The Oasis (33 page)

Peremuah touched her elbow, bringing her to a halt directly in front of the open reception hall. He stepped to one side, forcing her to shift her body as he spoke to her, and at last Ramose could drink in the face whose delineaments were scored into his heart. She was fully painted, the generous, laughing mouth red with henna, the eyelids green and sparkling with gold dust, the black kohl accentuating her large, fine eyes. At nearly eighteen years old she was no longer a wiry child beginning to bud. Maturity had widened her hips and swelled her breasts, given her a portion of the dignity and regality of her mother, but in her quick movements and unselfconscious laughter she was still the girl who had sat beside him and slipped her arm through his, squinting across at him in the white sunlight, inviting lips parted over strong young teeth.

Why are you laughing, Tani? Ramose cried out dumbly. I love you, love you still, love you always, my own laughter has been tinged with this grief ever since Apepa took you away. Is your mirth a dutiful deceit, like mine? I am here. Can you not feel my presence? I could call to you from these mighty pillars. Would you recognize my voice? As if reading his loud thought, Kethuna put a warning hand on his arm, and at that moment Peremuah bowed to Tani and walked briskly away. Ramose saw her wave impatiently behind her and a flock of attendants came into view, following her as she strolled out of his sight. One of them was Heket, a servant Ramose vaguely remembered from his visits to the estate in Weset.

Something about Tani’s imperious gesture and the response of the servants made Ramose apprehensive as he trod the echoing hall after Kethuna’s sturdy back, but he did his best to quell it before facing Apepa’s searching glance. He needed his wits about him to play out the next scene in this critical drama, but for a few blinding minutes he was lost in the overwhelming force of a dream brought intensely to life. He did not have to fabricate his distress and confusion as once more he approached the table.

This time Apepa invited him to sit, and as he did so he realized that he was bathed in sweat. “Well, son of Teti,” Apepa said smoothly. “What do you think?”

“She is incomparably beautiful,” Ramose replied huskily.

“Yes, she is, and still full of the fire of her southern deserts. She has become very popular with my courtiers.” He was watching Ramose carefully. “Would you like to speak with her?” Oh gods, Ramose thought despairingly. I do not have to be an actor any more. I do not have to hide. Even if I had indeed come to Het-Uart with Kamose’s stern warning not to reveal anything to the enemy, I would be ready to forfeit my honour right now. He licked his dry lips.

“On what terms?” he croaked.

“No terms,” Apepa said emphatically. “You answer every question I or my generals put to you. When I am satisfied that you have been emptied of all information, I will arrange for you to see Tani alone and uninterrupted. Are you agreed?” Emptied. The word rang hollow in Ramose’s mind. Emptied. Empty me then as Kamose wished, for I have become nothing but a shell holding love for Tani and the means of your downfall, vile Setiu. Everything else has gone. He did not need to prolong the moment before he conceded but he let it draw out so that Apepa could see a struggle on his face. Then he gave in, lowering his head and letting his shoulders slump as he did so.

“I am agreed,” he said. At once Apepa tapped a gong and Nehmen entered.

“Have food brought, something hot,” Apepa ordered. “Afterwards keep everyone away from this door.” He crooked a finger at Ramose. “Come close and look at this map,” he ordered. “Itju, are you ready to take down the words?” From the floor where he still sat the scribe assented. “Good,” Apepa continued. “Now, Ramose, how many soldiers are at the oasis?” Ramose got up and went to stand beside him.

“Kamose has forty thousand troops there,” he lied.

“Under whose command? Which Princes?”

“Under his Wawat General Hor-Aha, and beneath him are the Princes Intef, Iasen, Mesehti, Makhu and Ankhmahor.”

“I remember the Wawat General.” The deep voice belonged to Pezedkhu. “He fought for Seqenenra at Qes. He has Medjay archers under his black thumb. Where are the Medjay, Ramose?”

“Kamose took them to Weset with him during the Inundation,” Ramose answered. “They returned north with him and now they have joined with the navy at Het nefer Apu.”

“We know of the troops at Het nefer Apu,” Pezedkhu went on thoughtfully. “So Kamose is trying to train a navy, is he? Under whom?”

