by Jerry Dubs
He shook off a frown and smiled at her.
“Akila,” he said as he swept his head, taking in the landscape, “all of this is so real, so powerful, it energizes me. If we are wrong about this battle, if history has been changed by someone, maybe there’s an ‘Imhotep,’ a time-traveler, with the King of Kadesh who has taught him some new way to fight and we’ll all be killed. If that happens, it is beyond our control, right?
“If the guards sent by Pharaoh Thutmose are not meant to protect us, but to kill us once we are out of sight of the army, then,” he shrugged, “we will die. We’ll fight. We always do. And maybe we’ll find a way to survive.
“But in the meantime, this energy that drives me, this consciousness, this spirit, this ka, whatever you want to call it, is enthralled by the browns and reds of the mountains, the pale shade of blue in the sky that slides from one hue to another.
“I feel like Walt Whitman must have felt when he wrote Song of Myself. Have you read it?”
Akila shook her head.
“We’ll get it as soon as we get back to our time,” he said. “Anyhow, the poem is a celebration of himself and of everyone and of everything and their interconnectedness.” Imhotep laughed. “That’s a poor summary.
He lowered his head a moment and then said, “Think of a spring morning, the first hint of lilacs in the air, the grass has turned from brown to green, birds are flying about singing and gathering twigs for nests, the sun feels a little warmer. The air is full of that feeling that makes people believe that the Earth is alive and that Gaia is our nest. We are safe here. Then think of all the days and decisions and accidents that brought you to that moment.”
Akila smiled at Imhotep’s enthusiasm.
This journey and his decision to leave this ancient world have given him new life, new passion, she thought.
“So, all of the energy of the universe that went into creating the stars that melded together lighter atoms to create carbon and iron and calcium, and then the energy that burst that star apart, spreading the new atoms across the universe,” Imhotep continued, his words gaining speed, “millions and millions of years.
“Now, here we are, Akila, you and I, rolling through this ancient, alien landscape. We are here and we taste the air and hear the birds and see the sun and the clouds and the flicks of the horses’ tails.
“Walt Whitman wrote, This minute that comes to me over the past decillions,
There is no better than it and now.”
As Imhotep shook his head in wonder, the years sloughed away and Akila saw Tim Hope as he must have been so many, many years ago; so many, many years in the future.
Beaming, he looked at her, “To answer your question, yes, I am very afraid, Akila. But I have never felt so alive and so hopeful.”
***
The snake that lived in Thanuny’s leg was lulled to sleep by the rocking of the chariot.
Sleeping late this morning, Thanuny hadn’t taken time to apply kohl to his eyes and he had squinted through Re’s bright rays all morning. But now the shadows had turned and Re had passed overhead to watch over the soldier’s shoulders.
Thanuny blinked, feeling the tight muscles in his face relax.
Still, he kept his eyes on the horizon. Yesterday, he had almost overtaken Imhotep’s caravan and he had to be careful to keep his distance. He had watched them leave and he knew that Queen Menwi and Imhotep were well guarded. But once the army came within sight of the enemy, the guards would be pulled forward to protect Pharaoh Thutmose.
Then I will strike, he thought.
And if the guards stay with Imhotep? He wondered.
Then I will wait one more day.
If there is victory, there will be plundering and celebrations. The guards won’t want to be left out of it. Imhotep will be left unprotected.
If the army is defeated there will be confusion as they run away.
Either way, he told himself.
The Aruna Pass
“His army will be lying in wait either here or here,” Djehuty said. He leaned across the table and touched a statuette of the Seth animal that stood on the linen map by a square marked as Yokneam and a second statuette by a square labeled Taanakh.
Pharaoh Thutmose stood across the table, his arms held stiffly at his side. Tjaneni sat beside the ruler at his traveling desk, taking notes as the war council began beneath a canopy erected beside Pharaoh Thutmose’s smaller, traveling tent.
A third, larger statuette of the evil Seth animal sat between the two others on a square marked Megiddo.
