The Amarnan Kings, Book 2: Scarab - Smenkhkare

by Overton, Max

  "So let me see if I have this right...this Son of Sobek appears out of nowhere less than a year ago. His rag-tag army of tribesmen, slaves and deserters do what they will, go where they please, attack what they like, and when you beat them off from a town, you call it a victory?"

  "Sir, that is harsh..."

  "You have given me no evidence that the army is doing anything. Instead you stay holed up in the towns and forts and react to whatever this man does. You think me harsh? I will show you harsh, Penno. I am going to take my Amun legion and every man you have and I will take the offensive. I will carry the attack to these rebels and I swear by my own god Heru that before a month is out I will have this Son of Sobek fed to his god's crocodiles or fleeing for his life." He rammed his right hand forward with each claim as if pushing his words at the junior officer. The wine in his cup splashed out with every gesture, staining his hands and clothing unheeded.

  Penno flushed but refrained from saying anything.

  Horemheb glared at the lieutenant, as if daring him to contradict his statements. When nothing was forthcoming, he nodded stiffly and put his wine cup down, grimacing at the purple splashes of wine on his kilt. "You have a map? I need to know the lay of the land."

  "Yes sir." Penno got up and hurried out, returning a few minutes later with a large scroll of papyrus. Horemheb had, in the meantime, cleared a space on the table, and Penno unrolled the map, anchoring the corners with plates, Amenemipet's untouched wine cup and a pitcher of water.

  Horemheb bent over the map, his eyes roaming, following the lapis line of the river and other unfamiliar symbols. "Where are we?" he asked.

  "Here, sir." The great river curved up from the bottom of the map, bearing to the west and south in a great loop, almost running backward again, north and east before suddenly resuming its southerly course toward the top of the map. Penno tapped the papyrus not far past the start of the loop. "Here is Sehotep-Neteru, here and here are the forts he captured and..." His finger traced across the map, stopping briefly both north and south of the capital. "...here are the towns he attacked and was beaten off."

  "Does he have a base?"

  "Not that we know of, sir."

  "Then where does he hide with an army of a thousand men? This may be a large province, but he still needs to feed and water them. My guess is he won't be far from the river."

  Penno hesitated. "Er, there are wells, sir." He took a deep breath and pointed to the map once more. "Downriver, where the forts of Ikku and Kubban guard the road to the mines, there is a dry watercourse, a broad valley that only flows when the rains are hardest--there are wells dug that supply the mine slaves and guards." Reaching out to a dish of nuts he took a handful and started placing them on the map. "These are wells, sir, sources of water far from the river."

  "Wells deep enough to supply a thousand men?"

  "Few," Penno conceded. "Perhaps this one here on the road to the mines--they call it the Well of the King--another here, almost due east of us, and..." Penno searched the map carefully, looking for landmarks. "And here, sir. Perhaps two days march east of the temple of Amun at Amara in the province of Kush."

  Horemheb retrieved the dish of sugared dates and replaced the nuts at the three points Penno had marked, with a piece of fruit. He stood back and considered the map, noting positions and the placement of the river and the wells. "Where would you hide, Penno?" he asked. "Put yourself in this character Sobek's sandals."

  Penno gave the matter considerable thought, his fingers tracing patterns on the papyrus and his lips forming the sounds of the places on the map. Once or twice he absentmindedly picked up a well nut and ate it, crunching the seed as he worked. "A thousand places to hide if I were alone, but with an army? If I wanted just to hide, I'd pull back beyond the third cataract. Plenty of places there you could hide an army a hundred times the size."

  Horemheb looked at the map, considering the distances involved. The room was quiet and he could just distinguish the faint sounds of the Nubian gardeners outside as they worked. "He won't go there. He needs to be close enough to strike at towns and forts."

  "Then here at the well east of Amara."

  "Not up nearer to the gold mines? The one east of us would be handy to everything he needs."

  "Too close, sir. I agree he could be there but I think he'd run too much risk of discovery. Besides, he has another advantage with the Southern Well. It is in Kush and so far he has not attacked Kushite towns."

