The Amarnan Kings, Book 3: Scarab - Tutankhamen

by Overton, Max

  "Courage, my lord. Remember you are the king and they are nothing."

  Tutankhamen nodded and, taking a deep breath, leaped down from his chariot. Nakhtmin threw the reins to a waiting groom and stepped down also.

  "Let them come to you, my lord."

  A momentary hesitation and the commanders of the northern army started forward.

  "The tall one in front is Paramessu," Nakhtmin murmured. "General Djedhor is to his right, the hawk-nosed man. Fitting really as he doubles as the commander of Heru legion. Hednakt is the young man, Re legion; Amentep with the limp, Ptah; and the sour looking one is Khui, Set legion."

  The generals and commanders reached the king and went down on their knees, bowing their heads in submission. Tutankhamen opened his mouth to bid them rise and Nakhtmin gave a small cough.

  "Wait, my lord," he whispered. Nakhtmin's eyes glittered with pleasure as he let the moments multiply. At last he gave a ragged sigh of contentment and nodded. The king immediately bade them rise and embrace him.

  Paramessu was first up and after a neutral glance at the man beside the king, stepped forward and stooped for the royal kiss.

  "Welcome, lord king, may you live a million years. We are indeed blessed by your divine presence. May I present my officers?"

  "Paramessu. I've heard a lot about you." Tutankhamen battled to contain his excitement at meeting the famed warrior. "I want to hear all about your exploits and...er, yes, present your officers."

  "Divine one, this is Djedhor, general and commander of the Heru legion, my deputy." Djedhor came forward and embraced the king before bowing and stepping back as Amentep moved forward. The Heru commander caught a meaningful glance from Paramessu and casually stepped to Hednakht's side.

  "Control yourself, for the sake of us all," Djedhor murmured. "You will have us all executed."

  "You saw it," Hednakht muttered back. "That son of a whore deliberately restrained the king."

  "Your anger is foolish and risky. Cease at..." Paramessu called the name of Hednakht and the young man stepped forward.

  "My lord king," the young man said smiling. "I welcome you on behalf of the Re legion. Your presence brings us untold honour. I pray that while you are with us you will avail yourself of the wisdom and loyalty of your generals Paramessu and Djedhor."

  "The king already has trusted advisors," Nakhtmin sneered. "He has no need of others."

  "Er yes, that is so," Tutankhamen agreed. "Still, I would not ignore General Paramessu. General, may I inspect your legions?"

  "Of course, divine one."

  Nakhtmin turned toward the king's chariot and Paramessu lifted his arm and signaled to Merybastet, commander of chariots. A heavy three man chariot sped out from the ranks of the waiting legions, raising a cloud of dust as it raced across the open ground.

  "I thought perhaps you would join me, divine one," Paramessu said calmly, enjoying the look of fury on Nakhtmin's face. "I can better show you your army from a larger chariot."

  "I can drive it," Nakhtmin snarled as the heavy chariot drew up nearby, the horses snorting and rearing despite the charioteer's firm grip on the reins. "It is my place to drive the king."

  "I thought to let Djedhor apprise General Nakhtmin of the situation while you inspected your army, Lord Nebkheperure. Besides, those horses are quite a handful for someone not used to them. Do you like horses, divine one?"

  Tutankhamen's eyes glowed and he ignored Nakhtmin, allowing Paramessu to guide him to the chariot where the charioteer dismounted and gentled the stallions, introducing them to the king.

  "This is Aakhut, lord king," said the charioteer. "For his spirit burns like fire, and this is Ament, for he moves like the air itself."

  The king nodded and smiled, stroking their muzzles, and they tossed their heads, their ears pricked forward. The charioteer spoke a word and both horses raised their right foreleg and dipped their heads, bowing before their monarch. Tutankhamen uttered a delighted cry.

  "I will most certainly ride in this chariot. Nakhtmin, ride in the other with Djedhor." He started chatting with the charioteer, discussing the finer points of horses and their training. Paramessu smiled and helped the king into the chariot, stepping up on the other side of the charioteer. A nod and the chariot started forward, picking up speed and curving round to drive at the waiting legions. It sped past ranks of men standing stiffly to attention, kilts freshly laundered, weapons polished and sharpened. Paramessu described each unit as they passed it, telling stories of its bravery, recounting exploits. He even pointed out individual soldiers by name.

