Warrior King, page 29
Ahmose-Ebana clasped a fist over his chest. “Yes, King Ahmose, Given Life.”
Baba added. “To keep the rebellions and riots from further distracting us, I suggest wiping out any Aamu from here to Mednit.”
Ahmose nodded. “Give the order, Ahmose-Ebana. Once you retake Men-nefer, make them an example, as the Admiral states.” But Ahmose glanced at the Apiru woman, Rivkah, in the distance, giving bread to his men. “But leave the Apiru alive if they do not resist you.”
By dawn, Ahmose-Ebana had left upstream to help their brothers-in-arms, leaving half of Ahmose’s army in the fields before Hut-Waret’s fortress walls.
The next day, the Hekka Khasut sent out their chariots, seemingly taking advantage of the smaller army on their doorstep. But Ahmose and Baba had been ready for such an attack and met them full-force, chariot against chariot, foot soldier to foot soldier.
The air became acrid with the stench of blood and sweat. An Aamu thrust his spear in between the wheel spokes of Ahmose’s chariot, flinging him and his chariot driver to the ground. Baba’s chariot went on.
Ahmose rolled to his back, leaving his chest vulnerable to attack. A groan and spit flew from his mouth as an ax came swinging down from overhead. He brought up his shield to block it. The ax head thrust through the wooden shield locking it in place.
Where was his khopesh? He looked for his weapon as he rose to his feet, twisting the ax away from its wielder. Three Aamu approached him amid the surrounding chaos. His chariot driver was nowhere to be seen. Two spears and a dagger threatened him as he ripped the Aamu’s ax from his shield and parried a spear thrust.
A fourth Aamu approached from the side and swung a khopesh toward his crown-covered head. He dodged it, stepping into a spear strike from another Aamu, and blocked it with his shield. The spearpoint cut his forearm as it pierced the weakened wood.
The crown’s shining blue woven fabric was like a beacon on the battlefield. Blood dripped from his lip and nose after being expelled from the chariot as the enemy drew near.
Not like this, he thought. Not like Father. Not like Kamose.
He swung his axe at one of them and prayed there were no archers around him. Where were his men? Why hadn’t they come to help him? Were they losing?
He spotted Baba’s chariot whip back around and toward his position, leaving the chariot vulnerable to attack from the Aamu archers in the distance.
His heart beat hard in his chest, and the clatter of men’s yells defeated any meaningful sound in his ears. The five Aamu rushed him. The ax in his hand felt heavy compared to his khopesh. Aamu archers in the distance nocked their arrows, readying for release. Baba would be too late or killed, so Ahmose released a mighty yell, swung the Aamu ax to block as many strikes as possible, and used his broken shield as if it were new. If he were to be slain that day, he would take as many Aamu with him as he could.
The pricks of spearpoint ran across his forearm as the shield weakened even more. Soon the holes would be large enough for the full force of the spear to come through. His ax’s head sunk into his enemy’s neck, and he dodged another swing of an Aamu’s khopesh. But the attack took off the top of part of his shield, and the force knocked him back to the ground again. He swung the ax at the legs of those who came near, taking one man’s leg with it. The shield was useless as it defended its king one last time. He tossed it away and sat up, bringing his legs in close to avoid a spear strike.
More Aamu had come seeing his royal beacon as he hopped up and still swung his ax to keep them at bay for a moment until Baba’s chariot horses ran over a few of them. An archer from another of Ahmose’s chariots whipped in and killed two Aamu with quick, rapid arrows. It was enough distraction for Ahmose to hack through and best his attackers. It was then the Aamu’s arrows darkened the sky as Baba raced toward him, his shield high over his and his chariot driver’s heads. The horses ran faster at the pumping of the reins.
Ahmose looked to the ground for a useable shield, but there was none. So he ran toward the chariot, knowing it would probably be futile in the end. But the chariot careened sideways, propelling Baba out in a massive leap toward him just as the arrows began to fall. Baba’s eyes were filled with fierce determination, and his shield was outstretched as far as it would go, even uncovering his own head, in one last attempt to save the king.
