by Overton, Max
A horse and rider came over a ridge far to their left, down the great valley, and spurred toward the lone chariot. As the rider drew closer, they could see it was one of the many spies sent out days beforehand, scouring the ground ahead of the army for news of the enemy. The man reined in his horse hard, sending it down on its withers, dust and gravel showering out. Leaping off the trembling beast, the rider threw himself down on one knee before his general
"Kemetu, my lord," he gasped. "Not five miles from here."
"Are they approaching?"
"No, my lord, but neither have they camped."
Jebu looked up and scanned the skyline anxiously, but all he could see were his own troops still laboring at their tasks and the first of the army vanguard. Turning back to the spy he gestured him to his feet and tossed him a flask of watered wine. The man drank thirstily before belching loudly and wiping his lips and beard with one hand. "My thanks, lord. I needed that."
"Do the Kemetu know we are here?"
"Possibly, my lord, but I think they do not know exactly, just that we are close." The man grinned. "We found a few scouts but none of them made it home. That will tell them we are close, but not where."
"Good man." Jebu reached down and took the flask back. "Rejoin your men, you have done well." He handed the flask to Ephras as the man galloped off, back down the valley to find his unit. "Things are coming together." Urging the horses into motion once more, Jebu wheeled the chariot and walked it back toward the disturbed earth at the head of the valley.
"Ephras, if you had a choice of the time of day to meet the Kemetu on this field, when would you choose?"
The young man looked around, then back at his general, frowning. "I suppose when my men were rested and the Kemetu worn out from marching. If our army gets here soon, they will be tired, so we must camp until morning."
Jebu nodded. "A reasonable answer, but there is a better one. Where is the sun?"
"Down the valley."
"And how long to sunset?"
"Three hours maybe."
"So if we meet the Kemetu in the late afternoon, we will have the sun in our eyes; whereas if we meet them in the early morning, it will shine in theirs."
Ephras looked doubtful. "How will you make the Kemetu attack you when you choose?"
"Wait and see."
The first units of the Amorite army arrived in the valley just over an hour later and Jebu directed their officers as to the disposition of the troops. More arrived, strung out over several miles, and were patiently positioned. When most of his army was present, Jebu looked up at the sinking sun, its deep yellow rays turning the bare grass of the valley plain a gleaming gold. He called Simas to him.
"Simas, I need a cool head this evening. The Kemetu army is down there." He pointed into the lowering sun. "I want you to take your corps, a thousand men, and move down to meet them."
"The plan you made appears clearer to me now I see the field of battle, Jebu, but I do not see how attacking the enemy with so few men gives us victory. Did not your plan call for a battle here?"
"I do not want you to attack, Simas. Walk your men slowly, as if tired after a day's march and do not appear to notice the Kemetu until you are sure they have seen you. Then pull back but stay in sight and crowd together as if you expect an attack."
"What if they do attack? I cannot fight ten times my number on my own."
"They will not. It will be almost dark when you get there and Kemetu do not like to fight at night. Take wood with you and make campfires, let them know you are there. Then wait until the dark before the dawn before coming away in silence. The Kemetu must not know you have gone until first light."
Simas saluted and marched his men away. Jebu dismissed them from his mind and set about having his men fed. He would not allow a proper camp to be made, but allowed each troop and unit to make its own small fire and cook a meal. Bedrolls were laid out around the fires and under the watchful eyes of sentries, the men tried to sleep, putting the anxiety of the coming battle out of their minds as best they could.
Jebu drove his chariot out into the great valley plain until he was alone in the darkness. He looked back towards his army, seeing a constellation of tiny flickering stars littering the indistinct horizon--the fires that shielded them from the outer darkness. In the other direction, down the valley, lay only blackness and silence. Dropping the reins of the horses over their heads, he let them graze while he sat in the short grass and listened to the almost complete silence, broken only by the sighing of a soft breeze through the grass and the rhythmic rip of grass torn out by sharp teeth. A soft thumping noise from near the chariot brought, a few moments later, the sharp ammoniacal smell of fresh dung.
