by Overton, Max
"I want my son. You cannot prevent me from taking him. I am his mother and the Law of Kemet..."
"Resides in me," Seti finished. "You forget I am Judge of Zarw and Troop Commander. I make the laws in this city and my garrison enforces it." The old man hauled himself to his feet and leaned across the desk. His limbs trembled and flecks of spittle sprayed as he worked himself into a fury. "I do not want you here. You are a troublemaker and a bad influence. Get out of my house, and if I find you within Zarw again I will have you locked up."
"You will not stop me seeing my son." Scarab ran to the window and leaned out. She screamed for Set at the top of her voice. Many servants came running but no child.
Behind her, the Judge laughed. "He is not here. His mother has him and is visiting her family estates. Young Seti would not know you even if you were to find him. You have lost him, so give up."
Tears streaked the left side of Scarab's face as she turned to face the old man. "Why? Why have you done this?"
"You come from a rotten and decaying family--no, that is not quite accurate. Nebmaetre Amenhotep was a good king but he has spawned only trouble. The only good thing you have done is have a son by Paramessu. That boy now has the blood of Nebmaetre within him and maybe the blood of our family will steady him. One day he might even be king, but not if you get your claws in him. You would drag him down into rebellion and death." Seti's face softened and he came slowly round the desk, his hands out as if to placate her. "It is hard to bear, I know, but think of the boy. You have no future in Kemet with Ay as king. You will be forever looking out for the hand that strikes you down or the soldiers coming to capture you. That is no life for a promising young boy. Leave him, Lady Beketaten. Leave him to grow up as Seti son of Paramessu and let him seek his own fate."
"But I could still see him, still share in his upbringing."
"Does Ay still hate you?"
Scarab nodded slowly, her hand rising to her right eye.
"Then when he learned of your presence he would come for you and kill you. He would stamp out your son as well--my only grandson. I will not let that happen. You will leave Zarw today and not return. If you do not I will have you arrested and delivered to Ay."
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Chapter Thirteen
Khu and Nebhotep had been Scarab's almost constant companions for years, throughout the Nubian exile and especially in the harrowing days following the death of her brother Smenkhkare. They had aided her in gathering the grave goods for the king's tomb in secret, transporting them to the site south of the city of Waset, and had guarded her as she arranged for the preparation of the body. They were present when Smenkhkare's body was placed in the tomb, and afterward, when the old priest of Amun, Aanen brother of Ay, had anointed Scarab as the new king of Kemet. The arrival of Nakhtmin's men had scattered the little body of followers, but Khu and Nebhotep escaped in the thick reed beds along the Great River. There they waited, semi-submerged and being eaten alive by midges and mosquitoes, until the last of Nakhtmin's searchers withdrew. They hauled themselves out and sloshed their way, shivering and hungry, to dry land.
"They took Scarab," Khu said, for perhaps the hundredth time. "We have to rescue her."
Nebhotep the physician refrained from answering, as he had the last ninety times. Instead, he set about gathering firewood and stripping some fibres from the reeds. While the younger man paced restlessly, muttering to himself, Nebhotep hunched over the base of a fallen palm frond and concentrated on making his fire stick spin. The fibres snapped several times, making him wish he had proper cords, but eventually a thin wisp of smoke arose. He added fine wood shavings and blew on it gently. A tiny flame rewarded his efforts, and a few minutes later, he had a small fire blazing in a hollow on the edge of the desert.
"They'll see the fire and come for us," Khu said.
"No they won't. First, I built the fire in a hollow and second, even if they saw a fire, how could they tell it was us? We could be anyone--fishermen most likely. Take your clothes off and dry them before the night turns cold." Nebhotep stripped his own linens off and spread them on the sand near the fire, hunkering down close to the flames himself.
Khu grumbled but he followed suit. "We have to rescue her," he repeated. "She'd do it for us. You know she would."
