Andre Norton - Shadow Hawk by Shadow Hawk

boldness and an end to lurking!" It seemed to Rahotep that her eyes went to the rug as if her words were meant as an encouragement to someone else also.
    Shortly thereafter he was graciously dismissed, and his return to the house of Sa-Nekluft was engineered in the same manner as his earlier departure. If the treasurer or his son knew about that secret expedition, they said nothing, and Rahotep gathered, without its being told him, that the whole surprising episode was to be kept to himself. Later he found his way to Methen's room and, under the pretext of learning more about Theban life and the undercurrents to be found in the city, asked the veteran questions to build up a background into which he could fit the personages he had met that evening.
    Methen spoke of the Royal Mother with the deepest respect. As the Heiress she would have been queen whatever betided, but she had been queen in fact as well as in name. To her influence was attributed her husband's resistance to the Hyksos, and now her son's open rebellion. The Royal Wife Ah-Hetpe, her daughter, was of the same independent mind. Sekenenre, himself, though as yet untried in any great battle, had the foresight of an able administrator, and his son, the Prince Kamose, was a leader of value—
    "And the Prince Ahmose?" questioned Rahotep.
    For the first time Methen shook his head. "Ahmose is very young, unproven. It is rumored that he has petitioned Pharaoh for a command in the campaign. The Prince Kamose, as Royal Heir, is the one men look to for leadership."
    But when Rahotep was stretched on his couch late that night he wondered. He had felt the impact of the Prince Kamose's personality there on the quay true enough. But there was something elusive in that Royal Son, a consuming fire within his slender body, as if he were a flame igniting a palm frond, burning fiercely, yet as quickly gone. But Ah- mose was different, the same drive and purpose but on as solid a base as the young prince's stronger body. Kamose could fire men to victories, but he would waste himself cruelly in the process. Ahmose would set to battle methodically, as a man would follow a trail, and in the end the same victory would be his and he would still be fresh.
    Rahotep swung his feet from the couch and sat up, staring into the dark. How he knew this, or why, he could not have explained. But in that moment he was certain that if he had any choice in the future, it would be to serve under Ahmose. And, as if he had made the necessary decision, he straightway found the sleep that had eluded him earlier.
    The summons to assemble his men and march them to the field of warriors came early the next morning via Nereb. Since the heat of the day was such that the sun punished those laboring under it, any training must be held before Re's Boat was in mid-sky. The northern commander had put aside his dress uniform and appeared in the simple kilt of a field officer, marching beside Rahotep as a guide.
    Yellow dust was churned up from the broad expanse of the level, sun-baked soil where chariots seesawed into line. The impatient stallions reared and squealed, and then, at the flash of their commander's baton, thundered across in a spearhead formation led by the vehicle of the Prince Kamose. Rahotep, watching that charge, could now well understand the downfall of Egyptian arms when such an advance had been turned on spearmen and bowmen by the Hyksos who had poured into the Two Lands generations earlier. But also he could estimate, with eyes narrowed against the sunlight, how a company of well-placed archers could deal havoc. A horse, even when galloping, was a larger target than a man. Pick off the horses and your chariots would crash and foul against each other. Your spearhead would crumple in upon itself.
    Kheti's archer-wise eyes had marked that as quickly. "A volley from the right and left, Lord," he remarked, "and those wheels would cease to turn. Though I grant you they have speed, and the archers would