Soldier of Sidon (22 page)

I gave my spear and shield to Utundu, and picked up my slave. He died in my arms. I told the king we must bury him. He had belonged to me, and I owed him that and more. The king agreed.

My wives, my sons, my daughter, and our servant girl went with me into the bush. In the bed of the dry stream, in a place of many stones, we dug a grave with spears; but when we would have laid him in it, he was gone. I said that some animal must have carried the body away while we worked. The women and girls said it could not be. They had been sitting beside it a moment before, talking quietly among themselves and waving off the flies.

Perhaps they slept.

Or it may be that Vinjari took it, and they would not tell me. However that may be, he has gone off into the
bush. Utundu and I tracked him a long way, but lost the trail at last.

NOW I MUST
write again. I have built up the fire, and there will be light enough for a time. I polished the new shield the goddess gave me while the others slept, rubbing it with fine sand to make it bright. Soon it was so clear in the place I rubbed that I could see the leaping flames behind me reflected there.

They vanished, and in their place I saw a self younger than I am whose head was wrapped in bloodstained bandages. This self threw his sword into the river, offering a prayer to the river god. The river god tempered it, heating it in flickering flames that rose from his waters and quenching it in them. At length he returned it, and nothing save my own shadow and the flickering flames showed in the bright metal over which I had labored.

But I remembered! I remember even now. Not just seeing it in the metal, but the whole event: How my head ached that day, and how weak I was. How I had prayed for the black man with me--he was the king, I know, for his face was the same.

He was my only friend, and the river god the only god I knew. I cast my sword into the river when I had asked the river god to bless him. The river god showed it to his daughters, beautiful young girls with skin as white as his, and his skin was as white as foam. When they had seen it and tried to take it from him, he returned it to me.

"Not wood, nor bronze, nor iron shall stand against her, and she will not fail you until you fail her."

I have failed her now, but I will redeem my failure. Or walk alone and sorrowing, as this says my son did, into the bush to die.

TOMORROW WE WILL
go down the Great River. Last night I talked long with the king. I spoke as Hellenes do, he as his people do. I understand that speech better than I speak it.

He told me many things that had taken place while we were together in Hellas. They are fading from my mind even as I write. It may be well that they do, because there are many I cannot believe or may have misunderstood.

I told him of casting Falcata into the river, and he said I had told him of it before, long ago. I said that I must find her and hold her again, or die in the attempt. I had spoken of Falcata to my senior wife. (Myt-ser'eu is her name, and she is the smaller of the two.) She told me how I had lost it when I fought the men of Nubia. It must surely be somewhere in Nubia now, I told the king, for no soldier would cast aside such a weapon. I was going there to find it, I said; and I asked in the light of our friendship that he see that my wives and children did not want while I was away. He said he would, but soon said that he himself would go with me. He will bring warriors and gold, for it may be that we will have to buy back Falcata from her
new owner. He will bring the queen as well; and when I have regained Falcata, we will journey north into Riverland and from there to her city. Unguja will govern for the king in his absence. We spoke with him, and he swore that he would see that my wives and children are well treated and have good food.

AS SOON AS
I could, I told Myt-ser'eu much of what the king and I had said. I do not recall it now--only the casting my sword into the river of Hellas--but when we spoke I did, and no doubt some are written here. She raged and wept and raged again. I swore, she said, that I would return her to her native city. She will have no gift from me, for I have become poor, her jewelry is gone, and now I intend to break my oath. She would take her own life--this she said again and again.

Then that she would take mine (though I do not fear her).

After that, that she would do both.

Weeping she spoke of all that we have been through together, of her faithful service and of the love she gave me without stinting.

I explained that I had sensed all those things, though I could not recall the events; and I told her what is very true--that she is first in my heart. Regaining Falcata may be dangerous indeed. The men she told me of, who had taken Falcata from me and enslaved us, were my foes. I might have to fight them again, and this time they might kill me.

