by Max Overton
"Won't somebody ask you what you're doing? You'll be a stranger."
"If this palace is anything like the Men-nefer one, everyone knows what their own duties are and ignores everyone else. I'll pick something up and carry it about looking as if I belong there until I find him."
"Then what?"
"Then I'll have to see. If he's alone, I'll kill him. If not, I'll have to wait until he is."
"And what do we do?"
"Once I'm inside, you go back to our room and wait. If I'm not back in a day, go down to the boat and sail it home. It will mean I've failed."
The next morning at dawn, Jerem and Ephrim hung around outside the kitchen entrance, tossing stones, and waited for Ramose to make an appearance. When he did, waddling down to the markets with a small retinue of servants. The boys ran to the river, where Ament waited with a basket of freshly caught fish. He had prepared the scrap of paper which he would show the kitchen staff the night before, and all it said was 'a basket of fresh fish from Pentamut, for the palace' and had Ramose's name appended. It was all that was needed, and a busy servant impatiently waved him through to the kitchens and pointed out where to leave his burden.
Although the day was still cool, the brick ovens outside the kitchen were already churning out heat, rippling the air and wafting waves of hot air mingled with the aromas of baking bread and roasting meats into the palace. Ament heard his belly signal its hunger, but decided against trying to filch a little food. The risk was too great, and he did not want to draw attention to himself, so he casually wiped his hands on a cloth and, picking up a wooden platter with four empty cups on it, slipped out of the kitchen and into a corridor. Servants hurried back and forth, intent on their own errands and, as Ament had expected, paid him little attention. Anyone who saw him assumed he was carrying out some duty assigned him by an overseer and did not think to question it.
As he neared the residential areas of the palace he noted that the kilts and tunics of the servants were of better quality, and he glanced down at his own stained kilt. He realised he would soon stand out if he did not somehow smarten himself up. Turning aside from the inner chambers, he walked back toward the storage rooms and after a bit of searching, saw maidservants coming out of a room bearing clean linens. Inside, he found stacks of bed linens, but also bundles of fresh kilts. Quickly, he swapped his own for a clean one, tucking the soiled one behind a stack of sheets. Then he resumed his journey toward the inner rooms of the palace, knowing he now blended with the other servants.
Whenever Ament was out of sight of other servants, he ducked his head into rooms, but as the morning wore on he still had not found any trace of the king. He was turned away from one section of the palace by two huge Kushite soldiers armed with spears, and he suspected the royal rooms lay beyond. There seemed to be no way past the guards, so he wandered away, wondering whether he should try approaching the royal suite via the gardens. Then an overseer stepped out of a room, stared at him and beckoned.
"You. Come here."
Ament quailed, wondering if he should turn tail and run.
"Are you deaf? Come here. I need those cups."
Ament approached the overseer, casting his eyes downward.
"Bring them in and put them on the table," the overseer snapped. "Quickly now, and don't look at anyone. There's no need to bow or abase yourself. Just put the tray down and go and stand by the wall."
The overseer gave Ament a slight push in the small of his back and he tottered into the room, recovered his balance, and set the tray and cups down on a table where jugs of wine were set out, together with plates of fruit. Keeping his head lowered, he walked to the edge of the room and stood with his back to the wall. Only then did he raise his head and look at the people with him.
Sethi, the Southern General, was staring across the room at him, while only a pace or two away, their faces half-turned away, were Tjaty Khaemter and King Menmire Amenmesse.
Chapter 35
Year 4 of Userkheperure Seti
Year 3 of Menmire Amenmesse
The next morning, Tausret rode back to Ramses' camp once more, past her own tired troops and through ranks of nervous rebels fully armed and prepared for battle. She smiled and waved to the men, asking after their families. Ramses came out of his tent yawning and red-eyed, and scowled at Tausret as she dismounted from her chariot.
"Why the noise all night, Lady? Several times I thought you were going to attack us."
"You must forgive my men, Lord Ramses. They are city born and bred and jump at every little noise out here in the countryside. An owl flies over and they see a ghost, a jackal howls and they hear a demon. A superstitious lot."