36
A TIME OF OPPORTUNITY | AHHOTEP
SEDJEFATAWY, 1551 BC
Soldiers’ screams and shouts filled the mid-day air in Sedjefatawy as they had for the last year. Ahhotep sat on the throne with her daughter standing by her side. The dark circles under Ahmose-Nefertari’s eyes mirrored her own. Their thin frames were the result of rationing food. The year had not been kind to Sedjefatawy or Per-djed-ken, but they were all alive, for now. No word or aid had come from anyone or anywhere.
A year ago, Ahmose said he would defeat the Hekka Khasut and liberate Kemet from their rule. But there had been no word from him since and no sign of his army breaking through the northern Nile barricade. Was he dead, burned as a traitor? Had the Hekka Khasut renewed their strength and pushed him back? Or was he simply not strong enough to fight Tetian’s forces?
Ahhotep sighed. They were on their last reserves, and after a year, aid seemed unlikely. Her daughter’s cheeks were hollow, and Ahhotep swallowed with a thick tongue that thirsted for water and yearned for meat. They could never surrender even if Ahmose was slain, and so they would either die by sword or by starvation. Or by the grace of Horus, Amun, and Re, they would fight to victory.
As Ahhotep listened to the usual noises of siege, the soldier’s screams and shouts sounded different that day. They seemed closer.
She locked eyes with Ahmose-Nefertari just as a palace guard burst into Sedjefatawy’s throne room. Ahhotep held her breath as to what was coming.
The guard did not bow or pause for respect of the crown but instead blurted in a long, continuous rant, “Tetian has broken through the palace barricade.”
Ahhotep glanced at Ahmose-Nefertari but spoke to the guard. “Hide the royal children and signal Per-djed-ken.” Her mind raced as the guard fled the throne room to carry out the order. She stood up and hugged her daughter in case it was the last time she could do so in this life. “Be brave, my daughter. Stand strong.”
Ahmose-Nefertari nodded. “I am not afraid.”
“Good. Men like Tetian can smell fear.”
Her hand slid over the long handle of the King’s golden gilded mace hooked behind Ahmose’s throne. She had hoped never to use it, but she assumed her hopes were lost in probability.
Remembering the look Tetian gave her mother when she had asked for the prince’s authorities, she called to another guard. “Bring Great Wife Tetisheri.” Then she muttered after the guard left, “Maybe she can talk sense into her fellow Ta-Setian.”
Ahmose-Nefertari ran her hand down the throne’s chair arm. “We shall not merely give Tetian the throne. It does not belong to him,” she uttered in low tones as a third guard handed the two royal women each a dagger.
Ahhotep ran her thumb down the blade’s handle. She knew how to wield one, but it had been years since she had trained with it. She had opted to train with the mace and arrow. The time for negotiation would come if they could not stop Tetian from further ingress. The shouts and screams grew louder as they neared their location.
She slipped the dagger into the folds of her leather beaded belt, as did Ahmose-Nefertari.
“Horus, protect your throne this day,” she said and looked at the sunlight flowing in from the open door. The remaining guards twisted their maces and spears in their hands as the roar of footsteps intensified.
Ahhotep snapped to garner their attention, knowing the fighting that was besting the guards along the palace’s entrance would only end with the two queens left defenseless in the throne room. But a soldier who unjustly killed a man in surrender was sure to have his heart devoured by Ammit. She hoped no soldier would risk that, so she gambled with her next order.
“Guards, do not fight them when they arrive. Surrender. Surely they would not kill those who do not resist.” The images of her father and Tao and Kamose lined the throne room walls smiting their enemies. They would be with them that day. “Hide a weapon, for they will take what is visible. And then wait for my signal.”
Her maidservants bowed before their precious royal vessels as the guards did what they were told. “We give our lives to protect the women whose veins run with divine blood.”
Ahhotep cupped the cheek of Nena and then of Meret. “If I live, I will ensure you, all of you,” she glanced to the other maidservants of her daughter and then to the guards, “will go to the afterlife with as much as we can give.”
A sudden dark shadow loomed in the throne room’s doorway like a black stain on the painted reliefs on the floor.
Ahhotep dropped her hands to her sides.
“Tetian,” she said in a brooding tone.
He said nothing in return, but his shadow grew longer and nearly touched the dais as he walked forward, noting the guards at ease. His soldiers came in behind him like fire rushing upon new wood. Baufre and Metjen entered with a few of their soldiers as well.
