Soldier of Sidon (4 page)

I HAVE WATCHED
the boat of a god bring the sun, a great and wonderful sight I must set down here so that it shall never be forgotten. He steered the boat that held it. With him were a baboon and a lovely woman who wore a plume in her hair. His head was that of a falcon. When the sun cleared the horizon they were gone, and their boat with them. Perhaps the falcon-god flew away. Perhaps it was only that they and their boat could no longer be seen in the glare of the sun. I would like to ask the woman who slept with me about them, but feel I should tell no one. Some things are too wonderful to be spoken of.

We are in a ship at anchor. I remember lifting the anchor with another man. We threw it over the side, careful not to be caught in its cable. The woman had made a place where she and I could sleep, in the stern too near the captain and another woman. "Come to my bed," she said, and motioned to me in a way I found irresistible. We lay upon a folded sail and covered ourselves snugly with the sailcloth, for the wind grew cool when the sun was gone. She whispered of love, and we kissed many times.
I caressed her and she me, I wondering always whether the others slept; at last I heard them snore. When we were exhausted and ready for sleep, the stars above us shone brighter than any jewels. They seemed close enough to touch, tracing men and strange beasts.

I woke early, sore from sleeping on the folded sail. I stretched and scratched, and looked for something better than river water to drink, but found nothing. Soon, I thought, I would return to the sleeping woman and embrace her again. The east grew bright--I saw the prow of the boat that bears the sun, and watched. Then I saw the falcon-headed man with his steering oar, and the other gods, and knew that I must write of them, as I have.

MYT-SER'EU AND I
lounge in the shade. No one works now but the steersman, who must keep our ship turned so that our sail catches the wind. Our sailors talk, argue, lay bets, and wrestle for sport. I could wet my pen with sweat, but it leaves a black mark on my chest.

I have had my head shaved, and that is why I write. Neht-nefret saw me scratching and examined it. I had lice--she showed me several. Myt-ser'eu says I got them in an inn, but I do not recall an inn. She cut my hair as short as she could, and Neht-nefret oiled it and shaved it with her razor. The two of them made a hundred jokes at my expense and laughed merrily, but I could tell they were dismayed by the scar they found there. They guided my fingers to it.

Neht-nefret and Myt-ser'eu shave each other's heads, Neht-nefret said, and said too that I had seen them do it but that I can remember nothing. That is not quite true, yet true enough to sadden me. They wear wigs.

Between kisses, Myt-ser'eu is sewing a headcloth for me such as the men of her people wear. (I know that this
is so because I saw one on the riverbank not long ago.) It is simple sewing, a circle large enough for my head at one end, another a little larger at the other.

MY HEADCLOTH IS
finished. It protects my shaven head and my neck and ears from the sun. Muslak laughs and says no one will know I am foreign. Neht-nefret insists we do not speak well enough for men of Kemet and teaches us both. We try to speak as she does while Myt-ser'eu giggles. Azibaal and the other sailors say only Muslak is brown enough--I am too red. Both women say brown is better and feign to spurn me.

THREE WARSHIPS ARE
passing. They have sails but are rowed as well, and so go very fast. There are bearded men of Parsa on them, and men of Kemet too, long-legged soldiers with spears and enormous shields. We would have died very quickly, I think, if they had attacked us. The women say they would be raped, not killed, and Muslak and I would be chained to benches and made to row. I would not be chained. I would rather fight and die than row until death under the whip.

Those ships are nearly out of sight now, but we still hear their drums beating the rowing-rhythm. There is no singing. Free rowers would sing at the oars, or so it seems to me. The whip steals the song.

Muslak says the ships belonged to the satrap, the brother of the Great King. This satrap wants our ship too, though he has many others. Muslak does not know why.

Before I cease to write, I must write that we sail on the Great River of Kemet; it is because of this river that Kemet is also called Riverland, I think. Is it a great nation, as Neht-nefret and Myt-ser'eu insist? I do not see how
that can be when it is no more than this green valley. I have climbed the mast to look at it, and it is so narrow here that I could see the desert to my right. The valley land is black wherever it is not green--the contrast with the ocher desert beyond could escape no eye. We passed a distant city--its name is On, says Neht-nefret. Myt-ser'eu wished to stop there so she might look into the shops before its market closes, but Muslak refused, saying we must make Mennufer before dark.