"Well, what now?"
"I suggest we carry on with our discussion. I believe you were going to tell me why you believe my husband Userkheperure Seti is a false king."
Ramses nodded and ordered a servant to bring beer and bread to his tent. "Unless you have already eaten, Lady?"
Tausret smiled. "I will willingly eat with you, Lord Ramses."
Despite her avowed intention of discussing Ramses' reasons for rebellion, Tausret turned the conversation aside as they ate, recounting anecdotes and amusing trivia of court life, and asking questions about Ramses' home life. She discovered he had a grown son from a previous marriage and an infant one from his present one.
"Sons are a blessing," she murmured.
"Yes, I will have someone to succeed me," Ramses said.
"How is that going to work, Lord Ramses? You are the younger son, I understand, so if you were to succeed in your rebellion, your brother Meryma'at would be king. Where does that leave you?"
"I would be Tjaty of the combined Kingdoms."
"That would be enough for you? I'd have thought someone of your ability and ambition would want more."
"It is enough for me, Lady. The gods made me the younger son, so I am ready to take up the position they made me for."
"What if the gods made you for greater things, Lord Ramses? By settling for less you could be going against the will of the gods."
"I see what you are doing, Lady Tausret, and it is not going to work. You will not turn me against my brother."
"I did not think so, but..." Tausret smiled and spread her hands in a deprecating shrug. "I had to see if it was a possibility."
"As long as we understand I am loyal to my brother, we can continue this discussion."
Tausret glanced outside the tent at the position of the sun. "Perhaps it is late enough we could enjoy a cup of wine together."
"An excellent idea. You know, Lady Tausret, I enjoy talking to you. I had no idea women could be so intelligent. Perhaps when this is all over you would consider retiring and becoming the wife of the Tjaty?"
"An intriguing idea," Tausret murmured. "There is something I must ask, Lord Ramses, of a delicate nature." She cleared her throat and lowered her eyes. "Campaigning is so much more convenient for men, whereas women have...ah, needs for privacy."
Ramses frowned. "I'm not sure I understand, Lady. Unless...ah, you need somewhere private to...yes, we have no women with us, but I shall have my men erect some screens for your use."
A little later, Tausret had used the screened area to relieve herself and was back in the tent enjoying a cup of wine and some dried dates and figs on a platter. "I really can't fault your hospitality, Lord Ramses."
Ramses smiled and said, "Have you thought about my proposal, Lady Tausret?"
"Please allow me a little more time, Lord Ramses. It is a big decision to make, and we don't even know if the circumstances will make such a union possible."
"I feel confident they will."
"Then again, I am Queen at the moment. Will I be content to be just a Tjaty's wife?"
Ramses tutted. "You are trying to turn me against my brother again."
"Not at all, but if everything is as you say, perhaps I should look to your brother for my future well-being."
"My brother has already promised his wife that she
will be queen."
Tausret sighed. "Well, in that case, tell me why you think that my husband, King Userkheperure, is a false king."
"Nothing simpler, Lady. The first-born son has always inherited the throne of his father."
"Baenre Merenptah was thirteenth son of Usermaatre."
"Now Lady, you know that before he could inherit, his twelve elder brothers had to have died. The eldest surviving son always inherits. And Baenre was the cause of all Kemet's problems. His eldest son was Messuwy, and he should have inherited his throne. Instead the younger son Seti claimed it, contrary to all custom, and now wars brother against brother, Kingdom against Kingdom to prevent Messuwy, Menmire Amenmesse, from claiming his rightful place."
"So you believe Menmire is the rightful king? Your brother is not claiming the throne after all?"
Ramses frowned. "No, that is not what I am saying at all. Neither brother is supported by the gods and must be removed."
Tausret thought for a few minutes. "I can see why you claim Userkheperure should not be king as he is the younger brother, but why do you say Menmire as elder brother should not be either?"
"Because he rebelled against the anointed king."
"But you say Userkheperure was not the legitimate king?"