Nebhotep sighed. "I'm not against the idea, Khu. I just do not see how we are going to do it. We are two against a city full of Ay's men. She will probably be in the dungeons underneath the palace and nobody gets into those unseen."
"But you agree we have to try?"
"Of course. Scarab is also the new king, remember? We took an oath of loyalty."
"I'd rescue her even if she wasn't king."
"I know you would, lad. It's obvious you have feelings for her."
The flushing of Khu's upper body owed nothing to the heat of the fire. "You...you don't think she knows, do you?"
Nebhotep grinned at the young man's discomfiture. "More than likely, but she also has a good sense of what is proper. She is royalty and far above either one of us. Love her by all means, but don't expect anything more than friendship in return."
"Paramessu had more."
"So he did, lad, so he did." Nebhotep said nothing more, not wanting to be drawn into an argument over Khu's chances with Scarab. He knew there was a very high probability that one or both of them would be dead in the next few days. Now that Ay had his hands on Scarab, it was unlikely he would let her live. He shrugged and felt his clothes. Dry enough. The night is turning chilly . Wrapping himself up in his clothes, Nebhotep curled up by the fire and went to sleep. No sense worrying about tomorrow .
Khu was up at first light, chafing to be away. "It will take us days to walk to Waset. We have to get started."
Nebhotep yawned and scratched himself. "It would be a lot faster to go by boat."
"You're right. What do we do, steal one from a fisherman?"
"I was thinking rather of buying passage on one."
"What with? We don't have anything to trade."
"Except my skill as a physician and your strong back. I'm sure that a day's toil by you would earn us a ride. Failing that, maybe I can ease someone's pain." Nebhotep got up and stretched. "I seem to remember there is a small village a little south of us."
It was midday by the time they found the village. The inhabitants were a little suspicious of strangers arriving without any belongings or even tools of their trade, but Nebhotep told them their boat had capsized and everything they owned, including his physician's knives and ointments were at the bottom of the river.
"This is my assistant Khu. He has a weak mind but a strong back, so if there is some way by which we can repay your hospitality..."
Khu shot him a filthy look but the headman of the village took the hint and sat them down in the shade by his hut, sending his wife for cool water and coarse bread with onions.
The headman squatted in front of them and said, "We have sickness and injuries within our village as always, but if you can help us we will pay you what we can."
Nebhotep nodded slowly. "I am without instruments or potions but I will do what I can."
"Good. Eat now and I will bring the sick to you."
They ate and drank their fill and as they did so, the open area in front of the headman's hut filled up as word got around that a physician had arrived.
Nebhotep walked from patient to patient with Khu in tow, asking questions and probing wounds, cuts or swellings with his fingers. He finished and walked a few paces apart to talk to Khu. "There is nothing really serious here and I can help most of them. The problem is that I do not have my things and they have experienced other physicians that rely on prayers and ignorance. They kill as often as they cure, but I must only cure if we are to get help."
Khu looked over the people waiting patiently. "Do we really have to do this? We are wasting time while Scarab is...is..."
"You know as well as I that Scarab would want us to. These are her p
eople."
"I suppose you're right. What do you want me to do?"
"I'll get you to clean the wounds."
"How will that help?"
"Strangely enough, a clean wound heals better than a dirty one. I'm going to make a bit of a show about it, so go along with whatever I do." Nebhotep had a large bowl of water brought over and a cleanish scrap of linen. He searched around in a field and plucked a few leaves from plants there, crushing them in the water. Clapping his hands together over the bowl, he loudly invoked the intercession of Imhotep, the god of healing and medicine, asking him to imbue the water with his magic healing powers. Then he passed the bowl and cloth to Khu. "There, now carefully wash out the wounds and sores of everyone I point out."
Khu got busy with his rag and water and Nebhotep made a few other requests of the headman.
"A sharp knife, fire in a pot, honey if you have it, mouldy bread or vegetables and strips of clean linen."
The physician used the knife to lance several boils, heating the knife before and after each patient. The headman watched interestedly and asked many questions.
