Apiru. He sits on their council. He is an important man.”
Thut glowered at the scribe. “He is of no importance. He is only a slave. As we are not barbarians, though, I will hear his request.”
“Horus grants you to speak,” the scribe said.
The leader began speaking. Rather than the rough speech of a slave, however, court Egyptian haltingly emerged. His words were uncertain and his phraseology slightly antiquated, as if he had not spoken high Egyptian in many Inundations, but no translation was necessary. As the man searched for words, it became embarrassing to see his struggle. “My Lord of the two lands, upon whom your god Amun-Ra shines, my people worship Elohim. We beg your exalted favor to take a leave of three days and worship him in the desert.”
Although the words were appropriately humble, the expression in his dark eyes was not This man's request was a challenge, flung at Thut's feet.
Horus-in-the-Nest was affronted. Pushing aside his flustered scribe, he rose and walked down the steps, his irritation growing the closer he drew to the man. “Old man, though you may have the speech of a courtier, you are nothing but a slave! Your pleas to meet with your desert god have fallen on unwilling ears. Three days! Also one day to travel there and another to travel back? That is almost half a week! You people have multiplied like vermin, and I have no doubt that if you took your hundreds and thousands of tribe members into the desert, you would not return! Are not the gods of Egypt enough for you?” Thut asked in disgust. “Or perhaps they are too noble, too gracious, and too civilized for you, living in these marshy lands, with sheep and goats for family? If you cannot worship your god here, then perhaps he is not worm worshiping at all?”
A low rumbling passed through the audience, and the supplicants flushed, except for the leader, who stood straight backed and unflustered.
“Our God commands you to let us go,” he said.
Thut, on his way back to his stool, turned and stared. Did these Apiru not know they were supposed to wait for his dismissal or continuance? “Commands me?” Thut could not believe his ears. He was the prince regent; Horus-in-the-Nest; only Hatshepsut, living forever! reigned higher. He repeated, “Commands me?” The arrogant words of the old slave finally penetrated.
“Commands me?
No one commands me.
No one!
” His face purpled with rage. “I do not know your god, and I will not let you go!”
The leader persisted, undaunted. “The God of the Israelites has met with us. Let us make this journey or he may strike with plagues or the sword.”
Thut advanced on the leader, halting close enough that his infuriated whisper could be heard. “What is your name; slave? You dare to threaten me with your puny god? Get you and your people back to work.” With a gesture he dismissed them and climbed up to the dais to his stool.
While the Apiru were still within hearing he called out, “Scribe, send this message to all of my overseers and architects, effective upon receipt. Write, ‘Apparently the tribes have too much time on their hands if they can be planning festivals and sacrifices. From this time on, the people who have,’”—he consulted the papyrus scrap his chamberlain handed him— “‘Aharon and Ramoses for leaders from among the Apiru must collect straw on their own to make the bricks required of the Great House. The production quotas will remain the same.’”
Under his breath he muttered, “Lazy, insolent wretches. That is why they want to go into the desert. Give a foreigner enough to do and he won't listen to lies or dream ridiculous dreams.”
Thut had the satisfaction of seeing the assistant's shoulders slump in defeat. But the leader stood tall, his brown hand gripping his twisted and knobby staff. Teach them to cross the son of Thutmosis! he thought. He sat down and called for beer. It was turning out to be a pleasant day after all.
WASET
A S SHE
Thut glowered at the scribe. “He is of no importance. He is only a slave. As we are not barbarians, though, I will hear his request.”
“Horus grants you to speak,” the scribe said.
The leader began speaking. Rather than the rough speech of a slave, however, court Egyptian haltingly emerged. His words were uncertain and his phraseology slightly antiquated, as if he had not spoken high Egyptian in many Inundations, but no translation was necessary. As the man searched for words, it became embarrassing to see his struggle. “My Lord of the two lands, upon whom your god Amun-Ra shines, my people worship Elohim. We beg your exalted favor to take a leave of three days and worship him in the desert.”
Although the words were appropriately humble, the expression in his dark eyes was not This man's request was a challenge, flung at Thut's feet.
Horus-in-the-Nest was affronted. Pushing aside his flustered scribe, he rose and walked down the steps, his irritation growing the closer he drew to the man. “Old man, though you may have the speech of a courtier, you are nothing but a slave! Your pleas to meet with your desert god have fallen on unwilling ears. Three days! Also one day to travel there and another to travel back? That is almost half a week! You people have multiplied like vermin, and I have no doubt that if you took your hundreds and thousands of tribe members into the desert, you would not return! Are not the gods of Egypt enough for you?” Thut asked in disgust. “Or perhaps they are too noble, too gracious, and too civilized for you, living in these marshy lands, with sheep and goats for family? If you cannot worship your god here, then perhaps he is not worm worshiping at all?”
A low rumbling passed through the audience, and the supplicants flushed, except for the leader, who stood straight backed and unflustered.
“Our God commands you to let us go,” he said.
Thut, on his way back to his stool, turned and stared. Did these Apiru not know they were supposed to wait for his dismissal or continuance? “Commands me?” Thut could not believe his ears. He was the prince regent; Horus-in-the-Nest; only Hatshepsut, living forever! reigned higher. He repeated, “Commands me?” The arrogant words of the old slave finally penetrated.
“Commands me?
No one commands me.
No one!
” His face purpled with rage. “I do not know your god, and I will not let you go!”
The leader persisted, undaunted. “The God of the Israelites has met with us. Let us make this journey or he may strike with plagues or the sword.”
Thut advanced on the leader, halting close enough that his infuriated whisper could be heard. “What is your name; slave? You dare to threaten me with your puny god? Get you and your people back to work.” With a gesture he dismissed them and climbed up to the dais to his stool.
While the Apiru were still within hearing he called out, “Scribe, send this message to all of my overseers and architects, effective upon receipt. Write, ‘Apparently the tribes have too much time on their hands if they can be planning festivals and sacrifices. From this time on, the people who have,’”—he consulted the papyrus scrap his chamberlain handed him— “‘Aharon and Ramoses for leaders from among the Apiru must collect straw on their own to make the bricks required of the Great House. The production quotas will remain the same.’”
Under his breath he muttered, “Lazy, insolent wretches. That is why they want to go into the desert. Give a foreigner enough to do and he won't listen to lies or dream ridiculous dreams.”
Thut had the satisfaction of seeing the assistant's shoulders slump in defeat. But the leader stood tall, his brown hand gripping his twisted and knobby staff. Teach them to cross the son of Thutmosis! he thought. He sat down and called for beer. It was turning out to be a pleasant day after all.
WASET
A S SHE
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