Many canals water the land, but the river does not dwindle because of them. This seems strange.

One bank is near, to our right. The other is so distant now that it can scarcely be seen. We sail here because the current is slower, and because Mennufer is on this side. Ships coming down the river hold the middle of the channel; those sailing up, as we are, the sides. There are many palms, tall, graceful trees whose leaves grow only at the top. They sway and sway in the wind and were surely lovely women not long ago. Some jealous goddess turned them to trees.

OUR SHIP IS
tied to a pier at Mennufer, but Myt-ser'eu and I share this room and will sleep here. When we docked, Muslak told us he would hurry to the White Wall to tell the satrap we had come. Myt-ser'eu and I said we would see the city. He gave me money for the purpose. I bought Myt-ser'eu a necklace and new sandals, but we still had more than enough to eat at this inn. After eating we returned to the ship; but Muslak was not there, and Neht-nefret said he had not returned. She was angry because he had not taken her to the White Wall--she has never been inside, while Myt-ser'eu has not been to Mennufer before at all. Myt-ser'eu and I returned to the inn
and rented this cool and comfortable room, four flights up and next below the roof. Servants brought us water in which to wash and will wash our clothes for us, bringing them in the morning. Our bed is matting stretched on a wooden frame. It seems very poor to me, but Myt-ser'eu says it is better than the one we had at the last inn. I have an oil lamp with a fine, high flame to write by.

The city is noisy and crowded, exciting but tiring, particularly when one goes from shop to shop in the jewelers' quarter. The streets are narrow, and the buildings crowd together like men. The floor on the street is always a shop. There are other things above, and Myt-ser'eu says sometimes these are finer shops for the rich. This inn has a cookshop on the street--it was where we ate--and rooms for rent above. The highest are best and cost most. The walls at the street are very thick, as they must be to support so many levels above them. This keeps the lower levels cool, while the wind and a thick roof cool the upper levels.

Myt-ser'eu wants to buy cosmetics tomorrow. She says that she may only look at them and we may buy nothing, but I am not so young as to believe it. She also says that her own city, called Sais, was the capital of Kemet not long ago. Now the satrap rules from here, and she is glad. She would not wish him and all his foreign soldiers in her city. I am a foreign soldier myself--so I read. Yet Myt-ser'eu left Sais with me. No one can know the heart of a woman.

MYT-SER'EU HAS NO
new cosmetics, but she is good-natured about it. I tell her we will visit the perfumers' quarter when the satrap has spoken to us. This morning we walked about the saddlers' quarter first. Myt-ser'eu
insisted I get a bag in which to carry this scroll and my ink, one that would protect them. We found such a bag and bought it after much haggling. We were about to enter the perfumers' quarter when Neht-nefret dashed up. We were to meet Muslak at the gate of the White Wall at once. He had a dozen sailors searching for us too, she said, but only she was wise enough to guess where Myt-ser'eu would take me.

We rented donkeys and rode to the gate of the White Wall, on red land some distance from the city. The donkey boys are to wait for us there. Muslak and Azibaal soon joined us, and we were admitted by the guards. Muslak has a firman.

Before I describe this fortress I should say that only the center of the city we left is noisy and crowded. Beyond it are many houses of two and three floors, fine and large, with walled gardens and more gardens on their roofs. Away from the shops, the streets are wide, traversed by carts and chariots. It would be very pleasant, I think, to live in one of those houses. There is no city wall. None at all.

Muslak wished us to remain where the soldiers had told us to wait. I was eager to see the fortress and left anyway, promising to return soon. I climbed to the top of the outer wall, walked along it some distance, spoke with the soldiers I met there, and so on. The best quarter of the city lay at my left hand and the fortress at my right. There can be few such views in all the world.

I was slower in returning than I had wished because I became lost, but the rest were waiting still when I returned. Myt-ser'eu had the bag we had bought for my scroll, so when a young scribe passed I asked him for water to wet my pen. (I had found two wells, both very large, but I had nothing to put water in and did not wish to disobey Muslak again.)

