by Lauren Haney
Bak was stunned, the news too difficult to grasp. Imsiba gaped, unable to believe. Nebwa, the commandant’s second-in-command, muttered an oath beneath his breath, his usual response to so startling a pronouncement.
“When will you leave, sir?” Bak managed.
Thuty’s eyes settled on Nebwa, as if he had asked the question. “I’ll remain in Buhen until my replacement arrives. The officer selected, Commander Neferperet from the garrison at Waset, should report here in about a month.”
The troop captain, an untidy, coarse-featured man in his early thirties, looked stricken. “A man new to this land of Wawat?”
Bak’s heart leaped out to the officer, one of his closest friends. All who dwelt in Buhen knew of Nebwa’s long posting in the garrison and his high level of competence. Few had doubted he would be given command should Thuty leave.
Thuty looked exceedingly uncomfortable. “I know you hoped to replace me as commandant of Buhen, but Viceroy Inebny thought to make you commander of Semna instead.
Later, he said, you’ll have the additional experience needed to occupy my chair.”
“I understand, sir.” Skipping a rank was unusual and they all knew it, but Nebwa’s disappointment was plain. He was as well-schooled in the commandant’s many duties as Thuty himself.
“I countered with a suggestion I believe far more advantageous-to you and me both.” Thuty leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. His brows were heavy, his chin firm, and the normally hard set of his mouth was relieved by what looked suspiciously like self-satisfaction.
The same look he displayed when proclaiming a positive outcome to an impossible assignment not yet begun. “I wish you to go north with me, Troop Captain, north to Mennufer.”
Bak sucked in his breath, startled by the idea, dismayed at the thought of losing so close a friend.
“Sir?” Nebwa asked, as if not sure he had heard right.
“Mennufer is a large and important training garrison directly under the eye of Menkheperre Thutmose.” Thuty spoke of their sovereign’s nephew and stepson, co-ruler in name only, a youth who had taken upon himself the task of rebuilding an army that had languished from years of neglect. “If I’m to do my task well-and I’m determined to do so-I must have as my right hand a man I can trust, one of unusual competence and ability, one uninvolved in political intrigue. I see you as that man.”
Nebwa looked doubtful. The son of a common soldier, born and reared in Wawat, he had always been posted on the 12
Lauren Haney
southern frontier. Of equal importance, his wife was a local woman. A move to Kemet would not be easy for either of them. “Is that an order, sir?”
“I’d make you my second-in-command, Nebwa, as you are here, and head of all training. I believe the rank of troop captain too low for such a responsible task.”
“I’ll be leaving everything I know, sir.” Nebwa glanced at Bak and Imsiba. “Including men I hold closer in my heart than I would a brother.”
Thuty waved off the objection. “I suggested to Inebny that Lieutenant Bak also accompany me to Mennufer.”
Bak felt as if he had been hit hard in the stomach: a bit sick and his breath torn away. “What of my men, sir? How can I leave them?” Immediately after the words were spoken, shame washed through him. Imsiba, his logical successor, was as competent a leader of men as he was. Maybe more so. To leave behind a friend so close would be abominable, but if the big Medjay gained by the loss, the breach should be easier to accept.
“The Medjays in Mennufer are civil police.” Thuty’s eyes drifted toward the bowl on the floor. He paused as if losing his thought, then looked back at the man to whom he was speaking. “I need a dependable force to maintain order in the garrison, a force part of and yet separate from the army, as you and your men are here. And so I told Inebny. He’s agreed that you may go with me as a unit, should you desire.
If so, he’ll request a fresh company of Medjays to replace the men.”
“Am I to go with them, sir?” Imsiba asked. The very fact that he had been summoned with Bak portended change.
“I recognize how invaluable you are to Bak’s company, but I hesitated to recommend that you move north with us.
