The Amarnan Kings, Book 1: Scarab - Akhenaten

by Overton, Max

  Aram retched and spat, blood-flecked sputum streaking his lips. "Jebu," he whispered. "Help me, old friend."

  "Go to the gods," Jebu answered gently. His hand blurred and his curved sword bit deep into the back of Aram's neck, severing the bone and opening the windpipe. An explosion of bloody froth erupted, spraying Jebu before he could step back. Aram buckled and fell forward, his head flopping forward on tendons and muscles suddenly limp. His feet kicked out in spasm, sending dust and gravel flying. He rolled on his side, his blood-soaked beard matted and sodden. The eyes flicked open and widened as if in surprise then slowly shut as the body shivered and stilled.

  Jebu's men stared at their leader askance. One pointed at Aram's blood which speckled Jebu's face and clothing. "Plague," he croaked. "You'll get it next."

  Jebu wiped his face with one hand, smearing the flecks. "Nonsense. Aram was my friend. He has no reason to require my death. I did him a service." He looked around at his troop. "Which of you would not have a friend do this for him if he could?" he challenged.

  Squatting, Jebu wiped his blade clean on a clump of grass and sheathed his sword. He rolled Aram's body onto its back and sprinkled a handful of earth over the bloody face, slipping a small coin into the bloodied mouth. Getting to his feet he clapped his hands sharply.

  "Get ready. We move south immediately."

  Jebu whirled and crossed to where his spear and bedroll lay, picking them up and settling the first comfortably in his left hand, the other across his back. He walked south along the ridge before dropping down onto a goat track that led toward the coast road, breaking into a trot as his men joined him.

  Behind, on the high bare ground of the ridge, the first flies appeared, drawn out of nothingness by the merest hint of cooling flesh. Above, the vault of pristine blue sky became marred by tiny black specks as one after another, vultures and kites gathered and descended.

  Jebu halted at sunset, leading his men into a tiny derelict way station, erstwhile manned by Kemetu troops in the days of empire now long gone under the Heretic King of Akhet-Aten. One wall remained standing and sufficient rubble remained to form a shelter against the cool breeze that blew after the sun dropped below the horizon. Jebu allowed his men a small fire deep within the shelter, but also insisted on a watch being kept on the road. It was unlikely anybody would be moving in the night, at least before moon rise, but he did not intend to be taken by surprise.

  The evening passed without incident and as the moon rose silver and horned above the eastern hills, Jebu ordered the fire put out. As their eyes became accustomed to the darkness, the road stood out pale and straight in a darker landscape of burgeoning new grass and shrubs. Nothing moved on the ribbon of packed earth and nothing could be heard except the soft sigh of the wind and the call of a solitary cricket among the rubble. Jebu watched and waited, straining his eyes to catch any movement, his ears to detect anything out of the ordinary. A sharp piercing scream came distantly on the breeze, making one of the younger men start and finger his spear nervously.

  "An owl," Jebu murmured. "He eats well tonight."

  "What are we waiting for, Jebu?"

  "A spy. Now keep quiet and watch, Ephras. The rest of you get some sleep."

  Neither sight nor sound alerted Jebu as the moon rose to its zenith, the eastern sky paling with the approach of dawn. Despite the unwashed presence of a dozen men and his friend's blood on hands and clothes, Jebu detected a faint odour of animal dung. He sniffed the wind, moving his head this way and that in the chill air, before tapping Ephras lightly on the arm. As the man turned his head, Jebu signaled for silence and pointed into the darkness to the north.

  "He comes," Jebu hissed. He cupped his hands and uttered the plaintive call of a plover, paused, and repeated the cry. A screech of an owl answered him, followed by a soft clattering of stones as the figure of a man separated from the darkness.

  "What kept you?" Jebu asked sourly. "We've been here all night."

  The man shrugged and yawned, revealing blackened, decaying teeth. "There are a lot of soldiers in Gezer. I had some problems getting away unseen."

  Jebu nodded. "Come and eat. I have meat and wine."