"Why do you heat the blade?"
"I have found it works better though I do not know why."
"Why, when your servant cleans the wounds, do you dirty them again with mould?"
Nebhotep realised that if he said 'I do not know' too often, the people would lose confidence in him, so he lied. "It is a revelation from Imhotep. Mould and honey both have curative powers if applied correctly."
Slowly, as the sun dipped toward the western horizon, Nebhotep and Khu worked their way through the sick and injured villagers. Luckily, most of the injuries were minor. One man had a lung complaint, his breathing shallow and labored. Nebhotep made him comfortable and mixed honey with a little milk. "Have prayers said," he instructed. Toothache was common. It could be alleviated by removal of the offending tooth, an action involving some strength, a bit of blood and considerable pain, but he was always thanked afterward.
"There is one other," the headman said. "I could not bring him out as he is too sick." He led them into one of the huts and showed them a pale-faced, unconscious young man on a low pallet. "He fell from a tree onto his head two days ago."
Nebhotep knelt and examined the man, gently palpating the man's head. He felt the bone shift and grate, the tissues swollen and hot on the top and back of the head. "I can do nothing for this man," he said softly.
"Please try," the headman implored. "He is the only son of a widow."
"The skull is shattered and blood has poured into the brain. Even if I released the blood it would not cure him. In the city, less than one man in ten like this would live longer than a few days."
"Please try."
Nebhotep sighed and wiped the sweat from his eyes. "It is too late in the day to attempt. An operation performed in the waning day will strip the life from him. It must be performed under the ascending light of day so that the strength of Re might support him."
"Then I will put a hut at your disposal for tonight and in the morning you will operate."
Nebhotep and Khu walked down to the river to bathe and wash the filth from their bodies. They lay on the bank drying in the last rays of the setting sun, watching the men of the village fishing from a few small boats.
"We could have been on one of those," Khu grumbled. "Heading down to Waset. But you had to promise an operation tomorrow. Why didn't you do it today? Then we would be finished here."
"The man is just about dead, Khu. If I had taken the knife, the drill and the saw to him today he would have died under my hands. Then all the good will we have garnered today would have vanished."
"But what about tomorrow? He'll die when you operate then, won't he? Or does the ascending light really make such a difference?"
"He won't survive the night. I see no point in inflicting more pain on him in the hope he might live an extra day."
Khu shivered despite the warmth of the dying light. "I'm glad I'm not a physician."
"You did well today, Khu. You have good hands and a gentle manner. Why do you not think of training in medicine?"
Khu raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Me? A dirt-farmer? You must be joking."
The injured man died in the night, in the dark hours before dawn when the body chills and the whole world waits to see if the sun god will rise again. They were woken by the ululating cries of the women and could not get back to sleep again.
The headman came to see them as the sun rose. "Pa-hore died in the night."
"Yes. I sorrow with you for the passing of one of your people."
"I had hoped you would cure him today."
"It was not to be. The gods ordained otherwise."
The headman nodded. "No blame attaches to you. You have done this village a service. We do not have much, but what we have, we offer. Knives, pots, clothing, food. What will you have?"
"Passage to Waset. I have to be in the city within two days."
"Simply done. The fisherman Teti will take you."
They arrived in Waset to find the city in the throes of celebration. The king had been entombed in the Place of Burial over the river, the new king Ay had been crowned, and he had since married Queen Ankhesenamen. King Kheperkheperure had opened the city granaries and bakers had been producing golden loaves and great pots of frothing beer. Herds of cattle had been brought in from the countryside and slaughtered to provide meat for the populace; in addition to huge mounds of onions, radishes and lettuce. The milling of happy crowds in the streets was marred only by large numbers of unsmiling troops within the city and encamped outside it.
Nebhotep and Khu disembarked from the tiny fishing skiff and made their way from the docks into the heart of Waset.
"Are we likely to be recognised?" Nebhotep asked. He avoided looking directly at the people thronging around them and walked with a stoop.
