by Overton, Max
"I should get back. Can I get a meal off you first?"
"Certainly. Let me just take care of these prisoners." Jebu called to the armed guards around the captives. "Kill them all." The screams and pleas did not last long. Jebu turned on his heel and led the way back to his tent, where food and wine was waiting.
"You'll carry on trying to take the forts, then?" Ashraz asked.
"Of course."
"Be careful."
"As always." Jebu slapped his friend on the back. "Nothing to worry about."
"One more thing--where did you let that Shechite go?"
"Back where we were camped, near the Gulls."
"Did he have anything with him when you let him go?"
Jebu looked at him curiously. "Such as?"
"I don't know. Anything. Jewellery perhaps?"
"If he had a jewel, I would have taken it. He had a little silver which I took. Otherwise, he was just an ordinary Shechite tribesman--except for his horse. That was curious. It was a fine Kemetu mount, and a welcome addition to my stables."
"Did he take it with him when he left?"
"Just the robe on his back, and his sandals."
Ashraz took his leave and rode back the way he had come. Back at the Fort of Gulls he reconsidered his next actions and decided to probe a little further into Kemet, see if he could not pick up the trail of the last surviving Shechite. Who knows, maybe he found some way of hiding the scarab .
Back at the Fort of Owls, Jebu pulled the carved stone scarab from his chest and examined it again. He stared at the simple object for some time as if by concentrating he could discern its value. At last, he put it back into the chest, wrapping it carefully in a cloth. He took out a map of the area and studied the ground between the Fort of Owls and the next one, the Fort of Mice.
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Chapter Seventeen
A swift boat, its sails spread to catch the northerly wind, scudded into the docks at Waset and the messenger in it immediately set off for the city house of Lord Nebamen. The messenger bore a letter of authority giving him access to the nobleman and Nebamen received him within a few minutes of his arrival. The man entered the room and bowed, extending his arms in supplication.
"Well?" Nebamen said. "What is your news?"
"The golden barge with Horemheb has sailed from Ineb Hedj. They will be here in about three days, my lord."
Nebamen paled and looked to the door as if he expected the great general to come striding through it. "Y...you may go. Send my chamberlain in." When Nebamen's trusted servant appeared, his instructions were simple. "Bring me Lord Meryamun."
Meryamun's arrival was delayed a few hours and by the time he arrived, Lord Nebamen was pacing the floor and wringing his hands in anguish.
"Where have you been, Meryamun?" he squeaked. "Horemheb will be here in three days. We are lost."
"Well, we knew he was coming," Meryamun replied. "This is just a bit sooner."
"It is a disaster," Nebamen whined. "I am not king yet and now I never will be."
"Calm yourself, my lord. Despite this news the gods are with us, for I have just received news of the approach of another enemy--that of Menkure and his Nubians. In fact, that is why I was delayed. The city is abuzz with the news and as I speak, Paramessu is preparing to leave for Ta-Senet in the next few days with the Sobek legion and elements of the Amun."
"But I thought you were going to kill him."
"If necessary, I will, but only if he proves a hindrance to our plans. If he and his legion are absent from Waset, Horemheb will be isolated when he lands. All we have to do is arrest or kill him when he sets foot on the dock."
"I am sure it will not be that easy."
"Nothing worthwhile is easy, but it can be accomplished. I have the assassin ready to act. Luckily, I had not yet sent him north. Now he can do his duty on the city dock."
"So our plans are the same?"
"No. They cannot be left unchanged," Meryamun said patiently. "We were going to kill Paramessu and Horemheb at the same time. However, our task is made easier if Paramessu leaves the city with his legion and Horemheb comes to Waset. It may not be necessary to kill Paramessu. Menkure and his Nubians may do it for us, but even if they don't, by the time he gets back, you will be king and unassailable. He can only offer his allegiance and beg for his life."
"But we can kill Horemheb?"
