But I did not dwell long on the intelligence of the Beasts. My life, and that of my comrades, was a misery of freezing water and vomit, the latrines at the rear of the ship so coated in horror that I could not go there. Each night, between watches, we lay in our hammocks, the comforting gentle rock of the soft seas of the north transformed to wild swings and bumps that emptied the stomachs of even the most seafaring among us. Sometimes it seemed in my misery that I lay there for one hundred years or more, only to find when I arose that but a few moments had passed. Such was the depth of my despair. But my despair was no more and no less than that of my comrades in arms. Or indeed that of the Nubians and the Beasts. For as the storm drove us relentlessly to the east, so did the weather grow even colder. As we staggered to the deck in the dim light of the morning we saw that the hoarfrost each night grew thicker on the ships rails and rigging. And as the seas broke across the decks and rails, each time a little remained that also turned to ice, and the decks became a murderous path on which no man could stand, and the rails such that no man could grasp.
By the dawning of the tenth day of the storm we were frozen men, our spirits drowned in the wind and cold, the decks of our ship white with frost, the railings thick with ice that dripped like frozen waterfalls, the ropes as hard and stiff as the bars of bronze that bound the cages of the mighty Beasts. But even I could feel that our ship did not move as easily through the mountainous waves. Where we had but a few days earlier sped easily down the face of one wave and up and over the face of the next, now our ship drove heavily into each wave, its foredeck white and frozen. Each time the bow of our ship rose more slowly than it did the last, and each time our ship rolled with the wind and waves it rolled more slowly, lumbering upright as if it were a pregnant cow. I saw Naguib speaking urgently with Omar the Centurion. But I knew of what they spoke. The ice was killing our ship. If we did not soon free our ship of the ice then it could only be a short time until it could not raise itself once more above the waves, taking my comrades and myself, and the mighty Beasts, to a frozen watery death. One from which our souls would never be free, lost forever in the black depths so far from our families, our bodies food for the monsters of the deep, our bones to lie forever in the mud and sand at the bottom of this terrible sea.
* * *
For ten days and nights we battled to save our ship. While Naguib and the Nubians held the long tiller arm and guided our ship with the roaring winds, my comrades and I cut ice from the decks and the railings, and scaled the mast to break free the lumps of ice that clung to the rigging and the mast top. It was work filled with danger, for the winds still howled around us and, though the rain no longer fell, the ship heeled and rolled heavily in the waves that chased us across the dark ocean. I and my Nubian friend Douwwi worked together, using our hatchets to break the ice free from the railings. Isesi and Minkaf worked with four Nubians, pounding at the ice on the foredeck and breaking away the frozen waterfalls that fell to the main deck. The Omars and the remaining Nubians climbed into the masts and rigging, ropes tied firmly to their ankles to pull them to safety should they fall or be swept overboard.
But still the ice came. The waves that swept across our decks were too frequent and too cold to overcome. Each one left more ice behind than that which we had broken away. Each time our ship became heavier, and moved ever more slowly through the waves. On the night of the third day the rain came again, frozen daggers in the wind, and by morning on the fourth day the ice again clung thick and heavy to our mast and rigging. All on board threw themselves against the ice, wrapping our hands in clothes to ease the pain, our fingers without strength or will, but still it came. The Beasts crouched silent in their cages, hungry and white with frost. We had but little food for the Beast. The last of the mewling goats cried out below decks, but the barrels of dried meats and fish were empty. Our daily meal was one of porridge and the last of the dates, now salty from the icy seas spilling into the lower decks. As I crouched one morning near the kitchen I could see that some of the Beasts had met their death at the hands of cold and starvation. But there was nothing we could do.
Yes, it seemed that we were doomed. But again the Gods chose to spare us. One of the Nubians, a young man of lighter skin than the others, though still with the strange lumpen patterns across his cheeks and forehead, came forward and asked to speak with Naguib and Omar the Centurion. His God Name was Mashane, and he spoke of his father and his uncles and of their orchard of oranges in the south, beyond the town of Semna. He told of how they burned oil in large vats when the orange flowers were budding, saving the tender shoots from the icy cold of the desert nights. And he told how, when sometimes the frost was settling in the trees and upon the grasses, the smoke from the burning vats would keep his father’s trees free from ice.
