by Severin, Tim
‘If it gets any hotter, Madi and Modi may not survive,’ I observed to Abram on the evening we camped on the fringe of the marshlands where the boggy ground was too soft even for pack animals. Here the road turned aside, striking into the wilderness.
‘There should be enough water in the great barrel to sluice them down if they begin to show signs of distress, and one of my own men will stand guard over the water cart at night,’ Abram said quietly.
The edge to his voice made me look at him sharply. ‘You still think that someone might try to sabotage the embassy?’ I asked. It had been on my mind too, but the dragoman’s decision-making had been so astute thus far, I knew I should heed his advice.
‘Draining the water tank would be a good way of doing it once we’ve entered the desert. It would be no harm to take precautions.’
Abram’s concerns weighed on me and that first night I found it difficult to sleep. He had replaced all the camp equipment lost at sea when Protis’s ship sank and Osric and I were sharing a small tent. While my friend slept soundly I tossed and turned, swatting away the humming insects, listening for suspicious noises, remembering the sounds that had awakened me on the night Protis had died. Shortly before midnight I got up and went to check on the water barrel, finding one of Abram’s servants on guard and also wide awake. Relieved, I returned to my tent and when finally I did fall asleep, it was to drift off into a troubled dream: I was aboard a ship sailing, not on the sea, but across the land. I had to steer around rocks and trees, down the streets of towns and up the slopes of hills. It left me with a queasy feeling and when I opened my eyes I had a nagging headache and it was daybreak. Judging by the volume of camel grunting and bellowing, the beasts were already being loaded for the day’s march.
Osric was already awake, kneeling to roll up his sleeping mat.
‘Do you remember if the Oneirokritikon says anything about ships sailing on the land?’ I asked him.
He sat back on his heels and waited for me to explain.
I described my dream to him. From outside came shouts and oaths, then the sounds of a stick being used vigorously. Someone was getting the cart-hauling camels under way.
‘There’s a straightforward explanation,’ he said. ‘You were expecting to cross Egypt along a canal by boat. Instead, we are obliged to go by land. That’s a more difficult journey.’
He reached for the walking staff that lay on the ground beside him. It helped offset the limp from his crooked leg while we were on the march. ‘But, since you ask, there was a mention in the Book of Dreams about a ship sailing across the land.’
‘What does it say?’
‘That to dream of sailing a ship across the land, while avoiding rocks and obstacles, foretells a journey beset with many difficulties and dangers.’ He got to his feet and gently poked me in the ribs with the end of the staff. ‘As far as I’m concerned, that’s no prophecy. It’s something we already know. You had better get up now or the caravan will move on without you.’
Later that morning, we found ourselves venturing out into a dun-coloured stony plain. There was no soil, just scoured rock and the occasional patch of sand or gravel. We walked deeper into the barren land, the wheels of the travelling cages crunching on the broken stones of the rough track. The sun was merciless, the bare rock throwing back the heat, and it felt as if we were walking into a gigantic oven. The only plants were weed, thickets of thorn bushes and a few stunted trees with twisted leafless limbs. Every couple of miles we paused to draw off buckets of water from the water cart so that our animals could drink. The water that remained in the buckets was thrown over them to try to cool them off. But it was no more than a gesture. Soon the ice bears were panting and their fur was a lifeless yellow.
‘How many days will we be in the desert?’ I asked Abram after the caravan halted for the night. The camels had been unloaded and hobbled in a tight group, their packs stacked to make an open square around them. Their drivers were lighting fires of thorn twigs. Under a clear sky it was going to be chilly.
‘The guide says we should reach the sea at the port of al-Qulzum in four days’ time,’ the dragoman replied. He looked past me, over my shoulder. ‘It looks as if Walo has found something.’
I turned to see Walo walking towards us, carefully holding something cupped between his hands. When he was no more than two yards away, he announced proudly, ‘It’s a baby.’
