by Overton, Max
A contingent of priests were on hand, ostensibly to escort the dead king's coffin to the temple of Amun, but the priests of other gods were present too, not least of all Teti, now shaved and washed and dressed in the regalia of a minor priest of Heru, Horemheb's titular deity. He clutched a scroll and appeared nervous, but none remarked on it as tensions were high throughout the city. A crowd of citizens was kept well back from the docks by the men of Userhet's Medjay police.
Lord Nebamen appeared, carried in a litter, and with him Lord Raweret and Lord Sephotep. Meryamun greeted them casually and stood waiting with them for the first sign of the barge.
"Is all in readiness?" Nebamen asked. He chewed on his fingernails and he looked tired, as if he had not slept well. "It is not too late to pull back and...and wait for a more opportune time."
"Now is the only time," Meryamun replied. "Another three days and Horemheb will be king. You cannot possibly succeed if you have to rebel." He looked sharply at the older man. "I have prepared everything, my lord. Do not hesitate or I will find another more willing." He glanced across at Raweret.
"Where is the killer?" Sephotep asked. "I cannot see anyone who looks like him."
"Perhaps that is just as well, otherwise Horemheb might be forewarned. He is here and understands what he must do. Make sure you perform your parts."
"Er, what was I to do?" Raweret asked.
Meryamun rolled his eyes. "When Horemheb falls, Psenamy will order his troops to kill the assassin. I have no doubt Lady Beketaten is on board, so Lord Nebamen will escort her to the palace, offering her the protection of his retainers; Lord Raweret will transport the body of Ay to the Amun temple; and Lord Sephotep will take the body of Horemheb to the House of the Dead."
"And what will you do?"
"Horemheb will not be travelling alone, though he will not have many men with him. I will intercept them and make sure they do not interfere with our plans."
"You have done very well, Lord Meryamun," Nebamen said. "When I am king, you may be sure..."
"They're here!" A cry from a rooftop interrupted him. Citizens surged forward to catch a glimpse of the golden barge and the Medjay beat them back with staves. The group of lords fell silent and watched as the great barge threshed its way toward the docks.
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Chapter Eighteen
Lord Horemheb stood in the bows of the barge as it nosed its way slowly into the still water between the royal docks in Waset. He was conscious of the amused looks from the small contingent of soldiers accompanying him but paid no attention. His life had been full of dangers and opportunities and the arrival in Waset to bury the old king and become king in his place, filled him with elation.
He looked toward the crowd of people on the dock, seeking out his friend and acting Tjaty, Paramessu, but could not see him. There were a lot of people he did not recognise, priests and nobles, and a few hundred legionnaires. He stiffened when he saw the banners of the Amun legion and the personal one of General Psenamy.
"What is Paramessu playing at?" Horemheb growled to anyone in earshot. "I told him to disband the legion and dismiss that old fool of a general."
"Perhaps he has not arrived in Waset yet," a young lieutenant volunteered.
"Then we are in a mess of trouble. Neferikare?" the officer in question came up beside his commander to hear his orders. "Get every man under arms that you can. Take some of the likelier looking sailors too. Quickly but quietly, Neferikare. We do not want to provoke them."
Horemheb gestured to the captain of the vessel. "Ipy, be so good as to hold your men ready to leave on an instant. I do not like the look of this mob waiting for us." The man saluted and hurried off.
"Seneb, ask the Lady Khepra to attend on me." The young lieutenant walked away quickly and returned a few moments later with Scarab and Khu. "Lady Khepra," he said without preamble. "I believe there may be fighting in a few minutes. Please get below decks where it will be safe."
Scarab stared across the slowly narrowing gap of water between the barge and the dock. "You are badly outnumbered, Lord Horemheb. Perhaps I should stay and add my skills."
Horemheb turned and looked keenly at the woman beside him. "You would fight for me? I thought you hated me."
"Let us just say I hate Ay's followers more."
"Even so, you should retire below decks."
"I think I will stay. I need the exercise." Scarab turned away and started adjusting her robes, tightening them in places and loosening in others to give her freedom of movement.
