Soldier of Sidon (3 page)

MUSLAK WOKE ME
to go to the temple. He asked what I remembered, and I told him everything.

"That's good. You'll have forgotten most of it tomorrow, I'm afraid, but you may remember telling me now. Here, carry this."

It was a ram skin dyed red, very fine. "We'll have to give the goddess a nice present," Muslak explained, "and that can be sold for a good bit more than I'm willing to give."

The priest smiled when I held it up, and accepted it graciously; he is a tranquil man of middle height and middle years, with a shaven head. I took advantage of the moment to ask about Hathor, explaining that I was a stranger to his country and knew only that she was a great goddess here.

He nodded solemnly. "I would rather try to teach you, young man, than those who feel that they already know more than enough, as I must so often do in the House of Life. First let me assure you that no mortal ever knows enough, much less more than enough. You have seen her image?"

I shook my head.

"Then come with me. We will go into the forecourt."

It is a vast building, and the columns that support the lintel are larger than the houses of the poor and as tall as trees. Lamps flickered within, lonely dots of yellow light in the gloom. Beyond them, the broad doors of the inner temple were half closed. Through the opening I glimpsed the image of the goddess.

That, too, is huge, taller than any of the tall private houses we had seen. Its dress is rich, and it gleams with many gems. In form, it is a woman with the head of a cow.

"Hathor was wet nurse to Osiris," the priest explained. "We give animal heads to many of our gods to illustrate their honor and authority. You foreigners are frequently puzzled by it, wishing your gods to be like yourselves. Hathor is not like us, but a mighty divinity. It is Hathor who feeds the dead and governs love and the family. ..."

I heard no more. A horned woman taller than any man had stepped from behind the image of the goddess. As she strode toward us, it seemed that some other held a lamp behind her, so that her whole form was outlined with light, although her smiling face was shadowed. "You go into danger, foreign man," she told me. "Do you wish my help? You may have it at a price."

I wanted to kneel but found I could not. My body was still standing next to Muslak. "I need your help very much, Great Goddess, but I have nothing to give but my sword."

"You will have other uses for that. You are strong and a warrior, a man who has much love to give, and protection to give to those you love. Will you give those things, if I help you?"

"Very willingly," I said.

"That is well. I am going to send my kitten to you. You must love and safeguard her for my sake. Will you?"

"With my life, Great Goddess. Where is it?"

"Here. She will come to you and rub herself against you. When she does, you must accept her as your own."

The goddess was gone as though she had never been. The priest was saying, "There are seven Hathors along the river, and all are Hathor. When they meet, they decree. Whatever they decree must come to pass, no matter what gods may do or men may say."

I asked, "If they were to decree that I was to remember as other men do, would it happen?"

The priest nodded, his face more solemn than ever. "Whatever they decree must come to pass, as I told you."

"I've nothing to offer," I said; then recalling what the goddess herself had told me only a moment before, I added, "beyond love and protection."

"You have prayers to offer, young man. Those alone may be sufficient. As for love, it is hers. Therefore those who love have her favor. Not all that passes for love is true love, however. Do you understand?"

I nodded.

"As for protection, many families require it. Protect them, protect children particularly, and you will gain her favor. Rich gifts from the rich are very well, but the things the goddess most desires are things anyone can give."

Muslak asked, "Will you pray for Lewqys here, Holy Man?"

"I will."

"And for me and our ship?"

"I will do that also, Crimson Man."

Muslak cleared his throat. "That's good. Now I'd like to hire a singing girl to go to Mennufer with me. The satrap wants my help."

"In which case," the priest said carefully, "you must provide it."

"That's right." Muslak cleared his throat again. "Now
as I understand it, I can pay a flat fee and get a girl for the trip. Is that the way you do it here?"

The priest nodded. "For a long journey up the river, if you choose, and if you will return here at journey's end."

"Absolutely. I'll be going back to my own city after I've helped Prince Achaemenes."

