Warrior King, page 22
Ahmose’s voice rang out, breaking through her thoughts. “This new king shall feel the wrath of Amun’s divinely appointed, Re’s chosen one. We will never acknowledge the names of our enemies, and this new king shall be known as King Apepi II after his father. Tell our soldiers to have no fear in this new king, for Re has spoken, and Amun is with us. We will strike them from our lands and retake what is ours—all of Kemet.”
The messenger seemed soothed by Ahmose’s words, for his lips held an honorable beam. He bowed and left to carry the encouraging word to the troops.
Ahmose-Nefertari closed her eyes and prayed in thought to Amun and Re as she stroked the scarab amulet. Please let me have another living son so Ahmose can leave Waset and end this war.
25
A TIME FOR CELEBRATION | AHMOSE
SEDJEFATAWY, 1562 BC
Ahmose flexed his toes over his leather sandals and hoped one day they would be gilded in gold. With the viceroy of Kush, Si-Tayet, keeping matters south of the first cataract diplomatic, trade from the gold-rich region funneled through the nomes once again after Ta-Seti took its fill. The Medjay were plentiful, and khopeshes and chariots were in full-scale production. All recruits trained with the Kerman mercenaries at Per-djed-ken, before they shipped out to positions along the Nile to keep the peace.
Yet despite the Viceroy’s efforts, reports of uprisings came every season, and men from the north had to be reassigned to Kush to help put it down. And as lands were conquered in the north, riots, and rebellions from the local populace who did not want a united Kemet became frequent.
It had been a balancing act, juggling resources and men from one end of the Nile to the other. Establishing an effective, forceful presence was the only way Ahmose foresaw victory. His mother had done a good job for him, ripening it for the taking.
The army had infiltrated most of the Nile delta that fed into the Great Sea but met considerable force at Lunu, which sat on the Nile branch leading to Per-Bastet and then to Hut-Waret, home of the Hekka Khasut king. At least the populous Apiru that lived in the delta had been no trouble as of yet.
At eighteen years old, Ahmose should have been at war with the other men his age. And with Tetian rising from his bow before him, the thought of fighting far away from the throne room enticed him even more. Contempt covered the prince’s crimped mouth as he stared at the king, waiting to speak.
He’d rather swing his bronze khopesh or shoot an arrow or ride a chariot full force into the enemy than deal with the dissenting princes. The worst one, Tetian, had decided to come to Sedjefatawy after two years of silence since Ahmose’s return rebuff about the dead fish.
After the guard had declared him, Ahmose couldn’t remember the purpose of his visit. It was just a haze, and now Tetian stood staring at him as if he were to speak.
Ahmose glanced to his left, where his chief wife usually stood, but she was in the birthing pavilion having their child. He drummed his fingers on the throne’s chair arm, wishing for her presence, especially now. She had always handled Tetian and his messengers for him when his mother was not there. He glanced to his right. His mother stood straight-backed with her arms stiffly by her sides with a stone-cold face. She had not moved or spoken since Tetian arrived unexpectedly that morning.
His mother, apparently waiting for Ahmose to speak, had been true to her word and, most of the time, had let him find and use his voice. But this time, he wished she would speak for him. The clenching of his teeth chafed his ears.
Tetisheri sat in the back, sipping karkade tea as she did when she decided to come to the throne room. This time it was to await the news of her great-grandchild.
“Well,” she croaked and cleared her throat. She spoke again in her usual rich tone. “Is anyone going to speak, or shall the prince stare at the royalty all day?”
Ahhotep glared at her over her shoulder and muttered under her breath so Ahmose could hear, “She wants us to be worthy of the crown but speaks like that in front of an audience?” The disgust dripped off her tongue.
She took a settling breath and placed a hand on the back of Ahmose’s throne as if to claim it for her bloodline. The action garnered Tetian’s attention, and he curled his lip before speaking.
“I have sailed all the way from Ta-Seti to discuss negotiations with the King and his mother—”
“Royal Commander,” Ahmose interjected, correcting his mother’s title. The day on the port eight years ago when Tetian revealed his true stance against his family limited his patience with the prince.
