by Overton, Max
"Be assured, my son," Aziru said softly, "That is why you do not have an army to call on. You will be king of Amurru one day, but only when I say. Go on, Ashraz."
"Horemheb is that rarest of rare creatures--an honest man. He has sworn an oath of loyalty to Ay and he will stick by it. Besides, he knows that the only person standing between himself and the throne after Ay dies is the untried crown prince, Nakhtmin. Now, Nakhtmin holds the edge. They both control strong armies with legions loyal to them, but Nakhtmin is also son of the anointed king, whereas Horemheb is just a soldier."
"But if he had a royal bride..." Mutaril murmured.
"Exactly. If this Scarab really is the princess Beketaten, then she is the answer to Horemheb's prayers, and a nightmare for Nakhtmin."
"She could be valuable," Abi-Hadad remarked.
"Remarkably understated," Aziru commented.
"We could offer her to both men and see who will give us the better terms."
"For gold?" the prince asked.
"For anything," his father said. "Gold would be useful, but maybe a city or two, or estates within Kemet. Marriage into the noble families--maybe even into the royal one. In a generation or two we could have an Amorite king on the throne of the Two Kingdoms."
"Maybe even me," Abi-Hadad said excitedly.
"Maybe, your highness," Ashraz agreed." First, we need to be certain of her identity. With your permission, your majesty, I will have her brought to Taanach."
"Don't send for her. Go collect her yourself, Ashraz. This is too important for any mistakes to be made."
* * * * *
Ashraz arrived in the Amorite camp five days later. He left his horse in the care of the chariot squadron and made his way unannounced to Jebu's tent. The Captain of Security never liked people to know he was coming, and always dressed unobtrusively, this time with the insignia of a junior officer. He also carried a pass that would get him anywhere he wanted to go, but preferred not to use it if there was another way. A survey of the situation before anyone knew of his presence often revealed things others would rather were kept secret. Before he made his visit official, he thought to question the Scarab woman. As he approached the general's tent, he used his apparent rank to order two soldiers to follow him. He then presented himself at the guard post outside the tent.
"Lieutenant Ashraz with orders to question the woman prisoner," Ashraz said. To his great surprise, the guard captain laughed.
"Luck with that, Lieutenant. People who question that witch tend to kill themselves."
"Really?" Ashraz yawned, politely covering his mouth with one hand. "I assure you I have no suicidal thoughts."
"Neither did the others. Ah well, if you are determined you can go ahead - if you can find her."
"What do you mean? She's a prisoner, isn't she? Isn't she locked up?"
The guard frowned. "Who are you that you don't know about the witch woman, Lieutenant? What unit are you from?"
"I'm part of General Jebu's personal staff, but I've been in Taanach this last month. Do you really mean the woman is gone? Gone where, and why? Why wasn't she detained?"
"She's in the camp somewhere, with her male companion. The General gave her the run of the place seeing as how he could not kill her or keep her locked up. She wanders around talking to people but if anyone tries to harm her in any way, the hurt turns back onto him. She's a witch - everyone knows that."
"What does this witch look like?"
"A bit like a Khabiru woman in her woolen robe. Red hair and pretty enough if you're not too particular. She has this...this eye made of stone and...and it chills you when she opens her eyelid. You can feel the power of her gods in it."
"She sounds interesting. Thank you captain. I'll see if I can find her."
"Don't say I didn't warn you when you feel your own knife slip between your ribs," the guard captain said with a dismissive laugh.
Ashraz sent the two soldiers with him back to their duties as soon as he was out of sight of the guard post. He wandered alone through the camp, listening to the gossip, watching as the trained soldiers attended to their duties or sat around playing dice. He determined that the witch called Scarab was known throughout the camp, and though she was regarded with awe and superstitious fear, most allowed that she was not arbitrary in her anger. Only those who attempted to harm her or her companion were themselves harmed.
"An eye for an eye, she does," one trooper said. "Life for a life."
"Fair she is, though," said another. "She'll only hurt you if you tries to hurt her."