Before Pharaoh Thutmose could ask, Djehuty touched the two smaller statuettes. “I have sent scouts to each location, but if I were commanding King Kadesh’s army I would split my forces and place infantry at both locations.”
Djehuty pursed his lips in thought as he studied the map.
“You would make your force smaller by dividing it?” Amenhotep asked. “I’m sorry, General Djehuty. I am not a military man, so I don’t understand.”
Djehuty nodded gravely, his eyes avoiding his friend who had posed the question Djehuty had asked him to raise.
“You are a brilliant quartermaster, Amenhotep, and your question is sound.” Djehuty looked at Pharaoh Thutmose and then said, “Pharaoh Thutmose, the northern road that passes through Yokneam is bordered on the east by rugged hills, impassable by chariots, but perfect for infantry and archers. The terrain to the west of the road is strewn with rocks, again unfit for horses.
“We could eventually fight our way through to Yokneam, but it would take time. A chariot could travel from Yokneam to Taanakh and bring reinforcements before we could gain Yokneam.
“Our army, exhausted and bloody from having fought from an unfavorable position, would then face fresh troops. And our chariots would still be of little use.”
Pharaoh Thutmose’s face hardened and he looked from the map to Imhotep who stood at the edge of the war council beside Neferhotep.
Djehuty cleared his throat to draw Pharaoh Thutmose’s attention back to the map.
“The same idea applies to an advance along the southern road to Taanakh. The road passes through hills and bends northward here.” He touched the map south of Taanakh. The entire route is bordered by low hills. Our infantry can secure them, but again, it will take time. It would allow the King of Kadesh to unite his forces.”
Neferhotep approached the table.
“Where can the fist of Amun be released?” he asked.
“Here,” Djehuty said, pointing to the plains that lay just north of Megiddo.
“Then the King of Kadesh will have his chariots there?”
Djehuty nodded. “There is no other place that they can be arrayed. Although,” he added, “there are points on both the northern and southern route where the road opens onto valleys.”
“We could fight there?” Neferhotep asked.
“Yes, but we would be emerging in a file while the Canaanites would be able to line their chariots across the road and onto the plains, presenting a wall of chariots against our narrow thrust.”
Neferhotep pointed to the plains beyond Megiddo. “How do we get there, General Djehuty? Our chariots can overwhelm them there.”
“I agree, Commander Neferhotep,” Djehuty said, his voice growing impatient, “but the only way there is through Yokneam in the north or Taanakh in the south.”
Neferhotep shook his head angrily. “We can take either road. Our chariots are fast. They can drive through the infantry, scatter them like geese.”
“No, Neferhotep,” Djehuty said. “You will only be able to drive two or three chariots abreast, not the entire line. And you would be facing a sky filled with arrows.”
Neferhotep pounded his fist on the table. “No! We will not be turned ... ”
“Commander,” Pharaoh Thutmose said, silencing Neferhotep, “let us fight the King of Kadesh, not each other.”
Neferhotep blushed in embarrassment and bowed his head. “Forgive me, Pharaoh Thutmose.” He turned to Dje
huty. “Forgive me, general.”
Djehuty put a hand on Neferhotep’s arm. “I admire your confidence, Neferhotep. And your enthusiasm. But I would not have our army travel so far to make a misstep.”
“Lord Imhotep,” Pharaoh Thutmose said softly.
Imhotep looked from his grandson to the ruler of the Two Lands. “Yes, Pharaoh Thutmose,” he said, pushing his way past Djehuty’s lieutenants to reach the table.
“What do you see?”
Imhotep understood what Pharaoh Thutmose was asking: What does your god vision see?
King Djoser had asked the same question. And later, as Imhotep had struggled with engineering problems he didn’t understand, King Djoser had assured him that he was confident that Imhotep would solve the problems.
And I did, Imhotep thought as he stared at the map.
The map showed Yehem, with Egyptian forces clustered around the town, at the bottom center of the map. A road wound north, bending east to the town of Yokneam. From there, a road slanted south and east to Megiddo. The other route drove directly east and then curved north to Taanakh. The road continued northwest from there to Megiddo.
