by Max Overton
Courtiers and commanders openly stared at their king, aghast at the tones of defeat present in his voice, but nobody was prepared to argue with him. They cast surreptitious glances at each other, waiting for somebody else to brave the king's wrath. In the end, Tausret spoke for them all.
"You are the legitimate Lord of the Two Lands, my husband, while your half-brother is the usurper. The gods of Kemet demand that you stand by the oaths you swore on your coronation day to rule your people with justice and mercy, and to establish Ma'at in all the land. If the only way you can do this is to spill the blood of both your enemies and those loyal to you, then that is the will of the gods." Tausret arose from her throne and stepped down onto the floor before kneeling in front of the king and holding out her hands to him. "The war has dragged on for three years because you have sought to save your kingdoms from bloodshed and misery, but it has not worked. Your brother has no such desire for peace but will spill the blood of every man in Kemet if it will bring him to the throne. You must overthrow him by overwhelming force, my lord, or else step aside and let another be consecrated in your place, someone who will not flinch at what must be done."
Tjaty Hori cried out in horror at this idea, as did many of the courtiers, but the army commanders regarded the king keenly to see how he would react.
Seti stared at his wife. "You dare to suggest I step down from the throne?" he whispered. Suddenly he leapt to his feet and strode across to where Tausret knelt, staring down at her with his fists clenched by his sides. "You dare call me a coward?"
"Not a coward, husband, never a coward." Tausret looked up at the king, her face open and smiling. "Rather a king too concerned for the welfare of his people."
"What? Explain yourself."
"You want to spare your people the horror of war, and that is a commendable virtue on the face of it, but a worse fate for the people of Kemet would be for Menmire Amenmesse to be king over both kingdoms."
"Don't use that name," Seti growled.
"Then expunge it from the living world, King of Kemet. For the sake of your kingdom, for the sake of the people, gather your armies and stamp Waset flat if that is what it takes." Tausret rose to her feet and took her husband gently by the shoulders. "And if not for your kingdom and for your people, King of Kemet, then for the son that moves within my belly. If Menmire Amenmesse wins, he will kill your son and cast his body into the river so that his spirit must wander unhomed throughout eternity. Is that what you truly want?"
Now Seti took his wife by the shoulders and searched her face earnestly. "It is true? You know you will have a son? You have my son inside you?"
Tausret nodded, trembling with the emotion of having confronted her husband the king. "The physicians have watered wheat and barley with my urine and assure me it is so. Will you protect him, husband?" she whispered.
Seti stroked her face gently, oblivious to the courtiers and commanders around them. "With my life," he replied.
"Not with that, for you are very precious to me. Just say that you will have a throne to pass on to our son many years from now."
Seti smiled, but the good humour in his eyes faded and became a fierce desire. He turned to the audience and roared, "By the gods, I will. Mobilise every legion. We march south to crush my brother and end this war."
The king dismissed everyone save for the Tjaty and his military officers and got down to planning the war. Tausret excused herself, but Seti's attention was already elsewhere and he spared no more than a glance and a nod for his wife and unborn son.
"Every legion," he declared. "Even the ones on the northern borders. I want so many men that even the hordes of Kush cannot stand against me."
"It would be fool...dangerous to strip the frontier, Son of Re," Hori said. "The Hatti, the Amorites or the Sea Peoples...even the Retenu are just waiting for the chance..."
"More foolish to play it safe," Setnakhte growled. "Protect the north from foreigners and lose the lot to the southern bastards. If it is handled well, the foreigners will be cautious about invading. By the time they do, we will return and throw them back."
"Setnakhte speaks truth," Ament commented. "For three years we have played safe and are no nearer winning."
"Exactly," Seti said. "If we strip the frontier, how many legions have I?"
"Heru, Ptah, Set, Re, Per-Bast..." Hori shrugged. "Five trained legions and we could probably scrape up two more if we hire men from the sepats."