“Paheri and Baba Abana of Nekheb.” Ramose watched the General’s finger trace the track from Het nefer Apu across the desert to Uah-ta-Meh.

“What are Kamose’s plans for these forty thousand men?” Apepa asked.

“Another siege, Majesty,” Ramose told him glibly. “He intends to join them with the forces at Het nefer Apu and surround Het-Uart again but this time with boats full of fighting sailors as well as infantry. He believes he will succeed this year if he can use the boats to fill the canals around the city.” Apepa laughed without humour.

“The fool! Het-Uart is impregnable. It cannot be successfully sieged. Why did he send them to the oasis in the first place?”

“To keep them a secret from you,” Ramose said promptly. “It would have required an enormous effort to take them to Weset and bring them back when the river receded. Besides, they are still a rabble. Hor-Aha needed a winter and plenty of space to continue their training.”

“It is already Phamenoth,” Pezedkhu said. “We are two months into the campaign season. Why has Kamose not moved?” Ramose met those perceptive eyes steadily.

“Because the men are not quite ready and because the Princes have been quarrelling,” he said flatly. “They resent Hor-Aha. Each wants precedence over him. When Kamose arrived, he had to put down a small mutiny.” Apepa exclaimed in satisfaction but Pezedkhu’s expression did not change.

“You are suddenly very free with your information, Ramose,” he almost whispered. Ramose drew back.

“I have betrayed my Lord for the sake of a woman,” he said simply. “What use is there in fastidiousness now? I have already ensured my ka an unfavourable weighing in the Judgement Hall of Osiris.”

“That depends on whose cause is just,” Apepa said impatiently. “I wonder how much longer Kamose will stay where he is.” He glanced at Pezedkhu, and Ramose saw the gleam of speculation in his eyes. Pezedkhu shook his head.

“No, my King.”

“Why not?”

“Because I do not trust this man.” He pointed at Ramose.

“Neither do I, but Yamusa’s testimony agrees with what we have heard. Kamose is there. His army is there. The oasis is indefensible, wide open. In eleven days we could fall upon Kamose with twice the number of troops he has, and wipe him out.”

“No!” Pezedkhu had risen. “Listen to me, Mighty Bull. Here in the city you are safe. Your thousands of soldiers are safe. Kamose can be defeated without any risk. As long as we sit here patiently and let him exhaust himself with siege after fruitless siege we are sure to regain Egypt in the end. Do not be swayed by this temptation!” For answer Apepa’s finger slashed at the map.

“From the Delta to Ta-she, six days. From there to the oasis, another four. Think of it, Pezedkhu. In two weeks victory could be mine. What is the risk? Only slightly greater than no risk at all. Fall on the oasis, slaughter the rabble, then march another four days and take the troops at Het nefer Apu by surprise.”

“Water, Majesty.”

“But there is water at Ta-she, water at the oasis, water in the Nile.”

“And supposing Kamose is waiting for us? Fresh and rested while we have marched from Ta-she four days across that accursed waste?”

“We could overwhelm him with numbers alone.” Apepa sat back. “Even if Ramose is lying regarding the count of men and Yamusa’s eyes deceived him, we have enough soldiers to predict the successful outcome of any engagement. The gods have sent us a precious opportunity. In the oasis we would face Kamose in pitched battle with a distinct advantage and we would win.”

“This recklessness is not like you, Majesty,” Pezedkhu protested. Apepa had opened his mouth to reply when Nehmen entered, coming across the room with a train of laden servants behind him. Quickly and efficiently they placed the trays of steaming dishes on the table, removed the used cups, filled bowls with scented water and laid linen beside them, before bowing themselves out. Apepa gestured.

“You may eat also, Ramose,” he said. Ramose was not hungry in spite of his meagre breakfast, but he did not want to appear arrogant. He picked politely at the food.

“How well armed are Kamose’s troops?” Kethuna asked. He was scooping out the flesh of a pomegranate, the gelid red seeds heaped on his spoon.

