by Joan Grant
Then before me I saw his chariot, no longer empty, for in it he rode in splendour.
And as their ranks advanced upon the plain, he waved me onward, and I gave the battle cry, ‘Atet and Light’. And the chariot of Atet led me as in a wheeling wave we swung upon this mighty footed host.
Our chariots thundered to the charge, and we flung the first flight of our throwing-spears. I saw one impale their high-priest through the groin, and he died in the spouting of his evil blood. They tried to scatter before us, but from each side, like the two wings of a hawk, the ranks of our spearmen closed upon them. The chariot on my right was overthrown, the belly of the screaming horse split open by a sword. I saw a captain sever a Zuma’s head, and the blood upjetted from the empty neck before the body crashed forward on the ground. I saw a charioteer rein back his horse while the warrior leapt out to pluck his spear from where it was wedged between the ribs of a man who had fallen under the chariot wheel. I saw a young captain still fighting on, though his left hand was severed at the wrist.
Then before me in the swaying press of men, I saw Zernak, dressed in the insignia of a king. He sprang on to the hub of my chariot, striving to cut me down with his sweeping sword. I drove my spear downward, downward through his throat, and its haft drank deep of Zuma blood, which drenched from his mouth and veiled the hatred glaring from his eyes, eyes that had hoped to see Kam vanquished.…Now if I die I would have killed my enemy and tasted the strong wine of victory.…I felt the wild surge of triumphal joy as when the cobra crumbled in my hands. I pulled off my helmet and let my hair stream free, so that before he died he should know that a woman Pharaoh was a greater warrior than a Zuma king.
When the Zumas saw their king was slain they became a rabble without ordered rank and tried to retreat to safety up the gorge, but their way was barred by their own soldiers beaten back by Zeb.
Our chariots could not follow up the rocky defile, so I halted them while our spearmen pursued the fleeing enemy.
For nearly an hour the gorge echoed with the tumult of battle. Then again I heard our battle cry, and from the gorge came Zeb in victory. I had been wounded after Zernak’s death, but when our chariots drew back to the plain I had put on my cloak so that none should see that I had been hurt. But now that the victory was safe, I looked at my wound and found a broken arrow through my left arm near to the shoulder.
When Zertar came to tend the wound, he said that he must cut out the arrow-head, and asked me whether I could bear the pain or whether he should call a Horus priest. But I said, no, that an arrow was a clean sharp pain, far easier than the bearing of a child.
CHAPTER FOUR
The Stele
Over fourteen hundred of our warriors had been killed. The severely wounded, who numbered nearly five hundred, lay on folded cloaks in the shade of the cliffs. I went among them with the healer priests, and told them how their children would rejoice to know themselves so magnificently sired.
Then I heard that Maates was dead, killed by an arrow when nine Zuma heads had split under his mace. I said that he should have the burial of a prince and lie beside my tomb in Abidwa, where one day my own body would be laid: both resting after battle in the Light.
Of the invaders, all were dead save three hundred wounded. Though of Zuma blood, they should stay here until their hurts were healed, and then escort the embalmed body of their king back to his country, so that Zernak’s people should see how a king returns when he has set forth to conquer the Two Lands. The two thousand servants of their baggage train should be kept in Kam for a year. They should work in the brick-fields under the same conditions as our own people. This same thing we do to all prisoners of war, and when they return to their own country, they take with them a memory of the compassion of Kam. There was little of value to us in the Zuma encampment, excepting four hundred and eighty horses, and they were all stallions. And twenty of our mares, which had been born of those captured by my father from Sardok, had been killed.
