In this way another thirty-one men reached the water; altogether a hundred and fourteen were saved, less than half the number that had set out into the desert two days before. The weakest had perished during the first day’s desert march arid now the awful catastrophe had taken toll of the best and strongest fighters. The future seemed more indefinite than before. The forced inactivity was depressing; there was no strength left to continue the planned journey; weapons had been abandoned in the place where the sand-storm had overtaken them. If the insurgents had had food they could have recuperated much more easily, but the last remnants had been distributed the night before and there was nothing left.
The sun was blazing in the clear unclouded sky and those who had remained at the scene of the catastrophe, even if there had been a faint flicker of life in them, had by now, no doubt, perished.
The survivors hid in the gully between the rocks where the day before they had lain together with those who were no longer amongst the living. As on the previous day the people awaited sundown, but although the heat of the day had died down and night had already fallen, they still waited, hoping that the cool night air would enable the weaker men to continue their struggle with the desert that stood between them and their native land.
This last hope, however, was fated never to be fulfilled.
As night drew on the runaways felt that they could continue their way slowly forward and were about to set. out when suddenly they heard the distant braying of an ass and the barking of dogs. For a time they hoped it might be a merchant caravan or the party of a tax-collector, but soon, however, horsemen appeared in the semi-darkness of the plain. The well-known cry of “A’atu!” resounded over the desert. There was nowhere to flee to, they had no weapons to fight with and hiding was useless — the sharp-eared dogs would soon find them. Some of the insurgents sank to the ground, their last ounce of strength gone; others dashed about aimlessly amongst the rocks. Some of them tore their hair in desperation. One of the Libyans, still a young man, groaned plaintively and tears filled his eyes. The Amu and the Heriusha stood with bowed heads and clenched teeth. Several of the men began involuntarily to run away but were immediately halted by the dogs.
The more self-restrained stood still where they were, as though in a trance, their minds, however, actively seeking ways of salvation. The soldiers of the Black Land were fortunate in their chase — they had caught up with the runaways at a moment when they were very weak. If they had retained but half of their former energy many of them would have preferred death to a second captivity. Their vitality, however, had been sapped and the runaways did not offer any resistance to the soldiers approaching with drawn bows. The struggle for freedom was over — those who slept their eternal sleep amidst the abandoned weapons were a thousand times more fortunate than the survivors.
Worn out, all hope of liberty gone, the slaves became submissive and indifferent to their fate.
Very soon the hundred and fourteen men, their hands bound behind their backs and chained together by their necks in parties of ten, straggled back across the desert to the east under the blows of whips. A few of the soldiers visited the scene of the catastrophe to make sure there were none left alive there.
The pursuers expected a reward for every slave they brought back — only this saved the runaways from a horrible death. Not one of them died on the awful journey back when they dragged along tied together, lashed by whips and without food. The caravan moved slowly, keeping to the road and avoiding the sands.
Pandion dragged along, never daring to look at his companions, and unreceptive to outside impressions. Even the blows of the whip could not arouse him from his state of torpor. The only thing he remembered of the journey back to slavery was the moment when they reached the Nile, near the city of Abydos. The Captain of the escort halted the party to examine the wharf where a barge should have awaited the captives. The prisoners were huddled together on the crest of the descent into the valley, some of them sank to the ground. The morning breeze brought with it the smell of fresh water.
Pandion, who had remained on his feet, suddenly noticed pretty, delicately blue flowers on the very edge of the desert. They swayed on their long stems spreading a fine aroma all around and Pandion felt that this was a last gift sent to him from his lost liberty.
The young Hellene’s lips, cracked and bleeding, quivered and uncertain weak sounds escaped his throat. Kidogo, who had been watching his friend with some alarm during halts — he was chained to a different group during the march — turned to listen.
“… Blue.” He heard only the last word and Pandion again sank into a coma.
