Soldier of Sidon, page 6
“I have never hunted them,” Muslak said, “but I know that they wreck big boats and trample men to death. Their jaws are immense, and their bite kills crocodiles. Their hides are thick and tough, and their fat keeps a spear from reaching their vitals.”
“Not mine,” one of my soldiers declared.
Laughing, Neht-nefret told him, “Tepu will kill you, Amamu.” Tepu is the river-horse.
I READ WHAT I had written about this ship to Myt-ser'eu. A sailor joined us to listen. When I stopped reading he said, “There's another woman.”
Both of us said there was not.
He shrugged. “I slept on board last night. There was a woman with us. We offered her money, but she refused and went below, and we couldn't find her.”
Myt-ser'eu asked, “Who was her protector?”
The sailor only rose and strode away. Myt-ser'eu says he is Azibaal. I asked Myt-ser'eu how she knew the woman had a protector.
“Because they would have forced her, of course. When we're back home in Sais, the priests protect us. That's why you have to go to the temple to get us. You don't remember the money you made Muslak give the priest, do you?”
I admitted I did not.
“I knew you didn't. It was a lot, and we don't get any of it. What you give us afterward is all we get—if you make a present of money to me when we part, or buy me jewels while we're together.”
“I don't have much money,” I said.
“You will have,” Myt-ser'eu told me.
THAT WAS EVERYTHING we said then, but I have been thinking about what Azibaal said. There cannot be a third woman on the ship this afternoon. Therefore, she was a woman of the place where we stopped last night. It was very large, so there must have been women there beyond counting. If she came on the ship but would not take money, she must have come to steal. If that is so—and it seems it must be—her protector was another thief. Since she went below, her protector was there stealing. Perhaps he told her to keep the sailors occupied while he stole. I have gone below and looked at everything, but if there is something missing, I do not know what it is.
Besides, Azibaal and the other sailors who stayed on board were there to guard against thieves, and would have seen the man and this woman when they left. Would not many men have taken everything? Would Azibaal and his sailors not have beaten one man or even two or three and driven them off? There is something here that I do not understand. I will stay on the ship myself tonight.
THE BRIGHT MOON we saw has slipped behind the western mountains, leaving the sky filled with innumerable stars; Qanju studies them even now, but I sit where he sat, writing swiftly by the twofold light of his lamps. Much has taken place tonight that I must record.
The village at which we stopped had no inn, only a beer shop. Qanju and Sahuset have tents; I had Aahmes and the other soldiers put them up for them as soon as we landed.
After we had eaten and drunk, I returned to the ship. Myt-ser'eu wished to come with me. I wanted her to stay behind, but she cried. We had drunk beer, and she fell asleep as soon as we sat down. I had persuaded Muslak to let my soldiers guard his ship, some of his men having guarded it the night before; and I had assigned the three from Parsa to do it. Now I questioned them. They had seen no one and heard nothing, so I told them they could go into the village and enjoy themselves. When they had gone, I laid Myt-ser'eu in a more comfortable place (earning a kiss, with sleepy murmurs) and covered her to keep off the insects. I sat up, swatting them from time to time and smearing myself with grease. To tell the truth, I did not expect to see or hear anyone; but I was reasonably sure that the sailor had not told Muslak, and I could not tell him myself without betraying the sailor. Guarding the ship seemed to be the only thing to do.
I had nearly fallen asleep when I heard her step. She emerged from the hold, her gems and gold bracelets gleaming in the clear light of a quarter moon, and walked with graceful, unhurried steps toward the bow.
Rising, I ordered her to stop. She turned her head very far to look back at me, but did not. It was only then that I felt certain she was not Neht-nefret.
I overtook her easily and caught her shoulder. “What are you doing on this ship?”
“I am a passenger,” she said.
“I haven't seen you on deck. Were you below all day?”
“Yes.”
I waited for her to say more. At last I said, “It must have been very hot and uncomfortable for you down there.”
