by Wilbur Smith
They came sailing up the Nile from the delta in line astern. They were astonished to find Pharaoh Rameses and his Chief Minister Lord Taita, half-naked and coated with mud, floundering chin-deep in the Nile and clinging to a few broken planks of wreckage. Their surprise swiftly gave way to hilarity as we were hoisted aboard Ber Argolid’s flagship.
When she saw my sorry state of attire Queen Hagne took me aside and removed her regal gown. Then she offered it to me with the assurance, ‘You need it more than I do, Minister Taita.’
I accepted graciously, more because I wished to appraise her naked bosom than for any other reason. I discovered that Strong-arm Argolid had excellent taste in mammaries; and in retrospect the gown was comfortable and the colour suited that of my eyes, although the sleeves and the hem were a little short. Then Strong-arm and all his officers and wives gathered around us with expressions of the utmost anticipation to hear our tale of woe and disaster. Fortunately I had anticipated this inquisition and I had cautioned my men, including Rameses, to discretion.
‘It was nothing to speak of really,’ I protested with an air of modesty when the question was put to me by Strong-arm.
‘I am sure it was another triumph for you, my lord.’ Queen Hagne batted her eyes at me, leaving me no alternative but to exaggerate a little.
‘Pharaoh Rameses and I decided to cross the river to cut out as many of Utteric’s horses as we could to reduce the number of chariots that he will be capable of fielding, and of course to increase our own numbers.’ I saw Rameses blink and open his mouth to correct me. Then he closed it and nodded cautious agreement.
‘Did you manage to get any of his horses?’ Strong-arm demanded. ‘It doesn’t seem like it to me.’ At this point he guffawed vulgarly.
‘We got a few,’ I demurred with dignity.
‘How many is a few?’ he wanted to know. ‘Five? Ten?’
‘A little more than that,’ I admitted. ‘Just over one hundred and fifty. But the good gods only know how many of them will reach our camp. Of course they bolted as soon as they came ashore on this bank ahead of us. We will certainly have some losses, but we should be able to retrieve most of them.’ I looked at Rameses enquiringly. ‘Do you have anything to add, Pharaoh Rameses?’ He shook his head, overwhelmed by my version of the facts. But Queen Hagne interjected at the appropriate moment.
‘So, that’s how you and your men got yourselves so wet. You had to swim back from the far side of the river with the horses?’ She was a charming and sagacious lady. The more I saw of her the more I liked her. She knew a brave and astute man when she saw one.
‘You understand our predicament, Your Majesty,’ I agreed with her. ‘Of course we had to demolish our own boats. Even though they were of little value, we could not allow them to fall into the hands of the enemy.’
The King of Boeotia in Thebes nodded thoughtfully and the hovering sneer left his lips. Then he called for wine to be served to us by his stewards there on the open deck.
‘This is really an excellent vintage,’ he told me as he abandoned the subject of Rameses’ and my own ingenuity and heroism. Other people’s triumphs soon pall. One’s own little mishaps and miscalculations are best kept to oneself.
With the arrival of Ber Strong-arm Argolid in Hurotas’ camp all sixteen of the royal oath-takers were assembled in one place and the long-delayed second marriage of Rameses and Serrena could at last proceed. I had been the sole guest, participant and functionary of the previous ceremony so I was determined to play as discreet a role as possible the second time around. Serrena had her entire tribe to bolster her, while Rameses had Bekatha who had adopted him and her sons who looked upon him as their brother. They didn’t really need me.
I was able to apply myself to a matter that had given me pause ever since we had sailed from Luxor on the Four Winds with Ganord as the pilot. This was his description of the tribe of superior beings who in antiquity had built and inhabited the ancient city which had once occupied the spot on the opposite bank where Abu Naskos now stood.
I searched my pockets and found the clay tablet of the fish with a golden head which Ganord had given me. I examined it once again minutely. However, it remained beautiful but totally enigmatic. I went down to the river-bank and searched for the Four Winds amongst the small boats and ships anchored here. However, the boatmen told me that the cutter had returned to Luxor while I was chasing wild horses on the western bank of the river. Nobody knew what had happened to Ganord. I showed them the golden-headed fish tile. They agreed that it was interesting but none of them had ever seen anything like it before.
