The Oasis (23 page)

“They are there,” he said quietly. “The fields are unkempt but someone has been making an attempt at the spring sowing. It had to be done, Kamose. We both know that. The women and plenty of children remain. Dashlut is not completely dead.” Kamose did not reply, and the hush that had overtaken the Medjay was not broken until the melancholy village had disappeared into the dimness behind them.

They spent the night just out of sight of Khemmenu, but Kamose sent a message to Meketra warning him of their approach, and in the morning a delegation was waiting above the watersteps to welcome them. Kamose, striding down the ramp and onto the stone to receive the homage of the men gathered there, noted with relief that the Prince had not wasted the winter months. No evidence of the carnage of last year met his eye. The docks were busy. Laden donkeys thronged the space between Nile and town. Children ran and shouted, the large communal ovens smoked, and a group of women stood knee-deep on the edge of the river slapping their laundry against the rocks and gossiping. “You have not been idle, Prince,” he remarked approvingly as Meketra straightened from his obeisance and together they walked towards the town. Meketra smiled.

“I have taken in the male survivors of Dashlut with their families,” he said eagerly. “There were not many, but I put them to work at once. The streets are clean and the houses whitewashed. Many are empty of course. The widows have moved in with relatives. They labour in Khemmenu’s fields in exchange for food from the granaries and storehouses. All discarded weapons have been collected and repaired for you, Majesty, if you need them. I cannot yet reopen the calcite and alabaster quarries at Hatnub. There are not enough men for such heavy labour. But Your Majesty will send us men when the war is won, will you not?”

Kamose fought against the irritation Meketra’s flood of self-congratulatory words spawned in him. The Prince had achieved a great deal since Kamose had ordered him out of Nefrusi and back to the estate Teti had occupied. The streets had been raked of blood-clotted soil, the refuse cleared away, and the walls of the houses gleamed where once they had been splashed with mire. “I congratulate you,” he managed, forcing warmth into his voice. “You have done very well, Meketra. I cannot promise you anything yet, of course, and even when we are victorious I will have to maintain a standing army, but I will not forget your request.” They had come to the wide avenue leading to Thoth’s temple and Kamose halted. “I must pay my respects to the god,” he went on. “Then we will break our fast with you.” He did not wait for Meketra’s bow but turned from him hastily, Ahmose at his elbow.

“Be careful, Kamose,” Ahmose whispered as they approached the pylon. “He must not see how you dislike him. He has indeed performed a miracle here.”

“I know,” Kamose said. “The fault is mine, not his. Yet something tells me that for every feat and favour he accomplishes he will expect to be rewarded tenfold, either in preferments or in kind. That is not loyalty.”

“It is loyalty of a sort,” Ahmose murmured dryly, “but not what one might anticipate from a noble. Still, he is useful.” Loyal, Kamose thought. Useful. Are we back to that, Ahmose? He bent down, and removing his sandals, began to cross the wide outer court.

He recognized the priest who was standing just inside the inner court and watching them come. The man inclined his head, an impersonal greeting, and nothing could be read from his expression. As they reached him, Kamose held up his sandals. “There is no blood on them this time,” he said. The cool eyes flicked to Kamose’s hand and back to his face.

“Have you brought a gift, Kamose Tao?” he enquired.

“Yes,” Kamose replied smoothly. “I have given you Prince Meketra. Let me warn you, priest. I am indulgent towards your veiled insolence because last time I entered Thoth’s domain I was not purified, but here my tolerance ends. I can command Meketra to have you replaced. You are a man who is unafraid to defend his god and his concept of Ma’at and for that I admire you, but I will not hesitate to have you disciplined if you refuse to accord me the reverence my blood demands. Am I understood?”

“Perfectly, Majesty.” The man stepped aside but his spine did not bend. “Enter and pay your vows to Thoth.”

They crossed the smaller inner court and prostrated themselves before the doors to the sanctuary, praying silently, but Kamose doubted that his words were heard, for he could not keep his mind on them. He remembered the wounded that had lain in the outer court, the sobbing women, the few harried physicians, the atmosphere of hostility through which he and Ahmose had waded as though it were dirty water. Khemmenu will never be mine, he thought as he came to his feet. It was Teti’s and therefore Apepa’s for too long. And what of you, great Thoth, with your ibis beak and your tiny, knowing eyes? Do you rejoice to see Egypt re-forming or is your divine will opposed to the will of Amun? He sighed, the sound magnified in sibilant echoes, and taking his brother’s arm he went out past the priest’s exaggerated bow and into the brilliant sunshine.

