by Overton, Max
The chariot regiment paced the first group of Khabiru to move off toward the north, their belongings packed up and carried by camel and donkey, small herds of goats driven along by small boys. Seti was there too, having been given a small command by Lieutenant Raia. He took his duties seriously, and governed his small command with a granite fist despite his youth. On his first day off-duty, though, he again took his chariot out of Zarw, driving fast to overtake the slow-moving column. Two people rode in the chariot, for Seti had asked for and been granted permission for him to take Tuya, the daughter of Raia, out with him.
The young girl had gone willingly, for despite being two years older than Seti, she was very attracted to this handsome and commanding youth who also just happened to be the son of the Tjaty, Paramessu. When she had first seen Seti, she had thought him a boy, but quickly learned otherwise from her father.
"Mark my words, daughter," Raia had said. "That young man will go far. With the patronage of the king and with the Tjaty as father, he could become anything he wants. You could not make a better match."
Tuya was young enough to want to love and be loved, but she also knew that daughters of humble Chariotry officers rarely got to marry above their station unless extraordinary circumstances played into their hands. Fate has given her a good roll of the dice and she was determined to make what she could of it.
"Where are we going?" Tuya asked. She kept a firm grip on the wicker railing of the light two-person chariot as the horses pulled it rapidly over the stony desert. Seti steered them between the larger boulders that could shatter a wheel, guiding them effortlessly toward the dust plume of the Khabiru column.
"I want to show you the Khabiru migration," Seti replied. "It is not nearly as wonderful as an army on the move, but still impressive."
"I have seen an army on the march," Tuya said. "My father has shown me the troops when General Horemheb as he was then, marched past Zarw. It was interesting enough, I suppose. But I don't want to keep seeing it. Couldn't we go the other way and sit by the canal or the river?"
"Another time," Seti promised. "Look, there they are." The tail end of the column came in sight, a mass of men, women and children leading heavily laden donkeys and camels. The noise and the colours and the stink of animal and human sweat swept over the chariot and Tuya wrinkled her nose in a way that Seti thought quite delightful.
He pointed past the mass of people to several chariots wheeling and circling like swallows hawking for insects above the river. "That is my usual duty," he said. "We have to keep them moving, and keep them together."
Tuya stared as the chariot swept past. "How much further do they have to go?"
"Another few days. They will set up a camp around the largest well, and then we'll get them working on the forts."
"The women and children too?"
"Of course. Children will gather earth and straw, the women will draw water and mix the mud, and the men will do the lifting work."
"It sounds like very hard work. How much will they be paid? As much as a household servant?"
Seti laughed. "They won't be paid at all. They are slaves and will be grateful for their bread and onions."
"I didn't know the Khabiru were slaves. I thought they were just, oh, jewellers and woodcarvers and such like."
"Maybe that's what they did before, but the king has decreed they are slaves now, so slaves they shall be."
Seti urged the horses on and the chariot pulled away from the Khabiru column, arcing out toward the encircling chariots. One of them pulled away and matched speed and course, slowing to a walk.
"Seti," the driver of the other chariot said. "I did not look to see you here today." He nodded at Tuya and smiled. "Hello Tuya."
Tuya smiled back, but Seti saluted a superior officer. "Menent, I thought we'd take a look at the march."
The officer smirked and looked at Tuya as he said, "Yes, that's right, I'd forgotten that you have a special connection with these people. Well, enjoy yourselves." Menent shook the reins and pulled away, back into his place in the guarding squadron.
"What did he mean?" Tuya asked.
Seti just shook his head and angled their course away from both the marching people and the other chariots. A slight easterly breeze blew the dust plume away, so he took them east until the column was no more than a smudge in the distance. A rocky outcrop threw short shadows over the sand and Seti guided the chariot into the relative cool. He helped Tuya down and spread a cloth for her, unpacking bread and roast chicken and a little wine from a basket. When he had watered the horses, he came and sat beside the young girl.
Tuya nibbled at her food but looked askance at the silent youth beside her. "Last year, Menent asked my father if he could court me. I told him no."
Seti grunted. "His look was overly familiar, I thought."
"He does not like me now."
"Oh, he likes you well enough, Tuya. I think it is now me he does not like."
"Is that why he said...what he said?"
"Very likely."
"But what does it mean? What did he mean by a special connection, and why should it matter?" When Seti did not reply, she timidly added, "Is it something shameful?"
"No." There was a long silence, during which Tuya cursed herself for pursuing the subject. At last, Seti sighed. "I just did not think he knew, or that anyone knew apart from my mother, my father and King Horemheb. It seems my dreadful secret is almost common knowledge."
"If it is a secret," Tuya said carefully, "You do not have to tell me, though I would never repeat it."
"It scarcely matters now. My mother is part Khabiru."
"Truly?" Tuya sounded surprised. "Lady Tia does not have the look."
"Lady Tia is not who I mean. She is not my birth mother, only my step-mother."
"Oh. Then...then who is your mother?"
"Lady Beketaten."
Tuya shook her head. "I don't know her. Is she from Zarw?"