"Find me five more," Seti demanded. "Take every man who can hold a spear or an axe. I don't care if the cities hold nothing more than chattering women, old men and children, if the vineyards stand untended and the flocks wander unhindered. I want every man, Hori, even you."
The Tjaty went pale. "Son of Re, I am yours to command, of course, but we cannot leave the land untended, the fields unploughed for...for...it may be months."
"Let women run things. I'm sure my wife would agree they are capable."
"Majesty, please." Hori gulped. "You cannot be serious...to let women rule..."
"I shall leave Queen Tausret as ruler over Ta Mehu while I am in the south, for I know her worth. As for peasant women, if she can rule her household, she is capable of more. Let the women of Kemet take up the reins of power and guide the Kingdom while the men are away."
Chapter 39
Year 4 of Userkheperure Seti
Year 3 of Menmire Amenmesse
Khaemter's skills were sorely missed; his subtle blend of reward and threat that brought men flocking to the banners of Menmire's southern legions. General Sethi's demands were blunter and lacking finesse, but after the first hundred or so men who refused to join up were publicly hanged, he expressed satisfaction at the numbers that resigned themselves to their fate. Viceroy Setuy of Kush, having already fulfilled his promise to supply men, scoured the wilderness again and sent another three thousand Kushite tribesmen north. Though they were unruly and undisciplined, they swelled the ranks of the army quite satisfactorily.
Sethi paraded his army on the wide plains outside the walled city of Waset and invited Menmire to inspect them. The king drove through the gate in his war chariot, his blue leather war-crown on his head and adorned with gold, driving up and down the ranks of his army, cheered by thousands of voices. When he reached the most recently recruited Kushites, they broke ranks and swarmed around the royal chariot, beating their short spears on cow-hide shields and uttering fierce cries of approbation. Taken aback at first, Menmire went pale, thinking he was about to be attacked, but General Sethi fought his way through the crowd and stood in the chariot with his king, inciting the warriors to even more enthusiastic cries.
"With an army like this," Menmire said, "how can I lose?"
The army moved north almost immediately, leaving a depleted land in its wake. Every scrap of food found in the fields and storehouses was consumed, every item of any use plundered from villages and towns as if they were a conquering army moving through enemy territory, rather than through the southern Kingdom of Ta Shemau. Nobody dared to complain, for the men were pressed into service, the women raped, and the children left to cry themselves to sleep or huddle clutching their empty bellies until they died of starvation. Menmire came across one such village while he was out hunting, quartering the desert after his army had passed through. Standing in his chariot, he looked at crying women and dead children. He called Sethi to him after he returned to camp and told him what he had found.
"I am concerned for my people," Menmire told his general. "They have suffered enough. They should not have to put up with further travails."
Sethi shrugged. "It is the nature of war. If you are to secure your throne, sacrifices must be made." He seldom now offered his king any honorific.
Menmire frowned at his general's off-hand manner. "I gain a throne and they make the sacrifice."
"If it gives you comfort, you can be generous with what we capture in the rich lands and cities of Ta Mehu."
"And the dead children?"
"Many ch
ildren die, even in times of peace."
"And the raped and battered women?"
Sethi stared at his king and shook his head slowly. "It is in a good cause. Your army's needs come first."
Menmire sighed. "I suppose you are right."
"Of course I am right. They are peasants and deserve no better. Their only purpose is to serve you in whatever capacity they can. Besides, the fewer mouths there are to feed, the easier it will be for the survivors."
The Kushite army swept northward like a cloud of voracious locusts. All thoughts of discipline were forgotten as troops broke down into roving bands, legions into hungry hordes. Hours before they camped for the night, the men would spread out, scouring the thin ribbon of farmland adjoining the life-giving river, denuding the fields of produce, killing any animal that moved or man who disputed their right. When the army moved on, women and children descended on the trampled fields and ripped up the grass, stuffing it into their mouths to quell their hunger. Few of the Kushite warriors knew how to fish, so nets in the fishing boats or by the ramshackle huts were passed over and the wealth of food beneath the waters of the Great River was ignored. Women in many villages were forced to learn new skills to provide food for their depleted families, but mastered the art of fishing quickly enough to stave off starvation.