It was unsettling to sit in the reception hall of the house to which he had come many times in his youth and see strangers leaning across the little tables to speak to him in voices that struck no chord of recognition. Most of Teti’s furniture had gone, but Kamose noticed that the pieces Meketra’s wife had kept were the most beautiful and costly. He thought of his own mother who in the same circumstances would most certainly have given it all away rather than profit in even the smallest way from another’s downfall. I am not being just, Kamose tried to tell himself as he nodded and smiled at the conversation directed at him. This house was theirs before it was Teti’s. They must regard its contents as reparation for the years of exile at Nefrusi. But he liked Meketra’s wife no better than the Prince himself, and one of Meketra’s young sons was wearing an earring Kamose had last seen dangling from Ramose’s lobe.

Meketra sat smiling indulgently while his family prattled on artlessly, regaling the royal pair with stories of their hardships outside the fort, the coldness and rudeness of Teti’s wife, and of course Meketra’s monumental and selfless efforts to restore Khemmenu. In the end Kamose was forced to remind them with unmistakable authority that they were maligning his relatives by marriage and it was with considerable relief that he and Ahmose at last took their leave. “It is entirely likely that Apepa sent Meketra to Nefrusi to rid Khemmenu of that woman’s gossiping tongue,” Ahmose remarked as Ankhmahor and the Followers closed in around them and they made their way back to their boat. “She has got rid of Teti’s servants, did you notice, Kamose? but she has kept the silver dishes Aahotep gave to Nefer-Sakharu.” He followed Kamose up the ramp and flung himself down under the sunshade. Kamose waved at his captain, and at once the sailors on shore began to untie the mooring lines.

“They are mannerless,” Kamose agreed. “But that is a mild annoyance beside the question of whether or not they are trustworthy. Thank Amun we do not have to worry about it just now! Akhtoy, bring me Weset wine. My mouth feels foul.”

Nefrusi was only a short distance downstream and here, as at Khemmenu, great changes had taken place. As his boat tacked to shore in the late afternoon heat, Kamose looked in vain for the sturdy walls and thick gates that would have caused him so much delay if it had not been for Meketra. Piles of rubble littered the ground, cracked stone and chipped mud bricks through which the peasants clambered seeking usable pieces with which to repair their huts or grind their grain. The captain Kamose had left in charge of the demolition picked his way to the foot of the ramp and bowed as Kamose and Ahmose descended. He was dusty and smiling. Kamose greeted him affably. “There has been no trouble with the Setiu workmen, Majesty,” the man said in answer to Kamose’s question. “I think that in another month the site will be level. What must I do with them then? I have left the barracks standing for shelter.” Kamose considered.

“Have them set up the barracks as their permanent home,” he decided. “You and your assistants can move into the house Prince Meketra’s family left. The Setiu can haul soil in here and after the next Inundation they can become farmers. You must know them all well by now. Kill any who are still surly or recalcitrant and continue to guard the rest so that none are able to go north. Keep them away from the local peasants at least until I have defeated Het-Uart, and send me regular reports. You have done well here. I am glad that Nefrusi can be left in your hands. Is there anything you need?” The man bowed.

“If we are to become a village, it would be good to have a physician here,” he said. “Also a priest to serve the shrine to Amun I would like to build. Another scribe would lighten our load also.” Kamose turned to Ipi who was writing furiously.

“You have recorded that?” he asked. Ipi nodded. “Good. You shall have what you require, captain. Ipi will draw up a requisition for you to take to Khemmenu. Use it judiciously. It will give you the authority to enter the granaries and storehouses as well, until such time as the Setiu begin producing their own wheat and vegetables. If they behave, we may supply them with wives next year.” The captain looked at Kamose uncertainly and seeing the King’s grin he laughed.

“Women will multiply my problems, Majesty,” he said. “They are one luxury the foreigners can do without, at least for now. I thank Your Majesty, and if you will dismiss me I will return to work.”

“Have wine and beer unloaded for the captain and his soldiers,” Kamose instructed his scribe as he regained the deck. “And make a note that if all goes well here the captain must be promoted.” He stretched. “I feel lighthearted today, Ahmose. We will not move on until the morning. Het nefer Apu is only another forty miles downstream and we are making good time. Mekhir is not yet upon us.”

