The Amarnan Kings, Book 2: Scarab - Smenkhkare

by Overton, Max

  Paramessu frowned. "Sir," he said hesitantly. "What of the Amorites? Our last reports had them marching south toward us. Surely...er, is this a good time to leave?"

  "I feel confident their General Jebu will hang back as usual. No doubt he will harass the local villages, enjoy a spot of pillage. If you keep the units in close contact, he will fall back. With luck, I'll be back in two months and we can plan a major offensive that will end the Amorite menace."

  "You are leaving me in charge, sir?"

  "Can you think of anyone better?"

  Paramessu considered the question carefully. It was a great honour to be picked to head the Northern Army against the enemy, but with the honour went responsibility. If he made a mistake and this led to a major defeat, his head would not stay on his shoulders long. He wanted the position, but he felt the weight of the command already. "No, sir, I cannot think of anyone better," he said at last.

  Horemheb leapt to his feet. "Then let's get your appointment announced and I can leave." Striding to the tent flap he pushed it to one side and emerged under the hammer blows of the sun. "Captain," he yelled, as the perimeter of guards snapped to attention. "Assemble the legion commanders and officers down to Hundred level by the temple. At the double, man. Do you think I pay you good gold to sit on your fat ass all day?"

  The captain, trim and fit, snapped off a salute and took to his heels. He grumbled to himself as he ran. "Good gold? When was the last time I got to see gold? Dust and flies and the flux more like." However, he grinned as he spoke, feeling the honour of being picked by General Horemheb for this task, however menial.

  By the time Horemheb and Paramessu got to the makeshift army temple--panels of wood and cloth surrounding an altar and cedarwood chests containing the images of the gods--most of the officers were in place, the last of them running in from the sprawling camp. The General waited until the last of them arrived before speaking.

  "Men of the Northern Army, I have no doubt that by now rumors of events back in our beloved homeland are running through the camp like fleas on an Amorite king." He paused for the ripple of laughter and appreciation that always followed his first words. "I will confirm those rumors for you. Our king Ankhkheperure Djeserkheperu Smenkhkare has been called to the gods and his young brother Tutankhaten is to be enthroned in Waset in thirty days time." The noise from the assembled officers changed to one of anguish, cries and groans ringing out at the news that the god-on-earth had passed away.

  "I must be in Waset for the coronation. It is imperative that the army is represented at the inauguration of this new era in our history. Accordingly, I will leave for Waset today, accompanied by an honour guard. While I am gone, Legion Commander Paramessu will command the Northern Army. I raise him to the rank of General Commander and as a sign of my favour and authority..." The General's fingers went to the heavy gold around his neck. "...I bestow upon him my Gold of Office." Horemheb raised the links over his head, advanced two paces and slipped the mass of gold around the younger man's neck. He embraced Paramessu, and kissed him on both cheeks. "Make such appointments as are necessary," he murmured. "But only on merit." Drawing back, the General resumed his bold stance before his officers.

  "Some of you are worried about the Amorites. Some have already voiced their concerns to me about their approach. Well, let me reassure you on that score. General Jebu, the Amorite leader, is nothing but a bandit chief who operates best when leading armed men against defenseless villagers and peasants. He will be very cautious about facing the armed legions of Kemet." Horemheb looked fondly over the officers of his legions arrayed in front of him, dark eyes staring back from determined, chiseled faces.

  "I see before me the cream of Kemet's forces, the legions of Re, Heru, Set and Ptah, and I feel peace in my heart. I know that I can leave you for a time, returning to you in two months, secure in the knowledge that the northern borders are secure. With such men standing between the Two Kingdoms and the enemy, the people of Kemet can rest easy in their beds. I salute you, men of Kemet's Northern Army."

  The men broke into cheers, fists stabbing upward as the officers voiced their enthusiasm for the task ahead. Horemheb let them cheer, walking among them, embracing some, clapping others on the shoulder, exchanging a few words with most. True to his nature, he did not neglect the lower ranks; letting the Leaders of Hundred see he valued them as much as the legion commanders. At last the cheering faded and Horemheb dismissed them. He walked back to his tent with Paramessu.

