by Overton, Max
"We should have waited in the sculptor's workshop," Khu grumbled. "At least there we would be warm."
"I did not like to impose on him further. We already have his clothes and his gold."
A wash of gray light gradually revealed the river and a strangely lessened foreshore. The water lapped fitfully almost up to the base of the docks, green and cold in the wan light of the early dawn. City sounds intruded as the people woke to a new day of work. Softly at first, the murmur of voices and the muted clatter of wood on stone, the clinking of cooking pots on hearth stones, gradually grew in strength and frequency. Smoke tickled the nostrils and the aromas of bread, fresh from the ovens, mingled interestingly with less wholesome smells as each family emptied out the night soil into the drains that led to the river. An old man moved near the docks, busying himself with a long rope, easing the kinks out of it and coiling it. From time to time he looked down at the water near his feet, moving a small stone upward at intervals.
Khu watched with curiosity before suddenly nodding. "The river is rising," he exclaimed. "The floods are upon us. I had forgotten it was time."
"They are early," Scarab replied. "In Waset, the flood was not expected for another half month. How is that going to affect our journey to Ineb Hedj?"
"We have the means to hire a boat and buy food too, but I'm not sure it would be a good idea to be conspicuous here in Akhet-Aten. There are troops of Amun, and hence of Ay, present. We do not want to attract attention."
"We have to have a boat, Khu. We will have to risk it."
"There is another way. If we get someone like that old man to ferry us across the river before the docks get busy, we can get to Akhet-Re without undue notice."
Scarab pondered Khu's suggestion. "I can understand you want to see your family again, but how does that really help us? The villagers are farmers, not sailors."
Khu grinned. "So I have found an aspect of the common life you have not yet learned, noble lady? The harvest is in and the village will be selling a lot of their produce to the cities. Here in Akhet-Aten of course, but also downriver. We can ride with a load of cucumbers and melons to Ineb Hedj."
The old man did not own a boat, but his nephew did, and before the docks became really busy, Scarab and Khu found themselves rocking in a small boat as the nephew sculled away from the eastern bank and into the broad flow of the river. It was swifter than they remembered from the day before, and the middle was discoloured, muddy and swirling as the runoff from the distant source waters swelled the Life of Kemet. The rower cursed, battling futilely against the current, his efforts slopping muddy water over the edges of the boat.
"You will not get paid if you tip us in," Khu said sharply.
The man cursed again but gave up his uneven struggle against the fast-flowing water, angling instead across the current, allowing the boat to be swept downriver, its shadow on the water stretched out before them in the early morning sunlight. They landed at last on a muddy bank almost out of sight of the city. The man helped Scarab out of the boat and stood waiting expectantly. Khu fumbled in his waist purse and took out one of the gold links. The man's eyes widened momentarily, but his face fell as Khu scraped off a shaving of the soft metal with his sharp knife.
"My fee is more than that," the man said sullenly, taking the sliver of gold. "I risked my life out there and I have a long and dangerous row back."
"You already have more than your boat is worth," Khu said in a flat voice. The knife he had started to return to the purse remained in his hand and he shifted his grip on it.
The man's eyes followed the movement and he shrugged; turning and pushing the tiny boat out into the relatively calm water just offshore. Safely away from Khu's knife he turned and abused the pair of them, raining down curses on their heads. He ended with a threat to tell the soldiers before bending his back to the oar and sending the little boat out into the current.
"Set take the man," Khu spat. "I should have killed him. Now he will set the soldiers on our trail."
"How?" Scarab smiled and squeezed Khu's arm. "We have done nothing suspicious and they have enough to do in the city without following up every tale of travelers with gold."
Khu nodded reluctantly and started up the bank. At the top, he scanned the surrounding countryside to get his bearings before heading off at an angle to the riverbank. After a few minutes of scrambling through long grass and Acacia scrub, they stumbled upon a narrow dirt road. Scarab looked around and smiled.
"I could be mistaken, but I think I came this way the first time I crossed the river four years ago. It was dark then but this looks vaguely familiar."
