Then Rames seemed to awake. He leapt from his knees, he smote and the
blow went home, though the iron which the Nubian wore beneath his robe
stayed it. He smote again more fiercely, and now it was the blood
of Amathel that flowed. Then bending almost to the ground before the
answering stroke, he leapt and thrust with all the strength of young
limbs trained to war. He thrust and behold! between the broad shoulders
of Amathel pierced from breast to back, appeared the point of the
Egyptian's sword. For a moment the prince stood still, then he fell
backwards heavily and lay dead.

Now, with a shout of rage the giants of the Nubian guard rushed at Rames
to avenge their master's death, so that he must fly backwards before
their spears, backwards into the ranks of the Pharaoh's guard. In a
flash the Nubians were on them also and, how none could tell, a fearful
fray began, for these soldiers hated each other, as their fathers had
done before them, and there were none who could come between them,
since at this feast no man bore weapons save the guards. Fierce was the
battle, but the Nubians lacked a captain while Rames led veterans of
Thebes picked for their valour.

The giants began to give. Here and there they fell till at length but
three of them were left upon their feet, who threw down their arms and
cried for mercy. Then it was for the first time that Rames understood
what he had done. With bent head, his red sword in his hand, he climbed
the dais and knelt before the throne of Pharaoh, saying:

"I have avenged my honour and the honour of Egypt. Slay me, O Pharaoh!"

But Pharaoh made no answer for his swoon still held him.