by Max Overton
Tausret said nothing but got down and allowed herself to be shown into the command tent, where stools had been hastily set out and wine poured into cups. She sat without being invited and arranged her skirts while Ramses sat down opposite her.
"Why are you here, Lady?" Ramses asked after they had both sipped on their wine. "What can you hope to achieve with your tiny force?"
"I would ask the same, Ramses son of Ratep. You have left your estates with many armed men, more than you need to ensure your safety. Some might wonder why you have done so, and ascribe motives that are less than flattering to your loyalty."
Ramses' nostrils tightened and he glared at the queen sitting across from him. "My loyalty is to Kemet, and always has been."
"Did you not once take an oath of loyalty to Userkheperure Seti? Has he sent for you and your men? Does he know you are marching across Ta Mehu?"
"Lady, you should go back to your palace and concern yourself with womanly matters. Leave the governance of the Two Lands to those who know."
"I am Queen Tausret Setepenmut, Great Wife of King Userkheperure Seti. My counsels are listened to by the king, I have governed the kingdoms in his absence, and I have taken the field against the enemies of Kemet. I, like you, am descended from Usermaatre and from his son Sethi and my adoptive father Baenre Merenptah. You will pay me the respect due to my position, Ramses son of Ratep, or this discussion is at an end. We can face each other in battle instead, and we will let the gods of Kemet decide who will be the victor, an anointed Queen or a man with ideas above his station."
Ramses glared at Tausret, his lips a thin line in his flushed face and his knuckles white around his wine cup. Then his eyes dropped and he said, "Your pardon, Lady. I misspoke." Every word was ripped reluctantly out of his mouth.
Tausret inclined her head graciously. "You are forgiven, Lord Ramses. Now, pour us some more wine and tell me why you are here. Perhaps you have some legitimate reason for taking armed soldiers across Ta Mehu."
Ramses poured more wine and they sat in silence for a time, sipping from their cups. At length, he put his cup aside and addressed the issue that lay between them. "Lady Tausret, you know as well as I that the Ma'at of Kemet is disturbed, brother wars against brother, no man is safe in city or country, and only the enemies of Kemet can benefit."
"And you would restore Ma'at by leading armed men against the king?"
Ramses nodded slowly. "You are aware that our ancestor Menpehtyre wrested the throne from the Heretic and his brothers, setting his son Menmaatre on the throne after him?"
"I know the history of our family. What is your point?"
"Menpehtyre laid the foundation, Menmaatre strengthened it and the great Usermaatre Ramesses, built the great temple that is Kemet. Plainly our house has the favour of the gods, as for nearly a hundred years we have had a stable and strong government. Even after Usermaatre ascended to Re, Kemet remained strong under Merenptah, but what has happened since?" Tausret remained silent, so Ramses continued. "The peace of the Two Kingdoms has been shattered, with Userkheperure Seti setting up as king in the north and Menmire Amenmesse in the south. After time out of mind, the Two Kingdoms are sundered and brother fights brother. Can you imagine that the gods want this?"
"Obviously not," Tausret said. "On this we are agreed. But is more fighting the answer?"
"When a physician encounters a suppurating wound he cuts it out, does he not? That is all I intend, to strike swiftly and cleanly, and excise the rottenness that infects the body of Kemet."
"When a physician wields his copper knife, all too often the patient dies. Would you kill Kemet by excising its life?"
"Not its life, Lady; only its false king."
"Then why are you marching east to join your brother against my husband? You should be marching south to join your forces with ours and defeat the usurper in Waset."
"Ah, my Lady, your husband is the false king."
Tausret frowned. "You cannot mean that."
"Lady, the hour is late. Whatever we decide, our men cannot fight at night. Let us end our discussions for now and resume in the morning after we are rested and fed. I would like to convince you that my cause, my brother's and mine, is just."
"Very well, Lord Ramses. A truce then, for tonight. We camp close by and in the morning you may try to convince me that you are in the right and I will do the same. Agreed?"
