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Updated: June 25, 2025
Make him thy murket as well, and with him dost thou know what thou canst do with these slaves?
Hath he forgot the place?" She leaned over the parapet and called the ape. The murket looked up. "Anubis is my guest, noble Mentu," she replied. "Wilt thou not come up with him?" The murket looked at her a moment before he answered. "Nay, I thank thee, my Lady. I left the noonday meal that I might be led at the creature's will. He is restless since my son is gone."
"Thou needest, further, the attention of thy slave, Kenkenes," he suggested. The young man shook his head. "Not yet," he said. "My time is short, and it is thy help I need." The murket sat down beside his son. Without further introduction Kenkenes plunged into his story. He had had no time to tell it four days before.
None could fill his place, since to his name was attached the title "the Incomparable," as befitted the artist of that great Pharaoh, likewise titled, who had so loved him and his genius. Meneptah, in memory of Mentu and his artist son who had served his king so well, set up no sculptor nor any murket in his place.
Not for an instant did his father's authority appear to him as an obstacle. He knew that the murket's outburst was a final stand before capitulation. Kenkenes was troubled only for what might follow after his father had surrendered. He followed the murket to the door and laid his arm across the broad shoulders. "Father," he said persuasively. Mentu did not move.
The murket flung up one hand in a gesture of dissent, and arising, walked toward the door of the workroom. There he leaned his shoulder against the frame and looked out at the night. Presently Kenkenes went to him and laid his hand on his sleeve. The murket spoke first, proving what thoughts had been his during the little space of silence. "There is little patriotism in thee, Kenkenes.
"Aye, from the beginning, though not by the bastinado. He rends him with suspense and all the doubts and fears for his love that can haunt him in his cell. But I have more to tell. There was a signet, an all-potent signet, which belonged to the noble Mentu " "Aye, I remember," Rameses broke in. "My grandsire gave it to the murket in recognition of his great work, Ipsambul.
But behold our gallant escort the nomarch ahead, beside us the new cup-bearer and behind us all the rank of the north." "Aye, and when we cast off thou mayest look for the new murket on thy right." The lady blushed. "I have not seen thy father yet, this morning." "So? His robes must fit poorly."
All this was significant, but when the stranger delivered him two rolls, one addressed to the chief of the royal scribes of the Pharaoh, the other to the royal murket, and paid him with a jewel, the Amalekite, convinced and satisfied, prostrated himself. But we may not know what the youth thought when he found that there were few in all Egypt like this princely stranger.
Meneptah would be hedged about with prejudice against his first cause, and deterred by the prior right of Har-hat, in the second. The last man that talked with the king molded him. Flattery alone might prevail against coercion. It was the one hope. Kenkenes seized his pen and wrote: "This from thy subject, Kenkenes, the son of Mentu, thy murket. "I give thee a true story, O Defender of Women.
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