Lion of the Sands

by Robert Sullivan

  Over the many days that we poured water into the cages, and forced the pitiful goats through the small grates, I came to know the Beasts. In the three cages near the foredeck the females and young paced and slept. In the three cages below the rear deck, larger young and older males were held. These were the larger beasts, fearsome to behold when only a few cubits and bronze bars stood between. In the last cage two large older males and one younger male lay. One of the older males had suffered a wound, mayhap when an arrow or spear had pierced its eye. The skin above the eye was marked by a long scar, and the eye was blind and white. Nabob would point to the white eye and call out the word Buta. I did not know the meaning of this word but I came to know the Beast by this name. And Buta came to know me. For he would turn his head, his single red eye following me if I passed by the cage. And if I stood near to the cages when speaking with Naguib or Nabob, Buta’s head would lift and turn to me. At first I was fearful, for it knew my voice. But after many days passed I knew, too, that the Beast would always hear my voice when food and water came, so that when it heard me speak, it looked to the sound for its next meal.

  As we sailed through the Pillars of Hercules the sun was bright on the blue water. The straight between the Pillars was wide, greater even than a day of sailing with a strong breeze, the Pillars themselves high and rocky in the distance. It was this day that one of the Nubians chose to leave us. We were passing by the Pillars, our sails full, the seas long and green beneath us, the sun high above, when there were shouts of surprise. We all ran to the stern. A young Nubian had jumped into the green waters and was swimming towards the distant shore. One of the Nubians called his name. Dadsoul! I had seen him many times at the sails but I had spoken little with him. He was only a young boy, but quite tall and sturdy. I wondered why he had leapt from the ship, for the wind was rising and the shore a great distance.

  As we moved quickly through the water and the waves rode high and white behind us, we soon lost sight of the young man. The Nubians all ran to Naguib, shouting and waving their arms, their eyes white and flashing. I knew that they wished to turn the ship about. But the wind was strong and rising, our ship rolling heavily between the long waves. Naguib looked to the seas, which now rose, crested and green, behind our ship, and to our sails, filled and bursting in the wind. He turned back to the Nubians. I could not hear what he said but the Nubians all screamed as one, then ran to the railing at the stern, crying out and weeping.

  Naguib was quite angry at what had happened, and for some time afterward all on the ship were quiet, as if chastened. Our journey had been so free of worry that I truly believe all on board were shocked when the young man leapt into the sea. Was there danger out there that we did not know of? Was it simply that he wished to return to his home? What did he know that we did not? These were the thoughts that passed through my head and, I knew, through the heads of my comrades. We will never know if Dadsoul was able to swim to shore, but I have always believed in my heart that he did. And when I look back on what was to happen in the many months and years that followed, I am still not certain that his act was not the better choice. I will leave that for you to think upon.

  As I watched the Pillars fall behind us I felt the movement of our boat change, the short rolling waves of the sea becoming longer, and deeper. And the colour of the water began to change, the bright blue of the Medi turning a dark deep green. In front of us stretched a boundless horizon and, as I looked out on this, I felt fear move again in my chest. What was I, Agymah Chahine, furniture maker of Memphis, doing here? Why was I on this ship, in the middle of this large and very frightening ocean? Who were these people that travelled with me? What were these terrible Beasts that we transported? And where, in the name of Ra, was the land of Gond? These were some of the questions I put to Naguib, late in the afternoon, but two days sail from the Pillars. Some he would answer. Some he could not answer. Our passage was now south along the coast of Maroc and, as the ship leaned and rolled with the wind, the sun falling into the ink-like darkness of the water, I knew that our journey was to be long. And with many perils. It is well that I did not know how long. Or how many perils.

  * * *

  (Here endeth the seventh night of words of Agymah Chahine of Abydos - scribed by Khuyb, Daughter of Agymah,, at the house of Agymah and Eti, in the City of Memphis, in the fourth year of the Ox.)

