He knew then beyond all doubt that it was over, and that they had lost the battle. A fresh mass of enemy chariots was tearing in towards them. Where they had suddenly come from Nefer could not fathom. He had thought that Naja had committed all his vehicles. That did not matter now, for the battle was lost.

  'How many?' Nefer wondered, with black desolation filling his soul.

  Two hundred,' Meren guessed. 'Maybe more.' His voice was resigned. 'It is all over, Pharaoh. We will die fighting.'

  'One last charge.' Nefer shouted to the chariots nearest to him, 'On me the Blues! Death with glory.'

  They cheered him hoarsely and wheeled in on either side of him. Even Dov and Krus seemed imbued with new strength, and the thin line of Blue chariots tore in at the new foe, going to meet them head to head. As they closed they saw that the leading enemy chariot flew the pennant of a general, a centurion.

  'By Horus, I know him,' Meren cried. 'It's Prenn, the old sodomite.'

  So close were they now that Nefer also recognized the gaunt figure, with the black patch over one eye. He had seen him on the staff of King Apepi, in the temple at Perra when they had met to negotiate the treaty of Hathor. The same wondrous day that he had first laid eyes on Mintaka.

  'His arrival is untimely,' Nefer said grimly, 'but perhaps we can save the next generation of young boys from his amorous attentions.'

  He steered Dov and Krus straight at Prenn, trying to force him to swerve and offer a flank shot for his javelin throw. But as they came closer together, Meren shouted, startled, 'He flies the Blue!' Prenn's pennant was streaming back, directly away from them, which was why Nefer had not noticed it until this moment, but Meren was right: Prenn was flying the Blue of the House of Tamose, and all his chariots with him.

  Now Prenn slowed and held his right arm across his chest in salute to Nefer, and he shouted in a great voice that carried above the rumble of the chariot wheels, 'Hail, Pharaoh! May you live ten thousand years, Nefer Seti.'

  In amazement Nefer lowered the javelin he had been about to hurl, and checked his horses.

  'What are your orders, Pharaoh?' Prenn shouted.

  'What strange business is this, General Prenn? Why do you call on me for orders?' Nefer called back.

  'The Princess Mintaka delivered to me your message, and I have come to place myself under your command and to help you avenge the murders of King Apepi and Pharaoh Tamose.'

  'Mintaka?' Nefer was confused, for surely she was still closeted in the sanctuary of the temple in Avaris. But then his warrior instincts took over, and he thrust aside those thoughts. There would be time for such musing later. 'Well met, General Prenn. You arrive none too soon. Lay your chariot alongside mine and we will sweep this field from end to end.'

  They charged side by side, and Nefer's broken and scattered legions saw the blue pennants coming and heard the war-cry, 'Horus and Nefer Seti!' and the blaring of the ram's horn trumpets, and they took new heart. The Red squadrons of Naja Kiafan were in hardly better case and could offer only scant resistance as Prenn's fresh troops charged into them. They fought on for a while, but the heart was torn out of them. Some scrambled out of their chariots to kneel in the dust, hands raised in surrender, begging for quarter and shouting the praises of Nefer Seti. Their behaviour was infectious and spread across the battlefield, as the Red charioteers threw down their swords and knelt.

  Nefer quartered across the field, searching for Naja. In his heart he knew that the victory would not be complete until he had avenged his father's murder. He came back towards the stone breastworks where last he had seen Naja at the head of his charge. He rode through the debris and detritus of battle, the shattered and overturned vehicles, the wounded and dying men and horses, the scattered corpses. Although most of the enemy were killed or had surrendered, there were still small isolated groups fighting on. Nefer's men had no mercy on these and cut them down, even when they tried to surrender. Nefer intervened where he could to halt the slaughter, and to protect the prisoners, but his men were mad with battle rage, and scores more died before he could save them.

