“No. I’m not campaigning this year,” Ramesses said. “Father wants me to wait until after next year’s harvest, when the granaries in Retenu and Setjet will be completely full.”
Unbelievable. “That’s crazy! Couldn’t you talk him out of it?”
“I agree with Father. There’ll be far more plunder if we wait a year.”
Were they both blind? I stepped closer to him. “Brother, if we attack now and take all the wretches’ grain they’ll have to surrender every one of their towns and settlements to us this year,” I said earnestly. “Either that or die of starvation. This is the perfect opportunity for us to impose our will on the North. Don’t give them respite from your last campaign.” I balled my hand into a fist. “Seize the chance to make the North dependent on us again!”
“We can’t afford an army of occupation,” Ramesses said dismissively. “We don’t have the resources.”
“I know Father’s set in his ways,” I said dispiritedly. “I hoped you’d have a better vision for the future.”
“My vision is quite clear,” Ramesses said stiffly. “And, unlike yours, Brother, mine matters.”
I willed myself to remain calm. Getting into a full–fledged argument with Ramesses wouldn’t do me any good. He was as stubborn and, apparently, short–sighted as Father. “If you’re not here to launch a campaign, why have you come?”
Ramesses glanced at his son. “It’s time for Amenherkoshef to begin military training. I’ve appointed him commander of my cavalry. Peyes, he’ll report to you.”
I stared at Ramesses in disbelief. I’d just been replaced by an unqualified boy? After the victory I’d just won? Without discussion? “The cavalry I found in complete disarray when I returned to Pi–Ramesses after our brother’s burial and whipped into fighting shape? The cavalry I just used to annihilate Shasu thieves?”
“Cavalry you had no right to use,” Ramesses reiterated. “Anyway, you’re going to concentrate on taking care of Pi–Ramesses’ military facilities, as before. Kairy will train Amenherkoshef and be his second in command and mentor until he can function on his own. Three or four years should do it.”
This couldn’t be happening. Pushed aside by a boy and a chariot driver? “Father agrees with this arrangement?”
“He suggested it.”
Of course he had. He didn’t respect me or my abilities. He’d just turned me from a victorious commander of cavalry into a nameless bureaucrat. Ramesses and Father had crumpled the opportunity I’d earned through hard work and daring into a ball and thrown it away without a second thought. I was at their mercy. It was clear they’d never let me rise any higher than I already had. They weren’t ever going to give me a military command of my own. I wasn’t as qualified in their eyes as an untrained boy who, in my opinion, showed no promise as a leader. “You’re co–ruler, Ramesses,” I pled. “Give me something important to do.”
“Keeping my army supplied with weapons and equipment and trained horses is vitally important.”
“Of course it is. Vitally,” I said sarcastically.
Ramesses stood. “And now, I’m off to the per’aa to rest. The journey from Djeme was long. Come along, Son.”
An opportunity for me to be a little vindictive in return for how Ramesses had treated me today. “Pardon me, Brother,” I interrupted. “If Amenherkoshef commands the cavalry he should live in this pavilion from now on, not the per’aa.” I addressed my nephew. “Commanders lead by example.”
Ramesses eyed me for a moment. He knew I was using his son to get under his skin. But he could hardly step in and contradict me in front of men his son now led. “You’re right, Brother. I’ll send for you in a day or two. We’ll talk more then.” He tilted his head towards Peyes. “Join me. I want to hear about this so–called expedition of my brother’s.”
Incredible disrespect! Ramesses wasn’t even going to extend me the courtesy of making my own report. What little compunction I’d had of trying to replace him as Father’s successor melted away. Ramesses had just cost himself the throne. I was going to make sure of it. He exited the pavilion. His waiting retinue, and Peyes, joined him.
“I’ll have a servant move my things out of this pavilion,” I told Amenherkoshef. “I assume Kairy will sleep in here with you.”
Kairy nodded.
“Shall we have a look at your cavalry?” I asked Amenherkoshef. I was bitter, but no sense taking it out on him. He was as much a tool of Father as I was.
