Ancient World 02 - Raiders of the Nile

by Steven Saylor

The announcement was so astonishing that no one said a word. Wide-eyed and gaping, the men looked at each other, wondering if they had heard correctly.

  I stood. Artemon nodded, inviting me to speak.

  “Will we have time to do a bit of shopping while we’re in the city?” I said.

  After a pause, the silence was broken by peals of laughter so loud I feared they might hear us in Alexandria.

  As the men gradually quieted down, Artemon gave me a wry look and shook his head. He acknowledged my joke and threw it back at me.

  “We shall be making a rather hasty exit from the harbor, Pecunius. I’m afraid you won’t have time to haggle with the local merchants.”

  My facetious question emboldened the others to speak. Ujeb stood up. “Surely we’re to be armed. What will we do for weapons?”

  “There’s a cache of weapons here aboard the Medusa,” said Artemon. “Every man who goes on the raiding party will be properly outfitted.”

  “We’re to fight King Ptolemy’s soldiers?” said another. “I thought we left the Cuckoo’s Nest to avoid such a battle.”

  “Ah, but the situation in Alexandria is not what you might expect,” said Artemon. “Our spies have been keeping a close watch on the city; you’ve seen the messengers arriving with reports. So many of the king’s soldiers have deserted him that the army can no longer maintain order. People loot shops and riot in the streets, and there’s no one to stop them. Most of the soldiers who remain have withdrawn to the palace, where they’ve put up barricades. The royal tombs have been locked up tight and closed to visitors, but they’re only lightly guarded. All those tombs contain fabulous treasures, but none is greater than the golden sarcophagus of Alexander. By weight and volume, it’s the largest mass of gold in all of Alexandria. And it’s ours for the taking.”

  “But how are we to break into the tomb?” a man asked. “And how are we to carry such a heavy thing all the way to the ship?”

  “We will arrive at the tomb with a battering ram. We will also have hoists to lift and move the sarcophagus, especially suited for the purpose, and a wagon strong enough and large enough for the load.”

  “Maybe there won’t be enough soldiers to stop us,” I said, “but what if the common citizens get wind of what we’re up to? The sarcophagus of Alexander is their greatest treasure. A couple of angry shopkeepers shaking their fists won’t stop us, but a bloodthirsty mob might.”

  “You make a good point, Pecunius. We need a distraction. And we shall have one. Shortly after the Medusa arrives in the harbor, some of our confederates will instigate a riot at the far corner of the city, near the Temple of Serapis. A child will pretend to be maimed and blame the king’s soldiers, and our men will whip up the crowd until there’s a full-scale riot. That should attract all the more violent types—the arsonists and looters and head-bashers. It should also occupy any soldiers brave enough or foolish enough to be out on the streets trying to keep order.”

  “But surely people will notice if we go carting a golden sarcophagus through the streets,” I said.

  “The sarcophagus will be placed in a wooden crate with its lid nailed shut. No one who happens to see us will know what’s inside.”

  Artemon gave me a steady look, as if challenging me to think of some other objection. He took a deep breath. “Every detail has been thought through. Every preparation has been made. You’ll understand now why I couldn’t breathe a word about this raid before today, and why all the planning had to be done in secret. I couldn’t take the chance that some traitor among us might warn King Ptolemy, or that some drunken braggart might give us away. Every messenger and every one of our confederates in Alexandria was told only what he needed to be told. Even the men who’re to meet us with the battering ram and the hoists don’t know what they’re to be used for. Now all that remains is for us to carry out the task. And tomorrow, after it’s done, and we sail out of the harbor with the golden sarcophagus, we shall not merely be rich men. We shall be the stuff of legend.”

  I looked at the men around me. Their eyes glittered at the ideas Artemon had put in their heads.

  I cleared my throat. “Even if everything goes according to plan, surely some blood will be shed.”

  “Their blood, not ours!” shouted Ujeb. He made a show of hooting and pumping his arms, and many of the others joined him.

  Artemon quieted them. “Pecunius is right. It’s possible that some of us may be wounded. Some of us may even be killed, or captured by the king’s men, from whom we can expect no mercy. It is my belief that we will encounter almost no opposition, and be able to carry out the raid with very little bloodshed. Still, there’s always a chance that something may go wrong. We may have to fight our way to the tomb, and then fight our way back to the ship.”

