The Amarnan Kings, Book 1: Scarab - Akhenaten

by Overton, Max

  Mahu shook his head, his great tufted eyebrows coming together in concern. "I don't know what comes over young people these days. She is so young too."

  "I know, Mahu, but I know I can trust you to act with finesse. I must talk to her before she talks to anyone else, even your policemen. Can you do this for me?"

  "I can, Tjaty Ay. If she is to be found, I shall find her for you and return her safely, unheard by any."

  The chief of the Medjay organized the search immediately, sending a fast boat south in pursuit of the barge, his instructions odd but clear. His men would obey to the letter rather than risk his wrath. Other boats were sent up and down river with instructions to search the riverbanks and to ask of any river man they came across, the whereabouts of the princess Beketaten.

  The search was cut short by the fall of night but resumed the next morning at first light. By noon the fast boat returned empty-handed from its interception of the barge and the men joined the riverbank searches. At noon, an empty boat was found lodged in the reeds five thousand paces downriver and near it, a blue wool cloak, ripped and bloodstained. Mahu returned to the palace to make his report.

  "The owner identified the boat and the North Palace Controller of Bedding says the cloak was the one given to her the day before."

  Ay nodded. "Could she be alive still?"

  Mahu shrugged. "Possible, but unlikely. Even a skilled boatman would not be on the river in a small craft alone at night. The currents, the shoals, can be treacherous."

  "And the crocodiles."

  "Well, it is not usual for them to attack a boat, but if she stepped ashore near one ..." Mahu grimaced. "The cloak is ripped and covered in blood. I do not think she lives."

  Ay thanked the chief of the Medjay and escorted him from the palace. "Thank you, Mahu, for your dedication and your discretion. I will have an oxen brought round to the Medjay barracks tonight. Perhaps you and your men will enjoy my gesture of thanks." He went back inside and shut the door to his room before breaking into a smile of satisfaction. Whether Beketaten heard something or not, it is immaterial. She will not be telling anyone .

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  Chapter Thirty-Four

  I saw Khu lying still on the sands in the desert twilight and it was all I could do not to run to him. Instead I looked round at the circle of men, resisting the urge to hide myself from them, until I found the face of the man who had spoken to me. He was short, not much above my height, but broad and muscular. He was probably the hairiest man I had ever seen, certainly hairier than any normal Kemetu. Long black hair hung in greasy locks that merged with his unkempt beard. Chest, belly, arms and legs likewise were covered in a mass of black hair, a brown, military style kilt his only apparel, though he also had a belt with short sword and dagger.

  I was reminded of one of the powerful half-men of the lands beyond Nubia that one of the expeditions brought back from the South in the days of my father. The man lived for many years in Waset but had to be caged as he spoke no language and walked on all fours. He was immensely strong though gentle, for he ate no meat, only fruit and leaves. This man before me looked like the half-man but infinitely more dangerous. I had no doubt he was a meat-eater and not at all gentle.

  "My...my friend," I said. "Is he alive?" I struggled to keep my voice calm and even.

  "For the moment." The man grinned, yellowed and decaying teeth showing through his beard.

  "And you will honour your word and let us go?"

  He roared with laughter, his men joining in after a beat. "Have I not said so, little girl? But first, join us at the campfire that we may show our hospitality." He grabbed me by the arm and propelled me toward the clearing where I could see the orange glow of a camp fire. Two of his men dragged the unconscious body of Khu, the rest of them ambling along joking and laughing. I heard some phrases that would have made me blush had I not been so scared.

  Standing me in the light of the fire, the hairy man and the rest of the gang stared at me, examined me from head to foot. I did blush then but fought not to cry. I thought of my brother Smenkhkare and that cheered me. I was a royal princess; I would not let these common men see my tears or my terror.

  "So, your name is Scarab, little girl? A strange name for a girl."

  "My...my brother calls me that."