“Yes, Uncle! I’ve been dying to see it ever since Grandfather told me I was in charge.”
Words that cut like a knife.
The men who’d gone with me were settling back into their tents. Comrades who’d been left behind were gathered around those who’d fought at my side and were no doubt regaling them with tales of their exploits. The camp stretched for a quarter mile from north to south on the flats along the riverbank, abutting the charioteers who in turn abutted the infantry divisions, in sight of Pi–Ramesses’ harbor. Most of Father’s navy was anchored there, Ramesses’ barque docked in their midst. I caught sight of Ramesses being ferried across the river to the city in a small boat. Good – we’d have some distance between us tonight. A few larger vessels were moving up the channel towards the harbor lined with warehouses, traders from outside the valley, their sails lowered, oarsmen rowing against the current.
“Normally the cavalry goes on campaign during the inundation, Nephew,” I said. “Since it won’t this year you’re going to have to find a new location for your camp. This section will be a dozen feet under water.”
“You’ll help me pick it out, Uncle?” he asked in a quavering voice.
“I think that’s best left to you and Kairy.” They wanted to lead the cavalry. Let them.
Many cavalrymen were bathing in the river alongside camp, washing the grime of our excursion from bodies and clothing. Others were busily lighting fires to cook their evening meal. Some were repairing equipment, others unloading the jars of wine I’d rescued. Quite a few were brushing and feeding horses or watering them along the edge of the river.
“Can you ride, Nephew?”
“Grandfather taught me, here and at Djeme.”
“He sits a horse well, Majesty,” Kairy told me.
The men cheered me as we passed through camp and regarded Amenherkoshef with curiosity. They’d learn soon enough that they owed their fealty to him now. They were going to find that ridiculous, especially those who’d gone on my expedition, and Ramesses’ before me. Veterans led by an untried boy. Surprisingly, a considerable number of cavalrymen greeted Kairy by name. He seemed to have earned their respect. I wondered how. He was just a chariot driver, after all. Why did my brother trust him enough to put him in charge of his son’s training?
“How long have you served my brother, Kairy?”
“Ten years, Majesty.”
“Before that?”
“I grew up on a farm outside Nekhen, Majesty. My father had too many sons to split the farm among. My next youngest brother became a priest in the temple of Horus. I joined His Majesty’s army.”
“You’ve gone on all of my brother’s campaigns since then?”
“I have.”
“How did you come to be his driver?”
“Sheer happenstance, Majesty.”
“Hah!” Amenherkoshef exclaimed. “Father told me all about it.”
“Majesty…” Kairy said, looking uncomfortable. “There’s no need…”
“There was a battle,” Amenherkoshef continued. “Father’s driver was killed by an arrow. Another plunged into the flank of one of his horses. The team was running wild. Kairy came up alongside in his chariot, jumped into Father’s, regained control.”
“Anyone would have done it,” Kairy muttered. “Right place at the right time…”
His modesty seemed sincere.
“Kairy’s been teaching me to drive,” Amenherkoshef said proudly.
“Not quite strong enough to control the horses on your own,”
Kairy said affectionately. “But soon, Majesty.”
“Here are the prisoners,” I announced.
There were only a dozen. They were seated beneath palm trees, guarded by men with long lances. All were filthy. Linen bandages dark with dried blood were wrapped around arms and legs. Ankles and wrists were bound. They were eating and drinking, awkwardly.
“So few,” Amenherkoshef said.
“We killed forty,” I replied. “I left them where they fell, unburied. By now jackals and vultures have picked their bones clean.”
“What will you do with these wretches?” Amenherkoshef asked.
“Send them to Father in Djeme. He’ll either execute them for stealing from him or make them slaves.” Maybe Father would feel a little guilty then for removing me from command of the cavalry, after seeing what I’d accomplished. “I’ve got jars of trophies for him too.”
After a quick look at the horses, the three of us joined the cavalry officers at a campfire in front of what was now Amenherkoshef’s pavilion for dinner.
