Warrior of the Nile (The Gods of Egypt)

by Scott, Veronica

  He flinched at her touch and moved away. Tiya curled her fingers back into her palm, stung by yet another rejection. Roughly, Khenet rubbed his hand over his arm. “I don’t know. I’ll never know. The priests completed the tattoo for each man as the gods imparted knowledge. My people worshipped Tla’amu.” He raised an eyebrow.

  She shook her head. “I’ve only heard the name in legends, old tales. So, your tattoo represents a tribute to him?”

  Khenet fingered the beads on his amulet again, the one revealing gesture she’d noticed from him. Her questions unsettled him, no doubt. Perhaps sensing her gaze, his fidgety hands stilled at once and dropped from the beads. For whatever reason, Khenet obviously felt he should give no hints of his emotions. Not even to her. He reached out to knock over the little structure of pins he’d been building, the gesture sharp, almost brutal, and his voice went flat as he said, “Our tattoos were symbols of our beliefs. There were certain specific signs or emblems, depending on the warrior’s inner soul, his ka. His gifts. His purpose in this world, which would gain him entry into the Afterlife if done well.”

  So even if he wasn’t born an Egyptian, his belief in the ka’s significance is perhaps even deeper than ours. She sighed. “You could have it finished however you pleased now,” Tiya pointed out. She sketched a rapid design, taking off from the general shape, her mind whirling with sudden ideas. The artist in her was challenged.

  He crossed his arms. “The tattoo would be meaningless.”

  “Merely a suggestion.” Tiya set the papyrus down and covered it, making an effort to hide her hurt and annoyance.

  With an obvious effort, he smiled. “I try not to talk about my childhood.”

  Tiya sat, hoping for more detail but he didn’t add anything else. And that’s clearly as close to an apology as he’s prepared to go. She sat back and folded her own arms, mirroring his standoffish posture. “You keep a great deal locked inside yourself, don’t you?”

  “No good can come of talking or thinking about my past. I’m the last of my people.” Khenet stared across the Nile.

  After a few moments watching his faraway gaze, Tiya bestirred her courage and shyly touched his arm. “You’re a long way away in your thoughts.”

  “Oh, there were all kind of legends about the Last Man of Avsarum. I never expected the title to fall to me.”

  “Avsarum?” She stumbled over the word and tilted her head as she tried the name out.

  “My people.” Khenet set his back to the view of the river, leaning against the rail. “I wish some of those legends were true.”

  “What kind of legends?” Tiya sat up straighter.

  Khenet only shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Fanciful tales. He was supposed to have some godlike powers, marry a princess, all the usual scribes’ inventions. Nothing I want to pour into your ears. I’m sure you’d be bored.” He studied the game board, blinking in surprise to find it already set up, which she’d done while he’d been daydreaming. “Time for the next game, I see. Better choose your opening gambit carefully or I’ll win.”

  “Again.” Tiya jumped a game piece over one of his. “You’re quite the strategist.”

  “And you are an excellent artist.” He swept in and removed five of her pegs with a series of moves. “But no strategist.”

  “Then we are each in our proper place,” she said sadly.

  Chapter Six

  The River Horse was docked at last in Dendaret harbor. Gritting his teeth, Khenet knocked on the door to Tiya’s cabin. “Are you ready?”

  “You may enter,” she said, her voice muffled. “I’m dressed and my things are packed.”

  He unlocked the door for the last time, distaste for keeping her a prisoner rising in the back of his throat as it did each time he touched the bolt. Why did she force me to this? Why won’t she confide in me? I’d give anything to trust her again. He stepped into the tiny cabin, closing the door behind him. “In a moment we can go ashore and make our way to the governor’s house. It’ll be too late to travel farther today so we’ll leave at dawn tomorrow. But first we must come to an understanding, you and I.”

  Laughing bitterly, Tiya sat down on the edge of the bunk. “I thought we had an understanding. I thought I was your prisoner.”

  “I don’t know why you fled in Zauimu, any more than I know why you came back.” He waited, holding his breath in hope but as always she dropped her gaze and said nothing. Disappointment a dull pain in his gut, he got to the point. “I don’t wish to shame you in Dendaret, before the nomarch of the Charging Lion Nome and his wife, their court, by putting you in a cell.” He touched the golden medallion, symbol of his authority from Pharaoh. “We both know I could order that done.”

