Late one night, when we were perhaps three days march from Heliopolis, I awoke and felt the need to pass water. I arose from my sleeping mat and went forth a short distance from the camp, passing the bronze cages where the mighty shapes lay quiet in the darkness. As I stopped to let the water pass I felt a strange feeling as of ice upon my back, that I was not alone. When I turned and looked I saw that one of the Beasts had woken, its head high, its eyes shining red in the night, like temple lamps. I cried out in fear, for in that first moment I believed a demon had come for me. But the Beast’s eyes closed slowly then opened again and I knew then that it watched me. I remembered the words of the Centurion after our first defeat by the Beast. The eyes of the Djinn he had told us, able to see in darkest cave and deepest night. My mind swirled with strange thoughts. Could it be that the Beast was not of this world? Why was it here? And why did the Pharaoh wish to save it from destruction? I returned to my sleeping mat and sat upon it, and watched the Beast while the moon moved across the heavens.
After a short time I ventured nearer the cage and, as I walked, the Beast’s huge head turned to follow me, its eyes red and unblinking. It was this night that I came to know the Beast’s night sight, and that its eyes were stronger in the night than in the day. To test this sight I ran to my sleeping mat and took my eating bowl, and while I ran I saw the Beast’s eyes follow. I returned to the cage and saw that the Beast was watching, then cast my eating bowl into the darkness. The Beast’s head rose and turned as its eyes followed my bowl through the night. To me this explained many things. The red eyes of the Beast, that wept and ran in the bright sun, why each day the Beast would lie sleeping, unmoving, for many hours. The Beast was a night dweller, one that lived in the darkness, and roamed the sands while men slept. This truly was a strange animal and I returned to my sleeping mat filled with fear. I did not tell my comrades of what I saw, but it did not matter, as they would come to know well the Beast and its strange ways in the days to come.
* * *
A storm darkened the heavens on the night we came to Heliopolis. As we journeyed through the empty streets, deep in the bowels of the night, the lightning flashed above us, thunder crashing, the streets bright as daylight for but a moment, then of a darkness so deep as that of the tomb. Our feeble torches fluttered in the rain and wind. We knew a great misery for all were hungry and cold. When would this ever end?
It was a night of bad omens. Twice we halted to repair the broken leathers of the oxen. And once when the wheels of a wagon sank deep into the sodden earth. The rain fell in sheets of ice upon our shoulders. No lamps burned at the street corners. All houses were shuttered and dark, the only sounds in the night the creaking of the wagon wheels and the rattle of the cages. Our feet sank deep into the mud as water washed through the streets, filled with waste and filth. I had lived many years in Memphis and thought it of some beauty, but the carelessness of other dwellers sometimes confused me, turning streets into dung heaps, oft running with rats and other vermin, the mud so thick as to reach above the straps of my sandals. The streets of Heliopolis were also awash with filth. It would never be so in front of my father’s house.
As we journeyed through the streets of Heliopolis I knew we neared the port, for the smell of the sea grew strong in our noses. And when at last the Centurions halted our wagons, we stood upon the merchants’ quay at the Port of Heliopolis, where carved stones as large as a granary rose so high that a ship could come beside them and goods be passed easily to and fro. I recall that I stood in awe, for our wagons had halted close to the side of a mighty ship, the like of which I had never seen. True, I had seen the dhows upon the Nile since a child, and once, when travelling with my uncle Bibi to the port, I saw a strange ship from the Land of the Keftiu. It was much larger than the dhows, more than a hundred cubits in length and twenty, nay thirty, cubits in its beam, with two tall masts and sails of strongest hemp. The ship that now stood before us was even greater.
