The Oasis (55 page)

They had reached the portico of the house. Turning, Kamose signalled to Hor-Aha, far back in the chattering throng. “Take the Medjay across the river and settle them down,” he said when the man had come up and bowed. “Then leave your second to deal with them. I need you here. Put the Kushites in the prison. Tell Simontu to treat them kindly.” He swung to his herald. “Khabekhnet, go to the temple and tell the High Priest that I am anxious to view my stelae and perform a thanksgiving to Amun for a successful foray into Wawat. I will come tomorrow morning.” He turned back to Tetisheri. “Tonight we will feast and I will address the Princes,” he told her. “But now I wish to bathe, break my fast, and tour the barracks.” He grinned wryly. “It seems that I must take my sister with me so that I may become acquainted with the progress our men have made,” he remarked. Tetisheri regarded him shrewdly.

“She has changed,” she said. Kamose nodded.

“So it seems.” He reached out for his mother standing patiently behind him. “Sit with me when I return from the bath house, Aahotep,” he requested. “I want to talk to you.”

Bathed and freshly painted, he ate under his canopy beside the pool and presently Aahotep joined him, folding easily and gracefully onto the cushions beside him, fly whisk in hand. Kamose thought how well she looked. Her burnished skin gleamed. The full mouth, orange with henna, revealed the glint of white teeth as she smiled a greeting and the tiny lines around her eyes, partially camouflaged by the black kohl, served only to emphasize their dark, mature beauty. “You should marry again,” he said impulsively. Her smile widened in surprise.

“For what purpose?” she asked. “And to whom?” He laughed.

“Forgive me, Mother. A fleeting reflection reached my tongue before it vanished. Would you like wine? A pastry?” She shook her head. “Then give me your opinion of the reports Tetisheri has been receiving from the Princes over the last five months. I presume that you read them. And tell me of Aahmes-nefertari.” The fly whisk began to move to and fro, too slowly for the horsehair to ruffle the warm air.

“The reports have been formal, dutiful and entirely blameless in their wording,” she said meditatively, “yet both Tetisheri and I found them disturbing, why we could not say. We could not fathom exactly what it was about them that rang false.” She raised her eyes to his. “You must read them yourself, Kamose. Perhaps we have lived with treachery and betrayal too long and are starting at shadows that do not exist. I do not know. We feel the same polite distance from them in person since they have been here. They are not lacking in respect, but there is something not quite right behind their fine manners, something cold. Even calculating?” The whisk fell into her lap and she stroked it absently. “They remind me of Mersu.”

A silence grew between them and in it Kamose saw the closed, enigmatic face of his grandmother’s steward whose bland obedience had hidden a murderous hatred. He sipped his wine pensively. “They are arrogant and often argumentative,” he said, “but they know what I have done for them, for Egypt. I have abolished the fear that at any time their birthright might be removed from them. I have rewarded their faithfulness with gold. I will do more for them once Het-Uart is cleansed. They know all this. Yet I do not discount your impressions. Now what of my sister?”

Aahotep’s fingers fluttered in bewilderment. “She speaks often of Tani. Not with anger any more but with a kind of terse dismissal and it is as though the knowledge of Tani’s betrayal feeds a new energy within her. She goes about her household duties with the same attention and concern but she despatches them quickly, very efficiently, and then spends her time with the soldiers. No,” she said emphatically with a sharp gesture, “it is nothing lewd, nothing morally reprehensible. There is not the slightest suggestion of that. She sheds her jewels, puts on sturdy sandals, and goes to stand on the reviewing dais while the men parade and fight their mock battles. She talks to the officers.”

“But why?” Kamose did not know whether to laugh or be annoyed at the vision of Aahmes-nefertari, delicate and fastidious, engulfed in clouds of dust while the troops wheeled and the captains shouted. “She must not make herself look ridiculous, Mother. It will be very bad if the common men think they can regard royal women with familiarity.”

“They like her,” Aahotep replied. “They drill more smartly when she is there. I went with her several times, seeing that I could not divert her by argument.” She smiled ruefully. “She has developed a most unfortunate stubborn streak. The men salute her, Kamose. She calls to them, jokes with them. I think she began it because she wanted to prove to you that your trust was not misplaced but she discovered an enjoyment in it. If she were male, she might make a good commander.” Now Kamose did laugh.

