by Max Overton
When Hori added his song of praise back at Men-nefer, Tausret told him to be quiet. "You should know better than any common soldier or Medjay that it is hardly a feat of arms to have conquered peasants armed with sticks. The gods smiled on us, but it could so easily have gone the other way."
"That may be true, Great Wife, but if the king had returned to find Meryre occupying his capital city, it may have been a bloody battle to oust him. You have done the king and Kemet a great service today."
"Well, enough said. Now, have Ramose the Treasurer open the treasury, Hori. I promised Neferhotep and Usertem ten gold deben each, and I want a kite of silver awarded to every man in my little army."
The men cheered their queen once more when the silver was distributed, and promptly spent it all on drink and women. Two died that night as a result of drunken brawls, and one fell in the river and drowned, which was three more than had died in the brief battle that ended Meryre's revolt. Guard and Medjay alike swore eternal allegiance to Queen Tausret and vowed they were her men whenever she needed them.
Chapter 30
Userkheperure Seti speaks:
In this the third year of my reign, the gods of Kemet continue to smile upon me and the House of Ramesses. I have gathered the Two Kingdoms together and spread the peace of Ma'at to all men, dispensing justice and keeping the land safe from enemies external and internal. I build shrines and temples to all the gods, and where I do not build I cause the shrines and temples to be repaired, repainted and refurbished. All men are content and they praise me to my face.
One thing remains undone and for this I din the ears of the gods, offering up the finest of the king's flocks and herds, unblemished animals and the fruit of the fields. I need a son and heir, for though I am still a young man, I would have a son beside me before I become an old man and can no longer guide him in the art of war, teach him of law and kingship, and instruct him in the ways of the gods. My beloved Queen Tausret has not given me a living son, and every child her field produces is weak, without the strength needed for a future king of Kemet. I love her, but she is unable to give me what I desire most. I took my sister Takhat to wife, hoping that my seed in a different field might give me the son I need, but alas, she could only give me a daughter.
And now Takhat has fallen into the hands of Messuwy, my half-brother. Well, he will do her no harm, I suppose, though my pride suffers. A king should be able to prevent such things happening, and the fact that they do only shows me the gulf that exists between the Kemet that should exist and the one that does. Ma'at has been shattered, and the only way it can be restored is for Messuwy to perish.
I just had an errant thought, would Ma'at be restored if I perished and Messuwy lived? I have no son, so Messuwy would likely inherit as son of a king. It is a terrible thought, for surely a man who grasps the throne, seizes the heka and nekhakha of kingly authority without the permission of the gods, cannot fail to bring down destruction upon the land. For the sake of Kemet, if not for the sake of my unborn son and heir, I must strike the usurper down and consign him to oblivion.
My initial foray to Waset was ill-considered, I can see that now. My rage conquered my good sense and I hurried to impose my will on the unruly south, thinking that my mere presence would be enough to set matters right. I should have seen that the rot was too deep to be brushed aside, and that I would need to excise the stink and decay of rebellion. For that I needed men, and I had not brought sufficient for the job. I was forced to withdraw to the north, leaving Messuwy alive, and he came back stronger than ever.
This time I came south with battle-hardened legions and struck his Kushite soldiers a mighty blow at the well of Ransut, routing them and driving them before me like the desert sand when the strong west wind blows. They fled south, at first in terror, but then their commander Sethi took them in hand and set up ambushes, assaulting my brave men by a series of cowardly attacks. Proceeding more cautiously than before, my legion commanders lost touch with the enemy and the southerners were able to pull back as far as Waset without being brought to battle once more.
Here the enemy rallied and turned to face us, less than three Kushite legions against my four. They could not hope to win and I exulted, knowing that the end of this civil war was at hand. Before the day was out, I would hang my brother Messuwy from the walls of Waset, along with his jackals Sethi, Khaemter and Roma-Rui. Thus I celebrated my victory in my mind's eye and confidently sent my legions forward, mighty Heru, steadfast Ptah, brave Set, and young but fierce Per-Bast.
