As he advanced, the torchlight turned his oiled skin the colour of fresh blood. He made a deep obeisance to Nastasen and a deeper one to the dark alcove, then braced his feet and stood waiting.

  Thus far there had been no sound from the ranks of the doomed. Rigid and grey-faced, they stared with empty eyes at their executioner. In the front rank was the young officer. He had not looked at us, and he seemed oblivious of the woman who pressed close to him. She was hardly more than a girl, and in her arms she clasped an infant. Her face remained fixed, but her arms must have tightened, for the child began to cry.

  The executioner's lipless mouth split. 'The babe weeps? I will stop its tears. And because the Heneshem is merciful, I will not leave its mother to grieve. Stand forth, woman, and hold the babe close.'

  He raised the heavy spear as effortlessly as if it had been a twig. The crimson light slid along the bulging muscles of his arms. The young father groaned and raised his hands to cover his eyes.

  Dry-mouthed with horror, I struggled to move my arms and reach my little pistol. I knew I could never do it in time.

  When he is slightly irritated, Emerson bellows like a bull-When he is really angry, he is as silent and swift as a charging leopard. I heard the crack as the rope across his breast snapped like string. In one long leap he reached the nearest of the guards and wrenched the spear from his hand, sending him sprawling. There was a flash, a bolt of silvery light - and the blade of the spear, now dull and dripping, stood out a full twelve inches behind the executioner's back.

  Oh, for the brush of a Turner, or the pen of a Homer! No lesser genius could convey the superb and passionate splendour of that scene! Emerson stood at bay, fists clenched. That incredible blow had burst all the buttons off his shirt and his bronzed breast heaved with effort A circle of spears menaced him but his head was proudly erect and a grim smile curved his lips. At his feet the body of the killer lay in a spreading pool of blood. Behind him, the condemned had come alive; falling to their knees, they held out their arms to their defender.

  Emerson took a deep breath. His voice filled the vast chamber and rolled in thunderous echoes. 'The vengeance of the gods has struck down the killer of little children and unarmed men! Ma'at (justice, order) is served through me - the Father of Curses, the hand of the god!'

  Through the entire assemblage rippled a united gasp of awe. Nastasen rose to his feet, his face swollen with fury. 'Kill!' he screamed. 'Kill him!'

  'The God Has Spoken'

  My throat was too constricted, my heart too full for speech. My eyes clung to those of my heroic spouse, and in the brilliant blue of their gaze I read undimmed courage, undying affection, and the acknowledgment of the admiration I would have expressed had I been able. His smiling lips shaped words.

  'Don't look, Peabody.'

  'Never fear me,' I cried. 'I will be with you to the end, my dear, and after. But I will not follow till I have avenged you!'

  Nastasen let out a wordless shriek of fury. His order had not been obeyed. The men hesitated, none wishing to be the first to brave the mighty white magician's wrath. Gibbering and frothing at the mouth, the prince pulled the ceremonial sword from his belt and ran towards Emerson.

  A voice rose over the murmur of the spectators. 'Stop! The Heneshem speaks. Heed the voice of the Heneshem.'

  It was a woman's voice, high and sweet, and it stopped Nastasen as if he had run into an invisible wall. The voice went on, 'The ceremony is ended. Return the strangers to their place, The Heneshem has spoken.'

  But - but - ' Nastasen stuttered, waving his sword. 'The guilty men must die. They and their families.'

  Emerson folded his arms. 'You will have to kill me first.'

  Take them back to their places,' said the high clear voice.

  'All of them. Await the judgment of the Heneshem. The ceremony is ended. The voice of the Heneshem has spoken.'

  The guards obeyed this order as they had not obeyed Nastasen. The rope that had held me fell away. I got to my feet, finding to my chagrin that my knees were a trifle unsteady.

  Emerson pushed a pair of spears aside and hurried to me. 'What an anticlimax,' he remarked. 'Here, Peabody, don't faint or anything of that sort. We must continue to keep up appearances.'

  'I have no intention of doing anything so absurd,' I assured him

  'Then stop mumbling into my collarbone and let go my shirt'

  I wiped my eyes on the remains of that garment before I complied. 'Another shin ruined, Emerson! You are so hard on them.'

  'That's my Peabody,' said Emerson fondly. 'Come along, my dear - step smartly. Forthright, on your feet, man.'

  I had forgotten Reggie, and I expect the Reader will understand why. He too had been freed, but he was still sitting in the chair, staring like a dead fish. The room was almost empty. A shuffle of sandalled feet from the shadows indicated the departure of the last of the spectators. Nastasen had gone, leaving his sword on the floor where he had flung it in a fit of childish pique.

  Walking like a somnambulist, Reggie joined us and we started for the exit, surrounded by a decidedly nervous escort. As we passed the little group of prisoners, the young officer flung himself at Emerson's feet. 'We are your men, Father of Curses To death.'

  'Not to death, but to life,' retorted Emerson, never at a loss for the mot juste. 'Stand up like men and fight for the right (ma'at).'

  'A pity they don't understand English,' I remarked, as we proceeded on our way. 'It lost a bit in the translation.'