  "I am called Bennu," the hairy man rasped. "Perhaps you have heard of me?" I shook my head and he scowled. "I have a certain reputation in these parts." He walked around me, then lifted my hand and felt it with his hard, horny one. "Soft hands, Scarab, yet you are a woman--well almost," he laughed. He dropped my hand and grabbed my breast, giving it a painful squeeze. I squeaked with alarm and jumped back a pace and he laughed again.

  "What do you work at that your hands are so soft, Scarab?"

  "I...I live in the palace."

  "A lady's maid or something then?" I nodded and a different look came into his eyes, avarice replacing lust. "Perhaps the lady concerned would pay to get you back. Would you agree, Scarab?"

  I thought about a ransom demand being sent to the court in Akhet-Aten. Ay would pay it immediately but I would be no better off in his hands than I was in Bennu's. I shook my head.

  "There's only one person who would pay a ransom for me. My brother at the court in Waset. I was on my way there to see him. I...I am sure he would pay to get me back...and him." I pointed at Khu.

  "And who is this boy? Someone else we can ransom?"

  "Yes."

  "Who is he? Your lover?" The men standing around laughed.

  I blushed. "He is a friend who was good enough to accompany me on my journey. I would ask that you honour your word and release us."

  "A young girl with small but ripening breasts alone in the desert with a young man she calls her 'friend' but insists is not her lover." Bennu leered at me, lust back in his eyes. "Do you bring all your 'friends' out to the desert, Scarab?"

  "I have told you he is not my lover. I do not have any lovers. I never have had. I am betrothed to ..." I hesitated, thinking desperately. "... To a friend of my brother. Both he and my brother would pay to get me back...unharmed." I felt rather than heard a ripple of interest among the men and wondered whether I had made a mistake. Then I knew I had.

  "A virgin?" Bennu said softly. "It has been a long time since I had a virgin."

  I trembled, though the flickering light and shadows of the campfire masked my fear. "My...my brother is very wealthy. He will pay to get me back but I must be unharmed."

  "Oh, you will not be harmed, little Scarab," Bennu purred. "Who knows, perhaps your future husband will be delighted he is marrying an experienced woman rather than an untried girl."

  "No. You promised to ..."

  "I lied. Now take that kilt off and let me see what I will be enjoying."

  I stepped back hurriedly. "No. Please."

  Bennu moved. Before I could do anything his hand reached out and tugged at the hem of my servant's kilt. The clasp popped free and even in that moment of stress I registered the gleam of reflected fire on the little copper pin as it flew off to land in the sand. My kilt was ripped off me and I stood naked in front of them all. Bennu licked his lips and stared. With an effort, I forced my hands to my sides, refusing to cover myself, knowing it to be a useless act.

  "Do not do this." Trembling harder, I knew only the truth stood between me and...and I didn't want to think of that. I also knew that the truth would be dangerous for me and Ay would kill me, but I knew I had to try.

  "My real name is Beketaten, princess of Akhet-Aten and sister to the king. He would pay a fortune to get us back but his army would hunt you down and kill you if you harm us."

  Bennu gaped, then threw his head back and roared with laughter, slapping his thighs. His men joined in too with guffaws and many ribald comments.

  "I like your wit, Scarab, but choose a tale a trifle more likely. Can you imagine a princess alone in the desert, accompanied only by a peasant lad?" He shook his head, wiping tears f
rom his eyes. "Now join me on my blanket and we shall have some sport."

  "What about the rest of us, Bennu?" A few of the other men joined in.

  "You'll all get your turns, but tonight she's mine. Amuse yourselves with the boy if you like." Bennu reached out and grabbed me, hauling me toward him. I gasped and swung my free hand at his head but he moved and my hand only slapped him lightly. He laughed and crushed me to his hairy chest. His mouth found mine and his stinking breath filled my lungs.

  Gagging, I pulled back, my fingers searching for his eyes. He released me, slapping my hands away, then pinned my arms and slobbered over me again. My stomach heaved and I threw up over him before collapsing to the sand, gasping for air.

