by Wilbur Smith
“No.” Taita shook his head. “It was a gentle nudge I gave to you. The rest of it is yours. You have inherited the military instincts of your father, Pharaoh Tamose. You will achieve the greatness that might have been his, had he not died so cruelly at the hands of the enemy who faces us now.”
“It is time for me to avenge that death,” Nefer said. “Let us ensure that we do not let the cobra slither away again.”
Over the days that followed Nefer exercised his forces, and rehearsed in detail the plans and tactics of his defense. The battalions of archers and slingers marched out each morning and took up their positions behind the rough, ungainly walls. They placed small cairns of stones in front of the walls to mark the range, so that they would be able to judge precisely the moment to spring the trap. They concealed bundles of spare arrows close at hand so that they would not run short of missiles during the battle. The slingers moulded their clay balls and baked them in the fire until they were rock hard. Then they laid up mounds of these deadly missiles behind the walls, close at hand.
During the exercises, Nefer and his commanders played the role of Naja’s troops and rode in from the desert, viewing their dispositions with a critical eye, making certain that they were completely concealed by the breastworks.
Then, while they waited, Nefer rehearsed his tactics before the walls, charging, wheeling and retreating, covering the ground so that his men came to know every fold, plain and gully, even the location of the aardvark holes and other small obstacles across the field. He chose carefully the secure points behind the walls where he could water the horses during the battle, and where his reserves would be held until they were needed. “I doubt that there was ever a commander able to learn the board on which the game will be played as intimately as I,” Nefer told Taita, and ordered his squadrons out again to go through the same evolutions.
In the evening he rode back into the fort at the head of his squadron. The dust had mingled with his sweat and caked his face and body. He was weary to the bone, but content in the knowledge that he had done all in his power to ready his legions for what lay ahead.
When he pulled up Krus and Dov, threw the reins to the grooms and jumped down onto the hard-baked parade-ground, his sense of well-being evaporated. Zugga, the head eunuch of the royal zenana, was waiting for him, wringing his fat hands, his eyes red with weeping and his reedy voice whining with fear. “Great Pharaoh, forgive me. I did my best, but she is wily as a vixen. She has outwitted me.”
“Who is this vixen?” Nefer demanded, although he knew who it must be.
“The Princess Mintaka.”
“What has happened to her?” Nefer’s voice was harsh with alarm.
“She has run away, and taken the Princess Merykara with her,” blubbered Zugga, in sure expectation of the strangling garotte.
Mintaka and Merykara spent much of the journey back to Avaris huddled together in the screened litter, whispering as they planned their escape. They soon discarded the notion of seizing one of the chariots from their escort and riding away in it. In the unlikely event that they were able to trick or overpower one of the charioteers, they knew that within an hour they would have the entire army of Egypt on their heels, led by a wrathful pharaoh. Gradually a better plan emerged from their deliberations.
Mintaka’s first endeavor was to make herself agreeable to Zugga, their guardian and jailer, and to impress him with her submissive resignation to his authority. By the time they reached the palace in Avaris four days later, she had him completely gulled, believing only the best of her gentle, innocent nature. There, in the most pretty and convincing manner, she appealed to Zugga to allow her and Merykara to visit the temple of Hathor to pray for the safety of Nefer and his victory in the looming battle. With some misgivings, Zugga acquiesced and the two women were able to spend almost an hour alone with the high priestess in the sanctuary of the temple. Zugga waited anxiously at the door, for no man, not even a eunuch, was allowed to enter the sanctum.
Great was Zugga’s relief, and all his suspicions set at rest, when Mintaka and Merykara at last reemerged, both as beautiful, demure and innocent as any of the temple virgins. A few days later when they asked to be allowed to pray again in the temple, and to make sacrifice to the goddess, Zugga was amenable to the request and waddled beside their litter chatting blithely through the curtain, and relating to the princesses the most juicy items of scandal in the life of the palace.
