The Awakening Aten

by Aidan K. Morrissey

  ‘Be still,’ commanded the charioteer, ‘you’re rocking the chariot and making it difficult both for me and the horse.’

  Even without standing on his toes, the great ships following the coastline, running parallel to the column, were unmissable. At first there were only two in sight then, as they moved on, more and more appeared. He lost count of their number when, in their midst, appeared the largest of all. Twice the size of those surrounding it, there was no mistaking the Royal Warship. A line of twenty oarsmen on the side nearest to him, Kha knew this number was matched on the other.

  A large sail was being hauled down as the ships were reaching the shore. The King’s ship anchored a short distance from the shore and smaller boats went to bring the King and the others to dry land. Kha had reached the landing area as the first small boats returned. He found Minmose and the two of them stood, watching the passengers being ferried ashore. Tents had been erected for the King and senior officers and into one of these tents went the King and Prince Thutmose followed by the Generals.

  ‘Final preparations and tactics,’ Minmose said. ‘The Naharina must know by now what is happening, if not they are more stupid than I thought. The King will be getting reports of any movement or action by their troops.’

  Whatever was happening inside the tent, outside was full of activity. Just as Kha had seen when his boat docked, the soldiers were unloading the newly arrived ships and everything was being assembled or moved to its preordained position. There was more noise than Kha had ever heard. Five thousand soldiers working in unison, each knowing his job, each doing it proficiently. It could not have taken more than three hours to discharge the boats and the army started to assemble everything into its unit parts.

  At the head of these were the chariots. Kha counted five groups of twenty-five chariots in each. At the front was a chariot which seemed to be made of gold.

  ‘The King’s chariot,’ Minmose said as he saw Kha admiring it. ‘The bronze one just behind is for Prince Thutmose.’

  Kha and Minmose walked to the front of the column.

  ‘How will we travel from here?’ Kha asked.

  ‘With the stores and retinue at the rear, I expect,’ replied the older man.

  The sound of a sheneb blasting out five times drew Kha’s attention. It was from just outside the tent where he had seen the King enter earlier. The flaps were opened from the inside and a number of smartly dressed charioteers exited, jumping up onto their chariots which were being controlled by their drivers.

  ‘Generals.’ Minmose almost spat as he said the word. It was only the King’s and Prince Thutmose’s chariots which were driverless, with their horses being held steady by soldiers standing in front holding the bridles. A few moments later the King came out. He was dressed in gold coloured armour and a blue Khepresh Crown. He looked every inch a King and a soldier. At his side marched a tall young soldier in bronze armour and a red headdress from which trailed two bands of striped cloth. It took Kha a few seconds to recognise the soldier. It was Tjay, his chariot companion. Tjay jumped up on the chariot and the King followed. No wonder the second charioteer had told Kha that Tjay was a good friend to have. He was for all intents and purposes the most important soldier in the King’s Army, “First Charioteer of the King” to give him his official title, a man without rank but under the orders of no-one but the King himself.

  ‘No wonder the General called him Sir,’ Kha said out loud.

  Minmose looked at him.

  As the chariots started to move off, the King’s chariot stopped beside the two stonemasons.

  ‘Minmose,’ the King said ‘you will travel with me on this first part of the journey which will be free of trouble. You can tell me stories of my father at Megiddo to help pass the time.’ Minmose, shocked that he had been recognised and spoken to directly by the King, rose from his prostrated position and climbed up beside the King. Kha felt that the King hadn’t even seen him. Then Prince Thutmose called over.

  ‘Kha, you ride with me, I need a report on the work Yuya has been doing.’

