The Oasis (56 page)

“Aahmes-nefertari,” he said gently, “you were right to reprimand me for disregarding your abilities, but do you not think that you are taking this a little too far? You need not prove yourself to me. I trust you fully.” She showed him a flushed face.

“You have not listened,” she protested hotly. “Your captain approves of my involvement. The men expect to see me every day. I enjoy them. Do not imagine that I have immersed myself in their training and welfare because I miss my husband or do not have enough household chores to perform.” She took two hurried steps ahead and then rounded on him, bringing him to an abrupt halt. “I do not ever want to find myself as weak as Tani,” she said in a low voice. “I do not ever want to wake up one morning and find myself incapable of courage, drained of assertion or unable to make an act of the will because I have allowed childbearing and the gentle arts of womanhood to soothe me into an inappropriate submission. I have been close to that danger, Kamose. Yes I have. But no more. Oh please do not forbid me this service!” Kamose refrained from pointing out that it was neither childbearing nor the gentle arts of womanhood that had undone her sister, but a wily and unscrupulous adversary. Her reasons were irrational but perhaps her fear was not. After all, Kamose thought quickly, she has had a powerful example of uncompromising authority in her grandmother.

“Is this why you accosted me today?” he asked her again. “If so, you need not fear. I will speak with my commander and my captains. If they sing your praises honestly, you may continue to work with them on the understanding that the word of my commander is your law. Of the two thousand troops I left here in Weset, only one thousand will remain. I intend to take the rest north with me, together with the Medjay, of course. Will that satisfy your thirst for death and destruction?” For a brief moment the Aahmes-nefertari of his earlier days shone through. Tears had come to her eyes and her lips trembled. Standing on tiptoe, she kissed his cheek.

“Thank you, Majesty,” she said. “No, that is not why I accosted you today, but I am glad the matter is settled.” She resumed her pace and he began to walk also.

For a while there was a companionable silence between them, broken by the measured thud of the Followers’ sandals. Far out on the river a small craft moved slowly by, its triangular sail flapping, its progress marked by the rhythmic tapping of a drum held under the arm of a young boy sitting in the stern. Its wash lapped the sandy bank in glittering waves. Kamose was in no hurry to hear what his sister had to say. In spite of the coming gathering with the Princes he was aware of a spreading contentment. The bounty of his harvest would be arrayed under the waiting canopies in his garden. The wine would be unsealed. Dark beer would be poured to quench his thirst. And tomorrow he would leave Weset once more for the north. He was not sorry to be going, but he knew that he would take with him the healing that had been so mysteriously accomplished in his soul and while he was away the thoughts of his home would be warm and guiltless.

Then Aahmes-nefertari spoke without turning her head. “You should know that there has been trouble between myself and the Princes Intef and Meketra,” she said. “Grandmother, Mother and I had decided that since we were able to contain it we would not bring it to your attention but I have been pondering the matter, Kamose. You will be relying on all the Princes during the coming siege. Some more heavily than others.” She drew a deep breath. “If you leaned on a branch that broke, I would feel responsible. It was not a large storm,” she said hastily. “A puff of desert wind, that is all.”

“You are painting a confusing picture,” Kamose interrupted impatiently. “We are nearly at the watersteps and I am hungry.” He spoke more harshly than he had intended out of a sudden foreboding, and she apologized at once.

