Beth came forward nervously, clutching a corner of her robe, but when she spoke her voice was steady. “Most High and Gracious Majesty, I have never in my life been away from Gebal and its mountain. But my brother Aleph went away many weeks ago, and took one of my pigeons. Today I found that it had returned, with a message on papyrus round its leg. I can’t ask the High Priest to read it because he would not understand—I mean it’s written in the signs my brother and I invented, as a game. But look, Your Majesty, even you could read it in a few minutes if I showed you. Only twenty-two letters!”
Not noticing the outraged expressions on the faces of the priests and scribes, Beth had impulsively approached the throne with the little scrap of paper that had come so many miles on the pigeon’s leg.
“Look!” she said. “Here’s a letter Aleph, that’s my brother’s name. And here’s a Beth, that’s for me.” But then she hesitated. “Oh, Your Majesty,” she faltered, “I’m afraid you are not going to like this. I had forgotten what it spelled. It says the Egyptians are advancing up the coast to attack Gebal.”
10
The Dog River
How the Dog River got its name—Gebal withstands the Egyptian army from the South, but the Mitannians break through in the North
“I used to think it was an easy thing to be a king,” Beth told herself as she sat quietly in a corner of the council chamber. “But, poor man, what a difficult problem he has to solve!”
King Abishram of Gebal was no longer the remote, haughty monarch he appeared in peace time ceremonies. He was striding up and down the council chamber with a frown on his face. He was even twisting his fine beard. The council of war had gone on all night, opened by Zayin’s fiery proposal that they must attack and destroy all their enemies. Subsequently, many councilors had put other points and suggested alternative plans. Now the King was trying to reach a decision.
“General Zayin, what was it you were saying in your simple soldierly way at the beginning of the meeting?”
“I merely said we should meet our enemies with force. But I see now—”
“You were right, General Zayin. Make immediate dispositions to resist attacks from north or south. And you, Captain Nun, must help to do the same by sea. The council is ended.”
The council members bowed and withdrew, relieved that the long session was over and decisions had been made. But the King stayed, twisting his beard, oppressed by the weight of his responsibilities.
A little south of Gebal is a point where the steep mountains come nearest to the seashore. There is no coastal strip, only a narrow ledge between the cliffs and the water. And at this point, a river flows down a deep gorge into the sea. It is a gently flowing river, and its banks are covered with trees and orchards. Zayin chose this spot to defend the southern approaches. He was satisfied that no better place existed for a small army to resist a large one. The Egyptian troops would have to pass in almost single file along the narrow ledge, and a few determined men could block their passage indefinitely. Besides, it was a pleasant and suitable camp, with plenty of fresh water, and supplies of food could be brought from the interior along the river valley. He was wondering now if it was not too pleasant.
The trouble was that the troops did not believe in the emergency. They had marched out full of fight and defiance, singing their battle songs and shouting their war cries. Then they had reached the river and camped. The first night they had slept under the stars with their weapons by their sides. By the next night little shelters had sprung up, thatched with leaves. As the days passed, and no enemy came in sight, a village of little huts had grown up, in which the men had made themselves comfortable.
Zayin, as Commander-in-Chief, could not stay in camp all the time. He had got his horse again—the only horse in the Army of Gebal—and he was able to ride between the southern and northern defenses and inspect their state of readiness. One day he had arrived unexpectedly at the camp on the river and found that whole families had come out to keep the soldiers company—women, children, sheep, goats, and dogs. He soon sent the women and children packing, but he kept the sheep and goats to provide fresh meat and milk, and the dogs to look after them. Another time he had arrived late in the evening to find all the troops that were off duty gathered round fires singing at the tops of their voices and dancing to the sound of drums and other instruments. There was nearly a mutiny when he strode into the circle of firelight and told them to stop. They had listened with sullen faces when he asked them what was the point of lying in ambush if an enemy could hear the noise they made ten miles away. He was sorry he had to shut them up: he was all for a bit of song and dance himself and it was difficult to keep the troops cheerful during a long wait like this; but the defense of the country must come first.
