Lights on the Nile

by Donna Jo Napoli

  The man tilted his head. “Honey makes you cry?”

  “Honey makes me think of little Babu. He loves honey. And he’s gone.”

  “I’m sorry,” said the man gently. “Was he your baby brother?”

  “He’s my baby baboon.”

  The man blinked and stood up straight. “You have a baby baboon?”

  “Not anymore. Two boys stole him.”

  “Here in town?”

  “No. Babu and I were gathering sycamore figs. He’s the smartest baboon in the world. He does anything I tell him. And those boys saw us—the tree was near the river and they were in a boat, and they stole him. He bit one of them really hard, too—but they stole him anyway. I followed them all the way here.”

  The man furrowed his brow. “How did a girl like you get a baboon?”

  “A crocodile ate his mother.”

  The man opened his mouth as if to ask a question, then shut it. He pulled on the tips of his beard. “So where are the boys now?”

  “Their boat is docked with the fishing boats.”

  “Is there anything special about the boat?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “How could I recognize it?”

  “It’s an ordinary boat—just small. But the boys are easy to recognize. They’re the only Nubians I saw at the docks.”

  The man looked hard at Kepi. “Is everything you’re telling me the truth?”

  She nodded.

  “Everything?”

  She nodded.

  The man pursed his lips. “Where do you live?”

  “In a village south of here.”

  “All right. I have an idea. I think I can help you get your baboon back. Come with me.”

  Chapter 7

  The Basket

  “Well, don’t just stand there.” The man named Menes beckoned to Kepi. “Climb on board.”

  Kepi’s fingers clutched the sides of her skirt nervously. It was one thing to walk with this man through the city streets, where if she screamed someone would come to her rescue. It was quite another to get on a boat with him. She took a step backward.

  “You pick now to stop trusting me?” Menes stood in the middle of the boat and stroked his beard. “You remind me of my little sister, you know that? Do you have a sister?”

  Kepi nodded.

  “They’re a raging trouble, right?” He rolled his eyes.

  Kepi smiled. “Nanu can be a raging trouble.”

  “Nanu? That’s my sister’s name, too!”

  Kepi couldn’t help smiling. “How funny!”

  “Well, from a brother of a raging-trouble Nanu to a sister of a raging-trouble Nanu, if you want to understand my plan, you have to take a look.” Menes walked to a cluster of five large baskets and held up the lid of one. He pointed inside.

  Kepi sucked on the tip of a lock of her hair.

  Menes shrugged. “Look, Kepi, what’s the worst that could happen? We’re on the dock of a city. It’s a busy place. If you shout, someone’s going to come running.”

  The boat was a big one, for cargo. It was made of planks woven together with reeds. Wooden slats fitted into slots between the planks, and more reeds were packed in to seal the seams. Rush matting ran down the center. Five oars lined each side, and two more stuck out of the broad overhanging stern for steering. It had a tall mast for the sail, which was lowered now. There would be a big crew on a boat like this. Maybe twelve men. Maybe more. The more people there were, the less dangerous it was. And, like Menes said, there were other people coming and going on the docks as they spoke. If she shouted, someone would help.

  Besides, they had something in common—raging-trouble sisters named Nanu.

  And most of all, Menes was nice. He was offering to help her when no one else was. She was lucky he’d come along just at that moment, just when she had decided to go home—without Babu. Kepi had lost so many things in her life, but losing Babu would be the worst by far.

  Kepi took a deep breath and carefully walked the little plank and stepped onto the boat. She was surprised to find that the boat didn’t move at all with her weight. It was much more stable than the only other boat she’d ever been in—the little one that carried her family to the city a couple of times a year.

  Menes smiled at her and backed away to let her pass. Kepi peeked inside the coiled basket. It was empty and smelled of nothing other than the dried bundles of date palm leaves that it was made of. “You sell baskets?”

  “Nah. We buy stuff and fill them as we go.”

  “All right, an empty basket.” She shrugged. “What’s your plan, anyway?”

  “You hide in the basket. I’ll go get Babu from the Nubian boys, bring him back here, and put him in the basket with you.”

