It
shall trouble me no more."
Hotep lifted his brows, as though he exclaimed to himself, and made no
answer. Kenkenes greeted the guests with a wave of his hand and did
obeisance before Rameses.
"Thou speakest of Masaarah, my Kenkenes," the crown prince commented
after the salutation, "and it suggests an inquiry I would make of thee.
Dost thou go on as sculptor, or wilt thou follow thy father into the
art of building?"
"Since the Pharaoh chose for my father, he shall choose for me also."
"Nay, the Pharaoh did not choose," Rameses objected dryly. "It was I."
"Of a truth? 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. "When thou
art Pharaoh, thou canst retaliate upon thine own heir, in the same
fashion."
"Thou givest him tardy comfort, O Son of Mentu," Siptah commented with
an unpleasant laugh. "He will lose all recollection of the grudge,
waiting so long."
Rameses turned his heavy eyes toward the speaker, but Kenkenes halted
any remark the prince might have made.
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