The Amarnan Kings, Book 5: Scarab - Horemheb

by Overton, Max

  Abrim and Dahvin were happy there as the noise and constant interruption by one or other of the children reminded them of tribal life. Two children came running when Abrim and Khu walked into the courtyard. A naked boy flung himself into Abrim's arms and a naked girl tugged on Khu's kilt and looked up at him with reddened pus-filled eyes. A younger child brought up the rear and howled when he saw his brother in Abrim's arms. The Shechite man laughed and picked up the toddler as well, carrying them both to the house where he put them down.

  "Hello Rea," he greeted the woman. "This is Khu. I brought him to look at Dahvin. He's a physician who dressed his wounds before we came here."

  Rea bobbed into a polite curtsey. "You are welcome in our household, honoured sir." She reached out and casually cuffed the girl hanging on to Khu's kilt. "Don't bother the fine gentleman, Pia. Go and do your chores. You too, Nakht," she told the older boy.

  "Wait," Khu said. He squatted beside the young girl and turned her face in his hands, peering at her eyes. "How long has she been like this?"

  "A month," Rea said. "Maybe more. We...we have no copper to pay you with, physician Khu."

  Khu pursed his lips for a moment and then smiled. "Boil some water and fetch me a clean cloth, a little vinegar, and...what herbs have you got?" Rea went inside the house and came out with a few earthenware pots. Khu looked inside, sniffed at them, and tasted one. "Nothing here that is useful outside cooking. Abrim, can I ask you to run down to the market and get a couple of herbs for me?"

  "Certainly. What do you need?'

  "A little p'at'rim, and sulo'tat if you can find it."

  "I've never heard of those. What are they?"

  "Well, that is a little hard to say. A physician may know them, or a herbalist. The first is a stringy plant with small grey, furry leaves, and the second has small white flowers with yellow centres, about the size of your fingernail."

  Abrim nodded. "I'll see what I can find. How much do you need?"

  "For this treatment, no more than a few stalks or flowers. But she will need treatment for a few days. Here..." Khu opened his wallet and took out a silver ring. "This should be enough." When Abrim had gone, he took the almost-clean cloth that Rea produced and dipped it in the boiling water, waiting for it to cool before wringing it out. He then dabbed at the crusted deposits around the girl's eyes, slowly softening them and wiping them away. The dirty cloth was put aside for washing later, and another one used to wipe off the last of the crust before warm boiled water was dribbled over Pia's face and eyes.

  "It feels better," the girl whispered.

  "You must keep them clean," Khu said. "I do not want you rubbing dirty fingers into them, even if it itches."

  Abrim arrived back with two small bundles of herbs. "Are these the right ones?"

  Khu examined them, rubbing a few leaves between forefinger and thumb, smelling the crushed foliage. "Yes, these will do. Now, Rea, can you grind some of these up into powder? Keep them separate though."

  He took the first pinch of powder from the p'at'rim plant and mixed it into a cup of warm boiled water, letting it steep for a few minutes before straining it through a piece of cloth. Khu got the girl's mother to slowly dribble this liquid into the girl's eyes. It stung a bit and she cried out, closing her eyes and turning away. Abrim sat down beside her and asked, "Do you want to hear a story?"

  Pia opened one eye and looked at him. "What about?"

  "About a very brave girl. I can only tell it to brave girls though. Can you be brave, Pia?"

  Pia thought this through. "What's her name?"

  "Her name was Scarab and she was a princess."

  "Alright, I'll be brave. Tell me the story."

  Abrim proceeded to tell a tale of a princess whose father died and she had to flee into the desert to escape a wicked uncle who wanted the throne. Here she wandered for many years having a series of adventures and defeating the armies the wicked uncle sent against her. Finally, he told how she had killed the wicked uncle, sending him to the underworld to have his heart judged.

  "How does it end?" Pia asked.

  "All her enemies were dead, so the brave princess married a prince and they ruled over the kingdom for ever."

  "I like that story. I think I want Scarab and her prince to rule over me."

  Rea dribbled the last of the liquid into her daughter's eyes and hugged her, giving Abrim a warm smile.

