The Oasis (18 page)

Entering the courtyard, Tetisheri paused. Amunmose had just shut and bolted the doors to the sanctuary and was applying the seal that would remain in place until the evening rites took place. Turning, he saw her and bowed, then came to her swiftly, removing from his shoulder the leopard skin and passing it to an acolyte who bore it reverently away. “Greetings, Amunmose,” Tetisheri said. “I have come to see the treasure my grandson brought home.” He returned her smile and gestured to the storerooms and priests’ cells lining the outer wall of the temple.

“It is good to see you, Majesty,” he responded cheerfully. “The goods have all been tallied and sorted. His Majesty has been most generous to Amun and I am grateful.”

“His Majesty knows how much he owes to the power of Amun and the loyalty of his priest,” Tetisheri answered as they began to walk together across the court. “You have given Kamose far more than your trust, Amunmose, and he regards you as a friend.”

“When His Majesty rids Egypt of the foreigners, he has promised to make Weset the centre of the world and elevate Amun to the status of King of the Gods,” Amunmose commented. “We are living in stirring times. Each one of us has been called to examine where our fealty lies.” He hesitated, drew breath to continue, hesitated again, and as they arrived at the storeroom door and were bowed into the welcome coolness by a temple guard, he swung to face her. Seeing his reluctance to speak, she snapped, “Well, Amunmose? What is it?”

“It is the omens, Majesty,” he blurted. “They have not been good since His Majesty returned home. The blood that poured from the bull I sacrificed as a thanksgiving was black and it stank. All the doves were rotten inside. I do not exaggerate.”

“Of course you don’t!” Tetisheri stared at him unseeingly for a moment. “Were the sacrifices made specifically on Kamose’s behalf or in gratitude for the progress of his war?”

“They were made for His Majesty alone, a gift to Amun for keeping him safe. I fear for his life, Tetisheri, yet he is in good health, the army prospers, and most of Egypt is back in the hands of your divine family. I do not understand, but I am more than worried. What have the gods decreed? How has he displeased them? The fate of Egypt is being decided in the person of your grandson. Do the gods not care?”

“You are the High Priest! You should know!” Tetisheri barked back at him, in her panic ignoring his use of her name. “Why was I not told of this before? Kamose has been home for nearly a week!”

“Forgive me,” Amunmose said diffidently. “I did not want to distress you prematurely. There was the bull first, and I sacrificed the doves the following day to be sure that the first omen was correct. When it was confirmed, I consulted the oracle.” Tetisheri wanted to shake him. His expression, usually so open and artless, was a mixture of insecurity and alarm and he was fidgeting nervously with the full sleeves of his shift.

“And what,” she said with obvious deliberation through clenched teeth, “did the oracle say?” His shoulders slumped and he managed a rueful smile.

“I am sorry,” he said at once. “I have been fumbling and imprecise out of my own great concern. The oracle spoke these words. ‘Three Kings there were, then two, then one, before the work of the god was done.’ That was all.”

“That was all? Then what does it mean? Did the oracle elaborate? What are we supposed to make of it and what use is it if it makes no sense to us?” Faced with her own incomprehension, her quick temper was rising and she fought to control it. “Are we supposed to sit around discussing interpretations until some ray of new inspiration strikes us? Three Kings, then two, then one. What in the name of Amun is that about?” Amunmose was used to her outbursts. Going farther into the room, he brought back a stool and set it behind her. She sank onto it absently.

“I am indeed the High Priest,” he said. “I am also the First Prophet of Amun. The god speaks to the oracle but the authority to interpret is mine.”

“Well, stop shredding your linen and perform your task!” He nodded.

“There were three Kings, three true Kings in Egypt,” he said. “Seqenenra the Mighty Bull of Ma’at, Beloved of Amun; his son Kamose, the Hawk-in-the-Nest; and his youngest son, Prince Ahmose. We cannot consider poor Si-Amun, who sold his birthright and paid the price. Your son, Seqenenra, was killed. In that moment Kamose, the Hawk-in-the-Nest, became the Mighty Bull in his father’s place.”

