The Amarnan Kings, Book 2: Scarab - Smenkhkare

by Overton, Max

  Negotiating the third cataract where the river plunged over a shelf of rock, falling some three man-heights into the foaming pool beneath took most of the next day and the loss of three rafts with their men as ropes snapped, sweeping them into the maelstrom before anyone could even think of help. The river below the fall ran rapidly with vicious stretches of turbulence that required the use of ropes to winch the rafts down past the worst parts. The days passed rapidly and Horemheb chafed at the delay.

  "Ten days you said, Penno. It has been twelve since we left the clearing at Kurgus."

  "Ten days on the river," Penno reminded his general. "It will be ten days tomorrow and we have passed the temple of Amara. We have made good time."

  "And lost over a hundred men," Horemheb snarled. "We would not have lost them going overland."

  For Horemheb's peace of mind and Penno's health, it was as well that they swept past the inscription rocks at Tanjur the following morning, spotting the anchored barges in the small inlet that marked the base of the Tanjur valley less than an hour later. The men on the rafts, soaked and hungry, let out a bellow of exultation that brought the sailors on the barges running from their camp on the shore.

  Horemheb allowed his troops just long enough ashore for a hot meal prepared from the stores on board the barges before heading down-river once more. "They can rest as we travel. I will not lose more time than I have to."

  Not content with allowing the current to do its work, the sailors were pressed into rowing, sending the wallowing craft careening through the water. When darkness fell that night Horemheb had oil lanterns lit at the front and rear of each barge and a new constellation of stars moved through the dark Nubian night. Two boats went aground in the night, not being able to see the gravelbanks and sharp rocks beneath the surface and another found itself swept sideways after negotiating a difficult section of rapids. Hitting a sunken rock amidships, the barge tilted then capsized and sank, throwing fifty men into the dark waters. Horemheb cursed, but pushed his fleet on, refusing to delay by any rescue attempt.

  Penno persuaded his general to beach his craft before they reached the second cataract however. They waited until the dawn light grew strong enough to illuminate the rushing roaring current that boiled through the narrow gorge. To the horror of the seasoned sailors, Horemheb announced that he would not waste a day letting the barges through slowly, each vessel anchored by straining men on the ends of thick ropes. The soldiers would not march around as they had on the voyage up-river--instead, everyone would ride the rapids together.

  Nineteen barges entered the cataract but only sixteen came out into the wide pool at the base. The other three split apart as the force of the water drove them against the sides of the gorge, shattering on the monstrous rocks of the channel. Wreckage and bodies were left to the river and by afternoon the remnants of the Amun legion and Penno's garrison arrived at the docks of Sehotep-Neteru.

  The town crowded the docks and nearby streets, jostling and yelling, demanding news of the expedition and soon the wails of bereaved women drowned out the crowds. The Viceroy Huy arrived in a sedan chair, his staff bustling around him, and he greeted Horemheb and Penno on the docks.

  "He is defeated?" Huy asked anxiously. "For days we have seen bodies in the river and knew there had been a great battle."

  Horemheb ignored the Viceroy and turned to Penno. "You see, I was right. He is heading for Waset."

  "General, you will speak to me, not my officers."

  Horemheb glanced at Huy to see the Viceroy's face darkening in anger and he realized he had become so caught up in his plans he was in danger of alienating the one man who could help him save Kemet. He dropped to his knees and prostrated himself, arms extended forward.

  "Forgive me, O great one of the divine Nebkheperure, I meant no disrespect. I have been pursuing the rebels down river for ten days, gripped by a fear that they would attack Sehotep-Neteru and put your life in danger."

  Viceroy Huy contemplated the back of Horemheb's head for several long moments, a contented smile on his lips. "You may arise," he said graciously. "Now, what were you saying about Waset?"

  Horemheb arose and dusted off his knees. "The rebel army evaded us and moved north. I have reason to believe they mean to attack Waset."

