by Max Overton
"I will give him a strong name for he will be a mighty warrior and king after me. A son of Ptah in the House of Ramesses which will last a thousand years."
Sethi nodded appreciatively. "Ramesses-Siptah. That is a good name, my Lord, for it brings to mind Usermaatre Ramesses and your father Baenre Merenptah. How long before he is born?"
"Another four months, I'm told. I thought to have Suterere brought north to Khent-Min. I spent my youth there, did you know? It has good water, and the breezes blow the fever away, so it is a healthy place for my Crown Prince to grow up."
"Indeed, my Lord. And closer to you when you become king. Have you given any thought to the city you will call your capital?"
"Waset, City of Amun. Amun is the most powerful god and I mean to make him my personal god. I considered Per-Ramesses and Men-nefer, of course, but they are associated too strongly with my grandfather and father. Hundreds of years from now, I want men to look back and think of me and Waset together."
"I'm sure they will, my Lord."
Messuwy lapsed into silence and Sethi turned his thoughts back to the problem of securing a victory over Merey the Ribu. According to his latest information, sped southward by a foreign rider on horseback, the Ribu horde was approaching the city of Perire and would be past it, penetrating deep into Ta Mehu within days. His man in Per-Ramesses reported the presence of the king and prince in the vicinity, both apparently unaware of the impending threat to the Ma'at of the Northern Kingdom. That would change, of course, as the king's own spies would carry word to Merenptah and the king would, predictably, take the northern legions to meet the Ribu head on.
Sethi had, through his discreet envoys, told Merey where to meet Merenptah in battle. There was a certain stretch of land between the rivers where the soil was soft and criss-crossed with drainage ditches, rendering chariots useless. It was important, the envoy had said, that they meet there, where the main strength of the legions would be negated. Sethi had his own ideas on how to defeat Merey after Merenptah had been defeated and hopefully, killed. It involved the southern legions and the chariot squadrons of the Southern Kingdom, drawing Merey out of Ta Mehu into the firm plains beyond the rivers. There, the disciplined legions and overwhelming chariots would cut the barbarians to pieces. Messuwy would be crowned king in his father's place and he, Sethi, would take his place at the king's side as Tjaty of the combined kingdoms.
Sethi allowed himself some pleasant daydreams. Messuwy's son was as yet unborn and unlikely ever to become king. It was not unknown for a Tjaty to take that last great step up and become king, and Sethi would make sure that he grasped the power in the kingdoms firmly in his two hands. It was even possible...
A hail interrupted his thoughts and Sethi looked up to see that Waset was looming, the viceregal barge now steadily approaching the docks. Flocks of white-sailed boats thronged the rippling green waters of the Great River, and the barge captain slowed the stroke of the oars to negotiate a safe course through them. The great barge came to rest on the docks of Waset and a number of palace guards ran out to keep back the men and women of the city who had turned out to see the King's Son of Kush. A bevy of white-robed and leopard-skinned priests hung back, awaiting the viceregal attention, and an official delegation arrived, Tjaty of the South Neferronpet there to welcome the powerful Viceroy from Kush.
Sethi stepped out in front of Messuwy, causing a few shocked gasps from the crowd at the perceived affront to the dignity of the King's Son of Kush, but the exalted noble did not seem to mind. He nodded and smiled, and greeted the Tjaty and Hem-netjer Roma-Rui warmly. Seti drew the high priest to one side while Messuwy talked to Neferronpet.
"Any word from the north?"
"Some." Roma-Rui withdrew into the midst of the junior priests of Amun so all the ears around them were friendly ones. "The Ribu have invaded, but there is fighting around Perire. The king is in Per-Ramesses, at least he was, but is preparing to go west with two legions."
Sethi nodded, looking thoughtful. "I don't understand why there is fighting around Perire. If the king is in Per-Ramesses, who are the Ribu fighting? Amenakht knows to let them past."
"I have arranged for daily couriers to bring news. Perhaps we will hear more soon. This does not affect your plans?"
Sethi did not answer. "What is the mood of the city?"
"Mixed. I have agents out fomenting discontent. A large part of the city would support the Chosen of Amun rather than the Beloved of Ptah, particularly if he ruled from Waset."
