The Oasis (54 page)
Authors: Pauline Gedge
Ahmose and I have talked much about the gold. It was collected by Teti-En at Defufa and shipped north for Apepa on barges drawing a very shallow draught. There is no sign of such barges anywhere, so we presume that they are all at Defufa, probably rotting away during the two years of our campaigns. We can use the next month or so to build more, and organize the local Medjay to fill them. It is quite true that gold can be literally picked up from the ground and sifted from the Nile. But where are the Egyptians who will organize the undertaking? We can begin the venture but officials will have to be despatched from Weset to keep the people working. Buhen marks the boundary of Wawat with Kush. Unless we conquer Kush, we cannot obtain the gold that is available right down as far as Defufa and I cannot waste the time or men at present. Not until Apepa and his brood are gone. I do not want to stir up Teti-En. He is too much of a mystery. We do not know what forces are at his command. So far he has shown himself indifferent to events in Egypt. Let us leave him alone. I could perhaps attempt to treaty with him, but if he is an honourable man he will hold to his agreements with Apepa.
I am pleased that the harvest tallies are so high and the granaries full. Also that you have received letters from all the Princes, including the commanders of the navy. However, the fact that neither Meketra nor Iasen have acquainted you with their communication from Nefer-Sakharu fills me with suspicion. They have remained silent on the matter either because they are loyal to me but do not want to stir up trouble for the wife of their dead friend, or they are indeed plotting against us. Of course I cannot form any judgement on the matter just yet. It seems that I will be able to begin a march on Het-Uart as soon as I return. This year may see the end of the Setiu presence in Egypt if Amun wills it. Dictated to the Chief Scribe Ipi and signed by my own hand. Kamose.
ATHYR, DAY 1.
To the Great Queen Tetisheri, greetings. It is difficult to believe that we have been away from Weset for only three months. It seems like three years. Since my last letter to you I have ventured a little way south to view the second cataract, which begins not far above the smaller fort at Kor. Although the floodwaters continue to rise, it is possible to see why the ancients considered it necessary to build a slipway. The cataract itself, called the Belly of Stones, stretches upriver for many miles through granite boulders tossed and tumbled like teeth waiting to rip apart any ship foolhardy enough to try a passage. At its northern end it is barely passable with the use of towing ropes at high water, but vessels cannot be hauled through all of it.
The slipway at Iken runs for perhaps slightly more than a mile where there is a group of rocks almost large enough to be called islands, blocking all progress. Ahmose and I walked its length. It is in good repair even though it has not been used in two years. It would seem to me more sensible to unload the gold at the southern end of the cataract, have it carried to the northern end, and then put on other ships waiting to receive it. But perhaps the sheer volume of the cargo would make this impractical.
My business here is largely concluded. Akhtoy has made my quarters at Buhen in the commander’s house very comfortable. I share it with Ahmose but see him only in the evenings. He spends much time exploring the area and talking to the villagers or putting the troops through manoeuvres to prevent boredom, theirs as well as his.
Ramose and I walk the ramparts of this lordly site and watch the river flowing north to you, or sit in the shade of its soaring walls and talk. He speaks of many things but not of his mother, therefore, Tetisheri, do not relax your vigil. I do not say that Ramose has something on his conscience that engenders a personal guilt, but Nefer-Sakharu may have spoken malicious words to him that would anger me and he dares not tell me out of fear for her well-being. You do not report any further letters between Nefer-Sakharu and the Princes. Either she has not written or the contents are not important enough to acquaint me of them. Yet I feel uneasy. Make sure that the Princes are gathered at Weset by the end of Khoiak as I asked. I do not want them spending more time on their estates than is absolutely necessary.
Hor-Aha has gone to visit his mother, Nithotep. He looks forward to the day when he can invite her to live in the house I shall give him, on the arouras he will govern. Did you know that he carries on his belt a token of his service to my father? He is very pleased at the cleansing of Wawat. We have ensured the Medjay’s loyalty at very little cost to ourselves.
The Festival of Hapi approaches. We will make our sacrifices here, but please pray fervently to the God of the Nile that he may bear us safely on his breast and speed us home when the flood abates. Dictated to the Chief Scribe Ipi and signed by my own hand. Kamose.
KHOIAK, DAY 11.
To the Great Queen Tetisheri, greetings. Today finds us back at Mi’am, having trudged through the desert along the fringes of the flood to get here. The water is still too high to launch the boats but it has begun to sink. In another week we will risk the return to Swenet and the difficulties of the first cataract. I pray that it will be passable.
Since receiving your last letter I have been in a state of anxiety. Why has Intef not written to you for so long? Qebt is a mere twenty miles from Weset. I am glad that my mother decided to take an escort and visit him in person and her excuse for doing so, a concern for his welfare, was a plausible one. His own excuses for his silence seem too glib. What Prince does not find his hours taken up with settling the petty squabbles of his subjects and arguing with his stewards regarding the disposition of the crops after the harvest? At least he assured her that he would arrive in Weset at the end of this month. The other Princes should be preparing to travel as well.
I am not happy, Tetisheri. I sense something wrong. I have vague premonitions and wish I could consult Amun’s oracle. Do it for me, although nothing can be as disheartening as his last pronouncement. I try not to dwell on it, but in this vast, heat-seared aridity death does not seem so very far away in spite of the small routines and duties of a life on the march. They ought to comfort me but their protection is illusory. One disaster, one mistake, one outbreak of fever, and we are at the mercy of implacably hostile surroundings. I am losing control over my own thoughts and I certainly have no control over whatever is happening in Egypt. I am desperate to leave Wawat behind me.
