The Awakening Aten

by Aidan K. Morrissey

‘May God be your shield and armour my friend,’ he prayed.

  chapter four

  The Army ships didn’t stop at Ineb-Hedj as Kha expected. They drew close to the now familiar white walls of the city, but no attempt was made to move across the river to the docks.

  ‘Are we not to collect the King and Prince Thutmose?’ he asked the man seated beside him.

  His companion was the only other non-military person on board. An old man, he was still powerfully built. His hands, the strong, calloused hands of a stone mason, his name was Minmose. He carried the title of ‘Overseer of Works’ and had travelled with the previous King, Thutmose III, on several of his campaigns, against the Naharina, including the battle at Megiddo against the King of Kadesh. His job; to record the exploits of the Kings and ensure their victories were represented to the satisfaction of the King. Minmose oversaw the creation and erection of the northern and southern boundary stele, marking the extent of the Two Lands.

  ‘They won’t travel with the likes of us,’ he said, his voice as rough and gruff as his hands. ‘We’ll march overland once we reach the end of the river. The King and his party will sail along the coast and meet us somewhere near the battleground. That way, spies will just think we are a normal replacement force allowing the troops, currently stationed in the area, to come home. If the King was travelling with us there would be no doubts about his intentions.’

  As the boat sailed past the white walled city, they could hear the sound of the music and drums of celebration.

  ‘That will be the King making a great show of being present at the opening of the harvest celebrations and ceremonial offerings to Min. Our friends in the east must be kept in the dark about his plans. They should not know about the King’s new seafaring military ships. Strong enough to withstand the sea and carry troops and equipment, they’ll sail along the coast out of sight of land and will meet with us at a preassigned place.’

  Kha looked closely at Minmose as he listened to the man’s words.

  ‘Did the King tell you all this?’ he asked the old man when he had finished.

  ‘By the gods, no.’ he replied. ‘The King has never spoken directly to me. I just know the way he works. He learned a lot from his father who was the greatest warrior in the history of the world. I should know, I saw him in action.’

  ‘Tell me, Minmose, why have I been brought along? It seems to me that you’re more than capable of doing what I’m being asked to do. Why did the Prince bring me?’

  ‘I told you Kha, I know the way the King works, not what he thinks. Maybe he believes my useful days are coming to an end and he wants to replace me. Maybe this trip is more dangerous than we are being told and he wants a spare in case something happens to one of us. Just be patient, all that the gods have ordained to pass, will indeed pass. Do you pray to any particular god?’

  Kha put his hand into the pouch he had tied around his waist and produced the carving of Shai he carried with him always.

  ‘Ah the god of destiny and fate,’ said Minmose. ‘Let’s hope he and Renenet are on our side.’

  *

  The boat and those following moved on, until they could go no further on the water.

  ‘Time to march, soldiers,’ the boat’s captain called out.

  The soldiers disembarked and orders were passed from Commander to troop commanders, from there to captains and then down the line finally to the rank of ‘Greatest of Fifty’ who made certain that his cohort obeyed everything to the letter.

  As his boat approached the end of their journey, Kha stood at the prow. He watched the commotion along the river bank. Large numbers of soldiers were already there, together with an even larger number of horses, handlers struggling to keep some of them under control. Kha heard horses whinnying and snorting, men shouting and cursing, the sound of metal being sharpened against stone. Kha had never been this close to a military encampment; he had not imagined so much noise.

  ‘Are you ready, Kha?’ Kha knew the voice belonged to Minmose even without turning.

  ‘I don’t know what I should be ready for,’ he said. ‘This is all so strange to me.’

  ‘There is a first time for everyone Kha, it may not be as bad as you think, then again it may be even worse. Come, let’s get off this boat, I need my feet on firm ground.’

  As Kha was about to disembark, the Commander of the troops approached the gang plank. Kha had seen him on the boat, his dress and jewellery marked him out as a high-ranking noble, if not a member of the Royal family itself. Kha stepped back and bowed low as the man passed.

  ‘I hope you’re going to keep out of the way like that for the rest of this journey,’ he said.

  Kha assumed he was talking to him, but couldn’t be sure as his eyes were facing down. It was of no consequence, the man didn’t wait for an answer. Kha walked off the boat, not knowing what to do. Looking around it seemed he was the only one who didn’t. Lines of soldiers were unloading the chariots and other supplies from the boats.

  Men were saddling horses with the new saddle yolks. Another of Khety’s ideas, these were more secure for the chariots and more comfortable for the horses. Having perfected his design, Khety showed it to Yuya who, in turn told the Crown Prince, who informed his father, who had one crafted.

  Kha smiled to himself.

  ‘Ideas pass up a chain and orders come in the other direction,’ he thought.

  It seemed symmetrical to Kha and he liked symmetry. He was constantly trying to teach his son Djoser about such things, but at his age Djoser was more interested in trying to balance the small rocks one on top of the other instead of laying them out in symmetrical patterns.

  The trials with the new saddle were so successful that the King ordered them made for all the army, as well as some very ornate ones for his personal racing and hunting chariots. Although the saddles gave greater control and manoeuvrability to the chariots, they were, as yet, untried in battle. The enemy didn’t have them. The King was anxious to prove their worth.

