“Go home, my friend,” he said warmly. “Take the girl with you and teach her how fortunate she is to be married to an Egyptian. I shall miss you very much.” The speech had cost him a great deal. I don’t want you to go, he shouted silently. I don’t want anything to change between us. I don’t want these turbulent days to warp and twist what we have, as they have driven Aahmes-nefertari and me apart.
“Thank you, Ahmose,” Ramose said with a touching dignity. “I am grateful for all the evidences of your favour. May Thoth continue to grant you wisdom, as I will continue to love and serve you.”
The tent seemed smaller and darker when he had gone. I hate change, Ahmose mused as he sat motionless in the chair, which is odd because I have spent the better part of my short life fighting to achieve it. But there is the change one wreaks oneself and the change that occurs outside the bounds of one’s control, and it is the latter that causes me such distress. Be happy, Ramose. It is time the gods deigned to smile on you. Be at peace.
He was relieved when Ipi bowed his way in and settled down to take the letter that must be dictated to Aahmesnefertari. A longing for her overcame him as he searched for the right words to say. There had still been no communication from her. Ipi had applied his papyrus burnisher with his usual vigour and skill. His pen was poised above the blank scroll and he was waiting patiently. At last Ahmose cleared his throat and began. “To the Queen of Egypt, the Second Prophet of Amun, greetings,” he said. “My dearest Aahmes-nefertari, you will be overjoyed to know that Het-Uart is in my hands and even now its walls are being razed. However, Apepa has fled to Rethennu and I trust you will understand that I must pursue him for the future security of this land. So it will be some time before I can kiss you and assure myself of your good health. Our child will be born very soon. Forgive me for asking you once more to walk that path alone. I know your anger and your loneliness and I beg you not to think of me with condemnation, for I love you truly. I must speak now of Tani …” His voice sounded thin and prating in his ears and Ipi’s rapid breathing very loud. He had a sudden thirst for wine.
14
IT WAS A FULL WEEK before Ahmose and his five divisions uncoiled from the outskirts of Het-Uart and began their march east along the Horus Road. In that time the interior of the palace had been reduced to smouldering rubble and gangs of soldiers from the remaining divisions had begun to demolish its thick walls. A few civilians were trickling back to the city, apprehensive but determined to sleep under their own roofs after wandering aimlessly on either side of the tributary, and Ahmose gave permission for them to return. They were mostly the poor who had nowhere else to go and thus were no threat to the troops who cursed and sweated as they fought to bring down Het-Uart’s defences. Ahmose had no food to offer them, but the Delta was now open and they were free to scrabble about for whatever edible vegetation or unwary animals they could find at that time of the year.
The major sowing of crops would not take place until the following month, but the river had receded to its spring level and the flood plains were already mostly dry. The Horus Road ran east on whatever elevated ground there was, weaving in great curves around the many permanent lakes and tiny waterholes that would not empty. Morale was high among the men. They sang as they strode along beneath the trees, spears canted on their shoulders, axes and swords clattering against their thighs. Ahmose rose at the head of the column that snaked away behind him to be lost in the cold mist of early morning. In front were Ankhmahor and the Shock Troops of Amun and directly behind him rolled the chariot carrying Tani and Heket, a sunshade fixed to its frame, Makhu guiding the horses. His own chariot was being handled by Mesehti.
They covered only twenty-five miles that first day, less than Ahmose would have wished, but in places the Horus Road itself was still soft and the troops needed toughening after their long sojourn outside Het-Uart.
By the second night out the verdant growth of the Delta had begun to thin and they rested on the edge of the Sea of Reeds, a wide marshy area choked with birds, frogs and clouds of mosquitoes and gnats that greedily descended on the army and made the hours until dawn a misery. The road ran straight through its centre, dry enough for chariots in the summer but hard work for horses to pull the little vehicles through the crusting mud at this time of the year until the sun had baked it firm. Ahmose ordered all riders to walk beside their chariots and Tani also got down and paced behind Makhu in her leather boots. She had joined Ahmose and his generals around the fires that were lit in the evening but had said little, sitting on the ground with her chin on her knees, her whole body swaddled in the tasselled cloak. She seemed content and was not suffering any physical discomfort, and Ahmose left her alone.