You’re fully capable of standing at the head of the new unit of Medjays, and you’re worthy of promotion to an officer’s rank. In addition, I know your wife’s cargo ship sails out of Buhen and her business thrives.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’ve a choice to make, Sergeant. To step into Bak’s sandals and move up in rank, or to go with your friends to Mennufer.” He looked back at Nebwa, who clung to his doubtful expression as if it were molded of gold, and added,
“If they decide to go.”
Bak thought of how fond he had become of this desolate fortress to which he had initially been exiled. Buhen was his home, a place he loved above all others. How could he leave? How could any of them leave? “Can you give us a few days to think on the matter, sir?”
“A day or two at most. Should you choose to go, Inebny will need time to summon replacements.” A scowl flitted across Thuty’s face, an afterthought that must be aired. “One thing more you must know, Lieutenant, Sergeant. If you choose to go with me, I can promise no increase in rank.
You’d both have to prove yourselves once again-not to me, but to the many men in lofty positions who’ve nothing better to do than sit on their plump backsides and criticize their betters.”
“Yes, sir,” they said as one.
Nebwa joined in the chorus, as aware as Bak and Imsiba that he also would have to impress the bureaucrats who dwelt and toiled in the northern capital.
Thuty’s glance dropped to the bowl at Bak’s feet. “Now what have you brought, Lieutenant?”
“I can just about understand a man, one whose family is starving, breaking into a tomb in a time of need.” Thuty dropped heavily onto his chair, rubbed his eyes. “But today?
No. We live in a time of prosperity, where every man has a task and none face want.”
Bak let the bracelet fall from the tip of his dagger and sink back into its viscous gold bath. “Greed is seldom related to need, sir.”
Ignoring the banality, Thuty motioned him to sit. As soon as Bak had told his tale, Imsiba and Nebwa had hurried away, both to talk to their wives about the prospect of leaving Buhen for a new and different life in the faraway city of Mennufer. Bak was grateful he had no one close to tell, no one to whom he must break such startling news. Except Hori. And the Medjays. Men he must speak with right away, before they heard from some other source.
“Other than getting the truth from Nenwaf and seeing that he’s punished, the theft isn’t our problem,” Thuty said. “We must send these objects to Waset, where men closer to the burial places can seek out the vile criminal who’s robbing the dead.”
“After we learn all Nenwaf knows-if anything-I’ll prepare a report and send it north by courier.” Another thought struck. “Your wife could take it, sir, along with the jewelry.
Does she not have family in Waset? Will she not pack your household goods and go on ahead of you, stopping there to see them on her way to Mennufer?”
“She will, but. .”
“To lessen the chance of discovery, a man must dispose of a few objects at a time over a long period. I doubt a speedy delivery is necessary.”
Thuty hesitated a moment, reached a decision. “You must take them, Lieutenant.” He glanced quickly at Bak and, with a smile that may or may not have been sheepish, amended the order. “If you decide to move with me to Mennufer, you’ll want to stop in Waset to visit your father. You could leave Buhen right away and deliver the jewelry. That would give you a month or two with your parent before I reach the capital. You could sail from there to Mennufer with me.”
Bak smiled at the so-called error. He knew Thuty well, knew he was already assuming the men he wished to take with him would ultimately decide to go. “If I choose to remain in Buhen, I’ll send my
report by courier. To whom shall it go, sir? The mayor of western Waset?” He was referring to the small city across the river from the capital, an urban area whose residents supported the growing number of cemeteries, memorial temples, and small mansions of the gods that overlooked the vast cultivable plain along the river.
Smiling at the not-so-subtle reminder that he might not get his way, the commandant rose from his chair and strode across the room to open the door leading to a long stairwell that rose from ground level to the battlements. Cooler air escaped from the dark, enclosed passage. “We don’t know the mayor. We do know Amonked. We know we can trust him to do what has to be done. The report should go to him and so should the jewelry.”
Bak nodded agreement. The decision was a good one.
Amonked was cousin to their sovereign, Maatkare Hatshepsut. They had come to know him several months earlier when he had journeyed south up the river, inspecting the fortresses that guarded the southern frontier. He had made many difficult-to-keep promises and had successfully followed through on them all.
