand that are set there for all eternity, we will not acknowledge you.  Come down and take your place in our lord’s harem, O Pharaoh’s bastard daughter.”