Warrior King, page 7
A pit opened in her stomach to devour the reality of the statement. Her mouth, now dry, forced a gummy swallow of the sudden lump in her throat. “Do not let the princes know this,” she whispered. “They would not send their men to battle for our people who do not wish to be liberated.”
Kamose nodded his head as he took another bite and finished chewing. “If we continue down the Nile to Men-nefer and beyond to Hut-Waret, we will only encounter more traitors.”
Ahhotep sat back in her chair. “Then we must liberate Kerma as quickly as possible. We need their gold and their warriors.”
Tetian caught her eye. He had barely eaten and sat with his fingers pressed together, poised in front of his mouth. His black, beady eyes stared straight at her.
A slithering tendril of the coming winter’s chill slipped down her spine at his unsettling behavior. Why would he look at her so? Was this all about Abu? His precious Ta-Seti had been left unharmed, and it was not like he was helping secure his own border. He had been nothing but disrespectful since he had come. At least Kamose’s progress had satiated Setka and Nakht, but Tetian remained unappeasable. She spat a slight huff. Why would I expect anything different from that man? Why does he treat my family in such a way?
Kamose lowered his mutton and stood up, causing a swift silence over the dining hall. All eyes turned to him except Tetian’s, whose gaze remained on Ahhotep.
As if her mother sensed Ahhotep’s discomfort, Tetisheri stood and cleared her throat. “Your King is about to speak.” She looked pointedly at Tetian. “Give him your attention.” Then she sat back down with a hard stare on her weathered face.
Ahhotep knew that would be the last time her mother spoke for her. I must earn my respect. No fear. No fear, she repeated in thought as she stared at Tetian.
A corner of Tetian’s mouth popped up in a playful smirk before he slid his gaze from Ahhotep to Kamose with a tilt of his head.
Kamose held out his hands. “We have victory in the north. We have secured the nomes to Mednit—”
“Yet, where is their prince?” Baufre spoke up while rubbing his large belly in a slow circle.
Ahhotep shot up as her mother had in her father’s absence. “You dare interrupt your King?” Flame burst to life in her eyes at the blatancy of disrespect. And I selfishly thought this part of the unification was over, and from Baufre, of all people? she thought and said, “Guards.”
Two royal guards approached Baufre, who shrank back and lifted his hands. “I dare not interrupt the King,” he said in a shaky slur of words. His shoulders hid his thick neck, and his wig-covered head bowed low so the top of it was all anyone could see of his head.
Perhaps Baufre only has the mind of any empty room. Hopefully, his disrespect is born of dimness, not from disdain like Tetian’s.
Ahhotep remained standing as if daring anyone else to interrupt her son again. A slight nod of approval came from Admiral Baba and General Pennekhbet.
Yet Tetian stood and pointed a long finger at her son.
Ahhotep hesitated. Should I stop him from speaking now? What do I do? What is he going to say? Mother would stop him. She opened her mouth to speak, but it was too late.
“You have secured victory in the north, King Kamose,” Tetian bellowed and commanded the attention of all in the room.
The breath begged for release within Ahhotep’s chest as she waited to hear what else Tetian would say.
His bold voice continued. “Yet to the south, the Kushites take advantage of a war-torn Kemet—”
Say something, you fool! She choked on a flurry of words in her throat as Tetian continued.
“—You are no king of mine who lets my nome of Ta-Seti be overrun—“
“You, Prince Tetian,” Ahhotep’s voice cut through the tense dining hall, “as all of you have taken an oath to my father and your father to his father. You named Seqenenre Tao Lord of the Two Lands, and he took his Great Wife, Tetisheri as his Chief Wife. You all thereby gave an oath to his progeny. You declared your submission to the great unification of Kemet. You should honor this divine bloodline more than any other.”
Kamose continued where she paused. She had failed to prevent the threat to the throne and Tetisheri’s beam now firmly rested upon her grandson as if disowning Ahhotep at the moment. Ahhotep clenched her teeth in anger at herself while Kamose spoke:
“Through their blood and my marriage to my sisters, Ahhotep Tasherit and Hentempet, and my forthcoming marriage to my third sister, Ahmose-Nefertari, I have sealed my divine right to rule Kemet. Do you question your oath before Re? Before Amun? Before my father and his fathers before him?”
