by Max Overton
"I'm ordering my men not to take any action until the king returns and issues his commands," Menkauhor declared.
Acting Commander Djau promptly arrested Menkauhor and ordered the other Troop Commanders into the streets with orders to quell any violence by any means necessary. They obeyed, if somewhat reluctantly, and the presence of the troops allowed the Medjay to control the fires, gradually restoring order in a large part of the city.
The gangs turned to other targets, breaking into and looting shops and homes. Soldiers rushed to stop them and pitch battles ensued in several streets. Djau directed the battle, utilising the discipline of his soldiers, and showed that trained men could defeat a mob many times their number. Several gang members died, clubbed to death on the dusty streets, and several more were captured, being hauled off groaning to the prison cells. Time and again the gangs were thrown back and dispersed, but by the time peace was restored on the streets of Waset, scores of its citizens lay dead or wounded, dozens of shops and homes had been looted, and entire city blocks were burnt out ruins.
As the gangs withdrew, Sethi sent out other men to drip poison into the ears of any that would listen, hinting that the rioters were in the employ of the king, and that he sought to punish the city and its inhabitants because they were loyal to Amun. Many listened, and by the time Seti returned from the Great Field, unrest of a different sort was bubbling beneath the surface.
The royal party had seen the smoke rising from the city long before they landed at the Royal Dock, and Commander Merenkhons readied his twenty men to protect the king and queen. He also conscripted the forty sailors on board, pressing them into temporary guard duty armed with whatever they could find on board or on the dock. Forming the soldiers and sailors up in a protective cordon, Merenkhons hurried the king and queen through the streets toward the palace, very mindful that he was vastly outnumbered by the silent and sullen crowds that started to gather. He was very glad to see other Amun soldiers patrolling the streets and ordered them to follow.
Tjaty Neferronpet, having been alerted to the approach of the king, hurried to meet him and escorted him deep inside the palace, while Merenkhons set up successive rings of defences.
"What is going on?" Seti demanded.
"Rioting, it was serious for a time, but it's under control now."
"Why were they rioting? Who is responsible?"
Neferronpet shook his head. "I can't be sure, but it started with various gangs like the beggars, the watersiders, the street cleaners. Others joined in and started setting fires."
"The legion should have stamped them flat immediately," Seti said. "Why didn't they?"
The Tjaty looked across at Commander Merenkhons. "It seems not all is well within the legion. Not every officer wanted to act. I made Troop Commander Djau the Acting Commander and he got things moving."
"Make an example of these recalcitrant officers, Merenkhons," Seti ordered. "Remove any disloyal ones and if any acted in concert with the rioters, execute them." He turned back to Neferronpet. "I want to know who was behind these riots. You have prisoners?"
Neferronpet nodded. "I have put some to the question already. It is possible Sethi is at the bottom of it all. There have been some sightings of him in the city recently."
"See if you can find out any more. If they die during questioning, it will save us the trouble of executing them afterward."
"Husband," Tausret murmured. "Simple rioting is not a capital offence."
Seti scowled. "They rebelled against my authority, and that is."
"My lady," Neferronpet said. "The rioters burned and looted shops and homes and several people died as a result. Those are capital offences."
"But surely they must be tried in a court of law, first?" Tausret asked. "There may be extenuating circumstances. If they were incited to riot, then..."
"You are too soft," Seti snapped. "These rebels must be made an example of."
"Many were caught in the act, my lady," Neferronpet added. "They have no defence."
"Yet I worry that a harsh judgement may alienate the ordinary citizens," Tausret said. "They may have legitimate grievances, and that is why they rioted."
Seti opened his mouth to reply in a similar vein to his previous utterance, but drew his wife aside and spoke quietly. "Go to your quarters, Tausret, and leave these matters to be sorted by men. Your feminine soft-heartedness has no place here."
Now Tausret opened her mouth for a sharp retort, but controlled herself, lowering her gaze. "As you wish, husband... but remember the people of Waset are your people too." She bowed to her husband as king, and left the room.
