The Amarnan Kings, Book 3: Scarab - Tutankhamen

by Overton, Max

  "A piece of cloth? How's that going to work?" Kahi asked.

  "We bind them. The Diqqa tribesmen in the southeast have their women wear these for the sake of modesty--as if there is something wrong with a woman's breast. But I thought, well, if they can wear them for modesty, could not you wear one for comfort?"

  Scarab thought about it and shrugged. "Why not? I can give it a try." She draped one end of the cloth over her breasts and pushed the rest of it under one arm. "Help me Khu." While she held one end in place, Khu walked around her, pulling the cloth and arranging it. Nebhotep produced a clasp and secured the end of the cloth.

  "How does it feel?" Khu asked.

  Scarab waggled her shoulders experimentally and jumped on the spot a few times. "I think it might work." She ran, jogging a hundred paces before turning and walking back, pulling at the cloth. "It's not tight enough. I still move and the cloth works free after a bit." She undid the clasp and unwound the cloth. "Tighter, Khu."

  "I don't want to hurt you."

  "You won't. Just bind me tightly." Khu had to repeat the binding three times before she was satisfied. Scarab set off at a run again, this time jogging both ways. She arrived back out of breath but grinning. "It works."

  Over the next month, Scarab and Khu went on progressively longer runs at dawn and dusk when the air was cooler. Halfway through the month, she decided to run barefoot and though she limped for a while, her feet toughened as her muscles grew. During the day, she lifted rocks or held swords out at arm's length, first for only a few minutes, then longer. Her training with arms continued. Huni taught her the sword; Hapu had skill with the spear, Kahi with the bow, Pamont with the sling, and muscular Sepi showed her the rudiments of wrestling. While Scarab did not become proficient in any of these weapons, she could trade blows with Huni and hit the target three times out of ten with spear, arrow and stone. Only Sepi the wrestler remained supreme.

  "Don't take it to heart, Scarab," Sepi rumbled after throwing her to the ground yet again. "You just don't have the strength of a man."

  Khu became lean and hardened in the same time and proved he was skilled with sword and spear.

  "You'll make a fine warrior," Scarab said with a wry smile. "My brother will be glad to have you in his army."

  "You too, Scarab. You're a lot better than you were."

  Scarab nodded but did not reply, going off alone to sit beneath a tree near the river, watching the water flow by. Nebhotep found her there as the sun dipped behind the hills on the western shore. He sat down beside her and together, in a companionable silence, they watched the last light leach from the day.

  "Are you alright, Scarab?" he asked at last.

  Scarab nodded, a shadow in the growing darkness. "I've been sweating like a peasant this last month to build muscles and learn how to fight but I'm still the worst of any of us."

  "Not the worst."

  "Well, you're a healer. You don't count."

  "Thank you."

  "You know what I mean. I thought maybe I could make something of myself but maybe all I'm good for is to get married to help my brother."

  "So you are going to give up? Well, I never really expected anything else. You are a spoiled princess too used to getting her own way." Nebhotep shrugged. "The trouble is you don't have a palace to run back to. In case you hadn't noticed, Smenkhkare is presently without a kingdom or an army. He has Horemheb, the best general Kemet has ever produced, chasing him through a barren wilderness. He is far from his home and his kingdom and his closest relative, the sister he loves, is about to give up because after a mere month she is not as skilled as men who have spent years training. Indeed, the gods have blessed our enterprise. Why don't you just throw yourself in the river and be done with it?"

  Scarab gaped open-mouthed at the physician. She leaped to her feet and turned away as if to storm off, hesitated, then collapsed to the ground and burst into tears. After a few minutes of heartbreaking sobs she glanced surreptitiously at Nebhotep through her fingers. He was leaning back against the palm tree with his eyes closed. She renewed her wailing and sneaked another look. Nebhotep looked as if he was asleep so she sniffed and blew her nose on her fingers, wiping them on the grass.

  "If you have quite finished your childish outburst," Nebhotep said, his eyes still closed. "We can make some reasonable plans."