  Kepi crossed her arms. She’d been half expecting Menes to offer precisely that, because he’d asked her so many questions about the baboon. But a cold cube of fear formed in the center of her chest. “Why do we have to hide in the basket?”

  “If my fellow crew members see you before we leave, they won’t let you stay on board. We don’t pick up passengers. It’s a rule.”

  “I don’t want to stay on board anyway.”

  “Sure you do. You told me how long it took you to run here. You can’t possibly get back home before nightfall—and it isn’t safe for you in the dark. So you need a ride with us.”

  “You’re going south?”

  “All the way to Yebu.”

  Yebu was an island in the Nile right on the border with Nubia. The southernmost city of Egypt was there. So this boat would definitely pass by Kepi’s village. “But once you leave the dock and I come out of the basket, what’s to stop the crew from putting me off onto the shore?”

  “By then you’ll practically be home already. We’ll just explain. No one would ditch a little girl on the shore in the dark. Really. My fellow crew members aren’t bad men. They just don’t want to break the rules.”

  Kepi looked into the basket again. It was roomy. Cav-ernous, in fact. She was sure she could lie down flat in it without her feet or head touching the sides. “How will you get Babu?”

  “Leave that up to me. You said he likes goat milk, right?”

  “With honey mixed in. He sucks it from my fingers.”

  “I’ll bring him back, and I’ll bring dinner for both of you. So . . . what will it be? Should I lift you in or not?”

  “I have to take care of my needs first.”

  “Go off the side of the boat. I’ll look the other way.”

  Kepi hopped from foot to foot. Now that she’d admitted her need, she could hardly hold it off. “What if someone on the dock sees? And I could fall in. I have to go find a latrine in the city.”

  “No, you don’t. Look.” Menes dug through a pile of gear at the bow of the boat. “Here. Get behind the basket and go in this bowl, then dump it over the side.”

  So Kepi did what she had to. “What should I do with the bowl?”

  “Put it back where it came from.”

  “But it’s all nasty now.”

  “We’re used to nasty.”

  What if that meant the bowl had been used by others, too, without being cleaned out? Kepi held the bowl as far from her as she could and quickly put it back near the pile of gear.

  Menes stood beside the basket with his fists on his hips. “Are you finally ready for me to lift you in?”

  There was a line of barrels nearby, on the other side of a loop of rope as thick as her waist. Kepi tipped a barrel and rolled it on its bottom rim, just as she rolled the grain barrel at home. She climbed on it, then jumped into the basket on her own. When she stood, only her head stuck out.

  Menes smiled. “You look like a funny little monkey yourself. Tell me something. When the croc ate Babu’s mother, were there any other baboons around?”

  “There had been. But they left.”

  “Did you see the adult males?”

  “There was only one. It was a small band.”

  “What did he lo
ok like?”

  “Big, with a lot of silver hair fluffing out around his neck, and a pink bottom.”

  Menes slapped himself on the chest and let out a loud breath. “A hamadryas. The best kind. Those males are ferocious unless you tame them as babies. Well, I’d better go fetch that baby.” He dug into his cloth bag and pulled out a little pouch. “Chew on these while I’m gone.”

  Kepi took the pouch. “What is it?”

  “Something to calm you. Just chew on them.” He picked the lid up off the ground. “Sit down so I can close you in.”

  “What if I want to get out?”

  “Stand up and open the lid and shout. But really, don’t do that. I mean it. If anyone sees you, the whole plan will be ruined. I’ll be back soon. Eat those seeds and wait for me.”

  Kepi squatted, and the lid closed over her. All light was shut out. Immediately she stood up and lifted the lid.

  Menes stood there. He grinned as though that was exactly what he had expected her to do. He mimicked picking things from his hand and eating them. “The pouch,” he said. Then he waved good-bye.

  She settled back down, this time on her bottom. She couldn’t hear much from inside the basket, the coils were stitched together so tightly. She couldn’t hear Menes’s feet go down the plank.