"You did," Khu confirmed. "When Min put your bloodied cloak in the river to throw off the search, he found your boat a little further downstream. He told me that night when he returned from doing it."
The fields on either side of the narrow road lay deserted, devoid of crops and workers both, dry and parched in the summer sun. Turning off the road they walked along the edge of the shallow canal that ran inland from the river. In stark contrast to the fields, the irrigation ditch lay wet and glistening, with pools of water harboring swarms of insects and tadpoles. Every few moments a tiny surge would ripple up from the direction of the river, slowly connecting the ponds into a ribbon of water. The level in the ditch slowly rose up the steep banks as they continued. The sun was halfway to the zenith before they reached the village. Dogs barked and children ran screaming from the two strangers as they walked into the space between the huts.
Faces appeared at the doors and a very old man sitting on an old tree stump in the middle of the village, looked up. He had a twisted arm and pock-marked face, his body above the brief linen flap hiding his genitals lined and wrinkled. His eyelids lifted in surprise and his toothless mouth creased into a smile. "Khu? Is that you? Khu, son of Pa-it and Asenath?"
Khu grinned and ran over to the old man, falling to his knees in front of him. "Ankhu, sir, it gladdens my heart to see you in health." He turned and beckoned Scarab. "You may remember each other. Scarab, this is Ankhu, one of the elders of my village. Ankhu, this is..."
"I remember," the old man snapped, his yellowed and rheumy eyes staring up at the young woman. "The last time she was here, the soldiers came and interrogated us. Is she bringing them again?"
"No, sir. Not this time. Nobody knows we are here. We have come to see my family."
"Then it is well you have come, young Khu, for your father Pa-it is unwell."
"Not so unwell I cannot greet my second son," rumbled a voice behind Khu. He turned with a cry of joy to find his father standing behind him, a young boy steadying the old man his father had become.
"Father!" Khu ran to him and fell on his knees, kissing his father's feet.
"Rise, my son." Pa-it's wrinkled hand ruffled Khu's long black hair. "Do you have no word of greeting for your brother?"
"Pa-it-pasherit? Little Pa-it? You have grown." Khu rose to his feet and looked down gravely at his younger brother. "I see a fine young man who is becoming the strong right arm of his father."
"Hello, Khu," little Pa-it said shyly. "I would like to come to Waset to see the King's Councilor from Akhet-Re advising the king. It must be so exciting. Nothing ever happens round here."
"He lies," Ankhu laughed. "Why just last month a dog died."
Khu joined in the laughter. "Believe me, Pa-it-pash, a quiet life in a village is better than an exciting one on the run."
"You are a fugitive?" Pa-it the elder asked. "From whom? How did this arise? I thought you were a respected Councilor."
"King Smenkhkare is dead." Khu went on to describe the events of the past few weeks, finishing with their flight from Waset and the meeting with Akhenaten. "So we must find General Horemheb. He is the only one who can stop Ay."
Pa-it looked past his son to where Scarab stood watching. Behind her, several villagers had come out to listen, standing silently as they heard about events from the wider world. "My lady Beketaten," Pa-it said quietly. "You have our sympathy fo
r the loss of your brother. He was a fine king by all accounts. We will aid you in whatever way we can."
"Is that wise?" Ankhu asked. "Remember the trouble we had last time this girl was here?"
"I am not going to turn my son away." Pa-it's voice was edged with anger. "Nor will I refuse to help the sister of the king. Her enemies are my enemies." He looked around at the villagers. "You elected me head elder. Do you accept my judgment?" Noting the nods and murmurs of agreement, Pa-it turned back toward his hut, his hand on his youngest son's shoulder. "Please come inside, my lady, Khu. I cannot offer you more than bread, water and fruit, but that we have in abundance."
Scarab entered the small hut she had last seen four years previously, looking around as she did so. "Asenath?" she asked, tentatively.
"My wife is visiting our daughter Enehy and assisting her in the birth of our third grandchild."
"Three children! But mother is well? And Imiu and Min?" Khu sat down on a wooden bench by the table, a concerned look on his face.
