by Overton, Max
A young woman not yet twenty sat beside his couch, her long legs curled underneath her as she rested her head on the pillow beside him. Nakhtmin played absently with the black plaited tresses of her wig, thinking about the next two weeks. He put thoughts of Horemheb aside and smiled down at the woman.
"This is your first time out of Waset, isn't it, Merit?"
Merit looked up at Nakhtmin through long lashes. "Yes, my lord."
"We will be traveling alone for twelve days. Does that please you?"
"Oh yes, my lord. I shall be most attentive."
Nakhtmin let his hand trace the curve of Merit's neck and continued on down to her firm young breasts visible beneath the diaphanous fabric of her dress. She immediately bent her head and delicately traced patterns on his chest and belly with her lips and the tip of her tongue. Officers patrolling the decks a few paces away cracked their whips at any sailor ill-mannered enough to look at the lord and lady.
The crown prince continued to stroke Merit's body, feeling his own ardour rise under her practised ministrations. He thought again that it was time he took a wife and started a family. I must find a woman...a woman who can be queen. Not this one though. Her family is minor; I need a woman from one of higher noble families . My son will follow me on the throne after all . "Aa...ah..." her lips forced a ragged sigh from him and he squeezed her breast hard, feeling her flinch. "Enough. We shall retire to the cabin." Nakhtmin rose to his feet, his kilt awry, and grasping Merit by one arm hustled her aft to the cabin, his need suddenly urgent.
The barge continued on its way and if anyone heard the cries and muffled sobs that emanated from the cabin, none was prepared to admit to it. What a lord and lady did in private was no concern of anyone else--especially when the lord was the heir to the throne.
Nakhtmin stepped ashore at last on the docks at Men-nefer nearly twelve days later, dressed in fine linens and resplendent with gold. The mayor of the city waited for him with closed carriages for the heir and for his companion, but Merit remained on board, reluctant to let any see her bruises and reddened eyes. Nakhtmin put her from his mind and hurried to the palace, where he called for his commanders and his Head of Intelligence, Setnakht.
"Assemble the Sept and Sobek legions on the training fields across the river," he instructed. "I have an important duty for them."
"May we know the nature of the task, my lord?" Iurudef, the Sobek commander asked.
"We will proceed to Zarw and put Horemheb under arrest."
The legion commanders looked at each other. "General of the Armies, Lord Horemheb?" asked Nebamen, commander of Sept.
"Under arrest?" asked Iurudef.
"The king commands it. Do you have a problem obeying this command?"
"No my lord," the two commanders said in unison.
"Then do your duty," Nakhtmin said. "We leave at noon tomorrow. Be ready."
When the commanders had left, he turned to Setnakht. "What news from Sinai? Is it certain she is dead?"
"Not entirely, my lord."
"What is that supposed to mean? You assured me her capture meant her death."
"Yes, my lord. That is precisely what one could expect from the Amorites, particularly those led by General Jebu. We tracked the chariots and found they came from the chariot squadron of Jebu's army. Incidentally, it appears that Jebu has just won a signal victory over our northern army."
"Then that is something Horemheb can explain to the king, my father. Did your men find any evidence of her death or is it supposition?"
"I regret to say it is supposition, my lord...except..."
Nakhtmin scowled. "I hope this is not bad news. I do not want bad news."
"I'm not sure, my lord. King Aziru has sent messengers to Horemheb and to King Kheperkheperure Ay offering, in his words, 'a hostage of great value'."
"How do you know of this?"
"My agents intercepted the messenger traveling to Waset. They questioned the man and then released him. Seeing as the message was to the king, they thought they had better let him complete his mission."
"A hostage of great value? Who? Did the messenger say?"
"No my lord, but he said the king's message followed hard on the heels of a Khabiru woman arriving at Taanach. As you know, the lady in question could be mistaken for Khabiru."
"She didn't the last time I saw her," Nakhtmin muttered. Louder, he asked, "Why would Aziru send his messenger to Horemheb...ah, I see. If Horemheb thinks to use her for the only purpose she is useful for, then he contemplates treason. Even more reason to move quickly. The safety of the kingdom depends on it."