"Is this wise?" Khu whispered.
Scarab smiled. "You should know me by now, Khu. However, you are a physician now, not a fighting man..."
"No." Khu grinned. "You know me."
The barge closed with the dock. Naked sailors leapt ashore with heavy flax ropes and hauled the craft alongside, tying it off to timber bollards. A gangplank was moved into place and the dignitaries on the dock readied themselves. Horemheb made no move to join them.
Neferikare joined him and spoke quietly. "Thirty-seven men under arms, sir, including officers. Another twenty sailors, though I cannot answer for their ability."
"If fighting starts, have a trusted man stick close to Lady Khepra. You are responsible for her survival."
"If she was to go below decks..."
"You won't persuade her. She wants to fight." Horemheb glanced at the young officer. "Do not look so startled. She has ability."
Neferikare looked toward the assemblage on the dock. "What now, sir? If the Sobek legion is not here, perhaps we should stand off until they arrive."
"What sort of a figure would I cut? The next King of Kemet routed by a gang of priests and second-rate soldiers? I'd never hear the last of it. No, we go ashore. Have the men form an honour guard and arrange it that when I face the Hem-Netjer of Amun, the men are between me and the Amun soldiers. That is the danger, and once I have dealt with the formalities we shall try and neutralise the threat."
Horemheb turned and sauntered toward the gangplank, giving Neferikare plenty of time to call his men into columns, their spears held vertically as their general passed between them. He paused on the dock and stared coolly at the priests and nobles before advancing slowly. He halted in front of the Hem-Netjer of Amun and inclined his head in respect.
"Greetings, Hem-Netjer of Amun, First Prophet of the god of the royal family. I bring the prepared body of King Irimaat Ay back to the City of Amun for burial."
"Lord Horemheb, you perform a great service for the royal family. Who is it that opens the mouth of the king?"
"I do."
"You, Lord Horemheb? But you were not..."
Horemheb lowered his voice and held the gaze of the sweating priest of Amun. "I know you, Bakt. You were close to Ay and in his confidences. However, Ay has gone to the West and a new king will soon sit on the throne of Kemet. You must ask yourself if you want to prosper under this new king."
"I am Hem-Netjer of Amun. I will not be threatened."
"Very true, Bakt, and if the king resides in Waset, the Great Temple here will prosper. But ask yourself what wealth will flow into the temple coffers if the seat of government is in Ineb Hedj."
"The king should remain in Waset," Bakt said after a moment.
"I can be a good friend, Bakt, and a bad enemy. I am willing to overlook your friendship with Ay, but I want something in return."
"What?"
"Neutrality. Do not take sides. Keep the power of Amun behind the royal family."
"But you are not of Nebmaetre's blood. There are two here who are. What if they ask me for support?"
"Two? Perfect. You are weighing up the conflicting claims. In three days it will not matter." Horemheb's eyes flicked sideways. "Do you see the woman in robes? She is Princess Beketaten, true-born daughter of Nebmaetre and his Queen Tiye. Her claim is better than any here. She and I will be married."
Bakt inclined his head. "Amun will remain aloof."
"Thank
you. Now, who are these others?"
"The High Priests of other gods," Bakt said dismissively. "Lesser priests...some nobility...including the two claimants...and the Amun legion." The priest smiled coldly. "I hope you have brought plenty of men with you, Lord Horemheb."
"I have Paramessu and the Sobek legion."
"Ah, you have not heard? They left the city two days ago in response to reports of southern rebels."
Horemheb fought to remain calm, aware that many eyes were watching him. "Perhaps you would supervise the removal of the royal coffin from the barge?" He offered a respectful nod of his head and turned back to his deputy, Neferikare. "Time for Psenamy, I think." He walked forward, past the ranks of priests.
A priest of Heru stepped out in front of Horemheb and the General stopped in surprise. "My lord Horemheb," said the priest. "I have something for you."
Horemheb saw the man carried a scroll and held out his hand for it. "What is it?"
"This!" screamed the priest. He threw the scroll aside and lunged forward with a thin blade.
