"O counselors of the pharaoh!" burst out the queen. "Your lord acts wisely, appearing as a defender of the gods, and ye, instead of making him milder, urge him to violence."
The blood rushed to Tutmosis' head. Fortunately an adjutant called him from the chamber with information that at the gate was an old man who wished to speak with his holiness.
"Today each man is struggling to get at the pharaoh, as he might at the keeper of a dramshop," muttered the adjutant.
Tutmosis thought that in the time of Ramses XII no one would have dared to speak of the ruler in that way. But he feigned not to hear.
The old man whom the watch had detained was Prince Hiram. He wore a soldier's mantle covered with dust; he was irritated and wearied.
Tutmosis commanded to admit him, and when both were in the garden, he said to him,
"I judge that Thou wilt bathe, worthiness, and change thy dress before
I obtain an audience with his holiness?"
Hiram raised his iron-gray brows, and his bloodshot eyes became bloodier.
"From what I have seen," said he firmly, "I may even not ask for an audience."
"Hast Thou the letters of the high priest to Assyria?"