  Part VIII – By the Coast of Maroc

  (Here is written the eighth night of words of Agymah Chahine of Abydos - scribed by Khuyb, Daughter of Agymah, at the house of Agymah and Eti, in the City of Memphis in the fourth year of the Ox. Imhotep, Son of Shariff, is absent as his jaw is swollen, the priests having taken a rotten tooth two days past.)

  The days dawned bright and warm as we sailed south. Far to our left, or as Naguib informed us – to our port side - we could see the white rocky hills of Maroc, patched with green, trails of smoke where a small oasis or town nestled. To our right – our starboard side – stretched the wide blue of the ocean. It terrified me. I had never seen anything so flat or without feature yet so filled with a sense of menace. I was pleased that Naguib ordered the Nubians to steer the ship closer to land. Even though we had been at sea for little more than two score of days, already our water barrels were all but empty. The thirst of the Beast had been greater than expected and so Naguib began surveying the land in the distance, seeking a likely place to make landfall and seek water and further provisions for the ship.

  And so it was, as the sun fell into the sea and the shadows grew, that we ran our great ship slowly onto the sand of a golden beach, in a small, shallow bay on the southern shores of Maroc. We had chosen the mid tide, knowing that we might safely ground the ship but still sail free with ease when the full tide returned. While Omar the Centurion, Hequaib and several of the Nubians went forth in the dhows to gather food and water, all others began repairs of the ship. We replaced or spliced worn ropes and torn sails, hauling the large pieces of hemp from the lower decks. The animal pens and the Beast’s cages were sluiced with water we hauled from the sea in leather buckets. Hatches were cast open to allow the lower decks some fresh air. And when work had finished many of the crew jumped into the cool waters of the bay.

  It was as I sat with Naguib on the foredeck in the warmth of the early evening, waiting the return of Omar and the Nubians, Naguib chewing his betel leaves, that I asked him of the land of Gond. Where was it? How far must we travel? Was it true that we would be at sea for seven moons? Why must the Beasts be transported so far? And on and on I went until Naguib threw up his hands and said that he would tell me. Naguib told me that he had spoken with the Centurions before we sailed from Heliopolis. He told me of the task they had proposed on behalf of the Pharaoh. The Beasts were to be transported far away, to a land that none other than the Pharaoh had ever seen. And even the Pharaoh had seen it only in his dreams. The Centurions had described it as a land of golden sand and green forests, of rivers of sweet water and bountiful with fish, of birds and other animals so plentiful that the Beast could feed forever and never know hunger, so that it would never again wish to venture into the land of Egypt.

  But how far I asked. When would we return to Heliopolis? Indeed, when would we return to our homes in Memphis? At this Naguib hung his head for he could not say. He did not know how far away lay the land of Gond but he trusted that the Centurions spoke the truth, that we should return home within seven moons. When I pointed to the far horizons of the ocean he looked sad for he knew that what I said was true. Perhaps we would not be returning to our homes within seven moons. Perhaps we would not be returning to our homes for a very long time.

  But it was then that we were interrupted, the rattle of the oars and the curses of Omar the Centurion loud to our ears as he and Hequaib brought the dhows back to the ship. Already we could feel the ship moving as the tide turned so we hastened to assist Omar and the Nubians. They had gathered much water and good food in their search and brought a full load to the ship. The dhows were low in the wat
er with many filled water barrels and baskets of fruit. There was also a number of small dead animals the like of which I had never seen. They resembled a goat but were both taller and less sturdy. One of the Nubians pointed to them and made a sound that sounded like Ran. From that time we called all animals Ran.

  As we unloaded the dhow I saw Omar, Hequaib and Naguib speaking. Omar was red faced and angry and I heard him say to Naguib that Moeses, another of the Nubians, had run off while they searched, and that only two had returned with him. Naguib again took on a sad look and shook his head. We had been at sea not three score of days and nights and already two members of our crew were lost, one man in each of the two days past. It did not auger well. I looked at the others around me and hoped that no more would leave, for the ship was large and, though all were hardy, our tasks would be that much the greater should we lose any more of our comrades.

