Soldier of Sidon (24 page)

NOTHING COULD BE
more useless than continuing this scroll, though I have been reading it ever since the baboon untied its cords. I sprang for it, catching it as the baboon dropped it. Its cords were tied again, and I felt the baboon had been a dream. Untying them, I began to read and saw that I had seen him before, and learned much else.

The man with my sword was Sabra's husband. I feel sure of it after reading what I just did.

We did not find Falcata in Naqa. Myt-ser'eu and I ate fried fish at a cookshop (very good) and tried the local beer. I thought it too sweet. She said it was like that we got in the south. When she had drunk all she could hold, we returned to the room we had rented earlier, I built a fire while she dozed, and we made love. I lay awake long after she was asleep, thinking how miserable I would be if I remained behind to search when she went north with the others. I do not know how I knew she would leave me and go with them, but I did, and found it bitter. Perhaps some god had revealed it to me. I resolved to reclaim Falcata before we reached the first cataract. No excuses
would do. Falcata was here, her new owner had no reason to hide her, and I would find her. At last I slept.

The ringing of her blade woke me. I rose and unbarred the door. A tall man, older than I, stood outside holding Falcata. I gaped at him. He rang her blade again, striking it with something in his hand, perhaps a coin. I tried to explain that I wished to buy her from him, speaking as Myt-ser'eu did. He vanished, but I caught sight of his head and shoulders over the stalled horses.

I ought to have followed him naked into the street, but I did not. I went back to get the burse I had been given on the ship, putting on the tunic I had bought earlier and taking up this case that holds my scroll, too, when the baboon signed that I must. I might have killed the baboon with my club, but it was easier and quicker to do as he wished.

Outside I searched the dark streets. Once, when I was about to give up, I saw him. I ran after him shouting and he vanished. I have not seen him since.

The sun rose. I set out for the place where Myt-ser'eu and I had stayed but became lost. I asked several people where it was. Perhaps they misdirected me or I misunderstood them. Certainly the streets were crooked, and I did not know what many of the places they spoke of were.

When I found the building in which we had slept at last, Myt-ser'eu was gone. I asked the old man who rented rooms, and he said she had left some time ago when another man came for her. I did not recognize this man from his description--a young foreigner, smaller than I.

The old man had my shield and spear, which he handed over readily to me. Myt-ser'eu had them, he said, and he had made her surrender them because he thought she might be stealing them. She had told him I was already on the ship, but he had said that I must come back and claim them myself if I wanted them. He told me all this at
length, speaking in the tongue used here. How angry she was, and how eager to be gone the man with her seemed.

I went to the docks. There was no ship, and Myt-ser'eu was not there. I asked a man fishing from a pier, and he said that the big foreign ship had sailed not long after sunrise. It was the
Gades
, he said. I cannot remember the name of our ship, but I believe the one he described must have been ours.

It will stop for the night at some city or town, I think, as it did at Naqa. With luck it may be delayed, and I have seen that ships going downriver move but slowly--the current carries them, but the wind is against them. They may be rowed, but rowing tires the crew; they row only enough to give the steering oar bite. If our ship ties up at a place on the other side of the river, I can pay someone to row me across.

I have walked and even run today, but that was foolish. Tomorrow I will buy a small boat. Let it carry my spear and shield, and my club. I will row hard, and not tire.

I FEEL WEAK
and ill, hot at times and chilled at others, so that I huddle near this fire, which does not warm me. He makes me write this.

IT IS NEARLY
noon. I am stronger, but not strong. Last night I was terribly sick, shaking when I was not burning with fever. Perhaps I only dreamed of the woman who burned, yet I hope not. Is there any use in writing of such things? The baboon would say there was, I know. He would make his meaning clear by signs.

Which is what I do here with my slip of frayed reed.

I feel I may die. If I do, the rain will come, my scroll will fall to bits, and no one will ever read the record of so
many days of my life, days of interest to no one but myself in any event. If I do not die, I will find a way to protect it from the weather and deposit it in a safe place. There is only a single sheet left. Then the stick. The Hellenes have a name for that final sheet, I know. I wish I could recall it.

My fire is dying amid greasy ashes, but I no longer require it. The sun is high and the land is warm. I will rise and walk until I find a place where they will feed me. Then I may write more.

THESE PEOPLE FOUND
me on the road. They had many questions, of which I could answer only a few. They are the Medjay, they say, the Lion People. We talked of horses, I thinking that I might buy a horse if the price was not too high. They asked whether I could ride. Feeling it to be true, I said I could, which surprised them. They think me a man of Kemet, and say few of us can ride. They invited me to their camp, where I am now, to see more horses. I agreed, and walked beside them as they rode. None had been to Kemet, but they talked of going there, where the satrap might hire them as he has others of their nation.

