by Wilbur Smith
It remained only to enlarge this minute aperture to the size sufficient to allow a grown man in full armour and carrying all his weapons to pass through it unhampered. This took almost three days, but finally it was completed and Rameses and I, guided by Nasla, crawled up through it into the fortress of Abu Naskos proper. Here the elder brother, Batur, was waiting to greet us. The two brothers then conducted us on a tour of the lowest portions of the fortress, which were used mostly for storage and were therefore only sparsely inhabited. Batur and Nasla were well known to the few of Utteric’s troops that we met and all of us were conversant with their passwords so we raised no suspicions.
The brothers pointed out to us the passages that led up into the main fortifications of the fortress. We then returned the way we had come. Batur remained behind to conceal the opening to the freshly excavated shaft, using for this purpose a pile of sacks containing dried barley, which fortuitously were stacked in the adjoining rooms of the cellars.
Our next task was to move almost three hundred men from Hurotas’ old camp on the east bank to the four ancient man-made islands where they would be comfortable but from where they could be deployed swiftly into the underwater tunnel that led into the foundations of Utteric’s stronghold.
While this was happening Rameses and I assembled all the officers of rank and lectured them on the layout of the interior of the fortress and its battlements, so that when they led their men through the shaft into the vaults they would have a sense of their exact position within the massive building and be able to find their way to their battle stations. We tried to ensure that attached to each of our military detachments there was at least one man who had seen Utteric previously and would be able to recognize him if and when he saw him again. We were well aware of Utteric’s slippery reputation of using many impostors and doubles to confuse his enemies.
We then rehearsed and drilled our waiting companies on transferring expeditiously from their temporary billets on the four islands to Fox Island, there to descend the shaft into the underwater tunnel to the west bank and finally to make their way through the vaults up into the main body of the fortress, mostly in utter darkness. During this transfer the men were roped together in groups of twelve, each group led by a reliable sergeant who was the only one that carried a lighted torch.
All these preparations went smoothly, but Rameses was left with one seemingly insoluble problem. This was how to persuade Queen Serrena Cleopatra not to join our nocturnal assault under the Nile, but to remain with her father above ground, where she would be relatively safe.
‘You don’t understand, Tata,’ Rameses assured me. ‘If she thinks it is because she is a woman and has to be taken care of by a man then she will just refuse to cooperate.’
‘I do understand, Rameses,’ I corrected his reasoning. ‘I knew your wife’s mother and her grandmother before her. All of them had one thing in common. They give orders glibly but never accept them graciously. You will just have to explain it to her slightly differently. Which is that you need her to assist the senile old man who just happens to be her father to recognize Utteric should they encounter him when they storm the walls of Abu Naskos together. Hurotas has never laid eyes upon him; whereas Serrena probably knows Utteric better than anyone else alive. Even if his face is masked she can recognize him by his hands.’
The next evening Rameses returned to Fox Island from his visit to Hurotas’ camp where he had attended a final briefing by the king himself. Rameses had a flagon of excellent Spartan wine under his cloak and he grinned as he poured me a brimming cup. ‘Drink up, Tata. We must drown our sorrows.’
‘Tragic news?’ I asked.
‘It couldn’t be better.’ And then he clasped his brow. ‘Forgive me for that slip of the tongue; of course I meant couldn’t be worse. My darling wife will not be beside me in the front rank of the coming battle. I will be able to concentrate all my energy on reaching the gates of the fortress and keeping them open until we can march in in force. Serrena will be in her father’s care, guiding him to find Utteric in the turmoil and the fighting. We can be certain that Hurotas will not allow his one and only daughter to get herself into trouble.’
It had been a monumental enterprise made even more difficult by the dual nature of our offensive but finally everything was in place for the assault on Abu Naskos. The royal lovers had spent the previous night together in the old camp on the east bank of the river, but in the dawn they parted. Serrena crossed the Nile to be with her father King Hurotas in the trenches before the fortress, and Rameses joined me in the crowded tunnel beneath the river.
