by Andre Norton
“Listen, you.” The merchant took a stand directly before Sherkarer. “It is said that the heart of a god is as far away as the center of heaven. Even farther will you find the mercy of him you are to serve here, if you disobey. I could have left you to be eaten by the vultures now feasting in Napata. For if you think that the soldiers of the true Pharaoh would have allowed you who wear that mark”—he pointed to the tattoo—“to live long you are stupid. That you are not dead is by my choice, and that you continue to live is also by my will. You live for but one reason: you helped bring the sirrush to Napata, and so you know more of it than any man still living. What you know you shall tell us, and the keepers of the sirrush shall you serve.”
So Sherkarer became a part of the temple of Marduk-Bel, attached to the three priests chosen to attend the sirrush. And he used his new position as best he could.
The temple was like a city in itself, with many courtyards and buildings. The rich inner chapel was overlaid with gold, wherein stood the images of Marduk and his wife, Saparatum (together with smaller statues of their attendants), with no sparing of either precious metal or jewels. But into that room only the Great King and the highest ranking of the priests might enter.
In one of the courtyards those in command of the sirrush partially roofed over a pool with a matting of daily-refreshed reeds and vines. There they housed their dragon, bringing vegetation to tempt the monster. But it was sluggish and showed only faint interest in its surroundings. Sherkarer, to preserve his image of one expert on dragon matters, squatted on the border of the pool, though the foul odor of the creature made him sick, for hours at a time, as if it were important that he keep strict vigil.
Twice he had seen the young man Daniel, though they had not spoken together again. But he learned from the slaves how much he was hated by the priests. It was true that he had been a war captive, even as Sherkarer, coming from a small country to the west. It had been the whim of Ashpezaa, the Vizir, to select certain of the fairest of the captive children to be raised in his service. And among those Daniel was the leader.
Strange tales were told of him: that he had been put into the den of the King’s lions, after those had been kept hungry, yet none had touched him. He had challenged the priests and had proved that no god came at night to touch the sacrifice left on the altar; rather, it was taken away by men who left plain tracks in the ashes Daniel had caused to be strewn secretly before the altar.
Now Nebuchadnezzar, the Great King, listened to Daniel and his talk of a single God who held all power. And therefore the priests sought a way of pulling him down.
Several times the High Priest himself, as great a power within this sprawling temple town as the King was without, sent his chief scribe to look upon the sirrush and talk privately with its keepers. Sherkarer did not doubt they were hatching some plan in which the dragon was to play a part. But he was well aware now that upon the sirrush depended his own life. He had no value to his captors except that he knew, or rather pretended to know, more about the monster than they did.
And he was a prisoner indeed in the compound which housed it, for there were always guards by the single gate. No one came or went save that he carried a tablet impressed with the High Priest’s seal.
It was on the tenth day after Sherkarer had been taken to the temple that one of the slaves, come to clear away the withered vegetation of the pool screen and bring a new supply, appeared to stumble to one knee by Sherkarer. Something small flew from his hand, came to a stop beside the Nubian’s sandal. When the man did not move to reach for it, Sherkarer set his foot upon it. After the slave was gone he stooped as if to tighten the ankle thong of his footwear, and his fingers closed upon what the other had lost.
His heart gave such a leap as he looked upon what lay cupped in his palm, yet he was afraid he might have betrayed himself. Yet, as he hastily looked around, there was no one near save the slave laborers, and the temple overseer was watching only them.
A precious thing out of the past, a part of what must have been the loot of Napata—a lapis scarab bearing the name of Piankhay himself. Why? Were there more Nubians here in Babylon? Men who had heard of Sherkarer, though he did not know of them? If so, they must also be slaves—yet they had taken the risk of trying to reach him.
He saw that the same slave who had dropped the scarab was returning. There was no chance to question him. The man had scooped up an armload of the rotting stuff, and as he passed Sherkarer a wisp of it shifted out of his load.
