The Amarnan Kings, Book 3: Scarab - Tutankhamen

by Overton, Max

  "Or ten," Djutep breathed.

  "Just do not even hint at me," Scarab said forcefully. "Or he will not be the only one I kill."

  "No-one will mention you, sister," Smenkhkare laughed.

  Legions of Smenkhkare's army left the column three days later, heading for the land of the Selaim. One legion swept in openly, looting and burning, and as the Selaim gathered themselves to repulse the invaders, they fled, drawing the enemy after them. Turning to fight, the Selaim were amazed and terrified to find another two legions springing up around them from their hiding places in the long grass. The legions charged, spears held low in a refinement of their new tactics and in the space of minutes, swallowed up the Selaim. The women and children, as well as their herds, were captured and taken back in triumph to the main column which had, in the meantime, moved a few tens of thousands of paces northward.

  The Kerma were next and similar tactics led to a similar result. Hundreds more women and cattle were added to the king's wealth. Menkure brought some added news to Smenkhkare's tent as he drank beer with his legion commanders and some of the junior officers after the Kerma conquest.

  "Kasako is complaining that he does not enjoy the spoils of the Selaim and Kerma. He swears he has been slighted and demands his share."

  "He refused to help us in either battle," Shabaqo said. "If he will not fight, do not let him share in the wealth of conquest."

  "I think it is time our brother Kasako proved himself," Smenkhkare said with a smile. "Let him lead the expedition against the Senka. All the spoils can be his. That should satisfy him."

  "I'm sure it would," Menkure said sourly. "The Senka are by far the richest of the tribes. I am concerned though; that Kasako will overwhelm the Senka by force of numbers rather than strategy and the training of his men may be weakened as they revert to their old ways."

  "We can hardly insist he limits his strength against his mortal enemy."

  "Why not, your majesty? This is your army, even if most of the strength is his. You can send who you want against the Senka."

  Smenkhkare thought for several minutes, finally dismissing the junior officers and keeping his most trusted commanders behind. "I do not trust Kasako," he said in a low voice. "If I do not give him what he wants, he will rebel and my army is destroyed."

  "If you do give in, he will take it as a sign of weakness," Scarab replied. "That could also lead to disaster."

  "Your sister is right, your majesty," Menkure agreed. "Either way, Kasako means to bring about your downfall."

  "But why?" Smenkhkare looked genuinely puzzled. "He will be immensely rich after we retake the Kingdoms. I have promised him much gold and he has no reason to doubt my word."

  "He is already far richer in cattle and women than he has ever been, and if he rebels and destroys us, he will be richer still. Why should he risk his life and wealth in Kemet?"

  "Then what is to be done? Advise me, Tjaty--all of you."

  "Kill him," Djutep muttered. "Remove the threat once and for all."

  "It might be the safest course," Aspalta agreed.

  "Who would be chief in his place?" Huni asked. "Whoever was elevated to the position would immediately distrust us, and we would be in the same position."

  "Could we put a Kemetu officer in his place?" Menkure stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Somebody loyal."

  "The Suri would never accept him."

  "Yet the leadership of clan and tribe does change," Scarab said. "I have heard stories. How does this happen? Does the son inherit?"

  "Does Kasako even have a son?"

  "I can answer the inheritance," Shabaqo said. "I had dealings with the Suri before I became a soldier. If the chief dies in battle, by sickness, or generally before his time, his brother--or a son if he has one of fighting age, will inherit. The heir may have to prove himself however, by fighting any challengers."

  "So if someone killed him, we could put up a challenger to beat the heir and get control of the tribe," Djutep said triumphantly.

  "No," Shabaqo replied. "For the challenger must be of the blood family. An outsider cannot challenge."

  "Then if we cannot choose one of our own to replace him, can we aid an heir who is more amenable to our aims?" Smenkhkare asked.

  "Possibly, your majesty, but how are we to identify such a man? No name suggests itself."

  "Shabaqo, are there no other ways by which the leadership changes?"

  "There is one, Lady Scarab, but it calls for a measure of co-operation from the chief."