"Who opposes us?"
"A handful of nobles, and Neferronpet, of course."
"And the Commander of the Amun legion? What is his name?"
"Setnakhte. He is for us, but cautiously. He won't declare for us yet."
"We need the Amun legion."
"I'll work on him. He'll come round."
"Why do I know the name Setnakhte?"
"He's a son of Usermaatre, by a concubine."
"Really? Gods, he must be an old man by now."
"He was a son of the king's later years. Married to one of the old king's granddaughters by a Nubian prince or some such, I believe. He has a young son named for the old king."
"Who cares? He won't be featuring largely in the kingdoms. So, on to other matters, Roma-Rui. You have supplies for us?"
"Temple supplies. I shall expect to be reimbursed."
"You will be, when the kingdoms are ours."
The high priest would have raised an eyebrow if he had not shaved them off, but his expression was still quizzical. "Ours? I have no such ambition."
Sethi smiled and looked to where Messuwy was in earnest conversation with the Southern Tjaty. "No? Well, the rewards will be high for those who support the Chosen of Amun."
The Viceregal entourage repaired to the high priest's residence for refreshment, though Neferronpet excused himself, pleading the pressure of his duties. The Kushite legion, under their deputy commander Paramen, presented itself at the barracks of the Amun legion where they rested and ate their fill. The city treasurer released grain from the granaries and numerous cattle so beer, bread and beef could be provided for the sudden influx of people.
While Messuwy and Sethi enjoyed the plentiful and tasty food on the high priest's table, the latest messenger from the north arrived and was shown into a small chamber. A priest sent for Roma-Rui, passing on the news in cryptic terms. The high priest made his excuses and left. When he returned, his face was grim, a fact that Sethi picked up on in a moment, but Messuwy did not.
"Excellent beef," Messuwy exclaimed to his host, holding aloft a great chunk of the roasted meat. "Fatty and succulent just the way I like it. Not at all like the scrawny stuff that's served up to me in Napata." He laughed and poured himself another cup of wine. "We may be able to grow fine gold in Kush, but not decent beef."
"What's happened?" Sethi asked.
"I'm not sure," Roma-Rui said. "A messenger has just arrived with the latest intelligence. The Ribu are attacking Perire and have been for at least three days."
"The fools. That was not the plan. What of the king?"
"He has embarked his legions and chariots on a fleet of boats, turning upriver to the westernmost branch and then down it."
"What? Not across land?"
"It seems not. By now he will be nearing Perire."
"What's this?" Messuwy asked around a mouthful of beef, the juices running down his chin. He wiped them away with one hand and reached for the wine with the other. "The king is at Perire? With the Ribu? That wasn't supposed to happen...was it?"
"No, my Lord."
"But the Ribu will still win?" Roma-Rui asked. "They must outnumber the king's army."
"By about two to one," Sethi said. "But the legions are disciplined and he has experienced chariot squadrons."
"But he wasn't supposed to be able to use his chariots," Messuwy complained.
"No, of course he wasn't, you..." Sethi took a deep breath and continued more calmly. "The Ribu were supposed to meet the king
between the rivers where the chariots were well nigh useless. If they meet at Perire, the king can deploy his chariots and possibly win."
Messuwy swallowed and wiped his mouth on the edge of the linen tablecloth. "So what do we do? We can still prevail, can't we?"
Sethi shook his head. "This changes everything. We must wait for news of the battle's outcome. If the Ribu win, we still have a chance; but if the king wins..." He fell silent, frowning deeply.
"If the king wins?" Roma-Rui prompted.
"Then we have to present him with a very good reason for us leaving Kush, and pray that nobody betrays us."
Chapter Thirty-Four
Year 5 of Baenre Merenptah
Four days later, not long before dawn, the barges holding the dismantled and stacked chariots of Merenptah's army, and ones holding penned horses, moored on the riverbank southeast of Perire. Flocks of small boats drew up close to them, disembarking a few men each, with cramped limbs but eager to get moving. Artificers started to put the chariots together, stable hands exercising the horses, and cooks feeding the men, while scouts went out to search for the enemy. They returned shortly and reported to the king.