“I am sorry,” she blurted. “It is this. Intef and Meketra came to the parade ground one morning. I think they were taken aback to see me there. They wanted to add their soldiers to yours, mingle the troops and assume command of the men themselves. Of course they would have had authority over a mere commander and a few captains, and if no one in the house had cared to make sure that the officers were being diligent while you were away, they could have drilled the men as they wished. Their arguments were logical, Kamose. Let us foster co-operation between the fighters of our nomes. Let the soldiers befriend one another to maintain solidity in battle.” Now she looked across at him. The tears had gone and the mouth no longer quivered. It was set in a grim line. “Meketra even complained that as he had been left behind to put Khemmenu to rights he had been denied practice in the field and needed the experience of a varied command. I watched your officers as he and Intef were speaking to me. They were afraid that I would allow them to be placed under the Princes’ control. I could see no harm in it. After all, the drills and mock battles were simply to keep the troops alert and occupied and why should the soldiers the Princes brought with them be idle? But Intef’s insistence that the two of them be placed in authority instead of your commander seemed too urgent. There was something about the whole situation that I did not like. So I refused.” She laughed shortly. “They pressed me as far as they dared. I could see the contempt in their eyes before they bowed and withdrew. They had their retainers set up targets and they drew bows until I left the reviewing dais. It was like a challenge.” Kamose felt his throat go dry. I am not angry, he thought. Why? The answer came at once. Because anger will only serve to blind me to something I need to be coldly sober in order to examine. “I went to the officers’ quarters that evening,” Aahmes-nefertari was saying. “They told me that they had been invited several times to drink with the officers who came with the Princes and our own soldiers have been receiving gifts from the men in the Princes’ ranks. I do not know what it means, Kamose. Perhaps it is simply the comradeship of a serving army, but I do not think so. Neither did Grandmother and Mother when I told them. Am I being foolish? We have all lived with uneasiness for so long.”

They had reached the watersteps and were crossing the stone paving. Glancing to his left along the path to the house, Kamose caught a glimpse of the crowd beyond the thickly leaved trellis and the gleam of sunlight on white canopies. The murmur of many voices came to him clearly. They are waiting for me to arrive so that they can eat, he thought. It is a day of celebration. Six disconcerted Kushites and the nobility of Egypt stood in the temple while I narrated my victories. He touched his sister’s shoulder.

“You did well,” he said evenly. “I am very proud of you, Aahmes-nefertari. Does Ahmose know of this?” She shook her head.

“We had more important things to do last night,” she said a trifle defiantly. “In any case, you are the King. My duty was to tell you first.”

“Good. Keep your counsel. I intend to keep mine. Tomorrow I will take them all away, but I will not forget your words. I use them, you know, but I cannot bring myself to like them. What have they done for Egypt in the past but grow fat and complacent on the scraps the Setiu have flung to them?” He could feel the rage beginning to curdle inside, acrid and despairing. “I will certainly warn Ahmose and Hor-Aha, but I do not want to confront Intef and Meketra over something that may mean nothing,” he finished with a struggle against the irrational tide of betrayal and offence sweeping through him. “They have grumbled, but so far they have been obedient and trustworthy. I still need them. Let us go and break our fast.” And that is the source of the real wound, he admitted to himself as together they passed under the dense curtain of the vine-hung trellis and out again into the sun. I need them, need them desperately, but they do not need me.

He ate and drank, smiled and conversed, received the obeisances and congratulations of the cheerful assembly, while striving to quell his anger and put what his sister had told him into a sane perspective. He had no intention of voicing his displeasure to the Princes, much less his nebulous suspicions regarding their loyalty. To do so would only raise their indignation, perhaps justly. Yet Aahmes-nefertari, as well as the other women, had been alarmed out of all proportion to the event and he himself was left with a tiny but definite pulse of warning when his ire was finally dispelled.

Drowsy and satiated, the guests finally scattered to their couches for the afternoon rest and Kamose also retired to his rooms but he did not attempt to sleep. Sitting in his chair, he went over in his mind what he intended to say to the Princes, what plans he had for this, his third campaigning season. They were few and simple. Egypt was his up to the Delta, therefore he would gather in the army from each nome as he went north, surround Het-Uart, and pull down its walls, brick by brick, if necessary, until the last lesion on the body of his country was healed. He had ascertained that Kush and Teti-En would be no threat. His southern flank was secure. Only Pezedkhu could hamper his drive for complete freedom, and if Pezedkhu ventured forth from the spurious safety of his city, he would be defeated. Kamose discounted Apepa. The struggle would be between himself and the General, straightforward and clean. Apepa’s schemes and wiles belonged to the febrile world of negotiation and as such would be useless to him. Physical weapons and good military strategy were all that remained.

