Nikolas was certain that he wouldn’t have sold the ladies at Thebes, as no Egyptian merchant would have been prepared to buy them, however attractive they may have been and no matter what deal was offered. The ladies were too beautiful and too intelligent to be able to be held as slaves in Egypt. They would either simply escape or make their free status known and secure their release. To have any market value Kiya and Lorentis had to be transported outside Egypt and to a place beyond the reach of Egyptian influence, such as Damascus, where not only would their beauty be appreciated but even if they were able to communicate their plight no recourse or sympathy could be expected, and from which captivity escape and return to Egyptian lands would be almost an impossibility.
For these reasons Nikolas was certain that Aiidum would take the women with his caravan on the ‘Road to the Sea’ along Wadi Hammamat, which led east from Qift on the Nile through the hills of the Eastern Desert to the port of Quesir on the coast. From there it would be a short boat trip to one of the overseas trading-ports to the north and then overland to Damascus. The Road to the Sea was long and difficult, over 120 miles across desert and barren hills and the journey would take the caravan at least a week as it progressed along the series of waterholes and wells. In the burning heat of the summer the merchant would take the journey slowly and carefully. In Quesir Aiidum would be unlikely to find a ship ready for immediate departure and would most likely have to wait and book space on an available ship. In contrast Nikolas and his men would be moving fast like avenging demons.
T T T T
Kahun sat at a table in the secret-police headquarters at Memphis. The table was littered with piles of reports written on papyrus.
“What about Pyemra?” he asked Quenymin. “What did you come up with from his interrogation?”
Quenymin was sitting on the other side of the table, leafing carefully through one of the piles of written reports. He sighed and rubbed his eyes, tired from squinting at the poorly-written reports in the dim light. “There’s a report here somewhere. I think it’s in that pile,” he said pointing.
“Just give me the gist,” demanded Kahun.
“I had him questioned. Just beaten as you instructed; no knife work,” Quenymin said with a sniff of disapproval. “I really don’t have much confidence in such a soft approach.”
“But I have no confidence in torture. People will say anything to get it to stop, and you never know whether you’ve found the real culprit or just somebody who says what you want to hear. Police work is not about submitting a report saying how many crimes you’ve solved. It’s about catching the right people, not just somebody who will do.”
Quenymin sniffed again. “I find it works well enough. Yes, sometimes you get a ‘babbler’, but I can tell the false confessions from the real ones. You just have to concentrate on the details. Only those who committed the crime know the details. I hope that I’m professional enough not to build up a list of crimes solved ‘the easy way’, instead of sticking it out and finding the real culprit.”
“Anyway,” said Kahun, with a dismissive wave of the hand. “What about Pyemra?”
“He denies any involvement but said he wished it was him. He certainly hated Ra-em hotep enough to do him in.”
“Nothing shown up by a search of his property. No poisons?” asked Kahun. Quenymin shook his head. “You have questioned the palace servants again, this time about Pyemra?”
“Yes. He wasn’t seen around the palace at the time of the murder. By then he had already taken his family back to his estate after the incident involving his daughter,” replied Quenymin.
“So we have nothing on him other than a hatred of Ra-em hotep, which dozens if not hundreds of others shared.” Kahun pulled a wry face. “Let him go. I don’t think he’s the right man. We’re wasting our time and abusing a minor noble for no benefit.”
“I’d like to keep him in custody and try to squeeze him again,” said Quenymin.
“What part of ‘no’ don’t you understand? Let him go! He’s got nowhere to run to and we can always pick him up later if anything else comes to light,” ordered Kahun. “So we’re back at square-one and no further advanced than before. Hopefully Nikolas and the others are doing better than we are! Now, you’re going to have to take over here in Memphis as Pharaoh wants me to accompany him to Thebes.”
