Ancient World 02 - Raiders of the Nile (32 page)

I shrugged. “Will you leave with the others tomorrow, Menkhep?”

“Of course.”

“What about your trading post?”

“My brother will stay behind, for now.”

“I should think he’ll have a lot of customers at the trading post, with an army marching through.”

Menkhep’s expression turned sour. “They’ll probably ransack the place and burn it down. Soldiers are swine.” He took a swig from his cup. His smile returned. “But if all goes well, soon every man here will have more riches than he ever dreamed of. I’ll be able to buy every trading post in the Delta, if I wish.”

I looked at him intently. “You know more than you’ve told me, don’t you? You know where we’re going.”

“Perhaps.”

“Lucky man. Artemon trusts you.”

“He’s had to share his plans with a few of us; he can’t do everything himself. But even I don’t know the half of it. I’d tell you all I do know, except…”

“I understand.”

“Maybe Artemon himself intends to tell you.”

I cocked my head.

“That’s why I came looking for you. Artemon wants to see you.”

“Now?”

Menkhep nodded. “He’s alone in his hut, looking at maps and scrolls. He wants you to come. Leave the boy with me. I’ll look after him.”

I rose to my feet. My legs were unsteady. With a feeling of dread, I walked toward Artemon’s hut.

XXX

Alone in his hut, Artemon sat surrounded by lamps hung from metal stands. Every surface was covered with open scrolls, charts, and maps. I quickly looked from document to document, trying to read the scrolls upside down and make out the maps, hoping for some clue to our destination, but seeing none.

Artemon saw me looking at the scrolls. “A pity that I’ll have to leave so many of these behind. I can take only the most important ones. I’ll be up half the night sorting through them.”

I took in the sheer volume of so many documents crammed into all the pigeonholes and leather boxes. “When Soter’s army comes marching through, what will they make of such a library, here in the middle of nowhere?”

“The invaders will find no trace of all this. There’ll be no trace of anything to do with the Cuckoo’s Nest, except ashes. Everything will be burned. There’ll be nothing left to link us to this place.”

“And nothing to come back to—except all these crates of buried treasure.”

Artemon snorted. “The things we buried today are hardly worth coming back for—mere baubles and trinkets. Let the invaders dig it up, if they wish. The important thing is that no trace of any man’s identity remains in this place—no keepsake or letter or anything else that might have a name on it. It must be as if the Cuckoo’s Nest, and the Cuckoo’s Gang, never existed.”

I thought of my old tutor, Antipater, who had faked his own death in Rome and put great effort into covering his tracks before we set out on our journey to the Seven Wonders. Did any man ever do such a thing unless he had some mischievous motive? Artemon’s determination to remove all trace of our habitation made me uneasy.

“What will become of us all?” I whispered.

Artemon gave me a quizzical look. He shook his head. “Why can’t you be like the others, Pecunius? I’ve never seen them so happy and carefree. They’re tired of this place. What is the Cuckoo’s Nest, after all, but a bunch of leaky huts in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by crocodiles and mud? The men are thrilled to leave this place behind and set out on a great adventure. They don’t care where we’re going, as long as it’s far from here. But not you, Pecunius. You always seem to have something on your mind.”

I shrugged. “Menkhep said you wanted to see me.”

“Yes. I have something for you.” He opened a small wooden box, drew out a silver necklace, and handed it to me. Attached to the chain was the fang I had pulled from Cheelba. The rot had been scraped away and the cavity filled with silver. The tooth had been cleaned and polished and mounted in a silver bracket. The design was simple but the workmanship was superb.

“We have among us a rather talented silversmith. I think he did a good job with this, don’t you?”

I nodded.

“Aren’t you going to put it on?”

I clasped the chain around my neck. I touched the lion’s tooth, which lay just above my breastbone.

“It suits you, Pecunius. Perhaps it will bring you good fortune.”

“If not, at least I’ll have a reminder of the most terrifying day of my life.”

He laughed.

