Black Ships (18 page)

“I do,” Neas said. “And tell Her Majesty that I appreciate her benevolence.” He inclined his head, and I saw her brown eyes follow him. Then we left the hall with Hry. And thus we came to Egypt. But whether we were guests or prisoners remained to be seen.

THE BLACK LAND

T
hat night I slept on land, or rather tried to sleep. It had been so long since Byblos, since I slept without
Dolphin
’s rolling beneath me, that when I laid down on my pallet in the barracks near Tia and her child I could not sleep. It seemed that the floor moved oddly beneath me. When I opened my eyes it stopped, but as soon as I closed them again it moved. I realized what else was missing—Xandros’ quiet breath, sleeping or not sleeping as he brooded on the curse. I had not dared to leave him alone with the humor that had been on him.

Perhaps I was wakeful because he was alone now. I sat up.

But surely he would do nothing foolish. And he was sharing a room with half a dozen men. It wasn’t as though he could cut his wrists with no one noticing.

Ah, but surely Xandros would not try such a thing in a room with his men, some other part of me said. If he got up and went out they would merely think he went to the privies. No one would follow him.

I got up and went out into the cool Egyptian night. I crossed the courtyard, the white stones still warm from the day’s sun, walking toward the dock. The moon was high, making a path across the river. And I was not surprised to see Xandros there.

He turned when he heard my steps and waited. There was no knife in his hand or anywhere else I could see. He simply waited, as though we had arranged to meet.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked.

“No,” I said. “It feels strange to sleep on land.”

“For me too,” he said.

Downriver a little ways the docks of the palace were bright with torches, and several painted boats sat ready, their oarsmen visible in the light of the lamps on their prows. They waited, dicing and eating, for the great nobles to come out and be rowed home from some royal banquet or other. A little farther on, a swift scout ship was being prepared. It pushed off from the dock and started off downriver, back toward Tamiat, toward the sea.

“Did she believe us, do you think?” Xandros asked.

“I think so,” I said. “But I do not know. It’s hard to know the inflection and tenor of questions in a language I don’t know. If I spoke Khemet, I would know. Perhaps I had better learn.”

“You could learn Khemet,” he said.

“I could.” A thought half formed wormed its way to the surface, bursting into flower as a desire as though I had always wanted it. “I could learn to read.”

Xandros looked at me. “I believe you could,” he said slowly. “I hadn’t thought a woman could, but if any could it would be you.”

“It would,” I said.

We stood there in silence awhile longer, watching the moon rising white and clear. It cast our shadows behind us, two of a kind, dark against the pale stones.

I glanced back to the rooms where Neas slept. I wondered if he sprawled in sleep, abandoned as a child, or if his discipline held even there, the knowledge that he must behave as a prince. I did not know, and of course I never would.

“Ah,” said Xandros softly. “You too.”

I looked at him quickly. His face was still and thoughtful. “Yes,” I said. “And you?”

He gave me his own rueful sideways smile. “Always.”

“For how long?” I asked.

“Forever,” Xandros said. “Since we were boys together.”

“Has anything ever come of it?” I asked gently.

“He’s a prince and I’m a fisherman,” Xandros said. “Of course not. But he is my captain, and will be as long as I live.”

“He is a prince, but you are the captain of a warship, his most trusted captain,” I said carefully. “And you are his friend. Surely that makes a difference.”

“Do you think so?” Xandros said. “I don’t. We both know who we are.” He looked out over the river. “We should sleep.”

“We should.”

“It’s not so easy with Kos snoring,” he said. “Or Bai rolling around and mumbling.”

“I see that,” I said. The night was living and strange. Xandros had said enough, and he wanted to say no more.

“I was going to go sleep on
Dolphin,
” he said. “Do you want to come? If sleeping on land is difficult, I mean.”