Once again the high priestess was waiting in the forecourt of the temple to greet Mintaka and Merykara and lead them into the sanctum. Without misgivings Zugga settled down to await the return of the lovely royal pair. The high priestess sent out two of her acolytes to serve him an overflowing platter of grilled chicken and fish, together with a large jar of excellent wine. Zugga ate it all and polished off the contents of the jug, then fell asleep in the shadow of the cow effigy of the goddess. When he woke the sun had set and he was alone. He saw that the litter bearers had gone. He heaved his vast bulk upright and experienced twinges in his belly that were not caused by dyspepsia but by a pressing sense of alarm. He shouted for attention and beat on the temple door with his staff. It was a long time before a priestess came to him with a message: “The two princesses have pleaded for sanctuary within the temple. The holy mother has granted their plea, and taken them under her protection.”
Zugga was thrown into turmoil. The sanctuary of the temple was inviolate. He could not demand the return of his charges, not even under the authority of Pharaoh. The only course open to him was to return to Ismailiya and confess his failure, but that was risky. The young Pharaoh had not yet revealed his true nature, and his rage might well be fatal.
The moment the temple doors closed behind them Mintaka and Merykara dropped their pretense of resigned innocence.
“Have you made the arrangements, Holy Mother?” Mintaka demanded eagerly.
“Have no fear, daughter. All is in readiness.” The priestess’s brown eyes sparkled with amusement. Clearly she was enjoying this escapade, a break from the tranquil routine of temple life. “I took the liberty of slipping a mild sleeping draft into the eunuch’s wine.” She giggled. “I hope you will not think I have overstepped myself, and that you will forgive me.”
Mintaka kissed her smooth, pale cheek. “I am sure Hathor will be as proud of you as I am.”
The priestess led them to a cell where all the items that Mintaka had requested were laid out for them. They dressed hastily in the rough peasant garments, and covered their heads with woolen shawls. Then, carrying the leather pouches slung across their shoulders, they followed the high priestess through the maze of corridors. The temple backed onto the Nile, and they became aware of the gentle swish of the river current against the outer walls growing louder ahead of them. At last they stepped out through a low doorway into the sunshine, and on to the jetty where a large dhow was moored. “The captain has been paid with the gold you gave me, and he knows where to go. All the other items you asked for are stowed in your cabin on board,” she said.
“You know what to tell Zugga,” Mintaka said, and the old woman giggled again.
“I am sure that Hathor will forgive me such an insignificant falsehood. It is in such a good cause.”
As the pair jumped down onto the deck of the dhow, the crew, who had been dozing in the shade, scrambled to their feet and rushed to set the lateen sail. Without waiting for orders, the captain steered out into the main flow of the current and turned the bow downstream, heading for the delta. For the rest of that day Mintaka and Merykara stayed in the tiny cabin, taking no chance that they might be recognized from the shore, or from a passing riverboat. In the late afternoon the dhow moored briefly against the east bank and two armed men came aboard, carrying heavy sacks. Immediately the dhow captain hoisted the sail again and they pressed on with all speed downriver. The two men came to the cabin and prostrated themselves before Mintaka.
“May all the gods love you, Majesty,” said the bigger of the two, a beard
ed Hyksos with large nose and strong features. “We are your dogs. We came as soon as we received your summons.”
“Lok!” Mintaka smiled with pleasure to see his well-remembered face, and then turned to the other man. “And surely this is your son, Lokka.” He seemed as big and doughty as his father. “You are both well met and welcome. You, Lok, served my father well. Will you and your son do the same for me?” She spoke in the Hyksosian language.
“With our lives, mistress!” they told her.
“I will have hard employment for you once we go ashore, but until then rest and prepare your weapons.”
The dhow captain selected one of the many mouths of the delta where the current slowed and meandered through swamps and lagoons over which hovered clouds of waterfowl. Darkness fell before they reached the open sea, but the dhow captain steered his craft unerringly through the shallows and the hidden sandbars, until at last the miasma of the swamps was blown away on the clean salt airs of the Mediterranean. The two girls came up on deck.