"That's right."
"But if he wasn't the legitimate king, then how is Menmire doing wrong by rebelling against him?"
Ramses stared at Tausret.
"But if Userkheperure is not really the king, then Menmire must be; or if Menmire is just a rebel, then Userkheperure must be king."
Ramses shook his head, frowning. "You are a woman and don't understand these things."
"If one or other of the present kings of Kemet are legitimate, then what of you and your brother, Lord Ramses? By rebelling, you are putting yourselves in the wrong. The gods will not support you."
"You don't understand, Lady Tausret."
"Lord Ramses, you said earlier that Baenre Merenptah was the cause of all Kemet's troubles. Does that mean that the great Usermaatre Ramesses is our guide in what is right? After all, he was so loved by the gods that he reigned for sixty-seven years."
"Yes, yes you have it," Ramses said, relief evident in his voice. "Usermaatre was right to leave the throne to his eldest surviving son, but Baenre was not. The choice he made was a bad one."
"Let me be sure I understand you, Lord Ramses. Usermaatre's decisions as regards the succession were correct, but Baenre's were wrong?"
"Yes. There you have it, Lady Tausret. Those wrong decisions have led to Kemet's present troubles and what Meryma'at and I seek to do is restore Ma'at by putting the descendants of Pareherwenemef, Usermaatre's third son and the eldest son to have living descendants, on the throne. It is as if it was a return to the days of the great Usermaatre."
Tausret nodded, and a small smile crossed her face. "Then would it surprise you to learn, Lord Ramses, that it was the great Usermaatre himself who put my husband on the throne?"
Ramses stared. "How can that be when he was no more than a child at the time of Usermaatre's death and Baenre his named successor?"
"Khaemwaset was Usermaatre's favourite son, agreed?" Ramses nodded and Tausret continued. "When Khaemwaset lay dying, Usermaatre extracted a promise from Baenre that Khaemwaset's line would continue on the throne."
Ramses frowned again. "He had two sons, Ramesses and Hori. Ramesses died during Baenre's reign, and Hori became Hen-netjer of Ptah at Men-nefer. The present Tjaty is his son. Did he mean that Tjaty Hori must become king?"
"You forget he had a daughter called Isetnofret."
"A daughter cannot become king."
Tausret smiled. "Not often, but she married a king. She was the wife of Baenre and their son is Userkheperure Seti, our present king in the north. Menmire Amenmesse in the south is an older son, but by Takhat, Baenre's other wife."
Ramses nodded slowly, his brow furrowed in thought. "I think I see the path of your argument. You are saying that Userkheperure is descended from Khaemwaset, where Menmire is not."
"Exactly. Baenre was a legitimate king, inheriting as eldest surviving son and by Usermaatre's orders, and my husband Userkheperure is also legitimate, inheriting by Usermaatre's direct order. That is why Baenre named him Heir, despite being the younger son."
"Y...yes, I see this now," Ramses muttered.
"So, if you seek to depose my husband, the legitimate king, you array yourself against the gods and Ma'at."
"I see this now, but what can I do except hurry to meet my brother Meryma'at and apprise him of this knowledge."
"It is too late for that, Ramses son of Ratep. By now, the king will have met your brother with two battle-hardened legions and either captured or killed him. This rebellion is over."
Ramses paled and started to his feet. "You have kept me here talking when I should have been marching to help my brother. You shall die for this."
"And destroy your family?" Tausret asked, though her heart beat faster at the threat of death. "Why do you think I marched to meet you with a tiny force that could not hope to win any battle? I was confident that I could show you the folly of your rebellion, and by your own admission, I have. Go home, Ramses son of Ratep, and tend to your estates. I will tell the king you were misled, and he will leave you alive. Harm me, though, and you know that the anger of the king will wipe your family from the face of Kemet, and your name will be a curse on the lips of strangers for a thousand years."