“Ahmose has returned to a wife he does not know,” he chuckled. “That should add some spice to their reunion.” Becoming aware that they were no longer alone, he turned to see Ankhmahor, Hor-Aha and Ramose waiting for him a polite distance away. He sighed and made as if to rise, but Aahotep put a restraining hand on his wrist.

“I know you have much to attend to,” she said. “But there is one other thing. It may be nothing, but …” She bit her lip. “Nefer-Sakharu has been going among the Princes constantly since they arrived, entertaining them in her quarters, sitting among them at meals, taking her litter into Weset with those who wanted to divert themselves in the town. I know she is lonely. It has all been very frivolous and probably harmless. I had no excuse to try to prevent it and I could not very well confine her to her rooms out of spite.” She met his eye. “I was ready to, several times, but after all she has done nothing wrong unless one can call ingratitude and dislike an offence.” Kamose lifted her soft hand and kissed her fingers as he rose.

“I should have sent Ahmose down south and stayed here myself,” he said heavily. “Although it is doubtful how I might have done more than the three of you. I must go. I will see you this evening.” He walked towards his men in a sober frame of mind.

The Princes and their personal retinues were all present in the reception hall that night. Kamose, his sharp gaze travelling the wigged and gold-spangled heads, suddenly saw a tall, rather stooped form lean back and hold up a winecup to be filled. “What is Meketra doing here?” he said quietly to his mother. “I gave him no command to join my army!” Aahotep, tearing apart a piece of chickpea bread beside him, paused and glanced out over the company.

“He arrived with Intef,” she said. “He has been boring me with all the wonderful restorations he has personally sanctioned in Khemmenu. One would think he had trodden the mud and straw himself. I am sorry, Kamose. I did not know that he had no permission to leave his city. He spoke as though he had received a direct invitation from you.”

Kamose watched him thoughtfully. He and the other nobles appeared to be in high spirits, trading sallies and witticisms with each other, drinking plenty of wine and tossing the abundant spring blooms that lay on their small tables at the servants, but their behaviour seemed to him to have an unpleasant undercurrent of impudence about it as though they were using their very exuberance to shut him and his family out.

After reverencing him as he entered the hall, they had ventured him no further attention, answering him when he spoke to them but otherwise conversing among themselves. “They have been like this almost every night,” Tetisheri had muttered in his ear. “Getting drunk and bothering the staff like a crowd of undisciplined children. The hotheads! I will be more than glad to see you take them all north, Kamose. A few forced marches will dampen their enthusiasm for nonsense.” But Kamose decided, surveying them carefully, that there was nothing hotheaded about their noisy behaviour. Rather, their loud cacophony had an undercurrent of coldness to it, almost of calculation. The women are right to be uneasy, he told himself. Something is wrong here.

Later he rose and addressed them, recounting all that he had done in Wawat and warning them that on the following day they were expected to attend the thanksgiving in the temple and the dedication of his stelae and the day after that they would be leaving to resume their war against Apepa. They listened politely, their painted faces turned up to him, but their hands and bodies were restless. “Tomorrow afternoon we will counsel together in my father’s office,” he ordered them crisply. “Tybi is advancing. I want to be outside Het-Uart by the beginning of Mekhir.”

He wanted to shout at them, break through the invisible but keenly felt circle they had drawn around themselves, berate them for flooding his domain with unnecessary soldiers, but he sensed that such a display of anger would put him at a disadvantage. Why do I feel as though they are lions waiting for me to break and run? he wondered anxiously as he regained his cushions and waved at the musicians to continue playing. I must ask Ahmose if he shares these imaginings.

But he was unable to speak with his brother that night. Ahmose had retired early and was closeted with his wife, and Kamose did not have the heart to disturb them. Taking Ramose and Ankhmahor, he made a slow circuit of the house, all three men silently absorbed in the cool beauty of the moon-washed gardens. They parted, Ankhmahor to check on the Followers taking the watch and Ramose to his couch where, Kamose mused, the enticing Senehat was doubtless waiting. Yet he did not feel deserted. With his arouras to himself he wandered under the trees, circled the moonlit silver of the pool, and finally took the passage to his own quarters. His sleep was deep and untroubled.

