Soldier of Sidon, page 9
I admitted I did not.
“I was the one who suggested we stop at the tomb-temple of Sesostris when the problem first surfaced.” The scribe cleared his throat. “I'm a priest myself. You need not remind me of that. But I'm not skilled in exorcism and own no storied wand. I thought it better to go there and have everything done properly, and my master agreed.”
“Qanju?” I asked.
“Yes, of course. As a priest I took part in the exorcism. A small part, but a part. We'd rehearsed exorcism in the House of Life when I was younger, but this was my first experience of the actual rite and I very much hoped that it would be successful.”
I said, “But it wasn't.” It seemed safe.
“No, it—no. Last night …We were ashore. Do you remember that, Lucius?”
I said I did, though I did not.
“I caught a glimpse, more than a glimpse, really, of a—of a cat. An enormous cat, you understand. Very, very big. And black. Naturally I wondered.”
“All cats are black at night,” I said.
“No doubt.” The scribe laughed. “No doubt at all. But still …Well, I began asking questions, and one of the sailors said he'd seen the woman not long ago. It wasn't Neht-nefret or Myt-ser'eu. He seemed quite certain of it. Another woman of about the same age, quite beautiful, wearing a lot of jewelry.”
“He didn't speak to her?”
The scribe shook his head. “He was frightened, I'm sure. Perhaps he was simply frightened of her—I would be, I think. Perhaps he knew the cat would appear to protect her if he threatened her.”
I said, “Could he have known that?”
“I don't see why not. The sailors aren't exactly open with me, and one of them might have tried it and not told us.”
“You know it,” I said, “or you wouldn't have spoken as you did. Did it happen to you?”
The scribe shook his head. “My master told me. I wasn't sure they were linked, the woman and the cat. But he says they are. When he says something like that, he knows. He says the cat is with her, invisible, until she's threatened. It shows itself then so that she can escape.”
Uraeus whispered, “It cannot be with her always.”
“I suppose not.” The scribe shrugged. “There is a man who comes to the White Wall often who has a trained baboon, a big male. It will attack on command, or if it sees its master being attacked. He takes it with him whenever he goes out. But when he's at home it's locked in its cage.”
I said, “Not an invisible baboon.”
“No. One of the ordinary baboons who worship Ra. You say you haven't seen the cat down here, or the woman?”
“No. Not this time, at least. I suppose I could have been down here earlier, seen them, and forgotten it.”
“I doubt it. You saw them both earlier, and described them to Qanju and me. You said the cat was large, half again as large as most cats.”
I asked whether I had been afraid of it.
“I don't know. I doubt it. But the cat I saw was much larger than that. It must have been every bit as tall as a greyhound at the shoulder, with a tail as long as my arm.” The scribe paused, biting his lips. “Sometimes unsuccessful exorcisms just make things worse. I was taught that in the House of Life, too; I'd almost forgotten it.”
He paused to clear his throat. “Where did you get Uraeus, Latro?”
“My friend Sesostris gave him to me,” I said.
“I—see. I don't like quizzing you like this, Latro. We've always been friends, and I'd like to stay friends. Do you happen to recall my name?”
Uraeus whispered it behind me, and I said, “You are Holy Thotmaktef.”
“Right. I'm sorry to have troubled you.” He spoke to my slave. “Uraeus, were you a slave in the temple of Sesostris up to the time we tied up there?”
Uraeus whispered, “Should I answer, master? I do not advise it.”
“Yes,” I said, “this time.”
“I was not,” he told the scribe.
“Where were you?”
Uraeus shook his head. There is something eerie about that, as I wrote earlier.
The scribe rose, wiping his palms on his thighs. “Lucius, will you order your slave to answer my questions?”
“No,” I said. “Ask them of me, and I'll ask them of him if I choose.”
“All right. There may not be many, and I'll ask this one of you. Will you please, as a favor to me, ask him to go over there under the hatch, where the light's better?”
