The Prince of Nubia

by Nathaniel Burns

  Shabaka looked up at his father, as the king welcomed the participants, highlighting the pride that parents experienced on having their youngsters selected for such an event, the honor that went with being proclaimed the champion. Murmurs greeted his speech, although little of it registered with Shabaka. He turned to look down the line, noticing that Hassim had also turned his head to look at him, but the expression on the young man’s face was similar to the one he carried in his heart, dread, although for different reasons. He could understand the feeling in the young man’s heart, the hopes his parents would have of him succeeding.

  Shabaka’s gaze shifted to the distance where he knew his brother would be standing, like a proud peacock, knowing that his brother had also stood there in his time. He even for a moment wondered what it would be like, having a son like Hassim, but shook his head, his mind could not seem to focus for long on anything.

  The king ended his address by thanking everyone for their loyalty and declaring the festival open. The drummers again struck up the beat and the participants were escorted to a preparation area. The scribes and attendants moved to their demarcated areas to call the dancers to attention, listing their order.

  Shabaka was thankful for the reprieve. He knew he should not get too caught up in events, that he should not let the drums get to him too soon, that they would wear him out. So he tried to block them out and refused to watch any of the fights, keeping mostly to himself

  Word of Rameke and his companions’ departure had long since reached Moses, who met up with the small group of guards at the entranceway to Dragi’s house and private gardens. Having checked on the location of the others, whom he knew had already entered the premises, he awaited their appearance.

  The objective was to proceed through the entire property and flush out any remaining servants, before searching the premises, leaving guards at every gate. Thus the largest group of guards worked their way from the trading post, the highest point on the property, while the guards placed at all exits were to capture anyone intent on leaving the grounds. This was an attempt to prevent any information about the search from leaving the premises, until it was concluded.

  On reaching the house and gardens, the main group was to disperse to allow the others to bring forward any captives, before an intense search of the property and buildings were to be undertaken. Captives would then be questioned by the captain of the guard, with the hope of shortening the search, which, given the size of the property, could take most of the day.

  Moses waited, noticing that even the guards grew impatient and looked around more often. One was chanting a line over and over and it began to get on his nerves, until finally he could not take anymore, and he shouted at the man to be quiet. The others only looked at him and he shook his head, knowing that they would not understand him, but that the intention of his action had been understood.

  He turned to the man he knew understood Egyptian and asked, “What is the matter with him?” when the man again, more quietly started the chant.

  “It is a protection chant.”

  “A protection chant for what?” Moses asked, knowing that it was unlikely for them to enter into any form of conflict. The guards were only there to secure the property while it was searched.

  “He believes that this place is cursed by Apep.”

  “Cursed?” Moses asked surprised, “and how could it be cursed?”

  “When men mysteriously die, it is not uncommon to suspect such things,” the guard said, the logic in his voice almost confounded.

  “Dragi died of a weak heart, it failed him, there is nothing strange about that.”

  The man shook his head, as he continued, “He first became weak from a curse, which claimed his heart.”

  Moses remained silent at that, knowing that the man had made up his mind, that there would be no explaining to him that Dragi had become ill because of his heart. Instead he replied. “Then let him guard the captives in the garden; I cannot work with someone like that.”

  The man looked at him in disbelief, “He is not the only one who thinks so.”

  “That might be, but he is the one who is going to incite my wrath by his behavior, and his fear might also cause enough discomfort to the captives.”

  The man remained silent for several moments before replying, “You hope that it will make them talk.”

  Moses simply nodded his head, then suddenly turned his head when one of the guards announced seeing the captain.

  The initial party had only flushed out a handful of servants, who from their appearance were the low-level servants on the property. One was an aged man who fed and watched over the goats and sheep, and on questioning it was revealed that he had only remained with Rameke because he could not find employment elsewhere.

  The others were similarly simple servants, having no place else to go and they did not receive large payments for the work they did.

  Moses looked at them and shook his head, knowing that they knew little and had no information about any captives or prisoners.

  The captain asked them about women and if there had been any on the premises, to which one of them animatedly answered at first, before shaking his head. Moses expected the captain to turn to him with an answer, but when it became evident enough that none was forthcoming, Moses asked, “What did he say?”

  “That women did indeed come here, but they are not the one you are looking for.”

  “How does he know that?”

  The captain only raised his brow to him, and he understood.

  “Ah, women of leisure,” Moses said.

  “If you choose to put it that way. We just call them sluts, and it seems that Rameke and his friends have several.”

  “Could he identify them?” Moses asked.

  The captain looked at him in disbelief, “You really want me to ask him that?”

  “Yes, the women might have information about Rameke, you know how some men can talk.”

  “I do not want to hear it,” the captain said, “but you do have a point.

  He then turned to the man and asked him, before returning his attention to Moses. “He says that he can identify the ones who come here regularly.”

  “Then have him escorted to the holding chambers.”

