The Amarnan Kings, Book 2: Scarab - Smenkhkare

by Overton, Max

  Arnu led the way across the courtyard and had a woman draw water from the well, splashing it into a tub. Jebu stripped to the waist and wet himself down, scrubbing at his matted chest hairs and soaking the long locks of his head and beard. Grabbing some folded bed linen he roughly dried himself before donning his clothing again. "Better," he muttered. "No chance of a clean tunic, I suppose?" He shrugged when Arnu said nothing and busied himself digging his fingers into his long hair, raking his ragged nails through it and combing it into a vague semblance of respectability.

  Food came next, and the service was as cursory as the washing. Bread, some dried goat's meat with the fat on it congealed and faintly rancid, and copious amounts of water from the well. Jebu chewed and swallowed standing up, his back to the kitchen wall, his eyes roaming over the captain and his small group of men.

  Evening fell, and the cooking fires cast a lurid glow over the waiting men, glinting redly from watchful eyes. Wiping his greasy hands on the damp linen, he drained his mug of water and nodded at Arnu.

  "When does the king wish to see me?"

  "At sunset." Arnu grinned and his men chuckled, fingering their weapons. "I'm afraid you have kept your king waiting and we all know Aziru does not like to be insulted like that. I would not give a dog's corpse for your chances now...General." He stood aside and waved Jebu toward the door and the courtyard beyond.

  The guards at the doors of the king's chambers stood to one side, staring impassively at Jebu and his armed escort. Throwing the doors open, Arnu marched into the centre of the hall and saluted.

  "Dread king, the traitor Jebu."

  Aziru sat at a trestle table with two other men. Jebu recognized Mutaril, the Hittite ambassador from the court of their theoretical ally, Shubbiluliuma, and Ashraz, Aziru's spymaster. Aziru looked up as the squad of guards entered the hall, and watched stony-faced as his general was brought forward.

  "Why is he late, captain?" Aziru asked softly. "I commanded him to be here at sunset."

  "He insisted on washing and eating first, dread king. He would not be hurried."

  Aziru turned a baleful eye on Jebu, noting the wet and straggly hair and beard, the grease stains on the man's tunic. "You put cleanliness and food before the wishes of your king?"

  Jebu bowed low then straightened and smiled at Aziru. "Your majesty's presence satisfies my heart and my mind, yet I fear my body is weak and needs sustenance. I would be strong that I might serve your majesty well."

  "He has the tongue of a courtier," Mutaril murmured.

  "If I thought he had, I would rip it from him," Aziru growled. "I have need of a general, not another sycophant." He noticed Arnu and his guard avidly attentive and waved a hand dismissively. "Leave us, captain."

  The king waited until the room had emptied of guards before addressing Jebu again. "What happened, Jebu? I expect my generals to win battles. If they do not, they should have the courtesy of dying with their troops."

  "That is why you have a lot of inexperienced generals."

  "Don't be clever, Jebu. Tell me why you lost the battle when you had all the advantages."

  "I would dispute I lost the battle."

  "You withdrew from the field."

  "As did the enemy."

  "My lord Aziru," Mutaril interposed smoothly. "Perhaps we could hear General Jebu's thoughts on the battle and our Kemetu foes."

  Aziru grunted and sat back in his chair. "Go on then."

  Jebu bowed again. "Horemheb is one of the reasons we are still sitting in Kenaan instead of living off the fat of the land in Lower Kemet. My spies told me he had left his army under the command of a junior officer. I thought it worth testing his ability."

  "With what result, general?" Mutaril twirled his silver wine cup, staring into its ruby depths rather than looking at Jebu.

  "I destroyed all his war chariots and killed nearly four thousand Kemetu."

  "And your losses?"

  "Less than a thousand."

  Aziru leaned forward again. "Then how is it you left the enemy in possession of the field?"

  "Horemheb was not present but his men were."

  "Of course. What of it?"

  "We thought Kemet weakened when their king denied gold to their armies. Thousands left and all that faced us were the ones who had little to lose. Those few became the core of Horemheb's army. They are well-trained, disciplined and fierce. They fight not for gold but for their country." Jebu started pacing, unaware of his growing unrest. "That is all that saved that raw commander from complete, ignominious defeat." He smacked a fist into his other hand. "They were in full retreat, almost a rout and he turned them. That bastard of a commander rallied them and they stood and faced my army again."