"My lord?" Setnakht said. "I don't understand..."
"Nor need you. Follow on the heels of my commanders and tell them we leave at dawn tomorrow and I intend a forced march to reach Zarw."
* * * * *
"Lord Horemheb, General Paramessu." The Amorite messenger bowed low and then spoiled his attempt at manners by scratching his hairy chest. "I bring greetings from King Aziru of Amurru, and an offer that may be of mutual benefit."
"The only thing that he could offer would be to slit his stinking belly open," Paramessu snarled.
The messenger stared but said nothing, his hand continuing its mission among his matted body hair.
"I cannot imagine what King Aziru can offer me," Horemheb said. "Nor what I can offer him. Has he forgotten we are at war?"
The Amorite shrugged. "I was just to bring the message to you, Lord Horemheb, and take back a reply."
"Then tell us your message."
"King Aziru has come into possession of a hostage of great value. He believes that you will pay a great deal to have this person delivered safely into your hands."
"Really? And who is this person?"
"A woman, Lord Horemheb."
"I have women, Kemetu women. What need have I of hairy Amorite women?"
"This one has red hair and is known to you. She is..."
"Scarab!" Paramessu cried. "She is alive?"
"Yes, General Paramessu. Alive and in good health, enjoying the hospitality of King Aziru."
"I know this woman, as you say, but why would I pay to have her?"
The messenger shrugged again. "I do not know. I have delivered my message. Do you want me to take back a reply?"
"Perhaps," Horemheb said. "Wait outside and I will think on it."
The Amorite turned to go but Paramessu called him back. "Aziru is no fool. Do you intend to take this offer elsewhere?"
"No General, Zarw was my sole destination." The messenger grinned, gap-toothed. "Other messengers were sent south to Waset."
"You may leave." Paramessu waited until the doors closed behind the Amorite before speaking again. "How much is Scarab worth to you?"
"You know that. When I take the throne it would help if I took her as my royal wife, but if I cannot, well..." Horemheb shrugged, "...force of arms will have to suffice."
"So you will not pay to get her back?"
"Perhaps. I shall have to see what price is asked."
"And Ay? What do you think his response will be?"
"If I was Ay and wanted her dead, I would let her remain with Aziru. He would tire of her soon enough and kill her. However, he knows she is useful to me, so I think he will bid for her--or pay Aziru to kill her."
"You will let him do this?"
"I cannot prevent him. However, I shall open negotiations myself. Aziru is greedy, he will not decide until he hears the offer from both parties. Call the messenger back in."
* * * * *
Ay received the Amorite messenger in a small reception room with only Maya the treasurer in attendance. The king's guards had searched the messenger thoroughly and now armed solely with body odour, he was admitted into the king's presence.
The messenger sank to his knees on the stone-flagged floor of the hall and, following instructions, made obeisance to the King of Kemet. "Your majesty, King Kheperkheperure Ay, my master King Aziru of Amurru, sends his greetings, one monarch to anothe
r, and bids me offer a token of friendship."
Ay signalled for the messenger to rise to his feet. "What is this token he offers?"
"Your majesty, I was told to reveal it only to you or the crown prince." The messenger glanced at the corpulent figure of the treasurer.
"You may speak. This man is trusted."
"As your majesty wishes. The message is as follows: King Aziru is in possession of a hostage of great value. He would like to return this hostage to your care but asks if he will be recompensed for his trouble."
"Who is the hostage?"
"A woman who goes by the name of Scarab."
"Scarab? How in Set's name did he come by her?"
"I do not know, your majesty. I am but the messenger."
"If I may, your majesty," Maya murmured. "Does King Aziru have this Scarab in his possession, or does he just know where she can be found? For that matter, can we be certain it is her?"
"The woman is in Taanach. I have seen her myself. She is tall, red-haired, with a damaged eye--her right one."
"That is her," Ay stated. "Aziru would not waste my time with an imposter." He stared at the Amorite. "What...recompense...does your master want?"