  “Not going to guard me yourself?” she said scornfully. “I told you I won’t have any need to go off on my own again.”

  “I have preparations to see to, for our journey tomorrow. I’m going to tell the governor that there have been threats against you, because you go to marry a man who worships the god of our enemies. As a result you must be closely guarded and never left alone.”

  “A prisoner in effect, if not in name.” She closed her eyes wearily for a second before standing and gathering her one sack of belongings. “You can trust me, Khenet, whether you choose to believe it or not. We’re both committed to this task Nephthys has assigned.” She smiled at him, heartbreakingly beautiful in her sadness. “Right to the end.” Graceful as a long—legged ibis, she stepped past him into the corridor.

  As they emerged on deck, Tiya turned her face to the sun and smiled wistfully. “I feared this journey was going to be awful, but now I wish we had many days left to sail.”

  Khenet didn’t know what to say, given the current tension and distrust between them. Fortunately, Captain Taneb interrupted, tapping him on the arm, bowing to Tiya. “A litter and escort have been sent for you from Nomarch Ahotepre’s palace, my lady.” He jerked his head in the direction of the quay. “They await your pleasure.”

  “Thank you for bringing me so swiftly on the first leg of the journey,” she responded. “I was telling Captain Khenet how much I wished the voyage could go on.”

  The ship’s cat rubbed against her legs and Tiya bent to scratch behind his battered ears one final time.

  “It was our honor, my lady.” With a dramatic flourish, Taneb clapped a hand over his heart. “We’re at your service any time.”

  Khenet dispensed gold coins from the pouch at his belt, dropping them into the captain’s outstretched hand. “Tangible appreciation from Pharaoh.”

  “I’ll distribute Pharaoh’s bounty among the crew.” He bowed again, and Khenet escorted Tiya past him, holding her hand, guiding her down the steep gangplank. An officer waiting on the wharf saluted crisply, his attention all for Tiya in her fine linen gown.

  Khenet was sure he growled at the man. Stop leering at her, young pup, before I redirect your eyes with my fist.

  The soldier flinched as if he’d heard Khenet’s thought. “I’m Lieutenant Semabeh, sent by Nomarch Ahotepre to escort the lady to his palace.” Reverting to his study of Tiya’s charms, the lieutenant stood even taller. “If you’ll take your seat in the litter, my lady, we can be off.”

  Outmaneuvering the younger man, Khenet handed Tiya into the conveyance, which was a light chair constructed of polished black ebony, supported by long poles painted red, white and gold. Small lotus flowers had been carved at each corner of the chair itself, and brilliant blue ostrich plumes quivered in hidden vases. The cushions were gold and red. The whole thing created a lavish frame for Tiya’s fragile beauty.

  Four immense servants lifted the litter at a command from Lt. Semabeh, ready to parade into the city. A crowd of bystanders grew, attracted by the litter and the presence of guards from the palace. Khenet eyed the crowd, hand on the hilt of his sword. Most were gawkin
g at the sumptuous litter; a few were ogling Tiya. He took note of several hard-faced men in the back of the throng, who slipped away as soon as they realized he’d seen them. Hmm, if we were staying in Dendaret, I’d be keeping an eye out for those two ruffians.

  The soldiers fell into formation with the litter, and the small procession traveled away from the riverfront, making its path through bustling city streets. Dendaret was a medium-sized city, capital of a small nome. The streets bustled; the shops were well stocked and varied. The citizens appeared prosperous and content for the most part. As their procession moved away from the river, the buildings grew ever more impressive. Clearly, Dendaret was a growing city, well maintained, with opportunities for any who chose to make an effort.

  When they reached the sprawling palace complex, Lt. Semabeh escorted them to the nprivate audience chamber of Ahotepre, the Charging Lion province’s nomarch. Khenet took up a position near the door, reluctant to move too far into the room, which was packed with gilt tables, statuary and other household goods. Seems Ahotepre likes to have his wealth on display. He reached out to steady a small alabaster vase that teetered precariously as Tiya brushed against the table. I couldn’t live like this. Too much clutter, even if it is gold plated and bejeweled. Pharaoh, who is a thousand times wealthier, lives much more simply in his palace than these provincials. Hard on the heels of his dismissive thought, the Nomarch of this province and his wife strolled into the chamber from the other side.

