by Max Overton
***
Tausret knew all about the conversation before Bay informed her that the king would go hunting, but she kept silent, knowing from her own hunters that lions had not been seen east of the city. She presumed that Siptah had just got carried away by thought of hunting the large carnivore and that Bay was, for once, truthful in his utterances. The Regent gave her permission and Bay thanked her. It was all very civil.
The expedition set out, the hunting chariots being loaded onto a ferry to cross the Great River, and headed eastward across the river plain and into the dry scrubland on the borders of the red desert. Bay rode with the king in a heavy three-man chariot, while two smaller ones followed. Further back, three ox-drawn wagons contained the minimum comforts a king had a right to expect, even in the wilderness. Siptah chattered, hardly able to contain his excitement, though he first expressed some doubt at the preparations his uncle had made.
"I don't know why you chose a heavy chariot, Uncle. We won't be able to go over rough ground at any speed. I suppose the other chariots will do, but three wagons only? We might be gone some days."
"I wanted the three-man chariot so I could ride with you, Son of Re," Bay said. "There are things we must discuss."
"You're not going to spoil this hunt with serious talk are you? I want to enjoy myself."
"Not at all, Majesty, but enjoy yourself for now. Take pleasure in the freedom of the road, the heat of the sun and the cries of the circling hawk, and be not concerned. I will talk to you later."
The opportunity came the next day. Bay had sent the hunters out at dawn to check for spoor, and later in the morning suggested that they drive out alone. Siptah looked at his uncle as if trying to discern the reason behind his suggestion and then shrugged.
"Why not?"
A mere half hour brought them to a gully with scattered thorn trees along its edges and here Bay ordered the charioteer to wait while he and the king proceeded on foot.
"Why can't Ahmose wait here and we take the chariot?" Siptah demanded. "It's too hot to be walking around in this wilderness. And besides, my leg hurts."
"You will see the reason for my request soon enough, Majesty."
Siptah grumbled in a most unkingly manner but dismounted and, with the aid of his cane, lurched along behind his uncle.
"How far are we going?"
"Not far, Majesty. Just up that hill."
"I can't climb up there."
"With my help you can."
Bay soon had to drop back and support Siptah as they hauled themselves upward over small boulders and through loose rock. They slipped and almost fell several times, but after less than an hour they sat, panting and sweating, on a rock at the top. The hill was, in reality, not even as high as the pylons of the Temple of Ptah in Men-nefer, but it felt like they had conquered a mountain.
"I'm thirsty," Siptah said.
"I regret to say I did not bring any water with me, Majesty."
"Then we must go back down to the chariot at once. That was a silly mistake, Uncle."
"In a little while. There are some things we must discuss while we are alone."
"Couldn't you have said them back at the palace? Or even at the camp? It's hot and I'm thirsty, so..."
"Tausret means to kill you, Son of Re."
"What?"
"My spies have brought me word that she discussed how to get rid of you...and me, of course...with Tjaty Montu."
"That's...that's...she can't do that. I mean, people wouldn't let her. Would they? I'm the king. You can't just kill the king." Tears formed in Siptah's eyes.
"At the moment she is only discussing the possibility, Majesty. That gives us some time, so we must discuss how we can turn this to our advantage. Now do you see why I insisted we come all the way out here, where no man can possibly overhear us?"
Siptah nodded and wiped away his tears. "You have a plan, don't you, Uncle?"
"Indeed I do, Majesty, but it is a risky one and we will have to stake everything on it."
"Tell me."
"We kill her instead."
Siptah stared and licked his lips. "Is...is it possible?"
"Anything is possible if one is forthright and brave."
"But to kill a woman..."
"Not just a woman, but a powerful regent. That is why she must go. She has tasted the power of rulership and will not give it up. The only obstacle between her and the throne is you, Majesty. Kill you and she can reign as King of Kemet."
"She's a woman," Siptah scoffed. "She can't be king."
