by Overton, Max
Huni returned with a pile of gaudily coloured cloth and showed them how to fit lengths of it around their waists, drawing the ends between their legs and tying them off. The soldiers treated it as a game, showing off their gaudy clothing with a lot of laughter, but Scarab looked pensive.
"What's the matter?" Khu asked. "I know it's not good quality but..."
"Gods, I don't care about that, but I'm endangering you all now."
"Well, we could leave now and find your brother. Hardly anyone's seen us so I doubt any alarm will have been raised."
"We have to stay, Khu. We have to find out what Horemheb's planning. What I'm talking about is my hair. It's red."
Khu nodded but frowned. "What of it?"
"Look around you. How many people do you see with anything but black hair? My Khabiru red is going to attract attention." Scarab fingered another piece of cloth. "I'm going to have to fashion some sort of head covering, but those aren't common either. It'll be less conspicuous than my hair though." She went and sat behind the others, keeping out of sight as much as possible.
A short time later, Nebhotep turned up, holding two small leather pouches. He went over to Scarab and drew her aside, whispering. She smiled in return and embraced him briefly.
"We're only going to be a little while," Scarab told the others. "I have to return to the river." She refused to answer any questions and hurried off with the physician.
The minutes lengthened and the shadows grew shorter, forcing them away from the stalls into the dappled shade of a scrubby tree. They lay down in the withered grass under the tree and endured the heat of the noon sun.
"Where in Set's holy name are they?" Huni asked, glancing at the sun. "I'm going to look for them." He got to his feet and dusted down his new clothes.
"No need," Sepi said. "There's the physician and...I say, he's found a girl for us." He laughed and nudged Kahi. "Looks like you're out of luck."
Kahi ignored the jest and raised himself on one elbow. "Then where's Scarab?...Bollocks! That is Scarab."
The young woman that accompanied the physician looked nothing like the copper-skinned redhead that had left with him an hour before. She was altogether darker, almost light Nubian in skin colour and her wavy hair was black as kohl.
"So, how do I look?" Scarab grinned and twirled, showing off. "You think anybody will recognise me now?"
Khu gaped, his eyes roaming freely over the grinning young woman. "Your own brother wouldn't recognise you. What happened? What did you do?"
"It was Nebhotep. He found me some kohl for my hair and a berry that darkens the skin."
Huni walked around Scarab, examining her critically. "The colour's reasonable but the hair's wrong, and your features. No-one will mistake you for a Nubian."
"They're not supposed to. I could be of mixed parentage though. Besides, I'm not trying to pass myself off as a local, just not be quite so noticeable."
"Well, alright. I suppose that will work. What do we do now?"
"Go and find out what Horemheb's plans are," Scarab said. "That's why we are here."
"I know," Huni said patiently. "But how, exactly? We can't just march up and ask him."
Scarab bit her lip and frowned. "We can ask around. See if anyone's heard anything."
"Very good. Who do we ask? Or do we just start with the first person we see and keep going until we find out or get arrested?"
"There's no need to be rude," Khu objected. "Do you know how to find out?"
Huni looked at the young lad calmly. "No, I don't, but I do think it is a good idea to have some firm plan in mind before leaping into action. We should sit down and discuss it. Maybe someone here has the answer." The Nubian Leader of Five bowed slightly to Scarab and smiled. "I apologise, my lady, if I appear rude, but leadership calls for a plan, not just bravery."
"You are right, Huni. Let us do so." Scarab led the way under the trees again and sat down cross-legged on the bare earth. She adjusted her gaily-coloured waist cloth, thankful the longer fabric and pinned up ends allowed her to sit in such a casual manner. "Alright," she said as soon as everyone else sat down. "Who has some ideas?"
Nebhotep raised a hand. "First, let us think about who knows Horemheb's plan. It will do no good asking someone who cannot know it. Obviously Horemheb himself and his senior officers will know."
"The viceroy," Huni added.