"Like that priest of Marduk what cursed 'er an' 'it 'er," a third added, nodding. "He starts 'itting 'imself and doesn't stop 'til 'e falls senseless to the ground."
"Or that fool that tried to rape her," the first trooper said. "Well, he won't be trying that again. He's lucky he didn't bleed to death right then and there."
"You mean she attacked and injured him?" Ashraz asked.
"Nah, 'e did it 'imself. Whips 'is dagger out an' cuts 'is own pizzle off." Third man shook his head and whistled softly. "Never seen the like an' I 'opes never to again."
"Same thing if you offers harm to that companion of hers. Koo is his name and under her protection. 'Ow come you don't know about all this?"
"I'm just in from Taanach," Ashraz said. "Do you know where I can find her? I'd like to see this witch."
The troopers looked at each other and First man shrugged. "It's near meal time. You will probably find her near the kitchens. Follow your nose, you can't miss them."
"And a word of advice, stranger," Second man said, "Smile when you get close to her and keep your hand away from your dagger."
Ashraz pondered this advice as he sauntered toward the cooking fires, following the appetising aroma of roasting beef. There is a mystery here, he thought. No man - or woman - has powers like that, only the gods, and I will wager Scarab is no god. Is this all some illusion, a trick to fool ignorant peasants? If it is, I will expose her for a fraud. If not...if not it is going to be difficult to transport her to Taanach if she does not want to go .
He found Scarab and her companion at the kitchens. The troopers were lined up ready to collect their bread and meat when a woman walked up to the head of the line and the tall, slim man with her collected two meals. The troopers gave way before the pair of them and Ashraz thought for the first time in years of his childhood on the shores of the Great Sea. It's just the way a school of little fish part when a shark swims into their midst. Is this Scarab a shark ?
Ashraz waited his turn and accepted his meal, taking a jar of thin wine as well, and went off to find the woman. They were sitting on rocks near a dry streambed and he coughed as he got near so as not to startle them.
"Do you mind if I join you?"
The man scowled but Scarab nodded and pointed to a nearby rock. "You are welcome if you come in peace."
Ashraz sat down and started into his bread, soft with meat juices, and worried at the strip of stringy meat he had been given. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and grinned. "You'll have had better fare than this, I'll wager."
The man grunted noncommittally and Scarab nodded.
Ashraz took a long pull at his wine jar and offered it. "Not as good as fine Ta Mehu wine, but tolerable on a hot day."
Scarab looked at him, her red hair falling over her face and obscuring her right eye. "You are familiar with Ta Mehu and its wines?"
"I've had occasion to travel those fair lands in less troublesome times. It's where I learned to speak Kemetu."
"You speak it well. What was your purpose there?"
"Oh, this and that. A bit of trading, a bit of curiosity. I went down to the Sun King's city a dozen or so years ago. That was a bit of a marvel. I wanted to travel on down to Waset but...well, it didn't work out. What about you? Your name is Scarab, I hear. Have you ever been to Akhet-Aten?"
"Yes. What is your name, Kenaanite man who travels to Kemet?" Scarab laughed when Ashraz raised his eyebrows. "Your Kemetu is g
ood but it still betrays your origins."
Ashraz joined in the laughter and told them his name. "Scarab scarcely seems a proper name for a woman. How did that come about?"
Scarab took the wine jar and drank before passing it to Khu. "It was a name my brother gave me because I played with beetles. I liked it and I still use it."
Ashraz nodded and took back the wine jar. "What about you, lad? Do you have an animal name too?"
"I am Khu."
"Just that? No 'son of' or 'from'?"
"Son of Pa-it, from Akhet-Re."
"Akhet-Re?" Ashraz mused. "Would that be close to Akhet-Aten? Both are named for your sun god - as is Khepri, the Scarab, for that matter."
"It is close by," Scarab said, "But many places in Kemet are named for one or other of the gods, so it is scarcely a surprise."
"There is a hint of Waset in your voice. Are you from that city?"
"I have been told that before, Ashraz, though I confess I cannot hear it in my own voice."
