The Oasis (7 page)

At last the throng parted and Kamose felt his brother tense beside him. The mayor of Dashlut was approaching, the confidence of his stride belied by the expression of alarm on his face. He was accompanied by two distinctly apprehensive officials. They came to a halt near the foot of Kamose’s ramp and stood for a moment irresolute. Kamose continued to wait. The mayor inhaled visibly. “I am Setnub, mayor of Dashlut,” he called. “Who are you and what is this force? Do you come from the Delta?”

“You are addressing King Kamose the First, Beloved of Amun,” Kamose’s herald called back. “Prostrate yourselves.” A sigh of mirth passed through the listening crowd and the mayor smiled.

“I believe I am honoured to be speaking to the Prince of Weset,” he said, bowing. “Forgive me, but is the King not on his throne in Het-Uart? What passes here?” Kamose stepped forward and looked down.

“He will not be on the throne much longer,” he said smoothly. “I am reclaiming my birthright, Setnub, Mayor of Dashlut, and I demand the surrender of this town in the name of Amun.” One of the men beside Setnub began to laugh and an answering chorus broke out behind him. The townspeople swayed.

“Highness, you are in the Mahtech nome,” the mayor responded promptly. “The governor of this nome is Teti of Khemmenu and his overlord is His Majesty Awoserra Apepa Living-for-Ever. What you are asking makes no sense.”

“He has fallen under the special protection of the gods,” the other official murmured, and Kamose heard him.

“No, I am not insane,” he rebuked the man. “I have five hundred bowmen present and four divisions of foot soldiers marching towards Dashlut to give weight to the clarity of my sanity. Setnub, I ask you once again, will you surrender Dashlut or take the consequences?” The mayor flushed angrily.

“You are a Prince, Highness, and I am nothing but an administrator,” he said. “I cannot assume such a responsibility. You must either go home to Weset or sail on and put your request to our governor.” The combination of condescension and bluster in his voice caused a wave of muttered indignation among the Followers, but Kamose was unperturbed.

“These are harrowing times, Setnub,” he replied evenly. “A man may be compelled to assume many decisions beyond the scope of his authority or ability. This is such a moment. Surrender or be destroyed.” The mayor glanced towards the garrison which had disgorged a group of men who were clutching various weapons and looking about with a confusion that was rapidly becoming vigilance.

“Surrender?” the mayor shouted. “You have indeed lost your wits! I would be the laughing stock of every town administrator in Egypt! I would lose my position and perhaps even my freedom!”

“Would you rather lose your freedom or your life?” Kamose said quietly. The mayor whitened.

“Ridiculous,” he spluttered. “Remember Qes, Prince Kamose, and go home!”

He does not understand, Kamose thought. He sees but does not see my soldiers. They do not belong to the reality of Dashlut on a warm and sunny morning, therefore they do not exist. Deliberately he held out a hand and the captain of the Followers laid an arrow on his palm. “Kamose …” Ahmose whispered but Kamose ignored him. Calmly he fitted the arrow to his bow, lifted the weapon, adjusted his stance, and sighted past his gloved hand to the centre of the mayor’s heaving chest. In the name of Amun and for the glory of Ma’at, he breathed and released the arrow, watching it plough deep into the man’s breast, seeing his eyes open wide in shock and disbelief before the body slumped to the ground.

“Now, Hor-Aha!” Kamose shouted. “But no women or children!”

He was answered by a triumphant roar from the throats of the Medjay. At the General’s signal the air was suddenly thick with missiles and the townspeople unfroze. They had seen their mayor go down in a stunned surprise that lasted until Kamose’s voice rang out. Now they scattered, screaming in terror, snatching up their children and fighting to escape. Kamose noted with satisfaction that the Medjay’s first volley had been directed at the garrison whose soldiers, to their credit, were trying to take cover and shoot back. But their arrows sank harmlessly into the reed sides of the boats or soared overhead to pierce the Nile, so great was their surprise, and soon they too turned and ran. Kamose nodded across at Hor-Aha who raised an arm and barked a command. The men began to swarm from the boats, some leaving their bows and drawing their axes, some fanning out to encircle the town. After that first mighty upsurge of sound they had fallen silent, a tide of black death moving swiftly and with a chilling efficiency through Dashlut while its inhabitants shrieked and wailed.

