Fall of the House of Ramesses, Book 2: Seti

by Max Overton

  "We have not seen him," Ahmes ventured in support of his brother Commander.

  "Nor his banner," Besenmut completed.

  Seti stared at the lines in the sand, weighing the strengths of the opposing armies and their dispositions. "We have four legions against their three," he said at last. "And nearly two hundred chariots. Those alone would be able to smash apart Kushite legions, but we need them to be gathered together, rather than strung out on either side of the road. How are we to gather them together for the slaughter?"

  Iurudef was the senior officer and the Commanders looked to him. "We must entice them," he said. "Tempt them away from their positions."

  "It's a bit obvious, isn't it?" Besenmut murmured. "No commander worthy of the name would let his men break position."

  "We're talking about Kushites, though," Setnakhte said. "I know them. Fierce warriors, but undisciplined and troublesome. I think we could offer bait they could not resist."

  "Bait?" Besenmut said. "You would not risk the king?"

  "No man denies the king an opportunity to strike his enemies," Seti said. "What is your plan, Setnakhte?"

  "Just this, Majesty. We strike down the road at the legion sitting on it, and fly the banners of the king. The other legions will not be able to resist the opportunity to win in a single stroke and will leave their positions on the flank and join the battle on the road. When all are gathered in one spot, the chariots charge and shatter the enemy."

  "Simple enough," Iurudef commented, "but it puts the king in too much danger. Until the chariot charge, we will be outnumbered three to one."

  "I did not say the king had to actually be there," Setnakhte retorted, "only that the royal banners are flown. The king should lead the chariot charge."

  "I would dare all," Seti said, "but the chariot squadrons are mine."

  "And we stand the best chance of victory with the king leading the charge," Besenmut said.

  "I like the plan, Setnakhte," Seti said. "We shall follow it."

  "And who commands the 'bait'?" Ahmes asked. "The enemy will surround it and attack furiously."

  "It is my plan. I petition you, Son of Re, to grant me the honour of commanding that legion into battle."

  "Willingly," Seti responded. "But we must make you appear royal so that every man's eye is upon you and none doubt that I am there in their midst. As well as my banners, you shall wear the blue Khepresh crown."

  Besenmut and Ahmes sucked in their breath, while Iurudef raised his eyebrows in shock.

  Setnakhte bowed low, his hands outstretched. "I shall die before I bring dishonour on that sacred crown," he said.

  * * *

  The Per-Bast legion advanced down the road toward the Kushite position, the soldiers enthusiastic at the chance to put their training into effect, and looking askance at their Commander, Setnakhte, who was resplendent in kingly raiment and wore the blue war crown. He rode in a chariot above which whipped the banners of Kemetu royalty and of the House of Ramesses, two other chariots behind and to either side. The charioteer reined in the horses that strained, eager for the charge, and Setnakhte turned to his troops and loudly encouraged them to strike a blow against the rebels. Close at hand now, the waiting Kushite warriors raised a jeering cry in reply and hammered on their cowhide shields with their spears.

  Setnakhte looked up at the banners flying above his chariot and felt his heart swell with pride. For this I was born, he thought. Userkheperure Seti is a grandson of Usermaatre Ramesses, but I am Usermaatre's son. But for an accident of birth, I would be king now and these would be my men following me into battle.

  The men of Per-Bast raised a cheer and surged forward, losing cohesion as faster-paced men outstripped the slower. Setnakhte's chariot leapt forward too, rapidly closing the gap between them and the Kushite warriors.

  Setnakhte drew his bow and loosed an arrow, he was rewarded by an enemy warrior pitching forward onto the road. Today I am king, he exulted.

  The Per-Bast crashed into the front row of the Kushite, which was already surging forward to meet their northern enemies, and moments later Setnakhte's chariot was in the thick of the fighting, slowed to a walk, and then a stop by the crush of fighting men. More soldiers poured into the wound in the southern army's line, and the Per-Bast, inexperienced in warfare, raised a premature cry of victory.

