Eye of the Moon (23 page)

“I
am
your sister!”

“You'll train alongside the men, but whether you go into battle is another matter. The commander will decide. But first I need to persuade him to take the three of you on.”

Anoukhet tossed her head. “I don't want to be treated differently. Why not remain silent? You don't have to reveal we're girls. Nor do you have to reveal Tuthmosis's identity. Let the commander think we're Nubian boys come to join the Kushite army!”

Katep shook his head. “Because you're not all three Nubian. The Kushites work on truth. The commander must know the truth from the start. He'll decide whether you stay or not. It's not just a question of the two of you being girls, it's a question of having a prince of Egypt—the
enemy—
among us.”

Tuthmosis shook his head. “I'm not the enemy of Kush. The Kush and I have the
same
enemy—Egypt. I want my kingdom back and I'll fight to get it by any means. Even if I have to first defeat my own Egyptian army. The Egyptians are under the orders of the traitor, Wosret!”

“You'll have to prove you're the son of Amenhotep, the rightful crown prince.”

My hands dropped to my side. Suddenly I was afraid. “He can't do that! If he proves he's the son of Amenhotep, your commander might decide to kill him. As you said—Egypt is the enemy.”

Katep shook his head. “I give you my word. Tuthmosis needs first to prove his kingship. Then we'll persuade the commander that the high priests, by making his brother illegally king, have once more shown their greed and shown that the power of Egypt needs to be stopped. The commander
doesn't want the land of Kush to come under Egypt's rule so Egypt can claim all her riches—her gold and copper and ivory and ebony. He wants war with Egypt. This will give him his excuse.”

I turned to Tuthmosis. “How can you prove who you are? You carry no identity. Your cloak and broad collar were left on the other boy in the wabet chamber in Thebes.”

Katep glanced at him. “Is there nothing?”

“I've this.” He removed something from his girdle bag. “My royal pectoral. It has my insignia on it.”

I glanced at him. Of course, this was what Ta-Miu had given to him at the palace. She'd handed him something as we were leaving.

Katep ran his fingers over the fine gold filigree with its lapis lazuli, turquoise, and carnelian inlays. Two falcons clutched Tuthmosis's name in a cartouche. The cartouche itself rested on the largest green emerald I'd ever seen. It was in the shape of a sacred scarab, the one who rolls the great sun across the sky. The heart amulet of a king.

“Perfect. Let's speak to the commander. Hang it around your neck so all will know who you are.”

Anoukhet looked skeptical. “What's to stop the
commander from thinking it's been stolen? An emerald that size would be worth stealing. And dressed like this, he's more scruffy thief than prince.”

“I have a tattoo on my upper thigh that shows the same insignia.”

“The Kushites will use you as their pawn,” Katep warned. “You'll have to convince them you can be trusted. They'll protect you, but only if you give them what they want—freedom from the yoke of Egypt.”

When they were gone, I spun around to face Anoukhet. “So? What do you think?”

She raised her eyebrows and looked at me quizzically.

“What do you think of Katep?”

She turned away and marched up and down, pretending to inspect the bows and weapons.

“Well?”

“He's interesting,” was her only reply. Then she turned around with a mischievous sparkle in her eye. “It's not just
us
who'll have to prove ourselves.
He'll
have to prove himself, too. Let's see what he's like in battle.”

The sun had set over the desert by the time Katep and Tuthmosis returned. The soldiers were already lighting fires as the cool green light of evening crept up.

“What did he say?” I asked as they stepped through the opening of the canopy. “Can we stay?”

Katep shook his head. “Tuthmosis can, but not the two of you.”

“What? Why should it be different?”

“Let me finish. Not until the men in my phalanx have decided about having two girls in camp. It's them who'll have to put up with you,” he said as he withdrew from the canopy again.

Anoukhet's eyes flashed. “Ha! Put up with
us
!”

But I knew Katep was teasing her.

We tried to listen as best we could, but mostly we couldn't hear what was being said. At one time there was raucous laughter. I heard Katep say it was Anoukhet who had shot the arrow into the post. A single voice bellowed out, “She's a damn fine shot, then!” Then there were more shouts.

“But she's Nubian,” Katep argued.

We could hear some arguing and a few “no no no”s, then some more boisterous laughter.

When he came back in, his face was serious.

“Well?”

“I told them you were useless with a bow and arrow, Kara.”

I glared back at him. “Only a brother would be so brutally honest. Could you not say I was skilled with a throw-stick?”

“How would a throw-stick help in battle? You'd fell one man, then what? Your weapon would be gone!”

“So what was their answer?” Anoukhet demanded.

Katep couldn't keep a straight face any longer. He broke into a broad grin and burst out laughing. He handed Anoukhet her lost dagger. “There. It was decided on the strength of your bow shot and by the quality of your dagger that you
both
can stay.”

