Murder in the Palace: A Nikolas of Kydonia Mystery

by Iain Campbell

  Each squadron of twenty chariots was arranged in four rows each of five chariots. Bridles jangled as the high-spirited warhorses sidled, neighed and whickered ready and waiting for the off, perhaps more keen than the men.

  As they waited Nikolas sat perched on the open back of the chariot, his sandaled feet barely reaching the ground. He pulled a splinter of wood from the wickerwork side of the chariot and began, with seeming nonchalance, to use the wood as a toothpick. He could tell that Pamose was nervous – he’d checked the chariot’s equipment four times and was doing so again, in between fiddling with the fastenings of his unaccustomed chest armour.

  As he used the piece of wood to clean his fingernails, Nikolas noticed without surprise that his hands shook slightly. Fear? Excitement? Yes, both. He was the son of a noble house, born and trained to lead and fight, as was Pamose.

  “First time in battle?” asked Nikolas to Pamose, trying to stop him from fidgeting about as this was getting on Nikolas’ nerves more than the waiting.

  Pamose grunted an affirmative and then said, “But I’ve been on several patrols in the eastern lands that have seen action. Nothing like this.”

  “Me neither. But I guess ‘shit happens’ and we all find ourselves in a new situation. Sit down! Calm down! Your men expect you to be calm and confident. You are making them nervous. Clear your mind and take a dozen deep breaths. Lie down and pretend to take a nap if you want to! Let the men see that you’re unworried, so that they feel their own fears are unfounded. Lead by example. When the battle starts, training will take over for all of us.”

  On the other side of the hill the rebel forces were now deployed.

  Two thousand enemy troops in four regiments were in a line that stretched a little wider than the line of Pharaoh’s army on a front about five hundred paces wide. Another four regiments were behind them, ready to follow and exploit any breakthrough. Yet another thousand were held in reserve ahead of the little knoll where the enemy commanders stood.

  Minnakht noted that most of the enemy troops were tall black spearmen carrying large cow-hide shields. These were Nubian tribesmen, fearsome fighters but used to cattle raids and not pitched battles with modern weapons. Others in their army carried stone-headed maces for close-in fighting and a few were armed with swords or small single-handed battleaxes, presumably taken from the armoury at Aniba.

  There was a regiment of Egyptian army troops on the enemy right flank and two regiments of mercenaries in the centre, the latter better armed and with some armour. Like the Egyptian infantry the Nubians troops fought without the use of body-armour. Minnakht stood with Kahun and several of his other officers on the apex of the hill. The chariots normally used by the commanders as personal transport had been sent to reinforce the right flank. If the battle went against the royalists there would be no quick and easy escape for the generals; Minnakht and his staff would fight and, if necessary, die with the army.

  The royal army was as usual comprised of several components.

  Nubians formed part of each of the Egyptian regiments, professional soldiers recruited and trained as part of the Egyptian army, most with many years of experience. These formed most of the swordsmen. Other professional troops were Egyptians, particularly the archers. Peasant conscripts, with varying degrees of training and experience, formed the bulk of the spearmen.

  In contrast to the shouts and rhythmic stamping of feet from the rebel forces as they formed up, an almost eerie silence had fallen over the royalist army as they patiently awaited the coming attack in a disciplined manner.

  Kahun asked Minnakht, “Do you think that our Nubians will stand firm and not join the enemy?” He was voicing the thought of every officer in the army. When fighting a Nubian army, where would the royalist Nubian troops’ loyalty lie?

  “If they don’t we’re all dead, and Pharaoh had best have a fast boat ready to take him north to Memphis if he wants to avoid joining us in the Afterlife! Make no mistake, we fight for the future of Egypt here today – even if our army is small.” replied Minnakht, clapping Kahun on the shoulder.

  Behind the hill on the left flank of the army Pamose now leant with apparent nonchalance against the side of their chariot. “From all the bustle it looks like things are coming to a head,” he commented.

  “How do you think thing will go?” asked Nikolas.

