by Max Overton
"How do they stand it?" Ament wondered.
"Dreadful though it is, such tasks are better than being in the mines, sir."
"How do those things work?" Ament asked. "How is rock turned into metal?"
Zephan looked around and then approached one of the guards, explaining who Ament was, and the question he had posed. The guard called over one of the men working on a nearby kiln.
"This be Rabi," the guard said. "He be like the foreman for this kiln. Rabi, tell this man..." he gestured at Ament, "...what you does."
Rabi grimaced. "Youse knows about ores, lord?"
"Nothing," Ament said.
"Well, inna old days we usta dig a pit, line it with stone an' then make layers of charcoal an' ore an' top it with stone to keep th' heat in an' light it. Next day, after it cools like, we dig it up an' find a lump of copper with something we calls slag on it. We knocks the slag off, melts the copper an' pours it into moulds."
"Amazing," Ament commented. "Who would think these ordinary rocks..." he picked up and hefted a green-tinged rock "...contained red metal? You said 'in the old days', what do you do now?"
Rabi grinned. Despite his slave status, he obviously took a certain pride in his work. "Some sorta thing, lord, but now we don't dig a pit. We makes a big clay bowl on toppa the ground an' add layers as before, then tops it off as before an' keeps the fire nice an' hot until the copper melts outa the rock an' runs down inta the bowl what we made."
"How is that different?" Ament asked, trying to visualise the whole process. "It sounds the same except the molten copper is above ground instead of in a pit. You'd have just as much work making a dome as digging a pit and no real benefit."
"Ah, that's where youse wrong, lord, beggin' your pardon. Come an' have a look round here." With the guard's permission, he led them round the nearest dome and pointed to a clay protrusion low down, near the ground. "We calls it a nipple, 'cause it looks like..."
"Yes, I can see that. What does it do?"
"Th' pool of molten copper is behind it, lord. When we knocks off the end of th' nipple, the copper comes pouring out an' inta these moulds, leavin' th' slag behind."
"Most ingenious."
"Youse wants to see it happen?" Rabi asked. "This one's about ready like." He looked at the guard, who nodded. "Youse might wanta step back a bit, lord. It gets plenty hot like when we cracks it."
As Ament, Zephan and the guard moved back some twenty paces, Rabi flexed his muscles, spat on his hands, and grasped a long wooden pole with a copper blade on one end. He swung the blade, and the heavy metal smashed into the brittle clay of the nipple, shattering it. White hot metal sprayed out. Rabi screamed and stumbled back, dropping the pole, while molten copper that resembled a bright bar of the sun god's very substance splashed into a groove and ran down it into the moulds. Dense clouds of smoke and noxious fumes swept over the spectators, making them cough and step back, while the glowing copper ingots slowly dimmed.
"By all the gods," Ament muttered. "That was some sight. It was as if the god Re had stepped down from his solar barque and walked upon the earth."
"I think Rabi is hurt," Zephan said.
Other men were running over to where the foreman Rabi was rolling in agony on the far side of the kiln. One of them snatched a bucket of water from a boy and threw it over the injured man, drawing forth a shuddering cry. The guard pushed through to the fallen man and examined his cursorily, nudging him with his coiled whip.
"Stupid man," the guard snarled. "Your action will no doubt cause a delay in production. You and you..." he pointed his whip at two men. "Carry him back to camp and then return. Move!" He turned back to Ament. "A few scorch marks, but a bad burn on one arm. He might live, but if not, I'll have to train up another man." The guard yelled at the men still standing around and unfurled his whip. "Back to work, you sons of whores."
Zephan and Ament turned away, and a youth detached himself from a group of slaves, running across and throwing himself at Ament's feet, throwing his arms about the soldier's legs.
"Help me, lord, I beg."
"What? Get off." Ament shook his leg, and Zephan dragged the boy off. "What do you want?"
"You brought me here, lord. Please help me and my brother Jerem."
