‘In other words,’ concluded the king, ‘we can’t attack using our footsoldiers, and we can’t lay siege to the fortress. What other option is there?’
‘Before taking a decision,’ said Ahhotep, ‘we must send scouts to observe Per-Hathor.’
⁋I shall take ten men and do it myself,’ said Kamose.
‘No, you must remain here to lead our troops. I shall undertake this mission.’
‘Mother, it’s much too dangerous.’
The Afghan and I are used to this kind of expedition,’ said Moustache. ‘If Her Majesty will agree to have us at her side, she will be safe.’
Then we shall set off at once,’ decided Ahhotep.
‘I must admit, it’s very strongly built and damnably well positioned,’ said Moustache grudgingly.
Lying flat in the long grass, the queen and her two companions gazed at Per-Hathor. Thick walls, square towers, ramparts, a vast gateway, protective ditches: the monstrous fort looked invincible.
‘You’re always an optimist,’ said Moustache to the Afghan. ‘What would you do?’
This time, I don’t feel optimistic.’
The morale of the two rebels had reached a low ebb, but Ahhotep did not despair. She told them, ‘Watch closely. There must be a weak point somewhere.’
Ahhotep had first seen Per-Hathor when she and Seqen had stumbled on it; they had almost been caught by soldiers foraging for food. This time, too, Hyksos soldiers emerged from the fortress to patrol the area, and Ahhotep would again have been caught unawares if the Afghan and Moustache, who were experienced fighters, had not warned her to take cover. The patrol passed very close to the trio, but did not see them.
‘Killing them would serve no purpose,’ said the Afghan.
‘We could get inside when they open the great gate a little way,’ suggested Moustache.
‘A few of our men might get beyond the outer wall,’ replied the queen, ‘but they would be massacred.’
A boat appeared, sailing up from the south. As soon as it docked, Hyksos soldiers surrounded the Egyptian slaves who began to unload it, struggling under their heavy loads. One slave stumbled on the gangplank and dropped the jar he was carrying. It shattered on the quayside, and a great lake of beer spilt out.
A soldier plunged his spear into the neck of the clumsy slave, who made no attempt to defend himself or run away. The murderer kicked the man’s corpse into the Nile.
Ahhotep tried to leap forward, but the Afghan’s strong arms held her where she was.
‘With all due respect, Majesty, don’t try to do anything. Moustache and I have seen many things like that. If we’d acted in anger, we’d be dead.’
The unloading proceeded without further incident, then the boat left again for the south.
‘Couldn’t we set the fortress on fire?’ suggested Moustache.
‘It would take a very, very long time for our soldiers to lay enough wood at the foot of the walls,’ replied Ahhotep, ‘and they’d be shot down by the Hyksos archers. And I’m not certain that fire would do much damage to such strong walls.’
‘Per-Hathor really is impregnable,’ muttered the Afghan angrily.
I’ve never seen you like this before,’ commented Moustache.
‘Nothing has ever seemed impossible before. But this time …’
Night was falling, and the moon-good was beginning to shine with all his brilliance.
‘He will give us the solution,’ promised the queen. ‘We must go on watching.’
Nothing of note happened the following day, just three patrols at the same times as before. The day after that, the supply boat arrived with an even larger cargo and even larger jars.
One of the slaves, a worn-out old man, buckled under the weight and put one knee to the ground. Unable to go on, he laid down his burden and looked straight into the eyes of the Hyksos soldier who slit his throat with his dagger. A youth managed to carry the jar to the fortress.
Watched by the emperor’s soldiers, the gate was opened just long enough to allow food and drink to enter the fortress. Then the boat left again, and it was time for the last patrol before dusk.
Night and day, archers were stationed on the tops of the watchtowers. There were so many torches burning that they lit up the whole area around the fortifications, ensuring that there could be no surprise attacks by night.
At dawn, the trio left their hiding-place. Neither Moustache nor the Afghan had come up with any way, not even a risky one, to take Per-Hathor, so they weren’t surprised when the queen ordered, ‘We must return to the flagship.’
