THE LITTLE PHARAOH

      IN FRONT of the blue gates of the palace garden, a small crowd of spectators lazily awaited the moment when Pharaoh would issue in splendor, as his daily custom was. Inside, the stable servants had already harnessed a pair of white horses to Pharaoh's light chariot, which shone with beaten gold. They had strapped gay plumes on the horses' heads, and were pulling back their arched necks with a tight bearing rein. The head slave of the stables in person was seeing to this, lest the little arms of the Pharaoh have trouble in restraining his spirited horses in the sight of the crowd.
      In an open space inside the gate, lightly clad runners stood ready to dash panting through the streets before Pharaoh's chariot, and warn stragglers to stand out of his path. Twenty soldiers and fanbearers were approaching under the command of an officer from the quarters of the guards. Hor, the handsomest of the grooms, who had been chosen on that account to hold the heads of Pharaoh's horses, had taken up his position behind the runners, his hair smoothed over his cars, his body clad in a fresh white plaited kilt.
      The golden chariot was led out, squeaking a little. Hor put up one hand to the bridle of the nearest horse, and the well-trained beasts stood still, while the chariots of the little queen and of the great lords began to range themselves in line.
      There was a movement in the avenue from the palace. Hor stood like a statue as a pair of crouching fanbearers approached backward into his range of vision. Behind them, he knew, walked the Pharaoh, Tut-ankh-amon, girt with the magic jackal's tail and wearing his flashing apron of gold and enamel. Between the swaying fans, he could catch glimpses of the high white crown on the little head, its tip hardly reaching above the shoulder of Ai, the Master of Ceremonies, stalking behind him.
      "This might be a great moment for me," thought Hor, as he always did. "God on earth, the child of Amon himself walks toward me while I hold his horses. He sees me."
      There should have been excitement in this thought, but after two years there was none. Tut-ankh-amon would climb impassively into his chariot. The gates would open. Hor would stand aside, and the procession would dash out into the street. That would be all.
      "And Ai will not see me," added Hor to himself. "Ai never sees me at all."
      It was not to be expected that a very great prince like Al, who was the keeper of the wealth of the kingdom, and who walked behind Pharaoh, should spare a glance for a handsome stable groom who happened to stand in his path. In the last two years he had never done so, and yet Hor had never completely given up hoping that he would.
      On the day when Hor had first been promoted to stand by the horses of the god, he had made a visit to a certain red eyed fortuneteller, whose price was known to be a cheap one because his sight was almost too dim to read the future any more. Still, he was a good magician in his way and knew powerful spells to recite as the sand trickled from his fingers onto the ground. Almost immediately he had agreed with Hor that by this recent promotion his fortune would certainly be made.
      "But whether it be good fortune or bad," he added dreamily, blinking at the sand with his head bent over until his nose was almost touching it, "I cannot perfectly see."
      "I have paid you a good silver bangle which one of our mistress's women lost in the garden," said Hor indignantly. "I have a good mind to take it back from you and break your head."
      "A truly lucky man reverences Mysteries," replied the fortuneteller hastily, "and in any case there is more in the sand." He put his nose down again to explore.
      "Well?" urged Hor after the fortuneteller had smelled over the ground in silence for a minute or two.
      "A man with a cast in his eye," said he in puzzled tones and without straightening up. "A very great man indeed."
      "What about him?"
      "In the right eye,"
      "Well, what has a very great man with a cast in the right eye to do with me?" persisted Hor. "Will he be good for me or bad?"
      The fortuneteller sat up with a sudden jerk and began to rub his eyes and whine. "What have I to do with princes?" he complained. "A poor old blind man like me, and for the price of an old copper bracelet washed over with silver! How should I know that the very great man has anything to do with you at all?”
      "You old fraud!" shouted Hor, seizing him by the scruff of the neck. "So you were not too blind to see the bracelet was copper, but cannot read a man's fortune lying plainly before you! Get down on the ground and look more closely at it!" He tightened his grasp and rubbed the old man's nose in the sand.
