The Amarnan Kings, Book 4: Scarab - Ay

by Overton, Max

  Nakhtmin scowled and strained with his dagger hand. The point crept closer. "Laugh while you can, bitch," he panted, sweat standing out on his face. "You are dead, and with you dies the last threat to my kingship."

  I can feel my strength ebbing. In moments, my arm will fail and his dagger...One last throw of the dice ..."Perhaps you are right, Lord Nakhtmin," Scarab murmured, tiredness and defeat tingeing her voice. "Can we reach an arrangement?"

  Nakhtmin's hand hesitated, delaying the final thrust. "An arrangement?"

  "You said yourself I was the last royal. Marry me and secure your place on the throne beyond any doubt." Scarab felt his arm muscles relax no more than a fraction, but she threw the dice, knowing it was her last and only chance. She took her hand from Nakhtmin's wrist and stabbed upward with her stiffened fingers, even as her opponent jerked the dagger in toward her. Scarab felt a blow to the side of her head and the sting of the blade even as her outstretched fingers plunged into Nakhtmin's eyes.

  The man screamed hoarsely and rocked back, letting go of Scarab's other hand, clutching his own face. Scarab bucked her body and threw him to one side, scrambling away with blood pouring down her face. She shook her head and felt with her fingers a cut at the inside corner of her right eye and...yes ...a scratch on the smooth surface of the stone eye. Without a trace of embarrassment, she lifted the hem of her kilt and wiped the blood from her face.

  Nakhtmin knelt at the far side of the circle and dabbed at his eyes with a linen cloth. His right eye was red and bleeding and his left wept with tears of rage and pain.

  Scarab heard shouting and looked beyond the circle of sailors to the ship and movement near it. She saw soldiers, tough bronzed warriors, who stood taller than the wiry sailors from Nakhtmin's ship. The officer in command boomed out orders and Scarab's heart surged. Paramessu? He's here ? "Over here," she called.

  Nakhtmin also looked around and anger swept over his face. "Ament," he ordered the naval captain. "You will take your men and contain that officer and his men. I will deal with them shortly." He turned back to Scarab with a cruel grin. "The gods are smiling on me today. I will rid myself of two enemies at the same time. First you, then Horemheb's dog, Paramessu." He tossed his dagger aside and took a long curved sword from a sailor. "Let's end this."

  Paramessu's voice lifted again and the remaining sailors in the circle looked nervously toward the ship. "Surrender or die," the general called.

  "I take my orders from Lord Nakhtmin," Ament replied loudly. "You have no authority over me, whoever you are."

  "I am General Paramessu and I act with the full authority of General Horemheb. This is a matter of national security. Stand down your men immediately or die."

  "I...we outnumber you."

  Paramessu laughed. "All the more to die then. Look at us, naval man. Do you doubt our ability?"

  There followed a short silence in which Nakhtmin moved forward and slashed with his sword; once, twice and again. Scarab dodged and weaved, knowing she must hold out. The bronze blade stabbed out, touching her kilt.

  Ament's voice betrayed doubt and fear, but he tried again. "Lord Nakhtmin is the heir. Lifting your sword against him or those he commands is treason."

  "Then I will answer for it to the king," Paramessu said. "Last chance, naval man. Surrender and you can put your case to the king yourself; refuse and you will never know how it turns out."

  "I...I will do so," Ament replied. "Do I have your surety that my men will be unharmed?"

  "Providing the woman still lives."

  There was a pause, during which low voices called back and forth between the circle and the ship. "She is alive," Ament said, "But maybe not for long."

  "Then throw down your weapons...now!"

  Nakhtmin threw himself forward again, scowling. The blade criss-crossed in the air, forcing Scarab back. She tried to duck to one side and cried out as the metal scored a shallow furrow in her forearm. Nebhotep shook himself free of the sailor that held him, ran forward and launched himself at Nakhtmin. The heir clubbed him aside with one hand and stabbed down at the fallen physician. Scarab rushed at him and he missed, but then nearly fell as she was forced to duck under his wild swing. She scrambled back with Nakhtmin in pursuit.

  "Scarab. Hold on. Help is coming."

  Scarab heard the cry and recognised the voice of Khu and she smiled broadly. She darted a glance to her right and saw a confused melee of soldiers and sailors.