Towards the end of the fourth day Ahmose began to smell the ocean. The ranks had emerged with relief from the rustling density of the reeds into a rough desert country of sand and gravel and in leaving the watery lushness behind they had also left its varied odours of wet vegetation. The drier air that now filled their lungs carried nothing but the strong tang of brine borne on a stiff, prevailing west wind straight off the sea. Ahmose, who had never even seen the Great Green, tried to analyze what his nostrils were drawing in with equal measures of delight and distaste, and gave up. The scent was beyond anything he knew, but the wind brought salt that coated his lips and made them burn.
At about noon of that day he had sighted portions of the Wall of Princes, the series of small forts his ancestors had built to guard Egypt’s north-eastern border. They were strung out north to south across the Horus Road, straggling from the Great Green to disappear in the desert. There had been shouted greetings exchanged between the sentries on the walls and the Standard Bearers of the Divisions but Ahmose had not halted, though he had noted that several of the forts were in need of repair. And why should the Setiu have bothered to restore them? he thought sarcastically. There were no invaders to threaten their hold on Egypt from the east. Their true enemies were in the south, in Egypt herself.
That night the wind still blew and a squall of rain hit the camp, icy and penetrating. The men lay huddled around their fires in cloaks and blankets, too cold to sleep. Only Tani seemed at peace, lying on her rug under the protection of the unyoked chariot, the tight weave of her heavy Setiu cloak keeping her snug while thousands of soldiers shivered under the lighter Egyptian wool. Ahmose, equally uncomfortable, realized that in passing through the Wall of Princes the Horus Road had ended and he had left the security of Egypt. The rain and dropping temperatures were a fitting welcome to a part of the world he had always hated and feared, although he knew little of it. Most threats to Egypt have come from the east, he reflected, listening to the drenched sentries coughing as they walked the perimeter. My country lies warm and safe under the spells of beneficent gods but they have no interest in anything beyond. Here cold and darkness reign.
But by morning the sky had cleared, although its pastel grey-blue colour seemed to add an extra dimension to the quality of frigidity in the air. The camp was subdued as it broke up, the men saying little and preparing to set out again with their sopping blankets draped around their shoulders to dry. Ahmose anxiously scanned the view ahead. There was a track winding across the pebbled sand but did it lead to Sharuhen or wander away to be lost in some lonely desert waste? He decided to follow it as long as the sun was fairly low in the east and then when noon came to wait for the arrival of the scouts. The thought of leading twenty thousand men astray was not a pleasant one, but a march of a few hours would warm their blood and improve their dispositions.
He had just called a halt and the men had fallen out to squat in the sand and eat their bread and onions when his vanguard spotted a moving dot on the horizon. At Ahmose’s urging Mesehti drove the chariot ahead of the Shock Troops who had sprung to their feet and were reaching for their weapons. He got down and stood shading his eyes. The dot soon separated into a group of six men coming steadily towards him. Ahmose sent one of the Followers to bring up food and beer and by the time he ret
urned the six scouts were wiping the sweat from their brows and two soldiers were erecting the canopy Ahmose had ordered set up. The wind was still brisk, with an edge to it, but the sun was high and dazzling.
Khabekhnet summoned the generals and Turi, Kagemni, Akhethotep, Baqet and Meryrenefer settled themselves in the sand to hear the report. Ahmose, listening to their idle comments in the moment before he spoke, suddenly missed Hor-Aha. He had, of course, gone with the Medjay and Abana, the ships leaving Het-Uart at the same time Ahmose pulled himself up into his chariot and gave the order to march. Few councils of war have been held without him, Ahmose thought rather sadly. His words were few but always cogent. I would like to see his black skin gleaming beside me and this strange-smelling breeze tugging at his braids. Perhaps I shall give him a princedom after all. He broke into the chatter with a wave of his hand. The scouts had finished their meal and were waiting for his permission to speak. It was the scout from Amun’s Division who gave the report.