  Would he really get Babu? How long would it take? Kepi chewed on her hair in the pitch dark. Then she remembered Father stopping her from doing that this morning. It seemed like forever ago. By now Father would have realized she wasn’t coming home with a basketful of coriander, but he’d be too worried to be angry. Mother and Nanu would be worried about her, too, just as worried as she was about Babu. If only there was a way to let them know she was fine.

  She had the urge to get out of this basket. She didn’t have to call for help. She could just throw her weight against the side and tip it over. Then she could run after Menes and get Babu back with him. Only Menes had said he didn’t want her anywhere near the Nubian boy’s knife. And Kepi didn’t want to be anywhere near that knife either.

  She stood and lifted the lid just a little. She peeked out. Two men on the dock were busy talking. They were easily within shouting distance. Menes was right; this dock was a busy place. Kepi closed the lid and sat.

  Chapter 8

  Poppy Seedpods

  Kepi had never been good at waiting. And this time was harder, because she knew she should be on her way home rather than sitting in the basket. Now that she’d figured out how to make Father’s bread famous, she wanted to tell him fast, before he made coriander bread and lost all his customers.

  But she also wanted to get Babu back. It couldn’t take Menes that long, could it?

  The pouch Menes had given her sat on her lap. She opened it and let her fingers investigate. There were three egg-shaped, pliable things, with a little circle of fringe at one end. Seedpods. She held one to her nose. The delicate, pleasant odor of poppy reassured her. Mother ate poppy when she had headaches or trouble sleeping. Lots of people did. And everyone gave teething babies poppy to chew on. So Menes must be right; poppy must be soothing.

  Kepi slit the side of one pod with her thumbnail and sucked out the milky liquid. Then she dug off a small piece of the fibers and put it in her mouth. Her tongue located a few tiny hard balls. She picked the fibers from her mouth but rolled the seeds around on her tongue a minute. Then she used her tongue to push them between her teeth, and she chewed slowly. When she finished, she did the same to another piece, until she had used up one whole seedpod that way.

  Everything seemed to slow down. Slow slow slow. Warmth crept through her toes and fingers, up her legs and arms, it seeped through the innards of her body, it leaked in through her ears and nose and eyes. She looked down at where she knew her hands must be and couldn’t understand why they didn’t glow. She was glowing, she knew she was glowing. If only she had her jewelry on, she could tinkle and glow. Like the goddess Hathor. She giggled.

  Ever so slowly she lowered herself backward until she lay on her side, curled gently. This basket was turning out to be a comforting spot to rest. In fact, it was the best place to rest she could ever imagine. How funny. Maybe she could talk Father into trading for a giant basket like this one so that she could nap in it sometimes. Maybe Nanu would nap in the basket with her. And Mother, too. It was big enough for three. Kepi wanted to talk to them about it, describe every detail, so Father could buy another one exactly like this one. This one was the best in the world. It made her feel not only rested but now full of energy. She wanted to stand up and dance. But her arms weren’t moving, her legs weren’t moving. It was like they weren’t hers—they were far too relaxed to move. She’d have to think about that. Later. She smiled into the dark. Later.

  A rasping whisper came from above. “Psst! Kepi! Psst!”

  Kepi sat up. She felt no alarm, just a pleasant dazedness. She looked right at Menes, who smiled down at her. Really? He had left only a second ago. Could he really have come back already? Or maybe she’d slept? But she didn’t think she’d slept.

  Menes handed her a wiggling cloth bundle, knotted at the top. Kepi breathlessly untied it. Babu jumped on her head and clung there, making little cries like lamb bleats. Kepi squeaked, too. She had never been so happy. She reached up and pulled her dear baby down to her chest and hugged him close, kissing the top of his head. He was really back. It was what she had hoped for, but it felt too good to be true.

  She looked up, but Menes’s head had disappeared. All she saw was sky. Twinkling sky. So time had passed, after all. Well, that was good. In fact, nothing could be a better omen. Those twinkles were Kepi’s ancestors, the imperishable ones, telling her everything was going to be all right. Everything was going to be all right from now until forever. She laughed out loud.

  And there was the moon, looking benevolent. Was that really the goddess Hathor? Could it be that for once a goddess cared about her? “I love you,” called Kepi. “I love you so much.”