Then as night fell we moved forward and finally took up our positions at the foot of the stairway which led into the basement of the fortress of Abu Naskos. The signal to begin the assault was the rise of the new moon. This was all very well for Hurotas and the others who had a fine view of the nocturnal sky from where they were. However, Rameses and I had at least fifty cubits of rock over our heads. We had to rely on the lookouts on Fox Island to pass the message along the file of men in the tunnel beneath the Nile to where Rameses and I squatted at the head of the line.
The moon message came at last and Rameses and I stood up and began the climb to the top of the ladder where Batur and Nasla waited. The men that followed us were roped together in small gangs to keep them from losing contact with each other in the utter darkness. Only the leader of each gang carried a lighted candle.
Rameses had five of these gangs under his command. His objective was the main gate to the fortress. He and his men had to seize it, throw it open and hold it until Hurotas and Hui could race forward from their trenches at the head of the main force and consolidate the breach.
I had two of these gangs of twelve men under my personal command. I had handpicked these men, which meant that there were none better. Nasla would guide us to the top storey of the fortress where Utteric’s private quarters were situated. It was our main objective to capture him alive so we could be certain we had the right man. But if we encountered the slightest difficulty it was agreed by all that he should be killed out of hand. According to Batur, Utteric had been positively identified entering his quarters only two days previously, and no one had seen him leaving the top level of the fortress since then.
From ground level the fortress stood eight storeys high and each storey was ten cubits tall so the climb we were faced with was about eighty cubits. There were lighted lanterns burning at intervals along the walls of the passageway, but these cast only a feeble light, so I gave the order for every man to light his torch. There was now sufficient light for me to lead them at a run even though the stairs beneath our feet were narrow and steep.
I had carefully considered our choice of arms and had finally restricted it to edged weapons: swords and long knives. Bows and arrows were too cumbersome and difficult to draw and aim in these confined spaces. We climbed the stairway with naked blades in our hands, not to be taken by surprise at the sudden appearance of an adversary. Just as we reached the sixth level of the fortress the silence was broken on the floors below us by a wild cacophony of shouts of anger and outrage, together with screams of pain and the clash of metal on metal.
‘Rameses’ men are engaged!’ Nasla grunted close behind me.
‘Keep going!’ I retorted. ‘He has two hundred men and more to help him reach the gates.’
We turned the next bend in the stairs and ran headlong into a small party of the enemy descending as fast as we were climbing. They had obviously been alerted by the sounds of battle on the lower floors, but had not expected to encounter us so soon. Their sidearms were still in the sheaths. I killed the first one simply by lifting my blade until the point was lined up with his Adam’s apple. When he ran on to it I felt the jar as the point parted his vertebrae, and the warm spurt of his blood over my wrist as his jugular erupted. I let his corpse slide off my blade, and now my point was perfectly aligned with the diaphragm of the man who followed him closely. This one had obviously dressed in hast
e for his breastplate was unbuckled and his chest was partially exposed. My thrust buried my blade to the hilt. When he dropped I had to put my foot on his throat to stop him struggling. Then I twisted my sword to enlarge the wound and allow the blade to come away readily. By this time Nasla and the others had dealt with the remainder of the enemy. I jumped over the bodies and raced on up the stairs. Finally we came out on the top level of the building.
‘Which way now?’ I demanded of Nasla.
‘Straight on! The first door!’ He pointed with his chin. We charged it together and it burst open at our rush. There was the figure of a man at the window across the room. Obviously he had heard us coming. He turned back to confront us. He was dressed in full armour. His breastplate was of polished metal plate which might have been gold. The visor of his helmet was closed and his eyes gleamed through the slits. His sheathed sword hung at his right hip. Only his hands were bare. They were smooth and pale. Free of wrinkles and callouses, like those of a lovely young woman. When I saw them, I knew exactly who he was.
‘Utteric, your time of glory has come. We are here to put your immortality to the test,’ I told him. He reached for the hilt of his sword and took a step towards us, but at that moment our men came pouring through the doorway behind us. Utteric hesitated no longer. He whirled away and placed one hand on the windowsill. Then he leaped high, threw his booted feet over the sill and dropped from our sight.
