The Amarnan Kings, Book 5: Scarab - Horemheb
Page 27
"No sir. They are a long way up the road. Khons is falling back under great pressure."
"Get ready," Paramessu ordered. "On my command, the centre parts to let Khons and his men through. Then we hit them hard. No prisoners."
The rear ranks of Khons' little force backed over the rise, still maintaining a reasonable amount of order, given how much pressure they were under. Several men had been wounded, and some were held upright by their fellows. Paramessu sent the scout forward with a message, telling them to break off the engagement and take to their heels. The wounded immediately obeyed and hobbled back down into the safety of the enfolding legion. A few minutes later, Khons barked out a command, and the rest of his group, only some fifty strong, suddenly turned and ran.
The pursuing enemy roared in triumph and surged forward, over the rise and into the arms of the Sobek soldiers. Khons turned to fight again and the Sobek legion charged, folding back the Nubian tribesmen in disarray. Spears plunged and stabbed, swords cut and sliced, feet trampled underfoot as they chased the enemy. Archers took over as the Nubians ran, cutting down every single one of them. Paramessu took stock of his situation, moving his wounded to the rear and bringing up fresh men from the Ta-Senet conscripts.
"Thirty-two dead, another seventeen with wounds so bad they cannot fight," Huy reported. "Of the enemy, something over five hundred dead."
"It's a start," Paramessu replied. He ordered the legion forward again, past the carnage of the recent battle. They advanced steadily, not seeing the enemy. Scouts kept them informed of the Nubian presence, now withdrawing slowly back to Setwah Oasis. Paramessu picked up the pace, trying to close with Menkure, but he handled his larger force with skill, refusing all meaningful contact until five days later, when Paramessu reached the ruins of the Setwah settlement.
Menkure had his army arrayed behind low stone walls formed from the rubble of the town. Despite the recent loss of his vanguard, he still vastly outnumbered the Kemetu legion.
Huy looked gloomily at the horde of tribesmen facing them. "I don't want to seem defeatist, sir, but they are going to be very hard to take."
"I'm inclined to agree with you," Paramessu said. "If we could meet them in the open, our discipline might help, but storming even rudimentary defences like those will be suicidal."
"So what do we do, sir?" Seneb asked.
"We wait. Maybe the gods will inspire us. What I don't want to do is spend Kemetu lives unless there is no option."
Half an hour after the Sobek legion emptied onto the Setwah plain and drew up in battle formation, the Nubian lines opened and a single man ran forward, bearing a banner that bore the Kemetu symbol for parley.
"Let him through," Paramessu growled. "Though why the bastard wants to talk with the advantage he has, I cannot guess."
The herald, a tall young Nubian with a fur kilt and ostrich plume headdress, saluted Paramessu politely. When he spoke, it was in heavily accented but understandable Kemetu. "My lord Menkure asks me to speak only with General Paramessu. Are you that person?"
"I am."
"My lord Menkure says that he will meet with you to discuss the future of the Kingdoms. May I take back your consent?"
Paramessu nodded. "When and where?"
"My lord Menkure will meet with you under that palm tree...," The herald pointed to a solitary tree off to one side and about equidistant from both armies. "...as soon as you are ready. He says three men, no more."
"Tell Menkure I will see him there in a few minutes."
The Nubian herald saluted again and raced back to his own lines. Paramessu turned to his Troop Commanders. "I don't expect there will be treachery, but you never know. Huy, you will come with me, together with Khons. Seneb, you are in command of the legion until I return. If we fall, you are to launch the legion at Menkure with the sole aim of killing him. Nothing matters besides that goal--not your life, not the very existence of the Sobek legion. If you achieve nothing else, Menkure must die. Understand?"
"Yes sir. I hope it won't come to that, but I will avenge you if you fall."
"Revenge has got nothing to do with it. As long as Menkure lives, he will always be a danger to Kemet. Without him, these tribesmen will just go back to their former lives and trouble no-one."
