All at once Ahmose came striding briskly from the house, his legs wet, his tight curls glistening with moisture. “I decided to go fowling this morning with Prince Sebeknakht and his friends,” he said by way of explanation. “The reed marshes are teeming with ducks. Sebek-nakht is a very good shot with the throwing stick and we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. I came home very muddy though.” Aahotep began a furious reply but it was cut short by the sound of Yku-didi’s staff of office striking the step outside the hall.
“Enter who will!” he called. There was a rush past him. Ahmose smiled encouragingly at everyone. Kamose squeezed Tani’s hand. They followed the crowd into the dimness of the hall.
The courtiers had been shepherded to either side so that Kamose, walking between the pillars, could see straight to the Throne. It was empty. A guard barred his way and another took up his position behind the family. For a few minutes the atmosphere in the hall became charged with excitement and expectation, then Yku-didi reappeared, this time beside the doors at the far side that had been flung open, and began to shout the King’s titles.
The royal party filed in. The wives settled themselves on the steps of the dais. Behind them Apepa followed and mounted, turning to seat himself. Kamose, with bated breath, saw that he was wearing the Double Crown, the smooth white dome of Upper Egypt nestling inside the red support of the symbol of Lower Egypt. Fastened above his forehead was the Uraeus. Today the cobra and the vulture had a predatory look to them, their ebony eyes hungry. Kamose repressed a shiver. Strapped to Apepa’s chin was the royal beard of plaited leather thongs. Impassively the King surveyed the company. Yku-didi finished his recital and took up his position below the Fanbearer on the Right Hand. Itju opened his paint pot and checked his brushes. A deep hush stole over the courtiers so that the song of a solitary bird could be heard pouring its delirious winter music between the sun-splashed pillars.
Apepa pointed down the hall. Immediately the guards ushered Kamose and the others forward. With heads high they walked the length of the hall. Halting before the Throne, they went down on their knees and then on their faces, prostrating themselves. “Read the charge,” Apepa said quietly, his voice falling flat in the packed room. Ykudidi cleared his throat. Kamose heard the rustle of a scroll being unrolled.
“Kamose Tao, hereditary Prince of Egypt, erpa-ha and smer, governor of Weset and her nomes, you and your family by blood are charged with conspiring to commit treason together with the Osiris One Seqenenra Tao, of taking up arms against the Divine One and Ruler of the Two Lands Awoserra Aqenenra Apepa, and of breaking the treaties of mutual trust and aid sealed between your grandfather Senakhtenra and the King. You are charged with attempting to disturb the balance of Ma’at in Egypt and with blasphemy against Egypt’s supreme protector Sutekh. Copies of these charges have been given to Sutekh, Ra and Thoth for judgement. Your guilt has been determined. Life, Health and Prosperity to the One who reigns, like Ra, eternally!”
There was a pause. Kamose closed his eyes, his cheek pressed to the warm floor.
“You may rise,” Apepa’s voice floated over them, still flat and emotionless. They came to their feet. Ahmose stared frankly at the King. Kamose, beside him, watched as at a peremptory wave of the royal hand the Keeper of the Royal Regalia mounted the steps between the wives, the open box in his arms. Apepa leaned forward and took the Crook and the Flail. The Keeper backed away. “Do any of you have anything to say before I pronounce sentence?” the King enquired. Kamose met his black-ringed, impenetrable gaze.
“I do,” he said, his voice loud in the late-morning stillness. “It is beneath a son of Amun to try to justify the rebellion that my father planned and that my brother and I took part in, therefore I will not try. But, Majesty, I beg clemency for the women of my family. They neither instigated it nor actively supported us. They are innocent.”
“Are they indeed?” Apepa said politely, his eyes swivelling to Tetisheri standing stiffly in all her splendour. “But who can tell what words of encouragement were whispered in secret, Prince, what seditious desires were fanned in the heat of a summer afternoon? There is nothing temperate here in the south. Not the power of Ra, not the aridity of the desert, not the reckless hot blood of the inhabitants, some of whom, it is said, have more than a tincture of Wawat blood in their veins.” Ahmose stifled an indignant exclamation. “Wawat blood foments wars, or so it is said,” Apepa went on. “Your plea has been noted.” He leaned forward, the Crook and the Flail held firmly against his chest. “Where are your father’s officers, Kamose Tao?”