  Kha, artist and ex-prisoner, stepped aboard the Royal chariot of bronze. He stood beside the Crown Prince of Kemet and went to war with his King.

  chapter five

  As well as the five thousand troops and three hundred and twenty five chariots, the King had brought with him two hundred and fifty of his ‘Braves,’ his elite fighting troops. These would be the first into the battle once the enemy had been weakened by the chariots and Nubian Archers. Following closely behind the column, protected from attack by a group of two hundred and fifty, were the retainers and the pack animals carrying quantities of food. The King would be able to commandeer food from the towns and garrisons he passed but a great commander is always prepared for self-sufficiency. The camps at night were filled with the smell of bread baking as stores of wheat were constantly being turned into the staple food of the nation and the army.

  Kha’s mind was full of questions, ‘How much food and drink is given to each soldier each day? Who calculates the requirements for a campaign such as this? Are messages sent ahead to ensure supplies will be available?’

  These were not questions he could ask a Prince so, for now, they must remain unanswered, and instead they talked about Yuya and his progress.

  *

  The encampment on the fourth night took on a different shape. A stronger perimeter of guards was placed around the camp, tents were set slightly further apart. Enough room for two chariots to easily pass in all directions around each tent with the exception of the King’s quarters. His tent was protected by a rapidly built balustrade of wooden poles buried deep into the ground at an angle of forty-five degrees. No chariot nor horseman could reach the tent and any foot soldier would have to fight their way through two hundred and fifty of the finest soldiers in Kemet, to get anywhere near the King.

  ‘I think we’ll soon be at war,’ Minmose said, as he and Kha walked towards the cooking fires to get their quota of bread and beer. They found a spot to sit under a palm tree and ate in silence. A soldier approached them. It was Tjay, the King’s Charioteer.

  ‘How is the beer Kha?’

  These were the first words he had spoken to Kha since the artist had seen him mount the golden chariot some days before.

  ‘I have tasted much worse.’

  ‘Not in my company, I hope,’ replied the soldier. ‘I’m here to invite you both to come and listen to the plans for the battle tomorrow. The King is determined that the full story of what transpires is fully understood and recorded by you. Come with me to the King’s tent, sit close to the entrance beside the guards, adopt the position of a scribe and neither speak nor move.’

  The men rose and walked behind Tjay. Minmose whispered to Kha.

  ‘What the King really means is he wants us to record what he hopes will transpire so that if it all goes wrong we report what should have happened and not the actual events.’

  The briefing was detailed and Kha was fascinated. He wrote quickly on the papyrus spread across his knees, trying to write every detail. He noted that Minmose wrote less, just note taking. His full report he would make later.

  ‘The truth does not always make a good report,’ he had told Kha, ‘when you write history, never let the truth obstruct what your master wants the story to be. You and I might think the events were different, but those back in Kemet and the future history taught to generations of children, will only be what they are told.’

  The reports, clear and concise with no extraneous details, stated that seven princes had raised an army about four thousand strong and were determined to face Kemet in battle. The army consisted mostly of foreign mercenaries, as the actions of these hothead princes were, at least publicly, much against the wishes of the vassal Kings, their fathers. The princes were certain they would survive the battle and, if captured, were equally certain, their fathers would pay any ransom to have th
em released and returned to their cities.

  They believed their actions would make them heroes. A focal point for others to join them, assembling a mightier force able to take back control of their lands. For them it was not as important to win as it was to show their people they had the strength to stand up to the army that had humiliated them at Megiddo. A bitterness still festered in the memories of the older Naharina. The desire for vengeance was ingrained in the blood and psyche of the young.

  One of the Princes had recently returned from Nubia with a promise of soldiers from there to attack Kemet simultaneously from the south in a later war. Another had been to the Hittite Kingdom, where he was warmly welcomed and had returned with a pledge of two companies of Hittite charioteers equipped with the latest chariots. These arrived two days ago. Kha and the King were particularly interested in this news. Kha had many conversations about chariots with Khety. The King was a superb charioteer who had not been slow in making sure his prowess on the chariot and with the bow was amply publicised in scarabs, stelae and Temple walls.

  One of the reports included a scroll on which a drawing had been made of the new chariot. How Kha wished he could have seen it, copy it and show it to Khety.