They warned me of the Nehasyu, the Men of Kush, with tales of their dishonesty and cruelty. Kush is the nation I call Nubia, it seems.

Here we looked at horses, and they shared their food with me. They had fresh beef and cheese. It has been a long time, I think, since I have eaten either. They measure their wealth in cattle and horses.

THEIR CHIEF HAS
come. He is older than my new friends, and has been to Kemet and many other places. He fought, he says, for the Great King. When I could not
answer his questions, I explained that I forget and showed him this. He said I had been touched by a god, and that I am a holy man.

I said, "If I have been touched by a god, it was only to curse me."

He nodded. "All who are touched by gods are holy."

"I would rather remember, as other men do."

"There are many things it is better to forget." He laughed. "Women!"

"There is a woman I must write of here before I forget her," I told him.

"Tell me," he said, "if you forget I will tell you."

I agreed. "Last night I camped alone. I have no cloak to sleep in, but I made a little fire and lay down."

He nodded. "I have often done the same."

"A woman came to my fire, a lovely woman with bracelets, a fine necklace, many rings. She said she was my wife, that she loved me and would always care for me and serve me. I was cold and asked her to warm me, but she said she could not do that."

"She was a ghost," the Medjay chief declared. "I have met many, and there is no warmth in them."

I shrugged. "She begged me to accept her, to love and cherish her. I said I would, and we kissed. When we parted, there was a man behind her, tall and angry."

The chief laughed aloud. "Her husband. I have been caught like that too."

"I agree, but he did not say he was. He did not speak at all. He only advanced toward her, scowling. She argued with him, retreating step by step, and at last drew a crooked knife. By then she stood very near the fire, and I saw that her back was melting as ice does, running like water into my fire, which leaped in triumph."

"This is a good story. Go on!"

"They spoke more, and he pushed her into the fire. For a
moment nothing happened. I tried to stand, steadying myself with my spear. It was hard because I was so ill. As I stood, my little fire burst into a ball of flame that blinded me and singed my hair. When I could see again, both were gone."

The Medjay chief nodded. "Your face has been burned on one side, I see. Your hair is singed, as you say."

"I thought it was a dream," I told him. "Was it?"

He sighed. "You have been touched by a god."

"I looked in the ashes," I told him, "and found these." I showed him two of her bracelets. "Do you like them? I'll give both to you for a good horse. Not just any horse, a good one."

He returned them to me. "I will show you a wonderful horse tomorrow," he promised, "a horse you may have as my gift, if you can ride him."

I HAVE NOT
yet caught the stallion the Medjay chief showed me as the sun rose; but I have come to know the marks of his hooves, and will track him again in the morning. He is bigger than most, and as brown as a chestnut. There is a light in his eyes. If some god were to transform one of the Medjay warriors, he would be as this stallion is, I think.

He looks at me in fear, and I at him in desire. If he were to seek to master me, I would look at him as he does at me, and he at me as I do at him. Or so I believe. What is the life of a horse but slavery? I would treat him well--if I could. As I am, I cannot even treat myself well.

There is gold in the bag at my belt, but it buys no food here. He crops the fresh green grass. Which of us will tire first?

WHEN I UNROLLED
this to read what I had written last night, there was a curved pin of bright gold in it. It melted as I held it in my hand, and was gone. Then I thought the sun had brought a waking dream. It seemed to me that a great lioness paced beside me, and afterward that a tree-tall woman walked there. When I turned to look, there was no one.

Now I write, though there is so little space left. She led me to her temple. There was an antelope there, dead upon her altar, a large one and very fine.

I drank from her spring, cut flesh from the antelope's flank, and cooked it over a fire of brown grass and dried dung. She is Mehit; she sat with me and shared my food. She laughed at me, and her laugh was forgotten gold shaken in a cup. "Can you who caught me not catch a stallion?" She told me that I would never catch him, but that he would catch me.

I RODE TODAY
, north because I did not know in which way to go and it seemed best. A lively boy driving cattle said that in the city men would fill my hands with gold for my horse. I told him about the lions, and how my horse Ater had come to me for protection.

"Does that name mean something?" he asked.

"Darkness, gloom, ill luck."

"He's not! He's beautiful!"

"He is," I said, "and I am his ill luck."

The city, the boy said, is on a river island. If my own luck is as bad as Ater's, the ship will have passed it already. But where there is a city there are many men, and one may have the blade the river god returned to me.

I WONDER WHERE
I got the bridle I have taken from Ater? Did I write of that here? I tied him by the reins, but a moment ago I set him free. Beasts prowl the night--lions and worse. I would rather he escape me than that he fall to such a beast.