Seti turned back to his Tjaty. "If Sethi is involved, then so is my brother Messuwy. Find out for me."
"As you command, Son of Re," Neferronpet said, bowing. "Majesty, while you are here, there is one other thing I would like to bring to your notice though I hesitate to mention it. It has no immediate bearing on the rioting, but I feel it is all related."
"Yes?"
"Royal Butler Bay. He has strong ties to Messuwy, being brother to Messuwy's dead wife Suterere. I fear that his sympathies lie with your brother rather than you. He is well placed to spy on you."
Seti regarded his Tjaty thoughtfully. "He has never given me reason to doubt him."
"And yet, if his loyalty lies with family, he could do great harm to you."
"As I said, I have seen no evidence that he is disloyal. In fact, he aided me in determining who had a hand in the death of my father Baenre."
Neferronpet nodded. "His finger pointed away from the South, and involved enemies of Kemet who were conveniently dead and so could not be questioned."
"It was a plausible story."
"Indeed, Son of Re, but you could get at the truth of it. Put him to the question."
"Not without cause."
"Messuwy has designs on your throne; Bay is his brother by marriage."
"Enough, Neferronpet," Seti said sharply. "I trust Bay. Now do as I asked here in Waset and leave the court at Men-nefer to me."
Chapter 14
Year 1 of Userkheperure Seti
Ament led his captives north from Eilah to the Timna Valley and took the road that led through the valley to the slave camp a few thousands of paces from the valley entrance. Here he handed them over to the Mine Overseer, a heavyset, hairy-bodied man by the name of Mentopher. The Overseer grinned and licked his lips when he saw the boys and ordered his guards to take them to the slave barracks and feed them. Ament evidently looked surprised at the humane treatment of the young slaves, for Mentopher leered and explained.
"There are some good-looking boys in that lot and they'll be much in demand. No sense in spoiling their looks by use of the whip. They need a bit of feeding up too."
"I thought they were destined for the mines."
"Some will be, but that is hard and dangerous work and frankly they don't look strong enough. The processing camps will take many of them, that's where we smelt the ore and turn out copper ingots. The better looking ones will work in the kitchens and such, looking after the needs of the guards."
Ament grunted. He did not like the gleam in the Overseer's eyes when he talked about the boys. Mentopher was obviously not a Kemetu, and he knew foreigners had some strange customs. He hoped that the boys would not be worked too hard, but when all was said, they were slaves and as such, had no choice in their fate. The gods had ruled that he remained a free man while these others became slaves, how could he go against the will of the gods? He nodded to Mentopher and marched his men off to the military barracks, where he reported to the commander there, Nebamen.
"Captain of the Palace Guard in Men-nefer, eh?" Nebamen queried. "Nominally you outrank me, but don't get any funny ideas, Ament. I rule here, and we do things my way."
"Yes sir. My orders were to bring the slaves to Timna, but having done that, I suppose my orders are at an end. It was my understanding that I was to return to Men-nefer, but my orders don't specifically say that. With your perm
ission, I'll remain until I and my men have recovered from the crossing of Sin."
Nebamen nodded. "See the barracks quartermaster. He'll provide beds and food." A smile creased the Commander's lips but did not touch his eyes. "I can have a young boy attend upon you if you like."
Ament shook his head. "That won't be necessary, thank you sir."
"Maybe when you are rested."
Ament got his men settled, and after a light meal decided to have a look around the mine site. He asked for and was granted a guide so that he could make sense of what he saw. The guide was a local tribesman whose duties included the transport of water from the ephemeral stream that sometimes ran down the valley floor and the numerous wells that dotted the low-lying land.
"I am Zephan, honoured lord," the tribesman said. "Please to tell me what your heart desires and I will do it."
"Just show me round the mines and...what else is here? Copper smelting, is it?"
"Yes, honoured lord."
