The Amarnan Kings, Book 3: Scarab - Tutankhamen

by Overton, Max

  A staff was thrust into Scarab's hands and she realised the old man had stopped talking and was looking at her compassionately. She took the proffered weapon and ran her hands over the smooth pale wood, feeling for knots or weaknesses. There were none and she nodded her thanks to the old man. Kasako stood waiting a few paces away, his massive right hand making his staff look like a twig as he tapped the ground with its blunt tip. The old man bowed to both contestants and hurried to the side of the arena.

  Scarab glanced over toward the pale faces of her friends and tried to smile reassuringly, her features managing only a stiff grimace. The staff was almost torn from her hands and she staggered back, startled. Her fingers still ached from the sharp rap of Kasako's staff on hers.

  "Pay attention, little girl," Kasako rasped. "Or this fight will be over before it starts." He reached out with his staff and jabbed it at Scarab's midriff. "I would have some sport first."

  Scarab stepped back out of range and examined the man's stance. His relaxed body exuded confidence and he held his weapon casually. How fast can he move ? To test it, she darted forward, her staff whipping toward his thigh. Kasako blocked it easily and stepped back, an infuriating smile on his face. She tried again, stabbing this time, aiming for his chest. He turned quickly, and as the wood passed by, reached out and rapped his own staff on Scarab's head. She felt her vision blur and an instant later the pain flooded over her. Stumbling back, she shook her head gingerly to clear it, feeling her stomach roil as if she was about to vomit.

  Kasako moved after her, his muscles rippling as he strode, his staff flicking out, probing her defenses then cracking her across the ribcage. A welt formed instantly, and Scarab bit back her cry of agony. She swung her own staff instead of retreating though, and as Kasako stepped forward, expecting to be pursuing her as she fled, her blow connected with his elbow. With a bellow of rage and pain he dropped his staff and retreated a few steps, rubbing his injured arm.

  Scarab allowed herself a smile and straddled Kasako's fallen staff, holding her own two-handed, waiting for his next move. It followed almost immediately. Kasako charged forward, so fast Scarab could manage only a single blow to the man's side before his shoulder knocked her backward off her feet. She landed heavily and rolled, scrambling back as Kasako snatched his staff from the ground and slammed it into the earth beside her, and again. Lurching to her feet, she blocked the big man's blows as they rained down on her, her staff vibrating and trembling with their force. She was driven back, almost to the edge of the circle, fighting for breath. Another step back, and another, then she stumbled into the men at the edge of the circle. With a roar of laughter, they pushed her forward and Kasako miss-timed his swing and she collided with his slippery sweat-covered body. He pushed back and the two of them exchanged a volley of blows before Scarab turned and ran across the arena. She stood twenty paces away, wiping the sweat from her eyes, her lungs labouring for needed air, as Kasako walked slowly across to her, grinning.

  "Nearly over, little girl. Only a little more pain and you shall have your reward." Kasako stopped and flipped his loincloth aside, revealing his member, already swelling as he turned his mind to thoughts of what was to come. "You were wrong, little Scarab, this is no mouse." He grinned in anticipation.

  Scarab shrugged, wincing with pain. "Depends what you are used to," she said. "I have seen boys on the streets of Waset more generously endowed."

  Kasako's grin turned to a scowl. "You think so? Well, you will find out soon enough." He came forward again, his staff moving in a blur. Scarab blocked frantically, retreating before the chief's assault. The volleys forced her to her knees and caught up in the fury of his attack, he aimed a double-handed overhand blow that would have split her skull had it landed.

  Scarab caught it on her upraised staff and the wood split and shattered, leaving her with a piece in each of her aching hands. She stared at it stupidly until Kasako reversed his staff and struck again with the butt just below her chest, winding her. Her breath rushed out and she dropped the pieces of her staff on the ground, curling up and whooping for breath, struggling to pull air into her lungs.

  Kasako bellowed in triumph and dropped to his knees beside the girl as she writhed in agony, fighting for her breath. He ripped away the binding cloth around her chest, grinning in delight as her breasts spilled free, then tore her loincloth off.