  "But Kush is a Kemetu province, as is Wawat. Are you telling me he is safe in Kush just because he does not prey there? Are the viceroys at war with each other?"

  "No sir. There is no viceroy in Kush at present. He died of fever a year ago and has not yet been replaced. Until he is, our own viceroy Huy cannot formally ask for assistance." Penno shrugged. "Give me the simple life of a soldier any day."

  "That makes the Kushite well a lot more attractive for this rebel."

  "Oh, yes. I believe he is near the Amaran Road."

  Horemheb nodded. "You've thought about this. All right, the Southern Well it is. How do we get there? What is the terrain like? What route would you take?"

  Penno considered, idly eating the nuts that represented the wells as he thought. "There are two possible routes. The first is the easiest. The Amaran Road runs down this wide valley called Tanjur in the Nubian tongue. It has the advantage of being in very dry country without villages."

  "Why a road if there are no villages?"

  "It is a trade route that passes the well. For our purposes, the lack of villages means there will be no-one to warn the rebels."

  "If they are there."

  "Yes," Penno nodded. "If they are there." He traced a finger just north of Sehotep-Neteru, again on the eastern bank. "There is another road here, more of a track really, that starts near the temple at Abu Hoda and runs south into the mountains. Very steep and treacherous, but it comes out at the Southern Well. Overall, the land is bad in this loop of the Great River. Dry and sunbaked with nothing to recommend it except gold."

  "You know the country, Penno. Which route would you take?"

  "Both."

  "You'd split our forces?"

  "Normally, no, but in this case it scarcely matters. The Son of Sobek will not confront you head on. He will pick at you like you would a scab, until you bleed. Splitting our force may make him split his."

  "I will force him to battle," Horemheb said firmly. "He will face me or lose any honour he pretends to."

  Penno wisely refrained from commenting, busying himself with pouring more wine into their cups. "What do you plan to do then, General?"

  "How many men can you raise, Penno? Strip the garrison; pull in any auxiliaries you can trust."

  "Three hundred if I am to leave the city and the viceroy properly guarded." He caught his general's eye and stammered in agitation. "F...four maybe, if...then five, but the viceroy will object, sir."

  "I will talk to him." Horemheb drained his wine and stifled a belch. "So, Penno, you will lead your five hundred men up the steep track through the mountains. You know the country. I will take the Amun legion south to Tanjur and strike inland. Together we will crush Sobek's balls." Horemheb brought his empty wine cup down on a stray nut that still adorned the papyrus map, scattering fragments over the mountains.

  "You will need an excuse to take your men south so soon after you got here." Penno dug into his sash band and pulled out a scrap of papyrus, grinning. "By chance I have a report here that says the Son of Sobek has been seen near the temple at Soleb. You will need to follow that report up."

  Horemheb snatched the scrap from Penno's hand and scrutinized the scribblings. "What do melons and cucumbers have to do with anything?"

  Penno tried valiantly to look surprised. "It says that? That must be my shopping list for the quartermaster." He dug into the band of his kilt again. "Dear me, I appear to have lost it. I can only swear to you that the report came in."

  Horemheb passed the piece of papyrus back, his
face impassive. "So you did. I saw it before it was accidentally destroyed."

  The two military men, General and Lieutenant, exited the wide enclosed verandah in the viceroy's palace in Sehotep-Neteru, also called Faras in the Nubian tongue, and marshaled their troops. Within a day, Horemheb's Amun legion had re-embarked to continue their journey south in pursuit of bandits, and Penno, with his much smaller army, headed north to Abu Hoda and the mountain tracks. The two men were pleased with the rapid departure and for added security, allowed the soldiers no contact with the native city. Nobody in the capital city knew their destination or route, not even the viceroy.

  As the fleet moved south again a solitary man, Kemetu by complexion despite his lowly occupation as a gardener in the grounds of the viceroy's palace, watched them go. Fondling the crocodile tooth on a leather cord around his neck, he set off for the dock area to find a boatman willing to ferry him across the river.