  The man followed him into the shelter of the tumbled down way station and squatted against one wall while Jebu rummaged in a pack for a hunk of dried meat and a flask of sour wine. Accepting the food and drink, the spy took a long pull of the wine before worrying off a chunk of the meat. He looked around at the other men in the shelter, raising an eyebrow quizzically.

  "You can talk in front of them, Ashraz," Jebu said. "What did you find in Gezer?"

  Ashraz swallowed and took another long drink before answering. "A lot of soldiers. They've come up in response to Aziru's attacks. As you already know, the king of Kemet is not interested and is disbanding the army, but the general--Paatenemheb I think his name is--is doing his best with what he has. The legions are under strength but well trained."

  "How many men?"

  "In Gezer? About five hundred soldiers. A lot of traders too, and of course the envoys."

  "What envoys?"

  "You haven't heard? No, I forget, Jebu. You've been too busy pillaging to listen to what is happening around you." Ashraz gnawed off another piece of dried goat meat and chewed noisily. "The King is holding a Heb-Sed festival in his new capital city even though he hasn't reigned thirty years. It seems he is celebrating the overthrow of the gods of Kemet."

  "How do you overthrow a god?" Ephras interrupted.

  Ashraz looked at the soldier but did not reply.

  Jebu nodded. "I'd like to know that too," he said softly.

  "He has closed down all the temples of all the gods, confiscated all their riches and is spending everything on that new god of his, Aten." Ashraz laughed. "May all our enemies have such gods. He is a god of beauty and love and hates violence. That fool king has even emptied the prisons of murderers and thieves who now roam the countryside doing what they will."

  "Getting back to the envoys?"

  "Envoys from all the vassal cities and states appear before the king at a Heb festival and reaffirm their allegiance. That is what we are seeing now--envoys and ambassadors from every land that is still technically Kemetu or pretends friendship. The Hittites are there too, believe it or not."

  "They do not profess to love Kemet."

  "No," Ashraz agreed. "However, a few presents and some meaningless words and this King Akhenaten will go on doing nothing while his empire crumbles around him. Even Aziru has his representatives going to the festival."

  "But King Aziru has a price on his life. The governors of Byblos, Sidon and Smyrna have all accused him of capital crimes. What purpose can possibly be served by sending envoys?"

  "Am I one of the king's councilors that I should know his mind?" Ashraz shrugged and bit into the meat again. "Perhaps he just plays for time with a king that believes the best of everyone."

  "So most of these armed caravans are ambassadors moving south?"

  Ashraz nodded, chewing on the last of the meat. "Some traders too, but yes." He looked up at Jebu. "It would not be wise to attack the ambassadors."

  "I have no intention of that. My sole concern is a little plunder from undefended parties. Anything else I should know about?"

  "There is talk of plague. There have been no deaths in Gezer yet but word has come in of plague in the towns to the north."

  Jebu grimaced. "We have seen it too. My lieutenant Aram died yesterday."

  "Of plague?" Ashraz asked sharply.

  "He would have, but I spared him the trouble."

  "Good of you," Ashraz grunted. The spy got to his feet and brushed the dust off his clothing. "I must go before it gets full day. I have many miles to go before I can make my report."

  Jebu stood too and gripped Ashraz's arm briefly. "I appreciate you taking the time to find me and tell me the news."

  "I pay my debts." Ashraz hesitated. "Would you seek to be in my debt, Jebu?"

  "How?"

 
; "I have news of a rich but small caravan leaving Gezer for the north."

  Jebu grinned and his men stirred with excitement. "Go on."

  "A Syrian trader with seven camels and a dozen men leaves Gezer at dawn. He carries spices and copper."

  "Not much use to us, Ashraz. Copper is useful but heavy and I don't want to get burdened down with it."

  "There is of course, the gold."

  "What gold?"

  "Under the copper. In the panniers beneath a false bottom. My informants tell me there is over five hundred deben in gold links."

  One of the men whistled appreciatively. "Five hundred deben divided among twelve is...is ..." The man shook his head in wonder. "We could get a lot of beer and women with that."

  "We owe you, Ashraz," Jebu murmured. "I will not forget."

