Pharaoh

by Wilbur Smith

  To the first five of my men that followed me through the wicket I delegated the task of trussing up and gagging the comatose gate guards, using for the purpose the guide ropes and strips of the prisoners’ own tunics stuffed into their mouths. The men that followed them I directed to the winches in the portcullis. They seized on to the handles and wound them up with a will. The massive gates groaned and squeaked as they lifted in their channels. As soon as they were high enough the rest of our men poured under them in a solid stream, carrying their newly acquired weapons at the ready, but true to my strict instructions keeping as silent as was possible. They uttered no war cries and the sergeants gave their orders in hoarse whispers. But nevertheless the stamping of their bronze-shod sandals and the rattle of their weapons was significant. Inevitably, before all of our men were through the gates and into the city we were challenged by Panmasi’s guards, who were patrolling the inner streets of the city. They came running to investigate the sounds of metal on metal and marching feet and ran headlong into our phalanxes. The quiet streets were transformed within seconds into a bloody battleground. The bellows of the respective war cries became continuous. The shouts of ‘Long Live Utteric the Invincible!’ were met immediately by ‘Rameses Forever!’

  Our men were generally much older than the low-born country boys with which Utteric had filled his regiments, presumably because they were more malleable and bore no allegiance to Tamose and the previous regime. Neither were our men any longer as fit and strong as once they had been. But they were experienced in all the arts of war, canny and disciplined warriors who knew every street and back alley of the city in which they had lived most of their lives. In the beginning we were heavily outnumbered by the fresh young troops that came swarming out of their barracks. But my men knew how to endure. They closed their ranks, locked shields and hacked away grimly at Utteric’s legions. We sang our war songs and the population of Luxor was roused from sleep and they heard us. They heard the name Rameses and their blood stirred. Grizzle-bearded old warriors of thirty-five and even forty years of age heard the name and they remembered that they had fought for Tamose the father of this man Rameses, and that he had been a great and good Pharaoh.

  They also knew well enough the name Utteric, who still ruled them with a heavy hand. They paid the extortionate taxes he imposed upon them to fund the temples to his own glory, and they ate the stale bread that was all they could afford in place of the good red meat and wine that had once been their lot. They had remained silent when their old companions were herded together and sent up the hills to the Gates of Torment and Sorrow, never to return.

  Now when they heard the name Rameses they knew this was their last chance to make a stand for what they knew was their right. They threw aside their scrolls and the chessboards with which they had filled their empty days and shouted to their wives to bring their arms and armour from the cupboard below the stairs and to pay no heed to the red rust that bloomed upon them. Then they sallied out into the darkened streets of the city in groups of five or ten and listened for the war cry ‘Rameses Forever’. When they heard it they limped, hobbled or ran to join their old companions and took their proud place in the shield wall alongside us once more.

  We fought for the rest of that first night, and all the day that followed, but by the evening we knew we were winning and we fought harder still and the shield walls of Panmasi’s legions began to buckle before us and then to crumble, and his men began to defect in droves to Rameses’ standard when they realized he was an Egyptian Pharaoh and an attractive alternative to Utteric. Then when darkness fell the remnants of the army of Panmasi collapsed and they fled the city.

  Princess Serrena was the first person to greet us as we debouched through the open gates in pursuit of Panmasi and his shattered legions.

  When Rameses and I had decided to attack Panmasi and his minions in their stronghold behind the walls of Luxor I had used all my influence and wiles to convince Serrena that she owed it to Rameses and the rest of her family to remain safely in the Garden of Joy and to stay well clear of the battlefield. I had unashamedly pointed out that she was now a married woman and, taking into consideration the gusto which she had assumed her matrimonial duties, there was every chance that she was now a mother-to-be. The battlefield was no longer her fiefdom. Henceforth her sole concern must be the contents of her womb. Of course she had argued with me bitterly, employing all her considerable wiles to try to win a place at Rameses’ right hand in the assault on the city of Luxor. But to my surprise Rameses joined the argument on my side, demanding of his wife that she keep herself and her future offspring safely behind the walls of the Garden of Joy. At this point I expected to witness a protracted argument between these two notoriously stubborn creatures. But to my astonishment Serrena capitulated almost immediately to her new husband. I had never expected Serrena to take her maternal obligations so seriously. She had avoided the battlefield for the time being, but here she was waiting to take over at the very first sign of masculine incompetence. In retrospect, I should have expected no less of her.

  By the time of this reunion the moon was just a thin sliver in the midnight sky and the darkness was almost complete. It was impossible for us to follow the trail left by Panmasi and his surviving horsemen by its light. But I knew that if I allowed Panmasi a full twelve hours’ head start we would never catch him again. I wanted him. I wanted my vengeance on him more than I have wanted anything in my life. I recalled every act of treachery and cruelty he had ever perpetrated upon me and the persons dear to me. I remembered the mutilated body of Palmys after Panmasi and his men had finished with him, and the grief of Hui and Bekatha as they laid their son to rest. But most of all I remembered how he had beaten and humiliated Serrena and I longed to feel him squirming on the point of my sword as I ran it into his guts.

