The Amarnan Kings, Book 1: Scarab - Akhenaten

by Overton, Max

  "How many do you think he'll send?" Aram asked.

  Jebu shrugged. "Who knows? There are only supposed to be six of us so my guess is a dozen, no more. He'll want to make sure of his capture but not empty his camp with the others away. That will give us odds of two to one."

  They watched and waited. At length a man ran from the tent and out of the encampment, heading out along the road to the distant coast.

  Jebu cursed, forcing a grin from Aram at his colourful language. "The son of a whore has sent for the patrol." He got to his feet, brushing off his tunic. "Nothing for us here then. Kill the boys and let's get out of here."

  Aram waved his leader back down. "Something's happening. Look."

  Jebu lowered himself again and stared down into the valley. A bustle of activity in the encampment caught their attention. The man with the glint of gold on his chest stood outside his tent with the boy as a squad of men with spears formed up in front of him. They set out at a trot, the commander and the boy in front, heading through the makeshift gate and toward the hills.

  "I make it eleven, counting the commander," Aram murmured. "We can take them easily." They hurried back down to the streambed, where Jebu altered the positions of his men slightly. The men by the fire lay down in the shade of the boulder as if asleep while one sat up, leaning against the rock, acting the part of a somnolent guard.

  Jebu lay in the long grass halfway up the slope, watching the point where the path crested the ridge through the stems. A slight breeze ruffled the vegetation, carrying the sour odour of wood ash to his nostrils, intermingled with the scents of roasted meat. Grasshoppers chirped and the cicadas buzzed from the stand of scrubby poplars.

  A movement caught his eye. Jebu lifted his head slightly as a man, dressed in a plain brown military kilt appeared on the ridge, crouching down. He moved cautiously along the path, scanning the track ahead of him. The sight of the big boulder and the sleeping men froze him. He looked around cautiously, noting the apparently sleeping guard, before moving back to the ridge. A few moments later a file of soldiers moved cautiously over the top, walking swiftly down toward the boulder. The commander led his squad, the goat herder at his side.

  The Kemetu soldiers quietly surrounded the rock, then, with spears at the ready, the commander called out. The guard raised his head and gave a cry of alarm, jumping to his feet. The 'sleeping' men awoke and stood, their swords still sheathed in their belts. They stared back at the soldiers, knuckling their eyes.

  The commander called out again and his men advanced on their quarry. Jebu stood up and waved a hand. At once, his archers stood and loosed their arrows. The thud of the bronze-tipped missiles hitting flesh carried quite clearly to him, and Jebu jerked his sword from his belt and rushed down the slope, his men screaming beside him.

  The Kemetu turned, even as three of their number fell in a tangle of limbs, raising spears to meet the threat. At once, the men behind them snatched up their swords and threw themselves on the soldiers. The ambush dissolved into a melee of struggling men. Kemetu spears proved no match for the close-quarter fighting of Jebu's men and shortly the soldiers lay dead at their feet.

  Jebu wiped his bronze sword on the grass and sheathed it. "Anyone hurt?"

  Aram indicated one of the men. "Sellu has a stab to his arm, otherwise nothing more than scratches."

  "Right, strip them. Collect any jewelry they have, clothing and the spears. We are going to need everything."

  Simyras frowned. "Why do we need their kilts? They're made of coarse linen. Nobody will buy that."

  Jebu grinned. "Because you, my friend, are going to become a Kemetu."

  Leaving a few of his men behind to remove the heads of the corpses, Jebu led the others along the trail toward the encampment. His plan, which he had considered brilliant when he first conceived it, had suffered in the execution. He had forgotten that Kemetu commonly shaved their heads and bodies. Consequently, the Kemetu soldiers that now trotted down the track seemed singularly hirsute to any but the most casual observer.

  "We're never going to get away with this," Aram muttered. "Nobody is going to mistake them for Kemetu."

  "Maybe not, but they won't be expecting anything. All their attention will be on our prisoners." Six men, lightly bound with nooses around their necks, stumbled along in front of the false soldiers. "I chose them because they are the hairiest."

  "And if they are not fooled?" grumbled Aram.