As before, my disciplined legions and swift chariots carved their bloody way into the swarming Kushites, but this time they did not flee in panic. Sethi had stiffened their backs and put fire in their bellies. They brought sharp copper knives and darted in upon the chariots, dying in windrows beneath hooves and wheels, but ever more threw themselves forward and the sharp copper blades sliced into the legs of my beautiful horses and cut them down. How those horses screamed, and my brave charioteers added their fear-filled cries as they too joined them in death. My chariot squadrons came to nothing and my legions pressing forward were halted and then slowly forced back.
I marvelled at this and upbraided General Iurudef from where we stood together in my chariot on a low rise overlooking the plain of battle. I had waited with twenty chariots to sweep down on Messuwy when I saw whence he fled. Now, as I saw my men turned back, I asked Iurudef for an explanation.
"How is it that my fine legions cannot prevail against the Kushites here in the shadow of the walls of Waset, when they so easily put them to flight at the Well of Ransut?"
He pointed, his arm shaking slightly. "See, Son of Re, how the Kushites are joined by others who were hiding in the city."
I looked, and indeed saw that men, dark and tall, were streaming from the city to join the Kushite army. As their strength grew, so their bravery waxed and that of my men waned. Kushite warriors, naked save for furred and feathered arm bands and anklets, leapt into open spaces between the fighting men, dancing and cavorting, hurling insults at their foes. Then, uttering cries that chilled the hearts of our men, they plunged forward, copper blades rising and falling. Our men fell back before their ferocity, and still the Kushite army grew in size.
"We must pull back, Son of Re," Iurudef said in a low voice. "If we do not, our legions will be slaughtered."
"The king does not run," I said coldly. "I am the grandson of Usermaatre."
I could hear Iurudef grinding his teeth, and thought that anger or fear would shake his voice, or that he would be injudicious in his speech, but when he spoke he was calm and considered. "A tactical withdrawal, Son of Re." He ventured a small smile. "The movement of men upon a battlefield. Nothing more."
Against my will, I could see the sense in his words, for my legions were crumbling in front of me. My heart ached within me as I thought of Messuwy claiming a victory when I had sworn to hang him on the walls of Waset, but if I did not act soon, I would lose all chance of that ever happening. I gave the order and the rams' horns blared out, cutting through the dust and din of battle.
My legions withdrew in an orderly fashion, each protecting the other, while the army of Sethi continued to press forward, uttering cries of triumph. Back we went, until the high walls of Waset were lost in the dust and haze, and there the Kushites halted, allowing us to break off the battle. The defeat galled me, and sat like sour wine in my stomach and throat. I called my commanders to me and demanded their counsel.
"A temporary setback, Son of Re," Iurudef said.
"Fall back further and gather our men for another assault," Emsaf opined.
"Attack at once, before they can gather themselves," Besenmut said.
"I think we could defend this position," Ahmes offered. "Let us retreat no further but instead gather ourselves and attack once more tomorrow."
"I agree," I said. "It rankles that I must withdraw in the face of my brother's army, for he is a usurper, one who dishonours the throne of Kemet."
"Then
, Son of Re, let us put our legions in order and attack the rebels before they can regroup," Besenmut said.
I looked around at my commanders, weighing their words, and then at the one who had not yet said anything. "And what do you say, Setnakhte?"
"Son of Re, my fellow commanders are all northerners, born of Ta Mehu families, whereas my mother, who was a concubine of the great Usermaatre, came from Waset. I have spent many years in Ta Shemau, and am familiar with Kushites and the way they think."
"Yes, yes, we all know you are a son of Usermaatre's later years," Iurudef said. "And I have Kushites in the northern legions. I know how they think and it is not too different from other Kemetu. A soldier is a soldier..."
"But these are not soldiers," Setnakhte cut in. "They are tribesmen pulled out of the wilderness and do not know how to be soldiers. You saw them leaping and dancing before plunging into battle. Are those the actions of a soldier of Kemet?"