  Return to Contents

  * * *

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The messenger from the northeastern border galloped down the Royal Road from the north, the dust of his passing a great column in the faded blue sky of high summer. The heat beat up at him from the baked earth of the withered fields that hung onto life grimly, waiting for the next inundation. He reached Zarw in the early afternoon, leaping from his foundering horse in the army barracks, his eyes red and raw in a dust-caked visage.

  "Where is the General?" the messenger croaked. "I have an urgent message for General Paramessu."

  Servants brought water for washing, sour beer and bread, while others raced to find the most senior officer in the city. Pemheb, the Lieutenant of the Zarw garrison came running, knuckling the sleep from his eyes and yelling at his subordinates to fetch wine, a scribe, and fresh clothing. Before interrogating the messenger he dispatched riders out into the countryside in all directions to seek out the general and the beautiful Khabiru girl in whose company he spent so much time.

  "What in the name of Set is going on?" Pemheb snapped as he strode into the guard room, the scribe and two guards on his heels. Flicking a hand to dismiss the servants, he stared haughtily at the strange sight of the messenger seated at the rickety table cramming as much beer and bread into himself as possible. Water had been applied liberally to his head and upper body revealing its normal copper colour, but his lower limbs remained coated in a thick layer of pale dust, runnels of drying mud streaking him in an exotic pattern.

  The man struggled to his feet and saluted, choking down his mouthful of food. "Paser, my lord, Leader of Five, Heru legion, General Djedhor commanding." He dropped to his knees, prostrating himself in front of the high officer. "I have an urgent message for General Paramessu," he mumbled.

  "Get up," Pemheb said impatiently, nudging the man with one sandaled foot. He waited until the messenger stood before him again. "You have a written message?"

  "Yes sir." His hand moved toward the pouch at his waist then hesitated. "I, er, I'm only supposed to give them to General Paramessu, sir."

  "He is not here at the moment. In his absence I am the ranking officer. You may give them to me."

  "My lord, I cannot." The man licked his lips nervously. "General Djedhor said..."

  "Paser," Pemheb said with a hint of impatience. "If you wish to see your Five again and maybe rise in rank, you will give me the message right now." He held out his hand.

  Paser hesitated a moment longer, then opened his pouch in a puff of dust and handed over a folded and crumpled piece of papyrus.

  Pemheb held the paper delicately in forefinger and thumb for a moment before passing it to the scribe. "Here, Mener, read this to me."

  The scribe bowed and unfolded the message, scanning the contents. "It is in a fair hand, sir, with well-formed characters boldly drawn..."

  "The message, Mener, I am not a scribe to appreciate the finer points of the general's writing."

  "I believe his scribe would have written this...er, yes, my lord. It says, 'To my lord General Commanding of the Northern Army, Paramessu son of..."

  "Skip the honourifics," Pemheb growled. "Get to the meat of it."

  "Yes my lord. It says 'The Amorites have put an army into the field again, heading south from Taanach, perhaps fifteen thousand strong. I expect them to be at Lachish by the new moon. Request you bring all available men and arms.' It is signed Djedhor, Commander of the Heru legion."

  Pemheb swore softly. "Today is two days shy of the full moon." A servant arrived with a small pitcher of wine and a cup, but the Lieutenant waved him away. Telling Paser to return to his meal, Pemheb left, the scribe Mener hurrying after him, hurriedly jotting down notes as the officer fired off a series of commands.

  "Have Hay and Wennere start rounding up every man in Zarw who has ever held arms...get the quartermaster to prepare a list of provisions available...the master-at-arms is to inventory the weapons. Immediately, Mener. Then get my senior officers to the upstairs room...not Hay and Wennere of course, and notify me immediately if Paramessu returns." Mener hurried off, leaving the Lieutenant to stand at the doorway to the guard post looking out at the flurry of activity as the news spread.

  Paramessu and Scarab returned before the sun had moved another hand span across the dusty sky, escorted by one of the riders, and the General was ensconced with his officers within minutes. Scarab left the army to its business and went to the wash room to freshen up and find clean clothing.

