The Horus Road (35 page)

Mosquitoes trembled above the placid pink surface of the pond and shadows had begun to merge into one dim mass beneath the trees surrounding the lawn. The large lamps hanging from the frame of the canopy had not yet been lit and Ahmose had just signalled to Akhtoy to do so when a herald materialized out of the gloom, another figure behind him, and bowed. “The Admiral Ahmose Abana, Your Majesty,” he announced.

“What?” Ahmose waved him aside. “Abana, what are you doing here? It is scarcely six weeks since you ended your month’s leave in Nekheb and returned to the Delta. You look terrible. Akhtoy, give the taper to someone else and have food and wine brought.”

As the young man came forward and bowed, his shoulders hunched and his normally animated face wooden, a spasm of fear shook Ahmose. The Wall of Princes has been retaken by the enemy, he thought wildly. The Setiu have found more troops and they are even now pouring into the Delta along the Horus Road. The gates of Het-Uart opened and my army could not stand and Apepa is marching on Weset. Taking a deep breath, he forced down the panic and snapped his fingers at Pa-she. “Ahmoseonkh, it is time for you to go to bed,” he said. “Don’t argue. Gather up your work and put it back in the bag. Kiss me and your mother.” With a well-concealed pout of disappointment Ahmose-onkh did as he was told, and taking his hand Pa-she led him away. Ahmose found himself staring after their figures, the tall and the short, both silhouetted against the torches that had begun to shine out from the house, in a kind of stupor. Rousing himself, he looked about. “Ipi, you stay,” he ordered. “The rest of you are dismissed.” At once the servants reverenced him and scattered, all but Hekayib who was swiftly moving from lamp to lamp with the taper. As he went, he left behind him great circles of strengthening light that threw his shadow out before him on the rough grass. Ahmose watched Abana’s features sharpen into full focus as the night was pushed back. The man did indeed look exhausted, his eyes swollen half-shut, his shoulders hunched. Hekayib completed his task, blew out the taper, bowed, and vanished into the pressing darkness.

Ahmose beckoned the Admiral. “You had better sit down before you fall down, Abana,” he said. “Are you alone? Did you come in the
Shining in Mennofer
?” Abana sank onto the mat with a groan of relief.

“I came alone in the lightest skiff I could find, Majesty,” he answered hoarsely. “I needed speed. It was a mistake not to bring help, for I have had to row against the highest level of the river with the winter winds against me, but I wanted to give you my news in person before it filtered down to Weset through other mouths.” He rubbed an eye with one grubby finger and smiled wanly. “Battling the flood, even in a skiff, is no mean feat.”

Be calm, Ahmose told himself as his whole body tensed. Why do you presume that his news is bad? How can it be bad when my soldiers are ranged as thickly as rows of grain around Het-Uart?

“I know your skill on water,” he said irritably. “You do not need to remind me. Tell me what has happened.” Abana looked up at him.

“We have failed you, Majesty,” he admitted. “We had a chance to capture Apepa and we blundered. I bring abject apologies from the generals responsible for keeping the city enclosed.”

“Capture him?” Aahmes-nefertari put in sharply. “Are you telling us that Het-Uart has fallen?” She was leaning forward, her incredulous expression clear in the yellow lamplight. Abana shook his head.

“May the gods punish us for our sloth,” he said bitterly. “I will not excuse us, but I will say that a siege of years is a wearisome thing and men may become inattentive at their posts while still performing their duty.” He was stumbling a little over his words, and though Ahmose was desperate to hear what story might unfold, he held up a hand.

“Eat and drink before you go on,” he said. “Akhtoy is here.” The steward had approached with a servant who laid a dish beside Abana and withdrew. Akhtoy poured wine. Abana snatched it from him and drank deeply before attacking the food. Ahmose waited. At last Abana wiped his mouth on his already stained kilt.

“Forgive me, Majesty …” he began, and at that Ahmose’s patience deserted him.

“Humility before the gods is highly commendable,” he roared, “but before a King it is an annoying obstacle best kicked out of the way. You of all men are least given to its exercise, Admiral, therefore stop attempting to master it and deliver your news!”

