* * *
We travelled to the island in two dhows. Naguib’s dhow, with the Omars and two Nubians, travelled on the seaward side of the island. Omar the Centurion guided the other dhow to the leeward side, crewed by Isesi, two Nubians, Minkaf and myself. On the ship remained Mushariff and all other Nubians. They were to secure our ship until we returned. Before we parted Naguib ordered that we return before the sun fell behind the island. We do not know this land he said. And we do not know its peoples or its animals. For these reasons he said, we must take care. If we had but known the truth of these words.
Omar steered our dhow to the sandy shore of the cove and we carried our barrels and baskets onto the sand. Omar and Minkaf carried the spears, the Nubians and Isesi the barrels. I carried the baskets. After securing our dhow to the limb of a dead tree close by the water’s edge, we followed the small watercourse across the sand and into the trees. After a short distance the watercourse disappeared into a deep dark gully that split the side of the mighty sand dune that stretched above us. We filled the barrels from the spring where it bubbled from the sand and set the barrels in the shade of a tree. There they would be safe until we returned.
The sun was still low in the sky when we began to climb the mighty dune. But when we came to the top of the dune, our muscles screaming, our bodies wet with heat, the sun was high above our heads. I believe it was as when we marched to battle, when the sand slipped beneath our feet, when we took one pace back for each two paces forward. Yes, it was as if it were our homeland. The pains of my legs told me this was so. But such thoughts were soon driven from my mind. As we looked out from our place of rest at the top of the mighty dune we saw a vista of such beauty that our voices were hushed. Truly this was a mighty dune, stretching far into the sky above the blue waters of the ocean, and testing our strength as never before. But it was one of many. For on all sides stretched islands, each filled with great dunes, many as great, nay some even greater, than the one on which we stood. They rolled into the far distance across the blue waters until they were lost in the distant mist of the horizon, their high rounded backs streaked with gold and green, set in soft green and blue waters. The colours brought to my mind the colours of the scarab, a swirl of blue and gold and purple and green such that is a feast for the eye.
Our eyes roamed as we drank from the goatskins. We stood at the top of a mighty dune which itself stood at the far end of a sand island. The island stretched far and was shaped as is the crescent moon, the seaward side of the island a long curved stretch of white sand. At the base of the dune on the leeward side we could see long green valley that stretched for more than a day’s walk. An oasis of dark water lay against the base of the dunes in the distance. Far below us on the seaward side lay our mighty ship. It appeared as a plaything, so small that a child might throw it about at his bath. And further to the seaward side, a tiny white dot moved on the water, Naguib’s dhow, as it made its way along the soft white curve of the crescent island. No other islands lay to seaward. It was that we had landed upon the first of many islands, a string of pearls that stretched across the ocean as when the Gods had thrown the stars across the sky. And as beautiful.
But again Omar drove us on. To the oasis he shouted, pointing far down the green valley. And so, after asking us to climb so far to the top of this enormous dune, did he ask us to climb down from it, knowing well that we must return and of course again climb the dune, yet again to climb down. Sometimes I wonder at the minds of men. I recall I looked to all sides to see if there might be an easier path. But the dunes were curled one upon the other and nowhere could I see another path to ease our burden. I groaned and shook my head and joined my comrades. I was young and strong. My legs would carry me for many days yet, no matter what Omar asked of me.
* * *
We descended to the base of the dune much as we climbed to its summit, our sandals slipping in the fine sand, our hands stung by the sharp leaves and branches of the stunted bushes, our legs without strength, until we stumbled out upon the green grass of the valley floor. However, unlike our journey to the top of the dune, our journey down was mercifully short, though Minkaf fell into a watercourse and climbed from the deep gully cursing and pricked by thorns. When we had spied the oasis from the top of the tall dune, it seemed but a short march. But it was not so. The sun still rose high above us but as we drew near the oasis it touched the edge of the highest dune and the valley began to fill with shadow. Omar motioned us forward. Make haste he cried. We have a long journey back and I have no wish to sleep on land tonight.
