by Max Overton
Achish regarded the two girls coolly, and then smiled. "Well, I will give your father a month to ransom you. If he has not by then, I will enjoy polluting you before handing you over to my men to pleasure themselves for as long as you remain alive."
"Then send your message."
Achish shrugged. "It will have to wait until we get back to Ashkelon. I have no scribes here worthy of the name."
"Bring me brush and papyrus and I will write to my father for you."
"You can write? They teach girls to write in Kemet?"
"Of course. Are not the daughters of Kaftor so instructed?"
"No point," Achish said with a laugh. "It does not help them cook or clean or bear sons. And I doubt you'd find any women wanting to learn anyway."
"Perhaps when Kemet conquers your people, we can civilise you, teaching your daughters to value themselves."
"Write your letter, daughter of Baenre, but you now have only twenty days for your father to pay gold. If he does not, I shall take great pleasure in humbling your pride."
Chapter Twenty-Five
Year 3 of Baenre Merenptah
The Kemetu army marched back to their camp in high spirits. Many of their fellows had died crushing the Retenu rebellion and chasing off their Sea Peoples allies, but the thought uppermost in their minds was that they were alive. It was a pity if a friend or fellow soldier had gone down into death, but that was their common fate and at least they would be spared further hardships. Now, for the living, there was rest, hot food and women to look forward to.
Merenptah had other preoccupations. The business of maintaining Ma'at did not stop just because he was off defeating Kemet's enemies. He had able men to manage the affairs of state, Tjaties in the North and South, governors in every sepat, and a host of judges, overseers and scribes to watch over and control every aspect of the people's lives. The king was still the link between man and god however, and although the priests liked to think of themselves as autonomous, Merenptah was High Priest of every god and demanded an accounting at regular intervals.
As soon as the army arrived back in camp, Merenptah was besieged by messengers, each bearing a report or a petition from some official or other, both sacred and secular. He took time to bathe and change into fresh clothes, partake of a light meal, and then he sent for the first of them. A scribe was on hand to read the missive, explain any points that needed elaboration, and then take down the king's judgment. Where necessary, orders were written out by other scribes and affixed with the royal seal. While his men relaxed, the king stayed busy.
Seti went looking for the men he knew within the legions, ones from whom he had learned the skills of war, his expertise with the compound bow, his usefulness with axe and sword, and competence with the spear. He had learned too, the coarse language of the ranks, and enjoyed their company more than that of officers, even if they did defer to him at all times. Now he found that a few of his sometime companions had fallen, and shared a pot of beer with the survivors, talking over the battle and its aftermath.
"We showed them fornicating rebels, didn't we?"
"You certainly did, Menes. When that sword cut through yer kilt, everyone saw everythink."
"And your member scared them more than your sword."
"Yus, they couldn't take their eyes off it."
"What're you saying?"
"Everyone knows Kanaanites are boy-buggerers, savin' your presence, m'lord, an' they was thinkin' they was abaht to be attacked by you. That put the fear o' the gods in 'em."
"Youse take that back, Kha-it, youse son of a whore. I ain't no buggerer."
There was a bit of shoving and name calling, but the companions of Menes and Kha-it quietened things down by pressing fresh jugs of barley beer into their hands.
"Wot abaht you, m'lord? We seen youse in the king's chariot but lost sight o' youse in th' battle."
Seti's face fell. "You didn't see me?" Then he realised that if no one had seen him, no one could contradict him. "It was magnificent. My father's chariot charged straight into the enemy with my father shooting arrows to the right and me shooting them to the left. Hundreds fell beneath our bows, and more were crushed beneath our wheels. My father and I smashed the rebels and..."
"Sounds like we didn't do nuthin'," muttered one man.
"Yus, we does the work, 'e gets th' glory."
"Ah, shut it, Menes." Louder, he said, "Did youse get many 'ands, m'lord, when they was countin' 'em?"
Seti hesitated. "Er, well, that was a job for ordinary soldiers wasn't it? I just told them what to do."