Three men left the Nubian lines, so Paramessu walked out to meet them with Huy and Khons. He studied his enemies as he walked, a single Kemetu burnt almost black by the fierce southern sun and two tall Nubians, one darker than the other. The darker one was dressed in furs and feathers like the herald, but the fairer one was in a kilt and robe, and a linen headdress. Something about the young man's bearing disturbed him. They all reached the palm tree together and stood in the shade looking at one another.
"Lord Menkure. You are far from home."
"General Paramessu. No farther than you. Thank you for meeting with me."
Paramessu indicated his companions. "Troop Commander Huy and Leader of a Hundred Khons, both of the Sobek legion."
A wry smile split Menkure's bearded face. "How apt," he murmured. "This is Passupalti, one of my commanders, and this...I have the honour to introduce Lord Kashtare, son of King Djeserkheperu Smenkhkare, and rightful king of Kemet."
"I do not believe it."
"Is it so very hard to believe? Smenkhkare was ten years in Wawat and Kush, and there he took a native wife. Kashtare is the eldest son and he now claims his throne."
"And you, Menkure? What is your stake in this?"
"Djeserkheperu was my friend and my king. I can be no less for his son."
"And through him seek to rule Kemet, no doubt."
"I will help and advise him, of course. I will be Tjaty, but he will be king."
"Providing he can conquer the Kemetu army."
"Of course. If we fight, a lot of loyal Kemetu men die, which neither of us wants. I hoped that we might discuss that point, General."
"There is nothing to discuss. Kemet has a king--Horemheb, and a strong government. Any pretender to the throne will disturb Ma'at."
"Horemheb? How did he become king? He is a commoner. Ah, wait; of course, he had the army behind him so he took the throne by force. And you talk about disturbing Ma'at."
"Yes, he has the army, but more than this, he has the acceptance of the nobles, the priests and the people. Last of all, he has a royal bride--the Lady Beketaten."
"Scarab? She lives yet? I thought her dead when Ay usurped the throne." Menkure shrugged. "Well, no matter, Lord Kashtare here has the prior claim and a superior one. He is the son of an anointed and consecrated king, begotten on a lawful wife while he was still king."
Paramessu turned and studied the young Nubian youth. "If he truly is Smenkhkare's son. I know of no sure way to test a man's paternity."
"There is one way," Menkure said. "Consult the oracle at Siwah in the deep desert."
Paramessu considered. "You would give up this claim if the oracle found against you?"
"Yes. Would you?"
"I am only Tjaty. That is a decision for the king."
"Will you ask him?"
Paramessu frowned. "What are you saying? You would put the decision for Kemet's future in the hands of the Oracle of Siwah and if the decision goes against you, you will march your men back into Nubia and never come out again?" Menkure nodded. "I'd like to hear it from him." Paramessu pointed at Kashtare.
"I am Kashtare, the son of Djeserkheperu Smenkhkare, and therefore rightful heir to the throne of Kemet," Kashtare said slowly and clearly, as if reciting his lessons. "I will abide by the decision of the oracle."
"And if the oracle finds in his favour?" Paramessu asked Menkure.
"Then Horemheb either steps down in Kashtare's favour, or he adopts Kashtare as his heir."
"What about you? What would you want from this?"
"To be Kashtare's adviser, as always."
"You realise I cannot agree to any of this?" Paramessu said. "Such a decision is for the king alone."
"So discuss it with him."
r /> "And in the meantime, what happens? You continue to advance into Kemet, or will you go back into the wilderness?"
"Neither. My army will occupy Setwah Oasis."
"Until King Horemheb reaches his decision?"
"Yes, but not forever. Where is he now? In Waset?"
"He is on the northern border."
"Then let us say forty days to reach him and forty back. I will allow three months. If you are not back with an agreement by then, I will lay waste to Waset."
"Very well."
Paramessu took his leave of Menkure and walked back to the Sobek legion with a smile on his face. Huy regarded his General in consternation, and was scarcely out of earshot of the Nubians before he voiced his concerns.