“There were not many, as your Majesty doubtless knows,” Kamose answered smoothly. “They were all killed in the battle.” Apepa glanced at Pezedkhu who was standing with the other generals against the wall. Pezedkhu imperceptibly shook his head. Apepa looked back at Kamose.
“Justification may be beneath a son of Amun,” he remarked dryly, “but lying is not. However I do not intend to expend my soldiers’ energy in tracking down the miscreants. They did not perform well in any case. I will proceed.” He came to his feet. All but the family sank to the floor. Kamose felt Tani’s hand grip his own as the Crook and the Flail were extended over them. “Hear the judgement of the King all-wise,” Apepa said, raising his voice so that it flowed, strong and vibrant, over the people. “Kamose Tao, for the crime of treason you are commanded to report in four months’ time to the commander of our eastern stronghold, Sile, where you will serve as one of Egypt’s defenders indefinitely. Your nomes are removed from your control. Your property and all your goods are declared khato. They revert to the Crown. Ahmose Tao, you are to report to the Prince and governor of Kush, Teti-en, who will assign you an active post against the tribesmen who refuse to accept Egypt’s jurisdiction. Tetisheri, I have prepared an apartment for you in my harem at Ta-she. There you may retire and do such small works as the Keeper of the Door finds for you. Aahmes-nefertari, you are banished likewise from the sight of your family. You and your son will proceed to the Delta where I myself will arrange a suitable marriage for you outside the bounds of Egypt’s nobility. Tani, you will travel north with me as my honoured guest. You will live at Het-Uart in every blessing. I do not wish you to be unhappy.” Tani’s nails suddenly dug into Kamose’s palm and Kamose winced in spite of his immediate attempt at control.
Apepa sat down. The company stirred. “Such is the sentence,” Apepa went on more mildly. “I have been lenient. You deserve death, but for the sake of your ancient lineage I give you your life. However, on pain of death, you will not see or communicate with each other. I will receive regular reports on your behaviour.”
“Majesty,” Kamose broke in, feeling Tani’s hand trembling violently in his, “perhaps you are not aware that my sister is promised to Ramose of Khemennu. She is already betrothed. Even a King may not break this tie.” Apepa seemed unmoved by Kamose’s temerity. He smiled faintly.
“The possibility of this marriage died a long time ago and you know it,” he rebuked Kamose. “Ramose is a loyal son of Egypt who does not wish to be allied to a traitorous family such as yours. Teti has found him another wife. For his loyalty to me I have given Teti the governorship of Weset and her nomes, this house, and your acres. In four months he and his household will leave Khemennu for Weset. Aahotep, you will remain here to serve your relative in any capacity he chooses. “ Kamose dropped Tani’s hand.
“No!” he shouted, stepping forward. “It is not just, it is not right! Kill us if you must, but do not give our birthright to such a one as Teti! It is an insult to every noble of Egypt. This house is ours, it has been ours since my ancestors left the old palace and built it!” He wanted to say more, to scream abuse at the lofty, arrogant face regarding him with eyebrows raised under the weight of the Double Crown, but caution won. Panting, teeth bared, he fell silent.
“You have forfeited all your rights,” Apepa pointed out. “So has your totem. I know that the High Priest of Amun gave you his support and Amun his blessing. The god will be moved into a small
shrine in the centre of Weset. We do not wish to deprive the people of their comfort. Amun’s temple will be rededicated to Sutekh, whose likeness will reside therein. This audience is at an end.”
Immediately the crowd came to its feet and a buzz of excited talk broke out. The King had already left the Throne and was pacing through the door, his officials before and behind him. The wives were yawning and wriggling on the steps, eager to be gone to the noon meal and more congenial pursuits. Kamose looked about. The courtiers were streaming out into the garden, all but Sebeknakht, who came towards them sympathetically. “I am sorry, Prince,” he said to Kamose. “Be assured that I shall work every day to have your sentences mitigated. It is an outrage to treat Princes thus, no matter what they have done!” There was little for Kamose to say. Graciously he thanked the young man who hurried away and followed the others. Soon no one was left in the hall but the family and their guards.
Tani flung herself on Kamose. “You will not let him take me away, will you, Kamose?” she pleaded hysterically. “You can do something, can’t you? Can’t you?” Kamose roughly pulled the frantic arms from around his neck. Aahotep, exchanging glances with him, cradled the girl against her shoulder.