  "How can you remember them all?" Tutankhamen marveled.

  "A good general knows his men, divine one, and treats them as if they were his sons."

  "I met your son in Zarw," the king said. "A fine youngster, though he has red hair." He looked at Paramessu artlessly. "Are you sure he's your son?"

  Paramessu controlled a feeling of irritation. "Yes, lord king. His mother is faithful and loyal. I have but seen my son once, some months ago. I rejoice to hear he is well."

  "Who is your wife? I did not meet her, only your parents."

  "She is a Khabiru noble lady, divine one. She...she goes by the name of Neferkhepra and she is in the south for a short time."

  The chariot wheeled around the rearmost ranks and started back up between two other legions. Behind them, but a hundred paces back, Djedhor drove the king's chariot as he conversed with Nakhtmin. The king's general was not listening but glared at Paramessu's back, willing the king to turn. Finally he could take no more and grabbed the reins from a startled Djedhor, increasing the chariot's pace.

  Paramessu heard the thunder of the rapidly approaching chariot wheels and turned. He frowned with displeasure until he saw that Nakhtmin was driving. Laying a hand on the charioteer's arm he murmured, "Stop the chariot."

  The charioteer, disciplined like all of the northern army, obeyed without question and brought the vehicle to a rapid but smooth stop. The king looked startled as he grabbed the railing of the chariot to steady himself, but anger quickly gained the upper hand as Nakhtmin's chariot swept by. The general saw his mistake and cursed, swinging around in a tight circle that lifted one wheel off the ground. He walked the horses back behind the king.

  "How dare you, Nakhtmin?" Tutankhamen snapped. "No-one precedes me." The king held onto his anger and he glanced sidelong at Paramessu, assessing his thoughts. He saw only neutrality and calmed. "Stay back from now on. I will let you know when I want you."

  "Yes, great king," Nakhtmin answered. He bowed and held it until the king moved away.

  The young king said nothing for a time, though Paramessu tried to lighten the moment with tales of recent campaigns and deeds of heroism. As the inspection of the northern army came to an end, Tutankhamen gestured carelessly toward his own army from the south.

  "I will not show you my army until they have proved themselves in battle. I understand that the Hittite king has brought an army to invade Ta Meri, the beloved land?"

  "There are Hittite soldiers, divine one," Paramessu said slowly. "But there are many more Amorite troops and Jebu, an Amorite general leads them."

  "No Hittite king?" Disappointment crumpled the young king's face.

  "It is possible, divine one. We will know more when my scouts return. I will send a messenger to your tent with the news."

  "No. I will come to your tent and wait for the scouts. I had intended to wait with Nakhtmin, but he displeases me. Take me to your tent."

  "With pleasure, divine one." The charioteer, listening hard while giving the impression of not understanding a word, turned the stallions toward the north and the great camp of the northern army. Behind them, Djedhor started arguing with Nakhtmin, eventually ordering his men to fall in and escort the southern general back to his own camp beyond the dry Stream of Kemet. He went with a bad grace, but he could see as well as anyone, that he was presently in disfavour and not welcome at the king's side.

  A few thousand paces to the nor
th, the rearguard of the army, encompassing special detachments from all the legions, welcomed the king into camp. The chariot drove between neat rows of tents and evenly laid-out campfires, toward the General's tent.

  Paramessu dismounted and helped the king to the ground, holding the heavy dyed linen of the tent flap back to allow him to enter.

  The tent was large, as befits a general of the northern army, and, in honour of the king's visit, sumptuously appointed. The table and chairs were of blemish-free ebony wood inlaid with gold. A bed lay in one corner, its feet carved as the limbs of a lion and at the head, the posts rose up in carved glory as lions' heads. Hittite rugs lay on the floor, softening the stony ground and a cedar wood panel, carved and painted with the images of the gods, brightened the far end of the tent. Camphor wood chests lay close to the bed and to the table, filling the enclosed space with their pungent perfume.