  "Then we cut and run. They have no archers and they're not going to come out after us. There are ten men left in camp and twenty of us."

  Simyras, as one of the least hairy Amorites, wore the gold badge of rank around his neck, trotting at the head of his troop. Jebu, one of the hairier ones, brought up the rear. As they got closer to the fort they changed their angle of approach, herding the Amorite 'prisoners' ahead of them as a shield. Cries from the encampment told Jebu they had been seen and he risked a direct look at the fort. The gate was wide open and at least half a dozen men crowded the entrance.

  They drew closer and the welcoming cries suddenly ceased. One of the Kemetu soldiers at the gate yelled in alarm, grabbing for his spear. Jebu drew his sword and uttering a scream, ran past his men. With scarcely a pause, the others followed, the prisoners throwing off their ropes and snatching swords from their fellows. A disorganized rabble burst through the gates and started hacking at the soldiers. Jebu swung his sword and missed, tried again, hacking into the arm of a soldier. The man screamed and fell back, going down as another Amorite spitted him. He blocked a stab by a spear and closed with the man, grappling. Jebu kneed the man in the testicles, and then slashed down as he doubled over.

  Two of Jebu's men went down and another three were injured but even the spirited defense by the soldiers was no match for the screaming Amorites. The Kemetu were outnumbered and the din of battle rapidly died away. Soon, the only sound was panting and muffled groans from the wounded. Somewhere, high above them in the heat-rippled air sounded the clear tones of a lark.

  Jebu nodded and examined his wounded men. "All right. We have done what I set out to do. There is still a Kemetu patrol out there and I would guess, from the fact that a runner was sent after them, that they are not far away. Take the heads and we will leave." He watched as his men hacked at the necks of their fallen enemy with blunted blades. Others started to plunder the camp.

  "What of our fallen, Jebu?" Aram asked.

  "We leave them." He held up a hand as Aram opened his mouth. "We can do nothing else. Speak the words over them and sprinkle a handful of soil. Let the priests earn their keep when we return."

  "And the heads? When have we mutilated the dead?"

  "Special orders, Aram. All the way down from Prince Aziru. We are to annihilate any Kemetu forces we can and remove the heads. They are to be sent to governor Ribbadi of Byblos. 'Sowing the seeds of terror and dissension,' he says."

  Jebu and his men gathered up the last of their booty and left the camp at a fast walk, a blood-stained linen bag containing the heads bouncing on the back of one of them. The Amorites disappeared into the hills and silence descended on the camp by the river.

  The drone of flies grew in the summer heat, the hawks and kites circling for a while before stooping in a rapid descent. The returning Kemetu patrol arrived just before dusk, horror and unease appearing on their faces as they saw the carnage that awaited them.

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  Chapter Seven

  The young king Neferkheperure Waenre Amenhotep stood in the bows of the great royal barge 'The Aten Gleams' with his wife Nefertiti as it sped downriver from Waset. For two days they had journeyed with wind and current to the north and now were nearing the point where the cliffs that ran close along the eastern bank of the river pulled back in a great half-moon plain, green with grass and dotted by clumps of palms and acacia. The cliffs themselves continued on straight and level except for one point where a dry stream valley cut through the sandstone. By chance, the sun ro
se through the notch in the cliff tops when viewed from the plain. The local farmers, living on the western bank in a small area of rich black earth trapped between stony rills when the river flooded, worshipped the sun as it rose through the notch, calling their village Akhet-Re or Horizon of Re. The young king, drawn by reports of the phenomenon, had visited the site the previous year. He ordered a city built on the broad crescent plain on the eastern bank, naming it Akhet-Aten or Horizon of the Aten.

  "See beloved," Waenre murmured, his arms around his beautiful wife. "Already our city takes shape."

  The wind, constant from the south for two days, veered and reflected back from the cliffs. The sails on the barge rippled and cracked before filling once more. Resuming its passage, 'The Aten Gleams' heeled over slightly and eased toward the eastern shore.