"She was the daughter of Nebmaetre and Queen Tiye, sister to Akhenaten, Smenkhkare and Tutankhamen, and niece of Ay. She had a...liaison with my father and deserted me shortly after I was born. I have not seen her since."
Tuya's mouth fell open and she stared at Seti for a few moments before realising her expression was not an attractive one. "You have royal blood," she breathed.
"Yes. My father once told me I had a better claim to the throne than Ay, which was why I must keep it a secret or I would quickly die. I suppose I have a better one than Horemheb too, but he has never been anything but polite to me. For my father's sake, I suppose."
"What is she like?"
"I've never met her, and my father does not talk about her much. I think he was hurt when she left him to go and fight for her brother Smenkhkare. She was quite a warrior once and even took the name of Scarab. Did you know King Horemheb married her?"
"Your mother is Queen?"
"No, Horemheb did not make her queen. She will be just one of doubtless many wives."
"Even so, you are of royal blood and now related to the king. Why, you...you could even become king one day."
"Do not speak of it," Seti said sharply. "I do not set my gaze that high. I would be a general in the king's army, like my father, and that would satisfy my ambition."
"There is nothing wrong with wanting more."
Seti turned and stared at the young girl beside him. He reached across and gently freed a lock of hair that had stuck to her forehead. "Tuya, listen to me," he said softly. "Such talk is dangerous at the best of times, doubly so when the country is unsettled. I have no reason to distrust King Horemheb, but if he got word that I strove for more, I might be in danger. I am content to forge a career within the army, Tuya. If that is not enough for you, tell me."
"If that is what you want, Seti, it is enough for me," she replied simply.
"Then I too am content." Seti smiled and changed the subject, regaling the young girl with stories from the Chariot squadrons. Tuya had heard many of them before, from her father
, but said nothing, enjoying the sound of his voice.
He only referred to the previous subject once more, as they rode back to Zarw later in the day. Seti broke a period of silence with a half heard mutter.
"The King wants me to carry dispatches to my father in Waset. I mean to see my mother in Ineb Hedj on the way."
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Chapter Twenty-Six
The Amorite army ceased its headlong flight past the line of border forts, its northward progress becoming by degrees haphazard, the men collapsing into exhausted huddles. Many men had thrown their weapons away in an effort to run faster and all were thoroughly demoralised. Jebu knew that they were no longer an army and he was no longer a general. In a short time, he realised, he would no longer even be alive. King Aziru was not noted for his mercy and he had, before now, killed officers who failed him less efficiently than he. Nobody had lost an army before, but it was likely that Aziru would become quite inventive when it came to separating a man from his life.
Jebu knew he had only two courses of action if he wanted to continue to see the sun--flee to the hills immediately and become a bandit; or kill Aziru. The first would be relatively easy--he had done it before, but the other would most likely end in his own death. The one thing that made assassination a possibility was that the king was as yet unaware of the defeat of his army. If Jebu left for Taanach immediately, there was a chance that he could outrun the news and take the king by surprise.
A pity I do not have the powers of that Scarab witch. I do not even have her talisman any longer . Jebu shrugged. No great loss. It would not work for me anyway .
He had fled the battle on foot but managed to find a horse standing shivering beside its former owner, a man with an arrow in his back. He took one and left the other and soon outdistanced his pursuers. Now he was in southern Kanaan, putting distance between himself and the scattered remnants of his army.
What do I do ? he wondered. I'll live longer as a bandit, but there is no honour in it, little gold and less satisfaction. On the other hand, it would be sweet to see Aziru's face as I plunged the dagger into his belly .
The horse carried stale bread and a little watered wine in a bag, so Jebu refreshed himself as he rode. He outdistanced other refugees from the south and continued on north and east into the hills, still unsure of what he should do.
Could I get close enough to kill him? Possibly, with luck. What are my chances of getting away after? Almost none--or less . Jebu shook his head and rubbed his jaw with the stump of his right arm. Still, what does it matter? I'm over forty and my bones ache in the cold weather. I have one arm and the only skills I have are to lead men and use a sword left-handed. I might as well be dead, but it would be good to achieve something first . He grinned, mirthlessly, and turned his horse's head toward Taanach.
Jebu rode as fast as he could push his dispirited mount, knowing that his best chance of success was to beat the news of the defeat to Taanach. Nobody would be keen to bring the bad news to the king as he had been known to behead unwelcome messengers or break them and hang them from the walls for the crows to eat their eyes. He thought he had about ten days before the word would spread that far north and get carried into the king's fortress. It should be enough. It will have to be enough. But how do I gain access ?
Jebu had tried to kill Aziru once before. He plotted well and had gained an audience with the king, but as he made the bid he was betrayed by the man he thought his friend, the king's spymaster, Ashraz. The spymaster had been in the king's employ as long as Jebu could remember and the cunning credited to Aziru came mostly from the mind of Ashraz. The time he had tried to kill Aziru and been betrayed had been the result of a plot hatched between king and spymaster to draw Jebu back into the fold. It had worked too, and Jebu had become the foremost Amorite general once more.
That won't work again. Not that I would trust Ashraz, even if I knew where he was. He's a king's man and if he's at Taanach, I might as well give up .
