by Overton, Max
"And do what? Do you think they are just going to tell us they murdered her? They're more likely to arrest us."
"Can you think of anything better?"
"Go up to the palace and kill Ay," Khu muttered.
Nebhotep looked around quickly but no one appeared to have overheard. "Don't be stupid. Go and grab a couple of jugs of beer and let's go find an Ibis soldier."
Most of the soldiers were camped outside the city, where the king had allowed them meat and some beer. The troops within Waset, belonging to the Amun legion, had been given nothing, being required to remain alert and sober in case of drunken disturbance by the revellers. Nebhotep splashed a bit of beer over himself and acted drunk, accosting the soldiers on the street corners, asking for the Ibis Troop. When asked why, he said he was looking for his cousin Ament to tell him his wife had given birth to a baby boy. Nobody recognised the name but they said the Ibis were on duty closer to the docks.
"They 'ad special duty yesterday," said one soldier.
On the riverside, where rats sat and cleaned themselves on bales of linen unloaded from the ships, they found two men of the Ibis Troop.
"Yes, that's us. Why do you want to know?"
"We hear you had a special assignment yesterday," Nebhotep said.
The soldiers glanced at each other and shifted their spears, half-pointing them at the two strangers. "Where did you hear that? Why do you want to know?"
"Hey, hey," Nebhotep cried, taking a step back. He grinned and took a drink from his jug. "That's good beer. No, we were talking to the mother of Mene and she said...do you know Mene?"
"We know him. Go on."
"Well, she said you took a girl out into the desert and my friend here...my good friend here..." Nebhotep feigned a stagger and clapped Khu on the shoulder. "Here, have a drink...no, you've got a jug of your own. Where was I? Oh yes, my good friend here had a girl. Lovely young thing..." The physician thrust the jug into the hands of one of the soldiers and mimed the attributes of the girl. "Have a drink. So this girl runs off with a soldier..."
"An Ibis soldier," Khu added. He offered his jug to the other soldier and confided, "I was going to marry her but now she's...she's..."
"Run off," Nebhotep finished. "We thought, seeing as how you are Ibis soldiers, whether the girl you took into the desert might have been his girl. Wa'bet was her name."
"I call her Bet," Khu said and belched.
One of the soldiers sipped at the beer. "We're not supposed to 'ave this, but its 'ot and a little bit won't 'urt." He swallowed again and the other soldier drank too. "It weren't your girl. In fact, it weren't any girl. This 'un was a lady by 'er manners and she was a grown woman too."
The other soldier nodded and passed the jug back to Khu. "Nice lookin' woman...or she was before they started in to 'er. But she wouldn't be your girl, lad, so don't worry none."
"Are you sure? 'Cause she was very beautiful and any man would want her. Reddish hair and..."
"What?" One of the soldiers grabbed Khu by the arm. "What was that you said about her hair?"
"R...reddish, why? It was her, wasn't it? Oh, tell me where my Bet is."
The soldiers looked at one another and the one not holding Khu shook his head. "Can't be." He addressed the young man. "How old is your girl?"
Khu shrugged. "About twenty."
The soldier released Khu with a sigh of relief. "Thank the gods for that," he murmured to his companion. "I thought we was going to have to arrest them." He upended the jug and swallowed, belching loudly as he wiped foam from his lips. "Be easy lad, this was not your girl."
"Are you certain?" Nebhotep asked. "If he doesn't believe you he'll be pestering me all night and weeping on my shoulder. Can you perhaps tell us what this woman was like?"
"We're not supposed to...but, well, seeing as how your friend is so besotted." The soldier lowered his voice conspiratorially and leaned closer. "Our Troop Captain says she was someone from the palace that joined the rebels. She was captured a few days ago and tortured to reveal...things."
"She was in a real bad way," added the other Ibis soldier. "She'd lost an eye, broken bones..."
"But she was a real lady," continued the first one. "Reddish hair, like I says and a looker under the blood. Then when we leaves her, she thanks us as if we had done her a service taking her out there. She had style lad, but she weren't no girl. She was thirty at least."