  “They have more men, but I only saw infantry. They may have some archers, but it would appear they are few. The Nubian warriors are fierce fighters, but aren’t trained to fight proper battles – unless they’ve been trained by our army. Few of the Egyptian rebel troops opposing us are Nubians. Many of the officers in the Southern command either don’t trust them or think they’re stupid animals – or both! The fact is that they’re superb, fearless and loyal infantry. If properly led.

  “Our men are better trained and better disciplined. More particularly we have archers and chariots. The archers mean that when the shield-walls meet that we’ll have parity of numbers as we’ll have whittled them down as they advance. The chariots will be used as shock-weapons to smash their lines when they’re fully engaged with our shield-wall. We should be fine, although it’ll be hard and bloody work.”

  On the other side of the slope from Pamose and Nikolas the rebels had formed up and were now standing some three hundred paces away from the royal army. Again they began to beat their spears against their shields and to shout challenges and abuse at the silent ranks of the royalist forces, trying to have them break ranks and charge. The drumming of weapons on shields rose to a crescendo.

  The defenders stood quietly in stoic silence, officers pacing up and down in front of their men, shouting out words of encouragement and calling for patience and discipline.

  In response to a howl of horns from the small knoll opposite, the enemy front ranks moved forwards. They moved firstly at a slow jog and then, at about two hundred paces from the royalist line, built to a flat-out run, uphill towards the royal army. The ordered ranks of the enemy became a charging mob as the fleet of foot outdistanced the plodders or the more circumspect. The second rank of enemy regiments marched behind the charge and moved closer to the royalists.

  After giving last words of exhortation the Egyptian officers slipped back through the silent and sweating ranks of their men and stood facing the archers standing twenty paces to the rear. Glancing over their shoulders at the approaching enemy, they shouted their commands. “At one hundred paces, on my command, you will loose your arrows! Shoot straight and fast. Take the bastards down! Steady…steady…loose!” Four hundred arrows flew as one, thumping into the massed ranks of the enemy charging upon them. Again and again and again.

  Most archers got off five arrows before the front ranks of the enemy were masked by their own troops, then they shifted their aim towards the stragglers. Most of the arrows had struck and become lodged in the large cow-hide shields carried by enemy Nubians, some of whom bore shields that had been struck by so many arrows that they looked like hedgehogs. But it is difficult to run while holding a large shield straight; many of the tribesmen had made little use of their shields as they had sought to close with the enemy as quickly as possible and thus many arrows had found their targets. Hundreds of tribesmen fell either dead or wounded, causing those troops behind them to either trip over or slow to avoid the bodies and the discarded shields that suddenly littered the ground. As the enemy came close to the Egyptian line the Egyptian archers paused, waiting for the second line which was still walking purposefully forward but not yet in range.

  The front rank of royalist spearmen dropped to one knee, their spears at gut height. The second rank stood at their backs, pressed close and holding spears at chest height, bracing to receive the impact of the charge. Before the front ranks met, fully three hundred rebels already lay in the dust, pierced by arrows and either lying still in death or screaming and writhing in agony.

  Slowed by the long uphill charge and breathless from their running, the rebel forces screamed like dervishe
s and slammed into the line of spears and shields. The shield-wall rocked backwards as they absorbed the impact, and then began to press forward, stabbing as they advanced, the Egyptians now breaking into a slow rhythmic grunting shout of “Hoo! Hoo! Hoo!” Here and there the shield-wall had been breached, overwhelmed by the weight of the enemy attack, and the swordsmen and axe-men standing behind the line moved forward into the breaches to take on the rebels, slashing and smashing them back.

  Nikolas and Pamose were out of sight behind the hill on the left flank. They could hear the noise and battlecries and see only the drifting dust.

  Horns blew and flags were waved at them from the command post at the apex of the hill. Pamose, turned to face backwards towards the serried ranks of chariots, pumped his fist in the air and swept an arm forwards.

  “Crunch time!” commented Nikolas with a falsely nonchalant manner.

  Pamose nodded. “Now we earn our pay!”

  “I’m not getting paid for this! Can I leave now?” quipped Nikolas facetiously.