"There will be rumours, at least, among the soldiers in the barracks," Hapu said.
"And the quartermasters," Sepi said. "They'll need to know the stores to lay in, how many weapons, any special provisions."
"Good." Nebhotep nodded and looked around the circle of faces. "Who else might know?"
"Slaves and palace servants," Scarab said firmly. "They are often just overlooked by their masters."
"Presumably Smenkhkare is south of us somewhere," Khu said. "If you were going to attack him and be sure of success, you'd need a legion. How would you transport a legion? Are the roads good enough?"
Sepi shrugged and glanced at Huni for confirmation. "They are passable as long as it does not rain, but it would be slow. River passage would be faster and you'd get your troops there fresher."
"Then Horemheb may be gathering barges. The watermen may know where he's headed."
"Very good, Khu. Anyone else with an idea? No? Then we have the palace, the barracks and the waterfront. How do we approach this?"
"We soldiers should try the barracks," Huni said slowly. "But there is some danger here. We are recognizable as trained soldiers. We could find ourselves conscripted and once caught, may not find it easy to get away."
"I will not put you at risk, Huni. We must find another way."
"With respect, Scarab, the risk is worth taking. I will do it myself, with one other to watch my back." Pamont nodded. "Then it is settled. Now, the waterfront. I'd suggest Sepi as he has worked the river before and Hapu to back him."
Sepi grinned and threw a clod of earth at Hapu across the circle. "Fish for dinner again tonight."
"Kahi will have to try the palace then, with Khu perhaps," Huni continued. "You've been in palaces before, haven't you lad?"
"He has," Scarab said. "Many times, but Kahi hasn't. He'll stand out. I will go in his place."
"You should not risk yourself, lady. You are more important than Kahi."
"No offence taken," Kahi muttered under his breath.
"I will not sit by and let you endanger yourselves, Huni. You forget I was raised in a palace. I know what is expected of a servant and besides, Khu will be there to protect me." Khu shot her an adoring look.
Huni grudgingly gave in. "Kahi can frequent the taverns then--but no drinking. As for our physician..."
"I can't just sit in a tavern and drink nothing," Kahi objected. "I'd look really odd."
"Well, we don't have any copper to waste buying you drinks, so perhaps we'd better forget about that."
"He can come with me," Nebhotep said. "I can sit outside a tavern and set up as an itinerant doctor. I should get enough custom to allay suspicions and people might start gossiping besides. Kahi can be my assistant, carry my powders and unguents."
"What powders and unguents?"
"The ones I'm going to buy with the last of our copper." Nebhotep smiled. "If I'm going to keep us all healthy, I need to buy a few things."
"There won't be any crocodile dung or anything, will there?" Kahi asked suspiciously. "I don't want to be carrying around anything foul like that."
"Don't worry," grinned the physician. "If I need that, I'll send you down to the river to collect it fresh from the back end of one." After a pause, Kahi joined in the general laughter.
The meeting broke up and Huni impressed on them once more the need for caution. "This is enemy territory. Take no unnecessary risks." Telling them to meet back at the market at dusk, the Leader of Five sent his teams of spies out, taking Pamont with him, heading toward the army barracks on the north side of the city.
Scarab and Khu presented themselves
to the palace Chamberlain who questioned them.
"Who are you and where do you come from?" The Chamberlain, a tall angular man with the sour look of dissatisfaction, looked them up and down, his eyes glinting as he noted Scarab's beauty.
"We are from Abu, lord," Scarab replied, keeping her eyes downcast. "I was a maid of the bedchamber in the governor's palace and my brother was a body servant."
"Then what are you doing here? Have you fled ahead of some crime?"
"No lord. Our mother fell sick and sent us word but she died before we could get here. We have no means to return to Abu so we must earn our passage back."
"Brother and sister? You do not look alike."
"In truth, our mother was my step-mother, a Kemetu, whereas my own mother was from Kush. Our father was a scribe in Abu."
