House of Two Pharaohs, page 19
Piay saw many heads nodding in the crowd. His mouth was dry and his heart was pounding in his chest. He took another deep breath to steady himself.
‘The rumours that have swept through the city since the return of the Breath of Horus are true,’ Piay continued. ‘We now face an enemy who wishes to rip all of this away from us, as the Hyksos once did. He dresses in the form of Anubis, masquerading as the god himself. But this man is no god. He is no pharaoh, either, for in his heart there is no love for the people he means to rule. He is a brutal pretender, who hopes to enslave us all with his chains of terror. But we will not let him.’
An angry rumble swelled from one corner of the square and swept like a dust storm across the crowd. Fists shook in the air, and faces burned with defiance.
‘As I speak, our army is preparing to leave the city, to intercept the forces marching south from Avaris. When I leave you here, I will set sail to meet the army downriver, and together we will destroy this pretender before he ever sets eyes on the white walls of Memphis.’ Piay’s voice soared as he thrust a clenched fist into the air. ‘May the gods give us strength as we fight for liberty, and for our future! For Pharaoh! For Memphis!’
As he bellowed the name of the city he governed, the roar of the crowd echoed off the walls of the buildings around the square, so that the very ground they stood on seemed to shake.
‘Nomarch! Nomarch! Nomarch!’
Taita beamed with pride as Piay leapt down from the speaker’s block. Even Hannu was silent for once. As Piay nodded to each of them in turn, he wondered whether his father could hear the booming roar of the crowd from his cell.
‘A rousing speech,’ Hannu admitted.
‘I meant every word. But now comes the real work. May Khonsu smile upon me once again, so that when the task is accomplished, I may have the opportunity to stand and address the people once more.’
Taita laid a hand on Piay’s shoulder. ‘I have no doubt that Khonsu will heed your prayers.’
‘Let’s hope he does,’ Hannu grunted. ‘Because we are all that stands between the Shuyet’s army and Memphis.’
• • •
T
he line of heavily laden carts bounced slowly along the dusty road from Memphis to Peru-nefer, clouds of fat black flies swirling above the heads of the donkeys that hauled them. Beside the carts, driving the animals on with switches, ambled slaves from the palace – those who could be spared from their duties.
Piay felt his anxiety mounting as he watched the caravan approaching the port. If only they could move quicker! The Blue Crocodiles had already sailed north with General Kamose, and he was eager to join them. But he could not do so until the galleys returned and all the supplies were loaded. Only the Breath of Horus had remained in port – replaced in the convoy by two small merchantmen requisitioned by order of the nomarch. Taita would not again be parted from his precious craft – not while the threat of the Shuyet still hung over the delta.
Turning, Piay saw Hannu barging his way through the crowd on the wharf. He was gnawing on a flatbread, ripping off huge chunks and gulping them down as he walked.
‘All is well?’ Piay asked.
‘As well as can be expected under the circumstances.’
Over Hannu’s shoulder, Piay glimpsed Taita striding towards them with the three remaining competitors – Asim, Gyasi and Sadiki – in tow.
When they reached Piay and Hannu, Taita swept out a hand to his three companions. ‘Our friends here will be joining us on the Breath of Horus,’ he said.
Piay frowned. ‘Is this wise? They are unprepared for battle.’
‘It is their next and most difficult test,’ Taita replied. ‘And with any luck, the gods will smile on their participation, and reward us for it.’
Sadiki’s mouth fell open at this revelation. ‘When you said that the next test would be war, I assumed that we would assist with strategy. But you mean for us to fight?’
Taita nodded.
‘What use can we possibly be amongst your soldiers?’ Asim asked.
‘Sharp wits are more useful to me than sharp blades,’ Taita replied.
Gyasi straightened and brushed the hair from her eyes. ‘The Lord High Chancellor is right. If we have not the courage to stand in battle, then how can we ever expect to serve Pharaoh?’
She looked to Taita for approval.
