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River God: A Novel of Ancient Egypt (Novels of Ancient Egypt)

Page 24

by Wilbur Smith


  Then suddenly I saw a movement beyond the swaying cobra. My Lady Lostris appeared in the doorway, summoned by my first terrified cry. I found my voice again, and I screamed at her, ‘Be careful! Come no closer!’

  She paid no heed to my warning as she took in the scene at a glance. A moment’s delay or hesitation on her part, and the serpent would have struck at me for the third and last time. My mistress had been at her dinner when she heard my cry for help. She stood now with a half-eaten melon in one hand and a silver knife in the other, and she reacted with the swift instinct of a true huntress.

  Tanus had taught her to forsake the awkward double-jointed manner of throwing that is natural to the female, and she hurled the melon she held with the force and aim of a trained javelineer. It struck the cobra upon the back of its extended hood, and for a fleeting instant the blow knocked it flat upon the tiled floor. Like the release of a war bow, the serpent whipped erect and turned its dreadful head towards my mistress and then sped at her across the room in full attack.

  I was released from my trance at last and started forward to help her, but I was too slow. Using its tail as a fulcrum, the cobra swung forward and aimed at her with its jaws so widely distended that venom sprayed from its erect fangs in a fine, pale mist. My mistress leaped back, agile and swift as a gazelle before the rush of the hunting cheetah. The cobra missed its strike, and for an instant the impetus threw it flat at her feet, extended to its full glistening, scaly length.

  I do not know what possessed her, but she had never lacked in courage. Before the cobra could recover, she hopped forward again and landed with both those neat little sandalled feet upon the back of its head, pinning it to the tiles with her full weight.

  Perhaps she had expected to crush its spine, but the snake was as thick as her wrist and resilient as the lash of Rasfer’s whip. Although its head was pinned, the rest of its long body whipped up and over and coiled around her legs. A woman of lesser sense and nerve might have tried to escape that loathsome embrace. If she had done so my mistress would have died, for the instant the cobra’s head was freed the death-strike would have followed.

  Instead, she kept both feet planted firmly upon the writhing serpent, spreading her arms to balance herself, and she screamed out, ‘Help me, Taita!’

  I was already halfway across the room, and now I dived full length and thrust my hands into the coils of the serpent’s body that boiled around her legs. I groped along its sinuous length, down to where it narrowed into the neck, and I seized it and locked both my hands around the cobra’s throat, with my fingers entwined.

  ‘I have him!’ I yelled, almost incoherent with my own horror and loathing for this cold, scaly creature that struggled in my grip. ‘I have him! Get away from us! Stand clear!’

  My mistress leaped back obediently, and I came to my feet clutching the creature with a frantic strength, trying to keep its gaping jaws away from my face. The tail whipped back and wound around my shoulders and my neck, threatening to strangle me as I clung to the head. With this grip upon me the snake now had purchase, and its strength was terrifying. I found that I could not hold it, even with both my fists locked around its throat. It was gradually forcing its head free, drawing it inexorably back through my fingers. I realized that the instant it broke out of my grip, it would lash out at my unprotected face.

  ‘I can’t hold it!’ I screamed, more to myself than to Lady Lostris. I was holding it at arm’s-length, but it was pulling itself towards my face, drawing closer to my eyes every moment as waves of power pulsed through it, contracting and tightening the coils around my throat, forcing the head back through my fingers.

  Although my knuckles were white with the strength of my grip, the cobra was so close to my face that I could see the fangs flicking back and forth in the roof of its wide gaping jaws. The cobra was able to erect or to flatten them at will. They were bony white needles, and pale, smoky jets of venom spurted from their tips. I knew that if even a droplet of that poison entered my eyes, it would blind me, and the burning pain of it might drive me half-mad.

  I twisted the snake’s head away from my face so that the spray of poison was discharged into the air, and I screamed again in despair, ‘Call one of the slaves to help me!’