  But Panmasi was gone, and all of us were almost played out. We had fought relentlessly for a long night and a longer day, and most of us were not young any more. Nearly all of us were wounded. Even though most of our injuries were superficial they were still painful and debilitating. And I was tired, tired to the very marrow of my bones. Without realizing why I was doing it, I glanced at Serrena. She must have seen something in my eyes that she read as an appeal – mistakenly, of course.

  ‘Panmasi is nothing but a whipped cur dog running back to its master,’ she said to me, and I realized at once that she had solved the conundrum for us. We did not have to follow the trail left by Panmasi. We knew exactly where he was going. And suddenly I was no longer exhausted.

  However, we still needed horses if we were to catch Panmasi before he reached Abu Naskos to rejoin his master. It seemed that he had taken all the horses that he needed for his men and himself to escape. Those animals that were superfluous to his needs he had crippled so as to deny them to us. There are few sights more harrowing than a beautiful horse with the ligaments of its fetlock joints hacked through on both its hind legs. It was typical of the man that he preferred to inflict agony on these lovely creatures to taunt us rather than driving them away or killing them outright. It was one more score for me to settle with him when we finally met again.

  I was so angered I almost reminded Serrena that it was she who had insisted we free Panmasi when her father and I had that treacherous rogue in our power and were on the point of dealing with him so as to ensure that he would cause us no further anguish. But I could not bring myself to be so cruel to one I love so dearly. I even sent her to bring down those horses that we had stabled within the Garden of Joy. While she was away I put the poor creatures that Panmasi had crippled out of their agony with a sword-blow between the ears.

  In addition to those from the Garden of Joy we found a few uninjured animals that had been overlooked by Panmasi’s henchman in their haste to fly the city. Thus we gathered mounts for twenty-two of my men to take up the chase to bring Panmasi to justice.

  Naturally enough both Rameses and I protested anew when Serrena announced that she was determined
to join us in the final hunt for Panmasi and his escaping henchmen. We used the same old rhetoric regarding the poor little mite cowering in her womb who might suffer injury and even death if its mother were so cruel as to inflict the hardship of a long and harrowing ride upon it.

  Serrena listened to both of us with a sweet smile on her face, nodding her head as if in agreement with our pleas and protests. When we finally ran out of words and were gazing at her expectantly she shook her head. ‘I only wish everything you are telling me were true, but the goddess Artemis has different ideas,’ she told us. ‘Almost the moment you left me in the Garden of Joy she sent me my red moon.’

  ‘What on earth is that?’ Rameses looked mystified. He was still very naive when it came to the mysteries of the female body.

  ‘Tell him, please, Tata,’ Serrena appealed to me.

  ‘It’s the goddess Artemis’ way of saying, Not good enough. Try again,’ I explained.

  Rameses thought about it for a few seconds, then he smiled happily. ‘Tell the goddess I accept her challenge only with the greatest of pleasure!’

  Within the hour we had completed our preparations for the long ride and were ready to pursue Panmasi and attempt to prevent him reaching Utteric in the city of Abu Naskos in the north.

  Naturally enough there was no further argument. Red moon or not, Serrena was no longer to be denied. She was coming with us.

  Long ago I had perfected the trick of sleeping in the saddle with my feet tied together under my mount’s chest and a reliable groom to lead us both. I awoke an hour before dawn and took only a moment to orientate myself. I felt totally rested and eager for the first sight of the chase.

  ‘Have we crossed the Sattakin River yet?’ I called to my lead groom. The Sattakin was one of the only significant tributaries running into Mother Nile to the south of Luxor.

  ‘Not yet.’ He looked up to check the stars. ‘I reckon still about half a league to go.’

  ‘Any sign of Panmasi’s horses ahead of us?’

  ‘It is too dark to read tracks without dismounting, my lord. Do you want me to check?’ he asked.

  ‘No, we are committed. Don’t waste another minute. Keep going!’ I ordered.

  I looked back and could just make out the dark shapes of Serrena and Rameses following me closely. Rameses was sleeping in the saddle just as I had been, and she was holding him so he did not slide off his mount’s back. I would not waken him yet. I could hear the hooves of the other horses following us. Although there were many of them I could not make out any in the darkness. There was no point in increasing the pace until it was light enough to see well ahead, other than increasing the risk of running into an ambush set by Panmasi.

  I restrung my war bow, wedging the lower limb in the pommel of my saddle to get the tension on it. Then I slung it over my shoulder, and drew five arrows from my quiver and lodged them in my belt, ready to be launched in quick succession. I glanced back and saw that Rameses was now awake. Serrena must have roused him. He was also busy with his weapons, preparing them for instant use.

  He looked up at me and I could make out his features clearly: the dawn light was coming on apace. Now I could see the horses and the riders that followed him. I counted them quickly and all twenty-two of them were present. Then I glanced down at the pathway beneath my mount, and my heart tripped and then beat faster. It was light enough to see that the dry surface of the track had been pounded into powder by the passage of many hooves. The tracks were less than an hour old. Even as I watched one of the hoof prints collapsed upon itself in a run of dry dust.

