“I know where you are going,” Tetisheri interposed huskily. “The god’s work has begun but is not yet completed, and before it is, there will be only one King left. Ahmose.” She rose to her feet determinedly. “But the prophetic utterance has not been set into the fabric of time, Amunmose, and my whole being revolts against the presumption that His Majesty will die before old age carries him into the Judgement Hall. Supposing the work of the god will not be done until the very last foreigner is expelled from our soil? That could be long after Het-Uart has fallen and Apepa executed. Besides, what if the last King is Ahmose-onkh?”
“That would make four Kings,” Amunmose reminded her. “We are clutching at straws here, Majesty. Perhaps my interpretation is faulty?” She sighed.
“No, I do not think so. But I refuse to believe that Kamose will not sit on the Horus Throne here in Weset once it has been snatched back from that upstart Apepa. The god will not be angry if we try to draw out the sentence of fate; therefore, I will command a doubling of guards upon Kamose and set a watch upon his food and drink.”
“He may succumb to the prophecy in battle.”
“He may.” She waved an impatient hand at the sacks and chests piled all around her. “I am no longer interested in examining the treasure,” she said. “Tell me, Amunmose, have you noticed any changes in my grandson since he returned?” His eyes narrowed and met hers shrewdly.
“Majesty, you and I have been partners in the service of the god and the furtherance of the Tao destiny since I came to the temple as a we’eb priest,” he reminded her. “You would not ask me that question unless there were grounds for a positive answer. I am His Majesty’s faithful servant and my first loyalty goes to him, but if I thought he had become other than what he is, I would let you know.” He shrugged. “His Majesty seemed a trifle brusque and very preoccupied. That is all.”
“Thank you. Please keep the oracle’s saying to yourself, Amunmose. Kamose must not have his confidence undermined by the added weight of an impending doom to which he might not succumb for hentis. I will see you on the twenty-second of this month for the celebration of the Feast of the Great Manifestation of Osiris.” Acknowledging his obeisance, she left him, walking quickly back to her litter with Isis holding the sunshade above her.
This is cruel, she thought furiously, as her litter jolted on its way back to the house. This is not acceptable, Amun, this is no way to repay my grandson’s devotion to Egypt. He has emptied himself, he has suffered, and you reward him with the promise that he will be dead before you reign over a purified country. I do not like you today. Not at all. So she fumed, fists clenched in her lap so that she should not feel the deeper emotions, pain and fear, until she was ready to let them consume her.
She did not re-enter the house. Sending Isis with a message to Uni to keep back her midday meal, she ordered her bearers to continue on behind the gardens, beyond the servants’ quarters and the granaries, to where the Followers of His Majesty were billeted. Here the élite guards of the King had comfortable barracks fronting their own small pond and lawn and their commander, Prince Ankhmahor, occupied a detached cell of three large rooms. Tetisheri walked straight in, startling the scribe seated on a mat on the floor, scrolls piled around him. Laying aside his palette, he scrambled up and bowed to her hastily. “Majesty,” he stammered. “It is an honour. The Prince is not here.”
“So I see,” Tetisheri said tartly. “Go and find him. I will wait.” He bowed again and Tetisheri was pleased to see that he gathered up the scrolls and placed them in their box before backing out of the room. Doubtless he had been copying information regarding the Followers for storage in the archives. Such information was not forbidden to her, but protocol required her to demand it from the commander, who would have been angry with his servant if he knew that the man had left it lying under unauthorized eyes, even those of Tetisheri herself.
She found a chair and sat facing the open door, listening to the strident blend of birdsong in the trees outside, until the light beyond was cut off and Ankhmahor strode in. He shook the dust from his sandals, then reverenced her politely, and she looked into his face with a lightening of her heart. “It is good to see you, Ankhmahor,” she said. “I was glad when I heard that my grandson had appointed you Commander of the Followers. I knew your mother. She was an estimable woman.” He smiled, standing easily before her, the wings of his blue-and-white striped helmet framing features that exuded the calm sobriety Kamose trusted.