  The two legions had ceased to be fighting units but had disintegrated into hundreds of pairs of men, each struggling to stay alive and to inflict mortal injury on their opponent. Per-Bast men hacked and stabbed with axe and cumbersome long spear while the men of Kush stabbed with short spear and lifted their cowhide shields high, grunting with the effort. Gradually, the impetus of the Per-Bast charge dissipated and the Kushite legion thrust them back, throwing tired men back against their comrades still pressing forward.

  Setnakhte shot all his arrows and lifted his ceremonial curved khopesh sword, yelling out encouragement to his men. Over the heads of the men he saw his ruse had worked and the outlying Kushite legions were closing on the battle, reinforcing the central legion. As they did so, the Per-Bast men were borne down by weight of numbers and were forced into a stumbling retreat.

  Where are they? Where are the chariots?

  As if in answer the ground trembled and a rumbling roar filled the air. Setnakhte looked to the north and lifted his sword high, even as his charioteer tumbled dying to the ground. Now the Kushite warriors were hesitating, drawing back from combat and turning to see what approached. The ones nearest the north road cried out in terror and tried to flee, but there were too many men in the way. The onrushing wave of chariots, King Seti in the forefront, smashed into the chaos of the Kushite legions, trampling broken bodies under hooves and wheels, spraying hot blood to mix with dust in the rippling air.

  The rush of chariots slowed as the crush of bodies robbed the horses of their momentum. Kushite warriors trembled as the battle-hardened soldiers of the north, flying the banners of Set, Ptah and Heru carved their way into the milling crowd, men on the edges of the battle already edging away, appalled at the ferocity of the enemy.

  Setnakhte saw the enemy army shiver like the reed beds when a fierce northerly wind strikes it, and knew what it meant. "They flee," he yelled, brandishing his khopesh sword. "The enemy flees. Strike them down, men of Per-Bast; kill, O men of Heru; forward, soldiers of Set; victory is in sight, men of Ptah. Hit them hard, for Userkheperure and Kemet!"

  A moment later they were in flight. The army came apart around the edges, streaming away from the conflict, down the road toward Waset and out across the desert. Seti's army pursued them, a chaos of running men hacking at the enemy or stopping to rip trinkets from the bodies of the fallen. The Troop Commanders had the rams' horns blown for the recall and junior officers ran after the men, laying about them with their whips until finally the men of the northern legions stopped, and like an ebb tide pulled back to their positions.

  Seti called Setnakhte to him and in front of the assembled Commanders and officers, embraced him and praised him. "You shall have the Gold of Valour for your actions this day, Commander Setnakhte."

  The bodies of the fallen Kushite were counted and heaped beside the road, while the fallen from the legions were tended by army physicians and then sent back under a small escort. Severely injured soldiers, both friend and foe, were swiftly dispatched and the corpses added to the pile or buried in shallow graves in the hot sun until such time as the families could collect them for proper burial.

  The men were fed and water skins were replenished at the well of Ransut before Seti ordered the army to march south. He swore he would rout the remnants of Messuwy's army and hang his brother from the walls of Waset before the month was out, and after the victory earlier in the day, not one officer or soldier who heard him doubted it would happen.

  Chapter 29

  Year 3 of Userkheperure Seti

  Year 2 of Menmire Amenmesse

  One consequence of Amenmesse's rebellion and seizing of the throne of Ta She
mau was to upset Ma'at and encourage other dissidents. There were many of these, men who had been refused promotions or positions of importance, and valued themselves more highly than did the king. Few were strong enough to do something about it, but Meryre, son of Meryatum thought himself a rightful claimant of royal privilege, and had large estates with many men.

  Meryre marched out of the northwest with a thousand men armed with pitchforks, mattocks and axes, and thought himself a general at the head of his legions. Word of his advance was carried swiftly to Men-nefer, where Tjaty Hori and Queen Tausret stared unbelievingly at the messenger.

  "Who is this Meryre?" Tausret demanded.

  "One of the swarming grandsons of Usermaatre," Hori replied. "He is the son of Meryatum, Hem-netjer of Re at Iunu."

  "Is he mad to think he has some claim on the throne of Kemet?"