  “Greetings, Lady Tiya-ami-kitara. You made good time down the Nile,” said Ahotepre as he accompanied his wife across the room to meet her.

  “Captain Taneb declared often that the winds favored us,” Tiya responded. “And his men were strong rowers when the breezes slackened.”

  “But you must be tired.” Ahotepre’s wife linked her arm with Tiya’s. “Come, let me show you to our guest chambers. I am sure you’ll want a bath and a complete change of clothing before dinner. I took the liberty of buying a few new dresses for your arrival, in case you didn’t choose to unpack your trunks for such a quick visit. We’ve kept the guest list for tonight limited to our closest courtiers, although everyone wants to hear the latest news and gossip from Thebes.” Lowering her voice conspiratorially, she leaned her head close to Tiya’s. “One never speaks ill of Pharaoh, of course, but how like a man to have sent you on this trip with no servants and inadequate supplies. How could the Queen allow such thoughtlessness?”

  She’s like every featherbrained court lady I ever met. Khenet shifted his stance, attempting to keep the frown off his face. Doesn’t she see how tired Tiya is?

  “It’s not my place to question Pharaoh’s command,” Tiya answered, falling into the role of the dutiful courtier.

  “Well, no, of course not, but you will agree it is strange. Come, let my serving women pamper you a bit before dinner.” The nomarch’s wife tugged Tiya toward the maze of corridors leading deeper inside the mansion.

  Tiya checked with Khenet for some indication how he wanted to proceed, raising her eyebrows in silent question. He nodded for her to go ahead. She’d be safe enough in this palace, surrounded by the Ahotepre’s guards. He intended to explain the necessity for close protection of Lady Tiya to the ruler of this nome in a moment, privately, so he could be blunt if necessary.

  Tiya massaged her temples as she left the room with the nomarch’s wife, who hadn’t stopped talking for a moment. Khenet watched her go, concerned in spite of himself. Probably getting another headache, in which case she won’t be up to traveling in the morning.

  Ahoptepre addressed himself to the men once more. “Lt. Semabeh, take the captain to the barracks, to the commander of the guards.” He glanced at Khenet. “Don’t hesitate to tell him if you have need of anything, Captain. The orders from Pharaoh were quite specific, and you may be assured a chariot will be at your disposal by first light.”

  As Pharaoh’s adopted brother, he outranked Ahotepre, nomarch or not, but Khenet preferred not to play social games. I’ll learn more in the barracks than at the feast table with the nobility. Although, I still regret the lack of Tiya’s company. I enjoyed her conversation, watching her draw her pictures, the smell of her perfume. Everything about the Lady Tiya pleased me as no other woman ever did, or could, right up to the moment she lied to me. Acid burned around his heart and he had to swallow hard. Taking a deep breath to clear his head, he got back to the business at hand. “There have been threats to the lady’s safety. I noticed some suspicious men following us at the riverfront this morning. She must be guarded at all times, never left alone without soldiers at the doors while we’re here in Dendaret. She is not to be allowed to wander anywhere unescorted, even if she makes such a request.”

  The nomarch was startled. “I’m sorry to hear she may be in some jeopardy. My wife and I will keep her well protected.”

  Khenet decided that was enough said. “I’ll need to send Pharoah an update on our progress in the morning. I’ll have to requisition the use of a carrier pigeon.”

  “Of course, Captain. I’m sure Commander Waset can accommodate you.” Waving one hand dismissively, the nomarch seemed impatient to go after his wife and Tiya.

  Saluting, Khenet left the chamber with his appointed escort.

  The walk to the barracks was short, which Khenet appreciated as young Lt. Semabeh peppered him with eager questions regarding the recent battles to repel the Hyksos invaders. Khenet could barely answer one before the lieutenant had asked another.