  He reached the stone breastworks and reined in Krus and Dov. From his height on the footplate he could see over the low wall into the narrow defile where he had trapped the forward legions of Naja's army. The smashed chariots were piled upon each other like the wreckage of a fleet thrown upon the rocks by a mighty storm at sea. Some of the horses had struggled to their feet and stood still tethered by the harness to their shattered vehicles. He saw a lovely bay mare standing on three legs with her off-fore broken by a slinger's clay ball, and near her a black stallion with its entrails dangling to the ground from a rent in its belly. Around each chariot lay the dead and the wounded. Some were still moving and weeping, calling to the gods and to their mothers for water and succour. Others sat dazed and slack-jawed with the agony of their wounds. One was trying feebly to pull out the arrow that was lodged deep in his stomach. Nefer looked for Naja's body among the dead, but all was confusion and many were buried in the wreckage. Then he picked out a flash of gold leaf, and the royal standard of Naja Kiafan lying in the dust and the puddles of congealing blood.

  'I must find him,' Nefer told Meren. 'I must know he is dead.' He jumped down from the chariot.

  'I will help you search.' Meren went to the horses' heads and tethered them to the wall. Nefer vaulted over the breastworks and scrambled over the other wreckage until he reached the golden chariot. It lay on its side, but the cockpit was empty. One of the horses was still alive, but both its front legs were broken, and it lifted its head and looked up at Nefer piteously. He took one of the javelins from the bin on the chassis, and killed the animal with a thrust behind the ear. Suddenly Meren shouted and stooped to pick up something from among the debris. He lifted his trophy high, and Nefer saw that he had found Naja's blue war crown.

  'The swine's body must be close,' Nefer called to him. 'He would not have discarded that. It means too much to him.'

  'Search beneath his chariot,' Meren called back to him. 'He might be trapped under it. I will help you lift it.' He came towards Nefer, scrambling over the wreckage, and at that moment Nefer caught a flash of movement from the corner of his eye. At the same instant Meren shouted an urgent warning: 'Look out! Behind you!'

  Nefer ducked and whirled about. Naja had risen from where he had been crouching behind the dashboard of the chariot. His shaven head was pale and shiny as an ostrich egg, and his eyes were wild. He still carried the blue sword of Tamose and he launched a double-handed blow at Nefer's head, but Meren's warning had saved him and Nefer ducked under the hissing blade. His own sword was still in the scabbard at his hip, but he carried the javelin with which he had delivered the coup de grace to the maimed horse. Instinctively he thrust at Naja's throat, but Naja was quick as the cobra that was his namesake and twisted aside. This gave Nefer a moment to reach for his own sword, but Naja stepped back and looked about him. He saw Meren coming to Nefer's aid with bared sword, and he saw the empty chariot hitched to the wall with Dov and Krus in the traces. He drove Nefer back with another thrust of the blue blade, then whirled and sprinted away. Nefer hurled the javelin after him, but the thong was not wound on and the throw was wide. Naja reached the wall. As he jumped over it he cut the horses free with a slash of the blue sword and leaped up on to the footplate. He did not have hold of the reins, but he seized the whip from the bin and lashed Krus and Dov across the haunches. Startled, the pair leaped forward together and within half a dozen strides they were both at full gallop.

  Behind them Nefer jumped to the top of the wall and saw Naja being carried away across the plain. He drew a long breath and whistled, the high piercing blast that Dov and Krus knew so well. He saw their heads go up, their ears prick and swivel towards him. Then Krus changed gait and swung into a tight turn, and Dov came smoothly round with him. The chariot was flung hard over in the turn and Naja had to clutch at the dashboard to prevent himself being hurled overboard. The pair of horses came pounding back towards where Nefer stood poised on the wall. Naja recovered his balance and held the blue sword at guard, ready to strike out at Nefer as soon as he came within reach. Nefer knew that his own bronze could never stand against that terrible blade. It would be certain death to throw himself on top of a swordsman of Naja's calibre armed with that weapon.

  As the horses swept by below him, Nefer leaped lightly on to Krus' back and with his knees steered him out on to the open plain still at full gallop. He glanced back and saw Naja climbing out of the cockpit. He edged out along the drive-shaft to get at Nefer.

