Out of the Black Land - By Kerry Greenwood Page 0,121
as light auxiliaries. They can fight if they need to, eh, Kheperren?’
My sweet love grinned at the general and touched the lock of white hair which covered the scar.
‘Your men will not be sent on the Aten’s business, my dear General, because they will be needed to guard your person, which is valuable and cannot be hazarded,’ said Widow-Queen Tiye. ‘There is nothing to stop you making a visit for me to Tushratta’s court, is there, taking a present to the old ally of my husband?’
She drew off a very heavy and valuable arm ring, embossed with the discredited symbol of Sekmet, She Who Loves Silence, the blood-drinking lion-headed avenger. She tossed it to the general who caught it deftly and stared at it.
‘I am ordering you, General, to take this arm ring to my old friend Tushratta with this message:
The Mistress of Egypt Tiye sends greetings to Tushratta of Mittani, and bids him remember that a lioness is more dangerous than a lion.
‘Will you do this, General?’
‘Lady,’ the general left his chair and knelt down at the Queen’s feet. ‘I will deliver your message.’
‘To Tushratta in person, mind, wherever he may be. You should try his border with Khatti. And try to kill Suppiluliumas if you can, he’s very ambitious.’
The grin was now very broad but the general merely replied, ‘Lady, I am your slave.’
‘I know,’ said the older woman dryly. ‘I may ask you to carry further messages for me. In fact, the Great Royal Scribe here will draw up a document which will authorise you to be anywhere at all with your thousand men, on my personal business. While I am alive, no one will interfere with you. When I am dead you must manage as best you may.’
That was my cue, obviously, to rise and get papyrus and wax for a seal. Kheperren and I wrote a commission from the Widow-Queen Tiye in the broadest and vaguest of terms, added a translation into two other languages underneath and carried it to the lady Tiye with a little pot of warmed wax for her approval. She read it, demanded a translation of the other parts, sloshed wax over the bottom and rolled her personal seal along it. I had not realised that Sekmet Destroyer of Mankind was her deity, but that goddess had a very fitting devotee in the Widow-Queen. That seal said to everyone, down to the meanest peasant who could not read in any language, that this scroll had come from the Great Royal Spouse Mistress of the Two Lands Widow-Queen Tiye and it would be much better to obey the bearer.
Still on his knees, General Horemheb accepted his commission with both hands and kissed the Widow-Queen’s feet.
‘You may do another task for me, if you will lend me your scribe,’ said the Widow-Queen, and Kheperren shot me an alarmed look. He was scared to death of the lady Tiye.
‘You may have him for any task which does not compromise his honour or risk his life,’ replied the General, replacing his gigantic frame in the chair of state.
‘Take my daughter Mutnodjme and allow her to walk in Amarna with your escort,’ the old queen smiled at my lady. ‘I want her report on these Priests of Aten. I need to find a reliable one for my sister widow Merope. She is young and wishes to marry again,’ said the Queen.
‘Do not women walk alone in Amarna?’ I asked in surprise.
‘No, my dear scribe, they are constrained to stay at home, mind their children, be an ornament for their husband’s house. A woman alone is hissed at as a whore, and may be attacked. A woman walking with a soldier, on the other hand, is safe. Wear subdued clothes, daughter, and do not stare any man in the face.’
‘Why not?’ objected Mutnodjme. ‘How am I to judge if he is a good man or not if I cannot see his eyes?’
‘Listen to his voice and watch his hands,’ the Widow-Queen informed her. ‘Discuss with your sister Merope as to what sort of man would meet her desires. It would be wise to do this quickly. When are you bidden to be gone, General Horemheb?’
‘Two decans, lady, for I am required to wait until the first reports come back as to the progress of the work in destroying the cult of Amen-Re and advise Pannefer as to further action.’
‘Good.’
‘Lady,’ said Mutnodjme, ‘Why cannot Kheperren take my sister Merope out to find her own husband?’