Egypt

by Nick Drake

  I walked back quickly to the ship, wondering exactly what I had seen on the far side of that wall.

  14

  I could not sleep for what remained of that night. The half-moon hung low in the sky like a white ship’s hull in an ocean of stars. At last the air was fresh and cool. The incessant irritation of the mosquitoes had finally died away. Before dawn, our ship departed and sailed silently down the river, until Bubastis and its miseries disappeared behind us. I stood at the prow of the ship facing into the darkness, gazing at the glory of the late stars; and suddenly, inexplicably, my spirits lifted.

  Everyone rose early. Just before dawn, Simut called me to a meeting in Nakht’s cabin. As soon as I entered, I knew he had kept his promise and said nothing about our little adventure, for Nakht greeted me calmly. I nodded respectfully to Ambassador Hattusa. His two bodyguards stood behind him, as always, loyal as shadows.

  ‘The ambassador and I have concluded we will take the land route north, rather than the sea route along the coast. There are no ports or natural harbours to put in along the southerly stretches of the coast of Canaan; also, the danger of storms and tides, and of pirates, is too great to risk. The Way of Horus, however, is always busy, and we will not stand out among the merchants, caravans of goods and people, and military convoys. All along the route the way stations and Egyptian garrisons will provide us with security, accommodation and food each night,’ said Nakht.

  Simut and I nodded. It was much the best plan.

  ‘We need to accomplish this part of our journey as quickly as possible, so as to arrive in the port city of Ugarit in the Kingdom of Amurru within twenty days. As you will know, Ugarit is loyal to neither Egypt nor Hatti, so we must take great care. But we have a good contact in the city, a merchant of Egyptian birth, who will provide secure accommodation. The ambassador also has his own connections in the city, and will be accommodated by them. From Ugarit a ship will be commissioned to carry us to the south coast of Hatti. From there we will proceed overland towards the Hittite capital of Hattusa.’

  The ambassador assented with a brief nod of his proud head, and took up where Nakht left off: ‘Security for Egyptian travellers becomes far less reliable in the far north, of course, but it is written in our laws that safety must be guaranteed by towns and districts to merchants, envoys and their entourages–on pain of punishment by law. However, we must also consider the other danger ahead of us: the chance of random attacks by bandits, who could rob us of the precious gold you carry as a royal gift for my lord, the Hittite King. I cannot be responsible for such eventualities,’ he said.

  ‘My men have been trained to respond to them with force,’ replied Simut.

  ‘And what of General Horemheb?’ asked Hattusa. ‘I am well aware of the threat he poses as we travel through the regions of the wars.’

  ‘He is unaware of us,’ replied Nakht quickly. ‘I have excellent, up to date intelligence.’

  ‘I hope your intelligence is reliable,’ replied the ambassador. ‘It would be highly damaging if the letters from your Queen were to fall into the wrong hands.’

  Nakht nodded.

  ‘Such an eventuality has been considered, and all possible precautions have been taken against it,’ he said.

  There followed a moment of tense silence.

  ‘You and your guards will be under my command when we enter Hittite territory,’ said Hattusa imperiously.

  Simut glanced at Nakht, who nodded discreetly.

  ‘Yes, my lord,’ he replied. I could tell he wasn’t happy about that.

  It was still dark when we finally disembarked from the ship at Avaris, the easternmost town on the border of Egypt and the unknown. Once upon a time this had been a great port; but it had fallen into near-dereliction as the docks of Memphis grew in stature and importance. In recent years, however, Horemheb had made it once again a key port for the military, and for this reason we had avoided it for as long as possible, and would leave it immediately.

