by Overton, Max
"You were expecting me, Prince Abi-Hadad?"
"You could scarcely hope to move through Taanach or the palace completely unrecognised, General Jebu. Even your mission was not difficult to discern."
"And what is my mission?"
"Why, to assassinate my father, King Aziru before he has you recalled and killed."
"Why would he do that?"
Abi-Hadad smiled. "I know of the disaster at the forts. Do not look so surprised, General Jebu. I have my own sources of information and knew of your defeat two days ago."
"I do not understand. If you knew two days ago, why is the city not in an uproar? Why has the king not sent for me?"
"Ah, that would be my doing, Jebu old friend."
Jebu swung round to see Ashraz slip through the door. "I might have known," he groaned.
"There comes a time when a man must look to the future," Ashraz said. "King Aziru has been ill for a long time and, let us be candid, not quite right in the head. He has the strange idea that Prince Abi-Hadad here is plotting to become the next king..."
"Where would he get an idea like that?" Jebu muttered.
"...and has named his brother Zuntil the heir," Ashraz went on. "Now, that is a very poor decision and I would like to correct it. That is where you come in."
"I doubt I could sway the man's mind," Jebu commented dryly.
"Probably not, but I had in mind one of your other talents."
Jebu grimaced. "And why me? You must have a hundred men you could call upon."
Ashraz smiled and walked across the room to the heavy cedar table and perched himself on its edge. "The transition between reigns is such a delicate time, Jebu. If I, or any of my men, tried to influence the succession, Abi-Hadad's reign would be tainted with suspicion right from the start. However, Aziru would certainly execute you when news of your defeat broke, so no-one would look further for a motive. You are the ideal assassin, and there is the added bonus that you want to do it."
Jebu considered the spymaster's words. "If I am the logical suspect, why did you not just leave me to carry out my plan? Why stop me and explain?"
"There was a risk that you would be too good at it. If Aziru dies with a dagger to the heart and nobody knows you did it, then Zuntil will accuse Abi-Hadad of the deed and Amurri is plunged into civil war."
"You want me to kill him publicly, or wait to be caught? Not a chance."
"I can greatly increase your chances of success, while safeguarding my master's interests."
"I was doing well enough until you interfered."
"That smelly disguise? Oh, it's good enough for out here, but you'd have to pass two sets of guards to get to Aziru--who is in another wing of the palace, by the way. The guards are conscientious in their efforts to protect the king."
"But you could get me past? How?"
"We shall come to that. You agree?"
"To be the sacrifice? No."
"Ashraz, I thought you said..." Abi-Hadad started to say.
"Please, my lord." Ashraz held up his hand and the prince subsided. "Jebu, you came in here prepared to sacrifice your life for a chance of killing Aziru and a slimmer one of escaping afterward. Nothing has changed, except that I can turn chance into certainty. You will kill Aziru, and you will escape. I can make sure of it."
"How?"
Ashraz told him.
"That's it? Nobody will believe me. Zuntil is the heir. What does he stand to gain?"
"Prince Abi-Hadad has long been the favourite. It came as a shock when Zuntil was named heir. Given time, Abi-Hadad could well gain his father's trust and reverse that decision."
"So wait for him to do so. Why take this risky course?"
"King Aziru is very sick, though few people know that. It is doubtful he will live more than a month or two. Of course it would be better if Abi-Hadad was heir when he died, but if Zuntil is, war will certainly result."
"If he is the named heir, then why...?"
"Because if he is the heir I will instantly wage bloody war against my brother," Abi-Hadad said. "I will not allow him to take the throne that is rightfully mine."
"Whereas if I kill him while Zuntil is the heir...?"
"As soon as he is dead, a carefully placed assassin will strike down my brother."
"Why not just do that? It seems a simpler solution."
"If my father still lived, he would know I had given the order and he would name another heir. Or he might try to remove me permanently."
"Gods," Jebu muttered. "I am not suited for such convolutions. Give me an army and a worthy adversary any day."
