The Oasis

by Pauline Gedge

  17

  AAHMES-NEFERTARI was terrified. As she sped through the dim corridors of the house, she tried not to see the things that huddled in the shadows, the dead things, but sometimes they lay spreadeagled across her path and she was forced to jump over them. In a mad attempt to remain uncontaminated by the carnage she lifted the hem of her sheath so that it would not brush the blood-soaked corpses but she could not always avoid the puddles and soon her feet and ankles were sodden. Somehow that did not matter as much as the possibility of soiled linen, the wetness that she would feel as a weight, the stains that could not be washed away.

  At the entrance to the women’s quarters the two guards lay one on top of the other as though they were embracing. With a shudder the girl rushed past them. The passage beyond was blessedly empty and she felt a quick spurt of relief that the stewards, Uni and Kares, always retired for the night to their own rooms in the servants’ lodgings and were probably safe. One torch still burned opposite her mother’s door. Aahmes-nefertari fell into Aahotep’s bedchamber. Her servant rose immediately and Aahotep sat up. “Mother, get dressed at once and come to Grandmother’s rooms,” Aahmes-nefertari said. Not waiting to see if she had been heard she went out, ran the short distance to Tetisheri’s apartments, and let herself in.

  Tetisheri had a large anteroom in which she gave audience to guests and to which she retired to read or think whenever she needed privacy. It was a large, well-appointed space, purposely daunting in the formality of its furnishings. Many times Aahmes-nefertari had been summoned here to be reprimanded, to recite her lessons, or to receive lectures on how a Princess ought to think and behave. Here her grandmother kept a firm thumb on the organization of the house and here in past months the three women had gathered to discuss the responsibilities Kamose had laid upon them. Those consultations had done much to dispel the inner shrinking Aahmes-nefertari had always felt when the door had swung open to admit her but even now, in a moment of extreme urgency, she experienced a flutter of purely adolescent apprehension. It soon vanished, however, when Isis left her pallet with a polite indignation written on her sleepy face. “I did not hear you knock, Highness,” she said. For answer Aahmes-nefertari took up a taper, and lighting it from the one burning lamp she used it to ignite the two larger standing lamps by the far wall.

  “Wake my grandmother, tell her I am here, and dress her quickly,” she ordered. “Do not question me, Isis. Just hurry.” The servant disappeared through the door leading to Tetisheri’s inner sanctuary and Aahmes-nefertari, left alone in the deep silence that precedes the dawn, began to shiver. Her feet had left dark brown prints across the spotless floor. Looking down at herself she saw the drying blood encrusted between her toes and girdling her ankles like grotesque jewellery. Repulsed she glanced about for water, but then she paused. They died because of their loyalty, she thought. Their blood does not sully me. To wash it away too soon would be insulting to their sacrifice.

  There were sounds outside in the passage and her heart leaped into her throat but it was only her mother. Aahotep was tying a belt around the waist of her blue sheath as she came. Her movements were as measured and graceful as ever but her eyes darted anxiously over her daughter, coming to rest on the girl’s besmirched feet. “That is blood!” she said loudly. “Is it from you? Are you ill? Where are the children? Where is Kamose? Is he here? You have made a mess of the floor, Aahmes-nefertari. You should be washed at once.” Aahmes-nefertari did not respond. Her mother would assimilate the shock in a moment, she knew, and indeed Aahotep’s clouded face was already clearing. “Gods,” she breathed. “What has happened?” Just then Tetisheri emerged into the lamplight, her grey hair awry, her expression fierce.

  “I was dreaming of fresh figs and a ring I lost many years ago,” she said. “There may be some connection between the two but now I shall never know. What are you doing here?” She stared at her granddaughter’s feet for what seemed to be a long time, then she slowly folded her arms. To Aahmes-nefertari the gesture was one of self-protection. “Are you hurt?” she asked. The girl shook her head. “Then speak quickly. Isis, close the door.”