“So I’ll be free of you at last.” Nofery leaned back in her chair, one of the few in Buhen and an object she valued highly, and smiled. “The lord Amon never ceases to bestow abundance on those who praise him.”
In the wavering light of the torch mounted beside the courtyard door, Bak studied the obese old woman, searching for any sign of regret. He could find none. He knew how adept she was at hiding her feelings, but he was hurt nonetheless. “I spoke with Hori and my Medjays for over an hour. Buhen is our home, its people our family, but in the end we had no choice. How could we refuse such an unlikely offer, where all of us will remain together?”
“Even the three who’ve taken local women as wives?”
Her attention was focused on the open doorway leading to the large room at the front of the building, where her customers reveled. Her voice was cool, indifferent. Trouble-some to one who thought of her as a friend.
“I’ve given them leave to stay, should they desire.”
Nofery’s eyes slid toward Nebwa. “Well? What have you decided?” She stared hard at him, offering no more warmth or regret than she had given Bak.
He queried Bak with a glance, the questions plain on his face: Could the woman care so little about them? Could she have been feigning friendship throughout the years they had known her? “Faced with a choice of imminent promotion to commander in an important garrison like Mennufer or spending several years in a like position in a backwater like Semna, what would you do?”
“What of your wife? Will she not object?”
Nebwa laughed ruefully. “She wants to go. Can you believe it? A woman who’s never been farther away from Buhen than a day’s walk, and she wants to see the world.”
Voices rose in the next room, men wagering. Knucklebones clattered across the floor, followed by a triumphant laugh and the exaggerated moans of loss. A scantily clad young woman came through the door, leading a soldier who offered a halfhearted salute to the two officers and the pro-prietress of the house of pleasure. A low growl drew the man’s eyes to a half-grown lion lying on a mat in the corner, sending him rushing through a rear door. Flashing a dazzling smile at Nebwa and Bak, the girl followed.
“What of Imsiba and Sitamon?” Nofery demanded. “Will they, at least, remain behind to keep an old woman company?”
Bak noted a faint tremor in her lips. She was upset about their leaving. He spread his hands wide, shrugged. “We’ve heard no word.”
“Could we not go, too?” A sleek youth of a dozen or so years stepped out of the shadows of an adjoining room. His dark, oiled skin glowed in the uncertain light. He knelt beside the lion and rubbed its head, making it purr. “Hori has told me of the wonders of Kemet, and I’d like to see them for myself.”
Nofery scowled at the boy who, along with the lion, had been given to her by a Kushite king. “How would we live, Amonaya? My place of business is here.”
“After Hori leaves, I’ll have no one to teach me to read and write.”
“How many times have you told me you hate those les-sons he gives you? How many times have you vanished when you know he’s coming?”
He stared down at the lion, his face sullen. “It’s a game we play, that’s all.”
“A game. Ha!”
Bak leaned forward and patted a plump knee hidden beneath the long white sheath Nofery wore. “There are many houses of pleasure in Kemet, old woman. You could trade this one off to a man of Buhen and get another in Mennufer.”
“Start over again? A woman old and alone, as I am?”
Blinking hard, she turned her face away.
Bak had an idea she was crying. He sorrowed for her, but was at the same time pleased that her indifference had been a sham. “You’d not be alone. You’d have me and my men, Nebwa and his wife, and if the gods smile upon us, Imsiba and Sitamon as well.” He glanced at Nebwa, a silent plea for help, but the troop captain, who could never cope with tears, looked more at a loss than Bak as to how to convince her.
“Anyway, I can’t let you walk free and clear, with no further obligation. I’ll still need your services as my spy.”
Rather than pacify her, as he had hoped, the gentle teasing further upset her. Sobs burst forth, her shoulders shook with misery. “Spy! How could I be your spy in a city as large as Mennufer? Where I’d lose my way at every turn of a lane?
Where I’d know no one? Where I’d hear no secrets to pass on?”
“You’ll learn, as I will, and Nebwa, and Imsiba-if he chooses to come with us.”
