“Lord of the Two Lands--” After the ceremonious call of the chamberlain, Kamose’s voice was the crack of a bow cord upon discharge of an arrow. He sat like a statue of his own divine royalty, but that flame that burned within his frail body licked out feverishly at the men before him.
“We have gathered to mourn him who has departed, aye, even Sekenenre, Son of Re, Lord of the White and the Red, Amon-on-Earth! Yet that is but a part of a greater whole--”
There was a faint stir in the lines of those men and women drawn up strictly according to their rank, standing each on the spot prescribed to his birth or office centuries before. No one spoke before the face of the Pharaoh without orders. But neither had the Son of Re ever addressed a court in the words Kamose now used. And that departure from rite and custom sent a decorous ripple across the hall, as a wind ripples a growing field of young grain.
“To what purpose is the power of Re--of Egypt--when our enemy sits safe in Avaris, a city built of stone torn from our hills, the blocks laid by slaves of our blood. One chieftain claims the two crowns in Avaris, while in Nubia another raises his hand to snatch the Crook and the Flail! We have lain in the years of darkness as did our fathers before us. Did not the divine Amenemhet generations ago set up his standard here in Thebes, tearing down the evil rule that was before him? And not easy then was the winning of his battle against Set.
“So I say to you now, the spider in the north grows fat upon its sucking of the Black Land. The shrines of our Great Ones have been thrown to earth or given over to the worship of their vile god. Upon our necks rests the yoke of oxen, for to the barbarians we are less than the beasts who break the fields for planting.
“The Son of Re cannot call upon the gods in sacred Memphis. Nor can he send grain from the fields, cloth from the warehouses to his people in their need. We are worn thin and old with servitude to a barbarian who knows not the Great Ones. And I say to you that the time has come to grapple with the aliens, to deliver Egypt from their defilement, bringing once more the ancient light to this land!”
The force of his words drew an odd hollow echo from the roof above them. His made a little sign to the chamberlain who produced a role of papyrus and stood ready to read.
“Listen now to the words of those who say they speak for you!”
There was a curtness in that, and once again a ripple of surprise passed over the court. Rahotep did not doubt that more than one courtier in that company already knew the text that the chamberlain was reading, perhaps had a voice in its writing. And what did such a man think now at hearing his own argument put so baldly?
“True it is that the aliens have advanced far into our land, and they have mocked us bitterly and laid upon us burdens of tribute and the force of their stern rule. But we of Thebes are secure in our possession of our lands here and to the southward, even right to the border of the Land of the Bow. Elephantine is a strong fortress to hold against Nubia, and its lord is with us, as are other lords. Do not the men of the south till for us the finest of their lands, and our cattle graze fat in the marshes? What is the north to us? Let the Asiatics hold the swamps of the north; ours is the heart of the Two Lands. If they bring out their strong men and war upon us, then shall we raise spear and bow in our defense. Then only will it be time for Pharaoh to lead us into battle.”
“ ‘We of Thebes are secure in our possession of our lands.’ “ Kamose repeated the words with searing bitterness. “Foolish men! While one of the Hyksos remains on the Black Earth, no man is secure! Even at this hour a general appointed by Avaris approaches Thebes, and he does not come alone--an army marches with him! I am the Shepherd of Egypt under Re. Remember”--Kamose stood up--”though I hold a Crook for the safekeeping of my people, also do I hold a Flail for the lashing of their enemies! Thus do I answer those who are ‘secure in Thebes’!”
He raised the ceremonial Flail and brought its thongs singing down to rip the papyrus roll from the chamberlain’s hands, sending it torn to the floor.
“Re has spoken!”
“Re has spoken!” the chamberlain echoed, his voice a startled whinny as he stared at the roll on the floor.
“Re has spoken!” A few of those assenting voices were firm, emphatic, but others trailed off as the Pharaoh turned and left the hall. There was a sigh of relaxation as the curtain fell across the doorway, the faintest trickle of whispering. Now the uncertainty of the city was gone. Thebes might not be happy, but her lord had made his decision. Sekenenre the warrior was dead, but Kamose the warrior was living.
