by Overton, Max
"Nothing like that. How many of Horemheb's men will fight willingly against their anointed king, do you think?"
"None, surely, your majesty."
"Don't flatter me," Ay growled. "I want the truth."
"Then those who have nothing to lose."
"Meaning?"
"If their officers threaten them, the immediate harm may outweigh the potential harm. Then again, they may feel that by marching against you under Horemheb's banner they are already doomed. What do they then lose by actually fighting?"
"We must disabuse them. That is where your priests come in."
Bakt bowed, sweating again, and waited for his king to continue.
"I will talk with Horemheb and while I am doing this, your priests will mingle with their legions and tell them that they face the king and his legions but that the king offers a full pardon and a deben of fine gold to any man who joins the king's legions before the battle starts."
"Horemheb won't like that."
"So?"
"He might offer violence to the priests."
"That is a risk I am willing to take. See to it."
Ay's legions settled themselves into place and stood ready. Officers hurried up and down the lines, exhorting their men and cajoling the ones who showed signs of fear at facing Kemet's greatest general. The dust cloud to the northeast approached and passed the city of Iunu, resolving at last into a broad column of soldiers. Trumpets sounded and the column first halted and then spread out to face the army opposing them. For a time nothing happened. Ay's heralds rode out and were met by a squad of horsemen who escorted them into the rebel army. A little later, they emerged and rode back to report to the king.
"Lord Horemheb is willing to meet, your majesty," reported the senior herald. "He proposes a tent be set up halfway between the armies and that each side be represented by two principals and up to twenty guards who are to stand apart fifty paces from the tent. There will be no hostile action taken during the talks, he says."
"Quite reasonable," Ay mused. "Did he say who will be accompanying him?"
"No, your majesty."
"Probably Paramessu. Alright, you will convey my general acceptance of those terms to Lord Horemheb. Tell him we will meet..." Ay glanced up at the position of the sun in the western sky. "...in an hour's time."
The heralds saluted and left. Ay massaged his left arm and flexed the fingers on his left hand. He felt cold and sweaty at the same time and beckoned a servant. "Bring me some wine." He sipped at the cool liquid when it arrived but put it aside with a grimace.
"Is it not to your liking, your majesty?" the servant asked. "Would you like water, or citron?"
Ay shook his head. "Is Usure nearby?" he whispered.
"Usure the physician? Yes, your majesty. Shall I send for him?"
"Yes, but discreetly. I am not sick."
Usure hurried up with a scribe and a servant holding a cloth bundle trotting just behind him. "Your majesty." He bowed, while his servants grovelled on their knees.
"I think I ate bad fish at midday," Ay said. "My chest is hurting. It is probably just indigestion but have you a tonic or something that will help me? I have a battle to fight."
"Of course, your majesty. May I examine you first?"
"Just don't make it obvious," Ay growled. "I don't want the men at all concerned."
Usure leaned forward but made no effort to touch the king. He looked at the king's pale and sweating body, he listened to his breath as he panted and he sniffed to see if any noxious vapours were being released from the king's body. "I concur with the king's opinion--a case of bad fish. The king's face has turned pale like a fish and there is much sweat. The spirit of the bad fish seeks to escape the king's body in water."
"And the pain in my chest? It is down my left arm too. Is that bad fish?"
Usure hesitated. He had seen men with these symptoms before and they seldom lived long. Soon, the king would grab his chest and fall down dead. It was imperative that he be far from the king's side when that happened or his reputation would suffer. Worse still, he could be blamed for the king's death. "It is nothing serious, your majesty, if treated immediately. I will have my servant prepare the ingredients for a tonic and leave it with your servant. The tonic, taken twice an hour, and the prescribed prayers, will cure you. But, your majesty, do not err from my instructions in the least. Offending the gods at this juncture could be costly." He dictated some complex prayers to the scribe and handed them to the servant. "Make no mistake, even with the pronunciation." The tonic too, was complex, and involved some nauseating ingredients and bitter bark. The servant hurried off to brew up the liquid. "A cup full twice an hour, your majesty. Drink it slowly; allow the taste to permeate your senses before it descends to your intestine." It will be a wonder if he can drink it , Usure thought, and those phrases will be hard to manage. Now any mistake they make in my instructions will kill him, not my treatment .