“No.” Her voice is low, but quite distinct.
“Now you want to go ashore?”
“Yes.” She smiled at me. “I've no quarrel with you, Latro. Stand aside.”
By that time I had seen that she was carrying nothing and had no weapon. Also that she was tall, young, and very beautiful. “I can't leave the ship unguarded to take you to the village,” I told her, “and if you go alone, you may be attacked.”
“I do not fear it.”
“That's courageous of you, but I can't let you risk yourself like that. You'll have to stay here with me until someone else comes.”
“Someone else is already here,” she told me.
As she spoke, I heard the spitting snarl of a cat behind me. I spun about, drawing Falcata.
The cat's eyes blazed brighter far than the moonlight, smoking braziers of cruel green fire. When I took a step toward it, it snarled again, and I saw the gleam of its teeth. I feared, at first, that it might attack Myt-ser'eu—then that it had already, tearing her throat swiftly and silently. I advanced, wishing with all my heart for a torch. It moved to its left. When I moved to counter it, to its right. It was as large as many dogs.
As a bubble bursts in the river, it was gone.
I looked everywhere for it, certain it could not have jumped from the ship without my seeing it. At last it seemed to me that it could only have darted down the hatch and into the hold. There may be men who would have pursued that cat into the pitch darkness of the hold, but I am not such a man. (This I learned only a short time ago.) I replaced the hatch cover and tied it down with the rope that had been coiled beside it.
Only then did I look around for the woman who had come out of the hold. She was already well along the path leading to the village. I called to her, but she did not stop or even turn her head. Perhaps I should have run after her, although Qanju says I was right to stay on the ship. In a moment or two the woman had vanished into the night.
He arrived, and his scribe with him, not long after. “I came to study the stars,” he said. “Are they not beautiful? They are best seen when the moon is down.”
He lay on his back on the deck so as to see them without craning his neck.
“The moon has not set,” I said, wishing to tell him what had happened but not knowing how to begin.
“It will be down soon,” he told me, “and I will be ready. Even now, one may learn much.”
Thotmaktef had seated himself beside him and spread a scroll like this upon his knee, ready to write as his master directed.
“A woman has gone into the village,” I told them.
“A village woman?” Qanju asked.
Recalling the way her jewels had gleamed in the moonlight, I said, “No.”
“Not your woman—she would not leave you.”
“Myt-ser'eu?” I knew she was mine, but I wanted time to think. “She's asleep in the stern.”
“Not the captain's woman. We left her behind us, didn't we, Thotmaktef?”
Thotmaktef nodded. “We did, Most Noble Qanju.”
“Another woman?”
“Yes,” I said.
“You have forgotten her name.”
It was not a question, but I said, “No doubt I have.”
“Indeed.” Qanju sat up, surprising me. “Tell me everything, Lucius.”
I did, speaking worse than I write and using too many words.
“This is an important matter,” Qanju said when I had finished. “Will you remember everything in the morning?”
“Perhaps I will.” Although I know I forget, I cannot be sure how soon I forget, or how much.
“I did not intend to pain you. You appear sober enough to write. Are you?”
“Certainly,” I said.
“Good. You speak our tongue badly, making it difficult to judge. Thotmaktef?”
“Yes,” Thotmaktef said.
“You are to come with me, Lucius. There are two fine lamps in my tent. You are to write of this incident in your scroll before you forget it. Include every detail. When you have finished, you may return here, if you choose.”
I protested, saying that Muslak would be very angry when he learned that his ship had been left unprotected. This I knew to be true.
“It will not be unprotected,” Qanju explained. “Thotmaktef will take your place until you return. He is young, strong, and honest. I would trust him with my life.”
I offered to lend him my sword, but he declined with thanks.
That is all, and now I will return to the ship and Myt-ser'eu.
No, one thing more. When Qanju and I had traveled some distance up the path from the river, I looked behind me to see whether Thotmaktef had uncovered Myt-ser'eu. He had not, but he was untying the rope with which I had fastened the cover over the hatch.