  A rumble of desire sounded deep in his chest as his eyes roamed over her naked body. "I have a mind to take you here, girl, before everybody. Would your shame be complete if I did that?" He laid down his staff and touched her, stroking her hair, gently fondling her sides and hips as if mocking the act of love before roughly thrusting his hand between her thighs.

  Scarab felt his invasion, shame and anger darkening her cheeks. As the moments of her shame passed, her breath came easier though still painfully and her vision cleared enough to take in the man kneeling beside her. He laughed gutturally and dug with his finger, forcing a cry of pain from her. Her hand shot out to grasp a fragment of her staff and she prayed to Set, one of the Nine of Iunu and the soldiers' god, for strength. She slashed at her tormentor and suddenly his nails scraped her viciously as he snatched his hand away, falling backward with a scream of agony.

  Scarab rolled away and forced herself to stand, swaying, with her broken staff in her hand. She hardly noticed the blood trickling down her thighs as she struggled for the breath and strength to continue the fight.

  Kasako sat on the ground with his head in his hands, blood likewise spattering his torso. He looked up at the naked girl standing in front of him and dropped his hands to reveal the gory ruin of his left eye. "I will kill you for this," he hissed.

  His hand reached for his staff and Scarab knew that if he reached it, she would die. She threw herself forward angling to her right, his blind side, and slashed again with her short, splintered weapon. It connected with his neck and the chief grunted, grabbed his staff and swung blindly. The wood cracked against her calves and swept her legs out from under her. Not seeing her fall, Kasako stumbled to his feet and stood, legs apart and weaving his head from side to side to catch a glimpse of his foe.

  "Where are you, bitch?" he muttered.

  "Here!" Scarab called, and as the Chief swung round to face her, she took the staff in both hands and swung it with all her might at his head. The wood cracked on his skull, blood gushing immediately as the skin split. Kasako dropped his staff and swayed, then, as his eyes rolled in his head, fell senseless. Scarab stared down at her fallen enemy, hardly daring to believe she was alive. Her body was awash with pain and every movement brought fresh agony. She looked around the circle of silent men, her eyes coming to rest on her brother and her friends.

  "I did it," she croaked. Scarab frowned at the continuing silence. "What is wrong?"

  "The chief still lives," quavered the elder who had spoken before. "The contest must end in death."

  "But I have beaten him," Scarab said despairingly. "Isn't that enough?"

  "Kill him," Menkure called. "It must be done."

  Scarab lowered her eyes to Kasako's body. Though unconscious and his face covered in blood, he still breathed, laboriously and loudly. She lowered the jagged point of her splintered staff to the man's chest and pushed until the point dimpled the skin before withdrawing. "I cannot. He is defenseless."

  "He would not falter if it was him standing over you," Menkure said.

  "Kill him," Smenkhkare ordered.

  Scarab tried again, pushing down until the man's breath stuttered. She closed her eyes to shut out his final moments and...the staff was knocked away as Kasako rolled and rose to his knees, his hands reaching out blindly for her, grasping her leg in a blood-slippery hand.

  His single eye glared through the mask of blood as he pulled her feet out from under her, despite her efforts to free herself. The jagged point of wood jabbed and pierced his back but Kasako no longer seemed to notice it. Breathing heavily, he hauled himself onto Scarab's naked body and transferred his
grip to her throat.

  The wood splinter was too long to use successfully with her enemy so close, so Scarab dropped it and beat at the Suri chief's face with her fists, striving to reach his good eye with her nails. He kept his head turned away, suffering the long ragged wounds to his cheeks in silence, keeping her at arm's length as he increased the pressure on her neck. She felt the blood pounding in her head as she twisted and struggled to draw breath. Abruptly, her hands fell back and she drew first her knees up against the man's chest, then her feet. She pushed hard, feeling the pressure on her throat slacken slightly as his fingers slipped in the blood, but she could not sustain the effort against Kasako's bulk and he renewed his grip.