Nebhotep nodded. "Thank you. It certainly wasn't Bet. She is pretty but she has a mouth like a trooper and is not afraid to use it." He laughed. "Why did you take her to the desert instead of executing her if she was a rebel?"
"Don't know, but we had instructions not to let her die in our care."
"Wh...where did you take her?" Khu asked.
"Why would you want to know? Are you thinking of rescuing her? What are you, one of those rebels like her?" The man's spear came down again, menacingly.
Nebhotep cursed under his breath. "Quite the opposite. We are good loyal subjects of the king. We are only concerned that she might walk out of the desert. I hope you took her far enough out."
"We did," said the other soldier. "And you don't have to worry. She's been out there two whole days now. She's well and truly dead."
Nebhotep left the beer jugs with the soldiers and dragged Khu away, afraid they would see the look of despair and anger on his face. He hurried him around a corner and thrust him against a wall. "Get hold of yourself, Khu. There is nothing we can do now. You heard them. That's a good description of Scarab and they are right--by now the desert sun will have killed her."
"It might not have."
"If it hasn't it will very soon. How would you find her? I doubt even the soldiers know exactly where they left her and she's probably wandered off anyway." Nebhotep drew the young man to him and hugged him. "There's nothing we can do, lad."
"What are you saying? That we forget her?"
"Gods, no." Nebhotep thought for a moment. "Look, she's lying out there unburied, without the rites. We cannot find her body but we can still give her a burial. We will have an effigy made and have a priest open its mouth. Her spirit will find it and be at peace."
Khu sniffed and pinched his nose with his fingers, flicking away the mucus. "Yes, that would be good, but we can't do it in Waset."
"We'll go to Men-nefer. I have friends there who'll loan us enough to start, and I can get more physicians' tools together."
"And after she's buried, I'm coming back to Waset to kill Ay."
Nebhotep decided to say nothing. He started back down the street toward the docks and after a few moments, Khu followed.
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Chapter Fourteen
The palace gardens in old Waset had deteriorated markedly over the years. They had flourished during the long reign of Nebmaetre Amenhotep, when the king had sent expeditions out to the wide-flung territories to bring in rare and interesting animals for the menagerie, flowering shrubs, exotic fruit trees and perfumed flowers for the gardens. Armies of gardeners had created meandering gravel and sandy paths with carved wooden seats in the shade of tall trees, vistas of vegetation and cool ponds alive with frogs and fish. The old king had one queen but many wives and the palace was filled with the chatter and laughter of children. The menagerie and gardens were popular with the women and children of the court but some of the youngsters had been of a more solitary disposition and would wander off to play by themselves.
A young girl, the last-born daughter of Nebmaetre and his queen Tiye, had been one of these. Unnamed in her early years, she had played alone in the dust under a spreading tamarind tree near one of the lily-covered ponds. The girl had loved the animals and birds that roamed free in the gardens and watched for hours the lives of frogs and lizards, the brightly coloured finches and darting dragonflies, the delicacy of the tiny blue butterflies that flitted close to the ground and the strong soaring flight of large orange and black ones around the flowers.
Especially lov
ed were the sturdy dung beetles that gathered scraps of dung and fashioned it into balls that they rolled across the ground. She had watched them at every opportunity, squatting naked in the dust, studying their form, their colour and their industry. Priests had, thousands of years before, likened their labours to that of the sun god rolling the disc of the sun across the cloudless sky and had named the beetle Khepri, which in the common tongue of the people is Scarab. The girl had been watching on this particular day when a man and a woman happened upon her and the lives of all three changed.
The man was the crown prince Akhenaten, the woman his wife Nefertiti, judged by many to be the most beautiful woman in the world, and the girl was...unnamed, though she was full sister to the prince. On that spot, on that day, the prince, although already devoted to his one god the Aten, formulated the notion that he could rid himself of the other gods of Kemet. The heresy of Akhenaten was born in the presence of the child, perhaps even precipitated by her act of protecting the scarab beetle, the repository of the god Khepri. For her pains, the prince named her Scarab, though she later was given a name more suited to her station as a princess in Akhenaten's court--Beketaten, Handmaiden of the Aten. When the child had left, the prince crushed the beetle beneath his foot, deliberately, and when no retribution fell from the heavens, took heart and planned the removal of all the gods of Kemet, so that Aten could rule alone.