In the evening when the sun was low, the wounded were taken from the groves of trees and carried down to the boats to return swiftly to Men-atet-iss. I was tired and my wound was burning my flesh. I sat with Zeb leaning against a tree, beyond the shadows of the cooking fires. He told me more of the battle. The Zuma ranks had broken when they were surprised by his archers; and though some had stood their ground, many had fled, only to find their way barred by Maates. I knew that Zeb’s heart was sorrowful that Maates had died, for they were long friends, closer than many brothers. I told him how my father had returned to lead us to victory, and that now Maates followed him as in his golden chariot he outstripped the sun. And I talked to him of the days when we were young; of how when we had first met he had taught me courage; and from my anger friendship had been born; of how he had saved Neyah’s life on a hunting expedition in the South when a wounded leopard turned on him. And I said to him, “The two who were once an angry child and a lion boy have become Pharaoh and a Captain-of-Captains.”
When he realized that I had given him the highest rank to which a warrior can attain, he tried to tell me of his gratitude, but I said, “So often have you risked your life for me and those I love.”
And he answered, “But when you were a little girl I gave my life into your hands, and always it is there to do with as you will.” And I knew that Zeb would serve me if I were not Pharaoh, but a herdsman’s child.
All that night the sky was lit by the burning bodies of our enemies. And at dawn our warriors who had died in victory were laid in the earth that they had protected with their lives. Wrapped in their cloaks, their weapons in their hands, they slept the deep sleep that the body knows when it has released the spirit to walk in peace. And over their graves I spoke these words:
“Mighty Ptah, who gave life to these your children, welcome them back to your country from whence they came. Theirs was the Scarlet of the God of Warriors, and their swords reflected the Light. Proudly they lived and splendidly they died, and the memory of them shall dwell in our hearts even as they dwell in your country.”
And I decreed: “To mark this resting-place a great stele shall be erected, and on it shall be carved, ‘Here lie the bodies of fourteen hundred and eighty-six warriors of Kam, who died to give peace to the Two Lands and to shield her from the Shadow’. And then shall be their names and mine, and the time of their victory, ‘On the twelfth day of the fourth month of the Harvest in the eighth year of the reign of Zat Atet, Nekht, Sekhet-a-ra Meri-neyt, Daughter of Anubis, Bearer of the Golden Lotus of Wisdom, Keeper of the Scales of Justice, Holder of the Crook and Flail, Ruler of the Two Lands, Keeper of the Boundaries of Kam, Pharaoh’. It shall be cut deep into the stone, so that it shall endure through the span of many lives. And it may be that some whose names are recorded upon it will see this stele when they are re-born in Kam. And they may remember, and smile, and say, ‘Once I was buried here’.”
CHAPTER FIVE
The Homecoming
News of the battle had been given forth from all the temples; and as we sailed down river, the people crowded the banks to see the return of Pharaoh and the Royal Army in victory. We reached Men-atet-iss on the fourth day. On the quay stood my Tchekeea, dressed as a warrior prince and holding the Flail, which I had put in her hands to lighten the moment when I had left her.
Grave as a vizier she held out the Flail to me and said, “While you have been gone I have kept your city safe and I have held the Flail truly for you. Now it is yours again—and I need no longer be so very good.” And so, casting her dignity aside, she flung her arms round me.
She came with me in my litter to the palace, and on the way she must hear all about the battle. She questioned me on every detail, and sighed to think she had not seen my spear kill Zernak.
“When can we have the banquet? I shall stay up all night and no one can send me to bed, because you promised.” And I told her we would wait for Neyah’s return, which I expected within two days.
Tchekeea said, “When you were awa
y I behaved just like you. When anyone argued with me I showed them the Flail and said you had put it in my hands and so all must obey me. And every morning I asked the Gods tremendously hard to look after you and to let you win very quickly; and I asked them four and five and six times a day so they couldn’t possibly forget. Do you think if I had asked oftener you wouldn’t have been wounded? Was it a very hurting arrow?”
And I told her, “It didn’t hurt any more than cutting your knee does when you fall down in the middle of an exciting game; and if you hadn’t asked the Gods so very hard, the arrow might have hit me somewhere it really mattered.”
