by Zuheb Alep
Hearing the sound of flapping sheets, Benjamin turned to find four overseers entering their tent. Using whips and metal knuckles wrapped around their hands, they whacked the slaves to rouse them from their slumber.
Benjamin quickly shook his brothers. “Wake up!” he said. “You’ll get beaten!”
Herman woke quickly and pulled his brothers to their feet. The overseers saw that they were awake and let them pass without beating them. Benjamin sighed with relief.
Outside the rising sun blazed with heat, and the new slaves were gathering in the middle of a large clearing. Slaves who had been there for years passed by and murmured their sympathy.
Benjamin looked down to the ground, almost wanting to cry.
“Stay close!” he said to Alby and Kevin, who were having difficulty keeping up.
When the newcomers had all gathered in the clearing, Benjamin searched once more for Sebastian and Edgar but there was no sign of them, nor of Uncle Merin.
“You two, go over there!”
Like a pair of stray dogs, Kevin and Alby were pulled from Herman’s hands.
“Leave my brothers alone!” he shouted.
The sound of wailing cries was followed by many others in an uproar. Loud shouts were exchanged between Herman, the overseers and other slaves. The newcomers were all being separated from their loved ones.
Benjamin couldn’t bear to see this. He wouldn’t let it happen if he could prevent it. As he attempted to turn back and help his brothers, a beefy hand restrained him from behind. Benjamin cried out, hoping that this might just be a nightmare.
His brain found it difficult to process what happened next. A large hand slapped him across the face, the golden ring it wore leaving a small cut on his bruised cheek.
The slap was followed by another and another, but the fourth never reached him.
He opened his eyes. Someone was grasping the overseer’s hand, preventing him from striking Benjamin. It was Sebastian! He was here. He had come.
Sebastian pushed the henchman away and wrestled with him, then two others joined the fray. Benjamin backed away, crying.
Edgar appeared and pushed him aside, then the swarming crowd blocked his view. Trying to get a glimpse of his family, Benjamin was grabbed by the hair and dragged away, screaming, to join a group of other boys aged about twelve or thirteen.
They were herded away and Benjamin was left with no choice; he had to go with them. He was very frightened; tears streamed down his bruised cheeks and he didn’t attempt to brush them away. There was no sin in crying, after all. All he wanted was to be at home, snuggled deep inside his warm, comfortable bed.
They walked a long way, passing many rocks and stones which were being beaten into shape to complete the mighty statues. They halted before a long ladder that led up some high scaffolding. Benjamin could smell the stench of burning mud and dreaded what was to come; he realised they would have to squash it into bricks, a very unpleasant task.
“Those of you who are new, watch the other boys and do as they do,” said an overseer at the front. Most of the people here spoke the common tongue.
Listening to the other slaves, Benjamin identified this overseer as the Watcher, different-looking from the others; he had darker skin and stronger muscles.
Climbing up the ladder, Benjamin followed the other boys to the thirteenth level. Lined up on one side were hundreds of rectangular cases. Burning mud poured from overhead buckets, making Benjamin’s heart beat faster.
“In!” said the Watcher.
Afraid of the whip in his hand, Benjamin did as he was told. He dipped his feet into the mud and cried out in agony, receiving another slap.
Benjamin quietened, wincing silently, and started squashing the mud, moving his legs up and down.
“Out!” said the Watcher after a long while.
The boys got out of the mud, their feet filthy, and bent down to smooth the mud bricks with their bare hands. Benjamin winced again.
“Don’t cry,” said the boy next to him. He had a strong accent. “It won’t get you anywhere.”
Benjamin didn’t know what to say to that. How could he not cry? “But I’ve lost my family,” he said.
The boy next to him shook his head. “You’re not the only one. I’ve lost my father, too.” No more was said as the Watcher strolled past them. When he was gone, the boy continued. “My uncle said he’s gone to a better place. When I get out of here, I’m going to find him. Crying won’t bring them back. I learnt that the hard way.”
The boy looked about a year older than Benjamin and resembled a skeleton more than a human.
Benjamin said nothing but went on listening to the boy’s reassuring voice. It made him feel a little better to have someone to talk to.
“I’ve been here for a year,” the boy continued, “but the slave settlement has been here for a long time, since well before I arrived.”
“Reform!” shouted the Watcher.
They stepped back and watched other men lift the muddy bricks into sacks, taking them elsewhere to a kiln. Once more the bucket above poured mud into the rectangular cases. The squashing started again, and doing it for the second time was much worse.
Benjamin stopped crying, managing to control his tears and his temper. He winced silently, reluctantly allowing the mud to scorch his feet. “Where were you taken from?” he asked the boy.
“From a village not far away. I’m Egyptian. My father, my uncle and I were brought here together.”
“I see. I don’t understand why my family and I have been split up into different groups. Do you know why?” asked Benjamin.
“Well – ” the boy began, pausing as the Watcher walked past them, “it goes by age here. Children from four to ten work in one area, and those from eleven to thirteen work here. The adults, from fourteen upwards, work somewhere else. On different days we work in different places, too. Today is Tuesday; I know that because we’re working here, and that means we’ll be working at the palace tomorrow. You’ll soon get the hang of it.”