I fashioned a purse out of a tanned otter skin which fitted the tile precisely, and I suspended it on a cord around my neck so that it hung down under my tunic. It gave me pleasure to rub the tile between my fingers while I was ruminating.
Over the next few days I took to strolling along the river-bank alone. But I was never lonely. I am a child of the Nile, but my birth date is obscure. However, I know the Nile was mine from the day of my birth, whenever that might have been. I loved it, and I sensed that it loved me in return.
I found a pleasant spot in the shade of a tree from which I had a view across the wide flow of the river to the fortress of Abu Naskos on the west bank. This was the point where several small islands formed a chain across the Nile. All of them were densely overgrown with ancient trees and lianas. Here the river was about one and a half leagues wide, so the islands were only one quarter of a league apart. I thought that I could probably swim that distance in less than half a turn of an hourglass. I smiled to myself and shook my head; why would I want to do that?
I dismissed the thought and stood up. As usual I held the golden-headed fish tile in my right hand. But this time it stung my thumb. I exclaimed with surprise. It felt almost like a wasp sting, but not as intense. I changed the tile to my other hand and examined my thumb. There was no sign of the sting mark, no inflammation and the discomfort faded swiftly. I thought little more of it and walked back to the camp.
That evening Tehuti insisted that I join her and Hurotas for dinner. Rameses and Serrena were also with them; and I had not seen any of them for a few days. We passed a very pleasant evening together, discussing the impending nuptials.
I was awake early the following morning, before sunrise. I dressed and set off along the towpath beside the Nile. When I reached the spot opposite the chain of islands I took my seat on the same smooth rock as the previous evening. I felt very relaxed and, without thinking about it, I pulled the fish tile out from under my tunic and began to rub it idly. There was a flock of black-headed weaver birds building their hanging nests in the branches above me. I don’t know how long I watched them, but I started to feel hungry and I realized I had not yet eaten any food that morning.
I stood up and the tile stung me so sharply that I dropped it and sucked my finger. It dangled on its cord against my chest. That was when I realized for the first time that the tile was imbued with esoteric powers. I touched it again with one finger. There was no reaction at all. I rubbed it between my thumb and forefinger, anticipating another unpleasant sting. There was still no reaction. But I had lost my appetite. I was engrossed with considerations other than food.
I changed my seat so the sunlight fell directly upon the tile. I studied it as though it was the first time and I had never seen it before. I counted the scales on the body of the fish. I examined the fins and flowing tail as minutely. I could detect no further arcane sense or meaning. Then I examined the reverse side of the tile. There were no scratch marks or the slightest indication of hieroglyphs or cuneiform lettering. As I rotated it again I noticed something that had escaped my attention up until that moment when I turned it at an angle to the sunlight. There were a number of minute dimples in the background, behind the silhouette of the fish. They could have been made with the point of a sharp needle before the clay was fired in the oven. As I changed the angle of the light they disappeared. Then they reappeared as I moved it back in th
e opposite direction.
I counted these irregularities. There were four of them: two behind the fish’s tail and two ahead of the nose. I pondered the significance of them, but I could still find none. This spoiled my mood. I knew that I must be missing something. It made me hungry again. I ran back to the camp and went around to the kitchen area. The cooks had some cold sausages left over from the midday meal. They were greasy and over-salted, but I ate them in defiance of the gods who I sensed were making me their buffoon, and not for the first time.
Disconsolately I wandered back to my rock beside the river, where I sat belching up the unpleasant memories of my sausage. Once again I pulled the fish tile out from under my tunic. I held it up to the sun, turning it so the four dots appeared and disappeared. I lowered the tile and looked out across the Nile River.
I stared at the string of small, almost identical islands stretched out across the green waters to the far bank. But they were unrelated to my mystery … or were they?