I have said that our masters planned well. And so they did. On this night we watched as the Nubians brought forward each wagon and unyoked the oxen, then hauled each wagon along a wide ramp of strong timber that stretched from the heavy carved stones of the quay to the open side of the mighty ship. Ten times the Nubians did this, their bodies black and streaming with rain, the lights of the torches flickering on the black leather and yellow bronze of the cages, until all the cages had been hauled onto the ship. Our Centurions began to run back and forth and shout, as they always do, reforming the cohort, preparing for the march to camp. ‘We have completed our quest’ the Centurion called to us as we stood wet and cold in the rain. ‘The Beast has been conquered and is now readied for transport to the far reaches of the world. To the Land of Gond. The Pharaoh will be well pleased.’
Our cohort was ten score men when we marched to meet the Beast. Three score of days had now passed, and the cohort numbered little more than two score men. So many had fallen. But in the darkness and rain the faces of the men around me were happy and I, as did they, began to dream of home, of my mother’s cooking, of my father’s kind wisdom. And, of course, of dry feet and a soft bed. But as is ever the case, I have come to know in my three score years of this life that the Gods oft make other plans. So even then I was not surprised, not really, when a Centurion came forward through the ranks of the cohort to where I stood, wet and cold, with my friends. As he stood in front of us I knew that the omens had come to pass. He gave short instruction, that we, Naguib, the Omars, Minkaf, Isesi and myself, along with two other men, yet another Omar and a particularly strong fellow named Musharrif, were to stay as the last men of the cohort moved off.
Our hearts were low as we stood silent in the rain, a Centurion standing with us, watching as the cohort led the oxen and the Nubians into the night. We watched as their torches disappeared in the darkness until the only sounds were the creak and groan of the timbers of the ship as it moved against the stones of the quay, and the rattle of the cages as one of the mighty Beasts moved around. On the deck of the ship I saw the flash of white eyes and teeth along the rail. Some Nubians also remained. I wondered what was to come. When the torches of our comrades fluttered from our sight our Centurion turned and gathered us close around him. He told us that we were the chosen ones, selected by the Pharaoh to transport the Beast. We had been chosen because of our strength and because of our love of the sea. I knew that to be untrue of course for only Naguib was a sailor. But you also must know how it is with those of power. They will do and say many things to achieve their ends. And care little that what they say may not be the truth.
The Centurion’s name was Omar. I beat my head and asked myself why it is that there are so many Omars. Even two is too many. He said that we would transport the Beast to the land of Gond, that we would be aided by more than a half score of Nubians, and that we should complete our journey in but seven moons. I remember how my heart trembled in my chest. It was three moons, perhaps more, since I had tasted my mother’s cooking. I missed it greatly. Of course the Pharaoh’s armies did not go forth with empty bellies, but their food could not compare with the taste of my mother’s pilaf. And now we would have Minkaf as cook, the best among us to be sure, but in all truth, terrible. Even Naguib grumbled. I asked the Centurion if we were to see our families before we departed but he said to us that there was no time, that it was the Pharaoh’s will we sail the tide that very night. At this the bile rose again in my throat, for I knew our journey would have more dangers, dangers as great as any we had already faced, dangers that might yet claim us. To leave without farewell to those we loved was indeed a heavy load to bear.
But it was to be that we did not speak with our loved ones, for our ship set sail in the early hours of the new day, in the month of Renwet, in the Season of Shemu, in the 1st year of Senusret I. We sailed with a crew of one score and three under our captain Naguib, from the merchants’ quay in the Port of Heliopolis, in the early morning light, the rain soft on our shoulders, the wind firm from the east. Nagui
b shouted and ran back and forth on the deck of the ship, in much the same manner as we had seen of the Centurions. We hauled sails and manned the tiller beam, and the Port of Heliopolis was soon left far behind, as we sailed upon the great river, the Nile, towards the Sea Medi. Naguib turned our stern to the sun, as it rose above the horizon, and the wind filled our sails. Our journey had begun, the Centurions said, a journey that was to take but seven moons. Of course it did not.
* * *
(Here endeth the sixth night of words of Agymah Chahine of Abydos – scribed by Imhotep, Son of Shariff and Khuyb, daughter of Agymah – for she is learning the way of letters - in the City of Memphis in the fourth year of the Ox.)
