The Way of the Seed_Earth Spawn of Kalpeon

by Richard Dean Hall

  Later, as the fiery heat of the desert sun burned down on the dead, wounded, and dying, more than ten thousand surviving Mitanni soldiers sat cross-legged on the ground, awaiting their fate. Completely encircling their captives, the Remeth soldiers awaited the final order from Horemheb. Would the survivors be executed, or tethered together and taken back as slaves? Horemheb spoke to his runners, who scurried off to deliver his decision to the officers.

  Several more moments passed when Horemheb’s standard-bearer raised a pennant, signaling the troops to execute his order. Huddled in silence, the surviving Mitanni soldiers exchanged fearful glances. Then, as the pennant fluttered in the hot desert wind, the officer of the lead chariot slapped his reins and guided his chariot out and away from the Mitanni survivors. He pushed the horses to a fast trot as the other chariots fell in behind. In a few moments, all the chariots were streaming out and forming up back to the city. As the chariots snaked along, the infantry broke their encirclement around the seated Mitanni soldiers and formed up behind the chariots.

  Horemheb waited until all the foot soldiers were moving away, and then ordered his driver to advance to where the Mitanni survivors sat. The chariot stopped. The only sounds were the moans of the wounded rising in the simmering heat. Horemheb gazed out over the defeated soldiers and then spoke loud enough for all of them to hear.

  “Your lives are spared, and you may return to your land. When you do, tell any others what you saw here and what awaits any who bring war to Misr and the armies of Tutankhamun.”

  And they did.

  74

  The invading Mitanni army had been, by far, the most aggressive force of all the lands to the north. With its defeat, the security and peace of the land was secured. Horemheb’s victorious return to Thebes was celebrated with a triumphant procession and a three-day celebration throughout all the major cities and towns along the river. Realizing the magnitude and impact of Horemheb’s victory, the young king honored him with a befitting title. It was one that would be worthy of his stature and prominence among the nobility, the priests, and most importantly, the people.

  On the third day of the celebration, the vizier to the king read the proclamation to the royal court and the title of Lord of the Land as Hereditary Price was bestowed on the general. The wording and meaning of the title was immediately understood by those assembled: Horemheb was now the second most powerful person in the land. While Tutankhamun ruled as the dynastic king and deistic incarnation of Amun, the highest god in the pantheon, Horemheb was the secular force that kept the peace and defeated the foreign invaders. But the title given to Horemheb was not bestowed just to honor him. The king had another reason for elevating the general to a position of power second only to himself.

  Tutankhamun’s wife, Queen Ankhesenamun, had conceived twice, but both daughters had been stillborn. It was doubtful she would ever deliver an heir. If he should die without an heir, a power struggle and perhaps violent conflict might break out among the nobility. By proclaiming Horemheb Hereditary Prince, the young king made it clear that should he die, Horemheb would ascend the throne. With the power of the military behind him, no one would challenge his role as the new king. By positioning Horemheb as his successor, Tutankhamun felt he was fulfilling his first responsibility as king and would further maintain maat—the peace, harmony, and balance of the land and people.

  The nobility of his intentions would resound in a way he could not ever imagine.

  The day the bows were to be delivered, Ott, Cha, Graf, and Yaan rose before dawn and met at a large building where the horses were stabled and the chariots stored and maintained. When on a trading mission, they traveled to the capital by boat and navigated the canals to the trading docks, but there would be no trading on this visit. They looked forward to traveling by chariot. It had taken over a year to construct the chariots, but when they had been delivered, everyone had viewed them with admiration. The craftsmanship was exquisite, and rolling the chariots across the land with the horses at full gallop was exhilarating.

  Outside the stable in a low-walled corral, the chariots were readied for the trip to Thebes. The stable hands were giving a final check to the harnesses and bridle fittings. Ott approached and circled the chariots. He stood between the two-horse teams and swept his gaze over the front of the chariots. When he had commissioned them, he had made one special request, and although the craftsmen had no idea of the significance, they had executed the request flawlessly. In the center of the dark, polished wood cowling enclosing the front of each chariot, a solid-gold lemniscate glinted in the morning sunlight. Directly above each of the symbols, three red, polished glass orbs sparkled.