"It has happened before, Majesty. Were you taught nothing of the history of the kings of Kemet? Maatkare Hatshepsut was her name. She desired the throne and grasped it, defying custom and the gods to rule as king over all Kemet."
"The gods put me on the throne," Siptah declared. "They would not let a usurper take my place."
"The gods might have little to say about a dagger in the night or a poisoned cup," Bay said dryly. "They make their will known by signs and portents, but rarely step down onto the earth and interfere in the affairs of man."
"Then I'll have to kill Tausret first. How should I do it? Have her arrested and executed? But on what charge?"
"Unfortunately, she is too powerful for that to succeed. An attempt to arrest her would doubtless precipitate your overthrow as she has powerful friends."
"Ament, you mean? I suppose we will have to have him killed too."
"Yes, Majesty, and to be complete we must remove Seti-Merenptah as well."
"But he's only a baby."
"And the son of the previous king's loins. Even if we removed Tausret, he would remain as a rallying point for traitors. He must go too."
Siptah looked unhappy. "I don't like the idea of killing a child. I'm not sure I could do it."
"You won't have to. I will arrange for the deaths myself. All you are required to do is look suitably surprised and dismayed."
"Then you should not have told me, Uncle. I can't keep a secret like that and not look guilty when I'm found out."
"You will have to, Majesty. The reason I'm telling you beforehand is in case something goes wrong. Then you can act to preserve my life."
"What do you mean by 'something goes wrong'? If you try and kill Tausret and fail, you won't get a second chance. In fact," Siptah added morosely, "we'll probably both die very quickly."
"I won't fail, Majesty. First I remove the Queen's dog Ament--by an accident. Then I remove the boy, either by accident or poison. Lastly, when Tausret is prostrate with grief I will have her killed. Nothing can go wrong if it is properly planned."
The king sat and looked out over the desert landscape, the heated air rippling and making the rocks and gullies waver as if seen through water. "When?" he asked.
"Soon. We know that she is thinking of our deaths, so we must move before she does. Leave it with me, Majesty. I will find the correct time and method, and the first you will know of it is when they bring you the news."
Siptah sat a while longer and then sighed. "I suppose we'd better go hunt that lion then."
"There is no lion. I lied to get you out of the palace."
"You could have told me the truth, Uncle. I don't like being lied to."
"You would not have come out for any lesser beast and it was imperative that you learn of my plan where no one can overhear us."
"Well, I've learned of it now. Can we go and do some hunting? I feel like I want to kill something."
Bay and Siptah returned to the chariot and the waiting charioteer, who looked relieved that they had come to no harm. They returned to the camp and from there followed the hunters out as they searched the surrounding countryside for game. Not only were there no lions, but the wild asses had fled too, and all Siptah had to show for his hunting expedition was a pair of gazelles, dispatched by the king's bow as they stood grazing.
The return to Men-nefer went almost unannounced, but the Queen Regent was on hand to welcome them back. Tausret stared at Bay for a few moments before tur
ning her attention to the king.
"You are well?" she asked. "I heard a rumour that you had gone out after a lion, though Bay informed me beforehand it was just to hunt for wild asses."
"As you can see, Lady Tausret, we found neither," Siptah replied.
"That is good, for I would not like to see you endangered. Kemet needs its king."
"I have the right to do as I see fit, and if I want to hunt, I shall. Even lions," he added boldly.
Tausret smiled but her eyes glittered as she stared into the youth's eyes. "When you are full king, you may do as you please, Son of Re, but until that day dawns you will do as I say."
Siptah drew himself up, though he had to lean heavily on his cane. He met Tausret's gaze but his lip trembled as he spoke. "I am still the king, crowned and anointed by Amun and all the gods, and I will not be spoken to in that way."
"Will you not?" Tausret asked with a smile. "I must remember that." She turned and strode from the room, leaving Siptah to glower after her.
"I know what you mean to do," he whispered, "but I shall strike first. Then you will see I am truly king."
