by Overton, Max
"Gods, I wish I knew what they were talking about," Scarab said. "Are they friend or enemy? Are they here because of me, or for some other purpose?"
"We're not likely to find out," Khu observed. "Is there really any point in staying? We should get back to the Pillar before we are seen."
Scarab sighed. "I suppose so, but I really hoped I was going to catch up with Nakhtmin today. Another time." She rose to her feet and brushed down her cloak. "Come on then."
A shout from the camp swung their heads around. A guard was pointing in their direction and calling to his companions.
"Goat turds, we've been seen. Run for it, Scarab. I'll hold them as long as I can."
Scarab grabbed Khu's arm and dragged him away. "You'll do no such thing. I'm not losing you now."
They turned and ran, directly away from the camp. Shouts arose behind them but they did not look back.
"Where...do we...go?" Khu panted.
"Anywhere, as fast as we can. If we can reach cover we can hide."
Khu looked back and saw a dozen or more men sprint from the camp. They visibly closed on them before he turned his full attention back to running. The ground turned from rock to sand, slowing them and they angled north to avoid the sand, even though it brought their pursuers measurably closer.
"There," Scarab said. "That jumble of rocks ahead. If we can reach it, we can evade them."
Khu judged the distance and then looked back at the running men. "We're not going to make it," he muttered.
"Yes, we are. Run!"
After several minutes, Khu risked another look behind them. Their pursuers were strung out in a line with the front-runners seemingly no closer. We're going to make it , he thought.
Scarab also risked a backward look. "When we get to the rocks, continue into them. I'm going to see if I can ambush them and kill one or two. They'll follow more slowly if they have to...oh, gods, how did they get there?"
Two light chariots appeared from behind the jumble of rocks and headed straight for them, the drivers whipping the horses to greater efforts. Scarab and Khu hesitated, and then changed direction, angling across the chariots' path. They could not hope to outrun them though and quickly stopped, drawing their daggers.
"Can you...do anything with...with your Eye," Khu asked. He flicked a glance at the running men who had slowed at the sight of the chariots but were now coming on again with weapons drawn.
"I don't know. There is Set's gift but I'm not sure how it works," Scarab replied. "I wonder which legion the charioteers belong to? They don't look like Kemetu."
The chariots swept between the Kemetu soldiers and their prey, and the archers standing on the light wicker platforms unleashed several arrows. Two soldiers fell and another staggered back with a shaft in his leg. The others threw spears ineffectually, gathered in a group, and yelled their defiance. The chariots circled and returned, another three soldiers falling as they passed. The remaining soldiers retreated, carrying their wounded.
"Not Kemetu then," Scarab murmured.
When the Kemetu were well back, the charioteers drove up to Scarab and Khu and halted about ten paces away. The archers kept arrows trained on the man and woman, while a man jumped down from one of the chariots and strode over to them, being careful not to obstruct his archers' view. He looked them over carefully, his gaze lingering appreciatively on Scarab.
"Who are you?" the man asked in a coarse accent. "Why are Kemetu soldiers chasing you?"
"We are desert people..." Scarab said.
"Be quiet woman. Let your man speak."
Khu cleared his throat nervously. "I...uh, we are desert people who...who do not love the Kemetu."
"Sir," one of the charioteers called. "Reinforcements are arriving."
The man swung round and shaded his eyes, calculating distances. He looked back at Khu. "Your friends will be here soon. Should I leave you to their attentions?" Khu said nothing. "Throw down your weapons." They did so. "What are your names, man of the desert?"
"I...I am Khu and this is Sc...Khepra."
"Uncouth names. I am Sihon of Amurru. Wait...you said Khepra? Your name is Khepra?"
"N...no, it is Khu...I mean, yes, I am Khepra."
"Named for the Kemetu god? The dung beetle? Otherwise called the scarab beetle? I think you are the man I am looking for."
"I don't know what you are talking about."