"You'll do it?" Ashraz asked. Unseen by Jebu, the spymaster's hand gripped the haft of his dagger.
After a moment's consideration, Jebu nodded. "When, and where?"
"Tonight, in the Great Hall. People must see you do it and must hear your words."
"And you swear I can escape afterward?"
"Yes, the rear door of the hall will be unguarded, the eastern gate manned by my men, and a horse waiting there for you."
"I'm not sure why I should trust you, Ashraz. You have betrayed me before."
"So I have, old friend, but think back. Every time I did, it was so that you would benefit." Ashraz smiled broadly. "Why, you owe your present position to my last 'betrayal'."
An hour later, Jebu stood with Ashraz outside the Great Hall. Soldiers were everywhere, and a large number of courtiers and ambassadors thronged the passages, all desirous of seeing the king or witnessing his decisions. A few looked sideways at Jebu, some recognising the famous one-handed general, others catching the rich aroma of waste that still clung to him despite clean clothes and soapy water. The king's chamberlain called the meeting to order and all who had business within the Hall filed in and took their positions. Ashraz and Jebu joined them.
"We are fifth," Ashraz said quietly. "When I step forward to speak, you join me and strike immediately. The unguarded door is to the right at the rear. You see there are no guards nearby?"
The first two cases passed swiftly, but the third dragged on with accusations and counter-accusations. King Aziru listened patiently and in the end made his decision. The fourth case was presented, and Jebu started to take deep breaths, willing himself to calm. He placed his hand surreptitiously within his tunic and felt the sharpened dagger.
The chamberlain called out, "Ashraz...and General Jebu."
Jebu looked up with surprise and froze, believing them found out. Ashraz stepped forward, plucking at Jebu's sleeve, pulling him along until he remembered his purpose.
Aziru's eyebrows lifted at the mention of his General's name. "Jebu? I did not look to see you here. Why have you left your station? Have you come to report a great victory?"
Ashraz pushed Jebu forward. "My lord king," he said, seeking to draw Aziru's eyes toward him. "As Head of Palace Security, I have come to petition you for gold with which to buy..."
"Yes, yes," Aziru said impatiently. "You always want gold, but I see precious little result for my expenditure. Why is Jebu here? Come; tell me why you have left your station."
Jebu stared back at the king, his heart hammering inside his chest. "I...I have...have come to...to..."
"You are unusually tongue-tied, even for a soldier." The courtiers laughed politely, trying to gauge the king's mood. "Well, I hope you fight better than you talk."
"Zuntil..."
"What?"
"Zuntil sends this," Jebu cried. He drew out the dagger and sprang forward, scaling the steps of the dais and hurling himself onto the king.
Aziru shrank back, his mouth only opening a finger width before the blade plunged into his belly, slicing through fabric and flesh with ease. The king screamed and fell back on his throne. "Help...murder..."
The guards and courtiers stood still in shock as Jebu twisted the dagger, drew it out and rammed it into Aziru's chest. The king's whimpering cries turned into a gurgling moan, and then silence. Jebu stepped back, his hand bloodied, and stared at the dead man on the thron
e of Amurri. The dagger clattered to the stone floor. "For Zuntil," he whispered, and as cries of shock and horror arose, he turned and ran toward the door. The guards nearest his escape route stood unmoving still, as if they would just stand back and watch him run past. Jebu felt a surge of relief and glanced back toward the throne. Several men had gone to the king's aid, but Ashraz stood there watching his flight. Then he gave an almost imperceptible nod and movement of his hand, and the nearest guards started forward dragging their swords out.
Jebu knew Ashraz had betrayed him again, probably to his death, but he lunged forward anyway, grabbing the nearest guard's sword hand with his left and ramming the stump of his right arm into the soldier's face. The man dropped his sword and Jebu scooped it up and parried a descending blow from another guard. He sidestepped, lunged, parried again, and pushed one guard into another, leaping over their bodies as they fell sprawling.
