"And the other goes to the noble Mentu," Nechutes added in a meek voice.
"Sphinx!" Ta-meri cried, tapping him on the head. "You did not tell me that."
The surprised delight of Kenkenes was not so bewildering as to blind him to the reason why Nechutes had withheld this news from Ta-meri. The blunt Egyptian was not anxious to speed his rival's cause.
"Does my father know of this?" he asked.
"I doubt not. The same messenger that brought me news of mine own appointment departed for On when he learned that Mentu was there."
"Nay, but that will be wine in his veins," Kenkenes mused happily. "It will make him young again. His late inactivity hath chafed him sorely."
"You have come honestly by your labor-loving," Nechutes commented. "Hotep adds further that Mentu is the only one of the king's new ministers that is no longer a young man."
"It is Rameses who counsels him, I doubt not," the sculptor replied. "He hath great faith in the powers of youth. And behold what a cabinet he hath built up for his father. First," Kenkenes continued, enumerating on his fingers, "there is Nechutes—"
The new cup-bearer waved his hand, and Kenkenes went on.
"There is my father, the murket. He needs no further praise than the utterance of his name. There is Hotep, on whose lips Toth abideth. There is Seneferu, the faithful, whom the Rebu dreads. Next is Kephren, the mohar,[1] who would outshine his father, the right hand of the great Rameses, had he but nations to conquer. After him, Har-hat—"