  Scarab could feel herself dying. Her legs remained drawn up between her and Kasako and her hands still feebly fluttered against her sides as she sought some escape, but her mind existed in a roaring, throbbing haze becoming increasingly more distant with every passing second. She felt regret--regret that she would not see her brother's triumphant return to the throne of Kemet, that she would never see her friends again, that she would never now marry her Paramessu and...and never see my son again . The last thought stirred a longing and a last burst of anger. Why have the gods led me to this? O Nine of Iunu, why have you turned away from me ?

  Scarab dimly felt a vibration deep within the earth and heard a whisper in her ear. "I am Geb ," the voice seemed to say. "I am the god of growing things and wood is my bone. Stretch out your hand and plant my wood in the soil."

  Obedient to the god's voice, Scarab stretched out her right hand and grasped the splinter of her staff again. Without knowing why she did it, she planted one end into the ground and heaved with her final strength against the crushing weight of the man on top of her. The pressure on her throat did not ease, but a tiny gap appeared between their bodies and she drew the bone of the god toward her. She fluttered into unconsciousness and the weight came down again.

  The darkness and silence shattered into shards of light and sound that fell crashing around her. Is this the afterlife ? she thought. Oddly, Khu's voice intruded though surely he was not dead too.

  "Scarab, you are not dead. Scarab."

  The shards flowed and joined and with her senses came the pain. Every part of her ached and her breath flayed her throat like acid as it flowed. I'm breathing...I'm alive . The crushing weight fell away and she opened her eyes to the most beautiful blue she had ever seen.

  "Scarab, you must get up."

  "No," she whispered. "Just let me lie here."

  A face appeared above her, upside down, then another, blocking the beautiful blue vault of sky. "You must get up, Scarab," Khu repeated, urgency in his voice.

  "It is true, Great Warrior Woman," the Suri elder said. "Unless you can claim victory, it will not be granted."

  "I won?" Scarab closed her eyes, wondering how that had happened.

  "Get up," Khu said sharply.

  Scarab opened her eyes again and smiled gently. "Dear Khu, I thought I would never see you again."

  "Get up."

  "You are a bully. Help me up then," Scarab whispered.

  "I cannot. You must rise of your own strength or it means nothing." When she did nothing but stare at him, he leaned closer, trying to imbue his words with importance and urgency. "Time is running out, Scarab. Unless you can claim the prize, the chieftainship, they will believe you crippled and unable to lead. You're not crippled are you?"

  Scarab tried moving fingers and toes experimentally. "I don't think so, but I'm naked. Where is my loincloth?"

  "I can do nothing, not even find you that, until you get up and claim your rights."

  Scarab sighed. "I'm so tired, Khu, and I hurt..."

  "You are naked, Lady Beketaten, in front of a crowd of common men who are being titillated by the sight of your naked sex. Get up and cover yourself. You shame us all."

  Scarab flushed and looked away from Khu's accusing eyes. With a groan she rolled over and pushed herself up on her arms, her head hanging and her filthy hair matted and falling around her eyes. She looked up and saw a segment of the ring of men staring at her in silence. Anger rose in her breast and she drew her legs up and staggered to her feet, standing there and swaying as her vision grayed momentarily. To one side of her stood Khu and the Suri elder, and to the other lay the body of Kasako, her splintered staff deep in his chest where his own weight had pushed it. She brushed her blood-soiled hair back and faced the watching crowd of Suri, pivoting slowly to include them all.

  "Men of Suri," she croaked. She cleared her throat and went on, her words hurting her, adding to the agony that filled her whole body with fire. "I have killed your chief, Kasako, in fair battle for the leadership of the tribe, as agreed on before all. I now claim leadership of the Suri." For a long time there was almost complete silence, broken only by the distant lowing of the herds and the crying of children. She stood naked, clothed only in the dirt of the arena and the blood of her enemy, unashamed now that she faced the watching men.

  Then a man stepped out of the ring of watching men and addressed the tribe. "The Suri are a warrior tribe. How can a woman lead us?"