  There was a great deal of detail and Kha wondered how all this had been discovered; he had never been involved in the world of espionage and counter espionage.

  The King listened to the reports carefully, he scrutinised the drawing of the chariot. When they were finished he thanked and dismissed the informants, instructing them to eat, rest and start their journey to Ineb-Hedj at first light.

  ‘It would not be wise for you to be seen near us tomorrow or afterwards in this area. If your information is correct, you have served me well. I shall reward you on my victorious return.’

  The spies walked past the seated Kha and Minmose, disappearing into the dark beyond the fires. Minmose told Kha later that they would be escorted to Ineb-Hedj by a platoon of soldiers who, as well as offering them protection from bandits or other attackers, would ensure they all stayed together so that if any of their information proved false the rewards the King would bestow may not be in jewels, land or slaves, but would be of a much more painful nature.

  ‘That Hittite bastard, Tudhaliya, is wanting to try out his new machines on us without risking a direct war,’ Amenhotep said. ‘Tjay, what is your opinion of these monstrosities?’

  Tjay walked over and stood looking over his King’s shoulder.

  ‘Interesting. Two horses will give some speed and with a driver and two bowmen, instead of our one, on each chariot. They are imposing, but I’m not impressed.’

  ‘You’re not easily impressed Tjay, but I want more from you than that. Purportedly we will be faced with two hundred of these on the battlefield; how do we counter?’

  ‘Lord, my opinion is that these chariots are designed for fighting on firm terrain. Their main advantage is to ride through infantry lines. They need two horses because they have to be extra wide to hold three men abreast. Their shields appear fixed and set high for protection from frontal attack, this will limit their shooting angles going forwards. We have two horses to aim at and bringing down just one will be sufficient to stop the chariot. The horses’ armour seems to be concentrated on their fronts and not protecting their flanks or necks. To counter them we avoid giving them an easy target to attack. We make sure we strike at their horses from the side and their soldiers from the rear.’

  Discussions went on deep into the night, Tjay and the other generals had varying ideas about the tactics to adopt. The King listened intently, occasionally asked a probing question but mostly just taking everything in. Finally, Amenhotep called a halt to the meeting.

  ‘It’s time for us all to rest. Tomorrow we’ll meet with the treacherous upstarts, as they have requested, and see if we can make them see sense without bloodshed. I hope they don’t take up the offer.’

  Kha and Minmose prostrated themselves as first the generals and then the King left the tent. Kha heard Tjay and the King in conversation as they went past but could not pick up the meaning. When everyone had gone, Kha and his companion carefully rolled up their scrolls and walked out. Servants, rushing in the opposite direction, pushed past them. They needed to prepare the tent for the King to sleep. It wouldn’t take them long to transform the war room into a bedroom fit for royalty. As the two scribes exited, Tjay was waiting for them.

  ‘The King has decided that Prince Thutmose will lead the delegation to speak with the belligerent princes, I will drive his chariot. Kha you will accompany us. Minmose you will stay here and attend the meeting with the generals who will need to further consider the tactics. Kha, be ready at Ra’s rising.’

  Saying this, he pushed the papyrus scroll he was holding into Kha’s hands.

  ‘One of your jobs tomorrow is to check the accuracy of these drawings.’

  *

  The quiet dawn was broken by sounding shenebs, awakening those in the camp who were sleeping. Kha was not among them. He hadn’t been able to keep his eyes closed for more than a few moments and was sitting beside a fire when the wakeup call was sounded. He stood and made his way through the camp in the direction of the King’s tent. Around him soldiers were rolling up the covers they had used during the night, it had been cold but this was not the only protection the covers gave. Sandflies were the curse of the marching army.

  Fifteen chariots set off to meet the enemy. Tjay drove the bronze chariot of Prince Thutmose. Kha remained towards the rear of the group; his driver was not happy that he had a civilian on board. A soldier, trained in the art of bowmanship and with sword and lance, could help protect him if things went wrong.

