by Wilbur Smith
Taita smiled. “Precipitous action on the part of the Princess is always a distinct possibility. However, I know well enough where my first duty lies. I will go with you.” Though Nefer argued long and strenuously, Taita was adamant, and in the end Nefer was secretly relieved to know that the old man would be at his side, as always.
Even with the latest arrival of troops to their cause, they could muster only thirty-two battle-ready chariots, and less than a hundred horses fit enough to draw them.
They left half of the chariots under the command of Shabako to defend Gallala. Taking Hilto and Meren with them, they set out with sixteen fighting vehicles to drive around the eastern shore of the Great Bitter Lake and intercept the main route north of Ismailiya. The new moon was only days past full, the nights dark but pleasantly cool, so they made good progress, and completed the journey through the uncharted wilderness before the moon was into its second quarter.
At dawn on the fifteenth day after leaving Gallala they lay hidden on the hills to the east of Ismailiya, from where they could overlook the town. The main highway ran below their lookout post and the army of the two pharaohs would have to pass this way. Ismailiya was the Egyptian border fortress, and the natural starting point for the campaign.
“It seems that our intelligence is good enough,” Nefer called down to Taita. He had climbed one of the tall cedar trees on the front slope of the hill, and from there he had a fine uninterrupted view over many leagues of terrain. “The town is swarming with activity. There are horse lines and a city of tents outside the walls of the fort.” He shaded his eyes. “There are clouds of dust coming up the road from the delta. It looks like all the wagons and chariots of Egypt are on the march.”
He continued to call down his sightings to the Magus through the rest of that morning, until the heat had built up to the point where all activity around the city and upon the roads fell off into the somnolent noonday. Then he climbed down and went to find shade, like the rest of the squadron, to wait out the hot hours.
In the late afternoon as the air cooled, they roused themselves to feed and water the horses. Then Nefer climbed once more to his vantage-point.
It was at once apparent that they had arrived just in time. The road to the east was an artery pulsing with the life force of a mighty army. Squadron after squadron, fifty chariots strong, wound out through the gates of Ismailiya, each followed by wagons carrying their baggage and fodder, and streamed down the road toward their hiding-place. The vanguard passed so close to where Nefer sat in the high branches of the cedar tree that he could make out individuals among them.
The army flowed by like an endless river, glinting with the reflections of bronze weapons, and the dust rose in a dense cloud over it all until it threatened to obscure the sun.
Four cohorts made up the vanguard, and then came a gap. Obviously this was to let the dust settle a little and to alleviate the discomfort of the royal party that followed.
Next came two chariots riding abreast. Both vehicles were covered with gold leaf, and so massive that each needed six horses to draw it. Nefer’s hatred rose with the taste of gall into the back of his throat as he recognized the drivers.
Trok had the reins of the nearest chariot. There was no mistaking his broad shoulders nor the dark, beribboned bush of his beard. He wore a gold helmet shaped like a beehive, decorated with a crest of foaming white ostrich plumes. On his shoulder clanged the double shield, each leaf as thick as his thumb, so weighty that it was said that he alone of all his army could wield it, just like the great war bow in the rack at his right hand.
In the other great chariot rode Pharaoh Naja Kiafan. Like his namesake the cobra, he cut a slimmer, more graceful figure. He wore a pectoral of gold and precious stones that sparkled in the red sunlight that filtered through the dust clouds. On his head he wore the blue war crown of Egypt, and at his side, sheathed in silver and electrum, studded with turquoise and lapis lazuli, was the legendary blue sword that he had plundered from the body of Nefer’s father.
Strangely, though he lacked the physical stature of Trok, Naja was the more threatening of the two.
The golden chariots passed and were hidden by their own dust clouds, but Nefer remained stretched out on the main branch of the cedar tree as the warlike phalanxes rolled by below him.
The sun had slipped below the horizon, but there was still just enough light to make out the next section of the endless procession. Nefer straightened up with renewed interest and attention.
