by Overton, Max
"Did you put him up to this, Djedhor?" Horemheb asked. "A plea for your life at the expense of his?"
"No, Per-Aa," the General retorted angrily. "I need no man or boy to fight my battles for me..."
"That is exactly what you do need, it seems," Horemheb commented dryly. "So which is it to be, Djedhor? Justice or mercy? Choose."
"Both, Per-Aa. We are taught that the King of Kemet should display both virtues."
"And when the two conflict?"
"Then I leave it to my king to decide on a course that is best for Kemet."
"Very well, then hear my judgment. I find no fault with my legion commanders for they could do nothing but obey orders. The boy Seti is to be given other duties...let us say, six months with Raia, the Lieutenant of Chariotry. At the end of that time, I will review the situation. General Djedhor, you are removed from command of the northern army and demoted to Legion Commander. You will take charge of the recruits I have brought with me, and form the Geb legion. When we meet the Amorites, you and your legion will occupy the centre." Horemheb looked round slowly at his men. "You have heard my judgment. What say you?"
Djedhor fell to his knees, followed by the others. "Per-Aa, we accept."
"Then leave me. I wish to confer with Neferikare."
When the others had left the tent, he talked to his Lieutenant. "I am making you my personal aide, Neferikare. I need someone I can trust to carry out my commands without question and without looking for his own personal advantage. I will have a scribe draw up the proper papers and a commensurate income. Now, first things first. We have to destroy Jebu's army, but we do not have good intelligence on its strength or position. I want scouts sent out immediately, on horseback, to probe the enemy. Once we know where it is, we can plan our attack. Comments?"
"Thank you, Per-Aa. I will not let you down. I will send out scouts immediately and with luck we will know something within a day. Do you have a plan, Per-Aa?"
Horemheb grimaced. "Jebu is a wily son of a whore. I doubt we could trick him. We just might have to take him head on."
Neferikare saluted. "With your permission, Per-Aa, I will start my duties."
Horemheb was not idle while his commanders and aide were busy. In this northern camp, as he had been throughout the long march from Ineb Hedj, he was subject to continuous petitions. His Tjaty in the south took care of some, and the governors of the forty-two sepats some of the others, but there were always disputes that required the king's attention. Some people sent submissions carefully phrased and written to be read out by the court scribes, other men came in person to argue their case. Despite the fact that he was in the field, Horemheb did his best to get through as many suits as possible in the time available. If sometimes judgment was hurried and the outcome unjust, none disputed his decision for that was the chance everyone took.
Following the dispensing of justice, Horemheb took pains to placate the gods. He had a special place in his heart for Heru, the falcon-headed god, who was also the god of war and hunting. Amun was important too, as the protector god of the Great House, of which Horemheb was the incumbent head. The other gods played their part, and in an army of several thousand, there were worshippers of every deity in the Kemetu pantheon. Priests of every persuasion followed the army, ready to administer the rites when called upon. Even a priest of Aten was present, lifting up the heretic's hymn to the solar disc. Horemheb supported them all and allowed his men the freedom to worship whom they would.
The first scouts came in at sunset, riding hard on sweat-lathered horses. They reported the presence of the Amorite army encamped a mere half day's ride away. The scouts had been seen and unsuccessfully pursued, so the enemy was at least aware of Kemetu forces in the neighbourhood. Horemheb ordered his commanders to his tent immediately.
"The enemy has come south, gentlemen," the king said. "We advance in battle order at dawn."
"You have a plan, Per-Aa?" Djedhor asked.
"A very simple one. We meet the enemy and we defeat him. Can you do it, or must I look for new commanders?"
"We can do it, sire," Mose said. "Show us our duty and we shall carry it out."
"Do we know their strength?" Ptahwere asked.
"Four thousand, according to the scouts."
"Then we are outnumbered, three to four."
"Are you afraid, Ptahwere?"
"No Per-Aa. I was merely conjecturing how many Amorites I must kill."
"Good man. Now, Geb will form the centre, with Re and Shu on the left, and Heru on the right. Our chariot formations will swing round on the left, where we are weaker, and strike the Amorites in the flank. Any questions?"
