by Overton, Max
"What?" Horemheb stared, his mouth open. He blinked and shut it. "You and Lady Beketaten? I thought the lad was just a by-blow you were being decent enough to provide for."
"It wasn't really a secret, but when Scarab went to join her brother, we thought discretion was advisable."
"Discretion probably saved his life and maybe yours too. Do you realise what you have, Paramessu son of Seti?" Paramessu stayed silent so Horemheb continued. "You have a better claim to the Double Throne than Ay. How many people know of this?"
"My parents, friends of Scarab like...what's the name of the farm boy? Khu? The physician Nebhotep, some of the Khabiru encamped around Zarw. That's about it...oh, the young king knew and probably some of the court."
Horemheb grunted. "Her friends won't say anything and the Khabiru are a tight-lipped lot, for all they are related to Ay. Impress on your parents the need for silence. I have heard no talk of it around the court so it has probably been forgotten. We don't want to bring it to anyone's attention though."
"You said I had a claim on the throne. Are you serious? Could I be king after Ay...or instead of Ay?"
"Put it out of your head. Even if the way was clear I would take it myself." Horemheb grinned suddenly. "Maybe after me. We'll see."
Paramessu nodded his acceptance. "Very well sir. I cannot see myself as king anyway. I wouldn't know how to behave."
"Your son Set has a better claim, being born of royalty, so keep his existence a closely guarded secret. If Ay finds out, the boy is dead."
"Yes sir. I will send word to my parents." Paramessu studied his superior. "Will you contest the throne?"
"Do you think I could?"
Paramessu hesitated. "You have the Armies behind you."
"Would they fight for me against an anointed king?"
Paramessu wanted to be supportive and positive but his basic honesty won out. "I don't know sir. Some of them would..."
"But I'd be at the head of a reluctant army. That way lies suicide."
"So there's nothing you can do."
"I didn't say that."
"I'm sorry sir. I don't understand."
"Did you never wonder why I left Ay alone in Waset over the time of the king's burial to come north?"
"Er...well, yes I did, but I assumed you knew something I did not."
"I had an agreement with Ay and I had to come north to kill the Hittite prince Zannanza."
"A Hittite prince? In Kemet? I heard nothing."
Horemheb smiled tiredly. "That's because it was a secret. Our good Queen Ankhesenamen offered herself as wife to a Hittite prince in exchange for protection--from Ay most likely. Her act was treasonable but in the end, it came to nothing. Shubbiluliuma sent his son Zannanza but I had word of his coming, intercepted him and killed him. There will be no Hittite king in Kemet."
Paramessu digested this information. "Is Shubbiluliuma likely to declare war against us then? He must be in a rage."
"He doesn't know I killed him. I was at pains to make it look like the work of bandits."
"You said you had an agreement with Ay that enabled you to come north."
"Yes, I knew Ay wanted the throne but I had to intercept Zannanza, so we made an agreement that he would make no move to become king until I returned and we discussed the issue. He broke his word."
"You know Ay, though, and you've told me often enough he cannot be trusted. How could you accept his promises? Especially with so much at risk."
"He swore on the holy relics of Amun. The Hem-Netjer of Amun administered the oath in my presence."
"Gods preserve us!" Paramessu exclaimed. "He foreswore himself on the body of the god?"
"So it appears, but Ay never was particularly devout. He was an Atenist when it suited him, but threw that god over when it became politically expedient to distance himself from the heretic. What I need to know is if it will make a difference."
Paramessu looked blank. "To what?"
"To the army, of course. If they know Ay has broken a holy oath, will they stand behind me?"
"Possibly." Paramessu frowned and shifted his weight. "Both aspects are weighty matters, too strong for ordinary soldiers. They cannot weigh up the relative merits of obedience to the king and the breaking of an oath by that same king. They may think that disobeying the king is breaking an oath at least as great as the one the king broke. My advice is to call in your legion commanders. Convince the officers and the men will obey."
Horemheb nodded. "That's my thought too. Will you stand with me?"
"Of course."
