by Max Overton
"What am I to do?" he complained to his military adviser Sethi. "How do I make him see that I am the only reasonable choice?"
Sethi turned away from the window of the audience room in the viceregal palace where he had been regarding the dusty city streets leading down to the river. He stroked the hard, flat surface of his belly absently. His tall, slim body was now very different from that of the King's Son. A dozen years before, when they first came to Kush, there were many physical similarities between the two men, but while Sethi had remained fit and healthy, Messuwy had aged visibly and put on weight. This was probably down to their respective lifestyles as Sethi was often out with patrols, eating soldiers' rations, sharing their hardships, whereas Messuwy stayed in the palace, sleeping on soft beds, drinking fine wines and eating rich food. Even now, he sat at a table covered with the remains of a huge meal and picked at the carcass of a fatty goose.
"I don't see how you can," Sethi said. "Short of petitioning him again." There were few people Messuwy trusted, but Sethi was one of them. As a token of his appreciation, the King's Son had given his adviser the right to drop all honorifics when talking to him in private. "You do have other courses of action, but none of them are without considerable risk."
"Such as?"
Sethi cracked his knuckles and turned back to the window where a gust of hot air greeted him. "Conquer an enemy. Show the king that you are a worthy military successor to the great Usermaatre. Seti is an untried boy. Baenre would hardly make him Heir if there was a worthy royal general available."
"What enemy?" Messuwy dabbed at a smear of goose grease with a fragment of finely-milled wheat bread.
Sethi shrugged. "You have innumerable tribes in Kush, though they are scarcely a threat to the safety of the Two Kingdoms."
"Of what use are they then?"
"None really."
"Then why mention them? Besides, how could these inconsequential tribes ever be a 'considerable risk' as you put it?"
"In this case, the risk is that you would look foolish by waging war against them. The enemies of Kemet are all in the north, the Hatti, Assyrians, Babylonians, Sea Peoples. You can scarcely march through Kemet to attack them."
"I hope your other ideas are better." Messuwy stifled a belch and wiped his fingers on a cloth before pouring himself some wine.
"You could kill a certain old man."
Messuwy choked on his wine and looked around quickly, making sure they were alone. "Be careful. Anyone could be listening."
"The only people within earshot are my own men," Sethi said, "and none of them can speak Kemetu."
Messuwy raised his eyebrows. "How do you talk to them then?"
"In their own dialects. As I was saying, remove a certain man before he can make a public announcement and you would have a very good claim to succeed him."
"Only if I was not seen to have brought about his death."
"Maybe even then."
"Could it be done? Safely?"
"Perhaps. I have agents within the palace at Men-nefer. One of them might be able to introduce poison to the king's table."
Messuwy shuddered and put down his cup of wine. "I don't like poison, though I can see its uses."
"It is also very obviously an assassination technique. Men would point to it and speculate who would gain the most. That would not matter if you controlled the army, but Seti is more likely to do that. There are other methods, a knife perhaps, or a blow to the head. Striking a certain man down in battle would be less risky, but you might wait a long time for the opportunity. Also, killing a certain man is god-cursed, so the perpetrator would have to be prepared to forego his afterlife."
"Who would risk that?"
"A foreigner perhaps. Someone with other gods who did not believe that would be his fate. A man might do it for reward, if the reward was great enough."
"What else?" Messuwy took up his cup again and drank. "You must have something else."
"Kill the boy. If he is dead, he cannot inherit."
"Wouldn't that look suspicious too?"
"Not if it was managed well," Sethi said. "He is a bold and adventurous boy, by all accounts and...accidents happen. The advantage of this course is that even if he had already been made Heir, his death would necessitate another man being raised to the position. You would be the obvious choice."
"It could be done?"
"I have a man in mind."
"He would have to be close to the boy. It couldn't be just anyone."
"Bay."
"Who?"
"Scribe Bay, brother of your Suterere."
"Ah, but if he did it, the blame might be traced back to me."
"He is a clever and discreet man. He would not act unless the action was untraceable."
Messuwy considered, sipping on his wine. "Investigate the possibility, but do not carry it out without my command."
Sethi inclined his head in assent. He crossed to the table and picked among the food scraps, selecting a small melon, splitting it open with a knife. "There are other possibilities," he said.
"Yes?"
"Rebellion."
Messuwy laughed. "Really, Sethi, your mind is addled. How does rebellion help me? Do you imagine I have legions just waiting to march on Kemet?"
"Not at all, but military might is not the only route to the throne. A popular uprising might be fomented..."
"Your mind must truly be addled if you think peasants can overcome the king's legions."
Anger sparked in Sethi's eyes, but he looked away, controlling his voice. "A peasant army only need engage the legions, not defeat them. While the army is tied up putting down the rebellion, a picked force could strike at the heart."
Messuwy shook his head and poured himself more wine. "We have the same problem as before. Direct action against a certain man is god-cursed. You're just going to have to think of something else."
"Then we must call upon the Nine Bows."
"Explain."
"The Nine Bows, the traditional enemies of Kemet."
"Yes, yes, I know who they are, but I don't see how they can help us."
