The Oasis (60 page)

The dawn chorus was now in full spate, a tuneful stridency of bird voices joined, Kamose knew, by the Hymn of Praise even now being sung in the temple. Of course he could not hear it, but he imagined the words and the rich, time-honoured melody with which the priests greeted the birth of Ra. Every morning his rising was sanctified in a burst of gratitude for life, for sanity, for the ordered beauty of Ma’at. Kamose allowed himself a moment of surrender to the scent of the spring flowers beginning to waft to him on the first stirring of the breeze and the grainy kiss of the vine leaves fluttering against his skin. His shadow was beginning to appear on the pebbled path, stretching pale and elongated towards the river. A lizard scuttled over it, tail flicking, its tiny, delicate claws scrabbling inaudibly, and vanished into the unkempt lawn. The light around Kamose flushed suddenly gold and he knew that Ra had lipped the edge of the world.

With a tremor of hope he was beginning to think that Ahmose had indeed decided to stay on the water and hunt ducks, but he heard the sound of oars breaking the water and his brother’s voice, loud and cheerful. Someone answered him. Wood creaked and footsteps thudded. Behek barked. Kamose left the shelter of the trellis and broke into a run.

There were two guards with Ahmose. One had jumped onto a submerged waterstep and was tying up the skiff. The other had already gained the stone paving and was glancing about automatically as he had been trained to do. Ahmose himself was clambering after him, a cluster of silver fish threaded on a string clutched in one hand and his sandals in the other. Gaining dry land, he dropped the sandals and began to manœuvre his feet into them, laughing as he did so. All this Kamose saw and noted with a preternatural clarity. The rim of his brother’s white kilt had become limp and transparent with water and clung to his brown thighs. The fish glinted wetly, their scales reflecting pink and a delicate blue in the new sunlight. A sodden Behek was eyeing them hungrily. Ahmose had a streak of drying mud on his cheek. He was wearing one plain gold bracelet, thin and loose, that fell against his thumb as he reached down to ease the thong of the sandal between his toes. Both guards were beside him now, one going down on one knee to tie Ahmose’s sandals.

Kamose was almost upon them. Then Ahmose looked up and saw him coming. “What are you doing up so early, Kamose?” he called brightly. “Are you taking a swim? See how many fish I caught this morning! I think I will have them fried at once, for I am lamentably hungry!” Lifting the limp bundle he shook it, grinning. Behek’s attention, now diverted from the fish, turned to his master. His ears pricked and he began to bark.

At that moment Kamose felt himself struck in the left side. It was as though he had been punched, and he staggered, pitching forward. Regaining his balance, he thought that he had stumbled on, and it was a few seconds before he realized that he was not moving towards Ahmose after all, that he had stumbled and fallen, that his face was pressed to the gritty surface of the path and power had suddenly gone from his limbs. He tried to push against the ground but his palms simply patted the earth. Why is Ahmose shouting? he wondered irritably. Why doesn’t one of the guards come and help me up? He felt the vibration of pounding feet and with a great effort he managed to turn his head. Two pairs of feet rushed by him. He heard grunting, a curse and a scream.

Then someone touched him, lifting and settling him, and with the movement pain exploded under his armpit, down his side, along his back. Stifling his own scream, he looked up through eyes blurred with tears of agony. He was cradled across his brother’s lap, his neck supported in the crook of Ahmose’s arm, his own fingers clinging to Ahmose’s other hand. “You have been shot, Kamose. What has happened here? What has happened?” Ahmose’s voice cried the words but they came from a far distance for surely he, Kamose, was running and Ahmose was holding up his fish and smiling and it was a bird or perhaps a lizard who had spoken. Kamose could not breathe. There was a lump in his chest. Something was stuck in his throat and when he opened his mouth it slipped out, hot and wet.

“The Princes,” he whispered. “Ahmose, the Princes.”

“Yes, you are right,” he murmured. She. He was mistaken. It was not Ahmose who was holding him it was the woman, and now he knew that he was only dreaming and he would wake to find himself curled up on his floor before his Amun shrine and all would be well.

