Fall of the House of Ramesses, Book 1: Merenptah

by Max Overton

  "Er, Ti, your brother said we would be camp followers. What does that mean exactly? I...I have heard men say, er..." she blushed.

  Ti-ament nodded. "It can mean that. A camp follower is one who follows the army without pay, but charges a fee for their service. That can be a prostitute, a cook, a laundry maid, someone who just fetches and carries water, almost anything."

  "And us?"

  Ti-ament smiled. "We'll be laundry maids. We find men who need their clothes washed, take them away, scrub them clean, dry them and return them for a fee." She looked at Tausret with a twinkle in her eye. "Unless you want to try something less strenuous. There are always willing men."

  Tausret blushed again and shook her head. "Washing clothes will be good." She sat in silence, watching the eastern shore draw closer, and then shyly asked, "Have you ever...you know?"

  "Been with a man?" Ti-ament nodded. "Once, in my home village. Some girls like it, I'm told, but I don't know what they see in it. How about you? Lords and ladies get up to all sorts of things."

  Tausret shook her head. "There's no shame in it if you're discreet, but I never have. One day perhaps, if I get married."

  "If? Don't you want to get married and have babies?"

  "One day, maybe."

  "You're a strange one, Tau, but Ament says you're a good sort, so I'll see you right." Ti-ament scrambled to her feet. "We're nearly there. We'll have to be quick or we'll be expected to help unload."

  As the barge beached itself, sticking in the mud, Ti-ament leaped overboard into the shallows, clutching her basket. Tausret followed, gasping as the cold water splashed up under her kilt. She dropped her basket but quickly retrieved it and splashed up onto the grassy bank. Shouts followed them, but the younger girl merely made a rude gesture and ran off, the two women quickly losing themselves in the milling crowd gathered on the eastern bank of the river.

  The staging post for the Ptah legion was chaotic as officers strove to get their men into some semblance of order, making sure every man had his weapon and bedroll, every Five had a tent, and every Ten had cooking utensils and a day's rations. Amidst this mass of soldiers, other men bawled and pushed, struggling to get the unloaded stores sorted and loaded onto mules and into wagons. Women were present too, painted prostitutes already eyeing the officers and flaunting their wares, and servants ordered hither and thither with stores and provisions. There were even a number of children running around screaming with excitement and getting in everyone's way, and pi-dogs yelping and snapping.

  Tausret looked at it all in amazement. "How does anything get done?"

  "Oh, it will settle down soon," Ti-ament said. "I've never been to war, but my mother has. She's told me all about it. Now, come on. Let's find our first customers."

  The young girl led the way through the throng to where the officers were camped and approached first one and then another, offering her services as a laundry maid. Many officers were distracted by their duties, but a few were interested, haggling over the price of a kilt or two and a few loincloths and headdresses. Gradually, the two baskets filled with soiled clothing and Ti-ament led them down to the river again, seeking out a place where a waterlogged tree trunk had wedged itself into the mud.

  "This will do." Ti-ament showed Tausret how to soak the cloth and then rub soap into the fabric before beating the sodden garments on the wooden trunk of the tree. "You've got to put effort into it, to knock the dirt out."

  Tausret sniffed at the yellowish block of soap. "It stinks," she complained. "Up at the palace it's scented with flowers or spices."

  "And no doubt costs a lot. This is cheap and will do the trick. Get to work. We've got to wash this lot and dry it before we can try for another load."

  It took them a long time, at least partly because Ti-ament was determined that Tausret should do her share of the work. She showed the princess how to rinse the soap out thoroughly, squeeze the extra water from the fabric and spread them out to dry in the sun on the long grass.

  Tausret straightened, her hands pressed into her back and a grimace on her face, and then sank with a groan onto the grass. "I never want to see another kilt or headdress," she muttered.

  Ti-ament grinned unsympathetically. "You haven't got long," she warned. "We'll need at least one more load today if you want to eat tonight."

