the storm. Black smoke burst out in the hall, the hangings flamed and
tossed in a wind from the open door. The lights were struck from the
hands of the golden images, arrows stood thick in the tables and the
rafters, a spear pierced through the golden cup of Pasht. But out of
the darkness and smoke and dust, and the cry of battle, and through the
rushing of the rain of spears, sang the swallow string of the black bow
of Eurytus, and the long shafts shrieked as they sped on them who were
ripe to die. In vain did the arrows of the slayers smite upon that
golden harness. They were but as hail upon the temple roofs, but as
driving snow upon the wild stag's horns. They struck, they rattled, and
down they dropped like snow, or bounded back and lay upon the board.

The swallow string sang, the black bow twanged, and the bitter arrows
shrieked as they flew.

Now the Wanderer's shafts were spent, and he judged that their case was
desperate. For out of the doors of the hall that were behind them, and
from the chambers of the women, armed men burst in also, taking them on
the flank and rear. But the Wanderer was old in war, and without a match
in all its ways. The Captain of the Guard was slain with a spear stroke,
and the Wanderer took his place, calling to the men, such of them as
were left alive, to form a circle on the daïs, and within the circle he
set those of the house of Pharaoh and the women who were at the feast.
And to Pharaoh he cast a slain man's sword, bidding him strike for life
and throne if he never struck before; but the heart was out of Pharaoh
because of the death of his son, and the wine about his wits, and the
terrors he had seen. Then Meriamun the Queen snatched the sword from his
trembling hand and stood holding it to guard her life. For she disdained
to crouch upon the ground as did the other women, but stood upright
behind the Wanderer, and heeded not the spears and arrows that dealt