  "I'll take a Fifty with me as honour guard. Who would you suggest?"

  Paramessu considered a moment. "Kaha. He's young but he's keen and learns fast. I had him in mind for promotion but he could do with some experience outside of straight army affairs...and I know you'll work him ragged."

  Horemheb nodded. "Who will you raise to Commander of Re Legion?"

  "Hednakht."

  "Really?" Horemheb's eyebrows lifted a fraction. "I thought you would go with one of the officers in your own Re legion."

  "Only on merit, I believe you said, sir."

  "So I did. Well, it's nothing to do with me. You are in command for two months. Just don't lose me my army."

  "I won't sir," Paramessu said with a grin. He saluted his commander and hurried off, eager to issue his first orders as General, though in fact there was little that needed doing in Horemheb's Northern Army.

  Horemheb watched him go, his face expressionless, before ducking inside the tent to pack his few belongings for the trek south.

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  * * *

  Chapter Fourteen

  General Jebu cracked his whip above the rumps of his horses, setting his heavy war chariot flying along the road through the Amorite camp. Soldiers and the inevitable camp followers jumped aside in haste as he passed, though none dared show open displeasure. Men stared after him, thinking thoughts of violence and women muttered imprecations as the chariot disappeared into its cloud of dust. Jebu stared fixedly ahead, ignoring the armed might that lay all around him, goading his horses to ever greater speed. His companion and lieutenant, Ephras, clung to the railing of the jouncing chariot with white knuckled intensity, thankful at least that the stiff breeze off the mountains kept the dust away from them. Instead it trailed west in a dense plume, covering the tents of the encamped army with a thin white pall.

  The road branched, one curving eastward toward the distant coast, the other continuing north toward the camp of the Hittite mercenaries. Jebu reined the horses in and let them catch their gusting breaths, flanks zebra-striped with sweat, foam-flecked nostrils gaping wide. He stared to the north at the mercenary camp, ignoring the sentries fingering their small recurved bows as they looked at this intruder with suspicion.

  "Martu give me strength," Jebu muttered. "Raman, Thunderer, deliver me from my enemies...and my so-called allies." He jerked his head toward the Hittite camp. "A pox on both Shubbiluliuma and Aziru. They give me gold to raise an army and buy mercenaries, and then hamstring me with such as these."

  "The Hittite mercenaries, you mean?" Ephras' voice came hesitantly. One did not draw undue attention to oneself when the General was angered.

  "Of course the fornicating Hittites," Jebu snarled. "Who did you think I meant?" Ephras kept prudently silent. "You were there with me in Taanach when they gave me gold..." Jebu caught sight of Ephras' mystified expression. "No, that's right, you weren't. Thank you for correcting me."

  Ephras tried to think of a way to decline the dubious honour of correcting his General but could not think of a way that would not get him whipped. He stayed silent, trying to look calm and at ease, however much of a lie that was.

  "Aziru gave me gold, much gold, which he said was a gift from that poxed Shubbiluliuma. Gold to buy arms, gold to hire mercenaries, gold to train an army good enough to defeat Kemet. All well and good, Ephras, but what does he do then? I'll tell you," he went on, overriding his lieutenant's silence. "I can buy arms from Hittite merchants only, who sell me bronze, not superior
iron. I can hire mercenaries, as long as they are Hittites and I can train my army as long as it never gets good enough to defeat Shubbiluliuma's army. And that is a long way off being good enough to take Horemheb. The gold was a gift but it returns to its giver so fast it has not time to do any good."

  Jebu stood motionless in the carriage of the chariot, his hands controlling the horses, his eyes roving over the Hittite sentries. "Look at them, Ephras. I am their Commander, yet they would cut me down without compunction. How does Aziru expect me to weld them into a decent fighting unit?"

  "Per...perhaps y...you are not...not meant to, sir," Ephras stuttered.

  "Eh?" Jebu dragged his eyes from a glowering contemplation of his supposed allies, and focused them on his shaking lieutenant. "What do you mean? Explain yourself."

