by Jerry Dubs
A Caesarean delivery was the obvious answer, but Akila didn’t see how Queen Menwi would survive it. If the pain did not cause shock, fatal in her weakened condition, the ensuing blood loss would lead to death.
Queen Menwi grunted loudly, jerked her head forward and began to groan again. Hurrying to her, Akila placed her hands on the queen’s stomach, focused on her touch and tried to gently guide the child to a birthing position.
Across the campsite, Benia, unnerved by a night filled with the queen’s screams, gathered the reins of his horses and led them to his chariot. “I am going to look for Wah,” he called to Imhotep between Menwi’s screams.
***
Tjaneni selected a second papyrus.
The southern wing of this army of his majesty was on a hill south of the brook of Kina, the northern wing was at the northwest of Megiddo, while his majesty was in their center, with Amun as the protection of his members, the valor of his limbs.
He looked up from his writing.
Cocking his head, he listened to the sound of horses breathing heavily, the splash of their nervous urine as they sensed the approaching action, the excited shouts of commanders, the soft clatter — like temple sistrums — of spear shafts against the wooden cabs of the chariots.
A low chant rose from the distance where the foot soldiers and archers formed the front line of the army. And now, as the mountain sentries waved their arms and the maryannu mounted their chariots, he heard the chant gather volume and, beyond it, mingled with the names of the gods of the Two Lands, came a foreign sound — the tramp of a thousand enemy soldiers, the muted clap of hooves on ground, and the heavy grind of chariot wheels.
The enemy charge had begun.
***
A single chariot rolled toward the northern edge of Yehem.
Benia reined his horses to a stop and, while he waited for the cloud of dust to clear, he shouted, “Wah?”
He raised a hand to wipe his eyes clear and saw that, although the approaching chariot was Egyptian, the driver was not Wah.
The driver raised a hand in welcome and Benia raised his in answer.
“Are you the escort for Queen Menwi?” the other charioteer called as his horses slowed beside Benia’s.
Benia nodded.
“I met your companion last night,” the charioteer said.
“Wah?”
“Yes, Wah.” Thanuny twisted and pointed north. “He was on the road to Taanakh.”
“Yes,” Benia said. “He was ... ”
“Searching for me,” Thanuny said. “Yes, he told me that he had seen me at the crossroads.” He smiled. “I am Thanuny, a scout for the maryannu. I was watching the southern route.”
“Where is Wah?” Benia asked.
“One of his horses stumbled on a rock. When it tripped, it tangled the harness and fell. It pulled the chariot over the same rock and it flipped. Wah was thrown to the ground and broke his leg,” Thanuny said.
“I was returning to the Aruna road when I found him. I dragged him off the road to shade trees and spent the night with him. He is in too much pain to travel, but he still has strength to draw a bow,” Thanuny said with a proud smile. “He insisted that he could watch the road while I came to find you.”
Benia nodded. “Take me to him.”
“Yes,” Thanuny agreed and touched his whip to his horses to turn them to ride beside Penhat.
As soon as his chariot moved past Benia’s view, Thanuny drew an arrow from his quiver.
***
The war chariots of the King of Kadesh rolled across the plain toward the Egyptian infantry. The rebel foot soldiers, having just arrived to take positions to the north and south of the charge, paused to catch their breath and to watch the heavy chariots tear into the Egyptian line. As soon as the proud Egyptian line shattered in fear, the rebels would rush them, attacking from both sides.
However, as the Canaanite chariots came within range, Kebu’s archers launched a volley of arrows. The flight of arrows signaled the Egyptian infantry to begin its movement. But instead of charging, the men sidestepped, the wide line dividing at the center.
Like wooden walls moved from a sluice, the maneuver created a wide opening and from it poured the two thousand chariots of the maryannu, the Fist of Amun.
Pharaoh Thutmose led the charge from its center, his electrum-coated chariot a ball of fire in the morning sun. Whip arm raised over his blue-helmeted head, he shouted his father’s name from a face filled with terrifying excitement.
