He met no one living on the way. He was in too much of a hurry to stop and inspect the corpses lying at regular intervals, but it was obvious that all the household guards had been murdered. Why did they not resist? he wondered fleetingly, and the answer came at once. Because they knew their attackers. And where are the servants? Have they run away? Are they dead on their mats in the servants’ quarters? Gods, this silence is unnerving. Panting, he slowed outside Ahmose’s rooms. One man sat with his back against the wall, his sword in his hand. He was wide awake. Coming to his feet, he saluted Kamose who approached him warily. “You are still alive,” Kamose blurted breathlessly. The man’s eyebrows rose under the rim of his leather helmet.
“Majesty, I was tired but I have never yet fallen asleep on duty, “ he answered apologetically, obviously misunderstanding Kamose’s cryptic words. “My watch is due to change soon. I am sorry for sitting down.” Kamose wanted to shake him.
“Not that, you fool!” he hissed. “Who else has been here?” The soldier’s gaze travelled down Kamose and came to rest on his bare feet. Instantly he tensed. Kamose looked down. The result of the carnage was spattered halfway up his calves. “Your fellows are dead,” Kamose said curtly. “I have run through their blood. Did anyone ask admittance to my brother’s quarters this night?” He dreaded the reply.
“One of your officers with two infantrymen came a little while ago, wanting to speak to the Prince,” the Follower said, his struggle to overcome his bewilderment clear on his face. “But the Prince is not within. He left earlier to go fishing. Dawn is not far away, Majesty. They did not ask to see the Princess. They went away again.” Kamose felt his bowels loosen in relief.
“Come with me,” he ordered, and pushed the door open.
Ahmose and his wife inhabited a suite larger than Kamose’s own, a concession to their married status. The small ante-room into which Kamose entered glowed peacefully in the light of one lamp. The two farther doors, one to the nursery and one to the bedchamber, were closed. At the sound of his coming Raa got up from her pallet by the nursery door and Sit-Hathor, Aahmes-nefertari’s body servant, peered up at him from hers. Both women had come to their feet by the time he had closed the door behind himself and the soldier. “Raa, wake your mistress and then dress the children,” he commanded. “Sit-Hathor, I want you to go to Ramose’s room. He is to arm himself and find Prince Ankhmahor. Do you understand?” She nodded at him, her eyes huge in the yellow light. “There are many bodies in the halls,” he went on more gently. “You should put on your sandals. Can you be brave?” Again she nodded. “Tell Ramose we are betrayed and in danger. I will be at the watersteps to intercept my brother. At once, Sit-Hathor!” She had bent and picked up her sandals but had stood staring at him wildly. Now she came to herself and began to quickly tie them on. Raa had disappeared into the bedchamber and as Sit-Hathor let herself out into the passage Aahmes-nefertari emerged, swathed in a sheet and blinking drowsily. Behind her Raa went into the nursery.
“Whatever is the matter, Kamose?” his sister enquired sleepily. Kamose waited, watching her until her features cleared and her gaze became sharp, flicking over him. “You are naked and I think that is blood on your legs,” she said. “The Princes have revolted, haven’t they? Ahmose went fishing. He said he would take Behek with him. Is he safe?”
“I don’t know, but my conclusion is the same as yours. If I hadn’t slept on the floor last night I would be dead. They will keep trying, they must know that they have shown their hand, and very soon they will remember that Ahmose-onkh is also a Tao and they will come back here to eliminate him. He must survive, Aahmes-nefertari. Otherwise there will be no King left in Egypt.” Beyond the nursery door he could hear the baby begin to cry and Ahmose-onkh protesting over the sound of the nurse’s firm, soothing voice. “You must take the children and go out onto the desert,” Kamose went on. “This soldier will accompany you. There is no time for argument!” he half-shouted at her as she opened her mouth to object. “I came here straight from my own quarters! I have no clear idea of what is happening anywhere else! Get dressed and do as you are told!” For answer she whirled and vanished into her room and Kamose waited, impatience whipping him. Raa came out carrying Hent-ta-Hent in one arm and grasping Ahmose-onkh’s hand with the other. “Hungry,” the boy said petulantly. Kamose turned to the soldier.