The runaways were freed of their bonds and driven on to the barge that was to take them to the suburbs of the capital. Here they were kept in prison as particularly dangerous and persistent rebels and would inevitably be sent to the gold mines.
The prison was a huge hole dug in hard, dry ground, faced with brick and roofed by a number of steep vaults. Four narrow slits cut in the roof served as windows and the entrance was a sloping trap-door in the roof through which food and water were lowered.
The constant gloom of the prison proved a mercy to the runaways: many of them had inflamed eyes caused by the terribly harsh light of the desert, and had they remained in the sunlight they would undoubtedly have lost their sight.
But how tormenting was their captivity in a dark, stinking hole after a few days of liberty!
The captives were completely cut off from the world and nobody cared what they felt or experienced.
Despite the hopelessness of their position, however, they again began to hope for something as soon as they had begun to recover from the effects of their awful journey.
Cavius, somewhat brusquely as usual, again began to outline ideas that all could understand. Kidogo’s laughter was heard again as were the piercing cries of the Libyan Akhmi. Pandion recovered more slowly, the collapse of his hopes had made a deeper impression on him.
Many times he had felt the stone hidden in his loincloth but it seemed like sacrilege to him to take out Yakhmos’ wonderful gift in that foul, dark hole. The stone, moreover, had deceived him, it possessed no magic; it had not helped him obtain his liberty and reach the sea.
At last, however, Pandion did take the blue-green crystal out of its hiding place and carry it stealthily to the pale ray that shone through the slit in the roof but did not reach the ground. With the first glance he cast at the joyous iridescence of the stone the desire to live and fight returned to him. He had been deprived of everything; he did not even dare to think of Thessa; he did not dare to evoke memories of his native shores. All that was left to him was the stone — the stone that was like a dream of the sea, of another life, the real life he had known in the past. And Pandion began to gaze frequently at the stone, finding in its transparent depths that joy without which it would have been impossible to live.
Pandion and his companions did not spend more than ten days in their underground prison. Without any sort of interrogation or trial the fate of the runaway slaves was decided by the authorities up there in the world above. The trap-door opened suddenly and a wooden ladder was lowered into the prison. The slaves were led out and, blinded by the glaring sun, were immediately bound and chained together in groups of six. They were then led down to the Nile and loaded on to a big barge sailing upstream. The rebels were being sent to the southern frontiers of the Black Land, to the Gates of the South, from where they would begin that last journey from which there was no return — to the terrible gold mines of the Land of Nub. (* Gates of the South — the towns of Neb and Swan, the modern Syene and Aswan, on the islands of Elephantine and Philae.
Nub (Egypt, gold) — the collective name for all the lands along the Nile south of the First Cataract; later Nubia).
A fortnight after the runaway slaves had exchanged their underground prison for a floating gaol, at a distance of five hundred thousand cubits upstream to the south of the capital of Tha-Quem, the following scene was e
nacted in the luxurious palace of the Prince of the South on the Island of Neb.
The Prince of the South and Governor of the Province of Neb, the cruel and imperious Kabuefta, who considered himself second only to Pharaoh in the Black Land, had summoned to his presence the Commander of the Host, the Lord of the Hunt and the Chief Caravan Leader of the South.
Kabuefta received his guests on the balcony of his palace where an abundant feast was spread; his Chief Scribe was also present. Kabuefta, a big muscular man, seated, in imitation of Pharaoh, on a high throne of ebony and ivory, towered arrogantly above his companions.
He noticed the inquiring glances, which the assembled officials exchanged, and smiled to himself.
The palace stood on the highest part of the island and the view from the balcony embraced the wide sleeves of the river sweeping round a group of temples built of white limestone and-red granite. Along the banks were dense growths of tall palms whose dark feathery foliage stretched along the foot of the steep, rocky cliff of the river-bank. A vertical granite wall bordering a high plateau shut off the southern view; the First Cataract of the Nile was situated at the eastern point of this plateau. At this point the valley of the river suddenly narrowed and the expanse of calm, well-tilled fields was broken off abruptly by the immeasurably great expanses of the deserts of Nub, the land of gold. From terraces on the cliffside the tombs of past Princes of the South looked down upon the palace — these were the graves of bold explorers of the countries inhabited by the black people, beginning with the great Herkhuf who had led caravans into the southern countries at the time of the 6th Dynasty. (2625–2475 B.C.)