The physician had gone by the time the servant returned with the warm tonic. Ay took a mouthful and gagged, spitting it out. "Gods, that is foul. Is he trying to poison me?" He caught the expression on the man's face and waved his hand weakly. "I'm sure he is not. Read the prayers, I will seek to stomach this filth again."
An hour later, Ay had consumed two cups of the foul tonic and the servant had recited the prayers with each cup, stumbling over the phrases and restarting several times. The king emptied the dregs of the last cup onto the sand and belched loudly, waving his hand ineffectually at the stench that emanated from his mouth. He called for caraway seed and chewed it to sweeten his breath.
"It is time," the king said, rising to his feet. He flexed his left arm and rubbed his chest gently. "I think the physician's potion has worked - that or the prayers. I feel almost no pain now."
Ptahwery brought the royal chariot forward, together with the agreed upon honour guard of twenty soldiers. "The best men I have, your majesty."
Ay nodded. "You will not be accompanying me. Send for Iurudef."
Ptahwery immediately had a soldier run to find the commander of Sobek legion. They waited, Ptahwery looking unhappy, until he could contain himself no longer. "Am I in disfavour, your majesty?"
"Eh? No, no, you stay behind because I can trust you. If Horemheb deals treacherously, I need someone I can trust in charge of the army. Not even Horemheb will dare to kill an anointed king, but he may try something like capturing me to force surrender. If this happens, you are to press forward and defeat the rebels."
"Yes, your majesty. I shall do my utmost."
"It probably will not come to that. I hope the priests of Amun will be able to persuade their soldiers to change sides."
"I shall pray that that comes about."
Iurudef arrived and was apprised of the honour being accorded him. He climbed aboard the royal chariot and took the reins from the charioteer. When the king was settled beside him, he guided the chariot out between the legions and advanced at a walk toward the tent set out on the desert plain. The honour guard ran behind, their faces grim and their weapons at the ready.
A group of men ran out from the ranks of the rebel army, also converging on the tent. Ay arrived first, while the rebels were yet a hundred paces off. He walked into the tent while Iurudef sent the troops to their positions. The legion commander waited outside the tent and saluted Horemheb respectfully as the old man ran up. He looked with curiosity at the woman with him, for she was dressed like a woman of the tribes with long red hair underneath her hood. Without thinking, he grimaced at her scarred face and merely nodded his head as he would to any woman.
Horemheb smiled. "Iurudef, you are coming up in the world. You were a Troop Leader when I last saw you. What legion do you have?"
"The Sobek, sir."
"They need a bit of work. Iurudef, this is Lady Beketaten, now known as Scarab. She is a daughter of Nebmaetre, so show her proper respect."
Iurudef gaped and then swiftly recovered. He bowed much lower, with arms outstretched. "Lady
Beketaten, you are indeed welcome."
"Just Scarab, commander." She looked at the tent. "Is he in there?"
"King Kheperkheperure Irimaat Ay is in the tent," Iurudef said stiffly.
"Easy, lad," Horemheb murmured. "Remember Scarab has royal blood in her veins, not like the rest of us."
Scarab drew back the tent flap and entered, scarcely aware of the two men following her. She stared at the scrawny old man sitting on one of the chairs, clad in the blue leather war crown and adorned with gold.
Ay stared back, hate and anger mixing with the fear showing in his eyes. "Niece," he said. "I had not thought to see you here."
"Sooner or later you were bound to see me, uncle," Scarab replied. "I vowed to hunt you down to your death." Iurudef hissed with dismay behind her but she took no notice.
Horemheb coughed and stepped closer. "Well, now that we have all been reintroduced, perhaps we could get down to the matter in hand. Ay, you cannot possibly stand against me. Step down and I will spare your life."
"But I will not," Scarab added.
"You have ever been loyal to the kings of Kemet, Lord Horemheb," Ay cajoled. "Why do you take the path of rebellion now?"
"For the good of Kemet."
Ay smiled. "As long as the good of Kemet matches your own ambitions."
Horemheb shrugged. "Think what you like, Ay, but your rule ends today, one way or another."