  Kha wandered aimlessly for what seemed like hours. He tried to enter into conversations with various soldiers but they just ignored him. He eventually walked away from the noise and moved to where he had seen Minmose sitting in the shade of a tree.

  ‘I’ve tried talking to some of the soldiers but they just don’t want to know.’

  ‘You’re nothing to them, Kha. You’re not an officer they have to obey. You’re not a quartermaster who feeds them nor the paymaster who pays them. They are professional soldiers who don’t make friends easily, particularly outside of their own squad. They work and fight in bands of ten, these ten are normally close friends. Five of these bands are then grouped together to form a fifty. There will be some friendship between the bands but not much. Five of these fifties are then formed together to form the two hundred and fifty. These men may never speak to all of their comrades in this group, why would they talk to you?’

  An officer was sitting beside Minmose and joined the conversation.

  ‘The strength of the army is the bond between the soldiers. Each ten knows what it must do within the fifty, and the fifty in the two hundred and fifty and so on up to the division which is generally five thousand in strength.’

  ‘How is it possible to control five thousand?’ asked Kha.

  ‘Discipline, and constant training,’ came the reply. ‘It is not possible for a single voice to be heard by so many, so there needs to be a chain of command. The King is the Commander and, before a battle, he will consult, or instruct his Generals as to what is to be done. The Generals may not always agree, as happened in Megiddo, but they must obey the King’s orders.’

  ‘They wouldn’t remain Generals for long if they didn’t agree,’ interrupted Minmose.

  The officer continued without pause. ‘Whatever the outcome, the King’s decision is always right. At least that is what we learn from history and the mural dec
orations it is your jobs to compose. You must always ensure the stories reflect those events from the King’s eyes. Once the orders are settled, the generals pass them down to the senior officers, who in turn pass them down until finally the leaders of the Fifties let their troops in on the plan, or at least that part they need to know.’

  Several short shrill blasts on a sheneb, denoted that the army was ready to march. The officer, who was sitting under the tree, stood and walked toward the chariots.

  ‘You two had better follow me. I’m told you will be travelling with the charioteers.’

  This officer ushered Kha into the chariot beside him.

  ‘I have room in my chariot for this part of the journey,’ he said. ‘You should ride with me.’

  Kha did so with some trepidation.

  ‘I’ve never ridden in a chariot before. Is it dangerous?’

  ‘No. Hang on tight and don’t move about too much, it upsets the horse.’

  Kha climbed on board. This chariot was different to the others around him. It was smaller, was not heavily armoured and didn’t have the arrow and spear pouches of the war chariots. Kha assumed therefore that this officer was a messenger, not one of the fighting men. He felt safer believing this.

  Kha watched as the men formed up into large groups which he guessed to be the two hundred and fifty. His charioteer, along with ten others, held back as the others moved on, led by the noble Commander who had issued the warning to Kha. They moved at a slow pace, clearly the army would move as a unit, so the chariots would have to keep to the pace of marching men. There must have been about two hundred chariots and it took some time before they were all in formation and the men could start to march.

  ‘Why are they set out in that order?’ Kha asked as the men started to march along the road. His charioteer made no movement to join the others.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, there is a group of soldiers with spears, followed by archers, then those with the khopesh, followed by spears, archers, khopesh and so on.’

  ‘I’m pleased you are being so observant, Kha. It’s an indication that the Crown Prince didn’t make a mistake in choosing you for this particular job. It’s for the protection of the archers. Next to the chariots, they are our most important asset in battle. With their composite bows they can cause panic in an enemy from great distances, but they have one weakness.’

  ‘What is that?’ asked Kha, who could not see any lack of strength in the rows of Nubians passing by his position.

  Each was strongly built, particularly across the shoulders and arms. Kha had learned, from Khety, about the war bows made from wood and bone which needed to be unstrung when not in use to prevent them going out of shape and it taking two normal men to restring them. Kha believed the men in this army could each string their own without help.

  ‘Their weakness is that they need two hands for everything they do. They don’t have a spare hand to carry a shield. So if the column comes under attack the two hundred and fifty in front and that behind, will form a shield wall around them to protect them and allow them to string, arm and fire their bows.’

  ‘This is why I could never be a soldier, who thinks of these things?’

  ‘Generals, but only after soldiers have been massacred because no-one had thought of it before. Lessons are learned the hard way in the army, and it’s normally the soldier on foot who pays.’

  When the last of the soldiers had passed by, the remaining war chariots formed up behind. Kha’s charioteer waited until that was done.

  ‘Hold on,’ the charioteer warned and flicked the reins of the horse that immediately went from a walk to a gallop. The chariot lurched backwards as it did so and Kha’s grip, which had already been tight, became tighter. He was not enjoying the experience. The chariot didn’t stop nor slow down until he was almost at the front of the whole column. The driver eased back on the reins and brought his chariot alongside the Commander.

  ‘All is in order with the column,’ the charioteer said without waiting to be asked to speak.

  ‘Thank you, Sir. Let us hope we arrive without incident, it will be a nine day march I feel.’

