by Jerry Dubs
“Come on, scribe,” Pairy said, grabbing my shoulder and pulling me toward the entrance of the tavern.
Turning from the carving, I found myself standing before a mudbrick wall constructed with bricks of different hues and sizes. There were gaps in the wall where bricks had fallen out. Putting a hand on the wall, I felt the surface flake away and wondered how the wall managed to remain upright.
Palm branches, fallen from the roof, littered the base of the wall. Shaking my head at the shoddy construction, I turned to follow Pairy into the dark interior.
The doorway was canted. The lintel was a slanted, rotting piece of wood that looked as if it couldn’t support its own weight, much less the weight of the rows of bricks that rested on it.
We squeezed past a huddle of men who were leaning against a long plank of wood that served as a bar. Above their words and coughs and laughter, I heard the irregular rhythm of a song. I tried to hear the words, but the singing — interrupted by shrieks of laughter and bellowing shouts and grunts — was so hard to distinguish that I suspected that it was a foreign language.
Or perhaps it was the mad, chaotic babbling of Seth himself.
“Make room!” Pairy shouted, pushing aside unsteady bodies with one hand as he dragged me deeper into the tavern with his other hand.
Pushed by Pairy, several men stumbled awkwardly, caught themselves, sloshed beer on the dirt floor, and turned to see who owned the commanding voice. I saw them look at Pairy’s muscled shoulders, at the golden armbands on his biceps and the bone handle of the knife that was tucked into the waistband of his kilt.
“Hey, it’s a soldier,” one man shouted.
“No, it’s a charioteer,” another corrected him, seeing the horses that chased each other around the hem of Pairy’s kilt.
“Hey, soldier, why aren’t you with the army up at Megiddo?” a third voice called.
“He’s a deserter!” another shouted.
Releasing me, Pairy waved his hand to still the questions.
“Shut up!” he shouted. “Do you think a deserter would just stroll in here?”
He pushed his chest out and stared at the crowd. “I am Pairy,” he announced. “I ride with the maryannu and we just chased the King of Kadesh from the battlefield. He’s hiding behind the walls of Megiddo, shivering in fear with piss running down his legs.”
He spread his arms wide and shouted, “It’s been a long ride from Megiddo and I am thirsty. Who is going to get me a drink?”
While Pairy, who seemed to have forgotten me, waited for his drink, I looked about the room.
Curling tendrils of smoke rose from misshapen oil lamps. Buffeted by waving arms, the smoke swirled into vaporous wisps that disappeared as they rose toward the ceiling. As my eyes followed the rising smoke, I saw that the ceiling was more open sky than cross beams and palm leaves.
At least I didn’t have to worry any longer about the walls supporting the roof.
The singing and loud talking regained their strength. Turning back to Pairy, I saw that he was surrounded by men, some with unshaven heads, others with dirty cloths wrapped around their heads. They all leaned toward Pairy, who was gesturing with one hand and drinking from a wooden cup with the other. Pairy waved a hand to indicate the long line of enemy chariots the maryannu had faced.
I smiled. The lure of attention and of beer pulled Pairy’s attention away from my education.
I wasn’t sure whether I was relieved or disappointed.
Suddenly, Pairy roared out a battle cry, and lifted the cup to his mouth.
The men around him echoed the cry and raised their cups of beer.
I watched in fascination. Even though the men were several days’ ride from the battle, their eyes beamed with pride at Pharaoh Thutmose’s great victory. Their eyes followed every gesture Pairy made, their mouths twitching with anticipation when he tilted his head back to repeat the battle cry.
Suddenly I wanted to give voice to that battle cry. I had ridden with the maryannu. I had witnessed the battle. I had told the tale. I wanted to feel it.
I tilted my head back and looked upward through the ceiling to the sky. I opened my mouth to shout the battle cry, but I felt self-conscious. I had not faced the arrows. I had not ridden toward death. I had no right to shout the battle cry.
And so I was standing there, my mouth half-open, my head raised to the sky, when I heard a woman’s voice say, “What are you doing?”
I lowered my head. “I don’t know,” I said as I turned toward the voice.
