"Now what does that mean?" I asked of Bes.

"Neither more nor less than we have heard, Master. The two King's
messengers who have gone ahead of us all the way from the city, have
told the officer of the frontier fort that we are coming, so he has
advanced to the ford to meet us, for what purpose I do not know."

"Nor do I," I said, "but I wish we could take another road, if there
were one."

"There is none, Master, for above and below the canal is full of water
and the banks are too steep for horses to climb. Also we must show no
doubt or fear."

He thought a while, then added,

"Take the royal seal, Master. It may be useful."

He gave it to me, and I examined it more closely than I had done
before. It was a cylinder of plain white shell hung on a gold chain,
that which Bes had bitten through, but now mended again by taking out
the broken link. On this cylinder were cut figures; as I think of a
priest presenting a noble to a god, over whom was the crescent of the
moon, while behind the god stood a man or demon with a tall spear.
Also between the figures were mystic signs, meaning I know not what.
The workmanship of the carving was grown shallow with time and use for
the cylinder seemed to be very ancient, a sacred thing that had
descended from generation to generation and was threaded through with
a bar of silver on which it turned.