"Would that the work were as probable as thou art hopeful," the young man said with a sigh.
"Out upon thee, idler!" was the warm reply. "Art thou come to vex me with thy doubts and scout thy sovereign's pious intentions?" The young man smiled.
"Hath the sun shone on architecture or sculpture since Meneptah succeeded to the throne?" he asked.
Mentu's eyes brightened wrathfully but the young man laid a soothing palm over the hand that gripped the reed.
"I do not mock thee, father. Rather am I full of sympathy for thee.
Thou mindest me of a war-horse, stabled, with his battle-love
unsatisfied, hearing in every whimper of the wind a trumpet call. Nay,
I would to Osiris that the Pharaoh's intents were permanent."
Somewhat mollified, Mentu put away the detaining hand and went on with his work. Presently the young man spoke again.
"I came to speak further of the signet," he said.
"Aye, but what signet, Kenkenes?"
"The signet of the Incomparable Pharaoh."
"What! after three years?"