  * * *

  We sailed south for many days, the wind at our backs, the skies blue and spotted with white clouds, the vast ocean grim and dark, stretching to the far horizons. The sun burned down upon us and each day seemed hotter than the last. The men lay unmoving under the shade of the sails, as did the great Beasts. The goats bawled piteously in their putrid hold, and our daily porridge seemed to have more weevils than ever. Naguib held the ship close to the coast for much of our voyage, only once venturing so far from shore that we could but see the smudge of the land in the distance. We sailed forth as to avoid the wide sandy mouth of a huge river, so vast that even so far from shore, when we cast our buckets into the sea they were filled with fresh water.

  Each day grew hot and bright until the early afternoon, when dark clouds would gather overhead, and bright bolts of lightning split the sky, cracks of thunder so loud that the very air would flutter against our flimsy clothes, the Beasts growling and twitching in their sleep, their red eyes flickering. At the last crack of thunder the heavens opened, the rain so heavy that it poured off the sails above the cages of the Beasts, filling the drinking troughs and sluicing the filth and dirt from the deck. Each afternoon we opened the hatches and allowed the water to pour through, drenching the miserable goats, but also cooling them and cleansing their stalls.

  When we were some four score of days from the Pillars of Hercules the weather began to cool. The days were less bright and the early mornings brought thick sea fog that stayed until the sun rose above us. On these mornings Minkaf’s porridge was very welcome. And in the afternoons it did not rain as much. The nights were also colder, and men began to dress from the store of clothes in the rooms on the second deck. Sandals were replaced with leather boots and leggings, flimsy singlets with leather jackets that laced at the neck and wrist. In but a few days we learned why the strange clothing had been placed in the storeroom.

  Twice on our journey south Naguib took the ship in to land and we sent forth a small group to secure water and other food. These expeditions were led by Omar the Centurion. It was usual for him to take Hequaib and six or seven of the Nubians to assist, and sometimes Mushariff, because all were tall and strong, but on one occasion he allowed Isesi to join them. On their return to the ship Isesi was in great pain and sat upon the foredeck and would not speak with anyone. Hequaib said that Isesi had gone into the bushes to relieve himself and had cleaned his body with the soft leaves of a nearby tree. It was not long before he was scratching and complaining. At last one of the Nubians explained to Omar and Hequaib that Isesi had cleaned himself with the ‘burning leaf’. After speaking with the Nubian, Omar told us that the leaves of this tree were covered with small splinters, as fine as the finest hair, that pierced the skin and caused it to redden and blister. As it is with men from any land, and of any time, Isesi was given little sympathy. Henceforth he became known as ‘Blister Bum’. To this day I smile when I think of it.

  It was at this time that we found what lay within the locked room on the second deck. Many nights had been passed as we lay upon the decks, telling to each other stories of what might lie within, of wealth, of riches, of fine foods and drink, of the softest cloths, of great weapons. On our second landing to seek food and water we saw in the distance some smoke rising above the forest of green. At this, Omar the Centurion and Naguib descended to the second deck, taking Isesi and the Omars and two Nubians with them. There they opened the locked room. Of course we all followed them and crowded near to see what was within the room. The room was long and narrow, crouched along one side of the ship behind the steps that reached down from the upper deck. Each side of the room was lined with large barrels, each barrel secured at the top with a flat wooden lid over which were passed thickly braided cords of hemp, tied and then touched with wax to seal them. Above the barrels were sturdy shelves, each fitted with a panel that could swing back and forth on hinges of bronze. These, too, were sealed with wax.

  We all watched, our breath fast in our chests, as Naguib broke the seals upon the barrel nearest the door. You can imagine our surprise when, as he raised the wooden lid, there spilled forth a torrent of beads of many colours. There were beads of red and black lacquer, beads of green, red and blue, polished stones of different lustres with small holes drilled through their breadth, beads as small as the dot in my eye, beads larger than my biggest toe, beads the colour of the sea, the sunset, the sky, the green of the trees, the dark of the storm clouds, of lapis lazuli, and of the sun flowers of the Nile. So many beads. So many colours. We looked at Omar the Centurion and Naguib in surprise. Naguib laughed and held up his hands as if to plead with us. What of it he said. If there are peoples here that we must barter with to secure our food and water then it is indeed sensible that we have something we can trade.

