"Good," Meren said.
Horemheb grunted and sliced at reeds with his riding whip. "Enough of these pleasantries. I've let you be long enough, Meren, and you know why the king's majesty sent for you."
"Your mood is as foul as that of a wounded ox," Meren said.
Tanefer chuckled. "He's unaccustomed to someone disagreeing with him. He spends all day with soldiers who do nothing but agree and all night with a wife who sees nothing but perfection in him."
Meren held up a hand before Horemheb could retort.
"I know my fortnight is up, old friend." He glanced at the river to see that the king's skiff was almost with them. "Where is Maya?"
This time Horemheb snorted like one of the chariot horses. "Hiding. You know how he dislikes proper argument. He sent word that the burdens of harvest recording would keep him away from the council for a few days."
Meren forbore from mentioning that Maya had invited him to his house for the afternoon meal. He was accustomed to the treasurer's wriggling out of situations in which he would have to directly confront more forceful characters than himself. And Horemheb was by far the most forceful of the king's councillors, emphasizing his points and views with growls, shouts, and hammerings of any object within his reach. Yes, Maya disliked such violent manners. If Horemheb was losing his temper frequently, Maya would bolt into a hole until the warrior calmed a bit.
As the general opened his mouth to question Meren again, the king's skiff came aground. Councillors, priests, and officers bowed, but Tutankhamun ignored them, leaped ashore regardless of water and mud, and stomped toward the group that included Meren. As he reached them, he signaled to Meren and kept walking.
"Lord Meren will attend my majesty. Tiglith, water."
The king's Syrian body slave darted forward with a golden cup. Tutankhamun snatched the cup and kept walking. Meren gave Tanefer and Horemheb an inquiring glance, but they shook their heads. He followed the king to the shade of a palm tree, wishing he was with Kysen inquiring into a simple priest's death.
"Well?" Tutankhamun said as soon as he reached the tree.
"What is thy will, O golden one?"
"Don't pretend you don't understand what I'm asking, Meren."
The king emptied the cup of water down his throat, and Meren took the cup from him.
"Very well, majesty."
"Then what's your answer? Do we campaign next year?"
"It is necessary, divine one."
He saw the spark that glinted in the boy's eyes and inhaled deeply. "However, I can't recommend that the golden one lead the campaign without first giving him at least some prior experience."
That spark fanned into a fire, and the king's jaw began to work.
"And just how does the golden one obtain battle experience without going into battle?"
"Indeed, majesty, thy heart guides thee to the crux of the question." Meren rushed on as Tutankhamun began to swear under his breath. "Therefore I recommend that thy majesty begin to attend small campaigns against the bandits and renegades that plague our villages from time to time, and perhaps the greater ones conducted against the barbarian tribes of Kush that threaten our southern forts."
The king burst into smiles, then laughed and clapped Meren on the back. "I knew you would change your opinion."
Meren held up his hand. "A moment, majesty. There is more."
"What is it?"
"If thy majesty excels in these maneuvers and encounters, all will be according to thy wish. But if not…"
The king made a rude gesture such as all boys make. "By my ka, Meren, you're a worrying grandmother. I'll do excellent well."
Meren felt a twinge of remorse for the way he closed in on the boy, but he did it anyway. "Then the divine one will deign to give me his word that, should ill befall him in these skirmishes, he will abide by my decision to keep him from battle for another year?"
The smile vanished. "You tricked me."
"No, majesty," Meren said. "Consider this a wager between the two of us. Against a year's delay, you wager that you'll gain the skill necessary to lead the army by the end of Inundation next year."
"Horemheb, Tanefer!" the king shouted.
The two men ran over to them while the king began to stomp back and forth in front of Meren. When they arrived, he pointed at Meren and glared.
"He's tricked me. I must practice at war on thieves and barbarians."
Meren inclined his head. "The divine one has seen the wisdom of gaining experience in small skirmishes against bandits and the southern tribes before facing the trained armies of the Asiatics."
Meren could see that Tanefer was having difficulty suppressing his amusement, but Horemheb gave him a sharp look before he replied.
"Lord Meren but recommends the course of training followed by all great warriors, including himself, majesty. It's the path followed by Thutmose, the Conqueror, thy mighty ancestor."
He would have to thank Horemheb when they were alone, for Tutankhamun's anger vanished at once.
"The Conqueror, you say? I didn't know."
Tanefer slid into the conversation with the ease of the royal skiff floating on the Nile. "And of course it's the path followed by this humble subject and General Horemheb as well."
"There is more," Meren said. "Thy majesty must consult the records of battle contained in the House of Life, those of the Conqueror, of the great Ahmose who freed Egypt from the foreign Hyksos, and certain reports from my intelligencers regarding the practices of the Hittite armies."
His voice faded as an idea formed. He would send agents north to the outposts in Syria with instructions to capture Hittite officers alive; perhaps he would go there himself to question them.
"Excellent," Tutankhamun was saying. "At last we advance. This endless quibbling was about to drive me mad. What else must we do?"
"Thy majesty must issue orders for the calling up of reserves," Meren said. "All the soldiers who have been allowed to return to their homes and lands must be summoned."
"And I must begin to recruit more men," Horemheb added.
"Which means," Tanefer said, "that the divine one will hold a great Enrollment of Recruits."
Meren nodded his agreement. "Then, of course, we must inventory all weapons and equipment and issue orders for more, and then all the troops must train even as thy majesty trains. There's much work to be done."
The king grinned and set out in the direction of his tent. "And after it's done, I will go to war."
Meren exchanged glances with Tanefer and Horemheb. None of them was smiling.
Ebana walked into the House of Life with Rahotep. Qenamun was a few steps ahead of them. Rahotep had returned with them to the temple to obtain a new book of dream interpretations from Qenamun, who was known for his power in interpreting the ancient scripts and magical signs. Rahotep was detailing his latest grievance, which was that the king hadn't given him an important command in Kush, the lands to the south of Egypt and the source of the rivers of gold that flowed into the royal coffers.
Qenamun paused to speak to one of the scribes in charge of making copies of the Book of the Dead. Ebana pretended to listen to Rahotep while he speculated upon the meaning of Kysen's sudden appearance in the quay market earlier. The boy had said that the house of Unas had been searched and disrupted. How had he found out? Meren must have alerted the city police of his interest in any matters pertaining to the dead priest. Or his spies had told him. Meren indeed had spies everywhere.
And now his cousin's attention had been drawn once again to the temple, and to the priesthood. Ebana called down the wrath of Amun upon whatever demon was causing his ill fortune. What was worse, Kysen now blamed him for that incident of the falling bricks. Why couldn't the boy simply realize that old walls crumble and masonry falls?