The royal family was sitting beneath a large sunshade in the courtyard of the governor's palace. The ten years that had passed had wrought their changes. Seriousness of purpose, sternness of outlook, and sorrow had all left traces that time would never erase. Those most affected by the passing of time were the two queens, Tetisheri and Ahotep. The sacred mother's physique was less supple, her body tending to stoop a little, and her travails had engraved their lines on her radiant brow. All that was left of the old Tetisheri was the gleam in her eyes, and her looks evincing wisdom and patience. As for Ahotep, white hair had brought venerability to her head and sorrow and anxiety had left their mark on her comely face.
Beholding their sovereign, the people prostrated themselves to him. Then Ahmose went up to his father, kissed the hands of his mother Queen Setkimus, of his grandmother Ahotep, and of Tetisheri, and kissed the brow of his wife, Princess Nefertari. Next he addressed himself to the king, saying, “My lord, Amun has granted success to our work. I present to Your Majesty the first battalions of the Army of Deliverance.”
Pleasure lit up the king's face and he arose and raised his scepter in salute to his people, who cheered him long. Then they approached him and kissed his hand one by one. Kamose said, “The Lord grant you life, you good, courageous men whom injustice first separated from us, then fated to suffer humiliation, just as we were fated to taste the bitterness of exile for ten long years! But I see that you are men who reject inequity and prefer the hardships of separation from their loved ones and the difficulties of the struggle to the acceptance of security in the shadow of ignominy. Such have I always known you to be, as did my father before me. You have come to rally to my cause, when it is in tatters, or nearly so, and to strengthen my heart, when it has been shaken by Fate's indifference. It was one of the Lord Amun's mercies to us that He came to the purest of us in heart and the greatest of us in hope, Mother Tetisheri, in a dream, and ordered her to send my son Ahmose to the land of our fathers and grandfathers to bring back soldiers who would deliver Egypt from her enemy and her humiliation. Welcome, soldiers of Egypt, soldiers of Kamose! Tomorrow others will come, so let us adopt an attitude of patience, and set to work. Let our slogan be ‘the Struggle,’ our hope, Egypt, and our faith, Amun!”
As one man, all cried out, “The Struggle, Egypt, and Amun!” Then Tetisheri arose and advanced a few steps, leaning on her royal staff, and said to the men in a strong, clear voice, “Sons of sad, glorious Thebes, accept the greetings of your old mother and allow me to present you with a gift that I made with my own hands for you, that you may all labor in its shadow.”
She made a sign with her staff to one of the soldiers, who approached the men and presented to them a large flag that bore the image of the temple of Amun, surrounded by the wall of Thebes with its hundred gates. Eager hands seized it and the men uttered ardent prayers for their Mother and cheered for her and for glorious Thebes. Tetisheri smiled and a joyful light illumined her face. She said, “Dear sons, let me tell you that I have never given in to that despair against which Seqenenra, on the day of his farewell, warned us and have never ceased to pray to the Lord that He extend my fated term so that I might see Thebes again, with our flags fluttering above its palace and Kamose sitting on its throne as Pharaoh of Upper and Lower Egypt. Today I am closer to my hope, now that your youthful hands are joined to mine.”
The people's plaudits rose again and the king started asking about the great men of Egypt, the priest of Amun, and the Lord's temple, while the chamberlain answered him as best he could. Then Prince Ahmose led Ahmose Ebana, son of Commander Pepi, to his father. The king welcomed him and told him, “I hope that you will be to me as your father was to mine — a valiant commander, who lived for his duty and died in doing it.”
Then the king invited the new arrivals to a midday banquet and they ate and drank in health and good cheer. Afterward, all started to think of the morrow and what lay after that, and Napata slept for the first time in ten years in joy and optimism, its heart filled — with hope.