"Maybe not," Sihon said, with another glance at the approaching soldiers. "My general will explain everything. Be so good as to climb onto that chariot." When Khu made no move to obey, Sihon continued, a hint of anxiety creeping into his voice. "Rona, if Scarab refuses again, put an arrow into the woman. It is up to you, Scarab. Get in the chariot or your woman dies."
"I...I..." Khu looked pleadingly at Scarab and then started toward one of the chariots.
"I am Scarab," Scarab said.
Sihon smiled. "I think that unlikely."
Scarab shrugged. "So what will your general say when you tell him you left me behind and captured the wrong person?"
"Sir, the soldiers are close." The nervousness of the charioteers conveyed itself to the horses and they whickered, pulling at the reins.
"Very well, you will both come with me. Hurry now, one in each chariot." Sihon grabbed Khu and bundled him into the nearest chariot, leaving Scarab to race for the other one. A spear fell close by them and the charioteers let the horses run, rapidly carrying them away from the pursuing soldiers.
"If it turns out that your woman is who she says she is, I will kill you myself for trying to fool me," Sihon said pleasantly to Khu as they clung to the willow framework of the chariot. It bucked and bounced over the desert as it headed north to meet the other chariots of Jebu's army.
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* * *
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Paramessu stood before Horemheb, his cheeks flushed and his ears burning with embarrassment. He stood at attention and stared straight ahead, avoiding his commander's accusing eyes. However, he could not avoid hearing Horemheb's innovative and lurid language as he discoursed on the dubious parentage, lack of intelligence, commonsense and ability of his legion commanders in general and his commanding general in particular. That is the end of my career, Paramessu thought bleakly. I failed to catch Nakhtmin and Scarab, and lost half an army to the Amorites at the same time.
"Well?"
"Sorry sir," Paramessu said, turning his attention to the angry general in front of him. "What was the question?"
"I asked whether you had anything to say, any excuses to make or any blame to lay, before I pass judgment on you."
"No sir."
"No? You have nothing to say? You admit the blame is yours? You were in command of the Northern Army when it was cut to pieces? Did you allow Nakhtmin and Scarab to slip through your fingers? Or did you deliberately allow them to escape? Are you a traitor to Kemet?"
"No sir! At least...well, no sir, not completely...I..."
"Be quiet and listen to me, you fool. I will ask you again, more slowly as you seem to be having trouble understanding me. Were you in command of the Northern Army when it was destroyed?"
"No sir."
"Explain the circumstances to me."
"Sir, you ordered me to pursue Scarab with one legion. I took the Heru legion south, leaving the other two legions in place under the overall command of Hednakht, with Djedhor and Djeserkare to support him."
"Why did you not leave Djedhor in charge? He is senior commander."
"I try to give all my commanders a taste of authority."
"So you openly removed a legion from the front line thereby encouraging the Amorites to attack the greatly weakened army?"
"Again, no sir. I took them away at night, leaving tents and standards in place. However, I would point out that it is not easy to withdraw so many men unseen from under the nose of the enemy. Especially a cunning general like Jebu."
"You think you were seen?"
"Under the circumstances, I
would have to say I was, sir."
"And you are blaming Hednakht for the defeat?"
"He is not here to defend himself..."
"He is not here to be executed for treason," Horemheb snapped. "You do not lose an army without consequences." Horemheb stared at his general. "You have spoken to the survivors. You know what happened. How would you have handled the situation in his stead?"
Paramessu considered the problem afresh, although he had thought it through many times in the last day or two. "The line was strong, anchored on geographical features that made it well nigh impossible to turn. The only possible way through our army would be a frontal attack. I would have extended the Khent-abt and Re legions to at least have a presence in the gap left by the Heru legion. This may not have prevented the enemy from punching through the line but it would prevent them doing it almost unseen. If Djedhor had not been patrolling the empty Heru tents...I would also have sent out scouting parties to make sure the Amorites were not on the move."
"Hednakht did neither of these things. Is that because he was incompetent or because you failed to train him properly?"