  "His name is Paramessu," Ashraz commented. "Son of Seti, a former troop commander and judge of the garrison town of Zarw."

  "Is that relevant?" Aziru asked.

  "No information is irrelevant, your majesty. If we cannot see the relevance it is only because we...ah...cannot yet discern the pattern."

  Aziru glowered. "If you were not so valuable to me, Ashraz...Go on, Jebu."

  "The Kemetu fought us to a standstill. We were both in such straits that a camel straw could tip the balance. Then it rained--but on the Kemetu only. They were refreshed and we were not. Men started saying the gods favoured them, and I could hold them no longer. I moved my men back out of the valley of Bashra to the first watercourse I could find."

  Aziru frowned, drumming his fingers on the oaken table top. "Did you offend Anu and Amurru in any way? Why would the rain and thunder gods favour our enemies?"

  Jebu shrugged. "The priests offered the pre-battle sacrifices as usual. They even offered up some of the captured Kemetu after we withdrew, but it was too late then."

  "You used signal flags in the battle, Jebu," Ashraz said. "Was it effective?" The spymaster caught another scowl from the king and shrugged apologetically. "It is all grain to my grindstone, your majesty. If I am to serve you I must have information."

  "And how will signal flags...never mind, answer him."

  "They served well enough. Certainly in the early part of the battle before the clouds of dust obscured them. I positioned my command post on a slight rise to increase my visibility."

  "Better than sounding a horn, do you think?"

  "Battles are noisy affairs, Ashraz. Too often the din of metal and cries of pain block the signals."

  "Enough of this," Aziru growled. If you want to know more, ask him later." The king fixed Jebu with a stony glare. "If his head remains on his shoulders," he added. "My brother and ally Shubbiluliuma supplied you with five thousand troops to fight the enemy, yet you left them behind to attack the Kemetu. Naturally he takes this as an insult--that we do not trust him. I have assured my Hittite brother that my feelings for him are unchanged and that the fault is yours alone. He asks for your head--or if I am inclined to be especially generous, the pleasure of separating your head from your body himself. Which is it to be?"

  "I am your majesty's dog. My preferences are of no importance." Jebu bowed again. "I would ask that I may comment on this perceived insult, however." Aziru nodded and he continued. "The commander of the Hittite contingent, Mursilanda, has blocked me at every turn. He refuses to camp with my men, train with them or even discuss plans for the campaigns. He made it very plain that he represented the Hittite king alone and that the only time he would aid me is if his interests were threatened. When the opportunity arose to strike at the Kemetu, I took it, leaving Mursilanda behind to look after the interests of his Hittite master."

  "Yet if you had taken them, the battle might very probably have been won," Mutaril said softly. "You would have had an overwhelming numerical advantage." The Hittite ambassador arose and smoothed his robes before coming around the table to stand close to Jebu.

  "And if he had ignored my commands in the battle, I could have lost it. Then you would have no need to take my head, your majesty. The Kemetu would have taken it and be battering at your
gates right now." Jebu fixed the ambassador with a sardonic gaze. "The Hittite king has given me one of the bright new steel blades, but then forbids me to draw it from its sheath in defense of my king."

  Jebu swung round to face his king and took a step forward, flinging his arms wide. Ashraz tensed and half rose from his seat, his dagger glittering in his hand. Aziru waved him back down.

  "King Aziru. My life is yours to command or take. I exist only to serve you. If you are determined on my death, then give me a blade and set me before the Kemetu army that I may take some of them with me into the afterworld."

  Aziru pondered; his chin on his fist. His eyes flicked across to the Hittite ambassador and caught the faintest of nods. Ashraz the spymaster raised an eyebrow, slipping his dagger back in his belt.

  "Agreed," Aziru said shortly. "When we find the Kemetu army you will meet them with a good blade in your hand." A faint smile creased his bearded face. "I would prefer it if you took the army with you and defeated my enemies, General Jebu, but I leave that to your judgment."

