The Oasis (46 page)

“You may indeed,” she said, “and not a word will pass between your brother and myself until that moment.” Her tone held no sarcasm. Ahmose nodded and he and Aahmes-nefertari left. Uni appeared around the open door.

“Has Your Majesty need of anything?” he enquired.

“Yes. Bring more wine and two clean cups and whatever sweetmeats remain from the meal in the garden,” she ordered. “And make sure Kares and Hetepet are with Aahotep. Ask Kares to bring me word on his mistress’s condition in an hour or two. Tell Isis I will undress myself tonight. She can go to bed.” The steward bowed himself out. Tetisheri rose stiffly and began to pace. “My joints ache,” she murmured. “Why do they ache in summer? It is usually the cold winter nights that seep into them.” She sighed. “Ah, Kamose. The news of Tani has taken the bloom from your victory. We must bring her home when you finally kill the impostor. Pick up that cushion from the floor and put it on my chair for me. The bones of my old buttocks jut out like a donkey’s pelvis. Thank you. The three of us have much to discuss when your brother returns.” She continued to walk up and down until with a discreet knock Uni and a servant entered and set pastries and wine on the table. Ahmose came back as they were withdrawing. The door was closed. Tetisheri lowered herself into her chair. “Is she asleep?” she wanted to know.

“Not yet, but she is more peaceful,” Ahmose replied. He took up a platter and a cup, filled them both, then regained his position on the floor. Kamose joined him.

“We will put Tani out of our minds,” Tetisheri said determinedly. “Not out of our hearts or our prayers, of course, but it will do no good to endlessly hurl imprecations at Apepa and accusations at Tani. I want to hear of the campaign and the battle. The oasis, the desert march, the spiking of the wells and springs of the oasis, everything. The Abanas and Paheri gave me a clear vision of your navy’s composition, morale and purpose this afternoon, so do not bore me with things I have heard already. You have good men there, Kamose.” The brothers looked at each other, then raised their cups in unspoken agreement.

“We salute you, Grandmother,” Ahmose said with a grin. “You are truly an unstoppable force.”

“Do not be impertinent,” she retorted as they drank, but she was obviously pleased.

Their gesture had lightened the sombre atmosphere that had lingered in the room. All at once it became a cozy haven. The lamps sent out a steady glow, softening the grooves in Tetisheri’s face, creating warm shadows, serving to draw the three of them together. The food on the table smelled sweet, its odour mingling with the faint tang of the wine, and Kamose thought briefly how it was the memory of simple sensual pleasures accumulating over a lifetime that yielded an ultimate sanity and wholeness. He was not hungry. As Ahmose cleared his plate and refilled it, Kamose drank his wine and began an account of all that had happened since he last left Weset. There was much to say that had been impossible to express in the regular reports he had dictated. Tetisheri listened attentively, interrupting him sometimes with abrupt questions.

When Ahmose had finished eating, he joined in and gradually Kamose realized that Ahmose was taking over the conversation. Neither his grandmother nor his brother seemed to notice that he himself had fallen silent. There was a harmony between them that Kamose had never seen before. Ahmose talked easily and vividly, answering Tetisheri with smiles and gestures, and she in turn became animated, leaning forward, her own withered fingers moving like fans through the still air. Kamose watched them bemused, but slowly his surprise dwindled and the sense of dislocation that had almost unmanned him on the boat returned.

They have an understanding, he thought. After years of polite distance between them they have suddenly learned to respect each other. When did this happen? And how? Grandmother always regarded Ahmose as sweet but rather stupid, and Ahmose himself chafed under what he saw as her domineering ways. I have lost my place in her esteem. I have been demoted. Jealousy surged up in him and just as quickly vanished. I am not a part of the fabric of this family or this place any more, he told himself sadly. I am a Tao, I rule this nome, but the boy, the young man I was, no longer exists. It is as if he died and I, this imitation Kamose, have come from somewhere far away to replace him. It is not simply that war has changed me. It has changed me, but I think I have been moving towards this moment since the day Si-Amun killed himself. I love them all, my royal kin, but I can never stand among them again.

He came to himself to realize that conversation had ceased and they were both staring at him inquiringly. “I’m sorry,” he said with an effort. “What did you say?”