AHMOSE AT WAR
1
The life of the royal family in exile had been one not of listlessness and inactivity but of work and preparation for the distant future, — with the heart of Tetisheri, — which knew neither despair nor rest, as the point around — which all of them revolved. As soon as she arrived, she had asked of Ra'um, governor of the south, to summon to Napata the most skilled Nubian craftsmen and Egyptian technicians residing in Nubia and the man had sent his messengers to Argo and Atlal and other Nubian towns, and these had returned to him with craftsmen and workers. The old queen demanded that her son contract them to make weapons, helmets, and the accoutrements of war and to build ships and war chariots. To encourage him she told him, “You will decide one day to attack the enemy who has usurped your throne and taken possession of your country. When that day comes, you must attack with a large fleet and a force of chariots that cannot be overcome, as the enemy did with your father.”
Over the past ten years, Napata had been turned into a great factory for the building of ships, chariots, and instruments of war in all their forms. As the days passed, the fruits of these labors grew, becoming the pillars of new hope. When the men came with the first convoy, they found the weapons and materiel that they needed present in full supply and they presented themselves for training with hearts full of enthusiasm and honest optimism. The day after their arrival in Napata they were all inducted into the army and trained under the supervision of officers of the Egyptian garrison in the arts of combat and the use of a variety of weapons. They drove themselves hard during the training, working from dawn to dusk.
Everyone worked, the mighty and the lowly alike. King Kamose personally supervised the training of the troops and the formation of the nuclei of the different battalions and picked out those most suited to serve — with the fleet, Crown Prince Ahmose assisting him in this. The three queens and the young princess insisted on going to — work — with everybody else. They straightened and fledged arrows or worked at sewing military clothing and they mixed constantly with the soldiers and craftsmen, eating and drinking with them to encourage them and strengthen their hearts. How wonderful it was to see Mother Tetisheri bent over her work with a dedication that knew no fatigue or moving among the troops to observe their training and offer words of enthusiasm and hope! Seeing her, the men would forget themselves and tremble with excitement and dedication and the woman would smile in delight at these auspicious signs and say to those around her, “The ships and the chariots will become the graves of those who ride in them if they are not propelled by hearts yet harder than the iron of which they are made. See how the men of Thebes work! Any one of them would fall on ten of the Herdsmen, with their filthy beards and white skin, and put their hearts to rout.”
And indeed, the men had been turned, by the force of their excitement, their love, and their hate, into ravening beasts.
Chamberlain Hur now departed to prepare the second convoy, doubling the number of ships and filling them with gold and silver, pygmies and exotic animals. Mother Tetisheri was of the opinion that he should take with him companies of loyal Nubians to present to the gentry of Thebes, to work for them overtly as slaves, while covertly they would be their helpers, ready to attack the enemy from behind if the enemy one day were to become involved in a clash with them. The king was delighted with the idea, as was Chamberlain Hur, who worked unhesitatingly to bring it about.
Once Hur had completed the preparations for his convoy, he sought permission to set off. Prince Ahmose had been waiting for this moment with a heart wrung by longing and preoccupied with passion. He asked that he be allowed to make the voyage as leader of the convoy but the king, who had found out about what had befallen him and the dangers to which he had been exposed, refused to take the needless risk of letting him travel again. He told him, “Prince, your duty now calls you to stay in Napata.”
His father's words took the prince by surprise, dashing the burning hope i
n his breast like water dashed on fiery coals. Candidly he pleaded — with him, “Seeing Egypt and mixing — with its people would bring relief to my heart from certain maladies that afflict it.”
The king said, “You will find complete relief the day you enter it as a — warrior at the head of the Army of Deliverance.”
Once more the youth pleaded his case, “Father, how often I have dreamed of seeing Thebes again soon!”
But the king said resolutely, “You will not have to wait long. Be patient until the day of struggle dawns!”