  "I'm not a child," Scarab sulked. "I have a baby of my own and...and I've killed a man."

  "Neither accomplishment signifies maturity," Nebhotep observed dryly. "Any fool of a girl can lie with a man and from what I've heard about the incident at Waset, you were lucky. Now, what are you to do? You are well educated and you have high position, being sister to both of Kemet's rival kings. However, this will not help you unless you make some reasoned choices. If you want the easy life of a palace woman, a princess, you can either go back to Waset and throw yourself on Tutankhamen's mercy..."

  "Ay would kill me."

  "...or you can go to Smenkhkare and let him use you as a mate in his schemes."

  "I don't want to do that either."

  "So we come back to the only other real option, and you will have to face up to the hard reality of the situation. If you are going to become a warrior woman you have to knuckle down to possibly years of training. Your privileged position will not buy you an easy path; you'll have to work at it."

  Scarab said nothing, just sitting a few paces from the physician, her head turned away toward the silver path of the moon on the rippled waters of Iteru.

  Nebhotep waited as the waning moon sank further and in the face of her continued silence, sighed and got to his feet. "Well, it's something for you to think about. We'd better be getting back to camp before Khu organises a search party. Are you coming?" Scarab gave no response and Nebhotep turned away and started moving off through the scrub.

  "Wait...please." Scarab scrambled to her feet. "I'll come with you."

  Hapu challenged them softly on the outskirts of their secluded camp and they entered to find the others in a state of excitement. Khu darted an anxious look at Scarab but said nothing, relief flooding his face instead.

  "News," Huni said. "Another scout on the road says that Horemheb is gathering an army against the rebels in the south. We should leave at once if we are to meet up with the king's men at the Kurgus stelae."

  "No." Scarab shook her head and stepped full into the firelight. "We go to Sehotep-Neteru to find out Horemheb's plans first, and then warn my brother."

  "We are yours to command, Scarab, you know that," Huni said slowly. "But have you fully considered the risks of entering the enemy camp. What if you are discovered?"

  "I will not put anyone at unnecessary risk, but I think we should at least make an attempt to gather more information. I give you my word; I will listen to your counsel before entering the city." Scarab glanced across at Nebhotep who pursed his lips and after a slight hesitation, nodded.

  "That is settled then," Scarab continued. "Get some sleep for we leave at first light and I mean to be there in five days."

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  Chapter Nine

  Tutankhamen's progress to war became a triumphal procession after Men-nefer. News of the hunt and the bravery of the young king in the face of death spread through the countryside, seemingly faster than a man could travel. With every farm and village encountered on the march north, the stories grew until they assumed the proportions of myth. Two bulls became many, then a herd of savage beasts possessed by demons and the king first slew them with the bow, then with a sword, finally strangling them to death with his bare hands. Men, young and old, flocked to the king's progress, cheering and throwing flowers and palm fronds in front of the royal chariot. Many joined the growing army in a fit of zeal, swelling the ranks so much that General Nakhtmin was forced to elevate officers to take charge of the separate corps formed.

  The king opted to travel along the west bank of the Great River from Men-nefer up onto the low plateau marked by those g
reat mountains of stone erected in past ages. He dismounted from his chariot and stood looking in awe until he recollected that he was the living king of Kemet and thus greater than any mass of carved stone. Turning from the brilliance of the sun reflected off the white limestone coverings of the pyramids, the king guided his chariot back toward Iteru and the docks that serviced the many mortuary buildings and temples. Here he found the temple of Heru-Khepri-Re-Atum and its priests.

  The priests rose from their obeisance to the living god and guided the young king to the stone god, crouched like a human-headed lion facing the east. Tutankhamen made an offering of incense on the stone altar that lay between the god's outstretched paws then stood back as the blue sweet-smelling smoke wafted into the heavens. He gazed up at the head towering above him and without taking his eyes from the majestic features, called the high priest to him.

  "Meketre, explain to me this mystery, for I have not seen its like."

  "O Great King, Live Forever. Shesepankh has lain on this spot since before Kemet became the Two Kingdoms and the gods blessed our lands with the fruitfulness of Iteru."