  With Ott and Graf at the reins, Cha and Yaan stepped into the chariots. Ott gave a final check to the bindings holding the bow case, and with a nod to Graf, slapped the reins. Well fed, freshly watered, and young, the horses bolted forward and lurched to a full gallop. Ott had traveled the overland route to the city many times and understood the horses’ temperament. They were high-spirited animals, and as they surged forward, he gave them their heads, letting them gallop to burn off pent-up energy.

  The wide, ancient roadway ran through fertile delta, lush with greenery. Off to the side, Cha clutched the handrail. With the wind rustling through her hair, she broke a smile. Ott let the team gallop a few moments before reining them in to a steady trot.

  As they approached the outskirts of the city, the traffic thickened with loaded donkey carts, people on foot, and camels loaded with goods for barter. Ott was becoming annoyed by the pace and growing uncomfortable in the rising dust and heat of the afternoon. He looked for an opening in the foliage that lined the sides of the roadway, and soon spotted what he was looking for. He guided the horses off the road and into the land that ran down to the river.

  The sand-and-soil surface was softer than the hard-packed road bed, but the horses were strong and agile. They maneuvered through the palms and brush, and in less than an hour, the low walls of the front of the city appeared in the distance beyond a short, open stretch of land. Ott led the way across the open area and slowed his team to a walk as they approached a wide opening in the low wall that announced the entrance. Flanking the entrance were two twenty-foot-tall stone sphinxes of Aker, the lion-headed god of protection. Inside the wall, Ott and Graf guided the chariots to a limestone watering trough. As the horses dropped their heads to the water, Ott peered out over the city.

  The city girdled the entire east bank of the Nile and sprawled in all directions. As far as Ott could see, structures of all sizes, including huge administrative buildings, monuments, towering pointed obelisks, and temples to the gods, jutted out of a sea of green vegetation and brown sand. All were painted with vivid depictions of beautiful landscapes, wild animals, notable royalty, and likenesses of the gods. Like the structures, all the statuary was finished in brightly painted detail. The entire city was a riot of color backwashed, highlighted, and shadowed by thousands of towering palms and carefully tended ornamental gardens.

  With more than a hundred thousand inhabitants and hundreds of trading parties arriving and departing daily, Thebes was the largest and most sophisticated city in the world. Yet with all the constant activity, there was a prevailing sense of peace. When that peace was combined with harmony and beauty, the kingdom was said to be in balance. The presence of that balance was known as maat, and maintaining it was the single most important aspect of rule to King Tutankhamun. Living in the vast kingdom of the Remeth, Ott had come to understand and respect the way of life known as maat.

  Now, as he looked out over the grandeur and beauty around him, he wondered: Was maat what Barjeen had meant as “the way”?

  75

  They spent the better part of the day guiding the horses along the roads adjacent to the hundreds of navigable waterways and canals that crisscrossed the city. By late afternoon, with the sun angling behind them, they approached a wide, palm-lined corridor that led to the royal grounds and the palace at the edge of
the river. The entrance to the royal corridor was announced by another pair of lion-headed sphinxes, identical to but larger than those at the front of the city.

  As the chariots approached the entrance, a group of sentries carrying bronze-tipped spears stepped from the side and blocked the passage. Ott and Graf pulled the teams to a halt as the leader stepped forward and asked their reason for traveling to the palace. Ott reached into his pouch, retrieved a parchment scroll given to him by Horemheb, and handed it to the officer, who eyed it for a moment then pointed down the corridor and waved them forward. They settled the horses to a comfortable gait, and a short while later the open expanses at the sides of the road gave way to the realm of the royalty of the land.