  "Here, Scarab," Paramessu called. A sword arced over the ring of sailors and landed flat on the grass a dozen paces away. She ran for it. Nakhtmin uttered a hoarse cry of rage and ran for it too, sword upraised. Scarab got their first but Nakhtmin's blade was descending as she grasped the hilt with her hand. She rolled, her sword swinging up to deflect the other. Then she was on her feet, backing away, testing the weight of Paramessu's sword.

  Nakhtmin straightened and cast a furious look at Paramessu. "What right have you to be here?" he demanded. "Your station is on the northern border. You have left it without permission."

  Paramessu smiled and folded his arms. "I am here on the direct orders of my superior officer, Lord Horemheb. You may take the matter up with him if you wish." He jerked his head toward Scarab. "In the meantime, I believe somebody requires your attention."

  Mose, one of Paramessu's commanders, looked worried. "She could be in danger, sir. Perhaps I should lend a hand."

  "You obviously haven't seen her fight. I could almost pity Nakhtmin."

  Nakhtmin looked askance at Scarab as she stood waiting for him, calmly tapping her leg with the long sword. He grimaced, and lowered his own blade. "You have fought well, Lady Beketaten. I grant you your life."

  Scarab laughed. "But I do not grant you yours, Nakhtmin. You and your father are a stain on the land of Kemet and I have sworn an oath to kill you both. So raise your sword and fight or I will cut you down like a rabid dog."

  "You are overwrought, woman. Come, General Paramessu, you have had dealings with this woman before. Persuade her to leave the affairs of state to those that know about them. She should be managing a household or raising children. Tell her to put the sword down before she injures herself with it."

  "How little you know her," Paramessu said. "But for being born female, she is worthy to sit upon the throne your father usurped. She is suited to the management of kingdoms, not households. As for the sword, take it off her yourself...if you can."

  "As you wish," Nakhtmin said. "I sought merely to save you some grief." He raised his sword and advanced on Scarab.

  This time, Scarab waited for him. She raised her sword and parried his first blow, then his second. He stabbed for her heart and she knocked it aside effortlessly. Now she advanced and Nakhtmin retreated, desperately blocking her blows. Her sword slipped past his defences and scored a line across his chest, and another nicked the muscle of his sword arm.

  "You are going to die," Scarab said conversationally. "Soon you will meet the many men and women you have sent to the underworld before their time. What do you think they will say to you? How will they treat you?"

  Nakhtmin fell back again. Blood now soaked the top of his kilt. He glanced at the sailors still standing in a rough circle. "Help me. An estate for the man who kills her for me." Nobody took his offer and Nakhtmin continued his desperate defence. "What can I offer you, Lady?" he asked Scarab. "If Horemheb wins, he becomes king. You cannot want that. At least Ay is your uncle and a just king despite his faults. Do you want Kemet to suffer a civil war? That is what will happen if I die here today."

  Scarab beat his sword aside and sliced Nakhtmin's kilt from his hips, dealing a savage cut to his thigh as she did so. Blood poured down his leg and he staggered back.

  "I will make you Queen," Nakhtmin cried. "I will place you on the throne beside me. That is far more than Horemheb will give you."

  Scarab halted and lowered her sword. "I do not need you to raise me to the throne of Kemet, for I am there ahead of you. Upon the death of my brother Smenk
hkare I laid him to rest in his tomb, I opened his mouth with Pesheskef, Duwen-a, Neterui, Ur Hekau and Ha-tches, and afterward an anointed High Priest of Amun raised me to the throne of my father and brother. Your father has no legitimacy and neither do you. I could have forgiven you many things, even what you did to me, but not the disgrace you brought on Kemet, not the death of my uncle Aanen, High Priest of Amun. For that you will die, Nakhtmin, son of Djetmaktef."

  Scarab raised her sword again and leapt forward, battering down Nakhtmin's guard with a series of blows. He reeled back and, as his sword fell aside, dropped to his knees and held his hands out in a gesture of submission. Scarab did not hesitate, stepping to her right and bringing her blade round in a whistling arc. The sharp bronze blade bit deep into Nakhtmin's neck, just above the collarbone. He shrieked, blood fountaining high into the air, but before the blood spattered on the ground, Nakhtmin, adopted son of Ay, collapsed, dead.