“Thank you, Artemon. It’s a fine gift. If that’s all, I realize how busy you must be—”

“No, Pecunius, don’t go. Stay. I thought you might share a drink with me, on the eve of our departure. I have here the last of the best of the wine that we salvaged from that shipwreck. According to a stamp on the amphora, it comes all the way from Mount Falernus. That’s in Italy, isn’t it? I’m afraid the silver cups are all packed away.”

He poured from a simple clay pitcher into two clay cups. He made a show of smelling the wine before he drank, and I followed his example. As little as I knew about such matters, even I could tell that the wine was exquisite. I gladly drank it down, and felt its warmth spread through me.

Artemon refilled the cups. “This may be our last quiet moment for quite some time. Beginning tomorrow, everything will be a mad rush. Great events shall unfold, one after another.”

“How much wine have you drunk already, Artemon?”

“Ha! You think my words are grandiose, don’t you? I suppose, to a fellow who’s seen as much of the world as you have, the Cuckoo’s Nest is such a tawdry place that you can’t imagine anything grand or noble could ever come from it.”

“I meant no offense—”

“Perhaps we should rename this place the Nest of the Phoenix. The phoenix is native to the Nile. Did you know that? I’ve never seen one, but if such a magical bird exists anywhere, it’s here in Egypt. The phoenix ends its life by bursting into flames—a shocking death. But then it stirs and rises from the ashes, reborn, more beautiful and resplendent than before.” He gazed dreamily into space.

What a strange mood he was in. Like the others, Artemon seemed to be invigorated by the prospect of a grand adventure ahead. Their elation was open and raucous. His was quiet and concentrated, yet burned just as hotly. His face was flushed and his eyes seemed slightly unfocused, as if he had a fever.

“That was a thing to see!” he said, pointing at my necklace and abruptly changing the subject.

“What?”

“When you pulled Cheelba’s tooth! The men were thunderstruck. So was I. No one else would have dared to do such a thing. You weren’t just clever and resourceful. You were fearless.”

I shook my head. “Just because you saw no fear, that doesn’t mean I wasn’t feeling it.”

He laughed. “Oh, Pecunius, you have no idea how different your initiation was from that of most of the men. The ritual usually ends in the initiate’s complete humiliation. The man in the pit pisses himself, tries to claw his way out, screams and begs and cries like a child. And the men watching laugh so hard they piss themselves as well. It’s a comedy, a farce. Then all is revealed, the man is pulled from the pit, and everyone laughs some more, and no one laughs harder than the initiate in his piss-soaked loincloth. But you, Pecunius—you treated us to a very different sort of spectacle.”

He looked at me thoughtfully. “Something sets you apart from the others. Even the best of them, like Menkhep, can’t think more than few days ahead. They move about in a sort of stupor, ruled by the most basic emotions and appetites—fear, hunger, lust, vengeance. They need a man like me to guide them. But you, Pecunius—you seem to be ruled by some higher power, some greater purpose. Is it because you’re a Roman? Are Romans truly different? Or is it something else? You’re a puzzle, Pecunius.”

I shrugged.

“I’ll tell you one thing: no one benefited more from your quick thinking and bravery than Cheelba. That lion loves you, Pecunius. You’ve made a friend for life.”

“Cheelba!” I laughed, remembering the lion’s absurd disguise. I, too, was beginning to feel the effects of the wine. “What will become of him? Surely you won’t leave him to the mercy of the soldiers?”

“Of course not. Cheelba’s coming with us.”

“A lion on a boat! Ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous, indeed. All the more reason to take him along.”

“What about the crocodile? You don’t intend to bring that stinking creature with us, too?”

“Certainly not! Tomorrow, just before we set out, I shall lower a plank into Mangobbler’s pit. If he has any sense, the beast will scamper out and take shelter in the lagoon. Hopefully, when the soldiers come, he’ll bite off the foot of any man who dares to go digging for buried treasure.”

We shared a laugh and drank more wine.

“Do you know, Pecunius, I’ve never gotten drunk with a Roman before.”

“Nor I with a bandit king.”

Instead of laughing, he suddenly looked thoughtful. “Is it true that in Rome, by law, every father wields the power of life and death over his children?”

“It is.”

“What is that like?”

