Umtau knelt and, now almost of a height with Kiya, he gave her a wordless hug of comfort and reassurance. Eventually Kiya said, “There’s still much to do and many who need help. Come! Let’s return to the medical tents.” They turned and walked back, reporting to Sinhue who was still at work with several of the other doctors.
Sinhue was grey-faced with fatigue and also smeared from head to foot with the blood of his patients. He welcomed them with a smile and said, “It’s been a difficult day and night for everybody. I thank you for your efforts. At last the line waiting outside is getting shorter! Can you please help here? Thank you. Stand there. Yes, a little more pressure on that bleeding artery as I tie it off…good.
Next!”
T T T T
Near the village of Tushka, halfway to Abu Simbel, Pamose and the chariot force caught up with the enemy commanders. Six chariots moved slowly on the track ahead, the horses with their heads hanging down in exhaustion.
“Well! What do we have here?” asked Pamose rhetorically as his squadron quickly moved to overtake and then surround the smaller group, archers with arrows notched in drawn bows. “Sergeant! Bind the hands of these Wxa btnw scum! And water and feed their horses.”
The filthy and bedraggled officers were quickly bound amidst blows and kicks and marched on foot eastwards the short distance towards the river, while their hungry and distressed horses were watered and fed. The fourteen rebel officers occasionally stumbled and were lashed with whips to force them on as they were driven down a narrow pathway leading out of the desert and into the relative lushness of the fields near the river. “Move you treacherous sons of pigs! Don’t expect any sympathy here. I’d as soon feed you to the crocodiles now as later!”
As expected, when they reached the river they saw a war-galley gliding south. After attracting the attention of its crew Pamose and Nikolas boarded with the rebel officers and the boat began to head quickly north towards Aniba. The rebels were left dirty and dishevelled in the hot sun, denied water and food and tied together.
Nikolas did some preliminary questioning, and confirmed that they had taken Lord Osorkon and Lord Sennedjem and their senior officers, although it was difficult to understand the dry croaks that came from their parched throats.
It was late afternoon as the boat approached the stone wharf at Aniba and tied up. Osorkon, Sennedjem and the others were thrown unceremoniously onto the dock and kicked to their feet. Now unable to walk, they were dragged the short distance to the fortress. After passing through the gate in the massive mud-brick walls they proceeded to the courtyard beyond, now in the shade cast by the walls as the sun sank low in the sky. Minnakht and Kahun stood with several other officers and four guards in front of the door to the commander’s quarters as the rebels were thrown in the dirt at their feet.
With a brief word Minnakht ordered that each receive one sip of water. With another word of command the two most junior officers were beheaded, blood fountaining into the air before soaking the ground. The heads rolled to one side and the bodies left slumped on the ground. Minnakht was making a point to the remaining captives. With a wave of a hand Minnakht had them taken to the cellars.
With Osorkon and Sennedjem tied to chairs and gagged, another two of their officers were tortured slowly and painfully to death before their eyes, with never a question asked. When the screams finally ended and they were dead Kahun appeared, accompanied by Nikolas. The stench of blood and excrement offended the nose, but was less offensive to Nikolas and the others than the treachery of the rebels. Sennedjem was taken from the room to another place.
After a few minutes new screams began to be heard. Osorkon was removed from the chair, gag removed and was tied to the torture-table. One torturer, torso covered in blood from his previous victim, stood to one side heating metal tongs in a small brazier. Another rearranged bloody knives on a side table.
Kahun took the few steps to stand near Osorkon’s head where he could be seen. “Osorkon, believe me when I say that you will tell us all we want to know. You’ve seen what our friend here can do,” with a nod towards the torturer. “You will die like the rebel Wxa btnw scum you are; but you can make it easy on yourself or take the hard way.”
Osorkon spat at Kahun, but missed. “Fgn pr n nHH mwt. Nhp awt nDst!” he croaked.
Kahun nodded towards the torturer. “No, I think not! I’m not partial to having sexual relations with goats, and I object to people insulting my mother. The hard way it is! Proceed!”
The torturer turned, holding metal tongs glowing red with heat.
