He sat alone and undisturbed beneath a lean-to on the roof of the residence, shaded from the sun’s heat, cooled by a breeze that stirred the air, sipping a local beer that smelled as harsh as it tasted. Ahmose had told him he would learn to like the brew. He was glad he would not remain at Askut long enough to develop a taste for it.
As the sun dipped below the western horizon, he scrawled the last symbol on the papyrus. Not long after, while cleaning his reed pen and scribal pallet, he heard
Nebwa cross the triangular square between the house and the main gate. He quickly rolled the scroll, tied it with a cord, and impressed his symbol of office on the mud seal he affixed to the knot. Hurrying down the stairs, he met his friend and Amonked in the second-floor courtyard.
“Ah, there you are, Lieutenant.” Amonked, his demeanor serious, purposeful, glanced into Ahmose’s private recep tion room, which was smaller than that of Commandant
Thuty’s and considerably neater. “Where’s Lieutenant Ah mose? I must speak with the three of you.”
Noting the inspector’s manner, his peremptory tone, Bak flung a querying glance at Nebwa. He got a shake of the head in return and a look that said he, too, was baffled.
Ahmose emerged from a rear door, rubbing his hands in satisfaction. “You’ve come. Good. My wife’s prepared a feast fit for our sovereign, but we’ve time for a bowl of wine before it’s ready.”
Without a word, Amonked walked into the reception room and sat down on the chair, which had been carried upstairs to the private quarters especially for his comfort.
Ahmose gave the two officers from Buhen a startled look, got Nebwa’s shrug in return, and led the way inside. When the three were seated on stools and a servant had handed out bowls of dark red wine that smelled of spices, the in spector said:
“You’re puzzled by my attitude, as you’ve every right to be. We’re here to celebrate our victory, yet I’ve come with a purpose of great and serious import.”
Bak set his bowl on the floor by his feet, his taste for the wine momentarily lost. “Has something happened, sir, that makes our victory look small by comparison?”
“No.” Amonked sipped from his bowl, nodded approval.
“We will celebrate, but first things first.” He sipped again as if reluctant to voice what he suspected his listeners might not wish to hear. “I’ve thought long and hard about Hor pen-Deshret, about the fate of a man who places his own self-interest above that of all who look to him for leadership.”
“His fate?” Nebwa demanded. “Have you not already decided to take him to Waset?”
“I fear we must allow the wretched criminal to escape.”
Bak stared, his power of speech stolen by shock.
“What!” Nebwa roared.
Ahmose looked stricken. “You can’t mean that, sir.”
“I can and I do.”
“But, sir,” Ahmose said, “he’ll come back, just as he did this time. He’ll make the people’s lives a misery, and we’ll once again have to face him on the field of battle.”
Amonked was unmoved. “He knows that no army he gathers, no matter how large, can defeat the might of Kemet. And he knows impalement will be the price he’ll pay when he’s caught.”
“He’ll have nothing to fear if the army is torn from this land,” Bak pointed out.
Amonked formed an enigmatic little smile and bowed his head slightly in Bak’s direction. “Shall I go to Maatkare
Hatshepsut and tell her of the battle we fought, of the many enemy dead and their captured chieftain, of small groups of wandering nomads too downtrodden to do more than pilfer when they bring their flocks to the river? Or shall I tell her of our hard-won battle, of the wandering nomads who covet the riches traveling south to Kemet, and a pow erful chieftain free to strike again?”
Bak began to understand. At least he thought he did.
Nebwa and Ahmose stared at the inspector as if afraid their hearing had failed them.
Amonked wove his fingers together across his stomach and eyed the trio one after the other. “I cannot, in all good conscience, recommend to our sovereign that she leave the army on the Belly of Stones if the major threat to peace and security is no longer here.”
“The local people will be incensed,” Bak said.
“Which would they prefer? A distant threat of Hor-pen Deshret far out on the desert, living among men weary of his vain promises? Or the very real possibility that the army might be torn from this land?”
Bak had come to like and trust Amonked, to see him as a far stronger man than Nofery had thought him to be, but would he maintain that strength in Waset, facing the all powerful woman who sat on the throne? Bak saw indeci sion on Nebwa’s face and Ahmose’s. They had similar doubts. He looked again at Amonked, at the short, plump man with thinning hair he had seen fighting at Nebwa’s side during the battle. He decided to take a chance on the man he had come to know.
“Hor-pen-Deshret can’t escape until our caravan is well on its way to Semna,” he said, “and he must free himself at a time when the fortress of Askut is dangerously under manned.”
Ahmose looked relieved that the decision had been made by someone other than him. “Half my troops are already gone, escorting the tribesmen into the desert.”
Nebwa, looking less certain, said nothing.
“You can work out the details later,” Amonked said.
“But remember: whatever you do must seem normal and natural. I want no blame to fall on any of us.”
Bak noted the inspector’s inclusion of himself as one who might shoulder the blame.
“I see no reason to discuss this conversation with Com mandant Thuty or anyone else,” Amonked went on. “Even
Hor-pen-Deshret must be made to believe his escape is the will of his gods.”
“Yes, sir,” the three officers chorused.
Bak thought of the tribal chieftain and Captain Min kheper, comparing their offenses, their fate. Hor-pen Deshret, whose vile crimes far exceeded that of the naval officer, would be set free, while Minkheper would die. The punishment in no way matched the crimes.
“Sir. Captain Minkheper helped teach the drovers and guards to use their weapons to best advantage and he fought valiantly throughout the battle. If not for him, I’d have died at the hands of an enemy warrior. Must he be made to suffer while Hor-pen-Deshret walks away alive and well?”
Amonked eyed him curiously. “What would you suggest,
Lieutenant? Baket-Amon’s wife will demand justice.”
Bak spoke carefully, thinking out his plea as he spoke.
A plea that would make sense when Amonked repeated it to Maatkare Hatshepsut. “By insisting on Minkheper’s death, as she’s sure to do, the prince’s widow will be ex ercising her will over that of our sovereign, thereby bring ing the land of Kemet to its knees. Maatkare Hatshepsut is a proud woman. Is that the precedent she’ll wish to set?”
“Go on,” Amonked said, nodding. Whether in agreement or merely understanding, Bak could not begin to guess.
“Though the captain obeyed the gods of his homeland, he’s a true man of Kemet. He’s lived in Waset and Men nufer most of his life and he loves our land as no other. To banish him, to tear him forever from the place he calls his home, to force him to die and be entombed elsewhere, would be to tear the heart from his soul.”
Amonked sat unmoving, his eyes on Bak, his face empty of emotion. At last he said, “I’ll speak with Viceroy Inebny and with Baket-Amon’s wife. Then I’ll take Captain Min kheper to our sovereign in Waset and plead for his exile.”
Bak offered a silent prayer to the lord Amon, a prayer that Amonked would be strong enough to press his case and win, that justice would be served.
Epilogue
Four weeks later
“So they’re sailing tomorrow,” Nebwa said. “I shall miss them.”
Bak, too, regretted the parting. “I never thought I’d count any of them as friends, but I’ve come to like them all.”
With the troop captain in the lead, they hurried up the stone stairway to the second floor of the commandant’s residence. Crossing the courtyard, they stepped over toys and around a baby nestled on a soft pillow in a large flattish bowl. From a rear room, they could hear Thuty’s wife, her voice raised in anger, berating a servant. The odor of burned onions permeated the air, attesting to a mishap in the kitchen, where the women of the household were pre paring a feast for the inspector and his party.