Ancient World 02 - Raiders of the Nile (31 page)

“Alexandria?”

“‘My eyes and ears in the capital,’ Artemon calls him. But he might better call the fellow his hands—hands that make such clever things!”

“What’s his name?”

“He’s called the Jackal.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I am. Why do you ask?”

“I thought perhaps I’d seen him before, in Alexandria. But the man I’m thinking of had a different name.”

Menkhep laughed. “You should know by now that the men of the Cuckoo’s Gang go by many names, especially when they’re out in the regular world. Too bad you didn’t get a chance to meet the Jackal while he was here. You could have congratulated him.”

“On what?”

“On doing such a good job with Cheelba’s costume! It fooled you, didn’t it? It was the Jackal who came up with that idea. He concocted the dyes and fabricated the false stinger and the tusk and all the rest. Very clever at making one thing look like another, that fellow. He specializes in forgeries and disguises.”

“Does he indeed? What about kidnappings?”

Menkhep gave me a shrewd look. “You always seem to know more than you let on, Roman. How could you possibly know that the Jackal was behind the kidnapping of that pretty girl in Metrodora’s hut?”

“Is that why he was here to talk to Artemon, about the ransom we’re still waiting to receive?”

He laughed. “Eager for your share, eh? Yes, that’s one of the things they talked about, I’m sure.”

“Was it the Jackal who brought her here?”

Menkhep shook his head. “No, that was done by other agents of the gang, taking their orders from the Jackal. He himself could never be seen by the girl, because the two of them know each other.”

“I see! So if this girl—Axiothea, she’s called?—were ever to see the Jackal, and realize he was behind her kidnapping, that would compromise his secret identity in Alexandria. Therefore, since the time she was kidnapped, she has never laid eyes on the Jackal—and he has never laid eyes on her.”

“Exactly. I do believe you’re beginning to get the hang of this bandit business, Pecunius. Though sometimes I think you might be too curious for your own good.”

I left him and went into my hut, needing to be alone and think.

The last time I had seen Lykos was the day I came upon Melmak in the tavern in Alexandria. Lykos had joined us toward the end of our conversation. “What news of Axiothea?” he had asked Melmak, sounding utterly innocent. The man scoffed at actors, but he himself was quite a performer. He had fooled not just me, but Melmak, as well.

What if Lykos had seen me during his brief visit to the Cuckoo’s Nest, and had recognized me? Just as his presence there was no coincidence, so he surely would have realized that my presence was no coincidence, either.

I recalled our last, brief exchange in the tavern in Alexandria. Lykos had said, “You have that lovely slave girl—what’s her name?”

And I had whispered, “Bethesda.”

And Melmak had said, “Only she’s gone missing, too.”

I could imagine Lykos understanding the situation in a flash, realizing that the wrong girl had been kidnapped—a suspicion he could easily confirm by taking a look at the false Axiothea. Lykos would have told Artemon, and my purpose in coming would have been exposed. I would have been dead before nightfall.

XXIX

From that day on, I lived in fear that Lykos might come back. But soon enough, other events swept aside that worry, for at last came the day of Artemon’s announcement.

Everyone was called to the clearing. An air of excitement hung over the assembly. This was the day everyone had been waiting for. When Artemon mounted the dais and raised his hands, we all stopped talking and fell silent.

“Men of the Cuckoo’s Nest, a great change is coming. We can do nothing to stop it. But we do have a choice to make. We can either be destroyed by this change—or find a way to profit from it.”

Artemon let this sink in for a moment, then raised his voice above the excited murmurs set off by his comments.

“You know that the Cuckoo’s Gang has eyes all over Egypt. That includes our confederates on the easternmost branch of the Nile, in Pelusium. Those agents report alarming news. An army is about to march across the Delta. When I say an army, I don’t mean an exploratory party or a small detachment, such as we’ve seen and dealt with before. I mean a true army—a disciplined, well-armed force of thousands of war-hardened soldiers who are determined to destroy or conquer everything in their path—including the Cuckoo’s Nest.”

“Whose army is this?” a man shouted. “Why are they coming here?”

