The Amarnan Kings, Book 3: Scarab - Tutankhamen

by Overton, Max

  Jebu squinted up at the sun, judging the time by its position and trying to estimate how far he'd come. He looked down at the ground again and noticed the sandy soil was trampled and scuffed from the presence of Ephras' troops...how long ago was that? Surely not just yesterday ? They had stood in this small valley; waiting to spring the trap...was Ephras in on the plot too? Did he betray me ?

  Something brown lay on the yellowish soil, rounded and hairy, and Jebu frowned, staring at it, concentrating. He moved forward and picked it up, scarcely believing his fortune. It was a water skin, dropped by one of the waiting soldiers. Jebu weighed it in his hand, estimating. Nearly empty, a mouthful or two, maybe . The cloth plug was tight and Jebu found he could not hold it securely in his left hand and pull at the same time. He shouted with frustration before gripping the cloth in his teeth and pulling back steadily. The bung popped out and he spat the matted folds out, raising the neck of the skin to his mouth with a trembling hand. The first warm water gushed into his mouth but little of it made its way into his parched throat, the tissues of his mouth absorbing it. He gulped painfully and nearly choked on the second, smaller gush. A third followed, a driblet that slid down leaving his tongue working the last drops from the skin.

  Jebu sat on a nearby rock and waited for his racing heart to calm down before moving on. Three gulps of water would not save his life, but they might extend it long enough to find a water source, providing he kept moving. The valley became steeper and his staggering walk slowed. He forced his legs to move, taking care on the loose soil and rock after a misjudged step sent him tumbling. The flare of pain from his stump tipped him into unconsciousness and the sun had dipped below the valley wall by the time he revived. A breach in the steep sides encouraged him to climb out, scrambling over cascaded rubble to achieve a landscape jumbled with boulders and eroded rocks. Few plants grew here and scraggy, bare stems with a few withered leaves did not augur well for the presence of water. The only alternative was back the way he had come, so he forged on until sunset and exhaustion forced him to stop in the shelter of a rocky overhang.

  The night was cold and the pain from his wounds meant Jebu slept only fitfully, wakening with the dawn, stiff, cold and weak. He sat for a long time in the shade of the overhang, not being able to raise the energy even to move out into the warming sun, and took stock of his injuries. The stump of his arm felt hot, and fresh blood had broken through the caked mud. His leg was sore and the puncture marks from the jackal's teeth were red and inflamed. He touched his scalp wound and was relieved that it was no worse, and even his headache had receded somewhat. The bruising to his chest and side looked worrying, all purple and blue but felt easier, even to the touch. Jebu closed his eyes and leaned back against the rock. Should I just resign myself to death? My wounds are likely to kill me anyway. Why keep on struggling ? He knew the answer though and opened his eyes again.

  Jebu noticed a pair of small birds, drab brown and gray in plumage, sitting on a rock nearby, twittering and preening. Every few moments, one would dive down out of sight for a little while, before appearing again and shaking its feathers. He stared at them for several minutes, just enjoying the sight of other living things in this wilderness. The birds flew off and Jebu watched them go with regret. How do they live out here? What do they ...? He stiffened, staring toward the rock again. Water? Or dust ? Birds bathed in both, he knew. If there is even a chance of water ...Jebu struggled to his feet and stumbled toward the rock, collapsing on top of it and peering over the edge.

  Two man-heights below him, in a rock basin fed by dampness clinging to the side, was a small pool of green-tinged water. Jebu gave a croak of triumph and eased himself around the edge of the rock and half climbed, half fell to the floor of the basin. A sandy shelf, marked by the prints of many small animals, led to the water's edge. He took little notice of these but scrambled on his knees and fell face down, lowering his head into the shallow pool, his throat working convulsively. After what seemed like a long time, he lifted his head and groaned, rolling onto his back and closing his eyes. Moments later he scrambled to get away from the pool before his stomach heaved and warm water gushed back, vomiting up from his overloaded stomach. He coughed and gasped, retching and shivering until the spasms passed and he plucked up the strength and determination to return to the pool. Jebu drank more slowly this time, and stopped sooner, and the water stayed down. Stretching out on the sun-warmed sand, Jebu closed his eyes and slept.

