“Of course I do, Artemon.”
He nodded. “That was the last of the wine. I must get back to work. Sleep well, Pecunius.”
I left him in his hut, poring over his scrolls and maps.
XXXI
The next morning dawned bright and clear, with a dazzling yellow sun in a pale blue sky. The men ate a final meal in the clearing, then Artemon gave the order to set fire to the huts.
Menkhep lit torches and passed them out to the men. At first they went about their work slowly, almost reluctantly. But as one structure after another was lit, the act of incineration took on a festive air, and soon the men were running about in a frenzy of destruction. Even Djet was allowed to wield a torch. When he set fire to our hut, I watched the flames dance in his wide-open eyes.
The huts became bonfires, at first burning brightly and bristling with flames, then collapsing on themselves and belching great clouds of smoke. Black pillars rose into the air, then spread and mingled, until the whole sky was filled with smoke. No patch of blue or golden sunbeam pierced the murk. The sky became a vast, mottled bruise of dark purple and brown, amid which the sun was a smeared crimson bloodstain.
When there was nothing left to burn, the men assembled along the shore. Coughing and rubbing their watering eyes, they took their places in the treasure-laden boats. Curtains of mingled mist and smoke hovered on the lagoon, obscuring the boats from one another. Beyond the distance of a stone’s throw, all was veiled by a sullen haze.
From where I sat in Menkhep’s boat, still tied to the shore, I dimly perceived the tall figure of Artemon striding down the pier toward the boat that would lead us. He was followed by a hooded form I took to be Ismene. After the witch came a veiled figure so completely covered from head to foot that I would never have taken it for a woman had I not known that it must be Bethesda. I longed to call out, if only to see her head turn in my direction, but I bit my tongue.
I heard a lion’s roar. Sitting beside me, Djet stiffened and clutched my arm; he had never been entirely convinced of the lion’s tameness. Cheelba trotted down the pier. The lion’s disguise had all but vanished; the dyes had faded and his mane was restored to its natural glory. As the lion passed her, Bethesda appeared to startle back in alarm. Metrodora turned toward her, as if to give reassurance. Cheelba reached Artemon, who held out his hand and allowed the beast to lick it.
For a brief moment, poised to step into their boat, Artemon and the others became motionless; even the lion’s tail was still. The mist turned them into figures from a shadow play. Then a curtain of smoke rolled across the pier and engulfed them, hiding them completely. By the time the smoke cleared, Artemon and the rest had vanished, along with the boat.
One by one, the other boats followed. As we cast off from the shore and headed out, I turned back to look at what remained of the Cuckoo’s Nest. The huts had collapsed into smoldering heaps, but the fire had spread to the surrounding vegetation. Many of the slender trees were crowned with flame, and in patches here and there the low brush was aflame as well. The spreading conflagration gave birth to a wind that spewed cinders and ashes and whipped the trees.
With no one to stop it, the fire would spread unchecked. By nightfall, the whole island would be consumed, a vast smoldering heap of ash amid the waters of the Delta. The men of the Cuckoo’s Gang would leave nothing behind them.
So rapid was the spread of the fire that as our boat headed toward the mouth of the lagoon, beyond which lay open water, flames approached from both sides, as if to converge and head us off. As long as we steered a middle course, keeping as far as possible from the shore on either side, the water would protect us. The illusion that fiery jaws were closing on us was still unnerving.
Djet screamed. Thinking the fire had frightened him, I held him tight, but he wriggled free and frantically pointed at the water.
Nearby, two bulbous eyes appeared, just above the water. Beyond the eyes, a powerful, undulating tail propelled Mangobbler the crocodile quickly toward us.
Djet screamed again. So did several of the men, who raised their oars and in a frenzy struck the water, trying to fend off the creature. Mangobbler only quickened his pace, so that a collision of boat and crocodile became inevitable. The creature’s eyes glittered with firelight.
Mangobbler reached the boat and tried to scramble aboard.