Sethi frowned, staring at Messuwy. "Don't you? I rather thought that was obvious. Both you and our enemies want to take over the Double Kingdom and kill the...a certain man. There are differences, naturally, but essentially you have a common purpose. Have a foreigner attack Kemet in force, and let them take the god-cursed action. You then step in with your loyal Kushite forces and save the Lands, becoming king as you do so."
"And which of the Nine Bows do you envisage as being so selfless as to help me to the throne?"
"Our enemies serve only themselves, but they are not to know they are being used. Given the right incentive and encouragement, we should be able to induce them to invade in just the right place. They are drawn into the Lands until they are isolated from their supplies, they are brought to battle and kill the man, and then we fall upon them, alas too late to save the man, but willing to assume the burden he has just relinquished."
"That's it? It seems a very simple plan for such a great undertaking. Too simple, I think."
"You asked me for ideas," Sethi said, a touch irritably. "This is an idea that could work, but it would need to be thought through very carefully. If you want, I can study it in greater detail, make a few tentative approaches, and develop a proper plan."
Messuwy yawned and stretched. He got up and sauntered across to the window, picking at his teeth with one fingernail. "I would lose nothing by having a proper plan, I suppose. As long as you can keep my name away from it. If it was discovered, I would have to denounce you as a traitor."
"My Lord can be certain that I would be most discreet." Sethi stressed the personal pronoun, his face impassive.
Messuwy grunted, and rubbed his belly speculatively. "I need to defecate," he muttered. "Who would you get to invade?"
Sethi thought for a few moments, ignoring the little spasms of discomfort that passed over Messuwy's face. "We can rule some of our enemie
s out immediately. The Kushite tribes are fierce but disorganised and could not mount a determined action. Moreover, the last thing we need is an invasion in the south. You would be called upon to meet it, and it would not serve our purpose. In the north..."
Flatus erupted loudly from the rear of the King's Son. He immediately started for the door, calling for the servants of the Inner Chamber, leaving Sethi to cope with his odoriferous effluvium. Sethi waved a hand in front of his face in distaste and walked back to the window, leaning out for a few minutes until the heated air spilling in from outside had dispelled the stink. He sat on the windowsill and waited, hearing the muted noises of the King's Son and the bustle of servants, thinking about his position in the viceregal retinue and whether he had made the right choice all those years before.
Fifteen years hitched to his chariot and what do I have to show for it? An advisor to a would-be king who has been passed over by his father, in favour of his child brother. He's the fool, yet he treats me like one. Should I forsake him for the northern court? I could. I could even carry a tale of treason that would shatter 'My Lord Messuwy' and gain me favour with the boy...but it would mean leaving my gold behind. Five hundred deben weight of fine gold hidden in a cave in Kush, gold that has never seen a treasury tally. The gratitude of a king could be worth ten times that, but he could also dismiss me on a whim and then I would have nothing. What chance does Messuwy really have of becoming king?
Sethi had not decided this when Messuwy re-entered the room, a satisfied smirk on his face.
"That feels much better. Did you know that the palace at Waset has a room with a seat on a stone trough and the servants pour water into a stone channel leading into one end of it?"
"What's the point of that?"
"The stream of water carries the waste along another channel into a large pot that a servant can take outside. There is very little smell. I just remembered it as I was sitting amidst the stink. I must have one built here. I could even have the channel lead outside and remove the waste from the palace altogether."
Sethi shrugged. "If it is your will, but I really cannot see the point. The gods made men's shit stink, whether a man is a king or the lowliest peasant, so we know we are all mortal. Trying to hide the stink could be seen as opposing the will of the gods."
Messuwy frowned. "You think so?"
"Who built it in the Waset palace? I doubt it was your grandfather Usermaatre."
"I think it was Nebmaatre, or maybe the Heretic, or even his uncle Kheperkheperure."
"There you are then. They opposed the gods and the gods destroyed them, lifting up your noble family to take their place. I'd advise you to put all thoughts of this waste trough and water channels from your mind."
"Hmm, perhaps there is something in what you say. What were we talking about?"
"I was about to relate the enemies of the north."
"Get on with it then." Messuwy's eyebrows lifted as he caught the flash of anger on his advisor's face. The King's Son grimaced and continued more gently. "Go on, Sethi."
"As I have already enumerated, in the north we may count as our immediate enemies the Hatti, The Assyrians, Babylonians, tribes of the Sea Peoples, various tribes from the northwest, and minor tribes like the Kanaanites, Israelites, Sons of Midian and Moab, the Bedu, the Tjeker, and others too numerous to mention. The barbarians breed like mice in a granary. Well, we can rule some of them out, the lesser tribes of Retenu are no great threat. We saw last year how little trouble the Kanaanites were for your father. Then there are the large kingdoms. Babylon and Assyria have troubles of their own at the moment, and Hatti is more concerned with northern incursions than in invading us.