  "Is your mind addled, General?" deputy viceroy Amenemipet sneered. "Too much hot sun perhaps? What would a bandit want with a city? Robbing farms and waylaying caravans is more his style."

  Horemheb's eyes flicked over the deputy before returning to Huy. "Let your guard clear the dock, Viceroy. I have news that would rock the city if it became common knowledge."

  "You intrigue me." Huy gave the orders and very quickly the dock area was cleared of townsfolk. The party of officials moved to one side of the dock, allowing the disembarking soldiers and sailors to move past and up the road to the garrison fortress. "Very well, what is this so important news?"

  "The Son of Sobek is king Smenkhkare."

  The Viceroy and the priests gaped. Huy the Lesser, the mayor of Sehotep-Neteru guffawed and Amenemipet the deputy viceroy smiled coldly. "You have gone mad."

  "Not madness. I saw him and spoke to him."

  "You spoke to him but did not at least capture him that we all might see this...this king of yours," Amenemipet asked.

  "He overwhelmed the patrol I was leading and captured me, killing my men."

  "You gave up so easily? I do not see a mark on you."

  Horemheb ground his teeth then winced as a small chunk snapped off a lower tooth, a sharp stab of pain lancing into his jaw. "He captured me, I talked with him. He is Smenkhkare. Whatever you might believe, the king survived the crocodile--that is why he is called Son of Sobek--and on the basis of that talk I believe he is determined to win back his throne."

  "How?" Huy asked. "I cannot believe he would attack the garrison at Waset with his bandits and renegades."

  "My lord, the garrison of Waset is here with me. The city is essentially defenceless."

  "Then what will you do?" Mermose, second prophet of Amun in Wawat, pushed to the front and confronted Horemheb. "The king is in Waset. You cannot leave him to the mercy of...of..."

  "Of his brother," Horemheb finished. "I don't know what will happen to our king Nebkheperure if Smenkhkare wins but I fear bloodshed and chaos will spread throughout our Kemet."

  "Then you must make sure he does not win, General Horemheb."

  "Then I will need your help, Viceroy."

  "You have it." Huy nodded. "King Nebkheperure can count on my loyalty. Tell my deputy what you need," he went on, waving his hand nonchalantly at Amenemipet. "Whatever you need, he will find for you." The viceroy turned and got back into his sedan chair, signaling the slaves to take him back to the palace. A squad of guards ran ahead and beside of the sedan, clearing the inquisitive crowd away, and the mayor and priests trotted along behind, preferring the refined company of the Viceroy to that of the coarse soldiers.

  Amenemipet regarded Horemheb coldly. "What is it you need?" he rasped.

  Horemheb thought for a moment. "I need my barges provisioned. I intend to leave this afternoon, but I need food and beer for two thousand men for a month, arms too, we lost a lot..."

  "That is impossible," Amenemipet interrupted. "The stores do not contain food for even five hundred for a month."

  "Then I suggest you find it elsewhere...or perhaps your loyalty is not as certain as your viceroy? Must I inform him of your unwillingness to help your king?"

  "Curse you," the deputy spat. "You shall have it." He spun on his heel and started away.

  "I have not finished, Amenemipet," Horemheb snapped. "Swords, pikes, bows with extra bowstrings, all the arrows you can find, rope, acacia gum, sharpening stones...use your imagination. Put yourself in the king's place; what would you want the relieving army to have?" He paused for the space of two breaths. "What are you waiting for? Praise? You haven't done anything yet."

  Amenemipet flushed and a snarl of anger broke through his lips. "
I will not forget this, Horemheb." Wheeling away, he strode down the dock, yelling at his officers as they ran to his side.

  Horemheb grinned at Penno. "That felt good."

  Penno smiled in return. "It was good to see, sir, but you have made a bad enemy. He did not rise to be deputy viceroy without having powerful friends."

  "And no doubt he has made many enemies too. Forget him; we have more important things to do."

  The two men went up to the palace, availing themselves of the same room. After they had refreshed themselves with a good soak in the baths and put on fresh clothes, Penno sent for several of his officers and arranged for food and drink to be brought for all of them. Horemheb poured himself a long drink of sour beer and rose to his feet.

