The Hippopotamus Marsh Read Online Free PDF

being herded? Do you no longer care that your divinity is shrouded, that it does not shine forth triumphant over the whole of Egypt?
    The High Priest finished the official prayers and there was a pause. Seqenenra closed his eyes and inhaled the sweet, pungent smoke hanging thickly in the motionless air. It was time for the Admonitions, when the priest reminded the god of his duties to his city and nome, of the promises not yet kept and perhaps forgotten, and often the words were for the Prince himself, couched in warnings to the god. This morning Amunmose spoke of fertility for the soil, protection from diseases, and the need for better offerings to maintain the temple and its staff. Seqenenra smiled.He would have to remind his friend that need must wait upon circumstance.
    Then the High Priest chanted, “Take up your cause, Mighty Amun, against the false gods of the Setiu in Egypt. Muzzle the dogs of Sutekh, blind the dancers of Anath, strike dumb the singers of Baal …”
    Seqenenra started. His heart began to pound. On impulse he knelt, and laying his cheek against Amun’s gleaming shins he began to laugh. The High Priest paused. Seqenenra stood, still laughing, and motioned for the man to continue. Of course! he thought, trying to stifle his mirth. My thanks, Great Cackler. Muzzle the dogs of Sutekh. That will do. That will do very well …
    Later when the doors had closed behind them, and the acolyte had tied Seqenenra’s sandals back onto his feet, and he and Amunmose were strolling across the outer court, Amunmose said, “The offerings are no laughing matter, Lord. Certainly the temple is small and my staff not overly large and I do understand that gold is doled out to us in return for levies of labourers and other favours not specified in our agreement with the One, but to laugh at the needs of the god is almost blasphemy.”
    Seqenenra took his shoulder and swung him to a halt. They stood squinting at each other in the blinding sunlight. The court was busier now. We’eb priests came and went through the tall pylons, receiving the offerings of the common people together with their requests. A few nobles were performing the purifying ritual before being allowed into the inner court, ignored by the temple women who talked or prayed or sat in the shade of the wall and gossiped. Seqenenra’s escort could be glimpsedsquatting by the litter, their spears beside them in the sand, playing knucklebones.
    “Do not reprove me, my friend,” he begged. “Do I not maintain the house of my father? Do I not see that the shrine of Montu is pleasing in his eyes? Is the habitation of Mut not lovingly repaired out of my own treasury? What other governor in this sick and miserable land cares for the sacred places as I do?” He had not meant to say all those things. He had wanted to remind the High Priest that he, Seqenenra, had appointed him and therefore expected a degree of indulgence, but a cold pain had gripped him with his first words and anger had surged from his chest onto his tongue with an appalling familiarity. Amunmose had gone white. He dropped his eyes and began to murmur an apology. Seqenenra cursed himself inwardly. “Forgive me,” he begged. “I am not angry with you. I laughed in the sanctuary because my father had answered a prayer, that is all.” Amunmose touched his left hand to the leopard skin draped over his right shoulder. It was the obeisance of a subject to a King.
    “Nevertheless you are right, Prince,” he said. “I was presumptuous.”
    “You have worries also, I know,” Seqenenra sighed. “I have received another senseless directive from the One. I cannot divine what direction these odd missives are taking. Perhaps I should consult Amun’s oracle.”
    “Perhaps.” Amunmose hesitated. “Prince, may I give you some advice?” Seqenenra looked at him blankly.
    “Of course.”
    “Then, be careful whose ears are open around you when you speak of the One and his divine commands.