by Max Overton
But how do I kill him? he thought. If I had a blade I could do it now, but I couldn't bring one in with me, the guards would look askance at a servant with a sword.
Sethi was staring at Ament again; his forehead creased in a frown, and Ament hurriedly composed himself, acting out the part of a lowly servant.
"I know that man," Sethi said.
"Eh, what man?" Amenmesse said. "The servant? I doubt it."
"You've probably just seen him around the palace," Khaemter said. "Now, we were talking about the gold production from..."
"Never mind that." Sethi strode across to Ament and stared into his face from close range. "Who are you? Where have I seen you before?"
Ament lowered his eyes and said nothing.
"Answer Lord Sethi," hissed the overseer.
"Well?"
"I don't know...Lord Sethi."
"I've seen you somewhere just recently," Sethi said. "But where? Doing what?"
"I don't know, my lord."
Sethi stared a little longer, then shook his head. "It will come to me." He snapped his fingers at the overseer. "How long has this man been a palace servant?"
"I...I don't know, Lord Sethi. I don't know all the palace servants...but he was just another servant in the hallway when I called him in. He was carrying cups..."
"Enough. Bring him along to my quarters when I leave. I will question him further."
"Is that really necessary?" Khaemter asked. "I would have thought you had more important things to do."
"Do you suspect him of something?" Amenmesse asked. "We can rid ourselves of him easily enough."
"No, Majesty. I'd like to know where I've seen him though."
"Very well." Amenmesse yawned. "This discussion has become boring. Do with him as you wish. I'm going to lie down for a bit."
The king left, and all the guards but one left with him. Sethi and Khaemter took the remaining guard, the overseer and Ament and started back through the palace toward the guest suites where Sethi was staying. Ament tried to look innocuous and servile as he walked behind the Tjaty and Sethi, but his mind was racing, seeking some way out of his present troubles.
I've missed my opportunity to kill the king, and now Sethi means to get to the truth so I won't get close to him again. But perhaps I can salvage something. Sethi is their general, and surely their army would be less without him. Could I kill him somehow?
Khaemter and Sethi continued to talk as they walked, but Ament paid little attention. He was looking for a way to escape or strike back at his enemies. There were too many people around though, too many people to stop him, no matter what he attempted. He glanced back at the guard, wondering if he could wrest his short curved sword from his waist or his spear from his hand. The man was watching him though, so he turned his attention to the overseer. Overweight, and soft from palace living, the man posed no danger to Ament, but also offered no opportunity that he could see. Glumly, he turned his attention back to the Tjaty and the General.
They came to Sethi's rooms and the five of them passed inside. It was a large room with a broad window along one wall that admitted cool breezes and the pleasant aromas of plants from the palace gardens. The overseer told Ament to wait against the wall near the door upon the General's pleasure, so he did, positioning the overseer between himself and the guard. Sethi and Khaemter were now talking about the training of new conscripts and in particular, the use of archers.
"There are tribes in the western desert that are proficient with the bow and arrow," Khaemter said. "They are fiercely independent though."
"Send emissaries to them. Archers would be invaluable in our..." Sethi broke off and frowned.
"What? Sethi?"
Sethi swung round and stared at Ament. "That's where I saw you."
"What are you talking about, Sethi?" Khaemter demanded. "Who did you see?"
"That man...or one who looked just like him."
"Where? When?"
"The Troop that employed archers against us. The Per-Bast archers that broke the back of my army. He was commanding them."
"Him? He's just a servant. You must be mistaken."
"Who are you?" Sethi demanded, stepping a pace closer to Ament.
Ament licked his lips, feeling vulnerable and unable to do anything. "Ament," he whispered.
"Address Lord Sethi properly, you fool," the overseer said. The man reached out and grabbed Ament's arm.
