The Oasis (11 page)

“One moment.” Kamose stood also. “Ramose came to Nefrusi with his father? How is he?” Meketra looked nonplussed.

“In good health but silent,” he said. “In fact Ramose has had little to say about anything.”

“Thank you. I will keep your escort here, Prince. Have we understood one another?” Meketra smiled.

“I believe so, Highness.” With another short bow that managed to encompass the whole cabin he left them.

Ahmose did not speak until the sound of the Prince’s footfalls on the deck had died away, then he drew a gusty breath. “Who would have thought it?” he exclaimed. “We do not know our history well enough, Kamose! Can we trust him?” Kamose shrugged.

“We have little choice,” he replied. “But I see the weight of the grudge he is carrying. Apepa is such a fool. Ahmose, take a couple of Braves and find the army. It cannot be more than an hour away. Hor-Aha, we attack just after dawn. Remember that the inhabitants of this estate,” he pointed to the map and then handed it to his brother, “must not be harmed. Neither must Teti or Ramose.” He turned to his steward. “Akhtoy, we must move north immediately. Tell the captain.”

Before long they were beating upriver and Kamose took his accustomed place in the prow, his eyes on the shrouded bank gliding slowly past. The moon was waning and its light was faint. The dull illumination of the stars barely reflected off the tremulous surface of the water. Ankhmahor and a contingent of Braves had come aboard in readiness to protect Kamose during the coming engagement. They stood quietly behind him, Ankhmahor to his left. Even war can become routine, Kamose thought. I have already grooved this habit upon my consciousness. Rise in the dark, wash and eat hastily, then walk out to take up my station in this precise spot on the deck with my senses raised to the same level of alertness they reached yesterday. The command to bring death has not yet become a familiar custom but it will, it will. So also the sight of blood and fire. He stirred and sighed.

Barely an hour later there was movement on the bank and a scout signalled to them. Kamose gave the order to heave to, and waited while the man came on board. “Nefrusi is there,” he said in answer to Kamose’s permission to speak. “You can perhaps make out the top of its walls, Majesty. The army has arrived. It marched between the fields and the trees. Prince Ahmose requests that he be allowed to remain with the troops. He waits for your word to the Medjay to begin closing in. It lacks an hour to the dawn.”

“Very well. He may begin. He must be ready to storm the gates at first light.” Other instructions sprang to Kamose’s tongue. Target the archers on the walls first. Make sure the men do not bunch up and fall over each other once they are through the gates. Make for the barracks immediately. Keep the horses contained or they will cause confusion. Cordon off the armoury so that the Setiu cannot replenish their weapons. Above all, be careful, Ahmose. He expressed none of them aloud. Dismissing the scout, he watched the skiff return the man to the bank, where he soon melted into the darkness. Ankhmahor sniffed the air. “The night is almost done, Majesty,” he remarked. “Ra is about to be born.” There were questions in his tone. Kamose turned to the cabin.

“Akhtoy, open my Amun shrine and prepare incense,” he called. “We will pray, Ankhmahor, and then we will disembark. It is time.”

The sky was almost imperceptibly paler when they emerged from the cabin and entered the skiff, the Braves remaining in the other vessels following suit at Kamose’s shout. Gathering on the bank, they set off along the river path, Kamose in the centre of his bodyguards, the two hundred Braves before and behind. Now the roofless height of the fort could be discerned, and even as Kamose scanned it anxiously, a cry rang out. Something formless dropped from the wall and suddenly a dozen such shapes sprang into focus, men crouched above, peering down even as Kamose looked up. Another cry tore through the limpid morning air. Then the Medjay howled, the primitive sound echoed almost at once by an answering clamour off to Kamose’s left. The figures on the wall fell one by one. Abruptly the vegetation gave way to naked space, wide watersteps against which two large barges rocked, and Kamose and his men found themselves confronting the full elevation of the fort.

The gate was open and already a seething mass of soldiers mingling with the darker, slighter Medjay were pouring inside. Behind them, filling the area between fort and watersteps, more troops jostled as they joined the flow. The noise was deafening. Kamose made out Prince Iasen and Prince Mesehti with their standard bearers, calmly issuing orders in the midst of what seemed to be chaos. There was no sign of Hor-Aha or Ahmose, and Kamose presumed that they were with the majority of the army as it stormed the western gate.