  "I thought my grandfather, Menkheperure Thutmose built it."

  "My lord!" Meketre sounded faintly scandalised but tried hard to cover it up. "The statue of the god has been here for thousands of years. Your noble grandfather lay beneath the stone that is the paw of the god and fell asleep. He dreamed a sacred dream wherein the god spoke to him and promised he would be king despite the existence of an elder brother, provided he cleared the sand away. This your noble grandfather did, and true to his word, the god raised him to the throne." The high priest bowed once more to the young king and continued. "Legend has it, O Great King, that as long as the sands of the desert are kept from the image of the god, the kings of our Two Lands will remain strong. Such was the case during the long and glorious reign of your father Nebmaetre, surely one of Kemet's greatest kings. Alas, when your brother Waenre Akhenaten ruled, temples throughout the land were neglected and the sands encroached on the god daily. We do our best to keep back the sands, O Sovereign of all that You survey, but we are not a rich temple. If we had gold..." his voice trailed off suggestively.

  "You shall have it," Tutankhamen exclaimed. "All you need to preserve the precinct of the god. Kemet is about to enter into an age of unprecedented wealth and power under my guidance and that of my sons. Send a scribe to the royal treasury and tell him what you need."

  The king bowed to the impassive face of Shesepankh, before turning and walking away, down to the docks. In the distance, across the wide expanse of Iteru here where the Great River first divided, he could see the massed army under the leadership of General Nakhtmin, the dust of its passing raising a pillar that stretched up in the still air of the eastern desert to smudge the turquoise heavens.

  When all the king's entourage was aboard the barges, they cast off and the rowers carried them swiftly across the current, the sailors singing and chanting hymns of praise to their handsome young god-king. Tutankhamen stood in the prow of the leading barge, the blue leather war-bonnet masking his elongated head and the fresh breeze off the river flapping the spotless linen kilt around his waist. Sunlight gleamed on the gold of his armbands and on the ornate gold and glass paste pectoral that hung heavy on his thin chest. He lifted his head in song and, to the consternation of the court officials closest to him, sung part of the Great Hymn to the Aten. Silence fell on the royal barge as he finished the song and he looked round calmly at his court.

  "I honour all the gods of Kemet. When we land I shall sacrifice to Amun."

  General Nakhtmin greeted his king on the eastern shore and waited patiently while the youth conducted an elaborate service in praise of Amun.

  "It would not do to make Amun jealous," he explained. "Now, Nakhtmin, where is my army? I have a Hittite enemy to conquer."

  The general escorted him inland to where a multitude of people waited. Most were simple farmers and labourers, plucked from their humdrum everyday work by the promise of excitement, plunder and gold. Few of them had weapons beyond simple wooden staves or copper knives and scythes, and fewer still had any form of training, but to the young king none of that mattered.

  "A great army, Nakhtmin, with which I shall sweep our land clear of the foul Hittite invader."

  Nakhtmin said nothing, deciding the truth was not always something a king needed to hear. Instead, he took Tutankhamen on an inspection tour of the original core of the army, the troops they had brought from Waset. These few were disciplined, standing in ranks in the hot sun with their spears erect like a field of new green barley shoots after the spring planting. The king cast a quick look over the first few rows before nodding and walking back out in front of the army. He pointed to the undisciplined rabble of the new recruits.

  "Do the same with them, Nakhtmin. I want this whole army trained and armed by the time we are on the Way of Heru."

  "Very good, my lord, but where are we to obtain arms? Our own stores will not provide a fraction of what we need."

  Tutankhamen frowned and waved his hand dismissively. "Find them, I do not care where." He walked back to his chariot where the rest of his court had assembled. "Where to next then?"

  "Northeast, my lord, past Iunu, and along the eastern bank of the Djanet branch of the river to the start of the great forts. From there, we join the Way of Heru to Djanet, Hawet-w'ret and Zarw. A month or more for your army, my lord."

  The king frowned again. "There is hunting hereabouts? I do not like the thought of moving at walking pace for so long."