  Emerson chuckled. 'I resent your criticism, Peabody. I thought it sounded quite well, given my imperfect command of the language.'

  'Oh, I meant no criticism, my dear. You understand the language better than I; what was that strange title?'

  'I have no idea,' said Emerson placidly. 'Whoever he or she may be, the Heneshem is clearly a power to be reckoned with.'

  'It was a woman's voice, Emerson.'

  'The Voice was a woman's; the Hand was a man's. Titles, Peabody, don't you think?'

  'Good gracious. I hadn't thought of it, but I expect you are right. Emerson - did you see something - someone - in the alcove?'

  'The Hand of the Heneshem emerged from it.'

  'And the voice was there too. But what I saw - felt - sensed - was something more.'

  'Monstrous,' Reggie mumbled. 'Horrible.'

  'Ah, so you are with us in spirit as well as in body,' said Emerson, shading his eyes as we came out into an open courtyard. 'Cheer up, man, we aren't dead yet.'

  'You were on the brink,' said Reggie. 'And your wife and I were a step behind you.'

  'Balderdash,' said Emerson. `I keep telling you, they are saving us for a more impressive ceremony. Here, take my arm, Peabody, these fellows are practically running.' He gave the soldier ahead of him a sharp smack on the back. 'Slow down, curse you [lit. Anubis take you].'

  'They are anxious to get us off their hands, I expect,' I said. 'For fear they will fall victim to the magic of the great Father of Curses.'

  Emerson grinned. 'Yes. Nastasen's little trick backfired on him this time; our mana is higher than ever.'

  'Your mana, my dear,' I said, squeezing his arm.

  Strolling now at a more moderate pace, we continued to speculate on the identity and powers of the Heneshem. Emerson insisted it was a man, I insisted it was a woman, but we agreed that his or her authority was probably limited to religious matters. However, in this society the distinction was by no means so clear as in our own. The dispensation of justice (if it could be so called) was primarily a religious function, since the divine pantheon was the final judge. What effect this would have on our own proposed sacrifice we were unable to determinem though we argued the matter for some time.

  'Well,' said Emerson at last, 'we can only wait and see. At least we have learned that there is another player in this little game, who seems, for the moment at least, to be disposed in our favour.'

  'Hmmm,' I said.

  'What is that supposed to mean, Peabody?'

  'I think I know why she favours us. You, rather.'

  'See here, Peabody -'

  'Emerson, just listen and follow my logic. The Hand of the Heneshem uses a spear to execute his victims. Meroitic reliefs depict the queen dispatching prisoners with a spear. There are similar scenes from Egyptian temples showing pharaohs smashing the heads of captives with a huge club. But surely the god-king did not commit this bloody deed himself; we know that priests and officials performed many of the duties that were nominally the responsibility of the monarch. In this case as well, he must have had a deputy who wielded the actual club. It is even more likely that a woman, however muscular and bloodthirsty, would delegate an official - the Hand of Her Majesty - to do the killing.'

  'Are you suggesting the unknown power is the queen?' Emerson exclaimed. 'That pleasant plump lady, to whom you presented your needle and thread, ordering the murder of a girl and her infant?'

  'One may smile and be a villain, Emerson. One may be pleasingly plump and domestically inclined and still see nothing wrong with murdering babies. And a pleasingly plump, youngish widow may be favourably disposed towards a man of whose physical and moral endowments she has just beheld such an impressive display.'

  Emerson blushed. 'Balderdash,' he mumbled.

  'Hmmm,' I said again.

  In deference to Emerson's modesty, I had understated the case. Any female who had watched him in action that day must have fallen instantly in love with him. I myself had been deeply moved. The sight of my husband's splendid muscular develop-ment was familiar to me, but to see it displayed in circumstances of struggle and violence, in the defence of the helpless, had an extremely powerful effect on me. I will not pretend my appre-ciation was entirely aesthetic. There was another element involved, and this was now increasing in intensity. The phrase 'fever pitch' may not be entirely inappropriate.

  'You are trembling, my dear,' said Emerson solicitously. 'Delayed shock, I expect. Lean on me.'

  'It is not shock,' I said.

  'Ah,' said Emerson. He poked the soldier ahead of him. 'You creep like a snail. Go faster.'

  It was with visible relief that our guard handed us over to the soldiers on duty at the entrance to our quarters. Pressing my arm close to his side, Emerson paused only long enough to make sure Reggie was not following before he led me towards my sleeping chamber.

  The sight we beheld was dreadful enough to make us forget the purpose for which we had come. I had assumed Amenit would go about her business and that my business with her could be delayed for a few minutes - or longer, as the case might prove. But she was still there, huddled on a mat by my bed. At the sight of her face Emerson let out a cry of horror.

  'Good Gad, Peabody! What have you done?'

  Her skin was not only blistered and peeling, it was green -the nasty livid shade of a decomposing corpse. It looked particularly gruesome next to her purple hair.

  I own I was a trifle taken aback. The substance I had applied was only lye soap, softened and made into a paste. She must have had a particular sensitivity to it. Nor had I really expected the herbs would produce such a pronounced shade of green.