  “He will object to that.”

  “From the look of him, the conditions will be better, and he is not charged with a crime.” Moses said, adding, “I will speak to the prince and the king about him tonight.”

  “Must he go now?” the captain asked.

  Moses shook his head, “No one is to leave here until we are finished. He can go when we do. If he gets away, he can warn the others.”

  “You do not trust him?” the captain asked, confused.

  “When you have seen what I have, then you will know that there are only a few people one can trust fully. Most people have more interests in their own affairs.”

  The captain nodded.

  Sometime later the first search team returned, with nothing to report. The second team reported suspect goods that would have to be checked against the inventory, but no person was found. The third and fourth teams reported the same and Moses mentally marked off the remaining areas, and waited for the teams to return. It was only when the last team returned with a negative report that Moses turned to Dragi’s house, “It is the last place to search.”

  The captain turned to the teams, selecting only the leaders and instructing them to go, before turning to Moses, “They do not like searching the house.”

  I had hoped we’d find her before this,” Moses honestly replied. “Searching someone’s house without their consent can lead to all kinds of claims.”

  “Which Rameke obviously would know of,” the captain replied.

  “Which is why if we find her, the servants can serve as witnesses, along with the guards,” Moses replied.

  “You think he would contest such a finding?” the captain asked.

  “I have seen strange—” Moses did not finish the
sentence as one of the man came hurtling toward them, rapidly speaking.

  The captain did not even turn to speak to him, only called, “Come,” and then moved off after the man.

  Moses was only a step behind as they raced toward the house, the men all gathered in the passageway, but none speaking. A sickly stench hung in the air, one Moses did not like much. It was one he could not quite place, but instinctively knew it was wrong.

  One man pointed to a doorway at the back, which seemed to be were the stench was emanating from, clearing the way as Moses moved along the passage. Moses stood at the door for several seconds, preparing himself for the worse, drawing in a deep breath only to nearly gag at the stench before stepping into the doorway.

  The room was poorly lit, although there was enough light to make out most of the interior. He tried to remember if Aya had pointed it out specifically since one could not see into it from the outside. He gave his eyes several moments to adjust to the view and saw several patches of what appeared to be vomit, and the cause of the sour node to the stench. He felt himself grow angry at the evident neglect.

  He finally made out a still, lifeless form that lay to one side and cautiously approached it. His heart grew heavy and his steps unwilling. The shape was draped in dirty rags, curled up in a bundle, which made identifying it difficult. However, it seemed too small to be Neti, her presence had always filled a room, which gave him some hope.

  He knelt beside the figure and made to move one of the rags, only to have a pain-filled whine fill the air. He stumbled back in shock, looking as if it had bitten him. He was familiar with the call of death, often made by a dying animal, but had never heard it, but that seemed to be as good as one. He again approached with caution, noticing how the others kept their distance from whatever was there.

  “Maybe you should leave it,” the captain said.

  One of the men turned from there, screaming as he ran along the passage causing everyone’s heart rate to increase.

  Moses looked at the captain, who replied, “The curse, he believes it is cursed, that he will also be cursed.”

  Moses looked at the others, noting their discomfort before again turning to the form that appeared to draw itself together more, as if wanting to disappear.

  He visibly swallowed as he again approached it, his hand shaking as he reached for the rag, only to feel his heart drop within moments of pulling it clear.

  “By gods, Neti, what have they done to you?” he said, falling to his knees beside her. “By Ra! What am I going to tell Shabaka?” Moses added, visibly swallowing to keep down the bile.

  “Bring some sheets, and call for a chariot. We have to get her to a healer,” Moses called, looking her over again, “or have one brought here, but bring the sheets. She will have to be carried.”

  There were more pained moans from her but Moses only placed his hand on her shoulder as he spoke, “I’ve got you Neti, we’ll take care of you, just hold on.”

  Moses impatiently waited for the others to find sheets, helping them to move her onto them, his anger mounting at how little of her there seemed to be. One of the guards returned, stating that they had one of the dray animals and a dray outside that could take her to the palace.

  “The palace?” Moses questioned. Thinking she should rather be taken to a house of life. “You will not be delayed by the crowds?”

  “The royal healers are the best in the kingdom, and we will go the other way,” the captain flatly stated, indicating to Moses to get on also.

  Moses settled close to Neti’s still, hunched form, musing to himself, “Now I only have to find some way to tell Shabaka, without telling too much.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The beating of drums, along with the hollering, chanting, and calling of women grew in tempo. The drums suddenly fell silent as calls of jubilation went through the air. At that, Shabaka felt a heavy sensation overcome him, since the sounds accompanied the completion of another dance, bringing his own dance closer.

  He looked up at his attendant as the young man came to stand before him and knew it was time to start preparations. He nodded and stood as the two men charged with anointing came to rub fat over his body, causing it to glisten a dark ebony in the sunlight. He held out his arms to allow his young attendant to fasten the adorning thongs around his wrists and the shakers along his ankles. It had been some time since he had last worn them and he stamped his feet several times to help them settle.