"My lord General, with respect, have you taken leave of your senses? The King sent us here to defeat the rebels, not make deals with them. The king will never agree to those terms and will likely have your head for even thinking it."
"You think so? Then think on this also--we could not defeat his army here today. We would die to no purpose and that swarm would descend on our rich farmlands like locusts. Instead, I have bought us three months. In that time, I can have five legions facing him and then we will be rid of him once and for all."
* * *
"Paramessu is a fool," Menkure explained to Kashtare that evening. "His legion could not have defeated us but he could have inflicted so much injury we would have had to retire. Instead, we have three months to continue training, and before he gets back with what I'm sure would be a refusal from Horemheb, we will have emerged and destroyed Ta-Senet and the city of Waset itself."
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* * *
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Seti rode south from Zarw with a sealed satchel of despatches from the king to Tjaty Paramessu in the southern capital of Waset. With him, as befitting his station as King's Messenger, rode ten men picked by the king and charged with the young man's protection. The acting Leader of Ten was in reality a Lieutenant of Cavalry with a lifetime of experience. He had vowed to give his life for the young man's should the need arise. Accordingly, he kept close to Seti and encouraged him to regard him as a friend by regaling him with stories of his campaigns. The young son of the Tjaty responded to his overtures and by the time they reached Iunu, was inseparable from his older friend. He even confided in him his feelings for Tuya.
"I am in love, Puyemre," Seti said.
"Who is this lucky girl? Would I know her?"
"She is Tuya, the daughter of Raia, commander of Chariotry."
"I have seen her, Seti. A true vision of beauty."
"I could not do better than to marry into a military family. Do not laugh, Puyemre, but I hope to be a general like my father one day."
"I am not laughing. With courage and determination a man may go far."
They stayed in Iunu overnight, and before supper, Seti felt a compulsion to visit the spiral temples of the Nine, just outside the city. He walked over, glad of the exercise, in the cool night air. Puyemre went with him. The nine temples were built on a low hill, arranged spirally and connected by a paved road. The temple of Atum the creator was on the summit, but Seti was looking for a temple lower down--that of the god Set, the deity of desert, storms, darkness and chaos.
"You have to wonder why my mother named me for the god."
"A good god to have on your side though," Puyemre said. "A soldier's god."
The temple itself was dark and foreboding in the dusk, with heavy shadows pooling inside the columned porticoes. A giant statue of the god, man-shaped but with the head of the Set animal, stared down at them. The stony gaze made Puyemre shiver, but Seti looked back into the god's face with equanimity. When he made to enter the temple, Puyemre clutched at his arm, drawing him back.
"Come away, Seti, we do not have to worship there. Let us choose a pleasanter god."
"Wait for me outside, then, for I must talk with the god."
"I will come with you."
Seti walked through the door in the outer pylon of the temple, passing from shadowed night into torchlight. The walls within were blood-red and the carved figures of the god moved in the flickering light. He stood still in the open space, with Puyemre a few paces behind, and waited in silence.
"Few people visit the abode of Set," said a voice from the base of a statue. A man moved away from the plinth and slowly advanced to stand in front of Seti. "What is your business here?"
"I come to worship Set and...and to ask of him a question."
"What is your name?"
Seti hesitated a few moments before replying, wondering whether he should risk a false name. "I am Seti, son of Paramessu, son of Seti."
"You are welcome, Seti son Khnumt-Atum Kheper. The god sees the question in your mind."
"Who is this Khnumt-Atum Kheper? You mistake me. I am son of Paramessu."
"Your father is as the insect that dances above the river in the month of Mesore. His lot is but a brief one, dancing in the dusk for a single hour, but Khnumt-Atum Kheper exists forever. Do not disregard the female principle."
"Who is this female you speak of?"
"Your mother."
"What do you know of my mother? She abandoned me when I was only a few weeks old."
"The gods hold her in their hands. Through her you came into being, and from your loins spring greatness."
Seti chewed his lip, trying to make sense of the priest's statements. "My question?"