‘Well said, Gyasi,’ Taita said. He turned to Piay. ‘If these three truly are the best that the Lower Kingdom has to offer,’ he continued, ‘then it will be an advantage to have them with us in the heat of battle.’
Hannu wagged a finger at the three competitors. ‘That’s as may be, but if any of you get in my way, I will personally toss you over the side as a feast for the river crocodiles.’
Sadiki recoiled at Hannu’s ferocious manner, but Asim just chuckled.
Gyasi bowed deeply before the Lord High Chancellor. ‘It will be an honour to stand at your side.’
‘Come, then,’ Taita said to the three contestants. ‘Let us leave the nomarch and his assistant to their tasks and take our place on the Breath of Horus. I would like to hear your assessments of our strategy.’
Piay and Hannu watched them go. ‘Talk!’ Hannu snorted.
‘At least it will keep them out of our way,’ Piay replied, turning back to observe the line of carts, the first of which had now finally reached the wharf.
Dock workers hustled over to empty the wagons, wrapping their arms around the jars and bales, forming lines so that the supplies could be passed from one man to the next, into the waiting warehouses. Scribes waited with papyrus parchment and ink to record the supplies as they were delivered.
There were carts filled with green-shooted onions, and others laden with jars of beer. A few carried the balms and oils that the physicians would use to treat the wounded, and one bore a cache of small gods: miniature idols that the sailors could pray to for deliverance at dawn each day.
Newly trained members of the Memphis Guard were being drawn up into ranks on the wharf, their faces determined as they summoned their courage for what was to come. These were the most promising fighters from amongst the men that Hannu had recruited.
Piay felt his chest tighten as he surveyed the proceedings. In his younger days, his arrogance had often deceived him into thinking he was capable of anything, and he had indeed proven victorious in challenges that would have undone lesser men, but as he looked out over the heads of his soldiers, Piay wondered how many of their young lives it would cost to keep the city safe.
‘They will need the help of the gods to come out of this in one piece,’ Hannu said. ‘The Shuyet has ten thousand men – and some of them experienced fighters.’
‘Our soldiers have an advantage they do not.’
Hannu raised an eyebrow.
Piay smiled. ‘We have Taita. As formidable as the Shuyet is, I don’t believe there is anyone alive who can outmanoeuvre his great mind.’
‘Let us hope you are right.’ Hannu swallowed the last of his bread and fixed one glaring eye on Piay. ‘Because I’m just a grubby old soldier with a limp and a bad temper, but now, suddenly, I find myself a general, commanding an army in a war that we are not prepared to fight.’
• • •
T
he workshops of Memphis were alive with activity as the sun sank into the west, the smiths bending their backs to meet the nomarch’s orders. The furnaces glowed bright and the men sweated, naked in the heat and acrid smoke. Every scrap of bronze in the city had been collected by an army of apprentices, to be melted and reforged into fresh, gleaming blades and spear tips. The fletchers had been tasked with redoubling their efforts, producing quiver after quiver of newly finned shafts, while the slaves in the palace kitchens worked through the night, withdrawing shovel after shovel of ships’ biscuits from the ovens.
In the Hall of Audiences, Piay paced up and down. This was the most dangerous moment, he knew. They had split their men – the Blue Crocodiles and the veteran soldiers from the Memphis Guard had gone ahead, as an advance party, under the command of General Kamose. The raw recruits and the rest of the Memphis Guard awaited the return of Hannu’s hastily assembled navy. If the Shuyet had another force, close to Memphis, then he could take the city now – eight hundred men who had never held a sword in battle were all that stood between him and his prize. It was impossible, Piay told himself. The Shuyet could not have more men, could not have marched them south without their knowledge, but still the images of the city on fire, the temples ransacked and the vault stripped bare flickered in front of his eyes.
And what of Kamose? What if the scouts had been wrong? What if an advance force had already been sailing south with a fair wind behind them, not waiting for the Shuyet’s army? Then the Blue Crocodiles and the guardsmen they had taken with them would be engulfed, overrun. Would the fleet be returned to Memphis as the Breath of Horus had been – the sailors slaughtered and tossed in the holds?
