The Oasis (10 page)

The sound of chanting came floating towards them, gaining in strength as they went. “The priests are singing the evening hymn,” Ahmose whispered. “Soon the shrine will be closed.” Kamose did not reply. The feeling of peace that had engulfed him as he stepped over Thoth’s threshold had fled, leaving him cold and apprehensive. It is too late, he thought with dismay. Thoth will not be appeased. I should have remembered. Why, how did I forget? Mother, forgive me.

Either the newly charged atmosphere in the outer court or that curiously apathetic cry must have alerted the men gathered around the High Priest at the entrance to the sanctuary. The singing faltered and broke off and before the brothers could step through into the inner court they found themselves face to face with Thoth’s servants. There was a moment of shocked silence. In the steady flare of the lamps Kamose studied them. Expressionless dark eyes stared back. Then the High Priest shouldered his way through. “I know you, Prince,” he said hoarsely. “I remember you from the days of your first youth. You often worshipped here with your family when your mother came to visit her cousin, a priestess of this temple. But now you do not bring your worship, you bring torment and death. Look around you! You are not welcome in this sacred place.” Kamose swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.

“I bring a return to Ma’at,” he said as evenly as he could, “and Thoth gave Ma’at to Egypt together with his gift of writing. I am not here to argue with you, High Priest. I have come to abase myself before the god and beg his forgiveness for what I have done to his city in the name of that same Ma’at.”

“Forgiveness?” the man said sharply. “Are you contrite then, Prince? Would you undo the horror you have caused?”

“No,” Kamose replied. “It is not forgiveness for my deed that I seek. I wish to apologize to Thoth for neglecting to bring gifts and explanations to him before I fell upon Khemmenu.”

“Do you bring a gift?”

“No.” Kamose looked straight into the man’s angry face. “It is too late for that. I bring only a plea for his understanding and the promise of a cure for his Egypt.”

“It is you who are sick, Prince Kamose, not Egypt.” The High Priest’s voice trembled. “You have not even washed yourself. There is blood on your sandals. Blood! The blood of Khemmenu clings to your feet and you want to tread this holy ground? The god repudiates you!” Kamose felt his brother tense before speaking, and forestalled him. Jerking his head curtly he spun on his heel and walked away, and after hesitating, Ahmose followed. When they reached the pylon, Ankhmahor and the Braves gathered once more around them and they set off for the river.

Full night had now fallen and Kamose found himself close to panic as they trod the disordered streets whose black shadows were surely swollen with the spirits of the men who had fallen. He felt himself watched. Invisible eyes followed his progress with steady malevolence and he resisted the urge to draw closer to his brother. Thoth will give me no support, he thought, but I will not let it matter. Thoth is a god of peaceful times, of wisdom in prosperity and lawmaking in security. Amun has willed this thing. Amun protects the Princes of Weset and his power is not the gentle power of slow enlightenment. Henceforth I will bow before no other god but Amun. He must have spoken the last words aloud, for Ahmose glanced across at him. “It was the High Priest speaking, not the god, Kamose,” he offered. “Thoth will remember the devotion of our mother and her family and will not punish.”

“I don’t care,” Kamose snapped back. “Amun will be our salvation. I must eat something soon, Ahmose, or I will collapse on this accursed ground.”

Before they entered the skiff to return to their boat, Kamose wrenched off his blood-soaked sandals and flung them into the river. The acrid smoke from the burnings hung so thickly in the air that he only heard them strike the surface of the water. Ahmose began to cough, but bending, he did the same. “Let us eat while the rowers work to take us away from here, Kamose,” he said. “Khemmenu was a dirty business. Nefrusi is a garrison and will give us a clean fight.”

3

NEFRUSI WAS ONLY FOUR MILES
downriver from Khemmenu and Kamose ordered his captain to find a suitable place to tie up a mile south from the fort. Word was passed to the following craft and one by one they left the ruin of Thoth’s city behind. Food was brought. Ahmose ate heartily but Kamose forced down the herbed bread and dishes of vegetables without appetite, knowing that he needed sustenance. He drank his wine sparingly and was overcome with weariness before he had emptied his cup for the second time. Stumbling into the cabin, he flung himself onto his cot and was asleep at once.