  He awoke again as the evening stars brightened and, crawling to the pool, drank again, more deeply. Thirst conquered, hunger pains gnawed at his belly and Jebu considered his situation. Alone, wounded and with no man to turn to for aid, he knew that his only hope of survival lay in his own abilities. He had been betrayed by his king, his friend and his second-in-command. Looking up at the pale evening sky, he prayed aloud to Utu the god of Justice.

  "Lord Utu, hear my prayer. I have been betrayed by three men to my injury and humiliation when I had done them no wrong. I ask for justice, I ask for them to be delivered into my hands...my hand. I name Aziru, son of Abdishirta; Ashraz his spymaster; and Ephras, my own lieutenant."

  Jebu waited, hoping for some sign that the god had granted his prayer. He had no idea what sort of sign the god gave, but knew that one would be given if the god supported him. A bat flitted above the pool, hunting insects, and Jebu smiled. It was not exactly a peal of thunder or a lightning blast, but he was a humble man in straitened circumstances--it would suffice.

  "Lord Utu, I give thanks that you have listened to my prayer, but if I am to succeed, I must live, and to do that I must eat. Send me food, Lord Utu, and I will repay you hundredfold--fat oxen from the herds of my enemies."

  Again, he waited for a sign. After a long time, he heard a soft footfall and the tiny clink of a pebble dislodged in the rocks above him. He kept very still and watched from the cover of a rock near the pool of water and at last he saw the lithe form of a wild cat with something in its jaws. The cat glided from shadow to shadow, watchful, wary, but thirsty after sleeping the day away and hunting for its dinner. Finally, the scent of the water proved too great a temptation and it dropped its prey, stood for a moment snuffing the still air of the hollow, before walking warily down to the water's edge. It lowered its head and Jebu heard the faint lapping of its tongue.

  Jebu gathered himself in almost complete silence but the cat heard something and raised its head, starlight glinting from its eyes as it sought the source of the sound. The bowl-shaped concavity in the rocks hindered its acute senses however, the faint sound echoing off the rocks. Jebu waited until the cat's head turned away and, taking a deep breath, launched himself toward the small body lying on the sand.

  The wild cat moved, lunging back toward its prey, at the sharp inhalation of breath. It blurred across the pale sand, scooped its victim in its jaws and bunched its muscles to spring up the rock wall. In that instant, Jebu's left hand caught a tiny, cold hind leg and he gripped desperately, even as the stump of his right arm landed heavily beneath him. He screamed, piercingly, and the cat, rather than wresting its prey from Jebu's feeble grip, dropped the animal and leaped, startled, for the safety of the rocks.

  Fighting to remain conscious, for he knew the cat could return and claim its prize unless he defended it, Jebu rolled into a ball, tucking the dead animal away, under his tunic. The waves of pain slowly abated and as they did he unrolled and examined his food in the dim light of the stars. More by touch than by sight, he identified it as a large mouse or small rat and he wrinkled his nose at the thought of devouring it.

  "Thank you, Lord Utu. I will repay a hundredfold." Which should be about the size of a small goat , he thought. Well, I have eaten rats before. They can be quite tasty roasted over...no fire . Jebu cursed, careful not to imply his profanity was associated with the gods. He carried the tiny body back to the shelter of the rock and laid it in his lap, wondering how to proceed. After a while, as hunger built within him, he raised the body to his mouth a
nd carefully bit through the furred skin of the back, almost retching at the taste and texture. Inserting a finger into the hole in the skin, he worked it around, slowly tearing and peeling the skin back from the flesh beneath. He worked steadily, disliking the slimy feel of the skin but knowing his survival lay on his lap. Finally, he had the entire body exposed, except for a trim of fur around the feet and base of the tail. The skin itself hung forward over the rat's head, obscuring the reproachful gaze of its dead eyes.