"Others can sometimes see - or hear - the truth in ourselves before we can. A rumour has it that you are nobly born."
"I have heard that rumour," Scarab said quietly.
"Is it true?"
"You ask a lot of questions, Ashraz of Kenaan. More than would be expected of strangers sharing a wine jar."
"You are offended?"
"No," Scarab conceded, "But I think you aren't what you are at pains to portray yourself as - a junior officer in General Jebu's army. I think you're more accustomed to command than obedience, and that words are your pleasure rather than weapons."
Ashraz chuckled. "An astute young lady as well as a beautiful one."
"Beauty passes. I know what I am."
"You have the look of a Khabiru woman, Scarab, and you hold yourself as if born to high station. But not you, Khu. For all your prickly silence, I see you as Kemetu through and through - a man of the land or at most a merchant. I see respect rather than subservience in your attitude to this woman, which tells me you are neither servant nor lover, but rather friend and companion. How is it that two such different people travel together?"
"We have known each other a long time," Scarab said.
"And you're wrong if you consider me not a servant," Khu growled. "I would die for her willingly, do anything she..."
"Enough Khu," Scarab said gently, putting her hand on his arm. "What we have is ours alone and no business of anyone else."
Ashraz sat silently for several minutes. "What is your real name, Scarab?" he asked quietly.
"Scarab will do. Any other identity is meaningless."
"Do you remember the old Kemetu king, Nebmaetre? No, what am I thinking? You can have been no more than a girl when he died. His queen was Tiye, a woman born of Yuya, a Khabiru holy man. Has anyone ever told you you have their look?"
"I think you know more than you admit to, Ashraz. What is it you're saying?"
"I think you were born into the royal family of Kemet, raised in the palace of Waset, or at least spent some time there. Am I right?"
Khu glowered but Scarab just sat quietly with a half smile on her face.
"You do not deny it," Ashraz said, his voice laden with satisfaction. "The question is, who were your parents? Are you one of the Sun King's daughters--no? A daughter of the old king himself? He had many concubines, lesser wives. You could not be his daughter by the queen or you would have been used to bind a marriage. Come, Scarab, say something. I hit near the mark, do I not?"
Scarab shrugged delicately. "Does it matter? Whoever I was once, I am no more. The world has passed on."
"Well, that much is true. Nobody seeks to make use of you now." Ashraz stared at the red-haired woman for several moments. "Confound it, I have to know."
"Why, Ashraz? You admit I'm no longer relevant, so what does it matter who I am?"
"Because I hate a mystery...you were in Akhet-Aten when the festival occurred. I remember because the plague struck at that time and I barely escaped with my life. You feel alive when death just misses you. It sharpens the mind and and...You were there, with the king and his oldest daughters...but one was missing and...and...you took her place. By Holy Marduk, Scarab, you are not a child of some concubine or minor wife. The Sun King would never lower himself so far. You would have to be of true royal blood for him..." Ashraz's eyes opened wide. "The youngest daughter of the old king and Tiye, whose name was silence so long many thought you dead. What was your name...what was it...? It was an 'Aten' name...Servant of the Aten?"
"Handmaiden of the Aten," Scarab said calmly. "Beketaten, daughter of Nebmaetre and Tiye, sister to Akhenaten, Smenkhkare and Tutankhamen."
"As I thought."
"You knew?" Scarab asked.
"Not for certain, but I had assured my king you were, so it is a relief to know I did not lie. One has to exercise care when lying to kings."
"Why did you not just ask me, instead of asking all these questions?"
"Would you have told me?"
"Why not? I have told you now. There is little you can do with the knowledge."
"There is little I can do, but my king can make great use of you, I think."
"And who is your king?" Khu asked. "What little king rules these lands?"
"Not so little, lad, and it would be wise to keep a civil tongue in your head...while you can. My king is Aziru, son of Abda-Shirta, ruler of Amurru."
"What use do you envisage Aziru finding for me?"
"I think I would rather he told you himself. He sent me to bring you to Taanach."