The Nubian kicked it to one side, wondering how he could discover what he must know from the messenger. Then he saw that one of the reeds was fresher, greener, than the rest—and had marks upon it. He kicked at it again, sending it from the side of the pool into some shade, and went there to sit cross-legged, watching the workmen as he had done many times before. His hands closed upon that piece of reed; he began to twist it idly this way and that.
All the while he was straining to read those marks. At last he made out a few signs. They were rudely scratched, written as if someone who knew only a little court Egyptian had made them. That did not mean that a fellow Nubian could not have written them. Very few except court scribes could any longer write so with ease.
“Midday—west wall—water channel—” He thought that was the message.
There was a water channel at the foot of the left wall, a pipe laid down through which the water of the pool could be drained if necessary. At midday the courtyard would be near-deserted, since all sensible men sought the cool and shade of the thick-walled inner rooms. Sherkarer found himself swallowing; moisture filled his mouth as well as standing in beads upon his forehead and upper lip and making the palms of his hands slippery.
Escape—surely this must mean escape! And though he had seen no chance for that, perhaps others had been more fortunate. Who could they be? Some of the guard who had survived the storming of the Candace’s palace, even some of her nobles? Those who knew his high birth might be willing to risk much for him. It could even be, if the Pharaoh had not reached the safety of Meroë, that Sherkarer’s own family now ruled Nubia. Such speculations made him restless, so that he could not sit and wait, but arose and walked around the edge of the pool. The waters were murky, evil-smelling, as always, and the sirrush-lau had sunk to the bottom, seeking a hiding place from the light which struck in while the matting was being replaced.
The Nubian tried to measure by the shadows how much time it might be before his appointed meeting. He fought down his excitement and he was lucky in that there was no senior priest on duty. The others were so used to his daily inspection of the pool, which he made last as long as possible to suggest his special knowledge, that they no longer watched him.
He ate alone, as usual, for here he was neither slave laborer nor freeman. So he drew his ration of barley-meal porridge, radishes, a few figs, and today an onion. These he ate very quickly, hardly able to choke down the mouthfuls.
Midday—and the courtyard was empty. Sherkarer walked to the pool, appearing to check on the new matting roof. He could hear from beyond the wall the trumpeting of an ill-tempered elephant. The sound carried well, since the usual hum of the temple and the city had died away. A swift glance told him he was unobserved as he came to the drain, squatting down there to look as if he suspected some trouble with the water supply.
“You are there?” A voice came hollowly out of the ground.
But the three words were enough to disappoint the Nubian. No countryman of his would speak so; his own hard-learned knowledge of this language carried with it an accent, and he was sure that the same would be true of any Nubian.
“I am here,” he answered, wanting to solve the mystery of who had sent a royal scarab, pricked a message on a reed.
There was a grunt, as if whoever lay there was trying to shift position in cramped quarters. Then the other spoke again. “Have you thought of the words of Daniel, Nubian?”
Daniel! Was that court intriguer still trying to draw him into some
plot against the priests?
“He who asks questions cannot avoid answers in turn”—Sherkarer repeated a country saying as he tried to think fast. “Who are you who hide in the ground to speak of Daniel?”
“One who is his ears and sometimes his mouth, when there is need for it, Nubian.” But the voice was impatient now. “I ask again—have you thought upon his words?”
“Why should I, hidden one? One who runs alone cannot be outrun by another. I live because the sirrush lives, and they believe that I know that which keeps it so.”
“Would you then choose to remain here as a slave to a stinking monster when you could be free and on the trail back to your own country?”
“Restless feet may carry one into a snake pit—”
“I have no time to trade wise sayings with you, Nubian! This is an offer, take it or throw it away. Support Daniel that he may win the full favor of the King, or else remain as you are until your monster dies and you have no longer a place here. Daniel forgets not those who stand with him—and the might of the Great King’s seal reaches across the world. He can win your freedom and an open road to your own land.”
