The Quest (Novels of Ancient Egypt)

by Wilbur Smith

  Then, at last, an escarpment of hills appeared on the misty blue horizon ahead of them. Over the following days it loomed larger until it seemed to fill half of the sky, and they could make out the deep notch in the high ground through which the Nile flowed. They headed directly for this, knowing that it would afford the easiest passage through the mountains. Closer still, they could see each feature of the heavily wooded slopes and the elephant roads that climbed them. At last Meren could no longer contain his impatience. He left the baggage train to make its own pace and took a small party forward to reconnoitre. Naturally Fenn went with them, riding beside Taita. They entered the gorge of the river and climbed up the rugged elephant road towards the summit of the escarpment. They were only half-way up when Nakonto ran forward and dropped on one knee to examine the ground.

  ‘What is it?’ Taita called. When he received no answer he rode forward and leant out from Windsmoke to discover what had intrigued the Shilluk.

  ‘The tracks of horses.’ Nakonto pointed to a patch of soft earth. ‘They are very fresh. Only one day old.’

  ‘Mountain zebra?’ Taita hazarded.

  Nakonto shook his head emphatically.

  ‘Horses carrying riders,’ Fenn translated, for Meren’s sake.

  He was alarmed. ‘Strange horsemen. Who can they be, so far from civilization? They may be hostile. We should not continue up the pass until we find out who they are.’ He looked back the way they had come. On the plain below they could see the cloud of yellow dust the rest of the column had raised, still three or more leagues away. ‘We must wait for the others, then go forward in strength.’ Before Taita could reply a loud halloo rang down from the high ground above and echoed off the hills. It startled them all.

  ‘We have been discovered! But, by Seth’s pestilential breath, whoever they are they speak Egyptian,’ Meren exclaimed. He cupped his hands round his mouth and bellowed back up the pass, ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Soldiers of the divine Pharaoh Nefer Seti!’

  ‘Advance and be recognized,’ Meren called.

  They laughed with relief as three strange horsemen came clattering down to meet them. Even at a distance Meren saw that one carried the blue standard of the House of Mamose, and as they came closer still their features were clearly Egyptian. Meren started forward to meet them. As the two parties came together they dismounted and embraced rapturously.

  ‘I am Captain Rabat,’ the leader introduced himself, ‘an officer in the legion of Colonel Ah-Akhton in the service of Pharaoh Nefer Seti.’

  ‘I am Colonel Meren Cambyses, on a special duty for the same divine pharaoh.’ Rabat acknowledged his superior ranking with a salute of one fist clenched across his breast. Meren went on, ‘And this is the magus, Taita of Gallala.’ True respect dawned in Rabat’s eyes and he saluted again. Taita saw from his aura that Rabat was man of limited intelligence, but honest and without guile.

  ‘Your fame precedes you, Magus. Please allow me to guide you to our encampment, where you will be our honoured guest.’

  Rabat had ignored Fenn for she was a child, but she was conscious of the snub. ‘I don’t like this Rabat,’ Fenn told Taita in Shilluk. ‘He is arrogant.’

  Taita smiled. She had become accustomed to her favoured position. In this she reminded him strongly of Lostris when she had been sovereign of Egypt. ‘He is only a rough soldier,’ he consoled her, ‘and beneath your consideration.’ Appeased, her expression softened.

  ‘What are your orders, Magus?’ Rabat asked.

  ‘The rest of our contingent follows with a large train of baggage.’ Taita pointed at the dustcloud on the plain. ‘Please send one of your men back to guide them.’ Rabat despatched a man at once, then led the rest of them up the steep, rocky pathway towards the crest of the pass.

  ‘Where is Colonel Ah-Akhton, your commander?’ Taita asked, as he rode at Rabat’s side.

  ‘He died of the swamp-sickness during our advance up the river.’

  ‘That was seven years ago?’ Taita asked.

  ‘Nay, Magus. It was nine years and two months,’ Rabat corrected him, ‘the term of our exile from our beloved homeland, Egypt.’

