The Amarnan Kings, Book 3: Scarab - Tutankhamen

by Overton, Max

  "All men die, my lord, even kings. I do not prophesy your death but the gods warn of the future of you and your house."

  "You speak words of ill omen. I will have nothing to do with you. Give thanks to your god I leave you alive." The king turned and started away, his nobles hurrying after with looks of fear and loathing at the priests of Iunu.

  "Yet Atum will be merciful," called the priest. "He says--'On the day you meet your brother you may choose life and be forgotten or choose death and your name will live forever.'"

  Tutankhamen gasped in horror and made a warding sign against evil. "My brother is dead. You are prophesying my death." Several courtiers picked up stones and prepared to throw them at the king's command. He shook his head and stumbled away to his chariot. Within minutes the chariots were lost in a cloud of dust as they sped northeast to intersect the army.

  The priests of Iunu stood in silence, watching until the acrid pall of dust dissipated in the gentle west wind. Each communing with his god, they turned and made their way back to their temples, sorrowing that the king of Kemet had rejected the teachings of the gods and must now face a future without the sure knowledge of what must unfold.

  Tutankhamen, with the resilience of youth, put the disturbing thoughts and words behind him and launched into a series of hunts and fishing expeditions along the easternmost branch of the Great River. While the king spent his days on pleasure, his army marched behind, slowly forming up into an image of an army, if not yet the substance of one. They came on the first of the great forts that guarded the eastern frontiers of Kemet, Pi-Ra, then a few days later Tjaru. A canal branched off the river's course a little after Tjaru, leading due east to the city of Zarw and its fort and palace of the old queen, Nebmaetre's consort, Tiye. The army kept up its slow but steady march along the road out of Kemet, the start of the broad military road known as the Way of Heru, but the king decided to stay a few days in his grandmother's palace.

  The palace had been shut up and all but deserted for the last twenty years and on hearing of the king's decision, the elders of Zarw ran to Judge Seti, the retired military commander, in a panic.

  "What do you expect me to do?" he barked. "You are the elders of the city. Employ servants, hundreds of them if you must, and get that palace cleaned out and refurbished."

  "But where are we to find hundreds of servants at short notice?"

  "You have the Khabiru on your doorstep. Use them."

  "It will cost much gold," the elders wailed. "We shall be ruined."

  "You will be dead if you displease the king," Seti observed with a smile. "What would you prefer?"

  The elders hurried off to hire men and women from among the Khabiru, to lay in stocks of fine wines and foods and to organise a welcome worthy of the approaching king. Seti watched their efforts for half a day, knowing they could not possibly succeed in cleansing the palace before the king arrived. He took pity on them at last, sending out his own servants to invite the king to dine at his house that evening.

  General Nakhtmin, his own spies having reported back on the situation in Zarw, took it upon himself to accept Seti's invitation on behalf of the king, telling the Judge's aghast servants that a hundred people would be attending upon the king when he visited.

  "Do I have to?" Tutankhamen asked when he heard of the invitation. "I'd rather just relax and maybe have a party at the palace."

  "The king may, of course, do as he pleases," Nakhtmin replied smoothly. "Judge Seti was a Troop Commander in your illustrious father's day and he is also father to General Paramessu, with whom you will be facing the Hittite shortly."

  "I suppose it would show honour to the judge?"

  "Indeed, my lord king. Your grasp of the necessities of statecraft is an inspiration to us all."

  Tutankhamen looked askance at his general. "And a hundred people?"

  "You are the king, my lord. Would he expect less?" Nakhtmin smiled, knowing that a hundred guests would cause the retired judge considerable financial hardship.

  Seti had torn at his white hair in anguish when he heard of the task ahead of him, but quickly started organizing a feast and such entertainment as could be found at short notice. His servants rushed off to the markets to secure anything that had not already been snapped up by the elders of Zarw, while the housemaids were driven to tears by his wife Pentere's demands. The whole house was washed and swept, furniture dusted and polished, the courtyard raked over and the midden emptied and the contents carried far downwind. Incense sweetened the air and flowers were brought in to brighten the rooms.