Ahmose is bored but he does not brood. As we passed Toska, a Medjay village on the east bank, he commandeered a reed skiff and poled himself across the current in order to hack our names into the rock there. I was angry with him for taking such a risk but he just laughed. “I am ensuring that the gods may find us if things go badly and our tombs are destroyed,” he said, but I think he did it out of sheer high spirits. The soldiers cheered him all the way.
I am surprised and pleased that Aahmes-nefertari has taken to watching the troops drill out on the desert and that she has been offering little rewards to those men who excel at the mock battles. She has taken my instructions to heart. Tell her of my approval.
I will not write again, Grandmother. If all goes well, I will embrace you sometime in Tybi. Dictated to the Chief Scribe Ipi and signed by my own hand. Kamose.
15
THERE WAS SOMETHING DIFFERENT
about this homecoming. It was not in the wide, turbid flow of a Nile still lapping just above its banks, nor in the burst of new green life flushing along the east bank. It was not in the dazzle of his watersteps where the mooring poles, blue and white, broke the water into crystal rivulets as his boat approached them. The vine trellis still arched above the path that meandered to the house through spreading sycamores. The house itself, glimpsed fitfully through the entangled branches, still extended comfortably amid its flowerbeds and sparse lawns, its walls gleaming with the fresh whitewash the servants applied every spring. The wall dividing the garden from the old palace was still crumbling and the palace itself continued to rear above it with a worn, aristocratic dignity. Kamose, his hands gripping the deck rail, Ahmose and Ramose to either side, felt his heart expand as his gaze travelled the familiar scene. A little farther north he could see the top of the temple pylon, pale stone caught between deep blue sky and the quivering spears of the palms. To his left on the west bank, sand flowed towards the brown cliffs and he could just make out the mortuary temple of his ancestor Osiris Mentuhotepneb-hapet-Ra tucked shimmering against the base of the rocks.
Heart pounding with a strange joy, he scanned the sun-drenched panorama for change, something different, something to explain the loosening of every tension within his body and the lightening of his mind, and found nothing. All was as it should be, as it had always been, house, old palace, temple, town, blending together in a sanity of perspective he had known from his childhood. True, the river was choked with craft of every description and the banks were alive with soldiers so that he knew the Princes had come, but boats and men could not account for the relief and exultation he felt.
No, he thought suddenly. No. Blessed Weset has remained the same. It is I who have changed. Something happened to me in Wawat, a shift in my ka so subtle that I did not detect it. When? Why? Was it a swift unnoticed progress or an infinitesimal turn because I glanced a certain way in a certain patch of sunlight towards a certain hill? O Great and Mighty Amun, does this mean that everything will be all right? That the thing weighing so heavily upon me has been lifted and I may dare to look forward, to conquer Het-Uart, to bring the Horus Throne back to the old palace and feel the Double Crown settle on my brow? He clutched his brother’s wrist. “Ahmose,” he said thickly. “Ahmose …” and could get no further for the lump in his throat.
The boat nudged the steps and at a cry from his captain the ramp was run out. The Followers formed a guard. Without hesitation Kamose ran across the deck and down the warm wood onto the stone flagging where Behek was, as usual, the first to welcome him. At the end of the path he saw his women hurrying towards him. Briefly he examined his ka and found there no stain of dislocation, no shrinking. Smiling, he held out his arms. “Wawat is a wondrous place!” he called. “But Weset is better!” He enfolded them fiercely, glad for the feel of their soft flesh, the smell of their perfume, their high, excited voices. Only Tetisheri looked at him askance. Disengaging herself, she stepped back, scrutinizing him carefully.
“You seem to be pleased with us, Majesty,” she said dryly. “Well, you will not be pleased for long. The Princes are here and they have brought many soldiers with them. Too many. The barracks are crowded to overflowing and the distribution of food has become a headache. Of course I did not know that they would arrive surrounded by their own private armies or I would have forbidden it.” She squeezed his forearm. “I do not like it, Kamose.” At any other time he would have rebuked her for thrusting concerns on him before he had even had time to bathe, but now he merely frowned and patted her gaunt fingers.
“I do not like it either,” he replied after a moment. “But much depends on why they have seen fit to provide themselves with armed protection. Has there been trouble, Tetisheri? Is Apepa stirring? What of Pi-Hathor and Esna?” She shook her head vigorously.
“Nothing like that. Word from Abana in the north is good. The Delta has lain quiet. Pi-Hathor likewise. The Princes had no good reason for all these hundreds of extra mouths we have been trying to fill.”
He pulled her to a halt. Behind them Aahmes-nefertari was exclaiming with relish over the small bag of gold dust her husband had gathered from the edge of the river for her with his own hands and Ramose, his arm around his mother’s shoulders, was talking to her in a low voice. Ahmose-onkh was toddling in the rear, Behek now pacing beside him, the dog’s ear grasped firmly in the child’s little fist. “What is it, Grandmother?” Kamose said in a low voice. “What do you sense? Have the Princes not been fully respectful and obedient?” Tetisheri shrugged.
“I have noticed no change in their attitude towards me,” she declared, “but they have refused to entertain Ankhmahor’s suggestions regarding the bivouacking of their troops on the west bank instead of the desert behind our enclosure wall. He returned a little earlier than the rest of them. He has been trying to establish some order, but naturally they regard him as one of themselves and he does not have the power to command them without your permission. It has been all he could do to keep them and their retinue out of the house.” Kamose felt a stab of genuine alarm.
“Could you not issue commands yourself, through him?” he demanded.
“I have certainly tried,” she answered forthrightly, “and to some degree I have been successful. Aahmes-nefertari has segregated our men and used them to patrol the town and of course the estate itself. There have been no outward incidents, Kamose,” she finished in exasperation. “It is all intuitions, annoying hints, vague suspicions that all is not well. I am relieved that you are home.”