22
Jannas, who was of Asiatic origin, always wore a pleated headdress shaped like a mushroom, closely fitted to his pointed head. His appearance was distinctly misleading. Of average height and almost sickly-looking, slow of speech and gesture, he gave the impression of an honest fellow in whom one might readily confide.
In reality, he was a ruthless warlord who, throughout his brilliant career, had carried out the emperor’s orders to the letter and without question. Like Apophis, he was convinced that military might was the only key to power and that all those who opposed Hyksos domination must be exterminated.
Wiping out the pirates hiding in the Mycenaean islands had taken him several years, but Jannas never yielded to impatience. All that mattered was ultimate success. And that was precisely what was annoying him: the leader of the pirates could only be from Minoa, and the emperor - for reasons which eluded Jannas - was refusing to destroy it. Tomorrow, thought Jannas, the Minoans would arm other pirates, and they would immediately start attacking Hyksos trading-ships again.
However, there was one last opportunity to inflict on the Great Island punishment from which it would not recover, if it could be shown to be guilty of harbouring criminals. To this end, Jannas’s ships had driven the last active pirate boat back towards Minoa, but had not intercepted it. They saw it enter a narrow creek, where the crew disembarked. Jannas’s duty was therefore clear.
The Hyksos war-fleet was drawn up ready for a massive assault. This time, Minoa would not escape. Its towns and villages would be burnt, the countryside laid waste, and its wealth would revert to the emperor.
‘An envoy is asking to speak with you, sir,’ a junior officer told him. ‘He has come by small boat, and he’s alone and unarmed.’
The Minoan was around fifty years old, and his hair and beard were meticulously groomed. His face bore the marks of anxiety.
Jannas received him on deck, facing the Great Island.
‘May I remind you, Commander,’ said the envoy, ‘that the Minoans are the emperor’s faithful subjects?’
‘Subjects who shelter and support our enemies! Do you take me for a fool?’
‘If you are referring to those pirates, who thought they could hide among us, you are wrong. We have arrested and executed them. Their corpses are at your disposal.’
Jannas sneered. ‘I don’t believe a word of it. You’ve simply killed a few peasants to deceive me, while the real culprits dine at your king’s table. Without your help, they’d never have eluded me for so long.’
‘Commander, I swear to you that you are quite wrong. Minoa is a province of the Hyksos Empire, and I go each year to Avaris to present the emperor with ever-greater tributes. Apophis is our beloved sovereign, whose authority no Minoan would dream of disputing.’
‘What fine, diplomatic words - you lie more fluently than a sand-traveller.’
‘Commander, I cannot allow you to—’
‘I allow myself!’ cut in Jannas furiously. ‘I have hunted the pirates down, one by one. Before killing them I tortured them, and they talked. All of them said the same thing: they were attacking our ships on behalf of Minoa, to recover the goods given to the emperor. I took many, many statements, and they leave absolutely no doubt of the Great Island’s guilt.’
‘They lied to try to save their lives - that’s obvious! Why should my country have acted so irresponsibly?’
‘I’ve just ex
plained that to you, Envoy. Are you deaf?’ ‘The emperor must hear me. Let me sail for Avaris.’ ‘That’s out of the question. Minoa is a refuge for pirates and I must destroy it.’
‘Do not do that, I beg of you! We will double our tributes.’
‘It’s too late, Envoy. For once, your tricks are useless. Go back to your island and tell your countrymen to prepare to defend themselves. I don’t like winning without meeting at least a little resistance.’
‘Is there no argument which could change your mind?’
‘Not one.’
Jannas sat in his cabin, brooding. The destruction of Minoa would mark the summit of his career, proving to Apophis that the Hyksos Empire must continue to extend its borders as ruthlessly as ever. During the invasion of Egypt, it was strength and strength alone that had overcome. There had been no question of diplomacy, or concessions to the vanquished.