  Jebu looked from king to spymaster to ambassador and back to Aziru. "I...you want me to take the army?"

  "I believe that is the function of a general."

  "Then I am still a general?"

  "Yes."

  Jebu's jaw tightened. "So what was the purpose of...of this playacting?"

  Aziru waved a hand at Ashraz. "Tell him."

  "Jebu, old friend, you must try and see this from a broader perspective. Our army engages the enemy having left what is arguably its most powerful unit behind. Then the battle is inconclusive and you withdraw from the field. Your loyalty was called into question and the king felt an investigation was called for."

  "Mursilanda has been questioned and reluctantly admitted to an appalling misinterpretation of our king's instructions." Mutaril took a ring from his finger and held it out. "Take this, Jebu. It is the authority of Shubbiluliuma. Mursilanda will obey without question if you have this ring."

  Jebu took the heavy silver ring molded in the form of a horned bull's head. He turned it over and over, then slowly slipped it onto the forefinger of his left hand. "I accept your words, ambassador, and those of my own king. I am, as ever, your loyal subject, but I would know one thing more. Who was it that called my loyalty into question?"

  Aziru stirred, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "My cousin, Lord Amalti. May I ask your intentions?"

  Jebu's nostrils flared and his fists clenched by his sides. "He dishonours me. I will kill him."

  "That is what I was afraid of. Did I not say that, Ashraz?"

  "Indeed, your majesty."

  "I cannot allow my only capable general to put himself in added danger by challenging a powerful lord."

  "With respect, your majesty. I cannot be any sort of general until he is dead. My honour is more important than my life."

  "Your words again, majesty," Ashraz murmured.

  "You would never get near him, Jebu. My cousin Amalti lives in fear of assassination and has many guards. However, he also has many enemies, and it would not surprise me if one succeeded." Aziru smiled knowingly at his general. "I assume Amalti's death would wipe out the stain on your honour?"

  Jebu pursed his lips and stroked his beard thoughtfully. "It would depend on whether the killer knew of my dishonour. If he did, then I could accept his death."

  Ashraz laughed out loud. "Your majesty, you know your general so very well. It is exactly as you predicted. Shall I?" Aziru nodded and the spymaster pulled a leather bag from under the table, loosened the drawstrings and pulled out the bloodied head of the king's cousin, Lord Amalti. Gripping the head by its long, matted hair, he held it up for all to see. "He knew, Jebu. At the end he knew that retribution fell on him from Aziru and his General."

  Jebu sighed deeply and ran his fingers through his still-damp hair. "Then I shall take my place at the head of your army again, majesty."

  Aziru nodded. "I expect great things of you, Jebu. Train your army, and when you are ready, take bloody war to the Kemetu. With the help of the gods I will yet be king in Kemet."

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  Chapter Twenty-One

  Four generations back, Zarw had been a small army garrison near the eastern borders of Kemet and near enough to the main trade route that led from the cities of the Great River north and east into Kenaan and the lands beyond, to be tactically important. When famine gripped the Fertile Crescent that encompassed the lands of Babylon, Mitanni, Hurri and Amori, people of those countries looked to Kemet. Rains might have failed, but the River always flooded, and grain was plentiful. Into the land of Kemet came a Khabiru seer, in the time of the great Nebmaetre Amenhotep's father, Tuthmosis. He settled initially in the rich Delta lands around Zarw, but his fame as a seer and a prophet brought his name to the attention of the king. Tuthmosis sent for Yuya, for such was his name, and tested him, pitting him against the prophets of his god Amun.

  It is said that the god of Yuya triumphed, and that may well have been the case, for the priests of Amun declared undying hatred for the god of the Khabiru, the one with no name and no image. Yuya returned to Zarw and married, raising three children by his Kemetu-Nubian wife Tuya--Ay, Aanen and Tiye. The king's son, Amenhotep, came to Zarw fifteen years later and fell in love with Tiye, for great beauty was common in that family, and married her. It was almost unheard of for a prince to make a commoner his queen, but such was Tuthmosis' love for his son, that he raised Yuya to the position of Tjaty and caused to be built a great palace for his son and Tiye in Zarw, so she could be near her people, the Khabiru.