  For the space of four breaths, not a sound was heard in the field, save that of the wind sighing gently through the reeds near the river. Then Khu and Nebhotep erupted into cheers and ran across to Scarab, clapping her on the back and embracing her. Terrik and Salom were close behind, and Paramessu waited until her friends had finished before confronting her.

  "Congratulations, Scarab," he said softly. "As always, it is a mistake to underestimate you."

  Scarab nodded, weariness showing in the posture of her whole body. "What now, Paramessu? Have you come to claim me as your prize?" At her words, her four friends stopped smiling and closed protectively around her.

  "It is my intention to convey you to Horemheb. He is marching with the northern legions to confront Ay at Men-nefer. I imagine you will want to be in at the kill."

  "You mean to set me on the throne beside Horemheb, like that one offered?" Scarab pointed at Nakhtmin's corpse.

  "Not like that one. Do not make a decision now; wait until you have spoken to Horemheb. He will be king, you know. By force of arms, after which he will seek to legitimise his claim. Listen to him; his offer will honour you."

  "And if I choose to just walk away?"

  "I have my orders and the men to enforce them."

  "You would fight against the gods? You see what happened to that one."

  Paramessu permitted himself a ghost of a smile. "I saw a well-trained fighter at work, not the gods. I know you have powers, Scarab, but I would ask you to come with me willingly. If you will not, I must try and force you and then innocent men will die."

  Scarab sighed and nodded. "First, I must wash." She turned and walked toward the river. Paramessu ordered two men to accompany her. She waded through the reeds and stripped off her blood-soaked kilt, diving forward into the clear water.

  Paramessu beckoned to the naval captain. "Ament, have the body of Lord Nakhtmin washed and returned to his father at Men-nefer."

  "That is not a message I would willingly bear," Ament said. Paramessu nodded. "I understand. Tell his father that you met up with me and my men and that I had overwhelming force. I will not contradict you."

  "And...and his death? You claim that too?"

  "No. Tell him Lord Nakhtmin fought his prisoner for sport and was killed by her."

  Ament nodded, if somewhat reluctantly, and started organising his men.

  "Oh, one other thing," Paramessu said. "Do you have a clean gown on board for Lady Beketaten? Have it brought, will you?"

  Refreshed and clean, Scarab donned a robe from Nakhtmin's cabin on the ship and, together with her companions, walked to the small boats that had brought Paramessu's men from Zarw. Two soldiers carried Nebhotep on a makeshift stretcher and Khu consulted with the physician before demanding medicines and bandages from the naval stores on the vessel. Nebhotep looked well pleased with the way in which Khu tended to his injuries, and he made him treat Scarab's wounds too.

  The ship resumed its voyage upriver to Men-nefer, now carrying the body of Nakhtmin to the embalmers. Paramessu's small fleet followed, and turned down the first branch when they came to it, swiftly riding the current toward the Zarw canal and Horemheb's legions.

  Khu insisted on accompanying Scarab in one of the boats and chattered away about everything that had happened since Jebu's camp. "Why don't you just use your powers?" he asked. "We could easily escape back to the desert."

  "The gods have departed," she replied gently. "We are left to our own resources."

  "But Horemheb..."

  "Horemheb has us in his hands. Let it be for now, dear Khu. We can reassess our options when Ay is dead and we are in Men-nefer."

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  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  The old palace of Men-nefer enjoys many views of the bustling city, the broad sweep of the river, tombs and monuments erected by the kings of ancient times and, far in the distance, the red desert. There are views for any mood, and the terraces and verandahs, with their cool columned depths and scented trees were popular with kings whenever they stayed in what was once the capital city of Kemet.

  King Kheperkheperure Irimaat Ay sat on an east-facing verandah, watching the broad green avenue of the Great River and the flocks of tiny white-winged boats that dotted its surface. He had arrived in the city two days before, in answer to his son's urgent request. Nakhtmin was returning from Gubla with the traitor known as Scarab. She was to be brought before him, judged, condemned and executed. With her death, the last obstacle to the stability of his dynasty's reign would be removed.