The stars slowly crawled across the sky, moonless until near dawn. Somewhere down the valley a jackal called, long and lonely, echoed by another. Jebu shivered, remembering the Kemetu had a jackal god. He did not doubt that tomorrow night the god, and his creatures, would be feasting on the dead. With a measure of luck, and the will of the gods, good Amorite gods, the dead would mostly be Kemetu.
The moon rose, its pale waning light doing little to dispel the shadows of night. Behind it, low in the east over the back of his waiting army, the sky faded toward gray. With the gray light came the sound of footfall on the grass, many and moving quickly. The horses, standing lock-legged in the chariot traces with heads down, dozing, lifted them and stared, ears pricked forward. Jebu rose to his feet, joints stiff, his tunic and trousers damp with dew. He yawned and faced into the still dark west, whence came the rhythmic sound of men on the move.
Out of the shadows came a figure, half running with sword drawn. The figure started on catching sight of the chariot and the figure by it, half-raising the weapon before recognition swept over him. With a sheepish nod, the man moved on, followed by another, then three, more, until the plain around him seemed alive with pale forms as if ghosts rose from the dark earth beneath.
"General."
Jebu half turned as Simas approached from his left. "What news?" he asked softly.
"They will come," Simas said somberly. "And more than we thought. I hope you are ready for them, General."
"What happened?" Jebu glanced at the soldiers streaming back past him in the growing light before turning his attention back to his officer.
"We found a regiment getting ready to pitch camp. We pulled back, making a show of it and they followed slowly, not really trying to close with us but keeping us in sight as the light faded. Just before dark we saw others come up behind them. We lit fires and posted sentries, making a lot of noise for a while then quieting down. At moonrise we slipped off, silently, leaving our fires smoldering."
Jebu nodded. "You did well, Simas. Now let us hope they take the bait."
Simas grinned. "Oh, they will. Just before nightfall we loosed a volley and killed a few. I think they'll want to avenge their comrades."
Jebu took Simas up into the chariot and coaxed the horses into first a stiff walk then as their muscles loosened, into a trot toward his encamped army. The sky ahead of them paled first then reddened as the sun neared the horizon. Strung across the valley, the vast body of men awoke and greeted the new day with a growing chorus of sounds. Metal clashed and leather creaked. The snorting of horses grew louder as they stamped and blew, shaking the night chill out of their limbs. Plumes of vapor arose, from breath and from urine. Standing to under arms meant no facilities so men and horses obeyed the calls of nature where they stood. Vapor joined the mists that gathered in the lower part of the valley, white and still as if a lake had formed there.
The lone chariot raced now toward the side of the valley and the slight rise on the northern edge where Jebu had made his command post.
Simas' eyes narrowed. "You do not lead the charge, General?"
"No. I will be where I can see what is happening. Look to your own unit, Simas and follow my signal." He slowed the chariot and Simas jumped off, hurrying across to where his men were forming up after their
run up the valley. Jebu continued on to the rise and halted, jumping down and handing the reins to a charioteer who stood waiting. He called Ephras to his side. "Is everything arranged?"
Ephras stifled a yawn and nodded; his eyes red and bleary. "Yes, General." He pointed at a group of men standing nearby with tall poles lying in the grass with different coloured banners lying rumpled beside them.
"The men know what to do?"
"They have followed your instructions exactly, sir. Nothing can go wrong."
"Anything can go wrong, Ephras. Learn that if you learn nothing else. This is Horemheb's army we face, even if the son of a whore is not leading them." Jebu shook his head and smiled wryly. "However, my plan is a good one and if the gods smile on us, we will have us a mountain of heads today."
"They come, sir," quavered one of the junior officers. "The Kemetu."
"Be easy, Martas," Jebu growled. "You'll have your opportunity soon."