Ament shook free and then, as the overseer tried to grab him again, pushed him back violently. The overseer reeled back and collided with the guard, making the man drop his spear with a clatter. Ament leapt toward the unbalanced men and grasped the guard's sword from his belt, swinging it and connecting with the soldier's belly and the thigh of the overseer. The two men went down but the guard kicked out at Ament and he staggered back toward the wall, dropping the sword.
Sethi retreated a few paces and yelled for guards, Khaemter adding his urgent voice. Already Ament could hear shouts in the hallway and knew if he was to act it would have to be swiftly. Bending, he scooped up the fallen spear, hefted it to test its balance, and looked at the two men across the room. Shouts and the sound of running feet snatched at his attention, so in a fluid motion he threw the spear, sending it whiffling across the room toward Sethi. While the spear was still in flight he turned and raced toward the window, vaulting over the sill even as the spear struck and armed men burst into the General's room. He heard a cry of agony from his victim as he crashed through shrubbery and rolled onto a gravel path, and then he was onto his feet and running. Men poured after him, some following him through the window, others coming out through doors, scattering servants and gardeners. It was these same servants that enabled Ament to reach the street though, as the pursuing soldiers could not easily decide who the man they were after was.
Ament burst out onto the street, and pushed his way through a small crowd gathering to see what the commotion was. He felt a hand pluck at his kilt and lifted his arm to strike at his assailant before he saw the scared face of Jerem looking up at him.
"I told you to go to our room," he gasped. "Where's Ephrim?"
"He's waiting by the boat, father."
Ament grabbed the boy and hurried off down the street in the direction of the waterfront with a clamour rising behind them. People in the street were now shouting and men and women were surging away from the palace as soldiers poured out into the streets. Before they were halfway to the docks, rumour had overtaken them and there were stories of murder and mayhem being shouted from street corners.
"The king is dead."
"General Sethi's dead."
"The Tjaty has been foully murdered."
"General Sethi has rebelled."
"The king from the north has invaded."
Down through the crowded streets they ran, the populace swarming like a kicked ants' nest, and ran clear of the last buildings and out onto the city wharves where their boat was tied up. Ephrim was waiting in the boat, sitting white-faced and anxious as Jerem and Ament ran across. He saw them and burst into tears.
"W...where were you? What...what's happened?"
"Cast off the ropes, Jerem," Ament ordered. "Ephrim, it's all right, steer us out into the current while I get the sail up."
Soldiers ran onto the dock as Ament pushed the little boat away. The current gripped the craft and, with Ephrim's hand on the rudder, swung it away from the wharf.
"Stop!" somebody yelled.
"There, that boat. Stop it."
"That man, stop him. He killed the Tjaty. Gold for the man who stops him."
Men eager for the reward ran for other boats tied up nearby, soldiers joining them, and several put off in pursuit. They were heavily loaded though, and cumbersome, wallowing into the current where Ament's boat sped before them, sail upraised and angled to catch the light breeze. Soldiers stood in the pursuing boats, balancing as the boats rocked, and threw their spears, but none came close. Others ran along the shore, for a time keeping pace with the bo
at, but Ament and the boys were well out into the current now, being snatched downriver and away from their pursuers.
Chapter 37
Menmire Amenmesse speaks:
How can this happen? Am I not safe in my own palace, in Amun's City, surrounded by my own loyal men? How can an assassin gain entry to my private rooms? The man was there; no more than ten paces from my royal person, listening to me speak to my ministers. The gods were surely with me today, afflicting me with tiredness so that I would cut short my meeting with Khaemter and Sethi. If they had not, the assassin may have aimed his weapon at me, and I would now be lying dead in the Place of Purification rather than Tjaty Khaemter.
The man took a spear from a guard and threw it, striking down Khaemter, though it was Sethi he aimed at. I have this from the mouth of the Overseer of the Royal Wine, who was present at the time. He says that Sethi pulled Khaemter toward him as the spear flew, so the sharp copper blade bit deep into the Tjaty's chest rather than into Sethi's. I can understand his action, and indeed I forgive it, for I can more easily replace Khaemter than I can my General of Armies. The assassin escaped downriver, and I have no doubt he was in the pay of my vile brother in the north. Failing to find an opportunity to kill me, he struck at the man he thought next most important in the kingdom. In that he failed too, for though Khaemter was competent enough, and loyal, there are others that can take his place.