Swaying and rolling over the surface of the highway, which was already rutted by the passage of the hundreds of chariots and wagons that had preceded them, came two litters drawn by teams of bullocks. They were so capacious, the silk curtains decorated with golden stars and rosettes, that Nefer knew the passengers within must be women of the royal harem. Nefer could not imagine Trok taking his wives or concubines on campaign with him—he had heard that Trok relied for his pleasure on the prisoners he took from the captured enemy towns and that he enjoyed boys and girls with equal gusto. So if they did not belong to Trok, they must be Naja’s women. Nefer wondered if Naja had tired of Heseret and taken other wives.
Then the curtain of the second litter jerked open, a girl jumped down into the dusty roadway and skipped along beside the bullocks. Though she had changed markedly since he had last seen her, he could not doubt that this lovely creature was Merykara, his younger sister. She no longer wore the side-lock of childhood, her hair was bobbed upon her shoulders and cut in a thick straight fringe at the level of her eyebrows. The loss of her side-lock was the token that she had seen her first red moon. Nefer felt a pang that his funny little monkey was a child no more. Then it occurred to him that there was no longer any impediment to Naja taking Merykara to the connubial bed. He had heard that Naja was a voluptuous satyr and the idea of him ravishing his little sister revolted Nefer so much that he could taste it in the back of his throat, like rotten fish.
He felt an overwhelming desire to speak to Merykara, to learn if she was happy, if there was aught he could do to make her lot easier. Then it ocurred to him to rescue her and take her back to Gallala. He knew that such thoughts were dangerous, and that his comrades would try to dissuade him from such a suicidal fantasy.
Following close behind the litters he saw the carts carrying the war chests of the false pharaohs. Here was a motive that the others would understand. They were unornamented carts painted a dull, somber blue, but sturdily built and with the trucks reinforced to withstand the great weight of their cargo. The metal-shod wheels cut deeply into the road surface. The doors at the rear of the truck bed were chained and locked, and armed men marched beside them. These were the standard conveyances of the treasures without which no army marched. Nefer knew that they contained gold bullion cast into bars and fingers, rings and beads. These would be used to pay the troops, and to buy the allegiance of minor kings and satraps, to subvert the allies of Babylon and Assyria and to bribe spies and informers in the ranks of the enemy.
Nefer slid down the trunk of the cedar to the ground. Taita was dozing quietly there, but he opened his eyes before Nefer could touch his arm. “The war chests of the false pharaohs,” Nefer whispered in his ear. “Enough to pay an army or buy a throne.”
For many nights that followed, Nefer and the Magus stalked the column from the moonlit shadows, moving parallel to the carts that carried the treasure, observing the routine and behavior of the guards. From the first they realized that it would be impossible to seize the carts and carry away that mass of bullion without the entire army coming down upon them.
“At the speed those oxen are capable of maintaining, Naja’s chariots would catch us before we had gone a league with them,” Nefer observed ruefully.
“We will need to be a little more subtle than that,” Taita agreed. “The only time when we might be able to tamper with the chests would be when they go into laager during the day.”
“What about the guards?”
“Ah!” said Tai
ta. “The guards will present some small problem.”
Each day when the sun rose high and the heat became oppressive the entire army went into laager. The litters bearing the royal wives, and treasure carts were usually placed in a separate encampment a short distance from the main army. At first there was a great bustle as the animals were loosed from their harness, fed and watered, the sentries posted and the tents of the wives erected. Then the fires were lit and the midday meal was cooked and eaten, washed down with beer. After that Heseret, Merykara and their maids retired to their tents. The men who were not on sentry duty lay down under makeshift shelters to rest after the long night’s journey. Gradually a languid silence fell over the huge muster of men and animals, and the camp slept.
Nefer and Taita left the rest of their party lying in a patch of dense thornbush up in the valley and crept to the camp. They were able to get within a few hundred paces of the sentries and lie there unobserved for an hour, whispering together, trying to find some manner of reaching the war chests without being discovered by the sentries.