In the morning the house and grounds emptied and the temple filled as Kamose once more prostrated himself before his god in thanksgiving for his success in Wawat. His stelae had been erected, two sturdy blocks of granite almost as tall as he, their surfaces incised with the chronicles of his campaigns. Standing before them, he read their message aloud himself in proud tones that rang throughout the sacred precincts. Under the words he called out, those listening heard other truths. This is what I, Kamose Tao, have done. I have lifted shame from the shoulders of my family. I have avenged my father’s honour. I have proved myself worthy of the blood of my royal ancestors.

When he had finished, he turned to the six Kushites who had been brought into the temple and who now stood awed and awkward between their guards, their black eyes shifting rapidly among the press of sumptuously arrayed worshippers. “I have seized your land,” he said to them slowly and deliberately. “That knowledge will be carved into my stela so that all who come here may read it. Look around you. You have had an opportunity to assess the might and majesty of Egypt. You see how any further attempt to invade Wawat will be met with all the hostile power of this country. Go home and tell your tribesmen that to those who merit it Egypt is merciful and just but retribution will be swift to those who try to threaten her. You are free. My soldiers will give you food and send you on your way.”

As the crowd was flowing out of the temple on a cloud of incense and the last strains of the holy singers, Kamose found his sister beside him. She had come up behind the Followers and at a word they had let her through. “Ahmose has gone ahead with Mother,” she said. “I wanted to speak to you before your meeting with the Princes this afternoon, Kamose.”

“I had intended to talk to you before I left Weset in any event,” he answered her. “There is not much time for anything. Have you been able to establish spies in Het-Uart?”

“We have begun to organize something but it is a slow process,” she said. “We have been working through Paheri and Kay Abana in the north while the navy has been idle. They must find inhabitants of the city who can be trusted. You are not loved in the Delta, Kamose. You destroyed too much.” They had been approaching their litters. The bearers sprang up but Kamose waved them away.

“We will walk,” he shouted. “So you do not yet have any useful information for me,” he said as he dropped his tone. “It was too much to hope that some obliging citizen of Het-Uart was already eager to open the city gates. Keep working at it, Aahmes-nefertari. Eventually the greed of the Setiu will win out. After all, making a profit is what they do best.” His tone was light and the girl laughed. “I hear that you have joined the army,” he went on. “Do you want me to make you an officer?” This time she did not respond to his humour.

“You could do worse,” she said soberly. “It is the army I need to talk to you about, or rather, our local troops. Mother has obviously told you that I have taken a very great interest in their activities while you were away.” She glanced up at him and then down to where her sandalled feet were leaving soft impressions in the dirt of the path. “It began because I thought that Ahmose-onkh might be amused for a while if I took him out to the parade ground by the barracks. Raa has been very occupied with Hent-ta-Hent. So I asked the commander’s permission to sit on the dais with Ahmose-onkh and watch what went on. Of course the little brat became bored before too long and wriggled and whined but I was fascinated.” She put up a hand to push one wind-whipped braid of her wig away from her mouth. “I talked to the Scribe of Assemblage, the Scribe of Recruits, the local officers. I know what the men eat and how much. I know how many pairs of sandals need mending every month. I know how many arrows get broken during archery practice. And I can sharpen a sword.” She looked across at him hesitantly as though he might laugh at her, but what she saw seemed to reassure her. “I have been inventing mock battles for them to fight,” she told him almost in a whisper, “but I am not very good at strategy, having had no experience in the field. I divide up the men and put some of them behind rocks or on top of hills, that sort of thing. I like it all very much, Kamose.” He did not know how to respond, so great was his astonishment. “I requested permission from the captain of the household guards to draw up a plan whereby the men who have been responsible for our safety might spend some time out on the desert with the other troops and so refresh their skills, and be replaced in rotation with some of the soldiers who are very competent but have not had the privilege of guarding us. He allowed me to do this. It is working well.” Kamose allowed himself a private grimace.