The Amarnan Kings, Book 1: Scarab - Akhenaten by Overton Max

Author:Overton, Max [Overton, Max]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Writers Exchange E-Publishing
Published: 2010-09-05T16:00:00+00:00

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Chapter Nineteen

Unseasonal rains in the hills and mountains to the east and north swelled the streams to bursting point, flooding the plains to the north of Gezer in a sheet of muddy brown water. The floods receded quickly, soaked up by a parched and sandy soil but the plant life of the region, geared to the vicissitudes of an arid climate, burst forth in the water's wake, creating another flood that covered the plains in green. The herds followed and increased: sheep, goats and cattle, the nomads of the dry regions spreading out to follow the gift of the gods. Others trailed the herds--predators--animal and human alike.

Jebu the Amorite had prospered over the years. A successful captain in King Aziru's informal army, his ruthless attacks on Kemetu troops, his persistent depredations of defenseless farmers, and his atrocities against villagers in the north of Syria brought him to the notice of the king himself. Gifts and honours followed, and increased power. Once the leader of a handful of cutthroats and bandits, he now controlled half a thousand men who were slowly being shaped into a disciplined fighting force.

Aziru's patronage had brought Jebu power and wealth--his armbands were now gold rather than copper and he drank wine as often as beer--but at heart he was still a bandit chief. He much preferred to leave the organization of his small army in the hands of his officers, Aram, Simyras and Jezral, and head off into the hills with a small band of men for a bit of relaxing rape and slaughter.

On one such trip, Jebu found himself overlooking the coast road a day's hard horse-ride north of the Kemetu garrison city of Gezer. Normally, the traffic on the road, despite being the only true route north out of Kemet, was light. Caravans passed north and south, the rich ones guarded well by mercenaries, the poorer ones almost unguarded but scarcely worth the trouble of taking. Spices, faience, trinkets and carved wood may bring a decent profit if you were a trader, but what was an honest bandit to do with a camel load of such things? Once the traders had been killed and their women enjoyed then killed, the only gains were the meager handfuls of copper and occasionally silver they carried. Spices were tipped out onto the dusty ground to mingle with the blood, pottery smashed and everything else burned. Sometimes a trinket or knife with a fancy hilt caught the eye, but generally there was little to show for one's efforts. Still, it was better than drilling the men or organizing food and equipment for Aziru's fledgling army.

A rasping cough broke through Jebu's concentration and he turned from his contemplation of the deserted coast road to look at his friend and lieutenant, Aram. His forehead furrowed in concern at the sight of the man doubled over and retching. One or two of the men supported the Amorite officer and offered a flask of water.

Aram waved the water away and straightened, panting.

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