by Hal Clement
The fields were some distance from the bay, as it had proved easier to burn off grassland than to clear the brush and trees near the water. A path had been cut from the shore to the farm, and some of the soldiers were always stationed along
this as guards. No natives had yet been seen, but the Phoenicians insisted that men did live here and might possibly be unfriendly. This thought did not bother the warriors, who much preferred guard duty to cultivating. Gizona had thought of using this fact in his plan, but had finally settled on another-one which the Phoenicians themselves had given him, though they didn’t know it.
He waited until he found his man alone, on guard duty at a spot on the path a mile or so from the beach. Lukos greeted him casually, and Gizona returned the salutation and settled down beside the Greek as though for a rest. For a moment or two neither on said any more; then the boy started his carefully planned talk.
"Say, Lukos, why do you suppose they’re growing so much grain?"
"For food, of course!"
"Yes, but why so much? I don’t think all the ships could hold what we’re growing." This was not true, but Gizona’s regard for truth was starting to suffer from the company he had been keeping. "Even if we do get it all in, it must mean we're going very much farther to the south."
Lukos shrugged. "Who cares how far we go? It’s new things to see and do."
Gizona was a trifle surprised at finding this feeling in a man whose brains he supposed quite ordinary, but he had too much sense to mention the fact.
"Some things you see only once," was his answer. The soldier gave a superior gave a superior smile.
"Are you afraid, boy?"
"Yes, a little."
"Why? Nothing much has happened yet, except sinking a couple of ships. That’s likely to happen anywhere on the sea, whether it’s new country or not."
"I suppose that’s so; but that’s not what I’m afraid of."
"What is it, then?"
"Well, I once heard a story about the ocean going right to the edge of the world, and if you sailed to close you fell off."
The soldier smiled tolerantly. "That’s true enough," he said, "but the edge is in the far west, past the Pillars. Everyone knows about that. We're going south."
"How do you know we are?"
Lukos looked down at the boy in surprise.
"By the sun, of course. It rises in the east and sets in the west. How stupid can you be?"
"Where is it at noontime?"
"I don’t know. Up, isn’t it? Ask a sailor— those Phoenicians know all about the sun and stars."
"It should be south, and it isn’t any more. If you face the sunrise at noon, your shadow is on your right! I’ve tried it."
To Gizona’s disappointment, the soldier was only mildly interested.
"What difference does that make?" he asked, "as long as it still rises and sets? The gods have not forgotten us."
"It may make one difference," Gizona said. "Look. If the world has an edge, it must have it all around— right?" He scratched a rough square on the ground with a stick as he spoke.
"I guess that’s right." The soldier was doubtful but willing to listen.
"All right. Let’s say the sun travels like this— here’s east, where it comes up, and here’s west where it goes down." The boy, using a small pebble to represent the sun, carried it in an arc from one side of the square to the other.
"If you’re in the middle of the world the sun is right overhead at noon. Now, suppose you’re here." He indicated a spot near the "south" edge of his square. "Isn’t the sun going to be to the north at noon— just the way it is now?"
For several minutes the soldier looked at the diagram with a troubled expression.
"— I dunno," he muttered at length. "It looks like sense, but there must be something wrong. No one ever showed it to me like that before. No one ever fell off the edge this way that I ever heard tell of." He frowned, and thought some more; then his face cleared.
"Say, he said. Wait a minute. The Phoenicians know where they’ re going; they’ve been to this Land of Gold before. If there were any edge to fall off they’d know about it. I don’t like "em much, but they’re not fools." He sat back with a satisfied smile on his face, his mind once more at peace.
Gizona looked around carefully to make sure no one was watching. He even went to the bends in the path in each direction, making a better show of his anxiety. Then he leaned close to the soldier and spoke quietly but rapidly.
"That’s the story they give,’ he said. "Actually, I overheard the Admiral and some of the others talking one night. They’re not going to the Land of Gold; Pharoah’s paying them to find out how far Africa goes to the south. That's why there are so many ships, and why the galley always goes first— " He went on for long minutes, building up his carefully planned story.
After all, he felt, if the Phoenicians could scare people away from the west with an edge-of-the-world story, someone should also be able to scare people away from the south with the same yarn. The changing expression on the face of Lukos the Phokaian showed very clearly that Gizona’s plan was sound, and the boy talked on.
CHAPTER 16
Sargon’s language was stronger than anything Gizona had ever heard. The Ninevite was furious, and the words he was using were insulting in ways that the boy had never thought of. Many minutes passed before he said anything that seemed to call for an answer.
"For someone who had everything planned out, you certainly let those dirty snakes fool you." he snarled at his companion.
Nimshi was equally angry, but held himself in better control.