“I know where you are going,” Tetisheri interposed huskily. “The god’s work has begun but is not yet completed, and before it is, there will be only one King left. Ahmose.” She rose to her feet determinedly. “But the prophetic utterance has not been set into the fabric of time, Amunmose, and my whole being revolts against the presumption that His Majesty will die before old age carries him into the Judgement Hall. Supposing the work of the god will not be done until the very last foreigner is expelled from our soil? That could be long after Het-Uart has fallen and Apepa executed. Besides, what if the last King is Ahmose-onkh?”

“That would make four Kings,” Amunmose reminded her. “We are clutching at straws here, Majesty. Perhaps my interpretation is faulty?” She sighed.

“No, I do not think so. But I refuse to believe that Kamose will not sit on the Horus Throne here in Weset once it has been snatched back from that upstart Apepa. The god will not be angry if we try to draw out the sentence of fate; therefore, I will command a doubling of guards upon Kamose and set a watch upon his food and drink.”

“He may succumb to the prophecy in battle.”

“He may.” She waved an impatient hand at the sacks and chests piled all around her. “I am no longer interested in examining the treasure,” she said. “Tell me, Amunmose, have you noticed any changes in my grandson since he returned?” His eyes narrowed and met hers shrewdly.

“Majesty, you and I have been partners in the service of the god and the furtherance of the Tao destiny since I came to the temple as a we’eb priest,” he reminded her. “You would not ask me that question unless there were grounds for a positive answer. I am His Majesty’s faithful servant and my first loyalty goes to him, but if I thought he had become other than what he is, I would let you know.” He shrugged. “His Majesty seemed a trifle brusque and very preoccupied. That is all.”

“Thank you. Please keep the oracle’s saying to yourself, Amunmose. Kamose must not have his confidence undermined by the added weight of an impending doom to which he might not succumb for hentis. I will see you on the twenty-second of this month for the celebration of the Feast of the Great Manifestation of Osiris.” Acknowledging his obeisance, she left him, walking quickly back to her litter with Isis holding the sunshade above her.

This is cruel, she thought furiously, as her litter jolted on its way back to the house. This is not acceptable, Amun, this is no way to repay my grandson’s devotion to Egypt. He has emptied himself, he has suffered, and you reward him with the promise that he will be dead before you reign over a purified country. I do not like you today. Not at all. So she fumed, fists clenched in her lap so that she should not feel the deeper emotions, pain and fear, until she was ready to let them consume her.

She did not re-enter the house. Sending Isis with a message to Uni to keep back her midday meal, she ordered her bearers to continue on behind the gardens, beyond the servants’ quarters and the granaries, to where the Followers of His Majesty were billeted. Here the élite guards of the King had comfortable barracks fronting their own small pond and lawn and their commander, Prince Ankhmahor, occupied a detached cell of three large rooms. Tetisheri walked straight in, startling the scribe seated on a mat on the floor, scrolls piled around him. Laying aside his palette, he scrambled up and bowed to her hastily. “Majesty,” he stammered. “It is an honour. The Prince is not here.”

“So I see,” Tetisheri said tartly. “Go and find him. I will wait.” He bowed again and Tetisheri was pleased to see that he gathered up the scrolls and placed them in their box before backing out of the room. Doubtless he had been copying information regarding the Followers for storage in the archives. Such information was not forbidden to her, but protocol required her to demand it from the commander, who would have been angry with his servant if he knew that the man had left it lying under unauthorized eyes, even those of Tetisheri herself.

She found a chair and sat facing the open door, listening to the strident blend of birdsong in the trees outside, until the light beyond was cut off and Ankhmahor strode in. He shook the dust from his sandals, then reverenced her politely, and she looked into his face with a lightening of her heart. “It is good to see you, Ankhmahor,” she said. “I was glad when I heard that my grandson had appointed you Commander of the Followers. I knew your mother. She was an estimable woman.” He smiled, standing easily before her, the wings of his blue-and-white striped helmet framing features that exuded the calm sobriety Kamose trusted.

“Your Majesty is gracious,” he replied. “How may I serve you?” He did not apologize for being absent when she arrived, and she was secretly pleased. Any hint of obsequiousness made her irritable. She straightened her spine and with it came an interior tautening.