“Grandmother asked you what plans you have for next season,” Ahmose explained. “After the thanksgiving and celebrations we must endure the Inundation but what then, Kamose?” Kamose had been so far sunk in his own reflections that he did not know whether they had discussed Hor-Aha’s request on behalf of the Medjay. He broached it hesitantly. In spite of the wine he had drunk he was coldly sober and his throat was still dry.

“Wawat is being threatened by the Kushites,” he said, pulling his thoughts together. “Hor-Aha wants us to take a punitive force south on their behalf. It might be a good idea.” Immediately Tetisheri bristled.

“Why?” she demanded. “Let the savages sort out their own problems. We cannot afford to draw the Kushites’ attention to us. We cannot open a new battle front to the south and thus dissipate our divisions.”

“You do not feel that we owe a debt to Hor-Aha?” he suggested wryly. “That if we do not aid the Medjay, they will desert us or worse?”

“Hor-Aha has been well rewarded for his loyalty to this house by his promotion to General and then by a princely title and the promise of a nome to govern in the Delta,” she retorted. “That was a very foolish move, Kamose. It will ultimately antagonize every Egyptian noble.”

“Hor-Aha’s mother was an Egyptian,” Kamose reminded her, “and he regards himself as Egyptian, notwithstanding his colour. As for a Medjay revolt, I do not fear it. They are more likely to simply disappear if they are disaffected.” He straightened his legs and getting up from the floor he poured himself more wine, then took the chair Aahmes-nefertari had vacated. “No,” he went on. “There are better reasons for leading a punitive expedition into Wawat and rescuing the Medjay’s families from their nasty neighbours.”

“Teti-En,” she said at once. It was a statement, not a question. Kamose nodded.

“He is one. You know of the messenger who was intercepted near the oasis. He was carrying a plea for assistance from Apepa to Teti the Handsome. Obviously that request did not get through, but if Teti-En does indeed regard himself as Apepa’s ally, we cannot discount an attack from the south at some time. He must be aware of what has been happening in Egypt.”

“But surely that very awareness will keep him quiet,” Ahmose objected. “We have talked about this before, Kamose. Teti-En might have been able to make a small incursion into Egypt, perhaps even capture Weset. He would have had to subdue Wawat first but he might have managed it. It is too late for him now that we hold the whole country but for one city and its environs. Defeat would be certain for him.”

“All the same I do not like a threat, no matter how small, at my back,” Kamose said. “But there is an even better reason why I have decided to aid the Medjay.” His cup was empty again, although he did not remember drinking. “I am going to claim the gold routes. We need gold and plenty of it, for the gods, for ourselves if I am to be crowned King, to pay the Princes and rebuild Egypt. We know nothing of the forts our ancestors built to safeguard the gold sources, whether they still stand, whether the tribesmen have taken them. The Setiu have cared nothing for them because they and the gold have straddled both Teti-En’s territory and Wawat and Teti-En has a treaty with the Setiu. I will take them back.”

“So it seems that you have made up your mind,” Tetisheri said. “The Princes will not like it. They will want to siege Het-Uart yet again next winter.” Ahmose shot her a warning glance that Kamose did not miss.

“The Princes cannot see farther than their own aristocratic noses!” he exploded. “They will do as they are told or suffer my extreme displeasure! I hold almost all of Egypt and yet they are still looking over their shoulders, afraid that they will wake up one morning to find that Apepa has somehow magically taken it all back! They are cowardly mice terrified of the snake!”

“Alienate them and we could still lose everything,” Ahmose warned at once. “There is a fine balance between keeping them reassured and making them do what you want, Kamose.” Kamose, his anger evaporating, only grunted. Tetisheri pushed herself out of the chair.

“Go to bed, both of you,” she said. “I am tired now. You will go to the temple tomorrow, Kamose, and arrange the thanksgiving?”

“Yes.” He and Ahmose had also risen and were at the door. “Sleep well, Grandmother.” She waved them away and the door closed softly behind them.

The guard in the passage saluted them as they walked side by side towards their own quarters. “You have come to an agreement with Tetisheri,” Kamose remarked as they paused outside Ahmose’s rooms before parting. Ahmose smiled.