The days and weeks passed, and still the patrols in the North brought no reports of the Mitanni, Nun’s guard ships that cruised offshore saw no signs of the Cretan Navy, and no Egyptian advance guard appeared up the coast road from the South. Back in Gebal even their friends had begun to laugh at Zayin and Nun and Beth, asking them what had become of their “intelligence” and their prophecies. The troops themselves were incredulous. Many of them were conscripts, rather than professional soldiers, and they thought of their neglected farms and trades as they waited around doing nothing. Yet they still had enough respect for their General to put up a show of efficiency even when he turned up unexpectedly—in fact, Zayin suspected that they kept a better look-out for his visits than for the enemy. To find out what the state of morale was really like, he decided to make his inspections dressed as an ordinary soldier.
It was night at the southern river. The main camp slept, guarded by sentries who stood in pairs, talking quietly to each other. At some distance from the camp was the farthest outpost, on the ledge between the mountain and the sea, where two look-outs were supposed to watch the track from the South by night and day.
The two look-outs, two ordinary soldiers whose names were Ain and Shin, had in fact found themselves comfortable seats in a niche of the rock from which they could see nothing but the light of the setting moon glittering on the sea. They had kept watch together like this for many nights, they knew each other well, and they did not have much left to talk about.
“One thing,” Ain was saying, “soon as that moon goes down we won’t be able to see a thing. Be too dark. Might as well have a sleep.”
“Makes no difference,” said Shin. “Dark or not dark, there’s nothing to see. You know it and I know it. Might as well sleep, anyway.”
“You’re right. Not a living creature on this coast for a hundred miles—except that old dog barking out there. We’re wasting our time. You know it and I know it. Dare say even the General knows it. Keep your eyes skinned for the Egyptians, he says. Egyptians! What would they be doing here?”
“Remember my old granddad saying he seen Egyptians up the coast.”
“In the olden days, maybe he did. There was a real Pharaoh those days. You know what? They say there’s a woman rules Egypt nowadays. Reckon we don’t have to worry about the Egyptians.”
“Don’t know though. Women! They can cause more trouble than anything. Wouldn’t trust a she-Pharaoh farther’n I could see her.” There was a pause while he looked at the setting moon. “Wouldn’t mind holding hands with a girl and watching that old moon though.”
“Girls! Don’t talk to me about girls. You know, we wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for a bint.”
“What you mean, wouldn’t be here?”
“Haven’t you heard? It’s all over the camp. There’s this young woman, see, and she’s a witch. Some say she’s the General’s sister, or something. She got animals and birds that talk to her, and they told her the Egyptians was coming up the coast to attack us. Why else do you think we’re here?”
“A witch, eh? Maybe she knows something then. We had an old woman in our village—she was a witch. Cured our old cow though, that she did. She k
new what she was doing all right.”
“Well, I reckon this one don’t. Else why are we sitting here night after night, and nothing happening?”
Shin suddenly stiffened: “Shh! Someone coming!”
“Can’t hear nothing,” said Ain. “’Cept that old dog, barking down the shore there. You’re imagining Egyptians, with all this talk.”
“Not that way, from the camp, you donkey. It may be the sergeant.” Shin got up and looked toward the camp.
“It’d be the first time the sergeant’s been up this time of the morning for long enough. May be our relief though. Early for once—instead of two hours late!”
The moonlight showed a solitary figure with the spear and helmet of a common soldier approaching beneath the cliffs. Shin whistled, but the newcomer made no sound until he had come up to the niche where the men rested.
“What’s the matter with you, then?” asked Shin. “Too hot to sleep in the camp?”
“You two seem to have made yourselves comfortable enough here,” said the newcomer.
“Yes, it’s a cozy little kip, see! And nobody can’t creep up from the camp without us seeing them,” said Shin.