"He was a good legion commander, sir, brave and honest and..."
"And dead," Horemheb completed. "Why do you think he did not carry out these elementary precautions?
"I...I fear I was at fault, sir."
"Explain."
"I was the one who ordered the tents and standards of Heru left in their section of the line. Hednakht would have had to countermand that to extend the line. I think he hesitated to do so."
Horemheb grunted. "And the absence of scouting parties? Nobody could be that stupid."
"Except me, sir. I ordered them to remain in camp while I was gone and not to provoke the Amorites by sending out the usual patrols."
Horemheb turned away and started pacing. "Your actions have cost me a whole legion. Both the Khent-abt and Re are at half strength. Worse still, they have had to withdraw to lick their wounds and refit. Only the Heru stands firm on the northern borders with a smattering of ill-trained conscripts hurried up from Zarw. They face an Amorite army with a victory under their belts and a thirst to do it again." The General of all the Armies of Kemet stopped in front of Paramessu and thrust his face close. "By all the gods of the Two Kingdoms, I could live with that if you had brought me good news from the south."
"I'm sorry, sir, there was little I could do. The only time I got close to Nakhtmin was in the company of many of his men. I had to spread my own legion out to keep an eye on his men and to search for Scarab myself."
"I'm starting to wonder about my General of the Northern Army," Horemheb said acidly. "Outmaneuvered by the Amorites and Nakhtmin, and then to top it all off, he could not even catch a woman. How do you think that will sound in the beer shops of Kemet?"
Paramessu said nothing.
"Any excuses?"
"No sir, though we did almost catch Scarab."
"Almost? Almost..." Horemheb pursed his lips and nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, I can see how almost will win me the Two Kingdoms. You blithering idiot! I should have gone myself instead of sending an incompetent like you."
Paramessu paled but stood his ground, ignoring the spittle that flew from the mouth of the older man. "There is one part of the report I have told no one, sir. It...it has ramifications."
"Really? And are you going to tell me, or is this some children's game where I have to guess the answer?"
"The Amorites have captured Scarab, sir."
Horemheb stared at the younger man. He passed a hand over the sweat-sheened dome of his shaved head. "How?"
"When I was with Nakhtmin in his camp, two desert people were seen close to the perimeter. A few of Nakhtmin's men gave chase, so I led a squad out myself. My thought was that if these desert people were so interested in our movements, maybe they knew the movements of Scarab too. We nearly had them, but two chariots with archers showed up--Amorites. What they were doing down there I don't know, but their arrival was unfortunate. They captured the two desert people--a man and a woman--and went north. We could not follow."
"What makes you think the woman was Scarab?"
"I cannot be sure, sir, it has been a while since I've seen her, but the woman had red hair..."
"So do many Khabiru."
"Yes sir, but the man with her was tall and slim. I think he was Khu. You remember Khu, her companion?"
Horemheb nodded. "Vaguely. Why would the Amorites want Scarab?"
"I doubt if they know who she is, sir. I think they just saw us pursuing them and captured them out of spite."
"So what will they do with them?"
"The Amorites are not noted for their patience or good nature. I think they'll slake their lust--with the man too if I know Amorites--and then kill them."
"So we have lost her?"
"I think so, sir."
Horemheb turned away and lost himself in thought for many minutes. "Do you want to redeem yourself, Paramessu?"
"Yes sir."
"Then go out and find Scarab, dead or alive. I must know if she is lost to me, or if I can still make use of her. I want to see her standing before me, or hold her skull in my hands. Can you do that for me, Paramessu?"
"Yes sir...er, what about the Northern Army? Should that not be my first concern?"
"It has already been taken care of. I have decided to make Djedhor a general. He will build the Northern Army back up into an effective fighting force. If you succeed in your mission, I will consider reinstating you. First, I want you back in Zarw with me. We are going to have to rethink our whole northern strategy."