  The elder beside Scarab answered him. "You have seen this woman fight, Psuto, and not just any man. She fought Kasako, whom none of you would dare to fight. Surely this is a warrior woman who can lead the Suri?"

  "She won by luck," Psuto said. "Kasako was defeated by his own weight rather than her skill."

  "I won because the god Geb, one of the nine gods I follow, told me how to defeat him," Scarab called.

  "Either way," the elder cried. "Whether by luck or with the guidance of a god, this woman prevailed. Will you turn away luck? Will you reject a person loved by her god? And remember, she has nine gods. Such a person must be a mighty leader indeed."

  The tribe erupted into a flood of conversation, arguing for Psuto or for the elder. After several minutes, the elder held up his arms for quiet, waiting until the noise diminished. "What say you, men of Suri? Will you accept Scarab as your chief?"

  A chorus of cheers broke out together with a scattering of angry voices. The cheers quickly grew, feeding upon themselves until the whole tribe roared its affirmation of its new chief. The elder turned to Scarab, a wide toothless grin on his wrinkled face. "Chief Scarab, your tribe awaits your pleasure."

  Scarab put a hand to her head as the ring of faces spun and blurred. "Khu, I rather think I'm going..." She fainted, falling into Khu's arms as he rushed forward to catch her. Smenkhkare, his dignity forgotten, ran out into the ring with Nebhotep on his heels, elated from Scarab's victory but deeply concerned as to the extent of her injuries. The Suri started ululating in concern and poured into the arena, lifting the naked body of their chief and carrying her off to the hut set aside for the leader of the tribe.

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  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The late afternoon sun contained little heat as the slanting rays lit up the craggy outcrops of the mountains overlooking the Amorite city of Taanach. A man stood on the crags, sheltered from the chilling north wind and stared across the distances toward the walled city with his left hand shading his eyes. The road leading east looked insignificant from his vantage point, a mere scuff mark that a child may leave in a patch of dirt, but the man kept his eyes fixed on it, searching for any hint of movement. As the sun dropped lower, the shadow of the land leaped upward and the last of the light drew the remaining heat from the rocks. The man shivered and hugged his threadbare rags about his gaunt frame with his left hand, holding them closed with the stump where his right hand had been.

  Night fell, taking with it any chance of a response to his summons, but Jebu stayed on, staring into the darkness and talking as if to an unseen companion. The long months of pain, starvation and loneliness, had forged a new man from the husks of the old. The sound of his own voice comforted him and if his comments sometimes descended into argument, nobody was there to care but him.

  "He will not
come tonight."

  "He will not come at all. You delude yourself he cares."

  "He cares, for he is a friend. I have known him for many years."

  "And yet he betrayed you."

  "I do not know that. Aziru did, without a doubt, but not Ashraz."

  "He is the king's spymaster. You know where his loyalties lie."

  There seemed no reasonable answer to that, so Jebu fell silent, huddling down between the rocks in an effort to keep warm. He contemplated finding his way back to his shallow cave, but the path would be treacherous until the moon rose, so he would be better off where he was.

  "Besides, Ashraz may yet come," he muttered. "I could see a torch from here."

  He hurriedly shut his mouth, afraid of setting off another argument. A little later, he slept and only woke when an owl, drifting silently on the night air, screeched in frustration at finding nothing living on the mountainside. Jebu rubbed his eyes and looked around at the rocks silvered by the waning moon. The distant city was no more than a shadow in a shadow and the road lost in invisibility, so he got to his feet, stamping to bring some feeling to his limbs, before picking his way carefully toward the narrow trail.

  An hour later, with the moon now high in the sky, rendering the shadows shorter and less concealing, Jebu found himself back at the shallow concavity that gave him shelter from any but the worst storms. He waited outside in the darkness of a pile of boulders for many minutes, gently tossing small pebbles near the cave mouth, listening for any sign of life from within. The mountain remained silent and he ducked his head under the low shelf of rock and went inside.