Horemheb stepped back, his left arm coming forward defensively, and the tip of the dagger scored a line on the underside of his arm. Before his attacker could regain his balance, he brought his right fist around and landed a solid blow on the man's shoulder.
The priest staggered, but recovered quickly and ran at Horemheb, blade held high. A spear stabbed past Horemheb and pierced the priest's chest. The man's eyes bulged and he fell, dragging the spear point out as he collapsed. The dagger clattered to the dock.
Horemheb knelt quickly by the man's side and looked into eyes that were already wandering. "Who put you up to this?" he demanded.
Blood bubbled weakly from the man's mouth as he tried to say something, but death stilled the words in his throat.
Horemheb stood again and stared at the priests and nobles. Most showed varying degrees of shock and horror at the violence visited upon them, but one group of men did not. There was no surprise on the faces of four members of Waset's nobility.
"Mark those men, Neferikare. I want to know who they are."
"Shall I arrest them sir?"
"Later." Horemheb tore a strip from the linen robe of the dead priest of Heru and bound his arm. Then with a nod to Neferikare, he walked toward the Amun legion.
Psenamy watched Horemheb coming and quailed, despite the armed men at his back. He glanced around, looking for the reassuring bulk of his Troop Commander Padiamun, and then for Lord Meryamun. The noble stared back impassively, not giving the General any indication of what he should do.
Horemheb stopped right in front of Psenamy, crowding him and forcing the old man to take a step back. He said nothing, just staring into Psenamy's eyes.
The silence drew out, and the men became restless. Padiamun fidgeted and edged closer to his General, his motion matched by Neferikare. Behind the small unit of soldiers from the barge, Scarab and Khu moved up, accompanied by an increasingly uncomfortable looking soldier detailed to guard them.
Psenamy caved in. "Greetings, Lord Horemheb," he quavered. "What are your intentions in Waset?"
"Why have you brought so many men, Psenamy? This is far more than an honour guard."
The old general shot another glance at Meryamun, and licked his lips nervously when he got no encouragement. "It seemed the right thing to do."
"It seemed the right thing to do...what?"
Psenamy flushed. "Lord Horemheb," he muttered.
Horemheb gave him another few minutes of silence and then stepped past him, walking slowly down the front rank of the Amun legion with his hands clasped casually behind his back. He stopped once or twice to adjust the angle of the spears or make a quiet comment to a soldier, before coming back to the front of the Troop.
"Who am I?" Horemheb rapped out. Nobody said anything, and he repeated the question, pointing at one of the soldiers.
"L...Lord Horemheb, sir."
"What is my rank? You." He pointed at another man.
"General, sir."
"General of what, soldier?"
"G...General of the Armies, sir."
"That is right. I am General of All the Armies of Kemet. What is your name, soldier?"
"Bebi, sir."
"Am I your General, Bebi?"
"Yes, sir."
"Am I the General of your Leader of Ten? Of your Leader of a Hundred?"
"Yes, sir."
"Of your Troop Commander?"
"Yes, sir."
Horemheb ran his gaze over the men in front of him and recognised the insignia of a Troop Commander on a hulking brute of a man. He walked across and asked, "Your name and rank?"
"Padiamun, Troop Commander...sir."
"You know who I am, Padiamun?"
Padiamun nodded. "Gen'ral 'Orem'eb."
"That is right. General of all the Armies, Lord Horemheb. Are you loyal to Kemet, Troop Commander Padiamun?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then bring these men to attention, turn them around, and march them back to barracks."
Padiamun looked at Psenamy for confirmation, but the old general was looking at the nobles. Meryamun remained impassive, so Psenamy shrugged and Padiamun merely scowled. "Yes, sir."
The Troop Commander turned and barked orders at the men behind him. They obeyed slowly, grumbling all the while, but eventually moved off in the direction of the city.
"Neferikare, detail two men to escort General Psenamy to his home and make sure he does not leave," Horemheb said. "Then bring that nobleman there..." he pointed, unmindful of how rude the gesture seemed. "...to me. We will see how far the rot has spread."