“I want you to tell me how Kamose seems to you,” she began. “I will be honest with you, Prince. I am worried about him. Since he came home, he has been withdrawn and when he does speak his words are bitter and sometimes even unbalanced.” She paused and then plunged on, quelling the spurt of disloyalty she felt. “I love my grandson and the state of his health is vital to me, but there is more at stake here than Kamose’s mental condition. Is he fit to remain in charge of the army?” The question was out now, hanging in the air like a condemnation. Tetisheri felt herself diminished by it, as though some of her omnipotence had been sucked from her with the utterance, and she was suddenly very thirsty. Ankhmahor’s eyebrows had shot up, and without being invited to do so he settled himself on the edge of the desk.

“I think that under any other circumstances in the fortunes of our country I would have to say no,” he said frankly. “His Majesty has swept north with a ruthlessness and brutality that has horrified many. Egypt is almost a wasteland, but it is the action of a purge, planned and executed out of necessity, not cruelty. Such an action on the part of a King ruling a free and stable Egypt merely being threatened by, say, an incursion from the desert tribes, would be seen as madness. It is to your grandson’s high credit that the uncompromising nature of his deeds has resulted in personal suffering. He has felt every sword thrust into Egyptian flesh and that pain has increased his hatred of the Setiu for compelling him both to do these things and to feel them so deeply.” He glanced at her thoughtfully. “There is also his need to revenge his father’s death and his brother’s suicide. He is being tempered in the very fire he has lit, Majesty. It may consume him in the end, but not before he has completed the task. He has my total allegiance.”

“How do the other Princes regard him?” Ankhmahor smiled slowly.

“At first they were terrified that he might succeed,” he told her. “Even though they had pledged to him, they wanted to be spared a lot of bloodshed and inconvenience. Later they went in awe of him for what he accomplished and for his harshness.” Awe, Tetisheri repeated to herself. Awe. Yes.

“And now?” she prodded him. “What of Hor-Aha?” His gaze became speculative.

“You are a Queen of surprising intuition,” he said softly. “I had heard of the pride and intractability of the Tao women, but not of their masculine turn of mind. I mean you no disrespect, Majesty.”

“I am not offended. We share an ancient lineage, Ankhmahor. Well?”

“The Princes do not like the General. They are jealous of what they see as his hold upon His Majesty. They resent being under his command.”

“And Ahmose agrees with them.”

Ankhmahor sighed. “His Highness is a man of great perception, moderate in his views and his speech. He shares his brother’s affection for Hor-Aha and acknowledges his skill in matters of warfare, but he is not blind to the danger of the situation. His Majesty is. Loyalty has become the only creed by which he judges.”

Tetisheri’s thirst had intensified. She swallowed with difficulty. “Can Kamose hold them together?” she asked bluntly.

“I believe so, as long as he continues to give them victory. If the siege goes badly next season, they will blame the General. If His Majesty defends him, there will be trouble. But I do not like to enter the world of ‘ifs.’”

“I do not like to either, but I must,” Tetisheri said. “I want you to increase the guard you put on him, Ankhmahor.”

“May I ask why?” Again she hesitated, and it came to her that she trusted this man as she had trusted her husband, without reservation. The knowledge spread through her like a balm.

“Because this morning Amunmose told me that the omens for Kamose were bad,” she said flatly. “There has been an unfavourable oracle. I am not really afraid of an attack on his person while he is here, but it is well to take every precaution.” She rose clumsily, her joints stiff. “Thank you for your candour, Prince. I do not require reports from you, indeed that might be construed as an invasion of your responsibilities.” She smiled. “Look after him.” She moved to the door and turned to receive his obeisance.

“He is a great man, worthy to wear the Double Crown, Majesty,” he said. “I pray that he will be remembered with love.”

I doubt it, Tetisheri thought, as she hurried towards the house. His mighty aim to free Egypt, the baiting of this family by Apepa, Seqenenra’s bravery and our desperation, it will all disappear. Only my grandson’s remorselessness will remain. Few men in ages to come will know enough to testify on his behalf.

Once back in her own quarters, Tetisheri sent Isis to fetch her meal. “But first,” she ordered, “bring me beer or I shall faint.” When it came, she drank deeply and gratefully before demolishing the food her servant had set before her. The conversation with Ankhmahor, distressing though it had been, had somehow comforted her, and in the increasing torpor of a blazing afternoon she took to her couch and slept without moving.