Warrior King, page 34
42
A TIME OF GRIEVING | AHMOSE
SEDJEFATAWY, 1549 BC
It had been two years since the victory at Sedjefatawy. Ahmose had come home from his success in the north, seized Ta-Seti, and forced the Kushites back into submission with the help of the Viceroy Si-Tayet’s four remaining units. They had been preoccupied with Kushite attacks for the year Sedjefatawy was under siege. They had never known about Ta-Seti’s involvement until Ahmose had come to aid them.
The King had returned to his palace and walked along the path to the West of Waset and stood in front of the re-sealed tomb of his sons and daughter. His guards followed at a distance.
His hands folded behind his back, and his head bowed. “I should have left five hundred men,” he muttered, his gaze downcast. “I should have secured the Upper before returning to capture Hut-Waret.” He wanted to fall on his knees before his sons’ tomb, but he refrained since footsteps sounded behind him. He lifted his head in solemnity, for the king bowed to no one. His mother’s sweet and earthen perfume proceeded her presence beside him.
“You would have been proud, Ahmose,” Ahhotep said in muted tones. “Ramose had wanted to be like his great father. He fought with the soldiers of Sedjefatawy when they attacked the place where the royal children were hiding.”
“But he was only twelve. Did no one tell him he would not be successful against the Kushite and Ta-Setian elite?”
Ahhotep pressed her lips into a thin line. “Yes, but he wanted to protect his sister-wife and his siblings.”
He shook his head. “He was slain before even becoming a man.” His fingers dug into the palms of his hands.
“He had become a man even though his age determined otherwise. He had taken a wife and fathered a child. Ramose was well-trained with the mace. He enjoyed his life, and now, he is in the Field of Reeds in eternal happiness.”
Ahmose could not bring himself to look at his mother. The shame and guilt rose on his cheeks. “Still, he should have known he had not even reached the age to fight in the King’s campaigns on his own.”
His mother’s voice soothed him as when he was a boy. “I once had a son of eight years who thought he could best a Kushite since the Medjay had trained him.”
Ahmose pursed his lips at his mother’s comment regarding himself at a young age. “Well, then. I suppose father like son.”
“He wanted to be like you, the great expeller of foreign kings,” Ahhotep said. Her hand slipped into his, and she wrapped her petite arm around his frame, built by years of war.
Although he had thirty-one years in the land of the living, there was still something about holding his mother’s hand and being comforted by her embrace. He heard the guards shuffle and turn around.
“I should have been here to protect my family, Mother. I took all the nomes’ men with us into the Lower. I left you defenseless. Because of my neglect, Tep and Ramose are slain.”
“No, Ahmose. We all considered the possibility of Tetian’s uprising, but we all disregarded it as improbable. The nomes would never do such a thing. We put five units with Si-Tayet in Kush to protect us from uprisings there. Without your two hundred men, I am sure Sedjefatawy would have fallen in defeat very quickly after the siege. Yes, Tep and Ramose were slain, but the palace was saved. Your divine appointment proved to all.”
He tore away from Ahhotep. Was he supposed to feel happy about her words? His second crown prince was now in his tomb. Only one son remained. He had overlooked Tetian’s threat. He had disregarded his presence. And it cost him dearly. Now, the Apiru in the north were plentiful, too plentiful, and perhaps that threat should not be disregarded. Never again would he assume peaceful relations. Never again would he make the same mistake. As soon as they were able, his next decree would be to set taskmasters over the Apiru. Rebuild the Lower with their labor. Show them who is King of this land in which they sojourn. Ensure there would never be another uprising again.
His cheeks boiled red as he turned to his mother. “My divine appointment may be proved, but I proved it again by sending as many Kushites to Ammit as possible. I slew every Ta-Setian soldier that did not surrender and put the rest to work in the fields. I will not let this event upon my house be lost to time. I will not let threats become realized. I will be the king that is remembered for eternity. My kin will not have been slain in vain!”
He slammed his fist on the stone face, and his heartbeat pounded in his ears.