"No, Per-Aa," Djedhor said. "Except that the new Geb legion is untried in battle and forms the centre."
"I will stiffen the ranks with a Troop of the Heru. Gentlemen, the fate of Kemet hangs on tomorrow's battle. If we run, or are defeated, the Amorites, with the Hittites on their heels, will sweep south, burning and pillaging. Do not let that happen. Jebu is a cunning foe, so he will be looking for a trap, a trick, so it may be that he will hold back, waiting for the trap to be sprung. The trap he faces though is no trap, just a frontal assault and I hope that when he realises we are not trying something clever, it will be too late."
Horemheb led the prayers in the pre-dawn light, lifting up petitions to Amun and Heru, and then, as the sun's disc lifted above the eastern horizon, uttered a shortened version of the Hymn to the Aten.
"We fight today for all the Gods of Kemet, all the people of Kemet. Remember that the man standing alongside you on your left and on your right, in front of you and behind you, is your brother. Fight as a family against the enemy that seeks to destroy everything you believe in, seeks to murder your parents, rape your sisters and desecrate your temples. Fight them, Heru; attack them, Re; conquer them, Shu; trample them underfoot, Geb. Join me now, as we fight for our lives, our country and our honour."
The legions cheered and beat on their shields with spears and swords, creating such a din that the horses in the chariot regiment shied and stamped, adding their voices. Horemheb, wearing the blue leather war bonnet, took his place in a chariot at the front of the Geb legion. The new recruits under the command of Djedhor swelled with pride that their king should so honour them, and pressed forward eagerly.
Their eagerness lasted for a while, but as the heat of the day increased and the dust rose to choke them, the soldiers fell back into the trudging monotony that filled every march. Officers passed among the men, talking and telling stories, keeping the men's spirits up. Scouts reported back to the king frequently, bringing the latest intelligence on the enemy's movements.
"They are breaking camp..."
"They are on the march..."
"In file..."
"Four thousand, maybe more..."
"There, sire, ahead of us."
Horemheb halted his army and allowed every man a bite of bread and a swallow of water. He called his commanders to him and checked that each man knew his duties. Then the Kemetu army waited.
The Amorite army approached, but hesitantly. Instead of spreading out in a broad front, Jebu formed his men into a formation reminiscent of a palm tree--fronds spread out across the face of the Kemetu legions, and a trunk extending to the rear.
"You see?" Horemheb said to Neferikare. "Jebu thinks we offer a trap. He keeps part of his army back, ready to counter our cunning."
The king gave the command and the trumpets rang out. Three thousand Kemetu soldiers surged forward, rapidly covering the intervening ground, and crashed into the front ranks of the Amorite army. Men were thrown back by the force of the collision and any semblance of order quickly disappeared as the two armies locked in a struggling melee.
The forces were evenly matched as Jebu still kept part of his army in reserve; watchful for the trap he was certain must eventuate. The minutes passed, with scores of men dying from spear or blade or club, hundreds more suffering wounds, and gradually the discipline of the Kemetu army proved an a
dvantage. They pressed forward, and the Amorites fell back and wavered on the brink of flight.
"Now, Raia, now!" Horemheb yelled and despite the din of battle, it seemed as though the Lieutenant of Chariotry heard him--or perhaps it was Seti, the driver of his commander's chariot who recognised the vital moment. Fifty chariots hurtled forward, round the left wing, and smashed into the struggling Amorites. It was a small force, but launched at the correct time, it was the stick that breaks the donkey's back. The Amorite right wing crumbled and fled, followed a few moments later by the centre.
Too late, Jebu saw the extent of the Kemetu trap and threw his remaining men into the fray. His men were ineffective, swamped by fleeing men. Jebu fought furiously, but the men around him dwindled as more turned and ran. He cursed and signalled a general retreat, and with a roar of triumph, the Kemetu legions rushed forward, dealing death to fleeing hundreds.
