Soldier of Sidon (20 page)

Nor do I know the name of the man who fought me. I felt no enmity toward him, but he would have killed me if he could. We fought outside the village, in a pasture in which the villagers keep a few wild-looking cattle. The king called us before him and had us turn to face each other. We were five steps apart, perhaps. We were to fight, he said, when he clapped his hands. His warriors would keep the dead man's other relatives from interfering.

When he clapped I flung my club at my foe's face. He jerked his head away, and I think brought up his big shield. I cannot be certain of that, only that I dived at his legs and brought him down. He was a strong man, but not a good wrestler. I stabbed him with the knife he wore, and the fight was over very quickly.

I had my little dagger, too, but did not use it.

There was a small man in the crowd who seemed familiar, an older man than I. His face is brown, like Myt-ser'eu's. He says he is my slave, and she says this too. I offered to free him--am I not myself a free man, though she says I was the king's slave once? He would not take his freedom, saying that he wishes only to free me. He was on a ship, he says, but dove from it when he heard my voice. He swam to the wrong bank of the river, and thus it was some time before he found this village. I must ask Myt-ser'eu more about this man, and she must teach Cheche to remember for me as she does.

I have said I am free; but surely no man is free who does not know how he came to be so.

DRY AND WET
together. That is how I would describe this beautiful country. There are steaming marshes near the river, vast fields of reeds. Cheche says these are full of crocodiles, but that no crocodile inflicted the wounds she has just re-wrapped for me. There are river-horses in the river itself, some very large, black where they are wet and gray where the sun has dried them. Our king's warriors are eager to hunt them, and our king has promised such a hunt when we halt tonight. The river-horses will come out of the water to crop grass when the sun is low, and are best hunted at that time. The king has lions trained for the hunt, but they are far from us and we must do without them.

Beyond the marshes there are many trees. Most are not large, and lush grass sprouts between them. Antelope of many kinds are plentiful, some having long horns. (There are wild goats, too, some with horns of enormous length.) One of the smaller kinds seems to stay near the water. I see them running on the riverbank as I write, and wading in the river. No doubt many are killed by crocodiles; they may be the crocodiles' chief food. If a man so much as lifts his spear, they whistle and flee.

My wives are in this boat with me, Cheche's children in the one that follows ours, watched by my slave. Not long ago she pointed with her chin to show me a wild dog of the kind that killed their father. It was spotted and dotted with black and seemed crippled, its hind legs too short; but it trotted easily and swiftly, keeping pace with our boat until it took some scent and turned aside. I thought it ugly, but its shoulders seemed strong indeed. Few dogs, I think, would fight as well.

Such a wild dog bit Cheche's first husband while he slept, she says. This was said with her hands as well as her mouth, since neither Myt-ser'eu nor I understand much of her speech. We speak as the people of Kemet do, and she as the king speaks. Some words are the same, I think, but not many. In time, we will learn her speech, and she ours. I know a few words already.

There are many lions--
simba
--here, she says. Also many leopards--
chui.
With so much game that must surely be true.

WE HAVE STOPPED
at a place that will be good for river-horses, building our fires some distance inland so as not to alarm them. While we waited for them to come out of the water, I spoke with my slave. His name is Uraeus. We have been together a long time, he says, but were separated when I went ashore to fight, taking Myt-ser'eu with me. I said I could not believe that I would take her if I were going to fight, but he swears I did. I have thought on this. Surely I did not trust her to be faithful, and here there are many strong men with whom she might betray me. The king has eunuchs to watch the queen; they are never far from her.

My sons wished to hunt with us, flourishing their
spears. We made them stay with their mother. They are Vinjari and Utundu, and will be tall and strong soon.

We crept upwind with our spears, looking for a big bull. This kind of hunting is dangerous, as I had been told and soon learned for myself. One must keep the wind in one's face, stay down, and move quietly. I think I might have said that I could hunt as quietly as any other man, but it is not true. I know our king and the warriors with him stalked more quietly than I, though I did my best.