  The sixty chariots on the left flank moved forwards at a trot, in three groups each of four lines of five, each squadron offset instead of following the previous group. In moments they breasted the slight rise that hid them from the enemy.

  To the rebels it was as if they had appeared like magic from the ground. With the horses still proceeding at a steady trot Pamose and the other chariot-archers began a steady rain of arrows on the rebel infantry pressing against the flanks of Pharaoh’s army, at first into their right flank. As they proceeded further they were then able to shoot into the backs of the packed ranks of the enemy troops pressing uphill.

  The second line of the enemy had approached to within a hundred paces of the battle on the front line and were receiving attention from the archers of Pharaoh’s army. Pamose raised his arm and with a grandiose motion to the left directed the chariots to charge the advancing regiments of the rebels’ second line. The horses smoothly passed from trot to gallop. As the chariots neared the enemy the arrows coming from the archers behind the front line of Pharaoh’s army ceased.

  Pamose made another sweeping hand motion; each squadron changed into line-abreast and charged the enemy. The archer in each chariot drew and loosed as fast as he could, aiming at the spearmen in the front ranks of the rebel force, dropping as many as they could before the forces engaged. Apart from the few enemy archers, who stood safely to the rear, the spearmen were the greatest risk to the charioteers. Again and again the Egyptian chariot-archers loosed their arrows, frequently missing their targets as the chariots rocked and shook as they raced over the uneven ground at full speed.

  As they bowled along at full pace the chariot bounced and rocked alarmingly. Nikolas braced himself against the front wickerwork, knees slightly bent to absorb the motion. He felt at times as if the shaking of the chariot was causing his eyeballs to bounce in his head.

  At Nikolas’ left shoulder Pamose was loosing arrows as fast as he could draw, holding the longbow sideways. He was shouting loudly but with the noise of battle and the wind of their passage Nikolas was unable to determine whether Pamose was shouting instructions, or simply shouting imprecations against their opponents. Nikolas kept his eyes wide open despite the clouds of dust obscuring his vision of the battlefield. He tried to keep an understanding of the immediate battle scene and move the chariot cooperatively and supportively with those others nearby while at the same time paying strict attention to avoid any rocks, holes or bodies that may lay in their path.

  The orderly lines in which the chariots had commenced were soon in disarray as the uneven ground forced the drivers to swerve around obstacles to avoid smashing the delicate wheels or trip the harnessed horses. With a crash the chariots smashed into the enemy ranks, punching holes like a fist through a thin sheet of papyrus. Horses stamped and bit as they trampled men into the ground.

  The chariot-archers now loosed from point-blank range into the faces and chests of their opponents. The line of chariots ripped a hole two hundred paces wide in the ranks of the opposing infantry and then peeled to each side to rake the backs of the enemy with arrows as the archers behind the ranks of Pharaoh’s army also resumed their steady fire from the front. Rebel soldiers fell in lines like scythed corn. Here and there horses lay and kicked as they struggled to break free of overturned or smashed chariots.

  On the right flank the other squadron of chariots had also broken through, and both groups drove parallel to the rear of the enemy infantry, archers loosing arrows as fast as they could into the massed troops ahead of them.

  The rebels were reacting, the rear ranks of troops turning to face backwards to where the chariots roamed back and forth. The few rebel archers grouped near the knoll began firing into the exposed flank of the chariots. Arrows thudded into the protective wickerwork front and sides of the chariot.

  Back on the hill, Minnakht had committed his reserve regiment to the battle, advancing over the rise to relieve the exhausted and decimated front line. The royal army was fully committed.

  Pamose raised an arm and signalled a withdrawal back to their own lines, to the left flank from which they had charged. The chariots were slow to respond; the pall of dust raised by their racing wheels and thousands of human feet covered the battlefield, and men could only see clearly for twenty or thirty paces. In ones and twos, as they saw the movement of the other chariots, Pamose’s force withdrew, still shooting arrows as they fell back to their own lines.

  Drivers carefully navigated through what was now a field of death, covered with the huddled, arrow-riddled bodies of the enemy and a few shattered chariots.