  "What possessed you to invite the king on the first night?" Pentere wailed. She broke off to slap a serving girl who was talking to another. "How can I possibly see to everything in only half a day?"

  "He is the king, my petal, and I am...was, senior officer in these parts. Those fools of elders cannot hope to get the palace ready by tonight. I am buying them some time."

  "You should have let them suffer, husband. Better them than us."

  Seti shook his head. "If the king is displeased, it will go ill with all of us. Besides, having the king here is an opportunity."

  "Opportunity? How? For what?"

  Seti signaled patience and waited until the serving girls left the room. "Our grandson Seti is the son of the king's sister and has a claim to the throne of Kemet. However, none can know of this connection yet, so how is he to make his claim when he is a man?"

  "Our son Paramessu is an army general..."

  "Perhaps, but rebellion is always a chancy business, particularly when the claimant is unknown. So, we curry favour with the king and secure for our grandson a place in Tutankhamen's court."

  Pentere shook her head. "Well, I leave such things to men. I have quite enough to worry about in this house without concerning myself with affairs of state."

  "I am sure you have things under control as always, my lily flower."

  "Hmmph. And then you had to go and invite a hundred guests. Where are we going to put them all? We do not have a single room large enough. We'll have to split them but how do I decide who goes where?"

  "I did not invite that many. I was not expecting more than twenty, my kitten. Put them in the courtyard. It will be a warm night. Hang candles from the trees and plant rush torches all around. It will at least be different."

  "A disaster more likely and we shall all end up in the hands of the executioners." Pentere hurried off and started screeching at the servants to bring all the tables and chairs out into the courtyard. Once more the household dissolved into organised chaos but by the time the sun flattened and touched the western horizon, all was in readiness.

  A man came running in to warn of the approach of the king and Seti had his whole staff, neat and tidy in freshly laundered kilts, line up on either side of the main gates to the compound. Behind them, the plaster and brickwork shone like copper in the setting rays of the sun, and distantly, through the open doors, a flicker of flame took hold as the courtyard beyond sank into shadow.

  Tutankhamen led the procession of nobles and high-ranking officers, riding in his chariot of state. Unlike his hunting chariot, this one was of sturdy construction and was heavy with gilded ornamentation. It was drawn by two white horses that moved at a walk, enabling the accompanying men to keep pace. The king halted the chariot just outside the gates instead of riding through, and descended agilely. His clean white kilt of the finest linen shone brightly against his copper skin and the weight of gold from pectoral and armbands weighed down his slender limbs. He advanced through the wide gates toward Seti and Pentere.

  The old couple dropped to their knees and bent their heads, holding out their arms in front of them in a gesture of supplication. Immediately, their servants prostrated themselves on the packed and swept earth of the front courtyard. Tutankhamen smiled and after a few moments, just long enough to signal the difference in their ranks, he stepped close and put a hand on each of their white-haired heads.

  "Arise Judge Seti, Noble Pentere. Greet
your king."

  Seti rose to his feet, followed by his wife, and in turn stooped and gave the ritual kiss to their king. A surreptitious hand signal brought a dozen comely slave girls forward, bearing garlands of flowers and baskets of scented petals to be scattered in front of the royal party. The king behaved with suitable decorum, accepting a garland, but several of the officers leered at the naked girls.

  General Nakhtmin moved up and introduced himself then, in turn, each one of the hundred nobles and senior army officers. Seti seethed within himself at this flagrant breach of etiquette but the presence of the king precluded any curtailment of the introductions. At last, he finished and Seti signaled for another group of slaves bearing perfumed beeswax cones. Slowly, they moved among the guests and fixed the cones to the ornamented and plaited wigs everyone wore. This over, the king moved toward the house, down the avenue of still-prostrate servants and slaves. Seti worked his way across to the side of General Nakhtmin as the entourage followed the king through the house and into the courtyard behind.

  "This is your doing, isn't it, Nakhtmin?" Seti murmured.

  The general raised an eyebrow and nodded pleasantly to one of the lesser nobles. "What is my doing?"