Ashraz was not at Taanach however, as Jebu found out eight days later when he gained access to the city. Jebu was known in the city, so he could not ask openly, but as Ashraz had many informers, it was easy enough to pose as one of them. An officer of the palace guard sneered at the mutilated beggar in front of him and said the spymaster was away.
"You can tell me your news, and I'll pass it on when he returns."
"Will you pay me what it is worth?" Jebu whined.
"Ha! No. You can take that up with Ashraz."
"Then I think I will wait."
Jebu left the palace again, but his eyes roamed everywhere as he went, noting guard positions and access points from the city. Ashraz was also head of security in Taanach, so it would not be easy to get into the inner palace. If he still had two hands he would have tried the walls. Though steep and high, it would not be impossible for a determined man to climb them, provided the guards could be distracted. However, he was not going to risk it with only one arm.
Gold might buy his way past the guards, but it would take more time than he had. Any day now, any hour, the news of the defeat could arrive from the south, and when that happened, the call would go out for Jebu to come to Taanach and give an accounting to the king. Once his name and face was at the forefront of people's minds, it would be that much harder to kill Aziru. At the first hint of such news, he would flee at once.
Jebu reasoned that the only sure access was through the servant's quarters, and even that would not be easy. If he had time, he could no doubt get employment in the kitchens or laundry, but even there able-bodied men were preferred over cripples. He had no favours he could call in, so there was really only one option--that of nightsoil carrier.
Three hundred men and women, king, courtier and servant, produce a lot of excrement, and rather than have a central midden stinking up the palace as some kings had, Aziru's father Abdishirta had set up a system whereby every few days the combined nightsoil was transported from the palace on the backs of lowly servants and dumped outside the city walls. It was not a popular job, and the Overseer in charge was always looking for new workers. Jebu, suitably disguised, joined up and was soon on his way into the palace, a stinking, encrusted jar strapped to his back.
There were many jars distributed through the palace and adjoining quarters, and the nightsoil workers moved through them steadily, pouring the contents of the midden-jars into their own carrier and taking them out. After two or three journeys to the servant's quarters, Jebu hung back and, when no-one was looking, took the passages toward the palace living areas. Few people even looked at him as the nightsoil carrier was part of the everyday scenery. He stopped and emptied a few pots in case anyone wondered why he wandered empty handed through the halls and corridors, and he made it all the way up to the royal suites before anyone sought to challenge him.
"Stop right there," said a guard, levelling a spear. "What business yer got here then?"
His partner laughed. "Shit. That's what his business be. You stink, fellow. What's yer name?"
"Perez," Jebu said sullenly. "I was told to come here and empty pots. Do I have to go back to my employer and tell him I can't do it because you won't let me?"
"We didn't say yer couldn't," said Guard One.
"Only that yer had ta stop," said Two. "I gotta pee, so kneel dahn and I'll add to yer load."
Jebu grumbled but did as he was told. Two straddled him and aimed a jet of urine into the open neck of the waste jar. His aim was not very good, though it might also have been malicious humour on his part.
"Curse you, you've splashed me," Jebu cried.
The guards roared with laughter as Jebu clambered to his feet, brushing distastefully at his wet tunic.
"Think yerself lucky I didn't want to take a shit," said Two.
"Now get orf before I has a go meself," One said. He prodded Jebu with the haft of his spear and Jebu stumbled off down the corridor, muttering imprecations.
Jebu rounded a corner and strai
ghtened, putting the guards from his mind. Their fun might in fact have helped him as no-one would willingly get close enough to recognise him. He was near the king's quarters, he knew, but was not absolutely certain. The king may well have changed suites or even be elsewhere at this time of night, but Jebu did not have much time. He found a secluded corner and eased the jar off his back, slopping some of the contents in the process. Checking again that he was not observed, he plunged his left hand into the noisome contents and after feeling around in the muck, drew out a dagger. Excrement stuck to his arm, so he used a wall-hanging to wipe the worst off. Then tucking the blade under his tunic, he picked up the jar one-handed and crept on.
I must be in the wrong part of the palace. Where are all the guards ?
Aziru would certainly be guarded, but after the pair who had taken pleasure in soiling him, there had been no others.
Either I am in the wrong place, or Aziru is very sure of himself .
Jebu put the jar down and slowly opened a door. It was dark inside the room, and cold, so he knew it was unused. He closed the door and tried another a few paces further along the stone corridor. There was a burning brazier in this one and rush lights, but it was unoccupied. Where is he ? A third and fourth room were also empty, and Jebu started to think he should give up and make more inquiries about the king's whereabouts before resuming his search. A door opened and a bearded man dressed in rich robes looked out at the dishevelled figure of Jebu.
"Ah, there you are." The bearded man wrinkled his nose in distaste. "A novel disguise, General Jebu, but I think we can dispense with it now. Leave your jar at the door and come inside." He turned and disappeared into the room.
Jebu followed, his hand on the dagger inside his tunic. He looked around cautiously, but there was no-one else there, just the bearded man who now stood by a brazier, warming his hands.