"You will die today," Scarab said softly.
Ay ignored her, focussing on Horemheb. "You are very sure of that. Our forces are equal but I have the upper hand."
Horemheb raised his eyebrows. "How so? My men are fully trained front line soldiers, while yours are new recruits who will piss themselves when we charge."
"Because I am the king," Ay said calmly. "Ambition drives you, and revenge drives this one, but most of your men are loyal Kemetu. They will not take up arms against me."
"You think not? Look outside the tent. I have five thousand men to do my bidding."
"Nevertheless, you cannot feel totally secure otherwise you would have attacked immediately. Why else would you agree to talk?" Ay fidgeted and looked around. He rubbed his brow as if in pain.
"I have regard for the lives of my men," Horemheb said.
"But not for the gods. Are you going to kill your king and start your reign god-cursed?"
"I will not kill you, Ay. You either agree to step down in my favour now - we can arrange for me to be co-ruler for a few days first if it makes you feel better - or I defeat you in battle and depose you. You will spend your remaining days under guard."
"If he does not kill you," Scarab said, "I will."
Ay opened his mouth to retort and then shut it again. He put his hands up to his temples and closed his eyes. "It is hot," he complained. "Where is my wine?"
Horemheb frowned, and Iurudef said quietly, "There is none, your majesty."
Ay shook his head and looked at Horemheb. "What were we talking about?"
"Surrender, to save the lives of hundreds of men."
"Yes, a good idea. How will you surrender? Should I put you in chains?" Ay looked around the tent. "I don't see any. Never mind, my son will find some. Nakhtmin!"
"Nakhtmin is dead," Scarab said. "I killed him."
"Nonsense." Ay smiled fleetingly. "Who are you, young woman? Have I seen you before?"
"He has lost his mind," Horemheb muttered. "Iurudef, is this the king you would follow? Look at him?"
"He is tired, Lord Horemheb, no more than that."
"Look at him, Iurudef--listen to him."
The commander's shoulders sagged. "There have been rumours," he admitted. "Stories that the king's mind wanders, but I have never seen it."
"You have now. Ay, what is it you want?"
The king looked up at the general and his lips quivered. "I...I do not know...but...yes, I want Lord Horemheb dead...I think. Have you seen him?"
"One could pity him," Horemheb said. He turned to Iurudef. "You have a decision to make, young man. Bring your legion over to me and I will let you keep your command. Refuse and I will arrest you."
"I...I cannot do that, my lord. I am sworn to serve the king."
"Serve him how? By precipitating a civil war that may kill thousands of men? Look at him Iurudef; he is not in control of his own mind. How much less does he rule Kemet?"
"I..."
"You have my word he will not be harmed. He will hand over the reins of government to me and retire into comfort."
"She--Scarab--says she will kill him."
"I am in charge, not Scarab."
"What are you talking about?" Ay asked. "I want my physician. I need my tonic. My chest is hurting again."
"Send for his physician, Iurudef," Horemheb said, "But first help me get him outside where all can see him."
"Why, my lord? He would be more comfortable in here."
"I'm certain he would, but I will not have it said I murdered him. Let him die in full view of all."
"Die? He...he is dying?"
"I'm no physician," Horemheb said, "But I have seen the signs before."
Horemheb and Iurudef helped the king out of the tent and sat him in a chair in the hot sun in view of both honour squads. Iurudef sent a man hurrying back to find the king's physician.
"What have you decided, Iurudef?" Horemheb asked. "Will you bring your legion over to me?"
"I cannot, my lord," the young commander whispered. "I must put my oath to the king ahead of everything."
"When the king dies, your oath dies with him. I only hope that you remember your duty to Kemet before it is too late." Horemheb clapped Iurudef on the shoulder. "Come lad, I bear you no ill will. Who is your deputy?"
"Samut. Why?"
"Send for him. If you need to issue orders quickly to your legion, it is better they come through a man of authority."
Iurudef stared at Horemheb and licked his lips. Abruptly, he nodded and sent another man running off. "You are certain the king will die, aren't you?"
Scarab squatted down in front of Ay and looked at him calmly. "You are going to die, uncle. Today. How does it feel?"