  "Co-operation? How?"

  "A chief may challenge a man and put his position at stake."

  "Why would he be such a fool?" Djutep asked. "He has nothing to gain and everything to lose."

  Shabaqo nodded. "It might look that way, but no man will willingly fight the chief. If he wants to fight the man, he must publicly declare his intention and offer the ultimate incentive."

  "And the tribe is bound by this decision? They would accept the winner?" Smenkhkare asked with a disbelieving frown.

  "Yes," Shabaqo said simply. "Of course, it is not quite that simple. The chief will not fight unless he is certain of victory, and he will not risk everything unless victory affords him a great prize."

  "Such as?"

  "Kasako's father desired a herd of white bulls belonging to the Kan clan. He asked for them as tribute but the clan chief refused, claiming they were a dowry for his daughters. Kasako's father challenged the man and they fought for the chieftainship and the bulls. The man died and lost his daughters as well."

  "So the man who seeks to fight Kasako for control of his tribe must have something that Kasako covets so much, he will risk everything?" Smenkhkare asked.

  "Yes, your majesty."

  "Then I must get him to challenge me," the king said grimly.

  "Wait," Menkure said. "How do they fight? With what weapons?"

  "Staves," Shabaqo replied. "It is traditional that the loser is beaten to death."

  "Then on that day, we lose our king," Menkure said flatly.

  "You hold me in such contempt?"

  "Never, your majesty, but--let me be blunt--you are not the fighting man you once were. I do not think you can win. Let me fight in your place."

  "I fight my own battles," Smenkhkare growled. "Besides, you are an archer; your fighting ability is less than my own."

  "Then let me fight, your majesty." Huni stepped forward eagerly. "I can take Kasako easily."

  "Can someone take my place in the fight?" the king asked.

  Shabaqo shook his head. "A man must fight for himself."

  Huni scowled. "I have nothing Kasako desires. He will not fight me."

  Scarab listened to the arguments, her mind racing. Suddenly, she smiled. "Huni is one of your most trusted officers and deserving of great reward, is he not, brother? Why do you not publicly honour him and heap much wealth upon him? Then perhaps if he strutted about arrogantly..." she laughed, "...as he likes to do, it might enrage someone enough to act rashly."

  The king, and his officers, looked blankly at Scarab for several moments. Menkure broke out laughing, provoking the others into mirth.

  "It might just work," Smenkhkare said with a grin. "I think it is worth trying."

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  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Ay had more time on his hands now that he was Tjaty of only Ta Shemau. His rage four years beforehand on being demoted from Tjaty of all Kemet had almost killed him, sending him to his bed with dizziness, chest pains and shortness of breath. For several long days, his life hung in the balance, and the ministrations of the physicians, far from alleviating his symptoms, introduced the new ones of shivering, nausea and diarrhoea. Despite their attentions though, he survived, and during an extended convalescent period in which the mayors of East and West Waset took over his official duties, Ay considered his future.

  "I will not be put aside by this boy who pretends to be a king," he snarled to a young concubine that he had tak
en to his bed. "I made him king in the first place, I can remove him whenever I want."

  Ay saw the unease and fear in the young girl's eyes and realised he had said too much. He sent for his steward Mentopher, and had him strangle the girl.

  "Find me another for tonight," Ay told his steward as he carried the body from the Tjaty's bedchamber. He resolved that he would not be so foolhardy again. "It is the illness that talks," he muttered. "I must have someone I can trust." Ay considered his options. Many people worked for him or were in his pay in one way or another, but none knew the depths of the Tjaty's thoughts and few could be trusted to keep their conversations private. Except one , he thought.

  "Bring General Nakhtmin to me."

  The general arrived within the hour and was ushered into the Tjaty's presence. He bowed and allowed himself to be seated and plied with a cup of the new wine from Ay's estates.

  "How may I be of service, Lord Ay?" Nakhtmin asked quietly.

  "I will get to that shortly, but first answer me this--where do you hope to be in ten year's time?"

  "Where, my lord?" Nakhtmin looked puzzled. "I am not looking to be going anywhere."

