House of Two Pharaohs, page 23
‘But you saw,’ Piay said with a smile.
Hannu nodded. ‘He was stuck fast. Couldn’t balance himself. Couldn’t strike to save his life. Which is the point of the story.’ He jabbed a finger at a random member of the crowd he had drawn. ‘Even in the water, even with my leg, I could move faster. When his sword came down, I was already a step away. A couple of thrusts and I’d gutted him. His stupid expression was a sight. He couldn’t believe what had happened.’
‘And the nomarch?’ one of the recruits asked. ‘Where was he?’
Hannu fixed the man with a vicious stare. ‘The nomarch . . . He was already in the river. Left me on the bank with the four of them, he did.’
‘I heard it was ten men,’ Piay said. ‘And one of them was on a horse.’
Hannu scratched his head thoughtfully. ‘I don’t remember a man on a horse. Disgusting creatures.’
‘And the river crocodiles,’ another recruit asked, winking at Piay.
‘Aye, the crocodiles,’ Hannu said, taking a deep pull from his beer cup. ‘Now, let me tell you about crocodiles . . .’
‘I think it’s time to go, old friend,’ Piay said, pushing forward and setting his hand on Hannu’s shoulder. ‘There is much to do.’
• • •
T
he Breath of Horus swept on, the seasoned sailor at the steering pole making minute adjustments to his course. Despite the light of Khonsu’s orb glinting off the water, the way ahead was hazardous, the currents difficult to navigate. From where he was standing on the prow, Piay glanced back, past the stern, and into the night. Four more galleys ploughed through the water behind his flagship, following the same line.
The men heaved at their oars, their chanting, that kept the beat of the strokes, so low that it was barely audible. For Taita’s plan to work, the Breath of Horus had to be as close as possible to the enemy before it was seen. Turning his attention to the bank, Piay scanned the date palms and the fields beyond, but there was no sign of troops or scouts.
They had to be near now, Piay decided, as the steersman eased the galley around a long, gentle curve in the river. Crossing the length of the deck, he climbed the ladder to the poop-deck and looked to the north. There, in the distance, an orange glow hung over what must be the Shuyet’s camp.
Piay signalled to the steersman to bring the vessel in close to the bank while the men below shipped their oars. Squatting, he listened as the galleys behind them were driven through the reeds and up onto the shore, so that the men inside could disembark. Eventually, Hannu’s hooting call came to him, the signal that his Blue Crocodiles and what remained of the Memphis Guard were ready. When it came, Piay felt the familiar rush of excitement that always filled him before any battle. This is what he lived for, not listening to endless debates amongst the greybeards in the halls of the nomarch’s palace.
Taking a deep breath, Piay imagined what lay in front of them. The sailors would be asleep on their benches, as would the troops in their tents around the campfires that still lit up the sky. There would be lookouts, of course, but Piay suspected that the Shuyet’s lieutenants would have rewarded his men after the success of the day. Many of them would be drunk. There was little discipline in the Shuyet’s army – they had seen it on the battlefield. And that would be their undoing.
‘It’s time,’ he said to the steersman. ‘Take her back out into the current.’
Dropping back down to the main deck, Piay moved amongst the benches. ‘Row as fast as you can now,’ he murmured, ‘then when you hear the call from their lookouts, abandon ship.’
As the oarsmen grunted their assent, Piay hurried on and lowered himself into the suffocating heat of the dark hold. Around him, he heard the rats scurrying. He could smell the sharp, bitter tang of their urine, and behind it the unmistakable odour of pitch.
It was time to strike. Taita’s plan would take the enemy by surprise – of that there was no doubt – but it would also either save Memphis or leave it entirely undefended. But this is what the Shuyet had forced Taita to do – to risk everything on one last counteraction.
When the cry of a lookout finally echoed across the water, much later than Piay had expected, a commotion erupted on deck as the sailors dropped their oars and threw themselves over the side, thundering into the water that crashed against the hull.