“This is my nephew, Amenherkoshef, son of my brother Ramesses, the new commander of His Majesty’s cavalry,” I announced as we seated ourselves in their midst.
The officers were stunned.
“Welcome, Majesty,” said Hakor after a long silent moment. He’d served my dead brother as deputy.
The rest muttered a welcome.
“I assume most of you know Kairy,” I said. “He’ll be training my nephew and serve as his second–in–command.”
“What about you, Majesty?” Hakor asked. He’d just been demoted in favor of Kairy, though his face didn’t betray his anger.
“I’ll be training your horses, as usual.”
“I don’t know anything about soldiering,” Amenherkoshef told the men around the fire. “But I promise you, I’ll work hard to learn.”
A good start.
“I’ll get to know all of you,” Amenherkoshef promised, glancing at every man in turn.
Comely serving girls filled platters with food and cups with wine for all of us, then stood close by to attend us. They’d been the one camp luxury of my dead brother’s I hadn’t dispensed with when I seized command of the cavalry.
“Tell me about the fight, Uncle,” Amenherkoshef insisted as we began to eat.
I let my men describe the battle instead, which they did in detail. I sensed modesty was a better approach with my nephew than boastfulness. And with Kairy. For all I knew, his primary reason for remaining in Pi–Ramesses was to keep an eye on me for my brother, not train my nephew. Had Ramesses somehow sensed I was trying to turn the army against him? Or had Peyes actually told him? Is that the real reason he’d taken him into the city? Or was I giving Ramesses credit for being aware of what I was planning when he was actually clueless?
“That’s the whole story,” Hakor concluded. “Who knows how it might have turned out if His Majesty had listened to Deputy Commander Peyes and waited to launch our attack.”
“Amazing, Uncle. To win a great victory without losing a man.”
“The gods were with us,” I said humbly. Now, to take Kairy’s measure. Since he might be a spy I needed to know what kind of man he was, if he had preconceived notions that might paint me in a poor light. “You’ve fought wretches, Kairy. Do you disapprove of plunging into battle as I did instead of taking the time to develop a plan?”
“I wasn’t on the battlefield, Majesty. I have no right to judge.”
Noncommittal. Not a good sign. “In general, then?”
He took his time formulating an answer. “I believe there are times when a commander needs to pause and think things through carefully. I believe the best commanders know when to throw caution to the wind and simply act.”
A good answer, if he meant it. “How about you, Kairy? Are you a cautious man?”
He shrugged. “I have to be, Majesty. I drive the co–ruler on the battlefield. I’m responsible for his life. I have to keep him near enough the front to inspire his troops and in the right place to issue commands, yet far enough from danger to keep him from being killed.” His eyes met mine. “Frankly, Majesty, there were many times during past campaigns when I wished I was a common charioteer again so I could rush into the thick of the fight.”
“Instead of being held back by my brother.”
We both laughed. I supposed Kairy was going to be tolerable. A good thing, since I was going to have to cultivate him too. He had Ramesses’ ear, and apparently Father’s if he’d made him my nephew’s deputy and trainer. Perhaps a recommendation from Kairy would help advance my career with Father after I disposed of Ramesses.
“I wish we’d come to Pi–Ramesses a month sooner, Uncle. I wish I could have fought the Shasu with you.”
I resisted the urge to tell Amenherkoshef he was never going to fight anyone as long as his grandfather and then his father ruled the valley. He’d be leading the cavalry on expeditions designed to intimidate wretches, not capture towns and territory. He was a starry–eyed boy, inexperienced, excited by the thought of being a soldier. As I’d been at his age and still was. But all too soon he’d have to face the reality of being commander of cavalry that did nothing. Then it struck me – someday Amenherkoshef might sit the throne. Ramesses was already fairly old and had lived longer than any of my brothers. It was possible Amenherkoshef would succeed Father instead of Ramesses. Amenherkoshef’s presence at Pi–Ramesses suddenly appeared in a different light. I had an opportunity to grow close to a future pharaoh, and perhaps shape him. That could be important if Ramesses died before I could replace him. Interesting. Perhaps my dream of restoring Thutmose’s empire was truly viable. Perhaps in coming years I could persuade Amenherkoshef that his objective should be to make the valley great again when he became Pharaoh. Perhaps I could convince him the army was a tool to be used, not sit idle, and that I was the man to wield it in his name. So, I vowed I’d make myself indispensable to my nephew. A backup plan in case I couldn’t take the throne for myself.