We had agreed that the king would stand first and throw his spear. As soon as he did, we would stand and throw too, at the same animal. We were very near a big bull. I waited for the king to throw, wondering what was wrong. When he stood, I saw he had crept very near. The river-horse roared, a terrible sound! We rose as one, and our spears rained upon it.

Then everyone was shouting and scattering. A second river-horse, one farther inland that we had failed to see, was charging toward us, not actually charging us but dashing back to the river. No one, seeing these huge creatures for the first time, would believe how swift they are. I think I might have been trampled if our king had not pulled me out of its path. Its side brushed me, and I felt that I had been struck; a bull river-horse must outweigh three or four ordinary horses.

The river-horse that so many spears had pierced reached water, but it soon died there and floated to the surface. By then we had gotten torches from the camp. My sons and I went out in a boat with a man of this place and tied a line to its foot. Now we have feasted. The skin has been awarded to men who wish to make shields of it. Myt-ser'eu says I had a shield; our king did not like it, so I left it behind when we left Cheche's village. I asked for a piece of hide with which to make myself a new shield.
He would not give me one, saying I would have another soon, one chosen for me by a god. I wish I knew more of this, but he will not speak further.

WE ARE STAYING
in the king's city, Mji Mkubwa. There are hundreds of huts, all on stout poles. I asked Unguja about this. He says that the river floods once a year, so that all this level land is under water. I said it must be inconvenient. He laughed. Everyone has a boat, the water sweeps the away all filth, and the people of the city can fish out of their doors.

Myt-ser'eu was with us when we spoke. She says that this flood occurs in Kemet, too. It is then that great blocks of stone are taken up from the quarries, set upon rafts of countless reeds, and floated to the sites at which tombs, temples, and fortresses are being built. The floodwater soaks their fields, too, and leaves a gift of rich black mud. There is a river god, a very great god. He is blue, and friendly to men. Each year the flood is decreed by a goddess. We asked Unguja whether these gods were worshipped here, but he would tell us nothing, only saying that we must speak of other things.

The king's people have no temples. They go to sacred places immemorially old and worship there. That seemed very strange to both Myt-ser'eu and me, but the more I think on it the wiser I think it. Temples are like the images they contain, things made by men. Gods shape trees and caves, and smile down on us when we stand upon the tops of hills.

Myt-ser'eu says that Alala's people worship as the king's people do. I asked her about this Alala and her people, but she would tell me only a little, saying I had written about them and should read what I wrote. After that, I read much in this scroll, finding it interesting indeed.

When my eyes were sore, I returned to Unguja to ask whether he knew of a cure for men like me, who forget very quickly. He said only that I had been blessed, and that he longs to forget all he knows and be a child again. He has been promised this, and expects it in a few years; still, I wish to be as other men.

I HAVE BEEN
talking with Binti--talking with my hands as much as my mouth. She is my youngest, and a brave girl who will not permit her brothers to bully her. I applauded her, teaching her that it is better to fight and lose than not to fight. No one bullies anyone who fights and fights hard, although he is defeated. Such a person must be respected, and is. She said that women did not fight men--that they do not have to. If a man bullies a woman, all the women turn against him. Then the other men mock him because he sleeps alone. Women fight other women, however. She says that Cheche has fought others often, and won. I wondered then whether she would fight Myt-ser'eu. She is larger and stronger.

Binti said that Cheche would not, because Myt-ser'eu is my senior wife. I had known that, having read of her many times in this scroll; but I had not known Cheche would respect it. Two lesser wives may fight for precedence, Binti says, but more often it is the wives of different men who fight. Quarrels between lesser wives are judged by the senior wife.

Binti wanted to know which I would lie with tonight. I said I would lie with the wife who wished me to do so. She predicted that both would wish it. I told her I would never lie with her, but that I would protect her as well as I could. She sat close after that, and smiled so as to melt the hardest heart. Can a man who has no daughter be happy? It seems to me it must be difficult.

The king has many daughters and many sons, too. His palace is ten times larger than the other huts, a whole series of huts in which one opens into another. His children play everywhere in it, laughing and shouting.

ANOTHER DAY. NOW
the sun is setting, and the wind grows cool. I do not know how many days have passed since the last on which I wrote, only that my ink was dry and hard.