Ay frowned, his right hand still rubbing his chest as if the friction could remove the pain. "Who are...you are my niece?" He peered at the red haired woman in the Khabiru cloak. "You look like my sister Tiye. Are you my sister? No...no...you are my niece...Scarab...aah."
The pain suddenly bit deep into Ay and he clutched his chest and slumped back in the chair, panting. The sweat ran off him, staining his robe and kilt. "It hurts."
"You will die soon, uncle. You will join your adopted son Nakhtmin in the underworld. Your hearts will be weighed against the Feather of Truth and be found wanting. You will be destroyed, uncle, eaten up by the monsters..."
"Stop. I command you." Ay stood up and pushed Scarab backward. "I will not listen to you. I am the king and Nakhtmin is my beloved son and heir..."
"I killed him, uncle. Your line--adopted and natural--is at an end."
"You...you killed him? When was this? How?"
Iurudef stepped forward to interfere, to calm the king, but Horemheb restrained him. The general's eye glittered with cruel amusement as he watched.
Scarab got to her feet and faced Ay, her height forcing him to look up to her. "Your brave son tried to kill an unarmed woman and failed. I threw his sword away and severed his head from his body. He screamed like a young girl."
"No!" Ay howled. He threw himself at Scarab, beating at her with his fists. She laughed and thrust him away, so he turned and ran over to the squad of soldiers, snatched a sword from one of them and hurled himself back toward the woman.
Ten paces from her, Ay stopped and dropped the sword, clutching at his robes. He ripped his garment apart and sank to his knees, groaning with anguish. He knelt there, head down for a few minutes. Nobody dared move, but the soldier returned with the tale that the king's doctor had vanished, and then Samut arrived. He stared at the king and then at his legion commander.
"I...I...I...am your...king," Ay groaned. "I...am...Kem..." He fell face forward into the sand and his blue leather war crown rolled across to Scarab's feet.
She picked it up and turned to face the guards of the royal army. "The king is dead. There is no longer any cause for war. Return peacefully to your legion and await Lord Horemheb's instructions."
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Epilogue
"We entered the ancient city of Men-nefer in force, marching the whole Heru legion through the narrow streets to the palace. The other legions loyal to Horemheb remained on the far side of the river, keeping a close watch on the royal army. Iurudef had brought over the Sobek legion at once, but Ptahwery balanced himself on the knife blade of war for nearly an hour, before finally submitting to Horemheb.
The populace did not cheer us into the city. War is never good for the common people and Kemet was still too close to bloodshed for rejoicing that catastrophe had been averted. They stood and watched from doorways and alleys, the only sounds being the tramping of feet and the keen shrill of a hawk hovering high over the city. Horemheb took this as a sign from the gods and immediately assumed the regency. He busied himself with the innumerable aspects of government.
Paramessu delivered Ay's body to the House of Death, where for a time it would share a natron bath with the body of his adopted son, Nakhtmin. Later, they would journey south to Waset and then across to the Great Valley where the kings of Kemet are buried. Orders went out that tombs be hurriedly finished for both men for, whatever their faults, they were royal and should be sent to the gods with due ceremony. Horemheb would bury Ay and open his mouth, so that none would doubt he was the king's lawful successor. After that, he would legitimise his rule by...but I am getting ahead of myself.
My own position in Horemheb's palace was ambiguous. I was honoured as the sole surviving descendant of Nebmaetre Amenhotep, but I was also under strict guard. I was essential for Horemheb's plans and he had no intention of letting me disappear. Within those strictures though, I was allowed considerable freedom. I was reunited with my companions - Khu, Nebhotep, Terrik and Salom - and they were quartered close to my rooms in the women's section of the palace, with a number of female servants. I had my own private gardens and I was allowed to wander the palace and grounds at will. If I wanted to go into the city, I had to leave my friends behind under guard and consent to the accompaniment of a large squad of soldiers. This was ostensibly for my own safety, though the common people never offered me violence or even verbal abuse, instead turning away when I approached. It was not until much later that I realised my own followers had spread rumours of god-given powers and soldiers who had seen me kill Nakhtmin and drive Ay to his death disseminated word of my cruelty and cold-heartedness.