But Ain was looking hard at the newcomer in the moonlight. “You’re new, aren’t you? Who sent you up? There’s supposed to be two reliefs.”
“Not time to change the watch yet,” said the third man shortly. “I’ve come to strengthen the guard. Special instructions.”
“What’s on, then?” asked Ain. “General’s inspection or something?”
“Don’t worry about the General,” said the newcomer. “I can promise you if you haven’t seen him yet you won’t see him for a long while. Anything to report?”
“Anything to report!” mocked Shin. “Hark at him! You are new, aren’t you. Where have you been—staff headquarters?”
“We don’t say as how we haven’t slain a few score Egyptian charioteers in the silent watches of the night, like,” said Ain. “But nothing really to report, apart from that. Things are pretty quiet.”
“And if it wasn’t for a fool of a dog barking at a jackal down the coast there, keeping us awake, we’d have had a nice long sleep.”
“Had a look down the coast recently?” asked the newcomer.
“Now look here!” said Ain. “You may be new to this unit, but you’d better get used to things as they are. Down the coast there, there may be ghosts and demons and evil spirits for all we know, but there ain’t a flesh-and-blood human being, let alone an Egyptian soldier, for a hundred miles. I know it, and my mate Shin knows it, and the sergeant knows it, and all the other silly soldiers as have been sitting on this rock for weeks knows it. And the General himself knows it. Only because of this here witch with the talking birds he don’t dare tell the King. All we got to do is make ourselves comfortable, and see that no brass-helmeted officer don’t creep up on us unawares, and after a few more weeks sitting on this here rock looking at nothing we’ll all go home and see to the harvest, if there is one. So don’t you come along at this hour of the night and start making things difficult. All right, son?”
Zayin—for the newcomer was no less a person than the General himself—said nothing. He had visited the post to find out for himself just what the soldiers on guard were thinking and doing. He did not want to arouse suspicion by insisting on greater attention to duty. The worst of it was that he was beginning to have the same sort of doubts about the reality of the invasion. He had seen for himself in the North the preparations for a campaign, and yet no enemy had appeared from the North. His brother Nun was a hard-headed sailor, even if he were a little crazy on the subject of stars, and no doubt he had good evidence of the Cretan threat—yet still no hostile warships had appeared over the horizon. As to the Egyptian’s intentions’—all they had to go on was Beth’s mumbo-jumbo with the bird and this infantile secret writing which only she and Aleph were supposed to understand. For some reason it had impressed the King, but as grounds for mobilizing an army it was beginning to look a little shaky.
He took a seat in the niche of the rocks and looked at the sea. The moonlight made a path right up to where the moon was about to sink behind the horizon. Little waves broke gently on the rocky shore below them. It was all very peaceful—except when the yapping of the dog disturbed the silence again. It was getting shriller, and more and more excited.
“What’s got into that wretched animal, then?” asked Shin. “Why can’t it sleep at this hour of night, and give us a bit of peace?”
“Cornered a jackal, like you said,” murmured Ain.
“Yes, but come to think of it what’s a jackal doing down on the shore?”
“All right, then, it’s a fish he’s got cornered, what’s it matter?”
Zayin hardly heard the conversation about the dog. He was thinking about his family, about the King, about the High Priest, who he knew would be happy to ruin him and all his relations; he was wondering what would happen in the future if all the talk of war proved unjustified. They would all look fools, and it might, indeed, mean ruin.
“Some folks say dogs can see spirits,” Shin was saying nervously.
“Why don’t you go and see for yourself what the brute’s barking at, then?” said Ain irritably. “And give it a kick and tell it to shut up while you’re about it.”
“You come with me, then.”
“What, both of us go! Who keeps a look-out toward the camp, then?”
Zayin could not help smiling to himself. “I’ll do that,” he said. “I’ll make sure the General doesn’t catch us unawares. I’d recognize him if I saw him.”
Ain sighed wearily and got to his feet. “Anything for a little peace and quiet,” he said. “Though it’s a wonder the General lets those noisy beasts stay around.”