  ‘On the table!’ my mistress spoke close beside me. ‘Hold its head on the table!’ I was startled. I had thought that she had obeyed my order and run to find help, but she was at my side, and I saw that she still brandished the silver table-knife.

  Carrying the cobra with me, I staggered across the floor and fell to my knees beside the low table. With a supreme effort I managed to force the snake’s head down across one edge of the table, and to hold it there. It gave my mistress a chopping-block against which to wield the knife. She hacked at the base of the cobra’s neck, behind the hideous head.

  The snake felt the first cut and redoubled its struggles. Coil after coil of rubbery flesh lashed and contorted around my head. Hissing bursts of air flew from its gape, almost deafening us, the awful din mingling with the spurts of venom from its fangs.

  The little blade was sharp, and the scaly flesh parted under it. Slippery, cool, ophidian blood welled up over my fingers, but the blade bit down to the bone of the spine. With all her strength and with her face contorted by the effort, my mistress sawed at the bone, but now my fingers were lubricated by the cobra’s blood. I felt the head slither out between them and the serpent was free, but at the same moment the knife found the joint between the vertebrae and slipped through, cleaving the spine.

  Dangling by a thread of skin, the head was thrown about loosely by the cobra’s death-throes. Although almost severed from the body, the fangs still flickered and oozed poison. The lightest touch would be enough to drive them into my flesh. I tore at the body with frenzied, bloody fingers and at last managed to unwind it from around my throat, and to hurl it to the floor.

  As the two of us backed away to the door, the snake continued its grotesque contortions, knotting itself and coiling into a ball, scaly turns sliding over each other.

  ‘Are you harmed, my lady?’ I asked, without being able to tear my eyes away from the death-throes of the carcass. ‘Is there any of the venom in your eyes or on your skin?’

  ‘I am all right,’ she whispered. ‘And you, Taita?’ The tone of her voice alarmed me enough to make me forget my own distress, and I looked at her face. The reaction from danger had already seized her, and she was beginning to shake. Her dark green eyes were too large to fit that glassy white face. I had to find some way to release her from the icy grip of shock.

  ‘Well,’ I said briskly, ‘that takes care of tomorrow evening’s dinner. I do so love a nice piece of roast cobra.’

  For a moment she stared at me blankly and then she let out a peal of hysterical laughter. My own laughter was no less wild and unrestrained. We clung helplessly to each other and laughed until tears poured down our cheeks.

  * * *

  I would not trust our cook with it, so I prepared the cobra myself. I skinned and gutted it and stuffed it with wild garlic and other herbs, together with a dollop of mutton fat from the tail of a prime ram. Then I coiled it in a ball and wrapped it in banana leaves and covered the whole bundle with a thick coating of wet clay. I built over the lump of clay a hot fire which I kept burning all day.

  That evening when I cracked open the hard-baked ball of clay, the aroma released by the succulent white flesh flooded our mouths with saliva. There are those who have dined at my table who say they have never eaten tastier food than that which I prepare, and who am I to contradict my friends?

  I served the flaky fillets to my mistress with a wine of five-palm quality that Aton had chanced upon in Pharaoh’s store-rooms. My Lady Lostris insisted that I sit with her under the barrazza in the courtyard and share the meal. We agreed that it was better than the tail of crocodile, or even than the flesh of the finest perch from the Nile.

  It was only when we had eaten our fill and sent the rest of it to her slave
maidens that we broached the matter of who it was that had sent me the gift of the basket of fruit.

  I tried not to alarm my mistress, and made a joke of it: ‘It must have been somebody who does not like my singing!’ However, she was not to be put off so easily.

  ‘Don’t play the clown with me, Taita. It is one direction in which you have little talent. I think you know who it was, and I think I do as well.’

  I stared at her, not sure how to deal with what I suspected was coming. I had always protected her, even from the truth. I wondered how far she had seen through me.

  ‘It was my father,’ she said with such finality that there was no reply or denial I could give her. ‘Tell me about him, Taita. Tell me all the things I should know about him, but which you never dared tell me.’