"Well enough. Your mother is gray-headed and no longer young, but she can at least walk unaided, whereas I must use a staff or a strong young man." Pa-it gazed fondly at his young namesake. "As for Imiu, she still works as a maid in the city and hopes to marry soon--a young scribe with prospects. Min is in Ineb Hedj. He took a boatload of our harvest down there for the better prices."
Khu struck the table with one hand and swore softly. "We have missed it then? I had hoped we could travel to Ineb Hedj on the harvest boat."
"Why do you want to go to Ineb Hedj? You just got here."
"We must find General Horemheb," Scarab explained. "He is the only man who can stop Ay and restore peace to the Kingdoms. He is somewhere on the northern or north-eastern borders. I hope to hear news of his whereabouts when we get to the northern capital."
"You have a long journey ahead of you, and no certain destination. Do you have the funds to support you?" Pa-it frowned and looked at his elder son, then back to Scarab. "The village is poor but we can probably scrape up some barley you can trade." A wry smile flitted across his lined features. "You can take as many melons as you want, but they are difficult to transport in any worthwhile number."
Scarab smiled in return. "Thank you, Pa-it. You have already given me a son who is a strong and loyal friend. I could not have survived without your friendship and help. We have a small amount of gold, sufficient to get us to Zarw at least. We just have to get there."
"The boat has gone, Scarab." Khu grumbled. "Did you not hear my father? We have missed it."
"You missed the boat with the grain and vegetables. We are sending another one tomorrow with melons and cucumbers. You are welcome to travel on that one if the master of it agrees."
"Another boat? You never send two."
"Normally, no," Pa-it said. "But for a time people have been leaving Akhet-Aten and we sell less produce there. We have a surplus and we can get higher prices downriver. We have to act fast though, as the river is rising early this year."
"Yes, we saw the level rising as we came across."
Pa-it nodded. "Tomorrow we move inland to the flood village in the foothills, but first we send the boat north. Rest here and eat something. I will send one of the young men to buy passage for you both."
"We can pay." Scarab motioned to Khu and he took out one of the links of gold. Pa-it's eyes widened as his son cut off a broad sliver of the soft metal with his bronze knife.
"That is too much."
"Then bargain with it, father. Keep the rest for the village. It has been deprived of my labor these past four years."
Pa-it nodded and picked up the sliver of gold. Taking a staff from the corner by the door, he instructed little Pa-it to tend to his brother and the princess' needs, then left. The boy rummaged through the cooking pots and chests and served up a simple but tasty meal of bread, cucumbers and radishes, with draughts of cool clear water to wash it down. As Scarab and Khu ate, he peppered them with questions about Waset and the court, wanting stories of the doings of all the great and not-so-great. In the end, Khu had to order him to be silent, just so they could finish their meal.
Clearing away the dishes, Pa-it started the questions again and Khu, who now just wanted to rest, growled at him. Scarab took the young boy off to a corner of the hut, leaving Khu to sleep, and told him stories of her childhood and the adventures she had with her brother Smenkhkare in Waset. She removed her sandals and together they relaxed on one of the straw-filled pallet beds.
Young Pa-it looked from Scarab to the softly snoring form of his brother. "Are you going to marry Khu?" he asked quietly. "I'd like you as my sister."
"I'd like you as my brother too, but it is not that simple."
"Why not? Khu likes you, I can tell."
"And I like him, Pa-it, but...well, I am sort of promised to another man."
"Oh." Pa-it sat silently for a while. "Do you love this other man?"
Scarab nodded. "Yes."
"Oh." After another long pause, Pa-it looked into Scarab's eyes. "Why are you crying?"
Scarab burst into tears, clutching the boy to her and sobbing for several minutes before she got control of herself. She felt the boy trembling in her arms. "I'm sorry, Pa-it, I didn't mean to scare you. I just miss him so much." She took a scrap of linen from a shelf and looked enquiringly at the boy before wiping her eyes and nose.
"You didn't scare me. I miss mother sometimes when she's away visiting Enehy and I feel sad--but I never cry. It must be because you are a girl."
Scarab smiled. "Yes, that must be it."