As the Nubians filled our goatskins all others cast about in the thick forest surrounding the oasis. There were berries aplenty, small trees of nuts, which Minkaf grasped then shook hard, causing many nuts to fall to the ground, short dark bushes, green of leaf but heavy with a sweet dark fruit. We soon filled our baskets and carried these back to the oasis. The Nubians had filled the goatskins and Omar was eager to depart. The sun had fallen further behind the dunes and the valley floor was now dark and gloomy. The tops of the dunes glowed a bright gold in the evening sun. I recall my thoughts as I lashed a basket to my shoulders and looked up at the tall dunes above us. Again I thought. Again I must climb that treacherous slope? Then I thought of home. One last time I said to myself. And then we turn for home.
The Nubians were noisy as we walked the valley floor, speaking loudly with Omar. He said that they complained of the water in the oasis, that it was sour and smelled bad, as if a herd of camels had bathed in it. And though blue from a distance, when a man stood close he could see that it was dark, almost black, the colour of old tea. Why was this so they asked. What lay within it? What might be our fate if we were to drink it? Minkaf listened as Omar spoke with them, quietening them, taking a goatskin and drinking deeply to show there was no danger. Then he turned to tell us of their fears, how the dark water swirled and bubbled as they filled the goatskins, that while we searched in the bushes they had seen strange eddies and shadows in the water, as if something moved in the darkness, its shape almost clear then fading quickly before their eyes could see it and know what it was. They were very fearful. But Omar chuckled, and lifted his shoulders. It is water he said. Sour and stale perhaps but we can empty our goatskins at the spring near the beach. Do not drink unless you wish to.
As we began our climb up the side of the dune he said he had lived for two years in the land of the Nubians, and he told how they worshipped the Gods of darkness and blood. He spoke of dark rites and strange customs that saw the blood of animals spilled, and sometimes, that of children. Spilled to satisfy the everlasting hunger of the Gods of the night, of fearful masks and loud drumming that shook the soul, of stick like figures of wax and wood, painted with charcoal and ochre, used by the Nubian priests to curse and terrify their fellow men. When he saw our faces, white with fear, he laughed. Only the Nubians themselves were so slow of mind, he said, as to believe the tales that their priests would tell. No Egyptian would believe such things. I recall I cast a quick look towards my comrades, as we hauled our baskets to the summit. Would they believe the words of the priests, even though they be Nubians? I knew that I would. I also knew that I would not drink of the black water.
When at last we reached the summit, our bodies wracked with pain, the sun was a pinprick of bright light on the distant horizon, The sky to the west was painted with orange and purple, the islands like black pools upon a sheet of gold. To the east all was darkness but there, far below us, a tiny spark of light from our ship. Omar stayed us for a short time upon the summit, and allowed all to drink. Even I was so thirsty that I drank deeply of the sour water. It tasted like the nectar of the Gods. I saw that the Nubians also drank deeply. We men are but shallow creatures I have decided, damned always to take the easiest road. But I was tired and did not care.
Our journey from the summit of the dune to the water’s edge was slow, our movements hampered by our heavy baskets and the uncertain purchase of our sandals on the steep slope of the dune.
When finally we fell onto the beach in the darkness our bodies were again wet with heat, our shoulders aching with the pull of the baskets, our muscles tired and spent. We fell into the dhow and only Omar had the strength to haul the sail and turn us toward the light of the ship.
When we climbed aboard our ship Minkaf turned to his kitchen but I had no stomach for food. Let the others eat. My body cried out for rest. I crawled to my sling on the lower deck, the smells of the fresh water and the berries and the fruits sweet to my nose. Above me, through the hatch to the main deck, I saw bright stars, more than I had ever seen, filling the heavens with a bright milky light. I recall that I stared in wonder but my eyes were tired and sore. I could not stay awake, and that night I slept a sleep so deep that even the grumbles and growls of the Beasts did not wake me. I slept the sleep of the dead.