  "You will forgive me if I do not ask your names or exchange pleasantries with you. All I need to know is that you are loyal officers of the king. Penno has assured me of your worth so I will accept it as fact. First, who knows the rivermen best? The sailors of the city?"

  An officer raised his hand tentatively. "My brother is a fisherman, sir."

  "Does he know the river between here and Waset, or just locally?"

  The officer's face fell. "Just locally, sir."

  "Never mind, he will know others with greater knowledge. Contact your brother and find me a dozen men who know the river north of here like the tits on their wives. Have them here within the hour." The officer saluted and left the room. Horemheb took a long drink of beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his free hand. He belched loud and long before turning back to the others.

  "I intend to strip the city of its fighting men. I have nine hundred of the Amun legion and two hundred of the garrison. I want another thousand men."

  "I'm sorry sir, we just don't have them," Penno said. "I could find you another two or three hundred perhaps, but you'd leave the city defenceless."

  "I'll take your three hundred, Penno. Let the Medjay protect the city. Where else are there soldiers? Fighting men? Men?"

  "How about the city?" asked a young officer, "The townsfolk..."

  "...Would not know one end of a spear from the other," laughed another.

  "They can learn." Horemheb pointed at the young officer. "Yours is the idea, yours the duty. Find me a hundred fit men. Promise them half a deben of gold when we get to Waset. Off you go, I want them at the docks in two hours time." Filling his mug with beer again he looked at the others. "Six hundred to go. Ideas?"

  "The mines?" hazarded one.

  "Too far," Penno said. "We leave this afternoon and even the nearest mines are three days away."

  "What about the forts? Buhen and Migassa, even Serra and Askut on the far bank," another countered.

  "Buhen maybe and Serra across the river," Penno said slowly. "They are close enough. Twenty men apiece."

  "There are forts downriver. If we sent a courier ahead, they could have men ready to be picked up as the fleet got to them."

  "How many forts are we talking about?" Horemheb asked.

  "Aniba, Ikkur and Kubban. The last two are larger, being on the gold caravan trail." Penno quickly calculated. "A hundred and fifty?"

  "We are still four hundred short, gentlemen. Where do we get them?"

  There was a long silence before Penno stirred. "There is only one place, general, but we could never get them here in time. The forts of the second cataract. I could find you at least two hundred more there, but it will take five days to get them."

  Horemheb nodded. "Get them. Penno, I am leaving you in charge in Sehotep-Neteru. You will go to the forts and get me my men. I will leave you two barges. Fill them, pack them in and send them down after me. You," he pointed at one of the officers. "You are responsible for sending couriers to the lower forts, and you," an older man, "to the nearby forts." Draining his mug, he grabbed a cold duck and ripped a leg off, filling his mouth with the fatty dark meat. He swallowed and waved the chewed leg at the men in the room. "You have your orders, gentlemen."

  Penno approached his general after the officers left, picking at a loaf of bread. "I'd rather come with you, sir. I can detail an officer to cover the upper forts."

  "No, I want you. You'll do it properly. You won't accept excuses. Besides, I need someone dependable up here in Wawat if things go wrong."

  Penno nodded. "What do you want rivermen for?"

  "Somewhere ahead of us is the rebel army. Going overland probably, but Abu has barges. If they take the barges they can be in Waset long before us. I will send messengers down to warn the governors of Abu, Djeba and Nekhen. If they can mobilize their garrisons we may delay or even halt the rebels. Another messenger will take the news to Ay in Waset, and another will go north, all the way to Zarw. If the worst befalls Kemet and Waset is taken, maybe even the king falls in death; I want the northern army ready to come to my aid. They cannot get to Waset until months have passed, but if I cannot stop Smenkhkare now, I will defeat him later."