I did.
“Now will you, as another favor, have him raise his chin?”
“Lift your chin,” I told Uraeus. “There can be no harm in letting us see your neck.”
He did. When I saw how wrinkled his neck was I knew he was older than I had thought.
“I was looking for a scar.” The scribe seemed much more relaxed. “There isn't any.”
I agreed.
“You said he'd been down here earlier alone, didn't you? Would you ask him whether he saw the cat—a huge black cat—or the woman down here then?”
I turned to Uraeus. “Did you?”
“No, master.”
“Neither one?”
“No, master.”
“Thank you,” the scribe said. “I thank you both. A loyal slave who will hold his tongue is worth a great deal, Lucius. I congratulate you.”
We watched the scribe climb the ladder to the deck, and I motioned for Uraeus to sit again. When we were both seated I said, “You understand that a great deal better than I do, I think. Probably better than Myt-ser'eu does, too. Explain it to me.”
“No, master. Less than anyone, I fear. I had not heard of the cat until Thotmaktef mentioned it to us.”
“But you had heard of the woman.”
“Because I did not say I had not, master? No, no one had spoken of her to me. Do you wish to see her?”
“If you can show her to me.”
“Then come, master.” He led me to a bundle as long as I am high, a box wrapped in canvas and tied with rope. “She is in here, Master.”
“Perhaps we shouldn't untie that,” I said. “It doesn't belong to us, and there can't be a woman inside.”
“I will not untie it, master.” Uraeus looked up at me. I doubt that he ever smiles, but there was amusement in his slitted eyes. “Watch. I will show you this woman.”
He lifted the lid without difficulty. The wax figure of a beautiful woman lay in the box. “I found this while hunting rats, master. I have an instinct for such things.”
I was examining the wax figure. I lifted it, finding that my fingers thought it a real woman of blood and flesh, and laid it back in its box.
“Would you like to hear it speak?”
I shook my head. “I can easily believe that people have been deceived into thinking this wax woman real. Is that what you mean?”
“It is real, master. A real woman shaped of wax. If you change your mind and wish to hear it speak and see it walk, you and I might force the warlock to animate it, I think.”
12
I WAS AFRAID
“ARE YOU TALKING about our commander, Uraeus?” I returned to the boxes on which we had been sitting. “That little old man from Parsa?”
“No, master.” Uraeus joined me, bringing the lid of the wax woman's box. “Qanju is a Magi. Holy Sahuset is the warlock. He is a man of my own nation.”
“The healer.”
“Sahuset may heal at times, master. I do not know.”
“He can make that figure walk and talk? That's the woman the scribe was talking about?”
“Yes, master. Even by day, perhaps, although those who saw her in Ra's golden light might not be deceived. By night he can, certainly. And in dark places, too, or so I would guess.”
“Can you do it?”
To that question, Uraeus shook his head; if I had not been unnerved already, that would have done it.
“You are no common man,” I told him. Like so many frightened men, I spoke too loudly.
“There are no common men,” he whispered. “Only men others consider so. You yourself are not among those, master.”
“I suppose you're right.”
“Nor are there common women. Your Myt-ser'eu is no common woman, and neither is Neht-nefret. No more is Sabra.”
I asked who Sabra was, and he pointed to the wax figure. “It is a trick known to many, master. The wizard makes an image and causes the image to live for a time. I know you forget many things, but if you have seen a staff carved to resemble a serpent, you may remember it.”
“Perhaps I have seen such staffs,” I said, “since I feel sure that seeing a staff like that would not surprise me.”
“Warlocks have them, master, and anoint them with the blood of serpents. They throw them down, and the wooden serpent lives for a time. I fought such a serpent once.” Uraeus does not smile, or so I believe; but he came near it then. “The trick is easily done, and the box that surprised you easier still. Do you not wish to examine this lid?”
I carried it to the sunlight under the hatch; its canvas and ropes had been glued to the wood.