      Hor went home in a rage, but the very next day when he stood for the first time beside Pharaoh's horses and watched the fanbearers back down the avenue, with the top of the white crown appearing between their crouching forms, he became conscious that the prince behind Pharaoh squinted a little in one eye.
      It was not a great deal of a cast, and after two years of watching, Hor could not always be sure it was there. Ai's eyes were deep-set, and he used no blue eye-shadow, as the other great lords did. Moreover his thin, lined face was always overhung by the curls of a monstrous wig, very thick at the sides and over the brow. On some days the wig was brown, sometimes it was blue, black, or even dusted with silver, but always it was encircled with a jeweled band. Wig and jewels together served to distract attention from the cautious face, as did the wide collar beneath it, flashing with enamel and precious stones.
      Pharaoh put a small hand on the chariot rail and hoisted himself slowly in. The runners crouched with their hands on the ground in readiness for the start. Hor stood like a stone. The little queen had already mounted, while the lords and princes were taking their places behind. At this instant Ai, Master of Ceremonies, halted, one thoughtful eye measuring Pharaoh, who stood doll-like in the golden chariot. His glance slid slowly over the horses' backs and came to rest on Hor.
      For a long moment Ai deliberately took in Hor from head to foot with a quiet and faintly questioning gaze. Ho dared not stir, but a slow red flush crept up under the fair skin he had inherited from his mother, a blue-eyed slave from the western islands of the sea. "Ai sees me! " he though wildly to himself. "Fame and fortune are between the hands of Ai for a daring man to grasp." He stiffened with anticipation of he knew not what as the great man turned away.
      The procession was ranged in order now, and Pharaoh raised his jeweled whip. Upon the sign, slaves flung back the heavy gates, and the runners dashed panting into the road. Hor sprang away from the horses, as Pharaoh, leaning forward, shook the reins.
      The horses gathered their muscles together for a leap into the gateway, when the left-hand one suddenly raised a. whinnying scream and reared back, appearing to go mad.

      Afterwards it was found that thorns had been inserted under his harness in such a way that the slightest move would drive them deeply into the skin. The brute reared into the air, kicking out with his forehoofs, and fell upon his partner. He in his struggles to be loose broke his tight rein, put his head down, and bolted for the gateway, dragging the raging left-hand beast along.
      The little queen gave a shriek as she saw the golden chariot bounce in the air and come down with a shattering crash. The white crown tumbled from Pharaoh's head, its jeweled streamers flying, and with it fell his majesty. In a second he was only a frightened little boy clinging for dear life to the chariot rail.
      In an instant of time the horses were under the gateway. The chariot rocked within a handsbreadth of the vast square tower by the left of the entrance, swayed perilously a moment, and whipped back with fearful force against the tower on the right.
      The queen screamed again and covered her eyes. She heard a splintering crash as the chariot hit the wall, and then a sound of galloping hoofs and yells outside. Against her will she peered through her fingers. The chariot itself lay in fragments at the foot of the tower, but in the middle of the entrance two dusty figures were rolling in a tangled heap on the ground.

      Hor had been nearest to the Pharaoh as the horses made their desperate leap toward the gate. Moreover he had been tense with excitement, alert to seize whatever possible chance of service Ai had foreseen. In the instant that the rocking chariot swayed by the left-hand tower, he had jumped aboard, seizing Pharaoh around the waist. It had taken him a moment, however, to detach the child's frenzied grip from the rail, with the result that the two shot out of the chariot like stones from a sling only about half a second before the final crash.
      They hit the ground in a huddle, and the next instant was all bumps and bruises, and someone else's knee in one's mouth. As they came to rest in the roadway, people dashed forward, while the little Pharaoh, who was first to get back his breath, began to kick and scream like one possessed.
