The Oasis (24 page)

“We devised a rule whereby if a man dropped one of his weapons overboard he was responsible for retrieving it,” Abana cut in. “At first we had to hire some of the local boys to dive for the swords and axes and refuse beer to the guilty men, but now they have become such good marines that they do not even lose the weapons, let alone have to dive for them.” Paheri had opened his mouth and was about to begin reading again from the seemingly endless scroll, and Kamose hastily stepped in.

“I presume you have a copy of your lists,” he said. “Give it to Ipi and I will go over it at my leisure. That way I can absorb its contents more deeply. I congratulate you both on the swimming lessons. A man who is drowned during a battle is a stupid and unnecessary loss. I see that I have put my faith in the right men.” His tone was not ingratiating and the compliment was received as just. “Now tell me of the training you devised,” Kamose went on. Paheri nodded, but before he spoke he signalled to his servant waiting by the tent flap. The man bowed and disappeared.

“Baba and I mapped out a strategy together,” Paheri explained, “but it was Baba who saw to its implementation. We abandoned all drilling on land. The soldiers ate, slept and exercised on the ships for the first two months and after that they were only allowed to pitch tents on the bank if they had been victorious in one of the engagements we set up every week.”

“I am glad Your Majesty was not here to see those first miserable attempts at naval warfare,” Abana said, a smile in his voice. “Boats ramming each other, oars tangling and snapping, soldiers losing their balance as their craft lurched, captains screaming abuse at each other across the water. And of course a veritable shower of swords, axes and daggers piercing the surface of the Nile. Those were frustrating days.” But he did not look frustrated. He looked happily smug. “Your Majesty will be pleased to know that only a mere handful of weapons were irretrievable.” He unfolded his legs and leaned back on his hands. “I guarantee that Apepa’s marines will look like fumbling amateurs beside ours.”

“I do not think that Apepa has any coherent naval force,” Ahmose said. “He has left the canals to the traders and citizens and relied on the impregnability of his gates. How is the soldiers’ morale, Paheri? And how have your stores held out?” Paheri allowed himself a polite twitch of the lips.

“Morale is excellent, Highness. It is hard to believe that the motley crowd of grumbling peasants you rounded up has become what you will see tomorrow. The officers have prepared a demonstration of skill and discipline I hope you will enjoy. As for our stores, we have been liberal. If a soldier goes hungry, he does not fight well. We have enough grain and vegetables to carry us through to the next harvest. All the fields around the town have been sown already.” Doubtless he would be able to reel off the number of bushels of wheat used, the amount remaining, even the weight of the seed scattered, Kamose thought admiringly. He was a good mayor and he has become a superb Scribe of Assemblage.

At that moment, a small parade of servants entered, bearing trays laden with dishes that filled the airy space with the aroma of hot food. At another gesture from Paheri they began to serve it, and Kamose realized that he was genuinely ravenous for the first time in many days. This man forgets nothing, he thought as he watched roast goose stuffed with leeks and garlic being lowered onto the camp table another servant had placed in front of him, and bread glistening with juniper-laced olive oil followed. Two jugs were held out below a respectfully bowed head. Kamose chose the beer and watched with satisfaction as the dark liquid cascaded into his cup. “I think I will remove you from the navy and set you to work organizing the army’s rations, Paheri,” he joked as he licked oil from his fingers. Paheri’s face immediately took on an expression of shocked anxiety.

“Oh, Majesty, I am yours to command, but I beg you to consider that …” Kamose burst out laughing.

“I am not foolish enough to take an hereditary shipbuilder away from his ships,” he said. “I was only joking, Paheri. I am more than content with all you have accomplished here.”

While they ate, the conversation became general but did not stray far from the interests of all military men. Abana questioned the brothers regarding the Medjay, where in Wawat they were from, how many different tribes made up the division of five thousand Kamose had kept with him, how they had acquired their legendary skills as bowmen. Kamose could detect no prejudice in his words, only a desire for knowledge, and answered as readily as he could. “You must ask the General Hor-Aha these things,” he finally confessed. “He knows the Medjay better than anyone, having brought them out of Wawat. All I know is that we would not have been able to move downstream with the speed we did last year without the amazing accuracy of their archery. I do not even know what strange gods they worship.”

“They are intrigued by Wepwawet of Djawati and Khentiamentiu of Aabtu,” Ahmose said. “Both are Egyptian jackal gods of war. But they seem to follow some strange religion whereby certain stones or trees contain good or evil spirits that must be appeased and they each carry a fetish to protect them from their enemies.”