“Nevertheless, Majesty, my boastful nature has been to some degree reduced by my own idiocy, as you will hear,” Abana came back promptly with a spark of his usual impertinence. He crossed his legs, and grasping his knees he began to rock gently to and fro. He is genuinely chastened, Ahmose thought in surprise. This is not a show. “On the twelfth of Athyr we celebrated the last day of the Festival of Hapi,” Abana went on. “Of course the whole army took part, but as Hapi is god of the Nile we of the navy observed the rites with especial reverence and joy.” He shot Ahmose a quick glance. “When I say the whole army, I mean those men not on duty. And a portion of the navy was continuing its patrol of the canals around Het-Uart, soberly and correctly.”

“The rest of you got drunk,” Ahmose said dryly. Abana nodded.

“As always on such happy occasions,” he agreed. “Paheri had taken command of the navy that night. I and my crew were part of those who, having been relieved, were sitting around the cooking fires with our beer. We were on the east side of the city with water between us and the walls. Suddenly we heard a great commotion coming from the west side where the main tributary snakes beside Het-Uart and where the gate had opened once before. I got up and began to run. When I reached the gate, I saw that a host of Setiu had come out silently under cover of the darkness and were attacking our soldiers. The gate had closed again. Our men were surprised and confused. They had received no warning.”

“Of course there had been no warning!” Ahmose protested. “Did the generals expect the Setiu to stand on the wall holding torches and shouting ‘get ready, we are coming out’?” Abana’s grip tightened on his knees.

“I am s— The city had been very quiet for such a long time, for weeks, Majesty, as though it had died. The foray was completely unexpected. Our soldiers rallied and I saw our ships come round to assist them. I ran back to where the
Shining in Mennofer
was berthed, my crew with me. We were opposite the east side of Het-Uart. We cast off intending to join the fray, but as I stared at the section of the wall across the water from me I saw movement.” He clapped a hand to his head. “Fool that I am! I was not on duty. I had been drunk. I was becoming sober but not fast enough. The wall and the sky above were very dark. I could not see well, but my cousin Zaa was beside me and he pointed into the gloom. ‘There are men lowering something,’ he said. ‘I think it is a boat.’ Even as he spoke, it struck the water. I was puzzled. If I had not been awash with beer I would have realized sooner that the fighting to the west was nothing but a diversion, but I stood on the deck of my ship without understanding. ‘They are lowering another thing,’ Zaa said. ‘It looks like a big basket. What is happening, Ahmose?’ Abana clenched his fists and pounded the ground. “Majesty, I still did not see,” he cried out. “If I had let that basket descend to the ground, if I had waited quietly, I would be presenting myself to you this evening in triumph with your vile enemy tied to my mast!”

“Apepa was in the basket,” Aahmes-nefertari said tonelessly. “He was trying to escape. What a dishonourable act, to desert his people and sneak away like the weasel that he is. How did you know it was he? Was there anyone else with him?” Tani, Ahmose thought immediately and he groped for his wife’s fingers. Finding them cold, he squeezed them gently.

“The steering lamp had been lit on my vessel, Majesty,” Abana told her. “I could discern movement in the basket as it slid slowly down the wall. Without thinking, befuddled as I still was, I unslung my bow and fired an arrow at the vague shapes above the rim of the basket. It struck a man who screamed and toppled out, falling to the earth and taking with him a black cloth that had covered those concealed within. There was a shout and the basket was hurriedly drawn up again. I fired once more but the arrow went wide. A face peered down just as the basket was hauled over the lip of the wall. It was Apepa beyond doubt. One of my sailors remembered him from his progress upriver when he came to Weset to destroy your family.” The fists unclenched slowly and were offered to Ahmose, palms up. “Now you know why I must beg your forgiveness,” Abana said. “The usurper is back inside his stronghold and I am ashamed. I took my ship to the western wall but by then the small battle was over. We lost thirty men but the Setiu were all killed. I took the hand of the man I shot.”

He fell silent and Ahmose sat back until his face was in shadow, thinking furiously. Beside him Aahmes-nefertari was breathing quickly and audibly, whether from anger at Abana’s ineptitude or a vision of Tani in that basket, he could not tell. No, he would not take Tani away with him, Ahmose said to himself firmly. If he took anyone, it would surely be his oldest son, the second Apepa, and perhaps Kypenpen, his younger son, as well. Queens can be easily made afresh but it is not so simple to create a successor. He cannot spring forth fully mature and healthy from his father’s seed. “The man you shot, was he identified?” he asked suddenly. Abana shook his head.