  Tutankhamen looked around, a delighted expression on his face. He walked over to the bed and stared at the carved heads with their carnelian eyes, before examining the rosewood panel. "By the gods, General Paramessu," he whispered. "You live better than your king."

  "This tent and its contents were brought together solely for my lord's pleasure. The Governor of Hazor donated the table and chairs, the bed came from Hetwaret, the rug and the chests were captured two months ago when we overran an Amorite camp, and the cedar wood panel came originally from a temple of Amun. I would be honoured if my lord king were to use this tent during his illustrious campaign against the Hittite."

  Tutankhamen's face fell slightly. "It all came from elsewhere? None of it is yours?"

  "The cups are mine, lord king, and the wine." Paramessu smiled and gestured toward the table, upon which sat two ornately worked gold cups and a silver pitcher, beaded with droplets of moisture. "The overseer of my family vineyards has discovered a new way of preparing the grapes. May I pour you some, divine one?"

  "If you'll stop calling me 'divine one'," Tutankhamen grinned. "I get enough of that from my court. I hope that my General will honour me with a bit more familiarity."

  Paramessu bowed. "If it pleases you, divine...er, how would you wish me to address you?"

  "Oh, I don't know." The king thought for a few moments. "My royal wife Ankhesenamen calls me Tuti sometimes...but that would not be right...perhaps you can just call me 'lord'?"

  "As my lord wishes. May I pour you some wine, lord?" When the king nodded, Paramessu poured a stream of pale yellow liquid from the pitcher into the cups.

  "Wait, Paramessu. I wanted wine, you are pouring me water."

  The general smiled and handed one of the cups to the king. "Not so, lord. Smell, taste...this is true wine."

  The king took the proffered cup and sniffed tentatively, his eyebrows lifting at the fruity odour. He sipped, then again, before lowering the cup and beaming with pleasure. "It is delicious, yet this cannot be wine. It is the wrong colour."

  "I do not like to contradict my king," Paramessu murmured. "Yet I must. This is true wine, prepared in exactly the way normal red wine is prepared."

  Tutankhamen drank again, deeply this time. "So what are they doing differently?"

  "A new variety of grape, lord. They remove the skins, and then they trample the pulp to extract the juice and ferment it." Paramessu poured again, blessing the perspicacity of his father who had sent a jar up by camel ahead of the king's arrival, together with a letter.

  'Greetings son,' the letter had read. 'Nebkheperure will be with you within the month. Be careful, for General Nakhtmin means to destroy you. The king is only a boy still and under his thumb, but if you can isolate him, he can be won over. I gave him my Hittite knife as a gift and he rewarded me by giving permission for your son Seti to join the court when he comes of age. The king is malleable. Do what you can to bend him to our cause. I have sent the wine which I know you like, but you might try it on the lad. It is a good pressing. Take care, my son, we are beset by enemies, but with the blessing of the gods and a stout heart we shall win through. Seti.'

  Paramessu had immediately arranged for the king to be separated from Nakhtmin. He trusted his father implicitly and would follow his instructions without question. Smiling, he passed the cup of white wine to his young king. "As you can imagine, removing the skins is a lot of work, so not much is made. I have a jar just for you, lord, and I can arrange for another three jars to be ready for you when you pass victorious through Zarw on your way home--should you wish it, of course."

  "Oh, I do. Very much so. In fact, I would have you send another twenty jars to Waset from the next harvest."

  "That will take some doing, but for you lord, anything. Now, shall we discuss the war situation?"

  Tutankhamen put down his wine cup with a look of regret, but nodded. "I mean to win a great victory over the Hittite king. Do you know where his army is?"

  Paramessu frowned. "I do not believe the Hittite king is in the field, lord. As I said before, we shall know more when the scouts return, but in the meantime I can show you the latest intelligence we have on the whereabouts of Jebu and the main Amorite army." The general crossed to one of the camphor wood chests and drew out a large scroll of papyrus. Carrying it back to the table, he unrolled it and pinned the corners down with the two cups, the wine pitcher and a small alabaster unguent jar he had brought from the same chest. He pointed to the lines and annotations on the papyrus. "Do you know how to read a map, lord?"

  "Yes. My education was quite thorough." The king joined Paramessu at the table and peered down at the map. "You might have to explain some of these symbols though. Where are we on this map?"