“Does Hor-Aha?” Kamose asked him, surprised at the information he had somehow gleaned. Ahmose nodded, his mouth full of sesame cake.

“He carries a scrap of linen our father used once to staunch a bleeding scratch. He showed it to me once. He keeps it folded up in a tiny leather pouch sewn to his belt.”

“Gods,” Kamose muttered, and changed the subject.

After they had demolished the food, Paheri took them into the town to inspect the storehouses and then into the tents of the soldiers. Everywhere Kamose was struck by the neatness of the men’s belongings, the cleanliness of their scant clothing, and the care with which they treated their weapons. Swords gleamed sharp and spotless, bowstrings were oiled, the rope that bound axe heads to hafts was unfrayed and tight. Beneath the constant din arising from the boats and barges choking the river from the west bank to the east, he moved among the deferential men with a question for one, a word of praise for another, becoming acutely conscious as he went that he was at last the Commander-in-Chief of a fighting force that could be called a navy.

Before he retired to his ship, he arranged to be present the following day to observe the manoeuvres Paheri and Abana wanted him to see, and he received an armful of scrolls from Paheri’s scribe. “These are all the reports made by our scouts in the Delta,” Paheri explained. “Most were sent on to you at Weset, Majesty, but you might like to refresh your memory with the copies. There is also one scroll from General Hor-Aha. It is sealed and came with the instruction that it was to be given to you personally when you arrived. I have obeyed.” Kamose passed the unruly pile to Ipi.

“Have there been any Setiu spies caught anywhere near here?” he asked Paheri. The man shook his head.

“I expected to deal with a few, but the scouts have challenged none any farther south than Ta-she. It is my opinion that Apepa simply does not care what we do because he regards Het-Uart as inviolate and he will not stir outside his city.”

“That is my opinion also. Thank you.” He walked up the ramp and gained the cabin in a thoughtful frame of mind, Ipi on his heels. Somehow Apepa must open his gates, he mused. He must be persuaded, but how? He sat down on the edge of his cot with a sigh. The morning had been eventful. Ahmose’s shadow darkened the doorway as Akhtoy bent down to remove Kamose’s sandals.

“I’m ready for an hour on my cot also,” he yawned. “They have done wonders here, Kamose, the two of them. I think they deserve some kind of recognition. Will you read the dispatches now?” Kamose swung his feet up onto his mattress.

“No. Later. You can go, Ipi. Akhtoy, tell the guard on the door not to disturb us for at least an hour.”

He slept like a child, deeply and dreamlessly, and his waking was childlike also, a sudden return to consciousness and a keen awareness of well-being. Summoning his steward, he had himself washed, changed his linen, ordered bread and cheese, and went out to sit under the wooden sunshade. In a few moments Ahmose joined him. They ate and drank briefly, then Kamose sent for Ipi. “Now,” he said to his scribe when the man was settled beside his bare feet, “we had better begin with the scroll from Hor-Aha. Read it to us, Ipi.” Ipi broke the seal and began.

“‘To His Majesty King Kamose, Mighty Bull of Ma’at and Subduer of the vile Setiu, greetings.’”

“Subduer of the vile Setiu,” Ahmose murmured. “I like that.”

“‘I have spent much time this winter pondering the matter of Het-Uart and wondering what Your Majesty’s strategy might be during this season’s campaign,’” Ipi went on. “‘I have presumed that Your Majesty’s choices are limited to a renewed siege of Het-Uart or the fortifying of Nag-ta-Hert or Het nefer Apu against an incursion from the north, coupled with a mopping-up of territory already held. I would like to humbly propose an alternative. I do so with boldness only because I am Your Majesty’s General and Your Majesty has seen fit to consult me on military matters before.

“‘As Your Majesty is well aware, there are only two tracks leading into and out of this oasis. One comes down from the lake of Ta-she and one runs due west from Het nefer Apu, already secured by your navy. If Apepa’s troops could be informed that your army bivouacks at the oasis and if his generals could be persuaded to leave Het-Uart, they would be forced to travel to Uah-ta-Meh through the desert by way of Ta-she, because the navy holds the approach to the only other route, which leaves the Nile just north of Het nefer Apu.

