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Near midnight, the master of ceremonies announced that the slave women who had been presented to the emperor since his arrival in New Gondar would be exhibited, that the royal host would select such as he wished, after which he would present the balance of them to his guests. Ah, what royal generosity!

A small door at one side of the room opened, and the poor creatures filed in and were ranged in a long line before the throne. Their backs were toward me. I saw only an occasional profile as now and then a bolder spirit among them turned to survey the apartment and the gorgeous assemblage of officers in their brilliant dress uniforms. They were profiles of young girls, and pretty, but horror was indelibly stamped upon them all. I shuddered as I contemplated their sad fate, and turned my eyes away.

I heard the master of ceremonies command them to prostrate themselves before the emperor, and the sounds as they went upon their knees before him, touching their foreheads to the floor. Then came the official’s voice again, in sharp and peremptory command.

“Down, slave!” he cried. “Make obeisance to your sovereign!”

I looked up, attracted by the tone of the man’s voice, to see a single, straight, slim figure standing erect in the center of the line of prostrate girls, her arms folded across her breast and little chin in the air. Her back was toward me–I could not see her face, though I should like to see the countenance of this savage young lioness, standing there defiant among that herd of terrified sheep.

“Down! Down!” shouted the master of ceremonies, taking a step toward her and half drawing his sword.

My blood boiled. To stand there, inactive, while a negro struck down that brave girl of my own race! Instinctively I took a forward step to place myself in the man’s path. But at the same instant Menelek raised his hand in a gesture that halted the officer. The emperor seemed interested, but in no way angered at the girl’s attitude.

“Let us inquire,” he said in a smooth, pleasant voice, “why this young woman refuses to do homage to her sovereign,” and he put the question himself directly to her.

She answered him in Abyssinian, but brokenly and with an accent that betrayed how recently she had acquired her slight knowledge of the tongue.

“I go on my knees to no one,” she said. “I have no sovereign. I myself am sovereign in my own country.”

Menelek, at her words, leaned back in his throne and laughed uproariously. Following his example, which seemed always the correct procedure, the assembled guests vied with one another in an effort to laugh more noisily than the emperor.

The girl but tilted her chin a bit higher in the air–even her back proclaimed her utter contempt for her captors. Finally Menelek restored quiet by the simple expedient of a frown, whereupon each loyal guest exchanged his mirthful mien for an emulative scowl.

“And who,” asked Menelek, “are you, and by what name is your country called?”

“I am Victory, Queen of Grabritin,” replied the girl so quickly and so unexpectedly that I gasped in astonishment.

Chapter 9

Victory! She was here, a slave to these black conquerors. Once more I started toward her, but better judgment held me back–I could do nothing to help her other than by stealth. Could I even accomplish aught by this means? I did not know. It seemed beyond the pale of possibility, and yet I should try.

“And you will not bend the knee to me?” continued Menelek, after she had spoken. Victory shook her head in a most decided negation.

“You shall be my first choice, then,” said the emperor. “I like your spirit, for the breaking of it will add to my pleasure in you, and never fear but that it shall be broken– this very night. Take her to my apartments,” and he motioned to an officer at his side

I was surprised to see Victory follow the man off in apparent quiet submission. I tried to follow, that I might be near her against some opportunity to speak with her or assist in her escape. But, after I had followed them from the throne room, through several other apartments, and down a long corridor, I found my further progress barred by a soldier who stood guard before a doorway through which the officer conducted Victory.