by Overton, Max
"Very well," Ay said, "So why have you delayed? Send in the army and capture her."
"It is not that simple, father. This region of Sinai is inhospitable and our maps are not precise. This needs to be a well-planned exercise using disciplined men--loyal, disciplined men." Nakhtmin hesitated, glancing at the king and at the treasurer. "The command for expenditure on this scale must come from you."
"How expensive?" Maya asked anxiously.
Nakhtmin shrugged. "I will leave the details to you but I will need a legion at least, for maybe as long as a month."
"A legion! To capture one girl? Are you mad?"
Nakhtmin bowed to the king once more. "No father, but she is not a mere girl, she is..." He broke off and glanced at the treasurer and the scribe. "Do they know of her?"
"Maya does, but not the scribe," Ay said. "Just call her Scarab. We understand you. But even so, a whole legion?"
"The map does not show it, but this is a land where a man could not survive for more than a few days without the help of others. It is a land ruled by Set - a baking sun, fierce winds, little water and marauding bandits. We could send a hundred men in fast with few supplies, but she - and her followers--would vanish like water on desert sand. They know their way through trackless wilderness; they can find water and shelter when they need it." Nakhtmin shook his head. "The only way to catch her is to have enough men out there that no matter where she turns, we are waiting."
Maya bent over the map and traced the red line that delimited the tribe of the Shechites. "Do they really own this much land? I know it is all desert--Deshret, the red lands--but it is bigger than many sepati here in the Two Kingdoms. Do they have many men?"
"It is rich in sand and rock, but poor in men, my lord Treasurer. Further, the line indicates the area in which one might find the Shechite tribe, but they do not hold it, as we would understand it, merely make use of it from time to time."
"So there are few men?"
"Two hundred, maybe three." Nakhtmin shrugged. "I do not really know, only that a legion should be sufficient."
"Which legion are you going to use?" Ay asked.
Nakhtmin shrugged again. "Does it matter? One of the northern legions."
"No," Ay said forcefully. "They are Horemheb's and who can say where he stands on this matter."
Maya glanced at the scribe and lowered his voice. "You mistrust General Horemheb?"
"He wishes me dead," the king muttered.
Maya raised his eyebrows in shock. "Then have him executed, your majesty. It would be prudent."
"And hand Kemet to the Hittites on a golden dish?" Nakhtmin sneered. "Stick to your counting beads and leave governance to your betters. Horemheb is unassailable." He turned away and murmured under his breath, "For now."
"Then which legion will you use?" Maya kept his face still and his voice steady, only his eyes betraying his fury at the insult.
"Use the Amun legion," Ay said.
Nakhtmin shook his head. "I will not leave the city unprotected. No, I will use one of the new legions from Men-nefer--the Shu, I think--they are at full strength."
"Who is the commander?"
"Ptahwery, but I will lead this expedition myself."
"I am not comfortable with you putting yourself in danger, my son. Give Ptahwery his instructions and stay out of harm's way."
Nakhtmin hesitated. "No. Forgive me father, but this is too important to leave to a relatively inexperienced commander. I must lead this expedition." He saw the king frown and stepped closer to his father, laying a hand reassuringly on the old man's wrinkled brown arm. "I will not be in any danger, father, and I promise you I will not seek out trouble, but I must be close enough that I can react to Scarab's escape attempts. Believe me, I know how dangerous she is and I will take no chances."
Ay harrumphed and patted his son's hand. "See you do not then."
Maya was examining the map again. "What are these wavy lines to the north of the Shechites?"
"The sand desert," Nakhtmin said. "One of my spies saw Scarab and seven men leave the Shechite camp and journey north into the desert."
"If she has left the Shechites she will be harder to find. Your spies may have lost her already."
"Not so. There is no place to hide in the sand desert. I will bring the legion along the Turquoise Road here..." Nakhtmin's finger traced the route, "and then split them along the south and west, driving her to the waterless east."
"And if she turns north?"
"Then she will run into the Amorites." Nakhtmin laughed. "Who knows, maybe our enemies will do our job for us."