  Think of it as a feast, the succulent haunch of a lamb lightly seared over a wood fire with just a hint of herbs and rock salt . Jebu found his mouth watering and before he lost his nerve, bit into the muscle of one of the rat's thighs, ripping the flesh off and swallowing it quickly. As long as he did not chew, the meat was fairly innocuous and he forced it down, trying to think of other things. He worked his way over all four legs, stripping away the muscle, and then turned to the light covering of meat and fat on the body wall. Here he made a mistake and bit too deeply into the stomach wall, piercing the cavity and flooding his mouth with the pooled blood and juices of its internal organs. He retched and dropped the rat, turning away with jaws clenched as he fought not to vomit. Lose it now and it's the end of everything , he thought desperately. It was a hard-fought battle, but he won, spitting out the foulness and forcing back the nausea. Jebu decided not to risk any more sustenance from the rat, although his body cried out for more. Later, when I've digested this . He rolled over and curled in a ball against the deepening chill of the night, falling asleep rapidly despite his pain and hunger.

  Jebu awoke with the dawn and lay awake for a while, staring up at the graying sky. The chill air bit through his armoured tunic and he shivered, wishing again for the means to make a fire. Stiffly, he rose and stumbled to the far end of the concavity to relieve himself. The sun had risen sufficiently to cast a bit of warmth into the hollow by the time he returned to the pool. He washed his mouth out, tasting the body fluids of the rat again, and spat to one side. Then he drank deeply and belched. Food , he thought. Where're the remains of the rat ?

  The stripped carcass lay near the pool, black with ants. They had cleaned most of the flesh away from the bones, leaving only the skin, tail and feet. Jebu grimaced and sat down in the warming rays of the sun to watch them. The activity and the warm sun attracted other animals too; the small birds flew to the rock above the pool and scolded him, not daring to fly down. A lizard sat on a rock near the pool, absorbing heat and cocking its head to watch the scurrying ants. After a few minutes it crept down to the sand and across to the rat remains where it dipped its head and snapped up an ant. Jebu watched it closely as it moved closer, one step at a time. He bunched his legs under him and as the lizard's head went down for another ant, lunged. The lizard blurred across the sand, its legs stuck out to the side and cycling frantically. Jebu's hand brushed it and it spasmed, its tail falling off and thrashing wildly as it leaped for the safety of a crevice. Jebu cursed and brushed the sand off him then noticed the twitching tail. He picked it up and looked at it curiously; two tiny drops of bright blood oozing from the stump. Shrugging, he popped it into his mouth and swallowed, feeling it wriggle as it went down.

  The lizard did not return to look for its tail, but another one did and Jebu caught this one. He skinned it carefully and cut open the body wall with his fingernail, scooping out the insides and laying them to one side to attract more ants. A handful or two of water washed the blood from the little body and he bit into it, crunching the tiny bones, chewing and swallowing.

  While he waited for more lizards to show up, Jebu examined his wounds. Only his hand and the jackal bite seemed serious and he noticed yellow pus forming in the bite wounds. Grimacing at the stink, he limped across to the pool and scooping water out with his hand, washed the bite marks out thoroughly. Jebu knew that cleaning a wound was pointless, and perhaps unsafe, but the sight and smell of the pus made his stomach feel queasy and he would not risk nausea. His arm stump was a different matter and he knew something of what he must do. The wound was bleeding again and it should really be cauterised. A hot knife would do it, or even the open flames of a fire, or bubbling naphtha--he had employed all three on his men after skirmishes--but he had none of them. Instead, he would have to tie it off.

  Carefully, and crying out with pain, he broke the crusted earth and other matter from his bleeding stump. The flesh underneath was hot and red. Gritting his teeth, Jebu splashed water onto it and almost grinned from pleasure at the cool sensation. He rubbed gently with his fingers, working away the last of the grime and held the stump up, examining it carefully.

  The Kemetu soldier who had taken his hand appeared to have used a sharp ax or sword, striking cleanly in a single blow across the wrist, missing the bones of the lower arm. The flesh was angry and inflamed, but there was no noticeable stink of pus. Several white cords and crushed tubes extended from the stump and Jebu looked at them in fascination. What are they? What do they do ? One of the tubes moved slightly and the edge unfurled sending a tiny jet of bright red blood spurting. Uh, not good .