"Agreed, my Lady."
Neferhotep and Usertem were relieved to see their queen returning unharmed, and questioned her about what had transpired, but she would say nothing except issue some odd commands.
"Have the men fed and then stand to arms all night. I want them to make a lot of noise, clashing of swords and axes, uttering of war cries, shouting of orders, they must believe they could be attacked at any moment. In fact, do anything that will ensure the rebels have no sleep."
"If our men remain awake all night it will affect their fighting ability tomorrow," Neferhotep objected.
"We're not going to fight them, they outnumber us. All that fighting would achieve is our death."
"Then why, my lady?"
Tausret smiled. "Wait and see, and pray to the gods."
Chapter 34
Year 4 of Userkheperure Seti
Year 3 of Menmire Amenmesse
Ament returned to Per-Bast and spoke to his young companions Jerem and Ephrim. He told them of his incipient journey to Waset and what he hoped to accomplish for the sake of the Queen. Jerem insisted on going too, and the younger boy Ephrim was only a heartbeat behind him. Ament had mixed feelings about their desire to join him on his perilous mission, not wanting to take the boys into danger, but would be glad of their company.
"How will we kill the false king?" Jerem wanted to know. "By stealth or face to face?"
"I'll plunge a dagger into his heart," Ephrim volunteered.
Ament found himself smiling at their enthusiasm, but sat the boys down and spoke firmly to them. "You will not be involved in the death of the king. That is my job. The only reason I am considering taking you to Waset is as a disguise. They may be looking for an assassin, but not for a father with two small sons in tow."
Jerem made a face and nodded, but Ephrim's face lit up with joy.
"You are going to be our father?" he cried.
Ament opened his mouth to tell him they were only acting the part of being a family, but seeing the expression on the younger boy's face, just nodded. "Yes," he murmured. He ruffled Ephrim's hair.
They left the next day, from the docks of Per-Bast, in a small fishing boat. The boys looked with interest at the battered but river-worthy craft, at the patched sail and fishing nets bundled in the prow. Jerem dug a fingernail into the wood and prised up a small piece, flicking it into the slowly flowing water.
"Couldn't you have bought a better boat, master? A new one, even. This one will sink before we get half way to Waset."
"A new boat would be noticed, and we don't want to attract the attention of anyone. Besides, you should be thankful we're using a wooden boat. Poor people use ones made out of rushes. This tells people I'm a moderately successful fisherman, but nobody will look twice at a man with his young sons."
"They'll see soon enough that we're not real fishermen."
"That's where you are wrong, young Jerem," Ament said. "My father was a fisherman and though I've become a soldier and an Overseer, I know how to fish."
"Will you teach us, fath...master?" Ephrim asked.
"Count on it. By the time we get to Waset, you'll know how to catch and clean fish like a boy born to the trade. And call me 'father', both of you. I want that to be natural."
Jerem nodded. "Very well...father. But aren't fish already clean? They live in water, after all."
Ament laughed. "Wait and see."
He spent the first few days showing the boys how to handle a boat in the slow current of the easterly branch of the river; how to raise and lower the sail; how to steer, to tie knots, and how to bale out the bottom when water
leaked in through gaps between the boards. They had brought enough supplies from home to take them through those first days, but by the time they drew level with and then passed Men-nefer, Ament started their instruction on the art of fishing.
They spent a day in the shallows near a reed bed, getting to grips with the techniques of throwing a weighted net into the water and pulling it in without capsizing the boat, or else pulling a net behind the boat and hauling it over the stern. Ament kept a watchful eye out for crocodiles as a small boy would make a tasty snack for one of the armoured beasts. He showed them the muddy trails on the riverbanks where a crocodile had slipped into the water as they approached, and pointed out the tiny disturbances on the rippled surface of the river where the nostrils and eyes of the predator followed them.
"They'll leave you alone for the most part," Ament said, "though you have to be careful. They like fish as well as small boys, and they've been known to hit a boat and tip people into the water."
