The Amarnan Kings, Book 2: Scarab - Smenkhkare

by Overton, Max

  The Babylonian ambassador was on his feet now, resplendent in his long woolen robes and tall, braided hat that, together with the matted, greasy hair and plaited beard, sent cascades of sweat pouring off the man's face. The ambassador paused in his speech and pulled a linen cloth from beneath his robes, wiping his face. King Aziru made a comment that was lost in the general noise of the hundred men in the hall, but was evidently heard, though not appreciated, by the ambassador. He glowered, but was careful not to direct his outrage at the king. Putting away the cloth, he resumed his speech.

  Jebu listened attentively, dismissing the platitudes, the praise phrases and the empty promises he had heard before, centering his attention on the nub of the speech. He found himself scowling and hurriedly calmed his features, putting up a hand to his mouth in pretence of finding a distasteful morsel of food. Casually he leaned over to the younger man seated on his right.

  "As I predicted, Ephras. The Babylonian king will not support us."

  The younger man glanced hurriedly to see whether they were overheard. "He did not say that, General."

  "Listen to what he does not say." He waved a hand dismissively and sat up straight again.

  The speech came to an end and the over-heated ambassador bowed, taking his seat again. King Aziru thanked the mighty kingdom of Babylon for their gifts--he gestured to a small open chest in front of the raised throne--and for their considered reply to his inquiries. Aziru leaned close to his chamberlain who stood attentively beside the throne and muttered a few words. The chamberlain stepped forward, angling his stance so as not to present his back to the king, and addressed the feasters.

  "King Aziru calls on Satturata, the ambassador from the illustrious kingdom of Mitanni to answer the king's question." The chamberlain stepped back as a short man arose from one of the seats and strode forward, bowing to the throne.

  "My lord Aziru, high sovereign of Amurru, suzerain of the disputed lands of Sinai, my lord and master Mattivaza sends his greetings and presents a gift of a twenty fine fleeces of wool." He gestured and a string of slaves ran into the hall, each bearing washed wool fleeces in their arms. Satturata waited until the slaves had withdrawn, leaving a gleaming white pile of fleeces in front of the throne, before resuming. "Further, he gives to lord Aziru, twenty fine horses and twenty bulls from his own herds." Satturata smiled and bowed again. "In deference to the customs of Amurru, I have left the livestock outside."

  "Good of him," Jebu growled. "You notice the son of a...you notice he brings nothing that will aid the war."

  Ephras leaned across, an expression of concern wrinkling his weathered face. "General, have a care," he muttered. "The horses will be welcome, surely?"

  "Spavined nags the lot of them, I expect." Jebu said loudly, smiling at the men around him. He lifted his wine cup toward the ambassadors before sipping from it.

  The Mitannian ambassador ignored the interruption and continued his speech, taking many minutes to say very little, before sitting down again. The Assyrian ambassador, Arik-Den-Enlil, followed, with much the same performance. Several copper ornaments and a few antique weapons joined the small pile of gift offerings in front of the Amurru king.

  Jebu drained his cup once more and gestured to the attendant to bring more. He belched, and remarked loudly to the other men at his table, "It appears we have no real friends." Heads turned, including that of Aziru. The king looked at his general from under hooded eyes for a long time while the room hushed, waiting for his reaction. Aziru turned to his chamberlain again and the Hittite ambassador was introduced.

  Mutaril got to his feet and bowed deeply before Aziru, then turned toward the hall and sketched a bow toward the Amorite general. "Mighty king Aziru, lords and ambassadors, and esteemed General Jebu, I too bring the greetings of my monarch, Shubbiluliuma and an answer to King Aziru's question." Mutaril paused and advanced further into the open space in front of the throne. He walked slowly over to the gift offerings of the other ambassadors and stirred the trinkets and fleeces with one foot. "I share General Jebu's disdain for this refuse. If these ambassadors from Babylon, Mitanni and Assyria had insulted my king with such offerings, they would have left their heads with them."

  The hall erupted into a roar of anger and applause, the ambassadors rising to their feet in a rage. The Mitannian strode out into the middle, red in the face and demanded of Aziru an apology for such behavior.