"We have them, gentlemen," Merenptah said, his face wreathed in a smile. "The Ribu are still at Perire, not ten thousand paces from here."
"And Tausret?" Seti asked.
The king's face clouded. "No word."
"Then we must make haste," Besenmut said.
"I will not be hurried," Merenptah said. "Not having come so far to catch the enemy unawares." He looked to Disebek who had just entered the tent. "Where are the conscripts from the south? Are they close?"
"An hour away, Son of Re. A thousand men gathered from the towns and estates of Ta Mehu. Most can scarcely hold an axe or a spear, but they are eager for the fight."
"Have the men drawn up in rank of battle. I will address the commanders down to Leader of Fifty rank."
The sun was still low in the eastern sky when Baenre Merenptah spoke to his commanders in front of his massed army. Common soldiers stood in ranks, hands grasping their curved bronze swords or short axes, others holding their long spears aloft, while the archers stood with their quivers of arrows at their belts and unstrung bows in their hands. The recent conscripts, drawn from the towns and rural estates at short notice, held makeshift weapons, clubs, wooden staves, or mattocks, but stood with expressions of grim determination.
The foot soldiers were divided into two groupings within each legion. Archers, armed with the composite bow held quivers of arrows but had little else. Some carried short handled spears tucked into a belt or copper daggers, but generally the archers were removed from the main area of conflict, wreaking their destruction from a distance. The other group were the Nakhtu-aa, or shock troops, whose duty was to close with the enemy warriors and engage in close-body combat. They wore armour made of stiffened cloth wound around their bodies, and some had helmets made of leather or bronze. They also carried wooden-framed hide-covered shields large enough to cover the torso, and wielded an assortment of weapons that ranged from stone clubs to short-handled stabbing spears, from curved khopesh copper swords to long bronze-tipped throwing spears.
Off to one side the horses of the chariot squadrons stamped and blew, caught up in the pre-battle excitement, while grooms held the horses' heads, soothing them. Charioteers wound the reins around their arms, unwound them and rewound them again, nervously, while the bowmen beside them in the light vehicles checked over their arrows. The royal chariots stood a little to one side, the charioteers holding themselves proudly as they prepared to carry their divine king and his son into battle.
"Hear me, men of Kemet," Merenptah said. "These men of Ribu are scarcely worthy of the name, being dogs who would rend our land and carry off our goods and women as plunder. I will not allow this; for by my strong right arm and your worthy efforts we will throw them down into the dust and trample them beneath our feet. You are men of Kemet, and I am your rightful ruler, placed on the throne of the Two Lands by the gods themselves. Amun-Re is our shield and Set is the strength of our right arms whereby we shall destroy these invaders.
"Last night I had a dream, men of Kemet, a dream sent by the gods. I dreamt I stood in the temple of Ptah and worshipped him, and the statue of the god, towering above me in his power and wisdom spoke to me. He thrust a khepesh sword into my hands and told me to take it and smite the enemies of Kemet with it. This I vowed to do, and that is what I will accomplish today.
"We march on the enemy at Perire, men of Kemet. For four days, my daughter Tausret has held the enemy at Perire, giving us time to get here before the Ribu and their allies can put our precious land to flame and sword. Now is the time for action. Advance into battle, men of Kemet, knowing that we will prevail. The gods are with us, so onward to victory."
The officers raised a cheer, and behind them the army, though only a few had heard the words of their king, shook their weapons or fists in the air, or beat their blades on their hide-covered shields, and roared their acclaim, shouting out the king's name and that of the gods.
"Baenre! Amun! Re! Set! Ptah!"
The sound rolled across the countryside like peals of thunder, and the officers ran back to their units, waving them forward. Merenptah and Seti mounted their chariots and drove out in front of the legions and squadrons, turning to the northwest, their shadows leading them into battle. The troops surged forward, eager to find and engage with the enemy. They were, for the most part, rested and well fed after their river journey and rapidly advanced on Perire. The sun was only halfway to the zenith when the walls came in sight.