  "Every son and grandson passed over for riches and position might consider himself injured and seek redress. Why, even I have better claim than this Meryre, being grandson of Khaemwaset who was once Crown Prince." Hori laughed. "I have been honoured and raised up by the rightful king, Userkheperure Seti, so I am content with my lot, but evidently Meryre thinks himself worthy of the royal prerogative."

  "What should we do?" Tausret asked. "He has a thousand men."

  "Farmers and common labourers for the most part. They will come to their senses and go home."

  "We cannot let Meryre's treason go unpunished."

  "I would counsel a soft approach, Great Wife. Let me send word to him that he should turn around and go home, and that any complaints he might have will be dealt with in the proper manner once the king returns."

  "Is that all? His actions insult the king."

  "Then let the king answer him, lady. It is more important to keep the kingdom peaceful than to strike down wrong-doers."

  Tausret nodded and they passed on to other business. Hori sent off a messenger to Meryre, bidding him turn around and await the king's pleasure, but he did not, and disaffected peasants from the countryside joined his 'army', swelling its ranks.

  Hori brought the news to Queen Tausret this time. "Meryre has had my messenger beaten, and swears he will depose the king and marry his Queen. He is now only two day's march away with a rabble of fifteen hundred men."

  Tausret grimaced. "We cannot ignore him any longer."

  "You are right, Great Wife, but we lack the resources to meet him in the field. I would counsel shutting the city gates and waiting for the king to return. Let them sit impotently outside the walls."

  "I listened to you once before, Tjaty Hori, and we are worse off now than we were before. I will raise an army and go to meet this upstart."

  Hori sighed but kept his face impassive. "Whatever you decide is best, Majesty...but where will you find an army? You have only thirty palace guards."

  "There is the city Medjay."

  "A hundred or so men armed with a staff and a fierce look. You are still outnumbered ten to one."

  A small smile crossed Tausret's face. "Perhaps you will join me, Hori?"

  "I am a scribe, majesty, not a warrior."

  Tausret shook her head gently. "Poor Hori. How many chariots did the king leave us?"

  "A few broken ones, some of which have been repaired. Not enough to make a difference against a thousand men." The Tjaty hesitated, seeing the look of determination on the queen's face. "Majesty, it is hopeless. Order the gates shut and we can wait for the king in safety."

  "My husband the king left Ta Mehu in my charge, Hori. I will not stand by and see it fall into disorder. Have the Captain of the Guard report to me this afternoon, and the Captain of the Medjay."

  "As you wish, Majesty." Hori bowed low and departed.

  * * *

  Later that afternoon, Neferhotep, Captain of the Palace Guard, and Usertem, Captain of the City Medjay bowed low before the Queen. Tausret looked them over carefully and nodded her approval.

  "How many men can you release from their normal duties? Assume it is a matter of life or death."

  The two men looked at each other. "Forty," Neferhotep said. "Fifty if I must."

  "You must. And you, Usertem?"

  "I cannot leave the city unpoliced, Majesty, so...one hundred and twenty...maybe thirty."

  "Neferhotep, you will be Acting Commander, and Usertem, you are his deputy. Make the palace guards your officers, and the Medjay the enlisted men. I want them equipped for war and ready to march by tomorrow morning."

  "Er, who do we...er, we march to join the king, Majesty?" Usertem asked.

  "No, there is rebellion in the north. I will lead you and we will quash this rebellion before it gets going. Have your men readied and in place by the north gate at dawn."

  The two men bowed and started to the door, but Tausret called them back. "One more thing. I need discipline as firm as hardened bronze. I will explain as we go, but select your most obedient men."

  * * *

  The men were waiting at dawn, just inside the north gate of the city, drawn up in ranks with palace guards as officers and Medjay armed with long spears standing straight behind them. Tausret drove up in a chariot with three others, hastily repaired, behind her. Throwing protocol aside, she took the reins of her chariot herself and invited the two commanders to step aboard. The other chariots followed and the men stepped out at a brisk pace in the cool morning air.

  "So," Tausret said, "this is what we face. Fifteen hundred farmers and labourers, maybe more, armed mostly with farming implements and without any military training whatsoever. We have one hundred and eighty men and four chariots, but our men are disciplined and used to the sight of blood. Can we win?"