We needed no bidding. Another day and mayhap our mighty ship could not raise its head to meet the waves, that the weight of the ice would take it into the depths. So we ran to Minkaf’s kitchen and took his huge cooking vats. We placed these at the base of each mast and near the foredeck. And we filled them with oil and Minkaf fired each one from his fire shoe. After that we could do nothing but wait. All day the smoke boiled from the vats, curling black and thick around the mast and through the rigging, or whipping in curls across the foredeck. Though the wind still roared and whipped at us we watched as the ice upon the masts and rigging became wet and shining. And late in the afternoon, lumps of ice began to fall to the deck. Throughout the nights and days thereafter we filled the cooking vats with oil and touched them with fire, the dark smoke whipping in the wind, but swirling thick around the mast and through the sails and across the decks and cages. I know not why it was so but the ice fell away, our sails and rigging moving easily in the wind, the decks wet and dark. The hoarfrost fell from the cages, and the hides of the Beasts, for so long coated in ice and frost, became slick and grey under the smoke. On that first day and thereafter, our ship did not roll so heavily with the wind, or plunge so deeply into each wave. We all felt the changes. Again I kissed the amulet at my neck and thanked the Gods.
I was schooled at the temple but I was ever the bad student, seeking in all ways to avoid the priests and their teachings. Thus I could not understand why the Gods chose to spare us. Why me? I am a sinner. I have always been a sinner. All the priests said that this was so, that the Gods would claim me early. When told of this I was fearful for many days but I was young, and so their warnings were soon forgotten. But now I looked to my comrades. If not me then perhaps there was another among us that the Gods favoured. Of course I did not care who that could be. All I cared was that our ship was saved. Our fates yet again had been taken by the Gods, to dice through the heavens at their pleasure. We knew not what they planned for us, and we knew not why we were spared. But truth be told, we did not care. It was enough simply that we lived.
* * *
(Here endeth the eleventh night of words of Agymah Chahine of Abydos - scribed by Khuyb, Daughter of Agymah, at the house of Agymah and Eti, in the City of Memphis in the fourth year of the Ox. My brother Pamu grinds ink and prepares papyrus. Paser has again been banished for a dung beetle was found in the ink. Imhotep remains in his bed. He is a baby.)
Part XII – Arks of Ice
(Here is written the twelfth night of words of Agymah Chahine of Abydos - scribed by Khuyb, Daughter of Agymah, in the City of Memphis in the fourth year of the Ox. Imhotep, Son of Shariff, has recovered from his illness and will assist and make tea. Pamu grinds ink and prepares papyrus.)
Yet another night of talk. I am tired of talk. But I am told I must continue. My good wife Eti and my daughter Khuyb are insistent. I earned their ire when I said that I wished to visit Nedemeb, that I wished to share a goatskin with him. Both are quick of memory and remind me of my tortured bowels on the last occasion that I shared wine with he and our friends. Even though it is true that my bowels were in uproar when last I visited Nedemeb, still I wish to go. For that is ever the way of man. At least it has ever been
my way.
They groan and wring their hands at my flatulence. What of it? What does it matter that I ate all the dates? I think it just that I have some small pleasures. I am not permitted to eat the smoked fish that I love so much. Or the dried meats from Nubia. The physician tells me that my joints will swell and redden should I partake of these foods. But just a little would be welcome. And now they turn their dark eyes upon me again and pray to the Gods for my fallen soul. How many times have they done this? And what does it matter anyway? I am an old man. Surely the Gods have done with me by now. But no matter, I will continue as usual, bending to the will of the women of my life. For this also has ever been the way of man.