“He was richly dressed in the garb of a steward,” he said. “White-haired and bearded in the Setiu fashion.”

“His advisers should be executed,” Ahmose retorted. “A diversion was the last thing he ought to have decided upon. All it did was alert the whole army and navy, whereas one basket sliding quietly down the wall in the dead of night stood a good chance of being undetected. He has been thwarted. What will he do now?”

Abana snorted. Having told his story without an explosion of rage from the King, he was beginning to recover his natural aplomb. “I think he will try again,” he said, “but not soon. His experience will have shaken him. But, Majesty, the situation inside Het-Uart must be very critical if he had decided to abandon the thousands of citizens under his care.”

“I am tired of speculating about it,” Ahmose sighed. “How much water, how much food, how much disease, how much despair; what does it matter if those gates never open in an acknowledgement of defeat? Get up, Abana.” The young man did as he was bid. Facing him, Ahmose could see that both the food and the unburdening of himself had done him good. His face had lost its hunted look. He is not without sensitivity, Ahmose mused. It must have been terrible for him, the frantic journey from the Delta with such a weight on his conscience, not knowing whether or not I would punish him. “If the whole army and navy had been feasting and if you had been drunk while on duty, I would certainly be enraged enough to remove the noses and ears of my commanders and exile them,” he said. “But no such undisciplined behaviour occurred. Therefore no reprimand is required, although it seems that the generals’ vigilance is waning somewhat. Go with Akhtoy. He will find you a bed and have you bathed.” Abana bowed.

“Majesty, you speak truly of your army’s conscientiousness,” he said. “I thank you for your magnanimity towards me, your eager and remorseful servant.” He backed away, still bent low, melting into the blackness between the lights surrounding the trio in the garden and the lamps burning in the house.

“Ipi, did you record all that the Admiral said?” Ahmose asked. The scribe nodded. “Then you also may go.” Ipi gathered up his pens, closed his ink, and was gone. “I think it is time for me to return to the Delta,” Ahmose said heavily. “The troops need to see me again. Their enthusiasm for an admittedly boring task is fading.” He was vitally aware of his wife’s fixed profile, the tense immobility of her misshapen body.

“I felt strange when it came to me that Tani might have been in that basket,” she said deliberately. “I cared and yet I did not care at all.” He put an arm around her stiff shoulders.

“I know,” he said simply. “We should go in, Aahmesnefertari. You are cold.” Obediently she rose. He was not sure that she had heard him speak of leaving until shrugging her cloak around her she said, “You will do what you must, go north or stay. As for me, I am imprisoned by this body and must give birth yet again.” Her tone was biting, and wisely he did not reply.

Once inside the house she kissed him, and wishing him a peaceful sleep she retired to her own apartments. But Ahmose stood irresolute in the passage just beyond the reception hall, hearing her voice come floating back to him as she paused for a few words with the guard on her door. He could not make out what was said but her tone was warm. She loves the soldiers she has chosen and shepherded, he thought. She knows the names of their wives and children. She knows which ones are standing watch and where. Every week she goes out to their barracks, and if she sees any lack she remedies it at once. The bond was forged during the days I have lost, when I lay unconscious and the fate of Egypt was in her hands. Hers and Aahotep’s. A piece of my life is missing forever, but hers went on, and I am eternally excluded from the many maturings that took place around me during that time.

As if in response to his pondering his head began to ache, a subtle pulse warning him that he should go to his couch, but Abana’s news had disturbed him. He felt the stirrings of a belated anger, not at the Admiral but at a fate that had teased him with the promise of Apepa’s capture only to snatch it away again. Apepa roped to a chariot and driven round the walls of the city for all its inhabitants to see while Khabekhnet called “Your King is taken! Surrender!” It was an intoxicating fantasy, and all the more painful for almost coming true. This struggle has become as stale as water left to stand too long in a ewer, he told himself. Just the thought of it makes me tired.

He walked to his quarters, past the salutes of the soldiers safeguarding the corridors, and as he came up to the door Akhtoy rose from his stool and bowed. Ahmose paused. He knew he should sleep or his headache would intensify but suddenly he could not face being shut up alone with his restlessness. “Send for Prince Ankhmahor,” he said. “Tell him to meet me on the watersteps and then you can go to your own couch, Akhtoy. I want to be on the river for a little while tonight.”