of this blood, infinitely stronger than the pull of Akbar. The blood rushed like so many rivers to the sea, through my body. It would not be stopped. Another gush followed, as if a giant storm had driven the river even faster into its delta, its broken and random streams seeking every morsel of flesh.
A wide and wondrous world opened and would have welcomed me, sunlight in the deep forest, but I wouldn’t see it. I broke free. “The Queen, save her from him!” I whispered. Did the blood drip from my lips? No, it was gone inside me.
Marius wouldn’t listen to me. Again a bloody wound was pressed to my mouth, and the blood was driven ever faster. I felt the air fill my lungs. I could feel the length of my own body, sturdy, standing on its own. The blood brightened inside me like light, as though it had enflamed my heart. I opened my eyes. I was a pillar. I saw Marius’s face, his golden eyelashes, his deep blue eyes. His long hair parted in the middle fell to his shoulders. He was ageless, a god.
“Protect her!” I cried. I turned and pointed.
A veil was lifted that had all my life hung between me and all things; now in their true color and shape, they gave forth their deliberate purpose: the Queen stared forward, immobile as the King. Life could not have imitated such serenity, such utter paralysis. I heard water dropping from the flowers. Tiny drops striking the marble floor, the fall of a single leaf. I turned and saw it, curled and rocking on the stones, this tiny leaf. I heard the breeze move under the golden canopied ceiling. And the lamps had tongues of flame to sing.
The world was a woven song, a tapestry of song. The multicolored Mosiacs gleamed, then lost all form, then even pattern. The walls dissolved into clouds of colored mist which welcomed us, through which we could roam forever.
And there she sat, The Queen of Heaven, reigning over all in supreme and unperturbed stillness.
All the yearning of my childish heart was fulfilled. “She lives, she is real, she reigns over Earth and Heaven.”
The King and the Queen. They didn’t stir. Their eyes beheld nothing. They did not look at us. They did not look at the burnt thing as he drew closer and closer to their throne.
The arms of the Royal Pair were covered in many inscribed and intricate bracelets. Their hands rested on their thighs. It was the manner of many an Egyptian statue. But there never has been a statue to equal either of them.
“The crown, she would have her crown,” I said With astonishing vigor I walked forward towards her.
Marius took my hand. Keenly, he watched the progress of the burnt one.
“She was before all such crowns,” Marius said “they do not mean anything to her.”
The thought itself burst with the sweetness of a grape on my tongue. Of course she was there before. In my dreams, she had had no crown. She was safe. Marius kept her safe.
“My Queen,” said Marius from behind me. “You have a supplicant. It is Akbar from the East. He would drink the royal blood What is your will, Mother?”
His voice was so tranquil! He had no fears.
“Mother Isis, let me drink!” cried this burnt creature. He stood up, threw up his arms and created another dancing vision of his former self. He wore human skulls hanging from his belt. He wore a necklace of blackened human fingers! Another of blackened human ears! It was grisly and revolting, yet he seemed to think it seductive and overpowering. At once the image left him. The god from the faraway land was on his knees.
“I am your servant and always was! I slew only the evildoer, as you commanded. I never abandoned your true worship.”
How fragile and insignificant seemed this pleading one, so revolting, so easy to clear away now from her presence. I looked at the King Osiris, as remote and indifferent as the Queen.
“Marius,” I said, “the corn for Osiris; doesn’t he want the corn? He’s the god of the corn.” I was filled with visions of our processions in Rome, of people singing and bearing the offerings.
“No, he doesn’t want the corn,” said Marius. He laid his hand on my shoulder.
“They are true, they are real!” I cried out. “It is all real. Everything is changed. Everything is redeemed.”
The burnt thing turned and glared at me. But I was