"Yes. That will be necessary, and it must be done before most people are aware he's here. There is a story that in the heretic's day he foiled a rebellion single-handed by facing down the rebel army and ordering them to return to barracks. I am sure the account has been exaggerated but we should not take chances with that wily bastard."
"And Lady Beketaten?"
"She is your sister, my lord, though still only a woman. She can do nothing. Marry her if you choose."
"I will think on it. I do not need to marry her, as I am Nebmaetre's son, but it may be amusing to do so if she is beautiful."
"If there is nothing else, I will go and prepare for Horemheb's arrival," Meryamun said.
Lord Meryamun left Nebamen's city residence feeling less than happy with his choice of Kemet's next king. Horemheb may be a commoner but he is vastly superior to that ninny Nebamen. So why support him? It is not too late to change side. You know the answer to that, you fool. Horemheb is too astute to have you close to him, but you can rule through this unworthy son of Nebmaetre . He hastened to the city barracks to find out the latest news.
The barracks was the home of the Amun legion, but since the arrival of Paramessu, he had swept through them like a new broom. All the old malingerers had been dismissed and the remnants with the most ability had been recruited into a new legion stiffened with officers and men from the Sobek legion. On this campaign, Amun would be little more than an auxiliary unit, being severely undermanned, even before the cleansing.
Meryamun watched the soldiers drilling in the barracks courtyard and could not help but admire the clean lines of the Sobek men. The Amun legionnaires were fatter and softer, used to an easy life within the city walls, and undisciplined. They avoided work and stood about talking with their fellows whenever an officer was not looking, their weapons training was lackadaisical, and their attitude sullen. The Sobek men were very different. They were lean as hunting dogs, with a poised alertness that told Meryamun they were dangerous. He found a junior officer sitting in the shade, mending the leather harness of his shield.
"Good day to you, officer," Meryamun said. "It is hard to credit the improvement in the legion since you arrived."
The officer looked up. "And you are?"
"Lord Meryamun."
The officer scrambled to his feet and saluted. "I am sorry, sir. I did not realise who you were."
"No reason you should, Officer..." Meryamun let the question hang.
"Samut, sir. Leader of Ten Samut, Sobek legion."
"Well, Samut, I must say I am impressed with the improvements the Sobek legion has made in only a few days. I trust they will be able to face the rebels bravely."
"You know about them, do you sir? Well, I hope their old training will come to the fore when they face the charge of those savages. Even if they don't it might not be too bad. We'll have two thousand men and only four hundred of them old Amuns. The Sobeks can face down any army the rebel can hurl at us."
"We all have every confidence in you, Samut. You will be leaving some of the Amun legion behind then?"
Samut shook his head. "No sir, the rest proved incompetent or unwilling to declare allegiance to Lord Paramessu. They were dismissed."
"So who will look after the city?"
"The Medjay police, as usual. No doubt that force will be shaken up as well when we return, but it will suffice for now, I suppose. I don't like saying it, sir, seeing as you are a Waset man and a Lord, but discipline here is as dead as the last king."
"I am sure we are all very grateful to you, Samut. When do you leave?"
; The Leader of Ten hesitated for only a few moments. "It'll be all over the city by nightfall. We leave tomorrow, at daybreak."
Meryamun hid a smile and thanked the officer. He moved away, thinking hard. His next destination was General Psenamy's house. The General was at home, as he had to be, being under house arrest. His status as prisoner did not prevent him receiving visitors and the old man was grateful that not everyone had forgotten him.
"Come in, come in. Lord Meryamun, isn't it? Well, what a lovely day this is. Would you care for some wine? Oh, no wait, they have not delivered my wine yet. It will have to be beer. Will you take beer?"
"No, not for me, thank you," Meryamun said. "I wonder if I could have a talk with you, General."
"Delighted, I'm sure. Such a pity, you know. You spend a lifetime becoming knowledgeable in all matters military and then nobody wants your opinion. I do so miss young officers asking me to arbitrate on some matter or other...and these last few days...nobody but those guards who won't let me leave the house. Can I get you some beer? It is Lord Meryamun, isn't it?" The old general led the way into his courtyard and sat down under a shady tree. "Lovely day is it not?" he muttered.