  “No man here is afraid of a little fight!” shouted Ujeb.

  “Except you, Ujeb!” quipped Menkhep, to hoots of laughter.

  Artemon waited for the men to quiet down. “If any man thinks the odds against us are too great, he’s free to leave us. If that is your choice, come tomorrow, when the ship arrives in port, gather up whatever you can carry of your possessions. You’ll have to wait on board until the raiding party returns—we can’t have anyone running to the palace or stirring up trouble. But once the men have boarded and the sarcophagus is loaded, you’ll be free to get off the ship and go your own way, while the rest of us sail off. You’ll no longer be a member of the Cuckoo’s Gang, and you’ll have given up your share of the world’s greatest treasure, but no man here will hold a grudge against you. I’ll call you a fool, but I won’t call you a coward.”

  “Abandon the Cuckoo’s Gang?” said Ujeb. “On the day of our greatest adventure? That would be like walking out of a mime show just before the dancing girls come on! Ha!”

  In the sea of faces around me, I saw a few men who looked as if they might be pondering Artemon’s offer to leave the gang, but the vast majority shared Ujeb’s enthusiasm.

  “And then what, Artemon?” I shouted. “Where do we go after Alexandria?”

  “I can’t reveal that now, Pecunius, for obvious reasons. What if some among us choose to leave? What if one of us is captured? No man here would willingly betray his comrades, but we can’t take the chance. Until the raid is over, our destination must remain a secret.”

  I nodded. “Fair enough. But won’t the king’s ships follow us? And what makes you think they’ll allow a ship full of bandits to enter the harbor in the first place?”

  “Like the rest of Alexandria, the harbor is virtually unmanned. It’s all the king can do to keep the Pharos Lighthouse operating. We’ll be given permission to enter and to dock. Arrangements have been made.”

  “Bribes have been paid, you mean!” Ujeb laughed.

  Artemon smiled. “And further arrangements have been made to ensure that no one pursues us when we leave.”

  “More bribes!” said Ujeb.

  “What if some reckless captain of the royal fleet decides to pursue us anyway?” I said.

  Artemon crossed his arms. “If that happens, we’ll simply have to outrun them, all the way to—”

  He drew a sharp breath and bit his tongue, but he was only pretending to make a near-slip, teasing us with the mystery of our destination. For now, the men could let their imaginations run wild.

  *

  That night, I tossed and turned on the deck, unable to sleep. Many of the others were also wakeful. I overheard their whispers all around me. No one spoke of all that might go wrong. Instead they talked about what would happen after the raid, when we sailed out of Alexandria and into legend.

  This was one version of a possible future: with a fortune in gold and a company of loyal men, Artemon would make himself king of lawless Crete, then sail with an army of pirates and outlaws to Cyrene, drive out the Romans, and put himself on the throne that should rightfully have been his. And then, master of Crete and Cyrene, the Cuckoo’s Child would take Egypt as well, and then ally himself with that other audaciou
s leader, King Mithridates of Pontus, and the two of them together would drive the Romans back to Italy and split the world between them.

  Hearing such ideas spoken aloud, I bit my tongue and kept silent, thinking there is no notion so outrageous that men will not embrace it.

  I found myself staring at the cabin at the stern. Was Bethesda inside, and with her Ismene? Was she asleep or awake? Did she know I was near? Had she been able to hear Artemon’s speech? Did she know we would be in Alexandria tomorrow?

  I saw a shadow approach the door of the cabin. By the shape and size, I knew it must be Artemon.

  For a long time he stood at the door with his hand on the latch. Why did he hesitate? I couldn’t see his face, which was hidden in darkness. At last he pulled the door open and stepped inside.

  My heart pounded. My mind raced. What was happening inside that room? I rose to my feet and was about to make my way across the crowded deck when the cabin door quietly opened and Artemon stepped out, closing it behind him.

  He saw me standing amid the sea of blanket-covered men, and gave me a vague wave of acknowledgment. I settled back onto the deck beside Djet.

