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The great artist reentered in court robes of creamy linen, stiff with embroidery and gold stitching. "Har-hat passes through Memphis to-day on his way to Tape, where he is to be installed as bearer of the king's fan on the right hand. He is at the palace, and nobles of the city go thither to wait upon him." "The king was not long in choosing a successor to the lamented Amset," Kenkenes observed.
"If harmony is here," he said with meaning, "you will find it in the instrument." Again, a voice from the general conversation broke in this time from Rameses. "Kenkenes hath outlasted an army of other singers. I knew him as such when mine uncles yet lived and my father was many moves from the throne. It was while we dwelt unroyally here in Memphis. They made thee sing in the temple, Kenkenes.
They had entered this when the priest, with a startled exclamation, sprang behind one of the recumbent monsters in time to avoid the frolicsome salutation of an ape. "Anubis! Mut, the Mother of Darkness, lends you her cloak! Out!" Kenkenes cried, striking at his pet.
His gaze met hers and, for a moment, dwelt. All the attraction of her gorgeous habiliments, her warm assurance and her inceptive tenderness detached themselves from the general fusion and became distinct. Her beauty, her fervor, her audacity, were not unusually pronounced on this occasion, but the spell for Kenkenes was broken and the inner working's were open to him.
He carried a knife at the juncture of the neck and shoulder. Instantly there was a chorus of yells. "She-devil! Hyena!" Unas detached himself from the struggle and plunged after Rachel, now in full sight of Kenkenes.
"It may be," the fan-bearer replied musingly, "but thy nephew, holy Father, is conspicuously tall and well-muscled. Likewise, he is a sculptor. Furthermore, the two slaves came home badly abused. Unas has some proof for his tale " "Kenkenes is the soul of fidelity," the high priest retorted warmly. "He has had unnumbered opportunities to betray the gods and he has ever been steadfast."
"A sister, my comforter, my one friend!" "Thou canst find sisters and comforters and friends among high-born women of Egypt. I had laid Kenkenes' folly concerning this Israelite to the moonshine genius in him. But the slave is a sorceress, for the madness touches whosoever looks upon her. Behold her worshipers first, thy father, Kenkenes, Hotep and thyself, and the gods know whom else.
How was he fortified? What would be his next play? How much more did he know? And while Hotep asked himself these things, trembling for Kenkenes, Har-hat put the same questions to himself. The roll of papyrus, with its seals, still in the young man's hands, was significant. He folded his arms and forced the issue. "Your proof," he demanded. "Both the hour and need of my proof are past.
Again, clear and with offensive emphasis, Siptah's voice was heard disputing, in the general babble. "Magnify the cowardice of the Rebu if you will, but it was Har-hat who made them afraid," he was saying. The slow eyes of Rameses turned in the direction of the tacit challenge. Menes' black brows knitted at Siptah, but Kenkenes came to the rescue.
Gnats wove their mazes in the narrow casement that opened on the outside world, and now and then the twitter of birds sounded very close to it. Kenkenes knew how they flashed as they flew in the sun. They were prodigal of freedom. At nightfall, if he stood at full height against the door, he could see a thread of cooling sky with a single star in its center.
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