Pharaoh’s expression was one of cold indifference. Throughout the whole scene the apathetic monarch seemed not to be conscious of where he was or of what he was doing. It is true, he successfully finished each and every detail of the exacting ritual of Amen. But, what he did, he did mechanically. The last mock-reverence finished, Pharaoh retired. As his throne was borne swiftly toward the royal barge, his mask of impassibility vanished. He sank back and allowed his gaze to travel from one side to the other. There was an air of expectancy in each turn of his head. He even went so far as to bow to the acclamations of his people, and this not a little to their bewilderment, since Pharaohs, in public, were customarily, at best, but breathing statues. Scarcely had the king set foot upon the deck of his beautiful barge, “Star of the Gods,” when a frightful tumult broke out along the bank, immediately fronting the great barge of Amen. Wild shrieks from the women-of-the-temple, hoarse and angry cries from the men, intermingled with mocking laughter and shouts of derision. A great crowd of angry priests of Amen might be seen pushing their way through the dense crowd which was massed in front of the giant statues of Thothmes, whose temple stood near by. Frantic attempts were being made by the priests of Amen to burst through this crowd. Yet each insistent attempt ended in failure, as did a last charge in one serried block. The crowd itself was by now so divided into factions that blows were falling right and left, and hapless people were constantly being trampled under foot. Shrieking: “Sacrilege! Sacrilege!” the priests turned and rushed headlong to their boats. The Holy figure of the Hidden One, the sacred Statue of Amen, the sun-god, had disappeared. The followers of Aton had scored their first success, and that success one of tremendous import! CHAPTER XII ENANA CALLS TO HIS AID THE GODS JUSTICE AND VENGEANCE The nameless horror that had driven the youthful Unis from his side had no terrors for Enana the Magician. Enana stood bathed in the palpitating glow of the self-illuminated Book. Slowly he approached his hands to its cover, a cover as white as the sandals of the gods themselves. The instant Enana’s shriveled fingers came in contact with its radiance, a sudden change came over him. Enana’s face glowed; a circle of light played about his head. His eyes blazed with a light of triumph. Holding the Magic Book before him, he commenced to sway back and forth, back and forth, like some mystic of the temple about to prophesy. The aged Magician began to speak, softly at first, but with a flow of words that scarcely waited for breath.