Prince Tetian smugly chuckled and shook his head. “With the King and the Royal Commander.”
At least he obeyed, Ahmose mused and asked, “What negotiations need to be discussed?” He inclined his head and sat back. Ahmose wasn’t a tall man, but in the past year, he had grown taller, and his feet were now flat on the floor.
Tetian popped his neck with a swift turn of his head. “We have many items that need discussion, King Ahmose.”
Ahhotep took a step forward. “You do not show your face in Sedjefatawy for years, and now you demand to negotiate?”
Tetian sneered. “It seems your entry into the Lower is slow-going yet again. I would have expected the lands to be conquered by now. You need the riches of Ta-Seti to help you win this war.”
Si-Tayet’s reports of Tetian’s trade dealings came to Ahmose’s mind. He wondered why Tetian had been taking more than his usual share of the trade goods flowing north. Was it his greed, to negotiate with him for power, or something more sinister? Ahmose needed to be civil to gain more information about Tetian’s hoarding, but the hateful comments about his family’s motivations at the last feast Tetian attended resurfaced in memory, and the snake of red revenge settled on his tongue, ready to strike at everything the prince said.
“What we need is for Ta-Seti to stop stealing trade goods before it reaches the rest of Kemet. You are no better than the Hekka Khasut and the Kushites.”
Tetian raised both hands in defense of Ahmose’s implied accusation. “You dare compare a prince of Ta-Seti to the Hekka Khasut?”
Ahmose snapped back. “If the comparison is clear, there is no dare to say it.”
Tetisheri coughed dryly as Tetian glowered at her. She rose from her seat, tea in hand, and strode to Ahmose’s left side. Tetian smirked as if Tetisheri would take his side.
Pitiful fool, Ahmose thought. Only because she has let you speak freely before, does not mean she will never scold you.
Tetisheri said in a thick voice that needed her tea, “Prince Tetian, perhaps you should share more of your wealth and not hoard it for some unseen need. It seems your king thinks you a thief.” She lifted an eyebrow and sipped the floral-cooled tea.
Ahmose thought his grandmother had been more supportive as of late. She still never spoke with his mother, but at least she had not chided him. Maybe he was speaking how she believed best for the throne, and Ahmose sat up straighter at the thought.
Tetian scoffed. “I am no thief. I simply manage resources better—”
“Better than who?” Ahhotep interrupted. A note of finality rang through the throne room and echoed back from the tall pillars. Her unflinching eyes cut through the space between them.
Ahmose smirked at Tetian’s pinched lips and the two powerful women standing next to him. If Ta-Seti were to rejoin the cause, it would be under different circumstances while he was on the throne. No more emboldened words.
Tetian inclined his head. “Paser of Herui, of course,” he said with a smug sneer. “Why would you anticipate I would say any other?”
The smirk fell off Ahmose’s face. “We wouldn’t, Prince Tetian.” He crossed the king’s regalia—the crook and the flail—over his chest and sat back. He repeated the words his mother had taught him to say. “You came to negotiate, but the King of Kemet does not negotiate. Present your requests before the throne, and the King shall decide whether to grant it or not.”
His mother lifted her head in a prideful beam and glared down at Tetian at the foot of the dais. His grandmother returned to her seat, and at the creak of the chair, Ahmose said, “Speak, Prince Tetian.”
Tetian curled his lip, clearly upset at being put in his place, not once now but twice.
“I have nothing to say to you, insolent king. I was going to offer you a chance at ending this war early, but I see now you will never listen. You will perish as your brother did and your father before him, should you ever decide to leave the palace and fight alongside the men your mother commands.”
Ahmose’s jaw grew taut at the insult, and his breath came out hot through his nostrils. He hissed, “Does the Prince prefer the King to stay in riches and wealth while the rest of the nation fights for their freedom, such as the Prince of Ta-Seti does?”
Tetian shook his head with a prideful grin. “I support the Viceroy of Kush so that your army can focus on the north. I do my share. It would do the King well to honor such a prince.”