“The ends of these ropes touch the ends of the others, master,” Uraeus explained. “The cloth to which they cling has itself been glued to the lid. One must look carefully in Ra's light to see it as it is.”
I nodded, mostly to myself. “The healer must have brought this to our ship after dark. It's just a trick.”
“They are all tricks, master. None but the gods work miracles.”
“I'm surprised the lid didn't fall off while the box was being loaded. Do you know how he kept it on?”
A new voice, low and haunting, said, “You hold the answer.”
I turned, and saw the wax woman sitting up in her box.
“Would you like this back?” I asked. I was still frightened, but I showed her the lid. “I suppose it's yours.”
“You need not bring it, Latro.” She rose. “I will come and get it.”
This she did, walking slowly and gracefully, not in the least troubled by the gentle motion of our vessel. Can I ever have been as frightened as I was by the leisurely approach of that beautiful woman? Each fluid step shouted that worse than death may befall a man.
“Look here.” She turned over the lid to show its underside. “Don't you have handles like these on the back of your shield?”
I mastered my fear sufficiently to confess that I have no shield.
“Men who flee throw aside their shields and leave them on the battlefield,” the wax woman said. “You did not flee when I came to take this.”
“Neither did Uraeus,” I told her.
“He would not, only slither into some crevice.” She smiled. “Do you think him your friend?”
“He's my slave, but I hope he bears me no ill will.”
“He is no one's friend, save his master's.”
Uraeus surprised me, saying, “This is my master now, Sabra. His is the blood of Osiris.”
“What? Your chill ichor warms to him?” The wax woman's laugh was low and soft. “May I sit by you, Latro? There's plenty of room.”
I told her she might, rose while she sat, and resumed my seat when she had settled into place. “You are not wax,” I said.
“Thank you, kind Latro.”
“Your breasts moved as you sat. Wax would not do that.”
“My mouth moves when I speak to you. Would wax do that?”
I did not know what to say.
“We've met before, you and I, though you have forgotten me. I came to your inn to guide you and your little singing girl to my master's house.”
I said, “That must be why I'm not afraid of you,” although I was terribly afraid of her.
Uraeus whispered, “Did your master come here to animate you, Sabra? Can he walk unseen?”
“Oh, sometimes.” The wax woman smiled. “No, Serpent of Sesostris, he did not. He would be angry to learn that I walk and speak here.”
Uraeus's eyes narrowed. He leaned forward, and it seemed to me his neck grew longer, as a turtle's does. “Who has animated you?”
The wax woman ignored his question. “You do not have your sword tonight, Latro.”
“It isn't night,” I told her, “and I gave my sword to Myt-ser'eu while I wrestled.”
“I pray Great Ra excuse me, though he is no friend of mine. I am accustomed to the night. Possibly you fear that I have some weapon concealed on my person?”
“You may keep it if you do,” I told her.
“Thank you. In the same spirit of friendship, you may search me for a dagger.” Her hand found mine; it was warm, smooth, and soft. “Wouldn't you like to look under my skirt?”
“No,” I said. “By your own account, you belong to Sahuset. He has done me much good.”
“He risked your life to make himself great. Shall I tell you?”
“If you wish.”
Uraeus whispered, “You speak of what you cannot know.”
“Oh, but I do! He told me. Everyone must have someone to boast to.” The wax woman's voice was low, dull, and throbbing, but strangely distinct. “Your master boasts to his singing girl, I'm sure. Sahuset boasts to me, and I to your new master. To whom do you boast, Serpent of Sesostris?”
Uraeus only hissed in reply.
“I do not fear you. Latro will not harm me, and you cannot poison me.” The smooth little hand squeezed mine. “He drugged you, Latro. Write that in your scroll when you come to write. The drug often brings death. When it does not, it brings him who takes it near unto death. The breath slows and weakens. Would you feel my breath?”
“Do you breathe?” I asked.
“I must, to speak. Kiss me, and you will feel it.”