  “I love you, too.” The words rang through the night air clean and clear. “You take care of that baboon now.”

  Ha!

  Menes’s face reappeared. “Here.” He lowered a cloth satchel into the basket. “There’s enough food for both of you in there. I’m going to tie the lid shut now. That way, if anyone moves the basket when we rearrange the cargo, it won’t fall off accidentally and expose you. So don’t try to lift it off this time, all right? No noises. Just eat and rest. And take good care of that baby baboon. That’s the important thing.”

  Kepi smiled and nodded. “Babu and fruit bread. That’s all we need.”

  “Did you suck on a seedpod?”

  Kepi smiled and nodded.

  “I thought so. Finish them off. All of them.” He closed the lid.

  “Menes?” called Kepi.

  He opened the lid and leaned in. “What is it?”

  She waved good-bye to the goddess Hathor, up there in the sky. “How did you manage to get him?”

  “Does it matter?”

  And it didn’t. Kepi kissed the top of Babu’s head. Everything was going to be all right forever. “Thank you.”

  The lid shut again.

  In the dark Kepi felt her way carefully through the food satchel. She wiggled the stopper free from a jar, and the unmistakable sharp scent of goat milk and honey made her mouth water. Babu cried instantly—the poor hungry little one. He was still used to several meals a day.

  Kepi fed him from her fingers. He whimpered between gulps, like a wounded puppy. She fed him till he curled in her lap, asleep. She snaked her hand between his arms and felt his belly. It was a hard, round ball. A happy ball.

  She held the jar to her chest. She wanted the rest of that milk; she could almost taste it, she wanted it so bad. But if Babu should wake before they got home, he might need a little more just for comfort. He was still a baby, after all. She carefully replaced the jar stopper.

  Another jar held beer. Kepi took a sip. It bubbled more than the beer Father made at home.
She drank a little, then put the stopper back in the jar. A hunk of bread and a folded palm leaf still remained in the satchel. She opened the leaf and her finger sank into soft curds—fresh goat cheese. Menes really was a brilliant man. He was the most brilliant man in the whole world. She smeared the cheese on the bread and ate a big bite. It was fabulous. But she found she wasn’t as hungry as she’d thought. She couldn’t take a second bite. She wrapped up the cheese and bread again.

  She took another seedpod and bit a little hole in the side and sucked as she lay back down and curled around Babu. They’d be home soon. She closed her eyes. She felt so good, so different. She was exhilarated and at the same time lulled into dreaminess by the sweetness of everything.

  Vibrations traveled up from the boat floor through the basket. The crew must be moving cargo around, just as Menes had said they would. Kepi braced herself in case someone should lift the basket. She didn’t want to be surprised and let out a yelp by accident. But no one touched the basket.

  Of course not. Everything was going to be all right forever and ever and ever.

  She chewed on the seedpod lazily.

  After a while, the basket shook. That must have been from the thunk of the stone anchor onto the deck, she thought groggily. So they’d be going now. South, against the current. That meant the crew would raise the sail. She wished she could hear it going up. She wished she could hear it flutter in the breeze that always blew against the Nile current. She wished she was already home and lying on her reed mat, listening to Nanu breathe beside her in that lovely regular way of sleep, knowing that, if she called out, Mother would come running. If only Menes would take the lid off so she could watch the lights in the sky as they sailed.

  But what did that matter? She could hardly hold her eyes open anyway. Besides, even with her eyes shut, she could see the heavenly lights. She shut them. All those shining dots. A comforting warmth gently rolled across her skin everywhere. Everything was exactly how it was supposed to be. Kepi laughed.

  Chapter 9

  Stuck

  Kepi woke to coal black. She rubbed her eyes. Something warm and rough touched the heel of her left hand. She would have jumped away in alarm, but her head felt heavy, her whole body felt heavy. Solid, lumpy heavy. She pushed up onto her elbows with effort, wobbled a moment, then surrendered herself and fell back down again. Little grunts came. Oh, thank goodness, it was dear Babu. He must have woken her.