“Just about now, Zugga will realize that we have flown.” Mintaka smiled at Merykara. “I wonder what he will tell Nefer. That we are safely locked up in the temple under the wing of the high priestess? I hope so.”
With half a moon in the sky they sailed out of the confined waterways and felt the scend of the open sea lift the deck beneath their feet. As soon as he had made his offing and there was deep water under his hull, the captain turned eastward and hugged the coast throughout the night.
In the dawn Mintaka and Merykara stood in the bow, huddled in their shawls for warmth. They stared south at the low, bleak desert shore to their right.
“To think that Nefer is only a few leagues out there,” Mintaka whispered. “I feel as though I could reach out my hand to touch him.”
“Meren is there too, only a little further to the east. What a surprise they would have to know that we are so close.”
“My heart yearns for Nefer. I pray every hour to Horus and Hathor to keep him safe.”
“You no longer hate him, then?” Merykara asked.
“I never did,” Mintaka denied hotly, then hesitated. “Well, perhaps for a moment and only a very little.”
“I know just how you feel,” Merykara assured her. “At times, they can be so stubborn and bull-headed and…” she sought for a word to describe it “…and so male.”
“Yes!” Mintaka agreed. “That’s it exactly. Like children. I suppose we must forgive them, for they cannot help themselves.”
During the rest of that day and the following night they sailed eastward along the coast, through the Khalig el Tina and along the string of islands and sandbars that enclosed the vast lagoon of the Sabkhet el Bardawill. The next morning the dhow edged in toward the beach at El Arish, and as soon as the water was waist-deep the two bodyguards, Lok and Lokka, carried the women ashore, then waded back to the boat to fetch the baggage. The small party stood and watched the crew of the dhow row off, then set the sail and head back out to sea for the return to Egypt and the delta.
“Well, we have done it,” said Merykara uncertainly. Despite Mintaka’s company, she was feeling vulnerable and alone. “But what do we do now?” She sounded close to tears.
“I will send Lok to find transport for us,” said Mintaka, and then to give her comfort and a little more confidence she went on to explain to Merykara, “Nefer might have stopped us going southward through the desert to find my Uncle Tonka, but we have outwitted him.” She smiled more gaily than her spirits dictated, for she was even more aware than Merykara of their invidious position. “Just think how furious Nefer and Meren would be if they only knew!” They laughed together, and Mintaka went on, “Here we are in the rear of Naja’s advancing army, and the road between Beersheba and Ismailiya lies a very few leagues south of us. When Lok finds a cart or wagon for us we can lose ourselves in the baggage train of Naja’s army, hide among the camp-followers until we can reach the headquarters of Uncle Tonka.”
It was not quite as easy to find transport as Mintaka had made it sound. The quartermasters of Naja’s army had been ahead of them, and had seized wagons and horses, as well as food and provisions, from the local populace. In the end they had to settle for a string of five decrepit donkeys, and they had to pay dearly for these, with two heavy gold rings and two of silver. The animals were barely able to support the weight of even the two women, let alone their bodyguards, so they walked most of the rugged path southward, until on the third day after landing they topped a rise and saw in the valley below them the tail of the army of Pharaoh Naja. This great host filled the main east-to-west road in both directions as far as the eye could see, and the dust it raised sullied the sky like the smoke from a forest fire.
They went down to join it, and found themselves in the baggage train. They fell in with the long caravan of wagons and pack animals. Mintaka and Merykara kept their heads and faces covered, and in their dusty, bedraggled clothing excited little notice. Lok and Lokka chaperoned them closely, and discouraged the attentions of any other travelers. The rate of march was of the slowest, so even on the poor donkeys they were moving a little faster than the rest of the cavalcade and, like a scrap of flotsam in the mighty river, they drifted forward toward the head. As they went they passed every type and condition of humanity, beggars and bawds, merchants and water-carriers, barbers, coppersmiths and carpenters, troubadours and jugglers. There were captains splendid in the Gold of Valor, driving their chariots furiously through the throng, lashing out of their path the limping cripples on their crutches, and the army women with their bastards at the breast, feeding on the march, toddlers whining at their skirts.
