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always been fond of each other. Teti was as affable and open as Seqenenra was lordly and aloof, and though Si-Amun loved his father and was fully conscious of the tincture of royalty in his blood, there were times when he would have preferred to be a son of Teti. Such thoughts made him feel ashamed but did not detract from his pleasure. He had gone with Teti and Seqenenra to pay the obligatory call on the governor of Khemennu and its nomes. Seqenenra had been effusively good-mannered, sampling every sweetmeat at the welcome meal, enquiring after the health of the governor’s family and raising his goblet with words of praise to the King on his lips, but Si-Amun knew that under the exquisite conventions his father was hating himself for his dishonesty.
    On this day he and Teti had returned to the governor’s estate and spent a delightful morning inspecting the man’s hunting dogs, sampling a rare vintage of palm wine, and listening to the latest gossip that came out of Het-Uart. He had taken his leave with regret. He and Teti had then got onto their litters and had been carried to a rocky outcrop in the desert where there were some ancient tombs, now open and pillaged. Si-Amun had his countrymen’s avid interest in the monuments of the past. He exclaimed over the wall paintings and felt the sadness of the desecrated place. After a prayer for the kas of those who had once lain there and a petition to Anubis to remember them, he and Teti had returned to the cultivated fringe of greenness where Teti’sservants laid down mats, put up canopies, and spread bread, beer and fruit for their lunch.
    “You are a very generous man, Teti,” Si-Amun complimented him as they sat cross-legged under the shade of a fig tree and gratefully drank their beer. “You do not come to Weset often enough for us to repay you for your hospitality.” Teti smiled across at him.
    “The gods and the King have been good to me,” he replied, “and besides, I love to have company, Si-Amun. My other relatives are not congenial people.”
    “Father was congenial enough last night!” Si-Amun laughed. “He does not often get drunk and have such a good time. I think it relaxes him to be here. He takes his responsibilities at home too seriously.” As soon as the words had left his mouth, he wondered if he had been disloyal. He glanced anxiously at Teti, but Teti had drained his cup and was smiling warmly across at him, eyes narrowed.
    “As a Prince of this realm your father has a certain dignity to maintain,” he answered. “Yet I do not think he drank out of relaxation and pleasure, Si-Amun. He has been troubled and withdrawn since he arrived. It is the scrolls from the One, isn’t it? I wish he would confide in me as an old friend, and let me help him.” Si-Amun hesitated, wishing he had not blurted out his observation so freely, but Teti continued to smile. He leaned forward and placed a soft, hot hand on Si-Amun’s. “You need not speak of it, if you do not wish to,” Teti said. “But know, Si-Amun, that I love you and your father and the rest of your family. There is blood shared between us, however distant the connection. Relatives should aid each other.” Si-Amun now felt disloyal to Teti. To dismiss the moment would seem rude,and it was true that he had a sudden urge to confide in this man. His father would listen to his doubts, indeed he knew them already, but his sympathetic ear did not bring agreement. Teti would be different. Teti would understand.
    “Yes, they should,” Si-Amun returned. Teti relinquished his hand. “It is nothing truly important, Teti,” Si-Amun went on. “But the scrolls seem so arbitrary in their demands, so senseless. Each time one arrives, Father becomes more tense and angry.” He looked up. Teti’s eyes were commiseratory and understanding. The man nodded.
    “And you are afraid that one day your father will grow tired of an unrewarded loyalty to the King and will take some reckless action that will