"If the gray-beard sorcerer did meet me in open field, protected only with bull-hide and armed with a spear, I would fight him till he said 'enough'; but who wants to go against an incantation that would mow down an army at the muttering? Not I; yea, Rameses, I am a craven in battle with a sorcerer."
"If he means to blast us, wherefore hath he not spoken the cabalistic word ere this?" the prince demanded.
"He had no personal provocation until late," the captain replied.
"Hath the taskmaster set him to making brick?" the prince laughed.
"Nay; but the priesthood plotted against his head, and he is angry."
Rameses raised himself and looked fixedly at the soldier. Again Menes laughed.
"Spare me, my Prince! It is no longer a state secret. It is out and over all Egypt. Why it came not to thine ears I know not. Perchance every one is afraid to gossip to thee save mine unabashed self."
"Waster of the air!" Rameses exclaimed. "What meanest thou?"
"It seems that the older priests have a hieratic grudge against the Israelite, and when he returned into Egypt they set themselves, with much bustle, importance and method to silence him. Hither and thither they sent for advice, permission and aid, till all the wheels of the hierarchy were in motion, and the air quivered with portent and intent. Vain ado! Superfluous preparation! The very letter which gave them explicit and formal permission to begin to get ready to commence to put away the Hebrew, fell—by the mischievous Hathors!—fell into the hands of the victim himself!"
Rameses fell back into his chair, his lips twitching once or twice, a manifestation of his genuine amusement.