by David Bell
“Ship oars. Hands to bow and stern lines,” bellowed Typhis.
“Go,” said Kanesh. “They will be watching you from the warship, but after Lemaka you know what to do.”
Sharesh darted to the stempost which held the bowline and picked up the heavy coiled rope. He glanced back and saw that Namun was already at the stern post and ready to throw.
“Cast bowline,” came the voice of Typhis like a thunderclap.
Sharesh swung the coil behind him, then forward and upward, higher and farther than he would have thought he should, and there it was, caught by a dockworker and the end swiftly hitched round a bollard. Namun’s cast was made a moment later and was just as true. The Dolphin was warped up to the jetty with the hawsers and secured. Its job done, the pilot boat pulled away across the harbour to its mooring point near the river mouth.
“Get back here,” roared Typhis.
He was too late. The boys had been struggling, each trying to stop the other from being first ashore. They were still locked together when they fell in a heap onto the jetty, at the feet of a short crop-haired man wearing a creased leather kilt. In one hand the man held a cane, and in the other a sheaf of thongs from which hung clay tablets. He looked down with a puzzled frown and poked first Namun and then Sharesh with the toe of one sandalled foot.
“Unusual for a ship just docked to throw out the rubbish first,” he said to no one in particular.
“I see from your tablets, sir, that you have forty jars of oil and twenty casks of barley in the second warehouse,” said Sharesh, looking up and shading his eyes from the light.
The man’s eyes widened and his frown vanished. “Lady Mother preserve us, it not only speaks but reads, too,” he sighed.
Sharesh jumped to his feet. “I am Sharesh.”
“Ah, yes, Dareka’s boy. And your mother is the Lady Akusha.” He bowed his head slightly at the name. “I have heard of you. And this? I think I have seen it before.”
“I am Namun.”
The man now ignored them and addressed himself to Potyr who was standing on the stern with Typhis, watching the interchanges with a look of faint amusement on his face.
“Welcome back to Keftiu, Master Potyr. How did you leave the owner? Well, I trust?”
“Well enough,” replied Potyr. “We were a long time at sea.”
“And came through a storm off Telchina, I hear, thanks to the Lady Mother.”
“As you say. She protected us. Now, we have business, master agent. May we come ashore?”
“Indeed. But you have a passenger, and someone awaits him.”
Kanesh stepped onto the jetty and towered over Merida’s agent. Sharesh noticed that Kanesh was carrying a leather pouch slung by a strap over his shoulder and under his cloak the long sword in its scabbard hung from his belt. Kanesh looked down at the agent but said nothing. The man backed away a step and pointed towards the warship, his cane quivering in his shaking hand. Kanesh strode away in that direction, his limp hardly noticeable. The agent looked after him, shuddered slightly, then tried to compose himself, and turned back towards the Dolphin.
“Much to do, Master Potyr; you have permission for special consignments to be unloaded here and receipted, and then you will have to make for the town harbour to unload the rest of your cargo for storage in our warehouses there. Certain stores await your inspection, mostly timber with one very large trunk of cedar that was floated along the coast and has been drying out for some considerable time. Your crew may stretch their legs in watches on the jetty here but that is all. The Palace guards patrol this port.”
“And my ‘passenger’?”
“I have been told that in due course the lord will rejoin you in the town port.”
After formal introductions had been made on the stern of the warship, the commander glanced from one of his visitors to the other, and waited while these two formidable men took stock of each other.
“I will take the despatches, sir,” said the Captain of Archers.
“No,” said Kanesh. “I will hand over the despatches myself. The Governor wishes it so.” He paused, looked at the Commander of the warship, and then back to the Captain of Archers. “I should be honoured if you would conduct me to the deputy commander, the Lord Sekara,” he said.
“The honour will be mine. As it happens, he has just completed an inspection of the work on the harbour wall and is speaking with the port controller in his residence. It is a short walk from here.” He turned and pointed beyond the harbour wall in the direction of a small hill rising from the headland that jutted towards the offshore island. “Or I can order a bullock cart…”
Kanesh cut him short. “No need for that,” he said. “After two days on that ship, a walk along the shore in a fresh breeze is to be welcomed.”
The flat beach was firm under their feet. They passed men working on ships hauled up on the sand. Seamen were prising barnacles off the timbers of one ship and scraping the surface smooth with flattened pebbles of pumice; a carpenter was splicing a wedge of new wood into the sternpost of another vessel while his mate was re-caulking the deck planks with strands of wool mixed with lime. The sounds of sawing and hammering mixed with bursts of song and whistling came from sheds further up the beach where ships laid up for the winter were being prepared for sea. Near the ship sheds were storehouses and a small barracks. They walked round the seaward side of the hill, passing a house with a stone fountain on the way, and came to a paved roadway that led them to the top. A large house surrounded by gardens and cypress trees stood on the highest point with a clear view of the approaches to the port. A detachment of soldiers carrying spears stood at ease outside the main entrance. With Kanesh at his side the Captain of Archers spoke briefly to their officer who saluted and led them up steps and into the entrance hall where a steward was waiting. While the man went off to announce their arrival, Kanesh walked about the hall looking through the wide wood-framed windows, down to a paved courtyard from one, out to sea from another. The walls were painted with patterns of sea creatures, Dolphins, sea horses, tritons and starfish. Tall urns filled with rushes and flowers stood between the window cavities. A mild salt-scented breeze flowed through the room.
