Pharaoh's Desire (22 page)

Amonmose returned to his chambers agitated. Kama watched him open his large wardrobe and pull out his armor, and a wave of despair washed over her. He was leaving again. Her heart sank into the pit of her stomach as she stood by the window waiting to hear it from his lips.

“Those who are responsible for my father’s death have now threatened my kingdom,” he told her. “If I do not stop them now, they will never be stopped. I must prepare for battle,” he said simply.

They stood staring at each other like two long-lost lovers.

“Why must
you
go?” Kama asked. “Why can’t you send your soldiers and your generals?” Selfish tears welled in her eyes.

Amonmose approached her and tenderly held her face, wiping the tear tracks with his thumbs. “Kama, I love you, and I would do anything to protect you. But, I also love Egypt. As Pharaoh, it is my duty to protect the citizens from harm. I have never asked anyone to do what I am not willing to do myself. Only cowards send other men to fight their battles. I ride beside my soldiers to show them that I have as much at stake as they do. They know we are all fighting for the same purpose. I believe in them, and they believe in me.” He softly stroked her tear-stained cheeks. “I wish
you
could believe in me.”

She looked at him through moist eyes. “I do believe in you.”

“Then believe that we are destined to be together, and upon my return, I shall make you my queen.”

Kama nodded, too choked up to speak.

“I must go,” he insisted. He kissed her, lingering over her bottom lip, and then turned to leave. “And Kama”—he cast her a determined look over his shoulder—“I
will
return for you.”

Chapter Fifteen

Amonmose stood staring stoically at the blackened sky on the shores of Hermopolis. Eyes that had just days before been molten hot with desire, were now hard as stone as he sat deep in thought. He and one thousand of his soldiers had boarded a fleet in hopes of cutting off the Hyksos in Hermopolis. Amonmose’s men were docked in the harbor, waiting quietly.

It was the dead of night. Amonmose would permit his men a few hours of rest, and then they would surprise the enemy before dawn. It had been months since the last skirmish, and many of the men were anxious for some action. When they weren’t fighting, the soldiers were patrolling the city streets of Thebes, guarding the palace walls, farming their lands, and tending to cattle and sheep. Tonight, some of them would die protecting the land they loved.

As Amonmose inspected his armor, Nadesh approached, a familiar blood lust in his eyes. Amonmose shared his sentiments. He would avenge his father’s death and eliminate the threat of the barbarous Hyksos forever.

“Are you certain it’s wise to wear that body armor?” Nadesh asked.

Amonmose smirked. “The Hyksos have some sophisticated weaponry, including scale mail, metal helmets, and daggers. I want to be well-equipped to handle them.”

 
“A man wearing armor will stand out as someone of importance. You’ll be an easy target,” Nadesh countered.

Amonmose pondered the words of his grand vizier.
 
It wasn’t uncommon for warring armies to kidnap and torture leaders. If he were identified as pharaoh, the Hyksos would definitely have an advantage.
 
The capture of his crown by opposing forces would symbolize the complete and total surrender of the Egyptian Pharaoh. He must never allow that.

 
“Perhaps you are right, Nadesh,” he said, patting his shoulder. “I will dispense with the armor this time. Now, let us review our strategy.”

As Amonmose removed his armor, Nadesh confirmed their plan of action. “We will have one hundred chariots, each manned by two soldiers: a driver with a sword and shield and an archer armed with a bow and arrow. We will send fifty chariots from the east and the other fifty from the south. The remaining eight hundred men will be infantry soldiers. We’ll catch the Hyksos’s undisciplined soldiers by surprise. They will be totally unprepared to deal with our men.”

“Good.”

“And I have instructed the men to seize any valuables they can find.”

“Let us not have a repeat of Aswan,” Amonmose said. “Remember who our enemy is. It is not innocent women and children.”

“The soldiers are not to pillage?” Nadesh asked. Collecting booty was the best part of going to battle. Being the victor automatically gave the men rights to plunder. Nadesh had seen some soldiers so entranced by looting that they didn’t even bother pursuing the enemy. But this army was disciplined and only allowed to plunder after certain victory had been achieved.

“I want to make certain everyone remains focused this time.”

Nadesh sneered. “Need I remind you that had it not been for the soldiers pillaging, Kama would have never ended up in your bed?”

“Kama is my responsibility and my business.” Amonmose’s voice was hard. “You need not concern yourself with her.”

“I have known you since birth. I have seen females throw themselves at your feet, and I have watched you run through women like water. You can have any woman you want, and yet you choose this foreigner. What spell has this witch cast upon you?”

Amonmose pierced him with a murderous glare. “It is not wise to speak of your future queen in that tone. Others may overhear, and I will have no choice but to find you guilty of treason.”

The two men stared at each other in silent challenge.

“Pardon me.” Nadesh bowed his head. “I forget myself. It will not happen again.”

Amonmose gave a wary nod of approval to Nadesh’s feigned acquiescence. The man never gave up an argument that easily. For a brief instant, he wondered if Nadesh was still loyal to him, if any of his advisors were. He had not forgotten the snake incident, and he was still uncertain of whom he could trust. But now was not the time. He was at war, and he had to concentrate on the enemy on the battlefield, not the enemy within his own palace.