Ament drew the boy to his feet and looked round in case the guard was showing an interest, but he was busy getting the other slaves back to work. "I can't help you," he said. "I don't have the authority to free slaves."
"I unnerstan', lord, but please help me little brother. He's been taken off to be... to be used by the guards. I heard what happens to these boys from others here. It... it isn't right what happens."
"No, it's not," Ament agreed. "But I don't think I can do anything."
"Please, lord. What would it matter if Jerem was put out here with me? He could carry water and...and at least he'd be safe from those men."
The young boy looked like he was about to burst into tears, so Ament said, more to comfort him than in the hope of being able to achieve anything. "I'll see what I can do. Your brother is Jerem, you said? What's your name?"
"Ephrim, lord. From the village of Tanah. Thank you, lord; I'll pray to all our gods to bless you."
"Pray to them for your own sake, Ephrim. I can't promise anything."
"Here, what's going on? Back to work, you, and don't be bothering your betters." A whip cracked near Ament and he looked across to see the guard striding toward them.
Ephrim started to back away, fear on his young face. "You'll remember, lord? Jerem's his name. Please?"
Ament stepped into the guard's path and held up a hand. "Stop. This boy is coming with me."
Zephan frowned and plucked at Ament's arm. "Not a good idea, sir," he muttered.
Ament shook off the tribesman's hand and faced the guard. "This boy has information for me. I'm taking him back to camp."
The guard scowled. "I can't allow that. He's one of the smelter workers."
"You dispute my authority? I was given it by the king himself. Take it up with your commander if you wish, but he's coming with me now."
"Ahh, what's it to me?" The guard shrugged and started coiling his whip again. "Send him back when you've finished with him." He turned away and started shouting at the other slaves.
Ament, Zephan and Ephrim made their way back to the camp, Ament in silence, Zephan muttering darkly about 'sir making a big mistake', and the boy babbling on about how his gods would smile upon the lord for his kind act.
"Cease your babble," Ament growled at last. "Why would I want foreign gods smiling on me? I may not be able to do anything anyway."
Arriving back at the camp, Ament left the boy with Zephan and went in to see Commander Nebamen. When he was shown in to the commander's room, he saluted despite being of superior rank.
"Commander Nebamen, I have discovered that one of the slave boys that I brought out has information I need. I have brought him back from the smelters and I also need to question his brother who is held in the guards' camp. I ask that you release them both into my care."
"What information?"
Ament hesitated, as he had not really thought this through. "Information relevant to...to the...to the campaign into Retenu that the king conducted recently. He was looking for...for a rebel leader...but nobody knew where he was. I think these boys might."
"After all this time?" Nebamen asked, his voice betraying scepticism. "Are you sure you do not have some other motive? I said you could have a boy if you desired it. There is no need for an excuse."
"It is no excuse sir. I need them for the information they carry, nothing else."
"Well, question them then for all I care. How long will you need them for?"
"I must take them back to Men-nefer with me."
"Out of the question. The boys are slaves and stay here. You can have them for a day, a day and night even, but no more. If you need help extracting the information, let me know. We have some skilled interrogators here, a bit crude, perhaps, but they get
results."
"Thank you sir. You will release Ephrim and Jerem to me then?"
"Do I care what their names are? Just take them, extract the information and send them back to their duties."
Ament led Zephan and Ephrim into the guards' camp, and reunited the brothers. Mentopher objected to the younger boy being taken, but gave way when Ament showed him the signed order from Commander Nebamen.
"I've taken a fancy to him myself," the Overseer said. "Start with his interrogation, so you can have him back by tonight. Preferably uninjured." Mentopher grinned and winked. "Any injuries the boy takes, I'll inflict on him myself."
Ament kept a straight face and marched the two boys away.
"What are you going to do, sir?" Zephan asked. "You won't get far in a day, and the commander will send men after you. Stealing slaves is not looked upon kindly."
"I don't know," Ament admitted. "I hadn't thought that far ahead. I suppose I'll have to cut across the desert rather than take the road to Eilah."