“You are three, perhaps four days away from Sharuhen, Majesty,” he began. “This track leads straight to it. You have been proceeding due east until now, but tomorrow it will veer north and take you through a country of vast sand dunes. Slow marching, and very cold at night. The dunes end about two miles from Sharuhen where this kind of desert begins again.” He indicated the glaring expanse of stone-littered sand all around them. “Two miles to the west of the fort, on the ocean side, the dunes begin again. They fill all the ten miles between the fort and the Great Green. There is room enough for you to surround Sharuhen completely. But it is as big as Het-Uart, and built of stone.” A murmur of dismay ran through the company and Ahmose’s heart sank. Stone. He was facing another siege unless the gods intervened, and Sharuhen would not fall easily, if at all. Its inhabitants were well-fed and strong, not yet worn down by the months of deprivation a siege produced. “There is a wide road through the dunes from the city to the water,” the scout continued. “Ten miles, but it is well travelled by merchants bearing goods to Sharuhen. Donkeys are available in the small village by the coast and also outside the fort’s western gate. We decided to steal one and make the journey to the Great Green. We understood that Prince Abana would be attempting a blockade from the sea. Nothing is there but the ramshackle village, as I said, some five or six craft of Keftian design anchored offshore, and the North.” He grinned at Ahmose’s expression. “There is no longer any doubt that Apepa is within the city.”
“What of gates?” Ahmose asked tersely.
“There are four: north, south, east and west. They are similar to the gates of Het-Uart, very thick cedar and studded with bronze reinforcements. Many soldiers walk the walls above them.”
“And outside?” The scout shook his head.
“It seemed to us that Sharuhen, being so powerful and isolated, has no need of troops outside its walls. Indeed, Majesty, we saw few people on our journey beyond the Horus Road and they were mostly women, children and old men. We questioned some of them. They belong to the tribe of barbarians that holds all the southern coastal region. Apparently another tribe controls the north and yet more inhabit the high hills far to the east. You will see them in the distance before long. But the hill tribes simply fight each other. They did not even answer the call put out by Apepa’s brothers to come to his defence. I believe, as you do, that most of Rethennu is denuded of able-bodied men. We killed them all in the Delta.” A ripple of laughter greeted his words but it quickly died. Ahmose could see that the generals were thinking of stone walls and mighty gates, even as he was.
“Thank you for your report,” he said to the scouts. “It was clear and you were thorough in your duty. Return to your divisions.”
After they had snatched up the remnants of their meal, the scouts departed. There were a few long minutes of gloomy silence. Then Kagemni spoke for all of them.
“We face another siege, in a country we do not know, far from the source of our food and supplies,” he said heavily. “The route from Egypt will have to be patrolled against attack all the time, in spite of the present emptiness of the land through which we have passed. Is it worthwhile, Majesty? Why not simply reinforce the Wall of Princes, make it an impregnable barrier to all foreigners, and retire behind it?”
“After all, Egypt is now one,” Meryrenefer added. “Apepa is back in the land of his ancestors. Het-Uart belongs to you. Your long struggle is over.”
Ahmose found his eyes wandering to Tani. She had climbed a small hummock of land some way away from the noise of the resting army and was sitting shrouded in her cloak with her back to them all. Heket was holding a sunshade over her. Why not go home? he thought pensively. I could send Tani ahead with a suitable escort and turn my army around and leave Apepa to whatever end fate has in store for him. But there are his sons …
“It would seem sensible to take your advice,” he said carefully, “but I must consider the future, not just our present dilemma. If I return to Egypt, I leave behind a man who has ruled Egypt, and also his heirs. I leave threats to whoever will come after me, men who may raise a unifying flag for any new attempt by foreigners to invade us again, by force or guile, it does not matter. I must at least try to remove any possibility of a claim being made to the throne of Egypt in years to come.”
“But, Majesty, a stone city!” Baqet expostulated. “We are utterly impotent against Sharuhen! A long siege is inevitable, this time with the need to defend our forces from the Great Green and all the surrounding tribes as well as watching the gates! Have we the heart to do this?”
