by Overton, Max
"Then that proves it is all nonsense." Khu forced a laugh. "You are a beautiful princess of Kemet. You will marry your brother whom you love and live a long and wonderful life as queen, having many children before finally dying and joining your husband in his royal tomb."
"I love my brother, but I do not love him as I would a husband, Khu. Oh, I will marry him if he asks it of me, but if I have a choice..." Scarab shook her head. "I love another."
Khu sat in silence for several minutes before clearing his throat and uttering a single word in a strained voice. "Who?"
"Paramessu," Scarab said, a tremor in her voice. "I know I shall almost certainly never see him again, and if I do, never be allowed to be alone with him, but I love him."
"But he is an old man..." Khu broke off, before picking his words with care. "My lady Scarab, Paramessu is a fine soldier..."
"More than a soldier, he is almost a general. He commands a whole legion."
"But he...he is what, fifteen years older than you and surely married."
"Closer to twenty and he was married but his wife died, together with his son, in the plague many years ago."
"He is a soldier, my lady, and you must marry a prince or a king."
"That is with the gods, Khu. All I know is what my heart tells me. I love him, though it can never be." She stared at the pond and missed the tears in Khu's eyes.
He brushed them away without fuss and essayed a tentative smile. "We should be getting to the meeting, Scarab. Judging by the sun it is almost time." Khu got to his feet and brushed his gown absently, looking toward the palace where a woman in the short kilt of a servant hurried toward them. "I think we have company."
Scarab looked round, then rose, shading her eyes with one hand. "It is Tio. What is she doing out in the living area of the palace? If the Overseer of Kitchens catches her she will get a beating."
Tio the scullery maid hurried across the lawns to Scarab and threw herself on her knees, her bare bosom heaving with the exertion. "My lady," she cried. "Oh, my lady, there is great danger. You must flee at once."
"What are you talking about, woman?" Khu exclaimed roughly. "And what are you doing out here? You know you are required to stay in the kitchen area."
"Enough, Khu. Get up, Tio, there is no need for this. Tell me what the matter is."
"Oh, my poor lady, such terrible news and such danger." Tio started weeping. "You must flee at once to safety."
"Oh, get up, Tio." Scarab bent down and hauled the older woman upright. "Now what is this all about? Dry your tears and start from the beginning."
"Scarab," Khu interrupted. "We are starting to attract a bit of attention from those guards over by the portico. I suggest we move somewhere more private."
Scarab nodded. "Over here." She led the way across the gardens, out of sight of the guards and the gardeners, and into the shadow of the house of old Her-uben, one-time Head Gardener, but now retired, though still allowed to live in his house in the palace orchards. "We will not be seen here. Now, Tio, start from the beginning and tell me your news."
The maid nodded and backhanded away her tears. "Yes, my lady. Well, I is working in the kitchens like I always do...only today I was tending the fires as the boy 'oo usually does it is sick. I think he got a flux by drinking bad water 'cos Wia says 'e was throwing up all..."
"Tio," Scarab cut in. "The news. What is it?"
"Yes, lady." Tio bobbed respectfully and took a deep breath, her lips moving as she positioned herself further along in her story. "Well, Roma--'e's the man what brings the onions, 'e 'ad just come from the Tjaty's palace and 'e say the place there is in an uproar. A man of the Tjaty's just got back from Djeba where the king was."
"Just a minute, Tio," Khu asked. "Roma told you this?"
"Nah, the like of 'e won't talk to likes of me. I was tending the fires an' I 'eard 'im talking to Hay, the Overseer. 'E said...well, I don't likes to repeat it..." Tio glanced around and lowered her voice to a whisper. "'E said the king was dead."
Scarab gasped and Khu broke in hurriedly. "That is just a nasty rumor, Tio, put about by gossips with nothing better to do, and you should not be repeating such things. Don't you know my lady here is the king's sister?"
"Yes, sirs, I knows an' I is not wanting to bring such news, my lady, oh no, but that weren't all I heard."
"What did you hear, Tio?" Scarab asked quietly.