The lake of mist swirled and flowed, and heads appeared, bobbing slightly as they came. Minutes later the bodies appeared under them, the morning sun glinting off the bronze of the spear tips and swords, the gold of the officers. The tramp of marching feet grew audible to those who waited and a light breeze blew from the lower reaches of the valley, dispelling the mist and bringing with it the wail and bellow of the war trumpets. Jebu shivered at their call but was careful to keep his face impassive. He felt the eyes of his officers upon him.
The Kemetu army poured up the valley in a broad river of men before suddenly halting with a dull thump of hundreds of bare feet stamping into the soil. The units behind continued, veering to left and right before likewise halting. Behind all three, the last of the legions spread out in a thin line, not more than six or seven men deep, across the breadth of the valley. Behind the men could be seen a mass of horses and chariots. The army halted and the martial music died away into a breathless anticipation.
"Does anyone recognise the banners?" Jebu asked.
Ephras pointed. "That's Ptah in the centre, Heru on their left wing, but I cannot recognise the far one."
"Re is on the right," Martas added. "And Set in the rear."
"Horemheb's dog Paramessu is commander of the Re legion," Ephras mused. "Will he lead them today, or stay back to control the whole battle?"
"So we come to it, gentlemen," Jebu said briskly. "Does everyone understand what is to happen?" He scanned the officers around him, nodding grimly at the determined looks. "Good, then let us begin."
Martas signaled to the young men with their banners and as the first full rays of the morning sun burst over the hill behind them, striking low into the eyes of the Kemetu, a yellow banner flew high above the Amorite command post.
The centre of the Amorite army opened and fifty war chariots thundered out, picking up speed as they careened down the gentle slope of the valley toward the enemy.
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Chapter Fifteen
Scarab and Khu left the North Palace by the main gate, avoiding the attentions of User-Re, the guard. The king still claimed he commanded loyalty within the town and gave them a ring as a token of his authority. It seemed to work, as it brought help from one of the palace horse grooms who pointed them toward one of the principal artists of the city. The sculptor Neb, the groom said, always worked late in his workshop in one of the streets behind the main palace, torches blazing in a large room filled with slabs and blocks of stone--sandstone, alabaster, granite and marble. The steady hammer and chip of metal on stone could be heard a street away and drowned out the sound of their first tentative knocks. Waiting for a pause in the fusillade of blows, Khu hammered again on the wooden workshop door. The hammering started again then faltered. Faint footsteps approached from the inside, and the latch on the door lifted, a pale face peering out through the crack.
"Who is it? I haven't got time to waste."
Scarab held up the king's ring. "Do you recognise this?"
The man reached out a hand and grabbed it from Scarab, ducking back inside and slamming the door closed. A minute passed, then another, and Khu looked at Scarab with a scowl. He lifted his fist to beat on the door again.
"All right, all right," the man grumbled from inside the workshop, unlatching the door and standing aside to let the young man and woman in. "The ring is genuine, so I will give you help if I can." He eyed the two of them in their stained and worn kilts, the side of his mouth lifting in disdain. "Slaves? Or maybe common servants?" His eyes opened wide suddenly. "Did you steal this?" he said, opening his hand to reveal the ring.
Scarab shook her head and reaching out, took back the ring, slipping it onto the second finger of her right hand.
"How dare you?" the man snapped. "That is Akhenaten's ring and none save the king can wear it."
"He will not mind. I am the king's sister."
The man frowned and stared, first at Scarab, then at Khu. "And I suppose he is the prince Tutankhaten?"
"Do not be ridiculous. This ring is enough token for you to help us, or should I tell the king that Neb the sculptor refused to aid his sister?"
Neb cocked his head to one side and peered at Scarab. "Curious," he murmured. "There is the look of the old king Nebmaetre about you, and if that..." The sculptor broke off and grabbed the young woman's hand, dragging her over to a block of sandstone. Khu hurried after, his hand on the hilt of his small knife, secreted in the belt roll of his kilt.
