by Overton, Max
"Remove your sandals, for you are in a holy place."
Yahmose knelt and followed his god's instructions. He stood again and brushed his robes down. Tiny blue flames crackled at his fingertips and he felt the power of the god come over him. A sharp crack split the air as if two mighty hands had gripped the world and snapped it apart over some gigantic knee. Yahmose was thrown backward, landing hard on the ground. A blinding light filled the bowl and as he groaned and lifted himself on one elbow, he saw the lifeless bush blazing, alive with a thousand tiny leaves of blue flame. The sight was too much for him and he fell back, trembling.
He felt as if he stood outside his body, looking down on a wildly staring man. Everything was silent in the stone bowl--there was not even the crackle of flames from the burning bush. He turned and saw that a lambent glow surrounded the bush in the place of the flames and drew back quickly, his fingers flying to his eyes. I can see! What has happened to me ?
"I am the Lord your God, Yahmose." The voice came from the glow and the light pulsed in time with the words. A sharp, stinging odour filled the air.
I am your servant, Great Yah. Command me . Yahmose thought he spoke aloud but he heard no sound in the air or in his head.
"Free my people."
Yes, Great Yah...who are your people ?
"Habiru."
The Khabiru? But they are not enslaved, Great Yah. They are a free people near Zarw in the land of Kemet .
"Free my people."
I...I do not understand, Great Yah .
"Return to my people and your people. Free them from their servitude."
The voice withdrew, not fading, but moving away and Yahmose had a vision of infinite spaces blazing with a million fires. The glow died away and his vision dimmed with it. His head whirled and he opened his eyes, staring up at a blue sky. He groaned and sat up slowly, his cramped muscles screaming with agony. His head ached, his eyes burned and itched, and his lungs felt full. He coughed and almost spat before he recollected where he was.
"Great Yah," he croaked.
There was only silence. The dead bush was gone, leaving not even ashes. Slowly, Yahmose got to his feet and retrieved his staff and sandals. He looked around and then slowly clambered up the stone bowl and out onto the mountainside. It was only when he got there and he saw the vista of desert valleys and mountains stretching out into the dust-hazed distance that he realised he could see once more. He shouted aloud for joy, his voice thin and weak under the huge inverted bowl of the sky.
"Thank you, Yah. Let all creation shout your praises and let every knee bend before the Lord God."
Yahmose did not know where he was but he could see the sea as a distant strip of silver to the west. He climbed slowly down into the valley and set off along the dry watercourse that led in the general direction of Serabit. As he walked he rejoiced that vision had returned to him, and though his head ached and his limbs protested with every step, still he reckoned it a price worth paying.
"Everything is so beautiful," he mused. "The sun-baked rock, the dry sand, the sere grasses--the lizard and scorpion and hawk so high in the sky it must surely talk to the sun." Yahmose squinted at the pale orb hanging above him and wondered how he could ever have thought that disc was a god. "A manifestation of the deity, perhaps, but even the sun pales beside the power of Yah."
He climbed a ridge, always moving westward, and found the goat track where he had fallen. The track led down to the mines and the quarries where guards stood on watch as before. This time, though, he did not approach with a shuffle but strode down to them and called out a greeting as he came near.
"May the blessings of Yah be upon you all. Do you have water for a thirsty traveller?"
He was met with a challenge because the guards did not recognise him. He was as unkempt as ever, and thinner, but his demeanour spoke of confidence and the guards were cautious.
"Who is you, stranger, and what's is your purpose 'ere in Serabit?"
"I am Yahmose, for I have been sent by Yah to bring his people to freedom."
"His people? I hopes you don' mean the slaves, else we'll have summat to say 'baht that."
"God's people are the Khabiru, not lowly Kemetu slaves."
"I recognise you," said another guard. "You went up into the wilderness months ago. I thought you must be dead." He handed the robed man a cup of warm water.
"And I recognise you, Paner, by your voice." Yahmose drank thirstily, draining the cup. "My thanks. Did Yah bless you?"