* * * * *
King Kheperkheperure Irimaat Ay It-netjer looked his age. Nobody was certain of his exact age but people knew he was over seventy floods, a great age by any standard. Certain things were expected of the elderly and Ay was displaying them more often as time passed. This particular morning he had suddenly decided not to attend his usual session of the courts. He had been entering the Hall of Justice as usual when he stopped in his tracks and stared up at the ceiling for several minutes. When a king gives an object his undivided attention, wise men tend to follow suit and everyone in the hall examined the high stone surface, looking for enlightenment. Ay dropped his gaze and frowned at the people gathered around him before turning and ambling out of the palace. Now he sat out in the gardens on a bench under a fig tree, enjoying the fresh air. He looked about him with a vacuous smile on his face, trying to remember what it was he meant to do. There is too much to remember. Everybody makes demands on me --if I had known how hard I would have to work being king, I would never have done it .
"Of course you would," he mumbled. A slave standing ten paces away heard the king's words but made no sign, and the king disregarded the slave as if he was not there. Slaves were part of the furniture--made to be ignored until you wanted something.
Ay sipped on a bowl of sour beer and chewed gingerly on the soft inner centre of a crusty loaf. His teeth hurt and biting down on even the smallest piece of grit in the bread sent waves of agony through his jaw. The beer did not help either, but it was not as bad on his cavities as the wine he preferred. The court physicians had withdrawn several teeth, which brought temporary relief, but could not explain why apparently sound teeth also throbbed. Add in the almost constant ache from his knees, hips and hands and the rash in his groin, and it was almost enough to make the king cry out in frustration and anger. He almost did so, but remembered in time that a sense of the dignity was necessary for a king.
I must continue a little while longer. The kingdoms are not safe as long as that woman is alive. Nakhtmin must mount the throne in complete safety. Where is Nakhtmin anyway? He told me something about her. What was it ?
Ay believed his memory was intact, but people, even his son, did not help by only telling him fragments of stories. I can remember the fragments well enough , he told himself. If they only told me everything, I would remember it all . The court officials could see the days of Ay's reign winding down
and it made them nervous. The old royal dynasty of Nebmaetre Amenhotep was extinct and the new one had not inspired confidence. Already, factions were forming among the nobles and they feared that any perceived weakness in the king could spark a civil war. Accordingly, the court shielded Ay as best they could from the realities of old age.
"Where is my son?" Ay said querulously. "Where is Nakhtmin? I want him here."
The slave responded to the direct question by approaching the king and prostrating himself on the ground. "The Crown Prince is in the palace, great king. Shall I tell him of your wishes?"
"What? Oh, yes. Do so."
Ay forgot the slave as soon as he ran out of sight and devoted himself to his bowl of beer again, sopping his crust of bread in it to make it easier to chew.
"Father, are you well?"
Ay looked up, the beer running down his chin and stared at the man in front of him. "Ah...yes, Nakhtmin. I heard you were back. How was your trip? Were you successful?"
Nakhtmin kept his face impassive, though a muscle jumped in his tight jaw. "I returned two days ago, father. We discussed Scarab then." He recognised his father's vacant stare and relented. "What would you like to know?"
"The woman? Scarab? She is dead?"
Nakhtmin hesitated, wondering whether the truth would just upset the king. "Yes, father."
"You saw the body?"
Tread carefully; his mind has not gone completely . "No, but I have every reason to believe her dead."
"Because of the Amorites?"
He does remember . "Yes father. I don't know why they captured her but they will kill her, I'm sure." Nakhtmin smiled. "If she is lucky, they will kill her quickly."
"I hope not," Ay said. "I want that woman to suffer."
"Forget her. She is of the past and we must give thought to the future. Have you considered that other matter we spoke of?"
"What other matter? I do not remember."
Do not--or will not ? "Now that the last threat to the Ma'at of Kemet has been removed, it is time for me to ascend the throne as co-ruler. In that way, I can remove the burdens of kingship from your shoulders, allowing you to enjoy your elder years."