“Tani, you must try and understand that there is nothing I can do,” Kamose said. “He is the King. His authority is absolute. Mother, for Amun’s sake take her away! Aahmesnefertari, you go too.” The young woman was hesitating, white to the lips. Ahmose went to her swiftly and kissed her.
“Do as he says,” he urged. “I will come to you later. There is much to be said, Aahmes-nefertari, but not now. Do not despair!” With a dazed nod, she turned awkwardly and followed her mother and sister.
“Apepa hopes that we will kill ourselves,” Tetisheri commented coolly, her eyes on the little group now retreating with heads lowered, the guards behind. “He has given us four months for the sentence to sink in and for us to feel the full humiliation of it. Death by our own hand would save him a great deal of trouble.” She shifted her steady gaze to Kamose. “What are you going to do?” she enquired. “It is unthinkable that Teti should be allowed to live in my house and rule your nomes, Kamose. Something must be done.” Kamose rounded on her savagely.
“What do you expect me to do?” he exploded. “Call down fire from Ra to destroy the King? Wake up, Grandmother! I am not a magician, to pull spells of salvation out of my mouth! There is nothing to be done. Nothing!” She regarded his heaving chest and angry eyes unperturbed.
“Nevertheless, you will try,” she responded. “I know you, Kamose Tao. I see into your heart as no other can.” Jerking her head towards Uni waiting out of earshot by the doors, she glided regally away.
“Tani is to be more than one of Apepa’s guests,” Kamose mused, unaware that he had spoken aloud. “She is to be a hostage against our compliance. Of course. That is why he takes her north when he goes and does not send for her later.”
“The same thought had occurred to me,” Ahmose agreed. Kamose swung to him, startled. He had not realized that he had voiced his thoughts. “How wily he is!” Ahmose went on. “By that one move he has tied our hands more tightly than anything else could have done. Now we cannot even run away.”
“Run away?” Kamose frowned. “To where, Ahmose?”
“Anywhere,” Ahmose replied promptly, “as long as we are together.” Kamose began walking away absently. “Where are you going?” Ahmose called after him. Kamose raised his shoulders as though the physical gesture could relieve him of the weight of despair that had settled on him.
“I need to think,” he said. “Go and keep the women calm, Ahmose. You are good at that. I will see you later.”
The noon sun struck him as he left the hall and descended into the garden. Air eddied around him. The grass felt soft under his bare feet. The shrubs and flower beds were alive with the chirp and rustle of birds and insects. The shouts and splashes of jockeying helmsmen came from the river. The reality of the day stunned Kamose. Quickly, with eyes narrowed almost shut, he made for the rear wall and the gate that would let him out onto the practice ground, the barracks and the strip of uncultivated land at the foot of the cliffs. He had his hand on the gate when his guard stopped him. “You are not permitted to visit the barracks, Prince.” Kamose looked beyond to where the soldiers were sitting about idly on the scuffed dirt of the parade area. His eyes sought for Hor-Aha until a moment later he remembered that the General was somewhere deep in the wild lands of Wawat.
“I do not wish to visit the barracks,” he assured the man. “I want to walk a little under the cliffs.” He pushed on the gate but the man stepped apologetically and firmly in front of him.
“I am sorry.”
“Very well.” Kamose turned back and headed for the break in the southern wall that would lead into the old palace compound. The wary guard padded after him.
The palace was empty, quiet and cool. Kamose took deep breaths as he passed through the dilapidated rooms on his way to the stairs by the women’s quarters. Mounting, he came out on the roof and with deliberation sank onto the same dusty spot where his father had often rested and where he had been so cruelly attacked. There was as yet no shade but the winter sun was bearable. Over the wall he saw the garden alive with the multi-coloured floating linens of the restless courtiers. Their conversation reached him as a not-unpleasant susurration of sound. The path from the garden through the grape trellis to the watersteps was alive with heralds and other officials going to and from the river.
Directly below, in a corner of the baking compound where wall met wall and provided a small shadow, a young boy in loincloth and dusty sandals sprawled with his midday meal, oblivious of the man who gazed down on him. The sight made Kamose smile, and his despondency lightened. I need your wisdom now, Father, he spoke in his mind to the ghost of the man who had himself sat here so often that his presence seemed to linger. Show me what alternatives I have. Are we to live scattered and anguished? Are we to die? What choices do we have? Kamose’s chin sank into his palms and he closed his eyes. The royal guard lowered himself resignedly into the debris and set his back against the crumbling side of the windcatcher. He did not relish his duty at all.