I raised up Amenmose to become Tjaty of Ta Shemau. A grandson of the Hem-netjer of Heru, I thought he would be a person I could rely on, but I was mistaken. He was loyal enough, I suppose, but incompetent. Given the task of raising troops for my army, he failed, and even at home, in the administration of Waset and the southern kingdom, he proved less than useful. A Tjaty is there to lessen the load placed upon a king's shoulders, not add to it. Amenmose could not even deal with the trivial affair of a quarrel between the Servants in the Place of Truth. I know what happened, for I was the one who had to deal with it when Amenmose failed.
The Scribe of the Place of Truth, Kenhirkhopeshef, was old and his faculties were fading, leading to a lack of control over the men under his hand. Neferhotep led one of the teams of builders, and Hay the other, but a man called Paneb caused the trouble. He was hot-headed and indulged in beer often and wine when he could get it, and fiercely resented the fact that his foster-father Neferhotep passed him over for honour in favour of one Hesysenebef, another foster-son. Paneb was married to Wa'bet, a daughter of Foreman Hay, but still hoped to inherit the place of Foreman of the other team when his foster-father died. When it became apparent that Hesysenebef had secured favour in Neferhotep's eyes, Paneb drank heavily and assaulted Neferhotep, chasing the old man down the street of the village and threatening to kill him.
Neferhotep, instead of taking this to the elders of the village as he should have, appealed to Tjaty Amenmose, and astoundingly, Amenmose heard the case. He found for the old man and Paneb was punished with a beating, but that was not the end of the case. Paneb felt he had been unfairly punished and appealed to the priests of Amun who brought it to my attention. The case they made on Paneb's behalf was persuasive and I countermanded the decision of my Tjaty, ruling in the man's favour.
I have little doubt that professional jealousy on the part of the priests of Amun was involved, in that Amenmose was a grandson of a priest of Heru, and I am certain that there was an exchange of gold to ensure first the conviction of Paneb, and then his appeal. Well, such things are not uncommon, but Amenmose was at fault for not containing the quarrel. Paneb brought forth evidence that pointed toward Neferhotep having appropriated goods destined for the tombs, and even claimed that this was the reason for losing his temper. Neferhotep brought counter-accusations, saying that Paneb had stolen stone from my brother Seti's tomb to construct his own. I could not ignore such an accusation, for such men rob the dead of their afterlife, but Paneb's was the lesser crime as my brother Seti is not truly king. So I found in favour of Paneb, restoring him to his position in the Place of Truth. There was insufficient evidence to convict Neferhotep of tomb robbing, so I left him as Foreman with a caution. I dismissed Amenmose for incompetence, for what I have raised up I can cast down again. Roma-Rui, the Hem-netjer of Amun, immediately put forward his own candidate for the position of Tjaty, but I refused to immediately appoint a replacement.
You may wonder why I concern myself with such a minor affair as the squabbles between workers in the Great Field, but in truth this is what it means to be king. I have been king in Waset for three years now, and though I have extended my suzerainty over Ta Shemau, I am no nearer ousting my brother from Ta Mehu and becoming Lord of the Two Lands. I am mindful of the discontent within my kingdom, for nobody benefits from war and continued lawlessness, so I must govern my people with as much justice as I can muster. In the main, they are peasants and beneath my consideration, but lawlessness undermines my rule and disturbs Ma'at.
This state of affairs cannot continue. I can see that I will have to take the field at the head of my army and face my brother in battle. I must end this stalemate one way or another, and either my brother falls or I do.
Chapter 38
Year 4 of Userkheperure Seti
Year 3 of Menmire Amenmesse
"You would have taken this upon yourself, Commander Ament?' Seti asked, incredulity colouring his voice. "To strike down an anointed king?"