Chapter 27
Ramesse Kha'amen-teru Bay speaks:
I am gripped by excitement, for at last my plans are in motion. Soon, I will rid myself of my enemies and rise to the position ordained by the gods of Kemet and my native Amurri. My parents came to this land under bondage, but I worked hard and rose through the ranks of servant to official and from thence to Chancellor and Treasurer of all Kemet. I put my sister Suterere into the bed of Messuwy, son of King Baenre and their only son was Akhenre Siptah who is now king over all of Kemet. Thus I am uncle to the king, trusted adviser and he who established him upon the throne of his father in the face of opposition from Queen Tausret, widow of King Userkheperure Seti.
But I would be so much more--and now the opportunity arises. Tausret accepted Siptah as king and placed herself in authority over him as Regent until such time as her infant son Seti-Merenptah came of age. Siptah was only ever going to be an interim king if she had her way, but I would make him true king. I have striven to make myself more important in the king's life, but she blocks me at every turn. Siptah petitioned that I be made Regent alongside her, but she refused. He asked that I be made Tjaty, but she laughed. It is plain that she denies me so that her unnatural control over the king will remain total. Then, when her son is old enough, she will murder poor Siptah and probably me too, continuing to rule as Regent over her son. Perhaps she even means to rule as King herself.
It has happened before, if the scrolls of Kemetu history are true. Maatkare Hatshepsut ruled as regent, thrusting aside the legitimate claims of Menkheperre Djetmose, and later elevated herself to the status of King, even showing herself in men's clothing. Such an unnatural thing could happen again unless I am vigilant, but I am resolved that her overweening ambitions shall come to naught. She shall fall into death and her son with her, leaving no one to challenge the rule of my nephew Akhenre Siptah.
The problem is how to bring it about. Obviously, I cannot just walk up to her and plunge a dagger into her breast. It would achieve the desired result but at the cost of my own death, and that is too high a cost. Therefore I must find someone else to do the deed, with all the risks that entails. Well, I have men willing to do my bidding as long as there is reward in it for them, so the problem is not an insuperable one. I just wish I had someone I can confide in, to discuss the problem and its solution, but there is no one for I can trust no one. You may wonder why I told the king of my designs as he is a boy and has not yet learned to keep his counsel. It is not that I trust him to keep quiet, but rather to provide me with an escape if things go wrong. If I am accused to his face, I do not want a look of shock and distaste to overwhelm him. I want him to at least order a proper investigation as I know I can survive that. What I cannot survive is a quick and unthinking denouncement by the king. Thus I have ensnared the king in my plotting.
I have three deaths to encompass--the Regent, her son, and her dog--and in that order of importance. If Ament is the only one left alive, he is impotent, a mere soldier. If only the child lives, others may rally around him but he will be easier to kill if his mother does not live. But leave Tausret alive with the others dead and she will surely wreak vengeance.
Ament is perhaps the easiest of these to kill, for he is a man secure in his own abilities and who moves freely and without any other guard but his own right arm. He could be set upon in the streets by a band of thugs, making it look like a simple robbery, or a dagger could be slipped between his ribs on a dark night. Less confrontationally, poison might work, for while the royal meals are carefully prepared, watched and tasted, no one is overly concerned with a dish served to a soldier.
The child's death is probably easy to bring about too. So many children die each year that it is a miracle anyone survives to adulthood. Disease kills most, followed by simple accidents. The problem is that disease is sent by the gods and I can think of no good way to make it happen. That leaves an accident, but first there are the child's guardians to be got rid of. There are few royal children in the palace these days--a handful of sons and daughters of distant scions of the ruling family--and those that have survived are watched carefully. However, it only takes a moment's inattention.
Tausret's death may be difficult though. She is guarded by Ament her dog and rarely visits places where a murder attempt might be made, so direct violence is unlikely to succeed. Her food and drink is prepared carefully and tasted, so poison will not work. An accident? Well, accidents happen but I cannot wait for something that may never occur--so what do I do? It seems to me that timing is everything. Kill Ament first and her dog can no longer protect her. Kill the child and she may be so overcome with grief she becomes careless.