  Nefertiti scanned the banks of the river as the barge pulled slowly into the makeshift docks at the northern end of the growing city. "It...it does not look like much, my husband." Her voice faltered at the sight of the dust-covered piles of mud bricks. Hordes of workmen clambered over the piles, adding more as lines of peasants staggered in from the workmen's village near the cliff face. Others carted bricks from the stockpiles to add to the rapidly rising walls of a maze of small buildings. The warm breeze carried with it the stench of open middens. "It is not how I imagined it."

  Waenre smiled and kissed her cheek, his hand lightly brushing a naked breast. "A city is not built in a day. But it is important that something is built quickly. The workmen's quarters came first, then minor officials. Mud bricks will do for now. Stone buildings will come later. Already quarries are being worked to the south." He pointed toward the southern cliffs. "Somewhere over there is a good supply of sandstone. Worked granite is on its way. As soon as the outlines of the city are in place, the infrastructure, then we can start on the palaces."

  "It just does not seem the glorious city of the Aten I dreamed about."

  "It will be. I have a hundred architects working on plans and a thousand stone-masons and artists already at work. With the treasury of Amun behind it, the Living Aten will soon have a city worthy of his glorious name." He gestured toward the mud brick jumble. "Do not be put off by the brick. By the time I have finished I will have a city of stone that will make Waset look like a country village."

  The barge drifted in close to the wooden wharf and naked sailors leapt ashore to tie the craft up, securing it firmly against the pull of the current. Waenre and Nefertiti strolled casually back to the awning shading the central part of the barge. There, in the shade of the linen awnings, their three young daughters sat with their nurses, playing with small carved animals and cloth dolls.

  The eldest, Meryetaten, jumped up with a squeal of joy. "Daddy, Mamma, can we go ashore now? Anhai said we could." She waved in the general direction of her nurse as she spoke.

  The nurse Anhai rose to her feet and bowed quickly, her eyes wide. "Oh, majesties, please. I did not mean to imply...I mean, I only said we may be able to go ashore ..."

  Nefertiti smiled. "I am sure you did not mean to presume. However, I think it would be better if you stayed on the barge. It is hot and dusty out there."

  "Come, beloved," Waenre chided. "The girls have been two days on board. I am sure they are eager to see Akhet-Aten. It is their city as well."

  "As you wish, husband." She nodded at the nurse. "You are charged with their safety, Anhai. Take some soldiers with you and make sure you have them back for their noon meal and nap."

  Anhai bowed. "Yes, lady." She turned away, ushering the little princess back to the others. She called to the captain of the king's guard. "Hori, you heard the queen. You must give me men."

  One of the other nurses, Tia, who looked after the princess Ankhesenpaaten, grinned and slipping a hand in front of her mouth, muttered to a third nurse, "Give me one man, at least, she means. And we all know which particular man she has in mind."

  "Shh," said the third. "The princesses are listening."

  Waenre watched as the nurses bustled around, making sure they had everything needed for the trip ashore. A squad of soldiers stood stoically by the side of the gangplank, waiting for the women and girls. One of them, a tall young Nubian, kept his eyes fixed on Anhai. Tia grabbed Ankhesenpaaten and hurried her over to the far side of the barge, holding her over the side as a thin clear stream of urine arced into the water below. Lowering the baby girl to the deck again, she walked her slowly back to the others. Waenre took his wife by the arm and guided her away.

  "The state chariot is waiting, beloved. I thought we could see the whole city together."

  Waenre walked down the broad gangplank, arm in arm with Nefertiti. At the bottom, officials in clean linen pressed forward, the gold of their chains of office glinting in the harsh sunlight. The mayor of the fledgling city bowed low.

  "Welcome, majesties. We are honoured by your presence." The mayor straightened, but kept his head low, rubbing his hands together as he spoke. "As soon as the royal barge was sighted, I ordered a feast to be prepared, great king. It is unworthy, I know, but we can offer cool refreshment ..."

  "Thank you, Neferkhepruhersekheper," Waenre interrupted. "Maybe later. First, I wish to see the progress you have made with my city." He pushed past the officials to where his chariot stood, harnessed to a pair of finely caparisoned white horses. The king's charioteer, Besenmut, stood by the horses' heads, his firm hand restraining the spirited beasts.