He is a priest, and his name is Thotmaktef. He was friendly and gossiped with us. I showed him my scroll and explained that I could not write as the people do here, but only with the tongue with which I think. He brought me a little pot of water, and had me write my name and other things on a scrap of papyrus. The people of Kemet write in three ways,
*
all of which he showed me, writing his name in all before he left. There is more to say of him, but I wish to think more upon it before I write it.

Perhaps I should not write of it at all.

NO ONE IS
permitted to build a house within bowshot of the White Wall. The White Wall itself surprised me when I saw it. It is tall, but I had expected it to be taller. It surprised me a second time when we entered, for it is much thicker than it is high. The temples in the city have thick walls and monstrous pillars, but they are nothing compared with this great fortress. There are rings of defenses, square towers to guard the gates and the corners of the walls, and a dry moat. Archers on the towers would command the wall, should an enemy drive the defenders from it.

The soldiers I spoke with were of Kemet. They said the men of Parsa here are horsemen. These soldiers of Kemet were tall and dark. Many wore headcloths like mine. They had spears and big shields with slots in them to look through. One had a light ax as well. It hung on the back of his shield, held by two loops of rope and prevented from slipping through them by the hook at the end of the haft.

WE ARE AT
the inn once more, though we shared a fine roast goose first with Muslak, Neht-nefret, and Azibaal. I will not have long to write before we go, and there is much to write.

The satrap wanted to see us. He is younger than I expected, with no gray in his stiff, black beard. He has the eyes of a hawk. With him were two others, older men of Parsa and Kemet. These three sat; we stood. When the servant who had come for us had named us to the satrap, he said, "I have need of a stout ship--not a trireme with hundreds of rowers to feed, but a small and handy ship with a bold captain. Are you bold, Muslak?"

"Bold enough to do your will, Great Prince," said Muslak, "whatever it may be."

"Let us hope you speak truth. You Crimson Men are brave sailors, I know. Have you been to the Tin Isles?"

"More than once," Muslak declared.

"I will not ask you to go as far as that." The satrap spoke to Azibaal. "You're one of this man's officers?"

Azibaal nodded. "I am first mate, Great Prince."

"In which case you would swear he was bold, whether he was or not. Are you a bold sailor yourself?"

"I'm not as brave as he is," Azibaal admitted.

Muslak shook his head. "Azibaal's as stout a seaman as you'll find anyplace, Great Prince. As stout as I, and more."

"Let us hope. Two of you have women. One does not." The satrap pointed to Neht-nefret. "Whose woman are you?"

She bowed her head, unable to meet his eyes. "Captain Muslak's, Great Prince."

"And you?" He pointed to Myt-ser'eu.

She stood very straight then, and her eyes were proud. "I am Latro's, Great Prince."

For a brief time the satrap sat silent, and it seemed to me that Myt-ser'eu must not only have felt his gaze but feared his claws. At last she turned her head away.

"Latro is not the name I was given."

"I am of Kemet," poor Myt-ser'eu whispered. "We of Kemet call him Latro." (I asked her about this as we rode back. I have read my scroll to her, and it is there.)

The man of Kemet, who sat at the satrap's left hand, whispered something to him. He is very tall but stooped, with a shaven head, a hook nose, and glittering eyes.

The satrap nodded slowly. To me he said, "You have one name among the Crimson Men, another here."

I nodded, for I had learned as we sat waiting that Myt-ser'eu and Neht-nefret called me Latro, but Muslak and Azibaal Lewqys.

"You must speak aloud to the prince," said the other man of Parsa.

I said loudly, "Yes, Great Prince, it is as you say."

"I once knew a man named Artayctes," the satrap said. "He died at the hands of you Hellenes."

I said nothing.

"You do not recognize the name?"

"I don't, Great Prince."

"You are a Hellene and fear that you will be punished for his death. I understand. You will not be, Latro. You have my word. This Artayctes had a guard of Hellenes. He called in three and had them fight a man named Latro, who killed them all. Artayctes died before he could tell me of it, but certain others did not. You are that man."

I said nothing, for I recall no such incident.

"You do not deny it?"

I said, "I would never contradict you, Great Prince."