And then my thoughts departed.
Standing on the other side of a round, tilted table that supported a smoking lamp was a naked woman who looked like a goddess.
Or, rather, a god!
Curious, I leaned toward her. I had never seen a god take form.
I looked from her huge, hanging breasts — unblinking eyes! — to her wide waist, where rounded folds curled over her hips — sagging jowls! An elongated navel formed a deep, vertical crease at the center of her waist and the black curly hair below her stomach was shaved down the center to create two separated tangles, the shorn area leading to nether lips painted dark red with ochre.
I blinked, trying to merge the illusion with reality.
But no matter how many times I blinked, I was still looking at the face of the god Bes.
“You can look for free,” a man said. “But you can have her for just a little of whatever you carry in that pouch.”
The woman laughed. The sound was as soft as the patter of water dripping from a ladle, not the deep rasp that I expected to hear from the dwarf god. I shook my head and forced my eyes to rise from the woman’s body to her face.
She was younger than me.
“She’s not a virgin,” the man’s voice said, “but she’ll give you a ride you won’t forget.”
Turning to look at the man, I found myself facing a thick black beard. I tilted my head back. The beard was attached to a wide, pock-marked face surrounded by long, tangled hair. A huge nose spread halfway across the man’s face and, above it, a pair of eyes, although narrowed in the smoky air, shone blood red with black centers that were aimed at my waist and the leather pouch I carried there.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“My name is Nebwy,” the giant said. “And I am the gatekeeper.”
“Gatekeeper?” I asked.
The giant snorted, his wide nostrils opening and closing like the toothless maw of a desert mole. Then he jerked a thumb at the girl. “Three deben of silver.”
I shook my head in confusion. That much silver was a fortune, enough to buy a chariot.
“I see your hands, boy,” Nebwy said. “And that fancy shendyt. You’ve never done any real work. You’re some kind of palace boy, out to see what the common folk do. So let’s have a look here.”
As the man reached toward my bag, a calloused hand grabbed his huge wrist.
“Slow down there,” Pairy said, his voice slurred, but confident. He turned to me. “What’s going on? Are you buying her?” he asked, nodding toward the woman.
“Buying her?” I asked.
“My name is Ahset,” the girl said.
“What do you mean?” I asked Pairy. “Why would I buy someone? I have no need of a slave.”
“He’s not buying anyone,” Nebwy said, wrenching his arm free from Pairy. “He gets tonight for three deben of silver. All of tonight. If he survives it,” he added with a laugh.
“Three deben?” Pairy said. “I could buy all the women in here for three deben,” he said, waving his hand. “He’s definitely not paying three deben for her.”
“Why would I buy someone?” I repeated. When I saw that the men were ignoring me, I stepped toward the girl. “Ahset,” I asked, “what are they talking about? Are you a slave?”
Ahset frowned. “No, I’m his daughter.”
“His?” I said, turning my head toward Nebwy who had taken a step toward Pairy.
“He’s got it,” Nebwy said, putting a hand on
Pairy’s chest. “And it’s not your business anyhow. I don’t care if you’re his escort or his nursemaid. The fancy boy is old enough to speak for himself.” He pushed Pairy, moving the charioteer back a step.
Ahset nodded in answer to my question. “Yes, I am his daughter.”
“Why is he selling you? Have you no money? Is he unable to work?” I asked.
The girl shook her head in disbelief. “You know where you are, don’t you?” She stared at my shaved head. “Have you been injured? Are you simple?” She looked stricken. “Does it even work?” she asked, nodding toward his kilt.
“Oh, you are a prostitute,” I said, finally understanding.
Then I frowned. “Your father, he sells you? Is this true? Is that what you want? Is it what you choose?”
“Get your hands off me,” Pairy said angrily. “I am a maryannu. You touch me and you touch my brothers.”
Nebwy laughed. “I don’t see any of your brothers here, little man.”
Ahset shrugged. “What do you mean ‘choose’? What is there to choose? This is my life.”
I cocked my head. “Yes, but do you like this life? Do you wake in the morning eager to see what awaits you?”