“If he can do this,” retorted Sherkarer, “then why has he not done so for himself? He said with his own mouth that he is captive here. One falsehood spoils a thousand truths, hole lurker!”
“There is laid upon Daniel a task, set by the Lord God Jehovah—that he abide here to soften the heart of the Great King toward our people. He chooses Babylon to serve.” The voice sounded so much in earnest that the Nubian’s doubt was shaken.
“A man can promise the world, yet when the time comes he may be unable to give even a pinch of dust. You would dangle the hope of freedom and Meroë before me as one coaxes a donkey with a bunch of fine grass—yet the eating of that grass may never come.”
“How long will your monster live, Nubian? Measure your own life-span by its! If it dies here, will the priests let the blame rest upon them? Not when they have a slave to name.”
That was a hard truth which hit home as might a well-aimed arrow. The creature was sluggish and had been showing less and less activity lately. It could well be that the thing would not live long here. And of course he would get the blame when it died. His own efforts to be considered an expert on the care of the sirrush would stand against him then.
“What does Daniel want of me?” he asked. There was no harm in knowing that much.
“Tell him what the creature feeds upon most readily. He has challenged the priests, that he may slay the dragon by his will alone, using no sword, or spear, or arrow—And he has but two days in which to make ready. Does the creature attack men?”
“If it is angered, yes. And it can slay, easily and in a horrible fashion. Two days ago it was alarmed by the braying of a donkey that brought in the guards’ beer. It tore the poor beast to pieces.”
“Can the priests incite it to such behavior?”
“They might.” Sherkarer was not sure how, but he believed that the priests would make a challenge from Daniel an excuse to do their utmost to see that he died as the result of his folly.
“Then—what does it feed upon most readily? Can you find a bit of that?”
“There is a reed root which it seeks out first among that offered it. I do not know the name but—”
“Get a handful of it. Have it ready tomorrow and lay it in the matting to be taken away. On the next day, in the morning, when the fodder is brought, there will be in it a ball with those roots fixed to its outer part. See that this is ready near the top of the creature’s food pile.”
“And if I do?” But there was no answer, though Sherkarer took the chance of lying flat and calling softly through the grating of the drain. Whoever had been there was now gone. He went back to his own quarters to think.
The unseen person had promised much. But it all depended upon if’s—if he was able to supply a sample of root, if Daniel could use it in some way, if Sherkarer could survive the fury of the priests should Daniel actually slay the beast; if Daniel kept his promise and, winning the king’s favor, remembered the Nubian. If and if and if—
On the other hand, if the sirrush died, then he could look forward only to certain death, and probably not an easy one. Sherkarer thought that on either hand he faced a dark future. But it was better perhaps to do as Daniel’s man suggested. What one hopes for is always better than what one has.
So he followed orders, seeing that a handful of root went out with the discarded matting. He was glad he had done so when at night the sirrush only nibbled a little of what was offered it.
“The beast ails.” The chief priest in the compound turned on Sherkarer and there was a harsh note in his voice. “What is the matter with it?”
“It is still tired from that long journey when it had not the proper food or water,” Sherkarer hurried to say. “Now that it is here it will speedily become well again.”
“It had better, black face, or else you shall find what is done to those who ill serve Marduk-Bel. And tomorrow—” He hesitated and then added, “Tomorrow it must be ready to take vengeance upon an enemy of our God. It must come forth from the water and strike down he who denies the will of Marduk. How can this be done?”
“If men stand at the other end of the pool”—Sherkarer had already given some thought to this, for any plan Daniel might have would surely fail if the beast continued to sulk under the surface of the water—“and strike the water with poles, then it will come into this shallow end. Also this must be done in the evening, for it hates the day as you know. And most of the torches must be kept at the far end.”
He was trying to remember the story of how the thing had been captured in the first place. He was sure it had been driven into the pit cage in this fashion.
“It shall be done.” The priest nodded to the scribe waiting for orders.