“‘You would then enjoy two advantages. Firstly, the desert terrain is rocky and both trails are very narrow. Secondly, if your troops retreated from Uah-ta-Meh back to the Nile and the safety of Het nefer Apu, Apepa’s officers, no matter what they chose to do, would be faced with a daunting and exhausting march either back to Ta-she or forward in pursuit of your army. It is less far to the Nile than to Ta-she. I judge that they would pursue the army. Thus by the time they were forced to engage both the army and the navy they would be fatigued and demoralized. I trust Your Majesty is not offended by my temerity in putting forth this suggestion. I await with glad anticipation either your command to return the troops to the Nile or the arrival of your royal person. I extend to His Highness Prince Ahmose my devotion.’” Ipi looked up. “It is signed ‘Prince and General Hor-Aha’ and dated the first day of Tybi,” he finished. “Would you like me to read it again, Majesty?” Kamose nodded. He glanced at Ahmose who was staring breathlessly at the scribe.

After the second reading Kamose took the scroll and dismissed Ipi. Ahmose spoke into the moment of hiatus. “Let me understand this,” he said slowly. “Hor-Aha proposes that we somehow lure the Setiu to the oasis and as they come we retreat to the Nile, so that by the time they have caught us up we are at full strength with the navy, while they are tired and dispirited after an arduous trek through the desert.”

“It seems so.”

“He is advocating a pitched battle here at Het nefer Apu.”

“Ultimately it would come to that.” Kamose tapped the papyrus meditatively against his chin. “But why would Apepa risk such a move, when he can simply close up his city as he did last year and watch us running to and fro outside like starving rats? He has every advantage. He can sit there inviolate until we are forced to create a border for ourselves at Nag-ta-Hert or here as Hor-Aha points out, thus dividing Egypt into two lands as it used to be hentis ago. Eventually we would have to disband the army and send the men back to the land or face the disintegration of Egypt’s food supply, not to mention her administration.” He sighed. “I had dreamed of storming the city this season, breaching the walls, smashing the gates, but my dream was not realistic. What do you think?” Ahmose chewed his lip.

“There are several problems,” he said at last. “Apepa would have to be convinced that he could indeed wipe us out at the oasis. He is a cautious, not to say timid, man. He would not take such a gamble without a clear chance of complete success. Someone would have to make him believe that we thought we were safe in sitting at Uah-ta-Meh. Someone who could act the traitor convincingly. Also, why would his troops arrive at Het nefer Apu any more exhausted than ours? The oasis has plenty of water. The Setiu arrive at the oasis to find us gone. Before they follow, they replenish their supplies of both water and food and come after us in good health. There is no advantage to us in this plan.”

“Except that, if it worked, we would be saved from another season of fruitless impasse,” Kamose said. “It would draw them out. Apepa has made no effort to attack the five thousand soldiers we left here with Paheri and Abana. He sees us as too disorganized to bother about. He knows that the rebellion will disintegrate in time.”

“Kamose, it will unless we can change our tactics,” Ahmose said softly. “This suggestion of Hor-Aha’s is crude, it needs honing, but it is an alternative we had not considered. We must go to the oasis instead of recalling the army from there. We know that it cannot be defended and we never intended that it should be. It was simply a fairly secret place to winter our men. But we must see for ourselves whether or not it would be suitable as a trap.”

“What do you mean?” Ahmose shrugged.

“I’m not sure, but what if the Setiu were not able to get fresh water once they arrived there? What if it were possible to retire into the desert and then return to surround them? We have never seen Uah-ta-Meh, Kamose. We should at least go and study the terrain. Perhaps we can bring everything to a head, do something decisive. What use is a fine navy and a disciplined army if the enemy will not fight?”

“I had wanted to bring them east,” Kamose said unwillingly. “We will waste time if we trek to the oasis only to find Hor-Aha’s great plan impractical in the end. Still …” He laid the scroll on his cot. “Who is to say that Amun did not whisper the idea in the General’s ear? Let’s recall Ipi and go on with the dispatches Paheri gave us.”

That evening there was a feast for the Taos and their officers in the house of Het nefer Apu’s mayor. The atmosphere was rowdy and merry, the revellers optimistic. The flood had been good, a new campaign season was about to begin, and there was no shortage of beer. Ahmose gave himself over to the frenetic delights of the occasion, but Kamose, though he longed to do the same, found himself as always the quiet observer, watching the antics of his fellows with cool detachment. Already his mind was entangled in his General’s proposal, turning it this way and that, searching for a way to make it work, looking for hidden difficulties. Politely he endured the festivity, knowing that it was in his honour, answering the obeisances of the men and women who came up to the dais to bow before him and press their lips to his feet, but long before the lamps began to gutter and the drunken guests slumped unconscious and satiated over their small tables he was eager to return to the silence of his cabin.