  "I meant your position in life, General Nakhtmin, when you dream of the future--what do you see?"

  Nakhtmin hesitated, trying to gauge the Tjaty's mood. "I...I see myself in service to you, my lord...and to Kemet, of course," he added hurriedly.

  "Of course, but those are answers I would expect of a junior officer, not one who stands high in the Kemetu army. What of yourself? What would you wish for yourself? Land? Women? Gold?"

  "Power, my lord, for all other things are subjugated to it. Even everlasting fame is dependent on power. The peasant is forgotten when he dies, but the names of kings and generals live on."

  "Ah, now we see what the man is made of," Ay murmured. "You are a general already, Nakhtmin," he continued conversationally. "Is this as high as you aspire?"

  Nakhtmin hesitated again, desperate to know the Tjaty's mind before committing himself to a possible indiscretion. "I would rise as far as possible through your good offices, my lord."

  Ay's lip curled derisively. "That is a coward's answer. If you have nothing better for me, you may leave my service. I have no use for hesitant men."

  Nakhtmin swallowed and took hold of his resolve. "I would be Tjaty after you...and more, if the opportunity came to hand." His right hand grasped at air and made a crushing motion.

  "Good. I seek a strong man who wants what I want, and is completely loyal...to me. Are you that man, Nakhtmin?"

  "I am, my lord Ay."

  "Swear it."

  Nakhtmin dropped to his knees on the tiled stone floor of Ay's bedchamber and stared up at the lined face of the old man. "I swear in the name of every god and in the hope of my life here and in the world to come, that I will give my...my undying loyalty to Tjaty, Lord Ay, and...and to no other." He felt the hairs on his neck prickle with superstitious fear at the gravity of his oath, cutting out his oath to the king, and hurriedly added, "...until such time as he release me of it."

  "Forever," Ay corrected. "For I will not release you of it."

  Nakhtmin gulped and repeated the oath, substituting 'forever' in the place of the last phrase.

  Ay nodded and smiled. "Arise, Nakhtmin, for I too swear an oath to the gods, should they truly exist. You shall, from this day, be my son. I formally adopt you into my family and swear that you will be my legal heir, inheritor of all my wealth."

  Nakhtmin stumbled to his feet, pale, and with his mouth open. "Y...you adopt me, Tjaty? As a son? But...but I have a father--Djetmaktef."

  "No more. I have come to an arrangement whereby Djetmaktef gains title to sufficient land to divide amongst his other heirs that all might live in comfort."

  "You bought me, Tjaty?"

  Ay smiled and shook his head. "One does not buy a son. I merely, as a loving father, ensured that his son's relatives were well taken care of. What sort of a father would neglect his family?"

  "I do not know what to say."

  "Then say nothing, my son."

  Nakhtmin crossed to the window of the bedchamber and looked out at the night. The clear air enabled even the smallest lights from East Waset to be seen across the dark stream of Iteru and the broad expanse of farmland. A sharp familiar scent of manure and living things drifted in through the window, sending the general's thoughts back over the years to his father's--his real father's--holdings near Ta-senet, and his own childhood.

  How can I do this ? he thought. I cannot just deny my own father, it is not right . He remembered his brothers and sisters, playing with them in the harvested barley, scattering the precious ears and being beaten for it. What will become of them ? His eldest brother worked the land alongside his father; the younger was a merchant's apprentice. The sisters had all married, though none of them well, and were raising families of their own. If it were not for the gold I send home, they would be hungry already. Do I dare turn aside from this offered course ? Nakhtmin bowed his head and sighed. My father has sold me for gold. Can I truly blame him ? He turned back to face his Tjaty.

  "What of your own family, my lord? Will they not object to an interloper?"

  "I have buried three wives and two sons. One daughter is in exile if she still lives and the other is childless on my estates. I had six grand-daughters, only one of whom still lives--Queen Ankhesenamen. She seems incapable of bearing live children. No, Nakhtmin, none of my family will object to you."

  "Then, my lord--father--I humbly accept your generosity. I swear I will be a dutiful son."

