The Oasis

by Pauline Gedge

  “I cannot say, Your Majesty.”

  “How long does he intend to keep them there?”

  “I cannot say.”

  “How many soldiers are under his command at the oasis?” Ramose deliberately shifted from one foot to the other.

  “Your Majesty,” he said in a low voice. “My orders were to deliver my Lord’s message to you. That was all. I am not permitted to do more than that.”

  “And yet you expect me to allow you to speak to the Princess Tani? Oh yes, she lives,” Apepa said impatiently, seeing Ramose’s expression. “You expect this in return for—what? Dutifully delivering the crudest, most abusive missive I have ever seen?” His voice rose. “I am supposed to thank you and then fulsomely offer you your heart’s desire as payment for such blasphemy? How cloddish are you, son of Teti? What secret contempt do you harbour for me, how disdainfully do you regard my intellect?” His hand came down on the map with a ringing slap. “You may thank the gods that you stand here alive today instead of being tossed headless onto one of Het-Uart’s piles of offal! Answer my questions!” Ramose, listening carefully to the emotions behind the tirade of words, knew without a doubt that insecurity was there, and uncertainty, and a tinge of fear. Apepa had known nothing of the force at the oasis before yesterday. His complacency was shaken. He trusted the word of his herald Yamusa, yet he did not want the information brought to him to be true. It must be corroborated before he would believe. Ramose grinned to himself in spite of the peril of his position.

  “I beg your forgiveness, Munificent One,” he said softly, humbly. “But I have confidence in the honour that you, as the living embodiment of Ma’at, personify. I appeal to that honour. I have discharged my responsibility to my Lord. Therefore, let me return to him unsullied by any betrayal.”

  “Your mouth is filthy with a secret sarcasm.” Apepa leaned across the table. “You do not believe that I am the living embodiment of Ma’at. You do not worship me as your King. Your adoration goes to the upstart son of a petty southern noble whose delusions of godhead amount to sheer presumptuous insanity. Look what he has done to you, Ramose! Killed your father, stolen your inheritance, smashed your future, and then magnanimously allowed, ALLOWED you to end up here where your life itself can be taken from you. And you call this man your friend? Your Lord?” He raised his hands in a gesture of mystified exasperation. “Look around you. At the immensity of my palace, the wealth of my courtiers, the size and strength of my city. This is Egypt! This is reality! Now will you talk to me?”

  He had the gift of persuasion. Ruefully Ramose acknowledged it, as the power of Apepa’s argument tried to insinuate itself under his guard. The King was no amateur at the art of subtle enticement. He was inviting Ramose to see himself as a poor deluded provincial following an equally foolish provincial dreamer, and indeed Ramose had to consciously remind himself that the whole of the country from Weset to Het-Uart now belonged to the Taos, and no matter how mighty Het-Uart and this palace appeared to be, it was Apepa and his shrinking area of influence that was the mirage, not Kamose. “I am sorry, Majesty,” he said diffidently. “Your words may be true, but I am honourably bound to do only what I was commanded. Your herald has surely told you everything you wish to know.”

  “If that were so, I would not be asking you!” Apepa snapped. “And let me remind you that according to your own account you pressed for this assignment in the secret hope that in carrying out your orders you might fulfil your own small purpose. Did Kamose know of it?” Ramose shook his head, lying easily.

  “No.”

  “Then you are not as scrupulous as you like to pretend.” He was quiet for a few seconds, his kohled eyes roaming Ramose’s face speculatively, then he leaned back and beckoned Yamusa, whispering something in the man’s ear. Yamusa nodded once, bowed, and strode from the room. Apepa returned his attention to Ramose. “The question is this,” he went on conversationally. “Is your desire to see the Princess greater than the correct discharging of your duty? I rather think it might be.” Ramose took a step forward.

  “Majesty,” he began, injecting a note of desperation into his voice, “I do not think that I can tell you anything more regarding the oasis than your herald. He was there, he saw everything! You do not need me! Give me a sight of Tani, I beg you, and then let me go!”