“Will I ever see my family again?” Benjamin was almost afraid to ask, but still had a little ray of hope.
The boy nodded. “Of course,” he said. “At the end of the day, you’ll see them, back in your tent.”
Benjamin sighed with relief. At least that was something. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Haroon. What’s yours?”
Benjamin told him and they exchanged a quick handshake.
After more hard work, Haroon tapped Benjamin on the shoulder. “Can I tell you something?” he asked.
“Yes, go on,” replied Benjamin.
“I don’t want you to think badly of me. You might feel that all Egyptians are bad because they’re invading other villages and countries and taking slaves. Those are just the pharaoh’s men. I’m not like that; I’m a good Egyptian boy.”
Benjamin sighed and shook his head. “I don’t think badly of people unless they hurt others or interfere with their freedom.”
*
All day they worked hard till their bones ached. Benjamin’s hands were stained with mud and so were his legs. They were given a ten-minute lunch-break, with bread and water to keep up their strength. After that, five minutes were given to them to use the cubicles at the bottom of the scaffolding to relieve themselves. Benjamin had wondered if they’d have to sleep like this and was glad to be proved wrong, as the dirt was washed away at the end of the day. The daily bath was the best part of the slavery, they had all agreed. When Benjamin and the other boys were fresh and clean, they walked back to their tents.
Benjamin was confused. “Where do we go now?” he asked Haroon.
“We go back to the tents to eat. Where did you sleep last night?”
“There,” Benjamin told him, pointing to a tent towards the back. He remembered which one because it had red garme
nts on it.
“See you tomorrow, then. My tent is just over there, if you need me.”
Benjamin thanked him and was glad to have made a friend. Running to the tent, he opened the flap and found all his brothers sitting on the sofa-beds. They looked up with joy, relieved that he was okay.
Sebastian came over first to hug him. “Are you all right?” he asked.
Benjamin nodded, but he could see that none of them was unharmed. They had all been beaten except the youngsters.
“What happened to your face?” asked Edgar.
Benjamin now bore a scar from the slap of the Egyptian overseer that morning. He felt it and winced.
“Don’t worry. I’ll clean that up for you.”
“Where’s Uncle Merin?” Benjamin asked next. “The last time I saw him, he was with you two.”
Sebastian shook his head. “He wasn’t with us when we arrived.”
“He didn’t come with any of us? That means he’s safe with Jordanna and Nadine.”
Sebastian shrugged, hoping for the best. He knew it could be true and hoped it was. It was the only explanation he could accept.
After they had eaten the sparse food given to them, they told each other what they had been doing all day. Sebastian, Edgar and Herman told the youngsters that they had been pulling ropes to lift heavy objects onto scaffolding, while Kevin and Alby informed them that they had been working at the palace, scrubbing the floors to cleanliness. That task would fall to Benjamin tomorrow.
While they spoke, Edgar tended to Benjamin’s scar, dabbing it with cold water and a cloth.
Benjamin smiled, comforted by the loving attention rather than the treatment. Later, they all went into a huddle in a corner of the tent to talk privately. Alby was cradled in Edgar’s big arms, fast asleep, while Kevin lay awake in Herman’s lap. Benjamin leant his head on Sebastian’s shoulder.
“What do we do now?” asked Herman. “We can’t stay here. We must get out.”
Edgar agreed. “We must figure out a way to escape.”
Sebastian waved his hand to attract their attention. “Yes,” he said. “I agree. We must plan an escape. We should be at home, not here, and so should these slaves. I’m surprised that this secret hasn’t yet been exposed. If the wider world knew of this, then it would be shut down. I’m a general myself, and I have never heard of slaves existing in other countries. This is a violation to the world’s law of freedom. Prince Adam’s royal family would not accept this.”
“But Prince Adam and his royal family aren’t here,” Benjamin interrupted.
“And how do we stop all this? How do we escape with all these slaves?” Edgar asked, his voice rising angrily. “There are too many of them to worry about; we may need to concentrate on ourselves.”
Benjamin lowered his hand, suggesting that they should keep their voices as quiet as possible.
“In ten years’ experience of being a general, I have come across situations like this before,” answered Sebastian. “I know ways to escape. I’ve got out of worse situations than this. We must approach the problem methodically. First, we need to work out the size of this place. Next, what security arrangements are in force? How many guards, and where? We also need to check the number of exits and the schedule of events, to understand the routine of daily life here. That will all help us to escape, and the other slaves too. It won’t be easy.”
They all nodded, agreeing with every word.
“When you go to the palace tomorrow, try to get the full layout of the place into your head,” Sebastian said to Benjamin, who nodded.
“The three of us will do the same wherever we are, and that goes for you two children as well. Find out all you can.”
Kevin nodded, gazing upon the sweet sleeping face of his brother.
The Unique Compass lay safely rolled up in the back of Benjamin’s man-skirt throughout the day. He remembered what it had told him, and so he waited.
*
The bright light of dawn woke Benjamin and his brothers before they could be beaten and, unlike the previous morning, they were given breakfast. This consisted of bread and water only, but it was nourishment and Benjamin was glad to receive food on a regular basis.
