But Rames also wore a sword, that sword hafted with the golden crocodile
which Pharaoh had given him long ago--that sword which Asti the
foresighted had seen red with royal blood. With a wild, low cry he
snatched it from its sheath, and to avoid the blow that Amathel struck
at him before he could guard himself, sprang backwards from the dais
to the open space in the hall that had been left clear for the dancers.
After him leapt Amathel calling him "Coward," and next instant the
pillars echoed, not with Tua's music but with the stern ringing of
bronze upon bronze.

Now in their fear and amaze men looked up to Pharaoh, waiting his word,
but Pharaoh, overcome by the horror of the scene, appeared to have
swooned; at least, he lay back in his chair with his eyes shut like one
asleep. Then they looked to the Queen, but Tua made no sign, only with
parted lips and heaving breast watched, watched and waited for the end.

As for Rames he forgot everything save that he, a soldier and a noble
of royal race, had been struck across the mouth by a black Nubian who
called himself a prince. His blood boiled up in him, and through a
red haze as it were, he saw Tua's glorious eyes beckoning him on to a
victory. He saw and sprang as springs the lion of the desert, sprang
straight at the throat of Amathel. The blow went high, an ostrich plume
floated to the ground--no more, and Amathel was a sturdy fighter and had
the strength of madness. Moreover, his was the longer weapon; it fell
upon the scales of armour of Rames and beat him back, it fell again
on his shoulder and struck him to his knee. It fell a third time,
and glancing from the mail wounded him in the thigh so that the blood
flowed. Now a soldier of Pharaoh's guard shouted to encourage his
captain, and the Nubians shouted back, crying to their prince to slit
the hog's throat.