Meryamun sat down close to the old man. "General, do you remember your oath of loyalty?"
"Eh? My oath? To Irimaat Ay? Of course."
"My Lord General, there is a plot to overthrow King Ay."
"What? Are you sure?" Psenamy rose to his feet quickly. "We must tell the guards outside. If we act fast we can crush it before it hatches."
"Sit down, General, please. Do not draw attention to us." Psenamy sat down again, his forehead creasing. "The guards outside are part of the plot."
"Who? Who has dared lift his hand against the king?"
"Lord Horemheb and his crony, Paramessu. Paramessu brought the Sobek legion into Waset and stripped the Amun legion of you and its most loyal officers. In a few days, Horemheb will arrive and crown himself king."
"That...that must not be allowed to happen. But how do I stop it? I am under guard."
Meryamun pretended to think. "If I could somehow free you, could you rally the loyal officers and men? Enough to oppose these rebels."
"Or die trying," Psenamy declared. "But we will be greatly outnumbered. The Amun legion, particularly just the loyal ones, would be overwhelmed by the Sobek."
"If say, Paramessu and the Sobek legion were to leave Waset...?"
"Then I could quickly restore order." Psenamy's elation died away into doubt. "He won't leave though, will he?"
"I believe he will. When he does, I can get you freed. Can you then reassemble the loyal Amun? Who would you need to contact?"
Psenamy considered his officers. "Padiamun, Harkhebi, Aapet..." He named another half dozen officers. "They can be relied upon."
"Would they listen to me if I were to see them? Prepare them for our counterstrike?"
"They would need proof that you are loyal. Here, take my ring as a sign." Psenamy removed an onyx ring with a carved jackal head on it and handed it to Meryamun. "Anyone who knows me knows this ring."
Meryamun left General Psenamy feeling slightly depressed. The General would undoubtedly be useful as a rallying point, but it was easy to see the man's mind was failing. As long as he can hold the scraps of the Amun legion together long enough to arrest Horemheb, then we can tip him into retirement--permanently . For now, there were the other officers to sound out.
Padiamun had been a Troop Commander, and Meryamun shuddered to think what life had been like under him. He had the petulant sour look to his face that told of an incompetent man with the power of life and death over his betters. Still , as Meryamun told himself, the man need only be useful for a few days .
"Do you recognise this ring?"
Padiamun nodded slowly. "Youse Lord Meryamun, ain'tja?"
"That is right. Are you loyal to your commander Psenamy?"
"They's retired 'im."
"And you. Would you like to regain your position?
"Whats I hafta do?" Padiamun asked suspiciously.
Meryamun told him, in as much detail as he felt the man would understand. He felt sure the man could be trusted to act for his own benefit, but Meryamun had no intention of trusting him with anything important. He left the ex-Troop Commander and continued on down the list of Psenamy's trusted officers. As he talked with them all in turn, offering them hope, he became depressed.
Paramessu dismissed these men for good reasons. What am I doing offering to have them reinstated? Is there no better alternative ?
By the end of the day, Meryamun had a dozen men ready to strike a blow for Psenamy and the return of the old, corrupt Amun legion. He had not told them of Lord Nebamen's plans to become king as he thought that would make them nervous. The gods know it makes me nervous , he thought.
The next day, Meryamun sounded out the Medjay police. The old commander, Usermontju, had crossed the river to his ancestors five years before and his son Userhet now ran the force. Usermontju was a man of the world and knew that a little gold in the right places made the wheels of officialdom move faster, but his son was cut from a different cloth.
"Your words could be construed as treason, Lord Meryamun. Why should I not clap you in chains now and send for Paramessu?"
Sweat broke out on Meryamun's brow and it took an effort not to wipe it away. "Paramessu left the city this morning for Ta-Senet." He met the Medjay commander's gaze levelly. "Treason is a strong term, Userhet. There is no king, so I advocate no treason against one."