"You really haven't thought it through, have you, sir? You can't carry enough water with you to reach the nearest well, even if you knew where it was, and without water you'll be dead in a day."
"We'll have to try. I'm not leaving them behind."
"What about all the other boys?"
"I can't help them, but I can help these two."
"You can't even help yourself, sir."
"So you help me, Zephan. You know the desert; you hate what's happening to these boys."
Zephan looked away over the valley for a while and then sighed. "If they catch us, you'll probably just be reprimanded. The boys will be flogged and returned to their duties, but I'll likely be executed."
"You're right. Forgive me, Zephan, I had no right to ask you. We'll manage on our own somehow."
Zephan shook his head. "No you wouldn't, you'd die of thirst before the soldiers could find you." The tribesman sighed again. "I could not live with your lives on my conscience. I will help you."
Chapter 15
Userkheperure Seti speaks:
To be King of Kemet, Lord of the Two Lands, Son of Re, Divine Father, Lord of Appearances, High Priest of Every Temple, Mighty Bull, is an exalted position, far above every other king that reigns under the solar disc. It is only because I am a god that I have the strength to lead my people, to guide them and protect them from our traditional enemies. A mere man could not do it and the fact that I am still here accepting the fervent obeisance of my subjects nearly a year after my accession is proof of my divine status. Why then do men seek to displace me from the throne and put another in my place? The gods of Kemet do not allow such a thing, are they perhaps following some foreign god?
It is not as if I neglect my sacred duties. I arise each day before dawn; wash and dress in simple attire and make my way to an open space to greet the sun as he rises above the horizon, uttering up such praise as any dutiful son must give to his father. Khepri, the Reborn Light, sun of the dawn that drives away the shadows of night and bathes the Land of the Gods in its gentle morning heat, this is the aspect of Re that I love the most, though all aspects are worthy of worship and receive my sacrifices.
After my dawn service, I break my fast and then make the rounds of the main temples to all the gods, offering up sacrifices as is proper for the High Priest. This takes time, but it is a necessary task, for the Ma'at of the Two Kingdoms depends on the good will of the gods. I am a god myself, so I know that without food and drink, without clean clothes, perfume and jewellery, I too would not be so inclined to look on my subjects with a glad eye. I oversee the cleansing of the statues of the gods in their precincts, the fresh clothing in which they are clad each day, and the food and drink laid out before them so they may partake of the spirit essences and nourish themselves.
After my priestly duties I bathe and don the garments proper for my duties to the kingdoms. I sit in the Hall of Audiences and hear legal cases which any of my subjects, be they commoner or noble, can ask to be heard by the highest in the land. In point of fact, my Tjaty will hear most cases, as do judges and governors of every sepat and city, and it is usually only the more serious ones that come to my attention.
For instance, just the other day, the Commander of the Guards of the Great Field brought before me three miscreants apprehended in the act of looting one of the minor tombs in their care. If I had not been in Waset, then Tjaty Neferronpet would likely have heard the case, but as I was here, I had them brought before me.
The guards brought them in, a man, a youth and a boy, and hurled them to the stone floor, their copper chains clashing as they grovelled and begged for mercy. Commander Pamont read out the charges, and outlined the evidence against the thieves. There was no point in asking for a defence because of course they would say they had not done it. The evidence was clear, so I asked them if they had anything to say before I passed sentence.
One of them, the man, struggled to his knees and held his hands out beseechingly. "Great One," he quavered. "Have mercy I beg. These are my sons and I led them to this. The fault is mine alone."
"Yet they took part in the robbery," I replied. "They are equally guilty, and this is not just a crime of theft of property, but theft of a man's eternal life."
And of course that is what it was. A tomb is built to be a secure haven for the dead person, and is stocked with his worldly goods, with food and drink and gold, all the good things he enjoyed in life and has a reasonable hope of enjoying through eternity. A rich man has a lot of grave goods and a poor man little, but each has according to his station in life. Where is the justice in a rich man being robbed in death and having to spend the rest of eternity as a poor man?