“Is there no way we can distract them?” Nefer asked.
“For that we will need help from inside the camp,” Taita said.
“Merykara?” Nefer looked at him sharply.
“Merykara,” Taita agreed.
“How can we get a message to her?” Nefer looked puzzled, but Taita smiled, touched the Periapt of Lostris that hung on his necklace and closed his eyes. After a while Nefer thought he had fallen asleep. The old man knew exactly how to infuriate him.
His age is catching up with him at last, he thought irritably, and was about to shake him awake, when he heard voices from the camp, and looked up.
Merykara had come out of her tent. She had obviously been sleeping, for her face was flushed and marked by the pillow. She stretched and yawned. She wore only a blue linen skirt, whose pleats hung below her knees. Her upper body was bare. Despite himself Nefer was astonished at the way her breasts had bloomed: they were pear-shaped and the nipples stood proud and rosy. Merykara was arguing with the guard at the entrance to her tent and her voice rose imperiously so that Nefer could hear every word. “I cannot sleep, and I am going out to walk awhile.” The sentry was trying to restrain her, but she shook her head until her hair danced on her shoulders. “No, I will not let you escort me. I want to be alone.” The sentry insisted and she flared at him, “Stand aside, you insolent creature, or I will report your behavior to my husband.” Reluctantly the sentry acceded to her orders and grounded his spear. He called after her anxiously, “Please, Your Majesty, be not too long nor venture too far. It will be more than my miserable life is worth should Pharaoh find out about this.”
Merykara ignored him, ducked through the horses’ lines and came out through the gate of the thornbush fence that surrounded the camp. She looked back only once to make certain that she was not observed by any of the sentries. Then as though to an assignation, she came directly to where Nefer and Taita lay among the desert scrub.
Nefer saw that her green eyes were rapt and that there was an intent expression on her lovely face, as though she were listening to music that she alone could hear.
When she was close enough to touch, Nefer said softly, “Merykara, don’t be afraid. It’s Nefer.”
She started like an awakening sleep-walker and stared down at him. Then her face lit with an expression of untrammeled joy and she sprang forward to embrace him.
“Wait!” Nefer ordered. “Don’t betray us to the guards.”
He was proud of her, for she obeyed him and stopped instantly. She had always been an intelligent child. She glanced around quickly and her voice trembled when she said softly, “I was sound asleep, but suddenly I woke and knew that I had to come out into the desert. It was almost as though a voice in my head was calling to me.” She looked at Taita. “Was it your voice, Magus?” Then her eyes went back to Nefer. “Darling brother, you will never know how I have missed you. First I thought you were dead, and I mourned in your funeral procession with ashes on my head. Look, here are the scars where I cut my arms to bleed for you.”
“I am alive, Merykara. Believe me, this is no shade you are looking at.”
“I know, Nefer. All the world knows now how you took Mintaka away from Avaris into the desert, and I knew in my heart that you would come for me also, one day.” She smiled through happy tears. “I knew you would come.”
“Yes,” Nefer said, “we will take you away with us. But first there is something you must do to help us.”
“Anything for you and Taita,” she agreed readily.
Speaking swiftly and urgently, Taita told her what she had to do, and then he made her repeat it. She did so faultlessly. “You are a clever girl, my little one,” Taita said. “That is exactly what we want you to do.” He handed her a small packet. “Here is the powder. Remember, just enough to cover your fingernail in each jar.”
“First you call me clever, and then you treat me as though I were stupid,” she snapped.
“Forgive me, Your Majesty.” Taita made a gesture of penitence.
“Don’t call me that either. I hate being married to that slimy serpent, and now I know what he is going to do to me, I hate it even more.”
“You are not easy to please, Merykara. Now, go back to the camp before the guards come looking for you.”
She stooped quickly and kissed Nefer on the lips. “Until tomorrow then, my beloved brother.”
