A serialisation

Part Three

Abbados was a warrior because he was good at it and a priest because he aspired to become high priest of the temple of Amon. As a son to a minor wife, he had been second favourite in his father’s house and had not been named Pharaoh. But he believed that being of royal blood he deserved a position of power and the high priest of Amon held the most powerful post in the land, after the Pharaoh.

Tutimaios had promised to appoint him to the post once he had banished the Aamu. But after having fought in four battles Abados was weary of the promise. There was to be another battle tomorrow. He could be killed and if not; would there be more fighting to come? What If Tutimaios fell despite the protection of the shield? He was after all, only one man and the battle tomorrow would be against an enemy that not only outnumbered them, but also was made up of men fresh to the field. What of his promises then?

‘My Lord.’ It was Kefu the camp guard commander, who disturbed is musings.

‘Yes, what is it?’

‘A message from the Syrian, My Lord. The new wines have arrived.’

‘Good, send him to my tent, I will be there once I’ve checked the shield.’

When not in use the shield was kept in a compound in the centre of the camp and was guarded by four men at all times. Two guarded the entrance to the tent that held the shield the other two were within. The outer guards stiffened at his approach and he nodded his approval as he passed between them. Inside the other two guards stood, one at each end of the table that held the shield. Abados moved to the table undid the fastenings of the leather carrying case and checked the shield. As always he marvelled not only at the craftsmanship but also at the feeling of power beneath his hands. Satisfied he refastened the case and left.

The Syrian merchant that waited for him outside his tent, scrambled to his feet and bowed low. Abbados ignored him, entered his tent and made himself comfortable, only then did he have his servant bring the merchant in. Under normal circumstances a member of the royal household would never deal directly with a merchant. But this was a battle camp and this particular merchant dealt in exceedingly fine wines.

‘Well, what have you got for me this time?’

‘One of the finest wines my country has ever produced and a message from someone who wishes you well, My Lord.’

‘Let me try the wine first, we will discuss the message later.’

The Syrian filled two goblets and handed them to Abbados’s servant. He tasted them both. After a suitable interval the servant offered both goblets to his master.  Having made his selection Abbados waited until the Syrian had drained his goblet before sipping his own wine.

‘Ah, a very fine wine indeed, how many skins have you?’

‘Six, My Lord.’

‘Very well, mark them as mine and have them delivered in the morning,’

The Syrian nodded and looked as if he was about to say something, but Abbados shook his head and said, ‘Come, let us walk.’

Outside the Prince pulled his cloak tight against the chill of the desert night and strode off, while the merchant hurried to keep up.

When he was sure they were on their own Abbados spoke, ‘Well?’

‘My Master bids you greetings…’

‘Get on with it man.’

‘Ben…’

‘No names, fool!’

The Syrian began again, ‘ My Master, bids me tell you that should you deliver the item to him this night, you will have his full backing in your bid.’

The prince’s eyes gleamed. When the Syrian had first approached him on behalf of Beno the leader of the Aamu coalition, he had been tempted, but undecided. To take up the offer – While it would give him the power he craved – would mean betraying his brother Tutimaios and he hesitated to do so. Not so much out of love for his brother, more out fear of the consequences of failure. Should he stay loyal to his brother and eventually become the second most powerful in the land. Or should he ally himself with the enemy and become Pharaoh.

In the end his greed for power won the day and his decision was made.

‘I will deal with the guards and bring the shield. Have everything ready and I will meet you three hours from now.’

‘My Lord there will be a bodyguard and a guide waiting for you in the baggage lines.’

Back in his tent Abbados laced a wine skin with a large quantity of white powder. The tasteless powder obtained by burning red, yellow and grey marbled rocks, was another import brought in by the Syrian.

When he arrived later that night for his second inspection, he smiled as he passed between the outer guards; the men seemed mesmerised by the wineskin he carried. The two inside were no better, their eyes never leaving the skin as he carried it over and placed it on the table next to the shield.  ‘Call in the other two, I wish to address you all,’ he ordered.

When all four were assembled, he spoke, ‘I have brought you a small gift so that you can toast our forth coming victory.’

The eldest, a hook nosed character with blackened teeth, spoke, ‘beg your pardon, My Most Esteemed Lord, but we should be decapitated should we leave our posts or drink on duty.’

Abados smiled the smile of a crocodile and shook his head, ‘No you won’t, I am your commanding officer and I order you to drink. Beside it is a small skin, hardly enough to wet your throats. Now drink and I will wait guard on the outside while you do so.’

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