Kamose watched. For a while the dusty expanse between the river and the collection of houses was deserted but for the sprawled bodies of the mayor and his hapless companions, while out of sight, in the narrow alleys, behind the mud walls, beyond the town where the fields spread out, the slaughter went on. But before long it was as though the houses, the palms, and the boats themselves formed the outer limits of some strange theatre. The space between began to fill with children who ran to and fro in a mad parody of play before cowering against the walls or kneeling, sobbing, with their faces hidden in the dirt as though by shutting out the hysterical clamour around them they could make it go away. Women emerged from the early shadows, some dazedly pacing, some running uselessly from one group of children to another, some wailing as they staggered about laden with objects they had snatched up instinctively from their homes and clutched to themselves as though the familiar touch of pots and linens could defend them.

One woman came stumbling to the foot of Kamose’s ramp and stood looking up at him, tears running down her cheeks, her bare arms glistening red with blood that was obviously not her own. Grasping the neck of her coarse shift in both hands, she struggled to tear it, her breath coming in great gasps. “Why?” she screamed. “Why, why?”

Ahmose groaned.

“I cannot bear this,” he muttered. “I will sit in the cabin until it is over.” He turned away. The Followers around Kamose stood silent and the woman too eventually closed her mouth. Shaking a soiled and trembling fist she wandered to the nearest tree and flung herself down, curling in on herself and crying. Kamose crooked a finger at the captain of his bodyguard.

“Tell General Hor-Aha to have the bodies collected here and burned,” he ordered. “I want a great plume of smoke to go up. I want the stench to sting Apepa’s nostrils even as the sound of my father’s hippopotamuses offended his ears.” He did not trust himself to speak again. The man saluted and strode towards the ramp and Kamose entered the cabin. Ahmose was sitting on one of the camp stools, his arms folded and his shoulders hunched.

“The garrison would have been mostly Setiu,” he said. “Though I don’t suppose they think of themselves as foreigners any more. The townsmen …”

Kamose flinched. “Not now, Ahmose! Please!” Turning his back on his brother, he sank to the floor, a sudden tide of anguish breaking over him, and felt the tears come.

All afternoon the dead were dragged to the edge of the river, and when no more were to be found, Kamose sent Akhtoy and his servants to herd the women and children into the houses. Then he commanded the fire to be lit and the boats readied for departure. At sunset word came to him from his divisions still marching steadily north, and he decided to wait for them four miles on, halfway between the ruin of Dashlut and the challenge of Khemmenu. Akhtoy, having discharged the distasteful duty Kamose had imposed on him, came back on board to see to his master’s evening meal, but neither Kamose nor Ahmose wanted to eat. They sat together on the deck with a flagon of wine between them as Dashlut slid away from view, the greasy black smoke from the burning bodies coiling upward in a thick column to stain the peacefully darkening sky.

They tied up a little over an hour later and Kamose fell into a sodden slumber, from which he woke with a start to hear the watch changing on the bank. The night was quiet. No wind was stirring and the river reflected placidly the white clarity of the stars as Kamose left the cabin. At once his body servant rose from his mat but Kamose gestured him down, going softly to the ramp and descending it quickly. He answered the guard’s salute and gaining the narrow track that ran beside the water he turned left, instinctively veering away from the faint but still identifiable whiff of kindled flesh, and when the boats with their sleeping cargo were out of sight he waded into the Nile.

The water was cold, making him gasp, but he plunged beneath the surface, pulling towards the bottom and then presently letting himself drift slowly upward until he lay spreadeagled, face down and rocking on his own small swell. When his lungs began to beg for air, he stood, reaching back into the murky depths and bringing up handfuls of sand. Vigorously, almost savagely, he abraded himself, not for a physical cleansing but in an effort to peel the agony of Dashlut from his ka. When his skin was raw and tingling, he regained the bank and, sheltered by some bushes, he stretched out his arms and began to pray. Dashlut is only the first, he said to himself, to his god, and already my ka cries out its danger and its pain. Harden my heart, Great Amun, against the things that I must do so that Egypt may be purified. Let me never forget my father’s sacrifice and let it not be wasted. Forgive me the murder of the innocent, for I dare not try to distinguish the innocent from the tainted for fear of the night that would engulf my country if I should fail.