"And ain't we grateful for a boy tellin' us our business," Kha-it muttered. "We wouldn't know wot ta do if it weren't for likes o' 'im."
"Shut it, I tells yer. Wot yer think, m'lord. Will th' king order a great vict'ry parade wiv lotsa food an'...an' cell'brashuns when we gets back ta Men-nefer?"
"I'm sure he will," Seti declared. "I wouldn't be surprised if he distributed gold to everyone. It was a great victory, after all."
The men cheered, though many dismissed the idea of gold as mere exaggeration. The noise attracted other men, and the tale started spreading that the king intended to be generous, issuing gold to every soldier. Even those who were initially sceptical began to believe the story.
Seti grinned, basking in the adulation of the common man, not being sufficiently experienced in handling men to know that a broken promise was a lot more damaging than plain neglect. The soldiers could live with the notion of no reward save their daily bread and beer, but having been promised gold, they would be discontented when it did not arrive. Seti smiled at everyone, and accepted their praise, until he saw the troubled face of someone he knew.
"Ament, you survived! Wasn't it a great battle? A great victory?"
"Indeed my lord. If only it had been a victory over a rich enemy than over poor rebels." He drew Seti aside and lowered his voice. "Does the king know you promise his gold to every soldier?"
Seti's smile faded. "I didn't actually promise gold. I just said...they won't hold me to it, will they? I'm just a boy, they know that I don't have any gold."
"I'll talk to them later," Ament said. He stared off into the bustling camp and frowned.
"What's the matter, Ament? Aren't you happy we won?"
"Of course I am, my lord. It's just that...well, my sister has gone missing and...er, so has yours."
Seti stared. "So has my what?"
Ament visibly drew himself together, squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath. "Your sister Tausret has gone missing, in company with my sister. It seems they took a donkey and wandered off into the desert."
"You're not making sense, Ament. Why would she wander off, and who told you anyway? Has a messenger come in from Men-nefer? Why would they come to you and not to my father?"
"She wasn't in Men-nefer..."
"Of course she was."
"No, my lord. She wanted to come with the army to see the battle, so I arranged that she could come with my sister..."
"I didn't know you had a sister."
"Please my lord, I'm trying to tell you what has happened. They both came with the army and while we were away from the camp, she took it into her head to follow...and now she's lost...both of them are lost."
Seti stared dumbfounded. "Tausret is lost in the desert, and your sister is responsible?"
"No my lord, I am. I made it possible for her to come."
Seti shook his head slowly. "I think you had better explain all this to my father the king, though only the gods know what he'll say."
The young prince led the way to the king's tent and by the time they got there, Ament was shaking with fear. Not only had he gone behind the king's back in allowing his daughter to accompany the army, but he had lost her as well. He did not know the penalty for losing a royal princess, but he guessed it would be severe.
There was still a line of messengers and petitioners outside the tent, waiting to be admitted by the Overseer of the King's Business, and guards on
the tent flaps. Seti announced himself and sauntered past without waiting to be admitted, though the guards stopped Ament. Inside, Seti interrupted a petitioner.
"Father, you need to hear this. It concerns Tausret."
A flicker of annoyance crossed the king's face. "Wait," he instructed the petitioner. "I am busy, Seti. Can't it wait?"
"Ament says Tausret and his sister, did you know he had a sister? Anyway, they've gone missing, though I didn't even know she was in the camp."
Merenptah turned to the petitioner. "Leave us. I will attend to you at a later date." The man bowed and left the tent. "Ament told you this? Where is he?"
"Right here, father." Seti saw that he was alone in the tent. He uttered an oath and strode to the tent flap. "Get in here, Ament. Guards, let him in."
The guards' officer poked his head into the tent and looked inquiringly at the king. When Merenptah nodded, he stepped aside and ushered Ament in. The Leader of Fifty immediately fell to his knees and then prostrated himself in the dirt.
"Get up, Ament, and give me your report," Merenptah said. "What is this about my daughter Tausret?"