The next morning Sherkarer found the ball of reeds in one of the baskets of vegetation. From it came the smell of pitch and fat, and small hairs stuck out among the reeds, so that he rolled it in a second covering and laid it just under the surface of the food pile. The rest of the day he clung to patience, a hundred times ready to go and knock away that ball, sure that he could not trust Daniel or his plans; and a hundred times he remained where he was because he had that thin thread of hope.
When the dusk came those making this trial came, and with them the Great King himself. They set a throne for him so that he was raised high above his guards and courtiers. The High Priest had a lesser throne to his right, while a row of guards made a wall between them and the pool. Sherkarer was crowded back against the wall, but he had kicked together a pile of reeds and stood high enough on the unstable footing to be able to see.
The matting roof was torn away, and then the priest who had charge of the sirrush made a gesture. There was a beating of drums and a calling of rams’ horns, while slaves with poles struck the water of the pool, two rows of torches behind them.
The water became covered with a murky froth raised by their efforts. Then the head of the sirrush rose on its snake neck. It gave a honking cry, louder than Sherkarer had ever heard before, and its head darted back and forth as might that of a serpent preparing to strike. Then it turned away from those tormenting it by curdling the water. Since the other end of the pool was shallow it arose, standing now upon its powerful hind legs, its forepaws curled a little against its belly, its head forward.
A man came up on the steps before the Great King, and though the torches here were but few Sherkarer saw he was Daniel. As he came the King’s hand rose in a signal, and at that moment all the clamor made by the horns, the drums, the beating of the water, was stilled, so that Daniel’s voice could be heard as it carried clearly across the courtyard.
“Oh, King, live forever! I have come to judgment with your god. As I have said, I carry no weapon—” He spread his hands wide that all men could see they were empty. “Yet shall I slay this beast even as if I thrust him through with the blade of the King’s ow
n sword. And I shall slay him through the power of the Lord God Jehovah, who has willed me to come hither, into this place of false gods.”
There was a stir among the priests, a murmur, but again the King’s hand brought silence.
Then Daniel turned and went to the poolside. The beast was taller than two such men as it reared, awaiting him. And now even the angry swaying of its head was stilled. Sherkarer drew a deep breath, his eyes on its tail, waiting for the betraying quiver which would mean that that scaled and terrible lash would strike down this defenseless man.
Yet Daniel walked as one without fear, his hands up, palms outward. And from his lips came words the Nubian could not understand. But he guessed that the other called upon this God of his in his own tongue. The words rolled as a chant of a priest. Upon hearing them the priests of Marduk-Bel moved as if they would rush this outlander who so profaned their temple.
Now it was the High Priest who raised his hand to quiet them. Sherkarer tensed, for he thought he saw a quiver run along the beast’s tail.
Still it did not move and the Nubian began to believe that Daniel was weaving a spell with that chant, was holding the monster so. Then, still speaking, Daniel picked up a handful of the reed roots. These he bunched together into a ball and tossed into the air. The monster’s jaws gaped, caught that mass of vegetation, crunched it.
Sherkarer was frozen with amazement. That the creature would eat so at Daniel’s offering he could hardly believe, even though he had seen it with his own eyes.
A second time Daniel fed the sirrush with a tossed bundle of roots. Around him no man moved or made a sign. So still was the whole company that the Nubian could hear the breathing of the men beside him.
For the third time Daniel took up a ball of food. This time Sherkarer was sure it was that which he had hidden among the roots at Daniel’s bidding. And for the third time the monster accepted the offering, crunched, and swallowed.
But this time the root ball held that poisonous offering prepared by Daniel’s people, so it was as if the lau had swallowed one of the torches. It arched backward, giving voice in deep bellows. The tail lashed and fell, lashed and fell, whipping the water again into froth, yet not reaching any enemy, for all pressed quickly away from the rim of the pool. Then, with an effort they could see, it tried to reach Daniel, who had not retreated more than a step or two. Instead it collapsed, to writhe and kick, its horned serpent head resting on the poolside. And so it died.
