The Horus Road by Pauline Gedge

in prayer at Thoth’s temple under the wary eye of the High Priest who had so sharply refused Kamose and himself entrance to the inner court. Now he and Ramose leaned together against the rail, watching the bustle of Khemmenu’s wharves in the dusty red haze of sunset. No smell of burning flesh, Ahmose thought. No splashes of blood in the sand, on the white walls, no debris in the streets; it is as if we dreamed it all, Kamose and I. Time and the thrusting force of life itself has closed over the wounds.
    “What of Nefrusi?” he asked with an effort, wrenching his mind away from a contemplation of the past that was in danger of becoming a habit. Ramose laughed and shook his head.
    “Nefrusi has become a tidy little village full of competent farmers,” he said. “I believe that this year the Setiu soldiers are competing with one another to see who can thresh the most grain in the shortest time. Will you go there, Majesty?” Will I? Ahmose repeated the question to himself. Do I want to stand on the spot where your father fell, where thousands of bodies were dragged across the sand to be fired? I was sick to my soul almost every day and Kamose moved and spoke like someone who had been buried alive.
    “No, I do not think so,” he said slowly. “I will greet the officers in charge there, but on the bank.” He turned to his friend. “Ramose, I want you to assume the governorship of the Un nome. I have already drawn up the document making you an erpa-ha prince. Fold up your tent and take possession of the estate where you were raised.” Ramose paused for a long while before he answered. Then he looked Ahmose full in the face.
    “Such an offer is right and honourable, Majesty,” he said. “I deserve both the title and the property. I will indeed move into the house my parents loved and tended, and I will govern the Un nome under the edicts of Ma’at. But I know what you have done to every other noble in positions of administrative authority. You have emasculated them,” and here he used a common expression used by the peasants to describe the removal of a man’s testicles, “and the control over their jurisdictions has gone to the so-called advisers you are placing by their sides. I know what has caused your wariness and I think you are wise. But if I am to order Khemmenu and its nome I will do so with stewards and overseers of my own choosing, not yours. Either I am to be trusted or not.” He had not spoken angrily or resentfully. His features were as calm as his words. Ahmose nodded.
    “Good!” he said brightly. “I had no intention of having you spied upon, Ramose. Neither you nor Ankhmahor nor Turi. You will not hear me call my servants spies in public but I do so to you, for spies they will be until such time as my godhead is secure. Take the nome freely.” Ramose let out a gust of relieved breath.
    “Thank you for your confidence, Ahmose,” he said. “Let me reciprocate. Unless you give me a specific command, I will not take up my responsibilities here until the war is over. I desire to remain beside you.” Ahmose’s gaze narrowed.
    “You still hope to see Apepa dead and Tani back in your arms, don’t you?” he remarked quietly. Ramose’s mouth became a thin line. Stepping away from the rail he bowed shortly, turned on his heel, and walked away without replying. Ahmose watched him stride down the ramp and mingle briefly with the crowds on the dock before disappearing through the open city gates. You are either mad or holy, dear Ramose, he mused. Either way you are the most stubborn man I have ever known. It would never occur to you that perhaps Tani is no longer worthy of such frightening, uncompromising devotion.
    That had been two days ago, and now Ramose, together with Turi, Hor-Aha, Kagemni, Baqet and the other generals, sat around a large table under the shade of a canopy a stone’s throw from the Nile. Behind and around them the divisions continued to straggle into Het nefer Apu, where