He expected now that the door was locked, or that more guards hidden beyond, but Jebu kicked it open to find the corridor empty. Behind him, he heard more guards running, and a spear clattered against the wall near him. He dashed through and down the corridor, with men in pursuit. Another spear whiffled past his shoulder, tugging at the fabric of his tunic. He shoved the sword into his belt and snatched up the spear from the floor some twenty paces further on.
The passage turned and Jebu, looking back to see three men following, stopped as soon as he was out of sight and stabbed the front man with the spear as he came round the corner. The others yelled and hung back, so Jebu ran again. The passage opened into what appeared to be a guard room, with a single occupant sitting warming himself at a brazier. Jebu pushed the man and kicked the brazier over, scattering its contents, and then out through the door into the courtyard.
Night cloaked him, but he could hear uproar from the palace and knew that very quickly the entire military presence would be searching for him. His only hope was to get into the city, though even that would only afford a temporary respite. With the king dead at his hand, and his erstwhile allies having betrayed him, Jebu knew he could likely measure his life in minutes, or at the very most an hour.
Well, I knew that when I came. I allowed myself to hope and that was stupid .
Jebu slipped into the kitchens and tried to look inconspicuous. People were gathered in groups talking, wondering about the disturbance in the palace. He picked up a basket of vegetable scraps and worked his way toward the disposal chute in the outside wall. A smelly, slippery stone slope led to a drop of unknown proportions, but Jebu did not hesitate. He tipped the basket of scraps down the chute and followed it, sliding feet first and then falling forward through the air for a terrifying moment before plunging into a huge mound of stinking refuse.
Jebu pulled himself out of the soggy mess and looked about cautiously. The wall he had fallen through had been the outer one and he was now outside the city, rather than still inside as he had anticipated. Above him, torches blazed in the night and the sound of voices carried to him on the refuse heap.
Time to move, Jebu. Some servant is sure to have seen me take the chute, and as soon as the soldiers know they'll be out after me .
He scrambled down the slope and, picking bits of rotting vegetable out of his hair and clothes, set off towards the shadowed hills.
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Chapter Twenty-Seven
Tjaty Paramessu took his duties seriously, and as soon as King Horemheb was safely on his way north, he set about pacifying the city of Waset. The day's delay, however, was enough for Lords Nebamen and Raweret to escape to their country estates, taking with them their families and most of their retainers. Paramessu took out his anger and frustration on such other noblemen as were implicated in the plot but who had not fled. Meryamun was very helpful here, pointing out this lord and that as having supported the rebels physically, others that had funded the uprising, and yet others that had given tacit approval. Paramessu acted swiftly, incarcerating many, executing a few, and putting the city under military rule.
Much to Iurudef's disgust, he left the legion commander in Waset with orders to rule with a granite fist and took the bulk of the Sobek legion south with him to meet the threat from Nubia. Reports were again filtering north that Menkure and the reputed half-Nubian son of Smenkhkare, Kashtare, were raiding the desert settlements, dealing out death and destruction. They had surged north a month before and captured great herds of cattle before disappearing into the wilderness. Now they were back again, and this time seemed more determined to bring the Kemetu forces to battle. Paramessu resolved to give them what they wanted--on his own terms.
The thousand men of the Sobek legion marched south along the east bank of the Great River and crossed to the city of Ta-Senet on the west bank. The mayor of the city came out with his councillors to welcome the legion that had come to liberate them, but was less than pleased when the Tjaty informed him he would strip the city of fighting men and continue westward toward the Oasis of Setwah.
"My lord Tjaty, you will leave us defenceless." Mayor Mentmose wrung his hands and looked to his councillors for support. They refused to meet his eyes, not wanting to argue either side.
"You will not need defences," Paramessu said. "I will meet the rebel force and crush them."
"But my lord Tjaty, what if...er, what if they get past you?"
"If they get past me," Paramessu rejoined grimly, "Your defences would not stop them even if fully manned. If you are that worried we might fail, you are welcome to come with us and swell the ranks."
The mayor flushed and left, muttering excuses. Paramessu ordered his Troop Commanders Huy and Seneb to go through the city and pull out as many able-bodied men as they could find.
