Har-hat had
estranged most of the ministers, and in his strait Meneptah felt
vaguely and for the first time that he needed the acquiescence of
others in addition to the fan-bearer's ready concord.
One early morning, in a corridor leading from the entrance, he met
Hotep. A sudden impulse urged him to consult his scribe.
"Where hast thou been?" he asked, noticing Hotep's street dress.
"To the temple, O Son of Ptah."
"What hast thou to ask of the gods that thy king can not give thee?"
Hotep hesitated, and the color rushed into his cheeks. The Hathors
tortured him with an opportunity he dared not seize. How could he ask
for Masanath?
"I went to pray for that which all Egyptians crave at this hour--the
succor of Egypt," he said, instead.
Meneptah signed his scribe to follow him to a seat near by.
"Why may I not require of thee the services of a higher minister?" he
began, after he had seated himself. "Never hast thou failed me, and I
can not say so much of the great nobles above thee. Serve me well in
this, Hotep, and thou mayest take the place of some one of these."
"Let me but serve thee," the scribe returned placidly; "that is reward
in itself."
"Thou knowest," the king began, plunging into the heart of the
question, "that I yielded to these ravening wolves, Mesu and Aaron.
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