"So what is your point, Commander Setnakhte?" I demanded.
"Forgive me, Son of Re, I will get to the point. The Kushite tribesman wants to sit in his own village drinking barley beer and eating beef from his own herds, surrounded by his women and children. He has been enticed to fight by the promise of plunder or some such reward, but if the war drags on he will look more and more fondly at what he has left behind, and one night he will just slip away and go home. My advice, Son of Re, is to withdraw as far as needful, even up as far as Ta Mehu, drawing Messuwy's army after you. We know they have something like five thousand tribesmen and the Amun legion, but in a month, if Messuwy has not brought them a decisive victory, they will start deserting him. Wait another month and you can destroy his depleted army."
My commanders counselled immediate attack or fearful retreat, but only Setnakhte gave me a reason for his considered advice. I hated to appear cowardly in the face of the enemy, but I hated indecision even more. I looked at the faces of my commanders, all of them waiting like sheep to see which way I would move, except for Setnakhte. He looked much as I imagine his father and my grandfather, Usermaatre Ramesses, must have looked as a young man, eager for glory and to get to grips with the enemy, but on his terms. I will have to watch this man carefully, I thought.
"We move north," I said. "Let us draw this rabble all the way up to Ta Mehu, and there destroy them."
We retreated north, three legions in good order with one hanging behind in seeming disarray, and drawing the huge Kushite army after us. Whenever they drew too close, the legion hurried its pace and whenever they fell behind, the legion slowed its march, encouraging them onward. In this way, we drew the Kushites north and then held them a little north of the ruined city of Akhet-aten. We sat in a defensive position and waited but now, instead of immediately attacking, Sethi halted his army and camped, as if waiting for something.
"Now you will see, Son of Re," Setnakhte said. "The Kushite flood has reached high water and must soon recede."
Chapter 31
Year 3 of Userkheperure Seti
Year 2 of Menmire Amenmesse
Sethi's temper had been gradually fraying as his army moved further away from Waset. Under the walls of Amun's city, as he held the huge army of Kushites in his hands, he could almost believe himself King of Ta Shemau. Menmire Amenmesse and his Tjaty Khaemter remained within the city, attending to such kingly matters as the governance of the local populace and making sure that sufficient shrines were erected and inscriptions carved that would enhance the king's reputation. Amenmesse even made trips over to the Great Field to check on how his tomb was progressing and to make sure that his brother's inscriptions were being defaced.
While Amenmesse played at being king, pretending that all men accepted him as God-on-Earth, it was left to Sethi to face the disciplined army of the north with his mob of unruly tribesmen. He knew that the Kushites were redoubtable warriors, but they really only liked obeying their own tribal chiefs and exhibited more reluctance to do as they were told than a pride of lions. He had had to use extraordinary means to get them to fight the northern legions at all, and he found that command was a balancing act between threat and reward.
When Khaemter had recruited the Kushites, he had made extravagant promises of gold and cattle and women for every man, and now that Sethi had inherited them, he found himself having to make good on these promises. Gold was easy enough now that they had the gold mines of Kush in their hand, and there were large herds of cattle that had been confiscated from land owners slow to donate their wealth to the new king. The trouble was, as soon as cattle were handed over to the tribes, they wanted to take them south immediately, deserting their duties. Sethi countered this by making an example of a hundred or so men, flaying them alive for desertion, and then persuading the tribal chiefs to graze their new acquisitions on sweet grass and only send them south in the charge of boys brought up from Kush specifically for that purpose.
The other problem was the promised women, and although the whores of Waset ably played their part, the number of virile young Kushite men seeking solace quite overwhelmed them. Disappointed men sought their pleasure elsewhere, mostly among the free women of Waset and the Amun legion spent much of its time keeping the peace within the city. Sethi was relieved when he could drive his cumbersome army north in pursuit of the retreating legions. Not only did it give the men something to occupy their time, but it also relieved the pressure on the women of Waset. Now it was the villages and towns along the road north who suffered.