Chapter Sixteen

Amonmose secured the leather straps of his shield across his bare chest. He had taken Nadesh’s advice and mimicked the uniform of his soldiers: a wear a short, white tunic. Without his crown, he looked like any other charioteer. Amonmose attached his quiver of arrows and took his position at the rear of his chariot. The other man, known as The First Charioteer of his Majesty,
was already in position. He’d driven for Amonmose in previous battles, and the Pharaoh trusted him with his life. Amonmose greeted him like an old friend, shaking his darkly tanned hand.

“Thank you once again for your service and dedication,” Amonmose said. “It is my privilege to have you by my side today.”

The First Charioteer pumped Amonmose’s hand enthusiastically. “It is I who am honored to be by your side, Pharaoh. Your valor outshines my own and makes me proud to drive beside you as we crush our foes together.”

Amonmose smiled. “Are you ready to demolish these bastards?”

The man smiled back grimly as he grabbed the reins that connected his horse to the chariot. “Ready and willing.” He stood poised to spring into action the instant the Pharaoh gave the signal. He clasped his spear tightly in one hand and his reins in the other. He would drive the chariot full force into the enemy while Amonmose shot their adversaries down. To protect them both, a long, rectangular leather shield was attached to one side of the chariot. It had a higher elasticity and would not split like bronze. They would need every advantage against the cunning Hyksos.

Moments later, Amonmose gave the signal. One hundred chariots erupted into motion. Their wheels rolled noisily, the din compounded by the heavy beats of the horses’ hoofs. The Hyksos army awakened to the deafening sound, and they scattered like frightened rats. Disoriented and caught off guard, their soldiers ran for cover, pursued by Egyptian archers showering them with arrows. Amonmose could hear the constant, sharp buzz of arrows speeding through the air.

Hyksos archers were reputed to be just as skilled, but over half of their forces were inexperienced men that had been strong-armed into joining the army. Such soldiers didn’t have the heart or the training for battle, and this unexpected attack had left them ill equipped to deal with the fluid onslaught of the Egyptians.

Amonmose relied on the skill of his driver to maneuver seamlessly among the bewildered Hyksos troops. He knew his charioteer’s style of driving and moved accordingly. He leaned left when the chariot turned right, right when the chariot turned left, and he braced his legs each time the chariot gained momentum.

Likewise, when Amonmose was preparing to shoot, his driver made the proper adjustments. He slowed to allow Amonmose to set up his shot, maintained a steady speed on the launch, and accelerated on the release. One by one, Amonmose struck his targets,
 
the arrows landing with such force that the impact knocked several men to the ground. Some fled while others put up a brave, but futile fight.

Amonmose’s heart thundered in his chest. Beads of sweat trickled down his body, and clouds of dust filled his nostrils. But he would not stop. He could not stop. He owed his father that much.

Amonmose turned toward the sound of battlecries; a group of enemy soldiers was running toward his chariot. As if reading his mind, his driver snapped the reins and began driving the chariot in a wide arc to allow time for him to set up his shot.

Confident in his First Charioteer, Amonmose took aim. The most lethal shots were those planned from a distance, not right up close. As he lifted his arms and pulled his bow taut, the chariot suddenly lunged violently, throwing him off balance. He grabbed the side of the chariot; his arrow hit the dirt.

“Damn!”

“We’ve lost a wheel!” his charioteer yelled.

The chariot wobbled, scraping the ground as the horse raced on. As it lurched wildly, both men grappled for position. The driver jerked tightly on the reins, bringing the galloping horse to a stop.

Amonmose coughed and tried to clear the dust they had kicked up. He couldn’t see! Shadows materialized through the cloud from all sides. One halted long enough to aim and launch a throwing axe. The weapon flipped end over end in precise flight. And it sank into his driver’s heart. The driver’s body crumpled to the ground, where it heaved violently and then became suddenly still.

Amonmose jumped off the chariot, looking for stable ground. If these mongrels thought they could be rid of him so easily, they were sadly mistaken. He fired off two arrows in quick succession. His shots were accurate, but even the swiftest archer could not handle so many alone.

As the men closed in, Amonmose grabbed the First Charioteer’s khopesh to defend himself. A Hyksos soldier, either brave or stupid, rushed toward him, raising his sword in an arc high above his head as he swung. His sword clashed loudly against Amonmose’s.The deafening sound of metal pierced his ears and the force sent Amonmose heavily to the ground. He rolled to his side, narrowly escaping lethal jabs. He tasted the bitter flavor of blood in his mouth as he sprang to his feet.

He charged forward and hooked the khopesh over the soldier’s sword, forcing it downward. He’d made his opening and angrily thrust his sword into the man’s soft belly—a miscalculation. His victim fell forward, and Amonmose let his sword go to avoid being crushed by the man’s weight.

As Amonmose turned, assessing, several Egyptian chariots raced close. The archers aboard shot into the crowd, and several Hyksos fell screaming. Without warning, an arrow sliced through the air and pierced him in the shoulder, sending a searing white-hot pain through his arm. He heard a deep grunt come from his own mouth and then felt warm blood oozing down his shoulder.