After a few minutes Nikolas had seen enough. Like most men of his time he had little compunction about death or killing, but he gained no enjoyment from it. The sadistic pleasure that the torturer gained from wreaking pain on the man tied to the table sickened him. It was clear from the look of distaste on Kahun’s face that he was also not enjoying the experience, but he was held there by a sense of duty which Nikolas lacked.
Feeling befouled and dirty Nikolas sought out the bath-house to try to wash his soul clean and then retired to sit morosely in his room before putting out the lamp and lying in the dark. Fortunately the cellar appeared to be soundproof, and his sleep was disturbed only by his thoughts and the mental vision of what he had seen there, interspersed with flashbacks from the battle fought the day before.
In the middle of the night Kiya arrived and after a perfunctory wash with a wet cloth lay on the bed next to Nikolas, having just returned on a boat loaded with wounded soldiers. She was soon in an exhausted sleep after tending the army wounded for most of the previous two days and the preceding night. Pepi lay curled up just inside the doorway, tail tucked under his nose and feet twitching in sleep.
It was close to dawn when Osorkon died, his mutilated and semi-flayed body at last ceasing to spasm in pain. He had indeed told all to Kahun; all of his accomplices were named and the plot disclosed.
When Nikolas rose in the morning Kahun gave him the details.
“Osorkon plotted with Ra-em hotep to support a coup against Ramesses. When Ra-em hotep died, in which Osorkon denied any involvement or knowledge, Osorkon decided to lead his own revolt to take the South by stealth. He was intending to lead his army in a lightning strike against the southern capital while Ramesses and most of his family were at Thebes for the burial of Ra-em hotep. They were to kill Ramesses and his sons. Osorkon planned to marry Queen Bent ‘anta, wife and daughter to Ramesses, to legitimize himself and his heirs through her royal blood and her positions as Great Royal Wife and God’s Wife of Amun, and have himself declared Pharaoh. As you had thought, the secret-police at Memphis were involved in the plot and hindered my investigation in the north, including arranging the attack on me and the murder of my friends.”
CHAPTER 16 – CONCLUSION
Year 53. Month Pa-en-pa-mekhru. 2nd Peret.
Late January 1222 BC
Nikolas and the others travelled north from Aniba to Thebes on the sleek war-galley Fist of Ptah. The passage had been swift with the river flow in their favour and with rowers being forced to the oars even when favourable winds had also stirred the sails. War-galleys were built for speed and not comfort, with the passengers having barely enough room to lie on the deck to sleep at night while the boat continued its relentless pace north even in the darkness. The galley had taken less than three days to cover the two hundred and fifty mile journey. Nikolas would never forget the passage through the canal at the First Cataract when the galley, sped by the passage of water rushing downstream in the narrow canal, had raced through the passage like an arrow out of a bow. Nikolas had felt he could reach out and touch the banks on each side as they passed in a blur.
Fist of Ptah reached Thebes at mid-afternoon. After quickly manoeuvring its way through the slow moving river traffic and ferries it turned left into the harbour and the short canal to the Malkata Palace. The large red flag of a Royal Messenger flying at the mast-head allowed the galley to tie up at the stone wharf alongside the Royal Barge, just
a few paces from the entrance to the palace.
Nikolas, Kiya, Pamose, Kahun and Umtau stumbled down the gangplank, muscles cramped and sore after days of confinement aboard the galley.
Pepi gambolled happily behind, glad to be away from the constant beat of the rowing-master’s drum, which had caused him to howl for days. Accompanied for the short distance to the gate by an honour guard of a dozen sailors, they had no trouble in gaining entry and obtaining an immediate interview with Zineb. Zineb wrinkled his nose in distaste as the dirty, dishevelled and smelly group were ushered in. He ostentatiously placed a perfumed handkerchief to his nose.
“Right, Zineb!” barked Nikolas. “We’ve got it all sorted out! When do we see Ramesses?” On entering the room Pepi’s hackles had risen and he stood between Zineb and Kiya, growling menacingly. Nikolas thought to himself ‘I really like that dog. He’s got good instincts’.
Zineb winced at both the Nikolas’ tone and the familiar use of Pharaoh’s given name. “Perhaps if you give me a full report, I might be able to fit you into Pharaoh’s schedule in two or three days,” he murmured.