I should have been cross with Katep. Instead I clasped him about the neck. He pulled my hands away. “Behave, Isikara. You're a soldier now.”

   
23
   
FLETCHING

S
o it was settled. We began training alongside the men, but all the time I was mindful of Katep's warning—Anoukhet and I probably wouldn't go into battle. We were learning skills for our own protection. I sensed it wasn't easy for Tuthmosis. He had to work hard to earn the soldiers' trust and friendship. It was eventually his strength and ability with a bow that won them over.

It was different for Anoukhet and me. Katep gave
up his canopied platform for us to sleep in. After dark we were left alone. But by daylight we were soldiers. And the men looked skeptical at the idea of two girls handling bows. They treated us as something of a novelty, like two exotic animals that belonged in a palace menagerie rather than an army camp. Strange creatures that couldn't quite be trusted to behave as expected. They gave us furtive looks and watched our every movement.

Each morning we assembled before the sun had risen with goose bumps on our arms. We stood shivering in rows while our phalanx was inspected by Katep. If a bow wasn't oiled to a gleam or properly strung with the right sinew, or an arrowhead was blunt, or a strap of a quiver worn or the grip of a shield frayed, we were punished alongside the rest of the men and made to do extra camp duties. It made no difference that we were girls.

We were expected to take part in everything—sword sparring against heavy bollards that hung from poles, javelin throwing until my arm felt as if it would fall off, and ax techniques that left me terrified and breathless. The only exercise we escaped was pulling heavy posts through the sand by thongs
tied to the head, for strengthening the back muscles.

Katep took it upon himself to personally train us with the composite bow. He stood next to us hour after hour demonstrating the stance and the pull. He'd relearned his skills and pulled the bowstring with his left hand now. He used his wooden right limb with its pronged fork at the end to hold the curve of the bow.

There was much to remember.

“Relax, Kara. Bend your knees. Don't hold the bow arm straight out. Have it slightly bent at the elbow. Don't throttle the bow with your grip. When you draw back, keep an anchor point at your cheek, like a tooth that you touch with your bow fingers, so you can mark the place you pull back to.”

He showed no brotherly favoritism. There were days when my body was so tired I almost begged to go on kitchen duty. But I realized it was for our own safety that he took so much trouble to reprimand me.

“Draw back harder, Isikara. Lay your body into the bow. Use your back muscles. A bowman's aim is to pull back so hard that the tips of the bow ends almost meet. You have to have power in your back and legs—like Anoukhet.”

“Curse you, Anoukhet! It's easier for you with
your dancer's legs!” I hissed under my breath at her. Then I squinted against the glare and struggled yet again to pull back the taut sinew, until my back, shoulders, and arms ached with fatigue.

The bows were stiff and made of wood and polished ibex horn. They stood almost sixteen hands high. More than the height of a man.

Fine, for someone as tall and strong as Anoukhet.

Impossible for me.

In the evenings, in the privacy of our canopy away from the men, I sprawled out on my mat and ranted. “I hate this! I'll never be a bowman!”

Anoukhet smiled. “Let me rub oil into your shoulders. It'll ease the pain.”

“It's not just my shoulders. Every part of my body aches. And there are blisters on my hands. My thumb and middle finger are worn raw from pulling back the sinew.”

It was Tuthmosis who showed me sympathy before Katep. He arrived one evening with two stone rings. “Wear them on your thumb and middle finger to take away the bite of the sinew.”

Anoukhet's eyes sparkled. “How romantic! Stone rings instead of jeweled ones!”

Tuthmosis came to fetch me one evening. “I want to show you something.”

He led me past the soldiers' fires to the far side of the camp where an old man was boiling two cauldrons of foul-smelling brew.

“Not supper, I hope?”

Tuthmosis smiled. “This is Kha. He's been making bows and arrows all his life. I've asked Katep if you can be his assistant.”

I flashed a look at him. “
What?
So it
is
cooking you've set me up with, after all!”

The old man eyed me. “It's horn and bone I'm boiling, not
food
. Ibex horn is boiled to soften it for flexibility.” He nodded at the other cauldron. “And those are hare bones boiling to make a sticky stew that will keep the layers of horn and wood together to make a strong and flexible bow. The jelly also keeps the cover bindings of bark and sinew in place so everything is held together tightly. The stickier the stew, the better it holds.”

He sized me up. “Longbows are difficult to make, especially composite bows. You don't look strong enough! There's rumor in the camp. It's said you're a girl. But that matters not to me.” He chuckled toothlessly.

“She's skillful with her hands. She'll be good at bow making.”

The old man frowned at me from under his thick brows, then nodded. “Once you make a mistake—and you'll make plenty—you have to throw the bow away and start again. There's no sense in finishing a bow that's already scuppered. It's useless trying to right a bow that you know will never shoot properly. Bows need respect.”