A third road followed the northern route for a few kilometers before cutting northeast to a mountain pass labeled Aruna and from there directly to the plains of Megiddo.
“What is this road?” Imhotep asked Djehuty.
“A narrow pass through the mountains,” Djehuty said. When he saw Imhotep waiting for more, he said, “The road is narrow, pressed on both sides by mountains. Two horses cannot walk side-by-side. The chariots cannot be pulled through it.”
Imhotep nodded. Then he pointed to the spot where the road touched Megiddo. “Does the King of Kadesh have men here?”
“We don’t know, Lord Imhotep. But he wouldn’t need many. A company could hold the pass against an army.”
“But if our army was able to emerge here?”
Djehuty shook his head. “No, Lord Imhotep. Our army cannot emerge there because the road there is too narrow. The chariots cannot travel it.”
“But if they could?” Imhotep persisted.
“They would find themselves on the plain outside Megiddo,” Djehuty answered, trying hard to rein the irritation he was beginning to feel toward his old friend.
Pharaoh Thutmose leaned over the map. “When the Hittites attacked us and Shu raised the desert around us, we unhitched our horses and took shelter beneath the chariots,” he said.
Neferhotep sidled forward. “We can do the same,” he said. “We can lead the horses through the pass.”
“And the chariots?” Djehuty asked.
“We can carry them,” Neferhotep said.
Djehuty crossed his arms.
“Pharaoh Thutmose,” he said. “We have infantry. We have archers with a million arrows. We can take the northern route or the southern route. It will take time and blood will be shed, but ... ”
“But our chariots are our strength,” Neferhotep said. “With the northern or southern routes the chariots wait idly behind the infantry.”
“The chariots would be carried through the pass of Aruna,” Djehuty said loudly. “How can that be better?” He turned to Pharaoh Thutmose. “If we venture through the narrow pass, we might find the enemy waiting for us there. While our advance guard fights, our rear guard will be standing in the narrow wadi, far from the battle.”
Pharaoh Thutmose looked at the map. Then he studied Imhotep’s face. The god was keeping his thoughts closed. Pharaoh Thutmose looked at Neferhotep. The god’s grandson was red with anger. He clearly wanted to take the center route, to carry his chariots through the narrow pass.
He doesn’t want to stand behind the army and wait for word of victory or defeat.
“General Djehuty,” Pharaoh Thutmose said, “on both the northern route and southern route, the charioteers will be left behind, unable to fight.”
“Yes, Pharaoh Thutmose, but ... ” Pharaoh Thutmose raised a hand to stop him.
“And they will have to carry their chariots through the pass of Aruna, I understand. But, if they find their way through the pass and harness their horses, we will have placed our army on the plains before the gates of Megiddo,” Pharaoh Thutmose said.
Djehuty saw where Pharaoh Thutmose’s thoughts were leading him. “Let our victorious lord proceed upon whichever road he desires,” he said, bowing his head. “But do not cause us to go by a difficult road.”
The men fell silent and waited for Pharaoh Thutmose to speak.
“I swear,” Pharaoh Thutmose said, “as Re loves me, as my father Amun favors me, as my nostrils are rejuvenated with satisfying life, I will proceed upon the road to Aruna.” He looked from man to man. “Let him who will among you go upon those roads you have mentioned, and let him who will among you come in the following of my majesty.”
Djehuty raised his bowed head.
“May your father Amun grant you long life, Pharaoh Thutmose! We will follow your majesty in every place where your majesty leads.”
Into the Mountains
A light breeze drifted across the Egyptian camp, stirring pennants to life, tousling the manes of sleeping horses, swirling thin smoke streams from the dying camp fires. Carrying the scent of smoke and the sweat of unwashed soldiers, Shu’s light breath riffled a stack of flat papyrus held in place by a rock.