  "This...this farce of introducing everyone. I could count on two hands my social superiors here. What interest do I have in the rest of this rabble you have brought along?"

  "The king did not object to me introducing his guests," Nakhtmin said coolly. "I am surprised an action blessed by the king offends you."

  "That is not what I mean and you know..." Seti broke off and looked at the military man appraisingly. "Why would you bother insulting a retired judge in a backwater outpost? It is not me you aim at, is it? It is my son, General Paramessu."

  Nakhtmin smiled and turned his back on his host, greeting an army officer warmly as he walked away. Seti ground his teeth but saw his wife signaling frantically to him and remembered his duty. He hurried across the courtyard and ushered the king to the Great Table under the old tamarind tree by the fishpond. The general and highest nobles sat closest to the king, though a space was maintained about the king's person as befitted a being who was both god and man. Seti sat at the foot of the Great Table, his position as host elevating him for the evening to the ranks of the nobility. Pentere had no place at the feast, nor did she crave one, her sole concern being the running of the function and the proper conduct of her servants and slaves. She was also the only woman present, aside from servants and slaves as none of the officers' women had been invited by Nakhtmin.

  The scent of roasted meats from the open fires at the back of the house and baking bread within the ovens, wafted over the guests and the men moved restlessly, eager to get to grips with good food. In the meantime, there was drink to be had in abundance. Wine graced the Great Table, vintages made from Seti's own vineyards near Zarw, and huge pots of freshly brewed beer, cool well water and creamy milk still warm and frothing from the udder for the lower tables.

  Utensils were brought out and placed on the tables, faience cups and plates, wooden platters and, for the king's table, Seti's own silver and gold plate. Bowls of scented water were set among the dishes for people to rinse their hands in after eating. Pentere, waiting at the entrance to the kitchens, clapped her hands, attracting everyone's attention. A procession of servants bore platters piled high with steaming loaves of barley bread and bowls of olive oil from the northern barbarian lands, sweet oils and preparations of pasted chick peas, onion, garlic and sesame seeds. Salads filled other bowls with radishes, cucumber, cabbage and endive, drizzled with oil and vinegar. Other bowls were piled high with lettuce leaves, beloved of the god Min, and amid ribald jokes in honour of the god of fertility, the leaves were dipped in olive oil and salt and consumed with gusto.

  Hard on the heels of the vegetables came the meats, smoking from the fires and dripping with hot fat. The choicest cuts of beef, the fattest pigeons and ducks, and the biggest fish were brought to the king's table and Seti himself cut slices of meat and piled the king's platter high. Tutankhamen looked with interest at the sharp blade wielded by his host and when he had finished carving, put his hand on the judge's arm.

  "What knife is that, Judge Seti? I do not believe I have seen its like."

  Seti wiped the short blade clean of meat and juices and held it up. The metal glinted a bluish gray, totally unlike the copper or bronze of most knives. "It is called iron, O Great King. I took it from the body of a Hittite general when I was a youth."

  Tutankhamen leaned forward eagerly and took the blade, holding it close to his eyes, admiring the way the light of the lamps flashed off its strange-coloured blade. "I think there is a story in the taking of this blade, Judge. Let us hear it." The rest of the high nobles at the nearest tables banged their fists on the wood and called out for the tale with voices already made indistinct with meat and wine.

  Seti bowed. "As my divine lord wishes." He stepped out in front of the king and struck a heroic pose, lifting his head high. "It was in the twentieth year of your illustrious father Nebmaetre Amenhotep, may he live forever. The Hittite barbarians grew bold that year, coming out from their caves and their thickets to invade the lands of civilised people. They advanced unopposed through the lands of the north, defeating the weak-livered peoples until they came to the boundaries of the land of the gods, our own beloved land, Ta Meri. Nebmaetre, may he live forever, called on our generals to lead an army north and throw back the upstart Hittite, and I was called on though I was but a lowly Leader of Fifty." Seti paused and looked around at the assembled nobles and senior army officers and nodded, smiling. "Yes, I was then a junior officer but already I had caught the eye of the man who was to become our greatest general, Lord Horemheb himself. He was but a legion commander then, the Heru legion as befits his name, but he raised me to Leader of a Hundred and sent me and my men into battle alone against the Hittite."