As the smaller Egyptian chariots charged, Kebu’s archers fired a second volley, sending a rain of bronze-tipped death onto the Canaanite chariots, which began to fall into a ragged, gapped alignment. The archers who rode with the Egyptian charioteers began to fire as well and the Canaanites suddenly discovered that they were rushing toward a wall of bronze-tipped missiles that dug into their horses, that careened off their chariots, that hammered against their raised shields like rocks.
A river of war cries followed the arrows, washing over the Canaanites as the Egyptian foot soldiers began to race after the chariots, eager to kill and plunder.
Riding the blood lust of battle and the righteousness of his gods, Pharaoh Thutmose leaned forward, willing his army forward in a frenzied furor.
The Canaanites emerged from the wall of arrows with their horses stumbling, the charioteers wounded and disoriented, and suddenly the Egyptian chariots were upon them, flying through their ranks.
The Egyptian archers, holding shields in one arm as the chariots passed each other, threw short spears at the enemy while the chariot drivers lashed their whips sideways at the enemy horses and drivers.
Knifing through the heavier Canaanite chariots, the maryannu quickly wheeled to attack the slower enemy from the rear. As their lighter, smaller chariots wheeled around, the Egyptian archers began to launch their arrows at the exposed backs of the enemy charioteers.
With their attention focused on turning to attack the Egyptian chariots that were now behind them, the Canaanites were suddenly swarmed by the Egyptian infantry that emerged from the dust cloud that the Egyptian chariots had dragged behind them.
Shouts and screams joined the sound of clubs on flesh and the terrified whinnies of wounded horses trying to break free of their harnesses.
The melee quickly turned into a massacre, and the disorganized Canaanites whipped their horses and began to race toward the safety of Megiddo. Charioteers whose horses had fallen leaped from their chariots and began to run toward the fortress, dropping their weapons and stripping off their armor to lighten their steps.
Suddenly, the maryannu had no one to fight.
With a shout, Pharaoh Thutmose pointed at the fleeing Canaanites and drove his chariot after them.
***
Akila shook her head as Queen Menwi’s scream lapsed into a thin wail and the girl’s head fell back into unconsciousness.
“I don’t know what to do, Tim,” she said in English, her eyes watering as she fought tears. She wiped her eyes with the underside of her forearm and looked down at Queen Menwi. “She can’t continue much longer.”
She knelt by Queen Menwi and wiped her face. Gently Akila lifted one of Queen Menwi’s eyelids and sighed; a spider web of burst blood vessels covered the white of her eye.
Leaning on his walking staff, Imhotep saw Akila’s expression.
“You’ll have to take the child,” he said.
“It will kill her. I won’t be able to stop her bleeding.”
“She will die if you don’t.”
“I can’t kill the mother.”
“Akila, if you don’t, the child will die and Menwi will die anyhow, but after enduring more and more agony,” he argued.
He turned away to go walk to their chariot.
“There must be something in your bag that we can give her to knock her out, then ... ” He stopped speaking as a chariot rolled into their camp.
Surprised to see Benia returning so quickly, Imhotep turned toward the chari
ot. “Did you find Wah?” he asked before he saw that the driver was not Benia.
“Yes, Lord Imhotep. I saw Benia and Wah. They won’t be returning.”
“What do you mean?” Imhotep asked, staring at the charioteer. “Who are you?”
“You don’t recognize me, Lord Imhotep?” the charioteer asked as he stepped down. “You don’t remember me from the Temple of Amun when you attacked me? Or from the roof of the palace the night you killed my friend Pawura? Or in the courtyard of the Temple of Ptah?
“No, you don’t. I am no one to you, am I? I am no more than an annoying insect to be crushed.”
The charioteer pulled his khopesh sword from his waistband and, gripping the angled sword with both hands, he approached Imhotep with a slight limp.
The uneven gait called Imhotep’s attention to Thanuny’s feet. He saw one sandal was covered with a wide strap hiding the toes. He squinted in confusion.
“You still don’t know me,” Thanuny said stepping closer.