I shook my head.
“I will tell you more. Then you will send your slave away, giving him no tales to bear to—whom? Your singing girl? She would thank me for saving her so much night labor.”
That was untrue, and I knew it.
“You and she sat beneath a tree on the green hillside before a temple. My master came to you with wooden cups and a skin of wine. He gave you cups and filled them. The drug was smeared on the bottom of your cup alone.”
I sat in silence, considering what she had said.
“You do not credit me.”
I shook myself. “I don't know what to believe. I have to think.”
“You are still young, and the strongest man on this ship, yet you lay down to sleep. And died? No sword, no arrow, no fever, not even a cobra's bite. If you will not accept my explanation, how do you explain it?”
“I don't,” I said. “Even the gods are not required to explain everything. What is it you want?”
“Your love, to begin.”
“It isn't mine to give.” I tried to soften my words. “Love can't be handed over like a stone. I owe you friendship, and I'll try to be your friend because you've been mine.”
“If you are my friend, will you get me what I want? And need? What I must have?”
Frightened again, I only shrugged.
“Myt-ser'eu's blood. Or Neht-nefret's. It doesn't matter which. But quite a lot of it, not just a few drops.”
Uraeus hissed softly. I suppose it was meant as a warning to me, although I did not require it.
“No.” I struggled to sound firm. “I won't get anyone's blood for you unless you'll take the blood of beasts.”
“Latro, I cannot.” Tears trickled from both eyes, streaking her cheeks. “I must have the blood of such women as they. Reconsider, please.”
“You spoke of love,” I told her. “I love Myt-ser'eu. Neht-nefret is her friend, and my friend Muslak loves her.”
“He does not.”
“So you say.” I shuddered. “No! I won't do it.”
“I know all Sahuset's secrets. I can make you great among the xu, and will if only you will get me the blood I need. Myt-ser'eu cannot do that.”
I laughed to hide my fear. “My greatness is to begin with betrayal? Will they set up a statue in the forum for that? Well, I suppose they might.”
“You'll do it?” She squeezed my hand.
I shook my head. “If betrayal is the price of greatness among the xu, it's too high.”
“Then give me back my roof.”
I picked up the lid and handed it to her.
“I am a good friend, Latro, but a terrible foe. In days to come you shall learn the truth of that.”
Uraeus whispered, “Kill her, master!”
“How do you kill something that isn't alive to begin with?” I asked him. “Burning her would sink us.”
“Cut off her head. Now!”
She laughed at him.
“I don't have my sword,” I told Uraeus, “and I wouldn't do it if I did. She isn't mine.”
“Yet you will be mine someday.” Holding the lid above her head, she lowered herself gracefully into her box. Now I write of that, and the other things, because I know I forget. Sometimes it is good to forget and feel no fear. Yet the time may come when I will have to know these things. If Uraeus does not tell me of them, this papyrus will.
13
THE WOLF-HEADED GOD
AP-UAT IS THE god of soldiers. So says Aahmes and all the soldiers of Kemet. We went to the Magi and explained that we wished to make offerings to this god at his city, Asyut. He shook his head. He is under strict orders to make haste, and would not order our captain to stop there. We protested and he said that we would be free to make any offering we wished if we tied up there tonight. We asked for gold, which we might offer or use to buy a suitable offering. He said what gold he has was not his own but the satrap's, which he could use only for the satrap's purposes.
We went to the captain. He is a Crimson Man, and Myt-ser'eu says he is Muslak, our friend and Neht-nefret's special friend. He said we would pass Asyut about noon. My soldiers grumble at this. I have a little money and would use some of it to buy an offering, but of what use is that if we cannot go to the temple?
I HAVE BEEN speaking with the healer. He asked what was troubling me. “I slept,” I said. “Myt-ser'eu says I never sleep by day. She and I were sitting in the shade of the sail. At times we spoke. At others we kissed. At still others we were silent, happy to be in each other's company.”