The light was strengthening rapidly. Long shadows began to resolve and lengthen at the foot of the wall, snaking dark and increasingly sharp towards the river, while the sky flushed with a delicate pink and in the trees the birds burst forth with their morning song. All at once Kamose and the Braves found themselves alone but for the few bodies of the Setiu archers that had fallen and now lay trampled into the sand by the hordes rushing heedlessly over them. Beyond the gate the noise continued unabated, yells and screams, the frightened shrieks of horses, the loud shouts of officers. But no hysterical sobbing, no voices of women raised in terror, Kamose thought. Compared with what else I have done, this is clean. Now all I have to do is wait.

Long before the shadows had foreshortened towards noon, the struggle for Nefrusi was over and Kamose and his men walked through the gate and into a vast compound littered with bodies and debris. Picking his way, he was approached by Ahmose, Hor-Aha and Meketra. Ahmose was drenched in sweat and streaked with blood. The axe at his belt hung crusted and the sword in his hand was befouled to the hilt. “It was no battle, Kamose,” he said. “Look around you. It was like trapping frightened rabbits in a small field. I held back a large portion of the army or else we would have been packed elbow to elbow in here. Less than half a division was necessary. Of course, if the gates had not been opened, it would have been a different story.” He cast a sidelong glance at Meketra who was standing stolidly beside him.

“We are in your debt, Prince,” Kamose said. “Take your family and go to Khemmenu. All Teti’s possessions are forfeit to me, and I deed them to you. Go at once.” He thought he saw disappointment flare in the man’s heavy-lidded eyes. Meketra wants to see Teti die, he realized with distaste. He is willing to endure the mute hostility of the survivors here so that he may glut himself on Teti’s death throes. After a slight hesitation Meketra bowed and backed away.

“Every Prince under you could be called traitor by those loyal to Apepa,” Ankhmahor said in a low voice. “Why then should Meketra conjure such disgust in me?”

“Because there is something polluted in his ka,” Kamose answered immediately. “His cause is just, but there is no honour in him.” He turned to his General. “What are our losses, Hor-Aha?”

“None, Majesty,” Hor-Aha replied promptly. “A few scratches, nothing more. This small quarrel will go a long way towards inspiring the men with confidence. After this, they will begin to be soldiers.” He passed Kamose a scroll that he had been holding. “The man carrying this was caught and killed just after the battle began,” he said. “He had no hope of slipping through the Medjay cordon in any case but, of course, Teti did not know that.”

Puzzled, Kamose unrolled the papyrus. It was a hastily scrawled, terse message. “To His Majesty Awoserra Aqenenra Apepa, the Mighty Bull of Ma’at, greetings. Know that your ungrateful and traitorous servant Kamose Tao has even now fallen upon your fort here at Nefrusi with a great force of renegade men. Send us help at once or we perish. I am your loyal subject Teti, Governor of Khemmenu and Inspector of your Dykes and Canals.” Kamose laughed grimly.

“What did he think? That Apepa would somehow magically receive the scroll within moments and just as magically waft an army southward to rescue his worthless carcase? Let us move on. Hor-Aha, have your officers distribute the weapons in the armoury. Find men who can handle horses and put them in charge of the stables. The chariots must go to the Princes first and then to the commanders. Ahmose, return to the boat and wash. Give this scroll to Ipi for filing and tell him to arrange for the contents of the granaries to be tallied and loaded onto the barges moored here. Hor-Aha, make sure that Meketra and his family have left and then order all the crops around to be fired. I also want you to choose several capable men, promote them to officer rank, and put them in charge of any surviving Setiu. They are to stay here and see to the razing of these walls. I want Nefrusi reduced to nothing but a firmness under the sand. And take Reshep out of his shrine and smash him loudly, in full view of everyone. Where is Teti?”

“He is still in the commander’s quarters,” Ahmose said. “I set a guard over him but he showed no inclination to come out. Ramose is with him. He is wounded.”

“Ramose fought?”

“Yes. Fortunately he was recognized and overpowered before one of the Medjay could run him through. I had no time to speak with him, Kamose.” How did a man of such integrity spring from Teti’s loins? Kamose wondered. I have looked forward to eating this dish, but now that it has been set before me my gorge rises and I want to flee.