And Kamose, the warrior, having made his decision, firmly and publicly, moved fast from that moment. Within the hour royal messengers flashed off in chariots, in fast-oared ships. The camp in the highlands was alerted; the naval vessels on the river gathered through the rising swell of the flood waters; the Hundreds of the neighboring nomes were summoned to join the standard of Pharaoh. Kamose broke with custom and decree. He might mourn his father in his heart, but he lingered to make no lengthy sacrifices at his tomb. Egypt, at last, was on the march!
The raid Ahmose had led upon the horse camp of the Hyksos had not prepared Rahotep for his second encounter with enemy forces. With one of the wild Bwedani from the desert as a guide, a small party of archers and Egyptian scouts struck deep into the territory surrounding Neferusi. The captain was familiar from childhood with the vast works of Semna, which had been almost a century in building. But now he viewed from a distance a city as well if not better defended by walls and buttresses.
“For a generation this has been the foremost Hyksos hold in the south.” Nereb, lying belly-flat against the ground, shaded his eyes against the sun with his hands. “It is said to be a small copy of Avaris itself. To take it by open assault--”
His words dwindled. The other answer would be a siege. And that required time the Egyptians did not have. The scouting party had worked its way by night and day in a half circle about the city at a discreet distance. There was a single entrance, and the way from it led between walls in a sharp bend, so that those who came in or out needs must walk between two lines of fortifications to a second gate, under menacing bows and slings of the alert guards.
But Rahotep had seen something beside those walls and their sentries. There were men on the walls who were not armed, who labored under taskmasters’ whips, either making repairs or adding new heights to already towering barriers. Several such parties were employed, had been employed in such toil during the two days they had been spying upon Neferusi. And how better could a man examine the fortifications then by using his eyes as he worked on them?
“In Nubia we have a saying,” he said slowly. “ ‘One may crack an egg from the inside.’ “
Nereb, his eyes screwed against the sun, stared at him un-comprehendingly. Rahotep gestured to the distant walls and the men who worked there.
“What manner of men serve the Hyksos as slaves?”
“All manner of men. Their prisoner nets are cast far. They say that even the warriors of Minos are sometimes caught in them. But here they would be mostly men of Egypt.”
“Suppose then we presented them with another slave. Or do they keep so strict an accounting of their laborers that one more could not be added to a gang without their notice?”
As if in answer to that question, so apt an answer that Rahotep always believed it was sent by a Great One, Kheti slipped like a brown skinned shadow across the sands to stretch out beside them with a new report.
“Lords, a caravan--from the other side--approaching the city. Shall we capture them?” His eyes glistened with excitement.
“Not so!” Rahotep ordered. “Have I not said we must not be suspected here. Is it a company of warriors?”
Kheti spat. “Say rather a company of slaves, Lord. They march under the whip, and it is no officer’s flail!”
“I would see this.” Leaving Nereb in his chosen post, the captain followed Kheti out in a circle path, which brought them again to the north of the city. Though they had made some
of that trip at a run--when they could find sufficient cover--yet the caravan was so close to the city gates that Rahotep had little time for a detailed study. That it was formed of slaves marching under guard, their arms strained painfully behind their backs, their elbows linked with cords, nooses about their necks beading them together, was plain.
So--there were new slaves being brought into Neferusi. To work on the walls? A wild plan began to grow in the captain’s mind. It was one with many, many weak spots, one in which action, and undoubtedly the life of the man who carried it out, would depend largely upon luck. Yet--it might give them a spy within the city and save them the costly siege that could doom their whole campaign.
“Is this the first such train to enter?” he asked Kheti.
“The first since we have watched, Lord.”
“Knowing you, Kheti, I also know that you have marked out a place where such a train might be ambushed--”
“Aye.” The Nubian was grinning. “Do we take the next one, Lord? Perhaps these dogs will give tongue--telling us all they know.”
Another flicker of an idea, a small addition to his plan. “Not yet--but I would look upon one of these slave gangs closely.”