“I could,” I said. We stepped over onto the familiar planks, went below to the bow cabin, quiet and tiny and empty. I rolled up in Tia’s good wool blanket, left here no doubt in the heat of the afternoon when a wool blanket seemed really unnecessary. Xandros lay down behind me. I could almost feel his warmth against my back, and I wanted to curl against him. I knew better, but I could not make myself move away. So I lay there, not quite touching him.

I heard him move, hesitantly. I almost felt his hand brush against my hair. Would he touch me? And what would I do if he did?

Xandros stilled. I listened as his breathing grew slow and steady, drifting away into sleep with the soft lapping of the river at the posts of the dock, the faint creak of the ship.

At least one question was answered this night, I thought. I knew that I wanted him to touch me, wanted to sleep against him, as near as breath. No man had ever desired me, no man that I would have. It seemed more than cruel to desire Xandros son of Markai above all other men.

I lay awake listening to him sleeping as long as I could.

W
E WAITED
and we waited. No word came from the palace. Neas paced up and down the dock, Jamarados beside him, counting days upon his fingers.

“Listen, Neas,” he said. “It’s at least four days from Tamiat to Ashkelon, and probably more with the wind dead foul. They’d have to go under oar the whole way, so a week or ten days more like. And then four days back to Tamiat, and four more up the Nile to Memphis. That’s if they found Neoptolemos in Ashkelon when they came, and we know he didn’t sail straight on our heels. They were waiting on more ships and on a break in the weather. So eighteen days from when we left Tamiat at best. That’s still two days to run. And probably we won’t hear anything for a week or two beyond that.”

Neas sighed. “I know.”

“We wait,” Jamarados said. “That’s all we can do.”

I could not. On the second day after that I went alone to the Temple of Thoth. It is part of the complex of the Great Temple, one small part of that vast section of buildings and courtyards. The temple here was as large as many cities.

I wandered through the public courtyards, trying to find my way. At last I saw the statue of ibis-headed Thoth, and thought I knew where I was. Two door wardens stood before the gates, staves in their hands. I went to them and tried to ask for Hry with gestures and his name. They shook their heads gravely at me.

A young man with a shaven head came to the gate, and they opened it for him while he began some conversation with them, presumably asking what I came for. “Hry, Hry,” I said.

He nodded and again made an incomprehensible response, then went inside. In a few minutes he returned with another man, this one wearing a white skirt and a leopard skin across his chest as Hry had. He spoke some words to me with Hry in it.

I gestured again, trying to indicate Hry’s height and manner. Surely they must know him, as old and respected as he was.

The young man said something to the elder that I did not understand, save one word, “Wilosat.”

“Wilosat?” I said. That must be Wilusan, either the person or the tongue. I patted my throat. “Wilosat?”

The elder priest spoke again and went back inside. In a moment Hry returned with him.

“Ah, the Maiden of Nepthys!” he said, a smile splitting his face. “I am pleased that you have sought me out!”

“I’m sorry, Hry,” I said, “if I have inconvenienced you. I wasn’t very good at making myself understood, though I asked for you by name.”

The old man laughed. “Hry is not my name, child. It’s my title. I suppose in your language the nearest words would be He Who Reads. I am one of the priests who have charge of the texts, both sacred and secular, and we are all addressed as Hry. My own personal name is He Who Walks with the Sunlight of Amon.” He took my arm. “Come, let us go in out of the sun. There is a shaded courtyard within that is a better place to talk.”

It was, in fact, a lovely place. Four date palms surrounded a rectangular pool. Lilies floated on the water. A stone bench stood at each end, where the shade of one palm would cover it in the morning and the shade of the other would do the same in the afternoon.

Hry sat down beside me and stretched out his legs with a sigh. “So why have you sought me out, Daughter of Wilusa?”

“I want to learn to speak Khemet,” I blurted out. “And I want to learn to read.”

He looked at me and all laughter was gone from his face. “Why do you want these things?”

“Because it is useful. Because it will help my prince. And because I want to know,” I said. “Is it forbidden?”