"Horemheb's legions lie to the north," Ay said. "What if she turns to him for aid--or to his loyal dog Paramessu?"
"She will not."
"You are sure of that?" Maya queried.
Nakhtmin stared at the scribe who was scribbling away, bent over his papyrus scrolls. "I am not comfortable continuing this conversation where we cannot speak freely. Dismiss the scribe, father."
"He has not taken down the details of the mission yet," Maya protested. "If I am to release gold from the treasury, I must know how many men, what provisions they will need and for how long."
Nakhtmin snorted. "May the gods preserve us from accountants. Use your imagination, Maya. I have already told you one legion at full strength. Allow enough for a month as if they were facing the Amorites. Add in a generous food allowance, donkeys to carry extra water, and a few physicians to take care of injuries." He strode over to the scribe and stared down at the writing on the scroll. "Have you recorded all that?"
"Y...yes, my lord," the scribe stuttered, his face upturned and pale.
"Good. Then leave your scrolls and get out."
Sanehet the scribe leapt to his feet, clutching his palette and the rushwork case containing his pots of ink. He looked anxiously at the king who gave his nod of dismissal. On receiving it, Sanehet bowed deeply and hurried from the room.
Nakhtmin exhaled loudly and nudged one of the scrolls aside with his foot. "That feels better already."
"The scribe is one of my most trusted men," Maya said stiffly. "You need have no fear that he would be indiscreet."
"If I thought that, he would be dead, not dismissed. I just prefer to speak openly."
"Enough of this," the king said. "If you mean to speak openly, do so. Maya asked you about Horemheb and Paramessu. Why will Scarab not turn to them for aid?"
"Paramessu and Beketaten were once lovers. Now he has moved on, married even, and wants her dead. I have it on good authority."
"And Horemheb?"
"Because he desires to be king."
Maya frowned. "The lady Beketaten is the last royal daughter of the House of Nebmaetre Amenhotep. If he wants to be king he will have to wed her to give his reign legitimacy."
"And do you think she desires that?"
"Who knows what that woman wants?"
"Not that, I assure you. She wants to overthrow my beloved father and set herself on the throne of Kemet."
Maya laughed. "How could she possibly do that? She is a woman."
Nakhtmin was silent, but he raised his eyebrows questioningly at his father.
Ay nodded. "Tell him."
"You remember the king's recently deceased brother, Aanen? One-time second prophet of Amun? He took it upon himself to anoint Lady Beketaten king after she buried her brother Smenkhkare."
Maya gaped like a village fool. "But...but...but he can't. I mean...was he mad?"
"Perhaps, and possibly just cunning."
"But why? What could he possibly hope to gain? The army would not follow a woman, nor would the nobles and officials. She would have no support base."
"Except the common people."
"Of what use is that? The people are powerless."
Nakhtmin yawned. "Of course they are, but their discontent can destabilise the Kingdoms. As long as she is at large, keeping alive this romantic nonsense that there is an alternative to the present regime, she will be a danger."
>
Maya looked at the king, and then back at Nakhtmin. "Because of Horemheb, you mean?"
"Yes. While Scarab is alive, Horemheb--or any other aspirant--can hope to become king. Without her, there can be no other claim on the throne, so I succeed my father and restore Ma'at to Kemet."
"But there would be no royal woman for you to marry, Lord Nakhtmin."
"Don't be a fool, Maya. I don't need one. I am already royal as the son of the reigning king."
The Treasurer thought about this for a few minutes before nodding. "Yes, I see now how important she is. She must be killed as quickly as possible."
"Interesting. You would dare kill an anointed king?" Ay asked, a small smile on his aged face. "Do you not fear the gods?"
Maya blanched. "But she is not really king...is she? How can she be? You are king."
"Of course my father Ay is king," Nakhtmin snapped. "But that cursed brother of his was still a prophet of Amun when he performed the rites on Lady Beketaten. You can depose a prophet but you cannot unmake him."