  Ephras took a deep breath and gripped the rail of the chariot tightly to stop his tremors. He stared ahead at the horses' backs and fought to find the right words. "The Hittites give gold to Aziru so Aziru may wage war on the Kemetu. But then they weaken the effect so Aziru cannot defeat the Kemetu. Who benefits from this situation?"

  Jebu frowned. "Go on," he said quietly.

  "Yes sir. Well, the Kemetu are weakened by a protracted war. It takes a lot of gold to keep a large army in readiness, even for a war that may not come. We Amorites do not achieve our aim of conquering Kemet and must continually fight our enemies on all sides. We cannot be a threat to any other kingdom."

  "But Shubbiluliuma, the puppet master, benefits all round. By all the gods, it is so obvious." Jebu smacked his forehead with the palm of one hand. "The Hittites gain a weakened Kemet and an ineffectual ally in Aziru who will never be a threat but instead will be grateful for their supposed help." Jebu raised an eyebrow inquiringly at the young man. "You thought of this all by yourself?"

  "Er, yes sir."

  "Very good, Ephras." Jebu stroked his beard thoughtfully. "And have you also thought of a solution to my problem?"

  Ephras shook his head. "No sir."

  "Then it is as well that I have."

  "You have, sir? May...may I ask..."

  "Let me think on it, Ephras." Jebu turned the chariot in a wide circle, leaving the rutted road and bouncing over the uneven surface of the plain until they rejoined the road, heading back the way they had come. He kept the horses reined in, denying them their heads, as he concentrated on the problem in hand. The outlying tents of the Amorite encampment reappeared, set among the scrub of the foothill plains. Soldiers were seen in increasing numbers, doing all the things that soldiers do in the eons of boredom between the instants of death and terror. Weapons were sharpened, equipment repaired, fires tended and food prepared, clothes were washed and darned. Those with wives, or with a woman, whether of their own or shared, spent time in drinking and carousing, in making love or picking fights. Most ignored their commander in his war chariot but a few watched him drive by, wondering what his quiet mood presaged.

  As they neared the centre of the camp and the large commander's tent, Jebu shook himself, turning his attention outward once more. He nodded, reaching a decision and swung down from the chariot, throwing the reins to a young groom. Ephras followed. The man led the horses off to be groomed and fed while Jebu snapped out a series of command to Ephras and the other men hanging around the entrance to his tent.

  "Bring wine, Hittite wine. Find the senior officers, colonels and upward. Have the quartermasters ready to strike camp, but make sure the men have eaten first."

  Ephras hurried off to issue further orders that would facilitate his General's commands. He was back at Jebu's tent before the last of the colonels arrived.

  Jebu looked round the small circle of senior officers. Most had been with him or in similar armed units for several years, though the men they commanded might be young and ill-disciplined. He nodded to the servants to serve drinks to the officers and accepted a gold cup of fine Hittite wine. Raising his cup, Jebu waited until the murmuring died down, and proposed a toast.

  "To victory over Kemet."

  The officers dutifully drank--What fool would turn down dark, sweet Hittite wine?--But disbelief showed in their faces.

  One of them, a heavily bearded, swarthy-skinned man with a sty in his left eye, lowered his wine cup and belched. "An admirable sentiment, Jebu, but did you bring us here just to voice platitudes?"

  "Indeed, no, Simas," Jebu replied. "You, and everyone else here, will soon have the opportunity to strike a physical blow against the might of Kemet, instead of just mumbling into your wine."

  The officers muttered among themselves but looked away, not wanting to meet General Jebu's eyes. At length, Simas spoke what was on everyone's mind. "We have heard a lot of talk, General. Even from Aziru when he was here last month, but we all know it'll take more than brave words and gold to defeat Kemet." He looked round at the other officers, hoping for support, but as none came, continued on alone. "Don't get me wrong, I, and most of us are here for the plunder and good Hittite gold is worth fighting for, but really, General, what chance do we have against Horemheb?"

  Jebu smiled, twirling his wine cup. "We outnumber him."

  Simas nodded. "True, but not by much. Perhaps fifteen thousand to twelve. And his troops are seasoned warriors whereas most of ours are raw mercenaries and half-trained recruits. Barely a third of ours know how to fight properly--or want to."

  "Even a farm lad can kill a soldier with a stone or a spear."