  ‘What good will you be in a fight, scribe? What will you do? Throw ink and papyrus at them?’ Kha thought that with such an attitude this was going to be a long, silent, surly journey and he was not wrong.

  The terrain changed. Kha recognised the road. He had travelled along it with Tjay.

  ‘A soldier enjoying a few days leave?’ Kha smiled.

  They came to a stretch of sand dunes. These would be hard on the horses, almost impossible to cross with chariots, the wheels sinking deep into the sand. Tjay led the troop around the dunes.

  Back on firm ground, Tjay called the chariots into formation. The chariots spread out into a single line. On the lances of the charioteers a standard was raised to show these were messengers from the King of Kemet and their safety was to be assured.

  ‘Keep bows and swords prepared,’ Thutmose ordered, taking his cue from Tjay. ‘Just in case.’

  The group moved forward slowly. Kha felt a knot in the pit of his stomach. He wished he was inspecting granary stores with Yuya, or at home with Merit or back in prison.

  Just a short time later, a shape began to form some distance away, shimmering in the heat haze. Each passing step brought the shape clearer into focus. A canopy had been erected. A group of chariots were lined up on the far side. Kha counted fifteen chariots on the opposite side of the canopy. These were, however, very different to those in which he and his companions were riding. The drawings he had studied were accurate. There were double the number of horses and at least double the width of carriage base. Three men stood aboard each chariot, the driver partially obscured behind the horses. The only parts of the two soldiers that could be seen above the shields were their heads, or rather, helmets and some of these were very decorative with long coloured plumes protruding from their tops.

  ‘Those will be the princes,’ Kha said half to himself. His driver neither responded nor reacted.

  With a hand signal, Tjay ordered the Kemetian chariots to halt about twenty paces from the canopy, matching the distance of those facing. A man, dressed as a messenger ran from the Naharina contingent, approaching the bronze chariot. When he was at about ten paces away Thutmose shouted to him.

  ‘Come no further, if you have a message to give, tell us f
rom there.’

  The messenger obeyed.

  ‘My Lords command that no more than eight of your number shall attend the meeting under the canopy and there will be eight from my Lords to speak with you.’

  ‘That seems a large number, why do I not just meet one to one with your leader?’ asked Thutmose.

  ‘My Lords command that no more than eight of your number shall attend the meeting under the canopy and there will be eight from my Lords to speak with you,’ repeated the messenger. ‘I have no further message. Do you have reply?’

  ‘Tell your Lords we agree, but we think it a very large number.’

  ‘Already a good sign. They have no single leader, war has never been won by committee,’ Tjay said to Thutmose.

  Tjay called over a soldier and ordered him to take hold of the reins of the Prince’s chariot as the two men jumped down onto the ground.

  ‘Kha, you come with us and the first two soldiers from my left and three from my right also join us. Leave your bows in the chariots but keep your swords ready.’

  The eight men walked towards the canopy, the military men marching in step. Each pace appeared harder for Kha to take. He was not a soldier; he was not a diplomat and was not enjoying the experience.

  ‘What in the name of Shai and Renenet am I doing here?’ he thought.

  His confusion was heightened by the fact that the meeting was carried out in a strange language that he didn’t understand. Not being able to concentrate, his mind wandered. He began looking at the chariots of the Naharina which had arrived from the Hittite King. He walked to the edge of the canopy, taking in the details of what was around him. He now realised why he was here. Suddenly one pair of the horses was startled by something and reared up. The commotion caused all, under the canopy, to turn and look. Soldiers’ hands, on both sides, reached for their scabbarded swords. A shout came from the driver which, although Kha could not understand, relieved the tension and the soldiers relaxed. Some even managed a smile. The charioteer turned his chariot, making two wide circles, coming very close to Kha, as he did so, before bringing them back into line, quieter now, settled.