Spies from the north reported that Seti's army was on the move, ten legions strong and were no more than two day's march away. When he heard, Sethi uttered a great oath and struck the spy chief, telling him to speak the truth without exaggeration.
"It is the truth, General," the spy chief quavered, lifting his head from the dirt floor of the command tent. "I recognised the banners of Ptah, Set, Heru, Re and Per-Bast."
"That's only five legions, and I don't believe even that. Seti would not leave the northern borders unprotected."
"General, there were other legions but I did not recognise the banners."
"They sought to deceive you by flying banners without meaning. Five legions would be over seven thousand men and I do not believe Ta Mehu can find that number."
"Are you certain of that?" Menmire asked. "We have close on nine thousand men, but not as disciplined as the northern legions. If they have seven to our nine it will be a close-run thing."
"Son of Re," the spy chief murmured. "Believe it. Over ten thousand men face us."
"That is nonsense," Sethi declared. "You have been deceived, now go back and count the enemy again."
"Yes, General."
"And you will not breathe a word of your lies to the men. If I hear any rumour circulating among the men, I will tear your throat out. Is that understood?"
When the spy had left, Menmire begged Sethi for the truth. "He is right though, isn't he? My brother has ten thousand men?"
Sethi regarded his king thoughtfully before answering. "Probably."
"Then we cannot win."
"That depends on many things. What will lose us the fight before it has even begun is if the men get an inkling of what awaits us."
"Then it's hopeless, for the spies must already have talked. Rumours will be spreading even as we talk."
"Then we must move fast and engage the enemy before their superiority becomes apparent."
"To what end if we are outnumbered?"
Sethi sneered openly. "To the end of securing your throne, of course. War is not exact. You cannot measure man against man, so many chariots, so many archers, and determine an outcome. Everything depends on the determination of the Commanding General, on the lay of the land, the element of surprise, and above all, the will of the gods. We have Amun-Re on our side, so we shall make it work."
Sethi drove his unwieldy army north, his officers encouraging the tired men with the use of whips and threats of dire punishment. Despite his best efforts to keep the enemy strength secret, rumours abounded, and the nearer they got to Seti's legions, the more reluctant the Kushites became.
The vanguards of the two armies came in sight of each other a little east of the abandoned city of Akhet-aten, where the eastern cliffs receded from the river in a great scallop. A few thousand paces further north was a flat plain suitable for chariots and Sethi knew that to engage the enemy there would be death. He had very few chariots and the northern legions would employ their superiority in that regard and cut his army to pieces. Instead, he halted his men and ordered that they cook a meal and consume all their stores. Then, he ordered a thousand of his men to turn east, into the desert and make a show of turning the flank of the northern army. As he had expected, Seti countered this move by sending two of his legions to intercept them. Sethi mounted a low rise of land and shaded his eyes, searching the enemy ranks for clues as to who opposed him. He saw many banners, but only three he recognised, those of Ptah, Set, and Heru.
"Mount your chariot, Menmire," Sethi said. "Show yourself to your army."
"I thought we weren't going to use chariots," Amenmesse said. "You said we were badly outnumbered."
"We would be fools to lay ourselves open to a chariot charge, but the men still need to see you. They need to be reminded of who they are fighting for. Show yourself; wave to them; encourage them to victory."
The king rode through the ranks in his chariot and the men, driven on by the whips of the officers, cheered him and drummed their spears against their hide shields. While they were thus occupied, Sethi turned to his deputy, Qenna, to discuss the coming battle.
"Three legions oppose us, in addition to some loose aggregations of men gathered under banners of their own. I have no doubt that Seti has recruited every man he can, calling them legions, but they will be untrained. It is only Ptah, Set, and Heru we have to worry about. The other two, Re and Per-Bast, have moved to intercept the group I sent east."
"Two legions will cut that group to pieces, sir," Qenna said.