Chapter 36
Year 4 of Userkheperure Seti
Year 3 of Menmire Amenmesse
Ament felt as if his heart had stopped within his chest and his breath caught in his throat. His glance darted to the table, hoping to see a weapon he could use, for at any moment Sethi would recognise him as one of the enemy commanders and raise the alarm. Then all hope would be gone of his completing his mission. He saw nothing on the table save a pottery jar of wine and imagined bringing it down hard on Amenmesse's head. It might be enough, he thought. He tensed his muscles, working out how many steps he needed to get to the table, and then on, jug in hand, before anyone could stop him.
Sethi turned away, back to answer a question the king put to him, and Ament sagged against the wall, feeling sweat break out on his trembling body. He heard a low hiss of disapproval from the overseer and stood up straight again, turning his attention to the three men drinking wine from the cups he had brought in.
"There's nothing I can do without more men," Sethi stated. "I need at least another five thousand to be sure of conquering the northern legions."
"Khaemter," Amenmesse said. "That is your responsibility. Find my general the men he needs."
"Easier said than done, my lord. I've scraped the oil jar of the last dregs for his present army." The Tjaty sketched a mock bow toward General Sethi. "Perhaps if you hung onto your men, we wouldn't have this problem. From what I hear, two men in every five have deserted within three months, and another is dead from wounds or starvation."
"Don't tell me how to manage my men," Sethi said, glaring at the other man. "I don't see you managing an army in the field. You just sit back here in Waset eating and drinking and enjoying the palace women."
Khaemter laughed, though bitterness crept into his voice. "I could scarcely do worse than you. You had the northern army on the brink of defeat and you let them slip out of your grasp. As for managing an army in the field, have you forgotten I was military commander in Kush before I was appointed King's Son?"
"With able officers to do your bidding, anyone could succeed there against tribesmen. Try using those same tribesmen to beat trained legions."
"But that is what you are asking Khaemter for, isn't it?" Amenmesse asked. "Another army of Kushite tribesmen?"
"I'd rather they were Kemetu farmers than tribesmen, but if they must be, at least turn them over half-trained. The last lot wouldn't listen to orders and ran at the first sign of trouble."
"I heard about that," Khaemter said. "You impaled a hundred and flogged five
times that number." He turned to the king and shook his head. "And he wonders why he has so many desertions."
"I have to maintain discipline," Sethi grumbled. "All I ask is some properly trained soldiers and I'll deliver Ta Mehu to you, Majesty."
"It doesn't sound like too much to ask," Amenmesse said. "Find the men, Khaemter, and make sure at least some of them are Kemetu. Perhaps you could strip the city of its Medjay. They'd make passable soldiers."
"If I take the Medjay, crime will go up."
"You think I care about that?" Amenmesse asked. "If the choice is between having no crime in Waset and no kingdom either, or lots of crime but gaining a kingdom, which one do you think I will choose? I have no interest in commoners unless they can be turned into soldiers. Find me those men, Khaemter. That's an order."
Khaemter accepted the inevitable. "Yes, Majesty."
Sethi smirked and turned the conversation onto other matters, demanding more equipment, armaments, and women for his men's enjoyment. The arguments followed a similar path, with Khaemter protesting that the southern kingdom could not afford any more, and Amenmesse ordering him to find what Sethi needed.
"You cannot order free women of Kemet to open their legs for tribesmen," Khaemter stated. "It's bad enough you've forced the city prostitutes to work for half pay, but there are decent women out there, wives and daughters of loyal Kemetu, who have suffered rape by our army."
"I'd have thought they were grateful for a lusty man," Sethi said with a grin. "Some of those tribesmen are remarkably well endowed."
"You really have no idea, do you?" Khaemter asked. "Your attitudes are turning the common people against us. Women don't enjoy being raped, and their men are angry. Sooner or later they're going to do something about it."
"All the more reason to have a strong army then."
Ament listened to the discussion with ill-contained excitement. It seemed as if the southern kingdom was on the brink of falling apart, and all it needed was a good strong push. Killing Amenmesse would be that good strong push, for while the common people might still support the king, it was evident they hated his ministers for the hardships they visited upon men and women.