Userkheperure Seti shifted on his throne, frowning at Ament as he stood before the king in the audience room with a selection of courtiers and army commanders bearing witness to his interrogation. Queen Tausret sat beside her husband on a slightly lower throne and looked intently at Ament. She opened her mouth to say something but evidently thought better of it, sitting back on her seat.
Ament said nothing but cast a reproachful look at Tausret.
"Whatever your intent, you failed," Seti went on. "Messuwy still lives, as does his General of Armies. You only struck down Tjaty Khaemter, who was the voice of honour and moderation in my brother's court."
Seti continued to stare at Ament, and nobody in the room said anything. Ament looked toward Tausret again, the appeal in his eyes bringing a flush to her cheeks.
"I made you Legion Commander," Seti said. "It seems you knew better though, deciding to strike on your own, without telling anyone. I value innovation in my legion commanders, but not stupidity, and am minded to reduce you to the ranks."
"My lord," Tausret murmured. "Do not be too harsh on him. It was my idea."
Seti turned and stared at his wife. "I should have guessed. You put him up to this?"
"I commanded him, my lord. The fault is mine...though I commanded him to strike down Menmire."
"You do know what my brother looks like, I take it?" Seti asked Ament.
"Yes, Son of Re," Ament murmured. "I had no means to strike when in his presence, but later, when with Khaemter and Sethi, I had the means and did so, reasoning that any death would be better than none."
"You should have waited until you had another opportunity."
"Son of Re, Sethi had recognised me and had I waited, I would have been the one to die."
"So instead of the death of a disobedient legion commander whom I doubt I would miss, Tjaty Khaemter, who is...was...a good man, dies instead. Khaemter was perhaps the one decent man in my brother's court. So tell me, Commander Ament, where is the benefit in this turn of events?"
"My lord, that is not fair," Tausret murmured.
"You are telling me I should blame you instead?" Seti asked. "Must I command you to stay out of politics and war? Confine yourself to womanly pursuits?"
"You could, my lord, but would I listen?" Tausret smiled and placed her hand on her husband's arm. "Who can resist when King Userkheperure and Queen Tausret ride to battle? As the brothers Meryma'at and Ramses found out."
Seti laughed despite his annoyance at the news of the debacle in Waset. "I fought and destroyed Meryma'at's army, whereas you just talked until Ramses gave up. I should send you as my ambassador to
Hatti. After a day of talking, they would surrender all claims to Amurru."
Tausret's eyes flashed with anger but she restrained herself. "Perhaps Commander Ament's efforts had a less than desirable outcome, but it was a good idea. We should not upbraid him for this, my lord."
"Perhaps not, but what has it benefitted us?" Seti asked.
"Son of Re," Tjaty Hori said. "The news is not all bad. Reports from spies in Waset indicate that the assassination has had an unsettling effect on the southern kingdom. Your brother never ventures outside the palace except with a squad of soldiers to guard him and never allows any weapon to be brought into his presence."
"Aye, Majesty," Setnakhte said boldly. "The effect on the southern army has been considerable too. Your brother may be king in Waset, and Sethi may be his General, but it was Khaemter that bound the kingdom together. He was the one who recruited men from the Kushite tribes, the one that persuaded ordinary farmers to lay aside their mattocks and pick up a spear, the one that cajoled merchants, fishermen and whores into giving their all for the army. They will miss his efforts."
"You really think it will make a difference?" Seti asked.
"Yes, Majesty. We should gather every man at our disposal and hurl them at the throat of the enemy before he can recover."
Seti considered the words of his Tjaty and of his Commander. "We have waged war against my brother for three years now, without winning a decisive victory. Every time we win a battle, he retreats and then returns and throws my army back. We find more men and attack again, and again he throws us back. The sand from Men-nefer to Waset is soaked with the blood of Kemetu and Kushite, and I am loath to spill more."