The Amarnan Kings, Book 4: Scarab - Ay

by Overton, Max

  "Nothing could be simpler," Nakhtmin cut in. "I have the power to sign a treaty of friendship between Kemet and Amurru. The gift of the woman would be a worthy token of that new friendship."

  "What Lord Nakhtmin does not say is that once they have Scarab, they would repudiate the treaty."

  "Do you call me a liar, general?" Nakhtmin asked, his nostrils flaring.

  "Your father does not have a reputation for honesty--and neither do you."

  "Treason!" Nakhtmin yelled. "You heard him. He insults his king and the heir. You will pay for this the minute we are back in Kemet, you and your master."

  "If you believe that, you are a fool as well as a liar," Paramessu goaded.

  "Gentlemen, please..." the Amorite prince pleaded.

  Nakhtmin jumped to his feet. "You forget who I am, Paramessu. I have the power of life and death over you. A king may do as he wishes when dealing with traitors and I promise you, your death will not be a merciful one."

  "That I can believe," Paramessu said grimly. "If your work on Scarab here is anything to go by."

  Abi-Hadad turned to Scarab. "Is this true? Did Nakhtmin do this to your eye? To you?"

  "The orders came from Ay and were carried out by a man called Mentopher, but yes, Nakhtmin bears responsibility for my injuries."

  Abi-Hadad rose to his feet. "Then that will be all for today, gentlemen. I thought Nakhtmin's argument for an immediate treaty a cogent one, but his barbarity makes me think again. I will consider all I have heard and we shall meet again in the morning."

  "But I have not yet made any offer," Paramessu protested. "You cannot make a decision yet."

  "I can offer much more," Nakhtmin said. "Whatever he offers I can match it and more."

  "This discussion has degenerated into an argument and I see no point in continuing," Abi-Hadad said. "We shall resume in the morning." He gathered his aides and Scarab to him and exited the room.

  The Kemetu stared at each other and the captain of the Gubla guard interposed his men. Paramessu shrugged and exited first, leaving Nakhtmin and his men to occupy the hall.

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  * * *

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The Nubian sun bore little resemblance to the nurturing orb that bathed the lower Iteru Valley in its life-giving rays. The disc of the sun gaped like an oven door, its white heat rippling the air and making the dry plains resemble an ever-changing sea in which trees and rocks danced and disappeared. It sucked the moisture from the land, leaving only the trickle of the river to bring a smudge of green to the parched earth. The city of Abu sat on an island in the reduced flow, the trees that clothed it now dry and rustling in the hot breath from the desert. The great rounded granite boulders that gave the city its name rippled with the heat, denying their humped elevations to any would be lookout. The water level was so low that the western arm had almost dried up, leaving the city vulnerable.

  Two men watched the city from the cliffs of the escarpment through which Iteru ran, the cataract itself reduced so much that it became impassable by boats. One of the watchers was a Nubian, tall and dark with the dusky blush of the grape colouring his muscular limbs. He was clothed in very little apart from a loincloth and leopardskin bracelets, but he stood with an air of authority, staring down at the Kemetu outpost with a keen and calculating gaze. The man with him was shorter and fairer, though if viewed alone may easily have been taken for a native. His skin was dark copper, burned by the fierce glare and he wore a Kemetu military kilt and plain linen headdress. His sole ornament was a small gold pectoral. The look he cast at the city of Abu was one of hatred.

  "It can be taken," the Nubian rumbled. "Crushed like a ripe melon."

  "Yes," agreed the shorter man. "But it won't be easy." He limped into the shade of the cliff and sat on a boulder, easing the pain in his leg. Beneath the sun-darkened skin lay a hundred paler scars, criss-crossing his body and limbs. "You have not seen the Kemetu soldiers fight, Din'ka."

  "If they fight well, then there will be great sport," Din'ka said, his teeth flashing white. "Unless you do not have the stomach for it." He saw the scarred man frown and threw him a morsel of respect. "I mean no insult, Menkure of Kemet."

  Menkure's jaw clenched but he fought his anger down, knowing it would serve no purpose. "What of your men, your tribe? Are they ready to face real soldiers? They can conquer ill-disciplined tribesmen but a soldier is a different matter."