The elder Pa-it returned in the late afternoon, a serious look on his face. He woke his son Khu and sent little Pa-it off on an errand. "There are soldiers looking for you. The boat master, Kheper-Atum, says that Akhet-Aten is abuzz with rumor about a young lord and lady that fled from Waset, having stolen the Tjaty's property. They will come here eventually."
"Then we must leave." Scarab shot to her feet and looked around for her sandals.
"Sit down, my lady," Pa-it said. "You need the boat and I have persuaded the master to leave at nightfall rather than tomorrow morning. The village has been busy loading the boat all afternoon. Truth be told, I think the master is anxious to leave anyway. The river has risen nearly half a cubit."
As the sun dipped below the western cliffs, sending long shadows drifting toward the river, Scarab and Khu, accompanied by Pa-it and little Pa-it with a burning rush torch, set out for the tiny boat dock that serviced the village. They had eaten again and took with them a rush basket of bread and cooked vegetables for the journey downriver. Unseen by Khu or his family, Scarab had removed the remains of the cut gold link and hidden it in a pot in the kitchen where it would be found after they had left. Her debt to this family was considerable, and Scarab wanted to repay them in some small measure. The remaining link would be enough to get them to Zarw, after which Horemheb would provide.
The dock was in darkness, a single rush torch burning at the back of the boat and an oil lamp flickering inside a small lantern of oiled paper at the prow. The master of the boat, a small wiry man with a shock of white hair, stood by the steering oar, his fingers drumming impatiently on the stock. A young boy sat on the dock, his fingers fiddling with the coarse hemp rope that secured the boat to the shore. The current tugged at the vessel, pulling it away from the dock until the rope stretched and tightened, then slowly drifted in again. The land around the base of the dock was already under perhaps two fingers of water and Scarab and Khu splashed through the rising river to the boat.
"About bloody time," the man in the boat grumbled. "If we wait any longer the current will be too strong."
"Patience, Amentep, it is only just nightfall." He and Khu helped Scarab aboard, then the old man embraced his son and kissed him. "Look after her, Khu. She is your sacred charge."
Khu nodded. "Remember me to mother. Tell her I think of her daily." He tousled the head of his younger brother and clambered aboard.
Little
Pa-it handed him the basket of food. "May the gods be with you," he squeaked, emotion threatening to unman him. He knuckled tears away and waved as the boat boy untied the rope and leapt into the stern as the current, so long deprived of its prey, swung the heavily laden boat out into the river. Within minutes all that could be seen was the dim flare of the rush torch moving swiftly downriver. Pait took his youngest son's hand and they started back to the village across the slowly flooding fields.
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Chapter Sixteen
General Psenamy arrived in Waset a scant three days before the formal burial ceremony of Smenkhkare. The royal barge from Akhet-Aten found itself forcing its way upriver against a stronger current as the floodwaters of the annual inundation raised the level and increased the flow of water. Instead of the expected fifteen days, the journey took nearly twice as long. Several times, Psenamy considered putting in to the eastern shore and continuing the journey overland. It was only the lack of horses and a chariot for the young royal couple to travel in that dissuaded him.
The barge finally put into Waset with an exhausted crew, the oarsmen straining one final time to bring the craft creeping into the raised flood docks hard up against the city walls. The land rose more steeply on this, the eastern side and the floodwaters seldom found their way into the city past the first few streets. The mud brick buildings tended to collapse when that happened but that concerned no-one important as the dock area was one of the poorest parts of the city. The waters stretched westward like a sea, the already wide river become a vast moving lake as the low-lying flood plain to the west became inundated. The waters washed right up to and into the funerary temples and almost to the new palace of Nebmaetre. Little used since the death of the great king, Ay had prepared the rooms and halls for the arrival of the new king Tutankhaten.
For the time being, however, the prince and princess stayed in the old palace, in rooms considerably less spacious and well-appointed than the palace of Nebmaetre, but having one superlative advantage--they lay within the suite of rooms that Ay called his own. The prince would not be able to stir without the Tjaty's knowledge and no-one would have access to the prince without his permission.