  Commander Waset of the Dendaret guards was an older man, wearing a plain black wig, slightly askew. He returned Khenet’s salute and dismissed the young lieutenant. As the door closed behind a clearly disappointed Semabeh, the commander sank into his large, somewhat shabby wicker chair, rubbing his belly. “Khenet son of Khenamir, eh? I’ve heard of you. Went on an expedition to the jungles of Kush with the young princes, didn’t you? Played a major role at the battle for Thebes?”

  “My men and I were in the right place at the right time, yes.” Eyeing the room, Khenet wondered if everyone in Charging Lion nome lived in clutter and mess. Maps and other important scrolls were scattered everywhere, clothing, food and weapons mixed in.

  Waset waved a burly hand. “Oh, take a chair, sit. Queer business, this, sending a warrior of your caliber to escort some slip of a noblewoman over to our neighbor in the Viper Nome.” The commander poured them both wine and slid a chipped mug precariously across the table. “To Pharaoh!”

  Khenet drank. Wiping his lips, the commander set his mug aside with a thunk, sloshing the liquid onto his desk. He swiped at the puddle ineffectually. “So, my orders are to have a chariot and two fast horses waiting for you at dawn, with supplies enough for the journey to Viper Nome. Are you sure you don’t want me to send a squad of men with you? Young Lt. Semabeh, for one, salivates at the idea of doing a sortie into the next nome, getting some experience with a veteran like you—a member of Pharaoh’s own guard. He could learn much.”

  “Pharaoh’s decree was for Lady Tiya-ami-kitara and me to travel alone. What kind of terrain will we be traversing?” Khenet moved a stack of scrolls to make room for his mug on the table.

  The commander grunted, topped off his wine, and heaved himself to his feet. After crossing the room, he opened a cabinet and searched one-handed for a few moments before pulling out a scroll. He came back to drop it on the table. Khenet loosened the thong holding the papyrus tight and spread it carefully out on the damp surface, anchoring the corners with the wineskin, his mug and two small statues of the local deity.

  “Your first two days you’ll be on the main route.” Commander Waset traced the route with one stubby, callused finger. “You’ll be able to stop at posting houses for the night, change horses if need be. But the third day, you’ll have to break off and go west.” He sipped his wine, smacked his lips, and frowned. “The track will be rough.”

  “Not much travel to
and from the Viper Nome?” Khenet studied the map, assessing the features of the territory beyond the fork in the trade route.

  “No. They used to export lumber and other goods through our port. Did a big trade. But, after Smenkhotep came to the throne, he set about choking off his territory. Closed the borders, doesn’t let anyone in or out. Hard to get much information on what’s going on there but, I’ve heard, they’re rife with famine and disease. Some of my men have relatives in Viper Nome. Set’s claws, I even have cousins living there. We get occasional news.” Waset shook his head slowly. “Never good.”

  Curious, wondering if civil unrest might help him achieve his own aims, Khenet asked, “Are the people in the province likely to rebel against Smenkhotep?”

  Clearing his throat, the commander took a fortifying swig of wine before leaning closer and lowering his voice. “My cousin Narmer is a captain in the guards. He did tell me there was much unrest in the populace and the regular military ranks. They’re loyal Egyptians, mind you.” He eyed Khenet as if deciding whether to say more.

  Khenet tried to be encouraging. “I’m sure they are.”

  Waset left his chair to search for another scroll, which he brought back from the cupboard and plunked on the table. “Well, I know there’s a lot of hope in Viper Nome that the new Pharaoh might take notice of Smenkhotep’s activities. There was a priest of Horus who tried to leave the nome. I heard he might have had a petition to present to Pharaoh about the situation.”

  Unrolling the new scroll, which had more detail about the roads, Khenet asked, “What happened?”

  “Smenkhotep had him and his relatives executed.” Waset frowned. “Keeps a very tight rein on his people, that nomarch does. Has a large unit of well—fed, well-paid mercenaries for just that purpose. My cousin Narmer and his men would have refused an order like that, against a priest.” Making the sign of the evil eye and then touching the amulet at his neck, Waset shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Smenkhotep provides rations to the nome’s military of course, he’s not stupid. But nothing like what he allocates to his expensive mercenaries. And Narmer must share his with his family.”