“No, surely not,” Hry said. “In the Black Land there are many women who read. And how could we forbid sailors to learn our language?” He looked at me keenly. “So that is the plunder you would have of Egypt.”

“We do not seek plunder, as Your Reverence knows,” I said.

Hry smiled. “Everyone who comes to Egypt is seeking some treasure. Everyone who sees our wealth wants some part of the beauty that is ours. Some, like this Neoptolemos you name, want to steal gold and ivory with his sword. Some, like your prince, I think, do not yet know what they seek. And you? You have come searching for the greatest treasure of all. What is it you really want, Maiden of Nepthys?”

I met his eyes, and answered as though he were She Who Had Been Pythia, the words tumbling from my lips. “I want to know everything. I want to know how the clouds move and why islands fall into the sea. I want to know how to plant almond trees and how to make children grow up straight and healthy. I want to know how princes should govern and why people love. I want to understand the stars in the heavens and all the words that were ever made. I want to remember every story that was ever told.”

“You want,” Hry said, “to be a god.”

“No.” I was startled. “No, I don’t mean...”

He nodded. “Yes, you do. You yearn after knowledge as our
ba
yearns after the sun, following it beyond the western hills into the world below. These are things we know in sleep or in death, that dream that is beyond awakening. Knowledge sits at the foot of the throne of Isis, where beside Her husband, Osiris, She judges the dead.”

“I am Death’s handmaiden,” I said. “I serve the Lady of the Dead.”

“Isis then,” he said. “Not Nepthys. Do you know Her story?”

“No,” I replied.

Hry shifted on the bench. “I will tell it to you then, you who want to know all the stories ever told. I will teach you Khemet. And reading. This is the House of Thoth, who is master of all learning. No one who desires knowledge as you do is ever turned away, for we reverence all learning, no matter its source, even if it comes clothed as the maiden of a foreign goddess in scraps of black linen.”

I looked down at my threadbare tunic and felt the color rise in my face. “Master Hry,” I said, “I would not come before you clothed in rags except for the dangers of our journey. It is not disrespect, only that I have nothing else.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Has the princess not sent clothing to you? Or anything else that you might need?”

“She has sent some food,” I said. “A generous amount of grain and beans. I think she is waiting to see if we are lying or not.”

“You are not lying,” Hry said. “I know Wilusa of old, prideful and bold. If you come in such desperate straits it is because you are in desperate peril. I believe Prince Aeneas.”

I felt tears start in my eyes. I had not realized how afraid I was that we were not believed.

“She is cautious, as befits a ruler. When word comes from Ashkelon, she will believe and you will be honored,” he said.

I did not say that in other lands caution was not much respected in a ruler. The People love above all else boldness, even above courage and honor. It is the fleet of foot, the daring, the impulsive we love—Prince Alexandros who carried off the Achaian queen and gave insult to her husband’s powerful family—this same prince who was Neas’ half uncle. We should rather go down in songs than live, I think. And perhaps that is exactly what we have done.

Egypt was not like that. Egypt was old. And caution was much valued, caution and deliberation. I feared that this time it would not serve them, not against the swift and the jealous.

I understood now why Neoptolemos wanted to raid Egypt. So much wealth so lightly defended is a tremendous temptation. But more than that, I could see why men’s hearts would be moved to jealousy, the envy of things they did not understand, of luxuries they had not imagined. I had seen the markets. Ordinary women shopped unveiled, their ears adorned with bronze posts washed with gold. Ordinary shops sold mirrors, scented oils, even the expensive myrrh resin that She Who Had Been Pythia had treasured most of all. The streets were clean and swept. The markets were full of fish, grain, fruit, and every good thing, and even the meanest seemed to have bread.

Hry was twenty years Anchises’ senior, and he was hearty and hale. He told me that in Egypt it was no great thing to live three score years, and that there were many men who lived a decade beyond that. We reckon a man old at forty, and Anchises was not fifty yet. Who would not want to seize the treasures of Egypt—long life, plentiful food, luxuries that we reserve for kings in the hands of common folk?