"Then there is no difficulty. You must treat your singing girl well every day that she is in your company, you understand. Share your food and so on. You may beat her, but not beyond reason and not so as to endanger her life. She is entitled to leave you if your provisions for her are worse than those you provide for yourself."

Muslak nodded.

"When you return her, you will owe no more, since you must pay the full fee in advance. It is customary, however, to make some gift to her if you have been pleased."

"I will," Muslak said. "Something nice. I should have quite a bit of money when I've done what your satrap wants."

"He is not our satrap, Crimson Man." The priest frowned.

Muslak shrugged. "He's not ours either, the way you mean. But we've got to do what he says. So do you."

"You wish to hear the singing girls?"

Muslak nodded.

"First I must see the color of your gold."

Muslak shook a few coins from his burse into his hand and displayed them.

"One of those," the priest said, and pointed.

"A daric? That's too much!"

"You are accustomed to bargaining," the priest told him, "and will bargain much better than I. I will not bargain at all. One of those, and I must hold it first and pass on it."

"You yourself told us there are six other Hathors on the river." Muslak sounded indignant.

The priest smiled. "Go to any. You have my leave."

Muslak turned on his heel and walked away. I followed him very reluctantly, recalling what the goddess had said. When we had nearly reached the entrance to the forecourt, he stopped and turned back. "One daric? That's the price?"

The priest had not moved. "Unless you wish to give her something when you bring her back. That is voluntary."

"All right," Muslak said, "let's see them."

The priest held out his hand.

"After I've had a look at them."

The priest shook his head and continued to extend his hand.

"Suppose I don't like any of them?"

"Your money will be returned," the priest told Muslak. In this and in everything, the priest seemed neither angry nor eager; his eyes showed neither disgust nor fear. I admired him for it.

"All right," Muslak said at last.

The coin changed hands. Smiling, the priest left us and strode to a small gong near one wall. He struck it twice, and returned to us.

"What about you, Lewqys?" Muslak grinned at me. "Want a singing girl?"

I shook my head.

Soon we heard the murmur of voices and the shuffle of bare feet on the stone pavement. Five young women joined us. All were comely, with shapely legs and high breasts. All wore black wigs, as all but the poorest women do in this land. Two bore instruments.

The priest asked Muslak if he wished to hear them sing.

Muslak nodded and pointed.

"They will all sing," the priest said, "then you can
quickly choose her whose voice you think sweetest." He signaled to the women, and they sang at once. I could catch only a few words of their song, but their girlish voices were lively and merry. Those who held instruments played them with a will.

"Her," Muslak said.

"With the lute?"

He hesitated. "No, the one next to her."

The priest gestured. "Come, Neht-nefret."

She came forward smiling and took Muslak's hand.

"This trader is going to Mennufer on his own ship," the priest explained. "When his business there has been completed, he will return here. You will be his wife until you return."

Neht-nefret said softly, "I understand, Holy One." She is indeed tall for a woman, but no taller than some others.

The woman with the lute, shorter it might be by twice the width of my thumb, came forward too, taking my arm and rubbing her soft flank against mine.

"That trader does not wish a wife," the priest said severely.

"He's a soldier, not a trader like me," Muslak explained. "He's from Sidon." He turned to me. "Lewqys, you said you didn't want one."

"I want a handsome husband," the young woman with the lute declared, "and I would like to visit Mennufer, and all the grand places along the river." She feigned to be speaking to Muslak, but watched me slyly from the corners of her kohl-rimmed eyes. All the perfumes of a garden filled my nostrils.

The priest shook his head, a little sadly as it seemed to me. "You must go back, Myt-ser'eu."

I was trying to grasp the meaning of her name when I caught sight of the clasp on her headband. It was the face of a cat.

"She wants to go because I'm going," Neht-nefret told Muslak. "We're friends. You can have two of us, if you like. I won't mind."

The priest nodded. "You may, for another such coin as the first."

"But not this one," I said. "I want this one for myself. Give this holy man another daric, Muslak."

Myt-ser'eu giggled.

