Then one day came a change, and rising from his bed he commanded the presence of his Councillors, and when they came, inquired of them what had happened, and why he could remember nothing since the feast.

They put him off with soft words, and soon he grew weary and dismissed them.  But after they had gone and he had eaten he sent for Mermes, the Captain of the Guard of Amen and his friend, and questioned him.

“The last thing I remember,” he said, “was seeing the drunken Prince of Kesh fighting with your son, that handsome, fiery-eyed Count Rames whom some fool, or enemy, had set to wait upon him at table.  It was a dog’s trick, Mermes, for after all your blood is purer and more ancient than that of the present kings of Kesh.  Well, the horror of the sight of my royal guest, the suitor for my daughter’s hand, fighting with an officer of my own guard at my own board, struck me as a butcher strikes an ox, and after it all was blackness.  What chanced, Mermes?”

“This, Pharaoh:  My son killed Amathel in fair fight, then those black Nubian giants in their fury attacked your guard, but led by Rames the Egyptians, though they were the lesser men, overcame them and slew most of them.  I am an old soldier, but never have I seen a finer fray——­”

“A finer fray!  A finer fray,” gasped Pharaoh.  “Why this will mean a war between Kesh and Egypt.  And then?  Did the Council order Rames to be executed, as you must admit he deserved, although you are his father?”

“Not so, O Pharaoh; moreover, I admit nothing, though had he played a coward’s part before all the lords of Egypt, gladly would I have slain him with my own hand.”

“Ah!” said Pharaoh, “there speaks the soldier and the parent.  Well, I understand.  He was affronted, was he not, by that bedizened black man?  Were I in your place I should say as much.  But—­what happened?”

“Your Majesty having become unconscious,” explained Mermes, “her Majesty the Queen Neter-Tua, Glorious in Ra, took command of affairs according to her Oath of Crowning.  She has sent an embassy of atonement of two thousand picked soldiers to the King of Kesh, bearing with them the embalmed body of the divine Amathel and many royal gifts.”

“That is good enough in its way,” said Pharaoh.  “But why two thousand men, whereof the cost will be very great, when a score would have sufficed?  It is an army, not an embassy, and when my royal brother of Kesh sees it advancing, bearing with it the ill-omened gift of his only son’s body, he may take alarm.”

Mermes respectfully agreed that he might do so.

“What general is in command of this embassy, as it pleases you to call it?”

“The Count Rames, my son, is in command, your Majesty.”

Now weak as he was still, Pharaoh nearly leapt from his chair: 

“Rames!  That young cut-throat who killed the Prince!  Rames who is the last of the old rightful dynasty of Kesh!  Rames, a mere captain, in command of two thousand of my veterans!  Oh, I must still be mad!  Who gave him the command?”