      "My majesty is hurt! My sacred majesty is bleeding! Leave my majesty alone!"
      None of the attendants dared touch him, and Hor, who was getting most of the kicks, made shift to scramble painfully to one side. The little Pharaoh got to his feet and came after him. "Take that!" he cried furiously, landing a kick. "Take that and that! My majesty is sore!”
      A firm hand clamped tight on Pharaoh's shoulder and pulled him away. "Your majesty is alive," said Ai smoothly. "Thanks be to Divine Amon, your father, since if your godhead had taken flight this day, we should be left desolate on earth."
      "Let me go! cried the little Pharaoh passionately. “I very well know you would like to be son of Amon on earth in my stead."
      Ai dropped his hand at once and bowed slowly and solemnly to Pharaoh. "Your majesty is angered," he answered as he straightened up, "but when the godhead is himself again, he will remember that he cannot do without Ai, his faithful servant, in whose hands all things in the kingdom are."
      It was smoothly said, but there was a certain menace in the politeness of Ai's tone which did not seem to escape the little Pharaoh's ears. His eyes fell to the ground, and he scrabbled moodily in the dust with his toe. The little queen deftly interposed herself between them.
      "You are bruised, Lord of the Earth, and your dress is torn,” she said gently to her husband. "Let my servants bathe and anoint you while a message goes to Amon, your father god, that he may excuse your visit to his temple this day. Give the brave servant some token, for truly he has preserved the happiness of us all."
      Pharaoh took off a bracelet of gold and flung it on the ground beside Ai. "Do you reward the slave, Ai, my servant," he said sulkily, "since you love my majesty so well. It is not fitting that the lips of god should be opened to such a one as he."
      Hor stood before Ai, body bent forward in an attitude of reverence until his hands swung level with his knees. There was silence except for the shuffling feet of the departing procession, while Ai once more looked him up and down. "Pick up your bracelet, slave," said Ai calmly. "To deserve the favor of Pharaoh is not to earn it, but I will see that you are promoted to something fitting by and by."
      Hor stood still humbly, not daring to look up until Ai had turned away. Then stooping rapidly for the bracelet, he cast a glance at the great man's retreating form.
      "Something fitting!" he said to himself. "Ai's voice was very cool toward me, as though I had far from earned his favor by saving Pharaoh's life. It is all very well to have attracted the great man's notice, but I begin to wonder whether I should not have beaten the truth out of that fortuneteller, come what might."
      After this incident, certain slaves mysteriously disappeared from the stable, and one of the great lords was appointed to inspect the harness of Pharaoh every day. Apart from this, events went on as before for nearly a whole moon. At the end of this time the head slave of the stable, a sour old man with a jealous eye for those in favor, sent for Hor.
      "Perhaps I should not have ventured to take up the time of the savior of the All-Highest," he remarked with venom as the young man presented himself.
      "We were cleaning the stables, and I stopped only to wash myself, lest I appear unmindful of the honor of your notice," answered Hor hastily. "We born slaves do not forget that until the Syrian Rebellion you were a free man with horses and slaves of your own."
      "Very proper! Very proper!" nodded the head slave much gratified. "To be sure my position is somewhat different, and our masters notice it. It is a delicate attention on the part of a great prince like Ai that his orders to the grooms of the stable go through me. A distinguished man knows where to condescend!"
      Hor's heart beat faster, but he had learned in a hard school not to show eagerness. "It is hardly probable that Al would give a thought to a miserable groom without your recommendation," he suggested.
      "Very true! My recommendation!" The old man was delighted. "He is an honest lad," I said to Ai, "and knows his station. Promotion will not go to his head. The upshot is that you are to ride in the chariot with Pharaoh when he goes into the hills to shoot gazelle. Pharaoh will drive himself, you understand, but you are to stand behind him and hold the reins also, as the god has not yet come to his full strength. There has been some talk about the accident at the gateway, and the lord who stands behind Pharaoh's throne is naturally the target for every base suspicion."