“Your face,” he said wonderingly. “I see your face at last and it is flawless in its perfection. I love you, love you. I have always loved only you.”

“I know,” she replied. “You have served me with great faithfulness, Kamose Tao, and I love you also. But now it is time for us to part.” Bending down she kissed him softly. Her lips tasted of palm wine and her hair, falling about his face, filled his nostrils with the scent of the lotus. When she withdrew he saw that her mouth and teeth were smeared with blood.

“I do not like this dream,” he faltered. “Hold me tighter. Do not let me slip.” She smiled.

“I will enfold you forever, my dearest brother,” she said quietly. “Your flesh will rest deep within my rock, and as long as the waters of my river flow and the wind of my deserts trouble the sand and the fronds of my palm trees drop their fruit, they will sing your worship. Go now. Go. Ma’at awaits you in the Judgement Hall and I promise that your heart will lie so lightly on the scales that her Feather will weigh heavier than gold.”

“Please …” he choked. “Oh please …” his mouth still tingling with her kiss, but it was Ahmose who loomed above him, his mouth dark red, his features contorted.

“Gods, Kamose, don’t die!” he begged, but Kamose, looking beyond him to where the sky was darkening and a mighty pylon had begun to take shape, could not answer. Things moved within that gloom, a glimmer of sumptuous metal, a glint of light caught by one kohled eye, but between him and the vision a human shadow loomed. He tried to call to his brother, to warn him, but he was too tired. Half-closing his eyes he saw the shadow shrink, its arm come up, the gloved hand brandishing a wooden club, and then he was standing on the threshold of the Judgement Hall and such small details did not matter any more.

17

AAHMES-NEFERTARI
was terrified. As she sped through the dim corridors of the house, she tried not to see the things that huddled in the shadows, the dead things, but sometimes they lay spreadeagled across her path and she was forced to jump over them. In a mad attempt to remain uncontaminated by the carnage she lifted the hem of her sheath so that it would not brush the blood-soaked corpses but she could not always avoid the puddles and soon her feet and ankles were sodden. Somehow that did not matter as much as the possibility of soiled linen, the wetness that she would feel as a weight, the stains that could not be washed away.

At the entrance to the women’s quarters the two guards lay one on top of the other as though they were embracing. With a shudder the girl rushed past them. The passage beyond was blessedly empty and she felt a quick spurt of relief that the stewards, Uni and Kares, always retired for the night to their own rooms in the servants’ lodgings and were probably safe. One torch still burned opposite her mother’s door. Aahmes-nefertari fell into Aahotep’s bedchamber. Her servant rose immediately and Aahotep sat up. “Mother, get dressed at once and come to Grandmother’s rooms,” Aahmes-nefertari said. Not waiting to see if she had been heard she went out, ran the short distance to Tetisheri’s apartments, and let herself in.

Tetisheri had a large anteroom in which she gave audience to guests and to which she retired to read or think whenever she needed privacy. It was a large, well-appointed space, purposely daunting in the formality of its furnishings. Many times Aahmes-nefertari had been summoned here to be reprimanded, to recite her lessons, or to receive lectures on how a Princess ought to think and behave. Here her grandmother kept a firm thumb on the organization of the house and here in past months the three women had gathered to discuss the responsibilities Kamose had laid upon them. Those consultations had done much to dispel the inner shrinking Aahmes-nefertari had always felt when the door had swung open to admit her but even now, in a moment of extreme urgency, she experienced a flutter of purely adolescent apprehension. It soon vanished, however, when Isis left her pallet with a polite indignation written on her sleepy face. “I did not hear you knock, Highness,” she said. For answer Aahmes-nefertari took up a taper, and lighting it from the one burning lamp she used it to ignite the two larger standing lamps by the far wall.

“Wake my grandmother, tell her I am here, and dress her quickly,” she ordered. “Do not question me, Isis. Just hurry.” The servant disappeared through the door leading to Tetisheri’s inner sanctuary and Aahmes-nefertari, left alone in the deep silence that precedes the dawn, began to shiver. Her feet had left dark brown prints across the spotless floor. Looking down at herself she saw the drying blood encrusted between her toes and girdling her ankles like grotesque jewellery. Repulsed she glanced about for water, but then she paused. They died because of their loyalty, she thought. Their blood does not sully me. To wash it away too soon would be insulting to their sacrifice.

