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Updated: June 25, 2025
Har-hat could not add to his sentence. That was the only indisputable cheer he could give. But would Rameses stay the chief adviser's hand, seeing that the winning of Masanath depended on the prince's neutrality, as Hotep had explained? If Rachel fled to Mentu, as Kenkenes had bidden her, could the murket protect her, even at his own peril?
"But who art thou?" "I am the son of Mentu, the murket." "The son of Mentu? Enough. If a drop of that man's blood runneth in thy veins, thou art as steadfast as death. Surely the gods are with me." He opened a second compartment in the end of the table, but before he found what he sought he raised himself, suddenly. "If thou art that son of the murket," he asked, "how is it thou art not dead?"
"Thus far had I hoped that thou wast taken by the Israelite but in thy fancy. The hope was vain. Thou art in love with her." Kenkenes endured the steady gaze and waited for Mentu to go on. "There is no help for thee now," the murket continued stoically.
After these writings came, with all fidelity, to the hands of those who loved him in Egypt, silence fell between them and Kenkenes. Meneptah erected no more monuments after the eighth year of his reign, for in that year Mentu, the murket, died.
"Thy faith is entire," she commented. "Also, have I cause to remember thee. Thou didst display a courteous spirit in Tape, a year agone." "Thou hast repaid me with the flattery of thy remembrance, Lady Miriam," he replied. "Thy speech publishes thee as noble," she went on calmly. "Thy name?" "Kenkenes, the son of Mentu, the murket." Her lips parted suddenly and her eyes gleamed.
"Thou hast among thy ministers a noble genius, the murket, Mentu " The king broke in with a dry smile. "Wouldst have him for a mate?" She shook her head till the emeralds pendent from the fillet on her forehead clinked together. Nothing could have been more childlike than the pleased smile on her face. "Nay, nay, he would not have me," she protested. "But he hath a son."
A mysterious Providence shielded her. Anubis, which she formally claimed as hers, was the only one of the numerous dumb dwellers in the fan-bearer's house that had escaped. And of him there is something to be told. Shortly after the arrival of the Israelites in Memphis, Anubis disappeared for days. "He is gone to visit the murket," Masanath explained.
Never before did her eyes so shine or her smile so flash within the cloud of gauzes that mantled and covered her. Kenkenes wondered for a moment if he must explain the change in his countenance to her also. But the beauty had herself in mind at that moment. "Kenkenes, thou hast given me no opportunity to wish thee well, as the son of the murket."
Then thou shalt choose for me, O my generous Prince." "Follow thy father. I would have thee for my murket. Nay, it is ever so. I mold the Pharaoh and he gets the credit." "And thou, the blame, when blame accrues from the molding," Menes put in very distinctly, though under his breath. "But be thou of cheer, O Son of the Sun," Kenkenes added.
"Thou must know," he continued, explaining, "the Athor of the hills is not my first sacrilege. Once I committed a worse. My father was the royal sculptor to Rameses and is now Meneptah's murket." Rachel glanced at him shyly and sought to withdraw her hand, for she recognized the loftiness of the title. But he retained his clasp. "He is a mighty genius. He planned and executed Ipsambul.
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