“I wish you’d been there too,” I said. “Nothing stirs the blood like a good fight, Nephew.”
“Here! Here!” officers echoed.
“When will we start my training, Kairy?”
“You should begin first thing in the morning, Nephew,” I interjected. “When I came back from Djeme I found the cavalry in disarray. After your uncle died no one was in charge here. I set things to rights with hard work. It’ll be up to you to maintain discipline from now on. You should let the men who were on the expedition relax and recover for a week, as a reward. But the men who remained behind should resume their regular exercise immediately. Don’t you agree, Kairy?”
“Of course, Majesty.”
“If any Shasu dare attack another caravan, Nephew, your men will be ready to punish them. Under your leadership, of course.”
“Let’s hope some are foolish enough to attack,” Amenherkoshef said fervently.
“Majesty, what do you know about Pharaoh’s army?” Hakor asked.
“Not much,” Amenherkoshef admitted.
“Then your training should start tonight, Majesty, not in the morning,” Hakor said.
I nodded. “The army consists of divisions, Nephew, named after the gods of the territories where their soldiers are recruited. Three were originally created by the third Thutmose – the Amen Division at Waset, Re at Iunu, and Ptah at Memphis. Ramesses the Great added a fourth, based here, Seth’s. Senior commanders, like Hakor, recruit troops and supply and provision them. Logistics are supervised by the Scribe of Recruits and the Chief Scribe of the Army. Reporting to them are military scribes.”
“Divisions operate separately, Majesty,” Hakor added. “Your cavalry carry communications between them, and scout in advance of the entire army. Each division has five thousand men, divided into twenty subunits, each with its own commander and battle standard and military scribe. Soldiers in the subunits are organized in platoons of fifty men, each led by a Greatest of Fifty. During battle, orders are commun
icated by trumpet.”
“Chariots are weapon platforms, Majesty,” Kairy interjected, taking up the instruction. “Each chariot contains a driver and archer. The driver protects the archer with a shield. The archer uses a compound bow. The chariot carries multiple quivers crammed with arrows, and bronze–bladed javelins, and a khepesh, and a mace. A runner runs alongside each chariot and dispatches enemy wounded left in the chariot’s wake.”
“How many chariots go on campaign?” Amenherkoshef asked.
“Two hundred fifty. Plus a stable master and grooms to care for horses, and craftsmen to make repairs to the chariots.”
“A plethora of military scribes go on campaign as well,” Hakor added. “They record weapons given to each fighter, and supplies, and count dead and wounded. They act as heralds and convey orders. They keep track of the supply train – donkeys and oxen.”
“The objective of your campaign, the speed with which you plan to travel, will determine if you use donkeys or oxen,” I said. “Oxen travel a little over nine miles in five hours. After that they must stop for the day. Donkeys travel almost thirty miles in an eight hour day. Beasts have to carry their own forage and water, plus food and water and supplies and equipment for the men.” I swept my arm around the camp. “All these standards, Nephew? Each unit has its own. You’ll need to memorize them. Otherwise, you’ll have no idea which unit is doing what during a fight.”
“You’ll sleep in a tent on campaign,” Hakor said. “You and we high ranking officers will be attended by servants and cooks and scribes and healers. The men will sleep in the open under blankets. Each night the men will surround the camp with an earthen embankment topped with their shields. On the march each soldier will carry a bag over his shoulder containing his rations and personal belongings and some food and any booty he’s taken. He’ll also carry his weapons and a shield.”
“Soldiers are given a ration of grain,” I said. “They have to grind it into flour themselves. So the beasts carry portable grindstones for each unit.”
The Gardener and the Assassin Page 29