"So is she or is she not king?" Maya rubbed his forehead with one hand. "I am confused. If she is not really king, then you can kill her...but you say you cannot kill her because she is king."
Nakhtmin smiled at the Treasurer's confusion. "The problem is that we don't know how Amun and the other gods view the coronation ceremony. If it was worthless in their eyes then she is a pretender and can be killed. If it was a true ceremony, then her person is inviolate. It all depends on what the gods think."
"How can you tell what is in the gods' minds?"
"You ask their priests."
"And...?"
"Some say Beketaten is not king, others that the mind of their god is hidden from them." Nakhtmin shrugged. "However, it does not matter. Beketaten stands in the way. She must die."
"But if she is king..." Maya cast a worried look at Ay, "In the eyes of the gods, I mean, then killing her is god-cursed."
Nakhtmin smiled again, catching his father's eye. "I shall give orders that she is to be taken alive."
Maya frowned. "And then you will imprison her? Is that wise? She will just become a focus of disaffection, as you said. Horemheb will know that anything is possible if a royal woman remains alive."
"So she must die."
"But you said you cannot kill her!"
"That is true," Ay said. "Nor can my son, and neither of us will give the command for her death."
"In fact, I will be certain to publicly order that she be taken alive and treated with respect," Nakhtmin added. "It is perhaps unfortunate that some of my trackers are Assyrians and being ignorant men of the Nations, have no fear of the true gods of Kemet." He grinned. "Unbelievers can be so useful at times. I have every confidence they will obey my unspoken commands."
Ay rubbed his hands together and smiled. "Soon we shall be rid of this meddlesome girl once and for all."
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Chapter Twenty-Four
Two armies opposed each other once more in the southern hills of Kenaan. The Amorites under General 'One-Hand' Jebu remained holed up in the fastnesses of the mountains, watchful and wary, while the Kemetu legions under the leadership of General Paramessu quivered with frustration on the plains below.
Paramessu had three legions at close to full strength--Re, Heru, and Khent-abt--while One-Hand was known to have the equivalent of only two, yet the Kemetu commander hesitated to commit his men. He assembled his commanders on a rocky knoll overlooking the foothills and posed the problem.
"That old fornicator knows the land better than us," Paramessu complained to his legion commanders. "We'll take heavy losses if we have to go up there after him." He pointed toward the ridges and valleys of the mountains.
"Our men are better equipped and trained, sir," Djedhor commented. "The Heru stands ready to fight."
Djeserkare nodded. "The Khent-abt too, sir."
"I know," Paramessu growled. "But in the mountains the Amorites have the advantage. I don't like throwing away my men for a doubtful result."
"That's a soldier's lot," Hednakht murmured. "So we lose a troop or three. You can't make a stew without killing the goat."
"Are you offering the Re legion as the goat?"
"If need be, sir. You know we all stand ready to die for you and Kemet."
Paramessu grunted. "I know...and it may come to that, but I'd like another option. Any ideas?"
"Pretend to attack and withdraw when he counters?" Djeserkare ventured. "Lead him into a trap."
"Hardly original. It's been tried so many times he'd spot the ruse immediately."
"Could we lure him out?" Hednakht asked.
"What with? What do we have that would overcome his natural caution?"
"Gold," Djedhor said with a laugh. "For all their pretensions as a disciplined army, the Amorites are still just common bandits. If they thought they could turn a tidy profit they'd be out after it so fast we'd have to run to catch up."
"Where would we get enough gold to tempt them? You know our pay is in arrears again."
"When was it not?" Hednakht muttered.
"Just so. If we developed this plan--and I'm not saying we will--where do we find the gold?"
"I don't know, sir," Djedhor admitted.
"Next time, don't voice your ideas until you've thought them through," Paramessu grumbled. "Now, anyone else?"
The commanders remained silent, not wanting to commit themselves and risk the general's displeasure. Paramessu stared at them in turn, scowling, and each man looked away.