“The men of this army serve Soter, the brother of King Ptolemy, who until now has been in exile. The purpose of this army is to sweep across Egypt, throw the king off his throne, and install Soter in his place. On their way to Alexandria, they will eradicate all resistance and deal with any other problems they encounter. Banditry is one of those problems. The new king wants to boast that he put an end to lawlessness in the Delta. That means the eradication of the Cuckoo’s Nest and the execution of every man here.”

“What can we do?” someone shouted.

“We can fight them!” said another. There were scattered cheers.

“Or perhaps … perhaps we can join them?” said another, a bit timidly. Jeers and catcalls followed.

Artemon raised his hands. “We are hopelessly outnumbered. To fight means certain death—death by the sword if you’re lucky, death by crucifixion or hanging if you’re not. Fighting is not the answer. Nor could we join this army, even if we wished to do so. Soter has vowed to take no outlaws into his ranks. He doesn’t want his claim on the throne to be sullied by enlisting the likes of us.”

“Soter was already king once. Egypt deserves a new king!” someone shouted. Many others grunted agreement and nodded. Were they thinking of Artemon?

“What are we to do?” said one of the men. “Are we to flee, and abandon the Cuckoo’s Nest?”

“That’s exactly what we must do,” said Artemon.

“But where can we go? How are we to get there?”

“I have a plan—not a hurried, makeshift scheme, but a plan that’s been a long time in the making. Months ago, I saw this invasion coming—”

“Metrodora foresaw it, you mean!” said one of the men.

Artemon cracked a smile. “Perhaps. The important thing isn’t who foresaw the danger or how, but that it was foreseen, and that preparations have been made for all of us to survive. We’re not alone, we lucky few who live here as free men in the Cuckoo’s Nest. We’re not without resources. We’re not without friends. The Cuckoo’s Gang is more than the Cuckoo’s Nest. The Cuckoo’s Gang is a net thrown across the whole of Egypt, and beyond—a net large enough and strong enough to catch every man here and hold him safe. Never have we faced a greater threat, but if you agree to follow me, to carry out my orders, to obey without question, then every man here has a good chance to survive—and not merely survive, but to come out of this predicament richer than ever! We shall turn disaster to our advantage. We shall laugh in the face of misfortune. But for that to happen, you must trust me. Every one of you must put your trust in me, completely and without reservation.”

“Of course we trust you!” shouted Menkhep. “There’s never been a leader to match you. We’ll do whatever you tell us to do, Artemon. Won’t we? What do you say, men?” Menkhep turned about and pumped his hands in the air to rally the others. There was a flurry of foot stamping, clapping, and cheering.

I cleared my throat. For better or worse, I was now a member of the gang and had as much right to speak as the others. “What happens next, Artemon?” I shouted, but my words were lost in the din. As the commotion subsided, I shouted the question again, louder, so that my voice rang in the air.

Artemon searched the crowd to see who was asking. He saw me and gave me a nod. “Today we make preparations to abandon the Cuckoo’s Nest, forever. Tomorrow, we’ll depart in the long boats, and never look back.”

As the others absorbed this in silence, I thought of Bethesda. What were Artemon’s plans for her? “What happens after that?” I shouted. “We leave in the long boats, and then what? Where do we go? What happens when we get there?”

Artemon smiled. “It seems that our newest member is also the most eager to press me with questions. I’ve asked you all to trust me, but Pecunius can’t stifle his Roman curiosity.”

The men around me laughed. I could see they were caught up in a rush of excitement. Everything in their world was about to change. With Artemon to lead them, they were ready to take a desperate leap into the future.

“Call me nosy, but I’d still like to know where we’re going,” I said. “Why can’t you tell us more, Artemon?”

From his place atop the dais, he looked down at me. “Why must I be secretive? Because among us there may yet be spies, men who would betray us to our enemies. You Romans are such famed strategists, Pecunius, surely you understand the need for secrecy, especially at such a juncture.”

This statement prompted grunts and nods of agreement.

“For now, I can tell you this much,” said Artemon. “We’ll travel downriver to the inlet where we scavenged the shipwreck. A ship will meet us there—a large ship, big enough to accommodate every man here and all the treasure we can bring. There’ll be a crew of sailors and rowers already on board, men who’ve taken the same pledge that all of you have taken.”

