Chapter Sixteen: The Bloody Stream
Laylos and Kiya rushed to help Dennu to his feet while Huy led the donkey behind a bush. The youth was a cumbersome burden and tried to resist them. They were still wrestling with Dennu when the hoof beats stopped and they heard the sound of an argument.
"If the riders catch us we will be killed," Kiya hissed in Dennu's ear as she helped Laylos haul him behind a clump of bamboo. She clapped her hand over his mouth in case he tried to summon help. They listened to the soldiers resolve their argument, then heard the sounds of their departure. Kiya peered between the bamboo stems to count five soldiers, riding towards Qato. She released Dennu.
“Ouch, that was unnecessary,” he complained.
“Was it?” She stared at him, uncertain where his allegiance lay. He glared back resentfully and she turned away.
Huy was looking down the road in the opposite direction and Kiya joined him to see a sixth man leading the three strays back to Ankhis. “We’re in trouble now,” he said. “I have contacts in Qato and was hoping to hire a boat to get us to Thebes. All that has gone. Massui’s men will get to the village before us and will be lying in wait. We will have to travel overland.”
"Overland? Is that possible?" said Kiya, thinking of the tightly packed farmsteads.
"Of course. But it is not the journey I had envisaged." He looked concerned and Kiya was about to asked him more when Laylos called out.
"Will someone help me with the boy!" The tension in Laylos’s voice made Kiya whirl around and she saw, to her dismay, that Dennu had sunk into semi consciousness again and lay slumped in her aunt’s arms. “He needs more treatment. Kiya, fetch me my medicine bag.”
Kiya was about to run to the donkey but was stopped by Huy. “No! Whatever his condition, we will have to go, we cannot wait here any longer.”
Kiya looked at her aunt, torn between the conflicting demands. After a moment in which she thought Laylos might rebel, her aunt nodded her agreement. “It will do the poor boy no good if we are all recaptured.”
Huy ran to Laylos’s side, leaving Kiya to fetch the donkey. It stood quietly cropping grass and taking no notice of the dramas around it. She tugged at the rope attached to its nose ring and it reluctantly stopped eating and allowed itself to be led to where Huy and Laylos were holding Dennu. They manoeuvred the boy into a sitting position, with one leg over the animal’s back.
Laylos regarded her patient as he sat hunched, his eyes closed and his breathing shallow. “It was a strange poison his father used upon him. We can only pray to the gods that he will survive.”
“If he dies, we will have risked our lives for nothing,” said Huy. “We must make haste. You two support the boy, I will lead the donkey. I know a track that leads to a ferry across another tributary of the river. It is only used by farmers.”
“How come you know about it, then?” asked Laylos.
“I am familiar with this part of Gesem. One of my duties was to protect the tax gatherers here.”
Laylos muttered some insult about tax gatherers and they set off along the road once more. Kiya found it awkward to walk with her arm around Dennu’s waist but, despite her cramped position, she wished the over-burdened donkey could go faster. Dennu’s relapse filled her with guilt. If only she had not been so forceful when she held her hand over his mouth. Was it her fault that he had worsened? She kept looking back, expecting to see horsemen, and did not notice the track until Huy pointed to a grassy pathway, squeezed between the boundary ditches of two fields.
“We will have to travel single file,” he said. “You lead the donkey, Kiya, while I support the boy.”
Kiya feared that, even as they crossed the farmland, Massui’s men might spot them. Then the pathway passed a field of unharvested barley and a grove of palms so they were hidden from the road. Kiya relaxed. For the first time since the incident at the inn, she felt safe, but such a sentiment was short lived.
“We can only hope the ferry is still running,” said Huy. “It finishes at the end of harvest time, before the floods sweep away the moorings.” They walked in silence as Kiya contemplated the prospect of being trapped in Gesem.
After a while Laylos, who was bringing up the rear of the group, began to falter. “I’m sure you must all feel as tired and thirsty as I do. Can we stop for refreshment?”
“No! I forbid it!” Huy was firm.
Kiya felt sorry for her aunt. She glanced around and saw her struggling to keep up. “I wouldn’t mind a rest, myself,” she said.
“There will be time enough when we have crossed the river,” said Huy.
They trudged on until, at last, the path curved to revealed the river. It ran swollen and slow between overgrown reed beds and Kiya saw that it was already tinged red with the mud that heralded the inundation. Where the path ended vegetation had been cut back to allow access to the water. Kiya stopped the donkey on the bank and looked over to the opposite side where a hut stood - a flimsy structure, destined to be washed away when the waters rose.
“Hoy!” shouted Huy. They listened but could only hear reeds rustling in the wind.
Kiya’s heart sank. Their worse fears had been realised, the ferry had stopped running. She was about to turn away when a man emerged from the hut.
“What do you want?” His voice was harsh.
“We need the ferry!”
There was a pause as if the man was considering their request and then he yelled, “Coming.”
With exaggerated effort he picked up a pole and boarded a raft, which lay so low in the water that Kiya had thought it part of the riverbank. She looked at the fragile craft with dismay. It was a home-made structure consisting of bundles of papyrus tied with rope and topped with planks.
The raft was half way across the river by the time Laylos caught up with them. “Have we got to go over the water on that?” she gasped.
“It should be safe enough,” said Huy, “though we might get our feet wet.”
“Our feet, our ankles, our knees – we’ll be lucky if the water doesn’t go over the tops of our heads!”
Huy smiled. “I take it that you have never crossed the river before, Laylos.”
“Never. I’m a respectable woman, not a wandering nomad.”
“I’m sorry, Aunt.” Kiya’s feelings of guilt surged like birds beneath a hunter’s net.
“None of this is your fault, child.” Laylos gave a light laugh. “But if I drown in that river you will be answerable to Anubis in the afterlife.”
Although she knew her aunt was joking, Kiya felt herself colour at the name of her beloved god. She turned away to hide her blushes, and fussed over the unconscious Dennu. “Should we hide this?” she asked, looking at his armlet. “No peasant would wear such fine jewellery.”
“We cannot take it off,” said Huy. “It belonged to his mother and he wears it always.”
“Wrap your cloak around him,” suggested Laylos. Kiya took off her cloak and placed it around Dennu’s shoulders. As she tied the knot at his neck, her face was so close to his that she felt an impulse to kiss him. Gently, she pressed her lips to his cheek. His eyelashes fluttered but his eyes remained closed.
The sound of the ferryman’s grumbling could be heard as he approached. “You’re lucky I’m still here. Can you not see the blood of Osiris in the water? It will soon be time for Isis to flood the Nile with her tears. I was packing to go to higher ground.”
“You’re the lucky one to have passengers,” called out Huy.
The ferry reached the shore. “All aboard, and hurry up about it,” said the ferryman. He stepped ashore and held out his hand for the fare.
“I will pay,” said Laylos, opening her waist pouch.
“No, allow me,” said Huy, taking a tin ring from his money belt and offering it to the ferryman.
“Donkeys are extra.”
Huy glared at the man, but fished out another ring without dispute.
The ferryman stared at the half-conscious Dennu. “I am not ta
king him!” he declared.
Kiya and the God of Chaos Page 16