Tetian pursed his lips yet remained silent. A few princes shook their heads, but others lifted their chins and crossed their arms. They glanced between Tetian and Kamose.
Ahhotep let her son speak, who continued for the nay-sayers. “As my forefathers before me, we had proven our lineage from the great Kings of Waset, Rahotep and Sobekhotep, who restored the temple of Amun and who first spoke of a united Upper and Lower as it once was before the foreigners overtook our fertile delta and from them rose the Hekka Khasut. You gave an oath to Amun, to Re, to Hathor, and Isis. Our family was to be Re’s hand and rescue the two lands from the Hekka Khasut. But because one nome suffers defense from the Kushites after years of plenty, you break the will of Re? We celebrate this day for the victories of adding five nomes to our cause. Tomorrow, we will sail upriver and secure the faithful Medjay’s homeland. They have shown more loyalty to the crown and to Re than some of the princes before me now, who have never seen war.”
He paused to let his last statement reverberate through the hall.
“Thus princes of the Upper, this, on my divine appointment, I will not forget Ta-Seti.”
Tetian’s eyes narrowed. “As the King commands. We will be most grateful for the King’s rescue of Ta-Seti.” His statement ended in a throat-born whisper.
Baba and Pennekhbet stood up and faced the princes. Baba spoke: “Kamose, Given Life, Living Horus, will fulfill Re’s desires of a united land. We set sail tomorrow. You are free to join us in battle, and if you feel you cannot, send your resources to support this campaign or send your capable men and boys to Per-djed-ken to train up as soldiers under the Medjay and secure their place under our god Anhur’s protective hand. We will need more soldiers, for we left a strong border at the cusp of the Lower.”
Pennekhbet eyed the few who remained cross-armed, and his gaze came to rest upon Tetian, who still had only contributed very little to the cause despite his nome’s bountiful trade with the gold-resource-rich Kermans in the land of Wawat. “And if you cannot do any of them, it is advisable you still your tongue.”
Tetian sneered at the implied command as he eyed the two highest military officers. He sat down and dug his teeth into the mutton before him as his gaze shifted to Ahhotep. His tongue slid over his lips to lick the meat’s juice from them.
Ahhotep looked away to Baufre. The guards she had summoned to threaten him glanced at each other before down at Baufre, who was eating with a gleeful forgetfulness that they were even there. His mutton rested on his ample belly between bites.
“The Meseh nome is with King Kamose,” Baufre said, lifting his leg of lamb in the air and seemingly unaware of the political tension in the room.
Metjen glanced at him in disgust. After his soft scoff, he shared a glance with Tetian before returning to his meal.
What plans do you have, Tetian and Metjen? I know you are upset about Abu, but that is no way to treat or speak to your king. Ahhotep calmed the thoughts and knots in her stomach by scanning the room. And a dim prince could be easily swayed from his support, she thought as she watched Baufre take another bite. But the tension waned once Tetian began to eat from the King’s court once more.
“General, Admiral,” Ahhotep said with a soft gesture of her hand. “Please, sit, eat.”
They lowered their heads.
“We are most gracious for the King’s and God’s Mother’s generosity,” Pennekhbet said and sat next to his wife, Nebt, and ten-year-old daughter, Kasmut.
Baba sat similarly between his eight-year-old daughter, Senseneb, and son, Ahmose-Ebana. He glanced at Pennekhbet’s wife before glancing to the empty spot where his late wife should have been sitting.
Ahhotep felt the same sting in her heart, but it was not for Tao, not anymore. Baba turned his eyes to her, and she realized she was staring at him. She should have averted her gaze, but she naturally gave him a small, pressed smile of sympathy. He lifted a corner of his mouth with an appreciative nod before giving his attention to his children.
The feast ended late in the night, and the princes with full bellies went to the guest apartments on either side of the palace for the night. Nebt took Kasmut to their villa, and Ahmose-Ebana took Senseneb to theirs when Ahhotep requested the general and admiral to stay behind and speak with her and her mother.
