ay not be
harmed who is the fate of men, from men we ask no help, for all men are
her slaves, and for her beauty's sake all men forsake us. But we will
play the part of men. Our women's milk shall freeze within our breasts,
we will dip our tender hands in blood, ay, scourged by a thousand wrongs
we will forget our gentleness, and tear this foul fairness from its
home. We will burn the Hathor's Shrine with fire, her priests shall
perish at the altar, and the beauty of the false Goddess shall melt like
wax in the furnace of our hate. Say, will ye follow me, my sisters, and
wreak our shames upon the Shameful One, our woes upon the Spring of Woe,
our dead upon their murderess?"

She ceased, and then from every woman's throat within the great Temple
there went up a cry of rage, fierce and shrill.

"We will, Meriamun, we will!" they screamed. "To the Hathor! Lead us
to the Hathor's Shrine! Bring fire! Bring fire! Lead us to the Hathor's
Shrine!"

VI

THE BURNING OF THE SHRINE

Rei the Priest saw and heard. Then turning, he stole away through the
maddened throng of women and fled with what speed he might from the
Temple. His heart was filled with fear and shame, for he knew full well
that Pharaoh was dead, not at the hand of Hathor, but at the hand of
Meriamun the Queen, whom he had loved. He knew well that dead Meneptah
spake not with the voice of the dread Gods, but with the voice of the
magic of Meriamun, who, of all women that have been since the days of
Taia, was the most skilled in evil magic, the lore of the Snake. He knew
also that Meriamun would slay Helen for the same cause wherefore she had
slain Pharaoh, that she might win the Wanderer to her arms. While Helen
lived he was not to be won away.

Now Rei was a righteous man, loving the Gods and good, and hating evil,
and his heart burned because of the wickedness of the woman that once he
cherished. This he swore that he would do, if time were left to him. He
would warn the Helen so that she might fly the fire if so she willed,
ay, and would tell her all the wickedness of Meriamun her foe.

His old feet stumbled over each other as he fled till he came to the
gates of the Temple of the Hathor, and knocked upon the gates.

"What wouldst thou, old crone?" asked the priest who sat in the gates.

"I would be led to the presence of the Hathor," he answered.

"No woman hath passed up to look upon the Hathor," said the priest.
"That women do not seek."

Then