Ament remained kneeling. His body shook with fear still but he controlled his voice, falling back on the simple procedures of reporting to a superior officer. He pretended it was not the king, and that he was not in fear of his life.
"Sir...Son of Re, I was approached by Lady Tausret in Men-nefer and ordered to find a way for her to follow the army so she could observe the legions in action. I knew that you would not agree to let her go, Son of Re, but I also knew that if I did not help her she would find another way. I thought that if I was in control I could ensure her safety.
"Thus, I called on my sister Ti-ament for assistance. She has followed the legions before, Son of Re, as a washerwoman, and I thought Lady Tausret could remain suitably anonymous under her tutelage..."
"You sent Tausret to be a washerwoman?" Seti broke in incredulously. "I'd like to have seen her at work."
"Control your mirth, Seti," Merenptah growled. "Go on, Ament. Something tells me this is about to get worse."
"Yes sir...Son of Re. I am uncertain what happened next. When the legions marched, I was with them, but it seems that Lady Tausret and my sister hired a donkey, bought bread and water, and set off after us."
"And no one thought to stop them? I will have blood for this if harm has befallen her."
"I have a witness who says two women and a donkey left the camp three days ago in a westerly direction..."
"Not following the legions then?"
"It may be that they did not want to draw attention to themselves, Son of Re."
"What else?"
"That is all, Son of Re. They are not in the camp now, so...so they have either become lost in the desert, or have been..." Ament could not continue, as sobs of grief shook his shoulders.
Merenptah pressed his fingers to his eyes and took a deep breath. "Ament, you will accompany the Officer of the Guard and place yourself under arrest. I will decide on your fate when we return to Men-nefer."
"Son of Re, may I be permitted to join in the search for Lady Tausret? I could not forgive myself if anything has happened to her, and I would willingly die to return her to safety."
"He could come with me, father," Seti said.
Merenptah thought for a few moments and then nodded. "Very well, my son. You ask for responsibility, so I will give it to you. Organise the search for your sister. Draw on whatever resources we have for the task, and use Ament for anything. I want her found...and Seti...let nothing happen to Leader of Fifty Ament. If my daughter does not return, I will make him wish he had never met her."
Ament scrambled to his feet and bowed low. "I already wish that," he muttered. He and Seti exited the king's tent and called for a scribe and the officers of the chariot squadrons. "Men are too slow," he told Seti. "Chariots can cover the ground more swiftly."
Seti gave the orders and men ran to get the horses hitched to the chariots.
"They should take water and food with them," Ament said. "The women will be tired and thirsty by now. If they are still alive," he added.
"We're going too. Have my father's chariot readied."
Shortly, chariots fanned out to the west of the camp, spreading to the north and paralleling the course the legions had followed. The many small dust clouds merged into a single diffuse one and drifted away to the southeast. Seti and Ament went north, close to the path of the legions, in the belief that if they really had gone out to see the battle, they would have stayed as close as possible.
"They could be dead, you know," Seti murmured. "Cut down by either army in the heat of battle."
Ament nodded, and for a time did not allow himself to speak. "Or lost in the desert," he whispered. "You always need more water than you think."
"If they're out here, we'll find them."
But by the time the sun was well on its way toward the western horizon, they had turned back, reaching the camp again at sunset without having found a trace of the missing women. Other chariots had returned before them, and others after dark, but none had anything to report. Seti gave orders that the chariots be ready again at first light, and went to report to the king.
"Nothing at all?" Merenptah asked. "You found no sign at all?"
"We only had half a day to search, father. Say, five thousand paces out, travelling slowly and covering the ground thoroughly. I'll have the search widened tomorrow, and have the men take provisions to stay out overnight. We'll find her."
The chariots did not leave the next morning however, for as they were gathering and offering up prayers to the gods, a Sea Peoples chariot appeared, flying a herald's banner.
Men rushed out to surround and lead the enemy herald into the camp and into the presence of the king. Legion commanders, scribes and priests hurried into the royal sent, quickly summoned by the king. The herald, bearing the banner that should offer him safe passage, advanced to the throne and bowed low.