"Remember we have to arm them too, so see what you can commandeer."
A day later, the Sobek legion marched out, three hundred men stronger, its supplies replenished and the men rested. Paramessu sent out scouts with orders to avoid engagement at any cost. He spoke to Huy and Seneb about his instructions.
"Menkure knows we march against him but he probably does not know our strength. He had five thousand men or more a month ago, and we have perhaps a quarter of that. If a scout gets captured and talks under torture, they will know our weakness and act accordingly."
Seneb looked worried. "How can we overcome those odds, sir?"
"We are outnumbered, but not as badly as you might think. Our foes are Nubian tribesmen, not soldiers. They have a competent Kemetu leader, Menkure, but I doubt he has had much success instilling discipline into his followers. That is our biggest advantage."
"I have no worries about the Sobeks, sir," Huy said. "But those Ta-Senet men are just farmers."
Paramessu grinned. "What were you before you joined up?"
"A farmer, sir," Huy admitted. "But I learned fast. These men don't have the luxury of time to learn a soldier's trade."
"Well, we'll just have to do what we can in the time we have."
Paramessu sent a hundred men ahead of the main column. He made sure they were experienced soldiers and gave them explicit instructions. "You are our first line. You will be the first to meet the enemy, but I do not want a blow struck. You are to fall back in good order while maintaining contact with them."
"Sir, we knows how to fight," protested the Leader of One Hundred. "We don'ts need to run from them."
"I know you do, Khons, and you'll get your chance, I promise, but for now I just want you to withdraw slowly, drawing them after you. Fall back too slowly and they'll swamp you, too fast and they'll stop and wait for the rest of their fellows. I don't have to ask you if you can do it, because I know you can, and I don't have to ask you if you will do it, because you are Sobeks and Sobeks can do anything."
Khons and the men in the Hundred cheered, and set off along the road with great enthusiasm. The rest of the Sobek legion followed along several thousand paces further back, and the Ta-Senet men, under a steady officer, followed in the rear. The farmers were relucta
nt, having been pressed into a war that was not of their choosing, but the officer, Sepi, encouraged them.
"None of us was much whens we started, but we learned 'cos we 'ad a great teacher--the best. This 'ere Paramessu is a top general an' a good fighter, an' yer know whats is even better? 'E don't waste 'is men. Some officers woulds be putting youse in the front line, thinking, 'thems is only farmers. It don' matter if they is killed', but not Paramessu. Not Paramessu, I says. 'E be a right gen'l'man an' 'e'll do right by yer. Stick wiv him, do as 'e says, and yer'll be back wiv yer fam'lies right soon."
Seneb found Paramessu during the slow march westward. He matched stride with the Tjaty and waited for him to give permission to speak. After a short time, Paramessu stopped wrestling with the problems of facing a larger enemy and nodded to his Troop Commander.
"Sir, do you have a plan?"
"Yes, a very simple one. We find Menkure and his army and we crush them."
"Yes sir. Er, how do we do that?"
"Well, I wouldn't go spreading the tale, but I'm not really sure at the moment."
"Then why are Khons and his hundred ahead of us? Is there no purpose to that?"
"Now I did not say that," Paramessu said with a smile. "The main problem is that I have no real intelligence concerning the enemy. If the van is led by Menkure, he will see through my rather simple ploy, whereas if it is one of his Nubian officers, we just might bloody their noses."
Half a day later, a scout came running down the road. "Enemy in sight, sir," he gasped to Paramessu. "Two, three thousand paces. About five hundred of them, pressing hard on Khons and his men."
"And what are they doing?'
"Falling back, sir."
Paramessu gave the orders and the column broke into a trot, moving up on Khons' small unit. The road rose slightly at one point, and he stopped his men shy of the summit, having them spread out on either side.
"Wait for my word," he told the soldiers.
Minutes later, they could hear the sounds of fighting, and another scout gave his report. "Just over the hill, sir."
"Are the rest of the enemy following?"