  While the story was being told, Khu had wrapped some of the powdered sulo'tat flowers into a twist of clean cloth and tied it off. Then he soaked the cloth and let it drain. When Abrim finished the story, he handed Rea the bag.

  "Have Pia hold it pressed to each eye in turn. When it dries out, soak it in boiled water and repeat the pressing. Every day, undo the bag and replace the powder with an equal amount of fresh powder, soak it and do the same as before. You should have enough for about five days."

  Rea prised her children away from the men and allowed them to attend to their friend Dahvin. The wounded Shechite man had slept through the visit so far and they had to awaken him. He opened his eyes and greeted his friends.

  "When did you arrive?" he asked weakly.

  "A few minutes ago," Abrim said. "Khu has been doctoring young Pia's eyes."

  "Useful man to have around." Dahvin tried to sit up and winced.

  Khu looked at his patient with concern. "Is the pain bad?"

  "I've had worse."

  Khu removed Dahvin's tunic and examined the bandages. The white linen was stained with blood and a yellow substance. Khu frowned and bent over the wounded man, sniffing at the cloth. "I need to change the bandages."

  "Is there anything wrong?"

  "I don't know. Help me."

  Abrim sat the patient up while Khu unwound the bandages, revealing two nasty arrow wounds, one in the flesh along the left side of the chest, the other lower down and more central. The flesh around both was red but the belly wound was angry-looking, and Khu frowned. He bent over the chest wound and sniffed, and then repeated his action over the belly wound.

  "Is he alright?" Abrim asked. "Why do you smell him?"

  Khu sat back on his heels and looked at Abrim's anxious face and then at Dahvin's pale one. "The chest wound is shallow and looks as if it is healing cleanly. The belly wound though, is deeper and...well, I cannot be sure if the intestine has been damaged. I sniffed to see if I could smell faecal matter."

  "And could you?"

  "No."

  "That's good, isn't it?"

  "Yes."

  "Then he is getting better?"

  "I hope so. The absence of a faecal smell indicates the intestine has not been cut, but I am not wholly satisfied the wound is clean."

  "Why should being clean or not matter?"

  "I don't really know, but Nebhotep always said that the cleaner the wound, the more likely it was to heal. I don't know why that should be, but I try to follow his advice. So, I need to clean these wounds again and bandage them again."

  Khu used the last of the boiled water; now cool, to carefully wipe out the wounds. Then he smeared honey onto them and bound up Dahvin's chest and belly with fresh bandages. He wiped the sweat from the injured man's brow.

  "Are you in pain, Dahvin?" The man nodded weakly. "Alright, I will give you a little poppy in wine. It will make you sleep, which is a good thing." He measured out a cup of unwatered wine and added a few drops of poppy tincture, holding the cup for Dahvin as he drank. Then he lowered him carefully onto his straw-filled mattress. Within minutes, the man was asleep and Khu and Abrim walked outside so as not to disturb him.

  The smell of fish was stronger in the courtyard and black flies swarmed over a large basket of fish near the gutting block. Rea was dealing with the catch quickly and expertly, while a wiry looking man stood close by, sorting through his nets. The man looked up as Abrim and Khu came out of the lean-to and raised an arm in greeting.

  "Abrim, my friend. You are well? What of your friend?"

  "Dahvin is...well, recovering, I thi
nk. This man is my friend and a physician by the name of Khu. He has just been examining him."

  The man walked over and looked at Khu keenly, before smiling. He put his hand on Khu's shoulder. "My name is Amenhotep...yes, same as the king. You are welcome in my house, but I have seen you before, I think."

  "I do not think so," Khu replied uncertainly.

  "Well, it will come to me, no doubt. You will both stay for a meal? Fresh caught river fish--perch. Good eating."

  "I would not want to put you to any trouble," Khu said, aware of the poverty of the family.

  "No trouble," Amenhotep said. "I caught ample fish today and besides, you have cured my little darling Pia."

