Ancient World 02 - Raiders of the Nile

by Steven Saylor

  Wiping his mouth, Djet spoke in a weak voice. “Do you think it was…?”

  “The chicken,” I said.

  He nodded, then proceeded to convulse yet again. It seemed remarkable that such a small fellow could have so much inside him that needed to come out.

  At last my nausea subsided, leaving me faint and exhausted. I turned around to see that Teti had vanished from the room. Had she been repulsed by my sickness, or had she too been afflicted?

  Whatever the case, I was glad to be left in peace as I staggered across the room and fell back into bed. I grimaced as my head struck not a soft pillow, but the hard, bulging treasure sack. At least the problem of the ruby gave me something to think about other than my physical misery, and I found myself clutching the sack as I gradually, fitfully, returned to a realm of uneasy dreams.

  *

  I was up at dawn. Djet had returned to the room and had taken his place on the floor in front of the door. I nudged him awake and told him to go and prepare the camel so that we could set out at once.

  “But I don’t know how to dress a camel,” he complained.

  “You saw me put on the trappings yesterday, and you helped me take them off. You can at least fill the water skins.”

  “What if the beast bites me?”

  “I told you, camels never bite. Now run along.”

  I headed for the kitchen, where a great many flies were already buzzing about. The serving girl was up, and asked if I wanted some dates or a bowl of farina with goat’s milk. My empty stomach was growling to be fed, but I dared to eat only a few crusts of stale bread and to sip some cool water.

  Teti appeared, wearing a loose sleeping gown made of linen so sheer that I could see every voluptuous curve and recess of her body. To judge by her cheerful demeanor, she had not been sick after all. Nor did the serving girl appear to have been ill.

  “Marcus Pecunius,” she said, opening her arms to give me a commiserating hug. “Are you feeling better this morning?”

  “Weak, but well.”

  “And will you be staying another night, so that I may have the chance to send you from Sais with a better estimation of my house?” The words were formal, but her fluttering eyes spoke a different language.

  “Alas, Teti, I must leave at once. The pyramids call to me.”

  “And how can I compare with those?” she sighed, placing a hand upon her heaving breasts.

  “Don’t worry about last night,” I said. “I couldn’t have asked for a warmer welcome.”

  “Ah, you silver-tongued Roman! Perhaps, on your way back…?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “You will always be welcome here, Marcus Pecunius. Now, you and the boy will need food for your journey. There might be a bit of last night’s chicken still in the clay jar—”

  My stomach gave a lurch. “No, no, Teti, I bought some simple provisions yesterday, and I’m sure we’ll find plenty to eat along the way.”

  “As you wish, Marcus Pecunius.”

  I settled my account with her, then went out back to help Djet. To my surprise, he had already fitted the camel with its trappings. I checked all the straps and other pieces of tack and saw that he had done an excellent job. He had also filled the water skins. I had only to tuck the treasure sack safely away, and we could be off.

  From the place where we stood, behind the inn, I had a narrow view of the street that ran in front of the establishment. As we made ready, I saw a figure approaching the inn, but he did not see me. I had only a fleeting glimpse of the man, but there was something familiar about his long gray beard. I heard him knock on the front door.

  “Teti!” he called. “Teti, are you up?”

  I recognized his voice at once. It was Harkhebi, the leader of the city fathers of Sais with whom I had played Pharaoh’s Beard at the Inn of the Hungry Crocodile.

  I turned to Djet. “Keep very quiet and stay where you are,” I whispered.

  “What’s happening?”

  “Never mind. Just stay here until I come back.”

  I crept along the side of the inn and got as close to the entrance as I could, staying out of sight. Teti had stepped outside to greet her visitor. From the way they spoke, I realized that Harkhebi and Teti were neighbors and knew each other well.

  “How was your trip to Alexandria?” said Teti.

  Harkhebi made a rude noise. “The king gave us nothing! He’s useless—and if you believe the gossip, not long for the throne.”

  “Ah, speaking of Alexandria—”

  I drew a sharp breath, thinking she was about to mention me. But Harkhebi interrupted her.