"Your trouble, Sargon, is simple enough. You’ve know all along I could think better and faster than you, and don’t mind it any more; now you’ve discovered that someone else can do the same, and it annoys you. I did have everything planned; the trouble was, so did someone else, and he put his plan into action first. There was nothing we could have done to stop that."
"Except work faster," growled the AsSyrian. "That ship was afloat days ago."
"You know why we had to wait. That’s not what worries me, though. What I want to know is why those soldiers took the galley and made off in her."
Sargon looked at the Judean in surprise. "Same reason we were going to, I should think."
"You should think, all right. If they wanted it for the reason we did, they must have known where the Land of Gold is. They didn’t take any Phoenicians with them. We hadn’t told any of them our plans. How did they find out?" Sargon looked puzzled.
"I don’t know. Maybe they just wanted the ship. Maybe they’re going to take her back north and get their treasure by piracy— there are plenty of ships in the Red Sea and the sea south of the Land of the Two Rivers."
"Maybe you're right, but I have another thought. I'll bet Captain David had another soldier-spy on the same job that we were on, and he got the same idea we did. It was probably that Greek Gizona caught watching us— what was his name— Lukos? The captain should have stuck to people he could trust!" This remark made Gizona jump, but Sargon didn’t seem to see anything strange about it. He was more impressed with his friend’s theory, which it never occured to him to doubt.
"That must be it," grunted the Ninevite. "I’ll certainly tell that captain off when I see him."
"You’d better keep your tongue in your mouth and your head on your shoulders," counselled Nimshi. "As for seeing the captain, I’m sure it won’t be long before that happens. The sun is up and everybody knows the galley is gone; he’ll be wanting to ask what we know about it before we have breakfast, or I'll go without."
Nimshi was right; in a remarkably short time a Phoenician sailor approached. He seemed a trifle surprised to see them, but delivered the message that Captain David wanted to speak to them in his hut right away.
"All right, Ethbaal," Nimshi answered. "We might as well hear the worst." The soldiers trailed off in the direction of the hut, Gizona following. They did not go too rapidly; Nimshi’s las
t remark had made even Sargon think. He had given up his plan of complaining to the captain.
David seemed to have just finished his own breakfast when the three arrived. Like the sailor, he seemed a trifle surprised to see them; in fact, he admitted as much.
"So Ethball found you, did he? Things seem to have gone rather differently from the way I expected."
"I should think so," replied Nimshi. "Haven’t they told you the galley is gone?”
"Oh yes, I knew about that. I was expecting it. What surprises me is that you three didn’t go with her. How did that happen?" The captain seemed perfectly calm about the whole matter, and Nimshi, who had expected him to be at least surprised and probably as furious as Sargon, was somewhat at a loss what to think. Gizona, of course, was not; he was delighted at the words which seemed to prove his idea about the captain’s motives had been right.
"I don’t think I understand you, Captain." Nimshi was speaking very carefully; he was out of even his depth. David laughed, for the first time since any of the three had known him.
"Yes, you do, soldier. We understand each other, only you don’t want to believe it. You think I don’t, or shouldn’t, know what you two were planning to do with the galley?"
"Why, I— " Nimshi stopped talking and turned savagely on Gizona as a new thought struck him. "Have you been— "
David raided his hand. "No, your slave has not told me anything. I didn’t need any such way to find out."
Nimshi scowled. "It must have been that Lukos, then. You should have spotted him earlier, Gizona."
It was the captain’s turn to be puzzled. "Who is Lukos? What do you mean?" he asked.
"He’s the soldier Gizona caught spying on us. You ought to know all about it; you must have been giving him orders. I still don’t see how he found out our plans, though— unless—" and his gaze swivelled back to the boy once more. The captain interrupted.
"I remember the man now, though I never really knew him. I assure you that he was not spying on you, or anyone else, under my orders; and frankly, from what little I know of him, I don’t think he has the brains to spy for anyone. How sure are you that he was doing this?"
"I never caught him, but Gizona did; and you can’t fool Gizona about a thing like that. We've tried him more than once— he could tell you right now who’s looked at either of us twice since the voyage started."
"Really? I had heard some interesting things about him, but not that. However, that’s not important just now. Admitting your boy’s ability, how sure are you of his truthfulness? You seemed to have some doubts a moment ago. i seems to me that you’re putting a lot of trust in the youngster. Of course, you’ve known him longer than I have."
Nimshi was thinking furiously; Gizona could see him doing it. Sargon was not; the conversation was still a step or two ahead of him— as a matter of fact, no one else in the room was paying any attention to the Ninevite. David and Gizona were watching Nimshi intently, and a queer feeling rose in the boy's stomach as the soldier’s head turned slowly in his direction and the eyes under the bronze headpiece seemed to drill through him.