It seemed to him that his feet had only just left the floor before a light fell on his face and he heard Akhtoy’s voice pierce his dreams. “Majesty, forgive me,” the man was saying, “but someone wishes to see you urgently.” Kamose fought to unglue his eyelids, and when he had done so, he saw Akhtoy retreating and Hor-Aha’s dark visage taking the steward’s place.

“Light another lamp, Akhtoy,” Ahmose was saying. He was already standing and wrapping a kilt around his waist. Groggily Kamose sat up, and Hor-Aha bowed. He too was clad in nothing but a kilt. His braid had come undone and tendrils of waving black hair trailed across his chest. His expression was grave.

“What is it?” Kamose demanded, now fully alert. The General raised a dismissive hand.

“The army is safely bivouacked and the Medjay have a cordon around the fort,” he said. “Don’t worry. But Prince Meketra is outside with half a dozen Setiu soldiers. He begs to speak with you.”

“Meketra?” Kamose blinked. “Was he captured somehow, Hor-Aha?”

“My archers seized him as he tried to slip through their lines,” Hor-Aha explained. “He was coming south, not north, so I presume that he was not trying to get a message to Apepa. It seems that he is anxious to see you.”

“Bring him in then, and, Akhtoy, send for Ipi, but find me a clean kilt first.”

The man who was ushered in was so tall that he was forced to bend his head to avoid the lintel of the cabin door, and Kamose recognized him immediately. Bald-headed, with bushy eyebrows above heavy-lidded eyes and a prominent adam’s apple, he had been on the periphery of Kamose’s youthful vision during visits to Teti’s estate at Khemmenu. Kamose had never spoken with him. He had simply been one of Teti’s innumerable guests, a man of Seqenenra’s generation, holding no interest for the children who raced about the gardens and played with Teti’s collection of cats and monkeys. The memories surged in Kamose, colourful and sweet, and then receded. Meketra bowed. “You resemble your father, the noble Seqenenra, Prince Kamose,” he said. “And you, Prince Ahmose, I am honoured to find myself in your presence.”

“These are strange circumstances in which to meet again,” Kamose said noncommittally. “You will forgive me if I am blunt, Prince, but what is the Commander of Nefrusi doing on my boat in the middle of the night? Have you come to surrender the fort and throw yourself on my mercy?” His tone was sardonic and Meketra laughed without humour.

“In a way, Highness. How is it with Khemmenu?” Kamose and Ahmose exchanged surprised glances. Ahmose raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t know?” he blurted. “No one from Khemmenu escaped to Nefrusi?” At that moment, after a discreet knock on the door, Ipi entered and took up his post at Kamose’s feet. Although tousled and obviously still sleepy, he set his palette across his bare knees, laid papyrus on it, and wielded his scraper. The small sound, so strongly linked to business and household affairs, brought an air of normality into the room. Ipi opened his ink, dampened a brush, and looked inquiringly up at Kamose.

“Record this conversation,” Kamose ordered him. “Please sit, Meketra. Akhtoy, serve wine to the Prince. Now, my lord, before I answer your question tell me why and how you are here.”

“I told Teti that I would take scouts and try to ascertain the state and position of your army,” Meketra said, lowering himself onto a stool and crossing his legs. “I lied. My intention was to reach you and that I have done, though not in the way I anticipated.” He smiled ruefully. “I did not know that Nefrusi was already surrounded. Your native archers almost shot me. I have come to give you any information you require regarding the fort and the number and disposition of my troops there and I will open the gates for you if you wish.”

There was a second of speculative silence during which Kamose regarded the Prince reflectively. He seemed completely at ease, his hands resting loosely together on his thigh, his gaze coolly encompassing all in the cabin. He wants something, Kamose mused. That is why he feels in control of himself and us. He watched the Prince reach for the wine cup, raise it to his mouth, drink delicately, lower it, without a single tremor in his fingers. “Why would you do all that?” Kamose asked at last. Meketra regarded him imperturbably.