‘Any news of Kamose?’ Hannu’s voice rang out across the hall.
‘Nothing. The scouts have not returned.’
‘I’ve heard that when Pharaoh sent the great general Tanus north to meet the Hyksos invaders, he had four hundred vessels and sixty thousand men at his command.’
‘You may be a general now, but you are not Tanus,’ Piay said, looking askance at his friend.
‘I’m just saying that a few more boats with a few more men might make a difference.’
Piay thought of his adventures with Hannu: of their journey south, beyond the land of Myssa’s birth; of Sakir the Red Hawk and Hanbaal the slaver; of Jabilo and the Abantu. He thought of Akkan the Child Killer, and the Cobra. Then he looked at Hannu. They should not be here, waiting for news in a dusty room in a palace – they should be out in the delta, hunting for the Shuyet, running behind his lines, looking for the man who claimed to be the vessel of Anubis.
‘At this moment,’ Piay said, ‘I wish it were just the two of us, old friend. There was a time when I would have believed that you and I, alone, could turn the Shuyet’s men back to Avaris.’
‘Aye,’ Hannu replied with a laugh. ‘Once, perhaps, you would have tried, and I would have had no choice but to follow . . . I thank the gods that those days are behind us.’
• • •
P
iay passed between the pylons of the inner court of the temple and down the long colonnaded atrium. In front of him, lit by guttering torches, stood the giant acacia-wood doors, on which were carved an image of Ptah, Sekhmet and Nefertem traversing the sky on a solar barque. Slipping through the concealed door beneath the image of Ptah, Piay entered the gloom of the chapel beyond. It was here that the grand master of the Guild of Embalmers would have performed his work in the days before the Hyksos had conquered the city. Now, the massive table, on which for centuries the nobles and priests of Memphis would have lain for mummification, was broken in two – scarred by fire and chisel and pick.
Piay ran his hand over the edge of the table as he walked to the back of the chapel. It had been sculpted from a single block of diorite, three paces long and two wide. Into the dark, mottled surface of the stone had been chiselled the grooves which would drain the blood and bodily fluids released by the scalpels and other instruments of the embalmers.
It had been an exceptional piece of craftsmanship, but now it was just one more broken object.
‘So, you are finally here?’ The tall man was dressed in crimson, the cloth wrapped around him shot through with threads of gold. His arms hung loosely at his sides, the metal of the bracelets that clustered around his fine-boned wrists winking in the light that came from a small fire on the floor in front of him.
‘Where is she?’
‘She is not here, Piay of Thebes.’ The man sank into an easy squat and looked up at Piay, the scarification marks across his face jumping into ragged peaks and then falling away again as the fire flared and spat. ‘It has been many days.’
‘What have you done?’
‘Everything necessary. I have done what she would have wanted. I have done what you asked of me.’
Piay’s hand had been on the haft of his dagger even before he entered the room, but now the blade was in his hand. In two paces, he had pulled the man to his feet and pushed him up against the wall, the razor-sharp edge against his throat.
‘Where is she, Shabaka?’
‘I have taken her home.’
‘That was not for you to do.’
‘It is the way of our people. The body must be returned to the land from whence it came. You are Egyptian – you would not understand.’
But suddenly the man beneath the blade was no longer Shabaka, the embalmer, the soothsayer and witchdoctor. It was Asil, his father.
‘What do you want, boy?’
‘Where is she? Where is Myssa?’
‘You questioned the reach of my arm. You think that I cannot steal from you the only thing that you truly value, when you bury us both within spitting distance of each other?’
Turning, Piay saw a shadow fall across the bars that filled the small window in the door to Asil’s cell. The sound of a beast huffing in the dark filled the corridor outside.
‘The Shuyet comes!’ Asil said, his face paralysed with fear. ‘Anubis is here.’
‘I thought you feared no man.’
‘Show me a man who does not fear death, and I will show you a liar.’