The Chamberlain grunted. "And you did not want to earn your fare on your back? Very commendable. Well, as it happens we have places for both of you with so many men called up for service." He tore his eyes from Scarab's breasts and looked at Khu appraisingly. "Why has he not been conscripted? He looks young and strong."
Scarab thought quickly. "He...he was, lord, but he has the...the falling sickness and they released him. He has the paper with the scribe's mark at our lodging."
A look of alarm came over the Chamberlain's face. "He is sick?"
"It cannot be passed to another person, lord, and he gets it seldom. When he gets a headache and feels dizzy, he slips away. The governor's chamberlain at Abu had no problem with him."
"Then perhaps he should go back there quickly." The man thought for a few moments. "Very well, you can work in the bedchambers; your brother can work in the gardens." The Chamberlain dismissed them, telling them who to see and handing them a small scrap of papyrus with a few words on them. "Show them this, and bring your brother's paper tomorrow. He should keep it with him as he will need it if he is to avoid conscription again."
Seeking directions from the palace servants, Scarab and Khu split up to find their respective overseers. Scarab was soon hard at work cleaning and preparing beds, scrubbing down floors and carrying water. She blessed her recent hard life on the road, knowing that she was now strong enough to cope with the work.
A man-servant accosted her, roughly slipping his hand up her kilt as she bent over. She reacted without thinking, gripping the man's arm and twisting, sending him cursing to the tiled floor. She then helped him up with loud apologies and dug two stiff fingers into his side. "Next time I will break something," she whispered as the man gasped with pain. The man hobbled off to laughter from the other servants and Scarab found them easier to talk to after that.
"Serves Hory right," whispered a young Nubian girl. "He does that to every newcomer. He lords it over us now that all the young men have been taken into the legion."
"I heard that," Scarab replied. "Why are they taken? Is there a war on? I'm newly arrived from Abu," she explained.
The other girl shrugged and wiped sweat away from her eyes. "Bandits, I'm told. Causing trouble in the south."
"I heard it's rebels," said another girl. "Followers of that Son of Sobek who caused all that trouble last year."
"Or marauding tribes," added the first.
"How can we find out for sure?" Scarab asked.
"Why do you want to know? No good ever comes of knowing too much," said the second girl. "Keep your head down and do your work, I say." She straightened and walked out of the room, carrying a pile of dirty cloths.
The first girl looked at Scarab with a questioning expression. "Why do you want to know, anyway?"
Scarab shrugged. "Just interested. As I said, I'm from Abu and talk of bandits or rebels and such is very exciting. My brother could get conscripted too, and I'd want to know where they were sending him and why."
The girl looked around cautiously and moved closer to Scarab. "If you really must know, have a word with Emsaf, on the Deputy Viceroy's staff. He'll know. Tell him Tia sent you." Scarab thanked her and asked where this Emsaf might be found. Tia told her and added, "Of course, he'll want something in return. Probably what Hory wanted or more." The girl smiled and moved away.
As dusk approached and the smells of cooking wafted through the palace, Scarab was able to gain a release from the Overseer of the Bed Chambers because she lived away from the palace. She hurried out into the gardens and collected a sweaty Khu, before they made their way back down through the city toward the marketplace.
Nebhotep and Kahi were already there. They had built a small fire and were grilling fish over the low flames. As they approached, Sepi and Hapu appeared, carrying another fish and greeted them warmly. They all sat around the fire in the cool evening, watching the stars come out and listening to the sounds of the city as the fish cooked.
"Where are Huni and Pamont? They should be here by now."
Nobody said anything but they all feared what might have happened. The fire died down and they ate one of the fish, sopping up the juices with freshly baked bread. Then, as the city lights were extinguished, they heard footsteps hurrying across the open ground.
Scarab leaped to her feet. "At last!" she cried.
"One man," Kahi grunted. He quickly strung his bow and fitted an arrow, whipping round to train his weapon at the dim shape appearing out of the night.