  Apepa smiled. The vizier smiled. Suddenly all of them were smiling, and with a leap of his heart Ramose knew that he was about to win. At the expense of his reputation in the sight of these men, but win nevertheless. He hoped that he looked suitably agonized. “He did not see everything,” Apepa objected. “And even if he did, there are many things I want to know that he could not possibly tell me. How many Princes Kamose has suborned, for instance. Whether or not he has been negotiating with the Kushites. Whether or not he has left troops at Weset.” All at once he sat down and laid his arms across the map, giving Ramose a direct look. “You may have a sight of the Princess if you give me one piece of information,” he said. “How long have those troops been settled at Uah-ta-Meh?” Ramose swallowed noisily, ostentatiously.

  “Majesty, you swear?”

  “I swear by the beard of Sutekh.”

  “I suppose such information can do no harm, seeing that it pertains to what is past,” Ramose said haltingly. “Very well. Kamose sent them to the oasis after the last campaigning season. Then he went home to Weset.”

  “Thank you. Kethuna, take him through to the reception hall.”

  The atmosphere in the room had changed. Ramose knew it even as the General was rising and coming around the table. The eyes on him held contempt as well as relief. Bodies had loosened. There was whispering and fidgeting. Apepa’s son lifted one of the flagons and poured himself wine while he passed some casual remark to his father.

  Only Pezedkhu did not move. He sat twisting the silver ring on his brown finger, his head on one side, his gaze full of a cool assessment. He does not trust my little act, Ramose thought as he turned to follow Kethuna. He senses the insincerity behind it. He judges well. All I can pray is that he interprets insincerity as weakness.

  Kethuna led him back the way he had come, into the huge hall and up onto the Throne dais, bringing him to a stop just behind the row of soldiers. Between two brawny shoulders Ramose could look out upon a wide and pleasant garden. Fruit trees rained their white and pink blossoms onto the green lawns. The taller sycamores cast patches of shade under which groups of courtiers, mostly women, sat or lay in a bright disorder of cloaks, cushions and board games. Directly ahead at the end of one of the many paths criss-crossing the expanse a large pool glittered in direct sunlight, its surface clotted with lily pads and the pale spears of white lotus blooms. “We will not have long to wait,” Kethuna said. “She always walks in the gardens after the noon meal, before she takes to her couch to sleep the afternoon away. See! There is the vizier! He is looking for her.”

  Wildly Ramose cast his eyes this way and that. So many women out there, he thought incoherently, so many colours, faces, yet I will know her the moment I see her. Tani! I am here! Suddenly he spotted Peremuah with his blue-and-white staff, parading slowly among the chattering butterflies, pausing to speak to this one or that. He was bowed to as he went. Twice Ramose saw a braceleted arm raised to point a direction. Then the vizier glided out of sight. Ramose found himself clutching his kilt with both hands. He could hardly breathe.

  Peremuah reappeared, and this time he was walking beside a slight figure swathed in a multi-hued cloak whose tassels spread out on the ground behind her as she moved. Her hair crowned her small head in tiers of dark curls wound with yellow ribbons and a fillet of gold spangled across her high forehead. More gold wrapped her ankles and glinted on her wrists as she gesticulated to the man beside her. Her face was turned away but it was Tani, Tani in the lively gait, Tani in the tilt of her head, Tani in the well-remembered fanning of the quick fingers.

  Peremuah touched her elbow, bringing her to a halt directly in front of the open reception hall. He ste
pped to one side, forcing her to shift her body as he spoke to her, and at last Ramose could drink in the face whose delineaments were scored into his heart. She was fully painted, the generous, laughing mouth red with henna, the eyelids green and sparkling with gold dust, the black kohl accentuating her large, fine eyes. At nearly eighteen years old she was no longer a wiry child beginning to bud. Maturity had widened her hips and swelled her breasts, given her a portion of the dignity and regality of her mother, but in her quick movements and unselfconscious laughter she was still the girl who had sat beside him and slipped her arm through his, squinting across at him in the white sunlight, inviting lips parted over strong young teeth.

