The Horus Road (4 page)

“Gods, Ahmose, I pray that you have not made an enemy of our most precious ally. Do you no longer trust him?”

“I love him, Mother,” Ahmose replied wearily. Dark smudges had appeared under his kohled eyes and his pallor betrayed more healing to be done in spite of his insistence that he had fully recovered from his wound. “I love him but I do not trust him. I have often sensed the kind of pride in him that must be bridled. He muzzles it, but without a firm hand on him it will bolt and destroy him.” Aahotep came around the table and, kissing him on the cheek, she drew her linen cloak around her and crossed to the door.

“I am astounded at the foresight and cunning you have shown this evening,” she said. “I should not be, for I birthed and raised you, but I am. Egypt will be safe with you. Sleep well, Majesty.” This time the door closed with a demure click. Ahmose’s shoulders slumped.

“I am suddenly very tired,” he murmured. “My head is pounding. I think I will drink poppy tonight, but I want you to sleep with me, Aahmes-nefertari. I need the feel of your body against mine. I would make love to you but I do not have the energy.” Going to him, Aahmes-nefertari put an arm around his waist.

“We can always lie side by side and pretend,” she teased him. Then more soberly she asked, “Ahmose, why did you exclude Ramose from this discussion?”

“Oddly enough Ramose is one man I do trust completely,” he replied. “But he is not a soldier. Besides, he is mourning for his mother and I do not wish to interfere with his grief.” But you interfere with ours for Kamose, she wanted to retort. Instead she said, “Will you send him to spy in Het-Uart instead? And what of Mesehti and Makhu? And Ankhmahor for that matter!” Holding each other, they moved towards the passage.

“I do not need a spy in Het-Uart after all,” he told her as they left the office. A cool draught blew through the passage beyond, making the torches gutter, and the guard on the door straightened into a respectful salute. “Hor-Aha is correct in his surmise that the city will not fall to me this season. It is well defended. I will concentrate on killing the fresh Setiu entering the Delta. As for my two Princes, I will offer them new titles and keep them beside me, but I have already taken their divisions away from them, although they do not know it yet. And Ankhmahor …” They were passing the open doorway to the rear garden and he slowed to inhale the gusts of scent-laden air before walking on. “Ankhmahor is a jewel. He will continue to order my Followers and act as Commander of the Shock Troops of the Division of Amun. He is one Prince for whom I make an exception. Would you like to captain the household guards, Aahmes-nefertari?” He was smiling down at her, his eyes sparkling in spite of their shadows.

“Yes, I would,” she responded immediately. “I have come to know our local soldiers well. If I can select them myself, I will feel quite safe. Some of them will be Medjay, Ahmose.” Akhtoy was rising from his stool as they approached Ahmose’s quarters.

“That is fine,” Ahmose said. “You, my dearest sister, I do trust implicitly! Akhtoy, bring in hot water and send to the physician for poppy. Aahmes-nefertari, return as soon as you can.”

She left him then and walked the short distance to her own quarters. Tetisheri will be furious when she learns how she was excluded tonight, she thought as Raa came forward to undress her. He ought to do his best to placate her. A new title perhaps? She laughed aloud as she raised her arms and the sheath was lifted up over her head.

That night she dreamed of the death of Ramose’s mother, Nefer-Sakharu, and woke sweating and trembling in the thick darkness. Sitting up, she wiped her neck and breasts with the crumpled sheet, thankful that she was not alone. Turning to drink from the water jug by the couch, she was startled to hear Ahmose’s voice. “What is the matter?” he mumbled. “Are you all right?”

“A bad dream, nothing more,” she whispered back, feeling for the reassurance of his warm flesh and finding the curve of his hip. “Why are you not sleeping, Ahmose?”

“I did sleep,” he replied more clearly. “Until your muttering and tossing woke me up.”

“I am sorry.” She lay back down on her pillow. “Can you sleep again, do you think?” He stirred and rolled towards her.

“I could,” he said. “But my headache has gone. Let us make love now, Aahmes-nefertari. Do you want to? It will be a unique experience. I have never made love to a soldier before.” Go away, she said silently to the image of the Medjay with Nefer-Sakharu’s blood spurting over him, and she opened her mouth to her husband’s kiss.

