Chapter Ten
Silus was glad when the river journey ended. Not because he had been on a boat, although that was usually unpleasant for him. But sailing the Nile and sailing the Mare Nostrum in midwinter were as far apart as cuddling and gladiatorial combat. In fact, the trip down the river had been interesting. Their captain had been a good guide, explaining to them the cycles of the Nile. In Egypt, three seasons mattered, and they weren’t the ones that the rest of the world used. The inundation of the Nile, when the great river flooded its banks and irrigated the lands with water and rich soil, occurred from July to November. When the waters receded, the sowing began, which lasted until April or May. Then it was time to harvest before the next inundation, as well as to repair the dykes and clear the irrigation canals of debris. On this cycle depended not only the prosperity of Egypt, but the ability to feed Rome itself. The population gave many offerings to the Nile god Hapi, so that the inundation would be sufficient to properly irrigate the lands, while not being so extreme as to destroy the dykes and the homes of the populace.
The boat captain was also careful to pay appropriate respect to Hapi, on whom his life and livelihood depended. He pointed out the hippopotami to Silus and Atius, strange animals like enormous pigs that looked peaceable as they munched on river plants. The captain informed them that they killed more people in Egypt than any other animal, would happily overturn a boat, and despite their rotund appearance, could outrun a human on land.
They also saw some real examples of those strange creatures that they had seen pictured on wall paintings in Alexandria – long, green, scaly, long-mouthed creatures called crocodiles, which were also deadly. But both creatures were holy and were treated with reverence by the captain and his crew.
Silus had quite enjoyed the gentle rocking of the boat as it sailed upstream southwards, watching the farm workers on the shores, feeling the gentle breeze on his skin, mild despite the time of year. He had thought of the temperature in northern Britannia and Caledonia at this time of year and smiled that he was avoiding it.
So no, it was not the experience of being on the boat that had so relieved him when they docked at their destination just north of Hermopolis Mikra and disembarked. It was the fact that he would no longer be cooped up on the ship with Atius, and his smug, knowing smile.
When they had embarked in Alexandria, Atius had casually asked Silus where he had stayed the previous night, as he hadn’t returned to the palace. When Silus had reddened, he had pushed harder, until Silus had confessed he had spent the night with the priestess.
‘I’m so proud of you. My mate has finally got his end away. And not just with anyone. With a priestess, no less.’
Comments of this sort had continued for the entire trip, to the amusement of the legionaries that had been assigned to them, and to Silus’ rising irritation.
When they were ashore, Atius said, ‘Are you sure you don’t want to return to Alexandria with the boat? We can handle things here. I don’t want you to pine for your new love.’
‘Jupiter’s cock, Atius, won’t you give it a rest? She is not my new love. It was a one-off. I’m sure she won’t be interested in doing it again.’
‘Were you a bit crap? Out of practice?’
‘Actually I was fucking good, not that it’s any of your business. Now can we drop this?’
In fact, Tekosis had hardly been off Silus’ mind from the moment he had left her the morning after their night of passion. His thoughts were full of memories of the smell of her perfume on her skin, the sounds of her moans, the feel of her smooth body…
Damnit, he needed to concentrate now.
The captain gave them directions to the village, a half hour’s march away. He had suggested they could get there quicker if they rode camels, but Silus had taken one look at the unreliable-looking, oddly-shaped animals and decided they would be better on foot. So they set off along a dusty road, marching past workers who put down their shovels and hoes to watch the soldiers.
The directions were accurate and they reached the collection of small houses uneventfully. The first thing that Silus noticed was that the roofs were all flat. He supposed that was because there was no rain, and a sloped roof was unnecessary, but it gave the place a strange, exotic appearance. The walls of the buildings were made with mud brick and the roofs were palm logs layered with reeds and topped with hardened mud.
Although too small to call itself a town, the village was not tiny, and a sizeable group of people had gathered by the time they marched into the central square. Silus indicated for the four legionaries accompanying them to halt, which they did in good discipline, remaining in formation and at attention. Silus waited, and after a few moments, an old man stepped forward.
