Flaming Sword A Novel of Ancient Egypt

Chapter One Prisoner number 1790 collapsed, face down in the mud. Big-Feet had lost the will to live. After all these years in the death-camp at Sharuhen, in Canaan, the last of his strength had finally drained away.Sharuhen was the rearward base of the Hyksos, who had occupied Egypt for more than a century and who had set up their capital at Avaris, in the Delta. Their supreme commander, Emperor Apophis, was not content merely to use his army and security forces to impose a reign of terror. Approving a tempting idea dreamed up by High Treasurer Khamudi, his faithful right-hand man, he had set up a prison camp at the foot of the fortress of Sharuhen, in a marshy and unhealthy area. In winter the winds were ice-cold, in summer the sun was mercilessly hot, and always the place was infested with mosquitoes and horseflies."Get up," urged Prisoner 2501, a thirty-year-old scribe who had lost a fifth of his body weight in three months."I can't go on any longer. Leave me alone.""If you give up, Big-Feet, you'll die -- and then you'll never see your cows again."Big-Feet wanted to die, but he wanted even more to see his herd again. No one knew how to care for his beasts the way he did.Like many others, he had believed the Hyksos' lies. "Come and graze your scrawny animals on the lush Northern grasslands," they had said. "Once they are in good health again, you shall return home." In fact, the Hyksos had stolen the herds, killed any herdsmen who protested, and thrown the others into the death-camp at Sharuhen.Big-Feet would never forgive them for separating him from his cows. He could have borne extra work, forced labor, arduous marches through the flooded lands, a pitiful recompense, but not that.Prisoner 1790 clambered to his feet.Like his companions in misfortune, he had suffered the horrible ordeal of being branded with his prison number, all the other prisoners being forced to watch. Anyone who turned away or closed his eyes was executed on the spot.Big-Feet could still feel the appalling pain of the red-hot copper branding-iron. The louder the victim screamed, the longer the torture lasted. Several of the wounded had died from infection, because at Sharuhen there were neither doctors nor nurses, and no one was given the slightest care. Had he not been strong, naturally lean and accustomed to getting by on little food, the herdsman would have died long ago. At Sharuhen, big eaters lasted only a few months."Here, have a little stale bread."Big-Feet did not refuse the sumptuous gift offered by his friend, who had been sent to the camp for keeping a hymn to Pharaoh Senusret in his house. Denounced by a neighbor, the scribe had been condemned as a dangerous conspirator and deported immediately. Emperor Apophis, the self-proclaimed pharaoh, did not permit references to Egypt's glorious past.A frail little girl approached the two men. "You haven't got anything to eat, have you? I am so hungry."Big-Feet was ashamed to have swallowed the scrap of bread so quickly. "Didn't the guards give you your rations today?" he asked."They forgot me.""Didn't your mother ask them?""She died last night."The child turned and went back to her mother's corpse. No one could do anything for her. If someone took her under their wing, she would be snatched away instantly and thrown to the whims of the mercenaries at the fortress."There's another convoy arriving," said the scribe.The heavy wooden gate of the camp swung open, and the new prisoners straggled in. A tall woman with enormous hands was hitting some of the old men with a club, even though they could scarcely walk. One of them collapsed, his skull fractured. The others tried to hurry, in the hope of escaping the blows, but the Hyksos torturers did not spare a single one.Eventually, astonished still to be alive, the strongest of the new arrivals got up very slowly, afraid of yet more torments. But their torturerJacq, Christian is the author of 'Flaming Sword A Novel of Ancient Egypt', published 2005 under ISBN 9780743480505 and ISBN 0743480503.