“Perchance a lion might appear before the King and he does not leave his claws and teeth behind,” I answered drily as I divested myself of my weapons.
Then we started, the three of us, leaving the chariot in charge of a soldier.
“Draw your sleeves over your hands,” said the eunuch. “None must appear before the King showing his hands, and, dwarf, since you have no sleeves, thrust yours into your robe.”
“What am I to do with my feet?” he answered in a thick, guttural voice. “Will it offend the King of kings to see my feet, most noble eunuch?”
“Certainly, certainly,” answered Houman, “since they are ugly enough to offend even me. Hide them as much as possible. Now we are near, down on your faces and crawl forward slowly on your knees and elbows, as I do. Down, I say!”
So down I went, though with anger in my heart, for be it remembered that I, the modern Allan Quatermain, knew every thought and feeling that passed through the mind of my prototype.
It was as though I were a spectator at a play, with this difference. I could read the motives and reflections of this former ego as well as observe his actions. Also I could rejoice when he rejoiced, weep when he wept and generally feel all that he felt, though at the same time I retained the power of studying him from my own modern standpoint and with my own existing intelligence. Being two we still were one, or being one we still were two, whichever way you like to put it. Lastly I lacked these powers with reference to the other actors in the piece. Of these I knew just as much, or as little as my former self knew, that is if he ever really existed. There was nothing unnatural in my faculties where they were concerned. I had no insight into their souls any more than I have into those of the people about me to-day. Now I hope that I have made clear my somewhat uncommon position with reference to these pages from the Book of the Past.
Well, preceded by the eunuch and followed by the dwarf, I crawled though the sand in which grew some thorny plants that pricked my knees and fingers, towards the person of the Monarch of the World. He had descended from his chariot by help of a footstool, and was engaged in drinking from a golden cup, while his attendants stood around in various attitudes of adoration, he who had handed him the cup being upon his knees. Presently he looked up and saw us.
“Who are these?” he asked in a high voice that yet was not unmusical, “and why do you bring them into my presence?”
“May it please the King,” answered our guide, knocking his head upon the ground in a very agony of humiliation, “may it please the King—”
“It would please me better, dog, if you answered my question. Who are they?”
“May it please the King, this is the Egyptian hunter and noble, Shabaka.”
“I hear,” said his Majesty with a gleam of interest in his tired eyes, “and what does this Egyptian here?”
“May it please the King, the King bade me bring him to the presence, but now when the chariots halted.”
“I forgot; you are forgiven. But who is that with him? Is it a man or an ape?”
Here I screwed my head round and saw that my slave in his efforts to obey the eunuch’s instructions and hide his feet, had made himself into a kind of ball, much as a hedgehog does, except that his big head appeared in front of the ball.
“O King, that I understand is the Egyptian’s servant and charioteer.”
Again he looked interested, and exclaimed,
“Is it so? Then Egypt must be a stranger country than I thought if such ape-men live there. Stand up, Egyptian, and bid your ape stand up also, for I cannot hear men who speak with their mouths in the dust.”
So I rose and saluted by lifting both my hands and bowing as I had observed others do, trying, however, to keep them covered by my sleeves. The King looked me up and down, then said briefly,
“Set out your name and the business that brought you to my city.”
“May the King live for ever,” I replied. “As this lord said,” and I pointed to the eunuch—
“He is not a lord but a dog,” interrupted the Monarch, “who wears the robe of women. But continue.”
“As this dog who wears the robe of women said”—here the King laughed, but the eunuch, Houman, turned green with rage and glowered at me—“my name is Shabaka. I am a descendant of the Ethiopian king of Egypt of that same name.”
“It seems from all I hear that there are too many descendants of kings in Egypt. When I visit that land which perhaps soon I must do with an army at my back,” here he stared at me coldly, “it may be well to lessen their number. There is a certain Peroa for instance.”
He paused, but I made no answer, since Peroa was my father’s cousin and of the fallen Royal House; also the protector of my youth.
“Well, Shabaka,” he went on, “in Persia royal blood is common also, though some of us think it looks best when it is shed. What else are you?”
“A slayer of royal beasts, O King of kings, a hunter of lions and of elephants,” (this statement interested me, Allan Quatermain, intensely, showing me as it did that our tastes are very persistent); “also when I am at home, a breeder of cattle and a grower of grain.”
“Good trades, all of them, Shabaka. But why came you here?”
“Idernes the satrap of Egypt, servant of the King of kings, sought for one who would travel to the East because the King of kings desired to hear of the hunting of lions in the lands that lie to the south of Egypt towards the beginnings of the great river. Then I, who desired to see new countries, said, ‘Here am I. Send me.’ So I came and for three moons have dwelt in the royal city, but till this hour have scarcely so much as seen the face of the great King, although by many messengers I have announced my presence, showing them the letters of Idernes giving me safe-conduct. Therefore I propose to-morrow or the next day to return to Egypt.”
The King said a word and a scribe appeared whom he commanded to take note of my words and let the matter be inquired of, since some should suffer for this neglect, a saying at which I saw Houman and certain of the nobles turn pale and whisper to each other.
“Now I remember,” he exclaimed, “that I did desire Idernes to send me an Egyptian hunter. Well, you are here and we are about to hunt the lion of which there are many in yonder reeds, hungry and fierce beasts, since for three days they have been herded in so that they can kill no food. How many lions have you slain, Shabaka?”
“Fifty and three in all, O King, not counting the cubs.”
He stared at me, answering with a sneer,
“You Egyptians have large mouths. I have always heard it of you. Well, to-day we will see whether you can kill a fifty-fourth. In an hour when the sun begins to sink, the hounds will be loosed in yonder reeds and since the water is behind them, the lions will come out, and then we shall see.”
Now I saw that the King thought me to be a liar and the blood rose to my head.
“Why wait till the sun begins to sink, O King of kings?” I said. “Why not enter the reeds, as is our fashion in the Land of Kush, and rouse the lions from sleep in their own lair?”
Now the King laughed outright and called in a loud voice to his courtiers,
“Do ye hear this boasting Egyptian, who talks of entering the reeds and facing the lions in their lair, a thing that no man dare do where none can see to shoot? What say ye now? Shall we ask him to prove his words?”
Some great lord stepped forward, one who was a hunter though he looked little like it, for the scent on his hair reached me from four paces away and there was paint upon his face.