"It's me," Pamont gasped as he fell to his knees in the dim glow of the fire. "Huni's been taken. They would have had me too but I outran them."
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Chapter Twelve
Horns and trumpets blared, shattering the heat-shimmered air with a martial cadence as Tutankhamen's new army marched past the fort overlooking the wide dry valley called the Stream of Kemet and onto the broad flat plain beyond. For a month, the army, ten thousand strong, had marched along the coast road past the string of forts that guarded the main access to Kemet's rich lands, by the shores of the Great Sea. The sights and sounds and smells were novel to men who lived their whole lives along the banks of Iteru. Even with such a great river, the far bank could always be seen as a smudge of green against a desert backdrop, yet here the water spread out like the desert, barren and seemingly without end. The king was not tied to the road and the monotonous grind of the daily march like his army, and ventured down to the shore, trying to come to terms with this alien landscape.
His chariot wheels sank in the soft sand, so he walked, marveling at the ceaseless motion, waves crashing onto the shore, the hiss of pebbles and sand and the relentless suction as the water drained back. The water was salty to the taste, not like the sweet water of Iteru, yet things lived in it. Picked and scavenged carcasses littered the sand and every now and then, in the shelter of a small bay or inlet, a cluster of ramshackle huts attested to men trying to earn a living from the watery waste. Small fishing boats rocked in the swell and the men of the tiny villages dropped their nets and lines and prostrated themselves before their youthful god-king. Tutankhamen wanted to board one of the boats and go out onto the sea, but Nakhtmin managed to talk him out of it, telling of how the motion made people vomit. The loss of dignity involved would have been insufferable, so the king reluctantly agreed to remain on dry land.
The army slowly evolved from a rabble of loosely organised peasants into the semblance of a fighting unit. Progress was slow as Nakhtmin ordered an early camp each afternoon so that the various troops could learn the rudiments of drill, the handling of weapons, how to recognise trumpet signals in the noise of battle, and what it was like to face a disciplined enemy.
The first time a thousand men had formed into ragged ranks, Nakhtmin had sent fifty professional soldiers against them, armed only with wooden staves. The front ranks of the thousand shifted uneasily as the fifty formed up a hundred paces away. The soldiers went through a series of maneuvers, culminating in the staves being lowered like spears, and with a chilling yell, the fifty threw themselves forward. The thousand held firm for ten paces, wavered at twenty, the front ranks stepping back into the ones be
hind, and at forty paces they dropped their weapons and ran. The fifty professionals chased them back to camp, laying into them with their staves, then a single trumpet blast sounded and the fifty stopped dead in their tracks, reformed their ranks and marched off the field. In their wake they left a dozen dead and over a hundred nursing wounds and bruises.
The army of peasants learned, slowly and painfully. Nakhtmin and his officers drove them hard, knowing they would meet the enemy far sooner than they should. They could not hope to turn them into professionals in a month or two, but perhaps they could be used as a shield to bear the brunt of the Hittite attack, while their own trained legions launched the counter-thrust.
Tutankhamen rode in his armoured war-chariot drawn by two spirited stallions. He wore the blue leather Khepresh crown, ornamented with tiny sun discs, and a gleaming gold and glass paste pectoral that sent the sun's rays dancing ahead of him. Nakhtmin rode with him, acting as charioteer so that the king might strike a regal pose. Behind marched his army, drawn up in legions whose names reflected the nomes from which they were drawn--Min, Un, Men-nefer, Heq-at, Sept, and Khent-abt--rather than the names of the gods. Ahead of them, on the great plain that stretched north from the dry Stream of Kemet, stood the army of Paramessu, also drawn up in legions, proudly standing for the gods they represented--Re, Heru, Ptah and Set.
Nakhtmin reined in the king's chariot fifty paces from the gathered generals and legion commanders. The king stood in the chariot beside his own general and swallowed hard. A flicker of uncertainty crossed his boyish features and Nakhtmin spoke out of the corner of his mouth, softly, so only his king would hear.