"You’re quite right, Captain David," the Judean said slowly. "We have trusted this boy a great deal. We have believed what he told us about himself, and about you, and about the Greek Lukos. It’s so long since he said something I knew was false that I’d forgotten he might still lie if he wanted. Gizona of Tartessos, how much of what you have told us in the last six months has been true?"
Gizona was not completely cornered. He understood the veiled reference to his eavesdropping on the captain so long before, and knew that he would be in trouble if Nimshi told of it; but his masters would be in even worse trouble, so the boy doubted that they’d tell. He knew that David could probably never prove he’d had nothing to do with Lukos, especially since the Greek had left with the galley. Gizona had only to stick to his story, and he could probably convince everyone present that it was true.
But suddenly he didn’t want to. Maybe it was conscience— he’d been doing a lot of lying lately, and didn’t really like it. Maybe it was pride; after all, he’d been making several grown, experienced men do exactly what he wanted without their even suspecting it. For a slave, that was quite an achievement, but the fact that no one knew rather spoiled the fun. Maybe it was the fact that carrying two different pictures in his head— the truth, and the fiction he had built up for the others— spoiled the neatness of things for him. Later on, he felt that was the biggest reason he began talking.
Whatever the reason, he suddenly did begin to talk.
"Not very much has been true, I’m afraid. I didn’t tell your plans to the captain, though, and I didn’t even tell them to Lukos. What I did tell, Captain David, was— your plans. You remember the disturbance during one of your conferences before the fleet started, when the watchman surprised a boy sleeping on board? I was that boy, and I heard the true purpose of this voyage. I did not tell my masters that— I only mentioned to them that you were looking for them for a purpose, and they could probably get the position they were seeking with the fleet if they happened to find you."
"Why didn’t you tell them the whole story?" The captain’s voice was stern, but Gizona thought he detected traces of a smile behind the beard. He answered as simply as possible.
"Because I wanted to go. If my masters had known the voyage wasn’t for treasure, they’d have gone somewhere and done something else— and taken me with them. I thought of running away from them and hiding on one of the ships, but this way seemed easier and safer— I didn’t know what you usually do to stowaways."
"So you dragged us along on a trip that wouldn’t do either of us a bit of good, just for your own sweet wishes?" asked Nimshi bitterly. Gizona looked back at him steadily for a moment, and silenced him with a counter-question which had never occurred to the Judean, clever as he was.
"Wasn’t that just what you were doing to me?" There was a very silent pause lasting for several seconds; then the boy resumed him story.
"Nothing much happened on the trip here that I had anything to do with. After we arrived, and you told me about planting food for the return voyage, I got interested; I felt that after we left here we would be in country new to you as well as to me."
"You’re just about right," the captain admitted calmly.
"I wasn’t perfectly right, though. When you called us in and told that story, I judged that you must know about a river a little farther south, and about some danger there. I knew that you wanted to get rid of the other galley— I heard enough, that night I listened, to know why. I could see that you were trying to get my masters to incite the galley crew to mutiny and leave with the ship, at a time when the captain who was your friend would be ashore and wouldn’t suffer. That was all right with me; I’m just as happy with the galley gone as you are. The trouble was that your plan would have my masters and me going with it, and I was worried about what might be up that river you told about. You certainly didn’t expect the galley to come back down it very quickly, and maybe not at all. So I thought I’d better arrange for the rest of the soldiers to take it, and leave my masters and me behind."
"That was quite sensible," admitted the captain. "I don’t think the ship will come back to the sea, as a matter of fact. There is a kingdom of black men up that river who don’t like foreigners at all. But how did you make this arrangement?"
"I told Lukos about the real purpose of the trip— to see how far Africa went and to sail around it if it could be done. I knew he'd tell the story to his friends."
"I see. We didn’t tell them for fear they would mutiny, but to tell the truth I never thought they’d be as frightened as all that."
"I made sure they would be. I used the same edge-of-the-world story you Phoenicians use to scare people out of the western ocean, and convinced him it was true by showing him that we were leaving the sun behind— it was crossing to the north of us at noon. I drew him a picture which showed him that that ought to happen at the edge of the
world— and I guess he carried that news to his friends, too." Gizona chuckled at the memory. "I don’t think they’ll go up the river you mentioned, Captain; I’m sure they headed north when they got out of the bay. Tell me, did they steal enough supplies to get them back to the Red Sea?"
"I don’t know yet," David admitted. "There’s a lot missing, but we haven’t counted it up yet. Personally I doubt that they did; most of what’s gone seems to be the stuff we left out for them to steal."
"I see. Well, anyway, that seems to be about all. You are rid of the galley, as you wanted to be, and my masters aren’t riding it up that river with me along, so I guess I saved them a lot of trouble, too. Now we can go on and see how big Africa is.”