And so it was that many days passed. Days of freezing misery and cold. After forty days we awoke, our bodies shivering and blue. The storm was gone, but still a stiff wind pushed us east, our bow cutting white through the water, the smoke from our vats curling black and sulphurous around the mast and the Beasts’ cages. Around us the sea was lit by a cold sun, its radiance dim and pale, and we beheld a sight that shows itself to few men. And of these, many do not return. For in the weak pale light of that day we saw the strangest of apparitions.
All around us the water stretched, so dark as to be almost black, seeming to swallow the weak light of the sun. But on the water, on all sides of our ship, lay huge white cliffs of ice. For a long few moments, as I stared at these strange objects, I feared we had sailed into a maze of frozen islands, and I looked fearfully to the foredeck to see if the Nubians had run to throw the sounding lead. Then I realised that these islands were as our ship, floating upon the surface of the great sea. It was as if we sailed in an enormous fleet, for all around us huge white arks of ice rolled in the dark swells of the ocean. Many of the ice islands were huge, far greater in size than even our mighty ship, but many were much smaller, not greater than the size of a dhow, and they crowded around us, jostling each other in the freezing waters. All on board crowded to the railings to stare. Naguib and Omar the Centurion stood near the tiller, staring up at the white cliff that rose above us as we neared one of the huge ice islands. I stood beside Minkaf and Isesi. Douwwi stood at my other shoulder but the other Nubians were crowded at the far rail, their eyes, as ever, rolling white against their dark skin. As we neared the icy shore we felt a wash of cold flow across our shoulders and, with cries, threw on our leather cloaks and tied our hats tight beneath our chins.
Naguib and Omar the Centurion are wise men. They have always had my respect. But for their wisdom and foresight, I believe that our expedition may have failed or met with tragedy. Many times. As they stood on the reardeck, watching as our ship passed by the side of one of the white mountains I saw Naguib motion to Omar and lean over the side of the ship, looking down into the waters. I followed his eyes.
Many of the ice islands were huge, larger even than the temples of Luxor, or of Kharnak, and stretched high into the sky above us, greater even than a hundred cubits higher above the top of our tallest mast. But as I looked into the water I saw that even more ice lay below the surface. All around the sea was dark and forbidding, but beneath the island the water was a soft blue washed with green, and I saw, as the seas washed slowly around the base of the white cliffs, strange curls and shapes in the ice, dark holes of underwater caves, and spikes and spears where the ice had melted in strange patterns. I knew in a moment, as did Naguib and Omar the Centurion, that these strange shapes beneath the sea could spell death to our ship. One touch might drive one of the icy spears through the timbers of our great vessel and spill us into the freezing water. And to a certain death.
But there was more danger. There were so many ice islands, jostling and rolling together in the swells, that there was little room for our ship to pass. To be caught between two of these islands as they rolled one against the other might see our mighty ship crushed, as is the egg beneath a sandal, or as if we had holed our ship on the spears of ice. Naguib was rubbing his beard, his face lined with worry as he and Omar spoke. I saw Omar point to our port side and as Naguib nodded agreement I saw them pull the heavy arm of the tiller to the right, turning our mighty ship slowly to the north east. I ran with Minkaf to the foredeck where we watched in horror as Naguib and Omar steered our ship to safety. Though the wind still blew strongly, the waves of the rolling ocean were deadened and slowed by the weight of the ice in the water. We felt the shudder in the timbers of our ship, and heard the grinding sound from beneath the water, as our keel dragged across the sunken shoals of ice. To our stern, we saw two of the ice islands crash together with the sound of thunder, closing the path we had taken, showering ice and snow into the freezing waters. Twice we struck the side of small ice islands, one showering us with blue white slivers of ice, the other so violent as to throw us to the deck. But our ship was strong, and Naguib and Omar of sure hand. We sailed safely.
Again the fates had cast the dice and our lives were spared. I truly believe had the storm not ceased, and the seas to our north been not clear of ice, that our ship would have perished and we with it, in the midst of that icy sea. As it was, Naguib and Omar sailed us to safety in the space of a long morning, until our ship once more rolled and plunged in the open ocean. The wind still came strongly from the west. And our cooking vats were filled with oil and the black smoke boiled up into our sails. But of course the Gods had not finished with us. I do not think there was a day that passed where the Gods did not sport with our lives.
