refuses your offer of surrender, don’t you?” he said. “Oh, Kamose, I do know, I do understand. I was not able to reason it all through before. But it is horrible.”
Kamose could not reply. He was suddenly cold and the hand that rose to silently grasp his pectoral was shaking. Amun, have pity on me, he begged his totem. It is horrible indeed.
They tethered the boats loosely to the western bank but no ramps were run out. At once Kamose dispatched scouts in the skiffs and then retired to the cabin, but he could not sleep. Neither could Ahmose. They lay side by side in the dimness, each knowing by the speed of the other’s breath that unconsciousness was eluding them. There was nothing to say. Kamose thought of the woman of his dreams, escaping briefly into a fantasy he missed and longed for, and he had no doubt that his brother’s thoughts were with Aahmes-nefertari, surely lying peacefully asleep on the couch they had shared with such joy in the house whose tranquillity they had forfeited in order to save it.
Yet in the end he must have dozed, for he came to himself at the sound of footsteps crossing the deck. Shaking Ahmose gently by the shoulder, he answered the request to enter, and Akhtoy’s head appeared around the curtain, haloed in the light of the lamp he held. “The scouts have returned, Majesty,” the man said. “I have ordered a meal to be brought to you.”
“Good.” Kamose rose, his joints cracking. His sleep had not refreshed him. He felt heavy and slow. “Let them also break their fast, Akhtoy, and while they eat I want to shave and bathe. Tell Hor-Aha to gather the Princes.”
“How late is it, Akhtoy?” Ahmose asked. He too was on his feet, tousled and yawning.
“Ra will rise in about five hours, Highness,” the steward replied, and placing the lamp on the floor of the cabin, he retired.
“The scouts made good time,” Ahmose remarked. “Gods, I am weary! I dreamed that all my teeth were rotten and falling out one by one.”
“It is a false vision of impotence, nothing more,” Kamose said. “After Dashlut it will not return.”
They held a hurried meeting with the General and the Princes on the shrouded bank. Night still hung thick and unrelieved around them as the scouts made the report, laying out for them the plan of the town and the details of the small garrison fronting the Nile. “There can be no more than thirty Setiu soldiers within it,” Kamose was told, “and we saw no watch. Dashlut will offer little resistance.”
“Very well.” Kamose turned to Ankhmahor. “I will not need Shock Troops yet,” he said. “Therefore I ask you to fall back and shadow my boat to the east. Hor-Aha, take my western flank with the Medjay craft close around you and have the Followers board my boat at once. Let us go.”
He stood in the prow with Ahmose, the royal bodyguard crowding stiffly around and behind them, as Ra moved ponderously and invisibly towards his birth and the miles slipped away, taking with them the last shreds of his fatigue. To his left, the oars of Hor-Aha’s boat made rhythmic grey smudges on the dark surface of the water. To his right, he could faintly hear the slap of the current against Ankhmahor’s craft, and to his rear he could sense the comforting presence of the remainder of the Medjay, their bows unslung, the black pebbles of their eyes questing the darkness before them. Mutely he began his morning prayers, and by the time Dashlut slid into view, limned in the fleeting softness of a pearly dawn, he was ready.
His ramp and the ramps of his flanking boats were run out and a contingent of Medjay had their arrows trained on the unsuspecting garrison before anyone in the town was aware of their presence. But they did not have long to wait. Two young women appeared, empty water jugs on their heads, chattering to each other as they made their way towards the river. They halted, dumbfounded, as the morning shadow of the three great hulks bristling with
Kamose could not reply. He was suddenly cold and the hand that rose to silently grasp his pectoral was shaking. Amun, have pity on me, he begged his totem. It is horrible indeed.
They tethered the boats loosely to the western bank but no ramps were run out. At once Kamose dispatched scouts in the skiffs and then retired to the cabin, but he could not sleep. Neither could Ahmose. They lay side by side in the dimness, each knowing by the speed of the other’s breath that unconsciousness was eluding them. There was nothing to say. Kamose thought of the woman of his dreams, escaping briefly into a fantasy he missed and longed for, and he had no doubt that his brother’s thoughts were with Aahmes-nefertari, surely lying peacefully asleep on the couch they had shared with such joy in the house whose tranquillity they had forfeited in order to save it.
Yet in the end he must have dozed, for he came to himself at the sound of footsteps crossing the deck. Shaking Ahmose gently by the shoulder, he answered the request to enter, and Akhtoy’s head appeared around the curtain, haloed in the light of the lamp he held. “The scouts have returned, Majesty,” the man said. “I have ordered a meal to be brought to you.”
“Good.” Kamose rose, his joints cracking. His sleep had not refreshed him. He felt heavy and slow. “Let them also break their fast, Akhtoy, and while they eat I want to shave and bathe. Tell Hor-Aha to gather the Princes.”
“How late is it, Akhtoy?” Ahmose asked. He too was on his feet, tousled and yawning.
“Ra will rise in about five hours, Highness,” the steward replied, and placing the lamp on the floor of the cabin, he retired.
“The scouts made good time,” Ahmose remarked. “Gods, I am weary! I dreamed that all my teeth were rotten and falling out one by one.”
“It is a false vision of impotence, nothing more,” Kamose said. “After Dashlut it will not return.”
They held a hurried meeting with the General and the Princes on the shrouded bank. Night still hung thick and unrelieved around them as the scouts made the report, laying out for them the plan of the town and the details of the small garrison fronting the Nile. “There can be no more than thirty Setiu soldiers within it,” Kamose was told, “and we saw no watch. Dashlut will offer little resistance.”
“Very well.” Kamose turned to Ankhmahor. “I will not need Shock Troops yet,” he said. “Therefore I ask you to fall back and shadow my boat to the east. Hor-Aha, take my western flank with the Medjay craft close around you and have the Followers board my boat at once. Let us go.”
He stood in the prow with Ahmose, the royal bodyguard crowding stiffly around and behind them, as Ra moved ponderously and invisibly towards his birth and the miles slipped away, taking with them the last shreds of his fatigue. To his left, the oars of Hor-Aha’s boat made rhythmic grey smudges on the dark surface of the water. To his right, he could faintly hear the slap of the current against Ankhmahor’s craft, and to his rear he could sense the comforting presence of the remainder of the Medjay, their bows unslung, the black pebbles of their eyes questing the darkness before them. Mutely he began his morning prayers, and by the time Dashlut slid into view, limned in the fleeting softness of a pearly dawn, he was ready.
His ramp and the ramps of his flanking boats were run out and a contingent of Medjay had their arrows trained on the unsuspecting garrison before anyone in the town was aware of their presence. But they did not have long to wait. Two young women appeared, empty water jugs on their heads, chattering to each other as they made their way towards the river. They halted, dumbfounded, as the morning shadow of the three great hulks bristling with
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