  What if I decided to take no part in the raid the next day, and stayed on the ship instead? Artemon had offered that choice. Might I find a way to rescue Bethesda, and escape with her? It seemed unlikely. Men would be left on board to guard the vessel, and to guard Bethesda, as well. When the raiding party returned, I would be ejected from the ship, cast out of the Cuckoo’s Gang. Off they would sail to an unknown destination, taking Bethesda with them.

  The possibility that I might come full circle, all the way back to Alexandria, only to lose Bethesda again, and forever, was intolerable.

  What would happen if I did take part in the raid? Presuming I survived and returned to the ship, what opportunity would I have to rescue Bethesda? I envisioned a mad scenario: just as the Medusa sailed out of the harbor, past the Pharos Lighthouse, I would rush to the cabin, seize Bethesda, and pull her onto the deck. Holding her tight, I would leap into the water. While Artemon shook his fist and the Medusa sailed away, Bethesda and I would head for shore.

  There was one problem: I could not swim. Would Bethesda be able to get the two of us to the Pharos Island alive? I imagined us dragging ourselves ashore, gasping and bedraggled but free at last.

  And if that far-fetched scenario proved impossible, what then? Bethesda and I would sail off with the others, more completely in the power of Artemon than ever. That prospect, too, was intolerable.

  It seemed to me that my only hope was Ismene. She had shown sympathy for my plight. She had helped me to survive the initiation. What plans did she have for herself? What plans, if any, did she have for Bethesda, and for me?

  I stared at the starry sky above, and uttered a prayer to Fortuna that a witch might save me.

  XXXIII

  Just before sunrise, I was awakened by a woman’s scream.

  I thought of Bethesda and was on my feet in a heartbeat.

  But the scream did not come from Bethesda. It came from Ismene. By the faint predawn light, I saw her atop the cabin at the stern, in the place where Artemon had stood to address us. Her eyes were closed. She held her hands above her head, palms pressed together and pointed skyward, like those of a diver, and then she began to whirl around, faster and faster. The loose cloth and tassels of her cloak whipped through the air.

  Those who were awake roused those who slept, and soon we were all staring at Ismene as she whirled. It hardly seemed possible that a mortal could move in such a manner of her own volition. Some outside force seemed to control her, spinning her as a child might spin a doll.

  As she whirled faster and faster, Ismene produced weird ululations that raised hackles on my neck.

  “Some demon’s taken hold of her,” said Djet. He clutched the blanket to his face and peered above it.

  “Stupid boy!” snapped Ujeb. “This is what happens when a prophecy grips her. When she comes to her senses, she’ll tell us what the dark powers have shown her.”

  The ululations ceased. The whirling slowed and finally stopped. Ismene staggered but did not fall. She opened her eyes.

  “Ananke has lifted the veil! Moira has blown away the mists! Egyptian Ufer of the Mighty Name has shown me the book of what is to be!”

  The men cried out. “Tell us what you saw, Metrodora!”

  “Metrodora, what will happen today?”

  “Metrodora—”

  “All of you, be silent!” she wailed.

  Some of the men lurched back, as if she had struck them.

  “There must be a sacrifice! For all to go well, a blood-red sacrifice is demanded!”

  The men glanced at each other anxiously. Some of them looked at Djet in a way that made me uneasy. I pulled him close beside me.

  Artemon appeared on the steps leading to the cabin’s roof, but he stopped short of joining Ismene. He looked vexed and bewildered. “What are you saying, Metrodora?” he asked. “What do the dark forces want from us?”

  “Blood-red sacrifice!”

  Artemon turned pale. “Someone must die?” he whispered.

  Next to me, Ujeb began to blubber. “This has never happened before! There’s never been human sacrifice among us! Why now? Why now?”

  “The curse!” Ismene cried. “All curses must be cast away! All must be purified!”

  Artemon shook his head. “What curse, Metrodora? What are you talking about?”

  “The curse of the ruby!” She thrust her fist in the air, then opened it to reveal the ruby I had given her, removed from its setting in the Nabataean’s necklace. At that instant the first ray of sunlight shot across the horizon and struck the jewel. It seemed that Ismene held a little ball of fire.

