showing you off as she would a favored pet.”
The two guards snickered.
Hor-pen-Deshret exploded, fury suffusing his face. With a growl of rage, he leaped toward Amonked. Bak lunged, shoving him aside. Nebwa grabbed his sound arm, jerked it high up behind him, and forced him to his knees. The guards came to life, hurrying forward to do their duty.
“I won’t be made to look the fool!” the tribesman shouted. “Take my life. Hang me from the prow of your greatest warship. Treat me as the warrior I am.”
“Our sovereign must be given something to show for the battle we fought,” Nebwa said.
Amonked leaned forward, the better to make his point.
“Do you wish her, in the depths of anger because I pre sumed to let you and all your men walk free, to send her armies into the desert to slay every man they come upon, take into captivity their women and children, and take their flocks to Kemet to be sacrificed to our gods?”
“You have that wretched sailor, Captain Minkheper, the man who slew Prince Baket-Amon. Will she not be content with him?” Through the defiance, an edge of sullenness crept into Hor-pen-Deshret’s voice.
“Minkheper must be taken to Ma’am, where he’ll stand before the viceroy. Baket-Amon’s widow must see him charged with her husband’s death and she must see him die for it. Only then will she willingly bend a knee to our sov ereign.”
“So I stand alone.”
“You’ve done enough harm, Hor-pen-Deshret. You must pay.”
“I’d rather die than play pet to your sovereign. To any woman.”
“Either you submit to her or you’ll be impaled, a long and agonizing death, I’ve been told.”
The tribal chief stared at Amonked, made speechless by the force of his words. Seeing no hint of forgiveness on the inspector’s face, no sign that he would relent, the tribes man’s eyes slid away and his shoulders slumped. Bak sor rowed at the once-brave warrior’s downfall, but he could not be allowed to rise again, to steal peace and tranquillity from the land of Wawat for many years to come.
“We’ll stay another day before we move on to Semna.”
Amonked stopped midway along the sloping rock-strewn path that linked the main gate and the river. “The very thought of treading the desert trail so soon is abhorrent.”
Bak and Nebwa, following in his wake, stopped with him. The trio looked across the narrow channel toward the west bank. Men and women toiled in the fields that had been trampled in the battle, salvaging what they could. An imals grazed on the wild grasses and brush along the irri gation ditches and on the higher reaches. A peaceful bucolic scene that made one forget that violence had reigned less than twenty-four hours earlier.
“If you’re to complete your task, you must travel on sooner or later,” Nebwa said.
“Sooner rather than later, I fear.” Amonked sighed. “I’ve told Nefret that she must remain here. She, her maid, and my dog. I see no reason to drag any of them upriver. I plan to leave behind most of the furniture and other objects we brought along. With no pavilion for shelter and no ameni ties to speak of, Nefret would suffer intensely, feeling in ordinately vulnerable and fearing every small sound in the night.”
“A wise decision, sir.” Bak glanced back at the high towered wall rising above them and the massive gate at the upper end of the path. “She seems to get on well with
Ahmose’s wife.”
They walked on, descending the path to the river and the skiff Ahmose had loaned them for the duration of their stay.
Amonked strode past the boat to stand at the water’s edge.
The smell of fresh-cut clover wafted across the gentle swells like a perfume of the gods. The inspector seemed not to know what to say, and his failure to speak stifled
Bak’s power of speech and Nebwa’s.
Finally he turned to face the two officers. “I’ve sent a complete report to Commandant Thuty, as you know, and another to the vizier. You saw the courier off yourself.”
Giving the pair before him a searching look, the inspector added carefully, “I see no immediate reason for you to re turn to Buhen-unless you choose to.”
Bak threw him a surprised look. “Are you suggesting we remain with the caravan, sir?”
“I’ve talked with Lieutenant Horhotep and he agrees that the inspection party is sorely in need of your expertise and good sense.”
Nebwa looked incredulous. “Horhotep agrees?”
Amonked’s mouth twitched, betraying a smile. “I could issue an order that you travel on with us, but I’d rather not force you against your will.”
“What of Captain Minkheper?” Bak asked. “We expected to escort him to Buhen.”
“He can remain here, under guard.”
“I suppose we could take him with us. His task remains undone. He has yet to see the river between here and
Semna.”
A far-off honking drew Amonked’s eyes toward a for mation of wild geese, dark spots flying north high above the river. “He’s convinced, as I am, that the rapids below
Iken run for too long a distance and are too mighty to be breached. He’s preparing a report to explain the conclusion.
Our sovereign will have to be satisfied with that.”
Bak had heard many times of Maatkare Hatshepsut’s in sistence on having her way, whether or not the object or deed she desired was the best choice or even made sense.
He himself had been the victim of her wrath. He had to admire Amonked, who seemed untroubled by the thought of facing her with news she did not wish to hear.
His thoughts leaped back to the inspector’s suggestion that he and Nebwa remain with the caravan. As far as he was concerned the trip upriver would be no hardship. With
Imsiba in charge of the Medjays at Buhen, they were in good hands. The journey would give him an opportunity to visit garrisons he had never had a chance to see, and he could make good use of the additional time to prepare for his appearance with Minkheper before the viceroy. His friend, on the other hand, was a man with responsibilities.
He was second-in-command of Buhen, accountable for the well-being and training of the men in the garrison, and he was a devoted husband and father.
Nebwa must have guessed Bak’s thoughts, for his eyes began to twinkle and he assumed a pose of exaggerated severity. “I haven’t taken a look at the fortresses south of here for over two years. It’s about time I did.”
“So you see,” Bak said, “you’ll remain at Askut while we’re gone. We’ll stop by on our way north to pick you up. You, Hor-pen-Deshret, and Nefret.”
Minkheper formed a crooked smile, one of forced humor.
“I’d hoped to see the Belly of Stones in its entirety. Did you have to snare me before we reached Semna?”
Bak occupied a campstool beside the portable bed on which the captain sat. The room, given fresh air and light by two small, high windows, was located on the second floor of the commander’s residence. Of a good size and opening onto a central courtyard, built to serve as a room for lofty guests in a fortress seldom visited by anyone of high status, it was used for storage by Ahmose’s wife. She had provided the bed to acknowledge Minkheper’s rank but at his urging, had shoved woven reed chests, tall wine jars and beer vats, and baskets filled with imperishable food stuffs against the wall. The smell of spices mingled with onions and wine and grain, tickling Bak’s nose.
“Would that you’d never offended the lady Maat, Min kheper.” He studied the prisoner, unable to understand and all the sadder for it. “I see you as a good and brave man, one who slew another good man to appease a god I know not, to follow a custom foreign to me. I’d set you free if I could, exile you to a distant land. But, like you, I must obey the will of my gods. The lady Maat. The lord Amon.
All the deities of Kemet great and lesser.”
Minkheper ran his fingers through his sunny hair, tried another smile. “Believe me, if I could repeat that
