Day of the False King

by Brad Geagley

  “No!” said Semerket quickly. “No, I was just surprised to hear him speak Egyptian. He only wanted to wash my hands!”

  As if debating whether Semerket spoke the truth, the commander hesitated, then gave a shake of his head. The officers sat back down on the rug, but kept their hands on the hilts of their swords and menace in their expressions.

  “Slave is nothing,” said the commander. “Only Dark Head we capture in battle. We kill later.” He drew his finger across his throat, and laughed.

  The slave hurriedly dried Semerket’s hands with a towel. With his back to the Elamites, he whispered so that only Semerket could hear, again in Egyptian. “Help me, lord,” he said. “I’m a dead man if you don’t prevent it.”

  Semerket’s expression did not change. The soldier next to him passed him the basket of bread. Semerket took a piece and dipped it into the pot of tasty stew. The meat was surprisingly flavorful, though he was unfamiliar with the animal from which it came. He only hoped it was not the flesh of some Dark Head slave.

  “So, Egyptian!” the commander said between mouthfuls. “You are ambassador and friend of Great Rah-may-seeyu. You are rich.”

  “I’m his servant, not his friend.” Semerket scooped some more stew into his bread. All the soldiers’ eyes were hard upon him.

  “Is long way to Babylon,” the commander said, smiling. “Many Isin traitors hide behind rocks. I send men with you tomorrow. Protection for you. In Babylon you must go to my friend, General Kidin. Head of all Elamite forces. Much help to you!”

  “Kidin,” Semerket murmured, noting the name.

  The commander then said something to his soldiers, smirking. His men laughed with him, and turned to regard Semerket with enigmatic expressions. The slave went around the circle of soldiers, wiping their hands on a cloth. When he reached Semerket he whispered, “Beware, sir. He tells his men that you are not destined to reach Babylon.”

  Semerket felt a rush of paralyzing fear surge through his body. These barbarians planned to murder him for the gold they imagined he carried, no doubt to make up for their lack of swag in Mari! He cast about feverishly in his mind for a plan. He did not know the countryside, or even the layout of the city. Semerket’s eyes instinctively found those of the Dark Head slave at the far end of the shed; when their eyes met, there was understanding between them.

  Semerket thrust his legs forward, stretching luxuriantly. Solemnly he thanked the soldiers for sharing their food with him. Then he yawned, feigning great fatigue, saying that he would find accommodations at the ziggurat of Bel-Marduk, even though it might be deserted. Would the escort promised by the commander be ready to leave at an early hour?

  The Elamites nodded vigorously. Yes, they were quite sure they could be ready by then. Semerket noticed the surreptitious glances the men exchanged.

  Semerket rose to his feet, inclining his head in thanks. As he started to the doorway, he turned, as though seized by an incidental afterthought. “You know,” he said, “I was thinking that I’ll need an interpreter. My Babylonian, as you can tell, is very poor. Will you sell me this slave of yours?” He pointed to the fettered man at the hearth. “I’ll give you three—no, five—gold pieces for him. Egyptian gold.” By this, he meant the gold was worth more to them than the debased pieces found in Babylon since their invasion. He fished out the five glinting rings from his belt and saw the sudden hunger in the soldiers’ eyes. “Do this, and I’ll be sure to praise you to your king Kutir.”

  The commander spoke again in Elamite to his men, who readily enough agreed to part with the slave. The slave was no further use to them, and, in any case, they were eager to rejoin the bulk of their army in retreat—

  “I mean ‘in retrenchment,’ ” the commander said quickly.

  Semerket nodded graciously.

  They brought the slave forward and struck the chains from his ankles. Semerket made cheerful farewells to the Elamite soldiers, promising to see them again at first light. The two men left the kitchens rapidly and went into the dark of Mari’s streets.

  When they were out of earshot, Semerket murmured to the slave in Egyptian, “Do you know the city? Can you get us out of here now without being seen?”

  The slave nodded. “The walls to the east have been destroyed. We’ll slip out there, and continue on to the river. They won’t think to look for us if we go in that direction. When they find us missing, they’ll go down the southern route first.”

  It was a good plan, and Semerket willingly agreed to it. “What are you called?” he asked.

  “Marduk.”

  “Like the god?”

  The slave nodded.

  Semerket considered the name a lucky omen.

  MANY HOURS LATER, just as the sky became light, Semerket and Marduk reached a small town of reed-dwellers, perched on a wide estuary of the Euphrates. The villagers greeted Marduk lustily, and he hurried forward to speak with them in a dialect with which Semerket was unfamiliar. After much animated conversation, Marduk returned to where Semerket waited.

  “Give me a gold piece,” he said peremptorily.

  “Why?” asked Semerket, surprised.

  “I’ve bought us a boat so we can take the river down into Babylon. It’s safer than the roads, and faster.”

  Semerket dutifully handed over the gold piece, again admitting to himself that Marduk’s plan was a good one.