  “What curse do you speak of?” Ujeb’s voice cracked. “Where did this ruby come from?”

  “Stupid man!” shouted Ismene. “Your questions are pointless. All that matters is that the curse be cast away. Unless that’s done, this ship will never reach Alexandria.”

  Men jabbered and dropped to their knees. Artemon looked taken aback. This, clearly, had not been a part of his plans.

  “Who must die, Metrodora?” wailed Ujeb. “Is it me? Oh, please, gods, let it not be me!”

  “Be quiet, you fool!” Ismene gave him a withering look. “No one has to die. But every man here must touch the ruby. The ruby already holds a curse. The ruby can take upon itself more curses—all the curses among us, large and small. For all to go well, the whole ship and everyone on it must be purified. All must hold the ruby!”

  She approached Artemon, stared at him until he held out his hand, then pressed the ruby into his palm.

  “Every man aboard the ship must touch it!” she cried.

  Artemon descended to the deck. He passed the ruby to the first man he came to, Menkhep. Menkhep held the stone at arm’s length, then passed it to the next man.

  From man to man the ruby was passed. Some gazed at it in awe. Some averted their eyes in fear. Some fondled it with a kind of lust before handing it over. Others trembled and squealed when they touched it, as if it burned their fingers.

  When it came my turn to hold it, I took a good look at the jewel that had once been mine. Was it truly cursed? Its previous owner, the Nabataean, had certainly come to a bad end, as had Harkhebi and the others who chased after it. But my possession of the ruby had bought the respect of Artemon, and by giving it to Ismene I had gained the chance to see Bethesda.

  “The boy, too, must hold it,” said Ismene, who had slowly made her way through the crowd until she stood before me.

  I passed the ruby to Djet. He stared at it cross-eyed for a moment before he passed it on.

  Ismene stepped closer. The others drew back. As all eyes followed the ruby, she stepped so close that when she whispered, only I could hear.

  “There is another who touched the ruby, before I woke you.”

  “Bethesda!” I breathed the name, barely moving my lips.

  Isme
ne nodded.

  “Let me see her!” I whispered.

  “That is not possible,” whispered Ismene.

  “But when—?”

  “Follow Artemon today. Go on the raid. But do not return to the ship. Stay in Alexandria. Whatever happens, do not reboard the Medusa.”

  “And Bethesda? How will she—?”

  Ismene abruptly turned and walked away.

  From hand to hand the ruby passed, until every man aboard had touched it. The last to hold it was Captain Mavrogenis, who peered at it with his good eye, turning it this way and that. At Ismene’s approach, he stiffened and handed it to her.

  Ismene held up the ruby. It glittered in the light of the rising sun.

  “Accursed thing!” she cried. “Thing of beauty that now holds within it every curse and particle of ill fortune from every mortal aboard this ship! Be off with you! Let Poseidon swallow you! Only all the waters of the sea can wash you clean!”

  She drew back her arm and threw with all her might. A crimson streak hurtled through the air and disappeared amid the waves with a tiny splash.

  Artemon looked aghast. Then, slowly, a smile lit his face. I think he anticipated the reaction of the men. For a moment they all stood dumbstruck, as shocked as Artemon, then some began to shiver and gasp, and some to weep. All their unspoken anxiety seemed to pour out of them in that moment. All night they had suppressed their fears, shunning words of ill omen, speaking only of success and glory. From what dark dreams had Ismene’s scream awoken them? Still half-asleep and befuddled, they had been drawn by her into a ritual that none expected, yet all longed for.

  We had been cleansed—not by water or by prayer, but by magic. Gone was the detritus of every man’s offenses against gods and mortals. Gone was doubt.

  We were ready for the day ahead.

  *

  As the anchor was hoisted and the Medusa set sail, Artemon announced who among us would go ashore and who would stay behind to guard the ship. I was in the first group.

  Every man was issued a weapon. Those going on the raid were given shields and armor. Some of these items we had brought with us from the Cuckoo’s Nest, but the best pieces came from a cache on the ship. The style and craftsmanship of these objects resembled the armaments used by King Ptolemy’s soldiers. Where had so much equipment, of such high quality, come from? I wondered if Artemon’s confederates had raided a royal armory.