“What honor should be bestowed upon a prince who has done nothing but prevented progress in this war by hoarding needed trade goods in selfish isolation?” Ahmose asked. “State your requests or leave.”
Tetian stood and stared at him blankly. “Your mother has instilled in you great confidence, King Ahmose. I hope the gods agree with your great-great-grandfather’s self-declared divine appointment.” He turned around to leave as a steward entered and bowed.
The steward said, “The Lord of Strength is Re, King Ahmose, your chief wife Ahmose-Nefertari bore you a son. She calls him Prince Ramose.”
A new breath filled Ahmose’s chest, and the burden of the previous exchange rolled down his back. His smile grew wide but faded as Tetian peered at him with dark eyes.
“So, it seems you now have two sons, King of Kemet. Shall you now board The Wild Bull?”
Ahhotep placed a hand on the throne. “Shall you board a warship as well, Prince Tetian?”
He snarled. “I am not King. It is not my duty to defend Kemet.”
Ahmose peered up at his mother. The agreement had been two sons. “I do have two sons now,” he whispered.
“Not now, Ahmose,” she shot back under her breath.
His gaze dropped. Why had Tetian even come? A happy moment was ruined by his speech, and he had disappointed his mother by speaking when he should not have.
“You, King Ahmose,”—Tetian pointed a finger at him—“hold the crook, the symbol to defend Kemet, yet you sit as a man with an heir and now a reserve son. You hold the flail, the symbol of fertility for the people. Yet you . . .” His voice trailed off, and then he chuckled. “Why waste my breath on you? You hypocrite of a king, still coddled at his mother’s breast?”
Every muscle in Ahmose’s body tightened. Is that what the army thought of him, being an eighteen-year-old man and still at his mother’s side? Is that what his people thought, and Tetian was the only one brave enough to say it? He had two sons now—that was the agreement his mother declared to the princes. He should announce his going to war. But the color drained from his mother’s knuckles as she gripped the throne—the bones popped up in flesh-covered ridges on her nut-brown skin. He swallowed his fears and his anger, so he would speak calmly as his grandmother would have wanted him to.
“You now have a different option, Prince Tetian. Leave, or the guards shall remove you,” Ahmose said, taking the cue from his mother.
Tetian spun on his heels and shouted as he left, “It would not be the first time your family has escorted me from your presence when others blindly follow you.”
The throne room doors closed, and the crook and the flail slid down Ahmose’s arms into his lap. His back sagged. “I have two sons now, Mother,” he said. “I need to go to war and lead my men into battle as Father did, as Kamose did. They see me as a child still having you lead in my stead. I need to be King.”
Ahhotep’s grip did not falter on the chair’s arm. “Do not heed that renegade’s words.” Her chin sunk, and she drew in a deep breath—her fingers releasing the throne one at a time. “It is paramount the throne stays with the divinely appointed. The army knows this. Ahmose-Ankh is a sickly child. Ramose could be as well. Ramose could travel west in a few days like Siamun. What if both of your living sons do not see manhood? Then what happens?”
Ahmose leaned forward, his elbows pressed into his thighs, and the regalia drooped between his knees. Losing Siamun had been like a weight placed on his belly, and it returned at the mention of his name. Ahmose-Ankh though he looked like a healthy toddler, was quite frail like Sitkamose had been. His throat itched, and he sniffed back the memories of when she did not wake.
“You need a healthy baby boy.” His mother’s words drew him from his thoughts.
Tetisheri coughed in the back. “Ahmose, your mother is right. If you want your line to continue, you need to produce a healthy heir, one who will not enter the Field of Reeds early in life”
Ahmose sat back and lifted his regalia to their dutiful position. He did not want to talk about such things with his mother and grandmother. There were too many hard memories running through his head. “What of Tetian? Do you think he is a threat to us? I have wondered for many months why he has been hoarding. Do you think it was for bargaining, as he tried to do today? He left quickly if that was his main motivation. Should we increase the men with Si-Tayet or . . .” His voice trailed off, hoping he would not speak the treasonous implication.
Ahhotep lifted his chin so his face was to hers. “We will need to keep a closer watch. Let’s ask our neighboring prince to the south, Prince Nakht of Nekhen, to keep an account of the comings and goings of the Nile and ensure he is not planning an uprising.”