  "Wildfowl in the reed beds," Nakhtmin replied. "I can organise a hunt, if it pleases you, Great One."

  "Yes, it does please me. See to it."

  Five days later the vanguard of the long procession of the king's army approached the town of Iunu and its temple complex. Although the lands through which they traveled were richer and produced an abundance of cattle, grain and vegetables, the demands of an army quickly depleted the resources. People started to hide their produce and there were several incidents in which mobs of raw recruits rampaged through the villages, burning and killing in an effort to find food. Nakhtmin ordered his officers to stamp out the lawless behavior, which they did with great ferocity, leaving scores of dismembered bodies behind to appease the families of the victims. Tutankhamen showed great interest in the first executions, displaying an unseemly enthusiasm for the blood of his subjects, but after turning pale at the first of them, stayed away thereafter. Instead he ordered vast amounts of gold from his treasury, instructing the army quartermasters to pay top prices for produce.

  The army was ordered away from the Iunu temples, but the king and his principal courtiers left the route of the march and drove their chariots in search of new things.

  "What is at Iunu?" the king asked a noble presently in favour.

  "The temples of Iunu are dedicated to the worship of the Nine, O Great One," Djedefre said, bowing low.

  "The Nine? I seem to remember my tutor Keneben telling us of them. They comprise the world of Rostau, do they not? Governing the physical world of creation?"

  "My lord," Djedefre replied. "Your knowledge of the gods far exceeds mine. I ask only that I might attend upon you so I can learn something of the divine life."

  "Granted," Tutankhamen said graciously. He set off toward the temples with Djedefre. The rest of the nobles and courtiers followed in a jealous rage, each furious that the king had asked Djedefre instead of them.

  Nine priests met the royal party on the outskirts of the holy precinct, at the lip of the bowl-shaped depression that housed the eight temples set in a spiral and the ninth on the central mound. Notable by their absence were the hordes of lesser priests that normally attended upon the high priests, in addition to temple servants, acolytes and hangers-on who always turned out when royalty appeared. Tutankhamen looked surprised and taken aback but greeted the high priests civilly.

  "Greetings, royal one of Amun's city. The gods of Iunu welcome you."
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br />   "May the peace of the gods be upon you," Tutankhamen replied, raising his hand in blessing. "Which of the Nine do you represent?"

  The priest bowed, spreading his long white robes gracefully. "I am the Hem-netjer of Atum the creator, also styled Atum as is the custom here at Iunu. These, too, are Hem-Netjer of the gods of Iunu." The priest indicated the other priests arrayed behind him, four on each side. "Shu...Tefnut...Nut...Geb and Auset...Asar...Nebt-Het...Set."

  Each of the gods, represented in the physical world by their Hem-netjer or High Priest, came forward to bow before the king as they were named, and offer their greeting. "How may we serve you, royal one of Amun's city?"

  "I go to war with the Hittite king to drive him from the land of Kemet. I seek the blessing of the gods on my enterprise."

  "The king must sacrifice in each temple," the priest of Atum said.

  Tutankhamen hesitated and Lord Djedefre cut in swiftly. "It is not for the king to accede to the wishes of priests. Give your blessing immediately or feel the royal wrath."

  The king put up his hand to calm Djedefre but the priest of Atum gazed dispassionately at the noble. "A lonely death and burial in a foreign land," he said quietly.

  "Are you threatening one of my nobles? Tutankhamen asked with a frown. "I think perhaps I might pass Iunu by."

  "The king must choose three temples in which to sacrifice."

  "Not nine?"

  "The other gods have withdrawn, O King. You must choose."

  Tutankhamen hesitated again. "The king obeys no man."

  "The gods withdraw again. Choose one in which to offer sacrifice. My lord," the priest of Atum went on in a lower voice. "I beg you not to spurn what the god will tell you. Every one of the Nine would have told you an aspect of the fate that awaits you. You have rejected eight; accept the one that you not go blindly into death."

  Tutankhamen paled and stepped back as if a serpent spread its hood in front of him. "You prophesy death to your king? I will have you flayed alive."