f this stern
soldier, of whom it was said that his every thought was "in the
footsteps of the Ibis,"--the ibis being the god of wisdom.

On the death of Tutankhamon, the question of inviting Horemheb to fill
the vacant throne must have been seriously considered; but there was
another candidate, a certain Ay, who had been one of the most important
nobles in the group of Akhnaton's favourites at El Amarna, and who had
been the loudest in the praises of Aton. Religious feeling was at the
time running high, for the partizans of Amon and those of Aton seem to
have been waging war on one another; and Ay appears to have been
regarded as the man most likely to bridge the gulf between the two
parties. A favourite of Akhnaton, and once a devout worshipper of Aton,
he was not averse to the cults of other gods; and by conciliating both
factions he managed to obtain the throne for himself. His power,
however, did not last for long; and as the priests of Amon regained the
confidence of the nation at the expense of those of Aton, so the power
of Ay declined. His past connections with Akhnaton told against him, and
after a year or so he disappeared, leaving the throne vacant once more.

There was now no question as to who should succeed. A princess named
Mutnezem, the sister of Akhnaton's queen, and probably an old friend of
Horemheb, was the sole heiress to the throne, the last surviving member
of the greatest Egyptian dynasty. All men turned to Horemheb in the hope
that he would marry this lady, and thus reign as Pharaoh over them,
perhaps leaving a son by her to succeed him when he was gathered to his
fathers. He was now some forty-five years of age, full of energy and
vigour, and passionately anxious to have a free hand in the carrying out
of his schemes for the reorganisation of the government. It was
therefore with joy that, in about the year 1350 B.C., he sailed up to
Thebes in order to claim the crown.

He arrived at Luxor at a time when the annual festival of Amon was being
celebrated, and all the city was _en fete_. The statue of the god had
been taken from its shrine at Karnak, and had been towed up the river to
Luxor in a gorgeous barge, attended by a fleet of gaily-decorated
vessels. With songs and dancing it had been conveyed into the Luxor
temple, where the priests had received it standing amidst piled-up
masses of flowers, fruit, and other offerings. It seems to have been at
this moment that Horemheb appeared, while t