The expected outburst from Tetisheri did not come, much to Aahmes-nefertari’s surprise. She wondered whether perhaps her grandmother was not aware that the meeting had taken place, but doubted it. Tetisheri had always kept a sharp ear for the casual conversation of the servants. It was more likely that she sensed a shift in the hierarchy of the family and, not wishing to find herself on the bottom rung of the ladder, she had decided to keep her wounded pride to herself. She showed her displeasure, however, by questioning Ahmose sharply regarding the state of Kamose’s tomb at dinner one evening. “You have been absent from the house on many occasions,” she said to him abruptly as he was feeding morsels of roast duck to Behek. The dog had spent the days since Kamose’s murder wandering disconsolately from his master’s empty rooms to the watersteps and back as though he hoped Kamose might return at any moment from some river voyage, until Ahmose had the animal leashed and led behind himself as he went about his business. Ahmose affected to ignore Tetisheri, continuing to tear pieces of meat from the bones on his plate and slip them between Behek’s strong teeth, but she persisted. “Have you been overseeing the completion of Kamose’s tomb?”

“No, Grandmother,” he finally said patiently. “Actually I have had matters to attend to in the temple.”

“Matters that are more important than your brother’s resting place?” she pressed. “Do you want him to lie amid stone chips and unfinished inscriptions?” Ahmose straightened and dipped his fingers in the fingerbowl.

“You presume a great deal, Tetisheri,” he said with mild rebuke. “You would like to think that I am capable of such a petty revenge. You have always chosen to believe that I was jealous of Kamose, but it was never so. We disagreed on many things, but I loved him just as much as you did.”

“I doubt that,” she responded tartly. Aahmes-nefertari saw her husband’s jaw tighten at her tone, but he did not rise to her bait. Drying his hands, he indicated that his plate could be removed and sat back.

“I have been to the tomb twice,” he said evenly. “It will not be entirely ready but that is no one’s fault. Kamose did not expect to die so young. The inner chamber with all the correct inscriptions is complete because I commanded the artisans to work at night as well as during the day, but the carving along the passage to it cannot be done before the funeral. The pyramid stands finished but unfaced. That can be completed later. The enclosing wall of the courtyard is also finished. The men are exhausting themselves, but there is a limit to what I can ask of them, Tetisheri.”

“So the prayers and incantations that will surround his body are correct but his mighty deeds will not be recorded,” she grumbled. “It is disastrous.”

“The prayers and divine protections were far more important,” Ahmose retorted. His forefinger was straying to his scar, betraying his tension, and Aahotep spoke up before Aahmes-nefertari could pour a little oil on the exchange.

“You are being deliberately disagreeable, Tetisheri,” she said. “Would you rather have Kamose protected from evil in the next life or lost because Ahmose insisted on having his deeds chronicled? There is no time to do both!”

“I know what you are thinking.” Ahmose had turned to his grandmother and was looking at her coolly. “In your secret heart you fear that I will begin to claim Kamose’s victories, all his great attempts to free us, all the pain of his heart, as my own. But even if I wanted to, I could not. The archives are full of his letters and dispatches to you, and unless I burned them all I could not assume my brother’s sad history. Nor would the gods approve of such dishonesty.” He sighed. “I pity you, Tetisheri. You think so ill of me that you are unable to lift up your head and see either Kamose or me as we really are. But I also warn you. I am now the King as well as your grandson. Try to curb your tongue if you cannot curb your thoughts, or you may find yourself accused of blasphemy.” She glared at him for a moment before slumping forward.

“You are right,” she managed through stiff lips. “I apologize to you, Majesty. I am an obstreperous old woman.” But Aahmes-nefertari, seeing the glint of mutiny in her hooded eyes, knew that the words she spoke were not the ones churning in her mind. Presently Tetisheri left the dais, stalking through the lamplight in the direction of her quarters.

“Forgive her, Ahmose,” Aahotep pleaded. “She grieves terribly for Kamose.”

“Grief can excuse much, but not everything,” was all Ahmose replied.

He continued to be absent a great deal, sometimes vanishing in the direction of the temple, sometimes walking with his ever-present guard of Followers to the barracks and the training ground. Several times in the month that followed, heralds arrived at the watersteps with messages for him, and Aahmes-nefertari, passing the closed door of the office, heard his voice interspersed with the rumble of other men’s tones. But she did not fret because she was excluded from their news. She had his confidence, and if anything of importance was reported to him she knew he would tell her at once.