  “No!” Aahmes-nefertari put out a hand. “No, Grandmother. We need to hear if someone is coming. There has been a revolt, how serious we do not know. All the Followers in the house are dead. Kamose sent Raa out into the desert with the children. He has gone to the watersteps to waylay Ahmose when he returns from fishing. Oh thank the gods he went fishing!” Her voice rose, quivering, and she fought to control it. “Kamose told me to stay here with you. We think it is the Princes.”

  “How can that be?” Tetisheri demanded. “Intef, Meketra and Iasen are in prison.”

  “Someone must have let them out,” Aahotep said. “Nefer-Sakharu perhaps.”

  “Simontu and his jailers would never be overpowered by a woman alone,” Aahmes-nefertari objected, “and Nefer-Sakharu does not have the authority to order the cells unlocked. Their officers and soldiers have attacked the prison and freed them.”

  “Then where are they?” Aahotep wondered, and Aahmes-nefertari answered her with a mouth gone suddenly dry.

  “They are at the barracks taking command of our troops,” she rasped. “They must establish control of our men before we can intervene and that may not be as difficult as we might suppose, seeing that their soldiers have been mingling freely with ours and the officers of the Princes have been giving gifts and regaling our soldiers with feasts. Our forces are superior to the ones they brought with them, but our officers will feel a certain confusion of obligation if faced with direct orders from nobles who have been more than kind to them. I believe that the Princes sent a small contingent here to the house to kill Kamose and Ahmose while they themselves gathered their soldiers and took over the barracks. But Amun decreed that my brothers should be spared.” Tetisheri was running a bony hand through her dishevelled hair. She had begun to pace. She seemed calm but Aahmes-nefertari saw her arm trembling.

  “For how long?” she said loudly. “The Followers are dead. Ahmose will arrive at the watersteps all unsuspecting, provided that soldiers were not despatched to ambush him on his way home, in which case he is already dead. Kamose is completely undefended. What of Ramose and Ankhmahor? Can we get word to Hor-Aha and the Medjay on the west bank?”

  “I don’t know,” Aahmes-nefertari admitted, and Aahotep gave an exclamation of frustration.

  “Isis, go and see if the Lady Nefer-Sakharu is still on her couch,” she ordered. “But go quietly. If she is there, do not wake her.”

  “Majesty, I am scared,” the servant said, glancing at her mistress. Tetisheri waved at her.

  “It is not far, only along the passage,” she retorted. “Hurry up!” Unwillingly the woman left the room and there was a tense silence.

  “If what we have surmised is true, Kamose is entirely alone,” Aahotep said at last. “There is no one to help him. No one to save him or Ahmose. I cannot believe that everything he has done has come to this!” she burst out passionately. “Nothing but heartache and betrayal year after year and for what? We might as well have gone meekly to the fate Apepa had prepared for us in the first place. I cannot bear the thought that he will win after all!”

  “We must do something,” Tetisheri urged. “Does Kamose really expect the three of us to cower here until Intef or Meketra comes blustering in to gloat?” Aahotep spread out her hands.

  “What can we do?” she protested angrily. “Be reasonable, Tetisheri. Words will not keep my sons alive.”

  “You speak as though they are already defeated,” the old woman snapped back. “But what do we really know? Nothing except that the Followers are dead and Kamose has gone to the watersteps. The rest is supposition. We must ascertain the truth.” At that moment Isis returned, visibly pale. “Well?” Tetisheri asked.

  “The Lady Nefer-Sakharu is not in her room,” the servant told them. “Neither is Senehat.”

  “Senehat will be in Ramose’s quarters,” Aahotep said tiredly. “Or woul
d be if all was well. Do you have any suggestions, Tetisheri?”

  “I do,” Aahmes-nefertari said faintly. She had been listening to the heated exchange between her mother and grandmother with little attention, her own mind racing furiously. There was indeed something to be tried, but everything in her cringed from its audacity. I am only a wife and mother, she said to herself in despair. If I stay here in Grandmother’s apartments the Princes will spare me as such, but if I interfere in whatever is going on out there, I will be killed. Then what of my children? I do not have the courage for this. Yet even as she felt her bowels turn to water at the thought, she was giving it voice. “I have spent much time out on the parade ground watching the men go through their paces and talking to the officers,” she went on more steadily. “They seem to have a respect for me. Let me put it to the test. I am of the ruling house. If the officers see me, hear me, they will be more inclined to obey me than any of the Princes.” She paused and gulped, reaching for the support of a nearby chairback. “If the gods are with me, the soldiers will not know that their King and his brother have been rendered impotent or even killed. They will fear retribution. I can undo any damage the Princes may have done out there if I am swift enough. If I am too late …” She shrugged with what she hoped might be seen as indifference. “… then the worst they can do is arrest me and drag me back here.”