  I held up my hand. The men following me bunched up behind me and sat their horses quietly. Rameses and Serrena came up level with me, one on each side, with our boots almost touching, so I was able to speak in a whisper.

  ‘I think I recognize where we are. Ahead of us the ground dips sharply into the gorge of the Sattakin River. Judging by his tracks Panmasi is not more than half an hour ahead of us. We were in danger of running into his rearguard in the darkness. However, I am almost certain Panmasi has now halted his troop in the gorge to rest and water their horses. They will obviously have posted pickets to cover their back trail, but we are still concealed from them by those folds of the ground there – and there.’ I pointed them out, and then I turned and looked back the way we had come.

  ‘Our best alternative is to retreat, and then make a wide circle to get well ahead of him while his men are resting. Then when they start moving again they will still be watching their back trail, but we will be lying up ahead of them.’

  There was no demur from any of them, not even Serrena. So we turned and retraced our steps for a considerable distance southwards. Then we swung in a wide semicircle towards the east and swam the horses across the Sattakin River before it entered the gorge and ran down to join waters with the Nile.

  We continued our semicircle and at last came within sight of the rough track that ran from Luxor along the east bank of the Nile. We approached it cautiously and when we were within a few hundred yards of it I went forward alone on foot, leaving the rest of our contingent concealed in a convenient wadi. When I reached the road I was relieved but not surprised to find no tracks or other signs of recent human passage upon it.

  The Nile River lay only a mile or so to the west and was by far the most popular route for most traffic between Luxor and Abu Naskos. As I had hoped, Panmasi was still lingering at the crossing of the Sattakin River, secure in the belief that he was not being followed. We had succeeded in getting ahead of him. I ran along the verge of the road, hopping from tussocks of grass to clumps of weeds to cover my footprints as I searched for an inconspicuous ravine to serve as an ambuscade. This was difficult because the hills along the Sattakin River were almost entirely denuded of trees and the grass was sparse and seldom more than knee-high.

  However, the gods favoured me, as they so often do. I discovered a shallow ravine running parallel to the road that was almost unnoticeable from a distance of fifty paces, which was approximately the distance that separated the road from the ravine. It was also a perfect killing range for our recurved bows. Behind our ravine was an inconspicuous outcrop of rocks, which provided almost perfect concealment for our horses. They required only two of our number to tend them. The rest of us were lying up in the ravine, each with an arrow nocked in our bows, and follow-up arrows ready to our right hands.

  The rising sun was hardly four fingers’ width above the horizon when we heard the sounds of many hooves clattering along the rocky surface of the road climbing up the escarpment from the Sattakin River. I had arranged a clump of grass on the lip of the ravine to mask my eyes and the top of my head as I peered out. Every other man in the ambush had his head well below the lip and his face pressed to the bottom of the ravine. I deliberately differentiate between the sexes of those who were obeying my instructions and those who were not.

  Serrena was directly behind me and therefore out of my line of vision. All my concentration was focused on the track ahead of me and the column of men approaching along it. I had no idea that her head was up and that she was using me and my clump of grass as cover. She had already adopted the classical archer’s squat, with an arrow nocked and her eyes bright as an eagle’s as it focuses on its prey the moment before it begins its stoop.

  I let Panmasi lead his men deep into my trap before I opened my mouth to shout the command to my men to let their arrows fly, but I was shocked into silence by the unmistakable sound of a heavy recurved bow, one with a forty-deben draw weight, releasing its arrow only inches from my left ear. This was a sound akin to the crack of a heavy bull-whip lash magnified many times by its proximity. The arrow flew past my ear in a liquid blur of sunlight. Only an eye as sharp as mine was capable of following the flight of that arrow.

  At the head of the approaching column of horsemen Panmasi was bare to the waist. His helmet and breastplate were tied to the back of his saddle. As were most of the men that followed him, he was sweating heavily in the h
eat of the early sunlight. Serrena’s arrow struck him just below the juncture of his ribs and three finger widths above the umbilical scar in the centre of his belly. It buried itself up to the fletching, and the force of it lifted him out of the saddle and hurled him backwards. He twisted in the air, and I saw the arrowhead protruding from the centre of his back. It must have severed his spinal column, and he was screaming with the shock and agony of the wound. It was a mortal stroke, but I judged from the site of the wound and the angle of the arrow shaft that it would take a while for him to die. Serrena had aimed her shot to kill inevitably, but also to kill slowly and remorselessly.

  I realized she was taking full retribution for the torment and suffering that Panmasi had visited upon her, and others of her clan such as Palmys. I could not grudge it to her even if it meant she was flouting my orders. I was at least accustomed to the occasional disobedience from her.

  Panmasi’s men seemed not to realize what was happening. Almost none of them had seen him struck by Serrena’s arrow. Most of them rode with eyes downcast, and their forward vision was blocked by the horsemen riding ahead of them. When he was unseated and thrown bodily from the saddle, it brought down the men following directly behind him. Within seconds the entire column was plunged into chaos. Very few of the riders had strung their bows, and not one of them had nocked an arrow. Most of them were too busy trying to stay in the saddle to even realize they were under attack.