In believing that they could strike at the empire by using pirates and without suffering the consequences of their crime, the Minoans had made a fatal mistake. Once their army was wiped out, the Great Island would become the starting-point for other conquests.
Conquest: Jannas’s life had no other meaning. Winning demanded sacrifices, courage and a sense of strategy. Failure would be worse than death.
From time to time, he wondered about the emperor’s attitude. Was Apophis becoming too cautious as he grew older? True, the army was still everywhere in Avaris, but within the palace luxurious living seemed to hold sway. Egypt was a land of magical charms, where one might easily lose the taste for fighting. In Apophis’s place, Jannas would have taken up residence in a much less comfortable country, like Syria, so as never to forget that any land not forcibly integrated into the empire remained a potential enemy.
But Jannas reproached himself for criticisms like these. Apophis saw further than he did, and certainly had good reasons for acting as he did. The High Treasurer, however, was definitely a bad influence on the emperor. Jannas loathed Khamudi, who was utterly corrupt, interested in nothing but his own personal gain. But in this matter, too, how could he oppose the will of the emperor, who had made Khamudi his right-hand man?
Jannas stood at the emperor’s other hand, and would not allow him to be manipulated by the High Treasurer. Once back in Avaris, he decided, he must take measures to restrict Khamudi’s influence, because Khamudi was extremely prompt in killing anyone he thought might become a rival.
The morning was fine, the sea calm. Ideal weather for attacking the Great Island, which was experiencing its last moments of freedom before paying the price for its hypocrisy.
Jannas’s second-in-command, who was in charge of coordinating the attack troops, knocked on the cabin door.
‘Commander, all the officers are in their fighting positions.’
‘Any problems?’
‘No, sir. The weapons have been checked, the boats arranged according to your orders.’
Jannas went on deck and looked towards the coast, to which the Hyksos fleet was very close.
‘Not one Minoan soldier,’ he noted. ‘Anyone would think they were leaving the field wide open for us.’
‘Might it not be a trap, sir?’ asked his second-in-command.
‘Of course it might, and for that very reason we’re going to use our catapults to set fire to the vegetation. A lot of Minoans will be burnt to a crisp, and the others will run away. Any who try to resist will be killed by our archers. Next, we shall sweep the entire island, with one single instruction: no survivors.’
The men in charge of the catapults were waiting for his signal.
But at that moment something unexpected happened: a fast, light Hyksos boat was spotted, heading towards the flagship.
Curious, Jannas told his men to wait. What did this intruder want?
An officer climbed aboard and handed Jannas a large limestone scarab. ‘Commander,’ he said, ‘new orders from the emperor.’
Jannas read the words engraved on the scarab. Because of a serious uprising in Anatolia, Apophis ordered him to ignore the last few pirates, leave the islands immediately, and sail east at full speed to put down the rebellion.
‘I did not think I would find you so easily,’ said the officer. ‘It’s lucky you’re so close to Minoa.’
Jannas smiled enigmatically. ‘Lucky? I never rely on luck.’
Before giving the signal to leave, he directed a last, furious glare at the Great Island. Still, he thought, there was nothing to lose by waiting.
23
The commander of Per-Hathor was a sixty year-old Canaanite who owed everything to the emperor. In his youth, he had burnt many villages in Palestine and the Delta, raped a fine tally of women and slaughtered plenty of old men. Particularly pleased with his services, Apophis had crowned the end of his career by giving him command of this magnificent fortress, the gateway to the south of Egypt.
He was not worried about the Theban rebels. The fact that they had succeeded in massing troops at Qis had intoxicated them, but that derisory achievement would lead nowhere. Unable to make progress to either the north or the south, they would stay trapped in their little enclave, which the emperor could destroy whenever he chose.
The only danger was Nubia. But the chief who had united the tribes to form the kingdom of Kerma was a reasonable man. He knew very well that being the unconditional ally of the Hyksos was much better than defying them.
So all that remained was routine. To prevent the garrison becoming complacent, the commander imposed an iron discipline, with rigorous standards in all military and domestic activities. Per-Hathor was ready at any time to contain an attack, which would inevitably fail, anyway. And if a Theban boat appeared, a rain of fire-arrows would send it to the bottom.
