It was time for desperate measures. I put my hand on the captain’s broad chest, leaned close, whispered in his ear. “Must you take me to the palace right away?” I asked, my voice sultry. “I wouldn’t have Governor Jopa be my only memory of this night.” I took hold of his right hand and placed it on my left hip.
He stroked it for a moment. “Everyone out!” he cried.
The last of the men and the scribe went into the street. The captain shut the door firmly behind them.
I pulled my long hair back over my shoulders with both hands, gazed deep into the captain’s eyes, licked my lips. He stared at me for a moment, smiled, then closed the distance between us in a few steps. The torchlight played upon our bodies, half–lit, half–shadowed. He fell upon me hungrily, his mouth hard against mine, his right hand around my waist, his left moving higher. I returned his kiss, raked my fingers down his back from shoulders to waist, pressed against him. My right hand grazed the handle of his dagger. It was now or never. In one swift movement I drew his dagger from his belt and turned it and stabbed upward into his spine. He screamed and his legs buckled and he crumpled to the ground, arms locked around me, dragging me with him, half–falling on me. I landed on my left shoulder and hip and felt a sharp pain in both. The captain was heavy. I took a moment, caught my breath, pushed him with all my might, rolled from under him. His blood was wet on my skin. He writhed in agony beside me. I pulled the dagger from his back and he screamed again. I slit his throat to silence him. Then I crawled to the nearest basket, sliced it open. The soldier inside emerged, drenched in sweat, plastered with kernels of grain, half suffocated. I crawled to another basket, cut it open, then another. Before long a dozen soldiers were themselves opening baskets. By that time both of my knees and elbows were scraped and bleeding.
In ten minutes, all two hundred of our men were ready to fight. Captain Nikaure, their commander, moved next to me beside the storehouse door. He nodded and soldiers extinguished the torches, plunging the inside of the storehouse into darkness. I opened the door the slightest bit and looked out and a sliver of light spilled in. I raised two fingers, indicating two guards.
“Now,” Nikaure whispered.
I opened the door wider and poked my head out. “Your captain… he’s taken ill!” I told the guards frantically. “He needs help! Hurry!”
They rushed inside and our soldiers seized them from behind and slit their throats and I pushed the door shut.
“We’re in the center of the city,” I told Nikaure and the rest of the men as they gathered closely around us. “The streets are winding and crowded with houses in every direction. But I took note of the landmarks. I can guide you to the gate. It’s well defended. There’s a barracks full of soldiers to one side.”
“Lead, My Lady, and we follow.”
I opened the door wide and limped out, the men filling the street behind me. My hip was aching, and my shoulder. My left arm hung limp. I took my direction from the stars, thankful for the years I’d spent studying them with Nefer and Hori. Luckily, by now the streets were deserted, the rooftops vacant, and so we moved swiftly, always downhill, each step agonizing for me. Every so often a few soldiers melted into the shadows alongside a wall or doorway, taking position so that when we launched our attack it would come from multiple directions. In ten minutes what remained of our force reached the side of the square across from the gate. It was barred on the inside. Ten soldiers were seated around a fire next to the gate, no doubt awaiting the return of the governor and his men. Several more soldiers stood in the doorway of the barracks, backlit by torches. Laughter rose from inside. The soldiers were at their evening meal.
Our soldiers were upon them before they could react. The ten at the gate fell immediately, and those in the barracks were killed as they emerged. Our men opened the gate and Djehuty and his three hundred waiting men poured through. All had gone exactly as planned at the pavilion. The fighting within Yapu was vicious, but within hours the city was ours, its people enslaved, hostages rounded up and imprisoned to ensure the cooperation of all. The fighting would have taken longer but, as the enemy captain had told me, most of Yapu’s men were encamped at Megiddo, awaiting Thut’s attack. Their absence had severely weakened the defenses of their city.
Nefer nearly fainted when she arrived shortly after the city was secured and saw me sitting in the square near a pile of bodies, exhausted. I’m sure I looked awful. My bloodied and muddied and torn skirt stuck to my hips and legs, and my knees and elbows were scabbing over, and dried rivulets of blood trailed down my legs and forearms. My hip had stiffened and I could barely walk. My left shoulder was throbbing, already turning purple, bruised from the captain falling on it. I could barely raise my arm. My tangled hair was a mess – dusty, muddy, bloody. Solicitously, Nefer brought me food and drink, and as I ate she cleaned my wounds – there was no time for me to wash, and I had no clean clothes to change into – and as she did I told her everything that had happened that day. After she tended to me, she carefully took me into her arms and held me close and whispered that she would have died if anything had happened to me.
When Re rose the next morning, Djehuty and Nefer and I were already standing before the city gate. The road that passed through it descended to and wound through a vast plain, glistening with dew. I saw Djehuty’s empty pavilion a mile to the east, a pennant drooping before it, and a mile beyond that our deserted camp. We had no time to waste disassembling and packing our tents, and so were leaving them behind. Several dozen laden donkeys were already snaking directly north from the camp, carrying just enough supplies to last us until we rejoined Thut; we’d intercept the donkeys once we set out. Bodies of enemy soldiers and a few civilians were strewn in the square and up every street within my sight – gashed, maimed, dismembered. Much of the dusty ground was dark with blood. Carrion birds were circling high overhead. A few baskets near the gate held cut off hands and penises, trophies of war. Some of our soldiers were herding groups of hollow–eyed and fearful captives into buildings, where they’d be imprisoned. Our captains were busily organizing men for the march on one side of the square; other soldiers were taking position on the walls and within the city as guards. The cries of mourning women and children carried on the wind.