Terrified, some of the men drew back. Others awkwardly swung their oars, desperately trying to hit the crocodile. Instead, oar struck oar, and Mangobbler was unscathed. With the beast determined to board us, and the men frantically jostling each other, the heavy-laden boat swayed so violently from side to side that I was sure we would capsize.
At that moment, with all in chaos, we passed through the gates of fire. All around us spread the choppy, brightly flickering water, as if we floated on a sea of flames.
Suddenly Mangobbler lost his footing. With his short legs flailing and his jaws snapping, he tumbled back into the water. The boat rocked violently in the opposite direction. We came within a hairsbreadth of tipping over.
“Down, down!” Menkhep shouted. The men hunkered low. I clutched Djet and held my breath. The boat steadied.
Some distance away, against a backdrop of red water, swirling mist, and sheets of flame, I saw the powerful tail of Mangobbler thrash the water as the crocodile retreated.
The men in the boat behind us, braking with their oars but unable to come to a full stop, struck us with a jolt. Djet let out a scream. Even Menkhep whinnied like a horse.
The men in the other boat, who had witnessed everything before giving us a final scare, roared with laughter as they dipped their oars and passed us. Was there no fright so terrible that it did not amuse these men, as long as it happened to someone else?
*
An hour later, we found ourselves again in a world of blue sky and golden sunshine. The smoke of the Cuckoo’s Nest lay behind us, heaped like a thundercloud on the southern horizon. The smell of smoke clung to us like a perfume.
The men were more talkative than usual, sharing stories of the past and dreams of the future. They remembered lost homes and abandoned wives. They complained of indignities inflicted by greedy moneylenders, bullying soldiers, merciless tax collectors, and harsh overseers.
Their dreams of the future were simple. In some distant future, after having their fill of whores and drink and gambling, most of the men imagined for themselves not a life of luxury in a palace, pampered by slaves, but only a bit of peace and quiet in a simple house back in the city or village they had come from. A chance to grow old was itself a fantasy for these men, who were still alive against all odds.
As the hot sun beat down on us, my mind wandered. I studied the monotonous, watery expanse of the Delta. I thought about my father back in Rome. I wondered what had become of my old tutor, Antipater. But when the talk turned to “the girl,” my ears pricked up.
“Her name is Axiothea,” said Menkhep.
“How do you know?” said one of the men. His name was Ujeb. He had a reputation for timidity—he had shown complete panic when the crocodile appeared—but he was the type who could talk himself out of any corner.
“I know quite a bit about the young lady,” said Menkhep, proud to show off his privileged knowledge as one of Artemon’s more trusted men. “She comes from Alexandria, and she’s an actress.”
“No!” said Ujeb. “I heard she was a princess.”
“No, just an actress.”
“An actress, held for ransom?” Ujeb scoffed. “You can find that sort of woman on any street corner in Alexandria!”
“She’s the favorite of a very rich merchant.”
“Oh, I see. I’ll bet she’s lovely! I thought we might get a look at her this morning, but all I saw was a bundle of rags in the mist.”
“Rags?” Menkhep laughed. “The garments she was wearing cost more than you’ll steal in your whole lifetime.”
Ujeb shrugged. “Like I said, I could barely see her. She could have been naked, for
all I knew.”
“I’d like to see that!” said one of the men.
This led to a series of lewd comments, each more vulgar than the last. I wriggled nervously, and was relieved when Menkhep spoke up.
“That’s enough of that! The girl is under Artemon’s protection, so there’s no call for such filthy talk.”
“Under Artemon’s protection? Does that mean he’s having her?” said Ujeb.
“Of course not, you buffoon! What a pity Mangobbler didn’t pluck you off the boat and eat you for breakfast.”
Ujeb turned pale. “I meant no offense.”
“Then shut your mouth! No one has touched the girl since the day she arrived, and that includes Artemon. He follows the rules just like the rest of us.”
“She’s been captive a long time, but I’ve heard nothing about a ransom showing up,” said Ujeb.
“These things take time,” said Menkhep, “especially with all of Egypt in such a jumble.”