The Breath of Horus sped on.
Leaning forward, Piay felt around until his fingers closed on the pile of sailcloth pillaged from the other vessels in the fleet. He struck his flint, once, twice, three times. A spark ignited the oil that had been poured over the sails, and an instant later they began to crackle with flame.
Piay didn’t wait to see what happened next. Scrambling back, he hauled himself out into the cool of the night, the air instantly chilling the sweat on his burning brow. Behind him, the hold was flooded with brilliant waves of amber light and the roaring of the fire.
What would Lostris have said about Taita’s choice? Piay wondered as he stared into the flames. His beautiful ship, constructed in the memory of his forever-love, would soon be consumed and sink beneath the surface. But it might just save the dream of Egypt.
More of the Shuyet’s lookouts were now calling into the night, their warnings spreading, but even if they saw the glow arising from the hold, they could surely not anticipate the devastation that was about to be inflicted upon them.
Piay allowed himself a single tight smile as he climbed once more onto the poop-deck and saw the glowing firepots hanging aft on every one of the Shuyet’s ships. Straining at anchor, the vessels were packed so closely together that it would have been possible to walk halfway across the great river.
No one on those ships would expect the great flagship of the Lord High Chancellor to be sacrificed in such a manner. Piay had been astonished by both the nature of the scheme and Taita’s resolve, even after he had told him how the great General Tanus had chosen to use fire to disrupt the Hyksos fleet in the furious fighting that had followed the invasion.
When he was sure that the current would deliver the Breath of Horus to its final destination, Piay lashed the steering pole tight to the rail. Then, without breaking step, he launched himself towards the side of the ship, leaping up, with one foot upon the rail, and then propelling himself into the void. Plunging into the bone-chilling water, he immediately swam to the surface. He did not want to miss what was coming next.
Taking a breath, Piay watched the Breath of Horus surge towards the line of vessels like the glowing core of a furnace. Flames roared across the deck, curling around the mast and swooping upwards.
Terrified shouts rippled out over the water as the Shuyet’s sailors lurched to their feet and saw their doom racing towards them.
The Breath of Horus was not a large vessel, but it had been designed and built for a king – it was swift in the current, unstoppable. It smashed into the line of ships with a sound so loud it was as if the very heavens had broken open. The force of the impact sent the anchored galleys crashing into one another, splintering hulls and scattering the crews. But that was only the start. The voracious flames, that had burned so bright in the ship’s hull, leapt from the Breath of Horus onto one of the smaller vessels into which it had ploughed, and from there they jumped quickly to another, then another.
As Piay swam to the bank, he glanced back, watching the night become day as a firestorm engulfed the Shuyet’s navy, illuminating the sprawling camp that lay beyond it. Piay could imagine the terror twisting the faces of the bleary-eyed warriors as they dragged themselves from deep, drunken sleep, trying to comprehend the horrors around them. The soldiers running to the riverbank to watch in consternation as their navy burned, while Hannu and his men marched on their rear.
The gods have smiled on us tonight, Piay thought.
• • •
L
imping along at the head of his men, Hannu heard the Breath of Horus strike its target. Behind him, five hundred men turned as one as the fire roared into the night sky.
Pulling out his sword, Hannu grasped the hilt tightly. This was the moment that they would avenge General Kamose, and all the men who had fallen to the Shuyet’s horde. Hannu grinned as he considered the irony – his men would now be the instruments by which Anubis’ army would be reunited with their commander-in-chief.
As the men behind him saw the Shuyet’s camp appear through the trees, Hannu heard a murmur spread through the ranks, and they surged forward.
Mesmerised by the blaze on the river, the Shuyet’s men failed to turn to meet the onrushing Blue Crocodiles until it was too late. Hannu hacked and slashed his way through the mass of men, many like those he had seen sailing down the river, and in Avaris. But the looks he saw on their faces in this moment were very different from what he had seen then. Before, he had seen hardness and determination. Now, all he saw was terror.
