The 22 Letters by Richard; Clive; Kennedy King Page A

Beth, but her aunt told her not to be frivolous.
    â€œBut why should you be worried about a thing like that, Father?” Beth persisted. “You’re quite rich, aren’t you? And you’re clever at carving and things. You could make something nice for him, I’m sure.”
    â€œI think the King knows what I’m worth to him. It’s not that.” Resh brooded in silence for a while, then burst out, “But how am I going to look as a family man, with no sons at my side? There’ll be my own foreman with seven sons—and me, what have I got to show?”
    â€œYou have three fine sons, dear,” said Aunt soothingly.
    â€œBut where are they?” cried Resh, banging the table with his fist. “What can I say to the King? ‘One’s gone off hunting in the desert, one’s flirting with the women of Knossos, and another’s simple in the head and got himself lost in the woods’?”
    â€œOh, Father, that isn’t fair,” said Beth, and flushed. “I’m sure Zayin and Nun and Aleph would come back if they knew you wanted them.” But her father went on muttering: why couldn’t he have a family that stayed at home and supported him. Beth could see that he was really worried.
    â€œOh, Father,” she sighed, “I wish I was some use instead.”
    At that her father looked hard at her, then hid his face in his hands and said in a muffled voice he hoped it would not come to that. It was not in fact a very happy meal.
    The summer days passed in Gebal and still there was no news of the sons of Resh. The search party had returned after combing the mountains and forests and finding nothing. The days and nights became hotter and stickier and more breathless. Whenever she could, Beth got up on to the city wall to catch what air there was. She envied the people who lived outside the walls, though most of them were poor, or foreign. Her father said that not long ago even good Giblite families could live outside the walls and feel safe, but these were troubled times and it was better to be inside. From the walls, Beth could see the ragged boys splashing in the harbor. How cool it must be for them, she thought. When she had been small, she had run about with the children who lived near the port. She was not allowed to do that any more—whether it was because her father was richer and more important or because she was older and more of a woman, she wasn’t sure. But what was there for her to do?
    One morning of oppressive heat she found herself putting on her old shabby dress again and tying her hair with a cloth. She had not really thought what she was going to do, and she had not even the excuse for going to the palace that she had had the last time. But she had got to the point when she had to get out of the house on her own again. She told the slave girl that she was going to carry the master’s dinner to the palace, and the girl was quite happy not to have to make the journey in the heat.
    The guards seemed more vigilant than last time when she approached the palace yard. A soldier in armor lowered his spear and pointed it at her, and asked what her business was in a stern voice. She did as she had done before, standing with lowered eyes and muttering: “Dinner for Resh, the overseer.”
    But the sentinel merely replied, “No one allowed in,” and stood there. Beth flushed with anger at such obstructiveness.
    â€œIs my fa—is my master to go without his food?” she burst out.
    The soldier merely looked at her curiously, said it was not his business and she had better move along.
    Beth turned away and stood in the shade on the other side of the open space by the palace, holding the dinner bowl and not knowing what to do. She felt like crying with frustration. Then she saw another soldier marching up to the one she had just spoken to. The guard was changing. She heard the first say to the second something like