"I will have to approach Ay from a position of strength. How many legions will I need?"
Paramessu thought. "He has the Amun legion and you left the Re, Heru and Khent-Abt legions in Waset under their commanders, bringing only a hundred men north with you. If Ay has replaced the commanders of those legions you have a mighty army opposing you. I can detach three legions from the Northern Army but that will leave the borders perilously under-manned."
"I do not want it said that I risked Kemet to further my own ambition."
"Then you must take a single northern legion, say the Sept legion, and pray to the gods that your commanders have remained loyal to you."
"Do it, my friend. You are my general and commander of the Sept legion in this enterprise. Get everything ready tonight. We have no time to waste."
"What of the position of Tjaty? That is why I came to Men-nefer."
"I need you with me. The position can remain vacant for a month or two."
The Sept legion left Men-nefer the next morning not long after sunrise. While the ranks stood in the early dawn light, shivering in the chill from the night, Horemheb and the city's priests invoked the blessings of the gods--Heru, his own titular god, Amun-Re as it was his city they were marching on, and Ptah as god of Men-nefer. The priests read the signs and gave ambiguous pronouncements of success on the endeavour. Horemheb chose to interpret this as outright success and portrayed it thus to his commanders and the men, greatly heartening them.
They marched south, along the east bank of the river, following the road through farmland and pasture toward the drier, more barren areas along the edge of the eastern desert. Farmers on the way to the fields, with mattock and hoe, stopped to watch the soldiers and called out greetings. The sight of Tjaty Horemheb at their head excited much comment but the soldiers were under strict orders to say nothing so the farmers' curiosity remained unsatisfied. When the column of men had passed, they shrugged and set off for the fields once more. Their betters had the luxury of marching around doing who knew what, but the fields still had to be tilled and watered, seeds sown and crops harvested.
The road to Waset was a long one and Horemheb fretted at the slow pace. The Sept legion was not one of the older well-disciplined ones, having been drafted from the Sept sepat only a few years previously. Much as he wanted to confront Ay, he knew that it would do him no good to arrive there with exhausted men. Five days brought them to that great crescent bite out of the cliffs that harboured Kemet's newest city, the city of the Heretic--Akhet-Aten. Horemheb was tempted to march into the city where he had confronted and beaten Ay so many years before, but instead marched his men along the cliff tops past the city. It would do no good to stir up old enmities, so he pushed his men onward, picking up the pace.
The king's legions waited two days north of Waset, strung out in battle order across the road. Horemheb immediately halted his men and sent out scouts. Paramessu reported to his Tjaty a little later.
"Two legions, sir. The Amun and the Re. Sir...Hednakht is there."
"Is he, by the gods? Are you sure?"
"I'm not absolutely sure," Paramessu admitted. "The scouts did not see him but they did see the standards of Nakhtmin and Hednakht flying beside a field tent."
"How many men? Are the legions full strength?"
"Close to it, I'd say. Three thousand battle-hardened men. The odds are not with us."
Horemheb laughed. "I've faced worse, but we'll
try and avoid battle. Send a herald to them. Say we want to talk."
The herald returned quickly, bearing a letter of safe conduct for Horemheb and one other officer to meet the commanders of the opposing legions.
"You trust them, sir?"
"We have no choice."
Horemheb and Paramessu trudged across the stony desert toward the waiting legions. The ranks parted before them, forming a lane that led back to a field tent with the standards of the legions and of their commanders prominent beside them. The men in the legions pointed and whispered as the two generals marched past, several calling out greetings and many more lifting their weapons in respectful salute. As they approached the tent, two men came out and stood awaiting them.
"Lord Horemheb, you are welcome if you come in peace."
The Tjaty nodded. "General Nakhtmin, I did not look to see the legions blocking my path to Waset."
"Not blocking you, Lord Horemheb," Nakhtmin replied. "We are here to escort you in honour to the king."
"You need two legions for that?"
"The king holds you in high esteem."
Horemheb scrutinised Hednakht, the commander of the Re legion. "I gave orders for you and your legion to remain within Waset."