Tetisheri slammed her teacup on its saucer. She lifted her chin in bold confidence. “Ta-Seti would never do such a thing. They are honorable people. Until the gods speak otherwise, you can expect Tetian to remain a dissenter only.”
Ahmose glanced at his grandmother. “When would Tetian believe the gods speak otherwise?”
Tetisheri snorted at the question. “When the divine line is no more, and we are close to defeat. Then clearly, your ancestor was erroneous in his claim of divine appointment.”
Ahmose cleared his throat. “Well, I have two sons, and I will stay until I have a healthy son. We are making strides and maintaining what we have won. I’d say we are far from defeat.”
“Then you have nothing to fear from Tetian,” Tetisheri snapped. There was a possessiveness in her voice, and Ahmose wondered what she was protecting.
His mother, though, threw her gaze upward and whispered. “It still may be prudent to ask Nekhen to keep eyes on their southern neighbor. I will ask Paser to keep eyes on Metjen and Baufre north of him. He will be able to do little if the three of them decide to rebel.”
“I am old but not deaf, child,” Tetisheri said. “I have already told you, Tetian is no threat in that regard.”
Ahhotep shot her gaze to her mother. “And my ears work perfectly well, Mother. Still, I do not trust Tetian and think we should be wise concerning what he could do especially given his large unspent resources and the men he keeps from this war. Likewise, Metjen and Baufre have withheld their resources and men for almost four years now. We have seen their trips to Ta-Seti many times. What are they meeting about? What are they planning?”
Tetisheri narrowed her eyes. “Fine. Be an ill steward of what little we have available and waste soldiers patrolling in vain when we already have many riots and insurrections in Kush and beyond Ta-Ur.”
Ahmose was torn. He could see both sides. “I will do this, Great Wives: I will simply ask Paser of Herui and Nakht of Nekhen to keep watch and alert us if they notice anything that would require more attention. We will hold off on preparing for an internal attack or defense until we have more information.”
His mother looked disappointed, but she nodded regardless. His grandmother dipped her chin in apparent agreement.
Ahmose drew in a deep breath and pushed Tetian into the dark recesses of his mind. He let the breath escape and called out, “Next messenger.”
The throne room doors opened, and a guard entered.
“The Admiral returns and has a report to give on Men-nefer.”
Ahmose let out a small sigh. It seemed no matter how many traitors they slew, Men-nefer was ripe with opposition. He glanced up at his mother, who released a soft gasp at the officer walking toward them. Seemed his mother thought the same.
“What is your report, Admiral,” Ahmose said once Baba’s knee was bent, and his head bowed.
Baba regained his posture and first glanced at him and then at his mother. There was a timid smile on his lips before it faded, and he spoke. “King Ahmose, Given Life, I come with a report from the north. The Apiru have been gentle and provided food to us and bandages, but they also aid our enemy. They say they remain neutral in our conflict. Time will tell if they decide to stay neutral. We have quelled the riots in Men-nefer and in Merimda in the western delta. But Lunu, Per-Bastet, and ultimately Hut-Waret remain out of reach. The men sent with General Pennekhbet to Kush will be needed to attempt to take those cities. As for now, we hold the position. We will fail if we try without proper counts.”
Tetisheri’s harsh voice erupted from the back, “Admiral, direct your report to the King.”
Baba turned his attention to the Great Wife, “I speak to both the King and the Royal Commander.”
Ahmose glanced between Baba and his mother and thought it odd his grandmother would be so harsh with the loyal and effective officer of his fleet. His mother was the Royal Commander and, thus, Baba’s superior. Ahmose’s brow furrowed in the silence that settled in between the four of them until he said, “Continue, Admiral.”
As Baba spoke, Ahmose recalled the rumors about his mother and Baba seeing each other in the council room on a few occasions. He had forced the servants and stewards into silence, dismissing their petty gossip for what it was. The Admiral was a faithful friend to the crown and was now father-in-law to Prince Sapair. Given the war, why would his mother not seek his counsel?