"I'm not a lord, Zephan, so either call me Ament or... or 'sir' if you must."
"As sir wishes. Will sir please follow me?"
Zephan led Ament away from the barracks and through the small settlement that had sprung up around the mine and its large slave camp. The camp was largely deserted as the slaves were hard at work during daylight hours, so there was little of any interest to see. A road led from the camp toward some low hummocks near the valley side, where many people milled around. Ament pointed and asked what was happening.
"The mines, sir."
"All right, let's start there."
They set off down the road that crossed the valley floor and passed through areas of rock, or scattered rubble and drifts of sand. Scraggly plants grew in the depressions, but the overall impression Ament gained was of a dry wasteland. Closer to the valley sides, outcroppings of sandstone had evidently been blasted by winds into strange shapes and tall columns. He stood on a slight rise and looked about him. Although the predominant colour of the sand was red, there were streaks and patches that were closer to orange, yellow, brown and black. An area off to one side caught his eye and he set off across the sand with Zephan trailing after him. He reached the patch and stared down at it in bemusement, for the sand held hints of light green and blue.
"I've never seen blue or green sand before."
"It is more common near the mines, sir. I am told it is because copper ore is close by; though copper is a red metal and why it should make sand or rocks green, only the gods know. You will see them bring out green rock from the mine, and then see how the green rock burns to give red metal. It is all very mysterious, sir."
"It sounds like it," Ament commented.
"Some rock is brought up with beautiful patterns of green and blue in it, and this is saved, being shipped off to make jewellery or if the blocks are large enough, to be carved into statues."
They resumed their walk toward the mines and soon came across streams of slaves, weather-beaten and burnt black by the sun, trudging endlessly from the mines with baskets of rock and returning empty handed. Ament and his guide earned a few tired looks, but apart from a scattering of guards who spared them a glance, they were otherwise ignored.
"There are only a few guards," Ament commented. "Aren't they worried they'll escape?"
Zephan grinned. "Ah, sir, where would they go? Except for the road to Eilah, there is only desert around us. Without water, they would die very quickly and with much misery. They know this and prefer to work until they collapse, at which point they earn a swift death by a spear thrust. You see? Everybody benefits."
Ament made no comment, but stepped through the lines of slaves toward the mine entrance itself. It was no more than a narrow portal in the solid rock, the edges worn smooth by countless feet and myriad baskets of ore. A wooden ladder descended into the depths and a tripod had been rigged over it with a rope by which slaves hauled rock to the surface. He edged close to the pit and looked into the dusty darkness lit only by a flickering oil lamp in the depths.
"You wish to descend, honoured sir?" Zephan asked.
Ament shook his head. "I can imagine what it must be like."
"I have been down there, sir. It is hot and cramped, with barely enough room to stand up. The sweat pours from you and you are assailed by cramps. You must chip off rock with copper tools, fill up the baskets and pass them back, your mouth and throat dry from the ever-present dust, coughs racking your chest, and every muscle aching. If you do not fill enough baskets in your allotted time, you are whipped; if you fill your quota you are fed just enough to enable you to go down again the next day. In a month or two, you die; but there is always someone else to take their place. Why, you brought many replacements with you, honoured sir."
"I brought boys, not mine workers."
"It is all the same, sir. A small boy is less cramped, or can move into smaller spaces. He might not have the strength to chip the rock, but he can still fill baskets and push them to the bottom of the shaft. If fate smiles on him, he might be assigned a task on the surface, fetching and carrying, or... other occupations."
Ament looked around at the slaves and the blank looks on their faces. Their vision could encompass the whole of their short lives at a glance, so where was there room for hope? Survival would be their only concern, and even then it was only for a short time. Zephan's words registered in his mind and he looked at the tribesman.
"What other occupations?"
"Ah, sir, you will have noticed there are very few women at Timna. The slaves have no desires left, of course, but the guards have the needs of any man. Your consignment of boys was very welcome to certain men."