He had long white hair, a receding forehead, and a long beard hanging down from his chin while his cheeks were clean shaven.
‘I am Amenisenb, elder of this village.’ He spoke heavily accented Greek. ‘May I know your name?’
‘I am Centurion Gaius Sergius Silus, working for the new Governor of Numidia, Sextus Varius Marcellus.’
Amenisenb looked him up and down. Silus wondered what impression he gave, armed but unarmoured and not wearing any uniform. But with four legionaries in full battle dress behind him, he figured it didn’t really matter.
‘And what brings you to our village, Centurion Silus? We have paid our taxes.’
Silus scanned the faces of the villagers. The sun was behind the soldiers, so the locals, men, women and a good number of children, squinted at them. He read some concern there, but it was only the normal level of anxiety that a group of armed men, official or not, would instil. Largely they seemed relaxed, not worried that they were about to be arrested or attacked. So it seemed that the village as a whole was not complicit in the raid. That was good. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if retribution for the desecration was brought down upon these simple families.
‘We are here to find a man named Menkheperresenb.’ He had practised the name, repeating it aloud a number of times while on the trip down, and he could see from the face of the elder that he pronounced it correctly.
‘He is not here,’ said Amenisenb.
‘But this is his home?’
Amenisenb hesitated, glanced at the soldiers, then nodded.
‘When did you see him last?’
‘Not for some time.’
‘Hours? Years?’
‘Many weeks,’ said Amenisenb.
Silus nodded to Atius. Atius drew his sword in a smooth motion and pointed it at the elder’s throat, so the tip pushed his chin up, indenting the skin.
‘It’s not a good idea to lie to me,’ said Silus. ‘I see a lot of families here. Women and children. Don’t endanger them by harbouring one criminal.’
Amenisenb pressed his lips together.
Silus shook his head and sighed.
‘Kill him,’ he said. Atius drew his sword back. Amenisenb closed his eyes, but did not shy away.
‘Wait!’ A woman’s voice. An elderly woman pushed her way through the crowd. ‘Please, don’t kill my husband. I will tell you what you need to know.’
‘Mukarramma, no,’ said Amenisenb.
‘I won’t let them hurt you, husband,’ said Mukarrama. She spoke to Silus directly. ‘Ask your questions.’
Silus put out a hand to restrain Atius. ‘Tell me, lady, when was Menkheperresenb last in this village?’
‘He was here today. He went to the city to buy some new clothes. He said he had money coming to him soon.’
‘Yes, he would think that. He returned recently from a journey to Alexandria?’
‘He did.’
‘Mukarramma, stop!’ cried another woman from the crowd, this one much younger, and heavily pregnant.
Mukarramma looked round at the woman who had spoken, and her face creased in anguish. ‘I’m sorry, Anuketmnata. I can’t lose my husband. He is all I have since Aakheperka died.’
‘Who are you?’ asked Silus of the woman who had j
ust spoken.
‘I am Anuketmnata, the sister of Menkheperresenb.’
These names were getting confusing, Silus thought. He concentrated on trying to remember the important ones.
‘So if you are sister to Menkheperresenb, you must also be sister to Ankhtakelot?’
She looked at him in surprise. ‘How do you know that name?’
‘What did Menkheperresenb say happened to the men who went to Alexandria with him?’
She looked doubtful. She brushed her long, dark hair from her eyes. ‘He said that they had stayed in Alexandria.’
‘And did he say why they had all gone there?’
‘He said it was on business. A man hired them to do some work. Centurion, what do you know of my brothers?’
Silus spoke loudly so that everyone gathered could hear.
‘Menkheperresenb, Ankhtakelot, and the other men from this village were hired by someone to go to Alexandria, desecrate the Temple of Isis Lochias, and steal the statue of Isis.’
A collective gasp went through the crowd.
‘Every one of those men who did this crime are dead, except Menkheperresenb and Ankhtakelot.’