"Come on, Scarab, you don't believe her, do you?" Khu remonstrated. "I mean, if anything like that had happened it would be public knowledge. It would be all over the city."
Tio shivered, despite the warmth of the late afternoon sun. "I don't knows about that, sirs, only whats I heard."
"And what did you hear, Tio?" Scarab asked again, putting a hand on the maid's arm.
"Roma says 'e spoke with the Tjaty's man what jus' come back from Djeba, an 'e said the king had been took by a crocodile and the rest of his frien's was dead too."
"That shows this is all a pack of lies," Khu said, relief showing in his voice. "The king was hunting a lion nowhere near the river. And to claim five of his friends died too." He shook his head and laughed. "This Roma should be reported to the Medjay...and that friend of his in Ay's palace for starting such a story."
"Well, you coulds have Roma arrested, but not the others one. 'E was killed by the Tjaty's so'jers right after 'e talk to Roma...'e saw it an' it scared 'im plenty."
Scarab's fingers dug into Tio's arm. "Ay's soldiers killed this man of Ay's who had just returned from Djeba with news of the king's death? Is that what you are saying?"
"This tale just keeps getting more far-fetched."
"No Khu." Scarab's voice trembled. "That part tells me my Smenkhkare is dead." A single tear marred the surface of her cheek. "Ay has had my brother killed and the man who did it has been silenced."
"Killing a king is god-cursed. Not even Ay would do that."
"Ay may reason he did not do it, he merely caused it to happen."
Khu frowned, not wanting to believe. "And...and the crocodile?"
"The crocodile is a fabrication. I have no doubt Ay will use the story so he does not have to produce the...the body." Scarab sobbed and her tears streaked the kohl around her eyes.
"Lady," Tio said. "You has got to 'ide. The so'jers will be lookin' for you. I saw lots of Medjay go to the Council rooms an' they was armed."
"The Council will have called them, Scarab. When news of this breaks there will be panic, so we'll need the Medjay to keep the peace." Khu looked toward the palace and took a few steps in that direction. "We should join them immediately, Scarab." He looked at her tear and kohl-streaked face with sudden realization and returned to her side, putting an arm around her. "I'm so sorry, Scarab. We should get you to your ladies first. We can get the Medjay to guard you if you like, then..."
"Shut up, Khu. I do not need my ladies and we do not need to be joining the other Councilors." She dabbed at her face with the wide shoulder wings of her dress, succeeding more in marking the dress than in cleaning her face. She raised a hand as Khu opened his mouth again and he remained silent, though fidgeting with a need for action. "Give me a moment, Khu. I must think."
"No, my lady. You mustn't stay 'ere. You got to 'ide before the so'jers or the Medjay find you an' cart you off to prison or worse."
"If Ay is behind this," Scarab said slowly, "Then he must have a plan to take power. A real one, not like the last time when his daughter Nefertiti forced his hand. He could not hope to do it without the backing of the army, so we cannot trust the troops. Nor can we trust the Medjay. Usermontju is a friend of Ay. We cannot help the Council if we are in prison or dead, so we must remain free. But where to go?"
"We could go to my father's farm in Akhet-Re. Nobody would think to look for us there."
Scarab's lips twitched. "Not until they remembered Councilor Khu was once a farm lad from Akhet-Re. No, it will have to be somewhere safer than that."
Tio wrung her hands and looked around, casting scared gla
nces toward the palace. "You must 'urry, my lady. You has got to get away."
"Akhet-Aten then?" Khu said. "Appeal to your other brother. When he hears that Ay has...has had his co-regent killed, he will act. He would have to."
Scarab nodded. "Perhaps. Either there or north to find Horemheb."
"Horemheb? Oh, you mean General Paatenemheb. I thought you said you could not trust the army?"
"He has changed his name back again, Khu. He only took the Aten name to get gold for his army. Now he has remembered his allegiance to Heru. I think he would help us. He has no great love for Ay."
"But the army?"
"Horemheb is loyal. That is one of his virtues. And he is not the army of Waset. I am sure Ay has subverted the local garrison."
"My lady, please." Tio started tugging on Scarab's arm, dragging her toward the palace.