The following noon the mighty army of Egypt camped below the high plateau where the sandy desert and the dry lands ended. They had almost completed the crossing and tomorrow they would go up through the pass into the cooler lands where the oases were only a day’s journey apart, where forests and fields and vineyards grew and mountain streams flowed all year round.
When the escort of the royal wives began to set up camp for the day, they found that the young Queen Merykara was fractious and overbearing, not at all her usual sweet and gracious self. She wanted her own tent set farther apart from that of her sister, Queen Heseret, and when this was done she insisted that they move the carts that carried the army war chests down into a narrow wadi two hundred paces from the main encampment. In vain the commander of the guard pointed out that the bed of the wadi was soft and sandy and the wheels of the heavy vehicles would sink in deeply.
“I don’t care if they disappear into the sand completely,” she told him. “I am sick of looking at those ugly carts and listening to the mooing of the bullocks. Get them out of my sight.”
The commander thought of appealing to Pharaoh Naja Kiafan to ratify this unreasonable order from his youngest wife. Then he contemplated the fact that the column was spread out over almost four leagues of desert. It would take an hour of hard riding to reach Pharaoh at its head, and the return ride would be just as arduous. The day was even hotter than those that had preceded it and, besides, he had a tryst with one of Merykara’s slave girls, an enchanting little black Nubian who knew more tricks than a performing monkey. He moved the carts into the wadi bottom and, as a sop to his conscience, doubled the guard upon them.
Having got her own way, Merykara became once again the endearing girl they all loved so well.
“I am so sorry I was hard on you, Moram. It must be this awful heat that affects us all,” she told the commander of the guard sweetly in front of his men. “I am going to have Misha bring you five jars of the finest beer from my private stores to make it up to you. But be certain that you share it equally with all your men, for I have given them extra work and trouble too.”
Misha, the statuesque Nubian maid with an imperious carriage and a legendary pair of buttocks, brought the beer jars to Moram’s tent, and the men lined up to receive their share, calling down the gods’ blessings on Queen Merykara and toasting her health as they swigged down the first draft of the frothing liquor.
Despite his promise to Merykara, the beer was of such surpassing excellence that Moram drank more than his share. As soon as they were alone in his te
nt he pounced on Misha, who, squealing and resisting playfully, finally allowed him to lift her clothing and unveil her prodigious buttocks. They sprang out from under her short linen skirts, shining black as new mined anthracite, great quivering rounds, dark full moons that overflowed his clutching hands.
In a transport of lust he mounted her, but after less than a dozen mighty thrusts, he keeled over slowly, fast asleep before he reached the floor. Misha stared at him in astonishment. Nothing like this had ever happened to her in all her short but busy lifetime. Moram let out a snore that reverberated like distant thunder, and she sprang to her feet, pulled on her skirt, delivered one furious kick to his sleeping form and stormed out of the tent back to her mistress. The guard at the entrance to the royal tent was also sleeping like a dead man.
“All men are pigs,” Misha said, in her savage native tongue, and kicked him with all the strength of her long and shapely right leg.
Nefer led a small party of his men down the dry riverbed. They kept close under the bank, and the soft sand muffled their footsteps.
The four treasure carts were drawn up side by side, and their wheels were chained together so that they could not be driven off in haste by bandits or robbers.
Eight armed men were posted around them as sentries, and every one was laid out on the soft sand like a corpse awaiting the embalmers. Taita went to each in turn, felt for the pulse in the throat, then drew back a lid to examine the eye of the unconscious man. Finally he nodded to Nefer, and went to the rear door of the first cart.
He took a long bronze probe from his pouch and worked intently on the massive bronze lock. It fell open and the hasp snapped back. Taita swung open the heavy metal door to reveal the four small cases that were tied down to ringbolts in the wagon bed. The lids of the treasure chests were sealed with a clay tablet that carried the cartouche of Pharaoh Naja Kiafan.