  "My lord." Besenmut inclined his head civilly, while flashing his monarch a quick smile. "The new horses, as I promised. You can see they are a fine pair, brothers. The one on the left is Raia, the other Reuser."

  Waenre smiled and favored his charioteer with a touch on the arm. "They are indeed beautiful, Besenmut. Are they swift?" He ran his hand over Raia's flank. The horse snorted, its sides shivering as it rolled its eye back to look at this strange new man.

  "Like the north wind, Waenre. And as strong as the sun for which they are named." Besenmut held onto Raia's bridle, stroking the beast, calming him.

  "Excellent." Waenre turned to help Nefertiti up into the broad carriage of the ceremonial chariot. She stepped up gracefully and gripped the ornately molded rail at the front. The king signaled to a fan-bearer and the man ran over, bowed, and clambered up behind the queen, bracing himself so he could keep the ostrich-feathered fan over her, shielding her from the worst of the sun's heat. Waenre got up too, and picked up the reins.

  "My lord," Besenmut said, stepping away from the horses' heads and coming around the chariot. "It would be best if I drove."

  Waenre stopped smiling. "You do not think I can handle them?"

  Besenmut hesitated. "They are high-spirited, my lord."

  Waenre said nothing, just picking up the reins. As the cords touched the horses' backs, they shied, dragging the chariot forward. Waenre pulled back hard and fought the horses to a standstill.

  Nefertiti put out a hand to grasp her husband's arm and squeezed. "Are you all right, husband?" she murmured.

  "Of course. I can handle them."

  "Please, my lord, let me, I know them." Besenmut wore a frown now and flashed a quick glance at the watching officials. They avoided his eyes. Stepping forward, closer to the king, he put a hand on the chariot rail and looked up. "My lord Waenre. It was my understanding you wanted to see your beautiful new city. Would it not be easier if I was driving?"

  Nefertiti stroked the king's arm, smiling up at him. "That is true, my love. I would like you to point out all the buildings to me."

  Waenre scowled briefly, and then threw down the reins. "Perhaps you are right. Besenmut, you drive. I will stand with my wife."

  The charioteer hid a smile by bowing. "Yes sir." He scrambled up into the chariot and picked up the reins. He wound them round his wrists and braced his feet in the leather loops riveted to the floor. "Ho, Raia, Reuser, on you brave ones." The chariot lurched as the horses leapt forward, before settling down into a steady pace. Besenmut guided the chariot through the swar
ms of workmen toward a building that was no more than foundations set amongst scarred vegetation. The workmen largely ignored the bouncing chariot though quickly got out of the way of the horses.

  Waenre pointed at the foundations as they neared. "One of the palaces, beloved." He gestured off to the left, toward where the great cliffs veered to meet the river. "The city will continue to the north, as far as the cliffs. This will be the port area, where all the wealth of our great empire will arrive."

  "It is very dry and barren now, husband," Nefertiti observed. "But I shall engage a thousand gardeners and turn this place into a paradise."

  Waenre squeezed his wife and kissed her gently. He tapped Besenmut on the shoulder and pointed to the south. "Take us down the Royal Road."

  Besenmut slowed the chariot and eased it into a turn, calling softly to his horses. He guided them through the piles of building materials and headed south toward the main activities.

  "The city will extend all along here. This will be housing for all the artisans and...and everyone that has business here." Waenre frowned. "It is a pity that this great city of Aten must have so many people but I suppose it cannot be helped."

  Nefertiti smiled and slipped an arm around her husband's naked waist. "If we are to dedicate ourselves to beauty, there must be a lot of people to produce all the things we need. They will not intrude on us."

  The chariot, churning up a great cloud of dust, arrived on the outskirts of the growing city. A wide street opened out in front of them, with buildings taking shape on all sides. A huge stone edifice with rough-hewn pillars loomed on the left, its walls unfinished and draped in scaffolding.

  "The Great Temple of Aten," Waenre said. "Naturally it was the first thing to be built." Besenmut slowed the chariot and brought it to a halt outside the temple. "See how it is oriented to face east into the valley and the notch in the cliffs where the Aten rises each day. When it is finished it will be more magnificent even than the one in Waset."