“I don’t need my brothers to take care of a hairy, half-beast hesy like you,” Pairy said, stepping toward Nebwy.
“I’m as Egyptian as you,” Nebwy shouted. He raised his right fist and swung at Pairy’s head. Pairy dodged the slow-moving punch. Then he lowered his head and charged forward, ramming into Nebwy’s stomach.
The giant gasped and raised both hands over his head. Grunting, he clasped his hands together and slammed them down on Pairy’s shoulders.
During my weeks of travel with the army I had grown used to seeing soldiers settle gambling disputes by fighting. Confident in my charioteer’s ability, I stepped away from the fight. Ahset glanced at her father, shook her head and followed me.
“I know what each day brings,” Ahset said, opening her hands to indicate the inside of Seth’s Cave and nodding at her father and Pairy. “Men get drunk and fight. They pay for a woman, sometimes me. I get food and beer.” She shrugged her shoulders, causing the hanging globes that were Bes’s eyes to wobble.
I heard motion behind me.
On his hands and knees, Pairy scrambled forward, knocking over a stool in his haste to get to the giant. Reaching Nebwy, Pairy cupped his hands on the back of the giant’s heels and drove his shoulders into his knees. The giant tilted backwards and then slowly, arms flailing, he fell. His head slammed against a table, knocking it aside, and then, with a heavy thud his body met the ground.
Ahset grabbed my arm to reclaim my attention. “Don’t worry about them, they will be fine. What do you do each day?” she asked. “Do you wake excited?” she asked, her eyes lowering to my kilt.
Pairy pushed himself to his knees, a wide grin on his face. As he did, Nebwy drew up his leg and kicked at the charioteer. The wide foot slammed against Pairy’s jaw. Pairy’s head jerked back and blood flew from his lip.
I shouted Pairy’s name and stepped toward him.
“No,” Ahset said, pulling on my arm. “You must not interfere, otherwise the others will attack you,” she said, tilting her head to the crowd that had turned to watch the fight. “They have bet on the outcome.”
I looked at the crowd.
The men were watching the fight with hungry eyes. Some of them shouted Nebwy’s name. Others cupped their hands around their mouths and screamed, “Kill him, kill the giant bastard!”
As Nebwy slowly rolled onto his stomach to get to his feet, Pairy crawled across the floor and threw himself on the giant’s back. Grabbing Nebwy’s long hair, Pairy pulled the giant’s head back and then, when Nebwy tried to wrench free, Pairy released his grip. Nebwy’s head slammed against the ground violently and bounced twice, sending a brown tooth skittering across the floor.
“Aren’t you worried about your father,” I asked Ahset, feeling relief now that Pairy appeared to be winning the fight.
Ahset shook her head. “That is what he does. I don’t know if he wakes up each day eager for a fight, but I know that if he doesn’t find one here, then he will find one when we go home.”
“He beats you?” I asked, my stomach turning sour.
“Not my face. It would make men less likely to buy me,” Ahset said. Then suddenly she began to cry.
“What is it?” I asked, putting a hand on one of her fleshy arms to comfort her.
“I lost my baby after a beating.” She looked up at me, her cheeks streaked with dark lines of kohl. “I like babies.” She cupped one of her drooping breasts. “I could feed two of them easily,” she said, forcing a smile that died stillborn.
I heard a groan from the floor.
Rising to his knees, Pairy twisted to lean his weight on a table. As he turned his back on the fallen giant, Nebwy grabbed the leg of an overturned stool. With a roar, he swung the wooden stool at Pairy’s back. The stool crashing against Pairy, knocking him onto his stomach and breaking into pieces.
The circular seat rolled across the floor and came to rest against my leg.
Ahset’s reference to babies reminded me of pregnant Queen Menwi and suddenly I understood why Bes had presented himself in Ahset’s form. Bes protects women and children. He was reassuring me that he was protecting the queen.
I wondered if he could tell me more.
“Where do you live?” I asked Ahset, bending to pick up the wooden stool seat that was leaning against my leg.