  Bennu stood over me staring down at the thin vomit matting his chest hairs, then with a roar of rage he picked me up and hit me in the side of the head, sending me reeling away. He strode after me and hit me again, this time in the stomach. I doubled over and collapsed, my vision turning red as I struggled to draw breath. He leaned down and hissed in my face. "You will beg for mercy before dawn, Scarab, but there will be none."

  Grabbing my thin arms, he dragged me back to his blanket by the rocks and threw me face down onto it. I whimpered and tried to crawl away but he hauled me back, holding my hips and lifting my bottom into the air until I was kneeling in front of him, my face ground into the blanket. I felt my legs parted and I cried out, despairingly.

  "Someone's coming, Bennu." A hoarse shout came from the edge of the rock fort. "I can hear feet--many, and metal jingling."

  "Eh?" I heard muffled movements behind me and my hips were released. I slumped sideways and looked round through tear-blurred eyes.

  The camp was in an uproar, though a silent one. Bennu was snapping out commands, stark naked, though with his covering of fur it was hard to tell. His erect member rapidly wilted. Most of the horses and men melted back into the darkness, dragging the still unconscious form of Khu with them, though four remained out near the fire.

  "They will have seen the fire so someone must remain. I cannot stay; my face is too well known." Bennu spared a quick grin. "If they are few we can take them." He strode back and, picking me up, hauled me back into the shadows. "Keep very quiet, little Scarab, and I'll let you live," he hissed. His dagger eased close, its point pricking my throat.

  I looked out on the hollow between the rocks where four men now sat around the fire, their horses hobbled nearby. I heard the fast, steady beat of running men on the beaten earth of the caravan track and the jingle of metal came louder, a counterpoint that sounded like music. Ay had discovered I was missing and sent men to find me. At that moment I welcomed the thought, even knowing it meant my death. Some things were worse.

  A few minutes later I found out I was wrong. These were not the garrison soldiers of Akhet-Aten but lean, hard men from the north. Regular army I judged. They poured into the rock fort, weapons drawn, a tall man at their head. Taking up positions facing outward the soldiers remained alert, watching the darkness. The tall man strode forward into the flickering light and stood in front of the four gang members, looking down at them.

  "Just four of you? Anyone else nearby?"

  "No." The man who had been left as leader got to his feet, though he kept his hand far from his sword. "And who are you?"

  The tall man ignored the question, flicking his eyes around the clearing. "There are signs of more than four horses."

  The bandit shrugged. "A group of horsemen came through just on sunset. They watered their horses and rode on. South." He grinned. "You can catch them if you hurry."

  The tall man stared but said nothing. He turned to the man standing next to him. "Meny, have the water jars filled. We move out in five minutes." The man hurried off, snapping off orders. The well cover came off and the bucket was lowered and raised several times, the gurgle and splash of water a welcome sound. I stirred, feeling the need to wash the sour taste of vomit from my mouth.

  At once, Bennu's hand covered my mouth and he half-moved over me, crushing me into the sand with his weight. "Do not even think it," he hissed.

  The soldiers finished their watering and the tall man nodded as Meny reported. "Fall the men in." He turned back to the bandits by the fire, his eyes casting over the empty space once more. Something caught his eye and he bent and picked up my bent copper kilt pin. He held it up to the light and examined it before straightening the metal between his fingers, seemingly without effort. He attached it to his own kilt and walked back over to the bandit. "Describe the men who were here at sunset."

  The man shrugged again. "They were just men. Traders I think."

  "Any women?"

  The man frowned and his hand twitched nervously. "Er, no."

  "Meny," the tall officer called, his eyes on the face of the man in front of him. "Fall the men out. Take a detail and search the rocks. Weapons out."

  I knew my life depended on the next few moments. I bit down hard on Bennu's fingers, tasting the hot blood in my mouth. He let out a grunt of pain and his grip slackened slightly. I screamed, muffled against his hand, then wrenched my head to one side and screamed again, piercingly.

  I caught a glimpse of the hollow below as I rolled away, Bennu grabbing for me, his dagger snaking out. I scrambled further, into the shadows. The bandit by the fire had flinched at my scream and his hand moved toward his sword, but the officer did not even see it. His own eyes were fixed on the man's eyes and at that flicker his own sword was out and plunged deep into the bandit's belly. Without waiting for orders, Meny waved the soldiers in to the rocks and shouts erupted, followed by the clash of metal.