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  Chapter Thirty-Two

  To a casual observer, the Hall of Justice in the Western palace of Waset reflected the care and attention any king of the Two Kingdoms should give to the welfare of his subjects. By ancient custom, the king presided over the law courts, listening to petitions brought by high-born and low-born, hearing arguments brought by plaintiffs and defendants, and dispensing justice equitably and without favour. For generations, the ancestors of Nebkheperure Tutankhaten had ably administered the daily affairs of the land. Even the king's brother up in Akhet-Aten gave of himself that his people might lead happier lives. And to this casual observer, the young king sitting on the great golden throne in the Hall of Justice was continuing this noble tradition.

  The king, however, was bored. He did not enjoy these sessions that took place every morning and would gladly have dispensed with them, preferring more exciting pastimes like hunting, or playing with his carved wooden soldiers, or even the new-found pleasures of his young queen Ankhesenpaaten. The reason he did not run off and play was his uncle Ay. He feared his uncle, and while he did not think actual harm would follow from disobedience, he knew from bitter experience that Ay had many ways of imposing his will. The first time he had tried to assert his independence had been a scant two months after his coronation. He decided one morning to go duck hunting with his Nubian friends Hiknefer and Khai and blithely informed Ay of his decision as they left the palace. The Tjaty bowed and let them go. The next morning they played in the gardens and Ay again said nothing. The following morning it was fishing. And so it went on for ten days until the afternoon when the young king summoned his entourage to view the progress at the new additions to the temple of Amun on the east bank.

  "I regret to say, your majesty, that there has been no work on the temple." Ay bowed low then stood back, watching his king with a small smile creasing his eyes.

  "Why not?" Tutankhaten demanded.

  "There is a dispute that has brought work to a halt. It seems that the priests of Djehuti claim ownership of the land adjoining the Amun temple where your majesty's new building was to be erected."

  The king frowned, trying to work out exactly what this meant. "So who does own the land?"

  "That is the issue, your majesty."

  "Cannot the courts do something? They can listen to both sides and make a ruling."

  "Your majesty has a good grasp of the workings of the law." Ay bowed again. "However, may I suggest that your majesty is overlooking one point?"

  "What?" Tutankhaten asked sulkily.

  "The courts cannot function without the presence of the king." Ay stood as if in thought for a few seconds. "I believe the dispute was to have been heard on the morning you went duck hunting, your majesty."

  The young king flushed and looked down at the tiles. After a few minutes he started scuffing his sandal against the floor. "It's boring. I don't like sitting there all morning."

  "I remember your father, the great Nebmaetre, also did not enjoy sitting in the Hall of Justice day
after day, listening to petitions. Yet he did it. Do you know why Nebkheperure?"

  Tutankhaten grimaced and shook his head reluctantly, not looking up.

  "He did it because he loved his people and he knew that just as the gods had granted him great glory, so too must he honour the people in his charge. It was his duty to represent the people before the gods, to bring them justice. He did this every day of his life unless he was too sick to stand." Ay dismissed the palace servants and put his hand on Tutankhaten's shoulder. "Nebmaetre was a great king, one of the best these Two Lands have seen. Do you want to be a great king too?"

  "Yes," Tutankhaten whispered. "I want to be the best."

  "Then do your duty. We shall sit in court this afternoon and hear petitions instead of inspecting temples." Ay's voice grew harsher. "Then tomorrow morning, and every morning, you will preside over the courts. Do you agree?"

  "Yes, Divine Father."

  Somehow, Tutankhaten never got to hear the supposed dispute between the priests of Djehuti and those of Amun. When he visited the temple expansion a month later, the work was on schedule and there was no sign of discord. When asked, Ay merely said they had come to an agreement, and smiled. Since then, Tutankhaten had sat in court every morning, doing his duty as a king.

  The droning voices of the court officials faded out and Tutankhaten looked up with a start. His feet, swinging beneath the seat of the throne, stilled, and he saw the ring of faces around him regard him questioningly. He racked his memory for the last thing said but came up blank. Looking round, he saw the familiar lined visage of Ay and sagged with relief, calling him over with a curved finger.

  "What do I say, uncle?"