“Imsiba has so chosen.” A small, delicate woman with shoulder length dark hair, stepped through the door, brightening the courtyard with a radiant smile.
The big Medjay, following close behind, slipped an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Sitamon is not as fond of Buhen as we are. After dancing around the truth, unwilling to hurt my feelings, she admitted as much.” He gave her a fond smile. “As for her business, she hopes to trade her ship in Abu for a bigger, newer vessel to ply the waters of Kemet.”
Bak let out a secret sigh of relief, but had second thoughts. “I for one would miss you greatly if we had to part,” he admitted, “but are you sure this is what you want?”
Nebwa looked as doubtful as Bak felt. “You’d give up the chance to reach a higher rank and become a leader of men?”
“Commandant Thuty will see that we get our due-
sooner or later.” Imsiba grinned suddenly at the two officers.
“Your friendship, the needs of the woman I love, and the men who look to us for leadership are more important to me by far than standing at the head of a group of strangers.”
Bak caught his friend by the shoulders and he swallowed hard to clear the emotion from his throat. “If you’re sure this is what you want, I’ll bend a knee before the lord Amon for months to come. I feared I’d bid you good-bye and never see you again.”
As he stepped back, making way for Nebwa, sobs shook Nofery’s heavy body.
Sitamon, quick to understand, knelt before the old woman and clasped her hands. “You must come with us, Nofery.
You must trade away your place of business and move to Mennufer, as I intend to do.”
“I’ve the boy, the lion, the women who toil for me. I’ve furniture, dishes, jars of wine I’d hate to leave behind.
This chair. So many objects, so many people to move.
How can I?”
“Lest you haven’t noticed, Nofery, my ship has a large deck. Plenty of room for all of us and all we hold dear.”
Nofery leaned forward and encircled the younger woman with her arms. Her tears continued to flow, trickling around a tremulous but broad smile that told them how much she had come to love them, how touched she was that they cared for her.
Chapter Two
“You’ve heard nothing from Amonked?” Hori asked.
Laughing, Bak ran his fingers under his belt, wet through with sweat although the day was young. While dwelling in B
uhen, he had imagined Kemet to be cooler, and he supposed it was. But he had found his homeland during this, the hottest time of the year, to be no less uncomfortable than the southern frontier. “I didn’t send off my message until late yesterday, after we moored at the harbor in Waset.”
The young scribe hoisted himself onto the mudbrick wall that surrounded the paddock where Bak’s chariot horses were kept. The animals, two fine black steeds named Defender and Victory, were grazing at the edge of an irrigation ditch. Bits of greenery peeked up through dry and brittle grass and weeds badly in need of the floodwaters soon to swell over the thirsty land. Brown geese waded in a muddy puddle beside the mudbrick watering trough, while several ducks nibbled grain strewn before the door of a shed at the far end of the paddock. Outside the wall, several goats and two donkeys nibbled a mound of hay on the floor of a lean-to. Beyond, a small herd of cattle, sheep, and goats grazed on the dry stubble of a neighbor’s field. The young girl who watched the animals was playing with her dog, making it bark.
“What did your mother and father think when you ran off so early this morning?” Bak asked.
Hori shrugged. “I told them I was to meet Kasaya here, which was the truth.”
“You’re both free to go your own way until we travel north to Mennufer. How many times have I told you so?”
Bak gave the youth a stern look. “You’ve been gone for many months. Your parents surely want to spend time with you.”
Unable or unwilling to meet Bak’s eyes, the youth stared at his right foot, which he was bouncing against the wall.
“I’ve reached my sixteenth year, yet they treat me as a child.
You don’t.”
Recalling his first time home from the army and the way he had been treated by his father’s housekeeper, the only mother he had ever known, Bak could not help but sympa-thize. How would she behave now, he wondered, if she were here? After so long an absence, would she revert to the past and baby him as she had before, or would she recognize his maturity? He must wait to find out. She had traveled to Ipu to tend to her daughter during childbirth.