The Amorites streamed away from the battle, scattering in an effort to evade their pursuers, and the legion commanders restrained their men, keeping them in units, thus letting many escape. By dusk, though, the Kemetu legions were in complete control of the battlefield and had started to tally their own dead and count the right hands of their foes.
The Chariot regiment returned, having harried the enemy for hours, at one point engaging with Jebu's personal guards. Seti proved himself an able charioteer, and earned the praise of his commander, Raia. Towards the end, he had fought on foot when one of the horses was killed and it was then that he saw something gleaming on the ground. Seti snatched it up and slipped it into his pouch and forgot about it until he returned to camp. He took it out and examined it as he sat beside the fire that night, beef and wine sitting comfortably in his belly.
It was a scarab, a carved scarab of some unknown heavy stone.
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Chapter Twenty-Four
Scarab and Khu returned to Ineb Hedj at a leisurely pace, sailing downriver on the great golden barge that had transported the body of Ay to its burial site. The officer in charge, Metrehut, was in no hurry and allowed his charges ample time to stretch their legs at the villages on the way, and even spend a day or two in the city of Akhet-Aten. They were under close guard the whole time, but Metrehut did not see his orders in that regard to mean the king's wife and companion could not enjoy the trip.
Akhet-aten was a revelation. Scarab had not been in the city since the disappearance of her brother Smenkhkare, are her flight downriver from Ay's soldiers. She and Khu had made a brief visit then, to a city that was still the centre of Aten worship and brimmed with the treasures of Akhenaten's reign. This time was very different. Ten years of neglect had taken its toll. When the seat of government moved away, back to Waset, the nobles moved with it, and most of the craftsmen followed. What need was there for builders and artists, scribes and sculptors, when the people who were left behind had scant use for the niceties of life? The population dwindled, and as the mud brick houses crumbled, nobody repaired them. The tombs lay open and unfinished, and though the dressed stone edifices of the palaces and Great Temple of the Aten still stood, there was an air of neglect and decay about them.
Scarab showed Khu around the city, always accompanied by Metrehut and the guards at a discreet distance. She even took him into the palace and showed him the Window of Appearance where the king and queen, together with their six daughters, had shown themselves.
"I was here too," Scarab told Khu. "When Meketaten fell ill, the king had me ride in her golden chair through the streets as one of his Garland of Daughters."
"I remember," Khu said. "I saw you here, remember? I had brought produce over the river from my father's farm and stayed to watch. I saw you in your golden chair but did not know it was you then...only that you were very beautiful."
"That's not what you said before," Scarab laughed. "I seem to remember a farm lad telling me I was not as pretty as the other girls."
Khu shrugged and smiled. "I was a boy then. As a man, I know better."
Scarab obtained permission from the Palace Overseer to enter the women's apartments, now empty, and showed Khu her old room. She pointed out the Queen's quarters and the rooms of the other princesses.
"I could show you where I overheard Nefertiti and Ay plotting, but we would have to go to the Northern Palace. I'm not sure I can be bothered in this heat. Do you mind?"
"Not in the slightest. I would not mind finding that sculptor who helped us though. What was his name?"
"Neb, but I doubt he is here still. There would be little work for a man of his talents this far from the court."
Neb the sculptor was no longer in Akhet-Aten, having retired to Waset to live with his daughter and son-in-law. His assistant Bek still worked there, but even he was thinking of moving on.
"Nobody wants the 'Natural' look any longer," he grumbled. "Since the return to Amun, everyone wants the old-fashioned stylised mode of painting and sculpting. There are hundreds of capable painters and masons to do that work--I don't call them artists, of course. It takes creativity to portray reality. Look at this."
The artist showed them a painting on wood of a hunter in a reed bed, an arrow just having been loosed from his bow, and a flight of ducks exploding into flight. Scarab and Khu examined the painting closely, awed by what they saw.
"The hunter is unbalanced," Khu said. "When I looked first, I thought he was about to fall over and it made me uncomfortable, but I see now it conveys a sense of movement. It is not at all static. Quite remarkable!"
"I like the ducks," Scarab remarked. "Again, there is a sense of motion, and the brushwork is so detailed you can see individual feathers."
