In the Kyoung across the river he can hide
one child among the novices. Cut his hair swiftly and put upon
him this yellow robe. The time is measured in minutes."
Then the Queen perceived, standing by the pillar, a monk of a
stern, dark presence, the creature of Dwaymenau. For an instant
she pondered. Was the woman selling the child to death? Dwaymenau
spoke no word. Her face was a mask. A minute that seemed an hour
drifted by, and the yelling and shrieks for mercy drew nearer.
"There will be pursuit," said the Queen. "They will slay him on
the river. Better here with me."
"There will be no pursuit." Dwaymenau fixed her strange eyes on
the Queen for the first time.
What moved in those eyes? The Queen could not tell. But
despairing, she rose and went to the silent monk, leading the
Prince by the hand. Swiftly he stripped the child of the silk
pasoh of royalty, swiftly he cut the long black tresses knotted
on the little head, and upon the slender golden body he set the
yellow robe worn by the Lord Himself on earth, and in the small
hand he placed the begging-bowl of the Lord.
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