  The spy nodded and left the shelter, walking into the early morning shadows. He turned north and set off along a goat track, jogging. Within minutes he was out of sight. Jebu ordered his men to break camp and led them down toward the deserted coast road to wait for the caravan.

  The caravan came just after noon, the camels plodding in single file along the dusty road, heads down as if dispirited by the heat and the monotony, several paces between them. The accompanying men, fifteen in all, robed after the manner of the desert folk, walked beside the beasts in two or threes, some talking quietly but none on watch. A few carried spears but that appeared to be the limit of their weaponry.

  Jebu scanned the road in both directions carefully before stepping out from the cover of a large boulder into the road in front of the lead camel. He wore his sword in his belt, pushed ostentatiously to the front, and planted himself spread-legged in the middle of the road, his fisted hands on his waist.

  "Good day to you," he called. "May I enquire as to your business?"

  The man leading the front camel started, pulling back on the rope with a jerk. The beast responded with a mournful bellow before standing and regarding the man in front of him with a supercilious expression. The man shouted back down the caravan then strode forward to confront the Amorite on the road.

  "My business is my own. What reason do you have to accost me?"

  "Come friend," Jebu said pleasantly. "I merely offer greetings to a fellow traveler."

  The man looked around him nervously, scanning the boulders and ravines alongside the road. Several men ran up behind him, some with spears and the man visibly gained courage. "Why should you name me friend? I do not know you. What is your business? Banditry? Do not think you can rob us."

  Jebu sighed. "Ah, bandits. There is so much evil in the world isn't there? I suppose it is only natural to think the worst of those we meet. I am no bandit, friend. I merely wish to trade with you."

  "Trade? What do you mean?" Two of the caravan men stepped out with leveled spears and advanced on Jebu. The leader of the group gained courage and walked closer, raising his voice. "Come, answer me. What do you mean by trade? What do you have that I would want?"

  "It all depends on what you consider precious. Some desire gems, others gold or ivory." Jebu shrugged. "For myself, I find the breath in my lungs the most desirable thing."

  "You talk in riddles. Answer me quickly or we shall kill you and be on our way." The spearmen raised their weapons.

  "Very well." Jebu bowed slightly. "I offer a trade of your lives for your gold. I mean to take one of them."

  The man laughed; a harsh braying sound that shook his body though it did not lighten the glint in his eyes. "Gold? We have no gold." The other men added their mirth.

  "What of the gold that lies beneath the copper in your panniers?"

  The laughter cut off abruptly. "Where did you hear that?" The man shook his head. "No matter. You will not live to talk about it to others. Spread your arms out wide, if you please. Keep them far from your sword."

  Jebu smiled. "As you wish." He raised his hands, spreading them wide. The air rippled, a high whiffling sound sped past him and the two spearmen dropped in their tracks, transfixed by arrows. The other men leapt back in alarm, hands darting to daggers beneath their robes. Three more fell before the rest backed themselves into a rough circle on the road, spears and knives pointed outward, nervously wavering.

  The Amorite troop swaggered out onto the road, swords drawn and arrows fixed on the caravan men. Jebu walked up to the circle, staying just out of reach of a spear thrust.

  "I offer you a trade. Your lives for your gold." When they hesitated, he added, "Or we could just take it. I am an honest man though, I would prefer to trade." He flashed a disarming smile.

  "How do we know you will honour your word?" the leader said gruffly.

  "You don't. But you must learn to trust your fellow man. Come, put down your weapons."

  After a long hesitation the leader rapped out a command and threw his dagger to the ground. The other men followed suit, scowling blackly. Ephras hurried them to the side of the road and sat them on the ground, their hands on their heads, leaving four men to guard them. Jebu meanwhile, organized the unloading of the camels. The gold was where Ashraz had said, stored in small spaces at the bottom of the copper containing panniers.

  Jebu counted out the gold links, hefting a few to judge the weight. He frowned as he counted out the last of the links. "There is only about three hundred deben here. Where is the rest?"

  "That is all there is," declared the caravan leader sullenly. "Take it and go."

  "I was informed there was over five hundred deben."