      "I suppose," said Hor carefully, "that if there were a second accident up in the hills and the wretched slave were killed with Pharaoh, no blame at all could attach to Ai, who had placed a servant of such tried faithfulness in his master's chariot."
      "Just so!" the old man nodded with pleasure. "You have indeed a quick perception. If the wretched slave were killed with Pharaoh! What an honor! But of course the god hunts only gazelle and antelope, harmless creatures. In the Great King's day there were hundreds of lions in the passes of the hills, literally hundreds. He used to slay them singlehanded and in such vast numbers that if you wanted a lion now, you would have to fetch him clear over the desert from the wretched lands of the Libyans, which is hardly possible. You are to inspect the harness for yourself and choose the horses; in fact Ai has put the young god's life completely into your hand."
      "He has indeed," sighed Hor reflecting. "There is a certain old fortuneteller who is dead now, but whom I should have beaten soundly while I had the chance."

       
      On the afternoon of the third day when the heat was past, Pharaoh went hunting. It immediately appeared that he wished to stand alone in his chariot as the grown men did, and he was sulkily determined to make things difficult for Hor. He would deliberately jerk himself about at every bump, and Hor would have to dodge him, lest the sacred person of the god be offended by the common touch of a slave. Since the chariot was very small, open at the back, and entirely springless, it seemed probable that long before the hills were reached, Hor would be lying flat on his back in the road. Such was evidently the Pharaoh's intention, and to make matters worse, the horses of Al followed so closely that Hor would hardly avoid being trampled if he fell to the ground.
      For the first few miles of that journey the lords and attendants were openly grinning at the scene ahead of them in Pharaoh's chariot, but Hor was too busy to notice or mind. He was hopping frantically from one side to the other, or leaning out over the back, one hand on the reins, which he dared not pull, and the other grabbing for dear life at the rail. Fortunately Pharaoh himself was improving in humor as the gasps and thumps of his unhappy servant made music in his ears. There was a faint suspicion of a smile on his face, and he began to relax, the more especially as the path they were traversing was now leaving the fertile green fields by the river and pushing out into the western desert land, strewn with sand and occasional boulders. Here it was necessary for Pharaoh to concentrate on driving if he wished to show the lords behind that he was master of his chariot. He took a firmer grip of the reins and bent forward over the rail. Behind him, Hor carefully suppressed a sigh of relief.
      The high plateau of the western desert came tumbling down into the Valley of the Nile in an irregular cascade of rocks which was split by narrow, twisting valleys where occasional springs nourished some vegetation. At the mouth of one of these gullies waited the huntsmen with their pack of hyena-like dogs, wolf dogs, and greyhounds, all straining at the leash. For twenty-four hours at least these men and their attendant beaters must have been driving game into the head of this valley in order that Pharaoh and his lords might have good sport. Already the sun was far down the sky, and fantastic shadows mingled with bars of rose-gold light to make strange patchwork on the jagged rocks. It was the cool hour when wild creatures came out of their shelters to refresh themselves at such little pools as the valleys possessed.
      "We have beaters posted in the hills around," the chief of the hunters said. "My men declare that great flocks of gazelle and antelope have been driven into this pass."
      "Let the dogs loose," commanded Pharaoh. "My majesty will go forward." He suited the action to the word as the dogs tore into the narrow, winding paths up the sides of the gully, followed by the huntsmen armed with long sticks and filling the echoes with halloos.

      There was a little pool around a bend of this valley, not deep, but already dark with the shadows of evening. Beside it Pharaoh stopped his chariot, took the reins from Hor, and tied them about his waist, so that he might with a bend of his body direct the horses. He took an arrow from his quiver and fitted it carefully to his light bow of polished horn. Hor, left with nothing to do, glanced quickly around him and saw that the nobles were preparing to lasso their game with long straps weighted with stones at one end, leaving the shooting entirely to the king. The black fanbearers and the soldiers of the escort, though chosen for their speed and endurance, came thankfully to a halt behind Pharaoh, panting heavily. Swarms of flies, scenting perspiration, buzzed around them savagely. Hor laid a cautious hand on the hunting spear which stood by Pharaoh's quiver and tested it to see that it slipped easily out.