T T T T
Next morning Nikolas sat at the breakfast table before dawn with the others from the party sharing the large table. He quickly shovelled food from the plate to his mouth, barely pausing to chew or taste the fresh bread, yoghurt and cheese. The mood of the men was sombre and conversation short. Nikolas’ brief time at the mine had taken its toll on his body; the hard work, lack of food and blistering sun had turned him dark and whip-cord thin. His ribs stood out prominently under the long robe that he wore and which was necessary to cover the slave brand he still carried on his shoulder.
Shortly after first light they departed for the east gate, carrying bundles of freshly-cooked food for use over the next few days, as well as dried meat, dried vegetables and biscuit. Once outside the gate they met with Penbuy and Rudiju and had the horses quickly tacked up. The horses and the men were refreshed after the break.
Pamose walked from chariot to chariot, carefully checking each as he placed the bows and arrows into the ready-use holder on each one and made sure that the five two-gallon water-skins each carried were well secured. With the sun just above the horizon the nine-strong party moved off in five chariots, headed north-east.
The Road to the Sea ran from Qift on the Nile just north of Thebes, almost due east along the Wadi Hammamat to Quesir on the coast, with a branch-track heading south to Thebes. The rolling white and grey hills beyond the Nile Valley were deeply cut and scarred with seasonal watercourses, dry and empty apart from rare floods. The dirt track meandered along a shallow valley that was usually quite wide but in some places narrowed down to just a few paces in width.
With his recent experience of the Western Desert Nikolas was surprised at the difference in the land through which they moved.
Rocky and hilly, rather than sandy and flat; grey gravel instead of sand; still a dry desert, but one which apparently received some small amount of rain on at least a seasonal basis. Vegetation existed, particularly close to the wadis, although it was sparse. Occasional small acacia trees grew, mainly along the dry watercourses and in depressions where water would sit even if just for a short time when rain did fall. Bushes of tamarisk and small toothbrush trees were dotted here and there, occasionally forming dense clumps of vegetation. There were still some traces of grasses, now long dried and withered but having cast their seeds to await the next rain, perhaps next winter or perhaps in five years time. The vegetation in the main had its own protection to ensure survival from the predations of grazing animals. Some had sharp thorns and some was poisonous.
During the cooler part of the day small birds could be seen flitting about near the bushes, foraging for seeds, small insects and small reptiles; finches, wheatears and sand-grouse, staying close to the refuge provided by those same thorny bushes. Overhead, riding the thermals as the desert heated up, were the birds of prey; these were mainly vultures of several species, some relatively small but one with wingspans of up to three paces; there were also eagles and falcons. Once a lizard longer than a man’s arm walked with its stiff gait across the track just ahead of the party.
Nikolas spied a balanites tree and took several minutes to stop to shake it and collect the fruit kernels for later medicinal use, with the pretext of calling a rest-halt. Occasionally small groups of a tiny delicate and beautiful gazelle could be seen moving in the distance, grazing on what vegetation they could find close to the dry watercourses, their tawny hide making them difficult to observe. On steeper rock-faces ibex could be seen jumping comfortably from rock to rock, the males with their very large rear-curving horns and distinctive beards staring disdainfully down at the travellers while maintaining a safe distance out of bo
w-shot.
Despite the land showing a few more signs of life than the Western Desert the landscape through which they rode was arid, harsh, barren and apparently devoid of human life. The large vultures, riding the thermals high in the air and on the look-out for carrion, showed that the land was also unforgiving to those that made mistakes.
The summer sun beat down unmercifully on them, heating the land so that the air quivered with heat-haze and the harsh glare of light reflected from the white or light-grey ground seared the eyes.
In the oven-like heat perspiration dried instantly, leaving salt-stains on the clothing and cloth headdresses that the men wore for protection. What small breeze there was blew fitfully from the west, blowing the dust raised by the chariot wheels along with them, soon caking their bodies with dust and grime. The ever-present flies tormented the travellers, both human and equine, seeking to drink moisture from eyes and nostrils. The tails and ears of the horses flicked and twitched constantly.