  Even though it was not yet light, the place was alive with activity. The ruins of the old citadel had been turned into vast storage areas and warehouses. Teams of builders and labourers were already working in the cool, moonlit hours of late darkness on a vast new structure of offices and accommodation for the army. Battalions of infantry soldiers were housed in camps, and there were rows of stables for the horses of the elite chariotry. Caravans of merchants and goods from the north waited impatiently to board their ships home with relief and delight; while, travelling in the other direction, hundreds of other merchants on business outside Egypt were just beginning their great journeys. Everyone’s breath plumed in the sweet, cold air. Men yawned widely, rubbed their hands together, and beat their arms against their sides to keep warm as they took refreshments of bread and beer, or bought final necessities at the stalls doing excellent trade all along the open square that marked the start of the Way of Horus. Everyone was taking advantage of these cold early hours, before the heat of the day made progress too uncomfortable. It was a strange sight to see so many carriages and wagons setting off in the moonlight, alongside a few lone riders–commercial, or perhaps military, messengers–on fresh horses setting off swiftly on their private business north.

  Our team set off–Nakht, Simut and myself on horseback. Like any other affluent merchant, Ambassador Hattusa travelled in a shaded palanquin. Chariots carried our necessities, guarded by Simut’s men, who jogged easily alongside as if they undertook such exertions every day, their shields over their shoulders, their weapons in their hands, like the other teams of commercial bodyguards. Quickly, the chaos and activity of Avaris disappeared behind us, and all around the green cultivation lay in shadows and vast silence. The stars soon began to fade and the sky was just beginning to change from black to blue when, suddenly, the cultivation all around us ended, and the desert began. As dawn broke, and Ra rose above the horizon, returning light and life to the world, I saw rolling into the distance the famous Way of Horus, its red earth trodden down into a hard, wide, reliable surface by the feet of the countless men and soldiers who had marched it since the long-ago days of the King Tuthmosis I. This was the moment of no return; from here onwards, we crossed the border of the Two Lands into the lands of the Levant. Despite the anxieties of the journey, we were all suddenly alert. Nakht waved his hand in the air, and with the assent of Ambassador Hattusa, we began the next stage of our journey on into the heart of the unknown.

  ‘What is in your satchel?’ I asked Nakht, after we had ridden for some time. The sun had risen quickly on our right, and the cold of the night had vanished immediately from the air. It was already hot.

  ‘Important letters and documents,’ he replied. ‘If anything goes wrong, I will destroy them before they can be seized.’

  ‘Can I see one?’ I asked.

  He showed me a small clay tablet, covered with tiny, incomprehensible angled marks.

  ‘What sort of documents are they?’

  ‘Diplomatic letters, and so on. But most importantly, the private letter from the Queen herself, addressed to Suppiluliuma, the King of the Hittites, remains securely locked in my trunk.’

  He paused, and added confidentially, ‘I composed it myself, on her behalf…’

  ‘You write letters for the Queen of Egypt?’

  He nodded, acknowledging my admiration.

  ‘In these strange marks?’ I asked.

  ‘Those strange marks, as you call them, are Akkadian. It has been the lingua franca of the world for as long as anyone can recall. The Babylonians and the Assyrians both spoke it, variously. But now it is mostly a written language, used by high-level officials in international exchanges regarding politics and diplomacy between the Great Empires.’

  ‘Why isn’t Egyptian used? Isn’t it the greatest of the languages?’ I said.

  I knew Nakht would enjoy the chance to expostulate on this subject.

  ‘Egyptian is the most complex and subtle of all modern languages, but despite its obvious superiority, it
would not be politic to impose it upon everyone, or indeed to have it become widely known outside the Two Lands. Akkadian is useful for a number of reasons. Firstly it means all diplomatic exchange has to be conducted in a mutually foreign tongue. The advantages of this are obvious–neutrality of expression, minimal ambivalence, equality of articulation, and an absence of confusing metaphor or hidden meaning. And the formality is recognized and understood everywhere. Kings, no matter how much they despise each other, are always “brothers”. The royal household is the “house”. Empires are big “families”, with the rivalries, jealousies and warm concord common to all ordinary families. Negotiations, treaties, marriage arrangements, exchange of gifts and services, are all managed in this apparently simple metaphor of familial relationship. And, of course, it is a guarantee of status: those lands and so-called kings who cannot communicate in Akkadian simply forfeit the right to join in the company of those who can. They are, literally, barbarians.’