  Taita realized that he had forgotten to include the time it would have taken them to reach this place since leaving Karnak. ‘Who commands the army in Colonel Ah-Akhton’s place?’ he asked.

  ‘Colonel Tinat Ankut.’

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘He led the army southwards along the river in accordance with the command of Pharaoh. He left me here with only twenty men and some women, those with very young children who had been born during the march or those who were too sick or weak to continue.’

  ‘Why did Colonel Tinat leave you here?’

  ‘I was ordered to plant crops, to keep a herd of horses ready for him, and to hold a base in his rear to which he could retire, if he were forced to retreat from the wild lands to the south.’

  ‘Have you had news of him since he marched away?’

  ‘Some months later he sent back three men with all of his surviving horses. It seems that he had journeyed into a country to the south that is infested with a fly whose sting is fatal to horses and he had lost almost all of his herd. Since those three arrived, we have had no word of him. He and his men have been swallowed up by the wilderness. That was many long years ago. You are the first civilized men we have met in all that time.’ He sounded forlorn.

  ‘You have not thought to abandon this place and take your people back to Egypt?’ Taita asked, to gauge his mettle.

  ‘I have thought on it,’ Rabat admitted, ‘but my orders and my duty are to hold this post.’ He hesitated, then went on, ‘Besides, the man-eating Chima and the great swamps stand between us and our very Egypt.’ Which is probably the most telling reason why you have remained at your post, Taita thought. As they talked they came out at the head of the pass and before them stretched a wide plateau. Almost at once they felt that the air of this high place was more pleasant than that on the plains below.

  There were scattered herds of grazing cattle, and beyond them Taita was astonished to see the mud walls of a substantial military fort. It seemed out of place in this remote and savage landscape; the first sign of civilization they had come across since they had left the fort of Qebui more than two years previously. This was a lost outpost of empire of which no one in Egypt was aware.

  ‘What is the name of this place?’ Taita asked.

  ‘Colonel Tinat called it Fort Adari.’

  They rode among the grazing cattle, tall, rangy animals with huge humped shoulders and a wide spread of heavy horns. The coat of each had a distinctive colour and pattern, no two alike. They were red or white, black or yellow, with contrasting blotches and spots.

  ‘Where did you find these cattle?’ Taita asked. ‘I have seen none other like them.’

  ‘We trade them with the native tribes. They call them zebu. The herds provide us with milk and beef. Without them we would suffer even greater hardship than we do at present.’

  Meren frowned and opened his mouth to reprimand Rabat for his lack of spirit, but Taita read his intention, and cautioned him with a quick shake of his head. Although Taita agreed with both Fenn and Meren on the fellow’s worth, it would not be of any benefit to them to offend him. Almost certainly, they would need his co-operation later. The fields around the fort were planted with dhurra, melons and vegetable crops that Taita did not recognize. Rabat told them the outlandish native names, and dismounted to pick a large shiny black fruit, which he handed to Taita. ‘When cooked in a stew of meat they are tasty and nutritious.’

  When they reached the fort the women and children of the garrison came out through the gates to welcome them, carrying bowls of soured milk and platters of dhurra cake. Altogether there were fewer than fifty and they were a bedraggled, sorry-looking lot, although they were friendly enough. Accommodation in the fort was limited. The women offered a small windowless cell to Taita and Fenn. The floor was of packed earth, ants moved in
military file along the rough-hewn walls and shiny black cockroaches scurried into cracks in the log walls. The smell of the unwashed bodies and chamber-pots of the previous occupants was pervasive. Rabat explained apologetically that Meren and the rest, officers and men alike, would have to bunk with his soldiers in the communal barracks. With expressions of gratitude and regret, Taita declined this offer of hospitality.

  Taita and Meren chose a congenial site half a league beyond the fort, in a grove of shady trees on the banks of a running stream. Rabat, who was plainly relieved not to have them in the fort, honoured Meren’s Hawk Seal and provided them with fresh milk, dhurra and, at regular intervals, a slaughtered ox.