Awake before dawn, Tjaneni leaned down from his stool and picked up a second rock. He put it atop the papyrus and turned his face to the breeze. Inhaling, he smiled. The air smelled so different here away from the palace.
When they had first left Men-Nefer, the delta air had been heavy with the smell of rotting vegetation and dying fish. Then they had turned toward the coast and Shu had sent a breeze from the sea, carrying the scent of salt and the promise of emptiness. When the army turned away from the Great Green the air had changed again, carrying the desolate dryness of a desert. Now, here where Geb pushed rocky mountains toward his wife, the air rolled across the plains, carrying a coolness from those mountains.
Tjaneni carefully extracted a sheet of papyrus from the stack and laid it on his desk. He selected a reed, inspected the narrow tip and frowned. Picking up his knife, he trimmed the tip slightly. Satisfied, he wet the reed and brushed it against the block of ash until the tip was black.
“Year twenty-three, the third season, the twentieth day,” Tjaneni wrote. “My majesty proceeded northward under the protection of Amun and Re, lords of Waset, who go before him.”
Tjaneni leaned forward and blew gently on the wet ink, watching the liquid fasten itself to the dried, flattened stalks.
Recording history, he thought.
Later his words would be inscribed onto the walls of temples upon everlasting stones.
My thoughts, etched into eternity.
Distant movement caught his eye.
He pushed his stool back and stood to see across the low tents — men moving among the corrals, the maryannu gathering their horses to harness them to the chariots. Nearer he saw men with heavier chests and thicker arms emerging from their tents to stretch and yawn. The infantry returning to life from a night dreaming of ... of what, Tjaneni wondered.
Of what do men dream before battle?
Light footsteps approached him. Turning, he saw Pharaoh Thutmose, his eyes lined in kohl, his head freshly shaved, his chest smooth and oiled. A broad necklace decorated his chest, and golden armbands caught the morning light, gave it luster and returned it to the world.
Walking briskly, Pharaoh Thutmose nodded to Tjaneni and then hurried into the camp where his arrival was quickly greeted with shouts.
Slowing his pace among the soldiers, Pharaoh Thutmose raised his arms to the sky, welcoming Re to come witness the glory of the army of the Two Lands.
The men cheered louder, glancing at each other, smiling and nodding their heads. How could victory be denied to an army led by a god?
***
The foot soldiers, led by General Djehuty, began the march six abreast, the thousand r
ows of infantry taking almost half an hour to leave the camp. An hour later, when they turned off the main road and entered the mountain pass, they were reduced to three abreast. To their right and to their left, the brown mountains sloped skyward, their sides rough and littered with loose rocks.
The men left camp singing, but when they turned westward, Djehuty sent word through the ranks for the men to hold their voices. Following orders that he considered dangerous, Djehuty was holding not just his voice but his breath.
Although the Egyptian scouts sent out the previous night had not seen any enemy movement among the mountains, Djehuty didn’t trust the silent hills.
If he could, he would have killed every bird that nested here, every snake that hid beneath a rock, every goat that stalked surefooted across the scattered scree. Each bird taking flight, each goat scrambling to higher ground could alert the enemy army and expose this thin, twisting line of soldiers to attack.
Djehuty chewed his lips as he walked, his eyes turning constantly from one side of the narrow defile to the other.
“General,” a voice said softly, “your scouts are ahead. The day is quiet.”
Djehuty turned his face to see Kebu.
“Why are you not with your archers?”
“They haven’t entered the pass, General Djehuty,” Kebu said. “I wanted to see how narrow this is and if the sides of the mountains are passable. I thought I could bring some archers up to cover our flanks.”
Djehuty shook his head. “Up ahead the mountainside becomes too steep, Kebu. My scouts say that even the goats cannot climb it.”
Kebu looked over the mountains, so different from the jungles he had traveled alone after being wounded at Ta Netjer. I survived the baboons and the snakes and the lions, he told himself. I will survive this.
***
An hour later Imhotep stood beside Neferhotep as they watched Kebu lead his two thousand archers into the narrow pass.