“The soldiers will not lose heart if they are allowed regular visits to their home villages,” Ahmose answered. “Believe me, Baqet, my heart sinks to my belly at the prospect, but I must see this matter through to its end. That is all. Prepare to march.” Reluctantly they got up and left the protection of the canopy which was quickly dismantled.
Ahmose sent a runner to warn Tani. He was angry and depressed. Twice we had an opportunity to capture Apepa and effect a conclusion to this miserable, endless business, he said to himself as he walked to his chariot. Twice we failed. So for our punishment we must go on. I am beginning to feel like a soul condemned to swim forever in the lake of the Underworld while Kamose and my father sail past me in the Celestial Barque, their battles won. Amun, give me the courage necessary to look upon Sharuhen and not despair.
It was as the scout had said. Next day the track turned north, entering a vast waste of rolling dunes whose crests bled in the constant wind. For three days the soldiers trudged with heads down. Sand blew across their path with a constant dry whisper, insinuating itself into nostrils and between parted lips, grinding against teeth, clogging chariot wheels, and settling into seamed flesh. Far to the east Ahmose thought he could discern a thin line of green at the foot of the mountains that had begun to be sighted on the second day and he remarked grimly to Mesehti how it was not surprising that the Setiu had been so desperate to gain permission to graze their flocks and herds in the glorious fertility of the Delta so many hentis ago. “Your ancestors erred out of pity and generosity in letting them in, Majesty,” was the Prince’s curt reply. “Such a decision was in the way of Ma’at but disastrous for Egypt.” Ahmose silently agreed.
At night the wind lessened, but a cold came down to disturb the soldiers’ sleep and rime their blankets with frost. If we are here through summer to winter and another spring, I must find warmer clothing for the troops, Ahmose noted to himself as he lay shivering beside the remains of the fire Mesehti had lit for him earlier. Woollen tunics perhaps, with sleeves. More blankets certainly. Oh, Amun, are you here with me in this accursed place so far from your temple and Amunmose, your High Priest, and Aahmesnefertari, your Second Prophet? He had intended to try and pray but the vision of his wife’s face rose before his inner eye and the words of praise and pleading died. He gave himself up to a troubled half-sleep.
Just after noon on the fourth day, their eighth out from Het-Uart, they sighted Sharuhen. Five miles away, it rose ou
t of the gravelled desert around it like a piece of the mountains to the east that had been lopped off, smoothed, and rammed into the earth by a giant hand. Its air of permanence and invulnerability was daunting. They approached it cautiously, relieved to have left the dunes behind, watching as its towering bulk gained definition in the shimmer of the afternoon light.
Ahmose called a halt just out of range of any archers on the walls and at once deployed his divisions, four to encircle the fort and one to form a perimeter around them to guard against outside attack. There was no shelter anywhere on the plain. A few stunted and thorny bushes clung tenaciously to life and there was some evidence of hardy desert flowers that would bloom briefly under winter rains but it was a desolate arena for a siege.
Ahmose had his tent pitched close to Turi’s. Everywhere he looked his men’s own little shelters were mushrooming white all over the stony ground. Chariots were racing to and fro, officers were shouting, the wagons full of food and supplies were being unloaded, but the noises of preparation were eclipsed by the sudden wild clamour coming from the walls of the city. Ahmose could see men up there running about, pointing and yelling, a mad stridency of surprise, but there was no terror in the voices. They know they have no need to fear an immediate death at our hands, he thought dismally. Our swords cannot reach them. Not yet. Not until they are starving. And this place is big enough to hold many fine gardens and wells within its stone enclosure. There are none outside. Sharuhen is going to defeat me. I feel it. He turned to Khabekhnet, waiting dutifully at his elbow. “Send a runner with guards to the coast,” he ordered. “He can take a chariot. I want to know if Abana and Hor-Aha have arrived and what they have done so far. If all is well with them, have them brought back here together with the Medjay and then summon the generals to a council this evening.” Khabekhnet bowed and went away, bowing again to Tani who was picking her way towards Ahmose.
The Horus Road Page 39