  “We returned to Sais late last night, after traveling all day.”

  “But here you are, up bright and early.”

  “Because there’s something I need to tell everyone, and I’ll start with you, Teti. On the trip back from the city, we stopped at a place called Canopus. What a disgusting sinkhole of vice that town is! Full of prostitutes and drinking establishments and gambling dens.”

  What a hypocrite! When it came to guzzling beer and placing wagers, Harkhebi had matched me round for round. Now that he was back in Sais, he played the upright city father.

  “It must be a terrible place,” said Teti, in a tone that indicated she would gladly hear more.

  “More terrible than you can imagine—for when we woke, after spending the night in one of those places, what should we discover but that one of the other guests had been murdered.”

  “Murdered? Holy Isis! Tell me more.”

  “The victim was a wealthy trader from Nabataea. A boy traveling with him and two bodyguards also had their throats cut.”

  Teti gasped. “But who would do such a thing? And why?”

  “The killer was one of the other guests. He raced off on a stolen camel at dawn, taking with him all the money the Nabataean had been carrying, as well as the poor man’s rings. He also took a ruby necklace.”

  “A ruby?”

  “A fabulous gem, worth a fortune. The crime was so audacious that the city fathers of Canopus have put a bounty on this killer and promised a reward for the return of the ruby.”

  “‘This killer,’ you say—was it only one man? How did one man overcome four victims?”

  “He isn’t just any man. He’s a Roman! Truly, they must be the most bloodthirsty people on earth. I shall never stay under the same roof with a Roman again.”

  “A Roman, you say?” Teti’s tone was suddenly flat.

  “Yes, a young Roman who’d come from Alexandria, traveling with a boy.”

  “With … a boy, you say? The two of them, traveling on a camel?”

  “Yes. No one is sure which way they went, but there’s a chance they were headed here to Sais. I’m warning everyone in town, especially the innkeepers, to be on the lookout for this monster.”

  “And if he should appear?”

  “My advice would be to kill him on the spot, as you would a dangerous snake! Then send his head to Canopus and claim the bounty. There’s a very generous reward for the recovery of the ruby, as well.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes. Of course, he may never come to Sais; I don’t want to alarm you unduly, Teti. Even if he does come here, what are the chances he would stay at your inn?”

  There was a long silence, during which I held my breath.

  At last I heard Teti sigh. “Well, there’s been no such person here at my inn.”

  “For your sake, I’m glad to hear it. But be on the lookout, Teti. This Roman has killed once and may kill again.”

  “He sounds like quite a man.”

  “A dangerous man, Teti!”

  “Yes, indeed.”

  “Well, I must be off, to warn everyone else in town. Farewell, Teti.”

  “Farewell, Harkhebi.”

  I quickly crept to the back of the building. I pulled the treasure sack from the camel’s trappings, reached inside, then put it back.

  “What’s going on?” said Djet.

 
“I’ll tell you later. Now keep your mouth shut!”

  Teti appeared at the back door.

  “Marcus Pecunius…,” she began, a stricken look on her face.

  “Say nothing, Teti!” I raced to her and pressed a finger to her lips. “There are no words for such a parting. Alas, what might have occurred last night did not occur—the gods looked down and were jealous of us, Teti! But I promise I shall not forget you. And so that you don’t forget me, I want to give you something.”

  “A gift … for me?”

  “Yes, Teti. Do you like it?” I produced the ring I had pulled from the sack. The band was of silver and the setting of lapis lazuli.

  “Oh, Marcus, it’s beautiful!”

  “Think of me when you wear it, Teti.”

  “Oh, Marcus, I shall.” Her face glowed, and tears came to her eyes. She hid her face and turned back toward the door. “You mustn’t see me cry, Marcus. And you must be off—at once! Soon everyone in Sais will be looking for you. Go, Marcus!” She ran inside.

  Djet gave me a look as if to say: what in Hades was that about?

  I induced the camel to kneel, mounted the beast, and helped Djet climb behind me. “Hut! Hut!” I cried.