  They were paid for their work in a variety of ways. One officer gave them a copper bangle, another a few faience beads, and a third a double handful of barley. Ti-ament secreted them away in a pouch at her belt and they went looking for more customers. There were a number of other women looking for work in the camp, and the riverfront got crowded as others sought to wash clothes. Tausret got into an argument with an older woman over a patch of grass they both wanted to use to dry clothes on, but Ti-ament soothed the old woman's feelings and suggested a compromise.

  The sun was setting by the time they delivered the last load of slightly damp clothes back to their owners and were paid, some more beads, a loaf of bread, a few onions. Ti-ament led the way through the camp to the cooking fires and the kitchens, where she engaged one of the cooks in conversation and exchanged some of their earnings for some cooked meat and a small pot of beer. They sat near one of the fires and ate their frugal meal. Tausret devoured her portion quickly and watched hungrily as the younger girl ate hers.

  "Still hungry? Ti-ament asked. "You ate your food too fast. For some reason I feel fuller if I eat slowly."

  "There's still some bread left."

  Ti-ament nodded. "And our beads, but we'll need something to eat before we start work tomorrow."

  "All that work and we barely have enough to eat?"

  "We'll just have to work harder. We only did two loads today because you were learning, but we should be able to manage four tomorrow. More if we were camped in one place, but the army will be on the move. We have to find the river, then catch up with our customers before we can find new ones."

  "There must be easier ways of making a living," Tausret grumbled.

  Ti-ament cocked her head to one side and looked at her noble companion with a teasing smile. "There are. You could offer yourself to an officer or two. Spread your legs and we'll eat fatty meat every night, washed down with wine. Who knows, you may even enjoy it."

  "That's not what I meant."

  "I know, but you've been spoilt all your life in that palace of yours, Tau. You only have to ask for something and you're given it. This is the world of the common folk out here, where a person has to work, and usually work hard, just to get enough to eat. You barter what you have, your strength, your skill, or your body, for what you need. If you can't do it, go back home. At least you have that option, I don't."

  Tausret sniffed and turned her back, staring into the low fire that offered some heat against the chilly night. She was angry with the young girl, but as she nursed her hurt and the fire burned down to embers, she saw that she was angry because the girl was right. Her knowledge of the world was limited by her upbringing, and she had no real concept of the lives of people who were not of the nobility.

  "I'm sorry," she said grudgingly. "But I have been outside the palace, lived as commoners do. I sailed from Men-nefer to Waset."

  "My brother told me about that," Ti-ament said. "You sat in a boat for fifteen days while someone else sailed it, someone else caught the fish and traded it for food in the villages. You might have been a bit uncomfortable, but you weren't in any real danger or anything. A bit of cooking and spearing fish doesn't count as real work. You saw more of that today than in the whole rest of your life."

  Tausret bowed her head, still with her back to Ti-ament. Her shoulders started to shake as self-pity swept over her. "You're right," she sobbed. "I'll go back to the palace tomorrow."

  "Well, you could, or you could stay and learn how to work."

  "I'd be useless at it. You said it, I'm just a spoiled girl from the palace."

  "You weren't useless today, Tau. A bit slow perhaps, because it was something new, but you'l
l get better if you give it a chance." Ti-ament moved closer and put her arm around the older girl. "How long do you think it would take me to learn all your noble ways? I'd be useless trying to order servants around."

  Tausret stifled a chuckle. "You were good at telling me what to do today."

  Ti-ament nodded. "See, I'm learning already. And so are you, we'll have you trained up as a washerwoman in no time. If you ever decide to stop being a princess, you'll be able to support yourself at a trade."

  This time, Tausret laughed out loud. Although she said nothing more on the subject, she stayed with Ti-ament, washing clothes for soldiers and officers over the next several days as the army made its way slowly up to the northern borders of Kemet. She got quite good at it, and learned to return the clean clothes with a smile and a friendly word, often eliciting a higher payment. Other offers were made too, but Tausret managed to turn these down gracefully, without offending anyone too much.

  From time to time, Ament sought out his sister and Tausret, just to make certain they were unharmed. He brought news of Seti too, telling them how the young prince stayed close to the king, often riding in his chariot. There was no need for Ament's protection in time of war, he told them. Guards swarmed around the king and the prince.

