sounds of singing, and entering a great hall lit by little window-places set high up near the roof and by an opening to the East, saw that in it were gathered a number of men and women, all clad in white robes, the men to the right and the women to the left. At the head of the hall was an altar and behind the altar, in a shrine of alabaster, a life-sized statue of Osiris, god of the dead wrapped in the trappings of the dead. In front of this altar in a chair of black stone sat an aged man clad in white priestly garments over which hung strange-shaped, mystical jewels of gold and gems.
He was a wonderful old man, or so thought Ru staring at him with round eyes, for his beard was long and white as snow, his hands were thin as those of a mummy, his nose was hooked and his eyes were black, piercing, and full of fire. Though she had not seen him in the flesh for many years, Kemmah knew him at once to be none other than the king’s son, her great-uncle, Roy the Prophet, whose fame for holiness, secret power, and magic was told of throughout Egypt. Indeed, she remembered that just so had he appeared to her in the ruined shrine that was in the palace gardens at Thebes when she sought a sign that Tau was a true messenger and not one who set a trap.
They drew near while all the company stared at them in silence. Suddenly Roy lifted his head, studying them with his piercing eyes, then in a strong, clear voice asked of Tau:
“Who are these that you bring into the Chapter of the secret Brotherhood of the Dawn, to enter which without authority is death? Answer, O my son in the spirit.”
Thrice Tau made reverence and said:
“O Holy One, O Home of Wisdom, greater than all kings, voice of Heaven upon earth, hear me! On the day of full moon before the last you commanded me, saying:
“‘Priest of our Brotherhood, become a merchant. Sail up Nile to Thebes, and before dawn on the day that you reach the ancient city enter the garden of the palace and take your stand behind a palm tree that grows near to a forgotten shrine. There you will find a woman, a nurse of kings in whom my blood runs. Speak to her. Show her this half of a broken talisman, and if she can show its other half, declare to her that you are my messenger charged with a certain mission. Set out that mission, and if she doubts, pray to me, sending your prayer through space, and I will hear you and come to your aid. Then when she doubts no more, fulfil that mission as shall be made clear to you.’
“I heard your commands, O Holy One, and behold! the mission is fulfilled. Before you appear Rima the Babylonian, daughter of Ditanah the King of Babylon and widow of Kheperra, Pharaoh of Upper Egypt; Lady Kemmah, the royal nurse, your kinswoman, and the royal babe Nefra, Princess of Egypt.”
“I see them, my son, but what of the fourth, the mighty black man, as to whom I gave no command?”
“This, Father: that without his help sent by the gods none of us would be here to-day, seeing that he held the door against traitors and with that axe of his, slew them all, eight in number.”
“Not so, my son, unless my spirit told me falsely, the Lady Kemmah, my kinswoman, slew one of them.”
Now Ru, who had been listening amazed, could contain himself no longer.
“That is right, O Prophet, or O God,” he broke in, in his big voice. “She killed one of them who slipped past me, their captain as I think, with the shrewdest thrust ever driven by a woman’s arm – also another escaped. But your sight must be very good, O Prophet, if you can see from here to Thebes and take note of one blow among so many.”
A faint smile flickered on the face of Roy.
“Come hither, Ru, for so I think you are named,” he said.
The giant obeyed and of his own accord knelt down before Roy, who went on:
“Hearken, Ru the Ethiopian. You are a gallant man and a true-hearted. You slew those who slew your King Kheperra and bore his body from the battle. By your gift of strength and skill in war you saved your lord’s child and the Queen her mother from prison and death. Therefore I number you among our Brotherhood into whose company hitherto no black man has ever entered. Afterwards you shall be instructed in its simpler rites and take the lesser oaths. Yet know, O Ru, that if you betray the smallest of its secrets or work harm to any of your fellow servants of the Dawn, you shall die thus,” and leaning forward he whispered fiercely into the Negro’s ear.
“Have done, I pray you, Prophet,” exclaimed Ru in lively terror and springing to his feet. “I have seen and heard of many things but never of such a one as this, in Ethiopia or in Egypt, in war or in peace. Moreover, such threats are needless, since I never betrayed any one except myself, and least of all those whose bread I eat and whom I love,” and he glanced towards the Queen and the child.
“I know it, Ru; yet sometimes folly betrays as well as craft. Hearken! You are appointed bodyservant and guard to the Royal Princess of Egypt as you were to her father before her. Where she goes, there you go; when she sleeps your bed is without her door. If she fights you stand at her side in battle, shielding her with your life. If she wanders by day or by night, you wander with her, and when at last she dies, you die also and accompany her to the Underworld. For this shall be your reward – that the blessing and the strength that are on her shall be on you also, and that you shall serve her to all eternity. Retire.”
“I ask no better fate,” muttered Ru as he obeyed.
“Kinswoman, bring me the child,” said the Prophet.
Kemmah came forward bearing the sleeping babe and at Roy’s bidding held it up to be seen of all, whereon everyone in that company bowed the knee and bent the head.
“Brothers and Sisters of the Company of the Dawn, in the person of this child behold your Queen and Egypt’s!” cried Roy, and again they bent the knee and bowed the head.
Then he breathed upon the babe and blessed it, making over it certain mystic signs and calling upon gods and spirits to guard it through life and for ever. This done he kissed the infant and handed it back to Kemmah, saying:
“Blessed be you also, O faithful woman. Aye, and you shall be blessed, and later instructed in our mysteries and numbered of our Company. Go in peace.”
Now Roy had spoken to all that company save to the chief of them, Rima the Queen, who sat in front of him in a chair that had been given to her, watching him with empty eyes and listening to his words as though they dealt with far-off matters and moved her not. Yet when he had finished she lifted her head, saying:
“Words and blessings for the slave. Words and blessings for the nurse. Words and adoration for the babe in whom run the royal bloods of Egypt and of Babylon. But what words for the Queen and mother, O Prophet, at whose bidding she and that which was born of her have been brought to this darksome place and habitation of conspirators plotting to ends unknown?”
Now Roy arose from his throne before the altar, a tall, ethereal shape, and advancing to the stricken queen lifted her hand and kissed it.
“For your Majesty I have no message,” he said, bending his venerable head, “seeing that already you hold communion with one who is greater than I,” and he turned and bowed to the solemn statue of the god Osiris which stared at them from beyond the altar.
“I know it,” she answered with a sad smile.
“Yet,” he went on, “it is reported to me that in this night that is gone, your Majesty dreamed a dream. Is it not so?”
“It is so, Prophet, though who told you I do not know.”
“It matters not who told me. What matters is that I am charged to say to your Majesty that this dream was no phantasy bred of human hopes and longings but the very truth. Learn, O Queen, that this world and its sufferings are but a shadow and a show, and that beyond them, like the pyramids towering above the sands and palm trees at their base, stands the eternal verity whose name is Love. The sands are blown away and having borne their fruit, the palm trees are torn up by the tempest or grow old and die, but the pyramids remain.”
“I understand and I thank you, Prophet. Now lead me hence for I am weary.”
On the third night from this day Rima the Queen, knowing that the fever which consumed her had done its work and that the time was at hand for her