Nikolas was tired. He was sick of his own stink. It had been impossible to wash properly on the galley and they had sweltered for days in the sun. He was sick of being lied to and of the extent of the disruption of his life, and not least the repeated attempts to kill him and his friends. He and the others had fought, bled and done things that still kept them awake with nightmares at night to serve Ramesses, while this time-server had stayed secure and comfortable in his own little world.
Usually Nikolas enjoyed the verbal sparring with Zineb, but not this time and his temper snapped. Had Zineb been wearing a tunic, Nikolas would have picked him up by the neck of his clothing and shaken him. Since Zineb just wore the traditional starched linen kilt and bare shaved chest, Nikolas leaned across the table and stuck his own face an inch from that of the Chamberlain. “You’ll arrange it now, or I’ll knock you flat right now! I’m tired and smelly and right on the edge of losing control. Get off your little arse and do some work for a change!”
Kahun and Pamose looked shocked at this cavalier treatment of a high government official. Kiya and Umtau were less used to royal etiquette and, although they doubted this was the usual way to get the Royal Chief Chamberlain’s attention; they grinned appreciatively.
“You useless prick!” continued Nikolas. “If we don’t see Ramesses today, he will have you staked out in the desert, smothered in honey for the ants to eat!”
Kahun thought this was a particularly inventive torture and considered that, based on recent experience, he should remember it for future use. Umtau grinned evilly.
There were no guards in the room. Zineb leaned back and wiped from his face the spittle that had flown from Nikolas’ mouth during his diatribe. His eyes glowed with hatred, but he recognized he was outnumbered and without support. “Tonight, at the thirteenth hour. You’ll regret this, Greek whoreson.”
“Perhaps,” replied Nikolas. “But it was worth it! Maybe next time you’ll remember that you serve Pharaoh, not yourself!”
Once outside Zineb’s office a slave showed them to the living quarters in the Western Villas of the palace. Kiya sighed with pleasure when she saw that the apartment allocated to her and Nikolas contained a large bath. Given the heat of the day, they ordered cold bathwater to cool off and spent an enjoyable half hour or so carefully soaping each other and splashing water before retiring to bed to enjoy themselves further.
After an energetic two hours and another quick cleansing bath, Kiya sat cross-legged on the bed with Nikolas lying comfortably next to her. Her pose unconsciously exposed her womanhood, still swollen with desire. Nikolas stirred yet again and toyed with her breasts. Kiya winced a little at even this gentle handling.
“Ah…Nikolas. I have something to tell you,” she said hesitantly. “Until now we haven’t had any time alone together for the last couple of weeks.” She paused for a long time; Nikolas waited patiently. “My courses are late,” continued Kiya “I believe I’m pregnan. I must had forgotten to take the herb when we were at Aswan.”
She looked anxiously at Nikolas.
Nikolas tried to keep the usual startled and trapped expression that men traditionally have on receipt of such news from showing on his face. Fortunately he was sober, so after a few frozen moments his brain began to work. He smiled, leant across and kissed Kiya first on her stomach and then on the lips.
“How late?” he asked.
“Three weeks. I’ve done the usual test with barley and wheat, but that was inconclusive.”
“Any morning sickness?”
Kiya frowned. “No, but I’m quite sure, and my courses are usually very regular.”
Nikolas mused to himself, ‘Well we’ve all been under a lot of pressure, which may have affected her courses by a few weeks. The barley and wheat test is rubbish, but we’ll see what happens over the next few weeks. But who cares? I’ve been considering our relationship for some time now. She’s still very young, but she seems to have made her own mind up. I don’t know whether I’m in love or not, as that’s not something I’ve done before, but I certainly have strong emotions for her. She’s intelligent, brave and very beautiful. And it’s time I stopped being a bachelor. If I’d been home in Crete my mother would have had me married off years ago in some political arranged marriage – and will do so in a heartbeat as soon as I return to Crete, if and when I do. If I marry Kiya then my mother won’t be able to marry me off to some woman I’ve never met.’
“And what did Lorentis say?” he asked.
“Nothing. It’s not appropriate to gossip with friends before telling the father!” replied Kiya primly.