  The king raised a hand and waited for the hall to quiet. As the sound died away he spoke in a soft voice, encouraging everyone to strain to hear him.

  "You ask an apology of me, Satturata? Have you not been listening? It is Mutaril the Hittite who draws attention to your insult, not I."

  The Mitannian stuttered and paled as he realized the path that unconsidered anger had set him on. He bowed and gestured toward Mutaril. "My apologies, King Aziru, if I seemed to imply you were at fault. I merely sought to have this man's tongue curbed. He insults both my master and you when he claims you are held in low esteem by Mitanni." An angry agreement came from the Babylonian and Assyrian ambassadors.

  "I will decide when and if I have been insulted. Now be seated, Satturata, I would hear the words of my brother Shubbiluliuma." The ambassador bowed again and resumed his seat, casting angry glances at the assembled listeners. When all was quiet again, Aziru inclined his head toward Mutaril. "Please continue, ambassador."

  Mutaril smiled and bowed again. "Shubbiluliuma, king of the Hittites and overlord of the Hittite Confederacy sends his greetings to his brother Aziru, son of Abdiashirta of the Amorites. He reminds my lord Aziru that the land of Hatti has been a loyal ally of Amurru these last ten years and more. Hatti has supplied gold and corn and meat that Aziru might pursue his just and honourable claim of lordship over southern Syria and Sinai, long held by the usurping kings of Kemet. All that Hatti has asked in return is the loyal friendship of Amurru. Is this not so, your majesty?"

  Aziru's chamberlain leaned over and spoke a few words in the king's ear, listening to the reply, before he spoke to the hall. "Aziru, king of the Amorites, recognizes the debt of friendship he owes to his brother Shubbiluliuma."

  Mutaril ignored the outraged whisperings from the ambassador's table behind him and bowed once more. "Lord Aziru, my king answers your question thus--I remember my friends in time of plenty and of want. Ask, and you shall receive it." The ambassador turned and clapped his hands. Through the main doors of the hall trotted a stream of slaves, each laboring under a burden he held in both arms. "As a token of my king's respect and affection for his brother Aziru, king Shubbiluliuma sends a gift worthy of a king."

  A buzz of voices broke out as the slaves passed the first tables and the gathering caught sight of their burdens. The voices rose to a roar as the first of them placed his burden on the steps of the throne dais, hurrying back and out of the way. Others followed, as the hall erupted in shouts of wonder and applause. Even Aziru got slowly to his feet, staring at the golden bricks piled in front of him.

  "Gold," Mutaril called out clearly above the noise. "Gold worth a thousand times the gifts from lesser kings, Aziru."

  The chamberlain picked up one of the bricks and brought it to Aziru. The king held it, stroking it with a gleam of greed in his eye. "Thank you, Mutaril...I send my thanks to my brother Shubbiluliuma, and assure him that the friendship gift he bestows on me will be repaid a hundred-fold."

  The feast broke up into a milling mass of nobles, senior officers and courtiers, all wanting to see the fortune in gold close up, avarice and lust showing in almost every face. The ambassadors left quickly, shamed before the gathering and urgently wanting to send news of this extraordinary gift to their masters. In this they were unlucky, as the chamberlain ordered the gates of the city locked, denying exit to any until the wishes of the king became known.

  Jebu, with Ephras keeping close company, moved out into the hall as servants cleared the remnants of the feast and pulled the tables back to the edges of the room. Other servants strewed clean, scented
sand on the floors, where hounds fought and snarled over scraps. Few men met Jebu's eyes, turning aside or suddenly becoming engrossed in a conversation as he neared.

  "That was not wise, General," Ephras murmured. "You will not get another appointment by being rude to the king or his guests."

  "He is not angry with me, Ephras. You saw the way the ambassadors acted. I was merely saying what he already thought."

  Mutaril approached through the throng, people bowing respectfully and moving out of his path. The Hittite ambassador nodded and smiled. "Well met, General. I enjoyed your comments tonight."

  Jebu jerked his head toward the dais and the ring of guards surrounding the gold. "You surprised me there, your Excellency."

  "Oh? How so? Hatti has always been a friend of Amurru."

  "A friend, yes, but one notably slow in giving gold."