"I don't think so. Not in the city anyway, but as Councillors we may be remembered in the palace."
"That was ten years ago. You look a bit different now. Anyway, we'll avoid the palace and Amun temple area just in case." The physician glanced up and down the streets. "Where shall we go to find out if anyone has heard of Scarab?"
"A tavern or food stall would be best but we have nothing to buy drinks with. Can you earn some copper by doctoring?"
Nebhotep shrugged. "Possibly, but there are far more physicians in the city and I still don't have my instruments."
As it happened, they did not need copper. Bread, meat and beer were available for the asking at the corners of all the main streets as the king attempted to buy men's love by acts of generosity. He was largely successful, as few men, after filling their bellies, had unkind words for the new monarch.
Nebhotep accepted a platter made of crusted barley bread laden with thick slices of fatted beef while Khu carried a jug of frothy barley beer. They found a place to sit near a group of men already half drunk and filled themselves with the king's largesse.
"The King's health!" cried one man near them, lifting his jug of beer. "Life, Health, Prosperity."
"Yes, indeed," Nebhotep agreed. "May he live a million years."
"Ha, ha! He is hardly likely to last a million minutes. But here's to him anyway."
The physician drank and passed the jug to his companion. "We've just arrived in the city from the country. What has been happening?"
"Can't you tell? Ay has become King Kheperkheperure, that's what." The man raised a hand bearing only four fingers and scratched at his armpit. "Then he married Nebkheperure's widow to make it legal."
"He fucked his own grand-daughter," a thin man added. "The young Queen was crying at the ceremony and that's ill-omened."
"Softly, Ikeni. That's king stuff and I do not care about that. Besides, there could be informants around." Four Fingers looked darkly at Nebhotep and Khu.
"Not us," Nebhotep reassured him quickly. "I'm a country doctor come to buy some more supplies. This is my assistant."
"Well, he did
fuck her," grumbled Ikeni. "And lots of other things too."
"I heard the king's general, Nakhtmin, captured some rebels."
"You hear a lot for new arrivals," Four Fingers said suspiciously.
"Some soldiers were boasting near the docks. Is it true?"
Four Fingers slurped from his jug again and belched. "Could be. Who cares?"
"I heard the king killed his own brother and the sister of the last king," Ikeni muttered. "More ill-omened acts, if you ask me."
"We don't ask you, Ikeni, so shut up." Four fingers pointedly turned his back on Nebhotep.
Khu dragged his friend away, out of earshot of the other men. "That can't be true," he argued loudly. "Ay wouldn't dare kill his own brother Aanen. And as for Scarab--why, Scarab is an anointed king--killing her is god-cursed."
"Keep your voice down. Maybe Ay doesn't know or doesn't believe it."
"I refuse to believe it until...until I see her body." Khu started crying. "If she's dead, I don't want to live either."
Nebhotep put his arm around Khu. "Too much drink," he explained to their neighbours. He led Khu into a side alley and let him cry for a few minutes. "We just have the unsupported word of a drunk. Let us find out what we can before deciding what to do."
Khu dried his eyes and nodded. They went back out into the streets and, keeping close together, started questioning people. Nebhotep was circumspect, starting with generalities, but Khu was direct to the point of indiscretion.
"I don't know about no relatives of the king," said one middle-aged woman. "But my son Mene is in the Amun legion an' 'e says they took a woman to the desert yesterday. Left 'er to die. Lovely young thing she woulda been too if they 'adn't 'urt 'er like. That's what me son says. Why? You knows her?"
"No." Nebhotep stepped in before Khu could admit to everything. "We just heard stories and wondered if they were true."
"Well, you can ask my son if you sees 'im. Ask any of the Ibis Troop, they was the ones what done it."
"Thank you mother," Nebhotep said respectfully. "May the gods grant you happiness." He led Khu off quickly before he could say anything else. "Come on, we have to find a soldier of the Ibis Troop."