“Your Majesty is gracious,” he replied. “How may I serve you?” He did not apologize for being absent when she arrived, and she was secretly pleased. Any hint of obsequiousness made her irritable. She straightened her spine and with it came an interior tautening.
“I want you to tell me how Kamose seems to you,” she began. “I will be honest with you, Prince. I am worried about him. Since he came home, he has been withdrawn and when he does speak his words are bitter and sometimes even unbalanced.” She paused and then plunged on, quelling the spurt of disloyalty she felt. “I love my grandson and the state of his health is vital to me, but there is more at stake here than Kamose’s mental condition. Is he fit to remain in charge of the army?” The question was out now, hanging in the air like a condemnation. Tetisheri felt herself diminished by it, as though some of her omnipotence had been sucked from her with the utterance, and she was suddenly very thirsty. Ankhmahor’s eyebrows had shot up, and without being invited to do so he settled himself on the edge of the desk.
“I think that under any other circumstances in the fortunes of our country I would have to say no,” he said frankly. “His Majesty has swept north with a ruthlessness and brutality that has horrified many. Egypt is almost a wasteland, but it is the action of a purge, planned and executed out of necessity, not cruelty. Such an action on the part of a King ruling a free and stable Egypt merely being threatened by, say, an incursion from the desert tribes, would be seen as madness. It is to your grandson’s high credit that the uncompromising nature of his deeds has resulted in personal suffering. He has felt every sword thrust into Egyptian flesh and that pain has increased his hatred of the Setiu for compelling him both to do these things and to feel them so deeply.” He glanced at her thoughtfully. “There is also his need to revenge his father’s death and his brother’s suicide. He is being tempered in the very fire he has lit, Majesty. It may consume him in the end, but not before he has completed the task. He has my total allegiance.”
“How do the other Princes regard him?” Ankhmahor smiled slowly.
“At first they were terrified that he might succeed,” he told her. “Even though they had pledged to him, they wanted to be spared a lot of bloodshed and inconvenience. Later they went in awe of him for what he accomplished and for his harshness.” Awe, Tetisheri repeated to herself. Awe. Yes.
“And now?” she prodded him. “What of Hor-Aha?” His gaze became speculative.
“You are a Queen of surprising intuition,” he said softly. “I had heard of the pride and intractability of the Tao women, but not of their masculine turn of mind. I mean you no disrespect, Majesty.”
“I am not offended. We share an ancient lineage, Ankhmahor. Well?”
“The Princes do not like the General. They are jealous of what they see as his hold upon His Majesty. They resent being under his command.”
“And Ahmose agrees with them.”
Ankhmahor sighed. “His Highness is a man of great perception, moderate in his views and his speech. He shares his brother’s affection for Hor-Aha and acknowledges his skill in matters of warfare, but he is not blind to the danger of the situation. His Majesty is. Loyalty has become the only creed by which he judges.”
Tetisheri’s thirst had intensified. She swallowed with difficulty. “Can Kamose hold them together?” she asked bluntly.
“I believe so, as long as he continues to give them victory. If the siege goes badly next season, they will blame the General. If His Majesty defends him, there will be trouble. But I do no
t like to enter the world of ‘ifs.’”
“I do not like to either, but I must,” Tetisheri said. “I want you to increase the guard you put on him, Ankhmahor.”
“May I ask why?” Again she hesitated, and it came to her that she trusted this man as she had trusted her husband, without reservation. The knowledge spread through her like a balm.
“Because this morning Amunmose told me that the omens for Kamose were bad,” she said flatly. “There has been an unfavourable oracle. I am not really afraid of an attack on his person while he is here, but it is well to take every precaution.” She rose clumsily, her joints stiff. “Thank you for your candour, Prince. I do not require reports from you, indeed that might be construed as an invasion of your responsibilities.” She smiled. “Look after him.” She moved to the door and turned to receive his obeisance.
“He is a great man, worthy to wear the Double Crown, Majesty,” he said. “I pray that he will be remembered with love.”
