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.
At the door of the commandant’s private reception room, they saw that Amonked had arrived ahead of them. Seated with Thuty amid a clutter of toys, stools, and baskets filled with scrolls, he occupied an armless wooden chair that looked suspiciously like the one Nofery had acquired from
Waset. Had the commandant, who would not give up his own chair for anyone of less importance than the viceroy, borrowed her treasure in recognition of his guest’s lofty position?
“I must admit I’m looking forward to going home,”
Amonked said, smiling at the newcomers. “To seeing my wife again, to sleeping in my own bedchamber, to having at my beck and call servants and scribes who fill my days with ease and comfort.”
“I regret our inability to provide such luxuries,” Thuty said in a wry voice.
“I’m in no way being critical, Thuty. I understand the limitations of distance and difficult passage.” Amonked gave the younger officers a satisfied smile. “I should. After all, I trod many miles through this land of Wawat along a desert trail unfit for any but the most hardy-man and beast alike.”
“Frankly, sir, you surprised us all.” Bak, pulling up a stool, tempered his words with a smile. “When first we saw you, we thought you’d never forsake your carrying chair.
Instead, you seldom used it, allowing Thaneny to ride in stead.”
“Thaneny.” Amonked’s demeanor grew sorrowful. “He, like Sennefer, wanted to see the world beyond Waset.
Should I feel glad I allowed him a few weeks of enjoyment, or should I regret for the rest of my life that I brought him along?”
Bak could think of no answer other than to point out that
Thaneny had been spared a lifetime of yearning for a woman who treated him with disdain. Still, was not the world a better place to dwell than the netherworld? He kept the thought to himself.
Nebwa, clearing toys from a low bench and drawing it forward, cut through the uncomfortable silence. “I, for one, would never have guessed you’d one day stand at my side, dagger in hand, holding off a contingent of thieving tribes men. You never once mentioned you knew how to use that or any other weapon-and with skill, too.”
The inspector patted his stomach. “I wasn’t always this plump, you know.”
“I wish you were returning to Waset with more to show for your effort,” Thuty said, frowning at Bak and Nebwa, clearly referring to the many men they had allowed to re turn to the desert and the escape of Hor-pen- Deshret.
Amonked raised a hand, halting the reproach. “I’ll shoulder the blame if blame is to be had. It won’t be the first time I’ve stood before our sovereign empty-handed, nor will it be the last.”
“I pray she doesn’t hold it against you when you rec ommend that our army continue to occupy the fortresses along the Belly of Stones. You will make that recommen dation, won’t you?” The commandant seemed never to hear often enough the reassurance he sought.
“With Hor-pen-Deshret free, I can do no less.” Amon ked’s eyes met Thuty’s with no hint of deceit.
Bak and Nebwa exchanged a conspiratorial glance.
Thuty noticed, gave them a thoughtful, rather suspicious look. He had the good sense to remain silent.
Bak stood with Nebwa and Seshu atop the towered gate that opened onto the central quay, an ideal vantage point from which to watch the departing flotilla. Thuty, standing on the quay with the priests of the lord Horus of Buhen and the same local princes who had welcomed the inspector so long ago, waved a farewell. Amonked, on the deck of his ship, returned the salute as his sailors stowed away the gangplank. Imsiba stood behind the official