A whining sound filled the cell, followed by the scratching of powerful claws upon the cell door. It was as if the animal outside meant to dig his way into the chamber.
• • •
T
he galleys strained at their creaking moorings – they had returned early that morning, riding a strong wind from the Great Green. On their decks, Piay could see the sailors preparing for departure as the last of the supplies were loaded into the holds. It would be a slower journey north, but the current would help the oarsmen.
The dream of the night before still clouded Piay’s mind, filling his head with unwanted images: his father’s face twisted in horror; the whites of Shabaka’s eyes in the dark of the embalming chamber. But General Kamose and his men had not been overrun; the plan still held, and in a few hours the army would be united again, ready for the task that lay before it. Piay had no time to dwell on messages that came to him in dreams. His beloved was safe in her tomb, Asil was still in his cell beneath the barracks, and Shabaka had gone south, back to the land of his forefathers, as soon as he had said the last of his incantations over Myssa’s body.
Hannu surveyed the ships that rode at anchor as the crowd started to gather on the dockside to see off the last of the nomarch’s army.
‘This wind cannot hold,’ the old soldier said. ‘The gods have been with us so far. It will turn.’
Piay’s thoughts drifted to another journey: of their departure from Sena and their passage across the Great Green to Lacedaemon. A journey that had started with escape, but ended in shipwreck and disaster. An auspicious start did not guarantee a successful conclusion. ‘I hope you are right, old friend,’ he said. ‘We cannot delay any longer.’
• • •
T
he gangplanks were pulled up and the ropes flew clear, coiling on the flagstones of the wharf. Oars slid through the slots in the rails, and the men heaved, pulling their vessels out into the current. The drums began to boom, pounding time for the oarsmen, a steady heartbeat that rolled out from each great ship as the flotilla began to move north to meet its fate. Along the wharf, the milling crowd cheered.
On the poop-deck, Taita filled his lungs with a deep draught of air, letting the tension ease from his muscles. To his surprise, instead of the dank scent of the water, he caught the invigorating fragrance of flowering jasmine, brought to him from some distant garden. A good omen.
‘It seems strange not to have Pharaoh here,’ Taita said as Piay returned from a tour of the ship, turning to look south, over the stern of the Breath of Horus. In his mind’s eye, he moved down the river and over the fields, through the gates of Thebes and into Pharaoh’s palace, where he had spent so much of his long life.
‘You led an army to free Thebes from the barbarians and sent them fleeing into the sea,’ Piay said. ‘Some say that you are the greatest general Egypt has known.’
‘Then let us pray to great Ra that what knowledge I have gathered in my long life will serve us well in our contest with the Shuyet, that Egypt may come away victorious.’
As they moved north, Taita saw that the usual river traffic was absent – the skiffs and lighters that filled the great waterway were nowhere to be seen. News of the approach of the Shuyet’s navy and the looming battle had spread quickly.
Peering northwards, towards the smoky horizon, Taita imagined the great veil of distance that lay between him and Avaris dropping away, so that he could see the full strength of his adversary. How many ships did the Shuyet have? How close were they?
To starboard, beyond the river’s shoreline, the desert stretched as far as the eye could see, to the heat haze that trembled on the horizon over the burning red sand, inhospitable and cruel. And yet, Taita mused, it was also their protector, for any army would be immediately visible, the ruddy dust from their marching giving them away long before they arrived at the river. For that reason, he was certain that the Shuyet would not approach from that side.
The port side was where the danger lay. Taita looked past the date palms that rose from the riverbank, silhouetted against the silver sky. An enemy force could approach the Memphis ships unseen – creeping through the green waves of barley swaying in the fields, or along the irrigation ditches.
Turning back, Taita called to Bek. ‘Captain, position three lookouts along the port side,’ he commanded.
Then Taita called for Asim, Gyasi and Sadiki, gesturing for them to join him.
The blond one rested his forearms on the rail and looked out at the river ahead to mask his trepidation. The water gleamed like a polished bronze mirror, and the reflection of Ra’s great orb shimmered from the surface.