"She is right, Scarab. We can talk about where we mean to go, but first we must get you to safety." Khu broke Tio's grip on the dress. "Safety does not lie in the palace though."
"Course not sirs, but we has to get through the palace to gets out. I thinks I can smuggle yous through the kitchens."
"No, there is another way." Scarab chewed her lip, remembering. "Smenkhkare used to take me out to the city when we were children. Behind Her-uben's house there is the garden wall. It used to be in ruins." She walked around the corner to the narrow aisle between the mud brick house and the tall stone wall of the palace gardens, now deep in evening shadow. "It's narrower than I remember, and more overgrown."
She eased herself between the walls, stepping over the tangle of weeds and loose stones, praying silently to Wadjet that there were no cobras hiding there. The air was still, cool and damp, and small things rustled and scurried in the undergrowth. A few paces and she came to tumbled stones and the gnarled roots of the old acacia tree. "It's still here," she called back. "We can climb the wall easily. Come on."
"No lady, I cannot," wept Tio. "I would 'old you back wheres a man and a woman can go unnoticed. I wills go back to the kitchens an' meets you later."
"Where, Tio?"
"The old place wheres I used to work. Mahuhy's brothel. 'E'll be on the run too." The older woman turned and ran back through the orchard.
Khu forced his way into the narrow gap and came up behind Scarab. He looked up at the ruined wall, measuring the handholds on the stones and tree. "What's on the other side?"
"The great temples of Amun. I think we can find refuge there, at least temporarily. I know...or knew one of the priests, a man called Pa-Siamen. Smenkhkare used to bring me here. He always said I was welcome."
"That was many years ago, Scarab. You are now the princess Beketaten, sister to the king who banned his god. Remember he is a priest of Amun."
Scarab shrugged and clambered up the tree and stones. She straddled the wall and looked down into the ill-kempt gardens surrounding the temple, then back at the carefully manicured orchards and gardens of the royal palace. "We must make the best of it, Khu," she said. "Can you think of a better place to go?"
Khu followed her up the tree and swung his leg over the wall, sitting beside her. "And here I was thinking I'd had all my adventures. Seems like I only have to stick close to you." He grinned and jumped forward, landing in the long grass and rolling over. Getting to his feet, he held out his arms to the princess on the wall. "Come on then, Scarab. I'll catch you."
Skirts flying, she jumped.
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Chapter Nine
General Psenamy arrived in Akhet-Aten by the desert road in the middle of the morning, after a forced march from Waset. He brought with him the Waset legion, fifteen hundred strong and ostensibly dedicated to Amun, though still circumspect about openly carrying the symbols of the god, particularly here in the stronghold of the Aten. Curious eyes watched the troops as they poured through the narrow gap in the southern valley, past the vast cattle pens and into the crescent-shaped plain that held the City of the Sun. The audience grew as the army approached, by degrees curious, then welcoming and at last alarmed as the size of the army became apparent. Citizens who had lined the streets at the southern end of the city fell silent and withdrew, watching from doorways and behind shuttered windows. At length the soldiers came to the grand Royal Road and the palace.
Psenamy halted the troops and rapped out a series of commands, spreading his men out to guard the exits from the palace. Five hundred were dispatched to the north of the city with orders to subdue the local garrison and take the North Palace, securing that end of the city. Another five hundred set out to quell any disturbance from the populace, though most citizens had already left the streets. The general led a hundred men inside the palace, brushing aside the guards at the main doorway.
"Kill any who resist," Psenamy snarled to his officers. "But the Heretic is not to be harmed."
A servant, in terror of his life, led them to the chamber of justice where the king sat, hearing petitions from his nobles. Throwing open the great double doors, Psenamy led his men into the chamber, interrupting the king as he sat dispensing justice to his subjects. His soldiers rapidly disarmed the surprised royal guards and herded the nobles to one end of the hall. He strode up the middle, his sandals slapping the bare tiled floor loudly in the sudden silence. Halting before the throne where Akhenaten sat in stony splendor, he saluted.