Zayin was left with his thoughts as the two soldiers went off round the cliff face. If peace time conditions returned, where did he stand in Gebal, with his father and brothers? A General who had lost an army, a Captain who had lost a cargo, a scribe who had run away, and the father of a family who had nothing to offer on Offering Day. He was so wrapped up in his bitter thoughts that he hardly noticed the two soldiers returning. They, were moving quickly, but with surprisingly little noise; near to, Zayin could hear them breathing hard and thickly, and even in the moonlight their faces looked unusually pale.
“What is it, then,” he asked. “Bad spirits?”
“Gods of Gebal!” gasped Ain. “It’s the Egyptians! What’ll we do?”
Zayin sprang to his feet. “Egyptians!” he exclaimed. “You saw them? You mean you two have been sitting here and the enemy’s almost upon us!”
But he found that the spear of Ain was leveled at his own throat. “Don’t give us none of that!” Ain was grating, still panting for breath. “You was sitting here, too, whoever you are. It’s Egyptians all right—plain as anything in the moonlight. Now what are we going to do—that’s what Į want to know?”
He’s right, thought Zayin. He knocked the spear down with his hand. “Come on then, man, tell us what you’ve seen,” he said in a voice of authority. “How many of ’em? Advance guard? Main guard? Are they advancing or halted? How far off are they? Don’t stand there, man, speak!”
The soldiers seemed to recognize the authority in his voice. They stood to attention and gasped out their report.
“Scouts—a handful of ’em—coming along the cliff ledge!”
“Another lot rounding the far point—saw their helmets in the moonlight.”
“Scouts’ll be here any minute.”
“Just the old dog on the ledge—barking and growling at ’em—hold ’em up for a bit—before they do him in.”
“That dog will get a medal, or a monument!” muttered Zayin. “Right, who can run fastest?”
“Shin, he’s younger,” said Ain.
“Move then! No noise mind! Straight to the camp
commandant. Tell him to stand the troops to according to orders. No drums or trumpets! What are you waiting for then? Want to stay here and die?”
“No, but—”
“Well, man, what is it?”
“Whose orders shall I say?”
Zayin pulled a ring from his finger. “Take this! Tell him General Zayin sent the orders—and that the General and one private soldier are engaging the enemy until he brings reinforcements.”
Zayin heard another gasp from the soldier, this time of astonishment, and then the man moved swiftly off toward the camp. Zayin turned to his companion.
“Well, man, what are your duties when you sight the enemy?”
“I—I can’t remember, sir.”
“I’ll tell you then. This niche may make itself useful after all. The scouts will have to come round this point of rock one after the other. By the favor of the Gods, we know they’re coming, and they don’t know we’re here—they didn’t see you, did they?”
“No, sir, we took care of that.”
“Right. They must not see us. Keep close until they’re past—then they must die without a sound. If their army’s got any march discipline, the advance guard won’t come on until the scouts signal all clear. That will hold them up for a bit. If not, we two will have to hold up the whole advance guard. Understand?”
“Yes, sir,” said Ain grimly. “I understand.”
The General and the private soldier drew back into the darkness of the rock. Zayin unsheathed his sword, Ain held his spear at the ready. They listened to the frantic barking of the dog. Then it stopped suddenly. The two men exchanged looks in the obscurity, as soldiers do on the battlefield when a casualty occurs. There was now no sound but the washing of the sea.
They waited. After an age, there was the clang of a shield against rock. They waited. The steady sound of footsteps on the stony track came to their ears, and then muttered words. Both men held their breath. One after the other, two figures appeared, outlined against the stars and the sea. One each! The Egyptians stood there, looking onward up the coast, their backs to the crevice that concealed Ain and Zayin. Zayin nudged Ain with his elbow, they moved together. Sword and spear found their marks, and the Egyptians fell without a cry. One sprawled on the track; the other pitched forward on to the rocks below, and his shield first clanged on the rocks, then splashed into the sea.
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