Ahhotep’s heart beat hard in her chest. What signal am I going to give? What am I going to do? Isis, Horus, Amun, and Re! Protect this throne from the greedy.
Underneath a stern countenance, she held her breath to keep from rasping for air. She scanned the throne room. The traitorous soldiers confiscated the guards’ weapons but did not kill them. Her gamble had paid off. The white painted streaks across a handful of the invaders’ faces and the solid gold circles dangling from their earlobes gave them away as the elite of the Kushite kingdom.
He dares to bring Kushites to the throne room. Has he gone mad? Has Ammit already devoured his heart?
Letting out a captive breath in slow release, she counted the number of men Tetian had brought and noticed they barely filled the throne room. But more soldiers rushed by the open doors toward the harem and the king’s quarters and crossed the courtyard to other parts of the palace.
Tetian came toe-to-toe with the dais and popped his neck while staring at Ahmose-Nefertari. He bounced the head of his mace in an open palm. His clothes were unstained and unwrinkled, meaning he had never used his mace nor fought in battle.
“The throne is empty and weak, Chief Royal Wife.” A smug face accompanied his words.
Ahhotep stepped in front of it, drawing his gaze. “The throne is not empty, nor is it weak,” she growled.
“Then where is your son, God’s Mother?” Tetian roared as Kushite and rebel Kemet soldiers drew their bows and arrows or lifted their maces and axes. “Ah yes, the great Kamose is slain, little Binpu is entombed, the man Sapair hides like a coward, and the last one, ah, Ahmose. Where is Ahmose? No word or aid has come from the king, his general or admiral, or even the now powerless nomarchs?” he asked in sardonic play.
He mocked her pain. The burned image of Kamose returning to Sedjefatawy blurred her sight and soured her tongue, twisting her mouth into a grimace.
Tetian asked again, his tone matter-of-fact. “Have you heard from our king in the last year?” His soft smirk indicated to Ahhotep that he was in control of this conversation. He already knew the answer, for no aid had come, or if it had, Tetian had been able to keep them at bay.
Ahhotep said nothing, not knowing what question to ask to turn the conversation in her favor. She glanced at the doors, hoping her mother would come soon. Perhaps he would still respect her and submit to her will.
Tetian smirked. “You had declared King Ahmose would have victory over the Hekka Khasut within the year. But it has been a year. So where is he, Ahhotep?”
The lack of her title seared her anger on her cheeks and sealed her mouth.
“Must be slain or about to be slain,” he continued. “He has not come to the northern Nile barricade, Baufre has so willingly set up.”
She swallowed her anger and relaxed her face. She had to stay calm. She had to be in control.
“Do I speak with truth, Ahhotep?”
She could not confirm it even though she knew it to be true. Not in the situation they were in.
Tetian chuckled and looked around at his men in the room. “No, we have not heard from the King in a year as he let his palace succumb to siege. We can assume, then, he and his army were burned as traitors, and the Hekka Khasut make their way here.” He faced Ahhotep once more, glancing at Ahmose-Nefertari. “Give your son’s wife and crown to me, and I will spare the rest of your lives.”
Ahhotep noticed that Baufre’s and Metjen’s men filled more of the throne room. “If you cease your attack now, Prince Tetian, I will pardon you and Princes Baufre and Metjen for the blood you have already spilled.”
Tetian laughed. “This woman believes she can win this battle.”
The Kushites and the traitorous men of Kemet laughed along with him, but Baufre held a cautious countenance.
Tetian stepped onto the dais with a scoffing smirk. “Do not make me kill these men loyal to you.” He gestured to the guards with his mace and then repeated his offer. “Give me the crown and your daughter, and I will spare everyone in this palace loyal to you.” An eyebrow raised. “It is a generous offer, is it not? I could simply kill you all right now.”
“Is this what you came to negotiate all those years ago? Your bid for the crown?” Ahhotep asked, stalling for her mother to arrive, hoping they had spared her as she came to the throne room.