  Then, one day, news spread through the camp that the enemy was close. The soldiers packed up their gear and marched out in their ranks, officers shouting out orders and the rams' horns bellowing. Tausret watched them go, her fists clenched by her sides.

  "I've got to go with them," she said. "That's what I came for, to see the face of war."

  "You can't," Ti-ament said. "You won't be allowed to."

  Tausret grimaced. "I'll find a way."

  Chapter Eighteen

  Year 3 of Baenre Merenptah

  King's Son of Kush Messuwy sat in the shade of an ornamental tree in the Viceroy's palace garden at Napata and read the letter once again. Lieutenant of the Southern Army, and confidante to the Son of Kush, Lord Sethi, sat at ease close by, idly picking his teeth with a fingernail. Behind them, a large Kushite held an ostrich feather fan, wafting it slowly to cool the humid air and keep flies at bay. The Kushite's face and torso were puckered with cicatrices and his dark eyes had a dreamy and vacant look about them. He was new to service and did not understand a word of the Kemetu tongue.

  "Why can't the fornicator speak plainly?" Messuwy complained, his forehead creased with the effort of deciphering the script on the papyrus roll. "'The bull means to mate the calf to the elder cow, pushing the herd toward acceptance of the calf.' What does that even mean? I don't have time for discussions about farming and herds."

  "Bay's life would be worth nothing if he was seen to be a spy in Baenre's court," Sethi said. "And you would suffer too if he was identified as your spy."

  "Yes, but why all this talk of bulls and cows?" Messuwy looked suspiciously at his Lieutenant. "Is this some sort of code?"

  Sethi bit back a sarcastic remark. "Yes, King's Son. To the casual reader the letter speaks of everyday, mundane affairs, but the discerning reader can read deeper."

  "So what does it say?" Messuwy thrust the letter out.

  Lord Sethi took the crumpled letter and smoothed it out, scanning the scrawled script anew, although he already knew what it said. "It tells us that Baenre means to wed Seti to his sister/cousin Tausret, strengthening his claim on the throne. He has not come out yet confirming him as heir, but that is likely to be announced at the wedding. Bay says that the time is not yet ripe, but possibly next year or the year after, if the king's health holds up."

  "Too much to hope the old man drops dead before then?"

  Sethi glanced around the garden quickly. As far as he knew, the garden was deserted except for the three of them, but if he could employ spies, then so could other men. A barbed discussion of the king's health and wishes for his demise could swiftly lead to arrest and worse.

  "A certain man suffers from the infirmities of old age such as a swollen belly, some stiffness in his joints, incontinence, failing eyesight, headaches and toothache, but he is still active enough to go to war."

  "Retenu."

  "Indeed, King's Son. The tribes together with the Sea Peoples. Bay has managed to get a man into the war councils and reports that neither the king nor General Hotepnebi..."

  "Old fool."

  "...anticipate much trouble crushing the rebellion. It is to be a punitive war instead of one of conquest, though if the opportunity arises, the Sea Peoples will be ousted from their cities along the shores of the Great Sea."

  "A little war for a little king. Why should it concern me? What else does Bay say?"

  "You should be concerned, King's Son," Sethi said, again hiding his annoyance at his Lord's lack of perception. "Baenre has taken Seti to war with him. The boy is said to ride in the king's own chariot and waves to the soldiers when they cheer the king."

  "So? He's only a stupid boy."

  "At the moment, King's Son, but he is shown great favour and the soldiers can see it. Many see him as Baenre's successor even without a declaration."

  "I am the rightful heir," Messuwy said. "I am eldest and in a high position within the government. How could that little boy hope to displace me?"

  "He wouldn't have to. All it takes is for the king to declare for him and all you'll ever have is your name on a few local monuments."

  "Unless the king dies before he can."

  Sethi looked round again. "I pray you, King's Son, do not speak such things openly. It is dangerous even for you." He thought for a moment. "Especially for you," he added. "Couch your speech more obscurely. Say instead that you...that you have an old hunting hound who is getting old and infirm, and you are considering retiring him. That way, if we are overheard, the conversation is innocent of treason."