"No market for it, though," Bek said gloomily. "I've survived this long on die-hard Atenists, but I'm going to have to find somewhere else soon. What is Waset like? Too many Amun supporters, I suppose."
"You're not an Aten worshipper?" Khu asked. "I thought everyone here was."
"I respect all the gods," Bek replied. "I work here because people love this free-flowing style, but if the market dries up, I'll go where the work is."
"I would not go to Waset," Scarab said. "The priests of Amun have too tight a grip on the city. Try Ineb Hedj. The atmosphere there is a lot more relaxed."
Bek nodded. "Thank you for your advice, Lady. It is much appreciated in these hard times."
"If you are still working when I die, I'd like you to paint the walls of my tomb. I cannot think of anything nicer than to while away eternity looking at scenes like this."
"You honour me, Lady."
The barge sailed again that same day, taking advantage of a south-westerly breeze to rest the oarsmen. They made good time for a day or two before the wind turned against them and they had to resort to oars again. Ten days after leaving Akhet-Aten, they reached Ineb Hedj and heard the news that King Horemheb had won a major victory in the north, throwing back and destroying the Amorite invader. The populace celebrated and the Mayor released funds to purchase bread and meat and beer for everyone.
Metrehut escorted Scarab and Khu to the palace and turned over the responsibility for them to the palace guards. While Scarab oversaw the cleaning of her suite of rooms, Khu went looking for his friends. He found Abrim and Nebhotep in the physician's room, and was appalled by the state of his friend.
"I'm glad to see you of course, but you look dreadful. Is it the growth?"
Nebhotep nodded. The skin on his body was pale and drawn tight over his bones, and looked akin to a body dried by the desert. "Nearly done, old friend," he whispered. "I hoped you would be back in time."
"In time for what?"
"My death, of course." Nebhotep smiled like a grinning skull. "Come, my friend, you are almost a physician. Can you not see death in me?"
"Can nothing be done?"
"A month ago, you could have cut the growth from my belly and I would have lived two or three days. Now, I would die on the operating table."
"How can you stand it?"
&nbs
p; "There is nothing that can be done," Nebhotep said calmly. "Death comes to us all. I have accepted my fate, Khu, so do not be sad. Help me enjoy the days I have left."
"He's like that," Abrim commented. "It is impossible to be sad in his presence. Will you have a cup of beer?"
"Wine for me," Nebhotep said. "Poppy juice and beer tastes dreadful."
Khu accepted a cup and, with prompting, told the others about Waset, the marriage of Horemheb and Scarab, and the coronation. "No, she is not Queen, just a wife."
"Does the king seek to insult the Eye?" Abrim growled. "How can he pass over a noble lady like that?"
"She does not seek to be Queen, only to escape."
"And what of yourself, young Khu?" Nebhotep asked. "Will you now take the final examinations at the House of Life and become a proper physician?"
"I cannot see the point. I do well enough as an unofficial assistant."
"I will not always be here, lad, and Scarab will need someone trained to administer to her. Do you think if she fell ill the king would send for you or for a physician from the House of Life? You know the answer, so if you would serve her well, do not delay."
"Um...perhaps you are right. I will give it some thought."
A week later, Khu presented himself at the House of Life in Ineb Hedj, asking that he be examined for the profession of physician. The Head of the House himself, Meren, examined Khu, mindful of the young man's connection with the wife of the king. An oral test came first, where he sat down and quizzed Khu at length on the identification and use of herbs, the benefits of the dung of various animals, and the prayers prescribed for a wide variety of ailments. Khu answered well, for Nebhotep had warned him that modern cures were frowned on by the ultra-conservative School of Physicians.
"Tell me of the principal behind the treatment of the human body," Meren asked.
"The body is Kemet in miniature," Khu answered. "The central cavity of the body is like the Great River, and the holes of the body are irrigation canals. As long as the canals flow freely, delivering life to and from the central cavity, the human remains healthy. The heart is the most important organ, akin to the capital city of Kemet. Food and air pass freely from mouth and nostrils to this organ. Disease is caused by blockage of one or more of these canals."
