When Kenkenes made an end the murket brought his clenched hand down on
the table with a force that made the lamp wink and the implements
rattle in their boxes above him.
"Curse that smooth villain Har-hat!" he cried in a tempest of wrath.
"A murrain upon his greedy, crafty lust! The gods blast him in his
knavery! Now is my precious amulet in his hands. Would it were
white-hot and clung to him like a leech!"
Kenkenes said nothing. The murket's wrath was more comforting to him
than tender words could have been.
"Who hath the ear of Meneptah?" the murket continued with increasing
vehemence. "Har-hat! And behold the miseries of Egypt! Shall we put
any great sin past the knave who sinneth monstrously, or divine his
methods who is a master of cunning? The land is entangled in
difficulty! Give me but a raveling fiber to pull, and, by the gods, I
know that we shall find Har-hat at the other end of it! He is
destroying Egypt for his ambition's sake! And that a son of mine--me!
the right hand of the Incomparable Pharaoh--should furnish meat for his
rending!" His voice failed him and he shook his clenched hands high
above his head in an abandon of fury.
"Did I not tell thee?" he burst forth again, pointing a finger at his
son.
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