The Horus Road (47 page)

At night the wind lessened, but a cold came down to disturb the soldiers’ sleep and rime their blankets with frost. If we are here through summer to winter and another spring, I must find warmer clothing for the troops, Ahmose noted to himself as he lay shivering beside the remains of the fire Mesehti had lit for him earlier. Woollen tunics perhaps, with sleeves. More blankets certainly. Oh, Amun, are you here with me in this accursed place so far from your temple and Amunmose, your High Priest, and Aahmesnefertari, your Second Prophet? He had intended to try and pray but the vision of his wife’s face rose before his inner eye and the words of praise and pleading died. He gave himself up to a troubled half-sleep.

Just after noon on the fourth day, their eighth out from Het-Uart, they sighted Sharuhen. Five miles away, it rose out of the gravelled desert around it like a piece of the mountains to the east that had been lopped off, smoothed, and rammed into the earth by a giant hand. Its air of permanence and invulnerability was daunting. They approached it cautiously, relieved to have left the dunes behind, watching as its towering bulk gained definition in the shimmer of the afternoon light.

Ahmose called a halt just out of range of any archers on the walls and at once deployed his divisions, four to encircle the fort and one to form a perimeter around them to guard against outside attack. There was no shelter anywhere on the plain. A few stunted and thorny bushes clung tenaciously to life and there was some evidence of hardy desert flowers that would bloom briefly under winter rains but it was a desolate arena for a siege.

Ahmose had his tent pitched close to Turi’s. Everywhere he looked his men’s own little shelters were mushrooming white all over the stony ground. Chariots were racing to and fro, officers were shouting, the wagons full of food and supplies were being unloaded, but the noises of preparation were eclipsed by the sudden wild clamour coming from the walls of the city. Ahmose could see men up there running about, pointing and yelling, a mad stridency of surprise, but there was no terror in the voices. They know they have no need to fear an immediate death at our hands, he thought dismally. Our swords cannot reach them. Not yet. Not until they are starving. And this place is big enough to hold many fine gardens and wells within its stone enclosure. There are none outside. Sharuhen is going to defeat me. I feel it. He turned to Khabekhnet, waiting dutifully at his elbow. “Send a runner with guards to the coast,” he ordered. “He can take a chariot. I want to know if Abana and Hor-Aha have arrived and what they have done so far. If all is well with them, have them brought back here together with the Medjay and then summon the generals to a council this evening.” Khabekhnet bowed and went away, bowing again to Tani who was picking her way towards Ahmose.

“You have commanded Akhtoy to erect my tent beside yours,” she said without preamble. “But I will not be needing it, Ahmose. I wish to go into the city at once.” Her chin was up and her eyes were defiant. He scanned her face, weighing the advisability of keeping her with him through the strategy discussions he was about to hold.

“I would like to issue a formal request for Apepa’s surrender before I say farewell to you,” he answered her. “That will be done in the morning. I beg you to endure my company for two more days, Tani.” Her expression softened.

“I am sorry,” she said contritely. “I am torn in two between my love for my husband and my loyalty to you, my brother. I will stay. This is an unforgiving site, is it not?”

“Yes, it is. Change your mind and let me send you home!” he urged without much hope. “What is there for you to look forward to but exile among foreigners here or in similar places for the rest of your life! And if your husband dies, you will be nothing, the minor wife of a fugitive chieftain. Do you not sometimes miss your little room on the estate at Weset, the lily pond and the hippopotamuses, your mother’s voice and the desert at sunset?”

“Yes, I miss those things,” she said quietly. “It makes no difference, Ahmose. If my tent is ready I will go and rest.”

Ahmose held his conference inside his own tent at dusk to escape the first chill of evening. The space was crowded with his men but they were subdued, sipping their wine soberly and talking mildly, without enthusiasm. Six Keftian captains had come with Abana and now sat cross-legged on the floor around him, their tight leather caps reflecting the lamplight, their dark eyes wary and their thin, aquiline noses poised to sniff the way this new wind would blow.

The furore on the walls of the city had died down but citizens still thronged up there, looking out curiously upon the Egyptian host. Ahmose had forbidden the arriving Medjay to shoot at them. There was no point yet in killing anyone.