  Khu found her as she opened the door to her room in the block of rooms assigned to minor officials associated with the garrison. Several scribes shared apartments here, as did the physician Nebhotep. Scarab and Khu had been granted temporary accommodation at Nebhotep's behest to start with, but Paramessu, as soon as he recovered sufficiently, had made more permanent arrangements. Khu now assisted Nebhotep, and Scarab's official position was as an assistant to the garrison secretary. The last month, however, had seen her position become vaguer, less tenable, as she seldom returned to her room at night, spending most of her days and nights with the man who had become her lover.

  Scarab turned in her doorway and smiled at Khu. "What is happening? All I know is some messenger has arrived and everyone is running around like ducks with their heads cut off."

  Khu did not return her smile. "War, or so the rumor goes. An Amorite army is knocking on the gates of Kemet." His mouth turned down in a grimace as he looked at her closely. "You do not look well. You should consult Nebhotep."

  "I'm fine. Just a bit hot from the desert still. I'll lie down in the dark for a little while."

  Khu shrugged. "As you wish, but I still think you should see Nebhotep." He turned to leave.

  "Khu?" Scarab asked, a trace of a frown on her forehead. "Is anything wrong? You seem...well, distant."

  "Wrong? What could be wrong? I am in hiding in the farthest reaches of the kingdoms, pretending to be a doctor's assistant, while the princess I have sworn to protect puts herself in danger on a daily basis."

  Scarab gaped, then shut her mouth and blinked. "What danger? I am with my...with Paramessu. What harm can come to me when he is with me?"

  "You have to ask me that? Well, perhaps you do. You have led a sheltered life as a princess. Army men, particularly the professional ones, the officers, are tough and violent and are used to taking what they want. Paramessu wants you, Scarab; I can see it in his eyes. You are in danger."

  The air chilled in the corridor as Scarab held onto her anger. "You forget yourself, Khu. I am a royal princess, daughter and sister of kings. I will not be spoken to like this--as if I were a spoiled child or a fool. I know my own mind--and that of Paramessu." She turned and went into her room, shutting the door behind her. Through the thin wood she heard Khu's last rejoinder "If you think you are a princess still, then announce it and see how long you live," before he stamped off down the hallway.

  Khu went upstairs to the chamber Nebhotep used as his workplace. He found the physician standing by a rough bench erected along one wall, grinding dried herbs in a gran
ite mortar. He looked up as Khu entered the room.

  "You look as though you have eaten bitter herbs, Khu. Perhaps while you are in that frame of mind you would be so good as to take the plants in that basket by the door and remove the fruits?"

  Khu nodded without speaking, picking up the basket and carrying it over to a table by the window. Pulling out a wilted branch he started removing the tiny fruits that hung singly or in small clusters. Some were green and some a deep bluish-purple that stained his fingers as he picked them. Without thinking, he raised his hand to his mouth.

  "Stop that," Nebhotep snapped. "Do not taste those fruits, Khu. Wash your hands when you finish but do not allow the juice to come near your mouth or your eyes."

  Khu stared at his stained fingers. "What are you doing with poisonous plants?"

  "Anything is poisonous if you take too much of it. However, this plant has its uses provided only very small amounts are taken."

  Khu grunted and resumed his work, trying hard not to get more of the juice on his hands than he had to. When he had stripped all the berries from the branches, he separated, under Nebhotep's guidance, the ripe berries from the green ones, and put them into a small jar, pouring a small amount of greenish olive oil over them. He threw out the green berries and the leaves before washing his hands thoroughly, scrubbing his hands hard with sand from a dish beside the water tub.

  "Why the scowl, lad?" Nebhotep asked. "Something is troubling you."

  Khu just shook his head, staring into the bowl as he scrubbed his hands.

  "If you don't want to talk about it, that's all right, but my guess is, it's about Scarab."

  Khu sighed and stopped scrubbing, resting his hands on the sides of the tub. "She won't see she is in danger."

  Nebhotep stopped grinding dried herbs and dusted his hands off on a piece of cloth before turning to face the young man. "What danger?" he asked softly.

  Khu shrugged. "Paramessu."

  "How is he a danger?"

  "He's a strong, violent soldier who could do anything to her...kill her even, and she refuses to see the danger, even when I point it out to her."