  Bennu forgot me and scrambled to his feet, dagger in one hand and sword snatched up in the other. He stepped out silently between the rocks, rage on his face.

  The officer below had turned and fought the other three men by the fire. One lay dead already and another fell, clutching his leg as I watched. He swung away from me, turning his back on Bennu unaware. The bandit leader hefted his sword and gathered himself. I threw myself at him, trying to grip the hair of his legs in my fingers. He shook me off with the ease of a dog shaking water from his coat and I fell against the rock with a gasp.

  It was enough though and the officer turned from the last of his three opponents as Bennu charged down the slope, meeting that first blow with upraised sword. He reeled back, the shock of Bennu's weight and his forward motion almost overwhelming him. Metal clashed and gleamed in the fire's light but after that first attack, the tall officer no longer retreated. Armed with only his short sword he held the bandit at bay, blocking sword thrusts and slashes, his height giving him an advantage of reach over the shorter, stockier man. The officer pressed forward now, driving Bennu back.

  I saw movement and looked around at the shadowed rocks. Soldiers crowded the perimeter of the rock fort, many of them lounging against the boulders and watching the contest below. For a moment I felt anger that they would stand back and allow their officer to fight alone, but then I realized he needed no help.

  Bennu was in trouble and realized it. Robbed of his surprise attack he knew he had met superior skill if not strength. Glancing around he saw he was alone among the enemy and anger filled him. He threw his sword at the officer and as he moved to avoid it, charged in, dagger held low. They collided and the bandit's weight threw them back, toppling to the sand beside the fire. Grappling, Bennu's dagger sought out the officer's life, whose hand strained to hold it back. The other hand, still grasping the sword, beat ineffectually at the bandit's hirsute back while Bennu's left hand slipped between them to his enemy's throat.

  The watching soldiers pressed forward, a low hum of concern issuing from half a hundred throats, and one or two stepped forward, swords half raised. Meny signaled them back and advanced to within a pace of the struggling pair before squatting down.

  "Do you need any help, sir?" he enquired matter-of-factly.

  Bennu looked up, startled and the officer dropped his sword and jabbed up at the bandit's e
yes with his fingers. Bennu howled with pain and reared back, loosening his hold. The officer slammed the hand holding the dagger sideways, into the embers of the fire, eliciting another bellow of pain and anger. He scissored his legs and with a heave, rolled over, tipping his opponent full into the fire. A shower of sparks went up and a billowing cloud of smoke, rank with the stink of burning hair. Snatching up the fallen dagger, the officer slipped it in between Bennu's ribs and thrust hard. His agonized scream cut off abruptly.

  The officer stood up and dusted himself down. "Don't ever interfere in my fights again, Meny," he said. Then he grinned and clapped the man on the shoulder. "But thanks." He scanned the hollow and the cheering soldiers. "Casualties?"

  "None sir. A dozen dead, bandits by the look of them, and one young lad alive. The doctor's seeing to him." Meny signaled to the soldiers to remove the stinking body of the bandit from the flames. All of the bodies were carried out of sight behind the rocks.

  Khu is still alive , I thought. I stepped down from the shelter of the rock, forgetting I was naked and felt many eyes seek me out.

  The officer stared at me then smiled. "I believe I have you to thank for that warning." He turned to the officer Meny. "Find a spare kilt and cloak."

  Within minutes I was seated on a blanket on the far side of the fire, an oversized kilt fastened about my waist and a warm cloak around my shoulders. The officer came over from where he was talking with Meny and another man and squatted beside me, curiosity in his eyes. He was tall and slim, though broad across the shoulders. To my young eyes he appeared old though I later found he was only in early middle age. His hair was dark and his skin a lovely coppery colour. Despite my ordeal I felt a quickening of interest for this man.

  "May I know the name of my benefactor?" I said in a voice that still trembled.