"Call yourselves commanders? Djedhor, you will devise a plan to get enough gold together to tempt Jebu. Hednakht, double your patrols, I want to know if One-Hand so much as farts. Djeserkare, take five hundred men and get the Amorites out of the mountains, even if you have to go in there and carry them out. I am sick of standing around waiting. You have your orders; now get out of my sight."
The commanders saluted and turned to where their grooms stood with their horses. Djeserkare was halfway there when he stopped and shaded his eyes, staring down into the plain.
"There's a rider coming sir. A messenger." He pointed, and the four men watched as the man urged his mount up the knoll toward them. The rider slid off his sweating horse and fell to his knees in front of the general.
"My Lord General, Lord Horemheb commands your presence immediately."
"Get up. Where is he?"
"In the village of Tashka, General. It's just off the Heru Road, sir."
"I don't know it. You will have to show me, but not on that horse. Djedhor, lend him your mount. As for the rest of you, probe the enemy dispositions but do not commit to battle. I will return as soon as I can." Paramessu ran to his own horse and swung himself up onto its back. The messenger was slower as Djedhor's stallion balked at the stranger clutching at its reins. By the time he was astride his mount, Paramessu was at the base of the knoll and urging his horse toward the Heru Road.
The messenger caught up by the time they reached the road and the two men raced west and south as fast as their horses would carry them. Eventually, the messenger pointed to a faint trail that led to the south and they turned from the road toward the tiny village of Tashka.
The village comprised a dozen huts around a well with a crumbling wall. There were no villagers to be seen but soldiers sat in the shade of the huts, cleaning their weapons or playing dice. Paramessu rode into the middle of the village and dismounted near the well, the messenger taking the reins of the horses and leading them to water.
"You took your time." Horemheb's gruff voice issued from the shaded entrance of the largest hut. The General of All the Armies of Kemet stepped into the hot sunlight and glowered at his friend.
Paramessu grinned and ran across the dusty ground to the older man. He saluted and wiped the sweat from his face. "Good to see you too, sir."
Horemheb stared at the younger man intently. "It's come. We must act immediately."
Paramessu frowned. "
Er, what has, sir?"
"By Heru, is your memory failing you?" Horemheb seized Paramessu by the arm and drew him to one side, away from the nearest soldiers. "Have you forgotten your oaths to capture Scarab and kill the heir? Must I find someone more reliable?"
"Of course not, sir. I remember them well. You have news?"
Horemheb nodded. "Come, we will talk as we walk outside the village. I trust my men, but..." He turned and started walking.
"A moment sir, I beg." Paramessu ran to the well and grabbed a goat-hide bucket of water. He tipped most of the contents over his head, washing away the dust and sweat, before gulping down the dregs. "That's better," he said as he caught up with his general.
Horemheb waited until they were well clear of the huts before speaking. "You remember we spoke of that madman called the 'Eye of Geb'? Well, he is a she and she turns out to be our old friend Scarab. It seems she is inciting the tribes with talk of miracles."
Paramessu looked perturbed. "Scarab was never deranged, sir. Are you sure of this?"
"Of course I'm sure. And I have the news on the best authority--that of Ay and his Tjaty."
"They told you?"
"Don't be a fool. They spoke of it in the presence of someone friendly to my cause and he sent me word. Nakhtmin is mounting an expedition with the Shu legion to capture her. Naturally, you are not going to let that happen."
"No sir. Where is she?"
"I don't know exactly but she is in Sinai somewhere. A month back, she was in the tribal lands of the Shechites but she left to journey north into the sand desert. That's where the Shu legion is headed."
Paramessu tugged at an earlobe anxiously. "The sand desert? And a month ago? She could be anywhere by now--or dead. That place is deadly."
Horemheb raised an eyebrow quizzically. "You think I don't know that, or that I'd trouble you with this on an old report? She left the Shechites a month ago but she has been seen since if Nakhtmin's movements are anything to go by. He led his men to the borders of the sand desert eight days ago and split them west and south."
"Another spy in his camp?"
"Or one of my own scouts. You do not need to know. They're driving her north."