The youthful Ramses, leader of the recent successful expedition against the Nubians, had won for himself many titles of distinction. Yet, chief among these undoubtedly, was his new appointment to the rank of Fan-Bearer-on-the-Right-of-Pharaoh.

The post of Fan-Bearer was an office eagerly sought by the more exalted nobles, since it gave one the ear of Pharaoh, as did perhaps no other position at Court. The one possible exception was the post held by Dedu, son of Den, through four generations at least, the coveted post of Keeper-of-the-King’s-Robes.

The title of Fan-Bearer had been given Ramses by Pharaoh at Thi’s earnest solicitation. The Queen-Mother had been prompted to this step through no love she bore the youthful soldier, but as part of a plan which was intended to lull the stubborn adherents of Amen into a sense of false security.

The aged Enana, grandfather to Ramses, was the subject of the Queen-Mother’s especial detestation. Indeed, detestation was by far too mild a word to express her feelings in respect to the old magician.

By conferring the title of Fan-Bearer upon Enana’s grandson, Thi hoped to put Enana and the other followers of Amen off their guard. For, would not the very title imply a definite and continuous sojourn in the capital?

Yet, of late, Thi felt that the attempt to keep the young soldier near the Court had been ill-advised. For various rumors, vague hints of an alarming nature, had reached the ears of Menna the Overseer.

These ill-defined rumors had been promptly reported to Thi, with various embellishments, of course, on the part of Menna, son of Menna.

Without a doubt, someone who knew the Court, someone who was familiar with the secret intrigues of harem life in the palace, had been quietly spreading broadcast palace secrets of a most terrifying nature.

One report had it that the present Pharaoh was a Syrian, born before Thi’s parents came down into Egypt.

It was hinted that Yakab the Chancellor was his true father. Had they not both the same extraordinarily attenuated figure? Did not both suffer from the same racking cough? Did not both speak with a marked lisp? Thi, the Queen-Mother, was almost stout; the late Pharaoh had been a corpulent man, in his youth possessed of unusual strength. The face was that of Thi, perhaps, but the body that of Yakab the Chancellor!

Yes, it was plain that Thi had done away with Pharaoh’s former wife, the Lady Hanit; that Menna and Thi had planned the murder of the true heir to the throne, the Lady Hanit’s son, in order that Yakab’s son, by Thi, might ascend the Egyptian throne.

Finally it was whispered that the murdered Prince still lived; that he had escaped from Menna, son of Menna, into whose baleful charge he had been placed.

All unwittingly, Ramses had been drawn into this maelstrom of palace intrigue. His name was frequently mentioned in connection with the probable succession to the throne.

The subject of a successor to the Horus Throne was one of great importance at this moment. Queen Noferith had borne the king but girls—“five little beams of Shu the sun-god” their royal father had playfully called them. And of these one had recently become the perfume of the heavenly lotus which the sun-god holds to his august face!

Pharaoh felt sure that Ramses himself knew nothing of these rumors. In many a bitter discussion with his mother and Menna the Overseer Pharaoh had frequently stated his conviction that Ramses would utterly condemn such traitorous thoughts should they ever come to his ears.

Pharaoh had loved Ramses like a brother. He had admired him as some superior being. For a time neither Menna’s craftily embellished reports nor Thi’s openly avowed hatred of Enana’s grandson could turn Pharaoh from his blind trust in the good faith of his boyhood’s hero.

Himself ever a sickly child, Pharaoh had sighed for his coming of age, that he might take the field with Ramses, and be himself a witness of the latter’s many deeds of valor.

For years had Pharaoh pictured himself in the famous Warbonnet of the Pharaohs, that bright blue headdress which Thothmes and a long line of heroic forebears had carried far into the ranks of their stricken foes and, with one exception, returned in safety to their acclaiming people. Yes, even King Sequenen’s horrible death, at the hands of the Hyksos invaders, was better far than his present life of inaction, a life varied only by tiresome harem plots, counterplots and the probabilities of a general religious or civil upheaval.

But Pharaoh, under Thi’s baleful influence, was as pliable as the clay in the deft fingers of the potter. The Queen-Mother presently took fright at these oft-repeated and ever highly-colored rumors, and it was not long before she and Menna had convinced Pharaoh that the grandson of Enana, at Thebes, was a constant menace.