The Shuyet’s army fled before Hannu’s Blue Crocodiles, racing away along the riverbank and into the night.
Hannu couldn’t stop smiling as he watched them run.
It had been a long time since he had felt so free. Not since the Hyksos had murdered his wife, not since a barbarian axe had given him the limp that he carried with him every day, not since he was a much younger man had he felt the joy of the hunt so keenly.
• • •
I
t was small wonder that their army had been overwhelmed on the battlefield, Piay thought as he scanned the Shuyet’s camp. It was bigger than any town in the delta, almost as big as Memphis itself – a sprawling mess of patched tents and donkey kraals and half-dug pit latrines.
From his vantage point on a low scrubby hill above the camp, Piay watched Hannu’s men surging between the tents, cutting down any and all who stood in their way. In minutes, they would fall on the rear of the Shuyet’s army, where the men milled impotently at the river’s edge.
Piay and Taita had discussed their next move at length. Now they were certain that Gyasi was the only contestant who could be the Shuyet’s spy, Piay wanted to force her to lead them to her master’s lair, but Taita had been more cautious.
‘If she is as we suspect, then she will make her move soon enough.’
‘And if not?’ Piay had asked.
‘Then we have lost nothing. But if we expose her, then who knows what she will tell us and where she will take us? Even if we torture her, she can tell us what she likes. And I do not believe the Shuyet would not have considered that I could discover his spy. He will have had traps constructed in the delta, to keep his army from being stumbled upon.’
‘So, we do nothing,’ Piay grumbled.
‘No – we behave as if we do not have the knowledge we think we have. We must rescue Gyasi. The contest has not ended. She is not a spy. But when she makes her move, we will be ready.’
In the centre of the tented city was a structure that was substantially larger than those around it. In appearance it resembled the command tent of General Kamose, but it was far bigger, covering enough ground, Piay guessed, to accommodate forty or fifty men.
The rest of the camp had emptied out as the Shuyet’s men ran down to the shoreline, but twenty or so guards remained at their posts around this large tent. If Gyasi was still in the camp, this is where she would be – Piay was certain of it.
Piay watched as Hannu’s men made their way towards the tent. A force of five hundred bearing down on twenty men. From this distance – and over the sound of the fires on the river – he couldn’t hear the shouts of alarm, the battle cries of the Blue Crocodiles, the Shuyet’s men calling to each other to stand firm. He could only see the flashing of bronze blades in the light from the burning ships, see the men falling and crawling and dying.
It was over before it had even truly begun.
And as Hannu’s men moved on, Piay drew his sword and started to run.
• • •
T
he space around the tent was deserted. The guards that Piay had seen from the top of the hill lay where they had fallen. The Blue Crocodiles had taken their revenge – not a man remained alive.
Pushing back the tent flap, Piay peered inside. Hannu’s men hadn’t bothered to search the structure. They were moving fast, cutting down all those who stood before them, their eyes on the mass of men at the river. They could already taste the victory.
Gyasi was tied to one of the great posts that held up the roof of the tent, looking for all the world like a younger version of Taita – dressed in his flowing white robe and wearing his green malachite makeup, the resemblance was uncanny. She was beautiful without her hair, Piay thought; somehow more delicate, vulnerable.
A dejected group of soldiers and sailors surrounded her. Piay estimated there were at least fourscore, all bound at the wrists and clumped in small groups, sitting on the ground, awaiting whatever punishment the enemy had in store for them. Some were wounded, but their faces brightened as soon as they saw the nomarch.
Pulling a dagger from the waistband of his kilt, Piay moved to free the first man, a youth with a shock of red hair. ‘Cut them loose,’ he told him, handing him the blade, while he went himself to liberate Gyasi.
‘Thank you, my lord,’ Gyasi said as soon as she was free, bowing before the nomarch.