“First I thought I would dress like a queen and have malachite on my eyes, and sweeping eyebrows; and then I thought as you were being a king I would be a prince, and I wouldn’t dress myself or let anybody else do it until they brought me princely clothes. And I commanded that all should call me Den. I took Natee out for all his walks and practised with my bow and throwing-spear until Benater had to say that I was as good as a boy of twice my age.…And Silvermane has had a little foal, and it’s a mare. Neyah promised he would give it to me, and she is to have a meadow of her own, with trees and a house thatched from the sun.…And Mother, while I was out I met a little girl who had fallen down and tore her only dress. As I was prince I didn’t like girls’ clothes, so I gave twelve of my tunics to her. You don’t mind? Nekza wasn’t very pleased, but I didn’t listen to her while I held the Flail.…And when they sent from the temple to tell of your victory I went to the market and told all the merchants to give everything on their stalls to the people and to take no exchange for it, but to come to the palace and I would give them twice the value of all they had given away. I told Rey-hetep. He looked surprised, so I said, ‘It is the royal word’. And so he did it, and everyone was pleased. Will you promise to tell Neyah, the first moment you see him, that he mustn’t call me Tchekeea any more, but always Den?”
When I reached the palace, the hot south wind was stirring the brilliant folds of the flags, which flew from triumphal masts that columned the full length of the white painted walls and, on the pylon, rested in deep grooves like a rack of spears.
Zertar said that I must rest in my room for three days, for the muscle of my arm was deeply torn and unless it was kept still the flesh would not heal without scar. It was good at last to put off my warrior dress and to lie in hot water strewn with orange-flowers, to have my body soothed with healing oils and feel the weariness seeping from my bones. The linen of my bed was smooth and cool, yet my body was too tired to sleep. So I sent for Maata, who with her strong gentle fingers soothed the muscles of my head and neck, until under her kind hands my body grew quiet and let my spirit go.
CHAPTER SIX
Neyah’s Return
When Neyah reached the palace early next day, he came straight to my room. His brow was lined with the burden of his thoughts, and I saw that he was weary from swift travelling. Before I would talk of all that had befallen us, I sent for broth and wine and made him eat.
He said, “I was on a leopard hunt two days north-west of Na-kish, when you appeared to me in a dream. You said to me, ‘Return; journey swiftly down river. Kam is in danger’. Then you put your thumb upon my forehead and said, ‘Remember’. When I awoke I set off north-east and reached the river on the morning of the next day. I took a fast riverboat of thirty oars, which belonged to a noble, and travelled downstream, journeying night and day with relays of rowers. I knew that the seer of the garrison would have received news of the danger and the Captain-of-Captains would have already started north, so there was no need for me to send a messenger to Na-kish to warn them. At midnight on the third day I reached Nekht-an, where they told me that it was the Zumas that threatened us, and that at dawn you would give battle with them in the Amphitheatre of Grain. Never again will I journey without a seer, for not until we came in sight of Abidwa and saw the flags, did I know that we had won a victory. The Vizier came out to meet me with the news that the Zumas had been destroyed and that the Southern Garrison had turned back from Nekht-an.
“When I reached the Amphitheatre of Grain, the bodies of their dead were still smouldering. The stallions of Zernak were pastured on the plain, and my patience outpaced the rowers’ arms, so I took the king’s chariot and the swiftest of his horses, and in thirty hours I reached the Royal City, only halting when my horses must be rested.”
Then I told him the story of the four days when Kam was balanced in Tahuti’s Scales. And when I told him how our father had returned to lead me, Neyah said, “I thought my army would fight leaderless, but I should have known that Atet left two sons, two Pharaohs whose chariots could lead the van of spears. Never was man so blessed in his wife, my sister, my brother, Pharaoh, and Priest of Anubis!”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Belshazzardak
Two days later news was brought to me that Belshazzardak had not been found among the Zuma dead. I sent soldiers to search for him, and they found him three days’ journey across the high desert towards the sea, hiding in the tent of a herdsman whom he had killed; and he was brought to the Royal City.
Next day, a thousand people assembled in the Hall of Audience to hear me give the judgment of Pharaoh upon this follower of Set. When he was brought into my presence I knew that here was no great one of the Darkness, for he did not possess that strong shield of pride with which they challenge the onslaught of the Light; for his eyes, heavy-lidded as a crocodile’s, were dull with fear.