  I thought about that.

  ‘So I suppose it functions like a code, for you must be highly educated to be able to decipher it,’ I suggested. ‘And without this old language, which no one speaks any more, there might be no stability, and no order in our international affairs?’

  Nakht smiled.

  ‘Exactly so. Although I sometimes wonder whether language alone is powerful enough to vanquish Seth and his forces of disruption. But that is the dilemma of the world today. The enlightenment against the dark forces of chaos…’

  ‘Is it so clear?’ I asked. ‘Can human affairs be divided so simply? Is there not a realm between those two absolutes, where in truth we all live?’

  ‘Our times are a struggle between the light of Osiris and the darkness of Seth,’ he replied, quietly and with absolute conviction. ‘How are you feeling these days?’ he added, suddenly solicitous.

  ‘I feel grief. But the rage for revenge has gone,’ I lied.

  ‘It is just as well. Revenge only destroys the revenger. That is its tragedy,’ he said.

  We lapsed into silence. The only sounds were the breeze rustling the scrub and the gritty sand, the clanking of our wagons, and the repetitive clip-clop of our horses. The way wound ahead into the shimmering heat of distance, dotted here and there with tiny figures of travellers, and their diminished shadows. I wondered again how quantities of opium could possibly be transported across these vast distances.

  ‘It is extraordinary to think of the complex system of trade routes which reach from Egypt to the furthest parts of this world,’ I said. ‘And how vital they are to our modern way of life, now.’

  He glanced at me, wondering about this change of subject.

  ‘I know you very well, my friend, so rather than speculating hazily on the way of the world, why don’t you say what is really on your mind?’

  ‘Perhaps you will not like the subject,’ I replied.

  ‘If I dislike the subject, I will not feel the need to answer you,’ he said coolly.

  ‘Well, I suppose all these busy and profitable routes of trade and high-level communication must also permit the exchange of other, more clandestine or illegitimate businesses and goods,’ I said.

  ‘I fail to see where this is leading,’ he said quietly.

  ‘The value of anything depends upon demand, and if it is illegal or subject to taxation then even more so. So, take opium as an example. There is a proper and legal trade for the medical profession and the temples. But there is also now a new trade that makes fortunes, perpetuates violence and creates disorder in the cities–a black market, so to speak. What if someone has seen this as a huge business opportunity, and taken advantage of it?’

  ‘Perhaps they have,’ replied Nakht. ‘But I am not sure I understand your point…’

  I drew a deep breath, to focus my thoughts.

  ‘Obviously, to set up a chain of supply over such huge distances requires a complex system of interdependent parts, that communicate with each other in a reliable but covert manner. Communication and secrecy are the most important and powerful aspects of that system. But it strikes me that that also applies equally to the army–or, for instance, to the palace.’

  I let that hang in the air.

  ‘Now, be very careful,’ he said, giving nothing away. ‘Is this what you have been pondering all this time?’

  I nodded.

  ‘I am thinking there must be networks of agents in all the key cities and ports… I am thinking the Way of Horus would be the most obvious route for transportation. I am wondering if your intelligence network might not have picked up on some aspects of this…’

  Nakht stared at me for a strange little moment.

  ‘My friend, I must give you some advice. I hope you will heed it carefully, for it is given with great thought and weight of consideration. It would be wise for you to put away such thoughts. It would be wise never to speak of such things again.’ He said these words quietly but very clearly.

  But then his expression changed from coldness to a dawning wonder. He was gazing ahead, a look of open amazement now on his face, the way he used to look when he was younger, before he became the royal envoy, before he became a great man of the world. I turned to look in the same direction and my eyes were dazzled by a great and glorious brilliance. The sea.