They sat in the council room on the palace’s first floor next to the throne room. The firelight in the alabaster torches lined the room’s back wall as Ahhotep leaned forward on the table to speak.
“I know the day has been long, but we have a matter that needs tending before the campaign to retake Buhen,” she began. “Tetian and a few others will not support us until we secure its fortress.”
Tetisheri remained unusually silent but cast a disappointed frown toward her daughter. Ahhotep ignored her.
“The matter needing tending is regarding the horses?” Baba asked. “And chariots?”
Ahhotep nodded. “I know very little about this animal. Many of our numbers are perplexed by it.” Ahhotep looked off at the reliefs in the walls showing her grandfather as a mighty ruler over the Upper, knowing the exaggerated truths it depicted. It was what he wished for, but it had taken two lifetimes simply for the Upper to be united against the Hekka Khasut, and even then, the unity was fragile.
Tetisheri hummed, and Ahhotep snapped, “What have you to say, Mother?”
“I have nothing to say, Daughter,” Tetisheri said with narrowed eyes at her disuse of titles.
She was a liar. Ahhotep pressed her lips into a thin, polite smile. Left her to suffer without aiding the conversation, she supposed.
Baba sighed. “We could send a caravan across the Dashret and build a ship in the abandoned port on the Red Sea. Steal across the water and contact the Bedu people who raise these animals daily.”
“It is a risk. They may not even listen to us or help us. They may kill our messenger and escort. Steal the barter goods.” Pennekhbet crossed his arms.
“What choice do we have?” Ahhotep asked. “It will take resources away from our fight in Abu and our border in Mednit. We would need to send the escort, a shipbuilding crew, the materials, camels, food, water, beer . . ." Her voice trailed off. “Much gold and grain to pay the Bedu.”
Kamose sighed. “Much gold and grain that we do not have as it will be spent in retaking Buhen.”
“Ta-Seti has it, but Tetian will not hand it over,” Pennekhbet said.
“At least until we retake Buhen,” Kamose nodded, not having to repeat the cyclic situation they had found themselves in.
“I doubt he will follow through even if we have victory there,” Ahhotep said.
“The man’s heart will be heavy with greed on the scales of Ma’at,” the general added in a harsh undertone.
Ahhotep looked to her mother, who returned her stare with an expressionless face.
Say something! Tell me what to do. I need your help. But she would never say those words aloud to Tetisheri. For one, it would make her look weak. And two, the woman was frustrating, and her help would come with some demeaning remark and lifelong reminder.
Kamose glanced around. “Where is my wife?”
Tetisheri cleared her throat. “Chief Wife Ahhotep Tasherit felt ill after eating. Could not stomach such disrespect and tension from the evening’s meal.” She clicked her tongue in obvious disapproval. “Disappointing.”
The word was left for those in company to ponder if the Great Wife meant her granddaughter or if the situation at the meal was disappointing.
Ahhotep figured it was the former. It was not the first time she had voiced her disappointment with her firstborn grandchild.
Kamose shifted in his seat. “What should we do?”
Ahhotep shrugged. “We only have one choice that will yield the most optimum result. We will save what gold and grain we can to send to the Bedu. I would only rather send one caravan. We will send for these trainers when we can afford to barter.”
Baba and Pennekhbet nodded in solemnity.
“How do we continue the war against those with superior weaponry?” Kamose asked. “We lost many men in Nefrusy, Hardai, and Tepihu.”
Baba nodded. “We did, and we will lose many more until we can afford to meet the Hekka Khasut on similar terms. But the Kushites have no superior weapons, only an excellent source of resources. We need their gold if we have any chance of winning this war.”
“Agreed,” Pennekhbet added. “We cannot push much farther into the Hekka Khasut lands without considerable force from the local people. Their princes are not loyal to you, King Kamose. How are we to unite a people who do not want to be united?”
The question lingered in the small space between them and repeated in Ahhotep’s mind. She pushed it away, for she knew not the answer. “Let us move north after we secure the south. Kushites have no horses, and our khopesh is superior to their spear.”