The youth realized from the king's tone that he had spoken his final word and feared his anger were he to plead with him again, so he bowed his head in a sign of submission and acceptance even though the pain pierced his heart and choked his breathing. His days passed in hard work and he had only a short time to himself before sleeping in which to summon up, in his private chamber, the sweetest of memories, and to hover in imagination about the beautiful cabin on the deck of the royal ship that had witnessed, at the moment of farewell, the most blinding loveliness and tenderest passion. During such moments it would seem to him that he heard that melodious voice telling him, “Till we meet again!” — at which he would sigh from the depths of his soul and say sorrowfully, “When will that meeting be? That was a farewell that no reunion can follow.”
Napata in those days, however, was a fit place to make a man forget himself and his cares and focus his attention on whatever was most important and urgent. The men gave their all to their work, struggling unceasingly, and if the wind of Thebes sprang up and longing for those whom they had left behind its walls shook them, they sighed awhile then bent again to what they were at with increased determination and greater resolve. Days passed in which they could not believe that there was anything in the world but work, or anything in the future but hope.
The convoy returned with new men, who cheered as the first had cheered the day of their arrival and who shouted with the same excitement, “Where is our sovereign, Kamose? Where is our mother, Tetisheri? Where is our prince, Ahmose?” then joined the camp, to work and be trained.
Chamberlain Hur came to Prince Ahmose and greeted him. He handed him a letter, saying, “I have been charged with bearing this letter to Your Highness.”
Ahmose asked in astonishment as he turned the letter over in his hands, “Who is the sender?”
Hur, however, maintained a gloomy silence and an idea struck the prince that made his heart flutter, and he tore open the letter and read the signature. His limbs gave way and the fire in his heart flared up as his eyes ran over the lines, where he read:
It saddens me to inform you that I chose one of your pygmies to live with me in my private quarters and that I took care of him, feeding him the most delicious foods, dressing him in the most beautiful clothes, and giving him the best treatment, so that he became fond of me and I of him. Then I noticed his absence one day and I could not find him, so I ordered my slave girls to look for him and they found that he had fled to his brothers in the garden. His inconstancy pained me and I turned my face from him. Is it possible for you to send me a new pygmy, one who knows how to be true? Amenridis
As he finished reading the letter, Ahmose felt a blow like the thrust of a heavy spear into his heart and the ground seemed to shake beneath his feet. He shot a glance at Hur, who was regarding him closely as though trying to discover what was in the letter by reading his face.
Turning away from him, Ahmose continued on his way sorrowing and brokenhearted, telling himself how impossible it was that she would ever know what it was that had prevented him from coming back to her and how impossible it was that he would ever be able to communicate to her his grief and emotion. She would, indeed, always see him as the inconstant pygmy.
He kept his sorrows to himself, however, and none were aware of the struggle raging in his heart but the person closest to him: Nefertari. She was at a loss as to what to do — with him and perplexed as to what might lie behind his distractedness and absent-mindedness and at the look of sorrow that would appear in his lovely eyes whenever he stared ahead, looking at nothing.
One evening she said to him, “You are not yourself, Ahmose.”
Her remark disturbed him and, playing with her plaits with his fingertips, he said smiling, “It's just fatigue, my dear. Don't you see how we are engaged in a struggle fit to move solid mountains?”
She shook her head and said nothing and the youth put himself more on his guard.
Napata, however, allowed no man to drown in his sorrows, for work is the destroyer of care and the city witnessed miracles of work such as it had never seen before. Men were trained, ships, chariots, and weapons made, and convoys dispatched loaded with gold, to return loaded with men, only to be sent back and return once more. Long days and months passed until the happy, long-awaited day arrived and King Kamose, unable to contain his joy, went to his grandmother Tetisheri, kissed her brow, and said in joyful tones: “Good news, Grandmother! The Army of Deliverance is ready!”
2
The send-off drums sounded, the army formed itself into battalions, and the fleet raised anchor. Tetisheri summoned to her the king, the crown prince, and the leading commanders and officers and told them, “This is one of those happy days for which I have waited long. Tell your valiant soldiers that Tetisheri entreats them to set her free from her captivity and smash the shackles that bind the necks of all Egypt. Let the motto of every one of you be to ‘Live like Amenhotep or die like Seqenenra.’ The Lord Amun bless you and make your hearts steadfast!”