  Mutaril sighed. "Your words pain me, General. My king has always tried to provide your king with the means to resist Kemet."

  "Enough to resist, but never enough that we might accomplish our aims."

  The ambassador looked at Jebu carefully, lowering his voice so that they could not be overheard. "You are an intelligent man--and an able soldier. Why don't you tell me why that might be?"

  Jebu paused, considering for several moments before uttering a bark of amusement. "Shubbiluliuma guards his borders by using Amorite troops. He weakens the enemy by fostering Aziru's claims over southern Syria, yet he can still pretend to be a loyal ally of Kemet and accept gifts of gold from their king."

  Mutaril smiled. "General, you are wasted in the army. With your insights you should be a diplomat."

  "Is that where the gold came from? Kemet?"

  "A delicious irony, is it not? Their king Akhenaten bleeds his army dry to provide the gold he gifts to his loyal allies."

  "I hear the situation is changing in the south though. This new king of theirs, the king of Upper Kemet...I forget his name..."

  "Djeserkheperu."

  "Yes, that is it. I hear he is striving to return Kemet to the old ways. He is strengthening the army and I would wager the gifts of gold will cease."

  "Too little, too late, General. With this gold, Aziru will be able to sweep all before him."

  Jebu stroked his beard thoughtfully. "What of their General Paatenemheb? Gold will not sweep him away."

  Mutaril smiled again and inclined his head. "That will be your problem. I bid you goodnight, General...Lieutenant." The Hittite ambassador swept past, toward the throne and Aziru. Jebu watched him go, a small smile on his lips.

  "He is right, Ephras. With gold, much can be accomplished."

  "But he is wrong about it being your problem, General. Surely he knows you were...well, relieved of your command?"

  "I would imagine a man like him would be well-informed." Jebu shrugged. "Never mind, we will find out soon enough. Let us find some more wine. This talking is thirsty work." He led the way over to the slaves by the stacked amphorae and took two filled cups, passing one to his lieutenant. "Drink, Ephras, either to drown our grief or celebrate our good fortune. Either way, we can get drunk." Draining his cup he refilled it and moved toward the sound of music and merriment.

  In the open area of the great hall furthest from the throne dais, musicians had set up camp and were sending out a rhythmic pulse that caught at the senses. Drums beat and sistra rattled, overlain by the wild scaling of a flute. A score of slave girls dressed in little to nothing, swung and gyrated in the open space, a few of them tumbling and leaping. The surrounding men, for the only women that attended formal feasts were entertainers, hooted and yelled, faces flushed with drink and lust. One of the tumblers miscalculated and landed close to the circle of onlookers. A man reached out and grabbed her, hauling her close and nuzzling her naked breasts with his greasy bearded face. The girl screamed with laughter and dragged the man to one side, through the crowd to a side door. Others followed and as the girls paired off, fresh dancers emerged to keep up the entertainment.

  "Not to your liking, Jebu?"

  Jebu swung round and cocked his head at the short-bearded man of middling height in front of him. "I know the voice, but I do not recognise you."

  A gap-toothed smile broke through the hair. "Nor should you. It has been a while, Jebu. The Gezer road. A caravan with gold under the copper in panniers."

  "Ashraz?" Jebu's eyes opened wider. "It has been a while." His eyes flicked to the plain black robes and unornamented hands, the lack of distinguishing features. "The last time I saw you, you were a spy. Are you still?"

  "I would not be a very good one if I admitted it to everyone I met." Ashraz stepped back as a drunken man lurched by, the naked girl on his arm bumping into him. Ashraz delivered a sound slap to a naked buttock and turned away grinning. "Let's just say I keep my eyes and ears open."

  "Fair enough. And what brings you here today? Or shouldn't I ask?"

  Ashraz eyed Ephras coolly. "Who's this? He looks familiar but I can't place him."

  "Ephras. He is my lieutenant. You actually met him on the Gezer road, though he was only a pup at the time."

  "You trust him?" Jebu nodded. "Good enough for me." Ashraz took Jebu by the arm and steered him out of the way of the revelers. Ephras followed a few paces behind. When they reached the wall, the spy turned his back to it and surveyed the room for a few minutes. "I like walls," he said matter-of-factly. "Good safe things to have behind one. And yes, you can ask."