I felt a small chill of excitement strong enough to raise the hair on my forearms as I realized that there were four almost identical islands in the river, the same number as there were dots on the ceramic tile. It was a tenuous and feeble link, but four is the magical number of Inana, and Inana is my guardian goddess. I knew that I had to pay a visit to at least one of the four islands.
I could take a boat, and be on the first island in under an hour. But I knew that there were hostile eyes watching from the walls of the fortress on the far side of the river. I could swim faster than I could row a boat, and seen from across the river my head would not seem much larger than that of an otter’s. I began to shed my clothing before my thoughts were fully defined.
I moved up the bank of the river, keeping well back from the water’s edge so I would not be noticed from the walls of Abu Naskos. When I had the nearest island directly in line with the fortress I moved to the river-bank and slipped into the water until it reached to my chin. I paused to check my equipment. I had my knife belt strapped over my loin-cloth. I drew the knife from its sheath and tried the point and the edge against my thumb. It was wickedly sharp. I slipped it back into its sheath. Then I adjusted the cord of the purse which contained the ceramic tile so that it hung down my back, rather than dangled down my chest where it could wrap around my arms with every stroke I took.
I pushed off from the bank and set off for the nearest island, making sure that I never broke the surface with the stroke of my arms or a kick of my legs. I had to angle sharply upstream against the current to keep my head aligned with the island and the fortress beyond it.
When I reached the island I grabbed hold of a liana which hung out over my head and stretched down with my feet to find the bottom. This was my first surprise. There was no bottom. The bank of the island fell vertically into the depths of the river. I hung on to the liana while I drew several deep breaths. Then I released my hold and swam down like a diving wild duck. I peered down through the limpid water, expecting at any moment to see the loom of the bottom. At last I was forced to abandon the attempt as my lungs started to ache and heave.
When I burst out through the surface, I grabbed the hanging liana again and sucked my lungs full of sweet air. When I recovered I swam across to the sheer wall of rock which made up the bank of the island. With the help of the roots and branches I scrambled up the rock wall and reached the flat top of the island. I sat there while I got my bearings and reorientated myself. Then I pushed my way through the dense undergrowth and followed the lip around until I returned to my starting point.
I realized that the island was shaped like the stump of a tree, rather than having the usual flattened pancake silhouette. Both beneath the surface and above it was straight up and down. The top was circular and flattened. It was unlike any other island I had ever known. I was intrigued by it, but the dense vegetation made it difficult to be certain of the exact shapes and dimensions. I started to cross it from side to side, clambering over fallen trees and trying to dig down with my bare hands to reach bedrock. However, the roots of the trees and plants were interwoven. I hacked at them with my knife but to little avail. They were hardened with age.
I sensed that there had to be something extraordinary hidden here. The goddess Inana and I have a strange relationship, but I have learned that I can usually rely on her. She has never cheated me; or at least not to my knowledge. After another hour or so I had to rest again. I sank down with my back to the base of a wild fig tree.
‘So what did you expect to find here?’ I asked myself. I often speak aloud to myself when I am alone. I pondered the question. Then I replied carefully, ‘I expected nothing. But I hoped for a sign or a message from the Old People.’ By the Old People I meant those who had lived here in antiquity.
‘Like another prick on the finger?’ The question was spoken in my voice, but not by me. I looked about me in wild surmise, and I saw her. She was standing amongst the trees at the edge of my vision. She was just another shadow among shadows. However I knew it was she.
‘Inana!’ I said her name, and she laughed – as clearly as a bell and as sweetly as a nightingale. Then she spoke again, but this time in her own ineffably lovely voice.
‘If you cannot see where you look, then look where you can never see.’ She laughed again and then she faded away. I sprang to my feet and reached out with both hands towards her, but she was gone.
I knew it was futile to run and call after her. I had done that so many times before. I sank down again on the spot where I had been sitting. I felt bereft.
Then I felt something prick me sharply. I reached behind me, between my naked buttocks. There was something hard and sharp as a shark’s tooth sticking into my secret flesh. I took it between my fingers and drew it out, grimacing at the sharp pain.