  Nefer leaned down from Krus' back and with his own blade sliced the knot in the plaited leather rope that hitched the horses to the drive-shaft. The chariot was running free and veered off to one side. Naja's weight drove down the drive-shaft and the end of it dug into the soft earth. The racing vehicle was flicked end over end, and Naja was thrown clear. He struck the ground with his shoulder and even above the sound of hoofs and the shattering woodwork of the chariot, Nefer heard the bone break.

  Nefer turned Krus back, and they charged at Naja. He had climbed painfully to his feet and stood swaying, and clutching his damaged right arm across his chest. In his fall he had lost his grip on the hilt of the blue sword. It had spun out of his hand, and ten paces away from where he stood the point had pegged into the earth. The blade still quivered from the impact, and the wondrous blue metal threw slivers of blue light, and the jewelled hilt whipped from side to side.

  Naja staggered towards the weapon, but then he saw Krus bearing down on him, and an expression of utter terror turned his face the colour of cold ashes. He turned and started to run.

  Nefer leaned from Krus' back, plucked the sword out of the sand, and turned Krus in pursuit of Naja. Naja heard the rising crescendo of hoofbeats behind him, and looked back. The mascara had run down his cheeks like black tears, and terror distorted his features. He knew then that he could not escape the terrible vengeance that was bearing down upon him. He fell to his knees and lifted both hands in supplication. With a slap across the withers and a sharp whistle Nefer brought Krus to a plunging halt before the kneeling figure, jumped down and stood over Naja.

  'Mercy!' Naja sobbed. 'I yield to you the double crown and all the kingdom.' He crawled pitifully to Nefer's feet.

  'I already have that. I lack only one thing. Vengeance!'

  'Mercy, Nefer Seti, in the name of the gods and for the sake of your sister, the goddess Heseret, and the infant she carries in her womb.' Suddenly there was a dagger in his right hand, and he stabbed up viciously at Nefer's groin. Nefer was almost taken in, but he twisted away only just in time, and the point of the dagger snagged in the skirt of his chiton. Nefer struck the weapon out of his grasp with a flick of the blue blade.

  'I admire your constancy. To the very end you are true to your base nature.' Nefer smiled down on him coldly. 'I grant you the same mercy that you showed my father, Pharaoh Tamose.' He drove the point of the blue sword into the centre of Naja's chest, and it came out between his shoulder-blades. An expression of agonized disbelief played over Naja's face.

  'You have defiled this sacred blade. Now I will wash it in your blood,' said Nefer, jerked it free, then drove it in again deeply.

  Naja toppled face first into the dust, and drew one more ragged breath, but the air from his lungs bubbled out of the wound between his shoulder-blades and he shuddered and died.

  Nefer hitched the body by its heels to the traces that dangled from Krus' harness, then mounted and dragged it back across the field. The cheering followed him, wave upon wave, as he rode up to the gates of the fort. He cut the rope and left Naja's bloody corpse lying in the dust.

  'Have the usurper cut into separate parts and send them to be displayed in every nome in this land. Let every citizen of this very Egypt look upon the fruits of regicide and treachery.'

  Then he looked up to the figure who stood high upon the watch-tower of the fort, and raised the blood-smeared blue blade to him in salute. Taita lifted his right hand in acknowledgement and there was a flash of dark crimson light from the gemstone upon his finger, Naja's ruby ring.

  He was on the tower through the whole day. What part did the Magus play in the battle? Nefer asked himself. Would we have triumphed without his influence? There was no answer, and he put the thought aside. He mounted the ladder to the top of the tower and stood beside Taita. From there he spoke to his men. He thanked them for their duty and their bravery. He promised them their rewards, a share of the plunder to all, and the honours of rank and chains of gold and titles of valour to the captains and centurions.

  By the time he had named them all the sun was sinking through a low bank of purple thunderclouds towards the horizon. He ended his speech with a call to prayer: 'I dedicate this victory to the golden Horus, the falcon of the gods,' he cried, and as he prayed there was a strange omen. A fleeting ray of the last sunlight broke through the cloud bank and lit the tower of the fort. It glinted on the blue war crown on Nefer's head and on the blue sword in his hand.