There were sounds outside in the passage and her heart leaped into her throat but it was only her mother. Aahotep was tying a belt around the waist of her blue sheath as she came. Her movements were as measured and graceful as ever but her eyes darted anxiously over her daughter, coming to rest on the girl’s besmirched feet. “That is blood!” she said loudly. “Is it from you? Are you ill? Where are the children? Where is Kamose? Is he here? You have made a mess of the floor, Aahmes-nefertari. You should be washed at once.” Aahmes-nefertari did not respond. Her mother would assimilate the shock in a moment, she knew, and indeed Aahotep’s clouded face was already clearing. “Gods,” she breathed. “What has happened?” Just then Tetisheri emerged into the lamplight, her grey hair awry, her expression fierce.

“I was dreaming of fresh figs and a ring I lost many years ago,” she said. “There may be some connection between the two but now I shall never know. What are you doing here?” She stared at her granddaughter’s feet for what seemed to be a long time, then she slowly folded her arms. To Aahmes-nefertari the gesture was one of self-protection. “Are you hurt?” she asked. The girl shook her head. “Then speak quickly. Isis, close the door.”

“No!” Aahmes-nefertari put out a hand. “No, Grandmother. We need to hear if someone is coming. There has been a revolt, how serious we do not know. All the Followers in the house are dead. Kamose sent Raa out into the desert with the children. He has gone to the watersteps to waylay Ahmose when he returns from fishing. Oh thank the gods he went fishing!” Her voice rose, quivering, and she fought to control it. “Kamose told me to stay here with you. We think it is the Princes.”

“How can that be?” Tetisheri demanded. “Intef, Meketra and Iasen are in prison.”

“Someone must have let them out,” Aahotep said. “Nefer-Sakharu perhaps.”

“Simontu and his jailers would never be overpowered by a woman alone,” Aahmes-nefertari objected, “and Nefer-Sakharu does not have the authority to order the cells unlocked. Their officers and soldiers have attacked the prison and freed them.”

“Then where are they?” Aahotep wondered, and Aahmes-nefertari answered her with a mouth gone suddenly dry.

“They are at the barracks taking command of our troops,” she rasped. “They must establish control of our men before we can intervene and that may not be as difficult as we might suppose, seeing that their soldiers have been mingling freely with ours and the officers of the Princes have been giving gifts and regaling our soldiers with feasts. Our forces are superior to the ones they brought with them, but our officers will feel a certain confusion of obligation if faced with direct orders from nobles who have been more than kind to them. I believe that the Princes sent a small contingent here to the house to kill Kamose and Ahmose while they themselves gathered their soldiers and took over the barracks. But Amun decreed that my brothers should be spared.” Tetisheri was running a bony hand through her dishevelled hair. She had begun to pace. She seemed calm but Aahmes-nefertari saw her arm trembling.

“For how long?” she said loudly. “The Followers are dead. Ahmose will arrive at the watersteps all unsuspecting, provided that soldiers were not despatched to ambush him on his way home, in which case he is already dead. Kamose is completely undefended. What of Ramose and Ankhmahor? Can we get word to Hor-Aha and the Medjay on the west bank?”

“I don’t know,” Aahmes-nefertari admitted, and Aahotep gave an exclamation of frustration.

“Isis, go and see if the Lady Nefer-Sakharu is still on her couch,” she ordered. “But go quietly. If she is there, do not wake her.”

“Majesty, I am scared,” the servant said, glancing at her mistress. Tetisheri waved at her.

“It is not far, only along the passage,” she retorted. “Hurry up!” Unwillingly the woman left the room and there was a tense silence.

“If what we have surmised is true, Kamose is entirely alone,” Aahotep said at last. “There is no one to help him. No one to save him or Ahmose. I cannot believe that everything he has done has come to this!” she burst out passionately. “Nothing but heartache and betrayal year after year and for what? We might as well have gone meekly to the fate Apepa had prepared for us in the first place. I cannot bear the thought that he will win after all!”