“Well, if someone shows up at the Cuckoo’s Nest to ransom her now, there’ll be only Mangobbler to take the payment!” said Ujeb. The others laughed.
“Ujeb has a point,” I said quietly. “Maybe Artemon’s given up on the ransom. What will happen to the girl then?”
Menkhep frowned. “Maybe he intends to release her. It all depends on our destination, I suppose.”
“I think we’re headed for Crete,” said one of the men. “Ever since war broke out between Rome and Mithridates, they say there’s no one at all in charge of the island. I’ve heard it’s a pirate’s paradise.”
“It could be Crete,” said another, “but I’m betting on Cyrene.”
“The Romans are in charge of Cyrene,” said Ujeb.
The others glanced in my direction. I kept my mouth shut.
“The loss of Cyrene is the shame of Egypt,” said Ujeb. “The bastard Apion gave it to the Roman bankers without a fight, while King Ptolemy was too busy stuffing his face to notice.”
“Yes, we might be headed for Cyrene,” said Menkhep. “If that happens, a native Latin speaker like our friend Pecunius might be useful to have around. He knows how Romans think.”
Ujeb looked at Menkhep shrewdly. “You always seem to know more than the rest of us. Is it true, what some of the men say about Artemon—that he’s the bastard son of Apion? If that’s so, then why shouldn’t we head for Cyrene, and claim his birthright?”
When Menkhep hesitated, I felt compelled to speak. “Do you really imagine the Cuckoo’s Gang could take on a Roman army?”
“As I understand it,” said Ujeb, “you Romans have your hands full fighting Mithridates, not to mention making war against your own allies in Italy. For all we know, the Romans have pulled out of Cyrene. It’s likely to be easy pickings!”
“It can’t be that simple,” I said. If Ujeb was right, and Artemon was taking us on a mad expedition to claim a kingdom, what would happen to Bethesda and me? A bizarre notion occurred to me: if Artemon dreamed of becoming a king, it followed that he might make Bethesda his queen—which would make me her subject! At that point, the world would truly have turned upside down. But before such a thing could happen, it seemed far more likely that the men of the Cuckoo’s Gang would all be killed in some foolhardy, ill-conceived raid, and me along with them.
Ujeb continued to elaborate on his fantasy of a regal Artemon. “If Artemon were a king, that would make him the equal of Mithridates. Think about it! The two of them could join forces against the Romans. And we men of the Cuckoo’s Gang, we’d be like the followers of Alexander, there at the birth of something big, much bigger than ourselves, and likely to see quite a nice profit from it. Just imagine.…”
He droned on, and the others listened, enthralled. I shook my head. They had departed for the realm the Greek playwrights call Cloud Cuckoo Land, and there was no point in calling them back to earth. I looked at the boats ahead of us and behind, and wondered in how many of those vessels similar conversations were taking place, as the men speculated about the adventure ahead of them.
If Ujeb’s fantasies were absurd, what were Artemon’s intentions?
I gazed at the watery landscape of the Delta, thinking what a long way I had come from my cozy bedroom in Alexandria. Had I lost my bearings along the way? What if Ujeb and the others were right, and I was the one wearing blinders?
After all, what did I know about how kingdoms were made, or where kings came from? Hadn’t Romulus and Remus been petty bandits before they founded the city? What was Alexander but the leader of a very large and bloodthirsty gang who happened to have the love of the gods, at least for a while? Perhaps my best course was to follow the example of the men around me—to put my trust completely in Artemon and thank Fortuna that my destiny was tied to such a man.
Perhaps. Yet all my instincts told me that something quite terrible lay in store for us.
XXXII
The ship was waiting for us at the inlet, just as Artemon had said it would be. The sun was sinking as we drew alongside, lighting everything with a garish orange glow that cast long shadows.
It was by far the largest vessel I had ever boarded. In my journeys to the Seven Wonders, I had traveled mostly on small trading ships that sailed from port to port, closely hugging the coastline. Those boats, lightly manned and crammed with cargo, barely had room for passengers. The Medusa—the ship took its name from a brightly painted wooden statue at the prow—was a veritable floating island.