Then Benjamin reluctantly left his brothers to join Haroon. The scar on his cheek had healed and was now just a red mark; it made him look tough, though not in comparison to the boys in his group. Their scarred and bruised bodies were terrible to see, and Benjamin knew he should consider himself lucky.
It was a long walk through the unfinished city to the large, golden pyramid-shaped palace. This sat on the peak of a mountain, and the boys had a long climb up the slope. The ascent took nearly an hour and used up most of Benjamin’s energy. Sweating and dizzy, legs throbbing with fatigue, Benjamin thought he would never be able to make it to the top, yet he kept going. He remembered the words of the Unique Compass and his promise to rescue the slaves.
Finally they reached the top where two sphinxes marked the entrance to the palace. With another smack on the head, Benjamin was forced to go on. They entered the darkened courtyard of the palace, which smelled strongly of sweet grapes. Dozens of buckets filled with soapy liquid were stacked up against the chiselled walls, along with brushes, and they were ordered to scrub the floor. To prevent another beating, Benjamin set to work and, like the other boys, scrubbed hard despite his aching bones. Next to him knelt Haroon, who explained more about the slavery settlement.
“I think they’re running out of slaves, and that’s why they’re invading other countries.”
Benjamin wiped away the sweat dripping down his forehead. He asked, “How do you mean, they’re running out of slaves?”
“Well, all the slaves here were Egyptian until you came. Every village and town in Egypta has had men and boys snatched to work for the pharaoh, to build this godforsaken place; it’s like the tale of Moses all over again. Now half of them are dead or dying.”
“Is that because of the way they’re treated?” asked Benjamin.
Haroon gave a slight nod and bowed to the Watcher, who was passing.
When the Watcher was out of sight, Benjamin continued the conversation. “The slaves wouldn’t die if they were treated well. It’s the pharaoh’s own fault.”
“I agree. He is selfish, that pharaoh! And twenty or so boys go missing every month too. They get taken to some cold place down south. That’s another reason why we’re running out of slaves.”
This struck up Benjamin’s attention. Could it be truly linked to the Halamaband of the Far South. “Where do they go exactly?” he asked, just to be sure.
Haroon shrugged. “And now that the slaves are running out,” he continued, “I suspect that the pharaoh’s going to start invading other countries. You’re the first to arrive.”
Benjamin shook his head. “Well, that won’t end well.”
Haroon frowned with confusion.
“If my country is invaded,” Benjamin explained, “the Aradian Empire will take revenge and it won’t be pretty. They will kill the pharaoh and stop the slavery. You don’t want to mess with the Aradian army, nor with their empire which is ruled by the highest royal family in the world. Sometime I will tell you my tale, and you won’t believe your ears. No doubt the Aradian army is coming to deal with this right now.”
“This settlement is private; no one knows about it,” Haroon pointed out.
“Well, the women from my uncle’s village are still there. They’re not here with us; they only took the men. I’m sure they’ve already told the king.”
“And what if that doesn’t happen? What if those women couldn’t tell anyone because they’re dead? No one has come to save us yet, have they?”
Benjamin hated those words. He held no grudge against Haroon, however; he had a point, after all.
“Then I will do it myself! I will free all of Egypta – ” he murmu
red.
Haroon opened his eyes wide. Could Benjamin possibly free a whole country?
“I want to free all of you, just like I rescued those children down in the Far South. I want to free the slaves, all of them!” At those words he scrubbed hard, almost causing a dent in one of the tiles, not that he cared; he was too angry. He didn’t want to face the fact that Jordanna and Nadine might be dead.
Shortly afterwards, Haroon said, “You can’t do it all alone.”
*
Towards the end of the day, Benjamin returned to his family in the tent, smelling of clean soap. Sitting on the sofa-bed, they ate all that was given to them to satisfy the hunger in their stomachs. The rice dish wasn’t bad, especially the strips of chicken inside, and there was enough water to quench their thirst.
Benjamin hadn’t much to report from the palace to help Sebastian prepare his escape plan.
“I only worked in the courtyard,” he told them. “I didn’t see anything except the four guards at the entrance, and another four on the roof. But there’s one thing you should know; all this could be linked to the Halamaband of the Far South. Haroon says twenty boys are taken every month to a cold place down south.”
Sebastian stroked Benjamin’s hair. “That’s useful information,” he said, praising him. “Don’t worry about the children. If they were taken to the Far South, then we have rescued them. Not all of them have been sent back to their homes yet. Good boy. Go to sleep and get some rest.”
Chapter 17
The Pharaoh’s Choice
The next day was much harder than the previous two, but working close to his brothers kept Benjamin’s spirits up. Sebastian, Edgar and Herman were chiselling a stone statue which could be none other than a younger version of the pharaoh, and Kevin and Alby were put to work carrying kilned bricks to the horse-drawn carriages.
Benjamin kept looking over at them as he broke rocks with a pickaxe. He wanted to make sure they weren’t slacking off; working meant receiving no beatings. Their safety concerned him more than his own welfare.