  "You worry too much, but if it will make you happy. How then do I rid myself of my old hound?"

  "You would not want to soil your own hands, King's Son. Certain ones above us do not look kindly on such actions. But perhaps another could perform the service for you?"

  "You?"

  Sethi shrugged. "I am too close to you. The old dog may suspect. It should be a stranger, one who does not follow Kemetu beliefs too strongly."

  "Who then?"

  "One who already does you a service perhaps?" Sethi tapped the papyrus. "A certain Syrian servant who could, after all, be seen to be working for someone else if the...if the dog should bite him."

  "And how would the dog die?"

  "That would have to be decided. A knife thrust perhaps, or poison."

  "Good, then that is settled."

  Sethi sighed. "We are only talking possibilities, King's Son. No more than that. So many things could go wrong. It would be better if the old hound died while on the hunt. These things can happen in dangerous situations."

  Messuwy frowned, dredging through his Lieutenant's words for the hidden meaning. "Ah, you mean in Retenu. Could it happen?"

  "Unlikely. The Retenu tribes are a rabble. Possibly the Sea Peoples, but it would be a fortunate circumstance that brought that about."

  "So there's nothing that can be done?"

  "I didn't say that. The Retenu rebellion may be a lost cause, but the Ribu in the west are another matter. They are fearsome fighters, and they will have to be faced sooner or later. They covet the rich farmlands of Ta Mehu. It may be that you could offer them some incentive, some support..."

  Now Messuwy held up his hand to cut off Sethi. He looked around at the empty garden and shifted closer, lowering his voice. "I will not help Kemet's enemies. How could I govern successfully if I had allowed an old enemy into the heart of the kingdoms?"

  "Not even to remove an old hound?"

  "How would it benefit me to lose a hound and with it the...everything?"

  "What if it could be done? To lose the hound but not the rest?"

  "How?"

  "I don't know. I would have to think about that, King's Son. It is not something to be undertaken lightly
."

  Messuwy leaned back in his chair and yawned. "So this is just so much talk then? Words without meaning? Tell me what else Bay says."

  "He talks a lot about the servants in the palaces of Per-Ramesses and Men-nefer. Who is to be trusted and who supports the cause of the boy."

  "Anything useful?"

  "Not really, though some of it confirms intelligence gathered by other spies. He has a few words about local army officers which may prove more useful. If it came down to an appeal for loyalty from the army, knowing who to target with gold could spell the difference between success and failure."

  "Are we talking about the old dog again?"

  "When an old dog dies you replace him with a younger dog. It pays to have the best advice on such a matter and I have found that army officers are often helpful."

  Messuwy looked toward the Viceroy's Palace and yawned again. "I thirst. Have we finished?"

  "That is all that is useful in Bay's letter, King's Son. He finishes with..." Sethi shook his head. "It is unimportant, just..."

  "Just what?"

  "Bay commends his sister Suterere to your attention."

  "Who? Why?"

  "He has a sister among your palace servants. Quite a comely young woman, I believe. A young Syrian beauty. Perhaps he hopes you will look favourably upon her."

  "Does he hope to curry favour by acting the whoremaster with his own sister? How beautiful is she?"

  Sethi shrugged. "If you like northern women."

  Messuwy laughed. "Well, Bay has done me good service the last year or two. Perhaps I shall reward him by looking upon his sister. Send her to me and I shall decide."

  * * *

  The Viceroy's palace was designed to catch the breezes and its colonnaded porticos and stands of palms casting rustling shadows made the outer rooms, at least, cool havens in the midday heat. Messuwy bathed, servants bringing pots of cool river water to the tiled bathing room, emptying them over the naked man and then patting him dry with fine linen towels. His body servants perfumed him and attended to his makeup, plucking a few stray hairs from his body and highlighting the line of his eyes. He dressed in a clean kilt, selected a favourite gold armband, slipped into comfortable sandals, and then reclined on a couch in his inner chambers. River-cooled wine swirled in the glass cup he held in one hand, while the other hand stroked a small monkey on a leash beside him.