Myt-ser'eu and I have been speaking with the queen. She told us how much she wishes to return to her native city, if only for half a year. She made us promise to help her in this. Myt-ser'eu sounded much the same. She is from a place called Sais, and begged me to return her there. She had jewelry and money, she says, and gained more on the voyage south; but she lost everything when we were enslaved. She does not understand how I kept the gold beetle. She wept, and embraced the queen, and swore that she would rather be penniless in Sais than a queen here. I had to translate all this for the queen, which I did badly.

Earlier I attended the king's court. I do not speak his tongue well, and I often found it hard to understand what was being said. Many of these cases concerned witchcraft. One accuses another of being a witch and laying a curse. The accused denies it. In each case the king asked again and again how the accuser knew that the person he had brought to court was the witch, but he seldom got a satisfactory answer.

A young girl came. She testified that she was oppressed by a demon, accusing no one of having cursed her, only asking that the king order the demon to quit her. He did, and the demon laughed and mocked him.

It angered me. I came forward and asked the king's
permission to attack it. I speak the tongue these people use only a little, but I managed to make my meaning clear, and the king consented.

I struck at the demon, but it dodged the blow and closed with me, clawing me as it had clawed the girl. Many people screamed and ran. It was smooth and oily, but I jammed my thumb into the yellow flame that was its only eye and bent it across my knee. There was too much noise for me to hear its spine snap, but I felt it. At once it was gone.

The king had left his throne. There was fear in his face, but his spear was ready. Most of the others had fled, knocking down children and old people. We spoke as friends, the king and I, when we had helped the old to rise and comforted the children. There is a greater king here whom his people never see, a kind old man fond of music. I touched him once, the king said, then everyone saw him. So it was with the demon. When it closed with me, all could see it. This is very strange. I wish Myt-ser'eu had been with me. She might explain more.

The girl the demon clawed will not leave me. When I tell her she must go home to her mother, she insists she has none. She is afraid her demon will return to her, but that will pass. Myt-ser'eu calls it a xu, though Myt-ser'eu did not see it.

MY SENIOR WIFE
says I must write on this scroll every day, and read it, too. Otherwise I forget. The light is fading, and I know it is not good to write by firelight. I will write first, telling all I know, and read much afterward while a little light remains.

There are five boats. The first is the king's, with twenty-six warriors, the queen, and others. The second is Unguja's, with fourteen warriors, some women, and many
children. The third is mine, with twenty warriors, myself, my chief wife, my second wife, and our warriors' women. The fourth is my children's, with ten or twelve warriors, my servant, my chief wife's maidservant, and more women as well as many children. The fifth is the boat of the king's servants, with sixteen warriors and their women, the servants, and our supplies. It is larger than the king's, but is the slowest.

Our boats are hollowed from logs, which seems strange to me. The tree from which the king's was made must have been very large. Fires are laid on the log and carefully tended. When they go out, the charred wood beneath them is chipped away. Making a good boat takes great skill and many days of careful work. Boats are made of reeds as well. These can be built quickly and easily, but soon rot.

My chief wife's maidservant has brought me a gourd of good water. She is a girl older than my daughter. Some beast has clawed her, leaving scars like mine on her arms and back. These are healing, I think. I asked what beast it was. She does not know its name, but says I killed it. Her own is Mtoto.

I WROTE THAT
I would not write by firelight. So much for my wisdom! There is a madman laughing outside our camp. I asked Mvita whether we should not go out and drive him away. He said that there are many dangerous animals here and many demons. They will try all sorts of tricks to lure us away from the fires, and that we must not go.

THE WOMEN ARE
breaking camp and will not let me help them. I will write of what I saw last night. A panther
as large as a lion prowled around our camp. I woke and saw this. At times it came very near the fires. It was blacker than the night and very beautiful, seeming to flow from one place to another, but looked as dangerous as a chariot with blades. I held my spear, which I had driven into the ground near my head before I slept. Our sentries never turned their eyes toward it. If it was before a sentry, he looked to one side, or down, or up at the moon, or shut his eyes. This I saw more than once. It seems strange to me, and I wish to set it down. Perhaps it was a dream.