Imhotep stepped back. “Akila,” he shouted in English, “get to the chariot!”
Thanuny kicked off his sandal exposing his foot and the space where three toes were missing. “You did this, Lord Imhotep,” he said and spit on the ground.
“No,” Imhotep said.
“Yes,” Thanuny said, stepping closer.
“You destroyed my foot. You destroyed my life and it meant nothing to you. You are above the law. You think you are a god,” he said, spitting on the ground. Looking past Imhotep to Queen Menwi, he said, “And your grandson does the same. He takes the queen like a tavern whore and still leads the maryannu.”
He raised his sword.
Changing the grip on his heavy staff, Imhotep retreated from the blade. He raised the heavy staff overhead as he continued to step back from Thanuny and the gleaming sword. Then he heard Akila’s footsteps behind him. Quickly he began to swing the staff. Akila, beside him now, shouted at Thanuny. The charioteer’s eyes darted toward her as Imhotep’s staff struck his shoulder.
The blow knocked Thanuny sideways, but not down.
Akila rushed toward him, her fists clutching handfuls of dirt. As she flung the dirt at him, Thanuny swung his sword at her with one hand. Her momentum brought her inside the arc of his blade, but the heavy handle of the sword and his tight fist caught the side of her head.
She fell limply to the ground.
Screaming, Imhotep swung his walking staff again, striking Thanuny’s turned back. The charioteer fell to his knees and then, rolling toward Imhotep, he swiped his blade at the back of Imhotep’s legs.
The blade cut deeply into Imhotep’s thigh.
As blood gushed from the wound, Imhotep collapsed against his walking staff. He heard a loud snap, felt his weight sway into the air and he fell to the ground.
***
Tjaneni’s heart soared as he watched the routed Canaanite army run pell mell toward the fortress. To his amazement, the heavy doors of the walled city swung shut leaving the King of Kadesh and his forces exposed to the fist of Amun.
He caught his breath, inked another reed and bent over his papyrus.
Then his majesty prevailed against them at the head of his army, and when they saw his majesty prevailing against them they fled headlong to Megiddo in fear, abandoning their horses, and their chariots of gold and silver.
He looked back to the battlefield. The enemy soldiers were crawling up the sides of the walls, clinging to white ropes.
The people hauled them up, pulling them by their clothing, into this city; the people of this city having closed it against them and lowered clothing to pull them up into this city.
He shook his head. The rout was complete. The enemy princes and their men were waiting for death beneath the walls of Megiddo, fighting each other for the linen lifelines hanging from the city.
Leaning forward, Tjaneni waited for the Egyptian chariots to charge them, for the archers to fill their bodies with arrows, for the infantrymen to stab and club them. But the Egyptian army had turned into a mob.
Lured by the horses, chariots, and weapons left behind by the routed army and by the gold, silver, and gems clinging to the arms and necks of the dead or dying soldiers, the Egyptian army had turned to plundering.
Clots of soldiers moved from overturned chariot to fallen soldier, stripping them bare, even, Tjaneni saw in dismay, fighting each other over the plunder. He saw Pharaoh Thutmose still in his chariot, weaving among the men shouting at them, but the words were too distant for Tjaneni to capture and record.
He laid his reed on his lapboard and stared at the plain.
A chariot cut through the battlefield toward the electrum chariot of Pharaoh Thutmose.
He saw Pharaoh Thutmose look up. His whip arm raised, Pharaoh Thutmose motioned toward Megiddo. The lone chariot veered north toward the walled fortress.
***
Landing heavily on his chest, Thanuny felt Geb drive the air from his lungs. Nut lowered her veil of darkness over him and the million stars of night floated before his closed eyes.
Then, as he gasped for air he heard a scream.
Gathering his hands beneath his chest, he pushed himself back into the world. Akila’s unmoving body lay in the dirt where she had fallen. Imhotep lay on his side, a puddle of blood spreading beneath his right leg. His magical staff lay beside him, the shaft broken into two jagged pieces.
Another scream.