  I know the sea is made of water, but surely it is made of light, too; for it danced with brilliance, turning one sun into thousands of points of sparkling, ever-changing light. We stood together, our hands shading our eyes as they feasted upon the wonderful vision. I wanted to remember everything, to tell my family what I had seen and felt: the tang of salt in the air, and on my skin; the compelling repetition of the gentle waves that arrived, scrambling up the shore, and then failing, falling back, over and over. And above all the dazzle of light, a wild shower of daylight stars, like a god revealing himself to this world.

  Simut and I approached the water’s edge. We kicked off our dusty sandals like children, and let the water wash over our dirty feet. It was such a curious sensation! Both deliciously cool, and enlivening. The guards remained standing on a low bluff of sand, staring away, as if pretending to be disinterested–although they, too, must have greatly desired to join us.

  Nakht at first refused to approach the waters, but I would not allow him to desist; so I playfully encouraged him, and he finally relented, hesitating as the waves slapped gently, coolly, at his ankles. And so we stood there, in the dazzling morning sun, the three of us, the Royal Envoy to All Foreign Lands, the Commander of the Palace Guard, and myself, Rahotep, Seeker of Mysteries become bodyguard to the royal envoy, laughing with pleasure, up to our knees in the incandescent sparkle of the sea.

  15

  We quickly accustomed ourselves to the repetitive rhythm and routine that was necessary for covering the great distances involved. We rose in the dark, travelled under the late stars, and reached the next way station, with its supplies and security, before the sun reached its zenith, to eat, rest and–where there was a water tank–wash. Pairs of young soldiers, lounging in the shade of their little huts, and army units near the villages and towns also guarded the way. Nakht’s documentation always carried us immediately through these checkpoints; as soon as they saw it, we were waved on with a brief salute of respect. I remained close to him at all times, scanning the landscape and the horizon for any signs of danger, conscious of my responsibility for his safety.

  It was the harvest season; local farmers sold baskets of olives, grapes and pistachios, as well as mounds of wheat and barley at the side of the road. We were well-attended and fed with friendliness and respect. By midday the air grew impossibly hot, but a wind from the sea in the evenings–and a vivid breeze from the highlands at night–cooled the air wonderfully. I felt both exhausted and light, and I slept strangely, with powerful dreams that left a strange sad taste in my mouth. I woke often, because we were always alert. I remembered my family, and my home, and my heart ached for them; but they also seemed small and distant. Often, as I looked ahead into
the distances yet to be conquered, or behind along the way we had travelled, the air shimmered with mirages. Out of these, caravans and horse riders arose to meet us, greeting us cautiously, and then continued on south. A strange sensation of unreality gradually took hold of me; I felt the darkness in my blood changing into something lighter, as if every step away from Egypt was turning me into a different man. Into a stranger; a man without a home.

  We were soon travelling through a much less hospitable, much more remote, part of northern Canaan; here the few villages that served the Way of Horus were poor and squalid. The great fertile agrarian hinterland to the east had given way to barren highlands, grey and green and white, that encroached close to our path. Beyond them, in the clear distance, I glimpsed mountains far greater than any I had ever seen in Egypt. Instead of farmers, we mostly encountered shepherds and their straggling herds of goats, grazing on the sparse scrub that now covered the landscape. And as we passed through the increasingly impoverished villages, I noticed glances of undisguised unfriendliness, and the abusive chatter of unseen children in a language we could not understand. Sometimes stones from unseen assailants would land near us from a hideout of rocks or grasses.

  And as we continued onwards I began to be haunted by the skin-crawling instinct that we were being followed, traced by unseen figures hiding just out of sight. Every gnarled tree, every rock, every derelict hovel seemed to suggest danger; my dagger was constantly in my hand. I might have thought myself paranoid, had I not also noticed the same tension in our guards; they, too, held their weapons ready, and their arrows primed in their bows. Hattusa’s two bodyguards never left his side, and I was Nakht’s shadow. So a few days later, when the next way station, with its familiar square mud-brick walls, and central lookout tower, finally rose up out of another of the mirages and became real, we were all quietly relieved.