"Hunger drove me to it, Great One. I was a sandal maker but my house and shop burned down in...in the rioting, and I could not feed my family. I led my sons into this course of action, so the fault is mine. Great One, I have a wife and three daughters. What is to become of them if you...if you...?" The man broke down, weeping.
"How old are your sons?"
"S...Sem is fif...fifteen floods, Great One, and Bak is...is only ten. They are good boys and do as they are told."
"So it seems. And have your wife and daughters benefitted from your thievery?"
"No, Great One. This was...this was my first time."
I looked questioningly at the guard commander.
"We searched their house, Son of Re, and found nothing."
I considered the evidence and the plea for mercy, but I knew there was little I could do, even if I had been minded to. Robbing a tomb is a serious offence and merits death, often a particularly painful death, but I saw no good reason to visit this man's crime on his family. Still, justice had to be seen to have been done or other tomb robbers would take advantage of my perceived leniency.
"The penalty is death by disembowelling..."
My words were interrupted by a great cry of anguish and a stink of faeces as the man's bowels released and he fell prostrate on the stone floor. A guard stepped forward and silenced him with a blow from his spear haft, while a servant hurried over with cloths to clean up the worst of the mess.
"As I was saying, death by disembowelling or such form of death as may be decided upon given the particular circumstances. You and your sons are condemned to death for the crime of grave robbing, but I am aware of the situation your family will find itself in. Without a man, your wife and daughters will suffer, and that is not justice."
A gleam of hope appeared in the condemned man's eyes.
"I will execute you and one of your sons for the crime. The other will return to his family and support it by the sweat of his brow."
My words sunk in and the man shuddered, before struggling back into a kneeling position. "Bless you, Great One, for your mercy, but...but which son will you spare?"
"That is your choice."
The man stared at the youth and the boy, both now sobbing and shaking with fear. He held out his hands to them both. "How can I choose, Great One? I love the
m both."
"Choose, and I will grant you both a merciful death. Make me choose and suffer disembowelling."
The man cried out again and shuffled across the floor on his knees to embrace his sons. He kissed them both and turned back to me.
"Which of your sons will live?" I demanded.
The man shut his eyes and said, "Sem." The young boy screamed and collapsed, sobbing.
"The older one?" I asked, thinking perhaps he had made a mistake. "You send the young boy to his death?"
"I...I love them both equally, Great One, but m...my wife and daughters whom I love as well, will n...need a man to look after them. Sem is almost a man."
I nodded, and contemplated the scene before me. "A good answer," I said. "Let it be recorded that I commute the boy Bak's sentence to a life of servitude as a brick maker. Commander Pamont, release the elder son, convey the younger to the brickworks and take the man out and execute him by beheading."
The man and his sons cried out their farewells as they were led off to their fates, but the man also called on the gods to bless my name for my act of mercy. Then servants hurried to clean up the last of the mess on the floor and sprinkle perfume before the next case was called.
You might think that a king who ruled with justice tempered by mercy would be beloved by his people, yet this is not so in Waset. I have been in Amun's City for a few months now, ever-conscious that my brother Messuwy and his cohorts have poisoned men's minds against me. I would much rather be in the north where men love me, but I am determined that the men of Waset shall see me as a true king, so I stay.
I am glad that my wives are with me, and now that Takhat is far along in her pregnancy, I have an excuse to visit Tausret's bed once more. I know, I am the king, and I can take any woman to bed if I choose, but with all my other troubles, I want a peaceful life within the palace, so if either wife would rather sleep alone, I am content. In truth, these days spent in an unfriendly city have been good for me and my Queen. We have spent more time together, talking and playing games of Senet (she is much better at it than me), taking our ease in the royal gardens or laughing at the antics of the apes in the menagerie. It is almost as if we had never quarrelled and we are as we were in our youth.