Several women in the crowd cried aloud and began to wail. One young woman dropped to her knees, tearing her hair. Another, older, sagged against her husband, and a third simply fainted. Silus spoke over the sounds of grief.
‘Ankhtakelot is a prisoner in Alexandria. He may be executed. There may be retribution on this village. Executions. Your homes burnt. Your crops. It depends what happens here, in this village. Whether we recover the statue. Whether you all co-operate. His brother Menkheperresenb is the one who agreed to this. Who met the man who hired them. I want him, I want to recover the statue, and I want the man who hired him.’
He looked around the crowd, who were silent apart from some soft sobs.
‘You,’ he pointed at the sister whose name he had already forgotten. ‘When is Menkheperresenb returning?’
‘This afternoon,’ she said quietly.
‘No one is to warn him we are here. You will find us a house that we can stay in and bring us food and water. When he returns to the village, you,’ he pointed to the elder, ‘will personally come and fetch me. We will remain here until our business is done. Then we will leave. We will pay for our board and lodgings. No one will be harmed. Unless you defy me. And then the consequences will be upon your own heads. Is there anyone here who does not understand what I have said?’
Silence, not even sobs now.
‘Good. Anhkisenb, was it?’
‘Amenisenb,’ said the elder glumly.
‘Arrange a place for us to stay with a view of this square.’
Amenisenb looked helplessly at his wife, who nodded firmly.
‘It shall be done.’
* * *
Mukarramma had brought them bread, goat’s cheese and beer. It was better fare than he had expected, having stormed into the village and threatened them with violence. He suspected they were trying to mollify them in the hope of getting better treatment. Mukarramma herself appeared calm when she handed over the baskets of food and the jugs of drink, but he could see the surface of the liquid rippling, giving away the fine tremor in her hands.
The beer was strange, thick and sweet, but not particularly strong, so it was more refreshing and nourishing than the sort of beer he was used to from Britannia. The legionaries, who were more used to wine, were less impressed, and drank sparingly. Atius, too, drank little.
‘Not to your palate, my friend?’ asked Silus.
Atius shook his head. ‘It’s not that. It tastes fine. I’ve just been thinking maybe I should cut back a little.’
Silus’ eyes widened in surprise, but he decided now was not the time to follow up this interesting statement. He cut a wedge of cheese, broke it in half, and gave one half to Atius. He ate the other half slowly and waited. One of the legionaries broke out his knucklebones, and Atius joined in the game, while Silus looked out of the window surreptitiously, hidden in the shadow cast by the sun against the walls.
Children played in the street. Two girls were dancing, an odd rhythm that looked like they were pressing grapes with their feet. Three boys played with a leather ball, the two larger ones tossing the ball over the head of the smaller, who leapt to try to catch it with consistent lack of success. The older boys laughed when the younger started crying and stomped away.
Such a normal scene. The skin colour, the clothing, the buildings were different, but the child’s play was just the same as he used to see on the streets of the vicus in Britannia. Yet his vicus had been destroyed in a violent raid. Egypt was in no real danger of enemy raids, but a village like this could be razed to the ground and its inhabitants crucified if the ruling power, be it Romans, or before them Greeks, or even the Pharaohs before them, willed it. He hoped the children here would avoid any retribution that their stupid elders might have brought down upon them.
Amenisenb opened the door and closed it quietly behind him, peering through the crack before he pressed it shut.
‘He’s here,’ he said in a loud whisper. Atius rolled his eyes at the theatrics. The village elder had obviously missed his calling as an actor.
‘Point him out to me,’ said Silus. There was no way he would distinguish his target from the other male villagers, he thought, given he had previously only glimpsed him briefly in the dark. He was wrong.
Menkheperresenb came swaggering down the street like he was royalty. He had a gold chain around his neck and silver and gold rings. He had a purse of coins that he was tossing out to the children who were following him like he was a gift giver on the Saturnalia. Over his shoulder he carried a bag with a heavy object in it. Silus realised he must have gone to the city and got a loan using the expensive statue as collateral. Menkheperresenb was clearly not a man to wait until money was in his possession before he spent it.