  When this was explained to us it did indeed seem sensible. But when we opened other barrels we saw that they did not hold beads. We saw fine clothes with pretty stones attached, jars of sweet smelling ointments and creams, finely crafted sandals with gold leaf and beads, bolts of fine cotton, white as sea foam and soft as a maiden’s breast, knives with handles of ivory, their blades of bronze, the Pharaoh’s crest beaten into the metal. I recall that even Naguib and Omar the Centurion paused at this, at the sight of so much wealth. Indeed we had been given much to undertake this journey. And as we looked at the many barrels and the overflowing shelves we realised that truly we carried a great fortune on this ship. I felt a strange disquiet as I gazed at these riches. And I knew as I watched the faces of my comrades that this would be the cause of much unrest. But that came later.

  * * *

  On the day that we saw the smoke above the trees, Omar went forth to seek water and food, carrying with him a number of the leather satchels filled with beads and cloth. When he and the Nubians returned later that day the dhows were overflowing. With barrels of water and bundles of dried meats tied with cords made from grasses, baskets filled with the bright colours of many fruits, and a score of yellow gourds, dried out husks that were filled with a sour broth that smelled of grain but tasted like ambrosia. Omar said that there was a small village on the far side of the trees, and it was from this village that the smoke had come. He said that the inhabitants were a tall people, somewhat like the Nubians in the colour of their skins, but of finer bones and girth, their bodies long and slender. Omar told us that the tall ones were hospitable and kind, and that they did not appear surprised when Omar and the Nubians appeared from the trees. After drinking tea, and eating a mixture of grains and boiled meats, Omar showed the tall ones the empty water barrels and baskets and opened his satchels of beads and cloth. Omar said that the tall ones must have had contact with other traders, as they appeared to know what was required without many words.

  The tall ones were generous. They brought forth fruit and water and dried meats and several dead Ran. And many vegetables. They also gave a basket filled with betel leaves. Omar knew that Naguib would be happy indeed. The Nubians bundled the goods together, tied within pieces of old sail, and attached these to long poles in order that they might be carried by two men. When all goods had b
een bundled and tied to poles Omar handed many satchels of cloth and beads to the leader of the tall ones. Omar said that the tall ones were very pleased, sharing the beads and cloth among themselves and smiling and laughing.

  The goods that Omar purchased from the tall ones were of finest quality, as fine even as those that our leaders had placed within our ship before leaving Heliopolis. And the fruit and vegetables were welcome in a diet that had become, at best, a meal of porridge, dried meats, a handful of nuts and some stale biscuits, leavened on alternate days with the last of our dates. And of course our wine. Some barrels of the wine had soured in the heat as we sailed south, for try as we might, on some days it was so hot on the second deck that even the largest of men might fall senseless to the floor if they stayed too long tending the goats or the provisions. So the yeasty broth contained in the yellow gourds was indeed welcome, and we supped from it that night as we feasted on roasted Ran and baked vegetables that tasted as do the yams of our homeland.

  But there is ever the worm of doubt, the evil Djinn of envy, that lurks in the eyes of men. I have seen it in the bazaars and souqs in Abydos and Memphis, the thin, hungry gaze of they who would steal from you anything of value, a malevolence in their eyes that has always surprised me. Why was it that these men, or sometimes women, looked so? Was it a lifetime of hardship and want that had brought them to this place? Was this indeed the way of the world? That we should prey upon our brothers and sisters and, without care or compassion for their life or their hopes, take from them whatever we wished? Or was it that I, growing up well fed and well tended by my parents, had no knowledge of the life of others? I asked myself how this could make us any more than animals. Indeed, even the animal will care for its young and share its food. But so it was that in the midst of our feasting and laughing, there was a band of men in our midst who could think of nothing but the wealth below decks. And who, as they drank more from the gourds, began to see that wealth as their right. And that all others on board had banded together to deny them that wealth. This is what greed and wine will do to the mind of man, turn it to the evil side and poison it with ill thoughts and deeds.