  Rea fried the fish on flat stones heated in a fire and they all sat around eating the succulent flesh with their fingers and mopping up the juices with coarse barley bread. Afterward, they cleaned their palettes with crisp onions, and the adults drank weak beer while even the children were allowed a little of the beverage watered down a little more.

  They told stories. Abrim told of his adventures in the desert with the princess known as Scarab, and had Pia hanging on his every word while her parents listened indulgently. Amenhotep recounted tales from the river, of strange beasts and huge fish, and Rea told of the everyday drama of life in the city.

  "What about you, friend Khu?" Amenhotep asked. "What strange stories can you tell of your life as a physician?"

  "I have not been one long enough to know any, but before I was a physician I was a farmer and then a soldier with Smenkhkare's army."

  "In Nubia? I have heard tales of that land. Is it very strange?"

  "It is different," Khu admitted. "But the oddest thing I experienced was just before that when I visited the holy city of Iunu."

  "Iunu?" Amenhotep frowned and stared at Khu. "Why did you go there?"

  "I was escorting a young girl called Scarab...yes, Pia, the same Scarab from Abrim's stories. We were fleeing from Waset and we got a ride on a boat downriver. The lad dropped us off near Iunu because Scarab wanted to go there. We went into the temples and in the temple of Atum, Scarab saw the god and he spoke to her."

  Rea gasped. "The god? Really? Wh...what did he look like? What did he say?"

  Khu shook his head. "I don't know, and that is the strange part of the tale. Scarab and I were alone in a darkened chamber and she saw and spoke to the god, while I, standing next to her, saw and heard nothing."

  "Truly, the gods are powerful," Rea murmured.

  "There is another strange aspect to this tale, friend Khu," Amenhotep said. "Do you not know me, for I now recognise you?" He grinned. "I was the lad who ferried you and the girl to Iunu."

  "What? You know Khu and this Scarab?" Rea looked at her husband in amazement.

  "Are you sure?" Khu asked.

  "The girl had red hair. I remember because it is so uncommon, though I have seen it since in the north. You, I remember, were always arguing with her, but when she put her foot down, you obeyed, though she was only a girl."

  Khu nodded. "Yes, that sounds like Scarab."

  "And she is really a princess?" Amenhotep asked. "Or is that just a story from Abrim's mind?"

  "It is true enough. She is up at the palace now, a captive of General Horemheb. He means to marry her when he is crowned in Waset."

  "Oh, the poor mite," Rea murmured. "Is she very sad?"

  "Not sad so much as angry." Khu gave a wry smile. "Nobody tells her what to do, not even generals or kings."

  "I wish I could help her," Amenhotep said. "But I suppose it is not as simple as giving her a ride in my boat."

  Khu looked at Abrim and raised an eyebrow. "Actually, I think it might be."

  "Khu, be careful. I do not want to put these good people in danger."

  "Danger?" Rea asked. "Children, go inside now." Her frown quelled any disagreement they might have had. Pia led her brothers and sister away, out of earshot. "What danger?" she asked again.

  "No, you are right, Abrim," Khu said. "Forget I spoke, Amenhotep."

  "I cannot," said the fisherman. "If the princess is in trouble, I cannot turn away. What does she need?"

  "Passage across the river. To Iunu if possible, anywhere on the eastern bank if not."

  "I ask again," Rea persisted. "What danger? We have children to consider."

  Khu considered his answer, wondering whether to lie. In the end he shrugged and told the truth. It is in the hands of the gods . "Horemheb needs her to strengthen his claim on the throne. He is only a common soldier with the army behind him, but she is a daughter of Nebmaetre Amenhotep. He must either marry her or prevent anyone else marrying her."

  "So she must be forced into marriage or face death?"

  "Yes."

  "If we helped you, what would General Horemheb do to us?"

  "I do not know, possibly kill you."

  "And if you forced my husband at sword point?"

  "What are you saying?" Amenhotep demanded. "You want me to help them?"

  "Yes. You must help this poor girl escape, but Khu, you must promise to make it look as if you forced my husband. Can you promise me that?"

