"Nay, sweet," was his answer. "If Arthur be not shamed of his own cuckolddry, then must the Table Round avenge the pride of Britain for him. But, hark! Gareth calls. I must leave thee, love. Farewell. I return soon." He strode from the hall, proud and straight in his armor. She wept and could not tell why. "Gawaine, my lord!" she sobbed. "There bodes in me a sense that nevermore shall we twain meet...." "_Go back!" a voice was whispering in Sandra's mind. "Back farther still. To the days of the past...._" The _daryeb_ glided, soft as the wing of a moth, upon the smooth blue waters of the Nile. The golden cascade of the sun baked the _sudd_ that floated on the water's surface. She raised her finger imperiously and the boatsman obediently turned the light craft to the shore. As the Nubian reefed the sail, a young man ran down from the portal of the observatory to the edge of the beach. He grasped her hands eagerly. "Belia!" He bent and smothered a kiss in her perfumed hair. She drew away, pouting. "Now, by Set," she swore prettily, "thou are more ardent than the bulls of Anubis--when the sun shines. But at night where art thou? In there--star-gazing!" She glanced distastefully at the massive pyramid built by the Pharoah Cheops for his astronomers. Her lover's bronzed face sobered. "Great things betoken, lovely Belia. Things thou wouldst scarce understand." He pointed to the blinding orb that blazed above them. "Hear, now--ever has man thought that Ra drives his golden chariot about our mother Earth. But now I, silent and alone, have learned a greater truth. It is not the sun that moveth--but _we_! Ra's abode is the hub about which our tiny mote revolveth! This message have I sent, with my proofs thereof, to the great Pharoah. When he has read them, glory and fame will be my lot!" A swift fang of fear, sharper than the sting of the scorpion, knifed her heart. Her voice was deep and low. "You speak sacrilege, my love! What have you done? Not fame will be thy lot--but swift death! This thing cannot be so...." "_Into the years beyond," came the whispered command. "Project yourself still further backward, woman from the past. Back ... and back ... and back...._" Dank, steamy rain splattered on her crouched back, plastering the long, coarse hair to her naked body. A tongue of flame ripped from the thunderous vault above and the gods roared in mighty anger. She was Thaa, daughter of Gor, mate of Bab the Hungry One. Hunkered against the farthest wall of their cave, she shivered with cold and fright as she clutched her mewling newborn to her downy breast. Ten days had the god-tears fallen, now, turning the world into a morass of water. The time of Great Cold approached, when meat was scarce and comfort scarcer. Thaa shivered. Again the gods hurled a shaft of forked light down the skies. Bab, glowering at the cave mouth, called to her. "Thaa! See?"