Stores ran low by the time they were a few days south of Men-nefer, so they started fishing in earnest, at first just cooking their catch every evening when they put into shore, and later selling the excess to farmers along their way.
"Anyone can catch fish for themselves," Ament told them, "but farmers are working in the fields from dawn to dusk, so they're happy for someone to trade some fish."
Ament showed the boys how to gut and clean the fish, saving the bloody remnants to attract more fish. "The guts will also attract crocodiles, so be careful." If he judged that crocodiles were in the area, they took their catch onto the riverbank and cleaned them there. They ate well, and both boys became proficient in all aspects of fishing by the time they reached the stretch of the river near Waset.
Here they came across the first signs of warfare, burnt out villages, plundered fields, and few people working the land. The people were unfriendly too, less inclined to trade their meagre crops for fish, and viewing their visitors with open suspicion. Ament took to camping on the western shore, and they survived largely on a diet of fish from then on.
They tied up at one of the lesser docks at Waset, the boys waiting by the boat while Ament went in search of the Overseer of Wharves, paying him a small sum in copper for the right to tie up there.
The overseer stared at him suspiciously. "You're not from around here, are you?"
Ament shook his head, mentioning a village several days north of there. "Thought I'd show my boys the big city. It's coming up for the Opet festival and who knows; maybe we'll get to see the king. That'd be a great treat."
The overseer shrugged. "Maybe, but Menmire doesn't like crowds. Stays in the palace most of the time." He yawned and scratched his ample belly. "Anything else?"
"Do you know of a place that might rent me and my sons a room for a while? Nothing too expensive."
"There's any number of places if you're not too fussy. You could try the Heru tavern near the market, though they might be too costly for a mere fisherman. Some of the brothels might rent you a room..." the overseer winked and grimaced "...though you might have to take a woman with it. I take it your wife's not with you?"
"She died," Ament said. "The tavern sounds fine; I'll try there."
Ament collected the boys from the boat and attached the little docket from the Overseer of Wharves that gave him permission to tie up his boat there for ten days. Then he wandered through the streets of the city, asking directions for the Heru tavern. He found it without much trouble, but they had no rooms for hire, instead recommending a house near the Great Temple of Amun. A room there cost him a little bit more than he hoped he would have to pay, but the owner just shrugged when Ament protested.
"Prices are rising. Blame it on this war. If one or other of the kings would win or agree to divide the kingdoms, we could get back to normal."
Ament was a little taken aback that such a thing would be openly discussed with a stranger, but merely nodded, offering no opinion. Later, as he walked the streets with the boys, listening in on street-corner gossip or chatting idly with merchants and common folk, he found that the room owner's comment was by no means isolated. A low hubbub of discontent roiled the city, comments only dying away when squads of Kushite warriors trotted past.
"Who are they?" Ephrim asked, pointing at a squad. "Why are they black?"
Ament pushed the boy's hand down and waited until the soldiers had passed out of earshot. "They are men from Kush, in the south, and they are all dark-skinned. Fierce warriors too. You must have seen them before, there are a few in the northern legions, though they make up most of the southern legions."
"We've seen a few," Jerem confirmed. "But none of them were wearing plumes and skins like these ones."
The markets fascinated the boys who had only seen smaller affairs in the Retenu villages or in Per-Bast more recently. They stood and stared at the colourful crowds of people, letting the cacophony of a thousand voices wash over them, and the odours of a city assault their nostrils. Boys of their own age and younger ran and played in the streets, darting and weaving between the legs of the adults, snatching food from a stall, throwing dung at a stall holder who objected. Dogs barked, donkeys brayed, geese honked and pigs squealed, from a distance came the lowing of cattle and bleating of goats in their pens, and over it all was laid the resonating bellows of rams' horns from the temples. Unwashed bodies, sweat-stained dresses and kilts, animal dung trodden underfoot by sandaled feet, all raised a strong stench which mingled with the aromas of spices, cooking meats, baking bread and freshly brewed beer, drifting in the hot dusty air of Kemet's largest city.