She made me read the first part of this scroll, saying I would find my promise there. I read it. If I made such a promise, I did not record it. Yet her goddess had appeared to me, I had promised my protection, and the return of the singing girls was certainly implied in what the
priest and the man with me had said. Further, it was implied that I would make Myt-ser'eu a suitable gift when we parted. As she said, I have none to give.

We spoke of this, and I read to her from this scroll, turning its speech into hers as I read. She asked again and again whether I had really spoken with her goddess. All that I could do was repeat that I did not know, that it was written as I had said.

"I have seen a god, however," I told her. "I saw the river god, and tried to give him my sword. He gave it back to me." I quoted his words to her again.

"Are you sure he didn't give me to you then?"

I shook my head. "Your own goddess gave you to me. That's what this says."

"You can't protect me if you're not here."

"I can leave you in good hands," I said, "instead of taking you into danger."

"That ugly old man's? Listen, I know women, which is more than you do. He and Cheche will have made a slave of me before you're out of sight."

"Have I ever beaten you?"

She shook her head. "I don't want to talk about that."

"Have I?"

"Yes!"

"Good. I'm glad to learn it. I can beat you whenever it's necessary. The priest said that. Not enough to put your life in danger, but a good beating. If you won't do as I say, I'll beat you."

"Is that the safety you want to provide for me? A beating? I'd rather have danger, with a chance of getting home."

There we left it, for we could not agree. I will go, and go without her. She may rage, but I will be far away. Perhaps I will leave the king and queen and return for her when I have regained Falcata, though I will have forgotten her long before that time, I know.

A SHIP HAS
come, with many on board who say they are our friends. No doubt it is true of some. Myt-ser'eu's maidservant came to tell her of it, and she ran to the riverbank shouting. I ran after her, and the men on the ship, seeing us, anchored and came to shore in a boat. Myt-ser'eu has been talking ever since. I have heard everything with interest, but I cannot write all that here.

There is a woman on the ship who blows kisses to us, whom Myt-ser'eu says is her dearest friend. Of the men who came in the boat, I now know these: The small man, oldest of all, bearded, bald, and richly but simply dressed, is Noble Qanju. He commands the rests, and is of Parsa. The young man who helps him is of Kemet, like my wife. He is Holy Thotmaktef. The older man, not large but well muscled, is Captain Muslak. From what my wife had me read, I knew that it was he who went to the temple with me. We spoke of that. He says we are old friends, but I do not think I have known him as long as I have known the king.

The tall young man, Thotmaktef's friend, is Kames. He owes me much, he says, and will repay when he returns to his city.

The scholar Sahuset is tallest, lean, and older than I. The youngest is the prince. It is thought (Qanju says) that the priests will choose him if the Nubian king dies; thus the Nubian king hid him. We are not to speak of him.

Qanju has made gifts to King Seven Lions, and the king gifts to Qanju. There will be a feast.

When I learned that he, Thotmaktef, and Sahuset were all learned men, I asked them about the other scroll. All wished to see it, and Sahuset declared that I had promised long ago to give it to him.

I asked whether I had promised more than that, and he
shook his head. I said that in that case I would give it to him gladly.

"You must show it to me first, Lucius," Qanju said. He says also that
Lucius
is my true name. The younger man agreed with him. Sahuset agreed to let Qanju look at the scroll, although with great reluctance.

I took it out, explaining that I could not find the knot to loose its cords.

Thotmaktef had a small knife, but dropped it each time he picked it up.

"The cords should not be cut," Qanju said. He took the scroll (not this one) from me, and at his touch the cords fell away. They were not cords at all, but snakes, small and slender black snakes that crawled away as swiftly as a deer might run, so that I did not see where they fled. Qanju opened the scroll, shook his head, and handed it to Sahuset.

Thotmaktef said, "Is it the character of my ancient nation? I will read it for you if you wish, Noble Qanju."

"It is not for you to read," Qanju told him.

Sahuset took black cords from the earth on which we sat and bound the scroll. "Neither is it for me to read at this time and in this place," he said, "but the scroll is mine. Do we agree upon that?"

Qanju nodded. Thotmaktef nodded too, though I saw that he did not wish to.