  “It was a fortunate day when we met,” Semerket said aloud. “When I think what might have happened to us if you hadn’t been able to speak Elamite…” He shuddered.

  Marduk’s brow lifted in surprise. “What are you talking about? I don’t speak Elamite,” he said.

  Semerket looked at him without comprehension. “But, in the kitchen last night—how could you know that the soldiers meant to kill me today?”

  “I never said that.”

  “You did!”

  “No, lord. I told you that the commander said you were not destined to reach Babylon. However, upon reflection, he may have said something entirely different.”

  Semerket could only sputter, but Marduk held up his hand in an imperious gesture, silencing his protests.

  “I said nothing other than what I had to,” the slave said easily. “The rest you told yourself. But let us forget this misunderstanding and bless the Golden One whose name I bear, for now I have a new master and all is well.”

  Semerket glared at Marduk with narrowed eyes. “I could have had an armed escort all the way into Babylon.”

  “But now you have me. Moreover, I’m certainly far cleverer than they are. You won’t regret it, lord. You’ll see. I’ll keep you safer than any Elamite.”

  As Marduk moved off to confer once again with the villagers, Semerket told himself that here indeed was a trickster race. Never again would he trust anyone in the land of Babylon—particularly those slaves who made such fools of their masters.

  Book Two

  The Gate

  of God

  MARDUK, IN REALITY, HAD NOT PURCHASED A boat; he had merely hired one. Semerket learned of the deception the next morning when Marduk introduced him to a merchant at the river’s edge. The man, a wineseller, had agreed to escort them all the way to Babylon, Marduk told him.

  “And here is our transport,” he announced with a flourish, indicating a vessel floating a few cubits away in the stagnant marsh water.

  Semerket’s eyes widened.

  The thing—it could hardly be called a boat—was made of skins stretched over branches. Perfectly round, possessing no stern or bow, it resembled nothing so much as a gigantic floating disc. Straw covered its insides, on top of which the merchant had piled hundreds of clay wine jars. Its other occupant was a donkey, delicately nibbling the straw.

  “You don’t mean that this thing is what I paid good gold to sail in?” said Semerket.

  Marduk fixed him with a flat eye. “What’s wrong with it?”

  “There’s an ass in it, for one thing!”

  “My lord,” Marduk said, takin
g him aside and whispering, “when you’re in a foreign country, it’s very rude to mock the local customs.”

  “You’re saying my refusal to sail with an ass is rude?” Semerket’s voice was loud in the morning air.

  “I’m saying, my lord,” said Marduk, “that on the Euphrates the traffic goes only from north to south—with the current. When this man and his son reach Babylon, they’ll dismantle the boat and sell its hides. How do you suppose they’ll return to their village if they’ve no donkey?”

  Semerket breathed deeply before he answered. “I don’t mock the custom,” he said carefully. “I’m only saying that I think we should purchase our own boat—one that doesn’t include any livestock.”

  Marduk brushed away Semerket’s words. “Absurd,” he said emphatically. “I don’t know anything about navigating a river. Do you?”

  Semerket took another deep breath. “No,” he admitted.

  Sighing dismally, Semerket carefully climbed into the craft and seated himself in what appeared to be the only space available—next to the donkey. The beast appeared to find him a sympathetic pilgrim, for its lips drew back to form a smile of almost certain joy and it began to butt its head aggressively against Semerket’s thigh.

  Semerket recoiled, but the ass continued to nudge and nip at him until finally he was forced to scratch the beast between its ears. Contentedly exhaling a fetid gust of fermenting hay from deep inside its gut, it rolled against him, hooves thrust in the air so that Semerket might tend all his parts equally.

  “Groom to an ass,” Semerket muttered dolorously to himself.

  Onshore, a crowd some two or three deep had gathered around Marduk. They all called loud blessings on him as he headed to the round boat. Some of the mothers held their children up for his kiss.

  What is this all about, thought Semerket.

  The merchant and his son hurriedly spread rugs to make a soft cushion for Marduk when he came aboard. Semerket, miffed, attempted to claim the seat for himself; he was the master, after all, and it had been his gold that had purchased their accommodations. But nothing could budge the affectionate donkey, and Semerket remained helplessly pinned beneath it.

  It was only then that he raised his head to look out upon the river, and saw that the odd boat had already reached the center of the marsh without his being aware that they had cast away. He was surprised at how steady the vessel was; he had to admit that she took the water well.

  As the wine merchant and his son rowed, one pushing and the other pulling, they navigated easily through the reed-filled estuary toward the main channel of the Euphrates. The sun was hot in the glades, lulling Semerket into a kind of torpor. Having had no sleep the night before, he soon nodded his head.

  He jumped awake, swearing in fright, however, when the donkey began to bray. The beast struggled to rise; almost too late, Semerket realized the animal meant to defecate. He scrambled out of the way just in time to avoid the shower of dung—much to the glee of the Babylonians. But when Semerket attempted to push the animal’s rump over the side, wanting to prevent the donkey from fouling the boat any further, their laughter turned into protests.