  When Tuthmosis was called to the gods, Nebmaetre Amenhotep took his wife Tiye to Waset and ruled as king from the power base of his family. A city grew up around Tiye's palace in Zarw, and further out, in the rich fertile plains of the lower Delta, a community of Khabiru flourished and grew.

  Scarab and Khu arrived in Zarw a month after leaving Iunu. They came overland with a small caravan of traders, paying their passage with another link of the gold chain. Scarab agonized over leaving the boat lad Amenhotep behind, but assuaged her guilt by arguing that they would be hard pressed to return before he left at the appointed time. Also, she felt a drive to be in Zarw. She had to reach Horemheb and though she knew the general had been in Waset, he surely would be returning to his army. Zarw was the one place she could be sure of crossing his path.

  There is a small hill to the southwest of the city, no more than twenty or thirty cubits high, yet from the caravan route it hid the city completely. As the trail of mules, herds of goats and the few camels of their caravan started to round the hill, Scarab pulled Khu away from the line and hurried upward, over-riding his protests.

  "I want to see the city before we arrive there and this hill is the best opportunity."

  "We can see it quite well enough from down there," Khu grumbled. "I'm tired, and anyway, how do you know you can even see the city from up here? You've never been here before."

  "Aram told me." Scarab saw the questioning look. "One of the Khabiru herdsmen. He comes from Zarw."

  She mounted the top and looked across the green plain to the still-distant walled city of Zarw. The walls themselves surrounded the palace of Tiye and its gardens and temples, but the city itself lay outside, the tumbled and crowded mass of mud brick houses cowering under the walls like small children clinging to the skirts of their mother. The city of the Khabiru lay to the south and west of Zarw proper, a gaily coloured blazon of tents for the most part as befitted a traditionally nomadic people, but here and there were clusters of mud brick houses. To the north lay the army barracks behind its own set of walls. Between the two cities and the army lay a vast sea of cultivated land, a patchwork of crops and pasture tended by the Khabiru. Scarab pointed out the features she knew and guessed at others.

  "That's the canal my father built for my mother." A broad channel of water arrowed out of the west from the distant river, the sunlight dazzling off its choppy surface. Sm
all boats plied its surface, carrying people, animals and the wealth of the land. Surrounded by trees and reeds, the channel looked more like a river save for the abrupt way it ended close under the walls of the palace, cluttered by a mass of rickety wharves, refuse from the city bobbing in the water. "My mother used to tell me the channel was the most beautiful thing she'd seen," Scarab said sadly. "Look what they've done to it since she left." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and sniffed loudly.

  "Never mind, it is not my concern now. That's where we have to go first," she said, pointing at the army barracks. "If Horemheb is not there, hopefully they will have word of him."

  "What about the palace? It belonged to your mother."

  "I cannot be known as a daughter of Nebmaetre. If word got back to Ay..."

  "You don't think they'll recognise you anyway? You have a...a certain look about you. That hair for instance. Shouldn't you shave it off again?"

  Scarab stroked her hair, knowing it was as short as a man's and made her stand out, but it was the colour of her mother's hair and she was not going to shave. "I'll pass myself off as a Khabiru woman. I look enough like one and I can speak the language after a fashion."

  Khu nodded, knowing that once she got a thought in her head it was harder to shake out than a stick insect in a bush. "Hadn't we better be getting back? The caravan is past the hill already."

  They ran down the hill and rejoined the tail end of the plodding caravan, walking easily along as the road skirted the outer edges of the Khabiru city before plunging through it to Zarw itself and one of the palace gates. The herds stopped in holding pens within the camp, but the mules, laden with trade goods continued on inward.

  As they walked deeper into the Khabiru city, they found themselves immersed in a great sea of strangers, yet for Scarab, they were familiar strangers. She had known few Khabiru in her lifetime, her mother and two uncles, a scattering of servants within the palace, but these had dressed in the Kemetu way, speaking the language of the Two Lands. Here for the first time was literally hundreds of men, women and children who looked like her family and servants but, being dressed outlandishly, they struck her as strangely exotic.