  "Well, last but one," he muttered. "There is still Horemheb."

  The slave wafting the ostrich-plume fan hesitated for a fraction of a beat before realising the king was not talking to him. He redoubled his efforts.

  "Where is he? Where is my son?" Ay got up and tottered a few steps forward to the edge of the verandah, as if those few paces could reveal Nakhtmin's presence. He looked out toward the sail-speckled river, his eyes hopeful. After a few minutes, he walked slowly back and sat down. He called for the Chamberlain and demanded that his son be brought to him.

  "He is a naughty boy," Ay cried. "I sent for him but he has disobeyed me. Find him for me, please."

  "Your majesty," Meres the Chamberlain replied carefully, "Lord Nakhtmin has not yet arrived."

  "Arrived? Has he been gone? Where?" Ay started to cry. He waved the Chamberlain away and rested his head in his hands. "Oh, my son, come quickly, I need you." He wiped his tears away with the hem of his robe and looked around the verandah as if wondering where he was. His gaze fell on a small gilt statue of the god Amun wearing the double crown of Kemet and this sparked a memory. He remembered he had set in motion the process of raising his son to the throne. "Ah, Nakhtmin, my beloved son. When you are king beside me, I can step down and relax. I am so tired." Ay yawned and looked out at the river again. A larger craft, a naval vessel by the look of it, appeared far down-river, its oars thrashing as it fought against the current. Slowly, it crept closer to the city and crabbed across the flow, easing into a dock and becoming lost to sight as it slipped behind the buildings of the city.

  "Good, good. He has come at last. Now, will he come alone to greet his father, or will he bring me a present? Where should I receive him? In my quarters or in the Hall of Judgment?" Ay rose and hurried off to change, deciding that he would greet his son in the great Hall of Judgment where all could see him return in triumph. He would name Nakhtmin his co-ruler immediately and have that traitor woman put to death.

  Ay seated himself on the Throne of Judgment in the Hall where the king dispensed justice to any who called on it, whenever he was in Men-nefer. He had donned a clean pleated Shendyt kilt, a diaphanous robe and gilt sandals. He wore the trappings of royalty - the double crown with uraeus, the strap-on false beard - and he held the crook and flail of kingly authority in his slightly trembling hands. Gold bands circled his thin arms and an ornate pectoral of lapis and topaz set in gold covered his scrawny chest. He stared out at the quickly gathered nobles and court officials with rheumy eyes, not seei
ng them, his whole attention riveted on the doors at the far end, through which Nakhtmin would presently stride. The Chamberlain, Meres, waited to one side and slightly behind, ready to turn the king's slightest whim into reality, and the fan-bearers, nobles eager for this mark of royal favour, stood behind the throne.

  The doors opened and Ay straightened, his expression eager. Then he frowned because the figure entering the Hall was unfamiliar. The courtiers and nobles turned to examine the newcomer who looked very hesitant, but advanced slowly up the long open avenue toward the raised throne.

  "Who is he, Meres? He is not my son, is he?"

  The Chamberlain leaned toward the king slightly, murmuring his response. "No, your majesty. He is a naval captain judging by his insignia. No doubt he arrived on the ship that just docked."

  "Well, find out what he wants and get rid of him. My son will be arriving at any moment."

  Meres stepped forward. "State your name and business here before the king," he called.

  The man stopped and dropped to his knees, holding his hands out in supplication. "I...I...my n...name is A...Ament, noble s...sir. I b...bring news for the...the king's ears."

  "What news? Speak swiftly and do not waste the king's time."

  "Noble sir," Ament said. He looked round at the people crowding the hall before turning back to face Meres, agony written in his face. "It...it is the king's son, Lord Nakhtmin..."

  "My son?" Ay asked. "You have a message from my son?"

  Ament trembled and prostrated himself full length on the floor before speaking again, his voice muffled against the stone. "Not a message, your...your majesty. News."

  "Get up," Ay snapped. "Meres, I cannot understand a word he is saying. Does he have a message from Nakhtmin or not?"

  Meres hesitated. The naval officer's attitude jarred. A simple message from the heir should not engender fear in the messenger. "Your majesty, let me have this man interrogated in private. If he has a message I can extract it without everyone listening."