An experienced desert traveller could discern the regular lines of hieroglyphs of a tremendously long inscription that from that distance had the appearance of the cuneiform inscriptions of the Asian countries. The ruler of the south, however, had no need to read the inscriptions. He knew by heart the proud words of Hemu relating his journey to the Land of Punt (Puoni): “In the eighth year… the keeper of the seal, the keeper of all that is and is not, the curator of the temples, granaries and the white house, the keeper of the Gates of the South.. ” — (Retranslated from Golenishchev’s Russian version of the Egyptian original.) all these titles belonged to Kabuefta as much as to his legendary ancestor.
The distance was lost in the greyish haze caused by the heat, but it was cool on the island — a north wind struggled against the heat encroaching from the south, driving it back to the wilderness of sunburnt plains.
The Prince of the South gazed long at the tombs of his ancestors and then with a gesture ordered a waiting slave to fill the glasses for the last time. The feast was over; the guests rose and followed their host into the inner rooms of the palace. They entered a square, not very high room, beautifully decorated in the style of the great days of Tuthmosis III. (Pharaoh Tuthmosis III (1501–1447 B.C.) — statesman and soldier who added to Egyptian conquests.) The smooth white walls were decorated at the bottom with a broad light blue border, containing an intricate straight-line design composed of white lines, while a narrow strip of wall around the ceiling bore a pattern of lotus flowers and symbolic figures, carried out in blue, green, black and white tones on a background of dull gold.
The ceiling was divided by four wooden beams of a deep cherry colour and surrounded by a checkered border in black and gold. The spaces between the beams were painted in bright colours — gold spirals and white rosettes on a checker-board background in red and blue.
The wide door-posts of polished cedar-wood were bordered with narrow black stripes broken by numerous pairs of blue lines drawn across them.
A carpet, a few folding chairs of ivory covered in leopard skin, two armchairs of. gold-inlaid ebony, a few chests on legs which also served as tables, constituted the entire furniture of the big, bright and airy room.
Without undue haste Kabuefta took his seat in one of the armchairs and his clear-cut profile stood out sharply against the white wall. The officials pulled their chairs closer to him and the Chief Scribe stood by a tall table of ebony inlaid with gold and ivory.
On the polished surface of the table lay a scroll of papyrus with a red and white seal. At a sign from the Prince of the South the Scribe unrolled the papyrus and stood for a moment in respectful silence.
The Commander of the Host, a gaunt, bald-headed man without a wig, winked at the little, stubby Caravan Leader, giving him to understand that the talk for which they had been summoned would now begin.
Sure enough Kabuefta inclined his head and spoke to the assembled officials.
“His Majesty, the Ruler of the Upper and Lower Black Lands, life, health, strength, has sent me an express letter. In it His Majesty commands me to do something unheard of — to bring to the City a beast with a horned nose such as inhabits the land beyond Wawat;* these animals are distinguished for their monstrous strength and ferocity. In the past many beasts from the southern lands have been brought alive to the Great House. The people of the City and the people of Tha-Meri-Heb have seen huge apes, giraffes, the beasts-of Seth** and the groundhogs; savage lions and leopards accompanied Ramses the Great*** and even fought against the enemies of Tha-Quem, but never has a rhinoceros been caught alive.
(* Wawat-the stretch of the Nile between modern Aswan and Khartoum.
** Beasts of Seth — okapi, an animal from the same group as the giraffe. They are now found only in the dense jungles of the Congo but were formerly widespread throughout Africa, being very numerous in the Nile Delta. The figure of the dread Seth, god of darkness, is modelled after this animal.