“Take them straight out through the servants’ entrance at the rear,” he said. “Pick up any food and drink you find in the kitchens on the way. Go as far into the desert as they can manage, and hide them until night. Then work your way to Amun’s temple. Stay with them at all times.” You hold the future of Egypt in your hands, he wanted to add. Your life is worth nothing compared to theirs. Can you be trusted? He bit his tongue, knowing that he had no choice but to rely on this man’s loyalty and it was pointless to cause him affront. Aahmes-nefertari had slammed her door and was walking towards him, holding out a kilt.
“I am clothed as you ordered,” she said. “Put this on, Kamose. It is one of Ahmose’s. But I am not going with the children. Ahmose will need me here. So will Mother and Grandmother.” He wanted to sweep her up and throw her out into the passage, to rage at her in his haste and fear, but he knew by the glint of obstinacy in her eyes that it would do no good. He did not bother to argue. Laying his weapons aside he wrapped the kilt around himself.
“Highness …” Raa put in anxiously. Aahmes-nefertari went to her and firmly pushed her at the door.
“This Follower will look after you,” she said. “Just do as he says.” Kamose signalled the man.
“Carry the Prince. Keep him out of the blood,” he ordered. “Pray as you go. Hurry!” The soldier lifted Ahmose-onkh as though he were a scrap of linen, and the room emptied. Kamose did not wait. He picked up his weapons. “Tell Tetisheri and Aahotep what I know,” he said as he headed for the door. “Stay with them. Don’t let them wander about. If soldiers come, lie to them.” On impulse he paused, and striding back into the room he once more laid aside the sword and knife and enfolded his sister in his arms. “I love you. I am so sorry,” he whispered illogically. She held him tightly, fiercely, before letting him go.
“Find Ahmose and fight them, Kamose,” she whispered back. “Make them pay. For if you do not, then I shall have to kill them all by myself.” It was a poor attempt at humour but it cheered him nonetheless, and he was calmer by the time they stepped into the still-deserted passage and parted.
Keeping to the shadows, Kamose stole through the house, nerves taut, expecting the enemy to step out in front of him at any moment. Swiftly he explored the dusky expanse of the reception hall and found it empty. So were the other public rooms. Not until he came out under the entrance pillars was there life. Two soldiers rose from their stools by the high double doors and reverenced him promptly and with a gush of relief Kamose recognized them as members of his Followers. They were as ignorant of events as the man on Ahmose’s door and Kamose wasted no time in questioning them. “Take up your station outside the women’s quarters,” he ordered them. “Let no one in unless it is the Noble Ramose or your superior, Prince Ankhmahor.” He did not wait to see them go. Veering left he set off towards the path leading to the watersteps.
But suddenly he paused and with a groan put his hands on his knees and bent over them. A dilemma had presented itself, diabolical and horrifying in its simplicity. Like the soldiers, Ahmose might not know what had befallen the house. He was out there somewhere on the river, sitting contentedly in his skiff with a fishing line dangling in the water and Behek sniffing the night air beside him. There was a strong possibility that the assassins, whoever they were, had not bothered to look for him. They would wait until he returned. Kamose scanned the sky, already suffused with a hint of the dawn to come. A single bird had begun to pipe its morning salute to Ra’s majestic rising and to Kamose’s feverish eye the silhouette of the tree trunks around him seemed already clearer.
If he continued on to the Nile, he might be able to intercept
his brother. However, if Aahmes-nefertari and his own suspicions were correct and this was a revolt, the Princes would take their officers and make their way straight to the barracks where the local soldiers slept. Before his own officers had rubbed the night from their eyes the army would be under hostile control, all three thousand men, and he would be completely powerless. I might as well stand here and offer my neck meekly to the knife, he thought bitterly. Either I speed to the barracks in the faint hope that I get there before the Princes, thus almost certainly sacrificing Ahmose to the arrows of those who must surely be lying in wait for him but quashing this rebellion, or I try to intercept him, save his life, and lose a kingdom.