Scarab grimaced. "I think I can guess his purpose, so perhaps I will just remain here for now."
"I'm afraid you have no choice, Scarab. You can come willingly or by force, but you will go to Taanach."
"I am not without resources, Ashraz, though they are intangible. Have they not told you of the expression of the gods through me?"
Ashraz looked into Scarab's left eye; though his gaze was drawn to the slightly reddened lid of her closed right one, half hidden by her hair. "I have heard stories but they sound incredible. Do you really claim to wield the power of the gods?"
"Why don't you test it, Amorite?" Khu said. "Go on. Attack her."
"What would happen if I did?" Ashraz asked. "I can move faster than you can pray for help."
"There is only one way to find out," Scarab said. "When I first asked for help it came almost too late, but since then it is as if the action precipitates the defence."
"So it is just defensive? If I attacked you, I would merely be stopped? I am minded to try, just to experience the hand of your god."
"You would be stopped, Ashraz, but the method of your attack might result in injury, or even death." Scarab smiled. "Being mindful of the wine we have shared, I ask you not to try."
"Nevertheless, it is intriguing. You are aware that archers follow you, ready to shoot their arrows at you or Khu? Could your god really stop an arrow in its flight before you even knew of its coming?"
"Gods are powerful by their very nature. Who knows what a god can do? Besides, the god need not stop an arrow, merely deflect it with a breath." Scarab grinned. "Imagine, you order an archer to shoot at me and the god deflects the arrow so it strikes you. What irony."
Ashraz laughed too. "This does not help me. My king desires your presence. How can I take you to him when you present such an imposing defence?"
"I don't know. Perhaps if you offered an incentive instead of a threat."
"What incentive?"
"I don't know. I will ponder on this. In the meantime..." Scarab rose to her feet and stretched. "I am tired. I think I will find a quiet spot and sleep...alone, if you don't mind," she added as Ashraz got up too.
Ashraz watched Scarab and Khu wander off in search of peace. He scowled, uncertain as to his course of action. Time to announce myself to Jebu, I think.
* * * * *
"Spying on me for your royal whore-master again, are you?"
"Have a care, Jebu. You may be a successful
general but when has that ever stopped a king from punishing an insult."
"None can overhear us. I have sent the servants out."
"And what of those who are not your servants?"
"Like yourself?"
Ashraz shrugged. "I have no interest in what happens to you. Only your prisoner. Aziru wants to see her."
"Then take her, by all means."
"Thank you. How do you suggest I do that?"
"She's a woman, you're a man. Perhaps if you used your wiles on her."
Ashraz made a rude noise. "Seriously, how can I compel her to do anything when she wields a god like a sword?"
"I'm sure you'll think of something. In the meantime, you are welcome to the hospitality of my army camp, such as it is."
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* * *
Chapter Thirty
Nakhtmin left Waset on one of the royal barges--by chance, the one that used to be called 'Aten Gleams' but had been renamed 'Glory of Amun' during the reign of the boy-king Tutankhamen. He had debated whether to travel by land, marching north with the Amun legion to remove Horemheb from power, but had decided to take the more leisurely river route, gliding in peace on the swift current. Nearing forty years of age, Nakhtmin sometimes experienced twinges of joint pain and the last few years had been taxing on mind and body. Now his father the king had all but promised him his long sought after elevation to the throne after he removed the last real threat to the stability of Kemet. He decided there was no real hurry though and that twelve days spent on a barge to Men-nefer would be a welcome break from routine.
He lay back on the couch under the linen awning spread on the rear deck, a jar of cooled citron drink beside him on one side, and a platter of fruits on the other. A gentle breeze blew from the east, enough to fill the angled sail, but not enough to heel the barge over uncomfortably. Scents of farmland wafted over the water, mingling with the odours of the half a hundred sailors that manned the vessel. Most stood idle now that current and wind sped them on their way, but they would be needed for the long voyage back to the south, using the long oars that lay below the deck. Nakhtmin made a mental note to make sure they bathed thoroughly when they stopped for the night.