8
SHADE
A BREEZE AND a lovely woman must be pleasant at all times—or so it seems to me. Sahuset, the wise man of Kemet, has been speaking with Myt-ser'eu and me beneath these fragrant trees. There is nothing my eyes can see here that is not beautiful, save my own feet. Sometimes Myt-ser'eu speaks. Sometimes she is silent. That is the best way for a woman.
For anyone.
At times we kiss and laugh. Work is good, I think. No doubt hard fighting is good sometimes as well. But there are times when the best thing is to sit as we do, in a place of beauty, watching the sails upon the blue waters of the Great River. Before Sahuset came, we washed in the canal.
Myt-ser'eu says I speak her tongue well. I do not think so, yet she insists. I want to learn it, but know (because she tells me) that I forget each morning. Yet she insists that I speak much better than I did when we met.
She chose me, she says, in the temple of Hathor in her city. She says also that it is already written in this scroll; thus I need not write it again. That temple is very far from here.
The temple behind us is that of Sesostris, a different god. He was a king long ago, but has become a god of a thousand years. (The priest told us this.) He built a mountain of white stone here, very beautiful, and his priests have built the other things, the wall, the temple, and many other buildings—a little city, Myt-ser'eu says, and I agree. I would call them of no use; the people of this land do not, and the labor was theirs, not mine.
MYT-SER'EU TELLS ME I must write of the counsel we gave Qanju this morning. She says it because she wishes to know what we said, I know, and will tease me until I have read all that I write to her. Very well.
The sailors had complained to Muslak, and Muslak to Qanju, who summoned Azibaal, Sahuset, Thotmaktef, and me. He made me read from this, all that I had written when I remembered the woman herself. Now I recall only the things I read to the others.
Azibaal told us what the sailors had seen this morning, then what they had seen earlier, because I had mentioned it in my account. The sailors wish to turn back, Azibaal said, and to leave Qanju, Thotmaktef, and Sahuset here. I think they would like to leave my men, the women, and me behind as well; but they know Muslak would not consent to it. Soon they will want to leave Muslak, too—no one said that, but I think it.
“Let us do the other thing,” I told Qanju. “There must be many good sailors among the men of Kemet. My men and I will drive these ashore, and you can hire others.”
Muslak said, “You'll have to put me ashore too.”
“Then I will not do it,” I promised him.
“Nor will I,” Qanju murmured. “These men have a legitimate complaint. It is our duty to resolve it. You have searched the ship for the woman?”
I nodded.
Muslak said, “So have I—I went with him.”
“Without finding her. What of the cat?”
“It's larger than other cats,” I said. “I've seen it. I believe I'm the only one here who has.”
Thotmaktef said, “We breed cats much larger than any of you foreigners have, and use them to hunt small game.” He looked to Sahuset for agreement, but Sahuset did not speak.
Muslak added, “Besides, you've forgotten it, Lewqys. You're just telling us what you wrote down.”
“No,” I said. “I remember the cat.” I held my hands apart to show its size.
“Do you?” Qanju whispered.
Muslak grinned and slapped my back. “You're getting better!”
Sahuset smiled too.
“What of my question, Lucius? What traces of the cat did you find?”
“None,” I said.
“The urine of cats has a strong odor. …”
“I know,” I said. “I did not smell it.”
“Neither did I,” Muslak declared, “and I would have.”
“In that case, the cat is not on the ship, though I feel sure the woman must be.”
Thotmaktef looked puzzled. “How can you know that, Most Holy Qanju?”
Qanju spoke to me. “You remember the cat, you said. A large cat with green eyes.”
I nodded. “Very large.”
“Do you also remember the woman, Lucius?”
I held up my scroll. “Only what I have here. But I remember also that it was you who insisted I write, for which I thank you.”
“In which case we may assume that the woman is here.”