But he may already be dead, the voice of self-preservation murmured. You do not know anything, not really. You are making assumptions that could end your life on the chance that Ahmose is not already floating on the surface of the river with his throat cut. At least in heading for the barracks you are attempting to protect the women and restore your supremacy. Go back, circle the house, run for the barracks. Not finding you or Ahmose may have made them hesitate, confused them. They may only now be approaching the parade ground. The gods have given you an opportunity to live and emerge triumphant from this chaos. All you have to do is turn around. After all, Ahmose might stay on the river to toss his throwing stick at a few ducks before he comes home. By then it could all be over.
Amun, help me, Kamose pleaded as he stood frozen and trembling with indecision. I do not know what to do. Either way I choose is a way of death. Do I try to warn Ahmose, a laughably slim chance at best, or do I try to rouse my officers who are probably already under the threat of the Princes’ swords? Do not forget Ramose and Ankhmahor. What if Ramose found the Prince and together they had the same thoughts as I? What if they chose to go to the barracks? Ankhmahor is well known to my soldiers. Or perhaps, perhaps they have crossed the river to alert Hor-Aha and the Medjay. That is what I ought to have done with the soldiers at the house entrance. What was I thinking of? You were not thinking at all, he berated himself. Your mind was weak with fears for the safety of your women when only quick and resolute action will suffice.
You have a third option, another voice broke in, softer, more seductive than the other. You could join the children out on the desert, guide them to the temple, claim sanctuary from Amunmose. After all, Ahmose-onkh is a legitimate heir to divinity, is he not? If Ahmose is already dead and your hours are numbered, the boy is all that is left of Tao supremacy. You know for certain that he at least is still alive. For one blinding second everything in Kamose assented to this plan. His spine straightened. His glance took in the rapidly growing grey light that heralded the imminent lifting of the sun above the eastern horizon. But then he began to smile. I may be a fool, he admitted to himself, but I am not a coward. I am my father’s son. Our great dream is finished, but others in years to come will remember it and take it up again. Ahmose-onkh perhaps. Who can say? This is all wavering plumes of smoke, Kamose, and you cannot see the fire. Your duty is to ignore it for the sake of your kin, not try to put it out. He took a step towards the river path. It was the hardest thing that he had ever done, but the second was easier. In the strengthening dawn he crept across the grass.
He had expected to find soldiers concealed in the shrubbery close to the watersteps, but though he searched the undergrowth on both sides of the path, and lying prone behind a bush he scanned the placid stone stair lapped slowly by the river, he saw no one. They already have control of the army then, he thought dismally. They can arrest and kill us at their leisure. Retreating, he positioned himself under the vine trellis, pressing himself into the rough, dark grape leaves where he could not be seen from the house, and gave himself up to his wait.
The dawn chorus was now in full spate, a tuneful stridency of bird voices joined, Kamose knew, by the Hymn of Praise even now being sung in the temple. Of course he could not hear it, but he imagined the words and the rich, time-honoured melody with which the priests greeted the birth of Ra. Every morning his rising was sanctified in a burst of gratitude for life, for sanity, for the ordered beauty of Ma’at. Kamose allowed himself a moment of surrender to the scent of the spring flowers beginning to waft to him on the first stirring of the breeze and the grainy kiss of the vine leaves fluttering against his skin. His shadow was beginning to appear on the pebbled path, stretching pale and elongated towards the river. A lizard scuttled over it, tail flicking, its tiny, delicate claws scrabbling inaudibly, and vanished into the unkempt lawn. The light around Kamose flushed suddenly gold and he knew that Ra had lipped the edge of the world.
With a tremor of hope he was beginning to think that Ahmose had indeed decided to stay on the water and hunt ducks, but he heard the sound of oars breaking the water and his brother’s voice, loud and cheerful. Someone answered him. Wood creaked and footsteps thudded. Behek barked. Kamose left the shelter of the trellis and broke into a run.