A smile crept onto her face. “There is a space between two huts up the street. We usually stay there. I could meet you there. Father will probably sleep all day.” She nodded at my pouch. “You could save your silver.”
Nebwy rose to his feet now, one of the broken legs of the stool clutched in his giant hand. He stalked toward Pairy, who was still on his hands and knees.
His stomach hidden from Nebwy’s view, Pairy’s right hand slid toward his waist and gripped the handle of his knife. As I wondered if I should shout a warning to the giant, I saw Nebwy shift the broken stool leg in his hand, gripping it as a lowered spear, its jagged tip aimed at Pairy.
The giant jumped forward, thrusting the makeshift spear at Pairy.
Twisting to present a smaller target, Pairy extended his arm, the knife blade flickering in the lamplight.
“No,” I shouted. Lunging toward the men, I thrust the wooden stool seat between the two men.
Pairy’s knife lodged in one side. The broken stool leg struck and slid off the other side.
“Beer!” I shouted. “I will buy beer for everyone.”
Then I slammed my small shoulder against the off-balance giant. Nebwy wobbled and fell once more. Then I grabbed Pairy’s arms. I pulled him to his feet and began to push him toward the door.
As the crowd closed around us, I pulled from my pouch a handful of stones I had collected along the road from Yehem. The stones had no value, but I hoped that in the darkness of the tavern, they could be mistaken for gems and pieces of silver.
I scattered the stones on the floor and shouted, “Here, take my gems and my gold.”
As the men dropped to the floor to fight over the stones, I pushed Pairy forward.
Stumbling, Pairy lost his balance and fell against the jamb of the doorway. As I steadied him, I looked back into the tavern. Above the rounded backs of the men, I saw Nebwy raising his arm.
The polished blade of Pairy’s knife gleamed in the giant’s hand for a moment and then it began to twirl through the air toward us.
I ducked, pulling Pairy with me.
The knife struck the rotting door lintel above our heads. Reaching up, I grabbed the knife handle. As I wrested the knife free, I felt the rotted beam crumble.
Dust fell.
Then the upper row of bricks followed the dust. Palm branches from the roof followed, and the wall surrounding the opening began a slow landslide.
Heart racing like one of Anun’s horses, I pulled Pairy into the street.
Looking back through the rising cloud of dust, I saw the woman whose body was the face of Bes.
I Rescue a God
With Pairy filling my ears with boasts about his battle with the giant, groaning in pain whenever he put too much weight on his injured right knee, and stopping to empty his stomach or his bladder at every other tree, we crossed Gaza to the barracks where the charioteers were lodged.
Turo, sleeping on a low bed beside Pairy’s, woke while I was easing Pairy to his bed.
“What happened?” Turo asked as Pairy sat heavily on his straw mattress.
Turo still had little use of his right arm and he moved stiffly because of the welts and cuts on his back.
He had agreed to remain alive because I had persuaded him that the oath he had taken to protect the queen bound his ka to the Two Lands until we found her.
Bending over Pairy, he said, “Were you in a fight?”
“With a giant,” Pairy said, grinning. His smile turned to a grimace as the movement stretched his bleeding lip. He cocked his head to look up at us. “Bigger than you and me together,” he said, putting a hand to his bleeding lip. He raised his other arm overhead to show how large Nebwy was and then, losing his balance, or passing out, I know not which, he fell onto his back and began to snore.
“A giant? Truly?” Turo asked.
I nodded.
“Turo,” I said, “I need your help.”
“Fighting the giant?” he asked, his words eager, despite his injuries.
“Rescuing his daughter,” I answered.
“Is she a giant?” Turo asked.
I nodded. “In width, not height.”
***
In the hours just before dawn, solid Geb and ethereal Nut commune. It was in that darkness, hidden from the jealous eye of Re, that they had conceived Osiris, Isis, Nephthys and Seth.
It is a sacred time, respected even by the dwellers of the slums of Gaza.
So I hoped.
Leaving the barracks, Turo and I walked past the palace and through the marketplace and entered the tangled streets that led to the neighborhoods of the servants, the slaves, and the hesy — outlanders drawn to the city that traded directly with the Two Lands.