  He took in a deep breath and again looked around the area, seeking the faces of the onlookers, but not finding the Hebrew. Slowly they made their way through to the entranceway, with his attendant carrying his stick. Suddenly, he saw the face he was looking for.

  Moses was conversing with one of the guards, who shook his head in response to whatever request the man had made. Shabaka knew he was not allowed to speak to anyone before the contest—it was mostly to prevent amoral arrangements, yet he had to know if they had succeeded. He caught Moses’ eye, moments before the changeover drumbeats started. He simply lifted his hands, palms up, in question. Hoping that the man would understand his question.

  Moses nodded in response, causing a sense of relief to wash over him. His footsteps seemed lighter, it became easier to walk, to breathe, knowing she had been found, or at least that was what the nodding conveyed. He looked around him, for the first time acknowledging the joyous nature of the festival, understanding his father and the citizens’ pleasure in it . . . until he saw Rameke’s smirking face, the man’s obvious, gleeful confidence. Followed by the knowledge of the man’s part in Neti’s disappearance, the way Rameke had jested him when they were there, knowing where she was, doing the gods alone knew what to her. His eyes narrowed as his anger took hold.

  Shabaka stepped into the square and he turned to face his parents. His shoulders and back were stiff, as he looked around him. He saw the multitudes of people gathered, however, his focus remained firmly on his father as he slowed his breathing. His attendant proudly stood next to him, holding his stick.

  Shabaka knew he should not let his anger get the better of him, however, it was difficult to contain, especially since he was standing next to a man who had all the appearance and arrogance of an innocent man. The thought alone angered Shabaka more, and he forced himself to disregard the man next to him and did not even turn to look at Rameke as he jested, “I see you put on the wrong sash his morning.”

  The king stood and lifted his hands, to which the crowd and the drums fell silent. “People of Sylene, I present to you the pairing for the final dance of the day. My youngest son, the Nubian prefect, Shabaka.” The last was said with a great deal of pride, and at the mention of Shabaka’s name, his assistant thrust his stick in the air. A loud cheer went up from the crowd that only grew silent when the stick was again lowered and the king continued. “He is a champion in his own right. The contestant, selected for his skill, age, and suitability to challenge our prefect is Rameke, son of the late Dragi. It is his first appearance at the festival.”

  Rameke’s stick went up and again there was a cheer from the crowd.

  Rameke turned to Shabaka, “What? Did your father revoke your title as prince? Are you now to go around as a mere prefect?” his voice was taunting, sneering.

  Again Shabaka ignored him, although he clenched his fists, tightly. Shabaka knew it was pointless to spar before a dance, and he waited for this father to conclude with the introductions, or any special considerations—were there any.

  The king announced the terms of the dance, in particular stipulating that unlike the younger dancers, full contact would be permitted. On hearing that, Shabaka’s gaze shifted to his mother, noticing her discomfort.

  He knew that Moses could have informed them of developments, and that his father would know that he would be angry, which meant he was being given the opportunity to avenge Neti.

  Rameke, having realized that he was not easily going to get a rise out of Shabaka stated, “Just remember princey boy, I have no inte
ntion of letting you win. I’m not here to appease your father’s desires or to make you look good.”

  Shabaka frowned at that, not understanding, but turned his attention to Rameke and accepted his challenge, “Good, because I’m going to hurt you.”

  Rameke simply laughed and shook his head, “This should be fun. I hope your ego can handle the hammering.”

  With that, both parties moved to their respective sides of the dance square. Shabaka took his stick from the young attendant and watched as Rameke readied himself, rolling his shoulders as his attendant moved off.

  They waited for the drummers to start, and glared at each other over the separating distance. The drummers started with a steady beat and Shabaka counted the beats, to ensure that he picked up the timing and the rhythm thereof as they started to circle to the right.

  The dance itself was well organized, the approach and seven movements were allowed, before one had to step back and start in an opposite direction allowing one’s opponent to approach. That was where the similarity in their dances and the other dances altered. With the regular dances, skill and complexity of the movements were considered, where with their dance, a full-contact dance, it was either the strike count or the actual surrender of a participant that decided the outcome.

  As champion, Shabaka would be expected to move first, although he could not decide on a combination of movements he was to use, and stepped forward, using an advanced combination that would allow him to test Rameke’s skills and response. The steps were light, the movements made with ease, While Rameke countered them with little effort. The collision of their sticks merged well with the drumbeats and the clapping of the onlookers, before both stepped back and again circled, this time in the opposite direction.

  Shabaka shifted his weight onto his toes. He could feel the shakers shift, their sound joining the others, but he fought the beat, instead focusing on Rameke, trying to determine any weaknesses in the man’s defense, anything he could take advantage of.