"That leaves the Sea Peoples and the northwest tribes. Of these, the Tjehenu and the Ribu would be most promising. The Sea Peoples are a real threat, but so far have limited themselves to minor incursions and have, so far, been easily beaten back. That could change. The land of the Tjehenu and Ribu is poor and inhabited mainly by cattle and goat herders. They look on the rich lands of Ta Mehu with envious eyes. There was a minor invasion a year or so ago, but if the tribes allied themselves with the Sea Peoples, they could be a force to be reckoned with."
"Not too much of a force, I hope. I have to be able to defeat them once they've served my purpose."
Sethi nodded. "The secret will be first to guide them to a place where a certain man can be defeated, and then after that, to the place where you can win."
"Such places exist?"
"Undoubtedly."
"And you could persuade the enemy to do this? I don't see how."
"It is probably better you do not know."
"A complex plan and one that contains much that can go wrong," Messuwy mused.
"But a plan that could make you Lord of the Two Lands. Do you want me to pursue it?"
Messuwy considered the risks involved, and the rewards, before nodding. "Make sure my name cannot be connected with any of this."
Sethi smiled and made an ironic bow. "I will set it in motion then, King's Son of Kush." He turned to leave the room.
"I want you to organise a wedding feast too," Messuwy said, examining his fingernails. "Nothing elaborate, a hundred guests or so."
Sethi turned back with a frown on his face. "Who's getting married?"
"I am, of course."
"I meant, to whom? I have heard nothing of wedding plans. Who's the girl?"
"Suterere."
"What? Mut and Min, why? You're a king's son and...and may very well be king someday soon, whereas she's a servant in your palace, by all the gods."
"I love her."
"Love is for peasants and young girls. If she attracts you then take her. Enjoy her for a while and move on."
"I will marry her, Sethi. Nothing else will do."
Sethi stared at Messuwy as if the man had taken leave of his senses. He really has. Here he is, the most powerful man in Kush and he can't make a young servant girl open her legs for him. All right, I can understand wanting a willing partner, willingness is an aphrodisiac, mind you, so is unwillingness, but if the girl refuses and you don't want to force her, look elsewhere. "She is beautiful, I grant, but marriage? Take her as a concubine if you must bed her. Anything more is too good for her."
"I mean to marry her. She will bear my son, my heir."
"Principal wife? By Set and Heru, if you become king...you cannot mean to make her queen?"
"Just so."
"But she is a commoner."
Messuwy yawned and shrugged. "There is precedent."
"A commoner made queen? When? Where?"
"Nebmaatre made Tiye, daughter of Yuya, his queen a hundred years ago."
"And look what happened. She was mother of the Heretic. My Lord, you must not do this." Sethi saw the stubborn look on Messuwy's face and softened his dissent. "Marry her if it pleases you, King's Son, but delay making her Principal Wife. There must be many more suitable matches among the nobility."
"As you say, Sethi, I am King's Son of Kush and it pleases me to marry Suterere. If I choose to make her my Principal Wife and later Great Royal Wife, that is my decision and nothing to do with you."
"Have you considered that Scribe Bay, your spy in the Men-nefer palace, will then be your brother?"
"When I assume my birthright, I will elevate him to a suitable position within my household, Royal Butler perhaps."
"That is not what I meant," Sethi said. "He is common too. Is he to be made mighty in the Two Lands solely because he is brother to your bed-mate?"
"I thought you said he was a capable man, and trustworthy."
"Indeed he is, in small things. How he will behave when power is in his grasp is another matter, and one that cannot be foreseen."
Messuwy looked meaningfully at his adviser. "That could be said of many people, Sethi. I raise a man up, I can cast him down again. You would do well to remember that."
Sethi fought his anger, bowing to hide the fury in his eyes. "Let your will be done, King's Son,"
he murmured
"So go and do it."
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Year 5 of Baenre Merenptah
King Baenre Merenptah was feeling his age. Five years into his reign he was into his mid-seventies and was racked with pain most days. Chipped and fractured teeth were commonplace, though he did not suffer as badly as his father Usermaatre had. He shared stiffness and swelling in his joints, the pain making some days an agony to move. When he did, he suffered from fatigue and a burning sensation in his legs that made him restless, seeking a position that would bring him some ease. One problem outweighed the others, though, at least in his eyes. Toothache, joint pain and fatigue were expected symptoms of old age, and like his father before him, he was already older than most men, but his bowel brought him embarrassment as well as discomfort.
"Please, Son of Re, if you would be so kind as to lean over the table and lift your kilt."
Merenptah grimaced in anticipation but did as his neru pehut requested. Literally 'shepherd of the anus', this specialised physician dealt only with the lower reaches of the royal gut and administered unguents and solutions whenever constipation or excessive bowel movement threatened the king's personal ma'at. The king lifted the fabric of his kilt and leaned forward over the table, exposing his shrunken buttocks to the view of the neru pehut and his assistants.
"Ah, hmm, yes..." The neru pehut separated the cheeks of the king's buttocks and peered closely. "Are you able to pass wind, Son of Re?"
"I think so...wait..." The buttock muscles clenched and relaxed and then with a high-pitched squeak, a small gust of gas wafted into the physician's face. He sniffed and then stood back, cogitating.
"You have a blockage, Son of Re. I must dissolve it and release the decay that lies behind it."