"A necessary sacrifice. We split the enemy forces and can attack each separately."
Qenna nodded. "We attack frontally?"
"I'd rather they attacked us, but I cannot make them. I have no desire to fight on the plain, where chariots would win the battle for them."
"Perhaps we could send men down into Akhet-aten and then north along the narrow riverbank? The ground will be too soft for chariots, but we could hit them hard in the western flank and then, as they turn to meet us, assault them from the front?"
"Show me."
Qenna took a spear from a guard and drew in the sand, outlining the river, the crescent of the city and the relative positions of the two armies.
"I will lead the river group myself, sir. Give me two thousand men and I will turn the heads of the enemy."
"You shall have them, Qenna. May the gods go with you."
Qenna selected his men and led them off, running westward until they came to the cliffs above the ruined city, and then down the narrow defiles, dried stream beds, that led to the lower levels. They passed the dark entrances of many roughly carved tombs, some with the emblem of the Heretic still carved into the walls, an Aten with outstretched rays ending in little hand clutching ankhs. Qenna made a Kushite sign to ward off evil as they passed the tombs and then thrust them from his mind.
The level ground beneath the cliffs was strewn with mounds of crumbling mud brick, and it took him a few moments to recognise the uneven topography as the ruined remains of the city. Here and there, he saw small buildings still standing, and as his Kushite horde streamed across the broad crescent, Qenna saw men and women amongst the ruins. None were armed or made the least threatening gesture, so he ignored their presence and ran to the north end of the city where the cliffs crowded the river once more.
The cliffs faltered and dipped a stone's throw from the water and a narrow road followed the river's edge before ending in a strip of scrubby vegetation. Once upon a time these had been fields and pastures farmed by the city dwellers, but a hundred years of neglect had returned them to a state where only goats could scratch a living. The strip of scrub was bordered by the river on one side and by a steep slope on the other
, the vegetation there giving way to stone and sand.
Qenna led his men along the strip, estimating the distance they had come and how far north of them was the enemy position. He called a halt and ordered his men to rest and drink before the next phase. While this was happening, he took two men and climbed the slope to see what lay just out of sight. The slope was steeper than it looked from the bottom, and Qenna found his feet slipping in the sand and loose rock, but managed to clamber to the top, breathing hard by the time he got there.
The plain he had seen by his General's side in the south stretched before him and the northern legions were everywhere. He and his companions crouched, hoping they had not been seen, and he tried to estimate what part of the horde would be most advantageous to attack. Qenna had to remember that his purpose was not to win the battle, but rather to provide a sufficient distraction so as to allow the main army a killing blow. He pointed to a group of standards and told his men to go back down to the river, march the men another five hundred paces upriver and then ascend the slope.
Time passed, and Qenna sat back in the sand while he waited, watching a hawk wheeling slowly in the pale blue dome of the sky above him and wishing he was back in Kush, sitting outside his hut while one of his wives brought him a pot of millet beer. He heard rams' horns sound behind him and scrambled back to where he could see Seti's army. The soldiers were moving, but without haste and did not look as if they were bracing for an attack. Then stones moved to his left and he saw his own men creeping into position. He moved across to them and started giving orders.
"The enemy are perhaps three hundred paces away. When I give the signal, run for them silently until you are seen and then yell loudly. Press home your attack with the short spear and hold for as long as you can. When I say, we fall back to the river, drawing them after us. This will leave their flank open for our army to crush them."
Qenna gave the signal and climbed upward, his companions alongside. They came over the lip of the slope and rushed toward the enemy as a long black line. Shouts erupted from the northern army when they were spotted, and men turned toward them, raising their weapons. Qenna screamed his tribe's war cry and others around him joined in, and seconds later they were upon the enemy, short spears stabbing, shields blocking return blows. There was little order to the attack, scarcely more in defence, as men singled out an opponent and tried to kill him. Spears thrust, axes rose and fell, and men on both sides fell to the hot sand, spilling their blood and their life.