Qanju turned to speak to Thotmaktef. “The cat vanished while Lucius was looking at it. He says it could not have jumped into the water, and I agree. Cats walk very quietly, but they cannot leap into water quietly. Since this cat was at the back of our vessel, some distance from the riverbank, it could not have sprung to the bank unseen. Having no other explanation, Lucius assumed that it must have gone into the hold. We know it wasn't there.”
Slowly, Thotmaktef nodded.
“In which case …” Qanju sighed. “Let us call it a ghost. That will make things simpler. The woman is not a ghost, however. Lucius touched her shoulder. Wishing to go to the village—or to our tents, which were near it—she walked up the path, even as we.”
“I am blessed,” Thotmaktef said, “to hear such wisdom.”
“I will bless you further. Lucius forgets the places he has visited and the people he has seen in them. He even forgets Myt-ser'eu. In short, he forgets all the occurrences of common life. He does not forget the cat. Therefore, it does not belong to common life.”
Thotmaktef murmured, “Myt-ser'eu,” and wrote something on the deck with his finger.
“Interesting,” Qanju murmured.
Sahuset nodded, I noticed, although his head scarcely moved. Thotmaktef was seated at Qanju's right, Sahuset at Thotmaktef's right. Sahuset, at least, had read what Thotmaktef wrote.
Muslak turned to Azibaal. “Which one scares them most?”
Azibaal spat. “They both do.”
“You're saying that the woman's still in the village,” Muslak told Qanju, “but the men say they saw her come back to my ship.”
“I am saying nothing of the kind, Captain. I am saying that she is here on your ship and might be found.”
“I searched it. So did Lewqys.”
Qanju sighed. “You did not know where to look. I do, and may tell you later. If the woman were not accompanied by the cat, your men would not fear her.”
Muslak and Azibaal nodded.
“They would offer her money, and if she would not take it, they would take her by force. Thus we need not rid ourselves of her, only of the cat.”
I said, “I would protect her.”
Azibaal frowned at me. “If she were gone, her cat would be gone too. That's what I think.”
“Perhaps, but I doubt it.” Qanju turned his head. “You seem eager to speak, Thotmaktef.”
“As the Most Noble One wishes. We will soon be in sight of a great temple, the Mortuary Temple of Sesostris.”
“A suitable venue?”
“I believe so, Most Noble Qanju.”
Qanju smiled. “And what does Sahuset say?”
The wise man of Kemet shrugged.
“The cat must cease manifesting itself on this ship—or so the matter appears to me. Who among you disagrees?”
No one spoke.
“My scribe has suggested a means that may prove effectual. Has anyone some other means to suggest? Learned Sahuset?”
Sahuset shook his head.
“Then let us follow my scribe's suggestion.”
That was everything of importance. We tied up in the canal that feeds the sacred lakes. Qanju and Muslak went to the temple and talked with the priests, then with the chief priest. When they returned they said we must wait.
Myt-ser'eu points to words, presses herself close, and tickles me, asking what those words mean. Sahuset frightened her, I think. She would endear herself to me more than ever; that is plain. Women are ever affectionate where there is danger, and there would be less danger if it were not so.
9
WE LINGERED HERE
SAHUSET CAME WHEN we had been lolling here for some time. He brought cups and a skin of wine, which we shared with him. I do not like unmixed wine, but I drank a cup of it, slowly, so as not to offend him. Myt-ser'eu feared his wine was drugged (as she has told me since) and only feigned to sip until he had drained his own cup.
“I am the outcast of our ship,” Sahuset said. “You need not agree. I know it, and know you both know it. That is enough.”
“Everyone respects you,” I told him.
He shook his head. “Everyone fears me, except you, Latro. When a man is respected, no one wants to plant a dagger in his back. When he is feared, everyone thinks upon it, and tests the point.”
Myt-ser'eu turned down her empty cup and spoke boldly. “I fear you because I remember all that happened when we went to your house. Latro has forgotten those things or he would fear you too.”