Nikolas forced a bruising pace, keeping the chariots moving as fast as possible. They stopped every two hours for a brief ten minute rest in which the horses in harness were changed with the spares which had been trotting behind, and all were watered. Nikolas carefully tipped water from a large water skin onto his right hand and rubbed this across his face, firstly around the eyes and then lower to his mouth and chin. Sand grated harshly against his hand as he tried to carefully wash his eyes clean of the cloying grit. His body ached from the constant swaying and bumping caused as the unsprung chariots moved over the uneven and rocky ground. There was little conversation and the men frequently cast looks in Nikolas’ direction as if worried about what he may do next in his obsession.
In the late morning they paused at the small oasis where the track from Thebes joined the main road some twenty miles east of Qift, and slightly more than that from Thebes. They watered the horses, filled the several water-skins that had been used, and ate a hurried meal of jerked meat, bread and fruit before remounting the chariots and headed off directly eastwards.
They moved swiftly and by nightfall were nearly half way to Quesir. From the information that he had obtained at the caravanserai at Thebes Nikolas knew that they would shortly be nearing the gold-mining village of Bir Umm Fawakhir, which was located in a narrow valley in the granite and basalt hills that the Road to the Sea would shortly enter; there mines and quarries were located, but these were operated only in the cooler months and largely with the temporary labour provided each season by the kmet administration. They had passed two small west-bound caravans, the traders camped in the heat of the day in whatever shade they could find and travelling only at night to avoid the worst of the summer heat. The master of the one caravan heading west advised that there were two larger east-bound caravans not far ahead.
Pamose gave a chuckle as he and Nikolas walked back to their chariots. “They think we’re an army patrol,” he said. “Not an unreasonable assumption, as we’re carrying weapons and using chariots, even if we aren’t in uniform,” replied Nikolas.
They camped that night next to the track, where it passed through a mile-wide section of valley. Just ahead the track swung abruptly north-east as the countryside changed from rolling hills of light grey and brown into steep and rugged hills of dark-grey, black and red stone; the valley along which the road ran became narrower, now rarely more than fifty paces wide and often even narrower. As they sat around the meagre fire made of dried animal dung, Pamose said to Nikolas. “My friend, what if we reach Quesir without meeting their caravan? What do we do then?”
Nikolas shook his head slowly. He was so tired his whole body ached and his brain could hardly think. “We worry about that if it happens,” he snapped, not prepared to face the alternative posed by Pamose.
Pamose had instructed one of the men to ride ahead of the group to scout whether they were catching up with the slave caravan. The chariots provided a means of rapid movement, but at the cost of the raising of a telltale plume of dust.
Several times as they moved eastwards they had seen movement amongst the craggy hilltops near the track, and twice they saw the flash of sun reflecting off metal weapons. Fortunately the group was clearly too strong to be worth the risk of attack by the small bands of bandits or nomads living in the area. Nikolas pointed this out to Pamose, who replied, “Yes, that’s the fourth group I’ve seen since we left Thebes. This is a dangerous area to travel in anything less than good strength and lots of guards. The garrisons at Quesir and Qift must be sitting on their collective arses with no patrols out to allow this situation to occur.”
When they camped for the night Nikolas sent one man on foot to scout ahead. He returned after about an hour and advised that a caravan was camped in the valley about one mile away. Both he and Nikolas thought this significant as the village of Bir Umm Fawakhir was not far ahead and offered better accommodation, fresh water and fresh food that wouldn’t be available at the site where the caravan had stopped. Nikolas could only assume that this was because the caravan carried goods that made the caravan-master reluctant to have close contact with the villagers, and that his intention was to just call briefly at the village the following morning to water the animals and fill their water-skins at the wells before heading east.
Nikolas and Pamose moved forward slowly and carefully to look at the camp. The deep soft sand sucked at their feet, slowing their movement as they moved down the valley. The scout came with them and eventually whispered, “Around the second turn in the gorge it widens out to about a hundred and fifty paces. Two wadis enter the gorge at that point, one from the north and one from the south. The caravan is camped there and has set up camp for the night; it looks as if they’re travelling during the day, and not at night. Perhaps fifty people with five or six tents.”