“The sun is hot and the stink around us is becoming overpowering,” he said aloud. “Come with me, Ankhmahor. I will confront my kinsman but I will pass no judgement until you return, Ahmose, and the Princes can be gathered together.” His head was beginning to ache. He knew that the pain had no physical cause and he ignored it, making his way with an inner shrinking towards the building where Meketra had brooded, nursing the bitterness of his demotion.

The guards on the door of the commander’s quarters saluted and gave way, and with a deep breath Kamose went in. The building was merely two rooms, one for sleeping and the larger one, in which Kamose and Hor-Aha now stood, for the administration of the fort. It was functionally bare, containing little more than shelves for the boxes that held the records of Nefrusi’s inhabitants, a few stools, and one chair behind a desk. The floor was beaten earth without covering, but out of the corner of his eye Kamose could see the edge of a piece of yellow flax matting in the commander’s private cell, and a brief, furtive movement.

Reluctantly he turned his attention to the two men who had risen to their feet at his approach. One had a linen bandage around his waist. He was pale and moved with difficulty. “Greetings, Ramose,” Kamose said quietly. “Are you in much pain?” The young man shook his head.

“Greetings, Kamose,” he replied hoarsely. “I would be happy to see you again if the circumstances were less distressing. As for my wound, it is not serious, only uncomfortable. An arrow grazed me. Its flight was almost spent.” I want to take you in my arms and beg your forgiveness for your father, for Tani, for the ruin your life has become, Kamose cried out to him silently. I am terrified that you no longer have any affection or respect for me. You know what I must do. There is no way out.

With difficulty he forced his gaze to Teti. The man was barefoot and unpainted. He was clad in nothing but a short kilt fastened loosely under the sagging mound of his belly and Kamose surmised that, having been woken suddenly by the attack, he had simply wrapped himself in the garment and then cowered here, waiting. Kamose could smell the fear coming from him, acrid and humiliating.

“Teti, I do not remember you this way,” he said. “You have become an old man.”

“And you are no longer the handsome, quiet boy who used to pick fruit from my garden,” Teti ground out, though he had begun to tremble. “You have become a murderer, Kamose Tao. Your delusions will not carry you much farther. Apepa will crush you in the end.”

“Perhaps,” Kamose replied, full of a momentary pity for the man who had presided with such pomp and self-assurance over the prosperity that had been Khemmenu. “I think you are wrong, but even if this war turns against me and I and all who support me are destroyed, at least I will have done the right thing, the honourable thing.”

“The honourable thing?” Teti shouted querulously. “Honour resides in loyalty to those in authority and to the King most of all! I have been honourable all my life!”

“You really believe that, don’t you?” Kamose said. “But was it honourable to corrupt my brother Si-Amun, so that he had no choice but to take his own life? Was it honourable to engineer the attack on my father through a member of his own household? To agree to take everything my family owns in payment for this so-called loyalty? Those things go beyond mere faithfulness, Teti. They belong to greed and a cold callousness. They are the acts that have signed your death warrant, not Apepa.”

“It is nothing but revenge!” Teti broke in hotly. His face had flushed a hectic red and Kamose saw sweat begin to trickle under his armpits. “You would have done the same if you had been trapped in my situation!”

“I do not think so. Oh, my uncle, I know what led you into such a snare. I know that your grandfather led an insurrection against Sekerher, Apepa’s own grandfather, and had his tongue cut out for his temerity. I know that your father, Pepi, served long and hard in Apepa’s army and thus lifted your family out of shame. These things are clean. They belong to the realm of Ma’at, action and consequence, the promptings of conscience that cause a man to do what he believes to be right. If your deeds had been born of such roots, I could applaud them, even though I could not agree.” He paused and swallowed, aware that his voice had been rising with his fury. “But you twisted that loyalty into something filthy,” he went on more calmly, “the pain and death of your own kin in exchange for personal gain. You could have come to us, explained the net being cast around you, begged for help or advice from Seqenenra. You did not, and that is why I am going to execute you.” Teti’s knees at last gave way and he sank onto the stool.

“You do not understand the pressure, Kamose,” he choked. “Everything for you is black or white, right or wrong. You do not see the subtleties of either. If you did, you would not be slaughtering innocent citizens in your mad meanderings down the Nile. Do you think I lost no sleep over the decisions I made? Felt no remorse?” Kamose folded his arms against the almost physical stab of rage Teti’s words caused him. What do you know of remorse? his mind clamoured. Of the foul necessities that are haunting my couch and poisoning my food? Of the pity and horror that threaten to unseat my very ka?