Nearly thirty years later, King Kheperkheperure Irimaat Ay sat beneath that same tamarind tree in the palace gardens and looked out over a reed and weed-choked pond. Frogs still swam there but the schools of silvery fish no longer shimmered in its depths, nor did king-fishers hunt in explosions of blue feathers and sprays of green water. The garden beds were overrun with grass and weeds, and the flowers that remained were stunted and dry. The king's mood was as dismal as the garden he surveyed, but try as he might he could not think of a reason for it.
I am King, king of all Kemet, king of Ta Mehu and Ta Shemau, lord of all I survey. I have the power of life and death over all men, I can have anything I want, any woman ...Ay scowled and changed his line of thought. My palace is beautiful, I have the choicest meats and fruits, the richest wine, and my herds are plentiful, the granaries are full and the treasury is bursting--yet I am dissatisfied. Why? What do I not have ?
Ay flicked at a persistent fly with a gaudy fan of brilliantly coloured bird feathers from southern Kush and contemplated calling over one of the many servants that waited unseen, but ever attentive, among the trees of the garden. The fly landed on the seat next to him and the king stared at it as it sat rubbing its backside with its hind legs. His hand darted out and caught the fly between his fingers. Yes. Still got it , he crowed silently. He transferred the fly carefully to forefinger and thumb and brought it close to his face to examine it. It struggled, its large domed eyes staring back blindly.
"What shall I do with you?" he asked it softly. "I am the king and you are the least of my subjects. If I say live, you live. If I say die, you die."
Old fool. Do you expect an answer ?
"You have no worries. You have plenty to eat--there are always dead animals, and dung litters the streets of Waset. You have my garden to live in and not a care in the world. Why should you be more fortunate than your king?"
Because a fly is just a fly, whereas a king is a man and a man expects more than food and comfort. A man expects...expects...what? What am I looking for ?
"Why should I let you live, my friend? If I am discontented, why should you enjoy life? I think I will kill you as a lesson to others not to be happier than their king." Ay increased the pressure slightly and one of the insect's forelegs waved violently.
"Talking to yourself, father? They say that is not a good sign."
"Eh? What?" Ay turned quickly, his fingers relaxing enough for the fly to force itself free. It flew up into the branches of the tamarind tree. "Ah, my son, you startled me. Come here and let me embrace you." Ay got up and put his arms around the man with the insignia of both General of the Amun legion and Tjaty of the Two Kingdoms.
"Who were you talking to, father? Who were you going to kill?"
"Nakhtmin, my son. Come and sit down beside me." The two men sat on the wooden bench and Ay sighed deeply. "Why did no one tell me that being king was so...so boring?"
"Is it? I cannot think why. You can do anything you want."
"Yes, but where is the enjoyment in that? If I was a young man like you I could take pleasure in subtle foods, fine wines, and enjoy a different beautiful woman every night. Instead, my food has lost its savour, I get indigestion when I drink and I cannot...well, I no longer enjoy women like I used to."
"You're getting old, father. No shame in that, it comes to all of us."
"No need to sound so cheerful about it. You will be king soon enough, my son, without wishing your father old before his time. I have years in me yet."
"Father--my lord king, your health and happiness are uppermost in my mind. I pray to the gods that you will be with us for a hundred years yet."
"Only a hundred?" Ay asked with a smile. "Isn't it usual to pray for a million?"
"Who can count that high? I would think myself blessed if I had you as my king for another ten years."
"You're a good son," Ay said, patting Nakhtmin's hand. He looked out over the lily pond, apparently watching a pair of ibis search among the reeds for tasty morsels. "What if I said I'm thinking of stepping aside for you, Nakhtmin. What would you say to that?"