Nikolas clapped him on the shoulder and together they moved swiftly but silently to the bend indicated and cautiously peered around the corner. There was a caravan of perhaps three dozen donkeys and a similar number of people setting up camp in the valley ahead. A small fire was being built in the middle of the camp and the animals were being watered, fed and then hobbled for the night. It was dusk, only a few minutes from being fully dark. They could see eleven men who appeared to be guards, although several of these were helping set up camp. Eight women and three slender male youths were sitting or standing near where the fire was being lit, with two guards standing nearby.
Nikolas was almost certain that two of the women he had seen moving near the fire and wearing long grey robes to protect them from the sun were Lorentis and Kiya.
Nikolas and Pamose watched as the camp was made and food cooked. After full darkness fell the camp settled down to sleep. Four guards were posted, two sitting near the fire and two further out near the camp perimeter. Those guards further out occasionally strode in to stand near the fire and chat with the other guards.
Pamose snorted with professional disgust at this lack of discipline. “That’s so pathetic! Not only are the guards leaving their posts, but each time they do so they ruin any night-sight they have; the light of the fire makes sure they can see hardly past their noses, let alone into the darkness outside the camp.”
“I’m not going to complain about their lack of discipline if it makes our work easier,” replied Nikolas.
“I’m not complaining, just making a professional observation,” said Pamose.
After darkness they returned to where their men had made their own cold-camp, discussed with their men what they’d seen and made plans for an attack about three hours before dawn.
Wrapped in a blanket against the chill of the desert night Nikolas quickly fell into an exhausted sleep. Awoken after midnight, he dressed and armed himself, before moving to the middle of the camp where Pamose was checking the equipment and arms of each man. They hadn’t lit a fire in case the glow alerted the guards at the nearby caravan camp and they ate the rations they had brought with them cold; jerked beef, now dry bread and water warm from the water-skins. While Pam
ose was completing checking the men and their equipment Nikolas walked quickly to the last turn in the valley floor.
It was fully dark. There was no moon, but the clear night sky allowed some light to fall from the bright stars above. With some difficulty Nikolas saw the crouched shape of his scout, still watching the enemy camp, and crawled towards him; a low grunt acknowledged his presence. Nikolas positioned himself lying alongside the scout, peering around the corner towards the camp.
The fire set by the caravan guards had burned low, its red embers casting a ruddy glow over several shapes huddled nearby. The scout said, “There’s just the two guards sitting by the fire. The dozy bastards look like they’re asleep. There are animals moving about. I’ve seen jackal and foxes - you’ll have heard them barking. There are probably hyena nearby, but I haven’t seen any.”
As Nikolas watched the guards around the campfire a slow smile ran across his face. When he returned to his own camp he said to Pamose, “It would’ve been difficult to have ordered a better situation. The guards are sitting facing the fire, either asleep or close to it, their night-sight destroyed by the glare of the fire. They’d be lucky to see beyond five or six paces in the dark. The presence of the jackals means that even if any of our men do make a sound the guards are likely to ascribe it to an animal and pay no attention.”
Final instructions were given before the men moved off and Nikolas returned to bend with the scout.
Using the bows and arrows bought by Pamose at Thebes, Umtau and Zirman moved forward until little more than twenty paces away from the guards near the fire, notched their arrows and took aim at the shapes silhouetted against the firelight. At the signal – a jackal-like cough – arrows were loosed and the guards tumbled to the ground without a sound. Nikolas’ men ran swiftly and silently to where the other guards slept. Five were dispatched with a quick slash of a knife or stab of a sword and the others rendered unconscious, or worse, by being struck heavily on the head as they slept.
Murder in the Palace: A Nikolas of Kydonia Mystery Page 20