Thanuny turned his head and saw Queen Menwi, sitting beneath a palm tree, her back arched as she screamed. Her bare chest covered in sweat.
Glancing at Imhotep, crippled and bleeding, Thanuny pushed himself to his feet and staggered toward the queen.
***
“Stop them, capture the King of Kadesh!” Pharaoh Thutmose shouted at Neferhotep above the cries of the wounded, the shouts of the victorious soldiers, and the frightened neighing of horses on the plains of Megiddo.
Neferhotep turned his chariot toward the city, where enemy soldiers swarmed over the stone walls, crawling up ropes made of clothing tied together. Weaving among abandoned chariots surrounded by Egyptian soldiers, he shouted at the men to put aside the plunder until the enemy was defeated.
Most of the men simply ignored him, some shouted back at him, telling him that he had a chariot and fine clothes and this was their chance to get the same. He thought to direct his horse at the plundering Egyptians, but the enemy soldiers were crawling and climbing away from the field dragging the victory of the Two Lands with them.
He scanned the walls for chariots, searching for the most ornate, which would be carrying the King of Kadesh. Off to the left of the closed gates he saw a cluster of chariots, arrayed to provide cover for each other as heavily armored soldiers scaled the wall.
He slapped the reins and urged his horses forward.
Behind him Pharaoh Thutmose continued to move from group to group trying to rally his plunder-crazed army. The archers, who had trailed the chariots, and the foot soldiers arrived on the field now eager to get their share of the treasures before the charioteers took all.
Kebu saw Pharaoh Thutmose haranguing the troops and beyond him he saw a solitary chariot picking its way toward the remnants of the army of the King of Kadesh. An empty chariot stood beside Kebu, the driver bent over a dead Canaanite, stripping the man of his armor.
Stepping into the chariot, Kebu gathered the reins and urged the horses toward the wall of Megiddo and the grandson of the man who had saved him from the spiders of Neith.
***
Menwi woke as a heavy hand slapped her face.
“Turn over,” the strange man said. “Get on your hands and knees, Queen Menwi.”
She looked at him confused. He slapped her again. “Do you even speak our language, whore of Canaan?” he said.
She fell onto her side and saw Akila lying on the ground in the distance. Closer she saw another form, the god Imhotep who was tearing at his shendyt while a lake of blood pooled around him.
His hands shaking, I
mhotep stripped off his shendyt and looped it around his bleeding thigh. Judging by the flow of blood, he was sure that Thanuny had cut into his femoral vein.
Faster! He told his shaking hands.
Ignoring the fear he felt as he saw his blood soak onto the sand, he forced his hands to work together, bringing one end of the tie over the other, bringing the other end over the first. He remembered his mother tying his shoes when he was a child, teaching him a rhyme. The words floated past his consciousness and disappeared.
Straining and shaking, he drew the knot tight and looked about for his staff. Stretching, he pulled his staff to him, felt that it was lighter and studied it for a moment.
It was broken.
He laid the staff on the overhand knot, wrapped the linen around the wood to form a second knot and began to twist the wood. The pain of the tightening tourniquet brought tears to his eyes and he felt his vision begin to tunnel.
He grabbed the other half of his broken staff and turned as he heard a cry.
Thanuny was squatting beside Menwi, his sword on the ground beside him.
Trying to pull his legs under himself, Imhotep found that his wounded right leg would not respond. He gritted his teeth and began to drag himself across the ground toward Thanuny and the queen.
As he crawled he remembered Brian crawling across the wadi so many years ago, his stomach ripped open by Siamun.
Brian died, Imhotep remembered, and the memory suddenly seemed more real than the dirt beneath his own, slow-moving body. The narrow wadi, the stench of Djefi’s breath, the closeness of the tomb, his growing anxiety as he failed to find the false doorway that would lead back to the modern world.
Another scream, this one weak and resigned. He heard Thanuny speak, “Whore of Canaan.”
Imhotep was close enough now that he could hear Menwi’s hurried breathing. “I can’t turn over. I can’t ... ” she said, her voice a thin scream.