“For the father, or the child? I think you already know what it’s like to have the power of life and death over others, Artemon.” I remembered the wretched end of Hairy Shoulders.

“What about your father, Pecunius?”

“My father?”

“Is he still alive?”

“Yes,” I said quietly. “He’s back in Rome. At least I hope he’s still alive.…”

“Are you close to him? Is there love between you?”

I sighed and held out my cup. “Yes.”

Artemon poured more wine for us both. “I never knew my father. When I was growing up, I knew who he was, but the man wanted nothing to do with me. He disclaimed all knowledge of me. He rejected me. Disowned me.”

I blinked. The wine had begun to blur the edges of things, so that even the ground beneath me felt uncertain. “I don’t know what to say, Artemon.”

“Thank the gods that you have a father, and that he loves you.”

I nodded.

“I’ve never told any of the other men what I’ve just told you, Pecunius.”

“Why me?”

He shrugged. “Why not? You’re the man who pulled a lion’s tooth.”

We both smiled.

Under the spell of the wine, the cares that held me like bands of iron seemed to loosen a bit. I was glad for the respite, no matter how temporary. But what about Artemon? What cares gripped him? Who was he, and where did he come from? What dreams inspired him? What nightmares gnawed at his sleep? That night, sitting in a hut that would soon be ashes, he felt a need to unburden himself. I made a show of sympathy, and listened carefully. Even in my wine-dulled state, I knew that the more I knew about Bethesda’s captor, the better would be our chances to survive and escape.

“I’ll tell you something else that no one knows,” he said. “I’m a twin.”

“Is that a fact?”

“It is. You Romans are descended from twins, aren’t you?”

“Romulus and Remus were the founders of the city. I’m not sure Remus had any children, before Romulus killed him.”

“A twin killing a twin—imagine that! What a strange beginning for a race that wants to rule the world.”

“I will ignore that slur against my people,” I said. “So, Artemon and Romulus are each a twin. Is there any famous leader you don’t resemble?”

“What do you mean?”

“The men compare you to Alexander.”

“Do they?”

“And to Moses. I myself compared you to Scipio Africanus when I was talking to Menkhep the other day. Now I find that you’re more like Romulus than I could have imagined.”

“Unlike Romulus, I did not murder my twin,” said Artemon quietly.

“Did the two of you grow up together?”

“Yes.”

“Did your father also reject…?”

The question was indelicate. Artemon lowered his eyes and did not answer.

I took advantage of the awkward silence to change the subject. “You say you plan to bring Cheelba with us, but not Mangobbler. What about … Metrodora?”

He smiled faintly. “What are the men of the Cuckoo’s Gang without their soothsayer? Of course she’s coming with us … at least for part of the journey.”

“What about … the other woman?” I said, with a quaver in my voice.

Artemon raised an eyebrow.

“The captive, I mean; the one who’s hidden in the hut with Metrodora.”

He frowned. “Did Metrodora tell you about her?”

I shrugged. “All the men know she’s there, even if most of them have never seen her. I’ve begun to think she’s a legend, or a phantom conjured up by Metrodora.”

“The girl is quite real, I assure you,” he said, with a pinch at the corner of his mouth.

“Is she as beautiful as they say?”

“Why are you so curious, Pecunius?”

“What man wouldn’t be? Except for the witch, I haven’t set eyes on a woman since—”

“If you happen to see Axiothea during our departure tomorrow, I suggest you avert your eyes. Her face will be covered by a veil, anyway.”

“Is it dangerous to look at her? Is she a witch, like Metrodora?”

“She has no need to cast spells,” he muttered. “Her power is greater than that.”

“You make her sound like a queen,” I said.

His eyes lit up. His speech was slurred. “A queen? No. Not yet. But I could make her one. And I will! If only she’d let me.…”

He reached for the pitcher. Only a few drops remained. He poured them into his cup, then threw the pitcher aside. It struck something hard and broke into pieces.

I flinched. Artemon stared at me over the rim of his cup, suddenly wary. “If you’re missing female companionship, Pecunius, have patience. When this is all over, you shall have the means to indulge in whatever pleasures you desire. You do trust me, don’t you?”

“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.