“I wonder what we shall see before we get there,” Ahmose muttered. “Ten villages we destroyed last year, Kamose. I imagine that the fields are already full of weeds.” Kamose did not answer. Turning abruptly on his heel, he went into the cabin and closed the door.

As Ahmose had predicted, the land from Nefrusi onwards had a derelict air. Acres of untilled brown earth showed between clumps of rank grass and tufts of ungainly wild growth. Here and there the irrigation canals had silted up and debris from the flood—tree branches, the bones of animals, old birds’ nests and other flotsam—still lay on the untended ground. Close to the ravaged villages, small groups of bedraggled women and listless children could be seen, bent over the tiny patches they had cleared. They did not even straighten up as the flotilla went by. “Give them grain, Kamose!” Ahmose urged as they stood side by side. “We have plenty!” But Kamose, his mouth drawn into a thin line, shook his head.

“No. Let them suffer. We will give them peasant males from our own nome who will fill these miserable houses with Egyptian children, not Setiu half-breeds. Ankhmahor!” he shouted irritably to the Commander of his Followers. “Send back to the other boats and tell the Medjay to stop their noise! It does not go well with the cheerless neglect around us!” Wisely Ahmose did not try to argue with him and no other words passed between the brothers as the sad miles lengthened behind them.

One day out of Het nefer Apu they encountered their own scouts posted to permanently watch the river traffic, and it was with great relief that long before the town came in sight the sounds of the navy filled the limpid air, mingling with the dust of its camp. The Medjay began to babble excitedly. Kamose’s captain ran to climb up beside the helmsman, alternately issuing orders and shouting warnings to the captains of the great cedar barques choking the river. Heralds on the bank began to join their voices to the general hubbub and Kamose heard their cries fly from mouth to mouth. “The King is here! His Majesty has arrived! Make ready for the Mighty Bull!” Sailors tumbled from the tents that lined the Nile to bow and stare, and behind the furore the town itself emerged, a press of low buildings around which streams of busy people, plodding donkeys and laden carts swirled. The clamour reached out to embrace the brothers with the arms of an optimistic normality and Kamose felt his spine loosen after the weight of the melancholy and silent vistas they had passed through.

He and Ahmose, followed by Akhtoy and Ipi, reached the foot of the ramp, and the Followers immediately took up their positions around the royal pair. After giving the Medjay officers permission for the archers to disembark, Kamose set off towards the largest tent, pitched a little way away from the others, but before he reached it Paheri emerged, Baba Abana at his side, and came swinging along the uneven path. Halting, both men knelt with their foreheads in the dust. Kamose bade them rise and together they re-entered the tent. Paheri indicated a chair and Kamose, taking it, waved the rest of them down. Ahmose sat on a stool but Paheri and Baba Abana sank cross-legged onto the worn carpet. Although the tent was spacious, its furnishings were sparse. A lamp hung from its sloping roof, swaying gently in the breeze that was lifting its sides. Two camp cots were set far apart. A table stood at the closed end and under it a large chest. Beside it a scribe was bowing profoundly. A plain travelling copper shrine had been placed behind it. Just inside the tent flap a servant waited. Akhtoy joined him. Ipi settled himself on the carpet by Kamose’s feet and began to arrange his palette.

Kamose surveyed his two naval officers. Paheri was glancing about with the shadow of a frown on his face, an invisible list obviously being checked off in his mind. Everything from his upright back to his calmly folded hands and the air of worried authority he exuded spoke of his years as an administrator in Nekheb. Baba Abana, however, sat with casual ease, his kilt rumpled over his thighs, his calloused fingers tracing an absent pattern on the rug in front of his folded legs. “Give me your reports,” Kamose said. Paheri cleared his throat, held out a hand to his scribe for the massive scroll, unrolled the papyrus, and shot Kamose a stern though impersonal glance.

“I think you will be very pleased with what Baba and I have done with the riff-raff soldiers you left us,” he said. “All of us, officers and men, have worked extremely hard to develop an effective marine force. My shipwrights from Nekheb have made sure that each of the thirty cedar craft you left with us was kept in excellent repair. I have here an account of each boat, the names of its officers and men, and the particular skill of each one of them. Approximately one in five of the soldiers here could not swim when we began their training. Now they can all not only swim but dive as well.”