The Oasis Read Free

looming hulk of the boat and the still-dark water lapping so close to them, taking them out of this moment and this circumstance and placing them on some other, more mysterious plane. Kamose was unwillingly reminded of their gathering before the joint funeral of his father, Seqenenra, and his twin brother, Si-Amun, both casualties in different ways of this terrible conflict. Seqenenra, who had first been grievously injured by an assassin’s vicious attack and then later slain in that intial, abortive battle, and Si-Amun, dying by his own hand after betraying his father’s plans to the enemy. The same cloud of mute resignation hung over them now and seemed to enfold him as he came up to them and halted.
    For a while they simply looked at him and he regarded them in turn. There was everything and yet nothing to say and whatever word might be ejected into the cool air would inevitably sound trite. Yet the emotions filling each one, love, anxiety, fear, the pain of separation, thickened the space between them and in the end drew their bodies together. Arms around each other, heads lowered, they rocked slowly as if they too were a craft of Egypt, adrift on the bosom of unknown waters. When they broke apart, Aahmes-nefertari’s eyes were large with tears and her hennaed mouth quivered. “The High Priest is on his way,” she said. “He sent a message. The bull that had been selected for sacrifice this morning died in the night and he did not think that you would want to choose another. It is a terrible omen.” Panic knifed through Kamose and he did not fight its sudden sting.
    “For Apepa, not for us,” he objected firmly. “The usurper took to himself the title of Kings, Mighty Bull of Ma’at, and in slaying a bull today we would have been not only binding Amun to our aid but also making the first move in destroying the Setiu’s power. However, it is dying of its own accord. There is no need to slit its throat here on the watersteps. The omen is good, Aahmes-nefertari.”
    “Nevertheless,” Tetisheri broke in tartly, “you must make sure that the soldiers do not hear about it, Kamose. They are too simple to fathom such a sophisticated reason for what they will see as a future disaster. I will inspect the remains of this beast myself when you have gone, and order it burned so that any negative influence its death may have will not linger. Do not forget the hawk, Aahmes-nefertari, and try not to start and tremble at every sign or you will end up seeing portents in the lees of your wine and calamities in the dust whorls under your couch.” The harshness of her speech was belied by the rare smile that lit her creased face.
    “You all believe that I cannot be strong,” the girl said, “but you err. I do not forget the hawk, Grandmother. My husband will be King one day and I shall be Queen. It is for Kamose that I start and tremble, not for Ahmose or for myself, and he knows this. I love him. How could I not then be afraid, and watch for the omens that will tell of victory or defeat? I only say aloud what you all think in your hearts.” She turned to Kamose, her chin high.
    “I am not a child, dear brother,” she said defiantly. “Prove the omen wrong. Wield the sacred power of a King before which all omens of doom melt into nothing.” He could not answer either the force of her words or the agony in her face. Bending, he kissed her and turned to his mother. Aahotep was pale under her paint.
    “I am a daughter of the moon,” she said in a low voice, “and my roots are in Khemennu, the city of Thoth. Teti is my kinsman. You know this, Kamose. If you are wondering what you will do there, if you are afraid of meting out justice because Teti’s blood is also mine, do not worry. If the city proves recalcitrant, purge it. If Teti fights you, slaughter him. He corrupted Si-Amun on behalf of his master, Apepa, and deserves to die. But before you move against either, sacrifice to Thoth.” A tiny, bitter smile twisted