Part VII – The Pillars of Hercules
(Here is written the seventh night of words of Agymah Chahine of Abydos - scribed by Khuyb, Daughter of Agymah, and Imhotep, Son of Shariff, at the house of Agymah and Eti, in the City of Memphis in the fourth year of the Ox. Imhotep grinds ink and prepares papyrus. Paser assists.)
Naguib was sorely tested in our first days at sea, for of the four and twenty souls on board, barely a handful knew anything of sailing. But he was ever a man of even temper, and had settled the tasks of all on board by the third day, though it was not without much shouting and, for the Nubians, much waving of hands and tapping of chests. It was many moons before we were able to speak words that all could understand.
The ship was large, almost two hundred cubits in length, with two decks. The main deck was all but two score cubits in its width and stretched the length of the huge ship, though the front of the boat, which Naguib informed us was called the bow, had a raised area with a small mast and sail. This Naguib called the foredeck. Our cooking area was situated on the main deck, just below the foredeck, with an area of sail pulled tight above it to shelter those who worked there. The cooking area had a number of large vats and pots secured to the deck with bronze bolts. Each pot sat above a clay oven, held in place with wooden chocks through which long wooden pegs were passed. To one side there was a large bench, also fixed to the deck, while on the other there was a deep cabinet in which we placed our firewood. We all agreed it was a fine kitchen.
The main deck was a vast expanse of dressed timbers from the palms along the Nile. Wide pieces of timber, hewn flat by the woodworkers of Luxor, were laid side by side, each secured with wooden pegs, their joints filled with pitch. On each side of the ship there were long rails made of Tamarix. They reached the height of a man’s waist and were broken at lengths of forty cubits to allow goods to be passed to and fro. Across these openings stretched a braided rope of hemp. Two masts of vast height were also set in the main deck, each with a hempen sail greater than thirty cubits in width and more than thirty in height, held by thick ropes of hemp that we loosed or tightened when Naguib shouted. Ropes and other tools were stored in sturdy cabinets at the base of each mast. Our weapons were also secured in racks that were bound to the base of each mast. On each side of the foremost mast, at the rail of the ship, a small dhow was held firm by more hempen ropes.
To the rear of the ship, referred to by Naguib as the stern, stood a high deck, larger than that at the bow, and on this Naguib and the Centurion would be found. There three Nubians manned the tiller beam, a huge timber, carved from the log of the Tamarix, greater than twenty cubits in length, and so large that a man’s arms could not span its girth. The beam was joined by rope and tar to the huge rudder that stretched from the rear of the ship deep into the water. It too was constructed of Tamarix wood, large flat pieces of timber joined by tar and hemp and long wooden pegs. Such was the strength of the seas, greater even than the Pharaoh’s army, that thick ropes of hemp held the tiller beam fast, each rope fastened to the rail of the ship. Man alone could not hold the tiller beam against the wind and the sea.
The Beasts’ cages were set along the main deck, a sail tied firmly to the top of each to provide shelter from the sun. On the inside of each cage, near the doors, the makers had fixed a trough for water. Each day we would bring water from the deck below, hauling barrels up the narrow steps with leather slings across our back. The second deck was set within the bowels of the ship, stretching as did the main deck the full length of the ship but broken into storerooms and sleeping quarters. As I have said many times, our leaders planned well. Many of the storerooms were filled with provisions. There was plentiful food and water, salted meats and vegetables, barrels of wine and many grains, enough for three score of days at sea. One large room, with wooden troughs on two sides, held ten score of goats. Needless to say the smell was terrible even so early in our voyage. Naguib made sure that we sluiced the area each day.
There were storerooms filled with strange clothes, made from the skins of animals with thick wool at the necks, sturdy leather boots with leather thongs to bind them, other boots, also leather but lined with thick hair, as if the skins of the goats had been tanned then turned inward. These strange clothes hung in lines upon the walls of the storerooms, the boots in rows beneath. In wooden cabinets against one wall were pieces of headwear, the like of which we had never seen, made of leather with a flat top, and long pieces that could wrap around the face, like the faceplates of an armoured helmet, and tied with strips of leather. Why would anyone wear these strange garments we asked. And how could they wear such things for they would surely expire of the heat. We shook our heads in amazement. Even Omar and Naguib had no answer.