Paner grinned. "He did. My wife is with child."
"The Lord God is good."
"Give me another blessing," Paner pleaded.
"And us," said the other guards.
"Then let it be so," Yahmose cried. "O Great Yah, pour forth your bounty on these good men, let them reap the harvest of your blessing." He turned and strode away down the road to the town, his heart glad that even Kemetu guards were open to the peaceful ways of Yah. Other guards accosted him on the long road, but none recognised him, and he came at last to Serabit.
Yahmose had to ask directions to the house of the beautiful woman. He called her Nefertiti, but no-one recognised that name or his description and he had forgotten to ask her the name she went by in Serabit. Someone knew the name of Merye though and he found the right street at last and the house. A woman sat alone in front of the doorway, scrubbing at a pile of garments, looking up as a shadow fell across her.
"Father? Is that you? I felt sure you were dead."
"The Lord God kept me alive in the wilderness." Yahmose looked around. "Where is my beloved Nefertiti?"
"You...you can see? How is this possible?"
"The Lord God restored my sight that I might carry out his Works. Where is your mother? I must give her the glad news that her exile is over."
"Oh, father, she...over? How? What do you mean?"
"Yah has told me that I am to free his people, the Khabiru. She has Khabiru blood through her father Ay, so that must mean she is to be set free too. Let us bring her the good news together, daughter."
"She is dying."
"No! Why would you say that? She cannot be, for I come to free her. Take me to her."
Merye led her father into the house. In the dim interior, lit only by a single oil lamp, Nefertiti, once the most beautiful woman in the world, lay like a shrunken husk on a straw pallet. The old woman was asleep, her mouth open, and her laboured breath rattled in her throat. Yahmose knelt beside her and took her gnarled hand in his.
"Wake up, Nefertiti. Wake up, most beautiful woman. A new day is here, and I bear great news."
Nefertiti groaned softly and her eyes opened. "Have I passed beyond? Are these the Halls of the Dead?"
"No, my love. Life is yet within you and soon you will be dancing and singing in the joy of freedom. The Lord God has said..."
"Oh, Yahmose, not that again..." Nefertiti's eyes closed. "I do not have the strength to fight you...any longer."
"Then do not fight me, dear one. Join me and we shall reclaim our lives. Yah has said it, so it must be true."
Nefertiti sighed. "You go. It is too late for me."
"Never. I want you by my side. I need you by my side, as before."
The old woman opened her eyes and looked at her former husband. "Waenre, it is too late. S...something inside me broke...and...and now my life...slips from me like...like water from a cr...cracked pot."
"Do not say that. Yah will not allow you to die. I will pray...O Great Yah, hear my plea, I beg you. Let not..."
"Hush, Waenre. I am dying. I prayed that...that...I would last...un...until you came. My prayer was...was answered."
"Do not leave me, beautiful one."
"The gods decide all things, Waenre. Carry...me into the light, husband. I...desire to see the sun's face one last time."
Yahmose lifted the frail husk that had been his wife Nefertiti, the most beautiful woman on earth, and carried her outside into the sunlight. The old woman turned her head and stared into the sun.
Her lips formed a single word, "Aten," before her head lolled back in Yahmose's arms. He laid her gently to the ground and stood over her, while Merye wept.
"Not 'Aten' but 'Adon', beautiful one," he said. "Go to your Aten, and may the Lord God Yah, keep you in green, watered fields."
Merye wailed her loss and other women came from neighbouring houses to comfort her. They helped her wash and arrange the limbs of the dead woman and bound her in reed matting for burial.
"There is no preparation for such as ourselves," a woman told Merye. "A shallow grave in the desert sand is all we can give her."
"I will bury her," Yahmose said. "I know of a cave that faces east. Every morning the face of her god will greet her and she will know happiness." He picked up the body of his wife and, followed by Merye, left Serabit once more.