Ament guided his boys through the throng, buying a loaf of bread and a pot of weak beer. He led them away from the market and they sat on the wide steps of a temple dedicated to Min and ate their meal. They ate the bread hungrily, washing it down with weak beer and spitting aside a few stone chips caught up in the bread.
"What do we do now?" Jerem asked. He looked around carefully to make sure they were not overheard. "About Menmire, I mean. How do we kill him and when?"
Ament shook his head. "I don't know. From what I've overheard, he stays in the palace, rarely venturing out."
"Can we get into the palace then?"
"Possibly, though I'll go alone if that happens. You and Ephrim will stay safe in our room."
"I can help," Jerem protested.
"Me too," Ephrim added.
"Absolutely not. If I get the chance, I'll strike the usurper down and make my escape. If I'm caught or killed, I don't want you anywhere near me. You two will stay in the room and if I don't return...well, you'll have to make the best of it. I'll leave you a little copper, all I've got, and you can sail the boat back downriver. I've shown you how and you're good enough, Jerem."
The boys were unhappy but agreed to obey Ament. "Perhaps it won't come to that, mast...father," Jerem said. "I think I know how you can get into the palace. You're a fisherman, so you turn up with a basket of fish and..."
"It doesn't work quite like that," Ament said gently. "If the Waset palace is anything like the Men-nefer one, of which I was Captain of the Guard, if you remember, food is seldom bought straight from the farmer or fisherman. I'd have to take my catch to a seller, and then someone from the palace would come with a list..."
"What's a list?" Ephrim asked.
"All the things he needs written down so he doesn't forget. As I was saying, the palace official would buy my fish from the seller and use his own servants or slaves to carry them into the palace."
"Can everybody write?" Ephrim asked.
"Very few can. Maybe one in a hundred and most of those are scribes or officials. Of course, it depends what you mean by writing. If you mean the hieroglyphics in the temples, then only the priests and senior scribes, but if you mean the little twists and squiggles of the common script, then a lot more. If you're a shopkeeper or even a farmer, you still need to keep track of what you've sold or bought, so a lot of people can write a few symbols that remind them of what's happened
."
"Can you write, father?" Jerem asked.
Ament nodded. "Only the common script though. I don't have much use for anything more."
"Then could you write something that says you are taking a basket of fish to the palace? If they thought you had been sent by the person who buys food, they'd let you in."
Ament thought about this, and then nodded slowly. "It might work, providing the buyer was still out in the city. If he was in the palace, they might ask him if he had sent me."
"So we just need to watch until he leaves."
They put their plan into operation the next day, waiting outside the palace for kitchen staff to emerge and asking who they should talk to about providing fish for the palace.
"That'll be Ramose," one of the kitchen helpers said. "I don't like your chances though. He has a good deal with Pentamut in the fish market. You might be able to bribe him though, if you have gold."
"Can you point Ramose out to me?"
"You can't mistake him, he's fat and is blind in one eye."
"We'll have to think of something else," Jerem said as they wandered down to the fish market. "We don't have any gold."
"We don't need it," Ament said cheerfully. "We know the name of the buyer and seller. Now we just need to know if this Pentamut employs anyone special."
They found Pentamut's stall in the fish market, and under the pretence of examining the fish on display, found out that he employed men off the street to carry his wares rather than using his own staff. Ament offered his services as a carrier, but was quickly seen off by a pair of well-muscled men.
"Don't you get no ideas, stranger," said one of them. "We is the men what carries for Pentamut. Come round here again and we'll break your legs."
"Or worse," added the other man.
Ament smiled and nodded and said he would not dream of encroaching on their territory. He led the boys away.
"How did that help?" Jerem asked.
"It's all coming together," Ament assured him. "We wait until Ramose is out, then I turn up at the kitchen with a basket of fish, saying they come from Pentamut. Street men deliver his fish, so they won't expect anyone special. Once I'm inside the palace, I can slip away and find the king."