Muslak did, saying he owed me far more than that.

WE ARE WARM
, although not unpleasantly so. Myt-ser'eu fans me with a palm-frond fan. It cools her as well, or so she says, and waves away insects. Here I write, as Muslak has explained I must. He says a healer gave me this scroll and my cake of ink. My pen is a frayed reed. I dip it in the river and find it difficult to write as small as I wish.

Myt-ser'eu laughs at my letters and offers to show how her people write. Neht-nefret says she writes better. She will show me, not Myt-ser'eu. I will not let either have my pen, although this scroll is so long. I will write on both sides. Who can say where I can find another?

Muslak has sold all the hides in our hold. It took most of the morning. As soon as the money had been paid, we put out. This river is the Pre. Myt-ser'eu says there are three big rivers through this land, and many smaller ones. The Pre is the largest. She shows three fingers. This River Pre is the first. They come together farther south to make the Great River. After that, there is but one. She and Neht-nefret do not name it. It is the river. Muslak calls it the Great River, and says that Hellenes say Neilos or Aegyptos.

The fields to left and right are marvelously fertile. I do not believe I can ever have seen such fertile land. If I had, it would not surprise me as it does. Everything is green, dark and full of life. The crop this year will be bountiful. All these fields are as flat as my hand. Here and there, there are small hills. These have a house or two on them, or a village when they are larger, I suppose because they are less fertile than the fields. People who till the land cannot be rich, but these look well fed and seem busy and content. When we wave, they smile and wave in return.

The river is sea-blue or blue-green. It looks like good water, but Muslak says those who drink of it fall ill. Everyone drinks well water, wine, or something else in this land. I am going to ask the women about this.

THEY SAY WE
must not drink from the river at any season, and that it changes color to mark the changes of the year, now blue, now red, now green. We can wash ourselves in river water, but not mingle it with wine to drink. It will be bluer at Mennufer, Neht-nefret says. She has been there, though Myt-ser'eu has not.

Myt-ser'eu wished to know what I had been writing; I read it to her. The houses and villages are built on the hills so they will not be drowned when the river rises. Sometimes it rises very high, and then they are swept away and must be rebuilt. Neht-nefret says it is better to build on red land, but there is no red land here. I said I would make a raft of logs and live on that. She said wood was costly.

NOW I HAVE
seen a raft such as the people here build. It was of reeds. These would rot soon, or so I think. Being on this ship made me think of rowing. I believe I have
done that--my hands know the loom of a sweep. I asked Muslak whether we would row when the wind died.

"It won't. The Great River is the best for shipping in the whole world, Lewqys. A north wind blows you up it for most of the year. When you want to go back down, you can furl your sail and let the current do the work."

That is marvelous indeed if it is true. Since we spoke I have seen a big boat rowed. The white oars rose and fell with the chant, so that it seemed to fly. It was gay with paint, the property of a rich man who lounged in the stern, and flew very fast, like a warship. Who could object? Such things fill the bellies of the poor.

Our ship is not like it, though it is painted too. Ours is wider and has a tall mast and a big sail. There are ropes to brace the mast, and others to hold the corners of the sail, which is sewn of many strips. There can be no loom wide enough to weave such a wide sail. When I spoke of this ship to Myt-ser'eu, she explained that the satrap wants it, and us.

"Don't your people build good ships?"

"The best in the world." Myt-ser'eu looked proud. "Our ships are the best, and our sailors the best."

I glanced at Muslak and saw that he smiled. He does not agree, and it seems to me that he must be right. Little skill can be needed to navigate this river, if it is as he says.

"Then why doesn't the satrap use your ships and your sailors?" I asked Myt-ser'eu.

"He doesn't trust us. The Great King treated us terribly in my mother's time. Now he is not here and things are better, but he fears we will rebel against him. Our soldiers are very brave."

I asked Muslak what he thought of them.

"They are," he told me. "Many fought for the Great King, and they're tough fighters--better than my own
people are. We're sailors and traders. When we need soldiers, we hire mercenaries."