  The two other women stared at her, Tetisheri with eyes narrowed in speculation, Aahotep with her usual inscrutable gaze. Then Aahotep sighed.

  “If anyone dares this, it should be me,” she said. “My authority carries more weight than yours, Aahmes-nefertari.” But Tetisheri stepped forward eagerly.

  “No, Aahmes-nefertari is right,” she said. “The soldiers know her. They are used to seeing her on the dais with Ahmose-onkh. Let her go, Aahotep. It is a good plan.” Aahmes-nefertari felt a spasm of violent resentment as she looked into her grandmother’s face. You really are a ruthless woman, she thought. Your concern is not for my safety. All you care about is a chance to protect the unique place the family holds in Egypt. If I can do that, it does not matter to you whether I live or die in the trying.

  “After all, Grandmother,” she could not resist saying aloud, “the Taos do have another son to rule if my husband and Kamose die. That is your only preoccupation, is it not?” She turned to her mother. “Have I your permission to go, Aahotep?” White to the lips, Aahotep nodded.

  “I see no alternative and there is no time to come up with one,” she said, her voice breaking. “I have no intention of waiting here and going mad either, Aahmes-nefertari. I will go to the watersteps, and if they are not guarded, I will cross the river to Hor-Aha.” She opened her arms and her daughter stepped into her embrace. They held each other tightly until Aahotep broke away. “Take weapons with you,” she said. Aahmes-nefertari walked to the door and out into the passage beyond. It took all the courage she possessed to turn towards the rear of the house, but breathing a prayer to Amun and keeping her mind full of her husband’s genial face, she found it easier than she had imagined.

  Aahotep prepared to follow her. “If Nefer-Sakharu is foolish enough to return to her rooms, she must be detained here,” she said to her mother-in-law. “Can you do that, Tetisheri?” The older woman pursed her lips.

  “Not by the force of this aging carcase,” she replied hoarsely. “I can attempt to browbeat her, but if she chooses to leave again I will not be able to stop her. But dawn comes, Aahotep. Uni will have left his couch in the servants’ quarters. I can only pray that he is unmolested and will reach the house. He can restrain Nefer-Sakharu.” There was nothing else to say. Aahotep hesitated, a dozen conjectures running through her mind. Resisting the urge to discuss them and thus put off the moment when she would have to abandon the illusory safety of the women’s wing, she summoned a brief smile and slipped out, closing the door behind her.

  The corridor was no longer sunk in darkness. A grey predawn light suffused it, strengthening even as she went swiftly towards the main entrance of the house, bringing the disorderly sprawl of bodies from the realm of nightmare into the dreary focus of reality. A slight chill came with it and Aahotep shivered. She was not afraid of the dead. Nor did she allow her imagination to present her with images of ghosts newly created hovering in the rapidly dissolving shadows. It was terror for her sons that quickened her pulse and kept her gaze high. Anger uncurled in her like some tiny black worm, an emotion that had secretly plagued her from time to time ever since her husband had come home to her in a box full of sand.

  She had not gone far when she rounded a corner to be confronted by two soldiers coming towards her. It was too late to hide. Halting, she waited while they approached, her heart tripping in her breast. I should have armed myself, she thought stupidly, but it did not seem to matter, for already they were bowing and the hands holding their swords remained low. “Where are you going?” she demanded.

  “His Majesty commanded us to guard the women’s quarters,” one of them answered. “We are to keep you safe.”

  “So Kamose is alive!” she breathed, encouraged. “How long ago did you see him? Where was he going?”