  "They are ready. I trained them myself, and I trained them well. Do your part, Menkure of Kemet and I will do mine."

  The guards on the perimeter walls of Abu loathed their duty. Dawn and dusk drew swarms of mosquitoes to the city. They bred in the stagnant waters now lying along the western side of the island city and plagued any inhabitant out of doors. The governor relied on the watchfulness of his troops for security rather than fortifications, but he would have been dismayed to see how few of the overnight watch were patrolling the walls. Most kept to their guard alcoves, tightly clothed despite the warmth of the night and the heat from the fires they clustered round. Smoke was one thing that kept the biting insects at bay, but the accompanying flames destroyed their night vision.

  The Nubians came silently in the dark before the dawn, in that hour when Kemetu vigilance was at its lowest ebb. They crossed the western arm of Iteru nearly dryshod, stepping from boulder to boulder or wading knee deep in stagnant pools. A crocodile took one man, but the spears of those nearest him stabbed down, killing both crocodile and victim before a scream or a splash could alert the garrison. Black shadows slipped between the granite boulders, scaled the low stone walls and washed over the ramparts, bright blades stabbing and cutting. The wall guards went down with hardly a cry and the Nubians swept into the streets of Abu like a silent flood, killing all they found.

  Behind the warriors came the young uncircumcised boys who had not yet earned the right to bear a stabbing blade, and the old men whose fighting days were over. They swarmed into the houses, killing women and children, looting everything of value and putting the rest to the torch. Eventually, it was the flames that alerted the guards at the governor's mansion. The horns rang out stridently and soldiers rushed from their beds to defend the city and their ruler.

  Dawn rose over a blackened city. The Nubians had melted away with the last shadows of night, leaving a handful of their dead and over two hundred of the defenders. More importantly, the treasury at the rear of the governor's residence had been ransacked and several hundred deben of gold in easily transportable 'fingers' carried off. The heavier items and the bulky ones were left behind.

  Menkure and Din'ka halted their men an hour north of the city, on the western bank of the river. The youths and old men had looted much of value from the houses and Din'ka saw to the equitable distribution of this wealth. The gold 'fingers' he was happy to leave for the Kemetu traitor.

  "Why do you want this gold, Menkure of Kemet?" he asked. "It is pretty, I grant you, but useless. Give me bronze or better still the blue iron from the south to fashion my stabbing blades. Your golden blade will fail."

  "My gold will buy many blades. The tribesmen of the western desert, beyond the setting sun, prize gold highly. I will be able to hire a small army."

  "Then you will not need me any longer."

  "I would still like you by my side, Din'ka. There is great wealth in the coffers of every city and town between here and Waset."

  "More of your gold, Menkure? I think my tribe has riches enough for now. I will go south again and enjoy life with my wives and young sons."

  "You must do as you see fit, but there are thousands of fine cattle grazing in the river meadows. Imagine them bearing your mark burnt into their hides."

  "That is tempting," Din'ka mused. "What would be my share of the cattle?"

  "All of them."

  "All? And thousands you say? Kemet is rich indeed." The Nubian chief nodded. "I will come with you until I am fat with cattle."

  Din'ka dismissed the young and old tri
besmen, sending them back to the tribal lands laden with the spoils of Abu. The rest of his men, a hundred warriors, he led downriver with Menkure. After a day's travel though, he took the Kemetu to one side and pointed across the river to a village on the eastern shore.

  "You offer me my fill of cattle, yet we travel on the western bank. We have found no villages or herds here, yet we have seen them fill the land on the east. Let us cross the river, Menkure of Kemet, that I may claim what is mine."

  "We travel on this side for a reason. The tribesmen I am meeting are on this side of the river and further, I have need of your services until then."

  "I have given my word that I will accompany you. Why can I not secure my cattle as we go?"

  "How many of your men are needed to herd a hundred cattle, Din'ka?"

  The Nubian shrugged, his eyes still fixed on the farmland across the river. "At home, a boy of ten could manage them. Here, with strange cattle and unfamiliar land, two men--maybe three."

  "So after we had secure a dozen herds for you, we would have thirty or forty men fewer. I need all your hundred warriors until I reach Ta-senet."