      Little pebbles were falling down the rocky hillsides, while the rattle of sticks and the cries of the invisible beaters were beginning to be mingled with the patter of galloping feet. A hare came bounding through the rough sagebrush of the valley, swerved suddenly, and vanished into the shadow of the rocks. Another followed and another, but the little Pharaoh, paying no attention to such game, stood with his bow at full stretch, unwilling to waste his first unhurried shot on an inferior quarry.
       A frightened ibex came dashing headlong down the sides of the rock, only to draw up short as he became aware of the danger ahead. For an instant he hesitated, and in that moment the bow twanged. The little Pharaoh, allowing for the probable direction of his swerve with the true instinct of a marksman, dropped him head over heels with an arrow in his chest.
      Hor's heart bounded with admiration at that first, splendid shot, though he modestly left it to the lords and attendants to break into cries of applause. In another few moments the whole valley was a wild confusion of mountain sheep, gazelle, antelope, jackals, and smaller creatures. The Pharaoh, who could not yet control himself amid excitement, began shooting so much at random that Hor perceived the reason for all the company being posted so very respectfully behind. His arrows glanced off rocks in every direction; they whizzed over the ears of the patient horses; they even stuck in the ground a few feet from the chariot itself. Now and then one hit some animal or other, at which the Pharaoh raised a yell of pleasure and jumped for joy, with the result that his next shot went anywhere.
      The first rush of the frightened animals was quickly over. A few stragglers appearing around the bend of the ravine saw the confusion ahead and dodged back into safety, preferring to try to outwit the beaters along the rocky trails. Before Hor had time to make any movement, the Pharaoh suddenly loosened the reins by leaning forward while he slashed savagely at the horses with his bow. The soldiers of the escort had not time to do more than raise their shields and straighten before Pharaoh had vanished up the little ravine in a cloud of dust.
      Taken off balance by the sudden move, Hor grabbed fiercely at the rail once more and narrowly escaped being thrown out on the ground headlong. With a shattering crash the chariot hit a stone as it rounded a corner. It bounded high in the air, coming down with such violence that nothing but its beautiful workmanship saved it from breaking apart. Careless for once of knocking against his royal master, Hor put his arms around Pharaoh's body and seized the reins, leaning backward and pulling with all his strength. To his relief, the well-trained horses immediately responded, coming violently to a halt in a small, almost circular space between jagged rocks. For the moment this was empty of beaters, though they were to be heard farther up the pass and could be glimpsed on the hillsides far above their heads. Neither sheep nor antelope were to be seen. The only animal visible anywhere was a lion.

         The creature was standing on a low rock in full view, half turned away from them toward the head of the valley where shouts and barking were coming very close. Hor had scant time for wondering how the lion had got there before Pharaoh, tearing himself free from his slave's embrace, let fly an arrow that hit the beast directly in the ribs at point-blank range.
      It was a good shot, though appallingly foolhardy, since Pharaoh's thin arms, which could not control his horses, drew far too light a bow to kill a lion. With a terrible roar, the animal turned upon them. As it sprang Hor hurled the hunting spear and hit it full on the wicked head protected by the heavy skull and matted hair. He did nothing but divert the beast a little, yet only this and the panic of the horses saved them. Each of the horses strove to turn the opposite way and reared in a maddened effort to force his brother round. Thus the lion's spring, which had been shortened by Hor's attack, fell full upon the horses, encumbered as they were by their harness and the chariot pole.