  "Then you were misinformed."

  Jebu tossed the gold links to the ground and got up, walking over to the prisoners. "There are ten of you but only three-fifths of the gold we agreed to trade for. That means only six of you can live." He looked over the prisoners and pointed. "Ephras, bring those four out here."

  With a struggle, Ephras and the other Amorites pulled the four men out of the group and forced them to their knees in the dusty road. Jebu walked slowly in front of them, looking calmly into their terrified eyes.

  "I repeat; the gold you have given me only buys the lives of your six friends. Where can I find the gold that buys your lives?" He walked behind them, tapping the blade of his dagger on his palm. He leaned over and stroked the head of one of the man, making soothing noises as the man jerked at his touch. He moved to the next one. "It really is very simple. Tell me where the rest of the gold is and you live. If not ..."

  Jebu stepped quickly up behind one of the kneeling figures and gripped the man's hair, jerking his head back. With a smooth motion he drew the blade of his knife across his throat, slicing through blood vessels, windpipe and tendons.

  The man thrust forward in agony and terror, his hands scrabbling at his open throat, a bubbling scream choking on the gushing blood. He collapsed to the ground in a welter of blood, his eyes starting from his head as he faded into death.

  "So unnecessary," Jebu murmured. "Who will be next, I wonder? All you have to do is tell me where the rest of the gold is and you all live." He moved behind the next man in line who was shifting, moving his knees to keep away from the growing puddle of blood beside him. His hand stroked the head of the flinching man.

  "It is on the last camel," screamed the man, a hot flood of urine staining his robes. "Beneath the clothing. In the name of Ishtar and Bensu, have mercy, I beg you."

  Jebu patted the man gently, his knife to one side where the man stared at it as he would a venomous reptile. "Check the camel," he called.

  One of the soldiers cut the saddle girth sending the load crashing to the ground. He pulled the bundles apart, scattering clothing and rolls of fine linen. He held up a sack that clinked metallically. "It is here."

  "Bring it here." Jebu signaled to Ephras to return the men to the other group of prisoners, then busied himself counting out the gold links in the sack. He looked up smiling. "All here. Five hundred deben of fine gold. You have bought your lives."

  A whistle came from the north. Jebu looked up to see one of his men running back down the roa
d, waving his hands frantically. "A caravan," he gasped out as he got within earshot. "A large one with soldiers."

  "How far?"

  "Two thousand paces maybe."

  The caravan men tensed, one or two of them half rising. They all put their hands down and they started muttering to one another. Jebu strode over and kicked one of them. "Silence," he roared. In a quieter tone he continued, having caught their attention. "We will be leaving you now. Do not think to stir from this spot until we are out of sight. If you feel tempted, remember I have archers and you have seen their skill." He pointed toward the dead men on the road.

  Turning to his men, he snapped out orders, sending his men trotting to the south, and then angling across the plains toward the low hills. As they left the road, Ephras looked back and saw the caravaners running north as fast as they could go.

  "Jebu, they are up. Shall I order the archers to shoot?"

  Jebu grinned. "Leave them. They can do us no harm."

  "What of the soldiers? They could pursue us if they are told which direction we took."

  "And leave their own caravan unprotected? I think not. They will suspect we are but part of a larger body." He clapped the soldier on the shoulder. "Relax, Ephras. Think about how you are going to spend your share of the gold."

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  Chapter Twenty

  Within ten years the royal city of Akhet-Aten rose from the dust to its present glory as one of the newest and cleanest cities in all of Kemet. Not yet complete, the building program set in place by its young king occupied the outer reaches of the city where building supplies; mortar, timber and brick almost leapt from stockpile to finished building within days. The city proper, mud brick and quarried stone, especially the great Avenue of the Aten with its magnificent temples and open breeze-cooled palaces, glowed in the bright morning light. Fresh new paint covered plaster walls, and wonderful bright murals blazed from every surface, proclaiming the brilliant new portrayals of man and beast. Gaily-coloured linen banners festooned the palace facades and everywhere the glint of gold shone from gilded images of the god--the blazing, many-rayed arms of the sun disk.