  The palace complex was a city unto itself. They reached an elevated section of roadway and, with the royal complex in full view, pulled the horses to a stop. The massive sprawl was a sea of green washed by sunlight that sliced through a seemingly endless canopy of thousands upon thousands of soaring palms. In stunning contrast to their natural color and beauty, polished stone and white-plastered buildings surrounded by pools and gardens could be seen in all directions. After a few moments, Ott nodded to Graf and they rolled farther into the complex, where they were again greeted by sentries. Ott once again produced the tablet, and they were waved forward on the final leg of the road to the palace. As soon as they rolled past the sentries, the sound of the chariot wheels became sharper and the horses’ hooves pounded with a distinct clatter. Ott looked down at the roadway. It was constructed of solid granite blocks.

  The horses clattered over the granite roadway at a steady trot as chariots and mounted horsemen passed by in the opposite direction. As they approached the palace, they looked out to a sandy plain as a formation of over a hundred war chariots maneuvered in a training exercise. The chariots wheeled with speed, agility, and precision. They were the most respected of all the Egyptian military forces: the elite Maryannu chariot corps.

  At the end of the granite road, they came to a wide-open area, the palace looming beyond in befitting splendor to the surrounding statuary and beautifully tended gardens and pools. They pulled the horses to a stop in front of a forty-foot span of polished granite steps leading to a gigantic portico backed by monolithic columns that extended down each side of the palace as far as they could see. At the center of the portico, another massive colonnade stretched into the vast interior. Mesmerized by the sheer size, Ott and the others stared as hundreds of soldiers, priests, and workers moved around the open exterior.

  Three men emerged from the side of the huge entrance, climbed down the steps, and stepped toward the chariots. They each wore a finely crafted black leather tunic over a long linen shirt that extended to just above the knees. The man in the middle wore a gold breastplate fashioned with the head of a lion in low relief. Ott eyed them carefully as they approached. Palace guards or officers, he thought, as the men stopped in front of his chariot. The man wearing the breastplate greeted Ott and informed him the other two men would tend to the chariots. He instructed everyone to follow him.

  Ott unlashed the presentation case, and with Cha at his side stepped down. Graf and Yaan did the same, and they followed the officer up the steps, across the open portico, and into the royal palace.

  76

  The interior was a maze of fifty-foot-high columns. From open areas in the roof, sunlight streamed down, illuminating granite panels and walls painted with depictions of the gods, animals, and panoramic landscapes. Large plants and palms in waist-high pots danced shadows in the constant breeze blowing in from the river. The sweet fragrance of lotus flowers floated on the breeze. Everywhere priests in soft robes and palace attendants moved about in the eerie mix of shadows, filtered light, and colors.

  Ott, Cha, Graf, and Yaan followed the officer through a series of twists and turns leading deep into the interior, finally stopping at a palm-flanked entrance.

  The officer pointed through the opening. “Your quarters.”

  As he turned and strode away, Cha, Graf, and Yaan followed Ott through the wide entrance. The interior was bathed in sunlight streaming through an opening in the high ceiling. Wide stone benches protruded from the side walls, and in the center of the room, a pool of scented water shimmered with a scattering of lotus flowers floating on the surface. Large potted palms and ferns added soft contrast to the polished stone construction, and the walls were painted with colorful depictions of palms, geese, and the ubiquitous gods. At the far rear of the room, two entranceways led to sleeping chambers with raised stone slabs topped with linen sleeping pads stuffed tight with goose down.

  Ott stepped to a large table constructed with palm-trunk legs topped with woven papyrus. On the table sat baskets and trays of fruits and freshly baked wheat bread. Nestled in the middle of the food stood a large, glazed pot surrounded by several cups. Ott sniffed at the pot. It was filled with barley beer. With a smile, he grabbed a cup and dipped it into the frothy head of the beer. He lifted the cup to his face and sniffed the heady aroma. It brought back ancient memories of Antakya and a man named Ilker. He took a long gulp and turned back to the pool, where Graf stood waist deep in the water with his elbows on the ledge.

  At the other end of the pool, a naked Cha and Yaan laughed, splashing down the submerged steps while swishing the lotus flowers. Smiling, Ott handed everyone a cup, placed the brew pot at the edge of the pool, and stripped off his clothes.