  “His Majesty came out of the house and we were stationed under the pillars,” the same one explained. “He told us nothing other than to guard you. Majesty, what is happening?” Aahotep looked them over, wondering briefly whether or not to send them on to Tetisheri’s door before deciding that there they would be wasted. Nor did she want to take the time to explain a situation she herself did not understand, for if she did her nerve might fail her.

  “You had better come with me,” she ordered. “Be prepared to kill anyone you do not recognize.” Bending down, she wrestled a knife from the belt of a corpse lying across the door-way to Seqenenra’s office and as she straightened she realized that the shroud of night had lifted altogether. Ra had rimmed the horizon.

  At that, she was suddenly filled with a sense of urgency. Hurry, something whispered to her, hurry or you will be too late. She began to run along the passage, past the wide interior entrance to the reception hall, past the small room opposite which held the household shrines, and out under the pillars, the two men panting behind her. The stone beneath her feet struck cold through her sandals and the air was momentarily brisk but the garden beyond was already bathed in sparkling new light and sonorous with birdsong. Warmth struck her skin as she veered towards the path leading to the watersteps but she scarcely noticed it, so compelling was the need to rush on. Part of her consciousness stood back and watched her flight with astonishment. Is this you, Aahotep, moon worshipper, lover of dignity and the exercise of a placid authority, fleeing unpainted and with hair and linen streaming? it asked, and then was engulfed and forgotten in a tide of overwhelming panic, for she heard someone scream.

  Tumbling out onto the path she paused, breast heaving, legs shaking with the unaccustomed stress. Beyond the grape trellis a group of men were struggling with each other. A few steps away from her one of them was down and clearly dead, his neck half-severed through. Another lay a little farther away, his limbs spreadeagled on the packed earth. Someone was cradling him, head lowered, his broad back smeared with dust, and with a shriek Aahotep recognized Ahmose. She started forward, dimly aware that the soldiers who had accompanied her had already rushed into a fray where one man wearing the blue-and-white livery of the royal house had been attempting to hold off three others.

  Between her and the bowed spine of her younger son another man was running, a wooden club raised in both hands. His intent was clear and with a spurt of sheer despair Aahotep knew that he would reach Ahmose before she could. Her escort, closely engaged, had not seen the danger. She yelled at them as she sped, heard another scream behind her, but now all her attention was fixed on covering the ground. Sweat sprang out over her body, seeping into her eyes, but she hardly felt its sting.

  The man with the club had come within striking distance of his victim. Slowing, he swung his weapon. “Ahmose!” Aahotep cried out but h
er voice was drowned in the shouts and curses of the fighting soldiers and he did not hear her. He went on rocking the body of the man he was holding so tightly. The attacker steadied his stance, feet apart, and it seemed to Aahotep that in the second before he brought his crude weapon thudding against her son’s defenceless skull the whole of her world ceased to exist. Time itself became torpid, oozing like thick honey. She was not moving at all and the leaves of the trees to right and left of the path as it wound away into nothingness were trapped into immobility. Silence filled her head. All she could hear was the muffled booming of her own pulse and her own sobbing breath.

  Then the club came down. Ahmose collapsed onto his side. But with a fierce shout Aahotep drove the knife into his assassin’s back. Pain exploded from her wrist to her shoulder and she knew in a burst of fear that she had merely struck a rib. The man began to turn. It was Prince Meketra, a look of astounded disbelief on his face. Gasping and weeping, Aahotep almost dropped the knife, recovered, and gripping its hilt in both slippery hands she raised it high and drove it into Meketra just beneath his shoulder. This time it sank deep. Meketra fell clumsily to his knees taking her with him, his bewildered glance going to the weapon protruding so incongruously from his flesh. Aahotep placed one foot on his chest and jerked the knife free. Meketra tumbled backwards and Aahotep followed, this time pushing the blade into the hollow of his throat. His eyes widened and he tried to cough.

  Aahotep did not see him die. On hands and knees she scrambled at once to Ahmose. He was lying limply with his eyes half-closed, one side of his head a mass of blood, his mouth also smeared. Beside him Kamose rested, an arrow jutting from his side, one hand on his chest and the other outflung as though waiting to receive something that might be placed on his brown palm. He was smiling gently but his gaze was fixed. He was dead.