  Djet, who could keep his mouth shut no longer, squealed with laughter as the camel rose up. “Fortuna shows how she loves you again!” he cried.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Last night, I thought: how terrible, that the Roman should be so sick. What a disgusting sight you were! But that was Fortuna’s way of saving you.”

  “From what?”

  “From that hippopotamus! Isn’t that what you called her yesterday? A friendly hippopotamus? How terrible, if Teti the hippopotamus had had her way with you. But Fortuna struck you ill, and so you escaped such an awful fate. Still, I don’t see why you spoke all that gibberish to her and gave her that ring—”

  “By Hercules, Djet, keep your voice down! What if she were to hear you?”

  As we rode away from the inn, I glanced back to see Teti standing on the front doorstep. Her arms were tightly crossed and there was a scowl on her tear-stained face. Had she overheard the insult? Perhaps not, I told myself. Perhaps she was simply upset to see me go.

  But as we rounded a corner and rode out of sight, I saw her pull the lapis lazuli ring from her finger and throw it onto the ground.

  “Harkhebi!” she shouted. “Harkhebi, come back!”

  “Hut! Hut!” I cried, and snapped the reins, urging the camel to go faster.

  XV

  Thus did I become a wanted man and an outlaw, racing across the Delta with a bounty on my head.

  Harkhebi must have been slow to mount a pursuit, or perhaps he sent the men of Sais in the wrong direction, thinking I was heading upriver, as I had told Teti. In any event, driving the camel at a swift pace, we made our escape from Sais without incident.

  As soon as I could, I left the main road, and from that point onward I kept as much as possible to side roads. I skirted the towns, thinking it safer to ask for directions and buy provisions at isolated trading posts. I feared to seek shelter at any inn, so we slept in whatever secluded spot I could find. Fortunately, the nights were dry and mild, but each morning I woke in despair. Necessity had driven me to stray from the directions I had been given by Tafhapy, and as a result I was often lost and unsure which way to go next. Finding the Cuckoo’s Nest had always been a tricky proposition; now I feared I might never do so.

  What a mess I had made of everything!

  And yet, day by day, we made steady progress, penetrating farther and farther into the heart of the Delta. The languid mood of the place began to calm me. Low, desolate hills alternated with marshes and mudflats. Sluggish streams and stagnant pools teemed with insects. Hippopotami became a regular sight, as did crocodiles. Because the Nile was near its low point, crossings that at other times of year would have required a ferry ride were easily crossed on camelback, as long as one avoided becoming mired in mud.

  The drabness of the Delta alternated with unexpected splendor. One morning, in the middle of nowhere, we came upon a vast, shallow lake inhabited by thousands of long-legged birds with magnificent beaks and wings of a delicate pink color, like the inner surface of a seashell. As we watched, a large group of them took to the air, wheeled above our heads, and then returned to the water, whereupon another group took off. The lake became an arena of constant motion, with some of the birds performing their aerial dance while others flocked together on the water.

  “Flamingos!” cried Djet.

  “You’ve seen these creatures before?”

  “Only in pictures in the temples of Ra. I never thought to see a real one. I wonder if we shall see a phoenix, as well?”

  “But surely the phoenix exists only in legends.”

  “Not so! They live in the Delta. Everyone says so.”

  Who was I to contradict him? Until that morning I had not known that such a bird as the flamingo existed. “Beautiful!” I whispered, and for as long as I watched the pink birds I felt at peace in that strange, secluded place.

  As our progress continued, and no one we met seemed to be unduly alarmed by a young Roman and a boy traveling on camelback, I began to let down my guard. It seemed that I had outrun the warnings about me. Perhaps, if my pursuers thought I had traveled south, news of the murders in Canopus would never reach the inner Delta.

  My despair also began to recede, for I began to think that we might indeed be drawing nearer to the Cuckoo’s Nest. Whenever I spoke to the locals, I tried to bring up the subject of bandits in a casual way, expressing the natural curiosity of a stranger passing through. Many of the people I met refused to talk about bandits, as if they feared reprisals for doing so, but others conversed freely about the raiders, pirates, thieves, and kidnappers who inhabited the Delta. Many spoke of these villains in tones of admiration or even awe, as if they were some sort of heroes.

