Even his pet ape did not
return. Asar-Mut questioned Mentu closely concerning the fidelity of
Kenkenes to the faith and the ritual.
"I ask after his soul," he explained. But he gained no evidence from
Mentu.
On the fourteenth day after the disappearance of the young sculptor,
Sepet, the boatman that had hired his bari to Kenkenes, found the boat
among the wharf piling. It was overturned, its bottom ripped out, one
side crushed as if a river-horse had played with it. In the small
compartment at the tiller were provisions for a light lunch; a wallet,
empty; a rope and a plummet of bronze used to moor a boat in midstream
while the sportsman fished; the light woolen mantle worn as often for
protection against the sun as against the cold, and other things to
prove that Kenkenes had met with disaster.
The fate of the young man seemed to be explained. The great house of
Mentu was darkened; the servants went unkempt and the artist wore a
blue scarf knotted about his hips. The high priest dismissed the
subject of the sacrilege from his mind, now that his nephew was dead.
The people of Memphis who knew Kenkenes mourned with Mentu; the
festivities were dull without him, and there were some, like Io and the
Lady Senci, who went into retirement and were not to be comforted.
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