Looking at this green land, where barley shoots up wherever a seed is thrown, I can see that what Muslak said must be true. Only good fighters could hold it. If the people of Kemet did not make fine soldiers, it would be taken from them.

OUR SHIP PASSES
white temples as massive as mountains--mountains white as snow beneath this blinding sun, and sharp and pointed as any sword. Who would have thought human hands could make such things? Neht-nefret says the ancient kings are laid there. The people of Kemet built many temples, Muslak says, and very large ones, of which the mountain-temples are largest of all. If gods wished temples, would they not build them? They build mountains and plant forests instead, and that is what I would do were I a god.

IT IS MUCH
later. I am on the roof of our inn, where I write by lamplight. Myt-ser'eu is asleep, but I think I will wake her soon. I have read this scroll, and see that I must write. I will do this first, though I must hold the papyrus very near the lamp to see the letters.

We are staying here for the night, though most of the sailors will sleep on the ship. Muslak and Neht-nefret have a room on the floor below, but my river-wife and I sleep in this roof-bed. We are in a tent of nets, which seems very strange to me. The mosquitoes are evil here, she says, and her people sleep as high up as they can to escape them. The wind that blew us up the Great River blows the mosquitoes away, if they fly too high.

There was music and dancing tonight, which Neht-nefret
and Myt-ser'eu wished to join. Muslak agreed to pay, and all four of us had a fine time. Everyone who was not dancing or playing the flute sang and clapped. I did not know the songs, but I clapped with the rest, and quickly picked up the choruses. The young women danced and danced, which was very pretty. Myt-ser'eu was the loveliest, and Neht-nefret had the most jewelry. All eyes were on them, which they greatly enjoyed as anyone could see. Three men played double-flutes while two beat drums. The young women swayed, stepped this way and that, shook rattles, snapped their fingers, and kicked higher than their own heads while we sang and cheered.

We did not drink wine, but "beer." It is a wine made from barley. I cannot imagine how a juice can be pressed from barley, but that is what Myt-ser'eu says and Muslak confirms. Chaff floats upon it, there is a taint of leaven. It is warm with cardamom and too heavy and sweet for my taste, but I drank two bowls because everyone else drank. Sucking up the beer through a tube of thin clay leaves the chaff on the bottom when the bowl is empty. When the evening was over, we played a game in which we broke our clay tubes. He who holds the longest piece wins.

At last the young women tired and the young men danced. It was an easy dance, so I joined it. I was not the best dancer and the rest laughed at my errors, laughter without malice that even a child could bear. I will dance better next time. The flute-players and drummers did not join our dance. All the women sang, most clapped, and Myt-ser'eu played her lute. When everyone was tired we drank more beer and washed in the river. She wears an amulet that protects her from crocodiles.

In what I read today I wondered about the sails I saw on roofs. This inn has such sails, and Myt-ser'eu explained them. There are holes in the roof below for both.
One is open on the north-facing side and catches the north wind, directing it into the inn. The other lets the wind stream out again. The first is like the mouthpiece of a flute, the other like the little holes a player fingers. Our inn is the flute. When the wind blows well, as it does tonight, the rooms inside are cool and there are few mosquitoes because the doors and windows are shut. Myt-ser'eu says her people are the wisest in the world. I do not know that, but they are surely very clever.

I was a soldier in a city called Sidon. That is plain from what I read. I wish to go there and speak with those who may remember me. Muslak says that when we leave Kemet we will sail to his own city of Byblos, and that it is near Sidon. It will be easy, he says, for me to reach Sidon from there.

Now I will blow out the lamp and wake my river-wife. There are others sleeping on the roof. I do not think they could watch us even now. When the lamp is out, they will surely be unable to watch us through the nets, which are fine nets for small fish. These a man might see through in sunlight, but the other sleepers will not be able to watch even if they wake. I must remember to be quiet, and to hush Myt-ser'eu, who moans and trembles.