  One day I found myself at a drowsy little trading post located on the branch of the Nile along which, according to Tafhapy, the Cuckoo’s Nest might be found. The day was warm, but an awning along one side of the ramshackle building offered shade, and a few simple benches provided places to sit. As is typical of such trading posts, along with the proprietor there were several locals hanging about, regulars who probably spent the better part of each day sitting idly in the shade, sipping beer, happy to chat with any traveler who happened by. Among them was a toothless, white-haired Egyptian so weathered by the sun that he looked to have been carved from a block of ebony, and so wrinkled I could hardly make out the eyes in his face. His name was Hepu, and he had a lot to say on the subject of bandits.

  “Ever since I was young, roaming gangs of outlaws have lived in the Delta,” Hepu told me. He turned his gaze to Djet. “When I was a boy—no older than you, little man—I dreamed of joining them, and living the bandit’s life. But soon enough my father whipped that idea out of me!” He cackled at the memory.

  “But why would any man wish to become an outlaw?” I said. It was not an idle question, considering the situation in which I found myself.

  “Better to ask, why should a man wish for the law-abiding life of a farmer or tradesman, with hungry children to feed, a wife to scold him, and the king’s tax collectors to make his life a misery? The bandits live as free men, without those cares.”

  The owner of the trading post laughed. Menkhep was a squat, thick-limbed man with big shoulders. The top of his head was perfectly bald, but the fringe of hair above his ears was iron gray and as curly as lamb’s wool. “Old Hepu is always spouting nonsense about what a wonderful life the bandits lead. Yet here he sits, day after day. I don’t see you running off to join the Cuckoo’s Gang, Hepu.”

  I pricked up my ears.

  “That’s because I’m too old,” said Hepu. “They wouldn’t have me. The Cuckoo’s Gang recruits only the young and able-bodied, or men who have some useful skill. Ah, but a fellow like you, Menkhep—you might be of interest to them.”
>
  “Me? What use would a bandit gang have for a shopkeeper?”

  “You know how to count money!” Hepu laughed. “And since your wife died, you have no woman to hold you back. You’re still young and strong.”

  “So it might seem to an old man like you.” Menkhep sighed. “To my eyes, the Roman here looks young and strong.” He gave me a friendly punch to the shoulder.

  Hepu nodded. “And he must speak Latin. That’s a skill the bandits could use.”

  “How so?” I said.

  “Imagine that a ship founders on the coast—shipwrecks happen more often than you might think—and the bandits raid the cargo and carry off the survivors. Among their captives are some wealthy Romans. The kidnappers would need someone to translate the ransom demands.”

  Another of the chin-waggers, who was almost as old as Hepu, gave me a leer. “And if some of those Roman prisoners were women, the bandits would need someone to sweet-talk them out of their clothes—in Latin!”

  Hepu turned up his nose. “To the contrary, as a rule the bandits are very respectful of any female they capture.”

  “Really?” I said, thinking of Bethesda.

  “If the woman is poor, the bandits are likely to simply let her go, out of mercy. If she’s a slave, she’s treated as booty, and sold at the first opportunity—or she might even be set free. If she appears to be wealthy and might fetch a ransom, the bandits keep her captive but treat her with great care. There’s a code of conduct among such men, and that code decrees that no woman, slave or free, rich or poor, is to be mistreated. Any bandit who breaks that code soon finds himself cast out.”

  Did Hepu know what he was talking about? I wanted to believe him.

  “What do the bandits do for female companionship?” I asked.

  “They do without it—lucky fellows!” Hepu chortled. “No women live with the bandits, or travel alongside them. Only men are allowed—and what a paradise that must be! Oh, I daresay some of them have sweethearts in villages here and there, or visit brothels when they venture into town to spend their money. But no women are allowed to live among them—nor any young boys, either.” He cast a glance at Djet. “Women and pretty boys lead to nothing but trouble.”