“I have given much thought to our situation,” he began, and at once all conversation ceased. “I do not need to tell you all that we are in an untenable situation. Not with regard to a siege, of course. We have become experts at that particular military necessity. I am referring to the need to feed and water twenty-five thousand soldiers.” No one moved and no one had laughed at his bitter joke. “This afternoon I have set up a series of stages back along the route we have come, with runners and a handful of soldiers to carry news quickly to and from the Delta. But the distance is too great for the continual transportation of water and difficult even for food. I could send an expedition into the mountains where there must be streams and springs to nourish the tribesmen who inhabit that region but I am loath to approach them. They gave no aid to Apepa in Egypt. I presume that they will not care to help us and even if they did agree, the supply would be dependent upon both their goodwill and whatever we were willing to pay them, and thus unreliable. I cannot take the chance of seeing my army die of thirst at the mercy of Rethennu’s goatherders.” He swivelled in his chair and fixed his eyes on the Keftians. “Are you aware that your ruler has concluded treaties with my court at Weset?” he asked. They nodded and one scrambled to his feet.

“We know of this, Majesty,” he said. “Already an exchange of goods is passing between Keftiu and Weset. Trade between our countries has always been peaceful and profitable and you will please forgive me if I say that we have not cared who sat on the Horus Throne so long as we could embark from Egypt with linen and papyrus in our holds. The Setiu no longer control the Delta; therefore we are disposed to help you as we are able.”

“You have six ships anchored off the coast,” Ahmose stated.

“Yes. We had unloaded urns of oil for Sharuhen and were preparing to sail home.”

“They are large ocean-going vessels, Majesty,” Abana broke in. “We have nothing like them. They would do very well.” He had obviously caught the drift of Ahmose’s thought. Ahmose smiled at him wryly then turned his attention back to the Keftian.

“If you will agree to ferry food but particularly water from the Delta to my army here, I will pay you with gold,” he told him. “And of course you would accrue a store of goodwill in Egypt that Keftiu might wish to call upon in the future.”

The captain hesitated. He adjusted the wide woven belt around his waist and pulled at the wrap of his black-andwhite patterned skirt. Then he folded his arms. “Keftiu is continuing to trade with Rethennu, Majesty,” he pointed out cautiously. “They supply us with cedar and other things we value. If I and my fellow captains help you, we are in danger of provoking Rethennu into cutting off trade with us.”

“I have no quarrel with Rethennu,” Ahmose said emphatically. “I fought Setiu soldiers who were sent into the Delta, into Egypt, to bolster Apepa. I am here because I want Apepa, not because I plan to invade and subjugate Rethennu. When I have him, I will go home. This incursion will not extend beyond Sharuhen.” The captain still looked doubtful. His compatriots were studying the carpet.

“I must send to my merchant on Keftiu and he will approach our ruler,” he said. “I do not want to inadvertently make an enemy of either Rethennu or Egypt.” He was clearly becoming distressed.

“Send then,” Ahmose said heavily. “And if you receive permission, ask for more of Keftiu’s ships. Six will not be enough. I will dictate a letter to your ruler asking for his brotherly help. But while you are waiting for a reply, will you work with Prince Abana in bringing us water? For gold?” The captain gave in. His arms loosened.

“Very well,” he agreed, and sank to the floor.

“Thank you. If you will go with the Commander of my Followers who is outside, he will find you a meal, and my Admiral and his marines will see you safely back to your ships.” Abana rose at once and while the Keftians were filing out he came over to Ahmose.

“Their ships are interesting, Majesty,” he said in a low voice. “I and my captains can learn much about their construction and handling. Later we will need such craft of our own if we are to extend Egypt’s trade.”

“Treat them courteously, Abana,” Ahmose replied in the same tone. “Praise their seamanship. Let our sailors mingle with theirs. I have no doubt that the ruler of Keftiu will see the wisdom in giving us aid, but in the meantime I need that water!” Abana bowed and smiled.

“I understand perfectly, Majesty. Rest assured that tomorrow morning they will be on their way to the Delta escorted by the
Kha-em-Mennofer
. I expect to return with water in six days. I will instruct Paheri to dispatch more ships from here in three days. Thus a constant if meagre supply will be ensured until more ships arrive from Keftiu.” He went out and the remaining men exchanged glances.

“A brilliant move, Majesty,” General Akhethotep purred. “Keftiu has more to lose in the long run by refusing us support than by choosing to side with Rethennu. Now what shall we do about Sharuhen?” No one answered him.