The ship was already manned when we boarded, with a crew of at least twenty sailors and perhaps sixty rowers, yet the deck was so vast that every man aboard was able to assemble below the towering mast. With Cheelba following him, Artemon ascended a short flight of steps to the roof of the cabin at the stern. He stood at the rail, where everyone could see him.
Where were Bethesda and Ismene? I hadn’t seen them on board, but I assumed they must be inside the structure upon which Artemon stood, since it afforded the only secure and secluded quarters on the ship.
While Artemon talked, the lion sat next to him on its haunches and swished its tail.
“Welcome aboard the Medusa,” he said. “Isn’t she a beauty? This will be our home for a brief while. The men already aboard are our comrades, as much a part of the Cuckoo’s Gang as any man here, no matter that most of them come from far away. Once we’re under way, every man will be expected to take turns at the oars. If you’ve never done such work, you’ll find it’s not so different from rowing the long boats, except that you’ll get blisters in new places.”
He introduced the captain, a dark man with leathery skin and a bristling black beard. One of his eyes was missing, and in its place was a mass of scars. His smile showed a mouth full of crooked yellow teeth, with gaps where several were missing. His name was Mavrogenis and he was the very image of a pirate—so much so that he would have been at home in Melmak’s mime troupe, frightening children and making their parents laugh. When the captain gave us all a leering smile, Djet clutched my leg and cowered behind me.
By the last light of day, the men made quick work of loading the cargo from the long boats onto the Medusa. When that was done, the boats were tied together and set aflame. As the fiery chain of boats drifted away from us, the watery mirror created the illusion that the sea itself was afire. Hissing clouds of steam wreathed the spectacle as the flames died down and flickered out. After that, the night seemed very dark.
Djet found a blanket. I located an empty spot on the deck large enough for the two of us to lie down. From the far end of the ship I heard a low rumble—Cheelba, quietly roaring in his dreams. The slight rocking of the ship quickly lulled me to sleep.
*
The next morning, the Medusa made a slow circuit of the inlet while Captain Mavrogenis acquainted the newcomers with the essential details of the ship’s workings. His manner was brusque, but he seemed less threatening by the light of day.
It became apparent that some of the men had never been aboard a sailing ship—a few looked quietly terri
fied—but the great majority seemed elated that we were on the verge of embarking, and gave a cheer when the Medusa at last sailed out of the mouth of the inlet and onto the open sea.
We proceeded in a westerly direction, keeping just within sight of the coast to our left. An unfavorable wind slowed our progress and gave the rowers steady work. I took a couple of turns at the oars. As Artemon had promised, at day’s end I had a fresh blister on each thumb.
We cast anchor within swimming distance of shore, not far from a treacherous reef that ran along the coast. Other ships, whose captains would know of the reef, could be counted on to keep their distance. As the light faded, I saw a bright point of light to the southwest. The light was too low on the horizon to be a star. It had to be the beacon of the Pharos Lighthouse.
Alexandria! The city was so near that a Titan could have reached out and touched it. Only a few miles of water and sand separated me from the place I most wanted to be, if I could be there with Bethesda. I ached at the nearness of both—the city within sight, and Bethesda almost within reach, separated from me by the walls of the cabin and the will of Artemon.
The evening was balmy and clear. The men made themselves comfortable wherever they could on the crowded deck. Food and drink were passed among us. When Artemon mounted the top of the cabin at the stern, with Cheelba beside him, the men fell silent and gave him their undivided attention.
Speaking clearly in a matter-of-fact voice, Artemon informed us that on the next day we would sail into the harbor of Alexandria. There, after the Medusa pulled alongside one of the deep-water loading docks, most of us would disembark. Provided that preparations in the city had been carried out to Artemon’s satisfaction—and he had no reason to think they had not—a raiding party would proceed to the Tomb of Alexander. There we would steal the golden sarcophagus of Alexander, transport it to the harbor, load it onto the Medusa, and set sail before nightfall.
Ancient World 02 - Raiders of the Nile Page 26