  Pamose continued to loose arrows, one after the other, at the enemy soldiers still scattered across the battlefield. Three of the quivers strapped to the inside of the chariot were now empty. An arrow, almost spent from the distance it had covered, thudded into the scale armour which covered Nikolas’ back, the sharpened stone flint head failing to penetrate.

  Suddenly another arrow, fired from closer range, thumped into the stallion Zimmat’s neck just below his right shoulder. The horse screamed in pain, tossing his head. His previously machine-like stride broke as he began to hop and limp gamely along. Nikolas tightened the rein controlling the mare Egu, to slow her pace to that of the injured Zimmat. Egu turning her head to the right to look anxiously at her injured neighbour, her eyes rolling and nostrils flared. Zimmat struggled on bravely despite the pain that each step caused him as the arrowhead ripped further and further into his flesh. They passed through the battle-line and it was only a few paces to the horse-lines where the handlers waited with fresh horses.

  The handlers untied the horse traces to release Egu and Zimmat as soon as the chariot came to a halt; Nikolas leaped from the chariot and ran to Zimmat’s side, soothing and patting him as the horse continued to toss his head and snort in agony. Nikolas took the untied traces and led him a few paces away from the chariot while new horses were being led to harness. “Get the veterinary surgeon here now!” he shouted, fondling the horse’s nose as it stood with its head lowered and shivering in shock. Egu was led past towards the watering-point and a bucket of water was brought for Zimmat.

  Pamose was taking bundles of arrows, checking each one quickly as he put them into the empty quivers in the chariot, occasionally throwing onto the ground ones with bent shafts or poor binding on the feathers. Each charioteer received a half-bucket of water to quickly wash the dust from his face and eyes and a water-skin to quench his thirst.

  “Well, that went better than I thought,” commented Pamose. “But why didn’t you change the direction of the charge when I ordered?”

  “I couldn’t hear a damn thing you were saying with all the noise and excitement. I have to watch where we’re going and can’t turn to lip-read. If you want me to do something you’ll have to lean forward so I can see you and use hand signals. Maybe shout in my ear as well. If you want me to change direction, punch the shoulder where you want me to turn. I can’t concentrate on
everything,” replied Nikolas.

  “Never mind, we’re all learning!” said Pamose with a half-grin.

  “It’s just as well they don’t know how to fight against chariots!” exclaimed Nikolas.

  Pamose frowned and asked, “And how would you do it?”

  “I’d have the men fight in groups, not a long line. Use very long spears to prevent the chariots breaking the formation and archers in close support to shoot the horses: standard practice where I come from. But we can discuss tactics later, since the enemy seem to lack any effective tactics!”

  In less than ten minutes the chariots, now less than fifty in number, were again ready for action and moved slowly to the crest of the hill ahead of them. Nikolas took a deep breath as he put the newly-harnessed horses Imi and Alruth into motion, keeping tight reins to control their exuberance. At the top of the rise they could see that the enemy troops had disengaged and were falling back in retreat, but not broken. The rebel general had advanced his reserve troops perhaps a quarter of the way across the distance between the two hills. There they stood, to provide a shield behind which the retreating troops could regroup.

  To Nikolas’ right the Egyptian line was reforming slightly further down the hill. Enemy dead lay piled three and four high before where the shield-wall had stood. Egyptian soldiers moved amongst the still and the moving, killing the enemy wounded still alive with a quick stab of the knife and carrying both the dead and wounded of their own side to the rear.

  The Egyptian dead were stacked like cordwood for later burial and the injured carried to the tents at the rear where the surgeons worked. The ground underfoot was covered in gore and so drenched in blood that in places it had been turned into a red slush.

  The sun was high and water and food were carried forward for the troops. All drank deeply to slake their thirst, but few took food to refresh themselves. Large pots of water were carried up for the soldiers to wash the blood and gore from their arms and the handles of their weapons. Pot after pot of water, stained red with the blood of the enemy, was emptied on the ground and new pots brought forward. Ox-drawn wagons headed east towards the river a little over a mile away and returned with their waterpots full.