  Why are you laughing, Tani? Ramose cried out dumbly. I love you, love you still, love you always, my own laughter has been tinged with this grief ever since Apepa took you away. Is your mirth a dutiful deceit, like mine? I am here. Can you not feel my presence? I could call to you from these mighty pillars. Would you recognize my voice? As if reading his loud thought, Kethuna put a warning hand on his arm, and at that moment Peremuah bowed to Tani and walked briskly away. Ramose saw her wave impatiently behind her and a flock of attendants came into view, following her as she strolled out of his sight. One of them was Heket, a servant Ramose vaguely remembered from his visits to the estate in Weset.

  Something about Tani’s imperious gesture and the response of the servants made Ramose apprehensive as he trod the echoing hall after Kethuna’s sturdy back, but he did his best to quell it before facing Apepa’s searching glance. He needed his wits about him to play out the next scene in this critical drama, but for a few blinding minutes he was lost in the overwhelming force of a dream brought intensely to life. He did not have to fabricate his distress and confusion as once more he approached the table.

  This time Apepa invited him to sit, and as he did so he realized that he was bathed in sweat. “Well, son of Teti,” Apepa said smoothly. “What do you think?”

  “She is incomparably beautiful,” Ramose replied huskily.

  “Yes, she is, and still full of the fire of her southern deserts. She has become very popular with my courtiers.” He was watching Ramose carefully. “Would you like to speak with her?” Oh gods, Ramose thought despairingly. I do not have to be an actor any more. I do not have to hide. Even if I had indeed come to Het-Uart with Kamose’s stern warning not to reveal anything to the enemy, I would be ready to forfeit my honour right now. He licked his dry lips.

  “On what terms?” he croaked.

  “No terms,” Apepa said emphatically. “You answer every question I or my generals put to you. When I am satisfied that you have been emptied of all information, I will arrange for you to see Tani alone and uninterrupted. Are you agreed?” Emptied. The word rang hollow in Ramose’s mind. Emptied. Empty me then as Kamose wished, for I have become nothing but a shell holding love for Tani and the means of your downfall, vile Setiu. Everything else has gone. He did not need to prolong the moment before he conceded but he let it draw out so that Apepa could see a struggle on his face. Then he gave in, lowering his head and letting his shoulders slump as he did so.

  “I am agreed,” he said. At once Apepa tapped a gong and Nehmen entered.

  “Have food brought, something hot,” Apepa ordered. “Afterwards keep everyone away from this door.” He crooked a finger at Ramose. “Come close and look at this map,” he ordered. “Itju, are you ready to take down the words?” From the floor where he still sat the scribe assented. “Good,” Apepa continued. “Now, Ramose, how many soldiers are at the oasis?” Ramose got up and went to stand beside him.

  “Kamose has forty thousand troops there,” he lied.

  “Under whose command? Which Princes?”

  “Under his Wawat General Hor-Aha, and beneath him are the Princes Intef, Iasen, Mesehti, Makhu and Ankhmahor.”

  “I remember the Wawat General.” The deep voice belonged to Pezedkhu. “He fought for Seqenenra at Qes. He has Medjay archers under his black thumb. Where are the Medjay, Ramose?”

  “Kamose took them to Weset with him during the Inundation,” Ramose answered. “They returned north with him and now they have joined with the navy at Het nefer Apu.”

  “We know of the troops at Het nefer Apu,” Pezedkhu went on thoughtfully. “So Kamose is trying to train a navy, is he? Under whom?”

  “Paheri and Baba Abana of Nekheb.” Ramose watched the General’s finger trace the track from Het nefer Apu across the desert to Uah-ta-Meh.

  “What are Kamose’s plans for these forty thousand men?” Apepa asked.

  “Another siege, Majesty,” Ramose told him glibly. “He intends to join them with the forces at Het nefer Apu and surround Het-Uart again but this time with boats full of fighting sailors as well as infantry. He believes he will succeed this year if he can use the boats to fill the canals around the city.” Apepa laughed without humour.

  “The fool! Het-Uart is impregnable. It cannot be successfully sieged. Why did he send them to the oasis in the first place?”

  “To keep them a secret from you,” Ramose said promptly. “It would have required an enormous effort to take them to Weset and bring them back when the river receded. Besides, they are still a rabble. Hor-Aha needed a winter and plenty of space to continue their training.”

  “It is already Phamenoth,” Pezedkhu said. “We are two months into the campaign season. Why has Kamose not moved?” Ramose met those perceptive eyes steadily.