  ‘I hope we are not to stay long in this place,’ Hilto remarked to Taita, on the second day. ‘The mood of these people is so despondent that it will lower the morale of our men. Their spirits are high, and I would like them to remain so. Besides, all the women are married and most of our men have been celibate for too long. Soon they will want to sport with them and there will be trouble.’

  ‘I assure you, good Hilto, that we will move on as soon as we have made the arrangements.’ Taita and Meren spent the following days in close consultation with the melancholy Rabat.

  ‘How many men went south with Colonel Tinat?’ Taita wanted to know.

  Like many illiterates, Rabat had a reliable memory and he replied without hesitation: ‘Six hundred and twenty-three, with one hundred and forty-five women.’

  ‘Merciful Isis, was that all who remained of the original thousand who marched from Karnak?’

  ‘The swamps were trackless and deep,’ Rabat explained. ‘We were laid low with swamp-sickness. Our guides were unreliable and we were attacked by the native tribes. Our losses of men and horses were heavy. Surely you had the same experience, for you must have covered the same ground to reach Adari.’

  ‘Yes, indeed. However, the water was lower, and our guides faultless.’

  ‘Then you were more fortunate than ourselves.’

  ‘You said that Colonel Tinat sent men and horses back here. How many horses were there?’ Taita switched to a more agreeable subject.

  ‘They brought back fifty-six, all fly-struck. Most died after reaching us. Only eighteen survived. Once they had delivered the horses, Colonel Tinat’s men went south again to rejoin him. They took with them the porters I had recruited for them.’

  ‘So none of Tinat’s men remains with you?’

  ‘One was so ill that I kept him here. He has survived to this day.’

  ‘I would like to question him,’ Taita told him.

  ‘I will send for him at once.’

  The sole survivor was tall but skeletally thin. Taita saw at once that his emaciated frame and thin white hair were relics of disease, rather than signs of age. Despite this he had recovered his health. He was cheerful and willing, unlike most of the other men under Rabat’s command.

  ‘I have heard of your ordeal,’ Taita told him, ‘and I commend your courage and zeal.’

  ‘You are the only one who has, Magus, and I thank you for it.’

  ‘What is your name?’

  ‘Tolas.’

  ‘Your rank?’

  ‘I am a horse surgeon and a sergeant of the first water.’

  ‘How far had you ventured south before Colonel Tinat sent you to bring back the surviving horses?’

  ‘About twenty days’ travel, Magus, perhaps two hundred leagues. Colonel Tinat was determined to travel fast – too fast. I believe this increased our loss of horses.’

  ‘Why was he in such haste?’ Taita asked.

  Tolas smiled thinly. ‘He did not confide in me, Magus, nor seek my counsel.’

  Taita thought for a while. It seemed possible that Tinat had come under the influence of the witch, and that she had enticed him southwards. ‘Then, good Tolas, tell me about the disease that attacked the horses. Captain Rabat mentioned it to me, but he gave no details. What makes you think that it was caused by these flies?’

  ‘It broke out ten days after we first encountered the insects. The horses began to sweat excessively and their eyes filled with blood so that they became half blind. Most died within ten or fifteen days of the first symptoms occurring.’

  ‘You are a horse surgeon. Do you know of any cure?’

  Tolas hesitated, but did not answer the question. Instead he remarked, ‘I saw the grey mare you ride. I have seen many tens of thousands of horses in my lifetime, but I would think that mare is as good as the best of them. You might never find another like her.’

  ‘It is clear that you are a fine judge of horseflesh, Tolas, but why do you tell me this?’

  ‘Because it would be a shame to sacrifice such a horse to the fly. If you are determined to go on, as I think you are, leave the mare and her foal with me until you return. I will look after her as though she were my own child.’

  ‘I will think on it,’ Taita told him. ‘But to return to my question: do you know of any remedy for the fly sickness?’

  ‘The native tribes hereabouts have a potion that they distil from wild berries. They dose their cattle with it.’

  ‘Why did they not warn Colonel Tinat of this disease before he left Fort Adari?’

  ‘At that time we had no contact with the tribes. It was only when I returned with the fly-ridden herd that they came forward to sell us the medicine.’

  ‘Is it efficacious?’