The steward re-appeared and begged them to follow him up a staircase leading to the floor above, where the port controller had his workroom and private apartments. At the end of a corridor the steward stopped before a door and rapped softly on it with his wand, paused, and rapped again. He opened the door, ushered them inside with a bow, and withdrew. The room was empty except for a low table of white alabaster in the centre, and a limestone bench beside a doorway in the wall opposite. The door was closed. A large fresco showing lilies, sedge plants and what Kanesh thought might be a date palm, glowed on the wall above the bench, catching light from a window which looked out to sea. They waited. Kanesh walked to the window and looked over towards the harbour. He saw movement around the Dolphin; lines were cast off and oars pushed her bow away from the jetty. He looked round enquiringly at the Captain of Archers but he stood motionless and silent. Kanesh walked across to the bench and sat down. A moment later, he got up and walked back to the window. The Dolphin had turned and looked ready to make for the harbour entrance. Kanesh walked back to the doorway, gave the door one blow with his fist, thrust it open, and walked into the room beyond. He heard the Captain of Archers come up behind him.
There was no doubt as to which of the two men in the room was Sekara. He was leaning over a table on which were scattered clay tablets, a clay model of a building, and sheets of what Kanesh at first took to be sheepskin, covered with writing and drawings. His hand was already on the hilt of a bronze dirk hanging from his belt as he stood upright and glared at the intruder. He wore a sleeveless jerkin of scuffed leather and a kilt of the kind usually seen on a dock labourer. His hair was cropped short like one accustomed to wearing a helmet. A faint smile emphasised the thin lines running down each side of his full-lipped mouth.
“I wondered how long it
would be before you came in,” he said. His hand left the dagger. Kanesh said nothing. “I apologise for playing games. It was unworthy of me. They have their purposes, of course.”
“I am Kanesh. I see you are a horseman.”
Sekara frowned for a moment, then smiled again. “My legs show it,” he said. “For those who know what to look for.”
“And there is a whip, there on the window ledge. Why is my ship leaving harbour?”
“The Palace harbour is for Palace vessels and cargo intended for the Palace only. Your ship will land the remainder of its goods at the merchants’ wharf in the town harbour. Now, I am Sekara, and you have despatches for me.”
Kanesh placed the leather pouch containing the clay tablets on the table.
“I thank you. Now, I am sure some refreshment would not come amiss after your travels. Our host here, the port controller, will see to it. My Captain of Archers will accompany you. Then you and I will talk.”
After two maids had cleared away the dishes, the steward asked if he could be of any further service. The port controller dismissed him and then made his own excuses for having to leave to deal with an urgent matter at the harbour. Kanesh and the Captain of Archers went out onto a terrace that ran round three sides of the ground floor of the house. Kanesh saw that the Dolphin had cleared the harbour and was standing well out to sea in preparation for changing course towards the town harbour. He thought of Sharesh. The boy had spirit and a thirst for knowledge. Keftiu would test both. He thought of Akusha. She had taken refuge on Keftiu, after the bad times. He turned to look in the opposite direction, his eyes taking in the line of a road that followed the riverside to where it was joined by the coast road. Near the junction was a low outcrop of rock and beside it a paved square with monuments, and a windowless building. A few figures moved about between the building and the outcrop, pausing for a while at one or other of the monuments. All of them seemed to be women or girls.
“It is the temple of Eleitheia; her mysteries are celebrated in the cave sacred to her in those rocks. What they do there is for women only.”
Kanesh nodded. The road broadened and climbed upwards, following a twisting path until it reached lines of cypress trees and flower gardens topping a hill on the far side of the river valley. From the levelled top of this hill rose, floor on floor, tower after tower, sharp-edged against the blue of the sky and all glistening pale gold in the sun, flat-roofed halls and temples, apartments and guard rooms, all flanked with colonnades, lobbies and cloisters, and reached by broad staircases or gently rising ramps paved with white stone. The highest building was a temple open on all sides, with its roof held up by dark red pillars. Crowning the eaves were rows of gilded sacred horns. The Palace, Kunisu, thought Kanesh, is many palaces. Anywhere else there would have been defensive walls. A confident people they must be, confident in their sea power and the power of their trade. Or careless, perhaps? He turned to his companion.
“Where do you train?”
“We have a range on the other side of the Palace. We use the short bow now. Bronze broadhead point shafts. Better penetration, real killer. Expensive, though. For ship practice we use a bay along the coast with towed targets.”
“And your strength?”
“Hm. I suppose I can tell you now. Seventy trained, fifty training. We should have more.”