  Cha waded to the center of the pool and submerged her head in the refreshing coolness. Invigorated, she stood back up in the waist-deep water. She studied a wall for a moment. As Ott handed her a cup of the brew, she waved her hand at the paintings.

  “Their gods are everywhere.” She pointed to more paintings on the opposite wall.

  Ott gazed over the paintings and looked back to Cha. “Yes, their gods are everywhere,” he motioned with his cup to the paintings, “and nowhere at all.”

  No one spoke. It wasn’t necessary—they knew each other’s thoughts too well. Ott stroked a finger over the lemniscate on his palm. The gods he knew were real.

  Clean and refreshed, they dried with linen towels and dressed in fine linen tunics they found on their beds. Everything was provided for their comfort.

  Ott was sipping another cup of brew when the officer wearing the gold breastplate appeared at the entrance. “General Horemheb welcomes and awaits you,” he said, gesturing toward the wide corridor.

  They followed the officer far down the corridor, passing numerous intersecting passages that afforded glimpses of other huge interior halls and rooms. Everywhere were more statues, wall paintings, and hundreds of tended palms and plants.

  Approaching the far end of the towering colonnade, the shadowy interior brightened and the incoming breeze carried the pungent fragrance of the river. They stepped out onto a wide plaza that extended down both sides and across to a waist-high wall shaded by a fluttering canopy. Below the wall, the river stretched to the distant bank and flowed to the north. The overlook was washed in shadowed sunlight streaming through the lacy canopy of hundreds of towering palms sprouting from openings in the stone surface of the plaza. Everywhere large, brightly painted stone planters and lily-choked pools added to the color and cooled the open expanse.

  Clutching the linen-shrouded bow case beneath his arm, Ott and the others followed the officer across the plaza. Military officers in leather kilts and sleeveless tunics sat at tables, chatting and sipping from glazed cups as men and women of nobility strolled about and leaned against the wall, looking out over the river. The four approached a wide opening in the wall that gave way to wide steps leading down the riverbank to a huge granite dock. Moored there was a massive, flat barge topped with a wooden roof. The area beneath the roof was partially enclosed by multiple panels of framed linen rippling in the breeze. A waist-high railing ringed the vessel.

  They followed the officer down the steps, crossed the dock, and walked onto the vessel. Proceeding to the front entrance of the enclosed area, the of
ficer announced himself and motioned Ott and the others through.

  As they entered, Horemheb rose from where he had been talking with several officers. “Welcome, Otteri,” he said, acknowledging them with a sweeping wave of his hand. The eri suffix was an expression to recognize individuals who were not Remeth, but held in high regard.

  “We are honored to be here,” Ott responded as Horemheb eyed the shrouded case under his arm.

  “You have completed the bows?” Horemheb flicked a finger toward the case.

  “The gift is complete,” Ott tapped the case, “and we hope you find it worthy and to your satisfaction.”

  “That we shall see.” Horemheb pointed to a large table.

  Ott placed the case on the table, and a small crowd of officers drew near. They were of the elite Maryannu chariot corps and owned what they considered to be the finest bows in the land. Word of the commission had spread, and they were skeptical that anyone could produce bows as fine as the ones they possessed. The entire proceeding drew to dead silence as Ott untied the strips securing the shroud, slowly pulling it off.

  With the case exposed, the silence was broken by a low murmur. Horemheb gaped. The case exceeded all his expectations. He ran his fingers over the gilding, tooled leather, and glittering faience. When finished, he stood in silence and watched as Ott released the gold clasps. Another murmur rippled through the gathering. Horemheb stared at the contents for a long moment before gingerly removing one of the bows. He positioned it to his front and brushed his palm over the entire length, taking in every detail. He turned a quizzical gaze to Ott, studying him as he had the bow. This wealthy merchant was easily the most skilled bowyer in the entire land. How could such a young man have perfected such skills without even being a bowyer by trade?