Thus, when “the rewards of the King” were yet warm in Ramses’ hands, that happy young warrior was dismayed to receive a roll of papyrus, straight from the hands of Majesty, a brief note whose finely written contents necessitated another exile from Sesen, from Thebes and the home he so dearly loved, the villa of Enana the Magician, his grandsire. Ramses was commanded to depart for the north with the setting of the morrow’s sun, there to take over the Egyptian army guarding the hostile frontier in Asia. Bitter disappointment, and somewhat of anger, caused the voice of Ramses to tremble as he directed his chairmen to set him down at Enana’s villa.

The home of Ramses’ grandsire was built upon a circular island on the western side of the Nile. Seen from a distance, this island appeared to float upon the quiet waters. The low white walls which surrounded its garden, its branching cedars, full crested palms and feathery mimosa trees, were mirrored in the waters of the inundation.

Enana the Magician had felt called upon to live comparatively near to Semet, Thebes’ unending burial ground, since, during the former monarch’s lifetime he had been appointed “Guardian of the Royal Tombs.”

Enana was proud of his skill in necromancy; Enana was even more proud of his knowledge of astrology, botany, medicine and of his intimate acquaintance with the Magic Scrolls of the Conjurers and Sorcerers of Amen. But, above all else, Enana enjoyed hearing himself addressed as Guardian of the Ancestors, whenever a summons from Majesty or a Court Function had necessitated his presence at the Palace. Alas, as far as Enana and Renet, his wife, were concerned, such functions had long since ceased!

Nevertheless, to-day was a gala day with Enana, a day of rejoicing to his entire household. For to-day Enana, son of Enana, had arrived at the ever-prayed for one hundred and ten years!

One other living person alone could boast of such a record and that was the father of Thi, the Queen-Mother. But Iuya was only a nobleman by courtesy, an Asiatic, an heretical believer in Aton. Enana scorned Iuya as a pretentious old scoundrel, who spent the major part of his time decrying everything Egyptian and lauding Syria, and all things Syrian.

All morning had the aged Magician, and the Lady Renet, his wife, sat beside the garden pool listening to the effusive congratulations of his friends, his neighbors, and the many members of his house and wide domain.

All that morning his bustling servants had been busy arranging the various presents along the awning-shaded corridor which faced the tree-set garden.

Bars and collarettes of gold, electrum and silver; bead stands of lazuli, malachite, crystal, carnelian, amethyst, beryl, jasper; great pendants in gold, silver or bright blue fayence; finger-rings of gold encrusted with colored pastes or set with little green glazed beetles, carved in stone and engraved below with felicitous expressions; treasures big and little were piled high in seemingly innumerable vessels and exposed on brightly painted wooden tables or stands along the halls and corridors.

Clusters of white, soft pink or pale blue lotus flowers were bound about frames bent to represent the anekh or sign of “longevity.” The nofer or sign of “happiness,” in the shape of little lutes, hung from every branch in the garden.

There had been but one thing lacking in a morning of never-to-be-forgotten successes. As Khufu the Butler had remarked, not a single member of the Royal House had visited their honored master; not even a Royal Usher had come with the customary messages of felicitation or with the usual “gold of honor.” To Khufu, as to the other devoted servants of the aged Magician, this neglect was the occasion of grave concern.

Not so to Enana! Well he knew the reason of this breach of courtesy, this public affront.

Enana’s early training had been behind the walls of Amen’s great temple in the Apt. There for years had he served Amen, God of Thebes, as chorister, incense-bearer, lector, keri heb and, lastly, as Chief Magician.

Enana was known as a devoted follower of Amen, as an ardent and incorruptible believer in the power of the greatest of all gods, Amen of Thebes. As such he knew well that he had incurred the undying hatred of Thi the Syrian, whose one ambition in life, now that her son was established on the throne, was the overthrow of Amen and the destruction of all the other local gods of Egypt. If Thi could compass it, Aton, the Syrian sun-god, should be the sole object of worship from Suan of the north to Suan of the south.