  Jebu took a moment to understand what the spy was talking about. Then he nodded. "What are you doing here today, Ashraz?"

  "Guarding the gold."

  "You knew about it? Before Mutaril brought it in?"

  "Of course. I suggested it to Shubbiluliuma in the first place. Of course, he won't remember me. He'll think it was his own idea, but something had to be done and I judged the time was right."

  "Right for what?" Ephras asked.

  "War."

  Ephras looked at Ashraz, then at Jebu. "What war?"

  "There is always war," said Jebu softly. "But I have it in mind you mean something special."

  Ashraz looked over to where the girls were still tumbling and dancing. "A fine crop of slaves," he commented judiciously. "I fancy some of them are Kemetu too. Have you ever had a Kemetu woman, Jebu?"

  "Can't say that I have. What did you mean about war?"

  "You should try one." Ashraz smiled and picked his teeth with a long, blackened fingernail. "Not as inventive as a Babylonian, nor as abandoned as the sluts of Byblos, but they have something else." He faced toward the girls but he was watching Jebu.

  "What?" Ephras' voice was rough with sudden emotion. "What do they have?"

  Ashraz laughed. "I'm glad someone here thinks about the normal pleasures of life. You are too wrapped up in your army, Jebu. Ah..." He snapped his fingers. "I was forgetting, you do not have an army." Grabbing Ephras by the arm, he turned him toward the tumbling girls and pointed. "See the one on the left, yes, that one, the one who has just completed the somersault...she is Kemetu. Tell me how I know."

  "She has coppery skin."

  "Pah, so do other girls. Watch her boy, think about it." Ashraz turned back to where Jebu was leaning against the wall, playing with the tassels in his belt. "Why is it you do not have a command, O General of Aziru's army?"

  "I feel sure you are about to tell me."

  Ashraz sighed and stretched, grimacing as he grabbed at his side. "I'm not as young as I once was, Jebu."

  "Age comes to us all, Ashraz." A smile quirked Jebu's lips. "Not always wisdom though."

  "What did you think would happen to you after losing your army to Paatenemheb? Did you honestly think Aziru would just turn round and offer you another one?"

  Jebu's jaw muscles clenched and he looked away. "My army was raw and untrained. They fled before the hounds only to fall to the huntsmen's spears."

  "A bad commander blames his men," Ashraz murmured. "Is that not how the proverb runs?"

  Jebu's hands curled into tight
fists and his nostrils flared. "I am not blaming my men," he grated. "I state a fact. I was given that army only a week before and asked to perform miracles. If I had had time to train them..."

  "What a pity you do not have men now, Jebu. You surely have had time to train any army." The smile on Ashraz's face was crueler, his voice edged with scorn.

  "Three years, Ashraz," Jebu said softly. "I have spent three years wasting my time recruiting farm lads and townsmen who would neither know their members from a spear, nor which one to stick in a woman, or which in an enemy. Then I did not even have the satisfaction of whipping them into shape. I had to turn them over to others."

  "Yet you stay? Have you not thought about hiring yourself out? There are many kings who would pay good gold to secure the services of a seasoned warrior. You might not be a general but you would have a command again."

  Jebu shook his head. "I serve my king."

  Ashraz clapped his hands together slowly, several people looking around before turning back to the entertainment. "Good Jebu. Poor but loyal."

  "You mock me, Ashraz. Why? Or are you for sale to the highest bidder?"

  "No, but I choose carefully those whom I serve." The spy pursed his lips and edged closer to the general. "I do have an offer for you though, one that I think you should consider."

  "I have it!" Ephras called. "Look, Ashraz." The young man grabbed Ashraz and pointed to where the tumbling slave girls were walking on their hands and feet, bodies bent backward in a bow. All displayed a rough triangle of dark hair between their thighs, all except one, and she also had coppery skin. "Kemetu women are hairless."

  "Not naturally, boy. They shave." Ashraz looked back at Jebu's impassive face. "I need to talk to the general in private. Why don't you go and sample the Kemetu girl? I guarantee you an unforgettable experience."