* * *
On the next morning I awoke late, my muscles stiff and sore, and fell from my bed with curses and groans. As I made my way to the main deck I heard Minkaf and Isesi laughing. What is it that these jackals find so funny at such a time of the day? Have they no manners? But it was indeed much later than I had imagined, for the sun was high above the ship, burning brightly off the water and the dunes and causing me to cover my eyes as I looked about. A warm breeze curled about our shoulders and through the rigging of our ship. Our ship creaked and rocked gently as the blue waters rolled smoothly beneath us. Around us the golden dunes stretched on all sides. The sky was of brightest blue, that of lapis lazuli, nay even brighter than lapis lazuli, touched here and there with the soft shapes of white clouds. On the foredeck I could see Minkaf and Isesi standing next to the Omars and Naguib. They all looked to the nearest sand island and when I followed their gaze I too saw the smoke. And, on the breeze, the smell of cooking meat.
The smoke rose from the edge of the trees in the small cove that we had visited just one day past. As I peered across the blue water to the island I could see that a small fire burned. And as I watched I saw that straw men moved around it. I wondered if it could be those that we saw when last we landed, before we sailed for days before the storm. Could it be those same dark beings? Or were there many of these people scattered across this land? My comrades crowded to the railing with me to wonder at these things.
What were these men doing I asked myself. Was the fire a cooking fire? What did they cook? Was it an animal? Perhaps the strange red haired animal that jumped. There were many of the straw men near the small fire, perhaps greater than a score, but they did not move around. Many crouched near the fire, others standing close by, the smoke curling blue and white in the soft air. For a long time we watched, the sun crossing the sky above our heads, the shadows forming on the water. Then we heard a faint cry, as if of a bird, and we saw that the straw men were all standing. And from the edge of the trees we saw more dark beings emerge. I heard Isesi gasp and I saw his surprise, for these new beings were of finer form than the straw men, more rounded of hip and shoulder, and not so tall. Though distant I was sure they carried a strangely flattened basket upon their heads, a basket that they steadied with one hand as they walked across the sand to the fire, their bodies swaying like the reeds of the Nile. I knew in that moment that they were the women of this tribe of straw men. And, I am still ashamed to this day to say this, I felt the excitement rise within me. I did not need to look to my comrade’s faces to know that they felt as I did.
There was a cry from the railing. One of the Omars was pointing toward the island. The straw men had a small boat, not a score of cubits in length, and they had set it upon the water. It was thin, no more than two, perhaps three cubits wide, and of dark timber. I wondered if it was of the same timber I had taken at our last landing, and which now lay in our storerooms on the second deck. As we watched the straw men began to push their small boat towards our ship. I saw that they used a piece of wood, not so long as a spear, but flat and wide as with the shelves of our kitchen cabinets, driving it deep into the water beside their boat and using it to thrust their boat forward. In but a few moments the small boat was at the side of our mighty ship, and we crowded to the railing to peer at the straw men. Naguib and the Omars had taken spears and a bow from the cabinets beside the mast but it was soon clear that these straw men meant no harm to us. Three straw men sat in the small boat as it rocked in the soft blue waters. They came no closer than two score cubits, their eyes white in their dark faces, their hair wild and woven with reeds and grasses, their skins the colour of the mud of the Nile. Beside me one of the Nubians whispered to his comrade and pointed. The skins of the straw men were patterned with lumps and scars, and rubbed with ash, just as were the skins of the Nubians. What was this strange likeness? Why was it so? I could feel the unease of my Nubian comrades.