Yes, the more I think on it, the more likely my plan will succeed, but I must take the risk of leaving Tausret to the last. Ament's death will seemingly be by chance, and the child's by a boyhood accident. Then in the throes a grief, she is careless and an opportunity presents itself...yes, I think it will work.
There is much to do. I must investigate the daily lives of my trio of targets and look for weaknesses in their shells of protection. Measure carefully and then strike.
Chapter 28
Year 4 of Akhenre Siptah
Seti-Merenptah had grown into a strong and healthy young boy and now, at the age of five, he had discovered the joy of being able to go almost anywhere within the palace and do anything without being told off. He rarely wore clothing as he ran through the corridors and rooms; his side lock bobbing on his otherwise shaved head. Other children, mostly the sons (and a few daughters) of high palace officials played with him, and a handful of palace nurses and servants followed, ready to soothe away a hurt, clean up a mess, or administer a sharp reprimand to any child save the royal heir.
One of the favourite places to play was the warren of storerooms near the servants' quarters at the rear of the palace. Here were rooms filled with jars, with furniture, with bedding, and with the myriad of other accoutrements without which a well-ordered household would founder. Hours could be spent fossicking through the contents of the dimly lit rooms, or climbing piles of linen, striving to climb higher than anyone else and shrieking with delight as the piles collapsed, spilling them to the floor.
The Chancellor happened upon the little knot of children one day as they played among the linen piles, and stood near two nurses as they kept watchful eyes on their charges. The nurses looked at Bay out of the corners of their eyes, but were afraid to speak to such an exalted personage. Bay, in turn, ignored the nurses but watched the children at play. He saw the other children deferring to Seti-Merenptah, allowing him to climb higher, and when he slipped and fell, waited for a heartbeat to see if the royal son would laugh or cry before joining in.
Bay thought to himself how easy it would be to press the boy's face into the pile of linen until he stopped breathing.
Another favourite place was the ki
tchen. The ovens were housed in a large lean-to arrangement at the rear of the palace where large fires were stoked beneath mud-brick edifices in which breads were baked. Other fires blazed in pits above which hung whole beasts--sheep, goats, cattle and pigs, as well as geese and ducks--slowly being turned while the fat dripped off sizzling into the fires or was collected into flat earthenware pans. To one side of the lean-to was a large storage shed housing huge wide-necked jars. Baked barley bread was crumbled into these jars along with honey and a variety of spices and herbs before being topped up with water and a handful of dried grape skins. The skins provided natural yeast and soon the vats were bubbling away as the brew turned into barley beer.
The aromas of beer, bread, and roasting meats drew the children like flies to dung, and there was always keen competition to see who could filch some ripe fruit, or a piece of oven-hot bread, dip a finger into a honey pot, or hoist themselves up to lick the pungent foam from the necks of the beer jars. Bay would follow the children here too, and watch as they scurried and ran around the legs of the many cooks and servants preparing food, twisting away from the heat of the ovens, and laughing with delight as they stole a scrap of food.
Bay thought to himself how easy it would be to nudge a running boy so he fell into an open fire, or to swiftly upend him into a beer jar, leaving him to thrash and drown.
If there was any place within the palace complex that was sure to attract small children, it was the expanse of gardens with gravel paths, shady trees, rush-bordered pools, flowerbeds, and menagerie. It was this latter attraction that always drew them outside, with its strange smells and sights. They loved standing outside the monkey cage screaming with laughter and throwing stones at the agile beasts, or looking down into pits where lions, panthers or bears prowled. Other enclosures housed exotic animals from Kush and beyond--dog-headed apes, black-and-white painted horses, creatures with impossibly long necks, or heavy bull-like creatures with a huge head and long horns on their noses. Here the children would be struck dumb as they stared wide-eyed at the wonders from foreign lands.