"Great King, Lord of the Two Lands Baenre Merenptah, I bring greetings from my master Seren Achish of the Kaftor, and a letter." The herald's Kemetu was pure but accented.
Merenptah signalled to his chief scribe to take the sealed letter and open it. While that was happening, he regarded the herald with a cold eye. "Who is this Seren Achish of the Kaftor that he should write to me?"
One of the lesser scribes spoke up. "Son of Re, the Kaftor are one of the tribes of the Sea Peoples, centred on the cities of Ashkelon and Gezer. Seren is a rank more or less equivalent to Troop Leader."
"Why does a mere Troop Leader address me?"
"Son of Re," said the Chief Scribe. "I believe that this letter reveals the reason. This Seren Achish claims to have your daughters in his hand and..."
"My daughters? What is he talking about?"
"My Lord King," Commander Disebek swiftly cut in. "We should discuss the contents in private." He looked meaningfully at the herald.
"See that he is fed and rested. No doubt there will be a reply for him to take." When the herald had bowed and departed, Merenptah asked the Chief Scribe to read the passage again. "Why does he say 'daughters'? Is it that his writing is poor?"
"No, Son of Re. He says daughters because he speaks of more than one and names them, Lady Tausret and Lady Ti-ament."
"So my daughter Tausret is alive though captive? But who is this Ti-ament? I don't have a daughter called Ti-ament. What nonsense is this?"
Ament coughed discreetly, and as heads turned toward him said, "Son of Re, Ti-ament is my sister and accompanied Lady Tausret."
"Why is she masquerading as my daughter? Has she taken leave of her senses?"
"Son of Re," the Chief Scribe said. "The writer of the letter may be Lady Tausret, and if that is the case, may offer an explanation."
"How do you know she wrote it? Does it have her seal on it? Does she even have a seal?"
"The letter writer claims to be her, Son of Re. May I read it to your majesty?" Merenptah signalled his as
sent and the scribe cleared his throat before starting.
"To Baenre Merenptah, Son of Re, Lord of the Two Lands, greetings from your daughter Tausret Setepenmut.
"Father, I have fallen into the hands of the Kaftor, one of the tribes of the Sea Peoples, along with your other daughter Ti-ament. Our captor is Seren Achish and he demands gold from you for the return of your two daughters, enough gold to match the weight of Seren Achish, once for me, and once for my sister. I estimate that our captor weighs about one thousand deben..."
"What? One thousand deben of gold? That is a fortune."
"One thousand deben each, Son of Re," Disebek said.
"If you think I am paying a fortune to get a servant back you can think again," Merenptah said. "My daughter is worth it, perhaps, but not a servant." The king glanced at Ament as he spoke, but shrugged and offered no word of solace to the Leader of Fifty.
"Son of Re, the letter continues," the Chief Scribe said. "Lady Tausret goes on to say, 'I beg you to pay our ransom quickly, father, as Seren Achish has given you twenty days to pay. If the gold is not in his hands by then, he will force me and my sister and then give us over to his men for their pleasure. Father, the blame is mine for this situation, not my sister's. Please do not blame her in any way, and send the gold for our ransom as soon as you can. I look forward to our release and know that I could not bear to live if only I were ransomed.' That is all, Son of Re, but she signs it 'Lady Tausret and Lady Ti-ament'."
"What does she mean by that last bit?" Seti asked. "About her not bearing to live?"
"She is telling me I must ransom both girls and not just my daughter," Merenptah said quietly. "I could ransom just her, but I would be inviting trouble into my household if I did."
"What will you do, Son of Re?" General Hotepnebi asked. "That is a lot of gold to find at short notice."
"I will pay it, of course, though my daughter has cost me my victory. How can I claim to have destroyed the enemy when I am paying them fine gold?" Merenptah picked up his chair and threw it across the tent, narrowly missing Commander Disebek. "Set's hairy balls! It is as if I am paying tribute to the Sea Peoples."