Two hours later he had begun to think that the slave gang they had seen pass into Neferusi was the last, or else an extraordinary event instead of a usual one. Only two slow processions of oxcarts, heavily laden and well guarded by Hyksos warriors, had passed the reed thickets where Rahotep and Kheti crouched in vast discomfort, plagued by insects, the smell of rotting things thick about them, the slime of green mud covering their bodies.
But at the end of the midday rest a second slave convoy came along the road where the yearly flood was already sending fingers of wet across the baked clay. And Rahotep, studying that miserable party driven by his hiding place, saw that they were, indeed, mostly his countrymen. Marked with whip weals and the sores and bruises of constant ill-usage, they shuffled by, their eyes on the ground, lacking even the spirit of village asses set treading out the harvests. These were husks of men, and seeing them, a small portion of hope that nourished an offshoot of his plan died. None of these would turn upon their masters, even if their bonds were cut and daggers and spears put in their hands. Their guards treated them with the contempt some men feel toward animals. Instead of marching strung along the line, as they did when closer to the city and so under the eyes of their officers, the Hyksos--or rather in this case, the Bwedani mercenaries--strolled together, talking loudly and sharing from hand to hand a wine skin with the obvious intent of finishing off its contents before they reached Neferusi. Now and then one of them trotted along the line, flicking his whip over some stooped pair of shoulders, but the slaves did not exist to the guards as individuals--which solved part of the captain’s problem.
When the caravan had passed, he withdrew to join Nereb.
“I would speak with the Royal Son--”
“You have a plan?” Nereb sounded almost accusing, as if he thought Rahotep should share his thoughts. But the captain was so intent upon the working out of his scheme that he paid little attention to his companion. He posted Kheti and Hori to watch the road, with orders to list the traffic there, with special attention to slave trains, and then he headed for the distant Egyptian campsite.
Accustomed to the smaller gatherings of border patrols, he looked upon that camp with amazement. It appeared to him that it had grown again a third in size since he had left it five days earlier. With its shield walls, its picket fines of burden animals, its horse and chariot fines, and its central gathering of tents, it now bore a close resemblance to a city of nomads.
But Rahotep’s preoccupation with his own schemes was broken as he saw the identity of the scribe who attended Ahmose at the headquarters’ tent. Surely Sebni had no place here! The fellow was of Zau’s discredited party. So he kept his mouth shut, determined that unless he could speak in private to the prince, he would not speak at all.
“Provisions and slaves going in,” Ahmose repeated a bit later. “They prepare then for a siege, as the added work upon the walls indicates also. But then we could not hope that they would do differently. They are a race that builds forts to hold--”
Rahotep noted that Nereb was watching him questioningly. He must wonder why the captain did not explain the reason for their sudden return to camp. But the prince clapped his hands and to the servant in the doorway he said, “Wine for the lords. They have had a hot journeying--”
When the servant returned, bearing a jar on his shoulder, he kept away from the corner of the tent nearest the entrance, and the prince chuckled.
“I have a new guard in training, kinsman,” he said to Rahotep. “Since you have had notable success in that field, perhaps you can advise me. Come and see this mighty warrior newly added to our forces!”
He led the captain to the corner where the young lion they had taken on the hunt, muzzled, was confined by a leash. It growled as they approached, but the prince went down on one knee and fondled the unwilling head, looking deep into the topaz eyes until the growling died away.
“He looks apt to answer to your guidance, Royal Son--”
“As you do to mine?” The question came in a half whisper under the cover of louder words. “Aye, yesterday he took meat from my hand. Soon he will do without the muzzle.” Then again in that low tone, “There is something you would tell me?”
“Aye!” Rahotep answered with the one word both question and observation.
“I would look upon your leopard, kinsman. Nay, Sebni,” the prince added as the scribe arose and would have come to join them. “This is no affair of state whereof notes must be made for Pharaoh, but a matter of the taming of beasts. I need no attendance.”