  With that, Kha’s chariot wheeled away but, instead of joining the column, it sped up and raced along the road, dust trailing behind it. It didn’t take long before the column disappeared from view. It was impossible to have a conversation while travelling at high speed so they journeyed in silence, Kha’s head filled with unanswered questions. A small village came into sight, and as they entered, the horse slowed to a trot. The charioteer spoke for the first time.

  ‘Is your throat as dry as mine? Let’s break for some beer and bread to soak it up.’

  He didn’t wait for a reply; he stopped the chariot and jumped off. The horse simply stood and made no attempt to move. Kha gingerly stepped down. His legs were shaking, he felt unsteady on his feet. This feeling was worse than when he got off the boat. Kha followed the charioteer toward a house across the road. Something was handed through the doorway and, shortly afterwards, a middle aged man brought out two jugs of beer. Behind him, a woman of about the same age carried two loaves of flat bread. The charioteer smiled as the man handed him his jug.

  ‘We have plenty more if you want it. You only have to ask. The payment you made is very generous.’

  The charioteer didn’t answer. He just raised the jug in salutation to the man and drank thirstily from it. He then took a piece of bread.

  ‘Both beer and bread are of good quality, and I thank you,’ he said, still chewing.

  Kha could wait no longer. ‘Did I hear the Commander call you ‘sir’?’

  The charioteer laughed. ‘Perhaps you did, but don’t be concerned, he is just a very polite man. His use of the word ‘Sir’ could have had very many different meanings. He might one day even refer to you in that way.’

  ‘I doubt that,’ said Kha.

  ‘That might depend on who you’re with,’ replied the charioteer. ‘Anyway, how are you enjoying the ride?’

  ‘Not greatly, I’m not sure I care for the speed.’ Again the charioteer laughed.

  ‘Speed? That was a canter; I have a horse that can make this one seem as if it’s only walking.’

  ‘Why did we leave the column?’ Kha was determined to have at least some of his questions answered. ‘Would it not be safer to have remained? All my belongings are there.’

  ‘Your belongings, and we, are very safe Kha, don’t worry. We’ll join the column in a few days, when it’s nearer the meeting point. Until then just relax, look at the world around you. Take in the country and the people; this is what you may have to reproduce on a wall one day.’

  ‘But who are you?’ Kha couldn’t resist the main question that had been running through his mind.

  ‘Too many questions. I’m just a soldier, who has some free time before he goes with his King into battle. Now shall we have another jug of this man’s excellent beer?’

  *

  The climate in the Two Lands was unforgiving. The column of heavily armed soldiers sweltered in the heat of the sun. For nine long days they walked, taking brief water stops every four hours. Each man had been issued with his rations for this first part of the march as a supply train might have raised suspicions. The rations would be renewed once the King and his contingent joined them later for the final push against the Naharina. Sleep was uncomfortable; it felt as if they were being eaten alive by sand flies. Added to this, long days walking in the heat carrying weapons and rations, it was not comfortable being a soldier.

  Kha and his companion had it much easier. They re-joined the column on the last day of the march. As they reached the long line of soldiers from the rear, Kha’s charioteer rode straight to the front of the column. Some of the other charioteers waved as he passed. He went straight to the commander leading the army.

  ‘It seems, from the state of the c
olumn, that you haven’t had any trouble on your journey,’ he said.

  ‘We’ve had no particular problems.’

  ‘Good, I’m sure the King will greet you, and that news, warmly,’ replied the charioteer. He didn’t wait for any response and wheeled his chariot away returning to the end of the column.

  The days Kha had spent on the chariot had been enough for him to have got used to the speed and motion, and he enjoyed the company of the young officer. So much so that when, at the next stop for water, he was filled with disappointment when his charioteer came over to him.

  ‘So, Kha my friend, it’s time for me to take leave of you. You will ride on with this charioteer for the rest of the way. He is stationed at the rear of the column so he will be going nice and slowly. Thank you for your company, and I trust you’ve enjoyed the last week as much as I have.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Kha. ‘It’s been informative and I’ve learned much from the stelae and Temples we’ve visited. It will help me in whatever work the King wishes me to do after this war is over.’

  ‘Good, that was our intention, but I hope you also enjoyed the beer. Now my leave is over and I must return to my work. I’ll see you soon Kha. Safe journey.’

  With that he was gone, leaving a trail of dust in his wake. Kha turned to his new companion.

  ‘I’ve spent days with that man and other than discovering his name to be Tjay, I know nothing else about him. Who is he?’

  ‘If he wanted you to know anything else he would have told you. He is a soldier in the service of the King, and a good friend to have.’

  The rest of the journey was in silence between the two men, however, a marching column is never silent, and Kha was happy just to watch the countryside passing by, taking in the sounds of marching feet, swords and spears knocking against shields and the occasional, strange sounding song from the Nubian archers.

  The Aten was still high in the sky when Kha saw the shoreline over to his left. Soon he tasted the salt in the air and noticed the particular smell associated with briny waters. Kha had never before seen the sea. He felt as excited as a child on a new adventure, he kept standing on the tips of his toes in the belief he could take in more.