water created. Kamose had warned him not to stray too far from the boats, feeling his seniority as he did so, but Ahmose had merely grinned, shot his brother an oblique look, and sauntered off, his throwing stick in one hand and his rod trailing from the other. It is no use worrying about him, Kamose had thought, watching him go. Somehow the gods protect him and I envy him their especial attention. Would that we could change places, he and I!
The afternoon passed uneventfully enough. Kamose debated whether or not to call in his officers but decided that he would council with all of them, including the Princes, in the morning. He drank a little beer, played a board game with Akhtoy, and spent a rather sad hour reminiscing about his father with Hor-Aha. He walked the zone of safety he had ordered established on the west bank beyond the boats and spoke briefly to the sentries, and on his way back to the river he noticed several tiny groups of women and children begging furtively from the Medjay who had gone ashore to dice with each other or simply lie in the cool grass under the trees. He was momentarily annoyed. Dashlut had not been robbed of its stores. Nor had its crops been destroyed. The women had plenty of food both for today and next year but perhaps, he mused as he ran up the ramp of his boat, they beg not so much for food as for a small acknowledgement of what the archers took away from them. What I took away from them, he corrected himself. Bread and the green shoots of new barley are no compensation at all for the lonely nights and empty days that lie ahead for them.
Ahmose did not return until just before sunset. Kamose was beginning to worry about him when his skiff was spotted tacking swiftly from the east bank. Soon he was bounding exuberantly up the ramp, calling for beer and gracing his brother with a wide smile. He lowered himself onto the stool beside Kamose, and taking the wet linen his servant had immediately offered, he mopped his face. “Did you catch many fish?” Kamose enquired, his concern turning to relief. Ahmose looked at him blankly for a moment, then his expression cleared and became sheepish.
“Fish? No, they were not biting, Kamose, so I decided to have a look at Khemmenu instead.”
“You did what?” Relief became anger. “How stupid can you be? Supposing you had been recognized and captured, Ahmose? The town is surely on the alert! We have scouts to shoulder that danger!” Ahmose tossed the cloth into the basin the servant held out and took a long swallow from his beer cup.
“Well, no one saw me,” he said obstinately. “Really, Kamose, do you take me for a fool? I approached it when every sensible inhabitant was snoring away the afternoon heat. Shemu has begun and it will get hotter. The scouts make good reports, but I wanted to see for myself whether or not Khemmenu had changed since I was there last and if any preparations had been made following the warning the Dashlut survivors have certainly given by now.” Kamose did not want to ask him what he had seen. Furiously he wanted to punish his brother for his escapade by refusing to betray any interest at all, but with a great effort he swallowed his ire.
“Please, Ahmose, do not do such a thing again,” he managed. “What did you see?”
“Khemmenu has not changed at all,” Ahmose replied promptly. “It is still very beautiful. The palms are the biggest in Egypt and cluster together more thickly than anywhere else. Is it the soil do you think, Kamose? The dates are forming nicely.” His gaze slid sideways to his brother and he laughed. “Forgive me,” he went on. “Sometimes I feel compelled to exaggerate the very traits in myself that you find the most alarming. Or endearing.” He drained the beer and set the cup beside him on the deck. “The roofs of the buildings are crowded, mostly with women and a few soldiers, all looking south,” he told Kamose. “Word of our coming has definitely reached them. There are
The afternoon passed uneventfully enough. Kamose debated whether or not to call in his officers but decided that he would council with all of them, including the Princes, in the morning. He drank a little beer, played a board game with Akhtoy, and spent a rather sad hour reminiscing about his father with Hor-Aha. He walked the zone of safety he had ordered established on the west bank beyond the boats and spoke briefly to the sentries, and on his way back to the river he noticed several tiny groups of women and children begging furtively from the Medjay who had gone ashore to dice with each other or simply lie in the cool grass under the trees. He was momentarily annoyed. Dashlut had not been robbed of its stores. Nor had its crops been destroyed. The women had plenty of food both for today and next year but perhaps, he mused as he ran up the ramp of his boat, they beg not so much for food as for a small acknowledgement of what the archers took away from them. What I took away from them, he corrected himself. Bread and the green shoots of new barley are no compensation at all for the lonely nights and empty days that lie ahead for them.
Ahmose did not return until just before sunset. Kamose was beginning to worry about him when his skiff was spotted tacking swiftly from the east bank. Soon he was bounding exuberantly up the ramp, calling for beer and gracing his brother with a wide smile. He lowered himself onto the stool beside Kamose, and taking the wet linen his servant had immediately offered, he mopped his face. “Did you catch many fish?” Kamose enquired, his concern turning to relief. Ahmose looked at him blankly for a moment, then his expression cleared and became sheepish.
“Fish? No, they were not biting, Kamose, so I decided to have a look at Khemmenu instead.”
“You did what?” Relief became anger. “How stupid can you be? Supposing you had been recognized and captured, Ahmose? The town is surely on the alert! We have scouts to shoulder that danger!” Ahmose tossed the cloth into the basin the servant held out and took a long swallow from his beer cup.
“Well, no one saw me,” he said obstinately. “Really, Kamose, do you take me for a fool? I approached it when every sensible inhabitant was snoring away the afternoon heat. Shemu has begun and it will get hotter. The scouts make good reports, but I wanted to see for myself whether or not Khemmenu had changed since I was there last and if any preparations had been made following the warning the Dashlut survivors have certainly given by now.” Kamose did not want to ask him what he had seen. Furiously he wanted to punish his brother for his escapade by refusing to betray any interest at all, but with a great effort he swallowed his ire.
“Please, Ahmose, do not do such a thing again,” he managed. “What did you see?”
“Khemmenu has not changed at all,” Ahmose replied promptly. “It is still very beautiful. The palms are the biggest in Egypt and cluster together more thickly than anywhere else. Is it the soil do you think, Kamose? The dates are forming nicely.” His gaze slid sideways to his brother and he laughed. “Forgive me,” he went on. “Sometimes I feel compelled to exaggerate the very traits in myself that you find the most alarming. Or endearing.” He drained the beer and set the cup beside him on the deck. “The roofs of the buildings are crowded, mostly with women and a few soldiers, all looking south,” he told Kamose. “Word of our coming has definitely reached them. There are
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