  Ay smiled thinly and shuffled over to pour himself another cup of wine. "I am sure you will, son, but you must realise that all I have to offer you is wealth. Gold alone will not win you power."

  "You are Tjaty."

  "Of Ta Shemau only, and the position of Tjaty is not hereditary."

  Nakhtmin frowned. "You have experience, wisdom, and connections. They must count for something."

  "While I am living, you shall have everything, my son, but I would leave you a position too."

  "You said the position of Tjaty is not hereditary."

  Ay sipped from his wine cup then put it down and looked calmly at his adopted son. "I am not speaking about being Tjaty. There is something greater."

  "Greater? There is only one thing greater..." Nakhtmin's eyes grew wide and he gasped. "Lord Ay, father, take care, I beg you." He looked swiftly round the room for an overlooked servant and even ran to look out of the window in case a late-working gardener should be tending the shrubbery outside. "Who knows who may be listening," Nakhtmin whispered.

  "My servants are hand picked," Ay said calmly. "But it is to your credit that you are cautious."

  "Such talk could get us both arrested and executed, and being Tjaty would be no protection."

  "Do I take it that you are not interested in such a prize?"

  "I did not say that, father. It is just that...that I had not dreamt such a thing was possible."

  "No longer just possible, Nakhtmin, but almost within our grasp. All it takes is a strong man to reach out and pluck the crown from a boy's head."

  "Just like that?"

  "Of course not," Ay snapped. "When has anything worthwhile been that easy? But a resolute man will find a way. What do you know of the royal family, of the descendants of Nebmaetre Amenhotep?"

  Nakhtmin shrugged. "What any man knows..." He cast a sly look at his new father before adding, "And a little bit more. I know that there are two male descendants, Djeserkheperu Smenkhkare and Nebkheperure Tutankhamen, not just the king everyone thinks is the sole heir. Only one in the female line though. Not much to base a dynasty on."

  "You are well-informed. That is good. However, I believe Smenkhkare will not be a problem for many years, if at all. He disappeared into the wilderness of Kush and he has not been heard from in four years." Ay hesitated, wondering whether to expand on this, then decided not to for the time being. "That leaves just the king and queen
and they seem unable to have live children."

  "And you mean to oust them?" Nakhtmin asked uncertainly.

  Ay shook his head. "That way lies civil war. Horemheb would almost certainly move against me, and the priests and nobles would rebel too. No, any action taken must, on the outside, appear to be legal and incontrovertible. For that I need a strong and resolute man."

  "I am that man," Nakhtmin declared. "Tell me what must be done, father."

  Despite his earlier words, Ay got up and went to the door, telling the guards present outside it to leave. He closed and bolted the door and checked the window, peering out into the darkened shrubs for any sign of human life.

  "I thought you said your servants were trustworthy?"

  Ay smiled wryly. "They are, but just mentioning the name of Horemheb made me suspicious. That man has got in my way more than once." He returned to his chair and sat down, leaning forward to talk quietly. "The king escaped from my control five years ago when he went to war with the Hittites. You remember that, Nakhtmin--you were supposed to be there to control him."

  "If you had trusted me more, I would have known what to do," the general muttered.

  "Very true, and I do not blame you. However, the king decided to return only as far as Men-nefer and furthermore, he slashed my duties and made Horemheb Tjaty of Ta Mehu. Since then, he has slipped further from my control and more under the influence of that man."

  "If the king is in Men-nefer and Horemheb is Tjaty there, then how can you possibly regain control?"

  "I cannot, so we must change one of those things." Ay smiled at the look of incomprehension on his adopted son's face. "The king must be persuaded to return to Waset. After all, it is the City of Amun and his family's traditional seat of power."

  "How will you persuade him? He has gone to great lengths to remove himself from your control. I hardly think he will willingly return."

  "I think he will with the right argument. Do not forget that the queen is my grand-daughter. I will lure her with those things that attract all women, jewelry. I have some still that belonged to her mother Nefertiti. Once I have her, the king will follow docilely--if he wishes to be reunited with his wife."