He did not know how long he stayed there, but dawn was a hint of definition in the shrubs around him and a quick puff of breeze, soon over, touched him as he walked back to the boat. The Medjay were stirring, talking in low voices to one another, and on the bank the first tentative flames of the cooking fires were springing up. Akhtoy met him as he stepped onto the deck. “There is a scroll for you from Weset, Majesty,” the steward said. “Will you eat before you read it?” Kamose nodded. “Also a scout is waiting to see you.”

“Let him come.”

Ahmose greeted him soberly as he entered the cabin and he replied in kind, waiting while his body servant brought hot water and fresh linen. He admitted the scout and heard the news while he was being dressed. Survivors from Dashlut had been spotted during the night making their way north on the edge of the fields, and in another day the army would be here. Kamose thanked him, and when he had gone he turned to Ahmose. “Teti will hear of the sack of Dashlut before noon today,” he said. “That is very good. I hope he trembles in his jewelled sandals.”

“He will send at once to Apepa,” Ahmose remarked. “That is both good and bad. Fear will spread through the towns along the river but Apepa will be forewarned.” Kamose glanced at his sombre face.

“How is it with you, Ahmose?” he queried gently. “How did you sleep?” Ahmose smiled grimly.

“I am nauseated and ashamed,” he said. “But I know that what you told me before is true. We cannot discern friend from foe. I am resigned, Kamose. Yet we will find the way of expiation hard when the time for atonement comes.”

“I know.” They stared at one another in a moment of mutual understanding. Kamose’s body servant lifted the royal pectoral and stood waiting. Kamose took it from him, but instead of setting it about his neck, he laid it on the table. “Not today,” he said. “You can go.” The man bowed himself out and Ahmose held up the scroll.

“It is from Grandmother,” he commented. “It is her seal. I received one from Aahmes-nefertari and I have read it already. They all seem so far away, Kamose. Well.” He sighed. “I will eat on the deck this morning. Join me when you wish.”

Kamose broke the seal and unrolled the scroll. Tetisheri’s scribe had a unique hand. The hieroglyphs were tiny and the words tightly crammed together but surprisingly easy to read. Kamose lowered himself onto the edge of his cot as his grandmother’s voice came back to him, loving and yet crisply acerbic. “To His Majesty King Kamose Tao, greetings. I send you the prayers and adoration of your family, dear Kamose, together with our heartfelt concern for your welfare. I went to inspect the entrails of the bull that died, as I promised you I would, and I found the letter ‘A’ clearly picked out in the fat deposits on its heart. After much deliberation on my part and many prayers to Amun from his High Priest we have decided that the weight of the letter, representing as it does the Great God himself and also the usurper, was too much for the bull to bear. Amun warred with Apepa and the heart gave out. We are all well here. The crops grow apace. My vigilance on the river has brought forth no fruit, so I must presume that Pi-Hathor has chosen to lie quiet for the time being. I have also posted sentries on the edge of the desert. When word reaches us that you have taken Khemmenu, I will call in my soldiers to the perimeter of the estate and rely on scouts for information from the south. Last night I dreamed of your grandfather Osiris Senakhtenra Glorified. ‘I miss you, Tetisheri,’ he said to me, taking my hand in the way he used to. ‘But you cannot join me yet.’ When I woke, I made a sacrifice for him, but I was glad my time has not come. I will not die until Egypt is free. See to it, Kamose.” Her name and titles followed, scrawled in her own hand, and Kamose let the scroll roll shut with a rueful smile. I am seeing to it, Grandmother, he answered her in his mind, but I do not think that I will be the one to drive the Setiu from the Nile. “A” also stands for Ahmose.

He had the scroll delivered to Ipi and joined his brother on the deck. His appetite had returned and he ate and drank his fill, feeling the heat of the sun sink into his bones and affirm his own hold on life. Then he sent for Hor-Aha and heard the General’s report. No Medjay had been wounded in the battle that was in reality nothing more than a massacre. All weapons stored in the garrison had been removed for distribution among the peasant soldiers due to arrive soon. There was no sickness among the archers, but they did not like to eat so much fish. Kamose laughed at that and as he did so the burden of Dashlut lifted a little. “Fish,” Ahmose said hopefully. “I think I will do some fishing this afternoon. I might as well, Kamose. There are no preparations to make for our push to Khemmenu and the scouts are keeping us informed of the progress of the army.”