Ahmose slept well that night in spite of the fruitless discussion in which he and his generals had become mired. Sieging was simple. Protecting the outer flanks of the army was simple. Only entering Sharuhen was impossible, and after several hours of useless wrangling and ever more unrealistic plans Ahmose sent them back to their quarters. Hor-Aha had made the only solid suggestion, that when one of the gates opened to admit Tani it might be stormed. It was a valid though slim idea and Hor-Aha was disappointed when Ahmose refused it. “It would make my sister seem to be a traitor to her husband,” he had told them. “Apepa and the chieftain of Sharuhen would believe that she had betrayed her honour. Desperate as I am to put an end to this protracted war, I will not do Tani this disservice.”

“Majesty, your familial loyalty does you credit,” Iymery had said. Daringly he went on, “But your main objective should be taking the city, not preserving your sister’s good name.” A mutter of assent mingled with apprehension went through the men. They were expecting a display of royal anger from Ahmose but it did not come.

“I appreciate your honesty, General,” Ahmose had responded equably. “I believe that I promised all of you the liberty of speaking your thoughts freely to me when we first began to craft this army. Besides, Tani herself would see what we were about to do and she would refuse to approach the gate. My mind is made up against this. I have spoken.” Baqet had grimaced ruefully.

“I suppose she would not,” he had put in. “Your sister may now be Queen Tautha and her allegiance misplaced but she is still a Tao, possessed of that same fierce sense of principle that propelled us all towards the recovery of Egypt’s sovereignty. Such singlemindedness may yet wear down Sharuhen’s obstinacy. Stranger things have happened if the will of the gods is bent in our favour.”

Ahmose had thought that their mute disapproval would rankle and prevent him from relaxing as he lay on his cot in the dark. It was the first time any disagreement had come between him and his comrades-in-arms. But he realized with a rush of humility that they not only revered him as their King but also held an affection for him as himself, a man, and he slid into unconsciousness on a tide of gladness.

The morning was not quite as cold as mornings had been since the army left the Horus Road. No frost had formed, the sky was a friendly hue, and the sun shone with a welcome warmth. Word came to Ahmose as he was being dressed that the scroll he had dictated the night before to the Keftian ruler was on its way with a herald and one of the foreign captains, and that the rest, together with Abana in the navy’s flagship, had set out for the Delta. Morale among the troops had risen now that they were settled into permanent positions, and the Medjay, having been prostrated by seasickness on the journey from Het-Uart, had recovered and were out behind the Division of Amun, shooting at targets with many shrieks and spirited laughter.

A siege creates a strange city, Ahmose reflected as he stepped out into the sparkling sunlight. No women or children, tents instead of mud houses and shops, but all else resembles a vast town with its streets, its grain stores, its shrines, its throngs of people, the smells of cooking and the braying of donkeys. There was no sign of Tani or her guard, although her tent flap had been folded back. Ahmose was guiltily relieved. Sending for Khabekhnet and his chariot, he surveyed Sharuhen while he waited. Once again the top of its walls were crowded with sightseers, both men and women, their hair and clothing whipped about by the stiff breeze, their faces indistinguishable but their gestures and the swell of their blended conversations betraying a high excitement. “They could be celebrating a festival judging by their noise,” Ankhmahor commented. He and the Followers were close by, as always. “I would not be surprised to see them rain flowers down upon us, Majesty.”

“Not flowers I think. There is an overtone of arrogance in their babel,” Ahmose remarked. “They know themselves to be inviolate. Well, we shall see if we can shake their attitude of invincibility a little.” Khabekhnet had come up and saluted and Ahmose turned to him. “You will come with me and shout this message at every gate,” he said. “ ‘To the commander of the fort of Sharuhen, greetings from Uatch-Kheperu Ahmose, Son of the Sun, the Horus of Gold, he of the Sedge and the Bee. I, King of Egypt, swear by the Divine Amun that if you deliver to me the Setiu Apepa and all his family, together with the Horus Throne and the Royal Regalia he so deceitfully stole, the inhabitants of your city will be spared. If you refuse, I will put every man, woman and child to the sword. You have until tomorrow morning to make an answer.’ Repeat it to me, Khabekhnet.” The Chief Herald did so. “Good,” Ahmose said briskly. “Ankhmahor, bring the Followers and the royal flag planted outside my tent. Here is Mesehti with my chariot. We will begin with the south gate, seeing that it is the closest.”