I looked to see what he was carrying so tenderly, then sprang back in fright. Cradled in Walo’s hands was a small serpent. The length of my forearm, it had a thick body with dusty brown scales and dark markings. The head was broad and flat.
‘It’s a young one,’ Walo repeated, holding up the snake so I could see it more closely. The hair rose on the back of my neck and I backed away.
‘A young what?’ I asked. I had broken into a cold sweat. I hate snakes.
‘A young cerastes. The parents can’t be far away.’
My mind raced as I tried to follow what Walo was talking about. I had an uncomfortable feeling that the serpent was venomous. Yet in Walo’s hands it appeared completely at ease, not moving, though I could see its black tongue flicking in and out.
‘Look at its head, above the eyes,’ Walo urged, holding it up closer. It was as much as I could do to stifle a groan of fear as I swayed back out of range.
Now I understood what Walo was talking about. Above each eye of the little serpent projected a short spine like a tiny horn. There sprang into my mind the picture of the cerastes in the Book of Beasts. It was a serpent with a horn above each eye and, as I recollected, a body that had no spine so that it could tie itself in knots. As if to confirm my thoughts, the serpent slithered and twisted in Walo’s cupped hands, rearranging its coils into tight loops.
‘It was hiding in the sand, just as the book says,’ stated Walo proudly. ‘The horns were standing up, attracting the birds so it could ambush them.’
‘I suggest you return it to where you found it,’ I croaked, ‘its parent might come looking for it, and that could be fatal.’
Casually, Walo lowered one hand and poured the snake from one cupped palm to the other, like a length of scaly rope.
One of the camel handlers was walking past. He took one look at the serpent and let out a yell of alarm, then took to his heels.
Abram came to my rescue. ‘Walo, the cerastes’ parents will be distressed if they find their baby missing.’
Reluctantly, Walo bent down and placed the serpent gently on the ground. There was a writhing motion and, before my eyes, the serpent began to move away sideways, propelling itself in a series of ripples. When it reached a patch of soft sand, it paused then, with a sinuous swimming motion, pushed up the sand around itself until it had disappeared. Only when I looked closely and very cautiously could I still see the sinister flat head just above the surface and the two protruding horns. I promised myself that whenever we camped, I would borrow Osric’s walking staff and poke every suspicious mark in the ground.
That same night we heard our first lions. Their deep, hoarse roars sent shivers down my spine. They began at a distance, then came closer and closer and, finally, from several directions as the beasts prowled around our camp. The sounds were unmistakable, several long roars followed by shorter coughing grunts gradually fading away to nothing as though their lungs were empty. Creeping to the flap of our small tent I looked out and saw bright flames leaping higher from the campfires as the night watchmen threw on more dry twigs. The light cast flickering shadows on our animal cages. The aurochs was standing up, motionless, a hulking dark shadow behind the bars. I detected no movement from where Walo had chosen to sleep on the ground beneath the ice bears’ cage, the dogs tied beside him. To my right and at the outer edge of the firelight, several pairs of animal eyes shone in the darkness. For a chilling moment I feared that our dogs had got free. I plucked up my courage and was about to crawl out of the tent and retrieve them when a branch on the fire flared up. The sudden strengthening of the light rev
ealed the shapes of three or four wild animals. They had the shape of large dogs but oddly distorted. By the time I had recognized the coarse heads and over-size shoulders and the sloping loins, the creatures had wheeled about and darted away. Some time later I heard a new sound from the darkness, a chorus that was part howl, part laugh, and knew that I had seen hyenas.
The boldness of the lions was troubling. The following day, and the day after that, several of the tawny creatures kept pace with us, not far off. They were usually in twos and threes and made no attempt to conceal themselves. Our camel drivers took precautions. Men armed with spears and bows walked on each side of our column, and we stopped well before sunset so that there was time to cut thorn bushes and construct a barricade around the hollow square inside which they hobbled the camels. The bonfires they built were much larger than before, and they kept them burning brightly throughout the dark hours. On both nights, without fail, we heard the deep, coughing roars of the lions, followed by answering manic cries from the hyenas.