Once Menkheperresenb passed the door, Silus eased it open, gesturing to Atius and the soldiers to stay put, and approached him from behind. He put one hand on his sword, creeping up on him quietly. But then a dog barked loudly at Silus, and Menkheperresenb turned and saw Silus.
Silus called out, ‘Menkheperresenb! Stop there, in the name of the Emperor Antoninus.’
Menkheperresenb’s mouth dropped open. ‘You!’
He seemed to recognise Silus better than Silus recognised him, but maybe that wasn’t surprising – the Egyptian had been in the temple for longer, so his eyes had been better adjusted to the dark, and there was only one of Silus for him to remember. Regardless of whether he knew Silus was Tekosis’ saviour in the Temple of Isis, he obviously knew he was in trouble if an agent of Rome was confronting him in his home village. Without a word he turned, put his head down and sprinted away.
Silus cursed and set off in pursuit, at the same time calling for Atius and the legionaries. His drawn sword encumbered him, but Menkheperresenb was also slowed by the heavy sack, which bounced around, slamming painfully into his back with each step.
A toddler tottered out from a house straight into Silus’ path. Cursing, he swerved, just avoiding stepping on the tiny child. The toddler swayed in surprise, fell onto its backside and started to howl with fists clenched and eyes tightly closed. At the end of the street was a modest temple, and Silus thought Menkheperresenb might be heading there for sanctuary. But he turned a corner and disappeared, and Silus chased after him. He grabbed at some crates stacked at the end of the street to help him take the corner faster, and as he swung round, the top two crates toppled over, spilling duck eggs over the street in a mess of shell and omelette. An enraged woman yelled at him, but he ran on.
Menkheperresenb was only around thirty yards ahead, and he was doing his best to lose Silus by using his local knowledge of the village. The trouble was the village was too small for that to work. This was no Subura. And when Menkheperresenb took a sudden right turn down an alley, Silus saw that the little street would lead round the back of one of the houses that fl
anked it.
He ran at the front door, shoulder first, and the flimsy wood splintered. An old man sitting on a chamber pot yelped and covered himself with his hands, but Silus was through the room before he could stand. Silus continued through a back room, and seeing Menkheperresenb running past, leapt head first through the back window, whose shutters were fortunately wide open.
He grabbed Menkheperresenb with both arms, and the Egyptian’s sack went flying through the air, Silus’ sword spinning off in the opposite direction. The two men rolled through the dust, and Silus immediately began to wrestle to get on top and pin him down. They were of similar size, but Silus’ training and skills showed quickly, and to add to that, Menkheperresenb kept trying to reach the sack instead of concentrating on fighting off Silus. Within moments, Silus had Menkheperresenb pinned down, and all resistance had left the Egyptian.
Atius and the legionaries reached them a few moments later.
‘Looks like you have everything under control here, Silus. I’ll be off.’
‘Legionaries, hold this man.’ Two of the soldiers grabbed him under the shoulders, and Silus carefully got to his feet, breathing heavily from the unexpected exertion. He put his hands on his knees, took three deep breaths, then walked over to retrieve his sword from the dirt.
‘Atius, get the sack. Let’s see what’s in it, as if we can’t guess.’
Atius picked up the sack and pulled out the contents: the heavy, foot-high state of Isis in finest gold. The legionaries stared in outright greed at the valuable object. Silus walked over to Atius and inspected it. It was largely unharmed, except the sceptre with the ankh symbol that she carried was a little bent. A good goldsmith would fix that easily.
‘Please,’ said Menkheperresenb. ‘Give it to me. I need it.’
Atius looked at Silus in bemusement. ‘Is he serious?’
‘You stole this. Why would we give it back to you?’
‘Because he will kill me!’
‘Don’t worry about the man who hired you. He will be captured…’
‘Not him. Jabari. From the city of Dmi-n-Hr.’
Emperor's Axe Page 19