  "I would do all I can to protect him," Khu said, "But think what you are asking your husband to do. If soldiers overtake us, they may not ask who is to blame and who is innocent."

  "The decision is yours, husband."

  Amenhotep leaned over and squeezed his wife's hand. "Then I will do it. When?" he asked Khu.

  "As soon as possible. Horemheb will leave for Waset as soon as the dead king's body leaves the House of Death. That is in about five day's time."

  "It is the new moon in three days. The darkness will help our escape. Can you get Scarab out of the palace and down to the docks at midnight?"

  "I will find a way," Khu said. He embraced the wiry fisherman. "Thank you."

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  Chapter Thirteen

  Far to the west of the Great River, and deep into the southern plains, lay a vast grassland studded with thorn trees and teeming with wildlife. It was a land where the writ of the kings of the Two Kingdoms had never counted for anything, where tribes managed their herds of thin cattle and raided neighbouring villages for anything that could be carried away. A road led south from the Kemetu outpost of Setwah, a road that was scarcely more than a thin track after a day's travel. Ten days south of the outpost, a town was on the move, meandering slowly north at the pace of grazing cattle.

  Five thousand men bearing short stabbing spears and longer throwing ones, great ox-hide shields slung over their backs, trotted in the van, singing songs of praise, and scattering the wild game before them. They did not rely on wild beasts for food, however, for herds of cattle followed, driven on by naked small boys armed with sticks. Women followed in the dust kicked up by the hooves; women bearing food and water, infants, cooking pots and bedding. Every thing the army needed, it carried with it, and what it did not have it would take from the rich lands to the north and east.

  The men of this army came from several tribes deep in Nubia, forged together in a shaky alliance by a copper-coloured man who walked with a limp and whose body was a mass of scars. He walked at the front of his men, staring into the north with a hungry look. He carried no weapons, only a small shepherd's crook and a flail, non-functional symbols of the kings of Kemet. The man was Menkure, once the son of a minor noble at the court of Nebmaetre Amenhotep in Waset. When Djeserkheperu Smenkhkare was elevated to the throne alongside his half-brother, the heretic Waenre Akhenaten, he had chosen young men as his companions, and Menkure had been his favourite.

  Three years later, Smenkhkare's uncle Ay had tried to kill a king he could no longer control, and had almost succeeded. The king and Menkure had survived a crocodile attack and found themselves fugitives in Nubia. After another ten years, they had raised an army of tribesmen and hurled them at Waset in an attempt to win back the throne, but had been defeated, and the king killed. Menkure had fled south with the remnants of the army a
nd rebuilt it. He no longer had a king to follow, but he had the next best thing--a man who could easily be the son of that king. An army might place this boy on the double throne and then Menkure would be in a position of power once more.

  A tall, lean man wearing the armbands and ankle bands of authority loped over to the copper-coloured man and saluted, lifting his stabbing spear high. "Scouts report sign of the T'ere'k to the east of our path," the man rumbled in a deep voice. "Shall I dispatch a company to destroy them?"

  "No, leave them be, Kheremu," Menkure said. "Our target lies elsewhere."

  Kheremu rolled his eyes and a trace of contempt crept into his voice. "The T'ere'k are dogs and only women are afraid to meet them in battle."

  "How far to the east are they?"

  "Five days; three if my men run like the wind."

  "Three days there, a day to crush them and five or more back because your men are glutted from eating T'ere'k cattle and pleasuring their women. In five days I shall be at Setwah and three after that at Ta-Senet on the Great River. I will have need of your men then, not nine days later when they catch up."

  Kheremu glowered and his eyes measured the man standing before him.

  "Kheremu," Menkure said placatingly. "I have need of your strong right arm and sharp spear. I promise you, there will be much fighting in Kemet, and against worthier opponents than a tribe of farmers. You will have all the cattle you can drive before you and so many women you will struggle to rise from your bed to piss..."

  White teeth flashed in a blue-black face. "That is more women than you can count."

  "And they will all be yours, Kheremu, once we have taken Waset and set Kashtare on the throne of Kemetu. Do not be distracted by a handful of scrawny cattle when great riches lie before you."