  "You are dreaming Jebu," Simas sneered. "Before the Kemetu soldiers got within spear range, these farmers would have wet themselves and be half way back to their villages, crying for their mothers."

  "Then we must find a way to get our lads behind the Kemetu."

  "It will do no good," another officer broke in. "Horemheb is no fool."

  "Defeated before you even start, Merru?" Jebu shook his head sadly. "So you will not fight Horemheb?"

  "It's not a matter of will not, Jebu," Simas said. "It is just plain folly."

  "What if I told you Horemheb is no longer with his army?"

  "What?"

  "Where is he?"

  "How do you know?" A chorus of voices broke out, clamoring for news.

  Jebu held his arms out, waving the noise down. "The news arrived last night. One of the Kemetu kings has died and another is to be crowned in Waset. Horemheb has left his army in the field to attend the coronation."

  "Gods," Simas expostulated. "His king will have his head for that."

  "If you left your men, or I did, no doubt Aziru would have ours." Jebu shook his head. "That won't be Horemheb's fate."

  "Then of what significance is the news?" Merru asked.

  "He has placed the command in the hands of an untried general, one Paramessu. I say it is time we showed this new general what it is to face an Amorite army."

  "And Horemheb is definitely gone?" Simas asked. "How do you know?"

  "I have a spy in the Kemetu camp. Gold buys more than soldiers. And yes, Simas--all of you--Horemheb is not with his army and we have the greatest opportunity handed to us. We are going to take the battle to Kemet."

  "How, for Martu's sake? We are still out-classed."

  Jebu grinned, picking up a long stick and moving to a patch of bare earth. "Gather round. I'll show you."

  ***

  It takes a long time to uproot an army and goad it into moving, so it was noon the next day before Jebu's army started its slow trek southward. Ahead of them, maybe forty miles away, lay the army of the Kemetu. The Amorites could not hope to surprise the enemy--moving fifteen thousand men plus their baggage tends to get noticed--so Jebu sent a picked force of nearly a thousand men on almost all the horses ahead of the column. Their instructions were detailed and explicit and more than a little mysterious as the riders carried few arms; pack horses carrying instead a strange assortment of tools and equipment. They disappeared to the south, the pall of dust raised by their hooves blanketing the trudging men as they set out in slow pursuit.

  The land through w
hich they moved was green after the summer rains but already drying. The grass and the unkempt fields of barley were just starting to show the faintest autumn hues, jewels of red poppy and blue cornflower winking among the stems. The farmers had fled the land but the earth still moved in its cycles, the plants and animals largely ignoring the passage of humans. The broad front of the moving army filled the road and burst out on either side, trampling the nascent harvest beyond hope of recovery.

  They camped that night by a small stream barely five miles onward, chopping down groves of willow and aspen to fuel the campfires. The next morning, Jebu's army moved on, leaving a great stain on the land where it had rested. Three days more and Jebu, ahead of his strung out army, halted his war chariot on a small spur of the chain of hills that broke the coastal plains north of the Kemetu border. Ahead of them stretched a flat plain, bounded on either side by fields of boulders. Even as Jebu and Ephras watched, trails of men burdened by rocks and boulders trudged from the valley floor to the sides, depositing their loads before retuning for more. Behind the ant-like strings of men lay an area of disturbed earth, strung across the base of the valley as if forming a backdrop to the open stage of the bare and level valley floor.

  "Is that wise, General?" Ephras asked. "Clearing the valley of rocks will certainly make it easy for our chariots, but the Kemetu have many more."

  "Yes, I suppose they do, but you were there, Ephras. Did you not hear my plan?"

  "I heard it, but I did not understand it. How do lines on the ground translate into armies of men?" The young man shrugged. "I doubt others understood it better than I."

  "Well, we shall see." Jebu shook the reins and guided his chariot down into the valley, skirting the area of disturbed soil. He gestured to an officer as he came close, gesticulating back at the ground. "Put some guards up there. The army is coming and we don't want accidents."

  The man saluted and ran off, calling to his men. Jebu drove the chariot down into the centre of the valley and stopped again, carefully examining the view in all directions. He nodded. "It will do."