Sahuset said, "Latro?" (It is how my wife speaks to me.)

"You say I promised it to you," I said. "I give it to you now and am quit of my promise."

"Agreed." Sahuset put the scroll into his robe.

My wife says these people will take her home.

I HAVE SPOKEN
again with Qanju. Our company was sent south by the satrap, and instructed to explore the river as far as possible. In Nubia, Qanju learned that Kames was
held by the king. I and others freed him, but Myt-ser'eu and I were taken, and Qanju and the rest thought us dead.

There is a place where the river divides into streams called Blue and White. Our ship sailed the Blue as far as it could go, and Qanju and a certain woman questioned the men of the highlands as to its origin.

After that, our ship turned about, rowed back to the rivers' parting, and sailed up this river until it could sail no farther, seeing many strange sights and speaking with many strange peoples. Now it is returning to the satrap.

THE SHIP I
wrote of has been pulled on shore. We have had a great feast, with much dancing and many good things to eat and drink. All sleep. I sit by the fire to think, knowing I ate too much, and that if I had drunk as much pombe as Myt-ser'eu I would not think at all.

She is very happy. Qanju will make a gift to her for my sake when we part, and he has much gold. The king will make her a gift, too, when he and I leave the ship. The ship will return her to her home, though the journey is long. I should be as happy as she, but am not. How can a man be happy, knowing he must part from his wives and children?

Nor can I be happy until I regain Falcata. She was at my side before Myt-ser'eu, I know. I cannot recall Myt-ser'eu beside the river. If we were together then, I would surely have thought of her.

I HAD BELIEVED
myself the only person awake. There is another, a woman with a great cat. They do not come near me, but search among the sleepers. When I think they have gone for good, they return.

The queen came to me, walking badly. She wished to
tell someone how happy she was, talked much of it, and lifted her skirt to show what I might have if I wished it. I did not wish it, and returned her to the palace, making her lie beside the king. No good can come of such things.

Is it she the tall woman and her cat seek? They came near while we spoke. Her cat is black, not spotted, though I believed such cats spotted. I must ask someone about this.

I WOKE EARLY
on this ship. Only my sentry and one woman were awake. The sentry saluted me, and I told him he might sleep if he could; I would take the rest of his watch.

The woman is Sahuset's wife. He is a wise man of Riverland. I explained that I had been trying to recall how I came here. She said I forget more quickly than most men, though all forget in time, and in time everything is forgotten. She showed me the leather case that holds this, and said it held my memory. I have read enough now to know that she spoke the truth.

I told her all that I remember--my mother and father, our house and our fields, and casting my sword Falcata into a river whose god restored it to me.

She told me who she was, and offered to point out all the persons of importance who slept on the ship. Most, she said, were the king's warriors (men she does not know), sailors of no importance, and my soldiers, whom she said were of still less importance. I protested that since they were mine, as I knew they were, they were important to me; but she does not know their names.

She showed me the queen, who slept in a little tent on deck with the king. She must have the queen's blood to live, she said. The queen stirred at our words, and we
went away. She showed me her husband, too, and my wife.

"I will be your wife when she has gone," she said, "and a better wife than she."

I asked whether my wife would leave me, and she said she would, very soon.

"It is nearly sunrise," she said, "and I must go to bed. Will you do me a service, Latro? A small favor for someone who fought the Nubians with you?"

I said I would if I could.

"You can, and very easily. Did you see the amulet your wife wears? The bull's head? I want you to cut the cord and drop the amulet into the water. Great good will come to you if you do this."

I said I would never do such a thing without my wife's permission.

"Then gain it, and do it."

I nodded, but promised nothing. She went below--her bed is in the hold.

My weapons lie where I slept. I have a spear, a club, and a small shield in need of polishing. I must tell one of my soldiers to do that when they wake.

The sun is above the trees. A few stir, but most still sleep. The trees near the river are tall and thick, the home of many bright birds who call among the topmost branches. Beautiful white wading birds are everywhere, and small birds hop in and out of the mouths of crocodiles. This is a lovely land and a terrible land, but it is not my land.