"I do not know, your majesty. I am only a messenger. I am instructed to say that if you are interested, King Aziru will send a negotiator to discuss the ransom."
"Your majesty," Maya whispered. "The treasury is not overflowing. Your temple building program..."
"I must have her," Ay growled. "Have her here or have her dead. Would Aziru accept a fee for killing her?"
"That would be a matter for the negotiator, your majesty."
"Go to the end of the room," Ay instructed the Amorite. "I wish to discuss this with my treasurer." He leaned closer to Maya and lowered his voice. "My health is poor and I cannot travel north. You will have to do this for me."
"Of course, your majesty, but Prince Nakhtmin went north to Men-nefer and beyond. Would he not be a more logical negotiator?"
Ay nodded. "A good thought. Providing he can be found." He called the Amorite back over. "You must take this message to Lord Nakhtmin. He was going to Men-nefer and then possibly to Zarw. You will find him and give him a letter from me at the same time as you deliver the message."
The messenger bowed. "Yes, your majesty. I'll need a horse if I'm to make the journey quickly."
"There is no need for undue haste. The woman isn't going anywhere, and I care not if she dies in the meantime."
"As your majesty wishes," the messenger said. "However, it's possible that if you will not ransom her, someone else will." Ay raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Lord Horemheb, your majesty. King Aziru sent a messenger to him also. As he is in Zarw, he probably has the message already."
Ay's tired eyes flashed. "Horemheb. That man intrudes in affairs of state once too often. I will have his life for this. What possessed Aziru to send word of this to one of my generals?"
"I cannot say with certainty, your majesty, but it's known that Lord Horemheb covets the throne of Kemet." The messenger smiled knowingly, seeing his words strike home. "He's not royal by birth, your majesty. He would need a royal marriage--to one such as Lady Beketaten. King Aziru imagines Horemheb will pay handsomely for the woman. He wonders whether you will better it."
Ay struck the arm of his throne with his fist. "Curse you. How dare you speak to me like that? I'll have you flogged until your backbone shows."
The messenger paled but he spoke firmly. "Your majesty, these were but the words my king bade me utter. If he supported Lord Horemheb in his bid, he would not have sent me to you. As a king himself, Aziru knows the dangers of a capable general, and seeks, through this message, to apprise you, a fellow king, of this danger."
Ay glared at the man standing before him but slowly calmed down, his florid face gradually assuming its natural colouration. "Thank King Aziru for his concern and words of warning, when next you see him. As regards this message, you will find Nakhtmin, my son, and convey a letter to him at the same time. The matter is urgent. You will be given a horse and escort for the journey north. Go now and prepare."
The messenger bowed again and left the chamber. Ay sent Maya to fetch a scribe and started to compose a letter to his son, impressing upon him the importance of outbidding Horemheb if he had not yet managed to kill him. "Don't fail me in this, my son," he muttered. "Or else you won't have a throne to inherit."
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* * *
Chapter Thirty-One
Salom had hurried away to find the other members of the Pillar and had finally crossed the tracks of a body of men. Subtle signs in the dust were obvious to one trained in the ways of the desert, and he knew within minutes that these were the men he sought and that they had passed this way less than an hour before. He turned to follow them, settling into a loping run and clearing his mind of its chatter. Once, he came across a place where the men of the Pillar had stopped to rest and, nearing sunset, found that the track divided, one set of tracks curving around to the east while the others continued to the northwest.
They know someone follows . Salom continued along the main trackway but found individual sets of footprints branching off into the desert and fading away. He halted and knelt, examining the prints with great care. After a few moments he backtracked to where the trail met a shelf of rock and cast about, examining the edges of the platform in the failing light. There ...A fragment of crumbled rock was pressed down into the sand, almost invisible, and a few paces further along, a small uneven depression as if a foot had slipped. Careless ...Shalom looked along the line and saw the outcrop of rock on the horizon. Do I follow now or wait for morning? I will fall behind if I wait but risk losing them altogether if they turn in the night . He opted to follow, gambling that the distant outcrop offered shelter for the men of the Pillar.