Ahhotep straightened her shoulders. “Do what you must, King Ahmose.” Her head lowered to him. “I only request you keep vigil over your heart. I see your anger. I see your guilt. You must accept that you did what you could. What if you had left one thousand men here? You may not have retaken Hut-Waret and lost the war. Do not dwell on this, for it will heavy your heart. Do not let what happened here determine the fate of your journey west. We need you to become one with Re so the sun may rise again the next day. Otherwise, you give us all to Apep.”
Those were wise words from his mother. His fist loosened. “I promise to keep vigil, Mother. But I will never let you suffer because of my neglect again.” He drew near her again and saw Ahmose-Nefertari coming up the path with her maidservants in tow. They held lotus blossoms as an offering to the slain children.
He placed a hand on Ahhotep’s shoulder while his gaze remained on his chief wife, whose cheeks were wet with tears.
“Never again,” he whispered.
43
A TIME OF AMENDS | AHHOTEP
SEDJEFATAWY, 1549 BC
Ahhotep glanced at General Pennekhbet and Baba’s son, who sat in the Admiral’s place. She had only a few official reasons to summon Baba or to speak with him since his son was appointed in his place almost two years ago. She had watched father bequeath the title to son in the throne room and Ahmose grant them both honors and gold. Her heart had turned in her chest as Baba left the throne room. Would that be the last time she saw him? He would no longer be a member of the King’s council.
She had stressed many nights to devise a plausible reason to speak to him and summon him to the council room while Ahmose was off fighting and keeping the peace in his conquered lands. It was mainly for reports of what happened in the north. Only once had he been able to kiss her before anyone could see what was happening. So, she had been reduced to staring at his son while in council, wishing he was his father.
“Great Wife Ahhotep,” Ahmose said, pulling her from her thoughts. She turned her attention to him. She had not been listening. His gaze darted between her and the Admiral’s place.
She furrowed her brow, pretending to think about the following words she would say to whatever question she was asked. Then she noticed her mother’s steward at the council room door. A sigh of relief barely escaped her lips before she smiled and asked, “What is it, royal steward?”
“Great Wife Tetisheri requests your presence.” He looked between Ahhotep, Ahmose, and Ahmose-Nefertari. “All her family’s presence.”
Ahmose stood up. “We shall continue this discussion after the King meets with the Great Wife.”
Ahhotep rose with her daughter, and they followed the steward to Tetisheri. She lay on a table in the courtyard with blankets draped over her aged body and a headrest under her neck. The steward bowed again before Ahmose. “She wanted to journey west under the Aten, the sun barge of Re,” he whispered before leaving the royal family to Tetisheri’s side.
She had ceased to eat and drink and had grown weak. The deep creases in her forehead and by her eyes and lips showed the hard life she had lived and the weight of the burden she had carried for so long.
Ahhotep saw it and felt it. She ran a finger along the side of her lip, feeling the formed wrinkles. Each woman had carried their burdens differently, but it was the same weight, regardless.
Ahmose reached out and touched his grandmother’s hand. Her eyes fluttered open. “I am glad you came,” she rasped. “The Aten warms me.” She sniffled. “I was never warm to you, my children, or my grandchildren. I never made peace with Tep, and I hope I will make my peace with her in the Field of Reeds.”
She turned her head to Ahmose. “My grandson, you have done so well. I am proud to be your grandmother. Your name will be remembered forever.” With a weak finger, she warned. “But this I leave you, we overlooked Tetian’s presence as a threat.” Her eyes closed, and her head shook. “No, I overlooked Tetian as a threat. Do not make my mistake.”
Ahmose grimaced as if he felt her words. “It was my negl—”
“No,” she whispered and put a finger to his lips. “It was mine. I see my error and now, my grandson, heed my advice: oppress the remaining Aamu, the Apiru,” Tetisheri interjected as if she only had a few words left and little time to say them. “They will rise like the Hekka Khasut. All of this will be in vain.” She lifted her head to plead. “Promise me; you will not let our spilled blood be in vain.”