I felt a moment of seething anger, mixed with bitter disappointment at being cheated of my revenge yet again. I heard myself snarl like a predator deprived of its prey. This was the top floor of the castle. Neither man nor beast could survive a fall of that height. I raced across the room to the window and leaned far out, staring down in trepidation, dreading to see Utteric’s corpse sprawled in death on the earth far below.
However, the scene that met my gaze was far different to that which I had imagined. It was almost as brightly lit as daylight. Hundreds, nay, thousands of burning torches surrounded the walls as the mighty army of Hurotas surged forward towards the castle gates. These stood wide open where Rameses and his men had done their duty. If Utteric’s broken body lay among them it was lost from my sight in the masses and the pandemonium.
In desperation I thrust the upper half of my body perilously further out through the window frame. Now that the field of my vision was extended I saw that no more than two storeys directly beneath me was a narrow terrace on which sprawled the armoured body of the man with the feminine hands. As I watched he pushed himself into a sitting position and looked up at me through the eye slits in his helmet.
‘I see you, Utteric,’ I called down to him. ‘And I am coming for you.’ At which he scrambled to his feet and looked around wildly, obviously seeking an escape route. I saw from the way he moved that he had damaged one of his legs in the fall. I jumped up on to the windowsill, paused there for an instant and then I sprang out over him. I had hoped to land on top of him and knock him down again for all time. However, he was quicker than I had anticipated. He managed to dodge aside, and I hit the spot on which he had been standing. I landed awkwardly and the sword I had been clutching spun from my grip and clattered on the slabs just beyond my reach.
On my hands and knees I went for it, but from the corner of my eye I saw that Utteric had cleared his own sword from its scabbard and was hobbling grimly after me. I threw myself forward and just managed to reach my weapon. As my hand closed over the hilt I rolled swiftly. By this time Utteric was standing over me with legs spread wide and his own sword held in both hands above his head, poised to stab down into my chest.
Traditionally all of us Egyptians have an aperture in the crotch of our armour between the thighs which the armourers have conveniently allowed for us to piss through. Lying on my back I could see that Utteric was no exception. I aimed a kick with my armoured heel into this unprotected area, and felt it land solidly.
Utteric had just begun to stab down at my chest; my kick landed while he was committed and unable to avoid it. The sudden excruciating pain threw him completely off balance and destroyed his aim. He missed my heart area with the point of his sword but drove it into the joint of my left shoulder. Then he staggered away, clutching his injured genitalia in one hand and screaming like a baby. But in a reflexive reaction he had pulled the blade of his sword out of my wound and was waving it in his other hand.
I sat up and fumbled around until I recovered my sword; then I pushed myself to my feet and turned to face Utteric. The terrace was narrow and I was standing between him and the door to the interior of the fortress. He darted a quick look over the balcony but it was a very long way down. I saw him steel himself and then turn to face me with one hand still held between his legs, nursing his crotch, and the other hefting his sword. He knew he had to fight me, and he knew it was to the death.
I had recovered swiftly from the trauma of my fall and my sword felt lithe and light in my right hand. I went after Utteric with a series of interlinked thrusts leading with my right foot and keeping him turning into his damaged leg, which he was favouring. I listened to his breathing and heard it becoming laboured and hoarse. It was not only from the pain of his injury but he was also out of condition.
I remembered the relish he had displayed when he gave Minister Irus such a painful and lingering death in the amphitheatre of Luxor by lopping off both his arms and then dragging him behind his chariot until his brains were dashed out on the hard earth. I considered dealing out the same kind of brutal death to Utteric now, but then my essential humanity reasserted itself.
Abruptly I switched my angle of attack, forcing him to turn into my sword hand. He stumbled slightly as he made the change and he dropped his guard fractionally as I knew he must. My riposte was like a stroke of lightning, so fast that it cheated the eye. I drove my point into the front of his chest, through his heart and half an arm’s length out through his spine. He let his sword drop from his hand and his legs collapsed under him, but I held him upright dangling on my blade with his feet dancing lightly under him, barely brushing the floor of the terrace as he died. When this happened I lowered the angle of my blade and let him slide off it and lie in a heap at my feet.