‘They’re laughing at us,’ observed Osric. Our little group was sitting close to one of the bonfires as we began a third night in the desert. The calls of the wild beasts had started earlier than usual, even before it was fully dark. This night the hyena pack was leading the chorus.
‘They’re laughing at the lions, not at us,’ corrected Walo. He showed no signs of alarm even though I had reminded him of the bestiary’s warning about the creatures.
‘Why would they want to mock the lions?’ Osric enquired.
‘Because they hope to shame the lions into action.’
Osric threw me a quick sideways glance. He was always careful not to make Walo feel as though he was being teased. ‘I thought lions were meant to be courageous,’ he said.
‘The hyenas think the lions are foolish to be scared of the noise of our waggon wheels,’ said Walo firmly. I realized he was reciting what I had read out to him months earlier from the bestiary: that lions fear the noise of waggon wheels and the sound of a white cock crowing.
Abram spoke up from the other side of the fire. ‘And why aren’t the hyenas fearful too?’
Walo was in no doubt. ‘They are very hungry and must be fed. They want the lions to kill one of us so that after we bury the body, they can dig up the grave and eat his flesh.’
At that moment a great hoarse roar shook the air, louder than anything we had heard before. It came from somewhere in the darkness to our left, beyond the three waggons drawn up in a line as part of the barricade surrounding our camp.
‘What do you think, Sigwulf? Are the hyenas encouraging the lions to attack us?’ said Abram turning in my direction.
‘It’s possible,’ I answered. ‘Every night I’ve seen the eyes of three or four hyenas shining in the darkness, close to the camp. They’ve been watching us, and waiting.’
‘Nasty-looking beasts,’ agreed Osric. ‘I’ll be glad when we get to al-Qulzum.’
‘The hyenas are patient because they know something will happen,’ said Walo softly.
I heard Abram suck in his breath, a derisive sound, and was reminded how he had teased Protis for his belief in the Minotaur.
‘Walo may be right,’ I intervened. ‘Maybe the hyenas do know what will happen. The Book of Beasts says that in the eye of a hyena there’s a stone. If a man puts that stone beneath his tongue, he will be able to see into the future.’
‘Can’t be a pleasant taste, I’m sure,’ said Abram with a yawn. ‘I’m going to turn in.’
He got to his feet and went off to the tent he shared with his three Radhanite assistants. Walo, Osric and I stayed by the fire a little while longer, and when Walo left to make a final check on the ice bears, Osric and I retired to our small tent.
As Osric was taking off his heavy sandals, he suddenly turned to me. ‘If the Oneirokritikon can help us interpret our dreams, maybe the stone from a hyena’s eye really can help man look into the future.’
I was too tired to think of a sensible reply and, for the first time since we entered the desert, I found that I could shut out the noises of the wild beasts, and fell asleep almost at once.
*
‘The aurochs has escaped!’ The blunt announcement brought me sharply awake. I sat up, reaching for the cloak I had been using as a blanket. There was just enough light to make out Abram’s head and shoulders thrust in through the tent flap. I guessed it was just before sunrise, that quiet, still hour when the world seems to be waiting silently for the dawn of the new day. In the background I could hear the bubbling and groaning of the camels. But there were no lion roars.
‘When did it happen?’ I croaked. My lips were cracked and dry.
Abram dropped his voice, now that he had roused me. ‘Less than ten minutes ago. My man guarding the water tank heard the creature jump down from the cage. He came straight to me and raised the alarm.’
‘Where’s the aurochs now?’ I asked, rolling off my sleeping mat and hurriedly pulling on my boots. I did not even pause to give them a shake in case some crawling creature had occupied them during the night.
‘He says it ran off into the desert.’
‘Thank God it didn’t decide to go into the camp,’ I said. I didn’t want to imagine the havoc had the beast attacked the camels or gored the men.
I crawled out of the tent and together Abram and I headed at a fast walk towards the three waggons, dimly outlined against the sky where a sliver of moon hung close to the horizon. The bonfires were still alight, but had been allowed to die down. Firewood was scarce.