Neb's eyes flicked over the carving in the sandstone block, then back to Scarab's face. "You do not have the long face or the protruding skull, but the shape of the eyes, the lips, the nose...you are kin to the king." The sculptor's hand traced the relief portrait of Akhenaten, his queen and daughters in the act of giving homage to the living Aten. "You are not the queen, nor one of the daughters..."
"I told you, Neb. I am Akhenaten's sister..."
"Princess Beketaten." Neb dropped to his knees in the powdery dust of the workshop floor. "Forgive my impertinence, great lady. I did not look to see you in the City of the Sun. I thought you in Waset."
"I came to see the king." Scarab motioned to Neb to rise. "But now I see it was a wasted trip."
Neb dusted the rock flour off his body, raising clouds of the fine debris. "You are talking about the imprisonment of the king."
"You know of this?"
"Everyone knows, my lady."
"And yet you do nothing?" Khu interrupted. "He is guarded by what? Fifty soldiers--a hundred? Why do the townspeople not rise up and free him?"
"Two hundred," Neb said quietly. "Of the Amun legion. They have no love of the Aten, or of his people. We cannot congregate in numbers greater than ten, save to praise Amun in his new temple. We cannot see the king. We cannot worship as we used to." The little sculptor shrugged and ran his fingers through his dust laden hair, releasing another billowing cloud. Coughing and sneezing, he led Scarab and Khu across the room to some makeshift furniture in one corner.
Neb dusted off a chair for Scarab and indicated another for Khu. "The king is father to the people, lady. How can we turn everything on its head by rescuing the king? Even if we had the means to do it?"
Scarab nodded. "I understand. I think in all Kemet there is only one man who can overturn this injustice. My friend and I will seek out General Horemheb in the north. He has the army behind him and will not leave the king in captivity."
"How will you find him, my lady?"
"He will be in Zarw, the garrison city, or east of there on the borders with Syria and Sinai, maybe even in Kenaan. People up there will know, but first we have to get there. Will you help us Neb?"
"I, lady?" Neb's jaw dropped. "How can I help?"
"The king said you would give us assistance. That you were loyal."
"To death, my lady, but how can I help? I have neither the skills to fight, nor the influence to sway others."
"Clothes," Khu rasped. "Do you have clothes we can wear? And gold? We can find a boat north to Ineb Hedj if we can pay our far
e and if we look the part."
"Clothes I have, but..." Neb looked at Khu's tall figure. "...whether they will fit you is another matter. For you, my lady, I believe I can do a little better. My sister sometimes lives here when she fights with her husband." Neb grinned. "Wedded bliss she does not possess, for all her airs and graces...what I mean, my lady, is that she has left two gowns here. Not what you would be used to in the palace, but in good repair and respectable."
"Thank you, Neb. I shall remember your kindness to the king. He will reward you many-fold in happier times."
"And gold?" Khu reminded the little sculptor. "We must have our passage to Ineb Hedj."
Neb nodded and walked over to the corner of the room, opening a small battered wooden box. He removed some rags and scraps of papyrus before unrolling a cloth bundle secreted in the bottom of the box. Gold gleamed in the folds of the cloth.
"The king himself gave me this over four years ago," Neb said softly. "A chain of honour of twenty deben of fine gold, for a sculpture I made of the queen Nefertiti before her disappearance. I have lived on it for those last four years and now there are but two links left." He held them up in his hands, gazing at them fondly for several minutes before turning and handing them both to Khu. "Take them. They came from the king, it is only right they serve him now."
"We cannot take the last of your gold, Neb," Scarab said.
"We need it," Khu muttered, clenching his fists around the two links.
"Please, my lady. There is little enough I can do. Let me at least set you on the path to finding justice for the king."
In the pre-dawn darkness, Scarab and Khu found themselves down by the docks once more, this time clothed decently, if not in fine raiment, and with considerable wealth in a purse slung around Khu's waist. They kept a wary eye out for thieves but it seemed that even the lawless had decided sleep was to be preferred to wandering the empty streets. Khu found a spot out of the chill breeze off the river, in the lea of a building, and they settled down to wait the hours until dawn.