By an hour after dawn our small army had embarked on the road to Megiddo, marching fast, leaving one hundred of our number behind to watch over our captives and treasure and city.
***
An hour before sunset we approached a row of shields pressed into the ground that marked the perimeter of Thut’s camp just outside Yehem, a small town south of the mountain that guarded Megiddo.
“It’s General Djehuty!”
The cry of the sentry was taken up by soldiers gathered around nearby fires preparing their evening meals and rolled through camp like a wave. We rode in through a narrow gap in the shields. We’d been traveling hard and fast since dawn and I couldn’t wait to dismount from my horse, though I recognized I’d had it easy; unlike Nefer and the officers and me, the men had marched the entire distance. Thut’s soldiers were rushing towards us from every direction, filling the air with exultant cries. The camp was orderly but crowded; horses grazed beside chariots, donkeys stood attached to supply carts, tents stood in long rows. Supplies were piled everywhere.
Nefer and I were, like the rest of Djehuty’s men, dusty and exhausted and famished. None of us had slept for two days, and had consumed only one quick meal on our march from Yapu. I’d slipped away for a few moments and bathed in a small creek that we crossed. Nefer had washed as much of the blood and grime from my skirt as she could, but it was still darkly stained and badly ripped. Now General Djehuty pulled his horse to one side and issued a command and his men began falling out beside the nearest campfires to eat and drink and rest.
The camp was bisected by two roads that divided it into four quadrants. Djehuty and Nefer and I continued on horseback towards the king’s tent, located at the intersection of the roads. It stood in its own encl
osure, surrounded by the tents of the army’s commanders. I picked out the banners of the various divisions – Re, Amun and Ptah – planted in the earth nearby. There were only two entrances to the royal zone, both heavily guarded. We dismounted – me gingerly – and the general and Nefer and I were admitted. Nefer supported me with one arm around my waist as I painfully limped the last few steps, trailing the general. By now Thut had heard the commotion and was standing before his tent, one of his pet lions, leashed, at his side.
“Be of good cheer, Majesty!” Djehuty announced loudly as we stopped before Thut. He bowed low, then raised the ebony cane high. “For Amun, your good father, has given to you the rebel of Yapu and all his people, as well as his city. I have left men to hold them as captives, that you may fill the house of your father Amun–Re, King of the Gods, with male and female slaves, who have fallen beneath your feet forever.”
A broad smile creased Thut’s face. “General, I did not expect such a victory from you. You will tell us about it as we eat.”
Then Thut noticed me. I must have been a horrible sight, with my torn and stained skirt and scabbed–over knees and elbows and bruised shoulder and long windblown hair wavy from my immersion in the stream. A look I’d remember the rest of my life crossed his face – fear, wonder, agony, joy. I knew that if we weren’t standing in front of half his army he’d have taken me in his arms. “Mery! What…?”
“I’m uninjured, Majesty,” I hastily assured him.
“You don’t appear uninjured.” Thut scanned me from head to toe. “Your knees… your shoulder... How did this happen?”
I smiled. “We mustn’t spoil General Djehuty’s tale, Majesty.”
He stared a moment longer. “Then let’s hear it,” Thut said impatiently, and turned on his heel and entered his tent.
A guard held the flap aside and we followed Thut in. The royal tent was made of leather, divided in two, one half low and long and rectangular, the other square, with a high pointed roof held up by a large column. There were several folding stools, some small tables, wood boxes and reed and leather baskets for provisions and clothes, a collapsible bed, a gilded throne and footstool. Burning bowls of oil on wooden stands provided illumination.
Tjanuni, the king’s military scribe, sat at a small table just in front of the king’s sleeping quarters, scratching on a sheet of papyrus with a reed pen. The papyrus was no doubt part of the military daybook he kept that would be stored in the royal archives once we returned to Kemet. The daybook would serve as the basis for poetic and commemorative inscriptions that would be placed on temples around the country to memorialize Thut’s campaign. The army’s officers were all present in the tent and rushed forward to congratulate General Djehuty, surrounding him and vigorously clapping him on the back. I’d come to know them all well these last three weeks – the dark–skinned Nubian Dedu, commander of Thut’s Medjay bodyguards, superintendent of the western deserts and royal envoy to desert tribes; Amenmose, captain of troops and Eyes of the King in the Two Lands of the Retenu, who had guided us along every road and to every well on the march north; Mahu, deputy of the army; Horemheb, master of horse; Pehsukher, standard–bearer of the King, bow–carrier of the Lord of the Two Lands; and, of course, Ahmose and Amenemhab.
Ahmose embraced me, careful not to put pressure on my dark purple shoulder.