I doubt it, Tetisheri thought, as she hurried towards the house. His mighty aim to free Egypt, the baiting of this family by Apepa, Seqenenra’s bravery and our desperation, it will all disappear. Only my grandson’s remorselessness will remain. Few men in ages to come will know enough to testify on his behalf.
Once back in her own quarters, Tetisheri sent Isis to fetch her meal. “But first,” she ordered, “bring me beer or I shall faint.” When it came, she drank deeply and gratefully before demolishing the food her servant had set before her. The conversation with Ankhmahor, distressing though it had been, had somehow comforted her, and in the increasing torpor of a blazing afternoon she took to her couch and slept without moving.
After her exchange with Ankhmahor, Tetisheri felt more settled in her mind. She agreed with the Prince that Kamose’s reason, though threatened, would not collapse, and with that assurance she turned her attention to making sure that the healing of his interior wounds was not hindered by any physical want. Mindful of the oracle’s words, she quietly reminded Akhtoy that His Majesty’s food and drink must always be tasted, and she made sure that the finest and most varied selection of meats, dried fruits and vegetables was set before him.
With a deliberate calculation she decided that a female in his bed would bring him a healthful forgetfulness and accordingly she summoned Senehat, made her disrobe, examined her carefully, ordered Isis to wash, shave and perfume her, and sent her to Kamose’s quarters, after reminding her that no law in Egypt could compel her to comply with her mistress’s wishes in this matter and if she chose to decline the honour of sharing the King’s couch someone else would be eager to accept. Senehat complied, but soon returned to Tetisheri in tears. “I did nothing wrong!” she wailed. “But His Majesty would not have me! He sent me away! I am ashamed!”
“What for, you stupid girl?” Tetisheri said, not unkindly. “Be off to your cell and do not let your tongue waggle about this or I will cut it out.” Senehat retreated sniffling, and in the morning Kamose requested admittance to his grandmother’s domain. He kissed her but then stood back.
“I presume that it was you who sent Senehat to me, Tetisheri,” he said. “I am not ungrateful. I know how you fret over my welfare. But I am not interested in a sexual encounter, and even if I was I would choose someone more to my liking than a little servant, no matter how attractive she may be.”
“Then who is more to your liking?” Tetisheri asked him unrepentantly. He laughed, one of the few times she had seen his face relax into lines of mirth since his return, but then a curious expression, part sadness, part longing, filled his eyes.
“No one I have ever met,” he answered simply. “Not all men who sleep alone are fanatics or aberrants, Grandmother. I am perhaps close to the one but definitely not the other. Please stop trying to manipulate me.” He kissed her again and abruptly departed, leaving her disgruntled and puzzled.
In the weeks that followed both she and a worried Aahotep continued to watch him closely. His nature had always been a solitary one and he continued to prefer his own company, although he appeared regularly at the family’s feasts and performed the social duties relevant to his position as head of the household and Prince of Weset with faultless grace. There was a coldness about him, however, that did not abate, and when he was not engaged in necessary conversation, his face became like a closed door behind which he hid his true character.
He had rounded up those peasants who had not been conscripted into the army and put them to work on the construction of his prison out on the desert behind the city, and he could often be seen standing just out of reach of the dust stirred up by the swarms of toiling men, Behek lying in the shadow cast by his body and his guard beside him.
Only in the temple did he seem to melt, become fluid, his supple young spine bending easily in prostration to his god, his knees flexing as he went to the floor before the wide double doors of the sanctuary. The priest who measured the rising of the Nile calculated its full height that year as fourteen cubits, a magnificent outpouring of Isis’s tears, and the seven days of the Amun-feast of Hapi, god of the waters, that marked the middle of the month of Paophi, was a time of riotous celebration. Kamose remained in the temple for the full week, sleeping in a priest’s cell and joining Amunmose and the other priests in every ritual. It was as though proximity to the god offered him a peace he could not find outside the holy precinct, Tetisheri mused to Aahotep, as each day they met under a canopy in the garden or in the seclusion of Tetisheri’s shrouded bedchamber to share their anxiety. Somehow his demons are quietened in the presence of the god. He does not seem to be as driven as he was. There is flesh on his bones and his eyes are now clear. He speaks to me as affectionately as he used to do, yet there is now a place inside him that is completely inaccessible to everyone, including me. And I do not like the way he will sometimes sit and shiver and complain that he is chilled. He develops no outward illness. It is all inside him, in his soul, this icy darkness.