"Then you tread a dangerous course. The seventy days of the old king's preparation are almost up. I have no doubt that Lord Horemheb will be in Waset shortly. He will bury the old king and take the throne himself. Your words today could lead you to the dungeon or death, Lord Meryamun."
"Depending on who becomes king."
"Is there any doubt? Horemheb has the strongest claim."
Meryamun hesitated, wondering how much of his plans he could safely reveal. "Lord Horemheb is a capable general and few would fault him on tactics and strategy, yet...well, what experience does he have as an administrator? You say Horemheb has a strong claim, but what if another was found who had a stronger claim? Would you back such a man?"
Userhet smiled. "Yourself, no doubt."
"No. I know my place in the scheme of things and I have no desire to grasp that thorny branch. What I mean is that Horemheb is a commoner and if he comes to the throne it will be by force of arms. Such a path to power destabilises a nation."
"You make sense, Lord Meryamun, but there is no other route. The line of Nebmaetre is dead."
"Not quite. I can think of two sons who are still alive, Lord Nebamen and Lord Raweret."
"Those useless fornicators?"
Meryamun smiled. "Now who is treading a dangerous course, Commander Userhet? As you have just said, your words today could lead you to the dungeon or death."
"You are not serious?"
"Ah, but I am. The succession is by no means settled, though certain parties would like to think it is. We are all of us no more than a knife blade from death and where are our ambitions then?"
Userhet licked his lips. "I seek to uphold the Law, Lord Meryamun, not dabble in politics. I will support whoever is king, for an anointed king is the Law of Kemet."
"And in the days leading up to the coronation?"
"I will maintain order on the streets of Waset, for that is my job. I...I will not interfere unless ordered to do so by my superiors."
Meryamun smiled again, sensing victory. "Your superiors are the king--but there is no king; and his Tjaty--and there can be no Tjaty without a king. You are free to make up your own mind."
"There is one other, the General of All the Armies, who was once Lord Horemheb."
"He is no longer that," Meryamun said. "That title was taken from him by Ay. I say it again, Userhet, you are free to make up your own mind."
"Then I shall. I will not interfere in the politics of the city. I will prevent disorder but
I will not take sides until the situation is resolved."
Meryamun's last task was a visit to the prison cells below the Great Temple of Amun. Here he found a condemned prisoner by the name of Teti, a married man with children who loved his family and who would do anything to provide for them.
"You are ready, Teti?"
The man got to his feet and stood to attention in the dingy and foetid cell. "Yes, my lord."
"You know what to do?"
The man scratched himself and ran a hand over the stubble on his face. "Yes, my lord."
"Do you have any questions? Now is the time to ask."
"When?"
"Tomorrow. The...person...is coming here. You will do it as he lands on the dock."
"How?"
"You will be given a dagger. You know how to use one?"
Teti nodded. "You said I could escape afterward. This is still true?"
"Yes, but you must make sure he is dead."
"Men have been known to survive a dagger wound."
"Then you must make sure he does not. Be certain of this, Teti, I will make sure your family is taken care of and give your body a decent funeral should you die, but you must do what you set out to do. If the man survives, you will be hunted down and killed--and your family with you."
"I will not fail...but how will I get close to him? I am a...a nobody."
"I will have the jailer bring in a sharp blade, soap and water, and clothes. Make yourself look presentable, for you will act the part of a temple official come to greet him and welcome him to Waset. You will bear a scroll for him and in the scroll will be your weapon."
Meryamun had posted a man on a fast horse north of the city. As soon as the golden barge bearing the dead king came into view, its oars threshing as it fought against the current, he rode for Waset, bearing the news. This gave Meryamun time to alert his co-conspirators and bring them together down by the docks. The initial stages of his plan passed almost faultlessly, though the two guards outside Psenamy's house died rather than disobey their orders. The old general gathered his officers and loyal men and marched them down to the royal wharf where the barge was expected to dock.