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true, but not yet ready to be broken by the harshness and brutality of war. He has killed, but the killing was still somehow a part of that dream in which he lives. It is not time yet for him to awaken. “My brother will be the last surviving male of the House of Tao if I die,” he said instead. “Si-Amun left a son but he is still a baby, and Egypt will need a man to continue the fight. Ahmose will not be cossetted into cowardice, but neither do I want him exposed to danger unnecessarily.” He stared unseeingly at his fingers that now curled into fists. “My Grandfather Osiris Senakhtenra Glorified left a son and three grandsons. Now only two of us remain.”
    “Your reasoning is understandable,” Ankhmahor commented. “The gamble you take is terrible, Majesty. We Princes will only lose our lands and our lives if you are defeated, but the House of Tao will lose divinity.” Kamose glanced at him sharply but read only sympathy under the shadows playing across his face.
    “Then let us refuse to consider any such thing.” Kamose forced his fingers apart and relaxed, smiling at the man. “Tell me what weapons you have, Ankhmahor, and then I must sleep before an early start in the morning.”
    They talked desultorily for a further hour while the torch burned low and the wine jug was emptied. Kamose decided to leave Aabtu’s men where they were, to be gathered into the rest of the army as it passed through. Ankhmahor’s store of weapons, though more comprehensive than that of Intef, was still disappointing. Only the Setiu garrisons of the north would yield what Kamose needed, and only the Medjay archers could so far be relied upon to get it for him.
    He thanked the Prince for his hospitality and returned to his skiff through the tranquil night. Falling into an exhausted slumber, he did not hear Ahmose come aboard in the early hours of the morning and did not wake until he felt the craft tremble under him as it left its mooring and the rowers fought to turn it against the current. “I knew Ankhmahor would be more than acquiescent,” Ahmose said as, over their meal of freshly grilled fish, salad and bread, Kamose related to him the conversation by the pool. “He has courage and besides, as a scion of one of our most ancient families he can be assured of an important post when you set up your court at Weset. This fish is good, is it not?” He gestured with his knife on the point of which a piece steamed. “I thoroughly enjoyed catching it and I gave the others to Ankhmahor’s younger son for the family to eat. He is intelligent, that boy. He wanted to know all about Tani and what you will do with her when you have liberated Het-Uart.” He grinned happily across at Kamose’s bewildered frown. “Don’t worry,” he went on with his mouth full. “I explained about Ramose and added that the best way to further one’s ambitions in these unpredictable times was on the field of battle. Was Ankhmahor able to furnish us with more than a few blunt swords and a handful of rakes, Kamose?” I love you but I do not know what to make of you, Kamose thought fondly as his brother chattered on. Is your artlessness a studied pose to hide a swiftly building complexity beneath or are you truly guileless? Well, I would trust you with my life as I would trust no other. You are a favourite of the gods and with that I must be content.
    They rejoined the army on the evening of the third day and received Hor-Aha’s report as soon as they disembarked. The divisions were taking shape, but were still a long way from being the tight fighting units Hor-Aha and Intef envisioned. The peasants’ response to commands was slow but increasingly willing. Pride in their cohesiveness was beginning to sprout and the grumbling had diminished. For three days they had drilled and feinted at imaginary enemies. “But no one has told them yet that as well as Setiu those enemies will include their fellow Egyptians,” Hor-Aha pointed out as he squatted