Mintaka and Merykara kept up the best speed the wretched donkeys could manage, and they camped that first night under the stars, surrounded by the campfires, the hubbub and stench of this immense agglomeration of humanity.
In the dawn, as soon as it was light enough to see the road underfoot, they set off again. Before noon they had caught up with the rearguard of the main army: the marching companies of spearmen, and the ranks of archers with bows unstrung, the battalions of slingers singing their marching songs in the barbaric language of the western islands. Next they passed the long lines of the horses of the remount division, twenty to a string, being led behind the fodder wagons and the water carts. Mintaka marveled at the numbers: it did not seem possible that there were so many animals in all Egypt.
The soldiers looked at the two women, and not even their shoddy dress or the voluminous shawls wound around their heads could hide their youth and grace from such discerning eyes. They called suggestive compliments and lewd invitations as they passed, but the discipline of their officers and the stern presence of Lok and Lokka kept them from any further advances.
That evening they kept on traveling after the main army had encamped and after sunset they came upon a large zareba of poles and thombushes just off the road. This had been set up in an easily defended defile of low hills. The entrance was heavily guarded, and there was much activity around it, the marching and countermarching of the sentries, the scurrying of servants and orderlies and the coming and going of chariots driven by officers of the Red. Above the gate of the stockade flew the gonfalon that Mintaka recognized at once: on it was depicted the severed head of a wild boar with its tongue lolling from the corner of its tusked jaws.
“This is the man we are looking for,” Mintaka whispered to Merykara.
“But how do we get in to see him?” Merykara asked doubtfully, eyeing the sentries.
They made their own rudimentary camp a little farther down the road, but within sight of the gates of the regimental headquarters of General Prenn, centurion of the Red, and the commander of the rearguard of the pharaonic army.
From one of the leather saddlebags Mintaka brought out the precious oil lamp that had so far survived the journey, and by its light she wrote a short message on a scrap of papyrus parchment. It was addressed to “Uncle Bear” and signed “from your little cricket.”
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br /> The two women washed the dust from their faces, dressed each other’s hair and shook out their chitons. Then, hand in hand to give each other courage, they approached the gate of the stockade. The sergeant of the guard saw them coming and stepped out in front of them to head them off. “Come now, you two juicy pieces of prong bait. You know better than to come flaunting your joy-clefts hereabouts. Get away with you.”
“You look like a kind and good man,” Mintaka told him primly. “Would you allow any ruffian to talk to your own daughters in that coarse fashion?”
The sergeant checked, and gawked at her. She spoke the Hyksos language in the cultured tones and accent of the aristocracy. He lifted his lantern and shone the light upon them. Their dress was common, but their features made him draw breath sharply. These were clearly young women of high rank. In fact, their faces were disturbingly familiar, even though he could not immediately place them.
“Forgive me, ladies,” he mumbled. “Mistook you for—” He broke off, and Mintaka smiled graciously.
“Of course, you are forgiven. Will you deliver a message for us to Centurion Prenn?” She proffered the rolled parchment.
The sergeant hesitated a moment before he took it. “I am sorry, but I will have to ask you to wait here until I have an instruction from him.”
He came hurrying back within a very short time. “My ladies! I am desolated to have kept you waiting. Please follow me.”
He led them to a pavilion of colored linen in the center of the stockade, and there was another short delay as he whispered to the junior officer in charge of the entrance. Then they were led through into the tent. The interior was sparsely furnished and the floor was covered by animal skins, oryx, zebra and leopard. On these a man was sitting cross-legged with maps and scrolls spread about him, and a wooden platter on his lap containing grilled ribs and a lump of dhurra bread. He looked up as the girls entered. His face was gaunt, his cheeks sunken, and even the ribbons in his beard could not disguise the fact that it was more gray than black. A leather patch covered one eye. He scowled at them.