  "Are you sure he was not trying to get rid of you?" Nakhtmin joked.

  Seti smiled back though his eyes glittered in the torchlight. "Our task was to hold the enemy and withdraw slowly down a narrow path in the hills until Horemheb could fall on them with his legion. The general in charge, Merymose, would then take the enemy in the rear and annihilate them. All went according to the plan until a stray arrow killed Merymose and our men became disheartened. The enemy rallied and broke free with Horemheb's legion harrying them. But a single legion was not enough and the Hittite general turned at bay. His army fell on the Heru legion and the pieces of the other legions that had not fled the field." Seti shook his white-haired head solemnly. "It was an ill day for Kemet, or would have been, had not the gods set fortune in my path. I, and seventy of my men, had followed the chase by another path and came upon the battle from the side. The Hittite general directed his troops from a small hillock not a hundred paces from where I emerged from the hills. We attacked, and I fought my way to the hillock and confronted the enemy general."

  Cries of awe and amazement sounded from the tables and then the whole courtyard stilled, listening to the old judge's words.

  "He was tall and well built with the full beard so loved by the northern barbarians. It had streaks of gray, so I knew that it would be my youth and speed against his strength and experience. I did not hesitate, did not give him the opportunity to assess his opponent, but leaped forward, sword raised. He parried my blow and struck back, the power of his arm nearly felling me to my knees. I stepped back, feinted left, thrust. He blocked, I feinted left again and slashed. He met my blade and knocked me down on my knees." Seti mimicked the motions, falling on his knees to the courtyard paving. "Stepping toward me, he raised his sword high in both hands, preparing the death blow. I cried aloud to Set, for he is my name-god, and he heard my prayer. As the general reached full height, his blow already starting its downward plunge, I thrust upward with my legs, toward him with my sharp sword leading and pierced him in the soft flesh that lies beneath the left arm." Seti leaped to his feet, his finger pointing up and the o
fficers murmured their respect in a low hum of appreciation.

  "You killed him?" Tutankhamen asked, his lips parted and his eyes gleaming with excitement. "You killed an enemy general in the field of battle?"

  "Yes, my lord king. He fell dead at my feet and his army cried aloud in terror and fled. Horemheb led his legion twenty miles in pursuit until darkness hid the Hittite's shame. For myself, I took a gold armband from the fallen general and that curious little knife which you now hold."

  "That is an amazing story of bravery and strength of arms." Tutankhamen stood and came around the table to embrace the old judge. "Such a deed deserves a reward." He stepped back and gestured to the army officers. "Do you not agree?" The men cheered and pounded the tables.

  "Your praise warms me, my lord king," Seti said, bowing. "But I was awarded the Gold of Honour, a chain of twenty deben weight."

  "Not enough, for you have shown me that true bravery is a virtue of our men of Kemet. You shall be rewarded again, a hundred deben weight of fine gold. Does that please you, Judge Seti?"

  "Indeed, my lord, I am overwhelmed by your generosity, yet..."

  "Yet what?" Tutankhamen frowned. "Do you refuse me?"

  "No, my lord, but the honour of serving you is all the reward I need."

  The king laughed delightedly. "You shall have the honour and the gold. Or would you rather have something other than gold? Slaves, land, herds?"

  "I would ask a favour, Lord King. Not for myself but for my grandson."

  Tutankhamen raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know you had a grandson."

  "He is the son of my son Paramessu, my lord."

  "Let us see this man descended from a general and troop commander."

  Seti signaled to Pentere, who had been listening with mounting trepidation ever since the infant had been mentioned. She hurried to bring the child out, plucking him from his bed and carrying him out squalling into the crowded courtyard.

  The king grinned and poked his finger at the child who batted the royal hand away and redoubled his cries of outrage. "He has a loud voice and he dares to strike his king."