Ahmose gritted, “I have already decided it will be so, Grandmother. My children, my brother and sister, will not have been slain for naught.”
Her head lowered in satisfaction with his response. She lifted a weak hand to his cheek. “You are a good king,” she said in a rasp. “Worthy of every praise, Ahmose, Given Life.” A weak smile perched on her lips. Her hand fell as if her arm gave out.
She shifted her sights to Ahmose-Nefertari. “My granddaughter, you as well. The gods bless you. I have never heard one ill word about you. The people, the nomarchs, they all love you. They will need your care as your children have received.”
She shifted her focus to Ahhotep, and her gaze bore into Ahhotep’s eyes.
“My Ahhotep, you have my pride. You will now be the matriarch. Lead your family well; I have no more lessons to teach.”
She rasped and grabbed Ahhotep’s hand. “Every time I told you that you were unworthy, I should have said, I love you, but you need to be better prepared. That has been my error, my burden, and it drove my family apart.”
Tetisheri shook her head as tears streamed down into her quivering mouth. “I only wanted what was best for Kemet, but you, you wanted the same, and you have found balance and peace. I never found it until this day. I hope my heart will not weigh heavy on the scales of Ma’at.”
“Mother, I—”
“I must rest now and close my eyes, for they have been opened for far too long.” Her eyes drifted closed.
Ahhotep brushed her mother’s cheek with the back of her fingers and smoothed away a few wiry silver stray hairs from her false braids. Her mother’s breath came in spurts, but Tetisheri rolled her cheek into Ahhotep’s palm. “My firstborn,” she whispered.
A thick lump grew in the back of Ahhotep’s throat. All those years spent hating her mother when she could have loved her if she had only spent the time to understand her. Ahhotep kneeled beside the table and rubbed her mother’s brow to smooth out the hard-worn wrinkles. They had not been there when she was a child, but when she became queen, there had always been the sign of burden on her brow. Ahhotep placed her lips on her mother’s forehead, envisioning her as a young woman loving her brother’s child as her own and leaving him because she was forced to marry another she did not love. Standing as the regent in her young son’s place without a mother or father to help guide her, while earning respect among the nomes as a queen regent for her son Tao. Leading the divine family up as best as she could, knowing the hard days would come, but seeing them through with the only strength she knew. It made her heart swell with pride for the woman who bore her. A tear ran freely down each cheek, as she whispered, “Go to the Field of Reeds in peace, Mother.”
Soon after, Tetisheri fell asleep, and her chest forever stilled.
44
A TIME FOR KEMET | AHHOTEP
SEDJEFATAWY, 1548 BC
The Aten’s rays fell from Re onto the temple of Amun and on the nomarchs in the temple’s courtyard.
Ahhotep and Ahmose-Nefertari stood at the forecourt entrance to the temple, their eyes downcast as Ahmose emerged from the inner sanctum. Two high priests of Amun bowed and closed the doors behind him while he proceeded down the long corridor toward the royal women.
Kemet now stretched from the land of Wawat to the Great Sea, and her son was Kemet’s one divine king. Ahhotep let out a deep breath, and the corners of her mouth turned upward. She imagined Tao, Kamose, and Ramose walking alongside Ahmose down the corridor. They had been slain for this moment and would be proud to see it finally come to fruition.
Nobles and officials were tightly packed, and they waited to hear their King speak after communing with Amun.
Ahmose lifted his hands to those gathered before him. “The King’s victories are Amun’s victories!”
The men and women gathered erupted in cheer but were quickly silenced when Ahmose clenched his fist. Ahhotep nodded her head at the man and king he had become.
“From this day forward,” Ahmose began. “Amun and Re will be one god. Re, God of the Sun, has lifted Amun, The Hidden One, the patron god of Waset, by raising up the divine in his nome as the true King. Amun-Re shall be the highest god because The Lord of Strength is Re, Ahmose, Given Life has prevailed against our enemies.”