But one storeroom caused great consternation. It was locked fast, the Pharaoh’s seal in wax set across the opening. Omar the Centurion held the key and he would not say what lay within. Needless to say it was not long before the ship was alive with gossip. Isesi believed it was filled with food, sweetmeats that only Omar could partake of, unlocking the storeroom in the night and gorging himself on delicacies of which we could only dream. Minkaf believed that there were others within the storeroom, saying that he had heard voices sometimes when passing. He said that it was the family of the Pharaoh, even the Pharaoh himself, and that we would only see them when our journey had ended. The two Omars did not seem perturbed and simply shook their heads and spat betel into the sea. I was curious but knew better than to speak too much of what might be. I knew that Naguib would tell us when it was time.
When I set forth on this journey with Naguib I had never before sailed, other than to float on a reed raft upon the Nile. And only then for a short period, for I am not a water person. Why would I be? Every fool knows that monsters dwell there. So I did not take well to our life at sea. In truth I was truly miserable for many days, while Naguib walked the decks happily as all others hung from the railing, their bellies emptied of food, their heads aching. But as the days went by, and the sun rose and set, those of us that were not sailors became so. I found that the rolling motion of the ship, which for many days made my head spin and my belly churn, became that of the cradle, rocking me gently to sleep in the evenings and, in the daytime, dizzying me as we sped down long waves, the spume and spray hitting our faces and cooling us in the sun.
We sailed the Medi for two score of days and nights and, as we neared the Pillars of Hercules, our skins were brown as if stained with the tea that Minkaf brewed each morning. Our hands were hardened and scarred from the ropes and rigging of the ship. And our hair, always dark as coal, was streaked with white and gold. Naguib told us that the water of the ocean contained much salt, and that if we were to put it to our hair or upon our clothes it would bring forth new colours. He also told us that we should never drink of it, not even if we were mad with thirst. For he had heard tales of men lost at sea who, without water for many days, had drunk of the ocean. And every man had died, screaming in pain and madness. Of course this did nothing to make me feel more comfortable, floating on a wooden ship so far from land, in the midst of an ocean without end.
But Naguib taught us well, and by this time we had all settled into our regular tasks. Each day it was my lot to assist Minkaf in preparation of our breakfast. Many days we would eat of porridge boiled with wat
er and salt. Sometimes Minkaf would add some dates for sweetness. On others he would add salted olives. I found it to be a fine meal after I had picked the weevils from my bowl. Even the Nubians liked it. But Isesi and the Omars often complained. On one morning they were so shrill in their complaints that Minkaf took the vat, filled with porridge and dates, and threw it from the side of the ship. We all went hungry that morning, but there were no more complaints.
After breakfast I would feed the Beasts. This was a task that took much time, though I was assisted by one of the Nubians, a very large man by the name of Nabob. I could not tell his age but I believed he was older than I, though perhaps not by many years, for his teeth were strong and white. We did not speak much but it seemed we could work together with little effort. He and I were of the same mind, that was clear. The Beasts gave us little trouble and I must say that this surprised me. I think Nabob, too, was surprised. Each day, before the sun rose to more than a hands breadth above the horizon, I would go below decks and secure a goat and bring it crying and bleating to the cage. Each of the cages had a small grate on one side, hinged with bronze and locked with a mighty bolt. Through this we would push the goats, each one squealing miserably in its final moments. For many days I felt pity each time I pushed the goat through the bars of the cage, for the Beasts would eat them in little more than a mouthful, the sounds of breaking bones, a short scream from the animal, then the long thick tongue of the Beast would creep along its jaw. And all the while the Beasts lay silent, their red eyes all but closed against the brightness of the day. But I knew that they watched.
Lion of the Sands Page 5