Amenemhab slowly looked me up and down. “Whatever it is you claim you did at Yapu, Mery, I believe it. In advance.”
I laughed.
Nefer took me into the king’s sleeping quarters. I discarded my skirt and put on one of her dresses. We returned to the others just as servants entered the tent laden with food and drink, hurried along by two royal butlers – Suemniwet and Neferperet. Except for Thut and Djehuty and Nefer and me everyone sat down on the floor, cross–legged. King and general shared a small table; Nefer and I sat at another. I was grateful to be off my feet and off a horse. My hip hurt.
“Yapu’s walls appeared impregnable, General,” Thut said. “The city had plenty of grain and water. I expected it to hold out indefinitely. All I asked of you was to keep the enemy trapped inside until I dealt with Megiddo. But you captured it. How?”
“Yesterday afternoon, I invited Governor Jopa to meet me halfway between his city and my camp to talk and feast,” Djehuty reported. “He and a handful of his soldiers accepted. I fed them and got them drunk. I told the governor you were awed by his might, and so had returned home with your army and now desired to purchase his friendship and safe passage through his lands for your caravans.”
“And he believed this fiction, that I feared him?” Thut asked.
“With all his heart,” Djehuty chuckled.
I noted that he was glossing over the details of the meeting, including mention of tribute. I didn’t fault Djehuty for not fully disclosing every word that had passed between him and the governor. Taken out of context, what he’d said to lure the governor into his trap could be considered utterly disrespectful by Thut. What sense was there in upsetting the king? After all, I hadn’t told the general everything I’d done to help his plan succeed either. He’d have been mortified had he known the whole truth.
“I offered the governor two hundred baskets of grain, Majesty, as a token of your friendship. He accepted my gift and sent to his city for porters.”
“How did buying his friendship lead to the capture of Yapu?” Thut asked, confused.
“While we waited for his porters to return, I got the governor and his men very drunk. The porters arrived, took up the baskets, then carried them back to Yapu.” General Djehuty paused dramatically, took a long drink of wine, scanned the faces of king and officers. “Little did Governor Jopa know that each basket held one of Your Majesty’s soldiers hidden under the grain.”
“The enemy himself smuggled our soldiers into his city?” Thut asked wonderingly, then laughed with delight. “This tale will be told down the years, General!” He turned to the scribe. “Are you getting all of this, Tjanuni?”
“I am, Majesty.”
“Go on!” Thut ordered.
“Once the baskets were well on their way to Yapu, I approached Governor Jopa in friendship and, when but a few steps away, struck him on the temple with your cane, knocking him senseless.” Djehuty held up the cane and inspected it. “I must remember to wash his blood off later. Anyway, my men simultaneously fell on his men, and in moments all were captive. It was by now dark, and I summoned my remaining three hundred men from camp. We hurried across the plain and slipped close to the city gate. In the meantime, the baskets had been taken to the governor’s storehouse and shut inside.” Djehuty glanced at me. “The King’s Great Companion Meryetneith then cut the baskets open and freed my soldiers and led them to the city gate.”
“You let Mery be taken into Yapu by the enemy?” Thut asked, his brow furrowing. His face took on a hint of red. “So this explains your condition,” he said to me. His eyes told me he was appalled that I’d been put at risk. “Explain yourself, General!”
Djehuty was in a delicate position. He’d been ordered to keep the enemy inside his city; instead, he had been cajoled into gambling with my life to take it. He and Nefer and I had discussed the issue briefly on the march earlier in the day, knowing it would come up. If left to our own devices, neither he nor I would have mentioned my involvement. But two hundred of Djehuty’s soldiers had seen me in the storehouse, and so the fact I’d been present couldn’t be kept secret from Thut. Soldiers talked among themselves, after all, and they were already talking about me. I’d earned their respect for what I’d done, keeping them from being imprisoned and leading them safely through the city. The two hundred from the warehouse had told the rest of Djehuty’s men on our march north; by now, I supposed, the story was sweeping through Thut’s camp as well. Everything had turned out as we’d planned in the end, but only because the gods had watched over us.
“I convinced Governor Jopa to send me into Yapu with the baskets, Majesty,” I interjected before Djehuty
could reply. “I didn’t consult with General Djehuty beforehand. I did it on the spur of the moment.” My eyes met Thut’s. “I knew the General would tell me no. But you know I always take matters into my own hands.”
“What were you doing in the midst of the enemy at all?” Thut asked heatedly.
“Blame yourself, Majesty,” I said, trusting that putting him on the defensive would relieve the pressure on Djehuty, knowing I could get away with talking to Thut frankly. “You took all the army’s translators with you to Megiddo, after all. I was in the general’s pavilion because I could speak the governor’s language and General Djehuty had no one else to rely on.”
“An oversight that won’t be repeated,” Thut growled.
“As I helped serve the meal, I overheard many of the enemy’s unguarded comments. I learned that Yapu is a city of winding streets and that the storehouse lay in its middle. I feared your soldiers, carried in baskets and unable to see the path from storehouse to gate would, once they were freed, become lost in the dark. General Djehuty’s plan would fail. Someone had to serve as our soldiers’ eyes. Who’d suspect a woman of evil intention?”
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