      Hor had not waited to see the effect of his weapon, but leaped for his life from the rocking chariot, dragging Pharaoh helplessly after him. They rolled behind a rock, just clear of the terrible struggle in which the chariot swung around and was shattered, the horses kicked savagely, and the growls and screams of the fighting animals rose on the air. Staggering to his feet, Hor saw the left-hand horse tear itself free and gallop off, streaming with blood from various gashes. The other was down on the ground and struggling, but feebly. There was no time to be lost, Hor snatched at the Pharaoh's bow, which lay beside him, but the arrows were strewn in the wreck of the chariot a little way off. Desperately he ran in and tried to seize one, but the movement merely attracted the attention of the raging beast. Turning from the dying horse, it struck out viciously at Hor and felled him with a great, raking blow from its front paws. Even as it did so, the frantic soldiers of the escort burst into sight around the rock and discharged an irregular volley of spears.
      Diverted from Hor by these new tormentors, the lion gathered himself together and tried to spring. Evidently he could not, for his sides were bristling with spears, and for an instant he collapsed upon the ground. Then raising himself upon his forelegs, he began to crawl forward, roaring terribly and with the evident intention of killing once more before he died. So formidable was his appearance that the soldiers scattered before him, most of them having already thrown their hunting spears. For a moment the narrow bend was a scene of confusion, as the fleeing soldiers collided with the lords and the huntsmen coming up after them.

      Fortunately for some, the lion's strength was exhausted. He could go no farther, but stood there roaring at them until the cliffs re-echoed, supporting himself upon his forepaws, and with four spears sticking in his side. One man, bolder than the rest, ran in with a sword to make an end. Before he could do so, the animal fell with one last defiant roar. Men rushed past him hastily to assist the Pharaoh, who had picked himself up and was regarding a little shakily the ruin he had caused.
      Hor, who had not completely lost consciousness, was vaguely aware of the little Pharaoh crying, "He is my first lion. I hit him! I am going to be a lion hunter like my great-great-grandfather. You must measure him from head to tail at once!" Hor groaned feebly, and a man knelt by him with a water skin. He unstoppered the pipe and let it run a little, but Hor could not raise his head to drink. He groaned agrain.
      Servants came over to fan away flies and to try and bandage Hor's chest with such pieces of their garments as they could spare. "He ran in on the lion," said the captain of the soldiers. "Had it not been for him, the beast would have sprung upon Pharaoh."
      "Will the man die?" asked the Pharaoh with half-indifferent curiosity,
"Perhaps not, great god," answered one of the huntsmen. "He is greatly torn, but he is a young man and very strong."
      "I will make him a free man and a captain if he lives," said Pharaoh, "for this is my first lion, and it is fitting that the slave should remember this day. I hit him square behind the shoulder and was not afraid, fierce though he was. I will have pictures made of this hunt, and on other days I will kill more lions. Men must fetch them from the Libyan desert if there are none to be found in the hills. They say that a lion has not been seen here for thirty years."
      This being what the company was thinking, a dead silence followed Pharaoh's last remark, and those who supposed themselves unnoticed glanced at Ai. His lean countenance remained perfectly unmoved, but he stepped forward a pace and bowed to Pharaoh with a flourish. "I thank the good god," said he, "because in rewarding the slave he approves my service. As it was I who placed this young man in Pharaoh's chariot, it is through my care that the king is safe and has slain the lion."
      "Am I indeed to owe you the lion?" asked Pharaoh maliciously. "There is no end to your care, my lord, it seems.”
      A half-smile crossed the faces of those who dared to express their feelings, but Ai merely bowed again to the king and said, "Honor paid to this slave is paid to me, and with your permission, I will let men know that such is the fact." Two men immediately stepped forward to lay their cloaks on Hor, while the slave with the water passed his hand under the wounded man's head and put to his lips the silver cup which he carried for the exclusive use of Pharaoh himself. Ai saw it and smiled. "Honor is indeed paid to me," he said.