  It came hard at first. A lifetime of reticence cannot be overcome in a moment. It was still difficult to realize that I was no longer completely under the thrall of Lord Intef. Deeply as I had always hated him, he had dominated me body and soul since my childhood, and there persisted a kind of perverse loyalty that made it difficult for me to speak out freely against him. Weakly I attempted to fob her off with only the barest outlines of her father’s clandestine activities, but she cut across me impatiently.

  ‘Come now! Don’t take me for a fool. I know more about my father than you ever dreamed. It is time for me to learn the rest of it. I charge you straight, tell me everything.’

  So I obeyed her, and there was so much to tell that the full moon was halfway up the sky before I was done. We sat in silence for a long time afterwards. I had left out nothing, nor had I tried to deny or to excuse my own part in any of it.

  ‘No wonder he wants you dead,’ she whispered at last. ‘You know enough to destroy him.’ She was silent a little longer, and then she went on, ‘My father is a monster. How is it possible that I am any different from him? Why, as his daughter, am I not also possessed by such unnatural instincts?’

  ‘We must thank all the gods that you are not. But mistress, do you not despise me also for what I have done?’

  She reached across and touched my hand. ‘You forget that I have known you all my life, since the day that my mother died giving birth to me. I know what you really are. Anything you did, you were forced to do, and freely I forgive you for it.’

  She sprang to her feet and paced restlessly around the lily pond before she returned to where I sat.

  ‘Tanus is in terrible danger from my father. I never realized just how much until this evening. He must be warned so that he will be able to protect himself. You must go to him now, Taita, without delaying another day.’

  ‘Mistress—’ I began, but she cut me off brusquely.

  ‘No, Taita, I will not listen to any more of your sly excuses. You will leave for Karnak tomorrow.’

  * * *

  So before sunrise the next morning I set out fishing, alone in the skiff. However, I made certain that at least a dozen slaves and sentries saw me leave the island.

  In a backwater of the lagoon I opened the leather bag in which I had concealed a tom-cat that had befriended me. He was a sad old animal riddled with mange and with agonizing canker in both ears. For some time I had been steeling myself to give him release from his misery. Now I fed him a lump of raw meat laced with Datura essence. I held him on my lap and stroked him as he ate, and he purred contentedly. As soon as he slipped painlessly into oblivion, I cut his throat.

  I sprinkled the blood over the skiff, and dropped the carcass of the cat overboard where I knew that the crocodiles would soon dispose of it. Then, leaving my harpoons and lines and other gear on board, I pushed the skiff out into the slow current and waded through the papyrus beds to hard ground.

  We had agreed that my mistress would wait until nightfall before she raised the alarm. It would be noon tomorrow before they found the blood-smeared skiff and concluded that I had been taken by a crocodile or been murdered by a band of the Shrikes.

  Once I was ashore, I changed swiftly into the costume I had brought with me. I had chosen to impersonate one of the priests of Osiris. I would often ape their stilted gait and pompous manners for the amusement of my mistress. It needed only a wig, a touch of make-up and the correct costume to make the transformation. The priests are always on the move, up and down along the river, travelling between one temple and another, begging or rather demanding alms along the way. I would excite little interest, and my disguise might help to discourage an attack by the Shrikes. On superstitious grounds they were often reluctant to interfere with the holy men.

  I skirted the lagoon and entered the town of West Elephantine through the poor quarter. At the docks I approached one of the barge captains who was loading a cargo of corn in leather bags and clay jugs of oil. With the right degree of arrogance I demanded free passage to Karnak in the name of the god, and he shrugged and spat on the deck, but allowed me to come aboard. All men are resigned to the extortions of the brotherhood. They may despise the priests, but they also fear their power, both spiritual and secular. Some say that the priesthood wields almost as much power as does Pharaoh himself.

  The moon was full and the barge captain a more intrepid mariner than Admiral Nembet. We did not anchor at night. With the breeze and the full flood of the Nile behind us, we made a fair passage and on the fifth day rounded the bend of the river and saw the city of Karnak lying before us.