  “No, no, my lord,” said Marduk amiably from his seat of honor. “The dung is to be collected and dried in the sun. That way, in a few days we’ll have fuel for a fire when we go ashore. Even scrub wood is too precious to burn in Babylonia.”

  His fellow sailors decided that since the ass had developed such a touching bond with Semerket, it would be his task during their travels to collect and form its dung into bricks. In patient kindness, the merchant’s son showed Semerket how to do it.

  LATER, WHEN HIS MOOD had improved sufficiently, Semerket began a polite inquisition of his new slave.

  “I’m curious,” he said to Marduk. “How did you come to speak Egyptian so well?”

  Marduk considered a moment before he answered. “I lived there for a time,” he said carefully. “In my youth.”

  “From your accent I gather you lived in Lower Egypt?”

  “In Pi-Ramesse, yes.”

  “Ah! Who was your master? Would I know him?”

  “I doubt it.”

  “He must have been a kind man, to see that you were so well educated.”

  Marduk turned away from Semerket to gaze across the river, his glance inscrutable.

  “Is your master still alive?” Semerket continued the inquiry.

  “No.”

  “Did you escape from him?”

  Marduk shook his head, still looking away toward the lavender hills on the eastern horizon. “When my master heard that the Kassite king couldn’t last on Babylon’s throne much longer—and that Elam planned to invade—he freed me. My country needed me more than he did, he said.”

  “But then the Elamites took you prisoner.”

  “Yes.”

  “So you were again a slave.”

  Marduk turned and looked at him fully. For the first time Semerket noted the man’s well-formed features. Marduk’s intelligent brown eyes, contrasting pleasantly with the paleness of his skin, were set far apart and deep, below a smooth high brow. His nose was strong but not beaked, and his lips beneath his mustaches were full. Like most Babylonians, he wore his dark hair long, and though it was now scraggly from neglect, Semerket saw the straightness of his back and the determined set of his shoulders.

  This Dark Head, as the native Babylonians were called, was no man’s slave, and never had been. The fact that Marduk had naturally taken charge of their expedition and ordered Semerket about so highhandedly was testimony to a long habit of command. Why, then, Semerket pondered, should Marduk pretend he was a slave? Some pertinent facts, he sensed, remained unspoken.

  “I don’t believe you are a slave,” said Semerket finally, “or ever were.”

  Marduk was wry. “Yet you nevertheless paid five gold pieces for me.”

  Semerket shook his head sadly. “I’d have done better to throw them to the river god as an offering, for no doubt you’ve already planned when and where you’ll escape.”

  Despite himself, Marduk laughed aloud. He did not confirm or deny Semerket’s accusation.

  “I would ask a favor of you in return, however,” Semerket pressed. “Will you stay with me after we reach Babylon? For just a few days, anyway. I need someone who knows the city well. I’m looking for a person—two, in fact. One of them is my wife.”

  Marduk stopped gazing at the distant hills and turned his incredulous face to Semerket. “Why is she in Babylon, then, of all places?”

  Perhaps it was the fact that Marduk was a foreigner, Semerket later thought, or that he seemed a sympathetic listener, but Semerket divulged everything to him. He described Naia’s banishment, and the reasons behind it. Marduk interrupted him only once—when Semerket told him of the strange message from Rami and how the word slain had appeared near the phrase attacked by Isins.

  “Isins?” asked Marduk sharply. “Are you sure that’s what the message said?”

  “Why? Do you know who they are?”

  Marduk shrugged his shoulders, glancing again toward the shoreline. “They’re a tribe who ruled as kings before the Kassites invaded from the north. Now their fight is with the Elamites. They’re hardly murderers, Semerket—in fact, we native Babylonians regard them as patriots.”

  Semerket snorted derisively. “May the gods preserve me from patriots, for their crimes are always so noble.”

  They spent the rest of the afternoon’s voyage in silence. Semerket gazed out at the vast brown plains that edged the river, an endless sea of furrowed ruts of earth, crosshatched by canals and dotted with waterwheels. The fields rose imperceptibly to become hills, which in turn changed abruptly into tall cliffs and canyons through which the Euphrates snaked. Here the current was markedly fiercer, but the little round boat proved just as steady as she had in the barely stirring marsh waters. River otters gamboled among the reeds, and once Semerket saw a cheetah warily lapping at the water’s edge. At their approach, it turned an
d slunk back into a ravine. Soon enough the canyons gave way again to marshes clotted with reeds. Small at first, the reeds were soon as tall as trees, overhanging the river so that the Euphrates seemed a tunnel of green, filtered light.

  “Like the heavenly fields of Iaru,” Semerket murmured.

  From time to time, Semerket glimpsed black, viscous pools of some bubbling ooze forming at the river’s edge. Once, a black stain crept all the way to the boat itself, glimmering with a dirty iridescence. Semerket pointed at it, asking Marduk what it was.