The moon rose, turning the desert silver and black and the stars followed, staring down at him. The temperature dipped and faint sounds became amplified in the crisp air. Whenever he stopped, Shalom heard faint scratchings or scrapings in the darkness and tried to identify each one before he ran on. Snake, scorpion, beetle...the rustle of sand down the slip-face of a dune ...Once a dark shadow bounded silently across his path and his hand flew to his dagger, his heart pounding. The shadow stopped on a slight rise and turned back to look, pointed ears cocked in his direction before it disappeared beyond. Jackal ...His strength faded as the dawn approached and he could just make out the rocky outcrop looming near at hand. Thanks be to the gods. I will sleep for a few hours and find the trail again when it is light .
The sand boiled around him. His dagger was plucked from his hand and he was borne to the ground with a blade at his throat. Despite the shock of the attack, Salom could feel the uncertainty in the man pinning him to the ground.
"What are you waiting for?" hissed a voice from the blackness. "Finish him."
Salom felt the man shift and knew the thrust of the blade was seconds away. "Jesua," he rasped. "It is I, Salom."
"Hold." The blade withdrew fractionally, leaving a thin trickle of blood on Salom's neck, black against grey. "We can risk no light. Identify yourself--quickly."
"I am Salom, Watchman of the Pillar, guide of the outsider Khu companion of the Eye. I am cousin to Terrik. Our mothers are sisters, daughters of Mallon."
"It is Salom," said another voice from the darkness. "Let him up, Nebhotep."
Salom rose and brushed down his robes. He touched the wound in his neck and stared at the man in front of him, a vague outline in the early dawn light increasing around them. "Nebhotep? When did you become a warrior?"
"He is scarcely worthy of the name," Jesua grumbled. "A boy could have done better."
"I'm a physician," Nebhotep said quietly. "Not a warrior. I give life rather than take it."
Jesua laughed. "Then you're an unusual physician. Most that I've come across kill more than they save." The leader of the Pillar brushed Nebhotep aside and confronted Salom. "What are you doing here?
Does the Eye follow you?"
"She sent me to find the Pillar."
"You left her alone?" Jesua asked, his voice incredulous. "Your duty is to protect her. This is ill done."
"What would you have had me do? Send Khu back alone? He is an outsider and would be lost by now, if not dead. Besides, she ordered me."
"Where did you leave her? And why?"
"We found the camp of her enemy Nakhtmin west of here, close to the broken lands. She bade me bring you there, so together we might plan his death."
Jesua peered at Salom, hearing the exhaustion in his voice. "Break your fast, Watchman of the Pillar, and then sleep while you can. By the time the sun is a handspan above the horizon I mean to be on our way."
They ran west that morning, the sun burning at their backs, the dust of their passing lifting high in the sky. Jesua set a fast pace but detailed two men to help Salom until he found his inner strength. The Pillar rested at noon for three hours during the heat of the day. Salom collapsed and slept until he was shaken awake. He arose refreshed and snacked on dried dates as the men set off again, this time with the sun in their eyes. By sunset, they reached the region called the broken lands.
"Where now?" Jesua asked.
Salom looked around carefully. "North," he said. "Yes, north, but not far. We must be careful we don't overrun it." He led the Pillar now, slowly, searching for landmarks or signs that soldiers had passed that way. He found them.
"There." He pointed to prints of sandaled feet and the distinctive form of Scarab's goat hide footwear. "We followed them. The camp is over there." Salom pointed toward a ridge masked by the dusk. The men climbed the ridge and peered cautiously over the top, toward a low hill in the distance now as dark and lifeless as the surrounding desert. "That is where the camp lay and somewhere down in that darkened plain is where I left the Eye of Geb and her companion."
"She may have been there when you left her," Jesua pointed out, "But if the soldiers have gone, then she has likely followed them." He shrugged. "We cannot find her hiding place or follow her in the dark so we camp here. Be ready to start at first light."