13
IN THE LATE AFTERNOON the King sent for Kamose. Kamose had spent several hours in deep thought on the old palace roof, pondering while the garden emptied and the couches and cots in the house and tents were filled with sleeping people, and had been on his way to the cell he shared with Ahmose to wash and change his linen when Yku-didi accosted him in the passage and bade him follow. Kamose did so obediently. He was tired. He had hoped that Apepa would return to Het-Uart without demanding a personal meeting.
Kamose was ushered into his own quarters, where Apepa was sitting in a chair beside the rumpled couch. He had obviously just risen from his afternoon sleep. A square of white linen hid his shaven skull as the law decreed. He was clad in a short, crushed white kilt and nothing else. A servant had the royal foot in his lap and was carefully painting the sole with orange henna. Apepa was sipping water. On the table beside him lay his rings and the Royal Seal. “Prince Kamose, Majesty,” the herald announced, then bowed and withdrew. Apepa signalled. Kamose went forward with bowed back and hands on his knees, then he prostrated himself. Apepa allowed him to rise.
“I wish to return to the Delta tomorrow,” the King said. “Unfortunately the river is still too high to navigate safely and I will have to endure my litter and the desert but I cannot wait. I summoned you to make sure that you fully understand your situation before I leave.” His cosmetician laid down the henna-stained brush and began to fan the royal foot to dry the liquid. Apepa regarded Kamose quizzically from beneath the loose cap of fine linen, his face creasing as he smiled. “Do you have any questions for me, Prince?”
“Majesty, I beg you to reconsider taking Tani away with you,” Kamose said. “She is still very young and has never been separated from her family. She …” Apepa silenced him with a wave of one freshly hennaed palm.
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br /> “She is sixteen, a woman, and capable of understanding her duty to her King,” he replied. His smile widened. He knows perfectly well that I have concluded her true status, Kamose thought. “My advisers recommended execution for all of you,” the King went on. “You do not seem grateful for my clemency.”
“I would guess that only your Setiu advisers recommended execution, Divine One,” Kamose said softly. “I would also guess that your native Egyptian administrators thought the idea horrifying and warned you against such a move for the sake of your security. They were wise.” The smile disappeared from Apepa’s face.
“My advisers are invited to give me their opinions because I value their wisdom,” he snapped, “but I alone in Egypt am all-wise. The final decision was mine.” He snatched his foot from the cosmetician’s grasp and leaned forward. “You have the arrogance to believe that I fear you, Kamose Tao, that one hint of a threat from you will send me scurrying to Sutekh in prayer for my survival. Not so. You and your family live in a world of old dreams and dead glories where the Setiu are still enemies and you are still Kings.”
He held out a hand and a servant approached with an unguent jar. Pouring a drop of oil on the royal palm, he withdrew. Apepa rubbed his hands together and passed them over his face and neck and the heady aroma of lotus flowers filled the room. “I was born here,” Apepa said slowly. “My father, my grandfather and his before him, all gods of Egypt. I could have killed Aahmes-nefertari’s son, that child of your so-called royal brother, but I do not need to kill. All Egypt worships me, Kamose, for I am the god. I am almost moved to pity you for your delusions and your poverty.” He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply as Kamose wanted to do. The flower odour was bewitchingly sensuous. “My forefathers acknowledged your privileged place in the Egypt of old and concluded treaties with your family instead of wiping them out. Now I, too, reverence the past by rapping your knuckles instead of piercing your heart.” The royal eyes suddenly opened wide and fixed Kamose with a cold stare. “You will never see Weset again, I promise you. But I will also promise you that Tani will be surrounded with all respect and the luxury she deserves because of her station as a Princess and though your other sister cannot be allowed a noble husband, yet I will choose for her wisely so that she knows no want. Herald!” The door opened and Yku-didi bowed. “Show in the General.” A bareheaded, powerfully built man came in, bowing. “This is General Dudu,” Apepa told Kamose. “He is to stay here with fifty of his soldiers when I and my retinue leave tomorrow. He will assess all your holdings for appropriation and will send me weekly reports on you until the four months are up, at which time his Second will escort Ahmose into Kush and he will bring you and the others north. You are dismissed. We shall not meet again.”
The Hippopotamus Marsh Page 29