Then one of the straw men held out his arms, his hands holding two large fish. He shook the fish and pointed to the beach. Then he touched the fish to his mouth and pointed again to the beach. I heard Isesi ask Omar the Centurion what was it the straw men wanted from us. But it was Naguib who answered. Naguib leaned his spear against the railing and rubbed his beard. They wish us to come to the island he said. They wish us to eat with them. They are here in peace. When Naguib spoke we all looked again at the three strange men in their small craft. Then we looked to the island where the blue smoke still curled through the trees. And where our eyes were drawn, as if by magic, to the finer forms that now moved near the fire, their shoulders soft and full, their hips round and womanly. It was then that I cast my eye back at Isesi and I saw his eyes filled with an evil light. Truly I felt a premonition in that moment but it was my failing that I did not act upon it. In truth, perhaps I could not, for the premonition was in only my mind and not yet in the realm of men. So what could I do? But trust me when I say that if I had done, at that moment, even the smallest thing, then we might never have seen the dangers of the coming night.
* * *
(Here endeth the fifteenth night of words of Agymah Chahine of Abydos - scribed by Khuyb, Daughter of Agymah, in the City of Memphis in the fourth year of the Ox. Agymah has gone again to visit his friend Nedemeb and has been joined by Imhotep, who has returned from the souq.)
Part XVI – Douwwi and Pasine
(Here is written the sixteenth night of words of Agymah Chahine of Abydos - scribed by Khuyb, Daughter of Agymah, in the City of Memphis in the fourth year of the Ox. Imhotep has placed a heavy box at my feet, made from the wood of the palm and wrapped in a shawl of red and green. He tells me the gift cannot be revealed until I have completed my father’s tale.)
Ah, I see that my daughter is unhappy this day, that her humour has fled and she treats me badly. But why does she treat me badly? It is not I who has spoken with the clumsy Imhotep. That duty was taken by my good wife, a duty that she took to herself alone. Truly I know that she wishes well for her daughter but her daughter is also her father’s child. A child that has long been strong-minded and not one to shirk or cringe from adversity. I think it is clear that our daughter does not need that we speak on her behalf.
But I think that my daughter and my wife are upset because, though I drank deeply with Nedemeb last evening, I do not suffer. They do not think it just. That I return to our home so late in the night, singing and laughing loudly, yet awake next morning clear of head and bright of eye. No, far happier would they be should I awake with my bowels on fire and my head pounding like the anvils of the metal shop. And now I see the flash of eye and shake of head that means I have gone too far. So be it. I am a father and a husband and as such I will speak my mind. But of course it does not really matter that I speak my mind for they will pay it no heed. This I should have learned long ago. But I was foolish and did not and so I will cease my chatter and continue my story.
We joined the tribe of dark people early on that fateful evening. But not before Naguib had ordered the Beasts fed, with fish from the barrels we hauled from the second deck. And not before Naguib stood before us and warned us of the dangers that might arise. Watch how these men
eat he said to us. Eat as they do. Eat only after they have eaten. And drink only after they drink. Watch carefully that you do not offend their custom. Do not bare your teeth in laughter until you see that they bare their teeth in laughter. Do not touch their shoulder in a comradely way for in their culture this may seem as a grave offense, one even that may see blood on the sand. And he warned us, as he looked into the eyes of each man, that we should not have our eyes linger on the women of the tribe, even as they kneel and serve. And he warned also, that before all else, we should never touch a woman. Never. For many times had he seen this, and always would there be the spill of blood. So, pay heed to the customs of your hosts. Treat all with respect and honour and we will return safely to our ship, our minds at rest, our bellies filled with food.
At this Naguib led us to the storeroom on the second deck, where he broke open the cabinets and the barrels. We must take gifts he said, for it is with generous heart and friendship that the straw men meet with us. We must also be of generous heart and friendship, and share with these men the bounty of Egypt. Many bolts of soft cloth we loaded to the dhow, and many beads, stored within a vat taken from Minkaf’s kitchen. We took a half score of jars filled with sweet smelling ointments, and two knives, their blade bright, the Pharaoh’s crest shining. These gifts would bring pleasure to the straw men, for their loincloths were sewn from animal skins, and their spears only of hardened wood. Yes. These gifts would truly be welcome.