‘Come, let’s get you to safety. We have a long way to go.’
• • •
A
pall of acrid smoke drifted over the abandoned camp, the rising sun turning it an unwholesome pink. Beneath it bodies were littered between crushed tents and dead campfires, the vultures and jackals already beginning their grim work. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood and the reek of burning.
From where he had chosen to stand, on the higher ground, Taita turned away from what remained of the Shuyet’s camp and looked out over the grey river that was starting to catch the first light of the new day. The blackened ribs of at least ten galleys pushed up from the water, a few remaining flames still licking across the charred wood.
Around them, bodies turned slowly in the swirling currents, pale and bloated. Some of the men had died in the firestorm caused by the Breath of Horus; others had been picked off by the archers under Hannu’s command as they tried to swim to safety.
Of the Breath of Horus there was no sign. Whatever remained of the ship that he had so lovingly conjured back to life was now scattered across the riverbed.
The previous night’s battle had been short and bloody. Hannu and the Blue Crocodiles had fallen on the Shuyet’s army as they watched their navy burn. The mighty firestorm and the shadows it had cast had so affected their minds that five hundred men materialising from the darkness had appeared to them like ten times that number. Few had stood firm. In a matter of moments, they had been routed, cries of terror and despair rising as the men fled, pursued by the Blue Crocodiles. The Blues had chased them north for miles, only pulling back at daybreak.
Through the thick smoke, two mismatched figures made their way towards Taita. Piay’s kilt was nearly black with soot and filth, but he had a lightness to his step that Taita was pleased to see. The other man looked like a terrifying vision from the depths of the Duat. Hannu’s white eyes stared out of a crimson visage. He was slaked from head to toe in the drying blood of his enemies, his dripping sword slapping against his good leg as he limped.
‘One day, there will be tales told of this great victory, and of those who led the brave men of Memphis,’ Taita said, when the pair reached him. ‘But whatever you might think, this is not the end.’
Piay looked back across the camp, frowning. ‘It is true that we did not destroy the Shuyet’s army, but they are broken now. They will not take the field against us any time soon.’
Hannu wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and flicked the blood away. ‘And I would wager that there will be far fewer new recruits waiting outside the Temple of Baal once word of this slaughter travels across the Lower Kingdom.’
Squatting, Taita looked towards the rising sun. ‘All of this is true, but we would be foolish to take too much comfort from it. If there is one thing that we can be certain of, it is that the Shuyet is already plotting his next move – if he has not already set it in motion.’
‘What man who has not been chosen by the gods could imagine himself Pharaoh?’ Hannu grumbled. ‘He just wants an army of slaves to do his bidding.’
‘I am starting to feel as if I know him as a brother,’ Taita replied. ‘And I do not believe he is interested in either wealth or power. He wants a divided Egypt, one in which the Lower Kingdom that began with the Red Pretender is restored to its former glory. He wants the very opposite of what we are fighting for, but he believes in his cause wholeheartedly.’
‘What do you suggest, then, my master?’ Piay asked.
Taita closed his eyes. ‘We must keep our scouts roaming the land. And when we find where he has made his camp, we must be prepared to strike swiftly, and as savagely as we did last night. The Shuyet must be punished for all he has wrought, if the principle of Ma’at is to be established in this new Egypt.’
‘Aye, well, I am all for punishment,’ Hannu said. ‘But it can wait until after I have washed this victory down with a jug of beer.’
With a respectful nod to Taita, Hannu trudged down the slope towards a small group of Blue Crocodiles resting on the riverbank. Stripped naked, they had washed the blood from their bodies and were now drying in the morning sun, laughing and smiling with the euphoria of men who had stood at the entrance to the Duat, looked into it, and yet survived.
Piay slumped to the ground, exhausted. ‘At least, for a while, we can rest.’ Piay exhaled as he closed his eyes.
In that moment, Taita saw in him the frightened, lonely boy who had been delivered into his care so many years before.