Ament stared at Zephan with growing horror. "It... it happens, I know, there are always stories...but only between men. I mean, the gods Set and Heru also, in the temple tales, but... the boys do not agree to it, do they?"
"They have no say in the matter, sir. If they please a guard they draw extra rations, or are exempt from the mines and live a little longer..." Zephan shrugged. "It is not something I would ever do, but I do not face the choices they do."
Ament remembered the look on Overseer Mentopher's face and his remarks. A vague possibility of abuse had just grown into sickening certainty. "I... I spoke with Mentopher. No Kemetu man would force a child," he stated, hoping that was true.
"Mentopher is not Kemetu," Zephan said. "Nor are many of the guards, though some are. Guard duty out here is almost a punishment so anything that makes life more pleasurable is grasped with both hands."
"But you don't."
Zephan smiled. "My tribe is two days away..." he gestured vaguely to the north. "...and besides, I have a wife and children of my own. I could never abuse children like this."
"It is a horrifying thought. I... I must protest this. I should confront Mentopher..."
"It would do no good, sir. He has been placed in his position by the Tjaty himself and he has sole power within the slave camp."
"Commander Nebamen then. He can enforce..."
"Your concerns do you credit, sir, but Commander Nebamen keeps the peace and will not contradict Mentopher. Besides, he enjoys the company of boys himself. A slave's lot is an unhappy one, but we can do nothing."
"I could go to the king," Ament said.
"Perhaps you could, sir," Zephan replied.
Ament glanced at him and saw a pitying look in the tribesman's eyes. He was humouring him, not believing anything could be done. "You seem to know a lot about this situation."
Zephan nodded. "When I first arrived in Timna, I protested some of the practices being visited upon the slaves, for they were contrary to the laws of my people, but I was ignored, and when I persisted, threatened. I have no power here, sir, no means to alleviate their suffering. I think you have very little power too, and may meet with harm if you protest too loudly."
"I will take this matter before the king when I return to Men-nefer. I know him. He will act, I am certain."
Zephan nodded. "If I may offer some advi
ce, sir? Do not say anything of this to anyone else here. If others believe you could influence the king you would never live to talk to him." Ament looked shaken. "Would you like to see the smelting works while you are here, sir?" Zephan went on.
Ament could not trust himself to speak, so just nodded.
The road from the mine was dusty in the baking sun, and the heated air shimmered and seemed to create black pools ahead of them that evaporated and reformed as they walked slowly up the valley. Close at hand, snaking queues of prisoners carried baskets of ore, or hauled bundles of wood up from the camp. The wood, Zephan told him, was shipped into the port of Eilah and transported up to Timna on the backs of donkeys. From there, prisoners took up the burden. Off to one side, Ament saw great domed structures made of clay, and it was to these structures that the bundles of wood made their way.
"Charcoal kilns, sir. The best fuel to extract the copper is charcoal."
Further up the valley were the copper kilns. Zephan explained that the kilns fouled the air, so they built them up here, far away from the camp. Clay was dug out from the often dry riverbed to make the kilns, but these were very different from the ones that made the charcoal. While air was excluded from the charcoal furnaces so the wood did not burn, the copper furnaces required a steady stream of air to fan the flames, generating sufficient heat to crack and melt the pulverised ore. Giant bellows made of leather pumped air into these pit furnaces, the interior fires flaring a white heat with every exhalation of these huge artificial lungs. The men working the bellows were naked, sweat pouring off them as they heaved and pushed. Overseers kept a close eye on them, ready to encourage them with a tickle of the whip or replace them as heat and exhaustion drained their limbs. Small boys ran around with hide buckets and wooden dippers, providing the workers with water or splashing the charring leather and wood bellows where the heat of the furnace threatened to set them alight. Over this whole vision of torment hung a choking pall of fumes that caught at the lungs; a stink made up of burning rock, smoke, sulphur and charred hair.