“We’re sailing away on the open sea?” I said. “Leaving Egypt?” Where would such a journey take me? What did it mean for Bethesda?

“Too many questions, Pecunius!” said Artemon. “That’s all I can tell you for now. What do you say, men of the Cuckoo’s Gang? Are you with me? Will you follow me? If any man here opposes the idea, now is the time to—”

Whatever else he might have said was drowned out by a roar of acclamations. The rootless, restless men around me were ready to follow Artemon anywhere.

*   *   *

For the rest of the day, the men of the Cuckoo’s Gang were consumed with the work of dismantling their stronghold and sorting through their valuables, deciding what to take and what to leave behind. As much booty as possible was stowed in sacks and trunks and loaded onto the long boats. The excess was stored in crates and buried underground, to be retrieved at some future date. Artemon himself oversaw much of this work. The men were constantly pressing him for guidance.

At the first opportunity, I stole away and headed for the hut of Ismene and Bethesda. I took Djet with me, thinking he might serve as a lookout.

A vague plan had begun to form in my mind. The next day, the entire Cuckoo’s Gang would head north, toward the coast. What if Bethesda and I headed in the opposite direction, upriver? With a ship ready to depart and an invading army on its way, surely no one from Artemon’s gang would bother to pursue us. It seemed that our chance to escape had arrived at last.

But when I caught my first glimpse of the hut through a break in the foliage, I stifled a groan. Artemon had set not one man to guard it, but several. Watching from the bushes, I counted at least four. Amid the sudden uproar and excitement generated by his announcement, it seemed that Artemon was taking no chances that some harm might befall his beloved.

Almost certainly this meant that he planned to take Bethesda with him, and also that the hut would be guarded every moment until it was time to depart. My heart sank.

“You despair, Roman,” said a low voice. I peered into the tangle of vines and leaves and suddenly perceived Ismene, standing only a few feet away. Djet gasped in surprise. The witch had approached without a sound. Or had she been there all along?

“What will become of us, Ismene?” I whispered.

“Us? If you mean the men of the Cuckoo’s Gang—”

“You know what I mean!” I strained to keep my voice low. “Bethesda and me. Where is Artemon taking us? What will he do with her?”

“For now, she’s as safe as she ever was. She’s like a jewel that Artemon keeps in a box. No harm will come to her.”

“But Artemon…”

“Even he doesn’t dare to take the jewel from the box. Not yet.”

“But tomorrow we head for the coast. What then?”

Ismene made no answer.

“Does Bethesda know what’s happening? Does she know I’m still here?”

“She knows.”

“They say you can see the future, Ismene. What do you foresee for Bethesda and me? Will she ever be mine again?”

“I’m not sure that she was ever yours, never mind the fact that you own her.”

“You speak in riddles! Why do you torment me?”

I spoke too loudly. The nearest guard, seated on a stump in front of Bethesda’s hut, turned his head in our direction and furrowed his brow. He reached for his spear and rose to his feet, all the while staring in our direction.

Ismene gave me a sour look, then loudly rustled the foliage and stepped into the clearing.

The guard looked at her, then peered beyond her, into the bushes. “Who were you talking to? Is someone there?”

“You dare to question me, little man?” Ismene’s back was to me, but I could imagine her stern expression. The guard bowed his head and stepped back.

“Forgive me, Metrodora!”

Without looking back, Ismene disappeared inside the hut.

As silently as we could, Djet and I made our way back to the Cuckoo’s Nest.

*   *   *

The long day drew to a close. The men had done all they could to get ready. They were weary but elated. Not one of them showed the least anxiety or regret at the prospect of abandoning the Cuckoo’s Nest. Beer and wine were brought out, and the twilight hour took on a festive air.

I sat on the pier beside Djet, staring at the water and the boats crowded along the shore, riding low with their heavy cargoes. A lone ibis flew overhead; when I looked up, I saw the first star in the darkening sky. From the clearing behind us I heard echoes of laughter and singing. The merriment of the others made my own mood seem even darker.

I heard steps at the foot of the pier, and looked over my shoulder to see Menkhep. He held a wooden cup in one hand, and had a stupid smile on his face.

“You look cheerful,” I said.

“And you don’t. Why aren’t you drinking, Pecunius?”