  At that same moment there was a wild cry from above: every head lifted and every eye turned towards the sky. A great murmur and sigh went up from the multitude. A royal falcon hovered in the air above the head of Pharaoh, and as they stared in wonder it uttered that strange, haunting sound again, then circled three times, and at last shot away in a straight line on rapid, incisive wingbeats into the darkling eastern sky and was gone in the gloom.

  'A blessing from the god,' the soldiers chanted. 'Hail, Pharaoh! Even the gods salute you.'

  But as soon as they were alone Taita spoke softly, so no one else outside the room could hear his words. 'The falcon brought a warning and not a blessing.'

  'What is the warning?' Nefer demanded quietly, but with deep concern.

  'When the bird called, I heard Mintaka cry out,' Taita whispered.

  'Mintaka!' Nefer had forgotten her in the exigencies of the battle. 'What did Prenn tell me about her?' He turned to the entrance of the tent and shouted to the guards. 'Prenn! Where is the centurion Prenn?'

  Prenn came at once, and knelt before Pharaoh. 'You have earned our deepest gratitude,' Nefer told him. 'Without you we could not have prevailed. Your reward will surpass that of all my other captains.'

  'Pharaoh is gracious,'

  'At the start of the battle, you spoke of the Princess Mintaka. I thought that she was safe in the temple of Hathor in Avaris. Where did you last see her and when?'

  'Pharaoh, you are mistaken. Princess Mintaka is not in the temple. She came to me to bring your message. I could not bring her into battle with me, so I left her two days ago in my camp in the desert, on the road between here and the Khatmia.'

  A terrible foreboding seized Nefer. 'Who else did you leave in the same encampment?'

  'Some of the other royal women, the Princess Merykara, who had accompanied Mintaka, and Her Majesty Queen Heseret-'

  'Heseret!' Nefer sprang to his feet. 'Heseret! If Mintaka and Merykara are in her power, what will she do to them when she hears that I have slain her husband?' He strode to the door of the tent and shouted for Meren. 'Mintaka and Merykara are in terrible jeopardy,' he told him.

  'How do you know this?' Meren looked distraught.

  'From Prenn. And Taita has read a warning in the cry of the falcon. We must ride at once.'

  --

  Heseret awoke in the darkness and chill of that dread time before the dawn when all the world is at its darkest and the human spirit at its lowest ebb. At first she was uncertain of what had interrupted her sleep, but then she became aware of the faint sound of many voices, still far off but growing stronger. She sat up, letting the fur blankets drop to her waist, and tried to make sense of the distant hubbub. She was able to make out words now: 'defeated' and 'slain' and 'flee at once'.

  She screamed for her maids and two stumbled in to her, half awake and naked, carrying small oil lamps.

  'What is going on?' Heseret demanded, and the eyes of the women were wide and dark with incomprehension.

  'We know not, mistress. We were asleep.'

  'You stupid girls! Go and find out at once,' Heseret ordered angrily. 'And make certain the prisoners are still in their cage, that they have not escaped.' They fled.

  Heseret leapt from her bed. She lit all the lamps, then bound up her hair, pulled on a chiton and threw a shawl over her shoulders. All the time the din outside her stockade was growing louder, and now she could hear shouting, and carriages trundling past on the road, but still she made no sense what was happening.

  The two maids came scampering back into the tent. The eldest was breathless and almost incoherent: 'They say there has been a great battle at a place called Ismailiya, Majesty.'

  Heseret felt a great surge of joy. Naja had triumphed: in her heart she was certain of it. 'What was the outcome of the battle?'

  'We don't know, mistress. We did not ask.'

  Heseret seized the girl nearest to her by the hair, and shook her so violently that clumps came away in her hands. 'Have you not a speck of brain in your thick skull?' She slapped her across the face, and left her lying on the floor of the tent. She grabbed a lamp and hurried to the door.