Holding it gingerly I brought it around in front of my eyes and stared at it. I felt my heart jump and my blood thrill in my veins. I reached over my shoulder and found the leather purse in which I had stowed the perfect ceramic fish tile given to me by Ganord.
I laid the undamaged tile on the palm of my hand, and then I placed the sharp fragment which I had retrieved from between my buttocks beside it. The fragment was an identical match to the corner of the whole tile.
However, where it had been broken off the point was as sharp as a needle, and wet with a smear of blood from my posterior. At the other end it widened into the head of the golden fish that I knew so well.
I placed the fragment on top of the original whole tile, and the two merged perfectly. They had been struck in the same mould, perhaps a thousand years previously.
I saw this as an indication that the Old People had been here before me, and were here again. I knew that they were trying to tell me something of importance. I took the whole tile in one hand and the fragment in the other, and I focused all my attention on them. Nothing changed for a while, and then gradually the four dots in the background of the whole tile became more intense and seemed to glow like tiny stars.
‘Four!’ I whispered the number aloud. I knew that I was close to a solution. ‘Four, not one or two …’ I broke off as I saw the meaning. ‘They are reminding me that there are four islands, not just one. If the solution is not on the first island I must search for it on the other three!’
I thrust the whole tile and the fragment back into the leather purse and then jumped to my feet and made my way to the western side of the tiny island. From there I peered across the river at the other three islands and the towers of the fortress of Abu Naskos. Almost immediately I ducked lower into the dense undergrowth. There were two enemy guard boats circling the island closest to mine. They had two sets of oars a side, and a pair of men on each oar. The masts of their boats were bare of sails, but they had a pair of archers in the crosstrees. These had arrows nocked and ready to loose, and they were scanning the undergrowth of the second island. Even as I watched the nearest guard boat altered course and headed directly towards me. I crawled away and as soon as I was screened by
the vegetation I jumped to my feet and ran to the opposite side of the island and dived off the sheer cliff. Immediately I surfaced I struck out for Hurotas’ camp. It seemed that the enemy had known I was there, and were searching for me, but I could not be certain. It may have been a mere coincidence.
It was an easy swim and I used the time to review what I had seen and learned while I was on the first island. There were two things that were significant and to which my mind kept returning. The first was the unusual shape of the island. The second was the fragment of green ceramic which had stabbed into my buttocks, and which was such an exact match to part of the tile that Ganord had given me before he disappeared into the south again.
I kept turning these two anomalies over in my mind as I swam. I was about halfway back to the east bank and Hurotas’ camp when the first possibility, or should I rather say when the first improbability occurred to me. It was so bizarre that I shouted the words aloud. ‘Could the island have been built by ancient man to a design, rather than being shaped arbitrarily by random nature?’
I swallowed a mouthful of Nile water in my excitement, and had to tread water to cough it up. By that time I was ready with my second improbability: ‘And if that is so, then did ancient man also build the other three islands to the same plan? And if so why did he do such a preposterous thing?’
I swam on, still pondering my third improbability. Once again Ganord gave me the answer. ‘Could it be because he wanted to be able to cross the river swiftly and secretly; as if by witchcraft?’ I stopped swimming and trod water as I realized the enormity of my supposition. I was considering the possibility of ancient man going beneath the waters of the Nile, rather than over the top of them by boat or bridge. I am prone to odd notions such as these. I have even contemplated the possibilities of man being able to fly. I admit that I rejected that fantasy after reluctantly conceding that it would not be feasible for him to grow wings. However, I knew that I was able to dive to the bottom of the river. I had demonstrated that ability within the last hour. But even my mind baulked at crossing from one bank of the Nile to the other on a single breath of air. The distance was almost one and a half leagues. Of course, it is not possible to measure accurately distance over water, or the speed of a ship, or for that matter the speed of a swimming man. I was still pondering the possibilities when I reached the eastern bank of the river just downstream from Hurotas’ camp.