At the present moment, however, Enana had pushed from his mind all thoughts of Thi. All his present enjoyment was centered in the scheme next his heart and in his anticipation of seeing Ramses, his grandson, whom it mostly concerned.

At any moment the young soldier might dash through the gate in that impetuous way so dear to the frail old man.

Enana sat with his wrinkled hands resting upon the squares of gold leaf with which his tunic was faced. His beady black eyes were fixed upon the open door, his ears alert to catch the first shout of Ramses’ bearers, as they rounded the great Mortuary Temple near by. From time to time his hand went to his bosom where rested the magic book.

But the sun-god began his descent into the realms of darkness, lights broke out in the distant city, a line of chanting priests bearing torches appeared upon the walls of Amenhotep’s temple, the light upon the high stand at Enana’s elbow was lit. Yet Ramses did not come.

Ah, Enana, but a little patience! Magician though thou art, the Goddess Hathor is more powerful than thou!

Even as Ramses had finished reading the royal command and set his hand to the arm of his carrying-chair, Seneb the Usher advanced bowing and handed him a second note.

Joy lit up the stern face of the young soldier as he read; a sudden animation seemed to fill his whole being. Bidding his chairmen await him in the outer court, he turned and followed Seneb, the Usher, through the columned aisles of the Audience Hall.

Arrived before the line of granite sphinxes which fronted the Treasury of Silver, Seneb bowed again, turned on his heel and left him.

Three women stood beneath a doorway which fronted the innermost court. Eagerly Ramses advanced as the form of the Princess Sesen stepped out from its shadows:

“Sesen, they told me thou wert with thy Father in Thinis! Had I known, in truth, that the Palace held thee, I would have come to claim thy promised reward.

“By Hathor! Thou are more radiantly beautiful than when I left thee last! How often have I lain awake at night thinking of thee. The hot nights upon the desert sand passed quickly, restfully, for dreams of thee!

“Sesen, thou knowest all my love; all my hopes are centered in thee. What are the rewards of Majesty to the reward that thou hast promised me—thyself. Look! I have kept my word. I found the famous jewel which Enana told thee of and—it is thine!”

Slowly Ramses drew from his girdle a great emerald set in gold. A rose-colored band of fine gazelle hide showed it to have been worn about the forehead of its former owner, the Nubian King.

King Shaba will need “the panther’s eye” no more. His ashes lie beneath the smouldering ruins of his palace. Vultures hover above the demolished houses of Napata, his Capital.

Sesen clasped her hands upon her bosom with delight. Without replying she took the jewel from Ramses’ hand and bound it about her gold-filleted wig. Ramses smiled down upon the happy little maid, as she sank into his arms. The great jewel seemed to glow upon her forehead, as if it pulsed to the rapid beating of her heart:

“Sesen, my Lotus! I love thee, I love thee!”

“And I, Ramses, my hero, feared for thee. Hathor’s altar has groaned beneath the burden of my offerings for thy safe return.”

Her words brought to Ramses’ mind the command of Pharaoh. He had found her but to lose her.

“Dove of Hathor, but a few short weeks and I return to claim thee for the Lady of my House.”

“Thou returnest? Whither goest thou?”

“Alas, my Dove! The King commands that I head the Egyptian host which now stands facing Kheta and her allies in Syria. By to-morrow’s sunset I must leave to help old Noferhotep with his task. Yet, have no fear for me. The Little People, I think, do but try out Noferhotep. He, poor man, grows weary of the task of waiting, with nothing but patrol work at best to break the monotony of his years of frontier life. Fear not for me. I have thy love, my Sesen! If need be, I could cut my way through Asia, with thy name my battle-cry. To-morrow I will see thee after the morning service. The Lady Renet and her maids will come to escort thee to our house for the betrothal. Breath of Ra, how happy will she be, she and Enana, my grandsire. Now must I hurry to them. As thou knowest, ’tis a gala day with my grandsire. May Hathor bless thee, my Sesen; may Aah cast her protecting beams about thee.”

For an instant the lovers held one another in a close embrace. The next, Ramses had mounted his chair. As he did so, twinkling lights broke out among the dark patch of trees in which stood Enana’s distant villa.