‘My man guarding the water tank thinks he saw someone near the cages, about an hour ago, but he couldn’t be sure,’ said the dragoman.
‘What about the caravan watchmen?’
‘I haven’t asked them. I wanted to report to you first.’
We reached the aurochs’ cage. The door was hanging half open. There was enough moonlight to cast faint shadows in the marks made in the sand by the animal’s great hooves as it jumped down from the waggon. I clambered up and checked the hinges of the gate. They were undamaged. Normally the door was held shut by two heavy wooden bars, thicker than my wrist. They fitted into deep slots on either side of the frame. Both bars had been removed and placed to one side. I ducked inside the cage itself. There was a half-full fodder net, a bucket of water, and several piles of pungent aurochs dung. The aurochs had not broken out. It had been set free deliberately.
Abram’s assistants were standing beside the waggon as I jumped back down to the ground. ‘Are the ice bears safe in their cage?’ I asked them.
‘They were, just a moment ago,’ answered one of the men. ‘I woke Walo and he’s gone to make sure that no one has interfered with the gyrfalcons.’
‘The dogs?’
‘All present and unharmed.’
So it seemed that only the aurochs had been targeted by the mysterious attacker. A figure loomed up. It was Walo.
‘Everything all right with the gyrfalcons?’ I asked him.
He nodded.
I became aware of an increase of noise from the hobbled camels, a hacking cough as someone cleared his throat, then spat, a stirring among the shapes of camel drivers sleeping on ground bundled in their cloaks. The camp was waking.
‘We must track down the aurochs as soon as there’s enough daylight. It should be easy enough to follow.’
‘And when we find it, how do we recapture it?’ asked Abram.
‘I don’t know,’ I said, suddenly despondent. After my first, active response to the crisis I was beginning to succumb to an overpowering weariness as I grasped the extent of the setback. ‘We’ll think of something. Right now we must pack our gear as usual and be ready to move. The caravan can’t linger or Modi and Madi will melt.’
It took another hour for the caravan to get under way. First came the morning prayer, then the camels were given their ration of fodder and the men sat down in small groups to breakfast on flat bread and a handful of dates washed down with a few gulps of water. By the ti
me the camels had their packsaddles and loads securely in place or had been harnessed to the waggons, the tracks left by the aurochs were easy to see. It had walked straight into the desert.
Leaving Osric in charge of our remaining animals, Abram, Walo and I set off in pursuit. We had gone no more than a mile and were still within plain view of the caravan behind us when we topped a small rise in the ground and came to a sudden halt. We were looking down into a shallow depression in the desert’s surface. The floor of the depression was a flat expanse of gravel dotted with small boulders. Stretched out on the gravel lay the body of the dead aurochs, the head and long horns twisted at an unnatural angle. Crouched on their bellies and feeding on the corpse were five lions. They were tearing and ripping at the flesh, their heads half buried in the entrails. One of the lions noticed our arrival. It raised its head and stared at us with its great, yellow eyes. We were close enough to see the jaws smeared with fresh blood.
For a long moment we froze, too shocked to move. Then, very slowly and cautiously we backed away, down the slope and out of sight of the great beasts.
My voice was unsteady as I whispered, ‘There’s nothing we can do. We must get back to the caravan.’
‘What about the horns?’ asked Walo.
I was so dumbfounded that I just stared at him.
‘For the king,’ said Walo. Only then did I remember the great silver-mounted aurochs’ horn in Alcuin’s room on the day when he had told me that I had an audience with Carolus. That time seemed impossibly far away.
‘No, Walo. It’s too dangerous,’ I said. It would have been the duty of Vulfard, Walo’s father, to present the horns of any large game animals to the king.
‘If we wait until the lions have stopped feeding—’ Walo began.
‘No!’ I hissed, angry now. I took a grip on his elbow in case he tried to get past me. ‘We leave the aurochs where it is.’