“Any trained for chariot work?”
“Some. That’s what the short bow’s good for. Have you driven chariots?”
“I would be interested to see yours.”
“Well, that’s up to the deputy commander; he’s in charge.”
The steward appeared and bowed to them. “The deputy commander requests the presence of Lord Kanesh now, if you please.” To the Captain of Archers he said, “Sir, you are expected here before dusk.”
The steward led Kanesh back to the room they had left at midday. The sun was now halfway down the sky. The doors were wide open and Kanesh strode through and up to the table. Sekara rose to his feet, pushing away the sheets of drawings.
“It comes from the Black Land,” he said. “They call it wadij, I am told. The scribes there use it to keep their records, with picture writing, as I expect you know. It’s made from the pith of a sedge which they soak in water and press in layers until it all sticks together; then they dry it and smooth it out and cut it into sheets like these. It takes paint or you can write or draw on it with a pointed reed and the blood of cuttlefish. It’s better than a scraped goatskin and easier to carry about than a pouch full of clay tablets, although it doesn’t last as long. Scribes think only of using the stuff to write their lists, but if you find the right artist he can draw or paint buildings or ships for you, and that’s a help to masons and shipwrights. Now that there is trouble in the Black Land, I am trying to get it made here. You find the sedge growing in marshy ground almost everywhere. We have it on Keftiu but all we do here is paint pictures of it.”
He pointed to a wooden staircase in the corner of the room. Kanesh followed him up to the roof where there were stools to sit on and a table under a canopy of rushes. They looked across a low parapet towards the harbour.
“We are having trouble with the seawall. It should be much farther out by now. Shipments for the Palace grow bigger every year and we need more wharf space and anchorage protected against the cross-shore winds. The problem is bringing in enough cut stone from the quarries along the coast. We need more sea transport. There is no shortage of rubble for the fill and that comes by bullock cart.”
“Once she is unloaded and refitted, the Dolphin will be available for that work,” said Kanesh. “Merida has made this her last ocean-going voyage and she has the draught for the sort of work you need.”
“Ah, yes, Merida. Ambitious rogue. He has offered to supply cut stone from his quarry at a suspiciously low price, but we will take it. We need to talk about him; but first, tell me, how did you leave Koreta?”
“Prepared to meet death and agree terms with the old opponent.”
Sekara laughed and banged the table with his fist. “I expected no less. All who meet him receive his courtesy, but you seem also to have also gained his trust. He supports the proposals you are here to make. That is enough for me. But I wish to hear the details, all of them, from your own lips. Not here, not now: in my own chambers in the Palace, after your reception by the Commander. That will be after sunset. The Commander prefers the cool of the evening for these formalities. You brought a boy from Kallista with you.”
Kanesh was unruffled by the sudden change of subject. “The Governor’s despatches omit little,” he said evenly. “I owe the boy my life, or perhaps I owe it to his dog. I was kept alive through the care of his mother and her husband. As some small recompense for that debt I undertook to help with his education, and be his guardian whenever needed. He can learn things on Keftiu that Kallista cannot offer, if he has freedom to do so.”
“There will be no question about that. After all, he is the Lady Akusha’s son. So it is appropriate for him to be in your care and with that purpose in mind. Let us turn to other matters. I have read the Governor’s despatches, and the warship commander has briefed me about his patrol. What I should now like to hear is your impression, as one new to the place and from a distant land – is that not so? – of the state of things on Kallista. Shall we sit here in the shade? Ah, good, put them here.” The steward had appeared at the top of the staircase, carrying a kitchen jug and two beakers. Following him was a boy with clay bowls of figs and apricots.
“Juice of the pomegranate,” said Sekara, pouring purple liquid into the beakers. “And fruit from the Palace orchards. I always think they taste better out of kitchen pottery.”
They talked until the sun began to near the horizon. Sekara questioned Kanesh courteously but closely about many things: the movement of shipping; sources of supplies and destinations of goods; what crafts were best developed; whether ship repair had yet gone on to ship building; what was the mood of the people, were they strong in th
eir beliefs and respectful of their temples? To most of these and many other questions Kanesh gave laconic answers, as factual as he knew. As to the people’s beliefs, he thought longer before answering, then finally said, “Trade as it grows makes new discoveries and so begins to rival religion for attention, and inevitably to begin to question its control. As the one changes, so must the other, or be changed itself.”
Sekara looked at him long and thoughtfully before speaking again. “Let us go down before the light fades. I have something to show you.”
Even before they left the entrance hall, Kanesh knew what stood outside: the snorting and scraping sounds and smell of leather and sweat were unmistakeable, no matter how long it had been since the last time he had been close to them. These were not ponies like the shaggy-coated little beast with the stripe along its back that his father had given him as his first mount; and not like the grey mare who took one arrow in the throat and another in the chest, but kept going, shrieking and pouring blood, until they smashed through the first line; and only then did she go down, dragging the gelding with her; and he rolled free as the assault chariot broke away and spun over and over into the archers, felling them in heaps.