  “Because the men are not quite ready and because the Princes have been quarrelling,” he said flatly. “They resent Hor-Aha. Each wants precedence over him. When Kamose arrived, he had to put down a small mutiny.” Apepa exclaimed in satisfaction but Pezedkhu’s expression did not change.

  “You are suddenly very free with your information, Ramose,” he almost whispered. Ramose drew back.

  “I have betrayed my Lord for the sake of a woman,” he said simply. “What use is there in fastidiousness now? I have already ensured my ka an unfavourable weighing in the Judgement Hall of Osiris.”

  “That depends on whose cause is just,” Apepa said impatiently. “I wonder how much longer Kamose will stay where he is.” He glanced at Pezedkhu, and Ramose saw the gleam of speculation in his eyes. Pezedkhu shook his head.

  “No, my King.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I do not trust this man.” He pointed at Ramose.

  “Neither do I, but Yamusa’s testimony agrees with what we have heard. Kamose is there. His army is there. The oasis is indefensible, wide open. In eleven days we could fall upon Kamose with twice the number of troops he has, and wipe him out.”

  “No!” Pezedkhu had risen. “Listen to me, Mighty Bull. Here in the city you are safe. Your thousands of soldiers are safe. Kamose can be defeated without any risk. As long as we sit here patiently and let him exhaust himself with siege after fruitless siege we are sure to regain Egypt in the end. Do not be swayed by this temptation!” For answer Apepa’s finger slashed at the map.

  “From the Delta to Ta-she, six days. From there to the oasis, another four. Think of it, Pezedkhu. In two weeks victory could be mine. What is the risk? Only slightly greater than no risk at all. Fall on the oasis, slaughter the rabble, then march another four days and take the troops at Het nefer Apu by surprise.”

  “Water, Majesty.”

  “But there is water at Ta-she, water at the oasis, water in the Nile.”

  “And supposing Kamose is waiting for us? Fresh and rested while we have marched from Ta-she four days across that accursed waste?”

  “We could overwhelm him with numbers alone.” Apepa sat back. “Even if Ramose is lying regarding the count of men and Yamusa’s eyes deceived him, we have enough soldiers to predict the successful outcome of any engagement. The gods have sent us a precious opportunity. In the oasis we would face Kamose in pitched battle with a distinct advantage and we would win.”

  “This recklessness is not like you, Majesty,” Pezedkhu protested. Apepa had opened his mouth
to reply when Nehmen entered, coming across the room with a train of laden servants behind him. Quickly and efficiently they placed the trays of steaming dishes on the table, removed the used cups, filled bowls with scented water and laid linen beside them, before bowing themselves out. Apepa gestured.

  “You may eat also, Ramose,” he said. Ramose was not hungry in spite of his meagre breakfast, but he did not want to appear arrogant. He picked politely at the food.

  “How well armed are Kamose’s troops?” Kethuna asked. He was scooping out the flesh of a pomegranate, the gelid red seeds heaped on his spoon.

  “They began with whatever weapons Kamose had to hand,” Ramose told him. “Later, as they plundered the garrisons and the forts, they acquired axes, swords, bows, and the chariots and horses they found at Nefrusi and Nagta-Hert. My Lord’s problem has always been teaching his peasants to use what they took. Only the Medjay and Kamose’s Weset soldiers needed no time for that.” He did not elaborate, knowing that the listeners would remember the reasons he had given them for the army’s long sojourn in the oasis.

  “What are the brothers like?” The question came from Apepa’s son. Ramose, thinking rapidly, decided to tell the truth.

  “My Lord Kamose is a harsh but fair man. He likes to be alone. He is brave. He hates you Setiu for what you have done to his father and what you have tried to do to his family and he wants revenge. He will not stop until he gets it or dies in the attempt. He is loyal to those who give him loyalty in return. His brother is more subdued. He is a thinker. He sees farther than Kamose.”

  “He is more dangerous then,” Pezedkhu interposed and Ramose thought with a shock, why yes, I suppose he is. He stands in Kamose’s shadow. Most of the time he is barely noticed, yet his presence is always felt.