  "Of course, Majesty," Usertem said. "With right on our side, how can we lose?"

  Neferhotep nodded slowly. "Man for man, a guard is worth five farmers and a Medjay two. It will be a close run thing."

  "Yes, but a hundred and eighty men fighting together, as a unit, can win over ten times that number fighting only for themselves." Tausret looked grim. "Make no mistake, the fate of the kingdom hangs upon our actions today. We fight as one and live, or as individuals or die. Can your men fight together?"

  "The guard can," Neferhotep said. "Perhaps they should fight as a unit instead of being divided up amongst the Tens and Fifties of the Medjay."

  "They are trained soldiers, and must stiffen the back of the Medjay."

  "The Medjay can fight together too, Majesty," Usertem said. "My men are used to relying on each other for support."

  Tausret sent her other chariots out to scout the road ahead and they returned quickly, reporting the presence of a swarm of men meandering down the road toward them.

  "Draw the men up in units of ninety each on either side of the road, the chariots on the road itself."

  The morning sun rose half way to the zenith, hot in a clear blue sky before Meryre's men appeared, sauntering along as if out for a stroll in the countryside. Tausret's men stood at ease and waited for them, and she stood in her chariot along with her two commanders. Insects buzzed and songbirds sang in the grassy fields, while hawks circled lazily above them. Men coughed and murmured, scratching their bodies, and urinating where they stood rather than break ranks.

  "There is Meryre's banner," Tausret murmured. "Let us go and see what he has to say for himself."

  She drove the chariot out along the road and stopped a hundred paces from her men. The opposing crowd of men slowed and stopped, looking to Meryre to tell them what to do. He emerged from the crowd on foot and, together with a small group of hangers-on and confidants, walked out to meet Tausret.

  "Meryre, son of Meryatum," Tausret said. "You are a long way from home. What is your business in Men-nefer and why have you brought these peasants with you rather than letting them work in the fields and farms as they should?"

  "You think to oppose me with that handful of men scraped from the streets of Men-nefer?" Meryre asked with a sneer.

  "I asked what your business is, Meryre."

&nbs
p; "I have come to claim the throne of Kemet. While your husband bickers with his brother, I shall, as grandson of the great Usermaatre, take what is mine and restore Ma'at to the kingdoms."

  "I will not argue with you, Meryre. You have no claim to my husband's throne and I bid you return to your home at once or face the consequences."

  Meryre laughed. "What consequences? My army will overwhelm your little band and if you are lucky, I will keep you alive as my wife."

  Tausret fixed Meryre with a stare but spoke loud enough to be heard by the men closest to them. "Neferhotep, Usertem, mark well these men. There is a deben of gold for each of their heads, but do not seek to impress me by fancy tricks with the sword, axe or spear. Kill quickly and cleanly and slaughter without mercy any man who opposes you."

  "Yes, Queen Tausret," they both replied together.

  The men who had gathered about Meryre, hoping to share in his success, paled at the threat and drew back, but Meryre called for his men to form up in ranks as Tausret wheeled her chariot and drove back to her waiting men. Neferhotep and Usertem dismounted and joined their units.

  Scarcely had they joined their men than Tausret waved her tiny chariot squadron forward. At once, the two divisions of her army leapt forward at a run, though the faster men were careful not to outpace their slower comrades. As a result, the two groups of ninety men hit the loose ranks of farmers and ploughed straight through them even as Tausret's four chariots burst upon Meryre and shattered his little group. Meryre himself went down under the hooves of her horses, the chariot bouncing and lurching over the fallen bodies. Screams arose all around and within moments, Meryre's army of farmers turned tail and ran, streaming across the fields, throwing away their makeshift weapons. Neferhotep and Usertem let them go, their men contenting themselves with a jeering bellow of laughter and self-congratulatory cheers.

  They collected the heads of Meryre and his cronies and mounted them on spears. Then the little army marched back to Men-nefer in triumph, voices lifted in songs of praise for General Tausret, Warrior Queen of Kemet.