  My stomach was queasy as I went ashore, for this was my town and every beggar and idler knew me well. If I were recognized, Lord Intef would hear about it before I could reach the city gates. However, my disguise held up, and I kept to the back alleys as I hurried in a purposeful and priestly manner to Tanus’ house near the squadron base.

  His front door was unbarred. I entered as though I had the right, and closed the door securely behind me. The starkly furnished rooms were deserted and when I searched them, I found nothing to give me any indication of his whereabouts. Tanus had obviously been gone for a long time, possibly since my mistress and I had left Karnak. The milk in a jug by the window had thickened and dried like hard cheese, and a crust of sorghum bread on the plate beside it was covered with a blue mould.

  As far as I could see, nothing was missing; even the bow Lanata still hung on its rack above his bed. For Tanus to have left that was extraordinary. Usually it was like an extension of his body. I hid it away carefully in a secret compartment below his sleeping-place, which I had built for him when first he had moved into these lodgings. I wished to avoid moving around the city in daylight, so I remained in Tanus’ rooms for the rest of that afternoon, occupying myself with cleaning up the dust and filth that had accumulated.

  At nightfall I slipped out and went down to the riverside. I saw immediately that the Breath of Horus was at her moorings. She had obviously been in action since last I had seen her, and had suffered battle damage. Her bows were shattered and her timbers amidships had been scorched and charred.

  I noted with a stir of proprietary pride that Tanus had made the modifications to her hull that I had designed. The gilded metal horn protruded from her bows, just above the water-line. From its battered condition I surmised that it had done fierce execution amongst the fleets of the red pretender.

  However, I could see that neither Tanus nor Kratas was on deck. A junior officer whom I recognized had the watch, but I discarded the idea of hailing him, and instead set out to tour the sailors’ haunts around the area of the docks.

  It says a great deal for the morals and the sanctity of the priests of Osiris that I was welcomed in the dives and whorehouses like an habitué. In one of the more respectable taverns I recognized the impressive figure of Kratas. He was drinking and playing at dice with a group of his brother officers. I made no move to approach him, but I watched him across the crowded room. Meanwhile I fended off the advances of a succession of pleasure-birds of both sexes who were progressively lowering their tariffs in their efforts to tempt me out into the dark alleyway to sample their well-displayed charms. None of
them were in the least deterred by my priestly collar of blue glass beads.

  When Kratas at last gave his companions a hearty goodnight and made his way out into the alley, I followed his tall figure with relief.

  ‘What is it you want from me now, beloved of the gods?’ he growled at me with scorn when I hurried up beside him. ‘Is it my gold or my bum-splitter you crave?’ Many of the priests had taken enthusiastically to this modern vogue for pederasty.

  ‘I’ll take the gold,’ I told him. ‘You have more of that than the other, Kratas.’ He stopped dead in his tracks and stared at me suspiciously. His bluff and handsome features were only a little flushed and befuddled by liquor.

  ‘How do you know my name?’ He seized me by the shoulder and dragged me into a lighted doorway, and studied my face. At last he snatched the wig from off my head. ‘By the piles between Seth’s buttocks, it’s you, Taita!’ he roared.

  ‘I’d be obliged if you would refrain from shouting out my name to all the world,’ I told him, and he turned serious at once.

  ‘Come! We’ll go to my rooms.’

  Once we were alone, he poured two mugs of beer. ‘Haven’t you had enough of that?’ I asked, and he grinned at me.

  ‘We’ll only know the answer to that in the morning. How now, Taita! Don’t be too strict with me. We have been down-river raiding the red usurper’s fleet for the past three weeks. Sweet Hapi, but that bow-horn of yours works wonders. We cut up nearly twenty of his galleys and we chopped the heads off a couple of hundred of his rascals. Although it was thirsty work, not a drop of anything stronger than water has passed my lips in all that time. Don’t begrudge me a mouthful of beer now. Drink with me!’ He raised his mug, and I was also thirsty. I saluted him in return, but as I put the mug down again, I asked, ‘Where is Tanus?’

 

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