In the late afternoon the Princes answered his summons. Kamose, sitting with his brother Ramose and Hor-Aha, watched them file into the room with a cool detachment. Bowing to him, they answered his invitation to be seated. Refreshments had been provided by Akhtoy, but no one made a move towards the dishes and cups. They all look as if they have been drinking for hours, Kamose thought. They are bleary-eyed and sullen. They slump on their chairs like recalcitrant children about to be reprimanded, their hands in their laps, and they will not meet my gaze. Only Ankhmahor smiles at me.

He cleared his throat and rose to his feet. Ipi, cross-legged on the floor beside him, finished smoothing the sheet of papyrus lying on his palette and picked up his pen. “You must serve yourselves if you are hungry or thirsty,” Kamose began. “I do not want us interrupted by the movements of servants. What I have to say to you will not take long. There are no intricate plans for our coming march north unless any of you has conceived a way to pierce Het-Uart’s defences. Meketra, I do not remember having you summoned here from your responsibilities in Khemmenu. Could it be that you have indeed come up with such a plot and wished to share it with me as soon as possible?” Meketra lifted a pale, expressionless face in his direction but his eyes fixed on a spot just below Kamose’s chin.

“No, Majesty,” the man said. “Regrettably I have no such idea. I risked your displeasure in coming to Weset because the harvest around my city was completed and the task of rebuilding continues now without my personal supervision. I was not needed for a time and I wanted to share in your triumph and thanksgiving.”

“I am indeed displeased,” Kamose retorted tartly. “You are needed where I say you are needed, Meketra. A request to join us here should have come first, with reasons why Khemmenu could have been left in the care of your assistant governor.” He wanted to say more, to castigate the man for his base desire to push himself to the forefront as often as possible, but pointing out Meketra’s flaws in public could only fuel the obvious resentment the Prince felt at being excluded from the company of his fellows in Weset. “Am I to assume that your presence here together with an unseemly number of your troops indicates a desire to go north with us this spring?” he enquired. Meketra seemed startled and then embarrassed. Kamose did not wait for a reply. He had no intention of including Meketra in his journey and briskly changed the subject. “Tomorrow at dawn you will assemble your men in marching formation,” he told them. “The Medjay will take the boats as before. I intend to reach Het-Uart as quickly as possible and stay there as long as possible until, if Amun wills it, the city falls to me. There is no necessity for any detours. Do you have any questions?”

It was as though they had been turned into stone. Every mouth remained closed. Every face went blank and every body became suddenly still. “What is wrong with them?” Ahmose whispered, and at the sound of his voice Intef raised his head. Now indeed his eyes met those of Kamose, filling suddenly with such a flush of hatred that Kamose blinked in shock. But when the Prince spoke it was with an unnatural calm.

“Majesty, we do not wish to go north this year,” he said. “We have been conferring with one another and we are not happy. For two years we have followed you. Our children are growing up without us. Our wives are tired of sleeping alone. We have been forced to delegate our authority to our stewards and our nomes are suffering without our guidance. Harvests and sowings, we have been absent. Give us leave to go home.” He waved a deprecating hand. “All Egypt is ours now save a small portion of the Delta. Apepa can do nothing. Let him stew in what juices he has left for another season or two. We are needed elsewhere.”

Kamose had listened to Intef’s speech with a mounting incredulity that quickened his breath and sent the blood singing through his ears. Now he sought the edge of the table for support and leaned on it, scanning the surly features before him. “You do not wish?” he managed. “You are needed elsewhere? What is this nonsense? Have you not just heard the words I spoke to Meketra? You are needed where I say you are needed, not where you imagine you would like to be! And as for Egypt being yours, who do you think you are, you arrogant Princes? Egypt is mine by right of birth and Ma’at! I have broken my heart to take it back for all of us. How dare you!” His voice had risen until he was shouting. He felt Ahmose’s fingers bite into his thigh under the cover of the table top and the pain brought him up short. “I am the King,” he finished more quietly. “I will forget this impudence, Intef, providing you do not question my supremacy again. We meet tomorrow morning. You are all dismissed.” He sat down and pressed his knees together to quell their trembling, but the Princes made no move to leave. They watched him carefully. Then Mesehti spoke up, his weatherbeaten face creasing into lines of resignation.