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Chapter Twenty-Three
King Horemheb arrived in Ineb Hedj only eight days after leaving Waset. He brought with him no more than a dozen men and two sailors died of exhaustion from the frenetic pace he set. They did not stop even at night but forged on downriver, archers in the bow even clearing the way when the boat was challenged by a bull hippopotamus near the reed beds opposite the tomb of Djoser. The king's arrival took the city by surprise, and the first most people knew of it was the sight of him and his men running up the streets to the palace.
The palace was soon in an uproar, with messengers being sent out to all the governors of nearby sepats, ordering them to raise men and have them ready on the planned route of the king's march from Ineb Hedj to Iunu. Beyond that city, Horemheb knew he would have to rely on the remnants of the northern army.
"If any survive," he roared at Neferikare, who had accompanied him from Waset. "That god-cursed Djedhor has thrown away Kemet's main defence."
"Per-Aa...Great House," Neferikare dared to say, "We do not know that for certain. Djedhor is a good general. He may well..."
"I know that. How many men have you found in Ineb Hedj?"
"A hundred and thirty fighting men, Per-Aa. Another three hundred who can bear arms."
"Is that all? Very well, put a competent officer in charge of the raw recruits and have them follow on. I will take the fighting men and press on. We leave today."
Boats ferried Horemheb and his small fighting force across the river, and the king himself led the men at a fast march along the eastern branch of the river toward Iunu. As they marched, other groups joined them, some experienced, others made up of conscripts more used to a hoe than a spear. The best of them joined the vanguard and the others were left to follow. Horemheb reached Iunu with six hundred men.
Here, riders from the north intercepted him and brought the first real information from the northern army. Djedhor had fallen back toward Zarw and regrouped. He had with him two thousand men still, mostly from the Heru legion, with parts of the Re and Shu legions. The military commander of Zarw had contributed four hundred of his garrison, leaving the city essentially unprotected.
"Makes sense," Horemheb muttered when he read that part. "If the army fails to stop the enemy, four hundred could not protect the city."
He and his small army marched on to Zarw, where he received news of the Amorite army moving south from the line of forts. Horemheb had the elders of the Khabiru tent community brought before him and demanded they supply men for his army.
"I want five hundred men from you."
"Regretfully, O King, we cannot do this. First, we have no men trained to arms, and second, we cannot command men to risk their lives in battle for foreign gods."
"You refuse me?" Horemheb asked, his eyebrows rising in amazement. "You accept the good things Kemet provides, but you will not aid me when I ask?"
"The Lord God provides every good thing, O King, and we pay our taxes on time and willingly. You cannot ask more of us."
"Ah, but I do," Horemheb replied, unsmiling. "Go back to your tents and your women, men of Khabiru. This is twice now you have refused me. I will not ask a third time."
The Khabiru elders left, pleased with themselves that they had kept their men from service in a war, but Horemheb had their answers written down by a scribe and put the documents into safe-keeping.
"I will deal with you when I return to Zarw," he promised.
A messenger came in with a message from Djedhor that said he was moving north to intercept Jebu's army, and Horemheb cursed and sent an immediate command that he was to fall back again and await his king's arrival. Horemheb marched his six hundred men out of Zarw within the hour and a day later, found Djedhor's remnants.
The men of the shattered legions cheered as Horemheb led his small force into the camp and up to the waiting general. Djedhor immediately fell to his knees with his arms outspread, and the legion commanders--Seqepenre of Heru, Mose of Re, Ptahwere of Shu--made obeisance behind him. The cheering of the legions died away as the anger of the king became apparent.
"By the gods," Horemheb snarled. "I should have the four of you flayed alive for endangering Kemet."
"Great King, let it be as you say for me," Djedhor said. "But spare my commanders for they merely followed orders."
Horemheb said nothing, letting the silence draw out. Then the king nodded. "Get up," he said. "I will hear what you did before I pass judgment."
Neferikare hurried to secure the general's tent and fill it and the surrounds with his own men. Horemheb entered and sat down, leaving the General and commanders standing in front of him. Djedhor's aide, Seti son of Paramessu, joined them but the king gave him no sign of recognition.