Rams' horns sounded, the Nakhtu-aa fell into position with archers on either side, and the chariot squadrons hovered on the flanks. From the city arose loud cries and the sound of horns, and the Ribu came streaming out of Perire, joined by thousands more from the surrounding countryside. Merenptah watched from his chariot on the right wing and Prince Seti from the left wing, and they smiled as they saw the disarray of the enemy.
The Ribu formed up in units, jostling and pushing as each man tried to find his proper position. Before they could do so, Merenptah signalled and the archers loosed volley after volley into the air. Enemy archers shot back, but in ragged volleys, not like the swathes of death that fell upon the Ribu and their allies. Shouts and screams rose up as men fell, and hard on the fall of arrows, the Nakhtu-aa charged, the solid wall of hide shields crashing into the disorganised enemy, throwing them back into chaos. Then the Ribu regrouped and fought back, superior numbers pushing the Kemetu away. Into the struggling mass of fighters, now reduced to groups of two or three men fighting, Merenptah threw his chariotry.
The chariots cut a swathe through the enemy foot soldiers, biting deep into the flanks on either side, through the more tenuous ranks at the rear and circling round before plunging back into the fray. A group of Sherden stood firm in their bronze corselets and horned helmets, and the fury of the Kemetu chariotry broke around them before swirling away to find easier prey. Others of the Sea Peoples, the Shekelesh, the Tursha, and the Akawasha, also proved hard to counter as they were considerably more disciplined than their Ribu allies.
Merenptah ordered his chariots to circle the armoured soldiers, pouring a hail of arrows into their ranks until sufficient gaps appeared and then driving into their lines, the horses' hooves and chariot wheels, their flashing blades wielded in fury, prised the enemy units apart. Horses fell, transfixed by enemy arrows and spears, adding their screams to the din of battle, and charioteers and bowmen were thrown to the ground to die beneath the blades of the enemy. Yet the number of Kemetu chariots was such that they overwhelmed the formations of the Sea Peoples and burst the ranks of the Ribu asunder.
The sun rose toward the zenith and started its downward course, and still the two armies fought within a choking dust cloud, hacking and stabbing, lashing out with the edge of a shield or gouging at an opponent's eyes with hooked fingers. Blood flowed freely, spattering every man. Dead men
lay everywhere, and wounded men cried out in pain and terror, seeking surcease from the horror of battle. The tide of victory flowed in favour of the Kemetu, and then for the Ribu, back and forth as exhausted, bloody men lifted their weapons and sobbed as they closed once more with their foe.
Merenptah and his son Seti pulled their chariots together and surveyed the struggling mass of men on the plains of Perire. Both man and youth were spattered with blood and filth, and tired as Merenptah was, he felt sympathy for the exhaustion lining his son's face. The fate of the battle still hung on the scales of the gods.
Seti pointed. "There, father. The battle standard of Merey, son of Dedy. We must capture it and kill their chief."
Merenptah closed his eyes, summoning the last of his strength. His whole body ached and his chest hurt as if a band of bronze was bound about it. "Amun-Re give me strength," he prayed. "Set of battles bear me up; listen to your beloved son, O Ptah. Let me kill the chief of my enemies." The king listened, but the gods were silent and he felt no strength entering his limbs. Merenptah nodded and sighed. "Let it be as you wish." He turned to his son.
"Lead the charge, Prince Seti. To you falls the honour of killing the enemy chief."
The young prince's face lit up and he grinned, his teeth white in the mask of blood and dust. "Thank you, father." He turned and summoned a signaller, ordering him to sound the charge on the rams' horns. Raising a hand to his father the king, Seti's chariot wheeled away and fifty chariots gathered around him as he sped like a bright lance toward the enemy chief.
Enemy heads lifted as they heard the rumble of wheels and pounding hooves. Men looked up and saw death approaching. Merey, son of Dedy, quailed, stood in indecision for a few moments, and then turned to run. He threw away his weapons, hauled a messenger off his horse and leapt up on the beast's back, drumming his heels into its flanks. The Ribu chief fled the field of battle even as Seti's chariots crashed into the panic-stricken enemy, trampling many underfoot and sending the rest fleeing. Terror rippled through the Ribu army, and everywhere men threw down their weapons and took to their heels or dropped to their knees with arms held out in supplication.