At first, Sethi did what he could to limit the depredations of the Kushites, but after a while gave up and let them seek their pleasure where they might. As he explained to the mayors of the towns and deputations of village elders, "What would you have me do? They are many and I am one."
"A good general can control his men," one mayor pointed out. "This never happened when Userkheperure marched past."
"Such things are expected of foreign invaders," complained another mayor, "not soldiers of Kemet."
"Technically, I suppose you could argue that these men are not Kemetu, but rather are Kushite tribesmen," Sethi said. "They have a different view on life."
"It is not right. I must take my complaint to the king."
"As you wish, but Menmire is too busy to see you."
There was a long pause, and then the complaining mayor said, "I mean the king in Men-nefer."
Sethi smiled. "That would be a dangerous journey, and ultimately an unsatisfactory one. It would be better to just ignore it. The army will be moving north in a few days and your troubles will be at an end."
"Men in the town have died defending their wives and daughters..."
"Buildings have been burned, crops taken..."
"Women have been raped and some abducted..."
"We demand justice."
Sethi stared at the last speaker, and then at the others in his command tent. "Demand? You demand justice? Really?"
The mayor swallowed hard. "Ev...every man can petition the king."
"Ah, petition. Yes, you can ask the king for justice. For a moment there I thought you were demanding something from the king. Perhaps I misheard you?"
"Y...yes, my lord. I meant we must ask the king for justice."
"An excellent idea. Tell my scribe how many men have died, how many women have been raped, how many abducted, and also any damage done to your towns and crops and I will see to it that you are paid compensation. Will that satisfy you?"
"H...how much compensation, my lord? The damage and injury is extensive."
"I will leave the exact amount awarded up to the court officials, but I am minded to make a gift of gold to every mayor and headman of every town and village we pass." Sethi smiled at the avarice blossoming in every face. "Let me think, a deben of gold apiece? For you personally, you understand? Any award made to you for damage is entirely separate."
"My lord is generous."
"And...and very fair."
"Yes, I am, aren't I? The deben of gold is to make you go away. I have more important
things to do than listen to the whining of every self-important official in every squalid hamlet in Kemet. Put your complaints in writing to my scribe if you must, but for now...get out."
The mayors and elders filed out, and Sethi galvanised his cumbersome army into motion once more, sending out Troops to harass the rearguard of the retreating army, and others to forage along the rich river pastures. But the further he pushed into the north, the more discontented his Kushites became. By the time he reached the ruins of the Heretic's city, reports of desertion were filtering in from his officers, and within another month, his army was visibly shrinking from day to day. Sethi cajoled, he threatened, and he made horrific examples of some recaptured deserters, but still they slipped away by night, taking with them everything they could carry.
Five days south of Men-nefer, he suffered his first battle loss. A Troop had been harrying the rearguard as usual and pressed a little too close in their eagerness to snatch spoils from fallen soldiers. An officer of the Per-Bast legion rallied his men and struck back, inflicting significant losses on the Kushite horde. They withdrew, leaving the northern army in possession of the field.
Sethi launched a full scale attack and drove the foe northward again, but a day later they stood their ground once more and faced him. Attrition had weakened the southern army and the northern one was once more heartened by the presence of its king. The two armies clashed and shattered into a melee of fighting men, individuals fighting rather than groups. Back and forth swayed the ant's nest of struggling men, but gradually the Kushites were forced backward.
Sunset saved the southern army, and under cover of darkness they withdrew, leaving the northerners to regroup and ready themselves for the next day. When Sethi drove his army northward the next day, he found the legions blocking his way, arrayed for battle, and he hesitated, allowing his men to slow and halt within sight of the enemy. The armies stared at each other across an intervening stretch of sand and loose rock as the sun rose high and then dipped toward the west. One of Sethi's Troop Commanders, Qenna, a tall and muscular man bedecked with animal skins and feathers, approached his general with a troubled frown creasing his dark scarred skin.