*** Ramses II (1229–1225 B.C.), the great conqueror. Tame lions fought on the side of the Egyptians against the Hittites.)
“From time immemorial the Princes of the South have provided the Black Land with everything needed from the lands of the black people; nothing has ever been impossible for them to perform. I wish to continue this glorious tradition: Tha-Quem must see a live rhinoceros. I have summoned you that we may take counsel on the easiest way to bring at least one of these terrible monsters to Tha-Quem. What do you say, Nehzi, who have seen so many glorious hunts?” he asked, turning to. the Lord of the Hunt, a morose, obese individual whose wavy hair, dark skin and humped nose betrayed in him a descendant of the Hyksos.
“The beast of the southern plains is indescribably fierce; his skin is impervious to our spears, his strength is that of the elephant,” began Nehzi importantly. “He attacks first, smashing and crushing everything that stands in his way. He is not to be caught in a pit: the heavy animal would most certainly be injured. If we arrange a big hunt and seek a female with her young we might kill the mother, capture the babe and take it to Quemt…” Kabuefta struck angrily on the arm of his chair. “Seven times seven will I fall to the feet of the Great House, my ruler. Fie on you,” the finger of the Prince of the South prodded the dumbfounded Lord of the Hunt, “who dares to sin against His Majesty. Not a hall-dead babe must we bring him, but a great beast, nefer-neferu, the best of the best, an animal in the prime of life, capable of inspiring fear in full measure. Nor can we wait until a cub grows to maturity in captivity… The royal command must be fulfilled with all haste especially as the animal lives far from the Gates of the South.”
Peheni, the Caravan Leader, suggested sending some three hundred of the bravest soldiers without arms but with ropes and nets to capture the monster.
The Commander of the Host, Senofri, scowled at this and Kabuefta frowned at him.
Then the Caravan Leader hastened to add that it would not be necessary to send soldiers but that it would be better to force the Nubians themselves to capture the beast.
Kabuefta shook his head, twisting his mouth into a derisive smile.
“The days of Tuthmosis and Ramses are long past — the. despised inhabitants of the Land of Nub are no longer bowed in submission. Senofri knows with what efforts and cunning we are able to curb the lust of their hungry mouths… No, that will not do, we must capture the animal ourselves…”
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“And if, instead of soldiers, we were to sacrifice slaves,” suggested Senofri with caution.
The worried Kabuefta was suddenly aroused.
“I swear by Ma’at, the all-seeing goddess of truth, that you’re right, O wise commander! I’ll take rebels and runaways from the prisons, these are the boldest of the slaves. They shall capture the monster.”
The Lord of the Hunt smiled an unbelieving smile.
“You are wise, O Prince of the South, but, might I make bold to ask, how are you going to compel the slaves to face certain, death from this fierce monster? Threats will not help, you can only threaten them with death instead of death. What difference will it make to them?”
“You understand animals better than you do men, Nehzi, so leave the men to me. I shall promise them liberty. Those who have already faced death for the sake of liberty will be willing to do go again. That’s exactly why I shall take only rebellious slaves.”
“And will you fulfil your promise?” asked Nehzi again.
Kabuefta stuck out his lower lip haughtily.
“The majesty of the Prince of the South does not permit him to sink so low as to lie to slaves, but they will not return. Leave that to me. You would do better to tell me how many men you’ll need to capture the animal and how far it is to the places where it is to be found.”
“We’ll need no less than two hundred men. The animal will crush a half of them and the remainder will overcome him by their numbers and tie him up. Two months from now begins the season of floods and the grass of the plains will spring up. At that time the animals will come north for the grass and we shall then be able to seek them close to the river near the Sixth Cataract. The most important thing is to capture the animal in the vicinity of the river, since the men will not be able to carry a live animal that weighs as much as seven bulls. Once on the river, we can take it by water in a big cage as far as the City…”
The Land of Foam Page 15