“In close distances,” Baba clarified. “Their numbers are as many as their spears.”
“And at night, the Hekka Khasut’s paler skin gives them away under the moon. We will not have such a luxury with the Kushites.” Kamose crossed his arms. “We have no choice. We must meet the Kushites at Abu and push them back. Conquer them before Apepi re-establishes communication with them and brings them into an alliance. As Mother says, we must secure peace in the south before we head north.”
He sighed.
“Let us meet in the morning to discuss our campaign strategy for fighting this foe and smite any hope of alliance between our enemies.” Kamose hid a yawn. “I tire and need to renew my energy.”
Ahhotep pictured the Nile’s path. She had never been south of the nome of Ta-Seti. She had never even seen the first cataract at Abu. But she pictured the Kerman homeland following the river. Past Abu was Toshka and then Arminna, and after a long stretch, Buhen, the trade fortress, near the second cataract. Much gold was there. They had to retake Buhen. It would again prove the divine’s appointment of her family’s right to rule. It would garner all the princes’ full support, or so she hoped. Though if victorious, Tetian could no longer use any doubt in the princes for his advantage, whatever his motivation was: greed or hate, she still did not know, but she did know Buhen was essential. Buhen had to be recaptured, no matter the cost.
No matter the cost? she thought, second-guessing her ruminations. It was the same reasoning she gave when the offer of peace came from the Hekka Khasut. And four years later, they were still at war. She glanced at her son, once again imagining him brought home as Tao was. Not that cost. Never that cost. And she turned her head away, unable to bear losing a child, slain by the enemy, or worse, burned.
“As the King commands,” Pennekhbet said with a bow, breaking her thoughts.
Kamose dismissed him and Baba: “In peace, sleep well.”
Ahhotep watched Baba as he exited the room, hoping he would steal one last look at her, but he continued to walk out, not looking back. A small pit opened in her stomach. Her gaze fell downcast.
He would never make such an advance on God’s Mother. Why cause herself to endure more disappointment than she already had? Leave it, she commanded herself.
Tetisheri yawned after their shadows disappeared in the night. “You did well, my grandson,” she said with a pat on his shoulder but said nothing to Ahhotep. There would be no forgiveness after her slip at dinner. Ahhotep sat with eyes still downcast, distressed and disturbed Kamose would perish like his father. As her thoughts drifted to Tao to push away the visions of Kamose’s mangled body, she couldn’t help but wonder if she would ever feel a man’s touch again as the room’s emptiness sealed her feelings of loneliness. How could her mother endure after losing her husband and son and still treat the rest of her children and grandchildren with such apathy, save for Kamose, of whom she was most proud?
No one ever spoke to Tetisheri for fear of being demeaned. Her mother demanded competence in its perfect form, and many fell short. Ahhotep’s fears could not be voiced around the one person who could probably help her in her role as God’s Mother and tutor to Tep as she commanded in Kamose’s absence. She sat back in the chair, watching the flickering torchlight cast shadows on the wall reliefs. It made it look like the depictions of her father and Tao were moving and living up to the greatness the walls recorded. She took a deep breath and shook her head, wondering if she would ever be the queen her mother wanted her to be, the queen Kemet needed, or if lies and exaggerated truths would have to be recorded about her as well.
8
A TIME OF VAIN LOSS | AHHOTEP
SEDJEFATAWY, 1570 BC
A year passed, and Ahhotep stood in the throne room with General Pennekhbet, who had returned from the northern border. Tep stood on the other side of the throne while Tetisheri sat in the back sipping her cooled karkade tea, waiting to see how Ahhotep would respond.
The General waited for her command. His words repeated in her mind as a growing stiffness overpowered her curled fist: “The Hekka Khasut have retaken Tepihu. Their prince Sarenpet paid tribute to King Apepi. The nome of Mednit is lost from our borders.”
Vizier Tetinefer cleared his throat at her silence and shifted on his feet, glancing at the throne room guards.
In a moment of hesitation, she yelled, “Scribe.”