Once outside the tent, he spoke more quickly. “You are not lacking in wits, kinsman, to keep a hold on your tongue--”
“Lord, what does that one here?” Rahotep led the way back to his own tent, which Bis shared.
“It is better to have an untrustworthy overseer tallying in the storehouse where the master watches, than in a distant grainfield,” Ahmose answered obliquely. “Also something can be learned from watching a spy who believes himself safe. But what have you to tell me?”
“I believe, Royal Son, I have found a way that one may enter into Neferusi and there learn something of the city and its defenses.”
“Docs this scout grow the wings of Horus or is he to be as invisible as a night demon?”
“He joins one of the slave trains now being brought into the city, and he labors on the walls--”
The prince stopped and faced the other squarely. “Always providing that he is not promptly speared by a guard who counts one too many on his man-tally--or is not uncovered within Neferusi to be fed to their god bit by bit.”
“But what, Royal Son, if he is already provided with a disguise such as will easily mark him as one of their captives?”
“That being, kinsman?”
Rahotep pivoted, showing the newly healed scars on his back.
“Being this, prince. I am amply fitted to play the part of a slave who has tasted the lash.”
When the prince made no comment, Rahotep turned again, ready to argue his point. But the look in the other’s eyes kept him silent for a moment.
“It was not in my power to spare you that, kinsman!”
“Do you think that I ever believed different, Royal Son? There was at that time a net about me that no man except those who wove it could loosen. But now I rejoice that this was so. Does it not give me the right to try this entry of Neferusi?”
“You throw sticks that are weighted against you. There is one chance in a thousand of your safe return.”
“Not so, Royal Son. Believe me when I say that I shall lay my plans well and there shall be those outside Neferusi who shall stand by to bring me forth again.”
“That there shall be!” promised the prince fervently.
Rahotep shook his head. “No men of these forces, prince. Let me depend upon
my archers. This is a venture after their own hearts, and we have played like games before.”
“Now you cannot tell me the truth! No man has entered into a city of the Hyksos in such a guise. I cannot allow you--”
“Royal Son, just now you said you regret what I received by mistake under Pharaoh’s justice--can you not see that there was some design of a Great One in all this? Only a man so scarred would dare to try my plan. When you go into battle, you use the best weapon lying to your hand.”
Ahmose sighed. “I see you will have it so, even if I set a contrary order upon you. But this is my will and yours also--you will lay your plan well and you will stay no more than a day and a night within that nest of stinging bees! If we win Neferusi through your efforts, claim what gold of valor you wish, even unto your father’s office in Nubia, and Pharaoh shall confirm you in it!”
Chapter 14: ICAR, THE SEAFARER
“Pull that cord tighter, fool!” Rahotep ordered between set teeth and then was ashamed that he had allowed his tension to show so plainly, even to Kheti with whom he had shared almost every test and danger of his life since early childhood. Was it his warrior’s pride now that kept him from calling off this wild venture? He did not know. Instead he shied away from investigating his uneasiness too closely.
The ceremony with which the Pharaoh had welcomed him back into the ranks of his “shields” might wipe out the shame of his conviction for treason, but some inward part of Rahotep still ached dully, as did his shoulders when he put too great a strain upon his scarred back--as they ached now, with Kheti efficiently tying his elbows together in the torturing bonds of a slave.
Mahu threaded through the dried reeds, which gave forth only the faintest of rustles to belie his skill as a scout.
“They come, Lord. And Dedun smiles on us! One of the guards must have been hurt--they carry him on a litter and his fellows walk beside him. They seldom look upon the slaves.”
The soft brush of fur against his leg brought Rahotep’s attention to Bis. Now the cub’s eyes met his, and to the captain it was as if he could read true understanding in them. They had trained vigorously during the past three days, using long hours, he and Bis. And now much of the success of his plan would depend upon how the cub would respond. Rahotep must enter Neferusi in the role of slave in the late afternoon. Bis would enter the city at nightfall on the next day. And with Bis’s aid both of them might come safely out. But that word was only a shaky “might,” with no certainty behind it.