"Very well, General Djedhor, you may speak. Tell me how you destroyed my legions."
"Per-Aa, it started with an attack on the Fort of Gulls to wrest it from the Amorites. We were on the verge of victory when the Amorite army fell on our rear and...and routed us. We pulled back and regrouped, debating strategy, and devised a plan whereby we could draw the Amorite army into a trap. I left a token force in the next fort, the Foxes, and also the Owls, hoping to encourage the enemy to attack and take such easy targets. Then..."
"You did what?" Horemheb glared at the General. "You deliberately lost those forts to encourage the Amorites? Do you think the enemy needs encouragement, or have you sold your country for gold?"
"Per-Aa, no. How can you think I would betray...?"
"The facts speak for themselves. Either you are criminally incompetent or you are a traitor. Which do you claim?"
"My lord king, may I speak?" Seti stepped forward, his youthful face pale and strained. When Horemheb nodded, he went on. "The plan was mine, sire, I devised it and persuaded General Djedhor that it would work. The blame for its failure is therefore mine too."
"This just tells me Djedhor is doubly culpable. No commander with a qedet of sense would listen to an untried boy, let alone adopt such a dangerous plan."
"Sire, please..." Seti stretched his arms out.
"Step back," Horemheb commanded. "Djedhor, continue. You have lost me the forts of Foxes and Owls. What happened next?"
"Per-Aa, the plan was for the next fort, the Mice, to hold the Khent-Abt legion under Djeserkare who sought to redeem their name after the battle at the Gulls. After two easy victories, the Amorites would be strung out and weakened by leaving garrisons in the captured forts. Then, as they committed themselves to the attack, Djeserkare's men would burst out of the fort and the legions would hit them from behind."
"And what went wrong?"
Djedhor looked down at the ground, not wanting to meet his king's accusing stare. "The Amorites attacked at night, bearing many torches to make us think the entire army was involved, and then when we countered, we were taken from the rear ourselves."
"Your losses?"
"It is hard to be sure..."
"You have had enough time. Tell me, or there will be one more fatality."
"One thousand eight hundred, Per-Aa. Heru is largely intact, but Shu and Re were cut to pieces."
"And the Khent-Abt? Di
d they redeem themselves?"
"They died to a man, and the fort was taken."
"How many did the Amorites lose?"
"It is hard to be certain, Per-Aa, but we think five hundred."
Horemheb was silent a long time, thinking. "And how should I treat the man who lost me an army? Who handed our enemies the greatest victory they have ever had against Kemet? Should I treat him with justice or mercy? There are eighteen hundred families in Kemet who have lost fathers and brothers. Do you think the wives and sisters expect their king to act with justice or mercy toward the man or men responsible?"
Mose stepped forward. "Per-Aa, may I speak?"
"Will you beg for your life, Mose of Re?"
"No, Per-Aa, but I ask you to consider that the man ultimately responsible for this defeat is the enemy General, Jebu of the Golden Hand. He is a cunning and ruthless foe, and if we are guilty of anything, it is of underestimating him."
"Do any of you other commanders wish to say anything?"
"Seqenenre, Per-Aa, Commander of Heru. My men fought like lions."
"Noted, Seqenenre. Anyone else?"
"Ptahwere, Per-Aa, of the Shu legion. We were caught fast in the Amorite trap and died bravely. Your officers may be guilty of incompetence but the men are loyal and brave."
"S...sire. I, too, would speak." Seti said. He was pale, but he bore himself well, not showing his fear. "Mine was the plan, Per-Aa..."
"I have already said the fault is Djedhor's for listening to an untried boy."
"Yes, sire, but the reason he listened was that I was persuasive and the reason I was persuasive was that I have been brought up on stories of you, sire, and my father's exploits here on the northern borders and against Kemet's enemies everywhere. What was I to think when you and my father showed me by their example to be bold and decisive? I thought of a bold plan to draw out and defeat Jebu and such was my conviction that I persuaded a very able general. The fault is mine, sire. Look no further."
