his heart and choked his breathing. His days passed in hard work and he had only a short time to himself before sleeping in which to summon up, in his private chamber, the sweetest of memories, and to hover in imagination about the beautiful cabin on the deck of the royal ship that had witnessed, at the moment of farewell, the most blinding loveliness and tenderest passion. During such moments it would seem to him that he heard that melodious voice telling him, “Till we meet again!” — at which he would sigh from the depths of his soul and say sorrowfully, “When will that meeting be? That was a farewell that no reunion can follow.”
Napata in those days, however, was a fit place to make a man forget himself and his cares and focus his attention on whatever was most important and urgent. The men gave their all to their work, struggling unceasingly, and if the wind of Thebes sprang up and longing for those whom they had left behind its walls shook them, they sighed awhile then bent again to what they were at with increased determination and greater resolve. Days passed in which they could not believe that there was anything in the world but work, or anything in the future but hope.
The convoy returned with new men, who cheered as the first had cheered the day of their arrival and who shouted with the same excitement, “Where is our sovereign, Kamose? Where is our mother, Tetisheri? Where is our prince, Ahmose?” then joined the camp, to work and be trained.
Chamberlain Hur came to Prince Ahmose and greeted him. He handed him a letter, saying, “I have been charged with bearing this letter to Your Highness.”
Ahmose asked in astonishment as he turned the letter over in his hands, “Who is the sender?”
Hur, however, maintained a gloomy silence and an idea struck the prince that made his heart flutter, and he tore open the letter and read the signature. His limbs gave way and the fire in his heart flared up as his eyes ran over the lines, where he read:
As he finished reading the letter, Ahmose felt a blow like the thrust of a heavy spear into his heart and the ground seemed to shake beneath his feet. He shot a glance at Hur, who was regarding him closely as though trying to discover what was in the letter by reading his face.
Turning away from him, Ahmose continued on his way sorrowing and brokenhearted, telling himself how impossible it was that she would ever know what it was that had prevented him from coming back to her and how impossible it was that he would ever be able to communicate to her his grief and emotion. She would, indeed, always see him as the inconstant pygmy.
He kept his sorrows to himself, however, and none were aware of the struggle raging in his heart but the person closest to him: Nefertari. She was at a loss as to what to do — with him and perplexed as to what might lie behind his distractedness and absent-mindedness and at the look of sorrow that would appear in his lovely eyes whenever he stared ahead, looking at nothing.
One evening she said to him, “You are not yourself, Ahmose.”
Her remark disturbed him and, playing with her plaits with his fingertips, he said smiling, “It's just fatigue, my dear. Don't you see how we are engaged in a struggle fit to move solid mountains?”
She shook her head and said nothing and the youth put himself more on his guard.
Napata, however, allowed no man to drown in his sorrows, for work is the destroyer of care and the city witnessed miracles of work such as it had never seen before. Men were trained, ships, chariots, and weapons made, and convoys dispatched loaded with gold, to return loaded with men, only to be sent back and return once more. Long days and months passed until the happy, long-awaited day arrived and King Kamose, unable to contain his joy, went to his grandmother Tetisheri, kissed her brow, and said in joyful tones: “Good news, Grandmother! The Army of Deliverance is ready!”
2
The send-off drums sounded, the army formed itself into battalions, and the fleet raised anchor. Tetisheri summoned to her the king, the crown prince, and the leading commanders and officers and told them, “This is one of those happy days for which I have waited long. Tell your valiant soldiers that Tetisheri entreats them to set her free from her captivity and smash the shackles that bind the necks of all Egypt. Let the motto of every one of you be to ‘Live like Amenhotep or die like Seqenenra.’ The Lord Amun bless you and make your hearts steadfast!”
The men kissed her thin hand and King Kamose said to her as he bade her farewell, “The motto of all of us shall be ‘Live like Amenhotep or die like Seqenenra!’ and those of us — who die will die the noblest of deaths, — while those of us — who remain — will live the most honorable of lives.”
Napata, the royal family, and Governor Raum at its head, turned out to bid farewell to the tumultuous army. Drums beat, bands played, and the army moved, following its traditional order of march and preceded by a force of scouts bearing flags. King Kamose was in the vanguard of the army in the center of a ring of servants, chamberlains, and commanders, followed by the royal guard in elegant chariots. Next came a battalion of chariots, which proceeded rank after rank, further than the eye could see, their wheels sending a deafening squeal into the air, the neighing of their horses like the shrilling of the wind. After these came a battalion of heavy archers with their bows, coats of mail, and quivers of arrows, followed in their footsteps by a battalion of highly trained lancers with their lances and shields. Next was a battalion of light infantry, while the wagons of weapons, supplies, and tents, guarded by horsemen, brought up the rear. At the same time, the fleet, with its huge vessels, set sail, the soldiers that it bore equipped with all the weaponry they might need by way of bows, lances, and swords.
These forces advanced to the music of the band, excitement burning in their youthful, angry hearts, the terrifying sight throwing dread into hearts and minds. They marched all day, eating up the miles, and came to a halt when darkness fell, neither tired nor wearied, seeking help against the hardships of the road and the length of the journey from a resolve that could move mountains. On their way they passed by Semna, Buhen, Ibsakhlis, Fatatzis, and Nafis and they continued to march until they reached Dabod, the last Nubian town. Here the scented breeze of Egypt caressed their faces and they camped and set up their tents to take rest from the privations of the journey and prepare themselves for battle.
The king and his men plotted the first plan of invasion and they plotted it well. Ahmose Ebana, the most skilled man in the whole fleet, was given command of a part of it to take up to the borders of Egypt as though it were a convoy of the sort which the border guards had become accustomed to see pass in recent times. At dawn on the fourth day after the army's arrival at Dabod, the small fleet set sail, reaching Egypt's borders as day was breaking. Ahmose Ebana stood on the deck of the ship in the flowing robes of a trader. He produced the entry permit for the guards and took his fleet safely in. Ahmose knew that the border guard consisted of a few ships and a small garrison, so his plan consisted of taking the ships unawares and overpowering them, then laying siege to the island of Biga until the army and the rest of the fleet could enter Egypt. Thereafter it would be easy for him to strike Sayin before it could prepare itself to resist. The convoy proceeded in open formation and when it drew close to the southern shore of Biga, where the Herdsmen's ships were moored, the soldiers appeared on deck with bows in their hands, while Ahmose, throwing off his trader's cloak, appeared in the dress of an officer and ordered his men to fire their arrows at the men guarding the ships. The fleet approached the moored ships rapidly, swooped down upon them before help could reach them from the shore, and cast nets over them, while the soldiers jumped onto their decks to take possession of them. They clashed with the few guards who were to be found on board in a small battle and crushed them swiftly. During this maneuver, Ahmose's ship fired its arrows at the guards on the bank and prevented the soldiers from coming to the aid of their companions on the ships. Thus, the vessels were quickly subdued without high cost to the attackers and the fleet laid siege to the island to prevent contact with the cities of the north. The Biga garrison took note of the sudden maneuver and rushed to the shore, only to find itself surrounded and imprisoned, its small fleet captive.
The battle was barely over before units of the Egyptian fleet appeared, plowing through the billows on the horizon, its course set straight for the border. This it passed safely without meeting any resistance. Then it joined