The satrap turned to Muslak. "Where did you get him, Captain?"

"In Luhitu, Great Prince. He's an old friend. He wished to go to Kemet, and I offered to carry him here without charge."

"If I send you south, will he go with you?"

"Only if you wish it, Great Prince."

"I do. Take him. I am going to send soldiers with you as well. What do you know of the southern lands, Captain?"

Muslak said, "I have been as far as Wast, Great Prince."

The satrap turned his hawk's eyes on Azibaal. "No farther?"

Azibaal spoke up like a man. "No, Great Prince."

"Very well. Listen to me, all of you. South of this land lies another called Nubia. It is not subject to my brother, but is not at war with us. Once it was subject to Kemet, thus the wise men of Kemet," he nodded toward the tall man, "know much of its history. Some even speak the tongue used there. No one here knows much of its state today. No one knows anything of Nysa, the wide land south of Nubia. I govern this land for my brother, and as
his satrap it is my duty to know much of the neighboring lands. I wish to send you, with your ship and crew, south as far as the Great River runs. You will find out these things for me, and return here to tell me of them. Is that plain?"

Muslak bowed. "It is, Great Prince."

The satrap looked toward the smaller man of Parsa, who rose and gave Muslak a heavy leather burse. He is short, and like many short men he sits and stands very straight. His scant beard is white.

"There are cataracts," the satrap said. "You will have to carry your ship around all save the first. It will be difficult, but it cannot be impossible. You will have to carry the supplies you buy with my gold around those cataracts as well. Keep that in mind when you choose them."

Muslak bowed again. "I will, Great Prince."

"It may be possible to hire local people to help you. This man," he nodded toward the small man who had given Muslak the burse, "will see to that. His name is Qanju. He will go with you. He will have a scribe and three of our soldiers at his command. You, also, will be at his command."

Muslak said, "We salute him, Great Prince."

"The man on my left is Sahuset, a wise man of Kemet. He too will go with you." The satrap turned to this Sahuset. "Will you have a servant, Holy One?"

If I had shut my eyes when Sahuset spoke, I might have thought it a snake, so cold and cunning was that voice. "No servant who must be fed, Great Prince."

"That's well."

Once again the satrap spoke to Muslak. "I will also send soldiers of Kemet with you. How many, you may say. They will be subject to Qanju just as you and everyone else aboard are. Bear in mind that you and Qanju will have to feed them, buying food in the places you pass.
Bear in mind also that you will need many men to help you get your ship past the cataracts. How many shall I give you?"

Muslak stroked his chin. "Five, Great Prince."

So it was decided. A servant returned us to the courtyard in which I had written and told us to wait. Soon Thotmaktef returned. Qanju wished to speak with us, he said, and after that we might go. He led us in a new direction, and soon into a sunlit room in which there were many scrolls like mine in wooden racks. Qanju was writing at a table there, but rose and laid aside his stylus when we came; he is no taller than Myt-ser'eu. He welcomed us, invited us to sit, and sat again himself. "I am to be your leader on a journey that is sure to be long and laborious," he said. "Since that is the case, it seems good to me to become better acquainted with you before we set out. I assume that none of you objects to my leadership? The satrap, Prince Achaemenes, has appointed me--I am a scholar, and would never appoint myself to such a position. If anyone objects, this is the time to say so."

Muslak cleared his throat. "I do not object, Noble Qanju. But I most respectfully ask that any orders given my crew be relayed through me."

"Of course." Qanju nodded, smiling. "I'm no seaman, Captain. I'll consult you on every matter concerned with your vessel, and replace you only if I must. Is that all?"

Muslak nodded.

"Anyone else?"

No one spoke. At last I rose. "Noble Qanju, I have come to Kemet to follow the footsteps I left here years before. I know now that I came to this city, and met Muslak here."

Qanju motioned for me to continue.

"If I find those steps, I will follow them," I finished.

"Ah! But what if you do not, Lucius?"

"I will remain with my friend Muslak until I do, if he will allow it."

Muslak said, "I will."

"Will you inform us, if you intend to leave? Bid us goodbye?"

I nodded. "Yes. Certainly."