“It is very simple, Highness. Many years ago I was the governor of the Mahtech nome and the Prince of Khemmenu. My home was the home your kinsman Teti was already inhabiting when you came there as a boy. Teti had always coveted it and finally Apepa gave it to him, along with the governorship of the nome and authority over the city—for his loyalty and, it must be said, his uncommon talent for spying on his noble neighbours. Teti kept Apepa informed of activities in the south. He was an invaluable tool.” Meketra grimaced. “For my loyalty and efficiency as governor I was allowed to command the fort at Nefrusi. I live in the commander’s quarters. My family inhabits a modest estate outside. I hate Apepa and loathe your kinsman. I will help you take the fort if you will promise to reinstate me to my former positions. That is why I asked you how Khemmenu has fared.” Kamose’s heart had begun to race. He dared not look at his brother again.

“And you are telling me that no news has come to you of the sack of Khemmenu?” he said deliberately. “No one in the fort knows anything?” Meketra shook his head.

“Teti and his family arrived with a garbled tale of an army under your command that had destroyed Dashlut and was marching on his city,” he said. “Teti requested that the fort stand to arms. I gave that order. Since then we have waited.”

“Then I may tell you that Khemmenu has been put to the sword, Nefrusi is surrounded, and I go north with nineteen thousand men to take Egypt away from Apepa,” Kamose said. “I agree to your proposition, Meketra; in fact, as soon as Nefrusi falls to me, I will give you the documents you require and you can begin to set Khemmenu to rights.” Meketra leaned forward.

“You will kill Teti?” Kamose kept his expression composed, but something in him recoiled from the naked hatred on the Prince’s face. Meketra wanted personal revenge. Well, so do you, he told himself. So do you.

“Teti will be executed for treason,” he answered. “Now describe the fort to us.” Meketra gestured and, at a nod from Kamose, Ipi handed him a sheet of papyrus and a brush. Swiftly he began to draw Nefrusi.

“Here is the Nile,” he said, “and here is its western branch. There are perhaps eight miles between the two. The land is cultivated and well irrigated. Beware the canals. My family lives here.” He placed a cross on his map and glanced up at Kamose.

“The order will be given not to molest them,” Kamose assured him. “Go on.”

“The fort itself is situated close to the Nile. There are two gates, one in the eastern wall, one to the west, both large enough for chariots to pass through. The walls themselves are a mighty defence. They are of thick mud plastered very smooth, vertical on the inside but sloping upwards outside. They cannot be scaled. If the gates are closed and barred, nothing will avail an attacker but a siege. Archers patrol the top of the walls.”

“This is the standard Setiu design?” Ahmose interrupted. “Are all Apepa’s northern forts like it?”

“Yes. The Setiu like to build such places on hills if they can, but Nefrusi is on flat ground. Some are better fortified, some less, but they resemble each other. Apepa has a string of smaller garrisons that you will encounter as you move north, but none are as mighty as the fort at Nag-ta-Hert where the Delta begins. It protects the heart of Apepa’s power.”

“We cannot worry about that now,” Kamose said. “What is inside Nefrusi?”

“The barracks are here. If you attack at dawn, most of the soldiers will still be performing their ablutions. The armoury here, and the stables behind it. A small shrine to Reshep here,” the brush moved swiftly, “and my command barracks here. The main barracks, as you can see, are closer to the western gate than the eastern. If I were you, Highness, I would concentrate my forces at that gate, but confront both gates at once of course.”

“Of course,” Kamose murmured. “What is the strength?” Meketra sat back, handing Kamose the map.

“Twelve hundred men, one hundred charioteers and two hundred horses. The granaries and storehouses are full, but the supply of water within the fort is limited. This is true of all the forts, I think, with the Nile so close to them. Apepa has never anticipated a full-scale revolt.” He rose and bowed. “I must return at once,” he said. “I will unbar the gates just after dawn but leave them closed. They open inwards. You will leave my family alone. May the god of Weset give you victory.”