  ‘It is not infallible,’ Tolas told him. ‘It appears to me that it will cure six out of ten horses that have been fly-struck. But perhaps those horses I tried it on had already been too long infected.’

  ‘What would have been your losses if you had not used it?’

  ‘I cannot tell for certain.’

  ‘Then guess.’

  ‘It seems to me that some animals have a natural resistance to the sting. A very few, say, five in a hundred, will show no ill-effects. Others, perhaps thirty or forty in a hundred, will sicken but recover. The rest die. Any animal that is infected but recovers is immune to any subsequent infection.’

  ‘How do you know this?’

  ‘The natives know it well.’

  ‘How many of the horses in your care have been infected but have recovered?’

  ‘Most were too far gone before we could dose them. However, eighteen are salted,’ Tolas answered promptly, then clarified, ‘They are immune.’

  ‘So, Tolas, I will need a goodly supply of this native potion. Can you procure it for me?’

  ‘I can do better. I have had almost nine years to study the matter. Although the tribesmen are secretive and will not divulge the recipe, I have discovered for myself the plant that they use. I have spied upon them while their women are gathering it.’

  ‘You will show it to me?’

  ‘Of course, Magus,’ Tolas agreed readily. ‘But, again, I caution you that even when treated many horses will still die. Your grey mare is too fine an animal to expose to such risk.’

  Taita smiled. It was apparent that Tolas had fallen in love with Windsmoke and was angling for a way to keep her with him. ‘I will take into careful consideration all you have told me. But now my main concern is to learn the secret of the cure.’

  ‘With the permission of Captain Rabat, I will take you into the forest tomorrow to gather the berries. It is a ride of several hours to reach the area where they grow.’

  ‘Excellent.’ Taita was pleased. ‘Now describe for me the road to the south that you travelled with Colonel Tinat.’ Tolas told them all he could remember, while Fenn made notes on a clay tablet. When he had finished Taita said, ‘What you have told me, Tolas, is invaluable, but now you must describe how we will recognize the boundary of the fly territory.’

  Tolas placed his forefinger on the sketch map that Fenn had drawn on the tablet. ‘On about the twentieth day of the journey southwards you will come upon a pair of hills shaped like a virgin’s breasts. They will be visible from several leagues off. Those hills mark the boundary. I counsel you not to take the
grey mare further. You will lose her in the sad country that lies beyond.’

  The next morning Captain Rabat went with them, riding beside Taita, when they set out in search of the berries. The pace was easy, and they had much opportunity to talk.

  After several hours, Tolas led them into a grove of enormous wild fig trees strung out along the bank of the river, deep in the gorge. Most of the branches were draped with serpentine vines, upon which grew clusters of small purple-black berries. Fenn, Tolas and three other men, whom Tolas had brought from the fort, climbed into the trees. Each had a leather harvesting bag slung round their neck into which they packed the fruit. When they clambered down from the trees their hands were stained purple and the berries emitted a sickly, putrid odour. Fenn offered a handful to Whirlwind, but the colt refused it. Windsmoke was equally disdainful.

  ‘It is not to their natural taste, I grant, but if you mix the berries into dhurra meal and bake it into cakes they will eat them readily enough,’ Tolas said. He lit a fire and placed flat river stones in the flames. While they heated he demonstrated how to pound the fruit into a paste and mix it with the dhurra meal. ‘The proportions are important. One of fruit to five of the meal. Any larger amount of the berries and the horse will refuse it, or if they eat it they will purge excessively,’ he explained. When the stones were crackling hot he put handfuls of the mixture on to them and let it bake into hard cakes. He laid them aside to cool and began another batch. ‘The cakes will keep without spoiling for many months, even in the worst conditions. The horses will eat them even when they are covered with green mould.’

  Fenn picked one up and burnt her fingers. She passed it from hand to hand and blew on it until it cooled, then took it to Windsmoke. The mare sniffed it, fluttering her nostrils. Then she took it between her lips and rolled her eyes at Taita.

  ‘Go on, you silly thing,’ he told her sternly. ‘Eat. It is good for you.’