“I suppose you could call it that,” he said. “It is certainly more than a truce. Last time we were home I was brave enough to march into her den and demand recognition. She took it well. I think she even learned some respect for me because I stood up for myself. It has taken me a long time to grow up.” He shrugged and gave Kamose a shrewd look. “However, you need not fear that you have lost her greater affection,” he finished. “I will always be on trial to her, proving myself without hope of a final verdict.” His words made Kamose feel petty. He returned his brother’s smile and left him.

He entered his own quarters and stood for a while absorbing the familiarity. It had been many months since he had lain on that couch, sat in that chair, watched his body servant raise the hanging on that small window. He had longed to be here, indeed, in his imagination he had often closed his door and turned to face the things that spoke to him of his true identity and in whose mute embrace he would be able to think of Tani, even cry for her. Now that his comforting fantasy had become reality, the invitation was there but his willingness to answer it was not. I am not ready, he told himself resignedly. I will sleep in my cabin on the boat. Taking up his headrest and a blanket, he blew out the lamp Akhtoy had left burning for him and left the house, intending to make his way to the watersteps, but somehow his feet found the narrow, uneven little track leading to the break in the crumbling wall surrounding the old palace and so to the ancient pillars marking the entrance to the reception hall. Behek materialized from somewhere close by and padded after him.

The thick darkness within reached out to enfold him but he was not afraid of it, nor of the rubble and treacherous cavities that waited to wrench ankles or even break bones. The delineaments of the vast rooms held no secrets for him. He whispered a reverent greeting to the ghosts thronging the majestic spaces as he passed through and then climbed up the dusty stairs to come out at last on the roof. Scuffing aside the small loose stones, he folded the blanket, laid it down, and eased himself onto it. His neck relaxed onto the headrest as Behek stretched out beside him. For a long time he lay gazing up at the stars pricking silver in the immensity of blackness above him. Slowly his mind emptied. The peace he knew he could find nowhere else but here in this melancholy ruin began to steal over him and at last he sighed, closed his eyes, and slept.

As soon as the dream began, he knew what it was, and although he was asleep his conscious self quickened in joyful anticipation. He found that he was standing in the spot where he had believed that he was lying, and it was a bright, hot summer morning. Beyond the lip of the palace roof the tips of palm trees swayed in the gusty wind and he was able to catch glimpses of the river, its surface glittering in the sun. But it was not the view that delighted him. A strong impulse was causing him to turn towards where Amun’s temple lay. He knew, somewhere in his dreaming mind, that he should not be able to see the canal leading to the paving before the outer court but his eyes found it quite easily. He waited, scarcely breathing.

She came out from the thin shadow of the pylon and began to walk along the edge of the god’s waterway. Her head was down. In one hand she held a bow and an arrow, both flashing with the sheen of gold, and in the other a tall spear of silver tipped in gold. Her garb was military: a short, coarse linen kilt, wide leather belt, leather sandals and a leather cap hiding her hair. Last time I saw her she was also carrying weapons, Kamose thought breathlessly, but they were mine and she was walking away from me. This time she comes towards me. If she looks up, I will be able to see her face! He ran to the edge of the roof and peered down, heart pounding, everything in him tensed on the vision that had now reached the river path and had turned in his direction. Clenching his fists, he willed her to lift her head, but she continued to give him nothing more than the top of her helmet and her long, exquisitely fashioned body as she strode through dappled sunlight.

She was almost abreast of him now and he became aware of a box lying in the dust beside the track, its lid thrown back to reveal the contents. For one awestruck moment he forgot the woman, for within it, on its bed of padded damask, lay the Royal Regalia. Light moved slowly over the curves of the white and red Double Crown and sparked off the gold, lapis and jasper of the Crook and the Flail resting to either side. As he stared at it almost tranced, two sandalled feet entered his vision. The woman had come to a halt. She is going to pick up the box, Kamose thought excitedly. She is going to bring it to me. The woman bent down and placed the weapons carefully and reverently to either side of the box, then she raised her naked arms and bowed low to the holy symbols of Egypt’s Kings. But she did not touch them. Straightening, she turned in through the wide gap in the palace wall where the main gate used to hang and disappeared from Kamose’s sight.