There were two guards with Ahmose. One had jumped onto a submerged waterstep and was tying up the skiff. The other had already gained the stone paving and was glancing about automatically as he had been trained to do. Ahmose himself was clambering after him, a cluster of silver fish threaded on a string clutched in one hand and his sandals in the other. Gaining dry land, he dropped the sandals and began to manœuvre his feet into them, laughing as he did so. All this Kamose saw and noted with a preternatural clarity. The rim of his brother’s white kilt had become limp and transparent with water and clung to his brown thighs. The fish glinted wetly, their scales reflecting pink and a delicate blue in the new sunlight. A sodden Behek was eyeing them hungrily. Ahmose had a streak of drying mud on his cheek. He was wearing one plain gold bracelet, thin and loose, that fell against his thumb as he reached down to ease the thong of the sandal between his toes. Both guards were beside him now, one going down on one knee to tie Ahmose’s sandals.
Kamose was almost upon them. Then Ahmose looked up and saw him coming. “What are you doing up so early, Kamose?” he called brightly. “Are you taking a swim? See how many fish I caught this morning! I think I will have them fried at once, for I am lamentably hungry!” Lifting the limp bundle he shook it, grinning. Behek’s attention, now diverted from the fish, turned to his master. His ears pricked and he began to bark.
At that moment Kamose felt himself struck in the left side. It was as though he had been punched, and he staggered, pitching forward. Regaining his balance, he thought that he had stumbled on, and it was a few seconds before he realized that he was not moving towards Ahmose after all, that he had stumbled and fallen, that his face was pressed to the gritty surface of the path and power had suddenly gone from his limbs. He tried to push against the ground but his palms simply patted the earth. Why is Ahmose shouting? he wondered irritably. Why doesn’t one of the guards come and help me up? He felt the vibration of pounding feet and with a great effort he managed to turn his head. Two pairs of feet rushed by him. He heard grunting, a curse and a scream.
Then someone touched him, lifting and settling him, and with the movement pain exploded under his armpit, down his side, along his back. Stifling his own scream, he looked up through eyes blurred with tears of agony. He was cradled across his brother’s lap, his neck supported in the crook of Ahmose’s arm, his own fingers clinging to Ahmose’s other hand. “You have been shot, Kamose. What has happened here? What has happened?” Ahmose’s voice cried the words but they came from a far distance for surely he, Kamose, was running and Ahmose was holding up his fish and smiling and it was a bird or perhaps a lizard who had spoken. Kamose could not breathe. There was a lump in his chest. Something was stuck in his throat and when he opened his mouth it slipped out, hot and wet.
“The Princes,” he whispered. “Ahmose, the Princes.”
“Yes, you are right,” he murmured. She. He was mistaken. It was not Ahmose who was holding him it was the woman, and now he knew that he was only dreaming and he would wake to find himself curled up on his floor before his Amun shrine and a
ll would be well.
“Your face,” he said wonderingly. “I see your face at last and it is flawless in its perfection. I love you, love you. I have always loved only you.”
“I know,” she replied. “You have served me with great faithfulness, Kamose Tao, and I love you also. But now it is time for us to part.” Bending down she kissed him softly. Her lips tasted of palm wine and her hair, falling about his face, filled his nostrils with the scent of the lotus. When she withdrew he saw that her mouth and teeth were smeared with blood.
“I do not like this dream,” he faltered. “Hold me tighter. Do not let me slip.” She smiled.
“I will enfold you forever, my dearest brother,” she said quietly. “Your flesh will rest deep within my rock, and as long as the waters of my river flow and the wind of my deserts trouble the sand and the fronds of my palm trees drop their fruit, they will sing your worship. Go now. Go. Ma’at awaits you in the Judgement Hall and I promise that your heart will lie so lightly on the scales that her Feather will weigh heavier than gold.”
“Please …” he choked. “Oh please …” his mouth still tingling with her kiss, but it was Ahmose who loomed above him, his mouth dark red, his features contorted.
“Gods, Kamose, don’t die!” he begged, but Kamose, looking beyond him to where the sky was darkening and a mighty pylon had begun to take shape, could not answer. Things moved within that gloom, a glimmer of sumptuous metal, a glint of light caught by one kohled eye, but between him and the vision a human shadow loomed. He tried to call to his brother, to warn him, but he was too tired. Half-closing his eyes he saw the shadow shrink, its arm come up, the gloved hand brandishing a wooden club, and then he was standing on the threshold of the Judgement Hall and such small details did not matter any more.
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