Now, without waiting for the greetings of ceremony, Tua began to question the Vizier as to what steps had been taken in furtherance of her decrees, and when he assured her that the business was on foot, went into its every detail with him, as to the ships and the officers and the provisioning of the men, and so forth.  Next she set herself to dictate despatches to the captains and barons who held the fortresses on the Upper Nile, communicating to them Pharaoh’s orders on this matter, and the commission of Rames, whereby he, whose hands had done the ill, was put in command of the great embassy that went to make amends.

These being finished, she sent away the scribe to spend the rest of the night in writing them in duplicate, bidding him bring them to her in the early morning to be sealed.  Next addressing Rames, she commanded him to start on the morrow with those troops which were ready to Takensit above the first Cataract of the Nile, which was the frontier fortress of Egypt, and there wait until the remainder of the soldiers joined them, bearing with them her presents to the King of Kesh, and the embalmed body of the Prince Amathel.

Rames bowed and said that her orders should be obeyed, and the audience being finished, still bowing and supported by Mermes, began to walk backwards towards the door, his eyes fixed upon the face of Tua, who sat with bent head, clasping the arms of her chair like one in difficulty and doubt.  When he had gone a few steps she seemed to come to some determination, for with an effort she raised herself and said: 

“Return, Count Rames, I have a message to give you for the King of Kesh who, unhappy man, has lost his son and heir, and it is one that no other ears must hear.  Leave me a while with this captain, O Mermes and Asti, and see that none listen to our talk.  Presently I will summon you to conduct him away.”

They hesitated, for this thing seemed strange, then noting the look she gave them, departed through the doors behind the royal seat.

Now Rames and the Queen were left alone in that great, lighted chamber.  With bent head and folded arms he stood before her while she looked at him intently, yet seemed to find no words to say.  At length she spoke in a sweet, low voice.

“It is many years since we were playmates in the courts of the temple yonder, and since then we have never been alone together, have we, Rames?”

“No, Great Lady,” answered Rames, “for you were born to be a queen, and I am but a humble soldier who cannot hope to consort with queens.”

“Who cannot hope!  Would you wish to then if you could?”

“O Queen,” answered Rames, biting his lips, “why does it please you to make a mock of me?”

“It does not please me to do any such thing, for by my father Amen, Rames, I wish that we were children once more, for those were happy days before they separated us and set you to soldiering and me to statecraft.”