Nikolas smiled widely and said, “Boy or girl, I’ll welcome any child to our family. Don’t resume the dose of silphium as it also causes abortions, and we’ll have to look carefully at any other herbs that you take to ensure they cause no problems.”
He paused and continued, “I’ve been remiss in not doing anything to formalize our relationship, which has lasted long enough in harmony. There’s no formal marriage ceremony with you Egyptians, so I’ve not worried much about this. But we Cretans are more formal, so we’ll have to do something about that. Kiya, you’re an intelligent, clever, brave and beautiful young woman. I will be proud to take you to be my wife…”
With a squeal of delight Kiya threw herself on Nikolas and smothered his face with kisses. Nikolas didn’t get a chance to say the ‘but…’. Kiya would have to learn that in due course. It was another hour before they were ready to present themselves downstairs, after yet another quick wash. The return to conjugal bliss was taking its toll on Nikolas’ stamina.
T T T T
At the thirteenth hour Nikolas, Kiya, Pamose, Kahun, Umtau, Lorentis and Khui presented themselves at the entrance to the Dsrw aXnwty Per aa Royal Private Audience Chamber. It was dark, with the corridor lit by lamps attached to the walls.
Pharaoh was still busy, so they were shown into a comfortable and well-appointed antechamber, seated and provided refreshments as they waited. Except for Umtau, who had a prodigious capacity for alcohol, they drank fruit juices rather than alcoholic beverages. Umtau drank three hin pitchers of highly alcoholic beer, with no noticeable effect whatsoever. Lorentis and Kiya chatted happily while Pamose related recent events to Khui. Nikolas dozed, slumped in a chair. After his marital exertions of the afternoon he needed all the rest he could get.
Finally a servant called them into the Audience Chamber.
Ramesses sat on his throne, looking tired and worn; Queen Bent ‘anta sat at his side, also looking jaded. It was late at night after had obviously been a long day for them. Chamberlain Zineb and Grand Vizier Rahotep sat on cushions to each side. There were two guards with spears just inside the door, facing inwards. The usual guards around the dais had been dispensed with in a gesture of trust. The evening breeze blowing through the open windows made the lamps and torches providing the light for the room flicker.
Shadows moved eerily on the whitewashed walls, and the painted wall-frescoes seem to move of their own volition.
At last ready to hear them, Ramesses nodded to acknowledge Nikolas’ party. Zineb gestured for them to come forward before the throne and they all made their obeisance; the Egyptians prostrating themselves before their Pharaoh and Nikolas standing and giving his usual half-bow.
Before Nikolas could make any comment, Ramesses said, “I hear that you bring word of a great victory in the South against Our enemies. I welcome you and the efforts you have all made. But first, I also hear that you, Nikolas the Cretan and my imy-r aXnwty Per aa, Royal Chief Chamberlain Zineb, have come to dispute. I will not have my important officials in dispute one with another. You will each rise and give to the other the ‘Kiss of Peace and Reconciliation’ and will henceforth work with each other in my service in harmony. Come! Now!”
Zineb, used to royal commands, rose immediately. Nikolas paused a few moments before he moved. They approached each other, embraced and kissed on each cheek. Nikolas restrained himself from wiping his mouth and cheeks afterwards. The looks exchanged remained unfriendly, but perhaps no more so than before the recent incident.
“Now Nikolas,” said Ramesses. “Tell me your news!”
“The plot against your Majesty had as many twists and turns as a cobra’s tail and was as deadly. Osorkon, Horwebbefer, Bakenmut, Sennedjem and their allies planned to bring down your dynasty, murder your royal self and the princes Khaemweset and Merneptah and install Ra-em hotep as Pharaoh.”
“How much did Ra-em hotep know?” demanded Ramesses.
“He was up to his grubby little neck in the plot,” replied Nikolas. “He was using his position as Supervisor of Royal Mines to plunder your treasury. He reduced pay and increased work quotas, skimming off the profits to fund his nefarious activities. Somebody commented to me once that a royal prince needs to receive no bribes, as he has all the land and riches he needs. That may be the case, but large-scale bribery of officials and army officers and the funding to raise and maintain an army of over two thousand men is beyond even the personal resources of a prince!
Murder in the Palace: A Nikolas of Kydonia Mystery Page 38