Let me go." He ran off and
she sat alone with her doubts and fears. Yet triumph coloured
them too. She saw a dead woman, a dead child, and herself bending
above them. She hid the vessel in her bosom and went out among
her women.
Weeks passed, and never a word that she dreaded from Maya the
Queen. The women of Dwaymenau, questioning the Queen's women,
heard that she seemed to have heavy sorrow upon her. Her eyes
were like dying lamps and she faded as they. The King never
entered her palace. Drowned in Dwaymenau's wiles and beauty, her
slave, her thrall, he forgot all else but his fighting, his
hunting and his long war-boats, and whether the Queen lived or
died, he cared nothing. Better indeed she should die and her
place be emptied for the beloved, without offence to her powerful
kindred.
And now he was to sail upon a raid against the Shan Tsaubwa, who
had denied him tribute of gold and jewels and slaves. Glorious
were the boats prepared for war, of brown teak and gilded until
they shone like gold. Seventy men rowed them, sword and lance
beside each. Warriors crowded them, flags and banners fluttered
about them; the shining water reflected the pomp like a mirror
and the air rang with song.
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