"Lord Waenre Akhenaten, I bring greetings from Tjaty Ay."
Akhenaten sat still, as unmoving as a statue, his heavily-made-up eyes betraying the only signs of life. He sat stiffly, his feet tucked neatly beneath the throne, his arms crossed over his bare chest with the crook and flail of office held firmly in hands that, by the whitening around the knuckles, displayed his tension. A shendyt kilt, dyed a rich red, with gold-threaded border, girded his loins. The double crown of Kemet soared above the king, red and white, and the curved and carved symbolic beard protruded from his chin, held by a thin strap.
"Akhenaten," Psenamy repeated. "I bring greetings from Tjaty Ay."
The king stirred and his eyes sought out the man standing before the throne. "Who are you and what are you doing here?" he said in the direction of the man's voice.
"I am General Psenamy of the Waset legion, and as I said, I bring greetings from Tjaty Ay."
"I did not command you here." Akhenaten's eyes drifted over the armed soldiers filling the room. He could not see them clearly but he remembered what the man had said. "Why is the Waset legion off-station? And why are they armed in my presence? Send them out at once."
Psenamy ignored the king's command. "I also bring news, Akhenaten," he said, a touch of arrogance creeping into his voice as he realized he controlled the situation utterly. "Your brother Djeserkheperu Smenkhkare is dead."
A sigh swept through the room and a few of the women cried out before being hushed. The king looked hard at the general for several minutes before asking, "How did he die?"
"A hunting trip. He was taken by a crocodile and dragged beneath the water."
"Why did his companions not save him?"
"Only one was nearby. He was killed too."
"Was his body recovered?"
Psenamy shook his head.
Another long pause ensued before the king sighed and shifted his position on the throne. "I will pray to my father the Aten that his spirit may enter the blessed fields despite his body not being buried." He looked away from Psenamy. "You have my leave to go. All of you; leave me."
"I cannot do that, Akhenaten." Psenamy signaled his men and they closed in around the throne.
Akhenaten frowned. "You disobey me? Have you taken leave of your senses?"
"I have come to my senses at last, as has Kemet herself. You have brought the Two Lands to the brink of ruin by your actions and your inactions. For the sake of all, you must be protected, even from yourself."
"You are mad." Akhenaten gestured with his flail. "Guards, remove this madman from my presence."
Psenamy smiled and stepped closed to th
e seated king. "Your word no longer commands obedience, Akhenaten," he said quietly, so only the king could hear. "You will be taken from here and another shall rule in your place."
Slowly, the king got to his feet and stood erect, back straight. He looked out over the head of Psenamy toward the gathered nobles. "So, it has come to this. You would kill your anointed king. Know that Aten sees all and will curse you and your men down the halls of eternity." He drew himself up and looked disdainfully at the general. "Strike then and be damned."
Psenamy laughed. "You are not going to die, Akhenaten, nothing so melodramatic. You will be incarcerated while we get Kemet strong again. Who knows? Maybe you will be allowed a wife and freedom to worship your god from your prison. Maybe if you cease your madness you will be allowed back."
Akhenaten's shoulders sagged and the crook and flail drooped to his sides. His already long face lengthened and the symbolic beard slipped, dropping around his neck. "You will allow me my beloved Ankhesenpaaten and the Aten?"
Psenamy reached up and removed the tall double crown from Akhenaten's head, placing it on the ground, before taking the crook and flail, symbols of royalty from his unresisting fingers. "Not Ankhesenpaaten, we have other plans for her. You may have your lady Kiya instead." The general signaled to his men and they surrounded the king. "Akhenaten, you will now accompany me to the North Palace where you will remain under guard." He regarded the immobile, crushed figure in front of him. "Must I order my men to use force, or will you come willingly?"
Akhenaten's eyes flashed briefly, dark behind the cloudiness of his failing eyesight. "I am still the king, anointed and chosen by the god. You may have me in your power but I am still your lord and master until you kill me." He smiled sourly. "And then I will be with the Aten and you will be nothing." The king pushed forward and Psenamy hurried to catch up with him, his troops walking fast, their spears held threateningly outward.