  "And then?"

  "Then we cross the river and you can return down the east side, driving all the herds before you."

  Din'ka grinned. "It would be better to keep all my men and all my cattle together."

  "There are towns on this side too. Nekheb is small and has no garrison. Your men will enjoy themselves there."

  "Yes, but these are your people, your land, Menkure of Kemet. Why do you encourage us to despoil them? Do you hate your land so much?"

  "I love my land, Din'ka, but I will have my vengeance on King Ay for killing my own Smenkhkare, whom I loved as a brother. The people hereabouts did not support him though he was their rightful king. Thus, I do not care what happens to them."

  "So when we reach Ta-senet you will ally with these westerners and do what? Ravage Kemet from Waset to this Great Sea you talk about?"

  "I could not hope to do a tenth of that. Kemet has numberless men that can rise to her defence. No, I will be satisfied if I can take Waset and kill the false king."

  "Then you will become king yourself?"

  Menkure shook his head. "I'm only minor nobility, and I don't have the backing of the army. I couldn't..."

  "You have me, Menkure of Kemet. You have my men and these westerners. If they can help you take Waset and your enemy Ay, will they not be enough to back your claim?"

  "You would stay with me, Din'ka?"

  "As far as Waset at least. After that, we shall see. There must be more cattle in Kemet than just those from here to Kemet."

  Menkure laughed. "Fair enough. At least we understand each other."

  * * * * *

  Maya the treasurer was hauled from his bed in the middle of the night by the king's personal bodyguard and hustled along to the royal apartments. The corridors were deserted and the walls echoed back the tread of the guards' sandaled feet and the slap of Maya's own bare ones. Torches flickered on the walls, the leaping shadows adding to his growing fear. It is never pleasant to be roused from a deep sleep, less so by armed soldiers, but to face a capricious king unprepared was to experience terror. The soldiers said nothing, their faces set in masks, their actions deliberate and uncompromising. They stopped outside the king's apartments and the Captain of the Guard knocked softly before letting himself in.

  "Treasurer Maya, Lord King." He ushered the treasurer into the antechamber and firmly shut the door behind the shivering official.

  "Your...your majesty," Maya quavered, advancing toward the figure sitting in the bed. He bowed deeply and then knelt.

  Ay peered over the edge of the bed. "Stand up, Maya," he said. He shook a piece of papyrus in his hand. "I have had a report from the governor of Abu, and another one here..." He searched around in the sheets and held up another letter. "...from the mayor of Ta-senet. It seems the enemy is upon us at long last. Where is Nakhtmin? I sent for him but the guard said he was out of the city or some such nonsense."

  Maya rose to his feet with a stifled groan. "Er, he is in the north, your majesty, or perhaps even in Gubla by now."

  "Gubla? Where's Gubla? And why is he there?"

  "Gubla is a city of the Sea People, your majesty. You...er, you sent him there to...to buy the woman called Scarab."

  "Another woman? The palace is filled with women. Why does he want another?"

  Maya hesitated, trying to decide how to explain this basic fact to a king growing increasingly forgetful. "Your majesty, Scarab is the lady Beketaten, sister to the last king. She..."

  "I know who Beketaten is, you fool. What I want to know is...is..." Ay frowned and looked at the reports in his hands again. His fingers trembled and his eyes glistened. "My son is in the north and I need him here," he murmured. "I can't remember things."

  "May I be of assistance, your majesty?"

  "Not unless you can command an army, create armed men out of the air or the stones. I am beset by my old enemy and my son is not here to defend me."

  "Which enemy is this?" Maya asked.

  "There is only one - Smenkhkare. He has brought an army of Nubians into Kemet and means to wrest the throne from me."

  "Your majesty...Smenkhkare is dead. Tutankhamen killed him outside Waset."

  Ay stared at his Treasurer. "That can't be right. I...I remember he was taken by a crocodile. They called him Sobek because of it."

  "He was taken by a crocodile fourteen years ago, your majesty, but he did not die - not then. He returned as a pretender to the throne who called himself Son of Sobek. He led an army against Waset but was defeated and killed by his brother Tutankhamen. Don't you remember this?"