The only delicate operations were the morning and afternoon patrols, which might encounter a raiding-party. But Queen Ahhotep had never dared send one, knowing only too well that it had no chance of success. Hyksos archers atop the towers kept permanent watch on the surrounding area, and would kill anyone who tried to get near the walls.
Moreover, in the event of an attack Per-Hathor would signal to a watchtower a day’s march to the south, which would in turn pass the signal on. The troops at Elephantine would soon be mobilized and would hurry down the Nile to Per-Hathor. They might even join forces with the Nubian soldiers stationed upstream of the First Cataract. Massacring a band of Egyptian rebels would be a welcome distraction.
‘Commander, the supply-boat’s coming,’ an officer informed him.
It would be bringing fresh water, meat, dried fish, vegetables, fruit, good-quality beer: the garrison lacked for nothing.
‘Is it the usual one?’
‘Yes, sir.’
From his post high on the ramparts, the commander watched big two-handled, egg-shaped jars of Canaanite design being unloaded.
‘It is the day when honey, olive oil and wine are delivered,’ said the officer greedily. ‘I also ordered some boxes of fabric to replace clothes and bedsheets. If the supply-officer has done his work properly, it will all be here.’
The commander never tired of seeing the Egyptians humiliated. His sturdy soldiers in their black helmets never missed an opportunity to beat them and make them well aware of their inferiority. Any slave who showed the slightest sign of resistance was executed on the spot.
The gate of the fortress opened to allow the heavily laden slaves to enter. Forced to hurry, most of them were on the point of collapse. The moment they had deposited their burdens in the storehouses, they had to run back to the gate, heads bowed, to get out of the fortress as quickly as possible.
Twenty archers stood in position on the ramparts and aimed at the slaves. Others aimed at the area immediately around the main entrance, in case madmen thought they could take advantage of the delivery to enter the great courtyard.
As usual, the security instructions were observed to the letter.
‘I sense that we shall soon receive a message from the emperor,’ prophesied the co
mmander. ‘When the front at Qis has been strengthened, he will order us to attack Thebes, together with the troops from Elephantine.’
The crew were raising the sail on the cargo-boat, which was to leave again for the south.
‘Shall we sample the wine this evening?’ suggested the officer.
‘Certainly not. The men must have an early night, because tomorrow they have cleaning duties at dawn and an inspection at noon. If I find the fortress spotlessly clean, we might organize a small celebration.’
Although disappointed, the officer resolved to take this blow patiently. With the aid of a sentry, he would gladly have uncorked a jar for his personal use. But if the commander found out, he would receive thirty days in prison and a transfer to somewhere much less agreeable. So at dinner he would be content with ordinary rations.
Per-Hathor was asleep. Only a few sentries were on lookout, and some of them were having difficulty keeping their eyes open. It was just one more peaceful night in this stronghold, where nothing could harm them.
The silence of the storehouse was almost imperceptibly broken by a small, dry sound: the side of a jar being broken. Slowly, Moustache emerged from his uncomfortable mode of transport. Beside him, the Afghan followed suit. And so did the fifteen other members of the raiding-party.
The first part of Queen Ahhotep’s daring plan had succeeded: to seize the supply-boat, replace the Hyksos soldiers with Thebans, persuade the slaves to act out the charade before they were freed, and find volunteers who were mad enough to hide in the largest jars. If the Hyksos had checked the contents before storing them, the raiders would not have stood a chance. But habit and the soldiers’ belief in their security had prevailed.
The Afghan and Moustache looked at each other, surprised still to be alive. Their comrades joined them, daggers in hand.
Moustache told them, The Afghan and I are going to scout around. As soon as we’ve located the sentries, we’ll return for you, and then we’ll kill them all. While one of us opens the great gate, the others are to kill as many Hyksos as possible in their beds. We must move fast and in absolute silence.’
War of the Crowns Page 10