It seemed to her that her whole world had shrunk to the dimensions of Kamose’s mysterious ka. Nothing but Kamose filled her mind, no matter who she was with, but she knew that on such occasions her tongue spoke safely of other things. Aahotep’s cousin Nefer-Sakharu was spending less time with Ahmose-onkh as her grief began to subside, and under the pretext of allowing the woman to find peace in the retelling of her husband’s execution, Tetisheri was able to gain a clear picture of the events surrounding the sack of Khemmenu and the taking of Nefrusi. Doubtless Ankhmahor would have described other clashes if she had asked him to, but she felt that she had already stretched the limits of his loyalty to his King, and besides, she recognized the urge as an invitation to spawn a preoccupation as dangerous as her grandson’s.
News continued to arrive from the troops wintering in the north. Sometimes the information was from Ramose, but more often than not it was Hor-Aha who filled the papyrus with his dictation on the current state of the army. He always included respectful greetings to Tetisheri, who began to wonder if his words did not smack of a sycophantish insincerity. He was, after all, just a tribesman with a genius for military planning and the days of Seqenenra’s desperate campaign were long gone. Was Hor-Aha’s position going to his head? Kamose should not have made him an hereditary lord, Tetisheri decided. It would have been better to leave him a General and set one of the other Princes over him in a purely honorary capacity.
The month of Athyr began, always a time of boredom for Tetisheri, although the heat began to abate. Egypt had become a vast lake dotted with the upper halves of drowned palm trees. The fields lay under sheets of silvery water. The only building project was Kamose’s prison, an ugly thing, on which the peasants laboured when they were not sitting outside their huts gazing over their inaccessible arouras and calculating the amount of seed they would broadcast when the flood receded. Aahotep was presiding over the annual taking of inventory in the house. Even the temple was quiet. There were few festivals to relieve the interminable hours.
Ahmose was happy, howe
ver. Each morning he took his guards and his skiff, his throwing stick and his fishing gear, and disappeared into the marshes, to return in the late afternoon muddy and flushed, and fling his dead booty at the servants waiting to transform the limp ducks and gaping fish into that night’s fare. Aahmes-nefertari went with him sometimes, but as Athyr drew to a tedious close she goodnaturedly avowed that she could no longer keep up with him, preferring to spend her mornings in her mother’s company or playing board games with Raa.
On the evening of the last day of Athyr, when the family had eaten together and Tetisheri had retired to her quarters, she was surprised to learn that Ahmose was outside her door requesting admittance. Isis had just finished washing the cosmetics from her face and the henna from her hands and feet and was combing her hair. Tetisheri’s first impulse was to send him away until the morning when she might greet him fully painted, but she quashed the vanity of the thought and told Uni to let him come.
“Forgive me, Grandmother, I know it’s late,” he said as he crossed the tiled floor and came to a halt, bowing politely. “I wanted a few uninterrupted minutes with you. I have been selfish with my days, trying to crowd a year’s worth of hunting into these few months, and I have already been taken to task over it by my mother.” He smiled ruefully. “Even Aahmes-nefertari reminded me that I have not been giving my family the attention it deserves.”
“I am not in the least offended by your absences, Ahmose,” Tetisheri replied. “We see one another every evening at dinner. Your leisure time is yours to use as you see fit and as long as you have been doing your duty by your wife I will not complain. You do, however, choose an odd time to be remembering your obligation to me.” She waved Isis away and indicated the chair beside her couch. “You may sit.”
“Thank you.” He dragged the chair closer to where she was perched on the stool before her cosmetic table and collapsed into it with a gusty sigh. “To tell you the truth, I am becoming surfeited with killing wild things. Aahmes-nefertari says that I am growing up. She teases me.”
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