  Jebu tore at the lower edge of his tunic, using a sharp fragment of rock to worry a hole in the fabric. He tore it, tugging off a thin strip of linen. Wrapping it around the stump, he tried to ignore the steadily growing patch of blood staining the sand. Using his teeth, he pulled the cord tight, then tighter, determined to cut off the flow of blood. Eventually, just as the pain grew excruciating, the flow dribbled to a stop. Clumsily, he tied it off and sat back panting as his arm throbbed. Jebu stood the pain as long as he could but in the end, had to worry the knot apart. The relief from pain was wonderful but the blood started to spurt again. Hurriedly, he tied the cord once more. All that day, and half the night, Jebu bore the crushing ache under the linen cord until he could stand no more. The blood would flow again and the cycle restarted. Toward moonrise, he fell into an exhausted sleep and did not wake until the sun was high in the sky. His outstretched arm lay in a patch of bloodstained sand. The linen cord had slipped in the night and the tube leaked its blood again--but more sluggishly this time, tailing off to a slow ooze. A day or two later, he got rid of the linen noose strangling his arm. The ache was still dreadful, but by now, Jebu realised he could bear it as long as he kept his mind focused. He held thoughts of revenge in his head and concentrated on catching lizards. Each catch meant more scraps to lure the ants which attracted more lizards. Jebu watched impotently as succulent desert mice and rats scampered, half-seen bats flitted, and serpents slithered across the sand to use the shrinking pool of water. His mouth would water at the sight of something other than lizard meat, but they moved too quickly for his clumsy left-handed grabs.

  When each evening came and the lizards disappeared into their crevices, he gathered pebbles and small rocks and practiced throwing them. Throwing with his left hand felt awkward and he had almost no control over the direction of the stone, and its force was pitiful. He persevered though, because it gave him something to do rather than brood over his injuries and betrayal. Another good reason was that learning to throw stones might stand him in very good stead when it came to catching more substantial food. As the days passed and his hunger grew, he became more adept. He could throw stones further, with more force, and greater accuracy. On the day he stunned a viper, leaping across to crush its head with a large rock, he shouted out his defiance, screaming at the heavens in an ecstasy. That day, he filled his stomach with the sweet flesh of the snake and went to sleep content.

  The next morning, the concavity, with its shrunken pool of stagnant water seemed small, and Jebu knew it was time to move on. He sat down and examined his wounds once more, nodding in satisfaction at the scars on his calf, but pursing his lips at his arm stump. The end had scabbed over and while it still ached abominably, the leakage of blood and thin straw-coloured fluid from the cracks in the scab were slight. It will do. Time I moved on .

  Drinking deeply of the green water, Jebu bade a half reluctant farewell to the rock bas
in that had saved his life. He clambered slowly and carefully up the sloping sides until he stood looking down on it. Below, on a rock in the sun, one of the few remaining lizards watched him go, its black eyes expressionless. Jebu saluted it with his stump and turned to the north, toward familiar territory and revenge.

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  Chapter Nineteen

  King Nebkheperure Tutankhamen was enjoying himself immensely. They had found him a chariot and a driver and now he was standing in the back of it, dressed in his blood-stained kilt and blue leather war crown, being cheered by his army. Up and down the ranks of the wildly cheering men he drove, his attempts at a serious and warlike demeanor spoiled only by his wide boyish grin.

  "I am a warrior king," he said aloud to himself. "I have followed in the footsteps of my ancestor Menkheperure Thutmose and my father Nebmaetre Amenhotep. I met my enemies in battle and smote the Hittite, throwing his army into confusion and slaughtering his men. My name will live forever."

  The driver listened but said nothing, knowing the truth of the battle. He concentrated on driving carefully, keeping the horses under tight control as the soldiers surged forward, yelling their praises of their young king. He passed a huge pile of severed hands and the king fell silent, staring at the bloodied limbs. This dampening of his spirits did not last long and soon he was once again waving and grinning at the clapping and stamping soldiers. After another turn around the cheering army, he directed the driver toward the temporary camp set up in the plain within sight of the battlefield. He had wanted to return to the base camp near the Stream of Kemet, with its comforts, but Paramessu had all but vetoed the suggestion.