The fears from the distant past resurfaced as she remembered the sleepless nights spent worrying and planning what she would do if they were attacked by the Hekka Khasut. How she would get her family to safety, but those plans and worries faded the more Ahmose had pushed into the Lower. The notion that Tetian would rise against them nagged the back of her mind, but she had not heeded it, and she found herself greatly unprepared for this internal insurgence.
Tetian shrugged. “That does not matter anymore.”
Ahmose-Nefertari stood beside her mother. “Prince Tetian, you take to violence when simple negotiation would suffice. You will never share my bed. I am sacred, the Chief Wife of King Ahmose, Given Life. You are but a greedy and jealous fool who thinks violence can replace a divine appointment.”
Tetian stepped closer, but Ahmose-Nefertari’s maidservant stepped in between her and him. “You shall not come closer to the Chief Wife,” the maidservant said.
Tetian peered over the maidservant’s head before turning his focus back to Ahhotep.
“Then tell me, Ahhotep. Where are your last remaining sons so they may fulfill your great-grandfather’s claim of divine appointment? Are they still in the land of the living? Or have they gone to the Field of Reeds? Where is Ahmose’s son so that he may be King in the likely demise of his father?”
Ahhotep spoke firmly and directed her gaze on Baufre and Metjen. Perhaps they could be turned back. “King Ahmose is alive until we otherwise hear of it. Then one of his sons will take his place if he is not.”
“Which son?” Tetian opened his arms wide to ask, “Where are they?”
He looked around and chuckled. “Oh yes, Ahmose, his brother, and his sons have all perished. Sapair, Ahmose-Ankh, Siamun, Ramose, Ahmose-Sipair, Amenhotep?”
“His name is King Ahmose. And you will address God’s Mother as God’s Mother. The princes Ramose, Sapair, and Amenhotep still live as well. Your words are spoken in error.”
Tetian shook his head. “I gave orders to kill them, so they will not be living for long. It is time to end this divine charade. The power is with the princes and should always be. You overstepped by asking us to step down. You are not fit to lead—you or your sons, grandsons. It is better for Kemet to be rid of your bloodline.”
At that statement, Baufre cleared his throat. “We never agreed to kill any of the royalty, Prince Tetian.” His meek voice barely traveled over the stone floor. “We only wanted them to reconsider our prince’s title. You said we would be poor and hungry if we gave up our prince hood.” Metjen nodded in agreement.
The prince spun around to berate Baufre, and Metjen stilled. “Silence, you fool.” Tetian shook his head with a curled lip. “What do you think we were going to do? Come in and ask for the throne when she demanded we give up our title and authority?” He walked to the edge of the dais. “With a legion of soldiers? After a year of siege?”
“Yes,” Baufre mumbled and hid his neck between perched shoulders. “Since you said they were failing the Upper and King Ahmose was slain.”
“You have blood on your hands now, Baufre,” Tetian said with a sneer. “Remember that, you pitiful man of an empty mind.” He faced Ahhotep once again. “Last chance, Ahhotep. Give your daughter and crown to me, and I will spare those loyal to you.”
Ahhotep remained silent, looking past Tetian at Baufre and Metjen. Their soldiers looked at their princes. There was hesitation, she noticed. Yet, Tetian’s soldiers and the Kushites had bloodlust in their eyes. Perhaps, if she could turn Baufre and Metjen, they could push Tetian back.
He lifted his mace high and swung it, so the bronze hummed through the air. The threat made her speak.
“Even if I were to give you my daughter as your wife and my son’s crown, even the men in this room who claim to be your supporters do not support you. I can see it in their eyes. You will have two wars on your hands—with those in the north and with those who know you will have spilled divine blood.”
Tetian snorted. “I will show you, Ahhotep; these men want me for their king.” He faced the throne room audience. “We need a man. A man with resources beyond fathom who can ask for a prince’s resources but not need them to enact the will of the gods. A man who keeps powerful princes by his side—not throws them out of his palace. A man divinely appointed by Khnum, Divine Potter, He Who Made Gods and Men, The Great Nile God, from where he shall spring forth victory against our foes. Who is this Amun who must usurp power from the other nomes’ patron gods? Who is this Amun of Waset, the Hidden One, to rival that of Khnum of Ta-Seti, who has no need to prove a divine appointment? We, the nomes, have pledged oaths to this false family and the weaker god in error.”