  "I...I remember something but...did that really happen, Maya? Yes, it did, didn't it?"

  Maya nodded, his voice firming as he saw how well the king was taking his corrections. "It did, my lord king. May I see the letters? The ones from Abu and Ta-senet?"

  Ay held out the rolled reports.

  Maya scanned them quickly then read them more slowly. "It doesn't say it's Smenkhkare, your majesty. The governor of Abu describes a bearded Kemetu with scars and a limp. The mayor of Ta-senet talks only of Nubians and Libyans--men from the western desert."

  "You see? Scars from the crocodile. Who else can it be but Smenkhkare?" Ay shivered and looked nervously around his bedchamber. "He's coming here, Maya. Coming to kill me."

  "It isn't Smenkhkare, your majesty, for Smenkhkare is dead," Maya replied calmly. "Dead and gone. He isn't coming back. There's one other who fits the description however..."

  "Scarab?" The king's eyes grew wider.

  "Scarab is in Gubla where your son Nakhtmin will buy her from the Amorites and put her to death. No, the person I'm talking about is Menkure, son of Paser."

  "Menkure? Who is he? Remind me."

  "Minor nobility, your majesty. Paser was Overseer of the Wildfowl Reed Beds. His son held no official position, being one of Smenkhkare's drinking companions. A wastrel, your majesty, and not someone to concern you."

  "But he still leads an army. Didn't he...no, perhaps I am thinking...didn't he hold command under Smenkhkare?"

  "And look where it got him. His army was destroyed. Now he leads a handful of ignorant savages and camel herders from Libya. Even Psenamy and the Amun legion would be more than a match for them."

  "So you don't think I should worry?"

  "No, your majesty, but it might be prudent to tell Horemheb to send two legions down to Waset."

  "Horemheb? He hates me as much as Smenkhkare. Why does everyone hate me, Maya? I have tried to be a good king, a fair and just one, putting no one to death without a trial, bringing the old gods back to the people."

  "Pay no attention to what a few traitors think, your majesty. You have many loyal subjects. Horemheb is one of them."

  Ay shivered again. "You don't know him like I do. He accused me of treason in the time of Akhenaten. He tried to become king after the death of Tutankhamen and if I
hadn't acted swiftly, he would have killed me and taken the throne."

  "It doesn't surprise me that he tried, but he is a loyal man. Once you became king he swore to serve you, and he has."

  "How can I trust him? He controls the army."

  "He always has had the army but has he ever tried to use that power? No. He's loyal to the king of Kemet."

  "And to my son?"

  Maya hesitated briefly. "Nakhtmin is heir. Make him co-ruler with you and Horemheb's loyalty will necessarily encompass him too."

  Ay sat in his bed and thought about this at length, while Maya stood patiently, stifling his yawns. At length, the king nodded and swung his feet over the side of the bed, grabbing a kilt from the table beside the bed and wrapping it around his scrawny buttocks. "I will bring Nakhtmin back immediately and crown him. He will defend me against this brigand from the south."

  "Your majesty, he is in Gubla performing an essential task. It might be better to wait until he has Scarab in custody."

  "Who is Sc...ah, yes, of course. Fetch me some water, Maya."

  Maya poured a cup of water from the pitcher on the main table and carried it to the king. "Two legions, your majesty. You will need two legions to defend the city. Have Horemheb send you them."

  Ay drained the water and belched, handing back the cup. "I need to piss. Where is the...?" He looked around for the covered pot. Maya brought it to him and held it while Ay lifted his kilt and directed an intermittent stream of dark urine into the container. "Gods, that's better," he muttered. "What if Horemheb does not judge the situation to be urgent? Or in his best interests?" Ay shook the drops off his penis and tucked it under his kilt again. "He could disobey me and let the brigands do his work."

  "Order him, your majesty." Maya placed the pot on the floor and covered it with the cloth. "Order him to send two legions under their commanders, to place themselves under General Psenamy's command."

  "He won't like that. Psenamy's a fool and incompetent besides."

  "Who is Horemheb to like or dislike one of your commands?" Maya asked. "You're the king and he's a mere general. Command him."