  Her expression, as she glowered at me, did nothing to improve her appearance. 'You set my skin afire, you [several epithets whose precise meaning was obscure but whose general intent was plain]. I will kill you! I will tear your tongue from your mouth, your hair from your head, your -' She broke off with a yelp of agony and doubled up, clutching her stomach.

  Emerson swallowed. 'Not - not the arsenic, Peabody?'

  'No, of course not. She does appear to be in some digestive distress, though. The soap could not... Oh, good Gad!' I had seen the bowl on the floor beside Amenit's writhing form. It was the one in which I had steeped the castor beans - and it was empty.

  I dropped to my knees beside the girl and took her by the shoulders. 'Amenit! Did you drink this potion? Answer me at once!'

  The cramp had subsided; she lay limp and sweating in my grasp. 'Yes, I drank it. It was powerful magic, you said many spells over it. Ooooh! Now I am ugly, and I die... but first I will kill you!'

  I struck her hand aside. 'Stupid girl! You took too much. That is why your face has swelled and broken. The gods have punished you for stealing my magic potion.'

  'What was in the stuff?' Emerson asked anxiously. 'Really, Peabody, if it was dangerous you shouldn't have left it lying about.'

  This from a man who had just driven a spear through a living body, on behalf of a woman who had betrayed her brother to torture and death and who was probably capable of doing the same to us. Sometimes I do not understand the male sex.

  'She has rid herself of most of it,' I said, with a look of disgust at the mess on the floor. 'I don't think she is in danger of dying. To be on the safe side, I will give her a stiff dose of ipecacuanha. Hold her head, Emerson - but first get that bowl.'

  Amenit let out a piercing shriek. I thought another cramp had gripped her until I saw Reggie in the doorway. 'Don't let him see!' Amenit howled, rolling herself into a ball. 'Tell him to go away.'

  'What is wrone?' Reggie asked 'I heard screams - '

  'She has drunk some - some beauty preparation of mine,' I replied. 'It was not meant to be taken internally.'

  When the litter I had requested finally arrived, it was accompanied by one of the swaddled maidens. I hoped she had come to attend her stricken sister, but her examination was cursory in the extreme, and after directing the litter bearers to carry Amenit away, she remained, taking over the duties the latter had performed. While she was supervising the servants in cleaning my sleeping chamber, I drew Emerson aside.

  'It is not Mentarit!'

  'How can you tell?'

  'I have my methods. Oh, dear, this is most distressing. Dare I ask about Mentarit, do you think?'

  'I don't see that it can do any harm,' Emerson replied. 'Certainly not to us, and if Mentarit is already under suspicion a casual inquiry cannot worsen her situation. See here, Peabody, you didn't leave any other noxious substances lying around, did you? We don't want another of the girls to be taken ill.'

  'Speak for yourself, Emerson. If I knew for certain this young woman was not one of the few damsels loyal to Nefret, I would pour every noxious substance I possessed into her and feel not a single qualm. As for Amenit, you can spare her your concern. Her pulse was strong and steady, and her alimentary distress was subsiding. Naturally I cleared away the incriminating evidence while we were waiting for the litter, but I had better supervise the supervisor, to make certain she doesn't pry into my belongings.'

  I found Reggie in my room, looking curiously at the bowls and jars set out on the chest I used as a toilet table. 'What was it she took, Mrs Amelia? I had no idea you sweet innocent ladies used such dangerous substances.'

  'Any substance is dangerous if taken in excessive quantities or in the wrong way, Reggie.'

  Reggie picked up one of the bowls and sniffed it - a futile exercise, for I had carefully rinsed it out. 'She will be all right, won't she? I never saw such a face in my life!'

  'It was only a rash; it will fade. You seem less concerned with her health than with her appearance, Reggie. I hope your promises to her were sincere. I would not like to think you a vile deceiver of women, like so many of your sex.'

  Reggie put the bowl down and gazed earnestly at me. 'Few men would scruple to take advantage of a woman to win freedom for himself and his friends, or think it wrong to do so. As for me - I love, I worship, I adore that dear girl. Never will I leave her!'

  'We had better continue this discussion elsewhere,' I said, with a significant nod at the handmaiden.

  'Oh.' Reggie looked startled. 'Do you think she - '

  'I think we should leave the girl to get on with her work.'

  We retired to the sitting room, finding it unoccupied except by three of the rekkit who were setting up the tables for the evening meal. 'Where is the professor?' Reggie asked.

  'I imagine he has gone to inquire of the guards whether there has been any sign of Ramses. I am a little curious myself, so if you will excuse me - '

  'I will go with you.' Reggie shook his head. 'I hope the professor is not planning some rash attack on the guards. He is the bravest of men, but if you will permit me to say so -'

  'No, I will not,' I replied shortly. 'Professor Emerson is not only the bravest of men, he is one of the most intelligent. No doubt your weaker wits are unable to follow the shrewd reasoning that guides his every action. I will brook no criticism of my husband, Mr Forthright - especially from you.'

 

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