Hednakht blushed and looked down at his feet. "Ah...hmm, the king countermanded those orders, sir."
"Will you not come into the tent, Lord Horemheb, General Paramessu," Nakhtmin said softly. "Let us conduct our business in private."
Inside the tent, Nakhtmin poured wine into cups from a jar with his own hands. Hednakht handed two to their guests and took one for himself. Nakhtmin smiled and raised his cup. "Gentlemen, shall we drink to the king?"
"Which king?"
"Why, King Kheperkheperure Irimaat Ay It-netjer, of course. That is why you have journeyed south to Waset, is it not? To kneel in obeisance before him and offer up your oath, as is your duty?"
"I came to address...him, yes. But I am not yet ready to drink his health."
"He is your anointed king, Lord Horemheb. Do you put yourself in opposition to him?"
"I do not oppose the legally crowned king of Kemet," Horemheb said slowly.
"I am glad to hear it. Then will you not drink?" Nakhtmin held up his cup again. Horemheb hesitated and Paramessu followed his lead. Nakhtmin stared. "By Amun-Re, you think the cup poisoned? You think the king would stoop so low?"
"I've known him a lot longer than you have," Horemheb growled.
"Then take my cup." Nakhtmin strode forward and thrust his cup into Horemheb's hand, snatching the other cup, spilling the wine over his own hand. He raised the cup and drained what was left in three long swallows. "You see, I am unhurt." He turned to the table and refilled his cup. "You dishonour me by your suspicions, Lord Horemheb."
Horemheb grimaced. "My apologies, General Nakhtmin. In these disturbed times I see danger everywhere."
"No more," Nakhtmin replied. "The king will restore Ma'at to our troubled land."
Horemheb grunted noncommittally and sipped at his wine. "When did Ay..." he saw the look of indignation on Nakhtmin's face and rephrased his question, "When was the king crowned?"
"Two days after the burial, followed a day later by his marriage to the widowed queen, Ankhesenamen."
"His own grand-daughter?" Paramessu blurted.
"The Great Wife of King Nebkheperure became the Great Wife of King Kheperkheperure."
"Willingly?" Horemheb asked.
"Of course. It is a great honour to be chosen as consort of the king."
"Indeed," Horemheb said dryly. "Who performed the ceremony of anointing?"
"The Hem-Netjer of Amun, aided by the High Priests of all the other gods. Lord Horemheb, you need have no doubt that it was all done properly and according to custom. Kemet has a legitimate king once more."
"May the gods preserve us," Horemheb muttered. "What of his oath on the sacred relics of Amun-Re?"
"What oath is this?" Nakhtmin asked.
"When I talked with Ay..." Horemheb saw Nakhtmin frown again and cut in irritably. "He was not king then so I will refer to him by his name. As I was saying, when I spoke to him before I left for the north, he swore on holy relics that he would not seek the crown until I returned. Apparently, your father has perjured himself before the gods."
"That is a very serious charge. Can you back it up?"
"He took the oath in front of the Hem-Netjer and me."
"Nobody else? No independent witness?"
"Are you telling me he denies it?"
"The king has not taken me into his confidence. Until I hear of this oath from the king's lips I cannot believe that he would do such a thing."
"You cannot believe he would take such an oath, or you cannot believe he would break it?"
Nakhtmin hesitated. "I...I cannot believe he would break an oath sworn by the gods."
"You are biased, Nakhtmin. What of you, Hednakht? Will you stand by a king who blasphemes the gods, holding them of little account?"
The legion commander's face screwed up in consternation. "My...my Lord Horemheb...I...he is the king, sir. What can I do except obey him?"
"He's taken away your testicles already, I see," Horemheb said bitterly. "Well, I expected nothing less. And you, Paramessu? What do you think?"
I live and die with you, my Lord. You know that . "I think we must confront the k...him and demand an accounting."
"Then that is what we will do. Nakhtmin, I accept your offer of an escort of honour. I shall see this man who claims to be king and see if he can explain why he broke a solemn oath."