Ahhotep held her breath for his next decree. They had just ended a war; how would the people react? She glanced at him to see if he needed reassurance, but he did not need her confidence anymore. He only scanned the forecourt and the courtyard beyond and spoke in a commanding voice.
“Since the King and his armies have expelled the Hekka Khasut from Kemet, he shall now subject those who remain. Return to the great halls of record. How did the Hekka Khasut take the Lower over one hundred years ago? Aamu from the Levant settled in the best of our land as traders and gentle shepherds. And once they multiplied and grew plentiful, they took it without a battle. Out of the Aamu rose the Hekka Khasut, who forced the divine kings south. If we leave the remaining Aamu, these Apiru, as they are, they will once again produce kings, and we will once again be divided. They will unite with our enemies and destroy this new era of Kemet before it begins. Your fathers, brothers, and sons will have perished in vain, as the late Great Wife Tetisheri foretold. The god Amun-Re has spoken; we shall seal our dominion over the Lower—oppress the populous and reign over them.”
The nomarchs clapped and nodded with firm agreement. No one wanted to endure another war.
Ahhotep beamed. Well-spoken, like a true king, she thought, but then she chided herself. He is a true king. Her chest puffed and her chin lifted. He was her son, and hers alone. He was everything she had hoped and prayed he would be. Pride filled her senses, so much so, she did not notice as Vizier Tetinefer approached with a golden plate with three golden flies strung with a golden chain. He presented it to Ahmose as Ahmose continued to speak.
“We shall reign over our enemies, both foreign and internal. The King awards the most prestigious accolades to the royal women who showed prowess, honor, and courage while under duress. Starting with the most coveted and esteemed military award . . .” He lifted the dazzling gold flies in the air, and the Aten’s light danced on their semi-spread wings. The audience gasped at the splendor. He lowered it over Ahhotep’s vulture crown and placed it around her neck.
“For valor and bravery in putting down the rebellion of Tetian and ensuring a man of Kemet shall never again rise up against his king. ”
Ahhotep lifted her gaze to him. The sunlight reflected from the gold around her neck and lit her graceful countenance.
“For smiting the enemies of the King of Kemet as an enduring and tenacious victor. For consolidating divine authority in the name of Amun-Re until the King’s victorious return, God’s Mother, Great Wife, Royal Commander, Queen Ahhotep, is awarded the great honor . . . of the Golden Fly,” he declared to the crowd.
Mitry captured the event in the words of the gods on the tablets to be entered into her tomb as the sistrums and goblet drums rounded out the encore cheer. Ahhotep bowed her head to her son in gratitude for the exceptional award. She had never seen such awards, they were so rare. Painful memories of the rebellion nibbled at the back of her mind, but she pushed them away. She would not let them steal this moment from her. Never had a God’s Mother received such an honor, and she lifted her face to Ahmose in dignity.
Ahmose acknowledged her with a pressed grin before turning to his sister. “Chief Wife Ahmose-Nefertari, to you for your support, honor, and strength, you shall be God’s Wife of Amun, an elevated position because Amun is elevated. You shall be the Divine Adoratrice and the Mistress of Upper and Lower Kemet. Let this great honor be known in all the land. She is now above all others. No other woman can attain her glory.”
He lifted his hands to the skies.
“And for the late Great Wife Tetisheri, the great matriarch of the King’s family, I order a cenotaph to record her name forever and ever.”
Ahhotep smiled as the Aten’s rays fell upon them. Re shone in his brightness down on his appointed one. The gods were satisfied, and a mother could ask for no greater reward.
He stepped forward to continue with the next part of the ceremony and summoned, “Nomarch Paser. To you, the longest supporter of the crown, Amun-Re, and the divine King bless you the most of any other nomarch. You shall receive a storehouse of gold and silver, servants, and a noble’s house for you and all your children. You shall be the highest nomarch, the Nomarch of Waset.”
To each nomarch, he awarded spoils of war aligned to the support they had given.
Lastly, he offered a feast for the morning’s meal. Servants and stewards poured in from the port, bringing the finest cuts of meats and the freshest fruits and vegetables.