"If you were not my father and my king, I would call you a fool. Who relinquishes power when he has it in his grip?"
"I've found power by itself is not enough."
"What more do you want? You have vanquished all your enemies. Now is the time to enjoy your victory."
"I have been rather successful, haven't I? Three kings lie dead, as does a scheming daughter and disobedient grandchildren. I did not enjoy ridding myself of my own flesh and blood but it had to be done. Then there was that Beketaten, who called herself Scarab. A strange girl, that one. She could have been my greatest foe but in the end, she just fell into my hand. Her death was almost too easy to accomplish."
"You've fought too long to get here, father. Don't give up now."
"Yes, I did fight, didn't I? You are too young to remember those early days. I was younger than you are now when I first fixed my eyes on the throne. I was born a commoner but I had the good fortune to have a sister who caught the king's eye. Riches came, and with it position and power, and then my daughter Nefertiti snared the king's heir. I became the God's Father. It was then that I really believed I could do it. The throne was in my reach. Only a heretic, an idealist and a boy stood before me."
"I've heard a story that you tried to rebel against the heretic and was foiled by Horemheb."
Ay nodded slowly. "I know of what you speak but I wasn't the rebel. Rather, it was my daughter Nefertiti. When I saw she was determined to bring down her husband, I joined her cause solely to protect her and prevent bloodshed."
"Of course," Nakhtmin said, his voice carefully neutral. "And Horemheb?"
"The bastard bluffed me. My daughter was exiled but Akhenaten believed me when I said I was innocent." Ay gripped his son's hand tightly. "Horemheb is your enemy as surely as he is mine."
"Then why do you allow him to live?"
"He is useful still, and the northern armies might rebel if I openly had him killed. But make no mistake; you will have to kill him before you become king."
Nakhtmin chuckled. "I'm a match for him. But tell me, father, when Akhenaten walked out into the desert to die--was that his decision or yours? I am minded of his sister who did the same six months ago."
"Oh, that was me. Mind you, he was an anointed king. I couldn't kill him directly without losing the support of the nobles and the army, so I let his sun god kill him."
"You still believed in the gods then?"
Ay looked away, his fingers plucking at his linen kilt. "I had my doubts, as I have now, but one cannot
be too careful. If one desires to rule a nation of believers it pays not to advertise your unbelief."
"And Smenkhkare?"
"I hired mercenaries, but in the end a crocodile took him."
"Except it did not kill him."
"Officially it did, as you well know. The rebel killed outside Waset a year ago was a pretender, nothing more."
"Tutankhamen?"
"A boy with pretensions. I called the physicians to him but the wound in his leg festered and he died."
Nakhtmin thought about this and then nodded. "So for thirty years you have plotted and schemed to get your hands on the throne of Kemet, but now you have it, it seems worthless."
"Yes. Now that I have absolute power I am too old to enjoy it."
"You are never too old. Rather, when courting a beautiful woman, the enjoyment is often in the pursuit, but once you've had your way with her, your interest wanes."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Your pursuit of the throne was all-consuming, father. Now you have reached your goal, your life is without meaning."
Ay scowled. "Are you content to fill my ears with platitudes or do you have something worthwhile to say?"
"That is for you to decide, my lord king. If I may return to my analogy, when you tire of one woman, you pursue another. Now that you have the Double Throne, go for the next prize."
"Which is what? Another kingdom? Talk sense or keep silent."
"Is that so far-fetched? The rebellion ravaged Nubia. Take your legions down there and establish order. Push the boundaries south and set up your stele that all men may know of your power."
"The viceroy at Sehotep-Neteru is more than capable of governing that wild country. I am no longer young and a long campaign through fever-ridden land would kill me."
"Then look to the north, father. You have strong armies in the north and east. Send the legions to conquer the Amorites and push the borders of Kemet right up to the cities of the Hatti."
"Even if our armies were strong enough, who would get the praise for such a feat? Not me, you can be sure. Horemheb and his dog Paramessu would reap the reward."