"That is well. You know where you are, Lucius--that is your name, by the way--and why you are here, because you read your scroll while you waited to speak with the satrap. You will have forgotten tomorrow, unless you read your scroll again."

Myt-ser'eu looked surprised, but I agreed.

"This girl, and your friend, have reminded you of these and other important matters from time to time, serving as the memory you lack. I join their company, and join it gladly. Yes, my dear?"

It was Myt-ser'eu. "I don't think that name you used is in Latro's scroll, Most Noble Qanju."

Smiling, Qanju nodded. "I learned it by occult arts, my dear. Do you believe that?"

Myt-ser'eu bobbed her head, looking frightened. "If you say it, Most Noble Qanju."

"I do not. I merely wished to learn whether you would believe it. The satrap had been given a name for your patron. He confided that name to me. Hearing it, it was no great riddle to unravel the accent of a Crimson Man. It's all quite simple, my dear, as most tricks are."

There was a moment of silence before Neht-nefret asked, "Then you aren't really a seer?"

"Oh, but I am, my dear." Qanju's dark eyes twinkled. "My tribe is the Magi, and we are quite famous for it. Unlike the pretenders to our art, however, we do not lie about it. Do you wish your fortune told?"

Slowly Neht-nefret nodded.

"Then I will do it," Qanju said, "but not now. We will
have many idle hours on the captain's ship. There should be ample opportunity."

He cleared his throat. "Now that we are better acquainted, I will say the things I called you here to hear, so that I may get on with my work and you with your lives. First, that I will be in charge of our expedition. There will be no man on our ship who is not answerable to me, and no woman.

"Second, that I'll delegate my authority in certain matters. Captain Muslak will be in charge of our vessel and its crew. And of you, Neht-nefret. Lucius will be in charge of our soldiers, both those of Parsa and those of Kemet. Also of Myt-ser'eu, of course."

I said, "I forget, Noble Qanju, as you said. It seems to me that I'm not a suitable person to put in charge of armed men."

Qanju nodded, still smiling. "Should the charge of this expedition devolve upon you, as it may, you may remove yourself from command, Lucius. Until it does, it shall be as I say."

Azibaal said, "I think you've chosen wisely, Most Noble Qanju."

Qanju smiled and thanked him. "The third thing I wished to tell you is that Thotmaktef here, whom you have already met, is the scribe our satrap mentioned. He will be in charge of Sahuset--the most difficult post of all. I ask all of you, Myt-ser'eu and Neht-nefret particularly, to assist him in every way. Will you do that?"

Everyone nodded.

"That is well. I need not explain, I hope, that the Great King wishes only friendship and peace between the People of Parsa and the People of Riverland. Not everyone is as well-intentioned as he, however."

"I am," Muslak said.

Qanju nodded. "As am I. If we seven quarrel with one
another, how can we not quarrel with the Nubians? If we war among ourselves, we are sure to fail."

Neht-nefret looked from me to Muslak. When neither of us spoke she said, "There'll be three soldiers from Parsa and five from my country. If they fight ..."

"We will be ruined." Qanju's gentle gaze fell upon me. "It will be your task, Lucius, to make sure they do not. You are not of Parsa, nor of Kemet. Thus you will be resented equally by both. Your task will not be easy, but not beyond your ability. Captain, have you questions regarding the supplies you will buy?"

Muslak shrugged. "Ship's stores, and a few things to make us comfortable where there aren't any inns. Are there inns in Nubia, Noble Qanju?"

"A few, but we will go beyond Nubia."

"I know," Muslak said. "Into Nysa, wherever that is."

"As far as the river runs," Qanju whispered.

We were dismissed, all but Thotmaktef. Qanju's voice halted us before we reached the door. "Be wary of Sahuset. He may mean you no harm, but you will be polite to him without friendship, if you are wise."

Now a woman who serves this Sahuset has come for us, and Myt-ser'eu and I will go with her when the moon is down.

First I will write that when Thotmaktef came to us in the courtyard there was a baboon at his side. It was very large, and looked as grave as any man. I do not think the others saw this baboon, but I did. Thotmaktef himself did not see it, or so it seemed to me. I looked away, and after that I no longer saw it.