Rising late one morning, she requested that her first meal be brought to her in the garden, and after being bathed, dressed and painted she made her way to the pool, only to find Ahmose already there, lying on his back under a billowing canopy. Hent-ta-Hent was sprawled naked on his stomach, deeply asleep, one tiny thumb still resting between her half-open lips, her wisps of soft black hair stirring in the breeze. Ahmose had one hand across her chubby back to prevent her from slipping and with the other he was gesticulating at Hor-Aha who sat cross-legged beside him. They were surrounded by Ipi and three of his under-scribes, all bent industriously over their palettes. Ahmose-onkh, also naked, stood by the water under the watchful eye of a servant, his shaved head, but for the wet and bedraggled youth lock straggling to his shoulder, gleaming in the strong light. When he saw his mother coming over the grass, he toddled towards her beaming, palms cupped. “Look, look!” he exclaimed in his excited high treble. “This frog jumped onto my foot!” Squatting, Aahmes-nefertari kissed his round cheek and admired his catch.

“But you must throw it back into the pond,” she cautioned him. “If you hold it too long its skin will become dry and hot and you will make it sick. It is special, Ahmoseonkh, and you must not harm it. Frogs are tokens of rebirth and we honour them.” He shrugged, already bored, and pouted, but he did as he was told, pausing on the edge of the pool to stroke the creature before tossing it carelessly away. It struck the water with scarcely a splash and Aahmes-nefertari, rising, saw it kick its way beneath the green spread of a lotus pad. She beckoned to the servant.

“Braid his youth lock,” she said. “He looks very untidy. And put him in a loincloth. He is three years old now. He must become used to being dressed.” Ahmose had turned his head at her approach, smiling broadly, and Hor-Aha had come to his feet to reverence her.

“Hor-Aha returned with his lists last night,” Ahmose said as she moved in under the shade of the canopy. “It was too beautiful a morning to waste in the gloom of the office, so I am listening to them out here. Later I must question the more senior men recommended myself, but I cannot move until Hent-ta-Hent wakes up.” He glanced fondly down at his daughter. “I think she is teething, Aahmesnefertari. She was dribbling and crying a great deal and the nursery servant could not calm her. What will you do today?”

“I thought I might take a litter and go out beside the fields,” she replied. “I want to see how this season’s crops are growing.” Then she burst out laughing. “Ahmose, you look ridiculously domestic with a baby draped over your belly!” Hent-ta-Hent stirred at the sound, made little smacking noises, and half-opened her eyes before relaxing into slumber once more. The thumb that had been in her mouth slid out to rest on her father’s chest.

“Yes, but the beat of my heart soothes her and the warmth of her body pacifies me,” he replied. “Your food is coming, Aahmes-nefertari. Sit and eat here while I finish my business. Then I think I will come with you. The officers are settling into the barracks. I can talk to them this evening.”

Surprised and pleased, she accepted his offer, savouring her meal with her eyes on the play of sun and shadow across the verdant spring glory of the garden and her ears open to Hor-Aha’s voice as he submitted a seemingly endless array of names together with descriptions of their strengths and weaknesses. Ahmose had eleven divisions to staff. That meant everything from Commanders to Standard Bearers, Charioteers to Captains of a Hundred, Greatest of Fifty to Instructors of Retainers.

Many of the rankings were entirely new to her, and she realized as she listened that Ahmose was creating them as he went. The army would indeed be different, rigidly codified and completely under his control. The knowledge brought her a certain peace, but sadness also. Kamose had done everything he could, but he had not had either the time or the foresight for something like this. He had prepared the way for his brother, hewing a crude beginning, but Ahmose would refine and perfect it, building on the foundation Kamose had left, and perhaps in time Kamose’s contribution would be forgotten. After all, he had been a mystery to his family, a dictator to his nobles, and a terror to the peasants whose villages he had destroyed. If Ahmose were able to bring about freedom and prosperity for Egypt, his brother might even become an embarrassment whose memory would be allowed to dwindle until he faded from the annals of the nation. Aahmes-nefertari shuddered. You would not have made a good King, dearest Kamose, she thought for the first time. The gods knew it, and that is why they used you to plough the ground and then took you away. It was not your destiny to rule.