“They began with whatever weapons Kamose had to hand,” Ramose told him. “Later, as they plundered the garrisons and the forts, they acquired axes, swords, bows, and the chariots and horses they found at Nefrusi and Nagta-Hert. My Lord’s problem has always been teaching his peasants to use what they took. Only the Medjay and Kamose’s Weset soldiers needed no time for that.” He did not elaborate, knowing that the listeners would remember the reasons he had given them for the army’s long sojourn in the oasis.

“What are the brothers like?” The question came from Apepa’s son. Ramose, thinking rapidly, decided to tell the truth.

“My Lord Kamose is a harsh but fair man. He likes to be alone. He is brave. He hates you Setiu for what you have done to his father and what you have tried to do to his family and he wants revenge. He will not stop until he gets it or dies in the attempt. He is loyal to those who give him loyalty in return. His brother is more subdued. He is a thinker. He sees farther than Kamose.”

“He is more dangerous then,” Pezedkhu interposed and Ramose thought with a shock, why yes, I suppose he is. He stands in Kamose’s shadow. Most of the time he is barely noticed, yet his presence is always felt.

Apepa dabbled his fingers in one of the bowls and wiped them studiously on a square of linen. “We have decisions to make,” he said. “Ramose, you will be taken back to your room for the present. I have two more questions, however. Where is Prince Meketra? And does Kamose have a large concentration of troops anywhere other than the oasis and Het nefer Apu?”

“Khemmenu and the governorship of its nome have been given back to Meketra,” Ramose said with a stab of bitterness he could not conceal. “Kamose has left no forces of any note anywhere but Uah-ta-Meh and Het nefer Apu, but his home is well defended by his household guards.” He rose. “When may I speak with Tani?”

“That depends on whether or not we have finished our talk,” Apepa said affably. “You will be sent word tomorrow. The soldier on your door will see that you are brought anything you need. You are dismissed.” With a curt nod Ramose turned on his heel and strode towards the door but he still heard the young Apepa say in a low voice, “Father, you are not going to leave them alone together are you? Her person is now sac—”

“Peace!” Apepa hissed. The doors closed quietly behind Ramose.

9

THE REST OF THE DAY
dragged for Ramose. Escorted back to his room and firmly sequestered, he had nothing to do but pace and think. He was pleased that he had acquitted himself so well with regard to Kamose’s instructions. He had convinced Apepa that the army was smaller than it really was, less battle ready, less disciplined, and he had blown up the mild dissatisfaction of the Princes into a mutiny that Apepa was eager to exploit. General Pezedkhu was not so readily persuaded. It was his responsibility to be cautious, of course, but unless he could produce compelling arguments to support his suspicions that all was not as Ramose had described, Apepa would override his objections and push for the emptying of Het-Uart. And Apepa had the last word.

The worst was over. I have done my part, Ramose thought, as he wandered about the room, his fingers absently brushing the walls, his eyes moving unseeingly over the sparse furnishings. Now if Apepa keeps his word, I may freely look forward to a meeting with Tani. Beyond that, my future is dark. Obviously Apepa cannot set me free. Will he execute me or imprison me permanently in the palace? Will it be possible to plan an escape with Tani? So much depends on what we have to say to each other, whether her love for me has survived.

And why would it not? he asked himself worriedly. Why should I presume that her affections have altered in a little less than two short years? Because of what you saw in the garden, he answered himself. The vizier bowed to her as though she were a woman of authority, and her entourage was large. Well, Apepa himself said that she had become very popular with the courtiers. The bow might have been merely a mark of friendly respect. And what can I make of the young Apepa’s quiet protest to his father? ‘Her person is now sac—’ Her person is now what? Sacred? If so, then how? Why? Sternly Ramose put a stop to the flow of anxious speculations. I have only to wait, he said to himself, and all will become clear.

Going to the door, he opened it and addressed the guard outside. “Have beer brought to me,” he said. “And if there are any scrolls of stories or histories in the palace archives I want them also. I am bored.” The things he requested were promptly provided and he spent the remainder of the day reading. Gradually the light blurred on his wall and finally faded, but he did not bother to light the lamp. When he could no longer see to read, he took off his clothes and curled up on the couch.