"And after?" Nakhtmin asked. "Will you offer up your loyalty to King Kheperkheperure without reservation?"
Horemheb stared down at his empty cup and made a face as if he had drunk vinegar. "I will be interested to hear his arguments, but yes, if he can convince me, I will bow before him."
Nakhtmin smiled. "Then let us depart for Waset at once. The king awaits us."Chapter Eleven
The caravan moved slowly through the wastes of the eastern desert, no faster than a child could walk. The camels were laden with trade goods and the people who guided them walked rather than risk overburdening the valuable beasts. The slow pace suited Scarab, for she was in no hurry to face the people she knew in Zarw. First, she had to come to terms with what had happened to her at the hands of Ay's steward, Mentopher, and later, as she was dying of thirst and her injuries in the desert. Without conscious thought her hand crept up to her face. Her fingers hesitated before lightly touching the firm curve of her right eyelid.
I...I lost it. I remember pain...agony...and ...She opened her eye and her fingers touched smooth hard rock where her eyeball should have been. How did that get there? I remember...Geb, the god Geb, one of the Nine of Iunu. He gave me this and healed me, banished my pain. How? Why ? Trudging slowly northward, in the company of men, women and children, the events of the previous day seemed like a dream. The gods appeared to me, saved me. Or did they? Did I just imagine it ? Scarab felt a weight in the folds of her woollen robe and pulled out a heavy gold carving in the form of Khepri, the sacred scarab. Where did I get this then ? She turned it over and saw the many-handed disc of the sun carved into the underside of the symbol of the god. They made promises. The gods of Iunu made promises to me, there in the desert. Moreover, I made promises to one of them--Auset. I promised...what? To be a priestess .
Scarab heard footsteps, the slipping crunch of sandaled feet in the sand. She turned; her mind still filled with the thoughts and visions of the gods and stared uncomprehendingly at the tall bearded man confronting her.
"Lady?" the man said, raising a fist to his forehead in respect. "We are stopping for the night. Would you do me the honour of sharing my hearth?"
Scarab tried to think back to her lessons in the palace two decades before. Her tutors had spoken of the customs of many peoples, but she could not recall anything being said about the tribes along the Deshret wer miri, the Great Sea. The man was waiting for an answer though. "Thank you, P
urna, I accept your hospitality." Will that do? I have implied a host-guest relationship. Does he expect me to bed with him ?
Purna led the way toward where his men were unloading the camels. Several lean-to shelters of stitched goatskin had been erected and the women were already starting the evening meal over small fires in front of each shelter. The man led her over to one of them and sat down, pointing to a place beside him. She sat, modestly arranging the folds of her robe about her.
When she had first walked out of the desert, startling the traders greatly as there was no human habitation nearby, she had been clothed only in a thin linen dress that revealed more than it covered. The men stared, but one woman hurried to her with a light woollen robe, covering her. Scarab had kept her right eye closed, worried at their reaction to her stone eye. They looked at her suspiciously, noting the quality of her dress, and the smoothness of her skin despite the faint signs of many scars.
"Who are you?" the leader had asked.
"I am called Scarab."
"Are you a demon from the desert, for there are no villages within several days travel, and you are fresh and water-fat?"
"No. The gods have guided me. May I know your name?"
"I am Purna of the Shechites. What is your destination?"
"The gods have guided me to you, Purna of the Shechites. Will you give me passage with your people?"
"I must think on this. We will stop here for the night. In the morning, I will decide."
Scarab had slept alone that night, huddled in her borrowed robe against the chill night air. No one had come close to her and she saw Purna and the other men gathered around one of the fires, talking. Every now and then they would look in her direction and she knew they were deciding her fate.
"I am in your hands, O gods of Iunu," she murmured.
In the morning, Purna called Scarab to them and offered her bread and fresh camel milk. She blessed them in the name of the gods and asked, "What is your decision? Will you let me journey with you?"
"Are we putting ourselves in danger by taking you in, Scarab of the desert?"
Scarab chewed and swallowed before replying. "He who put me out to die in the desert believes me dead. No one is looking for me."