  "Here, lord." Paramessu tapped the scroll before tracing the main lines as he spoke. "The map shows the lands of Kenaan, Amurru and northern Kemet. Here is the Great River Iteru and here..."

  "But Iteru flows the other way," Tutankhamen interrupted. "All the other maps I have seen show it differently."

  "That is because they were Kemetu maps, lord. By custom, the scribes draw the river flowing from top to bottom. This one was drawn by an Amorite scribe. He drew the river flowing bottom to top."

  "How perverse. It shows he is a barbarian. Well, go on, Paramessu."

  "Here is Iteru and here is the stream of Kemet, not far from where we are. The coast road...Hazor...the mountains that run like a spine through Kenaan...the river the locals call Yor-dan...Taanach...and here..." Paramessu tapped the map again with his forefinger. "This is where I think the Amorite army is."

  The king cocked his elongated head on one side. "You don't know?"

  "Not exactly, lord. Jebu's tactic, this past half year, has been to march away from us, refusing to be drawn into battle, staying just out of reach. When I brought the legions down to meet you, I left a force of two thousand watching him, with strict instructions not to engage the enemy."

  Tutankhamen thought about this for a few minutes. "A king...or a general...cannot keep running away without making his men lose faith in him. Jebu must have had many desertions."

  "Strangely no. In fact, I have lost many, but not through desertions. As soon as my army spreads out or groups go foraging, they run into bandits or small groups of soldiers who seem to be lost but who fall upon them, leaving few alive."

  The king contemplated the information. "How many have you lost, general?"

  "Two thousand."

  "Two thousand? You have permitted the enemy to kill two thousand of my men? Should I think about replacing you?"

  "As my lord pleases," Paramessu said, holding his face very still. "If I might suggest Djedhor as my replacement, he..."

  "I thought Nakhtmin," the king said coolly.

  "That would be a mistake," Paramessu said slowly. "He is overly ambitious and puts his interests before those of Tawi, the Two Lands."

  "But your interests are those of Tawi?"

  "Of course, my lord king. Always."

  "Then return south with me after the campaign and become my Tjaty, Paramessu. I like you much better than Ay. He is an o
ld man and should retire but he won't unless I can force him from office. You could help me."

  Paramessu felt his heart warring within him and struggled to keep his face neutral. Tjaty was the most powerful position in the land after the king. As Tjaty, he would have a good opportunity to elevate his son Seti still further. It was possible. And yet...Ay was powerful and had the backing of Horemheb. If the two of them resisted the king, the king would fall...and that would be unthinkable. Better a quiet life without honour than destroy the Ma'at, the balance of Kemet.

  "My lord, I am a general, a soldier, without the training and the statecraft to govern the Two Kingdoms. Tjaty Ay has his hand on the king's shoulder, ever ready to guide him through the troubles facing Kemet. I would not know how."

  "He has his hand on the king's throat, more like," Tutankhamen muttered. "Well, if you will not, you will not. So what do I do about the command of the northern army?"

  "I recommend Djedhor, my lord. He knows how to command."

  "I will not have Djedhor as my general of the northern army," Tutankhamen said. "Yet neither will I have Nakhtmin. I have confidence in you, General Paramessu, despite your losses...and despite your rejection of the great honour I would bestow on you."

  Paramessu bowed. "Thank you, lord."

  Tutankhamen accepted his general's obeisance, then clapped his hands and turned back to the table and the map. "So, if Jebu's army is here, and we are down here, how are we to bring him to battle? Tell me what you have done so far."

  Paramessu talked at length, filling in all the details of the last six months of campaign, outlining his efforts in chasing the Amorite army, several inconclusive skirmishes, and even falling back in the hope of provoking an attack. The king listened attentively, asking many questions and making comments that made Paramessu realise that the lad, though tender in years, had a fair grasp of tactics, if not of strategy.

  "Unfortunately, Jebu will not be drawn out, my lord. He is waiting for something, I feel sure, but whether this is for a time, or a place, or just a sign from his gods, I do not know."

  "Then we will have to give him an incentive. Nakhtmin spoke of such a thing as we traveled--how the enemy would thirst to attack me if I gave them the chance."