The men kissed her thin hand and King Kamose said to her as he bade her farewell, “The motto of all of us shall be ‘Live like Amenhotep or die like Seqenenra!’ and those of us — who die will die the noblest of deaths, — while those of us — who remain — will live the most honorable of lives.”
Napata, the royal family, and Governor Raum at its head, turned out to bid farewell to the tumultuous army. Drums beat, bands played, and the army moved, following its traditional order of march and preceded by a force of scouts bearing flags. King Kamose was in the vanguard of the army in the center of a ring of servants, chamberlains, and commanders, followed by the royal guard in elegant chariots. Next came a battalion of chariots, which proceeded rank after rank, further than the eye could see, their wheels sending a deafening squeal into the air, the neighing of their horses like the shrilling of the wind. After these came a battalion of heavy archers with their bows, coats of mail, and quivers of arrows, followed in their footsteps by a battalion of highly trained lancers with their lances and shields. Next was a battalion of light infantry, while the wagons of weapons, supplies, and tents, guarded by horsemen, brought up the rear. At the same time, the fleet, with its huge vessels, set sail, the soldiers that it bore equipped with all the weaponry they might need by way of bows, lances, and swords.
These forces advanced to the music of the band, excitement burning in their youthful, angry hearts, the terrifying sight throwing dread into hearts and minds. They marched all day, eating up the miles, and came to a halt when darkness fell, neither tired nor wearied, seeking help against the hardships of the road and the length of the journey from a resolve that could move mountains. On their way they passed by Semna, Buhen, Ibsakhlis, Fatatzis, and Nafis and they continued to march until they reached Dabod, the last Nubian town. Here the scented breeze of Egypt caressed their faces and they camped and set up their tents to take rest from the privations of the journey and prepare themselves for battle.
The king and his men plotted the first plan of invasion and they plotted it well. Ahmose Ebana, the most skilled man in the whole fleet, was given command of a part of it to take up to the borders of Egypt as though it were a convoy of the sort which the border guards had become accustomed to see pass in recent times. At dawn on the fourth day after the army's arrival at Dabod, the small fleet set sail, reaching Egypt's borders as day was breaking. Ahmose Ebana stood on the deck of the ship in the flowing robes of a trader. He pro
duced the entry permit for the guards and took his fleet safely in. Ahmose knew that the border guard consisted of a few ships and a small garrison, so his plan consisted of taking the ships unawares and overpowering them, then laying siege to the island of Biga until the army and the rest of the fleet could enter Egypt. Thereafter it would be easy for him to strike Sayin before it could prepare itself to resist. The convoy proceeded in open formation and when it drew close to the southern shore of Biga, where the Herdsmen's ships were moored, the soldiers appeared on deck with bows in their hands, while Ahmose, throwing off his trader's cloak, appeared in the dress of an officer and ordered his men to fire their arrows at the men guarding the ships. The fleet approached the moored ships rapidly, swooped down upon them before help could reach them from the shore, and cast nets over them, while the soldiers jumped onto their decks to take possession of them. They clashed with the few guards who were to be found on board in a small battle and crushed them swiftly. During this maneuver, Ahmose's ship fired its arrows at the guards on the bank and prevented the soldiers from coming to the aid of their companions on the ships. Thus, the vessels were quickly subdued without high cost to the attackers and the fleet laid siege to the island to prevent contact with the cities of the north. The Biga garrison took note of the sudden maneuver and rushed to the shore, only to find itself surrounded and imprisoned, its small fleet captive.
The battle was barely over before units of the Egyptian fleet appeared, plowing through the billows on the horizon, its course set straight for the border. This it passed safely without meeting any resistance. Then it joined itself to Ahmose Ebana's fleet, placing the island in the middle of a circle of huge ships and causing the Biga garrison to retreat into its center, out of reach of the arrows of the fleet, which poured down on them from all quarters.
Three Novels of Ancient Egypt Page 54