While this had been unfolding on the dock, the priests of Amun had taken possession of the gilded casket of Irimaat Ay and were bringing it carefully ashore. In three days time it would be buried in a hastily constructed tomb in the Great Valley, but until then the dead king would sojourn with the god in his temple.
Neferikare brought Meryamun to Horemheb. The other nobles departed as quickly as they could, evidently not wishing to be associated with the failed attempt on the General's life.
Horemheb sized up the younger man. "You are?"
"Lord Meryamun, General Horemheb. May I welcome you to Waset?"
"I have seen the welcome Waset holds for me."
"Do not judge us all so harshly, I beg. There are many here who would welcome you and your rule."
"And many who would not. Which are you, Lord Meryamun?"
"Oh, most assuredly I welcome you here, General."
"Then why was Psenamy always looking to you for guidance?"
Meryamun laughed delicately. "He is a senile fool. No doubt he sought to bolster his confidence by gauging the mood of the nobles gathered here today."
"Where have your fellow nobles gone?"
"Alas, while I share nobility of blood with them, they do not take me into their confidences."
"Who were they?"
"Lords Nebamen, Raweret, and Sephotep."
Horemheb turned and pointed to the dead priest of Heru, now covered with a linen sheet and guarded by one of his soldiers. "Did you know him?"
"I do not frequent the temple of Heru, General."
"So you had never seen him before?"
"Who can say with certainty that I had not seen him in the street somewhere?"
"Are you telling me the truth, Lord Meryamun?"
The noble drew himself up and raised his head defiantly. "I do not know how it is in the army, General, but I do not lie."
"I have a way of finding out, you know. You see the woman a few paces behind me. She is a desert witch called Scarab and can do things that would make your hair stand on end. Shall I have her test you?"
Meryamun shrugged and looked away.
"Scarab, would you come here please?" Horemheb asked. "This man is Lord Meryamun, and he says he did not know the would-be assassin. What do you think?"
Scarab walked up to Horemheb's side and looked at the noble impassively. "Everybody lies when it suits th
em," she said. "Lord Meryamun, look at me please."
With evident reluctance, Meryamun did so.
"This man has secrets, as do we all. Take my hand, Lord Meryamun."
The man hesitated and then reached out a hand and clasped Scarab's. She tossed the hair back from her face, revealing her closed right eye. Smiling, she opened it and the smooth golden orb glinted in the sun. Meryamun gasped and made as if to draw back but Scarab held him firmly.
"The god Geb gave me this eye, Lord Meryamun. With it, I can see into the heart of a man and read his secrets. What will your heart tell me, Lord Meryamun?"
Meryamun shook his head. "Nothing, nothing," he muttered. He looked everywhere except at the gleaming eye.
"Ask him a question, Lord Horemheb."
"Did you know the priest of Heru?"
"No...yes...I mean, I have seen him before."
"In what context?"
"He...he was in a...cell. Beneath the Hall of Justice. But that man was dirty and unshaved, not in priestly garb."
"Interesting," Scarab said. "Lord Meryamun speaks both lies and the truth. He knows the man and he saw him in the cells, but there are layers that would be worth exploring, Lord Horemheb. I am sure you have more expert questioners than me." She released the man's hand and he snatched it back, wiping the palm on his robe.
"Neferikare, convey Lord Meryamun with the greatest courtesy to the palace and ensure that he is housed in a room that can be easily secured. I would not want anything to happen to him before we have had a chance to discuss this further."
Scarab stepped back and watched as Meryamun was hustled away protesting his innocence. She and Khu followed Horemheb and the rest of his small band of soldiers up to the palace. The crowds gathered to see the arrival of the barge parted before them, and followed, for the most part in silence, but some called out in a friendly fashion.
Khu looked puzzled. "How did you do that?" he asked. "I thought all your powers had left you."
"They have," Scarab confirmed quietly. "That was just playing on the man's fears. We all have secrets, Khu, but mostly they are fairly innocent. When I grasped his hand I could feel his fear and he became nervous at Horemheb's questions. Have you never noticed that a man's hands sweat when he is nervous? That dead priest made Meryamun nervous. Now it is up to Horemheb to find out why."