And I pronounced judgment upon him:
“Belshazzardak, Mouthpiece of the Gods of Zuma, hear my voice!
“If you had been a priest of power, even though that power were used in the name of Set, then I should have challenged your will with mine; and if you had conquered, then you would have returned to your country unmolested. If you had been a true priest, you would have been our honoured guest, even though our countries were enemies, and you would have returned in peace to your home. If I had found that you were a strong man, worthy of my hatred, then should I have put my condemnation upon you for daring to lead your people in an attempt to desecrate my country.
“But you have so little knowledge, even of evil, that you have made yourself a weapon in the hands of a Princeling of the Shadow.
“I do not prophesy, neither do I condemn; I but tell you the workings of the Law, I but tell you what harvest you will gather from the seed you have sown. To add my condemnation to what you have already brought upon yourself were to drive a thorn into a man’s foot when there is a sword twisting in his heart.
“You have allowed your body to be used by another’s spirit. If you had a hundredth part of the knowledge that you claim, you would know that no one who is not evil would use the body of another for his own.
“If a man plunges his hand into a cauldron of boiling bitumen, then will that hand be crippled and no longer obey his will. The will of one who allows himself to be possessed is so weakened that for many lives thereafter he is born insane. When you are re-born, in sleep you will look down on the prison of the body to which you must return, knowing that, when you wake, that drooling figure will crawl upon the ground and scream in terror of the hideous shapes that do surround it.
“You were a priest, although in name alone, over a great multitude. You should have been a light unto their twilight, but you were a heavy shadow upon their darkness. For this, you will experience all that these people suffer because of you.
“An army of many thousand men trusted you to guide them to victory, but, because you are a false priest, your tongue ordered them to their death. When you die you will return to that moment when you led your host from the pass through the cliffs, and saw, not a herd of bulls for sacrifice, but the wheeling chariots of Pharaoh, and, seeing them, knew that you had betrayed your people. Caught in the moment of your betrayal, time will stand still for you, and yet seem endless, between the death of a madman and the birth of an idiot child.
“Six days ago the body of your king left on i
ts last journey to your country. To-morrow, as though you were a true priest, my soldiers shall escort you to the outposts of Zuma; for if you had been a true priest, your people would have needed you to guide them in their tribulation. The news will have gone ahead of you of what befell their army because they listened to your voice, and you will find a welcome worthy of you—in Kam we do not torture prisoners.
“And when you are again re-born in Zuma, still may you hear them telling round their fires the story of the humiliation of their smooth oracle, Belshazzardak.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Safeguarding of the Two Lands
Twice had Zuma challenged the strength of Atet and twice had Zuma been driven back from Kam, and now Neyah and I sat in council with our Captains-of-Captains and with the Viziers of Men-atet-iss, Abidwa, Iss-an, and Nekht-an, to decide how our boundaries were to be made safe for our children.
It is easy to make a decision when it involves only one’s own life, but when the lives of many thousands of people will be altered, then is the yoke of responsibility heavy upon one’s shoulders. Though everything that we do changes our future, some actions show their reflection in a day and others stretch far ahead of us. Before setting forth to climb a high mountain, it is well to think not only of the precipices that must be scaled, but also of the new vistas that can be seen when the summit is reached.
With a great army of two hundred thousand men Neyah could scourge the people of Zuma with a mighty flail, so that, as long as memory dwelt in them and in their children of many generations, they should never again assail the might of Kam. But what if our armies crowned victory with victory and swept through the Land of Zuma as easily as a sword cuts honeycomb? Our boundaries would be thrice increased, yet if we were Pharaoh of Zuma as well as of Kam, would our people be happier when we wore this triple crown? What do our people lack in the Two Lands? We have enough grain for none to go hungry; each man has land for his garden; our vineyards give us wine, and our flax fields are blue lakes among the corn and our linen-weavers know not empty looms.