"Speak to your mother with respect for you will thus please the gods. Give her that which is found."
"I would also ask..."
"The god withdraws," the priest said. "Go now."
Seti left, and stood outside the temple in the cool night, with Puyemre. "Did you hear what he said?"
Puyemre nodded. "I did not understand it though. It seemed as if he said your father was...well, not likely to live long, but he is already what, over forty? And your mother is not this Khnumt-Atum Kheper, is she? I thought her name was Tia."
"It is said that the gods seldom speak plainly," Seti mused. "I will have to think on his words."
"If it really was the god speaking. That priest could just have been playing with us."
They journeyed on the next day but the mood had changed. Seti was withdrawn and quiet, spending his time with his eyes fixed on the horizon or turned inward as if contemplating his origins. Puyemre gave up trying to engage him in conversation after the first ten or twelve times. He dropped back to his men and spoke with them, leaving the young man to his thoughts.
The road led to the bank of the Great River, across the water from the white walls of Ineb Hedj. A small military post stabled their horses and boarded the men while Seti and Puyemre took a small boat across to the city. The boatman was skilled and utilised the fresh north wind to scud over the water, balancing the currents of air and water, bringing them swiftly to the docks.
Seti reported to the commander of the military unit in the city, stating his purpose and showing the sealed bag of despatches he carried to the Tjaty.
"Why have you broken your journey to cross the river?"
"I have just come from the king, sir. I would pay my respects to his wife."
The commander grunted. "Unusual, but now you are here you may do so. Report back here after you have been to the palace and I will give you a report to add to the one you have from the king."
The palace guards likewise wanted to know his business, and called the chamberlain who sniffed pointedly and said he would have to bathe before seeing Lady Khepra.
"You stink of sweat and horses, young sir. I suppose there is little water in the northern deserts, but here in Ineb Hedj we are more civilised."
Seti had no option but to bathe, and secretly he enjoyed the clean stone tub and sluicing room with jars of clear river water poured by smiling slaves. He patted himself down with clean linen and donned a newly laundered kilt while his own was sent for cleaning. Then he was led to a small public hall near the
women's quarters.
The woman standing near the table and chairs at the far end was tall, and had red-toned hair falling about her face and hiding her right eye. She looked up as the young man entered the room and closed the doors behind him.
Seti crossed the floor and bowed respectfully, wondering if this was his mother, and whether she knew of his identity. "Good day, lady. Do I have the honour of addressing Lady Khepra, wife of Lord Horemheb?"
The red-haired woman's left eye searched Seti's face as if drinking him in. "I am known as Lady Khepra," she said softly. "And who are you, young man?"
"I am Seti, son of Paramessu, son of Seti."
The woman turned away, and a hand came up to her face. After a few moments she asked, her head still averted, "You have a message for me? From the king...or his Tjaty?"
"No Lady Khepra. I bear despatches from the king to my father, but none to you."
"Then why have you come?"
"My lady, I...I desired to see you."
Scarab turned back and looked at Seti with an eye that reflected sadness. "Why?"
"They tell me you are my mother." There was silence for a while and through it came a low hum of noise from the palace and the distant sounds of the city. "Will you not answer, Lady Khepra?"
A sigh. "Yes, I am your mother, Set."
"My name is Seti, lady." He stared, his brow furrowing with the intensity. "I was curious to see a high-born lady with so little regard for her son."
Scarab paled. "I loved you," she whispered. "I love you still. I have always loved you."
"Just not enough. You abandoned my father and me with never a thought or a backward glance. What sort of mother does that? Even a crocodile guards her young until they reach the river."
"I did not abandon..."
"What else would you call it when a mother leaves her newborn son and never returns? I am thirteen years old and even now you have not returned. I had to come seeking you."
Scarab shook her head, her red hair swinging aside to show her closed and reddened right eye. "It was not like that."
"Then tell me how it was, Lady Khepra."
"Please do not call me that. It is not my name, not who I am."