As we drew away from the sea of ice, slapping each other upon the back and eating more of Minkaf’s porridge, Naguib and Omar pointed again, this time to our rear. And there, in the far distance, we saw that the storm had built again, that the horizon was lost in a dark cloud, and we could not separate sea from sky. I saw lighting flicker again in the clouds and I knew that our ordeal was to begin anew. For a short time the strength flowed from my body and I felt a weariness that only the oldest of men can know. To this day I have not known such weariness as I felt that day.
The storm came fast upon us so we ran to our tasks, securing the cabinets and the sails, roping the cooking vats tightly to the deck, dousing the fire of each vat and placing a thick lid of wood on each to save the precious oil. The Nubians checked the ropes that secured the cages of the mighty Beasts, while Isesi and the Omars checked all knots and latches. At last we crouched together below the rear deck, Naguib and Omar lashed to the tiller above us, and we awaited the storm. What ordeal would the Gods now place before us? What further pain and suffering could they put upon us? I lashed myself tightly to the wooden pegs on the wall of the rear deck and prayed, my fingers tight upon the tiny horse at my throat. I prayed to Osiris that our ship would be as fleet as a pony, that it would fly before the storm and take us to safety. Around me my comrades also muttered short prayers and gathered their clothing tightly about them. And then the storm came.
The storm that lashed our ship for twenty days was less fearsome than the storm that first took us into the ice. The winds were sometimes as fierce, and the waves still broke across our decks and swirled cold and freezing around our legs, but each day we knew we sailed to warmer waters. And even though the winds blew strongly from the west, still Naguib and Omar were able to force our ship to sail across the wind, just a little, but enough. Enough to take us in a north and easterly direction and away from the fields of ice and cold. True, we believed that we were sailing to the north and east, but of this we could not be sure. We could see little around us as the winds drove our ship. The waves and spray blew hard against our faces and the clouds and rain clung close by so that we could see no horizon and no stars. On only one day did we see the sun as it rose and it was by that good fortune that we knew our direction. But the sun was soon gone, the clouds and mist closing again around us, the wind whipping at our sails.
It was at this time that our food had become scarce. Only porridge and salted biscuits remained, all filled with dark bloated grubs that crawled and spawned in the bottom of the food barrels. I did not care. My comrade
s did not care. My body was strong as it had never been before but each bone was clear beneath my skin. I knew that if we did not soon outrun this storm and make landfall, that we might perish for lack of food. As always, fortune smiled upon us.
When the sun rose on the twentieth day after we escaped the field of ice, it rose on a light wind and rolling seas, the water a soft green, the air warm on our skins such that we removed the caps from our heads and shed our leather leggings. Isesi kept only his loincloth and sandals but all others still wore their leather boots. Off our port bow we saw at a distance the low green ridges of land and so Naguib turned our ship, sailing us into a large bay surrounded by trees and rocky cliffs. The water was not deep and we could see many fish beneath us as we sailed into that safe harbour, their forms moving swiftly, but clear against the white sand beneath.
Naguib ran our ship onto the shore near the mouth of a small river that ran into the harbour. The tide was turning and our ship laid itself gently onto the sand, leaning slowly as the water fell. The sun was high above us, the air warm, and the water flowing from the river clean and clear. The shores were filled with tall trees, some with vines and many with bright flowers, grouped in bolts of colour. Strange brightly coloured birds flew by, their feathers of emerald green and ruby red, their screams loud and strange to our ears. Fishes jumped in the shallows, and at the shaded edges we saw turtles, larger than those of the Nile, their backs shiny and green as they moved through the soft waters. On the far side of the river mouth a small group of animals moved. They looked as do the pigs of our homeland. Perhaps not so large and with greater hair on their bodies, but even from a distance we could see that they were fat with the bounty of the land. I and my comrades were pleased. This was a good landfall. We would feed well here.
Lion of the Sands Page 9