Then I stooped over him, reached down and opened the visor of his helmet. I should have known it would not be that easy. Utteric’s face had haunted my dreams for a long time. And I knew then that it would continue to do so, for I was looking now into the face of a total stranger. Only the hands were still those of Utteric. This was just another of Utteric’s sleights of hand. I shook my head and grimaced at the weakness of my own pun. Then I straightened up and listened to the night around me. It was filled with sounds of mortal conflict: the shouting of belligerent war cries and the screams of the wounded; the clash of edged weapons on helm and breastplate; the whining of the wounded and the whimpering of the dying.
Then the door on to the terrace behind me crashed open on its hinges and this was followed immediately by the rush of booted feet and the cries of approbation from my men who had followed the staircase down from the top floor of the fortress.
‘Well done, Taita. You killed the treacherous bastard.’ That was Nasla and he was pounding my back.
‘Yes, I got another one of them,’ I conceded. ‘But only Hathor and Tanus know which one this is. Nevertheless we will take his armour. It seems to be authentic and will be worth good gold. Then let us go down and try again to find the one true and veritable Utteric.’
We left the half-naked corpse of the stranger lying on the terrace and I led the way down the staircase and into the pandemonium of battle.
This was exacerbated by the virtual impossibility of telling the difference between friend and foe. We all wore the same uniforms and spoke the same language with the same accents. Even more confusing was the darkness and the lack of illumination in the passageways and even the courtyards and halls of the fortress. Faces were almost impossible to recognize at any distance. Both sides in the conflict were driven to calling out the name of
their leader as they ran into each other and before they made the final decision to give battle or embrace each other.
However, the gates of the fortress remained firmly in the control of Hurotas’ troops. I and my men fought our way down to this level through the chaos and we found King Hurotas was there with his daughter Serrena and her husband, Rameses, the stalwarts who had been responsible for the capture of the gates. He and his men had cranked the portcullis open on both gates and jammed the mechanism so that the enemy could not close them off again. Hurotas’ regiments were marching in through them in close order and although we were uncertain of the precise numbers of Utteric’s men we had to be at the point of outnumbering them. The cries of ‘Hurotas’ began to overwhelm those of ‘Utteric’. I knew that this meant many of Utteric’s men were changing sides. I was beginning to feel that victory was finally within our grasp here in Abu Naskos and my thoughts started to turn to Luxor and the tenuous hold that Weneg and his men had on that city.
Abruptly there was a sharp change in the sounds of battle. The cheers of triumph changed to a hubbub of alarm and consternation. The ordered ranks of our troops marching in through the gates suddenly scattered in panic, leaving the gateway clear. As they ran they were looking back over their shoulders. Then suddenly I heard the unmistakable sound of moving chariots: the clatter of the hooves of the teams drawing them and the grinding of the metal rims of the wheels on the paved stone surface; the cracking of the whips and the shouts of the charioteers at the reins. The thing that puzzled me was that all this uproar issued from the open gates of the fortress and not from the direction of the river. Only then did I recall that both Batur and Nasla had mentioned to me that Utteric had retained about half a troop of chariots in the fortress when he sent the bulk of his cavalry away to his forts in the delta to evade capture by Hurotas and his petty kings.
No sooner had I thought this than a squadron of chariots came charging down the alleyway towards the open gates of the fortress. The drivers were whipping their horses mercilessly. The charioteers were loosing the arrows from their bows indiscriminately into the crowds of our men who were struggling to get out of their way. All the chariot crews were suited in full armour. Every one of their heads was covered by helms and face-plates so it was not possible to tell one from the other. A few of Hurotas’ men were too slow to get out of their way and they were knocked down and trampled by the horses and then run under and ground to bloody tatters by the bronze-covered chariot wheels. I was caught up in the struggling mass and trapped against the wall of the alleyway. But I was at least able to see over the heads of the crowd and I was in a position to count the escaping chariots as they drew level with where I stood.
